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[Maria13]

I'm not! I've just drafted a 2000+ scene for one of the upcoming chaps of DR just for the fun of it... I think it's rather touching too though.

[maxernst]

15. MEMORIES: UNEXPECTED AID AND A DEMON CHILD

"How did you meet Aunt Leliana?" Rogier asked me after dinner the following night.

"Has she never told you?" I raised an eyebrow to Leliana. "She is the professional storyteller, after all. I am certain her account would be far more exciting to hear."

"Oh, I don't know, Aedan, you have been getting plenty of practice lately. and doing well enough."

"I'd like to hear it through your eyes, as well. Besides," Sybille added in a penetrating whisper worthy of the theatre, "Leliana has been known to exaggerate."

I laughed. "Well, it was in Lothering, a village that lay in the south of Ferelden, near the Korcari Wilds, that we crossed paths. Alistair and I went there shortly after the Battle of Ostagar where all the Ferelden Wardens save us had fallen, with my hound Conal, and a mage, Morrigan. Morrigan had suggested we go there for news and supplies.

The news was all bad. It was really in Lothering, even more than Ostagar, that the true horror of the coming blight became clear to me. The village was crowded with refugees, hundreds of them, fleeing northward before the darkspawn. Loghain's had abandoned the south and taken his army back to Denerim, so it had no protection from the coming storm. We also learned that Loghain had proclaimed himself Regent, but that not all the nobles had accepted in him; rumors of civil war had begun. And—for us—the worst news of all that the Grey Wardens had been outlawed and there was a price on our heads in Ferelden. We had been there only a short while when a band of hungry refugees attempted to kill us for the bounty. They were poorly armed and easily cut down, but I regretted having to kill them. Then again, perhaps they would have met worse fates had they lived.

Why did Loghain outlaw the Wardens? That's a good question. He claimed that we had betrayed the King. We were supposedly agents of Orlais working to restore Orlesian rule in Ferelden. Perhaps he just needed a scapegoat for the disaster at Ostagar. Perhaps he had guessed that Alistair had survived, and viewed him as a potential rival for the throne for his daughter Anora, Cailan's widow. I don't know.

Once we learned of the bounty, we stopped announcing ourselves as wardens, of course, but the news had spread quickly despite our best efforts. But simply outlawing us was not enough; Loghain had left a few men in Lothering to try and kill any wardens who might have survived the battle. We were confronted by a group of his men at the inn. Seeing us in danger, a sister of the local chantry tried to intervene on our behalf. When th fighting broke out, she aided us, displaying unusual skills for a chantry sister. As you've probably guessed, it was Leliana. As to what an Orlesian bard was doing in a village chantry in southern Ferelden, well, that's a story you'll have to ask her sometime, if she has not shared it. She was quite insistent on joining our group, saying that she had a vision—"

"I had a dream," interrupted Leliana. "I should never have called it a vision, but…well, I had a very strong feeling that it was a true one."

"Leliana told us that the Maker had told her to aid us against the Blight. I must say Morrigan and Alistair were dubious, but at that point, I was leading an army of four, so I felt we needed the help. And she could, after all, fight.
We stayed just long enough to do a few jobs from the chantry board to raise money for supplies. By the time we left, the vanguard of the Darkspawn were already arriving; we fought a small group on our way out of town. It was painful to leave the village to its fate, but there was no way for five of us to defend against the horde that would soon be bearing down on the unfortunate villagers. I hope most of them were able to get out in time, but I have no idea…

Redcliffe, an Arling in the west of Ferelden was our destination. We had some old treaties that would compel the assistance of the elves, the dwarves and the circle of mages, but we felt these would avail us little if the army of Ferelden was arrayed against us. If my father had lived, things would have been so different…but he had not, and Highever had fallen to Rendan Howe. We would find no help there, and most of Father's friends and vassals had fallen at Ostagar. Alistair felt that Arl Eamon was our best chance of finding a sponsor powerful enough to aid us against Loghain. Although even then we had heard that Eamon had fallen so deathly ill that his wife had sent out knights in search of the Urn of Sacred Ashes in desperation.

When we arrived in Redcliffe, we found that Eamon's illness was the least of our problems. The village was suffering nightly assaults from an army of walking corpses that seemed to be coming from the castle, and there had been no contact with the castle for days. Eamon's brother, Bann Teagan begged us to help them fight off the undead.

Morrigan thought the village should be abandoned to its fate. For all her knowledge, she was often rather shortsighted, perhaps because of lack her experience. She did not seem to understand that we needed help from at least some influential Ferelden nobles, and Redcliffe was our best chance. I honestly thought Eamon was likely dead, but hoped that Teagan could champion our cause, as he was Teagan's heir if all those in the castle had perished, as I suspected. So we needed his help.

There were other factors, too. She knew better than the rest of us what we would be facing. Plus, Redcliffe had been Alistair's idea and Morrigan had not favored going there to start with. And she was always more comfortable—and easier to get along with-in the wilderness. She always seemed edgy and irascible in cities and villages-"

Leliana was nodding. "I know. That was why I was so surprised to see her in Val Royeaux."

My wine goblet clattered to the table, splattering bubbling, pale golden wine all about. "Morrigan is here?" I quickly apologized to Sybille and made to wipe up the mess, but Sybille's servants were efficiently cleaning it up and refilling my goblet.

The two women were staring oddly at me, but Alistair gave me a knowing nod. We should have suspected this. Why else would it only be in Orlais that the Wardens dreamt of her daughter? I silently cursed myself for not thinking of it earlier. "Why did you not tell me she was here?"

"I—didn't know it was important. You did not ask about her, and we were never really friends…I don't think she lives here, but she must be nearby."

"What's she doing here?"

"I have not had a chance to really speak to her, only seen her in passing, but I believe she acts as a sort of counsel to the Empress on arcane matters."

"Leli, I really need to see her. Do you know how to get in touch with her?"

Still puzzled by my urgency, she shrugged. "No, but I can…ask around, if it's important, tomorrow."

"Please do."

Rogier interrupted, "But what about the walking corpses?"

"We aided the villagers in their preparation as best we could. They were understandably terrified. There were a handful of knights, but the rest of the defenders had no combat experience, and the numbers of walking dead had increased each night. When night came, they began marching down toward us. The stench of their rotting flesh was overpowering and while not fast, they had an unnatural strength, and were not much bothered by blows that would kill a man.

Still, things went quite well, at first, as we assisted the knights in defending a barricade on the hillside above the village. We had found some oil in the village store, which we used to great effect. The undead are vulnerable to fire, and we were able to get many of them injured before they could reach us. Victory seemed at hand, when a messenger came from the village with the news that a second army had gone around our barricade unseen and attacked the village. Leaving the knights to man the barricade, we ran down to the village. Actually, I think we left Leliana with the knights because our campsite was up there and I feared losing all our travel gear, but the rest of us went down the hill.

Defending the village very nearly proved fatal. Wave upon wave of undead assaulted us; it seemed like there was no end to them. Nearly all of the village's able-bodied men were slain during the assault and I fell in battle myself, bludgeoned by one of the foul creatures. Ironically, I believe Morrigan was the only one of us who was never overcome, though none of us were injured beyond healing. But in the end, the village—well, its women, children and old men-were saved, at least temporarily. We still did not know what had happened in the castle, or the source of the undead army.

The following morning we approached the castle and Isolde, Eamon's wife unexpectedly appeared. She insisted Teagan return to the castle with her—alone—and was evasive as to exactly what was going on there. She blamed everything on a mage who had poisoned Eamon and summoned the undead, even after being imprisoned, but would not explain why it was so important for Teagan to go alone. Teagan went with her, but told us of a secret way into the castle.

The secret passage led into the dungeons below Redcliffe castle. I had hoped that last night's assault had emptied it of monsters, but there were still more undead to fight there, some of which were shades, corpses possessed by demons. But we had learned much from our difficulties in the battle and were able to overcome the monsters.

We found the mage, Jowan, of whom Isolde had spoken in the dungeon, an admitted blood mage who had been hired by Loghain to poison Eamon. Clearly, Loghain had been laying down the groundwork for his seizure of the country from Cailan for some time. We also learned something that Isolde had not told us—Jowan had been brought to the castle to teach Eamon's son, Connor, magic because she did not want to let him go to the circle of mages. The mage claimed not to know where the undead and demons were coming from, however.

We made our way out of the depths of the castle to its courtyard, thinking to open the gates and let Ser Perth and his knights in, but were waylaid by still more undead, including a powerful possessed undead called a revenant. Once again, we were nearly all defeated. When the rest of us had fallen, Alistair faced the revenant alone on the steps of Redcliffe castle, badly wounded and near exhaustion, all our healing potions consumed. Somehow, he found the strength to strike it down. Our journey—and Fereldens' best hope of survival—very nearly ended in the Redcliffe courtyard.

When the rest of us had been revived, we opened the gates and entered the main hall of the castle, to find a most startling spectacle. Isolde and her son were sitting in the audience chamber while Teagan capered and performed acrobatics for them. It soon became clear that he and the remaining guards were mind controlled by a demon that had possessed Connor, a boy about your age, Rogier.

The abomination made Teagan and his guards attack us, but Morrigan unleashed a lightning storm in the chamber that badly injured them and made them easy to defeat. Then, Connor ran away, Teagan came to his senses, and we were left with the problem of how to end the threat of the demon.

The obvious way was to kill Connor, and as much as I detested the idea of killing a child, I thought we had no choice. But Morrigan said that it was possible for a mage to follow Connor back into the dream where the demon had possessed him and defeat the demon there, forcing it to relinquish control of him. She told us this in a detached tone, as though it were of merely scholarly interest. It required a number of mages and a large supply of lyrium, however, so it seemed we could not do it.

Or could we? Isolde pointed out that the Circle of Mages was only a day's journey away. I had been planning to go there after Redcliffe, in order to secure the mages aid against the Blight. Worried that the demon would again go on a rampage, as soon as we departed, I left Morrigan and Alistair in Redcliffe, while the rest of us made haste for the Circle Tower. I thought that his templar skills and her magic would be enough to help Ser Perth and Bann Teagan would be enough to keep the demon under control.

I was not worried about a short journey to the tower with just the three of us. Leliana and I are difficult to ambush, so I expected we could avoid danger, and I was not expecting a fight at the Circle. But, as with so many other things that year, gaining the aid of the mages proved more complicated than I anticipated…"

"Rogier, it's time for you to go to bed," said Sybille.

"Awww—but I wanted to hear the rest of the story..." he whined.

I laughed, "It's much too long a story for one night. And I did tell you how we met Leliana."

Rogier was sent off to bed, and Alistair and I returned to our own chambers to talk about Morrigan's presence. I was delighted that we finally had some clue to her whereabouts, though I wondered what had brought her to Orlais.

Modifié par maxernst, 11 décembre 2010 - 05:53 .

[maxernst]

16.    PALAIS DE MONTFLEURIE: A RECLUSIVE COUNSELOR
 
Several days passed as I waited for some clue as to how to proceed. Enrique left for Coteaux du Roche as planned, hoping to be back shortly after the festival began. Leliana seemed quite busy, with a great deal of nocturnal activity. She promised me that she would find out what she could about Morrigan, but had not yet shared any information.
 
I practiced my sparring and acrobatics and wandered the streets of Val Royeaux with Alistair. With no real way to advance my plans, I took perverse pleasure in attempting to make my activities as puzzling as possible for anyone who followed us. I chose five passages at random from the Chant of Light and quizzed every Revered Mother I happened across as to their significance. I browsed bookstores, buying codices on the heraldry of extinct Orlesian families, Nevarran cooking, and Qunari culture. More pragmatically, I purchased some maps of Orlais and a treatise on botany, in the faint hope that Enrique could find something described from a dream that would give us a clue where to look. 
 
The morning of the fourth day after our last meeting with Enrique, Leliana asked us to meet her in Sybille’s drawing room before dinner. Finally, I’m going to get some answers.. I arrived there sometime before she did and waited. A map had been laid out on the table. I studied it in the hopes that it had something to do with Morrigan’s whereabouts, though on closer inspection, that seemed unlikely.
 
The map depicted land holdings along the border between Orlais and Nevarra of various noble families, all meticulously named and the size of their estates noted. Someone had shaded the boundaries in colored ink. Judging by the names and the geographic pattern, blue was for Orlesian nobles, red for Nevarran. Although a general pattern could be discerned from predominantly blue in the west to predominantly red in the east, the middle of the map was a complex interweaving of the two, even the holdings of individual families were scattered. With such a poorly defined border, it was no wonder that the two countries had been at war intermittently for the past two hundred years. Based on my own experience of the unruly Banns in Ferelden, I had no doubt that there would always be skirmishes between the noble families in such a situation, even when the two countries were nominally at peace. Someone—was that Leliana’s hand?--had drawn arrows between some holdings and X’s across others, and scribbled a few question marks, as well. 
 
I was still studying the map when Leliana arrived, “Sorry for my lateness. I hope you were not waiting long.”
 
“Not too long. Is Sybille planning on purchasing some land?”
 
“Not for herself, no. The map pertains to potential land deals among some friends of hers. But I don’t want to bore you with such things. I did say I would try to learn more about Morrigan…”
 
I nodded expectantly.
 
“I’m afraid I haven’t been able to learn very much. She first appeared at court a little over a year ago…” Just about the time, Enrique had his first dream. “…but it appears she does not live in Val Royeaux, just visits the palace once a month or so. No one seems to know exactly where she does live, or even how she gets to the palace.”
 
“She probably comes to the city in the form of a bird or a cat or some other animal, rather than in her own human form.”
 
“Morrigan is human?” interjected Alistair.
 
I rolled my eyes. “How is the Chantry taking Celene’s association with an apostate?”
 
“They don’t know technically, though I’m sure they have their suspicions. It’s not as though she advertises it, and she’s not very visible. Most people have never heard of her, in any case.”
 
“What do you suppose Celene learns from Morrigan? And what is Morrigan getting out of it, I wonder.”
 
Leliana shrugged. “The Imperial Library is quite extensive; I would guess that Morrigan would find things of interest there, and…well, Celene has a boundless appetite for knowledge herself. Morrigan can probably tell her things no one else can.”
 
“So you don’t know any way to get in touch with her. Surely she must send messengers to her when she needs her counsel?”
 
She shook her head. “Perhaps, but if so, the messengers are very discreet.”
 
I clenched my fists in frustration. “But I need to see her. I thought for a moment. “I don’t suppose I could ask Celene herself?”
 
Leliana considered. “Given who you are, you might be able to get an audience with her. She would want something in return, however.”
 
I nodded. “Very well, then. I will request to meet with her.”
 
“I’ll talk to Sybille. It might be hard this close to the festival, but we shall see. Of course, I suppose she’ll want to hear more of the story. You’ve got Rogier interested now; he wants to know what happened to the boy who was possessed.”
 
“But you could tell the story better than me!”
 
“Ah, but now Sybille wants to hear it without my ‘exaggerations’” She sighed theatrically.
 
I matched her sigh for sigh. “Oh, very well. Let’s go to dinner and I will tell of the Circle Tower.
 
 

[maxernst]

17. MEMORIES: THE TOWER OF MADNESS



"So Leliana, Conal and I hurried to the small community that had grown up around the docks that served the Circle Tower, narrowly avoiding an ambush by bandits on the way. We stopped into the Spoiled Pricess—the curiously named inn there—to pick up some healing herbs and ran into the ferryman for the Tower. He told us that his boat had been commandeered by a Templar who was not taking anyone across.



My heart sank as I realized that this must mean that there was trouble at the Circle. At this point, I still imagined that my main problems were avoiding capture by Loghain's men and defeating the Archdemon. Naively, I expected that the treaties entitled me to the aid of the mages, dwarves and elves and thought I need merely show up and they would respond to the crisis. Like so many of my expectations that year, this proved not to be the case.



The Templar had a sense of humor, but I was in no mood for jokes and managed to intimidate him into taking me across to the Tower. There, I met the Knight Commander Gregoir, who explained that the Tower was infested with demons and abominations—so much so that the Templars had cut their losses and retreated, sealing the tower and whoever still remained there inside. He had taken the drastic step of sending to his superiors for a rite of annulment, and reinforcements to carry out the work of killing everyone still within.



I persuaded him to allow us to attempt to eliminate the demons and save what remained of the Circle, if it could be done. I felt we had to try. How could we hope to face the Archdemon and all the Darkspawn Emissaries in the horde with only one mage? With little optimism, I contemplated the prospect of the three of us taking on enemies the Templars had decided were too numerous and dangerous. In one sense, I regretted leaving Morrigan and Alistair behind, as their skills would surely be sorely needed to face demons. But in another, it was perhaps for the best. If we failed, at least Alistair be able to kill Connor and try to gather the other troops. Perhaps he could still succeed without us or the mages.



For once, we were luckier than we appeared. We had not gone far into the tower when we encountered a small group of mages battling a fiery rage demon. It seemed at least a few of the mages had survived and managed to carve out a small enclave of safety for a few young apprentices behind a magical barrier. They were led by the Senior Enchanter Wynne, who was naturally alarmed by what Gregoir had told me. Unfortunately, Gregoir had said he would not allow anyone out of the Tower unless either all were dead or First Enchanter Irving told him it was safe—and Wynne had no idea where the First Enchanter was, or even whether he was alive. Still, I felt much more confident entering the tower with Wynne's magic. Although she lacked the killing power of Morrigan's sorcery, she had great skill in magical healing and protection spells.



We had need of them. Even as Gregoir had said, the tower was filled with the hunger abominations and their unquenchable appetites, and the rage abominations in their mindless fury. Wherever we went, we found the charred and half-eaten corpses of circle mages and templars. But the survivors, hideous monsters still wearing the tattered and bloodstained remains of robes, were worse. I cannot imagine how Wynne bore it, seeing her friends and colleagues of many years so grotesquely transformed. I think it would have been worse even than what I experienced on the night of Howe's attack. At least my family were themselves to the end. To be forced to destroy the unspeakable creatures your friends had become must have been horrendous.



It was a long struggle to reach the top of the tower, far worse than the Tower of Ishual, but I was more experienced and confident in my abilities by then. A few things from the climb stand out in memory. Wynne found out from the Tranquil who maintained the supply room that a mage named Niall had sought protection from blood magic, and it was not long before we learned why—we were attacked ourselves. After we defeated them, one of them pleaded for her life, and I spared her. I was not sure it was the right decision at the time, but I felt she had learned her lesson and whatever they had planned, it had surely failed. Sometimes mercy is repaid with treachery, but not in this case, for she came to the Wardens not long after the Blight ended…"



"Was that Meghann?" interrupted Alistair. "I remember she said that she had met you in the Circle Tower, but I thought she was just one of the mages you saved. Though now that I think about it, she wasn't with the circle mages at Fort Drakon in the end."



I nodded. "It was Meghann. She escaped the tower and came to us when she was being hunted by the Templars."



Alistair frowned. "You never told me she was a blood mage."



"The Wardens are prepared to use any tools available against the Blight, as you know. She has served us well, has she not?"



"I suppose you're right."



"One of the saddest things I encountered in the Tower was a Templar who had been ensnared by a Desire Demon. He truly believed the demon was his wife and that they were enjoying a sort of idyllic family life. We all focused our attacks on the demon, expecting that once it was killed, it would break the spell. Alas, he was too far gone, and thought we had murdered his wife. We were forced to kill the poor man. Afterward, I read a part of his diary about how much he hated being in the Tower and yearned for a simple family life. The demon had spoken the truth when she had claimed to be fulfilling his desire, it seemed. I almost wondered if I had done the wrong thing, but I suppose the demon would have killed him eventually…well, really, even had we left them alone, the Templars would have killed them, after they reoccupied the tower.



The Templar reminded me of Alistair, in a way. By this time, Alistair had related his story to me, about growing up as a bastard in Redcliffe, then being sent away to the Chantry. I sensed that same longing for a family in him. I think the reason he took Duncan's death so hard was that the Grey Warden had been a sort of family for him. Sometimes I wish that…"



Reading my thoughts, Alistair put an arm around my shoulder. "You're my family, Aedan. And we have Fergus, and his children, too."



I nodded. "Though we had only been traveling together a few weeks, I missed him in the Circle Tower. I found myself thinking often of him: his silly jokes, the way his confidence in me encouraged me, his handsome face…the glimpses of his body I had caught when he bathed in a stream. Maybe it was loss that drew us together, too. He had lost Duncan, who had been like a Father to him, and I had lost my whole family. Already, the young man who had lost the family he had never appreciated enough was falling under the spell of the young man who yearned for a family he had never had. Or maybe he persuaded Morrigan to cast a love charm on me while we were away."



"Yes, that's right! You found me out. Morrigan and I were in it together from the start!"



"That explains a great deal. But to go back to my story, the most dangerous encounter we faced in the tower was the sloth demon that held Niall. As soon as we walked into the room, we too were trapped in a dreamworld and isolated from each other.



Sloth demons try to persuade human beings to idleness, that the things that they seek are either meaningless or already in their possession. I found myself in a vast chamber with Duncan, who told me that the Blight was over, Ferelden safe, and even that there was nothing left for the Wardens to do but enjoy their victory. But even with my mind fogged by the demon's spell, I knew something was wrong. Duncan was surely dead, and I remembered the Warden's motto: in peace, vigilance. If the Chantry is right and there are two more blights to come, perhaps the Wardens may put down their arms, but that time has not come, and the real Duncan would know that. The shade of Duncan the demon conjured attacked me when it knew it had failed to persuade me. After defeating it, I escaped my dream prison and began to explore the sloth demon's realm.



That was when I met Niall, who had given up hope, but gave me enough clues to enable me to find my companions and eventually the demon itself. My recollections of this time are…confused…I felt like I wandered in the fade for weeks battling mages, undead, burning men, darkspawn and golems, though I know this could not be true. I seemed to learn to transform myself into different things: a mouse to pass through tiny passages between places, a being of fire able to fling fireballs and pass through flames unharmed, a mighty golem that could break down massive steel doors, a being of spirit that could freeze his foes and see hidden doors. It was like disabling the mechanism of a vast and complicated system of locks that imprisoned us and protected the sloth demon.



I found Morrigan arguing with a shade that bore the visage of her mother. The demon had made the fatal error of playing a sweet, loving and nurturing Flemeth that Morrigan knew immediately for a fraud. Though she had worked out that she was in the fade, she had not found a way out. When she tried to come with me though she…disappeared. I found Leliana in quiet contemplation with a soothing personage that appeared to be a reverend mother, but was able to show her that it was really a demon, but then she vanished, as well. As to Conal, well, who knows what he saw, but he too disappeared when his master came for him.



I was reunited with my companions only when I came upon the demon's hidden central lair at the heart of this fade realm. The final fight itself proved less challenging than getting to that point, for though it transformed itself into beings of fire and fearsome strength, I had shape changes to match it. It's a pity I cannot transform myself like that in the real world. When we finally slew the demon in the fade, we came out of our dream and found ourselves back in the Circle Tower, but Niall was dead. The demon had fed on him for too long and his spirit was gone. We took the Litany of Andraste from him and went on upstairs to the top of the tower.



There, the abomination that had once been the mage Uldred was trying to force demons into the remaining Circle mages including Irving. Had he succeeded, he might well have overwhelmed us with abominations. However, armed with the litany, we were able to prevent him from seizing control of them with blood magic and kept him from raising more abominations against us. Niall, despite his deep sense of failure and sadness, had saved the Circle, in the end…or what was left of it.



First Enchanter Irving was happy to promise me the aid of the mages against the Blight and the resources to save Connor. We hurried back to Redcliffe, where I was relieved to find that the demon had been quiet and Morrigan and Alistair had refrained from killing one another. Wynne went into the Fade after Connor's demon and defeated it, and the boy was restored. Mercifully, he appeared to have no memory of anything that had happened.



And so our first major tests of the year had been passed. Though there had been much death and destruction at Redcliffe and the Circle Tower, order had been restored and we had gained some allies in the fight. There was still much more to do, but it was a start—and as much storytelling as I can manage tonight."

[maxernst]

THE PALAIS ROYEAUX: THE EMPRESS

"Now entering the throne room for his audience with Her Most Imperial Majesty, the Empress Celene: Arl Aedan Cousland of Amaranthine, Warden Commander of Ferelden." I took a deep breath as I walked into the vast throne room of the royal palace.

It had not taken Sybille long to arrange an audience. She seemed slightly surprised that Celene had agreed to meet me the following day, after Sybille had lodged her request with one of her ladies-in-waiting. Of course, it was a public audience, and I would be just one of many supplicants the Empress would see that day. Still, Sybille seemed to take it as a strongly positive sign that she had not chosen to keep me waiting.

As accustomed to dealing with royalty as I am—and I had met three monarchs before and helped to place two of them on their thrones—I was still awed by my first sight of the Empress. Perhaps I would have felt less exposed if Alistair had been allowed to accompany me, but the instructions had been clear: only I was to enter the royal chamber. She sat on a golden throne inlaid with jewels, raised on a dais high above the rest of her court. Her pale hair was coiled high above her head and so embedded with strings of pearls that no crown was needed. The room was filled with her courtiers, and as I slowly walked forward as directed by the herald, I noticed that not one of them, not even Sybille, was looking at me: they all watched her grey eyes to see how she was reacting. The Empress was the central figure of the Game; I a mere piece to be played. I wondered how someone little older than me could have such eerie self-posession. It had to be a façade, at least in part, but knowing that did not detract from its effectiveness.

I knelt before her. "Thank you for granting me this audience, Your Majesty."

"You may rise, Commander. We understand that you wish me to convey a message. We are not accustomed to being employed to run errands. We are not certain if we should be offended or amused by such impertinence."

The court giggled. I smiled nervously myself—it was a peculiar request—then schooled my features. "Believe me, I intended no offense Your Majesty. Unfortunately, I have great need to contact…a certain person, and I have no other means to do so. I would never have dared to trouble Your Majesty for trivial reasons."

"Were it not for your illustrious reputation, We would not have deigned to even entertain this audience, Commander. For it seems to us that the Lady Morrigan could have communicated with you at any time should she wish to do so? Your whereabouts at the Warden post in Amaranthine are hardly secret." At the mention of Morrigan's name, I felt the Divine's hard eyes on me, but I ignored him. I had hoped that Celene would not mention her by name.

"That is so, Your Majesty. The Lady Morrigan has not chosen to stay in contact with me, although I assure Your Majesty that we parted as friends. And it is as a friend that I have information that I am certain that she needs and would want to know."

"And what information would this be, Commander."

I blinked. "It is of a highly confidential and personal nature and I can hardly speak of it before the court, Your Majesty."

"Ah, so you wish to further inconvenience us with a private audience, to impart this information. We must inform you that we rarely give private audiences, and never lightly."

My mouth went dry. "I intend only to pass this knowledge to Morrigan, herself. Your Majesty."

Her eyes widened and she spoke with cold, though possibly feigned, fury. "There are no secrets kept from me within my Empire, Commander."

I took a deep breath. "At the risk of making Your Majesty more irate, I must point out that this is not so. The Chantry and its Templars have secrets that are kept from all outside, as do the Circle of Mages…and the Grey Wardens."
"Then you intend to betray the Warden's secrets not to me, but to the Lady Morrigan?"

Had she been talking to Yves? Before thinking, I snapped "After what I have done for the past six years, I am not accustomed to defending my integrity as a Warden." The court gasped—people did not take that tone with the Empress. I winced, thinking that I would likely pay for this misstep.

"Indeed?" she asked. A slight smile flickered across her face and was gone. Yves had spoken to her. I was sure of it. "It might be amusing to challenge your honor, have our champion fight you or your Alistair for the court's entertainment, and see some of your legendary skills on display."

She studied me for a moment and I struggled to maintain my composure under that searching stare. Her tone suddenly softer, she said, "However, We are certain that a man of your reputed quality can provide greater entertainment in other ways. A few minutes ago, you smiled briefly. We would like to see you smile again, Commander. Smile for us."

Totally caught off guard, it took a moment for me to muster an awkward smile.

"Yes," she responded with a knowing smile of her own. "We have made our decision. We will assist you in conveying a message to the Lady Morrigan, though we cannot promise that she will see you."

My mouth dropped open in surprise. "Thank you, Your Majesty," I stammered.

"You will, of course, be required to assist us in some fashion, in return for this service. Do not worry, it will not interfere with your main calling." The peculiar emphasis she placed on the word calling made me wonder just how much she knew about the Wardens. "You may go, Commander. Instructions as to how to deliver the message and what you will do for us in return will be sent to you at the Comtesse de Montfleurie's estate."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." I knelt down in front of her once more, and walked out of the throne room. As I left, the only possible explanation for her behavior occurred to me. The smile had tipped her off. She had just realized that I was the father of Morrigan's child.

So how did your audience with the Empress go?" asked Leliana over dinner.

I thought about that for a moment. "Well, it could have gone much worse. She agreed to help me get a message to Morrigan. I think she learned more from me than I wanted her to, however.

"Oh, she does that to everyone," observed Sybille. "I thought it went brilliantly for you." She studied me in the candlelight. "Is it that scar on your chin, I wonder? I've never seen anybody get so much out of a smile from the Empress before, particularly after making her angry. I suppose she must plan to take you as a lover."

"What?" exclaimed Alistair.

"I do hope not. Given that I have limited experience and less success with women, I suspect I would be a disappointment to her…and I can't think that disappointing the Empress would be advantageous."

"Some women might feel that inexperience lends a man a certain appeal, you know," commented Leliana.

"Then I suppose I should be thankful I did not bring Alistair along on this occasion." I put a hand on Alistair's muscular thigh. "My dear, if it will ease your mind I suspect her majesty's interest in my smile was not carnal. As I said, I believe she learned something that I did not intend her to—but it may be why she was willing to help." I'll explain later, I mouthed to Alistair.

Modifié par maxernst, 06 janvier 2011 - 01:54 .

[maxernst]

19. MEMORIES: A ROSE IN THE DARKNESS

Later that evening, we were all gathered in Sybille's sitting room when she asked, "So—when did you and Alistair become lovers?"

I chuckled. "Well, it was quite a process, I must say. It probably really began in my mind when I was away from him, at the Circle Tower. When we returned with the mages to expel Connor's demon, Alistair looked so…delighted, almost childish. I wanted to hug him.

After clearing up Redcliffe's problems, I really expected Bann Teagan to take our case to the Landsmeet. I was quite annoyed with his insistence that only his brother had enough pull to do it. After all, from what I've heard, Teagan was the one who stood up to Loghain when he declared himself Regent and enough banns were inspired by that to rise up in arms! But no, we had to go chasing after the Sacred Ashes when he himself was skeptical they could be found, or that they would work. I see you shaking your head at my lack of faith again, Leli, but really—they had been lost for centuries. I wasn't pleased by the idea that we should go chasing after legends under the circumstances.

The other thing was that the only lead we had on them was in Denerim. I was worried about whether we could go there safely, with Loghain's men hunting us. Besides, I knew we would need to go to Orzammar eventually and since we were already in the west, I decided to head for the Frostback Mountains. Eamon's condition appeared to be stable, so I decided that looking for the ashes could wait. Besides, it was nearly Harvestmere and I wanted to get the dwarves' aid before winter set in because Gherlon's Pass can be snowed in for months.

What does all this have to do with me and Alistair? Well, I think it was as we were leaving Redcliffe that I had the conversation about…lamp posts. And as I said before, the choice of image—and how embarrassed Alistair became when I implied that I was an experienced lamp post licker—made me think that maybe there was a chance…

But I had no idea how to approach him, for not all men welcome the attention of other men. I was afraid he might be repulsed. Oddly enough, I think the newest addition to our company really spurred me to make a move…"

"The mage Wynne encouraged you to pursue him?" inquired Sybille.

"No, Zevran. I think we were about halfway to Gherlon's Pass when we were ambushed by a pack of assassins. I'm still not quite sure why I spared the lead assasin's life and added him to our company. I suppose I was touched by his story of growing up as a slave, sold to the Crows…I hope it wasn't just the flattery."

"It did seem a risky move at the time," commented Alistair.

"Yes, you were none too pleased, as I recall. Zevran flattered me and made it clear that he fancied me from the start. I had never met anyone who was quite so…forward with other men—well, with women, too. It's kind of hard to explain, if you haven't met him…"

"I have met him," said Sybille. "I know exactly what you mean."

Seeing my look of surprise, Leliana explained, "Zevran was in Val Royeaux last year. He assisted me with a…problem we were having, actually."

I chose not to pry. "He's not still here, is he? Are all of us in Orlais, now?"

She shook her head. "Last I heard, he was in Kirkwall. He doesn't tend to stay in one place very long."

"No, I suppose not. I guess I felt that if he could be so open with me, a man he had just met, surely I could hint to Alistair that I found him appealing as more than a friend. I was so nervous about being rejected, but shortly before we reached Gherlon's Pass, I gathered up my courage and told him I thought he was handsome. And he got so flustered."

"Well, I was just not expecting it at all. I mean, it wasn't like I was used to getting compliments like that."

"But you had to know that you were a handsome man."

Leliana giggled. "Maybe not. I've never known a man more oblivious to his own charms. I remember when we were in Denerim how he never seemed to notice all the young girls bumping into market stalls and dropping pails of water when he walked nearby or glanced at them."

"I'm sure that never happened. If it did, I'm sure they were looking at Aedan. Anyway, nobody told me I was handsome in the Chantry and the women who did on the street were not…respectable people. Not like Aedan. Besides, when he left me and Morrigan at the Circle Tower, I thought maybe he wanted some time alone with you, Leli."

"Really?" That anyone would think that had never crossed my mind. "Well, to get back to my story, there were a few problems getting to Orzammar….bounty hunters and some fool ambassador from 'King Loghain' who insisted on attacking us when the dwarven guard elected to let us in, but not him.

For the Dwarves letting anyone in—it was only because I was a Grey Warden that it was permitted. A few weeks before we arrived, their King had died and the Assembly had been unable to choose a new one, deadlocked between supporters of Prince Bhelen and Lord Harrowmont. Naturally, with no King, there was no one who could authorize sending troops to aid Ferelden. In a pattern that was becoming irritatingly familiar, there was no way we were going to get any help from the Dwarves unless we solved their problems first.

Seeing that we were desperate to find a way to break the deadlock so that the Dwarves could choose a new King, the seconds of both men lobbied for our support. Bhelen's man wanted us to persuade two of Harrowmont's supporters to switch sides by showing them some documents, while Harrowmont's man wanted us to enter a Proving—a sort of tournament—on his behalf.

Bhelen's task sounded easier and I might well have taken it except that I spoke to the Shaper—I don't know what you would call him, sort of the like the Divine for the Dwarves, but not exactly—and showed him the documents, which he told me were forgeries. He also told me things about Bhelen, that gave me pause, that made me think he would be a tyrant. I've often wondered now if I should have trusted him. In retrospect, it occurred to me that—if the Criers could be believed—Bhelen wanted to bring big changes to Orzammar and the Shaper was a very conservative dwarf. And Maker knows, Orzammar could use some changes."

"Bhelen was a snake!" objected Alistair. "He had his own brother killed."

"We don't know that." I sighed. "I don't know. I was back in Orzammar on the way here and it seems that Harrowmont didn't work out very well."

"It seems to me," observed Sybille, "that a people who expect a total outsider to choose a King for them deserve what they get."

"You have a point. In any event, I chose Harrowmont and we won the tournament, though the final fight was a difficult one. But that still wasn't enough. It seemed that I would never accomplish anything that year without a lot of killing.

There were the men who attacked us in the commons because I was supporting Harrowmont. The men who attacked us when I was looking for a stolen book from the Shaper's library. Such pointless, stupid deaths. Killing men because they supported a different King when I really knew too little to care who held the crown, killing others over a book. And then Harrowmont wanted me to clear out a cabal of thieves in Dust Town, where all the casteless dwarves live. It felt like we killed half of Dust Town.

And even that was not enough. He was convinced the only way he could get the Assembly on his side was if a Paragon—it's a little like being an Anointed for us, only it happens while they're still alive—crowned him. But Orzammar had only one living Paragon and she had disappeared into the Deep Roads with her entire noble house a few years earlier.

How were we to find him? Her husband, Oghren, a drunken and disgraced Warrior said he knew what she sought in the Deep Roads, and that would help us find her. We followed his lead into the endless dark tunnels.
I remember being shocked by the amount of food the dwarf insisted we take with us. I had no conception of how vast they were and no way of guessing how far we traveled. We may have been under Val Royeaux for all I know.
There was no way to measure time, for there was no sunlight. When we were too tired to go on, we found out of the way, easily defensible caverns and slept for a time. Did this happen twice a day or once every three days? I have no idea. We couldn't usually make a fire. Sometimes there were enough axe handles and darkspawn bows to burn, but most of the time we slept in the cold and dark, or sometimes in the heat, for rivers of lava flow in some places.

Branka—that was the name of the Paragon—was not the only dwarf lost in the Deep Roads. Before we had left Orzammar, a woman had asked us to look for her son, Ruck, who had been lost there five years earlier. I told her we would find news of him if we could, though it seemed unlikely. We did find him, however…"

"He was dead?" asked Sybille.

I shook my head. "Would that he were. No, he had…eaten of flesh tainted by the Darkspawn. I supposed he must have been starving. But it's a poison, it changes a man. He was mad, barely a dwarf any more. He was still able to remember his mother but begged us to tell her he was dead…there was enough left of him for that."

"The next time we rested, not far from where we found Ruck, I think I was about as discouraged as I ever became that year. We still had found no sign of Branka, though traveling in the Darkness for weeks. I feared that by the time we found her and managed to crown Harrowmont…if we did…Ferelden would already be overrun by the Darkspawn. And encountering Ruck had been…troubling." All the more so because it felt like a preview of what I had in store for me toward the end of my own life. I remember him saying that he saw the darkness in me, and shuddered, even now. I opened a leather pouch that I always kept at my belt. "I was sitting staring into the campfire—we had one on that occasion-when Alistair gave me…this."

"You still have it?"

"I had it gilded in Orzammar, to preserve it," I said laying the golden rose on the table.

Leliana gave me a sidelong glance. "That seems…unusually sentimental for you, Aedan. I remember thinking when you sold your family sword that you were not a man for such things."

"Well, we needed the coin then, and maybe I didn't want to be reminded of a life that I could never have. Whereas with this rose, I'd have something to remember him by if…well, we all passed within a bad stumble or a missed parry of death many times."

Leliana stared at the rose and her expression suddenly changed. "Alistair, how did you have a rose with you in the Deep Roads? Where did you get it?"

"I picked it in the Chantry garden in Lothering. I probably should have left it, but…"

Her eyes widened. "It is that rose. Aedan, this is the rose that bloomed when I had my dream, the one that convinced me that I had to follow you."

I had never made that connection before. "I remember thinking it strange how it retained its freshness and beauty for so long after being picked."

"It was no ordinary rose. May I?" she reached out to take the rose from the table to look at it more closely. "It must have been meant to be…how else could this bloom was entwined with all three of our fates?"

Four fates, I thought, but did not say. Morrigan might never have had her daughter had I not received the rose. Somehow I found it hard to think that had been part of the 'Maker's plan.'

Sybille broke in, "So that's when you and Alistair became lovers?"

I chuckled. "Not exactly. Despite his avowed desire to move on from the awkward phase to the steamy bits, I didn't even get a kiss."

"Well, I was so nervous. I don't think I would even have approached you then except you seemed so down. I wanted to do something to tell you that I appreciated you, that I believed in you, that it wasn't all for nothing, but the physical part was still so strange to me. I didn't know what men did together…Well, I suppose I did know, but I'd only heard of it through vulgar jokes. It didn't sound very…loving, or enjoyable for both partners. So I was still a bit afraid. I knew that it felt good to be near you and I wanted to touch you, but I didn't know if I really wanted you that way."

"So my chantry-raised boy retained his innocence a little longer—actually a lot longer-not by my choice I must add. There were times when I even thought of lying with Zevran…"

"Really? Would you really have done that? I know you were friendlier with him than me, maybe because you had more in common, but I didn't think you were that close."

"I was not, but we were not all raised in the Chantry, my dear. But you were worth waiting for. And I do think that we became…us when you gave me this. And so, Sybille, that's the story of how we became lovers."

Modifié par maxernst, 16 janvier 2011 - 06:56 .

[maxernst]

20. VAL ROYEAUX: A TRIVIAL TASK

The following day, I was informed by Sybille's doorman that the Lady Therese la Rousse, one of Sybille's ladies-in-waiting, had come to see me. It was made clear to me that it was to be a private meeting, so I received her in our guest room while Alistair sparred with Rogier in the courtyard. One of the servants left a flask of wine and a bowl of peaches for us, then left us alone.

Madame La Rousse was tall, slim woman in a crimson gown. After a brief introduction—it was clear she was not interested in wasting time—she asked me for the message I wished to send to Morrigan.

I had already written it. It was a vague and brief message, owing to my suspicion that its contents would not be kept secret, but I hoped there would be enough that Morrigan would respond:

Dear Morrigan,

I know that you told me not to seek me out when last we spoke, but I have learned something of great importance to you. I cannot write of it in this letter, but must speak to you in person. Something has begun happening that you are not aware of, and I suspect may soon be in danger from an unexpected source. I am in Val Royeaux now and am eager to see you as soon as possible.

Your Friend, Aedan

I passed the sealed letter to the Lady Therese. "How long will this take to reach her?"

"You should expect at least two days before a response, as she is some distance from the city." I nodded. "And you do understand that Her Majesty will require a service from you.?"

I sighed and nodded.

"The message will be dispatched to Morrigan on your good faith, but you shall not have her response until you have satisfactorily completed your task. However, she has confidence that you can succeed in this tonight, in fact."

"Tonight?" My brow furrowed. I could not think of any critical engagements this evening. I did not expect Enrique back from Coteaux du Roche today.

"This evening, shortly after sunset, we believe that a hooded woman will enter the home of the Nevarran Ambassador for a romantic tryst. She has taken a number of steps to conceal her identity. Her majesty requires that you give as detailed a description as you can and, if possible, report what name the Ambassador addresses her by."

"So will that require breaking into the house and waiting in a concealed location for her to take off her hood? It would seem more efficient to ambush her before she enters the house and pull back the hood. Unless she is very well guarded, I expect I could accomplish that and escape."

She shook her head. "No. It is Her Majesty's intention that the woman not know that her identity has been revealed or that the Ambassador's household security was compromised. Therefore, you must avoid being seen and leave no trace of your passing. If it must come to a choice between discovery and abandoning the task unfinished, abandon it. Some other task or another opportunity to complete this one will be given. Her Majesty is given to understand that you have exceptional skill in stealth and believes that you are capable of this. Must I inform her that you cannot perform as asked?"

"No, I—will attempt this. I cannot be certain of results without any knowledge of the security of the Ambassador's house, but I will try." Fortunately, the nobility had a habit of trusting more in guards than in locks. While I have some lockpicking skill, complex mechanical devices tend to defeat me; I relied mostly on Leliana for such things during the Blight. Guards, however, I was quite good at evading, especially human ones, and in Orlais there was little risk of encountering Mabari. "May I have assistance in this matter?" Leliana would be a useful ally, if she were willing.

She shook her head vigorously. "No. Nor may you inform any others of your mission. It must be you alone."
I sighed. "Very well."

"Here is the location of the house and a rough sketch of the courtyard and what we know of its interior. Please inform me of the success or failure of your mission tomorrow morning. Do this, and you may be sure that you will receive the Lady Morrigan's response to your message."

Our business concluded, I saw the Lady Therese to the palace gate. When I turned back toward the house, I saw Leliana standing on the terrace. She waved as I approached.

"Ah, so your message is on its way to our old friend and Celene has asked you to do something. I don't suppose you will tell me what she has asked you to do."

"I'm afraid I am not to divulge the details."

"I thought as much. Be…careful, Aedan. She is subtle and her intensions are almost always more ambitious than they appear."

"It appears only an attempt to gather a little court gossip," I said, though I knew that an ambassador's affairs were of interest for more reasons than mere gossip.

She looked at me closely. "Gossip is knowledge and knowledge is power in the right hands. Still, I wish you good luck, my friend."

I went back to my room to lay out the things I might need for the night's work. The felon's coat, a grappling hook, rope, a container of lard I had borrowed from the kitchen, and a few darts with tips coated in a concentrated sleep drug that Zevran had shown me how to make. A crack of thunder sounded from outside. I frowned—rain might make things more difficult—and decided I would need to take a towel.

Hearing Alistair's armor clanking toward the door, I placed these things in my pack and turned to greet him as he entered. He had just finished his exercises and I could smell the fresh sweat on his body. As always, I found the scent curiously arousing. "I thought you might need a little help out of your mail".

He chuckled and bent his head to kiss my lips. "And here I thought I was coming back to the room for a rest."

"You can have your nap afterward, my dear." I pulled him closer to me and shut the door behind him.

Later, as we were lying together, I mentioned that I would have to go out this evening to perform a service Celene had requested in return for sending my message to Morrigan.

"Can't I come with you?"

I shook my head. "I'm afraid it will require stealth, which is not your forte, my love." He frowned slightly. "Don't worry, it's just a spying mission, to gather some gossip to broker. I shouldn't be in any danger."

"Won't you need a lookout?"

"I'm afraid I have to go alone this time, my dear. I can't so easily avoid being followed with you around, and it's important to Celene that I obtain this information without discovery."

I could tell he wanted to ask what I would be doing. He hesitated, then started to open his mouth, but I stopped him from speaking with a long kiss.

Modifié par maxernst, 29 janvier 2011 - 05:48 .

[Maria13]

Loved the sweaty kiss...

[maxernst]

Glad you enjoyed my strategy for the chapter: I had an awkward chapter with several conversations in which I couldn't think of very much for the characters to say. Therefore, I decided to spice it up with gratuitious kissing and implied sexual activity!

Modifié par maxernst, 02 février 2011 - 01:49 .

[Maria13]

That's always good, love!

[maxernst]

21. MAISON DE NEVARRA; HOODED WOMEN



I went out shortly after dusk. The skies had cleared and a full moon shone in the western sky, casting long shadows across the rain-drenched streets. I stared up at it as I exited the gates of the Palais, thinking that it might be difficult to approach the Ambassador's home from the western side in such bright moonlight.



One advantage of all my aimless wandering over the past days was that I knew my way around the city quite well. I could travel almost all the way to the ambassador's house using deeply shadowed backstreets and alleys. Although the gates to Sybille's home were always watched, I was certain that no one would be able to determine where I had gone, only when I left, and when I returned.



The Ambassador's house backed onto a bluff on the river bank. The front gates faced the broad avenue that led to the Grand Market. I would be very exposed if I tried to enter the house from that side, so I made my way down to the river to view the approach from the east. There was a steep track down from the house to a small dock. I wondered if the Ambassador viewed it as a quick escape route, if things became dangerous in Val Royeaux. Relations between Nevarra and Orlais were always testy, and war could break out at any time. It looked like a perfect access route to the house.



It proved somewhat less perfect than I imagined. It was very dark, which was good for approaching unseen, but made for difficult footing on a steep, slippery track. I was fortunate that the bushes that grew on the hillside were strong enough to bear my weight. Several times on my way up the bluff, I was saved from an ignominious fall into the river by clinging to the shrubbery.



When I reached the top, I found myself outside a low wall encircling the house. The moonlight was completely blocked by the house from this direction. I clambered up the wall, then lay flat on top of it and surveyed the landscape. There was a small orchard between the wall and the house. As I waited and watched, I saw two guards who appeared to be walking around the perimeter of the house. Although they carried torches, the trees would offer plenty of concealment; but I would need to time my movements carefully.



As they finished their circuit of this side of the house, I dropped down to the ground and moved into the orchard to get a good view of the house. One advantage of summer was that I was sure not all the windows would be shuttered. After toweling the mud off my boots as much as possible, I studied the house, looking for telltale light indicating a shutter not completely closed and latched. I spotted two on the first floor and one on the second. The ones on the ground floor had so much light emerging from them that I was certain someone was in those rooms, so I set my sights on the upper floor. I waited, hidden in the trees, while the guards made another circuit of the orchard, then made my move. I could have climbed up the wall unaided, but decided a rope would be quicker. I threw the rope upward, securing a hold on the windowsill with a grappling hook and climbed up the wall.



As I expected, the shutters were almost fully closed, but not latched. I opened them cautiously and peered into the room. No one was in the small bedroom. The light I had seen was filtering in through the door, which was slightly ajar. I entered the room, pulled up my rope and closed the shutters behind me. I doubted that the guards would see the rope, but it was best to err on the side of caution.



I crept across the room and peeked through the open door. Beyond lay a gallery surrounding a great hall. I guessed that it had once been an open-air courtyard, but it now had a high ceiling with elaborately carved and painted woodwork. I relaxed thinking how the colonnade supporting the ceiling would make it easy to stay hidden and survey the central room. Better still, the gallery was carpeted; my footsteps would be silenced.



I heard voices and was startled to hear one that sounded like Leliana. I moved across the gallery and peered to the hall below. A man—the Nevarran Ambassador I presumed from his formal clothes—was speaking to the woman whose voice I had heard, and whose face was shadowed by a hood. After seeing her more clearly, despite the hood, I knew it could not be Leliana. The similarity of voice was a coincidence. This was a much older woman, leaning on a cane, and with tendrils of gray hair escaping from under the hood. She seemed to be leaving. Was I too late? There was little I could do if the information I had been given was wrong. I could not hope to make my way to the front gate without being seen quickly enough to follow her.



But just as I was despairing, a second hooded woman entered the great hall. She was greeted with a warm embraced by the ambassador and kissed the other woman on both cheeks in greeting. They were too far away for me to pick up what they were saying. I hoped the newcomer was the one I had been asked to identify. Curse Orlais and its plots and counterplots. How many secret visitors could one man have in the same night?



I waited to see what they would do. After the grey-haired lady hobbled out, leaning on her cane, the ambassador and the other woman ascended the staircase in the center of the room, reaching the gallery on the opposite side from me, a servant trailing behind them. I watched as they entered a door and shut it behind them. Much to my annoyance, she kept the hood up the entire time and I still had not caught a glimpse of her face. Worse, rather than being off about his business, the ambassador's manservant waited outside the door. How was I going to see the woman clearly enough to describe her? All I knew of her was that she was of average height and voluptuous build.



At first, I thought the servant would surely leave soon. I crept along the gallery toward him and waited. Fortunately, there was not much activity in the house at this time of night. Sometimes there were people in the great hall, but they were not looking up at the gallery. Two people came up the stairs and went into rooms adjoining the gallery to turn in for the night, but I had no difficulty avoiding being seen. After some time, I noticed that there was a small chamber pot by the door; the man could stay there all night, if required.



I decided I would have to take action. I waited until I could see no one else about, then crawled to the column nearest the servant and threw one of my darts, catching him in the back of the neck. He would feel no more than a needle ****** because the drug numbed pain as well as inducing sleep. After a few minutes, he slumped against the wall. I applied a small amount of healing poultice to close the tiny wound made by the dart, then maneuvered him into a nearby chair. I listened carefully at the door. They were awake and talking, but sounded sleepy. Perhaps they had already made love. I decided the woman was called Jehannette, though other names were mentioned in conversation. I listened closely but understood little of what was said. There was much talk of people I didn't know, and some of estates and titles. At last, their conversation stopped and no more light showed underneath the door. They must have put out the torches. I waited for a while to let them fall asleep, but not too long, as I did not want the sleeping servant to be discovered.



When sufficient time had passed, I applied some lard to the hinges of the door to limit any squeaking, and tried the knob, hoping it would not be locked. I was in luck. I opened the door and crept in, closing it softly behind me. Their window was completely shuttered and it was so dark that I could not even see where the bed was, even after letting my eyes adjust. I had to move with great care to avoid bumping into anything in the dark with enough force to make noise. The woman was no more than five feet away from me—I could hear both of them breathing—but I couldn't see her, much less describe her.



There was only one thing I could do. The window was visible by the tiny amount of light escaping in the crack between the shutters. I made my way over to it, smeared some lard on the hinges, unlatched the shutters and opened one of them. I was careful not to let the light fall directly onto the bed where it might disturb them. The moonlight filtering into the room gave me just enough illumination to see this Jehannette.



She lay curled up beside the ambassador, her heavy breasts exposed because she had pulled the bedclothes down. She wouldn't be so hot if they had left the shutters open, I thought with irritation. Her hair was long and light in color—blonde or light brown mixed with gray? She was probably in her late forties, a little older than Sybille, and her face was round, her nose prominent and sharp, though not unattractive. She had a mole on her left cheek.



My task completed, I closed the shutters and left the room. The ambassador's manservant still sat in the chair, fast asleep, his breathing steady. I made my way back to where I had entered the house—I supposed it must be a guest room that was not currently in use—and looked out into the orchard, watching for the guards making their rounds. After they had passed, I climbed out the window, dropped down to the ground and rolled, then clambered over the wall. The mission had been a complete success. The only little slip had been the manservant, but surely a servant with such a duty falling asleep would not arouse any suspicion. I made my way back to the Palais de Montfleurie confident of a job well done.



Sybille's guards seemed surprised to see me returning so late, but recognized me and let me in. Alistair was waiting for me in the entry hall, pacing. He broke into a relieved smile when I entered.



"Oh, Aedan, I'm so glad to see you. You were gone so long, I got worried…."



I chuckled and embraced him. "You shouldn't have stayed up for me." I chided him "How could you doubt that I would return, with such a beautiful man waiting here?"



"Was there…trouble?"



I shook my head. "Not that kind of trouble. It just took a while before I had a chance to see what I needed to see. But I should be able to get my response from Morrigan now."



"You think she'll agree to see you?"



I sighed. "I don't know. I hope so, but Morrigan is difficult and stubborn. But I've done all I can tonight. Let's go to bed."

[DreGregoire]

Very nicely written. Very detailed descriptions. Heh, break-ins hardly ever go as planned.

[maxernst]

DreGregoire wrote...

Very nicely written. Very detailed descriptions. Heh, break-ins hardly ever go as planned.

You know this from experience?

[Maria13]

If she does... We need to talk to her...

[DreGregoire]

*looks innocent* er... the correct answer is no. Right?

Modifié par DreGregoire, 02 février 2011 - 06:03 .

[DreGregoire]

DreGregoire wrote...

*looks innocent* er... the correct answer is no. Right?

Oh I mean I only know from my roleplaying experience. That's the better answer. *nods*

[maxernst]

22.    MEMORIES: SOMETHING WORSE THAN DEATH
 
“So did you find your paragon in the Deep Roads? Leli’s never really talked about that,” Sybille asked over breakfast the next morning.
 
“I can understand why she would rather not. The short answer is yes.”
 
She arched an eyebrow. “You don’t really think I’m going to let you off that easily?”
 
I took a deep breath. “Very well, if you must know. Shortly after Alistair gave me the rose, in a part of the Deep Roads had become the nest of a huge pack of giant spiders,  Oghren found a journal that Branka had written. The journal told us that she had found a clue to the location of the Anvil of the Void, an ancient artifact that the dwarves had used to forge an army of golems. She had gone to Bownammar, the ancient dwarven necropolis to seek it.
 
Bownammar lay far into the Deep Roads, beyond the defenses of the Legion of the Dead. The Legion are a sort of military order of the dwarves dedicated to fighting the Darkspawn, called “the Dead” because they are expected never to return to Orzammar. They actually hold funerals for them when they join. And so we followed Oghren’s lead even farther from the surface and weeks dragged on into months in the darkness. Though as I’ve said before, we had no real way to keep track of time.
 
We encountered the legion defending a bridge across a vast chasm. I inquired whether they had any knowledge of Branka without much hope. They did not, and their leader scoffed at me for embarking on such a fool’s errand. Beyond, they told me, there was nothing to be found but more Darkspawn.
 
I could not really disagree with his assessment, but having come so far, I was not going to turn back without trying to determine her fate, though my hopes of saving Ferelden had receded to a dream by then. We fought our way across the bridge and into Bownammar. The ancient fortress, filled with the tombs of dwarven heroes, was crawling with Darkspawn, even as the Legion had told us. But in some tunnels beyond the fortress, we made a discovery that I don’t think any other Wardens had ever made. Or at least returned alive to Weisshaupt, if they did.
 
The Wardens have known for some time that there are hideous creatures known as Brood Mothers that give birth to the Darkspawn. They are huge—dozens of times the size of a man—and have amorphous bodies with many breasts and a head that spits acid. They are rarely sighted, being hidden away in the tunnels of the Deep Roads, but they had been reported before. Some had even postulated some connection between the different types of Darkspawn and mortal races—Hurlocks and humans, Genlocks and dwarves. But what we learned was the process by which Brood Mothers are created. It’s not pleasant. Are you certain you want to hear this? 
 
It was described to us first by a voice whose speaker we could not see, ahead of us in the tunnels. I have never forgotten her words, though we did not understand what we were hearing at the time:
 
"First day, they come and catch everyone.
Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.
Third day, the men are all gnawed on again.
Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate.
Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn.
Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams.
Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew.
Eighth day, we hated as she is violated.
Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin.
Now she does feast, as she's become the beast."


We eventually caught up with the speaker, a dwarf named Hespith who had been Branka’s captain…and her lover. She was obviously very far gone with Darkspawn taint, even farther than Ruck, but she retained enough sense to make us understand that the poem described what had become of the remains of Branka’s house, what had happened to a dwarf named Laryn, and what was happening to her. Genlocks come from dwarven women who are tainted and forcefed until they became monsters. Beyond a certain point, they are completely one of the Darkspawn…Hespith said that Laryn had torn off her husband’s face and drunk his blood.
 
I am sorry, but I did warn you. At first, we thought that this had happened to Branka, but Hespith told us that Branka had allowed this to happen. To the women of her own house. But she did assure us that Branka was still alive, though I no longer was anxious to meet this so-called Paragon.
 
I don’t know what happened to Hespith. I would have slain her after talking to her had I had the chance—it was the only mercy I ould offer--but she ran off beyond the Brood Mother who had once been Laryn. We were not able to find her after slaying it. I hope that she found a way to make an end before becoming one of them.
 
I would have looked for her, except that beyond the Brood Mother, we found Branka. Or rather, Branka found us. And explained why she had allowed this…this atrocity. If there could be any explanation beyond madness.   She had almost found the Anvil, but it lay in a cavern complex that was filled with traps. Obsessed with getting her hands on it, rather than working out some way to dismantle the traps, or, Maker, even tunneling through the damn walls past them—she had three hundred dwarves with her, after all—she had used her people as fodder to activate the traps. When she began to run out of dwarves, and they had quite understandably started to rebel against her, she hit upon a plan to use the Darkspawn…but she needed many Darkspawn. And so she allowed them to make obscene horrors of her kin.
 
How did she intend to get the Darkspawn to do her bidding? By trapping them, sealing them the entry to the complex behind them—much as she did us. Of course, she was on a high ledge above us where we could not get to her, so—like the Darkspawn—we had no choice but to venture forward.
 
Perhaps most of the traps had already been sprung by the time we got there, for we encountered little more than Darkspawn. There was one room with vents that spewed a noxious gas and a few golems, and another with a huge machine that seemed to spawn spirits, but we soon found our way to the Anvil. And, much to our shock, to its maker, the paragon Caridin and a number of golems: the Anvil’s last defenders.
 
Caridin had forged the Anvil, and the dwarves’ golem army, at the time of the First Blight many centuries ago. He had disappeared shortly after and been presumed dead—but in fact, he had been transformed into a golem as punishment. For he had told his king he would make no more golems. Why not? Because golems are made at the cost of a life lost in excruciating pain, and a soul enslaved. Caridin begged us to help him destroy the Anvil, so that no more might be made. Apparently, he could not destroy it himself.
 
But by now Branka had made her way there, and come to claim her prize. Only over her dead body would I be allowed to deprive her of the prize for which she had given the lives and the—souls—of her clan. She had a rod for controlling golems that allowed her to deactivate Caridin and seize control of several of his golems. It was one of the most difficult fights I have ever been in. I think Wynne revived me from the brink of death with her magic twice. If I recall correctly, Leliana was the last one standing that day, isn’t that right my dear? Sometimes it pays to be firing from a distance.
 
It was partly that Branka was an astonishing fighter, better by far than her formidable husband, though he was of a warrior clan and she a smith. And she had lived so long in the Deep Roads that I think the lyrium had given her…strange abilities. I know dwarves are supposed to be nonmagical and immune to its effects but it seemed to me that at times there were three or four of her. I can’t explain it. 
 
Oghren? Yes, he fought on our side against his wife, though he had tried to persuade me to change my mind. I’m not sure I fully understand why he took our side. She hadleft him, but it was clear that he still had feelings for her, crazed though she was. Maybe he just saw that it was right. I still feel badly that he had to participate, though. I cannot feel badly for slaying her. I don’t think I have ever been as angry at anyone as I was at her, not Loghain, not Zathrian—oh, we’ll get to him, believe me—not even Howe. I agree with Hespith. She cannot be forgiven. Enough! I don’t want to talk about her any more.
 
I did as Caridin asked, though not without misgivings. The anvil was an evil thing—can you imagine being a slave to the whims of anyone who held a control rod for a thousand years?—but I could not help thinking that it might be our salvation against the Blight. If we had failed, I would have rued that decision and wondered…but I think most of us agreed that it was the right thing to do. Not Morrigan, of course.
 
I had hoped the long lost paragon would return to Orzammar with me when it was finished, but he was determined to make an end to his extended existence. But he did forge a crown for me that was enough that most of the Assembly accepted Harrowmont as King. Not Bhelen, though—he fought to seize the crown by force. And failed. And died.
 
And so I left Orzammar at last, with the agreement of the dwarves to aid Ferelden against the Blight. We had spent the whole winter in the darkness and when we emerged at last into the light, the sun and sky were almost as great a shock to me as to Oghren, who had never seen them before. Yes, he decided to join us. I suppose he had little left to keep in Orzammar now. He had lost his honor and status as a warrior in an accident on the Proving Grounds and now he had lost his wife.
 
We descended from the mountains and hurried to Redcliffe to learn what we could, and fearing the worst.. I was delighted to find that the Darkspawn had not overwhelmed Ferelden as rapidly as I had feared. Though many areas of the south were blighted, it seemed that the Archdemon had not yet appeared and the Darkspawn were roving the land in disorganized packs, not moving with dangerous purpose. There was still time.
 
Eamon’s condition remained unchanged, and Teagan was still unconvinced of his ability to act in his stead. I still had one last treaty to seek out—the Dalish Elves. However, I decided that finding a Dalish clan to honor it might take some time, as their camps migrate over time. We agreed to see if we could find the ashes. I still had my doubts…
 
But I have to admit that after Orzammar, I started to believe a little more that this was a war we could win. Part of it was my growing confidence in the abilities of our little team, but I think part of it was my beloved. His belief in me helped me believe in myself. Oh, my love, I had doubts, believe me, I had doubts. I still do…but it was in Redcliffe that I first tasted his lips. He actually initiated it, though I was amused when he asked if it had been too soon. I told him that we needed to try it a few more times to be sure. It would have been better had he not been wearing armor.,,”
 
“It would certainly have been less uncomfortable for me,” said Alistair, flushing slightly.
 
“I still was wary about going to Denerim, under the circumstances, though Teagan assured me that few people really believed Loghain’s lies about the Wardens. But after surviving the Deep Roads, my fear was—not gone, certainly—but less urgent. 
 
But I am afraid that the Quest for the Sacred Ashes will have to wait for another day, my friends. There are some things I need to do before we head over to Le Cheval Blanc to see Enrique.”

[maxernst]

23. LE CHEVAL BLANC: WARDEN DREAMS
 
After taking my leave of the others, I walked over to the Palais Royeaux. It lay on a different hill than Sybille’s palace and the Grand Cathedral, higher, further north along the river, and separated from the Holy Hill by a narrow valley that was a center of trade and mercantile activity. As I climbed the hill, I noticed a great many people on the flat land adjacent to the river to my right. I recalled that the Midsummer Festival began tomorrow and supposed that they were preparing the grounds for it. Although I had pictured it primarily as a tournament based on how Gilbert de Val Foret had described it at Sybille’s dinner, I had later learned that it was much more. It coincided with the most important merchant’s fair in Orlais and there were special chants for pilgrims during the fortnight as well.
 
I identified myself to the palace guards, and was escorted to a chamber where Madame La Rousse awaited. I passed on the information I had learned and she nodded, showing no sign of surprise. It seemed that she knew precisely who I was describing. She thanked me for the précised details in my portrayal and seemed satisfied that the sleeping servant outside the Ambassador’s door had not raised suspicions. I was assured that my message was on its way if it had not already been delivered, and I would be informed of the Lady Morrigan’s response to my letter as soon as it arrived.
 
Afterword, I met up with my friends at Le Cheval Blanc, which was even livelier than usual. Merchants and performers from all over Orlais were arriving for the Festival and the common room was crowded with people. Despite the commotion, Thierry still managed to find time to greet and seat our party with great efficiency and courtesy and it was not long before we were ushered down to the cellar for our meeting with Enrique.
 
 As we waited for him in the dank underground chamber, I leafed through the botanical treatise while Alistair laid out maps of the area around Val Royeaux on the simple table.  It was not long before he appeared. “Good evening, Commander, Alistair” he said in greeting.
 
“Good evening, Enrique. Was your trip to Coteaux du Roche fruitful?”
 
He shrugged. “The wardens there were generally happy to tell me of their dreams, though I do not know what you expect me to tell Yves when he asks why I was questioning them. He will learn of this soon enough, you know.”
 
“I expect you’ll tell him the truth. By then, I hope to have left Val Royeaux and the situtation will be resolved, one way or the other.”
 
“What if he finds out while you’re still here?”
 
“I’ll leave it to your discretion what lie you wish to tell. Maybe claim curiosity on your own, instructions from Weisshaupt that were strangely did not arrive at Coteaux du Roche due to an unreliable messenger. I’m sure you’ll think of something. But more important, tell me what you have learned.”
 
He sighed. “I had many dreams described to me, and took careful notes.” He handed me a scroll of vellum. “However, I am not sure how much use they will be to you.”
 
I took the scroll. “What impressions did you form of the girl’s character as she appears in the dreams.”
 
“She seems like a little girl, perhaps better behaved than most her age. No one has reported anything very remarkable about her, aside from her repeated appearances in their dreams. No one even mentioned her using magic though there are signs that she is being trained for it. The only thing,” he commented, his grey eyes narrowing slightly as he rubbed his straw-colored beard, “out of the ordinary is that several reported a very strong compulsion to protect her. Three wardens in particular—you’ll find the
descriptions in the scroll—describe having saved her from danger and feeling like, well, as though they had no choice…”
 
“Surely protecting a little girl is a natural instinct? I suppose I felt something of the sort when I dreamed of Ostagar and she hid behind me, but it didn’t strike me as unusual.” Alistair broke in.
 
“It wouldn’t be for you, my dear. Perhaps for others…”
 
“I’m only reporting. I’ll leave interpretation up to you.”
 
“Any darkspawn dreams, other than Alistair’s? How does she respond to them? Do they respond to her?”
 
“One. He said she seemed frightened by them, as you might expect.”
 
“So they don’t seem to view her as one of them? She doesn’t seem tainted?”
 
He snorted. “No one recalling sensing the taint one way or the other, but is that something you normally remember from your dreams? And Darkspawn in dreams are not real Darkspawn.”  
 
“You’re right. I’m just trying to get a feel for what she is. What about clues to where she might be?”
 
“Sketchy. It seems like she usually enters the Warden’s own dreams, and only the first contact dream seems to relate to her. And in most cases that dream was a year ago and hard to remember. I’ve put all the details I put down.”
 
I unraveled the scroll and scanned through it. “This one mentions oak trees. Did he say which variety of oak it was? According to this treatise, the oaks east of Val Royeaux near the coast have a different leaf shape…” I turned back to my treatise looking for the page in question. 
 
“Commander, they’re Wardens, not gardeners or lumbermen. He dreamed of trees! I’m surprised anyone remembered enough to distinguish oak from pine in a dream!”
 
“In Ferelden,” observed Alistair without expression, “Wardens are expected to have detailed knowledge of the forest. I was not allowed to undertake my Joining until I had demonstrated that I could identify thirty-seven types of trees that grow in Ferelden.”
 
Unused to my love’s sense of humor, he stared at him for a moment, while I chuckled. “You’re right, of course. I was just hoping someone would remember something helpful…”
 
“There was one thing. A warden who grew up just outside the Royal Forest north of Val Royeaux mentioned something that looked to him like a cornet de marecages in his first dream of the girl where she and her mother were crossing a meadow. That’s the local name for a sort of steep conical hill that rises out of the swamp, he said.”
 
“How many of them are there? Do you think we could find a map showing them all?”
 
“I’m not sure. Apparently, they were a fairly common feature of the area and I’m not sure anyone would have cared enough to map them. It’s a difficult area to travel—you’d need a boat light enough to carry with a very shallow draft—you could perhaps buy a flat-bottomed batteaux that they row up and down the river. I would guess a thorough search of every cornet would take weeks.”
 
I considered. “We do know that they must be fairly close by, if a messages can be passed back and forth in a few days…but it sounds as though I must hope that Morrigan responds to my letter. This sounds difficult.”
 
“Commander, I must ask: what do you intend to do if you manage to find her?” I felt Alistair’s on me, as well.
 
“I—I’m not sure. I want to know what she is, whether she’s really free of the taint, if Morrigan can guarantee that she will stay safe from it. What Morrigan’s plans are. I can only assume she is not aware the girl’s dreams. I don’t imagine the girl understands what she’s doing. Perhaps if she did, she could stop…troubling us.”
 
“Or perhaps this Morrigan could use her to control us.” 
 
“Do you really think that’s possible?” asked Alistair.
 
“Who can say? The Chantry says the old gods whispered to men in their dreams, just as the Archdemon sings to the Darkspawn. And if she’s not tainted, why does she speak to Wardens?”
 
“The Joining has the Archdemon’s blood mixed with that of the Darkspawn…perhaps that is the link? I don’t know. Morrigan may understand though, and be able to explain.”
 
“Able to explain, maybe. But willing to explain?” 
 
I could not really argue with Alistair on that point—she had never been keen on explaining herself. “If she understood that the Wardens see her as a danger, she might be persuaded to give us some assurances.”  


“Perhaps.”
 
“Thank you for your help, Enrique,” I said as I rolled up the scroll. “If I have questions about any of this, I shall contact you further. I apologize again for—forcing you to do this.”
 
“I only hope that you know what you’re doing, Commander”
 
I sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I am fumbling in the dark and hoping not to do harm. I know the risks are high.” I stood up, getting ready to return to the common room. “Well, goodbye. Perhaps I will see you again before I leave Val Royeaux. If not, may the Maker watch over you, brother.”
 
 

[maxernst]

24. MEMORIES: A MASSACRE AT HAVEN
 
Alistair and I returned to the common room during a bit of a lull in the action. Various singers and dancers had been performing all evening, but it seemed that most of them had decided to break for their evening meal and to share flasks of wine with friends. As we sat down at Sybille’s table, she turned to me and said, “We were just talking about the Sacred Ashes. I heard that the chantry sent an expedition a few years back to Haven and they were not there…but Leli swears you found them.”
 
“So we did.”
 
“But how—and where could they have gone?”
 
“Well, I can tell you how we found them, but as to where they are now,” I threw up my hands.
 
“As I said the other night, Isolde told us that Brother Genitivi had found clues as to Andraste’s final resting place, so we went to Denerim to seek him out. But while we were on our way there, the past of a certain vivacious redhead came back to haunt her.
 
We were ambushed by a small band of mercenaries—rather professional ones, it seemed. At first, I assumed that they had been after Alistair and me, but when I interrogated one of the survivors, it was Leliana they had sought. It seemed that they were unaware that there was a bounty on our heads. That was when she finally told me how she wound up in a Chantry in Lothering…and about Marjolaine, who it seemed resided in Denerim now. I am sure you know the story, so I shall not repeat it.
 
But that gave us one more…errand to run in Denerim. In fact, there were a number of things to do when we got there. At first, I thought we were walking into grave danger, for there were posters with crude likenesses of us all over Denerim. But it seemed that many had not swallowed Loghain’s lies. We had no difficulty buying from the shops and a number of people sought our assistance. Since we could use a little coin to buy better runes for our weapons from the Wonders of Thedas and to feed our seemingly endless need for healing herbs, I did assist a few of them. Besides, I thought there might be some advantage in demonstrating the Warden’s good will.
 
It was an interesting mix of people who sought our aid, ranging from a sergeant of the guard to various underworld elements. One thing that they all seemed to have in common was a distaste for Rendan Howe, who had—to my shock—become Arl of Denerim and Loghain’s right-hand man. He styled himself Teyrn of Highever as well, to my fury, for he had circulated the lie that my father had been a traitor! Loghain had allowed him to claim the title of the traitorous Couslands.
 
Oh, Loghain knew the truth all right. He had had it from my own lips at Ostagar. I have often thought that he encouraged Howe’s treachery, as part of his scheme to eliminate powerful political opponents, though I have no proof. In any event, after the disaster at Ostagar, Howe had one of the larger armies remaining in Ferelden. And he had been richly rewarded for his loyalty to Loghain.
 
And so I ran a few errands while we were in Denerim. I did not want to waste too much time, but killing bandits and intimidating troublesome mercenaries for the guard did not take us long. And it was fascinating how our interests aligned with those of certain groups. The Antivan Crows, of all people, wanted a man dead who had been setting a trap for Grey Warden supporters. He ended up catching somewhat more than he bargained for in his net. Yet the Crows also made another attempt to kill us—an old “friend” of Zevran even tried to convince him to return to them, but fortunately he remained at my side. From what I understand, the Crows treatment of their assassins does not inspire much loyalty. But as I say, we were able to handle these challenges by this point, though I was tired of the constant slaughter wherever we seemed to go. I’d have thought that our reputation might have instilled some fear in people by this time. Perhaps Sergeant Kylon was right, and the people who attacked us were simply idiots. 
 
Yes, we paid Marjolaine as a visit and drove her away. I thought we probably should have killed her, as I feared she would never leave Leliana alone. But I felt it was Leliana’s call to make and she said nothing and so…away she went. I suppose since you’re still here, Leli, it was not too costly a mistake.”
 
“Marjolaine will make no more trouble for me,” she stated without elaborating. 
 
“We also went to the home of Alistair’s half-sister in Denerim. He had never met her, or even wrote to her, but…well, he had always longed for a family. I’m afraid it did not go well…”
 
“I was a fool to think that I would mean anything to her. But…it taught me something, that I could make a family for myself, that blood was not…what really made a family a family.” Yet we are bound by blood, too, my love.
 
“I would have thought a poor woman might see advantage in being half-sibling to a potential king. But maybe she feared Loghain’s men. I suppose we should be thankful she made no attempt to turn us in. In any event, it was not the joyous family reunion of which Alistair dreamed. 
 
But of course, our primary reason for coming to Denerim was to visit Brother Genitivi. He was not at home, but his assistant told me he had gone to the Spoiled Princess—the Inn on Lake Calenhad—to search for clues some time ago. Something sounded…wrong about this assistant however and when I questioned him more carefully, the fool attacked us. Afterward, I found the body of another man, presumably Genitivi’s real assistant, along with some of his notes and an old map showing a village in the mountains west of Lake Calenhad that none of us had never heard of. Haven.
 
So there we were traipsing all the way across the country—practically all the way back to Orzammar again—to seek out an obscure village. As soon as we arrived it was obvious that Haven was…different. A certain amount of fear and suspicion of strangers might be expected in an isolated community, but this went far beyond that. The Dalish seemed almost welcoming by comparison. The villagers made it clear that they received very few visitors and wanted none. If we needed supplies, they could be bought at the store, but we were to leave immediately thereafter.
 
Well, of course, I wasn’t going to make this entire journey for nothing. Although I feared for Brother Genitivi’s fate, the only course of action was to try and retrace his footsteps. As a religious man in search of a holy artifact, I had no doubt that he would have gone immediately to the village Chantry. As did we.
 
A service was in session when we entered. Though I had not intended to interrupt, the Revered Father—yes, they were led in the chant by men—insisted on ending the service immediately. And when I asked after Brother Genitivi, he and his followers attacked. We were forced to foul the chantry with their blood.
 
Afterward, we found Brother Genitivi tied up and hurt in a library hidden behind a secret door in the Chantry. He was able to explain some of what had happened. He speculated that some of the unusual practices of the fanatical “Disciples of Andraste” as they called themselves, such as having Revered Fathers, might stem from having been founded before the Chantry was established. But there was more: they spoke of Andraste as if she were alive. The Knights that Isolde had sent in search of him had been murdered and tortured
 
Why? It’s not that hard to understand, I think. Haven had been isolated from the outside world for a long time. And when they sent out scouts, they must have soon learned that their eccentric beliefs would not be tolerated by the Chantry. So they sought to keep their existence concealed.
 
Yes, Leli, no doubt the Chantry would merely have sent missionaries and attempted to convert them peacefully, at first. But if they had resisted—and you know that they would have—do you truly doubt that the Templars would have crushed them? What do you suppose happened to those who survived our visit?
 
Brother Genitivi believed that the Ashes were kept in a temple on the mountain that overlooked Haven, and we had the key to open it from the Revered Father we had killed. He guided us up the mountainside to the huge, ancient Cathedral. It was a hard climb up the mountain and bitterly cold. Though it was well into spring by then, there was still snow and ice up there. 
 
It was an astonishing place. I had never imagined encountering a Chantry as vast and imposing as the Grand Cathedral in such a small, isolated community. Even Morrigan was impressed. We left Brother Genitivi, who was exhausted from the climb, at the entrance and began exploring.
 
It was filled with the Disciples of Andraste. We slew them, mage and warrior, man and woman as we made our way through the temple in search of the Ashes. No doubt we left many children orphaned as we cut down many of the adults of Haven. We passed through the huge temple complex, and then beyond into a series of caves that had been carved into the mountainside, still without having found the ashes. Finally, we met the madman, Kolgrim, who was their Grand Cleric. We attempted a parley, but he grew enraged when I denied that “the risen Andraste” could be real. He died like his followers.
 
Yes, I do pity them. They attacked us, true, but they were trying to protect their beliefs. They were madness, but they knew nothing else. We learned that it had been Kolgrim’s grandfather who had brought the change in their faith, so those living in Haven by then would have grown up believing that a dragon on the mountaintop was, in fact, the Bride of the Maker risen again. At its core, the “Disciples of Andraste”, had been a Dragon Cult, an ironic perversion of Andraste’s message. Kolgirm had barred the way to the mountain top where Andraste’s shrine was located, and where the dragon had its lair. But the dragon slept, and so we passed by freely.
 
No, I don’t regret leaving the dragon unharmed. I was not about to risk the deaths of the only Grey Wardens in Ferelden by fighting such a foe.
 
Yes, we did defeat a dragon in the ruins in the Brecilian forest. But that was later, and a much smaller dragon. I was not keen to test the power of the Maker’s plan to keep me safe.
 
Before entering the Shrine, we met a ghostly figure who called himself only the Guardian. I do not know who or what he was, but it seemed he had controlled the approach of pilgrim’s to the Shrine since it was founded centuries before. He asked each of us a question about our past decisions…mostly dealing with whether we regretted difficult choices we had made. I will respect the privacy of my companions and not repeat what was said. It seemed it was his way of testing us.
 
No, my dear, you’re right he did not question Morrigan, or rather she declined to be tested. I am not sure why he let her pass without examination, unlike the rest of us. Or maybe he could read the answers in her mind—it seemed that he knew everything about us—and chose not to share her testing with the rest of us.
 
There were more tests within, but they were not so difficult. We had to answer riddles based on Andraste’s life, faced shades of ourselves in battle, and one final puzzle that relied on teamwork for success. It seems that those who set it up did not want to allow pilgrims to go alone to the ashes.
 
And finally, there was the urn before us. Although I am not a particularly pious man, I must admit that I fell to my knees. There was great power there, and I could not help but feel the presence of the Maker, though Oghren speculated that the huge quantities of lyrium in the mountain enabled the Guardian, and perhaps the Ashes themselves. I took the pinch that the Guardian allowed and we made our way back toward Redcliffe.
 
So, yes, the Ashes were there, then. Later, Brother Genitivi organized an expedition to Haven, I heard, but they feared to face the dragon. A few years later, there was another expedition, and just as you said, the Urn were gone.
 
Leli, I don’t think the Ashes were ever meant to be easily found. They were hidden away on a remote mountaintop for a reason. Had they been made accessible, how long would it have been before they were exhausted?
 
I think the Guardian took them somewhere else. Maybe somewhere away from the dragon, but maybe just somewhere hidden. You know, if there is one part of that whole year that makes me think you could be right about our success being somehow part of a greater plan, it was the Urn. Perhaps it was not an accident that its location was rediscovered at a time when its power was required. I like to think the Guardian has taken it somewhere safe, and that it will be found again, in a time of great need. I don’t think the ability to cheat death was ever intended to be routinely available.
 
Yes, I’m sure Brother Genititivi was deeply disappointed to spend his lifetime searching for it, and never see it himself but it can’t be helped.” I did not have the heart to tell Leliana that he had killed himself when the Urn had vanished.

[maxernst]

25. PALAIS DE MONTFLEURIE: A RESTLESS NIGHT
 
I was back in the endless dark tunnels of the Deep Roads. I was alone and could sense the Darkspawn all around me. I followed the red glow of a river of molten rock into a large cavern where I saw my daughter. But Genlocks were storming into the cave from another passage. She went pale with fear and tried to hide behind a boulder. Her eyes were wide in terror, and though she had Morrigan’s dark coloring, they reminded me of Fergus’ daugher, Oriana. Save me, they seemed to implore.
 
I was a Grey Warden and my purpose was to fight the Darkspawn. I drew my daggers and tried to cut off the Genlocks before they could reach the girl. Whirling, feinting, slashing and thrusting, I danced into the mob, splattering black blood all around me. But there were too many. As many as I could cut down, more poured into the cave behind them. The girl shrank against the cavern wall, but they would surely reach her soon. I felt a desperate need to do—something—to keep them away from her. But as hard as I fought, heedless of my own safety, bleeding from several wounds, I was only one man.
 
Then, Alistair appeared from nowhere, and recognizing our peril, he let out a great cry that startled the Darkspawn. Seeing they were undecided whether to focus on me, this new threat, or pursue the girl, I went back on the offensive. My love and I fought our way toward each other, slicing through the Genlocks that lay between us until they were gone.
 
When it was finished, I panted with exhaustion while he went to my daughter, calming her and drying her tears. She smiled and relaxed, realizing that she was safe, among friends. Alistair was right—it was a beautiful Cousland smile, like my own, like my father’s. I reached out to embrace Alistair and he pulled me close.
 
But then his skin took on a grayish tone and he grew shorter and broader even as I held him. I found myself embracing Ruck. I recoiled and watched in horror as he seemed to grow larger and larger. Pendulous breasts and huge tentacles appeared and I was facing the Brood Mother again. The girl was off and running, barely avoiding the grasp of its tentacles.
 
I woke up, panting, freed myself from the bedclothes and staggered from the bed. Alistair stirred. “Mmm…Aedan? Are you alright?”
 
Still breathing hard, I replied, “Yes, just…a dream. I think I’m to get up and walk around a bit.”
 
“You don’t want to come back to bed?” He held out his arms. 
 
“Not just yet. Go back to sleep, my love.” I lit a candle, put on a nightobe and went into the hallway. The image of him changing into Ruck had disturbed me, made me feel the ever-growing corruption in our blood more keenly. I could not get away from my own taint, but I could at least distance myself from his for a while.
 
I had never been able to emulate the equanimity with which Alistair accepted the death sentence that had been laid upon us both at the Joining. Had it just seemed too far away a prospect for him to worry about? He may have thought he would die fighting the Blight with Duncan. Maybe anything was worth escaping from the Templars? But even now, he never seemed bothered by the darkness within him, as I was.
 
I walked down the hallway, thinking to go to Sybille’s sitting room on the other side of the entrance hall. I made no sound as I walked, as much through habit as from a desire not to awaken the servants who slept in this wing of the Palace. 
 
It seemed I was not the only one awake at this hour. I heard voices from beyond the handsome carved oak doors at the end of the hall. It sounded like Sybille and Leliana were in the entry hall. Why would they be up now? Could they have had a visitor? This late?
 
I hesitated before the doors, unsure whether I should intrude on their conversation.
 
“You are sure it was not an accident?” asked Sybille.
 
“She could not have made such a mistake. But I don’t know why. I saw her just last night. I did not speak with her long, but if something had been so wrong, surely she would have said—something—“
 
“You don’t think it had anything to do with…could she have been exposed?”
 
“There was no sign of that, but…we must be cautious. I think we should hold off on the Mureille deal until we’re sure…I will talk to Thierry, see if anyone in either household knows more.”
 
I decided to leave them to their deliberations, as I knew nothing of their concerns. I moved away from the doors and sat down in a chair at the far end of the hallway. Still unsettled from the dream, I struggled to relax and collect myself. More than I ever, I felt that I needed to see Morrigan, see the girl for myself. She seemed so..vulnerable, a beautiful sweet child. If she were some sort of monster, there was nothing in the dreams that revealed it…unless she controls the nature of the dreams themselves? But no. They were unpleasant, but they seemed nightmares of the sort I might have without outside interference. I had been recounting the stories of Ruck and the Brood Mother, after all.
 
After a period of contemplation in the half-light of the silent house, I felt I was relaxed enough to return to bed. I was quiet, taking pains not to awaken Alistair but it proved pointless. He was lying awake, a candle lit by the bedside when I entered our room.
 
“You should have gone back to sleep, my dear.”
 
“I was concerned about you. Usually you want to be held after one of those dreams.”
 
Banishing the image of Ruck from my mind, I climbed into bed beside him, clasped my arms around his broad back. “I know. It was just…” with a swallow, I talked about the vision. 
 
He said nothing for a little while. “Aedan, don’t you think…wouldn’t it be better to just go to to Weisshaupt. If Morrigan doesn’t want to see us, surely she won’t help you understand…and there are mages and old records at Weisshaupt. If they knew what we were dealing with, maybe--”
 
“I can’t believe that Morrigan knows about the dreams. If she did, surely, she would try to stop them or go somewhere away from the Wardens if they can’t be stopped. She wants to keep her daughter secret. And I just can’t—go to Weisshaupt without knowing. I fear…”
 
“We don’t know that they will want to kill her. Maybe you could persuade them to let her be, at least for now…”
 
“But that’s just the point. I don’t know anything that I could use to sway them. And if I can’t, it might not just be the girl and perhaps one warden who would fall. Morrigan is powerful and she would fight to preserve her.”
 
“You think Morrigan would give her life to protect the child?”
 
“Morrigan is not as selfish and unfeeling as she likes to think and she is a mother, now. Maybe she would flee to protect herself in the end, if the odds were overwhelming, but remember she fought the last wave of zombies practically alone at Redcliffe. She has great pride and courage. I think if…if the Wardens tried to take her, there could be a lot of bloodshed. And I don’t want to be responsible for that.”
 
He sighed. “I see your mind is made up. You know that it’s hard for me to trust Morrigan but…I must trust you. But if Morrigan refuses to see us…”
 
“Then I’ll have to find some way to find her. Either through the Empress or some other way.”

[Maria13]

Loved the dream sequence, Ruck as a symbol of the ultimate degeneration brought on by the taint. Can't help thinking that you haven't quite unpeeled all of Alistair's layers, surely something does trouble him about that, and if if doesn't what does trouble him? What gets to him emotionally?

Alistair is good at putting  a brave face on things but I like to remember what he says in the Fade, he doesn't want to spend his life fighting only to end up dead in a ditch full of darkspawn corpses...

Modifié par Maria13, 26 février 2011 - 04:31 .

[maxernst]

Maria13 wrote...

Loved the dream sequence, Ruck as a symbol of the ultimate degeneration brought on by the taint. Can't help thinking that you haven't quite unpeeled all of Alistair's layers, surely something does trouble him about that, and if if doesn't what does trouble him? What gets to him emotionally?

Alistair is good at putting  a brave face on things but I like to remember what he says in the Fade, he doesn't want to spend his life fighting only to end up dead in a ditch full of darkspawn corpses...

Hmm...you may have a point, though I always interpreted that as Alistair's fear of being alone and forgotten more than a fear of death or the taint.  In any event, this is Aedan's perception of Alistair; it doesn't need to be true.

[maxernst]

26.    MEMORIES: THE DARK FOREST
 
 The next day was the beginning of the Midsummer Festival and Sybille’s household had planned a picnic by the merchant fairgrounds for our mid-day meal. The picnic was more elaborate than I had visualized, but having seen the way that the nobility behaved in Orlais, I should have expected nothing less. Leliana had insisted that Alistair and I dress in our fine silk clothes again. Sybille’s guards found a choice spot in the shade of an enormous oak and pushed aside the crowds to make a place for us. A large cloth sheet was spread out upon the ground, and polished silver plates and goblets were laid upon it. Freshly baked bread, and a sort of cold tomato soup—a specialty from Rivain I was told—were served as we waited for the roast suckling pig. Sybille’s cook must have been out here preparing since before dawn.
 
Despite the festive occasion, the women looked tired and troubled. Recalling their discussion of the previous evening, I asked Leliana if something was wrong.
 
“An old friend of Sybille’s passed away unexpectedly last night. We will be going away for two days tomorrow to attend the funeral at her son’s estate,” she replied.
 
“But please make yourselves at home at the Palais while we are away,” put in Sybille. You should not have any trouble with the servants.”
 
As he spread a soft, creamy cheese on the bread, Rogier commented “Aunt :Leli says she got her fighting boots and gloves from the Dalish Elves.”
 
“And so she did,” I said with a smile.
 
“But I thought the Dalish hated us.”
 
“Well, they certainly resent humans—and if you’ve had some history, you’ll know why.” He nodded. “But the Blight is a threat to all peoples, so the Grey Wardens are welcome among even the Dalish, who otherwise shun outsiders.”
 
“And they actually fought alongside you in Ferelden?”
 
I nodded. “But like many other things that year, it did not come easily. We went there after bringing the pinches of ash to Redcliffe to heal the Arl. I must admit that even after everything I had seen at the Shrine, I was still not sure it would work, but Eamon awakened almost immediately. Much had transpired in the months he had lain in bed and needed to be explained to him.
 
When the situation was made clear, he asserted that we must call a Landsmeet to bring all the nobles of Ferelden together to choose a new king and force Loghain to step down. We could not allow the civil war to continue, but Eamon was convinced that we needed someone with a strong claim on the throne—and that meant Alistair.”
 
“Alistair?” asked the boy in surprise.
 
“I was the old king’s half-brother, though born outside of wedlock to a serving girl, and kept secret. But Arl Eamon thought he could get the nobles to rally in my name. I thought—hoped—that he would make a play for the throne himself. He certainly understood far more about ruling a kingdom than I did, but…”
 
 “Why didn’t you want to be king?” asked Rogier. “I think it would be great to be a king.”
 
Alistair shook his head. “When you’re older, you’ll see that being a King—or your Empress—is not easy. There is a lot of responsibility, a lot of pressure, making decisions that affect millions of people.”
 
“But did you not have great responsibility when you fought the Blight?” inquired Sybille.
 
“Well, yes, but I stuck to fighting and left the decision-making to Aedan. I’m good at fighting.”
 
“I still think you could have made a fine king, but…well, to get back to the story: we agreed to Eamon’s plan, and while he organized the Landsmeet, we had other business to attend to. I had managed to secure the aid of the Circle of Mage and the Dwarves, but I still had one ancient treaty to call upon: that of the Dalish Elves.
 
We journeyed into the Brecilian Woods in the east of Ferelden to seek them out. It was not long before we found their camp. They were suspicious and distrustful at first, as is their wont, but they brought me to their Keeper, Zathrian. He was aware of the old treaty, but—surprise, surprise—he said they could not fulfill their obligations. Once again, I had to solve all their problems before they would help me with mine.
 
Well, yes, I suppose it does sound bitter, but after having had to crown a king for the dwarves, clear a tower of abominations for the Templars, and find a legend to heal an Arl, I was getting tired of running errands while the Blight advanced over Ferelden. The problem the elves faced was that they had been attacked by werewolves, and a number of their hunters had been bitten and were succumbing to the werewolf’s disease. If they could not somehow be cured, they would either die or be transformed into beasts themselves. Zathrian believed that if I could bring him the heart of Witherfang, the great white wolf, that perhaps he could find a cure for the curse.
 
Easier said than done, of course, and from the start, there were some things that bothered me about Zathrian’s story. For one, though he insisted the werewolves were mindless beasts, I spoke to the hunters who had fought them and they said they were sure an ambush had been carefully laid. They sensed intelligence and purpose, not mere animal cunning, behind their actions.”
 
“For all your complaining about doing tasks for everyone, I thought it was really sweet of you to bring those two young Dalish together…what were their names?”
 
I chuckled. “Well, perhaps it was because I was in the throes of young love myself at the time…”
 
“Remember that book he gave you—the Tale of Iloren? It’s a beautiful story. I set it to song a few years ago. I’ll sing it for you tonight if you like.”
 
“Why not now?—ah, I see you did not bring your lute. Still, I would like to hear it.” I returned to my story. “So off we went into the forest seeking a great wolf. It was not long before we learned that Zathrian was wrong—the wolves were not mindless. One of them spoke to us…she had been an elf of the clan who had been—transformed. She begged for death, which…we provided. But we learned from her that the wolves had ‘overcome the curse’, as she put it. 
 
The forest was a strange place. The story teller had said that perhaps because there had been so many dead there during an ancient battle, the veil that separates our world from the Fade had torn and the forest was infested with spirits. We did face other wolves that seemed more like normal animals, along with vicious bears, a few darkspawn--Ferelden was crawling with them everywhere by that itme it seemed--and even a number of trees that beat at us with their branches and tried to entangle us in their roots. No, I’m quite sure we were not imagining it.  
 
But it was not long before I faced a wolf who called himself Swiftrunner. He clearly hated the Dalish but would tell me little, other than to leave. When I threatened him, telling him I needed to get to Witherfang, he fled, and said the forest would protect them from us. And it seemed for a time that it would…when we went into the densest, darkest part of the forest, we kept getting lost in a strange mist and could not find our way.
 
We went back to the Dalish camp for advice. Zathrian refused to believe me when I said that the werewolves had spoken to me, but he did have a helpful piece of advice—there was a tree he called the Grand Oak that might be able to help. It was a tree-spirit, similar in kind to the ones that had attacked us but a stronger spirit and one that was not filled with murderous rage. We found the tree and in return for getting its acorn back from a mad hermit, it agreed to give us a branch that would allow us to pass to the ruins in the heart of the forest where the werewolves had their lair. It took bit of wrangling with the lunatic,--I was tempted to slay him in frustration, before Wynned warned me that he was a powerful mage--but I eventually managed to swap something we had found in the forest for the acorn.
 
With the oak’s branch in hand, we made our way to the ancient elven ruins in the heart of the forest. The ruins were haunted by ghosts, infested with giant spiders and even—as you mentioned the other day—with a dragon, although a small one. Still, we fought our way down and found our way to the werewolf’s lair.
 
Once there, Swiftrunner asked us if we would parley, saying that ‘The Lady’ who led the werewolves wished to speak to me. I was hesitant, fearing an ambush, but I already mistrusted Zathrian, so I decided to see what she had to say.
 
The Lady proved to be a beautiful spirit, not a wolf at all. She told us that she was the Spirit of the Forest and that the werewolves had once been mindless, vicious animals, but that she had helped them find their humanity. For they had once been human, or rather their ancestors had. Hundreds of years before, a human tribe and the Dalish clan still led by Zathrian had lived in this forest and their had been…tension between them. Zathrian’s daughter had been raped by the humans, his son tortured and killed. In revenge, he had used the spirit of the forest itself to forge a terrible curse—the Great Wolf Witherfang had killed or infected the human tribe and they had become savage beasts. The werewolves today were their descendants or the descendants of other people unfortunate enough to have been attacked by the werewolves and cursed.
 
The Lady—who, as you may have guessed was also Witherfang—sought to end the curse. The attack on the Dalish had been an attempt to force Zathrian to deal with them.
 
I was furious. Zathrian had put us to a task, through grave danger, when he could have ended the curse himself. Storming back toward the Dalish camp, we encountered Zathrian before we even left the ruins. He did not want to talk, asking only if I had Witherfang’s heart, but I told him he would speak to the Lady, even if I had to drag him there.
 
Even faced with his own creations speaking to him, Zathrian refused to aid them. He wanted to end the curse only for his people; he still held the werewolves responsible for crimes committed by their ancestors long ago. We were actually forced to fight him—and his magic was formidable indeed—before he gave up and undertook the ritual that would end the curse, and end both his life, and that of the Lady. We returned to the Dalish camp where the infected elven hunters were recovering, and they promised to aid us against the blight. We had gathered the armies we could and it was time to return to Redcliffe and see if Eamon was ready for the Landsmeet.

 If there’s one thing I learned from the year we spent fighting the Blight, it was that those who are the most respected, most admired people in their society, and have the best of intentions can commit monstrous crimes. Loghain, the hero of the River Dane thought he was protecting Ferelden against another invasion and nearly destroyed it. Zathrian, the Keeper of his clan, sought to protect them from a threatening human tribe and created a great evil that nearly swallowed his own clan in the end. Branka, a dwarven paragon hoped to save her race from the Darkspawn with the Anvil wiped out her own clan. Even Uldred was a respected senior enchanter who longed to give the mages freedom from the chantry…and that put him on the path to abomination and the Circle’s ruin. Evil can come from the most unexpected sources: great people with good aims who are misled or too sure of themselves.” I had learned that lesson, surely. I was not falling, would never fall, into the trap that they had…would I?

Modifié par maxernst, 06 mars 2011 - 07:33 .

[maxernst]

27. VAL ROYEAUX: A DISAPPOINTING RESPONSE
 
After the picnic, the five of us ambled through the crowd for some time. Later in the day there was to be a theatrical performance—Leliana knew some of the actors-- but we had some time to enjoy the street performers and browse the wares of the merchants who had come from all over Thedas for the Festival Fair.
 
While Alistair and Rogier watched a pair of men juggling daggers between them at alarmingly high speeds, the women studied the model shoes of a cobbler, who explained that he could make the shoes to fit with dyes of almost any color they could wish. Seeing an Antivan stall with a variety of fine leather goods and small arms a short distance away, I excused myself and made my way over there.
 
Recalling that rapier and main-gauche was a popular weapon combination in Antiva, I browsed the weapons on his rack, but saw nothing with which I could replace my daggers.
 
“May I help you find something? You look like a man who knows what he wants.”
 
“Indeed. I was hoping to find a rapier and a main-gauche but—and I am sorry if I offend—do not see anything that quite meets the standards I seek.”
 
He looked disappointed. “This red steel rapier is finely crafted,” he said.
 
It was not a bad piece, but I shook my head.  “They would be used in place of these, you see.” With a flick of my wrists, my dragonbone daggers were drawn from the sheaths in my sleeves. 
 
His eyes grew wide as he studied the runes that Sandal had engraved in them. “I see. Those would be…difficult to match. I know a smith who might be up to such a task, but dragonbone has no equal, and it is not an easy to material to find.”
 
I sighed. “I quite understand. I haven’t slain a dragon myself in a few years…” He chuckled, assuming that I was joking. .”If I happen to kill another, perhaps I’ll seek you out again.”
 
“Is there nothing else I can offer? I have…other things available that I do not display.”
 
I was always on the lookout for new poisons and Antivans commonly dealt in such. “Say…do you happen to have anything interesting for someone looking for a little extra edge in a combat? Assume that I have access to all the more conventional types,” I leaned forward and spoke under my breath, “mage bane, soldier’s bane, crow poison, demonic poison…”
 
The short man glanced about and replied, “I just might have something for you. No doubt a man of your…wide experience has noted that deathroot-based poisons have lost some of their efficacy in recent years, as well-prepared practitioners have cultivated a resistance to them?” I had not, in fact, noticed this, but was prepared to believe that it might be true, given the ubiquity of the herb. “A friend of mine recently found a substitute with similar properties, based on the belle-du-jour?”
 
I blinked. “Those flowers?” If my botanical studies had been no help in finding Morrigan, at least they enabled me to recognize the blossom he was talking about..”Are they even poisonous?”
 
“Only the seeds, and they have to be concentrated and prepared just so. But I have detailed instructions I can sell you for a very reasonable price” He quoted an extremely unreasonable price, but I bargained him down. 
 
After completing my purchase, as I was turning away to rejoin my friends a young woman tried to bump into me. Wary of pickpockets, however, I sidestepped her. Normally, they will simply move on to an easier mark, but this girl gave me a look of pure annoyance and came at me again, forcing something into my hands.  Not trying to take something from me, but rather trying to give me something?
 
It turned out to be a letter:
 
Dear Aedan,
 
                        It is touching that you are still concerned for my safety after all these years. However, there is only one source of danger that concerns me, and since you wrote of an ‘unexpected’ source, I must conclude that you have no news of her. I have complete confidence that I can handle any danger from other sources.   As you should have cause to know, I am quite capable of protecting myself and I prefer to do so, in my own way.
 
Furthermore, I do not think it wise for us to meet again. Our lives and purposes coincided for one year, during which the Blight was defeated, I have other cares and concerns now, of which you have no part, and I expect the same is true of you. I wish you well on your travels, but do not want or need your assistance. 
 
Morrigan
 
I shook my head in exasperation and crumpled the note in my hand. 
 
“Bad news?” inquired Yves, as he approached. Once again, he had managed to come upon me at a time when I was too preoccupied to notice his taint. I was alarmed to see Enrique beside him. Could he have betrayed me?
 
“A minor disappointment, yes.” I replied. “Good afternoon, Yves.”
 
“So sorry to hear…have you met our court liaison, by the way? This is Enrique de Alianca. May I present the most famous hero of our age, Commander Aedan Cousland.”
 
“We met in passing once. Hello, Enrique.” We shook hands in greeting.
 
“You and Alistair are still here, I see.” Yves continued. “I realize it can be quite challenging to tear yourselves away from the delights of Val Royeaux, but do keep in mind that the passes into Anderfels are subject to snow quite early in the year.”
 
“We plan to leave quite soon, but thank you for the advice.”
 
“I suppose you are waiting until you have seen that mage…what is her name again…Morrigan?”
 
 I could feel a bead of sweat appear on my forehead; if he saw it, I hoped he would attribute it to the hot sun. I spoke with a studied, casual tone. “We do hope to see her before we leave yes.”
 
“From what I’ve heard, you sounded more than hopeful. Avid, at the very least. And I wondered,” he said, toying with his long hair, “why is he so interested in this mage? Why now?’
 
I forced myself to shrug. “Is it so surprising that I would seek out an old friend I have not seen in a few years? I contacted Leliana my first night in Val Royeaux.” I could see that Alistair had turned around and was looking in our direction now, perhaps he had sensed the gathering of taint behind him.
 
“Oh, I don’t know, I thought perhaps it might have something to do with the dreams…you have had one or two by now, I assume?”    My eyes flicked over to Enrique—had he told him that I had an interest in the dreams—but it seemed not. “Perhaps you would let me join you when you pay her a social visit?”
 
That caught me off guard—involuntarily, my fists clenched. I unclenched them and made the muscles of my forearms relax, but I think he noticed. “I have, I think, had a dream of the sort you refer to, but what would Morrigan know about that? She’s not one of us. And she’s difficult; I don’t think she would like unexpected visitors.”
 
He held his hands open. “Just a hunch. The fade is a mage’s business, after all.”
 
“But you must have mages at Coteaux du Roche.”
 
“True…but they do not have your Morrigan’s unique background. I thought she might have some…fresh perspective.”
 
“Well, I suppose I can ask her about them when I see her.”
 
“Do that. I am most interested in what she has to say. If you don’t, I think I may pay her a visit myself. You seem to have excellent taste in companions,” he glanced over at the others, “Well, I suppose I’ve taken up enough of your time. I am off to see the men practicing for the melee tournament tomorrow.” He and Enrique disappeared into the crowd.
 
How much does he suspect? Could Celene have told him about Morrigan’s daughter? I had to act soon…or I feared he would act first. I recalled my dream of the night before, the little girl…my daughter crying, “Save me”. Somehow, I would have to find Morrigan, and quickly. I had to get Celene to tell me where she was, whatever it took.
 
When Leliana led us into the theatre later in the afternoon, I was taken aback by its size and splendor. I had attended some plays in Ferelden, but they had always been in rather plain settings, never in a building dedicated for that purpose. Although I suspected that what appeared to be marble columns with gilt filigree supporting the balconies were merely painted wood, it was still impressive. It was nearly as large as a great cathedral, with space for several thousand spectators to watch the stage. It appeared that the noble classes sat in the balconies and the rest crowded together on the ground below them. 
 
The play itself was also unlike anything I had ever seen. In Ferelden, the plays had been rather simple and guided by the Chantry to teach moral lessons, often by dramatizing parts of Andraste’s life. If there was a moral to this play—Leliana had called it a “farce”—I certainly couldn’t see it. It seemed to be about a village lawyer who obtained some cloth on credit from a clothier and the adventures involved in avoiding paying for it. Unfortunately, much of the humor was lost on me, as it seemed to rest on the pronunciations of words in different Orlesian dialects leading to misunderstandings.
 
My understanding was not aided by the fact that I spent much of the time looking across to the balcony where Celene, her ladies-in-waiting, and the Imperial guard sat, along with a number of young men wielding huge fans to keep them cool in the heat of the day. I judged that there was little hope of getting close to the Empress, but Madame Larousse was seated nearer the entrance. Leliana had said there would be an intermission, in the hopes that people would not attend to calls of nature inside the theatre, though it appeared from the scent that some men were sufficiently drunk that they did so anyway. Although it was another reminder of the much sharper divide between noble and peasant, I was happy to be up in the balcony.  
 
When the first act was over, I walked around the theatre in the back corridor and waited near the entrance to the imperial balacony. I noticed one of the young men with fans coming out and decided to approach him. If I were only there briefly, the fan would hide my face and the blue of my tunic was near enough the color of the imperial livery to pass a quick look.
 
“Excuse me, may I borrow your fan for a moment.” He gave me a suspicious look. “Here, I’ll pay you for it, so you can purchase another if I do not return it.” I held out a gold sovereign.
 
“What do you want it for? You going onto the balcony? That’s not…”
 
“Don’t worry,” I said, “I’m not going to do anything. I just need to speak to someone.” I held out a second sovereign. This was far more money than he would see in a month and he could not, and did not, refuse it.
 
Making my way out onto the balcony, my face carefully hidden by the fan, I sidled up to Madame LaRousse and whispered. “Madame, I must speak with you.” I tilted my fan so that she could see my face, but it remained concealed from the others.
 
“Commander Cousland,” she hissed, “What are you doing here?”
 
I grabbed hold of her wrist, prepared to use force if necessary. “Come with me outside a moment and hear me.”
 
“Very well,” she sighed, and made obeisance to the Empress, signaling that she would be back momentarily. “What is this about? You got your answer. I’m sorry if you’re not happy with the response, but there’s nothing I can do about that.”
 
I shook my head. “It’s not acceptable. I must see her. If you cannot tell me where she is yourself, then get the Empress to give me a private audience.”
 
“And why should I do that?”
 
“Because—“ I said, my voice low and lethal—“you would prefer to be my friend, rather than my enemy.”
 
She tossed her head. “Do you dare threaten me?”
 
“Madame Larousse, I stood by at the foot of the Ambassador’s bed while he and his lady lay sleeping. Do you truly wish to find out how daring I can be?”
 
She inhaled sharply, the breath hissing between her teeth. Sweat glistened on her brow. “I—will do what I can. But you must understand that Her Majesty does not respond to my beck and call.”
 
“If you cannot get her to see me, then you will help me to find out where Morrigan is, by some other means.”
 
 “We’ll see.” She glared at me, having recovered her composure. “Talk to the spice merchant from Tevinter at the north end of the market later today, and you shall have your answer.”
 
“Thank you, Madame LaRousse.” I bowed formally, returned the fan to its owner and returned to my seat before the second act began.

[maxernst]

28. MEMORIES: CROWNING A QUEEN
 
Later that evening, after Leliana had played her Song of Iloren for us, we sat in Sybille’s garden. Although the heat of the day had subsided after sunset, it was still very warm in the house, so we dined beneath the magnolia tree in the garden. 
 
“Well,” said Sybille, sipping the sweet vin mousseux the servants had brought out with the peaches after dinner, “it seems we’ve almost come to the end of your story, Aedan. Perhaps you can complete it tonight, before Leliana and I go to Chateau Picart for the funeral?”
 
“I don’t know if there will be time to complete it, but I can perhaps get as far as the Landsmeet this evening. Although we had gathered the armies, we still had much to do, as Wynne was fond of saying.
 
I have to confess that my first priority before getting back to Redcliffe was a rather personal one. I finally coaxed my shy, chantry-raised boy into my tent for the evening the night we left the Dalish camp. Though I knew he was still reticent, I felt that we might never have another chance. So after a long kiss—when I could tell he was aroused from the beating of his heart--as well as other signs,” I glanced into my lover’s lap, “I asked him if he would join me and he did.”
 
“I was still nervous about the physical part of loving Aedan, but I trusted him and he would not want to hurt me or…shame me, so I knew that he must mean to make…love, and not just take And with Eamon planning to make me King, I suppose I wanted to know what it was that I would be…missing.”
 
Sybille looked puzzled, “Why do you both speak as if your relationship might have come to an end? I imagine that you were worried that you might not both survive the final battles, but…”
 
“It wasn’t that, or not only that,” I replied. “If Alistair were King, he would have to marry, try to conceive an heir to the throne. And—well, obviously, he could not do that with me.”
 
“But many kings have women on the side—or men, if that is their taste,” pointed out the Comtesse.
 
I chuckled, “Alistair would not be most kings.”
 
He shook his head. “No, I would not have dishonored my marriage that way. I mean, I loved Aedan, but if I were married to someone else, I wouldn’t be…playing around.”
 
“It was one of the few times we quarreled. I saw it much as you did, Sybille, and told him I didn’t mean to give him up, but Alistair…well, I knew him well enough by then that I wasn’t surprised. But it still hurt a little to know that he would be willing to end our relationship. And he seemed almost angry at me for suggesting otherwise. You didn’t think that I wanted you because you might be king, did you?”
.
 
He shook his head. “It wasn’t that, my dear, you know that I wanted to stay with you. I didn’t want to be King, at all. But if I was going to be King, my duties would have to come first.”
 
“So I thought, that if he did, that at least we would always have those nights we shared in the tent. And I must say it was one time that I was glad I had not taken Alistair’s suggestion and made Morrigan our camp cook.”
 
“Why is that?” Alistair could not see the connection.
 
“I would not have wished to explain why I wanted lard in the middle of the night to her,” as Alistair turned a scarlet so bright that it was obvious even by candlelight.
 
“Lard?” asked Leliana. “What for?”
 
I looked up toward the large white blossoms in the tree above us, “Some activities are easier and more pleasurable with a little grease.” Understanding dawned in Leli’s eyes, and we all laughed as my love’s face changed from scarlet to crimson.
 
“I must say that you appeared to lose all your doubts about making love rather quickly, once you realized the Maker wasn’t about to strike you down with lightning. You seemed quite avid to explore all the possibilities. But after a few of these delightful nights, we were back at Redcliffe and ready to go to Denerim for the Landsmeet. Eamon was certain that we needed to make Alistair King and my heart was heavy at the thought of losing him. But there seemed no other way forward, so we returned to Denerim to try and sway the nobles of Ferelden to reject Loghain and join forces with us to fight the Darkspawn.
 
We had been in Denerim only a short time when Queen Anora’s maid came to us with a most curious request. She claimed that the Queen was imprisoned on Howe’s estate and begged us to rescue her. I was dubious, but Eamon convinced me that even if it were a trap, we had little choice because if Howe killed Anora and blamed us, the Landsmeet would turn against us. In any event, I had business to conclude with Howe myself. 
 
With the maid’s assistance, we managed to enter the estate unnoticed, disguised in the uniform of Howe’s guards. But when we reached Anora’s room we found her trapped behind a magical barrier. It seemed the only way to free her would be to find the mage who had constructed the barrier, and he had descended into the dungeon with Howe.
 
Although we had passed unnoticed through the house, entering the dungeon required a password—which needless to say, we did not know. And so, once more our path was spattered in blood as we fought our way through the guards in Howe’s prisons and torture chambers until we faced the monster himself, as well as the mage who had imprisoned Anora.
 
Slaying Howe was…not as satisfying as  I had imagined it would be. Of course, I knew it would not bring my family back, but somehow I thought I would feel more…closure than I did. Instead, he was just one more body, in the end.
 
Howe had a number of interesting prisoners. One was an Orlesian Grey Warden named Riordan took the initiative to free himself by reaching through the bars of his cell and strangling his guard when he was distracted by our arrival. Another was the son of a Bann who had been at Ostagar and was imprisoned for telling of Loghain’s betrayal.  We found a Templar who had been captured when Loghain had got his hands on Jowan, the blood mage that had poisoned Eamon. And finally, we found Vaughn, the son of the former Arl of Denerim. The Arl himself had fallen at Ostagar and Howe had succeeded in getting Loghain to name him Arl in his place, as Vaughn was thought dead as well. Ugh…I wish I had never let that one out of the dungeon. Denerim would be a happier place if he were dead. But at the time, I thought we needed as many allies at the Landsmeet as possible, even if the man seemed an arrogant fool. He has since proven to be far worse than that, though that is another story.
 
After releasing all the prisoners, we returned upstairs to free Anora and attempted to smuggle her out of the manor. It seemed none of the guards on the upper floor had heard any of the commotion from below and we almost escaped. 
 
However, we were prevented from leaving by the arrival of Ser Cauthrien with a substantial force, coming to arrest us for the murder of Arl Howe. The timing of her arrival—and the charge of murdering Howe—has always struck me as suspicious, though the palace is very close to the Arl’s estate and I suppose that if his spies had seen us going there, he could hardly think that I was paying Howe a social visit.
 
I could not help but suspect a trap, but I can’t see how Anora could have laid such a trap without Howe’s help. She was imprisoned by magic, and Howe was clearly not prepared for our arrival. Nor did Ser Cauthrien appear to have any notion that Anora was there. I have a suspicion that she might have gone there to try and get Howe’s support against her father, but he decided he didn’t like the deal. In any event, I contemplated trying to fight our way out but decided against it, much to Oghren’s dismay. I saw—and still see--Ser Cauthrien as an honorable woman, and was confident she would not execute us without trial. And if I could not bust us out of Fort Drakon myself, I had no doubt that Leliana and Zevran would. Only Alistair and I were imprisoned; the others—including Anora—went back to Arl Eamon’s estate. 
 
As it happened, we were able to free ourselves before the others mounted a rescue mission. It was almost disturbingly easy to escape. I pretended to be suffering from some dreadful ailment and when the guard came in to check on us, we beat him senseless with our fists. I snuck into the armory and stole some uniforms and we were able to pose as new recruits going out on our first patrol.
 
When we arrived back at Eamon’s estate, Anora was waiting for me with a proposition. Knowing that we needed more support to topple her father, she offered to speak on our behalf to the Landsmeet…if I agreed to support her as Queen. Although I knew Eamon would be enraged by this suggestion, I could not help but agree with some of her arguments, in particular that putting a Grey Warden on the throne might be viewed as an inappropriate interference in Ferelden’s politics. After all, the Wardens had only recently been allowed back into the country, and were still not fully trusted.
 
She offered an…unflattering description of Alistair as a King and suggested that he was too inexperienced and would serve Ferelden better as a Warden than as a King. Despite that—or maybe because she thought she could control him—she was willing to marry him, even willing to put up with him continuing his relationship with me on the side, much as she had tolerated Cailan’s mistresses. While I think my love has a stubborn streak that would make him harder to manipulate—by her or Eamon--than she imagined, I could not help thinking that simply leaving her on the throne might be the best solution. And one which would let us stay together.”
 
“Aedan, surely you’re not saying that you considered our happiness more important than Ferelden’s future! I always assumed you were joking when you said it was a selfish decision, and that you knew I just wouldn’t make a good King.”
 
I paused and looked over to him. “I—would not put it that way. I thought it was better to have Anora as an ally than an enemy, and I did not think having Thierin blood was as important to most of the Landsmeet as it was to Eamon. Maybe you and Anora ruling together would have been better than Anora ruling alone, but the Wardens needed you too. I needed you. And it’s not like I was placing an idiot or a monster on the throne.”
 
“You know I didn’t want the throne, but if you really thought it was in the best interests of Ferelden, shouldn’t—“
 
I didn’t let him finish. “But it’s only my opinion that you might have been better together and Eamon’s opinion that you should have been King. You said you thought Anora would be better. I might be wrong.” He still looked troubled but said no more, and I continued my story.
 
 “Although I had a hunch that with Anora’s help we would win the Landsmeet—surely few would support a man whose own daughter had turned against him—we decided to see we could learn anything else that would be damaging to his case. The Queen suggested that there had been a disturbance in the Alienage that might bear investigation. I wondered if she knew more than she let on, but we went there to look around.
 
When we arrived in the alienage, we found a large, angry crowd gathered outside a hospice. We were told that there was a plague spreading in the Alienage, and that healers from Tevinter were inside the Hospice, giving a magical cure for it. The trouble was that people did not seem to be coming back out. It sounded suspicious, to say the least. We were not allowed in the front door—supposedly because of the plague—so we paid off the elven guard at the back door to get in. What we discovered was that there was hardly anyone inside, certainly not the dozens of elves who had been brought in for treatment.. 
 
With a little more investigation—and quite a bit of fighting, for the Tevinter guards were not of a mind to cooperate—we eventually found out what was going on. The whole hospice was a front for an operation to smuggle elves that were to be sold as slaves in Tevinter. With the express permission of Loghain, in direct contravention of Ferelden law, I might add. It was one more crime to lay at Loghain’s door, when the Landsmeet met.
 
The Landsmeet itself did not prove as difficult as I feared. Loghain seemed deranged, focused on a threat from Orlais, even as the Darkspawn ran amok over Ferelden. He accused me of being a tool of the Empress and of having Anora kidnapped, a charge that backfired when Anora herself appeared and spoke on my behalf. After that, he received very little support from the Landsmeet. Still, he would not give up, and rather than drowning the chamber in blood as his supporters and mine fought it out, I chose to fight a duel. Had I planned on making Alistair king, I would have asked him to fight the duel, but as it was, I thought Loghain would be less familiar with opponents of my fighting style than his. Though thirty years my senior, he was still a formidable warrior, but with the help of a helpful little mixture I bought from Cesar in the market, he was overcome and yielded in the end.
 
It was then that Riordan suggested that Loghain be made into a Warden, and my love became more furious than I have ever seen him. For my part, I was irritated by Riordan making this suggestion with no prior warning…I rather think he and Anora must have talked about it beforehand. I wasn’t even sure what he was doing at the Landsmeet. In any event, I had less faith than he that making him a Warden would wed him to our cause. Even Cauthrien and Anora called him “mad”. I was not about to put trust in a madman or someone who thought me an Orlesian agent. Had he freely offered to become a warden before the duel, stepped down from the Regency to spare the kingdom further division before it came to that, I might have thought he had seen the error of his ways and done as Riordan advised. But even so, I was taken aback by Alistair’s vehemence. My dear, would you really have abandoned the Wardens, abandoned me, if I had made him one of us?”
 
“I—I was really angry. I don’t know if I—no, I don’t think I could have…” He frowned. “It would have been very hard to call him brother, after all he had done…”
 
“Well, in any event, I ignored Riordan, though it meant breaking a promise to Anora, for I had told her that if there were a way for Loghain to live, I would take it. But I had in mind imprisonment or perhaps exile, not the rite of conscription. I slew him before all the nobles gathered there and his blood spattered his daughter’s dress. 
 
She was overcome with grief, or perhaps overcome with her own role in her father’s death—but composed herself remarkably well when I advised the Landsmeet to make her Queen. I suppose she might well have feared that having broken one promise, I would break another and tout Alistair for the throne. But I chose otherwise, and so, I believe I lost Arl Eamon’s friendship, as well as hers. But Ferelden was united, the armies were gathered, and there was nothing left but to fight the final battle against the Archdemon. But as I said, that’s too much story telling for a single night…how is your epic going by the way, Leli?”
 
She smiled. “It is coming, though I have been a bit—distracted by other concerns. I have been doing some research on the Blights, and noticed something remarkable.”
 
“Oh?”
 
“In the last four blights, there has always been one Warden whose heroism has been celebrated above all others. I had thought to mention each of their names, and then finally yours, in a prologue…with apologies to Alistair. But the remarkable thing is that the other four all seem to have died in the final battle. You are the only one that managed to survive the Archdemon to be feted in life.”
 
Alistair looked like he might fall out of his chair then, but fortunately Leli’s eyes were focused on me, and she did not notice.
 
“Really? I had no idea. Maybe you had it right all along and the Maker had a special plan for me.” I finished my glass of wine and made my way to bed soon after. Madame LaRousse had secured an audience for me early the next morning, and I wished to be well-rested for it.