Welcome to Kirkwall - Chapter 1

Welcome to Kirkwall

Chapter 1: Following Trouble and the Trouble that Follows

Lyra Mahariel walked the bustling throng that was Kirkwall's Lowtown. Her wild mass of almost blood red hair hung in waves down her back. She had tried earlier to tie it up off her neck in an attempt at keeping cool in the Kirkwall heat but it seemed to have a mind of its own and had untied itself almost immediately, so she gave up. It was times like this that she missed Ferelden. It was cooler there, and her thick hair was an asset. Now she was seriously considering shaving her head. Wouldn't that be a sight, she thought, grinning to herself. Being an elf, she was shorter than most of the humans on the street, but her icy grey eyes, the determined set of her jaw and confident attitude more than made up for her smallish stature. The ornate twin daggers strapped to her back probably didn't hurt, either. People tended to move out of the way of the armed and well armored, no matter their height.

It was strange to Lyra to walk along a street and have no one recognize or even notice her. Since slaying the Archdemon and in so doing ending the Blight almost before it began, it seemed she had rarely had a moments peace in Ferelden, and never would have been able to walk so calmly through a crowded street such as this without someone recognizing her. And once one of them did, she sighed to herself, they all did. She had to admit, she was enjoying her anonymity in Kirkwall. She didn't have to watch what she said or did here because no one cared. In Ferelden there seemed to be always someone watching to see what she would do next. She never really cared about what people thought of her but as Alistair had pointed out, she was a Grey Warden, and Hero of Ferelden. She needed to be the kind of person people could look up to and want to emulate, because they would, either way.

Heady stuff to put on an elf, Lyra had thought. But knew it was true. When she had started that journey such a long time ago, being a Grey Warden meant nothing to her, less than nothing. It was a curse. As far as she was concerned the Wardens had stolen her away from her life and her people. And when they had been all but destroyed at Ostegar she had seen it as her chance to escape, go back to her people, find what she'd lost, and forget about the Blight. But Alistair had pleaded with her. He had just lost everyone he cared about, he told her, don't you abandon me too. So she had stayed. She swore an oath that she would stay with him until it was over, but she demanded a promise of assistance from him in return. He had never had to fulfil his end of the bargain. She found who she was looking for without his help, or more accurately, Tamlen had found her...

She shook her head, as though the action could dislodge such dismal thoughts from her mind. It had been so long ago it hardly seemed real anymore. And yet there were days like this, when it seemed to have all happened just yesterday and she found she could think of little else. She found herself wondering what Tamlen would have thought of the city, and the crowds. They had grown up together in one of the wandering Dalish clans, and life seemed all set out before them, living the simple life of the Dalish and eventually growing old together. Such was not to be, however. In one day, everything she knew, or thought she knew, had changed. Tamlen had been... taken. She had been forced to become a Grey Warden to save her life, supposedly, and, as the Fates would have it, to save the lives of everyone else as well.

Hero of Ferelden. Even after all these years the title still sounded strange to her. She was an elf, she had no business with humans, yet she had fought for them, nearly died for them, and for what? What did she have to show for it all but the memories of all she'd lost? There were still times she longed for the simple life of her people. She could always go back, she told herself. But she knew it was a lie. She could never go back, not after everything that happened. She was a different person now, after all, hadn't it been her own Keeper that had cast her out? For her own good, perhaps, but still. Would they even accept her now? She still wondered at one of their last conversations, when Tamlen had jokingly said she enjoyed being away from the camp so much, she would probably end up living in one of the cities with all the shems. He had meant it as a joke, and she had scoffed at this, both of them laughing at the very idea of Lyra Mahariel living alongside humans. Yet here she was, in one of the largest cities in Thedas, far from her homeland, her people, and everything she knew.

She let herself be carried along by the press of people in the street, unminding of the jostling, while her mind wandered the halls of memory, until she felt a hand on her arm, dragging her into an alley. She stared at the grime encrusted fingers for a moment before her eyes travelled to the mans face. He was grinning drunkenly, a fact further evidenced by the potent stench of cheap ale.

"Hey there, girly," the human said through distinctly yellowing teeth. "Wanna have some fun with good ol' Marlon?"

"Not particularly," Lyra grimaced, making no effort to hide her disgust.

"I think can make you change your mind," he sneered, pulling a small dagger from his waist band.

Thats it? She thought. He's trying to threaten me with a butter knife? She wanted to laugh in his face, pull her own daggers and gut the man, let him bleed out on the cobbles as he watched his own entrails quivering beside him. But no, she was new to this city, and even if no one recognized her, she was still a Grey Warden, and had a reputation to uphold. Damn Alistair and his damn morality, she cursed to herself. That bastards rubbing off on me... Royal bastard, she mentally corrected.

The man referring to himself as Marlon, was pulling her towards him, leering and waggling the knife at her. "I sincerely doubt you could," Lyra said finally.

"Wha'?" he said, evidently puzzled. Not an uncommon expression, she was sure.

"I sincerely doubt you could," she repeated, "Think, that is." With that she hit him with a roundhouse blow that had all the power in her compact 5'4" frame as well as a prejudice against humans that stemmed from hundreds of years of Dalish history. She heard a sickening crack as fist met bone and wondered briefly if she had broken the mans jaw or her own hand. Her second blow caught him the the ribs and she landed two more to the same spot before he fell, groaning and spitting blood.

She heard a sharp whistle and almost instantly she was grabbed and inexpertly disarmed by two well armoured guards who dragged her away from the man as she kicked and fought them halfheartedly.

Once in Hightown, and safely away from the prying eyes and ears of the peasantry she calmed down and walked with the two guardsmen peacefully enough as they probed her for information. Who was she? They asked. What was she doing in Lowtown? Why did she attack that man? She responded to none of these. She was surprised that she was even getting this kind of treatment. Most guards she knew upon encountering an elf in the process of beating a human half to death would have simply thrown her down the nearest hole and left her to rot. She supposed the fact that she was well fed and not dressed in rags had given them enough pause to let one of their superiors deal with her. Lyra had heard that the Captain of the Guard was Ferelden, and might therefore be able to see past, 'elf attacks human' and perhaps be interested in the truth of the matter.

They arrived at the guard post and locked her in a windowless stone walled room barely large enough for the table and chair that occupied it, she waited silently as armed guards paced the worn floor boards around her asking their tiresome questions which she largely ignored. She sat in the cell, for lack of a better word, after the most recent interrogator had given up, leaving her alone in the room aside from the single guard at the door, and idly rubbed the hand that had connected with 'good ol' Marlon's jaw. It had started to throb and if someone didn't suggest getting the Captain soon, she was going to have to do it herself just to get a lousy binding for it.

A short time later she heard voices from the corridor, one in particular sounding very loud, very impatient, and very in charge. Finally, she thought, and the door opened.

To say that the woman before her had not been what she expected, would be an understatement. She had not expected a woman, to start with. A Ferelden Guard Captain was unlikely enough, but a woman as well? It was unheard of. The Captain was tall with reddish orange hair, and fierce green eyes. Even without the seemingly permanent expression of disapproval, her strong angular features bore the mark of someone who brooked no argument, and accepted no excuses.

When she had barged into the room, she had looked about to launch into a verbal tirade, but at the sight of Lyra, looking calmly up from her chair, she stopped in her tracks, utterly speechless. Then she slowly turned to the guard at the door and said simply, "Leave us."

"But Captain, it took three of us just to get her off Marlon and back to the cell," the guard protested, obviously shocked at the unexpected order.

"She let you bring her here," the Captain said, now studying Lyra intently.

"Let us?!" he exclaimed. "She-"

"I gave you an order, constable." And then, seeing the way Lyra was holding her hand, said, "And bring bandages for the Makers sake."

"I- Yes, Captain." And without another word, the two women were alone in the room. Lyra waited for the Captain to speak first. She needed to know what kind of person she was dealing with before she revealed anything. That the Captain recognized her was obvious. She guessed that a lot of Fereldens would. But whether that recognition would be an asset or a liability remained to be seen. The two women studied one another, like rival dogs circling each other stiff-legged, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

The Constable returned with an injury kit and left it on the table without a word. The Captain nodded to him as he left but otherwise said nothing. She pushed the kit across the table to Lyra who gave a faint smile of appreciation and began wrapping the injured hand. Finally, the Captain spoke. "I am Aveline Vallen, Captain of the Guard for the city of Kirkwall. I would ask your name but that doesn't really seem necessary, Hero of Ferelden..." Lyra's eyes narrowed but she remained silent. Aveline looked slightly annoyed and getting no response from the title, but continued, in an even more businesslike manner. "You attacked a man in Lowtown in an alley without provocation, whereupon my guards brought you here where you have proven to be very uncooperative. Hero or no, I do demand justice in my city." Still silence. With a sigh of exasperation Aveline said, "Are you going to answer my questions, or am I wasting my time here?"

"I will answer any question you put to me," Lyra said simply and shrugged. "As of yet you have asked me none."

Another frustrated sigh. "Very well, we'll try the direct approach. Why did you attack that man?"

"He desired female companionship, the kind I was not willing to give. He tried to force the issue and I communicated to him that his attentions were unwelcome." She said it like it had been the simplest thing in the world, a misunderstanding between two reasonable individuals.

"Three cracked ribs and a broken jaw?" Aveline asked, eyebrow raised.

"Come now, Captain," Lyra smiled conspiratorially. "You and I both know that pain is the only language some people understand."

The corner of Aveline's mouth lifted imperceptibly. "Indeed. And the three guards you assaulted as they were bringing you in?"

"Oh, that was a favour to you, Captain," Lyra said, still smiling. Aveline's eyebrows arched in disbelief. "In my few short years dealing with your kind I have learned the importance of appearance and perception. Tell me, how would it look if a wild Dalish elf attacked one of Kirkwalls citizens and the guards thereof simply escorted her away as if she were some foreign dignitary?" Aveline frowned. "Whereas this way, all the crowd really saw was some crazed elf attacking some man in and alley and promptly being hauled off by the guard, kicking and screaming." She smiled at the cleverness of it all, but the Captain was still scowling. "Honestly, I was surprised enough they didn't throw me in the nearest ditch, but if they had tried," she paused meaningfully. "I'm sure you know I didn't have to let them take me at all... I was trying to be... polite."

Avaline Vallen sighed again and shook her head in resignation. "The gentleman in question will be investigated thoroughly once he recovers sufficiently from his... injuries."

"So I am free to go?" Lyra said, rising from her chair.

"Not just yet." She raised a hand and motioned Lyra back into her chair. The elf in front of her had not been what she had expected. She hadn't been expecting the Hero of Ferelden to be sitting in her interrogation room for starters. And here she was, calm as you please, expecting... Expecting what? "It's a matter of curiosity, really," she said at last, "but I must ask, what are you doing in Kirkwall?"

If Lyra was surprised by the question, she did not show it. "Am I not welcome?"

"Not exactly," Aveline said, choosing her words carefully. "From all we have heard about you, it seems trouble tends to follow you like a Mabari war-hound to its master." Lyra grinned at the distinctly Ferelden analogy. "And at present," Aveline continued, "Kirwall has enough troubles of its own. I simply wish to know what I should be expecting."

Lyra had heard of Kirkwalls troubles, and though not her primary goal, she was concerned. Technically she could not get involved, but these problems could not simply be ignored. It seemed a war was brewing, between the Templars and the mages. More specifically, between Knight Commander Meredith and the First Enchanter. If the two sides did start openly fighting one another, it would become very difficult not to get involved, for anyone.

"Do not worry yourself," Lyra said, "I am here recruiting for the Grey Wardens. No serious trouble could arise from that, I'm sure." It wasn't a lie, not really. "And, as a point of interest, in my experience its the Mabari that does the leading, and its master that does the following." She smiled jovially and received a begrudging grin in response. "Speaking of which, I wonder where he's got to?"

"Where who go to?"

"My Mabari," Lyra said simply.

Aveline froze. "Are you saying there is a war-hound loose in my city?"

"Oh, don't look so concerned," Lyra said dismissively. "He won't kill anyone unless they really deserve it, or if they try to scratch him behind the ears... In that case he may slobber them to death." This got another appreciative grin. "He wandered off shortly after we arrived, I think he picked up the scent of spiced meats or something. He always finds me again though."

As if on cue there was a loud bark from outside the room, then the sound of something, or someone, crashing violently to the floor. There was a brief cry of "Who let that damn dog in?!", before the door burst open and a blur of muscles, teeth, fur, and slobber, cannoned into the room.

"There's Trouble," Lyra said smiling broadly as the dog wagged his hindquarters and barked happily.

"He seems to have developed a taste for the food here. Or whats left of it anyway," she said, picking a slimy banana peel from the dogs back. He nudged Lyra's leg and looked from Aveline to Lyra expectantly. "Ahh, yes introductions. This is Aveline, she's a friend." She said the word 'friend' very deliberately. She didn't really need to, the dog understood more of what was going on around him than most people did, but it tended to set peoples minds at ease if they thought the dog knew they were a friend and therefore off limits in the biting department.

The big dog made his way towards Aveline, sat down on his haunches and raised a paw, which Aveline took and gave it an exaggerated shake. "Please to meet you," she said. The dog barked.

"That is very un-mabari like behaviour, you know," Lyra reprimanded in mock disapproval. The mabari looked at her and if it was possible for a dog to shrug, this one managed it, then went on grinning as only a mabari can.

Lyra smiled at the dog and shook her head, then said to Aveline. "I shall be on my way then, unless there is anything else?"

"No, that should suffice. I would recommend going to the Amell Estate and seeing Garrett Hawke, though."

Lyra stopped in mid stride for the door. "And why is that?"

"Well other than being a fellow Ferelden, he is the Champion of Kirkwall. I would imagine you two will have much in common." Lyra rankled a bit at being called a Ferelden. She was a Dalush, and the Dalish gave little regard for human land names and their borders. But she supposed, as she was now being called the Hero of Ferelden, it was a distinction that few were likely to make. "Also," Aveline continued, "he owns the estate and would likely be willing to provide you with accommodation if you desired."

At this Lyra balked, "I will not reside under a humans roof."

"Ahh, yes. I'd forgotten. You have a reputation for your hatred of humans."

Lyra waved a hand dismissively. "That is not entirely accurate. I only hold hatred for the humans who are deserving of it. And rest assured that those humans are deserving of yours as well." Aveline gave her a sidelong glance. "I was protesting the arrangement more in thought of his reputation than mine. I will not be seen as a human lords mistress, nor will I facilitate the belief that he has one. I have made other arrangements, in any case."

"Very well," she paused suddenly curious. "Won't the King be missing you while you are here in Kirkwall?"

"I sincerely doubt it. Alistair has matters of state to contend with as well as a new wife. I imagine he will be quite too busy to worry about me. In truth, I imagine he is quite glad to be ride of me for a time." Lyra gave her a sly smile, "As you say, death follows me." She turned and strode confidently out the door, her dog following obediently behind her.

Aveline leaned on the rough hewn desk and stared after her thinking intently on their conversation. "I said 'trouble'..." she mused quietly to herself. "What is she planning?"