Chapter 27: Nathaniel

He stood, staring at the open space where his tent used to be, mind spinning. He’d detailed someone to gather his things but had yet to requisition himself a new tent; the day had been busy, attending to Cailan and adding new routes for the scouts to cover amongst the various camps. He’d expected a pile of gear just waiting for him, but there was nothing.

While he considered his options – tracking down the servant who’d disassembled the tent, perhaps – a runner approached him nervously, holding out a note with slightly shaking hands. Nate took it, trying to hide his eyeroll from the poor kid; it wasn’t the teenager’s fault that he was now the Fereldan cautionary tale, and as such, apparently intimidating beyond belief.

He dismissed the runner with a wave, knowing it would be easier to deliver a response in person than force a terrified boy to stand there while he found writing supplies and wrote a reply. He didn’t recognise the handwriting, but there was a subtle perfume scent on the parchment that immediately informed him who the author of the note was. He sniffed it appreciatively, furtively, before unfolding it.

“Arl Nathaniel Howe,” he read. “My Lord, I have secured your possessions somewhere both safe and dry. I must insist on delivering my report to you in person. If this is acceptable to you, please proceed south from the edge of camp and follow the marked trail. If not, your former accommodations are prepared for your arrival.”

He suppressed an outright grin; Leliana had left things vague enough that, if intercepted, the note would not implicate either of them in anything, however it gave him a clear enough impression: he was being invited to a secret meeting in the woods, but being given an easy out if he wished to end things without conflict.

He looked down at himself – the rumpled clothes he’d managed to pull out of his tent and change into early that morning, knowing his hair was unkempt and his face covered in stubble – and sighed. He could probably make her wait while he invaded her tent – he wasn’t taking it back, no matter what she said – looking for clean clothes, but that clearly wasn’t what she had in mind. He’d have to trust that his less-than-well-groomed self would be good enough.

He stopped briefly to speak to one of Cailan’s many servants – Nathaniel hadn’t really found time to hire his own, so Cailan had allowed him to borrow help when required. That done, he straightened his shoulders and started walking.

He followed her directions, leaving camp on the main path in the south, but quickly noted a flash of red to his right; upon further inspection, it was a thin strip of cloth the colour of Leliana’s usual cloak. He untied it from the branch where he found it, only to realise that he was standing on a narrow trail leading away from the main path. Intrigued – and hoping he’d read her clues correctly – he followed the game trail west, finding another strip of cloth flapping in the slight breeze perhaps fifty feet further along. The trail meandered for a while, curving north and west, and leading up a slight hill, before taking a hard turn back towards the east and up a sharp incline. Another bright strip of red assured him that he was on the correct path. He didn’t quite have to crawl up the slope, but was thankful for the scrubby trees and low-hanging branches on either side which he knew he could grab for if he lost his balance.