The contingent from Orlais—made up of Grey Wardens from both Jader and Montsimmard—was something of a mixed bag. Some of them were pricks, some were friendly, and a few were too friendly. All of them were very, very Orlesian, which wasn't particularly a mark in their favor in Carver's opinion. Not that anyone had asked him.

They were yet another group here to hunt for yet more talking darkspawn at the order of the First Warden. Once a scout found a promising lead for one of the remaining Disciples, Adara wrote to Weisshaupt to inform them. A whole gaggle of Grey Wardens would show up shortly thereafter. Carver wasn't sure why Adara waited until they arrived, but she didn't seem overly fussed about the erstwhile Disciples for unknown reasons. He knew she had dealt with their leader—the Architect—a few years ago. Maybe once someone has met one talking darkspawn, they've met them all. Carver couldn't imagine what a darkspawn might have to say, and he didn't care to listen anyway. If it mattered so much to the First Warden to catch one alive, then he supposed that the First Warden's people could be the ones to come and deal with it.

Carver had no intentions of taking any darkspawn alive.

That was part of why he was slightly annoyed to have been sent along, but he planned on killing enough of them to make up for the First Warden's frivolity. Maybe Adara had noticed him growing restless in the Keep, or maybe she trusted that he would make sure Jowan stayed alive in her stead—which he would graciously consider, so long as Jowan minded his own business. Carver also didn't like leaving Adara's side, but the weeks had been quiet since Zevran left in search of more answers. Life had to go on, such as it was.

This little venture took the Grey Wardens nearly a week's journey north along the coastline. The bulk of their party made camp while Nathaniel and Maylis—the Orlesian commander—scouted ahead. One of the Orlesians brought out some kind of dice game, but Carver ignored them in favor of inspecting his sword's edge for the hundredth time. It could still use sharpening, he decided. His thoughts wandered while he worked, but he tried not to let them wander too close to recent memories of the very thorough goodbye Adara had given him. That would not help him keep clearheaded for the fighting to come.

The rest of the wardens chattered: "You should see Verchel at Satinalia," one of the more annoying Orlesians was telling Nolan and Leo. "The bakers sell thousands of these little red candies, like cherries, and it's a game among the women to collect the most of them. They get them in exchange for baring their breasts, you see. Just… tits everywhere. It's like a dream."

"Maybe the commander will give us some leave, and we can go see for ourselves," Nolan said. "We'll have Hawke ask for us, try to butter her up."

Carver tried not to make a face upon hearing his name and knowing that he was being dragged into a conversation he did not want to have. "Dunno why you think that would help," he said with a shrug, carefully not looking up from his work.

Nolan snorted. "You can't really think we haven't noticed you creeping in and out of the barracks at all hours for the last month, all disheveled. You're as loud as a bronto."

"What can I say, Nolan, your mum likes me."

Nolan put a hand on his chest and let out an affronted gasp. "My mother is a saint, ser. Last I checked, she didn't live in the commander's wing either."

Maker. Fuck. Carver could feel his face reddening. There was really nothing for it but to pick up a rock by his boot, throw it at Nolan, and then go back to his whetstone. Comrades bantered, and getting visibly worked up over it would only make it worse.

Nolan and the Orlesians went back to chatting about tits, and Carver thought he was going to be left alone until Jowan spoke up. "You make her really happy, you know," the mage said, too quietly for the rest to overhear.

"Didn't ask you," Carver said.

"Maker only knows why," Jowan muttered, almost to himself. "First I just wanted to thank you."

That was a little weird even for Jowan, so Carver actually looked up from his sword and raised a brow. Jowan picked at the palm of one of his gloves. "I can't remember the last time I've seen her smile this much. Definitely not since… uh, the Blight."

Since your blood magic got a shitload of people killed. Carver didn't want to say that out loud in front of the other Grey Wardens, so he hoped that his glare spoke well enough for him. Cowed, Jowan looked down at the ground, and Carver hoped that was the end of that.

It wasn't. "But listen. When they first brought her to the Circle, she cried day and night. A lot of them do. A few of the older kids started teasing her, and I punched one of them right in the face. Got in a lot of trouble for fighting, but Adara and I were pretty much inseparable after that. Even though it was her defending me most of the time." Jowan paused and took a deep breath. The look on his face said that he didn't actually want to be speaking, but he pressed on anyway. "Because that's the thing you need to understand about Adara. Once she claims you as someone she loves, there is nothing she won't do to take care of you, whether you want her to or not. Whether it's good for her or not."

"What is your point?" Why are you still talking to me, Carver thought.

Jowan fidgeted, bouncing one leg. "I know I don't have any room to talk here, but… you better be worthy of it. She's been through enough. That's all."

Carver was so flabbergasted that he forgot to be annoyed. "Are you… giving me the 'hurt her and I'll kill you' talk? Is that what's happening right now?"

"Um. Yes, I suppose I am."

Carver stared at him with consternation for a moment. Then he grunted and went back to focusing on his sword and whetstone. The grunt was not entirely negative, which was about the best response that Jowan was going to get out of him.

"With all due respect, my lady—"

Maker sodding damnit. Adara tried not to show how irritated she was to hear those words, keeping a placid expression on her face. Her hands were folded together and rested in her lap in an effort to resist pulling at the high collar of her gown. She hated the way the fabric sat against her neck.

"—you are still new to Amaranthine and how we do things here. How we've always done them," said Bann Casamir.

"Please do enlighten me, then," Adara said.

While the bann launched into a lengthy history of his family, Lord Reed's family, and the veridium mine whose ownership they were disputing, Adara tried not to let her eyes glaze over. Maker, she hated doing this. Seneschal Garevel and Mistress Woolsey handled most of the minor disputes and the day to day running of the arling, but it was still important for everyone to know that the final word sat with the arlessa and thus the Grey Wardens.

She actually found that she preferred fighting darkspawn.

"Since Reed's great-grandfather swore fealty to my great-grandfather, and the bulk of the mine is under my lands even if the only entrance—" Bann Casamir seemed to be coming around to his final point.

One of the gate sentries hurried into the room and whispered something in Garevel's ear. Garevel cleared his throat: "Commander, the Grey Wardens have returned."

Thank the Maker. Adara pushed to her feet and tried not to seem too eager to run out of the room. "I apologize, Bann Casamir, but we will have to revisit the matter later. Leave your petition with Garevel, and I will review it." Casamir began to object, but Adara ignored him. "Garevel, clear everyone out of here."

The returning wardens did not linger in the yard to be stared at by the rest of the Keep's residents. Most of them trudged off to the barracks or the dining hall, and Adara's eyes scanned over each one. She had to be sure that her people had returned safely, and then the gnawing worry in her gut could finally cease. She caught sight of Jowan with a bandage over one ear, but he appeared to be in one piece.

Then there was Carver, his sword resting on one shoulder, and she let out a breath it felt like she had been holding for weeks. His eternally stormy expression lightened somewhat when he saw her. She smiled with relief and held his gaze for a moment before someone cleared their throat beside her. Her gaze shifted to find Nathaniel Howe standing beside her.

"Welcome back, Nathaniel," she said.

"Commander," he said with a quick incline of his head. "No casualties."

"And did we find what we were looking for?" Adara asked. Nathaniel nodded and jerked his head towards two Orlesian Wardens supporting a humanoid figure between them with disgust on their faces. There was a sack tied over its head, and a cloak obscured as much of its body as possible.

"We did," Maylis said as she approached. "This one calls itself the Abandoned. He put up a fight for a long time, but he's gone quiet now. We would like to return without delay, if you can ready the cage and alert the ship."

Adara nodded. This would not be their first time smuggling a living darkspawn out of Amaranthine under cover of darkness, and it was too much to hope for that it would be the last. "Garevel will make sure your men are resupplied for the home journey."

Maylis bowed and left to see to her people and their quarry. Nathaniel similarly excused himself, and Adara's gaze sought out Carver again across the yard. With a little smile, she nodded her head in the vague direction of her living quarters and waved to him before going to find Garevel. She needed to take care of business before she could, well, take care of business.