Carver adjusted the dragon scale helmet hooked to his person as he ignored the glances around him. The Kendells estate was bursting with the fraction of the Kendells legion that had followed Arl Urien out of Ostagar, and now evidently remembered Carver's likeness from the parade. Where Carver had last worn unmarked armour, he now bore the Theirin crest.

Unfortunately, donning a helmet in Urien's presence wasn't an option, not while Carver needed the arl's focus in regards to Denerim's defence against an archdemon. Carver needed to convince Urien to prioritise the construction of trebuchets and ballistas: the former for blunt force to interrupt the archdemon's path of flight, the latter for piercing and hindering the archdemon's movements. Carver also wanted to bring in Gorim Saelac for prototyping designs that could launch nets, if the merchant could be convinced. Of course, none of this would be feasible without ensuring that Denerim's artisans were provided the necessary materials for practice and execution.

So much to do, so little time.

Carver raised his head when a servant finally greeted him at the estate's main foyer. The soldiers standing guard of the estate respectfully stayed out of the servant's path, while the servant himself was an elderly elf in sharp attire.

Hm. The arl's steward?

The servant eyed Carver warily enough, seasoned at politely averting visitors who would waste his lord's time. "May I ask to whom I speak?"

Carver stood at rest. "Please inform Arl Urien that Ser Carver is here."

The servant hesitated. "Carver who––?"

"Let him in, Joslan." A female elf in even finer attire descended from a flight of stairs past the servant. "Arl Urien is expecting him. Oh, no need to escort our guest; I will lead him to the drawing room myself."

The servant nodded once and stepped aside. "As you say, Lady Kallian."

The woman reached the bottom of the stairs and, together with Carver, watched Joslan retreat to other steward duties. Kallian stood a full head shorter than Carver with a braided bun of russet hair and a coffee-coloured dress that flattered her bright locks. Though modestly decorated, the attire failed to conceal Kallian's ethereal beauty, casting even her plain grooming into a Victorian painting. Carver could see Kallian as a warm but firm teacher to the elf-blooded heir of Denerim.

He could also see Kallian stabbing her hairpin into a rapist's eye without changing her statuesque expression.

The reports had erroneously detailed Kallian's fighting style as "savage." It was obvious now that shock coloured the accounts, so strange it must have been to witness loveliness perpetrating brutality.

Kallian turned to Carver and gestured. "This way, please."

Carver offered his arm, and Kallian hesitated with visible surprise before accepting it. As they entered Urien's drawing room, passing beams of sunlight lit Kallian's hair aflame.

When Kallian closed the doors behind them, Carver stood by a chair, tentative to take a seat. "I never informed Arl Urien that I would visit him."

"No," Kallian agreed, stepping away from the door. "He will eventually learn of your presence from Joslan. More importantly, I have been tasked with passing information to you."

"Regarding Tevinter slavers," Carver took a leap, "and others who would prey on Ferelden refugees escaping the blight through the Waking Seas."

Kallian straightened. "How did you––?"

Carver recalled dock records. "Regardless, Teyrna Oriana's sentiment is appreciated but unnecessary." The noblewoman didn't have to update him on her actions. Carver wouldn't have approached Oriana in the beginning if he hadn't trusted her loyalty to Ferelden.

Kallian cleared her throat. "You aren't upset?"

Carver looked at her. "…Why would I be?"

A pause answered him. "In order to conceal themselves, Teyrna Oriana and her merchant family use a chain of intermediaries to connect with those they hire."

It would bode ill if the Teyrna of Highever was revealed to be utilising contacts outside of Ferelden to control who could dock in Denerim, even for ethical reasons.

Kallian continued. "If orders are traced too far up the chain, the connections of Teyrna Oriana's family have been informed to credit the orders to you, by name."

What.

Carver choked. "…Carver?"

Kallian blinked. "Postboy."

Postboy.

Postboy!?

What was Oriana thinking? On one hand, Carver had enabled her in the first place…but this?

Carver spluttered. "No matter the cause, a Ferelden noble and a ring of merchants shouldn't falsely attribute their actions to an innocent person. I'm not even rich."

"You truly didn't know?" Kallian realised.

Carver exasperatedly slumped into a chair and rubbed his temples. "Despite popular opinion, I don't actually know everything."

Kallian shifted in place. "The cogs are already turning. Still, Teyrna Oriana assures that the question has only been asked a few times. Most privateers are content merely earning good coin. Tevinters or raiders who investigate the root of their troubles aren't graced with an answer at all."

Meaning they were killed.

Carver shoved his face into his hands. Bloody Antivans.

"You formerly served Teyrna Oriana as a lady in waiting," Carver sighed. "As it is now, do you have the means to answer a question of my own?"

Kallian hummed. "I only pass messages."

Carver shot her a look, having used the excuse himself.

Kallian straightened innocently. "What do you wish to know?"

"You mentioned raiders," Carver noted. "I understand your position, so flatten your expression now if you aren't permitted to share this information. I suspect the raiders you refer to are associates of the Felicisima Armada, including a merchant named Castillon. I'd like to know if a ship called the Siren's Call lost his potential slaves in transit."

Kallian furrowed her brows. "You wish to know of a failed shipment?"

"Are you able to answer me?" Carver pressed.

Kallian pursed her lips contemplatively. "Teyrna Oriana appreciates your discretion and your inclination towards a low profile, despite your many contributions to Ferelden's peace and safety. It is why she respects 'Postboy's' work ethic." She nodded once, having come to a conclusion. "I'll forward your request to her."

"You have access to an information network," Carver began.

Kallian shook her head. "To protect Teyrna Oriana's contacts, the illusion of the Postboy must be maintained. Just as you trusted your letter to Empress Celene with few others, Teyrna Oriana trusts you with few beyond her family and myself. She hasn't forgotten the oath you completed for her."

Carver's brows jumped in surprise. "She told you of it?"

"Not at all," Kallian corrected. "I understand it's an Antivan thing; very sacred. I doubt even her husband knows of it. Regardless, I can see that with the burning of Highever and the fighting at Ostagar, Teyrna Oriana has grown emboldened to protect her family and by extension, Ferelden."

Carver straightened. "I appreciate your enlightenment into events outside of Denerim, Lady Kallian. Your discretion is also noted, considering you follow three different lords. Obligation demands I ask which lord you ultimately serve."

Kallian's entire posture tightened as her eyes narrowed. "Lady Amethyne is my utmost—"

Carver continued. "Save your answer for the real question when it comes, and consider my obligation as mere advice. Better three friends than three masters."

If Carver was reading Denerim's political environment correctly, it was possible for not only Kallian's father or cousin, but Kallian herself to be considered by the city elves for a bann when a new bannorn would be established. While Kallian's connection to Oriana, Urien, and Amethyne was commendable, the woman's near future was going to provide her an opportunity to serve herself.

Kallian's priority was probably Amethyne, to educate and protect the half-elf heir; then Oriana, who connected Celene and Anora and kept slavers out of Denerim; then Urien, whose influence determined city elves' daily lives. Becoming a bann would reduce Kallian's servitude to Oriana and Urien into civil relationships, and give Kallian the means to help city elves directly. If Kallian played things smartly, she would also be able to ensure that Amethyne would continue to be treated well.

Kallian's brows stitched together. "What do you mean—?"

"Ser Carver!"

It was at that moment that Urien burst in, haphazardly running a hand through his hair to check his grooming. The arl hadn't expected Loghain's representative to visit him unannounced.

Carver rose from his chair while Kallian bowed her head and shuffled aside. Behind Urien, a homely-looking girl with bright, round eyes peered at them.

"Arl Urien," Carver greeted. "Lady Amethyne."

Urien started, having missed Amethyne tailing him to the drawing room. The arl gestured for his heir to properly receive their guest, and both grandfather and granddaughter inclined their heads. They wore complementary verdant outfits in reflection of the Kendells crest.

Carver suppressed a twitch of his lips. Cute.

Carver saluted and stood at rest. "Arl Urien, I wish to discuss Denerim's protection against the archdemon with you, particularly regarding siege weapons."

Urien processed the proposal while he distractedly motioned for Amethyne to take a seat. The little girl fixed her skirts as she sank into a cushion, head swivelling between the adults in the room and their guest. Children were especially sensitive to moods.

Carver stalled by his own chair. "If you're uncomfortable––"

"Forgive my distraction, Ser Carver." Urien shook his head as he finally claimed a chair. Carver and Kallian then followed. "Fort Drakon's topmost level is fitted with ballistas in the event of a sea invasion, but I hesitate to send my soldiers up a tower. What value have you found in siege weapons against the archdemon?"

The arl had to weigh the value against his soldiers' fears. The nobles who had left the Line for the Landsmeet had devoted the bulk of their forces to Ostagar, and had only travelled to Denerim with a token guard. Even outside of the Kendells legion, no one was eager to enter a tower in the archdemon's presence. Carver of all people could reason why.

Urien visibly remembered himself and waved a hand to Amethyne. "Ah –– my heir has yet to make her public debut. You are the first guest of mine to see her, so I ask for your understanding."

Carver quirked his lips at the two of them. "You are attentive to your granddaughter, Arl Urien. No one can fault you for that."

Amethyne hesitated. "Have I erred somewhere, Grandfather?"

Kallian smirked. "Ordinarily, the arl's knightly guest would sit after the arl, then you would follow, my lady. As your guard and mentor, I would sit last."

Urien evidently had a habit of ensuring his heir was comfortable before settling into business or demanding her focus. While the man's concern with public image motivated him to personally raise Amethyne into a "proper heir," the end result for Amethyne was still fortunate. To forget himself around Amethyne implied a doting image of Urien.

The arl seemed to realise it and recovered. "Indeed, you have maintained grace, Amethyne. The fault is mine from a place of fondness."

Amethyne bit her lip to vainly restrain a smile as she quickly glanced between Urien and Kallian. Even the little girl understood that Kallian technically wasn't allowed to correct her employer in front of guests, if not for the circumstances surrounding Kallian's hire. While Amethyne seemed ignorant of courtly ways, she was apparently knowledgeable of the adult world.

Carver had wondered how the girl had handled the whirlwind of changes in her life. He could see he needn't worry too much.

Carver cleared his throat. "As for your question, Arl Urien, I've noted that high dragons are best confronted on even ground. Customised siege weapons should be able to remove the archdemon from the skies. A merchant by the name of Gorim Saelac would also be of help constructing a weapon that can fire nets or bolas."

Urien's lips thinned. "I've read a number of draconology literature by Frederic of Serault. Dragonfire - of any type - relies on a gas that is expended from food broken down in a dragon's stomach and collected in a small sack connected to a dragon's airway. It is still a mystery how the gas is ignited, but the fact is that the low density gas also contributes to a dragon's buoyancy in air. Since the sack's volume is limited, a dragon can be forced to waste its breath and land on the ground to fight with only its claws, teeth, and tail. It has been the way of dragonslaying for years."

Carver awkwardly clasped his hands together. "Dragons can also be enraged to the point of landing, where a blitz attack can finish them off."

Urien's brows furrowed. "That would be placing Denerim's safety in an untested method…."

Carver's gauntlets were suddenly riveting.

Urien choked. "Maker, did you—!?"

"Only mundane dragons," Carver quickly stated, lifting his gaze, "not the archdemon itself, of course."

"Dragons, plural?" Urien caught.

Shoot.

Carver stressed, "Please don't tell the Wardens." Elissa and Alistair would react terribly upon learning what a portion of their party had done for Morrigan.

Urien pinched his nose bridge. "You slayed a couple high dragons while travelling with the Wardens without them somehow noticing?"

"Just two high dragons," Carver corrected, "and Wardens Elissa and Alistair had been with me for the first one."

Urien exhaled deeply. "Somehow, I know you're not lying. Well, it is comforting to know that the Wardens here have experience slaying dragons. I'll organise those siege weapons."

Carver stood up, nodding to everyone as he strategically retreated. "…Thank you for having me."

X

Halfway through Denerim's market, a merchant caught Carver's arm.

"Pardon me," the stranger greeted.

Carver scanned the man's face and clothes. "Cesar, I presume. You have my thanks for conducting business past your usual hours."

The Antivan merchant released Carver and folded his hands in front of him. "I do not know what you mean. I simply wish to extend my gratitude for providing myself and my new partner with our recent business opportunities."

"Our…?" Carver echoed.

Past Cesar, a modestly-dressed dwarf walked up to them. His beard was braided in Orzammar fashion.

"Gorim Saelac," the dwarf nodded once, "though you must know that, soldier of Maric's Shield. The knight in charge of Denerim has been passing on designs to me 'for the benefit of Ferelden' with little else explanation. Ser Rhiannon respects you enough to welcome you personally at the west gate and hand you papers."

Carver eyed the two merchants. "Watching the streets, are we?"

"Performing research," Cesar coolly denied.

"Wherever my inspirations come from," Gorim continued, "I'm grateful, if puzzled. I can't tell you how long I've been working in the Merchant's Guild with their connections to Orzammar before I could finally conclude that no, the smith caste wasn't dastardly planning to invent my ruin. I humbly request your angle."

Carver glanced at Cesar. The neutral merchant was probably just following the money and had little interest in his products' origins. Cesar was simply present to give his inventor, Gorim, support.

Carver looked at Gorim. "You anticipate being fed faulty designs that would ruin your career?"

Gorim held out his hands. "I was a noble caste before my exile to the surface. Orzammar might be targeting me for the same reasons it rejected me. Understand, soldier, I have a child."

Carver dismissed Gorim's exercise in wordsmithing and pointed west. "If you insist, write to a Ruck in Soldier's Peak. He'll send you the reassurance you desire."

Carver extricated himself from the conversation and hastily left the market plaza. Gorim had been Duren's Second before Bhelen had set them both up for exile. If Carver didn't want to explain his thought processes to a veritable stranger ahead of Rhiannon, he just had to convince Gorim to trust him because Duren did.

Speaking of Soldier's Peak…Carver was curious how Brother Genitivi and his apprentice were faring on their return to Denerim with the northern warden forces….

Carver halted in his path, then pivoted for the old warden district. As he drew closer to its heart, more city elves replaced the pedestrians around him, clad in less faded and roughspun clothes than he had last seen them. Carver saw neighbours idly chat as they passed groceries. Children played on the street with invented games. A couple on a bench overlapped their hands, one human and one elf. When Carver asked them for directions to the building where the leaders of Soldier's Peak were staying, the couple was kind and friendly as they responded.

The warden recruits of Soldier's Peak who could fight were camping outside the city walls with the rest of the king's army that had come from Ostagar and Highever, and more forces were still expected with Duncan and Loghain's planned arrival. Just as legion commanders had moved into the city for the Landsmeet, Elissa and Hahren Valendrian had agreed to set up a public building in the old warden district for the leaders of Soldier's Peak. For accessibility, the warden's party still stayed in the army barracks near Carver's personal room.

Carver approached steps that led to the front doors of a towering rookery. People in civilian and merchant wear flowed up and down the steps while a few warden recruits stood guard of the doors. They didn't react to Carver as he passed, confirming his suspicion that he had only been recognised in Soldier's Peak due to his uniform. In Denerim, he was just another Shielder. Past the rookery entrance, Carver respectfully bowed his head to Levi Dryden at the sight of the merchant turned noble.

"Oh!" Levi stammered. "Well met, Maric's Shield. May I help you?"

Carver waved aside Levi's offer. The Coastland noble was busy enough contending with drama between the Couslands, Howes, and Kendells while performing his duties as a landlord over wardens, commoners, and tourists. How flustering it must have been for Levi to attend the Landsmeet as a fellow noble.

"It's nothing, Lord Levi," Carver stated. He preferred not being recognised, anyway. "I'm merely checking on you and the other leaders of Soldier's Peak."

Levi hummed in contemplation, before perking up at a flash of grey past Carver. Administrative rooms occupied the first floor of the rookery, whereas the source of Levi's distraction descended from the second. No doubt residential space took up the upper floor. A separate staircase connected the main floor to the rookery itself, allowing the public to access their mail.

"First Enchanter Wynne," Levi identified.

Crinkled eyes greeted the two men. "I see you, Lord Levi. And Ser Carver, I'm surprised you're without an escort." Wynne joined them at the bottom of the stairs. "Though, I'm less surprised you're up and about. All things are good in moderation, you know."

Carver deadpanned at the address. "Solona and her patients are still in Soldier's Peak."

Wynne chuckled. "You have me there. I suppose we're both too stubborn to lie still. You should know Elissa vented quite heavily to Lord Levi, Faren, Shale, and I upon our arrival here when Elissa found you missing from your bed."

Levi coughed politely.

"I only proceeded as far as the armoury," Carver groaned with red cheeks. "I had to order the royal legion to help me suit up before I could flee to Ser Rhiannon's office. Elissa wouldn't tear into innocent soldiers."

"That's an abuse of authority," Wynne primly stated.

Levi delicately prodded. "You have been unwell lately, ser?"

Wynne responded before Carver could open his mouth. "The knight has recently recovered from Soldier's Bane."

Levi looked between the two of them, noting their address of the warden's party. "You must be the knight from song — Carver the Knight, yes? It's a pleasure to meet you for such a humble one as myself."

Right, because there were four songs about a Carver.

Four too many, in Carver's opinion.

"Not at all," Carver hurriedly dismissed. "I would think higher of yourself, Lord Levi. You're a good landlord."

Wynne's lips twitched. "Carver was the deciding voice to reclaim Soldier's Peak in your name. In a way, he chose you to become its lord."

Levi spluttered in embarrassment.

Carver shot Wynne a look.

"But I'm just an old woman gabbing away." Wynne sniffed.

"Warden Faren…" Carver cut off, concluding whom he should ask about Genitivi.

Levi caught on and gestured. "The warden and the golem are around the back speaking with couriers. I understand Warden Faren is a dwarf of note or somesuch, and the giant, Shale, is averse to birds."

Carver snatched his chance to escape yet another conversation and sought Faren and Shale. Levi bade him farewell while Wynne quickly looped an arm around Carver's and dragged herself along.

Carver noted her steering. "Faren and Shale should be the other way."

"We have more important subjects to cover," Wynne stated. "You must have noticed that Zevran proposes to everyone with the offer of sleeping together and letting loose. Except you."

Carver blinked at her. "He did once, but it's different now. We're…" Carver's voice dropped bashfully, "friends."

Carver's first real friend — or second, considering Morrigan. Carver felt a little giddy.

Wynne looked at him. "He has great consideration for you, one I would observe as that for the closest thing he has to family, or—"

"Don't even suggest it," Carver pleaded. He understood Wynne's intervention. As a voice of reason, she often pulled aside members of the warden's party to check on them — quite forwardly.

Wynne huffed. "If you have no such feelings or expectations, I would suggest clearly communicating them with Zevran."

Carver sighed fondly at the advice. "I appreciate it, Wynne. I can't imagine hearing this from anyone else."

Wynne frowned. "No parents of your own? Grandparents?"

Carver shook his head. "None I would feel comfortable speaking about these things with. You're the first."

Wynne's eyes crinkled gently. "Of course, my dear. It's my pleasure."

Carver tightened his grip on Wynne's arm. She hummed encouragingly, sensing his mood. "I would like your advice, or just a listening ear. In the future, if I do encounter someone I wish to have a relationship with…."

Wynne stopped them to place a hand on Carver's shoulder, and his unknowingly taut muscles loosened. "This is related to your aversion to physical intimacy, isn't it. I began to see it, after learning of your situation. You casually nudge someone or let them hold your arm only if you feel comfortable with them."

Carver bit his lip. "I was a woman in my first life. Then I became a boy. Now when I imagine being intimate with someone, I — freeze."

"Allow me to ask," Wynne responded, "if you were in your own male body, would you be able to imagine physical intimacy?"

Carver had spent the last nineteen years as a male. He could imagine it.

At his nod, Wynne continued, "Your discomfort sources from the idea that the body you're in belongs to someone else."

Carver sighed "I know it does."

Wynne nodded. "Then I suggest going to the Fade and speaking with the original Carver."

It was the obvious yet most difficult answer. Carver found a bench and sat down, Wynne joining him.

"I told Morrigan the other day that I could protect Denerim from the blight and defeat it," Carver confessed. "The truth is, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm probably condemning everyone because of my choices. I've already hurt 'Carver's' family in ways they can't imagine." Carver lowered his head. "I'm not meant to be here."

Wynne lifted his chin with a gentle hand. "I should have died months ago, and for better or worse, I'm possessed by a spirit. Do you remember the guardian?"

Carver mutely nodded.

Wynne huffed. "To his question, I said that only a fool is completely certain of himself. Still, I am comfortable with who I am, my beliefs, and my situation. Look at me, my dear; should you encounter the original Carver, I pray you don't become content leaving the world permanently."

Carver's lips quivered. No one had told him that they wanted him to live as himself.

Leliana, Zevran, and Wynne had found peace with who they were.

Perhaps it was time that someone else did the same.

Carver and Wynne quietly hugged each other on the side of the street, unnoticed by passers-by. For that moment, they were merely themselves with a friend.

Carver eventually parted from Wynne. "I initially came here to check on Brother Genitivi and his apprentice. I understand they've relocated to a corner of the local chantry — or of Wade's Emporium?" Carver had received conflicting reports.

Wynne tittered. "The scholar and his apprentice have been grounded in the rookery by Elissa. She has determined that details on the Urn of Sacred Ashes should be held until at least after the blight to avoid mass hysteria. It's enough that Sergeant Jory and his ilk are fumbling their way through resolving the issues caused by Haven."

Carver sighed. "I would be able to do my job better if Elissa didn't hold information from me." Or otherwise try to ground him.

It was at that moment that Satin materialised by Carver's side. To her credit, Wynne only blinked rapidly in surprise.

Carver leaned over as Satin whispered into his ear. "Teyrn Loghain, Warden-Commander Duncan, and their forces have arrived. We've just received confirmation that the archdemon is expected to hit Denerim by tomorrow at first light."

X

A/N:

And here Carver was, trying to outfit Denerim with unique siege weapons, among other things. Time to speed up his plans…?