"He's dead, he's really dead. I can't believe that mustachioed bastard is gone", Raleigh muttered to himself as he stabbed at the embers of the large fire the trio stood around. Having witnessed first hand the death of a Grey Warden, any childhood or tavern fantasy of the nigh invincible Blight-fighters was now sundered for the disheveled stocky Elf.
Alistair's face twisted up, "Have some respect! Stroud was... he was, I suppose, a good man. He's our leader and deserves to be called better than a - a bastard. So... yeah."
Raleigh shrugged in response and continued to jostle the haphazardly assembled funerary pyre.
"And I can't believe he was just getting a drink", Bethany blurted as she snatched the stick from the Elf's gore-coated hand. "I mean, sure my Uncle Gamlen would SAY he was just getting a drink when we'd catch him inside the Rose but Stroud was just there to drink."
"And now he's dead", Raleigh interjected.
Bethany swatted at him with the the stick to which the rogue didn't bother dodging. The blackened tip left a sharp black score mark across his cheek. Raleigh didn't flinch from the strike, but Alistair did. He'd received similar corrective treatment during his early years before he was put into full metal in Templar training.
"Besides why are we burning his body to begin with? In Nevarra we plop 'em in the ground or lock 'em away in some dusty tomb if they were worth a damn. But maybe since he was Orlesian and you all are Fereldans this is some kinda, I dunno, ceremonial revenge?"
That was it for Alistair. He shucked the shield off his arm and dropped his blade, before storming over towards the inconsiderate Elf.
"Listen here you - you. ERGH! Can't you show one iota of respect for the dead? We were here on business for Weisshaupt and now we no longer have our LEADER! And I've had enough of your disingenuous asser-"
"Alistair!"
"WHAT IS IT - MAGE?"
The Senior Warden drew out the final word of his question as if it could quiet or halt the misdirected anger they carried. Bethany's eyes widened at the response she received for just a brief moment before narrowing them into a dead stare.
"I'm - yes, Bethany?" Alistair attempted to recover but his companion's features remained unchanged.
"We do have a leader, and its you. You can stand around moping about Stroud's demise but do not insinuate we are without leadership. You are our Leader, whether you're acting like it or not, that is how it is and right now you need to be thinking about what we are going to do with the map Stroud procured from his contact at the Blooming Rose", she replied coolly.
The rogue took the opportunity to slip away from the humans and their emotional see-sawing. For once he was honestly curious about the burning of Stroud's remains, well the bodily remains, as his kit was quickly divvied up between the three of them for the march back to wherever Alistair decided. He watched on as the taller man paced back and forth before the flames, the blonde's head ticked from side to side, seeming to be weighing Bethany's statement.
Bethany, on the other-hand, stood near their de facto leader her face impassive. He'd seen that exact look earlier when they had run across her brother during a dockside skirmish. The Elder Hawke mentioned the loss of their Mother, but it didn't even faze the girl. Of the bits of the Mage's life he was familiar with it seemed life handed her an empty sack, filled it with lemons, then beat her with it. He didn't pity her, no no, if he learned one thing in his stays in the gaol it was to always do your own time and to Raleigh the Order was just another sentence to be served.
"Amaranthine!" Alistair's declaration broke the quiet.
"What?", Bethany absently asked.
"We'll head to Vigil's Keep and request aid from Am- the Warden Commander."
"Ferelden, really?"
"Its just a hop, skiff, and a jump from Kirkwall. Much closer than the graveyard we're stationed. And so much closer than the Anderfels."
Alistair cast a slightly hopeful look at the Elf's direction. Raleigh shrugged, "I can't swim but you're certainly not lookin' at me to volunteer to be your canoe or anything, so... why not, right?"
"But what about the other Wardens back at our-", the dark-haired Mage paused her train of thought, her features scrunched a bit as she mulled things over. "Sod it. Amaranthine holds no memories good or bad for me. And I guess it makes sense we should go to where - our kind of support is closest."
Alistair retrieved his shield and sword from the ground and unceremoniously strapped them onto his back, "Its settled then, back to Kirkwall, then - Ferelden."