WELCOME

[Reginald Norfield]

It was so odd to imagine him as a man with responsibility in leading a people with his wisdom and to hearken the words of the gods. Perhaps they were wise to have him grow among the Lowlanders, because surely he would have been poor at the role indeed. Too much of him loved the travel and ever changing lands around him, leaving him to wonder ever more what was beyond the next ridge and around the next bend in the road. Looking up to the stars, he silently thanked the Lady her wisdom in where he was born.

It would certainly be easy to have armed people dropping templars into snow filled ravines, but that, too, was part of the fun. Like the fox, he reveled in the chase because they would not catch him so long as he was quick witted and watchful.

Exchanging knowledge as he listened, he explained the ways of the Lowlanders to her. “I do not know how much you have seen of the Lowlander ways, so stop me if these things are already told tales. Their king is very distant and not easily reached unless you know the proper channels. He lives in Denerim, and although he walks among his people when he can, he governs too many to know them all personally. The nobility, those who claim to own the lands and have people tend it, help decide the course of the big decisions the king makes for his people. This keeps the king from being too powerful. I wish I could explain to you how they believe they own land, but that is a mystery to me. A stone dropped in a field by the Mountain Father was there before you and I were born and it will endure a hundred generations after we are gone. Claiming to own it is typical of the Lowlander foolishness. They seem content enough in their ways, but they are curious sorts.”

He followed her gladly, as he had no other place to go for the night. “They rely on their Chantry to some extent for guidance, too, but it is a complicated organization. Not only to they try to spread the ways of their single, absent deity, but they clothe the less fortunate, feed the hungry, and care for the people in need. For some reason, the Lowlanders do not do that automatically all the time, so the Chantry takes up the cause. They are somewhat odd, really, so if you do not understand them you shall be in good company. I do not think they understand themselves half the day.”

"Naturally, you already know of how they treat those gifted of magic. Rather than listening to the gods and spirits, they flee from them. It would be amusing if it were not so tragic."

[Lorelei]

Lorelei tilted her head and listened attentively. "A king? It sounds like he is... a thane of thanes." She pulled a face. "That does not make any sense when I say it. Maybe I have misunderstood?"

She shook her head at the talk of owning land. "Your parents did you a great service when they guarded you from most of their ways," she said. "Owning land... the Wardens are much the same. Mired in things unchanging... they don't really like it when things change," she said sadly. "They strive for change but I don't think many of them embrace it."

She sighed and shook her head again. "Everything is so static. I move around the land but inevitably I go back. The land changes with the season but the people do not... it is unsettling."

She looked up to the sky and smiled as they left the shadow of the city walls. "There is a tradition within our tribe," she said proudly. "Where some have war hounds - and that, at least, the lowlanders seem to respect - but our tribe had hunting birds." She thinned her lips and blew sharply between her lips, the piercing sound of her whistle very much like a falcon's call.

There was an answering call in the sky and the raptor circling overhead descended. His wingspan was at least four feet from tip to tip, and he slowed to a gentle hover before landing neatly on Lorelei's padded shoulder.

"This is Sark," Lorelei said proudly. "He is a dear friend of mine. I am extremely lucky - and grateful - that he chose to stay with me when I joined the Wardens." She reached up with a finger to gently stroke his head, a gesture that the raptor received gladly.

Sark paused in his basking under Lorelei's fingers to regard Reginald almost thoughtfully, his head tilting sideways and his eyes looking straight at the apostate's. He chirruped, a question, and looked at Lorelei curiously.

"He is kin," Lorelei explained. "And he knows what these lowlanders are like. He's going to help me - and we're going to do the same for him, I hope."

Sark, satisfied with the explanation, resumed his preening as if nothing had happened.