disclaimer type=standard

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

/disclaimer

o_ooo000ooo_o

Cassandra crossed her arms, her expression hard and her eyes cold. "So, you at least suspected that Anders had a hand in the murder of the templars assigned to escort him back to the Circle."

Kathryn raised an eyebrow. "No, actually, I did not. I still don't. At worst, he could only be accused of not assisting them while they were attacked by darkspawn. And only the most rabid Chantry sycophant could claim that was unjustified."

The Seeker rubbed at her forehead, leaving light-coloured scratches from her gauntlets. As much as the situation galled her, this was not a point upon which she wished to become stuck. "Be that as it may, you still recruited him away from the legal authorities."

"Duncan was recruited out of the hangman's noose, after committing murder. Once I invoked the Right, as was my right, those templars were no longer the 'legal authorities', Cassandra. You know that."

She sighed. "That is true, at least. It was still a decision that wreaked untold devastation across Thedas."

Kathryn shook her head. "No. It wasn't. That decision didn't happen until later."

Cassandra blinked, somewhat surprised at the statement. "What?"

Emerald eyes bored into her own. "Exactly what I said. It wasn't the decision to recruit Anders into the Wardens that led to him destroying the Kirkwall Chantry. Just as it wasn't Duncan's decision to recruit me that led me to invade Orlais. It was Anders' decision to leave the Wardens that led to the Mage-Templar War."

The Seeker paused. To her shame, she had not considered what had caused the murdering mage to leave the protection of the Grey Wardens. She had been focused on the events that had led to his recruitment instead. "What did cause him to leave? Some falling out?"

Kathryn sighed deeply, and the Seeker was shocked to see her eyes glitter with unshed tears. "In a manner of speaking. It was a... mistake of mine. Well, a compound mistake, at any rate."

"Compound? What do you mean by that?"

"I mean," the mage snapped, "that it was a mistake of two parts. I made the first part a day or so after Anders' Joining."

o_ooo000ooo_o

The captain of Alistair's entourage unilaterally decided that His Majesty should not be housed in a Keep where darkspawn were still nearby, so insisted on continuing onto Amaranthine, despite the fact that they had already travelled throughout the night. My old friend shrugged and mouthed 'the man's a tyrant', but accepted his opinion.

I bid farewell to Alistair and his entourage and ventured back into the Keep, my new companions at my side. The sensation of nearby darkspawn still scrapped my nerves raw, which put me in a bad mood.

"Are you a Warden, Varel?" I demanded of the man.

He looked taken aback. "Goodness no, Commander."

"Then tell me why you seem to have some knowledge of our rituals. More than you should."

He lowered his voice. "Kristoff and the other Orlesian Wardens felt that, given the dangers involving the Joining, it would be better to have a Ferelden-born preside over them. There is still a great level of distrust directed towards them for their nationality, you see. Even from the recruits. Kristoff felt that the death of any recruit would cause significant trouble if it had been an Orlesian that offered the cup. As I was known to every volunteer, I was the obvious choice. I would have volunteered myself, had I been twenty years younger."

I grunted, pleased that there was at least a defensible reason for spilling secrets, but still annoyed that it had been done without my approval. "Fine. Let's just get this done. I'll prepare the potion. You get our candidates ready. I want them to Join in this order. Oghren, Anders, and then Mhairi."

He nodded. "As you wish, Commander. Is there any reason for the order of the Joining?"

I looked up at him. "Yes. Oghren already has a resistance to darkspawn taint; he has fought them for years - long before I met him. He's practically a Warden already. Anders is a mage, and I have been reliably informed that mages have a better survival rate." I took a deep breath as memories of my own Joining flooded back. "I just... I want to have those more likely to survive go first."

He frowned. "And young Ser Mhairi last? She has been the very model of competent, loyal efficiency."

I nodded. "I... just have a bad feeling about her." She seemed to be in it for the glory, more than anything else.

He took a deep breath and let it out. "I see. It shall be as you say, Commander. I pray that you are wrong on that last count."

I waved him away, and had a servant lead me through the Keep to my assigned room. I began to gather the necessary ingredients for the ritual. My fingers lingered over the book with the pressed swamp flowers. Should I? Messing about with the recipe could well have unpredictable side effects. The last time I saw him, Avernus said that he would study any flowers I sent to him as a matter of urgency, but I had nothing really to go on until then. He probably didn't even have the samples I'd sent him yet.

I shook my head, it wasn't worth the risk. But there was a risk-free possibility. I gathered some lyrium and my vial of archdemon blood. The supply of fresh darkspawn blood was not an issue. I'd have to do it properly this time. I got out several of Avernus' books.

It took me longer than the recipe expected. I double checked each step, paranoid that I'd poison my very first recruits. Still, I eventually had a full goblet of the hideous concoction. From Avernus' other recipes, I prepared several vials of the other alchemical potion. They needed to be blasted with lightning for a long time before they'd be ready for consumption, however. And I didn't have the time right now.

Lastly, I took a small crucible, filled it with water, and set it to boiling with a sustained flare of fire magic. In it, I placed a single dried, pressed flower. The water slowly grew cloudy as the compounds within the plant leeched into the hot water. After a few minutes, I poured the mixture through a sieve into a cup. There was enough for a half-dozen small mouthfuls.

I took up the goblet of blood and the cup of herbal mixture, and headed down to the main hall. Varel had assembled the three recruits, and was patiently waiting for me to return.

I handed him the goblet, and stood straight. "Tonight, you all become Grey Wardens. The ritual is dangerous, I will not lie. But before we begin, I would invite you all to share a sip of this, for luck." With that, I took a sip of the hot, bitter liquid.

Varel looked shocked, but said nothing as the cup was passed around. He looked even more surprised when I motioned that he should take a sip himself. Once the cup had made a complete circuit, I placed it on the table behind me and said, "There are ritual words that are spoken before each Joining. They have been spoken from the very first."

I nodded to Varel, and drew a deep breath. "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be foresworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."

Varel stepped forward, goblet extended in his arms, and he spoke formally. "From this moment forth, Oghren, you are a Grey Warden."

Oghren frowned darkly as he accepted the silver goblet. He looked down at it; not at the unholy contents, but at the goblet itself. "What's this, the sampler size? Are you trying to say something about my height? Huh?"

Varel swallowed and took a half step back from the dwarf's palpable anger, glancing at me for support. "Er... this is the goblet we've always used."

"Really? Bleagh!" He raised the goblet to his lips and swallowed easily. He handed it back and gave a resounding belch. Smacking his lips a couple of times as though relishing the taste, he said, "Hmm, not bad," and ever-so-slowly fell over backwards. There was no head wobble or buckling of knees either; he went from on his feet to on his back in one glorious, rigid-bodied sweep, bouncing only slightly on the stone floor.

Varel looked over at me. "Maker help us all."

I shrugged wordlessly, and turned back to look my friend over. His eyes where white, and he was snoring, rather than choking. He'd live. I felt a huge weight vanish from around my heart. With Oghren at my side, I felt I could quite happily take on an archdemon. We'd done it before, after all.

Varel moved a half step over and handed the goblet to Anders, who glanced between dwarf and cup, his eyes wide. "From this moment forth, Anders, you are a Grey Warden."

The healer tilted the goblet slightly and looked down into the contents with horror etched on his face. "So we need to drink darkspawn blood? That's it?"

Varel nodded. "That is it, yes."

With deliberate cheerfulness, the handsome mage said, "Well all right, but if I wake up two weeks from now on a ship bound for Rivain in nothing but my smallclothes and a tattoo on my forehead, I'm blaming you."

I couldn't help but smile at his humour-backed courage. With those words, he raised the cup high, closed his eyes and drank deeply. Varel reached out to grab the goblet before Anders fell, his head wavering slightly. He collapsed backwards with barely a sigh.

"He lives, Commander, and will awaken in time."

I sighed deeply, letting out some more tension. Anders' survival pleased me far more than I showed.

Varel moved over to Mhairi, and handed her the silver goblet. "From this moment forth, Mhairi, you are a Grey Warden."

"I have awaited this moment," she said fervently, drinking quickly and eagerly.

I closed my eyes as she began choking, almost exactly the same way Daveth had. The flower tea hadn't helped her. "Damn," I said under my breath. I was thankful that I had determined the order in which the recruits would Join, but it was a small comfort. I wouldn't wish the events of my Joining upon anyone.

"I am sorry, Mhairi. May the Maker watch over you now," Varel finished, his voice heavy with sadness. Gently, he reached out and closed Mhairi's eyelids, and smoothed her hair.

He rose and turned to face me. "A success, Commander. Two out of three is far better than Kristoff managed."

I nodded, not feeling particularly successful. "Can you please organise a funeral with full honours for Mhairi? She deserves to be remembered for her bravery." At least another body on the pyre wouldn't cause comment. With all the recent deaths, there were many cremations in progress. Even the air inside the Keep was touched by the scent of scorched flesh.

"Of course, Commander."

Varel went to a side door, opened it and gave a few orders to someone on the other side in a low voice. I grabbed a couple of blankets and covered the two newest Wardens. I then grabbed a chair, and began my vigil.

I sat down at the High Table with Varel, and sighed deeply. It had been a shit of a day.

Disposing of Mhairi's remains had been painful, for all that I found the woman's rigid demeanour mildly annoying. I'd sat with Oghren and Anders as they struggled with the Grey Warden welcome pack of nightmares, nausea and ravenous hunger. Oghren woke first, freaking out like a little girl. Once I explained the concept of 'dreams' to him, he calmed somewhat, and was happy to note that I was the only witness to his momentary loss of control. Anders woke soon after, pale and shaken.

I had run through the checklist of changes they'd have to deal with. Neither had expressed much dismay in their reduced chances of fathering children, at least not when offset by the knowledge that Grey Warden stamina added a whole new meaning to the phrase, 'all night long'. Likewise, neither seemed particularly bothered by their suddenly limited lifespan. Both of them had expected to die long before they grew old, simply due to the dangers of their occupations.

Against the usual Grey Warden protocol, I also laid out what an archdemon was, and how they were killed. By protocol, Junior Grey Wardens were not burdened with that information until they rose to the rank of Warden - the reason Alistair had no clue despite technically being the Senior Warden in Ferelden. But with so few Wardens in Ferelden, I'd decided to ignore that. Oghren had blanched a little as realisation struck. He'd been present when Loghain had jammed his blade under the archdemon's jaw and into its brain. Up until then, he'd assumed that the shockwave from the explosion was responsible for killing the great man.

With the kitchen more or less back in action, I'd stuffed them to bursting with hot food and cold ale, and sent them off to bed.

Now, sitting at a table with my seneschal, I suddenly found myself bone-weary.

"Commander, I realise that it is not the best time, but there are certain people that you need to meet."

I nodded, and started filling my plate. "Can they wait?"

He looked vaguely apologetic. "Ordinarily you would have been introduced before assuming your duties. However, circumstances have prevented this."

I started eating, but nodded my assent.

Varel motioned to a servant, who exited through a side door. A few minutes later, two arguing figures entered the main hall, bickering like siblings. They stopped abruptly at Varel's pointed clearing of the throat, and bowed to me.

Mistress Woolsey was introduced as my treasurer. She had been appointed by the First Warden himself, apparently on the assumption that people who've never had formal education in financial affairs were unable to contain their thieving impulses. As someone who'd robbed the old Arl Howe of a number of silver ingots that he'd embezzled, I was of the opinion that accountancy training merely meant that you could steal with greater efficiency. She took quite some offence when I voiced that view.

Garavel was a guard promoted to Captain early in his career presumably on the basis of availability rather than merit. Howe had stripped the Vigil's garrison of every man personally loyal to him for his military endeavours in Highever, leaving the inexperienced and unproven behind. Garavel had been both, from what I could infer. While he seemed to be out of his depth in his role, there was no doubt he was doing his best. Whether it would be good enough was another problem.

From them I learned that things in Amaranthine were particularly grim. Tax revenues were almost non-existent due to the woeful state of the local economy. A mixture of cessation of trade, rampant banditry and reduced military strength. Without coin to pay for soldiers, bandits were going to be preventing merchants from restocking, which would lower tax revenues even more. Without soldiers, I couldn't protect my lands and the trade routes.

Without those trade routes, there was no way to provision the army. Without an army to keep order, there was no taxes to pay for the provisioning. It was a major headache all round.

Garavel had some leads for me on the darkspawn attacks, and Woolsey some requests of her own. I added them to my rapidly expanding list of stuff that needed to get done.

And my vassals would be arriving shortly to swear allegiance and to make even more demands of me.

Sodding wonderful.

"Anything else?" I asked, exasperation colouring my tone and making me waspish.

Garavel winced. "There is a young man in custody. He broke into the Keep a few nights ago and it took four Wardens to capture and subdue him."

Even through my dark mood, I was impressed. "Four Wardens?"

"Yes, Commander. He has since refused to speak. Should you wish it, I shall take care of the problem."

I shook my head. There had been enough of people 'taking care' of things that were my responsibility. "No, I'll see to him myself. At least there will be something I can accomplish today."

The lean young man rose to his feet with economy of movement, displaying a similar sort of grace to Aedan, but with a dangerous malevolence more akin to Zevran. Just from watching him stand and take a few steps, I would well believe he could take on four Wardens. He paced like a predator. "If it isn't the great hero, conqueror of the Blight and vanquisher of all evil. Aren't you supposed to be ten feet tall? With lightning bolts shooting out of your eyes?" he asked sarcastically.

"Hands," I clarified. "I shoot lightning from my hands. Attempting to shoot it from your eyes would no doubt result in your eyeballs exploding. As organs, they are ill-suited to channelling the sort of power required."

The man snorted at my response. I almost smiled. That sounded exactly like a sound I'd make. "Somehow I just thought that my father's murderer would be... more impressive."

Ah, I killed his dad. A personal, rather than a ideological hatred then. Well, I could deal with that. I didn't speak, I simply looked him over for any familial clues. His face didn't really strike a chord in my memory, but many men didn't look like their fathers. The air of menace about him was certainly familiar, however. A faint suspicion formed.

Once he realised I wasn't going to answer him, he spat out, "I am Nathaniel Howe. My family owned these lands until you showed up. Do you even remember my father?" he demanded.

I nodded slowly. Now that he mentioned it, he did favour his father in his intensity, even if his features were not as sharp. "Ah, I see. I do, in fact, remember your father, but I'm afraid your information is wrong. It wasn't me who killed him. Well, he didn't die at my hand, if you want to be precise."

He didn't appear to believe me. "Oh? That's not what everyone I've spoken to has said. They all say that the," his voice morphed into a parody of vapid adoration, "Hero of Ferelden," he finished his parody with a glare, "killed Arl Rendon Howe. Did you just claim to have killed him for more adoration then?"

I found myself smiling at his caustic sarcasm. I rather liked it. "No. I was certainly there when he died. But it was Alistair who delivered the mortal blow. He wasn't the King then, of course, but given how popular he is," I tapped the metal bars, "I can't imagine you'd get such luxurious quarters if you tried to assassinate him."

Howe snarled at me, pushing his face close to mine, his breath hot on my face in the chilly stone jail. "My father served the Hero of River Dane and fought against the Orlesians! Yet our family lost everything!"

I leaned closer too and snorted. "Yeah, a lot of people have a similar attitude." I put on a whiny, pinched-nose voice and recited, "My father fought on the winning side, therefore I should get to live a life of luxury." Settling back to my normal, but still awful voice, I continued, "Sorry, but I've met nobles who couldn't find their own dicks with an anatomical chart and an hour's worth of instruction from a dockside whore. The whole entitled attitude based on what dear old daddy did decades ago doesn't impress me."

Rendon Howe's son looked at me for a moment before a small smile touched his lips. He gave a soft sound of agreement. "That I can understand; most of my childhood contemporaries are useless fops, suited only to be ignored." He sighed, reached out and gripped the bars. "I came here... I thought I was going to try to kill you. To lay a trap for you. But then I realised I just wanted to reclaim some of my family's things. It's all I have left."

I stroked my chin and considered the young man for a moment. He seemed to be genuine, but close association with a bard and an assassin tends to make you a touch wary, even when you were already so cynical that it made a Sergeant of the Denerim City Watch appear optimistic in comparison. "Just how much do you know about your father? What he did during the last year and a half of his life, I mean."

Howe looked down at me unconcerned at my question. "If you're asking whether I knew what he was up to, the answer is no. I was squired in the Free Marches. Look, I know you're a hero. You fought a war and you won, and to the victor go the spoils, right? Whatever my father did, however, shouldn't harm my whole family. The Howes are pariahs now, those of us left."

He was about to say more, but I raised a hand to forestall it. "If I were you, I'd find out what my father actually did while you were away. Just a word to the wise."

He shrugged. "Well, it hardly matters now, does it? It's all thanks to you. And now you get to decide my fate. Ironic, isn't it?"

"Do you really hate me so much?" I asked softly.

He didn't answer directly. "The darkspawn are a menace. If it weren't for the Blight, maybe my father would never have... done what he did."

I forbade to comment. If it weren't for the Blight, Howe still would not have come close to succeeding. I would put every coin I had ever owned on Aedan or Fergus ending his existence.

"But I can't do anything about them, can I?" Howe continued. "There's just you and the Grey Wardens, here in my home."

I didn't mention that he was almost exactly wrong about the first thing. "I understand we had trouble capturing you."

Oddly, instead of being proud of the fact, he simply shrugged and accepted it. "I am not without skills. My time abroad wasn't spent chasing skirts and drinking wine."

I took a breath. Another potentially competent noble? Had I been wrong about them? Well, I wasn't about to let this one get away. "What skills are those, exactly?"

He looked at me as though I was an imbecile. "Hunting. Scouting. Poisons. Why? What do you care?"

Excellent. Without Zevran's presence, my supplies of potent poisons and bombs were running low. "What will you do if I let you go?" I asked, wanting more of a measure of this man's motivations.

The question surprised him. "If you let me go? I... don't know. I only came back to Ferelden a month ago." He narrowed his eyes, and appeared to come to the conclusion that I was toying with him. "If you let me go, I'll probably come back here. You might not catch me next time."

Well, he was certainly at the top of the class when they were covering courage. But he was probably away sick the day they discussed subtlety. "Perhaps you should work to redeem your name," I offered.

He snorted. "You're right," he said with bright irony. "I'll go join Queen Anora's service immediately. She'll certainly want another Howe around!"

Honours-level sarcasm, I noted. Very nice. "Your family only has itself to blame for its troubles," I said, though it wasn't exactly true. The Howes only had old Rendon to blame, who had taken everything he owned, everything he could borrow and everything he could steal, and bet it all against the Wardens.

"The Howes served Ferelden for twelve generations. My ancestors served under King Calenhad! And now, it's all lost. So go ahead and do what your going to do."

A fatalism mastery, too. Excellent. "I've decided what do to with you," I said, wondering how he'd take it.

"Already? Good," he snapped, and deliberately turned his back on me.

I gestured over my shoulder. The prison guard approached. "Yes, Commander?"

"Go and fetch Varel, please," I said, my eyes still on Howe's son.

"At once, Commander."

Howe again took his place on the prison cell floor, and looked up at me, supremely unconcerned at his predicament. We stared into each other's eyes for long minutes, neither willing to look away first.

Varel strode into the small prison, interrupting our silent contest. "I see you've spoken to our guest. Quite the handful, isn't he? Have you decided what's to be done with him?"

Hadn't Varel been seneschal at the Keep for a while? Did he not recognise him? "Did you know this was Nathaniel Howe?"

Apparently not. "A Howe?" Varel said, his eyebrows rising in surprise. "It figures that they would turn up again. The Howes are implacable enemies, Commander."

I turned to look at Howe. No, at Nathaniel. Oddly, he seemed quite pleased at being described as 'implacable'. "I wish to invoke the Right of Conscription," I said easily.

That went down about as well as you'd expect.

"You what?" Nathaniel exploded.

"I'm sorry, Commander," Varel said carefully. "the Right of Conscription? On the prisoner?"

Nathaniel hadn't finished. "No! Absolutely not! Hang me, first!"

I stared at him expressionless and immovable. "Did I say I was giving you a choice?"

He gaped at me, utterly stunned. "You really want a Howe as a Grey Warden? You are a very strange woman."

I snorted, mimicking him. "You don't know the half of it."

He leaned back, still looking at me as though I had just turned bright blue. "I can't decide if this is a vote of confidence or punishment."

"It simply is," I stated. "I have no ulterior motive. What you make of this opportunity is up to you. If you truly wish to redeem your family name, then consider it a vote of confidence. If you simply can't or won't let go of your hate for me, then being a Warden will punish you far more than I ever could."

Varel recovered from his momentary surprise. "An... interesting decision, Commander." He turned to the guard and nodded at him to release Nathaniel. "Come with me, ser. We'll see if you survive the Joining."

Nathaniel paused, still looking at me as the door to the cell was opened. "Why though," he asked. "Why give me this chance?"

"Have you ever met a Qunari?" I asked him.

He blinked at the apparent non-sequitur. "Yes. Once, in Starkhaven."

I nodded. "Their Qun is an interesting philosophy. Completely screwed up in some respects, but interesting nonetheless. There are a few parts that are worth emulating. They don't believe in wasting anything. Except mages, of course, but that's not relevant."

He appeared confused. As did Varel. "What are you talking about?"

"You have no direction in life. And you admit that you have no real prospects. I can offer you both in return for skills that the Ferelden Grey Wardens currently lack. See? No waste."

He appeared to consider this as we left the prison and ascended the steps into the Keep itself. "You'd really offer a place at your side to someone who admitted to trying to kill you?" he asked.

I didn't answer directly. I just glanced at Varel. "I'll get the ritual ready. Prepare him for the Joining." I turned back to Nathaniel. "One of my Wardens in a dwarf called Oghren. Ask him to tell you about Zevran."

It was easier this time to brew the Joining potion. There was a definite aura of... completeness... when it was done. I took the chalise and another small amount of the flower extract and made my way down the stairs to the main hall. Oghren and Anders were already in attendance.

I passed the goblet to Varel and turned to Nathaniel. "Tonight, you become a Grey Warden. First though, a toast for luck." I sipped the hot liquid, and passed it around the group. Nathaniel scowled, but sipped the concoction. "There are ritual words spoken at each Joining. They have been spoken from the first." I turned to face Anders. "Anders, as the most junior Warden present, would you do the honours?"

He seemed surprised, but readily agreed. He turned to face Nathaniel and, at my nod, began speaking. "Join us, brother. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be foresworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."

Varel stepped forward, holding the chalise in two hands. "From this moment forth, Nathaniel Howe, you are a Grey Warden."

Nathaniel grasped the goblet without any hesitation. As I'd noted before, he certainly didn't lack courage. He sucked in a short breath through his teeth and muttered, "The moment of truth." He drank without ceremony.

For a half second, I wondered if my feelings were wrong. Then, his eyes rolled back, and he toppled over.

Varel sounded surprised. "The Howe is stronger than I expected. For better or worse, he will live."

Oghren slapped me on the back. "Nice going, Kat."

I covered Nathaniel with a blanket under Varel's gaze. "Commander, if I may, what is the concoction that you have us drink before the Joining? It was not part of the ritual Kristoff's Wardens conducted."

I considered what I should tell him. "It's my own little addition, Varel. I'm hoping that it will improve a recruit's chances."

"Ah, I see. Well, your success so far shows that it likely works to some degree. Congratulations once again, Commander."

Despite my fatigue, I sat vigil over Nathaniel until he woke, disoriented, hungry and angry. He was not pleased that he was unlikely to become a father, though it seemed to be an 'in principle' thing rather than the ruination of any particular plans. I suppose not being able to father heirs is a big deal for a noble. The reduced life span was not an issue, nor the constant hunger or nightmares. Nathaniel proved to be even more couragous than I believed.

Anders proved that he had quite the affinity for the lightning element of primal magic. Under my direction he sent powerful and sustained shocking blasts at the alchemical potions I'd prepared while I sat with our newest Warden. The next morning, each of the three downed the enhanced potion.

After the momentary agony, all three stood up straighter and with almost identical expressions of surprised enthusiasm. Oghren even bounced a little on his toes. "This is how you feel since we took the Peak?" he asked me.

"Yup."

He smashed his hands together. "Sodding elf, keeping this to yourself. Come on! Let's go pound some darkspawn!"

With the three newly made (and newly enhanced) Wardens in tow, I stepped out of the main Keep to survey my new domain.

It was pretty stuffed.

There was good news to offset the bad though. I discovered that Alistair had retained Herron and Wade to assist with outfitting and stocking Vigil's Keep with arms and armour. So while I would be well placed for exceptional and inspired smithing, we were also just as well placed for world-class bitching and moaning. A one-all draw, in my opinion.

Dworkin's use of his explosives during the battle had unsettled some of the foundations, and collapsed some of the tunnels beneath the keep. The only bright spot was the fact that the rockfall had revealed a rather impressive vein of veridium ore directly under the Keep. There was not enough to justify turning the tunnels into a proper mine, but there was plenty for Wade to use to outfit the men-at-arms assigned to the Keep.

We cleared what darkspawn remained on this side of the rockfalls, and Thunder found a new friend. Nathaniel's governess had a mabari companion, which placed her rather highly in my opinion. But, the governess had succumbed to the taint after sending her hound for help, and we were obliged to end her life. We found some letters from Delilah to her beau, which I passed to her brother. Nathaniel expression at the gesture was a study of contrasts - he was beginning to warm to me, or at least have fewer thoughts of putting an arrow into my back during the fighting.

Our implacable progress through the lingering darkspawn drew more than a little comment from the troops, with one sergeant expressing amazement at our progress. Once the last of the tainted men and darkspawn had been culled, we left the tunnels with orders to set some men to clear them.

On travelling back upstairs through the ranks of soldiers, it was palatable how much morale had increased with that quite simple victory. I suppose the idea of being billeted with people who could blitz through odds of twenty-to-one and emerge unscathed was universally positive.

We emerged from the tunnels into the basement, where the governess' mabari still lay in misery. Thunder growled and barked a couple of times, ordering the apathetic hound up. The bitch followed along with us back out into the cold morning drizzle. I'd have probably wanted to stay in the reasonably warm and dry basement myself. I nodded to Thunder's questioning whine, and he herded the mabari away towards the kitchens.

"That dog is weird," Anders said, watching the pair wander away.

"In what way?" I asked, a bit defensively.

He just looked at me. "The way it acts like a person, instead of, oh I don't know... a dog," he said in a mocking tone.

I gave Thunder's retreating form a thoughtful glance. Ever since he'd fought with me on top of Fort Drakon, he had certainly developed a few more quirky personality traits. Perhaps it was the fact that he was a Warden too. We were certainly a quirky bunch.

We left Thunder and his new friend and audited the rest of the grounds.

Nathaniel was quite helpful, pointing out weak points in the walls, and introducing me to his family retainers. Through one, the grounds-keeper, Nathaniel discovered that his sister was actually alive and well, though living in much reduced circumstances. It took only an agreement for us to look her up when we visited Amaranthine for him to give me his first smile.

Oghren recognised the tactic, and grinned at me behind Nathaniel's back, before butting in with a leading question about his parentage. Apparently Fergus had mentioned to the dwarf that he doubted Nathaniel would return to Ferelden at all. Oghren finished by declaring his respect for the young Howe's courage in coming back to face what would only be a frosty reception, and stated emphatically that he had his back.

Nathaniel was rather bemused at that. But having seen Oghren in action, also more than a little pleased.

It was at that point, calamity to end all calamities, that we came across a demon.

o_ooo000ooo_o

Cassandra jerked back, surprise etched on her features. "A demon? Really? I have heard no reports of any such manifestation at Vigil's Keep!"

Kathryn leaned forward, her eyes burning bright with intensity. "It wasn't a demon in a meta-physical sense. You won't find its characteristics documented in some dry, dusty tome. This was no manefestation of rage, hunger, sloth, desire or even pride." She raised a hand, pinching her thumb and forefinger into a circle, holding it up in front of Cassandra's face. "This was an artfully camoflaged, chaos-infused, incarnation of Pure Evil."

Cassandra swallowed audibly. "Truly?"

Kathryn nodded, her expression completely serious. "If you took every damned demon in the entire Fade, every base thought, every bad dream, even the entire Black City itself, and somehow distilled their essence into one single entity, it wouldn't come close to the horror we discovered."

Cassandra paled at the thought. "Maker preserve us. What did you find?"

o_ooo000ooo_o

"Oh! Look at the cute little kitty!" Anders gushed.

o_ooo000ooo_o

AN: Thanks to my reviewers - MB18932, Hydroplatypus, Alifangirl21, SgtGinger, Nightbrainzz, Arsinoe de Blassenville and ShyWriter413 - I'm glad you're all enjoying my fic.

SgtGinger, your response option is turned off, I couldn't respond. I'm glad it only took three minutes.

Short chapter this time (6.5k words), but a quick turnaround. Next up, Amaranthine and Rylock's (brief) return.