The breeze off the ocean that morning was cool, crisp, and carried a distinctive salty bite that separated it from the lakes in Lydes. There was no region quite like the Wounded Coast in Orlais, as the line of the coast at home tended to be either in rocky cliffs or else much more gradual sandy declines. This retained some kind of mix of the two, and even at its busiest, the activity in the harbor proper here had nothing on Val Royeaux, as one might well expect, all things considered. But the terrain was difficult and sometimes treacherous, nowhere exactly the same, and the bandits were plenty. It seemed like every time they cleared out one lot of them, more arose to take their place, and by this point, Lucien was quite accustomed to getting contracts to deal with them. Not the most lucrative, but worthwhile.
So today heâd taken a group of his Lions with him, because they needed to get their feet wet in actual battle before he felt comfortable allowing them to take missions on their own. They were making excellent progress, and he was prepared for the truth that he would lose some of them, eventually, to overprepared enemies or superior numbers or just plain bad luck, but he would not be losing any of them to carelessness, on his part or theirs, nor a lack of training. They would be as prepared as they possibly could be, though he was going to spare them some of the more inhumane training methods employed by the Chevaliers. It was enough to describe to them what to look for in determining how harmful a wound was⊠they did not need to know what the difference between a minor wound and a potentially-fatal one felt like. Not because of him anyway. Besides, the only healer heâd trust with that kind of situation was Nostariel, and he wasnât about to ask her to watch him slam an axe into someoneâs spine and then heal it, even if it did actually hurt less than some lesser wounds.
He wasnât about to do that, either.
At the moment, Tessa and Cor were acting as his forward scouts, mostly so that the former could teach the latter how to do it. He wanted them all to have the basics, but he was admittedly also having the youth work with a lot of the more experienced members of the group so as to get an objective assessment of where his talents lay. Not that he would focus only on the things that Cor was or was not good atâquite the contrary. But it wasnât fair to expect someone to be equally good at everything, and Lucien wanted to know where to accelerate his training and where to be very patient. It was something heâd done for all of his people, at one point or another, but the experts would be able to tell him more than he could figure out himself about their own areas. Tessa was a very good scout and hunter, being the daughter of a minor noble family that specialized in raising dogs and horses for the same purpose.
A trilling whistle, mimicking the natural call of one of the oceanâs many gull species, reached his ears, and he held up his hand to draw the rest of the company to a stop, which they did immediately, even their breathing inaudible over the wind. The call was followed by another, indicating, strangely enough, the all-clear.
Shortly thereafter, Cor appeared, tugging at the hood drawn up over his head. âTheyâre all dead, Commander," he said, sounding perplexed. Lucien could not blame him. To his knowledge, there were no contracts out on the group aside from the one Meredith had given the Lions, and he didnât imagine she would extend it to someone else as well when she knew quite well it would be done by them. âTess is still down there, checking them over. What do we do?â
Lucien thought it over, then nodded slightly. âApproach carefully. Whatever killed them might still be here. Archers, I want you on high ground, in a perimeter. Let us know if anything approaches.â Perhaps the bandits had simply run into an armed caravan guard, but he wasnât going to take any chances on that. Leading the other five, those armed for melee, over a rise, Lucien paused for a moment to examine the scene in front of him.
The bandits were only a small group. He understood that they were effective largely because they were quite good with ambush tactics, and the Templar giving him the contract had passed along that they had believed there was at least one apostate in the group as well, which would have made them formidable for mundane caravan guards, despite their numbers. And yet, here they were, as dead as Cor had said they were. Perhaps other bandits? There was rarely any honor among thieves, at least not out here. âSearch the bodies,â he said quietly, grimacing a little when Donnelly lost the contents of his stomach in a nearby bush. He straightened, wiping his mouth, and Lucien clapped him on the shoulder. The lad had likely never seen an actual dead person before.
As far as corpses werenât, these ones were not yet in terrible condition. There was a bit of a smell, suggesting that theyâd been dead a day or so, but it wasnât yet overpowering. Flies were collecting on some of the corpses, which bore irregular injuries. Some looked like they had been burned, others stabbed, though not well. Amateurâs work, at best. Perhaps a desperate merchant trying to defend his caravan? But if so, there should be other bodies around here, ones that didnât look likeâ
âCommander!â The voice belonged to Tessa, and Lucien turned to where she was, crouching beside one of the fallen. Moving closer, Lucien observed that this one was dressed differentlyânot richly, but well, though the garments bore the wear of long travel and a great deal of fading and dirt. âSheâs still breathing.â
That quickened his steps, and Lucien dropped into a crouch next to the woman as well, removing his gauntlet to press two callused fingers to the junction of her neck and throat, seeking her pulse. It was there, fluttering weakly and erratically, but it was definitely there. âIdris,â Lucien said, summoning the one member of this team with more experience in combat medicine than he. âWhat can you do for her?â
Idris, an older man of clear Rivaini descent and a rather large, squat frame, checked the woman over carefully, frowning as he prodded at what appeared to be various injuries. âSome of these are too old,â he murmured, almost to himself. Scratching at his bald pate with one hand, he shook his head. âSheâs in pretty rough shape, Commander. I canât treat her with what Iâve got.â The look on his face said he doubted he could help her even if he had his full kit with him and a clean table on which to do it.
âCan she be moved?â
Idris looked uncertain for a moment, clucking his tongue thoughtfully. âMaybe. Might just kill her faster.â He paused. âBut sheâs dying anyway, if we leave her here. Doesnât have too much time, either, judging from how long sheâs been out here already.â That was probably true. If sheâd sustained these injuries in a confrontation with the bandits, sheâd likely been like thisâprone on the ground, face to one sideâfor the better part of the last day.
âAll right. Stabilize her as well as you can with what you have. Then weâll get her to Nostariel.â He didnât know who she was, or how sheâd come to be there, but her appearance did not suggest bandit, not in the slightest. She looked too well-groomed for one thing. Underneath the road dirt, her fingernails were still short and had no cracks or yellowing. Her skin bore little evidence of sun, suggesting a primarily indoors lifestyle. There were calluses on her hands, but the kind one acquired from writing and ordinary household labor, rather than work with weapons.
He stood and backed off, giving Idris the space he needed to prepare the woman for travel, standing instead beside Tessa and Cor, the latter of whom looked uneasy. The scout, however, spoke immediately. âSheâs young. Looks noble.â
âWhat makes you think that?â Cor asked, cocking his head quizzically and crossing his arms over his chest.
âHer hair,â Tessa replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. She fingered a strand of her own chestnut-brown locks, cut shorter even than Lucienâs, so as not to get in the way. Cor still looked confused, so Lucien elaborated.
âItâs very long, something most with difficult jobs wouldnât want. Itâs also clean, even despite the fact that sheâs been travelling. Someoneâs taught her to keep up appearances, so itâs probably habit by now. Nobility isnât the only guess, but itâs a fair one.â Cor nodded, seemingly understanding now, and sought to add his own contribution.
âSome of the bodies⊠theyâve been burned. But I didnât see anything that looked like a fire near here, soâŠâ He hesitated, as if he werenât sure whether or not he should proceed. Fair enough, considering the sensitivity of what he was about to suggest.
âAn astute observation,â Lucien said mildly, âbut perhaps we should let her speak for herself before we reach any especially important conclusions.â Cor nodded, and Lucien smiled, only to be called back over by Idris, who appeared to have staunched what sluggish bleeding remained.
âNo promises, Commander, but itâs the best I could do.â He looked down at the young woman with a grimace, then hauled himself to his feet again. Seeing as how they lacked any horses on this excursion, Lucien figured the best option was just to carry her himself, and spent a few minutes trying to figure out the best way to do so without aggravating any of her injuries. In the end, the rescue carry seemed appropriate, and so he lifted her carefully over his shoulder, with some help from Cor and Tessa, for as little jostling as possible.
âCor, run ahead to Nostarielâs and tell her weâre coming. If sheâs not there, get Aurora and Rilien first, then go looking.â Healing was not Auroraâs specialty, and his mercs likely assumed she was someone like Idris, but she would be the next best thing, if her talents were combined with Rilienâs knack for potions and surgery.
âYes, sir.â The boy was off on light feet thereafter, heading straight for the city. Lucien and the rest followed more ponderously, but as quickly as they were able, considering their new burden. A few remained behind to take care of the bandits, which would mostly involve collecting anything of value to donate to the Chantry or the clinic, and then burning the bodies in a large pyre on the sand.
He was hoping this one need not be given such grim rites as well, but only time, and the talents of his healer friend, would tell for sure.
So today heâd taken a group of his Lions with him, because they needed to get their feet wet in actual battle before he felt comfortable allowing them to take missions on their own. They were making excellent progress, and he was prepared for the truth that he would lose some of them, eventually, to overprepared enemies or superior numbers or just plain bad luck, but he would not be losing any of them to carelessness, on his part or theirs, nor a lack of training. They would be as prepared as they possibly could be, though he was going to spare them some of the more inhumane training methods employed by the Chevaliers. It was enough to describe to them what to look for in determining how harmful a wound was⊠they did not need to know what the difference between a minor wound and a potentially-fatal one felt like. Not because of him anyway. Besides, the only healer heâd trust with that kind of situation was Nostariel, and he wasnât about to ask her to watch him slam an axe into someoneâs spine and then heal it, even if it did actually hurt less than some lesser wounds.
He wasnât about to do that, either.
At the moment, Tessa and Cor were acting as his forward scouts, mostly so that the former could teach the latter how to do it. He wanted them all to have the basics, but he was admittedly also having the youth work with a lot of the more experienced members of the group so as to get an objective assessment of where his talents lay. Not that he would focus only on the things that Cor was or was not good atâquite the contrary. But it wasnât fair to expect someone to be equally good at everything, and Lucien wanted to know where to accelerate his training and where to be very patient. It was something heâd done for all of his people, at one point or another, but the experts would be able to tell him more than he could figure out himself about their own areas. Tessa was a very good scout and hunter, being the daughter of a minor noble family that specialized in raising dogs and horses for the same purpose.
A trilling whistle, mimicking the natural call of one of the oceanâs many gull species, reached his ears, and he held up his hand to draw the rest of the company to a stop, which they did immediately, even their breathing inaudible over the wind. The call was followed by another, indicating, strangely enough, the all-clear.
Shortly thereafter, Cor appeared, tugging at the hood drawn up over his head. âTheyâre all dead, Commander," he said, sounding perplexed. Lucien could not blame him. To his knowledge, there were no contracts out on the group aside from the one Meredith had given the Lions, and he didnât imagine she would extend it to someone else as well when she knew quite well it would be done by them. âTess is still down there, checking them over. What do we do?â
Lucien thought it over, then nodded slightly. âApproach carefully. Whatever killed them might still be here. Archers, I want you on high ground, in a perimeter. Let us know if anything approaches.â Perhaps the bandits had simply run into an armed caravan guard, but he wasnât going to take any chances on that. Leading the other five, those armed for melee, over a rise, Lucien paused for a moment to examine the scene in front of him.
The bandits were only a small group. He understood that they were effective largely because they were quite good with ambush tactics, and the Templar giving him the contract had passed along that they had believed there was at least one apostate in the group as well, which would have made them formidable for mundane caravan guards, despite their numbers. And yet, here they were, as dead as Cor had said they were. Perhaps other bandits? There was rarely any honor among thieves, at least not out here. âSearch the bodies,â he said quietly, grimacing a little when Donnelly lost the contents of his stomach in a nearby bush. He straightened, wiping his mouth, and Lucien clapped him on the shoulder. The lad had likely never seen an actual dead person before.
As far as corpses werenât, these ones were not yet in terrible condition. There was a bit of a smell, suggesting that theyâd been dead a day or so, but it wasnât yet overpowering. Flies were collecting on some of the corpses, which bore irregular injuries. Some looked like they had been burned, others stabbed, though not well. Amateurâs work, at best. Perhaps a desperate merchant trying to defend his caravan? But if so, there should be other bodies around here, ones that didnât look likeâ
âCommander!â The voice belonged to Tessa, and Lucien turned to where she was, crouching beside one of the fallen. Moving closer, Lucien observed that this one was dressed differentlyânot richly, but well, though the garments bore the wear of long travel and a great deal of fading and dirt. âSheâs still breathing.â
That quickened his steps, and Lucien dropped into a crouch next to the woman as well, removing his gauntlet to press two callused fingers to the junction of her neck and throat, seeking her pulse. It was there, fluttering weakly and erratically, but it was definitely there. âIdris,â Lucien said, summoning the one member of this team with more experience in combat medicine than he. âWhat can you do for her?â
Idris, an older man of clear Rivaini descent and a rather large, squat frame, checked the woman over carefully, frowning as he prodded at what appeared to be various injuries. âSome of these are too old,â he murmured, almost to himself. Scratching at his bald pate with one hand, he shook his head. âSheâs in pretty rough shape, Commander. I canât treat her with what Iâve got.â The look on his face said he doubted he could help her even if he had his full kit with him and a clean table on which to do it.
âCan she be moved?â
Idris looked uncertain for a moment, clucking his tongue thoughtfully. âMaybe. Might just kill her faster.â He paused. âBut sheâs dying anyway, if we leave her here. Doesnât have too much time, either, judging from how long sheâs been out here already.â That was probably true. If sheâd sustained these injuries in a confrontation with the bandits, sheâd likely been like thisâprone on the ground, face to one sideâfor the better part of the last day.
âAll right. Stabilize her as well as you can with what you have. Then weâll get her to Nostariel.â He didnât know who she was, or how sheâd come to be there, but her appearance did not suggest bandit, not in the slightest. She looked too well-groomed for one thing. Underneath the road dirt, her fingernails were still short and had no cracks or yellowing. Her skin bore little evidence of sun, suggesting a primarily indoors lifestyle. There were calluses on her hands, but the kind one acquired from writing and ordinary household labor, rather than work with weapons.
He stood and backed off, giving Idris the space he needed to prepare the woman for travel, standing instead beside Tessa and Cor, the latter of whom looked uneasy. The scout, however, spoke immediately. âSheâs young. Looks noble.â
âWhat makes you think that?â Cor asked, cocking his head quizzically and crossing his arms over his chest.
âHer hair,â Tessa replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. She fingered a strand of her own chestnut-brown locks, cut shorter even than Lucienâs, so as not to get in the way. Cor still looked confused, so Lucien elaborated.
âItâs very long, something most with difficult jobs wouldnât want. Itâs also clean, even despite the fact that sheâs been travelling. Someoneâs taught her to keep up appearances, so itâs probably habit by now. Nobility isnât the only guess, but itâs a fair one.â Cor nodded, seemingly understanding now, and sought to add his own contribution.
âSome of the bodies⊠theyâve been burned. But I didnât see anything that looked like a fire near here, soâŠâ He hesitated, as if he werenât sure whether or not he should proceed. Fair enough, considering the sensitivity of what he was about to suggest.
âAn astute observation,â Lucien said mildly, âbut perhaps we should let her speak for herself before we reach any especially important conclusions.â Cor nodded, and Lucien smiled, only to be called back over by Idris, who appeared to have staunched what sluggish bleeding remained.
âNo promises, Commander, but itâs the best I could do.â He looked down at the young woman with a grimace, then hauled himself to his feet again. Seeing as how they lacked any horses on this excursion, Lucien figured the best option was just to carry her himself, and spent a few minutes trying to figure out the best way to do so without aggravating any of her injuries. In the end, the rescue carry seemed appropriate, and so he lifted her carefully over his shoulder, with some help from Cor and Tessa, for as little jostling as possible.
âCor, run ahead to Nostarielâs and tell her weâre coming. If sheâs not there, get Aurora and Rilien first, then go looking.â Healing was not Auroraâs specialty, and his mercs likely assumed she was someone like Idris, but she would be the next best thing, if her talents were combined with Rilienâs knack for potions and surgery.
âYes, sir.â The boy was off on light feet thereafter, heading straight for the city. Lucien and the rest followed more ponderously, but as quickly as they were able, considering their new burden. A few remained behind to take care of the bandits, which would mostly involve collecting anything of value to donate to the Chantry or the clinic, and then burning the bodies in a large pyre on the sand.
He was hoping this one need not be given such grim rites as well, but only time, and the talents of his healer friend, would tell for sure.