"It's not just a question of obligation, but of blood…"
Blood. It always comes back to blood.
Blood turning to mud in the streets. Blood running across the stone floor. Blood good enough to accept the taint, to be shed for all of them but not noble enough. Not pure enough. Not human enough.
She couldn't shake the last images from her dream; normally she didn't dream about him. If it had come true she never would have heard those words or felt them cut so deeply. But she also never would have been in a position where they could cause pain. Drops of blood stained the parchment, slowly spreading over the ledgers she had been hunched over for hours now; the quill had snapped and opened a jagged tear in her finger. With her unmarred hand, she rubbed her chest where the blood had been, eyes unseeing.
"This will never do." She heard her steward sigh as he leaned over her shoulder, breaking her maudlin trail of thought.
She leaned back as she stuck the wounded digit in her mouth, frowning, "This is what it's come to; from stopping the Blight, to killing Mother, to going blind staring at ledgers."
Harl bustled around her, clucking his tongue as he handed her a cloth for her finger and gathered up the stacks of papers. "Ser, I think you should get some fresh air. The numbers, while important, can wait, you should dine with the men, let them see their hero."
"You mean the one that is responsible for changing their lives, and arguably not for the better. I will never get used to it." Harl ignored her as he opened the shutters to allow a soft breeze in, now that the papers were safely stored. Her bad moods always preceded her departure and from the look on her face, she hadn't slept well at all.
"I'm still planning on leaving tomorrow, so if there is anything that you direly need me to go over, tell me now; otherwise it's all in your more-capable hands."
He squinted at some of her work and made a face, "No, I think you've wreaked enough havoc on this poor parchment. Leave any special instructions in the drawer as per usual. If our paths don't cross again, Maker be with you and safe journeys to you, Warden." It had been bumpy after the death of Varel, but over the many years, Harl proved to be more than capable and he quickly adapted to the Warden and her absences.
The afternoon meal flew by; simple but filling fare and good company - Harl was no fool in how to cheer her up. She barely touched her food as she was frequently interrupted when fellow Wardens wished her well; she could swear that soldiers gossiped worse than a coven of old maids.
She elbowed the man sitting next to her, "I bet you'll be glad when I'm gone again, eh Commander?"
Osred Ventris was a barrel-chested soldier from Gwaren she found running the garrison after Loghain's death. He was a gifted leader over his soldiers and while not loquacious, he was more than capable at interfacing with the nobles and Weisshaupt.
Ventris' deep laugh boomed in the mess hall, "Not as much as I am glad when I see you return, Tabris. Usually means there are at least a hundred less darkspawn out there for the rest of us." The rest of the table laughed and toasted her.
She rose from her seat, "Gentlemen, I have to find Alder and there's a mountain man I owe a spar to. Until we meet again." She gave them a salute and turned on her heel, about to leave when her name was called out.
"Calitae, are you coming out tonight?" It was Gyfford, a fairly new recruit who still hadn't lost the stars from his eyes when he looked at the Hero of Fereldan.
Laughing as she looked over her shoulder, she gave a half-shrug, "I didn't realize it was that time already - I'll see how my preparations go. If I don't make it, you can have my share of ale!" His neighbors pounded on his back as he saluted her with his mug. She left the hall to a chorus of "Maker watch over you," and other blessings.