From the Ashes: Glimmers of Flame (ch. 23) (Patreon)

“Fuck me,” I moaned, really wishing that I could remain asleep, but my brain wouldn’t turn off the moment everything clicked into place for me to wake up. I was on a rough hay bed and the cloth over it was itchy, so was the blanket that covered me. Those were far more distance concerns because I’m pretty sure that I was naked and my last memory was falling face into some muck. Unless the darkspawn decided to strip me and tuck me in, I clearly wasn’t with them. Meaning that I could sleep in if my brain would let me.

“T’is a tempting offer, but I fear your body is not up to coupling,” I heard a familiar voice remark, making me open my eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. It was rough wood that was sealed with wood resin. Looking over, I saw Morrigan looming over me, a smirk playing at the edges of her lips as she looked down at me. “At long last, you rejoin the living.”

My gaze drifted from her to our surroundings. It was… a hovel, to be kind. Two beds, of which I was occupying one of them, a small stone hearth with a black pot hovering over a small fire. The floor was made of dirt, the walls of rough wood, and bundles of herbs and tokens hung from the ceiling. “So, I’m alive. Honestly didn’t see that coming. I have you to thank for that, I think,” I remarked, pushing myself into a sitting position. I glanced at my shoulder, seeing nothing but pale smooth skin, the same for my other wounds.

“You do,” Morrigan responded, her blunt. “I found you carrying that fool surrounded by darkspawn, in case you have forgotten. Failing that, you would have drowned yourself in mud. You’ve been asleep for three days -- ironically, t’was you that was the most injured in your pursuit of saving others. Let that be a lesson to you.”

“Speaking of that fool, he is still alive right?” I questioned, peaking under the covers to see that I was very much naked. “And I don’t suppose you happen to have a pair of trousers for me?”

“He is,” Morrigan turned up her nose at the mere mention of Theron. Good. Fuck that guy. “So is that oaf that mother brought. He’s been alternating between resolve and weeping -- t’is most infuriating, his indecisiveness.” Morrigan griped, revealing my clothing and armor. I grabbed them and I noticed that Morrigan did not turn around.

She tilted her head, watching me and expected me to squirm. She was disappointed on that account. I spent most of the past two years in a brothel. She watched me get dressed while I processed what I heard -- it sounded like both Alistair and Theron were fine. I saw my pack was laying with my clothing, but, oddly, I didn’t see Keening Blade anywhere even if I did see Fang. While I got dressed, I made an observation, “Your mother. The dragon.”

“Indeed,” Morrigan agreed as I slid my boots on and began fastening the armor plates. Sliding Fang into its sheath, I stood up to find that Morrigan and I were of even height at 5’7. There was amusement in her gaze as she regarded me. “You possess little modesty, I see.”

“I don’t have much to be modest about,” I responded, fastening the last the last buckle. The armor had taken a bad hit. My gaze lingered on Morrigan for a moment, watching her watch me before my fingers twitched, the magic eagerly responding to my will as I cast Mending on my armor. The metal plates shifted back into place, the fabric rewove itself.

Her eyes sparkled with delight, “A fine spell,” she noted. “Given your stature as a Street King, I take it you were not beaten and whelped in the Circles?” She asked, her gaze flickering down to the scar across my throat.

I gave her a smile sharp enough to cut, “I was not. I’m an apostate. Was an apostate. I joined the Wardens to be able to use my magic more freely, but it seems that I got more than what I bargained for there.” I said, casting Rejuvenation upon myself, mostly out of habit. It was the first time I woke up feeling any degree of refreshed. I guess sleeping for a couple of days would do that.

“I would imagine so,” Morrigan decided, offering a small nod. “The others are waiting for you. I suggest you speak with them before the oaf decides to start weeping again.” She decided, gesturing for me to step through the door, and I did so. Like I thought, we were at the old woman’s hovel.

The sound of the rusty hinges screaming caught the attention of Alistair and Theron. As well as the old woman who, curiously, held Keening Blade. Alistair perked right up, "You're awake! Thank the Maker, I wasn't sure if you ever would," Alistair said, walking over and giving me a bear hug. I think he forgot that he didn't like me overly much.

"From the sounds of it, the two of you have been up for awhile," I remarked, my gaze sliding to Theron, who wore an incredibly guilty expression.

Alistair, thankfully, let go of me. "We have. Theron woke up first two days ago, me a day ago, and now you. What happened after I took that hit? Morrigan's mother just said that you went back for Theron and the treaties. And that Loghain quit the field," he questioned and I heard hot anger in his voice.

My gaze flickered to Morrigan's mother, who wore a delighted smile on her face that honestly made me want to run for the hills. And I think she smelled the fear on me. "We gave the signal, but the Archdemon outplayed us. Badly. There were tens of thousands of darkspawn on the field. And Calian charged. The entire thing was a sodding mess, Alistair. Loghain quitting the field probably means Ferelden still has an army."

That, I quickly saw, was not what Alistair wanted to hear. I guess he wanted me to say how awful and cowardly Loghain was for abandoning the king. "He left us to die! He left Duncan to die! We did our part despite a whole tower of darkspawn and he abandoned us!" Alistair shouted, his eyes blazing with anger and loss.

"I also saw that the anvil was trying to do a fighting retreat. Not sure if they made it or not," I continued, deciding to not poke the very sore nerve. As far as I could tell, Alistair decided on the narrative he believed. I don't think I could convince him otherwise even if I wanted to. I saw an expression of hope on his face before I looked at Morrigan's mother, who simply smiled at me.

"Your king is dead," She informed. "Loghain betrayed Maric a final time, good intentions or ill. Your Warden Commander is also slain, young Warden. A very small portion of the army managed to break away. I believe they are in Lothering," she informed, making Alistair's face twist into a scowl.

"You don't know that. Duncan could still be alive," Alistair spoke, clearly hoping that were true. He was being cruel to himself, I decided. There were few things more painful than false hope.

"Dead or not, we need to do something about the Blight. It was contained at Ostagar and the Wilds, but without the army offering a distraction, they're going to be spilling out all over Ferelden," I stated, focusing on the matter at hand. "The South is probably going to be fucked -- Western Hills, South Reach, and Stenhold. Gwaren too, now that I think about it. We have Arl Howe flaffing about in Highever. Do we know what the horde is doing now?"

"Pillaging the remnants of the army at Ostagar," Theron answered, crossing his arms over his chest. "Taking arms and armaments. We won't be facing naked spawn anymore, I suspect."

"We made a mistake thinking that it was some dumb beast with whatever intelligence it might have had scrambled by the taint. It's smart. It drew the army down south, let us build up our numbers a bit, before soundly putting its boot straight up our arses," I voiced, making Alistair blanch. "We can't afford to underestimate it again. Not if we're going to kill the bastard."

That got a laugh out of Morrigan's mother, who sounded absolutely delighted. "Such conviction. I see that I will not have to convince you to take heart in your quest," she mused, her eyes twinkling with mirth. I didn't like it. At all.

"Yeah… well… the Blight is a threat to the world, and I'm living in it. It's self interest," I deflected.

"As was sprinting through a horde of darkspawn to rescue a fellow Warden," the old woman remarked, making Theron flinch. He looked thoroughly ashamed of himself, and suddenly found the ground incredibly interesting.

"I sprinted through a horde of darkspawn for these," I deflected again, reaching into my pack and pulling out the chest. Alistair's eyes lit up when he saw it.

"You have Duncan's chest! In your bag?" He questioned, as if only just now realizing that was weird.

"Don't worry about that," I instructed, popping the chest open to reveal the treaties. "The Dwarves of Orzammar, the Circle of Magi, and the Dalish are treaty bound to help us in time of a Blight. Between my Rabbits, and my connections with the Mage Collective and Avvar, I say we have a shot at defeating the Blight," I said, snapping the chest closed and shoving it back into my bag. Alistair was giving me an odd look but gratitude was shining in his eyes.

Theron still looked to the ground with a frown on his face, "It won't be that simple."

"It never is but the shit has reached the ceiling and we have to pick up the shovels," I spoke, offering a small shrug. "It is what it is. Would have been nice if we didn't have to run around the country and building up an army, but we do."

"You have contacts with the avvar?" Alistair questioned before he narrowed his eyes at me. "And how big exactly is your gang?"

"Don't worry about it," I refused to answer.

"You keep saying that about things I think I should be worried about. You're apparently a mage -- didn't see that coming, by the way -- you have a magic bag, and your friends with the avvar while running a race gang that's apparently so big that you said it with the same breath as the dwarven kingdom, the Dalish clans, and the avvar tribes. Do you ever sleep?"

"On the occasion," I responded, refusing to give a straight answer. I didn't begrudge him his questions -- honestly, he seemed to be taking it rather well. Despite being the senior Warden, he seemed content to follow my lead and Theron wasn't protesting. Meaning that I was once again in charge and I was glad for it. There was no time to waste on lamenting my position or the losses we incurred. Sure, it would be nice if Duncan was here to hold my hand through this mountain of shit that fell on my plate, but he was probably dead.

He was dead and I wasn't. The world needed saving… so, all I had to do was save it.

That's all there was to it, no matter how complicated or simple it might be.

"Right. Don't tell me then," Alistair sighed. "In that case, we can add Redcliff to the list. He's well liked by the Bann and his forces weren't at Ostagar. If we go to him, he'll help us with the Blight. And dealing with Loghain," he added his tone bitter. "And no. I won't tell you how I know him. At least not until you give that Avvar story. It sounds interesting."

Our course was set, it seemed. We just had to unite the country and a deeply divided number of factions against a common enemy that wanted us all dead.

I turned to Morrigan's mother, who offered me Keening Blade, "This weapon once belonged to a very old friend of mine," she remarked, making my blood turn to ice. "And I'm quite curious at how one who spurns the past funds himself embracing what it offers so easily."

With that remark, the fact she could turn into a dragon suddenly became the least terrifying thing about her. All the same, I didn't flinch, "I killed him after your old friend tried to kill me. Looted his home and found some interesting things. And I embrace it with a healthy dose of practicality with a splash of hypocrisy," I spoke, taking Keening Blade from her. I expected some kind of anger from her, instead, she simply seemed bemused.

"Self awareness. How rare of a trait," she observed as I slid Keening Blade into its sheath. "It seems you all have something to contribute in this quest, but allow me to offer one last piece of assistance -- my daughter, Morrigan," the old woman said, making all eyes turn to her as she left the hovel, seemingly unaware of her volunteering to fight the Blight.

"I've set the stew over the fire. Now, shall we have three guests, or none?" She questioned, her tone making it clear what she would prefer.

"Neither -- you will be leaving with them, girl," the old woman stated.

"Such a shame- what?" Morrigan started, her tone sarcastic, only to whip around on her mother with wide eyes. "You- you are casting me out?" She protested, sounding shocked.

The old woman laughed, "You have desired to leave for years, my daughter, yet you never took that final step. Consider this a push from the nest so you may spread your wings at last." She stated, her tone sharp but not entirely unkind as Morrigan seemed to wilt ever so slightly at the rebuke. Her gaze slid to us, "I am giving you my daughter to aid you in your quest but she is my daughter. I will have her cared for."

I caught what wasn't said. The 'or else.' "I can't say she won't be in danger, but we'll do everything in our power to make sure she's protected from the worst of it." I told her, knowing that it'd be the height of stupidity to say that she would be safe.

"That is as good of a promise you could have given," the old woman told me.

"Very well then. Allow me to gather my things," Morrigan started, her tone frosty as she returned to the hovel. Alistair looked between her, her mother, then me. Theron simply watched Morrigan's mother with cautiousness, much like one would a coiled snake.

"I know we're in need of all the help we can get, but…" he trailed off, his gaze sliding to the old woman, who tilted her head, as if curious to what he had to say. "Nevermind."

Morrigan packed light because it seemed because it only took her a few minutes to gather her worldly possessions in a small bag. "I am off, Mother. Do not burn the house down while I'm out."

The old woman scoffed, "You're more likely to find me dead along with everything else in the Wilds unless you succeed."

"I only meant…" Morrigan trailed off, her expression tightening.

"I know, dear. Do try to have some fun while you're away," her mother said in place of a farewell.

And, with that, we were off on a quest to save the world.

I seriously never should have become a Grey Warden.

…

"You saved me," Theron spoke the words as an accusation as we traveled, escaping the outermost edge of the wilds, going the long way around Ostagar. We encountered a few bands of darkspawn, but nothing too dangerous. "At great risk to yourself," he added, narrowing his eyes at me.

"Yeah, well, don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain," I said, not looking at him as we traveled. It was nice to have solid ground underfoot again instead of the muck of the swamp. That reputation in question being an utterly ruthless bastard that was capable of anything. "If it makes you feel any better, I also did it to save my pack. And because I knew it would annoy you."

Theron looked like he bit into something sour, telling me that it did annoy him. That was nice. Silver lining to this whole mess. "I'm sorry, Azoth," Theron spoke, his tone quiet, but the words were genuine. His expression was a mask of shame and remorse. "For my part in forcing you to leave the Dalish. I didn't understand then. I thought for all your talk of hating shemlen, you ran back to them with your tail between your legs."

A sigh escaped him, "I thought you a coward and I have for years. I was mistaken. For that, I apologize," he uttered, bowing his head to me.

I scowled at the apology, the bitter disappointment I felt with the Dalish hadn't faded. "I don't want your apology, Theron. I saved you for my sake. Nothing more or less. Let that be the end of it," I told him and he seemed to take the hint, glad that I wasn't calling in some blood debt or something. I saved him because I would have felt like shite if I just left him to die. I didn't like Theron years ago, and I liked him less now. Just not enough to leave him to die. Nor did it mean we were suddenly going to become friends if I had anything to say about it.

He fell back, the apology issued, and he was leaving that to be the end of it.

We continued on, heading north to the Imperial Highway, and towards Lothering. Once we were on the main road, I could see smoke was still drifting upwards from Ostagar. The battle had been a lesson, that was for certain. And, the closer we neared to Lothering, the more nervous I became about how close it was to Ostagar. On the Imperial Highway, it was only about a two day journey. During that time, Alistair remained sullen and Morrigan purposely kept her distance. Which was fair. We were three armed men traveling alone with a single woman. Couldn't blame her for being cautious.

As we approached the village of Lothering, I saw that the broken bridge that was meant to go over the valley it was located in was guarded by soldiers. All of them were wearing heavy armor and carrying weapons. They saw us coming from a long way off and waved us over with smiles on their faces. "Ho there Grey Wardens! We thought we lost you all in Ostagar," a soldier stepped forward.

I did as well, "You nearly did." I spoke, thinking what he said didn't bode well for Duncan. Alistair stiffened, realizing that as well. "Are you with the army?"

"What's left of it after Loghain left us to die," the lead soldier spat, an ugly expression crossing his face that could best be described as vengeful. "If it wasn't for Lady Cousland rallying us after… after the King perished, we would have all been goners. I think she would want to meet you two, if you would follow us to the Chantry," the soldier requested.

He seemed open and friendly. Didn't mean he wasn't planning on betraying us, but I didn't give it good odds that he was. For that reason, I nodded and decided to follow him into Lothering properly. Around the perimeter were refugees, I noticed -- the camp followers that had managed to escape as well as villagers and townsfolk that were displaced by the horde and forced to travel north. Lothering was a natural stop given that it was on the Imperial Highway. However, I didn't see too many elves among them and that made me nervous.

The rest of the city looked like it was dealing with the fact three times as many people than normal were living here. Most of which were without camping supplies. The air in the village could best be described as utterly fucking miserable with a fair number of people crying out or whimpering in pain. As we walked through the dirt road, I saw a number of people sporting signs of blight sickness. I could feel it in them, I realized. A slight draw in their direction, like I felt with the darkspawn.

"A Chantry. An interesting choice," Morrigan remarked, but made no effort to explain the opinion as we entered. Inside, I saw that it was packed with people, but mostly soldiers and Templars. Behind the altar I saw Elissa Cousland, who looked like she hadn't slept at all in the past three days. Dark bags were under her eyes as she poured herself over a book on the altar, her brow furrowed deeply. As we entered, we garnered a fair bit of attention, and the sound of it made her look up.

She blinked in surprise before a smile graced her lips, "Azoth! Alistair! Theron -- you're all alive," she exclaimed, standing straight.

"I think I should be saying that to you," I responded as I approached, taking more of the people around her. One was a man with a neatly groomed black beard with a long black hair pulled into a ponytail. He wore fine armor made of the same material that Elissa’s was. He looked every bit as tired as she did. “The little I saw of the battle… I saw a fighting retreat, but I didn’t think you’d make it out.”

Elissa grimaced, “Most of us didn’t.” Her tone was like steel and her eyes burned like fire. “Five hundred of the three thousand escaped. I’m expecting another hundred to die of blight sickness. Unless the tales are true and Grey Wardens can cure it?”

I shook my head, thinking on the Joining ritual. “It may be possible, but I don’t know how to pull it off.” Her eyes narrowed, getting the hint that the Joining was more involved than swearing some oaths.

“Duncan,” Alistair blurted so suddenly I thought he saw him. Alistair took a step forward, his face pleading, “Duncan would know. Is… he…?” He trailed off, seemingly unable to voice it.

Elissa gave him a sad look, but from what I saw in her expression, she was rapidly getting used to delivering bad news. “He died a noble death, Alistair. He avenged the King after he was slain by an ogre. He fell not long after. I’m sorry,” Elissa told him and Alistair just seemed to… crumble.

“Oh…” Alistair trailed off, taking a step back, and seemed like he was carrying an incredible weight.

So, the king was dead. As was Duncan. The old woman may have just guessed… but she already seemed to know far too much. “What went wrong with the battle? I saw Calian leading a charge?” I questioned, making Elissa grimace and the man next to her scowl.

“The trebuchets changed things,” Elissa stated with patience. “You would know better than I, but the king was under the impression that darkspawn were too simple to operate siege engines. Or build them. Staying in position would have meant we would be under bombardment and that would have been a death sentence given our few numbers and the relentless charge of the darkspawn.” I could see that.

I saw it through the archers. Tore a hole right through the line a dozen thick and kept going off the bridge. If that happened to an infantry wall, then a huge hole in the line would have opened. Darkspawn would have poured in, uncaring of the losses, and the anvil would have broken apart.

“King Calian realized that trebuchets needed to be adjusted for range, so he decided to charge to take the bulk of the army out of area that the trebuchets were primed to fire,” Elissa spoke, and I heard a few muttered prayers and praising the deceased king for his bravery. It sounded very nice, I thought. However… if that was the case… wouldn’t it be just as simple to retreat further back? The army had been positioned under the bridge in a small valley. Retreating would have had the same effect.

I chose to say nothing, letting Elissa continue, “We saw the beacon being lite. As well as Senior Enchanter Uldred giving the signal not long after. However, Loghain proved himself to be a coward. He left us to die on the field! He abandoned his king!” She thundered, slamming a fist upon the altar.

I chose not to offer my thoughts in this case. Elissa, and the five hundred that managed to escape the battle… they felt betrayed. They felt like they were left to die. And they were. Telling them that Loghain had good reason to wouldn’t make them suddenly feel better about being left to die at the hands of monsters.

The man next to Elissa spoke up, “Teyrn Loghain received your message, Ser Azoth.”

I quirked an eyebrow, “How do you know that?” I asked him, but it was Elissa that explained.

“Ser Hawkthorne was with Loghain’s army. He chose to charge into the darkspawn horde to save his king,” Elissa spoke, looking at Hawkthorne with a sense of adoration. She clearly thought highly of him.

The man’s face showed a profound sadness and regret, “Regrettably, I failed all the same.”

“You tried. Which is more than everyone else on that hill can claim to do,” Elissa spoke, her mind made up about Loghain, much like Alistair. She looked back to me, “With the king dead, I suspect that Loghain will declare a regency with him as Regent.”

That caught Alistair’s attention, “But, what about Queen Anora? She’s is-... was Calian’s wife, so shouldn’t she…?” He trailed off when Elissa shook her head.

“Queen Anora is the Queen Consort, now the Queen Dowager. King Calian would have made her the Crown Matrimonial, in which case she would reign as Queen despite having no heirs. However, because Calian left no children, and unless Queen Anora begins to show in the coming months, there will need to be a Landsmeet to decide who will be the next King. In the meantime, given the Blight, a Regent must be named and Loghain won’t allow anyone else to be it save for himself,” she explained. It sounded complicated, but it was simple enough.

In short? Loghain was about to seize the reigns to the country for its own good.

“And I,” Elissa spoke, her gaze hard, “refuse to hand this country over to a traitor. He abandoned his king in his hour of need. That is high treason,” Elissa spoke gravely, and she sounded like she meant it. However, I had doubts. She had the same look that she did when she spoke of Howe -- the burning hate. Given that she was still alive and whole, it seemed a bit much that she would hate Loghain as much as the man who murdered her family.

“Good,” Alistair spoke up, giving her a nod and I could rapidly see an issue approaching.

“It's a Blight. Is this really the best time for a civil war?” I questioned because, apparently, no one else was willing to.

"There’s never a good time for a civil war, but in this case, it is unavoidable. For all the part he played in liberating Ferelden, Loghain is of common blood. His ascension to a Teyrn is still something the nobility find distasteful. As regent, given the circumstances, that distaste will lead to outright rebellion. More so if he tries to crown himself king of Ferelden," Elissa continued. Maybe that was true, but I hadn't really seen it.

When it came to strategy, everyone looked to Loghain. Not because he was a Teyrn, but because he was the Hero of River Dale.

"The blood of Calenhad has ruled over Ferelden since there has been a Ferelden. That line has been extinguished with King Callian's death, meaning there is no clear successor." Elissa spoke and I saw where this was going even as Alistair fidgited.

"Unless you give them one," I remarked idly, earning a sharp smirk from Elissa. She was making a bid for Queen.

"I'm a Cousland. My father refused the throne after King Maric died so King Callian could rule, but now he is dead. My family has always been the second in Ferelden, behind only the Theirns. My name is one that the banns of Ferelden will rally behind," she stated, sounding confident. And I could see it. Elissa had managed to rally the troops in the face of the darkspawn horde after the kings death. As far as tirals by fire went, that was about as intense as you could get. The fact that she managed to get five hundred people out was a tesetimate to her ability as a leader.

I didn’t really know how it would shake out, I decided. I didn’t blame Loghain for abandoning us. I would have done the same thing in his shoes -- sacrifice the few to save the many. I’ve done it since the start of the Rabbits. Loghain was a tried and tested commander and a hero to Ferelden and his challenger would be a newly tested commander that had a very old and respected name while Loghain was a commoner. It wasn’t easy to guess what sides people would be picking.

“Makes no difference to me,” I decided, giving her a nod. “If its unavoidable, then its unavoidable.”

“I’m glad I can count on your support,” Elissa replied wirly, likely picking up on the fact that I didn’t harbor Loghain any ill will despite our situation. “Your Rabbits are based outside of Lothering to make room for my troops. Will you march with us?” She asked and I decided to swallow a retort about forcing my people to live outside of the village for the sake of humans. I guess that was why I didn’t see any of them on the streets.

“I care nothing about your shemlen throne,” Theron spoke up, feeling similarly slighted. “We have our own mission to complete.”

Elissa narrowed her eyes at him before they flickered to me. I sighed, “Do you have a map?” I asked her, and while it was bring brought over, I outlined our plan in as simple of terms as possible. She seemed enraptured with the idea and, if I had to guess, she was looking for ways to use those armies to be used against Loghain. And Howe.

The map that was brought out was fairly detailed that offered defined lines for the imperial highway, lines indicating rivers, and the borders of Bannorn and Arldoms. Theron stepped forward, looking down at the map.

“We should go to the Dalish first,” he decided, pointing at the Tiger forest. “Before I was tainted, many of the clans within decided it would be best to leave Ferelden. If we do not reach them soon, then we will not find them at all,” Theron stated and part of me wanted to dismiss it out of hand. Of course the Dalish were planning to pull a runner. It was all they were good for.

However, I forced myself to swallow my retort because he did have a point. “The Circle and Orzammar won’t be going anywhere,” I admitted. “However, I need to get to Denerim to organize the Rabbits,” I told him, making Theron’s expression tighten.

“Could Theron not go to the Dalish himself?” Elissa questioned, and it was a decent suggestion but I thought it would be a bad idea. Like Elissa, Theron had been conscripted out of necessity. He became a Grey Warden to save his own life, and now that he had been saved… if he went to the Dalish alone, I had little doubt that he would simply leave with them. He had no real reason to stay, after all.

“Given that we’re the last three Grey Wardens left, I think its a bad idea for us to separate,” Alistair voiced, making Theron scowl ever so slightly, not exactly hiding the fact that he had seen it as an opportunity to run. He still might, to be honest.

I tapped a finger on Lothering, then drew a line to Redcliff. “We’ll go to Redcliff first,” I decided, looking up to Elissa. “You’ll probably want to join us there. According to Alistair, Arl Eammon won’t stand for what Loghain’s done. From there, we’ll double back to the Tiger forest, head up to Denerim, then loop around to the Circle and Orzammar,” I dedicated, drawing a line with my finger as I raced the route. We would lose a few days going to Redcliff, but it would be worth it.

I needed to meet the Arl first and foremost. I couldn’t just take Alistair's word for it. The entire journey, provided that the weather didn’t turn on us, would take around two or three months. Less if we stuck to the highway and didn’t deviate from the path. Alistiar nodded, instantly agreeing with the idea since we were going straight to Redcliff. Theron seemed mollified that we would be going to the Dalish relatively soon.

My gaze went to Morrigan to see her quirking up an eyebrow, seemingly pleased that I was looking to her for her opinion. “T’is as fine as plan as any, I suppose,” she decided, making it clear she didn’t care one way or the other.

“I intend to spend the next few days here -- Lothering is the natural gathering point for those fleeing the Blight. We’ll gather the refugees before we head to Redcliff,” Elissa informed, offering me a nod. “It sounds like you have your own plans. I shall leave you to it,” Elissa said, and I heard the dismissal in her voice as she turned her attention back to the map.

Interesting. This certainly hadn’t turned out how I expected. In addition to a Blight, we were dealing with a civil war. The timing was piss poor, but there was a silver lining -- it would weaken the Ferelden crown for when the time came.

“We live in interesting times,” I muttered, leaving the Chantry and turning my gaze up to the sky. There was a lot to do and not a whole lot of time to do it. I needed to concentrate my Rabbits -- get them out of the South and into the north because the flood of refugees would cause problems for our grip on cities like Amaranthine and Denerim. Not to mention gathering armies to face the Blight. And dealing with a possible Orlesian invasion.

And, speaking of Orleasians, I heard a fairly thick Orlesian accent speak up as I lowered my gaze, even if the voice itself was soft and musical. “You are the Grey Wardens, are you not?” I heard, making me glance over at the Laysister that followed us out of the Chantry. She was pretty with vibrant red hair and shockingly blue eyes, standing straight while most of her body was covered with dull white and red robes.

“That we are,” I confirmed with a nod, wondering what this was about. The Orlesain woman smiled brightly at that.

“That is a relief! I had heard that your noble order had been all slain at Ostagar, but I knew some would still live,” the woman said, offering a curtsy, “I am Leliana, and I would like to join you in your noble quest to combat the Blight.”

Alistair spoke up while Theron’s lips curled in distaste, “I’m not so sure thats a good idea. Where we’re going, there’s going to be a lot of fighting,” he informed her.

Leliana nodded in response, “I know. I was not always a lay sister, Serah. I can take care of myself and I must go with you. The Maker instructed me so.”

“Er-” Alistair started, his mouth opening to respond, but he discovered he had nothing to say. He looked to me, obviously expecting me to pick up because I suspected neither Theron nor Morrigan were an Andrastian.

I took in a deep breath and let it out.

“We live in interesting times indeed.”