Glancing over Rannon, Celica gave a small smile through the twisted pain her face displayed. “Better listen to him, I’m not in much shape to lead anyone, currently. When you head out, though, I do have a request.”

“Deliver them retribution for my men.”

She turned, then, to the journal left by Daeron. What secrets would it hold about the Architect? Would it show that her decision was a good one, or had she made a grievous error in judgement that day? Peeling the front cover open, she dared to begin reading.

[hr]

The darkspawn army had vanished entirely into the dark mist of The Verge and had been there now for a good twenty minutes. Wardens everywhere took stock of the dead, helped the wounded and proceeded to get re-armed for any additional incoming attack. What they wanted to do more than anything was to descend upon the weakened forces like a tidal wave and cleanse the depths below, but with Celica out of action and no new chain of command yet emerging, no-one dared to act. Tensions among the wardens ran high, however, and they hung around twitchy and desperate for a chance to wreak havok upon their oppressors.