Eria alternated between disgusted and frustrated noises while she combed out the dirt Mariah had acquired during the duel. Though the now clean long sword lay on her dressing table in its sheath, Mariah still held the short sword and cleaning cloth in her lap, idly wiping it down and ignoring the tugs and jerks from the comb in her hair. The brushing eventually became smoother, and was then replaced by the more gentle tugs of Eria rebraiding her hair.

"Perhaps you have time for a late lunch before we go?" the elf offered hesitantly as she curled the braid and pinned it up. "You skipped breakfast, didn't you?"

Mariah grunted, shrugging her shoulders. "Thank you, no. I am…not hungry."

From the noise she made, Eria didn't apparently believe her, but she didn't say anything as she finished pinning up the other braid and wandered over to the wardrobe. Mariah laid the short sword and the cloth aside on her bed. Her arm ached again at the simple movement, so she gingerly untied the bracer and pulled her gauntlet off. A blue and purple stripe ran diagonally across her arm, fading to lighter blue and brown tendrils near her wrist and elbow. Well, that would take quite a while to heal without magical aid. Maybe she shouldn't have been so quick to dismiss the mage's spells.

The familiar clicking sound of claws on stone brought her away from brooding over her arm. A heavy jowled mabari head peaked into the door, short ears perked. When she waved him in, he easily pushed the heavy door aside, and bobbed tail wagging and tongue lolling. As he looked at her though, the tail slowed, and his ears lowered. He closed his mouth and tilted his head to one side, whining inquisitively.

"Yes, Rabbit, I'm afraid I lost," Mariah told him. "No grand adventures for us. Disappointing choice you made, eh, picking me as a mistress?"

He huffed mightily, and made a grumbling noise deep in his chest. Head down, he walking the remaining distance between them and sat heavily near her legs. Even sitting, his head was well above her knees, but he deigned to slouch down so that he could put his massive head on her leg. Then he looked up at her with large, sad eyes that he generally saved for times when he knew fresh venison steak was in the larder…or when he thought she was being melodramatic. Well, he never SAID as much of course, as he couldn't speak, but he sure seemed to have that, "I'm SO sorry you're dying" look in his eyes during those times.

Since she hadn't heard of a recent influx of venison, she was fairly certain she knew which way to take the look he was giving her now.

"Well, look," she said, showing him her arm. "At least you can feel sorry for me over this, can't you?"

His ears perked, and he sniffed her bruised arm curiously for a few moments. Then he snorted. Eria, however, had a much more dramatic reaction. Her slanted eyes rounded, and she clutched the dress she had chosen for Mariah to her chest.

"Do you want me to send for the mage?" she said, this time with very little reluctance. Despite the fact that Eria's words echoed her own thoughts, Mariah shook her head. The thought of the magical knitting made her flesh crawl. Besides, she deserved a couple of days of pain after her performance in the corral.

Eria sighed, then held the dress out in front her of her with a frown. "Oh, you think your chest is bruised like that too?"

The deep blue dress was one of Mariah's favorites; it was thoughtful of Eria to have chosen it. It was handsome yet understated, without the pounds of lace and layers of frills that so many of the recent imports from Orlais sported. It also had a deep, scooping neckline.

"Well," Mariah responded, "at least the color would match the bruising well. "

Eria clucked at her with disapproval and started to reply, but a hesitant knock on the half open door interrupted her. A young page stood nervously at the door. He was a recent arrival, obviously not used to dealing with nobility, and kept shifting from one foot to the other whenever he addressed Mariah as if he was deciding which way to run. Indeed, he did that now as soon as she looked at him. Mariah was still trying to remember his name when he cleared his throat and spoke.

"Your father bids you join him in the main hall." His words tumbled out of him, and he barely waited for her acknowledgement and thanks before finally choosing a direction to run and dashing away.

"I think you frighten him," Eria commented with amusement.

"Me?" Mariah gave her a hurt look. "I'm not frightening. Rabbit, do I frighten people?"

The mabari opened his mouth and lolled out his tongue, his teeth bared in a grin.

"Well, I shall try not to be so much of an ogre, I suppose." She stood, and looked at the dress Eria still held. "I'll need to go ahead and just wear my armor. It seems father has already learned of…." Her shoulders slumped and she let the sentence drop off. It was time, already. She looked grimly down at her new short sword, indecisive for a moment. She picked it up, retrieved its sheath, and held it out to Eria as the elf turned back from putting away the dress. Her eyes widened as she looked down at the sheathed weapon.

"I can't."

"Of course you can. You need something to defend yourself, and I already have one sword that seems it will be little more than expensive decoration. Here. Take it. Hide it on your person. I'll tell father I gave it to you, so you won't get in trouble. Just…try not to go about stabbing ALL of the soldiers with it. That's all I ask."

Eria choked out a laugh, and took the short sword hesitantly. "Are you sure you won't need it?"

"At this point? Hardly. One sword will be plenty for carrying around to make me seem impressive. Look." Mariah walked over to a weapon display on her wall, and pulled down the old but still serviceable shield that hung there. "I'll carry this instead. It might spare me another blow to my arm, anyway." She grinned encouraging, and Eria smiled hesitantly in return. "Please take it. It will make me feel like…."

Like what? She had accomplished something today? Look father, I gave away some of my things. Aren't you impressed?

Mariah turned and busied herself attaching the longer sword to her belt. "It will make me feel better, alright?"

"Thank you."

"Yes, well, you find someplace to stow it away," she said, turning towards the door. "I'll go to meet father."

Eria nodded, and was still staring down at the sword with an unreadable expression on her face when Mariah turned to leave. She had only gone a few steps out into the hall before she turned again, and addressed the war dog that had followed her out the door.

"Rabbit, I'm certain you have more interesting things to do than watch this."

Rabbit tilted his head at her inquisitively. Wrinkling his nose, he huffed, irritated, and trotted away.

She waited until he was well away before continuing on her way to the main hall. To her surprise, her father was not alone when she arrived. Arl Howe had arrived it seemed, and the two did what they always did when they first were together after a long time apart. The reminiscing over the old days had a darker turn than normal, however, as they discussed the darkspawn raids in the south. Mariah dithered in the archway, not particularly eager to have an audience for what she suspected was coming. Glancing about the main hall, she caught sight of the men who had assaulted Eria earlier. They were acting as Arl Howe's personal bodyguard. She would have thought the arl had a better sense of people than to keep such men so close, but it was little wonder the cads had been so bold. Perhaps she should go back on her deal, and tell the arl what had happened. Such men were not trustworthy people to have guarding your back. No, she would mention it to father. He would be able to address the issue with his friend in a more discrete manner.

"I'm sorry, pup; I didn't see you there," her father said, waving her in. Mariah had to force her reluctant feet to move, but hopefully she was able to pretend to calm confidence, anyway. "Howe, you remember my daughter?"

"I see she's become a lovely young woman. Pleased to see you again, my dear."

"And you, Arl Howe," Mariah responded, bowing slightly. Hiding behind formal pleasantries was familiar, and allowed her to try to get her wits about her at the unexpected audience.

"My son Thomas asked after you," Arl Howe continued. " Perhaps I should bring him with me next time."

Maker forfend. "I'd like that," she lied.

"Good! My son's rather fascinated with stories of your prowess as a warrior. I daresay he'd like to test it first-hand."

Long years of practice kept her face smooth, and she forced herself to smile as pleasantly as she could. What was the boy? Fifteen? No, seventeen, now. Based on past behavior, she was certain he would like to try his hand at her in some fashion, though as far as she knew his swordsmanship was little better than his manners. Regardless, she needed to be polite. As the son of her father's best friend and of a powerful local arl, Thomas was a strong contender to be her husband some day, especially now. A great deal of ruthless self-control was required for her to keep a sigh from escaping.

"At any rate, pup, I summoned you for a reason. While your brother and I are both away, I'm leaving you in charge of the castle."

Well, there it was; simple and straight-forward. At least she was spared any comment on the duel. He watched her, and though his tone had been relaxed, she saw the tell-tale worry lines appear at his eyes as she hesitated in her response.

She bowed briefly. "I'll do my best, Father."

His smile was genuine as he clasped her shoulder. "Now that's what I like to hear." He held her shoulder firmly, eyes intent as he continued. "Only a token force is remaining here, and you must keep the peace in the region. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?"

There were few enough bandits in the region anymore. Her father, his arls and his banns had done well in keeping them down in the last few years, a great triumph after the chaos of the last war. Regardless, she understood the message well enough. Some banns might try to use his absence to attempt to get away with more than they normally might. She couldn't show her house as weak while he was gone. This was not an empty gesture. She tried to squelch her disappointment, and remember that being appointed steward was an honor. He smiled at her proudly, and nodded. His eyes turned from intent to mischievous in the blink of an eye, however, and Mariah barely had time to be suspicious before her father continued.

"There's also someone you must meet." He turned to the guards at the door and raised his voice to be heard. "Please…show Duncan in."

Mariah turned towards the door in surprise. There might be many Duncan's wandering about Ferelden, but there was only one she knew of that would likely gain entrance to her father's house and be introduced with no title, though she had never had the chance to meet him in person. The leader of the was still in Highever? She glanced over at her father, and he gave her an amused glance before his face returned to a dignified and patient attentiveness. He knew full well that she had sought out several books on the order, and read up on them out of sheer curiosity. Their history, especially in Ferelden, was fascinating and mysterious, what with their sudden banishment centuries ago and then equally sudden reinstatement by King Maric, Maker rest his soul, when Mariah was very young made for engrossing tales and lively gossip. She had also often asked if she might not meet Duncan at some official event, to try to get some truth to the many stories she'd heard. Just last month, however, she had been sent to inspect fishing ships – FISHING SHIPS – rather than be allowed to attend a tournament held in Duncan's honor. And now her father had arranged this. Her ranting must have had some effect after all.

It was said that a single Warden was the equal of ten men on the battlefield, and Duncan certainly looked capable as he strode confidently into the hall. His armor was dusty from travel, however, and he seemed a tad shorter than the ten feet tall some rumors had described him as.

Not that she had ever believed those particular rumors, of course.

She wondered with some concern if he had been present at her duel earlier. Hopefully not. That would have made a poor first impression, surely. She tried to push that concern aside and, despite her desire to start pelting the man with questions, she held herself to merely watching him with curiosity as he approached her father. He made very proper bow, unsurprising since he had spent so much time in the royal court over the last two decades. "It is an honor to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland," Duncan said smoothly.

Arl Howe frowned, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Your Lordship, you didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present."

Her father turned to Howe and raised his eyebrows in surprise at his friend. "Duncan arrived at the castle just recently, unannounced. Is there a problem?"

Howe smiled wanly. "Of course not, but a guest of this stature demands a certain protocol. I am…at a disadvantage."

The arl looked positively pale, which puzzled Mariah. Yes, there were some protocols to having such a guest, but they were hardly onerous. It wasn't as if he would be expected to start handing over expensive gifts, or give up his guest room to go sleep in the stables. Perhaps he wasn't a fan of the order? Some people WERE still nervous that they had been reinstated after so many centuries of exile, but she wasn't aware that the arl was among those. Curious.

"We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person, that's true," her father continued. Then he turned to her. "Pup, Brother Aldous taught you who the Grey Wardens are, I hope?"

Mariah dropped her inspection of Howe and looked at her father dryly. To indulge her curiosity and give her a pleasant surprise would have been at least part of the reason that Duncan had not been announced the moment he had gotten close to Highever. If father wanted to play this type of game, however, she was up to it. She rolled her eyes dramatically at the ceiling and looked thoughtful for a moment, as if dredging up some half-forgotten lesson from long ago. Some smart alec responses occurred to her, but their guest deserved better, and she decided the short and simple route was best.

"They defeated the darkspawn long ago," she said, which was true enough.

"Not permanently, I fear," Duncan responded. She bowed her head in acknowledgement, slightly embarrassed at her choice of words. If they had been completely defeated, then there wouldn't be any attacking southern Ferelden now, of course. She hoped it hadn't come off as any sort of accusation.

"Without their warning of the darkspawn rising now, half the nation could have been overrun before we'd had a chance to react." Mariah nodded at her father, relieved. That was expertly smoothed over. "Duncan is looking for recruits before joining us and his fellow Wardens in the south. I believe he's got his eye on Ser Gilmore."

Mariah looked at her father in surprise. Ser Gilmore had a very good reputation, and had taught many of father's people swordsmanship, including herself. He was her brother's best friend. He would also the leader of the guards her father would be leaving under Mariah's care while she was steward of the castle. While having him recruited into the Warden's would be an honor, it would also leave her without a trusted knight to aid her. Mariah bit her lip thoughtfully, running through the names and abilities of the other knights that would likely stay behind as to who might take his place if that happened. Though father likely had an idea or two on that account, it might be one of her first decisions while he was away, and she wanted to have some names to offer.

"If I might be so bold," Duncan said after a moment's hesitation, "I would suggest that your daughter is also an excellent candidate."

Her father's reaction was immediate. He stepped between the two of them, his tone even, but his body language defensive and challenging.

"Honor though that might be, this is my daughter we're talking about." His voice held barely restrained alarm.

Mariah was stunned. All she could think of at first was that it was quite apparent that Duncan probably HADN'T seen the duel, though that seemed to be a rather ludicrous thing to be relieved about. She had to wonder what kinds of tall tales had been circulating on her prowess to fool Duncan into thinking she could make a good recruit. Weren't Grey Wardens recruited from the best and most experienced warriors? She blinked, and realized both her father and Duncan were looking at her expectantly. She snapped her mouth closed when she realized it had been hanging open. What was she to say to this? She was fascinated with the order, and excited by Duncan's visit, but her studies told her that those who entered the Grey Wardens had to abandon all family ties. Give up the Cousland name? Never.

"I'm honored that you think so, ser, but I've no interest in becoming a Grey Warden," she replied as firmly and respectfully as she could manage.

Her father gave her a relieved smile, then turned to the Grey Warden. "Do you hear that, Duncan? My daughter is not interested. So unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription…?"

That hadn't occurred to her. Technically, Duncan had the right to take even a teyrn's daughter, if he so chose. Her stomach tightened in sudden concern.

"Have no fear." Duncan looked at her with mild disappointment, but still offered a reassuring smile. "While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I've no intention of forcing the issue."

He was actually disappointed at her refusal. Why did she feel guilty? She fancied herself skilled enough with the blade, but hardly the experienced warrior that such an order would seek.

"Pup, can you ensure that Duncan's requests are seen to while I'm gone?"

Now that her alarm had past, her enthusiasm and curiosity returned full force. Duncan would be staying in the castle. She would have a chance to ask her questions and get to know an actual Grey Warden! Staying behind apparently would have SOME advantages. She found herself bouncing up on her toes in barely restrained enthusiasm.

"Of course," she responded immediately, offering Duncan a friendly smile. Hopefully she would be able to make up for this initial awkwardness in the coming days.

"In the mean time, find Fergus and tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me."

Her face fell. After springing this sort of surprise for her, he was sending her away? "But I'd like to stay and talk to Duncan."

Her father's eyes crinkled in pleased amusement. "You'll have plenty of time after we're gone." He turned serious, however, as he motioned to the other two men. "We must discuss the battle plans in the south. Be a good lass and do as I've asked. We'll talk soon."

She bowed to her father, turned to give another bow to Duncan, and then gave a final, shallower one to Arl Howe. It occurred to her briefly as she left that she had forgotten to bring up the behavior of the arl's men with her father. Well, there would be plenty of time later, and there were more important things to attend to now.