A knock at the door brought a scowl to the face of the raven haired witch. She had been deep in concentration, deciphering more passages from Flemeth's grimoire, and the interruption was unwelcome. "What is it?" she called out curtly, not bothering to rise from the chair she was curled up in. She could make out enough of the muffled reply to figure out who it was, and sighing she got up and answered the door.
"What is it?" she asked again in an uncompromising tone.
"May I come in?" In contrast, his vocal tone was soft and contrite.
"Is this important? I am reading at the moment."
Alim sighed lightly. "I wish to talk."
Morrigan regarded his expression carefully. "Are you here of your own accord, or hers?"
"My own, mostly."
"Mostly?"
"Mostly."
"I see. And what is it you wish to talk about?" She still made no move to let the warden into her room.
Alim stuffed his hands into his pockets, fidgeting in place uncomfortably at the witch's icy gaze. "My behavior this morning."
"Oh? And just what would you say about it? Are you here to protest your innocence?"
"Morrigan, may I come in, please?" The female mage didn't respond immediately, as if considering the request. "Please?" Alim asked again.
Morrigan's expression softened slightly. "Very well," she relented, stepping to the side so he could enter. She closed the door behind him before turning to face the elf.
"I invited you into my room, Warden, not my bed," she said sarcastically, smirking at the sight of him sitting on the edge of the bed.
Alim blushed slightly at the inference, quickly standing back up. "S-sorry…" "She is not making this easy," he thought.
Even in her mood, Morrigan couldn't help but laugh at his reaction. She waved her hand dismissively before crossing her arms over her chest and staring intently at the elf.
Alim cleared his throat. "I… wanted to apologize for earlier. Even though at the time I did not know what you'd done for me, I still should not have behaved so poorly. I… thought… I mean, I interpreted what you said… I thought your point was that I am weak, incapable of taking care of myself. I did not stop to consider that I was making genuinely bad decisions that affected more than just myself."
"You behaved like a child because you thought you were being treated as such? That is a most curious choice."
Shaking his head, Alim softly replied, "That is not how I would describe it, but I do not begrudge you that assessment. I… this is… hard for me to talk about… I…" He paused for a full minute before continuing, "I... m-more than anything, hate the thought that my friends see me as feeble, in constant need of their protection. When I think that is happening, like earlier, I become obstinate about proving everyone wrong, about showing that I am capable."
"And you think that is how I see you, incapable?"
"It is not just you, Morrigan. I think… I think it goes back to early in our adventures. I know my lack of stamina was a liability at times… that I struggled to keep up. Neither my physical stature nor my upbringing prepared me for the physical demands of our journey, something you or Sten pointed out on multiple occasions, sometimes rather harshly. I have worked very hard to overcome that, but sometimes I think you all still see me as that way. It has been pointed out to me though… that perhaps I… misinterpret what is meant, and take personal offense where none was intended."
Morrigan sighed, the last of her anger draining from her features. "Warden, I would venture that Flemeth was the most powerful mage in Ferelden, perhaps all of Thedas. I would not have even asked you to attempt to kill her if I did not think you were capable of doing so. For all of my talents, you are more powerful still. Alim… I gripe at you because I fear the consequences for Ferelden if you are lost. And… truth be told, I do not wish to lose you either."
Alim raised an eyebrow quizzically at the witch's last statement. Misreading his expression, she huffed slightly. "Is it so hard for you to believe that I care about you beyond your necessity to end the Blight?"
"You… care for me?"
Morrigan chuckled lightly. "I do not wish to share a bedroll with you like the bard if that is what you are thinking. Do you remember what you told me when you gave me the silver brooch you bought from the Dalish, and I could not believe you were simply giving it to me with no strings attached?"
The elven warden nodded. "I told you that I considered you a friend, and that a friend does not require something in return for helping or doing something nice for a friend."
"Yes, a friend… I have never had a friend before. All the times you gave me gifts, or continued making me feel not just needed, but wanted, even when I was not nice, or killing Flemeth to protect me… I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for your ulterior motive to come into the light. And when it never came, I finally began to understand what this friendship really was. And instead of thinking it a weakness, I found it… agreeable, much to my surprise. So, yes, I care for you, and being the only friend I've ever had perhaps causes me to be rather protective of you."
Alim closed the gap between him and the witch and hugged her tightly. "Thank you, Morrigan. I am sorry for causing you to go to extraordinary lengths on my behalf, but it means a lot to me that you did."
"Oh, let's not get all mushy about it, please," she implored, shifting uncomfortably. "'Tis what friends do, is it not? Let's leave it at that."
Chuckling, Alim released her from the embrace. "Very well, friend," he replied, grinning.
-==0==-
After an hour and a half of talking to everyone one-on-one, Alim returned to his room. It'd been mentally strenuous having that many heartfelt conversations back to back. The elf was much more comfortable listening to others and letting them confide in him than he was sharing his own personal issues, but he was still somewhat surprised that after talking to Morrigan it didn't get any easier having similar conversations with his other companions. He exhaled audibly in relief as he closed the door to his room and leaned back against it with his eyes closed.
"That bad?" asked Leliana, her tone laced with mirth.
"Not that… just… taxing. You know it isn't easy for me to open up about my feelings, yet I forced myself to do that with all of our companions." Alim opened his eyes, for the first time noticing the bard was sitting cross-legged on the bed with one of his drakeskin boots in her hands. His eyes unconsciously alternated between his bare feet and the redhead on the bed. "Something wrong with my boots?" he asked, puzzled at what she was doing.
"Not at all, my love. In fact, I am just finishing up."
"Was there something wrong with them previously?"
Hopping from the bed, Leliana tossed the boot to Alim. "I have a gift for you."
Alim resisted the urge to make a sarcastic comment about her re-gifting his own boots to him, waiting to see what she did next. The bard pulled back a folded edge of the comforter on top of the bed to reveal a very sharp looking weapon.
"A… stubby dagger?"
Leliana laughed. "Something like that. I had one of my old daggers, Thorn of the Dead Gods, reworked by a smith here. The blade length has been reduced by a third, and the hilt shortened and contoured to fit your hand better. It is now more of a hybrid weapon. You can look at it either as a long knife or a short dagger. The smith I took it to was capable of folding lyrium and working with runes, so I had him fold in a grandmaster paralyze rune. Whoever you poke with this thing stands a good chance of being stunned long enough for you to get away, if necessary."
The elven warden nodded, still eyeing her curiously. "And the boot?"
"That is my finishing touch. I had a new sheath made for the blade, and had it done such that I could sew it into the side of your boot." She took the dagger and demonstrated the boot sheath. "See this little strap? All you have to do is unsnap it and the blade slides right out without any resistance. Yet, the blade also fits snugly so it won't move around while you walk. I had a second sheath made as well in case there are times you wish to carry it on your belt instead."
Turning the polished steel dagger over in his hands, the elf noted that the blade still retained its distinctive wavey appearance, just stunted from three curves to two and re-tapered to match the new length. The guard between the hilt and blade had also been narrowed slightly. The hilt had been shortened such that the gap between the guard and the pommel was only a couple of inches longer than the width of the elf's grip, and had been rewrapped in leather cord dyed midnight green. The dagger felt very balanced and easy to handle, even for a non-rogue such as himself. "This is very nice, thank you," Alim replied softly, "but I am guessing there is a purpose here other than a simple gift?"
Smiling gently, Leliana took the dagger from his hands and set it aside before wrapping him up in an embrace. "Vigilance, my dearest one. Wherever you are, may it always be close at hand." She squeezed the warden tighter and kissed him on top of the head.
"No more repeats of last night, getting caught unarmed," he thought solemnly to himself. "It is a wonderful gift, Lel, thank you," he replied, kissing her along her collarbone. "If it is alright with you, I think I will rename the blade Vigilance, a name to always remind me why I carry it. Besides, it is not really a Thorn of the Dead Gods anymore."
"A perfect name," she agreed, then quietly added, "Thank you for indulging my overprotectiveness." Alim smirked slightly at her admission of being overprotective, but decided not to spoil the moment by calling her on it.
-==0==-
Entering the reception area of the inn with Leliana and Scorch at either side, Alim stopped and crossed his arms over his chest. Ten minutes earlier, one of the staff had come back to their room to inform them a visitor wanted to speak with the warden. They arrived to find an agitated dwarf in beat up heavy plate armor pacing back and forth talking to himself. "You needed something?" Alim asked. His tone was a bit edgier than usual, recognizing the dwarf standing in front of him. The warden didn't remember the guy's name, but he remembered the unpleasant conversation with him in Tapster's the previous day. It was the husband of the missing paragon, Branka, apparently the only one of her noble house that she left behind when she departed for the Deep Roads two years earlier. And from what Alim had heard others say in his brief time in Orzammar, the guy had quite the reputation as a drunk as well, which for a dwarf was saying something.
"About sodding time, Warden! I've been waiting for awhile now," the dwarf declared gruffly. His eyes roamed over Leliana and then back to Alim, and then he grinned. "Oh, wait… were you two, like… you know… back there?"
Leliana rolled her eyes, while Alim pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Did you need something? I seem to recall your last words to me yesterday were to 'sod off' as you put it."
The dwarf chuckled nervously. "Yeah, well, don't mind that. Had a few too many pints in me, or… maybe I hadn't had enough yet, I don't remember now. Anyway, I hear you're going after Branka."
The elven warden nodded. "Seems like she is the best bet to end the deadlock in the Assembly. How did you find out about it?"
"Sodding right she's the best! Orzammar doesn't need a king, it needs its paragon! Anyway, you can't fart in Orzammar without someone catching wind of it, if you know what I mean. Word on the street is you've got Bhelen and Harrowmont both in a tizzy. They've each been sending out small excursions into the Deep Roads, hoping to be the one to land their grubby mitts on her to sway the vote, but not getting sodding anywhere because their squads spend more time fighting each other out there than searching!"
"And what does that have to do with me?"
"No one can go into the Deep Roads without a noble patron. Bhelen and Harrowmont counted on you not being able to go out there without agreeing to work for one of them. If you did find Branka, the one whose pocket you were in would be a lock to become king. But then you went right around those bastards and got the sodding Shaper himself to sponsor you! So now they both have their knickers in a twist that you're going after Branka and there's not a sodding thing they can do about it. Neither one of them will be able to use her to gain the throne."
Alim sighed. "So am I to expect being attacked by Bhelen's supporters as well now?"
"Who cares? They'll just get slaughtered like Harrowmont's boys did, right?"
Leliana shook her head in disgust. "You still have not told us why you are here."
"A woman that cuts to the chase, I like it!" the dwarf replied, chortling. Turning back to Alim, he remarked, "I'll bet she's a real firebrand between the sheets, am I right?"
"Look… dwarf…" began Alim, his patience running out.
"Dwarf? The name's Oghren. Anyway, cut to the chase, right. I want to go with you to find Branka."
Alim raised an eyebrow quizzically, causing Oghren to scowl. "Hey, I'm not saying I should be your first pick for a dance partner at the inaugural ball, but in the Deep Roads, I'm your man. Besides, I know Branka better than anyone, I'm her sodding husband! I know where she was going and what she was going after."
"Can you even fight? You smell like a brewery!" exclaimed the elven warden.
"Hey! I'm so tough they don't even allow me to carry weapons within the city!"
Leliana smirked. "Because you murdered a man while drunk, yes?"
Oghren frowned. "Uhhh… you heard about that, eh?"
"Don't I have enough armed lunatics following me?" Alim asked sarcastically.
"Perfect! What's one more?"
Alim waved his hand dismissively. "You have much work to do to prove yourself not just to me, but to my companions. But our goals are compatible and I will not turn down an extra sword, or axe, or whatever you wield. Speaking of which, do we need to retrieve your weapon from somewhere since you are not allowed to carry it within the city?"
Scowling again, Oghren answered, "No, I won't get stopped if I'm with you."
"Very well… get what you need for the journey and be back here before two hours are up. I will procure a room for you to stay the night in."
"I've got a sodding house, Warden, I don't need to stay here."
Alim's expression was uncompromising. "We are leaving early in the morning and I want you here and ready to go with the rest of us. And I do not want you staying out late drinking tonight. I want you well-rested and of clear mind."
"What? I fight better when I've had a few pints anyway!"
"Those are my terms, you can take or leave them."
Oghren grunted. "By the tits of my ancestors, Warden, you need to loosen up!" Seeing the elf's steady gaze not faltering, he finally relented. "Fine… I'll go get my gear." He turned and stalked out of the inn, muttering under his breath the whole way.
Leliana turned to the warden, grinning mischievously. "Bet you a sovereign we will be no more than half an hour into the Deep Roads before Morrigan threatens to kill him."
Alim laughed. "I was thinking an hour, but you could be right."
"We have a bet then, yes?"
"Sure, why not? Come on, Firebrand, let's go back and tell the others about Oghren." The pair laughed easily together as they walked back with Scorch towards the rooms.
-==0==-
"Well, that was fun…" offered Alistair sarcastically, waving his longsword at the half dozen dead dwarven thugs on the ground around them. The party had barely gone a quarter mile into the Deep Roads before running into a group of thugs sent to keep them from their quest for Branka. It was unclear which patron they worked for, though it mattered little at the moment.
Morrigan, who had been knocked down shortly before the end of the fighting, sat up and rested her forearms across her knees. "It seems we will have more than darkspawn to deal with."
"We should take no chances," added Sten, agreeing with the witch, "Anyone we come across should be viewed as an enemy until they prove otherwise."
Oghren squatted behind Morrigan, wrapping his big arms around her midsection and yanking her to her feet. Morrigan yelped at the unexpected contact, and at the dwarf's hands lingering for too long near her breasts. "Lay one hand on me again, dwarf, and it will be your last!"
"Huh. You sound just like Branka."
"Then I must commend her good sense. But I will not tell you again, touch me no more."
Leliana smirked at Alim, holding out her hand. "Twenty-three minutes, my dear, I win."
Alim shook his head incredulously. "You cannot possibly know the exact time like that!"
"Now, now, being a sore loser is unbecoming. Pay up."
Groaning, Alim reached into his pack and produced a single sovereign, making a production out of dropping it into her outstretched hand. "You probably put her up to it," he said, mock sulking.
"What are you two carrying on about?" asked Alistair curiously.
The elven warden gestured to the bard. "She bet me Oghren would not make it thirty minutes before doing or saying something to make Morrigan threaten his life."
"And you took that fool's bet?" asked Zev, chuckling. "My opinion of your intelligence is dropping, my friend."
Alim scowled playfully. "In my defense, I only gave it an hour. Still, I concede your point."
"Bah, can't blame a man for trying to help himself to a little sample when the goods are practically sitting right out in the open," replied Oghren, shrugging his shoulders as if to say he didn't get what the big deal was.
Zev laughed. "You've got a lot to learn about women."
Oghren looked curiously at the elf. "Huh. I doubt you've got anything to worry about. You got small breasts for a gal."
Zev shook his head, while Alim, Alistair, and Leliana cracked up. A wry grin even formed on Sten's face. Walking away, Morrigan offered a parting shot, "Remember, dwarf, just because the warden tolerates your presence does not mean we all do."
"Rowwwll!" laughed Oghren in response.
As the others moved on ahead, Alim fell in step with Oghren at the back of the line. "Hey," he began, "just a word of advice, do not taunt Morrigan. She has little patience, and even less hesitance to fight back. You might think what you're doing is all in fun, but she is likely to do nasty things to you if you get her all riled up."
"Nasty things when riled up, eh? What are you, some kind of nug humper? Sounds like the perfect woman to me!"
"Errr… not those kinds of nasty things. I mean dismemberment, turning you into some kind of swamp creature, slowly rotting your skin off, that type of nasty thing."
"Huh. I see what you mean. Well, what about Firebush up there?"
"Wh-who?"
"The bard! I bet I could make her sing, if you know what I mean."
Alim bristled at the inference. "She is spoken for, and you would be wise to remember that."
"So am I," replied the dwarf. "I won't tell if she won't."
"She is with me!" the warden hissed, adding darkly, "You harass her and I swear I will make death by Morrigan seem merciful." Eavesdropping several meters ahead, Zev grinned, thinking to himself that he was going to have fun relating this little story to the bard.
"Fine, fine, you've marked your territory, Warden, no need to keep pissing."
-==0==-
The group ventured further and further into the Deep Roads, reaching areas that were for all intents and purposes lost to the dwarves for hundreds of years. Entering the area known as the Dead Trenches, the party approached a cliff edge that overhung a deep valley far below. Alim and Alistair kneeled down in front, taking in the sight of thousands of darkspawn on the march below them. Suddenly they heard an ear piercing shriek. Before they could figure out where it came from, a large black dragon soared from the depths and landed on a rock bridge not far from the party's location. It roared and spit blue flames down towards the darkspawn below, as if willing them onward, but fortunately didn't seem to be aware of the Grey Warden presence. Or if it was aware, it chose not to acknowledge it at this time. That the dragon was the archdemon was obvious to even the non-Grey Wardens present.
The pair of wardens both touched their fingers to their foreheads and temples, as if the close presence of the archdemon was affecting them. Leliana bent forward and grasped Alim's shoulder, reassuring him with her physical presence. Not knowing what else to do, Zev did the same thing for Alistair. It wasn't long before the archdemon roared again and flew off, and moments later the wardens stood back up.
Alistair sighed. "Well, it is official. This is a Blight."
"It'd be nice if we could take the archdemon out right here and end it," Alim grumbled.
"Are you crazy?" Alistair asked incredulously. "Fight it on its own turf with thousands of darkspawn at its back? With just the ten of us?"
"I did not say we should attempt it, I merely said it would be nice if we could. Obviously we cannot."
"It is just wishful thinking," Morrigan suggested. "Let's continue on with what we were doing."
-==0==-
"What a waste…" sighed Alim, holding a golden crown in his hands that had shortly before been forged by the former dwarven paragon turned golem, Caridin. Alim upheld his promise to Caridin to destroy the Anvil of the Void, siding with him over Branka, who wanted to use the Anvil to make a new golem army to restore the dwarves to greatness and recover their thaigs lost to the darkspawn. Branka was obsessed with reviving the Anvil to the point of insanity, having lost her entire house in the Deep Roads yet still maintaining a single-minded focus on the Anvil. She was completely unwilling to turn away from it even after Cardin revealed the secret that golems were in fact dwarves that had undergone an excruciating procedure that gave up their life force to animate the golem. Caridin admitted that while the initial golems had all been volunteers, the greedy king at the time demanded more and more and began forcing people to become golems against their will. Caridin finally refused, and the king ordered the paragon master smith himself be put to the Anvil and turned into a golem. Caridin had spent the last several hundred years with his small squad of a dozen stone golems preventing anyone else from using the Anvil ever again, though the built-in defenses of the Anvil prevented golems from being able to get close enough to destroy it themselves.
Paragon Branka attacked the group when Alim agreed to destroy the Anvil for Caridin, even though her husband Oghren was one of the ones she was attacking. Then again, it had become apparent that she'd left Oghren behind for a reason, and had taken a female dwarf named Hespith as a lover in the time since she ditched Oghren. The party was forced to kill Branka and the small contingent of golems she managed to control. After then keeping their promise and destroying the Anvil, Caridin forged the crown and stamped it with the seal of his noble house. He gave the crown to Alim and told him that he didn't care, that Alim should grant it to the person he thought should have it. After that and with his mission of seeing the Anvil never used again complete, Caridin said goodbye and proceeded to jump from a cliff into the lava flowing through the valley below, killing himself and leaving Alim standing here shaking his head.
"At least he left a few of his golems behind," remarked Alistair while gesturing to the trio of stone golems that survived the battle with Branka, "so we've got something to corroborate this cockamamie story of ours when we tell the Assembly."
"Let's just leave out the part about Branka becoming a dew-licker in the storytelling," grumbled Oghren. No one replied, but most figured his motivation was his own reputation rather than Branka's.
"So who are you going to put on the throne?" Oghren asked, shifting somewhat uncomfortably in his new Legion of the Dead matched set of boots, gloves, helm, and armor. He planned to get a smith to adjust it for him at the first opportunity. "Branka herself said you could be the king for all she cared. Then again, she was more than just a little crazy, I have to admit. Still, seeing the expressions on those deshyrs' faces when you declared yourself king by the will of two paragons would be priceless!" He chuckled, though his tone was still weighed down by the loss of his wife.
Alim shook his head. "Oh, no, let's not start that up again!" The others laughed lightly, but the joke wasn't nearly as funny after what had happened to the elf earlier in the week. Or at least they thought it was the same week. They weren't exactly sure how much time they'd spent in the Deep Roads. "In all seriousness, they are your people, Oghren. Who do you think will make the better king?"
Oghren tugged at his beard in thought before shrugging. "They're both sodding screw-ups, I don't care. Anyway, if it's alright with you, I'd just assume stick with you guys and fight the Blight. With Branka dead I've got nothing left in Orzammar."
Alim's eyes quickly roamed from companion to companion, trying to read their immediate body language to get their opinions on Oghren's request to join them. Alim had to admit, his personality was more than a little rough around the edges, but the dwarf was a hell of a warrior. Not sensing any major resistance, the elven warded nodded and extended his hand in friendship to the dwarf. "Welcome aboard."
On the way out of the cavern that previously held the Anvil of the Void, Leliana noticed a large, ancient looking tablet off to the side. Investigating, they discovered it was the golem registry of every dwarf that had been made into a golem. Thinking it would be important information for the Shaperate to have, Alim had Wynne use a number of sheets of blank vellum to take tracings of the tablet. Shale had found out from Caridin that she used to be a dwarf named Shayle of House Cadash, and based on what Caridin said and the golem registry, she remembered where the old Cadash Thaig was located. While making their way back through the Deep Roads towards Orzammar, the group detoured by Cadash Thaig and found a golem monument honoring Shayle's sacrifice. Shale was very grateful that the warden went out of his way for her, and reiterated her promise to see the wardens' mission through to the end.
-==0==-
"This is outrageous!" declared Lord Harrowmont in front of the Assembly. "Paragons allowing a surfacer to choose the king of Orzammar? That cannot be allowed!"
"And yet here are four golems that were there confirming what the Grey Warden says," replied one of the deshyrs in the room.
"This… elf… admits to killing Paragon Branka!" Harrowmont countered.
Oghren growled. "Branka was sodding insane after two years out there! She also said the sodding elf could be king for all she cared! Maybe if you'd bothered to have her found back then, this would have been avoided! You didn't give a damn about Branka until it suited your own needs!"
The chairman of the Assembly cleared his throat loudly. "Enough!" he declared gruffly. "If it is the will of the ancestors that the Grey Warden chooses our next king, then I will not argue. Warden, who do you choose?"
Alim sighed, beginning to pace back and forth. "I have not spent much time in Orzammar, as you know, so I am at a disadvantage in truly knowing each of the candidates. I came to Orzammar with my fellow warden and companions for one purpose, to secure the assistance of the dwarves against the Blight we face on the surface, per the treaty between the Grey Wardens and Orzammar. A Blight we know is real because we saw the archdemon firsthand while out in the Dead Trenches in the Deep Roads. I did not come here with any intention of being involved in your political process, let alone to decide who will be your king…"
Taking and releasing a deep breath, the elven warden continued, "A joke born of frustration at not only not being able to secure this commitment, but also not even being allowed to speak with Lord Harrowmont or Prince Bhelen, led to me being assaulted on the main street of the Commons by employees of Lord Harrowmont, and to me and my companions being attacked by employees of both Harrowmont and Bhelen in the Deep Roads in an effort to prevent us from reaching Paragon Branka. I have to say, standing here backed by two paragons and the support of a large number of Orzammar citizens, it is increasingly tempting to slap this crown I hold in my hands on my own head, despite the ridiculousness of it. But as I said, I didn't come to Orzammar to get involved in your politics…"
Alim stopped speaking momentarily and looked back and forth at Harrowmont and Bhelen, both of whom appeared nervous. "So… I am left having to decide who has the necessary wisdom, foresight, compassion, skill, and knowledge to be your leader. Fortunately for you, I have found such a man in Orzammar, and that man is in this room."
Walking over to the side of the room, Alim stopped in front of his choice. "Shaper of Memories, I would give you the crown."
A collective gasp filled the room, from the dwarves and Alim's companions alike. Immediately, Harrowmont and Bhelen began protesting, as did supporters on their sides. The chairman of the Assembly loudly shouted everyone down, until even the murmuring stopped and the room was deadly quiet. "Warden," the chairman began, "if that is your will-"
"Wait!" interjected the Shaper, interrupting the chairman. Smiling gently, he turned to the elf. "Warden, I… am flattered, exceedingly so... but I must humbly decline. My place is in the Shaperate, not being the monarch. I must insist that you choose another."
Alim sighed deeply. "I will respect your wish. But Shaper, who else is there? Who would be a fitting king?"
"The ancestors have bestowed it upon you to choose, young warden. I will not go against that and make the choice for you. However, I humbly request that for the good of Orzammar you choose between one of the two established candidates. Either has the potential to grow into being a good king in time."
The elven warden fought off the urge to scoff openly. He nodded to the Shaper of Memories and resumed pacing while contemplating his choice. Finally, he stopped again and turned to face the chairman. "I do not share the Shaper's optimism regarding the candidates, but I trust his judgment." Without saying anything further, Alim turned and tossed the crown like a flying disc. It flew a dozen feet in the air before landing in the hands of Prince Bhelen, who was so stunned he almost dropped it.
"I want the treaty upheld," Alim declared. Without waiting for a response from the shocked crowd or the crown prince, he spun on his heels and left the Assembly Hall, not bothering to stick around for the coronation. His companions exchanged surprised glances at how things turned out before quickly catching up with Alim and following him back to the inn for a well deserved rest.
