She'd become rather adept at traveling and living light, she believed. After they'd finished their expedition in the jungles north of Laysh, return to Orlais was not a possibility even if she'd wanted to go. The blight that plagued Orlais had made the country nigh impassable for anyone who valued their life. And Jaya very much valued hers. She'd gone instead to Hossberg at the suggestion of Professor Verax. She could not yet travel directly with the professor to the newly established headquarters of the Highwing Restoration Initiative in the valley southwest of the capitol of the Anderfels. Those who'd bonded on their mission, and those who'd found eggs on another, had been given the first priority so as to settle their griffons or eggs as quickly as possible. And so she'd waited.
She'd had enough time to write home to her family, and for them to respond. An aunt had come, part of a traveling troupe, to deliver her some clothing, money, and even a few books from home along with letters. Jaya had opened and gone through the things, holding the clothing tight to her chest and breathing in the old but always familiar spice and incense scents of home. But then she'd packed it all away again, wanting to be ready at a moments notice.
When the letter finally came, Jaya felt as if she might have burst from her own skin in her excitement. From Hossberg, she traveled with a caravan that kept mostly with the Lattenfluss river to Nordbotten. To earn her keep, Jaya taught letters and numbers to the children of the caravan, and even some of the adults. The Anders were a rough people, with few having received a proper education, and so they seemed to greatly value what she was able to impart along their way.
Nordbotten was not a large city, but if was as fortified as one. In this land where darkspawn did not wait for a Blight to ravage the countryside, she supposed it was why the city still stood at all. After thanking and bidding farewell to her caravan companions, Jaya wandered into the city. There was little here in the way of decoration or amusement. The buildings were simple structures, easy to rebuild if razed. The shops were utilitarian, catering to the necessities of life rather than luxuries, but she spied out their artwork all the same. Bold, if simple, imagery covered the walls near shops, hinting at what wares might be sold inside. Blacksmiths distinguished themselves with subtle, but telling marks or adornments added to the weapons they displayed. And when she arrived at a tavern called The Dusty Sty, she heard their music as well.
Here, she was to present herself to the barkeep who would be waiting for a number of others traveling to the Highwing headquarters. After doing just that, he said he'd send whoever else arrived her way. So she found herself a table near the bar and ordered a drink and a light meal as she listened to the somber marches, melancholic odes, and fearsome chants of the Anderfells.
Nordbotten was, by the Icarius family’s definition, not a city. The structures were rudimentary, the people simple and uncouth, the cold mountain weather harsh and uninhabitable, the terrors roaming the slopes and wilds inexcusable, the organizations and institutions laughable, the leadership informal, the food simple, and so on, and so forth.
Iggy loved it, truly.
It was the sounds that he’d decided that he loved best. Even sitting at the bar of the Dusty Sty, the faster whips of wind could be heard blowing across the mountain slopes around the town, a constant reminder that man was second to the elements. He’d yet to see a person about that hadn’t worked in some fashion, the tavernkeeper simultaneously a brewer and homemaker and cook, the smiths carving their own handles and stoking their own fires and smelting their own metals and hawking their own wares. Even the elderly, those few he’d seen, weren’t people of idle hands, knitting clothing, mending homes and stores, watching little ones below and the terrains above like hawks.
It made him stick out like a sore thumb, of course, with his book open at the bar, a treatise on the different kinds of flora and fungi one could find on the Antivan coast hardly a common topic around here. But his gold had kept coming, and so the tavernkeeper had regarded him with befuddlement, the locals eyeing him as only one of a number of interlopers recently.
Adjusting his posture as he heard the tavern door open and shut behind him, Iggy would lean more squarely on an elbow as he hung his gaze down to read, a mug in his free hand to provide sips of ale. He’d eye the tavernkeeper as she passed, then returned from another woman clearly from out of town as well, then went out with some food and drink. As she returned, he’d flag her over, pointing at her hand, coins clutched within.
”How much?”
The tavernkeeper, brow raised, would answer skeptically. ”Five coppers.” Her skepticism would double as Iggy reached into his pocket for a silver and motioned at the coppers, offering an unspoken trade. Accepting with suspicion, Iggy would reassure her with a polite smile, shoulder his book, grab his ale and an unfinished plate of bread, and meander to his fellow foreigner, offering the plate. ”Pardon me, but might you finish this? Seems a waste to let spoil, and I’ve already had my fill.”
The ale that was brought to her was strong. Admittedly, Jaya was not one to commonly drink ale, so perhaps her perception of it was not a learned one. But, the meal that came with it -a thick stew of rough, salty meat and the sort of root vegetables that could survive even the harshest of winters- was also something that she could describe as strong. Hearty, at the very least. So she supposed that this was simply the way of things here. And it made sense with everything else she'd seen and heard in the Anderfels. It was something she'd need to acclimate to, and sooner was better than later.
She'd just taken her first bite when someone spoke just over her shoulder. As she turned, a plate came into view. It was followed by an arm, which set the plate down on the table. Jaya's eyes continued along the arm up to a shoulder, then the neck and face of a man who, by no stretch of the imagination, could be local.
"Hmph?" she managed, processing his words while trying to place his accents. He must also be traveling to the griffon sanctuary, surely. After a moment, her self awareness returned and she set her spoon down a bit too quickly, clanking it in the bowl as her other hand covered her mouth. She chewed the rough meat quickly, then swallowed and cleared her throat. "Oh, umm... th- thank you?" she finally managed, not quite meaning to make it sound as much of a question as it did. The bread would be lovely for soaking up the stew, though, so she did reach for a piece.
"Will you sit?" she asked by way of invitation as she gestured toward the empty chair beside her. "I take it you are traveling to the Highwing Restoration Initiative as well?" Her eyes caught the title of the book he held. While it did not seem relevant to griffons or the Anderfels, it furthered her assumption all the same. He was an academic of some fashion, at least.
"My name is Jaya Zeudi." she quickly added, hoping he'd not found her rude.
"You're welcome?" Returning her questioning tone with one of his own, he'd smile, joking lightly at her expense. Upon closer inspection, she stuck out, the uncertain air of a fellow stranger in a strange land apparent. Hardly a surprise by tavern standards, but even still, it was something he'd come to appreciate; his favorite conversations had always been with someone he could share the awkward feeling of knowing nothing with. It was almost more fun to figure things out from scratch with someone else than it was to learn it properly from the locals, the mystique a fun puzzle to be solved.
"I will, thank you Jaya Zeudi." Repeating her name as much for his own sake as hers, he'd set the bread down on the table before taking the gestured seat, settling in comfortably, leaning back. Book set before him, he'd point at himself. "I'm Ignacious Daedalus. Call me Iggy." A smile would hide a routine deception, his proper, final last name left by the wayside. It was a cautious habit, but one that had borne fruit closer to Tevinter, with more than a few people recognizing the last name of one the Imperium's most important families. So far afield, here, it likely mattered little to the locals, but to a fellow traveler...
Well, there was no sense in letting a perfectly annoying thing like a name ruin a perfectly enjoyable conversation.
"You're right on the money, I came as soon as I'd heard. Griffons? In the Dragon Age?" A shrug of his shoulders and a happy little exasperated sigh made his amazement clear enough. Mild, maybe, but clear. "A proper topic of study, I should say. I've heard they've even found different types."
"Where have you travelled from? I was in Tevinter when news first broke, but I was in Nevarra when they made the call for recruitment."
Why couldn’t they come to him in Minrathous? Couldn’t House Verax host half a dozen people and their griffons? Assuming that all of those eclectic personages even chose to answer the strongly worded invitation from the Professor. Quinn had lost his taste for travel – somewhere between the cold wind that cut right through him and the rocky hike down the mountain. At least the eluvian had been there, cutting several hundred miles off his journey to Nordbotten.
It seemed a wretched little town, in his estimation. The Anders eked out a living barely sufficient to feed and clothe themselves. And they had about as much use for a wealthy foreign businessman as he had for them, no doubt. He trudged past a stinking pig farm and into the town proper, Argos nipping playfully at the trailing edge of his cloak.
He found the Dusty Sty in short order and heaved open the door for the young griffon, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the low light within. Argos chirruped uncertainly and stuck close to Quinn’s legs, neither of them liking the eyes upon them now.
But it wasn’t all ambivalent locals. Two obvious foreigners spoke together at one of the tables near the bar. Quinn licked his dry lips and approached, surprised to see that they were both strangers. Only, that wasn’t entirely right. While he’d never been formally introduced, he knew [of Ignatious Icarius. A black sheep of sorts, functionally exiled from Tevene high society. And Quinn was ever-so-curious why.
It seemed they had been waiting long enough to have been served.
“Apologies for our tardiness, Lady. Lord Icarius.” He inclined his head, a brief nod, and took a seat at their table. “Quintilian Frey and Argos, at your service.” Reaching down to Argos, he encouraged the young griffon to place his scaly forepaws on his knee, elevating the creature’s head above the table to peer at the two others.
“Is this all of us?” He’d expected to meet with one of the mercenaries or one of the dwarves from the expedition, at least. Were Argos' nestmates alright?
"Iggy." Jaya repeated, giving a nod of her head and a smile.
She'd just taken another bite of her stew when he confirmed they were here for the same reasons. Her eyes widened as she chewed and nodded her head enthusiastically at his expression of amazement. She hurried her chewing and swallowing to add "Two that I've seen!" she grinned, remembering the incredible creatures she'd seen on the expedition with Professor Verax.
"Rivain, by way of the University of Orlais." she said, and was about to elaborate when the inn's door opened, admitting another traveler. Silhouetted as he wasby the dull light from outside, his features were not immediately discernible. But her eyes were not on the man for long. Jaya let out a soft gasp as she saw the creature walking beside the new arrival.
It was no surprise, then, that the man approached their table and introduced himself. She hardly registered his words, however, as she was so enthralled by the juvenile griffon. "Oh you are just exquisite, aren't you?" she said, her eyes never leaving the little griffon. It was taking every bit of her self control not to reach out toward Argos. Instead, she retrieved a notebook and pencil from her pack and quickly began to sketch, wanting to capture his plumage pattern around his eyes.
"We couldn't get near the hatchling we encountered in the Donarks." she said. "I'd heard another expedition found eggs. How soon after did they hatch? How many? I wonder how they'll compare to the one we saw. It's my understanding that Professor Verax was able to get them relocated to the facility. What it's diet?"
When Jaya's eyes finally moved to the man as she posed the last question, she realized what she'd been doing. Her own eyes widened, then glanced down to the table in embarrassment. She pulled her lips between her teeth, biting down as she enclosed her pencil in her notebook and set that down. "I'm so sorry." she finally said. "It's very nice to meet you, uh... ser." she hoped the flush rising in her neck wasn't readily visible.
