Baleful Wings (Dragon's Dogma Fanfiction)

Chapter 43: Fortitude

Having made a full recovery from her injuries, the Arisen Arya and her pawn Ceres moved their belongings to the inn. Being primarily a woman of The Faith, Arya felt more comfortable among clergy than the lobby of the inn, but she got somewhat sick of being directed to the Abbey along with the nuns. Besides, it was easier to keep up with the latest happenings in Gran Soren from Asalam's establishment than the hostel of a cathedral in the noble quarter. Apparently, a famous aristocrat under the name of Fournival stood trial for some recent allegations. Arya had no interest in this, as she had little trust for nobles as of late anyway.
"There you are," said a cockney feminine voice, sniffling a bit at the end of her statement. A noticeably short woman with pixied red hair, it was none other than Ser Thorne, one of the members of the Enlistment Corps. Instead of the typical armor of a Gransys knight, she wore an ebony neck wrap, black Meloirean armor on her legs and arms, and a grey surcoat with the Faith's insignia embroidered in its center. "Get a wee bit in the way of coin and shed your troubles, eh?"

Somehow, Arya understood that Thorne's slang suggested that she had become distant after being awarded a generous amount of gold from the Duke.
"I've just been busy, for true. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"The only pleasured lass 'ere is you. 'Ave your wounds 'ealed? Should you be up trottin' and tumblin' after that last scrap?" Thorne's worried face was quite different than the roughneck Arya was familiar with, her big misty green eyes eager for a response.
She smiled in return, unsure if she should mention that as the Arisen, her wounds heal unnaturally fast. "I'm fine, ser, I promise. Pray tell, how fares everyone else?"
Thorne folded her arms, still glancing over Arya's body for injuries. "Well, 'tis the first time any of us 'ave ever seen so much gold, so.. the men are wasting it on drinks and 'ores. Been clasping it tight, myself."
Arya tilted her head, "Why?"
"Because when this is all over, I fancy the thought of becoming a noblewoman. Make my parents proud, it would." After a moment of silence, she turned her glare back at Arya, "Never mind that. I ain't lettin' you wander about all alone what with all this danger about."
"Well, I have Ceres."
"And you got me too. Women aught to stick together." At this point, Thorne had already scooted pretty close to the Arisen, making it clear that she wasn't taking no for an answer. "Even men under oath find reason to abandon each other in times of need."
Arya's head tilted at that comment, silently processing it before remembering that during their scrimmage with the Chimera, the Enlistment Corps was supposed to receive reinforcements from Windbluff Tower.

"Where does it all go?!" Asked Thorne in awe of Arya's appetite, who only shrugged and kept eating. Ceres ate quietly, sitting delicately with her exposed legs crossed. Around them, the capitol is bustling with news of some trial concerning some noble or another. Knights, peasants and aristocrats alike rally in the streets over the news - even as far as a group of singers cheering for the noble's execution. Even with all the scrambling about, the citizens of Gran Soren all gave off a strange vibe, like everyone served one haughty lord or another. She easily spotted how people passed around notes and secret greetings to each other, reminding her of Karel's comment "Knights hunting Knights." The dark stench of conspiracy slowly enveloped Gran Soren the longer she stayed here. The alehouse was full of traffic, but a certain man caught Arya's attention, peacefully enjoying a serving of ox tail with steamed carrots.
"Ser Mustache!" She said, inviting herself to a seat at his table. The knight quickly wiped his mouth, displaying a skill of efficiently cleaning the thick brown waft of hair above his lips, no doubt attained by many years of being mustached.
"What a surprise," he responded, making a welcoming gesture with his hand. "And the beautiful Ser Ceres." Gerard waived for a server, before observing Arya modestly shaking her head. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Arya leaned forward, her eyes shifting smoothly between both sides.
"Here comes the Duke's Arisen, and Ser Castor's with him!" A crowd loomed around Shingen as he stopped through the alehouse while escorting a fighter from Windbluff Tower. Thorne helped herself to join the bustling, primarily to snoop for any information from the soldier.

Ignoring the clamoring, Arya stared into's Gerard's eyes, "I've a need of info, Ser 'Stache, anything of aught use."
"Well, most of my knowledge is confidential, Ser," replied the seasoned knight. Arya frowned in disappointment, slightly biting the side of her bottom lip.
"You promised that we could come to you, should we need you," inserted Ceres, staring at him with folded arms. "Unless of course a knight can't be trusted to keep his word."
Gerard's glare darted to the side with compressed lips, making his hope that they wouldn't mention his promise quite visible. "Okay, fine. There's an investigation afoot. An investigation of Salomet."
"The Sorcerer from the forest!" The Hearthstone girl spared no dignity.
"Arya...! You don't want to pick a fight with him." Gerard's eyes flared intensely, but the Arisen would not falter. Taking a deep breath, he looked around a bit before leaning forward. "He was the head of Gran Soren's High Wizardry," whispered Gerard. "Before stealing their secrets and killing them all in cold blood." The mustached man shook his head at the thought of it all. "Good standing members of the Faith, they were."