Along the road to Redcliffe were a distressing number of abandoned wagons and packs, but this time, the brown earth of the Hinterlands was stained red. These wagons were not abandoned because their masters had gotten tired, but because something very sinister indeed had befallen them.

"There should be more bodies," Lelianna observed as Ten relieved an abandoned cart of two additional tents, a larger hatchet than the one she was carrying, and a small sack of potatoes. Feeding the new additions, especially the enormous Qunari, was going to be a problem once they had gotten out of the part of the country where looting was temporarily acceptable.

"My mother said the darkspawn raid the battlefields," Morrigan said, "Feast on the corpses and drag the survivors off for who knows what nefarious purpose."

Ten thought of the woman who had given birth several days before, but kept silent. Some things were too awful to give voice to. She rolled up the tents and was about to put them in Jenny's saddlebags, wondering how much more the poor creature could be expected to carry, and if she should find another beast of burden to share the load.

"Give me that," said Alistair, "Donkey's got enough to carry."

"I just wish one of them would have left at least a bridle intact," she sighed, "Could hitch her up to one of these, solve a lot of problems."

"I don't think it was the refugees that cut them," said Alistair.

Ten sighed, acknowledging he was probably right, and obliged, handing him the bundles, which he strapped to his back as best he could.

"Wait here a bit. Let the others get ahead."

"Why?" she asked.

"I need to tell you something that I'm not sure they need to know," he said.

"Why do I get the feeling this is not good news?" asked Ten, but obliged him, slowing her pace, matching his, until there were a good twenty feet between them and the rest of their ragged little band.

"You're about to find out anyway, we're within two hours of Redcliffe at this point. Look, I wasn't entirely honest with you that night in Lothering," he said, "I didn't lie, I have actually never met my father, and I was raised mostly in the Chantry. But… before that, you see…" he hesitated, his brows knitting together as though he were trying to find the best phrasing.

"Out with it," she said.

"Allegedly, I of course have no first hand knowledge of this, the man who sired me was in fact old king Maric."

"Oh, is that all?" Ten said, making a face, "And you were so indignant when I said you looked like Cailan!"

"It's not exactly my favorite fact about myself. But you're not in the least surprised by this?'"

"Well no," said Ten, "Maric wasn't exactly known for keeping it in his breeches."

He was a brute. Maids cried before going to work at the palace. They started greasing their arms and necks so they could slip out of his grasp. There was a grand party in the Alienage when the old fuck finally died. Ha! Next time I'm in town I'll have to tell Ioan Vanalys I've been running the roads with his long lost half brother.

"Well that's not a thing one says about the king, and how would you know anyway?"

"Where do you think half the palace staff lives?" asked Ten, "I suppose I grew up with a couple of your half siblings."

"Wait, what?"

"I told you, the man could not keep his hands off the help. Camina's few years older than me, as far as I know her dad - stepdad - found her a husband in Ostwick, so she's long gone. But Ioan and I were thick as thieves when we were kids. He's still in Denerim, at least he was when I saw him last year."

"Well shit, first it's that I even have more siblings, and now it's you used to run the streets with them?"

"Now that I think about it, I really should have seen it," she said, "That face you make when you see something gross is exactly the same on all three of you. This is neither here nor there, but next time we're in the capital we can swing by Ioan's place and you two can get acquainted figure out all the weird shit you have in common." At some point I'm going to have to explain how Ioan's passing as human and turning tricks at the Pearl, maybe not now, though.

"I… think I'd like that. Going to take awhile to wrap my head around this one."

"So what I can't wrap my head around is how you wound up here," she said, "If your mother was a bann, even a lower-ranking one, you'd almost certainly have been given a title and wouldn't be allowed within ten yards of someone with my record."

"Please leave your ax where it is."

"It's not me you'd have to worry about," she said, "If anyone was to take an ax to you under that hypothetical, it'd be the executioner once Cailan decided it was too risky keeping you around. Which he didn't do, so you can't have been of noble birth. But you're also not a halfbreed, at least you don't look like one, and while I have been wrong about that before, I don't think I am this time. So your ma was not palace staff. They're almost all elves."

"Is this fun for you? This guessing game?"

"I've had nothing to occupy my mind for the last week except remembering every horrific event that's happened over the last couple of months and playing 'guess how this poor sod died' every time we happen on a pile of corpses," she said, "So yes, in comparison, guessing who was the victim in this particular instance of a master not keeping his hands off the help is fun for me."

"So, do you not want me to tell you? Just let you spout whatever theories pop up in that dark little mind of yours and tell you when you've got it?"

"Well, you're being uncharacteristically cagey," she said, "Which means this all makes you extremely uncomfortable to talk about. I don't blame you, it can't be a happy story."

"I am, it does, and it's not."

"So your ma wasn't palace staff, and she wasn't a noble, so she must have been staff somewhere provincial, where humans have to do the scut work. Since you connected this to Redcliffe, I'm going to go with that."

"Well that part was easy."

"But that's not all, is it. The Arl of Redcliffe realizes his chambermaid is pregnant, knows she doesn't have a husband, does the math and realizes it coincided with a visit from the king. Out you come, she goes to the Maker's side, and he, being a provincial bann who doesn't pay enough attention at court, doesn't know that there's half of dozen of you out there already. So now he suddenly has what he thinks is a very valuable asset. And he does everything he can to keep an eye on that asset. Even… raising you himself."

She looked at him. He had his eyes on the ground. She was right.

"Shit, why'd you have to put it that way?" he asked.

"Well am I wrong?"

"No, but you're making me rethink my entire childhood."

"Well it's probably high time you did that anyway."

"He was kind to me, though. At the beginning. He said he was my uncle, which he wasn't, I suppose, but that's how he treated me."

"Well I'm sure he wasn't entirely unfeeling," she said, "Even nobility are capable of empathy. Sometimes. When it suits them. But you got packed off to the Chantry at some point, so he did run out eventually."

"He married. When I was… oh I don't know. Eight maybe. I don't even remember her name, the daughter of some minor Orlesian noble. And she just… she did not appreciate having me around. He put his foot down for the first couple of years, but then, out I went."

"Probably thought you were Eamon's," said Ten, "Either way. That's a horrible thing to do to a child that young. I'm sorry."

"Thanks. I think," he said, "I really can't tell when you're being sincere."

"That's fair, neither can I most of the time," she admitted.

"The problem here is," he said, "If you're correct about all that, as of last week, I have become far more valuable to Eamon than I have been, oh, ever."

"Yes," said Ten, "So maybe you should keep that in mind if he's suddenly the kindly avuncular figure you remember from your childhood."

Alistair heaved a sigh, "It's just nightmares on top of nightmares, isn't it."

"Welcome to the world," said Ten.

Why had I not thought about this? An empty throne. No obvious heir. Every noble in the land is about to start trotting out their pet bastards. Ugh, I wish I were back in Denerim, would make it easier to have my ears on it. But now I'm stuck here in West Bumfuck babysitting quite possibly the least qualified candidate for the job. Maker's breath, he is fifteen different diplomatic scandals waiting to happen. Might as well send heralds to Orlais and the Imperium announcing it's time to invade.

But still, this is a rare opportunity. Got to get the other neighborhood bosses together. This is the first time our interests have ever aligned like this. It could be absolutely legendary if we play our cards right. Halfbreed is aiming too high, that will never happen, and if we finagle Ioan into place, there will be questions. But given Maric's reputation there's someone, a full human someone, out there raised like a regular old everyday…

"I don't like it when you're quiet like that," said Alistair, "It means you're plotting. That's the look you get right before you suggest something utterly insane."

"Something utterly insane that usually works," Ten protested, "Or, at least, fails unspectacularly."

"One day, you are going to have something fail spectacularly, and I am going to be there to point and laugh at you."

"Oh, if I fail that spectacularly, you're probably going down with me," she said.

"Probably, but I'll be laughing at you while I do."

"Well there's a non-zero chance I wind up hanged before the year's out. Dodging it the first go round was pure luck."

"Well I'm not going with you to the gallows."

"Of course not," said Ten, "They don't hang royalty. You'll be beheaded." She patted him on the back, and skipped ahead to where the witch, the nun, and the Qunari were, hoping that they would leave her to scheme in peace.

She would not have that opportunity. As soon as she got within earshot, the Qunari had turned and fixed her with his unnerving dark red gaze. "Explain yourself," he commanded gruffly, "These other two attempted to, but I do not understand."

"Explain what about myself, exactly?" Ten asked, narrowing her eyes.

"You are not like them, not exactly."

"Well no," she said, "Of course not exactly."

"Explain how."

"Well, first of all, I'm an elf and they're human," said Ten.

"I do not understand the difference."

"We're from different people," said Ten, "You and me are from different people. You and them are from different people. Me and them are from different people."

"You look the same to me," said Sten, "Though you are smaller."

"That's just me," said Ten, "There are elves as tall as them - mostly among the Dalish where we're not kept in a constant state of malnutrition. I'm just cursed to be surrounded by great looming giants because the Maker has seen fit to give me a permanent crick in my neck."

"But how are you a mighty warrior?"

"I'm not a mighty warrior," said Ten, "I'm a five foot two pain in the ass, ask anyone who's ever met me."

"Then why do they follow you?"

"I don't really know," said Ten, "You'd have to ask them that. Why are you here, anyway? Heard you traded the very valuable information that I was perfectly fine for a promise to travel with us. You could have just fucked off into the wild. Back to… jolly old Qunariland, wherever that is."

"I am not among my people, and it is… difficult for me to function without a commander. It is not in my nature. I thought from how the man described you that you must be a mighty warrior and therefore a worthy commander. He said that you killed multiple armed men and survived the slaughter at Ostagar."

"I don't think that really qualifies. Although I did do… those things."

"So you are a mighty warrior. I am fascinated. You are very small. And a woman. Yet, they follow you."

"They don't follow me," said Ten, "I've got a quest, so to speak. They're following the quest."

"But it is your quest," said Sten, "To defeat the darkspawn, slay the Archdemon."

"Mine and his," said Ten, jerking her head back to gesture at Alistair who was steadily gaining on them.

"But they follow you and not him. Explain."

"Again, you're really going to have to ask them that," sighed Ten. It's because I'm apparently the only one out here who knows what the world looks like outside a hut in the wilds or a damned cloister.

"You," the Qunari said, turning his eyes on Alistair, who had caught up to them finally, "Why is this one the leader, and not you?"

"She's not the leader."

"Yes she is," Sten said, "I thought for a moment, the other day, that you were going to fight her for her position, but you were a coward and did not. So she is the leader."

"I was going to… what? I wasn't going to fight her. We just had a disagreement. People can do that, you know, it doesn't always have to end with a duel."

"In my land, if I had spoken to my commander the way you spoke to her, that would have been considered a challenge, and you would have had to fight to the death," Sten said, "Thus you have dishonored yourself."

"She's not my commander. We're not in your land, there aren't enough of us to have a hierarchy. And I'm certainly not taking orders from a…"

"Think real hard about how you're going to finish that sentence," Ten interjected.

"New recruit," he concluded.

"This is why we have that rule," Sten said, "Right now, you are bickering like children. You, elf, are allowing him to provoke you to anger rather than putting him in his place. You, man, are trying to assert control that you have not earned. I am beginning to doubt my choice in following you."

"Well maybe we should all follow you then," Ten said.

"That is reasonable," Sten said. He put his cupped hand to his mouth and bellowed, "Soldiers!"

Morrigan and Lelianna, who appeared to be bickering as well, about twenty yards ahead, turned to look at him.

"We are marching to the Deep Roads to confront the Arch Demon," the Qunari declared.

"No we're not," Morrigan said.

"What are you even on about?" Lelianna asked. The two women shrugged, and turned back to the road.

"Well, you tried," said Ten.

"It is not my fault that your people lack discipline. Perhaps you should institute daily beatings."

"Well I know at least one of you who's really chasing one down right now," said Ten.

"Yes, that is what I am trying to say."

"You really don't get subtext do you."

"I don't know what that means."

"I'm making fun of you, Sten. Though you've managed to take most of the fun out of it."

"I see."

They plodded along mostly in silence for the next hour or so. Morrigan and Lelianna seemed to have made peace. About twenty minutes out of town - Ten could see the outline of the great hulking castle on the horizon across an inlet in Lake Calenhad - a young man approached them on the road.

"Are you here to help us?" he asked breathlessly.

"Calm down, man," Ten said, offering him water from a leather flask, which he accepted gratefully, "Who's 'us'?"

"Redcliffe Village," he said, "I'm Tomas, I'm a yeoman with the militia. We've been under attack nightly, and nobody has come to help."

"Well if you hadn't noticed, we're in the middle of both a blight and probably a civil war," said Ten.

"A… what and what now?"

"King's dead, the queen's father has made a grab for the throne, and darkspawn are spreading out from the wilds razing farms and villages as they go," she said.

"Well that's not good news," Tomas said, "Seems like there's not a lot of that these days. Who are you, anyway? Never seen an elf armed to the teeth like that."

"Yes, well, it makes you people nervous," she said, "Almost as though you know what you have coming."

"Wait… him there. You!" Tomas said, approaching Alistair, "You're familiar."

"I grew up in Redcliffe," Alistair said.

"Then you'll help, right?"

"Don't suppose we have much of a choice," he said, "What exactly is going on?"

"I don't know exactly. All I know is the castle's been sealed up this past week. And every night, the dead rise and come in ever greater numbers to attack the villagers."

"Well that's… strange. Ten, have you ever heard of that?"

"The dead rising?" Ten said, "Can't say I have. Maybe there's a mage somewhere who got in over his head. Morrigan, you know all about that, what do you think?"

"I've never once been in over my head, thank you very much," the witch said, "But you're right, that sounds like mage nonsense. Though if the village is still standing they're probably just fucking with you."

"Fuck with. More like slaughter," said Tomas.

"Just once I'd like to go the whole day with nobody saying that word," Ten sighed, "All right, I suppose we haven't much of a choice. Lead the way, yeoman."