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Tweak says, "BOOYAKA!"

d_gallagher (d_gallagher) wrote in thebattleage,
@ 2011-05-15 02:00:00

Entry tags:

! complete, (thread), declan gallagher, emil asmundr

Thread: Guarding Silence
Who: Declan Gallagher, Emil Asmundr
Where: Vigil's Keep
When: 1 Solis
Summary: Dec is keeping watch in a quiet, uneventful corner of the Keep when one of the new Warden transfers stumbles upon him.
Rating: PG

Declan enjoyed being a guard at Vigil's Keep. He'd been honored to spend the last five years in the service of the Warden Commander, protecting those who lived and worked within the Keep while still granting aid to the nearby city of Amaranthine. After all, that was still his home. He enjoyed the quiet patrols at night, the training sessions during the day with the other guards. Sometimes the Warden Commander or one of the other Wardens would be present. Sometimes he would get to test his mettle against those who were warriors of legend. He felt honored for the mere chance to serve. He often wondered what it would be like to be a member of the Order, to be enfolded within an privileged brotherhood of fighters.

Today he was assigned to the battlements for his first watch, or more particularly a tower near the southeast wall. A boring job it could be, since this particular tower overlooked the cliffs below, that no fool would dare to scale in an assault. Still, it was important that it be patrolled the same as any other part of the Keep. And so Declan would spent a good amount of time pacing the top of the tower, scanning from the high windows and to the Keep down below. In the distance the tournament was going on, but he couldn't see any of the action from here. He heard the occasional cheer, the faint sound of metal ringing as sword struck.

After pacing the large room at the top he'd take the winding staircase down, patrol the outer perimeter of the tower and then go back up the steps to begin again. It was a boring and repetitive job, and Dec much preferred the days when he walked the battlements near the front gate or patrolled the grounds to mingle with the workers and visitors. He almost, almost preferred the days he was stuck in the Keep's throne room, the place where the Seneschal and the Warden Commander would hear complaints from all the nobles who paid tribute to Amaranthine. He had a hard time not rolling his eyes every time one of those stuffed shirts whined about where their money was being spent, or demanded something from the Warden Commander. As if he did not have enough to contend with. That was insufferable, but at least it wasn't boring.

When Dec alighted the last step to the top once more he sighed and leaned his forearms against the edge of one of the open windows, staring out at the city beyond the Keep's walls.

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asmundr
2011-05-20 09:39 am UTC (link)

Frowning, Emil wasn't sure if he understood the man correctly or if his grasp on the language was slipping. He had learned Fereldan the way he had every other language he spoke, by listening and conversing with foreign Wardens stationed in his homeland. While most of them managed to grasp the language of the Anders, Emil valued clear communication too much to not learn something of their tongue as well. While he never spoke for long, he disliked not understanding what people around him were saying. He hesitated only a moment, and then replied as he had understood Gallagher.

"How can I wish for anything better for my sons than taking part in the war against the darkspawn?" he asked, turning his head to look at the guard next to him. "My father worked for that future and I have too, and so will every generation of Asmundrs until we are released from our plight."

Emil listened silently to the description of the sufferings of the Fereldan people. He was not convinced, but neither was he very prone to bitterness. The sufferings of his own people was not comparable to that of any other country, whatever they thought. They could not understand how land and people suffered during wave and wave after darkspawn. While Ferelden might have rallied together and defeated one Blight in record time - and while Emil was not prone to bitter thoughts, that thought did sting - they had not lived for centuries of the constant threat of the black demons.

Since he had turned his face eyes away again, Emil missed the look on Gallaghers face, not knowing how it echoed the sadness in his own eyes. Sol was his pride and joy and while he was immensely proud of her, the thought of her death made his heart heavier than he could bear.
"She will try," he replied. "Her elder brothers are the ones promised to the order, but Sol wants to chose the same path."
And he would let her, because he knew what she wanted. He had sought the same things when he was younger; glory and honour and a way to serve. He wouldn't begrudge his darling child that, even though her choice was harder than her brothers. While they had been destined for the Wardens since birth, the next generation of Asmundrs taking their rightful place, Sol was free to choose. But she seemed inclined to want that which would not be hers as easily. Her brothers had gained entrance based on their blood and words on a centuries old contract. Sol would have to compete with dozens of others.
Her father didn't doubt her worthiness, only his own strength.

Face set, eyes on the horizon, Emil remained silent, having no words left for the guards niece or even the hope for himself. He prayed and he bore his burdens, and he knew no other way to do it. While he could understand that hope was the friend of a lone man, he saw it mostly as a weakness. If he hoped, all his mind and heart would be focused on that, on the loved ones far away, on that piece of land that his heart never stopped yearning for.
So he would not hope, only pray.

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