Chapter 1: Duty
Barking dogs. Always the first sound Troy Cousland heard when he awoke. He groaned as he turned over in his bed, trying desperately to block out the noise of the damned beasts. Of course it was useless, the mabari, more specifically his mabari – Dane – would not stop barking until he fed them. Resigned to his fate, Troy rolled out of bed and put on some pants. He didn't bother with a shirt, it was warm enough today that he would only need to be properly dressed when Arl Howe's contingent arrived around noon. He exited his room and headed downstairs to where the mabari pens were kept. His family often jokingly mocked him for being the one who fed the mabari – a servant's job, they called it. However, as much as he acted as though he didn't care for the animals, there was no way he was letting anyone besides himself feed Dane. That, and the fact that Dane would not let any of the servants near him or his food. Naturally, with Dane being the alpha male of the pack, the other mabari followed his example.
As he descended the stairs Troy looked back on the events of the last week. A missive had arrived four days ago bearing the Mark of the Crown calling Troy's father, the Teyrn of Highever, to assemble his forces to battle darkspawn – of all things – near the ruins of Ostagar in the south. This, of course, caused the castle to erupt into a flurry of action. Messengers were sent to the Arlings and Bannorns under Highever's command, demanding that they assemble their armies and prepare to march to the King's aid. Most of the Bannorns had sent what soldiers they could the day before, but the Arling of Amaranthine – Arl Howe's land, which held a significantly larger number of soldiers than the other Bannorns – had taken longer to assemble. Howe's forces would be arriving today and would be marching out with Highever's soldiers that afternoon.
Troy looked forward to proving himself in battle alongside his father and brother, both of whom had already shown they were excellent commanders and tacticians. His father had fought side by side with King Maric during the revolution that reclaimed Ferelden from the Orlesians three decades ago, while his brother Fergus had been in command of the his own battalion for the last five years. Troy was only nineteen years old and, while he had been trained to fight and lead soldiers from an early age, he had never been in a real battle or war. He hoped his training would be enough at Ostagar, but pushed such thoughts away as he entered the mabari pen.
"You're not going to starve anytime soon, you know?" he said to Dane as the great hound continued to bark. "I bet you could live for a whole week without a single morsel of food and still rip the head off of an Orlesian Chevalier."
Dane seemed to take that as a compliment and began to run around in quick circles barking happily.
"Alright, come here you fat thing," Troy laughed and took the dogs out to feed them before passing them off to the handlers who would make sure they were exercised and ready to head out with the rest of the army.
Troy, on the other hand, headed back for his room, hoping to catch another hour or so of sleep before he had to get ready. As soon as he reached the top of the stairs he knew he would have no such luck.
"Oh, there you are sweetie," Said his mother, Teyrna Eleanor Cousland, as she approached. "Put some clothes on dear, you can't have servants seeing you in your smallclothes if you're going to be in charge while your father and brother are away!"
"Wait, what!" Troy's heart stopped. He knew he'd heard her wrong. "You think I'm staying here while father and Fergus have all the fun at Ostagar?"
"Yes, and don't even think of asking your father to try and convince me otherwise, he's been trying since I told him you were staying yesterday."
"But... you can't just decide to make me stay!" Troy had never been more furious at his mother. What made her think he would ever agree to stay at the castle while his brother and father fought for the safety of Ferelden?
"That's where you're wrong my son. I can and I did. Someone has to stay behind and command the castle while they are away."
"You're perfectly capable of doing that yourself!" Troy replied, trying desperately to think of something, anything, he could say to change her mind. He knew that it was useless, but he was going to give it his best shot.
"I could, but you must stay behind in case the worst should happen to Bryce or Fergus," Eleanor said, trying to hide from her son the fact that she believed that was a real possibility, "And besides, the experience will do you good."
"But-" Troy took one look at his mother's expression and any thought of disagreeing died on the spot. She looked so worried, yet at the same time resolute. "Yes mother."
"It's best this way sweetie. I know you want to go with your father, but your duty lies here."
"Right, duty first," Troy responded sarcastically, walking into his bedroom and slamming the door.
Troy punched the thick wooden door as it closed – a childish form of defiance that left him with nothing more than a sore hand. He sighed and turned to the mirror in the corner of the room. The sight that greeted him was a very familiar one, but as he stared at the mirror he tried to figure out why his mother had decided to leave him behind. He stood at about average height, around five foot nine inches, and weighed around 160 pounds. His brown hair was cut short, almost to the point of looking bald. He had let his beard grow to the point where it was just stubble all around, but kept it as short as his hair. Seeing nothing in the reflection of the mirror he turned around began to get dressed. Feeling decidedly un-royal at the moment, he left his more noble garments in the wardrobe and instead put on his leather armor. A little defiance never hurt anyone, and if he had to stay here and rule he may as well be comfortable doing it. He even went so far as to grab several of his knives and slip them into the many sheaths sewn into the tight fitting pants and jacket. Finally he grabbed his sword and slipped it into the sheath on his back and left his room.
Breakfast was a quick affair, Troy had no desire to get into an argument with his parents and knew himself well enough to know that he would inevitably turn any conversation towards the fact he was being left behind. After breakfast he roamed the castle, looking for something to do until Arl Howe's men arrived. As it happened it was at exactly that time a messenger from the gatehouse arrived.
'Its a bit early for Howe's contingent,' Troy thought as the man approached. 'And surely they would have been admitted on sight. This could be interesting.'
"My Lord," the messenger began upon seeing Troy. "There is a traveler at the gate, well armed. Claims to be a Grey Warden."
"Why hasn't he been admitted?" Troy asked, taking out some of his anger on the poor man.
"The Teyrn ordered that no one should be allowed inside the castle without permission, your Grace."
"The man is a Grey Warden, soldier, let him in," Troy replied, and turned away before thinking it over. "Actually, I'll go with you and greet this Grey Warden myself."
'A Warden, here, I wonder why?' Troy thought as he led the way to the main gate of the castle. 'Maybe he wants to recruit some of our soldiers for his order? I know there are only a few here in Ferelden. And if there really are darkspawn at Ostagar, he'll need Wardens now more than ever.' These thoughts continued to circle through Troy's head until they arrived at the gate.
"Open the gate, Captain!" He barked.
Troy heard the portcullis raising before the main doors opened and revealed a single man standing there. His dark skin was the first thing Troy noticed about him, much darker than the average Fereldan's – possibly the man was Rivaini. He had short hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was dressed in expensive looking armor, and had two blades strapped to his back. He carried himself with the aura of one who was used to being in charge, he radiated confidence. With just as much confidence, Troy walked up to the man and introduced himself.
"Welcome to Highever Castle, Grey Warden. I am Troy Cousland, my father is Teyrn of this land." The man accepted Troy's outstretched hand and shook it.
"Duncan, Commander of the Grey Wardens here in Ferelden. I must say, I was not expecting to be greeted by the Nobility at the gate, your Grace."
Troy motioned for Duncan to follow and began to walk towards the main hall. "In all honesty, Duncan, I was looking for something to do until Arl Howe's men arrived. When the guardsmen told me there was a Grey Warden at the gate I decided it was worth my time to greet you in person."
"I know the King will appreciate the soldiers your father is sending to Ostagar. I fear there are more darkspawn in the forests than he will be able to deal with. Will you be leading the army?" Duncan asked, gesturing towards Troy's armed and armored form.
"No, Father will be leading his forces, along with my older brother Fergus," Troy responded dejectedly.
"Ah. And you have been given the enviable task of keeping the castle safe, yes?"
"Unenviable if you ask me..."
"Believe me, young Cousland, there is nothing to envy about facing the darkspawn..." He paused, and looked at Troy for a few seconds as if studying him. He shook his head slightly before continuing on.
'What was that about?' Troy thought as they entered the main hall. The thought never crossed his mind that Duncan might be considering him for the Grey Wardens.
They entered the main hall and Troy led Duncan towards the throne, where the Teyrn was talking with one of his advisers, likely ensuring everything would be ready for when Arl Howe arrived.
"Father, we have a visitor," Troy announced as he approached the Teyrn. "Allow me to introduce Duncan, Commander of Ferelden's Grey Wardens."
"And what brings the Commander of the Grey to Highever on the eve of our departure to Ostagar?" Bryce asked suspiciously.
"Recruitment, your Grace," Duncan began. "There are too few Wardens in Ferelden, and if this should turn out to be a true Blight we will need more. I have heard many tales of the bravery, honor and courage of Highever's soldiers and wished to see for myself if the legends held true."
"You will find no better soldiers of all of Thedas, Duncan," Bryce replied, still wary of the Warden's motivations. He knew Duncan had come with other Orlesian Wardens when Maric had first allowed the Order back into Ferelden years ago. Having fought against Orlais himself, Bryce still held a deep-rooted distrust of any Orlesian. "Perhaps one of my men can escort you to one of our guest rooms? You must be tired after your journey here."
Neither Troy nor Duncan missed the insinuation that Duncan would be monitored during his stay at Highever Castle. Troy couldn't believe his father would act this way towards someone as distinguished as the Commander of the Grey. Duncan, however, appeared unfazed by the Teyrn's comment, and indeed, took it in stride.
"Of course, your Grace. If its not too much trouble, I'd prefer a room that overlooks your training ground."
"That can be arranged," Bryce said coolly before gesturing to a nearby guard.
The guard led Duncan out of the hall towards the guest wing. As soon as they were out of earshot Troy rounded on his father.
"What in the name of the Maker was that about?" Troy demanded. "That was the Commander of the Grey and you treated him like some common criminal!"
"I need to know his loyalties lie with Ferelden's best interests, and not those of the Empress of Orlais. It would be a great honor to have one of our house chosen to join the Wardens, but I won't have any soldier of mine placed under the command of one who may have ties to Orlais."
"I – I hadn't considered that," Troy paused, digesting what his father had said. "But everything I've ever read and learned about Wardens suggests they fight the Blight no matter where they are from. And he seems like a trustworthy man."
"From what I've heard of the man he is dedicated to his order, however he has asked for legions of chevaliers from Orlais to help battle the Blight. Who's to say they will go back once they have gained access to our country again?"
"Perhaps you have a point." Troy replied, still unconvinced. He turned around and left the hall.
Even as Duncan watched the soldiers of Highever castle train in the courtyard below, he couldn't help but have his attention drawn back to the young noble who had greeted him at the gate. The man had carried himself as someone of his rank should: he had the confidence to lead men, his stance betrayed his years of training in the martial arts. But there was something more. Something about the man suggested to Duncan he was not a front line warrior, but more adept at leading a small scouting band or flanking unit, perfect for what would be needed to defeat the Blight before it truly began. Even though the noble, Troy was it? – a strange name, was exactly what Duncan had come to Highever to find, he knew the Teyrn would never allow it. Despite the fact that Troy was not the heir to the throne Duncan knew most nobles would not willingly give up their children to his Order, and feared Bryce Cousland would be no different. He would need to be cunning if he was going to have any shot of convincing the Teyrn to allow his son to be recruited. Loud fanfare broke into his thoughts.
Arl Howe arrived right on time. Troy watched from the top of the main gatehouse as a very small contingent of soldiers escorted the Arl's caravan up to the castle. Troy scanned the road but saw no sign of the rest of Howe's army.
"Open the gate!" Troy called as the Arl's vanguard approached. The gates began to open as Troy descended the stairs to greet the Arl. He looked the honor guard over and sent a messenger off to inform his father of Howe's arrival before turning to face the oncoming caravan. It stopped after crossing the threshold of the castle and its escorts snapped to attention as Troy closed the distance. The Arl disembarked and greeted Troy.
"Your Grace, I'm afraid I have some troubling news to deliver to your father," Howe began.
"He has been informed that you arrive without the Amaranthine Army at your back," Troy responded coolly. If there was one thing he had no patience for it was the way certain Nobles tried to make light of their responsibilities and disregard their duties to the Teyrn. Howe had been allowed an extra day to prepare due to the fact that he was good friends with Troy's father, and for him to squander that gift made Troy's blood boil.
"With good reason, your Grace."
"Tell it to the Teyrn," Troy replied before turning his back on Arl Howe and storming off, leaving the honor guard to escort Howe the rest of the way to the main hall.
Once Troy had taken a few minutes to collect himself, he made his way to the main hall. His father and Howe were laughing and making jokes like old times – as if Howe hadn't just arrived empty handed. Taking and extra second to push those thoughts to the back of his mind, Troy walked over to where the two men were standing.
"Ah, pup, there you are." His father said as Troy approached. "Howe, you remember my son?"
"I see he's grown into a fine young man," Came the Arl's response, clearly attempting to make amends with Troy in some way. Either that or he was just trying to suck up to the Teyrn, which Troy wouldn't put past him. "My daughter, Delilah, asked after you. Perhaps I should bring her next time?"
'Maker, not this again,' Troy sighed to himself. 'How many times is he going to bring that up?'
To Howe he replied, "Uh, she's quite a bit younger than me."
"Ah, but once you get to be our age," Howe gestured to Troy's father and himself, "the years matter less."
'It really isn't the age that bothers me, Lord Howe,' Troy said to himself sarcastically. 'Its the whole "her being a girl" thing that's holding this relationship back.' While Troy had never come out and said it to anyone, he knew there were stories spread all across the Teyrnir of how he had shamelessly hit on a young, and male, noble at a gathering of the bannorn a couple years ago. He had thought that the fact he never denied these stories would have been a good sign that they was true, but, alas, some people never could take a hint. So he let the subject drop as his father began speaking again.
"At any rate pup, I'm glad you're here. While your brother and I are away, I am leaving you in charge of the castle."
"I know, mother told me this morning." Troy said, hoping to try to convince his father otherwise. "And I was-"
"Not a chance," His father replied before Troy could even finish his sentence. "Your mother and I talked about this at length, and as proud as I would be to have you serve at my side, your mother will not allow it. There will only be a token force remaining, and you must keep order while we are away. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?"
Troy was about to argue the point, but thought better of it since not only was Howe standing right there, but so were a dozen or so guards. "Of course father."
A messenger walked up at that time and whispered something the Teyrn's ear. "Yes, let him in." Troy heard his father mumble and the guard walked over to a side door, and opened it. Duncan stepped through and approached the group of nobles.
"It is an honor to be a guest in your halls, Teyrn Cousland," Duncan spoke. Troy could tell the man was buttering his father up, but to what end?
"Your Lordship! You didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present." The Arl's reaction seemed very out of place, almost as if he were afraid of having a Grey Warden in the castle.
"Duncan just arrived, unannounced. Is there a problem?"
"Of course not! But a guest of this stature demands a certain protocol, I am... at a disadvantage." The way Howe said disadvantage made Troy's skin crawl, but he couldn't explain why.
"It is true, we rarely have the pleasure of seeing Wardens in person," Bryce replied, "Without their warning, half the nation might have been overrun before we had a chance to react. How goes the search for recruits, Duncan? See anyone who's taken your eye?"
"If I may be so bold, I would say your son, here, is an excellent candidate." Duncan replied.
"Honor though that might be, this is one of my sons we're talking about here."
"Hold on, father," Troy began, "I actually think that would be an excellent idea."
"I will not allow it, so unless you intend on invoking the right of conscription-"
"Have no fear," Duncan cut him off. "While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I have no intention of forcing the issue."
"Good." Bryce Cousland's eyes burned for a split second before turning to Troy. "Go find Fergus, tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me. He's probably in his room, saying his goodbyes to Oriana and my grandson."
'This day couldn't get any worse,' Troy fumed mentally. 'Its not enough that my paranoid mother is convinced that I'll get myself killed if I leave the castle, but my father not only agrees, but also lets his hatred and suspicion of Orlesians kill any chance I had of joining Duncan's Wardens!' Troy walked towards the main keep, where his brother was likely located. Just outside the main door, he found his mother talking to Lady Landra, as well as Landra's lady in waiting and... oh no, her son, Dairren, the noble who Troy had been futilely hitting on two years before.
"Hi honey," His mother greeted him as he attempted to slip past. "You remember Lady Landra, yes?"
"Of course, Lady Landra, so good to see you again," Troy gave his best performance, trying to appear as though he genuinely cared when all he wanted to do was get away before Dairren recognized him. "If you'll excuse me-"
"And I'm sure you remember her son Dairren?" His mother gestured towards the man.
Troy turned, hoping Dairren wouldn't hate him for what had happened. "Yes, how could I forget?"
"Still as cute as ever I see," Dairren muttered under his breath as he shook Troy's hand.
"I... wha..." Troy was so confused. Despite the fact he had been quote drunk at the time, he was almost certain Dairren had not been receptive to his advances. Now he was getting complimented about how 'cute' he was? But before he could say anything else the conversation had moved on around him.
"And this is Iona, my lady in waiting," Landra was saying.
"How do you do?" Troy asked turning to the elven maid.
"Fine milord," She shyly replied. Of course Lady Landra didn't miss it and had to comment. Troy tuned her out as he continued to ponder what Dairren had said. He barely registered Dairren saying he and Iona would be retiring to the study for a bit until dinner. Troy managed to slip away from his mother and Lady Landra and follow them several minutes later. He found Dairren examining some of the older books in the back corner of the study.
"We need to talk..." Troy began, not entirely sure what he was going to say next.
"I'm sorry if my comment was inappropriate, your Grace." Dairren was very cute when he was nervous, Troy thought. "But you seemed interested before and I-"
"I found it very appropriate, Dairren," Troy cut him off. "I just wish you had said something earlier."
"I wasn't ready back then, but recently... things have changed."
"I think I like where this is headed, Dairren, perhaps we can get to know each other a bit better over the next few weeks? I'm being left in charge of the castle and would love to have some company."
"I would rather enjoy that, however I will be serving your father as a squire when he leaves for Ostagar tomorrow." Dairren seemed to genuinely regret the time they wouldn't be spending together.
"Then perhaps we should get started, hmm?" Troy raised his eyebrow suggestively.
"While I find the suggestion appealing, our mothers are expecting us for dinner. Perhaps afterwords... once everyone has retired to their rooms, we can get to know each other more... intimately, if that is what you are suggesting."
"I'll be waiting." Troy could hardly contain his excitement as he left the study and headed for the main keep.
Troy awoke suddenly to the sound of Dane whining. He felt Dairren shift next to him in the bed, before he got up and went over to the hound.
"Wha's goin on?" Troy asked groggily. They had only been asleep for a few hours, judging by the position of the moon outside Troy's window. It was little over an hour before dawn.
"I don't know, your mabari just started whining a couple minutes ago. I hoped he would go back to sleep, but something seems to be bothering him."
"He probably just misses the rest of the pack." Troy sat up, looking around. He knew it was probably nothing, just Dane wondering where the rest of the hounds had gone, but wanted to check it out anyway.
"No, there's something outside. I can hear voices. I'm going to check it out."
Dairren opened the door a crack before it was kicked into him. He stumbled back from the force of the impact. The next thing Troy knew there was an arrowhead sticking out from the back of Dairren's head and he slumped to the ground. Dane charged out of the room howling. Troy grabbed two daggers and a knife off the bedside table and leaped from the bed. He saw the archer take aim at Dane and threw his knife. The point pierced the other man's eye and buried itself in his brain, killing him instantly. Dane had one of the intruders pinned to the ground, but another was closing the distance and about to bring his axe down on the hound. Troy hurled himself at the man and sank one of his daggers deep into the man's back. His other hand came over the man's shoulder and plunged the other dagger down into his throat, just above the collar the leather armor he wore. The blade was angled downward and entered the chest cavity where it tore into several internal organs. He then planted his foot firmly on the man's back and pulled both blades free, shooting a shower of blood everywhere while he pushed with his foot sending him careening into the wall. Troy looked around for any other targets, but saw no one in the area. He noticed the unlucky bastard Dane had tackled was missing his throat.
The door to his parents' bedroom suddenly burst open and his mother came rushing out with her bow drawn. Seeing no threat she put it away and ran over to where Troy was standing, breathing heavily in nothing more than his smallclothes.
"Darling! I heard fighting outside a feared the worst, are you alright?" She looked at the blood that had splattered across Troy's neck and chest.
"I'm fine... Dairren. He – he's dead," Troy stared back at the unmoving form in the doorway to his room, but shook his head. He couldn't let shock or sorrow take over. There would be time for grief later. Now, there was only vengeance. These men bore Howe's crest on their shields. "Mother, look at their shields."
"Those are Howe's men, why would they attack us?"
"He said his men were delayed, knowing father would send Fergus ahead with our forces. Bastard! He planned this, there's no other explanation."
"If Howe is behind this, I'll cut his lying throat myself. Have you seen your father? He never came to bed." She was worried, more worried than Troy had ever seen her.
"We have to get out of here, if he's still alive he'll be at the gate. We need to get there and defend the castle." Troy turned from his mother, and what he saw made his blood run cold. He hadn't noticed the door to his brother's room was open until that moment. Howe's men hadn't come to his room first. He gasped, "Oh no..."
"Maker!" His mother's eyes had followed his. They approached the door in silence, neither holding out any hope of finding anyone alive. Troy hesitantly pushed the door open and was accosted by a horrific sight. What he saw was something he would never speak of again, his sister-in-law and nephew, butchered in cold blood, betrayed by Howe. He grabbed his mother by the shoulders and pulled her out of the room.
"We can't think of them now," He looked her straight in the eyes, "They need us to be strong, to avenge them and the rest of the men and women who have died by Howe's treachery." His words came out sounding hollow, as he himself was struggling with what was going on. Half his family was now dead or missing, and his forces were severely outnumbered. The likelihood of him seeing the dawn was slim to none, but Howe would not kill him without one hell of a fight.
Troy threw his armor on as quickly as he could, collected his weapons and mentally prepared for what was about to happen. He looked at his mother again, nodded, and kicked in the door to the main room on the floor.
What happened next passed in a haze of blood, screams, blades and death. A seemingly endless supply of Howe's men were slaughtered between the keep and the main hall as Troy, his mother, Dane, and the few guards they could rally fought their way to the gate. When they reached the main hall, Troy truly realized the scope of the battle. Highever's soldiers were outnumbered three to one, but holding the line. Troy let out a bloodcurdling scream as his group charged Howe's line. Without thinking he parried, blocked, dodged and slashed his way through the enemy, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He lost his off-hand dagger at some point and drew one of his knives to replace it. A wide blow aimed for his head was easily deflected with his sword, and his right hand came around and sank the knife into his assailant's temple. A blast of magic flew past him from the right and he spun, pulling the knife from the skull and launching it at the enemy mage. The blade pierced the mage's jugular, dropping him to his knees as he clutched at his throat uselessly. Troy turned again, expecting another attack to come, but the room was silent. Howe's men had all been killed or incapacitated. His men moved to hold the door, while his mother talked with Ser Gilmore.
"He's waiting for you at the servant's entrance in the larder." Gilmore was saying as Troy came over.
"Then that's where you need to go, mother," Troy spoke, with far more confidence than he felt. "Gilmore and I will hold the castle, you and father need to get out, warn Fergus."
"Don't be ridiculous, my Lord," Gilmore replied, "Both of you are getting out of here. My duty is to make sure you get out of here safely. We will hold off these traitorous bastards as long as we can, you two just go, get out of here!"
Troy placed his hand on Gilmore's shoulder, looked at him for a second, nodded and turned away. Duty... the word tasted like poison in his mouth. He hated it. Hated leaving his friends to die while he was forced to live. Hated being coddled because of his heritage. But most of all, he hated Arl Rendon Howe. As he walked out on his friends and comrades, Troy made a silent vow to escape... to live so that their sacrifice would mean something. And when he had a chance, any chance, to kill Howe, he would take it. Revenge for every man, woman and child who died this night.
After a short detour to the armory to collect several Cousland heirlooms, Troy and his mother arrived at the larder. Bodies were scattered everywhere, most of them bore Howe's colors but several of his father's elite guard lay dead as well. Bryce Cousland, bleeding profusely from multiple stab wounds, was laying near the servant's entrance. Troy feared the worst, but his father looked up when he heard footsteps.
"There... you both are," He gasped upon seeing them. "I was... wondering when you would get here..."
"Bryce!" Eleanor cried as she rushed to his side. "Maker's blood, what's happening? You're bleeding!"
"Arl's men... found me first. Almost... did me in right there." Bryce was struggling to get the words out.
"Shh, father, don't speak."
"Howe... he can't get away with this. The king..." He was in so much pain he couldn't even finish the sentence.
"Bryce, we have to get you out of here." His mother tried pulling on his arm to get him to stand, but he wouldn't move.
"I... I won't survive the standing, I think."
"Once Howe's men break through the gates they'll find us. We must go." Eleanor pleaded with her husband.
"Someone... must reach Fergus, tell him what has happened."
"And take vengeance," Troy's voice sounded unnaturally calm, cold. He didn't even recognize himself.
"Yes... vengeance."
"Bryce, no. The servant's entrance is right here. We can escape, find healing magic..."
"The castle is surrounded... I cannot make it."
"I'm afraid the Teyrn is correct," The voice caused Troy to jump. He began to draw his blade before he realized it was Duncan, and that Duncan was putting his weapon away. "Howe's men haven't found this exit, but they surround the castle. Getting past will be difficult."
"You are Duncan? The Grey Warden?" Eleanor asked clearly as surprised as Troy to see him there.
"Yes, your Ladyship. The Teyrn and I tried to reach you sooner."
"Troy helped me get here. Maker be praised."
"I am not surprised," Duncan replied. He looked over at Troy.
"Thank you for saving with my father," Troy answered. He could read Duncan like a book in some ways, and knew he was going to ask a large favor in return.
"I'm afraid your thanks is premature. I doubt I have saved him."
"Whatever we do we must decide quickly, they are coming!" Eleanor said as they heard the sound of the main gate finally giving way.
"Duncan, you are under no obligation to me, but please... get my wife and son to safety." Bryce was begging with his last breath.
"I will, you Lordship. But... I fear I must ask for something in return." Troy knew what it would be before Duncan even finished the thought.
"Anything!"
"What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil that is loose in the world. I came here looking for a recruit, the darkspawn threat demands I leave with one." Heartless, but effective. Troy respected the Warden for having the courage to ask such a thing of a dying man.
"I... understand."
"I will take the Teyrna and your son to Ostagar to tell Fergus and the King what happened," He paused before continuing, "Then, your son joins the Grey Wardens."
"So long as justice comes to Howe... I agree."
"Then I offer you a place within the Grey Wardens," Duncan said as he turned to Troy. "Fight with us."
"So long as I am able to live and avenge those that died here, I accept," Troy replied somberly.
"We must leave quickly then." Duncan stood and headed for the exit.
"Bryce... are you... sure?"
"Our son will not die by Howe's treachery. He will live and make his mark on the world."
"Darling," Eleanor looked up from her dying husband and into Troy's eyes, "Go with Duncan. You have a better chance to escape without me."
"Eleanor..."
"Hush Bryce. I'll kill every bastard who comes through that door to buy them time." Her face was set with grim determination, but softened as she looked down at him. "But I won't abandon you."
"Mother, you can't..."
"My place is with your father, to death and beyond." She pulled Bryce's bloodstained form close.
"Go... pup. Warn your brother. You know we love you both. You do us proud."
"They've broken through, we must go." Duncan said from the doorway. He walked over and pulled Troy away from his parents.
"Goodbye, darling." Eleanor's eyes glistened, but she held back the tears. Her face was set as she turned to face the main door of the larder. The picture of a noble dying a noble's death.
And so his old life ended in flames. Burned down by the greed of one man. The blazing inferno that engulfed the main hall mirrored the fire in Troy's soul. Grief mingled with rage, sorrow became vengeance, and yet somehow he knew it was only the beginning.