Clan Siona was understandably crushed to learn the truth of Zathrian's longevity. As he shared the news, Carver wisely censored out the fact that the humans who had been cured of lycanthropy were currently leaving the forest through the Brecilian Passage. It was the only highway that cut through the Brecilian Forest, and primarily served to connect Gwaren with Denerim. Now Carver was sending the cured humans off down the road with a letter hastily written and signed by Alistair.

It ran along the lines of, "Found new recruits that were formerly cursed. They're good, now. Please be patient with them. You might have to teach them how to use a sword — or basic cutlery."

The letter was addressed to the only warden in Soldier's Peak:

Faren.

Hopefully, the witty dwarf and his castle of mages could also teach the humans literacy. Fingers crossed.

Lanaya sighed dejectedly. "Zathrian had always said I was ready to be Keeper, but with how long he had been around, I never imagined the day would come."

The crowd around them agreed mournfully, digesting what they had heard. Not a few were upset that the cured humans had been "set loose" to find their places in society. However, the clan reluctantly accepted that if the spirit of the forest had treasured the humans, then the humans perhaps deserved their freedom. The clan couldn't know that the humans were conscripted into the prestigious order of Grey Wardens. The Dalish were already focused on preparing to create a farewell aisle for one of their male members and his elven wife, the cured female werewolf whom Sten had converted. With the wrongs she had suffered, the clan had accepted when the couple had declared they were going to leave the clan to travel the world and make a home in Seheron.

"As Keeper," Lanaya continued, "I welcome you and the rest to participate in our farewell to Athras and Danyla. We understand you have helped them personally through this rough event."

"That's kind of you," Carver replied, "but responsibilities call us elsewhere. Please extend our well wishes to them."

Lanaya understood. "Once we recover our strength, Clan Siona will stand with the Wardens through this blight. Send for us from the Brecilian Forest, and we will answer."

Carver gratefully inclined his head. "As for the cured humans," he emphasised, "they will be starting new lives and interacting with others as humans for the first time. Their ancestry and their past lives as werewolves mustn't leave this clan."

"Children deserve a fresh start," Lanaya conceded with several nods around them. "However, we Dalish have turned away many during this blight on the basis that we had been fighting an affliction. To fellow elves, we have revealed that it was lycanthropy being spread by werewolves. What, then, do we tell anyone who asks how we survived?"

Carver's lips thinned. "Tell them…that we ended the werewolves."

Lanaya's eyes brightened with understanding. "Fen'halam," she nodded gravely. "As you say, Wolfsbane."

Er, what?

"Ser Carver!"

As the elves dispersed, the warden's party turned to see Leliana and Solona hurrying over to them. Colour had notably returned to Solona's cheeks, and the long staff strapped to her back didn't appear to weigh her down. Solona was even wearing the quiver-like straps of a Circle mage's staff sheath over her Grey Warden armour. However, like most rogues, Solona had only kept the chest, back, and shoulder pieces, protecting the rest of herself instead with chainmail over leather. While the boys were gone, the girls must have repaired her chainmail and negotiated with the Dalish for leather armour.

"You look better, Solona," Carver greeted honestly.

The woman faltered, unsure what to do with her face. Smile? Solona was predictably plagued with survivor's guilt, so the privileges of the living were foreign to her. She settled with a hesitant nod.

"I want to go kill darkspawn," Solona demanded.

Behind Carver, Alistair choked. The cripplingly shy mage had obviously changed after the horrors she had experienced underground.

Leliana helpfully interpreted, "You boys were taking too long, so we went looking for you."

"In the living forest?" Zevran emphasised.

"We found rare ironbark instead," Solona continued. "When we came back without the four of you, the Keeper left to try his hand. In the meantime, the craftsman, Varathorn, made Leli a bow and breastplate."

When crafted correctly, rare ironbark could be as tough as steel yet as flexible as wood. Leliana would never have to worry about a shattered bow.

Alistair gestured to the edge of the forest. "We have to meet up with Elissa and a few other allies in Redcliffe, first. Are you…good for Ostagar? I promise you there are plenty of darkspawn there."

Solona firmly nodded, steel in her eyes. Beside her, Leliana hesitated, then agreed that Solona was ready.

Alistair sighed and headed out, Solona following. "Very well. Let me update you on what has happened so far…."

The rest of the party trailed after them, confirming they were packed up for a trip back. Zevran amusedly quirked his brow. "Leli?"

Leliana quietly huffed. "I've been speaking closely with Solo to help her heal. We've talked about many things we haven't shared with anyone else. Nicknames are natural."

"Defensive, are we?"

"She's a nice girl!" Leliana returned, and meeped when Alistair and Solona glanced back at her raised voice. She stiffened her lip. "She's a really nice girl."

Sten grumbled while Carver lightly shoved Zevran. "They've only known each other for a few days. Don't tease her."

Leliana cocked a brow at the easy air between the boys. "It seems you've grown closer yourselves. Did Carver lower some of his walls?"

Carver whiplashed at Zevran and Sten's traitorous nods.

"What do you mean they left?" Alistair spluttered.

Teagan scratched his head while the rest of the party fidgeted behind Alistair. Apparently, the mage warden recruits had escorted not only Avernus to Redcliffe, but Brother Weylon as well upon Elissa's request. After curing Connor of his demon, Elissa had convinced Brother Weylon to allow her access to Brother Genitivi's journal, from which she had deduced the possible location of the missing scholar and the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Elissa, Wynne, and Shale had then convinced themselves that they could cut down time from the blight by healing Arl Eamon while Alistair and the others were recruiting the Dalish.

Alistair turned to Carver. "What do you know of the Urn of Sacred Ashes?"

Carver blinked. "Why do you assume I know anything?"

"You know everything," Alistair refuted. "You know what Duncan's first and second action is in a situation. Reflecting on our journey so far, I suspect you know what every member in this party will do at any given moment. You grimaced when Elissa said she'd stay behind in Redcliffe, even if it was for her arm; you must have predicted she would do something like this!"

Shoot, had Carver not been as forgettable as he had been hoping? Were people really noticing the "lowly soldier" shadowing the wardens?

Still, Alistair was jumping to conclusions.

"I didn't know she would leave for Haven," Carver corrected, "but I'm not surprised. Warden Elissa was assigned a mission, and she's going to see it through. We can only do what we have been doing, and help her complete it with our support."

In Origins, a party member could receive thirteen different types of injuries and still be utilised in battle. While Carver refused to toe the shores of assumption that led to a god complex, he understood that in a timeline where Elissa and Alistair were the only wardens left in Ferelden, they wouldn't have let a broken bone stop them from hunting down the archdemon.

Those who could be the Hero of Ferelden all shared this: they could be asked to create an army out of a few pieces of paper and utter determination. They could be demanded the will to slay an archdemon, or die trying.

And they would answer.

Every candidate for the Hero of Ferelden had it in them the ability and the spirit to win. —No, what could they do but win. Fate was too small a word to capture what was simply the only natural result for the Warden. They commanded fate.

Ferelden would unite, and the archdemon would die.

Alistair crossed his arms thoughtfully. "You didn't expect her to leave for the Urn of Sacred Ashes, which means…it actually exists?"

"I didn't think she'd leave at all," Carver deflected. "Brother Genitivi's long absence from his study — and thus journal and disciple — suggests he has either lost his way or is being held up by external forces."

Leliana recognised the scholar's name. "Brother Genitivi is well-travelled, but we are in the middle of a blight. His last intended location was Haven. Should Elissa not have hurried to rescue him and the village from potential darkspawn?"

"Not without help," Alistair commented, frowning at Teagan. "Even a warden wouldn't attack a horde with only three people and a mabari."

The bann intoned, "Redcliffe appreciates your help with Lord Connor, Warden. However, I haven't the authority as de facto arl to send a portion of the Guerrin legion to the Frostback Mountains. The legion is still recovering from possession and is replacing those lost with new soldiers. Ser Perth and the few knights left are still training them."

Alistair faced him fully. "Bann Teagan, you may not remember me. Last we met, I was decidedly muddier."

Teagan paused, recognition dawning on him. "…Alistair?"

"The little boy you knew is willing to face the blight with a stick if he has to." Alistair straightened. "I cherish Arl Eamon's safety like anyone raised in Redcliffe, but even I see the risk in allowing darkspawn to settle in the arl's domain. That is where Haven is, correct? I'm sure the people of Redcliffe would understand if part of the Guerrin legion left to protect other areas of the arl's domain."

"Haven isn't a bannorn," Teagan weakly defended. "It has no bann. How could it be part of an arling? Besides, that ensconced in the Frostbacks, it might as well sit on the borders of Ferelden and Orlais."

"Lord Connor no longer needs to be monitored by his mother," Carver stepped in. "Arlessa Isolde is free to take on burdens as the lawful de facto arl. Let's hear her thoughts on this."

Teagan dismissed the suggestion. "She wishes to care for Connor while she can, before the Circle must take him. I'll not spoil her time."

"She is an arlessa," Carver deadpanned. "She deserves to be asked her opinion, first."

Teagan had lost his sister, Ferelden's queen, before, and it seemed in his haste to protect another woman in the Guerrin family, he was straying to patriarchal views on leadership. It didn't help that Isolde herself had been conservatively raised like most women in Orlais. When the group met with Isolde in the main hall, she quietly listened to their crisis. The arlessa was moved by Carver's opinion that Arl Eamon would have sent Elissa to Haven with back-up, before the revelation of Alistair's presence distressed her.

"You would know what Eamon would do, yes?" Isolde accused. "You are his 'proper Ferelden child' after all. Teagan, are you not the current leader of Redcliffe? Why must I hear these trivialities?"

Alistair reeled back. "This has nothing to do with me! As warden, I implore you to send an infantry squad of the Guerrin legion to Haven, and help my counterpart and I clear it of darkspawn!"

Isolde held a hand up to her forehead, feeling faint. "If Teagan has denied your request, then denied it remains. Now leave."

Carver exhaled sharply. "Bann Teagan's position in Redcliffe is a result of unprecedented circumstances. However, by law, you are Arl Eamon's successor while Lord Connor is too young for his responsibilities. History knows that you're weakening the inheritance of your future children by passing off your duties like this."

"Are you not a page?" Isolde narrowed her eyes. "What weight do you expect your opinion to have in Redcliffe Castle?"

Alistair recoiled, but Carver quickly held him back with a hand. "I respect Orlais. There is much to appreciate about its history. I'm merely lost on why a woman would hesitate to protect her family and their future, when she is from the same country where a sixteen-year-old girl had impressively claimed her position as rightful empress, and still protects her people as their ruler today."

Isolde's expression shifted. From her perspective, a lowly Ferelden soldier who wasn't even from Redcliffe was conveying admiration for her homeland. She likely hadn't tried to hear her people's opinions of her, too scared to have her personal fears confirmed. Now, tentative bravery lit up within her.

She straightened. "I declared it once, and again I say: the one who delivers the Sacred Ashes of Our Lady will have the esteem of Redcliffe, and all the riches it is in my power to grant. Ser," she gestured to a soldier guarding the main hall's doors, "summon Sergeant Jory. I shall bestow him sixty soldiers and send him with the Wardens to Haven. It's time to protect our arling and cure my husband."

Near the castle's training grounds and away from Teagan and Isolde, the party collected themselves.

Sten turned to Carver. "There are no darkspawn in Haven."

Heads turned in his direction, and Carver sighed. Trust the qunari to read his subtle body language. "There might be, but they aren't the external forces I suspect are troubling Brother Genitivi. Darkspawn are drawn to populated areas, and the Frostbacks aren't exactly a vacation spot."

Alistair perked up. "So Elissa and the rest aren't in danger? Are they and Brother Genitivi being harrassed by random dwarven merchants?"

Carver shook his head. "That far removed from society, the people of Haven are intentionally avoiding human contact."

"Ah," Zevran hummed delightfully. "Now we're entering the realm of conspiracies. I do so love causing them."

"Regardless of who or what is in Haven," Carver moved on, "you must be ready. If even a false Urn of Sacred Ashes is in Haven, you can predict how such people would react to outsiders."

The party noticed his wording. "You're not coming?"

"I must update Teyrn Loghain on our progress," Carver admitted. "I've sent him letters from developed locations we've passed through, but sensitive information requires care. I've only met one fellow member of Maric's Shield through whom I can safely correspond with Ostagar."

Leliana blinked. "You have? Who?"

"It was a long time ago," Carver deflected, "in Lothering."

Solona crossed her arms. "If no darkspawn await us in Haven, then I'm departing for Ostagar. The more wardens in the front line, the better."

Leliana agreed. "I'm going with her."

Alistair ran a hand through his hair. "Then it seems we have no choice but to split up. Half of us will go to Ostagar, while the other half will catch up with Elissa and the rest. Solona, don't enter the battlefield without Duncan's permission. I say this as your senior. After delivering your intel, Carver, I assume you will follow?" At Solona's reluctant murmur and Carver's nod, Alistair sighed. "Alright then. Maker be with us all."

Giggles arose from behind Carver. Not for the first time, he ignored it. Solona and Leliana were content to trail after Carver in hushed conversation as the small party travelled east down a merchant route connecting Redcliffe with Lothering. While Leliana was most likely the only source of laughter in the group, Carver had glanced back once to catch Solona's lips curled into something that could be called a smile. It seemed that talking about shoes with Leliana helped remind Solona what it felt like to be human.

He was surprised to hear the two trudge up to his side.

"How is it?" Solona gestured to Carver's hip.

He fixed the sheathed Summer Sword. "Surprisingly light. Unwieldy. I'm still getting used to it."

"It's almost as long as you are tall," Leliana acknowledged, "and you are a very tall child."

Carver blinked. "I'm eighteen."

Leliana stared, and Solona stifled what suspiciously resembled a laugh. "I see. You have a very youthful face, Carver. It will benefit you in the long run."

Solona laid a hand on Carver's pauldron. "Especially if you wear clothes with less sleeves."

Carver slowly crossed his arms over himself. "I'm sensing a strange shift."

Solona suffered another muted cough while Leliana freely tittered. "Still, you're adjusting to Summer Sword very well. When do you think you'll be able to wield it properly?"

"I don't know," Carver exhaled frustratedly.

The king's army mainly taught their soldiers how to wield a longsword or a knightly sword, and a longbow. Since Orlais' days as a global empire, the size of a country's mounted infantry had made or broke a war. However, Loghain and his Night Elves unit had changed the game when they had proven that archery could be applied to more than covert missions. By equipping an infantry squad with longbows — a weapon normally only used by the Dalish — an army of chevaliers could be downed by a hail of arrows before they could even cross the battlefield. Ferelden had since adopted this mindset and required a soldier to know archery before they could be knighted. This prerequisite had given Carver the basic skills to employ a shortbow against werewolves, though he undoubtedly fell short to Leliana's level of skill.

As for swords, the king's army couldn't afford to equip its members with anything larger than a longsword. Like plate armour, greatswords required large ores and proportionally large furnaces, and Ferelden's industrial zones had suffered from the rebellion. To keep up with Thedas's modern-day weaponry, Ferelden had opted to prioritise producing armour over large weapons. Otherwise, one swing from an Orlesian blade could bash a soldier's head in before the soldier could make their first cut. This was why Summer Sword, which was already the greatest blade produced in modern Orlesian history, was such a prized weapon in Ferelden. After defeating its original wielder, Loghain had generously handed the sword over to Ser Cauthrien with the claim that he was more inclined towards archery and knightly swords anyway.

Like any greatsword, Summer Sword was basically a sword-shaped polearm. It was huge. The sword's fine metals already gave it a lightness comparable to a wooden spear, rescuing Carver from weakly dragging the long thing around. However, this meant he wouldn't be able to transfer his habits over to other greatswords. If he wasn't in the middle of a blight, he would have preferred to learn how to wield a greatsword properly.

As it was, he was asking Sten for pointers.

Qunari smiths crafted their weaponry to an already admirable lightness, hence the going price for qunari steel in the black market. This, combined with Sten's monstrous strength, turned Asala into a hammer and a shredder. Carver wasn't the only party member to be glad that he was on their side. However, Carver lacked Sten's might. Where Sten could wield his sword like a wrecking ball, Carver had to wield his like a surgeon.

In fact, the Qunari apparently favoured high impact infantry warfare. The way Sten described it, the Antaam required its members to be adept with uniquely strong yet light javelins crafted by their smiths, which they called "pilum." On the battlefield, an army of qunari would throw their pilum at an enemy then charge. Additionally, since the qunari painted themselves with vitaar instead of donning plate armour, they could move faster than their enemies and blitz them. Off the battlefield, the same pilum could be used to build emergency defences or carry heavy equipment. The Qun focused on utilising as much of an object or individual's purpose as possible in respect for its existence.

It was almost beautiful, if it wasn't also downright terrifying.

So.

Was Carver adjusting to Summer Sword? Yes.

Was he wielding it properly? The only way to find out was to fight another greatsword wielder.

…He never wished to find out.

"How about you?" Carver turned to Solona. "That isn't your staff from the Circle, is it?"

Solona shook her head. "This was another warden's, Richu's. She was one of the last to survive, and fought off darkspawn while I escaped."

Though Carver belatedly feared his question had been callous, Solona seemed eager to speak of her comrades, her sisters, from underground. She probably wished to share of the bravery she had experienced from them.

Solona's lips quirked. "She was the funniest person I knew. In the dark where we could barely see anything, she could make laughter sprout from everywhere. She claimed that the Dalish performed monthly orgies under the full moon to dissuade demons from haunting them. We liked to imagine that we were all Dalish going through just another ceremony. That it was merely dark because clouds were covering the moon."

Guilt and grief strangled Carver's throat, and he struggled to not react. A hum from Leliana encouraged Solona to continue.

Luckily, Solona's attention was mainly on the road ahead of them. "Some of us asked her how the Dalish conceal their Fade-touched members from Templars. She said the clans pretend that they don't have anyone like that. We're ignorant nomads, how can anyone special come from us? Oh, that? It's just a longbow or a shepherd's crook. We have to hunt and care for small flocks, you know. Maker, she was hilarious."

There was likely truth to her words, else a certain archer in the Bull's Chargers was an outlier.

"I'm getting used to her staff," Solona continued, adjusting her straps. "Especially the hooked part. At the very least, I can catch a sheep if I need to. Leliana tells me you're a farmer's boy?"

Carver blinked, refocusing. "I was, but my family were farmers by the simplest meaning of the word. Lothering's animals were only handled by ranchers." He hesitated. "You know, you can ask me about myself anytime. We are cousins."

Solona glanced at him, eyes lighting up. "I remember, now. You were at Ostagar. Your mother is also an Amell, right?" She bit her lip. "How is your family, with the blight and all…?"

Leliana perked up as well, though Carver shrugged. "They left Lothering before the blight, but I'm not sure if they've completely escaped the war, or where they are now. I hope Kirkwall."

"Or Rivain," Solona earnestly said. "I understand my family left for my father's homeland after I was taken to the Circle. I'm sure my family would have welcomed yours."

Solona and Leliana took advantage of a lull in the conversation to trade expressive looks. Carver pretended obliviousness, unsure how to feel, before finally speeding up to the front of the group again.

A giggle arose behind him.

Great. The girls had developed silent communication and inside jokes. If Carver had to be reminded of his emotional constipation and single status in exchange for Solona's mental health, he was happy to make the sacrifice. He just wished he knew how to behave without outwardly displaying his awkwardness.

"So Carver," Leliana projected. Ah, was he back in the conversation? "You didn't ask about my family."

Carver glanced back. "Is it alright if I ask?"

"No need," Leliana smirked. Oh no. "You already know my background, don't you? Just like you know everyone else's."

Where was this assumption coming from!?

"I can't predict anything," Carver stressed, "and I don't know everything. I operate mostly on instinct."

Leliana murmured teasingly to Solona, then raised her voice. "You close your hand when you lie, dear Carver."

Carver sped up until he was barely within hearing distance of the girls. Darn bard. Carver self-consciously looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them. Should he occupy them with something when he intended to lie? He grasped his sword just as a raven landed on his shoulder.

Right, her. On the way out of Redcliffe Castle's gates, the avian had descended from where she had probably been hiding from Shale, and landed on Solona's crook. Since then, the bird had been flying ahead of them or riding on someone's shoulder. She appeared content tailing at least one warden. At the very least, she was the only conversation companion Carver wanted around right now.

He wasn't socially awkward. He wasn't.