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The two Grey Wardens and their allies stayed at Soldier's Peak for a week. In that time their guide Levi had summoned the rest of his family (who had all been shacked up in the nearest inn) and moved onto the peak, agreeing to maintain the fortress until the Wardens could take up permanent residence. The new, safe home more than made up for Levi's disappointment at the murky truths of the Dryden's family history. Seeing the possessed corpse of his ancestor Sophia had also not stopped him from giving her remains to the fire with all the proper rites.

Odin himself thought this arrangement was excellent; though that might have had something to do with the newly forged sword he had got out of it thanks Levi's weapon smith brother. He had found the metal, which apparently had fallen from the sky (Odin still wasn't entirely sure how that worked) weeks ago and had almost forgotten about it. Mikael Dryden said he had been taught his craft by Dwarven smiths and it certainly showed. Odin spent so much time admiring the fantastic new blade that Morrigan seemed to be getting jealous and insisted that it wasn't allowed to share the bed with them.

Women, they just don't understand some things. Still Odin had reluctantly agreed.

Everyone in the group enjoyed the week's rest, as well as sleeping indoors on actual beds. But for the two Grey Wardens this holiday was marred by Avernus' information. It was days before Odin and Alistair decided to discuss it.

"I always knew that none of the Wardens who slew the previous Archdaemons had survived" Alistair said. "But the fact they have to…"

"I know" sighed Odin heavily "I know".

Avernus had been blunt and crystal clear on that point. Anyone could slay the Archdaemon's body, as easily as any other fully grown high Dragon anyway, but without a Warden its' soul, spirit, essence or whatever it was called would simply jump to the nearest Darkspawn and transform into a new Dragon. Only a Warden slaying the beast and absorbing the soul themselves would ensure an Archdaemon's permanent death, at the cost of the Warden's life.

Though he would never admit it Odin was angry. For the first time in his entire life he had a future, a chance at achieving something with his life beyond begging on the streets or being hired muscle for the Carta. He was aware of course that being a Warden could kill him but now that uncertainty, the chance of survival, had been removed. It was inevitable; sooner or later he would face the Archdaemon and when he did…could he do it? It had to be done, there was no choice, but he wanted to live.

"Neither of us can hold back whatever happens" Odin eventually concluded, Alistair merely nodded. Both stared at the fire for a long time.

"And we still can't create more Wardens" Alistair said some time later.

Avernus had indeed taught both of them, despite their complete lack of potion making skills, (and he point blank refused to teach any non Wardens) the recipe needed to make more Wardens but they lacked the vital ingredient; Archdaemon's blood. Only a drop was needed for the Joining but the Soldier's Peak supply was utterly destroyed in the Siege. The supply the Ferelden Grey Wardens had recently would've been smashed as well, or at best confiscated by Loghain, hidden away under lock and key.

"Given the situation I'm doubly glad I sent that letter" said Odin.

"What letter?" asked Alistair, looking confused.

"Back in Denerim while you were having a night of passion with Isabella" Odin was still amused by Alistair's blushing every time the topic cropped up. "The rest of us were waiting around and I had time to think. Once you were… finished and Isabella made the preparations for our escape I asked her a few questions."

"Go on"

"Well her plan was to leave the city as soon as possible and I asked where she might go. She got her map and showed me her route. The trip involved stopping off in a number of ports in the Free Marches, at which point I asked if she knew of any Grey Warden bases in the region. Apparently the order has a keep at a place called Ansburg and, after a bit of haggling over payment she agreed to deliver a message."

Alistair was looking far more relived now "What did you say?"

"I told them what happened at Ostagar, our basic plan and asked if they could come and help. Well in fancier terms than that, Wynne did the actual writing with Leliana and Zevran editing. I suggested that given the 'delicate political situation' that they should land on some deserted bit of coast and make their way across country to Redcliffe."

"That's brilliant!" exclaimed Alistair "We can get help from the rest of the Order!"

"Assuming they do decide to help" added Odin.

Alistair frowned at that "They are Wardens, its' their duty to aid us."

"They haven't so far" Odin pointed out "and that can't just be because Loghain closed the borders. They could have easily smuggled people over the Frostback Mountains or across the sea."

The look on Alistair's face meant that this conversation was about to turn into a major argument so Odin changed tact.

"Whatever their plan is the letter has been sent. We can't do anymore without leaving the country. We had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Even if the letter is intercepted by Loghain he can't accuse us of conspiring with the 'evil' Orlesians since it was sent to a completely different nation. Come to think of it the Free Marches isn't even a nation, just squabbling city states, so no one in their right mind could claim it's an invasion."

Argument averted thankfully thought Odin as Alistair considered his reasoning.

"Loghain isn't in his right mind" Alistair decided, thoughts of revenge clearly on his mind.

"If he starts claiming the Free Marches are going to attack then everyone will realise it."

The two Wardens briefly enjoyed the thought of discrediting Loghain before Alistair managed to ruin the moment.

As only he could.

"It's a good plan, but why did you get Wynne to do the writing?"

Judging by the look on Odin's face Alistair had missed something important.

"Because" said Odin looking exasperated and slightly annoyed "I can't write, or read."

"What?" exclaimed an incredulous Alistair "But you can use maps, I assumed…"

"Duncan taught me how to use maps while we were travelling to Ostagar, he showed where everything was and I remembered." Odin looked increasingly mulish "I may not have had an education but I've got a damn good memory, I watch and listen. Remarkable what you can find out when no one notices you, or thinks you wouldn't understand what there're talking about."

He continued "Anyway it is not so different on the surface; most of the ordinary people are never taught their letters. In fact from what I recall you only learnt when you joined the Templars."

"That's true" replied Alistair "You just seemed as though…"

"Well I'll take that as a compliment" said Odin forcing a smile "Still I'm trying to learn; Morrigan is not the most patient teacher but Wynne helps out as well."

"I didn't know that."

"Of course not, I was trying to keep it quiet. But every bit of spare time I get is taken up with learning. Back in Orzammar no one in Dust town knew any letters, why would they? It's treated almost like magic is on the surface."

"Wow" was Alistair's only response "Do you ever sleep?"

Odin was straight-faced "Very rarely, too much to do, too many ideas and the Darkspawn nightmares don't help. I'm lucky if I get a couple of hours."

Then he smiled "Of course if I'm in Morrigan's tent I normally end up pretty exhausted and sleep more, particularly if she"

"That's Ok" interrupted Alistair "I better go now." Sure enough he disappeared remarkably quickly.

Too easy thought Odin as he looked up at a broken window and noticed a familiar looking Raven. The bird promptly landed on the floor and transformed into his favourite mage.

"I'm pleased our dalliance gives you such opportunities to torment that innocent fool" Said Morrigan with her customary smirk.

"He's not that foolish, nor is he innocent anymore but his blushing embarrassment always cheers me up. Anyhow what brings you up here?"

"I wish to know when we are leaving this cold and desolate fortress."

"We'll go tomorrow; we've got our new weapons and armour as well as plenty of recovery time for everyone."

Morrigan raised an eyebrow "Except our mad war chest of course."

"What's he done this time?"

"Only the usual endless rampaging through the cellars hunting vermin, spreading terror and destruction wherever it goes. Your housekeepers will need an army of cats to replace him."

"Between the Chest and Shale stoning the birds there won't be any wildlife left on the Peak if we stay any longer."

"Indeed" agreed the shapely witch "But where shall go from here?"

"West" said Odin, dreading and hoping what, and who, he would see "Back to Orzammar."

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Avernus watched the party leave the next morning from the window of his study. He was grateful for the rescue and even more that his fellow Wardens had spared his life, albeit with some very irritating strings attached to his research methods. Still he would honour the agreement, as a true Warden should.

He continued to watch and spotted the wooden chest catch up with the rest of the group.

It's remarkable that the creature can move at such speed with so many short little legs and not trip over itself. This was one of many thoughts that had plagued the old mage since he had first seen the Luggage. If only I could have studied it.

Not for lack of trying of course.

After the he got the first, most basic answers from the Wardens they warned him that they had no control whatsoever and that all other attempts at investigation had failed. Avernus was not deterred. Bribery with snacks worked only as long as there were snacks to offer and none of the bait lasted more than a few seconds before it was devoured. Every snare and magical glyph that the Warden Mage set was either dodged or simply failed. Any attempt to approach without bribes only resulted in growling and nearly losing several body parts. By the end he was absolutely convinced that that accursed trunk was enjoying itself at his expense. Finally, tired and frustrated he was forced to admit defeat.

As his fellow Wardens and their associates went out of sight Avernus returned to his experiments. He wished them luck and almost regretted staying behind but he was still vexed that that bloody piece of wood had completely outwitted him.

He went back to work, that always cheered him up, as long as there were many loud explosions, the sign of any good experiment.

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