It was quiet, now that most were gone.
Sophia Dumar, Viscountess of Kirkwall, the proud Free Marcher city-state, didn't mind. There were no mages for the Templars to quarrel with, and the Templars were kept in line by their able and effective new Knight-Commander. There was no army of Qunari to keep calm, no fanatics inciting war within the city walls, no kidnappings of friends and family... just quiet. The rebuilding efforts went on. Kirkwall's new Chantry would be a little less imposing, a little more humble. A place of worship and compassion, not of power and authority.
Sophia, the woman, was often saddened by the quiet, the kind of quiet that was brought on by the absence of many of her friends. She wondered daily how Lucien and his Argent Lions fared in Orlais. She wondered where in the world Aurora and Sparrow had ended up, and she hoped they had found a place to belong, to help. She wondered where Ithilian and Amalia had gone; they told very few people, as she heard it. Sophia suspected that if they wanted to be found, they would simply appear.
Her days sometimes seemed mundane compared to years past. Vesenia no longer saw much use. She wielded practice swords against many of Ashton's best instead, both to keep herself in form, and to do the same for them. She rarely had time to visit Nostariel's clinic, and thankfully did not often have cause, apart from a desire to see a close friend. The days of collecting new scars appeared to be behind her.
One afternoon, it became quiet enough that Sophia decided a walk was in order. She removed her finery and donned simpler garments in their place. She called for a pair of guards, to escort from a distance. And she asked for Nostariel and Ashton... the Rivieras, to join her. Very little made her as happy as seeing the two of them together. They'd both been through so much, and greatly deserved. She knew they felt the same about her and Lucien... but that celebration was not yet to come.
She met them in Hightown, and they walked almost aimlessly. Sophia had heard rumor that Nostariel might not be as present in the city soon, and wanted to make sure that whatever happened, they were able to at least spend some more time together, the three of them that remained in the City of Chains.
Nostariel walked in the middle, her arms looped casually through one of each of the others’, the short one between two considerably taller people, a visual effect that was doubtless at least a little bit amusing. For today, she had forgone anything but a simple tunic and leggings, seeing as how the weather was being generous and leaving them with pleasant warmth. She allowed herself to bask in it, as well as in the warmth of her husband and her friend.
But like so many of her other friends, she knew that this was only a temporary pause. The Wardens, who had for so long seemed content to let her be, now occasionally called her to work, in one way or another, but there was something even beyond that which was beckoning to her, bidding her away from Kirkwall, and she was not sure she had the fortitude to resist it for long. She would leave, she knew, probably many times in the coming years, but she knew also that she would continue to return until that was no longer possible.
They passed the construction site for the new Chantry, which was being built on the bones of the old. A memorial to those who’d died that day was already standing, a spire of stone with dozens of names carved upon its face. “It’s coming along nicely.” This, she stated of the building taking shape behind the monument, the Chantry itself. She rather liked the humbler edifice she’d seen sketched in the architect’s drawings, and had emphatically approved of Sophia’s selection of blueprints. From the way it rose, pale stone still open to the sky even as a hundred hands worked to bring it higher, it would be just as good as what had been before, and better, even, more reflective of Kirkwall’s character.
The Guards-Captain's plate still shimmered in all its polished glory, finding a home on Ashton's chest more often then not these days. While there always seemed to be work that needed the Captain's attention, he always made a point to give priority over his friend and wife. Without either of them, he doubted there would even be a Captain Riviera to speak of. It felt like an eternity since he traded the shop for the barracks. He wondered briefly about the renovations it was undergoing, what with Lia's departure, and no one else remaining to take over ownership.
"Yeah, it is," he agreed, turning his eyes to the skeleton of the new Chantry.
They carried on past the Chantry site, through the heart of Hightown, and to the entrance to Sophia's family manor. She still owned it, and saw to its upkeep, but the interior was mostly bare. She'd moved mostly everything back to the Keep, where it belonged. All that remained of her parents, a few cherished items, kept safely stored. Art decorated the walls, many of the pieces painted by Lucien's loving hand, though none stood out quite like the image of her mother, proud and strong, in the office. The vision that was her kept Sophia strong when the work of being Viscountess mounted.
They moved through the market, past stalls of familiar faces, merchants proudly trying to catch the eye of the Viscountess, or the Guard-Captain. Perhaps she would purchase something on the way back. For the moment, she wanted a view, not from the removed perch of the Viscount's Keep, but from within the city's streets, this place she'd lived and breathed in from the day she was born. She was not born royalty, or the heir to the fate of a city. She was the daughter of a minor nobleman, and made herself one of the people through trials of sacrifice and blood. She never wanted to separate herself from the rest. Just as she never wanted to separate from her friends.
But all things had to come to an end at some point. Kirkwall's darkest times had passed, with them to see it through. Their time within its walls would end, one way or another, just as surely as the sun would set in the evening. The trick, Sophia had decided, was to cherish the moment she lived in, and always strive to ensure more would come in the future.
"I'm glad to have been with you," she said, looking out over the city from the top of its mighty stairs. "Through it all..."
Sophia Dumar, Viscountess of Kirkwall, the proud Free Marcher city-state, didn't mind. There were no mages for the Templars to quarrel with, and the Templars were kept in line by their able and effective new Knight-Commander. There was no army of Qunari to keep calm, no fanatics inciting war within the city walls, no kidnappings of friends and family... just quiet. The rebuilding efforts went on. Kirkwall's new Chantry would be a little less imposing, a little more humble. A place of worship and compassion, not of power and authority.
Sophia, the woman, was often saddened by the quiet, the kind of quiet that was brought on by the absence of many of her friends. She wondered daily how Lucien and his Argent Lions fared in Orlais. She wondered where in the world Aurora and Sparrow had ended up, and she hoped they had found a place to belong, to help. She wondered where Ithilian and Amalia had gone; they told very few people, as she heard it. Sophia suspected that if they wanted to be found, they would simply appear.
Her days sometimes seemed mundane compared to years past. Vesenia no longer saw much use. She wielded practice swords against many of Ashton's best instead, both to keep herself in form, and to do the same for them. She rarely had time to visit Nostariel's clinic, and thankfully did not often have cause, apart from a desire to see a close friend. The days of collecting new scars appeared to be behind her.
One afternoon, it became quiet enough that Sophia decided a walk was in order. She removed her finery and donned simpler garments in their place. She called for a pair of guards, to escort from a distance. And she asked for Nostariel and Ashton... the Rivieras, to join her. Very little made her as happy as seeing the two of them together. They'd both been through so much, and greatly deserved. She knew they felt the same about her and Lucien... but that celebration was not yet to come.
She met them in Hightown, and they walked almost aimlessly. Sophia had heard rumor that Nostariel might not be as present in the city soon, and wanted to make sure that whatever happened, they were able to at least spend some more time together, the three of them that remained in the City of Chains.
Nostariel walked in the middle, her arms looped casually through one of each of the others’, the short one between two considerably taller people, a visual effect that was doubtless at least a little bit amusing. For today, she had forgone anything but a simple tunic and leggings, seeing as how the weather was being generous and leaving them with pleasant warmth. She allowed herself to bask in it, as well as in the warmth of her husband and her friend.
But like so many of her other friends, she knew that this was only a temporary pause. The Wardens, who had for so long seemed content to let her be, now occasionally called her to work, in one way or another, but there was something even beyond that which was beckoning to her, bidding her away from Kirkwall, and she was not sure she had the fortitude to resist it for long. She would leave, she knew, probably many times in the coming years, but she knew also that she would continue to return until that was no longer possible.
They passed the construction site for the new Chantry, which was being built on the bones of the old. A memorial to those who’d died that day was already standing, a spire of stone with dozens of names carved upon its face. “It’s coming along nicely.” This, she stated of the building taking shape behind the monument, the Chantry itself. She rather liked the humbler edifice she’d seen sketched in the architect’s drawings, and had emphatically approved of Sophia’s selection of blueprints. From the way it rose, pale stone still open to the sky even as a hundred hands worked to bring it higher, it would be just as good as what had been before, and better, even, more reflective of Kirkwall’s character.
The Guards-Captain's plate still shimmered in all its polished glory, finding a home on Ashton's chest more often then not these days. While there always seemed to be work that needed the Captain's attention, he always made a point to give priority over his friend and wife. Without either of them, he doubted there would even be a Captain Riviera to speak of. It felt like an eternity since he traded the shop for the barracks. He wondered briefly about the renovations it was undergoing, what with Lia's departure, and no one else remaining to take over ownership.
"Yeah, it is," he agreed, turning his eyes to the skeleton of the new Chantry.
They carried on past the Chantry site, through the heart of Hightown, and to the entrance to Sophia's family manor. She still owned it, and saw to its upkeep, but the interior was mostly bare. She'd moved mostly everything back to the Keep, where it belonged. All that remained of her parents, a few cherished items, kept safely stored. Art decorated the walls, many of the pieces painted by Lucien's loving hand, though none stood out quite like the image of her mother, proud and strong, in the office. The vision that was her kept Sophia strong when the work of being Viscountess mounted.
They moved through the market, past stalls of familiar faces, merchants proudly trying to catch the eye of the Viscountess, or the Guard-Captain. Perhaps she would purchase something on the way back. For the moment, she wanted a view, not from the removed perch of the Viscount's Keep, but from within the city's streets, this place she'd lived and breathed in from the day she was born. She was not born royalty, or the heir to the fate of a city. She was the daughter of a minor nobleman, and made herself one of the people through trials of sacrifice and blood. She never wanted to separate herself from the rest. Just as she never wanted to separate from her friends.
But all things had to come to an end at some point. Kirkwall's darkest times had passed, with them to see it through. Their time within its walls would end, one way or another, just as surely as the sun would set in the evening. The trick, Sophia had decided, was to cherish the moment she lived in, and always strive to ensure more would come in the future.
"I'm glad to have been with you," she said, looking out over the city from the top of its mighty stairs. "Through it all..."
Kirkwall's most tumultuous years were behind it. The surviving mages departed the city, leaving for destinations unknown, and an uncertain future, while the Templars under Knight-Commander Cullen dedicated themselves to defense and reconstruction, rebuilding both the city and their image from the ground up. Only time would tell if the people could forgive, or if the Templars could truly change. The Qunari left a lasting impact on the city from their time within the Docks, but their influence would fade over time, as those drawn to the Qun's ideals drifted from Kirkwall.
Although Kirkwall became a quieter place, the larger stage was only beginning to stir. As news of the mage rebellion spread, more Circles followed the lead of Kirkwall, and resisted the Templars watching over them. Before long, war was imminent, a war capable of tearing all of Thedas asunder if it could not be kept in check. The nations of the world would look to the south, to Ferelden and Orlais, as the primary battlegrounds between magic and faith.
For the nine individuals whose lives intertwined in Kirkwall, the journey was not yet concluded. There was the business of thrones to be resolved, the rebuilding of a city and an Order, the fight against oppression, the tying up of loose ends, and the hopeful establishment of a true home. Their stories would go on, even as other figures rose to take center stage. But the city of Kirkwall would always remember them for what they'd done.
They would always remember the stories of those that lived, struggled, fought, and loved in...
Although Kirkwall became a quieter place, the larger stage was only beginning to stir. As news of the mage rebellion spread, more Circles followed the lead of Kirkwall, and resisted the Templars watching over them. Before long, war was imminent, a war capable of tearing all of Thedas asunder if it could not be kept in check. The nations of the world would look to the south, to Ferelden and Orlais, as the primary battlegrounds between magic and faith.
For the nine individuals whose lives intertwined in Kirkwall, the journey was not yet concluded. There was the business of thrones to be resolved, the rebuilding of a city and an Order, the fight against oppression, the tying up of loose ends, and the hopeful establishment of a true home. Their stories would go on, even as other figures rose to take center stage. But the city of Kirkwall would always remember them for what they'd done.
They would always remember the stories of those that lived, struggled, fought, and loved in...
