disclaimer type=standard

Anything you recognise is Bioware's. I daresay anything else belongs to them too.

/disclaimer

o_ooo000ooo_o

Cassandra touched her fist to her chin, deep in thought. "It sounds like Teyrn Fergus did not take to you at all."

A nod. "True. As I said before, he was terrified of me, or at least of my magic, for a long time."

A light knock sounded from the cell door. Tentatively, the heavy, steel-bound door swung outwards slightly and a helmeted head leaned through the gap. "I have the board you requested, Warden."

Cassandra glared at the guard for a second, before turning a curious gaze on the elf. "Board?" she asked. "What board?"

The Warden shrugged, rose to her feet and accepted the heavy stone slab from the guard. "A chessboard. A way to while away the tedious hours while incarcerated. I do hope you don't mind."

The Seeker ground her teeth together. An interrogation had a flow, a natural timing, and the Warden's story was flowing nicely indeed. She did not need such a distraction. "Do you intend to play both sides yourself?" she asked, a little nastily.

Kathryn dumped the stone slab on the table, which shook slightly under the sudden weight. "No. I've met someone who used to do that. I never could understand why." She dragged the desk out from the wall, and seated herself on one side. She drew open a drawer on one side of the stone board, and took out a pair of velvet bags. From these, she extracted intricately carved stone game pieces, and assembled the board. "Sit, please."

With a smothered sigh of irritation, Cassandra sat down on the opposite chair, the leather portions of her armour squeaking and rubbing audibly against the metallic parts.

Kathryn smiled at her, and twisted the board so that the quartz pieces were in front of Cassandra, and the onyx pieces in front of her.

Cassandra looked down at the board. First move to her. She looked back up at the Warden, whose eyes were filled with mirth. "How very subtle, Warden," she said sourly.

Kathryn gave her a chuckle. "Of all my companions over the years, only Leliana would have understood that."

"You don't give Teyrn Loghain that much credit?"

The Warden shook her head. "Loghain never really took to chess. He told me he considered the game too limited when compared to reality, but that Cauthrien played well. He'd probably have preferred to convince all the footmen to rush the enemy at once."

"True military strategists place great value on the game."

Another dismissive snort. "And they all make the same mistake - confusing the ability to plan and execute a battle with leadership. Orlais has military commanders who are masters of the game, yet not one of them could stand against an army led by a single truly great leader."

Cassandra paused, considering the distinction. "Do you consider yourself a great leader?"

Kathryn gave a small shrug. "A good one, perhaps. I kept my company together and alive through the Blight, with only that one, unavoidable exception. I lead from the front, rather than the rear, and I trust my people to do their jobs. That alone earned me deep loyalty from many. But I have only ever directly led relatively small numbers. So, a good Captain perhaps."

The Seeker shook her head disbelievingly. "You took a force of five hundred and slaughtered your way through over fifty times that number on your way to Val Royeaux!"

Kathryn gave her a look. "No, they were more of an escort for me while I did the killing. It's your move."

Cassandra stared at the elf for a long while, before reaching out and moving her King's footman a couple of squares forward. "What happened the day after the darkspawn attack?"

The Warden moved her own King's footman forward two squares, blocking her opponent's, and replied, "I tidied up."

Cassandra waited patiently, until it became clear that the story would only progress if she continued the game. She huffed under her breath, but moved her King's Chevalier to threaten the Warden's in-play piece. "And then?"

Without hesitation, the Warden moved her own King's Chevalier to defend her footman. "The camp broke down, and we shifted out. Nothing special."

The Seeker's lips curled slightly, but she pushed her King's Cleric diagonally along the board, letting it threaten the Warden's rear line of unmoved footmen. "This is becoming tedious," she growled.

Kathryn looked down at the board, and nodded with satisfaction. "The Antivan Game; an unsurprising opening, given what I know of you. Classical, aggressive, and it usually warrants defensive play by black." She looked up at the Seeker, mirth evident in her elvish features. "However, the style of play which actually gives the highest chance for a black victory is a vigorous counter-attack. Oh, and we continued onto Soldier's Peak, of course."

o_ooo000ooo_o

I rose well before sunrise the next morning. Like most of the other soldiers in camp, I had trouble getting back to sleep after the night's excitement. I unpacked my archdemon scale armour. If there were lingering darkspawn groups around, I wanted to be a little more protected than in just a robe, despite how much more uncomfortable it was.

It was annoying to dress in armour without assistance, some of the straps and buckles were in particularly inconvenient places. But I managed to struggle into the beautiful armour and stuff my robe and nightshirt into my pack. I took down my tent, noting that even as early as it was, my tent was one of the last standing.

I deactivated the protective runes I'd set around my wagon and dropped my travelling pack on top of the boxes. A disgusting miasma of greasy darkspawn ash lingered in the chill, still morning air, the remnants of my bonfire last night. It coated the tongue and made you want to spit. Unsurprisingly, few soldiers had any appetite. Captain Francois declared that we would break our fast at a village a mile or so away. A pair of guards were sent off to give notice to whatever inn or tavern was available that four dozen people needed feeding.

Around the camp's edge, soldiers were dismantling the temporary fortifications, packing them for transport. The wooden stakes that had darkspawn blood on them needed to be burned, but for the most part, the defences could be reused at our next camp.

Thunder jumped up on the driver's seat and gave me a whine of impatience. He patted the seat thrice with his front paw.

"I know boy, I want to get out of here too. But we have to wait until the soldiers are ready."

Thunder grumbled like an adolescent who'd just been told he had to wait to go to town. He flopped down on his belly, taking up the entire seat and more, his haunch spilling off the edge. He crossed his front paws and lay his head down upon them, giving off an air of extreme annoyance.

I snickered at the human-like attitude he was developing, and finished loading my tent and poles on the wagon. I left Thunder to his sulking and strolled out past the edge of camp, making sure there weren't any darkspawn remains that required immolation.

In the grey, pre-dawn light I fossicked about in the scorched earth looking for any valuables I missed in the dark. There were a few scorched coins and a nice gold necklace. Well, it would be nice once I scrubbed the crusted remains of time and decay from the thin chain. It was a puzzle; why did darkspawn collect valuables? As far as anyone knew, they were mindless. Did they trade with each other? Or could ghouls, the poor souls corrupted by the taint, actually transform into darkspawn under certain conditions? That was a possibility - they may retain their valuables simply because they had no reason to drop them once turned.

I pocketed my finds and scrubbed at the blackened earth with the toe of my armoured boot. Beneath the scorched layer, the dirt didn't seem corrupted. This area should be safe for those who would come and camp here later.

Captain Francois' orders were obeyed with alacrity, and it was only perhaps half an hour later that we were on our way. Thunder's mood improved in line with how much distance we put between us and the stink of burned darkspawn. Eventually, I got an earful of grateful, slobber-covered tongue, and he jumped off the wagon to run with his smaller friend.

Breakfast was a much more cheerful affair, the village tavern-keeper delighted to accept Fergus' note. He put on a plain, but hot and plentiful spread - eggs, fresh bread, butter and the cold, roasted remains of half a side of beef, washed down with ale. We lingered to mid-morning before setting off again.

A few hours after we'd left the village behind, Aedan rode closer to my wagon. He looked as though he was working up the courage to say something.

"Spit it out, I won't bite," I said with a smile.

He looked at me a little abashed. "Am I that transparent?"

I shrugged. "You've ridden your horse close to my wagon a few times this morning, but always trotted away before saying anything. I figured you'd speak once you'd rehearsed your lines a few more times."

He laughed nervously. "Yeah, I suppose I have. I, er, I wanted to apologise. I didn't believe you when you told me that you escaped from Fort Drakon without help. Arl Eamon told me the 'official' version, but my brother let me know what really happened at camp last night."

I nodded, staying silent.

"And, well, after your spell-work against the darkspawn, I can easily believe that you could break out of that prison."

"Mmmhmm," I murmured. "Nothing like seeing a localised storm kill dozens of your enemies to restore your faith. I take it you've never seen a mage in action?"

He shook his head. "I've helped an apostate healer deliver a baby, but no, I've never been close to a mage in battle. Not up close, at least; I watched you and the other mages kill the archdemon from across the city. The green lights, lightning, columns of fire and blizzards on the top of the tower all looked eerily pretty from a long way away." He grimaced. "I suppose it looked a lot deadlier from up close."

I chuckled. "Yes, it did indeed. It was a right bugger to kill, the archdemon. I'm just glad we got some experience in dragon-slaying beforehand."

He looked impressed. "The archdemon wasn't your first dragon kill?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Not by a long way. Besides the dozens of smaller dragonkin, we killed a High Dragon in the Frostback Mountains. It was the focus of a cult that fancied it Andraste reborn. And then there was a witch in the Korcari Wilds that could turn into a High Dragon."

Aedan shook his head. "I can't believe that we thought the dragons extinct."

I nodded with a hum of agreement. "It's the Dragon Age. Perhaps naming it thus was a true prophecy, that we'd see an archdemon and have a Blight."

Aedan shivered. "If that's true, I really, really hope that it meant we'd only have one Blight. There's almost seventy years left in Dragon Age."

I barked a laugh. "That's true. I wonder-" I broke off, glancing around.

"What is it?"

"Darkspawn," I replied. "Only a couple though."

"Can you tell where they are?"

I closed my eyes and concentrated. "Not really, I've not really been a Warden long enough to... wait, they're gone."

That surprised him. "They ran away? I didn't think darkspawn ran away from anything."

"They don't," I said warily, looking around. I could no longer sense them at all, but I was certain I'd felt them nearby.

A couple of barks sounded across the farmland, and our hounds raced over, bounding happily. I spotted the dark stains around their mouths first.

"Ah, I see Shadow and Thunder have been busy. Looks like they took the darkspawn down themselves."

"What?" Aedan gasped. "Shadow! Did you kill a darkspawn?"

"Whuff!" the midnight-black mabari confirmed, jumping around in an excited circle and looking very pleased with himself.

I laughed, but pulled back on the thin reins, slowing the ox to a stop. "I'd best go and make another bonfire. Thunder, guard the wagon, boy. Aedan, could you get Shadow to lead me to the corpses?"

"I'll come with you. I'd like to see his kill for myself. Come on Shadow."

It turned out to be a pair of hurlocks - well, a pair of hurlocks with no throats. Besides their rusty maces, between them they only had one silver and a handful of coppers. Shadow walked over to one of them and put his front paws on the foul thing's chest before giving us a bark of possession.

"I take it that was the one you felled, old friend," Aedan said cheerfully. "Well done!"

"Whuff!"

I chuckled to myself. I'd seen, and regretfully fought, many mabari that did not exhibit much in the way of intelligence, but Shadow was definitely in the same league as Thunder. "Well, our dogs have earned one silver and seven coppers worth of treats at the next village, it seems." This was greeted with an enthusiastic bark and a series of grateful licks.

I wiped the slobber from my face, waved Aedan's offered assistance away and rolled the hurlocks together. I reached my hands out and summoned elemental fire, scorching the unholy creatures until they were burning on their own.

"That is a very useful skill," Aedan remarked.

I nodded. "Yeah, the army now carries around barrels of pitch, or flasks of naphtha to help start fires to burn the corpses, but magic is so much easier. It's no wonder Alistair is courting apostate mages, offering them amnesty in return for service."

I found chatting to the younger Cousland much easier than his brother. We bantered our way back to the wagons and set off again at the steady pace of an ox.

Over the next week, we encountered small groups of darkspawn on a daily, and occasionally twice-daily basis. The dogs took their earned treats as an ongoing challenge, and managed to find and eliminate most of them, earning an impressive pile of coins and grateful pats from the men-at-arms escorting us. Only once were the rest of us permitted by our doggy-overlords to engage the darkspawn, and that was simply due to sheer numbers. Once again I dispatched most of them before the rest of the men had a chance to cross swords with them.

We stopped at Amaranthine overnight, but the Bann of the city was - we were told - in Denerim, and the house-staff were unable to accommodate us. Fergus accepted that graciously, though privately expressed some doubts. Esmerelle had not been in Denerim when we left, and we had not passed her on the road. Other accommodations were located, and the dogs' accumulated wealth was converted into a mound of jerky, kibble and a pair of vicious-looking collars.

A few nights out before Soldier's Peak, Fergus and Aedan invited me to sit with them around their fire away from the troops, ostensibly to discuss my upcoming appointment to the nobility. Instead, it started out as a gossip session that slowly turned into a subtle interrogation.

"You don't seem to get along with Arl Eamon," Fergus said diplomatically, after I'd settled down into a comfortable seated position.

Aedan's shoulders shook with silent laughter. "An understatement if I ever heard one, brother."

I grimaced. "No. We don't see eye to eye on some things."

Aedan's laughter was no longer silent. "Another understatement. Wonderful."

I gave the younger brother a mock-sour look. "Fine. Eamon is an idiot. The best thing I can say about him is that he's working himself into the ground trying to make up for his woeful treatment of Alistair when he was a boy."

Fergus blinked, looking taken aback. "I did not realise the depth of ill-will between you. If you are elevated to Arlessa, how will you work with the Chancellor? Technically you would be equals, though his proximity to the crown would lend his position more influence."

I shrugged. "I'll treat him exactly the same as I do now; with polite disdain. He knows that I would have no hesitation to call him out should he overstep his authority, and that I am quite happy for him to work undisturbed, so long as he fully backs Alistair."

Aedan scratched his mabari's ears. "What caused the bad blood between you?" he asked. At his brother's sharp look, he simply said, "What?"

Fergus sighed. "Apologies for my brother's ill-manners, Warden-Commander. He has always tended to speak without thinking."

I laughed aloud, but wondered how much of their conversation was rehearsed. Leliana had often told stories of how she manipulated people by having planted assistants direct a conversation. "No apology is needed. It would be hypocritical of me to take offence." I paused, gathering my thoughts. "But I suppose you need to understand my relationship with Eamon. It is pretty much defined by how we met. What do you know about the events at Redcliffe? About his poisoning, I mean."

"I've read the reports," Fergus said carefully.

Aedan smirked and shook his head. "Translated from noble-speak to common-tongue, that means 'give me your side of the story'."

Another glare from Fergus. I was really beginning to like Aedan. "Very well. After the debacle at Ostagar, Alistair, Morrigan, Thunder and I made our way north. We had nothing but our clothes, weapons and a trio of treaties, obligating the dwarves, elves and mages to assist the Wardens against a Blight." I sighed and shook my head. "We picked up Leliana and Sten in Lothering. Alistair insisted that we head to Redcliffe first. He believed that Eamon would be able to be of more assistance than our treaty-bound allies."

"But he had been poisoned."

I nodded. "Yep. Connor had accepted help from a demon to keep his father alive for the bargain price of his soul. In short, we got to Redcliffe, met Teagan, organised the militia, found lost children and rescued kittens stuck in trees."

"Hyperbole?" Aedan murmured.

I shrugged. "Sure. But the fact is that I met almost no one on my travels around Ferelden who could sort their own problems out, and none at all in Redcliffe. After a night of butchering the already-dead, Isolde appeared and begged Teagan to join her in the castle." I shook my head in disgust. "I swear all you need to persuade a Guerrin to jump off a cliff is a pretty girl and an Orlesian accent."

Both brothers made some move to conceal their expressions.

I grinned at them. "Anyway, we snuck into the castle, found the apostate who had been tutoring Eamon's son, discovered the boy was a mage, and that the entire mess could have been avoided had Isolde not tried to hide Connor's talents. We killed demons by the score, and finally subdued the one to whom Connor had bound himself. Killing the boy would have been the quickest and easiest method of saving everyone, but there was one other option - to send a mage into the Fade and battle the demon one-on-one there."

Fergus' eyes widened. "That sounds... dangerous."

"Well spotted," I replied with a nod and a chuckle. "There are a couple of methods of doing that. The apostate tutor was a blood mage, and he could send someone into the Fade, so long as he had someone to sacrifice. The other option was to head off to the Circle and petition the mages for assistance. And since I was heading there anyway, we decided to split up. Some of us would remain behind to make sure the demons didn't return while I took Alistair, Thunder and Leliana to the Circle tower."

"Connor owes you his life," Fergus remarked.

"True, though I came very close to choosing to simply kill him. It was a great risk to take, leaving him alone for even a few days. As it turned out, we were gone for a bit longer than that. The Circle needed... tending to. Don't ask me to relate that debacle. We don't have time between here and Highever for me to finish ranting about the stupidity I found there."

Fergus nodded. "As you wish."

"So, we returned to Redcliffe with mage allies, the First Enchanter and a bucket of lyrium for the ritual. I went into the Fade, found and killed the demon with the hold over Conner. Woke up to find Connor fine, but Eamon sill insensate. So, to cure him, we packed and left to track down Andraste's Ashes. It took weeks, we criss-crossed the entire country, fought and killed assassins, fanatical cultists and a sodding High Dragon just to get to the bloody temple built around the Ashes. We negotiated the Gauntlet protecting them. Took a pinch and came back to cure Eamon."

Aedan shifted into a different position. "That was remarkable for its lack of detail."

"It was. We'd be here all night if I told you everything. But the Ashes cured Eamon so three cheers for the Grey Wardens," I said sourly, punching my fist into the air with little enthusiasm.

"I presume that it was whatever happened when he woke up that caused the rift between you?"

I grunted an agreement. "We'd spent months getting him upright and functioning. All so we had a damned ally with resources. Eamon thanked us, declared us the Champions of Redcliffe, and suggested we get about enforcing the treaties." I snarled. "He was quite generous, but only with precious, yet oddly non-material rewards. So for all our effort, we got a pat on the back and assurances that he would set about doing what he needed to do. I was furious."

Fergus cleared his throat. "But he probably didn't have resources to spare at that point."

I shook my head. "He didn't. And given the state of his arling, I didn't expect it. I'd all but given up on the nobility as a whole. At that point of my life, I believed that a pile of dog shit would make a better noble."

Both men flushed. Aedan grumbled, "You never met our father."

"No, I didn't. From what I've heard, I'm poorer for it. But consider the nobles that I had met at that point. Cailan was a drooling imbecile. He had shattered any respect I had before he'd finished three sentences. He was a glory-seeking idiot so eager to be in a storybook battle that he sent hundreds of men to their deaths."

Fergus' eyes all but popped their sockets. "You can't say that about the King!" he wheezed.

"It's the truth," I said evenly, not prepared to censor my thoughts. "And sweetened words are for historians."

Aedan reached out and gripped his brother's shoulder. "Fergus, you were at Ostagar. I've spoken to veterans from the battle. Cailan was very cavalier with the lives of his troops. You must acknowledge that."

Fergus sighed. "I know. I just... speaking ill of the dead is not something with which I am entirely comfortable. And speaking ill of royalty is all but treason."

I sneered. "If someone other than Loghain had been brave enough to tell him that he was being an idiot, then maybe he wouldn't have led all those men and women to their deaths." I barked a laugh. "And that's another noble I had met. Loghain the regicide. He'd seemed impressive at first. A commoner raised to the nobility on the strength of his tactical and martial abilities. But the whole being-a-traitor knocked him down in my estimation somewhat. For all his faults, and being a regicide was a pretty big fault, he was an inspiring leader and a brilliant strategist; he walked away from Ostagar with every man loyal to him alive, and every man loyal to the king dead."

Fergus grimaced. "His Majesty doesn't like to speak of Loghain, but for all his sins, the Teyrn always put Ferelden first."

I nodded. "He did, and he died a Warden, and my brother. His final sacrifice ensured that Ferelden and all of Thedas was safe from the archdemon."

Aedan scratched his jaw. "Did you meet any other nobles before you formed these opinions?"

"Only the Guerrins. Isolde, Teagan and Eamon. Isolde is a sociopath. She did not even acknowledge the deaths her actions had caused. From what I've seen, she'd have willingly sacrificed every soul in Redcliffe to prevent her son from being removed to the Circle and counted it a bargain. The only time she'd even shown an inkling of compassion was when Teagan had been mentally dominated, and even then she had taken the coward's path, and refused to stand up to the demon."

"Teagan was possessed?" Aedan hissed, sitting bolt upright.

I shook my head. "No, dominated. Forced to do the demon's bidding. As for him, I thought he was an idiot. A brave idiot to be sure, but an idiot nonetheless. His grasp of duty was inconsistent; he'd stood with the citizens of Redcliffe, organising their resistance to the nocturnal assaults and lived their troubles with them. But he decided to abandon the city and surrender himself to the power that had taken control of the castle on the basis of a single woman's word, leaving them to fend for themselves."

Fergus looked very uncomfortable. "I'm beginning to see why you have such a poor opinion of the nobility. I just wish you'd met our parents, I think you'd have liked Mother. She would have loved you. She always enjoyed seeing a woman making a name for herself."

Aedan laughed. "Mother? Aldous would have worshipped her!"

"And I suppose that leaves Eamon," I said, not interested in the opinions of dead people, and wanting this conversation over and done with. "A man who had taken in his brother-in-law's bastard child and promptly sent him to live in a stable. Unacknowledged as Alistair was, he posed no threat to the security of Ferelden, yet Eamon purposely destroyed any sense of self-worth, ambition or leadership ability in him."

Fergus shook his head. "He was a threat to King Cailan's security, actually. History is replete with illegitimate royal children used as pawns in politics."

"Really?" I challenged. "What proof do you have that Alistair is Maric's bastard?"

"Well, Eamon said..."

I held up a hand. "There is just as much evidence to suggest that Eamon collected a blond, blue-eyed Chantry orphan and claimed that he was Maric's son. Maric never acknowledged him, after all; never even spoke of him. What it all boils down to is Eamon's word. And Teagan's I suppose. There is no hard evidence that Alistair is actually a Theirin."

"His Majesty is the spit and image of King Maric!" Aedan said hotly.

"True, and for what it's worth, I have no doubt he is Maric's son. Regardless, Eamon's treatment of him was atrocious. So there you have it. A list of all the nobles I'd met at that point in my life. Not one of them worth spit. And after all the effort we put into saving him, Eamon brushed us off with nothing more than a round of applause." I shook my head. "And then he had the gall to ask if I had anything to say before he passed judgement on Jowan."

Aedan frowned. "Jowan?"

"The poisoner," Fergus supplied. "A friend of the Warden-Commander's from the Circle, I believe."

I nodded. "My best friend. My brother in all but blood. Eamon was ready to have him executed, but asked my opinion. I had no idea why he was interested in what an elf, a commoner and a mage thought. But he was mightily put out when I demanded Jowan be released."

Fergus shook his head in wonder. "I can't believe you requested a maleficar be released."

I growled. "Into my custody! Not given freedom. I invoked the Right of Conscription, and both Alistair and Eamon looked set to explode." I let my mind wander back as I related the scene.

"Release him," I said.

Sounds of surprise came from every corner of the room. Alistair chief among them.

Eamon frowned at me. "I'm sorry, that I cannot do. He is a maleficar, and I will not be responsible for losing him upon the land. I shall surrender him to the Circle for judgement."

I shook my head. Jowan would be made Tranquil at the very least, and I couldn't let that happen. "No, you misunderstand me. I'm not asking you to set him free, I'm telling you to release him to me."

Several sharp intakes of breath echoed around the room at my statement. I suspect that it was the first time an elf had so much as spoken directly to Eamon, let along given him an order.

"I beg your-" he started.

I sliced a hand through the air. "I am invoking the Right of Conscription. Jowan is now a Grey Warden Recruit. He is my responsibility now."

"What?" Alistair exploded. "I have to be hearing things! You didn't just say that you want to recruit a maleficar, did you?"

"Yes," I confirmed with as much certainty as I could muster. "He has committed unforgivable crimes, but he will find absolution in a lifetime of killing darkspawn."

Eamon's voice all but quivered with suppressed rage. "I cannot condone this. You would risk the reputation of the Wardens for a maleficar?"

I shrugged. "The reputation of the Wardens could hardly be any worse at present, what with us being accused of killing the King. But I'm not interested in your approval, permission or even your acceptance. The Right overrules you in this. You have no choice."

"If you intend to spare his life out of some misguided act of friendship..."

I narrowed my eyes at Eamon. "You think I'm doing this because Jowan is my friend?" I spat. "We came here because Alistair said that you could help us. For some reason he thinks you are a capable leader," I waved my arm around the room, still blood-stained from the recent events, and the windows, that showed a critically injured city recovering. "Despite all the evidence to the contrary."

Alistair cleared his throat, but I continued my little speech, my voice rising in volume.

I pointed at Isolde. "In order to save your wife, we have gone to the Circle and destroyed all manner of demons there." I shifted my arm to Connor. "In order to save your son, I went into the Fade and faced down the damned Desire Demon that held Connor's soul." I levelled my digit at Eamon himself. "In order to save you, we sought out and discovered an artefact thought lost for centuries. In order to save you, Arl Eamon, we had to kill a bloody enormous dragon!

"We've wasted so much sodding time trying to get you on your feet and healthy that the darkspawn have destroyed Lothering and have made head-roads into the Bannorn. Thousands of people are dead or homeless. Our enemies have had time to organise and send out assassins after us." I gave a theatric scoff. "And what dos the help you offer consist of? Telling us that we should go and enforce the treaties. Funny, that is exactly what we could have been doing for the past three months instead of traipsing from here to Denerim to the Frostback Mountains and back again. And in return, you claim that you intend to go and do what you should have been doing anyway. Goodness, I can't imagine why I don't feel more grateful; I suppose you think I should be swooning with delight."

"Kathryn," Alistair hissed, grabbing my arm. "Be respectful! He's the Arl!"

I jerked my arm out of his grasp, too infuriated to listen. "And now, having given us exactly bugger-all, you presume to lecture me for wanting to make the most of the limited assets I have? Keep your platitudes, your cheers and your titles. None of them are any use to me. Jowan is of use to me, and he is now a Grey Warden Recruit. You will release him to me. Now!"

"Warden," Eamon growled softly, "I understand your frustrations. I truly wish I could do more to assist you in your endeavours. But at present, I simply cannot; I have neither the resources nor the political capital."

I leaned forward, dropping my voice to barely more than a whisper. "Yes, you see, I can accept that, Eamon," I said clearly. "I've seen what remains of Redcliffe, and I understand that you need to spend what you have to provide for them. I understand that you are limited in what you can do. What I can't accept is you trying to feed me a shit sandwich and expecting me to be happy about it!"

"How dare you!" cried Isolde, her face flushed with rage.

"Are they the only words you use when someone points out your idiocy?" I snapped at her.

"Enough!" Eamon roared. "Warden, while I am grateful for everything you have done for my family, I will not tolerate this continued disrespect."

I spun on my heel and stormed towards the door. "Then you have two choices. Either get used to it or start doing something worthy of respect. For now, have Jowan brought to the castle gates."

"Alistair, Eamon called as I exited the room. "A word?"

Fergus and Aedan looked at each other, their shared expressions indecipherable. "Uh, wow. I didn't realise that you and Eamon were at odds to that degree. You certainly didn't act like it in the palace," Fergus said. "What did he and His Majesty talk about?"

I grunted, settling into a more comfortable position against Thunder, who gave my hand a lick of support. "I don't know. Alistair never told me; he refused to. But he was unwavering in his support for me after that, so I suspect that Eamon tried to get him to take over leadership of the Wardens, and Alistair blew him off." I sighed deeply. "And honestly, finding the Ashes wasn't a total waste of time," I conceded. "On our way to Haven we made a side-stop in a nearby town and gathered a golem named Shale into our company. She was of enormous help in Orzammar and the Deep Roads."

"She?" Aedan asked.

I nodded. "She was originally Shayle of House Cadash, a dwarvern noblewoman. She volunteered to become a golem to protect the dwarves of her Thaig ages ago. She ended up in the hands of a mage named Wilhelm who retired to that village. I got a massive amount of magical research from Wilhelm's son. Stuff that would make the Circle's collective toes curl." I reached over to my sheathed sword and drew the blade. The silverite sword glittered in the firelight in a way non-magical metals simply could not. "And, in the caverns leading to the Temple, I found this."

"Your sword?"

I nodded. "This is Spellweaver. I can cast spells while wielding this beauty, just like a staff."

Fergus looked uncomfortable. "I'm not sure the world is ready for mages who carry swords." He coughed, suddenly red in the firelight. "Present company excepted, of course."

I grinned at him. "I'm not sure the mages are ready either. To start with, I thought the blade an oddity. Despite the obvious power in its enchantments, no non-mage can wield it; I've been told it squirms in your grip. I wanted to study it, to learn what it had been enchanted to do. It was only after I rediscovered an old form of magic that I could make use of it." I frowned. "All though, the mage who wielded it knew the old magic too. I suppose, like dragons, it isn't as extinct as first thought. It's possible that there's a small, isolated group of adherents who practice the form, passing it down, generation by generation."

"What does this 'form' do?"

I rapped my breastplate. "It channels my magic through my body, giving me strength enough to wear armour and wield blades. Other spells in the form enhance my combat ability and defence."

Fergus swallowed, shaking his head. "Mages who wear armour and wield swords. As an ally, it's something of a comfort, but as an enemy, it's terrifying."

I leaned over and patted him on the back of his hand. "Don't worry, Fergus. Just don't call me 'my lady' and I will never be your enemy." Aedan snickered at my jest, and scratched at Shadow's ears.

Shadow shook his head, dislodging his master's fingers, as he sat at Aedan's side. He seemed out of sorts.

"Are you all right, boy?"

Shadow whined.

Oddly, Thunder did too, patting my thigh with his paw. I frowned for a moment, a terrible thought forming. "Oh, bugger. Let me look at him."

"What is it?" Fergus asked as I rose to my feet.

"It could be the beginning stages of Blight sickness," I said, carefully examining Shadow's mouth and teeth. He snapped weakly at me, which earned him Aedan's admonishment.

I sighed. "It looks like it could be."

Aedan immediately looked worried. "Is it treatable?"

I nodded slowly. "Yes, with a flower that grows in the Korcari Wilds."

His shoulders slumped. "Damn. We'd never get there in time. Are you sure he's sick?"

I shook my head, but stood up. "No, I'm not certain. But he's showing some of the symptoms. It's better to be sure."

His head snapped around, and he glared at me. Apparently he thought I was advocating the worst. "What do you mean?"

I sighed. "I have some dried samples of the flower in my wagon. I don't know if it will work, but I can try to make a salve out of it. I think I have what I need to recreate it. It helped Thunder; hopefully, it can help Shadow."

It was a blow. The plant itself was rare enough, and the samples I managed to source in Denerim had been hideously expensive. It took more than half of what I had to make the salve. Aedan hovered irritatingly as I worked, but was very helpful in holding his dog steady as I applied the concoction in the same way the Kennel Master had back at Ostagar. Thunder whined in sympathy for his friend.

"We'll know by tomorrow, hopefully," I said, hoping to sooth Aedan's worries. "The day after at the latest."

In fact, it wasn't until the following night that Shadow began to cheer up. Two days after than he was back to his old self, much to Aedan's - and Fergus' - relief.

A day after Shadow resumed running around with Thunder, we reached the path that would take us to the Grey Warden fortress.

It took more than a little planning, not to mention some backbreaking effort, to successfully negotiate the tunnels leading to Soldier's Peak. The oxen initially refused to enter the tunnels, and a couple of sharp corners meant that the wagons emerged a little worse for wear, with deep scrapes on the corners and several damaged wheels.

Even so, it was almost worth the trouble to see the facial expressions of the Couslands on seeing the Peak for the first time.

"Maker's breath!" Aedan cursed, looking up at the massive fortress.

"Maker preserve me! That's Soldier's Peak?" wheezed Fergus, following his brother's gaze. "It's enormous!"

"Yep," I replied. "A hundred Grey Wardens held it against King Arland's entire army. They only lost the fight because they were starved out," I explained, neglecting to mention the two-century-old, demon-summoning incident. It would just worry them unduly.

Fergus looked up and back thoughtfully. "It will take quite some effort to make a passable road here. I can't see it becoming a trading post. As a defensive line however, I couldn't think of one much better. You could house an army within the fortress, safe from any invading force, and send sorties out at leisure."

"If the tunnels were paved flat, this would make a decent military post for couriers and patrols between Denerim and Highever," Aedan offered. "And I think King Arland had the right idea. The only way I'd ever try to take this place would be if it were empty. Our Nan could hold the fortress armed with just a kitchen knife and washing board."

Fergus shook his head. "But it makes no sense. King Arland defeated the Wardens and expelled them from Fereldan; why would he leave this empty?"

I winced. Explaining would be problematic, given Fergus' distrust of mages.

"Who would he have given it to?" Aedan asked pointedly. "Anyone gifted this place would have to be at least a Bann, and once they had their soldiers in place, they'd instantly be a threat to the kingdom. Anyone not fully loyal wouldn't be loyal enough, and in classic literature it's said that King Arland never fully trusted someone until they were dead."

Fergus nodded. "I suppose that's true. I can imagine a paranoid King preferring it to be left empty, if it wasn't the seat of his power. It still seems like a waste to me, though."

Pleased as I was with Aedan's unknowing explanation, I decided that mentioning that the Peak had not technically been empty for centuries could wait for a later time.

o_ooo000ooo_o

A/N: I know that Zevran and other voiced Antivans in the game have Spanish accents, but with the merchant families in power, I always saw Antiva as a sort of medieval Italy, with feuding city states. Thus the Antivan (Italian) Game, which is a very famous opening in chess. I just made up the Thedas versions of the names for the pieces.

I deviated quite substantially from canon with Jowan. I never understood why the Warden couldn't recruit him. I mean, beyond game design, of course. Of all the various characters you meet in the game, the unlucky Blood Mage just struck a chord with me. No matter what he did, he always made things worse. I reckon he'd have had the best banter pack.

Thanks to my reviewers - Isabeau of Greenlea, Aaron W, MB18932, SgtGinger, Jormund Elver and TheDawg - it is true that reviews are an addiction.