As it turned out, Morrigan's idea of fun consisted of insulting Alistair's background as a Templar and his hair alternately, asking subtly insulting questions about Ferelden society, and poking and prodding Lance about his noble background – specifically why it was he was dressed in such rags.
"Honestly! You have more than enough money to purchase some proper attire," she droned on. "Yet here you are in the Wilds, wearing armor that doesn't even stay whole long enough to be useful. Should you not have an entire cadre of servants and aides? Is that not what nobility does?"
"My 'nobility' was taken from me," said Lance. "I don't like to wear those gaudy cloth things and I am bereft of any servants."
"Yet you are carrying a purse full of coin."
"It is a satchel. And it is full of all the money I have left to my name."
"Ah. I see. Well then, take this along with my apologies," said Morrigan, handing him a small leather pouch filled with coin. He scoffed at it. She'd pick-pocketed him.
"I should have figured," he said. They were approaching the village Morrigan had mentioned by way of the Imperial Highway. It was a long decayed Tivinter road, though vast stretches of it were still navigable. Lothering was the village's name, and even from here it was apparent that a vast number of refugees had sought shelter there.
And so had a number of bandits.
"Oh, ho!" shouted a dirty, cocky man. "Look spry, boys, it appears we have visitors."
The man approached them, flanked by a number of other ragged men, and one very large – and very stupid-looking – brute.
They'd evidently made camp on the Imperial Highway, amongst discarded carts and carriages. It was obvious what their trade was: theft. From anyone and everyone. They were scavengers, preying on the broken remnants of the refugees headed north. They were killing what little life was left in Ferelden's southerners.
"No one gets by without paying the fee," said the leader. "Ten silver and you can run along."
"Bandits," said Alistair. "Preying on refugees fleeing the Darkspawn."
"I would rather we just kill them," said Morrigan, loud enough for even the bandits to hear.
"That lady has a dangerous streak in her," said the leader. "You can't go around killing everyone you meet; you'll eventually come across someone who doesn't like being killed. Besides, we seem to have a slight numerical advantage."
His men fanned out, moving to surround the four. Ajax growled softly.
"You know," Lance said, taking a step to face the leader. He remembered how father had dealt with the bandits of Highever. He didn't like bandits. And he especially didn't like these bandits. Preying on refugees, extorting fear. He once lamented the lack of honor in nobility, and now he was face to face with the scum of the universe.
"I rather like her idea," he said. And in one motion he drew his sword, brought the flat of it down on the tall brute's head, cracking the skull. He turned and swung downward, slashing through the shoulder of one of the bandits.
The others reacted. Alistair drew his own sword and shield and slammed the closest bandit to him, slicing into him with the sword. There was a scream as Ajax wrestled another bandit to the ground. Morrigan had evidently learned a few things from her time in the Korcari Wilds, and she created a blossom of frost at the feet of the bandits. In an instant they were frozen to death, skin bluing from the inside out.
The bandit leader was the last left, and he stood petrified by fear.
"I…" he mumbled softly. "Who are you?"
"I'm a Grey Warden," said Lance, reveling in the look on the man's face when he'd realized what a mistake he'd made.
"Oh…" he said, entire body trembling. "Loghain put such a high bounty on you, for killing the king. I should have known. Had to be good to kill a king."
"Killed the king?"
"Yes. At Ostagar."
Lance sighed heavily. Loghain had thrown them to the wolves. He was spreading lies and misinformation. The Grey Wardens had killed the king. And they were up for bounty.
Lance put the tip of his sword against the bandit's gut, one hand on his shoulder.
"Let's make this easy," he said. And he pushed the blade through the man's leather armor, into his belly. He choked, gagged, but the bandit didn't fight. It was an honorable way to die.
Lance wiped the blood off on the man's trousers. Morrigan stooped over to pick through his pockets.
"What are you doing that for?" asked Alistair. She made a noise of disgust.
"I am taking his money. He has no need of it."
"That's not yours to take," Alistair said. Lance sheathed his sword and tapped Alistair's shoulder.
"Let her have it. She'll get more use from it than him."
They stepped off of the Imperial Highway, standing just before the village of Lothering. Alistair sighed once more.
"Lothering," Alistair said, returning to his glib self. He'd been rather introverted since Flemeth's hut, having spent most of the trip mulling over the deaths of Duncan and the other Wardens. Lance couldn't blame him; he was still thinking about the look in his mother's eyes when Duncan pulled him away.
"Pretty as a painting," Alistair said. He stepped forward to lean on the stone of the Highway. Morrigan made a noise, indicating she wanted attention.
"So he's finally snapped out of it," she said to no one. "Was falling on your sword in grief too much trouble?"
"Would you leave me alone?" Alistair asked, all traces of humor dropping from his voice. "Haven't you ever lost someone important to you? What would you do if your mother died?"
"Before or after I stopped laughing?" she asked, giving him a wicked smile. Alistair actually recoiled from her.
"Right… Creepy, forget I asked," he said, turning away. Morrigan looked ready to dish out another helping of sarcasm, and Lance didn't feel like working through his growing headache.
"Okay," he said, holding up a hand to silence Morrigan before she could speak. "Lay off him for a bit. We need a plan of attack."
"Arl Eamon could help us," said Alistair. "He would do it without question. But I don't know if he would be the best place to start."
"Well, we have to use these treaties…" said Lance. "Where are all these people?"
"The Dwarves are in Orzammar, and that's far to northwest, in the Frostbacks. The Circle of Magi tower is where you'll find the mages. The Elves are a bit trickier; the Dalish don't like to stick around in one place, but a clan tends to hover near the Brecilian Forest."
"Morrigan? Anything to add?"
"I say we go to this Loghain first, kill him. Then we can pursue this business with the treaties in peace," she said. Alistair snorted.
"Right. Because it isn't as though he has an army, or experience, or-"
"I was asked for my opinion and I gave it," said Morrigan. "If you wish only to list reasons why something cannot be done then we shall wait here until the Darkspawn find us."
"Enough," Lance said. "Let's just get moving. I guess we'll head for the Circle first off; it's closer."
Morrigan made a noise of dissatisfaction, something Lance was becoming used to, much to his horror. She was lucky that she looked so good, or else she'd live the whole of her life with her mother in that blasted shack.
They entered Lothering, or rather first passed through a small refugee camp set up at the very edge of the village. They were all in various states of dishevelment and all were dirty and sorrowful. It was pitiful, but in the manner that one felt really bad for the people there. He imagined that Morrigan saw it as some great comedy.
There was a tavern ahead, and Lance figured that there must have been a tradesman there, or at the very least they could make the purchase of some supplies. From the smell, it might have been a worse idea than it sounded.
The tavern was full. People, mostly refugees who sought to squander their money on booze and bards, milled about, creating a din of noise that was quite palpable. They were all saying the same thing. They talked about the implacability of the Darkspawn, how it was impossible to escape. Some lamented that they were alive for such times; still others talked about the loss of their families. It was disgusting.
Why weren't these people up and doing something? Why weren't they preparing for battle, or moving on to safety? They chose to whine about it as opposed to doing something about it.
"Hey, you," declared the leader of a trio of armed and armored men. They were soldiers, and Alistair seemed to recognize what house they hailed from.
"Great, Loghain's men."
"Haven't we been tracking a man by this very description?" the leader asked of one of his subordinates.
"Yes and no one's seen anything."
"You're a Grey Warden," the man accused. "You killed King Cailan. Loghain put quite a price on your head. You'll be coming with us."
"Try it," Lance dared. His hand was already at the dagger sheathed on his hip. "Come on."
A woman approached, and Lance sized her up from what he could see without removing his gaze from the men. She was a Chantry sister, red-haired, pretty.
"Now, now," she said, her voice tinted with an Orlesian accent. Lance had never met a real Orlesian, and all he knew of them was what father had shared in his war stories. "There is no need for violence. You must be mistaken."
"No, this is a Grey Warden and he's coming with us."
"You don't have to do this. You can just walk away," said the sister. Lance huffed at her.
"If this guy wants a fight, he can bring it on. I'm game."
Alistair made a noise, signaling his willingness to fight. He wondered if Morrigan was ready, though she didn't have much of a choice.
"I've had it with this," said the leader of the men. "Get the Grey Warden. Kill the sister and anyone else who gets in the way."
"Right then," the man's second said. He stepped forward, reaching out to grab Lance's arm. Lance gripped his dagger.
"Touch me and you'll lose that hand," he warned. The guy should have listened. In a great swoop Lance removed the hand that gripped him by the bicep and followed it with a quick stab to the chest, coming in just above the plate of his armor, going down into his chest.
He gagged, blood spilling out of his mouth. He grabbed the stump where his hand had been and collapsed backwards. The leader was about to shout "Get them" when Alistair smashed into him with his shield. He landed on the table and Lance heard bones break. The third man reacted faster, drawing his sword, prepared to attack Alistair while he dealt with the leader of the group.
Morrigan remained impassive, watching the proceedings with what appeared to be admiration.
A blade darted out from nowhere, catching the last of the three in his chest. He dropped instantly, dead before he hit the ground. Lance followed the blade's path with his eyes, shocked to see that the sister had thrown it.
"Wait," she ordered, reaching out to keep Alistair from running the man through. "Don't kill him."
"Go ahead," said Lance. "Don't let him tell Loghain where we are."
"No," said the sister, quite insistent. "You can let him go, to let Loghain know that you aren't to be trifled with."
Alistair looked to Lance for the final word. He shrugged.
"Let him free," said Lance. "But have him deliver a message."
"Anything, Lord," said the main, bleeding from his nose. "Anything."
"Tell Loghain that he'll need to do better."
He nodded and hurried off, rushing out of the tavern and into the harsh daylight of Lothering. The sister reclaimed her blade, apologizing for the tavern keeper for creating such a mess. The bard hadn't stopped playing his music.
"I am grateful that you didn't kill him," she said.
"It's no problem. Though I am rather curious as to where you learned to fight," said Lance. It was a difficult move to throw one's blade, and he was only able thanks to years of training and practicing it in his room when no one was busying him. She laughed it off.
"I wasn't always a sister," she said. "It's true what they said, isn't it? You're a Grey Warden."
"Hey!" Alistair declared, upset at not getting equal recognition as a Warden. It must have burned something fierce to take the backseat to a new recruit.
"Maybe we are Wardens," said Lance. "What's it to you?"
"Warden's fight the Darkspawn, yes? If you are a Warden then I am coming with you," she said. Her accent was sexy, as was her orange hair. But the chances the she was coming with him were slim to none.
"I think you're quite mistaken, sister," he said. She frowned.
"But the Maker wants me to go with you. I know it! He sent me a vision!"
Morrigan made a sound of derision, and Lance was inclined to agree. This lass was two wings short of a chicken dinner, as it were. He took a slow step back.
"I think you should… elaborate?"
She frowned, painfully aware at his trepidation to continue being anywhere near where she was.
"I know it sounds insane, but it's true! I… was sent to help you. You must believe me; the Maker wants me to help you end the Darkspawn."
"And why would I let you come along?"
"Because I can fight. Because being a Grey Warden in Ferelden right now is a bit of a curse. You need all the help you can get to fight this Blight."
"She isn't wrong," said Lance to Alistair. He already knew Morrigan's opinion on the matter, and he didn't really want to swallow more of her sarcasm and cynicism. He'd already had enough to last a lifetime.
"I think she's neat. Sure she's nuts, but she's more 'Ooh, pretty flowers' than, well…" he pointed to Morrigan, who opened her mouth to say something vitriolic.
"Hush, please, Morrigan," Lance said, knowing she'd ride his ass the whole way out of Lothering for shushing her. "Look, I don't even know your name-"
"It's Leliana," she said. She stepped forward, reaching out to take his hand. "Please. This means something great to me. Greater than I can tell you. You need me. My help."
She looked up at him, pretty blue eyes expectant and pleading all at once. He knew he was a sucker. It was a male curse, he was certain. He couldn't say no, who in their right mind would? Besides, she seemed earnest, and that was enough sometimes.
Morrigan made her displeasure known.
"You must have cracked your skull harder than mother thought."
"Yes," he said. "That must be it."
And so their little party grew by one, with the addition of Leliana, the mysterious Chantry Lay Sister from Orlais who was apparently good in a fight. And Lance heard about it all the way out of Lothering.