(Kaassie: ...huh. O_o Honestly, I see where you're coming from, but I don't see the problems where you do. Things like them being allowed in are explained by the Grey Warden thing, and Marnan's 'men' offer her respect because they've been through things together that no official exile can erase completely (she was respected as a warrior even before her appointment as commander) The idea is that these people would have known her well enough to know that her crimes wouldn't be all they seem, and I thought I'd conveyed that. Maybe my Orzammar headcanon isn't quite as well-expressed as I'd hoped. Hm...)

80. Skewing the Odds

The Deep Roads had a habit of clinging to you like bad mud, even when you were back in civilization. Garott's main thought as they walked through Orzammar after a days-long patrol through the lost thaigs was that he would kill a lesser noble to be given a decent bath.

"Two years, Branka's been in those tunnels." Oghren shook his head and snorted a laugh. "If she weren't already a bit off in the head, I'd be worried."

Garott grinned. "Hard to believe she wanted to go into the Roads. How she convinced her entire House to follow her, I'll never know."

"Ah, Smiths are bonkers. Mention the Anvil of the Void, and they start getting all moony-eyed." Oghren wriggled his eyebrows. "It's a handy thing to bring up from time to time, if ya know what I mean."

Garott laughed. "Knowing and wanting to know are completely different things, old man."

They climbed a staircase up into the Commons, and Garott jumped as a lightning bolt zapped into him from across the square. Sten and Oghren immediately whipped out their weapons behind him, and Garott was ready to face more of Harrowmont's rabid fans… but the delicate, tattooed, elven face smirking back at him tore all the fight out of him.

Garott threw his head back and laughed. "Why you scrawny little sparkly bastard!" He crossed the square in quick strides and slapped Kazar on the back. "That ain't how you're supposed to greet your comrades." Garott paused, stepping back to really study the elf. "Paragon's balls, you look like a forest got sick all over you."

Kazar spread his arms and turned, giving Garott a show of his strange new woodsy elf robes, complete with a twisted tree branch for a staff. "I got them from the Dalish for helping kill the Keeper. How much sense does that make?"

"About as much as anything in this backwards Blight."

Oghren seemed to have decided that Kazar was no threat. He came up beside Garott and gave Kazar a long, considering look. Then, he nodded to himself. "Yep. This kid looks like a delicate little twig."

Kazar yelped indignantly, and Garott guffawed.

"For your information, I am the most talented mage of my generation."

"Yeah, yeah, and I can fart the Orzammar anthem. Don't hear me bragging about it." Oghren took a good swig of his flask and added to Garott. "Heh, that's actually true. Clears a room like you wouldn't believe."

"Garott, what is this fuzzy red thing?" Kazar asked, obviously disgusted. "It keeps trying to speak like a normal person."

"This," Garott said, "is the guy who's gonna lead us to the Paragon that can get us our Stone-damned army."

Oghren raised his flask in toast. "And don't you forget it, twiggy."

Garott glanced around, and spotted Felicity nearby, speaking with a chatty young lady and the lyrium seller. "So the wet blanket's here too, eh?"

Kazar nodded. "Apparently, the dwarf girl wants to go to the Circle Tower, despite demons practically tearing the thing down. Dwarves are crazy."

"Yep. Who else came?"

Kazar started counting on his fingers. "Morrigan. Marnan. Percy… and the dog, I guess."

Garott raised an eyebrow, because that was about half the numbers they'd had. "And everyone else…?"

"Going on some dumb quest for an old Chantry relic."

The contempt in his voice made Garott chuckle. "Not a believer, I take it?"

"Does it matter? The Templar was leading the charge, and I wasn't going to follow him if the end of the world depended on it."

"Ah."

"Garott!" Felicity had finally noticed him, apparently. She excused herself and scurried over to join their conversation. "Is it true you sided with Bhelen?"

"Oh, here we go…"

"Marnan is completely torn up about it. How could you side with the man who killed their brother and had her exiled?"

"To be fair, Amell, the princess went to lengths to make sure no one knew that part of the story."

"But you know it now! How could you side with Bhelen?!"

Garott sighed and started heading for the Diamond Quarter. "I don't gotta answer to you."

"But you will have to answer to Marnan. She will demand it."

"And that's her right."

This shocked the nosy woman into stopping, and Garott left her and Kazar to their devices to climb the stairs.

"That was well done," Sten opined. "Though I do not approve of the saarebas attacking us as a greeting."

"Ease up, Sten. The kid was just having fun."

"Magic should not be used so casually. It is a dangerous thing."

Garott cast a glance back at the Qunari, whose jaw was locked tight. "We need the firepower. So let it go, all right?"

Sten huffed discontentedly, but did as he was told.

"So…" Oghren's gruff voice said after a moment of climbing in silence, "that girl got anyone?"

"Trust me, old man, that's a pile of crazy even you couldn't handle."

"Heh heh… I like a challenge."

Garott now needed a bath to get that image out of his mind. They emerged into the Diamond Quarter, Garott hoping with every step that he could get to the royal palace without event. No such luck.

About halfway through the district, a red ball of fury launched herself into his path and smacked him across the face without so much as a how-do-you-do.

"Oh-hoho!" Oghren catcalled. "You dog, you…" He trailed off as Marnan turned her glare to him. "Erm… hiya Lady Marnan."

"Oghren," she acknowledged, then went back to tearing into Garott. "How dare you. You besmirch the name of the Grey Wardens by aligning yourself with that treacherous snake! You're every bit the monster he is!"

Garott rubbed at the fresh ache in his jaw. A crowd was beginning to form, as it often did to any good spectacle. Percival and his mutt were watching on Harrowmont's doorstep. "You done?"

"No, I am not done! I will never be done! I thought you better than this, but I come to Orzammar only to find that you are every bit the selfish, casteless thug that you were when Duncan found you! Have you learned nothing about-"

It was the 'c' word that did it. "He's marrying my sister."

Good, that shut her up. Apparently, that little tidbit of news hadn't penetrated her reactionary indignance.

"Yeah, the duster he's got with child? She's my sister Rica, and I'll be damned if I'm turning my back on the guy who promises to give her—and all dusters—a better life." He shoved past her, continuing onto the palace. Over his shoulder, he called, "He may be a scheming son-of-a-bitch, but I'll be damned if he doesn't get results. That's what Orzammar needs, princess… results."

He nodded a greeting to Percival as he passed, and the human nodded back, thin-lipped. No outburst from him, then. Huh. That was a nice surprise.

Garott entered the palace and headed straight back to the prince's room. As usual, Garott was the only one allowed back, which Sten and Oghren were used to by now. Sten waited in the foyer like the walking statue he often was, and Oghren found a pretty servant girl to fail to hit on.

Garott knocked as a matter of courtesy before letting himself into the prince's chambers.

Rica immediately jumped off the desk she'd been sitting on and ran up to meet him. "Garott, your face! What happened?"

"Bad breeding, mostly."

She slapped his arm. "That's not funny. It looks like you got in a fight!"

"Don't worry about it, Rica. Fighting's my job. Keeps things exciting and all that."

She sighed, but let it go. Bhelen took this moment to speak from behind his desk. "Rica, could you leave us? We need to discuss business."

She sighed again. "Of course, my lord." She didn't leave without tweaking his ear once, though. "We're going to talk later, whether you want to or not."

Garott and Bhelen both kept their fond smiles until she'd closed the heavy doors behind her. Then, it was all business.

"So I take it from the spreading bruise on your cheek that you encountered my dear sister?"

Garott settled to lean against the opposite side of the desk. "All those years of swinging an axe sure gave her a damn good right hook."

"It's the only way she knows to react to politics. Sometimes I think I did both her and Orzammar a favor by disqualifying her from Father's throne."

"By killing your brother and framing her for it, yeah."

Bhelen looked at him for a moment, his face unreadable. Then, he chuckled. Once. "Sometimes, I forget how bold you are."

"We both know the score; no point hiding it. You talk to her yourself yet?"

"Do I look like I've been pummeled within an inch of my life?" Bhelen leaned back in his seat. "No, I'm not dignifying her presence with a response while she continues to side with Harrowmont."

"I take it the other Wardens didn't jump on your side of the line as quick as I did, boss?"

"It doesn't matter. We've got Oghren, and he's the one we need to find Branka. They don't have a chance without him."

Garott took a moment to figure out how to word his next sentence without incurring the prince's wrath, and Bhelen sensed the hesitation.

"Is there a problem, Warden?"

"I'm just surprised you hadn't guessed why the other Wardens were here."

"I'd assumed they were investigating why you were taking so long to acquire aid for the Blight."

"Not quite. See, I summoned them."

Bhelen didn't respond right away, his expression carefully schooled into calm. Once he'd mastered himself, he leaned forward and said in a low voice, "You summoned my sister here during the most politically charged election of my life?"

"Yep, that about sums it up."

Bhelen stared at him hard, trying to read something in his features. "You're not stupid, Brosca, I know you're not. So what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that you were sending me into the Deep Roads with no help but some washed-up drunk and whoever I could scrounge up myself. I may be a Grey Warden, boss, but that don't mean I'm suicidal."

"So you intend to bring Marnan to meet Branka with you?" The prince was barely suppressing his rage, if how hard his hands gripped one another was any indication. "Need I explain why this is a disaster? If Branka has the ability to choose between the opinion of an ascended casteless and the warrior princess, who do you think she's going to pick?"

"Easy. I got Oghren, smarts, and a mean streak. I'll make sure she picks the right side."

"You'd damn well better, Brosca." Mollified, the prince sat back in his chair. "You are dismissed."

Garott sketched a sarcastic bow and left, not nearly as certain that they would win this as he'd pretended. But, hey, the prince didn't need to know that.