"You really do need more comfortable chairs in your office. Maybe I should check in with the Merchants' Guild about getting some."

"Warden Commander," Varel sighed. He rolled his eyes but Ainslee watched as a grin nearly spread across the seneschal's face; he took great pains to hide it. Such was the relationship that had developed between them over the last few months. He had a wry, if somewhat dry, sense of humor that she found endlessly endearing. The deep timbre of his voice only made it more so. "If you would, perhaps, sit in the chair like a normal person, it would be more comfortable."

"This is normal for me," Ainslee protested. One leg was slung over the armrest while the small of her back rested against the other. "The chair just needs a little more padding. And how many times have I told you that you can use my name?" I just want to hear him say it outside of an introduction...

Varel put the quill he had been writing with down. "Commander, if I start calling you by your first name, what precedent will that set for the other Wardens?"

"The others already call me by my first name… well, except for Nathaniel; he still refers to me as 'my father's killer' when he's feeling salty."

"Duly noted," Varel said as he picked up the quill and dipped it into the inkpot nearby. "Mistress Woolsey is pleased that the Grey Wardens have helped secure the Pilgrim's Path between Amaranthine and Denerim. Trade is already beginning to flow."

"The Merchant's Guild is having to pay out less to the mercenary companies hired to escort trade caravans. Hopefully, they can put that savings to good use in reopening businesses here."

Varel scratched a few names onto the parchment in front of him before setting the quill aside. "The other Wardens… they seem to be recuperating well from your recent battles."

A shiver went through Ainslee's body, though she wasn't cold. She and the other Wardens had had their fill of darkspawn of late and none of them were particularly eager to engage them again. They had delved deep into the cellars below the Vigil and, to their surprise, had found an entrance to the Deep Roads, one used by the darkspawn for their incursion into the Vigil when Ainslee had first arrived. With Voldrick Glavonak's help, they had repaired and sealed the triple set of barrier doors, assuring relative safety from a future darkspawn attack emanating from the tunnels. Ainslee had given Voldrick another item for his to-do list: find a way to build a stronger, more permanent barrier. In recent days, the guards posted at the door had heard sounds beyond the barrier, but no direct attacks upon it.

More recently, as part of their task to rebuild trade routes in the arling, Ainslee and the Grey Wardens had traveled into the Wending Wood to clean out bandit camps and push back the darkspawn that had taken up residence there. They had found their newest Grey Warden, Velanna, and something Ainslee found far more disturbing.

The Architect.

"Commander, are you all right?"

"Huh?" Ainslee brought her attention up from the parchment she had been staring at. "Um… I wish I could say yes, but—"

"Warden Commander Cousland? Seneschal Varel?"

Both looked toward the door, where one of Captain Garevel's guards saluted them. "The nobles are approaching the Vigil. They'll be at the gates in a few moments."

Ainslee and Varel stood, and she heard a deep sigh from the seneschal. "Well, Commander, it's time to meet your vassals."

"Anything in particular that I should know?" She had chosen to remain in simple attire for the meeting, leaving Varel and Gareval adorned in heavy armor. Rather than choosing a gown, she chose a simple but finely made velvet tunic and doeskin trousers with knee high boots and a scarf of ermine. She did, however, have her scabbard belted at her waist; her mother would have been both horrified and unsurprised.

"There are those that bore no love for the Howes, for one reason or another," Varel said as he led Ainslee from his chancery toward the main hall. Several members of the Vigil's staff were making sure the fireplaces were lit while others were setting flagons of wine and water out for the guests. "Others had tied their prospects to the Howes and found themselves all but ruined with his demise." He paused for a moment and looked at her with an expression of concern. "They will have no love for you."

"I understand," Ainslee nodded. She paused, looking down toward the floor for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet his eyes. "I would very much appreciate you being at my side during the ceremony. I've seen my father accept the fealty of his nobles before, but it's much different from this point of view."

A smile spread across his face. "I certainly will be at your side, Commander, have no doubts about that."

She rolled her eyes and returned his grin. "All right, you can call me 'Commander' while the nobles are here, but please consider calling me by my name at other times."

He chuckled low. "I make no promises."

Varel stood next to the Warden Commander—he couldn't bring himself to call her Ainslee as of yet—as they awaited the arrival of the arling's nobility. He worked to keep his face neutral and not betray the concerns he had for the Commander and what she could potentially face. The fact that she had killed Rendon Howe had certainly endeared himself to her, and several of the visiting nobles would also privately thank her for doing the deed.

Others, however… he would have to be certain that they didn't carry knives in which to stab her in the back, literally and figuratively.

"Garevel," Varel said, his voice low as not to attract attention. "Be sure to keep a close eye on the Commander."

"Do you suspect something?"

"They're nobility," Varel said with a small shrug. "I always suspect something."

Varel watched as the Commander smoothed out her scarf and adjusted the scabbard at her waist. He found her to be easy going when among the familiar confines of the Vigil, yet politely formal when out in the arling or Amaranthine, much as would be expected of one raised in the nobility. Diplomatic affairs still intimidated her, even after her exploits during the Blight; being the second born of a high ranking family, she wouldn't have been trained in such matters. More than likely, she had been groomed to be married off as part of an alliance.

The travails of the Blight and civil war had imparted a degree of wisdom in her that wasn't often found in one of her age and experience. Her circumstances could have turned her bitter, but instead seemed to reinforce… life. The other Wardens got on with her well; even the surly Nathaniel was slowly letting his guard down around her. Varel, too, found her a pleasant arlessa and commander, eager to ensure the arling was safe and that the decision to grant it to the Grey Wardens had been the right one.

This place has changed, he thought. For the better.

He still worried about her though. The battles fought with the nobility were far more subtle than those she had found among mercenaries, criminals, or the darkspawn. He promised himself that he would do everything he could to help her navigate those perils, not only because he was her seneschal, but because he genuinely wanted her to succeed. She had to succeed.

There was a knock on the main door entering the hall. Varel stepped closer to the Warden Commander, who turned her head slightly toward him and sighed. "And so it begins."

"Tread carefully, Commander."

For once, none of the nobles were "fashionably late," and for that, Varel was grateful. This whole affair could be wrapped up expeditiously, which was a rare occurrence in his experience. The nobles had come forward, one by one, to pledge themselves to the Arlessa and promised to aid her when called upon. He listened to each one, making mental notes as to what needed to be discussed with the Commander later.

"Of course I remember you, Lord Eddelbreck," Varel heard the Commander say, "you and my father took my brother and me on a hayride as we toured your orchards. It was a lovely day for it and I remember it fondly."

Varel watched as Bann Esmerelle, who stood nearby with Lady Liza Packton and several other nobles from the city, scoffed openly at Eddelbreck when he mentioned the darkspawn threat to the farms. "Your mud hovels can be rebuilt," she said with her usual haughty tone. "Amaranthine is the precious jewel in the crown of the arling; it cannot be replaced."

"Bann Esmerelle, I—"

The Commander held up a hand, effectively silencing Varel as he stood next to her. She turned and gave him a small smile before speaking to the Bann. "Why would you say that?"

"It's only pragmatic. Amaranthine was built over generations. Its stature and importance cannot be understated. The arling would be severely diminished if the city fell."

The Commander held up a finger at the retort that Eddelbreck was clearly forming based on his agitated stance. "What would happen, Bann Esmerelle, if those farms were suddenly abandoned? Or if the darkspawn spread the Blight to the land? Empty hovels grow no food… no food for trade and no food for those of us that live in the arling."

"I hardly think that would come to pass, Commander," Esmerelle said. "There is plenty of land to farm."

The Commander paused for a moment, her expression at first sad, then angry. "I've seen what the darkspawn and the Blight do to the land. Trust me, Bann Esmerelle, you don't want that. The arling would see famines for years. Every bit of grass within and around Amaranthine would have to be turned into cropland, and it still wouldn't be nearly enough to feed everyone. Lord Eddelbreck."

"Yes, Warden Commander?"

"You shall have whatever resources we can spare to ensure the arling's farms are safe. Food needs to be a priority, with trade just behind it."

"Warden Commander," Lady Liza said, stepping forward to stand next to Esmerelle. "Arl Howe would have—"

Varel watched as the Commander clenched her jaw and turned toward Liza Packton and Esmerelle beside her. "I do not care what Arl Howe would have done. Arl Howe is dead; his ambitions are dead. The Grey Wardens have been given jurisdiction of this arling and, as Arlessa, my word is final. We will do everything we can to see this arling thrive, and you are welcome to discuss any ideas or suggestions with myself or Seneschal Varel. You are not welcome, however, to mention that name in my presence again; it's personal, you see."

A part of Varel was secretly pleased at the Commander's retort to Liza and Esmerelle. Bann Esmerelle was always a little too high and mighty for his liking, constantly looking down her nose at those living outside the city, and seeing her brought down a notch was satisfying. However, another part of Varel grew concerned at the way the Bann's eyes narrowed and her expression grew dark as the Commander spoke to Lady Liza. She could be trouble, he thought to himself. It probably wouldn't hurt to have Garevel's men keep their eyes and ears open in Amaranthine. I can do so here.

Bann Esmerelle wrapped an arm around Lady Liza's and gave the Commander a chilly smile. "Of course, Warden Commander. We are your humble servants. Come, Liza, let us go speak to Lady Morag and Lord Guy; it's been an age since I've seen them."

As they walked off, Varel leaned toward the Commander's ear. "Careful with that one. You likely didn't endear yourself to her."

The Commander turned her head toward Varel. He caught a trace of the scent that she wore, reminiscent of the irises that grew throughout parts of Ferelden; they grew throughout the Vigil as well. It was a comforting scent and he found that it suited her well. "I don't need her to like me, but I need her to respect me as Arlessa and Commander of the Grey Wardens. Mentioning Arl Howe to me doesn't endear me to her either."

"Fair enough."

The Warden Commander moved through the crowd of nobles, stopping to chat with each for several moments. Varel and Garevel remained near the dais on the far side of the room, watching over the gathering and exchanging talk about their observations. All in all, Varel thought to himself, it was as uneventful as he had hoped, despite the words between the Commander and her vassals. He watched as the Commander wound her way toward the dais; not far away, but following, was a blonde woman with small braids in her hair. Varel stepped forward as the Commander approached.

"Warden Commander?," the woman said. "May I have a word?"

She turned to face the woman approaching, one that Varel recognized.

"And you are?"

"Ser Tamra, Warden Commander. I've come to warn you."

The interior of the Vigil was finally quiet, with all the nobles having left for either their homes or accommodations within their encampments. Garevel stood outside the chancery door with another of the Vigil's guards, while the Grey Wardens took turns patrolling the exterior of the fortress.

"Do you believe her?" Commander Ainslee asked. Varel looked to her as she stood at the mantle above the fireplace, watching the flames inside. They imparted a glow onto her face and highlighted strands of her braided hair. Despite the look of consternation on her face, she was a pleasing sight.

"Ser Tamra can be a slippery one," Varel answered. "Though her claims that several of the nobles seek to end your rule here would be within her realm of knowledge."

"I'm flattered that they've decided to spend so much coin on ousting me rather than helping others in the arling," she said. She moved from the fireplace to the chair across from Varel's desk. This time, however, she sat in the chair properly. It concerned him.

"If it's coin that's spearheading this conspiracy, then Bann Esmerelle cannot be ruled out," Varel said, pointing to a map of the regions of the arling that he had spread out on the top of his desk. "She is the richest vassal by far and it's no secret that she and Arl Howe were friendly to one another. Those that were friendly to the Bann were likely Howe's allies as well."

The room grew quiet and Varel could almost feel the Commander's rage building as she clenched her hands into fists. She sat there, fists shaking for a moment before she reached up and grabbed a metal cup off the corner of his desk and hurled it at the floor. It landed with a large clatter, bouncing once and rolling in a lazy circle before stopping completely. She sighed heavily before leaning forward to drop her elbows on his desk, her head down and shoulders slumping.

"I'm sorry, Varel. It's just… when I hear Rendon Howe's name… I lose perspective. It's hard to think of him in any other way but the traitorous, murdering bastard he was. I… don't think I can ever get past that."

Varel paused, then reached out with a tentative hand and set it on hers. "There's no need to apologize. I cannot imagine what that is like for you, nor blame you for having a visceral reaction to his name." He paused for a moment, squeezing her hand before continuing. "We will have to watch his former allies. I will do everything in my power to ensure that no harm comes to you."

In that moment, his heart heavy as he shared her loss, he realized that something had begun to stir in him. Her presence soothed him; he wanted to smile when she said his name, and he anxiously awaited for her return whenever she left the Vigil. Would she find such a thing improper? She was his commander...

The thought fizzled as he felt her squeeze his hand back. She met his gaze and gave him a small smile. "Thank you, Varel." She held his hand for a moment longer, her thumb lightly caressing his skin, then withdrew it, brushing the end of her braid back behind her head. Her cheeks had taken on a rosy hue. "It's so much easier dealing with the darkspawn, even the talking ones. At least I know what the Architect wants—to free his brethren. The nobility are a different matter entirely. I wish I was more adept at dealing with them; Fergus was the diplomat, not me."

Varel leaned back in his chair. "I had been worried for the Grey Wardens when you went to investigate the Wending Wood and the silverite mine. Hearing how the Architect wants to use Grey Warden blood—your blood—to free the darkspawn… it's madness."

"I agree," she said, leaning back and throwing a leg over the arm of the chair. Varel felt a bit of relief at the gesture; she was relaxing, and it was a good thing to see in the aftermath of the day's events. "The Architect claims that he doesn't wish to be our enemy. I'm not quite sure how that will work out, since the goal of the Grey Wardens is to protect the world against the Blight and the darkspawn incursions." She reached down to pick the cup up off the floor and poured water into it from the pitcher Varel kept on his desk, taking a long drink before settling back in the chair again. "Perhaps that's why the deep cellar under the Vigil is so quiet."

"It doesn't explain why the darkspawn keep attacking the outlying settlements," Varel said as he tapped the map of the arling near Lord Eddlebreck's lands. "Didn't you say that you had found one of the Orlesian Wardens in the mines? What was it he said?"

"That the other Wardens were dead or worse."

"Do you think the incursions are the 'or worse' part?"

She shivered in her seat, looking down into her cup of water as she was quiet for a moment. "I hope not. I can't imagine what 'or worse' means." After a moment, she drained the last of the water from her cup and reached forward to pour another one, filling a second one for Varel as she did so. "Back to the scheming nobles. What do you suggest we do?"

Varel took a drink from the cup she had filled. "Well, best to be a touch paranoid than face down in a ditch. The right of high justice is yours, and treachery is a capital offence, but we need proof. That won't be easy to gather."

She leaned forward, moving her leg off the arm of the chair and placing her forearms on the desk. "How do we gather it then?"

"There are options, some I can recommend, but others could turn the nobles fierce. Not sure we want that."

"Well," she said with a wry grin, "better men have tried to stop me before… look where they are now."

Varel chuckled and watched as her grin turned into a smile. "Loghain and half the kingdom tried to stop you last time. I supposed there's little to worry about." He paused and felt his brow wrinkle and a knot form in his stomach. "Still, I do."

He caught her gaze and saw her look away, almost shyly, before she reached forward and grasped his hand again. "I know."