120: The Ad Hoc Rescue Planning Committee
Eamon looked about ready to pop a vein when they returned without the captain or the elf. Garott got it... they'd managed to lose the two people who were most useful to this entire operation. The feeling was mutual, because when Anora slipped in an hour later and Eamon accepted her deception as necessary, Garott kinda wanted to throw a flask of acid into both their faces.
Stone-damned politics.
Wynne just sighed over the whole thing, like she wasn't really surprised (probably wasn't) and couldn't believe all the trouble the kids were getting into.
So, after he left the new Cousland with the old man and the queen so they could start talking politics,Garott grabbed all their people and retreated to the library.
"So. Fort Drakon. What the sod is Fort Drakon?"
Wynne settled into a chair. "It is the royal prison here in Denerim. If Percival and Finian have been arrested and sentenced," which, they would be, "that is where they will be housed."
"Big fortress? Hard to break into?"
"Essentially, yes."
"Good. I love a challenge." He paced the room. They were all watching him... Wynne, and Sten, and Zevran, and Oghren, and Morrigan, and the sodding dog... because he was the Warden here now.
He was pretty sure he hated being the only Warden, all the attention and responsibility. Couldn't have imagined how he'd have stayed sane without the rest of the crazy blighters. Probably have done some stupid things just to get it over with.
"So. Suggestions?"
Zevran was, of course, the first to speak. "You, I, and Morrigan sneak in and kill everyone we see," he said coldly, "until such a time as they produce the proffered parties. Then we keep killing."
Morrigan hummed approval.
"Well, yeah. Of course that one's on the table. Any less likely to get us all arrested and our friendly witch shipped off to the nearest Circle?"
Sten said, "A full frontal assault. We gather what allies we have made and use them to lay siege to the prison."
"No sieges," Zevran snapped. "Sieges take too long. You have to wait for your forces to gather, and then they have to start running out of supplies. It could be weeks."
Oghren took a swig from his waterskin. "Why don't we just dress up as circus performers or somethin'? Walk right in the front gate?" Zevran nodded his approval.
"And in what alternate reality would that actually work?" Morrigan asked incredulously.
"Hey, you're the mistress of disguise here."
Garott wanted to bang his head against a table, just a little bit. "Okay... this ain't workin'. We're all workin' blind, here." He juggled his axe for a moment, thinking.
"Then send a scout," Sten said simply.
"Recon, right." Garott looked around at the resources they had. Most of them stuck out like a sore thumb... but Zevran had underworld contacts and experience, and Morrigan would be able to get into places no one else could... and Sten was scary. That helped, too, for some things. "We need a map, if we can get one. Fort Drakon and grounds. We need rosters, and reports. We need to know where our boys are being kept. And something to cover our asses when we get caught."
They were all looking at him again, waiting for orders, and that was ridiculous, but no one else was around to give them. Fine, whatever. That meant they did this his way.
"We're gonna do this right, people. That's the only way to get our boys back."