Chapter 2
2 Years Later
"I beg your Majesty's pardon?" the middle-aged man with the neatly trimmed goatee blurted out. "I said" the king lowered his brow, "that I plan to allow elven enrollment at the universities in Highever and Gwaren, as well as relaxing merchant restrictions on elves throughout the kingdom," he finished with an icy stare that told Bann Arol to retake his seat. The flabbergasted Bann of Rainsfere would be a problem Alistair knew. This wasn't a Landsmeet, not yet. Just a select gathering of the most powerful nobles in the Bannorn, brought together so Alistair could gauge support for his proposals. Thurston Arol was one of the more devoted Andrastians. Ironic, he thought, considering it was Andraste who freed the elves and the founders of her faith that re-enslaved them. He glanced around the Great Hall, eying in particular Bann Loren of Oswin and Bann Harel of Winter's Breath. While their support would be welcome it wasn't necessary. Right now he knew he had both Terynirs; Fergus Cousland having become one of his closest and most like-minded allies, while the current Teryn of Gwaren had been hand-picked by his wife and appointed by himself. As far as the Arlings went Edgehall was firmly on his side since Gell Lendon needed his approval to validate his rule after the overthrow of his brother, the rightful Arl. Even if he voted yea on his proposal Alistair still had half a mind to have him drawn and quartered…or something a little less sever but nevertheless painful. The new Arl of Amaranthine fell under the direct jurisdiction of Fergus, and the Arl of Redcliffe was the king's stepfather. Giving him both Terynirs and a majority of the Arlings. Meaning he only needed a quarter of the Bannorn to see these very basic equality reforms enacted into law. Right now both of the Banns that could create a headache for him socially, if not politically, seemed to be waiting for someone other than Arol to speak on their behalf, neither wanting to get on the bad side of the new king. Alistair knew that went both ways in Ferelden, as a new king would be loath to get on the bad side of the Bannorn. Unlike Orlais, Tevinter, or most of the city-states of the Free Marches, Ferelden was not an absolute monarchy. Being one of the youngest nations in Thedas, it had survived many ages in a political state not unlike the Free Marches, with each region these noble men and women represented being ruled independently until Alistair's great-grandfather had united the clans into the kingdom he ruled today. While many joined willingly, many more did not, and that Alamarri lineage of self-rule still coursed through the veins of all Fereldans. "My king, I'm not sure our opinions matter very much in this instance" Bann Loren said pushing his half-eaten plate of whitefish away and dabbing at the corners of his mouth with the linen. Tired of waiting for the punchline Alistair bit, "and why is that noble Sir?" the major Bann looked up as if he had just been asked a question by a child who should've known better, "the people… my Lord, the humans that is, will never stand for it" he said matter-of-factly. "Oh Bann Loren that is a tired argument" he said looking up to the rafters in not entirely feigned exhaustion. "You may tire of it your grace but I assure you the people of Oswin do not." He said looking around at his peers for agreement, many of whom were still too timid to speak openly against the king. "I think you underestimate them. I think the people have seen the true face of evil and that face is not elven. The elven faces in their conscience today are the faces of those who fought like true Fereldans to save human life. Crestwood, Greensfell, Logerswold; all human villages saved by the Dalish. The city elves of Amaranthine, South Reach, Redcliffe, and here" he said pointing emphatically at the ground, " the capital of our kingdom, who rose out of their alienages to fight side by side in repelling Darkspawn attacks." Alistair uncrossed his leg and stood, "Lords, Ladies, I implore you to join me in this new age. I am not proposing a class of elven nobility or even true elven equality. I admit I desire to see that one day but I know this is not that day. I am talking about the ability to learn and the ability to get paid for the sweat on their brow, both true Ferelden ideals" He said with a clench of his fist. "Forget the people your majesty, what about the Chantry?" asked Lady Franderel of West Hill, here in place of her ill husband. "I meet with the Divine's representative in the morning but I have been given assurances that Justinia the Fifth is sympathetic to the plight of the elves".
"They turned their back on the Maker!" cried the son of Bann Arol, his father doing nothing to restrain the young man. Alistair looked at him, the full gravity of his outburst starting to dawn on him as his shoulder's drooped a bit. The king softened his gaze a bit, "and would you, Duncan, continue to worship the God of the people who took your lands and treated you no better than orcs?" Seeing that his son had used up his courage for the day, Frederick Arol turned to lock eyes with Alistair, "it doesn't really matter what we do, because we are not them!" he spat the last word. Neither broke eye contact for half a minute before Alistair spoke again, "then I assume I cannot count on your support in the Landsmeet?"
"Absolutely not! It's an affront to the Maker" the Bann stood up so quickly he almost knocked the bench over behind him, "but then I hardly think you need my support…your grace" he spoke the last word with such venom that Alistair felt the heat rush to his cheeks as he watched Loren and his son leave the Great Hall.