#minister caudecus

[diesvitae]

First batch of March [VS] Art Party on NA 6/12 @joydrawsart (I didn't notice I loved TWO of your toons ahah) @false-oasis @bonethot @dhuumy-thicc (I had to. I made Caudecus hot.) @gift-of-astralaria

Hopefully I'll be done with the other 6 by the end of the month 😭 My art is sponsored by ArenaNet

[dhuumy-thicc]

sooo that new outfit...

[the-elven-star]

Eh... love

[skaald-of-the-hearth-fires]

@nyoka-gorefell

I'm going to take this opportunity to talk about Logan! Yeehaw!

I mained human so I kinda liked Logan. I've always been biased toward him. I didn't necessarily think he'd made the right decision, but I supported his right to make it. Like he said in the Dream-vision of him: you would have made the same choice, any of you, if the one you loved was in danger!

Basically, it was a bad spot all around. Lose-lose situation. He made the most of it. That was my view.

I'm planning a rewrite of Edge of Destiny (someday lol) to make it better + clearer what was going on with Logan + etc.

And I found something: the narrative in the book does not condemn or exalt either decision. Either decision would have been bad, no way around it.

One problem: that's not how books work.

The way the climactic decision-point works is that you make a personal sacrifice for the good, moral quality being extolled by the narrative. If the thing you sacrificed was, itself, considered good by the narrative, there would come a surprise twist that would mean the thing wasn't actually sacrificed, as a "reward" for making the selfless decision to uphold good and moral purity or whatever.

The problem with Logan's story is that neither option was presented as the 'moral, good' option. As Logan was leaving, Eir said "you have to do what is right," but beyond this, no indication is given to Logan which option is morally superior. You can? sorta? infer that of course the main conflict with the dragon is the preferred one. Rytlock and Eir's dialogue after Logan leaves also clarifies this.

But Logan himself was never presented with a clear moral dichotomy; he was merely given the trolley problem, which is bad however you slice it.

I bet Logan would have haters even if he'd stayed; Kryta would have fallen into disarray. The Ministry would have taken power. We'd have Caudecus in charge. Human/charr relations would heat up. We'd have the return of the White Mantle like snap, or else all-out anarchy. Humanity would be toast. Logan would get all the blame from the playerbase.

So in my rewrite of Edge of Destiny, I'm fixing the problem. I'm going to assign a clear moral status to each option, and make it clear where Logan stood on that moral issue when deciding. How did I pick which option was favored?

Easy. I look at the rest of ArenaNet's storytelling. Their centuries of lore and worldbuilding. The lessons of the other story arcs. Anet's message is consistently unity. Stand together. Stand strong. The races stand unified. The Orders stand unified. With unity, many impossible things [slaying an Elder Dragon] may be achieved.

So the preferred option, the morally good option according to the storytellers, was that Logan stay. Stand with his allies. Represent human/charr unity. Defeat an Elder Dragon.

And, somehow, Queen Jennah would survive, because love and protecting people is not morally bad. If Logan sacrificed the queen for the sake of the moral truth of the narrative, proving his selflessness and commitment to the ideal of the narrative, then the queen would survive to "reward" him for his virtuousness.

It doesn't seem in-character for Anet to write Jennah as a typical damsel-in-distress, hero-gets-the-girl type of story, BUT: he didn't. Logan DIDN'T choose the morally-good option.

Typical Corruption arc: hero begins with the ideal of the story (unity is good), then over time, some negative trait overtakes him. Greed, selfishness, over-protectiveness, whatever - and leads him to destroy everything he holds dear (Destiny's Edge; his broship with Rytlock; Snaff dying; Glint, hero of humanity, dying; Kralkatorrik surviving).

I think if the book had actually written Logan like this (with the base game of GW2 being his redemption arc), he would have a lot less hate. I think a lot of the hate comes from the fact that the Edge of Destiny narrative DIDN'T outright condemn Logan's actions. And even the base game is a bit vague.

Logan didn't get his comeuppance for his bad choices (beyond the queen ditching him a few years down the line, I suppose). That's where the hate comes from.

Because nuanced, flawed characters exist, and those are the best kind. I really like Logan's character. He's one of the most human characters in the game. I like that for him.

(Also, perhaps, some of the hate stems from the assumption that Logan was simping the whole time. I'd be fed up with him too, actually, if that were true. But the queen for sure returned his feelings. Logan was acting within the bounds of an established relationship.)

This has been

Character Study: Logan Thackeray (part II)

thank you for reading!

[vinetooth-prime]

Amira Holt

— Ascalonian/Canthan || Merc For Hire Priory Arcanist || ex-Mantle Commander, Pardoned by Her Majesty, Queen Jennah

"I don't get the magic thing. Weapons are more reliable but... I won't lie: it's pretty fuckin' sick when it works."

Born & raised in Divinity's Reach, Amira was a third-generation recruit of the Ministry Guard and inheritor of her family's career legacy. Always exceptionally skilled in her work—thanks largely to her father's constant drilling and pressure to excel—she served under several ministers, eventually (and often) working under Legate Minister Caudecus like the rest of her family.

With the reemergence of the White Mantle, led by Caudecus, tensions began to rise. Amira was locked in conflict with herself between her sense of duty, her sense of loyalty, and her sense of morality. By the attack on Divinity's Reach, Amira found herself trapped among the thick of it, innocent blood smeared on her hands from her own hesitation.

At the betrayal of her family and colleges, Amira deserted, though not in time to avoid succumbing to bloodstone poisoning consuming her right arm. When she came to, she was in a Krytan hospital with her soul fragmented (unknown to her at the time) and her arm had been amputated. Terrified of whatever sentencing she imagined to face, Amira made an escape and fled Kryta.

During her escape, her new aptitude for shadow magic began to become clear, and Amira pressed southward, eventually landing herself in Lion's Arch.

Homeless, alone, and afraid for her life, Amira turned to picking up any job offered her. This quickly lead to Amira floating day-to-day by rubbing elbows in the underground of LA, the apathy of a hard life wearing her down to take thefts, thug jobs, and even the occasional hit. She made few friends and many enemies, also chancing fate and taking opportunity hunting down bounty contracts from private postings, other governments, townships, and crews.

Through chance encounters and a string of lucky choices, Amira eventually met her doppelganger five years later. Avoiding her own death again, a shaky truce was made, which quickly lead to joining the same Priory Sector that employed her "twin".

This, in turn, lead to her joining the excursion to Cantha's reopening and enthusiastically reconnecting with "her roots", making a handful of strong friendships and facing the Dragonvoid threat near the epicenter.

In 1337AE, her arrest & pending execution by the Shining Blade was made public. A month later, she instead received a full pardon from the Crown for her crimes of high treason in exchange for the arrest of her father, murderer, and White Mantle Fanatic, Clarence Holt.

[hawkepockets]

[bluebudgie]

hi <3 question for the newest blonde long-haired prettyboy. how did he end up with justiciar deathmetal himself in his head? was he just born like that?

Hello hi! <3

Beware: unfinished character thoughts incoming.

So, no he wasn't born like that (though I find the idea hilarious), he's just a revenant.

How did it come to that? Well personally I'm a fan of the good old "get knocked out so hard your spirit takes a temporary trip to the mists".

The most obvious solution on how to knock out a white mantle member particularly hard for a prolongued amount of time would probably be this:

(Big fat bloodstone explosion.)

But after thinking about that for a while I realized this isn't really it considering I want him to be actively involved with the LS3 shenanigans. Which isn't really possible if you're out cold right at the start of it.

He's meant to go with the split group of white mantle that follow Caudecus, witness the attack on DR and later is among the few leftover mantle that chill/hide in the minister's Confessor's manor.

My initial plan was the "random background trash mob (aka my guy) gets overrun by the Commander and their party" but upon replaying the episode I was presented with two different options:

Option A)

The feared Commander's foot key.

I noticed there is a small group of white mantle directly behind the door the Commander uses their foot key on. And I mean. Come on. The joke writes itself at this point. Commander -> foot key -> door slam -> white mantle head. It was a powerful kick you see. Gets left in the rubble of the inevitable manor trashing that happens afterwards.

Option B)

There is a small group of white mantle chilling in the manor's library (or at least it's a room with many bookshelves). You don't really fight them until after the big Caudecus fight is done. The commander would still be the incapacitating force in that solution but I guess it's slightly less comical. In this option I like the idea of that group just sitting there in that room going "what the hell is all that noise on the corridor" lol.

At some point I'll decide on one of these. Or combine them into "guy gets hit by the door slam and withdraws to chill in the library with a massive headache until the Commander arrives" lol. We'll see.

So much about the getting knocked into the mists part, now for the why Justiciar Power Metal Thommis?

To be honest I don't know beyond "they're both white mantle" and "me the player stans Justiciar Thommis". Why DO you channel the mist legend you channel? I did actually consider distant family ties, but not sure I have the balls to commit to writing a canon character (that literally noone knows and noone cares about) into OC family. It would make for hilariously epic scolding from Thommis though. "Look at you! This is what our glorious bloodline has become! Face the foe with dignity you wet sponge of a warrior!" ....mh. Or something along those lines. That sounded funnier in my head.

Anyway I hope you enjoyed this incomprehensible rambling lol. Thanks for the ask <3

[0carkki0]

Do you consider any of the expansions or seasons to be asura focused? As far I see the personal story, seasons 1 and 2, and the first expansion were more about sylvari. That is understandable, since they were the newest race on tyria. Season 3 I think you could say was mostly about humans. We dealt with minister Caudecus and chased after a god the humans worship. Second expansion was definitely about humans. As well as the 4th season. Icebrood Saga was about the charr and norn and the last expansion was about humans again. There being expansions and seasons about the humans is understandable, since they are kind of continuation to the stories that started in Guild Wars 1, where you could only be a human. Icebrood Saga to be linked to the norn is understandable, and since charr and norn get along just fine, why not put them to deal with this thing together? Asura never got a season or expansion that would have focused on them in my opinion. It would be nice to have one, but what exactly would be that something be that would make the story about the asura culture? 

[ascalonianlightbringer]

I took Gwen through "The Accusation," the follow-up to "The Fall of Falcon Company."

I talked a little here about wishing human PCs could be something other than totally uncritical Queen Jennah stans (it's not like plenty of human NPCs don't have issues with her!). In my head, if not on the screen, Gwen's street origin/revolutionary crowd has left her with very little investment in the status quo and she theoretically opposes royalty and (especially) aristocracy. But she doesn't want Jennah replaced by another (worse) monarch and the person/people plotting against the queen are responsible for the death or suffering of Gwen's sister, so for now, okay.

Anyway. Gwen enters the royal court for the first time in her life to find Logan just arrived, and Queen Jennah attended by Minister Arton, Countess Anise (problematic fave!!!), and Minister Caudecus. Given that Caudecus is the ultimate villain of the noble storyline ... hmm.

We jump into the cut scene and actually see Jennah for the first time:

(Hope the throne room isn't drafty!)

The character design shows its age a bit, though I like the patterning on the gold overlay, and the neck piece. I also really like that she looks like a GW1 Krytan—I like that Ascalonians got less white in GW2, but Krytans got wayyyy lighter and I've always found it uncomfortable.

Right, back to the story. Jennah and Logan talk Very Normally about the treason and not about Logan's undying passion for her, and Gwen tells her about Tervelan's confession, without even naming the minister in question. Arton, who is elderly and seems pretty nice, immediately guesses the accused minister must be him and goes under voluntary house arrest.

Also, I want his robe.

Enter Anise, whom Gwen briefly met in the street arc. Anise was introduced back then as the head of the Shining Blade—the group that helped save Kryta back in GW1 and seems an elite bodyguard for Jennah these days—and apparently keeps track of everything, since she recalls that a random sergeant transferred out of Falcon Company, back in the day. Logan knows where the guy is currently patrolling, so he sends Gwen off to question the sergeant while he stays and protects Jennah.

You can actually talk to Jennah herself afterwards, deferentially. She's actually pretty upset because Arton has always served both her and her father with every appearance of loyalty (as I recall, not something that could be said of all her ministers). The charm response was the more neutral ("Captain Thackeray and Countess Anise will ensure your safety"), so I went with that.

Anise remarks that accusing a minister in front of the queen is not only bold, as she knew Gwen is, but fearless. Gwen says, "Not fearless. Determined." Sounds about right!

Caudecus also has a dialogue option, but just kind of whines about all the commotion. Yeah, I've got my eye on him.

Meanwhile, in conversation with Logan, Gwen grimly assures him that if this sergeant knows anything, she'll get him to talk.

That's my girl :)

[dhuumy-thicc]

i'll post more pics tomorrow (if i remember) but for now i will bless your feed with maid joko and maid caudecus... aka jocus

@diesvitae

[dragormir]

so, playing GW2, as you do. Collecting letters from Caudecus’ mansion (because I am a dirty packrat with a thing for collection achievements). Read all of them.

Literally the ONLY human-related story Caudecus has zero stake in is the Street Rat story. Two Blade Pete is a malicious enough dickhead that he somehow came up with the plot to poison the entire city of Divinity’s Reach on his own with zero outside influence.

I’m not sure what this says about Caudecus or Two Blade Pete, but there you go. Two Blade Pete got closer to bringing down Divinity’s Reach than Caudecus ever did. That’s gotta sting.

[skaald-of-the-hearth-fires]

DoF:RefTE chapter 12 - Master of Puppets

Dreams of Freedom: Reforging the Edge

Chapter twelve: Master of Puppets | (AO3 link)

More reports trickle in over the next two days, while Logan strives to shore up his weaknesses as Seraph Captain. He asks Groban to teach him the intricate file system he’d made for Seraph records, which thrills the older man.

Logan spends those two days with a whirlwind of information spinning through his brain - how to figure out what documents he’s actually looking for; how to find it and why; reports about the Saryrn sisters; reports about the wellbeing of Shaemoor; how to store records, files, and reports based on whether they’ll be needed again and what kind they are and whether they pertain more to this or that part of the structure; or what they do, or did do, or will do; memorizing key people (North, the name of Shaemoor’s mayor, is burned into Logan’s memory), the residences and jurisdictions of various ministers, nobles, and public servants and officials; the details of the chain of command; what the duties are of the three different lieutenants in Shaemoor, which are different at different times of day…

All in one ear and out the other, except for the sparse details about the Saryrn sisters - the Heroes of Shaemoor - who have continued to be the talk of the village, including the Seraph stationed there.

Heroes are just more interesting than files and paperwork, even if those heroes are just running half-a-dozen errands for frazzled villagers trying to recover their lives, or doing chores for shaken farmers, or calming frightened children. But even bandit activity is suspiciously down in the area. While officially, Lieutenant Francis puts it down to centaurs and bandits fighting it out with each other, he winks and mouths ‘Heroes of Shaemoor’ to Logan between meetings.

Logan does not like leaving Seraph responsibilities to civilians, but Francis is scrambling to keep up with things as it is, and Logan can’t delegate any more soldiers to his command. (Francis is somehow doing his paperwork properly, though…)

Logan also has multiple conferences with Jennah - both formal and informal - giving a fuller report to the queen and discussing the battle and its implications in greater detail than when he’d first awoken.

Logan keeps coming back to the civilians in Shaemoor. He bursts out once, lying in the queen’s chambers with his head in Jennah’s lap and letting her play with his hair, “it was so stupid. I shouldn’t have let forgetting North unbalance me like that! I shouldn’t have told them all was well.”

“Logan, Logan,” Jennah murmurs. “I know how important their support and our union is to you. You made a mistake - as well all do - and you paid for it. There is no need for guilt and shame now.”

“Have I paid for it, though?”

Jennah’s hand in his hair pauses. “That’s the big question, isn’t it? Only you can tell. Can we really pay for anything in this life?” Her hand resumes its movement, twining shoulder-length hair around her fingers.

Logan doesn’t speak for a long moment. Eventually he says, slowly, “no. Not this, anyway. Not when it was life and death. Just as Snaff’s death has weighed on my conscience these five years, so these deaths must.”

Jennah tilts her head, raven hair falling around her olive complexion and framing her thoughtful frown. “And is that different from the deaths of Seraph under your command? And what of Glint?”

Logan shudders. “I can’t even think about Glint. The oracle of the Flameseeker Prophecies… dead. But was it because of me? I’m… less sure of that. She may have died regardless. I spoke to Eir about it once - Glint died in the sky, torn apart by Kralkatorrik himself. And she would have faced that battle had Destiny’s Edge never arrived. It was her fight above ours. Her death grieves me, but my duty was to protect Snaff, and I failed. So did Eir, Caithe, and Zojja, but… I wasn’t even there.”

“Again, you did so because of your love and loyalty and devotion to me,” Jennah reminds him encouragingly, and Logan sighs.

But then, she looks away, hair falling over her face, and murmurs, almost whispering, “I don’t know that you should have. The death of Kralkatorrik would have been worth the loss of - well, of many more soldiers than died that day defending me. I would even have borne the responsibility of the civilians of Ebonhawke falling if it meant an Elder Dragon were not alive to terrorize Tyria.”

Logan frowns, resisting the urge to sit up. “How can you say that? So much has happened because of that - the ceasefire with the charr, long though it took, may not have happened otherwise. And Kralkatorrik has hardly terrorized Tyria since. I mean, the charr have had quite a handful with the dragon’s minions, but I have no love lost for them - nor for Rytlock.”

Jennah smiles. “True. But with the information you had that day? I would have preferred you to choose to stay where you could do the most good. Kryta would have survived.”

Logan does sit up, now, and puts his arm around her. “Not if you had died, my queen.” For once, the title is not a term of endearment - he means it in its fullest capacity. “The Chamber of Ministers would be in charge again, with Caudecus at the helm. Last time, before you came of age, he passed that restriction that so crippled the Shaemoor battle, and this time… if you died… with no heir… no doubt he would have continued to do such things. He’d never settle for peace with the charr, and he seems to have it out for anyone with a real concern for the people of Kryta - you, myself, Anise… half the Ministers of the Chamber… ”

“You could not have known I would die! Still cannot!”

“You said you were in danger,” Logan says simply.

~oOoOo~

“Captain?” Groban is standing in front of Logan’s desk. “I’ve received the reports from the scouts.”

Logan looks up irritably from piles of parchments, trying (and failing) yet again to decipher the inane system Groban had set up.

Sometimes he just can’t stand the man. Logan impatiently gestures for him to continue.

“It seems the centaurs came through the Shire of Beetletun and Queen’s Forest.”

Logan frowns. “The Ministry Guard patrol that area… “

Groban grimaces. “I know. Our men spoke to one of their captains and he confirmed it.”

“How did the centaurs get to Beetletun? Beetletun’s nearly surrounded by mountain!”

“I don’t know, Captain. Ministry Captain Lange, uh,” Groban flips open the report, “’wasn’t very open’ and he didn’t want Seraph scouting his territory. He apologized for the oversight and promised it wouldn’t happen again.”

“Of course,” Logan mutters. “Minister Caudecus can interfere with Seraph operations all he wants, but the minute I need intel for national security, the Ministry Guard is a closed book. By Kormir!”

“Here’s the scout’s report.” Groban hands it over and then salutes and heads to his desk.

Logan had often suspected the Ministry of treachery, but there had never been any proof and Logan could never do anything about it. Even now, he seems to be grasping at straws.

Logan drags a parchment and a quill over anyway.

Zephyr 6th, 1325 Minister Caudecus, The battle in Shaemoor whose fate was nearly decided by your pedantic technicalities apparently came about by centaurs that came through your territory. Your attempt to dictate Seraph tactics has resulted in massive loss of both Seraph and civilian life. Do you have anything to say for yourself? — Captain Logan Thackeray, Commander of the Seraph

Logan stares at the letter for a long moment, and then, with a thought and a spark of magic, annihilates it, blue fire bursting over his desk. Logan leans back, placing a hand over his face.

Groban glances up at the flare of heat and light, then goes back to his work.

Logan grumbles to himself and then leaves the office, heading toward the throne room.

“Ah, Captain Thackeray,” Jennah beams. She glances around at the occupants of the throne room; various civilians, courtiers, nobles, ministers, and foreign dignitaries are conversing or waiting their turn to speak to the queen. Her greeting to Logan carries to all ears. “The victor of our latest military skirmish.”

She has to put a positive spin on it publicly, of course. It’s not like anybody here will really listen to what a villager has to say. It sickens him a little, honestly.

Logan bows, then proceeds to the throne itself. “My queen,” he greets her, staring into the depths of her eyes. He could get lost in her eyes for hours. “May I borrow your lady-in-waiting for a discreet mission?”

“But of course, Captain,” Jennah smiles.

Logan nods and casts a glance at Countess Anise, who follows quickly.

Logan walks out to the Palace Gardens. ‘Discreet mission,’ of course, means ‘picking her brain for intel.’ At least, any she’s willing to share. “Can you ensure our privacy?”

“I can, Captain.” Anise’s scepter glows purple for a brief moment. “It is done. What ails you?”

Logan continues walking, hands clasped behind his back, tracing old paths through the gardens. “We both know what happened during the Battle of Shaemoor. I need to know why.”

Anise looks at him, considering. “You mean about our beloved Legate Minister.”

“Precisely.”

“I believe we all know that Caudecus is a conniving, traitorous scoundrel, Captain. For example, it is quite clear that he was working with the centaurs, and that he was primarily aiming for your death. In that, you thwarted him quite heroically, so congratulations.”

Logan glances at her. He is a valuable target - the Seraph are a valuable support to control. He hadn’t thought Caudecus would go to such lengths just for him, though. “Agreed. He would not benefit from Divinity’s Reach being overrun. Sending reinforcements only after I’d fallen would be a good plan to remove me. But do we have any proof of his misdeeds?”

Anise sighs. “Only at the expense of much deeper plots of the Shining Blade, I’m afraid.”

“Such as what?” Logan exclaims in frustration. Divinity’s Reach had been nearly overrun! He’d almost died!

“Why, that’s classified, Captain.”

“Divinity’s Reach itself was in danger! Is still, as long as he’s at large!”

“No.” Anise stops and looks Logan square in the eye - no easy feat at her height. “You were in danger. The moment you fell, the Minister would have been only too glad to allow an overwhelming wave of force to march out against the centaur invasion. Divinity’s Reach was never at risk.” She lets that sink in for a moment before proceeding onward, Logan reluctantly keeping pace.

Logan remains silent. He grasps the implications.

Anise spells it out anyway. “Tragic as your death might be, and the losses to the Seraph, that is quite different from Divinity’s Reach itself being in danger. Certainly not worth showing my hand to Kryta’s enemies just to remove a politician who will do nothing openly, and who has as much stake in the continued existence of our kingdom as does the queen.”

It’s simply hard to wrap his mind around that. Logan had spent hours - felt like years - worrying about the safety of his men, civilians, Divinity’s Reach, Kryta, and Jennah, all in the midst of a high-energy, high-stress, high-risk environment.

To have all that invalidated is… hard… but unavoidable; Anise is right. Regardless, Logan felt what he felt; his worry, while misplaced, was no less real. And he can use it to make himself a better Seraph Captain.

Anise continues gravely; “and as valuable as you are to the queen, Captain - personally, politically, and militarily - you are not worth that risk either.” She pauses, tilts her head at him, and a slight grin flashes across her face. “Besides, as you’ve proven, you are capable of weathering any storms Caudecus tries to throw at you regardless.”

No doubt she and Jennah had been giggling about him behind his back again. Logan sighs. Sometimes there are drawbacks to being a legendary hero.

~oOoOo~ Zephyr the 6th, 1325 Minister Caudecus, As I’m sure you’re aware, a large warband of centaurs attacked the Village of Shaemoor and laid siege to the Shaemoor Garrison, nearly threatening the capitol itself. Scouts following their tracks after the battle suggest that they marched directly through lands under your jurisdiction - along a patrol route assigned to the Ministry Guard, according to Captain Lange. Lives were lost in that attack, Minister. I must respectfully ask that you either whip your Ministry Guard into shape or get them out of my way. — Captain Logan Thackeray, Commander of the Seraph

Logan sighs. Caudecus has no reason to respond to his empty demands. Logan has no leverage with the Legate Minister, and any threats he could make would be empty.

There is nothing Logan can do about the Legate Minister.

He can only focus on what he can do - be the best Seraph Captain he can be for Jennah and her people.

He’d paid visits to all the civilian families who had lost loved ones in the defense of Shaemoor. He’d also visited the homes of those who had survived the battle, expressing his most heartfelt thanks for their selfless aid.

Now there are only a few awards left to bestow.

[brax-was-here]

Minister Caudecus is not impressed...

[anghraine]

pro patria, chapters 15-21

“Ascalonian, eh?”

“Our father was from Ebonhawke and our mother’s a Langmar,” I said, and he looked surprised all over again.

With a quick laugh, he said, “Then get out there, little sister, and make our ancestors proud.”

title: pro patria (15-21/?) stuff that happens: Althea and Logan take on Zamon in court, and Logan recruits Althea into a new investigation—one that touches her own family.

verse: Ascalonian grudgefic characters/relationships: Althea Fairchild, Lord Faren, Logan Thackeray, Countess Anise, Julius Zamon; Minister Caudecus, Ailoda Langmar, others; Althea & Logan, Althea & Faren, Althea & Deborah chapters: 1-7, 8-14

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FIFTEEN 1 I could always depend on Faren’s loyalty. But even beyond him, everyone I needed looked to be present. Cin Fursarai had arrived to complain about his business losses. Lady Madeline kept me at arm’s length, but indicated she still meant to testify. My friend Corone was ready to identify his stolen chalice, recovered from Zamon's mansion by the Seraph. Reth told me that he’d been fired from the Ministry Guard, but hoped I’d pull this off. “Just tell the truth,” I said, clasping his shoulder, “and Zamon won’t be able to do any more damage.” 2 Beneath my easy assurance—what I hoped looked like easy assurance—my blood pounded. This could go horribly wrong, and I had no clever tricks left, no clones to conceal myself among, nowhere to run or hide. I could only present the truth, and hope it convinced the ministers. I couldn’t look at my mother. Anise and Captain Thackeray quietly joined me on either side. “Proving Zamon’s guilt won’t be easy,” he said, “but I have every confidence in you. Now get out there and convict that maggot.” 3 I nodded, appreciating both the support and pressure, willing my pulse to slow. It didn’t seem particularly accommodating. “You look calm, but I can tell you’re worried,” Anise said softly. “Don’t be—you’ve done all of the necessary preparation and the facts are on our side. The case is yours to win.” “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said, and forced myself to breathe evenly. “Now I just have to win it.” 4 Zamon, of course, sneered and denied everything. “You’re a fool, you know. You’ll never convict me—I’m as innocent as a babe in arms.” I, too, had noticed the tendency of infants to try bribing extremely wealthy aristocrats. Gods, what an idiot. I shrugged. “Let’s see who the courts believe.” 5 “Hear ye!” called the judicial scribe, and the hubbub dutifully dwindled. “The trial of Minister Julius Zamon is hereby called to order, Legate Minister Caudecus presiding. Who stands for the prosecution?” “I do,” I said, and forced myself to add, “Lady Althea Fairchild.” Just before, the scribe had explained that I would be on trial for slander, if Zamon were acquitted. I thought of my family’s unstained name, and just repressed a shudder. “Your Honour,” I declared, “we have evidence proving Minister Zamon conspired against the citizens of Divinity’s Reach!” 6 I couldn’t turn back now. “He abused his authority to commit thievery, murder, and treason. We will present incriminating documents and sworn testimony from respected members of the community, including the sister of the accused!” Madeline blanched, but met her brother’s glare steadily. Minister Caudecus studied me for several long moments. Then he turned to Zamon and said, “The prosecution seems to have prepared quite a compelling case.” My head swam with relief. 7 “Minister Zamon, can you refute these accusations?” Zamon simply laughed, and all relief faded. He was an idiot, but one who knew his own interests. Well, sort of—all my witnesses now eyed him with intense dislike, even Fursarai. “Refute?” he said scornfully. “Why bother? My lord Caudecus”—and now he stood upright, back to his old arrogant height—“in accordance with the most ancient tenets of Krytan law, I invoke my right to trial by combat!”

SIXTEEN

1 I didn’t even have time to hope that Minister Caudecus would restore some sense of order to the proceedings; he immediately accepted the invocation and announced that Zamon would have to nominate a second, and I both a principal and a second. “I will be the principal, Legate Minister,” I said promptly. Caudecus granted a short recess to choose my second—my second, in a trial by combat, as if we’d jumped back to the days of the guild wars. I hadn’t really meant this when I hoped for it a few days ago, I’d meant—I’d been angry, frustrated, but I thought of it as a long-dead custom, not a possibility. What did prowess in battle have to do with truth or justice? Well, I thought, at the least it could be an outlet for justice; I felt not the slightest doubt of his guilt, and very little doubt of defeating him in combat, backed by a decent second. The only difficulty was finding one. 2 In fact, I had no difficulty narrowing the field to possible candidates. As soon as I turned about and considered the gathered audience, I dismissed virtually everyone. There was Reth, who had been a Ministry Guard; he must have some fighting skill. There was Anise, a better mesmer than I’d ever be. Captain Thackeray, of course, if he really meant what he’d said. There was even Faren, who had (however ridiculously) held his own in the bandit caves. But which? 3 I drifted among my friends, not wanting to give Zamon and his massive Norn retainer any chance at preparing themselves. Fending off their inquiries after the case, I saw Faren waving his arm and swivelled about to reach him. Instead, I nearly slammed into Zamon himself. With one of his most unpleasant smiles, he said, “It’s not too late to abandon this farce. Recuse yourself and I’ll see to it your honesty is rewarded. You don’t want to face the alternative.” Very quietly, I said, “Don’t threaten me, Minister.” 4 I ducked into the crowd before he could try anything else—I wouldn’t put much past him—and strode up to Faren. “Ready for action, old friend!” he said brightly. Tension faded from my shoulders and temples, for all that I’d resolved nothing. Faren could be theatrical, posturing, careless, but somehow he always seemed to soothe my nerves. And no woman could ask for a truer friend. “I’m sure you are,” I told him, with a quick embrace. To my surprise, he returned it tightly, his sharp chin digging into my scalp. 5 Faren released me, looking nervous and awkward in a way I hadn’t seen in years. “And let me add,” he said, his voice far removed from his usual vain cheerfulness, “I’m truly flattered you’re even considering me as your second.” Oh. Well, I was, though I hadn’t thought of it as flattery, just pragmatics—but perhaps that was all the more flattering in its way, especially for someone like Faren. In all probability, I wouldn’t choose him, but I was touched anyway. “Glad to know you’re willing and able,” I replied. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to decide.” 6 I tracked down Anise—or rather, Anise’s vibrant hair, but happily, the rest of her remained attached to it. “Trial by combat?” she said, with all the incredulity that I felt. “Who’d have thought it? I’m surprised Zamon even knows it’s an option. There hasn’t been one in over fifty years … or, at least, that’s what I’ve been told.” I shot her an amused glance; she’d been a family friend in my mother’s youth as well as mine, if not before. “Then we ought to make this as memorable as possible,” I said. 7 Captain Thackeray was the easiest to find; he stood a head above everyone else and was encased in heavy armour, with a bright sword strapped to his side. He grinned at my questioning glance. “As a Seraph captain,” he told me, “I can’t really jump around saying, ‘pick me, pick me!’ But I can certainly think it.” I laughed. That resolved the first question. More soberly, he said: “I’m ready to go if you need me.” ---------------------------------------------------------------

1) the guild wars: a bloody war between actual guilds that took place shortly before the first game, Guild Wars: Prophecies.

2) Anise’s vibrant hair: Anise has very long, beautiful red hair.

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SEVENTEEN

1 “There’s nothing I’d like better than to personally dish out some of the punishment Zamon deserves,” added Captain Thackeray. I could easily believe it of him—both the sentiment and the approach. As I left him and moved among very-definitely-not-nominees, I did my best to calculate my chances without betraying any sign of doing so. Reth seemed to be some sort of brawler, eager to rough up a traitorous noble with his own hands. Captain Thackeray, between his bulk and his armour, could effectively shield me and absorb Zamon’s and Eitel’s attacks while I lashed out spells. Faren was—Faren. And Anise would duplicate the confusion I depended upon, multiply it into mass chaos. 2 I returned to the scribe, expression carefully blank, the observers and guests staring in near-silence—all but my candidates, whom I’d quietly informed. Zamon and Eitel-the-Unlovable looked guarded, but unprepared for any specific approach. “Have you decided who will serve as the prosecution’s second?” asked the scribe. In a loud, clear voice, I said, “I’ve chosen Captain Thackeray.” Logan already knew, but he still seemed like he might nearly punch his gauntleted fist into the air. He, Anise, and I turned cheerful smiles on Zamon, who eyed us all with intense dislike. He didn’t look afraid, but he didn’t look relieved, either—whatever he thought of me, he must know it wouldn’t be an easy fight against a captain of the Seraph and a mage. 3 “An interesting choice,” remarked Minister Caudecus, almost dourly. What had Logan ever done to him? “If Lord Zamon proves victorious, he is innocent. The case is thrown out and these charges against him may not be brought again. If you win, then Zamon is found guilty of the crime.” “I understand,” I replied. I understood that Zamon was going to rot in prison or the grave. 4 In the grave, as it happened. Captain Thackeray and I planned our approach with a few words and expressions; he would rush forward, keep them off me, and I’d make sure he had a dizzying array of clones and illusions alongside him to keep things interesting, between shooting Zamon and Eitel full of chaos magic. It worked beyond my most fanciful dreams. Eitel went down quickly; he seemed to have no resistance to my magic, and no interest in dodging it. Zamon screamed that we were nothing—really, who did he think he was?—and then that our skill didn’t matter. I only drew near at the end, when Zamon lay groaning and wounded under Logan’s sword. “I only … did … as I was told …” he mumbled, and died. 5 What? Now we had some other scheming traitor out there? “Victory is declared!” announced Minister Caudecus, with absolutely no enthusiasm. “According to the dictates of Krytan law, Minister Zamon is found guilty.” Captain Thackeray—Logan—guessed that Caudecus disliked the proceedings purely for the disruption of normal order, not that it was our doing, but Anise shook her head. “How do you think Zamon knew about the ancient law in the first place?” she murmured. Logan and I glanced sharply at her. 6 “If Zamon won the battle,” she continued, “he’d be declared innocent—no more investigation. Now he’s guilty, but he’s also dead. No loose ends.” Of course—but Caudecus himself? I could hardly believe it, and Logan looked shaken as well. Anise didn’t move closer, but the sudden intensity in her face made it feel as if she had. “Never underestimate Minister Caudecus,” she told us. 7 Anise slipped away, always quick to avoid unintended notice, and Logan gave a brisk nod. “Go and celebrate a well-earned victory,” he said. “I was genuinely hoping for a conviction based on a preponderance of the evidence … but this works, too.” That was Logan, all right. The ambivalent expression on his face then vanished, replaced by an unusually cheerful resolve. I’d expected him to return to his own business, like Anise; instead, he gave me a comradely clap on the shoulder that nearly knocked me to my knees. Then, Logan—Captain Thackeray of Divinity’s Reach, heir of Gwen Thackeray, hero of too many battles to count—looked straight at me, a woman who’d been indistinguishable from any young noble until a few months ago, and said, “I’m starting to think there’s no problem we can’t solve if we tackle it together.”

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1) Eitel-the-Unlovable: Zamon’s retainer is a Norn, a member of a species of giant, vaguely Scandinavian shapeshifters. 

--------------------------------------------------------------- EIGHTEEN 1 “Now get some rest,” Captain Thackeray ordered. “There’s sure to be more work for us soon.” “Thanks, Captain,” I said, at once overwhelmed and determined. “I’ll be ready.” The compliments didn’t end there. Anise half-jokingly offered me a place among the queen’s lawyers; Corone laughed and said that he’d be sure not to run afoul of the captain and me; Lord Benjamin lit up when I suggested he should join the government himself; even the scribe said she was impressed with the trial. Truthfully, I told her, “I just hope that such proceedings remain rare.” 2 Faren, of course, swept a low, graceful bow, and then pretended to nearly swoon. “Another fine day’s work—on your part, that is,” he said. “Frankly, I’m exhausted just watching you.” I managed not to snicker, but only because I stood among the pillars and arches of the Ministry itself, not to mention under the eyes of some of the most powerful figures in Kryta. With a grin, he went on, “I hope you know I’ll be toasting your success later this evening, with damsels yet to be determined.” “I know,” I said dryly, and raised a brow. “Just spare me the details, and I’ll toast you for your discretion.” 3 Gladly leaving Faren to his own devices, I made my last farewells to everyone still loitering around the Ministry. To my relief, I had no immediately pressing duties, although Captain Thackeray—after congratulating me again and urging me to celebrate my victory—assured me that he’d be in touch. I didn’t doubt it, but for now, the best celebration seemed sleeping for three days. It wasn’t quite three days, but I did ignore everything else to crawl into my bed for hours, only waking for meals and a few dimly-remembered conversations. When I finally emerged, I had to assure my mother, “I’m not hurt, Mama, just tired.” Mother looked at me with anxious eyes—only more anxious after, well, watching me duel another minister to the death while unable to do anything, and while her other daughter lay dead and probably mutilated in some lost grave. I hated that she’d seen it, hated the fear that lived in her eyes these days, but more than that, I hated the idea of turning my back on our people. 4 After I spent a few days with my mother, alternately sleeping and consoling her, I headed back into Queensdale. I didn’t have a clear destination in mind, but I’d often heard Deborah talk about how people out there needed more help than the Seraph could supply, and how much more she wished she could do. I meant to help wherever I could, in whatever ways I could. Wherever I could took some peculiar shapes over the next few weeks. I made my way to Claypool and helped the Seraph captain there train the militia; in return, she wrote frankly, I wasn't sure someone of your reputation would stick around to help my militia. I'm impressed and honoured that you did. I re-read the letter four times, not smiling, just—I hadn’t expected either the surprise or the gratitude; if anything, I counted it an honour to serve the Seraph. 5 Then there was a lumber mill under perpetual threat from a) skritt and b) extremely oversized wasps. I helped the labourers fight them off as often as I could, and received another letter, though it took awhile to find its way to me—probably because it was addressed simply to “Ly Althea of Rurikton.” The leader of the workers was Ascalonian, and had been more deeply impressed that I had a home in Rurikton than that the home was a manor. Your reputation, she wrote, doesn’t exaggerate your heroism and skill. All of us at the lumber mill thank you for your time. That time, I did smile. I wasn’t patrolling Queensdale for praise, but neither was I so pure that I didn’t like getting it. 6 When I heard that Claypool had fallen under attack from centaurs, I returned as quickly as I could manage, and helped fight them off. These seemed even fiercer than the centaurs at Shaemoor, but somehow it was easier to drive them off. The centaurs were shaken, one of the Seraph told me. “Demoralizing the enemy is key,” he went on, “and you made that happen.” I’d helped, no more; but if my help had turned the tide for Claypool, I was glad to serve. Perhaps Seraph Elmder saw that, because he clapped my shoulder just as Captain Thackeray would have. “Thank you, soldier,” he said. 7 I ended up wandering all the way to Beetletun, doing everything from convincing children to work at their chores, to fighting off even hardier, more aggressive centaurs, to slipping inside their encampments to sabotage their equipment and free their slaves. There were pests in the village to eradicate, and farms throughout the shire to protect or salvage. And I fought alongside Seraph at their outposts, which I preferred to just about anything else. It wasn’t just Deborah or Logan; as I saw just how much the Seraph needed to do, and how thin their resources ran, I’d come to admire them for their own sake. I’d never met a Seraph I didn’t respect. Of course, there was Deborah’s memory; wherever her spirit might be, I hoped she knew what my life had become. I might not be much for taking orders from anyone I hadn’t chosen, but I was following her steps as closely as I could. NINETEEN 1 I was in Godslost Swamp, helping historians fight off nightmares from the Underworld—long story—when a letter from my mother arrived. It had been written weeks earlier, passed from courier to courier along the increasingly dangerous route, then left at the last outpost until someone brave enough to dare the swamp delivered it to the Priory camp. Thankfully, it contained nothing urgent, only accounts of Ministry machinations, the doings of my friends—she dedicated an entire paragraph to Faren, who appeared to be doing a great deal of nothing—and some visits from her own friends. Anise seemed in poor spirits, she wrote, or rather, irritated ones. Apparently, that nice Captain Thackeray has a bee in his bonnet (can you imagine him with a bonnet?) over something entirely disconnected from his duties in Divinity’s Reach. My brows rose; that didn’t sound like him at all. Mother concluded with an unsubtle wish that she would see me again soon, or at least hear from me, and I winced; although I dutifully wrote whenever I had paper and couriers available, this had not been one of those times—and if she’d known where I was, she would have good reason to fear for me. 2 Frankly, after fighting a massive, hellish nightmare creature that took a good hundred adventurers to bring down, home sounded decidedly appealing. I could soothe my mother, see my friends, get some decent meals and rest, and put on unstained clothes—and check in with ‘that nice Captain Thackeray.’ (Mother’s feelings towards him had always been vaguely positive, but seeing him protect me in trial by combat had raised them to eternal devotion.) I didn’t bother with a letter; thanks to some of my favourite spells, I could travel faster by myself than any series of couriers. And she plainly did not expect an actual arrival; I could surprise her this way. Sure enough, Mother gave a strangled shriek when she saw me in the street, and disregarded the curious people around us, the state of my clothes, everything, to rush forward and clutch me to her. I would never turn back from the path I had set myself upon—but though I cared for many people and places, I didn’t think I could ever love anything so much as my family. 3 Doubtfully, a woman I’d never met said, “Isn’t that the hero of Shaemoor?” Another replied, “No, it’s Minister Ailoda.” We ignored them to make our way back to the manor. To her credit, it took Mother a good five minutes to wrinkle her nose. “What have you been doing? Let me draw you a bath, darling.” I was only too happy to remove the accumulation of dirt and swamp water I’d never quite managed to scrub off at the Seraph outposts—but I had no intention of telling her just what I’d been doing. 4 I emerged from the bath with a pleasant sense of pristine cleanliness, and a silk robe that had never felt finer against my skin. After I dressed (the clothes freshly laundered, because Mother thought of everything), I supplied a severely edited version of my adventures since she’d last seen me. Even that much was enough to make her shudder. “I know you’re following your conscience, but—” “I am,” I said firmly. I did spend the next few days with her, amusing her with stories of (safe) quirks and mishaps, letting her show me off at the Ministry, staying beside her during the regular courtesy calls she received. Then I headed to Seraph Headquarters. 5 When I walked through the doors, Logan’s face lit up. He abruptly concluded the discussion he’d been involved in and strode right over to me. “Good to see you again, my friend,” he said, looking so pleased that I couldn't bring myself to doubt it. “You have excellent timing!” I had no idea what tangential preoccupation could have irritated Anise. But nothing, nothing, could have prepared me for what he said next. “Have you ever heard of Falcon Company?” 6 For a moment, my mind went entirely blank. The voices around us faded, my ears ringing. My face and hands felt cold, but my lungs burned. “Of course I have,” I said, proud that my voice remained even. “One of the most decorated units of Seraph, wiped out by a centaur ambush.” Taking a deep breath, I added, “My sister was a soldier in that command.” Captain Thackeray looked stricken. 7 “Your sister?” he exclaimed, clearly oblivious. Falcon Company had fallen under a different command, I told myself, unrelated to his own—that was why Anise disapproved of his interest—and that interest was frankly more than I would have expected. Still. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, turning somber. “I—I didn’t know.” I nodded, goodwill restored, and remembered myself enough to wonder: if he hadn’t heard about my connection to the Falcons, and didn’t have one of his own, why was he asking me about them? And why now? TWENTY 1 Gravely, Logan said, “You'll be even more interested in this information than I thought.” The chill lying over my skin flashed hot. Information? What—maybe—was— He lowered his voice, more conscious of our surroundings than I could manage. “Scouts in the Queen’s Forest discovered pages from an old journal. They were apparently written by Willem Harrinton, a member of Falcon Company.” A member of Deborah’s company. 2 Had Harrinton known something? Oh, he must have, for Captain Thackeray to consider it ‘information.’ He must have written it down. But— I waited, some approximation of composure returning; I could hear the low murmurs and pen-scratchings of Seraph business around us, though Logan had drawn us away into a corner where we wouldn’t be easily overheard. “The writing on the pages is rough,” he went on, “hasty. But it describes survivors of the battle taken prisoner by the centaurs.” 3 Damn composure, anyway. “Survivors?” I breathed, feeling the rush of blood all through my veins. Survivors. No body, no presence at the grave, nothing—was it possible? I’d never imagined it. Never dared imagine it. “My sister could be alive?” 4 Desperate hope sparked through me, and I seized his arm without regard to the layers of plate over it. “Logan, you’ve got to let me investigate!” I burst out. No, no, I had to stay calm, force myself into some semblance of self-control; friend or not, I’d be left out if I seemed too overwrought for the investigation. And I couldn’t sit back while others took on the danger, while Debs perhaps laboured under centaurs’ whips (great Kormir, I couldn’t even imagine it), while—I had to find out for myself. In a quieter voice, I insisted, “I need to know what happened to Deborah.” Instead of eyeing me doubtfully, as I half-expected, Logan gave me a sympathetic smile. “I thought you’d feel that way.” 5 “Let’s update my records,” he said briskly, reverting to his usual determined competence, “and then you can head to Eldvin Monastery and speak to Captain Tervelan.” I nodded, aiming for the same level of professionalism. “Though he’s been promoted to Captain of Queensdale, Tervelan once commanded Falcon Company,” said Logan. “He might be able to tell us more.” I remembered the abrupt letter we’d received, simply signed J. Tervelan. Now I was going to see its author at last. “Good,” I said. 6 Logan led me over to his desk, which was covered in papers and parchment in various conditions, along with the Seraph roster that I’d seen before. “Falcon Company’s records were largely destroyed by centaur raids,” he explained. “I’m trying to get a complete roster.” He dipped a quill in ink, then gave me a quick glance. “Your sister was of Krytan descent?” I lifted my chin. “Ascalonian, sir,” I said, “and proud of it.” 7 His eyes widened, a smile creeping back. But he confined himself to an indistinct noise of approval, dragging his finger down the faded roster until he reached Fairchild, Deborah. My chest hurt, but something in me thrilled at the quiet addition of Asc alongside her rank, which I affirmed, and age and place of birth, which I supplied. After he cleaned and capped the quill, Logan shook his head. “Ascalonian, eh?” “Our father was from Ebonhawke and our mother’s a Langmar,” I said, and he looked surprised all over again. With a quick laugh, he said, “Then get out there, little sister, and make our ancestors proud.”

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1) Ascalonian, sir, and proud of it: the line that inspired the whole fic! It solely (as far as I know) determines Deborah’s appearance in the cinematics, but Deborah and the PC being proud Ascalonians seemed something that would profoundly influence them, given the dynamics at play in GW1/Eye of the North/GW2.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- TWENTY-ONE 1 I nearly tripped on my way from the Seraph headquarters to Dwayna’s gate. A Charr was strolling through the plaza right before headquarters, easy as you please—a Charr, in Divinity’s Reach! It looked like he’d come from the gate to Lion’s Arch, which was … legal, but I hadn’t seen any here in years, and—and he couldn’t mean anything good. I paused long enough to glance back suspiciously; was he scouting out weaknesses? “That Charr is back,” someone said behind me, not bothering to lower her voice. “He makes me nervous.” She wasn’t the only one. 2 But I had more important concerns than Charr, at least right now. Logan and Anise could protect Divinity’s Reach; I had Deborah’s fate to uncover. I jumped from waypoint to waypoint, stumbling out of the last with a few copper for the gatekeeper and the breath nearly knocked right out of me. But I recovered after only a moment, and with a burst of concentration, took off running towards Eldvin Monastery. I slowed down as I approached, letting the air cool the sweat and flush on my skin, then wiping it with a cleansing handkerchief that I returned to my belt pouch. I might not be Faren, but I didn’t care to confront unpredictable circumstances at anything less than my best. I brushed a few blades of grass off my sleeves and, after a single deep breath, marched up to the main entrance. 3 The Seraph at the gates to the monastery clearly recognized me, by either description or reasoning. They immediately straightened up, and one of them—who seemed to be the leader—saluted me. “The hero of Shaemoor is finally here, everybody!” she cried. To me, she said, “The captain’s expecting you—he’s up on the wall.” Well, that should make things easier. “Captain Thackeray sent a message that you were going to visit,” she said, and looked me over with evident, un-Seraph-like fascination, her eyes wide. “We’re all very excited to meet the hero of Shaemoor.” 4 She was, at least. I thanked her and got directions to the captain, then paused. I had no way of knowing what any of them had seen or guessed, if anything. “Have you heard of the Screaming Falcons?” I asked. “Of course!” she said. “They’re legendary, especially around here—the best company in the Seraph, but then … well, you know.” Yes, I knew. 5 “Did you ever meet any of them?” I pressed. “They were before my time,” she said, sobering, “but I’ve heard stories about that week, laying out the bodies for burial.” Her jaw tightened. “They say some of the bodies were missing. It sickens me to think what the centaurs did with them.” My chest clenched, a sick, sour taste rising in my throat. I swallowed it down and replied, “Me, too.” 6 Inside the walls, the abbey brothers and sisters seemed cheerful enough, concerned first with their ale and secondly with their faith. But I quickly realized that the first Seraph’s enthusiasm was not shared by all. “Another ‘hero,’ huh?” said a lieutenant. “I’ve met your kind before—you’re brave enough, inside city walls.” I thought of saying I don’t have a kind, but I couldn’t quite believe it. At any rate, he clearly hadn’t met a map if he thought Shaemoor lay within city walls. “Out here,” he added, tone even grimmer, “you’re just a walking corpse waiting for your time to come.” 7 “Stiffen your spine,” I said coolly. “You’re representing queen and country. Petulance doesn’t befit your station.” Lieutenant Gordon laughed. “Queen and country? Yes, they do deserve better—better than this.” At once irritated, offended, and peculiarly impressed, I told him, “Keep that in mind.”

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1) the gate to Lion’s Arch: there’s a sparkly Asura gate/portal to Lion’s Arch (the central city of the whole game) from the human home district of Divinity’s Reach.

2) jumped from waypoint to waypoint: waypoints are location markers that let you teleport between them for a price (varying by distance between them). 

[pocket-raptor]

I'm going Deadeye and sniping Caudecus just so I don't have to be within 50 feet of him

@chaz-serir