Inquisition Agents

Chapter 10: Comte Neruda

- I've heard you were beaten drinking beers the other day, master Oerik. I always thought dwarfs could stand alcohol like nobody else. Isn't that true?

The agents were on their way to their new mission while Gerald, the Orlesian minstrel, was interrogating each one of his partners. He had already tried to have something out from Keaton about Sergeant Ghislain, as the warrior had been training with her and the recruits for a couple of days. However, Keaton just grumbled to every question. Now, the minstrel was focused on Oerik, who looked back at an evilly smiling Dazkar.

- Well, I didn't have much dinner that day, so I guess my rival was lucky. - the dwarf said.

Dazkar coughed suspiciously twice.

- But you know, that person seemed to be really interested in Dalish. - Oerik answered while laughing to himself.

- Interested? Should I interfere? - Fenrraor said gravely while walking at the dwarf's side.

- Hush, my friend. I'm pretty sure that person doesn't want any troubles. My opponent was likely willing to know better a Dalish for... Other reasons. - Oerik looked Dazkar out of his corner's eye, and he saw her blushing of anger behind them.

- What a nice day to have a walk to Orlais, isn't it, Gerald? - the mage rushed to the agent's side to change subject.

The Orlesian started to talk widely about his country, and Dazkar took the chance to "accidentally" trip Oerik up.

The day travelling together passed by fast. Keaton led the way, listening to Oerik's and Gerald' stories. It was like a fight about who was able to tell the best adventure in the shortest time, as both constantly interrupted each other. The dwarf was getting fed up with the Orlesian by moments. Fenrraor was amused, always asking for more details about far away places or people. For him, those anecdotes sounded like tales, as the Dalish had been living within his clan during his entire life. Sometimes, the minstrel sang beautiful songs which Dazkar hummed lowly. The dwarf noticed it, although the mage was all the way travelling behind the agents, like not willing to get involved too much with them.

Comte Neruda's manor was only two days walking from Haven. They had to follow a mountain pass still covered by the winter's last snow. However, as they approached the forests of The Dales, they could see the first signs of an approaching spring. The temperature lowered down as the agents descended the Frostback Mountains hillside, so when the night came, they could set camp comfortably.

Oerik was carrying a big tent, which had enough space for four people. After having a simple but pleasant dinner, everyone started to prepare a place to sleep. The dwarf, however, took his diary out from his bag and started to write something on it. Keaton sat down near him.

- Getting your hands in another story? - the warrior asked, smiling.

- Not this time, no. I like recording everything we do with the Inquisition. Maybe someday it'll become an epic story, and our fans would like to have the details.

They both giggled. Somehow, there was a special bond between them, a bond made of respect and trust. The dwarf lit up his pipe.

- And what about the story you were working on back in Vintiver? - Keaton inquired.

- Well, I'd been talking with Varric Tethras. I bet you've read something from him.... - as the warrior denied with his head, the dwarf sighed and went on talking. - He's a well-known writer and, by some quirk of fate, he's with the Inquisition, too. I gave him the draft of the novel I was writing, so I hope he can tell me once we come back from this mission if my story is good enough to be published. Maybe I can make some money out of it!