Author's Note: Wow. 100 reviews! Thanks everyone who's taken the time over the past few weeks to read this story! I am truly humbled by your response. The pace has slowed just a tiny bit as I'm prepping another one-shot, as well as a separate story for next month's NaNoWriMo. Updates will be Monday, Wednesday, Friday now.

Chapter 59 - A Brother in Peril

While Orzammar on the whole appeared built out of magnificent buildings, the Royal Palace was in a league of its own. As Vartag led them through the halls, Serena found herself marveling at the feats created by dwarven engineering. In place of paintings, the walls glittered with exposed quartz in radiant blues, purples and yellows. Great stone designs decorated the upper facade of the passageways, geometric and powerful. Lush carpets covered the stone floors, making their entrance quiet, despite the ten pairs of feet now trudging their way down the hall.

Vartag pushed open a giant metal door at the end of the hall, gesturing the party inside. Inside, the room was lined with bookcases, each containing hundreds of books each that sadly put the Arl's study to shame. A large writing table sat in the middle of the room, where a stocky blonde dwarf, the one from the courtyard argument, sat scribbling out a missive. Upon their entrance, he looked up and smiled.

"I find myself impressed with you Wardens." The man rose easily from his desk, his movements were the practiced motions of a lifelong royal. Behind him a painting of an older man, the late King Endrin presumably, from his obvious crown, stared down at them. "Not many outsiders so quickly grasp Orzammar's rather... convoluted politics."

"I, as I'm sure you must have guessed, am Prince Bhelen."

Serena curtsied to the man, bowing her head politely. "I am Warden-Commander Serena Cousland, and these are my companions and fellow Wardens. A pleasure to meet you, at last."

"Ah, yes, I apologize for Vartag's protectiveness, you cannot be too careful in these trying times." The Prince smiled at his steward, who was standing stoically in the corner, watching the proceedings with a pensive expression. "I must thank you for adding two more voices in favor of my ascension to the throne. While Lord Harrowmont was a trusted advisor to my father, he has spent his life in the Assembly. He knows only how to lead through compromise and capitulation. That is not what Orzammar needs."

"The darkspawn are amassing for a Blight," Bhelen continued, shaking his head. "I've heard scout reports that the lands topside have already been torn apart in the south... we cannot spend precious time arguing over the next king when we should be preparing to stop the darkspawn horde. Our kingdom has lost too much already to those monsters."

"I wholeheartedly agree, your highness," Serena replied, dipping another curtsy. "That is why we've come here, to humbly request dwarven aid against the Blight."

"Of course if I were King, I would give it to you immediately. The Assembly meets tomorrow, and with your help, I hope to secure the nomination quickly and end this stalemate. Lord Helmi and House Dace have already pledged their renewed allegiance to me, but I wonder if I couldn't trouble you for another favor." Bhelen moved to his desk, pulling out an old piece of parchment.

"The dwarven people are divided by a system known as castes. Each caste perform a service, the Warrior caste houses many of our finest fighters, the Smith caste our finest artisans, et cetera. The lower castes, while somewhat looked down upon, are nothing compared to what we call the 'casteless.'"

Serena found herself nodding absently at the prince, her mind beginning to wander during the dwarf's exhaustive explanation of Orzammar society. Staring at his face, she wondered if it took him very long to style his beard into such an intricate pattern of braids.

"They are families, people, born without a rank, with no jobs to do. Many turn to crime, and unfortunately, they have begun to amass quite a following in the area referred to as Dust Town." He tapped a section of the map with a thick finger.

"The carta must be shut down, not simply because to do so would save many lives and numerous coin, but, well, this is a bit personal." Bhelen looked to Vartag, who nodded encouragingly. "My... brother-in-law was casteless, you see, before his sister bore me a son. My gathered intelligence has led me to believe he is being held by the carta's leader, a vicious woman named Jarvia, possibly for ransom. If you could recover Faren for us, as well as eliminate the carta for good... well, I would be in an excellent position tomorrow at the Assembly, with you Wardens as my champions."

"Of course, your highness." Serena exchanged quick looks with Alistair. He looked just as exasperated as she felt about being used to do the prince's drudgery, but was it really that much different than the elves? Or the templars? She sighed. "We'll head to... Dust Town and see what we can uncover."

"Thank you, Commander. I hope you find Faren in... good health." He grimaced slightly, turning to Vartag. "Please show them out and provide the Commander with a map of Orzammar and anything else they will need. I'll have Rica set aside rooms for the evening upon their return."

"Of course." Vartag bowed his dark head to the prince, and then led Serena and the others out again. Behind them, Bhelen began to pace.

"The Prince underplays it, Commander, but Faren's safety is our utmost concern in this," Vartag explained. "The sooner you can find him, the better." He handed her a roll of parchment and shook her hand. "May the Stone guide you true, Commander."

"Commander now, is it?" Alistair grinned crookedly, his eyebrows practically in his hair.

"He's a prince, I thought it might... help us command a bit more respect than just 'Warden'. Plus, I sort of am the Warden-Commander, since you didn't want it..." Serena pushed at him playfully. "Bet you're regretting that now, hmm?"

"Hardly," Alistair replied. "Bastard prince is enough for me, thank you very much. So I imagine I have to start calling you Commander, eh?"

Serena grinned. "Only when we're around company, dear."

"And so now we're running errands for the dwarves." Morrigan's voice was uncharacteristically flat as she walked beside them, as if she already knew arguing against it would be fighting a losing battle. Serena noticed Alistair fall back to speak with Zevran; he was still avoiding the witch, apparently.

"It would appear so." Serena glanced sidelong at the witch. "It isn't like we have anything better to do. The Assembly doesn't meet until tomorrow, and I don't know... you look like you've been itching for a good fight anyway."

"I am simply growing tired of being Daisy Do-Gooder, Serena," the witch snapped. "Perhaps you and the human noisemaker enjoy helping people for the sake of it, but it is against my basic instincts to simply go around assisting every person who comes crawling out of the woodwork."

"I suppose you have a point," Serena conceded. "Wait. Did you just refer to Leliana as a human noisemaker?"

Morrigan smirked. "Caught that, did you?"

"Just barely." Serena rolled her eyes as they picked up the pace heading back into the area called The Commons. Even now, she could hear Leliana strumming softly on her lute as she walked. "It's good to see you not frowning for awhile, at least. Even if it's at the expense of our pride."

"She has heard worse, surely, playing in filthy taverns and such," the witch replied. "Anyway, you bade me tell you if I found anything of interest in my mother's grimoire."

"Oh yes! I did say that. I guess it's been a few weeks so I forgot. What have you found?"

"Flemeth taught me many spells, as you know, but her book contains a few... enhancements, I suppose you could call them. For example, I have now learned how to use lightning in a way that it will fork off one body to strike another." Morrigan held up her hands, rubbing them together excitedly. "Shall I do a demonstration?"

Serena glanced around quickly. "Ah, no, maybe not right... here. Perhaps when we reach the surface and there's a big open glade we can, uh... set aflame-"

"News of the hour: Lord Harrowmont entrenched in the past! How long can he ignore that Orzammar must change to survive?" A brown haired dwarf with a thick grizzled beard was shouting loudly as they passed by. "Prince Bhelen is the voice of change and defense! Lord Harrowmont is the voice of stagnation and ruin!"

"Well, 'twould seem we chose wisely then," Morrigan drawled, rolling her eyes at the crier. "I cannot imagine how I would feel lying awake at night thinking we supported the voice of stagnation and ruin for these tiny, tiny people."

"They ought to support whichever candidate can reach things from the top-most shelves," Zevran remarked, strolling along at the witch's other side. "Or perhaps whomever has the most ladders?"

"I heard another dwarf back the ways say something like 'Lord Bhelen eats puppies, support Harrowmont for king.'" Alistair grinned. "I thought dwarves just ate those little pink pig things?"

Serena giggled. "What pig things?"

"You know, those little... oh, there's one!" Alistair pointed to a strange pinkish animal, halfway between a pig and rabbit. "They're all over the damn place, hiding behind garbage bins and things. I don't know how you could have missed them. They squeak like mad."

"Charming," Morrigan said, scowling at the animal. "'Tis the equivalent of eating cats from the streets of Denerim."

"Nah... have you seen Denerim's cats? They're very scrawny. No meat on those bones." Alistair glanced over his shoulder at the pink animal. "I heard they taste like chicken, actually."

They had only walked a few more paces into the Commons before they stepped right into the middle of two shouting dwarves.

"It'll be two years tomorrow! By all the holy sodding ancestors, how can you people just ignore that?"

"Branka didn't go alone, Oghren. She took the whole house! Everybody but... you." The second dwarf crossed his arms smugly over his chest, as if he'd just made some significant point. "So just get over to Tapsters and drown yourself already. You know as well as I do that's how this always ends, anyway."

The ginger haired dwarf, Oghren, grunted in reply, his face flushing angrily. "You think I'm afraid of some... cub warrior who's barely off the teat? Ha! I'll-"

"You lift a weapon, or attack a single citizen in Orzammar, and I'll have you stripped of your caste, you hear me? Exiled!" The stockier man was bellowing now, his patience long gone, and Serena and her companions looked at one another uneasily. "Even you can't have forgotten that! Now get out of here before I call a guardsman!"

Oghren made a rude hand gesture at the blonde before stalking off, banging his great sword against a group of bins as he passed by. A few more of the pinkish bunny-pigs hopped out in alarm, squeaking wildly. "Sodding nug-licker!" the dwarf called back over his shoulder.

"Nugs!" Alistair smacked his hand to his forehead. "That's what they're called."

"If this carta is so secret, how do we, uh, go about finding out way in?" Alistair glanced around them, his eyes flipping up from the piece of parchment Vartag had given them. "Dust Town is just over there, if this glob on the map is any indication, but it looks nearly as big as the Commons here..."

"We could ask around, perhaps?" Leliana suggested. "Surely someone knows of this Jarvia woman."

"And get a knife in the back for our trouble, I imagine," Zevran said. "If she runs the carta, it's with an iron fist, and I doubt anyone would be willing to open up to a bunch of strangers for fear of losing a tongue." The assassin paused, his face looking thoughtful. "Our best bet is to find someone who has been run out of the carta, I think. They would have a chip on their shoulder, and could maybe be persuaded by coin."

"We could persuade them by steel if coin doesn't work," Sten said.

Serena rolled her eyes. "Haven't killed anything in a few hours, eh, Sten?" The giant's mouth quirked slightly and Serena smiled. It was nearly impossible to get any emotion out of the huge man, other than disdain, of course, which he supplied in mass quantities.

"So, I've been hearing rumors that a certain wine merchant is falling behind on his payments." A tough-looking dwarf and his associates pushed past their group, singling out an older man who was sweeping the front of his shop.

"I do not even want to think from what manner of substance a cave-dwelling people would create their spirits," Morrigan murmured disgustedly, glancing over at the group. Her golden eyes snapped between the old man and the younger thuggish-looking dwarves and Serena found herself drawn there by the witch's interest alone. Morrigan never found the common goings-on of a city interesting, unless it involved violence.

"I... can't imagine what you mean," the gray haired dwarf replied, shaking slightly. The sign above him said 'Gadnar's Finest Liquors'. Serena guessed he must be Gadnar. "I pay my expenses-"

"What about the expenses your good friend Jarvia incurs when providing your protection?" the thug countered. "It's not easy ensuring nothing bad happens, that no one decides to just... burn everything in your store..."

"My store!" Gadnar cried. "I don't have much. Business isn't so good... people are scared... T-tell Jarvia I'll get her money, I-"

"Jarvia's not happy with your promises, old man," the thug said, and the menace in his voice was palpable. "Now, let's go inside and see what you've been holding back." Without another word, the thugs pushed the old man back into his shop roughly.

"Did he say Jarvia?" Serena whispered.

"He did, indeed," Morrigan confirmed, nodding. "'Tis our lucky day, 'twould seem."

"For once." Serena put out a hand, signaling the group to stop. "Morrigan, Alistair, Alim, come with me." She pointed around the side. "Zevran, take everyone else in through the back, I don't want them getting out." The elf nodded, leading them quickly around the side of the building.

"What are we planning on doing?" Alistair asked.

"Why, we're going to get ourselves a little information."

Putting her ear to the door, Serena could hear the older dwarf inside. There was loud crash of some bottles falling, or being thrown, to the floor.

"T-this is all I have right now!" Gadnar's muffled voice begged. "I could get more, maybe, if I sell something, but-"

"Oh, enough of this," Serena muttered, pushing the door open. The shop was relatively large, with a tiny bell that rang to alert Gadnar to potential customers.

"Well, well. Looks like we have some visitors." The dark haired dwarf eyed Serena and the others, his facial tattoos making him look even more menacing than his thick armor. "Friends of yours, Gadnar?"

Alistair stepped forward then, and Serena could see his height intimidated the thugs, if only just. "Is there a problem here, friend? Are these men threatening you?"

"Oh, please! Don't get involved with this!" Gadnar looked from Alistair to the tattooed leader. "You d-don't know what they're like!"

"Then allow me to make some introductions," the thug growled. "These are dangerous times in Orzammar, stranger. Lucky us, the merciful Jarvia is offering protection from the chaos." His beady eyes flickered to Serena. "You're wearing some fancy stuff there. Might make you a target."

"A target for who? This Jarvia woman?" Serena strolled up the thug, who she easily had a foot on, at least. "Should I be frightened of a woman who sends minions like you to scare poor merchants in exchange for what I'm sure is probably only protection from you?"

"You've got a big mouth, girly," the thug replied. He pulled a short knife from his gauntlet, and Serena found herself marveling at the brilliance of keeping a blade so close. She'd never thought to keep one hidden in her glove... "Maybe you ought to keep it shut unless you want me to cut it a bit wider for you?"

"I'm more interested in seeing you talk, actually." Serena pulled her own dagger, the tip shining brightly right in the dwarf's face. "You might even live after this, who can say?"

"That sounded like a threat," the thug scoffed, his eyes on Serena's blade. "Am I supposed to be frightened of a walking stick like you?"

Alistair laughed. "Quite truthfully... yes. You should be."

"Fat chance, cloudhead. I'm gonna carve up your lady here like a nug." The dwarf slid the tiny dagger in his hand and thrust it forward towards Serena. She moved to block as an arrow flew through the air, skewering the advancing man through the eye. Gadnar yelled, diving to the floor behind his register as Serena stepped back, the dwarf falling forward at her feet.

"Excellent shot, Leliana," she called over her shoulder. Serena grinned savagely at the remaining thugs. "Now, who wants to tell me where I can find Jarvia, and who wants to end up a pincushion like your little friend here?"

Jarvia's reach ended up extending all over the area called Dust Town. After what seemed like an excessive display of force, namely three more dead dwarves, Jarvia's remaining minion had broken down and thrust over a small token, a key, that had been fashioned out of a dead dwarf's finger bone.

"Our tiny little friend said the carta switches entrances often, so perhaps we should just... try whatever makeshift door we find with a finger-shaped hole in it?" Alistair glanced around, his face scrunched up in distaste. "Lovely place, really. The uh, blood really improves the decor."

Dust Town itself was not an actual part of Orzammar proper, built to cordon off the casteless from the rest of the city, but rather a series of tunnels, reclaimed from the mines and converted to a near shanty-town. Beggars scrabbled into corners as they passed, like insects scattering from the light of day. The buildings, those of which that still stood anyway, were pot-marked with damage from fights and street brawls.

"If ever there was a seedy underbelly to a city, it is this Dust Town. Notice how the street goes from relatively clean carved stone to simply... packed dirt? Oh, and the smell." Zevran breathed deep. "Yes... yes, that is really quite horrible."

Alim laughed though his dark eyes were thoughtful. "This honestly makes the Tower look like a palace. I wish I could paint a picture of it to take back to my friends..." He shook his head. "It is truly disturbing to see how bad things can get."

"Ah, you didn't see the tower when there were abominations running about it. Now that was bad," Alistair said, grimacing. "Big, bloody postules growing up the sides of walls... demonic goo everywhere... Burned up husks of bodies just lying on the floors..."

"Templars cowering in fear, or else under the spell of desire demons, ready to suck out their souls through their mouth." Morrigan flashed a savage grin at the two men. "Sounds like fun now."

"And the moral of that story is: Don't do blood magic," Serena said. "Or you get your soul sucked out by Morrigan."

"Which sounds terrible, indeed," Zevran replied, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at the witch. "Are you quite positive you wouldn't suck my soul out of anything else?"

"Watch your tongue, elf, I bite."

"Even better!" the assassin called playfully, running his fingers along a wall carefully. Serena assumed he was searching for a notch in which to place the finger bone token.

"I wonder if Orzammar has a brothel?" Serena murmured. "Sounds like you lot have some issues you need to work out."

"Not all of us engage in such rigorous nightly workouts, Serena," Zevran countered, his amber eyes flashing. He pitched his voice higher, mocking Serena's much more feminine tones. "Oh, Alistair... You're the sexiest Grey Warden I've ever... oh, sweet Maker!"

Serena laughed, though her cheeks were bright red in embarrassment. "How else are we supposed to stay in shape, hmm?" She saddled up to Alistair, slipping her hand into his. He remained silent, appearing to take the moral high road in this discussion; although Serena thought more likely he couldn't come up with a good comeback to their teasing yet. His cheeks were nearly as red as hers as he squeezed her hand back.

"Nobody needs that much exercise," said Leliana, smiling at the pair.

Morrigan scoffed. "You have never watched them eat then. 'Tis like two famished horses back from a ride..."

"Serena sure likes riding-" Zevran began.

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you, Zev," Alistair cut in, holding up a hand. "She's a pretty girl, but you do not want to make her angry."

"Perhaps you are right, my good friend Alistair." The blonde assassin said, slowly nodding, his eyes on Serena. "Surely I should save some teasing for when we are back on the surface..."

"That's a good man," Alistair said. He stepped away to follow Zevran down a short alleyway, calling back soon. "Dead-end again, I'm afraid!"

Serena sighed heavily, moving on to the next turn in the road. A group of small hovels, seemingly abandoned, leaned heavily against a stone wall, and out of the shadows popped the head of one of the squeaking little nugs. Nosing gently towards her, Serena reached out with her senses in an effort to calm the animal.

"Come on, I won't hurt you..." she cooed, leaning down. "You're a bit small for a nug, aren't you? Probably why nobody has bothered to eat you yet." The tiny pink mass hopped forward, cheeping softly until she gathered it up. "Hey, Leli, weren't you saying how cute you thought these were?"

"Oooh, it's one of those subterranean bunny-pigs!" Leliana happily took the nug from Serena, cradling it gently in her arms as she snuggled it close. "He's snuffling me! Snuffle, snuffle!" The redhead grinned as she held the nug up to Sten for inspection, who frowned at it. "Isn't he delightful?"

"No."

"I think I'll name him Mr. Schmooples!" Leliana said, ignoring Sten. "And he will be my new best friend." She turned her pack around and placed the tiny nug in a side pocket, where it immediately curled up in a ball. "Please do not poo in my pack, Mr. Schmooples."

Serena snorted with laughter. "Mr. Schmooples?"

"May I remind you that your hound is named Peanut," the giant rumbled. Beside Sten, Serena's mabari barked at the sound of his name, wagging his tiny tail.

"Hmm, you've a point," Serena conceded, scratching the massive dog between the ears. "It's a strong name, though, don't you think? Peanut. Very masculine."

"I like Mr. Schmooples," Alim said. "Reminds me of a cat one of my friends in the Tower had." He reached into his pack and pulled out a small bag of roots and handed them over to the bard. "In case he gets hungry." Leliana grinned at him and fed a few of the roots to her new pet, cooing all the while.

"Serena!" Zevran called from across whatever could be called a street in this place. "I believe we have gotten lucky at last!" Joining them, Serena handed him the finger bone key and he pushed it into a slot barely bigger than her own little finger. There was a soft click and the wall slid to the side to reveal a tunnel. "A miracle we noticed this at all, truly."

They stepped into the tunnel hesitantly, heading slowly down the rough stone stairs. The tunnel was much cooler than the city above, probably from the lack of open lava streams that seemed to provide Orzammar with much of its light and warmth.

"Are we... descending further underground?" Morrigan asked, lighting her staff partially as it quickly grew darker. The glow washed around them in the tunnel, throwing heavy shadows every which way as further back Wynne and Alim both lit their staffs as well. "The thought of so much rock over one's head is... disquieting."

"Makes you miss the swamp a bit, eh, Morrigan?" Alistair jibbed. "Don't really need to worry about a rockslide out there."

"Let's not talk about rockslides down here," Wynne said cooly, her eyes glancing nervously about the tunnel. Slowly the walls began to carve into the familiar geometric designs, the stone flattening out into a walkable path. "For a tiny people, they certainly are industrious, aren't they?"

"This must be the carta hideout," Serena breathed, pointing ahead to the door. She pulled one of her daggers and knocked on the door.

There was the scraping sound of stone moving and two dark eyes appeared. "Password?"

"Uh... Dust Town forever?"

The dark eyes rolled over her in a quick inspection then disappeared as the peephole closed and the door swung open.

"I can't believe that actually worked," Alistair whispered. "Who would make that their password?"

They shuffled into the darkened room, Serena squinting to adjust to the flashing lights as the mages staves flickered against the odd angles of the room. The floor was cramped with what looked like wooden crates and barrels as Serena nearly tripped forward, Alistair reaching out to steady her.

"I didn't really expect to get in so easily," Serena murmured. Behind her, one of the mages, she thought maybe it was Alim, stepped into the smaller room she was in and it flooded with light, illuminating the bodies on the ground. "Oh, no..." Serena gasped as she realized she was standing in a thick puddle of congealed blood. "Oh, Maker... no... What happened?" She felt Alim's hand on her shoulder as the door they'd just came through slammed shut again.

"They were dwarves who decided to cross Jarvia and the carta," came a deep voice. A man stepped out, his eyes staring at them like two big black holes in the middle of his face. Two other dwarves appeared behind him, weapons bared. All three had the facial tattoos that marked them as the casteless.

"If we could do that to our own... what do you think we're going to do to you?"