Legend (Dragon Age Origins)

Chapter 4: The Grey Wardens

KNOWING THAT FURTHER COMPLAINTS WOULD FALL ON DEAF EARS, Dru was forced to follow Alistair as he guided her through the camp. He happily pointed out the various stations and would occasionally share whispered gossip about the soldiers and workers, whose lives Dru did not care for.

She detested his company. She had known many humans throughout her life and none of them had been kind. So it was strange to find herself in the company of someone like Alistair. He was unguarded, simple, and intolerably cheerful. She counted the steps she took from Duncan, waiting for the moment his eyes would turn cold and he would threaten her, and the difference between them would become absolute.

The butchery had set up shop on the outskirts of the camp, nestled beneath the shadow of what appeared to have once been a chapel. Plumes of smoke rose from burning furnaces, carrying with them the rich scent of bacon. Dru's stomach growled in response, eliciting an amused grin from Alistair.

Leaning over a fallen slab that sectioned off the shop, he hailed the butcher, whose exhaustion seemed to grow at the mere sight of him. His attempts at haggling caused Dru to roll her eyes. While she couldn't claim to know what had brought the ex-Templar into the employ of the Grey Wardens, it was clear that he was used to a sheltered life. She had certainly never heard the phrases "pretty please" and "aw, come on" when she had worked at the Alienage's marketplace.

Leaving Alistair to his bartering, Dru wandered through the stalls. With significantly less traffic in this area, the workers were able to focus on their craft while their elven servants ran supplies back and forth from the army camp.

At the end of the chapel wall, a palisade of wooden stakes formed a fortified barrier, separating the camp from the Korcari Wilds. Along the fence stood several pens, each containing a large, tan-coloured hound. An older man in muddy overalls fed the dogs large chunks of meat. His voice was raised as he berated the dogs, urging them to stop their cacophonous barking.

A smithy was built on the other side, encompassed by a large forge made of red clay bricks. Three timber tables were placed in a triangle-formation in front of the forge, each adorned with a varied assortment of bows, maces, axes, and blades. The blacksmith was currently bent over a grindstone as he worked on refining a rather large broadsword made of dark onyx.

Dru stolled between the tables, her index finger trailing over the fine collection of weapons. Her reflection followed her in odd shapes on the surface of the shiny metal, stopping upon landing on a thick leather belt. The belt had an attachment that fastened around the upper thigh and was lined with a series of small sheaths, each holding a small throwing knife securely within. Two small pouches rested at the back of the belt, no doubt for storing poisons that the knives could first be dipped in before finding their target.

She reached out and gently removed one of the knives from its sheath; its slender blade ran the length of her finger. The hilt was curved, allowing each to slot comfortably between her knuckles, adorned with small gemstones at each end.

"Put that down!"

Dru startled, dropping the knife, which bounced across the table and landed beneath a crossbow. A burly man stormed towards her, his ash-streaked face contorted in anger.

He snatched the belt from the table and inspected it. "Fucking knife-eared thief," he spat, returning the fallen knife to its sheath.

Dru felt a hot fury bubbling inside her chest, erasing her shock. She could hear Duncan's voice in the back of her mind, imploring her to set aside her anger as she had promised. But his words were faint, as if muffled by a closed door. She'd been called 'knife ears' more times than she could count and accused of stealing nearly half as much. Yet, there was something about this man and this location—a place where she thought she had escaped such derogatory treatment—that incited a fury she hadn't felt since she'd slit Vaughan's throat.