There and Back Again Ch. 075-076

Chapter Seventy-Five: Dwarven Politics

The first discrepancy between the real Orzammar and the game was stairs. There was a massive flight of stone stairs, wide enough for a platoon of soldiers to march in formation, leading down into the mountain. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. It made little sense that you would enter at high altitude, even with a mountain in front of you, and be able to go up a tier to the Diamond Quarter.

The Hall of Heroes was a lot more impressive than in game. It was probably the width and length of a football field, with dozens of statues that varied in size and groupings. Some were incredibly ornate, some ancient and much more worn with time; there were artisans working on scaffoldings, restoring the most damaged of the statues. It was tiered, leading further down into the mountain; every tier held several groupings of statues. Every sound echoed through the chamber, which could only have been done on purpose, and it kept everyone very hushed as we walked through. Duncan kept a slow pace so we could all gawk.

The chamber was dim, except where work was being done on the statues, but what light there was came from multiple torches in sconces on pillars throughout the room, and from the far end. The temperature rose, as we got further from the doors; outside it was below freezing, but halfway across the Hall of Heroes we started taking off extra layers of clothing. By the far end, it was comfortably room temperature.

One of the massive, round, dwarven doors stood open at the far end, leading into what I assumed were the Orzammar commons. The light was much brighter, and we all had to stop and adjust for a moment. When I could see clearly again, I stared, open-mouthed.

I knew Orzammar was huge, but the ceiling had to be sixty feet above our heads, and along each wall were statues carved into the stone of dwarves holding that ceiling up. It was sort of creepy -- I was sure the carvings were cosmetic, but it felt like the whole thing would come crashing down if one of those life-like statues decided to just let go.

Out in front was a lake of lava that stretched as far as I could see. That explains the temperature increase. We were probably ten feet above the level of the lava, and the lake was ringed with stone railings. The molten substance provided ample light, and it lit the whole area. There were no torches here. Out in the centre of the lake was a massive platform, attached to the commons by a long stone bridge, and I knew that would be the proving grounds. To either side of us, huge corridors led towards the areas that I guessed would house merchant stalls, stores, and housing for casted dwarves who were not of the nobility.

No dwarves were killing each other right at the entrance to the commons, for which I was grateful.

Duncan took the lead, obviously, as the only one who'd been to Orzammar before. Once everyone had done gawking, he led us off to the right. He was greeted by dwarves as we walked, and everyone seemed to know who we were, as well as knowing Duncan by name. We followed along, eyeing the goods on sale -- there were gems, and weapons, and carvings made out of stone, as well as vendors selling ale by the mug, and delicacies like roasted nug-on-a-stick. I tried my best not to gag; Alistair squeezed my hand sympathetically.

We came to another massive stairwell, and I guessed it would lead up to the Diamond Quarter. I stepped up to Duncan as we climbed.

"Tom...Duncan? Did you say something about a compound?"

He nodded. "The Grey Wardens have been allocated an estate near the palace. It's been ours for generations. There should be a small staff keeping it ready for us, paid for by the King. That is, unless the funding has been cut off since Endrin died."

"Well that would have been nice to know," I grumbled.

"You didn't know?"

"No, and I bet my boots neither do Aedan or Alistair."

"Neither do we what, little sister?" I looked to see both Wardens climbing stairs behind me.

"Did you know the Grey Wardens have a compound here?"

Both men shook their heads. Duncan smiled ruefully. "I really have been remiss in teaching you about the Grey Wardens, haven't I? Where did you stay in the performance?"

"It didn't say. It never really went into detail about that sort of thing. But having a place where messages could be left or we could invite Deshyrs to talk would have been handy."

"I think you'll like the place." Duncan smiled. "Real beds, a bathing chamber with runes that fill the tub with warm water on demand, and a huge main hall with all the food you can eat."

Alistair chuckled. "All the things a Warden needs to call a place home."

After winding our way up the massive staircase, we finally opened out onto another corridor, which was essentially a balcony looking down over the commons. I realised it had been done cleverly -- the balcony was the roof of the buildings below, and the noble's estates were built into the rock face. It mean that, unless you hung over the railing, those below could not even get a glance at the nobility above.

We walked down the corridor, now having to stop and bow as we passed the finely-dressed dwarves loitering about. It must have looked hilarious, because we all took our cues from Duncan, not knowing who we needed to bow to; we'd be walking, he'd suddenly stop and bow, and then like a little gaggle of geese behind him, we'd all stumble to a halt and copy him. No one laughed, though, and I wondered if the dwarves lacked a sense of humour, or were just being too polite.

I had to admit, it was weird in kind of a nice way to feel tall. Especially around Sten and Shale, obviously, but even Alistair and Anders were close to a foot taller than me. Being several inches taller than the tallest dwarf was sort of gratifying. Not that I'll ever say that out loud...

The estates we passed all had enormous carvings on the walls and ornate doors, competing with each other for gaudy decadence. I thought they were largely quite ugly, but who was I to judge? We finally came to an unassuming door on a plain section of wall. Duncan knocked firmly, and we waited only a few minutes before a gray-haired, enormously rotund, elderly dwarf woman answered. Her face broke out into a smile as soon as she saw Duncan, and she greeted him enthusiastically.

"My Lord! We heard rumours of a battle on the surface, that all the Grey Wardens died; the others, they all left, but I knew, and I stayed put, my Lord. I'm so glad to see you!"

Duncan smiled warmly. "Mistress Leta, these are my Grey Wardens and associates."

Her eyes went wide when she saw the number of us present, and wider still when she saw Shale and Sten with us.

"Oh my! How exciting! Oh, how rude of me. Please, all of you, come in. Come in."

She ushered us through a narrow foyer and down a hall into a dining area that rivalled the main hall at Redcliffe in size. There were half a dozen tables, all with padded benches, and a small riser near the front where someone could stand to make announcements to a large group. We set our packs on one of the tables and collapsed onto seats, happy to be done with walking for a while.

Apparently the only one left working in the estate, Mistress Leta was introduced to all of us. She nodded politely at each, though the mabari, the Qunari, and the golem still clearly made her a bit nervous. She assured Duncan that the bedrooms were all ready for us, and that she could have a couple of servants in to help, and a supper available in two hours. She pointed us down a hallway that led to the living quarters. There were a few larger bedrooms, clearly meant for important visitors, that were claimed by Duncan, Aedan and Zev, and Alistair and I; the rest of the rooms comfortably fit one, and there were more than a dozen on a second story up a narrow flight of stone steps. The rooms were nicely furnished, with large soft beds, small tables with chairs, and the walls covered in tapestries; the colour scheme was blue and silver or grey, Grey Warden colours. The only thing missing were windows.

Alistair and I stowed our gear, changed out of armour, and headed back to the main hall. Mistress Leta showed everyone around, mostly by pointing from the chair she'd settled her large self into.

"Down that hall, the third door and fourth door on the left are bathing chambers. Touch the runes, and warm water will flow. There's a plug in the bottom of the tub -- lift it when you're done and the water will drain. The first two doors are storage and such; please stay out. Past the bathing rooms are the armoury and the library.

"That hallway leads to the kitchen. There's two larders -- one you're allowed to raid in the night, the other you are not. Both are well-stocked, so stay out of the back room." I was sure anyone disobeying her would risk life and limb. She reminded me of a couple of the more military-style teachers I'd had in school.

"You need anything, you let me know and I'll arrange it. You need washing done, you put it in the hamper in your room and I'll send it out. I'm going to bring in a couple of my girls to help out while you're all here -- you boys keep your hands to yourselves, and we'll all get along fine. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am!" was the only possible response, and we all gave it. Leliana and I offered to help with the cooking, but she just laughed us off. She sent out messengers -- presumably to her girls -- and then hustled off to the kitchen. We all scattered to rest, and I found myself alone with Alistair, lying on our luxurious bed; not a lot of rest was had in our room, leaving Alistair with a smug grin when we headed out for supper.

The meal was excellent, not excessively fancy, and most of all, plentiful; there was fresh bread and produce, and something that looked a lot like roast beef -- I wondered if it was bronto, but didn't ask. After the meal, we gathered to plan the next day. Duncan cleared his throat.

"According to Mistress Leta, Prince Bhelen and Lord Harrowmont are indeed vying for the throne. She assures me that getting in to see either of them is unlikely, however, as Sierra said, they should be available to speak to tomorrow morning at the Assembly. I would like Aedan, Alistair, and Sierra with me; the rest of you are welcome to come with, to stay here, or to explore the Diamond Quarter or the commons, but I expect you to stay out of Dust Town and the Proving Grounds. We don't need any trouble.

"We will all meet here at lunch to discuss the next steps. Agreed?"

We all agreed, and then headed to bed. I had no idea what time it was, but Mistress Leta assured us that she would wake us in the morning, shortly after dawn. I wondered how she even knew what dawn was, but didn't ask.

Whenever dawn was, it came too soon; I groaned when the knock came, and dressed in a haze, stumbling to the main room for breakfast. I'd given up trying to hide how much I ate when we were on the road to Orzammar, so I dug in to sausage, cheese, and pancakes like the rest of the Wardens.

Duncan's face was scruffy the next morning; I guessed that he'd decided, since he'd been discovered, that he didn't need to hide his identity anymore and could let his beard grow out.

Leliana decided to accompany us as we sought out the political contacts we would need; everyone else elected to go shopping or stay put. Zevran didn't even show for breakfast, and a gleam in Aedan's eyes when Alistair mentioned it made me decide I didn't want to know. He didn't look unhappy, so I would just let it go. 'Don't ask, don't tell' works both ways.

The Assembly chamber wasn't far from the Warden compound, so we got there early. We were allowed in, after being admonished by the guards to be quiet and just watch. We eased into seats at the back, finding the council in the middle of a protracted discussion on trading rights and taxation with Harrowmont or Bhelen ruling. It was dull, with the exception of brief amusing screaming matches between opposing sides. I felt rather sorry for Steward Bandelore, who kept trying to bring order to the meeting, and failing badly.

The session broke for the morning, and we were finally able to speak to the Steward. I saw Duncan try to approach Lord Harrowmont, but he was fighting upstream against dwarves who weren't inclined to move, and the Deshyr slipped out. Bandelore confirmed what I already knew: neither would-be King would talk to us without some proof of intent.

Rather than go talk to the seconds of both, we conferred privately in an alcove in the assembly chamber. I told them what the game indicated we'd be asked to do for each man -- for Harrowmont, fight in a proving in his name, and for Bhelen, deliver letters that were probably forged to sway votes. The proving was far more honourable, and Duncan thought that Harrowmont might be convinced to back Sereda, assuming we could find her, so the decision was made. Duncan was frustrated at the complete lack of progress, and that he couldn't find some way to remain neutral, but I knew there wasn't a hope for that. In the end, the Grey Wardens would have to choose, as much as none of us wanted that.

We headed back to the Warden compound and met up with the group for lunch. We decided that Aedan would fight the solo battles in the proving -- as a noble, his opinion might matter more in Orzammar -- and that if group battle were required, Alistair, Anders, and Sten would join him. The rest of us decided to go down to watch, with the exception of Gorim, who needed to avoid notice.

Aedan went down to register, and learned that the Proving would begin the next day; we took the rest of the afternoon to go shopping and explore Orzammar. Leli and I tried on jewelry, Aedan, Zev, and Alistair spent their time looking at blades and armour, and Duncan wandered off to talk to Dulin Forender, Harrowmont's second.

We spent the evening at Tapsters, sipping at dreadful dwarven ale, listening to bawdy drinking songs, and generally having a good time. I saw a red-headed dwarf drinking alone at the back of the tavern; I tried to talk to him, but he was so drunk he could barely speak, and he passed out, flopping face-first onto a table, two minutes into the conversation. I sighed, then got everyone to help me drag the unconscious Oghren back to the compound; Aedan and Alistair dragged him into one of the bathtubs and left him there to prevent him from soiling a bedroom while drunk. He was as pungent as advertised -- it hadn't been obvious in the bar over the smell of dwarven ale and vomit, but it certainly was in the confined space of the bathing chamber. Mistress Leta, unamused, vowed to have him cleaned up the next day, and I figured his hygiene would probably benefit from that. I didn't question her on her methods -- I didn't really want to know -- but she seemed like the sort who would find a way.

Oghren was still sleeping it off the next morning; the rest of us had breakfast together, then headed to the Proving. We walked down together, and I was nervous. I knew Provings usually weren't fought to the death, but it didn't make me any happier. It just meant Aedan would be handicapped somewhat in the fights, not allowed to go all out.

Aedan, Alistair, Anders and Sten went down to the entry way into the arena, while the rest of us filed into the stands. I sat miserably between Leli and Zevran, both of whom kept patting my hands reassuringly. I wasn't particularly reassured. Zev seemed mostly offended that we were trying to support Harrowmont; I had to assure him, again, that it did not guarantee Harrowmont the throne, before he'd stop whining about it. I couldn't totally disagree -- he would be a weak King. I hoped, yet again, that we might find Sereda in the Deep Roads -- surely anything was better than either Bhelen or Harrowmont.

After a couple of matches between warrior-caste dwarves, the announcer stood and invited Aedan to enter. He sauntered in, declaring his support for Harrowmont, and the first match began. I clung to Zev's hand, wishing Alistair was there to comfort me.

Seweryn was no competition for Aedan; he threw some dirt into the dwarf's face when the fight started, and had the dwarf down with his blade to the warrior's neck before his eyes cleared. I started to relax, though the entire concept of Provings still pissed me off.

The twins, Myaja and Lucjan, were next; Aedan moved so fast he looked blurred, and then he had knocked Lucjan out by slamming the hilt of his sword into the rogue's temple. A few seconds more, and he swung around to take Myaja down with a feint and a dagger to the throat. The dwarves nodded respectfully to him as they limped away.

Sister Hanashan's enormous two-handed sword scared the crap out of me, but true to my experience with Sten, it made her slow. Aedan darted behind her when she raised her arms -- clearly she was unused to fighting a rogue -- and tripped her as he passed. She stumbled forward, and he allowed her a mere moment to regain her footing, before grabbing her from behind and sliding his dagger against her throat.

Unlike the previous opponents, she refused to concede, and she twisted, trying to use brute strength to knock him off. The dagger edged into her skin; Aedan, realising what was happening a little too late, released the dagger, but it had already done its damage, and a dark red bloodstain was spreading down the front of the Silent Sister's armour.

He lowered her to the ground carefully, looking up to call for a healer. Anders came racing through a side door, but didn't even have to get close before shaking his head. Hanashan was dead.

There was a brief break while attendants came to remove the body; Anders looked over Aedan, healing a couple of bruises while they waited. I knew Aedan would feel sick later, and I could only be glad Zevran would be there for him, even if he wouldn't entirely understand why.

Aedan had Alistair join him for the next fight, with Wojech and Velanz; I was worried about Alistair, too, but knowing how well he and Aedan worked together, I was actually less scared. Alistair took on the stout warrior; the arena rang with the sound of clashing shields, but Alistair's height advantage, as well as impressive skill won, and after a couple of bashes, he had Wojech on the ground, surrendering. Aedan managed to sneak behind the rogue, Velanz, when he attempted to flank Alistair. The rogue spun, but not fast enough, and Aedan slashed, scoring a cut deep in his unprotected armpit. The dwarf dropped his sword, but came at Aedan again with just his dagger. Copying my ill-fated move with Sten, Aedan grabbed the dwarf's wrist, bent and twisted his hips, and the injured dwarf went flying. He landed at Alistair's feet, and conceded when the warrior held a sword to his neck.

The last fight was a bit of a joke. Piotin was the only opponent who presented a challenge, but Anders slowed him a lot with frost, while Aedan and Sten took out his goons. Once that was done, it was only a matter of time before they wore the dwarf down; though he was, by far, the most talented fighter we'd seen, four on one gave a guaranteed outcome. He wouldn't concede, and so Alistair was forced to drop his shield and hold the dwarf down while Aedan held a blade to his throat; the announcer finally called the victory. There were cheers and catcalls from the audience at that; I just shook my head, wondering at the idiocy of preferring death to defeat. When defeat is inevitable, you might as well maintain as much dignity as you can while attempting to keep breathing...

Slightly battered and covered in blood, those who fought went back to the compound to clean up, while I accompanied Duncan to Tapster's to meet Dulin. We arranged to meet Harrowmont after supper, and retired back to the estate ourselves.

I hugged Aedan when we got back, checking him for injuries; he laughed me off, but held the hug as long as I wanted. Alistair, I dragged up to our room and inspected his freshly bathed skin in detail with my hands and my lips.