For generations, my family, the Couslands, has stewarded the lands of Highever, earning the loyalty of my people with justice and temperance. When my country was occupied by the Orlesian Empire, my father and grandfather served the embattled kings of my land. Today, my elder brother takes up House Cousland's banner in service to the Crown - not against the men of Orlais, but against the bestial darkspawn rising in the south.
"I trust then that your troops will be here shortly?" The man speaking stood facing the fireplace in the giant hall, hands behind his back.
"I expect they will start arriving tonight, and we can march tomorrow," the other man replied smoothly. "I apologize for the delay, my lord. This is entirely my fault."
"No, no," the first man, Teryn Bryce Cousland, reassured him, turning to face the man. "The appearance of the darkspawn in the south has us all scrambling, doesn't it? I only received the call from the king a few days ago, myself. I'll send my eldest off with my men. You and I will ride tomorrow, just like the old days."
"True," Arl Rendon Howe said dryly, "though we both had less gray in our hair then. And we fought Orlesians, not…monsters."
The teryn laughed lightly. "At least the smell will be the same."
A door on the far end of the hall opened and in walked Castielletielle Cousland, her long silver-blonde hair pulled back in a complicated braid. She walked up to the two men, nodding her hellos.
"I'm sorry pup, I didn't see you there," Bryce said to her. "Howe, you remember my daughter?"
"I see you've become a lovely young woman," Howe said pleasantly. "Pleased to see you again, my dear."
"And you, Arl Howe," Castielle replied politely. "Was I brought here for a reason, father?"
"Yes, actually. Since your brother is leading our forces south and I'm going with the arl, I'm leaving you in charge of the Castle," Bryce explained.
Castielle felt her jaw drop. "What?" she exclaimed. "Why can't I go into battle with you and Fergus?"
"I'm certain you'd more than prove yourself, but I am not willing to deal with your mother if you join the war. She'd kill me if I let you go. She's already twisted into knots about Fergus and me going."
"Let me talk to her," Castielle tried to bargain. "I'll convince her." It was a long shot, knowing her mother, but she had to try.
The teyrn seemed to share her thoughts. "I doubt that," he sighed. "You know your mother, and she made it clear here is no debate. This is no needless task. I ask you to take a great responsibility. Only a token force is remaining here, and you must keep peace in the region. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes? There's also someone you must meet," he added, ignoring Castielle's sour look and turning to look back at a guard standing behind him. "Please, show Duncan in." The guard saluted and walked off.
A minute or two later, the guard reappeared, with a rather intimidating man at his side. He wore plain armor, had his hair pulled back in a ponytail, had a short beard and a single gold earring in one ear. His brown face was lined with age and he had an air of world-weariness and solemnity that belied the laugh-lines around his eyes. As he approached, Castielle couldn't help but distantly think that he looked like a figure she'd once seen in a chantry painting.
"It is an honor to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland," the man said in a soft, reassuring voice.
"Your Lordship, you didn't mention that a Gray Warden would be present," Howe interjected. A Gray Warden? Castielle looked at the man more closely; no wonder he seemed so serious.
"Duncan arrived just recently, unannounced. Is there a problem?" Bryce asked cautiously.
"Of course not," the arl said, chuckling lightly, "but a guest of this stature demands certain protocol. I am at a disadvantage." Despite his smooth words, Castielle couldn't help but notice that Howe seemed nervous.
"We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person, that's true," the teyrn acknowledged. "Pup, Brother Aldous taught you who the Gray Wardens are, I hope?"
Castielle turned to face her father. "He said they were a small order, and are no longer important," she replied. "Of course, with the return of darkspawn, their importance is no longer a question."
Bryce looked shocked. "I apologize, Duncan," he stammered. "That Aldous has some nerve, teaching my children such slanderous nonsense."
"I take no offense. The Gray Wardens are not what we once were," Duncan said good-naturedly.
"I'll not have the Wardens spoken ill of in my household," the teyrn said forcefully. "Without them, the darkspawn would have killed us all in the first Blight. You are the only reason men still live in Thedas."
Bryce stopped, taking in a steadying breath. Once he had calmed somewhat, he continued. "Duncan is looking for recruits before joining us and his fellow Wardens in the south. I believe he's got his eye on Ser Gilmore," he explained.
"If I might be so bold, I would suggest that your daughter is also an excellent candidate," Duncan interjected.
"Honor though that might be, this is my daughter we're talking about," Bryce chuckled.
"Perhaps that would get me into battle," Castielle said dryly. To be honest, the idea of becoming a Gray Warden was less than enthusing, but if it put her in a position where she could do more than babysit the teyrnir, then she was willing to give it a shot.
"That discussion is closed," the teyrn said shortly.
"You did just finish saying that the Gray Wardens are heroes, old friend," Howe pointed out.
"I've not so many children that I'll gladly see them all off to battle. Unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription?" he said pointedly to Duncan. Castielle could tell he was trying to not make the words sound like a challenge, but he was failing.
Duncan shook his head. "Have no fear," he reassured him. "While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I've no intention of forcing the issue."
The teyrn's shoulders sagged with relief. He turned to face Castielle again. "Pup, can you insure that Duncan's requests are seen to while I'm gone?" he asked.
"Don't strain my abilities or anything," she grumbled halfheartedly.
"And don't strain my patience," he scolded. "In the meantime, find Fergus and tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me."
"You're not trying to be rid of me, are you, father?"
"We need to discuss the battle plans in the south. Be a good lass and do as I've asked. We'll talk soon."
Castielle had the self-restraint to hold off on grumbling under her breath until she was at least outside the main hall. She'd barely taken three steps in the general direction of her brother's rooms before a voice interrupted her thoughts.
"There you are!" The ginger man stepped close to her from where he'd waited next to the doorway. "Your mother told me the teyrn had summoned you, so I didn't want to interrupt," he said apologetically. His armor jangled as he reached up to scratch the back of his head.
"Good thing, too, considering father's company," Castielle replied.
"Yes, I saw the arl and the Gray Warden arrive," he said. "I fear your hound has the kitchens in an uproar once again. Nan is threatening to leave."
Castielle waved her hand dismissively. "Nan is just blowing off steam. She's always been like that."
Gilmore shrugged. "Your mother disagrees. She insists you collect the dog, and quickly. You know these mabari hounds. She'll listen to her mistress, but anyone else risks having an arm bitten off."
"She knows better than to hurt anyone," Castielle argued.
"I'm not willing to test that," the knight sighed. "You're quite lucky to have your own mabari war hound, you know. Smart enough not to talk, my father used to say. Of course, that means she's easily bored. Nan swears she confounds her just to amuse herself." Castielle couldn't help but chuckle at the idea. "At any rate, your mother would have me accompany you until the matter is settled. Shall we?"
"To the kitchen, then."
"Just follow the yelling. When Nan's unhappy, she makes sure everyone knows it," Gilmore said dryly.
The two made their way to the kitchen, where they found the old woman ranting loudly.
"Get that bloody mutt out of the larder!" Nan snapped at the two terrified servants.
"But mistress, it won't let us near," one of them, an elven woman, protested.
"If I can't get into that larder, I'll skin both of you useless elves, I swear it!" Nan screeched.
"Uh, calm down, good woman. We've come to help," Gilmore interrupted, using as soothing a voice as he was capable.
The woman turned, her bloodshot eyes falling upon the two of them. "You! And you! Your bloody mongrel keeps getting into my larder! That beast should be put down!"
Castielle refrained from rolling her eyes; this whole day was giving her a headache. "Maybe you should be put down" she said tersely.
Nan practically swelled with rage. "What?" she demanded. "That monster is in my larder, slobbering all over the bacon, and you're insulting me!?"
"Oh dear," one of the servants fussed. "Mistress, calm down, please-"
"That's it! I'll quit!" Nan shouted. "Inform the teyrna, I'll go cook at some nice estate in the Bannorn."
"Nan please!" Gilmore entreated. "We'll get the dog, calm down."
"Just get her gone," the old woman snapped. "I've enough to worry about with a Castle full of hungry soldiers!"
Castielle brushed past her impatiently and pushed the larder door open. She was greeted by the sight of her massive mabari nosing through some sacks and sniffing loudly. The dog pulled back and barked at the pile.
Gilmore sighed heavy. "Look at that mess. How did she even get in here?"
The mabari's tongue lolled out in an approximation of a smile, and she barked excitedly at the two. Castielle knelt and scratched behind the mabari's ears, earning a happy sigh from the canine.
"What a smart girl you are, Kitty" Castielle crooned. "Oh, yes, you are!"
"Oh, encourage the hound why don't you?" For the first time, Gilmore sounded exasperated. "No wonder she keeps giving Nan fits."
Kitty barked again and spun around, bouncing from side to side. Her stub of a tail wiggled frantically, wiggling her hind end in lieu of an actual tail. Castielle's eyes narrowed a little. Was the dog trying to tell her something?
Gilmore seemed to sense it too. "She does seem like she's trying to tell you something," he suggested. His head whipped around to stare at the sacks as a scratching sound came from behind it. The sacks shifted, and no less than a dozen giant rats burst forth, red eyes gleaming and sharp little teach already nipping at their ankles.
Castielle shouted in surprise as she kicked the nearest one away out of reflex. She only had a dagger on her, which limited her, but thankfully Gilmore was fully suited and armed in his knight regalia. He and Kitty slew most of the rats, with Castielle making sure they didn't escape back down the hole they'd chewed in the woodwork of the wall.
It took them just a couple of minutes to kill all the rats, and when they were done Castielle carefully wiped the rat blood off her dagger blade with a rag. Kitty barked happily, her face a bloody mess. Castielle made a face at the sight, and started wiping the mabari's face too.
"Giant rats? It's like the start of every bad adventure tale my grandfather used to tell," Gilmore said breathlessly. "Your hound must have chased them in through their holes. Looks like she wasn't raiding the larder after all." Kitty barked in confirmation.
"It certainly looks that way," Castielle said thoughtfully.
"Those looked like rats from the Korcari Wilds. Best not to tell Nan. She's upset enough as it is," the knight suggested. "But seeing as you've got your mabari well in hand, I'll be on my way. I'm to prepare for the arrival of more of the arl's men." The knight turned and walked away with a wave goodbye. Castielle followed him out of the larder in time to see him disappear out the kitchen doorway.
"There she is, as brazen as you please! Licking her chops after helping herself to the roast, no doubt!" Nan groused.
"Actually, she was defending your larder from rats. Big ones," Castielle said blithely. One of the servants gasped.
"W-what? Rats? Not the large gray ones!" she said, eyes wide.
"They'll rip you to shreds, they will!" the other servant added. Both the elves had gone pale in the face and clutched at each other for comfort.
"See, now you've gone and scared the servants," Nan scolded. "I expect those filthy things are dead?"
"My faithful war hound made sure it's safe," Castielle reassured her. There was no harm in letting the dog take the credit. This time.
"I bet that dog led those rats in there to begin with," Nan sighed. Kitty let out a whine, and the older woman clucked her tongue. "Oh, don't even start with the sad eyes. I'm immune to your so-called charms." Kitty whined again, and tilted her head entreatingly. Nan sighed again, and bent down to set some gristle and leftover meat on the ground, which Kitty ate so quickly it seemed she simply inhaled the meat. "Here, take that and don't say that Nan never gives you anything! Bloody dog."
Kitty barked happily, and the older woman cracked a faint smile.
"Thank you, my lady. Now we can get back to work. That's right, you two, quit standing about!" she barked at the elven servants. Castielle shook her head in bemusement, then set off to find her brother.
Teyrna Cousland was talking to three other people when Castielle came across her. "And my dear Bryce brought this back from Orlais last year," she was saying. "The marquis who gave it to him was drunk, I understand, and mistook Bryce for the King." She broke off as Castielle approached. "Ah, here is my lovely daughter. I take it by the presence of that troublesome hound of yours that the situation in the kitchen is handled?" she asked sternly.
"Nan's head exploded and my hound ate the kitchen staff," Castielle quipped. Maker, was it National Attack-A-Mabari Day?
"Well, at least one of us will have had a decent dinner," the teyrna sighed. Kitty barked in response. "Perhaps your hound left something I can feed my guests. Darling, you remember Lady Landra? Bann Loren's wife?"
"I think we last met at your mother's spring salon," the woman said pleasantly.
"Weren't you drunk?" Castielle asked bluntly.
"I'm so proud of my pup's mastery of tact and diplomacy," Eleanor said dryly.
Landra chuckled. "Well it was a lovely salon, from what little I remember."
"Which wouldn't be much, considering we had to pour you into the carriage afterwards," the young man off to the side added.
"You remember my son, Dairren? He's not married yet, either," Landra said pointedly. Castielle had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. Not more marriage nonsense.
"Don't listen to her," Dairren smiled. "It's good to see you again, my lady. You're looking as beautiful as ever."
Castielle squinted at him, trying to place if she'd met the man before. "Thank you."
"And this is my lady in waiting, Iona. Do say something, dear," Landra added.
Iona curtsied. "It is a great pleasure, my lady," she said. "You are as pretty as your mother describes."
"You would think that would make it easier to make a match for her, not more difficult," Eleanor sighed.
"Perhaps your daughter simply has a mind of her own, your Ladyship. You should be proud," Dairren suggested. Castielle turned to him, surprised. He gave her a faint smile, which she returned hesitantly.
"Proud doesn't get me any more grandchildren."
"I can handle my own affairs, thank you," Castielle interrupted pointedly.
"All evidence to the contrary," her mother said.
"I think perhaps I shall rest now, my dear. Dairren, I will see you and Iona at supper," Landra interjected.
"Perhaps we'll retire to the study for now," Dairren replied. He and Iona said their farewells, and left.
"Good evening, your Ladyship," Landra said, and then she too was gone.
Castielle continued down the alleyway, Kitty trailing at her heels, until she entered the family quarters. Eventually she found herself outside Fergus's room. She knocked on the door as she entered, catching the attention of her brother and his wife.
"Is there really gonna be a war, papa? Will you bring me back a 'sward'?" their small son, Oren, was saying excitedly.
Fergus chuckled and knelt, tousling his son's hair affectionately. "That's 'sword', Oren. And I'll get you the mightiest one I can find, I promise. I'll be back before you know it," he promised.
"I wish victory was indeed so certain," Oriana, Fergus's wife, pointed out. "My heart is…disquiet."
"Don't frighten the boy, love. I speak the truth." He rose and turned to face Castielle, a grin breaking out on his face. "And here's my little sister to see me off. Now dry your eyes, love, and wish me well."
"You two are nauseating me," Castielle said, but the barb was halfhearted. The fact that everyone was leaving, including her mother, was starting to become unpleasantly clear.
Fergus laughed. "When there's someone in your life, you'll understand." Castielle sighed; everybody seemed determined to have her paired off and married away, especially of late.
"I prefer my freedom, thank you," she said pointedly.
"One day you'll meet someone who can handle you. Mark my words."
She bristled a little at that remark, but let it pass. "I wish I could go with you," Castielle confessed, as a topic change.
"I wish you could come! It'll be tiring, killing all those darkspawn myself," Fergus exclaimed.
"In Antiva, a woman fighting in battle would be…unthinkable," Oriana suggested.
"Is that so? I've always heard Antivan women were quite dangerous," he winked.
"With kindness and poison only, dear husband."
"This, from the woman who serves me my tea!" Fergus chuckled.
"I bring a message: Father wants you to leave without him," Castielle told him.
Her brother sighed. "Then the arl's men are delayed. You'd think his men were walking backwards. Well, I'd better get underway. So many darkspawn to behead, so little time! Off we go, then. I'll see you soon, my love." Oriana nodded, laying her hand on his face tenderly.
"I would hope, dear boy, that you planned to wait for us before taking your leave?" a voice said from behind her. Everybody turned to see the teyrn and teyrna walking in.
"Be well, my son," Eleanor said. "I will pray for your safety every day while you are gone."
"A good shield would be more useful," Castielle said lightly.
"Maker sustain and preserve us all. Watch over our sons, husbands, and fathers and bring them safely back to us," Oriana said softly.
"And bring us some ale and wenches while you're at it," Fergus interrupted loudly. He cleared his throat when his wife shot him a look. "Er…for the men, of course." The teyrn chuckled, which he tried to hide with a cough.
The teyrna sighed. "Maker, it's like living with a bunch of small boys. Thankfully I have a daughter, too."
"I'll miss you, mother dear," Fergus laughed. He leaned down and embraced her lovingly. He turned to look at Castielle. "You'll take care of her, sister, won't you?"
"Mother can handle herself. Always has," Castielle replied.
"That's true," he said ruefully. "They should be sending her, not me. She would scold those darkspawn back into the Deep Roads."
"Well I'm glad you find this so funny," the teyrna snipped.
Bryce laughed. "Enough, enough. Pup, you'll want to get an early night. You've much to do tomorrow."