Snippet #1677717

It was a Cold day at Vigil's keep, the Fortress having withstood the Mother's brutal army. Lucas; The Warden commander who had slayed not only The archdemon but the mother as well. An Elf with no equal as others had mentioned to him. Lucas stood in the throne room his arms crossed over his chest. He wore his custom made armor, crafted by the finest leather-workers and smiths that he could find. The Dalish leather was worked by a nimble and crafty Dalish elf, the leather dyed Teal in coloration. The chain-mail that covered his left arm down to his leather gauntlet hand worked by the finest smith at the keep; Wade, as well as the metal plates at his knees and covering his boots. The swords on his back were both finally crafted and made from the finest materials. First Vigilance forged from the bone of an elder dragon and shaped to perfection, the second was an ornate Dalish longsword forged by the smith of his clan; Master Ilen.

He had been listening to the words of Captain Carevel, about the situation in Amaranthine. Though the attack by the mother had been sometime ago; repairs were still being made to the city, and bandits as well as pirates were popping up all over the city. This had began to occupy his time, not to mention refugees fleeing the civil war in Kirkwall. He raised a hand to silence the captain rubbing his gauntlet hand along his right arm. "Fortify the town, and give out rations to the refugees...and send a small group of wardens to patrol the town for the night." He said watching as the captain went off to do his wishes. Lucas was restless; no more great battles to be fought, no more archdemons to battle and slay. He was at a loss for things to do. He was Dalish, he wished to travel, but his new status and existence gave him not the chance. He sat down hard on the steps in the throne room brushing a hand through his black hair. "What I wouldn't give for another blight.." He mumbled to himself. The situation with the mages had not grown so bad where he was, and with that He had no cause for fear, Alistair was in charge, he could handle it. When he was needed, he would go; and gladly fight; but for now his place was here, ruling Amaranthine. playing with the shoulder pauldron on his right shoulder trying to get it to fit right he sighed. He stood once more turning his attention towards the entrance to the throne room. He should go train, but feeling rather lethargic currently he moved to the throne removing his sword and laying them against the chair and sitting down, resting his left elbow against the arm of the chair and his chin in his hand; waiting for something exciting to happen.

He had heard news from Alistair, upon his return from his visit to Kirkwall, The lady champion; Hawke, it was interesting to hear of a mage rising so far in the hierarchy; but then again it was the same thing said about him; because of being an elf. He closed his eyes his mind slowly going over the details he had heard from his old companion; and now the shift in the demeanor in the mages here, this was going to cause a lot of strain; on an already damaged economy, he was just glad that he had convinced Alistair to wed Loghain's daughter; he trusted Alistair, but not with an entire country, at least not by himself anyhow. Ferelden was in for a rough new start; and it hasn't even had the chance to properly stand on it's own two legs. He rubbed at his temples with both hands and slouched in the throne. "This, is going to drive me to an early grave..." he mumbled to himself out loud; the empty halls making it sound much louder then it was.