I am very very sorry that it took me so long. Thanks for all lovely reviews, faves and alerts, and poking. :)

Big thanks to Seika for the beta :)

Blaze of Glory

Three hundred seventy five. That was the number of steps from the entrance, to the great Paragon Hall, as their proud dwarven guide informed them. Of course, that was while they were still paying attention. He was the first one to lose interest in the explanation of Orzammar architecture. The last one was their little leader, of course. Somewhere around step seventy. It was easy for anyone to notice the moment – the boy stopped asking questions, and responded only with an occasional bored 'Mhhm'. And that, he thought, was quite a remarkable achievement.

Although, the Paragon Hall was great and majestic, full of huge statues.

"Why are the statues so... squarish?" asked Airam, who studied them with great interest.

"They represent dwarven people, as we are," said the guide.

Airam looked at the man's round head... round nose... round ears... and big, round belly. "Right. Of course," he said sweetly. "How silly of me, not to see it immediately."

It wasn't easy to keep a straight face, but luckily the guide was not too perceptive. He continued to give them the detailed explanation of Paragons, and the sacred Stone.

Their little leader wanted to interrupt him, but the guide opened the big stone gate and they walked into the city itself.

Despite what the guide told them, he half expected the city to be dark, dirty and full of tiny houses. But this was...magnificent. Not as much as his beloved Antiva city, of course. There were no parks, no gardens, and everything was made of stone, but it was still impressive. And big. The roads were so wide that all in their group could walk side by side, and the big houses had tall doors and windows.

"Do you think dwarves are trying to... compensate for something?" he asked, once the guide had left and couldn't hear him.

Wynne shot him disapproving look. "We had better think of what we should do now."

"First, we should find an inn, and then Zev and Leli should go and see about this chaos that the gatekeeper told us about; I want to know how bad it is and-" Airam stopped, as a nearby group of dwarves started to argue and curse loudly.

Then one of the dwarves lost his patience. "I will not allow you to talk like this about the rightful heir to the throne!" he shouted, and the next second the head of his opponent was rolling down the street.

"... Well. That question is answered, then," said Airam, nervously watching the head. "Let's find an inn."

That proved to be much bigger problem than they expected. Wherever they came, the innkeepers started to shake their heads, saying that they didn't have any available rooms. At first, they thought the dwarves were just suspicious of them because they were strangers;it was obvious that they didn't get many visitors down here, and that they lived isolated from the world on the surface. When they were rejected at the fourth inn, Airam became really annoyed, and marched up to the innkeeper. He gave the man his scariest glare, and demanded an explanation.

"Do not lie to me, and tell me that you don't have any free rooms! I know for sure that the gates were closed and that there are no travellers here besides me and my friends. So there's no way all of the inns would be full!"

"You don't understand, messere. We have rooms, but unfortunately, I doubt they would be suitable for your company."

"Nonsense," snapped Airam. "I assure you, they will be very suitable. We're used to sleeping in all kind of places."

The innkeeper threw his hands up, defeated. "As you wish. Just don't come complaining later."

Airam beamed, and took the keys from the rooms. "Don't worry, we'll manage."

They learned what the problem had been, the moment they stepped into the rooms. Oh, they were clean and neat, and in much better shape than most of the inns at the surface. But...the dwarves weren't used to visitors of other races. So everything was accustomed to dwarven size. The tables, the chairs… the beds. They were wide enough for two, but short. Even his and Airam's feet would stick out of the bottom. Humans would not be able to sleep on it at all; for Sten it was a little more than a settee.

"Vashedan! I'm sorry, Sten. I had no idea... I should have known, it makes perfect sense, now that I think of it."

Sten's lips twitched into the slightest hint of a smile. "It is not your fault, Kadan. Do not worry."

They had to join the beds together. The innkeeper didn't like it at first; he kept grumbling that if new guests came, he wouldn't have free beds any more, but the few extra coins quickly changed his mind. Airam insisted on paying it from his private money. The innkeeper assured them that they would have the same problem in any inn in the city, but the crazy kid still took it as his personal failure as a leader.

Leliana offered to go and find out more about the situation in Orzammar - in last few days she had been trying hard to prove how useful she was. He suspected it was mostly for Alistair's sake, but as long as she was willing to do extra work, he didn't really care. Like now. She went to do her spying, which gave him he free time to train his little Warden. Who was suspiciously eager, as well.

"Good! There's something I want to show you! I've been working on it for last two weeks and I think I finally figured out how to – well, you'll see! And I bet you won't be able to defeat me!"

"Oho, those are very bold words! Hm. All right, I accept the bet. But if you lose, you have to cook for two weeks. Starting the day we're out of here again."

"Deal! Same for you, then."

The others didn't have any complaints. They didn't have Wynne's skill at cooking, but they were not as bad as Alistair, either. Or Sten. And it meant that both the Chantry boy and the Qunari would skip two turns. Morrigan approved, and loudly informed everyone nearby about it.

"It's the first time I'll try it in a real fight," explained Airam, eyes shining with excitement, as they walked to the backyard. "So have patience with me, will you? Wait till I say I'm ready. I know the enemies wouldn't wait till I'm ready, but you wait."

What is he going to try? Another thing he learned from memories of that spirit? He was quite curious, but he didn't show it, of course. "All right. Just this once. But don't leave me trembling in fear too long," he said mockingly.

Airam smiled. "Oh, don't worry, Zev, I promise I'll try not to hurt you too badly."

Tch. Crazy kid. He smirked and readied his daggers. "Bring it on, oh mighty Warden."

But the boy didn't react. For a while, he just stood there, silently and with closed eyes, completely focused on whatever it was he was doing. They had a rule – no improving weapons with spells and enchantments, so he knew Airam wasn't doing that; he took his training too seriously to break the rules like that.

Finally, the crazy kid opened his eyes and smirked. "All right, Zev. Come at me with everything you have."

Morrigan giggled.

Irritated, he attacked the boy with more force than he originally intended – but there was no need to worry. Airam easily pared his attack. And the next one, too. Then the next. After every time, his smirk grew wider and more smug.

"I'm disappointed, Zev. You better start taking me seriously, or the Crows will be the laughing stock of the whole of Ferelden."

"Not bad, not bad at all. You're now at the level of a Crow apprentice after a full year of training... that is, at the level of an eight-year-old."

"But how is he doing it? He wasn't this good last time I saw," asked Alistair, surprised.

Airam wanted to answer, but Sten cut in. "He trained," he said dryly.

Who would have thought that the Qunari has the sense of humour. He chuckled at the surprised look at the Wardens' faces. And used the opportunity to attack Airam. If the crazy kid thought he was on the level of a Crow, then a bit of dirty fighting should not be a problem any more. But Airam really was much better than just yesterday. He was faster, stronger, and avoided his attacks with ease. Wanting to test it further, he started to fight seriously, almost like with an equal.

Soon they had much larger audience, as the innkeeper and his family, staff and many guests in the inn came to watch, intrigued by the clash of weapons. The only one who did not come to watch, was Wynne. Even better, as far as he was concerned. But some of the people were observing his little Warden too carefully. He didn't like it; he didn't like it at all. It made him nervous and eager to end it.

That was bit too much for the boy. "Whoa! You finally decided to kill me, did you?" he asked, scrambling back to his feet after one particularly harsh attack.

"Ah, no need to worry, my friend. You still have to cook for two weeks, no? Until that time, you're safe."

"I'm not defeated yet!"

"No. You fought well, but it ends now." He folded his arms, trying to look as authoritative as possible. "And don't talk back to me, or you'll be doing sit-ups till morning."

Airam quirked his brow, but he didn't argue. "All right, all right. But I still say I'd win if we continued, so you'll be my aid for whole two weeks. And don't talk back to me, or you'll be Alistair's aid as well."

"Hey!" protested Alistair, as they walked back into the inn. "I didn't do anything; I even stayed quiet this time. What are you punishing me for?"

"What punishment? You would have the sly assassin at your command! Don't tell me it's not what you always secretly wanted."

"That was quite a show, Wardens," said one of the dwarves. He was one of them that had observed the fight too carefully. "Would you care for some more fun? I could arrange few duels for you, if you'd like –"

"We're not here for fun," said Sten. The dwarf looked up at him, and hesitated for a moment, before he went on.

"It would not be for free, of course, there's a nice reward if you win."

"We appreciate your offer, but our stay in Orzammar will be short, and our days too busy for that kind of fun," explained Airam politely.

The man didn't want to give up so easily, and followed them upstairs to their rooms. He would probably get in as well, if Sten hadn't decided to stand outside the door. "The room is too small for all of us," he declared with that hint of a smile again.

Well now. Few more months and he will probably laugh out loud. But right now he had more urgent thing to think about, yes?

"Explain," he demanded, once the door shut behind them.

Airam beamed. "It was great, wasn't it? I altered the normal flow of energy during the casting, first I desynchronized the cycles of reflection and materialization –"

"I said explain, not make it more complicated," he interrupted with a sigh. "You know very well that I don't understand magic. Keep it simple."

"Oh. Sorry. It means… uh… I transubstantiated my magic –"

"You what?" blurted Alistair.

Thank the Maker the Chantry boy is here. He'd feel like a total idiot if he had to ask again. Morrigan giggled.

"What he means is that he changed the very basics of how his magic works, changed it into something completely else," she explained, with a hint of awe in her voice.

"Yes," agreed Airam. "To put it very simple, I used my magic to become a warrior. Instead of casting spells, I refocused my magic energy to become stronger and faster."

"And what if you wanted to cast something during the fight?" he asked, still not sure he understood.

Airam shrugged. "No idea. I've never tried it in fight before. I think it would be possible, but it would probably take longer, depending on the spell."

"What about healing spells?" asked Alistair. "Would you be able to heal during such a fight?"

"I don't know. One person, probably yes. A whole group? That would take some time. I'd have to stop fighting and re-focus again," admitted Air. "But I'm sure the more I practice, the easier it will be to cast during fight. This was only the first try, after all," he added quickly.

Morrigan giggled again. " 'Tis quite possible indeed," she said with an amused smirk. "That would mean that to become a better fighter, you need only to become a better mage. You do not need the assassin's training any more."

A cold dread filled him. Brasca. He didn't realize it immediately – but it was true, of course. This was the first time Airam tried it. After a few more times, he would win. If he was this strong and dexterous he would finally be able to try some of the more complicated moves that he had seen in the spirit's memories. Think, Zevran. Find some reason why he can't stop training. Not that he wasn't happy for Airam, but… well, he wasn't. No reason to lie. He didn't want their training to stop. It was his favourite hour of whole day.

"But if it is magic, the Templar could dispel it, no?" He asked the first thing that made a bit of sense.

"I don't know," shrugged Airam. "But –"

"I could try it," cut in Alistair with a smirk. "Even right now."

"Try it and you're dead," snapped Airam. "But –"

"But, you're going to practice it until 'tis so perfect no Templar can use it?" offered Morrigan with another amused smirk.

Damned witch. Next time she changes into a raven, I'll pluck all the feathers off of her. He threw a murderous side glance at her, but she just smirked again.

"Of course," Airam sounded exasperated now. "But –"

"But it will take some time until it's perfect, so it wouldn't be wise to rely only on that, and stop training, yes?" he interrupted.

"BUT, if any of you interrupts me again, you'll have a freezing night!" snarled Airam, now really angry. "I wanted to say, that if I improve my fighting skills without magic and then use this, I would be soon stronger than the Archdemon itself! Well, at least I think so. So, I have no intention to stop training. In fact, I want to train even harder. You'll help me, Zev, won't you?"

It was really scary thought. He really shouldn't feel so relieved by the prospect of helping Airam to become totally overpowered… but he could care less. All that mattered was that he would be still able to spend time with his little Warden.

"Of course I will," he said fondly. Morrigan giggled again, but he chose to ignore her completely. "We'll test this in few real battles first. But you must promise me that you will not try to fight like this alone, yes? At least until we're sure if you can heal yourself, and how Templar skills will affect it. And even when you're not alone, wait till I allow you to use it."

Airam sighed. "You're such a killjoy," he complained. "I want to become an arcane warrior – that's the name I gave it, what do you think about it? It sounds good, no? But yes, I think what you say makes sense. I wouldn't want any of you to get hurt because of it."

"Yes, yes, so caring," chuckled Alistair. "Why don't I believe it? Perhaps because you threatened us with your magic just few moments ago?"

"That, my dear Alistair, is quite different. I am your leader, so it's my duty to discipline you if you misbehave," snapped the crazy kid haughtily. "But enough of this idle chat. I'm starved! Let's order some food and have lunch. I just hope the dishes are not half size, too."

It was good to know that their fearless leader had the right priorities.

oOo

The food was a satisfying amount and quite good; the ale was the best he ever had. Even the maids were pretty. Soon they were all in very good moods. Even Wynne relaxed a bit. Naturally, such a miracle could not last long. She was in the middle of a rare story that contained griffons, and was surprisingly funny – then again, maybe it was just ale – when Leliana returned. One look at her grim face was enough to ruin the mood and sober them completely.

Airam sighed. "Why do I have the feeling that you don't bring good news?"

"It might not be good news, but it's not hopeless, either."

"Meaning?"

"You will need to present your request to the Assembly – that is something like the Landsmeet in Ferelden. However, only the king has the authority to approve the treaty, and there is no king right now. Meaning, my dear Warden Commander, that you can get your army, but you will have to crown a new king of Orzammar first."

There was a moment of shocked silence.

"I thought you said it was not hopeless," complained Airam weakly, when his ability to speak returned.

Leliana smiled. "It is not. They only have two candidates for throne. It shouldn't be that difficult to choose which one you'll support. Were this in Orlais, or Antiva, there'd be at least two dozens of candidates."

Their fearless leader was still unconvinced. "But I know nothing about dwarves! All I know is that they are not aware that they look like walking snowmen, have the funniest looking beds I've ever seen and good food."

"Do not worry. You have an Antivan Crow and an Orlesian bard in your team, no? We will help you with the politics. Now, the first candidate is the prince Bhelen, son of the late king –"

"Then it's pretty clear, no? He's the heir, he will rule," said Airam quickly. "Problem solved!"

"Yes, but the other candidate is Lord Harrowmont, who was his father's best friend. The late king himself, apparently said he wanted him to rule instead of his youngest son. You see, he was only the third in line. But approximately half a year ago, the crown prince was murdered. The second in line, princess Sereda was found standing over his body. She tried to defend herself, claiming that it was Bhelen's trap, but there was no way to prove that she spoke the truth. She was stripped of her rank and sent to her death in the Deep Roads."

"I say let's make him the king. At least he proved that he's willing to do whatever is necessary. 'Tis what the Wardens do, is it not?" asked Morrigan. Alistair winced.

"So, the second candidate, this lord Harrow-something, he's the one that the late king wanted to rule? What's the catch, then?"

"The catch is that there is no proof about it, besides his own word. No one was there with him when the old king died. And he died rather suddenly. Official version is that the death of his two children broke him, but…"

Airam sighed. "So both of them are suspected murderers. No wonder they can't choose. How am I supposed to do it?"

"Maybe Zevran can help with it," suggested Alistair innocently. "He's the only one here with any experience in murdering people."

"Ah, that is true, my friend. But I am sure there are also other reasons why the king was not chosen yet, no?"

"Zevran is right," confirmed Leliana. "These suspicions are only the official reasons. The truth is, Bhelen is ambitious. He wants to return the dwarven kingdom to its past glory, beyond the borders of Orzammar. Those that see that as opportunity to increase their business, support him – that is, mainly merchants. Harrowmont wants to keep things as they are now, and he's supported by people who feel their position and influence would be threatened if Orzammar opened to other countries."

Sten frowned. "You basra have strange ways to rule your country. Do you see now, Kadan, what madness and chaos it causes, when people live without the order that the Qun brings?"

For a moment they all stiffened, expecting another rant on How Qun Brings Order, Stability And Safety To Any Society That Accepts It. Lately Sten had a habit of starting on it, whenever he thought that ways of other races were inferior. As half of their group were mages, and preferred not to have their lips sewn together, it was always a complete waste of time. Though it would be interesting to see anyone attempting to do that to Morrigan. From safe distance, of course.

This time, Airam just waved it away. "We don't have time for religious discussions right now, Sten. We need to find a way to solve this so we can defeat the Blight as quickly as possible, no?"

The Qunari really smiled this time. "You're not as shallow as you seem," he declared.

Airam blinked. "Thank you. I'm not sure if that's supposed to be a compliment, but I'll pretend it is," he said, heroically trying to ignore the snickers of Morrigan and Alistair. "Back to the topic, if you don't mind. So what do my two great advisors suggest? Who should I support and how? I can't just walk in to their estate and say 'Give me the army and I'll support you to be the king'… or can I?"

"You can, but they'd have no reason to take you seriously," explained Leliana patiently. "No, it will be much better to let them come to you, yes? For that, you need to be famous. Being the Grey Warden won't be enough. You need to be famous by dwarven conditions. That is, you have to be known as a strong warrior. The dwarves honour fighting skills above everything else. And you need to be famous before the next meeting of Assembly. Which is in three days."

Airam laughed. "That was an excellent joke, Leli. And now, please, talk seriously."

"I was talking seriously."

"Then you better think of something else. This is not possible."

But it is, no? In fact it is more than possible. And at least the crazy kid will have an opportunity to test his new ability. "Isn't it wonderful how things work out this way?" he asked. "You don't know it yet, Leliana, but our fearless leader is also a mighty Arcane Warrior."

The said fearless leader gave him one of his scariest glares. Too bad it didn't work on him any more. This suddenly looked like a lot of fun.

oOo

The dwarf that tried to recruit Airam earlier turned out to be a Proving Armsman, training young noble dwarves for the Trials of Blood. It was a tournament, the dwarf explained, the greatest one in the kingdom. Seeing as it was also the only one, it wasn't all that impressive, but he decided against saying that aloud. The dwarf was thrilled when he heard that the Warden Commander himself wished to participate; not so much when he insisted they wanted to see the opponents first. Blight or not, he was not going to throw Airam against trained warriors of unknown skills.

He calmed down when he saw the fighters. They were not that good, on a level of hurlocks, more or less. Their equipment was a bit better and they were strong, but most of the time their tactics only included letting an angry roar, and then rushing at their enemies while brandishing their huge axes. In fact, he felt a bit sorry for them. Airam was not a warrior, but he was the fearless, ruthless, crazy leader of their party. He had plenty of real battle experience by now, and knew how to avoid being hit by much bigger and stronger enemies. These young nobles, on the other hand, had probably never even seen a darkspawn before. Or elves.

Besides, the Armsman explained that the only rule in these fights was that the weapons and armours could not be enchanted; other than that, anything was allowed. Including magic. And that meant that if it proved too difficult to defeat the dwarves by blades, Airam could always switch back to magic.

It also meant that Airam needed new armour. Trying to find one that would fit his lithe build in Orzammar would be a waste of time, and there was no time for making a new one. Good thing Bodahn was not far away. A few hours later, they could choose from a dozen or so leathers. They would need a bit of tweaking, to really fit Airam's style, but any of them superior to what Orzammar merchants stored. Naturally, Bodahn was well aware of the fact, and didn't miss the opportunity to ask for a ridiculous price – he was only asking for his part of the profit he would make if the armour was sold, he explained.

"I think we should have a talk," said Wynne when she heard about it, pressing her lips into a thin line. "Give me a moment."

An hour and half later, she calmly informed them that the armour was for free. Who would have thought that her ranting could actually be useful? He felt bit more friendly towards her immediately. But knowing Wynne, he was sure that it wouldn't last long; he'd soon hate her again.

They spent the rest of the day waiting till the smith adjusted the armour, and sparring with Airam until he was so tired he couldn't stand on his feet any more. Only then did he have mercy on the little Warden, on the condition that he would not stay up late that night reading or studying. And as they were sharing the room again, he would be able to make sure Airam complied.

"Slave driver," murmured the boy angrily when they finally retreated for a night, and he confiscated all the books and locked them in his chest.

"You'll be grateful for it tomorrow. I'm waking you before sunrise, to train with your armour on. It's different than the robes; you'll have to learn how to move and fight in it. I still think it would be easier if you didn't wear the leggings. There's a reason why apprentices don't wear them, yes?"

"I'm not fighting half-naked," snapped Airam, "and I don't want to hear about it ever again."

He tried to convince himself he was only disappointed because he had Airam's best interest in mind. It didn't really work.

oOo

The fight was not in the main arena, but there were still about three hundred people that came to watch. At first, Airam didn't suspect anything. He was convinced that the people came to watch some other fight. Especially when he heard excited discussions about different fighters and bets who would make it into the tournament; he even commented what a pity it was they couldn't watch, at least he would learn bit more about how dwarves fight. It was only when some dwarf loudly commented that the surfacer didn't stand any chance, Warden or not, when he stopped.

"Excuse me. What did you say about the Warden?"

"Where did you come from, a nug shed? He applied for the preliminary rounds for the Trial of Blood."

"I did what? Zevran Arainai! Any last words before I kill you? Preferably about what is this supposed to mean."

Leliana murmured something about the toilet and disappeared, quickly followed by others. Airam stared after them incredulously. "They knew? They knew, didn't they? So I was the only fool kept in dark? When did you plan to tell me?"

"In a few minutes, in fact. Come, let's go to the dressing room we were given, and I'll explain. You can kill me then, should you wish, but I do recommend to wait till the fight is over, yes?"

Airam nodded and silently followed him to the room. "I'm listening," he said coldly when they were alone.

"They are the same four fights you agreed with. We – me and Leliana, we're the main culprits, but the others knew and agreed – we just didn't want you to get nervous about the audience. It is supposed to make you famous, so it cannot be private, yes? But we thought it would be easier for you, that if you knew you'd be too nervous to sleep and relax, and both. I swear to you, we didn't try to deceive you."

"I see. But please don't do such thing again. Never." Airam's voice sounded more disappointed than angry. A cold dread filled him. Anger he could deal with. Even if Airam freezed him, he wouldn't mind. The boy had every right to do it. But if he lost his friendship and trust...

"I... of course. Forgive me. I didn't mean-"

The boy waved his hand. "I know you didn't. So, how many people are here?" he asked with a pained grin.

He felt as if huge stone fell from his heart. "Not so many. Three hundred at most."

He didn't think Airam could get any more pale, but somehow he managed it. "I'm not sure if I can do this, Zev. How am I supposed to fight with all of them watching me?"

"Of course you can do this. You fought in front of audience already. Yesterday, for example. And you did more than well."

"But that was different," insisted Airam. "Yesterday I was fighting with you."

He quirked his brow. "And how does that make it different? There were still people watching you."

Airam's ears blushed a little. "Because, it made me forget about them. I was only thinking about –" he stopped, embarrassed. "About the fight," he finished lamely.

It caused a whirl of emotions in him. But there was no time to ponder about it right now. "Then do the same thing today. Focus only on the fight. Once you'll start fighting, it will be easy, you'll see."

The boy still didn't seem convinced.

"Look," he continued, "I wouldn't approve this if I didn't think you can do it. Go there and kick their assess. You'll be ridiculously awesome, and everyone will ask in awed admiration, 'Where did you learn to fight like that?' And then I'll proudly tell them that it was from me, of course. Yes?"

That finally made the boy smile a little. "You and a few thousand years old spirit," he grinned. "All right. I don't have much chance, anyway. But don't think I'll forgive you this so easily. I will punish you, I just don't know how yet. But it will be equally terrible as this mess. You'll suffer for weeks."

"Naturally. I do not expect anything less," he chuckled. "I might help you with ideas, if you wish. But come, we need to get you ready. Your fight will start in less than an hour."

oOo

One thing he always admired about Airam, was how well he could hide his emotions. Nobody would guess that this boy didn't like performing in front of an audience. If anything, most of the dwarfs must have thought that he was a reckless and arrogant brat. When the Armsman warned them, before the beginning, that in the preliminary fights it was not allowed to kill the opponent, the crazy kid sighed dramatically.

"Ah, that will be difficult. Wardens fight to kill, you see."

The other fighters didn't like it, but did Airam care? Of course not. He was practically asking for trouble. And dwarves were not ones to ignore something like that.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the preliminary fights, where it will be decided who will have the honour to fight in the Trials of Blood! This time we have a special guest who wishes to participate in the tournament! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Commander of Grey Wardens!" announced the Armsman.

Airam walked into the arena, beaming and waving, as if he was already a Champion of Orzammar. Where did the nervous side of him disappear to? He chuckled and turn to Leliana to comment on it, when the Armsman continued.

"In the first round, he will face two young fighters, sons of houses Garal and Hrildan! May the better one win! Let the battle begin!"

What?

"I thought this was supposed one on one fight," said Wynne coldly.

"It is not unusual to have one against two." The Armsman smirked. "I thought the Warden Commander is an experienced fighter. What is one more enemy to someone like him?"

"He is an experienced fighter, but that is not a reason for cheating," pointed Alistair.

"Now, now, cheating is an ugly word. It was merely a misunderstanding."

If Airam gets hurt, I'll tear this arena down. "And lanthrax is an ugly poison," he said dryly.

The Armsman folded his arms. "Are you threatening me?"

Yes, you walking ball of grease, I am. "I merely want to avoid future misunderstandings, yes?"

" 'Tis starting," warned Morrigan. They all turned to the arena again.

The two dwarves already readied their weapons. Airam, however, just stood there, not moving at all. The dwarves exchanged glances, obviously unsure what to do.

"What is he doing? Why is he just standing there like that?" asked Alistair nervously.

"He's casting," answered Wynne. "Wasn't he going to fight with daggers?"

"Maybe he changed his mind -"

"Are you two going to attack me, or do you want to simply admire me?" Airam's voice resounded through the arena. "Why don't you surrender so we can go –"

Where he wanted to go, they never found out, as the dwarves roared and rushed forward. They swung their axes, but it didn't connect; the weapons seemed to bounce back.

"Shield," murmured Wynne. "Efficient, but constantly draws magic energy."

"But isn't he using his energy to fight?" he asked.

Morrigan nodded. "He must end this quickly, or..."

She didn't finish, but her meaning was clear - if the crazy kid didn't end it soon, he wouldn't have any energy left, neither for fighting, nor for casting. He frowned. This was not good at all. But there was nothing he could do, except to watch.

Airam was fighting as if he had all the time in the world, leisurely parrying all the attacks. After every failed attack, the dwarves became more and more frustrated and confused, almost berserk.

"Clever," murmured Sten.

But too risky. He clenched his teeth. He could understand why Airam did it; it was similar strategy that he used when he was fighting Sten. But back then he was using his magic. Hm. The best way would be to take them one by one. But not directly. Trick them. The one to the left one first, he's faster but weaker and less skilled. And then focus on the other one. Alone, he shouldn't be that much of a problem.

Airam turned to the guy at the right.

No, not him, the other one! Brasca! He sighed. No, their fearless leader definitely wasn't a tactician. Ah well. As long as it worked, yes? And it did work. The dwarf shrieked in pain. A bit too much, in fact. The kick in the groin was unexpected, but it shouldn't hurt that much, in plate armour. Unless –

Leliana gasped "Did he just –"

"Use a freeze spell? Yes," confirmed Wynne, trying hard to sound reproachful, but her lips twitched in smile.

Alistair winced. "That was cruel."

"But 'twas effective," snapped Morrigan. "And hopefully it means there will be a few less fools in this world."

The dwarf's enthusiasm for the fight vanished completely; he obviously wanted to have it finished as soon as possible, so he could go and check the damage. The angry and mocking shouts and laughs from the audience probably were not helping, either. He attacked Airam, but his movements were clumsy and slow. The boy sidestepped easily, and kicked him to the shin. The dwarf staggered, but managed to keep his footing. Before he could straighten, however, Airam hit his back with the hilt of the dagger. He fell on hands and knees, almost cutting off his left hand by his own axe.

"So what happens now? Do you surrender or do I need to beat you until you're nearly dead? I'm sorry, but I don't know dwarven customs," said the crazy kid merrily.

"I surrender," replied the dwarf. The audience booed and laughed; someone threw what looked like a big half-eaten leg quarter of some animal. It landed right on the head of the poor dwarf. The audience laughed again and praised the good aim. Then other things landed just centimetres from the dwarf as he quickly ran out of the arena.

The other dwarf watched in horror, but Airam didn't pay any attention to it any more. Once again, he was standing quietly, deeply focused on something.

"He cancelled the shield," explained Wynne. "He's probably running out of energy."

Brasca. If it was true, it was bad. Very bad. Especially as the other dwarf looked really mad now.

"You are going to pay for that, surfacer!"

"Actually, I was told that the winner gets the money, not that he has to pay," quipped the crazy kid with a chuckle.

But the fight wasn't easy. Without the shield, Airam had to be much more careful. The dwarf was determined to avenge his friend and to prove to the audience that he was a proper fighter. Luckily, Airam was a bit faster and was able to avoid his blows, though it was a very close call at times. The dwarf was becoming impatient again, his blows wider and stronger. If it continued much longer, Airam would be in real danger.

The boy realized it too, and tried to sidestep the dwarf and get behind him. But the dwarf realized what he was trying to do and turned, blowing his axe. Airam shrieked in pain, and fell on his knees, dropping his daggers, rivulets of blood was flowing down his left arm. Certain in his victory, the dwarf lifted his axe for finishing blow.

No, he can't – it's forbidden – but he'll kill him! "NO! Airam!" If Sten didn't grab him, he'd jump from the balcony right into the arena.

Literally in the last second, Airam rolled a bit away and grabbed his daggers. The axe landed at the place where his head was just a second ago.

The dwarf cried in rage. "There's nowhere to escape! Surrender now, surfacer, or I will kill you!" He turned to Airam to hit again. But this time, Airam was ready. With a desperate cry, he drove his dagger into the dwarf's right thigh – the only place in his reach that wasn't protected by plate armour. Impressive.

Airam pulled out his dagger and picked up the other one and quickly got up. The dwarf was still standing and unwilling to admit defeat, but when he tried to attack, Airam stabbed again, this time in the right arm.

"Surrender," he said calmly. "If you fight like this, you'll cripple yourself for life."

He was right. And the dwarf realized it, as well. "I surrender."

"And the winner is – the Grey Warden!" announced the Armsman. The audience was too annoyed, and only a few clapped and cheered. Airam bowed a little, and then slowly walked to the entrance of the Arena.

They all quickly ran to meet him. He was sitting on the floor, leaning on the door to the arena. Wynne immediately gave him some potions and started to check his wound.

"You know, Zev," said the boy wearily, after he drank two bottles of lyrium potion, "I'm happy you believe in me so much. But the next time, please feel free to underestimate me."

oOo

The other three fights were not as bad, as they were allowed to fight as a team. Airam's injury was not as bad as it seemed at first, and after Wynne's healing he was able to fight again. Against him, Sten, Morrigan and Leliana, the dwarves didn't really stand a chance. It was a pity that he could not fight by Airam's side, but as he was registered as the team's trainer, it wasn't possible. And it also helped to calm down Alistair. It would not be appropriate for a future king to participate in events like this; he knew it and understood it, but it was still difficult for him to accept it, when everyone was having so much fun.

But it had the desired effect. The rumours of a group of surfacers, who were better in fighting than dwarves spread quickly across the town, and the exotic looking Warden Commander soon became the favourite of the audience.

The evening before their planned visit to the Assembly, the innkeeper came to tell them that they had a visitor. Vartag Gavorn, a lieutenant of the prince Bhelen would like to see them.