Frannie had thought there would be more questions when Faeron left.

She had wracked her brain over the hypothetical interrogation. She came up with reasons as to why he would have joined the Legion of the Dead that didn't involve him being convicted of murdering his brother, the heir apparent to the throne. Maybe she could point to dwarven custom and honor, and pray her friends were too ignorant of their culture to spot her falsehoods.

As it turned out, no one seemed to care all that much. Alistair was distracted and kept peeking into his travel pack and then looking at her with a troubled expression. Maybe he did want to ask about Faeron and simply didn't know how. Shale kept muttering beneath her breath something about, "House Cadash." Silfee Cousland occupied all of Leliana's time with frantic, nervous chatter that had Wynne watching the two closely.

And when they left the gates of Orzammar for the Frostback Mountains, it was clear that a new dynamic had emerged between Donal and Morrigan. He noted that Faeron was missing, but accepted it a little too readily for Frannie's liking. The lack of conversation from Donal Amell sent the hairs on the back of her neck standing out suspiciously. Even Nema's scoffing noises were welcome with how bizarre everyone was behaving.

It made for an awkward trek to Redcliffe. All the private conversations between Donal and Morrigan before they would vanish to read, and the very obvious regret that Shale harbored over not stopping at Cadash Thaig. Perhaps, Frannie too, was quieter than normal. When her mind wasn't on Leske or her sister, it would linger on Faeron, the tragedy of House Aeducan, her Paragon of lost causes.

When the mountainous terrain gave way to forests, Silfee began to perk up. Stone, Frannie had never thought she'd see the day when she was relieved to hear the idle gossip that spewed from the spoiled noble's mouth.

Oghren had quickly made himself at home with the group. After his initial dizzy spell when he was first exposed to the sky, he'd pulled out a skin filled with ale and he and Zevran began to vie for Wynne's attention. Wynne handled all their random declarations of 'bosoms" and "booze" with the patience of a mother chiding her children.

"You look better," Alistair said suddenly. Frannie had been so lost in her own thoughts that she hardly noticed him make his way toward her. "You had me worried there for a little while."

Fran shrugged. "It was nothing." She had cradled Leske in her arms. All the love, all the wishes in the world could not put Paragon Hirol back together again.

"It's never easy." Alistair raked a hand through his hair and stared down the beaten dirt path. "When Duncan died, I found myself praying that you'd wake up so that I wouldn't be alone. So that I had someone to grieve with. And now you've lost someone important to you and I've bungled it horribly."

"You didn't..." He had stood there, frozen in abject horror while she wept. He didn't say a damn thing when Nema thought it practical to lock her up like a criminal. For all the things he did do, it was his inaction that hurt the most. Frannie nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, You kind of did, didn't you?"

"Yeah." He exhaled and it turned into a sort of nervous laughter. "Talk to me about cheese and I'll never shut up, but when it's something important I'm an idiot. Seriously, Frannie, I am so, so sorry."

"Alistair, it's fine." Was it, though? Would it ever be fine, again? How many more people would they lose before it was over? Frannie didn't like that weightless feeling in her guts. Maybe she truly would just fall upward into the sky like all the dusters used to claim.

"It's just, well..." He opened his travel pack, dug through it and thrust something into her chest. "Here. I mean, I wanted to give you this. Do you know what this is?"

It made a rustling noise as he pressed it against her leather armor and when she grasped it in her hands, one of the dried leaves from the rose crumpled and fell loose onto the trail. "Is this a trick question?" Frannie asked.

"Yes! Absolutely!" Alistair slung his pack back over his shoulder, a little too quickly to be natural. "I'm trying to trick you, is it working? Aw, I just about had you, didn't I?"

"Is this what you've been thumbing in your pack?" she asked. Time had made the petals brittle and deepened their color from a red to burgundy. "I thought that..." he'd been upset with how easily she let Faeron leave. She shouldn't have been so relieved with how her guilt had been absolved.

"Well that and what's left of a wedge of dragon's breath blue that I didn't want to share with anyone," he replied. "But I think Edgar's mabari was on to me about that. It's a rose. I found it at Ostagar. All by itself in the middle of a battlefield. How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much darkness and ugliness?"

Fran smiled up at him. "Bhelen found the next queen in Dust Town." She wasn't entirely sure if Alistair got her sentiment.

"I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't," he said. "It would have gotten trampled in the battle and the darkspawn and their taint would just destroy it. I've had it ever since."

"And now you're giving it to me?" she asked.

"Well, yeah." His brows furrowed. Maybe it was she who wasn't getting his sentiment. "I thought you might like it. In a lot of ways, I think the same way when I look at you. You've just been having such a horrible time since joining the Wardens and that's not what we're really about. I can't change what's already happened, but maybe together we can work to fix it?"

Her best friend died and she received a rose. She supposed it was more than what her mother would have given her. Or the carta. Anyone in Dust Town, really. It's aroma was more intense since it had been dried. "Thanks, Alistair. It means a lot."

"Good." He nodded, jerky and quick. "I'm glad."

"I've never seen trees with brown leaves, before," she noted. The green had faded to a sickly yellow and now all the trees in their immediate path had shriveled brown leaves that wilted out of their branches.

Alistair looked troubled. "No, they shouldn't be this early in the season," he murmured. "I don't sense any darkspawn, do you?"

"No." Frannie's fingers danced along the dried petal of the rose.

Alistair's shoulders were tense and Morrigan looked more sour than usual. Little flies hovered over the base of the trees and it smelled like something was rotting. Sweet, like fruit and overpowering.

"Not another step, travelers," a voice announced. Male, but higher than most dwarves. There was a familiar tinny to it, but Frannie couldn't place it precisely. "You should turn back. This land is tainted and we've had our arrows trained on you for a while."

"Tainted?" Alistair asked. "We're trying to reach Redcliffe."

"Edgar?" Silfee propped her hands on her hips and scowled. "Edgar Oren Cousland, if that is you, I swear to the Maker I will be very cross!"

"Silfee?" Edgar's voice trailed from high up one of the trees. He began to laugh. "Silfee, it's you? Get over here!"

Dead leaves rustled as Edgar slid down the tree. He rushed the group, threw his arms around his sister and lifted her off the ground as she kicked and screamed. "You'll never believe what's happening here!" he exclaimed.

"Get off me!" The pitch that Silfee's voice rose to, along with Edgar's laughter, reminded Frannie more of children and less like refined nobles. Silfee stomped on her brother's foot until he dropped his arms. "I'm angry with you!"

As the Couslands created a commotion, more bodies climbed down trees and stepped out from behind gnarled trunks. Rastaban was petulant as usual and Adele shadowed him. Chester wagged his stump of a tail and his tongue lolled. Sten stood off, away from the main group, while some humans that Frannie didn't recognize joined them.

"You're really upset?" Edgar asked. His melodramatic pout melted into genuine concern. "Something happened in Orzammar, Silfee?"

"Silfee Cousland." The human gentleman cleared his throat and smiled at her. "You are looking as beautiful as ever."

Her cheeks flushed pink and she began to brush invisible dust from her armor. "Bann Teagan, your timing is as impeccable as always. I hope one day you will not find me so disheveled and out of sorts."

"Bann Teagan." Alistair flung a hand up to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You know him?" Frannie asked.

"Yes." He dragged his hands across his cheeks before they found his scalp. "Look, Bann Teagan's brother, Arl Eamon raised me, because my father is, was... well, I know I should've told you this already, but we keep getting into situations where trying not to die becomes more pressing than my lineage."

"Alistair..."

"I'm getting there, I promise," he said. "People just always treat me differently after they know and I like the way you treat me now and I don't want you looking at me all funny."

"I'm looking at you funny now, Alistair," Frannie said slowly. "Because you're behaving very oddly."

His head tilted back as he groaned. "King Maric was my father. There. I said it. Want to use me as a political pawn now or marry me for a kingdom? It won't work. I'm a bastard with no claim to the throne."

Frannie was obviously missing something. Human politics apparently differed from dwarves where child rearing was concerned. "Your father didn't raise you?"

"My mother was a serving girl and not the queen," he explained. "I was always told she died in childbirth. My father didn't want a smudge on his wife's memory or Cailan's claim to the throne threatened."

"I'm not sure I understand," Frannie said. "Are you a prince or not?"

"Oh Maker, no." Alistair grimaced. "Arl Eamon has a more legitimate claim to the throne than I do, anyway, I don't want it."

She nodded. "So it's just something I can tease you about, then."

"Yes! Exactly!" He paused. "No! Wait, I mean, fine. All in good fun, right? Have a laugh."

With that, Alistair headed to Bann Teagan and gripped the other man's hand. "Bann Teagan, it's been a while. You probably remember me younger. And covered in mud."

There was a moment, as the bann stared Alistair down. He broke into a warm smile. "Alistair? This is wonderful news! Truly this has been an occasion for reunions."

Nema bypassed everyone and made her way directly to Bann Teagan. "What is happening here?" she demanded.

"Unnatural things, I fear," Bann Teagan replied.

Edgar laughed. "Well, look on the bright side," he said. "At least it wasn't darkspawn!"

A muscle along Rastaban's jaw twitched as he clenched his mouth shut tighter. Adele reached a hand for him, but thought better of it and then walked her fingers along Chester's back. The mabari rewarded her with a wet muzzle against her palm.

"It would be better, I think," Teagan said, "if I show you all."

The onslaught had been quick, fierce and confusing. A swarm of... things, swept through the village to wrench woman out of windows, set carts on fire and leave nothing but blood and gristle in their wake. Even Bann Teagan had lost one of his personal guard in the attack.

The creatures looked human. Sort of. The smell of them was enough for Frannie to turn her head away. Heat and fast decomposition.

"There had been an outbreak of plague in the Alienage years ago," Adele murmured. "A lot of people dying faster than they could be buried. The smell reminds me of that. Hahren Valendrian finally opted for a mass crematory pyre to deal just to keep up with the dead."

"Because an enormous bonfire in the center of the Alienage wouldn't attract attention from the humans," Nema snapped.

That made Frannie give the elf a look, but the only answer Nema gave anyone was her frosty glare.

The color had drained from Bann Teagan's face as he surveyed the carnage. Tanners racks had been tipped over, the skins stretched across them had been stabbed full of holes. Straw from the thatched roofs was scattered over the cobblestone walkways along with dark splatters that Fran refused to identify. "I apologize that I have no explanation for these abominations."

"Abominations are mages possessed by demons," Edgar told Teagan. He poked one of the bodies on the ground with his sword. "These don't look like mages."

"These poor people," Wynne said. The old woman went to her knees beside one of the withered corpses and Alistair rushed to her side and hovered over her. She waved away his concern. "These aren't creatures. They were human, once."

"I don't understand," Alistair said. He knelt down next to her and began to examine the corpse. "You mean like how darkspawn were once men? These aren't darkspawn."

"How long has the arl had a mage in his castle?" Nema asked Bann Teagan.

Teagan frowned. "What? There aren't any mages at the castle."

Donal smirked at Morrigan and she rolled her eyes. He walked over and shrugged. "Using magic to reanimate corpses tends to be frowned upon by the Chantry," he said. "It's up there with blood magic."

"I beg your pardon?" Teagan said.

"Donal Amell," Donal replied. "Typical, scholarly, shut-in mage at your service. What I believe Wynne is saying is that what attacked the village was Redcliffe's own dead, possessed by some bastard of a mage for reasons of his or her own."

"I would not have worded it quite like that, Donal," Wynne said. "But, yes. It does appear to be the work of some evil magic."

"Oh, Maker," the bann placed a hand on his chest. "So then it's worse than I feared." He glanced over his shoulder and toward the castle walls that loomed in the distance. "No one has heard from the castle in days. No guards patrol the walls, and no one has responded to my shouts.

'The attacks started a few nights ago. These... things... surged from the castle. We drove them back, but many perished during the assault."

Edgar nodded his head feverishly. "We set up a perimeter and have been forcing the creatures back and warning unsuspecting travelers!"

"Thank you, Edgar," Teagan said. "Each night they come with greater numbers. With Cailan dead and Loghain starting a war over the throne, no one responds to my urgent calls for help."

Nema's brow dipped lower and angrier. "So we are on our own, then."

Oghren barked out a laugh. "I like these odds."

"Lovely." Donal sighed.

"I have a feeling tonight's assault will be the worst, yet," Teagan continued. He was an attractive man, Frannie supposed, but the worry lines etched across his forehead had aged him. "I hate to ask, but I desperately need the help of you and your friends."

"Can we?" Edgar asked. His eyes held a fervid excitement. "I think we should."

Alistair rested a hand on his brow to block the glare of the setting sun as he stared at the castle. It stood silent and unmoving. "The Grey Wardens don't stand much of a chance against Loghain without Arl Eamon."

"So we're helping him?" Edgar asked. He broke into a broad smile.

Nema held up a hand to silence him. "How much aid could this arl truly provide? Shouldn't he have knights defending his castle and village?"

"You would turn your back on these people because they're not as powerful as you'd like?" Alistair's nostrils flared.

"I'm trying to weigh the worth of the action," she said. "We possess fewer Wardens than they do villagers. If I'm to risk losing one of you, the gain must be worth it."

"So you do miss Faeron," Frannie realized.

Nema only glared.

Bann Teagan nodded to her. "The arlessa sent the knights of Redcliffe out on a quest to seek aid for my brother's condition. They are scattered across Ferelden and left Redcliffe unguarded."

"Wouldn't it be nice," Donal said airily, "if just once, we show up to a place with no turmoil and when we show them the ancient treaties, they honor their obligation without making us work for it?"

"My sword has been returned to me." Sten walked forward slowly and flexed. Unsheathed, the great sword was an extension of his arms. "Asala. We lacked the coin to bribe the collector. This Bann Teagan bought it back for me. I will fight for him."

Edgar whooped and pounded on Bann Teagan's back. "That makes two of us. Come on, Silfee!"

"I will," she sniffed. Silfee turned her upturned nose even further into the air. "But I'm doing it for the bann, not for you, Edgar."

Rastaban and Adele quietly joined the ranks behind Bann Teagan. Oghren sighed and followed them as he tested the weight of his axe.

"The Maker would not want us to turn our back on this injustice," Leliana said as she moved.

"No," Wynne agreed. "It is the right thing to do."

"I would like to help, if everyone else agrees," Alistair said.

Donal touched Morrigan's wrist and she jerked her arm from him. "I think it's decided," he said as he pointed to the sun that dipped behind the cliffs. "Even if we refuse, we'll have to camp here for the night. And these things attack at night."

"If we help you with this," Nema looked the bann over, "will we have the full strength of Redcliffe behind us when facing Loghain."

"I can guarantee you Rainesfere," he said. "And I promise to do everything in my power to convince my brother. I do not think it will be very difficult, all things considered."

Nema nodded. "That is acceptable."