By the River of Drakon...

"Normally, in our profession breaking bodies would be suitable. If anything else were required I would find someone more suited to that process. I do not forsee a use for this talent, or wish to see one, but we always have to be diligent and use the weapons available to us for the good of others."

Nygozy took a deep breath, "You are correct but I still do not like using people in such a manner. However, all who come to be wardens make their choice to be such and take the oath."

But she still did not feel fully satisfied with that thought as she remembered Ser Jory's death. The man had no idea what he was getting into, just that it was an honour to be a Grey Warden. He did not know how much of his life would be taken with this or that he would probably have to choose between his wife and child and the wardens. Even though she respected Duncan, in her mind Sir Jory's death was uncalled for. It was noticeable that he would not fit in the wardens' ranks and should have been sent away. At least in her mind this was true. Why waste a life you know should not be there?

Betrayal here lies.

Griffinhart shook his head at the Commander's words. "Would that we all keep our oaths." Not every Warden was at peace with their fate, and he knew that no one but the Wardens knew that fate. The Wardens made sure of such things. He had made sure of such things, with the same surety of hand and hate as he had felled any other darkspawn. Such was Griffinhart's way in the world - either you followed orders, or you deserted. There was no mercy down either path. Not for him.

Frost would eat the graves, with Time. But the memories would always persist, would always lie herein.

Would always lie.