“My name is Serina.” She said, her voice raspy from the clutch of the taint, but still clear enough to be understood. “May I call you Joras?” She leaned on her staff, strong enough to walk, but not enough to be in command of all of her strength. “I really hope this mysterious joining ritual is soon.” She laughed a bit, the effort forcing her into a minor coughing fit.
“Of course, Joras is a fine name I think,” he said, his every word and movement speaking of a well-brought up nobleman. “It won’t be much longer, Duncan will want to proceed as quickly as possible to ensure your…safety.” At the last bit, his smiled widened and it almost seemed as if he had to stifle a schoolgirl’s giggle. A quick moment and he composed himself, gesturing down the bridge.
“I suggest we hurry, so that we miss the Queen and the Teyrn. Teyrn Loghain is not fond of us Wardens even in the best of times.”
“Well, if you’re taking me to some healers, I can manage to hurry. I’m sure I’ve already kept you long enough.” She followed as he began to cross the bridge, his eyes gazing over the valley that the bridge crossed over, towards the hills that the Darkspawn horde supposedly was marching through. “Who is Teyrn Loghain?” She asked.
“You must have heard of Loghain Mac Tir? Hero…” his voice trailed off and he gave her a long look over, “You must be Dalish!” he said, his voice suddenly rising with a bit of excitement.
“Loghain is a nobleman, ruler of the Gwaren teyrnir. Here, Teyrns are second only to royalty, and his is one of only two families to possess the title.” Joras fell silent for a moment for a moment before he continued, “He was a commoner years ago, and during the Orlesian occupation of Ferelden he became the right hand man of King Maric. He’s one of the finest military minds Ferelden has ever birthed, responsible for many of the victories over the forces of Orlais.” The words weren’t spoken with awe or admiration, but rather as a cold explanation, as if he had been taught them as facts.
They had crossed the bridge, and Joras led them to the right, avoiding the mages that were supposedly visiting the fade. He continued, “He’d take his own life if it meant protecting Ferelden. As the Grey Wardens have only recently been allowed to return to this country, he doesn’t fully trust us, still thinks we’ll plot to overthrow the government.”
As they rounded a corner, they came upon a rather…unique sight. A golem, far biggre than any normal man, stumbled into a crumbling wall and brought it to the ground, sending stones the size of a man’s head flying. Men shouted and ran for cover, afraid the beast would become violent and turn on them.
Instead, the massive creature fell to its knees, the sigils engraved on its ‘flesh’ glowing a deep green. No voice escaped from its lips, but flowers, previously dead or dying after being trampled by the armored feet of soldiers, began to bloom in a circle around the golem. Vines slithered up and wrapped themselves around trees in a loving embrace, turning the leaves to a deep orange, as if they were in the middle of fall.
“Andraste's burnt arse!” Joras barked, his voice full of...joy, and his right hand reaching for one of his veridium shortswords that he wore in the harness.