The trek down the mountain was not as bad as the trip up had been, and the weather had warmed since they had first ascended to Orzammar. There were more darkspawn about, however, and the dreams of the Archdemon became worse and worse.
As it turned out, the Archdemon had a name. Kitranna woke up one morning knowing it—Urthemiel—without knowing how she knew it. Alistair had the same problem, but Fiona didn't. They theorized it was because of the lack of Taint in Fiona's blood.
Neither Kitranna nor Alistair could understand any of what Urthemiel said, if it ever said anything at all. They just knew its name.
“Urthemiel was once the Old God of beauty,” Morrigan told them after she had heard the name herself. “Worshiped by the Tevinter Imperium long before the Blights ever came to be.”
Fiona made a face at the mention of the Imperium, but didn't say anything.
“It was pretty ugly when we saw it,” Alistair said. "Not really 'god of beauty' material."
"It was hideous," Kitranna agreed. "Like--like a Blight-wolf, with these horrible rotten scales..." she made a face.
Morrigan nodded. “It is said that the Blight corrupts all Old Gods, twists them into Archdemons,” she said. “Presumably it looked very different before it became Tainted.”
When they finally came back to Redcliffe, the town had rebuilt itself to some degree. New walls were constructed and there were new fortifications in place. Some of the houses that had been burned down were replaced, or were in the middle of being restored. Far more stone than wood was used in the reconstruction, and there was a moat being dug around the village as well.
At Redcliffe Castle, several representatives from the Wardens' different alliances were gathered. Two mages Kitranna recognized from Calenhad, along with a Templar, a Dalish woman who eyed the humans with extreme caution, and a dwarven woman who always looked a little alarmed.
Bann Teagan was very pleased to see them, greeting them at the gate.
“You've returned, I see,” Bann Teagan said.
“Yeah,” Kitranna said. “Where's the Arl? I wanna finish this quick as possible.”
“So you found the Urn? It is not a myth after all?”
“No, it's pretty real,” Kitranna said, holding up the pouch that contained the pinch of Ashes. “We had to fight through a damn ruin to get to it. Ask Leliana—she's the one who got the Ashes. How's Eamon?”
“Unchanged, I'm afraid,” Teagan lead them upstairs, to the Arls' bedchamber. Isolde and Connor were by his side, as well as another spirit healer that Kitranna knew from the Circle.
“We've tried magical healing--your allies from the Circle were very helpful,” Teagan said, gesturing to the spirit healer. “But nothing works.”
The healer shook his head. “No—the Arl is an old man, and he was left for a long time unattended.”
“Well, hopefully, we have something that can help,” Kitranna said. Leliana came forward with the pouch of Ashes, which the healer peered at.
“Maker's breath,” he breathed. “What is this?”
“Something that will help,” Leliana said. The healer took the Ashes from her, and glanced at Wynne.
“Do you wish to use this, Enchanter?” he asked her. “I worry—I am not as experienced a spirit healer you are, and in this case...”
Wynne nodded. “I will do it,” she said. She cast the Ashes over Eamon, and the air felt charged for a moment, the Veil shifting and turning, making everyone in the room feel a most peculiar sensation, like someone invisible was talking to themselves.
For a frightening few moments, everything was still. Then Eamon shifted and opened his eyes.
“Wh—where am I?” Eamon mumbled. Isolde gasped and was at his side in an instant, clutching his hand. Connor held tightly to his mother's skirts, watching his father with wide eyes.
“Be calm, my friend,” Teagan said. “You have been deathly ill for a very long time. Do you remember nothing?”
“I—remember...” Eamon tripped over his words, and the spirit healer bustled past Teagan.
“Leave off,” the spirit healer said, irritable. “Wait until he's recovered a little, Maker's blessing,”
“We don't have the time,” Teagan said.
“This will not take much time,” Wynne assured Teagan. “We have brought him from the brink of death—there is still work to do.”
Wynne and the other healer ushered everyone but Isolde and Connor out of Eamon's bedchamber.
“Well,” Kitranna said, putting her hands on her hips. “That worked out alright.”
“How fortunate,” Morrigan said, rolling her eyes.
Kitranna turned to Teagan. “How have the alliances been working out?” Kitranna asked. “Anything I should know?”
“We believe there's at least one Dalish Clan in the forest surrounding Redcliffe,” Teagan said. “There's been some mention of Dalish elves in the Hinterlands, but they won't come any closer. The only Dalish elf who has actually deigned to speak with us is that woman who says she's from Clan Leanvunlas.” he frowned at the mention of the Dalish.
“Yeah, don't bother them if they're not bothering you,” Kitranna said. “You might scare them off and that's the last thing we need. What about everyone else? The mages, the dwarves?”
“The mages came almost right after you left. They frightened the soldiers and villagers some, but mostly they...well, they haven't been anything but helpful.” Teagan rubbed the back of his head. "As I said, the spirit healers have been quite amicable, eager to lend their assistance to Eamon, and the battle-mages have been invaluable in assisting with fortifications."
“Any fighting with the Templars?”
“No, nothing as far as I know.” he folded his arms. “Some of the mages have taken to teaching Connor magic, and the Templars didn't seem to approve, but understood that there were unusual circumstances. And—well, Connor is a noble.”
“Right...” Kitranna grimaced.
“The dwarves showed up a few weeks ago—well, one dwarf. She said there's more on the way.”
“What else? Any more darkspawn attacks, anything like that?”
Teagan sighed. “There have been more darkspawn attacks,” he said. “Not against Redcliffe itself, but from the south there are more destroyed villages and farmsteads. We've been getting refugees from the southern lands by the boatload, and the Orlesian Wardens are still months away.”
“I figured,” Kitranna muttered.
“There's also been some word from the Orlesians themselves,” Teagan said. “Nothing much, but apparently the Empress and the Divine are both concerned about the Blight.”
“Did they offer to help?”
“Mostly they wished to know what was happening,” Teagan's mouth twisted. “It is not likely the Orlesians will offer any helping hand.”
“Makes sense.”
Teagan tapped one finger against his cheek. “There were also some odd letters from the Antivan Crows...” he said.
“Yeah, that's probably because Zevran is with us,” Kitranna nodded.
Loghain had sent more men, but they were easily dispatched, and with the mages from the Circle and the Dalish woman, any other strange mages could be detected before they did damage.
Wynne and the other spirit healer soon declared Eamon fit for speaking to, and Teagan filled him in on the most recent news. Kitranna, Fiona, Alistair, Teagan, Wynne, the Dalish representative and the dwarven ambassador all packed into Eamon's bedchamber to hold their meeting.
“This is most troubling,” Arl Eamon said after hearing everything, stroking his beard. He had been advised to keep to his bed, at least for now.
“A little, yeah,” Kitranna agreed.
“There is much to be done, it is true,” Eamon said. “But I must first be thankful to those who have done so much.”
Fiona muttered something in Orlesian, and everyone glanced at her but no one commented.
“Gray Wardens, I am in your debt,” Eamon addressed Alistair, Fiona and Kitranna. “If you would allow me, I will declare you and those traveling with you Champions of Redcliffe. You will always be welcome here.”
Fiona scowled. “Finalmente,” she growled.
“Oh, well that's nice,” Alistair said, with a glance at Fiona. “We all appreciate that.”
“You know a lot of us are mages, right?” Kitranna said.
“Mage or no mage, you have not only saved Redcliffe, but you saved me, and you have saved my son,” Eamon said.
“Yeah, well, everyone is still in danger,” Kitranna said. “From the darkspawn.”
“And the Archdemon,” Alistair pointed out.
“We should speak of Loghain,” Teagan said. “There is no telling what he will do once he learns of your recovery, Eamon.”
“Loghain instigates a civil war even when the darkspawn are on our very doorstep,” Eamon said in disgust. “Long have I known him—Loghain is a sensible man, one who never desired power.”
“It makes little sense to me as well,” Fiona said. “I have known him a long while myself—I have fought beside him.”
“I was there when he announced he was taking control of the throne,” Teagan said. “He is mad with ambition, I tell you!”
“Mad indeed,” Eamon agreed. “Mad enough to kill Cailan, to attempt to kill myself, and destroy my lands--”
“It was my understanding that it was an untrained mage summoning a demon that damaged your lands,” said the Dalish woman, speaking for the first time. “Your Loghain is only to blame for the assassination.”
Everyone looked at her.
“I beg your pardon, Mistress, but who...are you?” Eamon asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Oshathyla Arthiomen Leanvunlas,” the woman said. “I—come here representing Clan Leanvunlas, and the other Dalish Clans of Ferelden.” she glanced at Kitranna. “To honor the Dalish alliance with the Gray Wardens.”
Eamon tilted his head back. “I see...”
“It was Loghain who initiated the assassination attempt on Eamon, yes,” Fiona said. “And you are correct—it was an untrained mage accidentally summoning a demon that did the damage to the physical land of Redcliffe, but an assassination attempt on the lord of the land is an attack on the land itself.”
Oshathyla nodded. “I see...”
“Are there many Dalish here?” Eamon asked. “You did not mention them, Teagan.”
“It slipped my mind,” Teagan admitted. “Only—ah—Mistress Ashathyla has made her presence known—we believe there are others in the Hinterlands, but they haven't spoken to us.”
“Oshathyla,” the woman in question corrected. “And my people are staying out of the way of yours.” she told Eamon. “We wish no...accidents.” her lip curled on the word 'accident.'
“Mm,” Eamon nodded. “No repeats of Red Crossing.”
“Certainly not.”
The temperature in the room was growing distinctly cooler, and it appeared Teagan felt the need to step in.
“Regardless, Loghain must be stopped,” he said.
“Mm,” Eamon nodded. He rubbed his forehead. “We cannot fight a civil war to the end---someone must surrender if Ferelden is to have any chance of fighting the Darkspawn.”
“Great plan. How do you want to do that?” Kitranna asked.
“We may spread word of Loghain's treachery against the King—but it will be a claim made without proof. Those claims will certainly give Loghain's allies pause...”
“Is there something Orzammar could do to help with this?” said the dwarven representative. She was dressed in full plate armor, like Alistair, and carried a large two-handed sword on her back.
“You are the Orzammar ambassador, yes?” Eamon asked.
She nodded. “Ambassador Irren Talvi, daughter of House Talvi,” she said. “Is it possible this Loghain is the kind to back down when shown a larger army than his own?”
“He and King Maric threw the Orlesians out of Ferelden,” Fiona said in a dry voice. “And he wishes to instigate this war while the Darkspawn are on his doorstep. Does it sound as if the armies of Orzammar would sway him?”
Ambassador Talvi held up her hands. “It was a thought. The entire reason the Orlesians did not invade us when they invaded Ferelden was because they had no idea what our military could do.”
“You ship them lyrium, also,” Oshathyla said.
“No, we ship the Chantry lyrium. That's why they don't declare an Exalted March on us for being heathens.” Oshathyla made a disapproving little noise at that, but didn't say anything.
“Even if Loghain was the sort to be put off by shows of power, it does not matter,” Eamon said. “We must save our armies for the Darkspawn. We need something that Loghain cannot ignore. We need someone with a stronger claim to the throne than Loghain.”
“There is already a queen on the throne, who could possibly have a stronger claim than her?” Fiona asked, her eyes darting to Alistair.
“There is someone with a stronger claim,” Eamon said slowly, his gaze going to Alistair as well.
Teagan followed his eyes. “Are you referring to Alistair, brother?”
“What?” Alistair sputtered.
“No!” Fiona protested. “Absolutely not!”
“Eamon, are you certain?” Teagan asked.
“I would not suggest it if we had an alternative!” Eamon said, over the sudden noise. “But the unthinkable has occurred.”
“Look, I don't really want—I mean--” Alistair said.
“No,” Fiona insisted.
“If there's already a queen, wouldn't that just make the civil war worse?” Kitranna asked.
“Alistair is the son of Maric,” Eamon said. “He has a stronger claim to the throne than Anora does.”
Kitranna rubbed her temples. “This is like Orzammar all over again...” she sighed. “Do we really need to challenge the throne? Why not get the queen on our side?”
“Queen Anora seemed reasonable,” Alistair said quickly. “Whenever I...heard about her...”
“She is Loghain's daughter,” Eamon said. “I do not think it would be possible to get her on our side.”
“Why not?” Alistair said. “I mean, I'm sure she doesn't want a civil war or darkspawn to eat everything either.”
“She is clever, dangerously so,” Eamon said. “We could not possibly trust her. Alistair is someone we know, and he is already a Gray Warden, which means his goals align with ours.”
“Alright, that's wonderful, but I don't really want to be king,” Alistair said.
“You have a responsibility, Alistair,” Eamon said. “Without you, Loghain wins. I would have to support him for the sake of Ferelden.”
“And if you did that, Ferelden would surely fall,” Fiona grumbled. “Surely there is a better way—Anora is Loghain's daughter, yes, but she is also a reasonable woman. Or—perhaps there is a way to gain the allegiance of the nobility. Then someone else could assume the throne.”
“We sure Maric doesn't have any other bastards bopping around?” Kitranna asked, and Eamon, Alistair, Teagan and Fiona all glared at her. “What? It's a fair question. If he's got one there's bound to be others.”
“None that I know of,” Teagan said.
“Nor I,” said Eamon.
Kitranna pinched the bridge of her nose. “And what about everyone who doesn't want to see a bastard usurp the throne?” she asked. “Uh—sorry about the 'bastard' thing, Alistair.” she added.
“'S fine, technical term and all that.”
“Anyway, what if someone doesn't like the idea that some heir of Maric's come gallivanting out of nowhere? It's not like Maric's around to prove it's true. We could have just grabbed some Gray Warden who looks like Cailan or Maric or whatever and said he was Maric's son!”
“That is what opponents will say, yes,” Eamon agreed. “However, both Teagan and I know he is of Maric's bloodline--”
“Won't that only convince people who were already on your side?” Alistair asked. "Look--no one wants to be eaten by darkspawn. If there's some way to get support from the Wardens by bypassing Loghain--"
“In Denerim, it's believed that the darkspawn threat is overblown,” Teagan said. “Exaggerated by frightened peasants and rumors. There are very few supporters of the Wardens there, and there won't be more until we take care of Loghain.”
“But—the Blight has been coming for over six months!” Oshathyla said. “There are darkspawn all over the southern end of Ferelden! There are entire settlements gone—how can they not know?”
“News travels slowly, I'm afraid,” Teagan said.
“This is the only solution,” Eamon said with a sigh.
“It can't be the only solution!” Alistair protested.
“Well...” Kitranna said slowly. “Alistair, could you marry the queen?”
“What? I don't even know her!”
“Yeah, but, she's already in charge, and if you married her, we could have the bloodline thing without you having to be the only monarch, right?”
“I'm a Gray Warden! I can't even have children, what kind of King would I make either way?”
“You can't have children?” Teagan said in surprise.
“Barring unusual circumstances, no. Wardens are incapable of having children.” Alistair folded his arms and leaned back on his heels.
Eamon and Teagan exchanged a worried look.
“That's just another reason to get someone else as king!” Alistair said.
“Or stop having kings altogether,” Oshathyla said. “Just a thought.”
“We can hardly change our entire method of government right now,” Fiona said.
“Maybe you should. It would stop this nonsense cold.”
“As of this moment, I see only one way to proceed,” Eamon said. “I will call for a Landsmeet, in Denerim. There, the nobility can decide our true ruler, one way or another.”
“Denerim?” Kitranna said. “We can't go to Denerim—there's that whole issue of 'Loghain already sent people to kill us.'”
“The last person who did that was Zevran,” Alistair pointed out.
“Maybe next time someone will hire a Crow who doesn't hate his job,” Kitranna suggested.
“Hm,” Eamon frowned. “That is a risk we must take.”
“Alright, well, before we do that, my people and I need to go south,” Kitranna told Eamon. “We have some things we need to do before we can go to Denerim.”
“Your entire company?” Eamon asked.
“What are we going south for?” Alistair asked her, both Fiona and him looking at her in surprise.
“Favor for Morrigan,” Kitranna explained. “Remember? That thing about Flemeth.”
“Ah,” Alistair nodded. “Right. Are you sure that's a good idea?”
“You don't have to come. You could just go straight to Denerim.” she looked back at Eamon. “But I have to take a detour to go south.”
“How long will this detour take you?”
“Hopefully not long at all,” Kitranna said.
“Hopefully?”
“Well, things could always go wrong.” she rubbed the back of her head.
“It seems more prudent that you immediately go to Denerim,” Eamon said with a frown.
“Yeah, I'll think about it. The point is, my company and yours probably won't be traveling together.”