With the Darkspawn issues in Orlais showing no sign of being resolved, there was no doubt that the Forsaken needed other branches of income. Kirkwall had been only a trip through the mirror away.
It seemed it was full up, though. Something called the Coterie and dwarves from the Carta, mercenaries between them. Katrien had no interest in a drawn out fight, so she’d moved on almost immediately. On foot, unfortunately.
You just couldn’t get a good feel for a place’s character otherwise. Kirkwall’s was … Dubious, to be sure. Her spirit passenger felt uneasy there, and she was glad it wouldn’t be a second home to her anytime soon. Now she stood at the door to a little inn some ways outside the city, looking up at the sign.
Back Water. Not Backwater. What kind of water came off a back? None for drinking, surely. It was a pleasant summer night and this place didn’t seem too crowded. Still musing on the oddity of the establishment’s name, Katrien let herself in.
Nathaniel took a deep breath, savoring the crisp, fresh air of the Free Marches. After so many years battling the taint and serving as a Grey Warden, the simplicity of hunting and the promise of a normal life felt almost surreal. He'd spent the morning tracking rabbits, his thoughts drifting to the friends he had left behind and the new beginnings he hoped to forge.
As he approached the Back Water, the familiar sight of Cooper's tavern brought a smile to his face. The place had always been a sanctuary, a spot where laughter and stories flowed as freely as the ale. It was here that he felt he could truly put down roots.
Nathaniel entered through the back door, the scent of roasting meat and the hum of conversation greeting him. He set the rabbits outside, making a mental note to clean and prepare them later. The small, cozy kitchen offered a brief respite, a place to clean up before rejoining the world outside.
With his hands and face washed, Nathaniel made his way to the bar, the worn wooden counter as familiar as an old friend. He poured himself a drink, the amber liquid catching the light as it filled the glass. Taking a long sip, he let the warmth spread through him, easing the tension in his muscles.
As he leaned against the counter, Nathaniel's eyes were drawn to the entrance. The door creaked open, and a figure stepped inside. It was someone he didn't recognize—a new face in the familiar crowd. Curiosity piqued, Nathaniel watched as the newcomer glanced around, taking in the rustic charm of the tavern.
Nathaniel set his glass down, the soft clink of glass on wood barely audible over the din of the room. He straightened and made his way towards the stranger, a slightly awkward smile on his face.
Welcome to the Back Water, he said, his voice warm but a bit unsure. Do you come here often, or is this just a happy accident? He mentally cringed at his own words, hoping the stranger would appreciate the attempt at humor.
It was rather cozy inside the inn – and evidently not one of those awkward places where the sudden appearance of an elf might bring conversation to a halt. Good, maybe even safe. If the Free Marches turned out to be a little freer than Orlais, that was all to the better. She would prefer a comfortable bed for the night over some shade by the road.
But her entrance had not gone entirely unnoticed. Katrien held her ground as the stranger approached, brows lifting in expectation. The tall human struck a funny balance between charming and clumsy the moment he opened his mouth. She grinned and shook her head.
“First time, I admit.” Her gaze flicked away briefly, roaming the bar where he’d come from. He seemed to be alone – and drinking something stronger than beer. Not yet drunk, though, or else she’d guess that he wouldn’t be embarrassed at all.
“But you seem like an expert. Invite me to join you?” Katrien lifted her chin in challenge – though it probably didn’t have quite that effect from the stranger’s height – she imagined he had a pretty good view of the top of her head. Slipping past him, she made her way over to the bar.
In more familiar territory, she would have stolen his drink. But you never knew, so she kept her hands where they were and contented herself with examining the label on the bottle. He’d served himself, which was interesting.
“Is this your place?” He didn’t quite look like an innkeeper. Recently retired from a life of adventure, perhaps?
Nathaniel watched Katrien as she took in her surroundings, noting the way she held herself with a mix of caution and confidence. Her sharp eyes assessed him quickly, and he couldn't help but feel a bit flustered under her gaze. He smiled as she answered him, feeling a bit better about his show of awkwardness since she didn’t see the need to call him out on it. Not only that but she suggested he should invite her to join him
Well, if you insist, besides drinking with someone is always better than drinking alone. Before his dark years, he’d always been a sociable sort, but being conscripted into the Grey Wardens and having his entire life upended had put a bit of a damper on his more outgoing and sociable nature, but now that the treatment he was taking was going so well, and he’d quit the Grey Wardens, he was a lot more his old self again.
As she examined the bottle, Nathaniel moved to stand beside her, feeling a bit more at ease now that the initial awkwardness had passed. No, this isn't my place, he replied, his voice warm. The Back Water belongs to a friend of mine, Cooper and his adopted daughter Mina. I just help myself to a drink now and then. He grabbed another glass and set it down by the bottle, then poured Katrien a drink and topped his off. Name’s Nathaniel, by the way.
Had there ever been a time when he was smooth? Perhaps smoother, he was a touch out of practise, since the last twenty years with the Grey Wardens he’d mostly kept his head down and to himself. Still, he was enjoying meeting someone new, free from the burden of having to explain he was a Grey Warden.
“Ah, my mistake. But it is such a curious name, no?” Katrien relaxed by slow fractions. If the owner had a daughter to protect, perhaps this place wasn’t particularly dangerous. Or perhaps she was simply reading the man beside her. He seemed quite comfortable here, and his attitude was charming in its way. “We are not so far from Kirkwall, after all. Hardly what I would call a backwater.”
She accepted the glass with a little nod, considering the contents as carefully as she’d done the bottle. Much to her chagrin, she had always been a lightweight when it came to spirits. This one drink would have to last if she wanted to keep her wits about her. She took a sip, wrinkling her nose briefly as the fumes burned her sinuses.
Alas, it seemed doubtful that this establishment would have good Orlesian wine. The spirits on offer seemed … Very expedient and strong, at the least.
“My name is Catherine. But you may call me Kat, monsieur Nathaniel.” A small lie, one that could be later explained away as simply as, perhaps you misheard. Names were precious and she only had the one.
“Forgive me, but do you know the Marches well? I could use some advice, if you do.” She turned toward him, setting her glass very near to his and letting her hand linger on the counter.
“My homeland remains under siege by monsters. My dear brothers and I are looking to relocate and I thought Kirkwall might do. Unfortunately, I don’t think it suits.” Because it was already full of criminals, of course. Nathaniel probably didn’t need to know that.
“Are all the city states so rough?” She took up her glass again, letting her hand brush his for just a second.
Nathaniel caught the brief wrinkle of Katrien’s nose as she sipped the drink, a small smile playing on his lips. The strong spirits here were definitely an acquired taste, especially for those used to finer fare.
Backwater might not be the best term, but it can mean the area behind a dam, where the water's calm and steady. Maybe that’s what the name’s about—finding peace after the storm. He chuckled softly, slightly embarrassed at the explanation, hoping it didn’t come across as too sentimental.
But there was truth in his words. Everyone deserved a place where they could feel safe, where they could rebuild after the chaos. Perhaps that was what he hoped this place could become for him, and perhaps it was what Kat was searching for too.
When she asked about the Marches, his expression grew thoughtful. He took a slow sip of his drink, giving himself a moment to consider her question. Her mention of the Darkspawn in Orlais brought a familiar weight to his chest. He’d seen firsthand the devastation those creatures could cause, and the thought of people still suffering under their onslaught left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.
The Marches are… diverse, to put it mildly, he began, his tone careful. Each city-state has its own character, its own set of rules—official and otherwise. Kirkwall, as you’ve seen, is a bit rough around the edges. It’s a city that’s been through a lot, and it shows. The Coterie, the Carta—they run the streets as much as the city guard does, if not more. It’s a place where power is constantly shifting hands, and you have to be careful who you trust.
He glanced down at her hand as it lingered near his, her touch light and fleeting, like a whisper of intent. Nathaniel wasn’t oblivious to flirting, though he often found himself awkward in the face of it. He cleared his throat slightly, a hint of a blush creeping up his neck as he continued.
Not all the city-states are like Kirkwall. Starkhaven, for example, is more stable—at least, it was the last time I passed through. It’s got its own challenges, of course, but it’s more… traditional. If you’re looking for a place with a bit less chaos, it might be worth considering.
He hesitated, then added, There’s also Ostwick—more of a trade hub, with a focus on commerce rather than crime. It’s safer, generally speaking, but also more rigid in its rules. If you’re looking for something quieter, that might be an option.
Nathaniel’s gaze returned to hers, trying to gauge her reaction. He felt a bit out of his depth; this wasn’t exactly his forte, but he wanted to help. She seemed like someone with a lot on her mind, and if he could offer some guidance—however small—it was worth the effort.
The Coterie. The Carta. She had heard those names, as brief as her time in Kirkwall proper had been. The city was still strong economically, even with all its other troubles. Or so it seemed to her, if it could support so many rogues and smugglers. Perhaps someday, when they were properly established in this new country, she might look to make inroads …
Until then, it was best not to think about it too much lest something slip when she reported back to Ailwin. She wanted him to take to her first choice, not to the second or third.
“Very literal names, those Kirkwallers.” Kat smiled, thinking back to what he’d said about this place. “But I begin to see the appeal. To ‘peace after the storm.’” She raised her glass to clink against his and braved another sip, more prepared for it this time.
Starkhaven and Ostwick both seemed to have potential, from what Nathaneil had to say. She’d have to journey through the Crossroads again, find their mirrors, give them each a few days of her attention. If only she knew how much time they had left. Val Royeaux had stood on the edge of a precipice for so long already.
Kat didn’t want to see the Forsaken plunge with it, when it finally fell.
“Thank you, monsieur. I can tell you are well traveled.” She hesitated for half a breath, weighing her options. While she was perfectly capable of handling all of the travel ahead alone, it would be safer with an experienced guide. Slower by road – but she would learn much more of the land. That could be worth it.
And he did blush so prettily.
“If you have no pressing business, might I borrow you for a little while? I would hate to get turned around on the road, you see.”
Nathaniel’s smile widened slightly as their glasses clinked, the sound a soft affirmation of the shared moment. At her compliment, he chuckled, shaking his head lightly. Well-traveled might be an overstatement. It’s more like I’ve wandered a lot, usually chasing after trouble—or trying to avoid it. His voice held a touch of self-deprecating humor, but there was truth behind his words. Nathaniel had spent so much of his life wandering, whether as a Grey Warden or a rogue before that. Now, with the Wardens behind him, he was still figuring out what it meant to just... exist without a constant battle ahead.
When she suggested borrowing his company for a while, Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, surprised by the invitation. He hadn’t expected her to ask for his help, but the idea of joining her on her journey sparked something in him. Maybe it was the adventurer in him, or maybe it was the desire for connection, but the offer sounded more appealing than he’d care to admit.
Borrow me, huh? He took a slow sip from his glass, considering her request. I suppose I don’t have anything pressing right now, unless you count cleaning those rabbits I caught this morning. He smiled warmly, the decision already forming in his mind. But you’re right—it’s easy to get turned around out here, especially if you’re not familiar with the roads. And besides, having company on the road makes for a much more pleasant journey.
Nathaniel set his glass down and turned fully toward her, his expression softening. If you’re heading to Starkhaven or Ostwick, I could guide you there. I’ve been to both places, though it’s been a while.
He paused for a moment, then added, with a hint of playfulness, I’ll warn you, though, my sense of direction isn’t perfect, and I can’t promise I’ll be much help when it comes to picking out the finer vintages of Orlesian wine. But if you’re looking for someone to keep you out of trouble—or at least get into the right kind of trouble—I’m your man.
The offer was genuine, even if tinged with a bit of lightheartedness. Nathaniel was ready for a new adventure, and traveling with someone like Kat promised to be just that.
