Sergeant Maverlies found him. "Commander, the men cleared the rubble. You'll have to see what they found for yourself."
She led the Wardens down the tunnel, to a darkspawn constructed staircase. Voldrik was waiting for them.
"Here we are," he said as he reached the edge. "Look at her."
"I knew it led to the Deep Roads. I could smell it," siad Voldrik as he knelt and examined the stairs. "It looks safe enough to climb down. Find a way to stop the darkspawn from coming back this way."
"Good luck," Sergeant Maverlies added.
A strange, glowing, obviously magical apparatus. Containing a demon no doubt and for a change no one was activating it.
"Dead end?" Nathaniel asked.
Faren nodded. "Perhaps that other cave-in we noticed."
"Why are we clearing the cave in instead of caving more things in?" Anders asked.
"Because there are at least eight different paths down here, and they must converge past this point," Nathaniel said.
"Aye, best to hold them off in one area," said Oghren. He then stopped as he moved closer to one wall. "Commander, look at this."
Faren moved towards him, and examined the edge. "It's a door."
"There must be some way too…"
They both sighed and looked back at the apparatus.
He stepped away from the dead ogre, withdrew his hammer, and looked at the strange mechanism on the wall. Nathaniel turned towards him to say something, and the man's eyes suddenly went wide as he reached for his bow. Faren immediately rolled to the side, narrowly escaping the ogre's fist slamming down where he'd been standing a moment before.
"It got back up!" Oghren yelled.
"It's possessed by a demon!" Anders yelled back.
Faren tried to go for his hammer, and then had to roll out of the way again. The ogre turned faster than he would have expected, and he narrowly dodged a blow from the things other fist. Oghren smashed his axe into the back of the thing's legs. It staggered forward, then kicked its leg out backwards, sending Oghren flying. Faren went for his hammer again, and the ogre grabbed at him. He threw himself backwards, and the thing's fingertips brushed by close enough to just touch his armour. His back hit the wall, and the thing grinned at him as it came in for another blow.
He kicked off the wall and rolled, going between the thing's legs. The thing turned to give chase, and Nathaniel caught it in the eye with an arrow. It dropped.
They stood there for a minute, weapons in hand. "Is it dead?" Oghren asked, getting to his feet.
"Anders?"
"I… think so"" Anders frowned. "Someone should go poke it with a stick, just to be sure. I nominate Oghren."
"Throw a spell at it before I throw you at it," Oghren grunted.
Anders nodded and threw a small fireball at it. There was the acrid odor of roast darkspawn, and it failed to react. "Yep, it's dead."
"Not the first time," Oghren grumbled."
"Nice shot," Faren told Nathaniel.
"Thank you."
A few minutes later, Voldrik and Sergeant Maverlies walked down the corridor.
"Commander, the ancestors favour us indeed. This is a dwarven barrier door." Voldrik caressed the mechanism. "Before old Kal'Hirol fell, she nearly had it complete. Only the mechanism needs work." He sighed. "If they'd only had a bit more time to finish, Orzammar wouldn't be all alone."
"Can you finish what Kal'Hirol began?"
"Won't take me long to fix up the mechanism. Poor sods were nearly done."
Half an hour later, Voldrik had fixed the mechanism and the doors began to close.
"This is proper dwarven engineering. You stand back now," Voldrik warned. They watched as about three heavy door slammed shut sealing the entire tunnel. "Should buyers a few years, a decade if we're lucky."
"That'll give us time to devise a more permanent solution," said Sergeant Maverlies.
Faren nodded. "Let's go back to the keep."
"Of course."
Faren soon learned that there were certain things that needed to be done, like trying to find some proper granite for the keeps wall so that Voldrik could reinforce them. Also, Wade practically begged him to assist him with creating fine works of art with any rare materials he might find.
After his talk with Wade, he found the dwarf that practically blew up his keep setting some sort of store. The dwarf looks half-crazy which deeply concerned Faren immensely and was beginning to worry if this dwarf would blow up the keep or something.
"Your arranged quite the welcome for us, didn't you, Commander!" He laughed. "Not that I mind—gave me the chance to do some proper testing."
"You're the one who blew up those darkspawn, right?"
"Oh, kind of you to notice. Aye, that was my work." He gave a half bow. "The name is Dworkin Glavonak. Some call me Dworkin 'the Mad'. That don't ruffle my beard, though. You have to be a little made in my line of research."
"Did you invent these explosives?" He'd seen some used to seal tunnels. It was incredible. Cut a hole in the rock, put in a little cylinder, then run like hell as a mountain comes down. If it was such a shame that in had these back at Ostagar.
"I developed these particular formulations, but it's the qunari who perfected the art. That just gets in my craw. Sullen, ashen-skin giants shouldn't be allowed to outsmart dwarves." Dworkin shrugged. "So I've been conducting experiments on lyrium sand and other volatile ingredients."
Faren looks quite interested. "Is there any way I can help?"
"If you've a mind to, aye. We used up all the explosives on those darkspawn. I can make more, but I'm out of lyrium sand. Lyrium dust is all over the place, but that's too fine." He gestured at some of the blue substance on the workbench. "Dust's good for fuses, but not the 'boom' I'm looking for. With real lyrium sand, I can set the lads to work."
Faren nodded. "We'll talk later." He then looked back at him with slight concern and added, "Don't blow yourself up."
"I'll be careful," he assured and then bit his lip. "Careful-ish."
He wandered around the keep and suddenly came across a cat licking its paws. He remembered how Anders had mentioned about Mr. Wiggums and while he found that his fixation with cats was strange, he needed to make and feel more at home.
Anders caught it almost out of reflex. Then he blinked. "Oh! Look at the cute little kitty!" It meowed at him adorably. "He looks like Mr. Wiggums—" He sighed. "But I don't know if I should keep him. We got into some dangerous scraps."
He had a point, a cat will be in danger when facing again say army of self-aware darkspawn.
"He can stay at the keep, then."
"I suppose…" A cat. He had a cat. Of his own. His Commander had fought Templars for him. And then given him a cat. His own cat. "Well, I'll keep him just for a while. Until I find somewhere safer. Is that okay with you, kitty?" He was going to need a pillow, and a collar, and some mackarel. "I'll call you Ser Pounce-a-lot! You can stay in my pack. Just for a little while, yes." He tucked the kitten carefully into the wide pocket in his robes. It curled into a ball, and started to purr loudly.
Faren shook his head and was about to make is leave, but Anders stopped him. "Wait, I've been meaning to ask. I know enough about Templars to know that you're using their techniques, but you're a dwarf."
Faren turned and looked at him. "I learned from King Alistair, when we were on the road together, he was once a Templar himself you know."
Anders sighed. "And I really like that guy."
"He wasn't ordained into the Order, but he knew enough to teach me without using lyrium and it has come in handy in more than one occasion," said Faren. "Anyway, we head back to Amaranthine, you coming?"
"Oh, yes. Yes sir." His own room. His own cat. The ability to walk openly down the street and breathe free air. So what if there were a few darkspawn?
They were walking towards the gate when Nathaniel quickened his pace. An elderly elf was walking towards the hastily erected structures serving as housing. "Samuel? Groundskeeper Samuel? Is that you?"
The elf turned around. "Who…?" He stepped backwards in surprise, and then a warm smile crossed his face. "Maker's breath, if it isn't little Nate! I'd know that face anywhere!"
"Groundskeeper, I'm overjoyed that you stayed on." A note of desperation entered Nathaniel's voice. "Please, do you know how my brother died?" He swallowed. "And my sister? I…" His voice hitched just slightly. "I was in the Free Marches."
"Your brother died in the war, but Lady Delilah…" Samuel put a hand on Nathaniel's shoulder. "Don't you know? She isn't dead, son, not that I know of. Last I heard, she married a storekeep in Amaranthine. Don't know which one. Poor girl."
His sister was alive. After seeing Adria, he hadn't dared hope… But his sister was alive. "Did you hear that? My sister's alive!"
The Commander frowned. "Why did you think she was dead?"
Nathaniel sighed. "I knew about my mother, and I heard my brother might be dead. I suppose… I just assumed that Delilah was dead, too." He turned to the man effectively owned him. "Could we ask around the shops, next time we're in Amaranthine?"
"We could take a look, yes." The Commander nodded.
"Thank you. I would be interested to know just what happened to her." And to learn the truth.
The moment they entered into the city the Commander went straight to the market. Nathaniel followed. The past few days had been… interesting. He still hated the man friends, but he was starting to rethink killing them. The man was the best chance they had to deal with the darkspawn. And he no longer really cared for his odds. He scanned the market, and stopped short.
"Delilah? Is that really you?"
She turned to him, and her face lit up. "Nathaniel! I had feared the worst!"
They stood there for a moment, hugging. He looked at her. Her fine silk gowns were nowhere to be seen. In fact, she was dressed rather like a peasant. "Times must have been hard, Delilah." The Vigil was in a state, but… they could find a place for her, and the Commander had been reasonable enough. "But you can do better than this. Come back to the estate until we find somewhere else." He had friends still, in the Free Marches.
"What?" She laughed. "Oh, Nathaniel! I didn't marry Albert out of desperation. I adore him!" She gestured. "I was so glad to get away from Father's evil—this life is so much better."
He blinked. "Father's evil? Isn't that overstating things a little? He got caught up in politics…"
"You weren't here. You didn't see what he did, Nathaniel." She shook her head. "I had to beg forgiveness to Queen Elissa for what he did to her family. What he did was… terrible. Fortunately she was quite forgiving and didn't blame me for what he did." She had herself and shuddered slightly. "You want the culprit who destroyed our family? It was him, without question."
"I… had no idea."
"Of course you did. But you always worshipped father, right from when you were a little boy." She took his hand. "Come, brother. Let us sit and catch up a bit, shall we?"
He looked over his shoulder, at the man who had killed his father. Faren nodded, and gestured for him to go. He followed Delilah into her house.
While Nathaniel was having catching up with Delilah, Faren made his way to find the merchant Mervis to discuss about his missing caravans.
He found the Mervis not too far away from the market. "Warden-Commander! Thank the Maker you're finally here. I was afraid our messages never got through to you!"
"Are you Mervis?"
"Yes. Thank you for coming to the guild. We need your help." He spread his hands. "Our caravans are being attacked. The wagons are burned to ashes, and there... there have been no survivors." He shuddered. "It's gotten worse lately. People from the neighboring villages have found guards torn limb from limb and left in the village square."
It sounded like a straightforward problem which only meant that it was going to get complicated fast. "This needs to stop, immediately."
Mervis smiled and nodded. "Yes. That much is clear." He gestured towards the road. "Whatever it is, it's completely crippled trade between Amaranthine and Denerim. No one wants to travel the road through the Wending Wood. Can the Grey Wardens help at all?"
"I will investigate it immediately," he assured. Well, as soon as they finish their business in Amaranthine.
"Oh, Maker bless you and watch over you. If you can stop the killings, the Merchant's Guild will make a hefty donation to your organization. You have my promise."
Faren escorted justice towards the Chantry, but he stopped to look at the statue of Andraste.
"Curious," he said he examined the statue. "This man I inhabit once worshipped this woman, her and the one they call the Maker." He then looked at him. "Do you believe in this Maker as he did?"
Faren shook his head. "Of course not, I'm a dwarf, we worship the Stone."
Justice frowned. "In the Fade, some spirits believe a creator gave us life and separated us from this world. But do they believe that only because they see the Maker in the dreams of mortals? So much of the Fade is created by spirits desperate to emulate your kind."
Faren looked at him curiously. "You mean the spirits don't know?"
"Many do not care. Demons live in the moment, but those of us who seek something greater… we wonder." He then looked down at the city. "Here, you can be certain that what ears has always been. Is that not comforting?"
Faren nodded. "Yes, I guess it would be, in comparison."
"Faith requires structure and belief. In the Fade, we have neither." He then looked back at Faren. "I see why the demons are so eager to pass through the Veil. It is something to consider."
They ended in the Chantry and found a praying at the altar. He stood back slightly to allow Justice to approach. And hoped the woman wouldn't raise an alarm.
"Aura. Please do not be alarmed. I do not wish to frighten you."
Tear tracks stained her face. "You. You are the…" Her voice hitched. "In my husband's body."
Justice's voice was gentle. "I am a spirit of Justice. I meant your husband no harm. I would ease your distress, had I the power."
"I… knew, when he left, that this could happen. He told me. His father died a Grey Warden, too."
"Tell me, is there anything I can do for you? Tell me and I will do it."
She drew a deep breath. "Avenge him, spirit. I will wait for his ashes a little longer, if that means that whoever did this to him will pay." She laid her hand on the spirit's shoulder.
He looked at it, then back to her. "The darkspawn. Yes, I understand."
Faren took a step forward. "I have a friend who is attempting to separate him from your husband's body"
Aura nodded and walked away. He watched her go. Justice shook his head. "And she is gone. Did I…" He turned to Faren. "Do the right thing?"
Faren, didn't know if there was a correct or wrong answer, but he did do his best. "I think so, yes."
"She loved this man a great deal, and he loved her. I…" Justice considered his words for a moment. "Envy what they had. I must think on this more. But another time. Thank you for bringing me here"
Faren stopped to speak with the Revered Mother, and passed her a small pouch of coins. She nodded. "I will see that she is cared for."
"Thank you." He left to catch up to the spirit.
He found them emerging from outside the Chantry. There were so many thoughts going through his head. With what Delilah had told him… He and Fergus Cousland had been friends, once and she was friends with Elissa Cousland. Fergus had been one of the few that had written to him when he was in the Free Marches. To think that his father had murdered his friend's family was unthinkable.
"She said she wants me to come back, once all this is done. Meet her husband." He smiled. "She's due by the spring." He was going to be an uncle. He met his commander's eyes. "She seems happy. She said Father deserved to die. I still can't believe it."
"You don't believe her?"
"I thought he had his reasons. It was a war, for Andraste's sake." Even if he had his reasons, the scope of what he'd done… Delilah had not pulled her punches when she'd told him what happened. He shook his head. Could he have influenced his father down a different path? "Before I went to the Free Marches, he was never… how could he have changed so much?"
"It's not your fault, Nathaniel."
"What if I'd never left? I didn't have much choice, but still…" He sighed. "I wish I'd known some of this sooner. I feel like such a fool." He shook his head. "Now, please… let's get back to our business. I need to think."
He could tell the Commander was still look at him as he looked at the front of the Chantry, but he didn't care. He sighed. "It figures, actually."
He thought he'd spoken quietly, but the dwarf heard him. "What does?"
"There used to be another statue here." He gestured to the marks on the ground. "It was of Byron Howe, my great-uncle. He died in the rebellion, helping King Maric reclaim his throne. Yet his statue is gone. All because of what my father did."
"That's a shame," said the Commander sincerely.
"It's truly is." He nodded. His gaze went to the Chantry's facade. "There's a long line of heroes in my family. The Howes have been around since Calenhad. Now it's all gone." He clenched his fists. "Curse my father and his idiot ambition. He lost everything for us, didn't he?"
"It's up to you to turn that around."
There was a challenge in those words. And… A quiet confidence. Nathaniel felt himself smile. "Not too much pressure, right?" He shrugged. "I wonder what happened to the old statue. Likely propping up the side of the chantry or something. Poor Arl Byron. Ah, statues are for pigeons. I don't want to look at it."
"Nathaniel, I'm a—" He caught himself, "I was a casteless and let me tell you nugs and rats were treated with more respect than us. It was all because of one ancestor in my family, but I was able to change that around and I got a statue, though there aren't any pigeons in Orzammar. If I can do it, so can you."
Nathaniel was deeply touched by those words and smiled. "I appreciated."