disclaimer type=standard

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

/disclaimer

o_ooo000ooo_o

Cassandra eyed the Warden carefully. "In one afternoon, you and three other Grey Wardens-"

"Four. Thunder too."

"-four, fine. In one afternoon, you and four other Grey Wardens killed a high dragon, the Architect and the Mother?"

"Is that a problem?"

With a sigh, the Seeker shook her head. "No. It's just that from all I've heard and read of your accomplishments, it does not approach the reality. The lecture Anders gave the Ferelden Circle of Magi on the Architect indicated that the powers it commanded were on a par with the ancient Magisters of Tevinter. The possibility of a return of those powers caused some disquiet in the Chantry, but you and a handful of your allies killed him easily."

Kathryn snorted. "Easily? You call that easy?"

"You all survived, did you not?"

The elf raised a hand to her face and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Cassandra, we were a couple of lyrium potions away from being slaughtered. Had I decided to replace three of them in my bandoleer with bombs or healing salves, we wouldn't be having this conversation. We were outmatched, poorly positioned, and ill-equipped to take on such a being."

o_ooo000ooo_o

I stepped out of the ruined building ahead of my Wardens, taking deliberate deep breaths in the early evening air in an effort to get my hands to stop trembling. With the deaths of both the Mother and the Architect, we'd done our duty as Grey Wardens. It was like my fate was once more my own affair.

The air around Drake's Fall seemed clearer, crisper – though probably not for much longer, what with the nearby dragon corpse beginning the long, drawn out process of decomposition. But even flushed with lyrium as I was, and even the thought of all the value that could be extracted from the corpse, I could not see the task of dressing the carcass out as anything other than a tedious chore.

Sigrun, not surprisingly, was rather more enthusiastic.

"Can I have that dragon's skull mounted in my room at the Vigil?" she blurted, jumping from one foot to the other. "Pleasepleaseplease?"

I couldn't help but smile at her exuberance, remembering a time that I was like that – just after Duncan had saved me from Greagoir's retribution at the Circle. "You'd have to get rid of your bed. It won't fit otherwise."

Such a sacrifice did not seem too daunting to the feisty dwarf warrior. "I don't care. I'll cut my mattress to fit and I'll sleep in its mouth. Not even King Bhelen would have such a bed!"

Velanna winced and rolled her eyes at the duster's antics, but I just shrugged. "I've seen the room Bhelen sleeps in. You'd be absolutely right; his bed is pretty boring. We'll need to bring some wagons here and some equipment to dress and strip the body; it might take a few trips. But sure – the skull is your trophy."

She squealed and bounded forward, giving me a rib-creaking hug. "You run the best outfit!"

Oghren's gravelly voice added its approval. "Aye, I'll drink to that," he said, raising an earthenware jug to his lips.

Velanna looked a bit abashed, but nodded. "I must agree. You have been most welcoming and accommodating." Thunder shimmied under her hand, pressing the back of his head against her fingers. He looked imploringly up at her and gave her a small wag of his tail and a bark of encouragement. "Your hound however, leaves much to be desired," she finished disdainfully, deliberately pulling her hand away. "Leave me be, you flee-ridden monstrosity."

Thunder, who had been on the receiving end of both Morrigan's public chastisement and numerous private treats, had no problem with someone insulting him if it meant that he'd get ear scratches and jerky bits when no one was looking.

I let out a breath, and despite my dizziness and disorientation, a smile flooded my face. We'd done it. We'd killed both the Mother and Architect, and had not lost a single Warden. Hopefully, I added mentally, thinking about those at Vigil's Keep. "Thank you. All of you. You each performed beyond my expectations. But we should get back to the Vigil. Hopefully, there are still darkspawn left for us to kill."

Oghren grinned at me. "A woman after my own heart."

Darkness gathered in my vision.

Consciousness returned slowly. It took some time for me to remember that there was a 'me'. I let out a groan and tried raising a hand to my head. I could barely move.

"Kat?" a vaguely familiar voice grumbled. "Hey! Velanna! She's awake!"

I winced at the noise, and tried opening my eyes. A blurry form appeared in front of me, looking as though it was lying across the sky.

Wait? Was I lying down?

"Kathryn? Here. Drink this."

Something was pressed against my lips, and I felt a hand behind my neck pull me forward. I sipped from the vial.

"Good. Can you sit?"

I breathed an affirmative-sounding grunt, and tried my best. It took some effort, but I managed to sit straight with only slight assistance. "Wha' happ'n'd?" I whispered.

"You fainted," a worried voice said. I took a second or two to remember the name that went with it. Sigrun.

"Did no'," I retorted. "I don' fain'. 'ma Grey Ward'n."

A bossy, no nonsense voice cut in. "Fine. You passed out. How much lyrium did you drink?"

Velanna, my memory supplied. "Dunno, lots?" I replied.

"The whites of your eyes are blue, Kathryn. And your tears are glowing faintly. How much did you drink?"

I frowned, trying to remember. My potion bandoleer held thirty-two vials, and I normally had twenty-four lyrium potions in it. I reached down and ran a finger around the soft leather, trying to count the empty slots. I gave up after two failed attempts and tried counting only the occupied slots.

Damn. Only two left. Must have had…

"Tw-twenty-two."

A deep, rough voice swore. That voice I knew. Oghren. "Twenty-two? Stones, you've got stones, Kat."

"Twenty-two potions can be dangerous, but they should not have had such an impact," Velanna insisted. "She is practically perspiring lyrium!"

Oghren snorted. "Not the piddly little buggers you make from a pinch of dust. Kat brews her own from a recipe we found at the Keep. Bloody dangerous stuff if you ask me. She just drank enough juice to run their bloody Circle for a year." He fumbled at my belt. "Here, there's a couple left in her belt. Have a sniff."

Even as blurry as she was, I could see her recoil from the concentrated bouquet. She swore in Elvish. "You drank twenty-two of those?" she demanded.

Mentally, I was in no condition to defend myself. "Maybe?" I offered.

Velanna turned to Sigrun. "Help me get her on her feet. Oghren, I need something for her to drink."

"I'm your man then. What do you need?" He started pulling out various bottles and jugs.

"Water. Tepid."

There was a pause. "Huh? She need a drink or a wash?"

Sigrun snorted despite herself. "Some people drink water, Oghren. It's actually quite good for you."

The berserker grunted. "Aye, I heard that. Didn't want to believe it. Unnatural sodding freaks. Fine, I'll get some. There's no running water around here mind; it'll be muddy."

Velanna waved that away. "I can purify it. But I need it quickly, Oghren."

"Right you are. Be right back." He wandered off up the bone-laden path, his footsteps crunching on the gravel.

"Can you stand, Kathryn?" she asked me.

I nodded slowly. "Think so. Need some help."

Two arms weaved around my shoulders, one lithe and wiry, the other corded and thick. They had my slight frame up and supported in moments. I found myself able to stand with only minor swaying.

"Come. Let us get you away from here. I know some keeper lore that will help, but we need to find a place with trees and grass. This place has neither."

We made an odd group as we made our way out of the Dragonbone Wastes. I was between Velanna and Sigrun in height, which made their support easier. Thunder wandered around us in circles, whining at my distress. We caught up with Oghren as he was coming back, bearing a bulging wineskin.

"Here you go. It's from a puddle under the bones of a big bastard up ahead. It's not tainted, but I'd shave my beard before I'd drink it."

"Thank you," Velanna said, accepting the skin. I was rather happy that her chilly attitude was a lot more thawed around Oghren. It made her much easier to deal with. She tipped some of the water onto her fingers. She mumbled a few words as she let it drip back into the skin. There was a long, drawn out flare of magic that tasted of wind and ice.

"What spell was that?" I asked.

She handed me the skin. "A purifier; it cleanses water." She paused. "Drink up. Drink as much as you can."

I nodded, and raised the skin to my lips. Instead of brackish and grimy, the water was… empty. Water taken from a running stream was cool and refreshing, but this stuff was sterile. It slaked my thirst, but that was it. I lowered the skin after a few swallows.

"More, Kathryn. You need to flush the lyrium from your body."

I sighed, and continued drinking. By the time Velanna relented, I was so full that my armour straps were noticeably tighter across my belly.

"Uh oh," I said as I handed the half-full skin back.

Sigrun sighed. "Oghren, go over there and turn your back, would you?"

"What for?"

She put her fists on her hips. "Because Kathryn needs to relieve herself."

"Wouldn't be the first time I've seen her take a piss," he objected. "Stones, I've seen her do her business in the middle of a fight!" He paused, eyes focused on that embarrassing incident in the past and chuckled to himself. "Heh. Good times."

I felt myself blush at the memory. He just had to bring that one up, didn't he?

"Oghren! Go!" Sigrun snapped, imperiously pointing off to one side.

"Fine, I'm going," he grumbled. "We need more men in this sodding outfit."

Velanna held me upright as Sigrun unbuckled the relevant parts of my armour. I squatted and performed my ablutions. Velanna gasped in shock.

"What?" I asked.

Wordlessly, she pointed to the ground beneath me. Craning forward, I looked down. "Oh."

Pooling between my legs was a damp, expanding puddle. It was perfectly normal, except for the glowing azure radiance.

"Okay," I said slowly and deliberately. "No more lyrium for me for a while."

It took some time, drinking the rest of the sterile water, and producing another glowing puddle, but eventually I'd purged most of the excess lyrium in my bloodstream. My kidneys ached abominably, making walking upright difficult. Velanna admonished me for my recklessness; the irony amusing me. The worst of the tremors faded.

We headed south-west along the road skirting the western edge of the Feravel Plains, rather than try and trek south-east across them. It would not have been difficult for Velanna or me, but neither Oghren nor Sigrun would have enjoyed slugging through leagues of muddy, fertile earth.

We camped the night a few miles out from the Dragonbone Wastes. None of us wanted to spend the night in the eerie draconic graveyard. Much better to camp off the road in the shadow of a hill on soft earth. With a nature witch and an elementalist, maintaining a campfire was not a problem. Thunder was invaluable in locating some game, and it was almost midnight before we were all full on greasy, spit-roasted hares and wild boar.

Velanna's nature magic was as effective as promised. By the time she had finished, I felt both refreshed and exhausted – refreshed from having toxins removed and exhausted because the toxin in question amplified my spellpower.

We rose late the next day, finished off the game from the evening before, and set off. The trip was punctuated twice by the necessity of killing wandering darkspawn. The tainted monsters appeared adrift in the absence of both faction leaders; they lacked all direction.

The road terminated where it met the North Road, not far from Knotwood Hills and Kal'Hirol.

Ogrhen suggested that we check to ensure that no darkspawn from the routed forces were fortifying the place. Sigrun agreed wholeheartedly, having survived two such campaigns. The side-trip would not be arduous, and would take little time. Indeed, probably less time than we'd already spent stopping occasionally to butcher isolated groups of darkspawn.

A half-hour's march out from the chasm over Kal'Hirol, we ran into a heavily armed and armoured patrol of folk no more than five feet tall. At our approach, they adopted a ready, but not aggressive stance. Their armour was well maintained, but it was the family crest on the shields that drew my attention. These dwarves belonged to the Aeducan family.

I didn't pause. "Which of you is the squad leader?" I asked.

A dwarf pulled off his helmet, revealing a familiar face with a close cropped red beard. "Warden," he greeted me neutrally.

"Piotin," I said in similar, inflectionless tones. We'd been introduced, but had never spoken beyond the official greetings at Bhelen's coronation. "It's good to see you. What brings you out here?"

Bhelen's cousin tucked his horned helmet under one arm. "Kal'Hirol. The Shaperate authenticated the weapons and artifacts you sent, so King Bhelen ordered that the fortress be brought back under dwarf control. I must say, the situation in your arling does not impress me."

I raised an eyebrow. "Situation? What were you expecting?"

He all but sneered. "There are darkspawn all over your lands, Warden. We have encountered three bands today. I did not expect that you would allow that."

I nodded. "Yes, an army attacked the City of Amaranthine yesterday. We routed them, of course, but now we have to chase down and kill the survivors."

Piotin spat on the ground. "Bah, the 'spawn don't ever run, Warden," he said, clearly not taking my words seriously.

Oghren stepped forward, a glint in his eye and a humourless smile on his lips. "The only thing you know about fighting darkspawn is ordering your flunkies to do it for you," he scoffed.

"Oghren Kondrat," Piotin sneered. "Still alive I see."

Oghren snorted. "Observant as ever. Still clinging to the Aeducan name in lieu of actual skill?"

I cleared my throat. "I take it you two know each other?"

Oghren gave me an evil grin. "Oh, aye. Poo-tin and I go way back. He used to win all the Provings I wasn't entered in."

"Which was almost all of them," Piotin interjected. "You were too busy drinking mud and clinging to your wife's name in lieu of actual achievement."

Well, wasn't this awkward? "As much as I love listening to old friends reminisce, we are in a bit of a rush," I said, hoping it would be enough to stop the pair from coming to blows. "Piotin, when did you get here? What is the status of the fortress?"

With one last threatening glare at my companion, the dwarf turned back to me. "We arrived three nights ago. We only found vermin in the fortress itself, but a lot of corpses. You did good work there, I'll give you that."

"Much obliged," I conceded, trying not to take offense. "We need to get back to Vigil's Keep, but I'd like to have a quick look at the area near the chasm I've set aside for trading."

He jerked his head, and his squad began marching in one direction. "You know the way. We'll be back there at the end of our patrol." Without further ado, he plonked his helmet back on his head and joined the march without as much as a farewell wave.

"What a pleasant chap," Sigrun observed wryly. "Is he really King Bhelen's cousin?"

Oghren scratched at the base of his lopsided beard plaits. "Aye."

Sigrun clapped me on the back. "You must have been really persuasive in that letter, Kathryn. By sending Piotin Aeducan, King Bhelen is taking a personal interest. Maybe there's more than one expedition coming?"

Velanna frowned. "More than one? Why?"

I hummed, rubbing my chin. "Some of the deshyrs I met would probably order the slaughter of hundreds of dwarves to control a fortress like Kal'Hirol. I wouldn't be surprised if they'd see it as a way to set themselves up as rulers of a rival Thaig."

Oghren shook his head. "Doubt it. Bhelen might not be able to take complete control himself, but fifty loyal dwarves fortifying Kal'Hirol would make taking it by force sodding hard. More likely that there're dwarves from different families here, and Poo-tin is in charge to keep them in line. It would take a brave dwarf to challenge him, I'll admit."

Sigrun gave him a sly glance. "You seemed to know each other. Didn't get along, eh?"

Oghren snorted and spat. "Sodding nug-lover was always lording his noble blood over the rest of us. He never did take too kindly to me using his beard to polish the floor of the Proving Ground."

That caused Sigrun to look surprised. "Really? The Legionnaires used to tell stories of Piotin Aeducan's Provings. His reputation is very impressive."

Oghren regaled us with tales of the many, varied and humiliating ways he defeated Bhelen's cousin in training and the Provings. All of the descriptions were graphic, most were unlikely, and more than a few sounded physically impossible.

We ran into two more patrols, both of which were noticeably more welcoming than Piotin had been. They even gave us their reports on the darkspawn activity. In the spirit of cooperation, Velanna suggested (with remarkable restraint, given the lack of veiled insults) they march abreast, rather than in single file, over damp ground; pointing out that there would be less mud that way. They took the suggestion enthusiastically, and waved us onwards.

It was almost noon when we reached the chasm. The industrious folk had set up several temporary pavilions on the surface, mostly housing dwarves working lumber cut from nearby trees. Dozens of wagons, mostly empty, were arrayed in neat, compact rows to one side. They'd obviously brought a lot of stuff with them.

Though there were a few dwarves on the surface, most of them were deep in the abyss - industrially building, shifting, and cleaning. The rickety wooden scaffolding had been either replaced with new bridges and ladders or reinforced, making the descent much less nerve-wracking. A group of about a dozen were assembling a system of pullies and levers around a platform. I examined it curiously, trying to discern its intended function, until Oghren pointed out that it would be a way of lifting goods to the top of the cliff.

A massive fire was burning at the far end of the abyss; almost atop the very spot we first encountered Sigrun. It appeared oddly positioned, until Velanna noticed that the stone walls above it acted as a natural chimney.

A steady stream of dwarves pushing barrows marched out of the tunnels leading to Kal'Hirol, and dumped their loads of the slimy, fibrous tainted material that had coated the walls and floor of Kal'Hirol on the flames. Suddenly, the position of the fire made perfect sense. Grey Warden immunity or no, there was no way I'd have wanted to breathe in that smoke.

Interestingly, a lot of the dwarves doing the hard grunt work bore brands on their faces. Bhelen might be a right bastard, but he was a shrewd bastard. Offering casteless dwarves paid work outside of Orzammar was probably a masterstroke.

We were greeted very cordially by the mine's master engineer; essentially, the place's administrator. She introduced herself as Madison, and I recognised her as one of the Shaperate's apprentices. She burbled happily about the superficial finds they'd made so far, and how much more there was to discover. She was generous with her praise at our efforts in clearing the fortress, and specifically at my invitation to let the dwarves retake and settle here.

I gestured to the rough maps she had spread out over temporary wooden tables. "The land above has been set aside for a human settlement based on trading," I informed her. "We plan on upgrading the roads first to accommodate the necessary traffic, but eventually there will be a permanent trading town up there. If there's anything you need, let me know and I'll see that it's added to the first tranche of supplies."

Madison nodded happily, her topknot bouncing in an entertaining fashion. "Oh, I will. I'm sure someone here has an idea of what we need. I wouldn't mind some nugs, if you have any spare. We haven't had freshly roasted nug in weeks."

I coughed. "Um, nugs aren't all that common on the surface."

"Really?" she asked; her eyes wide in wondrous horror at the thought.

"Really," I confirmed, trying to express sympathetic despair at the obvious failings of the surface community. It was a thought though; nugs were perfectly happy living in tunnels underground, and Vigil's Keep had those in abundance. Perhaps we could breed some nugs there, to help the dwarves feel at home. "But we do have pigs. They're sort of like big nugs that can be roasted too. I'll make sure some deliveries include fresh food."

A voice from the doorway interrupted. "Better make sure it doesn't include ale barrels, or the wagon would never arrive, right Oghren?"

Oghren growled, deep in his throat. "Poo-tin, I always said that mouth of yours was going to get you into trouble one day. May as well make it today." He hefted his axe.

Bhelen's cousin narrowed his eyes, but gripped his own axe tightly. "Any time, surfacer."

Velanna rubbed her forehead, a perplexed expression on her face. "How exactly did we get into this?" she asked.

We sat on hard stone slabs arrayed around a relatively flat, clear area. Dwarves packed the makeshift stands, and the cacophony of excited conversations almost drowned out her question.

Sigrun giggled as she bounced on the stone slab between us. "Oh come on! I never got to sit in the Proving stands back in Orzammar. I've always wanted to watch one, and this is just like the real thing!"

Velanna looked at her as though she'd grown a third arm. "What are you talking about?" she demanded in a shrill voice.

I sighed. "Provings are, well, a sort of competition. Formalised battles – one on one, or pairs, quartets, or even mass free-for-alls."

She frowned. "Yes, I inferred that from Oghren's ravings. What is so exciting about them?" she demanded, waving her arm around at the excited crowd. "We are sitting on uncomfortable stone waiting for two dwarves to try and kill each other. What is the point?"

Sigrun looked up at her in disbelief. "They are the most exciting things ever! We only heard about them in Dust Town, of course. But even there we had our favourites as kids. Some of the old timers had stories of bouts fought long ago."

Velanna still looked confused, so I tried explaining. "The Dalish revere talent at archery, right?"

"Revere? No. We revere magical ability, but not skill at archery. We do greatly admire and respect it though. Children are all taught the art from a young age. Prodigies are identified and encouraged."

I nodded. "So, what if every so often, all the clans got together and had a competition to see who the best archer was. And the winner won accolades; fame, marriage proposals, respect, that sort of thing."

Velanna touched her chin, considering the idea. "Such a competition may well be entertaining, perhaps even a worthwhile endeavour. But the winner would not demand such frivolities."

Sigrun sighed, but let me continue explaining. "Well, the dwarves have a different system. Where the Dalish live as a community, all working together, the dwarves live in a highly structured society, where you are born into your role. You can succeed or fail with that role on your merits, but generally, you can't move out of the caste you were born to."

"If I had a chance to fight in a Proving, I would have jumped at it!" Sigrun declared. She grinned at me. "A duster was in the ring a couple of years ago, you know. She even won, believe it or not," she said, with her chin lifted proudly.

I looked over to her. "I've seen you fight, so I don't doubt that a duster could win, but how did she compete? The Proving Master I met wouldn't let a casteless dwarf anywhere near the place."

Sigrun shrugged. "Scuttlebutt says that she worked for one of Jarvia's heavies. One who was into rigging Provings, so I suppose she got into the ring that way. She had to wear a full helmet and a man's armour, and she still stomped all comers into the stone."

Velanna seemed to be following, but suddenly frowned. "Rigging?"

"Fixing it so you know who's going to win."

She blinked. "For what purpose?"

"Betting, usually," I replied. "Sometimes it's to embarrass someone, or change the odds of later bouts."

Her mouth dropped open. "People wager on who will win a death match? Why would- wait!" She spun and wagged her finger in my face with intense disapproval. "Is that what you've been doing? With all those dwarves over there? Taking bets on this fight?"

I nodded happily. "Yup."

Sigrun looked impressed. "You bet on Oghren, didn't you? That he'd beat Piotin?"

I nodded again. "Yup."

The duster smirked. "I don't think any of them know how well Oghren fights, do they?"

"Not a clue," I agreed happily.

"Do you think I have time to make a few bets myself?" she asked, hope filling her tone.

I shook my head. "The fight will start soon. You don't want to lose your seat or miss it."

She slumped. "I suppose not."

Velanna looked at us as though we were insane. Or, from her point of view, insane-er. She apparently decided not to continue on with the current line of conversation and went back to what she thought was a safer topic. "What happened to the casteless dwarf you mentioned? The one who won the Proving?"

Sigrun's expression barely moved, but I could tell she was hiding some sadness. "She got found out; unmasked right on the Proving ground after winning. She disappeared, and was probably killed for embarrassing all those warrior-caste."

Velanna looked horrified. She looked around the makeshift arena at the excited crowd and back again. "Someone talented enough to win one of your Provings was killed just because she had no caste?"

With a shrug, Sigrun replied, "Yep." The casual acceptance chilled me. I understood discrimination all too well. But at least my imprisonment was for a reason. A poor reason, but it was there. There was no reason whatsoever for the casteless dwarves of Dust Town to be treated as they were.

The crowd of dwarves sitting around us leapt to their feet as one and let out a roar of approval. A grey-bearded dwarf stepped into the middle of the small ring and announced the fight, embellishing for all he was worth. Apparently, it was to be a long-awaited rematch between the two greatest warriors of their generation.

Velanna looked around the crowd, surprised at the announcement and reaction. "Oghren is this revered among the dwarves?"

I sighed. "No. Piotin is, but Oghren is sort of an embarrassment."

Before she could ask further, a voice intruded on our conversation. "There you are, Warden!"

I looked over my shoulder, surprised. "Felsi? What are you doing here?"

The feisty, heavily-pregnant dwarf shoved a larger dwarf out of her way and sat down on the stone bench behind me. "Oghren wouldn't own up to his responsibilities," she snapped, cradling her belly, "so I had to go back to the inn at Lake Calenhad, didn't I? I ran into this lot on the way back, and I jumped at the chance to finally work for someone who appreciates me. Do you want to tell me what you think you're doing, letting Oghren fight Piotin?"

Rather than answer, I decided introductions were in order. "Felsi, this is Warden Sigrun and Warden Velanna. Wardens, this is Felsi, Oghren's wife."

That pronouncement surprised both of them. Felsi didn't even glance in their direction. "Well? He's going to get slaughtered!"

"You don't think he can hold his own against Piotin?" I asked, eyebrows raised.

Felsi rolled her eyes. "Piotin hasn't lost a Proving since he and Oghren were boys. Oh, I'd bet on the ale-addled sod against almost anyone else, but Piotin is the best warrior in Orzammar. And you're going to let him kill my husband!"

I narrowed my eyes at her. "I'm not going to 'let' him do anything of the sort. This isn't Warden business. I'm not going to stop Oghren doing something he desperately wants to do."

She almost snarled at me. "I guess you just don't care about one more widow, Warden. Fine." She rose to her feet. "Well, I'm not going to watch him die. I'll just-"

I grabbed her hand. "Sit down. Just watch. You might be surprised."

She tried pulling away. "No! I don't want to see-"

The roar of the crowd interrupted her, and the two warriors strode into the makeshift Proving Ground from opposite ends. Neither combatant spared the crowd a glance; their attention completely focused on the other. Piotin's armour gleamed with the shine that was the result of diligent hours of polishing. Oghren's armour in contrast was dull and matt, speckled in dried blood, gore and dirt.

The crowd pressed forward, and Felsi had no choice but to stay. She stepped over the bench with an ungainly wobble and plonked herself down next to me. "By my ancestors, I hope you're right, Warden."

I didn't get to respond before the impromptu Proving Master called out, starting the match. Piotin roared a challenge and charged, axe raised to strike. Oghren bent his legs slightly and wound back, his own axe held ready. The two struck out simultaneously.

I'd never seen a real duel between two berserkers wielding two-handed axes. Oh, Oghren had taken down warriors who wielded such weapons before, but that had usually been in the context of a free-for-all brawl with allies on both sides. This was a savage display of both skill and power; in a setting as close to being perfectly fair as possible.

Axe blade struck and bit through armour plates. Blood spurted out through rents in metal and flesh. Both dwarves bellowed their rage in spittle-laced roars, hacking at the other in mindless fury. Sprays of blood spattered over the front rows of the crowd, which seemed to drive those painted into even greater heights of excitement.

Piotin, always composed and rational in conversation, appeared to fully retreat into a berserk rage, attacking with axe, fist, foot, forehead and teeth. More than once, Felsi flinched and gripped my hand tighter.

Oghren however, seemed to retain some semblance of thought. He occasionally paused in his attacks, to get a better shot. He would accept a hit and use the momentum to turn him around, adding power to his spinning horizontal swipes. Twice Piotin unexpectedly found himself sprawled on the stone floor, leaving smeared crimson trails on the rock. The crowd found this series of events shocking, given their collective gasps.

Broken bones did little to slow either combatant. An overhand smash from Piotin struck Oghren in the shoulder, obviously breaking his left collarbone. He still hefted his axe with strength and skill – the only outward indication of the injury were the lopsided shoulder plates of his armour.

Piotin's foot was almost severed by the edge of Oghren's weapon. He fought on oblivious, dragging the ruined extremity. A primal roar followed.

Oghren's nose got flattened, leaving blood flowing freely down his beard plaits.

Half of Piotin's teeth spun and skipped across the ring, courtesy of the back of Oghren's armoured fist. An enterprising casteless dwarf dove to the ground, scooping them up.

A quarter of the wounds either of the battling pair sustained would have signaled the end for just about any other warrior I knew. But the more injuries they received, the harder they swung.

Velanna gasped as Oghren was struck a devastating blow to his side, almost leaping to her feet. She began weaving a spell, but I leapt over Sigrun's lap and grabbed her hands, forcing her back to the seat. "No!"

"But that injury could be fatal!" she wailed over the roar of the crowd.

"He's fine!" I snapped. "Do not interfere!"

Indeed, despite the apparent mortal wound, Oghren just clamped his left arm over Piotin's axe, holding it steady in the deep wound in his body. He adjusted his balance and kicked the dwarf noble hard in the guts. Piotin fell backwards, the blood-stained handle slipping from his grasp.

Oghren wound up his own axe, swinging it in a wide arc one handed, before bringing it up and under, striking out at Piotin's head from below. The flat of the blade struck square on, shattering the dwarf's chin and snapping his head back.

Piotin Aeducan, the pride of Orzammar, collapsed in a senseless heap.

As one, the crowd stood and screamed their approval, probably scaring every animal for miles around. Oghren casually pulled his opponent's magnificent axe from his armour and discarded it with a negligent toss. Blood ran down his armour unimpeded. He raised his arms – the right arm much higher than the left – and roared back at the crowd. That seemed to please them very much indeed, if the increase in noise was any indication.

Even heavily wounded and dripping blood, Oghren still looked every inch the victorious warrior. He grabbed Piotin's left foot in his right hand and deliberately dragged the insensate dwarf around the ring. Despite having lost a lot of money, the dwarves in the crowd enjoyed a good, entertaining spectacle. They laughed and jeered and cheered as they watched the pride of Orzammar literally used to wipe the floor. I suspected that it would be a story they would happily tell their grandchildren over and over again.

I turned to Felsi, a quip on my lips about her lack of faith. It died unsaid. She wasn't paying me any attention. The tiny mother-to-be just stared at her husband; her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her cheeks flushed red and her breathing rapid.

I glanced over at my Wardens. Velanna's expression was simply relieved, but Sigrun looked to be in a similar state to Felsi, if less obvious. She broke her gaze from Oghren and glanced at Felsi. She recognised her expression just as quickly and I had, and gave a small sigh.

I suppose that given their martial history and traditions, a dwarf who was nigh on invincible in a one-on-one contest would be very attractive. Perhaps that explained his belief that he was irresistible to women.

"Thank you for managing to leave him alive," I said, slapping Oghren on the shoulder.

He winced. "Yeah, nae bother, Kat," he grunted, gingerly moving his shoulder away from my hand. "Nae bother at all. It's better this way, now that I think about it."

Velanna glared at me as her glowing hands traced over Oghren. "What do you mean, better?" she demanded of her patient.

He gave her an evil grin. "Ol' Poo-tin gets to walk around knowing that I beat him – and in front of people who all saw me beat him. Result, I say."

"Indeed," I agreed, nodded amiably to another dwarf who passed me some coins and grumbled some congratulations to Oghren before wandering off. "I think the reputation of the Grey Wardens has just gone up a couple of notches. Well done."

He almost glowed under my praise. "Aw, thanks, Kat. What's with all them buggers giving you money?"

"Oh, nothing," I said.

Sigrun bounced on her feet. "Nothing? You stood up and announced that you'd take any bet against Oghren!"

"Say what?" he blurted, sitting up suddenly. His eyes lost focus and he groaned briefly.

"Oghren!" Velanna snapped. "Lie still!"

He grumbled a bit, but complied. "You bet against Piotin?" he said, once he was comfortable again.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" I said easily, though I did note the sudden lack of self-confidence.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Sigrun giggled. "Well done, Kathryn. He's speechless. You've broken him."

"Well, let's see how much more we can break him, eh?"

He groaned. "Sodding women, ganging up on me.

I snickered. "Well, get used to it. We're bringing home another one."

He looked at me curiously. "Eh? You find another recruit?"

Sigrun snorted her amusement, and even Velanna cracked a small smile. "Nope. We ran into someone. She's coming back to the Vigil with us."

He blinked owlishly at me, still not comprehending. "Who?"

"Felsi."

He grimaced. "Ah, sandstone!"

We stayed for a full day, helping the dwarves settle. Sigrun helped scout out and disarm a few remaining ancient traps. But, as a Grey Warden, she discovered a level of respect from her fellow dwarves she never in her wildest dreams expected – even Piotin Aeducan bowed to her; once I'd got him back on his feet.

I had healed the warrior myself, figuring that he was more interested in getting back on his feet than not having scars. I did what I could, but it would still be a couple of weeks before he would be at his best. Far better than the six months the dwarves first expected.

Velanna preferred to stay topside, out of the rift. I couldn't blame her. But she made herself useful, teaching the dwarves stationed up there the rudiments of woodcraft.

I helped clear Kal'Hirol of the tainted muck that still coated the walls. Using fire would simply fill the fortress with deadly smoke, but it could be frozen solid. A sharp blow would then shatter huge chunks of the awful stuff off the walls easily.

Oghren spent the time overseeing his armour being patched back to marginal functionality and basking in the glory of victory. It was a vindication of sorts, I guess, given the way he was treated in Orzammar before we met. Despite the ungraciousness of some dwarves who'd lost quite a bit of coin, everyone expressed admiration for his sheer constitution.

Felsi used the time to organise herself. With a small portion of my winnings, we purchased a pair of wagons and supplies, enabling her to travel in relative comfort. Perhaps not surprisingly, Velanna had extensive experience with travelling mothers-to-be, and expressed confidence that the short trip to the Vigil would not be arduous for Felsi.

We didn't leave alone either. Several dwarves offered to join the Wardens; Oghren's savage display of skill undoubtedly the best advertising I could hope for. Still, it was a tight line to walk – many of those skilled enough to pique my interest were invariably necessary to the viability of the resettlement effort. Given the potential political storm that could erupt from me poaching the irreplaceable, I worked with Madison to explain why we were not accepting those whose skills could not be spared.

The three who measured up were a pair of casteless siblings, Drake and his sister Hape, and Bhenson, a mason's son who longed to leave his assigned station in life. So much so that he had been confined to a makeshift prison in the fortress for the results of an argument he had with his father. One that left four dwarves with severe concussions.

So, with a small list of necessities and longer list of nice-to-haves, we set off back east. Morale was high, but brittle, as we had no way of knowing what we would find.

Hours before the Vigil was in sight, we saw the smoke plume. It rose gently into the sky, the upper cloud trailing off to the south with the wind. Sigrun expressed some dismay, but Oghren reminded her that the best way of getting rid of an army of darkspawn corpses would be to burn them.

It was a nicer explanation to the other possibility.

The next few hours were a trial. Everyone was on edge. But, as we approached close enough that Velanna and I could make out the walls, our fears evaporated. There were armoured guards patrolling around the top of them.

The stink of burning darkspawn filled the air and coated our tongues as we drew close to the Keep. Regular piles of charred and smoking corpses indicated a concerted effort to dispose of a truly staggering number of tainted monsters.

We drew closer. Shouts went up as we were identified, and we could hear cheers and whistles from atop of and from behind the walls. The gates opened, and a mass of people charged out.

Leading them was Seranni, her face alight with joy at seeing her sister alive. The elf sprinted out along the main path, straight at the wagons. Velanna leapt down and ran towards the Keep, meeting her sister in a relieved embrace.

"You're alive," they shrieked in unison.

I couldn't help but smile at the scene. Moments later, several people surrounded the wagons, cheering and congratulating us on our survival. I nodded, and answered what questions I could, but it took Oghren barking an order to clear a path for his pregnant wife for the crowd to step back. I handed him the reins and jumped down, heading for the Keep ahead of the rest.

Anders sauntered out of the main gate as I approached. He nodded and tossed me a lazy salute in greeting. "Commander. Nice to see you. Not sure if you noticed, but you missed a bit of excitement."

"So I heard," I retorted. "Can you do me a favour and organise for someone to take care of these wagons. We've got a pregnant dwarf in one and a few recruits in the other."

He looked surprised. "You brought home more Wardens that you left with? Damn." There was a rustling in his hood, and Ser Pounce's head popped up. The bloody thing hissed at me.

I snarled at it. "I see you're still carrying around my future hat."

He sighed theatrically. "I suppose it's too much to ask that all my friends get along, isn't it?"

With so few Wardens, it made sense to have the debrief somewhere a little more comfortable than the main hall. Vigil's Keep had a couple of smaller rooms outfitted for comfortable evening conversations. One room had various hunting trophies lining the walls, several armchairs and long padded seats, and a massive fireplace. It was a tolerable environment for a small group of people sit and talk amongst themselves.

Other than my three new recruits, there were two more newly-Joined Grey Wardens in the room. During the siege, several of the defenders were invariably tainted. As competent and skilled as the Wardens I'd left at the Keep were, they were still only weeks into their Grey Warden 'career'. As such, Nathaniel, Anders and Seranni did not yet have the ability to accurately sense nearby darkspawn, let alone identify the faint corruption in their allies around them.

Of the thirteen people who presented with the taint during and after the siege, six chose to take their own lives without telling anyone of their misfortune. It was an unfortunate, yet a direct consequence of our secrecy. While I had no personal objection, Nathaniel felt that it should not become common knowledge that joining the Wardens 'cured' the taint. He feared that we would be inundated with supplicants who may or may not be tainted, and who would not have the skills to be effective Grey Wardens.

Of the remaining tainted defenders, two turned into ghouls quickly, and had to be executed. Of the last five, three did not survive the Joining. It seemed surprising to Anders, but those who succumbed to the Joining Potion were all burly, seasoned warriors. The two who lived were not.

One was an elf formally of the kitchen staff. Benjamin had been ferrying water and medical supplies to the front line defenders when one of the few wall breaches had taken place right on top of him. He had fought darkspawn alongside armoured guards – while wearing only an apron and swinging a water pail. Reports were that he had brained a pair of genlocks before being cut down. Anders had revived him after the darkspawn had been beaten back, but he had already been corrupted by then.

The other was an archer from Highever named Briannah. A scion of a noble family without land to their name, she had come north after the Blight with an offer to join Fergus Cousland's service. She had stopped at the Vigil overnight on her trip, and had offered to join the garrison here, seeing the small number of servicemen as a faster track to promotion. Nathaniel described her as ambitious, but diligent.

Now, the three recruits and two junior Wardens sat together in one half of the room; part of our company, yet still newcomers. Briannah sat ramrod straight, as though at attention, giving me vague sensation of déjà vu. I hoped she would turn out better than Mhairi. Benjamin was unassuming, trying to be as small as possible. Drake and Hape sat together on one of the loveseats, their nervous, branded faces revealing that they were unsure what was expected of them. Bhenson sat apart from even the newcomers; leaning against the far wall.

There were non-Wardens present too. Woolsey, Garevel and Varel were all present. The bean-counting harridan even had a sheaf of papers for me to sign. She could wait.

A pair of servants wafted amongst us, distributing food, collecting plates, wiping away crumbs and refilling drinks. Some of the newcomers were unused to the concept of service; at least from the receiving end. Their reactions were somewhat entertaining. But the food was gratefully accepted, wine and ale enthusiastically drunk.

Nathaniel sank back into an armchair, the soft leather offering a drawn-out fart. He winced at Oghren's lewd chuckle. "Maker, I'm tired. I suppose I should start with just after you left."

I smiled at him. In his fatigue, he was far less composed than usual. "Take your time."

He took a sip of his wine and sighed. "You'd barely stepped outside the main gate before the demands started. More than one noble in the Keep insisted that I assume formal control and declare myself arl."

I blinked. "Seriously? An army was marching on the City of Amaranthine, and they were more interested in staging a coup?"

Varel shook his head. "Not a coup as such, Commander. I don't think the nobles in the Keep thought you would survive, so they all wanted to be as close as possible to the new arl. Had a formal declaration been drafted, they would have counter-signed it. With the arling in disarray, a lot of families were looking to annexing territory adjacent to their lands."

Velanna smirked at me. "How charming. And you rule these people?"

"It wasn't my idea," I snapped back at her. In the back of my mind however, I could picture a very amused Alistair Therin cross his arms and say, 'you were the only candidate'.

Nate shrugged. "I declined, of course. I knew you'd be coming back."

Anders laughed out loud, stroking his demon-spawn cat. "And didn't they hate you for saying so."

My second gave Anders a dark look. "Indeed. Fortunately, the argument only lasted a couple of hours. Word arrived of a second darkspawn army approaching the Vigil. The prospect of imminent death focused the attention of the various agitators quite satisfactorily."

"I'll bet," Oghren offered.

I grabbed another pie from a passing servant. "We heard about the army marching on the Vigil after we got to the city. We killed some darkspawn there, including one of the armoured ogres you've got out front, and found that the 'spawn were already inside the walls. They'd used the smugglers' tunnels."

Garevel blanched. "They were inside the city already? Before you got there?"

Sigrun nodded. "It wasn't an army exactly, but there were lots of them. We think the army split before it got to Amaranthine."

Nate put his wine glass down and steepled his fingers in thought. "You stayed to evict them, I take it? Surely there would have been those who suggested returning here to face the main force?"

I nodded, deliberately leaving my face blank. "Yes, but I had faith in you, in the walls Voldrik built, in Wade's equipment and in the forces left. We were the only chance the people in Amaranthine had."

Varel leaned forward. "There were people still alive?"

I nodded. "Yes. Most of them, in fact. A lot fled to the Chantry when the alarm sounded. We probably only arrived a couple of hours after the darkspawn at most. I estimate that a good half of the city survived. Probably more, once all the refugees return."

You could almost see the stress leave Nate's body, the way he relaxed into the chair. "That is very good news. Thank you. And for what it's worth, I'm sure all my ancestors would want to thank you as well for saving that city."

To a backdrop of Seranni's and Velanna's undisguised scoffs, I poked my tongue out at him. "Human nobles? Thank an elf? Really?"

He actually smiled. A full on, show-your-teeth, smile. "Absolutely. Every one of them would have been terrified of you. But even had they been more haughty than frightened, they would at least be thankful."

I hummed an agreement. "Yes well, after we slaughtered the bastards in the city, we found out from one of those talking darkspawn where the Mother was located. So off we went to kill her."

Nathaniel snapped his head around to the arling map on the wall. "Where?"

"The Dragonbone Wastes," I supplied.

Sigrun clapped her hands together. "We killed a dragon! It was guarding the ruined castle there. And Kathryn said that I get to put the skull in my room!"

To their credit, no one tried to dissuade her, or even mock her. "How to you intend to get a dragon's skull through the door to your room?" Anders asked with a superior smirk.

Sigrun's mouth opened, and then closed with an audible snap. "Aw, bugger." She turned her head around to face me. "Did you know that I wouldn't be able to get it in?"

I hadn't considered it, honestly. "Voldrik might know a way. Or we can haul it up the side of the keep and rebuild your room's outer wall after it's inside."

The logistical challenges were swept away at her smile. It was so broad, had she been outside, her molars would have been in danger of sunburn.

Anders leaned forward, to Ser Pounce's annoyance. "You killed the Mother then?"

We nodded. "And the Architect too. A sort of two-for-one bonus."

His eyes bulged. "What?! But he's at least as powerful as one of the Magisters of old!"

I frowned at Anders' use of the male pronoun. Since when do darkspawn have genders?

Oghren laughed nastily. "Don't matter. Darkspawn, Magister or whatever, a chunk of metal through the head fixes anything." He jerked a thumb towards Sigrun. "This little spitfire shoved her sword through the bastard's brain, just like she did to the dragon outside. Don't get her angry."

Praise from someone of Oghren's ability pleased our little duster.

Velanna crossed her arms and glared at me. "Do not omit your own recklessness, Kathryn!"

I sighed. "Fine. Anders, important safety tip. Twenty-two of those new lyrium potions are somewhat beyond the safe, maximum daily dose. It's into 'glowing piss' territory."

He looked at me blankly for a second before an expression of horror appeared. "You idiot!" he exploded.

"Anders!" Nathaniel snapped.

I held up a hand. "He's right, Nate. It was reckless of me. But, in my defense, it was necessary. The Architect was incredibly powerful, and it took all that lyrium to keep me going long enough for Sigrun to put him down."

We described the fight with the Architect, trying to impress upon them just how harrowing and dangerous the battle had been. The subsequent fight with the Mother was anti-climactic in comparison.

Nathaniel sighed and sipped at his wine when our tale finished. "That was… impressive."

Garevel offered his agreement. "Events here were a little more prosaic. The darkspawn army arrived perhaps half a day after you left. We expected that they would simply charge the walls until we'd killed them all. But they were being directed by someone with a passing level of tactical ability."

"The walls held then," I said unnecessarily. "Even though Voldrik hadn't finished upgrading them completely?"

He nodded. "Mostly. It will take months for them to be finished to his satisfaction, but the improvements he made in just a few weeks were nothing short of life-saving. Some darkspawn breeched the walls at weak points in the defenses, but we were up to the task of keeping them back."

Seranni grimaced. "Justice died."

I sighed, feeling an odd combination of relief and loss. In my peripheral vision, I saw Anders' expression change. Not surprising. He had lost a friend.

The Dalish scout continued. "He singlehandedly held back a dozen or more darkspawn while I picked them off." She drew a deep breath. "It was two days into the siege. Without his need for rest, Justice was able to maintain a constant watch on the flow of battle, and order people to shore up weakening defenses. But we were so stretched and exhausted by the end of the second day that he went himself. He fell, but only after we managed to rally enough soldiers to force the darkspawn back through the breach."

"Even after two days of solid fighting? That is very impressive."

Anders reached around and patted his pet demon. "Ser Pounce here is a hero. A hurlock tried attacking me from behind, but he just about clawed its face off. A true Grey Warden feline."

I leaned back in my chair, shuddering at the thought. Time to change the topic. "What of Kristoff's remains?"

"They were cremated separately," Anders replied, still patting Ser Pounce. "I collected the ashes and put them in a box for his wife. Do you know if she made it back to Amaranthine and survived?"

"Aye," Oghren said, before taking a long swallow. "She was holed up and praying in the temple."

"Well, hopefully his mortal remains will give her some closure," Anders said, with commendable diplomacy.

"When did the siege finally break?" I asked, trying to get away from the uncomfortable topic.

"Yesterday afternoon," Garevel replied. "I have ordered the soldiers to use your methods to dispose of the corpses. But we are running short of fuel. Ser Anders has been very helpful in igniting the piles, but it has been slow going. There are just too many."

"A firestorm or two will fix them," I said.

Anders and Velanna both rolled their eyes. "A firestorm or two, she says," Anders muttered. "I can't create a firestorm."

"Not everyone has your talent with fire, Kathryn," the Dalish mage pointed out.

Nathaniel took a refill. "So, what are the plans now?"

I scratched at my chin. "On the darkspawn front, I want them cleared from the arling; above and below. Some of you will be scouting the lands, others will map the Deep Roads below. I'm hoping we can find a path between the Vigil and Kal'Hirol."

Immediately, Drake and Hape raised their hands. "Ah, we can help ya there, Lady!"

Sigrun sighed. "If you're going to be Grey Wardens, use her rank. Call her Commander."

"Oh, right," Hape mumbled. "Sorry."

I smiled. "Don't worry, I'm not offended. And you're right, I will use you as your strengths dictate."

Bhenson audibly groaned. "I didn't join the Wardens just to be a bloody mason. I want to fight!"

I raised an eyebrow. "All of you will fight. I didn't recruit you because you're a mason's son. If I want masons, I'll hire them. I need people who can kill darkspawn."

He seemed mollified. "Aye. All right then."

Woolsey cleared her throat. "That is all well and good, Commander, but there are other priorities besides the darkspawn."

I stifled a groan of my own. "Very true. With the dwarves' arrival at Kal'Hirol, there's going to be a lot of merchants travelling around. I negotiated with Madison for help patrolling the nearby area, which should relieve the strain on our soldiers. As Darren mentioned, our focus there needs to be on upgrading the road infrastructure."

That seemed to satisfy her. Varel leaned forward. "Do you have any specific assignments, Commander?"

I nodded. "Let's get our new recruits Joined. Velanna, can you please organise that? Anders, keep your focus on the Architect's notes. We need to learn what we can from them in case any more like him appear. Oghren and Sigrun, I want you to plan out what you need for an exploration of the Deep Roads linking to the Vigil. Nate and Seranni, likewise, but for the surface. I will deal with the politics."

More than a few chuckles met that last sentence.

Bastards. All of them.

o_ooo000ooo_o

AN: Thanks to my reviewers – MB18932, Hydroplatypus, Pintsizedpsycho, Nightbrainzz, Obsidian85, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Revan Vakarian and Alifangirl21.

Sorry for the delay, my contract at work has been terminated, so I've been looking for a new role.

I've always wondered exactly why Oghren, with his attitude, ever landed a brilliant girl (his words) like Branka. Given that the Provings are essentially the dwarven version of professional sports, I don't think it's too much of a stretch to see him as a martial prodigy fallen low – like a rock star who still expects to be treated as such, relying on past glories.