Chapter 2: The Wardens

The last Genlock stumbled over its own feet. Such clumsiness was not characteristic of a marauding Darkspawn, but there was a force dragging it backwards, and it had taken all of its strength to get this far away. Two ogres were on their way to destroy its assailant, but for that jaundiced, grunting beast, the end had arrived.

The telekinetic energy dragging the Genlock down dissipated, but before it could stand, it was hit by a ball of ice. That ice spread and enveloped it upon contact. It stood frozen, until a small but powerful arm crashed a mace upon its neck, shattering a good portion of its body.

The first ogre knocked over a tree and roared. A bolt of electricity struck it in the face, and as it reeled, two dwarves were upon it, hacking at its legs. One leg buckled, then the other.

"I call the head!" One of the dwarves shouted. As the dazed ogre tried to swing an arm, the dwarf spun around, swinging his broad axe in a wide arc, and cutting its throat open. He laughed, and finished the beast with an over handed strike, cracking into its forehead. "Hey Sigrun, you want the other one?"

"Sorry Oghren," the other dwarf replied, a twinge of disappointment in her voice, "she's freezing everything today."

Oghren rested his axe on the dead ogre's shoulder and observed the frozen form of the second ogre.

"By the stone's flop sweat, mage, savor a fight like that!" he laughed.

The mage slung her staff across her back and shrugged. Sigrun, the female dwarf, tapped the frozen ogre with one of her daggers, as if to make sure it wasn't about to wake up.

"I gotta ask, kid, why the rush?" Oghren picked up his axe led his fellows away from the woods. "Or better, when the hell did you get so good at making ice sculptures? I've busted up a million darkspawn in my time, and had a good share of mages slingin' nature at them. Some real powerful ones, too. But I never saw one could just freeze an ogre solid like you. And that ain't even your specialty, right?"

"I'm good at what I do," the mage said. "What else matters? I have magic, and I'm a Grey Warden. So, I use magic to do what Grey Wardens do."

"Humans," Oghren muttered. "Always gotta talk in circles. And steal all my fun!"

The three Wardens returned to Vigil's Keep the next morning. Masons, as was often the case, were patching up a damaged piece of the exterior wall of the great fortress of the Ferelden Grey Wardens. The darkspawn they hunted had been the last of a band that led the most recent raid. That a larger-than-normal compliment of ogres had been part of the attack led Warden leadership to believe that, a decade after the end of the Fifth Blight, the darkspawn hordes were finally getting desperate. The massive creatures were hard to control, and tended to kill almost as many of their allies as their enemies.

"Hawke!" someone called. A younger recruit with a satchel slung over his shoulder, approached the mage. "Hawke, you got some letters."

Bethany Hawke smiled a genuine smile for the first time in several days. For someone who had once been nicknamed "Sunshine", she felt fairly grim most of the time now. She had been "Sunshine" up until she had followed her brother into the Deep Roads and been exposed to the darkspawn taint. It was luck, and the presence of a former Grey Warden, that she'd been able to find Stroud, the high-ranking Orlesian Warden. He had put her through the Joining, saving her from the taint and putting her on a path to heroism. But once one had brushed death the way she had, and seen her old life entirely torn from her, not two years after having to leave the land she'd been born in, being "Sunshine" didn't come as naturally anymore.

But today, she had mail. It wasn't new, necessarily. Her uncle wrote to her every month once she settled in Amaranthine. But there was another letter that came less frequently, and always from a different place. It was the greatest reminder of her old life, and she felt rejuvenated after reading every new one. That there were two letters waiting probably meant it overlapped with Gamlen's latest tale of minor intrigue in Kirkwall, or of how lazy the workers in the Bone Pit were being.

"Hawke, there you are!" Sigrun held her horned helmet under her left arm. The dwarf had, as always, insisted upon waiting to be the last member of her company to reenter the main hall after a mission. "Oghren went ahead-"

"It's barely midday. Think he's reaching for ale or wine?" Bethany asked.

"One, then the other," Sigrun quipped. Bethany chuckled. The letters, even before she read them, had already brightened her mood. "Since he's deep in the tankard already, one of us needs to report back to Stroud. I know it won't take long, we hunted darkspawn, we- mostly you- killed darkspawn, but rules are rules. In the Legion we just found darkspawn and killed them. Similar here, but the reports!"

Bethany zoned out her talkative companion as she entered the main hall of Vigil's Keep.

"Sigrun, can you report to Stroud?" she asked. "I… I have something I'd like to see to."

"Oh, I see," Sigrun answered with a wink. "Get a little bruise while we were out? Got to pay a visit to the healer? I'll leave you to it."

The dwarf playfully punched Bethany in the arm and went off to find the commander. Brushing off the dig about the healer, Bethany slipped off to her room on the second floor. It was only a bit larger than the sparse cells the newer initiates had, but it was a symbol of her status as an accomplished Grey Warden. She'd never had a chance to collect her few personal affects from Kirkwall before having to undergo the Joining, and hadn't bothered to collect much in the way of material possessions since. Sentimentality, she'd decided, was not for her.

Deciding to save the best for last, she set the letter from "Lother Amell" on her nightstand. It was a shock to find that the other letter didn't have the Amell family crest, or the sloppy handwriting of her uncle. It was a name that she didn't often see on letters. And when she opened it, it was addressed in a distinctive way she didn't hear anymore.

Sunshine,

Hope you're having fun in your fancy armor down in Ferelden. I don't know if you've heard, but the rest of the world's going to shit. You've got darkspawn running around the surface like headless chickens, which can't be fun, but go up north a bit, and, well, the easiest way to say it is the most direct: the Veil was ripped open. I mean, literally ripped open over Orlais. The templars and mages can't stop killing each other, just like any place that doesn't have that Alistair geek on the throne. But while they're doing that, monsters like you've never seen- and I know that's saying something- are pouring out and ruining everyone's day.

But I digress. I've been running with a crew trying to restore order before all the nightmares spilling out from the tear. It keeps me busy, but it's worthwhile. So why am I writing you? Well, something's calling me back to Kirkwall, and it isn't anything fun. Somebody dangerous is coming back to our old stomping grounds, because he thinks he can… I don't rightly know. Maybe stop the craziness. Maybe make it worse. If it's the former, he'll need a lot of help, and a soft-spoken Grey Warden who can snap her fingers and summon maelstroms might be an asset. If there's an ulterior motive, same thing. The Wardens let you off for important business sometimes, think they can do it again? Write back to my old place. Hope to see you soon.

-Varric

A name from her past. One of the last to see her, fight alongside her and her brother before the taint, and before the Joining. She harbored no resentment towards him, but she didn't think the dwarf had ever considered that his expedition under the earth was one of the great flashpoints of her life. Still, he was a friend. She knew what his friendship meant to her brother all those years they had been separated. And really, some time away from Amaranthine and the darkspawn wouldn't hurt. She stretched, feeling the soreness in her arms and legs from the mission just concluded. The teasing she'd received from Sigrun notwithstanding, she probably would benefit from a trip to see the healer after a long rest. She looked at Varric's letter then, wondering if Stroud would be the only person who would need to be notified of the request. It would, she figured, be for the best that it be kept to her superior officer. But before that, she had earned a few hours rest in her own bed.