On the Birds of Starkhaven

[nebulousmistress]

The Birds of Starkhaven have the utter run of the city. This breed of chicken is known for its long luxurious feather coat, iridescent white feathers the color of moonlight upon snow. Nevermind most natives of Starkhaven have never seen snow in their lives, the idea of it is what they’re referencing. The white feathers of these birds shimmer in anything less than full sunlight, shining with blues and purples and pale reds like the color of Thedas’ twin moons Luna and Satina.

These chickens are also property of the crown. Every single one. The ruling family maintains full ownership of every single bird. Forcibly taking one from the city is theft against the crown. Imprisoning one in a coop or henhouse for personal use is likewise theft against the crown. Killing one is unthinkable, a grisly task granted to only a select few who cull elderly birds and have them rendered down into the thickest, richest chicken broth known in all of Thedas’ cuisine.

But the eggs…

The eggs are free and meant to stay free. The eggs are still property of the crown. It is the crown’s decision that the eggs are to be collected and distributed freely to the citizens of the city. It all stems from a story about Andraste.

In this story, Andraste and her party were cut off from the rest of her armies during a terrible snowstorm. The voice of the Maker came to her, directing her further into the mountains, through the cutting winds and blinding snow for there He would keep her safe. She followed, her party following her until she came to a cave in the side of the mountain. Within this cave she found a bird, one white bird. A rooster with long luxurious white feathers that shone with all the colors of moonlight upon fresh snow. This rooster sat upon a nest of eggs, though how a rooster had laid these eggs remained a mystery. At first, Havard warned Andraste not to touch these eggs for everyone knows rooster eggs are poisonous things that hatch into cockatrices. But the Maker had spoken to her and assured her, these eggs would be different for He had willed it so.

Andraste and her party ate well that night, bolstered upon the rooster’s eggs as they hid in the cavern and waited out the storm. Yet that storm blew for an entire season, blood eclipse to blood eclipse, the snow trapping them in this cave high in the mountain while her armies languished in the valley below under Maferath’s command. He still knew then the power of the Maker and trusted Andraste when she’d said she would return. So from blood eclipse to blood eclipse he waited in the valley as his army grew restless and doubtful.

It was the night before the snows lifted and the blood eclipse turned the seasons that the Maker sent word to Maferath of Andraste’s safety. He did not speak to Maferath, but before his betrayal he still knew the power of the Maker and knew to look for His signs. That sign came in the form of eight white birds, eight fat hens with long luxurious feathers that shone with all the colors of moonlight upon fresh snow. Shartan wished to kill these birds for many of the soldiers had not seen such fat birds before and longed to taste their flesh in a feast but Maferath stopped them. “These are the Maker’s own birds,” Maferath proclaimed. “They bring news of our Lady. Andraste yet lives.”

The next morning it is said all eight hens crowed to the rising sun as the snows lifted and Andraste came down the mountain with the great white rooster in her arms. His nest of eggs had never emptied no matter how many eggs she and her party had eaten and they came down the mountain as sleek and fat as the eight hens themselves. The rooster joined the eight hens in a flock, the first of the Birds of Starkhaven.

It is a favorite heresy in Starkhaven, a tale to be told on the Chantry steps yet never uttered inside the Chantry’s walls. It cannot be true, for roosters cannot lay eggs and the Vimmark Mountains never see snow. But you will never meet a Starkhavener who doubts this story.

After all, it is a matter of history that during the Second Blight the Birds of Starkhaven laid enough eggs that the city stayed fed, even the roosters laying their share. According to legend some of these rooster's eggs even hatched into snow white cockatrices, three flying alongside Wardens Neriah and Corin during the final battle of that conflict. All three sacrificed themselves to bring the Wardens close enough to the Archdemon’s neck that when Neriah fell, Corin could strike the final blow. This is why the heraldry of Starkhaven and of the Vael family itself features three cockatrices flying in circle.

The stories all say the Birds of Starkhaven are the only living descendants of those nine, the Maker’s own birds. From those birds the Maker shows His love to the world, giving the people of Thedas a bird small enough to hold, strong enough to defend itself and its flocks, resourceful enough to eat anything, and yet loving enough to be held by a gentle hand. A bird that will feed a man every day upon the eggs she selflessly offers of her own body.

One may doubt the stories. They are, after all, heresy against the Chant of Light as it’s commonly accepted by the Chantry. Everyone knows roosters don’t lay eggs. But one cannot doubt the wealth that Starkhaven enjoys with its seemingly unending supply of fresh eggs and the fertile farmland all around kept fertilized by the inevitable piles of chicken dung left all over a city that does nothing to keep its animals contained. Those white marble pillars, statues, walls, lanes, every one is scrubbed clean and kept pristine by the labor of a thousand hands, their stains hidden beneath the iridescent feathers of a thousand white chickens that run freely through the city.

Until one day in 9:42 Dragon when a single ebon-feathered rooster followed a defeated army. For a Deal had been made and a debt incurred. Soon, the Birds of Starkhaven did not shimmer like moonlight upon snow. Instead they shone like the Breach at sunset, black feathers shining green and gold and eerie magenta. These were still the Maker’s own birds…

Right?