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Gherlen's Pass, where the entrance to what Bodahn called 'the Hall of Heroes', was a frigid, almost entirely inhospitable place surrounded on all sides by either even more frigid and inhospitable forest, stretching along the Frostback Mountains wherever they could cling to life along the snowy slopes. Paths like their own had been cut through them, lined by by thick, ancient stone reinforcements to fight erosion on the downward side, reinforced and repaired by wood in hundreds of places, that lead up through the Pass. It was hard going, and cold enough they all needed the thick wool and fur cloaks Bodahn had bought them, and Jaune was certain that any misstep could lead to every last one of their deaths.

And yet… "This is actually the safer path up?"

"Through, not up." Lellianna corrected him gently, walking beside him and watching her step as they went. Morrigan had healed her as best she could, but she wasn't as good at it as Flemeth, apparently, and the young Chantry woman still had a lot of healing to do. Tightening her thick, warm robe around her, Lelianna peered at him from under her fur-lined hood. "Gherlen Pass is a winding mess, truly, yet it is far safer than the Sulcher's pass. It is slower to reach Orlais beyond, though."

"Luckily we are not headed into Orlais, or even the roughest parts of the Gherlen Pass, from what I understand." Morrigan offered from his other side, wearing the same sort of thick robes as Lelianna, made of dark-colored wool with patches of leather along its joints. She only had cloth wraps for her arms, though, in contrast to Lelianna's thick leather and wool shirt. Better for spellcasting, she'd explained when Jaune had asked, worried about her staying warm. Sighing, she murmured, "Though, I would love to see the city…"

"Which city?"

"What?" She blinked, shot him a look, then glared and shook her head, "I said nothing."

"You…" Jaune started, then stopped and shrugged, "Sure, yeah. Must have been the wind."

"Indeed." Morrigan nodded, picking up her pace when Bodahn's cart got stuck in the snow again and she flexed her fingers, fire crackling along one hand before she clapped and it spread to the other.

While she worked, melting the snow around the wheels under Bodahn's instructions so they could get it out of the ice, and Sten and Alistair waited to push if needed, Jaune turned back to Lelianna, "Do you want to sit for a minute? Rest your leg, while Morrigan gets us moving again?"

"That would be nice, yes." She nodded, gesturing at a rock a few feet away, right at the base of a sheer cliff, "That will do."

"Need a hand?"

"No." She shook her head, "I only need you beside me, in case I fall."

"Of course."

He helped her over quietly and the snow off the rock so she could sit, stretching out her leg and rubbing her thigh around the healing injury. Jaune watched her long enough to make sure she was alright and then, when she looked up, flinched away from her red hair. Quietly, she murmured, "You dislike me… Don't you?"

"What?" He grimaced, turning to give her a look and then frowning when she only stared up at him, face impassive and hard. "Why… Why do you ask me that?"

"Every time I meet your eyes, it is always a question of chance of whether or not I will see… Something dark, written into your very features." Lelianna answered quietly, sounding less… Well, less unhappy and more concerned as she spoke. "It is as if a great wound is prodded every time we interact. And you are not able to quite resist the pain, every time…"

"Yeah, well." He sighed, scowling and turning to watch Sten pushing the cart to free it. "Ask your Maker, I guess. See if you get another prophecy."

"Ah." She murmured, "So you do disdain me…"

"No, I don't- It's not- You aren't the problem here… Okay?" She looked unconvinced and, after a moment, he shook his head and turned, sitting beside her at the edge of the icy rock. Quietly, he explained, "You… Look a lot like a couple of people I used to know. I- I lost them. Both of them. And both were- Look, I really don't want to talk about this."

"I can tell as much."

"Oh?"

"You look on the verge of tears, Jaune." She answered, voice distant and soft.

"Oh, I'm being that obvious, huh?" He sighed tiredly, taking a deep breath and rolling his shoulder as he caught his breath and fought to calm himself. Quietly, in spite of how he was trying to reign it all in, he rambled, "And worst of all, I know you've seen some of it. And that makes everything so much worse. Like the worst things I've ever experienced were packed up and packed, like… Like some movie for you to watch."

"Movie…?"

"Story." He sighed, "It's a kind of story."

"Ah." She murmured, turning her leg to the side to massage the inside of her thigh with her knuckles. While she worked, she went on, "I know I saw some, in my dreams and in my visions, but… I suppose I am sorry. I had not considered exactly how invasive it was. To me, it was simply guidance. A way to understand you. I was confused when you were so angry… And have been all this time."

"You didn't say anything until now…"

"I felt you needed space." She answered simply, "And so, I gave it."

"Yeah, well… I did need space, so, uh, thanks." He chuckled, turning as the cart finally came free. Standing, he shrugged, "I'll get over it, eventually, but… I don't hate you. I don't hate almost anyone. That's reserved for exactly three people. Maybe four. But… The three I'm sure I hate are a world away, so you can rest easy knowing you're not on the list."

"I will indeed rest easier, knowing that." She chuckled, standing and nodding when Alistair called out for them to get moving. "Come, then. Orzammar awaits."

"Yeah." He nodded, feeling just the tiniest fraction better, in spite of everything, "It does."

Another few hours passed quietly, and they only got stuck once more, before they reached the entrance to the Hall of Heroes, which Bodahn explained was a sort of… Memorial. A temple, kind of, once upon a time, that had been built up over the years. And, as the Deep Roads fell to the Darkspawn and cut off Orzammar, it was turned into its entrance.

"The Deep Roads have fallen?" He asked as he walked at the front, taking his turn with Sten to clear away any obvious ice or snow in their path. "Because of the Blight?"

"Darkspawn may only be a true threat during a Blight on the surface, but…" Bodahn sighed, "For my people, they are a continuous one."

"Blights happen when Darkspawn find a, uh, an Archdemon deep below." Alistair explained slowly, clearly thinking through every step of what he was saying. Whether because he was trying not to tell Bodahn too much, or because he was just trying to remember it at all, Jaune couldn't tell. Either way, the Warden went on before Jaune could think too much about it. "When they do, the Darkspawn leave the Deep Roads, the ancient Dwarven trade routes deep under ground, and come to the surface. I've… Actually heard a Blight is good for the Dwarves."

"It can be argued, yes." Bodahn answered, "Once the initial surge is resisted, at least, and most of the Darkspawn have left."

"You push out to reclaim empty territory." Jaune nodded, humming, "Makes sense."

"Indeed. But that also means there is, well…"

"Not a lot of inclination to rush to end the Blight. At least, not until they've made some progress on their end." Alistair filled in brightly, easing back in his seat beside the older Dwarf. "So our job is to either help them do that or convince them to help us anyways."

"But people will die if we take too long…"

"Yep!" Alistair smiled, "That's why we brought the Treaties. But we don't exactly have authority to punish someone for ignoring them, really, so…"

"So we have to make deals." Jaune sighed, a bitter taste washing into his mouth. He'd seen so much of this already, he shouldn't have been surprised. It could have even been good to find out that what Ironwood had done was normal, that it wasn't their fault or some… Unique kind of evil they'd allowed to take over in Atlas. Instead, it was just bitter, and he growled, "Because helping people is just not worth it."

"Everyone does the best they can for their people, in the end, so we have to make deals, do favors, and maybe save the world somewhere along the way." Alistair chuckled darkly, "Maker, do I love politics."

"Yeah, well, you can love your turn again now." Jaune snorted, "Until the politics start, at least."

Finally, as the sun began to dip behind the mountains, they reached their destination.

Orzammar's entrance was a wide, open clifftop maybe a hundred yards long, but half that at best wide. The cliffs on either side of it were sheer, but had been carved into high above. Massive statues looked down on it, standing on plinths carved from the stone itself and so worn from time and snow Jaune could barely make anything out on them. Armor, shields, axes and swords, but no faces. Stone roofs reached out ten feet or so from each of their feet, and recesses maybe five feet deep had been carved out beneath them, with columns at the front of each time-worn roof. One of the columns had long since fallen, and taken a chunk of a roof with it, but someone had replaced it with a new stone-brick pillar and wooden covers.

That someone had probably been one of the hundreds of refugees sheltering under the stone roofs in sardine-tight packed groups of tents inside roughly thrown together wooden walls that enclosed each little roofed in area. More tents filled the open space in between the two cliffs, but most of that space was taken up by more permanent looking shacks with wooden walls, stone bases, and thatched roofs with stones holding their bits in place. They didn't have much space between themselves, but what little there had been had been filled with cloth-topped stalls manned by merchants and priests selling wares or asking for aid, and offering it, between stalls with mules and oxen in them.

"It's like a small town…" Jaune murmured, standing at the entrance where a thick palisade had been raised, manned by men and women dressed like farmers with furs on top and carrying pitchforks. "A militia, so close to Orzammar?"

"Dwarves don't come above-ground, Sir Warden." Bodahn explained quietly, voice… Grave. "Aside from a few rare exceptions, you can't return once you go."

"What?" Jaune blinked, "Why?"

"Tradition." He shrugged, "It's just the way of things."

"And you chose this?" Jaune asked, a sudden kind of… Something welling up in his gut. Empathy, a bit, but also something darker than that, too.

"You should never ask a Dwarf that, Lad. There are dreadfully few happy reasons to leave, and less reasons that aren't too private to share…" He sighed tiredly, letting Jaune wave him into a spot just wide enough for both their carts. Standing in his seat, he turned to watch Sandal come to a stop, too, and smiled. "I intend to set up a stall here, at my carts, to distribute what we found and what I brought. Please, inform Master Alistair that I will use a quarter of profits to clear your debts. It's not like you can pay like you ought just now, hm?"

Jaune wasn't sure he wanted to think it, but…

That sounded almost like a threat.

"Right." He nodded, letting their conversation go. "Message received, Bodahn."

"Happy to hear it, son." He smiled, "Happy to hear it."

"Jaune!" Alistair called from a few feet away, where he and Morrigan were waiting. Sten was near him, of course, but Zevran lingered further away, eyeing the refugees and merchants and meandering militia all at the same time, head slowly turning to take it all in with his brows raised and his face impassive. That reminded him of Ren, in a way, always watching but with his face unreadable.

At least until Kuroyuri…

"Jaune?" He blinked and turned to face Lelianna, who was standing beside him, her fingers only barely touching his hand to get his attention - the only bare skin she could use to get his attention aside from his face, he supposed. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." He grunted, pulling away from her and clearing his suddenly tight throat with a cough. Looking for an excuse, he muttered, "Just, uh… Just thinking it was weird not to really see the Chantry here. Aside from a couple preachers, I mean, but they look like they came with the rest."

"Orzammar holds dominion out here, in view of the statues - their ancestors and their Paragons." Lelianna explained as they joined the others and turned, headed for the great, carved stone gate at the far end of the little town. Jaune could already see a ring of men and women in arm standing in front of it, and watched them as Leliana went on. "They will not attack our number if we come here, to the settlement outside, so long as we do not build here. It's an effort to preserve their culture, I believe."

"Understandable." If they'd been pressed back as hard as Bodahn said, that would be a very real concern for them. "Will they be friendly to us?"

"Dwarves are an independent sort, they don't like mixing, really, unless they get something for it.." Zevran offered, unprompted and smiling when Jaune flinched at how close he had gotten without him noticing, nearly rubbing elbows with Lelianna on her other side. Lelianna didn't seem to like it, either, her lips quirking down a bit as she backed away from him and into Jaune's side. He ignored them both, "We should be fine, down there, as long as we mind ourselves. And don;t, you know… Get involved."

"Involved in what?" Jaune asked.

Zevran only shrugged and paced a couple steps away as they reached the gate and the armored soldiers spotted them, spreading out to either side and shifting their heavy fur cloaks aside to rest hands on axes and hammers on their belts.

And Jaune heard a man dressed in lighter, more ornately decorated mail with two wide pauldrons etched in silver bellowing, "In the name of Queen Anora and Lord General Loghain, I demand to meet with the king of Orzammar as is my ambassadorial right! You have no right to-"

"We have every right." One of the brown-armored dwarves guarding the door cut in, holding his halberd in front of himself while two more to either side blocked the door. "This is Orzammar's land, not Ferelden's. Until the Assembly elects a new King, no one will be getting anything from Orzammar."

"A new King…?"

"Their old one died, it sounds like." Alistair answered quietly, shaking his head. "Because of course he did. Perfect timing. I swear, it's like someone wants things to be as hard for us as possible."

"Yeah…" Jaune sighed, frowning as the Dwarven guards looked at them and, in turn, the apparent ambassador of Loghain turned to face them. He was young, and held himself like a soldier more than a diplomat as he turned and made a gesture with his hand that had his soldiers tightening up to either side of him. "What now, Alistair?"

"Well…" He sighed, "We have to get in, and the Treaties technically give us a right to speak to the Assembly. They don't have a king, but the Assembly can still hear us, but…"

"Only if we identify ourselves as Wardens, right?" Alistair nodded and Jaune frowned, shaking his head and stepping forward. Clearing his throat, he spoke past the ambassador and to the guards instead. "I am Jaune Arc, of the Grey Wardens, and I come bearing a treaty granting us the right to speak to the Assembly regarding the ongoing Blight!"

"The Wardens…?" The ambassador hissed, flicking his guards looks that had them drawing their weapons.

"Whosoever starts a battle here in Orzammar shall face us, as well." One of the guards barked, their own formation tightening, their head-high axes raised warningly. "And such will be an act of war."

"The Wardens are enemies of the state!" The ambassador snarled, "They assassinated our King, and-"

"The hell we did!" Jaune barked, pointing a finger at the ambassador and snarling lowly. "Your General abandoned us to die! We did our job and he left Duncan and the King to be slaughtered by the Darkspawn! He is the assassin here, not one of us!"

"Well…"

"Shut it, Zevran."

"Actually…" The assassin stepped forward, producing a little scroll and pitching it at one of the Dwarves. He fumbled but caught it, unfurling it when Zevran gestured for him to. "As you can read, my stout comrade, Loghain hired assassins. Me, namely. To kill the Wardens."

"What does that matter?"

"Well, my pompous friend…" Zevran sighed, "Why hire assassins to kill actual criminals? To my mind, you hire people like me when you don't want a secret to get out. Like, say, the secret that you had your king killed."

"You bastard…"

"Ah, I do remember you!" Zevran clapped, turning to speak to the Dwarves again. "His name is Sebastien. You will find his name on that contract, stipulating my pay to murder the Wardens on the road! And now he wants very badly to take a group of armed soldiers to meet your nobility? How very suspicious."

"You have no proof that I-"

"This signature matches your own on the message you gave us." The Dwarf growled, holding his long axe out to push the man back and away and growling. "You are going to leave, now, or you will be removed. And Ferelden will be barred from our aid for the next five years, per our treaty."

"You…" Sebastien growled, backing away, "Loghain won't stand for this!"

"He can sit for it, then." The Dwarf growled, "Leave. Wardens, present your treaty."

Jaune breathed a sigh of relief as the man swore and left, stalking away while his soldiers shot them foul looks. With them gone, Alistair stepped forward to offer the ancient scroll to the Dwarf who took it gently, setting his axe aside to remove his armored gauntlets. Almost reverently, he opened it and read slowly, nodding as he did.

"It's real, by the Stone." The Dwarf rumbled, handing it back with both hands and nodding. "You may enter, Wardens, but… Do not expect much. The King is the only one who may march our warriors to war on the surface. And the Assembly is dead-locked."

"Well…" Morrigan sighed, "I suppose this is where we offer to help?"

"Yeah." Jaune chuckled, "Sounds like."

"Let's see what they need, first." Alistair suggested, "Then… The we see what we can do."

"Any help would be nice." The guard nodded, waving for the others to open the door for them. "Just… Don't expect too much. Whatever the case, welcome to Orzammar, such as it is."

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Splash :

As you can see, Zevran keeps his cards in his sleeves until he plays them. So while he's curious, yeah, he's still playing everything carefully.