Chapter Text
Troubles with Tevinter
Chapter 1
Hate the Smell of Fish
The first thing Alick noticed upon entering the port city of Aynor was the smell. The scents of fish and brine mingled together to create a singular perfume that turned Alick’s stomach and caused him to wrinkle his nose under his rust colored hood. Despite the nauseating smell, Alick was glad to be back in a city. Nearly a week spent sleeping in hedges or nestled against a tree had caused his muscles to cramp and made his posture resemble that of a man four times his age. He fervently hoped he could find a place to sleep that could at least boast a floor free from stones and tree roots. A dusty corner under a staircase would be an improvement.
Alick moved carefully through the crowds, doing his best to not draw attention. The destruction of his phylactery meant the Templars couldn't track him easily, but they could still search for him. He knew that Aynor was an obvious choice of destination for any fleeing mage, but it was obvious because it is also the most practical. The ports of Kirkwall were too saturated with Templars to make an escape that way possible. Aynor boasted a lively seaport with a myriad of ships from all over Thedas. This increased Alick’s chances of boarding a ship out of the Free Marches before the Templars caught up with him.
As he wove through the crowd and heard the merchants shouting their wares, he thought of Eitan, his brother. He wondered if the Templars realized Alick had escaped and if they suspected Eitan responsible. It was unlikely. Eitan was Tranquil and that meant no one would suspect him of harboring any brotherly affection for Alick. Or any kind of affection for that matter. The Templars had no clue. Neither did the mages or the Chantry, he suspected. If they knew that even a single Tranquil was not only capable of feeling but also taking the initiative and acting on those feelings, they'd kill all the Tranquil. He hoped Eitan was okay. He had to believe his brother was unharmed or the guilt would crush him.
Alick pulled himself out of this thoughts and stopped in front of a worn looking tavern. He knew he didn’t have enough money for a fancy Inn, but hoped he could negotiate something at a place with a less desirable decor.
The dim interior caused Alick to pause at the doorway. Once his eyes adjusted he spied the bar located opposite a large hearth. Walking up he made eye contact with the surly looking bar keep who stared at the young mage wordlessly.
“Hi. I, uh, was hoping to get a room for the night?” The barman remained silent for so long Alick was convinced the man was deaf or maybe didn’t speak the King’s Tongue.
He was about to repeat himself when the man said, “Fifty silver.”
“Fifty! For this place?” Alick realized saying that out loud was probably a bad idea but it was too late.
The barman scowled at Alick and spat on the floor behind the bar. “If this place ‘ain’t fancy ‘nough for you your Lordship, yer welcome to go try one of the other Inns in Merchants row. Though I doubt you’ll find their prices more agreeable.”
Alick realized the barman had a point. “My apologies. I’ve been on the road awhile. Fifty silver will be fine.”
Alick gave the money over in exchange for a key and grunted directions to a small room on the top floor which was essentially a poorly renovated attic. The room was small, barely more than a closet, with a low, narrow bed complete with a worn blanket. It would do, Alick thought, though not worth fifty silver. He only planned to stay the one night and it was a far sight better than the damp forest floor. He dropped his small pack on the floor and collapsed onto the bed fully clothed. He was asleep in moments.
Alick awoke the next morning with fewer cramps in his back than he’d had since fleeing the tower. He hoped he could find similar accommodations in the future, but he wouldn’t count on it. Carrying his small bag over his shoulder he went downstairs still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He rounded the corner of the stairwell, intent on finding some breakfast when his eyes fell on two men in plate armour sitting at the round table nearest the hearth. Their armor bore the sword flames of the Templar Order. He froze. Could they have caught up with him already? He shouldn’t have stayed so long. Frozen in panic he hadn’t realize he had stopped in the middle of the tavern. The Templar on the right, an older man with light brown hair and grey eyes, noticed and gave a surprisingly friendly smile. Alick shook himself and quickly turned away hoping the friendly Templar would take his behavior for awe at seeing an esteemed Chantry Templar in the flesh. He quickly moved to the bar and shoved the room key at the barman. As Alick moved to the door he risked a glance at the seated Templars. He wished he hadn’t. The younger one was eyeing Alick with suspicion. He turned and quickly hurried out the door.
As he walked through the docks Alick glanced carefully at each ship he passed before dismissing it and moving on to the next. He was nearing the end of the dock when his eyes fell on a fairly large three masted ship with a rather unusual looking woman on the bow. He spotted a man who Alick assumed was the first mate due to his clothing being in slightly better condition than the motley crew he was shouting orders to as they loaded crates on the ship’s deck. Alick walked up to him, feigning confidence he didn’t feel, and cleared his throat. The dark-haired sailor turned to Alick, took in his dirty traveling cloak and sandy blond hair that was in desperate need of a washing and raised one well plucked eyebrow. Alick nearly lost his nerve at the dismissive look, but one thought of the Templars from the tavern and he straightened his shoulders and looked the man in the eyes. “I’m looking to buy passage on your ship.” “Is that so my young friend” the sailor spoke with a thick Orlesian accent.
“Yes.” The Orlesian eyed him sharply, his eyes wandering to Alick’s chest and lingered there for a moment. “And why does such a fresh faced youth seek passage on my very humble vessel, hmm?”
“Visiting relatives in Rivain.”
“Alone?”
“I am not a child and fully capable of travelling on my own.” Alick did his best to imitate the hauty tones he’d heard nobles use with merchants in the market pace when he was a child in Ferelden.
“My apologies my young friend. I did not mean to offend. It is just, one can never be too careful when taking guest aboard their ship.”
Again the Orlesian’s eyes fell to Alick’s chest. Alick self-consciously brought his hand up and felt the silver, lyrium infused ring he’d received from the First Enchanter after passing his harrowing. Next to walking around with a staff, this ring would mark him as a mage to anyone who recognized what it was. He hastily shoved it inside his tunic.
“I understand. My name is Alick from and I’m from Bredon outside of Highever. My family are merchants and I am travelling to Dairsmuid to visit my uncle who has set up a shop in the city. I give you my word I mean you and your crew no harm.”
The dark-haired Orlesian studied Alick for a long moment before smiling brightly. “I believe you my friend! Welcome aboard the Lady Sanguine. My name is Marcel and I am the Captain of this wonderful vessel. Come, come! We can discuss payment on deck.”
Alick was taken aback by the man’s sudden enthusiasm, but he was too anxious to get out of Aynor to hesitate. As Alick walked carefully up the gangplank he paused a moment and looked back over the city. He imagined he could see Kirkwall in the distance. He wondered what his brother was doing now. Probably cleaning chamber pots, he thought sourly. With a final nod he whispered softly “goodbye brother. And thank you” then, turning around, he boarded the ship.