Shadows over Nevarra: The Grand Tourney (In progress)

(In collaboration with Space Cowboy on the dwarf confrontation)

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Rainer Aehrenthal was supremely self-satisfied by the success of his venture thus far as he took his place in the Royal Box alongside Prince Ferdinand and his guest for the Opening Ceremony, a rather attractive young lady with an accent that suggested she was not a native of Nevarra. Rainer made a mental note to do some background checks on her to discover whether she had connections worth cultivating other than that of Prince Ferdinand. Beyond Ferdinand, on the other side of the box from Rainer, were Duke Sandral Anaxas and his family. Rainer took pleasure in reflecting that he was now mixing with the highest echelons of Nevarran society.

The stadium had been filling up since early morning. Rainer was confident in asserting that it was the largest of its type outside of Tevinter. Fully twenty thousand people could be accommodated at full capacity. The best seats were those in the private boxes that had been hired for the duration of the Tourney by various noble families both from within Nevarra and further afield. The largest and most expensive of these were adjacent to the Royal Box and had been claimed by Grand Enchanter Vivienne and Divine Victoria respectively. The latter whilst not present in person had sent a message of endorsement for the proceedings and had instructed that foreign dignitaries attending the event should be entertained as her honoured guests. Currently a small contingent of Qunari diplomats were availing themselves of her hospitality, which had raised a few eyebrows as they were ushered into the box to join the other occupants.

The private boxes formed a tier at first floor level around the entirety of the stadium. This would grant the occupants the best view of proceedings, neither too close to be troubled by dust and the stench of battle nor too far to feel intimately involved in the action. Two more tiers of seats rose above these to accommodate less illustrious spectators, the cost of them reducing the further they were from the floor of the arena. Immediately above the noble boxes was the area occupied by the merchant and artisan classes. Whilst not having the exclusivity of the noble boxes, the seats were padded and there was a canopy to protect the occupants from the elements. At the top were literally the cheapest seats, which were little more than rough benches that might even leave splinters if skin was insufficiently protected and with no protection afforded from sun, wind or rain. Even so, the design was such that sound would be amplified to a degree so they could still enjoy every groan, grunt and scream of the participants. It was not possible to reserve seats so it was first come first served when it came to securing the best positions and people had been arriving from early morning to get the best view of the event. At ground level was an area for standing room only where the poorest citizens could purchase entry for a few coppers and then hope to find a vantage point along the perimeter of the arena itself among the workers at the event.

Throughout the morning entertainment had been provided by various street entertainers in order to ensure those already seated did not become restive. Food vendors had also passed up and down the walkways between blocks of seats offering refreshments. It was now a couple of hours after noon when his son, Typhon, took up his position on the podium in the centre of the arena as Master of Ceremonies. Rainer could see him arranging the various prompt cards on the lectern in front on him with the official statement by each team about their participation and his own comments, written in collaboration with his father. This was to be his contribution to the spectacle on behalf of their family and he was determined to make a good impression. His father had suggested the idea after his sister Gabrielle had insisted upon actually taking part in the event. He always tended to feel left in the shade by his beautiful, talented sister and Rainer understood his need to find something at which he could also excel and draw the admiration of the crowds. Typhon had always fancied himself as something of an actor and had received tuition in public speaking, so now was his moment to shine. Alongside him Sabina Barbus and her pianist awaited their moment in proceedings.

Typhon glanced across to where his father sat and Rainer gave the signal to indicate that he should begin. Typhon nodded to the leader of the band and they struck up a fanfare of trumpets to silence the crowds as a prelude to his opening speech. As the echoes died away, the crowd waited expectantly for him to begin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, who have travelled to be with us today from near and from far, on behalf of our beloved King Marcus Pentaghast of Nevarra, his brother Prince Ferdinand, Duke Sandral Anaxas of Cumberland and our noble sponsor, Rainer Aehrenthal, welcome to the Grand Tourney.”

He gave a pause for effect and was rewarded by cheers and applause. Once the sound had subsided, he continued.

“For the first time this event incorporates a team element, as suggested by Divine Victoria, to foster closer bonds between nations by encouraging a spirit of friendly competition and indulging in contests of martial skill against one another in the arena rather than on the battlefield. The team with the most overall points in the competition will be rewarded with an ancient artefact, the Anvil-breaker.”

Exclamations of wonder and approval could be heard around the arena, followed by another burst of applause. Rainer reflected that the individuals hired to generate excitement in the crowd were earning their fee.

“Therefore I invite you to show your appreciation for those taking part on behalf of their national teams as we begin the parade of nations.”

A spontaneous cheer went up and the band began a rousing marching tune as the first team entered the arena.

“The teams are parading in alphabetical order with the arms and standard of the country to the fore and so I give to you the Anderfels.”

There was spontaneous applause and Typhon paused in his speech briefly before continuing:

“You will note a number of competitors in the uniform of the Grey Wardens who have lent their aid to the efforts of the nation with whom they have such close bond. The First Warden felt that it was appropriate to drop their injunction not to become involved with the affairs of individual nations in view of the sentiments behind the team competition. This also accounts for the twinned coat of arms of the Anderfels nation and the two headed griffon of the Wardens.”

Rainer suspected that the First Warden was hoping to use the event as a recruitment drive and also to counter some of the bad feeling that still existed over the actions of the Orlesian Wardens with respect to Corypheus but that information was to be left for their representative to disclose at the Grand Reception should they wish to do so. As the team from the Anderfels moved down the far side of the arena, the next team began its entry and Typhon announced:

“The combined team of Antiva and Rivain. These two smaller nations felt it expedient to join their forces for this event in view of their differing areas of expertise. Once again you can see the contestants displaying the twinned coat of arms of the two nations who have combined for the team event.”

There were further cheers and applause from the crowd, particularly those supporters from the nations currently being celebrated. The Rivaini could particularly be identified by their dusky skins and colourful costumes.

“Representatives from the clans of the Avvar.”

Genuine curiosity was expressed by the crowd as the barbarians circled the arena dressed in their primitive outfits of animal skins and simple linen embroidered with strange symbols and nature totems.

“The City States of the Freemarches. As everyone knows the Freemarches is a region not a nation, comprised of many states, each with their own traditions and culture. However, one thing held true in the past, that they will come together to face a common enemy, and now they unite once again to compete against the larger nations that face them for the glory and benefit of them all. As you can see, their flag bears the symbols of Ansburg, Hasmal, Hercinia, Kirkwall, Markham, Ostwick, Starkhaven and Wycome, all proud of their heritage in being founders of the Tourney tradition that is celebrated in these games.”

More enthusiastic cheering from the crowd and reciprocal waving of the contestants, particularly as they spotted elements of their own supporters. So far it seemed to Rainer that everyone was getting into the spirit of things and keeping the mood suitably festive.

“The Kingdom of Ferelden. King Alistair and Queen Anora send their apologies they will not be attending in person owing to the recent joyful arrival of the heir to the throne but send their best wishes to those competing on behalf of their nation.”

There was a great deal of cheering at this announcement. Rainer reflected that the Orlesians might not be so pleased to hear that the monarchs had finally managed to safeguard the line of Calenhad for the future. As the contestants from Ferelden marched past the Royal Box his eye was particularly drawn to a rather flamboyantly dressed dwarf, in flowing red robes and what he knew to be a turban, walking alongside a tall figure in gold lined cloak with mask and cowl covering his head and the arms on his chest of a rampant white leopard. He made another mental note to enquire about these two at the Grand Reception.

“Our home team, the Kingdom of Nevarra.”

An enormous roar erupted from the crowd as their representatives circled the arena. Rainer smiled with pride as his daugher Gabrielle blew kisses to the crowd and he noted that she glanced and winked at the tall young man in mage robes who strode at her side. Tylus Anaxas, son of Duke Sandral and following the footsteps of his uncle Viuus in the Mortalitasi. In any other southern nation cultivating the attention of a mage, however noble, would not be considered a way to improve one’s social standing but here in Nevarra mages had always enjoyed greater freedoms and status than anywhere else outside of Tevinter. Rainer felt a degree of satisfaction as he saw the admiring looks that Tylus Anaxas was aiming at his daughter. Gabrielle was clearly aiming high with her current romance.

“The Empire of Orlais.”

The reception for the Orlesian team was somewhat muted, except by their own supporters. Given that the majority of the crowd were natives of Nevarra and the current prickly state of relations between the two nations, such a response was only to be expected. The Orlesian team, the majority of whom were fully fledged Chevaliers, did not seem unduly put out by the lack of enthusiasm for their presence, no doubt feeling that the majority of the crowd were beneath their notice and their opinion was similarly not worth worrying about.

“And finally, for the first time in the history of the Grand Tourney, the representatives of the Kingdom of Orzammar.”

The contrast with the reception given to the Orlesians was marked. The crowd seemed genuinely elated to see the dwarves and there was much cheering as they paraded around the arena. Rainer noted that the dwarves seemed to appreciate the welcome, judging by the muted smiles he could discern behind their beards, although there was less waving to the crowd than with previous teams. Still they were here, reflected Rainer, and that was itself something of a triumph for him.

When the dwarves had finished circling and taken their place standing in line across the arena, there was another blast from the trumpets to silence the crowd, then Typhon continued:

“Unfortunately, Divine Victoria has been unable to grace this event with her presence but has sent the following message of support:

“Wars break out because nations misunderstand each other. We shall not have peace until the prejudices which now separate the different states and races shall have been outlived. To attain this end, what better means than to bring the citizens of all countries periodically together for amicable trials of muscular strength and agility? In the name Maker, I ask that you all take part in these contests respecting and abiding by the rules which govern them, in the true spirit of fair play in which they are held, for the glory of arms and the honour of your teams. After which you may return home having forged new bonds of friendship in good natured competition with your neighbours from across the world. My prayers go with you all.”

There was a short pause, in which much muttering broke the silence, before Typhon continued.

“In keeping with the sentiments of the Divine, Sabina Barbus will now perform, My Love is Gone.”

Typhon drew back and Sabina walked forward but before she could begin there came the blast of a war horn from outsides the arena, followed by the sound of marching feet and the banging of weapons on shields. A new group of warriors appeared at the eastern entrance and gave a collective yell of challenge before advancing into the interior, heading for the Royal Box. Short of stature, it was clear they were dwarves. Most of the spectators assumed it was the tardy arrival of some of the Orzammar contingent, although those who could see the faces of the latter quickly realised that they were as astonished by the newcomers as the rest of those assembled.

Those who were near enough to see them clearly, realised the new dwarves were profoundly different in appearance to those already introduced to them. Shorter, less stocky and paler, with the exception of one individual that walked at the side of their leader, their regalia of completely different style to that of the Orzammar dwarves. The group advanced until they reached their intended destination, immediately in front of Rainer Aehrenthal and their leader called a halt, before declaring:

“I am Lord Lyulf Azaharg of the mighty and ancient dwarf realm of Kal-Sharok.” As a swell of astonishment spread through the crowd that threatened to drown him out, he thundered. “We have braved the Deep Roads long abandoned to represent Sharokovar Thaig at this Proving and to claim the Weaponfather’s hammer for our people.”

Unlike the majority of the inhabitants of the arena, Rainer wasn't in the slightest disturbed or even surprised at their presence. Instead he inclined his head in greeting:

“So glad you could make it.” Then raised his voice and proclaimed. “Please welcome, our last invited team, the dwarves of Kal Sharok.”

A roar of approval travelled around the arena, followed by applause. Except, that is, from the dwarves of Orzammar, several of whom advanced towards the group.

Who are these interlopers?" Roshek, the leader of the Orzammar Dwarven contingent, demanded, "We represent all Dwarva"

"As authorized by King Bhelan. Kal Sharok has no place here." Lord Oerik added heatedly.

Lord Azaharg turned towards them, a sneer of derision on his pale face. “Kal-Sharok has no king; Kal-Sharok needs no king. You have no voice, Orzammar. The Stone has forgotten your name.”

Roshek, and not a few of the other leaders of the Orzammar contingent stood to face the Kal Sharok arrivals.

"You dare! You dare say something like that! You sun-touched gangue infested tezpadam. It's you that has no place here. You are on loose sand if you think you have any chance at that hammer; it belongs in Orzammar!" The last word shouted for all to hear.

Edrick surged forward angrily. “I have valos atredum, rock licker. Can you say as much?”

"The Ancestors have forgotten Kal-Sharok," added Oerik.

The dwarves from Kal-Sharok stared back at them stony faced, only the intensity of their eyes betraying any emotion. The taller dwarf alongside Lord Azaharg whispered something to him and he nodded whilst keeping his gaze on Edrick, before turning his attention back to the two Deshyrs and responding calmly.

"The Stone remembered us even when you did not, as the Ancestors can bear witness. Wim and wam if you must but time is rusting. We shall prove our claim in the arena."

Aehrenthal quickly interjected. “With respect my lords; this place is Kal Repatha outside of the contest. Save your mettle for the conquest of arms.”

Hoping that music could indeed calm the savage breast, with that he signalled to Sabina to continue. “In honour of our gathering, I give to you Sabina Barbus.”

Later that evening Loyalty watched as Ellas departed with Bann Sighard for the Grand Reception and then returned to his own duties. Loyalty had to admit that given the choice he would have preferred the sort of partnership that Argos had shared with Hyulmir. The bond between hound and warrior was simple and tested whenever they went into battle together. His current test of loyalty was less risky but in some ways more a test of his resolve. Ellas had instructed him to watch over Burren and Issala. This was not unduly taxing since Burren showed no inclination to get himself into a confrontation with anyone and Issala was being careful to avoid placing himself in danger as well. The clinic was closed for the night and Issala relaxing studying his books in his tent, so Argos was currently focussed on guarding Burren.

However, Burren’s current mode of relaxing put a degree of strain on his forbearance. It would seem he had a ritual bath time each evening and his liberal use of scented oils in the water was something that his hound senses found difficult to deal with. Kaddis he could understand but the war paint used by Ash Warriors had an earthy tang to it. Burren’s bath water had an altogether different aroma, although Loyalty had to admit that he would have no trouble locating the dwarf in the dark or among a crowd of people as a result, even at a considerable distance. However, the perfume made him sneeze so he left Burren to his ablutions and lay down on guard just outside the entrance to the bathing tent.

His ears caught the sound of Burren’s name being mentioned. Standing to attention, he looked across in the direction of the voice. An altogether more martially attired dwarf was talking with Ser Jodhri, who was currently on guard duty at the entrance to their compound. He pointed in the direction of the sleeping tent that Burren shared with Ellas, mentioned about bath time and would the stranger care to wait? The dwarf nodded and surrendered his sword and dagger before making his way there.

Loyalty felt that things were looking up as at least he would have something positive to do on behalf of Burren. He padded over silently to the tent and studied the stranger. The visitor seemed ill at ease, almost nervous but not in a way that would suggest he was intending harm to Burren. If anything Loyalty would have judged that the visitor was anxious about the confrontation with Burren because of how the latter might respond to him. Since Loyalty couldn’t think of any reason why someone would be afraid of Burren, he found this something of a puzzle. So he continued to stay on the alert, ready to take action if necessary, as he glimpsed Burren leaving the bathing tent in his newly acquired purple bath robe and making his way towards them.

The strange dwarf had taken up a position on the far side of the tent, so Loyalty made a point of preceding Burren as he entered and then taking up position between the two as the stranger gave his greeting in casual fashion.

“Hello, Saroka.”

“Eddy!” Shocked surprise was evident in his voice, so clearly Burren had not been expecting this visit. “What are you doing here?” That confirmed it. Loyalty also detected a surge of conflicting emotions in Burren, ranging from anger and resentment, through distress and anxiety, to even encompass a degree of longing. Loyalty felt it unwise to take any action based on such a mix of signals.

“Helping Orzammar win back the hammer,” The casual delivery and light-hearted demeanour belied the underlying anxiety on his part. “Didn’t you see me in the parade? I must admit I’m more surprised at seeing you participating in the Tourney.”

“I’m in the horse race.”

“Ah yes, those strange creatures that caused such trouble back in Jader.”

“Cut the small talk, Eddy.” Very abrupt and to the point. “What are you doing here?”

A surprising degree of aggression on Burren’s part indicating that he felt the injured party over something; Loyalty was beginning to understand the anxiety on the part of Eddy. There was definitely no aggression on his part, which seemed to suggest he understood Burren’s attitude and thought it justified. His voice when he spoke was suitably contrite.

“I know what you must think of me and that’s why I had to come. I wanted you to know the truth.”

“That’s what you told me before and I believed you.” Less hostility now on Burren’s part, more an increasing degree of distress as though the memory pained him greatly. “Then you publically confessed it was all a lie and you had deceived me, about everything.”

“I’m sorry, I had to say that, but I didn’t deceive you.”

“Seeing you so close and cosy with the Deshyrs would suggest otherwise.”

Eddy gives a derisive laugh. “Oh that is a very recent development. It seems that my brother has a conscience and wishes to make amends for the way I was treated.” There is a short pause as he takes a deep breath to steady his emotion. “I am Edrick Meino.”

“Then why confess that you weren’t?”

“To save your life.”

Utterly emphatic and matter of fact; Loyalty could tell that the statement was the truth but he was aware that he had the advantage of both spirit and dogs senses. There was a moment of silence as Burren considered this statement, then responded cautiously, clearly still not sure what to think.

“What do you mean?”

“Bhelen approached me in jail and suggested a deal.”

“Hah, mother said you were probably in collusion with him.”

“No, not in the way you think. I imagine your mother was probably the reason he was searching around for a compromise that would keep both her and my father happy. He wanted us both dead, abandoned in the Deep Roads and his secret shame with us. Bhelen said that if I would admit it was all a lie that I had fabricated on my own, he’d ensure you were exiled to the surface and let me join the Legion but on the condition that I would never mention it again. I knew that with her contacts, your mother would see you okay, so I went along with it. That’s the truth, I swear it.”

“You lied for me?” Burren’s voice was subdued and slightly broken, a mixture of wonderment and distress. “But it meant so much to you that the truth should be known.”

“Not at your expense and in the end I realised that your opinion was the only one that mattered. I’ve spent nine years of torment in the Deep Roads knowing how you must have thought I had used you, thinking that I never really cared, but I’m not my father,” Eddy’s voice was gentle, sincere. “Your life was worth more to me than my honour.”

“You did all that for me.” The realisation was starting to overwhelm him. Burren was shaking with emotion, his heart racing and tears were starting to form.

“Yes, I just wanted you to know that.” A sigh, a sense of relief that he had finally unburdened himself; then he turned as if to leave, although Loyalty sensed a reluctance to do so as if hoping for something more from Burren.

“Don’t go.” A sense of urgency rather than a command, then a plea from the heart in softer voice. “Please… stay.”

Eddy turned back and Loyalty was surprised to see tears on the face of the warrior; it was clear emotion was threatening to overwhelm him as well. Then Burren held out his arms to him and the two of them came together in a rush, embraced, then kissed. That was the last that Loyalty saw as he chose tactfully to withdraw. He knew enough of the sort of devotion he could sense between them that he was no longer needed. Taking up his position at the entrance to the tent, he was content to ensure that they were not disturbed.


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Tagging: Space Cowboy ; riverdaleswhiteflash ; phoray ; warden

My next post will be introducing the Grand Reception.

Collab between Phoray; Space Cowboy; and Gervaise

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Sabina had to sidestep, swiftly pulling her longer skirt with her, as the Orlesian barged by.

‘He seems to be making a beeline for Rainer.’ She didn’t envy him. 'But at least I know who the second is now.’

She resumed course. Upon reaching the dwarva group, she gave a deep curtsy to Lord Roshek, then promptly spoke directly to his second, Liha.

“I offer an apology on behalf of Lord Aehrenthal for two things. He was not aware of dwarven protocol and he regrets that. And if I may be so bold to speak on this issue, he also does not condone the actions of the departing chevalier.”

"Thank you, we are glad he is aware of it now." Liha nodded. "My lord is still displeased over the presence of the Kal Sharok dwarves however."

"What's done is done," Roshek spoke up. "We will deal with competition against Kal Sharok the same way we do the other contenders." He looked at Sabina before returning his gaze to Liha. "This surfacer sings well."

“Ahem,” Durk cleared his throat. "What our lord means to say is, your singing was lovely and we appreciate that it eased tensions at the ceremony."

Roshek said nothing to that, but appeared to accept Durk's interpretation.

“Thank you.” She said graciously in response, before continuing. “I noticed earlier your interest in the Qunari. If it were not for the war, they would merely be a curiosity, but alas, their being here bothers rather a lot of guests.”

"We dwarva from Orzammar have not seen Qunari before. We don't find them particularly threatening when compared with the darkspawn pushing at our borders." Liha shrugged.

"We can certainly relate," Durk added, "Given our reaction to Kal Sharok's appearance."

"Quite so," Oerik spoke up. "Surface wars are none of our concern.. until they are."

She had frowned slightly at the mention of darkspawn, but cleared her expression and cocked her head. “It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken with those I know in the Dwarven Houses. How fares Lord Legnan and Lord Altrid in this time of war?”

"Ah yes,Legnar of House Moratin and Altrid of House Kitrik," Oerik replied, addressing Sabina directly. "You have met our Tevinter representatives then?" he asked, curious how the elven woman would know of the Ambassadoria.

“Music has always been appreciated by those with sharp wits. Not surprising, then, that many powerful people have called on me to perform for groups above and below the surface.” She smiled widely before smoothly moving on.

“Another thing both groups have a common interest in is good trade. Have the good merchants here at the party found the time to discuss the problems of the Imperial Highway with you?” She shook her head at herself, not giving them time to respond. “But here I am speaking completely out of turn. For Kerdrik Dunnharg is the one most knowledgeable about such things, together with his wife, and I can’t speak on their behalf. They were hoping to speak with you on this very subject."

"We don't get word from the Ambassadoria as often as we would like, relying on surface communication as we do." Oerik replied. Roshek grunted dismissively, to which Oerk replied,

"Roshek, you know surface contact is important to Bhelan."

Replying to Sabina, Oerik then asked, "Who is this Dunnharg? What is his interest in this, and," he looked at Sabina curiously, "For that matter, what is yours?"

“Mine?” She portrayed innocent surprise at the question. “I merely act as the oil on this occasion. A smooth event means more opportunities to share music with others in the future.”

She paused, looking briefly for those in question. “I can make introductions between you if you so desire. It is Lord Aehrenthal’s sincere wish that you enjoy your time here.”

Oerik looked at Roshek, who replied, "Very well, we will hear this cloud gazer merchant."