Well, I suppose you're going to want to hear a bit about what happened while you were out? Let old Rispy fill you in on things, then. I'll tell you exactly what all sorts of fun you missed.

You heard I won the Proving, I trust, didn't you? Yeah, that was awesome. I swear they were wanting to throw me out or try to arrest me again, but they couldn't. Being a Grey Warden is great. They kept wanting to willfully pretend that they didn't know who I was, and there I kept rubbing their faces in it. It was great.

Anyway, Scregor and me went to see Lord Harrowmont. Needless to say, he seemed pretty damned surprised to see us.

"I'm glad to see you are well, Scregor. And a Grey Warden, now, I hear?" Harrowmont said.

Scregor nodded. "I am quite grateful to the Grey Wardens for saving my life."

"That was quite some stunt you pulled at the Proving, as well," Harrowmont said. "Unfortunately, I do not believe that it has had the effect that you might have hoped for."

"What has happened?" Scregor asked.

"The Assembly is now split three ways," Harrowmont said. "They can no more agree on who should be king anymore than before. And they've become even more violent about it. Even some of my own supporters believe that you should be thrown out of the city immediately, or at least prohibited from making a claim for the throne. And others steadfastly insist upon your innocence. I fear this may have only made matters worse."

"At least Scregor is alive," I said, shrugging. "That's something, right?"

"Indeed," Harrowmont said, "and the ancestors can certainly be thanked for that. I will try to rally my supporters behind you, but there's only so much that can be done right now, especially as you are still considered a kinslayer and an exile."

"You know I did not kill Trian," Scregor said. "Neither will I kill Bhelen, no matter what he does. I refuse to stain my hands with the blood of my brothers."

"Your honor does you credit," Harrowmont says. "I will do what I can. For now, there are some things that you and your newfound allies can do yourselves to help your case. With your father's passing, the Carta has been causing no end of problems under the control of one Jarvia."

"Jarvia?" I said, making a face. "And I thought killing Beraht might put them in their place for a while."

"Beraht's death left a power vacuum, and Jarvia stepped in neatly to fill it," Harrowmont said. "They have been even more violent and bold as of late, even going so far as to shake down merchants in the commons."

"Sounds like that bitch is just asking to get shivved," I said.

"We'll take care of it," Scregor said.

As we headed back to the Grey Warden headquarters to gather up the others, however, Vartag Gavorn stepped out and stopped me, giving me this really nasty look.

"So, duster," Vartag said. "Looks like you don't really care about your precious sister after all, do you."

I stopped dead in my tracks at that, and my blood ran cold. "Vartag," I growled. "If anyone dares to harm my sister, I will skin them alive. Don't think that I won't."

"Perhaps you might," Vartag said with a shrug. "But she'd still be dead."

I grabbed a hold of his throat and pinned him against the wall. "How about I just pre-emptively kill you right here, right now?"

"You wouldn't dare," Vartag hissed.

"Do you want to bet your life on that?" I said.

"Grey Warden or no, you wouldn't get five steps without being arrested if you did that," Vartag said.

"That might be true," I said, glaring at him. "But you'd still be dead."

"I think you've made your point, Rispy," Scregor said. "You can put the blighter down now."

I glanced aside to Scregor and reluctantly lowered Vartag to the floor and released him. He rubbed his neck and glared right back at me.

"And you, kinslayer," Vartag said, turning his attention to Scregor. "You should have never showed your face back in Orzammar again. Prince Bhelen will make sure that your lies are uncovered, and he will not fall to the sort of treachery that befell Prince Trian. You will not be allowed to kill another brother."

Scregor growled and narrowed his eyes at Vartag. "Forget what I said, Rispy. You can do what you like with him."

I grinned at Vartag. "And do you really think I would be foolish enough to actually do anything to you in the middle of the Diamond Quarter? I'm not one of your idiot thugs that's been attacking us in the streets!"

Vartag snorted in disgust. "I knew you wouldn't have the stones to dare touch me, brand."

"There are more ways to kill someone than gutting them in the streets," I pointed out. "And more ways to make someone regret their actions than merely be killing them. I suggest you protect my family, with your life if need be. Because if I hear word that any harm whatsoever has befallen my sister, my mother, or my little nephew, even if you weren't provably responsible... then I will make sure that your family is ruined, and not a one of them will ever dare show their faces in Orzammar again, and after you have watched your family's fortunes crumble into the dust, then, only then, will I allow you to die."

Vartag looked increasingly nervous, and finally said, "You- You're bluffing. There's no way a damned duster like you could pull something like that off."

I gave him a bitter grin. "Do you really want to stake your family's lives and futures on that bet?"

Vartag didn't respond, and just scrambled back into the Assembly Hall like a spooked nug.

Scregor laughed aloud once he'd gone, and said, "You know, duster, I think I'm starting to like you."

I don't like to trust my family's safety to the goodwill of scum like Vartag, but there wasn't anything else I could do about it. We did try to get into the royal palace, but were turned away at the gates. Scregor just scowled at that, but didn't even bother saying anything.

Back at headquarters, we met up with the others and told them the plan. "Clearing out the Carta will make it clear that Scregor can do the job of protecting the city and will a do a fair bit to make him look good in the eyes of the people," I told them. "Also, that bitch Jarvia just plain deserves to die."

"What did she do to you, anyway?" Alistair wondered.

"Not so much what she did herself, but who she was associated with," I explained. "She was sleeping with Beraht, and now she's cheerfully following in his footsteps. After the way Beraht used and abused me and the other dusters under him while I was around, I can't imagine she's any better. Actually, from the sounds of things, she's even worse."

I headed out of headquarters along with everyone but Sten, who was still hanging out with you doing whatever it was he was doing. Telling you about the Qun? Sounds good to me. I'd much rather have been a Qunari than have been born in Dust Town.

Along the way, we come upon a group of thugs who appear to be threatening a merchant. "Wesley, Aveline, Wynne, can you take care of that?"

The rest of us continue on to Dust Town without delay. I don't know why I wanted to get down there and get this over with so quickly. Maybe I was just still nervous about Rica and itching to let out my frustration on stabbing something.

Along the way, Leliana spotted a dwarf in Chantry robes, of all things, and said, "Oh, I haven't met many dwarves who believe in the Maker before." She proceeded to wander off to go talk to him, and I didn't bother calling her back. I just rolled my eyes a bit and walked on. I don't care much about religion, myself, whether it's the Maker or the dwarven ancestors or what.

Once we were down in Dust Town, Zevran indicated a man and said quietly, "Say, you don't suppose that's the thief that that fellow in the Shaperate mentioned?"

The man, bald with a large tattoo covering much of his face, notices our attention. "And who do you think you are? There's only one or maybe two of your lot that looks like they have any business in Dust Town."

"Do you know anything about a book that was stolen from the Shaperate?" I asked.

"What do you care, duster?" the man said. "You're too late, anyway. I don't have it anymore. Already passed it along to a buyer."

"Zevran, Morrigan, would you deal with this?" I ask. "Best to not be storming the Carta headquarters with an army as it is."

By that point, it was just down to me, Scregor, Alistair, Tom, and the dog. You might have fun leading a small army around, but I much prefer a smaller, more manageable team. I was surprised that Scregor was so readily accepting my lead, however. I think he was still not quite back to full speed, but didn't really want to admit it.

Not far from my old house, I spotted a familiar face, a dwarf woman huddling next to a fire. She looked a lot more filthy and haggard since our days in the Carta together, however. "Nadezda!" I said, going up to her.

"Well, if it isn't our very own home-grown Grey Warden," Nadezda replied, not getting up to greet me. "Life's certainly been treating you better than it has me. Got some coin to spare for an old friend?"

"Nadezda, what happened to you?" I asked, crouching down next to her.

"It wasn't long after you disappeared, and Jarvia took over the place," Nadezda said. "I got caught, and dared to make a stand. The blighters broke my knees, and made me kneel in dung till infection set in."

"Fuck," I muttered. "Tom, can you take a look at this? Is there anything you can still do for her?"

"Hmm," Tom said, squatting down beside her and examining her closely. He pulled a potion out of his bag and handed it to her, along with some bread, dried fruit and jerky. "Here, this should help a bit. Let me get some healing magic going here. This is an old wound, but I might still be able to do something about it."

Nadezda drank down the potion and nibbled on the fruit as if it were the highest royal banquet. "I'm mighty grateful to you, salroka," Nadezda said. "Even if you can't help me, I'm thankful that I'll be able to go to sleep with a full stomach, at least."

"There, that's the best I can do for now," Tom said. "We can have Wynne take a closer look at it later, but at least you'll be able to walk again. It'll be painful and you should still take it easy, though."

Nadezda experimentally climbed to her feet, wincing a little, but still smiling. "Ah, salroka, you've done me a world of good, regardless."

"Nadezda, we're about to make a hit on the Carta," I said. "We're going to take down Jarvia."

"I wish you luck with that," Nadezda said. "Jarvia's got the place locked down tight. After what you pulled with Beraht, she got real paranoid. Now she's got these tokens made of fingerbones, marked with a symbol. You'll need one of those to get in."

"Thanks for the information," I say. "Nadezda, you should get out of here before all this shit goes down. We left a friend of ours just outside the entrance to Dust Town, a red-haired human woman, talking to a dwarf man in surfacer robes. If she's still there, tell her I sent you, and ask her to take you back to our headquarters. You'll be safe there for now."

Nadezda nodded, finishing up the bits of food we'd given her, and said, "Many thanks. I won't question my change of fortune. Give Jarvia what's coming to her, salroka." She heads off toward the entrance to Dust Town.

"Now to just get one of these fingerbone tokens and find out where to use it," I muttered.

I headed over toward my old house, out of curiosity. I doubted that Rica and my mother had left anything there when they moved into the royal palace, but it couldn't hurt to take a look, anyway.

As it turned out, there was a handful of Carta thugs holed up in the house. "Well, look at this," one of them said. "The uppity duster's come home. Why don't we give him a warm welcome?"

"Do you want to die that badly?" I asked as we beat the shit out of them.

"Whoa! By the ancestors! Mercy! Mercy!" said the sole survivor after we'd slaughtered his companions. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"I've always been able to fight like that," I told him. "Or did my reputation as the Carta's best fighter and winning two Provings not give you the clue?"

"One might say that attacking us was not the brightest move you could have made," Tom drawled.

"Look, just take whatever we had on us and let me go, please!"

I step up toward him and stand over him, pointing my blade at his throat. "Tell me where to find Jarvia. Do you have one of those fingerbone tokens?"

"Yes! Yes, please, take it and let me go!" He pulls it out and quickly hands it to me, and I take the thing.

"Where do I use this?"

"The third door down on the block across from this. Just slip it through the slot there and you can get in."

I gave him a nod. "Very well." I stepped back and put my sword away. "But if you're lying or this is a trap, I will find you and make you regret it. Got it?"

"Quite clearly! So you'll let me go?" He looks at me hopefully.

"Go," I said. "And you're going to want to be as far away from here as you can get shortly."

"Understood!" He ran out of there as quickly as he could.

"Enjoying intimidating people?" Scregor said with a grin.

"Oh, yes," I said, turning to head out to find the door the thug mentioned.

After slipping the fingerbone through and gaining admittance, we came upon a group of thugs guarding the doorway.

"What's the password?"

You'll note that nobody we'd talked to mentioned that there was a password as well. No matter. Everyone in here was soon to be dead, or fleeing for their lives if they were smart.

"This is my password," I said, grinning at him and holding up my sword.

"A wise guy, huh? Get 'em, boys!"

After dispatching the door guards without much fuss and starting down into the hideout, Scregor says to me, "Where does a duster learn to fight like that, anyway? Did you get training on the surface?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Like I told those other thugs, I've always been able to fight like that."

"Just comes naturally?" Scregor chuckled. "You should have been born Warrior Caste. Maybe some of your ancestors were, before whatever they did to get them and their descendants branded."

"No idea," I said with a shrug. "Does it matter? I was born to fight. People should be able to do what they're good at, regardless of happenstance of birth."

"There was a time, not so very long ago, when I might have disagreed with you," Scregor said. "But then, not so very long ago, I wouldn't be caught dead even talking to you, never mind fighting beside you."

"You're not just fighting beside him," Tom pointed out. "You're following him." He chuckled. "Two princes, following and taking orders from a low-born nobody? The irony is not lost on me."

"Hey, I'm a bastard," Alistair said.

"A bastard?" Scregor asked.

"Right, you weren't yet here when that came out," Alistair said. "Well, my mother was a serving girl, and my father was King Maric."

"Ah, I see, a noble hunter's kid, then," Scregor said, nodding.

"What's a noble hunter?" Alistair said in confusion. "That makes it sound so... I don't know."

"Noble hunters, lower caste women who try to get themselves stuffed up with a noble's kid," Scregor said. "And hope they're lucky enough that it's a boy. That's their ticket out of the slums, as their whole family gets moved up to the Diamond Quarter then."

"Scregor, I don't think things work on the surface quite like they do down here," I told him.

"No?" Scregor said. "I can't see what noble family would be crazy enough to refuse another child to their house."

"Yeah, things... don't work like that on the surface," Alistair said. "And I don't exactly want to be king, either."

Scregor grunted. "For all that I was the favorite, neither did I, really. I was always expecting Trian to become king... I'd rather fight, not play in politics. But I will not shirk at my duty, nor leave Orzammar to the hands of my scheming little brother."

"If you didn't really want to be king, wouldn't Harrowmont have made a decent enough king instead, then?" Alistair asked.

Scregor shrugged. "Maybe. But he's also old, and very... traditional. Me, I was pushing at changing things a bit. Letting surfacers retain their castes. Maybe even giving opportunities for casteless so that they didn't have to resort to being beggars and criminals."

"Maybe even?" I repeated.

"That was before this whole exile business," Scregor amended. "That was a pretty controversial opinion for a prince. Now, though?" He charged in to decapitate another thug. "I'm starting to think it's the only sane and reasonable opinion."

Yeah, we were casually chatting while slaughtering our way through the Carta. None of them were exactly much of a match for us. There were some hired surfacer mercenaries. A couple elven mages that Alistair dealt with using his templar powers. Even a handful of kossith, of all things. I have no idea what they were even doing there.

And then, deep within the hideout, in the very room where I killed Beraht, we came upon Jarvia, along with several of her lackeys. And standing at her side, there's Leske, standing there staring at me as if looking like he'd rather be taking a magma bath.

"Well, well, look who's come crawling back," Jarvia said. "You've been stirring up quite a bit of trouble for yourself, haven't you. Your old buddy Leske here agrees. Don't you, Leske?"

"Leske?" I said. "What are you doing here?"

"You know what it's like, Rispy," Leske said. "When you ran off to the surface, I did what I had to do. Jarvia would have skinned me if I'd tried to defy her. You know I'm not half as good as you are."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "As a friend of mine is always fond of saying... there are always choices. You've made yours. And this is mine." I gesture to my friends. "Kill them, but do not harm Leske."

I charged in to engage Jarvia. She was one tough bitch, and she had several of the Carta's best assassins backing her up, and they fought dirty. They had traps set up around the room as well, making me wonder just how they managed to get around their own headquarters without setting them off. Maybe they realized we were coming? However, as good as they were, we're better, and Jarvia and her assassins went down.

Tom tried to stun Leske or put him to sleep, but he couldn't get through the dwarven magic resistance. Finally, Alistair wound up hitting Leske over the head with his shield, knocking him out.

"This is taking some liberties with 'don't harm him'," I commented.

"He's still alive," Alistair said as Tom went over to heal Leske. "That's preferable to the alternative. I wouldn't complain."

Leske groaned a little and rubbed his head as he came to. "By the Paragons," he muttered as he looked to the corpses of the other Carta members. "You weren't kidding, salroka."

"Shouldn't have tried to fight me," I said. "You'd have less of a headache now if you'd just stayed out of it."

"I really should know better than to underestimate you, shouldn't I," Leske said. "And you took her down just like you did Beraht. I guess I've got to thank you for undeserved mercy. I owe you my life twice over now."

I laughed. "Maybe you'll get it into your thick skull by this point. Come on, let's get out of here."

"So, Rispy, who're your new friends?" Leske asked as we headed out, now that Tom was finished healing us and looting the bodies.

"Well, most importantly, there's Padfoot," I said, pointing to the dog with a grin. "Thomas Hawke, a mage. Alistair, templar and prince. And I believe you're familiar with the name Scregor Aeducan."

Leske stared at me disbelievingly, then looked to the others and saw that they weren't contradicting me. "You've certainly gone up in the world, salroka."

"I wish he wouldn't introduce me like that," Alistair muttered.

We came out of the exit tunnel into the building that had been the Carta shop. However, by the looks of things, it's now under new ownership, as the merchant there was quite surprised to see us come out from the hidden door behind the shelves. He very nearly jumped straight out of his beard.

"You... Where did you come from? There's a hole in my wall!"

"I guess the Carta doesn't run this shop anymore," I said.

"What? The Carta? I don't want any trouble with Jarvia!"

"Relax, she's dead," I assured him.

"As is everyone else down there," Scregor added.

"So long as we're conveniently here," Tom said, bringing out his bag of holding, "can we do some business? I've got a bunch of stuff looted from a lot of Carta thugs who don't need it anymore that I'd like to sell."

The merchant sighed, and said, "Alright, alright. Welcome to Janar Family Armory. Could some of you at least do me a favor and move the shelf back over the hole? I'll have to fix that later. I don't want anyone to think I had anything to do with the Carta."

Tom starts pulling out stuff from his bag, not even bothering to try to hide the fact that it contains far more than a small pouch really should. "Janar? Did you happen to have a daughter named Dagna, by chance, who wanted to study magic?"

"Ugh," Janar said. "Yes, and sadly now she's run off to the surface and forfeited her caste. Did you encourage her? Do you have any idea what you've done? Now she'll never be able to work in Orzammar again, or get married here, or..."

"Relax, my good merchant," Scregor said. "When I am king, I will make certain to push through reform to allow dwarves who choose to go to the surface to retain their ties to house and caste if they so wish."

"When you are..." Janar said as Scregor took off his helmet. "My- My Lord Aeducan! Forgive me, I did not realize it was you. You really intend to do that? If this is true, then you certainly have my full support."

Tom finished up his business, and the rest of us moved the shelf back into place over the secret door. With that, we headed back out onto the commons and up toward the Diamond Quarter to the Grey Warden headquarters to regroup with the others. While we were down there, it appeared that the others had completed their own tasks. The book got returned to the Shaperate, the brother got authorization for his new Chantry, and Nadezda was sitting in the main room of the tent as Wynne worked on her.

"How are you feeling, Nadezda?" I asked.

"Much better," Nadezda said. "Thank you again. Maybe I'd better stop thanking you, since it feels like I'm thanking you every other word I say. But I really can't think you enough."

I chuckled and put my hand on her shoulder. "Just you wait. Everything's going to change, soon. They won't spit on us and leave us in the dust forever. I'll make sure of that."

"You really believe that?" Nadezda said. "You think that's possible? The way you say it, you almost make me believe it's possible."

Once we'd rested a bit and eaten, Scregor and me headed back to Harrowmont's estate to discuss where things might be going from here. Leske opted to take his chances heading back to Dust Town, although not before happily eating his fill of our food.

"You've done very well," Harrowmont said. "But I fear that it will not be enough."

"It's never enough," I commented.

"Bhelen's playing dirty," Harrowmont said. "He's trying to force the issue, and is spreading around no amount of lies, blackmail, and bribery to get what he wants."

Scregor sighed and put his face in his hands. "Oh, my brother, why do you do this..."

"He wants power," I said. "That much is pretty clear. The real question is, how long has he been plotting this all, with none the wiser?"

"Years, probably," Scregor said. "I certainly didn't see it coming. He was always the quiet one, so polite and diplomatic."

"There is one thing that just might be able to secure the throne and keep it out of Bhelen's hands," Harrowmont said. "If the Paragon Branka were to return and endorse a candidate, the Assembly would be honor-bound to accede to her wishes."

"And nugs might fly," I said.

"Even if Branka is still alive, we'd have no idea where to even start looking for her," Scregor said.

"I've had people looking into that, actually," Harrowmont said. "We've been able to trace the path of her expedition to Caridin's Cross. I can give you the maps to be able to find it, and from there you may be able to learn what she sought in the depths and track her down. Even if she's dead, finding remains to return to the Stone would do much in your favor in the eyes of the Assembly."

"All I know is that she was off looking for 'ancient secrets'," Scregor said. "Something more concrete like that might help... actually, failing all else, we might just be able to find whatever she was looking for."

I nodded. "This is all pretty far-fetched, but if there's ancient secrets to be found, my friends are sure to be interested. However, Lexen might just kill me if I tell him that we're dragging him into the Deep Roads for an extended expedition."

Yeah, consider this my way of breaking it to you nicely. But do feel free to stay behind. I'm sure Tom would be perfectly happy if you decided to sit it out and rest instead. No? Didn't think so. You've always got to be in the middle of everything.

Scregor chuckled. "To be honest, we'd probably be just as safe down in the Deep Roads as we are here, given Bhelen's propensity toward trying to kill me. At least you know what to expect, with darkspawn."

With that, we headed back to headquarters to make preparations, do some last minute shopping for gathering provisions and some new equipment, and to make sure that Nadezda would be alright while we were gone.

So, yeah. We're leaving in the morning. Best get some rest, or Tom will kill me for keeping you up all night.