Victory at Ostagar
Chapter 63: Ill Tidings From Denerim
The Grey Wardens returned to Ostagar rather subdued, their party considerably smaller than it had been two days before. Bronwyn reported to Loghain immediately.
"You look exhausted," Loghain said, rather concerned. Actually, Bronwyn looked worse than that: drawn and sallow and grim. She looked five years older than when he had last seen her two days before.
"Considering that I just poisoned nineteen people and disposed of their bodies," Bronwyn said, her lip curling slightly, "I think I look fairly perky." She added, "Three of my recruits were killed in battle, so I'm not directly responsible for their deaths."
"You knew that many would die."
"Yes, I did. They didn't. At least nobody tried to run, thus forcing me to cut them down. That was fairly ugly at my own Joining. But the sobbing and shaking was distressing. I understand that there are murderers who find such things stimulating. It only made me sick and ashamed."
He pushed a cup of wine her way. "I have had a request from the Dalish to deal with the assassins themselves. Do you still wish to offer them them mercy?"
"I suppose I do," she said, "and for that reason, I will not be offering them the chance to be Wardens. Besides, after all my new people went through, it would be wrong to spit on their sacrifice by introducing people who cannot be trusted. Undergoing the Joining doesn't magically make one good, after all. We have no guarantees that they'd suddenly see the importance of fighting darkspawn. More likely they would take the first opportunity to knife Quinn or Maeve or Sigrun in the back, and then flee to Orlais." She finished her wine in a single long swallow. "What do the Dalish want to do to them?"
"Use them for target practice," he grunted. "I got the impression from Thanovir that their Keepers had had something magical in mind, but decided that it would be too shocking for their human allies. I wouldn't have objected to stranding them in the Fade myself, but the Revered Mother would have squawked. At that, I wonder if the offer would have been made, had the assassins been Dalish, rather than city elves."
"Have they had anything further to say—the assassins, I mean?"
"No. Quite professional, in their way. For that matter, I would have had them questioned more harshly, but I had to consider the Dalish themselves squawking. All this concern for the customs and opinions of others is very tiresome. If it were left to me, I'd keep them in cages and hang them from the battlements until they starved, and then send their heads to Empress Celene."
Bronwyn found that a rather horrible idea, though it was admittedly less horrible than her own first impulse to give the women to the darkspawn. "I suppose we'll have to get used to considering the customs and opinions of others."
"Perhaps." He nodded. "I will pass along your consent to young Merrill. I would like to be rid of those women as soon as possible—preferably today, if they can arrange it. Enough of them. What of your expedition? Did you find many darkspawn?"
"We found enough for our purposes, but only scattered bands in the Wilds. The darkspawn are nearly gone from the surface here, though we'll continue to run patrols. In the tunnels there were more, but they too seemed to be remnants. I'm almost sure that the horde has withdrawn elsewhere; possibly quite far away. We'll obviously have to continue to keep watch at Ostagar, but I'm considering sending out parties to check out some of the known Deep Roads entrances."
"That will divide your forces."
"A good thing I recruited so many, then. I see no way around it. Were I the Archdemon, I would be preparing an assault on somewhere undefended. They could pop up outside West Hill, for all I know, and no one would even know they were on the march until they were at the gates of Highever!"
The execution of the would-be assassins was held at sunset, and was over fairly quickly. Sensitive to the views and customs of his allies, Loghain had allowed the Dalish custody of the prisoners they had captured. The four women were marched out before the army and tied to posts, and the ranks of Dalish archers were drawn up before them. The assassins' leader, unrepentant to the end, spat her defiance on the ground, hoping the Blight took them all. No one who did not wish to be part of the execution was forced to participate, but the ranks were nonetheless quite impressive. Maynriel gave them the order to loose, and the feathered bodies slumped. As the women were Andrasteans—more or less— they were then given to the priests to be cremated.
The Ferelden army admired the marksmanship, but was not perfectly pleased with the disposal of the remains, believing that the women's heads should have been put on display, either here or in Denerim. The dwarves rather agreed with this point of view, feeling that an example was necessary in such circumstances.
Everyone attended the execution, of course, including the Wardens. Bronwyn stood by Loghain in the front, the two of them witnessing the end of the women who had sought to end them. Loghain glanced at the girl, who clearly had seen about all the death she cared for that day. Her face was carefully impassive throughout, and she turned away afterwards, with only brief thanks to Merrill, and a word to Loghain that she must see to her Wardens. Most of the onlookers lingered, watching the corpses carried away, and discussing the iniquities of those who sent them.
"The Dalish were too soft on them, in my opinion. I suppose it comes from living in small bands," Piotin Aeducan said shrewdly to Loghain, after the event. "Elves are used to dealing with each other on a family basis, more or less. If they ever got their homeland and had to live in a proper city, they'd see why you can't be squeamish about treachery. Though I wonder if things aren't changing a bit. This is the largest gathering of elves in some time, I've been told, and there's been a bit of friction. Elves always go on about how it was all peace and love and harmony in the days when they ruled the surface, but I find that hard to credit."
Loghain agreed. The Dalish homeland was going to be a sticking point at the next Landsmeet. Cailan had promised it, and the Dalish must be given something for their service. Bronwyn had told him of some elven ruins she had explored in a remote area in the Brecilian Forest, east of the White River. She held that it would be a more rational place for the Dalish than the chilly south. Poring over the map, Loghain thought such a grant might be feasible. There were no human settlements there, and no regular trade routes, other than occasional hunters or some stray lumbermen. There were those who would decry giving the elves anything at all, of course, and the Chantry would cause trouble, too.
No doubt everything would fall apart for elves eventually, when the missionaries were ejected and the Templars invaded. However, Loghain felt he could not be responsible for what might happen in a hundred years or even fifty. He had to do the best with the situation as it stood now, and the Dalish were performing well, and keeping their agreements in good faith.
Carefully, he drew a circle around the marked site of the ruins. Four hundred square leagues might be no more than a good sized bannorn, but it would infinitely more than the elves had possessed since the fall of the Dales.
The new Wardens were recognized and saluted at dinner. They sat together, and said little to those who were full of questions about the mysterious challenges they had faced, and also about the fates of those who had not returned. The Grey Wardens' reputation for secrecy was upheld, to the frustration of many.
The leaders of the armies met afterwards and discussed Bronwyn's findings.
"So the horde has been beaten back!" cried Bann Carlin. "That's a real victory, but does it mean the end of the Blight?"
Piotin Aeducan harrumphed in disgust. "Perhaps for you surfacers, if that's all you care about!"
Not wanting a quarrel, Bronwyn hastily interposed.
"No," she confessed. "Not at all; not as long as the Archdemon lives. It only means they've mostly gone somewhere else. We will continue to explore the Deep Roads, but one of the reasons I recently recruited so many Wardens is to make us able to scout a number of different Deep Road entrances around the country."
"That's a frightening idea," Merrill said softly. "I don't like to think they might be lurking anywhere, ready to pop out of the ground."
"There are only a few places where they could 'pop out,'" Loghain said, his voice dry. He waved at the map of Ferelden on the wall. "The entrances are marked."
"The known entrances," Thanovir added.
Loghain allowed that. Who knew what digging the darkspawn had undertaken?
"Take some of the Legion of the Dead with you," Kardol advised. "We need action."
Wulffe rubbed his beard. "Will the darkspawn make another major assault this season? Do darkspawn make war in winter, for that matter, unlike humans?"
"Winter means nothing underground," Ronus Dace pointed out. "The darkspawn do not need provisions, like the speaking peoples. They might wander out at anytime, though…" he considered, beetling brows contracted. "…Though perhaps they would not venture out into the cold in force unless led by the Archdemon. It could be that they will remain underground until warm weather comes again. I believe I have read something in the Shaperate to that effect."
Merrill was concerned. "The Dalish always go north for the winter," she said nervously. "It will be hard for us to bear the cold here, and hard for the halla."
Loghain was prepared for that.
"While we would need a portion of your people to remain here with the army and Wardens, perhaps it would be a good idea for some of you to go north and winter there. There is empty land in the Neck at the mouth of the River Dane." It would be handy to have scouts like the Dalish there, if the Orlesians attempted a sortie into Ferelden itself.
"Or in the Brecilian Forest," Bronwyn suggested. She decided she would speak to Merrill later about the elven temple. That would accommodate hundreds, even in its dilapidated state.
Loghain caught her eye, and shrugged. It might not be bad, at that, for some of the Dalish to scout out the area and see if they thought it would do.
Wulffe was surprisingly sympathetic to the elves' concerns. "Winter in the south is nothing to joke about. I'll tell you a lot of my militiamen are anxious to get home to their farms and families. It was a hard harvest without them."
"But once gone," Bann Stronar said grimly, "will we ever get them back?" He was anxious about his own men, but very proud of his nephew at the moment. Emrys was a good lad, and having a Grey Warden in the family at the moment, he felt, gave him a certain prestige.
Loghain mulled it over. "We have the royal army, and I must hold you to keeping a least a core of your militias in the field. However, we may be sending them closer to home in some cases. Quite frankly, it would be nearly ruinous to try to feed the entire army through the winter, especially if it appears that the darkspawn have largely moved on."
Bronwyn suggested, "You could grant furloughs to some of the men, and send them home until the turn of the year. Some of them might run, true, but the freeholders have land, and we know where they live. And others feel lucky to get a soldier's pay."
They wrestled with the matter for some time, and within two hours had outlined a strategy to take them through the winter. Bronwyn returned to the Wardens' quarters, wanting to see if all the new people were settled in.
Screens and bookshelves had been arranged to give the Wardens a little more privacy. One of the original chambers had been cleared of cots and set up as a meeting room. In the newly-assigned room, the Junior Wardens had double bunks, and it was interesting to see how determined the dwarves were to claim the lower ones at all times.
Bronwyn found her own cot by the possessions heaped at the foot, and quickly stripped down to her shirt and smallclothes, longing for rest. Her Wardens walked past, clearly wanting to talk to her, but she put a forearm over her eyes and growled, "Tomorrow."
And tomorrow came, to her great disgust. At least they did not have to cook their own breakfast. The first order of business was dealing with the aftermath of their new Wardens' nightmares. They had been warned, but it was one thing to hear of it, and another to experience it for themselves.
Afterward, Bronwyn called some of her people to a private meeting: Alistair, Tara, Astrid, and then, thinking it best, Danith. She had hit on a plan as she was just falling asleep, and wanted to offer it up for consideration.
"It looks like the darkspawn have largely withdrawn from Ostagar. We can't keep the whole army here over the winter, especially since there's reason to believe that the Archdemon has moved on. Loghain's going to have to release some of the noble's militia for winter furlough. We Wardens need to do some scouting for the horde before the weather turns hopeless."
Astrid looked at her with keen interest. "You think we should send out patrols beyond the far south."
"Exactly. While we must maintain a presence in Ostagar, our increased numbers now give us the chance to hunt the darkspawn elsewhere. When we were in Orzammar we copied some maps of the Deep Roads, and identified all the known entrances. I think we must search them out and descend into them to estimate the darkspawn strength remaining in Ferelden. Each of you will lead a contingent. You will also have detachments of the Legion of the Dead under your command, volunteered by Kardol."
Danith, very reluctantly, said, "I do not have great experience in the Deep Roads."
Bronwyn nodded. "And for that reason, your party will be largely on the surface. Nonetheless, it will be a challenging mission." She unrolled her maps of Ferelden and the Deep Roads, and the rest crowded around to see them and compare the two. "I want you to lead your party to the east, scouting for darkspawn. Move across the Wilds and through the southern end of the Brecilian Forest, in the direction of Gwaren. There is an entrance to the Deep Roads just outside the city. Descend into it and explore it for some miles—just enough to get an idea of how infested it is. I obviously do not expect you to travel all the way back to Ostagar along the connecting Gwaren Road, but have a look and determine how recently the darkspawn have been near Gwaren. You will be provided with travel documents and permission from the Teyrn to be quartered in his own Keep. Once you are done there, you will have to determine what the weather permits you to do. If it is still fair enough, I would like you to go north though the Brecilian Forest along the White River. You may come across your clan, Danith, and if so, see what news they have of darkspawn incursions."
Danith nodded, so far quite pleased with her assigned mission.
Bronwyn continued, "You may be snowed in. Whether in Gwaren or South Reach, you will have maps of places you can stay."
"Or we can stay with my clan," Danith pointed out.
"Yes, there is that option. I'm sure the humans and dwarves under your command can learn much from the experience."
Danith grimaced at that, but nodded. It was only to be expected.
"If you can," Bronwyn said, "I want you to proceed north to Denerim, to the Warden Compound. I may be there by then. At any rate, you can resupply and equip your people, and Mistress Ranelly will be happy to spoil you."
"You're not staying Ostagar?" Alistair asked.
"Not for much longer. You'll be in command here," Bronwyn said. "and I'm thinking you should have either Brosca or Oghren as your Second. Think about it. I haven't settled on the individual assignments quite yet. You'll have a mage, of course. Perhaps Petra or Niall. I want Velanna, with her tracking experience, to be in one of the scouting parties."
"Not mine, I take it," Danith said sourly.
"Probably not," Bronwyn said, thinking it best to be frank. "We need to spread out Dalish expertise. I'm thinking Astrid will have Velanna in her party. Astrid and Tara will lead parties in parallel, one on the surface, and one through the Deep Roads. They'll go together to the entrance south of Lake Belennas, and then divide. They will meet at the entrance near Kinloch Hold." Her finger traced the path north, to the east of Lake Calenhad. "At that point, if weather permits further travel, I would like them to switch, and then proceed on the Amgarrack Road north, turning up to West Hill."
Astrid pursed her lips, thinking. "On the journey south, that stretch of the Atredum Road—the Deep Road between Orzammar and the entrance near Ostagar—" she explained to Tara and Danith "—was hotly contested. The dwarven army killed a lot of darkspawn, I'm told." She shrugged. "It could be that it's fairly clear, at that."
Bronwyn hoped so. "Obviously, we don't know much about the Deep Road between Ostagar and Lake Belennas, but it would answer a lot of questions if the section north of that is not yet repopulated."
Tara thought about it, too. "If we don't see a lot of darkspawn, it could mean that they were decimated, or it could just mean that the Archdemon has led the horde somewhere else."
Astrid pointed to a name on the map. "If we go north toward West Hill, we will come upon Zygmunt Thaig. That could be interesting. It has been in the power of the darkspawn for a long time, and I know of no expeditions that have explored it."
"Destroy what darkspawn you can," Bronwyn said, "but don't be destroyed yourself. This is a scouting mission, not a duel to the death."
"Where are you going?" Tara asked Bronwyn.
Bronwyn had considered telling her people about her plans to take the throne, but perhaps this was not yet the time. Instead, she only shared her share of their general mission.
"I'm going north. I have to go to Denerim for all sorts of reasons anyway, but as you see there is yet another Deep Roads entrance—the one in Amaranthine at Drake's Fall."
Astrid leaned closer. "That is very close to Kal'Hirol," she said, "once a very important site for dwarven invention and smithing. Orzammar would be grateful if there were a way to once again reclaim that thaig."
"Really?" Bronwyn said. "I didn't know that. We'll hope we can achieve something useful for our dwarven allies. There's something else in the north I want to pursue. Near Drake's Fall is the site of an ancient fortress belonging to the Grey Wardens. It was our headquarters for hundreds of years, up until the time the order was banished from Ferelden."
"Yes," Astrid said, "I remember that trader fellow talking to you when we were in Denerim."
"I do too," Tara said, excited. "I forgot about it. Now that the civil war is over up north, you could see if it's in better shape than the outpost down here at Ostagar."
"That's the plan," Bronwyn agreed. "Before we spend any coin on the outpost here, I want to have a look at Soldier's Peak. It's not so remote as Ostagar, nor as cold, and from what Dryden said, it's considerably bigger."
"What if Tara and Astrid get snowed in?' Alistair brought up, sorry that he would not be seeing Soldier's Peak for himself.
"Well, I certainly don't want them to try to survive the winter at the Spoiled Princess tavern!" Bronwyn said tartly. "Good point, and it's not as easily arranged as Danith's accommodations. The northwest is trickier. However, most of the banns there are Cousland vassals, however lightly they wore their loyalty in the last few months. Bann Loren's manor, here—" she pointed, "would do. Even better would be West Hill, if you can actually get that far. It's a huge and mostly empty old fortress. Quarters there would be no problem, though provisions might be expensive. I'll see you're all well supplied with coin. If you can possibly manage it, make for Highever. My brother's people will see you right. Then you'll simply have to make the best call. If the weather holds, take the North Road for Denerim and report. Otherwise, hold fast where you are and patrol as best you can."
Astrid got up and walked around the table, considering it. "I think," she said slowly, "if the weather is at all questionable, we should stay in West Hill. We can access the Deep Roads from there, and strike out further on the Amgarrack Road. Who is the lord there?"
"Bann Frandarel," Bronwyn shrugged. "He's something of a recluse. He sent a small party to Ostagar. The bannorn was a rich one, long ago, hence the size of his fortress, but the land was laid waste during the Occupation and Rebellion. There was a very significant battle there."
She said no more about that, as the battle had been a very significant defeat for King Maric and his army, and the Rebellion had nearly ended then and there.
"It's true that Bann Frandarel is my brother's vassal, and I shall give you a letter of introduction. Of course, your status as Grey Wardens ought to give you hospitality anyway."
Danith looked confused. "I thought that the old arl with the loud voice was the lord of West Hill."
Bronwyn looked blank, and then laughed a little. "It used to confuse me, too. In Ferelden we have both an arling of West Hills, and a bannorn of West Hill. Bann Frandarel's lands are here—" she pointed to the dot on the northwest coast. "The arling is in the southwest," she said, indicating the legend. "It's too bad they couldn't come up with something more distinctive!"
It was a plan, or at least the beginnings of one. The surface party in the west would have a supply wagon, which would slow them down, but be vital to their success. Alistair tended to think that they would need two wagons, in fact. They also discussed taking detachments of their allies with them.
"I do not want a wagon," Danith said, thinking it over. "We will not be traveling by road, and it will be very hard going…" she paused. "Unless we had an aravel, drawn by halla. They are lighter, but could carry a great deal. Merrill might let us have an aravel. Would that be unseemly for Grey Wardens?"
Alistair grinned. "Not at all! I think it's a great idea. Of course, you might want to fly a Grey Warden banner to make it official!"
"One more thing," Bronwyn said, "Tara, I'm taking Anders with me, and thus Morrigan. I was inclined to take Zevran as well, but you may prefer to have him with you."
Tara looked sad. "I'll miss him," she said steadily, "but if you're going to Denerim, he should be there. Zevran's at his best in a city. He knows all the gangs. It'll give me an incentive to get done and join you. Besides…" she thought a little more. "I think for my first command…people will respect me more if they don't see me with my boyfriend all the time. Take Zevran to Denerim."
"Let's talk to him," said Bronwyn. "We also need to see how he feels about it."
They agreed to let the recruits enjoy a day of rest and leisure, but set up a training and exercise rota for the five or six days until the patrols would depart. Everyone wanted a closer look at the recruits' capabilities before the final assignments were made.
In fact, as they walked out of the Tower of Ishal toward the training grounds, they saw that the recruits had already undertaken some informal practice of their own. A group of archers were in fierce competition to uphold the honor of their race, class, or town. They were putting on quite a show, and many more than Grey Wardens were crowding close to watch and place bets. Bronwyn was considering making it official and finding a piece of booty to offer as a prize, when one of Loghain's personal guards hailed her.
"My lady!" the man said, "the Teyrn is in the War Room, and requires your presence at once."
The contest forgotten, Bronwyn followed the man across the bridge to the big log building constructed under the ancient pillars of the fortress.
"Shut the door," Loghain said. On first glance, he seemed calm. On the second, she saw that he was blazing with repressed violence. "Ill tidings from Denerim," he told her.
"What has happened?" Bronwyn asked, a thousand possibilities flitting through her mind, all bad.
"Sit." He pointed at a chair. In his hand was a folded piece of parchment that bore the Queen's seal, broken. "We were not the only targets on the seventh. The Arl of Denerim's bridal feast was attacked. It was…brutal."
Bronwyn waited, in wretched suspense.
Loghain referred back to the note. "Anora was not wounded, but there were heavy losses. She wrote this immediately after the attack was repulsed—and she gives a great deal of credit for that to Leonas' courage and quick wits. Banns Ceorlic, Loren, Reginalda, and Grainne were killed outright."
Bronwyn caught her breath, eyes wide.
Loghain glanced at her, grim, and continued, "Arl Urien was wounded to some degree, though Anora does not know how badly. Dead are Ladies Werberga Bryland—"
"Werberga!" Bronwyn gasped, horrified at the idea of the murder of that silly, harmless woman.
"—Adela Claycombe, Miriah Poole, and Thalma Youngbloode. Bann Frandarel's eldest son, too. Also wounded were Leonas' younger son, Bann Alfstanna, Bann Sighard, and Lady Seria Mac Coo. Anora says there were more losses, but she was writing this in haste. The assassins were disguised as minstrels and entertainers at the feast. Some of them were killed, a few captured, and many more escaped and are at large. They were Orlesian, yes, and their hirelings," he added, in reply to her unspoken question.
"The Empress has been a busy girl, it would seem," Bronwyn said, her smile bitter.
"There is more. Some guests were injured when the Knight-Commander had his Templars shove through the crowd, as they hustled the Grand Cleric to safety. And also—" he frowned, making some of the same connections that Anora had.
"Also," he said, "Wynne was arrested by the Templars a few hours before the event, which could point to collusion by the Chantry."
"Maker!"
Anora had not been hurt, but there was no denying that this was a blow—a serious blow—to the safety of the realm. In the space of a few minutes, four bannorns had lost their leaders. There were three vacant bannorns in Amaranthine alone, and four in Highever, and now—Andraste's nightgown!—How were they to find rulers for all these now, too?
Loren's son was dead, of course, killed in the Highever massacre. Bronwyn had no idea who could claim that title. Loren had no siblings, except for a sister who had taken orders and was now gone, too. It was possible that the bannorn would legally revert to Highever's direct rule. It was another plum for Fergus to offer some loyal man of his.
"What a tragedy!" she said, winded. "And what a tangle. How, terribly, terribly cruel!"
"It's clear to a child that the Orlesians want to destabilize the country, hoping to make their move when we are at our weakest. We cannot wait for a Landsmeet in Haring. I must go to Denerim, now— today. And you must come with me."
Trying to keep up with events, Bronwyn thought hard. "I had planned major missions for my people. I briefed them this morning. We should still go ahead with them."
Loghain nodded. "Yes, so you said. You'll keep Alistair here, I trust?"
"Yes. He'll command the Wardens in Ostagar."
"Keep the Qunari here with him," Loghain said. "I don't want him going about the country, nosing out all our secrets."
"Very well. Sten will stay with Alistair and his Wardens. Danith will go east to Gwaren and then up through the Brecilian Forest. Tara and Astrid will go up the eastern shore of Lake Calendhad: Tara on the surface, and Astrid in the Deep Roads. Ultimately I want them to go all the way to West Hill, or as far as they can get before snow flies."
He glanced at the map, seeing it all, and approved.
More slowly, Bronwyn said, "Yes, I must go with you. I can see that. We'll have to announce our betrothal as soon as we reach Denerim. And I was planning to go north anyway. I wanted to scout the Deep Road entrance in Amaranthine. I can call my people together and arrange for my own party to go with us today: six Wardens and one or two allies. The other missions should move out in three or four days. Yes, I can do this."
"Talk to your people," he said, eyes fierce and intent. "I'll call the commanders together. I had not planned to do this immediately, but events have forced my hand. I intend to leave Cauthrien here with a company of Maric's shield. The nobles will want to come to Denerim with us, or at least very soon. Many have family who were killed or injured. I'll talk to the dwarves and the Dalish, and let them know what's going on. Talk to your people and get back here as quickly as possible."
A horrible thought struck Bronwyn.
"What if this is exactly what the Orlesians planned? The breakup of the army? The rush to Denerim?"
He shook his head. "What they do not know is that the darkspawn have withdrawn. They undoubtedly believe us still to be under heavy attack. They think us pinned down. We are not."
Unexpectedly, he seized Bronwyn in his arms and kissed her hungrily. She warmed at the embrace; reassured, flushed with life. When he broke the kiss, he held her at arms' length, with a grim little half smile. Then he gently kissed her forehead.
"Surprise is on our side, my girl. We'll make them regret this."
Darach won the archery competition, to the delight of the Dalish. Cathair, who would be traveling with Bronwyn, and the human archer Catriona had also performed brilliantly.
Bronwyn found Alistair, and whispered her news in his incredulous ear; and then the Wardens were ordered to report to the Tower at once. Next she sought out Zevran.
"Walk with me, if you please. I have to return to the Tower."
There was no time to be bashful.
"Zevran, I've got to go to Denerim today. In a few days Tara will be leading a patrol north by way of Lake Calenhad. We'd like you to go with one of us, but the choice is yours. Darkspawn and bandits with Tara, or darkspawn and politics with me."
To Zevran, there was no choice. "I am your sworn man, and the Blight is not yet over. I must, by what honor an assassin can command, serve you. Something is in the wind, I take it?"
"On the same day that those elves attempted to kill Loghain and me, there were other attacks in Denerim. The Queen is safe, but some nobles were killed, and everything's in an uproar. Please keep this to yourself, until I have the chance to tell everyone. So you're with me?"
"I have said it."
"Good. I suspect that things will be sticky in the north."
By the time the Junior Wardens had made it back to the tower, Bronwyn had torn through her belongings and found a handsome gold ring.
"Congratulations to Darach, today's champion archer of the Grey Wardens!" She presented the prize to him, amidst cheers. "I'm glad to see all you new Wardens honing your skills. You'll need them in the coming days."
Quickly, Bronwyn informed them of events. Orlesians assassins had attacked in Denerim. Many had been slain or wounded, and it was unclear how bad the situation was. Apparently, it was part of the same attack that had targeted Loghain and Bronwyn on the very same day. It appeared that foreign powers were attempting to hamper the efforts against the Blight. She had already made plans to send some the Wardens on scouting missions around Ferelden, and now the plans must be accelerated a little. She and her own patrol must leave today, along with Teyrn Loghain and a portion of the royal army.
"Some of you will remain here under Senior Warden Alistair's command. Senior Warden Tara will command one of the missions. Let me take this opportunity to announce some promotions. Astrid and Danith are also now Senior Wardens, and will command the other missions. After them, the chain of command goes to the Wardens above the rank of Junior Warden in this order: Wardens Leliana, Anders, Brosca, Jowan, Carver, Adaia, and Oghren, due to his long service as our ally."
Even more briefly, Bronwyn outlined the extent and purpose of the missions. The Senior Wardens remaining would have to make the final assignments of personnel.
"I shall be going north, first to Denerim to deal with the political situation there, and then further north to Amaranthine, to scout out the Deep Roads entrance in that arling. With me will travel Warden Anders and the following Junior Wardens: Aveline, Toliver, Cathair, Hakan, and Soren. Our allies Morrigan and Zevran will also travel with us. Get your gear together: we will be leaving after the midday meal! We'll have a wagon, so at least you'll not be burdened with a pack on the march. Junior Wardens are dismissed. Everyone else, stay."
The door was shut, and Bronwyn looked at her comrades. Only Alistair knew the whole story of what was going to happen in Denerim, and now that it came to it, she felt some sorrow and unease at what she had to say. There was nothing else to be done, so she came out with it.
"As I told the Junior Wardens, I am going north to Denerim, to help sort out the situation. There was a great loss of life in the attack, and there is also the possibility that it took place with the collusion of elements in the Chantry. For those of you who don't know much about human religion, that is a very serious matter. The Divine, the arbiter of our Prophet, rules from Val Royeaux, and certainly has never hesitated in furthering the interests of her own country. If the Chantry is involved in hampering our efforts against the Blight, we might find ourselves fighting Templars as well as Tainted creatures."
"The Templars won't march against Ferelden, if it means they have to face darkspawn," Tara said, scowling.
"They might not come as far south as Ostagar," Bronwyn allowed, "but they might attack our supply trains and make trouble for the mages who are serving in the army. To be frank, Loghain thinks that the Orlesians don't know how effective we've been so far, and they probably believe we're pinned down here. Our problem is quite different, actually. The darkspawn seemed to have largely withdrawn from the south, and we don't know where they are right now. Thus the scouting expeditions. Since I'm leaving in a few hours, you'll have to hash out the personnel assignments yourselves, though I've left some notes with Alistair. You don't need to move out for a few days. It's important that you're thoroughly prepared. I wish all the mages could transform into birds, so we'd have better communication, but we'll do the best we can. Loghain is leaving official letters with the Wardens that will enable you to demand the cooperation of royal couriers."
Alistair was looking at her, kind and serious; it was time to tell them everything.
"There's more, but I ask that you keep it to yourselves until the public announcement is made. As you know, King Cailan left no heir. With the current unrest, it's more important than ever that the Landsmeet choose a ruler for Ferelden that all can unite behind. Many people would like Teyrn Loghain to assume the throne, but he has no royal blood, and the nobles might balk. My family—the Couslands—are next in line of succession by blood. My brother has said that he does not want the Crown, choosing instead to restore the north to peace and security. Therefore…"
"Oh!" cried Tara, smiling like a sunrise.
"Oh!" Adaia croaked, a second later, beautiful eyes wide.
They were the first to catch on, but Astrid looked up quickly, only a beat behind them.
Brosca gaped, and then said outright, "Boss, are you going to marry the big guy so he can be King? That sounds like Orzammar, sort of."
Astrid laughed. "It does! You will raise him to the royal caste by marriage!"
Anders was grinning. "Bronwyn's getting married! Can I be a bridesmaid?"
"Bronwyn's going to be Queen!" Tara squealed. "All hail Queen Bronwyn!"
Danith was more sober. "You will be Queen of the shemlens. Will you resign from the Wardens?"
"No!" Bronwyn assured them all instantly. "I will continue to serve. Defeating the Blight is of paramount importance. I will be Queen, because that way those who put store by blood will be satisfied, and the country will continue to have the best leadership during this crisis. There will be a wedding and a Landsmeet and a coronation, but in between those events and after them, I will continue to focus on my duties as a Warden. If the darkspawn triumph, a trumpery crown will be of little worth indeed."
"But you like Loghain," Tara declared. "It's not like you're having to marry somebody you don't like."
"Yes," Bronwyn agreed. "I like Loghain. I think we can work together well."
Tara only looked annoyed. "That's not what I meant."
"Wait!" Adaia's voice cracked, and she waved her hands in agitation. "Your red gown! Leliana and I finished the alterations and the little cape. I was going to give them to you for Satinalia!"
Bronwyn had not thought about Queen Rowan's gown in days, but was relieved to hear that she would have something to wear.
"Thank you so much! I'll be sure to take that with me."
Brosca said, "We won't all be together again for a long time, will we?"
A pause. Bronwyn experienced a curious pang of grief. No, she would not see many of these faces for months. If some were unlucky, perhaps… No, she would not allow herself to think like that.
"We'll meet in Denerim!" she said. "And perhaps by next spring, the south will be so clear that Alistair can join us there, too."
"Let's make a pact!" Tara proposed. "Next spring in Denerim! Maybe the first of Drakonis! If the darkspawn permit," she added, in a smaller voice.
The future lay before them, ineffable and uncertain. Each thought about what another five months might bring, and paused, baffled.
Alistair hoped that no one would force him to attend the Landsmeet. Surely Bronwyn would sweep all before her, and the next time they met, he would be bending the knee before his Queen. The thought of Bronwyn married to Loghain did not make as him unhappy as it once might have. Loghain had been more than decent to him, and had taught him so much. Alistair had once had thought about Bronwyn for himself, but over time they had evolved into brother and sister—if he had had a loving but very bossy older sister. For himself, he would much rather spend the winter here, with the Wardens, with the army and its allies, fighting darkspawn, clearing the tunnels they had dug; making the world safe, though no one else might know it. He would miss his friends, but he would not be totally alone. He had his fine new batch of Wardens, and he already had a feeling that he and Emrys were going to be good friends. Adaia would be here, too,working diligently, so lively and pretty, now that she was able to eat properly. Oghren…yes, he'd keep Oghren here. The dwarf knew how to train recruits, and he and Sten were fairly companionable. Sten…well, he knew that Bronwyn wanted Sten to stay in Ostagar. The qunari was a fortress in himself, and if the darkspawn doubled back, he would be worth even his considerable weight in gold. Yes…friends, and Warden-work, a settled routine here in Ostagar. And, Andraste be merciful, no Landsmeet. Life could be far worse.
Tara was excited and more than a little nervous at the prospect of command. Bronwyn made it look effortless, and Tara knew that her own style would be very different. She was not the imposing daughter of an ancient noble house, but an elf and a mage, and thus among the lowly of Thedas. But she was a Warden, and that made all the difference. She would wear her Warden tunic everywhere. If she had to beat everyone over the head with her status, so be it. She would, she decided, take Brosca to back her up. Oghren and she were not so compatible. Yes, Brosca and she would work really well together. They had the prospect of meeting up with Astrid and her people, too, which was immensely reassuring. Tara had a great deal of faith in Astrid. Zevran…would be missed, but Tara realized she was far more excited about her new command. They wouldn't be separated all that long, after all. Magic was never supposed to rule over people, but Tara would be ruling over her own detachment of Wardens. She had come a long way from the abused and oppressed prisoner of the Circle.
Denerim! Anders was quite enchanted at the prospect. Morrigan had never been to Denerim—never seen a real city, or at least a real human city. Orzammar was grand in a creepy, sunless, and monumental way, but Denerim! And he was completely safe from the Chantry! He could shop at The Wonders of Thedas with no fear of repercussions, and of course if everyone would presume that Morrigan was a Warden, too. The others had told him what a great place the Warden Compound was. With luck, he and Morrigan could have a private room with an actual bed, which could only improve what was, in his opinion, a beautiful friendship.
I hope I go with one of the scouting teams, Brosca decided. I need to get out of here for awhile. Which gang she went with did not matter that much to her, though she was sorry the Boss was not taking her along. No big surprise. These kids would need all the help they could get in the Deep Roads. She got on all right with Danith, and pretty well now with the Princess of Orzammar. And Tara. She liked Tara, in spite of herself, but the memory of Cullen still hurt. She shouldn't hold Cullen against Tara. In the end, he had chosen her— Freydis Brosca—and was coming back to her, if a dragon hadn't got in the way. Sodding Stone, but she hated dragons. So she'd go out there and hunt for the Stone-cursed Archdemon, the biggest dragon of them all, and she'd kill it, and wear its hide the way the Boss was wearing Flemeth. She smiled. The Boss had style. Brosca hoped they could get the scouting done soon enough that she could be at the wedding, or at least see the Boss in her crown. She wondered if it would be as fancy as that one Caridin made for Bhelen. Thinking of Bhelen made her think of Rica and her nuglet. Brosca wished they could make a detour all the way to Orzammar. She had some nice bits of treasure put by now, and it would be something to give the kid a present. Her train of thought was briefly derailed. Presents? Didn't people give wedding presents? She remembered the Boss finding something to give her cousin—the one whose wedding got broken up by the Orlesian gang. The Wardens should give the Boss a wedding present! Something really special. She'd need to talk to everybody about it later...
Brooding a bit over which Wardens would fall to her lot, Danith focused on the mission ahead, where she would be in independent command. She would lead her Wardens as she saw fit. Overbearing and arrogant as Bronwyn could be, she at least recognized the value of Dalish expertise. The mission was not an unworthy one, and well suited to Danith's abilities. However exasperating she found them, she must be fair to her shemlen Wardens. Or as fair as they deserved. That fellow Aeron, the singer... he had behaved well, and done as he was told. Perhaps he would prove a pleasant companion. For so many Dalish, durgen'len, and shemlen to work together against the Blight must teach them much about cooperation in the future. And she could not complain about the respect that her status as a Grey Warden commanded. She must get to Merrill and discuss this news. If Bronwyn were to be the shemlen Queen, then there would never be a better time than now for Merrill to get a firm commitment from her about a Dalish homeland.
So Bronwyn would be a Queen. Astrid pondered the matter, wondering if it could serve as a precedent. She reproved herself for such daydreams. Still, it probably had not occurred to Bronwyn that Bhelen might be made very, very nervous by the news that a Grey Warden was ascending a throne. The thought of Bhelen's unease brought a smile to her lips. As it was, she should not complain. She was an officer now, raised to the rank of Senior Warden. She would have a command once more. However small it was, it was still a command, and Astrid was going to do all she could with it. A brief regret made her pause. Yes, she would miss Alistair, but he was such a boy, after all... And his claim to the throne was clearly about to come to nothing. He, however, seemed to be glad of it. Astrid would never, if she lived to be a thousand, understand that. As for her, she liked the idea of her mission very much. Some time in the Deep Roads. Some time on the surface. A mixed command, too, with dwarves, elves and humans. That would be a very interesting challenge. The elves did not seem to resent dwarven command as much as they did that of humans. She herself was extremely curious about the state of the Deep Roads in Ferelden. They very possibly might stumble on the horde itself, withdrawn into one of the big, deserted Thaigs. The mission would require care and shrewd scouting. Astrid turned her mind to that, rejoicing in even the shred of power that had come under her hand once more.
A little disappointed that she would not be going to Denerim any time soon, Adaia settled back on the bench. She was promoted, anyway. Maybe she would be due more coin. If any other Wardens came to work on bombs and poisons, she would be in charge, she supposed. Some of the dwarves were interested in that, and that Dalish girl Siofranni. It was not like she minded her work: it was the most interesting and best-paying job she'd ever had. An exciting thought came to her: she could send money home to Father and Shianni! She glanced around, and saw that Alistair was looking a bit sad and wistful too. He must be sorry not to get away and have a new adventure. He caught her eye and gave her a rueful smile. She smiled back, and he brightened up a bit. She had never imagined she would think it of a shem, but Alistair was a very nice boy, and very nice-looking, too. When she had first joined the Wardens, she had the idea that he and Bronwyn were something, but Bronwyn was involved with Teyrn Loghain. What she thought about that Adaia was never going to reveal to anyone. At least Bronwyn would get to be Queen, and maybe she would be kind to elves. In fact... More pleasant thoughts came to her, as she thought of repairs that could be made, and wrongs righted, if an elf of the Denerim Alienage had the ear of the Queen of Ferelden.
Branka had once told him that there were no second chances in life. Wrong again, sweet hips, Oghren snorted. Here he was on the surface, in an outfit that even the deshyrs had to respect, and he'd been promoted to full Warden after a day. A day. Whatever the Boss cooked up for him to do, he'd do it and not whine like some sort of pansy elf. As long as he didn't drink so much that he couldn't stand on his feet and swing an axe—as long as he didn't totally screw it up— the world was his. He could march into Orzammar, armed to the teeth, and the bastards would have to nod and smile, and say, "Atrast Vala, Grey Warden!" just as nice as you please. Next... he needed to find himself a woman. Astrid was too high and mighty: sort of a Branka with better common sense, which was a scary prospect in itself; Brosca was still moping about that Chantry Boy. But there were some sodding fine women in camp, and surely Oghren Kondrat could find one to call his own.
News spread of the attack on Denerim. A great many oaths of vengeance were sworn, some even without the aid of strong liquor. As Loghain had predicted, quite a few of the nobles felt they must go to Denerim to see to family and to set things in order. Their Seconds were left with reduced forces, and with instructions to obey Ser Cauthrien and to heed the advice of Senior Warden Alistair.
There was a flurry of packing, of arranging the wagons, of dividing some of Master Wade's weapons amongst the Wardens. Bronwyn promised to order more when she was in Denerim. Tara and Zevran disappeared into their little cubby, no doubt making their fond farewells. They had been so happy that Bronwyn regretted separating them. With luck, it would only be for a few months.
Adaia pressed the refurbished red gown on Bronwyn, and it was deposited, carefully packed, into a trunk. She also pressed on Bronwyn a coin purse and a little bag of gifts for her family, which Bronwyn solemnly promised to deliver.
"And when you're there..." Adaia said anxiously, "if you see something that needs to be fixed, you go right ahead and make sure it gets done. Please?" she added.
She looked so small and defenseless that Bronwyn felt ashamed to do anything else but comply.
"I shall."
There was little time to do anything but get ready to leave: there was almost no time to think. Nonetheless, Merrill slipped through the mob to confront Bronwyn as she scribbled a few more notes for Alistair.
"I hear you're going to be Queen. Congratulations. That's nice for you." said the fey little elf.
Bronwyn glanced at her friends, who discreetly moved away. Merrill wanted something, and Bronwyn was quite sure she knew what it was.
"Loghain and I are going to be put forward for the throne. I think our chances our good," she answered. "Thank you for your kind words."
"Well, if you are to be King and Queen, everyone thinks it would be a good idea if you'd proclaim that we Dalish are to have land. Oh...I shouldn't have said it right out like that, should I? I was supposed to be diplomatic, but you're so busy, and being diplomatic takes such a lot of time. Cailan wanted us to have land. How do you feel about it?"
Trying not to laugh, Bronwyn thought it best to be straightforward. "Loghain and I both believe that the Dalish ought to have real, concrete rewards for their alliance. Cailan originally proposed some territory here in the south, but since you think it's not suitable for the winter, I had thought that the area around the elven temple we found in the Brecilian Forest might be much better: it's not Blighted, for one thing, and its full of game. Besides, the temple itself is so significant and impressive that surely the Dalish would like to reclaim it as part of their rightful heritage."
Expecting more of a debate, Merrill stared at her a moment. "Oh. Then it's all right, then. We have to leave some of our people here, but perhaps I'll have a look at this temple myself. I've never been there, but it does sound very nice."
"The biggest question is whether you want any land on the seacoast."
"Why would we want that?" Merrill wondered. "We don't want to sail away. We wouldn't know how. Of course we do want all the land we can get."
"Well, then, why don't you or some scouts have a look at the place and think about what would work best for you? Do it soon, and then come to Denerim to meet with us. I'll be doing some scouting in the north myself, but I'll be in the city from time to time."
Merrill looked at her a moment, blinking. "This is so nice!" she finally exclaimed. "I do like talking with people who will say what they really think. I've always liked you, Bronwyn. I hope you enjoy being Queen. It's quite a bit like being a Keeper, isn't it?"
"Very like," Bronwyn agreed.
Dax stood ready: saddled and waiting. Scout ran about, barking and excited, wanting to smell everyone and everything. Zevran and Tara were making a romantic spectacle of themselves, which made Bronwyn smile a bit. Commands were shouted in the organized chaos of the departure. Bronwyn caught a glimpse of Morrigan, already mounted, her face closed and tight with displeasure, evidently having some sharp words with Anders. She would have to find out what Morrigan was unhappy about, but it would have to wait while they got underway.
Her Junior Wardens were in order: Aveline had seen to it. That woman was going to be a gift of the Maker.
And her Wardens—her first Wardens—her loyal and faithful comrades— were gathered around wanting to bid her goodbye. Bronwyn glanced at Loghain, who was having a quick, businesslike conversation with Cauthrien. She had a moment, then.
They seemed a little repressed, a little in awe. All except Brosca, of course, who hugged her.
"I'll miss you, Boss. Put those deshyrs of yours in their place!"
That broke the ice, and there were more hugs, and hearty hand-shakes, as Bronwyn made her hasty farewells.
"Administration is an appropriate role for a capable female," said Sten, studying her with a considering look. "A worthy use of ability. Hereditary monarchy, of course, is a primitive form of government; but your people have as yet not been enlightened by the Qun."
Bronwyn supposed this was a form of congratulations, so she smiled and gave him a slight bow of acknowledgement. Oghren slapped her on the back, and even Danith wished her well. Merrill must have already told her friend the upshot of their conversation. Well, if Danith was actually pleased with her, that was all to the good. The mission to Gwaren was important.
She was hugged by a tearful Tara, by a more collected but smiling Astrid, and then, more shyly, by Adaia.
"I won't forget my promise," Bronwyn said softly. Adaia nodded and backed away, biting her lip, eyes alight with hope.
Alistair was red-eyed and mournful, and seeing him made Bronwyn rather emotional herself.
"You take care of yourself," he managed. "Watch out for people in disguise with daggers, because—"
She threw her arms around him, the tears breaking free. "I wish you were coming! I wish you were! Who knows when we'll meet again?"
At that, there were throat-clearings and sniffles all around. Even the coolest heads and hearts among them were grave and thoughtful.
Another fierce hug, metal to dragonbone; a rasp of her cheek against his stubble, and she stepped back, wiping her face. "Alistair, you are and always will be my brother."
He wiped his eyes too, with a crooked grin. "I always wanted a big family."
"You've got one," she laughed a little wildly. "You've got me and the Wardens...over fifty sisters and brothers! You've got Fergus as a sort of half-brother, and when I marry Loghain, you'll have a brother-in-law!"
"Does that make Queen Anora my niece?" His voice cracking, he asked anxiously, "Are you sure you've got everything?"
"Yes!"
"And don't forget to write."
"I won't."
"And write the First Warden, too, and give him what for! Duncan would have been ashamed of him, leaving the Blight to us!"
She punched him on the arm, laughing a little. Her Sword of Mercy swung free, and at the sight of it Alistair grinned again.
"Don't take it off," he told her. "It sounds like you'll have lots of opportunity to find out just how merciful you can be, once you get to Denerim!"
"I'll never take it off."
Loghain was looking her way now, ready to be gone, and Alistair gave her a leg up into tall Dax's saddle. The sun was still fairly high. If they moved quickly, they could be halfway to Lothering by sunset. The Imperial Highway stretched before them, lined with trees ablaze with autumn, the pavement gloriously carpeted with leaves yellow as fire and red as blood. A little gust of wind blew past, catching the ensigns, making them snap and flutter.
The trumpets blared, and they rode out together. Bronwyn turned her head, seeing her friends—even Sten—growing small with distance.
"Goodbye!" she called. "Goodbye! Stay safe and hold fast! I'll see you in Denerim sooner than you think!"
Thanks to my reviewers: Zute, JackOfBladesX, Girl-chama, sizuka2, anon, Hydroplatypus, Nemrut, Enaid Aderyn, Mike3207, Kira Kyuu, almostinsane, Blinded in a bolthole, Judy, KnightOfHolyLight, Chandagnac, Have Travel, Rexiselic, Verpine, Psyche Sinclair, amanda weber, Death Knight's Crowbar, Tsu Doh Nimh, Anime-StarWars-fan-zach, BAms, Jenna53, mille libri, EpitomyofShyness, Shakespira, Jose Lange, MsBarrows, FearIsMyTwin, stainglasspeppermint, Cobar713, and timunderwood9.