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Chapter Forty-One: Denerim Ho!

"After that, we can split up into groups to accomplish our tasks," Aedan continued. "We need to check in with Brother Genitivi, deal with Marjolaine, maybe find some work to make a bit of coin, and Sierra wants to talk to a dwarf in the market district. Did I miss anything?" He looked around expectantly. No one spoke. He nodded. "Alright. I'd rather not come to Loghain's attention, if we can avoid it. Helmets for everyone at all times. Be careful! Now let's eat, and then get some sleep. We leave at first light."

Leliana and Zevran started bickering good-naturedly about what we were going to have for supper. I thought to help, but realised I had a couple of things I needed to ask Aedan before we got to Denerim, just in case.

"Hey Aedan?"

"Yes, little sister?" He came over and plopped next to me, smiling tiredly.

"Little? Who says I'm little? For all you know, I'm your older sister."

"No way am I being the youngest of three! You're the baby, and that's official."

I looked at him and mock-glared. "Well you certainly act like the middle child, I'll give you that."

Alistair, watching the banter, looked confused. "How do middle children act?"

I sighed. "You know, jokes aren't funny when you have to explain them. On Earth, there's a bunch of people who love to blame all their problems in life on being the middle child. Just...never mind." I shook my head. "Anyway, I have some questions for you, Aedan."

Aedan grinned. "What's that thing you say? Oh yeah. Hit me."

I giggled, and punched him on the arm hard, making him wince and complain. Alistair guffawed and fell backwards, overbalanced in his heavy armour. This set off laughter all around the camp as Alistair flailed around on his back, legs askew, cursing indignantly while we laughed. Aedan rubbed his arm ruefully, and gave me a dirty look which I ignored because he couldn't hold it without his lips curling up into a grin. He finally gave up and joined in the laughter, then shuffled over to help me pull Alistair back upright. Once the hilarity had settled, I faced him again.

"Seriously, now. I need to know what you know about Dwarven nobility."

"What do you mean? From what you've said, you probably know more than I do."

I stammered slightly, trying to think of a way to explain my dilemma without admitting that on Earth their lives were actually a

game

. They'd accepted the concept of a theatre performance, but I worried what they'd think if they knew just how it was treated.

"I...alright, so, in the performance, they show some of the things that are happening in other parts of Ferelden around the same time you met Duncan, Aedan. The thing is, I don't know how much of that is true, and how much might have been fabricated to fill out the details in the story. I know some of it is true -- it's how I knew Solona was in trouble in the Circle, for example -- but I don't know if they got the details correct."

His eyes were narrowed, his expression somewhat skeptical, but he didn't say anything. I knew that he knew I was hiding something. I hoped he'd let it go. Finally he nodded.

"What do you need to know?"

"Alright, first...tell me, what are the names of King Endrin's children? Do you know?"

Aedan scratched at his stubble irritably, face screwed up in concentration. "I don't...the eldest is Trian, I remember that. And I think he had a sister and a brother, but I can't remember their names."

"Sereda and Bhelen." Leliana walked over and sank gracefully to the ground across from us. "Bhelen is the youngest."

I looked at her curiously, but she merely shrugged. "Bard, remember? Politics are quite important in my line of work."

I grinned at her. "Thanks. And in all your political knowledge, I don't suppose you'd know what Sereda's general outlook was like? What sort of person -- er, dwarf -- she was?"

"Not really, no. Though I heard a rumour once that she had a paramour from the Warrior Caste. Quite the scandal."

I laughed. "Leliana, I love you, you know that, right?" She looked shocked and pleased. "That's exactly what I needed to know. Listen, this dwarf I want to talk to? He's the warrior she was involved with."

Aedan interrupted. "You keep saying 'was'. I remember you telling me about a conflict over the dwarven throne, but is Sereda involved?"

I shook my head. "She's dead, I expect. Let me start at the beginning. Endrin had three children. Trian was expected to be the heir, but he was unpopular. Too snobbish, not diplomatic enough, too full of himself. Some of the Deshyrs -- the dwarven equivalent of a Landsmeet -- were muttering about putting Sereda on the throne instead, making Trian paranoid that she was trying to steal his crown. The youngest, Bhelen, took the opportunity to pit the two of them against each other, killing Trian and framing Sereda for it. Which, of course, neatly cleared the path for himself to take the throne. Sereda was sent into the Deep Roads alone to die, and her second, Gorim, was exiled and became a merchant.

"Unfortunately for Bhelen, Endrin figured it out before he died. There's even a rumour that Bhelen poisoned his father to hurry things along. Either way, before he died, Endrin named another noble to be his heir, once he realised what Bhelen had done. Now there's a fight between that noble, a Lord Harrowmont, and Bhelen. When we get there, you're going to get to choose who becomes King, eventually. The problem is, you've got two crappy choices."

I rolled my eyes as they all snickered at my earth language. "Okay, okay. So Bhelen is a big sleaze. Killing his siblings, and possibly his father...not the sort I'd want as King. Harrowmont, on the other hand, is completely honourable. Sort of insufferably so, to be honest. But Harrowmont is too stuffy, too traditional. The dwarves are practically on the verge of extinction from the darkspawn, and their traditions are making it impossible for anything to change for the better. Their poor, the casteless, are treated worse than elves in the Alienage, and that's saying something. No one can choose, or change their station, and the major form of social advancement is for a female to get pregnant with a bastard child from a higher caste and hope it is a boy. Anyone who ever does anything wrong is banished to the surface and never allowed to return. They are slowly destroying themselves.

"Harrowmont will doom the dwarves, and honestly, he doesn't have enough support to stay on the throne for long. On the other hand, Bhelen will start to rectify some of the problems if he becomes King, but that still means putting a disgusting excuse for a person on the throne. Plus he'll disband the council and become a despot when he meets any opposition."

"Two crappy choices indeed -- the honourable man who's a terrible King, or the terrible man who makes a not terrible but not wonderful King. So what are you hoping to accomplish by approaching the dwarf in Denerim?" Aedan looked uncomfortable, shifting around and fidgeting. I didn't blame him -- I wouldn't want to make that choice either.

"I don't...know, for sure. Maybe just some perspective. And...I thought we could offer to bring him with us. He's a talented warrior, and he might like the chance to see Orzammar again. Maybe he'd even want to be a Grey Warden? I don't know. But I was just thinking that any information he can offer would be good, you know?"

We all sat quietly, for a moment, considering. I was mostly procrastinating. I had something else to ask Aedan, and I knew it would be even worse than the previous conversation. Finally I sighed. I reached out to rest my hand on Aedan's.

"I have another question to ask."

"You do know that when you hold my hand in sympathy before the conversation even starts, it sets a certain...dismal tone to the whole thing, right?"

"Sorry. You're right, you're not going to like this one."

"Just go on, then, and ask whatever it is that's going to make me pull out my hair and gnash my teeth."

"I..." I hesitated. Alistair took my other hand in silent support, and I sent him a small smile of thanks. "Do you have any idea where Nathaniel Howe is, in the Free Marches?"

I'd never seen Aedan's expression change so fast

. From bemused and puzzled, to spiteful and murderous in two words. Well done.

He stared at the fire, refusing to meet my gaze.

"I never knew Nathaniel well. He and Fergus were friends. Whenever

that man

visited, I was stuck entertaining Thomas and Delilah." His anger was tightly controlled, but it frightened me. I tightened my grip on Aedan's hand, trying to draw him into looking at me.

"I know, I know. Rendon Howe killed your family.

Our

family." I corrected myself with a grimace. "He deserves to die, preferably slowly. I get it. But Aedan...Nate doesn't know what his father is doing. He's been in the Free Marches for a decade, and Rendon sent him there because he knew Nathaniel was too honourable to follow in his footsteps. He's not to blame for what happened. He's actually...a good guy, surprisingly."

Aedan glanced at me, surprise warring with the ongoing anger on his face. "You know Nathaniel?"

I nodded. "He was in the performance. He came back wanting to kill you, not knowing the truth. You ended up conscripting him into the Grey Wardens. You became friends, eventually."

Aedan's shoulders were tense, his body coiled as if to spring, and he looked away from me again. "If I ever become friends with that...that...murderer's son, just put me out of my misery. Slit my throat, or something. To answer your question, no, I don't know where he is. I assumed Kirkwall, but it could have been anywhere, I suppose."

He leapt to his feet, obviously agitated, his eyes clouded. "I need to...walk. I'll be back."

He stalked off, anger emanating from him in waves. Prince jumped up and jogged over to his side, Aedan's hand automatically touching his head as they left camp. I made eye contact with Zevran, who nodded and silently slipped into the woods to follow.

I slumped, and Alistair's armoured arm wrapped around me. I turned into him and pressed my face into his neck, more than grateful for his soothing presence. His strong hand rubbed my neck gently, and I hummed.

"He will come around, you know." Alistair kept kneading the tense muscles in my neck. I dropped my head, giving him better access.

"I know. And he will like Nate, I'm sure, after a while. It's hard for me to see it from his perspective. They may technically have been my parents, but they didn't raise me. It doesn't hit me the same way."

We sat quietly for a few more minutes, when it occurred to me I had a question for someone else. I looked up at the beautiful bard watching us with a wistful smile.

"Hey Leli?"

"Yes?"

"In Lothering...did you know many of the townsfolk?"

"Many, but not well. I spent most of my time in solitude or with the other sisters. Why?"

"Did you ever meet the Hawke family?"

"I didn't, although I have heard of them. The oldest girl, Marian, was known to break up the odd bar fight that would break out in Dane's Refuge. Even the templars were in awe of her fighting skills -- she was apparently a talented warrior. Why?"

"You just told me what I needed to know. Thanks."

We finished dinner, ate, and sat by the fire for a while, but Aedan didn't return. At one point Zevran came into camp briefly, grabbed food for the both of them, and slipped away into the shadows again. Afterwards Alistair and I took turns changing and collapsed into our tent. I couldn't sleep, at first; between worrying about Aedan and worrying about Denerim, my mind just wouldn't quiet down. Alistair was equally restless, and we just held each other quietly in the dark. I heard stirring when Aedan and Zevran finally returned to their tent, and then the camp was quiet.

I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I woke with a start in the morning, jumping right out of my bedroll before I caught myself. It was still dim in the tent, early morning light just starting to filter through the canvas. I glanced over at Alistair to see him still sleeping peacefully. He was curled on his side around a space where I'd obviously spent the night. His face was angelic, asleep; if he wouldn't have killed me for it, I'd have called him cute. As it was, his chiselled features filled me with a warmth that was anything but maternal, and I couldn't help myself. I carefully eased myself back into the space I'd vacated, enjoying his warmth surrounding me. He shifted slightly, clutching me to him, and I smiled. I reached up to kiss his chin, then trailed kisses down the side of his neck softly. He woke when my lips reached the neck of his tunic, his hand coming up to fist in my hair and pull my mouth up to his. His lips were soft, his tongue teasing against my own for entry, and I had just moaned and deepened the kiss when someone rapped on the side of the tent with a stick.

"Rise and shine, lovebirds! Our illustrious, alluring, incredibly handsome leader tells me it is time to move."

Alistair pulled away from me with a disappointed moan. I just sighed.

"Zevran, having my brother called 'alluring' in front of me is not making me want to get out of this tent any faster. You know that, right?"

A mocking laugh was my only response. Alistair wriggled into a sitting position, stretching and yawning like a cat, making me giggle. I leaned out of the way while he grabbed his armour and pulled it on over the clothes he'd worn to sleep. I arched an eyebrow at him.

"What? We will be staying at an inn tonight. We can have them wash our clothes. Does it really matter how clean they are until then?"

"Ooh. I wonder if they have any nice smelling soap to wash them in."

"If the place is called the Pearl, it must be fairly nice, right? I'm sure they do."

I snickered.

Just you wait.

"Ah, yes. Nice. Now would you hurry up so I can get changed? I'm not wearing a nightgown under my armour, thanks."

It took probably fifteen minutes for those of us going into Denerim to be ready. We were leaving our tents and camping gear, but we had loaded up all our packs with all the trinkets, armour pieces, and odds and ends Aedan had found and squirreled away during our travels.

I guess Bodahn's discount was less epic than advertised.

My pack weighed a ton, and I felt bad -- I knew I wouldn't be able to carry it the whole way, so Alistair was going to have to carry two. Though watching him pick them up was always amazing -- he lifted both, awkwardly, in one hand like they were nothing.

I wonder if I can get saddlebags made for Prince!

I giggled and shrugged off a strange look from Aedan, who seemed to be acting as though the discussion the night before had never happened. I was fine to try to forget it -- not that it would change what I had planned.

We all put our helmets on. Leliana and I shared an anxious glance, remembering the lice debacle, but then suited up. Aedan had even found some sort of light leather armour for Wynne. I doubted it would be very functional for her, but I also doubted most mercenary groups had an obvious Circle mage with them. Zevran was quick to compliment her on the outfit, and I thought she might actually throttle him. Ten more minutes of learning amusing Fereldan curse-words later, and we were ready to go.

It took only an hour to walk from our secluded valley to the gates. We stopped when the gates had just become visible to watch for a few minutes. Morrigan had been right -- there were frequently groups of armoured men passing through with no one stopping them. Several heavily-guarded caravans also went through. A closed carriage -- pulled by the first horses I'd seen in Ferelden -- had more guards than the biggest caravan, and I wondered who was in it. Anora? A carriage didn't seem Loghain's style. Aedan signaled us all to move forward once it was out of sight. We marched along almost in step, Aedan and Alistair leading, and I successfully managed not to gape as we passed under the enormous portcullis. I'd never been in a castle, living in Canada my whole life, and the stonework was fascinating to me. It felt a bit like wandering into medieval England or something.

The portcullis lead into an enormous open square. It vaguely reminded me of the market district from the game, but much, much busier. The chantry occupied one entire edge of the square, all wrought iron and dark stone, looking quite foreboding. It was nothing at all like the quaint churches I'd seen pictures of in medieval England. The middle of the square was a virtual labyrinth of stalls, all occupied by very loud, vehement people insisting on the quality of their wares. There were hundreds of people wandering through, haggling with vendors and talking amongst themselves. Armour clanking, groups of guards and mercenaries hurried around the edges. The amount of noise in the walled-in area was deafening, and I was disoriented for a moment as it overtook me.

The thing that stood out the most, though, was the smell. It was a combination of boys' locker room, outhouse, and rotten eggs, and I had to work at suppressing a gag. I could almost taste it on my tongue when I tried breathing through my mouth, and that was worse. I couldn't see any of my companions' faces, but based on the hesitation of our group at the edge of the open market, it wasn't pleasant for any of us. I wondered how long it would take until my poor nose adjusted. I had expected wet dog, not...this.

Aedan finally took initiative and began leading us across the square. People squeezed around us on all sides as we were swallowed into the press, and the stink of unwashed human became even stronger. I put on hand on the back of Alistair's armour and held on for dear life, certain that if I were to trip, I'd be trampled before anyone could help me. Holding on had another benefit though -- I was able to look around far more than I otherwise would if I had to pay attention to where I was going. So I stared, thankful for the helm that hid my likely stunned expression.

I noticed almost every stall had at least one armed guard, and the stalls with the most expensive items had several. I whispered to Leliana, who was practically rubbing against my back in an effort to stay close together, if that was normal, and she shook her head. I saw someone who couldn't have been anyone other than Sergeant Kylon standing at the edge of the throng, his face looking tired and frustrated. I pointed him out to Aedan -- I knew they'd never let me go with them, but he could offer some paying work later. I didn't see anyone who I could recognise as merchants from the game, but there were so many of them it would have been easy to overlook.

Aedan worked his way up to a stall and asked for Wade's Emporium. The merchant looked like he was about to shout at Aedan for wasting his time, but he took a second look at a group of six armoured, well-armed people wearing full helms and a mabari, and just mutely pointed. Wade's shop, as in game, was a small building, not a stall, and stood a little bit away from the busy central area. There were two guards standing outside the door, and they warned us not to make trouble, then stepped aside to let us in. There was another guard standing inside the door.

As we moved back to the counter where Herren stood, we could hear clanging from behind him, and in another moment we could see Wade himself, working at a forge. The surprisingly small man was throwing nasty looks in the direction of the guard, and appeared to be mumbling to himself, barely paying attention to the piece he was working on. I could see it was a shield -- an enormous one, bigger even than Alistair's. I wondered who carried such a thing. Without looking, totally engrossed in glaring at the guard, he shifted the shield and raised his hammer, and before anyone could cry out to stop him, he brought the hammer down on his own hand. His scream was horrific and made my ears hurt, and the armourer dropped to the ground, clutching at his wrist. There wasn't much blood, but his fingers were bent unnaturally and the whole thing already appeared to be swelling.