Andraste's Chevalier

Chapter 14- Hired Work

"Ferelden's recent past is a history that I am well acquainted with. A war-ravaged country that has never fully recovered as a whole. Turmoil on the countryside has bred desperation which in turn has cultivated widespread chaos in the populace..."

- From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood

The sun had long since fallen off the horizon, replaced by two pale half-moons. On Azeroth, the moons were larger, the White lady drifting across the sky with the Blue Child following behind her. The ones I looked up to were more akin to twins and another reminder that I was no longer home. They also provided only a fraction of the light.

The shadows cast by the dark corners of the city, normally restrained by the sun, now stretched out well into the streets. The only sounds were the faint echoes of conversation from the inns and taverns throughout the city. The final oases of activity in a quiet world.

I continued my march through the city roads. There was a part of me that wished to join that quiet world and take a nice long rest. However, I had an obligation to fulfill.

Flickers of light passed every now and then. They were either twinkles of burning midnight oil from windows or the occasional torch from a passing patrol. The city guards were out in force now, more so than they were in the day. However, they didn't seem to mind me, they seemed more interested in keeping vagrants off the streets.

The pain in my feet was returning, mainly from stepping on uneven cobblestone for most of the day. At least I wasn't lugging the extra weight of my travelpack, a fact my shoulders and back were infinitely grateful for. It was set off in my room at the closest tavern I could find to the west gate. The place itself was shabby and my room smelled like sweat and grime left by occupants' past, but I was hardly in the mood to find better quarters. Time had been running short and it was the place I trusted myself to be able to find my way back to in the middle of the night. Now, the only added weight was Captain Falmore's sword off the side of my belt and the Lorekeeper's disc sitting in a pouch.

My stomach growled again, reminding me of my hunger and the parched feeling in my throat. I recalled the smell of roasted stew in the inn. The mugs a few patrons had with what looked like beer or perhaps mead. I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind. Hopefully it would be available once the night's mission ended.

The west gate was visible now. Fires flickered from the guard posts above the walls. Past it was the countryside, littered with campfires near the vagrant camps outside the city. Beyond those was a rolling landscape of black and gray colors.

Wind blew past me, and I shivered as the cold air sent goosebumps shriveling up my arms. I kept my arms just a bit closer to my body. I had an old coat that Aunt Tiana bought for me that I had left at my quarters in the Badlands. It wasn't much use in the melting sunlight, but I really wished I brought it with me. The chill was enough for me to consider better clothes as a higher priority the next time opportunity I would get to scrounge for supplies.

There were several figures holding torches and huddled by the wall. They weren't guards, that much I was certain of. That must be who I was supposed to meet. I stepped towards them.

I was able to make out the shapes as I grew closer. Four of them stood in a circle. They wore plate armor that flickered in the firelight. The wind didn't seem to bother them. Fur puffed out of the creases around their breastplates. I felt but a tinge of envy at their warm clothes.

There was one more. He was perched on a crate, noticeably separate from the others. It was the fighter from earlier, the one with the dagger. I think Knives was what they called him by. He still had the shawl wrapped around his face, leaving just a gap between his eyes.