The City We Became

Posted on 04 Sep 2020 @ 6:18pm by Mage Kalian Winter

1,391 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Prologue
Location: Jader

Kalian perched on the chantry's high peaked roof and surveyed the city of Jader, the two moons in the night sky his only companions.

A light breeze ruffled Kalian's feathers and brought the fishy-salt scent of the harbor across the city. A wide assortment of vessels was anchored there, including merchant ships from all over Thedas that filled the warehouses of the Jader docks with goods destined for here or somewhere else. Narrow-hulled fast schooners moored here usually transported wealthy and noble passengers. At the other end of the quay, Jader's small fleet of fishing boats flocked together like ducks.

The wharf district glowed with lanterns, and bursts of laughter, music, and chatter punctuated the relative night quiet each time a tavern door opened. To the casual observer, it was the only part of the city truly awake at this late hour. But Kalian knew the city was a living thing, alive and aware, welcoming and dangerous, at all times.

Two bored city guards, a man and a woman, patrolled the now-quiet Market district bordering the docks. One of them kicked something that rolled, and the owl mind in the back of Kalian's consciousness registered a tasty mouse scurrying away into an alley behind the bakery, where three figures huddled - likely homeless refugees. Soon after dawn the market would be bustling with activity and they'd move on with a loaf of bread if the baker was feeling generous, but for now the market shops were locked up, the less-permanent stands empty, and Kalian hoped whoever they were they'd find rest for the night.

A group of elves crossed a bridge spanning the river that wound its way through Jader, crossing from the market district and into the walled confines of the alienage. Probably returning home after working their night shifts. The Vhenadahl rose up in the center of the alienage, a tall oak tree and symbol of the elves' community. Also home to a number of sleeping songbirds Kalian knew would not welcome an owl into their midst.

The Tanner was on that side of the river, as well as the tattered remains of a shanty town still occupied by straggler refugees from the blight.

On this side of the river were the craft guild houses, with the Grey Warden facility among them. Beyond the businesses, a patchwork of modest homes and alleyways spread out below the chantry.

The chantry occupied a place between the market and commoner districts, and the homes of the nobility. The templar barracks and practice grounds occupied the low-town side of the chantry courtyard. The chantry sisters' dormitory was on the high-town side.

A trio of templars, two women and a man - identifiable by their stride and demeanor if not by their lack of plate armor - emerged from their barracks and struck out toward the docks. Off duty. Kalian resisted the temptation to fly over them and drop a mess on their clean clothes.

Further up the hill on terraced estates, at sufficient distance to escape the stink of the city, mansions overlooked the whole expanse of Jader. From there, Orlesian nobility in their finery and stylish masks could gaze out at the beautiful views of the city and harbor, and see only clever toy boats on a shining blue sea.

The Raven's Roost, the tavern that had belonged to Kalian's family since his father was a boy, was nestled between the chantry and the guild district along the main road that ran from the docks through the city to eventually join the Imperial Highway.

The three templars had just crossed the market when they were accosted by a pair of humans, staggering as though drunk.

Kalian spread his broad wings and glided silently to the roof of the bakery to watch from close enough to hear conversation.

The inebriated pair claimed to be brothers, innocent lost farm boys, who couldn't believe their luck at running into such attractive servants of the Maker. From the templars’ suggestive invitations for the pair to return with them to the barracks, it seemed the obvious ruse was a success.

On the other side of the bakery, the templars' noise stirred awake the refugees hidden in the alley and Kalian rotated his facial disk toward them. Three humans, grubby, young, but old enough to be arrested and imprisoned - if a city guard thought there was reason. When it came to elves or refugees, they always did.

In the market, the two brothers abruptly straightened and ran in opposite directions, one toward the chantry, the other toward the bakery. The templars shouted an alarm - they'd been robbed. The two city guards hurried to join them.

The thief was running straight for the alley behind the bakery.

Kalian spread his wings and dropped to the alley floor, then shifted to human. Though expected, the sudden change was like a bag over his head, as his human eyes adjusted to the dim light. Further down the alley, he heard a muffled gasp. "Don't make a sound," he hissed to the shadows.

He took his staff from the strap on his back, briefly touched the fade, and cast a light frost over the damp cobble stones around the alley entrance. Then he stuck out his staff, bracing it at ankle height.

The thief tripped and fell in a scatter of coins. He was on his feet immediately, the half-emptied coin pouch clutched in his hands. But he slipped on the icy cobblestones and went down again as Kalian replaced his staff on his back.

A guard and a templar burst into the alley entrance just as the thief ran to the end and scrambled over the wall, leaving the pouch where he'd dropped it on the warming cobblestones.

Kalian held up his hands in surrender. "Maker's breath! That was impressive. You scared him into dropping the coin purse."

"Don't blaspheme," muttered the templar, a not-unattractive woman with reddish hair. "What are you doing here?"

Kalian flashed them his most convincing innocent-bystander smile and said, "I'm a local business owner. I stepped into the alley to, uh, if you'll excuse the vulgarity, relieve myself. But before I did, well…" He gestured in the direction of the thief's escape.

The templar bent to pick up the coins, while the city guard stared at Kalian.

"Please, allow me to help you," said Kalian. He crouched, hiding his face as he helped gather the shiny coins, and wondered as he did why templars were so well paid.

When they finished, she counted them. "It's all here," she announced. Good thing he didn't keep any. "For your trouble," she said, and pressed three silvers into his palm with a salacious wink.

Apparently she had not learned anything from her run-in with the thief. Weirdest night ever. It occurred to him that a friend among the templars might come in handy, but before he could brandish his charm, the city guard laughed unpleasantly. "Local business owner, my ass. I know who you are. Ben Roatta's useless brother-in-law. Surprised you're not drunk, but not surprised to find you pissing in an alley."

The pretty templar wrinkled her nose and turned away. A few moments later greetings and traded explanations carried across the market as the templar and guard met their companions.

Kalian waited until he was sure they were gone, then slowly walked toward the shadows at the back of the alley. He held his arms out to show he held no weapons, then came to a stop. Softly, he said, "I have no intention of harming you. Are you all right?"

Three young voices argued in hushed Ferelden accents. One wanted to run away, one wanted to trust him, and the last assured the other two she could kill him if necessary. Kalian opened his coin purse and poured the contents - five more silvers, a gold, and six coppers - into his hand with the templar's three silvers. He lay the coins on the ground by his feet. The whispering stopped.

"I get it. You don’t know me." He backed away. “Use those coins to find yourselves a safe place to sleep, clean up, and then see about earning enough to stay off the street. No strings attached." Then Kalian shape-shifted into a Boreal owl and launched himself into the air.

 

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