"Look, by now you should all know what we are about here; we are not the types for some grand, enchanting speech, and I'm most definitely not."
A murmur of laughter spread through the guard barracks, the gathered guardsmen each in their platemail standing at ease in front of the newly appointed guard-captain. The man, one certain Ashton Riviera, stood informally with one arm in a sling and other used to gesture as he spoke. Behind him and off to the side stood his trusted lieutenant, Vesper, trying in vain not to roll her eyes. In the week since his return to Kirkwall, he'd been more busy than ever preparing for the promotion of guard-captain. There was a lot more paperwork involved than simply rising from sergeant to lieutenant, unfortunately, and truth be told, he still had a few more to sign.
Still, it was all worth it, he thought as he stood in front of the men, his men, outfitted in the polished mail of the guard-captain. "We aren't here for the honor or glory of it, because there's little to be found in the guard. We don't sleep on piles of gold at the end of the day, and job safety is... Sub-par to put politely," he continued to another round of chuckling. "There are other jobs if we wanted all of that. A baker doesn't have 'getting stabbed' as part of the job description. But..." Ashton said, pausing for effect while rubbing his chin. A huff from behind him made him continue.
"We're here because we wanted to make a difference, I definitely am. I joined some three years ago because I wanted the guard to become better than it was-- I wanted to become better. I'd like to think that's happening, for all of us. Well, for most of us," Ashton said, shooting a glance back at Vesper to a round of tentative chuckles. The glare she gave silenced the rest. Despite the look, Ashton himself gave a small laugh before continuing. "The city's safer than it has been in the past, thanks to you all. Crime is down, we've busted not just a few gangs, and bandits think twice before they attack now. If you'll all forgive me for getting a little misty eyed," Ashton joked, playfully wiping at his eyes. "I'm proud of you all."
Then Ashton's posture straightened, his one good hand slipped behind him in military ease, chin up, and he looked into the crowd of guards in front of him. "And I'm proud to be your guard-captain. Together, I'm absolutely sure that we'll be able to keep this city safe from anything, bandits, gangs, Qunari, and even, ugh, Templars. Meredith's not taking our city without a fight, right!?" Ashton said to the applause and shouts from the guard, and even his sour lieutenant managed a smile on her face.
"Alright, well, get to it! We're not going to do any of that with you all standing here clapping. If you do not have a copy of the patrol schedule, please see Lieutenant Vesper, she'll get you sorted out," With that Ashton gave the men a salute and turned, the crowd dispersing to do their jobs. Ashton instead went toward the entrance of the barracks, toward a certain Orlesian Warden. "Well, how'd I do Ser Warden?" He asked Stroud, a lopsided grin on his face.
“Rather more jokes than the Wardens usually get, but then I would hope as much.” Stroud, leaning against the doorway to the barracks, uncrossed his arms from in front of his chest and approached Ashton, nodding to Lieutenant Vesper as he passed her. “I was at the Keep regarding another matter when I remembered Nostariel mentioning your recent promotion. I see that it was very recent.” There was a trace of amusement in the Warden-Commander’s voice, and he appeared to take in the surroundings for a moment, though what he thought of them particularly, it was impossible to tell from only his expression.
He looked rather out-of-place, in one sense, his plate armor the blue and dull silver of the Grey Wardens rather than the burnt orange and shine of that belonging to Kirkwall’s guard, but there was perhaps an extent to which any military-like establishment was effectively the same, and his posture was not so far removed from that of any of the more conscientious guardsmen, really. “So perhaps my congratulations will be timely enough.”
"For what? A slightly better job title and significantly more work?" Ashton said with a laugh. "No, I appreciate it, and I really am glad I finally made it. It took somewhere around three years to get here, maybe now I can start to do some real good," he said scratching the back of his head. Here's to hoping, he guessed. The work wouldn't get any easier from then on out, but then again he'd be disappointed if it did. Then he chuckled again, "I still got some paperwork to file. I kind of had to rush some things because of our little... Adventure," he said, twitching the arm in the sling.
"Come on, let's continue this in my office. Some of the men might start to get nervous thinking you're here to conscript them," he said, gesturing toward the door with his head. The way that he said his office, Ashton was obviously getting a kick out of being the captain, though to be honest, it hadn't really struck him yet. Maybe it never would, in the end he was just another guard with just considerable more work.
Ashton led them into the office, and the first thing that greeted them was the mounted head of a High Dragon above his desk. He wasn't kidding when he said that he was going to mount its head, apparently. Ashton then went to the desk, reached into the bottom drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, "Want some? I don't drink, but the last captain left it for me. Would hate for it to go to waste."
“Well, then I suppose the drinking is all on me.” Stroud took a seat on the other side of the desk, glancing up at the dragon’s head and blinking laconically. “Interesting choice of decoration; are you trying to scare the shit out of the new recruits?” One of Stroud’s eyebrows inched up his weathered forehead, and he accepted a class of the whiskey from Ashton. “My thanks.”
Raising it to his nose, he took a sniff. Early contemporary age, Rivaini, probably from the south of the country. The previous captain had excellent taste in alcohol, but that might have been about it.
"It helps," Ashton said, grinning at the dragon. There aren't many people who would like to be reprimanded under the snarling visage of a dragon if he'd had a guess. "Certainly makes a statement. Says the captain isn't one to be crossed, you know, despite the silliness... Even if he did have help, between you and me," Ashton said with another laugh.
Taking a seat in his chair, his eyes fell on the half-filled form on the desk, before slowly sliding it out of view. Later, he decided. If he was asked why it was late, he'd just say he was improving relationships with the Wardens which technically wasn't a lie. "So how long have you been with the Wardens anyway? You certainly aren't some raw recruit or journeyman. Did your share of hauling my carcass around, if I remember."
Stroud wore a thoughtful expression for a moment, tipping his head up to the ceiling as though trying to remember something. “It has been almost… eighteen years now. Since my Joining. It is something that we at once try not to think about and find occasionally, startlingly, on our minds.” Returning his posture to the way it had been before, he swirled the liquid in his glass around a few times before knocking back a swallow. “I had not thought about it in a long time, before last week.”
"Yeah... Last week was tough," Ashton agreed, leaning back in his chair and his hand coming to rest on his chest. Then he shuddered and ran the hand though his hair. It wasn't amongst his most favorite memories, to be sure, even if most of it was a blur. But he remembered enough and that much was enough to make him uncomfortable. "Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood that depressing. I've just been with Nos so long that it's hard to, uh, remember these things," Ashton said, attempting to delicately sidestep the matter, more for his sake than Stroud's.
“It is an easy enough thing to forget, when one is not constantly battling Darkspawn. I gave Nostariel this post because I believed forgetting for a while would do her good. But nothing lasts forever, least of all a Warden’s peace and quiet.” He sighed into his glass, his breath fogging it slightly. “But you did no harm in the asking. Our reminder came from Corypheus, not you. It’s something we’ll have to come to terms with, just as we came to terms with our Joinings, and with the deaths of our comrades.” It was perhaps inevitable that talking with a Warden about time would eventually become a bit somber, but Stroud didn’t seem overly distraught. Rather, there was a kind of quiet reserve to him, almost but not quite a resignation.
“There has been talk of restructuring our postings, again. Some of the commanders at Weisshaupt think it a bad idea to let our officers get complacent in one place for long. I have made the argument that having Wardens posted places they are familiar with is the better strategic move, but it is difficult to predict headquarters.” His eyes had sharpened, and he was making steady eye contact with Ashton now. “Death is not the only way to cut time short.”
"Yeah, I know," Ashton answered, learning forward on the desk resting on his hand. Instead of trying to explain himself, he remained quiet for a moment before continuing. "She's done a lot of good here, you know?" He said, leaning back. "She's one of the pillars of the community, things in this city would be a lot worse off without her." He then chuckled wistfully shaking his head, "Half of us are still alive because of it. Ithilian, Sophia, and myself I know. You've done more for this city than you know by giving her this post."
Stroud’s mouth pulled up into a wry smile. “Perhaps, but I think I’m beginning to understand.” He finished off the last of the drink, setting the glass down gently on the edge of Ashton’s desk. “I was the one who took her from the Circle, you know? And… I was the one who brought her here, after her squad was killed.” He rubbed at his stubble thoughtfully. “If it were up to me, I’d keep her here. Kirkwall has done her good, and she has done it some good in return.” The implication still hung in the air, though—he wasn’t solely responsible for that decision.
“I also wanted to say… that I regret what happened, in the Deep Roads. Our minds were not ours, and though I cannot apologize for something that was not of my own will, I do regret that it harmed the rest of you.” He paused. “The Wardens owe all of you their thanks, for what you helped prevent. Had it been just the two of us, or any number of our order at all… we would not have succeeded.”
Ashton waved the thanks off and leaned back in the chair, "Don't mention it," he said with a laugh. A moment later however, the smile slipped right off his face and was replaced with tight-lipped frown, "Seriously. Don't mention it. I'd like to forget most of it." While he wanted to say that he's had worse times in his life, that would be a lie. Warden secrets, demon infested tunnels, and a darkspawn magister at the end of it all wasn't exactly one of the memories he wanted to keep, but it was stuck with him nonetheless. He had scars to remind him if he did forget.
"How... Is she, anyway?" he asked tentatively. Since they returned to Kirkwall, Ashton hadn't seen Nostariel.
Stroud gave him a flat look. “That, I think, is something you should discern for yourself.” His tone hinted at his certainty regarding his statement, but he did relent a little. “She is confronting her own mortality, and several facts about her history that she did not know. It is going about as well as you would expect, considering.” He grimaced slightly, but then shook his head and stood.
“But I should be going. I depart Kirkwall tomorrow. Congratulations again, Guard-Captain. May your tenure be quiet and uneventful.” He sounded skeptical of such a possibility, however.
"I'd be doing my job wrong if that was the case," Ashton answered as she stood with Stroud. "If you ever find yourself out this way again, you'll always be welcome here," he added, extending his hand.
"I've got official business to get to anyway. A favor for a friend and a man in a dungeon."
Stroud clasped his hand, nodded, and took his leave.
A murmur of laughter spread through the guard barracks, the gathered guardsmen each in their platemail standing at ease in front of the newly appointed guard-captain. The man, one certain Ashton Riviera, stood informally with one arm in a sling and other used to gesture as he spoke. Behind him and off to the side stood his trusted lieutenant, Vesper, trying in vain not to roll her eyes. In the week since his return to Kirkwall, he'd been more busy than ever preparing for the promotion of guard-captain. There was a lot more paperwork involved than simply rising from sergeant to lieutenant, unfortunately, and truth be told, he still had a few more to sign.
Still, it was all worth it, he thought as he stood in front of the men, his men, outfitted in the polished mail of the guard-captain. "We aren't here for the honor or glory of it, because there's little to be found in the guard. We don't sleep on piles of gold at the end of the day, and job safety is... Sub-par to put politely," he continued to another round of chuckling. "There are other jobs if we wanted all of that. A baker doesn't have 'getting stabbed' as part of the job description. But..." Ashton said, pausing for effect while rubbing his chin. A huff from behind him made him continue.
"We're here because we wanted to make a difference, I definitely am. I joined some three years ago because I wanted the guard to become better than it was-- I wanted to become better. I'd like to think that's happening, for all of us. Well, for most of us," Ashton said, shooting a glance back at Vesper to a round of tentative chuckles. The glare she gave silenced the rest. Despite the look, Ashton himself gave a small laugh before continuing. "The city's safer than it has been in the past, thanks to you all. Crime is down, we've busted not just a few gangs, and bandits think twice before they attack now. If you'll all forgive me for getting a little misty eyed," Ashton joked, playfully wiping at his eyes. "I'm proud of you all."
Then Ashton's posture straightened, his one good hand slipped behind him in military ease, chin up, and he looked into the crowd of guards in front of him. "And I'm proud to be your guard-captain. Together, I'm absolutely sure that we'll be able to keep this city safe from anything, bandits, gangs, Qunari, and even, ugh, Templars. Meredith's not taking our city without a fight, right!?" Ashton said to the applause and shouts from the guard, and even his sour lieutenant managed a smile on her face.
"Alright, well, get to it! We're not going to do any of that with you all standing here clapping. If you do not have a copy of the patrol schedule, please see Lieutenant Vesper, she'll get you sorted out," With that Ashton gave the men a salute and turned, the crowd dispersing to do their jobs. Ashton instead went toward the entrance of the barracks, toward a certain Orlesian Warden. "Well, how'd I do Ser Warden?" He asked Stroud, a lopsided grin on his face.
“Rather more jokes than the Wardens usually get, but then I would hope as much.” Stroud, leaning against the doorway to the barracks, uncrossed his arms from in front of his chest and approached Ashton, nodding to Lieutenant Vesper as he passed her. “I was at the Keep regarding another matter when I remembered Nostariel mentioning your recent promotion. I see that it was very recent.” There was a trace of amusement in the Warden-Commander’s voice, and he appeared to take in the surroundings for a moment, though what he thought of them particularly, it was impossible to tell from only his expression.
He looked rather out-of-place, in one sense, his plate armor the blue and dull silver of the Grey Wardens rather than the burnt orange and shine of that belonging to Kirkwall’s guard, but there was perhaps an extent to which any military-like establishment was effectively the same, and his posture was not so far removed from that of any of the more conscientious guardsmen, really. “So perhaps my congratulations will be timely enough.”
"For what? A slightly better job title and significantly more work?" Ashton said with a laugh. "No, I appreciate it, and I really am glad I finally made it. It took somewhere around three years to get here, maybe now I can start to do some real good," he said scratching the back of his head. Here's to hoping, he guessed. The work wouldn't get any easier from then on out, but then again he'd be disappointed if it did. Then he chuckled again, "I still got some paperwork to file. I kind of had to rush some things because of our little... Adventure," he said, twitching the arm in the sling.
"Come on, let's continue this in my office. Some of the men might start to get nervous thinking you're here to conscript them," he said, gesturing toward the door with his head. The way that he said his office, Ashton was obviously getting a kick out of being the captain, though to be honest, it hadn't really struck him yet. Maybe it never would, in the end he was just another guard with just considerable more work.
Ashton led them into the office, and the first thing that greeted them was the mounted head of a High Dragon above his desk. He wasn't kidding when he said that he was going to mount its head, apparently. Ashton then went to the desk, reached into the bottom drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, "Want some? I don't drink, but the last captain left it for me. Would hate for it to go to waste."
“Well, then I suppose the drinking is all on me.” Stroud took a seat on the other side of the desk, glancing up at the dragon’s head and blinking laconically. “Interesting choice of decoration; are you trying to scare the shit out of the new recruits?” One of Stroud’s eyebrows inched up his weathered forehead, and he accepted a class of the whiskey from Ashton. “My thanks.”
Raising it to his nose, he took a sniff. Early contemporary age, Rivaini, probably from the south of the country. The previous captain had excellent taste in alcohol, but that might have been about it.
"It helps," Ashton said, grinning at the dragon. There aren't many people who would like to be reprimanded under the snarling visage of a dragon if he'd had a guess. "Certainly makes a statement. Says the captain isn't one to be crossed, you know, despite the silliness... Even if he did have help, between you and me," Ashton said with another laugh.
Taking a seat in his chair, his eyes fell on the half-filled form on the desk, before slowly sliding it out of view. Later, he decided. If he was asked why it was late, he'd just say he was improving relationships with the Wardens which technically wasn't a lie. "So how long have you been with the Wardens anyway? You certainly aren't some raw recruit or journeyman. Did your share of hauling my carcass around, if I remember."
Stroud wore a thoughtful expression for a moment, tipping his head up to the ceiling as though trying to remember something. “It has been almost… eighteen years now. Since my Joining. It is something that we at once try not to think about and find occasionally, startlingly, on our minds.” Returning his posture to the way it had been before, he swirled the liquid in his glass around a few times before knocking back a swallow. “I had not thought about it in a long time, before last week.”
"Yeah... Last week was tough," Ashton agreed, leaning back in his chair and his hand coming to rest on his chest. Then he shuddered and ran the hand though his hair. It wasn't amongst his most favorite memories, to be sure, even if most of it was a blur. But he remembered enough and that much was enough to make him uncomfortable. "Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood that depressing. I've just been with Nos so long that it's hard to, uh, remember these things," Ashton said, attempting to delicately sidestep the matter, more for his sake than Stroud's.
“It is an easy enough thing to forget, when one is not constantly battling Darkspawn. I gave Nostariel this post because I believed forgetting for a while would do her good. But nothing lasts forever, least of all a Warden’s peace and quiet.” He sighed into his glass, his breath fogging it slightly. “But you did no harm in the asking. Our reminder came from Corypheus, not you. It’s something we’ll have to come to terms with, just as we came to terms with our Joinings, and with the deaths of our comrades.” It was perhaps inevitable that talking with a Warden about time would eventually become a bit somber, but Stroud didn’t seem overly distraught. Rather, there was a kind of quiet reserve to him, almost but not quite a resignation.
“There has been talk of restructuring our postings, again. Some of the commanders at Weisshaupt think it a bad idea to let our officers get complacent in one place for long. I have made the argument that having Wardens posted places they are familiar with is the better strategic move, but it is difficult to predict headquarters.” His eyes had sharpened, and he was making steady eye contact with Ashton now. “Death is not the only way to cut time short.”
"Yeah, I know," Ashton answered, learning forward on the desk resting on his hand. Instead of trying to explain himself, he remained quiet for a moment before continuing. "She's done a lot of good here, you know?" He said, leaning back. "She's one of the pillars of the community, things in this city would be a lot worse off without her." He then chuckled wistfully shaking his head, "Half of us are still alive because of it. Ithilian, Sophia, and myself I know. You've done more for this city than you know by giving her this post."
Stroud’s mouth pulled up into a wry smile. “Perhaps, but I think I’m beginning to understand.” He finished off the last of the drink, setting the glass down gently on the edge of Ashton’s desk. “I was the one who took her from the Circle, you know? And… I was the one who brought her here, after her squad was killed.” He rubbed at his stubble thoughtfully. “If it were up to me, I’d keep her here. Kirkwall has done her good, and she has done it some good in return.” The implication still hung in the air, though—he wasn’t solely responsible for that decision.
“I also wanted to say… that I regret what happened, in the Deep Roads. Our minds were not ours, and though I cannot apologize for something that was not of my own will, I do regret that it harmed the rest of you.” He paused. “The Wardens owe all of you their thanks, for what you helped prevent. Had it been just the two of us, or any number of our order at all… we would not have succeeded.”
Ashton waved the thanks off and leaned back in the chair, "Don't mention it," he said with a laugh. A moment later however, the smile slipped right off his face and was replaced with tight-lipped frown, "Seriously. Don't mention it. I'd like to forget most of it." While he wanted to say that he's had worse times in his life, that would be a lie. Warden secrets, demon infested tunnels, and a darkspawn magister at the end of it all wasn't exactly one of the memories he wanted to keep, but it was stuck with him nonetheless. He had scars to remind him if he did forget.
"How... Is she, anyway?" he asked tentatively. Since they returned to Kirkwall, Ashton hadn't seen Nostariel.
Stroud gave him a flat look. “That, I think, is something you should discern for yourself.” His tone hinted at his certainty regarding his statement, but he did relent a little. “She is confronting her own mortality, and several facts about her history that she did not know. It is going about as well as you would expect, considering.” He grimaced slightly, but then shook his head and stood.
“But I should be going. I depart Kirkwall tomorrow. Congratulations again, Guard-Captain. May your tenure be quiet and uneventful.” He sounded skeptical of such a possibility, however.
"I'd be doing my job wrong if that was the case," Ashton answered as she stood with Stroud. "If you ever find yourself out this way again, you'll always be welcome here," he added, extending his hand.
"I've got official business to get to anyway. A favor for a friend and a man in a dungeon."
Stroud clasped his hand, nodded, and took his leave.