Five Orlesian Grey Wardens occupied a corner of the near-empty Gnawed Noble. Coin and cards were scattered across the table in front of them but the late hour of the night, and their Second's bad luck, meant that the game had been abandoned.

With little else to do, Torih inspected his small blade while Korgik examined the contents of a small scrap of vellum which the dwarf had pulled from the depths of his pocket. The two older men muttered across the table at each other, and if Torih correctly interpreted their furtive glances towards one of the barmaids, their detailed discussion involved the woman's attributes. The youngest of their company, another human who had some skill in archery, had greeted the beginnings of the conversation with a disinterested roll of his eyes and attempted to engage the dwarf with regards to the writing on the vellum. Preferring his own company, Korgik had brushed off all attempts at enquiries. The boy leant forward and rested his head on the table, hiding his face in the crook of his arm and attempted to disguise his boredom. After a short time, a soft snore betrayed that his boredom had transformed into a doze and one of the men went to nudge the boy awake.

"Leave him," Torih intervened without turning his attention from his blade.

"Young 'un should learn to hold his ale better."

"In time," the elf dismissed the complaint but cast a concerned eye over the lad. "He is still recovering from his Joining."

The same man grunted. "Aye, he's still to wipe the blood from his lip."

"Came round quicker than you did though, Gethin," the second man grinned.

"Ate less too," Korgik snorted, glancing up from his parchment.

"What the fuck would you know, Damon? You were down on the ground with me," Gethin scowled in earnest at the ready treachery of his human comrade before jerking a thumb towards the youngest Warden. "Still don't know what good he would've been."

"Could've carried you, old man," came the muffled rejoinder from the youngster, revealing that he was aware of the conversation going on around him.

The three other Wardens sniggered but Gethin turned and cuffed the back of the lad's head. "Watch your tongue, Ithyal."

Ithyal sat bolt upright, clenching his fists as he prepared to retaliate but a well-timed clearing of the throat from Torih stayed the man's hand. Chastened, the boy channelled his indignation into glowering at the tankard he had pushed to one side.

Turning to the older Warden, Torih cocked an eyebrow. "Lost your sense of humour, Gethin?"

"Shove it up your arse, Second. If we were anywhere else, you'd have let me kick the shit out of him."

The elf chuckled. "I would have allowed you to try."

"Second," Korgik interrupted the bickering and jerked his head toward something which lay over the elf's shoulder.

Torih twisted in his seat so that he could glimpse what had caught the Warden's interest. Cousland's dwarven companion and her Antivan Crow had entered the tavern and, as sparsely filled as the room was, the presence of the Grey Wardens had not escaped their attention either. A brief exchange passed between the pair before the dwarf headed to the back of the tavern where the rooms were. The Crow, however, sauntered over to the Wardens.

"My friend, it is a relief to see you unharmed," he addressed the Second directly. "Your departure from the Pearl was quite the spectacle."

Lounging back in his seat as he turned away from Arainai, Torih sheathed his blade and returned the stone to a pocket. He had no intention of allowing the assassin to goad him into a reaction he would later be ordered to regret.

"I have nothing to say, Crow."

There was soft laughter from behind him. "Ah, but perhaps I have something I wish to say."

He knew that the Antivan was likely baiting him but the suggestion that the assassin may have some piece of information to better understanding the circumstances of Cousland and Theirin was impossible to resist. His Commander's orders had been unequivocal and Torih had witnessed the extent of the dwarf's temper when he was disobeyed but Cousland's story continued to rankle him. He would welcome a corroboration of her detail regarding the healer, for his own state of mind, let alone for the sake of the Order.

Torih waved a hand in the direction of his Wardens as way of dismissal. "Return to the estate."

Korgik carefully folded his piece of vellum before secreting it away while Gethin and Damon hastily tidied the cards and coins between them. Shuffling from the benches, they traipsed towards the doorway in silence, though Ithyal shot a wary look over his shoulder as he walked away. As the Wardens exited the tavern, Gethin elbowed him in the ribs to remind him to keep his attention to his own affairs.

Signalling to the barmaid for a tankard of ale, Arainai settled himself on the bench opposite Torih. He rested his forearms against the edge of the table and studied the Warden with an air of expectation. "Well?"

"You are the one who wished to speak with me."

The assassin gave a broad grin. "Yes, but it is for you to find the question to which I have answers."

Torih rolled his eyes but was not overly taken aback to find that there were additional stipulations to the Crow's apparently loosened tongue. "We have spoken with Cousland."

"I do not believe that is a question."

"Clearly, you are aware of this. You would not have approached me otherwise."

Aranai studied him with a cool gaze while a silence fell between them. As it grew towards being uncomfortable, the barmaid arrived with the ordered ale and the Crow turned his head, sparing a winning smile for the woman.

"The healer," Torih conceded once the woman had left them alone again. "You were with Cousland when the mage healed her injury."

The Antivan swallowed a small sip from his tankard and settled it carefully onto the table. "There have been many injuries over the course of my time with her."

Torih fought to rein in his patience. It was important that he did not allow the Crow to rile him as he had done the other night. "In the Chantry, during the attack on the city, prior to the defeat of the Archdemon."

"I do recall such an event. What of it?"

"What happened?"

"Now, my friend, it cannot be so easy as that."

Torih eyed the assassin, considering the details Cousland had included which he could safely pursue without courting the wrath of his Commander. "Cousland's injuries were severe. Is it true that the mage died as a result of her healing?"

"She died. Whether it was a result of the healing, I do not know."

"You can guess."

The Antivan shook his head, taking another gulp of ale and allowing himself to savour the taste before answering. "There would seem little benefit in doing so. Do you not wish an accurate report?"

"I wish the truth."

"As do I," Arainai pushed aside the tankard and leant across the table, his forefinger beating out the rhythm of his words as he spoke. "Therefore let us not continue with this pretence. Tell me what the Wardens wish from Elissa and Alistair and I will speak plainly."

"And how am I to trust that you will speak honestly?"

"You cannot."

Torih snorted, his gaze drifting away from the Antivan and towards the door where two patrons had made a late entrance. Watching as the pair staggered past the end of their table, Torih reflected on Arainai's brutal honesty. That in itself was an indication that he would be able to have some confidence in what the assassin reported. It was clear that Cousland knew more, or at least suspected more, than she had revealed. And although the casual racism of human nobility held little interest for Torih, he had been hard-pressed to ignore the scandalised gossip which reported that the elven assassin was never far from the right hand of the King. It was clear to all that the Antivan had been granted a significant position in the man's trust.

But Arainai was no fool and Torih could not afford to be caught in a deception by either the Crow or his Commander. The realisation caused him to sigh heavily before he admitted, "I fear that I am unable to offer you the same courtesy."

"Then you must appreciate that I have little else to say," the Antivan shrugged.

The tormenting whispers in his ear that he disregard Argarth entirely began to grow louder and Torih forced himself to his feet, offering the Crow a reluctant nod of acceptance in the process. "Yes."

Not waiting for a reply, Torih left the assassin to his drink and followed in the long-departed footsteps of his Wardens.

"Unacceptable!"

The slam of the dwarf's fist against the desk punctuated his statement. While Eamon succeeded in controlling his urge to flinch, the aged wood creaked in protest at the misuse. The rattle of the contents of the drawers was accompanied by the grating of wood against stone as Eamon pushed himself up from the chair.

His hands rested flat against the top of the desk as he leant towards the Commander and made a point of lowering his voice so that the dwarf was forced to listen closely. "The process must be handled delicately."

"Pah," Argarth sneered but had the presence of mind to correct the menacing posture he had adopted. Removing his fist from the desk, he took a step backwards and fixed his glare on the Arl in order to placate himself. "So you have been informing me all evening."

Eamon held his tongue. Their discussion had reached a stalemate not long after Alistair had left and with each hour that had passed, the escalation of the Commander's frustration had only accelerated. The ferocity with which the dwarf finally snapped had surprised him but Eamon had nevertheless been preparing himself for it.

An exasperated grunt from the dwarf rewarded Eamon's sudden reticence. Stepping back from the desk, Argarth resumed his pacing and the ferociousness of his steps as they assaulted the floor caused the free-standing bookcases to tremble each time he neared.

With the Commander's attention momentarily distracted, Eamon allowed his arms to fall to his sides as he stretched the ache from his lower back. Maker, he had remained seated for too long. His eyes searched the room for an excuse to move that would not reveal his own discomfort or agitation at the slow progress which had been made. A small tray with an odd assortment of scraps of food lay on a side table near the door where it lay, almost forgotten. The servant had delivered it an hour or so ago with a timid apology and the message that the Arlessa insisted that the Guerrin hospitality should not be found wanting. Both he and the dwarf had tersely acknowledged the message then promptly ignored the offering.

Eamon side-stepped the desk and strode towards the table, making sure to avoid both the Commander and that blasted flagstone in the process. The movement was a welcome sensation to his cramped muscles and eased the tension in his back. Without the ache to distract him, Eamon picked over the off-cuts of salted meat and chunks of bread. He was not overly hungry but the presence of the Orlesian wine, bless his wife, was something to be thankful for. Reaching for a glass, he poured himself a generous amount.

The footfalls continued behind him and Argarth had evidently regained enough of his temper to speak in a more measured tone. "Regardless of how the process should be handled, it is for you to negotiate, Arl. We are only concerned with our Warden."

Eamon smothered a sigh and turned to face the dwarf, glass in hand. "Removing the Hero from Ferelden will only serve to harm both our interests."

This was the point upon which their discussion had grounded to a halt. He did not know how else to communicate the importance of ensuring that Elissa remain in Ferelden, at least for a short while.

Argarth growled, still pacing. The length of his stride increased as he attempted to channel his simmering anger. "You agree to trade Cousland for Theirin yet you dictate what I am permitted to do with her! It seems that I am required to make all the compromises while you reap only the rewards."

Despite himself, Eamon allowed a humourless chuckle to escape. "Nothing is further from the truth, Commander. It would give me no greater satisfaction that to see the Hero removed from Ferelden."

"So what is our issue?" the dwarf snarled.

Eamon swilled the wine round in the glass as he spoke. "I simply wish to ensure that we do not compromise this separation of the Order from the Crown."

The dwarf reached the fireplace and spun on the ball of his foot with a lightness that Eamon would not have expected possible.

"The separation would be served by her recall to Weisshaupt."

Eamon allowed himself a long drink as a way of drowning the various snipes that his ragged patience did not have the strength to resist on its own. On swallowing, he took a deep breath and managed to keep his tone casual, "Commander, you do not seem to appreciate the emotional complexity of the problem we find ourselves faced with."

Argarth snorted as he passed on yet another travel of the room. "First political and now emotional. I am beginning to believe you are not interested in finding a mutual compromise, Arl."

"This is not true, Commander. We have successfully navigated the political issue in that you have permitted Alistair to relinquish his obligations to the Wardens. With the Crown secured, it will not be difficult to convince the nobility that the Hero's place is among her Order where she is better positioned to defend Ferelden." Sensing that Argarth was about to argue, Eamon hastily added, "at least that is what we can argue for the moment. The same cannot be said for Alistair however."

"Then you intend to pander to the boy?" the dwarf sneered over his shoulder.

"Not entirely." Eamon finished the last dregs of his wine and set the glass back on the table behind him. "Alistair can be manipulated with remarkable ease."

"Hardly a warrior's approach."

"If it was a warrior's approach which sent him directly from your debrief to my room then I am thankful it is not."

Argarth pulled up short of the far wall and spun round to face the Arl, fists clenched at his sides.

Rather than encourage a confrontation, Eamon looked away from the dwarf and towards the fireplace on the opposite wall. The flames had died down into glowing embers and he moved towards it, taking up the poker from the hearth and using it to persuade the flames to flare. Satisfied that it would not be smothered, he carefully restocked the grate with fresh wood from the small pile kept to the side of the fireplace.

Standing up, the Arl made a face as he noticed the remnants of soot and ash on his hands. He turned back to the desk, careful to avoid contact with his clothes, and rummaged around in the drawers for a scrap of cloth.

With his attention legitimately focused on his search, Eamon was able to continue the conversation without apparently seeking to aggravate the Commander. "We cannot discount the strength of feeling they appear to have for one another."

There was a pause during which he imagined the dwarf was struggling to reign in his temper. Eventually though, there was a flat-toned response. "I think you are simplifying things. Even their separate accounts suggest more than a passing infatuation."

At the back of one of the drawers, Eamon spied a scrunched rag of linen that he used for ink spills. Sighing with relief, he seized it, understanding that it also reflected his realisation that he may have finally succeeding in accurately communicating the problem that the dwarf was still to appreciate. "So you acknowledge that there is an emotional aspect between the two which should be considered?"

"I acknowledge that you believe that it is important to our considerations," Argarth conceded with a heavy sigh.

"I do not doubt that they care for one another but I believe that their circumstances over the last year have accelerated that attraction more than anything else," Eamon wiped his hands on the cloth before looking up at Argarth. "We must tread carefully to ensure that we do not perpetuate the idea that they are continuing to strive against some impossible odds."

"Odds which you believe are reinforced by Cousland's removal from Ferelden?" The dwarf neared the desk with a cautious step.

Eamon nodded. "Yes."

"Surely you are not suggesting that their betrothal stand?"

"No, absolutely not," the Arl dropped the cloth onto the table with a firm shake of his head. "We wish to remove any links between the Grey Wardens and Fereldan Crown. Their betrothal stands in the way of this."

"At last, a point we can agree on."

"However, it is important that we orchestrate a balance. They must believe that there is a chance for reconciliation to ensure their initial compliance."

The dwarf now stood opposite Eamon, his arms folded across his chest as he eyed the man with a faint suspicion. "Arl, I have little talent for schemes. Speak plainly."

"Perhaps it would be more appropriate to suggest how difficult their betrothal makes the situation."

Argarth grunted in disbelief. "You intend to use the truth?"

"Why not?" Eamon pushed his argument with a renewed earnestness. "They are aware of the concerns you have already expressed regarding their oaths. It will not be surprising that compromises have to be made. Certain elements of the truth could be used to separate them."

The Commander shook his head and turned away from the desk. He spoke over his shoulder as he succumbed to the temptation of food and wine, "while obscuring other elements would help to hide the extent of your part in this."

"And yours. You have met with her and she has clearly satisfied whatever conditions you had set for her. You are not without blemish, Commander."

"So it would seem," a resigned chuckle greeted the Arl's observation. "Though I do not believe my involvement will be greeted with quite the same response as yours."

"As you say, that is for me to negotiate," Eamon dismissed the sly attempt at provocation. Resting his hands against the back of the chair, he watched as the dwarf chewed on one of the lumps of bread. "What remains important is that we recognise the value of their betrothal."

Mouth full, Argarth settled for waving a hand by way of agreeing with the point.

"You have need of a Warden-Commander, do you not?"

The question hung in the air but Argarth made no attempt to acknowledge it. Instead he reached for the second glass and poured his own generous amount of wine from the bottle. His deliberate avoidance of the question riled Eamon.

"She is the Hero!"

The dwarf threw his head back and downed the full contents of his glass. The Arl heard a loud swallow and then a muttered, "I have told you, this title is irrelevant to us."

Tightly gripping the back of the chair, Eamon simmered. "Perhaps the First Warden will have a less short-sighted outlook."

"I believe I have also told you not to make empty threats, Arl," Argarth turned to face the man with a thin smile. "The First is concerned with his own affairs and rarely turns his attention from the Anderfels. Besides, did you not wish for a prompt resolution? I am unwilling to wait months if not years for this to be resolved but if necessary, I can. Can you claim the same?"

A small growl escaped from Eamon but he managed to bite down on his lip and smother the remainder of the sound.

"I did not think so," Argarth smirked, enjoying the upper hand. After a few moments however, he surrendered his advantage and rubbed at his temples. "However, if I have followed your argument correctly, then you would eventually wish that Cousland be removed from Ferelden entirely, yes?"

"Once Alistair has begun to turn his attentions to a more suitable match, yes," Eamon replied guardedly.

"I must tell you that I would wish to have Cousland recalled sooner than this," the dwarf grumbled but seeing Eamon about to argue, he waved away the protest and returned to his pacing. "Do not despair, Arl. I will make other arrangements. My point though, is that if I were to grant Cousland the title you so desire for her," there was a small yet derisive snort, "then she would likely remain in Ferelden until her death or Calling, whichever comes first."

"Their betrothal is worth more than simply her place among the Wardens."

"A place countless others have died for," the dwarf snapped as his temper caught the better of him.

"I meant no offence."

Argarth completed his length of the room and twisted round, settling into his stride again. Ignoring the apology, he continued, "but I understand the concept of trade. You wish to trade their betrothal for positions of power. My suggestion for Cousland is that of Second."

"To you as Commander?"

A short burst of laughter erupted from the dwarf. "I do not seek removal from Orlais, Arl."

"Then who do you intend as Commander?"

"My Second is capable."

Eamon felt his lip curl and his fingers tightened further around the chair. "I have heard unfavourable reports about your Second."

"And I have heard unfavourable things about your Hero," Argarth rebuked the man though he did not seem especially disturbed by the comment. "It is true that there are those within my ranks who would be suitable for the role but it would take time to seek the appropriate alternative. I am not adverse to such a summons but I will not leave Cousland as acting Commander and you protest at my taking her across the border. Therefore Torih is the solution." The dwarf halted so that he could meet the stare of the man with his own steady gaze. "This is my offer."

Conflicted between his need to accept and the gut instinct that it was a poor offer, the Arl hesitated.

"Of course, I would not need to find an alternative if Theirin were to..."

It was a blatant attempt at needling him but Eamon still interrupted the dwarf. The Commander's agreement to allow Alistair to take the throne was simply not worth interfering with, even as a transparent means of negotiating a more satisfactory arrangement for the Hero. "Elissa could still be removed when it becomes appropriate if she is a Second?"

"Her high-profile presence will be of use to us while we rebuild the Order within these borders but yes, it would not be unusual for a Second to be summoned elsewhere in the course of their duties."

"So we could suggest that she is intended for greater things if she is allowed to pursue her life in the Order?"

Argarth sniffed, diverting the course of his pacing back towards the tray. "You may suggest it."

"This would seem workable, Commander."

"Not entirely," the dwarf shook his head and, distracted from the food by the Arl's remark, looked back towards the man. "There is still the issue of where the Order should be rebuilt. Soldier's Peak has traditionally been the stronghold of the Wardens in Ferelden but it would not be my first choice as a location to begin to rebuild."

"Too close," Eamon murmured, considering the geography of the country. "What of Ostagar?"

"The Tevinter ruin?" Argarth frowned. "It was ruined before the battle and I can only imagine the extent of the damage it sustained during the fight as well as in the aftermath."

"There are few who have seen it. The presence of the darkspawn were a suitable deterrent for returning to it but areas of it may be salvageable."

"The darkspawn will be retreating," the Commander muttered, folding his arms across his chest as he appeared to forget the tray behind him. "It is possible we could reclaim the site for our own use." He glanced up at Eamon. "And it would suit your desire to have her close yet far."

A surge of relief flooded through Eamon as the arrangements came into a clearer focus. "Plus there is little of interest towards the south which could be used as an excuse for Alistair's presence there either."

"I can promise nothing until I have seen it for myself," Argarth sensed the change in the Arl and reverted to a practical cautiousness. "It may be destroyed beyond repair. Though it is true that an expedition to Ostagar would be useful as a means of further assessing Cousland's skill."

"It would also serve to herald our announcement that she is to remain in the Order," Eamon overlooked the potential problem of Ostagar being unsustainable as a base. It was something which could be addressed at a later date if necessary. He would simply pray that it would not be necessary. "And offer a natural beginning to their separation."

"When do you intend to make this announcement?"

"I suggest that we speak with them as soon as possible but the public announcement can be made at his coronation. It could also be emphasised by dressing the Hero in the insignia of the Grey Wardens."

"Very well. I can provide the necessary details for the tailors and smiths if you wish. It may also be fitting to have Torih dressed appropriately if he is to take his place as Commander."

"Excellent," Eamon took a deep breath. The weight across his shoulders eased a fraction though the thought of the convoluted manner in which he would need to manage the agreement prevented him from fully relaxing. "I suggest that we broach this with both of them as soon as possible. There are still some details I must discuss with Alistair but those can be completed within a matter of hours."

"Then tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yes."

"I will make arrangements to leave for Ostagar the day after."

Eamon made to offer whatever services his estate could provide in order to better assist the preparations but he was interrupted by a rapid knocking at the door. There was only the briefest hesitation and then it was pushed open to reveal an agitated Isolde.

Upon seeing Argarth standing to one side of the doorway, she gave a start and her gaze flicked between Eamon and the dwarf. "My apologies, Commander. I thought my husband was alone."

Argarth bowed towards her and gestured in the direction of the Arl, stepping away from the doorway so that he did not provide an obstacle between the couple. "Please continue, Arlessa."

She acknowledged the mark of respect before approaching the desk. With Argarth safely at her back, she shot Eamon a pointed look which was clearly intended to communicate the request that the Commander be dismissed.

Eyeing his wife, Eamon recognised the signs of an impending performance: her cheeks were flushed, her bottom lip was bitten and her usual insistence for etiquette had been intentionally mislaid. Maker, he loved the woman but he did not have his usual reserves of patience to suffer her theatrics this evening.

"What is it, my dear?"

"It is Alistair," she hissed at him.

He glanced over her shoulder towards Argarth. Surely the boy could not have prompted such a disaster in only a handful of hours, no matter how long and drawn out those hours had felt to Eamon. The Commander had overheard the hiss, despite Isolde's best intentions, and his brows were drawn into a frown as he took a few steps towards them.

"Speak freely, Isolde," Eamon ordered.

She scowled, unimpressed that her request had been ignored but not so distracted from propriety as to insist on it. "He is not in his room. Some weapons were left after their gathering so I instructed one of the servants to deliver them to his room. He was not there."

"He is missing?"

"No." Her nose wrinkled in distaste and her voice lowered as she confided, "I have been informed that he has returned with the Hero..." She trailed off as she allowed the suggestiveness to speak for itself.

There was a small silence before Argarth gave a gruff laugh.

"This is all?"

Outraged, she whirled round to face the Commander. "Is it not enough?"

He eyed the woman in open amusement before his gaze flickered across to Eamon, clearly expecting that the Arl would be in agreement that of all the issues which presented themselves with regards to the King and Hero, this was one of the more irrelevant.

Eamon raised one hand from the back of the chair and rubbed at his temple with forefinger and thumb. "I discussed this matter with him only this morning."

"I was told that they had separate rooms!" Twisting back round to address her husband, Isolde was the picture of indignant dismay at the thought that such disgrace had occurred in her household.

Removing his hand, the Arl shot a glare towards his wife. He would have more readily accepted her performance had it not been for the small detail, of which they were both well aware, that it had been she who had informed him that Alistair's bed was yet to be slept in. Clearly, this feigned offence was entirely for the Commander's benefit.

"Yes, dear," he managed through gritted teeth. "Separate rooms have been provided."

"Do as you see fit, Arl," Argarth interrupted with a shrug. "However, to separate them prematurely cannot be advisable. You know that this issue will resolve itself shortly."

Isolde summoned a small wail. "Eamon, you cannot truly intend to overlook this behaviour!"

Eamon conducted a brief search for the part of him which should be suitably offended by Alistair's lack of respect for either restraint or advice but on locating that part, he found that it was just as weary as the rest of him. Before he could summon the energy to explain this to Isolde however, Argarth spoke up.

"You have my opinion but I will respect your judgement," there was a smirk on the Commander's face as he bowed towards the Arl. "Send for me when you are ready to speak tomorrow."

"Thank you, Commander," Eamon nodded.

The door had barely closed behind the dwarf when Isolde rounded on her husband, ready to unleash a tirade against him but Eamon shook his head in anticipation of her rebuke. He was just too damned tired.

"If it truly offends you so much, my dear, then you deal with it."

Approaching the gates to the Guerrin estate, Torih found that his arrival provoked a flurry of activity from the guardsmen. His hand crept towards the small hidden blade at his side as two of the guards marched towards him. While none save for those drunken fools had threatened him, the elf was well aware of the discontent which was being levelled at the Orlesian Grey Wardens as a result of the rumours which abounded. The revelation that the Orlesian Warden-Commander had spoken privately with both King and Hero, coupled with his own questioning of relevant persons, had spread throughout the city but it was inside the walls of the estate where he felt most vulnerable.

"Grey Warden," one addressed him gruffly through his helm.

"Yes."

"Your Commander has sent word that you are to report to him immediately. He is to be found in his room."

Torih grunted his acknowledgement of the message. Side stepping the pair who made no effort of their own to move out of his way, he continued through the courtyard and up the staircase to the main door. The main hallway was brightly lit but as he navigated through the hallways and staircases to the upper floors, the number of candles and lanterns diminished until he was simply wandering between pinpricks of light from the irregularly placed candles rather than walking with any real purpose.

Reaching the hallway which led to the rooms set aside for the Grey Wardens, Torih skulked past the first door, sensing that it was empty. The one next to it however, had both a welcoming sliver of light creeping from beneath the door as well as the scratching beacon of a taint. He crossed towards it and, not stopping to knock, entered into the room.

At his entrance, Argarth placed the sheet of vellum he had been reading back down on the make-shift desk but remained seated. "Ah, Torih."

"I take it that you have reached an agreement with the Arl?" the elf threw over his shoulder as he turned to shut the door behind him.

"Yes. More than one, in fact."

With the door firmly closed, Torih turned and moved nearer the centre of the room so that he could address Argarth straight on. "What else was there to agree aside from the exchange of Theirin for Cousland?"

The dwarf gave derisive snort. "That was only the beginning. But it is finally agreed and there is one especially pressing matter which I wish to discuss with you."

"Oh?"

"You are to undertake the role of Warden-Commander in Ferelden, effective immediately."

Torih remained resolutely still while he stared at the dwarf. "How does this advance our own agenda, Commander? We are still to uncover the reason behind Cousland's survival. I do not understand why my undertaking of this role is necessary."

"I will explain this further tomorrow. I simply wished to inform you of my decision prior to the arranged meeting with Theirin and Cousland."

A frown developed into a deep-set scowl on the elf's face as he took a step closer to the desk. "I would request that you do not do this, Commander. I have no wish to..."

"You will go where you are ordered," the dwarf cut him off. "It is imperative that a Warden-Commander is appointed in Ferelden and you are the only option."

"The only option is not necessarily the most appropriate."

Argarth chuckled drily. "Modesty is an odd trait to develop at this time, Torih."

"We both know that I am not a suitable candidate..."

"Enough, Torih," the dwarf interrupted him with a snarl, pushing back the chair and rising to his feet. "You are well aware of the duties which must be completed by a Warden-Commander and for the moment, that is sufficient."

The elf lowered his gaze and retreated a few steps at the sign of the Commander's irritation but he could not prevent his teeth from grinding together as his jaw clenched.

A heavy sigh greeted the telltale sound. "Torih, if necessary then I will search out another Warden to take this role but it will take time. I doubt that you will wish to relinquish your authority once you have become accustomed to it."

"Authority over what? A blighted country and a deserter?" the elf muttered mutinously.

"Speaking of which, I would ask that you become familiar with Cousland. She will be your Second."

Even with head bowed and mouth clamped shut, Torih still successfully radiated a poorly-checked fury at the announcement.

"Enough." Argarth curtly deflected the silent protestation. The rustle of the vellum as the sheets on the desk were gathered together signalled that the dwarf considered the subject definitively dealt with.

Unwilling to rebel against the assumption of his Commander, Torih forced his chin up from where it had rested against his chest and focused on the dwarf with what he intended to be a collected expression.

The movement, fractional as it was, caught Argarth's eye and he glanced up from his papers. He studied the elf for a brief moment before shaking his head and returning his attention to tidying the table top. "If the rumours of the extent of her temper are to be believed then she will prove capable of withstanding yours. That in itself is a rare trait, Torih."

The elf simmered but kept his voice level as he asked, "what is to be expected during my time here?"

"You will be required to rebuild the Order within Ferelden while seeing to the eradication of the darkspawn during the Thaw."

"I am to surround myself with Fereldan recruits whose first loyalty will be to their Hero rather than their Commander?"

"This is a fair concern," Argarth acknowledged as he finished bundling the vellum together. He gestured towards the small leather pack which lay open on the bed and Torih obediently fetched it, passing the pack to the Commander without comment. "I will ensure that there is a regular flow of Orlesian Wardens sent to you however the majority of your ranks must be taken from Ferelden."

Returning to his position in the centre of the room, Torih forced himself to take a breath before he attempted one last appeal to what he could see as the only rational solution. "It would see more appropriate that you remain here to fulfil the role, Commander."

Stowing the papers away in the pack, Argarth buckled the flap shut with a grunt. "You said yourself, a blighted country and a deserter. Why would I wish to surrender my position in Orlais?" He glanced towards the elf. "This is what has been agreed and I will not tolerate any further protest."

Even as it riled against his better judgement, Torih responded to the authority of the dwarf and offered a submissive nod. "Yes, Commander."

"There are further details which I will need to discuss with you but they can wait until morning," Argarth passed in front of the elf en-route to replacing the pack in a chest which sat in the corner of the room. "But for now, you are dismissed... Warden-Commander."

The dwarf was clearly reaping some perverse pleasure from the situation but with the limited recourse available to him, Torih could only choke back the frustrated bitterness that threatened to suffocate him. "As you wish."

Many thanks to EasternViolet for her work on this chapter especially with regards to my sudden and inexplicable desire to hyphenate as many words as I could.
As ever, thank you for reading!