A storm was brewing when the MacEanraig fleet reached the harbor of Amaranthine, a grey sky looming over a grey wild churning sea, its storm-lashed waves pressing the ships against the quay. And that's where the first part of my plan went down the drain. The ship with Rori on board couldn't leave for Denerim. She was trapped in Amaranthine just like anybody else, with the darkspawn knocking down the front gates and the force of nature blocking the only way out across the sea.

And it got even better! The moment the ships arrived at the harbor, I realized Amaranthine was to become my Denerim 2.0. The plan had been to help with the defense of Amaranthine, like a reinforcement, you know. The very last thing I had intended to be was the very last hope of a city crammed with desperate and panic-stricken people and a whole lot of nasty darkspawn running amok.

"We cannot leave the harbor," Rori shouted at me over the howling storm. "The wind and waves will crush the ship against the cliffs."

"There's darkspawn in this city!" I retorted stubbornly, not willing to submit to something as insignificant as a hurricane. Rori was my love, my wife—and she was pregnant! I certainly wasn't going to let her get anywhere near the darkspawn. "Your uncle said he would sail you to Denerim!" And that was the only reason why I had given in when she said she wanted to accompany me. We both had been reluctant to leave each other after we finally were officially allowed to be together. I had believed her to be safe in Denerim while I was battling darkspawn. So, sailing on the same ship had seemed a win-win-situation; we could spend as much time together as possible before we parted—maybe for good.

"We hardly made it to Amaranthine!" Rori pointed out. "And the storm has only just begun. It gets stronger with every minute passing. We have to leave the ship before we get caught in a storm surge. It's either drowning here or facing the darkspawn out there."

"She's right, son," Angus MacEanraig droned in my ear.

Blast, I knew she was right! I hadn't grown up by the sea and my ancestors weren't the most infamous sea raiders of Ferelden, but living in a fishermen's village next to Ferelden's greatest lake had taught me a thing or two about the force of water. But I was also very aware of the danger that had crawled to the surface to spread death and pestilence.

"BLAST!" I roared in anger, despair and frustration, hammering first my fists then my head against the railing until Rori took my face in her hands and made me look her in the eyes. "You have no idea what is awaiting you in there," I groaned.

"No." she admitted, then added with an impish grin: "But I have you. And I have my swords and one hundred soldiers, my overprotective, oversized uncle, two formidable mages, a sly bard, one adamant golem, a faithful mabari, and a ladle-swinging granny. What could possibly go wrong?"

"You're right. What am I actually worried about? We've got Mrs. C. and her ladle!" I laughed when all I wanted to do was cry and pull out my hair and curse the Maker. But that would have brought Mrs. Couldry and her ladle into the arena and I for sure wasn't suicidal. No, not at all.

Yep, I could think of about a billion things that could go wrong. But what choice did I have? Amaranthine was surrounded by the sea and steep cliffs on three sides. With the rampaging hurricane, the only way out was through the city and thus, past the darkspawn.

"Marvellous," I sighed, failing miserably in sounding as carefree and light-hearted as I had intended as I wearily leaned against the railing at the sight of the city and the horde of darkspawn glaring at us from the pier. They snarled and growled and hissed threateningly. The MacEanraig sea raiders roared in reply, banging their weapons against their shields. "Burning houses, darkspawn everywhere, corpses littering the streets, the taint spreading like wildfire... The only thing missing is the archdemon," I shouted into Rori's ear.

All Rori had to say when she saw the mess was: "I love you." And then she grabbed me by the collar of my armor and kissed me right there in front of everybody and their dog. I wrapped my arms around her to hold her tight, cursing the barrier of the blasted armor between us and for once not giving a damn about the audience. Closing my eyes, I shut anything out but Rori, the softness of her lips, the velvety sensation of her kiss, the faint scent of verbena. We both were aware that this could be our very last kiss. And yet it was a promise, a vow that death would not part us today. I could sense it in her stance, in the way she held on to me, in the fierceness of her kiss. Stubbornly she raised a claim daring death to deny her what rightfully belonged to her. The Grim Reaper would have to get past a grim ginger first to get me. And although the situation was as bad as can be—to be exact it probably was even worse—but when confronted with certain death, an unhealthy dose of self-deceit is the only thing that keeps you going. My bet was on Rori.

By the time we breathlessly broke the kiss, she had convinced me that we indeed stood a chance if only we were courageous enough to take it. That's the "Rori effect." Even when in the very center of a disaster, beyond all expectations she mulishly persists. So much stubborn persistence rubs off eventually. There's no way to resist it.

"The city is lost!" Wulff bellowed in my ear to make himself heard above the storm right when I— thanks to Rori—had managed to persuade myself everything was going to be alright. I pretended not to hear him. I couldn't afford such a defeatist attitude. Ferelden would have been wiped off the face of Thedas if Suri or I or any of our companions—minus Sten and Shale—had ever thought of anything as lost before it was truly as dead as a gryphon. So, instead of arguing with Wulff, I tried to give an encouraging speech, only to find my words carried away by the wind. "Blast it," I muttered and opted for the all-time favorite battle cry of all patriots instead as soon as the gangway hit solid ground: "FOR FERELDEN!" My cry was answered by a hundred throats before we all lunged into battle, meeting the darkspawn awaiting us at the pier.

Fiona and Wynne roasted the first row of attackers. Another half a dozen was bodysplashed by Shale when she jumped off the gangway. I charged across it, using its massive body as a bridge. The magic circling through my system made me bristle with energy. At the same time, I could sense my body's weariness. Still, I struck and parried, brought my sword down on the heads and shoulders of my enemies, pummeled them with my shield. Behind me, the MacEanraig soldiers flooded the pier. Rori was amongst them. Mrs. Couldry, too.

The confidence Rori had given me was swept away the very moment I had to watch the darkspawn attack her. I did my best to protect her, but there were just too many of them to block every blow directed her way. It didn't feel right to have her fight next to me. Then, after some time, I figured out that being next to me was the most dangerous place to be. Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn and they can sense us. A Grey Warden amongst darkspawn is like a red rag to a bull. So, they kept coming for me and I had to put as much distance between Rori and me as I could to keep her out of the danger zone.

Just marvelous!

Rori shouldn't have been on the battlefield at all, but since it was too dangerous to enter the city and too dangerous to stay on board the ship, it was literally the choice between the devil and the deep blue sea. So once again I prayed to the Maker I would be able to protect her. And once again I was scared out of my mind that I would lose her.

For Rori the sentiment for sure was mutual. She had begged me not to go to Amaranthine, but I had insisted. I had begged her to stay at West Hill, but she had insisted. And now we both wished we had listened to the other. We could have been sitting in West Hill, drinking tea—or more likely... licking lampposts. Next time, someone please remind me trying to be a good king will only get me into deep shit trouble—preferably before I charge right into said deep shit trouble.

"I will protect the Queen with my life if need be, your Majesty," Fiona vowed with grim determination at my obvious distress. She and Wynne acted like a dear aunt and granny around me. I knew from Wynne she had a son that was taken away from her and handed over to the Chantry. Perhaps it was the same with Fiona.

"I don't intend to make you deliver on your promise," Rori muttered, not sounding as poised as she wanted me to believe. What she lacked in confidence she made up with stubborn determination. She had decided none of us would die today, so none of us would die. Fact. "But thanks anyway."

"Nobody will sacrifice themselves for anybody or anything," I growled, gripping my sword tighter. "The only ones dying today are the darkspawn." Oh Maker, please, please let it only be darkspawn.

We hadn't expected to invade an already invaded city. Within all the chaos, the best option we had to get some information was to seek it from the person in charge: Bann Esmerelle. She and I weren't exactly besties—unless there's something like best foes. Bestoes, haha. Um, anyway, she was a Franderel supporter and things hadn't changed a bit with the scoundrel's death.

Still, we fought our way through the city in chaos, through mud and the pouring rain, through darkspawn and ghouls towards the castle—only to find it shut down. So much for information, help, or the possibility to drop Rori there for her own safety. On a second thought, leaving her with Esmerelle sounded as bad an option as darkspawn or drowning...

A crowd, driven by fear, despair, and fury, had gathered at the gates of the castle, drumming against the solid wood with bare fists, people pressing in from behind, squishing the ones at the front as the darkspawn were breathing down their necks. The soldiers on the walls fired arrows at the people and the darkspawn alike, stones rained down on their heads, driving the people away from the gates and right onto the blades of the darkspawn. They had nowhere to go. Death followed them wherever they turned. When face to face with the darkspawn, for many a stone bashing their skulls in seemed the lesser of two evils.

We made short work of the darkspawn because that's what we were there for and afterwards exchanged some niceties with Bann Esmerelle. You probably remember me saying that the good thing about the Blight is how this threat brings people together, right? And that was probably the reason why Bann Esmerelle—one of Franderel's supporters and the person responsible for the assassination of the Warden Commander—had barricaded herself and her soldiers in her castle as soon as the news of an approaching darkspawn horde had reached her ears and the storm had thwarted her plans of just boarding a ship to flee from the city, abandoning her people. Now she personally appeared on the wall with an elven maid to carry her umbrella so she wouldn't get wet from the rain to inform me that I was not her king. Charming, eh?

"You have no power here, mongrel," Esmerelle hissed. "I do not yield to your orders. You call yourself a king, but you will never in any way be kingly. You're exactly where you belong right now, in the gutter amongst the scum you came from!"

"No problem," I shot back. "I'm more the king-of-the-people type anyway. That's why I am down here defending the men, women, and children of Amaranthine, while you are up there throwing stones at helpless people."

"How dare you!?" Esmerelle shrieked while her maid fought to keep the umbrella in place despite the storm threatening to rip it from her hands. "You aren't the rightful king."

"You repeat yourself and while you spit insults at me your people die. This is not the right time for rivalry. We have to stand together and unite against the real enemy and save the city and its people." I tried to argue with common sense and reason. Naive, I know.

"The city can be rebuilt, and there are more people than we can feed anyway. What do I care if they die? I can hold this fortress forever and from the safety of its towers watch your defeat," Esmerelle gloated. Having fought bravely, her maid lost control over the umbrella, it was torn from her hands and blown away. Within seconds Esmerelle was drenched. "You stupid bitch!" she snapped, slapping the elf so hard across the face the poor girl was thrown against the battlement, covering her head with her hands for protection as Esmerelle's fists drummed down on her.

"Esmerelle!" I shouted furiously. "Leave her alone!" I don't get why so many nobles believe it to be their statutory right to mistreat their servants, especially when they are elves. It's totally beyond me. Again. Some people call me naive. Some say I'm an irredeemable fool. They're probably right. I will never understand this.

"What is it with you and the knife-ears?" Esmerelle spat at me. "You surround yourself with them, you share your bed with them. I wonder, are you one of their mutts? Do you plan to overthrow the human race?"

"Right now I'm trying to save it, starting with the people of Amaranthine. Just in case you haven't yet noticed, there's darkspawn murdering all the citizens: human, elven, dwarven. Men or women. Young and old. Poor or rich. They do not discriminate."

"Oh, now he's preaching!" Esmerelle mocked me, shoving the poor elven maid so hard the girl lost balance and toppled over the battlement. With a startled cry of pure horror she fell, crushing on the ground, her body twisted. Unimpressed, Esmerelle went on, dispensing her venom: "You're some Orlesian whore's bastard, useless street waste..."

Whatever else she had to say was drowned by the furious uproar from the frenzied crowd. It had been hard to keep them under control while I was arguing with Esmerelle, even harder to calm them when the bann had condemned them to die, marking them insignificant. Now, with the death of the maid, the public anger broke lose. I didn't believe for a single second most of them gave a damn about the elf herself. She had become a symbol of their own fate, something to be thrown away like waste when seen as useless. That moment even they didn't give a damn if I was or wasn't Maric's son. I was their king because I was right there in the heat of the battle to defend them—thus why they did not try again to break down the gates. I was here now to do the dirty work. "Hail King Alistair!" cries didn't sit well with Esmerelle and she completely lost her nerve. "Shoot him!" she screamed at her soldiers. "Shoot him!" Hesitatingly the archers raised their bows, arrows knocked. "SHOOT HIM! That is an order! Obey! I will have you hanged! This is treachery!" The bowmen still didn't react and I held my own men back.

"Indeed, it is," I confirmed, my hand resting on Fiona's shoulder to stop her from frying the bann-bitch. The mage was bristling with anger, hissing insults under her breath. Rori was equally agitated and didn't give a damn about keeping her voice low. I had to shush her to make myself heard. Why didn't I rid the world of her? Maker, believe me, I was tempted! But that's not how just and wise kings work, you see. When you want others to abide by the moral standards you set, you cannot just jettison them whenever it suits you. That's what makes being the good guy so incredibly exhausting and unnerving. I am told it is worth the effort. I cannot yet confirm it's true.

"You cannot sit in there forever," I informed Esmerelle coolly when I rather would have had her spiked with arrows. "As soon as I am done with saving Amaranthine, I'll come for you, mark my words."

"You will not live to see me defeated!" Esmerelle screeched, grabbed a bow and arrow from the nearest archer and aimed. "DIE, YOU BAS..."

THUD! SPLASH!

A huge stone sat where Esmerelle had stood only seconds ago. Next to me the golem dusted off its hands. "Strike!" it droned triumphantly.

"Err... but... did you... you... you killed her!" I gasped, trying hard not to let my glee show. Rori didn't exercise as much restraint. Actually, none at all when she grabbed an equally gleeful Fiona by her hands and danced her around, singing: "Ding-dong, the bitch is dead!" Once the crowd had recovered from their shock, they joined in, cheering and jubilating about the death of their liege.

Haha! My sentiments exactly. Mental note to myself: Invite Shale for the traditional duck hunting this year as a treat.

"You flesh creatures waste too much time on useless blah blah blah," Shale grunted. "The problem is solved now, isn't it?" I couldn't possibly argue about that. Too bad Shale planned to leave with Wynne soon. The golem had a special talent as a trouble shooter. "Does it want me to shoot down the rest of them, too?" It picked up a rock and twirled it around at the tip of its index finger.

"Err, no, I believe they just volunteered to help defend the city," I hurried to say. Miraculously, the gates of the castle indeed swung open, the soldiers marched out, the people sought refuge inside and then we all happily got together to kill some darkspawn. I had to pinch myself to actually believe it.

I briefly considered parking Rori at the castle, a possible safe harbor in all this chaos, death, and destruction. With Esmerelle dead my biggest foe was gone, but that didn't mean I suddenly had become everybody's darling. For example, Esmerelle's family now appearing on the wall, trying to roll the rock off their dead mother, certainly wouldn't send me birthday cards with best wishes.

"Don't you even think about leaving me here," Rori hissed just when I was trying to figure out how many guards I would have to leave back to protect her.

"Who? Me? Never!" I laughed, nervously running my fingers through my hair.

Onward we went through the havocked city. More dead, more desperate, a whole lot more darkspawn—and pillagers. We rounded a corner and almost stumbled over a group of almost thirty young men loaded with jewelry and expensive-looking furniture, clothes, pots, pans and whatever else they could carry. Whereto they wanted to flee with all those things when the darkspawn were both at their heels and around the next corner was totally beyond me. Some of the rightful owners defended their belongings against the pillagers, endangering their own lives over a painting or a bedside table. We ended up rescuing the pillagers and the citizens from their own stupidity and from the darkspawn. You'd think they would be somewhat grateful with their lives saved and such. Haha, keep dreaming. You know nothing about human nature. I don't know about you, but sometimes I wonder why I make the effort at all.

At least all that trouble made for a real warm welcome as soon as we arrived at the gates where the city guard and Grey Wardens had gathered their remaining forces.

"Alistair, my royal friend, I had never thought to be glad to see you again."

"The sentiment is mutual, Zevran." I tried very hard to sound stern and unforgiving but couldn't help grinning foolishly. Somehow I was glad to see that murderous bastard made it through the Joining. I still hadn't forgiven him for his betrayal, but he was a Grey Warden now. Duncan had always said whatever a man was before, when he became a Grey Warden he started a new life, leaving his past behind.

"HA! Shave my ass and call me a nug! Whatcha doing here, lad?" Oghren slapped the small of my back so hard I toppled over and would have landed in the gutter if not for Angus MacEanraig. That man was a giant. It was hard to believe he and tiny Rori were relatives. "You look worse than that walking Justice corpse."

"But our royal corpse here smells better," Zevran said merrily. "Ahh, it's a long story," he chuckled at my obvious confusion. "Alas, I doubt we have the time to tell it. We're on our own facing the worst evil that has ever walked the face of Thedas—ahh, just like the good old days!"

"YIPPIE!" I cheered. "Easy is for wimps!"

"HA! Finally you've become a man," Oghren grunted proudly. "You still don't look like one, though, with that face as naked as a nug's arse. But it's a start."

"So glad you approve, Oghren," I remarked dryly. "So, can anybody tell me what happened?" I asked, joining the other Wardens and a remarkably devastated constable. Exhaustion and hopelessness had edged sharp lines on his skin.

"I am glad that you arrived when you did, but I am afraid there is little that can be done now," the man reported to a dark-haired Warden with somewhat familiar features. "A couple of nights ago a swarm of... of gruesome creatures emerged from beneath the city. They spread pestilence and destroyed everything they touched. Then, at dawn, the other darkspawn attacked. It's too late. Amaranthine is lost."

"Oh for the love of Lady Andraste!" I snapped. Maker's Breath! All I asked for was a little bit of confidence! Really, I even would have been content with a bit more self-deceit. But all I got wherever I went was: The city is lost! We are lost! Our last hour has come! This is the end! Doom! Imagine what would have happened if I had chickened out of this whole Blight thing like that when I stood in front of Flemeth's hut! I was sick and tired of people whining about what couldn't be done and about the blasted darkspawn tearing down my kingdom when I for sure had better things to do—like stopping the blasted nobility from tearing down my kingdom instead. "I did not leave Denerim to its fate, and I will not abandon Amaranthine. We are Fereldans. We don't just back down when the going gets tough. We defeated the archdemon and ended the Fifth Blight with no more than three Grey Wardens; we certainly won't chicken out on its minions! I have come here to save Amaranthine and failure is no fucking option!"

BANG! BANG! Mrs. Couldry's wooden ladle went down on my head. "Language!"

"Ow! You ruined the effect of my speech!" I complained, rubbing my head.

"King Alistair?" the familiar looking Warden asked.

"Present," I confirmed.

"You killed my father," the man remarked, "Arl Howe."

"So let me guess: Now you want to kill me?" I sighed.

"No."

"Oh? Really? Wow. That's new."

"He deserved everything he got, Nate," Rori croaked, her voice trembling with the effort of holding back her tears.

"I know. And I am sorry, though my apology probably doesn't mean anything to you." he shrugged helplessly.

"You're damn right it doesn't," Rori hissed, tears now welling up in her eyes. She blinked them away angrily, then wiped her snotty nose at her sleeve. Grinning I offered her my handkerchief. "I know it's not your fault, Nate. You weren't even there. And I'm probably being mean, but I can't... I just can't... Maybe one day..."

Nate Howe nodded slowly. "When I returned to Ferelden, it was for revenge. But I have come to realize my father deserved to die. All I can hope for is to atone for my father's sins somehow, someday... though I don't even know where to begin."

"Saving Amaranthine would be a start," I suggested. "But we should get started at once, or there won't be anything left for us to save." I turned to the constable who had sunken to his knees to tell him to stand. "I don't say it will be easy, but we have done this sort of thing before, at Denerim." I didn't mention the siege of Denerim had been an act of raw despair and that we hadn't had the slightest idea how to win that fight. We had just run in and hoped beyond hope that we somehow would get out of it alive and still kicking.

"Yes, your Majesty," the constable answered and indeed there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Straightening his shoulders and throwing off the weariness that had weighed him down, he shouted orders at his remaining men, and we hastily began to develop a plan. Nobody even mentioned abandoning the city anymore. And then it all poofed! when a single, remarkably ugly Hurlock in remarkably impressive armor approached. I had seen darkspawn wearing all kinds of rags and their armor hardly deserved that name. But this one, it almost seemed as if it wanted to appear... human. And surprise, surprise, it talked.

"Peace!" it called out when the constable ordered the archer to take it down. "Do not be killing me! Only talk!"

"Peace my ass," Rori muttered. My sentiments exactly.

"I don't like this," Fiona murmured. Ditto.

"Architect has a message, for Grey Warden!" the darkspawn went on when I lifted my hand to signal he was not yet to be shot.

"FUCK!" Fiona breathed. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Hm, yeah, quite an apt summary of our situation.

"Ah, our dear friend, the Architect," Zevran said merrily. On the outside, nothing about him gave the tension away. But I had known him for long enough to know the difference between merry Zevran and merry Zevran. Whatever had happened during their encounter with the so-called Architect, Zevran had a bone to pick with him. "We've had our fill of his hospitality. I daresay it's about time to return the favor."

"Aye!" Oghren droned. "Sodding bastard took us captive and fumbled around on us. Tests, he called it. Perverted nug-humper! I say let's cut the messenger's head off and send it back to the Architect bastard."

"Brilliant idea!" I grinned. "And who is going to go to bring him the head? You?"

"The blasted messenger of course!" Oghren grunted as if talking to a complete idiot. Ah, you just gotta love that dwarf.

"Fine, that's what we'll do," I laughed. "First, I want to hear that message, though." I turned to the Hurlock. "Say what you have to say, but make it snappy."

Once sure it would not be shot right away, the darkspawn approached. "The Mother's army, it marches to Vigil's Keep."

Another darkspawn army? Doom! DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! I guess it was time now to run in circles, pull our hair out and scream: "We're all lost!" Unfortunately, that's not what wise and just kings do. Instead, they act cool and try to make everybody believe they have everything under control and all will be well.

"Who in the name of the Maker is the Mother?" I wondered out loud instead of starting to wail and throw myself in the dust and drum my fists on the ground. It seemed like a reasonable question. All assembled Grey Wardens shrugged. Splendid!

"I assume whatever it is, it will be extremely unpleasant," a mage with a pony tail and a cat sitting on top of his head complained sullenly.

"Undoubtedly." I agreed.

"She attacks now! The Architect, he sends me to warn you." the Hurlock went on.

"How very sweet of him," I remarked dryly. "And who, if I may ask, is responsible for attacking Amaranthine? The Architect? The Mother? The Brother perhaps? Or the Construction Manager?" Confused, the darkspawn stared at me. "It's a joke," I sighed. "It's funny. Haha, you see?"

"You are a strange man, Grey Warden," the Hurlock observed, obviously heckled. It frowned to remember its speech. "You must save the keep! Then finish the Mother in her lair!"

"Aha, and why should I do like a darkspawn tells me?" I wondered aloud.

"The Grey Wardens are valuable to the Architect," the Hurlock explained. "The Mother, she knows this!"

Okay, and that right there was the reason why I for sure wouldn't go running to Vigil's Keep. I've been regarded as a puppet so often that by now I know when someoneis trying to use and manipulate me. "Fine, so if the Architect cares so much about the Wardens and is so eager to get rid of the Mother, why doesn't he send his own army to take care of this problem, hm?"

"You don't intend to go back, Warden?" the Hurlock asked, completely lost now.

"Me? No. See this city at my back?" I nodded towards Amaranthine. "There's hordes of darkspawn here to slay. I won't let them down."

"But the keep!" Howe Jr. gasped in shock. "What about the keep?"

Of course I couldn't abandon Vigil's Keep. Not solely because of the few Wardens still there. You maybe don't know what castles are for. Yeah, they are large, expensive, and often rather cold and uncomfortable homes to nobles. But besides all that, they are also there to protect the people living close by. So when there's danger, like, let's say a huge darkspawn army approaching, the villagers flee to the safety of the castle and expect the lord of said castle to protect them. So, Vigil's Keep at this very moment was crammed with men, women, and children from the surrounding farms and villages. They were trapped there.

I also couldn't abandon the citizens of Amaranthine for the same reason. This was my kingdom, my people, and I did not want to be forced to make a choice between whose lives mattered more. So, I somehow had to save them all. But how? There was no Warden Commander and I was the only senior Warden left. I couldn't be everywhere. I had to... delegate. My eyes fell on the assembled Wardens. One looked as if he had been dead several weeks. Ugh. Then there were Oghren and Zev, Howe Jr. and the mage with the cat hat...

Suddenly I could hear Morrigan's voice sneer as loud and clear as if she were standing next to me. "Once the Wardens flourished, their ranks full, their caliber certain. Now they even accept people like them."

Yeah, well, you have to take what you can get. It didn't make my decision any easier. For a moment I was tempted to decide by a counting rhyme, then I opted for the known instead. At least I could be real sure about what I would get that way.

"Oghren, you've been promoted. Congrats! You're now Warden Commander of Ferelden." Yep, that's what raw desperation looks like.

Oghren stared at me in mere disbelief. "For the love of nugs and idiot children, you either got shit for brains or I really have to clean my ears. I think I just heard you say you want me to be Warden Commander!" He stuck a finger in his left ear and wiggled around forcefully, then regarded with utmost interest what he had dug up.

"No, really, I believe in you and your... abilities," I assured the dwarf and myself.

"Shit for brains," Oghren diagnosed. My sentiments exactly but really, did I have any better choice?

"Howe, you're second in command. This is your chance to clear the your name. Well, at least it's a start. Go to Vigil's Keep. Take all of the Wardens and half of my soldiers with you," I ordered in my best kingly voice. "The rest will stay to defend Amaranthine. Now take the messenger captive. And then let's kick some darkspawn asses!"