They soon returned to the Vigil and found a woman standing there. The moment she saw Justice, she ran up to him.

"Kristoff! Oh, thank the Maker!"

"I fear you are mistaken, mortal." Justice glanced at Ragnar.

The woman's face grew concerned. "Kristoff? Why are you…?" She got closer, and her eyes widened with shock and horror. "What has happened?"

This was not going to be easy, but she had to know.

"Perhaps you should calm down," said Ragnar remembering that Keenan had said Kristoff had been married and had sent for his wife shortly after settling in at the Vigil.

She shook her head at him. "Calm down? Calm down?"

Justice tried to help. "Your husband is gone, and I inhabit his body now. His death will be avenged, I assure you."

It had something less than a calming effect on the woman. "Avenged? You've desecrated his body! How dare you?"

Justice shook his head. "It was not intentional. There was—"

She glared at Justice, then pushed her way past Ragnar and ran. "Get away from me!"

Ragnar turned towards Justice. The spirit was shaking his head, his face confused. "This body has memories of this woman. Aura is her name. I did not know she would come."

"Poor woman," he said. This is not how you want to explain her husband's condition. "It must be a shock to learn like this."

"I must rectify this, somehow." Justice paced, hands twitching slightly. "Intentionally or not, I have done this woman a great disservice."

Ragnar nodded. "Where would we even look for her?"

"My memories suggest her home is in Trade's Bay. It will prey on me if we do not seek her out. There must be something that can be done to assuage her pain! Something!"

"I'll see what I can do." He had to give her some sort of compensation, especially since she made the trip by herself.

"The darkspawn call our attention, but should we get the chance to seek her out, I would be grateful."

Unsurprisingly he found Wartihog in the dinner pavilion having some drinks. He looked up when he saw Ragnar approaching him.

"Hey, Commander. We need to talk," he said, placing his tankard down.

"'Talk?'" he said as he sat down opposite him. "Am I in trouble now?"

"Is my axe bursting your chest?" Wartihog asked. "No? Then you're not in trouble. It's something else. Dreams. You get them?" He nodded. "This is a Grey Warden thing? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Ragnar waved his hand dramatically. "You're Wartihog! Fearless! You eat nightmares for breakfast!"

"This particular dream put me right off my breakfast," he muttered. "In my dream, I saw one of those bloated, vomit-smeared broodmothers, and it had Hespith's face… You remember Hespith, don't you?"

It was hardly going to be something to forget; she did, after all, nearly lead them to that doom when they were searching for Branka for King Bhelen.

"Branka was there and whispered 'It's time,' and Hespith screamed, and a thousand darkspawn burst from her…" Wartihog continued.

Ragnar just stared at him. "That's… strange."

"You're telling me. The darkspawn surrounded me and started talking… asking me if I would like lemon in my tea… And could I please teach them to read and write, and one of them kept repeating: 'Where's the baby?' That's when I woke up."

Ragnar just sat there in silence for a brief moment. "I think you've got too much on your mind."

Wartihog laughed. "Usually, they accuse me of the opposite. Thanks are listening, Commander."

Anders was in the library doing a bit of studying, and that's when he noticed the Ragnar walking in. He waved him over because he got quite a few questions to ask.

"So what would you do with you didn't have to be a Grey Warden?" he asked.

Ragnar frowned; it was clear that he had never been asked that question before. He then looked about Anders and said, "I'd leave. There's plenty to do elsewhere."

Anders nodded. "That's what I thought." He then sighed, remembering his days at the Circle. "I've never liked the idea of being trapped somewhere, to be honest. It reminds me of the Circle. After my seventh escape attempt, you'd think they'd have given me credit for trying."

Ragnar had to admit that he was impressed; it wasn't easy to escape from the Circle, let alone doing it seven times. There again, to his knowledge, the Circle was instilled disarray after the abominations went rampant.

"Seven escape attempts?" said Ragnar.

Anders smiled. "I got very good at escaping the tower. Just never at staying escaped. Until now, I suppose." He then stood there reminiscing about those happy times in the tower. "You know, there is one thing I missed about the tower. My cat."

"You had a cat?" Ragnar blinked.

He began to reminisce about Mr Wiggums. "Mr Wiggums. He wasn't my cat. He was the tower's mouser but took a liking to me. There were days when that stupid cat was the only person I saw. Except for it not being a person. Still, I liked him. Poor Mr Wiggums."

Ragnar frowned. "Why 'poor Mr Wiggums'?"

"He became possessed by rage demon—but he did take out three Templars. I was never more proud." He then raises his hand, pretending to have a goblet in it. "A toast to Mr Wiggums. May he forever eat mice in the Fade."

Ragnar gave him a strange look; it wasn't exactly every day someone would toast a cat. Some part of him was questioning the idea of allowing Anders to join the Grey Wardens. There again, he had just invited a spirit, who is currently possessing the corpse of one of his men. He was beginning to wonder how many more strange recruits he would find.

Ragnar found Justice going through Kristoff things. Apparently, he was able to sense him entering because he didn't turn around when he talked, "This is a chest of belongings once owned by the man whose body I now inhabit. His essence lingers upon these objects like dust."

Ragnar was slightly troubled that this was pretty much the first time he had witnessed a spirit in the waking world. "You can feel it?"

"I can even hear it whispering his name into the ether," he said. He then turned around and looked at him. "In the Fade, nothing outlives the spirit that created it. Here everything does. This world has fingerprints on top of fingerprints, witnesses to be long dead."

Ragnar couldn't even imagine what Justice was experiencing and was afraid that he might go mad. "Isn't that a little distracting?"

Justice shook his head. "To be surrounded by such beauty is a gift, not an inconvenience." He then looked down at his hands and then back to Ragnar. "The man who owned these things was a Grey Warden like yourself, yes? We intend to avenge him?"

Ragnar crossed his arms and nodded. "If we can avenge him, we will."

"Good." Justice continued to look at his hands and clenched them. "These darkspawn are a cancer within the heart of this world." He then sighed. "But there's nothing that can be done just yet, is there? A world so full of beauty the beauty goes overlooked. I must see it with different eyes."

Ragnar found Nathaniel was staring at a portrait of a woman; he turned his head and saw him approaching him.

He shook his head and smiled. "Funny. Considering all the things that have been taken, it figures this would still be here."

Ragnar looked to the portrait, then to him. "Let me guess—your mother?"

"Good guess. That's her." He closed his eyes as if reliving a terrible memory. "My father hated my mother. He only dragged this painting out when my grandmother visited… which was not often. I'd be paraded before her like a soldier on inspection, and she would pick over every flaw while Father waited his turn."

"Then what's the painting doing up there?" Ragnar asked curiously.

Nathaniel shrugged. "I've no idea. Maybe one of your Grey Wardens needed it to cover up a hole?" He then looked back at the painting. "A shame, really. It is a good painting. She was never that pretty." He then turned his back on the painting and walked off. "Anyway, someone should take this down. I think it's staring at me…"

Varel was waiting for him in the great hall. "Commander. The lords of Trader's Bay have come to swear fealty to you and the Grey Wardens. These were Arl Johann Trademan's vassals. Now they will be yours."

"What do I need to know about them?" Ragnar asked.

"Some of these lords bore Johann no love, but others had their prospects ruined with his demise." He sighed. "Tread carefully, Commander."

Varel's voice echoed from the stone walls. "Lord and ladies, I present the Warden-Commander of Midgard and Arl of Trader's Bay."

"Commander," said a lord that dropped to his knees.

He stepped to Varel's side. "Our differences are many, but our cause is one."

He had very little experience with nobility. He didn't know if they actually were inspired by his speech or were hiding it very well. One thing was certain, he would have to tread carefully when dealing with them.

Varel then spoke up. "Bann Esmerelle of Trader's Bay, as is an old custom, you have the honour of beginning.

"I promise that I, Bann Esmerelle, will be faithful to the arl in matters of life, limb, and earthly honour. Never will I bear arms against him or his heirs. So I say in the sight of the Maker."

Ragnar remained emotionless, but he could tell that she had been lying through her teeth.

The second to step forth was the man who had knelt. "I promise that I, Lord Eddelbrek…"

And the rest of the ceremony carried on like that.

"And so the ceremony is complete." He sighed with relief, who knew introducing to nobility could be so tiring.

"Long live the Warden-Commander," Lord Eddelbrek yelled. A few voices weakly echoed him. He made a mental note of the ones that turned away, and Esmerelle was among them.

He made his way down to Eddelbrek.

"Honoured to meet you, Warden-Commander. You come to us during desperate times," said Eddelbrek.

"Not more about your precious farms, Eddelbrek."

"Some in our arling do not have the comfort of city walls. On the plains, the situation is dire!" said another noble.

"What seems to be the problem?" Ragnar asked.

Eddelbrek turned to him. "As we feast, the peasants on our lands are starving or worse."

"The city's defenses are more important, Eddelbrek."

"There may be wheat in the silos now, but if the farmers die, where will you get your food?"

He held up a hand to forestall the argument. "I will send the soldiers wherever they are most needed."

"Then I pray to the Maker that your choices are wise," Lord Eddelbrek said before turning to continue the argument with the other man.

Anders leaned on a column, watching the proceedings.

"It's good to be arl, right?" he said when Ragnar went by. "The bowing, the social climbers who'd do anything to get ahead." He waggled his eyebrows. "If you see any stray damsels in distress, send them my way."

"Didn't you get your fill two days ago?"

"Who, me?" He grinned and then snapped his fingers. "Sir Tamra over there has something important to speak to you about."

Ragnar nodded and walked back into the fray. Anders shook his head then glanced at Nathaniel. Nathaniel's arms were folded; it looked like that he was in two minds about the Commander wasn't sure which mind he should follow.

Wartihog belched. At least the dwarf knew how to have a good time.

Sir Tamra nodded as he approached. "Warden-Commander." She smiled, but it did not quite meet her eyes. She was afraid. And… not of him. "We've all heard so much about you. So many good things, unbelievable things." She looked around and lowered her voice a little. "But many of your deeds cost people here a chance at great advancement. So many fortunes were deeply intertwined with the old arl. Some nobles here… they seek to end your dominion over them."

Ragnar wasn't exactly surprised by this news. "This much I've gathered already."

"Perhaps you do not know the full extent of their determination. I've had… occasion to intercept some of their missives. They are cryptic things. Any individual message is unintelligible. But together, they form a pattern. They mean to end you before you can begin. A deadly coalition."

"A conspiracy to murder me? I'm flattered," he joked.

"I wouldn't take this matter seriously, Warden. They know of your capabilities—and they're spending a fortune to see their aims fulfilled. Given a few days, I can retrieve the messages. I would've brought them tonight. But… I didn't know if warning you would be wise." She sighed. "I've much to lose and precious little to gain. Farewell. We will meet again soon."

He watched as she left and began to understand how the dwarven nobles felt, much to his annoyance.

Varel leaned towards him and murmured quietly, "let me know if you want the nobles cleared out. Uh, if you want the ceremony to end, I mean."

He wanted it to end half an hour ago, but it needed to play out. As much as he wanted, he wanted to discuss certain things with Varel. "Eddelbrek said we're not defending the farmlands."

"Eddelbrek speaks truly, sir. But things are dire," Varel sighed. "He and Bann Esmerelle both contest the deployment of soldiers. But we don't have enough men. It's a matter of what you want to protect. The city? The land? Trade?"

Ideally, they should try to protect them all. "Let's do our best to protect them all."

"As you wish."

"I've heard of a conspiracy against me."

"Do you know the conspirators? The right of high justice is yours, and treachery is a capital offence."

There was a problem; he didn't know the conspirators. "Sir Tamra doesn't know. She's bringing some evidence."

"She's a sly one, Sir Tamra. But knowledgeable about such things," Varel sighed. "Better to be a touch paranoid than turning up face down in a ditch. To proceed, we'd need strong proof. And that'll be hard to gather. There are options. Some I would not recommend; they could turn the nobles fierce."

"Let them try to trap me. Better men have tried."

Varel chuckled. "Loghain and half the kingdom tried to stop you last time. I suppose there's little to worry about. Anything else?

He shook his head. He had enough of sodding politics. "The ceremony has gone on long enough, Seneschal."

"Clear the hall; the commander has business to attend to!"

After spending two hours with the nobility, Ragnar decided to wander around and came to a stop when he saw Wartihog walking slowly backwards.

"Wartihog?" he frowned.

Wartihog jumped to the sound of his voice. "W-who's there?"

"What now?" Ragnar moaned.

Wartihog looked around nervously. "I was… uh, I was trying to keep my nose to the dust, watching out for… the sechleets." Ragnar just stared at him; he had never heard of schleets before. "One of the lads here told me about the schleets… said they're common in Ferelden. They… they lie on the ground, looking like ordinary pairs of pants until you turn around. That's when they… strike."

Ragnar did his best to suppress his laughter. "Oh, those schleets."

"Right! Right, you heard of them!" he said fearfully. "Pants that eat your eyeballs! After the done with you, they just… wander off on their unnatural pant-legs."

Ragnar found it very hard not to laugh. "Oh, you haven't been told the best part?"

"Best part?" Wartihog said fearfully.

He then laughed. "They're not real."

Wartihog stamped his foot in frustration. "Uh… sod. Come on, I've been on the surface less than two years. I don't know what's up here! That Jacob's gonna get it when I get my hands on him."

Ragnar shook his head laughing as Wartihog stumped of no doubt looking for Jacob.

Hiccup and his convoy had finally reached it to Maker's Sanctum, the capital city of Asgard. They were also currently in the Royal Palace and were about to be presented to Empress Celene.

Hiccup was currently wearing his leather armour combined with a brown fur cape. Astrid stood beside him wearing a white dress and white fur cape, and she felt rather out of place.

"Is it really necessary to wear this dress?" Astrid asked.

"We're about to be presented by the Empress along with the majority of the nobility; we have to set a good impression," said Hiccup.

"You are the Hero of Midgard, vanquisher of the Fifth Blight and the only Grey Warden to survive the slaying of an archdemon; I think you'll make quite the impression."

"Sadly, appearances are more important to Asgardians than actual deeds; everything we say and do will become under scrutiny as part of their Game," Hiccup explained. "Just think of it as a game of Wicked Grace."

"Sounds lovely," Astrid mumbled.

The doors then opened, signalling them to enter.

"Here we go," said Hiccup.

Astrid then grasped his arm, and the two of them began making the long walk.

"Presenting his Majesty King Hiccup the Heroic of Midgard, vanquisher of the Fifth Blight, Champion of Berk and son of Stoick the Vast. Accompanied by his wife Queen Astrid, veteran of the Fifth Blight and brother to the Teyrn of Berk."

Hiccup felt a hundred eyes gazing upon him and noted that everyone present was wearing fancy clothes, some more exotic than others. The main thing of note was that all of them wore masks; some covered their faces completely while others only covered them just above the mouth.

He knew very well that this was a tradition among Asgardians to hide their true faces as they played their Game. Personally, Hiccup found it difficult to trust anyone who wore a mask as they were most often worn by assassins.

However, his gaze focused more on the woman sitting upon the throne before him; she was indeed beautiful and had to be at least five years older than he was. Her blonde hair was tied in a bun, and the way she sat there had a grease of elegance to it.

"Your Eminence," said Hiccup bowing slightly. "It is truly an honour to be in your presence."

"But you are not asked, your Majesty, it is not every day that we have such a valued guest humble our great city," she said elegantly, and then her eyes turned to Astrid. "I can also see that the rumours are true that your lovely wife is indeed as beautiful as they say."

"Your radiant yourself, your Majesty," said Astrid.

"Before we begin with the proceedings, I must apologise for how Drago turned away your men," said Hiccup. "It was a great disrespect to your military and to you."

"There is no apology necessary, but I would like an explanation," said Celene.

Hiccup knew he had to be careful what he said next. "Drago had a lot of resentment to Asgard during the occupation. He was under the belief that the Grey Wardens of Midgard were spies sent by your country, and when they mentioned about the Blight, he believes it was nothing more than a ruse to get your army past our borders."

"As if we would ever do something so dishonourable," said one of the nobles.

"I'm not saying that anyone in Asgard would, but Drago hatred to anyone who believes in Asgard runs deep. He was forced to watch chevaliers rape and murder his mother before his eyes, and then they stripped his family of their land. Then a few years later, they butchered his father during the Rebellion, despite the fact not really been a part of it.

Ever since then, he has feared another occupation of Asgard, and he swore that he would do anything to protect Midgard. Apparently, that even goes as far as letting my cousin die by the hands of the darkspawn."

"Not mentioning poisoning your father," Astrid added.

"And attempting to kill you during your Landsmeet, if I heard correctly," said Celene.

"That is correct, your Majesty," Hiccup nodded.

"I suppose that our occupation was a little overzealous and could have been handled a lot better," Celene admitted.

"Your Majesty, you're not actually condoning your grandfather, are you?" said a noble.

"All I am saying is that it is clear that the occupation could have been more positive," said Celene. "Regardless, there is no point discussing events we cannot change, but be more focused on the future and on that point, let us cheer the valour of the Midgardian warriors, who single-handedly defeated the Blight."

"Cheers!" said everyone in the room.

Hiccup believed that he handled the situation very well, but he had an inkling that he had just been used by the Empress. While she was not a skilled warrior, there was no denying that she was a very skilled politician, and they can be even more dangerous.