“Well, you've simply outdone yourself.” Bhelen was quite pleased at their work—one might even say smug. “They're talking all over the city about how someone finally went through Dust Town and slaughtered the Carta like gemlocks.”
“It wasn't really like that,” Kitranna protested. “I mean, I guess, but...”
“Most of them had no choice, I am sure,” Fiona said, with a glare aimed at no one in particular. “They could hardly help how they were born.”
Kitranna nodded. “Now—we helped you. Will you help us?”
“As soon as I take the throne, I promise I will get you the troops you need.”
Kitranna's lip curled. “And when will you take the throne?”
“Unfortunately, I cannot say when. While many deshyrs appreciate my ending Jarvia's threat, Harromont still holds great loyalty.”
Kitranna closed her eyes. “What else can I do? We can't be in this stalemate forever—the Wardens need your army.”
“There is...one last thing, which may force the Assembly's hand, in my favor,” Bhelen said. “Something dramatic, to shift the balance.”
“Like what?” Kitranna folded her arms.
“What do you know of the Paragon Branka?”
Kitranna paused. “I've heard her name a few times,” she said.
“The only living Paragon you've had in many years, is she not?” Wynne said, and everyone glanced at her. “I had some time while you were dealing with the Carta,” she said. “That's what the Shaperate told me.”
Bhelen nodded. “And she's missing. Two years ago, she heard of something the Ancients created. It inspired her to leave everything behind and venture into the Deep Roads.” he shook his head. “She's the only Paragon in four generations, and she turned her back on her responsibilities. But a Paragon is like an ancestor born in this time; if she returned, her vote would outweigh the entire Assembly. Anyone with her support could take the throne unchallenged.”
“She's been in the Deep Roads for two years?” Fiona said. “How are you so sure she's even alive?”
“She's a Paragon,” Bhelen said. “And this was no Warden suicide mission—she took her entire House with her, quite literally she had years of supplies.”
Fiona scowled at the phrase 'Warden suicide mission' but made no other comment.
“Why are you so certain she'd support you?” Kitranna asked. “Does she even know you?”
“I was hoping you could convince her,” Bhelen said. “Persuade her that the rightful king should be on the throne.”
“What's to stop her taking the throne herself?”
“If she wanted the throne, she would have taken it already,” Bhelen said. “She didn't want it, so she didn't take it.”
“What if we can't find her?”
Bhelen tilted his head to one side. “Consider this; if the Deep Roads have...addled her wits, it may be best that she not return before the vote is decided.”
“...and...?”
“And even the phantom support of a Paragon is better than none at all.”
Kitranna glanced around at her companions, who all looked dubious.
“We need to talk about this,” she told Bhelen, and he left them alone.
“This is ridiculous,” Morrigan said. “We could spend months in the Deep Roads, if we even survive the journey.”
“I agree,” Fiona said. “There is a very good reason they are abandoned.”
“We have already swayed many people to Bhelen's side,” Wynne pointed out. “Is this really necessary?”
“As deep as we are into this, it is likely that yes, it is entirely necessary,” Zevran said. “We need not even search the Deep Roads for her—perhaps we spend some time there, say that we have found her, and say that she supports Bhelen. If no one else has found her in all this time, she can hardly contradict us.”
“But why is it necessary?” Wynne asked.
“Yes—this seems even more dangerous than what you usually do,” Jowan said.
“We are already involved,” Zevran said. “And swaying public opinion is a very delicate and dangerous business. There is a chance that Harrowmont will take the throne even with the support Bhelen has—which is likely, considering they are both second choices to someone else. We must do everything possible to ensure Bhelen's success.”
“Should we be making this decision without Leliana?” Wynne asked. “Where is she?”
“I am here,” Leliana said, and everyone except for Zevran jumped, not realizing she had come up behind them.
“How did you get here so fast?” Kitranna asked.
“Raen's sister was not in her home. As it turns out, she moved here—she is actually the woman who bore Bhelen a son.”
“Is she now?” Zevran said in surprise. “Fascinating.”
“So, I brought Raen here, so she could meet with her sister. Now, what is it that we are doing?”
“Attempting a Deep Roads expedition,” Zevran explained. “We are to either retrieve the Paragon Branka or say that we have done so, in order to gain her support for Bhelen's kingship.”
Leliana's face fell. “What we have already done is not enough?”
“Perhaps. But there is also the chance that no, it is not.”
Leliana sighed. “Then we should do it.”
“Alright,” Kitranna said. “I suppose we'll tell Bhelen we're going to the Deep Roads, see if he has any leads.”
As it turned out, Bhelen did have one singular lead. Branka's husband, Oghren. The man was a drunk and a disgrace to the warrior caste, apparently, but being Branka's husband meant that he was the most likely out of everyone else to know where she might be. So, they went to go find him.
On their way out of the Palace, they encountered Raen, talking with another dwarrowdam. The other woman had long red hair tied into braids at the back of her head, and she had lighter skin than Raen, but they shared the same nose.
“Oh—hello,” Raen said when she saw them, and waved.
“You found your sister, I see,” Leliana said with a smile.
Raen beamed. “This is Rica,” she said. Rica gave a shy smile and a little wave of her own. “Rica, this is the Warden that got me and Leske out of Jarvia's prison,” she gestured at Kitranna, “And this is Leliana, who helped me and Leske get back to Dust Town.”
“It's very nice to meet you,” Rica said.
“It's good to meet you as well,” Leliana said.
“What are you doing next?” Raen asked, putting a fist on her hip. “I heard you're working with Bhelen. You need an extra sword along?”
Kitranna raised her eyebrows. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I have no job.”
“You could stay here with me!” Rica assured her sister. “Bhelen wouldn't mind—if Mother gets to live here, I'm sure you could too!”
“That's probably a better idea,” Kitranna said. “We can't have too many people along—and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want to go down into the Deep Roads under the best of circumstances.”
“That's true...” Raen said, sounding a little doubtful.
“Come on,” Rica took Raen's hand. “Let's go find you a place to stay.”
“Alright,” Raen said.
Oghren was a redheaded dwarven man, dressed in heavy armor. He smelled extremely strongly of ale and his speech was somewhat slurred, but his eyes were alert enough.
“So, you're the Warden who's setting out to search for Branka on the Prince's orders,” he said when Kitranna introduced herself.
“That's me,” Kitranna said. “Fiona and Alistair are Wardens, too, though.” she gestured to the two of them.
Oghren glanced at Fiona and Alistair, looking unimpressed. “Well, if you're the best they got, then standards must have fallen way down,” he snorted.
Fiona scowled. “Fine talk coming from a drunken lout such as yourself,” she snapped. “Can you even hold a weapon?”
Oghren raised his hands. “If you're what they sent, then that's that,” he said. “At least someone's lookin' for Branka, 'sides me.”
“Bhelen seemed pretty intent that she be found,” Kitranna said. “He hasn't sent anyone else?”
Oghren shook his head. “I'm the only one still bothering. And I'm the only one who knows what she was lookin' for, which might be pretty sodding helpful in finding her.”
“A little, yeah,” Kitranna said. “Why haven't you looked for her yourself?”
“Believe me, I have,” Oghren said with a sigh. “But where she was going, it's a lost Thaig. No one's been there in centuries. I searched as far as I could, but...it would take teams of warriors searching for weeks on end to cover enough ground to hope to find it—but, I assume that's exactly what Bhelen's scouts have done?”
“Well...yeah...” Kitranna said. “They did give us a pretty detailed map, but since they haven't found Branka, we're right back where we started.”
“It's not enough that they didn't know what she was looking for,” he said.
“Why did you not tell the prince yourself?” Morrigan said.
“Like he'd ever listen to a thing I say,” Oghren said dismissively. “Anyway, he just wants her for his political shit. I actually want to find her. Anyway, if we pool our knowledge, we have a solid chance at finding Branka. Otherwise, good sodding luck.”
“Sure,” Kitranna said. “Anything to get this done faster.”
The party they were taking to the Deep Roads would need to be small, and they couldn't take everyone. Jowan and Alistair at least would need to stay behind. Jowan because he had little to no fighting experience. Alistair would have to stay so that in case something happened to Kitranna, there would still be at least one Warden capable of killing the Archdemon in Ferelden. Fiona decided to stay behind as well, as she had already had enough of the Deep Roads to last several lifetimes.
After some more debating, they finally came to a conclusion. The Deep Roads party was comprised of Kitranna, Morrigan, Wynne, Zevran, Shale, and Oghren.
Oghren came with them so they could better plan out their expedition. Branka was searching for a dwarven artifact called the Anvil of the Void, which held the secret to building golems. The Anvil had been created by another Paragon, a smith named Caridin, and with it, Orzammar had a hundred years of peace, with the golems protecting the walls.
As far as anyone knew, the Anvil had been built in Ortan Thaig, and Branka had decided that in order to find it, she would have to start there. All she knew was that it was past Caridin's Cross, a place which hadn't so much as been seen for five hundred years. The maps of the Deep Roads that Kitranna had been given were quite accurate, however, a combination of Legion of the Dead cartogaphy and the work of Bhelen's own scouts.
After acquiring sufficient supplies, they all set off into the Deep Roads.
The Deep Roads were utterly enormous. Not nearly as hot as Orzammar was, but still warm, lit with ancient Lyrium lamps and lava floes trapped behind crystal walls that were feet thick.
They walked a quite literal road for some time, which had held up remarkably well, even after centuries of disuse. The roads were carved much more intricately than even the Diamond Quarter in Orzammar, every single piece clearly having been made by a master of the craft.
The Roads, for all they looked quite magnificent, all things considered, smelled foul. There was a stench of rot and filth that was more pervasive the further they went, and the smell of ozone and Lyrium underscored everything. Eventually, the road they traveled came to a dead end where a cave-in had blocked it off, and they were forced to take a detour. They went through a tunnel that was much less intricately carved than the road had been, and infested with Deepstalkers, but still took them on their way.
Finally they came to an enormous, abandoned Thaig. Though left alone by the dwarves, it was riddled with Darkspawn. They dispatched the Darkspawn and decided to camp in the thaig for at least a few hours. There was no day or night underground,but they were all exhausted, and it felt as if it must be night on the surface.
When everyone else was asleep, Morrigan and Kitranna were by themselves. Neither of them was as tired as the others, so they had stayed up to watch for any danger.
“Does this make you think of the Wilds?” Kitranna asked Morrigan, as they sat by the embers of the fire.
Morrigan glanced at her. She had wrapped herself in a blanket, and leaned back against a fallen pillar. “Why would you think such a thing?”
Kitranna shrugged. “We're in the middle of nowhere surrounded by Darkspawn.”
“The Wilds are forest and swamp, not stone. No, this is nothing like them.”
“Was it lonely out there?” Kitranna asked. “It's lonely here.”
“We are with several companions.” Morrigan glanced over at the others. “How is it lonely in any way?”
“Well, we're camping in an abandoned Thaig, so that has something to do with it.” she looked around at all the empty buildings. The only sign of life was their own little camp, and the occasional movement of a far-off deepstalker, spider or nug.
“Perhaps the Wilds were lonely, at times,” Morrigan admitted, tugging her blanket closer. “A world full of people and buildings and things is still very foreign to me, even now. When I wanted for companionship in the Wilds, I ran with the wolves and flew with the birds. If I spoke, 'twas to the trees.”
“Did they talk back?”
Morrigan chuckled. “Hardly. There are no sylvanwoods in the Wilds the way there are in the Brecelian.”
“You left, though. So it can't have been that great.”
Morrigan smiled. “Such simple pleasures will only enthrall for so long. I recall the first time I crept beyond the edge of the Wilds. I did so in animal form, remaining in the shadows and watching these strange townsfolk from afar. I happened upon a noblewoman by her carriage, adorned in sparkling garments the likes of which I had never seen. I was dazzled. This, to me, seemed what true wealth and beauty must be.”
“You think differently now?”
“Oh, yes. You see—I stole a hand mirror from her carriage. 'twas encrusted in gold and crystalline gemstones and I positively hugged it to my chest with delight as I took it back to the Wilds. But Flemeth was furious with me. I was a child and had not yet come into my full power, and had risked discovery for the sake of a pretty bauble. To teach me a lesson, Flemeth took the mirror and smashed it upon the ground. I was heartbroken.”
Kitranna's mouth twisted. “That's awful.”
Morrigan shook her head. “Flemeth was right to break me of my fascination. Beauty and love are fleeting and have no meaning. Survival has meaning. Power has meaning. Without those lessons I would not be here today, as difficult as they may have been. I suspect you learned similar lessons.”
“Oh yeah?” Kitranna leaned her head on her hand. “Maybe a bit. I don't think I'd put it in those exact words though.”
“Then how would you describe it?”
“Get them before they get you,” Kitranna said with a smirk.
“Ah,” Morrigan nodded. “Also a valuable lesson.”
“Exactly right.”
They rested there for some time, but then they had to move on, deeper into the Roads. Everyone was tense and a bit jumpy, especially when Kitranna started to feel more and more Darkspawn, the number and strength growing the further they went.
The Roads were empty of any other dwarves. The Legion of the Dead didn't bother with sticking so close to Orzammar, and there were no other expeditions whose paths they might cross. The hundreds of feet of rock overhead got disorientating at times—it was worst for Morrigan, though she was loathe to admit it. Having spent most of her life in the wilderness she wasn't very used to cities, much less being so deep underground. She occasionally had spells of vertigo and as time went on, she started shapeshifting more and more frequently, usually changing into a spider rather than a bear or a bird. She startled the members of their party when she turned into a giant spider the first few times.
Shale occasionally made comments about some of the Thaigs they came across—apparently they had vague memories of some of them, just scraps of knowledge that proved more interesting than entirely useful.
The Veil was thick in the Deep Roads, far more healthy than it was just about anywhere on the Surface. It still had some damage to it in places, but nothing like the Brecelian or the Circle, and certainly not like Redcliffe.
“Isn't there any place where the Veil isn't warped or worn?” Wynne asked at one point, sighing heavily. “It is as if it is falling apart no matter where we go—and no one lives here who could possibly influence it!”
They came to Caridin's cross after many days of travel, or at least what felt like many days.
“I can't believe Bhelen actually tracked this place down.” Oghren said as they walked down the road to the Thaig. “This used to be one of the biggest crossroads of the old Empire—you could get just about anywhere from here, including Ortan Thaig.”
“What's so important about Ortan Thaig?” Kitranna asked. “Did she go that way?”
Oghren nodded. “Had a feeling she was headed that way—when I saw the maps, I was sure.”
“Why didn't you tell us earlier?”
“Wasn't sure 'till just now,” he admitted. He looked around them, at the walls and buildings. “I can see her all over this place—and the direction she went, was towards Ortan Thaig.”
“What do you mean, you can see her?” Kitranna followed his gaze, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary.
“Well, no one else would've been here,” he said, and explained all the specific traces Branka would leave behind on an expedition. They got through Caridin's Cross, which was positively enormous and labyrinthine, even for a major trading post, and on the other side they came to the road that lead to Ortan Thaig.
They realized someone was following them a few hours after they had left Caridin's Cross.
Someone shadowed them, at a distance but still quite clearly following their footsteps. Zevran made mention of it, but they made the decision to keep going, at least for a little bit, as Kitranna didn't sense any darkspawn. They wanted to try and get a handle on the person shadowing them before they confronted them about it.
The person following them was clumsy enough to be noticed but adept enough not to be seen for more than an instant; periodically there was the sound of someone stepping on something but nothing conclusive to give away what armor they may have been wearing.
After about another hour, Zevran got sick of waiting and apprehended their follower. She was a dwarrowdam dressed in rags, with long dark hair that hung over her face and hollow cheeks. She gave Zevran a fight but she was so thin and wasted that he managed to overpower her.
“Why are you following us?” Kitranna demanded of the woman, who stared at them, her eyes bright and wary as a sullen scowl twisted her lips.
“Wanted to know where you'd go,” she muttered. Her throat sounded dry and her voice rusty, as if she had not used it in a very long time. “Don't see many elves or humans down here. Thought that was funny.”
“What are you even doing down here?”
“She's probably an exile,” Oghren said, and the woman flinched. “A criminal or somethin'. Maybe just pissed off the wrong noble. It's a little hard to tell.” he peered closer at the other dwarf, looking past her curtain of hair. “I know you!” Oghren exclaimed.
The woman wrinkled her nose. “I'm sure you don't.”
“You're the Aeducan girl—Bhelen's sister!”
“The princess?” Kitranna said, staring hard at the dishevelled woman.
“Is that all I am?” the woman sighed. “Bhelen's sister?”
“That depends on whether or not you really are she,” Zevran pointed out.
“Does it matter at this point?” she scowled up at Zevran, who hadn't released his hold on her.
“It may.”
“Why?”
“Well, we're here because of Bhelen,” Kitranna explained. The woman's back stiffened.
“Why?” she snapped again.
“He is trying to assume the throne,” Zevran said. “He needs the word of a Paragon to secure his position, and that is what we are trying to get.”
“Why is he taking the throne?” Culwydd demanded. “Did something happen to my father?”
The party fell silent for a moment.
“...oh.” Culwydd hung her head lower, so they couldn't see her eyes through her hair. “Oh.”
“Apparently, 'twas grief that killed him,” Morrigan said, and Wynne glared at her. “What?” she snapped. “It is true. That is the tale they told, at any rate.”
“You have no tact whatsoever, do you?” Wynne said with a disapproving look.
“It is not as if I can hide the truth from her,” Morrigan said, folding her arms.
“It's fine,” Culwydd said. “I appreciate you telling me.” she lifted her head and rubbed her eyes. “So, what is it you hope to find in the Roads? The word of a Paragon?” she hummed. “Oh—you must be looking for Branka.”
“You seen her?” Oghren asked hopefully.
“No, of course not,” the woman rolled her eyes. “Why should I have?”
“How have you survived here, all this time?” Zevran asked.
She snorted. “How do you think the Legion survives here? It's possible, if you're smart enough.”
“You could go back, you know,” Zevran pointed out. “The Assembly clearly favored you and your elder brother over Bhelen and Lord Harrowmont.”
“Harrowmont's opposing Bhelen?” Culwydd said, raising her eyebrows. “Oh, wonderful. I bet the city's just about in riots over that.”
“A little bit,” Kitranna said with a wince.
“All the more reason you should come back to the city with us,” Zevran said. “It would make our work a great deal easier—and we would not have to go searching for that Paragon if we already have you.”
“Hey!” Oghren snapped. “You said we're finding Branka, so we're finding Branka!”
“Why would you want to find her?” Culwydd asked. “The way I heard it, she left you for being a drunken excuse for a warrior.” she smirked. “Apparently you drove her to find comfort in the arms of her smith friends. Her female friends--”
“Alright!” Kitranna held up her hands. “We didn't come here to gossip, hilarious though that gossip may be.” Oghren growled at that.
“You should be on your way, if you want to catch her,' Culwydd said.
“You have not answered the question,” Zevran said. “Do you wish to come with us? We could simply return to Orzammar and--”
“No!” Culwydd snapped. “No—no, I won't do that.”
“Why not?”
“No,” Culwydd shook her head. “No, I deserve this.”
Everyone stared at her.
“Deserve what?” Kitranna asked.
Oghren rolled his eyes. “She's sayin' she deserves to get thrown in the Deep Roads,” he snapped. “Why in the name of every last sodding Paragon would you think that?”
Culwydd glared at them. “I didn't save Trian!” Culwydd burst out. “I let Bhelen kill him! This is my fault!”
“I don't follow,” Kitranna said.
“It's my fault Trian's dead!” Culwydd said.
“So you did kill him, then?” Oghren said.
“No, you idiot!” Culwydd jerked her head up and scowled at Oghren. “Bhelen's damned thugs already killed him when I got there—I just didn't stop them! It's my fault!”
“That sounds to me like it was the fault of those who actually committed the act,” Wynne said quietly. “Not yours.”
Culwydd turned her back on them. “Let me be,” she said. “Go find your Paragon, if you can. Leave me out of it.”
“You would die down here, for something that is not even your doing?” Zevran asked.
“It is my doing,” Culwydd folded her arms. “Go. You have your errand to run for Bhelen.”
Zevran frowned, but Kitranna put a hand on his shoulder.
“If that's what she wants, then that's what she wants,” Kitranna said with a shrug.
They left Culwydd and moved on, to Ortan Thaig. The Thaig was an enormous, crumbling ruin, with the remains of once-massive statues and buildings so old they looked more like the caves they were hewn from. They found evidence that Branka had been there, but moved on.
They encountered another dwarf who scavenged in the Deep Roads, but unlike Culwydd, Ruck's mind was in tatters. Oghren suggested that he'd eaten of darkspawn flesh or some other tainted meat—the Legion and Culwydd would both know to avoid doing that, but a more common criminal wouldn't.
By all rights, Ruck could have gone to the Legion of the Dead, as they accepted criminals, even murderers, but now he was sick with the Taint, his mind coming and going, and he didn't want to join them anyway. They left Ruck to his own devices, like they had Culwydd, even though both Zevran and Oghren thought perhaps a mercy killing was in order.
The place was swarming with spiders, the largest twice the size of Morrigan's spider shape. There were more of them than there were darkspawn. Fortunately, there was a trick to keeping away—leave some food out, and they tended not to bother travelers.
This strategy failed when they encountered a massive, diseased spider queen, which, to Kitranna, fairly blazed with the Taint. The spider had evidently gotten a hold of some Tainted food, like Ruck had, and became large and aggressive after consuming it. It attacked them, and after a long and drawn out battle, they defeated it.
They found Branka's journal far at the outermost reaches of the Thaig. Battered and worn but still legible, Kitranna flipped through it, Oghren peering around her shoulder.
It said that Branka had found evidence that the Anvil was not built in Ortan Thaig, but somewhere beyond the Dead Trenches, beyond hordes of Darkspawn and deep into the oldest and most thoroughly abandoned reaches of the old dwarven empire.
“My soldiers say I am mad, that the Dead Trenches are crawling with darkspawn,” the last entry read. “That we will surely die before we find the Anvil...if we find it. I leave this here in case they're right. If I die in the Trenches, perhaps someone can yet walk past my corpse and retrieve the Anvil. For if the Anvil remains lost, so do we all. If I have not yet returned and Oghren yet lives, then tell him...no. What I have to say should be for his ears alone. This is my farewell.”
Oghren grabbed the journal out of Kitranna's hands and stared intently at the last lines. “I...I knew she still cared,” he muttered, swiping at his eyes. “Old softy...” he raised his voice and slammed the journal closed. “Looks like the Dead Trenches is our next stop then.”
“What are the Dead Trenches?” Kitranna asked.
“They say that darkspawn nest there,” Oghren explained. “Whole armies of 'em.”
“Well, that sounds truly wonderful,” Morrigan drawled. “Must we really go there?” she asked Kitranna. “There is still time to abandon this endeavor and not become skewered on a darkspawn blade.”
“Warden..” Oghren growled.
“We'll go,” Kitranna said with a sigh. “I mean—we definitely have a proper lead now, and we've already come all this way.”
“If you wish,” Morrigan said, her expression clearly dubious.