Chapter 108: Preparation

By the end of a month training and integrating armies on the plains of the Southern Bannorn and the Southron Hills, we were joined by Cailan, along with Eamon, Teagan, Nathaniel, and a large contingent of nobles whose troops we’d already assimilated, as well as Keeper Lanaya, Kardol of the Legion of the Dead, and Queen Sereda herself. The ruler of Orzammar leaving the city for the surface was no small event; it had been centuries since a Dwarven monarch had been seen on the surface. And many of the Deshyrs followed her, half out of curiosity, the rest out of obligation. The new military caste, made up largely of former casteless, was astoundingly well-disciplined, and outshone the grumbling, complaining warriors in almost every way.

It was weird, being left out of the decision-making for the first time in so long; Aedan and Alistair attended the strategy sessions with Duncan and Loghain, but the rest of us had to wait until they returned to fill us in. The large groups of nobles, dwarven and human alike, had been forced to choose representatives, instead of everyone attending every meeting. I was actually grateful not to be included, however, after hearing Aedan and Alistair describe the shouting and complaining between all of the various parties involved; it sounded like every board meeting I’d ever attended, and I didn’t miss that aspect of my job back on Earth in the slightest.

I’d managed to keep avoiding Loghain, both on the road and once we’d established camp, until one night after a particularly bad strategy meeting. He followed Aedan back to his tent, which happened to be next to the one I shared with Alistair, still deep in discussion with his fellow Wardens. Busy cleaning mud off my armour, I didn’t notice his arrival until he was practically standing next to me, and I flinched, scrambling to my feet.

Aedan took one look at my face, which I guessed was pale with anxiety, and proceeded to drag Loghain away from me, to the former Teyrn’s confusion. I heard Aedan hiss something at him, probably instructions to shut up, if I knew Aedan, as Loghain asked what was wrong with me. I couldn’t hear the rest of the discussion, to my relief, and I wondered whether Aedan had changed his mind about explaining my background to the taciturn warrior.

I soon learned that indeed he hadn’t, when Loghain approached me one day as I sat, alone, cleaning my armour after a brief encounter with a small party of raiding darkspawn. He walked up deliberately, and unless I wanted to obviously snub him by standing up and walking away, I was forced to wait and see what he’d say.

I remained seated, refusing to even make eye contact, never mind glance around to look for backup. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me look vulnerable. “Yes, Warden?” I hadn’t meant my tone to come out so harsh, and I winced.

Loghain wrinkled his brow, looking perplexed. “Do I know you, your Highness?”

“Ugh, don’t call me that.”

“It is who you are, though, is it not?” I shrugged noncommittally, so he continued. “What shall I call you, then? Lady Theirin?”

“My name is Sierra.”

“As you wish. But you didn’t answer my question, Sierra. Do we know each other?”

I looked up at him, rolling my eyes. “You expect me to believe you can’t remember?”

“Well, I hoped I had forgotten something. To my surprise, most of your companions have been relatively pleasant; your brother, who has more reason than most to despise me has been almost welcoming, compared to your avoidance and open hostility. I’m not as young as I once was, and I couldn’t figure out why I bother you so, particularly, if we had never met.”

I looked back to my armour. “Killing my parents wasn’t enough reason?” I asked in a deceptively mild manner.

“That was Rendon Howe, Princess. I had nothing to do with that.”

“Right. Because Howe would totally have slaughtered an entire castle, including children and servants, knowing that the King would have his head when they returned from Ostagar.”

“I knew he had evidence of treason committed by your father. I did not know he would kill everyone. He was supposed to arrest your parents and bring them before the Landsmeet with his proof.”

“And yet, when he disobeyed your orders, you punished him by allowing him to claim the Teyrnir as well as the Arling of Denerim? You definitely showed him.” I snorted in disgust. “I notice you don’t deny that he was aware that Cailan was meant to perish at Ostagar.”

“By the time I learned of his actions in Highever, I had no choice. The nobility had turned against me, and I needed him.”

Does he think I’m stupid, not to notice he avoided the question twice? “You needed him in order to start a civil war and try to make a grab for the throne? Ah, yes, I understand. Now I forgive you.” I suppressed a grin as I watched an angry-looking Zevran creep up behind the heavily armoured Warden.

“To-” He stopped and sputtered, face red. “You do not understand the threat-”

“If you say one word about Orlais, I will allow my friend, behind you, to eviscerate you, as he so clearly wants to.”

Loghain stopped and spun, hand reaching for the pommel of his sword, only to find Zevran’s dagger pressed against his jugular, a feral grin on his face.

“We meet again! Zevran Arainai, assassin and former Crow, in case you’ve forgotten. At her service, just so we are clear, yes?” The elf winked at me, and I grinned briefly.

“Zev, put it down. The Warden and I were just having a light conversation. No need for bloodshed.”

“Are you certain? I haven’t assassinated anyone in days. My hands are itching, cara mia.” He lowered the dagger with a flourish, and stepped around Loghain to sink to the ground beside me. “If you insist, then. What are we talking about?”

“Warden Loghain was attempting to understand why I might be hostile towards him.”

“And the attempted assassination of your beloved and your brother wasn’t reason enough?”

I grinned at Zevran as Loghain shifted uncomfortably. “Actually, I don’t hold that against him too hard – it brought you into our lives, after all.”

“True. And what would you do without my awesome self?”

“Exactly. Now, planning to sell elves as slaves to Tevinter, on the other hand...”

Loghain raised his eyebrows, startled. “I didn’t...”

“Just because they weren’t successful, doesn’t mean you didn’t try, Loghain. I know about Caladrius. Another idea of Howe’s that you were only too happy to go along with, I suspect?”

“I ... You ... How... ?”

It was vastly amusing watching Loghain, of all people, speechless, and I had to laugh at his stuttering. “Talk to my brother, Warden. If he chooses to tell you about my background, then come back and we can discuss things further. For now, allow me to say that I don’t just dislike you. I hate you, utterly and completely.”

Zevran cleared his throat. “I think you should know that we are watching you, yes? If you do a single thing to make me doubt your intentions, to hurt any of our friends or family, I will gut you like the pig you are. Yes?”

I nodded enthusiastically and squeezed Zevran’s arm. I had played the game enough to know that Loghain wouldn’t betray the Wardens, but his explanations for his actions had always seemed ... lame. And I’d changed some things. Especially knowing he was to be transferred permanently to Orlais, it was possible he’d do something desperate or stupid.

“Your Highness,” Loghain whispered, the look on his face hard to read. “Believe me when I tell you that, regardless of my past actions, I am fully committed to the Grey Wardens. I did not understand, before. And your brother would say I neither asked nor listened, and he’s not wrong. But I do understand, now. Commander Duncan tells me you know about the dreams – I’ve had them too. I would not do anything to endanger the Grey Wardens, knowing what I know now.”

He stared earnestly at me for a moment, before bowing and turning to walk away. I was left feeling confused, off-kilter. I didn’t like not knowing what he was thinking, worrying about the consequences of my presence in Thedas. I turned to Zev for reassurance, to find him biting his lip, looking after the retreating back of the former Teyrn with a puzzled expression. When he caught my gaze, he shrugged expressively, and I slapped his shoulder.

“You’re not helping to reassure me, Zev.”

“I know, cara mia. I know.”

I sighed and went back to cleaning my armour.

Finally, after almost two months camped in the rain in the southern Bannorn, Shale and Caridin showed up. And the golem army they’d brought was far more impressive than what they’d predicted before we left Orzammar.

In the Deep Roads, wandering into Thaigs and hallways that no one but darkspawn had seen in centuries, the Paragon and our friend had found dozens upon dozens of inactivated but functional golems, bringing them to the surface for the first time since they’d been forged. They hadn’t even begun work on Shale’s goal of freeing them from the slavery of the control rods Caridin had created for them, but they would have plenty of subjects to work on when the Blight was over.

They approached the camp not from the west, as we expected, but from the south, through the Korcari Wilds. In their travels, the two sentient golems had unearthed lost maps and forgotten tunnels, and managed to find the routes the darkspawn were using to come to the surface; through cleverness and pretending to be deactivated when outnumbered too badly, they had followed part of the gathering horde right to us.

They brought interesting news, however: they had seen the Archdemon, and the beast was, at best estimate, a few days behind them on its way to the surface.

The news of the Horde’s movements and the imminent arrival of the Archdemon galvanized the armies and its leaders like nothing else could have. The complaining nobles stopped whining and took directions from Duncan, Loghain, and their monarchs; the separate army units that had been formed marched to their designated locations to wait. The golems would stay together, the need for the control rods making splitting them up prohibitive; the rest of the various combatants were mixed into their battalions.

The strategy was relatively simple, though I suspected there were many complexities I was not aware of or just didn’t understand: a large contingent would wait, for all appearances completely alone, in each of the likely locations where the horde and the Archdemon could appear. When they were spotted, messengers would be sent, by air and on foot, and the rest of the divided armies would arrive in their battalions from multiple different directions at once, coordinated by ravens, shape-shifted mages, and coloured magic flares. The unit responsible for grounding the dragon – the mages and bola launchers – would travel with the bulk of the Grey Wardens and our companions, who were to be divided into three groups that would head to where they were needed to confront not only the Archdemon, once it was down, but also the darkspawn Generals we expected to accompany the horde.

Finally, Cailan, Sereda, Keeper Lanaya, Knight-Commander Greagoir, the Revered Mother, and myself, surrounded by a small army of nobles, messengers, raven handlers, a few mages, and some templars, would travel as a group, staying to the rear of the conflict, ready and able to give orders and divert the various battalions depending on the progress of the battle. I was quite certain the only reasons I was included in the illustrious group of muckety mucks were to keep me out of the battle –whether I had Alistair or Aedan to blame for that, I couldn’t be sure – and to babysit Cailan in case he decided to engage in some moronic heroics. I was pretty sure he’d stay put; after feeling humiliated by being manipulated by Loghain, he’d developed some new-found wisdom. I hope.

There was a battalion, led by Teagan, going to defend Redcliffe against the feint we expected, who would join the rest of the armies once Redcliffe was safe.

Two nights before the expected start of the conflict, Duncan pulled Alistair, Aedan, and I in to one of the larger command tents to talk.

We all made ourselves comfortable, ignoring the handful of portable camp stools in favour of sitting together on the ground as though we were still at camp, travelling alone trying to unite armies against the Blight.

Duncan looked unusually solemn as he stroked his beard thoughtfully. “We need to talk ... about the future of the Wardens once I am gone.” He held his hand up, forestalling the objections the three of us were about to start shouting. “You all know as well as I do that I will not outlive this Blight. Were it not for the imminent battle, I would already have gone on my Calling. If I have my way, it will be I who strikes the killing blow against the Archdemon – no one else need die for this. We need to face the reality that I will not be leading the Grey Wardens once the Blight is over.”

My brother, my husband, and I, as a group, subsided into pouty silence, and Duncan forced a smile. “I am honoured by your regard, truly, but that is not what we need to talk about.”

I looked up, wondering what exactly he did want to discuss.

“First of all, you are the most senior of the Fereldan Grey Wardens. It will be between you two to rebuild the Grey Wardens in Ferelden and deal not only with the Mother and the Architect, but defend against the Thaw as well.”

Alistair twitched. “But Riordan...”

“Will be returning to Orlais, should he survive. As will Conrad and Dougal. Despite their temporary defection, they are not Fereldan Grey Wardens. Loghain is not the only Fereldan who is suspicious of Orlais; they will not be tolerated here permanently, even should they wish to stay, especially not in a leadership role. Nor do any of them wish to take on that role. Whoever commands the Wardens when the Blight is over will be a powerful figure in Ferelden, regardless of nobility or birthright. Between Cailan’s regard and the respect earned if we successfully end a Blight faster than anyone in history, the Warden Commander will be a visible, influential person.

“No, I’m afraid it falls to you two. For what it is worth, I am sorry to leave either of you in this position.”

Aedan and Alistair shared despairing looks, and I giggled. “You look like someone’s just told you that you only have a week to live, not that you have been granted positions of power and privilege.”

“Easy for you to say, sister.”

“Hey! I’m already the stupid steward of Soldier’s Peak and a sodding princess, I’ll remind you. Warden Commander seems fairly benign by comparison.” I stuck my tongue out at Aedan and the three men chuckled.

“To return to my point,” Duncan sighed, rolling his eyes at my antics, “one of you will be named Warden Commander. I suggest you might want to figure it out in advance.”

“You aren’t going to choose your successor? I thought that’s how it was done.” Alistair looked confused, but less panicky at the concept of leadership than he could have.

“I think the two of you are more than capable of determining what is best on your own.”

Aedan and Alistair shared another meaningful look, and my brother raised one eyebrow. Alistair nodded, and they turned back to Duncan in unison. “We’ll share it.”