Chapter 10
Lothering
Alistair
"Ah, there it is. Lothering, as pretty as a painting!" Alistar said as he crested the hill and joined his companions, looking upon the village sprawled out below them. It was completely picturesque.
"So, you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you? Falling upon your sword in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?" Morrigan asked, hard golden gaze sparkling with amusement. Alistair scowled at her. He wanted to ignore her, he really did, but he didn't think he'd be able to this time.
Rounding on her, he growled, "is my being upset so hard for you to understand? Have you never lost someone important to you? Just what would you do if your mother died?"
Smirking, she answered, "before or after I stopped laughing?"
Maker, what? "Right, very creepy. Forget I asked," he mumbled, turning away. What in the Maker's name was wrong with that woman?
"She isn't exactly wrong Alistair, you have been very quiet," Braden stated.
The ex-templar sighed and scratched his head. "Right, uh, I was just… thinking."
"No wonder it took so long then," remarked Morrigan. Guin and Nuala both groaned simultaneously.
"I guess this is the moment we're shocked to discover you've never had a friend your entire life," Alistair stated dryly, hoping at least that would insult her.
To his dismay, she shrugged and replied, "I can be friendly when I desire to. Alas, desiring to be more intelligent does not make it so."
Growling to himself, he turned away and started stomping down the hill. Damn that witch, he was not an imbecile! He heard Nuala admonish the wilder woman and footsteps following him, but he did not slow his pace. A moment later, a hand wrapped around his left elbow and Guin came up beside him, Ares trotting along beside her. They slowed his angry pace down the hill.
"Are you ok?" she asked.
"I'm fine," he ground out. And he would be, once he could get passed the anger.
"Look, I don't know what is going on between you two, but don't let her get to you. You're not an idiot and your grief is nothing to be ashamed of," the noblewoman pressed. Alistair felt a small smile curve his lips at her words, the anger steadily washing away and replaced by gratitude.
"Thank you, my Lady," he responded, quietly.
Guin nudged him in the side with her elbow, and his gaze found her green eyes. She was looking at him expectantly before rolling her eyes and stating, "I told you to call me Guin."
His smile widened and he responded, perhaps a little cheekily, "of course, my Lady."
She let out a small groan and shook her head, but a smile lingered on her face. "Fine, if that's how it's going to be, I guess I'll start calling you, Ser."
Alistair winced jokingly and a chuckle escaped his lips. "If you must."
They reached the base of the hill in short order, where the road continued forward upon a stone structure. Ahead of them were crates and wagons, arranged to block the view of what ever was behind them. Alistair and Guin slowed to a stop, allowing the others to catch up to them before moving forward. Something was wrong; there were too many places to hide and ambush unsuspecting victims. Nuala seemed to feel the same, moving to the front of the group and cautiously making her way forward, hand hovering over the hilt of her sword.
"Ah! More helpless refugees fleeing the blight! Well, if you're going to use the King's Road, you must pay the travelers tax!" exclaimed a man in simple leather armor, appearing from behind a stack of crates, followed by several more men appearing from out of their hiding spots, all looking at them greedily.
"Uh… thems don't look like them other ones. Maybe we should just let 'em pass," rumbled a large brute of a man standing to the leader's side.
"Nonsense! The refugee's tax applies to all travelers. Otherwise, it wouldn't be a tax, would it?" The leader replied, sending a short glare to the large man before smiling dazzlingly at the group of wardens. Alistair frowned, hand moving quietly and slowly to his sword.
"Oh yeah! Even though you aren't refugees, you still have to pay the tax!" the large man asserted proudly.
"What's the tax for?" Guin asked, eyes narrowed at the group of men in front of them, her own hands gripping the hilts of her sword and dagger.
"Why, to fix the road, of course!" the leader replied.
"And the bodies lying over there?" Nuala added, nodding toward a few bodies visible lying on the stones behind the wagon, eyes glaring hard. "Were they refugees that didn't pay your tax?"
The leader turned to look at the bodies, surprise crossing his feature before he schooled them properly. "Them?" he asked turning back to look at the group. "They decided to try to steal from us, you see. We had to defend the gold, didn't we?"
Nuala lowered her brows, a scowl curling her lips. "I think you're just common thieves preying on the injured and scared for what little they have left. Return everything you took from the refugees that passed through here and turn yourselves into the authorities, or die."
Anger dashed away the simpering charm from the leader's face at Nuala's order. "Common? We're so much more than common. Men, attack!"
Alistair ripped his sword from his scabbard, feeling dismay once again for his broken arm. Guin moved to his right to cover that side, keeping any would-be attackers from getting to his unprotected side. Nuala charged the leader, the dogs baying behind her as they leapt at the bandits, tearing at skin with their claws and snapping their jaws at unprotected necks. Behind Guin and Alistair, Braden and Morrigan threw spells to the point the air was sizzling.
The fight was over in very short order. Just a minute after the fight started, Nuala had the bandit leader on the ground, her sword to his neck. Several bandits lay on the ground beside him, either dead or wounded. The rest had turned tail and run. Nuala leveled a steely gray glare on the bandit lying prone beneath her blade, scowl twisting her lips.
"Would you like to rethink your answer?" the dwarf asked evenly as she pressed her sword point into the man's throat, causing a small line of blood to well at the opening and slide down his neck. The bandit leader squealed and tried to squirm away from the blade, eyes wide with fear. Nuala pressed just slightly harder, making the prone man wince in pain and fright. The pungent smell of urine permeated the air and Alistair felt himself scowl.
"Ugh," Morrigan muttered, hand rising to her nose. "How pitiful."
"Do not make me ask you again," Nuala growled.
"Who—Who are you people?!" the bandit leader gasped.
Braden stepped forward, the bottom of his staff hitting the ground by a downed bandit with a thud. He leaned over the leader with a bored expression on his face, lips downturned in a frown. "We're Grey Wardens."
Shock registered on the leader's face before his features contorted with rage. "You! You bastards killed the king!"
What? Alistair stepped forward, his own face morphing to mirror the emotions the bandit leader was expressing. "Wardens did not kill the king! Cailan died because Loghain quit the field and allowed him and the rest of the Wardens to be massacred by the darkspawn!" he growled, hand clenching around the hilt of his sword.
"Good riddance," the leader spat, glaring at Alistair. His gazed moved to Nuala, determination shining in his angry eyes. "Kill me then. I won't turn myself over to traitors of Ferelden."
Nuala said nothing, her face a blank mask as she slit the man's throat.
Nuala
This was what she had feared. Guin and she had said something like this would happen. They knew Loghain – in his paranoia and prejudice – would be afraid that the Wardens were conspiring with Orlais and were to be branded traitors. But to be blamed for the King's death? It meant only one thing. That Loghain had staged a coup. She felt like she'd been thrown back to that moment Bhelen and her father had found her in the Deep Roads after she'd discovered Trian's body. Twice now, she'd been an instrument in a plot to help another gain power. She didn't like that.
Her fist clenched around the hilt of her sword and her scowl deepened. He was going to be a much bigger problem than she originally thought. Braden was right, they would have to deal with him before fighting against the archdemon. There was no way they could beat the twisted old god in a country that was on the brink of civil war with half of its military strength decimated.
Her grey gaze turned to Guin to see if the noble woman had come to the same conclusion. She looked troubled, arms crossed across her chest, hands clenching her biceps. Her bottom lips was between her teeth, a habit Nuala had noticed when they'd entered the tourney together years ago. She always did that when she was troubled or thinking about something. Dark eyebrows furrowed over green eyes, whose gaze was fixed on the dead bandit. After a moment, her gaze lifted and found Nuala. She nodded slightly, expression still troubled.
"How could they think we killed the king? The Wardens were wiped out too!" Braden exclaimed, glaring down on the body of the bandit leader before looking up to his companions for an explanation. While Braden was smart – especially when it came to magic or things found in books – he had little to no knowledge of how the world outside the Circle was.
"Exactly," Nuala replied quietly, a sigh escaping her.
"What do you mean?" Alistair demanded, turning away from the bandit leader and toward Nuala. He was angry – angrier than Nuala had expected or ever seen him be.
"She means that no one would be able to discredit Loghain, should he decide to make that claim and take the throne," Guin answered tiredly. She lifted a hand to her forehead, eyes clenching shut as she rubbed the skin there. "The Landsmeet will not accept this. He's basically started a civil war. If my father were still alive—" She cut herself off suddenly, eyes snapping open as her hand came to her mouth. Tears swam in her eyes and pink tinged her nose and cheeks, but no matter how hard she fought against them, the tears fell.
Alistair put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly, concern shining in his honey-colored eyes, anger almost completely evaporating from him. "Guin?"
Guin shook her head, jaw clenching, before she took a deep shuddering breath. "What if… what if Howe was working for Loghain? The Couslands have always been staunch supporters of the Theirins. If my father were alive, he would have opposed Loghain taking the throne. Him and… Arl Eamon," she claimed, now whirling on both Alistair and Nuala, her eyes wider than before and still shining with tears. "We must go to Redcliffe! My entire family was murdered – conveniently it seems – before Ostagar. Eamon is the only one left who could pose a threat to Loghain's rule. He may have already made moves against him!"
Nuala felt her eyes widen in shock. It all made sense. Why would Howe have slaughtered all the Couslands and risked the king's wrath? He wouldn't, unless he knew the king would perish and the person taking over the throne wouldn't call for his execution. And Eamon was King Cailan's uncle. If there were any two people outside the Theirin family who could have taken the throne with the Landsmeet's support, it would have been Teryn Bryce Cousland and Arl Eamon Guerrin.
"You're right. We don't have much time to waste," Nuala stated.
"But we need supplies. We won't make it to Redcliffe without bedrolls, tents, food, coin… How are we supposed to get everything quickly?" Braden asked.
"We're going to split up. Alistair, you and Guin go to the Chantry and try to find someone in charge of security to tell them about these bandits. If you can, try to get paid for getting rid of them and recovering the stolen goods," Nuala commanded, moving toward the pile of bodies behind the wagon and noticing a chest.
Guin nodded but Alistair added, "actually, the Chantry has something called a Chanter's board where people post odd jobs they need finished. That could be a way to earn some coin."
Nuala bobbed her head in approval. "Good thinking. Braden and Morrigan, head to the inn to buy provisions and find out more information about what's going on. While our theory is pretty sound, it'll be better to know for sure." Both Braden and Morrigan replied an affirmative. "And I will find a merchant to acquire whatever I can. When you have finished your task, meet outside town on the north west end," she finished. Everyone seemed set and ready to complete their individual tasks. Nuala felt a little awkward taking charge like this, but no one was objecting. Besides, leading soldiers was what she'd trained for her whole life.
Before everyone moved into the village, they assisted Nuala's search through the bandits' possessions, stolen or otherwise. Several vehement swears erupted from Alistair's mouth when he discovered the body of a templar. He recovered an amulet, muttered something about returning it to the Chantry when he and Guin went there for their errand. Morrigan and Braden picked through the bodies of the fallen bandits, finding copper and silver coins along with a few weapons they could sell to a merchant in the village.
Once everyone finished combing through the remains of the bandits' trap, they turned to continue into the village, descending from the bridge into a makeshift shanty camp the refugees had thrown together. Before they could each depart for their jobs Nuala called them back. "Since Wardens have been branded traitors, do not tell anyone who you are."
Everyone agreed before turning and heading in separate directions. Nuala frowned as she gazed at the refugee camp around her. All of these people were scared, tired, and basically running for their lives. The darkspawn had driven them from their homes… all because the horde hadn't been stopped at Ostagar. All of the suffering of these people could be directly blamed on Loghain and his decision to pull away. What's worse… with the horde heading this way, these people would either have to pick up and run again or die.
Either way, there wasn't much she could do for them now. With their numbers, her group would be slaughtered if they came up against the horde. Shaking her head, she turned away from the refugees and continued into the town. Alistair and Guin were heading into the Chantry down the road from her as she reached the top of a stone staircase, Ares trotting along beside his mistress. She could just see Braden and Morrigan on the other side of a creek heading into what Nuala hoped was an inn.
Looking around, Nuala spotted a wagon loaded down with wares, four people standing by it, two of which were facing each other. One was a man whose arms were folded across his chest. The other was a woman wearing robes that she recognized as belonging to the Chantry. Had it not been for that dwarf in the commons trying to convert people to the Chantry, Nuala wouldn't have known what the garb was for. Hoping that the wagon belonged to a merchant, she turned toward it. As she neared, she realized the two were arguing. She slowed her approached at the realization, frowning as she tried to understand what the two were arguing about.
"Back off!" The merchant shouted, moving forward and pushing the Chantry sister back. "I have the right to charge what I wish!" Frown turning to a scowl, Nuala quickened her step once again, looking to intervene, and Kali quickened her pace to keep up with her. An argument was one thing, but shoving a Chantry sister?
The woman didn't seem phased in the least by the man's aggression and spat, "you profit from their misfortune! I should have the templars give away everything in your carts!"
"You wouldn't dare! Any of you step too close to my carts and I'll –" he growled but turned at the sound Nuala's heavy-armored footsteps. "Ho! You there!" He called, waving to the dwarf. Plastering on a big smile, he continued, "how would you like to make some coin by helping a beleaguered businessman?"
"Depends," she replied, though she knew what he was about to ask and her answer would be no.
At this noncommittal answer, the sister turned to her. "He is charging outlandish prices for things these people desperately need! Their blood is lining his pockets!"
Now that was laying it on a little thick, but Nuala still agreed with the woman. Her hard glare settled back on the merchant. "Look, I just took care of some bandits on the road that were doing nearly the same thing you are to these poor people. Don't make me think you deserve the same treatment."
The merchant scowled back and replied, "I have limited supplies. Those people decide what these wares are worth to them!"
The sister whipped back to face the merchant. "You bought those same supplies from them a week ago! Now they're desperate and you want to talk business?" she shrieked.
Sighing, the man turned back to Nuala. "Look, I'll give you 100 silvers to run this rabble off, starting with the priest. I'm an honest merchant, nothing more."
"You know what I think? I think you're preying on those more unfortunate than you and hanging around a town soon to be lost in the hopes to make a few extra coins. An honest merchant would not be driving their prices up during a time of crisis and a smart merchant would recognize the time to empty his stores, take the gold he's offered, and get the hell out of dodge. Most of these people are attempting to outrun the darkspawn horde. Perhaps you should contemplate doing the same," she answered.
"Would it help these people if they could buy no goods at all?!" the merchant snapped.
"They are spending all they have to survive and you are preying on them just like those bandits outside the city!" the Chantry sister exclaimed.
Nuala growled to herself, her teeth grinding together. Did these two simpletons not hear her? The town was lost! "Are you two blind, deaf, or simply idiots? The darkspawn are coming. It would be in everyone's best interest to leave this town as soon as possible," she stated forcefully, glaring at the two. Their mouths had popped open in either shock or anger but her glower turned almost menacing and the two immediately snapped their jaws shut. Her gaze landed back on the merchant, hardening as she continued, "and you can help yourself get out of here faster by lowering your prices and selling your wares, which would help everyone evacuate."
"How does selling my entire stock at a reduced price help me?!" the merchant demanded, taking an angry step toward her.
Nuala wasn't intimidated and stood her ground, Kali growling softly beside her. "Simple. A heavily laden wagon moves slower than one that isn't. Tell me something, merchant: are your wares more important than your life? That's all the darkspawn will want from you."
The merchant glared at her for a moment before growling and throwing his hands up in the air. "Fine! I'll reduce my prices, now leave me be!" The Chantry sister gave a satisfied nod before shuffling off. Once she was gone and Nuala had not moved, the merchant eyed her angrily and warily. "What do you want now?"
Nuala lifted her shoulders in a non-comittal shrug, holding eye contact with the man. "Well, I was intending to by some of your wares but - "
"Ugh, fine but you're paying full price!"
Guin
After stopping briefly to check the Chanter's board outside the Chantry and attempting to ignore the man spouting about the end of times in the courtyard, Alistair, Guin, and Ares entered the large stone building at the center of town. Guin still felt shocked at her realization earlier. How long had Loghain and Howe been planning their hostile take-over? Why would they want to throw Ferelden into a civil war when they were still recovering from the previous war? Granted, peace had been declared between Ferelden and Orlais for ten years, and the war itself over for twenty-eight years.
Alistair paused just inside the doorway of the Chantry and Guin almost ran into him, so wrapped up in her thoughts as she was. It was then that she realized he had been speaking to her.
"- all these people in town and there are only three tasks on the chanter's board," he stated. Guin rushed to recover, pretend that she hadn't been lost in thought. She didn't want Alistair to worry more about her than he already did.
"I guess that is a little strange. At least these are paying in actual gold though. Something we can really use right now," she replied looking around. She wasn't entirely sure what they were expected to be doing other than finding the templars and letting them know about the bandits. It wasn't much of an assignment so maybe they could finish their task here quickly and get started on the chanter's board jobs. "So, we're supposed to talk to someone in charge here about the bandits. Should we find the local Knight Captain or Revered Mother?"
Alistair sighed, hand coming up behind his head to scratch at the short hairs at the base of his skull in a gesture Guin recognized he did when he was uncomfortable. "While I would prefer to deal with the Knight Captain, if we want to be paid for taking care of a problem the templars should have gotten to, then we need to talk to the Revered Mother," he answered, frowning. Another resigned sigh escaped his lips as he turned back to face into the heart of the building.
The place was crowded with refugees and villagers taking up pews and lining walls. There was barely any standing room, but somehow the templars and sisters managed to move about the room and administer to the people's needs. As Alistair and Guin began to move up the aisle toward the altar of the Chantry, a templar spotted them and moved to intercept them. He was tall with shoulder length brown hair and tanned skin. A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth, stress and exhaustion clinging to his features.
"No. There is no more room here for refugees. You need to move along," he stated sternly, brooking absolutely no argument.
"Uh… we're not here to stay," Alistair offered.
"Actually," Guin stepped in, "we were here about a service my companions and I provided to the people of Lothering and were hoping to receive payment."
The templar looked at her incredulously, demanding, "what service?"
"There were some bandits camped out on the road just outside of town-" Guin started but an angry, exasperated breath wooshed out of the templar.
"Again? I don't know how many times we've driven them off!
"No, you won't have to drive them off again. We took care of them for you," Alistair finished. "They thought my companions and I easy targets and fought to take what we had." Then he dug into his pockets and fished out the amulet he'd pulled from the dead templar earlier. "Also… the bandits killed one of yours. This belonged to him," he stated somberly, handing the amulet to the armored man.
The templar took the necklace and examined it before shaking his head. "The name inscribed on the back here is Ser Henric, not a name belonging to any templars from this chantry. You might want to talk to that knight over there. He came in from Redcliffe a few days previous in the company of a templar," he offered, handing back the amulet to Alistair and indicating a man in common chainmail armor standing on the opposite side of the Chantry. Guin noticed Alistair's eyes widened at the mention of Redcliffe before his head swung to gaze in the direction the templar had pointed to.
"Ser Donall?" Alistair wondered aloud before wandering across the Chantry to speak to the other knight.
Guin paused, at a loss as to whether or not she should follow him or go ahead and conclude their business with the templar. They still hadn't been paid for getting rid of the bandits. So she turned back to the armored man, a bright smile on her face. "We also brought along with us the items they stole from the people passing through. Maybe you would know who to ask so these items could be returned to their rightful owners? Or is the Knight Captain or Revered Mother available so I could speak with them?"
"I am the templar in charge here. Ser Bryant, if it pleases you," he stated with small bow. "And I will be willing to pay 20 silver for your help with the bandits."
Guin smiled at him and bowed her head in thanks before handing him the small chest they'd found with the bandits. "This is everything we found with the bandits. We don't know the people around here very well so it would be difficult for us to return these. Thank you so much for your help."
"No, thank you, Lady…?" he replied while he offered the silvers but trailed off. It was then that Guin realized she hadn't introduced herself.
"Oh! It's Guin," she replied, not sure she should reveal she was possibly the last living heir of the Couslands. Her given name, while not terribly common, wouldn't reveal who she was and thus kept her party safe if Howe was still looking for her. Ser Bryant nodded and repeated his thanks before turning back to continue his duties. Guin pocketed the coins and moved to rejoin Alistair, who was conversing intensely with the knight from Redcliffe. This knight was not as tall as Alistair, with dark hair and a thin face. He also seemed tired, worried, which Guin supposed wasn't completely unheard of given the circumstances.
"You're searching for the Urn of Sacred Ashes? But, that's just a fable, isn't it?" Alistair was asking in a hushed whisper as Guin approached. Ser Donall nodded, but shuttered his expression when Guin neared, eying her suspiciously. Alistair, who noticed the change in the knight, turned and spotted Guin. "Oh, finished with the Templar? Was he able to tell you who to talk to concerning the bandits?"
Guin nodded, "he actually was able to pay me 20 silvers for our service and took the stolen goods to be returned to the refugees."
Ser Donall looked between the two of them, eyebrows raised, before asking, "is she a friend of yours, Alistair?"
Alistair turned back to the knight, pinking slightly at the other man's expression, which had turned slightly suggestive. "Ah, yes. Guin, this is Ser Donall, a knight of Redcliffe. Ser Donall, this is Lady Guinevere Cous-" Guin's elbow to the Grey Warden's side cut off his introduction, but she feared he'd already given her away. His surprised and pained amber gaze locked with hers but she instead turned back to the knight.
"It's good to meet you," she stated. Ser Donall appeared amused, but nodded in greeting, murmuring 'it's an honor my lady,' quietly.
"Guin," Alistair stated, drawing her attention away from the knight. His expression was serious, grave. "Arl Eamon has fallen ill." Shock caused Guin's eyes to widen. She glanced back to the knight, hoping she'd heard wrong, but the expression on Ser Donall's face mirrored Alistair's.
"I heard you mention the Urn of Sacred Ashes… it's that serious?" she asked. The Urn was a myth, but it was believed that just a pinch of the ashes - Andraste's ashes to be exact - would cure any illness.
"Lady Isolde is desperate. She sent all of Redcliffe's knights save a select few out in search of the ashes. Only… I believe we're chasing after a fable. With each day that passes, my hope dims. Now that I know of Ser Henric's fate, I plan on returning to the Arlessa and telling her this quest is impossible. Nothing I've discovered leads me to believe the Urn ever existed," Ser Donall replied.
"I am sorry about your friend," Guin offered before turning to glance at Alistair. "With Arl Eamon ill… I'm not sure we will have any allies against Teryn Loghain amongst the nobility."
Alistair's brow furrowed, his jaw clenched. "There's still Bann Teagan but what if Loghain caused the Arl's illness somehow?"
"Arl Eamon fell ill before the king died…" Ser Donall started before he scowled and shook his head. "But what if he'd planned for that too? Such thoughts do not sit well with me!"
"Guin, we need to get Redcliffe, quickly," Alistair added urgently. Guin's expression turned grim, but she nodded to the ex-templar. Given her discussion with Alistair about his upbringing, she was beginning to understand how important Redcliffe and Eamon was to him. Not to mention, if Loghain did have anything to do with this, they needed to find out.
Braden
As soon as Morrigan and Braden stepped foot into Lothering's small tavern, they were approached by three armored gentlemen. Braden could see two more archers hanging back but their gazes had locked onto the newcomers.
"Look what we have here, men. It seems the Maker has favored us," one of the men started, hands held up and indicating Morrigan and Braden.
"Who are you, exactly?" Morrigan demanded, golden glare both intimidating and unimpressed by the men before her.
Ignoring the witch's comment, one of the soldiers leaned toward the first and inquired, "didn't we spend all morning asking for people with this man's description? The others must be here in Lothering somewhere."
"Gentlemen!" a Chantry sister exclaimed from a table to the side of the tavern. She stood and turned toward them, a winning smile spread across her full lips and blue eyes sparkling with something other than the Maker's love. "Surely, there is no need for trouble. These people are no doubt just poor souls seeking refuge," she continued, making her way over to Morrigan's and Braden's side. Her voice was accented, it sounded Orlesian.
The first soldier turned his glare to the red headed Chantry sister, growling, "they're more than that! Now stay out of our way. If you protect these traitors from Loghain's justice, you will face the same fate!"
"Oh joy, fanatics," Morrigan stated sarcastically, hand reaching over her back to grasp her staff.
Braden shrugged, grabbing his own staff as well. "If you are so eager, then let's get to it. I'll admit, I'm excited to win my first bar fight."
The fight was hilariously short. As soon as Loghain's soldiers realized they were dealing with not one, but two mages, the two archers that hung back threw down their weapons and ran. Morrigan began flinging ice at one of the remaining archers. To Braden's immense surprise, the Chantry sister whipped out two wicked looking daggers from somewhere in her robes - seriously, where the fuck did she put those? - and engaged the first soldier who was wielding a sword. She twirled around the man slicing as much of him as she could reach and lithely staying away from his claymore. That left one last soldier for Braden, who began summoning fire to his fingertips and throwing it at the man.
Morrigan's target was dead within seconds of her engaging him and she turned to help Braden dispatch his. By the time they finished ganging up on the last soldier, they moved to assist the Chantry sister only to find that she had her opponent pinned to the floor with her daggers at his throat.
"Allright! You win!" he cried, panic in his eyes.
Braden approached, returning his staff to the holster on his back and saying, "was that it?"
"You've learned your lesson, then? You will stop fighting?" the Chantry sister demanded, pressing the dagger more firmly into the man's throat. The man could only nod. At his full surrender, the Chantry sister stood and moved to the side, allowing him to stand.
"What if he scurries back to Denerim and reports to his precious Loghain?" Morrigan demanded, golden glare hard as she stared at the soldier and her fists clenched around her staff.
"Please! Wait!" the soldier begged, hands flying up in both surrender and to ward off Morrigan.
The Chantry sister stepped forward, slightly blocking Morrigan from harming the man. "Stop! He has surrendered and you have killed his companions! They were no match for you so leave them be!"
Morrigan sneered at the woman in disgust before turning to Braden and stating, "this man is your enemy and would have killed you whether you surrendered or not. He does not deserve any sympathy."
Braden scowled, caught between wanting to retain the Grey Wardens' good name and impressing Morrigan. Ultimately, his conscious decided to step in. He locked eyes with the man and ordered, "start running. If you make it back to Loghain, tell him we know what really happened at Ostagar and that we're coming for him." Terrified, the man nodded and stumbled out of the tavern, tripping over his own feet and nearly running face first into the door.
Morrigan rolled her eyes before turning toward the tavern counter. "Now, we may finally complete our task. Maybe if we don't stop to spare anyone else's lives, we may be able to defeat the Blight," she said annoyed, before marching off to acquire food and what ever else she could get from the owner of the tavern. Braden sighed dejectedly. Was there any pleasing that woman?
A throat clearing startled Braden out of his momentary distraction and he turned back to see the Chantry sister staring at him expectantly. "You're a Grey Warden, right? You need help against the Blight, so I've decided to come with you."
For a moment, Braden thought he had misheard. "I'm sorry?" he asked after another second of confused silence.
"Your group, the Grey Wardens? They were massacred at Ostagar and only three of you are left, yes? You need help so I'm coming along," she reiterated.
"Ah, I mean we do need help, but-"
"It's settled then! I'll just need to get my things from the Chantry and I'll meet you on the road out of here. I'm sure you'll be camping on the road since there is no room left anywhere in town. Now, where are you headed so I know which way to find you?" she asked.
"We're headed to Redcliffe, but-"
"Excellent! I'll see you tonight," she replied cheerily and began to move toward the door, her footsteps light and almost skipping.
"Wait!" he called, his voice conquering his confusion just as she reached the door. "What's your name?"
"Oh! How silly of me! It's Leliana," she answered before breezing out the door like she had not just decided to join an impossible mission that meant, quite possibly, certain death.
He had no idea how long he stood there staring at the door in dumbfounded confusion but it must have been long enough for Morrigan to conclude their business. The wilder woman stopped and stared at him before shoving several parcels of vegetables, bread, and cheese into his hands, asking, "what has gotten you to look so stupid? Finally realized sparing that man's life was foolish?"
"Uh… no. Actually, that Chantry sister decided to come with us," replied, following Morrigan out the door.
The woman stopped in her tracks suddenly and Braden barely had time to stop himself from colliding with her, jostling his packages dangerously. She turned back to him, golden eyes fierce and angry. "No," she growled.
"Hey, don't get mad at me, she barely let me get a word in edgewise," Braden retaliated, not liking being under that angry stare. It made him want to squirm, and not in a good way.
"Did you tell her where to find us? Did you make it sound like we wanted her assistance?" Morrigan pressed.
Braden floundered for a reply but was unable to come up with one that answered either of those questions in the negative. Morrigan growled again and stomped out of the tavern, moving in the direction of the open fields to the west of Lothering with Braden following behind a moment later. If she didn't think he was totally inept before, she certainly did now. He certainly did not look forward to when Leliana would show up at their camp later.
Alistair
After Guin and Alistair left the chantry, Guin went to check the chanter's board for jobs while Alistair wandered around the garden, trying to walk off his anxious worry after hearing about Arl Eamon. The blight had started to affect the vegetation, the flowers and trees turning brown with decay. Among the dying plants, Alistair stumbled upon a rosebush with one single blooming red rose. It was beautiful and vibrant and alive surrounded by all that decay as if thrived to spite the death surrounding it, protesting its lot in the world. It reminded him of Guin and Alistiar knew he couldn't leave it there to be consumed by the Blight. Using his sword, he cut the bloom from the bush and wrapped in cloth to protect it before adding it to his pack.
When he returned to Guin, she had finished reading the board and wanted to complete the chanters board tasks for a few extra gold coins for their, admittedly quite meager, coffers before joining their companions at their camp outside town. Their first task was to take out a few bandits that were harassing farmers outside town. They ended up being highly untrained and no match for a Grey Warden and a noblewoman trained in combat since girlhood, not to mention her faithful mabari. That earned them 3 gold coins.
The second task was to take care of some blight-maddened bears to make the countryside safer. That had been more challenging - especially with Alistair's still injured arm. Ares had been amazing, however, making sure the bears stayed focus on him and darting around them to keep them confused while Guin and Alistair riddled them with gashes and stab wounds. They attacked each one individually to keep their risk of injury low, but it ended up taking them a little longer. That job earned them 1 gold coin.
The final task available on the board was to recover a personal effect of a woman who had been missing for several days and presumed dead. Guin had a difficult time with this, wondering if the body they ended up finding in the fields outside Lothering was the mother of the child wandering alone outside the Chantry. He had been calling for his mother since they arrived in town. They took her amulet and returned to the Chantry, describing where the body was found so her loved ones could recover it give her a proper funeral. That had earned them 50 silvers.
All in all, Alistair felt their afternoon had been successful and hoped Nuala, Braden, and Morrigan had found success on their ends too. It was nightfall when Guin and Alistair finally rejoined their group at their camp on the road leading out of Lothering toward the Hinterlands. Three tents were arranged around a large fire. Tents! They wouldn't be sleeping out in the open air again! Well, some of them wouldn't since there were only three tents and five of them. So, Nuala had been able to purchase necessary supplies. Morrigan was cooking a stew in a pot over the fire. She seemed angry about something, golden glare fixed on the stew as she viciously ripped apart herbs and threw them into the bubbling liquid. Braden was doing his best not to look at her, but he seemed ashamed of something. Alistair refrained from commenting, not wishing to repeat his lack of knowledge when it came to cooking or more accusations of his apparent stupidity.
Nuala looked up from her bedroll and asked, "how did you two fare?"
"Pretty well," Guin answered, pulling out their sack of coins and handing them to her. "We completed the tasks on the chanter's board and returned the stolen goods to the chantry. They paid us for getting rid of the bandits, as well. It's all in there if you want to count it out."
"Also, there was a knight of Redcliffe in the Chantry. He said Arl Eamon has fallen ill and Lady Isolde sent them out in search of the Urn of Sacred Ashes," Alistair added, that ball of anxiety twisting in his stomach. It had been there since his conversation with Ser Donall, churning slowly and making his appetite almost vanish.
Nuala scowled at the news, eyes snapping to Guin. "Do you think Loghain had something to do with it?"
Guin sighed, lowering herself tiredly to the dirt and staring into the fire. "I don't know. The timing of Eamon's illness is suspect but… we won't know until we get there."
"Loghain is definitely after us," Braden supplied. "Morrigan and I fought some of his men at the tavern."
"Let them go, you mean," Morrigan growled immediately. "You still have not told them who else you met at the tavern."
Alistair felt his eyebrows raise and the insane urge to hide battling with the desire to witness the spat between the two mages. He glanced over to Nuala to see if she knew what was going on but the dwarf had simply rolled her eyes before continuing her task of setting up her bedroll.
"What was I supposed to do, Morrigan? I already told you she wouldn't let me say no! She didn't let me say anything!" Braden argued.
Morrigan's head finally snapped up from the stew, her eyes sharp as she pierced Braden with her glare. "She gave you enough time to you tell her where to find us!"
There was a girl involved in this? Oh, Alistair could not resist. "Wait… 'she'? Morrigan, you're not jealous, are y-?" Morrigan whipped her deadly glare from Braden to him, sending the somehow worldless but incredibly loud message not to finish his sentence. His mouth shut around his last word with an audible snap. Hiding sounded amazing right then.
It was just after that terrifying moment when an accented voice called, "hello!" and everyone's head turned to the source of the sound. Out of the shadows approached a red-headed woman wearing leather armor with two daggers strapped to her hips and a bow attached to her back followed by the tallest, most imposing creature Alistair had ever seen. It looked to be a qunari, but he had read that they had horns. This man possessed the signature grey skin and white hair but there were no horns.
At the sight of the newcomers, everyone not already standing shot to their feet. The woman smiled brightly, blue eyes flitting from one new face to the next. "Hi, I'm Leliana. I met a couple of you at the tavern…" she paused before her gaze found Braden and Morrigan, "there you are! I'm afraid I didn't get your names earlier. Anyway, this is Sten. The Revered Mother had him locked up for murder so I picked the lock and convinced him to follow me."
The camp was quiet for what felt like a full minute before Alistair asked, "what?"