Kitranna was called to Denerim soon after she and the others
returned to Vigil's Keep.
“Probably something nasty and political,” she told the other Wardens, rolling her eyes. “I'll be back soon—keep a watch on the walls, make sure no other darkspawn try bashing themselves against them.” she instructed the other Wardens.
“We should come with you,” Sigrun said.
Kitranna shook her head. “You stay here,” she said. “Watch the Keep.”
She headed to Denerim, alone, and when she arrived, she immediately went to see Alistair with no preamble.
“What's all this about?” she demanded of Alistair, not so much as removing her armor.
“Not sure,” Alistair said. “Probably something bad.”
“Why's that?”
“The Lady Seeker herself is coming.”
They shared a grimace.
“That can't be good,” Kitranna said. “The fuck more could she want? I'm not a noble—like she wanted.” she sighed. “Well, I just fought the worst darkspawn I've ever seen, so I'm sure it won't be worse than that.”
“Speaking of which—how did that go?”
“Ugh, you should've seen it, Alistair,” Kitranna said. “A huge Broodmother, but worse--!”
“Worse?” Alistair exclaimed. “How could a Broodmother get worse?”
“Alright, so—think a human woman top, then a Broodmother bottom,” Kitranna said. “Then imagine that she could turn her mouth inside out.”
Alistair thought about that for a moment. “That is disgusting,” he proclaimed.
“Don't even get me started on the smell,” she said.
“Don't—the Lady Seeker's already here,” he said. “Anora's been keeping her busy, but she doesn't look happy. Come on.”
Alistair lead Kitranna to the large room where he and Anora held audiences. Anora was already there, along with an older woman in Seeker garb.
“Lady Seeker,” Alistair said.
Lady Nicolene rose to her feet. “Your Majesty,” she said, inclining her head. Her eyes flicked to Kitranna. “Am I to assume you are Warden-Commander Surana?”
“That's me,” Kitranna inclined her head.
“You must know it is rude to bring weapons to a peaceful meeting,” Nicolene said, indicating Kitranna's sword. Her eyes narrowed, looking it over.
“Yeah, well,” Kitranna said by way of explanation. “What's all this about? What do you want?”
“I am here to discuss a matter of extreme importance,” Nicolene said, her expression not wavering from polite neutrality.
“And what's that?”
“The influence of the Wardens and the Circle upon the Ferelden government.”
“Lambert mentioned something about that,” Alistair said, and they all sat down.
Nicolene inclined her head. “It has been a concern of ours for quite some time,” she said.
“Well, it's ridiculous,” Kitranna said. “The Wardens--” she looked at Alistair. “Alright, you got me there, there is a Warden on the throne, that doesn't look too great. But the Circle?”
“Events have unfolded in such a way we have reason to believe that the Circle and the Wardens conspired to influence the Ferelden throne,” Nicolene said.
“Wait a moment--” Alistair leaned forward.
Nicolene spoke over him. “And even if that is not the case, you, Surana, have far overreached the amount of political power it is appropriate for a mage to have.”
“Yeah?” Kitranna placed her hands on the table. “Why don't you tell us about that?” she asked. “Because last I checked, the Chantry doesn't have any authority over Wardens.”
Nicolene's expression did not waver. “Consider this. A Circle mage is recruited into the Wardens on the eve of the first true Blight in five hundred years. Immediately after she is recruited, King Cailan and the other Wardens are all killed. The only two survivors left are the mage and, conveniently, the only other heir to the throne,” she leaned forward. “Who himself was recruited several years earlier by a friend of another mage Warden from the Circle. The Warden takes it upon herself to establish alliances to end the Blight, and then successfully does so in a year, when all previous Blights had taken many years and many Wardens to end.”
Alistair and Kitranna glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes.
“When the Archdemon is killed—the only Warden casualty being a non-mage Orlesian—the sole heir to the throne is made King, a decision made by the mage Warden, who had also had influence over who inherited the throne of Orzammar not three months before. Enough influence that the Queen of Orzammar shelters a blood mage apostate from the Chantry, simply because that apostate is a friend of the Warden.”
She leaned back in her seat. “Later, that same mage Warden is declared Arlessa by the King, even though mages are forbidden from holding noble titles and Wardens are only allowed to do so by the barest of ancient laws. Later, the mage Warden recruits not only an apostate wanted by the Templars, but a Dalish apostate known for hunting and killing merchants.” she cocked one eyebrow. “All while fighting a darkspawn threat that no one has ever heard of before. Have I been misinformed in any of this?”
“The sequence of events is correct,” Anora said. “But--”
“So you understand why this may seem suspicious, at best, to the Chantry.” Nicolene said.
“Maybe if you're an idiot,” Kitranna muttered.
“Surana, don't,” Alistair muttered back.
“Lady Seeker, you must realize the unusual events of the past few years,” Anora said. “The Blight, then this business in Amaranthine--”
“Both of which are over,” Nicolene said. “According to your own reports,” she looked at Kitranna. “So you have no business influencing the Ferelden government and people in the ways that you have been doing.”
“I don't know if you're aware, but the Chantry has—no—authority—over—Wardens,” Kitranna said, as if Nicolene were dense.
Nicolene was impassive. “Incorrect. Should a mage prove to be a significant enough threat, the Chantry's authority supersedes that of the Wardens,” she saw Alistair about to open his mouth. “And of any crown. This includes Orzammar, Tevinter, and any other, smaller authorities.”
“I saved your miserable hides from the Archdemon,” Kitranna snapped, slamming a fist on the table. “None of you would be here if it weren't for me! And now you think you can just tell me what I can and can’t do?”
Nicolene did not react to Kitranna's outburst. “And do you have any proof of that claim?” she said.
“Any proof--?” Alistair exclaimed, flabbergasted. Anora looked shocked as well. “Only everyone who saw her kill the thing--”
“There are mages with the ability to control animals,” Nicolene said, not taking her eyes off of Kitranna. “No one has seen an Archdemon for hundreds of years. No one has any idea what they look like, not really except for drawings in ancient texts, most of which are hoarded by historians and Wardens. All the Wardens would have to do is find a sufficiently ill-looking high dragon, a mage able to control it, and they have a good enough ruse to fool the populace.”
“What about the darkspawn?” Anora demanded. “Lady Seeker—surely you cannot recount all that happened at Ostagar, at Denerim--!”
“Darkspawn attacks happen quite regularly,” Nicolene said. “It is my understanding that Loghain jeopardized the safety of the army at Ostagar through his own paranoia and poor battle tactics. Or am I incorrect?”
“You absolutely are incorrect,” Kitranna snarled.
“Tell, me, Commander, Which is more likely,” Nicolene said. “An Archdemon rises for the first time in hundreds of years, but is killed in under a year by two green Gray Wardens and a hastily cobbled together army, and that afterwards there are strange and powerful darkspawn never before seen or heard of by anyone, capable of killing Wardens and the Legion of the Dead alike--”
“That is more likely, because that’s what happened!” Kitranna snapped.
“Or, that the Wardens, pressured by irrelevance, and the Circle, already rebellious, allied together to concoct a scheme that would satisfy both of their needs?”
“That’s ridiculous,” Anora said.
“Then prove to me that I am wrong.”
“we don't need to--you don’t have any proof about this—mage conspiracy!” Kitranna said, slamming a hand down on the table.
“So we are at an impasse, then,” Nicolene’s expression did not change. “Your version of events is no more accurate than mine is.”
“Of course it is! Because that’s what happened!”
“You have no monopoly on the truth,” Nicolene said. “It is the Chantry that ultimately decides the truth of things, not you.”
“Lady Seeker, what exactly is it you wish us to do?” Anora asked.
“I would, in ideal circumstances, request the Commander to return to the Circle of her own free will, like Enchanter Fiona.” Nicolene said. “Any apostates she had recruited would be taken to the Circle as well.”
“What, so you can make Anders Tranquil or cut his head off?” Kitranna demanded. “So you can lock me in a cell? I don't think so.”
“We have no wish to harm you unless you force our hand,” Nicolene said. “We must think of more things than the desires of one power hungry mage.”
“Power hungry?” Kitranna surged to her feet, and Alistair put a hand on her arm.
“Lady Seeker,” Alistair said. “Your authority ends at the Crown—you cannot tell us how to run our own nation.”
“And who decided the laws of your country?” Nicolene asked. “Was it you? No, my memory misleads me. It was the Chantry who set down laws before you, who shows your line the will of the Maker, and extends to you the divine right to rule. You merely refine what we have given you.” she got to her feet. “The Seekers and the Chantry follow the law of something higher than humans or anyone else—we follow the Word of the Maker.”
“And the Maker is telling you to do this?” Anora asked.
Nicolene looked at her. She reached into a pouch on her belt and pulled out a letter in an envelope. “We have the word of the Divine Herself, allowing us to act,” she said, passing the envelope to Anora. “We have all the authority we need.”
Anora opened the envelope and scanned the contents. Her eyes went wide as she saw the seal of the Divine.
“Here are your options,” Nicolene said. “Remove all Warden influence from your government, excepting Your Majesty, as you have the blessing of the Chantry,” she nodded at Alistair. “And send any mage Wardens to the Circle. Or--” she continued, ignoring Kitranna and Alistair's outraged noises. “Continue being influenced by the Wardens and the mages, and be accused of heresy and apostasy by the Chantry.” she leaned back in her seat. “I understand this could send Ferelden into a civil war. Think on that. Your position is precarious enough as it is.”
Kitranna breathed hard through her nose. She flicked her eyes between Anora and Alistair. Alistair would try to protect her if she protested, but Anora might not.
“I'll do it,” she said finally.
Nicolene cracked her first, chilly smile. “That pleases me greatly to hear, Enchanter.”
“I need to go back to Vigil's Keep,” Kitranna growled. “Tell Anders and Velanna about this myself.”
“As you wish,” Nicolene said. “But I advise that you do not take too long.”
Kitranna growled wordlessly and shoved past Nicolene out the door.
“Oh, and—Commander?” Nicolene said lightly.
“What?”
"I would greatly appreciate it if a Templar contingent escorted you. Just to ease my mind."
Kitranna seethed, lightning crackling up and down her arms, and opened her mouth to protest, but at a look from Anora, she reconsidered. “Fine,” she snarled. “Alistair—we need to talk.”
Alistair stood up, and they were left with some privacy.
“Surana, what are you doing?” Alistair whispered to Kitranna. “Don't do anything reckless, please.”
“Reckless?” Kitranna raised an eyebrow. “Me?” she smirked. “Don't be ridiculous.”
He took her wrist. “Surana, I mean it,” he said.
She looked down at his hand on her arm. She yanked out of his hold. “If they're coming for us, they might be coming for others, too,” she said softly. “Tell Culwydd to watch her back—and the Dalish, also. Shit, maybe Shianni and the Tabrises might want to watch it.” she put her face very close to his. “You know if they're willing to do this to the Wardens, they might do it to all our other allies,” she hissed.
“I know,” Alistair hissed back. “Kitranna, we're a threat—I told you, I told you and Eamon not to crown me, nothing good would happen--”
“Don't blame this on me,” she snarled. “All I've ever done is what's needed.”
Alistair looked at her. “I don't know if that's true,” he said. “But—I'll get word to Culwydd, and see if I can't find a Dalish messenger. You—look out for yourself, alright? Be careful.”
“When am I ever not careful?” she laughed, but there was no humor in it.
She didn't speak to Anora, needing to get out of the city as fast as possible. Anora, however, managed to ensure that Kitranna and Nicolene were never in a room together alone, which was probably a good thing.
When Kitranna left Denerim, she was flanked by no less than five Templars, plate-clad, humorless, and all wearing very large swords.
Being escorted by Templars was ridiculous, but Kitranna wouldn’t be able to slip them until they were far enough from Denerim.
She hated the way they watched her, like she was back in the Tower. She tried to ignore them, and snarled if they so much as looked at her too long.
Morrigan had only taught her minimal shapeshifting. Kitranna had little capacity for it. But the shapes she did know would come in very handy.
When they were about halfway to Vigil's Keep, one night, Kitranna shapeshifted into a cloud of flies. Quiet, fast, and easy to miss. Fortunately shapeshifting worked with her clothes, so she could take her sword and armor, but nothing else.
She sped over the countryside, the shape exhausting her (so many eyes made everything look so odd), but urgency pressing her forward.
She returned to her normal shape once she was far enough away, and practically ran the entire way back to Vigil's Keep.
“The Templars are coming,” Kitranna snarled upon gathering the Wardens and Varel together.
“I knew it,” Anders growled.
“What?” Nathaniel exclaimed. “Why?”
“Not for you, maybe,” Kitranna said. “For me. For Anders. For Velanna, and probably for Justice too, if they spot him.”
“But why? Is it just Ferelden? Are they attacking other Warden strongholds?”
Kitranna nodded. “Not yet, but maybe soon,”
“What for?” Sigrun asked.
“To get the mages,” Kitranna explained. “There’s a decree from the Divine and everything. Should reach us soon. Wardens can’t have mages anymore.”
“That’s quick,” Nathaniel said.
“Well, they have more of a problem with me and Anders than mages in general,” she said. “I mean—they still don't like mages, but...'
“Well, that's just wonderful,” Anders said, throwing his hands up. “And here I thought being a Warden would help my problems—apparently not.”
“Definitely not,” Kitranna said. “And they're gonna be even more pissed than usual because I had to ditch a Templar escort to get here.”
“How'd you manage that?” Anders asked. “I've tried it loads of times. Never works.”
“Shapeshifting,” Kitranna said.
“You need to teach me that trick sometime.”
“Later. Now, we have to worry about--”
“Commander,” Varel entered the room. “Someone is here to see you.”
“Fuck,” Kitranna swore. “If it's a Templar, don't let them in--”
“She's not a Templar,” Varel said.
“Then who is she?”
“I am entirely capable of speaking for myself,” came a very familiar voice. Morrigan strode into the room, heavily pregnant and bearing a staff in one hand.
“Morrigan,” Kitranna breathed, and crossed the room to take Morrigan into her arms.
“My love,” Morrigan smiled. “I am so glad to see you.”
“I thought you weren't coming back,” Kitranna said.
“I was not. Then I heard that you needed assistance.”
“Great t'see you decided to turn up,” Oghren said.
Morrigan wrinkled her nose at him. “And how pleasant to see you have stayed exactly the same,” she said.
“Does someone want to catch us up?” Anders asked. “Who are you, exactly?”
“Oh—this is Morrigan,” Kitranna explained. “Morrigan, this is everyone.”
“How did you know of what was happening here?' Velanna asked, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“I have been paying attention, of course,” Morrigan said, raising her eyebrows. “It does not do to ignore the goings-on of such powerful entities as the Chantry.” she looked at Kitranna. “What do you wish to do about your current predicament?”
“Not sure,” Kitranna said, chewing the inside of her cheek. “We could fight them--”
“Bad idea,” Anders said immediately.
“Why?” Velanna demanded. “They have no right to us!”
“Sure they don't,” Anders agreed. “But that won't stop them. If you fight them, you'll end up fighting the entire Chantry.”
“And that will definitely not be good for Ferelden as a whole,” Nathaniel added quietly.
“Well, neither would getting rid of all the Wardens!” Sigrun said.
“They wish only the Commander, Anders, and possibly myself,” Justice pointed out. “They would likely not attack all of the Wardens.”
“Unless we fought back,” Nathaniel said with a grimace. “Then they'd have reason to attack all of us.”
“Yes.”
Kitranna closed her eyes. “We run,” she said.
“What?” Velanna demanded. “We cannot run from them!”
“Believe me, I'm ready to fight every last Templar that comes my way,” Kitranna said. “But fighting would just make things worse, for us and for Ferelden.”
“What care have I for Ferelden?” Velanna snapped.
“If there is a massive upheaval against the Chantry, they will become far more aggressive against other bodies,” Morrigan said. “Such as the Dalish.”
Velanna went pale.
“We don't have much time,” Kitranna said. “The Templars are probably a day behind me, maybe less--”
Morrigan put a hand on her arm. “There is a place we can go,” she assured her. She looked at the other Wardens. “I do not think all of them may come with, however.”
“Then where do we go?” Anders asked.
“We split up,” Kitranna said. “They want me, and they want you,” she pointed at Anders. “Splitting up will make it harder for them to find either of us.”
“But where should we go?” Anders asked again. “Listen—I have tried just about everywhere, and they always find me--”
“That’s because they have your phylactery,” Kitranna said. “Morrigan, is there anything we can do about that--?”
“It is simple blood magic,” Morrigan said. “The trail should be confused by the Taint in your blood.”
“Blood magic?” Nathaniel asked, lips pursed.
“What else did you think a vial of blood used in a tracking spell was?” Morrigan asked. “If the trail must be thrown off more, drink the blood of another. Preferably someone of another race.”
“What?” Anders squawked. “I have to kill someone--?”
“Where did I say that you must kill someone?” Morrigan rolled her eyes. “All you have to do is cut open someone's arm, or whatever body part they may prefer, and drink from that. Even a small amount of someone else's blood in your body will confuse the spell.”
“Lovely,” Anders said with a grimace.
“Effective, though,” Kitranna said. “Great—we have somewhere to run, where are they running to?”
“Perhaps Orzammar?” Varel suggested.
“We'd either have to go through the Deep Roads or right towards Orlais, where there's bound to be more Templars on the road,” Anders said. “It's always easier to head north than west.”
“The Free Marches, then,” Nathaniel said.
“Free Marches, good, you head that way, Morrigan and I will head in another direction. Start packing, we have to move,” Kitranna said. “And we have to move now.”
“Wait—where are you going to go?” Sigrun asked.
“Morrigan?” Kitranna asked.
Morrigan smiled. “There is a place I know of that is safe,” she said. “But we cannot all go, and I would not have you know it, in case you are captured.”
They scrambled to get supplies, Morrigan having already brought her own and Anders already equipped with a bag that he had just in case he'd needed to run. Finally, they all stood at the front gates. Oghren, however, was not packed.
“Listen,” Oghren said. “You need someone to keep the Templars off your back—I'm no mage, they won't give a damn about me. I'll stay here.”
“Oghren--” Kitranna started, then clapped him on the shoulder. “Give one a black eye for me, hey?”
“Sure thing,” Oghren said.
“Are you sure?” Anders asked.
“I'll be fine,” Oghren assured him. “Don't much feel like goin' to the Free Marches anyway.”
“Alright,” Kitranna said. “Let's get out of here,” she clasped Anders' forearm and gave Sigrun a one-armed hug, then nodded to everyone else. “Be careful,” she said. “And good luck.”
“Hurry, now,” Morrigan said. Kitranna climbed up on Morrigan's horse, and they swiftly rode away.
Sigrun took Velanna's hand. “Come on,” she said to the others. “Let's get out of here.” Velanna helped Sigrun onto their own horse, and Anders helped Nathaniel onto theirs. Justice had no need of a horse, as on foot he was as fast as one and did not tire.
“No fear there,” Anders said. “I was ready to go hours ago.”
“Let us leave,” Velanna said. “And quickly!”
They urged their horses forward, north, towards whatever lay in the Free Marches.
The Templars arrived a bare three hours after the Wardens had left, all utterly furious.
“We demand to see the Warden-Commander!” one of them shouted at the gate.
“She ain't here!” Oghren called from the wall surrounding the Keep. “On her honeymoon! So piss off!”
“This is ridiculous,” the Templar muttered. “Open the gate!” he shouted.
The gate creaked open, and the Templars stepped inside.
“There's no need for this display,” Varel said with a scowl, coming to greet them.
“Where is the Commander?” the Templar demanded. “That dwarf said she was not here--”
“She had a most urgent errand,” Varel said. “A situation arose in the Deep Roads. I can point you to the entrance she took, if you like.”
“The Deep Roads?" the Templars looked at each other. “She must be heading for Orzammar,” one of them growled. “What of the other Wardens?”
“As you can see, Warden Oghren is right here,” Varel gestured to Oghren, who gave a little wave.
“Not him,” the Templar snapped. “The mages.”
“They have gone to deal with the same situation,” Varel said. “They are no longer here.”
“What possible situation could have come up?” the Templar demanded. “Surana was with us not a day ago! She gave us the slip!”
“I presume her reasons were good ones,” Varel said. “Wardens, after all, can sense the Taint. Perhaps she could feel something in the Deep Roads and wished to spare your lives.”
“Yeah,” Oghren growled. “It's not like you're exactly equipped to go explorin', are you?'
“I've had enough of this,” the Templar snarled. “Where is she?”
“Not. Here.” Varel said. “I don't know how much clearer I can be.”
The Templars searched vigil's keep from top to bottom, but of course Kitranna and the others were long gone. They even searched the tunnels under the Keep, but there was no sign of them.
Oghren did indeed give one of the Templars a black eye. Outraged, they would have arrested him, but Templars had little authority over non-mages and even less over dwarves.
Eventually they left, sending a report back to the Grand Cathedral, fully prepared to hunt Kitranna and the others down.
“So. The Warden-Commander is gone.”
Lambert nodded, a scowl on his face. “It appears so, Lady Seeker.”
Nicolene sighed and leaned back in her chair, frowning. “I thought for sure she would not run,” she said.
“Did you truly think that?” Lambert asked, raising an eyebrow.
“She was conscious of the plight of her fellows,” Nicolene said. “Concerned for their well-being, or at least she appeared to be. She doubtless knows that her fellows will suffer for this—or at least, they believe they will be suffering.”
“I do not believe she truly cares,” Lambert said. “I have known her sort before. They are not the caring kind. We must continue to find her, Lady Seeker.”
“And why is that?”
“She may continue to be a threat,” Lambert said. “Consider if she gains asylum from Queen Aeducan, as it is very likely she would—Queen Aeducan was only put on her throne because of Surana, she could easily influence her.”
“And thus affect the lyrium trade, at best,” Nicolene nodded. “At worst...”
“If she had the inclination, it is quite possible she could cripple the lyrium trade,” Lambert said.
“Dealing a heavy blow against the Templars and enabling even more apostates,” Nicolene nodded. “And if she is not heading for Orzammar?”
“Then we have no real idea of where she might be, and that makes her more dangerous.”
“Mm,” Nicolene nodded in agreement. “It certainly does. What of her phylactery, and that of Anders?”
“Wardens are difficult to track with phylacteries,” Lambert said. “And they seem to have found some way of confusing the spell. They are not reliable tools.”
“I see.” Nicolene leaned forward in her chair. “The Clerics would believe that she is no longer a threat,” she said. “That the Wardens are telling the whole truth, and that we are overreacting.”
“This is no overreaction, Lady Seeker.”
“We both know that, Lambert. But they do not. So. What are we to do about it?”
Lambert was quiet for a long moment. “Divine Beatrix will not live for much longer,” he said. “The next Divine who is appointed must be someone we approve of.”
Nicolene leaned forward, a gleam in her eye. “Absolutely,” she said. “Now. Who are you thinking of?”
Cassandra heard every word.
Very quietly, she moved away from the door. Her head spun. The Lady Seeker spoke of influencing the Clerics and even the appointment of the Divine—illegal at best, heresy at worst. This made no sense—but on the other hand, it did. Nicolene's logic was sound, cold and calculating, not the reasoning of a madwoman.
But Cassandra would never go against the Divine, nor could she subvert the Chantry so blatantly.
Something had to be done.
That evening, she sent a message to the Nightingale.
She hoped it would be enough.