“Many in the city are left to the mercy of unseen assailants and thugs.”

From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood

I stepped to the outskirts of the market with my two latest purchases. A leather-bound bag-pack slung around my shoulders and the cloth bandages packed inside it.

The bagpack bordered somewhere between necessity and luxury. The rope straps from the one I looted off the Deep Roads left uncomfortable red marks along my shoulders. The bandages were strictly necessity. I had exhausted the last bits of my last set padding the blisters on my feet. The venture into the Deep Roads with Taoran, and all the walking I did with Kallian in the last few days took a steep toll. One that my feet reminded me of with a jolt of pain from each sobering step.

At least I wouldn’t have to worry about doing the same to my shoulders. A few more days of lugging the old sack around would have left them in the same sorry state.

The old sack was sitting in my room, and I remembered that in the bottom of it was a letter addressed to a Sister Cecilia in the Chantry. I didn’t know what sort of relationship the dead kid had with her, but she probably deserved to know what happened. I made a mental note to deliver it the next time I had reason to go to the Chantry.

Madame Lebois’ bakery was my next destination. I was actually looking forward to it. It wasn’t bad coin, and if I was honest, I did enjoy the work.

A caravan of laborers with stacks of boxes on their backs forced people aside. I looped in behind them, letting them pave the way ahead and out.

Before I reached one of the exit roads, my ears were drawn toward the clings and clangs coming from the north. My eyes soon followed toward a familiar mass of tents, open furnaces, and soot-covered buildings belching smoke.

The blacksmith quarters were the same as I recalled it. Men and the occasional woman working out in the open, hammering metal ingots into useful tools. I had entertained being a blacksmith a few years back. All it looked like was smashing things with a hammer, which wasn’t a far cry from what I did in the last four years. A dream that was dashed when Bluebeard told me about the whole process of becoming one.

Like how herbalists needed to know the ins and outs of every single plant, to include where they grew and when it was time to harvest them, a smith needed to know the ins and outs of every ore, every ingot, along with the tools and procedures to shape it. Becoming an apprentice took 10 years of practice and study. Another 10 years to becoming an amateur journeyman, another 10 years to be considered an expert, and another 10 to be an artisan at which point I could make a living off the work. The sheer time commitment was why it was so rare to see human blacksmiths.

That same time commitment also made me question the quality of the goods made here, but I couldn’t be too picky. It wasn’t like I was going to be facing creatures on Azeroth. The darkspawn I met in the Deep Roads came close, but I doubt that was going to be the norm going ahead. I was quite intent to avoid putting myself in danger whenever possible. If only to keep the Lorekeeper from being a bit less twitchy.

I had some spare coin and I could always use some extra padding so I made up my mind and pulled away to a familiar soot covered brick building.

I opened the door and a burst of heat billowed past my face, smelling strongly of ash and metal. The air inside was sizzling, giving everything an odd distortion like the horizon in the Badlands when the afternoon sun drew down with its full fury.

“Greetings!” a voice said. “Welcome to-oh… Another Blackstone Irregular…”

Across from me, was Wade’s assistant, Herren, wearing a simple green tunic. How anyone could work or talk or sell goods in the sweltering heart was beyond me. Across from him was a brown counter, kept clean of the soot that had soaked into everything else inside.

His eyes brightened up however, when he recognized his latest customer.

“Oh! Why if it isn’t you. Eratus right?”

“Herren.” I tried to keep my words short to avoid breathing in the fumes and coughing. “Good to see you again.”

“Don’t mind whatever I said earlier.” He stepped forward from behind the counter. “I always respect a man that has his eye towards a fair trade.”

We shook hands.

“Come in. Come in.” He gestured me inside. “What can we do for you?”

We stepped to the center of the building. The room wasn’t as brightly lit as last time, with the only light streaming from the few windows around the walls. The furnace was out, and in the absence of its glow, everything, from the tools littered about to the anvils, was left dark and gray.

“Is Wade around?” I asked.

“Master Wade is… currently outside the city.” Herren scratched the back of his head. “Visiting one of the farms.”

“Oh, didn’t take him to be a farmer.”

“No, he isn’t.” Herren shook his head. “The master is always looking to push the boundaries of his craft, always on the hunt for some single ingredient or material to hone his next endeavor. Unfortunately, he tends to be a bit impulsive about such matters, and once a thought enters his mind, he remains attached to it with complete conviction. In this case, it is pigshit.”

“Pigshit?”

“Yes… pigshit. He believes it might strengthen metal. Something to do with bonding or such. I certainly intend to not be here while he figures that out.”

“That… makes sense,” I said. I had a feeling they weren’t going to have very many customers while it was taking place.

“However, I do worry and hope he returns soon. There are rumors abound of people disappearing throughout the city.”

“I heard of that,” I said. “A lot of the vagrant camps outside have cleared out as well. Do you think they are connected?”

“Who knows? But nobody cares about those ruffians. In fact, I thank the Maker their lot is gone. Anyhow, what would you be looking for? I see that you have already garnered a new suit of armor.”

“Yes… I scavenged it off a corpse.”

“Ah… Ghastly business, mercenary work. Still, what can I say. Where there is a demand for swords, there is a demand for someone to hold them.”

“Unfortunate indeed. I was just looking to peruse through some of your wares. Just wanted to take a look.”

“Hm…” He brought a hand to his chin. “We haven’t had a customer come in yet without a specific requisition. However... Would you mind following me?”

He led me to a trapdoor in the corner of the room, and opened the iron lock that bound it. The wooden platform opened, sending dust spewing everywhere.

There was a set of stairs leading down and a torch hoisted against the stone wall. Wade lit the torch and led me forward.

By the time we reached the floor, I noticed glints in the darkness reflecting back the light from the torch. As we stepped closer, I realized the glints was from metal. Specifically, the metal of piles of armor and weapons, stacked on top of each other. A hill of tools sloping from the ground to the top of the room.

“You see,” said Herren. “Master Wade leaves a lot of waste in his quest for perfection. He discards that which he deems less than perfect, but I find it far too much of a waste to throw out perfectly good pieces of equipment.”

“So this.” He gestured at the trove. “Is where they end up. Master Wade mainly works on commission so I haven’t found anyone to buy it. At least not yet.”

I perused through the mound. Plate helms, some with visors, others with static openings. Breastplates and undergarment chainmail vests of all sizes and fits. Vambraces, leather and metal. Axes, swords, and daggers. All sheathed of course. My eyes wandered over to a few of the single-handed warhammers.

I wasn’t a big judge on quality, mostly I trusted whatever I was issued. However, the pieces that I saw here were looked to be of fairly good design.

“I think I could make use of a few things here.”

“Perfect!” said Herren. “For the right price of course.”

Flour fluffed out in a spray of white dust as I peppered it over the lump of dough. I held my breath in. It was not good to sneeze where I was working.

Once it settled, my hands moved in to knead the dough. First out then back in. A bit of stretching and a few folds to add texture to the final product. It was a rote and exact process with little margin for error. A few twists and turns and I slapped the finished mound next to the others on the tray.

“You are really quite good at this!”

Madame Lebois appeared on my right, wearing a stained white apron over a blue dress. Her blonde locks were tied back into a bun, covered by a white cloth. She picked up and inspected one of the pieces of dough on the palm of her hand.

“Ah, I used to help my Aunt with something similar,” I said, while my hands moved to get another mound of dough ready. “Looks like some of the skills carried over.”

It was true. Kneading and preparing dough was not all too dissimilar to preparing herbs. Each required an exact precision with one’s hands, and was heavily involved with the right timing.

“Hm… I think you are right.” Madame Lebois plopped the dough back on the tray. “I wasn’t expecting too much but these will come out good enough to sell.”

She went back to tending her customers. I couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy from those few words of praise. Life became just a bit brighter and a smile quirked around my lips.

The following hours passed in a blur. I worked the back of the bakery in clockwork fashion, mixing up ingredients into dough, working the dough, letting it sit on a tray to fluff up, moving it into the oven, and taking it out after the right amount of time had passed. Madame Lebois would move in and out, taking finished products to replenish stocks while working high-end chit-chat with her customers.

The only distraction was her son. Every now and then little Louis would peek his head out from the stairs leading to the second floor, staring at me with big blue eyes. When I caught him looking, I twisted my face into some silly expression which caught a giggle out of him.

It was a good time while it lasted, at least compared to any other time I had been on this light-forsaken world besides being asleep. I felt it coming to an end as the sun drooped low over the buildings and it came to a close once the doorbell ringed as the last customer of the day left the store.

At that, I took a seat on a stool by the furnace, wiping sweat off my brow with a rag.

“Today was far busier than I expected.” Madame Lebois sighed, stepping into the kitchen with her hands on her hips. “I don’t think it would have gone so well without your help. For that you have my thanks.”

“Pleasures all mine,” I said, looping the rag over my shoulder. I stared at my hands, dusted white from the flour. My shoulders and back ached but it was a worthwhile pain. “It is just a nice change of pace to do an honest day’s work.”

“True to that.” She moved over to one of the counters, one not full of bread-making materials and tools but with cups and plates that seemed more decorative in nature. “It appears there is still some light in the day. Would you mind joining me for a cup of tea?”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind,” I said. After all, it wasn’t like I was in any rush.

“Splendid! Just one moment while I have everything set-up.”

I watched as she moved in steady precision and grace. She used a metal bucket to scoop out fresh water from a barrel and shoved into the furnace with one of the wooden spatulas used for bread trays. While the water worked its way to a broil, she took out pale while cups, saucers, spoons, and a pot out of the drawer and arranged them on a silver plate. Once the water began to steam, she took it out, pouring it into a metal teapot. I got the odd mesmerizing feeling that I was watching a rare display etiquette, like the ceremonies held at the Chantry.

With the preparations complete, she moved over and placed the set on one of the empty kitchen tables. She gestured for me to take a seat opposite her.

I stood up and took a seat. Up close, I could see the decorative milky blue swirls etched onto the cups. A few other plates were set aside with buttered bread and pastries.

“Sorry.” She took a napkin set and laid it over her lap. “I unfortunately do not have much of a collection. Tea is hard to come by this far from Orlais.”

“Not a problem at all.” I copied her actions, laying one of the white napkins across my lap.

She placed two small strainers over the teacups, dabbing a small pile of herbs on top, and pouring water from the teapot over them. Steam billowed up, filling my nose with a fragrance resembling something along the lines of raspberries and oranges rose up.

“So.” Madame Lebois removed the strainers and moved one of the cups towards me. “I must confess, you are one of the more peculiar hires I have had.”

“In what way?” I picked up the cup of tea and took a sip. After working a long hot day, I didn’t expect the tea to be so relieving.

“For one, you do not complain as the others did, and you work well with your hands. You mentioned you helped your Aunt before. I suppose you were not always a mercenary?”

Technically true, though I didn’t know if “soldier from a different world” would have made for polite talk.

“I worked on my Aunt’s shop. Mostly… a bit of gardening and a bit of farming. It was sort of the thing that would create things like the… tea herbs you see there. We sold them to people for the purpose of making poultices, potions, perfumes, those sorts of things.”

“Interesting… I can see how such skilled work would be very lucrative.” She paused taking a sip of tea. “Might I ask what drove you to be a mercenary?”

“Honestly…” That was a hard one to explain, even back on Azeroth. Being here only added further complications.

“Adventure I suppose. I grew up around stories, such as I am sure most boys did. Wanted to make a name for myself, all those things. Now? Now, I’m not so sure. I guess I took this up because I’m tired of it all, and it seemed familiar.”

“But could you not simply do your work here?”

“To be honest, I’m pretty far from home, and most of the plants I work with don’t exactly grow here.”

That last part was an honest truth. I didn’t see any peaceblooms, silverleaves, earthroots, briarthorns, or any number of plants around Denerim. If I did, I probably very well would have done so.

Our conversation drifted to my home. I answered questions, in the most general way possible. I told her of the sleepy bowl of land known as Northshire valley, cupped against the mountains to the North. I told her about the rivers, of clear streams, and the changing colors of the forest. Green in summer to gold in fall to white in winter, and finally bursting into as many colors as a rainbow in Spring. I told her about the grape farms, and the wine festivals held twice yearly.

“Interesting… ,” she said. “And to think I thought you were a native at first glance. It turns out that you are a foreigner like me.”

“Like you.” I took another sip. “Although, I’m not sure if I want to stay much longer. I’m looking to get back home as soon as possible.”

She nodded, looking wistfully out the window. It didn’t seem like she was looking at the building across from us, but to something beyond.

“Well,” I said, trying to fill in the silence. “You on the other hand seemed to be doing quite well for yourself here. On the contrary there isn’t much here for me.”

“That is true… though I have been thinking of leaving for home more and more frequently. On the other hand, it is hard to uproot my life twice.”

“Twice?”

She nodded. “I came here with my husband. He was part of the Orlesian garrison under King Meghren. I am shamed a bit to admit that we arrived here due to myself. My husband didn’t want to leave, but I was young and wanted to see a bit of the world. Experience a bit of adventure, as you just described.”

I nodded along. I didn’t say anything, and could infer from the absence of her husband, the sour relations between the two people, and a supposed war, nothing good came out of it.

“Denerim has been pleasant,” she said. “but I believe it may soon be time to depart.”

“What makes you say that?”

She smiled, but instead of cheer, I saw sorrow on her face. “Too many memories. Or homesickness. You’ll have to forgive me, for I have little to describe Orlais, as you described your own home, but it is home nonetheless.”

“That’s… understandable.”

“There is a large order for the landsmeet ball. Afterwards, I am thinking of -“

There was a sudden sound of metal clashing against wood. The two of us turned our heads in the direction of the noise. In the corner of the room, little Louis was standing next to where I had neatly stacked my weapons and armor. Well, had neatly stacked. Everything was now in a pile on the ground, and Louis was looking at us with my newly acquired warhammer below his feet.

“Louis!” Madame Lebois stood up, and walked to her son. The boy looked down with a frown.

Madame Lebois breathed in as if to begin chiding her child then let out a sigh. Instead she picked him up with her two hands.

“Always getting yourself into trouble…” She pinched one of his cheeks. “I think it is time for you to get ready for bed.”

“Do you need help cleaning up?” I asked.

“No no! Do not worry.” She waved her hand. “You probably have a long way to go. Thank you again for your help.”

The setting sun cast a red hue on everything. The street, all the wooden buildings, and even the water streaming down the river. There was a knocking noise with each step, from the shield and warhammer tied to my back. As far as I knew, I was the only person walking along this street. Everyone else was probably preparing to bed down.

I used one hand to pinch my nose shut from the smell of the rank river. The other held a basket of bread. I had two baskets, but left one a couple turns ago. The street-dwellers could use it more than I did.

All in all, it was a nice end to a productive day.

When I reached the other side of the bridge, I recognized a familiar mop of red hair step across in the distant intersection. Before, I could open my mouth to say hello to Shianni, she had had vanished from sight.

I didn’t think she noticed me. Or maybe she did? She did seem upset the last time we met. She probably had her own concerns, life was hard on a city elf, at least from what I knew.

That probably would have been the end of it, and I was about to turn toward another road when I noticed two figures follow behind her.

At first, I thought they were guards, but they weren’t wearing the green tabards of the city watch. They weren’t carrying the spears or halberds either, and it looked like they were trying to move unnoticed, which didn’t make sense.

I got the feeling something was wrong, and turned toward their direction.

By the time I reached the intersection, they were nowhere in sight. However, there were a set of muddy bootprints leading to the right, and into an alleyway between two buildings. Shianni had probably disappeared into one of those city shortcuts that she was familiar with. But if those men were after her…

I huffed the breadbasket around my arms and followed the bootprints. The way ahead curved and twisted with the contours of the houses. Luckily, I didn’t have to worry about getting lost, because someone there was a shriek up ahead followed by a sudden silence it was muffled.

I trudged through, and popped out to a small empty space at the intersection of several buildings. There were three separate alleys that split, and a little past one was two men holding a figure covered in a bag. Whatever was inside it was struggling to be free.

“You there!” I drew my sword with my free hand, setting the point in their direction. “Stop!”

The men stopped. It was hard seeing what they wore under the shadow of the buildings but their build was the same as the ones earlier. They turned, and there was something familiar about their faces. Like I had seen them before.

I only got a brief glance because I charged after them. In that moment, they tossed the struggling mass on the ground and made off in the other direction. Without that burden, and with all the extra weight from the goods I had, they gained ground and disappeared before I could reach them.

I stopped, right in front of the bag. It would be a fruitless chase.

Instead I sheathed my sword, set the bread basket aside, and kneeled to free Shianni. I tried to lift her upright, but her struggling was making it impossible. I could hear muffled screams through the bag.

“Hold still!” I tried getting a grip on the knot of the rope bindings. “It’s me!”

She responded by struggling harder. I grit down, pulled apart the rope binds, and thrust the cover off.

She flopped out. Bruises covered her neck and arms where the men had grabbed her. Her hair was frizzled and her eyes and face were swollen with tears. She was shaking, and her arms swung blindly. I grabbed both her arms into a vice-grip before she hurt herself.

“It’s me!” I grabbed both her arms into a vice-grip looked her in the eyes. “Look it’s me.”

Realization set into her face. I carefully undid the gag around her mouth. I was going to let go of her arms, intent on giving her some distance to get her bearings straight. However, within a second, she had me wrapped in an embrace.

And then she started to bawl.

It was an unpleasant admission that I had an unwanted amount of experience dealing with these types of issues. Out of the five members of my old patrol group, I was the unfortunate go-to person whenever we dealt with situations with civilian wounded. It made sense. Priests fit the bill for the occasion and as a paladin I was close enough. Theory however, doesn’t always translate into practice, and I still remember my botched attempts at providing emotional support. Much to the amusement of everyone else.

Years later, and it also turns out that experience, doesn’t translate to expertise, because I still didn’t know how to handle emotional grief.

My mind was split three ways. One side giving comfort, the other ruminating on the awkwardness of the whole situation, and the last was paranoid of any threats in the area.

In any case, I went with the first and held her tight.

“It’s okay.” I rubbed her back, hoping it would ease her nerves. “It’s okay.”

As we were tangled up, I was still very aware that we were only asking for trouble by staying here. The men had departed, but I didn’t know if they were gone for good or returning with more. We had to leave.

Crying turned to sniffles, at which point I pulled away. If her face was a mess before, it certainly was now. The sight of it, like all the ones before, tugged at my heartstrings.

“Listen,” I said. “You’ve gone through a lot. Let’s get you home. I don’t know where we need to go though, so you’ll need to lead us. Okay? I’ll be right with you.”

She nodded and I gently helped her up.

I picked up my belongings and walked by her as she led us through the labyrinth. She leaned against me; her arm wrapped around mine. A part of me thought it was self-serving to indulge in the emotion given what she had just gone through, but I couldn’t help but a feel a bit… good.

She was silent the entire time we stepped through the labyrinth. Her head bent down. I was thinking of offering more words of comfort. Some memorized verse from the Libram of Justice came to mind. I ultimately decided to keep my mouth shut.

We could finally hear sounds of movement and people ahead, and came out in the middle of a semi-busy street. Traffic was light, and our arrival drew a few eyes before the people went on their merry way.

“Shianni!”

A young man dressed in a green tunic and pants weaved through the traffic through us. On glance look, at his pointed ears and his angular face, it was an elf.

She let go of my arm and took a small step forward. “Soris…I”

“Gods…Where were you?” He took her hands, looking her up and down. His face one of concern. “What happened? Were you crying? Why…”

His head turned towards me, then back at her. I could immediately tell what he was thinking judging by the glare he gave me on his third look.

“Now look I- ,” I said.

“You wretched shem!” He shoved me with both hands. Bold attempt, but with the difference in our sizes and weight, all he wound up doing was lose his balance and fall on the cobblestone street with a meaty thunk.

“Ugh…” He massaged his bruised back. “Why you-“

“Soris!” Shianni rushed down to his aid, putting herself between him and I. “Don’t! He-He didn’t do this. He helped me.”

“Where did you get those bruises then?” He got up, pointed at the bruises on her arms and neck. “Look at yourself! I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to-”

Shianni’s voice regained a measure of resolve. “He didn’t do this. He helped me actually. I was- I was-.”

“She was attacked by a few men, in the alleyways” I said. “I was just there to stop it.”

Soris shook his head as he got back up. “Alleyways? Shianni what are you thinking! Aunt Adaia is going to lose her head, especially not after what Ka-“

“Stop,” she said, nudging Soris on the shoulder to turn. “Please. Let’s… Let’s get going.”

She looked back to me.

“Thank you.” Her lips quirked up, as if to smile but lacking the effort or strength to do so. “It looks like I’m in your debt once more.”

“She doesn’t owe you any- .” Shianni put a finger in front of Soris’ mouth to shut him up.

“Your welcome,” I said. “Stay safe.”

She nodded.

The two of them walked off. As they disappeared beyond sight and as I began my own trek back to the tavern, I recalled what it was about Shianni’s assaulters that seemed so familiar. They had the same haunted look, maybe to the point of being the same people, as the men who had excavated the entrance to the Deep Road’s a few days ago.

I stepped through the doors, escaping the noise of the street to join the noise and rabble of the tavern.

The moment I did, a young woman dressed in layered but wispy black cloth, sitting in my usual spot turned in my direction. One of her hands, balanced a dagger by its point. Kallian smirked and waved me over as I eased through crowds of people toward her direction.

She was the latest acquaintances I made in this world. We built up a degree of rapport after spending the last three days shuffling from possible site to possible site.

I had to admit, she was looking better than when we met a few days back. For one her hair didn’t have the oily gleam of several days’ worth of grime, and was tied back in the odd wild-looking bun that quite a few of the female elves had. Her clothes had undergone a washing, and so did her body at least judging from the improvement in smell.

She was also a very talkative. So much so that I hadn’t had a quiet dinner since.

“Something wrong?” she asked. “You have a funny look on your face.”

“No, nothing.” I sat down, placing the basket on the table.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing, and you certainly did not bring nothing.” She leaned over to take a whiff out of what was in the basket. “Is that bread?”

“It is.” I moved the basket closer to my side of the table. “For me. Last I checked I wasn’t responsible for feeding you.”

“Aw you don’t have to put it that way.” She crossed her arms and smirked. I didn’t like that smirk. “Let me guess, you got it from that bakery down by the riverside. The one where all the rich folks live, run by the Orlesian?”

“How did you…”

“Oh, I’ve been following you around.” She winked, which didn’t assure me at all. “Not today of course, but a week ago.”

My first thought was why the Lorekeeper hadn’t caught her spying on me. Then when I realized the specifics of that day, it made sense. There were enough threatening attitudes in my direction that first day I was working at Madame Lebois.

“And I’m supposed to okay with that?” I said.

She started to laugh. “Easy, no need to be so strung up. Look… I know that was a bit uncalled for, but this was back when you still had my daggers.” She spun it in the air, catching it by the handle. “Honestly, I didn’t expect you to just hand them over like that.”

“I would have. Maybe you would get different results if you asked politely versus kicking people in their nethers.”

She rolled her eyes. “I already apologized for that didn’t I?”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not going to bring it up.”

“Please. Imagine you are a young lithe female elf such as myself who wakes up half naked strapped to a bed with a man standing over you. What would you do in that position?”

She had a point, but I wasn’t going to admit that. I crossed my arms, looking at her with an eyebrow raised. “Lithe female elf?”

“Aw.” She looked me in the eye and frowned. Cupping her hands over her heart. “Now you’ve gone and hurt my feelings.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help but laugh a bit.

“Seriously!”

“Alright,” I said, pushing the basket towards her. She reminded me of Milly. “And would some bread help mitigate that?”

“There you go again using big words. But yes, it would.” She reached for the basket, but I pulled it away from her hands at the last moment.

“Say please.”

She rolled her eyes. “What are you my mother now?”

“Say it. How old are you anyway in the first place?”

“Fine. Please,” she said in a drawn-out voice that dripped with sarcasm. “And I’m just reaching my 16th year.”

I tried to avoid letting my jaw drop at that revelation. 16? I knew elves aged a bit different here, but even in human terms that hardly registered as an adult.

I pushed the basket over to Kallian who began to work her ravenous appetite on the bread. I leaned back and shut my eyes, meditating on the day’s events. Wade’s armory, Madame Lebois’ bakery, the incident with Shianni.

I enjoyed talking with Wade. I enjoyed working at the bakery. Without making it too odd, I enjoyed being there for Shianni, and had an urge to investigate those men on my own. However, that was problem. I was getting too attached to this place. Too much for my own good.

The Lorekeeper didn’t say anything but I could almost sense his agreement.