Chapter Twenty-Eight: Decision Time
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.
The ominous thud of the gate they had just walked through was more than enough to let Aunn know that they weren't alone. She couldn't sense any darkspawn in the immediate area, however, and presumably the Thaig crawlers and deep stalkers weren't able to operate the ancient mechanisms. Golems might be able to but it was a little hard to miss creatures even Shale's size, let alone the size that most golems were.
She stopped and waited for whoever was there to reveal themselves. Gates didn't just close on their own, after all, no matter what the stories said. She didn't have long to wait before someone appeared on a ledge up above them. Even from where Aunn was standing, she could tell that the armor the woman – well, probably a woman as she(?) was so dirty it was hard to tell – was wearing was far beyond most of the pieces she had ever seen. Her nose was huge and, to Aunn with her nose-complex, was enough to stop her from ever being considered pretty no matter how she would have looked without all the grime. She had a grim expression and her hair was carelessly tied back in at least two messy ponytails that Aunn could see. She looked vaguely familiar. Could this possibly be…?
"Branka!" Oghren exclaimed, confirming Aunn's suspicions. He sounded happier than Aunn had ever heard him and she felt a strange pity for him. This woman – their Paragon – had left him for two years and had taken up with his cousin. Did he really expect a happy reunion? At least he got a reunion although it probably wouldn't provide him the closure he was seeking, if, indeed, closure was all that he was seeking.
"Why am I not surprised that you came all the way down to the Deep Trenches, which have been lost to the darkspawn for generations, just to find me?" Branka asked disdainfully. Unlike with Hespith, her voice sounded just fine. Who was she talking to down here? Herself? Was someone else here? This really wasn't all that far from where she had left the Legion. It was a wonder they had never stumbled across her. Then again, they were bigger on holding the line than in pushing forward and, given that their goal was to fight darkspawn and not go on a search mission, she couldn't blame them. "I would have thought that forcing you to stay behind when I took everyone else with me into the Deep Roads would have been a hint too large for even the likes of you to ignore."
Oghren shrugged, not really bothered by her harsh words. "What can I say? I'm kind of slow on the uptake sometimes."
"Believe me, I noticed," Branka said wryly. "And whose little expedition were you finally allowed to trail along on?" She looked them over. "Oh, what is this? Unless I'm very much mistaken, I do believe that Endrin's little girl is leading up a team of Surfacers. Will wonders never cease? I suppose that something serious must have happened? Is your father dead, girl? He was on the old and wheezy side when I left."
One would really think that a Paragon – an example of everything a dwarf could be – could stand to be a bit more polite but Branka had been like that since the first time Aunn had encountered her. As a smith, she hadn't received the schooling in manners that all nobles did and as a Paragon it didn't really matter how she treated people as she was above them all but it was still a little…unpleasant. Still, after two years in the Deep Roads and whatever had gone down that had led to the rest of her house being captured by darkspawn while leaving her untouched, it really was best not to call Branka on the fact that she had called her 'girl', spoken so flippantly of the king's death, and referred to him as 'old and wheezy' for all that it was true.
"My father is dead," Aunn confirmed. "And the Assembly is deadlocked. The election has been raging for weeks now and a Blight is going on. We need you."
"By 'we' you really mean that you need me, don't you?" Branka asked craftily. "Or am I to believe that the favored daughter of Endrin would come all the way down here to put a brother on the throne? You wish to become a ruling queen and you need me to do it."
If things were different, that might very well have been the case. It wasn't surprising that Branka thought that, really. If one saw someone they knew to be a princess standing before them and talking about how Orzammar needed a new ruler then what were they going to think? That she'd been exiled but refused to die and joined the Grey Wardens at the beginning of a Blight and she'd returned to pick a king to send troops to deal with said Blight…or that she wanted the throne herself. Bhelen and his followers would never accept her as a ruler, especially as she was still exiled. Harrowmont might, actually, but it wouldn't matter as she simply couldn't stay. There was a Blight to deal with, after all, and she had a duty to do. "Something like that."
"The Assembly could put Oghren on the throne for all I care," Branka said arrogantly. "It's just another empty head and large ass sitting on a meaningless throne. What's really important is the Anvil. It is absurd and insulting that our greatest weapon against the darkspawn, the only chance we really have against them, is lost to time! It's hidden behind the darkspawn lines and the golems and traps keep trying to keep me out!"
"So you found the Anvil?" Aunn asked, surprised to say the least. The Anvil might not be able to crown a king but it would certainly change everything. "How can you be sure? Have you seen it?"
"Not quite," Branka admitted. "But I don't have to. It's calling out to me…" she trailed off, looking distant. That was…worrying. "Caridin himself built the traps before you and I've seen evidence of several golems that lay beyond the traps. I've gotten past some of them but I've run out of people to test the traps on. What else could lie beyond these traps but the Anvil itself?"
"Are you…" Aunn couldn't believe it. Hespith had warned them but it was one thing to hear it from her and another to hear it from the Paragon Branka herself. "Are you telling me that you led your house into traps and allowed them to die so you could try to get close to the Anvil? That you let the women be taken by darkspawn and twisted so that the darkspawn that came from them could provide more bodies to throw at the traps?"
"And what if I am?" Branka asked dismissively. "It was House Branka. I am Branka. They were mine to do with as I wished. They had pledged their loyalty to me and yet they came to me on their hands and knees and begged me to let them die! Hespith claimed to love and serve me and yet she left like all the rest. She swore she'd do what it took but in the end she tried to make me choose. She didn't understand. Nothing and no one matters more than the Anvil. It will be our salvation and if they all had to die for me to achieve it then so be it. If all of you have to die to achieve it then it will be just as well."
Branka had no hesitation. Since she had already committed to destroying her house in the name of reaching the Anvil that was to be expected. Still, that level of ruthlessness…she wondered suddenly what Bhelen would make of all of this. She wondered if she'd ever get a chance to ask him. "You're asking us to find our way through Caridin's traps."
"You catch on quickly," Branka said, sounding almost amused. "Yes, that's exactly it. If you want my support in your precious little election, you'll do as I say. In fact, with the door sealed and no way to open it except from up here, if you want to even live you'll do as I say. Fight your way through Caridin's maze or die trying. One way or another, I will have my Anvil." With that, she disappeared from sight.
"You wanted this woman back?" Morrigan couldn't believe it.
"Yes, well, she used to be much less obvious about the crazy," Oghren replied gruffly, clearly trying not to . "And cleaner, too. What has this place done to her?"
"Oghren…" Aunn said cautiously. "Branka is clearly unstable. We'll fight through Caridin's traps because we have to but who knows what we'll find there? We may not be able to reach her."
Oghren was silent for a moment. "I know."
Aunn had to wonder what kind of traps Branka had lost her house to. It seemed counterintuitive to put the more difficult traps first and thus leaving those capable of getting past them with challenges that were even easier to bypass. Perhaps if it were a question of endurance and Caridin had hoped that once the bigger obstacles were dealt with, the weakened dwarves or darkspawn would fall to simpler traps. Still, it would have made more sense to make the progressive traps harder just in case.
Now, Aunn really had no reason to believe that the traps Branka had claimed to have already disabled were harder than the ones that she had her companions were left to deal with except that Branka had lost a few hundred people and these traps were more inconveniencing than really threatening. It would make sense for Branka not to be able to bypass them as she was alone and not trained as a warrior – though she had to have learned at least something about defending herself in the years spent in the Deep Roads.
So much else wasn't adding up, however. There had been darkspawn to face that weren't actually a part of Caridin's traps but then there had just been two puzzles. The first trap was rather straightforward. There were golems trying to kill them that they had to kill first in a room of slow-acting poison that could be turned off by flipping a couple switches on the wall. Again, this was a really obvious way to beat the system. Why had Caridin designed it thus? To give himself an out if he ever became caught in his own traps? Still, one would think that it would be just a little harder to figure out.
The second obstacle had been a little trickier than that. There was a giant stone head with four faces. Each face spit fire out and mysterious shades came from the faces. Four anvils were located around the faces and could, for whatever reason, fire a sort of energy after they began to glow, which happened whenever one of the shades was defeated. Aunn had absolutely no idea how this trap worked but she really didn't need to in order to destroy the statue. In hindsight, the placement of the anvils with the power to destroy the statue so close to the stone faces was a rather fatal design flaw.
And that was exactly what was so bizarre about the fate of Branka's house. Now, using the members of her house to test traps and giving them over to darkspawn to twist enough so that they could create more bodies to throw at the traps was never going to be a moral thing to do. This, however, didn't even seem to be a practical thing to do or, sod it, a sane course of action. If Branka had thrown an infinite number of people at the traps, it still wouldn't have been very useful. There was nothing to figure out on the golem trap since defeating golems was more about skill than numbers. A golem was capable of taking on an ogre and ogres were known to be able to wipe out entire squadrons of men. Skilled warriors were needed and not simply many mediocre ones. And it didn't look like the statue would have run out of the shades it created and so a modicum of cunning was required. Aunn knew that she could get extremely entitled at times but when things like this happened and she and a handful of others managed to achieve in less than an hour what the entirety of House Branka hadn't managed in two years then she really wondered how could she possibly not.
Walking through the door in front of her, Aunn came upon a huge open area surrounded on all sides by lava. A large anvil was clearly visible on a ledge close to the lava. What this the Anvil of the Void? She supposed that she of all people shouldn't be so surprised that the Deep Roads hadn't swallowed up something quite as permanently as had been thought. There were easily a dozen golems standing around. It was hard to tell if they were dormant or not as they weren't moving. These golems were much larger than Shale, of course, and lacked her crystals. One golem was clearly active, however, and walked right up to them. He seemed larger than the rest and crafted differently.
"You are not Branka," he began. "For that I am glad. I have watched your progress through my traps and was most impressed. Who are you?"
"My name is Aunn," Aunn replied. "Who are you?"
"My name is Caridin," Caridin answered. "Once, far longer ago than I care to admit, I was a Paragon in Orzammar."
Aunn started. Not only was Branka here – and crazy – but Caridin as well? And he was a golem? How had that happened? Could she believe him? There was really no way that she could ever be sure. Shale's Thaig had hinted that golems were dwarves once but why would Caridin become a golem? Even if this golem claiming Caridin's identity knew how to operate or even to recreate the Anvil of the Void that wouldn't be conclusive.
"Caridin?" Shale repeated, sounding no less stunned than Aunn herself was. "The Paragon smith? You created me. Is it true that I was once…a dwarf? A dwarven woman even?"
"Shayle of House Cadash, I would recognize your voice anywhere," Caridin said, sounding fond. "Of course you were. Do you really not remember? I suppose that isn't too surprising. It's been centuries, after all."
"My memory has recently been lost and I remember very little of even my life as a golem and certainly nothing before. Can you…" Shale trailed off, a little embarrassed. "Can you tell me about myself?"
"You were the finest warrior to ever serve King Valtor and the only woman to volunteer for the process," Caridin recounted proudly. "You lost your husband to the darkspawn. He gave his life to save yours and though you would never discuss the details, the incident made such a profound mark on you that you were determined to do your part to crush them and you did. You were one of the most loyal people I ever had the pleasure to know and by the end you were one of the few that I could truly call 'friend.' You shed your mortal coil in this very room, as it happens."
"I don't remember any of this…" Shale said again, clearly not sure how she should be reacting. For her part, Aunn was pleased that she'd been right all along about Shale being female. "We're here for the Anvil," she said, clearly done discussing her past.
"The Anvil…my greatest triumph and greatest source of shame," Caridin said mournfully. "I can understand why you would seek it but I have a story to share before you decide anything. If you don't listen then you'll be doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past."
"We don't need a sodding history lesson," Oghren argued. "We need to get the Anvil so we can reason with Branka."
"We disabled the traps but Branka hasn't followed us in yet," Aunn pointed out calmly. "And the Anvil isn't going anywhere. I think we have time."
"Thank you," Caridin said, bowing his head slightly. "I made many wondrous things in my time, some of which I suspect are still in use but the single most notable achievement was my Anvil of the Void. No one has been able to recreate it, no matter how skilled, because I never wrote down how I did it. Only my apprentices and I knew and once they died and I became a golem there was no one to share the information."
"I confess, I am a little curious as to how you can take a living breathing dwarf and turn it into a nigh-immortal golem," Zevran spoke up.
"It was…horrible. I was so caught up in my fervor and convinced that I was saving Orzammar that I tried not to think about the price. In truth, I didn't even fully understand it until it was me on the Anvil. No one can create life where none exists. It was an exchange, of sorts. The volunteers gave up their mortal bodies in exchange for a new one made of steel and stone," Caridin explained. "Fade spirits were considered at first but they were far too volatile and difficult to control so we quickly abandoned that line of thought."
"Fade spirits are not to be trusted," Sten opined. "And it is foolish to try to control them."
"Aside from the necessity of having a dwarven soul power it – or a soul of any creature, really, but obviously dwarven souls were the ones most readily at hand – it added to the usefulness of the golem as well. They were as flexible and clever as any soldier in addition to their physical power. The control rods forced them to obey commands but didn't require manual control which was far more efficient and allowed the skills of the former dwarf to shine through. As an army, they seemed near invincible," Caridin recounted.
"I do not see what's so terrible about your story," Morrigan announced. "You needed power and so you created it. You even said that you used volunteers."
"I might see it," Aunn said quietly. "You haven't told us how you created the golems."
"Well spotted," Caridin told her grimly. "It all began with volunteers. It was mostly the younger sons of warrior caste families who had little prospects for marriage and who wanted to do their part to protect Orzammar. Some others that were especially devoted to fighting the darkspawn such as Shayle here. No one ever asked to speak to those who had already been turned which was probably for the best. They came to me naked and I placed them into the huge suits of armor that you can see the golems are crafted out of now. I had to strap them down and pour molten lyrium into every orifice. They weren't able to scream for long but those few seconds were…difficult to handle. I had to ignore that and the smell of blood in order to work while the lyrium was still malleable. The dwarves-turned-golem soon became animated under my hammer and tongs and were still clearly in pain but I couldn't let that distract me either or I'd risk making a mistake and rendering the golem useless. I figured that, despite the pain, once they had endured so much already it was better that they feel a little more pain in order to avoid being broken and crippled. I really thought it was worth it."
"You sound rather negative about the whole procedure," Zevran pointed out. "How is it that you became a golem yourself if you weren't a warrior and knew better than anyone what that would mean?"
"As I said, it was initially just volunteers," Caridin explained. "The process of creating golems is horrific but as long as these were consenting adults who knew at least a little of what they were getting themselves into, I judged that it was worth it. But that didn't last. There weren't enough to satisfy Valtor. I don't know if he ever would have been satisfied. A river of blood flowed from this place and casteless, criminals, and even just his political opponents joined the ranks of the golems. He was a tyrant, a madman! He was my king but finally, enough was enough. I refused to continue making golems and so Valtor…Valtor had me put on the Anvil next."
"What?" Aunn burst out. "He FORCED that on you? But-but you're a Paragon!"
"Ah, but what should that mean to one such as Valtor?" Caridin asked rhetorically. "There would probably have been riots had people known so he made sure to keep that his little secret."
"It should have meant a great deal," Aunn said firmly. "Paragons are supposed to be as close to the Ancestors as the living can get! They are not to be so casually disregarded because they don't agree with you!"
Caridin was quiet for a long moment. "Your sincerity does your credit, Aunn, though not everyone holds your conviction. Valtor didn't and he was not about to brook any dissention. He had my apprentices turn me into a golem. They were the only ones who could. They knew enough to succeed in transforming me but I hadn't taught them everything and they didn't know how to craft a control rod. I killed them the moment the procedure was done, of course, and then no one knew how to operate the Anvil. I…I didn't really understand what it was to become a golem until it happened to me. That should happen to no one no matter what they've done or if they think it's what they want."
"Who are you to decide that the pain – no matter how severe – means that they don't know what they want?" Morrigan challenged. "Not everyone holds your priorities, I'm sure."
"Maybe not," Caridin agreed. "But even still, I watched my work enslave hundreds once and I will not just stand back and watch it do the same again. Even if Branka does not intend to force anyone, even if she never does, even if those she teaches never do…if the Anvil is around long enough then sooner or later it will be used in that manner. It is inevitable, dwarven nature being what it is."
"If that's how you feel about it then why haven't you destroyed the Anvil?" Shale wondered.
"I would if I could," Caridin said ruefully. "As it happens, my need to keep the Anvil away from those who would eventually lead to its misuse again is the only reason that I haven't ended my own existence already. Golems cannot touch the Anvil. If I want it to be destroyed then I'm going to need you to do it for me."
"Don't listen to him!" Branka cried out, sounding noticeably less sane and lucid than Caridin, as she charged into the room as well. "The Anvil is mine. I will not let you take it from me!"
Caridin turned to Shale. "Shayle…" he said pleadingly. "You fought to destroy the Anvil once. Do not let it fall into this madwoman's hands now!"
"You say that I fought with you," Shale said slowly. "You speak of things that I do not recall. Why did I fight with you? Did you use my control rod to command you to do so?"
"Your control rod…Shale, the attempt to destroy the Anvil – when we killed anyone who approached and found out that we couldn't touch it – was right after I had become a golem myself. I destroyed all of the control rods. If someone else created one and forced you to do their bidding then I am truly sorry," Caridin apologized. "You know what it is to be enslaved in such a manner. Don't let it happen to anyone else!"
"My control rod recently broke," Shale informed him. "But I can remember enough to know that there is truth in what you say."
"And what about you?" Caridin asked, glancing back at Aunn. "Will you help me prevent the Anvil from being used to enslave countless others? How would you feel to know that you had been torn from all the spirits that had come before you, that you would never rest with the Ancestors?"
Technically, as an exile that was already her fate. And she hated it. She couldn't even really think about it for very long without wanting to kill something. Fortunately, there was never a lack of beings in need of killing. "If I destroy the Anvil then Branka won't agree to endorse a candidate for king and then I won't be able to break the stalemate," Aunn said in response. "Then my coming here will have been absolutely pointless as she couldn't have made it through those traps alone."
"She is a Paragon, yes? That's why you need her?" Caridin asked. "I'm a Paragon, too. Side with me and I will forge you a crown for the new king so well-crafted that they'll have to believe it's of Paragon make. I won't even care who you give it to."
"Don't listen to him!" Branka shouted. "This golem's been trapped here for a millennia, stewing in its own madness! Help me claim the Anvil and I'll create an army like you've never seen! Think of what having golems would mean during this Blight you mentioned! And even past that. You've been in the Deep Roads for long enough to get here. Every step you took from the gates of Orzammar to here was another reminder of how far we've fallen!"
"Branka, you mad, bleeding nug-tail!" Oghren cried out, exasperated. "Does this thing mean so much to you that you can't even see what you've done to get it?"
"Yes," Branka said bluntly. "It does. I would sacrifice a lot more to save Orzammar. Every step from Orzammar to hear was a step through a crumbling tunnel filled with darkspawn corruption! Just entering here and not being allowed to leave is considered a death sentence! The Anvil will let us take back our glory! The Anvil will save us all!"
Aunn wasn't sure what to do. They both made excellent points. The Deep Roads was one never-ending reminder of what they had lost, what they might never gain again. The Anvil could help them gain that. She had been sealed in here once and she would died – or worse – if she hadn't been fortunate enough to stumble upon the Wardens who she really wasn't nearly grateful enough towards. Everyone always said that golems were the last, best defense against the darkspawn and those locked up by the Shaperate were only brought out when things were at their most dire. Aunn had seen a few before but they hadn't been sent into battle during her lifetime. Even though they had been well taken care of, it had still been over a thousand years. Whereas once golems were so common they were sold in large quantities to the Tevinter Imperium, now they were more precious than the lyrium apparently used in their creation. Not to mention that while some people would doubt that Branka was still alive without actually seeing her (and good luck prying her away from her precious Anvil), it was far more plausible that she had survived two years in the Deep Roads than Caridin had survived a thousand.
But. But the story of how they were created terrified her. If Caridin's research couldn't be recreated and was so complicated then it was clear that the Anvil could only be operated by a master smith. No one rivaling Branka's talents had revealed themselves in Orzammar and if someone did exist they were a complete unknown. Branka had fought for the Anvil and sacrificed two years, three hundred men, and her very sanity for it. If the Anvil were to be reclaimed, she would be the one to work with it. Branka was insane. All that mattered to her was the Anvil and Aunn shuddered to think of what she would do with it. She might rely solely on volunteers at the beginning because it was easier than forcing people but it wouldn't last. She was like Valtor in that respect: nothing was ever enough.
And then there was the matter of the king. Harrowmont had made it clear that he would step back and willingly allow Bhelen to take the throne if Branka told him to and so he couldn't be counted on to control her madness. What if she decided to start turning all of the casteless into golems? Some casteless could become golems with minimal effect because it would be just like losing them to the Legion. Losing too many, though…the casteless were not an infinite resource. They needed them to fight darkspawn, yes, but they could hardly perpetuate themselves if they all became golems. Sure, golems could last hundreds of years but if the casteless population was no longer sustainable then what would they do when they needed more? And if they started forcing casteless to become golems then what would stop them from fleeing to the Surface? Even posting guards to prevent them from escaping wouldn't be foolproof and many could die in riots further decreasing their population. And then there was also the fact that forcing people to become golems was immoral even if no one would trouble themselves with it if it were the casteless.
Bhelen wouldn't let Branka walk all over him but Branka and Bhelen together posed its own set of problems. Bhelen was just the sort of person who might decide to send anyone who disagreed with him or who was just inconvenient to the Anvil. It would be just like Valtor's reign of terror and Branka was highly unlikely to have a crisis of conscience and stop. Even if she were, Bhelen would definitely decide that she was too dangerous to let live and simply have her killed instead of making her into a golem that he couldn't control. Actually, that made her wonder why in the world Caridin's idiot apprentices were willing to make their former master into a golem when they couldn't make a control rod and whether Valtor was aware of this when he gave the order.
There was no way to get the Anvil without Branka as even if Aunn killed her now – well, not personally, of course – then there was the little matter of if Caridin had any sense then he would force her to destroy the Anvil before forging her crown. Orzammar could have golems but it could also turn against itself and make life even worse. Branka had turned her own lover into a broodmother. Harrowmont would not oppose her. Bhelen would have allowed her to become a broodmother.
And then there was the matter of Oghren and Shale. Shale had pretty much declared herself for Caridin and Aunn wasn't sure she could talk Shale into changing her mind. The best case scenario would be getting Shale to sit this round out so she wouldn't be forced to destroy another golem but even if she could manage that, Shale would never agree to keep following her and would most likely insist on defending Caridin to the death anyway. He had been a golem, isolated down here for entire millennium…how had he stayed sane down here? Had he even stayed sane? She couldn't even imagine. Oghren hadn't said anything but given how long he had spent trying to find Branka and the sheer amount of ridicule he'd endured and effort he'd put into this goal, she didn't really see him being especially eager to throw all of that away to kill her now. Maybe he'd turn on her, maybe he wouldn't. As the whole dilemma about the Anvil boiled down to, a golem was more useful than a dwarf.
"I'll stand with you, Caridin," Aunn said quietly, feeling strangely as though she were dooming her people and that might not even be the only time. The Anvil couldn't be recreated but Branka could not be trusted and neither candidate for king could be countered on to temper Branka's madness. There was no right answer here. There was a right answer at the Circle Tower, there was a right answer at Redcliffe, there was even a right answer in the Brecilian Forests. There was no right answer here, though. It really wasn't fair. She didn't know why she was surprised. Maybe she'd just spent too much time on the Surface.
Sure enough, Shale approved. "So it fights with Caridin? Good. This seems…right."
"You would throw away such a marvel of creation?" Morrigan demanded, her disapproval plain. "For what? To protect some hypothetical victims that we don't even know will exist and if they do should be able to protect themselves?"
"I'm going to have to agree with Morrigan, here," Zevran remarked. "Living souls suffer all the time. Peasants who work the land are trapped but we don't go around destroying farmland, do we? We need the farmland and your people need the Anvil. That much is clear to me."
"From what I understand, peasants are free in Ferelden and there are no peasants in Orzammar," Aunn replied. "Besides, how long would the peasant be forced to work? Living to be one hundred would be highly unusual and they wouldn't be able to work for nearly that long, only for somewhere between two and three decades. After that, they're dead and no one can forced them to do anything anymore. The golems that are around now are over one thousand years old and they aren't just not permitted to leave, they have their every action dictated to them. That's hardly a valid comparison."
"It is the price of power," Morrigan said unrepentantly.
Zevran, however, looked uncertain. "There is a certain freedom in death, yes. To be denied even that…You know the situation and the people involved better than I do. Do what you will."
"But who will get the power?" Aunn challenged. "We won't. Branka will and whoever I crown as king will. I don't trust them to do what's best for Orzammar with this power. Why should I keep the Anvil around to enable someone else to gain the power to unleash a reign of terror?"
"I suppose it's true that you won't be able to control it and cannot count on gratitude," Morrigan mused. "Very well."
"Thank you Morrigan, Zevran," Aunn said sweetly. "Now does anyone else think I'm making a horrible mistake?"
Sten spoke first. "You are working to end the Blight even if it is taking far too long. It's not my place to question you."
"Of course I think you're making a mistake!" Oghren cried out. "You're going to destroy the Anvil and kill a Paragon! But…Branka won't listen and I saw what happened to Hespith and Laryn. I'm not sure if there's anything else to do." He looked as if those words were causing him physical pain.
"Thank you, Aunn," Caridin told her, sounding deeply moved. "Your compassion shames me."
Aunn wouldn't call it compassion, exactly, but – as per usual – she saw no reason to correct people who thought better of her than she deserved.
"NO!" Branka howled. "You will not take it! Not while I still live! You think you are the only master smith here, Caridin?" She pulled out a single control rod. "Golems, obey me! Attack!"
A good two thirds of the golems moved on Branka's orders.
"A control rod!" Caridin cried out, horrified. "I cannot beat her alone. Please, you have to help me!"
"I-I can't fight a Paragon!" Aunn protested. She knew that she had to, knew that Branka wouldn't be pulling any punches herself, but she couldn't. "Oppose, perhaps, but kill? I can't do that. I can't."
"I'm not going after my wife, either," Oghren said flatly. "Although more because she's my wife than because of the whole 'Paragon' thing."
"Will it at least fight the golems?" Shale demanded.
Aunn thought about it briefly. She would be furthering the decimation of the golem population that could never be replaced now but she couldn't be dead weight here. "Yes. I can do that."
Oghren shrugged. "I suppose I can do that, too. It's better than just standing around watching my wife die, at any rate."
Aunn pointedly ignored Branka as she and Oghren made their way towards one of the opposing golems and began to chip away at it. Fighting a golem was a little like fighting an ogre in that it could crush you by simply stepping on you, bringing it down was going to take awhile, and every blow it landed on you was devastating. Fortunately, golems were less inclined to pick people up than ogres but just as slow so continuing to move while hacking away at it was a slow and tedious but effective way to bring it down. Aunn and Oghren had time to fully destroy one golem and had been making good progress on the second when suddenly it stopped attacking. Branka was dead and her control rod smashed.
"It is done," Caridin said, sounding much older all of a sudden. "That will be the last life this Anvil of mine has claimed."
"Aye, that it is," Oghren said heavily. "I need a drink."
For once, nobody said anything to him about how much he'd already had to drink. Aunn wondered how much worse he'd be handling this without the alcohol he'd already consumed.
"You said that you needed a crown, yes? I do not care to know the name of your chosen king or anything about him…or her, even," Caridin told her. "My time has long passed and I will trust your judgment to do what is best for Orzammar. Before I make the crown, however, I need to see that you will live up to your end of the bargain. It's not that I don't trust you but this is far too important to take any chances with."
He held out a hammer and, hands trembling slightly, Aunn took it. It looked like she would be the one to personally destroy all hope of ever bringing back golems. Branka was dead and the Anvil would crown no king so it was a little late for second thoughts. She'd passed the point of no return. She just wished she didn't have to do it personally. Just the same, she was an Aeducan no matter what Orzammar might say and as such she wasn't about to run from what she had to do.
It had only taken three blows to destroy the Anvil and Aunn didn't think she'd ever had to do anything more difficult. Unfortunately, it would only be the most difficult thing she'd ever done for a week or two before she'd need to declare a king (and for all that she hated being called upon to make this choice, part of her still relished the idea of deciding Orzammar's future and all of her would be pissed if she'd spent weeks down here doing the impossible only to find out they'd settled the matter themselves).
The minute the Anvil was destroyed, Caridin had sprung into action and began crafting a crown. It had taken several hours and Trian had discovered a record of every dwarf who had become a golem written on a stone slab that Aunn had quickly traced. If nothing else, Shaper Czibor was going to love her by the time this was over even as he refused to admit that he knew who she was. At least she'd probably be able to make him feel guilty about it.
Eventually, Caridin had finished and offered up the finest crown she had ever seen (and given that she was the previous king's daughter she had seen the current crown quite often). It was large and ornately crafted with the seal of House Ortan on the back. This would certainly go a long way towards convincing them that a long-dead Paragon had crafted it. And Caridin really was dead now as he had promptly stepped off of a ledge and into the lava once the crown was safely in her hands.
She and the others had walked back the way they came and encountered Kardol and the others just finishing off a group of darkspawn.
"Greetings," Kardol told them. "Still alive, I see. Impressive. Have you given up your mad plan to find Branka?"
Aunn merely held up the crown in reply.
Kardol examined it closely before whistling. "Huh. Guess she was still alive after all. She does good work."
"Caridin made this, actually," Aunn corrected. Seeing his look, she clarified, "He was a golem. Long story."
"I'm sure," Kardol said, shaking his head. "And I probably don't want to know. If you've got a Paragon-forged crown then, regardless of the circumstances, you stand a good chance of breaking the impasse. We may have a king soon. I think we'll accompany you back to the city. I guess it's a good thing you came after all, even if you are here to deal with Surface problems."
Aunn stared at him. "The Blight is hardly a Surface problem!"
"Oh no?" Kardol asked skeptically. "So it's not the one time the Surface notices there are darkspawn still in existence because they leave us alone and go attack them? Explain to me how this isn't just a Surface problem."
"Because the Blight has begun in Ferelden which is, in many ways, even less prepared to deal with it than we were to deal with the first one," Aunn declared. "If Ferelden falls then the darkspawn will either come after us directly or move on to another Surface nation first. If Ferelden goes on to another Surface nation then the Blight will have had time to gather strength and that other nation will find it harder to defeat if it even can. Blight always take years and years to stop as well as the alliance of many different groups. At any point, the darkspawn could decide to come after us. We haven't had the darkspawn attack us during a Blight for far too long now to think that we're in any way prepared to deal with it and I think that by now we can safely say that losing sacrificing allies so that later we'll have to deal with the darkspawn alone isn't working out very well for us. If we don't stop the Blight now they'll only be stronger when they attack us in our homes."
Kardol looked thoughtful but said nothing.
"You live!" the captain of the guards said as they made their way – finally – back to Orzammar.
Aunn tilted her head. "Didn't I already have this conversation with Orzammar at large?"
"You did, but that was before you went off for weeks into the Deep Roads and…" the captain broke off. "Are those golems?"
Aunn glanced behind her at the five golems Caridin had still had that hadn't been destroyed and who had followed them back up here which, combined with the presence of the Legion and the fact that they had actually more-or-less known where they were going this time, had significantly shortened the return trip. "So they are. We'll need to get them to the Shaperate at some point. Among other things. Was there anything else?"
The guard started. "Oh, right. Lord Harrowmont has left orders that you are to be escorted immediately to the Assembly chamber upon your return."
"Is that so? Does that mean that the throne is still undecided?" Aunn asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. She really didn't want to have wasted the last few weeks.
"Aye," the guard said grimly. "At this point it seems like the only way the throne will be decided will be when Harrowmont drops dead of old age. I do hope you can change that."
"I intend to try," Aunn assured him. "Lead on."
It was a very long walk from the entrance to the Deep Roads to the Assembly chamber in the Diamond Quarter. Aunn wished that she could have time to stop off in the Grey Warden quarters and freshen up but she didn't want to delay this any longer than necessary as the anticipation was practically killing her. The deshyrs generally didn't spend much time in the Deep Roads – the expedition that got Trian killed was only a few short hours long – but they'd certainly seen enough people returning from there to not be scandalized by her appearance. As she walked, a huge crowd began to form. Caridin's crown was clearly visible in her hands and she had returned from the dead yet again and so everyone was lined up to see her pass by. Many people didn't look displeased to see her which, given the annoying fact that she was still exiled, was definitely a good thing.
What to do, what to do…Just like as with the Anvil, there didn't seem to be a right choice here. Bhelen was her little brother and Harrowmont was a family friend. Bhelen had set her up to be killed in the Deep Roads (if she were lucky) after having been stripped of everything she had and decried as a traitor while Harrowmont had, futilely, attempted to defend her and gave her the information she needed to save her life. Bhelen and his men had been nothing but condescending to her since her return – Bhelen sending a few assassins her way – while Harrowmont had eagerly welcomed her back. Both had promised to reward her for her aid but Bhelen, as an Aeducan, could offer more. Still, she rather thought that she, personally, would do better under Harrowmont given that he was fond of her while Bhelen appeared to be bitter and jealous although at this point Aunn couldn't even begin to guess at what. He'd never shared her fascination with the Grey Wardens. If she were to ever be able to return to Orzammar, it would be much more feasible if Harrowmont were king and not Bhelen.
That was just the personal, though. What about what was best for Orzammar? Caridin had trusted her to do the right thing but what was that? She knew exactly what kind of a ruler Harrowmont would make. He had outright told her that he felt that the Assembly should have the real power while the king dealt with military matters and…well, that was pretty much it. He would always defer to the Assembly and the Assembly was far too pre-occupied with its own self-interest to get anything done. Even if Harrowmont were to grow a backbone and act like a proper king, he was a deeply traditional man (with few exceptions such as his dealing with her) and he wouldn't be any more eager to make any big changes to Orzammar. Orzammar under him would stay almost exactly the same as it had been under her father. In the past, she wouldn't have seen anything wrong with that but she had learned a great more than she'd meant to since returning home. Fortunately for Orzammar, Harrowmont was old and unlikely to live for long. He would always be a place-holder king, put on the throne to prevent her brother from taking it and serving only until a better successor could be found. That was what was important. Who would succeed Harrowmont? If it were someone just as traditional as he was, which had a good chance of happening if Harrowmont had any say in it, then that would definitely be a problem. If it were someone who was willing and able to change things then it might not end so badly after all. Aunn refused to believe that Bhelen was the only chance that Orzammar would ever get although refusing salvation when it was offered was never a bright idea.
Bhelen. What could she even say about him? He'd been hiding who he really was for years and she had no idea when that had even begun. She couldn't say much about who he was or what he was planning. He kept a noble hunter who seemed very defensive of him and actually seemed to love him (and a nephew named after their father that she'd never gotten a chance to meet and, if she didn't choose him, almost certainly never would). That certainly indicated that he was less against the casteless than Harrowmont for all his well-meaning disdain. Aunn had been to Dust Town and she was still shaken by what she'd seen. Images of that place had been quickly replaced by images of the broodmother, however, and she couldn't forget about that no matter how hard she tried. Additionally, Bhelen seemed to have no more allies now than the ones he had personally bribed when getting her exiled. What's more, his deshyr supporters had actually dropped by three as he got closer to his goal. Say Bhelen was a reformer with plans to save everyone – which she wasn't even sure if she believed. Would he even be able to get the Assembly to do anything he wanted them to do? Dissolving the Assembly was an extreme measure but one that he could still take to get his way. If he survived everyone's attempts to kill him for that, which he probably would as paranoid as he was, then there was no way his successor would be approved and whoever did being king next would simply roll back the clock on all of his reforms.
Harrowmont wouldn't try to do anything but would Bhelen even succeed at what he was trying to do? And if he did would it last for more than his limited lifespan? If she chose Bhelen then she was as good as killing Harrowmont herself as Bhelen hated him far too much to let him live. If she chose Harrowmont then Bhelen would probably be fine as Harrowmont wasn't trying to show strength by getting rid of his opponent or looking to destroy her father's son. Harrowmont would only live for a short while as king, even shorter if Bhelen had anything to say about it, and he could just consolidate his support and get the Assembly to accept him as Harrowmont's successor no matter what the man would have thought about it. That would certain make trying to live in Orzammar, if she even could, very difficult but there was every chance that this Blight would kill her before she could return, her exile wouldn't be repealed, or that Bhelen would make it difficult for her even if she did support him as king. What was she supposed to do?
"Lords of the Assembly, I call for order!" Steward Bandelor was saying impatiently as the doors to the Assembly were flung open. The golems wouldn't fit through the doorway and so they were waiting outside. "This discussion gets us nowhere."
Bhelen and Harrowmont were standing on a raised platform only a few feet away from each other which Aunn was sure they both loved. "Then why all these delaying tactics?" Bhelen challenged. "My father has but one living child to assume the Aeducan throne." Aunn's heart clenched as she realized something she'd been overlooking. It was so obvious, really, that she didn't understand why she'd missed it before. If she didn't pick Bhelen then she would be the one to remove her own family from the throne after nine generations. House Aeducan would no longer rule but House Harrowmont. She had no illusions about that lasting but if the massive amount of support that Harrowmont had gotten was any indication then people would be incredibly reluctant to hand the throne back over to her house. And it would be all her doing.
"Your father made me promise on his deathbed that you would not succeed him," Harrowmont said firmly. There was that, as well. Of course, angry as she was with her father that might as well have been a point in Bhelen's favor.
One of the guards to the room stepped forward hesitantly, clearly displeased about having to draw attention to himself in the middle of all of this. "I apologize for the interruptions, Lord Steward, but the Warden has returned."
Dozens of heads turned Aunn's way at once to stare in astonishment at her. Really, she'd only been gone for a few weeks. Was she supposed to return in failure so soon? Branka had been gone for two years and so of course it had taken awhile to track her down. Bhelen's eyes were narrowed in fury at seeing her. Yes, that was definitely an indication that picking him would lead to good things for her.
"We should let the Warden speak," Harrowmont declared calmly. "What news do you bring?"
Aunn took a moment to look around the room before speaking. She had never had the Assembly's undivided attention like this before and she knew that her news was going to rock them. "I bring a crown from Paragon Caridin for his chosen king." It wasn't even a lie, really. Caridin had chosen not to know anything about the candidates and had appointed her to act as his proxy. She was just neglecting to mention that little complicating detail, was all. She held up the crown for all to see. It really was quite impressive-looking.
"What?" Bhelen cried out in disbelief. "Your wits must have been addled by the Deep Roads quite a bit if you think we're going to believe this. The Paragon Caridin, Ancestors keep him, perished over a thousand years ago!"
"Not quite," Oghren corrected, looking surprised and pleased when everyone's attention turned to him for once and none of it was scornful. "Caridin was trapped in the body of a golem. Aunn granted him the mercy he sought, releasing him and destroying the Anvil of the Void. Before he died, Caridin forged a crown for Orzammar's next king, chosen by the ancestors themselves!"
Aunn barely concealed a wince at that. Yes, that was what had happened and she was grateful that he hadn't seen fit to mention that part about being involved in Branka's death but still. Did he really have to tell everyone that she had destroyed their only hope of creating golems? Granted, no one had been expecting to recover it but that was still not something she'd wanted known. Hopefully, they would eventually take into account the fact that Caridin himself had wanted it destroyed before they judged her too harshly for that.
"And we are supposed to trust this, the word of a drunken sot and a murdering exile known to be in Harrowmont's pocket?" Bhelen cried out angrily, clearly playing the crowd. He could be such a charmer sometimes.
Steward Bandelor stepped forward and took the crown from Aunn. He looked at it very closely, his eyes widening more by the second. "This crown is of Paragon make and bears House Ortan's ancient seal," he confirmed, sounding awed. "Tell us, Warden: whom did Caridin choose?"
Images of Laryn and Hespith flashed before her eyes. "Caridin…chose Harrowmont."
Why did those words sound like she was dooming her people? Why would the opposite choice have felt the same? There was nothing to be done now. She could hardly say 'Nah, I'm just messing with you. He really picked Bhelen.' She'd made the wrong choice, had felt that even as she said it, but she couldn't for the life of her see a right choice.
Harrowmont nodded appreciatively, ever formal and dignified. "I appreciate your forthrightness, Aunn. You have acted with grace through this entire torturous process." He slowly made his way down to where Steward Bandelor was standing with the crown now raised above his head.
Bhelen appeared to be frozen in shock and fury. He hadn't reacted yet and Aunn wasn't looking forward to when he did.
As Harrowmont kneeled to receive his crown – the crown that Aunn had had forged and had ripped from her family – Steward Bandelor murmured reverently, "Let the Memories find you worthy, first amidst the lords of the houses, the king of Orzammar."
The crown securely on his head, King Harrowmont stood up proudly to face the rest of the deshyrs. Some looked pleased at the outcome. Others, their faces impassive, were watching Bhelen. At last, Bhelen seemed to shake himself and stepped forward.
"No. I do not accept this."
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