Chapter Text
Following the map found in Brother Genitivi’s journal, the group left the outskirts of Ostagar early the next day. They were led by Sereda, who had to continuously ask Alistair where they were.
By late in the afternoon, the group had found a worn dirt path beside a creek, leading west up a mountain.
Sereda points at the path. “We go here.”
“You sure?” Phyrra asks.
No, she’s not.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
But Seredas is already walking up the track of the mountain. “Let's just go!”
Phyrra sighs. “She's going to get us killed.”
Leliana, standing beside her, giggles. She gives her a soft pat on the back, suggesting, “think of it as a little adventure!” Before walking off herself.
Phyrra looks down at Barkspawn, who tilts his head, gives her an encouraging ‘Bark!', and runs after Sereda.
Phyrra sighs, again, and follows them too.
As they continued onward, the creek became wider and more river-like. It was again a pleasant day despite being so close to winter. The water was bubbling over the rocks, the wind was blowing through the tree’s bare branches, and the few birds were chirping sweet tunes. Yet, the trail had continued even higher until the creek was now a fast-flowing river, forming rapids and small waterfalls over large rocks.
Alistair was beside Sereda once again, and she watched him look over her at the river to their right with a curious expression. He stared at it for a moment, then looked to her.
“I've been meaning to ask, how’s your arm doing?”
Sereda smiles slightly, looking to her left arm that was thankfully out of its sling, but still without heavy armor.
“Wynne’s being cautious. It doesn't hurt or bleed anymore, but the bite was so deep she wants to be extra sure the muscles were not injured.”
“Good. I imagine it would be quite inconvenient for one of the last Wardens of Ferelden to have to learn how to use a two-handed sword because she couldn't lift a shield anymore.”
He smiles at his joke, but Sereda still grimaces at the thought. She doesn't have to learn a new fighting style though, so she pushes it out of her head and asks her own question.
“What made you ask? I saw you look at the river, but I don't see how that relates to my arm.”
She smiles as Alistair starts to blush, avoiding her eyes and fumbling over his words.
“Well- I, uh, was looking at it- obviously- and thought ‘Wow, that river sure is strong! And then my mind started to think about other strong things- and people- so…”
Sereda’s smile turns mischievous.
“Does that mean you're complimenting me?”
Alistair lets out a breath of air, exasperated. “Yes… yes, I suppose I am.”
Sereda’s smile deepened, letting the admission hang in the air as she pretended to think.
“Which do you think would sweep you off your feet better? Me, or the river?”
Alistair blinked in surprise. “I, uh… would like to figure that out sometime.”
Sereda broke her self-imposed character and laughed, only to hear exaggerated gagging sounds and another fit of laughter from behind them.
Sereda turned as she continued walking, watching as Phyrra shook her head, shut her eyes, and stuck her tongue out of her open mouth, yelling “GROSS!”
Alistair chuffed. “What?”
“You two!” She explained, “you're both so lovey-dovey it's disgusting!!”
“Yeah!” Leliana chuckled, “at least wait till you're at camp in a tent!” The woman fell into another fit of laughter as Sereda and Alistair both rolled their eyes.
Sereda smiled though, calling back, “I know you love me, Phyrra! Deep down in that heart of yours I know there's a spot just for me!” She turned back around after speaking, letting Phyrra’s denials fall on deaf ears, but still slow enough to watch the elf turn red.
“No, I don't! That's-you-?! EW!”
From the new wave of laughter, Sereda could imagine Phyrra continuing to make adamant denials in the form of body movements, but returned her focus to just her and Alistair.
They walked in silence for a moment, letting the interruption settle, until Sereda glanced at Alistair.
“You can still hold it, you know.”
Alistair looked down at her in confusion. “Hold… what?”
“My hand.”
At the words, she took hold of Alistair’s right hand with her left, continuing to look up the path ahead. Alistair mumbled embarrassedly beside her, and again silence fell for a short moment. Their joined hands hung between them, swinging now and then with their steps, and Sereda felt the same kind of peace from the night before.
“...Sereda?”
“Yes?”
“You love me more than Phyrra, right?”
“Of course, silly. Just because she and I are mabari-married doesn't mean she gets authority over you.”
Alistair laughed. “Right! Mabari-married! Maker, I can't believe I forgot that one!”
Barkspawn barked from somewhere in the forest on their left, and they both laughed.
A few hours later, the perfect sunny day seemed to end when dark clouds flooded the sky and snow began to fall. It abruptly became cold, and on top of that, the dirt trail abruptly ended. Sereda looked up at Alistar, who shrugged, just as lost as she was.
After a moment of looking, Sereda managed to find a very small footpath leading further into the forest. Here, the group decided to split up. Sereda, Alistair, Phyrra, and Sten would travel further along and hopefully find Haven, meanwhile, everyone else would set up camp. If they were not back give or take a day, they were probably dead.
The now smaller group walked further up the road for a few minutes. Phyrra is the first to spot a lone soldier standing guard at the… end of a road?
He sees the group in return and his eyes widen in surprise. “What are you doing here?” he barks at them, “There is nothing for you here!”
“Is this Haven?” Sereda asks.
“So, what if it is?You don’t belong here.”
Phyrra scoffs, already annoyed. “Is that how you greet guests to your village?”
“We don’t appreciate lowlanders poking around… looking at us as though we were some kind of zoo.”
Sereda puts a hand on her arm. Phyrra grumbles before talking again, more politely this time, “We came here seeking the Urn of Sacred Ashes.”
“The Urn is nothing but a legend.”
“Brother Genetivi’s research suggests that it may be more than that.”
“I do not know who this ‘Brother Genetivi’ is, or what he says. People can convince themselves of almost anything,” the guard replies.
“You don’t know if Brother Genetivi came here?”
“No,” He shrugs. “Perhaps Revered Father Eirik will know of whom you speak. Unfortunately, he is ministering at this moment, and cannot be disturbed.”
“Revered Father?” Alistar asks, surprised. “I have never heard of this.”
“It has always been thus in Haven. We do not question tradition.”
“Are your traditions very different from ours?” He continues.
The guard sneers. “Our ways are not the ways of the lowland cities. Why do you care?”
“Do you mind if we just ask a few more questions?”
He grunts. “Make it quick.”
“Why have I never heard of this village before?”
“We keep to ourselves,” he simply says. “We’ve seen no need to announce our presence to the world. Keeps things more peaceful that way.”
“How long has Haven been here?”
He sighs. “Haven has always been here. My family knows no other home.”
“Is there somewhere we can shop and trade?” Sereda now asks.
“Yes, we have a shop in town. After you are done there, I suggest you return from whence you came. Haven is not for you.”
The guard watches them closely as they walk up the road towards the village. Sereda feels goosebumps forming on her arms. She's confused at first but realizes it's because of the eerie silence.
There's no villagers bustling about, no shopkeepers or merchants trying to sell their wares outside. It looks deserted. All until Sereda and the others notice a lone child standing in front of a house, reciting a strange rhyme. As they get closer, the rhyme becomes clearer.
“Come, come, bonny Lynne; tell us, tell us where you’ve been. Were you up, were you down, chasing rabbits ‘round the town. Come, come, bonny Lynne; tell us, tell us where you’ve been. Come, come, bonny Lynne; we’ve a bed to put you in.
“It is soft, it is warm, it will shelter from the storm. Come, come, bonny Lynne; we've got a bed to put you in. Dear, dear bonny Lynne sleeps the peaceful crib within. A mossy stone, a finger bone. No one knows but Lynne alone. Dear, dear bonny Lynne sleeps the peaceful crib within…”
The small group approaches the child, and he stops.
“Who are you? You shouldn’t be here.”
Gently, Sereda asks, “Who are you, little boy?”
He frowns. “I asked you first.”
“My name is Sereda.”
“Lowlanders don’t belong here,” he states, eyes narrowing with distrust. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You seem like a clever child. What do you know about Haven?”
He shrugs. “It’s just Haven.” He then runs off.
Sereda and the others watch him until he disappears from view. Without a word, they all head uphill to another part of town. Phyrra sees the shop and they go in.
Upon entering, the shopkeeper immediately asks, “Who are you? You’re not from Haven.”
Exasperated, Phyrra retorts, “Why does everyone here tell me that like I don’t already know it?!”
The shop owner’s taken aback. “We, uh, just don’t get many visitors here… that’s all.”
“Phyrra,” Sereda interrupts, “try to be more friendly.”
Phyrra crosses her arms, “...Right.”
“Can you tell us anything about this town?” Alistair asks.
The shopkeeper shrugs. “Not really. I’ve lived here all my life. It’s just Haven.”
“Have you heard of, or seen Brother Genetivi?”
“No,” he replies, a little too quickly.
Alistar sighs. “May we see your wares?”
He has some armor and weapons, but nothing that would help them out. But, he does have a pair of Antivan leather boots; an odd item for such a secluded town. Sereda remembers her and Zevran's conversation a few days back. She buys them.
They leave the shop and continue through the village. Atop a steep hill is a Chantry. That must be where the Revered Father is.
As they walk up the hill, Sten begins to complain in his Sten-like way. “Interesting strategy. Tell me; do you intend to keep going north until it becomes south, and attack the archdemon from the rear?”
Sereda stops walking, and turns to face up at Sten. “It’ll never see it coming,” she smirks.
Sten is not amused. “It seemed to me as though we were in the midst of aimlessly climbing a mountain in the middle of nowhere.”
“What do you want, exactly?”
“Reason. The Archdemon is our goal. And we are healing away from it. To find the charred remains of a dead woman. I will not simply follow in your shadow as you run from battle.”
“I'm not running! We need Arl Eamon's alliance!” She gestures around her to the town, “And it just so happens, we need to be here! He has an army, no way are we going to be able to face the Archedemon alone! ”
Sten looks down at her, and frowns. “Then we better hurry.’
Sereda sighs, shaking her head and muttering a curse under his breath before continuing to the Chantry.
Entering the Chantry building, they quickly notice all of the villagers inside. The Father’s preaching, at the stand. They begin to walk down the aisle, but halfway down they stop, listening.
“We are blessed beyond measure; we are chosen by the Holy and Beloved to be Her guardians. This sacred duty was given to us alone. Rejoice, my brethren, and prepare your hearts to receive Her. Lift up your voices, and despair not, for She will raise Her faithful servants to glory when Her–” He stops when he finally sees them standing there. Upon being noticed, they unfreeze and walk the rest of the way up.
“I understand that you are new here, but common courtesy dictates that one should not interrupt,” the Father states, sounding annoyed. His eyes looked at them with disdain and malice. “No matter, we were just about done here anyway.”
A villager woman walks forward, panic in her tone. “But your reverence, we have not completed the Sacraments of the Holy Mother or- or sung the Invocation-”
He holds out his hand and she falls silent. “Be calm, Nuda. We have honored guests. Surely the Sacraments can wait.” He glances at the group. “That is all for today, my children. I shall see you tomorrow, for now, I should see to our visitors.”
Only when the common villagers leave, with only soldiers left in the Chantry, does the Father acknowledge them.
“There was no need to end the sermon.” Sereda says.
“No, no,” he shakes his hands. “It's better this way, many of the villagers are uncomfortable in the presence of strangers.”
“Is Brother Genitivi here?” Phyrra asks, cutting right to the chase.
“We find outsiders…disruptive. They bring others, and before long, Haven is hanged. We will go to any lengths to prevent that.” He walks slightly away towards the group, before reaching for his staff. The soldiers meanwhile, raise their swords. “You understand a man's need to protect his family,” he asks, turning his head to look at them, “don't you?”
“Brothers!” He cries out, “you know what must be done.”
Sereda barely manages to pull her sword when a guard swings his battle axe at her. Their weapons clash together, and Sereda kicks him away into Alistair's sword that was waiting behind. She begins to chase after the Father.
Meanwhile, Sten and Alistair go after the men armed with blades and Phyrra goes after the archers.
The fighting is quick, the men were not trained- or at least not as well as them. In a matter of minutes, the soldiers were down- with only the Father left standing. Not for long, however, as Phyrra gets behind the man and kills him with a slash of her daggers.
“Hey!” Sereda yells, standing in front of her and the now dead body. “I had him!”
Phyrra cackles.
Sten and Sereda quickly begin to block the doors of the Chantry to prevent any villagers from coming in and attacking, and once that's done, the group searches the building. There's a backroom, filled with a few chests but nothing noteworthy. They begin to think they perhaps came here for nothing.
But then a faint voice calls out from within… somewhere.
Following the sound, the group is faced with a brick wall. Sereda reaches out with her good arm, touches it, and it slides open. She bounces back in surprise as a small room is revealed. Lying inside, on the floor, is a man. They quickly walk to him.
“W-who are you?” He coughs weakly, “Did they send you to… finish it?”
“Brother Genitivi?” Sereda asks, “I am Sereda. I am here to help you.” The man, Brother Genitivi, breathes a sigh of relief as she helps him sit up.
Sereda continues, “I read your notes back in Denerim. Have you found the Urn of Sacred Ashes?”
“They’ve taken great pains to keep it well hidden.” He suddenly groans in pain. “M-my leg isn’t doing so well, and I can’t feel my foot.”
“I have some bandages in my pack.” Phyrra crouches down beside him and gets them out, beginning to wrap his leg and foot. If only they brought Wynne, she could have casted a healing spell to ease some of his pain.
“You need to rest,” she said. “That will take some time to heal properly.”
“Ah, thank you. That feels much better. But I can’t rest now! Not when I am so close! The Urn is just up the mountain… inside the temple.”
“I need to find the Ashes. Arl Eamon is getting sicker by the day,” Sereda states.
“The Arl is sick? How did this happen?”
Alistair scowls. “He was poisoned under Teryn Loghain’s orders.”
Genetivi shakes his head sadly. “Politics. Never did anyone any good. The Arl is a noble soul. The Ashes… the Ashes will surely cure him.
“Haven lies in the shadow of the mountains that holds the Urn. There is an old temple there, built to protect it.” He explains. “The door is locked, But I know what the key is. Eirik- the ‘Father’- wears a medallion that will open the temple door.”
“Sten?” Sereda turns her head.
Sten grunts in reply and walks back out to the main part of the Chantry, quickly searching Eirik’s body. Sure enough, there's a small bronze medal around his neck. Sten grabs it and yanks it off of him. Bringing it back to Sereda who then shows it to Genetivi.
“Is this it?”
He nods.
“Were you aware that the Knights of Redcliffe had been looking for you?” Phyrra asks.
He sighs. “Yes. of course. How could I forget? Erick said they were ambushed, some killed. A few were brought back to Haven for questioning. He was so self-righteous about it, so smug. He seemed pleased that he had tortured and murdered those men.
Darkly, Phyrra remarks, “Erick won't be hurting anyone any longer.”
“Good. Erick and his fellows were a blemish in the Makers sight. If the Maker would even deign to look upon this world, that is…”
He sighs. “Let's just… move onto something else. Shall we?”
“Brother, I think you should know what had happened to Weylon…” Sereda begins.
“Weylon?” He frowns,“What happened?”
“They had him killed; and placed an imposter in his place.”
Genetivi quickly seemed on the verge of tears. “Oh, poor Weylon. I should have never dragged him into this mess. Maker take you into His hands, my boy.”
“He died protecting your research. He was very brave.”
“He believed in me even when I lost faith in myself.” He sighed. “I will need to honor his memory once I get back to Denerim.”
“I killed the bastard,” she says. “Who killed him.”
“...Thank you.”
“We should go to the temple now,” Sten points out.
Sereda nods.
“Ah, good. Help me up here. I'll try not to slow you down.” Sereda helps him up, wrapping an arm firmly across his waist.
“Can you walk?” She asks.
“I'll be okay.” He hisses as he takes his first step, “any pain would be worth seeing Andraste- or her ashes, at least.”
“Let's go.”
