Dragon Age Origins: Dovahkiin

by Arch-Daishou00

(M) 'Mature story' "Sea-bound to foreign shores, the Dunmeri Dragonborn Miara and her kin embark on a new land on orders from the emperor. The family's mission; To investigate and explore these foreign nations. But no objective is ever straightforward for a Doom Driven hero" Co-Author: Etheral-23. UNIGORE did the original artwork. "Thank you so much!"

37. Test of morality at Edgehall: Act II

Disclaimer: We do not own Elder Scrolls and Dragon Age series.

Co-Author and Beta: Etheral-23

Test of morality at Edgehall Act: II

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

The meeting place was a few miles away from Edgehall, in one of the patches of dense forests surrounding the area. Like most of the terrain, it was blanketed by a heavy layer of snow, making half of the tree's foliage appear to be bearing white sleeves, with the beings stretching into the sky like white peaks.

The large party of the Wardens and their allies trekked through the woods and were soon met by the sounds of swords drawing and bows being strung. Soldiers in simple but sturdy gear surrounded them. A large balding man with thick muttonchops and a scar over his face approached, hefting a large ax over his shoulder.

Marcus recognized their emblems, "These are bann Lanya's men..."

"The password," He looked at the griffon in Alistair's chest piece, "Wardens?"

"By Calenhad's sword, this land was born," The Warden repeated the words the banns' agents gave them.

"By Maric's courage, it was set free," The large bald man said gruffly. "You're late."

"Bit of a journey here from Edgehall"

"Can't be too careful. The damn Orlessians are everywhere," The man spat on the snowy ground. "What I'd give to wring the neck of those fucking posh mask-wearing shits."

Leliana slowly stood behind her girlfriend.

"Name's Galehut" The knight introduced himself, "I serve bann Lanya. Come," He waved at his soldiers to lower their weapons and motioned for the Wardens to follow him. "The banns are waiting for you."

"All four of them?" Alistair said, surprised.

"We've got the bloody Wardens wanting a meeting; of course, they all came."

The amount of admiration in Galehut's rough tone was refreshing. "Nice to feel appreciated," Brianna commented.

"We all heard the hogwash coming from Denerim." The balding man snarled, "about as believable as Andreste not having a pair of good tits."

"Colorful," Wynne deadpanned with a sway of her head. A friendly reminder that they were on the very rural side of Ferelden.

Not long did they reach a large clearing in the forest where four individuals stood around armed soldiers. But, first, they took notice of a towering, muscular woman with a squarish figure, long brunette hair, and piercing brown eyes who looked more like a warrior than a noblewoman. Moreover, her noble dress with a thick wolf-skinned cloak looked awkward as they guessed she felt more comfortable in armor.

Beside her stood a posh-looking man, fully decorated in garments to match someone of aristocracy with long flowing blond hair and a full long braided beard. His build, while average and a bit portly, stood perfectly straight like someone of noble bearing raised his whole life to live up to the expectation would. Near him was a young woman with short but vibrant crimson hair in full white plate armor and rugged leathers. Though she gave off the appearance of boredom, Miara could tell this woman was highly observant of her surrounding with a hand on the hilt of her sword when ready.

A bit away from those two stood a tall but slender, very handsome young man with a well-trimmed beard and short brunette hair. He dressed in simple but well-made and functional leathers with a fur cloak. Sarya noted a keen glint in Brianna's eyes, taking in every detail of the man.

And finally, an older gentleman with long black hair, a full mustache with stern features, and outfitted in full plate armor. His harsh gaze softened as he closed the distance between him and the leader of the group they came to meet. "Marcus Cousland, as I live and breath..." His lips pursed as he shook his head. "I am sorry about your father; he was a good man." The two clasped arms warmly.

"Thank you, Bann Parth," Marcus expressed sincerely. "I was afraid you'd believe Loghain's lies."

"Bah!" The man waved his arm with disgust, unclasping arms. "Bryce Cousland fought for his nation against Orlais; he'd sooner have drunk poison than betray it."

"I read the tales of the battle of White River. Your father was truly a noble and just man. But, unfortunately, he was taken from us far too soon," The tall, handsome man spoke up with a warm baritone. "Ferelden is lesser for it."

"Thank you, Bann Bryton," Marcus nodded in gratitude.

The female noble among the four kept an eye of curiosity and suspicion towards the Grey-skinned elves and tall Avvar women beside them, "We heard whispers of strange foreigners who came to our lands months ago. I see they weren't tall tales."

Miara and her family gave a courtly bow, Oryrn making his twin sister follow suit, "We bid you greeting, Bann Lanya." She spoke politely and respectfully.

The posh-looking man rubbed his hand through his thick beard, "And an odd thing for foreigners to be assisting Ferelden in her time of need rather than endeavoring to conquer us like Orlais."

"They can be trusted, Bann Kail," Marcus spoke up quickly, "If not for Miara Redoran, all of my family would be dead." He gestured to the matriarch of the family in question.

"Hmph, very well" It was clear that most of the banns were not entirely on board with it, but at the moment, they would not raise any objections.

"We have to be clear about it, lord banns," Marcus said, going straight to the point. "We don't like what Lendon has done, but neither can we help you when we are committed to stopping the Blight, and time is of the essence."

"Naturally," Parth said gruffly as he placed his arms akimbo. "What do you want?"

"Your support against Loghain," The Cousland replied.

The banns shared a look, "You'll find no friends of Loghain around these parts. His focus at the Orlessian border has been severely lacking; paranoid bastard rants about Orlais and yet does nothing when damn orlessian mercenaries sack our towns," Lanya said with condemnation.

"All of us here have been doubting the well-being of Loghain's mental state; his orders are... intense would be putting it politely," Bryton continued. "Seeing enemies in fellow Fereldans while the Blight advances."

"Help get rid of this rat that is Lendon," Kail said with a flourish of his hand. "And we will support you against Loghain."

"Good," Marcus said, partly relieved. "Good"

"And after he is gone, what then?" Gin asked, stepping forward. If they were bothered by an elf speaking up so openly to lords like them, it didn't show. "One of you must become arl, right? What will you do about the Alienage? It's literally outside the city, surrounded by a flimsy wall."

"When we're not worrying about Orlessian mercenaries attacking us, then we can think about rebuilding infrastructure," Lanya said sternly. "It might be that in Edgehall, the situation for them is worse, but they're not the only ones in the lands who-"

"Peace, Lanya" Bryton raised his hands and spoke diplomatically. "I understand your concern for your kin, and I would be in the same place if any Fereldan were at the mercy of Orlais again. However, I fear the elves are" He placed his hands behind his back, "If it helps to secure your cooperation, I will divert money from my pocket to ensure the elves at Edgehall are better protected."

"If you become arl," Theron pointed out.

"Now is not the time to consider who is to become arl, lest we fall to infighting," Bryton rebutted. "That can come later. Meanwhile, we collaborate and divide responsibilities."

"I concur," Parth nodded. "Before an arl is chosen, we can split the governance of Edgehall's arling amongst ourselves and take care of different matters."

That answer seemed to satisfy the elves.

Alistair nodded, "What measures have you taken to fight Gell and his mercenaries so far?"

"We've been discretely sharing information and scouting the power structure under Gell's command, committing as many soldiers we can once a proper fight starts," Kail explained. "It was simple to identify the leader of these mercenaries, one Marcel Corbin."

"Might be a former chevalier or a disgraced noble," Parth explained, "Regardless, he's smart and resourceful, the reason how Gell usurped power."

Lanya said, "We estimate he commands over twelve hundred soldiers."

"That is a large company," Miara said with alarm.

"While our combined forces are roughly around eighteen hundred," Bryton added.

Most of the party seemed to brighten up at the news. "That's great," Brianna said, "That means we outnumber them."

"Unfortunately, those numbers aren't the multiplying force you might think," Parth said with a shake of his head, "Our forces vary greatly in fighting strength and equipment, Bryton's forces, for example..."

"They're more of a militia," The bearded bann said softly, "Most of my land's soldiers went to Ostagar. Many never came back."

A wince came from a few within the group, "Oh, that is not good," Neria addressed delicately.

Bryton could not help but agree, "While my militia is a hardy and strong stock of citizens willing to fight for their lands and country."

"They are not soldiers," Alistair quipped with a huff.

Kail waved a hand to the red-haired woman at his side, "This Fallon. I hired her mercenary company shortly after Gell arrived and usurped his brother."

The woman gave a modest bow, "Wardens." she spoke with a husky tone.

"Out of the four of us, Lanya is the only one who has her full regiment of soldiers." Parth gestured to his fellow Bann. "She had kept her men here instead of sending them to Ostagar."

That drew Sofie's attention, "King Cailen didn't send a summons for your men?"

"He did," Lany omitted, "However, I could not offer support. Our borders needed to be watched. Though the king understood, I feel shame that I couldn't aid our king."

Miara rubbed the back of her neck, "Likely been more to the slaughter given how vicious those Blighters were there."

"You were there at Ostagar?" Kail cocked a brow.

Marcus nodded, "Her, her lover Serana Volkihar, and their oldest daughter Sofie." He gestured to the three women.

"I was adopted," The Nord woman clarified from the bewildered expression from Bann Kail and some of the soldiers. Then, she placed a hand on her younger siblings' shoulders, "This is Oryrn and Sarya, twins, and my siblings."

"...Lightbringer Oryrn?" Bryton questioned.

The Tamriel Templar bowed, "Yes, Lord Bann, as those in Redcliffe have come to call me."

Upon hearing Redcliffe, Parth spoke, "We had heard a fowl evil plagued Eamon's lands."

Faren shuddered, "Sodding undead."

"They were most unpleasant to squish under my feet," Shale grumbled.

The Banns gave the golem an odd glance before turning to Marcus, who cleared his throat, "We dealt with that situation along with the incident at Kinloch Hold you no doubt heard about."

"We did," Kail remarked, "How is Arl Eamon?"

Alistair's expression became crestfallen, "He was poisoned. By an agent of Loghain's."

Gasps and outrage came from the soldiers and the banns, who wore varying degrees of shock. "He has truly lost his mind," Bryton uttered breathlessly.

"Our mage allies are doing what they can," Marcus said. "But I'm afraid it's still a work in progress. For now, Eamon remains alive, but we've yet to find a way to save him fully."

"Then let us pray you can do it sooner than later," Parth said grimly. "Eamon is a voice of reason and one of the most influential arls in the country. He will be essential to rally support against Loghain."

Kail hummed in thought, "I would assume you plan on taking down Loghain by calling a Landsmeet and having the nobility strip him of power."

"That is the plan, yes."

"It is an uphill battle," The well-dressed bann said. "Loghain still holds much power and sway with half of Ferelden. That is not to mention his control of the army; most importantly, he has the queen on his side. She has not publicly decried his actions yet."

Marcus slowly nodded and turned to face Alistair. After a moment of hesitation, the Warden caught the meaning of his look and nodded at the Cousland, permitting him to tell them.

"There is one more card we have on our hand, one that will cripple Loghain's claims" He waved at Alistair.

The senior Warden took a deep breath before taking one step forward. "My name is Alistair, and Arl Eamon raised me as a ward for most of my life before joining the Wardens" His lips pursed as if holding himself back from speaking for a moment. "I am the bastard son of King Maric, brother to the late King Cailan, and rightful heir to the throne."

A pregnant silence took hold of the area with a sole skeptical look coming from Fallon, "Pardon my words." The redhead uttered, "but wouldn't even a bastard look more." Her hands swayed, "Well, more regal?"

Surprisingly an amused snort came from the bastard in question, "Would you believe me if I said the same too?" He soon yelps, promptly smacked on the back of the head by Miara, who dryly stared at the young man.

"While I heard stories of King Maric's... indiscretions," Kail put the words delicately as possible, clearing his throat.

The oldest of Bann's displayed a dry look of understanding, "I knew Maric enough to know he did fool around when no one was looking"

"Infidelity aside," Lanya spoke up, keeping her gaze at the Senior Warden, "How do we know this man is truly Maric's son?"

Parth took several steps towards Alistair, who blinked as the older man took in his features. Then, a grunt escaped his lips, "He looks like Maric did when young, a lot as Cailan did." He spoke matter of factly.

"Say this man is King Maric's son. The Bannorn and Arls might reject him regardless." Bryton remarked, crossing his arms.

"We are doing far more for Ferelden than Loghain is," The senior Warden argued, "As he wastes time putting our people at each other's throats, the Blight continues to advance. Last reports we had, the hord had reached West Hills," He shook his head grimly, "And as we speak, the arling is under heavy assault, with many refugees fleeing further north."

A concerned silence grew amongst the banns.

"We are gathering forces to fight against the Blight," Alistair continued, gaining strength in his words with each moment. "Already, the dalish clans have pledged their bows to the fight, and Circle of Magi will bring the full strength of their magic to bear against the spawn. Redcliffe has been alleviated, and while its arl remains unavailable, its bannorn has given us their full support, reaching out to more allies in central Ferelden. And not only that," He paced as he explained. "Though this has become more than a detour, we were currently en route to recruit the aid of the dwarves. The finest smiths in Thedas, with a hardened army that has battled the Darkspawn for generations."

"Maker above..." Bryton muttered in awe. "With such a force... we might not only replace the army lost at Ostager, but even surpass it."

"The horde is numerous and fierce," The heir to the throne continued. "So please pledge your support to our cause in return for our aid, lest Ferelden is destroyed."

For a moment, the banns remain silent, considering his words carefully.

"If you help us rid Edgehall of Lendon," Lanya was the first to speak. The large muscular woman stared solemnly at the senior Warden, "I will pledge myself to you... Prince Alistair"

Bryton and Kail lightly bowed their heads, while Parth was more reserved, "I will offer my aid but want to see more action than words."

Alistair nodded, "I understand."

"Good, 'cause this will not be an easy endeavor to accomplish." The older man huffed, "Now to more unappealing business." However, his tone suggested that he was pretty in favor of what they wanted to do. "Removing the usurper Arl Gell Lendon."

"By removing, we would prefer dead," Kail explained in a pleased tone that unnerved Neria and a few others.

The said elven mage raised her hand, "Um, wouldn't it be prudent to send that man into jail for trial?"

An unpleasant grunt came from Bann Bryton, "Normally, I would agree with you, Lady Warden-"

"Just Neria, thank you."

"Neria," Bryton offered a respectful nod, "But we know this man willingly had his half-brother and former Arl assassinated for his position. Moreover, he has an Orlesian mercenary company backing him. And he used the chaos of the Blight to get what he wanted while the crown was distracted."

"More than enough rope to stretch his pretentious neck," Lanya growled.

Hearing those words, Leliana leaned forward, "Such a deed would mandate individuals with a unique set of talents." Despite everyone keeping a straight face, more than a few eyes glanced at the redhead as she had dropped her Orlesian accent for a more Ferelden tone. "We have three among us that would aid that endeavor." She placed a hand on her chest, giving a polite nod, "I, Leliana, am one such person."

Zevran soon gave a flamboyant bow, "Zevran Arainai at your services my lords."

Lastly, Miara presented a frigid and sinister smile that even Lanya felt a chill run down her spine, "Like sweet Leliana and dear Zevran, my aptitudes follow to coincide with theirs."

"Very well" Parth nodded as he crossed his arms. "Dispose of him and Marcel. If we are fortunate, that will throw the Orlesians in disarray. We will be able to move in then and take fewer casualties."

"Can you be discrete?" The large lady bann asked.

"They'd never know we were there" She motioned at the two assassins to follow her, "Come. We will contact you the moment we are done. Just ask any of my children, and through magical devices, we shall be able to speak."

Zevran gave his companions a wink and a flamboyant wave before following after the dunmer, with Leliana standing on the tip of her toes so she and Sofie could share a soft kiss and soon left on her assignment.

"Are they as proficient as they claim?" Bann Bryton asked.

"They're professionals," Marcus replied, "And let's leave it at that."

"Ah, by the way. You there, my dalish friend," Kail spook up, looking at Theron.

The elf with dreadlocks didn't look too kindly at the thought of being called 'friend' by a noble such as this, if the sound coming from the back of his throat was any indication.

"There is another matter we're dealing with. A band of dalish elves has been... shall we say, having tensions with the settlements around the area for some time, but now they're also having problems with orlessian mercenaries. So I was hoping you'd be able to help reach an understanding with them."

Theron thought about it for a moment. "They'll want something in return."

"They hate orlesians, and we hate orlesians" Lanya shrugged as if it were simple. "I think we can bond over a shared interest."

The Dalish Warden shook his head, "Not something so simple. But I'll see what they want." Galehut came to the elf's side, displaying a map of the area, and pointed to where this group of fellow dalish attacked. "Tracking them will be difficult but doable." He turned his eyes toward Neria, "May I borrow Bran?"

A nod came from the young mage while she patted her hound's head. "Go help Theron, okay?" She knelt to her dog, who barked happily and soon joined the elven warrior's side as he departed from the group.

"So," Sarya chirped happily, gazing at the Banns, "what's the story about you four?"

Kail cocked a brow at the Foreign elf, "Are you not cold, my lady?" He also considered that the other members of this Redoran family did not wear fur cloaks for the chilly weather like their comrades.

XxX ~ an hour later ~ XxX

Theron's boots crunched through the snow, with Bran sniffing the ground around them and walking through the dense forest around Edgehall. His eyes surveyed every detail around him. Though if there were any clues of these Dalish, the falling snow likely already covered it. Mostly, he only heard the sound of birds and animals moving around them. "Smell anything?" He quipped to the hound, who made a grumbling noise looking back. "This might take a while."

Or sooner as his danger senses screamed and shifted his shoulder, just missing an arrow that jogged itself in the tree behind him. Bran was soon on the defensive, growling before they both heard angry shouting in elven coming from all around them.

"Atish'an!" Theron yelled, "I am Theron Mahariel of the Sabrae Clan."

"Heral!" A woman's voice called back, "We saw you with the shem coming here, Harellan!"

"I am no Harellan! I am a Grey Warden!"

Mutters came from the elves, and Theron took his chance to survey the situation. He counted seven around him, appearing from the shadows and trees, all wearing heavy furs to battle the cold. Even with the dalish preference to go barefoot, the terrain made it necessary for these elves to cover their feet.

"Is he telling the truth?" One of the archers asked among themselves.

"Hmm, he bears the vallaslin and the armor of the griffon." Came a reply. "His party is... very colorful, to say the least. Shemlem is prominent, but there are elves and dwarves in their ranks."

"Qunari as well, that towering man of bronze skin and those shorter grey ones."

Were they not aware of Miara and her kin? That was... interesting to note. The call for the dalish to join the battle against the Blight came with tales of the Wardens and their allies, what they did for them, and the people who comprised their party. Including their cousins from beyond the seas.

If they were unaware, the message had not reached them. Was it the same for other clans too far west? Of course, but it's been many months since they first recruited the dalish...

The arrows slowly lowered, "What is your business here, friend?" The tone was much more welcoming this time.

"I'm here on business from the Wardens," It was better to say that than to explain it was a human noble who sent him immediately. "I need to talk to your clan. Is your Keeper available?"

There was a momentary pause.

"Alora is our leader," The words were chosen carefully. "Come, we shall take you to her."

Leader. Not Keeper, or even First. Strange...

Theron would get his answers once he was face to face with this Alora. "Lead on then."

Calming Bran with soothing words, he and the war hound followed his fellow Dalish deep into the forest. Outside of a few questions to Theron, the trek was quiet. Finally, after fifteen minutes of walking, they stopped at a cave entrance. "Fen'Harel ma ghilana." One called out.

Theron cocked a brow, not a usually saying one says among the Dalish, given how the clans revile the Dread Wolf.

"Fen'Harel enansal." Walking out from within the entrance was a bald Dalish who eyed Theron when he saw him before speaking with his comrades. But, once done, he soon stood before the elven warrior, "Aneth ara, brother of Sabrae."

"Aneth ara. I was told I may speak with your leader."

The bald elf grunted before gesturing to follow him. Passing the threshold was short as they entered a spacious hidden grotto. Within it was several small to large tents, with several dozen Dalish doing various assignments. At the center were a lit campfire where several Dalish sat and ate skinned and cooked rabbits. Bran's ears turned up upon sniffing the meat; Theron grabbed his collar before the large mastiff could run over and claim it for himself. "Neria spoils you too much," he mumbled before they came to a stop at the center.

Among the sitting, Dalish was one young female with fiery long red hair in a ponytail outfitted in thick leather. Her almond eyes took Theron and the war hound in as she swallowed a piece of meat, "Andaran atish'an, I am Alora." she spoke in a husky tone as the bald elf came to her side, whispering to her ear. "Sabrae Clan, I have heard of them."

"Your group is… most odd. Are you not a clan?" He didn't see any children or non-combatants. Nobody would fulfill the proper roles in a clan, and they were all warriors.

"We are what remains of shattered and ruined clans. We found each other before the Dread Wolf could take us. We are Revas'Assan."

The Free Arrows. The name implied much.

"Are you marauders?" Theron bluntly asked. He knew he was insulting some people here, but... more than one clan went out of its way to antagonize humans and attack anyone who came close. Fighting humans who threatened them was one thing, but attacking them out of spite was an excellent way of rallying them against the dalish.

"We take from foolish shems from time to time, always carefully chosen targets. Bandits and the like. Or when they don't know it was us" She shrugged. "Life is hard, and we survive as we can without little aid from the outside. As all dalish do."

"Even dalish can count on our kin for aid." Theron pointed out. "Yet you appear bereft of such."

"Tch, other clans, do not like my 'approach,'" Alora snorted. "They think it's too risky. They can't understand risks are necessary sometimes. I won't endanger my people needlessly, but if it has a chance of furthering our goals, we take it"

He looked at her with a critical look. "And what goals are those?"

"A home to call our own, a haven for our people." She said those words louder, spreading her arms much to the cheer and encouragement of other elves around them. "The dalish cause is to keep the past alive, for we seek to return to the Dales and find as much as we can of our people."

A worthy goal, but a dangerous one. Humans did not like elves settling anywhere. In their mission, they must have made many enemies before.

"Have you fought against the human lords in the area?"

"Bah," She waved him off. "Just scrapes they won't cry over, at least that lady shem lets us be. Then the soldiers in gilded armor always look at us with suspicion" That had to be Kail's men, no doubt. "So long as they never find out where some of their missing supplies went"

Ahhh, there it was. "Those humans in the area are trying to fight back against orlesians."

"We are aware," Alora said, "And we took plenty from those perfume-loving thugs. So we don't care about their struggle, and we'll just leave before the Blighters arrive."

Theron's thoughts screeched to a grinding hold, suddenly growing worried. "What do you mean?"

"You..." Alora shook her head, "You don't know? Since you were a Warden, I thought that's why you came here."

"Speak clearly," He urged her, "What is this about the Blight?"

The dalish rogue shared a look with some of her companions. "My scouts in the northern region spotted Darkspawn emerging from the Deep Roads and in large numbers," She said with grim urgency. "We're currently packing to leave. I thought your party got involved with those shem lords to fight that Warband."

The Sabrae clan elf slowly shook his head. "We weren't even aware the Darkspawn are drawing near..." They had to be still far enough that they couldn't sense the Blighters…

XxX ~ ten minutes prior ~ XxX

Their steps were muted, with Miara, Leliana, and Zevran gliding through crowded Edgehall making their way to the home of Arl Gell Lendon. "Been years since I last did a job like this," the tall redhead muttered.

"Well, I can see you never lost your edge, hermosa rosa," Zevran spoke kindly.

"Merci mon bel ami."

Miara deadpanned, "I need to learn the languages here."

Her two fellow assassins conveyed a brightened countenance: "We could happily teach you if you want?" Leliana addressed cheerfully.

Zevran soon came to the Dunmer's side, "Oh, that exquisite sensual and husky voice of yours would ring like a sacred hymn in Antivan."

"Still trying to charm me, I see."

"Every chance I get, my goddess."

A chuckle escaped Miara's lips before sighing, "Been a few months since I've been The Nightshade."

Inquisitive expression bore on Leliana and Zevran before realization, "So your 'title' in our profession."

"It was Listener, but since the Dark Brotherhood no longer exists, I needed to rework myself. And thus was born Nightshade."

"It takes a highly skilled assassin to get away with a moniker," Zevran said as the two turned into a corner. A stack of crates provided the means to climb up the wall of a tall building; years of experience allowed them to dexterously move up the side with flowing movements, barely stopping to get their footing. "The good ones remain anonymous, the best; they are known by title and little else."

"I almost thought of picking the Nightingale, but a certain group already took that," Miara explained, grabbing onto an uneven piece of wall and propping herself up. She looked at Leliana, who gave a soft grunt as she propelled herself higher and much faster than the dunmer. "You have some good climbing skills."

"Orlais is filled with tall buildings, long streets, and dark alleys," Leliana said as she grabbed the edge of the roof and pulled herself up, offering her hand to Miara, who took it. "Jumping from roof to roof was necessary to perform many of my duties as a Bard," She commented as she helped the dunmer up.

"Antiva City is built on a cliffside on the coast," Zevran said as he got on the roof. "Lot of vertical movement is needed there too. Though Crow contracts take you all over, I've gotten used to moving from the bustling cities to the dingiest hamlets."

"I just use a lot of magic and illusion when the situation calls for it," Miara said with a grin. "Plus a precious little gift from my aunt."

Miara tapped two fingers to her chest, and the sigil of a bird appeared. Then, as if wrapped by the shadows, her form was coated in a thick dark substance, almost like smoke, merging and taking the shape of gear as dark as night. As if woven from the night sky, with a long cloak (unlike the shorter version) covering dark leather of unknown makes, the only visible part of Miara's body was the gray fingers through the gloves.

"Ohhhh, now that is sexy armor," Zevran purred.

"O-la-la," Leliana sing-sang, appreciating the look as much as Zevran was. "What I'd give for gear like that..."

"Trust me, and it's not something you want to pay for" Even her voice sounded... different in a way they couldn't describe. "My aunt is the goddess of thieves and luck. She wants eternal servitude in return for the abilities this armor provides, alongside some of her precious luck. Unfortunately, she cannot have me for multiple reasons, so I work for her from time to time."

"What sort of work?"

"Anything ranging from assassination to the most inane and insufferable tasks," She groans, "Like delving for hours into a cave just to give her a completely mundane gem you find in any market."

"Sounds... petty"

"You have no idea..."

If there was one thing Miara could take out of her periodic assignments for Nocturnal, it did send her outside their Arubis from time to time. And those deeds were anything but dull.

Under her hooded mask, a warm smile danced on her lips in fond recollection. 'Wonder how many youngsters, my dear handsome lad, and his little bossy Mine, now have?' And made a mental note to visit her girls when not so busy.

Shaking out of her reflection, she shifted her unseeable gaze to Zevran and Leliana, "No doubt this poor excuse of a man is lounging somewhere. We keep to the shadows till we find him and bring back his head."

Leli's brow cocked, "Sounds like you wanted to do more to him?"

"Oh, if we were not pressed for time, I make him regret his existence. Sadly no fun time."

"Ahh," Zevran mused, "You're one of those types."

"Only if they truly have it coming." Before they could take one step, her communication ring came to life. The others looked on as she raised her hand, "Yes?"

"Miara, we need you, Zevran, and Leliana back here now," a distressed Serana spoke with haste in her tone.

"We just made it to the Arl's roof," Leliana interjected.

"Killing him has to be put on pause. Theron obtained some grave news, and we need you three here now!"

An annoyed growl came from the Dunmer, "What can be so serious as stopping ending this twat Lendon?"

"Darkspawn." Immediately the trio of assassins became stock still and silent. That was enough to say for them as they immediately leaped from rooftop to rooftop before landing back on the ground and dashing out of Edgehall.

XxX ~ XX ~ XxX

The sounds of voices raised in alarms, barking orders, and arguing were the first thing they noticed when they returned to the meeting place between the banns. An impromptu table had been set, where a map of the Edgehall arling was laid upon as they quickly tried to get a handle of the situation.

Miara's Nightingale armor was long since discarded; back in her usual gear, she, along with Zevran and Leliana, sprinted towards their comrades and the banns. Bann Parth was tapping his finger on a particular location on the map.

"One of the few Deep Road entrances still standing is this one, north of the town of Cardiff. It's not too far from the entrance, so if the dalish are honest about their claim..."

"Theron just reported in," Sarya spoke up gravelly. "He's seeing refugees marching towards the nearest settlements. They confirmed it, and Darkspawn sacked their town."

"Blessed, Andraste," Kail muttered in horror. "Our forces have been too focused on the Orlessians. The Blighters emerged without warning, and it would have been too late before any scouts could have reported back."

"Damnation!" Lanya swore loudly, "Tell your friend to get as close as he can. We need an approximate number of these monsters!"

"He's already on it."

Marcus shifted his gaze to their returning friends, "You're back, good."

"We heard enough," Leliana said with worry, "Darkspawn are emerging from the north?"

A grave nod came from Oryrn, "A small but sizable horde of the abominations."

Parth interjected, "We have to focus on stopping these Blighters."

A huff escaped Brianna's lips, "Outside of Bann Lanya's soldiers and your combined forces, and it might not be enough."

"If the size is large enough, we might need Durnehviir along with Odahviing," Serana turned her hooded gaze to her lover.

The Dunmer crossed her arms, "Think you might be right. And need to bring him up to speed on things anyways. He will be upset I waited till now to summon him."

"Excuse me," Kail garnered their attention, "But who are these Odahviing and Durnehviir lads?"

"Ah, I'll need to introduce you," she then turned a gaze to her Thedasian comrades, "And none of you have met Durnehviir yet."

"Before all that, what about the Alienage and Edgehall?" Neria remarked with concern. "And the other small villages around here?"

"Cardiff was the northernmost settlement in this region. Anything else is around Edgehall," Bryton explained. "So whatever comes next will be here."

"Damn it, and we can't fight the Darkspawn and the Lendon simultaneously!" Parth grit his teeth in impotent rage.

As the situation seemed to deteriorate, Alistair offered an option.

"Then we don't."

Multiple gazes were drawn to him in surprise.

"We go to Lendon and arrange an accord to fight the Darkspawn together," The heir to the throne said, though he wasn't happy about the option.

"That'll never work," Kail refuted with a shake of his head. "Lendon is a pig-headed man who won't cooperate with people he knows who want him gone."

Gin was giving Alistair a look of betrayal mixed with hurt, "You've seen how he's treating people, how he's treating the elves. And yet you have the gall to suggest this?"

"The mercenaries he commands are numerous, not to mention experienced and very well armed," Alistair argued. "Odahviing can soften the Darkspawn numbers for us, but even then, it won't take out the whole Warband. We risk losing the arling if we don't use every advantage we can get"

"I don't like it either, but Alistair is right," Gin shot a look of anger at Neria, who sided with their human friend, "We need fully trained soldiers to fight the Darkspawn. Bann Lanya's is all we got right now. We need more."

A growl came from the city leaning against the table. The thought of reaching out to a scum who treated his people like animals made him sick.

Parth shared an equal sentiment but more toward Gell Lendon himself. "As much as I'd rather walk on broken glass with bare feet, we don't have a choice. But as my fellow Bann expressed, Lendon will say no, or go as far as saying the Darkspawn coming is a ruse to be usurped as Arl."

With those words, Brianna deadpanned, "Seriously?"

"Yes," Bryton quipped, "his paranoia rivals his arrogance."

"We do not have time for pointless debates," Sten interjected, surprising the others, "Either we unite these forces to stop the Darkspawn or leave them to their fates and resume our quest to end the Blight." He cocked a brow as Sofie smacked his arm.

"That was a bit cold big guy." The Nord glared alongside Leliana.

"Compassion has no place in warfare."

"While I agree," Miara addressed, turning her gaze to the Qunari, "We will not abandon these people to those monsters." Severe finality resonated from her voice that broke no argument.

"You support this?" Gin said in disbelief.

"I'm a soldier first in this situations, and I know when there is a time for pragmatism. And in this case, joining forces with Lendon and securing the aid of his mercenaries gives us a better chance for less of our allies dying," The dunmer replied, "And if he still resists, then we'll just have to kill him and deal with this ourselves."

"This is a waste of time..." The city elf muttered, walking away and wallowing in his frustrations.

Bryton sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We need someone to parlay with him."

"I'll go," Marcus quickly volunteered. "Alistair, you stay here with the rest. Miara, Zevran, Leliana, you accompany me. I'll need you in case we need to dispose of him."

"I'm going too," Gin spoke up from his spot further away. "When this fails, and it will, I want to be there to make sure that shem dies."

Marcus thought about it for a moment but, in the end, allowed it with a nod towards his companion.

"If you'll have me, I want to go to," Neria, too, offered, "I was the one who pushed for another way. So I need to be there and see if it can be possible with my own eyes."

"And it's not?" Miara asked.

"Then I know I was wrong."

A low sigh came from Wynne and was glimpsed by Faren, "You doing alright?" His tone was surprisingly respectful.

"Just feeling my age at times like these."

"Need a break?" Sereda asked.

"Heh, not that old yet, my dwarven friends."

Sofie observed the departing company beside her vampiric mother and brother, "Take a guess how it ends?" She asked her family.

"One very dead horse's ass." Serana chimed with certainty.

Oryrn sighed, rubbing his eyes while a grumbling whimper came from Loke.

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

The walk back to Edgehall was silent, with tension still glowing from Marcus and Gin's earlier spat upon arriving at this place, which did not go unnoticed by anyone, especially the city elf. But while he wanted to apologize, his anger towards the individual they would see overruled his reason.

"So," Zevran glanced to Leliana, "I forgot to mention you can drop your accent quite remarkably. I would have thought you a Ferelden."

"My mother is Ferelden, and while I was born and raised in Orlais, I consider myself Ferelden." Then, a sly smirk crossed her lips, "I wouldn't be a good bard if I couldn't blend in."

"Best to keep that fact to yourself," Marcus advised as they crossed the archway leading into the town. It was very blunt, but they didn't have any other way of handling it. They would need to speak to Lendon directly, but it wasn't like he had any reason to suspect they were allied with the people seeking to thwart him. Paranoid as he was, he wouldn't attack them unless he felt he could get any information. "Right now, the banns here do not have the best attitude towards Orlais. Being an orlesian bard would paint a target on your back."

"You do not need to tell me."

Miara, once more donning her Nightingale gear, made sure to survey their surroundings. The mercenaries were keeping an eye on them but otherwise made no move. Say what you want about them, but their armor motif was something she could praise. Stylish and of excellent quality, the shining metal brought out the best aesthetic of the lion carvings in their gear and the curved armor plates.

They drew closer to the Edgehall keep, a tall building far from the Redcliffe castle's defensive structure. Two orlesians in heavy lion-themed armor stood by the door, and one raised his hand to stop them from coming any closer. "State your business," His voice was somewhat muffled by the metal mask, but the accent was still apparent. Miara wondered briefly if it was too different from Leliana's, be it by region or social status.

Neria answered, "We are Gray Wardens, and we seek to warn the Arl about an encroaching Darkspawn Warband."

Instead of being met with skepticism, the guards' posture stiffened. "Darkspawn?" One said to the other.

"This far west already?" The first guard said nervously, and it was clear these mercenaries were well aware of the situation in Ferelden and were not comfortable remaining in land currently under siege by the Blight.

"We must speak with Arl Lendon at once," Marcus stated with urgency.

The guards looked at one another before nodding to the former noble and opening the doors. "Mind yourselves. The Arl is in a mood." One guard warned before closing the doors as the six entered and trekked through the keep's hall. While much plainer than castle Redcliffe or Highever, it was still a regal interior befitting a noble's manor. Ornate paintings and a few statues littered the hall with candlelight providing illumination.

Not surprisingly, several guards were also dotting the halls, their masked faces observing their every movement. None spoke as they passed through the threshold into the main chamber of the keep. Once more, it did not compare to others but still held itself above the common. This could not be said for the man sitting on Edgehall's throne in posh garments.

Average height and build, short brunette hair, and fair skin with rather unflattering features, "Marcus Cousland," he spoke with an irritating rasp that grated on Gin's ears. "It has been some time." Gell's almond eyes shone with arrogance.

"Arl Gell Lendon," Miara could hear the tiniest hint of disgust from the young man. "Fortune favored you well, I see."

"As if the Maker knew the truth and finally gave me what was always mine."

A man in full Orlesian plate armor stood close to the Arl, minus the helmet. With robust facial features, short black hair, and a thin mustache, Neria and the others figure this to be Marcel Corbin.

Gell leaned a bit forward, "I see you brought some new pets with you."

While Neria and Zevran remained silent at the direct insult, Gin made a sound of barely restrained anger. Miara placed a hand on his chest, urging him to stay calm.

Marcus could not rise to the bait, and it would only make things more difficult. "My comrades," He emphasized the word, "and I am here to warn you. They are Wardens, and they have witnessed an approaching Darkspawn Warband coming towards Edgehall" His words erased the previous silence from the guards, who muttered among themselves this frightening development.

But Gell did not seem to care. He merely raised a brow in mild curiosity. The orlesian at his side frowned, showing a semblance of concern at their warning.

"Really? I've heard nothing of the sort."

"The warband has recently emerged from the northern Deep Roads entrances," Marcus said, "Already they've sacked Cardiff."

"Territory under the banns," He waved it off. "Is this their new tactic to scare me with tales of the Blight?"

Maker, he could not be this foolish and paranoid...

"These are no lies," Neria stepped forth, her staff tapping on the floor as she did so. "Our fellow Warden has witnessed the Darkspawn himself. It's only a matter of time before-"

"Do you always let knife ears talk boldly like that to their betters?" Lendon sneered with disgust. "Keep her mouth shut, Cousland."

Neria's grip tightened on her staff, but she said nothing.

"Just say the word," Miara whispered silently behind her hooded mask. "And everyone here dies."

The situation here was quickly deteriorating, to say the least.

"My lord, if I may?" Then, with a heavily accented voice, Marcel intervened as he leaned into the man's ear. "Darkspawn attacks are known to happen everywhere near Deep Road entrances, and it's well recorded they are known to emerge at multiple points simultaneously during a Blight, even far away from the main horde."

Much to the Chevalier's frustration, the Arl only let out an annoyed scoff, "There is no Blight. Only rats are skulking about wanting what they can never have."

"My Arl-"

"I will not hear further of this nonsense!" Gell declared with fury in his tone, slamming his hand on the armrest of his throne. By the Maker, Leliana has seen her share of irrational nobles, but this man was pushing the lines of sense. "And as for you, Marcus, I have half a mind to send you and your whore and precious pets in chains and my dungeon for pestering me from actual duties. Now leave before I change my mind."

Disgruntled, Marcel dismissed himself with angry steps, walking passed Marcus and the others. Neria kept her gaze on the man as he stormed off, muttering in Orlesian.

Marcus held Leliana's arm upon noticing the anger in her eyes being offended by the Arl. Gin did not bother staying as he had already turned on his heels and left the room, followed by Zevran. Miara remained with her hooded visage staring right at the young noble who looked back. 'Only Lendon,' he mouthed as he made Leliana go with him out of the room. The Dunmer had faded like a spirit upon passing her. None were even aware of her presence within the keep when she dawned her Nightengale armor outside her companions.

Gin's body shuddered with righteous anger, trekking down the hall, "Knew that was a waste of time."

"I've met my share of prickly nobles. But none as insufferable as that lout," Zevran muttered.

Marcus and Leliana were soon beside them, with Neria trailing while keeping an eye on Marcel, who leaned against the hallway's wall beside one of his men. "I should have listened to Kail and Parth. I apologize for putting you all through that."

The four kept their pace brisk as Neria came to a stop. Then, glancing to her departing friends and back to the Chevalier, she made herself resolute before moving her steps towards the disgraced noble grumbling with his men. "Ser Marcel Corbin." She garnered the two men's attention before giving a polite bow, "Neria Surana of the Grey Wardens."

"Eh bien, elle est pas mal à la recherche d'une oreille de couteau.," the mercenary beside Marcel remarked in Orlesian.

The Chevalier, however, only kept his gaze at Neria, who did the same. Then, brow cocked, he spoke, "Was there something you require, Warden?"

"Only a moment of your time."

The mercenary leader looked back at the rest of her companions, too wrapped up in their discussions and arguments to notice she wasn't with them. Hmph, the young elf had to be as quiet as a mouse for her presence to be overlooked.

But that did not mean she wasn't dangerous, and she wasn't only a Warden, she was a mage. Mages only needed a gesture to set someone on fire. Marcel would know. He had more than a few apostates among his ranks.

He glanced at his soldiers, who understood his message from his look alone. Then, he invited the young woman to follow him, "Right this way, please."

Guiding the elf through the halls of the keep, they arrived at the room that had been his office for the months he's been working in this Maker-forsaken country. With a faux courtesy, he let her come in. First, it was better if he had easy access to the exit. Second, Marcel gave the young woman a good look; her relaxed posture didn't convey ill intent. Either she truly just wanted to negotiate, or she was good at keeping a calm stance that threw people into a false sense of security.

Marcel had grown up with the Game. So he knew better than to assume.

His soldiers were already stealthily moving into the walls at the side of the door, ready to spring into action if need be.

The young elf perked up, looking at the Orlesian and the door behind him, which he had not fully closed. "The soldiers are unnecessary, and I only want to talk."

Right, those elven of ears sure were helpful.

"You can never be too careful in this line of work, mademoiselle," He replied, still ensuring he was as close to the door as possible.

"You do make a lot of enemies, I imagine," Neria could not keep her tone from being judgemental. "Sacking towns, overthrowing a local nobility."

Marcel had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. "Coin is coin, mademoiselle. I don't expect you to-"

"My name is Neria Surana," The mage interrupted.

He pursed his lips, biting back a sigh. "Lady Neria. I'm afraid I fail to see what your intentions are"

"It is straightforward; I believe," The elf replied, "I want to convince you to abandon Lendon."

A moment of silence passed, and the mercenary leader was sure some of his men outside were stifling laughter.

He gave a very humorless, dry look at the elf. "You have got to be joking."

"I am not good at humor, ser." Her tone was precise and courteous, "You don't like being here. Ferelden, in general. I'd imagine your men the same sentiment."

"Tu n'as aucune idée fille," Marcel muttered, "Perhaps. But Lendon has paid us generously and does not skimp on them either."

Neria gave a courtly nod, "All well and good. But does it genuinely get you what you want?"

"To restore your standing in Orlais."

A brow rose from the man, "You studied me."

"A powerful sword arm goes only so far. You need an educated mind as well."

Respect glows in Marcel's eyes if only a meager portion. Nevertheless, meeting someone who took proper education seriously felt refreshing. Even though said education in Ferelden was stunted compared to Orlais.

Neria began to pace around the room, "Chevalier is meant to hold themselves to a higher station than a common knight, yes?"

"Un chevalier est plus qu'un simple titre," Marcel roproached sternly.

"Comme j'ai lu." The man and guards were shocked that Neria spoke fluent Orlesian without a mistake. The elven mage was just mentally happy that Leliana taught her the language. "Honor is revered above all to a Chevalier." She stopped before him, "And you want to restore yours among your fellow nobles in Orlais."

"And joining the Banns against Arl Lendon will do that for me?"

"No, it's doubtful it will."

Well, now that was a turn. He was expecting the elf to give some convoluted spiel as to why he should join them.

"You're not making an excellent case for yourself."

"Because I have nothing you could truly desire, all I can give you is the truth," Neria solemnly said, "If you keep fighting for Lendon, you will die."

Marcel said nothing, the way she said it... it wasn't a threat, but it was like she was merely stating a fact.

"Lendon is already dead," Again, she continued as if it was nothing. "It's only a matter of time, and my companions are very good at what they do. Horrifically good"

Marcel should have run by now. He should have gone to Lendon and warned him while ordering his men to detain her... but he remained where he was, listening.

"And once he is dead, they will come for you. Your men will resist, many will run, and others will keep fighting. It'll create unnecessary bloodshed when the Darkspawn is already drawing close."

Marcel rubs his chin, "So you are offering an olive branch for my men and me to survive."

"Yes, Bann Lanya is the only one with fully trained soldiers. The rest only have hardy militia but no proper combatants. Bann Kail hired a mercenary company, but we need more numbers against the Darkspawn. You'd be a great boon if your men are numerous, exceptionally armed, and highly experienced."

The man's eyes moved as his mind raced with thoughts, "Assuming we join you and survive. What then?"

Neria shrugged, "Once the Darkspawn is gone, you can leave."

Skepticism bloomed on Marcel's face, "The Banns would just let us leave?"

"The Banns will be busy figuring out who becomes the next Arl while worrying about the Blight. So I think you and your company leaving is best for everyone's sake."

Silence took the room till an amused chuckle came from the disgraced noble: "You are a far more cunning and shrewd woman than I expect, Lady Neria. It is rare to see people of such character… but you would not survive the Game."

"I'm just honest."

"Which can be a double-edged sword if not careful, and exactly why the Game would swallow you up."

"And does the blade cut my hand here?"

Marcel extended his hand, which Neria took, "Nous avons un accord ma dame."

"Merci bon ser."

"I will inform my men of our arrangement. So you're certain that fop is already dead?"

Neria thought about it for a moment. "It's been a few minutes. So, yes, I'm positive."

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

Having retired from the prattle early from Marcus Cousland, Gell announced he'd to be in his study, so he should not be bothered. For which now his lifeless body sat motionless on his chair. Blood seeped from the slash in his throat. His eyes were wide with fear which remained with Miara standing over him. A black-colored gem shattered in her hand, and its pieces fell to the floor.

"Enjoy the Soul Carin Arl Gell Lendon. Rendon Howe will join you soon enough."

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX