Chapter Two - Truth And Justice
Dragon Age 9:55
Throne Room, Castle Cousland
The throne room of Castle Cousland was unique in that it did not actually have a throne. In Aedan's opinion, thrones were for kings and he was no king. The room was actually a huge meeting hall which doubled as the banquet hall, but everyone in the keep referred to it as the 'throne room.'
It was a nice, airy place with tall windows set with beautiful stained glass to let light in but keep out the wind and rain. Some of the windows depicted scenes from the Chantry, as per the instructions of the Teyrna. Others, conforming to Aedan's more whimsical sensibilities, showed scenes of his personal victories or a group scene of his family. Elaborate tapestries depicting the history and heritage of House Cousland decorated the stone pillars and walls Leliana had even made some of them herself. At one end of the room was a huge desk made of aged hardwood where Aedan sat and worked on official matters when he needed to be publicly seen.
Court was in session, as it was every day. One of the first things Aedan had done upon assuming his role as Teyrn was to hold court every single day, instead of once a week as his brother Fergus had preferred. It generally prevented a backlog of work from piling up, although it still seemed never-ending.
The protocol was straightforward, Fereldens being a simple people by nature. They had little use for long words and delays, common sense often being consulted instead of the letter of the law. Criminal cases and military matters were brought before the Teyrn first. After that came civil cases that could not be resolved by the local Bann or Arl. Last came the requests and office-seekers. The people of Highever knew that if the Teyrn was at home, he would hold court every day from dawn to noon without fail.
Usually the children would be taking their lessons from Master Alanna, the castle scholar and teacher around this time. However in recent years Aedan would pull them out of their studies to sit alongside him and watch as he dealt with the matters of justice. Rolann in particular had been an excellent student whenever he had been at home, and he actually found the various cases interesting. The other two children were less enamored, although they did make the effort to sit through some of the hearings.
Presently only Aeryn was with Aedan, occupying a small chair beside her father's desk. Seneschal Vordun read out each case as it was heard, and Hrun the Captain of the Guard was on hand to keep an eye on the criminals and malcontents. The line stretched the length of the hall and there was a constant, low murmuring as the various people waited patiently for an audience with the Teyrn.
"Teyrn Cousland will now hear the case of Samuel Rokin, accused of poaching."
A young man was brought before Aedan's desk, his hands shackled with iron. His brown hair looked as though it had not been washed or combed in weeks, and he wore a scruffy beard on his chin. He was dressed in a rough-spun shirt and simple wool leggings and kept his eyes downward, not daring to look directly at Aedan.
"The charges?" asked Aedan, putting down his quill pen and setting aside a letter he was writing.
"Rokin stands accused of hunting illegally in gameswoods belonging to House Cousland."
"Who was responsible for sending this case on to me?"
"Bann Titus of Riverway, your grace. He could not decide on a verdict and asked for the benefit of your wisdom in resolving this matter."
"Not the first time I've had to clean up Bann Titus's messes," whispered Aedan to Aeryn, who covered her smile with a hand. "Witnesses and evidence?"
Hrun piped up, his voice a low rumble. "A squad of my lads ran into him just as he was coming out of the woods, yer grace. He had a deer on his shoulders and tried to make a break for it, but we brought him back."
"I see," said Aedan, looking up and down the poacher. "Do you have anything to say in your defense?"
"Yeah, I damn well do!" yelled Rokin suddenly. His voice pierced the air and a sudden hush fell upon the hall. The guards flanking Rokin took a step back, unnerved by the outburst.
"I was just a simple farmhand, but I was wounded in a bandit raid. Where were your soldiers then? After that I couldn't find work because of my injured hand, and my family were starving. What choice did I have but to live off the land? You nobles keep the best gameswoods for yourself while common people like me starve!" said Rokin loudly. He was no longer cowering, he stood a little straighter as he faced down the Teyrn. Aeryn shifted slightly in her seat, uncomfortable with the turn of events.
Aedan waited until the man had finished before speaking. "You say you were injured in a bandit raid. Which farm was this?"
"Fisher's Creek, your grace," said Seneschal Vordun.
"And this was?"
"About three years ago."
"And you couldn't find a job afterwards?"
"Damn straight! Nobody would hire me to do anything!" asserted the poacher.
"Did you come to me?" asked Aedan calmly.
"What?" asked Rokin.
"My question is simple. After the bandit raid and when you couldn't find another job, did you come to me or your Bann for help?"
"I - well I - whoever heard of asking the Teyrn of all Highever for help in something like this? Our problems can't be understood by you or your Banns."
"But you never took the trouble to find out," returned Aedan. He gestured to the back of the room. "You might have noticed that a fair few of the people here today are commonfolk. All of them have something to ask of me. While I cannot help everyone, I will hear them out, at least. But that is only if they seek my help. Otherwise you can't blame me for not listening to your problems if they are not called to my attention."
Rokin had nothing to say to that. He simply stared at Aedan, dumbfounded.
"What is the nature of your injury, Rokin?"
"It's my hand, your grace. I can't hold a pitchfork or scythe like I used to," said Rokin. He had quietened down a little.
"So how did you manage to poach the deer?"
"I used a crossbow. It's slower, but I can handle it fairly well."
"So you're a good shot with that bow?"
"I'd say so, your grace," cut in Hrun once more. "It was a moonless night when we caught him, could barely see a thing in front of us. It's a wonder how he managed to poach anything at all."
"Thank you Hrun. Now a simple solution presents itself. Rokin, poaching from the gameswoods is prohibited for a reason. If we let everyone take what they wanted the woods would be emptied in weeks. I never bother with hunting myself, far too messy. But bearing in mind the circumstances, I am willing to be merciful. Rokin you are hereby conscripted into Hrun's company of guards as a scout and crossbowman. Your wages will be docked until you have repaid the value of the deer you shot, but your wife and children will be fed and sheltered within the company barracks."
"I...thank you, your grace. I regret what I did. Thank you for not letting my family starve," said Rokin weakly. Tears of relief rolled down his cheeks.
"Very well. Just remember, I am not an unreasonable man, and if I can help you, I will. Remove his shackles, men."
The guards unlocked the restraints and Rokin left the hall.
Aeryn leaned over and whispered into Aedan's ear. "I was wondering what was the best thing to do in that situation. It seems an elegant solution to me."
"The best ones usually are, Ryn," said Aedan, pleased that his daughter had the chance to witness it. "What would be the point of imprisoning the man, or flogging him? His family would die and I can't let that happen. Now Hrun has another skilled man in his employ. Worked best all around, I feel."
"Aye, true enough," said Aeryn.
"Next case please Vordun," asked Aedan. The old man consulted the scroll that he held, his bald head and long white beard at comic odds with the chainmail he wore and the sword by his side. Although Seneschals were traditionally expected to serve in a more military capacity, Vordun was a bureaucrat at heart. He'd never used the sword he had belted at his hip.
"A most foul bit of business, your grace. The case of Nik Johnsen, accused of rape and murder."
The guards shoved a man roughly before Aedan's desk. Unlike Rokin, this man had his feet and hands manacled together. He was dressed in the leathers and mail of a soldier, although he carried no weapon. He fixed a malignant eye upon Aedan, almost as if daring him to say something.
"The charges?" asked Aedan, his voice level. He'd heard about this case and it was an effort not to let his emotions get the better of him.
"This man, a soldier from the ranks, stands accused of the rape and murder of Jenny Greene, a young woman from town two days ago."
"The evidence?"
"Several witnesses reported hearing a loud commotion from the charnel house where the two were last seen, after which Johnsen left with blood on his clothes. He tried to wash it off but local guards were alerted to the scene, and arrested him."
"I see. Is there anything you have to say for yourself?" asked Aedan. Aeryn noticed that his fist had clenched tightly, a telling sign of her father's true state of mind in his otherwise seemingly calm facade.
"She was a whore, and nobody saw me do it."
"Explain the blood."
"The bitch cut me after I wouldn't pay her as much as she wanted."
Hrun was glaring at the accused man, his great bearded face contorted in anger. Johnsen had been one of his own guards and the captain obviously took the crime as a personal failure. Aedan noticed a few bruises on the man's face. The guards were apparently careless about the way he was treated while in custody.
"The woman was found dead with a dozen stab wounds, Johnsen. People saw you coming out of that place with blood on your hands, and my physicians have found no wounds, self-inflicted or otherwise upon you," said Aedan coldly. "You are hereby sentenced to death by beheading."
"You can't do this to me!" screamed Johnsen, trying to lunge forward. The guards held him back with difficulty. "I am of noble blood!"
"Are you now?" asked Aedan, looking at Vordun.
"He is the second cousin of Bann Delda, your Grace," confirmed Vordun.
"Interesting thing," said Aedan, unfurling a length of parchment and reading from it. "I received a letter from Bann Delda yesterday. She states quite clearly she is horrified with what you have done and no longer considers you bloodkin. Not that it would have mattered even if she did, although this certainly makes things simpler all round."
"She was just a whore!" raged Johnsen, struggling futilely against his bonds.
"She was a mother!" roared Aedan suddenly, getting to his feet. He thumped one hand on his desk, making a pile of books slip and crash to the floor. The hall had gone silent again, transfixed by the scene that was unfolding. "She had children and she tried to provide for them the only way she knew how. No matter what she was or what she did, she was a subject of Highever and the Crown. The Crown's protection extends to everyone, Johnsen. Everyone except murderers. Your high birth will not save you. Your money and possessions are to be donated to the children of the women you murdered, to provide for their upbringing. You are sentenced to death and I will carry out the sentence myself before the sun sets tonight. Take him away."
Hrun dragged Johnsen away with one huge hand, ignoring the murderer's attempts to escape as if he were nothing more than a rat caught in the jaws of a hound. Rolann picked up the fallen books and arranged them back carefully on the desk.
"Father, I have to know. Other lords and Arls use hangmen and executioners. Why do you personally carry out death sentences?"
It was a strong question, one that Aedan had not anticipated answering for a while yet. But he was glad to explain the reasoning behind it to his daughter.
"Ryn, listen to me very carefully. One of our greatest responsibilities and burdens as nobles of the realm is the power of life and death over the people in our service. We must never forget this, even for a second. If you ever have cause to send a man to his death, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his last words. If you cannot do that, then maybe he does not deserve to die."
"I see," said Aeryn, resting a hand on the hilt of her dagger.
"Or maybe there's another way out of this, one you haven't considered?" came a voice from the end of the hall. The Teyrn's men craned their necks, trying to see who was it that had interrupted Aedan's judgment. A burst of low murmuring ran around the hall when Rolann Cousland strode in, accompanied by two of his fellow mages from the Circle Tower.
Although their dark blue and deep purple robes were of good material and design, they paled in comparison to the opulence and grandeur of Rolann's finery. He wore a robe of solid black, woven out of the best Orlesian cloth. A hood covered his hair and shaded his eyes. Unlike those of his companions', elaborate designs were patterned onto his robes in silver thread. A griffon, a bull, even a high dragon seemed to move and catch the eye as Rolann walked down the centre of the hall and came to a stop in front of his father's workdesk.
Rolann was Aedan's oldest son, a man of twenty five. He was tall and lean with long black hair that gave him the look of a bard or an artist. While Rolann did have an artistic side he was primarily a scholar and a thinker, able to match wits with any philosopher from the royal court. But most of the realm only knew him through rumours of his magical prowess.
At his young age Rolann was already a prominent member of the Senior Council of the Circle Tower. He had prodigious magical talent and was the de facto head of the Libertarians, a group of mages aiming to break free of Chantry influence in mage affairs. He had surpassed every expectation that Aedan had of him and it was his arrival at Castle Cousland that warranted the huge feast that was being prepared for that evening.
"My son," said Aedan, standing up. Aeryn had risen to her feet quicker and rushed forward, squeezing Rolann in a hug so tight he gasped and laughed.
"Easy, little sis. I know it's been a while since you last saw me but you're breaking a rib! Still working on that swordarm of yours?" said Rolann, hugging her back.
"Rolann I'm so glad you're back," said Aeryn, letting him go.
"Me too, little sis. Me too," said Rolann, mussing up her hair. Aedan once had to deal with an angry knight who had his arm broken by Aeryn for doing the exact same thing. But now she just laughed as if she was a young girl again.
"Father," said Rolann, looking at Aedan and inclining his head. Aedan started forward to embrace him, but Rolann turned away to face Nik Johnsen, who was looking confused at the turn of events.
"If I'm not mistaken, father, I believe there's a way out of this situation that does not involve death."
"I'm sorry Rolann, you're mistaken this time. The man is a murderer and a craven coward. He is to die and I will carry out the sentence myself," said Aedan, stepping around his desk and standing before his son. The people around them looked from one man to another, noting their locked gazes.
"I recommend that this man undergo the Rite of Joining and become a Grey Warden," said Rolann, unblinking. An audible gasp echoed around the hall.
"Rolann, the Rite of Joining is reserved for those only whom the Grey Wardens deem most worthy. This man is hardly the best example of a Ferelden hero."
"Perhaps not. But with King Alistair's decree he has the option of joining the ranks to redeem his honour."
Aedan gritted his teeth. It had slipped his mind, but his son was right. With the numbers of Grey Wardens so reduced at Ostagar, Vigil's Keep and other battles, the crown had issued a decree stipulating that criminals had the right to serve as Grey Wardens under the eye of the Warden Commander at Amaranthine. It was an idea apparently inspired by the dwarven Legion of the Dead. Aedan had protested bitterly when the new Commander first proposed it but due to a combination of crippling manpower shortages and a rise in crime, the king was persuaded to issue the new laws throughout Ferelden.
Granted most of them were sent to battle darkspawn in the depths of Orzammar anyway, but Aedan still felt uneasy at the sudden flood of new recruits who had forgettable and oft times bloody past history to hide counted among the legendary order. Despite the celebrated cases of a few such men eventually making a new name for themselves, Aedan's skepticism remained unbroken. This apparently had not extended to his son.
"The man murdered a defenceless young woman, Rolann. He doesn't deserve a second chance."
"Everyone does, father. Didn't you give Zevran Arainai a second chance? He was a murderer many times over. Or what about Sten of the Beresaad? All heroes, and all criminals too. This man should be given that chance."
"Yes, that's it! I pledge myself to the Grey Wardens!" babbled Johnsen excitedly. The look of relief he gave Rolann was sickening in its desperation.
Aedan fumed, outwitted by his own son. Not for the first time, but certainly the first time in so public a space and in so dire a matter. Although there was really nothing he could do about it. The laws were clear and Johnsen had to be given the chance to join.
"Send him to Amaranthine," muttered Aedan to Hrun.
"Y'grace?" said Hrun, looking warily at his prisoner, and then at Rolann who was enjoying the applause he was receiving from the assembled crowd.
"You heard me. But I still want his money confisicated and donated to the children of the woman he murdered. Send the man to the Warden Commander, Maker help him. And I hope he chokes on the demon blood." But that last bit was said under his own breath.
"Good people," said Aedan suddenly, addressing the crowd. "I fear I can satisfy no more audiences today. The day's session is adjourned." Without a backward glance the Teyrn of Highever left the hall. Aeryn gave Rolann a worried look, and then hurried after her father.
"Was that wise, Rolann?" asked one of the mages. "Antagonizing his grace like that."
"I know my father," replied Rolann. "He'll soon see the wisdom of my words. Besides, if he's mad now, he definitely won't like what I have to tell him later."