Chapter 8
The victorious group descended back through the battle-ravaged keep, then toward the front gate. The group of warriors were now close enough for Matthew to see the symbols on their chest plates, and when he did, his blood boiled; Templers. He suddenly had a massive urge to tell the remaining archers on the ramparts to open fire. Before he completely lost his head and ordered the men to do so, however, he noticed that one member of the group was armored in different armor then the Templers. Squinting, he tried to make out the man's face.
With a shock, he realized that it was Alistair, and that he had almost ordered an attack on Fereldan's King.
"Oh, what can the fool possibly want now?" Morrigan's angry ranting brought him back down to earth. "Has he not intervened in our lives enough? Why does he not simply go back to his estate and lord over those below him? I'm sorry, I meant above him." "Watch your tone, apostate," Seneschal Varel growled, "You speak of our king." Morrigan opened her mouth to respond, but Matthew beat her to it. "And I suggest that you watch your tone, Seneschal; you speak to your Arlessa." Varel started, and then muttered, "My apologies, Commander." "It's alright, Varel," Matthew said, his tone lightening, "My wife does need to learn when to keep her mouth shut." This earned him a slap from Morrigan. Laughing, he turned back to his visitors.
By this time, Alistair and his former holy brothers in arms had passed through the gate, and into the fortresses courtyard. Matthew, Mhairi, and Varel immediately kneeled before him. Morrigan, of course, stayed upright. "It looks like I've arrived too late. Too bad. I rather miss the whole darkspawn killing thing." He paused, then continued, "I had wanted to come and give the Wardens a formal welcome; I certainly wasn't expecting this." Out of the corner of his eye, Matthew saw the lead templar, a women without a helmet, start fidgeting, as if she needed to be elsewhere in a hurry. Hiding a smile at this, Matthew refocused on his kings words.
"What's the situation?" Alistair asked Varel. "What darkspawn remained have fled, your majesty," Varel answered. "The Grey Wardens sent from Orlais to help us rebuild the order appear to be either dead…or missing." "Missing?" Alistair repeated; his eyebrows rose in surprise. "As in, taken by the darkspawn. Do they even take prisoners?" "I do not know, your Majesty. I know only that we cannot account for all the Wardens." "I see," Alistair replied, turning to Matthew. "At least the Hero of Fereldan is still here, and alive. That's something, right." "Try not to look too disappointed, Alistair." Matthew joked. Alistair laughed, and then turned serious again.
"You have quite the task ahead of you. I'd like to help you fight the darkspawn, but as I'm too busy ruling a country, that means you're on your own, for now." "Hey," Oghren shouted, looking indignant. "What am I, chopped nug livers?" "From the smell, that's not a bad guess," Anders commented, causing everyone except the Templers to laugh. Oghren continued, "I came here to join the Grey Wardens, and from the looks of it, you could use the extra hands. Now, where's the giant cup; I'll gargle and spit!" With a mental sigh, Matthew acknowledged that, come hell or high water, Oghren was going to go through on his decision. Turning, Matthew said, "You are NOT allowed to spit." Oghren laughed. "That's what I always say." Matthew missed whatever Mhairi and Anders said, as he was too busy trying to repress a host of highly unpleasant mental images Oghren's perverted thought process had conjured up in his head.
Finally, the female templar lost her patients. "King Alistair! Your Majesty, beware; this man is a dangerous fugitive!" Alistair looked at the templar like she had grown an extra head. "Oh, the dwarf's a bit of an ass, but he isn't-" "She means me." Anders interrupted. "This is an apostate that we in the process of bringing back to the Circle to face justice." The templar commander said, a look of hate and disgust on her face as she regarded Anders. "Oh, please," Anders scoffed. "The things you templars know about justice would fit into a thimble." You tell 'em, Anders, Matthew thought, utilizing all his self control to keep himself from saying the words out loud. "Enough," the Templar shouted. "I'll see you hang for what you've done here, you murderer!"
In a flash, Matthew remembered the two Templers who had been killed in the darkspawn attack on the keep; these templers must believe that Anders killed them. Of course they do; who or what else would harm the wonderful, lyrium-addled holy warriors. Anders protested for a moment, and then gave in, muttering about how they wouldn't believe him even if he said he was innocent. "Well, I guess there isn't anything else to say," Alistair commented sadly, and then a humorous gleam lit his eyes. "Unless, of course, you have anything to add commander?"
It took a moment for Matthew to grasp Alistair's meaning, but when he did, he couldn't keep himself from smiling. "I do." He turned to the female templar, drew himself up to his full height, and proclaimed "As Warden Commander of Fereldan, I hereby invoke the Right of Conscription. I remove this apostate into the care of the Grey Wardens; he will undergo the joining, and will fight the darkspawn within Fereldan."
The Templar looked as if her birthday had been cancelled. "WHAT! NEVER!" She turned to Alistair, and shouted, "Your Majesty, you cannot allow this apostate to escape us; you cannot allow an Arl to place himself above you and the Maker." Alistair looked at her, and said, in a falsely sad voice, "I'm sorry, ser, but he has not acted as the Arl of Amaranthine, but as Warden Commander of Fereldan; I cannot overturn his discussion to invoke the Right of Conscription." Matthew, who had travelled with Alistair for over a year now, could read his body language enough to know that Alistair also meant, nor do I want to.
Eyes narrowed with fury, the female templar turned, and marched out of the fortress, the rest of the templers following her, leaving only two Fereldan royal guards with Alistair, who turned to Matthew and said, "Look, I know that you're a bit short-handed here, but this is all you've got. You have to defend the Arling from the darkspawn, and rebuild the Fereldan Grey Wardens. I wish I could offer more aid, but the entire country looks like this right now, so I hope that you can make do with what you have at hand." "Have some faith, Alistair," Matthew replied, with his usual grin. "I assembled an army, ended a civil war, and defeated a Bight with little more than 8 friends and a large dog at my back; with this Arling, I'll probably conquer Orlais, Nevarra, and the Free Marches."
Laughing, Alistair said, "I believe you. Good luck, my friend." And with that, he turned, and began the walk back to Denerim.
One hour later…
"Before we do anything else commander," Varel said in the throne room of Vigil's Keep, "there is an urgent matter we must take care of. Right now, I know of only one living Warden assigned to all of Fereldan. That should be rectified." "Right," Matthew replied, "We had best see to it. Prepare the ritual, I'll see to the recruits."
After the darkspawn blood was prepared, Oghren, Anders, and Mhairi lined up before Warden-Commander Matthew Cousland, and Seneschal Varel; Morrigan stood off to the side, watching the ritual take place. She had never seen a Joining before, and had insisted that she attend this one, despite Matthew's protests.
Morrigan was jolted from her daydreaming when Matthew stepped toward the recruits, and recited the words that had been said since the very first Joining, during the first Blight:
"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows as we stand vigilant; join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And if you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day, we will join you."
The first to drink of the foul concoction was the equally foul dwarf, Oghren. Upon being handed the goblet of darkspawn blood, he turned up his nose, and said, "What's this? The sampler size? Are you trying to say something about my HEIGHT!" Varel muttered, "This is the goblet we've always used." Oghren grumbled, and then downed the blood. Most new recruits eye's rolled back into their heads, and then passed out, but Oghren merely smacked his lips and murmured, "Not bad." "Uhg," Varel said. "Maker help us all."
Next was Anders, the fool apostate. Appearing apprehensive, said that if he woke up on a slaver's ship that he would blame the lot of them, and then drank the blood. His eyes rolled up, he swayed on his feet, and fell to the floor with a thud. Varel ran over to him, checked his pulse, and reported that Anders would survive.
Finally, it was Mhairi's turn. Taking the cup, she whispered, "I have awaited this moment," and drank.
Suddenly, she began convulsing horribly, and fell to her hands and knees, clutching her throat. Retching, she vomited across the floor, and began coughing horribly. Finally, she fell to the ground, and, with a few final twitches, she died.
Morrigan stared at the former knight's corpse in horror. She rarely cared about the welfare of others, and before she met Matthew, she had cared at all, but this was different. Morrigan now understood why her love had been so reluctant to allow Oghren, his friend, to join the Wardens; no one deserved such a fate.
"I'm so sorry, Mhairi." Morrigan heard her husband say. "May the Maker watch over you." Varel added.