freedom_is_grey | Building castles in the mud

"It's a gift," says Cullen, dry, trailing afterward. "One must motivate however one can."

"I'm glad that you're good at it."

Ysalwen greets the kennel-master and one of his apprentices by name, kindly getting out of the girl's way so she can be greeted by Liranan. The kennel-master, too.

And then it's time to look over the dogs. Liranan seems to have a favorite set of friends already. They do not go hunting enough together! Ysalwen should fix that!

Cullen, meanwhile, has divided his attention.

It's... entirely strange, and he's not sure that it's in a good way, to be standing in a Fereldan kennels, on Ferelden soil, when he left Kirkwall that morning knowing the whole place would be at a standstill until he returned from doing his part to ensure good and just rule for the Arling of Amaranthine.

(He stands as though perhaps his body might evaporate into the air, which smells of dog and horse and hay and damp and, under all that, good, clean earth.

He hadn't expected it to smell the same, after seven years, after a Blight.)

Ysalwen scratches one particular mabari behind the ear, then nudges her in Cullen's direction.

Words are useless with memories, or so she's found.

Enthusiastic mabari are much better.

Liranan agrees!

There are worse ways to become immediately distracted from a thought spiral of nebulous badness than being confronted by a dog.

Fairly quickly, his expression eases, and he kneels to greet her properly. "Hello," he murmurs. "It's nice to meet you."

The world is often strange and terrible. Milliways just makes that different, not necessarily better.

Mabari, however, are occasionally strange but rarely terrible, so it's a nice change!

Ysalwen is going to get swarmed by dogs in a moment, if she is not careful. Liranan does insist on talking her up!

The dog in front of Cullen, however, seems determined to prove he can be climbed like a mountain! Or she just wants to lick his face.

Not much of a mountain when he's kneeling! It does, however, take more effort than he'd care to admit to keep from being knocked over.

"Yes," Cullen says, carefully, trying to get a word in edgewise. "And here I'd thought it was just Liranan being enthusiastic. I'd forgotten it was... common."

Maybe Cullen is just special! At least one mabari seems to think so.

Ysalwen, meanwhile, has resigned herself to being jumped on. There are worse fates!

Cullen watches this and says to the mabari in his face, "Oughtn't they to know that jumping up is bad manners?"

The mabari in his face barks once, then whuffs a little more quietly.

Then back to licking!

Liranan yips in return, gleefully, then starts bodily shoving other mabari out of his way. Ysa is his elf-person! Get your own!

Before it turns into an overall free-for-all, Cullen stands, quickly, and retreats to the wall.

He's got better sense than to get in the middle of a mabari wrestling match.

"Right, then," Ysalwen says loudly, extricating herself from the tangle.

The kennel-master whistles, too, which gets all the mabari to stop being troublesome.

Eventually.

"That's me taught a lesson, right there. Though you seem to have made a friend, Ser Stanton. I hope you've both been polite."

The mabari by his side lolls her tongue in happy panting. Liranan's person maybe doesn't have terrible taste in company.

Perhaps.

Cullen glances down at his companion and says, overly solemn, "I can only speak for myself, Commander, but I can assure you I've done my best."

The dog at his side yips, tail wagging cheerfully.

He is a very good person, this one! He knows just where to scratch!

Ysalwen shakes her head, mouth curving in a smile.

"And on that note -- toward the stables, perhaps? I wanted to get your opinion of some of the yearlings."

She'll say thank you the kennel-master on the way out, and he, in turn, seems pleased to see them go. Disruptions, you know. Troublesome for the training.

"Of course," Cullen says, straightening -- not quite coming to full attention -- and follows.

He might glance behind him, though, to see if the mabari are still circling.

(They are.)

One of them is going to watch him intently, tail wagging joyously, until he and Ysalwen pass from sight.

(Mostly him.)

"I feel as if I ought to lecture about the stonemasonry here, and point out some of the finer aspects of our construction," Ysalwen allows, once they're out of the kennels and making their way toward the stables.

Slowly.

"Twenty steps and you'll have your vantage point."

"Good," Cullen says -- and gives her a sidelong look. "You didn't bring me here for my engineering expertise, so the lecture could wait, if you'd rather."

Beat.

"Also, if you'd brought me here for my engineering expertise, I'm afraid you'd be quite disappointed."

"You'd be disappointed in my lecture, so I suppose fair's fair."

Her mouth twitches at one corner, though her gaze moves beyond Cullen to the practice yards, though she doesn't lift her hand to shade her eyes.

That would, in some ways, be telling.

Liranan, taking his cue, flops on his side and rolls on his back in the dirt.

Meanwhile, in the yard, half the troops are working with bows while the others engage in formation drills. There is more good-natured back-and-forth than there ought to be in the drilling troops. The archers, however, are being overseen by a man with fine leather armor, an easy commanding nature, and shoulder-length dark hair. None of the men and women under his command are joking at all.

The contrast is easy to see. Cullen adds another item to his mental list.

(And is quietly disgruntled at the thought that he'll have to join that in the morning without putting a stop to it.)

But all he says -- quite neutrally -- to Ysalwen: "Who is it running drill?"

"Landon."

Ysalwen's response is immediate, even as she bends over to rub Liranan's belly. He put it out there, he pays the price!

"Garevel's second lieutenant, a boy from Amaranthine made good. One of Nathaniel's friends in the Marches vouched for him. They did some mercenary work together, as I understand it. He's good in the field."

Cullen grunts, watches a few moments more.

"All right." Quiet. "That's enough for now."

Hmm.

"Is now when I sweep in so you can see how they are with me? Or is that later?"

It's --

Well.

She's not entirely sure what Cullen wants to look for, perhaps.

"That's now, if you're willing." He glances at her. "I'll watch from here. And we can speak about it later."

"Very well."

Ysalwen takes a deep breath, eyes closing for a three-count and opening again before she strides off toward the practice ground.

Liranan stays behind with Ser Stanton, sprawling at Cullen's feet.

Nathaniel is obviously the first to notice his commander's approach, but he says nothing, merely stays about his business. Slowly other heads turn in her direction and conversation dies away. The soldiers' effort at their drills redoubles, and those that are slow to pick up on the changed mood receive no quarter from their opponents.

Ysalwen, meanwhile, makes herself comfortable on a hay bale that was previously being used as an archery target, and watches. Just for a little while.

Well. That's something.

And not the worst case scenario. Worst case would be that they notice Ysalwen and do nothing.

It does take longer than Cullen would like for everyone to realize that the commander is in the yard.

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