Andraste's Chevalier

Chapter 22- Questions

"That was my first encounter with the race of creatures known as the Darkspawn. The Chantry states they rose as a result of the "Second Sin", although whether or not this lends more towards myth or truth remains uncertain. All I know is that they are the cause of great ill and destruction on this world, their influence shifting between a mere nuisance to a catastrophe.

I remain puzzled as to what happened in that final chamber where I found the artifact. At first, I thought it was a mere illusion spell designed to trap intruders. However, I can still recall everything that I saw, most notably that black citadel floating in the horizon. Whether it was indeed some illusion, or a side-effect of the substance known as lyrium, or simple battle-fatigue, remains indeterminate."

- From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood

The river of people split, giving me a wide berth, as they drifted down the steps leading up to the Chantry. There was a reason, but smell wasn't why. I took a long wash in one of the rivers, immediately after concluding my business with Taoran's employers. The scent from the foray into the Deep Roads still lingered, so I had taken a second wash in the tavern the night before and again during this morning, with some fat-cream mixture the locals considered soap.

The real reason was trifold. First, was my newly acquired breastplate, which had clearly identified me as not just a mercenary, but a Blackstone Irregular, who were rather well-regarded in this city as trained fighters.

Second, was the disheveled mass of hair that had grown out from my chin, below my nose, and past my ears, which had me looking a tad bit unhinged. The tight expression across my mouth, and the beads of sweat clinging to the hairs from the exertion of hauling a chest of silver coins did not help either.

And third was the sword on my belt. I caught one too many people staring at the jingling coins the moment I left, drawn to it like rats to some piper's tune. The Lorekeeper had been warning me of threats every so odd moment since I began walking here. As far as I knew, the blade was the only thing keeping them at bay.

The surge of departing people lowered to a trickle as the last of the congregation finally emptied out of the building. I could have arrived earlier, but I was in no hurry to be part of a captive audience to another sermon. Today was to be business, first and foremost.

I skulked up the stairs toward the open doorway. An old man with white hair led by two women in plainclothes, were approaching my direction. They took one look at me, the fear plain on their faces, and hurried away sideways.

I shrugged and crossed from the stone steps and to the red carpet of the Chantry. It was empty here, a few sisters and brothers milling about. No templars in sight, thank the Light for that.

My eyes zeroed in on Sister Rivera, who was sitting by the same table leading up the stairs the last time I saw her. I jaunted over to her, coins clacking in the chest along the way.

The noise drew her attention, and she moved her eyes up to me from the parchment that she was writing on.

"Hello Sister Rivera, I've come to-"

"Oh hello!" she said then her expression shifted to puzzlement to horror as she pointed at my side. Not the one with the chest but the one with the sword.

The realization hit me at the same moment. Weapons weren't allowed here. I also realized at that moment this fact had drawn every single eye in the Chantry towards me.