The Lady Seeker Nicolene stalked through the halls of the Grand Cathedral, her demeanor stormy enough that no one would dare approach her.
It had been six months since the Archdemon had been slain in Denerim, and everything was slowly but surely going straight to the Void.
The Seekers had been effectively running the Chantry for years now, from behind the scenes. Her Worship, Divine Beatrix, was very, very old, and her mind was going. The healers said that she only had a few more years, at the most, and she simply could not effectively lead the Chantry anymore.
So, while they did their best to make it seem as if Beatrix was in perfect health, Lady Seeker Nicolene and The Left Hand of the Divine, Cassandra Pentaghast, attempted to keep everything running smoothly.
This was a task not helped by the recent Blight in Ferelden, the constant crisis that was Kirkwall, and the recent change of leadership in Orzammar. There was also Orlais' positively infuriating Game, but that was more of a source of constant irritation than anything new.
Nicolene came to the room she was seeking, one of the smaller meeting rooms in the back halls of the Grand Cathedral, out of the way of main traffic. Cassandra was already there, as well as Nicolene's own right hand, Seeker Lambert.
“Lady Seeker,” Cassandra said, as both she and Lambert got to their feet. Nicolene waved at them to sit and sat down at the table herself.
“What news?” she asked.
“Her Worship is much the same,” Cassandra said, a twist to her scarred mouth. “There is no halting the advances of age.”
Nicoline pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I thought as such. Are there any candidates for the next Divine?”
“Many of the Chantry do not want to search for a new Divine until Her Worship is actively on her deathbed,” Cassandra said. “There have been some suggestions of candidates, but overall, no one has been put forward definitively.”
Nicolene rested her chin on the back of her hands. “We need to find candidates ourselves, then,” she said. “If the Grand Clerics do not wish to plan appropriately for the future, we must take the matter into our own hands.”
Cassandra gave a short, sharp nod, her mouth pressed into a thin line.
“Lambert?” Nicolene asked.
“Warden Commander Surana is still missing,” he said. “No Templar, Seeker, nor Ferelden soldier has been able to locate her thus far. We suspect that King Alistair may be hampering our efforts.”
Nicolene waved a hand. “She is not our current concern,” she said. “As long as she is not currently making trouble, I care not.”
Lambert looked disapproving. “Lady Seeker, I must protest,” he said, leaning forward. “A mage with that much freedom and political power—it cannot be tolerated.”
“And if she were currently exercising that political power, I might care,” Nicolene said. “But as it is, she has done nothing except fall off of our maps. I am more concerned about the darkspawn gathering in Amaranthine.”
“King Alistair and Queen Anora have informed us that they have the situation in hand,” Cassandra said. “They have called in reinforcements from Orlais, and it is possible that they have managed to contact Warden-Commander Surana.” she glanced at Lambert. “If Surana is engaged in dealing with the darkspawn, she will not be the danger you anticipate.”
Lambert still looked unhappy.
“I have seen this pattern before,” he said, his tone dark. “Mages gain power—not a great deal at first, but enough to loosen the Chantry's hold. Then the greedy among them wish to gain more power, and the end result is Tevinter.”
“Is that not an extreme example?” Cassandra said.
“Is it?” Lambert asked. “Consider this—Surana is friends, or at least allies, with key individuals in Orzammar and Ferelden. She helped put King Alistair on the throne! She named Bann Shianni herself and, if the tale is true, found Queen Aeducan wandering the Deep Roads by chance.”
“Many Wardens are friends or allies with important people,” Cassandra pointed out. “Although...that is certainly convenient for her.”
“Surana is not our problem, at this exact moment,” Nicolene said, furrowing her brow. “She can wait. What worries me is the Darkspawn, and the Wardens themselves.”
Lambert nodded. “Surana is just a symptom of a larger problem,” he agreed. “We have little control over the Wardens of Orlais and the Anderfels—King Alistair calling upon them for aid concerns me.”
Nicolene nodded in agreement. It was true that a Warden such as King Alistair had never held a throne before, and the precedent it set was...unsettling. The Wardens were not supervised by the Chantry, nor the government of any one nation. They were secretive and insular, recruiting the likes of maleficar and criminals into their ranks.
Before now, however, they had kept solely to the provision of killing darkspawn and leaving the politics to the nobility and the Chantry. King Alistair's coronation had been alarming, even if it did seem to be the best solution for the country at the time. The fact that a child of Maric's had been inducted into the Gray Wardens in the first place was a red flag, as well. Nicolene had no proof that the Gray Wardens had been conspiring to steal the Ferelden throne, but she had nothing that said otherwise, either.
“And what of Orzammar?” she asked. “Are they helping with the darkspawn problem as well, or are they still sheltering apostates?”
“No, apparently Queen Aeducan sent some of the Legion of the Dead to Amaranthine's Deep Roads, but other than that she's staying out of it.” Lambert informed her.
“We're still losing apostates to Orzammar, I assume.”
Lambert nodded. “The last Templars who attempted to get into the city were driven away at the gate.”
Nicolene hissed through her teeth.
“They are still sending us lyrium shipments,” Lambert added. “They simply refuse to allow Templars to pass through the gates.”
A month after the Archdemon's death, Queen Aeducan had made a formal alliance with Keeper Lanaya, offering the Dalish Clan shelter in exchange for use of their mages. Keeper Lanaya had, in turn, composed several treaties with other Ferelden Clans, resulting in a large number of Dalish Clans moving to the Frostbacks on a semi-permanent basis. There, they were sheltered by Orzammar, and had frequent trade.
Word of the large influx of Dalish had reached the Calenhad Circle, and many mages who had been in the army ran to Orzammar, who sheltered them as well. As it turned out, Orzammar had a great need and appreciation for mages, and very little fear of demons or blood magic. Templars had an extremely difficult time retrieving mages from Orzammar, as the dwarven populace did not appreciate foreign humans barging in and disrupting everyday business.
“Is there any other way to try and retrieve the mages from Orzammar?” Nicolene asked.
Lambert shook his head. “The Templars have tried a variety of different ways,” he said. “Mostly they fail, and with Queen Aeducan's new rules on immigration, it's even more difficult.”
“Wonderful,” Nicolene ground her teeth. “We're going to have to make some new rules of our own—make it more difficult to travel to the Frostbacks or something.”
“If we do that, travel and transport between Ferelden and Orlais will become even more difficult,” Cassandra pointed out. “And Orzammar will have reason to tighten their borders again--”
“Better that than letting them be open to apostates,” Lambert said.
Nicolene sighed and waved a hand. “A problem for later,” she said. “In any case—there is the problem of the darkspawn, the Gray Wardens, and Her Worship. Those are our priorities. It seems to me that the Warden-Commander is merely a symptom of a larger issue—that of the Wardens becoming involved with government.”
Lambert gravely nodded his head. “The Orlesian Wardens have made no advances upon the Court,” he said. “But the Ferelden Wardens had appeared to remain independent for many years before King Alistair was put on the throne.”
“The Wardens have no regulation,” Cassandra pointed out. “No oversight. In times of a Blight, their authority supersedes even the Divine herself. It is no longer a Blight, but there are still Darkspawn about—who is to say that they will not attempt to overreach their authority?”
“Exactly my worry,” Nicolene agreed. “Queen Aeducan and King Alistair—both influenced directly by the Wardens, and King Alistair was crowned without any consultation of the Chantry.”
“Well...that does make sense,” Cassandra said, tilting her head to the side. “The Fereldens are still extremely untrusting of the Chantry, seeing it as an arm of the Orlesian government.”
“King Cailan was crowned by the Chantry,” Nicolene pointed out. “Alistair was crowned in a slapdash ceremony by, apparently, a laysister. He was made King too quickly for any news to reach Orlais.”
“King Cailan was also slain in a plan devised by the Gray Wardens,” Lambert said.
Cassandra rolled her eyes. “The Wardens were not responsible for Cailan's death,” she said. “The battle at Ostagar was a disaster either way.”
“But the Wardens were involved,” Lambert insisted. “And, very conveniently, I might add, the only other man of royal blood just so happened to be in the Warden contingent that survived the battle.”
“You have said this before,” Cassandra said, restraining herself from rolling her eyes.
“It is a legitimate perspective,” Nicolene said with a shrug. “If far-fetched.” she rubbed her temples. “In any case, we need to keep an eye on the Ferelden Wardens and the darkspawn as a whole.” Nicolene sat back in her chair. “I suppose for now, the best we can do it watch the situation. Wardens are the people best equipped to deal with darkspawn, mages or no. Perhaps we can contact someone from the Orlesian Warden chapter and ask that they go to Amaranthine...”
“We should do that,” Lambert said.
Cassandra nodded in agreement. “They can by no means turn down assistance,” she said. “And a Warden will be far better received than anyone else.”
“Certainly better received than a Chevalier, or even a Seeker,” Nicolene said. “And someone needs to deal with the Darkspawn anyway.”
“Who should we send?” Cassandra asked.
“There are only a few Wardens I would trust to do this,” Lambert said. “Especially with the possibility of Surana returning...”
“Contact them,” Nicolene instructed. “Speak to them, and send the one you believe is best suited to Amaranthine.”
Kitranna Surana, Commander of the Grey and Hero of Ferelden, was currently walking up a rainy road, her waterproofing spell being thoroughly tested by the rain, and hating every step of it.
Alistair had called her back into active duty. She had been wandering Ferelden, on errands of her own, not actively trying to disappear but neither was she advertising her presence, when Alistair had requested her assistance with the Darkspawn problem in Amaranthine.
She had been met on the road by Mhairi, a young, hopeful Warden recruit. They were within sight of Vigil's keep when something began to feel off.
“What's going on?” Mhairi said, looking around. “Why are there no Wardens here to greet us?”
Something prickled at the back of Kitranna's head, and she sighed. “I feel darkspawn,” she said, gritting her teeth.
“Darkspawn?” Mhairi said. “But--”
She was cut off as a man came barreling out of the Keep's broken gate, chased by several hurlocks. Kitranna and Mhairi both pulled out their weapons and dispatched the darkspawn with little trouble, but this was only three of them.
As soon as the darkspawn were down, Mhairi set about tending to the man that they had been chasing. He looked terrible, battered and shellshocked.
He stared at Kitranna. “Are you—the Hero of Ferelden?” he asked.
She folded her arms. “Why do you say that?” she said.
“Commander...” Mhairi hissed.
Kitranna rolled her eyes. “Yes, fine, it's me. What's going on here?”
“Oh, thank the Maker...” the man breathed. “I don't know, they came out of nowhere! All I heard were screams and people dying...I got out as fast as I could, but I ran into...those...” his gaze drifted to the dead Darkspawn. “Please, we need to help them!” he said, gesturing to the Keep.
“'We' nothing,” Kitranna said. “You are getting yourself to safety. Mhairi and me are going to deal with this.” she pointed him down the road.
“Uh—yes, my lady,” the man said. “Thank you, my lady.”
The man left, and Mhairi turned to Kitranna. “We don't have a lot of time, Commander...” she said.
“I know that,” Kitranna said. “Come on—we need to keep going.”
Mhairi nodded. “Let's teach these evil bastards a lesson,” she growled.
Kitranna moved ahead, with Mhairi at her heels. “Who's in charge here?” she asked. “A seneschal, something like that?”
Mhairi nodded. “Yes, Commander—Harel, the King's Steward.” she looked up at the Keep, biting her lip. “I do not know if he is still alive.”
“We don't know if anyone's alive,” Kitranna said. She summoned her Arcane strength and durability, making her armor and skin gleam and the Fade around her warp a bit. Mhari peered at her, but didn't comment. “And the Keep definitely wasn't like this when you left?”
“No, of course not!” Mhairi exclaimed.
There were more darkspawn inside the walls of the Keep, and Kitranna could feel even more inside the fortress itself. She scowled—she had encountered fewer and fewer darkspawn ever since she had killed the Archdemon, and this many in one place was alarming.
She and Mhairi fought several darkspawn groups, rescuing a bare few survivors. Mhairi was a knight in the King's army, the daughter of a minor noble from a bannorn that Kitranna couldn't remember the name of. She had fought in the last battle in Denerim, and was well-experienced at killing darkspawn.
They fought their way to the fortress of Vigil's Keep itself. At the gates there was a positively enormous Ogre, but they managed to slay it as well.
Mhairi was clearly flagging by the time they killed the Ogre, but Kitranna was fine—that Arcane Warrior strength was very handy during long fights like this.
The inside of the fortress was quiet, unnervingly so. There were bodies on the ground, and one fire still smoldered quietly.
“How did the Wardens not sense the darkspawn coming?” Mhairi asked, staring around at the keep. They could smell smoke and there was definite spell and fire damage on the walls. “I don't understand...”
“How many Wardens are here?” Kitranna asked.
“Maybe a dozen, from Orlais,” Mhairi said. She shook her head. “This doesn't make any sense...how did the darkspawn ambush the Keep so effectively, with no Archdemon leading them?”
Kitranna narrowed her eyes. “Maybe it's another Archdemon,” she said.
“So soon?” Mhairi shuddered. “A frightening thought.”
Kitranna shrugged. “Could be something else. Or they learned how to do it themselves.”
“I don't know which is worse.”
“Me either,” Kitranna said. “Come on.”
They moved ahead, fending back yet another wave of darkspawn. The gate to the inner Keep was locked and barred, so they were forced to go around. It was in one of the side rooms that they encountered a surviving mage, burning several darkspawn attackers with a very considerable fire spell.
The last darkspawn fell, and the mage shook his hands as if he'd burned them as well as his opponent. He turned to face Kitranna and Mhairi and blinked, expression surprised. He glanced over at the dead darkspawn, and Kitranna realized there were at least two Templar bodies there as well.
“Ah—I didn't do it.” the mage said, lamely.
Kitranna raised her eyebrows and she and Mhairi exchanged a look.
“Oh—don't get me wrong,” the mage said. “I'm not broken up about them dying, to be perfectly honest. Biff there made the funnest gurgle when he went down.” he gestured at one of the fallen Templars.
“I'm sure he did,” Kitranna said. “Ah—who are you, exactly?”
“Where are my manners?” the mage said. “I'm Anders, mage and wanted apostate, at your service.”
“Apostate, huh?” Kitranna said. She narrowed her eyes. “Wait a second—I know you!”
“You...do?” Anders grimaced.
“You're that idiot who jumped in the lake, at Calenhad!” she pulled her hood down.
His eyes widened. “Surana!” he exclaimed. “I'm the idiot? You helped a blood mage escape and then went to go fight darkspawn!”
“And saved the whole damn country, if you remember.”
“Yes, well, I think you missed a spot.” he gestured at the darkspawn.
“Commander...” Mhairi said. “What is an apostate doing at Vigil's keep?”
Anders looked at Mhairi. “You weren't here when we arrived,” he said. “I'm sure I would have remembered such a lovely woman as yourself.”
Mhairi glared, and Anders quickly changed tack.
“We were just stopping here on the way back to the Tower,” he said, gesturing to the dead Templars. “Just a short rest, they said, and now they're dead.” he smirked. “Such a shame.”
Kitranna tutted and shook her head. “It really is too bad,” she said, smirking as well. “Well—no time to dwell on it now. C'mon, you can help us take the Keep back.”
“Sure,” Anders said. “We can discuss what happens later...later, when all these bastards are dead.”
So, Anders joined their party as they tried to get into the fortress, clearing out the darkspawn attackers. Anders was a spirit healer of some considerable skill, which proved to be of great assistance.
There were few soldiers still alive, and they encountered absolutely no Wardens, bodies or otherwise, which was greatly concerning. They got deeper inside the Keep (with the assistance of a surviving dwarf who had a love for explosives), and still encountered no Wardens, but plenty of corpses.
It was in the Keep that they found Oghren. He was hacking away at a large group of Darkspawn, and seemed to be holding his own. He spotted Kitranna and waved. They dispatched the darkspawn, quicker now that they had Oghren helping.
They finished with the darkspawn and Oghren came up to them. “There you are!” he exclaimed. “When these darkspawn showed up I thought—just wait till Surana gets here, and you'll all be spitting teeth our yer arses!” he slung his war ax over his back. “Followed the screaming, and sure enough, here you are.”
“Yep,” Kitranna said. “But what are you doing here?”
“Came here thinking I might try my hand at being a bona fide Gray Warden,” he explained.
“He was here when I left,” Mhairi grumbled, folding her arms. “I can't believe the Wardens didn't kick him out.”
“Wardens take all kinds,” Kitranna said, as Oghren opened his mouth, presumably to say something offensive. “Even drunkards like this one.”
Oghren scowled, then laughed. “As mean as ever, eh?” he said. “Probably worse, since yer witch ran off.” he looked at Anders. “Unless—don't tell me you picked up another apostate? He yer boyfriend now? Should I leave you two alone?”
“Wow, a dwarf that smells like a brewery,” Anders rolled his eyes. “Can't find those anywhere.”
“Huh, a mage comedian,” Oghren retorted. “Thought you usually died young.”
“He's just someone we picked up,” Kitranna said. “He's a healer, so I wouldn't piss him off.”
“Healer?” Oghren straightened up. “Far as I know, those are pretty good at holding their liquor. What about you, ponytail?”
Anders blinked. “Not bad at it,” he said. “Though I'm not someone who makes a career out of drinking, unlike someone else I could name.”
“Well—it's nice to see someone else who knows how to hold a weapon,” Kitranna said, grasping Oghren's forearm in a friendly greeting. “C'mon, we can introduce some darkspawn to the business end of a sharp object.”
“Now you're talking,” Oghren said with a grin.
“Are we really going to accept help from him?” Mhairi said with a scowl.
“We sure are,” Kitranna said with a grin.
They continued on clearing out the fortress, faster now that they had Oghren's help. They came across no survivors, until they found one human man, slumped against the wall in a back hallway.
“M-mhairi?” the man croaked, looking up at the woman he named.
Mhairi kneeled down next to the injured man. “Rowland!” she looked at Kitranna. “Commander, Rowland is a knight from Denerim, like me—we must do something for him!”
Kitranna looked at Anders, who shook his head.
“He looks beyond healing magic,” he said quietly. “The best we could manage is a shot of whiskey for the pain.”
“I like the way you think,” Oghren muttered.
“Stop joking!” Mhairi snapped. “This isn't funny!”
“C-commander?” Rowland looked up at Kitranna, who stepped forward.
“That's right,” she said. “That's me.”
“We only had a moment's warning before they were on us, Commander,” he said. “The seneschal ordered a counter-attack, but they came out of nowhere!” he tried to sit up, but couldn't manage it. “There's one with them, a darkspawn who talks—its magic is powerful.”
Kitranna frowned. “A talking darkspawn?”
“Must be delirious,” Oghren said.
Rowland nodded. “No—no, it's true!” he said, and sucked in a labored breath. “Oh, Maker—there's something in my blood—it hurts!”
“The Taint,” Kitranna said with a sigh.
“Is there nothing we can do?” Mhairi demanded.
“Not now,” Kitranna said, and went down on one knee next to the fallen man. “Rowland, I need you to tell me—where is the talking darkspawn?”
“That way—it went after the seneschal...” his head tilted back, and he was dead.
“I will avenge you, Rowland, I swear it.” Mhairi promised.
“Come on,” Kitranna said. “We need to find that thing.”
They went down the hall, and continued through the rest of the fortress, trying to find the talking darkspawn. All the darkspawn they encountered inside were ordinary, however, and they came across nothing unusual until they started exploring the outer walls.
They found a darkspawn, taller than most, dressed in better armor than most darkspawn.
“It has ended just as he foretold,” the darkspawn said. Its voice was whispery and rough. It knocked a soldier off the ledge before turning to two other darkspawn, more normal ones, who held an unfamiliar human man hostage.
“Be taking this one, gently.” the darkspawn instructed, looking down at the human. “We are wishing no more death than is necessary.”
“Necessary?” the man spat. “As if your kind has ever done anything else!”
“You are thinking you know of our kind, human?” the darkspawn's voice was curiously derisive. “It is understandable. But that will soon be changed.”
“Others will come, creature!” the man said. “They will stop you!”
“First,” Kitranna said, and all the darkspawn and the humans turned to look at her and her party. “We'd want to know exactly what was going on.”
“It seems your words be true,” the darkspawn said. “More than you be guessing.” he turned to face Kitranna.
“It is talking!” Anders said, strangely excited.
“Well, let's shut it up already!” Oghren said.
“Commander...” the human man croaked.
“Capture the Gray Warden,” the darkspawn instructed. “The others, they can be killed.”
“Oh, no,” Kitranna said, summoning her Arcane strength about it. “I don't think that'll be happening.”
The talking darkspawn was more difficult to fight than its nonverbal compatriots, but they managed to defeat it in the end. The man who the darkspawn had been threatening got up to greet them.
“Commander, I owe you my life,” the man said. “I am seneschal Varel. It is good you arrived when you did.”
“Mm,” Kitranna wiped her sword off. “What was that thing?”
He shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. He looked out over the battlements. “It seems we have company—there are soldiers in the road.”
Her gaze followed his. She narrowed her eyes—she spotted the livery of the King's men.
“That looks like Alistair,” she said. “Come on—we should go and meet him.”
It was indeed Alistair who approached the gates, flanked by a contingent of soldiers and a harried-looking Templar.
“Looks like I arrived a bit late,” Alistair said with a grin. “Too bad. I rather miss the whole darkspawn-killing thing.”
“No you don't,” Kitranna said. “I'd just about forgotten the smell and then I had to go and kill a whole load of them.”
Alistair sighed. “I'd wanted to come and give the Wardens a formal welcome—I wasn't expecting this. What's the situation?”
“The darkspawn who remained have fled, your Majesty,” the seneschal said. “The Wardens from Orlais are either dead or...missing.”
“Which of course speaks volumes about them, I'm sure,” Kitranna said, rolling her eyes.
“Missing?” Alistair narrowed his eyes. “As in...?”
“Taken by darkspawn,” Kitranna said.
Alistair blanched. “Broodmothers?”
“No, it was both men and women,” the seneschal said. “And more than ever previously.”
Alistair rubbed his forehead. “Well, at least you're still here,” he told Kitranna. “That's something, right?”
“Of course I'm still here. By the time I got here the attack was already half-over and the Wardens were all already gone.” Kitranna said. She shook her head. “Do me a favor and mail an angry letter to the Orlesian Wardens or something.”
Alistair grimaced. “I...don't think that's a good idea at the moment.”
“No? Well what else should we do? A whole contingent of Wardens is gone because apparently they were too incompetent to put up with a wave of darkspawn!” she snapped.
“These weren't ordinary darkspawn, as you might have noticed,” the seneschal said quietly.
Kitranna pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, we need to get those Wardens back, or at least figure out what in the name of the Maker the darkspawn want with them.”
“I'd help if I could,” Alistair said. “But you're on your own for the moment.”
“Hey, what am I?” Oghren protested. “Chopped nug liver?”
“From the smell, that's not a bad guess,” Anders sniped.
“Look, I came here to join the Gray Wardens, and by the looks of things, you could use the help!”
“Hey, I'm not turning down help,” Kitranna said. “But I can't just do a Joining on the spot, you know.”
“I suppose that...all are welcome, in this dire time,” Mhairi muttered.
“Well, good luck with that,” Anders said.
The Templar's head jerked up at the sound of Anders' voice. “King Alistair,” she said, stepping forward. “That man is a dangerous criminal,” she pointed at Anders.
“Who, him?” Kitranna said.
“This is an apostate who we were in the midst of bringing back to the Circle to face justice!” the Templars said.
“Oh, so you're the one in charge of those idiots who got themselves killed by darkspawn?” Kitranna said. “First you can't handle a few demons, now darkspawn! Honestly this would worry me but I'm convinced all that lyrium makes you half-blind as well as stupid, so it's not really a surprise.”
“He is a murderer,” the Templar said, glowering at Kitranna. “I will see him hanged for what he has done!”
“The spirit healer's a murderer?” Kitranna scoffed. “Right, pull the other one.”
“I never murdered anyone!” Anders protested. “Oh—what's the use? You won't believe me anyhow.”
Alistair rubbed the back of his head. “Seems there's not much to say here,” he said. “Unless you had something to add, Surana?”
“Yeah. It's called the Right of Conscription, and I'm invoking it,” she clapped a hand on Anders' shoulder and he almost buckled under the weight.
“What?” the Templar exclaimed. “Never!”
“That's her right as Commander,” Alistair told the Templar.
“Surely you cannot allow a murderer into the Wardens?” the Templar exclaimed. She glanced at Kitranna and Anders, tracing the line of the sword on Kitranna's back. “But...if your Majesty feels it is best...”
“I do,” Alistair said.
The Templar scowled, but inclined her head.
“Me? A Gray Warden?” Anders said. “I...suppose that'll work...”
“Congratulations, ser mage,” Mhairi said with a smile.
Alistair sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “If you have everything under control here, I'll need to take my leave,” he said. “The Orlesians will probably be kicking up a fuss about this...”
“I think we're good here,” Kitranna said. "You go deal with the Orlesians." She sighed. "This is already totally out of control,”
“I couldn't agree more,” Alistair grumbled. “Look—you need to keep a lid on things and deal with this. The Chantry and the Empress won't like hearing about this, Maker knows what they'll do if something else happens.”
“Has there been anything from the Orlesian ambassador?” Kitranna asked. Orlais had sent an envoy to Denerim three months after the Archdemon's defeat, to try and repair communications between the two nations.
Alistair shook his head. “Nothing out of the ordinary, but she'll probably be pretty angry when she hears about this.”
“What about the Chantry? Did the Seekers at Calenhad finish their investigation?”
When word of the demon attack at Calenhad Circle had reached Orlais, the Seekers had immediately sent one of their own to investigate. Kitranna had steered clear of Calenhad, so she had no idea what had happened.
Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose. “They did, and they're not happy,” he said. “Truth be told, they're not very happy about the inclusion of mages into the army at all. There's an awful lot of missing mages, too, mages whose phylacteries got destroyed either by accident or not, and they have no idea where they are.”
Kitranna closed her eyes. “Any other trouble?”
“None yet, but knowing how things work, give it time.”
She ran a hand over her head. “Keep things calm in Denerim,” she said. “And I'll try and work out what's going on here.”
“Try not to destroy everything, will you?”
“I'll do my best.”
Kitranna went to meet back up with Varel, as he was the one coordinating everything at the moment.
“Before anything else is done, Commander, there is an urgent matter we need to take care of,” Varel said.
Kitranna nodded. “The Joining, I know.”
Varel nodded. “We have the capability to perform the Joining,” he said. “As well as three Warden candidates.” he nodded at Mahiri, Anders, and Oghren, who were hovering at different places in the chamber, none of them quite sure what to do at the moment.
Kitranna letout a breath and put her hands on her hips. “We can do it,” she said. “Not sure how happy that'll make the Orlesians, though—three Ferelden Wardens after all the Orlesian ones have gone missing?” she shook her head. “Whatever. C'mon, let's get to it,” she said. “We've got plenty of darkspawn blood and some Archdemon blood handy. Let's go.”
“If you wish,” Varel said.
“The time has come for us to begin the Joining,” Kitranna said in a bored monotone. She pinched the bridge of her nose. She didn't usually stand on ceremony, but Varel had insisted. “Join us, brothers and sisters, join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. Should you perish, know that your sacrifice won't be forgotten, and one day, we shall join you. Now drink this,” she pushed the enormous cup, full of blood, at Oghren.
“What's this, the sampler size?” Oghren demanded, holding the cup in both hands.
Kitranna rolled her eyes. “Just drink it.”
Oghren took a swig and handed the cup back to Kitranna, who held it and watched him. His eyes went white, and he belched.
“Not bad,” he said, eyes still white.
“Amazing,” Kitranna muttered. “Oi, Anders—you're up next.”
Anders grimaced, looking down at the cup. “I need to drink—darkspawn blood?”
“Yeah. Now hurry up.”
“Is that it?”
“That's it. Take the cup, Anders.”
He accepted the cup. “Alright—but if I wake up two weeks from now on a ship bound for Rivain, in nothing but my smallclothes, with a tattoo on my forehead, I'm blaming you.”
“Duly noted. For the love of the Maker, hurry it up.”
Anders took a much smaller sip from the cup than Oghren had done. He gave the cup back to Kitranna, blinked a few times, then collapsed backwards, landing squarely on his staff.
Kitranna sighed, and kneeled down to check if he was still alive. He was.
“Lightweight,” Oghren muttered. His eyes had gone back to normal and apart from a slight shakiness, he appeared totally fine.
“Will he be alright?” Mhairi asked.
“Yeah, he'll wake up sometime,” Kitranna said. “Alright, Mhairi—your turn.”
“I have awaited this,” Mhairi breathed, taking the cup. She took a sip. She choked, clutching her throat, and her eyes rolled up in her head and she fell forward, dead.
“Damn,” Kitranna muttered.
“I am sorry,” Varel said quietly. “May the Maker watch over you.”
Mhairi's body was removed from the hall, and Anders was deposited on an actual bed. While they waited for Anders to wake up, Kitranna was briefed on the state of the Keep, which was not good. There were some nearby merchants who might help them patch the place up, and of course there were at least a few different trade routes that went right through Vigil's Keep, but that wasn't the most important problem they were facing.
They problem with the Orlesian Wardens needed to be somehow addressed immediately. The Orlesians were already getting restless—the civil war had soured the relations Cailan had been trying to secure, and the swiftness with which the Archdemon had been dealt with looked extremely convenient to outside eyes. Dead Orlesian Wardens would just make things even worse.
The majority of the Wardens had been at Vigil's Keep, and they had all died in the attack (which didn't say anything good about the Orlesian Wardens' standards in Kitranna's humble opinion), except for one, who was still out in the field. His name was Kristoff, and he had left a fortnight ago, telling no one exactly where he was going. They assumed he had gone to the city of Amaranthine, so if Kitranna wanted to track him down, she needed to start there.
There was one other thing.
A thief had been caught before the darkspawn attack, and had been spared by being locked in the dungeons. It had taken four Wardens to capture him, so Kitranna, having only Anders and Oghren as backup Wardens, was immediately intrigued, so she went down to see this prisoner.
“It's a good thing you're here, Commander,” the guard in charge of the cells told her when she entered the prisons. “Good men died while this one was protected in his cell,” the guard said, gesturing to the thief in his cell.
Kitranna rolled her eyes. “Maybe they were good men, that didn't make them good fighters,” she said. “If it took four mediocre Wardens to imprison this thief, he must be good for something.” She addressed the prisoner directly while the guard stared at her, aghast. “What's your name?” she asked.
“If it isn't the great hero, conqueror of the Blight and vanquisher of all evil,” the thief sneered. “Aren't you supposed to be ten feet tall, with lightning bolts shooting out your eyes?”
“Can't do much about the height, but I can do this,” she said, and momentarily hot white sparks appeared at the corners of her eyes. “It's not very practical though. Look, I don't have time to trade insults. Your name, and what you're doing here, thanks.”
The man straightened his back. “I am Nathaniel Howe. My family owned these lands before you came. Do you remember my father?”
“Oh, him? He tried to kill the queen and he had a thing for torturing people.” Kitranna tilted her head to one side. “So I don't really feel bad about that.”
Nathaniel blinked at her. “...what?”
“I also don't have time for family nonsense. Tell me what you're doing here.”
“I came here...” Nathaniel faltered. “I thought I was going to try to kill you. To lay a trap for you.”
“Good job. We're all very impressed.”
Nathaniel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then I realized I just wanted to reclaim some of my family's things. It's all I have left—we lost everything when my father died.”
“Hm...” Kitranna leaned back and folded her arms. “So, you didn't know Rendon Howe was into torturing people and regicide?”
“No! I was squired in the Free Marches. Look—I understand that you fought a war and you won, and to the victor go the spoils. But what my father did shouldn't harm my whole family, those of us who--”
“You wanna be a Gray Warden?”
Nathaniel paused. “I'm sorry?”
“I need Wardens who are alive and not idiots. You seem alive and not an idiot. You want to join up with the Wardens or don't you?”
“Are you giving me a choice?”
Kitranna shrugged. “Look, I'll be honest. The only Wardens here are me, a drunken dwarf, and a spirit healer that the Templars hate. That's not even half the people I was working with during the Blight, and we have a nasty darkspawn problem around here that needs to be fixed. If you help out, It'd make me happy.” she paused. “And it might help your family's name or whatever.”
He stared at her. “You like having Gray Wardens who want you dead?”
“I met one of my best friends when he tried to assassinate me,” she said with a grin. “So, y'know, I like my odds.”
“I wasn't aware that the hero of Ferelden was both cold-hearted and a maniac,” he told her.
“You clearly haven't been listening to the right town criers. C'mon,” she said, unlocking the door and taking his arm. “I'm invoking the Right of Conscription. It'll be fun.”
“No it won't!” he tried to yank out of her grip, but she was much stronger than he was.
“Don't care. Come on.”
They went to the seneschal, who was a little put off by Kitranna's choice, but acquiesced to her wishes.
“If you're sure...” Varel said, eyeing Nathaniel warily.
“So, let me get this straight,” Anders, who had turned up to watch the Joining, said. “He wanted to kill you, and you want him to be in the Wardens?”
“Yeah,” Kitranna said. “Varel, give him the cup.”
“Wait a minute, Surana--” Anders started.
Nathaniel took the cup. “Moment of truth,” he muttered to himself, and took a swig. He handed the cup back, blinked a few times, then his eyes rolled up in his head and he fell backwards.
“The Howe is stronger than I expected,” Varel said, leaning down to make sure Nathaniel was alright. “For better or for worse, he will live.”
“Nice,” Kitranna said with an approving nod. “Great—now I have at least a few people to work with.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re bloody crazy?” Anders asked.
“This from the man who jumped into Lake Calenhad and tried to swim to shore?”
Anders sighed. “Point taken.”