(( 3 days after the Chargers return from scouting Haven, 9:41 - Herald's Rest, Skyhold - Sati Adaar ))
Krem had seen a lot of villages wiped off the map during his brief stint with the Tevinter army, but none of it compared to Haven.
He’d been outside talking to Harritt when the templars came. Damned crazed zealots, the lot of them. Dangerous, too. He didn’t know what power that demon or darkspawn or whatever he was had over them, and he didn’t want to find out. All that mattered was getting the people who couldn’t defend themselves to safety.
Krem had made his peace long ago with the fact that his place wasn’t on the front lines of an army’s forces. He was better as a skirmisher, providing support for the bulk of the troops. In the case of Haven, that mostly meant rounding up the Chargers to draw attention off of the Herald and to give those fleeing to the Chantry a safe way to do so.
Hadn’t been for nothing, but the loss was rough on everyone. Those at the top felt it most, sure, but Krem felt it too. He’d mostly avoided the trap of “could’ve, would’ve, should’ve,” but sometimes he wondered what would’ve happened if he’d taken a different route; if he’d fallen back a few minutes later.
Probably be face down in the snow with an arrow or twelve in his back, and that was the nicest fate he could imagine. Especially since he’d seen what happened to others who weren’t so lucky.
Inquisitor Sati had sent the Chargers to scout what was left of Haven, under Commander Cullen’s command. Wasn’t a smile cracked or a laugh on anybody’s lips that day, not even when they’d set up camp for the night. Quietest he’d ever seen the Chargers, save for that time Rocky messed up the powder ratio and knocked almost all of them out cold.
It was all senseless, but that was the cost of war. No way around it except to move forward, and when it came to Bull’s company, that meant lots and lots of mead. Whole casks of it that the big guy had fought for with Lady Montilyet.
They’d gotten back from scouting just a few days past. Krem had given his report, and now he was eager to put it behind him. Lots of work to do, but for tonight he was just content being with the “crazy bunch of assholes” who’d become his family.
Hard not to notice when the Inquisitor came into the Herald’s Rest, though. Harder not to stand immediately like any good soporati addressing his betters. Krem just lifted his mug to his lips and watched her. She might’ve been stopping off to see someone for business; seemed all she did lately was go from one meeting to the next, when she wasn’t off saving the world.
She looked damned tired, though.
“Can’t imagine what that’s like,” he said, leaning back in his chair.
“Having bad songs written about you?” Stitches asked, referencing the minstrel’s current choice.
Didn’t sound half bad to him, but he was a tailor’s son. What did he know about it?
“Having all these people depend on you,” he said. “Seems like she could use a break. One night of peace.”
“You going to give it to her?” Skinner’s tone was deadpan and as hostile as ever, but he’d known her long enough to catch her meaning.
“Sod off,” he said, making a rude gesture at the elven woman which she promptly returned. His attention turned to Sati, and he raised his voice to be heard over the din of the tavern. “Your Worship!”
“Oh, yes,” Dalish wore a rueful smile that was barely visible above her mug, “calling her by her most esteemed title is sure to put her at ease.”
“Don’t see any of you lot volunteering,” he shot back before finally standing like he’d been itching to do since she walked in.
He approached the qunari woman with a smile, giving her some distance from the rest of the Chargers. Best not to overwhelm her any more than she already was. Especially when he was already facing down a mountain when it came to trying to get her to put her feet up for a change. “Buy you a drink? Though I guess you probably drink for free here, seeing as how the place is named after you.” He waved this off. “Was hoping to get in a quick game of darts, if you’re up for it. Can’t trust any of them not to just throw the damned things at my head.”
Krem had seen a lot of villages wiped off the map during his brief stint with the Tevinter army, but none of it compared to Haven.
He’d been outside talking to Harritt when the templars came. Damned crazed zealots, the lot of them. Dangerous, too. He didn’t know what power that demon or darkspawn or whatever he was had over them, and he didn’t want to find out. All that mattered was getting the people who couldn’t defend themselves to safety.
Krem had made his peace long ago with the fact that his place wasn’t on the front lines of an army’s forces. He was better as a skirmisher, providing support for the bulk of the troops. In the case of Haven, that mostly meant rounding up the Chargers to draw attention off of the Herald and to give those fleeing to the Chantry a safe way to do so.
Hadn’t been for nothing, but the loss was rough on everyone. Those at the top felt it most, sure, but Krem felt it too. He’d mostly avoided the trap of “could’ve, would’ve, should’ve,” but sometimes he wondered what would’ve happened if he’d taken a different route; if he’d fallen back a few minutes later.
Probably be face down in the snow with an arrow or twelve in his back, and that was the nicest fate he could imagine. Especially since he’d seen what happened to others who weren’t so lucky.
Inquisitor Sati had sent the Chargers to scout what was left of Haven, under Commander Cullen’s command. Wasn’t a smile cracked or a laugh on anybody’s lips that day, not even when they’d set up camp for the night. Quietest he’d ever seen the Chargers, save for that time Rocky messed up the powder ratio and knocked almost all of them out cold.
It was all senseless, but that was the cost of war. No way around it except to move forward, and when it came to Bull’s company, that meant lots and lots of mead. Whole casks of it that the big guy had fought for with Lady Montilyet.
They’d gotten back from scouting just a few days past. Krem had given his report, and now he was eager to put it behind him. Lots of work to do, but for tonight he was just content being with the “crazy bunch of assholes” who’d become his family.
Hard not to notice when the Inquisitor came into the Herald’s Rest, though. Harder not to stand immediately like any good soporati addressing his betters. Krem just lifted his mug to his lips and watched her. She might’ve been stopping off to see someone for business; seemed all she did lately was go from one meeting to the next, when she wasn’t off saving the world.
She looked damned tired, though.
“Can’t imagine what that’s like,” he said, leaning back in his chair.
“Having bad songs written about you?” Stitches asked, referencing the minstrel’s current choice.
Didn’t sound half bad to him, but he was a tailor’s son. What did he know about it?
“Having all these people depend on you,” he said. “Seems like she could use a break. One night of peace.”
“You going to give it to her?” Skinner’s tone was deadpan and as hostile as ever, but he’d known her long enough to catch her meaning.
“Sod off,” he said, making a rude gesture at the elven woman which she promptly returned. His attention turned to Sati, and he raised his voice to be heard over the din of the tavern. “Your Worship!”
“Oh, yes,” Dalish wore a rueful smile that was barely visible above her mug, “calling her by her most esteemed title is sure to put her at ease.”
“Don’t see any of you lot volunteering,” he shot back before finally standing like he’d been itching to do since she walked in.
He approached the qunari woman with a smile, giving her some distance from the rest of the Chargers. Best not to overwhelm her any more than she already was. Especially when he was already facing down a mountain when it came to trying to get her to put her feet up for a change. “Buy you a drink? Though I guess you probably drink for free here, seeing as how the place is named after you.” He waved this off. “Was hoping to get in a quick game of darts, if you’re up for it. Can’t trust any of them not to just throw the damned things at my head.”