He'd heard word of the upcoming trip his father was to make from a servant first, then his brother.
A visit to Orzammar, the last and finest city of the dwarves seemed like a grand adventure, indeed.
All of the good adventures usually took place without him in attendance, tucked well away from anything that might be interesting, or dangerous, but always finding Cailan instead.
Prince Alistair of Ferelden sighed, thinking once again, about how unlucky he was to be the second son of a king.
Technically, he was a prince, though to his mind, not one of much importance. That dubious honor went to his elder brother, Cailan, who would inherit the crown.
It was Cailan that got to do everything, even though Alistair knew not all of it was fun. Although when it wasn't, Alistair usually had to join in.
They had expectations of them both, and for Alistair there was less learning to dance with Antivan beauties or trips to Nevarra in their father's stead and more martial training,
though he really didn't mind his place as a soldier.
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