[A/N: So, this is officially my longest chapter ever. And I am very happy about that. This would have been longer, but I decided to split this part into two or three chapters. Now for my news.

I have decided on cultures I am basing the nations of Thedas on:

Ferelden: Canada/US

Free Marches: Canada/US

Rivain: Moorish Spain

Tevinter: Rome

Anderfels: Germany

Orlais: France

Antiva: Italy

Nevarra: Greece

That's all. K bye!]


Chapter Two


"Tell me, amico mio, how is the family?" Zevran chuckled as he helped me back to the camp. He spoke of how Wardens considered themselves all brothers and sisters.

"Good." I grunted. "So I take it you're the elf the darkspawn were so scared of?"

"Oh yes, that was me. Couldn't resist. The big one with a warhammer squawked like a chicken and ran like one too!" Zevran and I shared a laugh. My left arm was slung over his shoulders, which were surprisingly sturdy. I'd never taken that offer of a massage, and I had no idea how strong Zevran really was. He'd never participated in Alistair, Oghren and my arm wrestling competitions. But then again, neither did Shale nor Sten. I winced in pain as a bolt of fire shot through my bones. I stared hard down at Dorin, walking beside us. Quite stocky, the boy was only about seventeen, and had to be made a Warden or die. He was an apostate who was constantly running. When he encountered darkspawn, he killed them. What he didn't know was that darkspawn carried the Taint. He'd taken samples of the monsters and gotten blood all over himself. Thus, he was infected. Sigrun and I had found him barely alive. He was rushed to Vigil's Keep, where Varel and I had made him a Warden. A damn good one too. But right now those warm fuzzy feelings were driven out with pain.

"My apologies Commander, but you are a fool." Dorin grinned at me. "You could have been killed, fighting that Disciple with one working arm. And your legs are starting to give out. Oh, you should know that Oghren's already started telling the tale of how you lost your arm to the ogre, then tore off a darkspawn's arm and put it in it's place. Right amazing, how that drunk can piece together a story." Sigrun burst into laughter, sharing it with Dorin.

"Ha ha, very funny. Where is he anyway?" I asked. Only Dorin, Sigrun and four soldiers had come.

"Oh, I sent them home. A few soldiers volunteered to keep the farmers safe until you came back, but Oghren and Velanna took the rest to the Keep. Your dog too." Sigrun continued smiling. I groaned.

"You do realize that we have diplomats coming to the Keep? And you just let Oghren go there with a story about me having a darkspawn arm!" I shouted dramatically. Of course, that just made my arm hurt. Dorin held it quickly and wrapped some tough fabric around it in a sling.

"At least tell me he left some horses?" I asked exasperatedly. Dorin nodded sagely.

"Alright, let's get going. So tell me Zevran, how's Antiva?" I asked, trying to take my thoughts of my arm. I had nearly been bitten in half by a High Dragon, I was covered in scars, but it had been so long since I was actually wounded badly. So my arm hurt a lot.

"Oh, Antiva is excellent! I met several nice and excellently shaped women, eager to participate is a wonderful massage! Also, did you know that the father of your brother's wife was a very important noble?" The elf said excitedly, putting far too much emphasis on the past tense. I gave him a weak smile.

"What do you mean, was an important noble?" I asked sweetly. I probably already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear how Zevran would spin the tale.

"Oh, he tried to have me killed because I assisted the brother of the barbarian who took his daughter. In his eyes, if the southern savages had not stolen away his precious child she would not have been killed." Zevran opened in his hands in a 'what can you do' gesture.

"He has a point there." I grunted. "I assume the Crows were only too happy to take the contract?"

"Oh, they were ecstatic. Then they were dead." Zevran grinned. "Then I found the signore and we had a talk. Problem solved." We shared a laugh. I probably would have clapped Zevran on the back, but I wasn't about to throw myself to the ground.

"Anything else? Preferably more pleasure, less stabbing." I managed.

"But I didn't stab anyone!" Zevran protested strongly. "In fact, no one died by my blade. All it took was tricking a few qunari mercenaries into attacking the Crows for me. For all their faults, the qunari are excellent warriors."

"Alright, alright." I nodded to him. "I fully believe that you are in no way culpable in the death of a squad of Crows and an Antivan noble. Are you satisfied?" I asked him in good humour. Zevran gave me a nod that would have been grave if not for his toothy smile.

"So, amico mio, I have told you of Antiva. What have you been doing in, Amaranthine is it?" Zevran asked.

"Yes, it's Amaranthine. You know, the usually. Killing bandits, dragons, demons and bad people in general. Oh, and there was a talking darkspawn."

"What?" Zevran hissed. His eyebrows raised, it was more curiosity than fear that fueled his question.

"Oh yeah, a few." I boasted, glad to have finally left the elf speechless. "They were given Grey Warden blood. It allowed them to resist the song of the Old Gods." Zevran nodded sagely.

"That would seem to give them an excuse for intelligence." He mumbled.

"They were led by an emissary named The Architect. He's dead now. But by all the gods of Thedas he was strong. I think we had an easier time killing the false Andraste. Ow!" I grunted in pain as Zevran stopped suddenly.

"Your camp is here?" He asked suddenly. I glanced around. We had made it back to the clearing Dorin and Sigrun said the farmers were waiting.

"Oh, don't worry." I smiled. "'I stand tall and proud, line of Calenhad!'" Sure enough, at the shouted passphrase my men showed themselves. I grinned at Zevran's surprised look. "You're not the only one skilled in subterfuge." I told him.

"But it is my specialty!" Zevran complained. I ignored his exaggerated look of insult and focused on my men. Cander, Brom and two soldiers had stayed. Brom was another Warden. An older man, he was the first of my newer Wardens. He wasn't a Senior Warden like Alistair, Sigrun, Velanna, Anders, Oghren or Nathaniel, but he acted like a father figure. He'd lost both his children to the Blight and wanted revenge. I accepted him gladly.

"My lord." Brom nodded as we entered the camp. He waved to the brush behind him and the farmers emerged, unscathed.

"For the last time, it's either Valtin or Commander. Come on Brom, you can get it." I nodded to him.

"Hey, why does Oghren get to call you Val?" Dorin asked, just a little bit whiny.

"Because Oghren has been with him for almost as long as I have. I also call your commander Val." Zevran explained to the youth. This left Dorin's mouth open wide.

"Wait! You're that Zevran! Whoah!" Dorin's eyes bulged. He turned to the archer-Warden standing guard. "Cander! This is Zevran! The assassin who fought with the Commander!" Cander gave Zevran a salute and returned to his post. Shooting me a self-satisfied smirk, Zevran led me to a log that had just fallen, if the still-green leaves were any indication. He tried to set me down but I stopped him. Nudging Zevran, I got him to turn me to face the mage.

"Dorin. Rejuvenation." I ordered. Dorin bowed, downed a glowing blue lyrium potion from his belt, blinked his eyes and shook his head and casted the spell. I felt a wondrous surge of energy course through my body. and I extracted myself from Zevran's grasp. I felt so fresh I even ignored Dorin's wanton use of lyrium. We had so much of it from Kal'Hirol that he could use what he wanted. Dorin raised his hands again questioningly, a blue glow around them. I nodded to him and turned my injured arm towards him. As Dorin went to work I motioned to the farmer to come closer. Thankfully he did, his wife and daughter trailing behind.

"I am Valtin Cousland, Commander of the Grey of Ferelden." I introduced myself. The farmer was so shocked he fell to his knees and bowed. His wife merely held her daughter with wide eyes.

"The Hero of Ferelden! Oh by the Maker, thank you Lord Cousland!" The farmer cried out. I knelt down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. The farmer stared up at me with tears in his eyes. Tears of joy I hoped.

"Stand tall." I told him. He obeyed, and we stood facing each other. As usual, I stood maybe a half head taller. It always made me seem intimidating, my friends had said.

"I am not royalty, nor am I nobility any longer. You owe me no homage. And my title is no longer 'lord'. It is Warden, Warden-Commander or just Commander." I explained to the man. He nodded, but I got the feeling my words went in one ear and out the other. "Just because my name is Cousland does not mean you need bow to me."

"But, you are an actual Cousland my lord? And do you not hold the arling?" The farmer's wife spoke up. I nodded to her.

"Aye. But as a Grey Warden, I forfeit all titles. That includes my noble name. And the arling is held by the Wardens in general, not just me."

"But my lord, is the King also a Grey Warden?" The wife asked again, a bit more suspiciously. This woman knew what she was talking about.

"Yes, Alistair is a Warden. However, Grey Wardens are sworn to fight the darkspawn by any means necessary, and if that includes the bastard of a king taking the throne to unite his country against the darkspawn, I accept it. Besides, can you think of another candidate that would have not led to civil war?" I shot back at her. Chastised, the woman looked down.

"No my lord."

"Do not think I am angry. You asked a question of extreme importance." The woman brightened at my words. Happy that the problem was solved, I turned back to the farmer who was beaming at his wife.

"Where were you going?" I inquired.

"Amaranthine my lor- Commander." The farmer corrected himself. This was good. I wouldn't have to escort them somewhere far away, then come back.

"I am heading to Vigil's Keep. I will take you there, then assign a man or two to escort you to the city. Is this agreeable?" I asked. The farmer nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh yes ser! Very good ser!"

"Excellent. Let us move. Sigrun!" I called for my current Senior Warden. The perky dwarf pulled herself away from a conversation with Brom and an Amaranthine soldier and sidled up to me.

"What'cha need Boss?" She asked innocently. I gave her a look and she shot me a wide grin.

"I need you to take another with you and scout ahead. We have three Wardens, me, you, Zevran and two soldiers. If there are any warbands left over I want to know long before they get to us." I gave her her orders swiftly. Sigrun saluted and scampered off, catching Cander's attention and taking him with her. Bad idea, I thought. Two Wardens might be sensed by the darkspawn. I let them go though. Too far away to stop them now. I moved to turn but Dorin held be back, still working on my arm.

"You seem to command the same level of respect and deference as during the Blight amico mio." Zevran chuckled behind him.

"Quiet you." I smiled softly. "The good old days eh?"

"Indeed." The elf said with more nostalgia than I'd thought him capable of. "Oh!" Zevran's eyes bulged. "I almost forgot! Our good friend the King has hired me."

"For what?" I asked, intrigued.

"His own personal assassin. What else?" Zevran waved his hand, shooing away my small grasp of the obvious. "As you well know, Nevarra and Orlais have very strained relations. This is not helped by the new ambassador to Nevarra, recently ambassador to Tantervale."

"And?" I pushed.

"Well, this ambassador has managed to anger everyone important in both those two areas in about a month each. So now there are threats of a military response to 'perceived' insults. The good King wants me to infiltrate and eliminate all those who might turn that anger on Ferelden."

"Let me get this straight: Orlais insulted them, and they think Ferelden is to blame." I muttered.

"Indeed." Zevran replied gravely. "Alistair wants to have me working among them. He's even thought of a name like the Shadows of the Empress."

"Well?" I asked. "What's the name?"

"Alistair's Blade. An agent that sneaks into their armour and bites at the flesh. Quite a good show for our dear friend."

"Ha! Good indeed!" I barked, clapping Zevran on the back. Then I roared in pain as Dorin snapped my arm back into position. "By the Maker!" I cursed.

"Don't worry Commander. It's done now." Dorin said, shaking his hands and stepping back.

"Good." I grunted. I raised my voice so all could hear me. "Move out! We should be back at Vigil's Keep by daybreak." Dorin waved to farmers to get up and Brom walked with them, talking with the young girl in hushed tones. As we went she would occasionally glance towards me. I ignored it for a while, but curiosity proved to great an opponent. I let my march slow down, and waited until I was within earshot and took a look at them.

"-and that's how he broke a siege with only three men." Brom said smugly. The farmer and his wife shared a smile and kept walking, but the girl was completely enraptured.

"What else did the Hero do!" She tugged on Brom's armour.

"I'm sorry, but I have only been told a few stories. You should ask the Commander if you want to know more." Brom told her sadly. The girl glanced at her father, and he motioned her towards me. I started walking again, hoping they hadn't seen me watching. If they had, they probably wouldn't think I was stroking my own ego. Which I wasn't.

"Excuse me." A small voice broke my thoughts. The girl had actually come up to ask me.

"Yes?" I asked her.

"Could you please tell me a story?" She made the big round eyes Solomon, my mabari, always made when he wanted food from someone.

"About what?" I knelt down to her level.

"You. Please." She requested.

"Hmm. I'm not that good at storytelling, but I might have one you'll like." I racked my mind for something. Most were too horrendous to tell a child, but I thought of one that might serve as a lesson as well. "I will tell you the story of how I met Flemeth."

"Flemeth!" The girl squeaked.

"Yes, the wicked Witch of the Wilds!" I waggled my fingers at her. "Do you know of Ostagar?"

"Yes, Father talks about it. He says that's where the King died."

"Aye, Cailan did die there. I almost did as well." I watched as the girl's eyes shone with questions. I kept talking to stave them off. "I went up a tower there with my friend Alistair, another Grey Warden. We were to light the tower beacon to signal the army to attack. Unfortunately . . . several things went wrong. I was nearly killed by darkspawn, and lost consciousness. When I awoke, and how lucky I am to have actually woken, I was in a hut. Standing over me was a woman I had met in the Wilds, a mage named Morrigan." The girl noticed my pained look when I said Morrigan's name. Smart.

"Who was she?" The girl asked.

"She was- is my friend." I corrected myself. "Anyways, Morrigan told me what happened, and I thanked her. She seemed surprised at that, and brought me out to see her mother. I had already met her mother, but I was now realizing the old woman was much more than meets the eye. She told me her name was Flemeth." I cleared my throat. "Flemeth had healed me and Alistair, and gave us the treaties necessary to get allies to fight the darkspawn. She also told Morrigan to go with us, to help us. We fought many battles, found new friends and allies. But Morrigan came to me with a concern. She had discovered how Flemeth was still alive after all these years: Flemeth would raise a girl, not her own, until she was beautiful and powerful. Then Flemeth would take control of the woman, allowing her to become young again."

"Did she steal Morrigan?!" The girl shrieked, scared now.

"No!" I grinned. "Morrigan had me help her. I went back to Flemeth's cabin and fought her for the book that had the ritual. I killed Flemeth and brought Morrigan the book. I haven't seen Flemeth since."

"Of course not." The girl scoffed. "She's dead."

"If only." I whispered. "If only." I looked down at her. "Why don't you talk to Brom? I'm sure he has more stories, just not about me." The girl gave me a hug and a smile and ran back to her family. She began speaking, but I was too far to hear.

"You have grown quite soft amico mio." Zevran chuckled, stepping in beside me. We took a few paces before I answered.

"What do you mean? I do not ever remember being mean to children." I shrugged.

"What I mean is, the warrior who the others tell me about would never have let me live. He would not have let the boy, Connor, live. He would not have let Loghain live. He would have let the Templars Annul the Circle Tower. When you and I met, I failed to kill you and you let me join you." Zevran took a deep breath.

"Aye, that I did." I said softly. "And we grew to become close friends."

"But, amico mio, I talked to Alistair and Leliana. You were quite unlikable when you met them. When I asked them how this stalwart and good soldier could be so cold-hearted, they told me something changed. Something that happened with the Dalish. Something in the room the werewolves took you, where you let no one else." He watched my eyes darken.

"I have not told anyone this. But I suppose I owe you some explanation, if only to sate your curiosity."

"Yes you do." Zevran crossed his arms and smiled with victory.

"Alright." I sucked in breath,readying for another story. "In the Brecilian Forest the Dalish were being attacked by werewolves. Through careful learning, I discovered that it was the Dalish Keeper, Zathrian's, fault. His family was murdered by a few humans, and he took his vengeance out on any humans who came near. I had no elves in my party at this time, so I took Solomon, Sten and Leliana. I figured they would be the least aggressive to elves. It worked, and we were allowed to try and help the 'poor' Dalish under attack by monsters. Of course, we weren't expecting the werewolves we encountered to talk. After that, we went straight back to Zathrian and I confronted him, alone. He made some excuses, and I vowed to find the wolves. Just not in the way he thought." I swallowed. "We did find them, and one wolf invited me in. Just me. Sten told me I was a fool, and Leliana was shocked. I convinced the wolf the let me take Solomon as well, and we entered the bowels of their home. Let me tell you, what I found was something I never thought I'd see. A spirit."

"So the wolves were controlled by a demon!"

"No! Not a demon. A spirit. The werewolves had named her the Lady of the Forest. She and I talked, and that's when Zathrian's treachery was revealed to me. I swore I would make him release them from the curse. I didn't know Zathrian had followed me there. He fought well, for a hundred year old bastard. When the Lady and I were victorious, Zathrian was convinced to reverse the curse he made. It killed both him and the Lady. I sent the wolves, now men and women and children, to Denerim. Last I heard they had taken a ship to Jader."

"I assume the Dalish weren't very happy with the disappearance of their Keeper." Zevran laughed. I shook my head, waving Sigrun away as she and Cander materialized from nowhere.

"He didn't disappear. I brought him back to the Dalish, so they could bury him. They weren't happy, but the new Keeper promised us their support. When we arrived back at our camp, I spent some time alone thinking. I realized that spending all my time consumed with vengeance would lead to nothing but sorrow. So, I turned myself around." I stared at Zevran, waiting for his reaction. He merely kept walking beside me, a supportive hand on my shoulder.

"Why did you ask?" I looked solemnly at the assassin.

"Because I like the kind you, the one who tells stories to small girls. I never followed the one who killed for vengeance, but I did not like him at all. But now I see a man who loved, who lived and wants to keep living. You used to inspire fear, and even Leliana was putout by you. I believe she even had a small crush that you quashed." The Antivan giggled.

"We are not children Zevran. People are attracted, so let them."

"Yes yes. But once you came out of that tent with Morrigan, you were very different. I like it. You are now the man who keeps watching for his love, one who won't give up. Even if it means periodically going to Flemeth's Hut every few months."

"How did you find out about that?!" I hissed. I'd never took anyone with me but Solomon, and I never told anyone but-

"Alistair." I growled. Zevran threw his head back and roared with laughter.

"Why you confide anything in that bumbling fool I will never know!"

"Careful." I wagged a finger. "You should not speak so poorly of the one paying you." Zevran's eyes widened in mock horror.

"I apologize oh lord!" Zevran wailed to the sky. "Hear me Alistair, and know my shame!"

"Hard to know something that doesn't exist." I clapped Zevran on the back.

"Touché my friend, touché." We walked beside each other in silence for the next hour or two, thankful of the lack of action. Well, at least I was. Zevran was astounded that there were no stupid bandits.

"You're several months too late for that my friend." I said as we approached Vigil's Keep. Zevran's sulking face went away as soon as he saw the Keep.

"Magnifico . . ." He breathed.

"The Commanders back!" Someone shouted from the wall. Slowly, the portcullis raised out of our way.

"Trust me, it wasn't always so impressive." I assured him. "It took a two dwarves, several teams of builders and a couple thousand sovereigns to get it to this stage."

"And where, pray tell, did this 'couple thousand sovereigns' come from?" Zevran's eyes gleamed.

"Looting, darkspawn, bandits, left overs from Howe selling elves and selling bits of dragons and monsters. Quite profitably, actually."

"You kept the money Howe received from selling elves?" I sensed no disgust in Zevran's voice, only slight disappointment.

"No." I said sternly as we walked through the gates. "I used it to repay the very few remaining elves, and I sent a very large portion of it to Alistair to rebuild the Denerim Alienage. You should see it, repairs are coming along quite nicely."

"That is good to hear amico mio. Now, I am tired. Good night. Or rather, day." Zevran waved to me and trotted off. I turned to where he was looking. Over the Waking Sea, I could see the first rays of light from the sun rise.

"Daybreak, just as I promised!" I called to Dorin and Sigrun.

"Alright Boss, you win." Sigrun held up her hands in mock defeat.

"Commander." Came Varel's grave voice.

"One moment." I held up a hand. Turning, I waved the farmer and his family closer. I also waved down two soldiers. When both groups reached me I gave the orders.

"You two will escort this family to Amaranthine. Make sure they make it to the Chantry." I told the soldiers. They saluted and stood to the side, waiting for the family.

"Oh thank you Commander! Dear, look at this! Escorted by the Silver Order!" I waved them goodbye and walked back to Varel. The blasted nickname for my soldiers had sprung up after people had seen them in silverite armour.

"Yes Seneschal?" I asked.

"The ambassadors and visiting dignitaries are awaiting." The older man motioned to the main Keep.

"Blast it, I'd hoped they'd have left by now." I groaned.

"Unfortunately not, Commander. They are quite intent on talking to you." A humourous twinkle shone in Varel's eyes.

"Let's get this over with." I marched off to the giant doors. The four guards saw us coming and quickly pulled them open for Varel and me. As we walked in, I tried to take note of who was here. Far too many people, and my helmet was constricting my vision. Oh blast! Hoping I wasn't showing panic, I began undoing the few screws that The Last hadn't broken. A wondrous idea given to me by a dwarf smith in Orzammar, the screws kept my helmet on while in battle more assuredly that any coif. I managed to get the heavy thing off just as I reached the arl's chair and plunked myself down.

"This session will now commence!" Varel shouted from his standing spot beside me. Quieter, he whispered the first man's name to me. "Garen, a freeholder and ex-soldier whose farm was destroyed during the Blight, wishes to join the Grey Wardens." I looked up at the man in question and he repeated everything Varel had just said.

"Go to the bunks. Find the Warden Nathaniel. Tell him I told him to test you." The farmer bowed and rushed from the hall.

"Next!" Varel shouted. A young woman, a healer by the looks of the medicinal salves and bandages she carried with her, came forwards.

"My arl, I was travelling nearby when I heard that you had suffered a wound to your arm and replaced it with a darkspawn limb. With your permission, I would like to examine it." I burst out laughing, a deep sound that filled the hall. The healer looked stunned. "My arl, this is no joke. If I do not-"

"Enough." I managed, tears forming in my eyes. "I assume you heard this rumour from a dwarf in Grey Warden armour, large axe, red hair?"

"Yes my arl."

"That is Senior Warden Oghren. He is drunk and wrong. My arm was broken, not replaced, and I had my own healers. Though I do thank you, and commend you on your actions." The healer looked surprised at my praise, bowed and left. I looked up at Varel.

"Find her, and recruit her for the men. They need a nonmagical healer." With that settled, I went back to the complaints. The next few were uninteresting, until we came to a tall, gaunt woman, a young man in Templar armour and a scowling elf.

"I do not know who they are. but they have papers from King Alistair." Varel whispered. This interested me. I leaned forwards in my chair, my face almost leaving the shadow I purposely had set up. The shadow covered the top half of my body when I sat, sufficiently covering my expressions.

"Warden-Commander." The woman and the young man knelt. The elf merely continued growling. Gareval, captain of my men, went for his sword, but a hard glare from Mistress Woolsey, standing next to him, stopped him. I looked back to the woman, now standing up with the Templar again.

"We are mages, sent by First Enchanter Irving and Knight-Commander Greagoir." The elf nearly spat. He was obviously not happy with whatever arrangement Irving was trying to make.

"We are here to join the Silver Order." The Templar called out. I looked at him, and he turned red.

"Have you taken your vows?" I interrogated him. "Have you taken lyrium?"

"Not yet Commander." He winced, most likely believing he had failed a test. He hadn't.

"Then why do you wear the armour?" I pushed further.

"I am here at the behest of Knight-Commander Greagoir, to protect the mages." The boy said proudly. An idealist.

"I assume you are here with the full authority of the Templar Order?" I asked. The boy nodded.

"It would seem Loghain's plans for our army have paid off." I whispered to Varel. The seneschal agreed and we both looked to the mages.

"You are permitted to try and join the Silver Order. Mages, you are to be tested by my Senior Warden Velanna, and the Templar will be tested by me. If you pass you will be considered artillery for the most part and will be paid in turn, and the Templar will serve as a lieutenant, watching over you." I commanded.

"What? You would have us not even be people!" The elf exclaimed. He was a spitfire, wasn't he?

"Perhaps I should consider you recruits, not even foot soldiers, and pay you as such." I glared at the youth.

"Ah. My apologies Commander." The elf said bashfully, with prodding from the older woman. They bowed to me, and I waved Gareval up.

"Take the mages to Velanna's quarters. Templar, stay here. I will test you soon." I gave Gareval and the boy their orders. My captain saluted and marched out, the mages. The Templar bowed and moved off to the side of the keep. The rest of my problems were as bland as could be. Two farmers arguing over who go paid, the one who broke the fence or the one who stole some wheat. An elf family who were found sleeping in an abandoned house. I solved most of the problems and sent the elves to Denerim. Then came the Temmerly's and the Orlesians. The Ox's family entered first, uninvited. Two large men and an angry old woman. The men resembled the bastard too much to be hired goons. And the old woman must be his mother, who promised retribution on me in her letter.

"Well, murderer, your time has come!" She shrieked at me as her men (sons?) drew their weapons. "We challenge you to a duel of honour and blood! In the name of my murdered son!"

"You cannot honestly expect the Commander to accept this ridiculousness!" Varel called out from beside me. He stepped forwards and waved to the guards, but I stood and waved them back. Picking up my helm, I glared at them through the eye slits.

"You want a fight? By all means, let me entertain you." I laughed at the old woman. I unslung my shield and drew Vigilance and stepped into the center of the hall, facing the two men. The nobles and commoners alike spread out, giving us quite a bit of room.

"Let us begin." I grinned. Even with the helmet, my head would be a big target. I hoped to use that to my advantage. With a cry of outrage, the woman pushed her men towards me. The bigger one, wielding a heavy axe, rushed up and tried a massive overhead swing. He was obviously untrained, as he when he reached back to slam down his axe he became unbalanced and stumbled right back into his fellow. I, not one to give up opportunity, stepped in and bashed the big one in the chest. He went down with a gasp and a crack. The second man tried to grab my shield and prevent me from blocking, but I merely pulled him in closer and gave him a good kick to the groin. Fight over.

"Seneschal." I called out.

"Yes Commander?"

"Take these men to a healer. I wish to know who they are. As for Lady Temmerly," I turned a harsh gaze on the old woman. "Take her to the dungeons. I will decide her fate another day." Varel issued the orders to some guards and they followed to the letter.

"This is not over!" She shrieked as she was led away. "My son will have vengeance!"

"No, he won't." I whispered. Sheathing my weapons, I marched back to my chair. Before I even made it around the fireplace I felt a hand on my shoulder. No one had tried to stop this person, so I knew it was not an enemy. So, I was rather surprised to see a masked Orlesian and a young girl, also masked, standing before me.

"And you are?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. The young girl giggled and bowed to me. The man offered a curt nod.

"My apologies Commander!" Varel said tiredly as he hurried to us. Raising his voice so the court could hear him. "Introducing the Lady Mirabelle de Montboisser, of Orlais. This is her uncle and guardian, Count Odo de Montboisser." Most people in the hall began muttering angrily, and I couldn't blame them. Orlesians, the old enemy, were now standing here.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, my Lady?" I addressed the girl. I knew this would piss off Odo, not being acknowledged. Good.

"Marriage, my lord." Her eyes shone behind the mask.

"Soyez calme Mirabelle!" The man, Odo, hissed. I retained enough knowledge of Orlesian to know he'd essentially told her to shut up. Odo turned to me and I could see his eyes burning.

"If you would be so kind, Commander," Odo said it slowly, as if he had never said the word 'commander' before. "We would like to sleep before we have an audience."

"Very well." I said. "Varel! Prepare two rooms and escort Lady Montboisser and her guardian to them."

"No! We will share a room!" Odo's voice blanched at the prospect of being separated from his ward. I grunted. Must not have a high opinion of us barbarians.

"Alright." I gave. Better to let him doom himself than insult an ambassador, if that was what he was. I stepped closer to Varel and whispered to the seneschal. "Make sure they're near the barracks. I want to be able to have them watched and detained quickly, if necessary." Varel said nothing, but gave me a light nod. As the Orlesians were all but marched out, I turned to my vassals.

"That will be enough for today. Goodbye." I said respectfully. I received a large bow from most, curt nods from the rest.

"Templar, wait." I called out as I saw the boy leaving. "Your name."

"Felkand, ser."

"Well Felkand, your test starts now." I grinned under my helm. I drew Vigilance and pointed it at the Templar in a challenging pose. "Begin!"