And into this tense scene walks a smiling dwarf, wearing expensive light armour in a style most surface-dwellers would find unfamiliar. Instead of the more traditional axe or mace, he carries a longsword on his back and a couple of daggers on his belt; and he's unusually skinny for a dwarf, almost humanlike in build. There's a human mage in Circle robes trailing him, but next to the dwarf she looks positively unremarkable.

"Excuse me!" he says. "Would someone mind telling me what's going on here?"

"They're kidnapping us!" shouts someone in the crowd.

"We are maintaining a quarantine in order to mitigate the spread of the plague," responds one of the mages, an older man with an impressive beard. "Return to your homes, and allow us to continue our work."

One of the other mages does a very small double take, seeing the dwarf.

"Plague, is it? I happen to know some expert healers. Maybe we can help."

"We have the situation fully under control."

"Liars!" "They took Elder Velandrian!" "Where is my wife?"

"There seems to be some disagreement on the subject of how under control this situation is," he observes. "Surely more healers will help hasten the day when the sick folk can be released from quarantine to rejoin their families."

"Bringing in more uninoculated people will not help, dwarf. This quarantine is for their own good. The people will be released when we are satisfied that the plague will not return."

The crowd of elves are muttering angrily, and pressing up against the armored men. The men push back with their shields to maintain their line.

"That would be 'prince'," he corrects, all smiles. "But I won't insist that you stand on formality. I understand surfacers don't know these things."

Dwarf prince, on the surface, tall and thin? Yeah, it's him.

This'll end well.

"You're a long way from Orzammar, 'prince'."

"There's a Blight on, in case you hadn't heard."

"Yes. Which is why it is critical that order in the capital be maintained," his focus shifts back to the crowd. "Disperse. Return to your homes, or we will be forced to take action."

"Ah, yes. Maintaining order," murmurs the dwarf, apparently to himself. Aloud to the magister, he adds, "Why don't I give it a try?"

And he turns and scans the crowd, and picks out someone to approach. "Excuse me, may I speak with you for a moment?"

The red-haired girl looks at him desperately.

"You have to do something. They took Elder Velandrian. He wasn't even sick."

Quietly, so as not to be overheard, he says, "I certainly will, but if you all keep hanging around shouting at them you're only going to get yourselves killed."

"We can't just do nothing! They've been here for weeks."

"You have my personal guarantee that they won't be here tomorrow."

She chews on her lip indecisively for a moment.

"...All right," she concedes. "Come on everyone, we won't get anything standing around here. Let's go home."

The crowd slowly drifts apart. The magister smirks in satisfaction, and turns on his heel and leads his party inside.

One of them glances back over her shoulder at the dwarf, then flicks her gaze in the direction of a boarded-up shop in opposite corner.

"Now, about those healers—" he says, not particularly expecting the magister to turn around.

No reply but the slam of the door.

Typical.

What's with this boarded-up shop, then?

It's got boards across the door. Nothing really interesting.

"That was Caleb's shop," says the redhead. "He was one of the first taken. I'm Shianni, what's your name? Why are you here? What are you going to do about the magisters?"

"Prince Stalas Aeducan of Orzammar, saving the world, and I hope to convince them to go away but they're looking more and more like the sort of people who can only be convinced with violence."

"Oh." She frowns. "They deserve it."

"Yes, that's becoming increasingly clear."

"Why are you looking at Caleb's?"

"Because I have reason to believe there might be something useful or informative here."

Shianni is confused.

These boards don't seem to have been nailed in very well, it'd be pretty easy to pry them off and get inside.

He glances at his companion.

The boards come away from the door and stack themselves neatly beside it.

"Whoa!"

The door is in good condition behind the boards. Locked, of course.

Locked? Is it sure about that?

Now that she mentions it... No. It is not.

One unlocked door, good condition. Free to a good home.

She smiles and makes a little 'after you' motion to Stalas.

And Stalas leads the way inside.

It's full of elf-sized cages, stacked floor to ceiling. There's an aisle of space down one side that leads back and around a corner.

...well then.

Onward? Onward.

"Wh- these aren't Caleb's. Where did they come from?"

"The magisters, I'm sure."

"Oh. Oh. Oh no. No nononono-" She stops herself, takes a deep breath.

"Yeah."

And is there anything interesting around that corner...?

Room full of various chains and shackles and locks. And a back door.

Great.

And the back door leads...?

To an alleyway. And a waiting magister.

"Here already? You do move quickly."

"I cheat. Stalas Aeducan, delighted to make your acquaintance."

"Eliana Fabil. Likewise. Might we continue inside? I confess myself somewhat ill at ease standing with my back exposed."

"Oh, by all means."

She nods thanks, and enters.

"What are you doing?! She's one of them!"

"Trust me," says Stalas. "I know exactly what I'm doing, and it's going to end in the release of as many of your kidnapped friends as are still in reach."

Shianni makes a worried expression, but settles down.

"Unfortunately, that won't be all of them. Anyone taken in the last week will still be in the warehouse, the transport won't arrive until tomorrow."

"Yes, I was afraid of that," says Stalas. "What else can you tell me?"

"Many things. It may also interest you to know that this operation is being conducted with the full knowledge and permission of the Regent Loghain."

"It interests me immensely, yes," he says. "I want these people freed and I want proof of the regent's involvement. Can you help me?"

"I could. But if I do, I will be alone in a foreign country whose natives dislike me on principle."

"I believe you may have heard a few things about my capacity to protect my friends," says Stalas.

"Which courtesy you will be extending to me?"

"Yes."

"A good word with the Warden-Commander of Ferelden is also available," his mage companion adds. "But I'll understand completely if Stalas's friendship means more, under the circumstances."

"Blight or no, there are but two of them in Ferelden. And I have no especial desire to join their ranks."

She nods agreeably.

"So. Putting a stop to this. We have twenty-five men, and five mages, including myself. Magister Caladrius is in charge, it is he who will have the proof you seek, most likely on his person."

"Likelihood that I can coax it off him with my renowned personal charm?"

"If you can get to him, maybe. He has no great affection for Loghain. But he will be very resistant to the idea of letting any of the elves go."

"We'll see what happens. Metella, can you find Clare for me? I bet Elissa and Ambrose are busy."

"Should I have Hesta and Kador bring your spare armour?"

"Hmm. Possibly overkill."

He looks at Eliana.

"Any thoughts on the wisdom of going in like so versus going in dressed very convincingly as a golem? You know the personalities and capabilities involved better than I do."

Dressed as a-

Blink.

"If they think you don't have any blood, they will not try to turn it against you. Which is, in my estimation, the main danger."

"Convenient. All right, that's a yes on the armour," he says to Metella. "Off you go."

She nods cheerfully and departs.

"Of course, there will still be others in the vicinity with blood of their own."

"Yes, and in an enclosed space, which is unfortunate."

"Mm. Have you fought a blood mage before?"

"I don't remember offhand. It's been a busy couple of months. Pretty sure Metella has, though, there was that bit of trouble at Kinloch Hold."

"I had heard something about that. The key point is that blood is most powerful when it comes from a living donor, or is spilt in the act of death. Siphoning from an unwilling vessel requires a certain amount of time and focus. Kill their allies quickly and cleanly, and don't let them have space to perform a ritual." She quirks a smile. "Other than that, it's not much different from fighting a conventional mage."

"I can work with that."

"Good. So. This golem suit you have. How does it work?"

"When this is all over I'll be happy to take you to Orzammar to ask Caridin about the technical details. I'm not a master smith myself, so the intricacies are a little lost on me, but my understanding is that the lyrium in my blood makes me a little bit like a golem already and that was enough to let him bridge the gap. He's working on a version that any dwarf could use; he's not sure whether it'll ever be possible to make them for anyone else."

"Lyrium in your blood?"

"If you catch Metella in a good mood after this little scuffle, she might let you see her experimental notes. Yes, lyrium in my blood. Politics in Orzammar can get remarkably exciting sometimes."

"It must," she murmurs. "I shall have to think about arranging a visit at some point."

Shianni, apparently discomfited by the look on Eliana's face, maneuvers so as to put Stalas more firmly beyween her and the magister.

Fine by Stalas. "You can come back with me after we end the Blight, if you like. I can introduce you to Caridin and his apprentice, if she hasn't already gone to Kinloch Hold to study magic by then."

"I think I would like that."

"Excellent. And I think Metella should be back any minute now. Will you be helping or staying out of it? Anything non-obvious I should know about the layout of the building?"

"I will help if you trust me to. There are a number of traps to look for-" and she can provide details on where and how to avoid triggering them. "Caladrius will be in his office, near the loading dock at the other end of the building."

He nods.

"I'm thinking Hesta and Kador and I will knock politely on the front door, and you can go in the back with Metella and Clare. Hesta and Kador are golems, Clare's more or less a mage."

"How much less than more?"

"In addition to being a mage she's one of the best archers I've ever seen, and not bad with sword and daggers either."

"Interesting. I didn't think the southern Circles permitted their charges that much freedom."

"They don't. Clare is, shall we say, unofficial."

"Aha. Far be it from me to decry such heterodoxy."

He laughs.

And then Metella appears around the corner and beckons him over.

"See you in a bit," he says cheerfully, and goes off with Metella.

"...Why are you doing this?"

"Because I like my fellows only slightly more than you do, and because this operation was finished the moment he learned of it, even if Caladrius thinks otherwise."

And here is Metella again.

She brought a friend! The friend has a staff on her back that looks very definitely like the kind you hit people with rather than the kind you use to do magic.

"Hello. You are Clare?"

"Yes," she says. "And you are Eliana. Hello."

"It would be best if the two entries coincided as closely. What is the others' plan?"

"Stalas is going to knock on the door. We will have no trouble hearing it from behind the building. We can assume he will be going in shortly afterward."

"I almost wish I could be there to see the guards' faces. Coming from the back, we will be facing less resistance. Closest place likely to contain hostiles is the refectory, two hallways over from the door."

Acknowledging nods from both of them.

"My magical specialty is telekinesis; Clare is a melee fighter today unless a third mage starts looking unexpectedly useful."

"Understood. I can handle elementalism, and I have made a study of some of the more esoteric arts. If you do not object to their use on principle."

"My principled objections to things are entirely concerned with how much harm is being done to people, and not a bit about how forbidden any particular discipline may or may not be."

Nod.

"What about me?"

"You'll be a liability. Stay here."

"Don't worry," says Metella, "we have everything under control."

And, out front of the building:

a golem knocks on the door.

It stays mounted on its hinges, but only just.

A wooden slat at eye level moves back and a pair of eyes peer out. They widen in shock when they see the golem.

The golem's steel helmet is incapable of smiling, but there is a certain sense in the way it tilts its head that a grin would go there if it fit.

"Good afternoon," it says. "I was told a healer was requested at this address."

"I- Wh- Uh-" stutters the pair of eyes. The wooden slat slams back into place.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Uh, I, uh, go away?" a voice asks.

The poor door is not going to be able to stand much more abuse.

Knock. Knock. Kn—there it goes.

The steel golem steps inside, followed by two stone friends.

"The healers have arrived!" it announces.

Doesn't look like there are any sick people who need healing here. Apart from the guy who just took a whole door to the face. And the entire rest of his body. He's either dead or unconscious though, so it can probably wait.

There are five men in armor further into the room, and a mage behind them who immediately launches a fireball over their heads at the golems.

The golems appear to be impervious to fire.

(One of them actually finds it really uncomfortable, but showmanship is important.)

They stride unstoppably across the room toward the mage and his guards.

Another fireball, and another, and then the golems are too close. The soldiers engage. They're very well disciplined, even if their training never covered this scenario.

The mage stops throwing flashy effects around and assumes a look of intense concentration.

One of the stone golems picks up a soldier, incidentally crushing the back of his neck with one hand in the process, and throws him at the mage.

Meanwhile, the talkative one is terrifyingly fast for being half a ton of steel. The remaining four soldiers are not having a good time.

No. No they are not.

The mage goes down, struggles to rise for a moment, decides against it, draws a knife, cuts half the soldier's face off-

—and the steel golem leaps the intervening five feet, lands with a thud that shakes the whole building, and punches him in the head.

Thus ends the mage.

Yyyep.

That. That about wraps it up for this room.

Onward!

The layout is just like Eliana described it, traps and all. The traps don't really do too much to golems.

He's going to be cursing himself later for wearing the golem suit, but Stone, it's so much fun.

The golems encounter two more groups of soldiers, but no more mages.

And what do the mages encounter?

Outside the back door, there is an elf who appears to be sick, coughing and moaning.

"The sentinel," she says, taking out a small knife and cutting the ball of her thumb. "I will co-opt it, one moment."

...all right then.

Eliana kneels down in front of it and presses her thumb to its face. There is a bright flash of light and the body jerks suddenly and goes still. A moment later, it jerks again. When the eyes open, they glow orange. She rises back to her feet, and the elf stands also.

Metella observes this process curiously.

"Sloth demons make good watchers, but rage demons are better at fighting."

"Aha."

Door: open.

Elf-demon puppet thing: sent through first. It survives this experience, so the rest of the group can follow.

The sound of Stalas knocking on the door is exactly as audible as promised! And that must be the sound of him and Hesta and Kador entering the building. Right on time.

"Shall we press straight for Caladrius or attempt to clear out some of the potential reinforcements?"

"Reinforcements, I think," says Metella.

(Clare is untalkative.)

Nod. She directs the elf to turn left and ascend a set of stairs. She has it stop outside a closed door up there.

"Ready?"

Nod.

Nod.

The elf kicks the door open and charges in. Shouts of surprise and alarm from within, the clatter of disrupted cutlery.

Clare follows, staff in hand.

Six soldiers, wearing about three-quarters of a full set of armor between them. Two still have their swords and are attempting to use them to hack the elf apart, with middling success. The others have backed away from that fight, and look up at Clare when she enters.

Clare hits people with her staff.

Metella hits people with a table.

Eliana frowns at the two attempting to chop up her necromantic puppet. One of them falls over as his whole body seizes up. The elf takes the opportunity to tackle the other in a full body grapple, and they go down in a tangle of limbs.

The mysteriously animated table has taken out three soldiers by now; it settles down, mission complete. A fourth soldier, fleeing Clare, sees Metella and attempts to stab her on principle; unfortunately for him, that's a fork he's holding.

And then Clare hits him again and he ceases to be a problem.

Eliana walks over and slits the throat of the one she took down. The elf is now thoroughly unsalvageable, that demon can go away now. The soldiers are in good enough condition still. She pulls blood out of the one she killed. It rises into the air, a shimmering red viscous mass. She contemplates it a moment, then splits it into six even parts. One finds its way to each of the fallen, and impacts with a flash. The soldiers rise jerkily back to their feet.

How efficient.

Onward?

The corpses lead the way.

Down the hallway, around the corner, down the stairs, corner again, up more stairs, another corner, hallway.

There are two mages at the end of that last hall.

Are there by any chance any loose objects near those mages...?

There are not.

The dead soldiers charge.

The soldiers can have this one, then. They're much more use than Metella in close quarters with no handy tables to fling.

They are blocked in their advance by the sudden appearance of a large wall of ice.

Eliana starts lobbing fireballs at it, but it is apparently fairly thick. And advancing.

Metella smiles slightly.

The ice cracks apart into several pieces. There is some mostly-insignificant damage to the surrounding walls.

Nicely done.

Eliana redirects the trajectory of her next fireball so that it arcs all the way down to the mages.

One of them erects a barrier in time to ward it off, but by then the soldiers are upon them, and the mages, well. They are Not Good at hand to hand fighting.

Also, several large chunks of ice are following that fireball down the hall.

Yeah, they're dead.

Good, good.

"Where to next?"

"Caladrius is not far. Hopefully we will meet the others there."

Nod.

Yep! There they are! Stalas is completely unrecognizable in his steel golem suit.

"How many did you meet on your way here?"

He raises his faceplate briefly so he can talk without using the golem voice.

"Six soldiers and a mage near the front, eight more soldiers in the halls. You?"

"Six, and two mages." Four of the soldiers are still accompanying her. "So Caladrius has only five guards left."

"How convenient for us."

He closes his faceplate and makes an ironically polite after-you gesture to the reanimated soldiers.

They burst through the door, and promptly catch fire.

Fun!

Stalas tilts his head slightly. One of the stone golems tromps through the door in the wake of the flaming revenants.

The golem fails to catch fire, or be attacked in any way.

The door opens onto a sort of balcony overlooking a warehouse floor, with stairs down off to one side. The warehouse holds more of those elf crates seen in the shop, now with added live elves.

The magister is in the center of the floor, encircled by his remaining guards and holding a knife to throat of a grey-haired elf.

"Stop there," he calls. "The rest of you, come out where I can see you, or the elf dies."

"If you insist," says Stalas-the-golem. He follows Kador, and Hesta follows him.

Metella files into the room after Hesta.

And Clare after Metella.

And then finally Eliana.

"There you all are. Eliana, I expected better of you."

"I can read the changing wind, magister, even if you cannot."

"Hmph. Well then. You have destroyed my cover, decimated my men. What is it that you want?"

"I want you to let all your captives go unharmed, give us proof of Teyrn Loghain's involvement in this little escapade, and then go away and not come back," says Stalas, very reasonably.

"Now, that doesn't sound very appealing. I've invested a significant amount of time and energy into this project and if I return home with nothing to show for it, well."

"You'll be returning home alive, which is more than you'll get if you don't let all your captives go unharmed," says Stalas.

"That's not actually preferable."

"Is it not? One wonders why you get into these business ventures in the first place. I suppose I could be convinced to pay you for the proof; the other condition is non-negotiable."

"A hundred and fifty sovereigns."

"Enough to set up a new household. He's going to be in a significant amount of trouble when he returns to Minrathous."

"And she comes with me."

"She goes where she likes. I remind you once again that you are not leaving this city with any prisoners. Does fifty sovereigns sound like enough to make life worth living?"

"Just kill him he's not worth this-"

"Fifty sovereigns to walk away having lost the slaves, my men, and the Archon's pet project?" He shakes his head. "No."

"You're a remarkably inconvenient person," says Stalas. "I don't normally have to pay my enemies not to kill themselves."

And then the knife in the magister's hand leaps away.

He makes an abortive fumble after it, curses, then shoves the elf away from him. He shakes his hands free and raises them, chanting some sort of ritual.

His guards tighten their ranks, two with bows nock arrows and fire up at the group on the platform.

"It's a sacrifice stop him now!"

Stalas gestures subtly at Metella as he and Hesta and Kador jump down from the platform—

The golems get in the way of the first volley of arrows, the combined impact of Hesta and Kador shakes the floor badly enough to affect the archers' footing, and Stalas flies three times as far as the other two and lands almost directly on top of Caladrius.

He stumbles backward, his casting interrupted. He hastily raises a flimsy barrier to buy the two seconds he needs to get a more solid one up-

How does the flimsy barrier handle being punched by a golem? Most things handle that poorly, but you never know.

It gives way. Saps a considerable portion of the energy of his swing, enough so that when the follow-through connects with the magister's body only the breath is knocked out of him, and not his actual life.

"Reconsider your choices," Stalas suggests, grabbing the magister by the throat.

"Yrgrk," says the magister.

And if Stalas graciously allows him to talk...?

"Yes! Yes! You win. The contract is in my office, here, the key. Just let me go."

"Don't. If he goes, he'll tell the Archon what happened here and then someone will be sent to collect me."

"And I don't suppose there's any chance of him reliably agreeing not to mention it?"

"There's no promise he can make that I would trust."

He waits a moment to see if Caladrius has anything to add.

"You can't kill me now! I've surrendered!"

"Yes, and you do get some consideration for that, but if I know in advance that you're just going to run off and get my friend in trouble..."

"Your friend? You can't have known her more than an hour."

"I make friends quickly. It's a talent."

(Meanwhile, cages are opening and elves are being escorted quietly out of the room.)

(Elves are very relieved to be leaving this place.)

"Stop talking to him and just kill him. He's not going to offer any guarentee of silence, because he knows he can't."

"For future reference, this is the sort of thing I like to know in advance," says Stalas. But he closes his hand. Important parts of Caladrius go crunch.

Magister jam, ick.

"I was going to tell you when it became relevant. And I had hoped it wouldn't be."

He lets go and lifts his faceplate so he can converse at a more reasonable volume.

"I can see the logic, but it's important to me on both personal and practical grounds to be well-informed about when it is and is not feasible to offer mercy to my enemies."

"Then next time a similar situation arises, I will provide you with what information I have to that effect."

"Thank you, I appreciate it."

"Yes."

"Thank you."

"I take my friendships very seriously, however new."

Slight smile.

"In that case, do you mind if I travel with you for a time? When I return to Tevinter, it will now be on my own terms, but I am not quite ready to go back yet."

"I'd be delighted to have you along."

The elf Caladrius was holding hostage has regained his feet, and now comes over to the two of them.

"Thank you for your most timely intervention."

"Happy to help," says Stalas, turning to him. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Time and space," he says heavily, "to mourn our losses without being preyed upon by outsiders." Turning to Eliana, "I recognize that the choice you made today must have been a difficult one, and we will not spread tales of your involvement here. But it would be best for everyone if you left, and did not return."

Nod.

"That can be arranged," says Stalas. "We just need those papers and then we can get out of here. Eliana, he mentioned they were in his office...?"

"That door over there. You... probably won't fit. I'll be right back."

She returns very shortly, bearing a stack of papers and some books.

"Yeah, that's among the problems of the golem suit. All right, let's go."

Yes, the sooner they're gone, the better.

"'Among'? What are the others?"

Out they go.

"I can't sleep while wearing it - I also don't need to sleep while wearing it, so that's actually been useful once or twice - and for the first night or two after I take it off I have absolutely brutal nightmares, which as a member of a species that doesn't ordinarily dream was tremendous fun to find out, let me tell you."

"That must relate to the lyrium somehow. You said it was that which allowed you to operate the suit, yes? Expanding or even instantiating a connection to the Fade."

"You'd think! But Metella checked and I don't show up in the Fade when I'm having lyrium nightmares."

He pauses in an alley to take off the golem suit and hand it to Hesta. Hesta and Kador go off together with Clare, perhaps to take a more discreet route back to wherever they're all going.

"That sounds like an entirely fascinating phenomenon. I now wish that I had studied dwarfs more closely before now, to better understand this."

"I have got to introduce you to Caridin's apprentice, I bet you'd have amazing conversations about fascinating phenomena."

"Caridin? Wasn't he a, what do you call them, Paragon?"

He laughs.

"Yes, Paragon Caridin, creator of the Anvil of the Void. He spent the last thousand years alone in a cave as a ten-foot-tall steel golem, and during my brief time in exile on false charges of kinslaying I found him and dragged him back to Orzammar where he is now happily catching up to the last thousand years of engineering advances, because that is just the kind of life I lead."

"I look forward to what else I might see traveling with you."

"It's an adventure."

"And how," murmurs Metella.

"Is it some sort of magnetism, do you think? What avenues of investigation have you pursued?"

"I think it's a combination of several factors," says Metella. "I might summarize it as 'competence and audacity'. The audacity to try things no one in their right mind would expect to succeed at, and the competence to succeed anyway. And that's how you end up discovering lost Paragons and fighting dragons and climbing ogres."

Stalas snickers. "Listen, if you had to fight as many ogres as I have, you'd develop a technique too!"

"I have a technique."

"Yes, well, mine works in enclosed spaces."

To Eliana, he explains, "Sorry, it's a long-running argument. Metella thinks the way I fight ogres is ridiculous. I think having the ground open up and swallow her enemies is intimidating at the expense of practicality."

"Do darkspawn understand fear? And I think if you are encountering ogres in enclosed spaces, you must have pressing concerns besides the overall practicality of any one technique."

Stalas laughs.

"What a refreshing perspective. Yes, actually, they do, or at least they can be made to with a sufficiently persuasive argument."

"I admit I'm not totally unmoved by the intimidation value, but really it's a matter of efficiency. I've been refining my telekinesis since I was six and it's still 'precision, power, speed, pick two'. Having my enemies swallowed by the earth is an example of picking the last two. And the more animate something is by itself, the harder it is to affect with telekinesis, so it actually is easier to move the ground than the people."

"That's an interesting restriction. It's not a school of magic I'm very experienced with."

"It's normally too inefficient to be worth seriously pursuing, but I was a very stubborn six-year-old. I wouldn't recommend anyone make a serious attempt to pick it up as a practical discipline if they have other things they'd like to do with the next five years of their life."

"Noted. We have complementary strengths, the sort of magic I have specialized in does very well at affecting the living."

"Before the Blight, I intended to one day be First Enchanter of Ferelden's Circle, so there are things it would not have been prudent for me to study. I'd be absolutely fascinated to discuss magical theory with you whenever we have the time."

"I would enjoy that. Stalas tells me you have undertaken some investigation into the unique properties of his blood. I may be able to shed further light on the mystery."

"I can show you my notes back at Arl Eamon's estate."

"We're all staying there at present," Stalas explains, "and you're welcome to join us if you don't have an alternate arrangement in place. There's more than enough room."

"The warehouse also served as our living quarters. I would be happy to join you at the Arl's estate."

"All right."

To the Redcliffe estate they go.

"Elissa will want to see those papers we retrieved. She's working on getting all the political problems out of our way so we can take care of the Blight."

"Where is she?"

"Probably in her office, and if she's not there, we can leave her the contract with a nice little note."

Once inside the estate, he leads the way to a small office on the ground floor. The door is ajar. He knocks.

"Stalas! Come in! I hear you made a new friend!"

He steps inside.

"Word travels fast! Elissa, this is Eliana Fabil. Eliana, this is Elissa Cousland, Warden-Commander of Ferelden."

"Warden-Commander. I was told you would find this document of interest." She steps forward to place the papers on the desk. "Details of the agreement between Regent Loghain and Magister Caladrius, gold in exchange for unrestricted slaving activity in the alienage."

"The man just insists on continuing to sabotage himself. It's almost tragic," she says, pulling the papers toward her. "Thanks, I'm sure this will be immensely useful. And please feel free to call me Elissa. I think it'd be a bit silly of me to stand on ceremony when I command at most two and a half Wardens."

"How can one be half a Warden?"

"Wardens can sense darkspawn. I can too, but not nearly as well."

"You are just a continual font of fascination, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes I am. Want to go have that conversation with Metella about my bizarre magical properties?"

"Yes."

"Let's do that, then. See you, Elissa."

And off they go through the arl's estate. There's Hesta and Kador, playing some kind of game with a flat stone board and stone pieces. There's Clare, fletching arrows. There's a blond elf with a facial tattoo, reading a book and idly spinning a dagger in one hand.

It's certainly a varied collection of people they've got here.

Yes it is.

Metella's room is all the way at the back of the building. Stalas knocks.

She opens the door, papers in hand. "Found my notes!"

"We were just coming to inquire."

"Come on in. Has he got around to explaining why he has lyrium in his blood?"

"No, I just made a joke about Orzammar politics and left it at that. I can give you the whole story if you think it would be useful background information; up to you how much politics I include."

"My background knowledge of dwarven politics is that you have a King and an Assembly, roughly similar to the Archon and the Magisterium. The King is chosen by the Assembly, same as the Archon."

"True as far as it goes. But in practice the Assembly almost always elects a son of the previous King. The politics that made my life so interesting weren't primarily royal, though. See, dwarves have trouble having children, and nobles like to have heirs. So if a woman of any caste bears the son of a male noble, she and her child and her immediate family all get to join his household as nobles themselves, and there's an entire industry in finding girls who don't have better prospects and getting them set up to go seduce nobles, then pretending to be their uncle or whatever if they succeed. The girls are called noble hunters; my mother was one. When she got pregnant with me, her sponsor's rival had her poisoned. Really nastily - there was darkspawn taint involved. She tried all kinds of crazy things to cure it, the exact details of which are lost to history because she died giving birth to me and didn't take notes; but there was definitely lyrium involved, because here I am."

"I wouldn't naively expect lyrium to react well to the taint. But I suppose you are a dwarf, that complicates things. Do you know anything else about what may have been tried?"

He shakes his head. "All I know is the results, and even those occasionally still turn up surprises. I didn't know I could sense darkspawn until the first time I was near one."

"Hm. Can I look at those notes?"

"Certainly."

Notes! There are a fair few pages here. Metella's handwriting is very neat, and her notes are very well organized.

"These are very thorough, for a layperson. Now, I know you wouldn't be familiar with these studies, but," and then she compares the power profile of pure blood of various species at different dilutions, and the way that compares to regular lyrium potions, and what implications that might have for the uses of Stalas's blood.

Metella's notes compare the power profile of Stalas's blood to several varieties of lyrium potion, and also to Stalas's blood at different dates. She has concluded that his blood isn't just infused with lyrium but self-renewing with it; otherwise, at the estimated concentration of lyrium originally in Stalas's blood and estimated volume of blood normally in Stalas's body, they would already have noticed a decline in power from how much blood he has lost in assorted fights. His blood is not quite as good as a very low-quality lyrium potion, but that still puts it in an entirely different class from normal blood as far as raw power. Not being familiar with blood magic, she of course couldn't speculate about more specific possible uses.

There's also a study on the way he can subsist on lyrium fumes or by wearing the golem suit: descriptions of the effects of each, approximate measurements of how many lungfuls of lyrium fumes translate to how long spent without the need to eat or drink or sleep. An attempt to quantify the strength of the nightmares, which mostly concludes that they don't meaningfully vary in strength, then preserves some of Stalas's colourful descriptions for posterity.

And then the last section has tests on how well he can sense darkspawn and how this compares to the three available Grey Wardens; his range is not much worse than theirs, but he's almost completely unable to tell direction, which Wardens easily can.

Metella is interested to hear Eliana's perspective on all this!

There have been cases where blood magic and lyrium potions where used together, when something truly impressive needed to be achieved. Done correctly, the effect of the combination is closer to multiplicative than additive. She suspects that having the lyrium mixed into the blood and biologically generated from the same source will produce similar results. (She wants to try it.)

The lyrium fumes thing seems to imply that he can somehow convert mana directly to life energy. Which would be a real breakthrough, if they could replicate it. Investigate how, if at all, that interacts with conventional magic healing and dwarf resistance to same. Not her area of expertise. Neither are dreams, one of the books she rescued from Caladrius has a small section on the subject, may or may not turn up anything of use there.

It's not obvious to her where the darkspawn sense comes from, do they know anything about why the Wardens can do it?

"Becoming a Grey Warden involves controlled exposure to the darkspawn taint. It kills about a quarter of everyone who tries, but in those who live, the result is someone who can sense darkspawn and kill Archdemons."

"So it's likely to do with the taint present in you. Come to think of it, that may make working directly with your blood tricky. I wonder if there is a way to- isolate it somehow. Separate it from the rest."

"Isolate what, the darkspawn taint out of Stalas's blood? If you had a way to remove the taint from things, that would be enormously useful for more than just interesting theoretical research. Much as I love interesting theoretical research."

"Mm, I suppose it would. I'd need Warden blood to experiment with, and likely darkspawn samples as well."

"I bet we can manage that. Stalas? How do you feel about more experiments?"

"Sure, why not."

He laughs.

"Now, or later?"

"No time like the present, is there?"

"Sure, sure. What are you planning to test, exactly?"

"First I would need to determine if the darkspawn taint is caused by an additional thing mixed into what is already present, like salt dissolved in water, or if it's more like a deformity of what naturally occurs, like a man with a harelip. There are several possible avenues to pursue from there, but that information is needed first."

"Should we go find some darkspawn to butcher, or will me and the Wardens do for now?"

"I should be able to get an idea of what I'm looking at from just the Wardens'."

"All right."

Metella is happy to produce a blood sample, and to go get two more from the other Wardens if Eliana thinks variety would be useful.

Variety will help to be sure she actually finds the relevant thing.

Here are three samples!

Running these tests will last well into the night.

Stalas shows her to a room she can claim as her own, and then breathes lyrium fumes and stays up all night reading the arl's books, so he's around if she'd like to discuss her results.

Shortly before midnight, she finds him.

"I can't find any contaminants. Filtering is out, I will need a way to combat the taint directly."

"Fun!" he says. His eyes and veins are glowing faintly blue. "Any thoughts on methods?"

"Not yet. I need to know more about the progression of the infection. Darkspawn samples, and ideally ghouls as well."

"Ghouls are going to be hard to come by. You can have some of mine if you think it'd do you any good, and I can take Hesta and Kador out and see if we can catch a stray darkspawn."

...He'd probably veto turning a person into a ghoul deliberately.

"A sample of your blood would be useful, yes. If you cannot find a ghoul easily, do not trouble too much over it. I ought to be able to do without. And unless the arl has an apothecary's laboratory somewhere, I shall need to have some specialized glassware blown."

"Tell me what you need and I'll take care of it," he says cheerfully. "I like having a problem to solve. Gives me an excuse to avoid sleeping for a while longer."

She has a list of instruments and specifications that they should be made to.

"I'll see what I can do!"

And he traipses off to collect Hesta and Kador and go darkspawn-hunting.

In the morning, there is plenty of darkspawn blood - neatly labelled and carefully sealed in bottles - and some of the glassware she wanted waiting for her outside her room, with a note saying he'll be going out to pick up the rest that afternoon.

Then she can take all of that carefully inside, and begin setting up. Shortly, she determines that she's still missing a few pieces she needs, and also that she has not eaten since yesterday. She goes to look for food.

Elissa is having breakfast with the blond elf from yesterday and a quiet, serious-faced human Eliana hasn't seen before.

"It'd all look very different if I ruled the world, of course," she's saying as Eliana approaches. "And here's Stalas's new friend! Good morning, Eliana! If you're looking for breakfast, you've found it!"

"Good morning. That is indeed what I was looking for."

"Are you joining us, or just taking some food and going? Either way is fine."

"Continuing work on my project must await the arrival of the rest of the glassware. I will join you, if you do not mind."

"Not at all; have a seat. And some introductions." She indicates each of her companions in turn, the quiet human and then the blond elf. "These are Warden Ambrose, my fiancé, and Zevran Arainai, my bodyguard."

"A pleasure to meet you," says Zevran, bowing slightly in his seat. He has a strong Antivan accent.

"Good morning," Ambrose adds, with a faint, shy smile.

She nods acknowledgement to each, getting herself a plate and a seat.

"I confess myself somewhat surprised that a Grey Warden needs a bodyguard who is not himself a Warden."

"Well, some fool keeps hiring assassins to kill her, you see," says Zevran with a little laugh.

"Only the once so far. But it was memorable. Why Teyrn Loghain is so determined to kill all the Grey Wardens he can find in the middle of a Blight, I really can't fathom."

"He was a strong supporter of Ferelden independence. Perhaps he believes he needs no help."

"If only he were right about that."

"History has amply proved that lesson."

"Yes."

Mm, breakfast.

"Are you interested in the political situation here at all?"

"More knowledge is always better than less."

"A perspective I tend to share. All right. How much do you already know?"

"Loghain was friendly with the father of the previous king, he served in an advisory capacity to both, and his daughter was married to Cailan. After Cailan's death at Ostagar, he took over the Regency. Some of the nobility do not much like his rule."

"All true," she says. "So, the next important piece of political background here is that Ambrose is Cailan's half-brother."

"Unacknowledged bastard?"

He nods.

"If Loghain wasn't such an unmitigated disaster, I'd be content to let things be. But he is well on his way to burning his own country to the ground, in the middle of a Blight no less. So Arl Eamon is calling a Landsmeet and we're going to point out a few of the stupid things Loghain has done and see if we can get Ambrose crowned King. Your contribution is deeply appreciated, by the way."

"Small wonder he sent assassins."

"He sent the assassins when the only thing we'd done to provoke him was survive Ostagar and remind a few people of the Grey Warden treaties. I'm not even completely sure he knew Ambrose's ancestry at the time; the assassins seemed to think I was the primary target."

"If he had met you once and knew you would be opposing his policies, that is sufficient justification."

...She laughs. (Zevran chuckles too.)

"Thank you! I'm flattered!"

This is going well. Breakfast was a good decision.

And the food is good as well. Ferelden cuisine is different from what she is used to, fewer peppers. But still enjoyable.

"So now you know approximately what we're up to on the political level. Oh, I'm also the rightful Teyrna of Highever, one of Loghain's associates murdered my family and took our lands, but that's a secondary concern and I'm probably going to end up finding someone to pass the teyrnir off to because being Queen and Warden-Commander will be taking up quite enough of my time already."

"I would imagine so. You certainly don't think small."

"I like to get things done."

"So I see." She turns to Ambrose. "And you? Any plans of your own?"

"I plan to rule Ferelden competently. Anything further will have to wait until I'm assured of managing that."

"Good luck to you."

"Thank you."

"I was wondering, might I ask what the Joining entails? Metella said something about controlled exposure to the darkspawn taint."

"There is a - substance - made using darkspawn blood and other things. The recipe is secret and we don't currently have access to it. Prospective Wardens drink it, and then they either die or become Wardens."

She nods. "I ask because the process by which Wardens survive seems like it may very well be relevant to reversing the corruption."

"I'm sorry we can't be more help, then."

"I still have Stalas to work from. What happened to him must have been at least loosely similar, if in effect and not execution."

"As far as I know, the children of Wardens are not born Wardens themselves. It's rare for Wardens to have children at all. I'm not sure what implications that has for Stalas's situation."

"Finding out will be an adventure."

"I suppose so."

"Not exactly the same as killing dragons and bringing peace to a divided land, I grant you. But I find it just as rewarding."

"I prefer the kind of adventure that involves expanding our understanding of the world, honestly. In order to bring peace, you must first find yourself confronted with a war, and those make messes."

"This is true."

"Whereas to expand your understanding of the world, all you need is a question and a means of answering it. Much neater that way."

"Usually. Depending on the means."

"True. Tidier in principle, then, at least."

The remains of breakfast are suddenly very interesting.

It is of course entirely reasonable to be interested in such an excellent breakfast.

Shortly thereafter, Eliana makes her goodbyes and returns to her room. She can at least take some preliminary steps with what she has now. She spends an hour or so on that, then wanders out to see if the arl keeps a library.

He does! Metella is there, reading his books.

"Any recommendations?"

"Well, that depends on your taste. Personally, I'm fascinated by this series about the history of the Avvar."

"The southern barbarians? Or, well, the more southerly of the southern barbarians."

"Yes, those."

"We only say that because a pretense of cultural superiority makes us feel better about the fact they successfully resisted conquest."

"That's a plausible analysis," says Metella.

Eliana smiles, and lets Metella return to her reading. She browses the selection, eventually settling on a semi-historical collection of tales about King Calenhad and the Ferelden unification.