It had only taken Quintus less than an hour to pack all of his belongings. He sat ready the whole day before departure in the room he now shared with Maeve. The man didn’t go to the presentation on darkspawn. He didn’t find it necessary. They weren’t going to say anything he didn’t already know. Instead, Quintus passed the time sorting through large stacks of documents that he had brought with him. A small amount of time was also dedicated to telling Maeve she should go back to Denerim instead of traveling to find Darrian. While he worried for the boy, it was a hopeless cause to just wander Ferelden in hopes of finding the elf.
When the day to depart finally arrived, Quintus was prepared. He no longer wore the dirty clothing he had been wearing for the past week. Instead, the older man donned a set of light armor. The armor fit his body well, making it clear that despite his age he still had a lithe, muscular figure. Though in Quintus’s opinion, there were too many buckles and snaps, but Wade had assured him that it made the armor more efficient. Quintus didn’t believe him, but he wore the leather-drakeskin hybrid armor with the wide assortment of straps and buckles anyways.
As they traveled, he kept attentive to his surroundings. It had been years since he last marched with an official group in hopes of battle. It was energizing to be marching in the name of the Grey Wardens and he felt at least ten years younger already. He only took a few drinks from his flask during the day. It wasn’t even in an attempt to muddle his thoughts, but simply to keep a headache at bay.
When the group decided to set up camp, Quintus stayed silent. He thought they should continue moving on, but he knew humans weren’t the type to travel in the night. As the group moved about, setting up tents and preparing food, Quintus pulled out a rather heavy pack that was part of his belongings. Inside was an assortment of pastries that he had made a day or so before. He sat at the fire, holding the pack at his side and glancing between the people already sitting there. The man shifted on his seat and glanced up as the only other elf asked about his tent assignment. Quintus shrugged. He wasn’t sure exactly how the tents were being split up and had failed to ask himself. Fiddling with the string that held the pack of pastries shut, Quintus watched the group interact.