Chapter Text
9:22 Dragon
Honnleath, the Arling of Redcliffe, Ferelden
“I’m fine, Mother,” Cullen protested, laughing and handing a fourth wedge of cheese off to Rosie behind his back. “Redcliffe is only three days’ journey. We’ve all been more than once, and Ser Eoghan will be with me the entire rest of the way to Edgehall.”
“If vermin get into your pack,” Mother started, twisting her hands together.
“I’ll strangle them and skin them and make them into a hat for the winter,” Cullen promised. He folded his arms around Mother and stooped to kiss her cheek. She cupped his face and combed his hair back with her fingers. Her eyes were teary.
“You’re sure you can’t stay one more night?”
“You’d spin ‘one more night’ into the summer if you could, Mum,” he told her. “It’s time I made my own way.”
She squeezed him tight once more, then finally let him go. “I suppose, but I don’t have to like it. Well. On with you, then.” She slapped his shoulder with her wooden spoon, and Cullen smiled at her. Rosie came up to take Mother’s place.
“I won’t miss you spoiling all the fun around here, brother,” she announced. She pulled a face. “The mages can have you.” She reached up and ruffled his hair, then gripped it between her fingers, pulling a little, and stepped up on tiptoe to kiss him in her turn.
“I’ll pray for you, Rosie,” Cullen said, grinning. Rosie stuck her tongue out at him, but she grinned back.
“Well, come on, then!” Branson said from where he stood in the door with Father and Mia. “You’re losing daylight.” Lady, sensing a stroll in the offing, began jumping and frolicking around everyone’s feet, tail wagging furiously. She barked three times, as good as demanding they take her too. Cullen smiled wider.
“Shht,” Father told the puppy. “Quiet, girl! You can come, but mind your manners.”
Lady whined and looked up at Father with beseeching eyes, but she stopped jumping. Cullen walked over to the door and reached down to stroke her soft ears. He looked back at the house, at Mother’s chair by the hearth, the spinning wheel and the table and the herbs and vegetables hanging from the ceiling, at the door that led to the room where he had slept with his brother and sisters for as long as he could remember. He was excited to finally be leaving, but now that it came to it, he was sorry too.
Mother caught his gaze, and kissed her fingers at him, and with a last wave at her and Rosie, Cullen followed Father, Branson, and Mia out the door.
Branson came only as far as the sheep pen. The sun was rising over the hills, and it was time the flock went out to pasture. Ceres rose from her watch to greet him by the gate, and Branson clasped Cullen’s arm and embraced him. “Go well, hero. Kill some demons for us, all right?”
Cullen wondered if he would have to someday. He hoped not, though he supposed it was part of a Templar’s job description. He hugged Branson hard. “Maker turn his face upon you, Bran. Write if Briony ever gives in. I’ll get leave for your wedding.”
Bran released him, held him at arms’ length a moment, then winked. Then he was turning away, staff in hand, to open up the pen and start his day, whistling just like usual.
Cullen was left with Father and Mia and the pup to walk to the town borders. None of them said much as they walked, but Father let him call Lady to come and walk beside him, and on his other side, Mia hooked her arm through his.
Around them, Honnleath was beginning to stir as other farmers and herders got up to do their own work. When they saw Cullen with his pack and walking stick, some of them waved and called out their good wishes. Some of them pretended they hadn’t seen him and said nothing. One or two of the nastier ones jeered. “Off to the Tower now, Brother Cullen?” Lilah sneered. She threw the contents of her morning chamberpot farther than she really needed to. Though they still fell far short of where Cullen and his family were walking, the meaning of the gesture was clear enough. “Good riddance! Why don’t you go with him, Titus, and free us of the pair of you in the bargain?”
“And miss hearing your lovely voice every day, ma’am? I could never,” Father answered, bowing.
Lilah scoffed. “You’ll wash out, hero!” she called after Cullen as he and his family left her behind. Cullen held his head up and kept walking. When Bran called him that, it was a compliment, even if he was joking too. Lilah . . . didn’t mean it that way, but he’d given up arguing with her years ago. “Most Templars know mages are the enemy!”
Mia gripped his arm all the tighter. She shook her head and murmured, “She’s never forgiven us for Matthias.”
“Me and Father, you mean,” Cullen replied. “Don’t worry, Mia. I won’t make much of a Templar if I can’t shrug off a few insults.”
They were coming to the edge of the village. Mia stopped and turned. She hugged him hard. “Be careful, Cully,” she whispered. “Maker, I’m going to miss you. Promise you’ll write.”
Cullen hesitated. Writing had never been his strong suit. Mother and the Sisters at the Chantry had both despaired over his spelling and penmanship. Ser Eoghan and the other Templars he had met as a boy had mentioned something about an education, so he was fairly sure he would be expected to improve in that respect, but he didn’t know what kind of access Templar recruits would have to pen and paper beyond that, or if he would be paid enough to buy them himself. Come to think of it, he didn’t know if he would be paid, past room and board. He didn’t want to make promises to Mia that he couldn’t keep.
Mia caught his reluctance. She pushed him out to arm’s length, just like Bran. “Promise,” she repeated. “Odds are we’ll never see you again, except for short visits, maybe years apart. I don’t want to lose you, Cully.”
Cullen swallowed and hugged his elder sister again. “You won’t,” he promised. “I—I’ll try. I’ll find a way to write. Maybe not as often as you want, but I’ll do it.”
“You better,” Mia sniffed. She grabbed his head in both of her hands and dragged him down to kiss his forehead before releasing him. “I have to go, or I’ll break down bawling. Maker be with you, brother. Always. I love you.”
Cullen couldn’t answer for a moment. “I love you too,” he managed finally. Mia looked at him one more time, then nodded several times, turned away, and started walking back toward the house very quickly. He saw her shoulders start shaking before she was fifty feet away, and he knelt down by Lady to hug her.
She permitted it, washing his chin with her tongue, and Father put a hand on his shoulder. “She’s right, you know,” he said. “This isn’t the path any of us would have chosen for you, son. Your mother will be grieving your going a long time. So will Mia. So will I.” Cullen looked up at Father. He was staring down the road toward Redcliffe. Maybe he found it easier that way. “But it wasn’t our path to choose,” Father finished, “and don’t you think for a moment that our grief makes us any less proud of you. I’m proud of you.” He squeezed Cullen’s shoulder, and then let go to swing a bundle down from his shoulder. “I want you to have this.”
He handed the bundle to Cullen, and Cullen unwrapped it, pushing the string and cloth aside to see an infantry short sword. Both the leather wrapped around the unadorned hilt and the leather of the scabbard were old and well-worn, but they were supple and well-cared for, and the leather of the hilt was stained besides. Cullen stood, ruffling Lady’s ears with his free hand as he did so. He drew the sword out from its scabbard. Metal slid on metal in the quiet of the village in early morning, and the gray light of dawn reflected off the iron blade.
“It was mine,” Father said, “back when I fought for King Maric in the resistance. They—they’ll probably have better blades for you in the Templars, but no one should travel unarmed. I want you to have it.”
Cullen couldn’t think of anything to say. He sheathed the sword, belted it to his waist, and threw himself at his father. Father caught him. “Go,” he said. “Go with my blessing. You’re losing daylight.”
Cullen nodded, squeezed Father one last time, swallowed hard, and turned toward the road to Redcliffe. Lady barked twice behind him before Father shushed her, but Cullen didn’t look back.