"A scandal?" Duran asked with intrigue to one of the warriors in the grand stand in the Proving Grounds.

"Yes, you just missed it, Lord Aeducan. The Grey Wardens are in Orzammar searching for recruits, so the Warrior caste arranged a Proving today. The goal was for the Wardens to recruit the winner, bringing him honour and a chance for glory."

"I'm guessing that it didn't turn out so well," Gorim commented.

"Indeed," replied the warrior, "Ser Everd, fresh from fighting darkspawn, got dead drunk before the Proving. Then some casteless bruiser took Ser Everd's armour, wore it, and won the Proving! Against a Silent Sister initiate!"

"Ha! Good for him!" Duran chuckled, "What happened to him after he won? I presumed he was exposed?"

"She, my lord," the warrior cautiously corrected, "She was taken away to prison. I guess she'll be meat for the darkspawn soon enough. The Warrior caste is in an uproar. An incident like this raises many questions."

Duran stroked his beard in thought. "One question I would like answered is where she'd learned to fight and win against even a warrior of the Silent Sister order. Maybe if I'm lucky I could spar with her before she's condemned."

"I don't think your father would approve, my lord," Gorim inputted.

"True," Duran reluctantly agreed, "Still, to think one with such talent would be casteless. It's a pity I'll never see her in action."

"All this talk of casteless and surface dwarves doesn't exactly appeal to me," Gorim said, "I think we should head to the feast now, you are the main attraction after all, my lord."

Duran breathed out a bored sigh. "To be honest, my friend, I'd rather be in the arena right now..."


One hour later...

CLANG!

Duran's greatsword smashed against Mandar Dace's sword in the arena as the crowds cheered for action. Up in the grand stand Gorim was indeed showing his skill of cheering while King Endrin was smiling down at his son's performance.

"He's going easy on your son, Ronus," he proudly said to Lord Dace beside him, "Mandar's slowing down while I can't see a drop of sweat on Duran's head!"

"My son will prevail and retain our family's honour, your highness," Lord Dace retorted.

The king responded with a great laugh that bellowed within the royal stand. "You can only hope Dace," he gasped after laughter, "You can only hope..."

Duran swung his greatsword with ease as Mandar clumsily dodged to the right. Mandar was indeed slowing down as his movements became more ragged. Duran, on the other hand, did not seem to have used hardly any fatigue even with the swings of his large blade. 'Time for a nice finish,' Duran thought as his tactical mind scanned his opponent's movements, watching the way Mandar's left knee trembled slightly at every jump, the way Mandar favoured using his right side to swing his sword, and the time it took for Mandar to pull back his arm after every strike. Duran watched, dodged and waited for the opening he knew that was coming. 'Have to this... NOW!'

As Mandar stepped back from a feint of a swing Duran turned his sword so the side was facing Mandar's stomach. With one swing the greatsword whammed into Mandar's torso and winded him. As Mandar tried to take his breath back the Lord Aeducan his sword down on Mandar's chest, a stream of blood that burst out as the sword left its cut. Mandar Dace fell back first to the ground.

He didn't move.

The announcer called out after Mandar fell, "The Proving is at an end. Mandar Dace has been found wanting by the ancestors, and House Dace is guilty of dishonouring House Aeducan."

With pride Duran raised up his sword for the crowd and they cheered at their prince's victory for honour. "Forgive me, Mandar," he whispered, "May the ancestors humbly accept you to the Stone, as your father tried to use you and I to restore what he lost." With a slight bow Duran left the arena.

Duran made his way back to the palace along with Gorim to see the entire House cheering for him. Lord Dace was absent, not surprisingly since he had just lost his son, Duran made a mental note to honour Lord Dace's son with a burial for his fight. When Duran had a full view of the throne room he noticed the human man who had been there before but he had not spoken to. But the man was already walking up to and gave him a slight bow.

"Greetings, my Lord Aeducan," the dark-skinned man greeted him, "My name is Duncan. It is an honour to meet you at last."

Knowing that only one kind of outsider was welcomed by his father, Duran greeted back, "The honour is mine, Grey Warden."

Duncan smiled and gave Duran a nod. "I had the opportunity to meet with your father, he speaks highly of you. He says you may be the most skilled warrior in all of House Aeducan."

Duran rubbed the back of his neck and modestly replied, "Father always does me a great honour."

"I have no doubt it is deserved," Duncan replied back, "We need more Grey Wardens like you, and quickly."

Curious of the scandal he had heard, Duran decided to ask the one the Proving it was held for. "I heard that a Proving was held for the Grey Wardens earlier today to help with your recruitment. I also heard there was some... trouble when it ended."

"Indeed," Duncan answered without waver, "Such a skilled warrior had already bested the top fighters the Provings could offer, but because the woman was without a caste she was condemned. It seems equality is not a desired trait among the royals."

"I'm curious to see whether or not she is a challenging warrior," Duran commented, "Casteless or not, she did beat those warriors while the ancestors watched." The prince paused at this and then lifted his hand to his chin in ponder, "If I were you I would make her a Grey Warden!" He smiled at the possibility to become a member of the prestigious order while Duncan raised an eyebrow at the prince's shine to the Grey Warden name.

"Do you have time to look for her?" Duran asked Duncan, bringing him out of his thoughts, "I could ask my father if we could bring her to you."

"I'm afraid I've already tried that option," Duncan answered with a hint of disappointment, "I asked your father if I could see her but when he summoned the guards to fetch her they claimed to have lost her in the dungeons and could not recognise her among so many casteless. I suspect something is amiss."

Gorim snorted. "Probably the carta. This woman was probably working for them and messed up her job when she was exposed. I'll bet ten sovereigns that the carta managed to bribe the guards to hand her back to them so they can punish her their own way."

Duncan put his hand up to his chin in thought. "Interesting," he said coolly before bowing in polite to the prince, "Forgive, Lord Aeducan, but I must speak to my men for a moment. Though before I do I believe you have a presenting to hold."

"You're absolutely right, Duncan," Duran politely mowed back, "Thank you for reminding me before I forgot my biggest honour of the day."

Duncan nodded before turning to his fellow Warden behind him. He whispered to him, "Do you remember the route through the Deep Roads we planned from the Shaperate's maps?"

The other Grey Warden slowly nodded with confusion evident on his face. "Of course, Duncan. Why do you ask?"

"There's a slight change in plans, you see," Duncan answered his comrade's confusion. "I need to-"

"Lords, ladies," King Endrin's voice broke the conversation. Duncan gave the other Warden a nod, telling him that they will discuss further before turning his attention to the King. "Grant me a moment of your time," the King of Orzammar continued with pride in his voice, "We are here today so I may present to you my second eldest child. Blessed by the stone and born of the blood that ran in the veins of the Paragon Aeducan. Who would pose a question to the prospective commander? Who seeks to know the prospect better?"

Silence reigned in the hall. Nobody spoke a word of objection. King Endrin, pleased with the silent and anonymous agreement, spoke proudly, "No? Very well then, the ritual is complete. I give you Orzammar's next commander, Duran Aeducan!"

The nobles cheered and clapped at the announcement of Duran's new title. Gorim gave Duran a friendly elbow in congratulations.

With a wave of the king's hand the cheering died down and King Endrin began to speak again, "Tomorrow, our newest commander will lead part a mission to strike a great blow to the darkspawn. Not only does this recover access to some of our most important mines," he paused, gesturing to Duncan, "but it also allows our honoured guest Duncan, head of Ferelden's Grey Wardens, to strike far into the Deep Roads."

In kind Duncan gave a slight bow. "Thank you King Endrin. While the darkspawn seem to withdraw, it is only because they are massing on the surface. This could mean a Blight and my men will discover the truth."

"We are honoured to have you with us, my friend," the King replied, "Now, feast, drink and celebrate, for the morning brings battle!" As the audience in the hall cheered the King turned to his second eldest son. "As for you my new commander, find your brother Trian and send him to me. He may be watching the Provings or getting some rest in his room."

Duran smiled brightly to his father. "Consider it done, my King," he said, emphasising the last word with slight humour.

King Endrin caught his son's gist and in turn replied, "Walk well, commander."

As the crowd of nobles feasted and drank ale Duncan returned to his conversation with his fellow Grey Warden. "When we set out for the Deep Roads tomorrow, start without me. There's something that I need to take care of..."


The first thing Natia felt as she rose back to consciousness was the hard and sandy ground beneath her fingers. She fluttered her eyes open to light the dim orange lights that filled the space she occupied reveal the rough stone ceiling that had cobwebs growing in each corner where the ceiling met the walls. From the corner of her eye Natia saw the iron bars that took place of where a wall should be. She could feel that she lighter and the fact that she felt her bare skin of her upper shoulders touching the ground and the few grains of sand on it, which shouldn't be possible if she had her leather armour on. Curious, she rose up from her laying position.

That's when she felt the pain.

"Agh!" The dwarven casteless gripped her head and clenched her eyes as a stabbing and stinging pain attacked her senses from the back of her head. She rolled back to the ground, bobbing her upper body back and forth in an attempt the ease the physical agony. She forced her eye lids to open, to see why she could feel some of her skin contact open air instead of the inside of her armour. Her left hand drifted open to the centre of her vision, seeing her glove no longer adorned on it. Laying the hand on her stomach she had little trouble guessing that her leather armour had been stripped from her as she instead felt the stitched and patched singlet she wore underneath her armour. She sighed and asked to herself out loud, "What hit me...?"

A welcomed and at the same time unwelcomed voice answered, "Judging by the size and shape of the bruise, a mace. Steel made too."

Natia turned to the source of the voice and saw through the bars of what she recognised now as a prison cell Leske, stuck in an identical cell across from hers.

"The better question would be, 'how hard did they sodding hit you anyway?'Did you have to put up such a fight?"

"Leske!" Natia called to her friend/partner/occasional punching bag. She winced as the pain at the back of head jabbed her but soon subsided as she stood up and held the iron bars with both hands. "What in the sodding pits of the Dark Roads happened?!"

"Jeez, calm down Natia," Leske said from his cell, trying to dampen his partner's cries. "Listen, as soon as everyone saw your face-brand, the place went mad. Shut all the doors, examined everyone for family and caste." At this point, Leske's face scrunched as he said, "One of the guards recognised me and figured we must be working together. They burned three candles to the stump interrogating me about who set us up to this." He looked around, as if in case someone was listening and then told Natia, "I think they knew, you know, about Beraht."

Natia's fingers squeezed the bars of her cell harder than before as Beraht was mentioned. She hissed through her teeth, thinking about her sister and Beraht. 'Dammit,' she mentally swore, 'if Beraht knows about this then he'll go after Rica. I've got to get outta here.'

Leske watched her silently as Natia's frustration became apparent through her fingers. Then he decided to break the silence, "Hey Natia, I know this looks bad, but all we have to do is break out and go find Beraht and explain all this. He surely can't blame us for Everd getting drunk."

"Oh, he will," Natia replied with venom at her tongue, "He'll blame us, torture us, butcher us and then go after our loved ones for something we had no control over. That's the way these crime lords work. They're just a house and dozens of sovereigns away from being nobles."

"... Rica's going to be okay." Natia's head snapped up at that, looking to Leske with a mix of surprise and dim hope. Leske went on, "I know you Natia, and I know you'll figure out some way of getting us and Rica out alive. I bet whatever coin I got left, which isn't much but it's all I got, that I'm right about you... Champ."

Natia stared just a little longer at Leske as if he just made out with a darkspawn until she lightly laughed. "Champ? Is that supposed to be my nickname now?"

Leske shrugged and said, "I guess. I mean, you did win a Proving."

"An invalid Proving, which means that precious here's the Champ of nothing." As that voice rang out, Natia's fierce grip on the bars of her cell returned.

Jarvia practically waltzed into the jail room with a smug smile that pulled her casteless brand on her cheek higher.

"Jarvia," Natia growled. "What the sodding hell do you want?"

"To jeer and laugh at your expense of course," Jarvia replied with a smug tone, "Because of your mistake the Proving was announced invalid and Beraht lost a hundred sovereigns for Lord Vollney. As you can believe, he was very disappointed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," was all Natia said, dripping in sarcasm, to the person she considered a 'Queen Bitch.' "Now that I've expressed my upmost apologies, TELL ME WHERE WE ARE!"

"Be quite, precious," Jarvia warned with her smile growing wider. "I've always said that you were the one most likely to be more trouble than worth. You've just earned the privilege of touring the deep cells of Beraht's estate, which was built deep within Orzammar. A good place to stash gold and lyrium."

"And prisoners, I bet," Natia snapped, "I'm also gonna guess that no one's gonna hear us from down here."

"Right you are, precious," Jarvia confirmed, "You nearly exposed Beraht and the Carta to the entire warrior caste. Beraht wanted me to take you off the guards' hands so he could deal with your loose lips personally."

Natia moved her eyelids together further, intensifying the glare. "I'm not scared of him."

"Oh I don't think he wants to scare you," Jarvia jeered, "Sorry I had to put you two in separate cells because tonight could've been one last night for you two to tumble."

"Save me the fake sympathy, bitch. And even if we were in the same cell I wouldn't do it with the person I consider a brother and too ugly to tumble with anyway."

"I'm flattered and offended in the same breath," Leske commented.

Jarvia scoffed and turned to walk away. "Have a nice last night alive precious."

As soon as she left the room the guard took over watching the doomed duo. He stared blankly into space while having his back to Natia and Leske with his head swaying from side to side every once in a while. A few minutes of observing the guard's slow habits, it became apparent to the two that the guard wasn't the sharpest blade in the armoury.

"Guy doesn't look too bright if you ask me," Leske whispered to his partner.

"Yeah," Natia agreed, "Like a nug..." Then, as if a lightbulb... or a torch in this lore... lit up above her head, her face brightened. "Leske, you remember that trick we used to catch those nugs when we were younger?"

Leske nodded but raised an eyebrow on how would a childhood memory be so significant at their time of doom. Natia pointed at the guard and then signalled a strangling motion to Leske and that was when Leske raised both eyebrows in acknowledgement. The duo waited a few more minutes to get their heads together until Natia spoke out very loudly, "Hey, you!"

The guard turned to the imprisoned dwarf and walked over to her. "W-what is it?" he asked in a slow and deep manner.

Natia reached into her sock and pulled out a couple of silvers to show to the guard. "I've got something for you..."

"Oohh..." was all the guard said in response to the sight of coin. He walked closer to the bars of the cell but then caught himself, saying, "I-I can't! Mistress Jarvia said not to talk or deal with yo-"

"SQQUEEEE!"

The guard jumped and turned at the sudden squeal. "Huh! W-wha-"

Natia pounced at the opportunity, literally and figuratively. Her arm flew past the bar as far as she could make it and hooked the guard's neck with it. She pulled hard and didn't relent as the guard tried to pull her off for vital air supplies. A few seconds later, the guard's arms fell limp by his sides.

"I see that you still sound perfectly like a nug at times," Natia teased as she quietly celebrated the success in her mind.

"I'm proud of my years of practice," Leske said with a smile and a shrug, "I knew it would save lives someday."

As she looted the guard's body for the keys to the cell doors through the bars she remarked, "Don't get too proud, I'm sure there were other ways of getting out of here than that. Ah!" She said proudly as she picked up the keys. Unlocking her cell door she didn't hesitate to unlock Leske's.

"You know..." Leske started, now sounding more serious and anxious, "If we want to get out of this alive, we can't leave one man alive to tell Beraht what we've done."

Natia walked over to a chest outside of their cells and found all of their confiscated armour and weapons inside. Not waiting for her partner, she slipped her leather armour back on, thankful for the feel of non-exposure, and held her daggers where she felt where they belonged most, in her hands. She motioned her head to Leske, a silent command to suit up, and said, "Best idea you've had all day."


Meanwhile, in the Deep Roads...

"My Lord."

Duran Aeducan snapped his head up as his friend and second addressed him. "Yes Gorim?"

"You've been acting distant since we fought those men who wanted the shield. Is this about your brother?"

Duran looked away as he fiddled with something in his right hand. "Everything's fine my friend. I've just... been wondering about the darkspawn that could be ahead."

Gorim didn't believe what his prince and friend said but decided not to push it further. "Of course. We still have a bit a ground to cover to get to the rendezvous."

Duran just nodded and said, "Yes, yes of course..." But as he opened his right palm that held Trian's signet ring the words of his younger brother plagued his mind...

Yesterday

"My brother, Trian is going to try to kill you."

Usually, Duran was not easily baffled out of his usual cheerfulness and optimistic mood. But the words Bhelen just said had great impact. Duran shook off his surprised and reasoned, "That's sounds a tad far-fetched Bhelen. I mean, Trian may not be the most exemplary brother known to the ancestors but I don't believe he would resort to murdering his siblings."

"I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't heard Trian giving the orders to his men," Bhelen countered, disappointment was apparent in his voice. "Trian's decided you're a threat to his right to the throne. And he may be right."

"Not the whole 'Lesser sibling of an unloved prince takes the throne' scenario again," said Duran, exasperated by what seemed to be a familiar topic. "I know it's happened before but I've already made it clear to the Assembly that I have no desire for the throne. It's Trian's right as far as I'm concerned with the politics."

"You may not have a choice, my lord," Gorim inputted, seeing his friend's annoyance of the situation. "Though a King may be a great power and ruling figure of Orzammar, it is the Assembly's decision that is absolute when it comes to choosing a King. Your father will not live forever and the throne will most likely go to the favoured Aeducan. Favoured by the Assembly, not your father."

"He's right brother," Bhelen agreed, "Trian thinks you've become more favourable of inheriting the throne than he is. You slaughtered the son of House Dace, one of the most powerful houses in Orzammar because his father dared to challenge your house's honour. If you win glory against the darkspawn tomorrow that will only strengthen the case of your right to the throne."

Duran pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, "This is why I wanted to be Commander, take orders from my King and never have to worry about the politics ever again."

"With all due respect my lord, I did warn you that wasn't a well thought-out plan."

"Thank you Gorim. And it's not helping."

Bhelen snorted at his older sibling's revealed plan. "Always the battle genius, but never the political genius. Brother, what are you going to do about Trian?"

"I won't fight him," Duran replied, plain and simple, "I'm sure there's enough of a brother in him for him to realise that I'd support him for the throne and that the Assembly can kiss dust for all I care on that matter."

Bhelen nodded, albeit, slightly concerned. "You are my elder, I'll respect any decision you please be careful. I don't want to lose the brother I actually like."

Duran placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and replied, "Nor I you. Good luck and good night Bhelen."

"Good night to you too, Duran."

Bhelen took his leave, leaving Duran and Gorim alone to ponder about his warning. "Sir-"

"Gorim," Duran interrupted Gorim before the second word left his lips, "I need a friend to talk to now, not a servant or one considered my underling. You know how much I dislike that."

Gorim paused at his friend's demeanour, and then finally spoke again, "Duran, do you really believe that Trian won't kill you?"

Duran took in a breath before answering, "He's my brother Gorim. We grew up together and we knew our places in each other's lives. I have to have faith in him."

Present

'Trian...' Duran's own voice spoke his brother's name like a long and echoed whisper, 'Like the Shield of Aeducan that I have retrieved on my back I still persevere with my faith in you.'

"Commander!"

The voice of the dwarven archer that accompanied Duran and Gorim down the Deep Roads called Duran back to the real world. He rushed over to the dwarf under his command and asked, "What is it men?"

The archer pointed at monument which was the mark of their rendezvous and reported, "Bodies up ahead, it doesn't look like a darkspawn attack since they weren't mutilated or clawed at."

The dwarven prince rushed over to the scene of the crime and knelt down beside the bodies of numerous soldiers. But only one caught the most concern out of Duran. "Trian!"

Gorim rushed over to Duran's side right after the cry. As he saw the body of Duran's brother he stumbled but caught himself in time to stop at beside his friend. "By the Stone, it is Trian!"

Duran, in all his years of training, looked over the body of his brother. A few slashes that bled blood could be plainly seen on Trian but the indication of a killing blow was the arrow stuck in the left side of his chest. Duran clenched his fist in sorrow and rage, but refused to let a single tear escaped his eyes as the fact his brother was beyond saving became painstakingly clear. He slowly stood up, his eyes closed and took a deep breath before saying, "We have to tell my father. He'll want to know what-"

The archer interrupted, "Someone's coming!" and conveniently snuck away with the other soldier who accompanied them.

Duran turned to see Bhelen, his father, Lord Harrowmont and more soldiers approaching. Bhelen was in the lead and speaking, "Hurry father! Before it's too..."

They spotted Duran and the body of Trian under him and all of them stopped in disbelief and surprise. Duran, however, spotted Bhelen's face betrayed no emotion. The king pushed Bhelen out of his way to his other sons, staggering when he reached the body of his eldest.

"By all the ancestors," the king swore in grief, "What has happened here?"

Duran knelt beside his father and opened his mouth to tell him about how he found the bodies when Bhelen's apparent second said, "It seems we didn't get here fast enough, Bhelen was right!"

"Bhelen?" Duran looked to his younger brother, his face in question of what was going on. But Bhelen still remained silent and stoic, even with the sight of his brother's pleading look.

"My son... Duran... tell me this isn't what it looks like," The king pleaded to his second child.

Duran looked to his father, eye directly to eye, and told him the truth, "I only just got here father."

"Just long enough to slay Trian," Bhelen spat. Duran was surprised to hear the words leave Bhelen's lips.

"Brother, what are you-"

"My lord is innocent my King!" Gorim proclaimed in steed of his prince.

"Sir Gorim, your loyalty makes you a useless witness," Harrowmont declared, but though he seemed passive and calm in saying so, it was clear that he was having trouble coming to terms of what looks like what transpired The archer and soldier came out from their hiding places without having the others notice they had returned. "It falls to others to tell the story." He pointed to the archer. "You, scout. Tell us what you saw."

"Trian and his men were here early," the archer said, with more confidence than Duran and Gorim heard from him put together, as if rehearsed. "It seems they done battle with the darkspawn. Commander Duran Aeducan went up to him in a friendly manner, but then he gave the order to attack Lord Trian."

"What!" Duran exclaimed, "That's a lie!"

Harrowmont halted the prince with a reach of his hand. "Then we will discover the truth."

Bhelen's second took up the opportunity to ask, "Frandlin Ivo, you are a good and noble man, does the scout speak true?"

The soldier, apparently Ivo, replied, "He..." A scowl and a glare from Bhelen to Ivo slowed down the soldier's response, "... he did my lord. It was terrible. Prince Trian didn't stand a chance. Afterward, my lord stripped his signet ring."

Gorim's face was scrunched in rage as he shouted, "You treacherous bastards!"

"Silence Gorim!" the king declared, having enough of this impromptu trail. He turned to his second eldest son, bit his lip and asked, "Do you have anything else to say, my son?"

"Father! Can't you see that I've been set up?!" Duran cried to the king, desperate and despaired by the false witness reports and the planted evidence of his 'crime.'

"I want to believe that Duran," the king answered his child, "You have no idea how much..."

Lord Harrowmont saw the pain between the loving father and son and decided to hasten the end of it. "Bind him and Gorim. They will be judged by the Assembly. To Orzammar!"

Bhelen's men took hold of Duran's arms but the prince struggled and reached to his father as the group left the scene with the king kneeling with his eldest. "Father!" he cried every time he managed to release his arms but the cries were not answered, "FATHER!"


Beraht's Estate

SHINK!

'cough!' was all the thug managed to say as a dagger went right through his throat and out the side of his neck. Blood spilled onto the cavern floor as the thug fell down lifeless. The wielder of the dagger brought out a handkerchief from a storage crate nearby and wiped the blood off the dagger. She scowled at the amount of blood was spilled. "Clean killing is apparently something I need to work on," Natia remarked as she examined her blades, "Though I'm making sure Beraht's death will be as messy as possible."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Leske called from behind as he stopped looting the bodies of the poor thugs that had come their way. "Who said we need to go after Beraht? All we need to do is gut everyone in our way to the exit and make sure Beraht never sees us again!"

"Leske, don't be an idiot now of all times," Natia reprimanded her partner, "You think Beraht's gonna stop trying to get us? I know him, Leske, I know he'll stop at nothing to silence us to keep the secrets we know about him. If we don't get him he'll get us, plain and simple."

Leske hung his head back as he realised the logic of the situation, "Agh, I hate it when you're right."

"You can't hate me that much," Natia joked but her humour was soon discarded as she approached a metal door at the end of the corridor. "Looks like this is it," she said as she opened the door. The first words she heard when she entered the room made her blood boil.

"I'm cutting the whore free. If that freak of a sister of hers can't stay in place, then I don't need precious Rica either."

Beraht's words were at the heart of Natia's attention. She was tempted to storm in alone and stab Beraht no matter the cost but she knew that the two other men with him would be a problem.

Unfortunately for them they said the wrong words a few seconds later. "Rica? The one you got up in lace?" one of the underlings asked Beraht, "I've been wanting to get my hands on that..." he finished with a suggestive tone.

"She's all yours boys," Beraht declared, "And let me tell you, it tastes as good as it looks."

SHUNK!

Beraht jumped back as a knife stuck itself into the head of one of the thugs he was talking to. The thug died instantly and Beraht twirled his head in the direction the knife came from to see Natia with her hand out, indicating how the knife was thrown into his subordinate.

Natia withdrew her hand as Leske came to her side. She snorted, "Damn, missed your fat head."

"You whore!" Beraht yelled. He readied his axe and shield and gestured to his remaining thug, "Kill the bitch and that nug!"

Natia ran towards Beraht at full speed. In response to the rush Beraht held up his shield expecting a knife attack. Instead, Natia leapt up, causing Beraht to angle his shield upward as well. Natia used this to jump on and off the shield and over Beraht. She landed with a roll and withdrew her dagger from the deceased thug's head, once again having two daggers. She held her daggers with the blades down and motioned her two fingers back and forth in gesture. "Bring it, you son of a bitch."

The other thug was about to charge but Beraht cut him off. "Take care of the nug," he ordered, "The bitch's mine."

Thug turned to face Leske but to his surprise, Leske was nowhere to be seen. "What the-"

Leske appeared behind him and swung his knives with a greeting, "Peek-a-boo."

Beraht wildly swung his axe left and right like a berserker but he couldn't lay a scratch on Natia as she was weaving through her opponent's attacks side to side. She then side stepped him and punched out her arm, the dagger in her hand cutting Beraht's shoulder.

"Arg!" the Carta leader cried, which in response he began swinging harder and faster. Natia shifted back into her dodging stance and might as well have danced while she was at it because no matter how hard Beraht swung in her direction she was left untouched.

"What's the matter Beraht?" Natia jeered in near delight, "Can't catch a single whore? No wonder you could never sire a child for the nobles."

Beraht roared in further rage and charged with an intended shield bash. Natia dashed to the side, leaving Beraht to bash into a wall and fall back from the impact. He had bashed his face into the wall as well, giving him a bleeding nose as a complimentary gift. He shook off his pain and this time he decided to fight more cautiously. He and Natia stalked each other in circular motion, awaiting the next attack. Natia lashed out first with a kick on Beraht's shield which pushed him back. She didn't stop the attack just yet as she kept jumping from side to side and swinging her daggers to any possible opening Beraht revealed. Beraht was getting slower, it became hard for him to think let alone dodge the incoming knife cuts as pain began to harass him from all the bee stings of cuts Natia was giving him. Natia leapt back and disappeared in a small burst of smoke and out of Beraht's vision. When Beraht had realised she had disappeared he turned around again and again, knowing that a stab to the back may be imminent.

"Where are you..." he growled, his anger rising even higher than before. Fed up with the thorn in his side he yelled, "WHERE ARE YOU!"

SHUNK!

Beraht felt immense pain in his lower back but he shock was holding back his words. He did howl in agony but he managed to turn to face Natia.

But she was not there either.

Beraht's eyes shifted left and right, desperately searching for the dwarf rogue, until a kick to his back made him fall over. "Oof!"

As he fell he lost his grip on his axe and it clattered onto the ground. Beraht landed on his front, his shield restricting his right arm. He used his left arm to lift himself but a foot slammed onto his back and brought him back down. Then he felt his hair being tugged upward, bringing his head up to expose his neck. A blade soon met the flash of his neck and he heard Natia's voice behind him.

"I'm no longer afraid of you."

SLASH!

Natia sliced her blade across Beraht's throat and the floor below was stained with a thick line of blood. Natia stood up from the new corpse and stared long and hard at the man she hated for so long. "Good riddance."

She turned to face Leske, whom she knew was just about finished with the underling as he was already looting his pockets. Leske stood up and went to his partner, a smile bright and shining across his face. "Did you see the way he looked when you used that smokescreen?" he asked with joy and excitement in his voice, "He looked like he was going to wet himself! You just charged in and sodding slaughtered him like a nug! You have to be the luckiest duster in Orzammar, Champ! Beraht's dead and we're still standing! Hail to the sodding king!"

Natia smirked. Her friend never failed to brighten the mood when he needed to. "It sounds like he never made it to Rica. For once, I think the ancestors have blessed me."

"Wouldn't hurt to check on her though," Leske suggested, albeit with some ulterior motives, "Can you tell her I killed Beraht? I mean, there's no point in letting her think you're the most virile warrior in all the Stone..."

Natia's eyelid twitched as she reached for her dagger again.

"OR maybe not," Leske added quickly when he saw her hand approach the weapon.

Natia rolled her eyes and walked past him. "Let's just get out of here."


In the midst of another jail cell somewhere else in Orzammar, Duran Aeducan sat with his back on the wall with his face drooped in sorrow and anxiousness. His armour was removed as well as his weapons, leaving him in his cloth tunic. Wallowing in sadness, Duran awaited the judgement of the Assembly.

"Bhelen..." he said to himself, "Why?"

The sounds of footsteps reached his ears. He stood up and walked to the bars of his cell to see his dear friend. "Gorim!"

"Duran," Gorim greeted in a sad tone as he approached the cell, "Forgive me. I... I would've come sooner if they had allowed me. How are you?"

"Never mind me, my friend," Duran answered, "I'll be fine as always." Gorim winced at this but Duran continued, "You?"

"Been better, I suppose," Gorim replied, his face now more grim that before, "I bring bad news though."

"I'm listening."

"The Assembly isn't going to call for you."

Duran's eyebrow was raised at this. "That's not like them," he stated.

"Indeed, though I think I know why," Gorim said, "Bhelen's taken Trian's place at the Assembly, he introduced a notion to condemn you immediately and it passed easily."

Duran clenched the bars of his cell. "He must have bribed the other houses. That takes years of planning."

"It would certainly explain why Ivo betrayed us," Gorim concurred and continued with the news bearing, "He... had fully half the Assembly ready to vote on something completely against tradition and justice!"

"And then he'll be king when father is called by the Ancestors," the prince came to conclusion. With the Orzammar royalty it was always about the throne, always. He chided himself for not seeing it sooner.

Gorim confirmed his fears, "I'm afraid so. Some of the lords, especially Harrowmont, are suspicious about Bhelen's sudden rise to power. They're rallying, but not fast enough. The Assembly has already sentenced both of us."

Duran looked to his friend in concern. "What will happen to you Gorim?"

Gorim felt more guilt in his heart as he could see as bright as fire that Duran was still concerned about him. "I am to be exiled to the surface. But you..." He couldn't bear to say it.

"Tell me, my friend," Duran urged.

Gorim gulped and finally built up the nerve to say, "You are to sealed into the Deep Roads and fight the darkspawn until you are finally overwhelmed and killed."

The prince, soon to be dead prince, nodded in acknowledgement. He had suspected as much. His father was still on his mind. "And my father? How is he dealing with his?"

"Lord Harrowmont told me your father, the king, has taken ill. I guess he couldn't take losing two of his sons in one day."

This bit of news saddened Duran more than others. Duran sighed and decided to drop the subject of his father as he knew he couldn't do anything about it.

Seeing Duran's distress, Gorim went on, "Lord Harrowmont allowed me to see you to tell you this. The Grey Wardens are still in the Deep Roads, in tunnels connected in those you are to be sealed in. If you can fight your way to them, there's a chance you can escape to the surface with them. Duncan wasn't with the rest of the Wardens when they ventured in, but they assured the king that he'll be with them when they leave for the surface."

Duran remained passive. Gorim was afraid that Duran had finally lost hope but was reassured when he heard his friend say, "That's all the chance I need."

Gorim heard the footsteps of a guard approaching. For one last time he turned to the prince, the one true prince in his eyes, and said, "Our time is up. May the Paragons hold your sword and the Stone hold you up."

Duran reached out between the bars and placed a hand on Gorim's shoulder, "I wish the same to you. Goodbye my friend."

Gorim mirrored Duran's action and said, "I'll always be your man, my Lord Duran Aeducan."

With that Gorim left Duran's cell and the guard appeared to take him away. "They are ready for you now."


"For sodding sake Leske! Put some backbone into it!" Natia shouted as she tried with all her might to push what seemed to be a hidden door at the dead end of Beraht's estate. The duo had finally managed to find the key to the door that was supposed to lead them out but ended up showing them the most tedious way possible, pushing a stone wall.

"What do you think I'm doing, Champ!?" Leske shouted back.

Suddenly, the door budged giving Natia and Leske momentum and pushed the door even further. A gap between the hidden door and the wall finally grew big enough for them to pass through. The two rogues stepped into a shop, an armoury to be precise, and the owner wasn't happy. "Hey! What you two doing?! You're not supposed to be in-"

WHAM!

The owner fell back, out cold, after Natia gave him a nice knuckle sandwich. "I don't have time for this. Let's go."

"Right behind you," Leske supported as he made his way to the front door.

The duo exited the shop and into the Commons. Leske closed the door behind him as Natia took a deep sniff of open air... or at least whatever open air you can get underground. Natia rolled her shoulders and sighed in relief. "I think we're good," she stated.

"There they are!" a voice of a guard rang out.

At this Natia bit her lip and muttered to herself, "I really need to shut up at times like that."

Apparently, Leske heard her. "No kidding."

"Seize the fugitives!" cried the same guard as more of them came running towards them.

If that wasn't enough, the Proving Master was right behind them. "Drop your weapons and walked down slowly. We will use force if you resist."

Natia was about to bring out her dagger for what seemed to be the hundredth time today until she spotted a familiar, dark-skinned human and another female dwarf walk towards them. 'The Grey Warden Duncan? Why's he here? And why's my sister with him?'

Duncan stopped in line with the guards, giving a look to the Proving Master. He gave an annoyed look back.

Taking the opportunity to speak before being silenced, Natia spoke out, "You should be thanking us instead of arresting us. Especially since I just killed Beraht."

"He's dead?" the Proving Master asked, surprised evident in his voice and raised eyebrows, "Beraht had many enemies, but also powerful allies. They-"

Leske decided to interrupt him. "Beraht would've butchered us if she hadn't killed him."

"Your friend once again demonstrates her courage," Duncan remarked and came before Natia and despite his height advantage he was very humble to her. "We Grey Wardens travel far and wide in search of those with potential to join our ranks. It seems I have just found one of them."

Natia's eyes widened at the implication of Duncan's words. For the first time today and the second time she met Duncan she was astounded. "A-are you asking me to become a Grey Warden?"

Duncan smiled and gave a small bow. "Allow me to make my offer formal. I, Duncan of the Grey Wardens, extend to you, Natia Brosca, an invitation to join our order."

The Proving Master looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. "This woman is wanted for treason! You can't do this!"

"I can and I am," Duncan told him more sternly. He turned again to Natia and continued, "It would mean leaving here to the surface world but then you could strike a great blow to the darkspawn."

Natia breathed in and out slowly as the information settled in. Looking at Rica, she said, "I want to speak to my sister first."

"Of course," Duncan seemed to have objection, "And I think your friend wants to speak with you as well."

Natia looked to Leske as he was already talking to her. "How hard did they crack your skull Champ? You'd have to be crazy to turn down being a Grey Warden!"

"But my sister-"

"I'll look after her! And before you say 'That's what I'm afraid of,' I promise that I won't try anything... at least this year."

Natia sighed at the vigour her friend had in her leaving. She turned to see Rica but she got to see her faster than expected.

Rica ran over to her and gave her a hug. Natia stumbled back slightly but Rica kept a firm grip on her. "I swear," Rica began, "That I was going to kill you when I heard about what you did at the Proving Grounds, but then Ser Duncan came along and said that he wanted to recruit you! I guess it worked out for the best."

"T-that's great Rica," Natia assured her sister, "But what are you doing here?"

"When I heard you were arrested I ran straight to the Proving Grounds but you had already disappeared," Rica explained. "That's when Ser Duncan said he wanted to invite you to the Grey Wardens. I almost fell over."

"I know the feeling..." Natia murmured. She finally returned the hug. Then she let herself out of the hug to see her sister face to face and said, "I'm not leaving without you."

"The rules of the Wardens are to leave their families behind Nat," Rica sadly said. "But 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 after he got back from the Deep Roads. If everything works out, maybe I can greet you as an equal if you return."

"Is this the same guy you were talking before?"

"Yes," Rica replied with a blush on her face, "He calls me his amber rose..."

"Oh Lord."

"Don't be like that Nat. He's promised me that he'll help us move to better living conditions so he can find me more easily when wants me."

"Sis, please don't make me barf."

"Natia!"

Natia chuckled. "Just kidding. I'm happy for you Rica, even if the guy you're with is a noble."

"Thank you Natia. And please take care of yourself."

"I will."

Natia finally returned to Duncan who was awaiting her answer. "I'm ready."

Duncan nodded and gestured to the dwarves around him. "Then before these witnesses, I hereby recruit you into the Grey Wardens. Know that are most welcome." The dwarven guards didn't know whether to feel honoured by being a witness or angry that a convict was getting a new lease on life.

Duncan reached to his back and pulled out a mace of fine craftsmanship. "Before we head out into the Deep Roads I want to present to you this mace, since you have so little possessions of your own. It once belonged to Warden Foral Aeducan. I believe he was related to your king. I know you will continue his great example."

Taking the mace into her hands, Natia felt oddly proud holding the mace of an Ancestor. Even if it was one of the nobles. "T-thank you."

Duncan gave a smile before addressing the other dwarfs. "Farewell, my friends, and thank you for your hospitality." With that the Wardens, one old and one new, walked off for the Deep Roads.


"Having been found guilty of fratricide by the Assembly of Orzammar, you are hereby sentenced to exile and death. Your name is, from hereby forth, stripped from the records. You are no longer a person, nor a memory. You are to be cast into the Deep Roads with only sword and shield, there to redeem your life by fighting the enemies of Orzammar, till death." Lord Harrowmont took a breath before one of the many doors that lead into the Deep Roads with the condemned prince before him and a guard. One final question was needed. "Do you have anything to say?"

Duran kept his gaze down from Harrowmont's eyes and said, "I didn't do it."

"I want to believe that," Harrowmont told him. With a plea in his voice Harrowmont instructed, "Look me in the eye and tell me you didn't do this, for your father's sake."

Duran did as instructed by lifting his head, looking into Harrowmont's eyes and said with a voice that was used between trusted friends, "You know I would never kill Trian, even if I wanted the throne."

Harrowmont sucked in a deep breath and admitted, "I know. That means Bhelen set this all up from the start. I swear that I will do everything in my power and spend the rest of my days making sure Bhelen does not profit by his deeds."

"Thank you Lord Harrowmont. You'd be a more worthy king than I, or even Trian, ever would be."

"Don't sell yourself short Duran," the elder dwarf comforted him, "I'm sure that if Bhelen hadn't done this you would've been a great king, even better than your father. I know your father is sure of that too." He presented a fine sword and shield to Duran. "This sword and shield are of fine dwarven make. Strike a blow at our enemies."

Duran took them gratefully, testing each weapon in each arm. "I will Lord Harrowmont."

Harrowmont nodded and ordered the guard, "Open the door and let the condemned through." He turned to Duran once again to wish him, "May the Stone accept you when you fall."

"I'm not going to fall," was all Duran said as he walked into the Deep Roads.


As Duncan and Natia walked down the tunnels of the Deep Roads it was surprisingly uneventful. That had yet to cross any darkspawn and there were no bodies or skeletons around to indicate any carnage of any sort. Trying to break the silent tension, Natia stated, "I know this is my first time in the Deep Roads but I thought there'd be a lot more blighters down here to kill."

"We've only just left Orzammar, Natia," Duncan replied, "There will be plenty of darkspawn further down the roads. But we aren't trying to get their attention. We're just trying to meet up with the rest of the Wardens and head to the surface." With an amused smile Duncan gave a glance to Natia and said, "You wouldn't want your career as a Grey Warden to end so soon after it's begun, do you?"

Natia reconsidered the action of calling out for the darkspawn at that reasoning. "Uh... no."

Duncan gave a quiet chuckle but then all of a sudden he turned serious and looked in the direction of a nearby tunnel entrance while reaching for the sword on his back. "We may be unfortunate, here they come."

Natia faced the direction Duncan was, at first confused as there was no one there but then the sounds of growling and screeching could be heard and they were getting louder and louder. She drew out her daggers, leaving the mace on her back for later, as shadows from lit fires in the shape of humanoid creatures were moving along the walls. "I'm ready."

"Be wary Natia, you are not fully a Grey Warden just yet," Duncan warned, "Do not let their blood seep into yours or it will-"

"RRAAAAHHHH!"

The load roar stopped Duncan's train of thought. Duncan raised an eyebrow when he recognised that the roar was not a darkspawn's. The shadows on the walls of the tunnel ahead were showing the previous humanoid shadows were being cut down by a shorter one wielding a sword and shield. There were inhuman screams and squeals at the new figure cut down the monsters. When the carnage died down and the only shadow left was the short one, Duncan ventured further into the tunnel with Natia close behind. "Hello?" he called, "Are you alright?"

The short shadow on the wall turned its head to the source of Duncan's voice and walked across the wall. As the Shadow fell out of sight its source came around the corner as a plain clothed dwarf with a sword and shield. Natia didn't recognise him but Duncan surely did.

"Lord Aeducan!" he questioned in slight disbelief.

"Ser Duncan!" Duran exclaimed with the same amount of disbelief as Duncan's, "I didn't think I'd find you so soon!"

"What are you doing down here?" Duncan asked, puzzled by the scenario before him, "Where are your troops?"

Duran looked down, not looking forward to answering the questions. Nevertheless, he did, "I am no longer Lord Aeducan as you may see."

"Ah," Duncan realised the situation that Duran was in, "Then you been made to walk the Deep Roads, then."

"Wait," Natia spoke up after the two before her conversed, "You two know each other? And did Duncan just call you 'Lord Aeducan?' As in, the royal Aeducans?"

Duran turned to the woman in Duncan's company and saw her brand. "You are a casteless."

Natia scowled. "Typical, all the nobles see is this sodding brand and that officially makes me worth dirt."

"I didn't mean it like-"

"Save it, your highness," Natia interrupted, expressing the last two words with complete distaste.

"Natia," Duncan stepped in before hostilities were to rise any further, "This is Duran Aeducan, son of the king of Orzammar, and I believe he will be more civil to you that any other nobles you've met."

"I won't hold my breath," was all Natia said to that.

"Duran," this time Duncan addressed the former prince, "This is Natia Brosca, the warrior who won the Proving we talked about at the banquet yesterday. It seems that she was able to join me after all."

At the news that Natia was the rumoured casteless that bested some of the best in the Warrior caste, Duran held out his hand to her. "It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Ser Natia. I've been hearing about your skills since yesterday and I have to say I've been looking forward to see you in action."

Natia barely glanced at the extended hand before crossing her arms and turning her head away.

Awkwardly the former Aeducan pulled his hand back as gave Duncan a confused look.

"From what I heard from her sister, Natia has a rough spot for nobles and the higher class," Duncan helpfully answered.

"I... see," Duran replied.

"So how did you end up down here, your highness?" Natia asked, not dropping the distaste.

"I don't believe it's any of our business, let alone mine to hear," Duncan told her.

"Thank you, Ser Duncan," said Duran.

"No need for that," replied Duncan, "It is not the way of this Order to pass judgement on others about their misdeeds. And you've already shown yourself to be resourceful and skilled, and I would expect nothing less from an Aeducan."

"Former Aeducan."

"Be nice Natia."

"I appreciate your words Ser Duncan," thanked Duran, "But now my honour has been stripped from me as well as my family name. There is no need to be so formal with me anymore."

Duncan shook his head and stated, "I disagree, Duran Aeducan, as you can never truly be stripped from your name until you choose to abandon it and I suspect you will always be an Aeducan at heart." Before Duran could respond to such a claim Duncan said something unexpected, "I have been searching for ones with your level of skill and ability, one that sets others apart. I have already found Natia here, but the truth is that I'm still looking for more recruits. As a Grey Warden, I extend you an invitation to join our Order."

"WHAT!" Both dwarves exclaim at the same time, though for different reasons than the other person had in mind.

Duran caught his breath back first, "I... I would be honoured, Ser Duncan. Thank you so much."

"I can't believe this..." Natia said to herself, "Forced to travel with a noble..."

"I am no longer a noble, Ser Natia," Duran said to her, "I don't mind if you feel the need not to treat me like one."

"Once a noble, always acts like a noble, that's how Orzammar dwarves work."

Duncan ran his hand through his hair, thinking, 'This will be a long journey, and an even longer Blight.'

"We need to catch up with my subordinates first before reaching the surface," the elder Warden declared, "Then we set for our next destination. The place of my birth...

"...Highever."


Author's note: So sorry for the long wait! Studying for school's getting hectic, but I've some time here and there for some fanfiction.

Now then, for the prologue of the next chapter...

Duncan has successfully recruited both Natia and Duran, the dwarves of completely different classes, into the Grey Wardens. But now he and his two recruits arrive in Highever, where the Cousland twins can be found. It may prove difficult for Duncan to get the twins to join the Wardens with their parents so close, but an opportunity presents itself in the most atrocious way possible, betrayal.