Spend just an afternoon in Dust Town and you'll be sure to hear the same worn-out witticism from the mouth of at least six different dwarves: "The caste system is great ... as long as you're at the top of it." To most, it's a condemnation of Orzammar society. To you, it's an opportunity. Sure, it's not easy changing one's station, but why seek to supplant a system that benefits those at its top when you may some day be there yourself? Of course, you can't take sole credit for your uncommon ambitions. This whole "noble hunting" idea was Duglin's.
The plan, as the merchant explained it to you a year ago, was simple: Allow him to train you in the arts of music, poetry, conversation, and elocution. Allow him to buy you new clothes, gold caps for your teeth, and satin shoes. Allow him these things for as long as you needed to remember the songs, and walk naturally in corset, and at the end of it, all you must do is win the affections of a noble. The noble falls in love, your life is transported to the Diamond Quarter, you introduce Duglin as your "uncle", and just like that, you, Duglin, and all male children born into your line are forever members of Orzammar's elite.
Honestly, even without the promises of lineage, this arrangement would have been an easy sell. You've always had a rich fascination with all things silver and gold, and your "training" thus far has given you more hair clasps, hand mirrors, and gem-encrusted rings than you could ever have hoped to gain otherwise.
"Pay attention!" Duglin yells. "Today we take you to the Diamond Quarter. Everything must be perfect. You'll be on your own soon."
"Sorry," you mutter, snapping back from your day dreams.
"One more time," he continues. "Finish the poem: Swiftly do stars burn a path across the sky, hast'ning to place one last kiss upon your eye. Tenderly land enfolds you in slumber ... "