They wandered through the refugee camp, Alistair looking around with a distressed look on his face, while Right pilfered a few small valuables without the man even noticing. Duncan would have noticed right off, he'd bet – noticed and said something. He was startled to realize how much he missed the older man; he'd only been in his company for a few short weeks, but he'd respected him, and even come to like him. And Duncan, he was sure, would have known what they should do, and led the way himself.
As they entered Lothering proper, a Templar stopped them and warned them that they should keep moving; there was already too many people in town, and too little food, and it couldn't be long before the darkspawn at Ostagar moved north and overran the town. Right thanked him brusquely, and he and Alistair continued into town.
He looked around. The place was small, divided in halves by a narrow, foul-smelling stream. A chantry stood on this side of the stream, a cluster of small houses and a large building – an inn, perhaps? - on the other. An angry-looking man stood nearby, arguing with a pinch-faced priestess. Right walked closer, wondering what the argument was about.
"Back off! I have the right to charge what I wish!" the man was telling the priestess.
"You profit from their misfortune! I should have the templars give away everything in your carts!" she exclaimed angrily.
"You wouldn't dare! Any of you step too close to my goods, and I'll..." he exclaimed.
"It's so nice to see everyone working together in a crisis. Warms the heart," Alistair interrupted.
The man gave him an annoyed look, then caught sight of Right. "Ho! You there! You look able! Would you care to make a tiny profit helping a beleaguered businessman?"
"Get rid of the 'tiny' part, and I'll consider it," Right told him.
"A-ha! I'm not the only one with some business sense!" the man said, grinning.
A fast bargaining session and exchange of insults later, and Right managed to drive off the pestiferous priestess. The man happily paid him the money, and even offered him a discount on goods. Alistair looked appalled by Right having sided with the merchant, but Right was feeling annoyed enough with Alistair at the moment to not particularly care what he thought. He quickly bargained away most of the saleables from his pack, acquiring some nice portable coin and a few odds and ends in return, including some much-needed supplies for the road.
At Alistair's insistence they headed over to the Chantry after that, to see about handing over the things they'd found on the dead Templar. They entered and looked around. The place was as crowded with refugees as the outside had been, along with a scattering of Chantry priests brothers and sisters, and several Templars.
Alistair's eye's lit up. "Ser Donall!" he exclaimed, striding over to a man to one side. "Is that you?"
"Alistair? By the Maker, how are you? I... I was certain you were dead!" the knight exclaimed.
The two men quickly exchanged news, both angry about Loghain's precipitous retreat from the field at Ostagar. Alistair was disturbed to learn from his friend that one of the men they'd planned to speak to, Arl Eamon, was deathly ill, his knights scattered about the country on some desperate quest for a holy relict of Andraste that might have the power to save him. He also mentioned that he was waiting on his travelling companion to arrive; Ser Henric, a Templar. They quickly realized it was the man the highwaymen had killed, and Alistair turned over his personnel effects to Ser Donall. The man bade them farewell, then left, heading back to Redcliffe.
Next they stopped to speak to the head of the Templars there, one Ser Bryant by name. He was pleased to learn about the deaths of the highwaymen, but less pleased to learn that the two were Grey Wardens; Loghain had declared all Grey Wardens traitors, claiming the order had killed the King at Ostagar, and placing a bounty on their heads. Grim news; now they had to fear attack by bounty hunters as well as bandits and darkspawn.
Ser Bryant himself didn't believe the rumours, however, and slipped them the key to an equipment cupboard, suggesting they take anything they could use, which Right happily accepted. There wasn't much inside, but he found some nice-looking boots and a couple of other items worth slipping into his pack.
Alistair insisted on going to see the Revered Mother next. Right was uncomfortable about that; he didn't like the idea of getting any more involved with this human religion then was strictly necessary, and would have been just as happy to stay away from the woman. When he naturally refused to tithe to the chantry, she reacted in a deeply displeased manner, and he therefore wasn't surprised when she adamantly refused to give the two Grey Wardens any help.
They emerged back outside, richer by quite a few minor additions to Right's pack; he hadn't hesitated to take advantage of the crowded conditions inside to pilfer from any available pockets.
"We need to find a place to camp for the night," Alistair pointed out.
"Let's try the Inn," Right suggested. "It would be nice to sleep in a real bed for once."
Alistair nodded agreement, and the two headed across the nearby bridge.
The Inn was packed with townspeople, refugees and soldiers. One of the soldiers put down his drink and took a step towards them as they entered, an unpleasant smile crossing his face. "Well. Look what we have here, men. I think we've just been blessed," he said loudly. The other soldiers quickly abandoned their own drinks and turned to see what he was talking about.
"Uh-oh. Loghain's men. This can't be good," Alistair said in a low tone.
"Didn't we spend all morning asking about a dwarf by this very description? And everyone said they hadn't seen one?" one of the soldiers asked.
"It seems we were lied to," said the first soldier, who appeared to be the one in command.
A young woman with short red hair, dressed in a Chantry robe, but with a surprising arsenal of weapons strapped to her back, stepped forward out of a shadowed corner. "Gentlemen, surely there is no need for trouble. This is no doubt simply another poor soul seeking refuge," she said persuasively in a strongly-accented voice.
"Out of our way, Sister. If you insist on protecting a traitor, I've no trouble teaching you a lesson," the Commander told her dismissively, then turned his attention back to Alistair and Right. "Enough talk. Take the Wardens into custody. Kill the sister and anyone else that gets in your way," he ordered his men.
Right and the woman had their weapons out before the man finished speaking, Alistair only a hair slower in drawing his sword. Townspeople and refugees retreated from the sudden fight, crying out in alarm. The four of them made short work of the half-drunk soldiers.
"All right, you've won! We surrender!" the commander called out as Right was drawing back his arm for a final blow. He would have continued and killed the man anyway, but the woman hurriedly stepped between them, ending the fight.
"Good. They've learned their lesson and we can all stop fighting, now." she said.
"They aim to butcher us! They deserve no mercy!" Right exclaimed.
"Please! Wait!" the man begged.
"They have surrendered! They were no match for you! Let them be!" the woman exclaimed.
"They were going to kill us," he pointed out grimly.
"But they failed, and I do not wish death on anyone," the woman said.
"But I do," Right said, and slipped past the woman to cut the man's throat before she could protest any further, then finished off the wounded soldiers as well. He wasn't about to leave live enemies behind him.
The woman looked distressed, then pressed her lips together and drew a deep breath through her nose before speaking again. "I apologize for interfering, but I couldn't just sit by and not help."
"Who are you, anyhow?" Right asked.
"Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the Chantry here in Lothering. Or I was."
"And is there something you wanted from me?"
"Those men said you're a Grey Warden. You will be battling the darkspawn, yes? That is what Grey Wardens do? I know after what happened, you'll need all the help you can get. That's why I'm coming along."
"I'm sorry, Sister, but you are very mistaken," Right corrected her.
"Ah, I thought you might say that, but you see, the Maker wants me to join you," she said in an overly bright voice.
"Right... I believe this is where I back away slowly," he said.
The woman tried to convince him to take her along, but having only just gotten rid of one annoying female, Right couldn't imagine taking on another. She might be a good fighter, but she was also clearly as crazy as an outhouse rat. In his experience, "crazy" and "weapons" were a bad mix.
There being no room to stay at the Inn, Right and Alistair headed back outside. Their options were clearly pretty limited; they could try to find some place here in town to sleep, or they could head out of town and camp in the wilds. Given the crowding, stench, and undoubted lightfingeredness of the inhabitants – not to mention not liking the idea of sleeping anywhere near desperate people who'd heard about the sizable bounty on the heads of the Grey Wardens – Right figured 'head out of town' was the smart option.
On the way out of town they passed a metal cage. A tall man – far taller then anyone Right had ever seen before – stood in it, muttering to himself in an unknown tongue. Curious, Right walked over to take a closer look at him.
The giant man looked at him as he approached. "You aren't one of my captors. I have nothing to say that would amuse a dwarf. Leave me in peace."
"What are you?" Right asked curiously.
"A prisoner. I'm in a cage, am I not? I've been placed here by the Chantry. I am Sten of the Beresaad – the vanguard – of the qunari peoples."
"Qunari?"
"If you haven't heard of us, that is your own shortcoming. Though it matters little, now. I will die soon enough."
"Not to put too fine a point on it, but qunari are renowned warriors. If we could release him, perhaps he might help us," Alistair interjected.
"I suggest you leave me to my fate." Sten responded.
"What did you do to end up in here?"
"I have been convicted of murder. Have the villagers not spoken of this?"
"Who did you murder?" Right asked, expecting to here the usual claim of ignorance and innocence.
"The people of a farmhold. Eight humans, in addition to the children."
"Are you guilty?" he asked, startled at the forthright answer.
"Are you asking if I feel guilt, or if I am responsible for the deed? However I feel, whatever I've done, my life is forfeit now."
"If you feel guilty about the murder, why did you do it?"
The qunari snorted. "Either you have an enviable memory, or a pitiable life, to know nothing of regret."
"Capturing you must have been difficult," Right observed, looking at Sten's impressively tall and muscular form.
"There is no difficulty in capturing prey that surrenders."
"You didn't resist capture?" Right exclaimed, surprised.
"I waited for several days until the knights arrived."
"Why?"
"Because I wished to."
Right frowned. He couldn't imagine sticking around some place after killing people, nor passively giving in to capture. Unless... "Are you interested in seeking atonement?"
"Death will be my atonement."
"There are other ways to redeem yourself," he pointed out.
"Perhaps. What does your wisdom say is equal to my crime?"
"You could help me defend the land against the Blight."
"The Blight? Are you a Grey Warden, then?" Sten asked, sounding surprised.
"Yes, I am."
"Surprising. My people have heard legends of the Grey Wardens' strength and skill... though I suppose not every legend is true."
"Maybe the revered mother would let him free?" Alistair suggested.
Sten shrugged, folding his arms across his massive chest. "Perhaps if you told her the Grey Wardens need my assistance. It seems as likely to bring my death as waiting here."
Right frowned in thought. He didn't like the thought of returning to the chantry to talk to that sour old woman again, but on the other hand, having the huge warrior along could only help, at least assuming he wasn't normally given to random slaughter, and it didn't sound like he was.
With a sigh, Right led the way back.
The Revered Mother was less then pleased to see them back again so soon, and even less happy when she heard why they were there. She refused to release the qunari, even when Right invoked the Right of Conscription. Angered, he resorted to threats, which set off Alistair. Seeing how openly upset Alistair was at least convinced the old harridan to give up the key to the cage. She stiffly ordered them not to return.
"Fine by me," Right snarled, and stalked out, Alistair an angry presence at his back. Angry at him.
As they left the Chantry, Right found himself thinking it would have been simpler just to attempt picking the cage's locks, or seeing if he could steal the key somehow. Too late for that now though.
Sten was surprised to be released, but stoically fell into line with Alistair and Stench. He was further surprised, but approving, when Right was able to outfit him with some armour and a weapon.
Right led the way further out of town, looking for a suitable spot to camp for the night.
They settled down in a cold camp at the base of a large tree on a small hillock well outside of town, overlooking a small lake. Right handed around some of the food hed picked up in town earlier from the merchant he'd helped.
Right frowned at Sten as he handed over food and water. "Are you all right? You were in that cage for weeks," he asked.
"You are concerned? No need. I am fit enough to fight," Sten answered shortly, and nibbled slowly at what he'd been given, washing it down with small sips of water.
Right nodded, and looked around. Alistair had moved around to the far side of the tree from them, sitting with his back against it, looking towards the town. Right wandered over.
Alistair gave him a wary look. "What do you need?" he asked shortly.
"I thought you might want to talk about Duncan," Right said hesitantly, lowering himself to sit nearby.
Alistair frowned. "You don't have to do that. I know you didn't know him as long as I did."
"I just thought you might need to talk," Right said, and started to rise to his feet again.
"I... should have handled it better," Alistair abruptly said, looking away. "Duncan warned me right from the beginning that this could happen. Any of us could die in battle. I shouldn't have lost it, not when so much is riding on us, not with the Blight and... and everything. I'm sorry."
Right nodded, glad that Alistair realized he'd been acting stupidly since Ostagar. "Just don't let it happen again," he said softly.
Alistair's face hardened. "Don't worry. So long as we're looking at taking down that bastard, Loghain, I won't be losing any sleep at night. And quite frankly, I regret you ever seeing me fall apart. I wish you hadn't been there at all. And thanks for the warm concern. For a moment there I thought you might actually have cared." He rose to his feet, and stalked off into the darkness.
Right stared after him in surprise. Clearly Alistair had taken his words in some other way then how he'd meant them. He thought of following after him, trying to explain – but likely he'd only manage to make things worse. With a curse, he returned to the other side of the tree, and settled down by Stench, giving the hound's ears a good scratching. "You know what I meant, don't you?" he said plaintively.
Stench whined, and laid his head on Right's knee.