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The announcement about the warden-commander’s arrival nearly brought Skyhold’s walls crumbling down. Adaar could hear the thunder of feet as everyone with breath still left in their body dropped what they were doing, striving to catch a glimpse of the legendary Hero of Ferelden. Leliana appeared at his elbow where she had not been a moment before, and even she seemed aglow with excitement.
“We should have the war room prepared!” she announced, and waved at Josephine, who was halfway down the front hall, and froze, as if contemplating, for a moment, pretending she had not heard Leliana. Then, duty-bound, she turned and went to make things just so for the warden-commander. “It is a sign of how much the Grey Wardens respect you, and the Inquisition,” Leliana told Adaar, “that she has come to retrieve Rainier herself.”
“Couldn’t have been that she was just in the area?” Adaar asked, and tried not to smile when Leliana looked up at him.
“It’s possible,” she allowed, and seemed too distracted to banter further. “But I think she wants to meet you.” They went down to the front gates to greet Warden-Commander Aeducan, but by the time they made it down, she was seeing her mount to the stable.
“—icicles on my—” a male voice was saying as Adaar and Leliana approached the stables.
“I know, Zev,” came the exasperated interruption. “It’s cold. We’re in the mountains.”
“Warden-Commander,” Leliana greeted her as the dwarf emerged. For a moment, Warden-Commander Aeducan just stared, then her mouth twisted up in a crooked kind of grin. Cunning blue eyes looked up at them from a wide face, and Adaar did not recognize the tattoos she bore. Something dwarven, possibly something royal. He’d heard the stories of how Aeducan had once been the celebrated princess of Orzammar, before joining the Grey Wardens.
“By the Stone, Leliana!” She strode over to Leliana and they clasped forearms in a hearty greeting, Aeducan giving Leliana’s arm a good shake. “I heard you were playing spymaster for the Inquisition. I imagine you learned a great deal as Left Hand of the Divine!” The warden-commander’s hair was bound into what looked like hundreds of tiny braids, all gathered into a bun to keep out of her way in a fight.
“It’s good to see you, Sereda,” Leliana said, smiling with a softness Adaar had not yet seen from her. She gripped Aeducan’s arm, then crouched to pull her into an embrace, and smirked up at Zevran over Aeducan’s shoulder. “And Zevran too? I did not think you would come this far south.”
“I go where my lady goes,” the elf replied with a flourishing bow. He bore a tattoo as well, a curving line over his left cheek, up and around the corner of his twinkling eye. Beneath it, Adaar could just catch a glimpse of the warped skin of a scar.
“Complaining all the while,” Aeducan said as Leliana withdrew.
“Only where it’s appropriate,” Zevran said. He embraced Leliana as well, and kissed her cheeks.
“I am glad you could both come,” Leliana said. “This is Inquisitor Adaar.”
“The pleasure is mine.” If Warden-Commander Aeducan thought anything of his being vashoth, not a flicker of it showed on her face.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said. “I think everyone around here considers it a miracle of the greatest order that you’ve come to see us yourself.” Aeducan exhaled sharply through her nose, and Zevran grinned.
“The Hero of Ferelden never arrives quietly,” Leliana snickered, and Adaar felt that for a moment, there was a glimpse of a younger Leliana, as she might have been when she traveled with Warden-Commander Aeducan, and the fate of Ferelden hung in the balance, before she had retreated to the shadows, and become like her ravens.
“I’m well accustomed to that, at least,” Aeducan said, gesturing for Leliana to lead them on. “But I imagine it’s much the same for you,” she added, looking to Adaar.
“It was like that for me before I was the inquisitor,” he said frankly, thinking to coax a smile from the Commander of the Grey, but her face didn’t change. Zevran, her elven companion, gave a short laugh though.
“Being Qunari or vashoth in Ferelden will do that,” she said, and Adaar thought Leliana must have written her ahead of time about him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that; he wasn’t used to being worth the space on someone’s parchment, unless they were writing directly to him. He wondered if Cassandra wrote anyone about him (probably not—she hated writing letters).
When they arrived at the main hall, Josephine was hurrying down from her office, and she came up short when she saw the warden-commander.
“This is our ambassador, Lady Josephine Montilyet,” Leliana announced, gesturing to her.
“Warden-Commander,” Josephine breathed. “It is an honor.”
“The honor of making such a lovely acquaintance is ours, surely,” Zevran said before Aeducan could respond, taking Josephine’s hand for a kiss. “I did not think to find an Antivan beauty in so inhospitable a place,” he purred.
“This is Zevran,” Aeducan said, waving a hand at him, as if that explained it all.
“You’re Antivan as well!” Josephine looked only briefly surprised.
“I have not been there in some time,” Zevran replied. They had exchanged a flurry of Antivan, and then Josephine said in the common tongue: “There’s been some excitement there lately. Black Shadow has struck again. The Crows won’t say so, but everyone knows they’re worried.”
“Is that so?” Zevran flashed a saccharine smile that seemed somehow off, like a cake with a razor buried in the filling. “Someone must be very bold indeed.”
“Or boneheaded,” Aeducan opined.
“Well. My apologies, inquisitor,” Josephine said, shaking off the surprise of meeting a compatriot in such a place. “The war room is at your disposal; the recruit is waiting for you there.” Warden-Commander Aeducan nodded briskly. “We have rooms prepared for your stay as well.”
“There,” Aeducan said at once, looking up at Zevran. “Go sit by the fire. I shall join you when this is done.” For a moment, presented with respite from what had almost certainly been a long and wearying trip, the elf hesitated, and Adaar saw his eyes move around the room, as though to take stock of it, before giving a slight bow to the warden-commander.
“I will await you with as little patience as ever,” he promised. Something, perhaps a hint at a smile, twitched on Aeducan’s face, and she turned to the war room.
“Let’s see my new recruit,” she said to Adaar.
Despite what he had done, Adaar had a momentary flash of pity for Blackwall (he was still training himself to think of the man as Rainier)—sitting alone in a room waiting for a dressing down from one’s personal hero was not an enviable place in which to be.
He had only a brief glimpse of Blackwall at the far side of the war room, by the windows, with that same hangdog look he’d been wearing since returning to Skyhold, before Warden-Commander Aeducan spoke up.
“Thom Rainier.” Her voice boomed, especially from such a small body (in height, at least—the breadth of her shoulders and thickness of her arms left no questions about whether or not she could really swing the hammer on her back), and she strode around the table to where he stood. Blackwall immediately straightened up, folding his hands behind him as Aeducan looked him over.
“Warden-Commander Aeducan,” he greeted her quietly. “You have honored me by coming.”
“So you’re the one who has been wearing Warden-Constable Blackwall’s name,” she said, and Rainier looked down, but held fast. “I’ve been hearing quite a lot about him, these last few years.” Adaar tipped his head curiously. “Seems every town he’s been to has some praise for him. If he’s not single-handedly taking on troublesome bears or errant darkspawn, he’s carving toys for children, or helping old widows repair their rooves. Am I correct that it was you, and not Blackwall, who was responsible for Red Mile?”
Rainier was waiting for the condemnation, Adaar could see it. But he had no choice but to play along with Aeducan until she got there, so he gave a brief, uneasy nod.
“Yes, that was me.”
“Do you know how many lives you saved there, Rainier?” she asked.
“I couldn’t say, precisely.”
“Neither can I, but I know it was a great many, and I know I could not have gotten there in time to do it.” Aeducan looked him up and down again. “You did a stupid thing, taking Blackwall’s name. But it was with good intentions, as far as I can see. The Grey Wardens have always taken in criminals; you would be far from the first to join us for a new start. The Grey Wardens can be a future for those who feel they have lost everything; who see no path forward.” There was a firmness to Aeducan’s voice, a set to her jaw, that made Adaar feel almost like he ought to sign up himself.
“We Wardens, we do what we do under oath. It is a sacrifice, to bind your life to the Grey Wardens: it’s in our very motto. But you worked against the darkspawn with no obligation,” she went on. “That takes a particular kind of courage. Leliana tells me that Blackwall meant to put you through the Joining, is that so?”
“Yes, warden-commander,” Rainier answered. “We were set upon, and Blackwall killed, before he was able to do it.” Aeducan nodded.
“But you kept fighting in his name.” Rainier shifted his weight, a rapid debate taking place on his face, before he responded.
“I didn’t want the world to lose a good man,” he said. “Didn’t think anyone would miss old Thom Rainier.” A shake of the warden-commander’s head, like she was still wrapping her mind around an identity stolen out of generous intent. “And I had no proof he had recruited me. I was afraid if I went to the Wardens with my story, they would…I was afraid they’d think I killed Blackwall.” Not unreasonable, Adaar supposed, given his background.
“I also understand that you confessed to the crimes of the mercenary Thom Rainier, in Val Royeaux,” Aeducan said. “I speak of the hired murder of Lord Vincent Callier along with his wife and children. Is that so?” Rainier just nodded, mute in his shame, and Josephine stepped in to elaborate.
“We never would have known the truth if Bl—Rainier had not done what he did,” she said. “When he heard one of his men was being executed in Val Royeaux, he left the Inquisition to confess to spare this man.” The subject of Rainier’s morality and general worth of character had been up for much debate among the Inquisition since Adaar had brought him back, but he felt a twinge of pride for how Josephine kept a neutral tone and stuck strictly to the facts, without letting any personal views color her words. Adaar had declined to invite Cassandra to this particular meeting, which they both agreed was best.
“You put your life on the line for one of them,” Aeducan said. “Did you know the inquisitor would spare you the noose?” She shifted her gaze to Adaar, who silently shook his head.
“I’m not sure it was the right decision,” Rainier said.
“So you would have died, then?” Rainier looked down at the floor, then lifted his eyes to Warden-Commander Aeducan’s clear, sharp gaze.
“I did a terrible thing, and I was happy to wallow in self-pity and make nothing of myself the rest of my life, until I met Warden Blackwall,” he said, his coarse voice thick and heavy. “He made me see that there was—a part of me that—wanted to do better. To atone. Taking on his name…was part of that. But when I heard, I thought…how can I claim to be a better man, how can I say I’m trying to do better, and then sit by and let this man die for a command I gave?” He shook his head. “I’ve had enough dodging responsibility. Warden Blackwall died to save me…the best way I could live up to his name was to do the same for someone else.”
“It was a foolish thing to do,” she said. “Taking his identity. But I see your reasoning. Now, though, it is time to let the past be the past. What Gordon Blackwall did, what the mercenary Rainier did…those things are over, part of history. Now, it is time to consider what Warden Rainier’s intent will be, what legacy he will leave behind. What story he will tell to his ancestors after his death.
“I’ve seen blind ambition, and naked bloodlust, and pure, rapacious folly, and I don’t see that in you, and I haven’t seen it in what the Wardens have heard of Blackwall’s actions since you took up his name. I could tell you the Wardens are in no place to be turning away recruits, particularly those who have already trained in war, but even if we had the luxury of being discriminating, I should still be pleased to welcome you among our ranks, Thom Rainier.” Warden-Commander Aeducan thrust out a hand, and for a moment Rainier just gaped, barely keeping his jaw in place, then hastily grasped her hand.
“Welcome to the Grey Wardens,” she said. There was no smile—Adaar was getting the sense that wasn’t a frequent occurrence with her—but her face seemed to match her words: she was pleased. And he was surprised to realize he was as well. They had all experienced discomfort with learning the truth about Rainier, but before then, Adaar had trusted him as an honored Grey Warden and a loyal fighting companion. It was almost a relief to hear Aeducan praise him, as if to confirm what Adaar had known of him since his time with the Inquisition.
He had not realized how much he wanted to believe Rainier was a good man.
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am for this chance,” Rainier said, vigorously shaking Warden-Commander Aeducan’s hand.
“And I can’t tell you how grateful I am to recruit a man who knows the butt end of a sword from the point,” she replied. “I trust two days is enough time to gather your things.”
“I am ready to depart at your command, warden-commander,” he said.
“Marvelous.” She turned crisply to Adaar. “Thank you for reaching out to us, inquisitor. I understand Rainier’s time here has been tarnished, but he will do well among the Wardens. I will see to it.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Adaar said candidly. “He has always fought well with us.”
“Then that’s settled,” Aeducan said. She looked to Leliana, who had been on the nose with how business-like Warden-Commander Aeducan was. “I brought something for you, if you have the time.” She pulled a dark bottle out of a pouch at her side and tossed it to the spymaster.
“Dwarven ale?” Leliana said, glancing at the label. She and Aeducan exchanged a look, and a smirk tugged at Leliana’s mouth. “I suppose I have a few minutes free, for an old friend.”
“Zevran’s waiting in whatever quarters Ambassador Montilyet has granted us,” she said.
“Wonderful.”
“Later, if you can spare the attention,” Aeducan said to Adaar, “I would love a look around at your forces.”
“Can do,” Adaar said with a light smile. “But you should take the chance to catch up with Leliana while you can—it’s not often she’s away from her letters and her missives!”
“Rainier,” Aeducan said, giving one last look to the ex-mercenary. “I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning—I want a look at your swordplay before we take to the road.”
“Yes, sir!” The faintest up-curve of Aeducan’s mouth accompanied her exit from the war room, Leliana at her side. Rainier watched her go, blinking like he’d just dodged the noose a second time.
“That went well,” Adaar observed.
“It…it did,” was Rainier’s befuddled reply.
“Congratulations, Thom,” Adaar said, clapping him on the shoulder with one broad hand. “I think you’ve found your calling.”