Stupid white stuff – when it's not getting all in my fur, during the morning, it's melting in the afternoon and making miserable gunk run down my back! And it's making this road hard to follow…
"… How much further?" Qunie asks again. "This is the official road to Orzammar, yes? Intolerable…"
Oh, shut your noise! At least your knees are above the snowdrift… try shoving your way through at waist-level, before complaining.
"Between going half-way up a mountain, just to dig underground to hide, and picking this range for it… perhaps the Dwarves just want to discourage visitors. They had one too many tax-man knocking on their door, before converting to the Stone?"
Nobody's laughing, Crybaby – quit it with the jokes.
Morrie snorts in annoyance, and pulls the cloak tighter around her. See? Even she's saving her breath, instead of insulting you. It's a waste of energy, at this point.
Mistress is standing up ahead, on a stone thing… a bridge over a drainage ditch, by the look. She turns back to watch us. Mostly Biddy – probably seeing if she can handle the weather. If not, can we trade her in for another Mage?
Of course, the stubborn old thing is pushing on… oh well.
Okay, Mistress – what made you st… oh. Good. The snow stops after this hill. But that isn't what she's looking at… these idiots, trying to hide behind that pillar?
Chirpy follows her gaze, and lets out a sigh. "Bandits?"
"I doubt it" Mistress replies. "If so, they would be further down, to avoid the merchant camp spotting them and sending out a posse of thugs. My guess: they're waiting for somebody in particular. With our luck…"
"More fools" Morrie groans. "I suppose the sport will help us limber up, after the climb."
"How many?" Qunatic asks, rolling his shoulders.
"Definitely three… and two or three in hiding" Mistress says, pointing to bits of cover. "They've probably spotted us too, so be ready to hit first."
"If they try to strike first, you mean?" Biddy asks. "Nobody should even know we were coming here, so there's no need to assume the worst of them."
"I'm assuming the worst of everyone – sooner or later, they show it."
They're armed and skulking about… unless there's violent competition for the best mountain views nowadays, Biddy, they'll attack us. That's probably more of a reason for them to attack us!
I can see them better now, and their armour looks pretty new. Front man's tensing up… yep. It's an attack. "About time a Warden showed! Loghain sends his regards!" Huh – I guess Low Gain did know we were heading this way. You're wrong again, Biddy!
The usual body search turns up some coin… what's Chirpy got?
"Here – a bounty warrant. I expect groups like this one will be searching all over, for us." She hands it over to Crybaby.
"… They even added you two" he says. "Either this is an old note, or they don't know about Wynne and Sten."
Mistress glances at it, before crushing it. "Check the Mage, too" she gestures, dropping the paper.
I wonder… what's it say about me? I stamp down on a corner, and smooth it out with my snout. "Grey Warden woman, red hair, possibly bearing Highever heraldry…" Where's my bit? "…Tan Mabari male, full-grown."
Seeing I'm done, Crybaby grabs the paper and slips it into his bag. "Better not leave it lying about."
What, that's all they wrote about me?! How disapp… wait, no. With a description that vague, they'll never recognise me! I'll sneak up on the bastards and bite them all on the arse.
He looks back at me, probably since my stub is wagging. "… Liked your description, did you?" It's passable. "Assuming you could actually read that." Everyone can read. It's not that hard. Well, not for us Mabari. You humans might have a problem with it? My stub wags again in pride. "… Hmm. Just how smart are Mabari?"
I still have the mull… moult… numbers times chart memorised. Nine nines is eighty-one, and so on. Pick something, I'll stamp the number with my foot!
"Is that so? You could just be listening to the tone of my voice. You might be an utter moron, for all I know."
I can understand you being jealous of my skill, Crybaby… but I can't accept your filthy slurs upon my pedigree!
"… Hey now, There's nothing saying a moron can't be cute and adorable! Who's the cute and adorable puppy?"
… You. I'm not a puppy, and if those words qualify a moron, then you're cute and adorable.
"Ignorance is bliss, isn't it? That's what the Chantry kept telling me, anyway."
Yeah, I bet they did. The Fussy Women wanted to cheer you up, about being a dunderhead… wait, where did the others go?! That's rude, walking off while I'm explaining things to Crybaby. Do you guys want him to get lost, on his own? He already said he takes his pants off when that happens! … I have no idea why he would, but that's what he told us!
We find them, up in the marketplace. Biddy's off by herself, so Chirpy and Morrie are the closest to us. Morrie's trying to pull away, while Chirpy waves around at the various tents. "Just look around, with me – maybe we could find you a nice dress. Silk… no, velvet. Velvet is heavier, better to guard against the cold." She stops, and thinks. "Dark red velvet? Yes… and gold embroidery!"
"You are insane. I would sooner let Alistair dress me!"
Crybaby smirks, as we keep listening. He's probably going to make her wear a bucket on her head… or even worse, that ridiculous hat Mistress found in the Tower. Covered in feathers, and dangly things! Chirpy said she was stealing it to "burn the horrible thing", but I bet she saved it.
Is she still talking about the dresses? "Something cut low in the front, of course. We don't want to hide your features."
Morrie pulls away, stammering. "… Stop looking at my breasts like that! 'Tis most… disturbing!" She marches off, towards where I finally see Mistress is.
"… Was she about to grab her… no. But… she was definitely staring." What are you on about, Crybaby? "Huh… hot." Okay, you stay here and let your mouth hang half-open. I'm gonna go see what Mistress is doing.
Looking at swords, apparently. She notices a huge one at the back, and demands to see it. "A real beauty, eh? I got that from-" She ignores the merchant, and spins around.
"Sten! I think I found him!" The confused merchant creeps back a little, seeing Qunie stomp across the marketplace. "Here. Is this it?"
"No, but it does look like one that belonged to our party. You! Where is my sword?"
Mistress holds up her hands. "Just let us see the other weapons you found, at Lake Calenhad. We don't care about your grave-robbing, alright?"
"I… don't know what you mean, ser!"
She shakes her head, and pulls out a coin purse. "… How much? I'll meet whatever price you're holding it for."
"I don't have it, I swear!"
She glances up at the big guy. "Sten… pull his arms off."
"No! I already sold the other one, to a Dwarf in Redcliffe. His name was Dwyn!"
"… That sounds familiar." Mistress taps her belt for a moment. "The greedy whiner… I remember him." Oh yeah, he was toey about going near his stuff. Probably had it in the back-room.
"He has the sword, I promise ya! Said he was a collector!"
"We shall see" Qunie mutters, as Mistress leads him away.
"I'll bet that arse is still in Redcliffe, hiring out his thugs to fill the lack of guards. We can swing back, once I'm done. It's been a while, if Tegrin was even right about Orzammar restricting entry, it should be finished by now. I'll go meet King…" She waves a hand, frowning in thought. "…Endrin, flash the Warden treaty and my best smile at him, and we'll be done."
"… I'm afraid not" Biddy says, clearing her throat. "I was speaking to some of the Dwarven merchants. King Endrin died three weeks ago."
"Fuck… if they haven't picked a successor, we can still talk to whoever's the current Steward." Mistress waves everyone over. "This may take longer than I hoped… but disappearing for a while might be good. If Loghain thinks we've gone over the border, he'll call off his dogs. We can find the Dalish in peace, then."
"The Blight is not in Orlais yet. Why would he think that?" Qunie asks.
"Back in Ostagar, he had his usual paranoia about Orlais. Even thinks the Wardens are Orlesian, despite being from the Anderfels, and so on. Those goons were up here, probably to watch the Pass… and their note made mention of Leliana being Orlesian. He was expecting us to come this way, but not for the Dwarves."
"Hopefully his men can focus on the Blight, instead of us, if we remove ourselves" Chirpy muses.
"… Maybe. If he wakes up to the threat." Mistress sighs. "I don't know what to make of the condition of Ostagar, but that wasn't the camp of a General who takes the Darkspawn seriously. I thought Cailan might have rushed things, hoping to get the war won before Feastday… like that would be his triumph to outdo Maric. But his man told us Cailan knew something was wrong… I don't even know what the fuck to think, anymore. We'll focus on the treaties, and find a way to speak with Anora… it's all we can do."
"No argument here" Crybaby tells her.
"Just Dwarven politics… and they say the Assembly's even worse than the autumn Landsmeet. Well, let's go."
Morrie frowns for a moment. "I take it the autumn one is somehow more tedious?"
Biddy shrugs. "I expect everyone demands their proposals be met before winter."
"… True enough, I suppose" Morrie says, falling into place behind us.
Mistress signals everyone to stop again. People up ahead… armour and weapons. Can't we go anywhere without suicidal halfwits wanting a fight? It's like we're leaking blood across the countryside, every time we go somewhere. There's a Dwarf yelling back at them… ha! He's standing on the next ramp up, to look them in the eye… wonder if he did that on purpose?
"King Loghain demands the allegiance of the deshyr… lords, or whatever you call yourselves in the Assembly! I am his appointed messenger!"
… You?! Are all the others still on Feastday leave? What idiot thought your screechy whining would make a good diplomat? Friendly bit of advice: The Dwarves aren't actually part of Ferelden, so a King can't demand shit from them.
I hear Mistress groan, clearly thinking the same thing… that or she just hates anyone working for this Low Gain guy.
"I don't care if you're the King's wiper! Orzammar will have none but its own until our throne is settled" the Dwarf tells… Big Ears.
Mistress walks up the other side of the platform, and salutes. "I have urgent need to speak with the Steward."
Big Ears pauses for a second, probably thinking the Steward is a soup-cook, before getting shouty again. "Who doesn't? If I don't get in, nobody should."
Grow up, Big Ears. It's not a competition.
The Dwarf turns to Mistress, since she knows enough to ask for the Steward. "The Assembly is still dead-locked, so the doors remain shut. If the matter is not resolved soon, we risk a civil war."
Mistress glances at Big Ears and his goons, doing a quick count. "If they're all gathered, that will save us time… I must speak with the Assembly, about the Blight."
"Wait… who are you?" Big Ears asks, finally looking at us. "The King didn't mention he was sending anyone else."
"Thank the Ancestors" Dwarf mutters, as Mistress finally hands him the treaty. "Well, that is the Royal seal… so only the Assembly are authorised to address it."
Big Ears looks ready to vomit with rage. "What?! But I'm the King's messenger!"
Biddy glares at him. "What an odd thing to say… since I hear the Teyrn refuses to call a Landsmeet. It would be impossible for such an appointment to be ratified. Unless he's following Meghren's example, and declared himself King?"
Big Ears goes dark in the face, as Dwarf motions at the huge gates. "You may enter, Grey Warden… but I do not know what help you will find."
"The Wardens killed King Cailan! You're letting in a traitor?! A foreigner?!" Mistress is Fereldan, idiot; just like you.
"We're both foreigners here, you stupid shit" Mistress hisses, putting the treaty away. "And Loghain's not King… trust me, I know how succession works."
Big Ears glowers in rage, while another goon whispers to him. No need to get so close. With those things on his head, he can probably hear people down in the valley! "Yes… of course. You're the Cousland bitch! No wonder you fell in with the Wardens, after your family's treachery was exposed! One rat's nest is as good as another?"
… I knew it. Suicidal.
Mistress simply turns her head to the Dwarf. "Where?"
He points down the slope. "Kill each other as you will… just take your sodding fight off our doorstep!"
She draws her sword, and walks away backwards, in order to keep insulting Big Ears. "So be it... speaking of traitors, tell me; did Loghain kill his daughter before seizing her crown, or did he wait a few days? Maybe he was tired, after leaving the King to die. She'd have to be dead, for him to be anywhere near the throne, after all."
He charges down the path after us, spluttering in rage… poor idiot is so focused on Mistress, he's not even watching anyone else. Qunie pivots on one foot, and almost slices off his sword-arm with one swing. A second chop finishes the job, and then he slams You Saw Us into Big Ears' chest. Morrie and the goon Mage are throwing spells back and forward at each other, and the rest of us quickly spread out to attack the other goons.
I wonder if Door Dwarf minds the mess… not sure we were far enough down.
"You've done me a service – that fool was barking for a week!" I guess not. He turns, and motions for the guards to open the gates.
Orzammar ho! Thanks to everyone reading, following and such - welcome back Pervinca, appreciate the review.
The horrible hat, as you might have guessed, is the Libertarian's Cowl - aka the thing I make Wynne wear whenever she goes on about the Warden's romance.