Baleful Wings (Dragon's Dogma Fanfiction)

Chapter 34 : Beatitude

"You certainly know aught about curatives," commented Camellia, amazed at the hefty amount of wares Arya bought.
"Why don't you open your own shop then?" Added Camellia's assistant, awkwardly.
Arya smiled gently at the brown - haired girl, "I have a lot of coin, and naught the time to collect the supplies, so I enjoy supporting apothecary businesses."
"Sounds like you're just too lazy to --"
"Judith, seems we have a sudden spill! Fetch a mop, would you?" Inserted Camellia.
"But I just saw you knock that over," Judith replied squarely.
Arya chuckled and waved, "I'll leave you to it, then."
"Do come again."

Arya sat on the edges of the fountain what stood in the middle of the Urban Quarter, refreshed at the cool stone against the back of her thighs. She let out a sigh of relief, relishing the short time she spends out of armor. She spent a short while mixing and combining herbs and tonics, when suddenly the sunlight was blocked from her eyes. She looked up curiously, noticing a red-clad man blocking her light.
"Oh, hello," Arya greeted, gleefully.
"Greetings Ser Arya, I am Ser Maximilian Eizenstern. You have been summoned by the honorable Duke Edmun Dragonsbane," said the knight, stalwartly.
"Hm? Why?"
"Tis a matter at the Duke's preference, ser."

What a strange way to express that he didn't know, Arya thought to herself, walking the stoney curved path that lead to the Noble Quarter. She noticed another oriental man with a small troupe of fighters, all dressed differently with a variety of weapons. His expression was bright, with a determined demeanor. His eyes were aloof, but she could tell his focus was unyielding.
Arya couldn't help but speak, "Hail, ser."
He turned to her, with a slightly surprised look on his face. "Oh, uh.. you talkin' to me?"
Arya was caught off guard by his rough accent.
He scratched his hair, "Sorry, I'm not used to all this 'ser ' business. Where I'm from, we just use names. Oh, I'm Shingen, by the by."
Arya flashed him a smile, "Tis my pleasure, Shingen. I'm called Arya."
The black - haired young man slightly raised his fist, almost assuringly, and continued on. He struck her as the type of person faced with many troubles, but remained full of hope. He hosted a beautiful smile, facing uncertainties fearlessly.
His modesty seemed fake, and he clearly hid an amazing strength behind his humbleness.

"Hey, watch it, commoner."
Arya looked up, startled that she had bumped into someone so clumsily. She was in the Noble Quarter before she knew it. The houses were large and grandeur, beautiful in design and had elegant yards - unlike the houses in the Residential Quarter, which were all rather cramped. It seemed that most of the people here walked with their noses pointed slightly upward. She walked the masonstone path past the church and barracks into to the Duke's demesne, where she was greeted by more people than she was used to.
In the main chamber of the Duke's castle, there was a large collection of knights and aristocrats - all smiling at her arrival. "Defeated a dragon!" "A dragon." "Quite the warrior."
"Hail, ser Arya," said Duke Edmun, his voice mighty and unwavering, washing out the crowd's. "You have returned to us, all but too soon."
The chamber echoed with chuckles and laughter.
Arya was thoroughly confused,  so she curtsied awkwardly. 

"My bastard son returned to us days ago, I had assumed you were accosted in battle. Pray, where have you been?" asked Duke Edmun, now resting his bearded face on his fist.
"I left after the Black Cloaks, and was tired from our journey, so I rested at Union Inn."
Again the chamber was riddled with laughter. The Duke stepped from his throne and approached her with his arms folded. "After an official inquisition, 'tis your duty to report to me."
Arya was silent in the face of this staturely man. She was overwhelmed by his odor, the smell of the Dragon.
"But after word of your accomplishments, I cannot justly deal punishment," he added with a smile, "The defeat of a Dragon!" The room was booming with cheers. His Grace returned to his throne, robed with the attention of all in attendance. "So..." his glare was now dark, "Where is your proof of this claim?"
The room fell silent. Arya reached into her pack, and presented the party with a sturdy pike-shaped object. It was brunneous, and cragged. Edmun gestured for his Chamberlain, Aldous, to obtain it. The Chamberlain inspected it for a few seconds, then looked back at the Duke and nodded. After a few moments of silence the room was again filled with cheers and socializing continued, under the Duke's royal eyes.

Arya was not used to this awkward attention. She was still being greeted by many knights of the realm, and most of the time quite uncomfortably. Men and women of all shapes and sizes kissed her hand, and offered her drinks. "You shameless harlot," she said gently to her right hand, feeling somewhat dirtied.

Against the wall was a knight clad in black armor, and folded arms. He moved the golden locks from his face, "Hail, ser knight. I am Ser Julien, of Voldoa." His eyes glowed against his dark armor, and his defiant chin was accentuated by his long, neatly-styled blonde hair.
Arya curtsied.
"So you slayed a Dragon, for true..?"
"No. It escaped while it yet lived."
The mysterious man closed his eyes, "It looks like Hearthstone is capable of producing aught worthy, after all."
Arya laughed, "Of course. Before I, was the head of a Hydra, presented by Hearthstone's own princess."
Julien scoffed.
"With the both of us here, there will soon be no beasts left in Gransys!" Arya laughed joyfully.
"Twas the work of the Arisen. Ser Mercedes just happened to be present," he retorted.
Arya rolled her eyes, "And I was accompanied by the Black Cloaks. You have this disdain for my people, for true, but.." She walked up to him, smiling, "What have you slain?"
Julien's eyes widened, "None of --"
"Nothing at all! Maybe you should learn to be a team player, like us!" Arya laughed, feeling only slightly regretful of embarrassing such a beautiful man.
"Bonjour, mademoiselle!" Arya's attention was drawn by a short but elegant woman. Her hair was a beautiful shade of auburn, and she was quite the middle-aged beauty. She lightly grabbed Arya's hands and gently kissed both her cheeks, a gesture Arya understood and returned.

"Ahh, je m'apelle Miribelle. Enchantée," the woman spoke happily, but was obviously slightly drunk.
Arya only smiled in return, "Bonsoir, madame." The room was filled with a strange joy that Arya was not accustomed to, and she felt incredibly out-of-place compared to the regally-dressed attendees. She wore a blue scarf and a brigandine jerkin, which for Arya served as somewhat of a skirt. No-one on this continent wore skirts. She felt much more comfortable out in the wilderness opposed to being a guest of honor at a party. Suddenly, the door was pushed open and a small collection of men joined the festivities. They were dressed roughly, and even bore their weapons, which were mostly quite large. It was none other than the Black Cloaks, only not in uniform. Franz bowed to Julien before going for a drink, and Edward approached Arya.
"À tout à l'heure," said Miribelle, before joining the crowd again. Edward wore a tight blue shirt, which looked stunning against his fiery orange hair. "Hail, ser Arya. I didn't take you for the socialite type."
"I'm not," she replied. "I honestly did not expect such an event." Arya was completely overwhelmed by Edward and his men, who all came just like she did. More prepared for battle than anything else. "I'm greatly relieved at your presence, Ser Edward," she said, almost unintentionally. She realized then that the Black Cloaks was a group of people not unlike her. Outcasts.
He smiled at her, but his expression quickly changed. Confused, Arya looked behind her, where a small fair-skinned young girl stood. She looked back at Edward, whose eyes looked different than they've ever looked.
"Mother," greeted Edward, awkwardly.
The woman was none other than Aelinore, the Duke's young wife from Meloire.