Disorder in the Court

Part 1 – "Howe" Goes It?

"We have a problem, Warden," Eamon began. "I've received word that Rendon Howe has kidnapped Queen Anora and is holding her in Denerim. I need you to go to Howe's estate and rescue her."

Well, wasn't this a predictable twist? Three of Ferelden's most underhanded snakes—Loghain, Anora, and Howe—weren't able to play nice together. I can't tell you how sorely tempted I was to leave her there and see what came of it, but the landsmeet couldn't move forward without the queen present.

"As you wish, Arl Eamon," I agreed. Reluctantly.

"A word of caution," he went on. "Howe is a paranoid man, and with good reason. He's the most hated figure in the city. His estate will be heavily guarded. It's known that he is in Denerim at present, and almost a certainty that he will be at his residence."

Eamon, if you only knew how long I've looked forward to meeting the man that slaughtered Aiden's family…

With Aiden away tending to Fergus, I took it as my personal responsibility to gut that bastard Howe and bring Aiden his head on a pike. It wouldn't erase the wrongs done to the Couslands, but it might give Aiden and his brother a measure of satisfaction knowing vengeance had been visited on the traitorous Howe. No one would leave there alive, even if that included Loghain himself.

Alistair, Zevran, Morrigan and I left to aid the queen. It wasn't hard to find Howe's estate. One only had to follow the angry mob. His courtyard was crowded with people jeering, shouting, and demanding to speak to the arl who was bleeding the residents dry with heavy taxes and giving them nothing in return. His treasury was growing fat on the backs of the people he was supposed to govern and protect.

Howe had a small army in there, and they'd been expecting trouble. That was no surprise, considering the arl had the temerity to kidnap Ferelden's monarch. What I found most curious about this situation was that Howe and Loghain were supposedly close allies. Howe's bloody takeover of the Couslands' Highever estate was done with Loghain's approval, if not on his orders. His rise to the rank of Arl of Denerim was also Loghain's doing. Why would he turn on Loghain now, when the regent held the power and Howe was but a slobbering follower, picking up the crumbs Loghain threw his way to keep him on a leash?

No matter. The lackey had slipped his leash, and he needed to be put down.

Anora was being held in a room off the estate's foyer, imprisoned behind a magically sealed door. To open it, Morrigan told us, we would have to find the mage that cast the spell.

"You have two options," she said. "Either force him to remove the ward, or kill him and the ward will vanish."

"Kill him," Alistar, Zev, and I said in unison. We left Anora to stew in her prison a while longer and we went in search of Rendon Howe. The mage could wait. Howe was my target. His room was at the far end of the hall. Between us and him were a company of guards, several mabari, and four mages. The fighting got tougher or we were growing weary, but we finally defeated them all. There were two doors at the end of the hall. The door to our right was locked up tight. I picked the lock, and we discovered Howe's personal treasury. We emptied his storehouse like he'd robbed the citizens of Denerim.

The room on the left was Howe's suite. Beyond his bed was a set of stairs leading down to the dungeon.

"I wonder if he uses his dungeons for his mistresses as well as his political rivals," Zev mused.

"I've said it before, but it bears repeating," Alistair said. "You are a sick little man."

The first room we came to was a small jail and torture room. We took out the lone guard and gave his armor to Howe's prisoner. He was a man Alistair recognized.

"He's one of us, a Grey Warden," he said to me. The man introduced himself as Riordan, senior warden of Jader, a region west of Highever and east of Orlais. He was a native of Highever, but his thirty years among Orlesians had given his accent a thick Orlesian flavor.

Riordan was lured to the estate with promises of assistance in finding the surviving wardens, then he was poisoned, imprisoned, and tortured by Howe. The new arl of Denerim was a sadistic fellow. His hatred of wardens was as irrational as it was unwarranted. Every new thing I learned about him gave me more reason to want to kill him in the most painful way I could devise.

Riordan had suffered much at Howe's hands. The poison wasn't lethal, but it left him nauseous and weak. Injuries he sustained from beatings and racking required attention. We sent him to Eamon's estate for healing and rest. When he left, we pushed deeper into the dungeon.

There were as many soldiers, mages, and guards in the dungeon as in the main house. The further in we went, the heavier the guard. We were getting close to Howe. Rounding the final bend in the dungeon's maze brought us to a single door. It was left slightly open, either to listen for the sound of our defeat or to welcome us into a trap.

"Let's meet our host," I said. I pushed the door open and Howe stood there waiting for us.

Yep. It's a trap.

"If it isn't the last of the Grey Wardens," he greeted contemptuously. Two mages were stationed at strategic points in the room. Archers and swordsmen stood waiting for his signal to attack. "I trust you found your fellow warden still alive? What a pity. I wasn't done conversing with him."

I didn't recognize the man, but Alistair had met him when he and Eamon arrived in Denerim. He had tiny eyes, a hooked beak of a nose, and a thin mouth curved into a sneer. The mouth had more to say.

"And you brought along 'the man who won't be king'. That almost makes up for you releasing my prisoner. Not that any of you will escape with your lives. But tell me, Warden, what brings you to my home uninvited? Are you still smarting after the loss of your fellow wardens? Or was there something more personal?"

"This is more of a social call, Howe," I answered in a tone similar to his. "I came to talk to you."

"Then by all means, while I can still restrain my men, do regale me with your misguided sense of honor and your tales of derring-do."

"I'd rather discuss the Cousland family," I said, getting right to it. I didn't want to be in this horrid man's company any longer than necessary. He exuded evil in a quantity that would have made Flemeth envious.

"There is no Cousland family," he corrected me. "They've been wiped from the minds of the people of Highever, and now their lands and their people are mine."

"Not quite," I began. "Bryce Cousland's two sons still live."

"Both of them? Truly? That is disappointing. Why is the Cousland warden not with you? Does he fear me so much? Or is he ashamed to look me in the eye because he deserted his house and ran away with Duncan and the wardens? You will be sure to tell him how I ravished his sister while my old friend Bryce watched, and how his mother offered herself to me in exchange for her life, won't you? I accepted her offer, of course—Eleanor was a lovely woman—but I'm afraid I couldn't uphold my end of the bargain. I'd promised my men a go at her and young Alyssa as part of their compensation, you see."

"Shut your vile mouth," I snarled. I didn't believe his account of abusing the Cousland women, but I did believe him capable of sadistic, inhuman acts against any of his victims.

"Did I hit a nerve? I didn't realize you and Aiden were so…close." The insinuation was clear. "You should have chosen more wisely, my girl. A real man could have shown you things..." He let out a sigh that was meant to sound part lustful and part rueful. "But if you'll indulge me a moment, Warden, why would a foreigner be so involved in our internal matters? You're not Fereldan. Was there a shortage of men in little Starkhaven, hmm? Oh, that reminds me, we intercepted your countryman at the docks. He told me some tawdry tales about you before he died. You were quite the little harlot in your homeland, weren't you?"

I'd had enough of this repugnant lunatic. If Howe's lies caused my companions to think less of me, that was their problem. Whether he'd really apprehended Sebastian or not was a matter for another time. I had a feeling he'd simply gotten news of another Starkhaven native in Denerim and that the two had never crossed paths. Whatever the case, I wasn't going to be distracted by his drivel.

He was so sure he was invincible, he ignored the fact that we'd left every one of his men dead on our way to him. This little party around him was all he had left, seven of them in all, counting Howe. "I realize you're in love with the sound of your own voice, Howe, but you bore me. Why don't we engage in something more stimulating? You know, something that really gets the blood pumping?" An unwise choice of words on my part, considering I was talking to a pervert.

"If I didn't know better, Warden, I would think you fancied a tumble with me. That could be arranged, you know, once your companions are dead."

Lightning-quick, Alistair drew his sword and held the tip of it to Howe's throat. "Not one more sound, you pig."

"Now there's Maric's good little boy," Howe taunted, heedless of Alistair's seething rage. "Daddy would be so proud of his templar-warden. No, wait. My mistake. Daddy never acknowledged your existence." He turned his attention back to me and added, "I must say, I haven't been this entertained since I last went to the theater. Let's see, when was that?" He raised a hand to his chin, signaling his men to attack.

For an older man, his reflexes were quick. He sidestepped Alistair's sword while he pulled his daggers, going first for Morrigan. She was busy trying to counter the spells from his two mages and unable to avoid his attack. Zev stepped between them and defended her. Howe was a more experienced fighter, but Zev knew more dirty tricks to throw him off his guard. Howe was forced to target someone else. He chose Alistair.

I left them to keep Howe busy while I helped Morrigan kill the mages, then she and I took out the archers and swordsmen. Howe was the last man standing. Desperation made him more dangerous, but he was outnumbered and outmaneuvered. To this day I don't know whose blade felled him—mine, Zev's, or Alistair's—but he dropped to his knees, then collapsed onto his back, bleeding from a number of slash and puncture wounds.

To my disbelieving ears, the dying tyrant chuckled. "Fools," he said, gasping his final breaths. "Anora will… betray…" He stopped to cough, and a fine spray of blood flew from his mouth. He summoned his waning strength and began again. "Loghain…"

"No, Howe. The last name on your mind will be Cousland, you son of a bitch," I said, and drove my sword into his skull.

"Thank you for silencing him," Zev said. "Tiresome fellow, and most vulgar."

"Let's go get Loghain's daughter out of here. Since we have no choice."

"We don't?" Alistair responded. "Oh, of course. The landsmeet."

One of the mages we'd killed was the one who had warded the door, and Anora was free when we got back to her room. "Are you ready to leave?" I asked.

"Don't you have the manners to address me properly?" she demanded.

Are you serious? I just saved your life and you want me to kowtow to you?

"Are you ready to leave, Anora?" I amended. That was all the manners I could muster for her.

She saw I was too stubborn to bow to her whims. "Very well. I can't go back to the castle because my father arranged for Howe to abduct me and hold me here."

The classic hate triangle. One betrayal upon another…

"We'll take you to Arl Eamon's estate. You'll be safe there until the landsmeet."

We stepped into the foyer and were met by a company of Loghain's soldiers, led by his chief sycophant, the homely knight Ser Cauthrien—the woman with the chronic case of penis envy. "Lay down your arms, Warden. You're not going anywhere with Queen Anora. Teyrn Loghain suspected you would try to take her hostage and use her to gain leverage in the landsmeet."

"I don't know how to break this to you, lady, but your boss arranged this little drama," I answered. "Howe took her here on Loghain's orders."

"You LIE!" Anora cried, turning on her rescuers (meaning us, not Cauthrien). "Kill them, Ser Cauthrien! These wardens kidnapped me, they murdered Arl Howe, and they've threatened to kill Father." It wasn't entirely unexpected since she, Howe, and her father were the three-headed monster that held Ferelden in their greedy, murderous, power-mad hands. Howe's last words, "Anora will betray" made more sense. For once, he'd told the truth.

"You bitch! I should have killed you before you set foot out of that room," I snapped back at her.

Two soldiers grabbed her and pulled her out of harm's way, and Cauthrien called the rest of the soldiers to arms. She was no easy takedown, believe me. The woman had earned her title of knight, and she didn't do it on her back as I'd originally thought. She could fight, and fight well. She kept me engaged while her mage hammered me with ice, fire, and stone fist spells.

"The mage!" I called to my companions. They were occupied too, but one of them incapacitated his opponent and went after the mage. The sorcerer was more powerful than Morrigan and he knew a wider range of defensive spells. Morrigan's were almost exclusively offensive, leaving her open to injury and putting us all at risk. But there aren't many spells that can outdo a sharp sword, as I'd learned in the Fade. When the mage was dead, I was able to finish Cauthrien.

We took care of the rest of the company and went to report to Eamon. I didn't know what became of Anora—if she'd been recaptured or taken back to her father. I didn't care what happened to her. Eamon would have to find a way to make the landsmeet happen with or without her.

Part 2 – Liar, Liar

We were ready to proceed with the landsmeet. There had been no word of Anora since she was hustled out of Howe's estate, but chances were good that she would put in an appearance. She wasn't going to let go of the throne without a fight.

When Alistair and I arrived, the landsmeet was in session. The nobles were gathered on an upper tier overlooking the main floor where we stood. Eamon recounted each of the crimes Loghain had committed against King Cailan and against Ferelden. He ended by stating what most of the people present already knew: that the teyrn was a tyrant, he had incited a civil war, and he was trying to seize the throne from his own daughter.

Loghain stepped forward. "Let's talk about your part in this, Eamon. You're not the innocent, noble soul you'd like the good people here to think you are. Tell them of how you coerced King Cailan to divorce his wife…" he pointed around the upper tier, "…your queen, a born Fereldan… and to wed the empress of Orlais. Cailan would have traded his own country for the title of emperor. A country his father Maric and I fought and bled for! A country his mother defended with her own life! But that foolish boy would have put us under Orlesian rule once more. Not for an heir, as Eamon would have you believe. Not for political advantage. But because, like his father Maric, Cailan loved his whores."

He turned on us and pointed at Alistair. "Here is the product of Maric's dalliance with a scullery maid, an insignificant servant working in his queen's very household. This is Maric's bastard son Alistair, who would be your king if he had his way. Will a day come when one of Cailan's bastards challenges this man's claim to the throne? The bastard son of a legitimate heir against the former king's illegitimate son? It boggles the mind to think how the Theirins have disgraced their own name and tarnished the dignity of the crown."

He wasn't about to leave me out of the fun. "And you, Warden. You're not even Fereldan! What have you to do with my country, and what say do you think you have in this landsmeet? Do you believe being a Grey Warden gives you the right to tell us who should rule?"

"As a native of Starkhaven, I must agree that my part in the landsmeet is open to question. As a Grey Warden, I do not feel I have the right to name Ferelden's next ruler. But as a witness to your crimes at Ostagar, and as one who uncovered your plot with your Orlesian spy inside Arl Eamon's household—his wife Isolde—to have Eamon poisoned by a malificar whom you provided, and with testimony from the templar you and Howe imprisoned because he knew of your crimes against the chantry and the country…" The murmuring among the nobles swelled to an outcry that drowned me out. I had to wait for it to subside to finish with, "Because becoming a Grey Warden in Ferelden automatically bound me to serve King Cailan as if I were a native of this country, that gives me the right to speak out in this assembly."

Loghain changed tactics. "Tell me, Warden, what have you done with the queen? Does she still live, or did you see fit to remove the one obstacle between Maric's bastard and the throne?"

There was something in his tone, a subtle change that told me he was lying. He knew exactly where Anora was, and I believed she was within earshot.

One good lie deserves another.

"I found her at Rendon Howe's estate, as you know. But what you don't know is that she was in league with Howe, your good friend and chief bootlicker, conspiring to remove you from your station and have you executed for murdering her husband, King Cailan. Howe planned to tell all he knew about your traitorous acts, putting all the blame solely on you, and Anora would appoint him regent upon your death. Anora's part of their agreement was to wed Thomas Howe, naming him prince consort until he could maneuver her into giving him control of the country, or, as Howe would have preferred it, upon Anora's untimely demise. In effect, the Theirin dynasty would end, the Mac Tir dynasty would be snuffed out in a few brief and unremarkable years—less than a footnote in the history books—and the Howe family would become the new rulers of Ferelden. Since Anora's shriveling womb couldn't conceive much less carry a child, Thomas' son, Rendon the Second, would become king upon his death."

Anora ran from the east wing in a rage. "Liar! You wretched liar! I made no such deals with Howe. You're making this up!"

"Am I, Anora? Can you look your father in the eye and convince him that what I've just told him is not the truth?" There must have been some acting talent in my genetic makeup, because I'd just given them one heck of a performance. All lies. Made up on the spot.

"Anora…" Loghain's voice had lost its loud, abrading quality and taken on that of a wounded daddy. He was heartbroken, and if he were a man worthy of pity, I would have felt some for him. "How could you work against me? After all I did for you to insure your place on the throne…"

"Don't believe her, Father. She's lying. I wouldn't play you false." She went to him and gripped his gauntleted hand, gazing up with those big "I-love-you-daddy" eyes. "Howe kidnapped and imprisoned me. He said you'd told him to do it so that the landsmeet would have to be called off. But I knew that couldn't be true."

"It is true." He said it with an unmistakable air of defeat. "I told Howe to hide you in his house, but I never told him to imprison you. That must have been something you cooked up between yourselves to trap the wardens. Was it before or after you plotted to murder me?"

"No! I could never do such a thing! I'm your daughter."

"Indeed you are. The same daughter that asked me to rid her of her husband, the king. You knew of it when Cailan went to Empress Celene. You feared she would conceive when you couldn't. Or was it that you wouldn't conceive? You knew as well as I that the landsmeet would approve of a divorce if you were declared barren. Why, Anora? Why did you refuse to give Cailan an heir and secure our line for generations? You brought this upon us."

"Father, hush!" Anora's eyes were wild and her voice trembled. "You're talking nonsense."

"No. For the first time in five years, I'm going to speak the truth." He looked around at the assembly. "Anora and Rendon Howe were complicit in every one of the charges that have been lodged against me this day. Abandoning Cailan on the battlefield, the attempted murder of Arl Eamon, setting up Isolde as a spy in the arl's castle, aiding the escape of a blood mage and placing him in Redcliffe castle, the removal of the Cousland family… All of it. It was she, Rendon Howe, and I who planned those things, and on my orders, they were carried out. I admit my part, but I will not assume all the responsibility. She and Howe were equal partners in these conspiracies."

"You bastard!" she screamed at him. "She tricked you! Are you blind?"

Eamon spoke up. "Is there anyone here who wishes to defend the Mac Tir family against these charges after what we've all just heard?" The room was dead silent. "Then I put forth a motion to depose Anora and place Maric's blood heir Alistair on the throne." The motion went unopposed.

Alistair agreed to assume the throne. "As my first act as king, I sentence Loghain Mac Tir to death, with the sentence to be carried out immediately." Riordan tried to object, saying Loghain could go through the joining and spend his last days fighting the blight as a Grey Warden, but Alistair wouldn't hear of it. He approached Loghain with his sword drawn.

Part 3 – A New Broom Sweeps Clean

The horrified silence was broken by a woman's sobs. Polished armor captured and reflected the deep red stain of blood that surrounded the body and oozed across the floor in a widening circle.

Moments ago he was the most powerful man in Ferelden. Now his headless corpse lay at my feet, felled by the longsword that once belonged to Maric, then to Cailan.

Anora crouched in the blood by her father's side. She and Loghain had turned on each other, spilling secrets before an incredulous audience. Ignoring the fact that her lies were exposed, she hoped to elicit the nobles' sympathies with her show of tears and feigned grief—an act she rehearsed when she got news of Cailan's death. She fooled the people then because the country was in mourning for its king. They assumed the newly-widowed Anora mourned more deeply than the populace. They were wrong.

When the truth of her involvement in Cailan's death was revealed, we had to marvel at her flair for duplicity. Had we not heard the appalling truth from her own father, she might have gained some support from a few of the nobles. But Anora was a heartless, selfish bitch, desiring only power and wealth. Even now, her tears weren't for Loghain. She mourned the loss of her status, and in doing so, proved she was never worthy of it.

"Your Majesty," Arl Eamon addressed Alistair. He bowed in a gesture of loyalty and respect, and the nobles did likewise. "In light of today's revelations, what is to be done with Anora?"

Anora's grieving act ended abruptly as she leapt to her feet to challenge Eamon. "I defy you, Eamon! And you also, Alistair! I am Cailan's widow and the rightful queen…"

"Enough!" Alistair broke in. He didn't address Anora's claim directly, but responded to Eamon. "This woman is the same as her father was—a traitor, a usurper, and a murderer. She shared Loghain's crimes and she will share his punishment. Remove her from my sight, bring her to the block, and execute her without delay."

I was surprised by his harsh judgment—not because I disagreed with him, but because it wasn't like Alistair to make major decisions without a lot of prodding from me. Had I done the right thing when I'd encouraged him to look out more for his own interests and let others take care of themselves? There was a slight change in his personality after that talk. An almost imperceptible change, truth be told, but I knew him best and I observed it on occasion. He was still the same bumbling, lovable, humorous, gentle, honorable man I'd known from the day I met him at Ostagar, but he was… I wasn't quite sure. Stronger? Yes, the near-constant battles made us all stronger. More confident? Certainly, but more than that. His heart was harder. Not much, and only in the most extreme instances, but there was a new toughness that manifested when the need to be tough arose.

Anora didn't go quietly. The guards had to drag her out, but in Alistair's mind she was already as dead as her father. He was unfazed by her loud protests and virulent curses.

"Maker!" I remarked, shaking my head in disgust. "She's got the charm of the average demon."

"I can't say I ever truly liked the girl, and I didn't think her worthy to be Cailan's queen," Eamon agreed. "But to learn that she and Loghain conspired to have him killed in battle sickens me."

Arl Eamon was appointed regent, and Alistair made me the commander of his armies. Not really a new job for me, since I'd been leading the party, making all the decisions, and even consulted by Eamon and Teagan for my advice. But it was an honor nonetheless.

A wild-eyed scout burst through the door. "Darkspawn!" he shouted repeatedly. Alistair and I glanced at each other for confirmation. Neither of us sensed darkspawn. Alistair snagged the man by his tunic as he tried to run past us to Arl Eamon.

"Calm yourself and speak sense," Alistair said. "There are no darkspawn here."

The scout shook his head so vehemently I feared his neck would snap. "Not here, Warden. To the south and west, moving toward Redcliffe. Thousands of them. The entire horde, I'd say."

"Did you see an archdemon—a dragon—leading them?" I asked him.

"Dragon?" he repeated, turning those terror-filled eyes on me. "Andraste's pale flabby arse, Warden, why would you ask that? No! No dragon." He named the creatures he'd seen, counting them off on his fingers. "There were ogres, big as trees. And the other ones… the tall ones with the fancy helmets, like officers. And the tall ones without helmets that look like half-rotted corpses. And the small ones that look like darkspawn dwarves." He thought a moment and added, "And them screaming ones with the hands like knives."

"Ogres, hurlocks, genlocks, shrieks, nothing different," I muttered to myself. Why such a large horde but no archdemon?

This was a blight; I sensed it as surely as I heard the archdemon's whisperings in my sleep. Alistair was convinced of it as well. Riordan had left the landsmeet chamber and was on his way to try to learn more of the darkspawn's plans and position.

Assuming Riordan wasn't found and killed before he could report back. It was a disheartening thought that I quashed before I could utter it aloud.

Eamon left immediately for Redcliffe Castle, and we returned to the arl's Denerim estate to collect the rest of our companions. Alistair seemed comfortable leading, and I was glad to let him take command. After so many months of decision-making and defending my decisions, I was ready to turn over the reins. He decided we would rest for the night at the estate and depart for Redcliffe in the morning, since the sun was setting and we would be forced to make camp just outside Denerim.

Sten protested the delay. Alistair gave the reasons for our overnight stay, then informed Sten that if he wasn't happy with the arrangement, he could go on ahead and deal with the darkspawn on his own. "You'll recall how well that worked out for you last time," he finished.

"Authority suits you," I commended Alistair when the others were out of earshot, and added facetiously, "What happened to the shy, insecure man I used to know?"

His smile was grim. "He changed for the better, I believe, when the weight of the kingdom fell upon him."

A profound truth indeed! I couldn't imagine how he felt knowing that he would soon be leading our troops into battle, and if we survived this war, he'd be leading a country. "You made the right choice when you accepted the throne, Alistair. You were born for this."

"Yes. I thought Cailan would rule Ferelden and I would die at the end of a darkspawn's blade in the Deep Roads, never having to make a decision for myself, much less for a whole country. Now all I want is to end this blight, rebuild Ferelden's cities and reunite her people, and be the best king I can be. I trust you'll be there to lend me your wisdom, as you always have."

"Of course I'll be there," I answered, "since that sounded more like an order than a request."

He chuckled softly and gathered me into an armor-clanking embrace. "It wasn't intended to be an order." He kissed me on the cheek and released me. Embracing in armor isn't nearly as romantic as people might think. "Once we get through this blight, I have things to discuss with you. I'd tell you about it now but I want to wait for a better time, when I'm not distracted with war."

"As you wish, Your Majesty," I said with a bow.

"That title sounds so strange," he reflected. "We've joked about it, but now that it's a reality, I'm thinking I'll grow to like it."

We bid goodnight and retired to our separate quarters. Tomorrow we would begin the four-day trek to Redcliffe, and until we were there or met the horde on the way, we could not know what lay in store. So far, no one had seen evidence of an archdemon. Would we recognize it before it was in our midst? Even if the beast were revealed, could we defeat it? Or were our preparations and struggles in vain against an immortal foe?

I passed the night with those and other troubling thoughts—including the vision of Alistair beheading Loghain again and again in my mind's eye—keeping me awake. I rose before dawn, put on the layers of garments and padding and armor, sheathed my swords, and went downstairs to wait for the rest of our party.

Alistair was at breakfast, fully armored and armed as I was. I'd found Duncan's shield in the Warden's cache and was waiting for the right time to present it to him. I had hoped for a special occasion, but like Duncan and like the shield itself, practicality overrode sentiment. Alistair did get misty-eyed when he held it, but quickly resumed his warrior-king-warden persona when the others came in.

There was an absence of appetite and conversation that morning. The war occupied everyone's thoughts. Even the normally irrepressible Zev offered none of his bawdy or morbid jests. Leliana seemed to be in some kind of spiritual meditation—a pleasant change from her inappropriate comments about Zev's performance, or her equally improper observations about Alistair's physique. Morrigan refrained from making her customary verbal jabs at Alistair. Oghren's bad temper and atrocious manners were mercifully subdued. Wynne kept her intrusive advice to herself.

The only ones who seemed unaffected by the gravity of our situation were Shale and Sten. Shale was indestructible, as immortal as the archdemon itself. Sten's appetite wasn't affected. If anything, there was an air of anticipation about him. This was what he'd been sent to Ferelden to observe. Being able to participate in the war was an unexpected boon. His long wait was finally over and he was eager to engage the enemy.

Alistair stood and urged the members of the party to finish their breakfast and collect their belongings. The time had come to leave for Redcliffe.