In the Keep, despite how Izarre's mood had significantly soured, the Seneschal knew that there were some urgent matters to take care of. "Right now, I know of only one living Warden assigned to all of Ferelden other than the King himself. That should be rectified," he said to the grumpy young man leaning against a far wall by himself while the other strays he had picked up were busy talking amongst themselves in various places around the main hall. Oghren had found a wine cask bigger than his entire body and had decided to completely forgo the use of a mug to drain the barrel while Anders continued to make cheesy small talk with an eye-rolling Mhairi. "Despite their…unique talents, the others could aid you considerably."

With a heavy sigh, the Commander nodded. "Fine," he grumbled as he pulled himself away from his sulking post and moved to stand at the head of the room next to Varel. "Let's begin the Joining, then."

"As you wish, Commander. Please everyone, gather around." It didn't take much time to prepare the goblet and everyone who was participating stood in line under watchful eyes. "The time has come for us to begin the Joining. I shall speak the words that have been said since the first." Clearing his throat, Varel held the goblet up and Izarre looked at it with an uneasy gaze. He remembered his Joining all too well. "Join us, brother and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you." Turning to the Dwarf first, the goblet held out. "From this moment forth, Oghren, you are a Grey Warden."

"What's this?" scoffed the Firebeard. "The sampler size? Are you trying to say something about my height, eh?"

"Er…this is the goblet we've always used," the Seneschal explained as he looked to Izarre for assistance, only to see the Commander covering his mouth as he turned away in laughter.

"Really?" the stout man asked in disbelief. "Huh." With a shrug, he drank from the cup he was offered and immediately felt dazed and burned by the tainted blood. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, but instead of passing out like most recruits, a large blench escaped from his lips. "Not bad." A round of snickering hit Izarre again and he waved for Varel to continue as he desperately tried to compose himself.

"…Maker help us." With a drawn out sigh at both the Prince-Consort and the freshly added Warden, the Seneschal moved on to the frisky Mage. "From this moment forth, Anders, you are a Grey Warden."

"So we need to drink darkspawn blood? That's it? Well all right, but if I wake up two weeks from now on a ship bound for Rivain in nothing but my smallclothes and a tattoo on my forehead, I'm blaming you." Raising an eyebrow, Izarre had to ask.

"…How many times has that happened you to before?"

"You really don't want to know," quipped the Healer before taking a sip from the cup. Like Oghren, his eyes also rolled up to show nothing but their whites before he made a bit of a gurgling sound and passed out. Kneeling over to check for signs of life, Varel turned to give the Commander a nod.

"He lives and will awaken in time." With the Mage down for the count, the goblet was finally passed along to Mhairi.

"I have awaited this moment," she smiled confidently and took her drink. There was a burn in the back of her throat as expected, but then there was a sudden pain and violent choking. Grabbing her own neck, she struggled to breathe being only able to cough while foaming at the mouth. As she fell to her knees, the last thing she heard was Varel's apologies.

I am sorry, Mhairi," he said the last bit of life left her body. "May the Maker watch over you now." Izarre frowned at the sight of the fallen Bodyguard before waving servants over to take her body from the room.

"Give her the proper burial rights and store her ashes. She was the first to fall of the new order here in Ferelden, but will not be the last. Take Anders to a private room to rest as well and outfit him to proper attire. He is no longer a runaway Circle mage, understood?"

"What about the Dwarf?" one of the staff asked as they watched amusingly as Oghren had somehow found his way back to the wine barrel even in his condition.

"He…will be fine. That is all." With a bow, the called-upon helpers left carrying Mhairi to be cremated and Anders away to rest.

"Poor Mhairi," frowned Varel as he waved his arms. "You can come forward now!" he yelled at the two others pacing by the main entrance. A middle-aged man dressed in heavy armor followed by an elderly woman in civilian clothes came storming in, arguing as they approached.

"The Commander must be informed about the Deep Roads entrance," yelled the male dressed for battle. "It could be their base of operation."

"You'd have the Wardens chase a rumor, then, Captain?" the woman asked as she stared with a bit of contempt. "And even if it proves true, unless the Pilgrim's Path is cleared by the time your army assembles, they'll have nothing to eat but shoe leather."

"Garevel. Woolsey. The Commander has had a long day," Varel interrupted them. Shaking his head, he turned to face Izarre.

"Yes, the Commander has," the tired Warden responded. "I need to go check on Anders and someone make sure that you keep that wine barrel full for Oghren. You don't want to see him sober." Bowing, he left to go find out where they had put his new comrade and was pointed in the direction of a servant's quarters that was no longer occupied because of the slaughter earlier that day. Creeping in slowly, he shut the door behind himself and used the candlelight to see his way around. As instructed, there was a new set of armor waiting for the Healer arranged on a clothing's dummy. Instead of a ratty, dress-like robe, this was more suitable for combat. There was a padded green and tan jacket garnished with black feathers on the shoulders with matching pants and laced-up boots. There was even a new staff for Anders to wield as well once he woke up. Pulling up a stool, Izarre took a nearby clean washcloth and bowl of water to tend to the post-Joining fever since he had no bearing on how to use any sort of healing magic. The only thing he could do was dip his finger into the liquid to make it cooler.

"Oh…That feels lovely. Thank you," Anders mumbled as he opened his eyes to see his Commander treating him with care. With a smile, he moved his hand up to caress the other Warden's face, but Izarre moved out of the way.

"You're going to be a bit dizzy, but you'll come out of it soon," he said as he tossed the towel down to splat over Ander's face as a clear sign of his firm rejection. It made Ander's chuckle though as he removed the tossed cloth from covering eyes back to his forehead.

"Are you tending to Mhairi and the Dwarf then, or am I just special?" Rolling his eyes, Izarre sighed and shook his head.

"Oghren cures everything that ails him with…well…ale and Mhairi…" There was a pause as he looked away to stare back at the new set of armor. "She didn't make it."

"She didn't? Oh…I see…I suppose that's the risk we all took," Anders frowned as he sat up, but the look in his eyes was distant. "Did anyone die when you had your Joining?" To this, the Commander nodded.

"Yes, one died from the Joining and the other died by the sword…"

"By the sword? Were there darkspawn crashing the party?"

"No, if you are conscripted and refuse the joining, you will be killed for cowardice." Looking surprised, Anders stood up and returned the towel to its bowl.

"Are you serious? That's…"

"It's what it has to be. The Grey Wardens are a second chance, but also a death sentence…Though to be fair, most people here are because it's their last chance to redeem themselves anyway. If not for my conscription, I would have likely died when my parents were killed. If not at the manor itself from Howe's troops, I would have stupidly tried to take Howe on by myself and would have lost. I would have never met Alistair and…well. To most of us, this is the better route. Now come on, change your clothes and meet us back in the main hall. We have things to discuss." Even though Anders was still uneasy about his current situation, he did look at his new wardrobe with some fascination and began to get dressed as Izarre left to return to the main hall once again.

Oghren had made a full recovery by drinking himself back to health and Varel was still playing the diplomat between the elderly woman and the solider. "Commander," he said when he saw Izarre's return. "Are you ready for us?" Before the Warden could answer, he was already being addressed for introductions.

"Warden-Commander," the women in village attire began. "A pleasure to meet you. I am Mistress Woolsey, sent by the order of the First Warden at Weisshaupt. I am to act as treasurer of the arling of Amaranthine. He believed local men could not be trusted for this post."

"One of those local men is right here, Mistress Woolsey," grumbled the Seneschal.

"I have every confidence in the Vigil's loyalty in matter of arms. But gold corrupts even the most resolute soul." Turning her attention back to the Commander, she continued. "Ser, the arling is on the brink of economic collapse. Trade must flow. Merchant caravans are being systematically attacked somewhere along the Pilgrim's Path. It is the only route that can reliably provision an army, feed a city, and maintain civilization."

"So, how do I deal with this?" Izarre asked after calmly holding his hand up to stop the berating for just a moment.

"In the city of Amaranthine, there is a trader, Mervis, whose caravans have been hit particularly hard. He may know where along the road the darkspawn, or whatever they are, are striking."

"That's enough. I will look into the matter. Varel, who is this other man? Another recruit?"

"No, this is Ser Garevel, the new captain of the guard."

"I have a matter to bring to your attention," the armored man bowed. "But first things first, my predecessor, Captain Rullens, and much of the senior staff were inside the Keep proper at the time. How they met their fates is unknown. All we know is darkspawn swarmed the Keep. I've also talked with the dwarf Voldrik earlier. It's his belief, and I concur, that they came from the Keep itself. The deep cellars go very deep indeed. Voldrick suspects the darkspawn found a hidden route into the Keep.

"So we have a direct line between us and the horde underground as well as talking darkspawn? Wonderful."

"Talking?" the Captain asked a bit flabbergasted. "That is…disturbing, Commander. But all throughout the lands, we've heard rumors. Tales of new darkspawn…terrifying ones, forged out of nightmare and shadow. Something grave is afoot."

"And how many soldiers actually survived the attack?"

"Barely any, truth be told. And none of the Wardens. But there are many soldiers still out patrolling the roads between here and Amaranthine. We can recover from this."

"What of the other news?" the Commander asked as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Potentially urgent at that. The Orlesians…Wardens, I mean, began gathering information while they were here. The most promising lead they found was a wild tale a couple of hunters told. These hunters, Colbert and….well, the other one…claim to have stumbled across an entrance to the Deep Roads. Darkspawn all over the place, they said. And this was before the fiends appeared throughout the whole arling. The Wardens were just about to send someone to track down Colbert."

"So, you're saying that they may have found a breeding ground?"

"These hunters, they are in Amaranthine probably with the refugees outside the gate if you go looking for them, Commander."

"If you are quite done," the Seneschal butted in. "We have other business. Orlais sent a dozen Wardens to the Vigil to await your arrival. Nearly all died in the attack, but Kristoff is still in the field." This at least peak Izarre's interest of having another Warden already beyond the Joining to call upon.

"Where is he? Do you know?"

"The Orlesian Wardens were uneasy that the darkspawn weren't going to ground with the Blight ended, so Kristoff was sent to track down some leads. A fortnight ago, he left in a bustle. As best we figure, he went to the city. It seems as if the darkspawn have found some other purpose beyond the call of the Archdemon," Varel shuddered at the thought.

"I'll find him," Izarre reassured the unhinged man and turned back to fetch his current followers. Oghren had come off the wine cask long enough to realize it was time to head out once again. As they were leaving, Anders finally joined them in his new outfit, still petting at the feathers upon his shoulders to smooth them down. Coming down the stairs back outside to the courtyard, they were stalled once again by a female guard at the bottom of the flight.

"Blimey, Commander of the Grey!" she exclaimed suddenly and caused the equally alarmed man to stop in his tracks. "Please hold, I have some messages for you," she mumbled as she held out a few sealed missives she had been apparently keeping safe for a while based on the state of the crinkled paper and bent corners. Opening them one at a time, Izarre brow creased as he read the requested favors before handed them to Anders.

"Am I the bloody secretary now?" the Healer grumbled and read them as well since they were in his possession, scoffing at a few before putting them away in his satchel.

"Also a while back, they caught a thief in the Vigil," the female solider began to explain. "Took four Wardens to capture him. Gave one of the Wardens a black eye, he did! Half-joking, they said he might make a good recruit." Raising his brows, the Commander looked interested now.

"Where is he then?"

"He's in the dungeon, ser. That building over there," she pointed out.

"Thank you. Remain on your watch." With a shallow bow, Izarre turned to walk in that direction but stopped when Anders paused with his eyes fixated on a statue of Andraste.

"Look at that," he whistled as he was joined by his commanding officer. "Was Andraste really that much of a looker? Don't you think she would have been, I don't know, a barbarian?"

"…It's a statue. Why are you looking for realism? It's just an icon."

"Just wondering aloud. After all, Andraste did exist, didn't she? What would she have thought of the Circle of Magi? Forcing mages to fight demons are be made Tranquil?" Considering Anders question seriously for a moment, the young Warden could only shrug.

"She'd probably be confused. How would you feel if you were thrust into a world where people did horrible deeds in your name whether you believe in them or not? Not just the Circle," he commented. "Though it was my understanding that mages fight demons because they are plagued by them otherwise, aren't they? Regardless of if they are part of the Circle or not? Isn't the idea to train you with your own kind so you're better equipped to fight them off?"

"Maker, you really didn't grow up there, did you? Even as a mage yourself?" Anders sighed and looked back up at the statue. "No doubt you're right about her being confused though. Seems to me that Andraste counseled men to seek their own path to the Maker, but the Chantry uses her words as a reason to collar us just for being who we are."

"Perhaps, but we are dangerous."

"Sure, but we're not dragons. We can think for ourselves. Usually." Shaking off his anger, he reeled it back before making an attempt to keep things light. "Oh well. She's still quite a looker, for a prophet. I'm just saying." Still, he had already shown his pent-up frustration and bitterness to the Commander, who was not likely to forget that side of him anytime soon. After heading to the dungeon to check on the rowdy prisoner, they were stopped again by yet another guard.

"Ah, Commander! Good thing you're here!" the male solider smiled as he stood in front of the locked cage. "This one's been locked up three nights, now. Good men died while this one was protected in his cell." Looking towards the cell's bars, Izarre evaluated the dirty man that was locked up behind them. He had a strong jawline and messy dark hair that was pulled back to stay out of his face in tattered clothes seemingly either given to him by those in the Keep or picked up along the way like with most refugees in the area.

"Who is he?" the Warden asked.

"He won't give a name. All I know is he was caught poking around the estate in the middle of the night. I'd say he was just a thief, but it took four Gray Wardens to capture him. You best be careful. Whoever he is, he's no ordinary burglar, that's for sure." Keeping his eyes fixated on the man, Izarre stood a step closer with caution as if he were approaching a wild bear.

"Leave us. All of you," he said without looking away. "That's an order."

"As you wish, Commander," the guard smiled and turned to shuffle even Anders and Oghren back outside. Once the prison was cleared, Izarre unlocked the gate and stepped inside to square off.

"Well, if it isn't the great hero, conqueror of the Blight and vanquisher of all evil," the Prisoner said with a gruff, sarcastic tone. "Aren't you supposed to be ten feet tall? With lightning bolts shooting out of your eyes?"

"I can't do lightning yet," the Commander replied. "So no need to be insulting."

"Somehow I just thought my father's murderer would be…more impressive." Pacing back and forth in front of the disheveled man, the Warden put on a grin.

"Father? I've killed a lot of men, so you're going to have to be more specific."

"I am Nathaniel Howe!" the locked up man shouted. "My family owned these lands until you showed up. Do you even remember my father?" The pacing stopped as Izarre narrowed his eyes.

"Do you remember mine?" he snapped back. "Because yours was more than happy to slaughter my entire family!"

"That was war!" Nathaniel had to take a step back before he did something he would regret even more. "Look, I came here…I thought I was going to try to kill you. To lay a trap for you…but then I realized I just wanted to reclaim some of my family's things. It's all I have left." The sentiment was enough to calm Izarre down as he also took a step away to reevaluate the situation.

"…Just how much do you even know about your father?"

"If you're asking whether I knew what he was up to, the answer was no. I was squired in the Free Marches," Nathaniel admitted as his aggression dropped because he didn't find the Commander to be honestly all that intimidating once their tempers had cooled. "Look, I don't know what happed with the Couslands. It sounds like it was horrible. The entire war was. Whatever my father did, however, shouldn't harm my whole family. The Howes are pariahs now, those of us left."

"Whatever he did?" Izarre huffed.

"Well, you killed him, so now you also get to decide my fate. Ironic, isn't it?" Shaking his head, the Commander thought to himself for a long enough time to at least make the Prisoner uncomfortable.

"…I understand we had some trouble capturing you."

"Oh. Well, yes," Nathanial admitted. "I am not without skills. My time aboard wasn't spent chasing skirts and drinking wine."

"What skills are those, exactly?"

"…Hunting. Scouting. Poisons. Why? What do you care?" The grin that came across the Commander's face only made his nerves even worse as the guard returned with Varel.

"I brought the Seneschal for you, Commander."

"And I see you've spoken with our…guest. Quite a handful, isn't he?" Varel commented. "Have you decided what's to be done with him?"

"This is Nathaniel Howe, Arl Howe's son. He came here to kill me, but then gave it up just to steal back some of his family's heirlooms…"

"A Howe? It figures that they would turn up again. They are implacable enemies, Commander."

"Indeed," Izarre agreed with a smirk. "Which is why I am invoking the Right of Conscription."

"You what?" Nathaniel yelled.

"I'm sorry, Commander…the Right of Conscription? On the prisoner?"

"No! Absolutely not! Hang me, first!"

"I don't remember asking you," Izarre taunted ruthlessly.

"…I can't decide if this is a vote of confidence or punishment."

"Both," the Commander smiled. "Let us being the Joining!" Everyone returned to the main hall where the Joining cup was once again prepared as the last male Howe stood against his will as he waited for his turn.

"The moment of truth," he gulped and took a drink of the darkspawn blood. In a matter of seconds, he hit the floor in shakes and quivers, but had survived the process.

"Take him to a room and get him rested and outfitted. Everyone, return to your quarters," Izarre ordered. "At daybreak, we make for the city of Amaranthine."