Legend (Dragon Age Origins)

Chapter 3: The Ruins

THE SUN HAD REACHED ITS HIGHEST POINT when they arrived at the ruins of Ostagar. Although Duncan had provided a description of the ruins and their history to her, Dru still found herself in awe of her surroundings.

Nestled between two prominent knolls, the fortress was constructed almost four hundred years ago, during the time of the Tevinter Imperium, a political entity that once ruled over much of Thedas. Most of the edifice had been reclaimed by time and battle, and now the only solid structure remaining was the Tower of Ishal.

Resting on the north side of the ruins, it stood as a testament to the might of the Imperium. The building had become instrumental to the King's army during their tenure. With its peak stretching towards the clouds, the scouts positioned along the parapets were able to see for miles.

A wide stone bridge joined the ruins from north to south. Three guards were gathered at the entrance, engaged in what appeared to be a heated debate about battle strategy. Their conversation quieted as Dru and Duncan approached. Both acknowledged them with a nod of respect, but she noticed their eyes narrowing as they skimmed over her.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her emotions when the sound of galloping hooves alerted her. At the far end of the bridge, three horses, each with a man atop, were steadily approaching. Stepping back, she reached for her daggers, but Duncan shook his head.

"It's alright, Dru," he said, his words offering little reassurance. He lifted his head as the horses drew closer, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You will be quite safe in the presence of the King."

Her eyes widened. "The King?"

The horses came to a halt before them. At the head of the trio sat a man clad in gold armor, with the face of a lion embossed across the chestplate. While Dru had known that the King of Ferelden was quite young, she was nonetheless shocked by his youthful appearance. Refined in his mid-twenties, he could have passed for even younger, boasting a plump, unblemished face. His sky-blue eyes were wide with an almost childlike excitement.

Dismounting his horse in a sweeping flourish, the King marched toward them.

"King Cailan!" Duncan exclaimed. "I wasn't expecting—"

"A royal welcome?" The King clasped his arm in greeting. "The scouts saw you approaching from the road. I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun."

"Not if I could help it, Your Majesty," Duncan responded curtly.

Cailan beamed. "Then I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all. Glorious." His attention focused on Dru. "The other Wardens told me you'd found a promising recruit. I take it this is she?"

His pleasant expression faltered for a moment as he took in her scarred and dishevelled appearance. She wasn't sure what he expected.

"Might I know your name?" he asked.

"I highly doubt it, but anything is possible."

The King's guards stared scornfully from atop their highborn horses, but Cailan remained unfazed.

"You've got yourself a lively one, Duncan. And I was beginning to think the Wardens were all stodgy priests," he joked. "I was told you hail from one of my Alienages. Tell me, how is it faring? My guards all but forbid me going there."

Dru fixed him with a level stare. She had never been privy to the intricate details of Ferelden's politics, but Cailan's absent rulership was a common source of gossip amongst the elves. After all, they were the ones who lived in the shadow of his palace.

Cailan's father, King Maric, disappeared many years ago, passing on his crown to his only son at a young age. Due to this, many believed that Cailan was simply a child playing at being king. Some admired his diplomatic deposition, though those who knew better understood that it was truly his wife, Queen Anora, who ruled from the shadows.