A/N:
Just a side note, "bannorn" is both singular and plural and represents a territorial division. "The Bannorn" are specifically the territorial divisions in the central lowland region of Ferelden.
;
Carver subtly rubbed his temples, willing his headache away. No one else of the warden's party wanted to check on how Duren's conversation with his ambitious brother was going, if it had started at all. Faren was content to check on his sister, nephew, and drunk and ungrateful mother before excusing himself out of the royal palace. As an established warden, Faren could freely exchange letters with his sister from the surface. Which left Carver to determine by the end of the day if the party would have to escort Ruck to Soldier's Peak with or without Duren.
Carver sat in the royal drawing room with Duren trying not to make more than small talk, else his alcohol-stained breath would reveal that he had recently been drinking. Carver perked up and Duren rose from his seat when the room's doors suddenly swung open.
"Duren!" Bhelen embraced his brother on sight. "To think I would see you again! You don't know how deeply I wept when I lost you after Trian – and father soon after."
Duren and Bhelen were twin brothers, with Bhelen as the baby of the family. Duren had essentially raised Bhelen and himself while King Endrin had focused on preparing their significantly older brother, Trian, to succeed him as king. Duren and Bhelen had been nigh inseparable.
Had been.
"Bhelen." Duren slowly removed himself from Bhelen's arms. "What you've done, I cannot repeat. The family herbalist reported that Lady Brodens, the one who changes father's bedsheets, had suffered a sickness a few months ago, now recovered with the help of a mage's potion. I recognise the recipe as an antidote for the King Killer. The entire Aeducan line has suffered by your hand."
"Ah." Bhelen lowered his arms. "I knew you would make sense of everything. You also know how Trian would have led our people, and you – you would have compromised."
"I know." Duren nodded. "Which is why I also know that it's best for me to leave for the surface."
"What!?" Bhelen looked as if he had been slapped. "Y-You just returned! If you want to send out criers with the truth, do so. I am the king, I can handle slander. Just stay with me – and your nephew. Think about your nephew!"
"I've had time to think," Duren replied. "Removing me from your life was the best thing to happen to you. We have reached the point where I must remove you from mine. I will not speak out against you or stay in Orzammar where you live. I will not have my funeral, join the Legion of the Dead, and eventually pass away fighting darkspawn under your command. Peace awaits me beyond your reach." Duren stepped away. "Long live the king."
Bhelen grabbed Duren's arm. "Wait, brother."
Duren twisted his arm free and turned away.
Bhelen's face betrayed raw panic in realisation that Duren was completely serious. The king chased after Duren and grabbed at his limbs, willing him to stop. Carver awkwardly shot up and opened the doors for Duren, vainly averting his eyes to give them privacy and wondering what he was supposed to do.
"Stay," Bhelen's voice shook, "please, Duren — I beg of you. I'm sorry for what I've done. Let me make it up to you. I-I'll put up memorials in father's and Trian's names. I'll do anything! I've missed you, brother. I need you!"
Bhelen hadn't realised what he had been blessed with until he had erased his father and brothers from his life. Now at the chance to reclaim one of them, the king was trembling like a desperate child. He had forgotten what parental and fraternal love had felt like, and Duren had originally been the source of both.
Bhelen fell to his knees, anchoring himself on Duren's legs. His crown slipped on his head. "I beg you to forgive me. I-I'm sorry, Duren. So, so sorry."
Duren gently freed his legs. "You're getting exactly what you wanted, Bhelen. No fathers, no siblings. Just you on the throne. This is your punishment." He placed a hand on Bhelen's tear-streaked face. "I forgive you."
Bhelen wept after Duren, collapsing to the ground with an outstretched hand. "Duren…please! Duren!"
Carver followed Duren out of the royal palace, the former prince quietly signalling to the guards to close the doors after them and give Bhelen space.
Duren ran a hand down his face as the two of them walked Orzammar's streets in silence. "…Do you have siblings, Ser Carver?"
Carver paused. "An older brother and a younger twin."
Duren glanced at him. "Are they doing well?"
"I don't know," Carver honestly replied. "If I had to guess—" He stopped himself.
"You seem adept at guessing," Duren offered.
Carver swallowed. "Not well. But I also know they must be working their way through challenges. Building themselves up. I don't think I have to worry."
"Yet you still worry." Duren softly commented.
Yeah, Carver still worried.
The warden's party departed from Orzammar with new additions in tow. No one objected when Carver suggested that they take a break across Lake Calenhad before heading to Soldier's Peak.
Wynne confirmed that Dagna was prospering in the Circle's enchantment studies. There was also news of the bookish mage who had led Carver to the tower basement; the young man, Finn, had departed with a dalish hunter of Clan Elnora seeking texts of ancient elven artefacts. Given the Wardens' alliance with all peoples, Irving had grasped the importance of not obstructing the Dalish's recovery of their culture. In Wynne's absence, Irving had permitted Finn to indefinitely assist the hunter Ariane in her task. Carver side-eyed Morrigan at the news but she merely raised a brow. Hopefully that meant the witch hadn't stolen said texts and left Ariane and Finn on an endless search.
At one point, half of the warden's party piled on top of Shale at Lake Calenhad's docks and simply soaked up the sun and the sound of lapping water. When Oghren reunited with his first love — again and again — no one minded spending more time outside than in the tavern where they were staying.
Elissa taught Faren, Duren, and Ruck how to skip rocks across the lake. Alistair joined Sten in "training" Dog, though it more resembled playing. Zevran called Sten a big softie, quietly and not to his face. Wynne noticed Morrigan's weakness for shiny objects and showed her jewellery she had bought in Orzammar. Carver suggested they also seek Leliana's input on fashionable patterns, once they met up with her. The bard had already shared her thoughts on clothing that revealed Carver's arms.
By the time the party arrived in Soldier's Peak, they felt marginally rejuvenated from their experience in the Deep Roads.
The fortress at the top of Soldier's Peak had transformed.
A variety of plants from large to small had grown around and throughout the entire keep, such that they were both breathtaking and solidified the structure as strongly as mortar could. Trees twisted in and out of the fortress, running up walls and stretching out leafy canopies that curbed the sun and rain. The highest point of the keep was in fact a tree as large as an average Brecilian oak, such that multiple stories of rooms could be carved into the tree if desired. Flowery vines like orchids grew on the sides of the trees and on their exposed roots, as long and thick as a man-made bridge. Shattered stairs were actually replaced with buffed roots that were kinder to aching knees and wheeled carts.
Underground in the fortress's ruined basement, overlapping roots and bristled berry bushes formed a natural barrier against spiders. Aside from the bushes, the fortress also hosted vegetables and fruits that grew in the dirt, off stalks, and from trees. Poison ivy guarded the fortress's borders, and seasonal plants that repelled bugs were planted throughout the fortress's livable spaces, ensuring they were bug-free all year round. Due to the fortress's entire ecosystem of plants, flowers clothed the mountaintop through every season.
Soldier's Peak had become a must-see tourist location for locals. Carver even noticed foreign merchant families crowding the open markets of the mountain on his way up. Excited whispers rippled through the village growing at the bottom of the mountain and up its path to the fortress when the villagers realised that Elissa, Alistair, and Faren were wardens. Respect, awe, and gratitude coloured the people's faces as they waved at the party. Most of the original settlers had been escaping the population overflow in areas close to the southern Line.
At the top of the mountain, people in armour and dyed robes stood guard from the fortress's ramparts and let the warden's party in when they announced themselves. Solona and Leliana welcomed them into the keep.
"It has been too long," Leliana groaned as she picked everyone up in a hug.
Solona followed suit with one-armed hugs. "It has only been a few months."
"Too long," everyone who had travelled the Deep Roads suddenly spoke in unison.
Solona blinked.
Elissa introduced their guests, particularly Ruck and his ailment. Solona's steel-blue eyes softened as she embraced the dwarf with unconditional warmth.
"You will find peace here, brother," Solona murmured. "I swear it."
Ruck loosened in her grasp, his eyes teary. "Pretty lady speaks soft words."
"Only the truth." Solona rubbed his back.
The party caught up in the main office, which was originally Faren's and now recently Solona's. So far the wardens of Soldier's Peak were concerned, the office belonged to whoever was responsible for the keep. Solona was happy to hand it back over to Faren, who had built rapport with the former mages and werewolves composing their present forces. Solona and Faren explained to the party that the former werewolves had been the ones to redecorate the mountain. The humans knew how to encourage root systems that stabilised the earth and regulated water flow so that everything smoothly grew and worked together in harmony. Blanketing a patch of land with flowers was child's play to them.
Leliana also revealed that her past as a bard had caught up with her, to her regret. Her old mentor and lover, an Orlesian patron of arts named Marjolaine, had rallied fellow bards together and attempted to assassinate Leliana out of an unfounded fear that Leliana would strike at Marjolaine first. Several wardens in the keep had perished in the crossfire. Marjolaine had taunted Leliana till the end, hissing that Leliana was someone who sought cutthroat moral challenges because that was how Marjolaine had made her.
Solona had burned Marjolaine's hair off. Leliana had stabbed Marjolaine in the chest.
Elissa dismissed Leliana's apologies and expressed relief that she was alright. Letters would be sent out to the families of the fallen, and memorial services would be conducted later that month. The party took the opportunity to determine their next steps and redistribute their work. Wynne confessed she needed to rest for a while after the Deep Roads and catch her breath. Shale offered to stay with her. The golem spoke flippantly of what she had learned of herself and golems, but Shale was visibly pleased whenever she introduced herself to a former mage in the keep who wanted to adorn her in crystals.
"I am Shayle," the golem would enunciate proudly.
Elissa sent off a letter to Duncan reporting that the party had glimpsed the archdemon in the Deep Roads, though where it had gone since and where it would go in the future was a mystery. Following that, the last people group to apply the ancient treaties to was humans. When Elissa prodded Carver on the state of the bannorn, coastlands, and Denerim, he winced.
With a glance, everyone except Elissa and Alistair — the wardens assigned to Carver's mission — left the room. Carver then reluctantly shared the last reports he had received of Ferelden's political landscape: the Cousland legion split between Highever and northern highways; the Kendells legion active in the northeastern highways and meek in Denerim; the king's army stretched thin from Denerim and Ostagar. A remnant of the Howe legion was preying on travellers in the south as bandits.
Fortunately, Queen Anora was maintaining an illusion of status quo before foreign relations, effectively watching over the kingdom in her husband's absence. The party's best bet was to show Anora the ancient treaties, thus granting both Anora and the party the legitimacy to move forward in the blight.
The two wardens stared at Carver's influence.
"Maker's breath," Alistair gaped.
"You're supervising Ferelden," Elissa realised.
Carver opened his mouth in rebuttal.
"The queen does what she can because you enable her," Elissa continued.
Alistair furrowed his brows in thought. "Knight-Commander Greagoir obviously had a hard enough time keeping track of the Circle…. Soldier's Peak is twice that size…. Solona and Faren also report to Duncan…."
"I just facilitate communication," Carver protested. "Look, I'm sharing a glimpse of my work with you because—"
"Because?" Elissa leaned in.
"I've been evaluating you two," Carver finished, "since Warden-Commander Duncan assigned you to me in Ostagar. I've come to the conclusion that you both are worthy of this level of trust."
The two wardens quieted.
"Even in the Deep Roads," Elissa murmured, "you were thinking about the mission."
Alistair sat back, stunned. "How do you even compute all this? How do you line up the chess pieces and come out with the best outcome? Maker, I had no idea if we were going to survive Redcliffe — never mind our search for the bloody Anvil!"
"I trust you two," Carver emphasised, "to keep what you've heard a secret."
"I'm sorry — what!?" Elissa spluttered. "The person I've been travelling with through the blight is a super genius keeping Ferelden afloat, and you expect me not to treat you differently? Or accidentally leak it to anyone?"
"I'd rather you not," Carver cut in. "Treat me differently. Or leak it. Besides, I'm no genius. Half of what I do is luck."
"No wonder you were shy in the beginning," Alistair groaned.
He was what?
"Fine." Elissa pouted. "I'll try not to show my shock at all this. But I'm telling Dog."
"Same on both," Alistair added.
Carver took the opportunity to survey the fortress and send out a few non-critical letters. The fortress's rookery stood as its own spire blanketed in large, flat ivy and guarded by two warden recruits. When a gentle breeze wasn't rustling leafy vines, a raven was cawing its way in or out of the rookery's peak.
"Carver," one of the guards hailed with a nod. Along with the lack of a knightly address, the guard must have been under the same assumption many others shared.
Carver halted. "Am I expected?"
If the two recruits were guarding a point of communication, it was possible that Solona had identified Carver to them as an ally who was free to walk in at any time of day or night. However, the recruits would have then known Carver's rank.
The guard shook her head. "You are the soldier who cleared the fortress with Warden Faren and the others. We mage recruits remember you."
The other guard looked over. "This is the one? He's also a warden, isn't he?"
While both guards wore straps commonly used for holding a quiver over one's shoulder, only the other guard had a quiver and bow. The first guard had a staff.
The mage recruit shook her head. "Wardens can't serve other institutions. Carver is just a soldier."
Carver glanced at the other guard. "I believe the two of us met in a forest." Zathrian had mistakenly called Carver a warden while in the company of werewolves.
The other guard's tone of agreement confirmed Carver's hunch. "How is he also a Templar then?"
The mage recruit crossed her arms proudly. "That's just the way the song goes. Templars should endeavour to be like him."
Carver awkwardly cut in. "Sorry, have we met?"
The mage recruit blinked. "No?"
"Right…." Carver excused himself and moved on with his tasks.
An aside with Solona shed light on the behaviour Carver began to notice. The mage recruits who had interacted with Carver during the clearing of Soldier's Peak had apparently not been shy with what they knew of him. Their accounts had led to the mages in Soldier's Peak sharing a common tolerance for this "Carver of the king's army." He had apparently been named after the Templar who had helped his mage father escape the Circle. Such kindness had not escaped this Carver, either, as he had purportedly discovered the true origins of the Templar Order and carried it in his heart. Carver was living proof that mages and non-mages could coexist harmoniously.
Solona further revealed that Carver's deduction on the origins of the Templar Order had impacted the mage recruits' conduct, and Solona's time managing Soldier's Peak had only deepened the impact. According to Solona and a few whispered claims from the recruits, suicide previously killed Kinloch Hold mages more than demons. At Soldier's Peak without Templar surveillance, the mage recruits were now beginning to learn how to counsel their troubled and open up with each other.
The ex-werewolf recruits were a more private sort, tight-lipped on their lives before having been recruited, and indeed the idea of counselling was foreign to the mage recruits. Still, an effort could be seen. Solona and Leliana especially facilitated it.
Carver seized the chance to apologise to Solona for his conduct around her, only for Solona to return his words. The two cousins gradually but firmly reconciled, complete with Solona displaying to Carver the shapeshifting abilities she had learned from Morrigan's wisdom. Carver warmly supported her. Having faced just one broodmother, his useless protectiveness of Solona had grown. For now, he had to just be content that Solona was alive and recovering.
He could do without her teasing about his armour. Solona had picked up a few traits from Leliana. Still, it meant much to Carver that Solona recognised he was following through on his promise to her.
The warden's party eventually settled on their composition for their journey to Denerim. Faren would stay in Soldier's Peak as the Grey Warden in Charge, in Carver's words. Since no one could grant Faren a rank, Carver drew enough of a parallel between Faren's duties and Special Agents in Charge to nickname the rogue as a GWC. Solona would also stay in Soldier's Peak to focus on her patients, Ruck and Wynne, now that Wynne's energy was fading even with the help of her spirit. Shale decided to take the opportunity to stay and work with Solona on possible ways to restore Shale to an organic body. The decision had surprised everyone except Oghren. In the meantime, Duren declared himself Ruck's guardian for the extent of Ruck's treatment.
Carver ended up leading Elissa, Alistair, Morrigan, Leliana, Sten, Zevran, and Oghren to Denerim. The wardens and villagers of Soldier's Peak waved them farewell as they departed. Cousland legionnaires ensured their safe passage through the highways. When they finally arrived at the main gate of Ferelden's capital, Carver was surprised to see a welcoming party awaiting them.
The warden's party slowed to a stop before a group of soldiers from the royal legion and one member of Maric's Shield. The soldiers except the Shielder saluted.
Carver lifted his hand. "At ease. Ser Rhiannon, I wasn't expecting this."
The grey-haired knight and the soldiers lowered their arms. "I received your letter saying you were on your way here, ser. I thought it prudent to prepare for your arrival."
Elissa stepped forward. "If it's alright, my party and I can just stay in the old Grey Warden compound here."
Rhiannon winced. "Exactly. Due to safety concerns, Ser Carver, I've approved for the residents of Denerim's alienage to move to the old warden compound. They still have access to the alienage space, of course. I understand that the wardens have relocated to a mountain in the Coastlands."
Carver's mind raced. "Who are the people who moved to the compound?"
Rhiannon shuffled a paper from the stack in her hands and held it forward. Carver could feel the party's eyes as he accepted it.
"Hm." Carver skimmed the list of elvish names. "Do you have a political map of the compound's district?"
Elissa and the rest openly stared as Rhiannon readily provided a detailed map and presented it to Carver. The woman had expected she would need to provide insight to any of Carver's unusual and specific questions. Carver ran a finger between the old warden compound, the alienage, and the Kendells estate.
Carver glanced aside. "Warden Elissa?"
Elissa blinked. "I'm glad the compound is being put to good use. Our alternative is to stay in a tavern."
Carver handed the list of names back. "Arl Urien would also approve."
"He would?" Elissa asked, surprised.
Rhiannon took the list and shook her head in disbelief. "I don't know how you do it, Ser Carver. You were right about the half-elven girl, Amethyne—" She hesitated with a glance at the party.
Next to her, Satin smirked. "We have a lot to catch up on, Postboy. Your room in the army fortress is restored, along with cabin space for the warden's party."
Carver gestured. "Ser Charis, please escort the warden and her party to their accommodations."
Elissa picked up that the king's army had information to privately discuss, and led the party behind Charis for the army fortress. Carver followed Rhiannon and Satin to Rhiannon's office, soldiers saluting them as they passed. Satin closed the office doors behind them with confirmation that no one would be able to eavesdrop on their discussion.
Rhiannon handed her reports to Carver. "Eight years ago, Lord Vaughan had a bastard daughter with Lady Landra's lady-in-waiting, a city elf named Iona. The daughter is whom you've identified as Amethyne," Rhiannon confirmed. "Before her passing, Lady Iona had apparently raised Amethyne on the illusion that her father had died of sickness before she was born."
Carver flipped through the papers. "How was Arl Urien's response?"
"Horror," Rhiannon admitted. "His new heir is elf-blooded. However, he has reasoned out that the alienage is part of his domain, and it wouldn't do for him to appear incompetent in the management and protection of his arling. Arl Urien has quickly begun educating Amethyne in the ways of court and other such practices required of an heir. He considers Vaughan a failure whom he had handed off to tutors since birth. Arl Urien is thus investing himself more personally in Amethyne. The girl must be flawless as for no one to be able to find fault in his heir."
"In the meantime," Satin jumped in, "Teyrna Oriana's lady-in-waiting, a Denerim native named Kallian Harthon, has left her position to participate in Amethyne's upbringing. She is apparently one of the elves Lord Vaughan had targeted before his arrest. Lady Kallian is reported to have fought 'savagely.' Arl Urien has reluctantly employed her for Amethyne's protection. On the outside, it shows the arl's good relations with the alienage and former elven denizens."
"Kallian, maiden name Tabris?" Carver asked.
Rhiannon scoured her papers for the answer.
Satin's sharp memory beat her to it. "Yes. I don't know how you keep track of all these names, Postboy."
Carver skimmed through a report where Urien had elevated his most loyal elven servant to a steward, the Fereldan equivalent of a butler. Orlais had coined the term first from the word, "botellier." Urien was determined to fix his family's image. "Did Lady Kallian's husband follow her back to Denerim? Nelaros Harthon is also a noted savage fighter."
"The young smith?" Rhiannon clarified, astonished. "I remember him when I arrested Lord Vaughan. He seemed like a sweet young man."
Satin barked out a laugh. "You met him when his fiancée had just escaped rape. The lad's probably the type to smile up until he slits your throat. Yes, Nelaros moved in to the Kendells estate with Lady Kallian. In fact, the lady's paternal cousin, Shianni Tabris, followed them back to Denerim and moved into the old warden compound with the city elves. They still tend to the vhenadahl in the alienage, but have transformed the alienage into a market square. It's benefitting Denerim's low-income districts."
Carver raised a brow. He remembered reading Shianni's name in the list of residents, but hadn't expected the last detail. "The city elves are maintaining the alienage's laws?"
"No weapons within its walls," Rhiannon confirmed. "Those who choose to reside in the alienage must observe a curfew. The square has become neutral grounds for merchants who lack a guild licence. The cutthroat nature of trade can't flourish under the local hahren's control. The city elves have meanwhile taken advantage of legal loopholes to live as normal citizens in the old warden compound."
Carver's memory stirred. He returned the papers to Rhiannon's desk and leaned over. "Where are Denerim's dock reports on international trade? I just want statistics on recurring merchants."
Rhiannon stood up and brought over a sheaf of papers from one of her many bookshelves.
Carver flipped through it, then back to flip again. "…Maker."
Rhiannon and Satin straightened. "What?"
Teyrna Oriana's merchant family had begun regularly visiting Denerim since Carver had asked her to send a letter to Empress Celene. Kallian had been Oriana's lady-in-waiting before moving to Denerim. In another timeline, Alistair or Anora would name Kallian's father or paternal cousin the first bann of the alienage.
Carver leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "Queen Anora is considering elevating the district of the old warden compound and the alienage into a bannorn."
Satin spluttered. "In Denerim?"
Ferelden's capital was an arling unrivalled in size, population, wealth, or importance. It was divided into only two bannorn, one directly under the old Kendells family and one under the royal Theirin family, and as the ostensible birthplace of Andraste, it held religious value for believers across southern Thedas. It was a bold move from the outset to draw a new bannorn into Denerim's map. How much more controversial for the bannorn to be created for city elves.
Carver could be making assumptions about Anora's possible connection with Celene, and by extension Briala. He would have to gather information on Orlais to confirm. Still, in another timeline, Ferelden's monarchy would elevate the alienage into a bannorn after an elven rebellion and elven trafficking. Carver doubted that the events of this timeline were dissuading the same decision.
"Ser Rhiannon, do you have a list of non-recurring merchants in the past twelve months?"
Rhiannon shared the reports. Tevinter names had docked in Denerim for a brief frequency before coinciding with the arrival of Oriana's merchant family. Either Fergus Cousland's connections to his mother's side of the family had seen to banning slavers from entering Ferelden, or the connections in Oriana's side of the family had done so.
Carver's head spun. Events were occurring outside of Carver's involvement. He had expected it, but not to this extent.
Carver refocused. "A new bannorn is still far in the future. Ferelden is hurting from the animosity between the Couslands, Kendells, and Howes. Ser Rhiannon, I had tasked Basket with searching for Arl Rendon in the south, and expanding north with your assistance. How's the search faring?"
Rhiannon despondently shook her head. "The Howe legion has evidently split into groups of bandits up and down the highways. The Cousland soldiers are pushing for more freedom to pursue criminals and hunt down Arl Rendon. I've explained to them that it's beyond their jurisdiction."
Carver grabbed a quill and a blank parchment. "I'm transferring leadership of the search to you. How much do you have on your plate?"
Rhiannon lit a wax stick and held it over the slip of parchment. "I'm delegating to Ser Cauthrien's army of secretaries, ser. You can trust me with the search."
Carver took out a stamp from his pouch and pressed it into the small puddle that dripped from the wax. Maric's Shield wasn't considered Ferelden's elite force for nothing. They were the only people outside of the king and queen allowed to wear and bear the Theirin crest. It meant they weren't allowed to die in combat without destroying their royal stamp first.
Carver set the parchment aside to cool. "How have the Bannorn reacted to Arl Rendon's attack on Highever?"
Rhiannon snorted. "Bann Loren vocally condemned Arl Rendon for his betrayal against an old friend out of greed and envy – and in the midst of a blight. The Bannorn houses that aren't swept up in shock and disgust are at most apathetic, seeing as Bann Loren is infamous for his fickle allegiance. However, the burning of Highever is the biggest scandal we've had in the past five years. Bann Loren and his wife had support when they fought bitterly for custody over Amethyne right up till the moment they lost."
Carver pinched his nose bridge. If he was feeling arrogant, he could believe he had created the mess. He had a responsibility to fix it.
"Ser Rhiannon," Carver straightened, "you've performed most if not all responsibilities above your level. You can expect a promotion soon. I'll put in a good word to Teyrn Loghain."
Rhiannon spluttered. "At my age, joining Maric's Shield––?"
"Just take it," Satin laughed. "Think of the benefits."
The grey-haired woman slumped. "Thank you, Ser Carver."
"Don't sound too excited." Carver's lips quirked. "Why don't you take time to meditate on this, Ser Rhiannon? Take a break from the office."
Rhiannon nodded in understanding and closed the door behind her.
Carver sighed and lowered his voice. "Did Queen Anora notice?"
Satin smugly leaned against Rhiannon's desk. "I slipped the ashes into her dinner wine – she drinks the strong stuff towards the end of the day. It should've hidden the taste. Her Majesty didn't even bat an eye."
Carver leaned back in his chair and threw an arm over his tired eyes. "Good. I have to see her tomorrow with the wardens."
Satin watched him. "How are you feeling, Postboy?"
"Why does everyone want to ask me that?" Carver grouched.
"You haven't taken a breather since Ostagar," Satin listed. "You're trying to fill in for Ser Cauthrien. You're allergic to feelings."
Carver huffed. "Do you talk to all of your superiors like this?"
"Oh, yeah. Teyrn Loghain loves assigning me laps during training."
"I'm fine," Carver stated.
Satin tapped Carver's hand as it closed. "Right. I know we're all swamped, but do you want me to check on your sister for you? Bethany?"
Carver's lips twisted. The Hawkes were someone else's only family in the entire world, and in the process of witnessing people die or lose loved ones, someone else had grown to miss them terribly. However, the reality was that the original Carver was in the Fade.
Someone else felt like a horrible thief. The idea of seeing the Hawkes in any capacity threatened to crush their lungs with guilt.
"No, then." Satin faltered.
"Go the Starkhaven," Carver muttered. "Arl Rendon's eldest, Nathaniel Howe, should be training under his mother's cousin, a chevalier named Rodolphe Varley. The arling of Amaranthine needs a lord. Swing by Kirkwall along the way."
Satin stood up and headed for the door. "What should I look for there?"
Carver sighed. "Garrett Hawke. My older brother."
Satin spluttered. "Maker, there are more of you? This I have to see!"
Carver lowered the arm over his eyes and shot up in his chair. "Don't tell him about me – don't even make contact with him. Ever since our father died, Garrett has been the family breadwinner. How he's faring in Kirkwall determines how my mother and sister are faring. We didn't part on the best of terms." Carver ran a hand down his face. "It was my fault."
"You prioritise work over family." Satin nodded in understanding. "You're not the first I've seen, just the youngest." He bumped his leg against Carver's knee. "I'll check on your family and bring back your noble. You can count on me."
"Thank you, Satin."
;
A/N:
Bhelen seems like someone who can behave genuinely loving, but ultimately prioritises his political agenda. I tried to capture that in how he treated the Dwarf Noble (Duren) and the Dwarf Commoner (Faren) origins. In comparison, someone else pursues political agendas, but they care about the people important to them more. However, they struggle with expressing themselves without blurting out the fact that they're a transmigrator who "knows the future" because the world should be a video game. Life sucks.