Soul of the Night Chapter 1

Dragon Age: Soul of the Night

Chapter 1 On the Streets of Dust Town

Orzammar

Garik Brosca strode through the Commons of Orzammar, ignoring the glares and offended looks of the other castes. Leske, his long time friend, trailed after him. Garik was a bit short, even for a dwarf, but he was stocky, with long reddish brown hair tied in a ponytail. “I’m about ready to feed Beraht his teeth, Lesk,” Garik grumbled.

“I know, but for now, let’s just do what he says, Duster. He’s already twitchy enough.”

Garik smirked. Leske was referring to Oskias, the merchant that Beraht had sent the pair of them after. Eager to tweak Beraht’s nose, and pocket a little coin while he was at it, Garik had convinced Oskias to hand over a pair of lyrium nuggets and let the merchant go. Afterwards, the pair had convinced Beraht that Oskias was dead, though the Stone-forsaken bastard had sent them on a second errand.

“So this is a gift, huh? I’ve never been to a Proving,” Leske said as they walked.

“Neither have I. What are they like?” Garik asked.

“You know, two sweaty Warrior Caste men, all oiled up by servant girls and wrapped in shining smith-wrought steel… hundreds of beautiful women watching from the stands, wanting nothing more than to rub them down afterwards.”

“Whoa, easy there!” Garik chuckled. “Don’t stain anything.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to sneak in and see one for yourself.”

“I always wanted to be the one in the ring.”

“Hah!” Leske laughed. “I bet you could beat the beards off most of those overstuffed swaggers. Wouldn’t that be nice? And if gold coins fell from my mouth whenever I spoke, that would be grand. And only slightly less likely.”

“Why would the Grey Wardens care who wins a Proving?” Garik questioned.

“Think about their responsibility Take these humans and elves who’ve spent their whole lives flitting around and eating figs and teach them to fight darkspawn. Of course they’re going to need a dwarf to help them. Here they get to pick from the best of the vein.”

“Doesn’t joining the Wardens mean going to the surface?”

“Not like turning your back on the Stone to take a Caravan topside. Fighting darkspawn is a sacred duty. The king decreed long ago that a dwarf who joins the Wardens keeps his caste.”

“Why should we care what happens topside?”

“We don’t. Unless there are enough darkspawn to go up there, because that means there’s something leading them. And that means an archdemon. And that means a Blight. Which means possibly the end of life as we know it.”

Garik nodded, his curiosity sated. “Let’s get moving before we miss the Proving.”

“From your lips to my ears,” Leske chuckled.

They passed the proving guard with little issue once Garik flashed the pass Beraht had given him. “Stone’s embrace!” Leske breathed as they entered the Main Hall. “That's one of them. One of the Grey Wardens.” There was no mistaking the silver griffin emblazoned on the cuirass of the human standing in the middle of the hall. He looked younger than Garik had anticipated. Most Grey Wardens that Garik knew of were much older. The human’s hair was dark red, resembling the color of blood, and tied back in a braided ponytail. His matching beard was trimmed neatly and nowhere near as long as some of the nobles or warriors. But it was the human’s eyes that really caught Garik’s attention. They shined a bluish grey, resembling fire hardened steel, and when they caught the light from a torch the right way, they seemed to glow. Garik was drawn from his thoughts by Leske. “Oh I dare you to go over and talk to him. Say, 'Welcome to Orzammar, Warden Ser. May I drink your bath water?'"

Garik swatted his best friend before striding over to the human. The young man turned to him with a friendly smile. “Stone-met and blessings on your house,” he said. When Garik’s eyebrows shot up, the human’s gaze became quizzical. “That was the proper greeting for an outsider when my commander last visited Orzammar. Has it changed? Or is there a reason you are looking at me so strangely?”

Garik scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “In my part of Orzammar, we just go with ‘Hello,”

The human chuckled. “We do the same in my part of Ferelden. Hello, then. My name is Conrí Cousland. I’d say, ‘of the Grey Wardens,’ but I suspect you already know that.”

“I am Garik of…” Garik sighed. He wasn’t going to lie. Not to a Warden. “Of nobody.” Conrí’s expression changed, though not in a way Garik expected. He looked… troubled.

“Ah…. That’s what the face brand means then. I remember that now.”

“I’m sorry to bother you…”

“I never turn down the chance to meet someone new,” Conrí told him with a smile. “When we visit Orzammar, we tend to remain in the Diamond Quarter. You forget how much of the city you miss.”

Garik smirked. He liked this human. “Is it true you’re here looking for recruits?”

“The Wardens are always looking for those who have the courage to spend their lives in battle against the darkspawn. It's rare we find those with both the skill and the will. The best Wardens are ruthless to their enemies, compassionate to their friends, and inspiring to their troops. It's a lot to look for, but I hope to find it here. And I hope you also may find what you are looking for.” Conrí inclined his head and strode off, heading towards the VIP booth.

“I can't believe you talked to him! A Grey Warden!” Leske laughed, slugging Garik playfully on the shoulder as they made their way towards the fighters’ prep area. They quickly found Everd’s room, but what they found inside was not bracing. Everd was on the floor, groaning and talking in his sleep and the room stank of booze.

“Sod it!” Leske swore. “He’s stone drunk! He could draw a dead man for his bout and still lose. Ach! Beraht’s going to kill us if we slip up here. He’s already jumpy enough after that stunt with Oskias—Hey… I just had an idea…

“I could put on his armor. You know, fight in his name,” Garik suggested.

“That’s much better than my idea. I was going to say we should go up into the stands and start a rockslide, but you’re brilliant! You’ll be Everd. You’ll go out in his armor, keep down the visor, and fight in his name. He wins, Beraht wins, everybody wins. Except all the Warrior Caste braggarts you leave kissing dust,” Leske cackled. “I sodding love the way you think, my friend. I was afraid Beraht was going to kill us!”

“If I do this, I’ll win by skill alone. I won’t use the drug.”

“You’ve got a heart of steel, salroka. Get in the armor.”

The duo had just finished adjusting the last of the armors straps when the Proving Master’s voice boomed down the hall. “Bout three is next. Officer Mainar versus the warrior Everd! Fighters, report to the ring.”

“No more time!” Leske groaned, tightening the last harness. “Make sure you have everything and go tell the proving guard when you’re ready to fight. And don’t forget to keep your helmet down!” he added, slamming the visor into place.

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Conrí watched the Proving in the Royal Booth next to the Proving Master. This Everd had demonstrated serious skill, even defeating a Silent Sister. Perhaps he would accept a position as a Warden.

“Everd will advance to the final bout, to decide who is the true champion of the ring, against--”

The Proving Master was cut off as a dwarf stumbled into the ring. “Wha-?” he grunted drunkenly. Garik’s eyes widened as he recognized the real Everd. “Is my bout a’ready? Hey! That’s my armor!”

“Who are you?!” the Proving Master demanded. “How dare you interrupt this sacred--”

“Wait!” Mainar shouted. “I know that man. That’s Everd! Then… what imposter did I fight?”

“Remove your helmet warrior, and let all who watched see your face.”

Garik glanced at the numerous guards closing in on him. There was no way to escape. With a sigh, knowing what would come next, Garik reluctantly removed the helm, tossing it aside defiantly. The crowd roared in anger, seeing the brand on his right cheek. He glared around, not backing down.

Conrí stood as well, his face contemplative. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully even as the Proving Master spat like a rabid mongrel. “Castless! You insult the very nature of this Proving! Guards, take this… filth away!”

“Hold your men, I pray you,” Conrí implored. “This warrior has defeated the best you have to offer. Is that not what this Proving is for?”

“We are honored by your presence, Warden, but this Proving is not solely for you. There are laws that have governed this arena for a thousand years,” the Proving Master turned to Garik, disdain dripping from his tone. “This man is no warrior! He is castless, rejected by the ancestors. His very footsteps pollute the stone. He has no place here!”

“Except as your champion,” Conrí told him coolly.

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Garik was roused from unconsciousness by a familiar voice. “Are you awake yet? Psst! Can you hear me?” Garik got up, his head throbbing. “How hard did they sodding hit you anyway? Did you have to put up such a fight?”

“Leske?” Garik asked rubbing his head. “What happened?”

“As soon as everyone saw your face brand, the place went mad. Shut all the doors, examined everyone for family and caste. One of the guards recognized me and figured we must be working together. They burned three candles to the stump interrogating me about who put us up to this. I think they knew, ya know, about Beraht.”

“This doesn’t look like your typical guard cell,” Garik commented. The bars were slightly rusted and the place stank of blood.

“Huh, I guess not. I mean, I’ve been in most of them. They don’t usually have… this many stains on the walls. Uh, any chance you see a way out?”

“Good. You’re both awake. Beraht will be happy to hear that,” a female castless came into the room. It was Jarvia, Beraht’s lieutenant. “You caused a lot of trouble today. Beraht lost a hundred sovereigns for lord Vollney. The entire proving was declared invalid and the Assembly already called for an investigation. You can’t imagine the state Beraht was in when he told me to get you.”

“Where are we?” Garik demanded.

“That’s right,” Jarvia laughed smugly. “You’ve never had the privilege of being down here. You’re in one of the deep cells in Beraht’s estate. He built it into the ruins of old Orzammar.  Plenty of room to store gold and lyrium. And nice thick walls so no one can hear the screams.”

“But how did we get here?”

“I brought you. You’ve got every guardsmen at that Proving thinking if he takes your head off, he’ll be blessed by the Ancestors forever. But they know who’s hand holds the whip. When Beraht claimed you, they knew who would get to watch your last breath.”

“Let him come,” Garik snarled. “He’ll see I don’t scare easy.”

“I don’t think scaring you is Beraht has in mind. You risked exposing him before the entire Warrior Caste. Now they’re asking questions, and as long as you have tongues to answer them, you’re a threat. Have a good last night, boys. Beraht’ll be by soon to make sure you maintain your silence.” With a last smug smile, Jarvia left, chuckling.

Garik cursed as a jailor came into view, no doubt left by Jarvia. In his frustration, he kicked the door to his cell, making it rattle and clank. “Hey, leave off with your noise! You’re givin’ me a headache!” the jailor grumbled his dull tone irritated. This guy obviously wasn’t too bright. An idea struck Garik, so he put on a mad sounding voice.

“Ooh, that’s how it started for me too!” he cackled.

“What do you mean?” the jailor leaned in. With one swift movement, Garik reached through the bars, grabbed the neck of the idiot’s armor and slammed his head repeatedly against the bars. The jailor went down with a pained groan, the gashes on his head gushing blood. Shaking blood from his hand, Garik rooted through the jailor’s pockets, pulling a key from one. He opened his cell door quickly, and did the same for Leske’s.

“If we wanna get away with this, we can’t leave one man alive to tell Beraht what we’ve done,” said Leske as the pair made their way over to the chest holding their belongings. Once suited and armed, the pair of Dust Town rogues made their way through Beraht’s estate, slaughtering any they came upon.

After far too many skirmishes, Garik slumped against a wall, sliding to the floor as he struggled to catch his breath. “Ugh… how deep are these tunnels?” he muttered.

“Ya got me, Duster,” Leske groaned as he plopped down next to Garik.

After a long stretch of silence, marred only by heavy breathing, Garik spoke again. “Ya know, Lesk, ya don’t have to stick with me here. You could probably find your own way out.”

Leske chuckled tiredly. “Ach, knock that talk off and get your head outta the dust, Brand. I’ve stuck by you since we were both stealing bread and that ain’t about to change.”

Garik smirked to cover the happiness at his friends loyalty. “Alright. It’s on your head now.”

“What else is new?” the pair rose and continued on. Soon the caves began to resemble the lower levels of a basement. Not long after, they came across an intersection of three doorways. “We must be getting close to an exit.”

Garik approached a door and beckoned Leske closer. The pair of rogues pressed their ears to the cool metal.

“… If that turncoat brother of hers can’t keep his head down, I have no use for precious Rica either,” Garik heard the bastard muttering.

“Rica?” asked one of Beraht’s guards. “That the one you’ve got all done up in lace? Ooh, I’ve been wanting to get my hands on that!”

The other guard chuckled. “I know what you mean.”

“She’s yours if you want her, boys,” Beraht chuckled. “And let me tell ya, tastes as good as it looks.” Garik growled ferally, drawing his daggers as he kicked the door open and stalked toward Beraht. “What is that doing out of its cage?” he asked with a drawl.

“It…” Garik snarled. “Was just looking for a way out… but now I’m here for your blood.”

“Let’s teach this little duster a lesson,” Beraht sneered. The trio charged the escaped prisoners, drawing blades. Garik grinned savagely as he ducked under one of the thug’s axe and drove his dagger into the duster’s ribs, piercing his lung. The thug went down with a bloody gurgle, the dagger still embedded in his torso. Leske slipped behind the second thug when his attention was drawn to Garik and slit his throat.

Garik sidestepped Beraht’s swing as Leske fell back, knowing Garik wanted Beraht all to himself. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this day, you sodding cave tick,” Garik growled as he spun his remaining dagger.

Beraht chuckled condescendingly. “I have an inkling, you waste of space. Ya know, before you charged in here like you own the place, I was just planning on cutting your whore sister loose. But now I think I’m gonna pay her and your mother one last little visit.”

Garik snarled. “Not while I breathe,”

“That’s the point,” Beraht swung his shield, aiming to stun the rogue, but Garik dodged back and side stepped when Beraht swung his axe again. Garik grabbed his former ‘employer’s’ wrist twisted and wrenched the axe from Beraht’s grip. When Beraht turned to retaliate, Garik drove his dagger into Beraht’s chest. Beraht’s face dropped in shock, looking down at the blade embedded to the hilt through his chestplate.

“Just another duster, eh?” Garik growled, rearing back with Beraht’s axe. The crime lord’s face was still locked into an expression of shock even as his own axe sliced his head from his body. Garik wrenched his dagger from the headless corpse, letting it fall to the stone.

Garik barely had time to spit on what was once Beraht before Leske came forward and slapped him on the back. “Did you see him standing there all ‘When we’re done with you!’ and you just charged in and sodding slaughtered him! You have to be the luckiest duster in Orzammar. Beraht’s dead and we’re standing here! Hail to the sodding king!”

“I had hoped he’d have time to beg for mercy,” Garik chuckled darkly.

“Oh, he was begging,” Leske assured him. “That look of utter surprise on his face when he tasted his own blood! That’s as close to begging as Beraht gets.”

“I have to make sure Rica, is okay,” Garik muttered, remembering Beraht’s words.

“Well, he sure was talking like she was still alive. But I won’t turn down a chance to take another peek,” Leske grinned. “Hey, could you tell Rica I killed him? I mean, it doesn’t do you any good if she thinks you’re the most virile warrior in all the stone.”

“You really want to say that while I’m holding a weapon?” Garik asked, his eyebrow raising humorously as he belted the axe and wrenched his dagger from the carta thug’s ribs.

“Good point,” Leske chuckled. “Fortunately, if Beraht’s got them trained the way he said he has, it should be a good long while before any guardsmen show up.”

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Really, Lesk? Garik thought sourly. They were already surrounded.

“Drop your weapons and walk down slowly,” said the Proving Master. “We will use force if you resist.” Garik snorted. Before the Master could continue a pair of familiar faces interrupted. It was Conrí of the Grey Wardens followed closely by Rica.

“I’m the victim here! I was kidnapped!” Garik snapped before the Proving Master could continue.

“You do not speak until the shapers have judged you!”

“One moment, my friend,” Conrí spoke up. “Did you not suggest this Beraht might have arranged their convenient escape?”

“Regardless, the penalty for impersonating a higher caste is death.”

“If this Beraht is as influential as you say, perhaps he also masterminded with Everd’s impersonation.”

“Last I saw Beraht he was suffering a bad case of dead,” Garik snickered, thumbing the axe in his belt.

“He’s dead?” the Proving Master balked. “Beraht had many enemies but also powerful allies. They--”

“Beraht would have butchered us if he hadn’t killed him first!” Leske protested.

“Your friend has once again shown his courage,” Conrí told the casteless. “We Grey Wardens travel far and wide in search of those with the potential to join our ranks. It seems like I’ve found one. Let me make my offer formal then. I, Conrí Cousland, Lieutenant of the Grey, extend the invitation for you to join our order.”

“This man is a criminal!” the Proving Master protested. “You can’t do this!”

“I can and I am,” Conrí told the aged dwarf firmly. “It would mean travelling to the surface lands and thus leaving your people, but it allow you the chance to fight against the darkspawn and the Blight.”

“What’s the trick?” Garik asked, suspicious of this sudden charity.

“It’s no trick, but it is a dangerous life. I cannot promise your safety. Neither can I give you anything in return for these hazards. In joining us, you leave behind all you’ve known.”

Garik was silent for a long moment. “I’d like to talk to my sister before I decide.”

Conrí nodded in understanding. “I’d wager your friend would like a word with you as well. Why don’t you see what they have to say before you answer?”

Rica darted forward. “I couldn’t believe it when Ser Conrí said he wanted to recruit you,” she gushed. “I was ready to kill you when I heard what you did at the Proving, but it worked out for the best.

“What are you doing here, sis?” Garik asked.

“When I heard you’ve been arrested, I ran straight to the Proving Grounds, but you’d already disappeared. That’s when Ser Conrí said he wanted to invite you into the Grey Wardens. I almost fell over.”

Garik sighed and placed his gloved hand on his sister’s cheek. “I don’t want to leave you alone here,”

“Those are the rules of the order,” Rica told him sadly. “All Wardens leave their families behind.”

“But how will you take care of yourself and Mother?”

“Please don’t hold yourself back because of me. I think, for the first time, mother and I will be fine. I spent the afternoon with my new patron,” Rica went on, snickering at her brothers sour, slightly disgust look. “If everything works out… maybe I can even greet you as an equal if you return.”

“Truly? You won’t starve?”

“I promise. My patron would never allow it. He has already promised to move Mother and me into better lodging, where he can find me more quickly when he wants me.”

Garik smiled in spite of the stabbing image of his sister with some noble snob. “If I’m leaving I should tell Mother goodbye.”

“When I left she was passed out,” Rica told him sourly. “I couldn’t even wake her to tell her you’d been arrested. Don’t let her ruin this day. I’ll tell her you’ve gone to the surface for a better life than she ever gave you.”

Garik kissed his sister on the brow before turning to Leske. “Those guys must have seriously cracked your skull,” Leske breathed. “You’re not going to turn down being a Grey Warden are you?”

“I don’t want to leave Rica...”

“Well don’t you worry about that,” Leske snickered. “Ol’ Leske’ll take care of her…”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Garik snorted with laughter. “You’re right, I should go.”

“Well, go back and tell him yes before he comes to his senses!”

Garik nodded and strode over to where Conrí had elected to wait. A small number of other humans had joined him. “I take it you have spoken to your friend and sister?”

“I have,” Garik told him. “I accept, if you’ll have me.”

Conrí smiled. “Then before these witnesses, I welcome you to the Order. Ulrich,” he turned to a slightly older man with a bow across his back. “Take our new brother to one of the smiths and get him kitted out with proper armor and weapons.”

“Right away, Lieutenant,”

“Garik, we will meet you in the Diamond Quarter at the Warden’s retreat.”

Garik bowed and followed Ulrich.