They reached the city walls a few hours later. A suspicious group of men in shoddy armor was guarding a crude blockade near the city gates. The leader of the group smiled greedily as they approached. "Well, well, travelers! Delightful! Welcome to Lothering fair ladies and gentleman. As you can see, my friends and I are here to collect the toll to cross into town. If you wouldn't mind emptying your purses into this coffer, we will gladly see you on your way." He jangled a half-filled tin under Flynn's nose expectantly.
"They don't look like refuges to me boss. Maybe we should let them through," one of the men said nervously from behind him.
"Nonsense," the leader laughed, "Everyone has to pay the toll! Now kindly hand over the silver or we'll take it from your corpses."
"You're kidding, right? Move aside before we report you to the guard," Alistair huffed angrily and began to push forward.
"Ah, ah, ah my friend," the man said venomously and flipped a concealed dagger from his sleeve. He thrust it out towards Flynn's throat. "If you want to get into town, you have to pay the toll. Whether it is in coin or blood is your decision."
Flynn looked down at the rusted dagger the man was brandishing and smiled slyly. Oh, this was going to be fun. With one fluid motion, she twisted the man's arm behind his back, plucked away the dagger and threw him to the ground. She dusted off her hands and turned back to her companions.
"Morrigan would you please show these men what we do with bandits?"
"My pleasure," she said darkly and raised her staff. An unseen force jerked the thug up from the ground and threw him violently into his band of men. They tumbled backwards to the dirt in a tangled heap. The leader stood up unsteadily and yanked another concealed dagger from his waistband.
"You'll pay for that, you bitch," he spat and stalked angrily towards Flynn. Before he could close the gap, he found Alistair's sword biting into his neck.
"I believe you owe the lady an apology, ser," he pushed the blade's point into the man's throat; A trickle of blood slid slowly down its steel edge.
"Of...Of course, I am terribly sorry ma'am. What I meant to say is that we'll just be gathering our things and be on our way," the man stammered.
"Alistair, how do you think they procured so many nice things? Surely you don't believe they stole them do you?"
"I think you're right, Flynn. Maybe they should turn around and leave town before they lose more than just their loot." He shoved the man back towards the group and watched as they fled towards the forest.
"I can't believe those cowards were shaking down desperate refuges," Flynn murmured. "Let's see if we can find a tavern. We can send the city guards to collect and distribute these supplies. Maybe we'll be able to find out what's going on here."
They entered the city through the gates. Hundreds of tents crowded the area. It appeared that the entire south had fled to Lothering to escape the blight. The stench of sickness and unwashed bodies was overpowering. They shoved through the masses towards the ramshackle tavern. A soldier shot out his arm and stopped Flynn roughly.
"There is no more room in Lothering for you refuges. You will need to move on immediately."
"We're not refugees," Flynn tried to explain. "We were at Ostagar."
"So were half the other Maker-Forsaken blighters here. Now move on!"
"Have any grey wardens passed through?" She knew that the question was pointless, but she had to ask.
"No, and Maker help them if they do. Those cowards betrayed the king and tried to flee the battle. Thousands of men died because of their treachery. Teryn Logain has put a bounty out on any grey wardens found; Dead or alive."
"What!?" Flynn and Alistair exclaimed indignantly. "It was Teryn Logain who quit the field, not the Wardens!"
"I wouldn't go around spouting that nonsense if you value your hide," the knight responded darkly. "Now be gone with you. I have no time to sit here and listen to your wild conspiracy theories."
He shoved them along forcefully.
"I can't believe it!" Alistair hissed.
"I can. Logain had to try to cover his betrayal somehow. What better way than to make anyone who could dispute his story a fugitive?" Flynn fumed. "There's the tavern. Let's see if we can't find out more."
They entered the dimly lit inn and grabbed a table near the back. Flynn threw down her gear and collapsed into a chair while Alistair went to the counter to speak with the innkeeper. Morrigan sat across from her, making a point to look as unapproachable as possible. Her unpleasant scowl did not discourage one exceptionally intoxicated drunk who spotted them from across the room. He rose from his bar stool and stumbled over towards them. He slopped ale down the front of his grubby shirt as he plopped on the bench next to Morrigan. "Well, well, well...what have we here? What are a couple beautiful lovelies like you doing in a place like this?" He slurred.
Morrigan pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly annoyed. "Away with you, fool. We have no time for your nonsense," Morrigan prodded him sharply with the end of her staff in an attempt to shoe him away. The drunk was undeterred. He threw back another gulp of ale and leaned in close to her ear.
"Come on, love; let's see what's under that skimpy little top of yours," he whispered crudely.
The man reached for the string holding Morrigan's top together. She flicked her wrist, encasing the offending hand in ice and swung her staff into his face.
"She's a mage!" The man cried through a mouthful of broken teeth and the bar erupted into chaos.
An angry group of patrons began to stampede towards them. Flynn drew an arrow and pointed it at the drunken man's head. "Enough!" she shouted. She was surprised to find Alistair at her side with his sword and shield drawn.
"I leave you two alone for five minutes and you incite a riot?" He muttered to her with an air of amusement.
A colossal man stepped forward and pointed at the sigil on Alistair's shield, "That's the sign of the grey wardens! Teryn Logain has offered five hundred gold pieces to any man who brings him the head of a warden!"
He smashed a bottle against the table and stalked towards them brandishing the jagged glass.
"Wait!" a clear Orlesian voice cried from across the room. The crowd fell silent and parted to reveal a beautiful woman dressed in the robes of a chantry sister. Her fiery red hair was cropped to her chin, perfectly framing her angelic face. "Gentlemen, surely there has been enough fighting for one lifetime. Can we not find it in our hearts to leave these travelers in peace?" She asked soothingly.
All eyes followed as her heels clicked lightly across the stone pavers. Flynn saw a quick glint of metal as the woman slid a hand into her robe pocket and subtlety concealed a wicked looking dagger up her sleeve. No one other than Alistair seemed to notice her deft sleight of hand. They exchanged a meaningful look and tightened their grip on their weapons as she approached the man with the broken bottle. The chantry sister was obviously more than she appeared; whether that was advantageous for them remained to be seen.
"Ser, surely there is a way to solve this conflict without bloodshed. Come, let us go to the chantry and ask the Maker to forgive you for what I am sure is an uncharacteristic act of violence." She placed a hand gently on his arm and gave him a small smile. The man began to lower his weapon, as if hypnotized by the calming power of her voice.
"Don't let that pretty face distract you, Saul! That's five hundred silver the Teryn's offering!" an angry patron shouted from the crowd. The man seemed to regain his resolve and shook away her hand with a scowl. He turned back to face the wardens and lumbered towards them.
"Why must we always have to do things the hard way," the woman sighed and withdrew the dagger from her gown. With a flash, it flew across the bar and pierced the man's wrist. He howled furiously and the bar erupted into a brawl.
"Try not to kill anyone unless you have to; Most of these men are just desperate refuges!" Flynn shouted to her companions. A poorly aimed arrow hurtled past her and thudded into the wall; the attackers, it seemed, were not so considerate. Bottles, glasses, chairs, and anything else not bolted to the ground began to fly through the air. Flynn slipped easily through the confusion, disarming or knocking unconscious the inebriated patrons. A pile of groaning, disoriented men began to scramble over one another towards the exit. It only took the remaining attackers a few minutes to realize that they were vastly out skilled. They soon began to flee the tavern in limping, bleeding droves. Alistair helped a few stragglers out with a well-placed boot to the bottom.
Flynn watched them retreat out the door and down the dirt path out of town. The chantry sister stood infront of the tavern fire a few paces away from her. The blazing coals illuminated her fiery tresses. The woman still clutched the wicked looking dagger in her hand. She suddenly bared her teeth wrathfully and let the blade fly. Flynn yelped as the dagger flew past her and hit its mark with a wet squelch. She whirled around as the body of the bar-brawl instigator fell to her feet, still clutching the broken bottle. He had apparently been lying in wait behind the bar-counter for an opportune moment to strike. The sister's dagger now lodged deep in his chest. The woman had saved her life.
They watched as she walked forward and wrenched the weapon from his corpse, "I am Leliana," she said cheerfully. She wiped the blood from her dagger with the man's shirt.
"I..I..umm.." Flynn stuttered.
"I believe what she means to say is thank you," Alistair finished.
"My pleasure," the sister beamed and nimbly twirled the dagger between her fingers.
"Where does a sister learn to handle a blade like that?" Flynn finally asked in disbelief.
"Oh, I wasn't born in the chantry. Many of us had more...colorful... lives before we joined," She said evasively.
"Well, regardless, thank you. My name is Flynn. This is my fellow Warden Alistair and our friend Morrigan," Flynn gestured to each of her companions.
"Friends is a generous way of putting it," Morrigan muttered and knelt to loot the dead man's purse.
A strange troubled look replaced Leliana's smile. "So you are Grey Wardens then?"
"Yes, but please," Flynn pled, "You must understand that those men were wrong to attack us. The Wardens were not to blame for the battle at Ostagar. We saw Teryn Logain quit the field ourselves. He is trying to use the wardens as a scapegoat to distract from his treason." Flynn knew that accusing Fereldan's greatest hero of betrayal must sound ridiculous. She prayed that they were not about to lose the only ally they had gained on this already desperate quest.
"So you are the Wardens from my vision then," Leliana said softly. She fell to her knees and crossed her chest in a sign to Andraste. A broad smile suddenly lit up her face and she clapped her hands excitedly. "I just knew you would come!"
"Wait...Pardon?" Alistair asked incredulously.
"The Maker wants me to go with you!" She rose to her feet and took Flynn's hands. "He granted me a vision to tell me that you would be coming and that I was to help you."
"More crazy? I thought we were full up..."Alistair mumbled. Flynn elbowed him sharply in the stomach.
"I...umm..." Flynn began, thinking frantically of a polite way to rid herself of the obviously mad woman.
"I know that sounds absolutely insane, but it is true! Please allow me to accompany you and lend you my skills. You will not regret it, I assure you," she begged.
"I...umm..." Flynn mumbled, still grasping desperately to find any valid reason for turning away a skilled blade.
"It is settled then!" Leliana cried happily. "I will go the chantry at once and collect my things! We should meet near the north exit and leave this place immediately before the men who attacked you alert others." The woman turned on her heels and practically floated out of the tavern.
"Wonderful," Alistair grumbled, "What other delights will this day hold?"
They left the tavern and began to make their way towards the town center.
"Morrigan, why don't you go ahead and meet Leiliana near the north gates while Alistair and I barter with that merchant...Morrigan?"
Flynn turned around to find Morrigan stopped near the chantry. She stood in front of a cage holding an enormous man with stark white hair. They jogged back to her. Flynn found herself captivated by the giant chained before her. The sheer size of the man was astonishing. He was at least a full foot taller than any man Flynn had ever seen. Thick bands of muscle pulled at the fabric of his shirt.
"What a shame to cage such power. You are Qunari are you not?" Morrigan inquired, showing an uncharacteristic inquisitiveness.
"I will not amuse you any more than the other humans. Leave me in peace," he replied stoically.
"Tell me, what are you doing in this cage?" She continued, nonplussed.
"I was placed here by the chantry. I am Sten of the Qunari vanguard." His enormous hands gripped the bars of the cage as he stared icily into Flynn's eyes.
"We should release him and bring him with us. This is a proud and powerful creature trapped as prey for the darkspawn. If you cannot see a use for him I suggest we release him for mercies sake," Morrigan said and turned to Flynn.
"Oh sure, let's release the caged criminal giant. Wonderful idea. Why don't we also go throw rocks at hornets' nests and tease a few bears while we're at it?" Alistair quipped shortly.
"Are you sure Morrigan? I mean we don't even know why the chantry put him here," Flynn said hesitantly.
"I have been convicted of murder. Eight humans, in addition to the children," he said expressionlessly.
"Why?" She asked, taken aback by his blunt admission.
"It does not matter now. My life is forfeit. Leave me or take me with you, I care not."
He looked at her steadily with his cold, hard gaze. Flynn bit her lip as she weighed her choices. After a few moments, she pulled a lock pick from her pack and went to work at freeing him. "I'm not so sure this is a good idea Morrigan, but if you truly think he can assist us then I will trust your judgment."'
"You're actually going along with this nonsense?" Alistair shook his head in confusion, "He freely admits to murdering innocent people, and you want to just bring him with us?"
"We have killed men too, Alistair. We will need all the help we can get in the days to come. Besides, this is hardly the time to be looking a gift horse in the mouth," She said as the lock finally clicked open. "Morrigan, take him with you to the north exit and wait for us while we get some supplies."
Morrigan nodded dismissively and walked with Sten towards the gates.
"And so our merry band of misfits gains another outcast. I hope you know what you're doing."
"Not in the slightest," she laughed and they set off towards the merchant wagon.
After several minutes of bartering, they finally procured the supplies they were lacking and five ramshackle tents.
"I've never seen such price gouging; are you sure that shop keeper wasn't a darkspawn in disguise?" Flynn grumbled as she packed away her significantly lighter coin purse. They left together out of the north gate where Sten and Morrigan were waiting. Leliana jogged towards them from the chantry. She had changed from her chantry robes into light plate mail and waved cheerfully as she approached.
"Please tell me we are not seriously considering bringing this sanctimonious ball of frivolity with us," Morrigan mumbled angrily.
Flynn ignored her and stared down at the map she had purchased from the merchant. They now stood at the main crossroad outside the village.
"Well, now what?" Alistair asked Flynn.
"Wait, why do I have to decide? You are the senior grey warden. What do you think we should do?"
"Wonderful. You mean to tell me that you two are the only hope at stopping this blight, and you have not even considered how you are going to go about doing it? Have you even looked at the treaties my mother gave you?" Morrigan sighed.
"Of course we've...looked...at them." Alistair shifted uncomfortably. They had not even opened the chest yet. Flynn pulled the treaties from her pack and unfolded each one.
"Let's see, there are three treaties between the Wardens and the Dwarves, the Dalish elves and the circle of Magi. Where should we begin?" Flynn looked to each of them, "Come on, any help at all?"
"Fine," Alistair relented, "Why don't we go to Redcliff Village first before invoking the treaties? Arl Eamon is a good man; he raised me when I was a child before I was sent to the chantry. He will surely join his forces to our cause. Plus, Redcliff is only a stone's throw away to the Circle of Magi."
"There we go. Now we have a plan. We can discuss the logistics once we're on the road," Flynn shouldered her pack, "Now come on; let's get out of here before another angry mob shows up."