The group hid behind a low stone wall along the garden.
"I have to say, it is quite bold of Erlina to do this. If the guardsmen do not fall for her act, it ends here for her," Leliana surmised in a hushed voice as she crouched low.
"How do I look?" Zevran wondered, adjusting his new Fereldan guard disguise.
"You'll have to let Jayne or Alistair do the talking or your accent will give us away," Wynne cautioned.
"Don't worry, my dear Wynne. I intend merely to indulge in the art of imitation and carry myself with the same oafish demeanor," he explained. "I have had ample opportunity to observe the type, as well, you see, since Alistair has provided me with such an interesting study—"
"Sssh!" Alistair hushed them impatiently.
They all remained in silence as Erlina breached the distance from the quiet garden to the small side door guarded by two burly sentinels. As the guards took notice of her, she hurried her pace, her voice breathless and panicked.
"Oh, but you must come!" she cried. "I saw something! By the fountain! I think it was a Darkspawn!" she improvised, gesticulating wildly.
Jayne bit her lip. Oghren slapped his forehead as Alistair and Leliana groaned.
"Why did she go with Darkspawn? That's going to mobilize Howe's entire army," Oghren rasped.
"It's actually a very clever maneuver," Zevran whispered. "She's obviously not seen as a serious menace or she'd never be given this much freedom to roam about. They probably see her as a nuisance, but not much more. To them, she's just an elf and a handmaiden. Remember these are Fereldan guards."
"Will you two shut up! You will have ample time to ponder and chronicle these events from your dungeon cells if you do not!" Morrigan finally interrupted.
Jayne focused her attention once more on the befuddled guards ahead, staring at each other and exchanging words she could barely discern.
"They will drag us all in the ground to be eaten!" Erlina continued.
"Should we call for help?" one of the guards asked.
Oghren shook his head apprehensively.
"Did you fall off a cart full of stupid?" the other guard retorted. "Call for help? So they could see us act like scared little girls 'cause of some…knife-eared wench?"
Zevran offered them a tart grin.
"See? What did I tell you! The ignorance of others is always my gain," he murmured.
"They will eat us all alive!" Erlina wailed. "Please! Get help!"
"If there is something there and we don't sound the alarm, we'll look worse than scared," the first guard reasoned.
The group remained tensely quiet.
The second guard exhaled loudly, "Andraste's Holy Knickers…Fine! We'll check the courtyard. If it will keep you from wetting yourself."
"Oh, it won't," Zevran uttered softly, grinning menacingly. Oghren suppressed a guffaw.
"There's nothing there!" the second guard guessed patronizingly as he glanced towards the direction of the garden wall.
"Thank you!" Erlina announced, feigning enormous relief. She turned towards the garden and a defiant expression crossed her face as her eyes darted past their hiding place. She headed towards the path leading further away from them and pointed. "Oh, it was over here!" she shouted, indicating the walled entrance to the fountain they had passed earlier.
The men followed her begrudgingly.
Jayne watched them pass the wall hurriedly. As soon as they were out of sight, she signaled the group.
"Now!" she ordered, facing the unguarded entrance.
They followed a narrow hall to a small and dim foyer where they were supposed to wait for Erlina's return. According to her, it was the quietest entrance in the estate—the fact it led to the garden in the stronghold made it a less important entrance-one that required less surveillance in face of the protesters at the front of the estate.
"What's our cover?" Alistair turned to Jayne. In the distance, voices spoke animatedly. A warm glow emanated from a large room down a second hallway branching out from the foyer. Jayne had to remind herself that they had invaded a fortress. It was not going to be easy by any stretch of the imagination.
"Like Erlina said, if anyone inside the castle asks, we are a patrol waiting for the sentinels to return from investigating a report of Darkspawn. Apparently, Howe has been adding so many guards to his roster that new faces won't raise suspicion if we proceed calmly."
She peered at Oghren and Sten, their disguises incomplete and ill-fitted to their sizes. At least they were staying to the back of the group. They waited silently for Erlina to return. In the meantime, two servants appeared in the hallway, hauling baskets of linens. They remained impassive, Alistair nonchalantly acknowledging them with a quick nod. They passed them without much notice, focused on their task. Jayne's heartbeat pulsed hard, the rush deafening in her ears.
We are in Howe's territory. One misstep on our part is all it will take…
The side door opened and Erlina finally appeared, to their enormous relief.
"Ah!" she interjected with annoyance. "It took me forever to be rid of those two!"
She signaled the group to follow her through the door she had just come from.
"You must be careful now," she advised them. "The servants, they will not look closely at anyone in uniform. All guards are alike to a cook, no? But you should not draw attention to yourself!"
They all let their gazes land on both Sten and Oghren.
"This is where we must part ways," Jayne stated firmly. "Both of you must stay back along with Wynne. Should something go wrong, we will need you to act quickly."
"We have your back, Warden," Oghren pat his mace.
"Having our back includes escaping back to Arl Eamon and informing him of our capture," Jayne reminded him. "If we are captured, you must not try to rescue us. This is a fortress—do not act brashly or foolishly."
"I would say t'is too late for that," Morrigan quipped.
"Understood." Wynne nodded.
"Down to the left, the hallway ends in a stairwell leading to another garden exit. It has been abandoned and is like an old storeroom—you will have to unblock the door—but it is deserted and unguarded. Should the alarm be sounded, you must exit through that way. After that, you are on your own," Erlina apologized.
They all exchanged uneasy glances.
"Right," Alistair said curtly.
"See you on the other side!" Oghren grinned, saluting them with a fist thump to his chest.
"Be careful," Wynne said, giving them a parting glance before she rounded the corner.
"May you be victorious," Sten declared.
Erlina slipped down the hall and watched cautiously as the three disappeared down the stairwell. When she returned a few moments later, she wasted no time.
"Most of the guards are new. They won't know you for a stranger at a glance." They followed her as she crossed the foyer. "It is best you keep your distance from all of them…and try to blend in," she recommended, her voice low. They halted before the brightly lit entryway. It was a kitchen, Jayne noticed. Inside she could hear the clatter of dishes and silverware, a busy exchange over smoke and sizzling over a roaring fire.
"Andraste help us all," Erlina commented, before stepping boldly into the room.
It helped that most estates in Ferelden followed a similar floor plan. Jayne knew that once they crossed several rooms, they would find themselves in a courtyard, much like in Highever. Erlina had entreated them to meet her at the end of the courtyard, before the room where Anora was being held captive.
"Won't it be heavily guarded?"
"It already is, Wardens," Erlina had explained. "The room is at the heart of the fortress, in the middle of the guards' quarters. "But this is where your disguises will serve you well: although there are no sentinels standing guard continuously, I have often been accosted by different patrols demanding that I not linger at the door. Head in that direction and I will be standing there, giving you the pretext you need to approach my Lady's quarters.
It helped that their first exposure to the fortress was through the bustling kitchen, past the banter of the cooks and their helpers busily attending to the endless meals that needed to be prepared for all those guards. Jayne and Erlina led the group calmly, walking past the kitchen hands who paused only long enough for them to pass, casting them reproachful looks, their lips tightly pressed.
She broke out into a cold sweat when they stepped out into a dim room where soldiers were still gathered as they finished their dinners. She could sense her companions stiffen as well.
We must act as if we belong here, she quickly recovered, clearing her throat and making her way through the room towards the exit, catching snippets of conversation about Howe, the estate, and the protesters outside. The others stayed close, moving as purposefully. At one point Jayne noticed one of the guards had peered up from a conversation with his colleagues to observe them with curiosity. For an unnerving moment, she even thought the man would intercept them as they wove between the long wooden tables. It was then that Zevran looked up as well and feigned to be waving jovially at someone further past the man. The man quickly turned his head over his shoulder and with a shrug, returned to his conversation.
"Well-played," Leliana whispered approvingly.
They moved slowly, allowing a larger party of guards to cut them off. The exit to the rooms led to a cobblestoned path winding around the fortress. They found themselves at last in the courtyard. Nearby the metallic clash of swords and the crack of colliding shields resounded from a room where combat drills were being practiced. They glimpsed the interior of barracks, all their doors held wide open to air out the stale rooms. Jayne led them down the path, occasionally turning around, seeking to confirm they were moving in the right direction, and disguising her nervousness with a decisive stride. Erlina had not misled them: the guards they did cross did not pay them much heed.
"Why do you think there is so much turnover?" Alistair wondered.
"Because we are in the middle of a Blight," Morrigan replied.
"Most of these guards might be only staying for as long as it takes to amass the required coin to escape Ferelden," Jayne whispered.
"Such conditions should make for interesting shifts in alliances, as well…" Zevran surmised.
"What shifts in alliances?" Alistair puzzled.
"Bribes!" Zevran huffed. "Must I spell everything out for you?"
"If you meant bribes then you should have said bribes!" he complained.
Erlina, to their relief, awaited them at the next turn, standing impatiently before the arched doorway, large red gonfalons hanging on the walls over it.
"Follow me," she urged them.
She led them down another side hallway off the hall's entrance. They paused before a hulking wooden door—a silvery sheen coursed over its surface. Morrigan exhaled heavily.
"This does not bode well."
Erlina leaned towards it.
"The Grey Wardens are here, my Lady," she announced, peering past their heads to reassure herself of their privacy.
A muffled voice responded.
"Thank the Maker!"
Again, Jayne felt her pulse quicken. She recognized the voice—a voice she had heard speak on many a formal occasion before. It was Anora. Of that, she was certain.
"I would greet you properly, but I'm afraid we've had a setback," the voice continued.
"Oh. No crumpets? I say we should leave," Zevran muttered in a low voice. Leliana and Alistair shot him murderous glares. "But surely—who thinks about etiquette in the middle of…" The peeved looks did not subside. "I really wish the dwarf were here," he mumbled, falling back somewhat and crossing his arms.
"What sort of setback?" Jayne asked, approaching the door. It rippled with pulsing light.
"My host was not content with leaving me under a heavy guard. He sealed the door by magic!"
"How do we open it?" Jayne asked, turning to Morrigan. Before she could reply, the voice inside spoke again.
"Find the mage who cast the spell. He'll most likely be at Howe's side."
Jayne glanced towards Zevran. Expect mages, too, he'd warned her earlier. Far from his usual self-satisfaction, though, his grim expression betrayed no delight upon being correct once more.
"She is right, you know." Morrigan contemplated the glowing spell. "Any attempts to undo this spell not only would fail, but alert the caster, as well. T'is better to find the mage."
"And how do you propose to get him to undo this?" Alistair challenged her.
She summoned a burst of flame from her palm.
"Like this," she said briskly.
"Fine. We will be back soon," Jayne declared.
"Thank you, Grey Warden. My prayers go with you," she offered.
"How helpful! Fill your quiver with that, Leliana," Zevran teased quietly. She cast him a dirty look.
Erlina stepped away from the door, a pained look on her tired face.
"Howe will probably be in his rooms. They're at the end of the hall, on the left," she added helpfully.
Erlina walked up to her and carefully handed her a metal ring laden with keys.
"This should assist you."
"How did you obtain this?" Leliana asked, surprised.
"Let's just say I called in a favor from the Head Housekeeper."
"Must have been one heck of a favor!" Alistair marveled as Jayne took the ring.
"I am sure you reassured her well. Are we correct to assume aforementioned Housekeeper is probably many miles from here as we speak?"
"On her way to Orlais, as a matter of fact."
"Of course." Zevran nodded.
Erlina faced the group.
"I will remain here, beside my Lady. To do otherwise would arouse too much suspicion," she explained. "Please: help her," she entreated them.
They proceeded, walking past the mostly unfurnished, gloomy and desolate rooms. The estate of the Arl of Denerim was large, almost cavernous. Jayne found it strange that Howe would have chosen quarters somewhere so central to the estate's military operations. Typically, a noble family had its rooms separate from the nerve center of the fortress, where dungeons and treasuries were closely guarded.
But then again, Howe no longer had a family beside him. Although not a hint of pity rose within her, she was able to discern how he had, with only himself to blame, isolated himself from all of his family—the Brylands as well as the Howes.
At the end of the hall, they faced three different doors.
"Which one?" Alistair wondered.
"What do we do now?" Morrigan asked.
"Look, these doors work to our advantage. We can shut them behind us depending on what we find," Zevran insinuated. "But standing out here scratching our chins is not going to yield much, no?"
"Yes, you are right. Except that all the doors all locked," Leliana concluded, cautiously pushing against a large door lacking a proper knob after ascertaining that she could hear nothing from the other side. Jayne took out her ring of keys and tried fitting the larger ones into the keyhole in the door before them. Her hands trembled and her mind felt jumbled as she attempted to wedge what evidently did not fit into the lock.
"Shall I, or shall you, my dear?" Zevran finally asked Leliana after a few moments of anxious waiting.
"It's a heavy door and it opens from the inside," she observed. "No visible hinges…Rather pointless to attempt kicking it open."
"Kicking the door down? And here I thought you would appeal to that Orlesian savoire faire!" Zevran ribbed her.
"Do you have a better idea?"
"Not only an idea: I have a proper torsion wrench and a few picks," he added, reaching into his belt pouch."
"I never said I was going to kick down the door," Leliana huffed, reaching into her own belt pouch and pulling out a small set of keys.
"Skeleton keys?" Zevran said with a hint of jealousy. She grinned. Alistair cast Jayne a nervous glance.
She grinned. Alistair cast Jayne a nervous glance.
"Which assassin comes with the best accessories?" he muttered.
Zevran arched an eyebrow cockily, even as Leliana attempted to fit one of her keys into the keyhole.
"It depends, my friend. What do you mean by best? Because I think our Warden appreciates my excellent equip—"
"Alistair, keep an eye out on any patrols headed this way," Jayne interrupted, watching as Leliana breezed through her entire set of keys without success.
"The lock is more complicated than I thought," Leliana noted in a troubled tone, slipping the set of keys back into her pouch. Zevran edged past her and deftly prodded the small wrench and a pick into the lock, angling the pick this way and that, attempting to listen carefully to any clicking. They watched him struggle as he jabbed the tools into the keyhole with mounting frustration.
"Well?..." Leliana provoked.
"If all the locks are like this one, we are in trouble," he decided.
"Now what do we do?" Leliana wondered.
"I wish we had the dwarf to use as a battering ram." Zevran pursed his lips.
Both Leliana and Zevran turned their despondent gazes back to the lock. Alistair, standing at the end of the hallway, turned to the group with a panicked expression.
"I think someone is coming!" he announced in a low voice.
"Finding us here is going to arouse suspicions." Jayne paced between the doors indecisively. "What if we try this other door," she began to suggest. Morrigan grumbled impatiently and pushed past the other two.
"Someone give me a key—any key!" she ordered, extending her hand.
Leliana quickly fished out her skeleton keys once more. Wordlessly, Morrigan seized one and ran her fingers down the metal shaft, causing it to glow. Satisfied with her handiwork, she stuck the key into the lock and after a few moments, turned it, with some effort. To their surprise, the bolt rolled back and the door clicked open. Jayne signaled to Alistair and they all slipped past the door into a narrow passageway. Behind them, Leliana shut the door gently and they all waited, eyes affixed to her stern expression as she held her ear against the door. Outside, armor clanked noisily and boots pounded over the cobblestones. The small commotion, however, never halted or even lingered by the doors they had just been standing between. It wasn't until they heard the soldiers march away in the opposite direction that Jayne realized she had been holding her breath.
"Where are we?" Alistair asked. The room was windowless, stuffy and dark. "Are there any torches we could use?"
"I am sure Morrigan could solve this problem as well," Zevran sniffed peevishly.
"T'is not my problem if you resent magic users," she retorted, a spark of fire erupting over her palm. The flame cast a faint glow over their new surroundings. Jayne tried to take stock of where they were: some kind of corridor leading into a larger, vaulted room, she gathered.
"It's not that I resent magic users," Zevran attempted to excuse himself. "It's just that you mages…It's rather inelegant, you see. Leliana and I have taken the time to meticulously learn our craft and you just barge in, mumble a few words, wiggle your fingers, and without any finesse, you open the lock."
"I am sure that Howe's guards would have appreciated your—failed, I should add—finesse! I succeeded in unlocking the door, we have escaped, and thanks to me, the chances that you will live to become the subject of some bawdy ballad someday have just improved," Morrigan explained haughtily, moving forward and lighting two torches ensconced in opposite sides of the corridor.
"Where in the Maker's name are we?" Leliana uttered softly.
"Better yet, where does this corridor lead?" Alistair took one of the torches and stepped forth.
A musty odor clung to the room as they entered it—although the ceiling soared over them, it was a smaller room. At first, Jayne became aware of the crates stacked along the walls. It wasn't until she approached them that she noticed the piles of golden coins strewn over the ground.
It was a treasury of some kind, she gathered.
"Under other circumstances, I would say this has been a most successful mission," Zevran noted, his eyes widening at the display of valuables so casually stored.
"Don't take any of it!" Alistair cautioned. "We don't want to be accused of stealing if we are caught!"
Leliana grimaced.
"Alistair, I think if we're caught, the fact we stole some gold will be the least of our worries."
They all turned their heads at a loud clang, finding Jayne crouching near a corner, a golden goblet rolling out over the ground towards them.
"Warden?" Zevran asked, approaching her warily.
Jayne turned her head to face them.
"This is all stolen," she announced somberly. Her hand trembled as she reached for the goblet, gingerly turning it so that the crest engraved on it was visible: two laurel branches forming a circlet of sorts.
A strange unease possessed her—a heaviness spread through her and caused her to shudder even as an unpleasant flush prickled her skin. Those golden goblets had belonged to her family, had graced their table at countless dinners. She lifted one of the crate's lids and peered inside. As she pulled out the handful of coins, she sought to discern the effigy upon it, trying to decipher whether she was staring at more laurels or not. Instead, she found another crest: a stylized Chantry sun, three diamonds, and a familiar chief-cut shield.
"The Kendells," Jayne muttered, turning a coin in her hand. "This is Urien's family crest."
"The former Arl of Denerim," Alistair concurred.
She stared stonily at the coin.
"Howe has amassed a small fortune by confiscating—no, by looting— the gold of his foes," she told them. "Some of these coins were struck in Highever; they could have only come from my father's treasury." Her gloved hand brushed over the stony ground.
"Howe ransacked Highever's coffers, took advantage of the Arl of Denerim's demise…For what? For a semblance of power? How does he intend to enjoy the fruits of his treachery? The man is so covetous, so blinded by the prospect of power that he will even risk the well-being of those whom he seeks to rule. Does he fail to understand that all these entrapments of power are worth nothing if the Blight comes to pass? Is he so deluded?"
The others remained silent.
"All these nobles…For shame!" she seethed. "Eamon is forced to call a Landsmeet because none of them has had the decency, the moral fortitude to stand up to Loghain despite the responsibility of serving Ferelden that they have been entrusted with. Their silence, their lack of action in the face of this monstrous alliance is akin to complicity and acceptance. How can they allow this to pass? They fear standing up to a king killer more than they fear meeting their deaths at the hands of Darkspawn. Is it pride? Greed? How far we have fallen." She placed the goblet upright and looked longingly at the crest. "Sometimes," she began, turning to face Alistair, "I wonder if any of it is worth our efforts."
Leliana stepped towards her.
"Jayne, surely you don't mean that! Think of all the innocents—all the people who are at the mercy- who have no control or say over—"
"I know, Leliana. I know," she replied tiredly, standing up at last. "Ultimately, the only reason we fight is for Ferelden's people. Not its rulers, who would run it into the ground in all their cowardly and short-sighted ambition. They do not merit their titles."
She faced them.
"A Blight, at least, is honest in its intent. Its evil is never disguised or apologetic. This, what has happened to Ferelden's rulers, is a poison of a different, perfidious ilk."
She cast a parting glance at the solitary goblet.
"It is time to find Howe," she said sharply, making her way past them.
"Where to now?" Alistair called after her.
She had a suspicion. She swept her hand over the walls, pressing her palms against different sections. Leliana appeared to revive, understanding what Jayne was seeking, and began to do the same. After a few moments, the bard peered up at them as a loud creak echoed and a section of the wall slid back, an old mechanism springing into motion, revealing a dim stairwell leading downwards.
"Who comes?" a voice called up to them ominously from further below.
"Follow me," Jayne ordered them, disappearing into the darkness.
Anora's dialogue is straight from the game, as well as Erlina's exchange with the guards.
Sorry for the delay in updating. It's shameless...is there anything I can say? I am writing-and this story has been plotted to the end-but it takes me a while to edit, tweak, revise...especially since work has been demanding and leaves me with little time-and energy, honestly-to do all these things I love. I hope to have time soon to write more and to catch up on all the fics I enjoy so much. (Pitkat, I'm looking at you!)
To everyone who has stuck by this story for so long, THANK YOU. Thanks for the comments/PMs, despite the lack of updates in a while. It is the best motivation to see that people still care and it makes me sit on my tush and get cracking.
Be well and see you soon. Promise! :-)
