A/N: Hi. Well, this took a bit longer than originally intended, but that was only becuase I GOT A BETAREADER! Writer of the North! You're AWESOME! And about the chapter "Unhappiness"... That was craziness. Sorry. But I liked the reaction that I got ;) LOL, I'd also like to thank Restrained Freedom. You're efforts to keep this fic moving have not gone unnoticed! Award for awesomeness. I... don't really have anything else to say, so... :)

CHAPTER 20!

When Nasuada woke, the first thing she noticed was the absence of Murtagh's calm breathing. It had been the only sound in the depth of the night, after the tavern had been closed up down stairs.
As Nasuada sat up, sunlight glinted off the small shaving mirror opposite the window, and rebounded into her eyes. She shielded them and glanced again around the tiny room. She hadn't noticed the little mirror or window last night on account of her sleep deprivation – Thorn's back just was not a proper bed by any standards. Nor had she noticed the scrap of paper tacked to the door. On second thought, that hadn't been there before.
Nasuada slid off of her cot and tore the note off its nail. It read:

Lady Nasuada,
Better accommodations shall be provided for you in Governess Lorana's home. Please arrive as quickly as possible.
- Aden

Nasuada frowned, wondering if Murtagh, being the son of the most hated member of the Forsworn as he was, would be admitted.
She herself was not quite sure about the red rider's full character, or intentions, but she had an unshakable trusting attitude toward Murtagh that could not be changed even when she tried. He didn't seem to have any malicious intentions of his own, though – only those that Galbatorix had bound him to do.
It was not her intention to mill around all day, so Nasuada combed her hair, dressed in a satiny blue dress, and set out.
She cast only a brief glance about the inn's foyer – a brief, annoyed glance. Murtagh had been her protection in Feinster, and her had gone and left her. She didn't have the good sense to be angry at the time, though. Hopefully Murtagh had enough good wit in him to keep a low profile.
As Nasuada strode gracefully out of the inn, she attracted surprised stares. Men bowed, and ladies curtsied, questioning her about the goings-on within the Varden, and her plan to march on Belatona.
She politely ignored all of them, though a few inquiries could be met with snappy retorts. Nasuada was on her way to Feinster's common's place where she was to meet her comrade, and a loyal friend to the Varden, Asher.
Asher was the Varden's strategist. Nasuada had grown up with him. She never seemed to fit in with the other children, but she could always count on Asher when she needed a friend. They seemed like an unlikely pair, him with his pasty white skin, and she so dark, but the fact that Asher could look past this was the reason why Nasuada had taken a liking to him, and still did.
Asher, as promised, was waiting outside his father's bakery, and greeted Nasuada with open arms.
"How nice to see you," Nasuada murmured into his ear. People were pointing, and shoving to get a better view.
"You as well." Asher broke the embrace, grinning broadly. "Jörmundur sent word that you were on your way. He wouldn't say why, but the whole of Feinster is buzzing about it."
Nasuada heaved a sigh. "I know." She linked her arm though Asher's and he led her inside.

The bakery was humming with activity: Children were nibbling on sweets of all sorts; parents were hastily rummaging through their pockets for an extra crown to treat themselves; knots of people were gathered in corners, gossiping. No doubt rumors about her and Asher would be circulating within the day.
The savory smells wafting through the pastry shop were enticing, but Asher, with a wave at a man who Nasuada figured to be his father, led her up an inconspicuous staircase behind the counter.
A large flat was situated atop the bakery which Asher's father owned. Nasuada found herself being directed to what was probably the largest room in the flat.
A spacious chamber met her eyes as she stepped in and looked around in awe. Who would have thought that this could sit on top of a confectionery? An entire room, devoted to war tactics, and battle plans.
Asher smiled at Nasuada's wonder. "My mother allowed me to renovate this room... just before she died."
Nasuada's spirits fell. "You're mother died?" She remembered Stella. Her delicious tarts had earned a special place in Nasuada's childhood recollections. "I'm so sorry." The memories of her own mother were cloudy in her mind. She couldn't understand how Asher could smile when his were still fresh.
"It's alright," Asher replied softly.
"How did it happen?"
"She had been ill for a while. The sickness finally overtook her last year. Now to business." Asher strode over to a table, whose area was mainly dominated by a map of Alagaësia, and a few errant pushpins which the young man immediately snatched up.
Impaling one pin into the word "Belatona," he asked, "By what means do you intend to overtake Belatona?"
Nasuada seated herself in the chair Asher had pulled from beneath the table for her. "The same way we over took this city, I suppose. Will there be a problem? I know we're short on cavalry…"
Asher passed a hand over his face. "It's a matter of finances at this point," he replied, his eyes still closed. "You can do anything – as long as you have right amount of crowns."
Nasuada frowned. Crowns. The only thing the Varden was short on. That, and morale.
"Just tell me what must be done," the lady said after a long silence. "I'll see what we can do."
"Alright," Asher began. "You're plan is to march on Belatona, correct? As if they haven't foreseen this – the city is being guarded day and night, and their barricades are much stronger than Feinster's were." He went on to say that in order to breach Belatona, the magical aspects of their barriers would have to be removed, or at least significantly weakened. This would take more power than Eragon, his guard of the twelve elfish spell casters, and all the magicians and sorcerers the Varden could muster. "The strength of one other rider would be sufficient."
It was then that Nasuada smiled. One other rider – something she had at her disposal. "That can be arranged," she said.
Asher eyed her questioningly, but no further information was forthcoming, so he carried on. "Your and King Orrin's troops will assemble just at the northern mouth of Leona Lake, and ride the current down to Belatona."
King Orrin, another problem. "I shall inform Orrin of these plans when I return to Aberon?"
"No need," Asher responded, "it sounds like he's just arrived."
The quick patter of boots being stomped matched the rate of Nasuada's pounding heart. Orrin? Here? Now? In Feinster?
A man's voice floated upstairs and through the small corridor. "Right up there, second door on the right."
Several pairs of feet trotted up the stairs, followed by several more. The doorknob turned…

Well, some of the paragraphs didn't get seperated correctly, I don't have the energy to deal with that, since it's 12 at night... Yeah. I really wanted to get this chapter out. Also, I'm updating The Secret Life tomorrow afternoon, if you've taken an intrest in that. I've had that chapter ready FORever, but unfortunately I haven't had the beta-luck I've had with story. THE END. I'll have the next chapter ready sometime next week possibly... I hope you like the work my Beta did! BEFORE YOU REVIEW (which I am hoping to God that you do, or I will verrrryyyy sad/mad) I had a good reason why Murtagh was allowed to like, wander around Feinster without Nasuada getting her panties in a knot - I just can't remeber that reason at this moment... so spare me those comments, LOL. And, REVIEW, please!

-Seastar97