8 from the artifact list c:
Artifacts of Thedas prompt list
............Well, this one got away from me.
8. A basket full of embrium and blood lotus
“Halt!” a voice calls.
Neilar freezes in his tracks.
“Hands up!”
He raises his hands.
“Alright, now turn around. No funny stuff, or this arrow - Inquisitor?”
“...Hello, Harding.”
Scout Harding lowers her bow, shaking her head in dismay.
“What are you doing sneaking around your own camp? I almost shot you just now.”
Neilar lets out a nervous laugh.
“Well… Thanks for not doing that?”
She shrugs.
“You’re welcome. Now - maybe that’s none of my business, but it looks like you’re heading out.”
He nods.
“Alone.”
After a moment of hesitation, he nods again.
“I wouldn’t recommend that,” Harding says. “I just got a report of a possessed bear in the area - well, at least we think it’s possessed; all we really know is that it’s large and angry and it glows. Either way, it looks like a bad way to go.”
“I’ll keep an eye out,” Neilar says.
Harding gives him a long look. For a moment, they stand in awkward silence; then, she sighs.
“Alright, let’s go. If you need to go somewhere, I’ll escort you.”
That doesn’t really align well with his plans; Neilar tries to explain that to her, but Harding remains adamant. In a last-ditch effort, he asks:
“Aren’t you on duty right now?”
“Actually, I just got off duty,” she says cheerfully. “I was just about to go to my tent when I saw someone stalking away from the camp.”
The lake is a short hike away from the camp. Neilar had noticed that particular spot on the shore a while ago and always meant to go back to it, but never did; there was always some distraction, or they were running short on time, or something else of the sort.
It’s a nice place, even at night; there’s the quiet sound of water lapping at the shore and the rustle of tall grass as it sways in the wind, and a rock outcropping that can hide them from hostile eyes.
“So,” Harding says, “What are we looking for?”
“Embrium and blood lotus.”
That’s why he remembered the spot; it has an abundance of both. When the requisitions officer asked him to keep an eye out for these plants while traveling, he knew immediately where to go.
Harding gives him another long look, even more puzzled than the first one.
“...That’s it?”
Neilar feels stupid - well, he’s been feeling stupid ever since his private walk stopped being private, but it gets worse now.
“That’s it,” he says.
He expects a retort, or at least questions - but, to his surprise, the scout just shrugs and pulls out a small hunting knife.
“Well, alright. Let’s get the embrium first; things get… weird with blood lotus, so we should probably leave it for last.”
And they get to work.
The embrium stalks are thick and sturdy, especially right under the blooms, and it takes some sawing to separate the flowers from the stems. It’s frustrating at first, but it’s not his first time harvesting embrium, and the muscle memory kicks in soon enough. Once it does, it becomes a familiar ritual of sawing and cutting and setting the bloom aside and looking for the next one, keeping an ear out for anything approaching, but not really thinking about anything. Just doing.
Once they have enough, they lay the blooms out on a cloth Neilar had brought with him and roll it up, careful not to crush the flowers.
“Now the blood lotus,” Harding says. “You have a scarf on you?”
Neilar nods.
“You’ll want to wrap that around your face. It’s because - ”
“The sap, I know,” he says. “It messes with your head when it evaporates.”
Harding laughs.
“Exactly. Did you know there was some noble who used these as decorations for her party? Hundreds of freshly cut blood lotus flowers. All of the guests survived, but one lady did lose some teeth.”
That gets a laugh out of him as well.
“Sylaise, I should have known someone did that. You know - I heard about a hunter that got high on blood lotus and almost walked off a cliff - she said the trees told her it was safe.”
“Oh? Well, I heard that it made a guy think he was a squirrel for five hours.”
“I heard that it was used in warfare.”
“We use it for potions too,” Harding reminds him.
“No, I mean the plant itself,” Neilar says. “It’s an old story about a clan that I think doesn’t exist anymore. They were camped by a lake, just like this one, and one day the scouts brought news that humans from a nearby village are coming to sack the camp that night. Come nighttime, the clan members abandoned the camp with their valuables and hid, but before they left, they cut every blood lotus plant on the shore and left a huge stack of them in the middle of the camp. When they returned in the morning, the blood lotus was scattered everywhere, and there was no trace of the attackers - except for one, floating facedown in the water, dead. The rest of them were never seen again.”
“...Wow,” Harding says after a moment. “You know, I bet you’re good at telling ghost stories.”
Neilar laughs.
“Thanks. This one is a real story, though.”
“Well, it does have a spooky ending. Still - I’ve got to give it to the clan, that was resourceful. What happened to them?”
“I don’t know,” Neilar admits. “Could be disease, or another sacking, or a natural disaster. Sometimes a clan just… doesn’t show up for the Arlathvhen anymore. That’s a meeting of the clans that happens every once in a while,” he adds, foreseeing the question.
The acidic, yet sweet scent of blood lotus sap fills the air as they work in silence, harvesting the plants as quickly as possible and trying not to breathe too deeply, even with the scarves covering their faces.
Cold water laps at their boots and their hands. The stalks are thin and slippery, difficult to hold, especially when the cold begins to numb their fingers, but they finish the task without much trouble. No suspicious sights or sounds around, either; at some point a small animal skitters through the grass to Neilar’s left, but that’s about it.
The walk back to camp somehow feels longer; maybe exhaustion is beginning to set in, or maybe the cloth-wrapped blood lotus in the basket he’s holding is getting to him. When they finally cross the perimeter, Neilar feels as though he could fall asleep right then and there, on the ground - a stark contrast to the way he felt before.
“I’ll leave that in requisitions,” Harding says, taking the basket from him.
“Thanks. Sorry for keeping you from your rest for so long.”
“Well… I wasn’t thrilled at first, but actually, it was fun. You know, I forget sometimes that you also were a scout, before all that.”
Neilar can’t help but feel a sense of pride - Harding, one of the best scouts he’s ever known, acknowledging him means a lot - but also, there’s something bittersweet about that were.
It’s the exact kind of feeling he was trying to forget by going to that lake.
“I miss it,” he says suddenly, surprising himself more than anyone else. “Back in the clan, fighting… wasn’t really my job. I mean, we all trained, and we fought when we had to, but our main role was to travel ahead of the clan and check that the path is safe. When the clan was camped, we would stand guard, hunt and forage. And, no matter what I was doing… I felt like I was fulfilling my purpose. Like I was born to do just that.”
“I think I know what you mean,” she says. “Sometimes, I’m on the path and it just… feels right.” Harding tilts her head aside slightly, as if she just understood something. “...Is that what you were trying to find out there?”
“I think so,” Neilar says.
“Did you find it?”
“I… don’t know. But I know that I haven’t forgotten it yet, and I think that’ll do for now.”
“Good! Because I’m way too sleepy for another venture,” Harding says with a laugh. “Speaking of which, you better go sleep. There aren’t that many hours left to the morning, but I think you can still get something decent out of it - if you hurry.”
She’s right. When Neilar gets to his tent, sleep comes quickly - and, though there isn’t a lot of it, it’s the best he’s had in a while.
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