The Assembly

CONTENT:
Rating: Teen
Flavor: Adventure/Drama
Language: probably
Violence: not quite
Nudity: no
Sex: no
Other: none

Author's Notes:

May 15, 2017. That's when "Outside Orzammar" was published. Can we escape this place before 2 whole years have passed!? GO, ME!


The Assembly

==#==

When the Wardens got to the Assembly Hall, it was already packed with squabbling dwarves.

"I guess they're really eager to hear what happened in the Deep Roads," Alistair commented.

"Just let me do all the talking," Bannon warned him. The place was an oil barrel waiting for a flame. Making any dwarves unhappy - by, say, killing their paragon and/or destroying their golem factory - would be a bad idea of epic proportions. Bannon gave Leliana a pointed look. She nodded and stood close to Alistair, the better to wrangle him and his tendency to tell too much of the truth.

At the center of the hall, Bhelen and Harrowmont faced off, axe and mace in hand, each backed by a handful of his faithful warriors.

"Ah," said Zevran, "they finally see some sense in how to settle this once and for all." Wynne didn't even bother shushing him.

"You!" Bhelen was shouting. "Are not a Noble! You! Cannot be King!"

"Your father," Harrowmont screamed, "named me heir, and I promised him on his deathbed that you would never be king!"

"I am a blood prince of Orzammar!"

"Bloody murderer is more like it!"

"There is no vote! You do not qualify! I am the king! Unchallenged!"

"I challenge you! House Harrowmont stands behind me!" He was echoed by cheers from his men - and others around the chamber.

"The History shows clearly that you do not belong here - merchant!"

"More lies and deceit. I don't know where you got that!"

"Shall we wait while you go fetch the 'real' History of your family's lineage? About how long will it take your forgers to produce one?" Bhelen sneered. "The Histories do not lie!"

"Your father did not lie!"

"We only have a liar's word for that!"

Steward Bandelor tried to intervene. "Noble sers!"

Bannon added his voice. "GENTLEMEN! There's no need for violence. Sit down, and we'll hear another voice on the matter. The voice -" he turned to the crowd in showman style - "of Paragon Branka! The discoverer of the Anvil of the Void!"

Excited hushed voices rippled around the chamber. Like kids on festival day, they began to settle in their seats for a story. Bhelen shot the elf a glare of deadly sharpness. It wasn't clear to Bannon if his or Harrowmont's was angrier and more threatening. Seething, both shuffled back into place. Weapons were grudgingly slung.

Bandelor mopped his brow and announced, "Warden Bannon Tabris will now speak."

"It all began some years ago," Bannon started. He circled the floor, mainly to make sure no dwarf was about to backstab him. "King Aeducan sent Paragon Branka on an expedition into the Deep Roads, in search of the legendary Anvil of the Void. The device designed and built by Paragon Caridin himself, the creator of the mighty dwarven golems.

"Need was dire," he intoned. "For hordes of darkspawn grew in number within the old tunnes. More darkspawn raided the gates. Mor darkspawn infested the Thaigs of old. More valiant dwarven warriors lost their lives defending the mighty kingdom of Orzammar."

The warriors gave a cheer.

"Golems were sorely needed. But no one had heard from Paragon Branka or her expedition. Most feared all was lost. No one dared the Deep Roads, no one but the Grey Wardens. Wardens trained - nay, forged - to fight darkspawn.

"Prince Bhelen commissioned our aid, our own expedition to seek out the fate of Paragon Branka and the Anvil."

Leaving room for the dramatic pause, he paced the circle again, switching direction. "I won't bore you with the details of our journey, the Wardens skirmishes with darkspawn, our aid to the Legion of the Dead, our battle at the Dead Trenches.

"I will tell you, we found Paragon Branka; yes, still alive!" The dwarves gasped and squirmed in their seats. "I will tell you she was the lone survivor, and succeeded in finding the Anvil of the Void. But-!" He snapped his hands up to still the rising excitement and hubbub. "Do not rejoice. The Anvil was guarded by ancient golems - renegades without control rods. They could not be reasoned with; they could not be stopped. They attacked us.

"We fought them as best we could. Yes, even though they could have been the might of Orzammar, we had no choice!" Bannon paused to swallow, to wet his throat and gather his thoughts.

"I regret to inform you: Paragon Branka perished in that fight, and the Anvil was destroyed."

The dwarves could barely contain their wails.

"Through her valiant effort, we were able to escape, and seal the remaining renegade golems in the cavern."

Bannon let them process this. He went over to the others and bent to retrieve his pack. "Guys," he said to them softly, "come on up. Watch my back."

Zevran leapt up at once, followed by Leliana, who tugged Alistair. He looked like he wanted to say something, but Leliana had a handle on it. Morrigan and Sten closed the group behind Bannon as he turned.

"I had the opportunity to speak with the living legend Branka on the eve before the battle." He recaptured their attention. "She was dismayed to hear how Orzammar was so divided, so at odds with itself. 'What can we do?' I asked her. 'We are only outsiders.'

"Then she went to the anvil at her camp. 'This is what we will do,' she said, and she forged this -" he pulled the iron crown from his pack and hoisted it aloft. "'This shall be the crown of Orzammar,' she said. 'Give it to the new king, the one true heir worthy to bear its weight - a good king, a strong king -"

Oh yes, and here, just the half breath of dramatic pause as he turned and held the crown out to -"Prince Bhelen!"

The Hall erupted in cheers. Bannon couldn't see what Harrowmont's contingent was doing, facing Bhelen as he was. Zevran assured him later that Harrowmont looked utterly crushed.

The vote was less than a formality at this stage. Bhelen accepted the crown and put it on his head. Harrowmont, and any supporters he still had left, slunk away during the celebrations.

Bannon wished he could be so lucky. But the Grey Wardens were guests of honor at the feast and couldn't escape. At least the dwarven ale in the Diamond Quarter was more passable than the common variety. Barely.

When most of the dwarves were drunk, then it was time to leave. Bhelen waylaid Bannon on his way to meet his companions in the foyer. The dwarf slammed him against the wall in a side room. "You! You stole my private correspondence!"

"Whoa, easy!" Before Bhelen could produce a dagger and start making good on the promise of severe maiming that was in his eyes, Bannon said, "It got you the Grey Warden support, didn't it?"

The dwarf paused, eyes narrowed.

"And the book. And 'Paragon Branka's' backing. And the crown."

Bhelen snorted. "The crown was as good as mine. If you hadn't interrupted the vote with your theatrics-!"

"Then what?" Bannon scoffed. "A battle royale?"

"I coulda been voted in, and my first order of business would've been to eliminate Harrowmont and his lackeys. Now they're scattered like roaches and they'll just be underfoot, undermining my authority, opposing reforms."

"You're serious about those?" the elf asked bluntly.

"I am." Bhelen released him and moved back. "If I can manage, no thanks to you."

"Hey," Bannon said sharply. "Look, you have a surplus of opposing warriors, I have a need for warriors. Send them all up to Redcliffe to fight the Archdemon. We both win."

Bhelen frowned. He thought it over and then, even more frighteningly, he smiled. "I could get to like you. So how much of that nugshit story of yours was true?"

"You got the crown. There's no more Anvil, no more golems. That's all you need to know."

Bhelen nodded thoughtfully.

The door swung open, and Zevran appeared, backed by Alistair. "Mi patrone," the Antivan said, eyeing Bhelen and the situation. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes." Bannon grinned. "Pr- That is, King Bhelen was just telling me how grateful he is for our help."

"And re-pledging Orzammar's full assistance to the Wardens. We'll be sending our warriors within the week! In the meantime, anything you need - supplies, new armor, weapons - they're yours. Just show the merchants and craftsmen this seal." He produced a carved ingot from his pocket. "Bring it back in three days."

"Thank you. And we will." Bannon pocketed it gratefully, then left with the others.

==#==

The next day found them shopping in the Merchant Quarter. Bannon appointed Leliana 'quartermaster' and put her in charge of her favorite activity - shopping. Alistair was being fitted for a suit of dwarven-forged armor 'fit for a king' that Leliana had ordered. Wynne and Morrigan were scouring the area for an herbalist, while the bard accompanied Bannon and Zevran on a stroll. Shale had elected to remain in camp, watched over by Sten, which was for the best all around.

"Are we really staying here three more days?" Zevran asked.

"Hell, no," Bannon replied. "Not if I can help it. Leliana, did you put a rush on Alistair's armor?"

"Perfection cannot be rushed," she said. Then relented with, "The King's seal certainly put us at high priority."

"We need to get back to Denerim," Bannon continued. "Maker knows what Loghain's been doing at that Landsmeet without us there. Maybe he's already reorganized Ferelden and had the Banns vote him in as 'King.'"

"I'm sure Alistair will be relieved," Zevran remarked.

"Noble sers!" A dwarven woman approached them from an alleyway, bearing a large rucksack. Her hair was greying, her hands rough. Bannon pegged her as a washerwoman, someone of the Servant Caste, certainly. "Grey Wardens," she continued. "I heard about your expedition into the Deeps. Pardon my askin', but I have been praying day and night to the Stone for the safe return of my boy."

"Easy," Leliana said, soothing the woman's agitation. "Tell us your name, and what concerns you."

"Oh, thank you! My name is Filida. My boy, Ruk, was with the Palavar warriors on a sortie into Ortan Thaig. They ran into trouble, and Ruk was lost, they said. Not dead," she insisted. "They brought their dead back, but not my boy. I was only wondering if you had seen a dwarven lad on your travels?"

"Ruk?" Bannon's mind flashed to the deserter, the ghoul, eating Tainted meat to hide from the darkspawn. He glanced at his companions. He'd told Zevran the whole thing, but Leliana would have only heard Alistair's version, and Bannon wasn't sure Ruk was part of that.

"Isn't that the one-" Zevran started.

"Ah yes!" the Denerim elf interrupted smoothly. "Ruk was aiding Paragon Branka and her expedition."

"He was?" Filida's eyes widened. Luckily, she didn't notice that Zevran's and Leliana's did, too.

"Yes, and he was truly instrumental in guiding the Grey Wardens to her."

"But he did not return with you..."

"I'm afraid he perished in the battle."

Tearfully, Filida looked up at Bannon. "I thank you for bringing me this news... though I would have preferred if he'd just come home, my fine son and not a hero."

Bannon nodded sympathetically. "We could not have succeeded if it weren't for Ruck giving his life to aid us."

Leliana frowned at him. Zevran just covered his mouth and looked away.

"You are so kind." Filida turned and lifted an ornate dwarven shield out of her rucksack. "Please, I want you to have this. It was my husband's." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "I was going to give this to the captain, in payment for them sending a search party for Ruk. It's all I have left of them."

"You don't need to give me any reward."

She shook her head. "No, take it. Take it! They have no use for it now. I only wish I had more I could give you, for setting my heart at ease."

Leliana said, "You should keep it, as a memento."

"Nay! It only reminds me of a warrior's fate - an early death."

Gently, Bannon lifted it from her hands. "It is a fine work. I will treasure it."

"Thank you! May the ancestors bless you." Her emotions overcame her, and she hurried back down the alley, hands over her face.

==#==

They continued through the halls of Orzammar, then when there was no one to overhear, Leliana turned on Bannon. "I cannot believe you swindled that poor woman out of her only treasure! You are a horrid liar!"

"Really?" Zevran quipped, "I thought he was a supremely excellent liar."

"What did you want me to tell her?" asked Bannon. "That her son was a raving lunatic, eating the raw flesh off darkspawn corpses, so he could avoid being branded a criminal and sent to the mines?"

Leliana bit her lip. "No, but... to make up such a fantastical tale of him aiding the paragon's cause. What if she speaks to Oghren or one of the Legion, and finds out that is not the case?"

"The odds of her ever talking to the Legion are about zero. Even if she saw Oghren, people like Filida don't just walk up to warriors and start chatting."

The bard frowned angrily at him. "And why did you take her husband's shield away from her? Her only link to him and to her son? And her without any money. You are shameless!"

"I told her she didn't have to. She insisted," Bannon replied.

"You did not have to accept it!"

"It would have been rude not to."

Zevran said, "I thought it was masterfully done. You really are a honey-tongued devil." He grinned evilly. "Speaking of which, would you-?"

"Later," Bannon told him firmly, making the Antivan grin all the more.

Disgusted, Leliana shook her head and marched off.

==#==

After dinner, they were drinking at Tapsters. Not the dwarven ale, but some rare vintage topsider's malt brew. Bannon had found it at a merchant's and immediately pulled out the King's Seal to acquire it, along with a surplus he could sell at an insane profit.

Wynne had retired early, Alistair not far behind. Morrigan had gone back outside to their camp, as she preferred the open air. Leliana was still not speaking to him. Zevran had gone off to relieve his supremely huge bladder.

Bannon was happily musing on Zevran's other large anatomy, when a fuzzy red dwarf crashed into his table. "You shroomkin fazzard!" it yelled.

The elf almost jumped out of his seat. "Uh? Oghren?" What was the dwarf doing here? Judging by the reek, he was being pickled in a barrel in the back room.

"You killed mah Brahkah!" the besotted dwarf wailed.

"Um, that was Shale."

"Tha' fraggin' Anvil killt her!"

"Okay..."

"An' you..." Oghren attempted to stand upright and focus his eyes. "An' you! Tellin' tha' story about her bein' all hee-roic, and no-bull, and tellin' them arse-brained nobles to get their shit together! She was a stone cold bitch!"

"I..."

"Bub nubbubby knows it!" He sobbed. "You done right by 'er!" Still blubbering, he collapsed into the opposite chair, his head down in his arms on the table.

"Uh... you're... welcome?" Bannon ventured. He slipped carefully out of his own seat. "Good talk! I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow." He tiptoed away.

==#==

As soon as Alistair's armor was finished, tried on, fussed over, and packed up to travel, Bannon dropped the King's Seal off, and they were finally away from Orzammar!

==X==


End notes:

And there was great rejoicing!