Chapter 8: In a Time of Darkness and Death

Lothering was filled with refugees. People were fleeing north from the Blight, from the monsters that had ruined their life and killed their loved ones. The people there were hungry and desperate; the look they held in their eyes haunted Gwen.

They had reached out to her, grabbed her legs and pulled on her sleeves like begging children. She had pushed them away, the feeling of their bony hands still crawled over her body.

The refugees had stayed away from Leith. They looked upon him with suspicion, but no one spoke out. His hood darkened his face, making his figure look dangerous.

The refugees had nothing left, except for their slowly dwindling life. They would not risk that at the hands of revenge.

Upon entering the tavern, the overpowering smell of piss and alcohol abused their senses.

The tavern was clamoring with people, bodies were crammed against each other just to reach the counter for another bottle of booze.

It was hot and humid, making it even harder to breath with the smell. Gwen did not like it in there, in fact she almost preferred to be outside with the refugees...almost.

Gwen looked over to Leith, whose features were dimly lit by the fireplace's flames, wondering what he was thinking of all this.

Her eyes widened. He is utterly crazy, she thought.

Leith was grinning, from ear to ear. His yellowed teeth bit his bottom lip to keep him from bursting.

"What in the Maker's name is so funny?" Gwen demanded. How could he be joyful in such a disgusting place?

He pointed over to the fireplace where a group of men were circled around telling stories and drinking, "Tell me, what do you see?"

Gwen was puzzled, but answered his question anyway, "I see a lot of disgusting shit faces talking about their last conquest of a woman. I see alcohol in their hands, sloshing and staining their clothes. I see that one of them is going to fall into that fire place if they keep acting like fools."

Leith raised an eyebrow to her blatant pessimism, but his smile didn't stop, "I see friends gathered around in a time of darkness and death, sharing a drink and laughing with each other. It might be the last time they experience any joy or fun before they die. These are uncertain times," he turned to Gwen, "I'm smiling because they're smiling. If you keep frowning and complaining about how much life has gone wrong, then of course it'll never get better!"

Gwen rolled her eyes, "Great, an optimist."

"You should try it some time. A smile would look more lovely on you than that scowl," Leith slapped her shoulder playfully.

His comment only earned an even deeper scowl from Gwen. She shrugged off his hand, "Let's see if there's any rooms here."

They struggled and fought, and Gwen could have sworn someone grabbed her behind, but they made it to the front of the counter. She couldn't help but feel slightly defiled.

The bartender looked weary, keeping a mob of drunk people at bay wasn't easy, "Ar'yah gonna buy a drinkr'what?"

"Actually, we were looking for-" Gwen's voice suddenly felt very high pitched compared to everyone around her.

"No room!" The bartender's gruff voice shouted at her.

Leith stepped forward, drawing the hood further down. In his most intimidating voice he said, "I'm sure you can find a room for the two of us, isn't that right?"

Gwen wasn't sure how Leith did it, but the bartender paled and nodded. He discreetly handed them a key to the upper rooms.

As soon as they had gotten back through the crowd, Leith was back to his old self, "See that wasn't so hard was it?"

"How did you do that?" Gwen asked.

"The hood, it must be magical," He smirked.

"Must be," Gwen almost smiled back, but caught herself before the traitorous smile gave her away.

The room was small...too small. There was one bed and one chest. One door and one window.

That was it.

Before Gwen had a chance to say anything Leith threw himself onto the floor, "I call this spot!"

Gwen scoffed, "You're ridiculous. You know people have probably vomited on that floor?"

Leith shrugged and slid his hand across the floor, inspecting the dust, "Seems clean enough to me."

"You're ridiculous," Gwen said again, but the hint of a laugh could be found underneath.

Gwen looked out the window, the spreading view of Lothering met her gaze. What am I doing here? Gwen wondered. To get to Denerim. But what am I going to do there? The Wardens are all dead.

"Are you alright?" Leith asked. He noticed her staring sadly out the window.

"I'm fine," Gwen responded curtly.

There was a second of silence before Gwen announced, "I'll be at the Chantry. Don't follow me."

He gave her an arched look but didn't push her for information.

Gwen easily found the Chantry, it was the biggest building around, and to refugees, the most important.

Gwen maneuvered past the crowds of people. She hadn't been to a Chantry since Highever…

Just as it was outside, the inside was packed. People were praying, eating, and sleeping. Gwen was surprised the Chantry had enough food to feed that many refugees.

Gwen found a spot in a pew close to the front of the room. The golden statue of Andraste looked down upon her from the platform.

Gwen didn't know what she wanted to say, of course she wanted to say something but words escaped her.

I need your guidance...Do I stay here, or do I go to Denerim? I wonder at all if I'm supposed to be here. Please! Tell me what to do! I realize I've become...a different person than I used to be, but I can still carry out your divine will. Send me a sign…

Gwen rose from the pew, light headed. She looked back at Andraste who was no longer frowning at her, but held a look of suspended judgment. She would wait and see what Gwen did next.

Back outside Gwen noticed two figures arguing by a merchant's caravan. One was a woman with bright red hair, wearing a Chantry Sister robe, the other a scheming man.

Gwen inched closer to eavesdrop on their conversation.

The woman had a strong Orlesian accent and seemed to be very upset at the merchant, "These prices are killing the poor! You bought their bread not just a week ago, now you're selling it at a ridiculous price? No, you must stop this or else everyone else will starve! You can't sell to the dead."

The merchant was annoyed and infuriated at the Sister. He took notice of Gwen as she slowly approached them, "You there!" He called to her.

Gwen looked behind her, almost certain he was talking to someone else. But no, he was indeed motioning to her. He waved her over again.

He walked to the back of the caravan, whispering his deal to her, "I'll give you a discount on all my items if you can get rid of that cow." His breath smelled like decayed worms.

Gwen almost gagged on his words before stepping back, "I'm unimpressed, only a discount? Surely your scam has made more than enough money. I expect silver."

He hissed loudly in surprise, "Silver?! I'll pay you copper, no more."

"Then we're done here." Gwen walked away, happy to leave the smelly man.

But of course, the Sister also wanted her help, "You didn't agree with him did you? You saw him for the scum he is, yes?"

Gwen could tell where the woman was going, "Scum? Yes. But it was simply a matter of payment. The bastard wasn't willing to pay for my help, even though I'm sure he has enough to."

"Money?" The woman looked disappointed, "I've given all I have to the refugees, I'm afraid all I can repay you in is gratitude."

"Gratitude? I'm afraid that's not going to get me what I want. I need money not the appreciation of a-" Suddenly a thought hit Gwen. This woman was a Chantry Sister.

Gwen felt shameful and embarrassed, Andraste wouldn't want her to be selfish or callous. She walked back over to the merchant, not fully responding to the woman's request.

"Have you reconsidered my offer?" The merchant smirked, he thought he had won.

"You need to stop." Gwen demanded of him.

He laughed, everyone always laughs, "The reason I asked for your service was because I thought a woman could convince a woman, you know? But you trying to intimidate me right now?" He laughed louder, "This is just...ahaha...you're so small and pitiful looking," He pointed at her, his other hand clutching his stomach from laughter.

Gwen's cheeks burned furiously, "You think these weapons are for show?" She pulled out her dagger.

The man's loud outburst had started to amass a crowd, Gwen hadn't noticed. Her anger tunnel visioned on the man, "You are a disgusting pig. I could kill you right now. I order you to stop this scam, or leave!"

The man had stopped laughing, his face darkened, "What are you? Some self-righteous bitch? I have connections with the templars, I can turn you in...blood mage."

"Connections?" Gwen played with her dagger idly, "Hmmm, let's see. If you're dead, then I won't have to worry about that, will I?" She pointed her dagger at him, threateningly.

"What's going on here?" A voice echoed through iron amour. A templar.

"Oh, thank the Maker you're here!" The man faked an innocent voice, "This woman...she's...she's a blood mage!"

There was a gasp and cry from the crowd and the templar swirled to face her, the trigger word had been spoken.

"Wait, no! He has it wrong! I'm not a blood mage for crying out loud!" Gwen pleaded.

The man scrambled away from her, "She was about to kill me and use my blood for her twisted magic! Just look at her dagger!"

Gwen didn't have a chance to defend herself when the templar pounced onto her. They wrangled each other, heads were shoved into the dirt, and arms were broken, but the fight was lost for Gwen before it had even begun. Templar reinforcements came. They bound and dragged her into the Chantry.

Her body tumbled across the stone cold floor as they flung her to the feet of the Chantry's Revered Mother.

The Revered Mother cast a condemning gaze at her, "Set her up in a cage, by the giant. Let the Maker decide her fate."