Chapter 56: Calling Nug Shit

Warden Sigrun

Considering all that had happened on our expedition: the alarming lack of darkspawn, being attacked by a queer construct that resembled a golem but more violent, being nearly blown up by Dworkin, having to rein in my desire to dress the Lord Lemink like a nug on a spit and finding a largely intact dwarven thaig with few signs of darkspawn corruption on the walls of the cavern, it did not surprise me that Nate and Oghren returned from scouting with the King of Ferelden and a human noble in tow. The king was dirty, his clothes were threadbare and he seemed strangely at home in the caverns which seemed odd. His manner was calm and he was not demanding for a noble. It was a welcome change from the stuffed shirt dwarven noble whose company we endured for weeks without spoken complaint...mostly.

What surprised me was the dark scowl on Nate's face as he brought the strangers into our midst and his silence was sharp edged, as if he would stab the man with it. The last time I had witnessed Nate behaving this way was in the weeks following my Joining. He was surly and silent with the Warden Commander, giving no arguments or replies except for curt nods to Lucasta to indicate an unwilling acceptance of her orders. When not with her, he would find a corner to stand in and brood silently while watching who came and went into the Keep.

Initially I wouldn't have known the sound of his voice if not for Anders' needling him with jibes whenever we ventured out of the Keep under Commander Lucasta's orders. Anders would push Nate to the edge and Nate would grind out curt replies in low, husky growls. I was accustomed to Anders' teasing and prodding, but I could see it was wearing Nate thin.

"Why do you bait him like that? Leave the man alone," I hissed at Anders while we walked along the Pilgrim's Path. It had been a trying day for us all and we had been following a variety of empty leads, trying to discover the secrets behind the talking darkspawn that had been plaguing Amaranthine.

Anders shook his head and his smile became strangely sad around the edges, "I fear what will happen if I stop, Sigrun."

"If you don't stop he could snap and stab you repeatedly until you are dead. His gift may be for the bow, but he certainly knows how to handle a blade with lethal precision and speed. You'd be dead before I'd have the opportunity to haul him off of you."

"Oh Sigrun, I didn't know you cared," he gushed with a teasing lilt in his voice, tweaking me on the nose and I felt the color rise to my cheeks.

"Not about you," I huffed, fighting down the combination of annoyance and embarrassment, "I care what happens to him and how he'd be punished for the lack of sense of one idiot mage. None of us would mourn if your incessant nattering were stilled."

Becoming more sober, Anders confessed, "I once knew a mage in the Circle, much like Howe. She was brilliant, capable, witty and strong. She went through her Harrowing without an issue. She had one close friend who she had been attached to since she had come to the Tower as a young child and the two were inseparable. Her friend's turn came a week later, but she did not survive. Kaia stopped speaking, she merely did as she was told, read books, immersed herself in her studies and went through the motions of living."

"Most of us gave her a wide berth, assuring ourselves that eventually she would tire of brooding, accept the reality of our lot and move on. It seemed inappropriate to trespass on her pain or try to encourage her to break her silence. It was not our place, you see. There were lines and considered niceties that we did not cross, to do so would be to become too close, too invested."

"One day, when she was practicing her summoning in the library, she unleashed something hideous. It destroyed a number of bookshelves and tables, injuring a number of the younger apprentices in the process; one was almost trampled to death. It took three mages to subdue and dismiss the beast. The damage to the library itself was not permanent, but it was extensive."

"The Templars immediately clapped her in irons and brought her before the Knight Commander. A number of us appealed on her behalf through Irving, explaining that she had been distracted and sad over the loss of her friend; therefore she had no concept of what she was doing and had made a miscalculation. She had not intended to put anyone in harm's way. We assured them and pleaded with them but they would not heed us."

"They could not make her Tranquil because she had gone through the Harrowing. In their eyes her emotional instability made her a potential threat to all in the Tower, so for our safety she had to be neutralized. They executed her and locked away her belongings and notes in a vault beneath the Tower."

"If someone had intervened and said something when the pain was still fresh, if we had tried to comfort her, draw her out or at least needled her a little to reassure her that life still goes on and ease the pressure of her own thoughts, perhaps it would not have come to that."

I had never heard Anders speak so seriously before and some of my annoyance dissipated as I tried to argue, "I understand what you're trying to say, but Howe isn't a mage…"

"Says the woman who just pointed out he could turn me into a large pincushion at the slightest provocation…" he interrupted flatly.

I sighed and Anders continued, "Howe is already on probation for breaking into the Keep. You've heard the gossip: Seneschal Varel and Captain Garevel both wanted him executed instead of being inducted into the Grey Wardens. What would happen to him if he truly should snap? I may not look it to you, but I have the means to defend myself if he should come at me and I would welcome it if it would help to lessen some of the latent rage that I see bubbling beneath the surface. I would be able to laugh it off and he might be able to calm himself…or he might hate me for the rest of his life…it is a gamble."

I couldn't deny Anders' worries, for they made sense, but there had to be a better way to address Nate's silence and encourage him to get over his anger, if only to make him feel better and banish the clouds that hung over him.

One night, when we camped in the Black Marsh to investigate the strange happenings there, I sat beside Nate at the campfire. The light of the flames danced across his face, but he still looked cold and it only appeared to increase the shadows under his eyes. It was like torchlight dancing across cavern walls in the Deep Roads where the color doesn't add warmth but increases the foreboding.

Screwing up my courage, I stated cheerily, "I'd like to extend my deepest thanks, Warden Howe."

The words shook him free from his moping and he turned to me, looking confused as I pressed forward, "You've certainly gone out of your way to make me feel at home."

Nate cocked his head to the side and asked, "How so?"

"Being a member of the Legion of the Dead, I'm accustomed to people behaving as if there is no hope. Our battle cry is, `We're already dead so it doesn't matter. Take the Blighters with us to the Stone!' Perhaps you'd like to adopt it as your own personal mantra? I'd teach you a few dirges if it would make you more comfortable."

"You wouldn't understand…" he spat.

"Then make me understand," I quipped, "Talk to me. I promise I won't breathe a word to anyone. Dead women tell no tales, after all."

For a moment he just stared at me. I almost expected him to get up and stalk off into the brush to relieve himself where he was certain I wouldn't follow or snarl that I should mind my own damn business.

Instead his shoulders stooped and he looked very weary, like he had been carrying a heavy burden. His words began slowly, as if he had forgotten how to use them after so long silent. He spoke of his father, of the shame he had to put up with and of the guilt over not being there to talk him out of the path that ultimately destroyed his family. He spoke about his anger over finding his childhood home filled with strangers who didn't care about the proud about the pasts they trampled over like clumsy brontos. He wanted to lash out at the unfairness he felt and he acted without thinking, going through the humiliation ending up in a dungeon cell, where he had been told as a child, "only bad people end up there. If someone is in the dungeon, they deserve to be there." It made him sick to think he was one of the "miscreants" his mother had warned him about.

He'd wished the Warden Commander had executed him rather than live the ongoing penance of accusing stares and people speaking his family name as if it were a curse.

Oddly enough this was not the first time I'd heard this type of story. It was a common one among the Legion. He was like Varlan and many of the other nobles who had lost their station due to politics or poor choices during a moment of anger. One moment you were living in the Diamond Quarter, and the next you were lower than a duster. He was a good man, he didn't deserve the death sentence we all had, but this was reality. Reality wasn't about fair.

When his bile was spent, he looked at me expectantly and I stared back with the frankness that I had garnered over the many times I'd heard stories like his, "You are right, it wasn't fair, it wasn't your fault…now what are you going to do about it?"

"Pardon me?" he demanded, not believing his ears.

"Your father is dead, you're not," I pointed out, "I've met many men in similar boots as yours and they all embraced the situation and made the most of it."

"They all threw themselves funerals and determined they would live as if they were dead," he spat angrily.

I chortled, "Do you honestly believe you have done any differently?"

He jumped up and started pacing, cursing under his breath, like he had forgotten me sitting there. Over time the pacing became slower and his sputtering slowly died as the moments passed. Eventually, when he was calmer I beckoned him back to the log for him to sit next to me again, which he did, leaning his head into his hands, saying, "How can I live if my name is dead? How can I go on if my honor is dead?"

"You do realize you are posing this question to a dead woman, right?" I clapped him on the shoulder, "Cheer up; no one loves a grump."**

His sudden bray of laughter sounded forced, "For a dead woman you are remarkably perky."**

"I could be less perky if you like. `The darkness of the Deep Roads is seeped into my soul. The world is dead, my heart is black. Alas. Woe. Woe!'"**

"Let's stick to perky,"** Nate suggested, with his first real smile. With that he sighed and excused himself to drain the darkstalker in private.

When he was gone I thought I felt eyes watching and I turned my head to catch Anders lying on his side on his bedroll, his head propped up on his hand and smiling smugly at me. Obviously he'd heard most of what passed and I braced myself for him to laugh at me, but it didn't happen. Without a word he blew me a kiss and winked before going back to sleep. He and I never spoke of it after that.

Looking at Nate glaring at the King while leaning against the cavern wall, arms crossed, it was like I was looking at the man he'd been before, the man I was certain he'd abandoned.

Oghren, as usual, was oblivious to Nate's mood since he possessed the attention span of a gnat. He introduced the King to us with the enthusiasm of a man introducing a long lost drinking buddy to his wife: "Well you rotters, this pike-twirler here is King Alistair of Ferelden, an old friend you might say…" then he made a careless gesture to the other man accompanying quietly at his elbow, "and this `ere is…um…didn't catch the name, Son…"

"Murchad Crewe," the man said, barely audible, seeming intimidated by Oghren.

"Speak up, Lad!" Oghren bellowed, his beard quivering, his braids catching some of the spittle as it flew with the exclamation.

The man cringed around the eyes and looked toward the King who bit back a grin and shrugged. Yeah, the King had to be a friend of Oghren's if he wasn't surprised. It was one of the few strikes against the King at that point, but no one's perfect.

"Anyway," Oghren plowed on like a pushy bronto, "they need our help. T'seems a group of Templars are using this old thaig as a prison mine to get lyrium."

"Is that even possible?" Temmerin interrupted, "Humans don't know how to mine and have no tolerance for lyrium."

"Such an act is an open invitation for war," sputtered Lord Lemink, "it nullifies the trade agreements and peace treaties Orzammar holds with the surface."

At that the King stepped forward and said, "I quite agree, however these Templars are doing this without sanction from the Chantry or the Landsmeet."

"If these actions do not have your sanctions then what are you doing here, King of Ferelden?" Lemink demanded, squaring off against the King, waving about an accusing finger, "When I return to Orzammar there will be a reckoning. King Harrowmont will demand an investigation and your treaties will be rescinded in answer to this outrage."

"Listen, you rutting deepstalker," Oghren blasted, cutting Lemink off and causing him to take a step back from Oghren's ale saturated breath.

"Please," asked the King, raising his hands in a defensive posture, "I am here as a prisoner and believe me when I say that I want justice done here as passionately as you do."

I caught Nate snorting at that comment, but he remained silent, his expression blank.

Seok came forward then and walked around the King once or twice as if examining him more closely without actually touching him, "It appears the rumors in Weisshaupt are correct. I can feel the taint in you. They had said the King of Ferelden was a Grey Warden, but I could scarcely believe it. This is unprecedented."

"He's a Warden?" Lemink squeaked, rethinking his previous accusations and losing some of his bravado.

"Aye," Seok grinned a little, I think he liked hearing Lemink brought down a peg or five, "He was crowned shortly after the Archdemon fell in Denerim. He was partially responsible for driving the darkspawn from the city. Not surprising, all things considered…were you not aware of the nature of the King of Ferelden, particularly since his kingdom is Orzammar's closest trading partner."

Lemink made a wave with his hand, "I pay no attention to human politics and I wasn't present when the dwarves marched with the humans on Denerim."

"Probably because you were too busy hiding with your house back in the Diamond Quarter while other people did the Ancestors proud," muttered Temmerin just out of earshot.

Seok looked about to say something when Nate cut in flatly, "Since King Alistair, the bastard son of King Maric, was formerly a Grey Warden he is no doubt aware of the Warden Stand regarding interfering in issues not directly influenced by the darkspawn threat as necessitated by the Dryden Mandate. We, as Grey Wardens, are not permitted to take part in any upraising that is political in nature," Nate nodded, his words harsher, "You definitely have a problem, your Majesty, but that is what it must remain: your problem!"

Nate's anger surprised me but the King remained calm, "If you are a Grey Warden of Ferelden, as your accent indicates, then you know what we faced on these shores. I am not a former anything since one does not cease to be a Warden even if one wears a crown for, as you well know it is in our blood. As for this not relating to darkspawn, you could not be more mistaken."

"Look around, your Majesty," Nate gestured with a sweep of his hand, "notice a distinct lack of darkspawn in this ruin. We have not sensed any since coming to this place."

The King continued unaffected, "Have you not wondered why, particularly considering the disaster in Amaranthine and the reports that Warden Commander Lucasta have sent me? Why are there no darkspawn here?! I have poured over those missives and reports in great depth and I am fully aware of what is supposed to occur when a Blight has ended. Darkspawn are supposed to return to the Deep Roads without the leadership of an Archdemon, and yet here they linger on the surface."

"Almost a week past, when I was being brought to this place, the travelling party was attacked by a darkspawn raid. This was on the surface, mind you, in an area that was barely touched by the Blight since the bulk of the Horde focused its numbers on the areas south and east of here. The Blight is a year gone and there are still above ground raids. Tis not merely coincidence, I wager. We have innocent people that need to be shepherded from these tunnels. Without your aid it would be a potential massacre if the darkspawn should take them unaware."

"How many people?" I piped up, suddenly considering the numbers of people trapped here.

"Over a hundred," the King answered, softening as he turned to me, "though the numbers vary by the day. These people are slowly dying and dwindling away their sanities with lyrium poisoning. If we don't move soon, these people will have no chance at all."

"This information is greatly troubling," Seok allowed, though I'd suspect it had more to do with the continued darkspawn surface raids than the people trapped in the thaig, forced to labor to death. He tugged on his gray braids as he considered what the King had told us.

"Do you have a proposed plan for how we might get these people out of the thaig?" This came from Voldrik who always considered the angles of a problem like he considered the weight of a stone. I could tell he was thinking about all the potential problems in his mind before throwing an opinion into the fracas.

The King sighed, like he was tired with all the explaining to a group of pushy dwarves, "It is my hope to cause a diversion of some kind. We want to both liberate these people and disable the entire operation to prevent them from continuing with the mine. I was toying with the idea of sabotaging the giant mill wheel that is being turned by the river that runs through the caverns. It isn't clear what its purpose is or what mechanisms are attached to it and I fear acting blindly in the event that it causes a complete collapse that could potentially endanger the very people we are trying to save."

Voldrik reacted with amazement, like he failed to hear the rest of it, "There is such wheel? I had read of descriptions of such wonders in the Shaperate that are used in mining thaigs. Heidrun thaig was once a mining center for our people, so it is not surprising that they would have had one but the fact that it still turns after so many years is immense. I must examine it for myself."

Lemink, the bloodsucking noble, thought only of the financial prospects, "I will not permit you to destroy such a vital part of our dwarven heritage. Consider the artifacts lost if you destroy the caverns surrounding this thaig. The mine is obviously rich in lyrium, since these renegade Templars, as you say, are going to such lengths to obtain it. This thaig needs to be reclaimed for the glory of the Ancestors and Orzammar. To collapse it would be blatant disrespect and should not be done without the permission of the deshyrs."

"So the fact that your House would probably claim trade rights does not influence your concerns regarding the restoration of this thaig?" Temmerin said under his breath, which I could only hear because he was just behind my shoulder, watching this whole exchange as I was. Either Lemink didn't hear him or ignored him for he made no retort.

"If you need a diversion, I have plenty of explosives," Dworkin winked at the King as he sidled up to his right. He could recognize an opportunity for a test whenever it reared its head.

"Nothing is going to be blown up because we are not becoming involved here," Nate exploded, taking charge of the discussion once again, causing everyone to turn toward him and away from the King, "I was chosen by Warden Commander Lucasta to lead this mission. We must adhere to the principles of the order and remain neutral in this obviously political situation."

"Open your eyes, Lad, this deals with the soddin' principles of the Grey Wardens. King Alistair already told ya' how the bleedin' darkspawn figure in. We can't just abandon him now, not when he needs our help." Oghren was once again oblivious of Nate's anger which was beginning to seethe dangerously.

Cold eyes bore down on Oghren, daring him to argue, "I was put in charge by our Commander of this mission or do you deny that?"

Oghren began to deflate, wary of Nate's words that were more frigid than a golem's tit, "Aye, Nate, you were chosen as leader."

"And did you or did you not promise to follow my commands in order to fulfill our mission?" his voice was quieter but hinted at more danger than when he was shouting.

"Aye, Nate, but…" Oghren said before being cut off.

"Then this is not up for discussion. I am sorry your Majesty, but as Wardens our responsibilities are clear. We are unable to interfere in this instance. If you will excuse me, I must scout the south tunnel and make plans for our prompt departure. Warden Seok, accompany me please." Without waiting for further reply, Nate turned on his heel and marched away. Seok raised his eyebrows quizzically to me, but followed dutifully as he was bid.

The King looked ready to bolt after Nate, perhaps to argue or perhaps to throttle him after such a power display, but Oghren grabbed him by the arm, "Let him go, Son. This is a fight you can't win that way. You don't have the clout with him to change his mind short of killing him." With that Oghren looked at me.

I knew what Oghren was angling for me to do but hated having to do it. I'd never appealed to Nate's friendship when faced with matters of protocol. I trusted Nate and his common sense, but I knew this wasn't about the Warden codes. Underneath there was something personal gnawing at Nate's balls and it had little to do with the reasons fed us.

After swallowing my reluctance, I jogged after Nate and Seok, trying to overtake them. With the heightened ceiling of the cavern, Nate strode a little faster and his irritation added to his speed. Each of his steps were worth three of mine and I had to call after him as we went around a bend and behind a broken down stone dwelling, "Hey Nate, pull back the reins on the bronto, will ya'?!"

Nate stopped, turned and glared at me as I scrambled to catch up. We had gone a ways by that point so we were out of both ear shot and could not be seen by those left behind.

"So, where is the brood mother?" I quipped, craning my neck to look up into my surly superior's eyes.

Seok requested before Nate could lay into me, "I would like to scout further east to confirm the markings from the old maps. Please excuse me, if you would?" After waiting for Nate's nod of dismissal, Seok walked away probably grateful he was not the luckless duster who Oghren had nominated to reason with Nate.

"Now that we're free from prying ears, what was that guff all about?" I asked, crossing my arms, communicating with my body language that Nate's explanation had better be good.

"I do not know what you are referring to," Nate evaded with a semi-haughty face.

"Don't play Lemink with me," I shot back, "I would never undermine you in front of the others, but now that we are alone I can identify nug shit for what it is."

"How dare you speak to me that way, Warden Sigrun," he snarled while he bent his head and leaned his entire posture to better glare at me.

"How dare you insult our friendship by pulling rank," I bullied right back, taking a step forward to communicate I wasn't backing down.

"It is my responsibility at the Warden in charge to prevent us from making a grave mistake," he insisted, pointing back the way we had come, "and believe me when I say that would be a grave mistake!"

"Really?" I pressed, "It's my responsibility as your friend to prevent you from making a noble ass of yourself and you're sure as stone not making that easy. Come on! Feed those poor excuses to a stranger and not someone who knows you as I do, Warden Nathaniel Howe!"

Nate growled at my using his full name, nearly howling with frustration, gnashing his teeth and turning his back on me, stomping up the tunnel a few paces until he could calm himself. He took deep breaths and hunched his shoulders, looking defeated.

"Sig," he finally rasped hoarsely, "he is King Alistair. He is one of the people who executed my father."

The shiver came of its own accord at these words. Nate confided in me long ago about his father and the crimes he'd committed. He accepted the fact that his father was a traitor to his country, especially with all his sister had told him about the time leading up to the Blight. None of this changed the fact that he loved his father and the King who was asking for help had killed him.

"I'm sorry, Nate," I walked up to him, placing a comforting hand on the small of his back where I could barely reach, but it seemed more appropriate than resting my hand on his ass. He did not shake it off or step away but chose to remain like that for a time, his head bowed, his eyes closed and his cheeks damp.

"I accept this is hard," I said softly, "but you know the truth. You once railed at me over the unfairness of being condemned for someone else's actions. There are almost a hundred innocent people trapped here. Can you condemn them to die over this grief over your father?"

"There is also the Dryden Mandate to consider, Sig," he pointed out.

I sighed, he was not going to let go of this as easily as I would have wanted, "you have acknowledged that this King…Alistair? …he's a Grey Warden. He made sound arguments connecting what is happening here to the darkspawn. We were sent here to investigate the Architect's possible influence. Though he admits there are rogue Templars imprisoning these people, it seems too convenient that there was a surface raid in this area. Am I wrong?"

"You are not wrong," Nate replied hollowly.

"Also, with these Templars running this mine here, eventually the darkspawn will attack them and these people since they are operating so close to the cusp of the Deep Roads. The presence of the Templars is getting in the way of our investigation and could lead to further darkspawn activity on the surface. Perhaps the darkspawn are going to the surface specifically because the Templars are here."

Nate nodded, listening to me but giving no sign that he was agreeing with my line of reasons.

"There are diplomatic reasons as well for the Order to be involved. The recent King of Ferelden has supported the Order, offering both provisions and a base of operations. If something were to happen to this King, what could potentially happen to our Order's support? Separately, Lord Lemink expressed an interest in the thaig and will take this information back to Orzammar. We must maintain the Warden alliances in both cases."

"So," Nate responded, finally turning to look at me, "You wish me to relent for these reasons that you have laid before me?"

As his friend I had to offer complete honesty, and I shook my head, "No. These are all good reasons, but they're not why I want you to do this."

"Give me your reason then," he prompted with a nod of his head.

"Do you remember when Amaranthine burned?"

He looked confused, as if he were unsure of what the past event had to do with our present problem, but he did not question, "Yes."

"Do you remember my response when Warden Commander Lucasta ordered us to stand down and leave any potential survivors to their fates?"

His jaw tightened with the memory of that dark day and he nodded sadly, "Yes."

"Do you remember what you said when I challenged Lucasta? How I pleaded to be allowed to go alone and save anyone I could find?"

"Yes."

"I feel like I'm at the gates of that doomed city again watching helplessly as it burned, as those people were consumed in the fire to stem the potential taint. Don't ask me to blindly turn my back on these people, Nate. I will stand with this King and the Dryden Mandate by damned!" I sounded angrier with these final words than I meant, but I couldn't help how I felt.

"You really feel that strongly," he whispered, "You would defy orders?"

"Yes, because I know it's right!"

He groaned, lifting his head to the ceiling, staring blindly at nothing, "Do you know what you are asking me to do, Sigrun?"

"I'm asking you to let go of the stone and walk on the surface even though you feel like you're falling into the sky."

The bark of his sad laughter was familiar. He always did it when he was about to gracefully surrender, "Remember, I am only doing this because you asked me to."

"Aye," I rasped, shaken by how deeply it touched me, "I appreciate it."

"I was far more prepared for Oghren to try to cajole me into this than for you to make this request. I could have withstood that far better." He again fixed me with his gaze, his eyes resigned.

"I'm entirely aware of that," I responded with a cheeky grin, patting him on his side, "Now come, fearless leader. We've got to tell our party that you changed your mind since you've discovered recent darkspawn signs in these southern tunnels that've caused you to wisely rethink your previous determinations."

He shook his head, allowing a brief smile to tug his lips, "Nug shit!"

**Dialogue taken from the game, Dragon Age: Awakenings and adapted to fit the story.