Good to be King

Teryn Loghain, Ferelden's General, turned toward his camp chair: an ingenious folding contraption that gave wonderful support for back and arms. Next to the chair was a small table and another camp chair, just like his own. He knelt in front of the table, reaching into a rune lined chest and pulling forth a chilled bottle of wine and two silver goblets. He estimated it was an hour after dinner, and anticipated his guest would arrive soon; either the Grey Warden Commander, who had returned from his mission late in the afternoon, or his second, a burly man with a surprisingly good grasp of tactics, called Bron. Having once known a Warden well, Loghain's invitation to join him in his tent for a strategy session specified after the evening meal: hungry Wardens, in his opinion, were cranky men.

Soft voices outside the tent flap alerted him his guest was here, so he was pouring the wine as his guard announced, "Teyrn Loghain, Grey Warden Commander Duncan is here to see you."

Duncan. The Commander of the Grey Wardens had taken him up on the invitation. His back to the guard hid his grimace. He schooled his voice to a pleasant, neutral tone before replying, "Thank you, Joris. Send him in."

Taking a deep breath, Loghain turned to greet the man he'd first met as a young, untried Warden. Memories of that journey and all the duties that followed floated through his minds eye, causing a surge of bitter betrayal. With a cynical twist to lips and a cocked eyebrow, he held out a goblet and gestured toward the map. "Commander Duncan, welcome. It is a surprise to see you. I thought you would send your second."

Taking the goblet, their fingers touched for a small moment and Loghain couldn't help flinching. A flash of hurt resignation flashed over Duncan's face before he, too, schooled his features into a neutral, yet apologetic, smile. "Bron was injured in the last scouting foray, Teyrn Loghain. He offered to come, knowing more of the situation, but the healers were insistent that he rest. I would not-" Pausing, Duncan took a sip of wine to hide his search for words, "wish to insult you further by refusing the invitation and Lorne would have driven you to distraction."

Loghain smirked, "Yes. Still not able to read maps, then? How he was made your third, I will never understand. No one that important should be allowed to remain-"

Duncan raised a hand, waving off the rant he knew was in the making. Loghain's opinion on commanders and leaders requiring good map reading skills was well known. So, with a soft smile to soften the interruption, he interjected, "He does well enough, and is keen to continue learning. There has not been much time for lessons, though, with his team out scouting daily."

A tilt of the head and short nod was Loghain's way of acknowledging Duncan's points.

"You're correct, of course. Regardless of the reason, it would have been distracting. Come then, Commander, and take a look at the latest movements. King Cailan will join us after I've briefed you, since he would be bored to hear it all again. I suspect you will know most, if not all, of them as the intelligence came from your own men." Loghain motioned toward the map table, striding over to stand at it's side while Duncan studied the changes.

"Disturbing. They've gathered more numbers. It will be, man to darkspawn, an almost equal battle – though, with your tactics, we should still prevail. This then," Duncan's finger traced the air above two curved lines marked on the map, "is where you would have us engage the enemy?"

Loghain nodded, sipping his wine to hide the concern in his eyes at the sight of an old bandage wrapping Duncan's wrist. "From their massed camps, it is the logical path of attack." Leaning down, Loghain pointed with his small finger at three camps on the map. "As you see, these two fronts have a variety of advantages, including height for the archers and escape paths in case we need to fall back. If we place oil and wood here, here, and there, we can block a sudden, overwhelming assault with a well place fireball or flame arrows. I'd considered something here but-"

Duncan turned his head, grinning, to finish the statement. Instead, he found his eyes widening and jaw hanging open. "Maker's Breath, Loghain! You have ears!"

Loghain's shocked, astonished look matched Duncan's. "Andraste's boots, Duncan. You've ears and a tail! What in the Void is going on?"

Both men stared at the long ears sprouting from the other's head, and the soft, round, fluffy tails affixed to the seat of their pants. Both also noted the fine, soft fur now covering every inch of visible skin. To top it all off, they now sported a small muzzle, soft pink nose, and long white whiskers.

Hearing the tent flap parting, Loghain growled and Duncan dropped his head into his free hand.

"Ah, Loghain, Duncan. Having a strategy meeting, are we? Or... is this a costumed ball and you just happened to wear the same outfit." Relishing the sight of the General of Ferelden's Armies and the Grey Warden Commander in their unwanted bunny outfits, Cailan smirked at them, knowing this strategy meeting would go quickly thanks a friendly illusion mage and a few sovereigns. He also knew neither man would do more than complain.

Sometimes, it was good to be King.