Vigil's Keep got mail even on All Soul's Day, because the Arl-Commander wasn't Andrastean, and neither were a number of Ferelden's other most important Grey Wardens. This particular All Soul's Day, the first day of August 9:35 and the official start of autumn, the mail contained a very special letter.

It wasn't seen for a couple of days. The Arl-Commander might not have been Andrastean, but the Constable of the Grey in Ferelden- whose position really entailed being the Seneschal of Vigil's Keep and Amarathine instead of the Warden duties the position carried all other places in Thedas- was, and he was at the rebuilt Our Lady Redeemer in Amaranthine for services on All Soul's. He wouldn't return until two days after the holiday.

The letter wasn't addressed to him, but it ended up in his office, awaiting his attention, because the person it was addressed to was a member of the Vigil's staff who'd died three years ago in the first darkspawn attack on the fortress. The old groundskeeper had no known living relatives, or friends who hadn't already been told he was dead, so it had passed on to the Constable.

Constable of the Grey Nathaniel Howe didn't get to the letter right away once he'd returned. He didn't see it at first, because he already had things he'd planned on attending to that morning. All Soul's Day marked the start of a new quarter, which meant that last quarter's reports had to be filed with him at the Vigil. That's what he spent his morning looking over.

First were the reports of the banns of Amaranthine- things were still improving since the post-Blight attacks, and there were only the expected troubles. He made a few notes about what places needed more soldiers to deter bandits and where the coast guard could stand to patrol more to catch raiders, then put them all aside for the reports that he privately felt were his real duty.

Keeper-Captain Velanna didn't have much to say, as usual. The Wending Wood was still the safest place from bandits in the entire arling, and the granite and silverite mines were undisturbed. The Dalish hadn't seen any hint of darkspawn, but Velanna was considering moving the clan to the Blackmarsh in spring because of the activity from the mines. It would also give the forest a chance to rest and replenish its resources. She included some ideas about how to keep the Pilgrim's Path patrolled, including using it as practice for her younger, newer, or less-skilled hunters, or a joint training exercise between her people and Amaranthine's soldiers.

She also included a line at the end for the Arl-Commander, something about a meeting of clan Keeprs coming up in a couple of years that she'd have to attend, and the fact that she still hadn't obtained a First. Nathaniel copied it out under his notes about troop rearrangements, so he'd remember to tell Theron about it.

Ser Alec wasn't a Warden, but he was Captain of the Guard in the city of Amaranthine, which was a position important enough to file paperwork about. The reconstruction was still going, but most of the major things within the city were finished. Now it was just the expansion of the walls, which would take a while. The smugglers and other lowlifes were trying to regain their foothold, but the guards had kept them unsuccessful so far. Everything was in order.

Warden-Captain Oghren was the newest appointment, promoted once Houses Helmi and Dace had successfully cleared the Deep Roads to Kal'Hirol earlier in the year. Paragon-King Jerrik, formerly of House Dace, was still causing an uproar in Orzammar. He'd been named Paragon for being the leader of the Deep Roads cleaning, and for sharing the technique that had brought him safely home from Amgarrak with the Legion of the Dead, but King Harrowmont had been very displeased when the newest Paragon had appointed himself King of Kal'Hirol instead of handing the thaig over to Orzammar as a vassal state. Oghren had been sent to Kal'Hirol with Sigrun as his second to monitor the Deep Roads and to liaise with the Legion outposts now stationed along the path. The Roads were still quiet from the Deep Cleaning, as some dwarven wags were calling it, and looked likely to stay that way for at least a little while longer.

Up at Soldier's Peak, Warden-Captain Alistair was having the hardest time out of all his peers, as usual, and was complaining about it the most, also as usual. His first year back from hunting across Ferelden for the Warden-Commander had been spent cleaning up the Peak and doing what minor repairs could be accomplished before the snows got too bad, then handling the interior ones. Essentially, he'd spent a year camping on a mountain, and still wasn't happy about it.

This past year the project had been major structural repairs in the areas that had been declared unfit to live, and getting Wardens moved into the parts that were ready for habitation. The Voshai had all moved up there, and later on Theron had sent the Fereldan Wardens' mage corps- a grand total of three, one from the Jainen Circle, one from Kinloch Hold, and a free apostate who'd been on his way to join the Lyrists of Kal'Hirol to collaborate with the dwarven smiths when he'd gotten sidetracked- to base up there as well. Reading between Alistair's complaints, Nathaniel could tell that everything was on schedule and they hadn't gone too over-budget. The Drydens were still shipping things up to the Peak and making piles of money off being the Wardens' unofficial merchant family in Ferelden, and were doing their part for the relationship by finding the very best materials.

'But who else is going to live here?' was Alistair's most familiar complaint. 'There's only fourteen of us, and that's including Shale. That's most of the Wardens we have right now, and even if the Orlesians were still around and could be convinced to live up here, it's more space than we can use.'

The Arl-Command had 'generously' allowed the Orlesians to return home two years ago, since the Blight clean-up had been finished before they'd even shown up. In reality, it had been the only thing to do to keep the citizens of Amaranthine from ganging up on them, and to keep the peace in his own ranks. Happily, the Orlesians had wanted out of Ferelden as much as the Fereldans had wanted them gone. The only two who had stayed were Leonie Caron and Nelle Ehoux, but they'd already been accepted as honorary Fereldans, so it had worked out.

Nelle was Alistair's second up at the Peak, and Leonie was Nathaniel's here at the Vigil.

Sometimes that was very awkward, because she still had no idea that he'd killed her brother. And then lied to everyone about it.

Nathaniel wasn't sure that the Arl-Commander knew he'd killed Gerod Caron after finding Anders dead at his- admittedly botched- orders. Oghren knew, because he'd been there; and he was pretty sure that Sigrun and Velanna and the Voshai suspected that the official line was covering for something underhanded and just didn't care; but he was certain that Zevran Arainai had seen right through his lie from the start. Maker only knew if he'd told his lover.

He might have: he'd appointed himself the Arl-Commander's bodyguard and spymaster, inasmuch as Theron Mahariel Sabrae, Hero of Ferelden and Slayer of the Archdemon Urthemiel needed either of those things. Theron's immediate second-in-command assassinating a superior officer, even out of a sort of loyalty to the Arl-Commander himself, was exactly the kind of thing Zevran watched for.

He might not have: knowing that Nathaniel had killed Caron would make Theron sad and disappointed, and everyone who worked directly with him knew that the limits of what Zevran would do to keep him happy and content were quite possibly non-existent, in a scary way. The only comfort was knowing that the Arl-Commander was a good man, and didn't often get truly upset.

Nathaniel had finished the quarterly reports when the assassin in question walked into his office unannounced and unexpected, in regular field armor. It had silverite plates- just like Amaranthine's soldiers' and Ferelden's Wardens' armor did now, courtesy of Wade and the mine in the Woods- and the rest of it was warm Antivan leather, because Zevran was the most spoiled assassin in all of Thedas.

The sad part was that Nathaniel could even blame him for it. Theron just liked giving him nice, extravagantly expensive presents unprompted. Sure; he could afford it; and sure, it was usually weapons or armor or some such useful thing; and sure, Zevran seemed to honestly enjoy being the Arl-Commanders extremely lethal and semi-conspicuous arm candy; and sure, Theron did the same sort of thing for all his friends. Nathaniel still felt like he was supposed to be disapproving for some reason.

"You look as pleased as Ser Pounce on a cellar day," he told Zevran. "Aren't you supposed to be in Portmarch, foiling pirates?"

"I was," Zevran agreed. "And I did. But then I heard a wonderfully intriguing piece of rumor about your mail, and had to return with all speed!"

"My mail?"

Why would people be gossiping about his mail? It was all reports and party invitations from the banns that Theron only sometimes went too. And every so often, something from the Queen asking him to come to court in Denerim, Zevran warmly invited as well, of course. Usually, she was trying to have Theron intimidate new diplomats by his mere presence, and letting Zevran get a good look at their spy networks while they were distracted. Nathaniel, Alistair, and Zevran were pretty sure Theron hadn't caught on yet, and they'd quietly agreed to let him find out on his own.

"Say, rather, mail that has defaulted to you," Zevran said, and extracted it from the old bottle crate Nathaniel kept things he needed 'to look at, but not right now' in.

There was a name he knew on it, written in hand that looked familiar, but couldn't place.

Zevran handed it over, and Nathaniel spent a moment to examine the outside of it- 'Samuel, Groundskeeper of Vigil's Keep, Arling of Amaranthine' written on the back, closed in the front by an unstamped blob of wax that looked like it had been dripped from a cheap candle- before opening it.

'Dear Samuel,

Albert and I made it to Kirkwall once Amaranthine began having all that trouble with the darkspawn, but there are so many other Fereldan refugees here that we have not prospered. Albert only just managed to obtain a stall space in the Lowtown Bazaar last month, and while I am grateful for it, it would have been helpful a year ago, or two, when our Thomas was born. He isn't a very lively child, but I don't know if it's just his nature or if I should be concerned. The healer who runs the free clinic for the refugees says it's likely just his character, but, well, I worry. He's still young enough to be very susceptible to diseases.

And now I have another thing to worry about. Our daughter Emily was born three days ago, and I am writing this to you from the birthing bed. I gave the healer and Albert quite a scare with all the blood I lost. We've been advised not to try for more children, and I'm confined to the bed until the end of the week. It's trying, with a toddler and a newborn and little money, but at least I can do embroidery jobs from home. I don't have to be at the stall for that. And in Kirkwall Fereldans help Fereldans, and Lirene, the woman who organizes these things, found someone who could come do things around the house this week and watch the children, for only the cost of food. She's been a true blessing.

But now that I have two children, Samuel, I will truly have no time of my own to continue the search. I must confide in you that for a bit there during the birthing, when I was losing all that blood and certain that I was going to die, I was almost relieved. Thomas was lost to the Blight, and Father was too in his own way, and even though I had expected to find Nate here in Kirkwall there has been absolutely no news of him- I fear he returned to Ferelden without informing anyone and fell to the darkspawn. In those moments, I was comforted by the thought that I might see him again.

Please, Samuel, has any word of him reached you in Amaranthine? My father may despoiled our name, but I would hope that Nate, if he still lives, has avoided it. He had nothing to do with any of it.

Yours,

Delilah'

Delilah. Delilah. Delilah.

His sister.

His sister was still alive, In Kirkwall. She'd left the country ahead of the Burning. She had children.

He was an uncle.

He wasn't the last of the Howes.

"Nathaniel?" Zevran asked.

"I- I have to go talk to Theron. Right now."

The proper course of action here was very clear and very simple- they would go to Kirkwall and bring Nathaniel's family home.

So of course everyone else had to object to it, because he'd included himself in that 'they'- and as he'd been very emphatically informed in the past, he, Theron Mahariel Sabrae, was no longer allowed to go on trips.

Which was completely unfair. He'd traveled his entire life, and it was only the two that had gotten completely out of hand and almost killed him.

But no one held becoming a Grey Warden on the eve of betrayal and then stopping the Fifth Blight as a misadventure. That was heroism, and applauded. It was just the second one that was a misadventure, by everyone else's reasoning, even though he'd been in much more danger during the Blight.

Which, most days, he thought was fair. He had still done good on his second journey, but he'd abandoned his people to do it.

His father had been Keeper of Clan Sabrae before Marethari, and it was only the instance of being born without magic that had kept him from following into his father's position. It had been expected, his lack of magic, but still a mild disappointment. Every time the magic of a Keeper didn't pass down to their children, it was another small loss for all the Dalish- both for the growing lack of magic in the clans and the fact that other Dalish children would have to be taken from the clans of their families to make up for it.

In a different world, Theron could have trained as his father's First, or as Marethari's. Instead, his father had been killed when he was too young to have clear memories of anything, and Marethari had been pulled from her position as First of Clan Vhadan'ena under Keeper Zathrian to become part of Sabrae, and Merrill had been taken from Clan Alerion as a young child to become her First.

In this world, he wasn't the Keeper of Clan Sabrae. He was Keeper of Ferelden's Grey Wardens.

Not that he would ever say that to most of his people- his first people, the Dalish, so many of whom would look at his second clan and sneer 'shem'len'.

His Wardens were his second clan, in some ways more true than his first, because it was for the Wardens he would ultimately die, not Sabrae. He would not stand to see the Dalish deride them, or defame them, or insult them in his name.

Sometimes, when Theron was completely alone and there was no one who could possibly hear him, he whispered it to himself: Dorf'amelanesan Amelan.

Elvhen didn't have a proper word for Grey Wardens, at least that he'd ever heard. Maybe other clans knew it, but Sabrae hadn't, so he'd had to make one up. There was something poetic about it: 'Keeper of the Grey Keepers', the closest he could get in Elvhen to the true meaning of 'Warden'. In the same way, it pleased him to know that the true home of his new clan was Vigil's Keep.

But he had been a bad Keeper, after Amaranthine. The Burning had been necessary, but leaving afterwards- Keepers didn't do that. If a Keeper had to leave, they told their First where they were going, and then still only left if the First was ready to leave, with the clan Hahren for support and guidance.

Theron hadn't even had a First when he'd left. His Wardens had had to sort it out themselves, and-

It had gotten some of his clan killed. Wardens- Anders, Justice- and the people of the arling who were still his responsibility, but didn't fit easily into Dalish comparisons.

He'd been being a good Keeper since returning to the Vigil, and so long as he properly provided for leadership while he was gone, Amaranthine and the Wardens wouldn't be left without protection again.

And he'd have to leave. It was his duty to go to Kirkwall to retrieve Nathaniel's family.

"It is a good political move," he counter-argued; because while he knew that his reasons were properly supported, the Wardens and others he had to convince weren't Dalish. "You do a very good job, Nathaniel, but what happens once you and I are gone? I know why the queen gave us this arling, and I thank her for it, but the First Warden's reasons for accept are not very good ones. If your sister was here, I could reinstate her to the nobility, and then she and her children and their children after them could be Seneschals of Amaranthine. Having an Arl-Commander is entanglement enough without having the second-in-command position similarly drawn to two duties."

"As it is," Zevran remarked casually, which menat that he'd been waiting for an opportunity to make this point. "Theron runs the Wardens more than the arling, and you organize the arling more than the Wardens."

Nathaniel sighed, but in frustration, not resignation.

"Whose side are you on?" he asked Zevran.

"Is it not obvious?"

"It's not like I'll be going alone," Theron told Nathaniel. "Zevran will be coming with me. And so will you, since Delilah is your sister."

"But then who's supposed to run- all this!"

"Captain Garavel can handle the army," Theron said. "Ser Alec and the city council have Amaranthine well in hand. Alistair, Velanna, and Nelle can lead the Wardens."

"Ah, my dear," Zevran said. "I would not assume that Alistair will consent to be left behind on Soldier's Peak while you go on an adventure."

"We won't be gone for that long. There are ships from Amaranthine to Kirkwall, and then it should only be a couple of days at the most to find Nathaniel's sister and arrange passage back, and then we're home. Only a week. Anyway, I thought Alistair hated Kirkwall."

"Trust me, amora, he will hate the thought of you going somewhere without him much more."

When Alistair got wind of the news that Theron was going on an excursion to Kirkwall- courtesy of a junior Warden dispatched in secret by Zevran and Nathaniel- he got right on his horse and headed for the Vigil to give his friend and piece of his mind.

Namely, that he could agree with going to Kirkwall to get Delilah Howe, but that nothing short of the Sixth Blight could make him stay at the Peak while Theron went off to foreign parts unsupervised.

"No, Zevran doesn't count as supervision! And Nathaniel's going to be distracted by his sister!"

Theron couldn't get him to leave, and Alistair was added to the Kirkwall group because of sheer stubbornness.

Two Voshai mysteriously turned up from the Peak a few days later- Mhequi and the former Ander, Lockhard.

"Bad place for Captain," Mhequi insisted. "Bad lyrium."

"Why do they like you so much?" Nathaniel asked Alistair.

"I really don't know. Somehow they got the idea that I'm a delicate maiden in need of a cadre of loyal bodyguards."

"You're our Captain," Lockhard said loyally. "We're not letting you go back there without support."

So then they had to account for the Voshai. While they were rethinking their travel arrangements, Captain Garavel and Ser Alec lodged a joint plea for the Arl-Commander to add someone from the arling side of things to his 'formal escort'.

"But it's not a formal escort," Theron said, when Nathaniel brought it to his attention. "It's me; you because it's your sister; Zevran and Fen and Alistair, because none of them will let me go anywhere without them; and Mhequi and Lockhard because they won't let Alistair go anywhere without them."

"They want you to take Kallian Tabris," Nathaniel told him. "I know her- she's seriously considered becoming a Warden. She's committed herself well in bandit skirmishes and has shown a lot of promise as commissioned officer material."

"We're not selecting a patrol group, Nathaniel."

"She's an elf with a greatsword."

And so Sergeant Tabris was added to the group.

When the other Captains and Senior Wardens heard about it, they thankfully didn't insist on coming along as well. Oghren sent a grumbling letter from Kal'Hirol, with a much more upbeat and positive addendum from Sigrun telling Nathaniel how happy she was for him. Velanna sent Kallian's cousin Nesiara to convey her Keeper's opinion on the whole thing much more personally; but the rest of them could also tell that it was for her and Kallian's sake, too.

Something had happened with two of them while they'd still been living in Denerim that had given them an uncommonly strong bond. All they really knew was that it had involved a marriage, and that both of them refused to speak more on the subject. Zeran had idly poke around the other elves now living in Amaranthine or in the town that had sprung around outside Vigil's Keep, since a number of community leaders had come from Denerim, but none of them wanted to talk about it either.

Nesiara couldn't stand to live amongst humans, and her only family was about to go off somewhere she couldn't rush in and save her if the need arose. They quietly let the cousins get on with their reassurances in private.

The next morning they set out for Amaranthine. They had collectively agreed to keep their arrival in Kirkwall quiet- at least as much as they could with three armed elves, one a Dalish- so the Warden armor and Zevran's silverite had been packed away against the hope that they'd have to announce themselves formally. Everyone's weapons were battle-worn enough to be ignored, even though they were quality pieces, and they'd dressed as armsmen in Amaranthine's colors and prowling bear instead. Hopefully, they'd pass more unnoticed if everyone thought they were in service to the arling, rather than in charge of it.

The sole concessions to their Warden status were the griffins on Theron's dragonbone shield, and the one on Alistair's engraved silverite shield showing Soldier's Peak that Theron had commissioned as a gift for him. Even then, though, they could hopefully be passed off as just a new part of the arling's livery.

Lodgings had already been taken care of, as well. Nathaniel had spent the first and larger part of his squireship in Starkhaven, but he was acquainted with a few of the well-to-do noble families in Kirkwall, particularly the Harimanns, who had been long friends of Starkhaven's former princely family, the Vaels. He'd sent a letter ahead, and they were to stay with the Harimanns as guests of the Lord's daughter, Johane, who had been one of his knight-master's lovers.

They left for Kirkwall to find Delilah Howe at the end of August, and arrived in the City of Chains in the first days of Kingsway at the head of a brisk autumnal wind.