The Chantry teaches us that it is the hubris of men which brought the dark spawn into our world. The mages, the Archons of the Tevintir Empire sought to usurp heaven, but instead they destroyed it. They were cast out, twisted and cursed by their own corruption. They returned as monsters, the first of the darkspawn. They became a Blight upon the lands unstoppable and relentless. The dwarven kingdoms were the first to fall and from the Deep Roads the darkspawn drove at us again and again until finally we neared annihilation. Until the Grey Wardens came. Men and women from every race, warriors and mages, barbarians and Kings and the Grey Wardens sacrificed everything to stem the tide of darkness, and prevailed. It has been four centuries since that victory and we have kept our vigil. We have watched and waited for the darkspawn to return. But those who once called us heroes have forgotten. We are few now, and our warnings have been ignored for too long. It may even be too late, for I have seen what lies on the horizon. Maker help us all.
Duncan looked behind him, down into the valley below the Frostback Mountains. Like all Grey Wardens before him, he knew the end of a Blight never signaled the end of the darkspawn—indeed, the dwarves living in Orzammar beneath this very mountain lived with the monsters on their doorstep daily. And he had the nerve to ask for their assistance the few times they received a break, when a Blight broke out and the darkspawn moved to the surface. At least, that's what he had often pondered as he had been making his way to one of the last great dwarven cities. There had not been a Blight in his lifetime. The Grey Wardens had just recently returned to Ferelden, and were very short in number. Just like the darkspawn, like an archdemon to take advantage of the infant order. He sighed as he entered the market set up by the surface dwarves and those looking to trade with the increasingly insular dwarves. Luckily, Grey Wardens were admired by the dwarves, and many people of Ferelden—he would have no trouble getting in. But he was more concerned about getting recruits. While there were many talented warriors, rogues and mages in Ferelden, he wondered just how many of them had the strength of will, body, and mind to become a Grey Warden. Even harder a task, he thought as he approached the gate of Orzammar, was getting them to leave, or getting their elder's permission without causing a fuss. The last thing the realm needed (in addition to few Grey Wardens) as a Blight approached was to be divided….
Beneath the peak, in what the dwarves called 'Dust Town' the casteless of dwarven society eked out a living off the charity of the merchant, noble, and warrior castes, or through the vast black market dealings. They were not allowed to hold jobs, weapons or trade with others; the casteless included those on the surface, but at least surface dwarves were at the mercy of human society, and not the rigid ice of their own people. Most of the black market operations were run by others who actually held place in society, but the casteless made up the majority of their workers. Wylan and his younger sister Rica, were two such slaves to a black hearted crime lord named Beraht.
"I can't keep gambling on you forever precious," the pale merchant class lout purred. He wore fine brown chainmail, and had a kempt brown beard. "You have a cute face, something to drive the men wild, but I'm not seeing a return on my investment."
Rica, a slender dwarf with done up red hair, bit her cherry lips and cast her eyes downward. "Please, Beraht. Can we not do this in front of my brother?"
"Why not?" He grumbled, casting his autumn eyes at Wylan. "He knows the slope of the land, don't you boy?"
"Didn't I tell you not to talk to my sister like that?" Wylan, a blonde headed dwarf with light blue eyes, snapped. The solidly built dwarf was strapping the last buckle on his shoddy leather armor.
"You've told me a lot of things, not one of which meant more than a fart in the middens." He snorted. "Before me your sister was just another duster. Now check her out! Braids down to here, gold-capped teeth. She can recite elf-poetry and play the string-harp. Every man's dream!" He turned back to Rica—her make-up caked face more red than usual. "All she's gotta do is find a lord, squeeze out some kid who looks like him, and we're all living the easy life in the Diamond Quarter."
Rica scooted closer to her brother. "Please don't get involved. You know that never goes well." She whispered softly.
"I don't like to see him treating you that way." He replied in kind.
"I'll treat her however I like, as long as you both eat off my plate." The lord snapped, catching Wylan's words. "You keep your head down and say "Aye" to any job I decide is low enough for scum like you. In return I put out coin so you can doll yourself up and get a bellyful of some nobleman's brat. Then you both go free. And I get to join the family and be called, "my lord," for the rest of the little prince's life."
Wylan rolled his eyes. "And her son'll call you uncle and come visit on name-days?"
Beraht glared at him. "That's what everyone likes—a casteless with a big mouth. But I didn't come for the joy of your company. I've been looking at my investments, and this one hasn't borne much gold. He began to walk away. "I'm giving you another week, precious. If you haven't found a patron, you're back to sweeping streets."
Rica stuttered. "I…I didn't want to say anything. The last client I saw last week…he…wants to see me again. It's nothing definite, but he…he said he wanted to see me again."
Wylan grabbed his sister's shoulder. "See, she's found someone. I told you we'd deliver."
"Excuse me if I don't start knitting booties. Until I do you're the one who's going to keep paying her debts with your service to the carta."
"What do you need me to do?" Wylan sighed.
"Your buddy Leske's waiting outside. He knows what I'll need from you today." He glared over at Wylan one last time. "Don't even think about bungling this job. Your whole family's on loose sand with me right now. And I know you don't have anywhere else to turn." The merchant swaggered out of the hovel of Wylan's house.
Rica sighed and sat down on the best chair in the dusty house. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
"You don't have to hide anything from me." Wylan said, turning back to his sister.
She smiled sadly. "I know. You've always been a good brother, always tried to protect me." She sighed. "I should have told you. Beraht's been warning me ever since two of his other girls found patrons at Lord Harrowmont's reception. They've been getting gifts already. Lord Rousten gave Elsye a surface-silk gown and she's not even pregnant. Beraht's getting impatient."
Wylan clenched his jaw. "I just wish we didn't have to kiss up to that cave tick."
Rica put her hand on his shoulder. "You know the other options. Cleaning middens…begging…going to the surface." She shook her head. "No, unless you find a way to save us all from darkspawn and become a paragon, we're pretty much on Beraht's leash for life."
Her brother ground his teeth. They had had similar conversations before, and they all ended the same. The dwarves iron clad caste system was doing no one any favors. There were, in order of importance, nobles, warriors, smiths, merchants, commoners, and the casteless, which included the dwarves which had gone to the surface. Males inherited their caste from their fathers, daughters from their mothers. The only way to move up was to have a noble's child, or become a paragon, a hero. Wylan knew he could beat most soldiers in fair combat, but he would never be given the chance. It was sheer folly for him to not be allowed to fight even just the darkspawn. Orzammar needed all the soldiers it could get anyway—it seemed the darkspawn crept closer and closer every year. Only Orzammar and Kal Sharok were left of the original twelve thaigs, and it seemed Orzammar's grip was slipping. King Aeducan had even reached out to the surfacers, humans, before going to the casteless. All to save the status of the nobles…they made plenty of excuses of course. That casteless soldiers were inept, more danger to each other than to darkspawn, that it was an insult to the smith to let them touch a fine-made weapon. From all the combat he'd managed to sneak a glance at during Provings, he could lead a troop just as easily as any of them.
Rica spoke quietly, "I heard there's Grey Wardens in the city," She added quickly. "Recruiting…" Shaking her head and sighed. "But we don't have time for this now. Leske must be waiting and Beraht won't like it if I'm late for my appointment."
Wylan hugged his sister. "Beraht expects too much from you."
Rica shook her head. "You know how desperate the nobles are for more children. They can barely field enough soldiers to hold the walls against the darkspawn. If I could...give one of them a son, the whole house would celebrate. " Both of them knew the lucky consequences of such an event. The family would be raised up to noble caste to join the family. It's what Beraht had been betting on ever since he took Rica in as a young teen, why he paid for her clothes, her voice lessons. The greedy bastard just wanted to share the reward.
"So can you tell me more about this interested noble?"
She blushed, "Yes. That is, I hope. He certainly seems…charming." She giggled—an emotion so rare on her face. "He treats me like a real lady, not just someone to tumble and forget."
"Who is he?"
"I—I don't want to say, in case I'm wrong. It just seems too mad to think of one of the most important men in Orzammar with…someone like me." She tossed her head. "Anyway, time is rusting and I need to get dressed. These fashions will be the death of me—a hundred buttons on each sleeve!" She smiled, forced, and walked towards the back of the hovel.
Wylan sighed and walked into the other room. His mother sat at the shoddy table—he could smell the alcohol from here. Since his father died, it seemed Mother had found drink easier than life. She was a harsh woman, just like the environment her children had grown up in, like she had grown up in. He didn't bother to try to talk to her, which he patted himself on the back for as he noticed the glare she was giving him as he quickly slipped out the door.
The Dust Town was aptly named; luckily Wylan was used to the dust in his lungs. Leske, a dark skinned dwarf with a large smile and equally large braids leaned against the nearest hovel. The fellow carta member was the closest thing Wylan had to a friend. "About sodding time," Leske chuckled. "I was starting to think I'd have to bust in and get an eyeful of that spicy sister of yours. Ga-row!"
Wylan rolled his eyes. "Haven't I told you never to talk about my sister that way?"
Leske's smile didn't face and he shrugged. "But no hot-blooded dwarf can help himself. Those perfect lips, just made to be screaming my name…you must have had a few naughty thoughts yourself, huh?" He grinned. "What do you say?"
"That I might have to feed you your spleen…she's my sister Leske!"
Leske's rolling laugh echoed. "At least I'd have something to eat. But as much as I'd love to keep chatting, we'd better get down to business."
The two began walking away from the hovels, towards the gate to the market district. "So what's the story this time?" Wylan asked with a sigh. He hated the dirty work Beraht made him do—he was not cut of the right stone to be an assassin.
"Boss says we're out for a search and discipline. One of his smugglers is holding out on him. Name's Oskias. Some surface. Beraht got word that he's been selling shipments topside that would never make it to Beraht's ears down here. He wants us to find the rotter and see what goods he's holding back."
They passed a guard, but all the authority figures here in Dust City were paid off. "Anything specific we're looking for?"
Leske shrugged. "You know, hold, lyrium, spices…Anything that Beraht might cut someone's head off to get."
The usual, Wylan thought with a mental sigh. "I hate just killing people like this…"
"We're not just killing him." Leske started dryly. "First we take back anything he stole and then we kill him." He elbowed Wylan as the other sighed—the argument between the two was always the same. "You can feel bad later; let's just get this over with."
They walked easily through the gates to the merchant quarter. Casteless didn't have rights, but as long as they didn't try to go anywhere special, like the Proving Arena, no one asked questions. The Merchant Quarter was the most breath-taking site to most visitors, or so Wylan heard. The merchant shops and stalls lined a cavern glittering with fool's gold in the walls. A bridge crossed the chasm to the proving, which split the area in half. To the west was the Diamond quarter, where the nobles lived, and behind them Dust Town. They walked along the street to the tavern, the Tapster, the best place in Orzammar for information, or to hide out, as they both knew all too well. The smoky building was built into the side of the mountain, and loud as usual as the two stepped inside. A man they didn't recognize sat at a corner table—the bar tender confirmed him as their target. Wylan sat down slowly in the seat across from the pale dwarf while Leske slipped beside him.
"Hey, I was saving that seat!" Oskias snapped.
"That's real thoughtful, Oskias." Leske said smoothly. He was good at the soft, veiled threats. Wylan liked to leave the talking to him in these situations; that just mean Leske left the decisions to Wylan. "Its tiring work looking for you."
The mouse haired man twitched. "H-how do you know my name."
"We're here to stop you from making a huge mistake." Wylan said flatly.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Oskias muttered. "You probably have the wrong Oskias, see. I just got here this morning. I'm usually on the surface and…"
"So you're not the turncoat, two-faced swindling duster Beraht told us about?" Leske quipped.
Oskias shrunk into his chair. "I never did anything. Beraht's got no reason to send you after me!"
"If you did nothing wrong, you've got nothing to fear, right?" Wylan said, keeping his tone level, as before.
"I just want to make sure nobody…uh…does anything to hasty." Oskias muttered.
"Just empty your bags. Beraht wants to see what you're hiding." Wylan just removed his emotion from the situation—or tried to anyway.
"Look," Oskias started, fidgeting and getting shifty eyed. "I-I've always been loyal to Beraht. He's always been good to my family; I-I know how much I owe him."
"Then why have you been holding out on him?"
"I haven't…I-I wouldn't"
"You really think that's going to convince me?"
"I do have some lyrium ore. I have a little deal with one of the mining families. If it worked out I was gonna bring Beraht his cut, I swear. I-I'd be crazy not to."
"Suicidal, one might say," Leske added slowly.
"How long have you been cheating Beraht?" Wylan continued.
"N-not long! I mean, I-I'm not cheating him…I mean, this is my first time." He sighed. "Oh please don't kill me."
"Who have you been selling to?"
"Surfacers pay good coin for lyrium. Mages up there, they use it for their spells, smiths use it in enchanted weapons. I just took the money and ran. I-I mean, back to Beraht to share the profits."
"How much ore did you take?"
"Just a little. Maybe twenty-five sovereigns worth…"
Leske gasped. "Twenty five sovereigns…" He muttered, and Wylan had to agree with him. That was twice as much as a duster ever saw in a life time…
"Most of that's with my buyers on the surface. I just picked up a few nuggets down here." He paused and lowered his voice. "If I were to…maybe give you a piece, that's a lot of coin. Could you uh forget to mention this to Beraht?"
Wylan sighed. "Give me everything you have and maybe I'll let you go."
Oskias's eyes were wide. "I-I can run to the surface. Beraht will never hear of me again, I swear. I'll get out of the business…" he was talking fast, almost incomprehensible. "Open a dry goods shop." He took a small bag out of his purse and passed it under the table to Wylan. "Thank you." He whispered. "You're as noble as you are strong. May the ancestors bless your steps." The merchant walked slowly out of the tavern. After a slow glance at each other, Wylan and Leske followed.
They quickly slipped into the darkest corner they could find. "Was that smart?" Leske muttered. "If Beraht finds out Oskias ran, he'll kill you. He'll kill me. He'll make you kill me, then yourself. Then he'll probably stew us and serve us to the poor."
Wylan put a hand on his friends shoulder. "Don't worry, he'll never find out. I have a plan." In all honesty, Wylan sweated himself, but the opportunity was too good to pass up.
Leske laughed. "That's what I like about you…pure blind optimism. We should sell this quick and report back before Beraht starts wondering what's taking so long." He paused. "Un…unless you think we should give it all to Beraht."
Wylan shook his head. "No…we'll sell one and tell Beraht that we found only one on Oskias."
Leske slowly nodded. "He'd probably buy that. If he knew what and how much Oskias was hoarding, he wouldn't have sent us to look, right?" He bit his lip. "Unless he was testing us."
"You're over thinking it." Wylan said. "Let's find a merchant that won't rat us out to Beraht. What about your friend, Olinda?"
Leske grinned and nodded. "Just what I was going to suggest, follow me." They began walking toward Olinda's stall, nearer to Dust Town. "Olinda used to give me crusts of her week's-end loaf when I was little. She's got a soft spot for me." He chuckled and continued talking to himself. "And she hates Beraht…Woo…you should hear her go on about how its blackmail to pay protection money and the casteless deserve better…"
Soon enough they where there. Olinda was an attractive dwarf of thirty with auburn hair. She smiled as Leske laid eyes on her. "Leske! You old scamp, what're you doing here? Trying to charm me out of another set of ribbons for your girl?"
Leske grinned. "Trying to talk you into being my girl Olinda. You know my heart's breaking for you."
The older dwarf woman blushed. "Don't you go saying that around my husband." She muttered. "And that's….Wylan right?"
He nodded. "We've got some lyrium to sell you."
"Well, that's not what I was expecting to hear cross those lips. Where did you pick up lyrium?"
Leske glanced away. "Don't worry, it's not Beraht's…it's just us Olinda."
She sighed. "How much do you have?"
"One nugget."
"I can give you thirty silvers per nugget."
"Only thirty?" Leske groaned.
"It's less than it's worth, I won't lie to you, but the market for it's topside and that won't be easy for me to reach. And I'll have to find a buyer who won't ask where it came from. For that I can't afford more than thirty."
"It's a deal."
"All right then, Let me take that off your hands." The bag was quickly in Leske's outreached hands, and soon replaced with thirty silver. "And you probably shouldn't come around here for a while, just in case," She added as she slipped the bag under her stand.
The two walked away. Leske gave Wylan fifteen silver pieces. It was more than Wylan had ever had in his life, but much less than he had hoped for. Still, it was better than nothing. The two walked silently over to Beraht's shop, near the Diamond quarter. Jarvia, Beraht's newest lieutenant, along with two guards were in the shop, and the two heads seemed deep in conversation. Wylan could just pick it up.
"The king is old. His rule won't hold much longer." Beraht said, leaning on the counter.
"Prince Bhelen seems far more sympathetic to our interests than Trian or Sereda." Jarvia added, spitting the last name.
Beraht nodded. "Bhelen has some tastes of his own that he knows I can provide." Beraht paused as he finally noticed Wylan and Leske. "We'll finish this later…It's about time you two showed up." He said louder. "What happened to Oskias?"
"He's guilty. Here's the lyrium." Wylan was good at lying at this point, and handed over the last nugget.
Beraht growled. "One lousy nugget? You expect me to believe that's all he got off with?"
"He said he kept most of it topside. That was all we found on him." Leske piped up.
"Jarvia," Beraht barked. "Send a dig-troop topside. If Oskias had a hiding spot up there I want us up to our elbows in it." The hard woman whispered to one of the guards, who nodded and walked through a secret entrance in the shop's wall to the carta's hideout. "And the matter of…punishment?"
"That's what took so long…I killed him myself." Wylan replied with a slight roll of his eyes.
Beraht raised an eyebrow. "Very interesting, seeing how my cousin was at the Tapsters this afternoon. And he says he saw something change hands between you and Oskias and then the duster sodding stood up and walked out on his own two feet! Does that sound like what I ask? Jarvia, what does that sound like to you?" His voice was an angry growl.
"Sounds like some jumped-up face-brands thought they could take a bribe and let him walk free. That's just not right." Jarvia grinned wickedly as she spoke.
"The lady says it's not right. You wouldn't disagree with a lady would you?"
"I don't see any in the room." Wylan muttered. "I'm not stupid enough to kill Oskias in public Beraht."
Leske nodded. "Right. No one's going to say spit to you Beraht, but we can't move that free. We needed to get Oskias somewhere private."
"We took him to the lava sinks behind the mines." Wylan continued. "You won't be seeing him again."
Beraht stroked his beard. "Hmm. I don't like you making me look weak…but it's smart to try and keep the Sword Castes from asking questions." He almost broke a smile. "That's why I like you two. Now, I got something else for you. Make some use of your…unique skills."
Wylan sighed. "Let me guess…I don't really have a choice."
Beraht laughed. "You've finally catching on. The Warrior Caste is hosting a Proving today—all the best fighters, last man standing, you know the sort of thing. They're showing off for some Grey Wardens who're looking for candidates to drag off to a life of eternal glory. Now, it's not often we get every name fighter in Orzammar lined up like that, and I have certain acquaintances who…taken an interest in this sort of thing."
Wylan's interest was piqued. "Why would the Grey Wardens be here?"
Beraht shrugged. "Topsiders see a couple of darkspawn they start crying and run to Papa Orzammar. They know dwarves are the best when it comes to the darkspawn, so they're here to recruit a couple of bodies to prevent another Blight. Because why should humans have to live with what we get every day."
"So you're going to bet on who the Warden's pick?"
"There's a lot of coin to be made when people get the fever up. Favored fighter's an officer named Mainar, veteran of four darkspawn campaigns. Everd's a long-shot. Just got back from a Deep Roads offensive. Some young buck who has all the ladies drooling. I've got a lot of money riding on him. Mine and other people's. I expect to see that eight to one pay off, understand?"
"Aye, I do."
"The fight only gets announced to contestants themselves…to prevent illegal gambling. So first, you'll have to find Everd, see who he's fighting and when. When the name Mainar comes up, I want you to slip this drug into the bastard's water. It'll slow his reflexes, just enough to take the edge off, not enough to show. But it'll wear off quickly, so don't use it until just before his fight."
"Right, we'll go now."
"You bet you will." Beraht snapped. "Here's your pass to get on the grounds. The Proving starts as soon as the clock strikes. And when I say I have coin on this, I'm not talking about some pittance, like the value of your life. If I don't see Everd's name on the winner's sheet, you'd better make sure I never see you, or your sister, ever again."
Leske and Wylan didn't speak as they exited the shop and made their way across the bridge to the Proving ground. Three guards stood outside the main gate, and of course, took an interest in the face-brands. "Turn around, brand." The guard spit. "No casteless on the grounds."
Wylan practically threw the small slip Beraht had given him at the gaurd. "I have a pass."
The guard took the pass and muttered darkly. "Looks legitimate." Handing the pass back he continued. "Go on through then. But stay to the trenches. Grey Wardens don't need some eyesore getting between them and the fighters."
Wylan clenched his fist as he held his tongue and walked into the Proving grounds. It was the most magnificent building he had seen. High ceilings, crystal lights, carved pillars…beautiful. The room was loud with laughter and whispers, and the two seemed to be unnoticed—though that could be because common folk often acted like the casteless didn't exist. That's what made them such good workers for crime lords. As they walked further in, Wylan noticed a human in strange armor and dress standing amidst the spectators. Leske nudged his arm and he stopped.
"That's one of the Grey Wardens." Leske started. "I dare you to go up to him, say, "excuse me ser, may I drink your bath water?" He had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing.
Wylan shook his head at his friend. He planned on talking to the Grey Warden, but not to joke.
Duncan noticed the two dwarves staring at him and crossed his arms, bowing. "Stone-met and blessing on your house." Wylan's eyes bulged and his jaw slacked. Duncan furrowed his eyebrows and continued. "That was the proper greeting for an outsider last time I visited Orzammar. Has it changed? Or is there a reason you're looking at me so strangely."
Wylan pointed at his cheek brand. "I don't exactly have a house…" He replied softly.
"My apologies," Duncan added, undisturbed by the mark. "The intricacies of dwarven society oft skip my mind. I meant no offense. My name is Duncan. I'd say, "Of the Grey Wardens," but I suspect you already know that. Pleased to meet you."
Wylan shook his head. "I'm Wylan…eyesore, casteless, take your pick…there's a slew of insults to hurl around."
Duncan nodded. "Ah, I remember, that's what the face brand means."
Wylan glanced around at the guards inside the Proving. "Yes…and yes, you can have me arrested for harassing you."
Duncan smiled. "For saying hello?" He laughed heartily. "My friend, to a Grey Warden nothing short of a slavering darkspawn waking you in your bedroll counts as harassment. Actually I'm glad I met you. Whenever we come to Orzammar—which is too rare honestly—we always stay in the Diamond Quarter. You forget how much of the city you miss."
Wylan stared into Duncan's eyes. "Is it true you're here looking for recruits?"
Again Duncan nodded, his smooth voice strong and sure. "The Wardens are always looking for those who have the courage to spend their lives in battle against the darkspawn. It's rare we find those with both the skill and the will. The best Wardens are ruthless to their enemies, compassionate to their fiends and inspiring to their troops." He sighed. "It's a lot to look for, but I hope to find it here." Leske had taken Wylan's shoulder and started to drag him away. "And I hope you also may find what you are looking for." Duncan cried as the two edge away, down a hallway to where the fighters waited.
"What did you do that for?" Wylan muttered, brushing Leske's hand off his shoulder. "I didn't get to ask him about recruiting me."
Leske laughed. "Don't get your hopes up…besides, the fights are going to start soon. We need to find Everd and see when he's fighting Mainar or we'll miss our chance!"
Wylan sighed. "Right…" they continued down into the hall. The rooms were all closed, except for one. Inside was Everd, dead drunk, sprawled out on the floor. His golden armor sat in a open chest next to him. Wylan hung his head. Great…actually, maybe it was great, just the opportunity he needed.
Leske growled. "Sod it! He's stone drunk! He could draw a dead man for his bout and still lose! Beraht's going to kill us if we slip up here. He's already jumpy enough after that stunt with Oskias." He stopped. "Hey I just had an idea…"
"I could put on his armor." Wylan interrupted. "You know, fight in his name."
Leske smiled. "That's much better than my idea. I was going to say we should go up in the stands and start a rockslide, but you're brilliant! Just keep the visor down on that armor and no one will know the difference! He wins, Beraht wins, everybody wins. Except all the Warrior Caste braggarts you leave kissing dust." He laughed. "I sodding love the way you think my friend. I was afraid Beraht was going to kill us."
Wylan was already slipping on Everd's chainmail. "This isn't for Beraht. I want to impress the Grey Wardens."
Leske's eye widened. "You can't let anyone know it's you. If they find out, you'll be executed. They'll say it's an offense to the ancestors. If you want to tell the Wardens, at least wait until some time when you can bolt if you need to."
The engraved mail sat heavy, uncomfortable on his shoulders. "I know," Wylan laughed as he adjusted the chain shirt. "And no drugs…I'll win this fight by skill."
Leske patted his back. "You've got a heart of steel salroka. Get that helmet on!"
"Bout three is next. Officer Mainar versus the warrior Everd!" The Proving Master's voice echoed through the hall. "Fighters, report to the ring!"
After grabbing Everd's custom weapons, he walked over to the Proving Master. "May fortune favor your fight." The older man greeted him. Wylan saw Leske slipping into the crowd. "Are you ready Everd?" Wylan nodded. The guard opened the door to the arena floor.
The roar of the crowd was deafening. And somehow Wylan could not help but feel excited. He glanced around the seats on the walls a story or two above him, searching for the Grey Warden from earlier. Suddenly he heard the clanking of metal armor and the Proving Master naming the fighters.
"This is a glory proving fought under the watchful eyes of the paragons of old for our honored guests the Grey Wardens. The warrior Everd son of Galten will fight officer Mainar survivor of the battle at Kar Elvirn."
Mainar was a burly dark-haired dwarf. "You honor me with this fight." He said with a bow. "May the Stone show the boldest heart through the strongest arm."
Wylan chuckled inside. If only the warrior knew… "For the honor of the Grey Wardens." He replied, somewhat unsure of the correct response.
And then the fight began—first to fall is vanquished. Chainmail restricted a rogue's fighting in many ways but Wylan could tell he still had an advantage in speed. Mainar was wearing full plate, and wielding a greatsword. With just an axe and dagger, Wylan was able to practically dance around the warrior and easily dodge his swings. It took him longer than he expected to find the right weaknesses to down his opponent, but it only seemed a few seconds before he was able to draw enough blood. Mainar fell, and the crowd went wild.
"A truly memorable fight." The echoing voice said. "The young cadet vanquishes the wily veteran." A medic came onto the grounds from the door he had entered in. Wylan waved him off—Mainar hadn't managed to hit him, and he couldn't risk the helmet coming off.
" This is a glory proving fought under the watchful eyes of the paragons of old for our honored guests the Grey Wardens. The warrior Everd, son of Galten will fight last year's journeyman champion Adalbo, proven in glory before the stone."
Another fighter, a red-haired dwarf was his next opponent. "You honor me with this fight." He bowed. "My we both win glory in the eyes of our lords."
"The glory is mine." Wylan replied, also bowing.
Adalbo was quicker, but again Wylan had no problems. He'd been down the Deep Roads a few times himself. Nothing was difficult after killing your first deepstalker. Again the crowd cheered as Adalbo hit the dirt. "The ancestors have withdrawn their blessings and embrace a new champion on their field."
"This is a Glory Proving, fought under the watchful eyes of the paragons of old for our Honored guests the Grey Wardens. The warrior Everd, son of Galten will fight Lenka, silent sister in training she has made her vows but not completed her blooding. Will she be accepted into the legendary order? That will depend on her performance today."
Lenka didn't respond after her introduction—Silent Sisters didn't speak. They couldn't actually, after their vows they cut out their tongues, called a blooding. Lenka must have been practicing. Wylan bowed anyway. "You honor me with this fight. May we both achieve glory." Lenka was slow, like Mainar, wielding a broad sword. She fell, just like the others. Wylan smiled under his helmet. He was going to win…it was just like a dream.
"Everd will advance to the final bout, against…"
And then just like a dream, it ended. "What I'm out already…hey that's my armor" Everd was stumbling in the door Wylan's next opponent was to come through. He cursed under his breath.
"Who are you?" the Proving Master yelled from his perch. One of the dwarves next to him must have recognized Everd, even as drunk as he was, for the man's next words were. "Remove your helmet, warrior, and let all who watched see your face."
"I will not." Wylan threw a fist in the air. "My victories have earned me your respect!"
The Proving Master's voice was strained. "Your skills are impressive, but you are one man. Show yourself, lest I call the guards and have them do it for you!"
Sheathing his weapons, Wylan threw the helmet to the floor. "I am of no caste or clan," he yelled, "But I have defeated you all!"
The whole arena went silent. "Casteless!" The Proving Master yelled. "You insult the very nature of this Proving. Guards take this filth away!"
Duncan walked to the graying dwarf's side. "Hold your men, I pray you. This warrior has defeated the best you have to offer. Is this not what this proving is for?"
The Proving Master turned to his guest, barely keeping composure on his red face. "We are honored by your presence Warden, but this Proving is not solely for you." His voice shook with rage. "There are laws which have governed this arena for a thousand years! This man is no warrior! He is casteless, rejected by the ancestors. His very footsteps pollute the stone. He has no place here." He walked out without another word.
Duncan looked down as the guards beat Wylan, even after his surrender. "Except as your champion." He muttered, and quickly exited the arena. He had a plan.
"Are you awake?" Leske's voice was the next thing Wylan remembered. He was in a cell—but it didn't look like a government cell. In fact it looked vaguely familiar. "Can you hear me?" Wylan moved closer to the bars and nodded. His friend was in an adjacent cell looking nervously at him. "How hard did they sodding hit you anyway? Did you have to put up such a fight?"
Wylan laughed dryly. "I just hope I took some of them down with me!"
"Oh, you did." Leske replied. "And don't think they didn't show me their appreciation. One of the guards recognized me and figured we must be working together. They burned three candles to the stump interrogating me about who put us up to this. I think they knew, you know, about Beraht."
Wylan leaned against the bars, still chuckling to himself, riding the high of his achievement. "What's the sentence for ridiculing the entire Warrior Caste?"
Leske sighed. "Public whipping. Loss of your left hand for stealing the armor. Loss of your right hand for befouling a smith's work. Public flaying for impersonating a higher caste, and if that doesn't kill you, they'll put you to death for polluting the Proving." He tossed a rock against the wall. "That Grey Warden suggested exile, but it didn't seem like anyone was listening."
At the mention of the Wardens, Wylan's mind sparked. "Oh no…" he muttered. "Leske, Beraht said he'd go for Rica if we were caught. We need to go!"
Leske scoffed. "You think I didn't' look for a way out? Rica's not the only one in danger here. They could kill us! But these cells are built straight into the wall and they confiscated all my lock-picks."
Wylan began to look around. Lots of rocks…as he shifted through the layers of dirt he found some small bones. Excellent
"Good. You're awake. Beraht will be glad to hear that."
Wylan groaned. He knew that bitter voice, and as he turned around he knew he would not be happy to see the accompanying smug face. "You caused a lot of trouble today. Beraht lost a hundred sovereigns for Lord Vollney. The entire Proving was declared invalid and the Assembly already called for an investigation. You can't imagine the state Beraht was in when he told me to get you."
Well, that confirmed it, he thought. He was in Beraht's cells now. He chuckled. "Hey Leske, hear that, we're home."
Jarvia growled. "I don't think I appreciate the time and money it took to bribe the right people to get you back. You've got every guardsman at that Proving thinking if he takes you head off, the ancestors will bless him forever." She chuckled and fingered her hip-blade. "But they know whose hand holds the whip. When Beraht claimed you, they knew who's going to get to watch your last breath."
"No one you know." Wylan quipped. "You'll be dead before I will."
Jarvia laughed. "I doubt it. You risked exposing Beraht before the entire Warrior Caste. Now they're asking questions, and as long as you have tongues to answer them you're a threat. Enjoy your last night boys. Beraht'll be by soon to make sure you maintain your silence."
Wylan watched her walk away into the darkness. The guard daydreamed in a corner, and a few minutes later, he grabbed a bone and began to work at his lock. The door swung open and he began to pick Leske's lock. The guard noticed. As he rushed Wylan, the rogue handed Leske the bone and kept the guard's attention by dodging. Thank goodness the guard was slow. And…on the ground, Wylan realized suddenly. Leske had nailed him with a stone. Wylan grinned.
"I think our equipment is in that chest." Leske said. He was right, and the two quickly suited up and fought their way through the compound. Wylan was glad to be in his leather armor again—his new bruises would have made the chainmail even more uncomfortable. Before he realized it, they were at Beraht's room's door—after having to fight what seemed like half the carta. The steel door was unlocked, and they opened slowly.
Beraht stood in the center of the room talking to two well-armed men, ones that Wylan had not seen before."I'm cutting the whore free." Beraht was saying. "If that turncoat brother of hers doesn't know his place, I don't need precious Rica either."
One of the men whistled. "That the pretty one done up in paint and silk, with the flaming hair? I've been wanting to get my hands on her."
Beraht smiled. "Have fun boys, and take it from me. It tastes as good as it looks."
Wylan growled. "You'll do no such thing Beraht. Leave my sister alone."
Beraht laughed. "Let's teach this little duster a lesson."
Beraht used a sword and shield, and his two goons used double daggers. Wylan licked his lips, time to fight dirty. He would enjoy beating Beraht's face into the dirt. The Assassins were quicker, however, and he motioned to Leske to help him take out the two rogues. With a quick cheap shot to the first man, Wylan knocked him to the stone and sliced his throat. Then he turned his attention to Beraht, whose face had just paled significantly. The bulb-nosed dwarf was out of his league. Wylan played with him a while, dancing around while Beraht tried to land a hit. As Beraht's blows became sloppy—which didn't take too long—Wylan decided to end the charade. Beraht's head hit the floor before his body. Wylan was bathed in his blood.
"Did you see him there," Leske started, as soon as Beraht's body hit the ground. His voice was half gone, shaking. "all, when we're done with you?" And you just charged in and sodding slaughtered him!" He laughed and threw a fist into the air.
"As long as he never made it to Rica…" Wylan muttered, making his way to the back of the room, where he was sure both the treasury and exit were.
"Well, he was sure talking like she's still alive. But I won't turn down the chance to go take another peek." He paused while Wylan looted the treasury then added quickly. "Hey, could you tell Rica I killed him. I mean, it doesn't do you any good if she thinks you're the most virile warrior in all the Stone…"
Wylan glared. "Let's just get out of here before the guardsmen show up."
Leske nodded. "You said it. Fortunately, if Beraht's got them trained like he says, it should be a good long time before any guardsmen turn up here." They silently made their way up through the tunnel and out the entrance in Beraht's store. With a deep breath, Wylan slowly opened the door to the Merchant Quarter.
"There they are! Seize the fugitives."
Wylan sighed as he was quickly surrounded by guards. "I just killed Beraht. You should be thanking me."
The Proving Master was with them. He balked. "He's dead? Beraht had many enemies, but also powerful allies. They…"
"Beraht would have butchered us if he hadn't killed him first!" Leske yelled.
"Your friend has once again demonstrated his courage." Wylan saw the Grey Warden behind the guards. With Rica….she was safe. "We Grey Wardens travel far and wide in search of those with potential to join our ranks. It seems I have found one." Duncan smiled.
"Are you asking me to become a Grey Warden?" Wylan couldn't help holding his breath.
"Let me make my offer formal. I, Duncan of the Grey Wardens, extend the invitation for you to join our order."
The Proving Master was fuming. "This man is a criminal. You can't do this!"
Duncan stared him down. "I can and I am." He turned back to Wylan. "It would mean travelling to the surface lands and thus leaving your people, but it does offer you the chance to strike a blow against the darkspawn and the Blight."
Wylan could hardly believe his luck. "What's the trick?"
Duncan shook his head. "While it is no trick, it is a dangerous life. I can promise you no guarantee of safety. I can also give nothing in return for these hazards. In joining me, you leave all you know behind."
The dwarf nodded. "I just want to talk to my sister before I decide."
Duncan smiled. "And I see your friend would like to speak to you as well."
Leske shook him by the shoulders. "Those guys must've seriously cracked your skull. You're not going to turn down being a Grey Warden, are you?"
"I don't want to leave Rica."
"Well, don't you worry about that. Ol' Leske'll take care of her…" he grinned.
Wylan smiled. "That's what I'm afraid of."
"She'll be the first one telling you to go. She never wanted this to be your life."
"I know."
"Well, go back and tell him yes before he comes to his senses!"
Wylan turned to his sister and gave her a strong hug. "I couldn't believe it when Ser Duncan said he wanted to recruit you." Rica's face was glowing as she spoke. "I was ready to kill you when I heard what you did at the Proving—but it worked out for the best."
"What are you doing here Rica?"
"When I heard you'd been arrested, I ran straight to the Proving Grounds but you'd already disappeared. That's when Ser Duncan said he wanted to invite you into the Grey Wardens. I almost fell over." She giggled.
"I don't want to leave you alone here."
"Those are the rules of the order. All Wardens leave their familiar behind."
"But how will you take care of yourself? And Mother?"
"Please don't hold yourself back because of me. I think—for the first time—mother and I will be fine. I spent the afternoon with my new patron. If everything works out…maybe I can even greet you as an equal if you return."
"This the man you spoke of earlier?"
"Yes. He calls me his amber rose." She giggled and blushed. "Isn't that sweet? He has a voice like a poet. He has already promised to move Mother and me into better lodging, where he can find me more quickly when he wants me."
"And you'll be happy like this?"
"I am. Truly. I could never make a life fighting darkspawn. But if I can bear a son who makes his house proud, that's all I can ask." She sighed softly. "Go, little brother. Make the world a better place."
Wylan turned to Duncan. "I'll go with you; I'm ready."
"Then before these witnesses I hereby recruit you into the Grey Wardens. Know that you are most welcome. We will be staying in the city for two more days, for the Lady Aeducan's ceremony and first command, when we brave the Deep Roads. But I would like to make you a gift of this mace, since you have so few possessions of your own. It was once wielded by the Warden Foral Aeducan. I know you will continue his proud example. Now, follow me to our quarters in the Diamond Quarter and I will introduce you to a few more of the Wardens who came with me on this trip."
