Chapter 3 - Prime Suspects
Loghain had always been an early riser and the morning after his arrival at Vigil's Keep was no exception. He was up and dressed at dawn and made his way down to the large dining room, noting with approval that an ample breakfast was already set out on the sideboard. Servants were bustling around the room, bringing in regular refills for the covered dishes that smelled of salty bacon, succulent eggs and other delicacies.
Most of the Wardens were already up as well, no doubt driven here by the combination of restless nights and ravenous hunger that seemed to be part of the Warden package. Loghain eyed them curiously as he filled his plate. He didn't recognize the tall elven mage or the tiny casteless dwarven woman who were chatting at one corner of the table. The other dwarf was a familiar face from the Blight, though... Oghren, that was it. A drunkard, but an able fighter, as Loghain recalled. And apparently a Warden now, judging from his blue and silver uniform.
And of course no one failed to recognize the lithe figure of Zevran Arainai, former Antivan Crow and Blight companion. Loghain was surprised to see him at the Keep, but nodded briefly in his direction before giving a heartier welcome to Ser Cauthrien who arrived shortly afterwards.
A rather pompous young man with blond, curly hair walked up to greet him, introducing himself as Seneschal Garevel. Ah yes, the previous seneschal, Varel, had died in an attack on the Keep, hadn't he? And the old lady in the corner had to be Mistress Woolsey. Loghain vaguely remembered being introduced to her two years ago.
He sat down with Cauthrien, eager for news about his daughter, the Queen, when suddenly there was a commotion in the hall. The door opened with a loud bang, and a man with long dark hair, clad only in a thin pair of leather breeches, stormed in, followed closely by a tall young man in mage robes.
"I'm telling you, Anders, she's dead! There's nothing you can do any more."
Loghain gasped at the sight of the wild-eyed face of the first arrival. He reminded him of... Rendon? But Rendon was dead, and so was his son, Thomas. So this had to be...
"Nathaniel," he called out firmly. "Nathaniel Howe! What is the meaning of this?"
Nathaniel's head spun around, and he faced Loghain, his expression so full of grief and panic the older man instinctively stepped back. "She's dead. Commander Amell is dead... She's been poisoned."
Immediately all hell broke loose. Loghain sank back on his chair in the midst of all the furious chatter, unable to process the news for a moment. Morena, dead? But just last night they... Enough, he told himself firmly.
"You, mage!" he addressed the robed man who had arrived with the young Howe. "Are you a healer?"
The man nodded. "Yes. I... I'm Anders. But Nate seems to be sure-"
"Up to her room, quickly." Loghain cut him off. "Maybe..." He broke off, looking around to find the other Wardens staring at him while Anders darted up in the direction of Morena's quarters.
"And who made you the boss all of a sudden?" the tiny dwarven woman piped up. She didn't seem unduly shaken by the news of Morena's death. "Who are you, anyway?"
"Shut up, Sigrun." Oghren laughed mirthlessly. "This is Loghain MacTir, and he's the senior Warden here now. Well, exc-" He caught himself just in time. "Anyway, if Morena's really dead, we'll have to answer to him."
"Curious, though, that she should die right after your arrival..." The elven mage looked at him from under her long blond lashes. "Weren't you her enemy for most of the Blight?"
"Velanna!" Nathaniel's stern voice rose easily over the low murmur that had risen up at her words. "You dare accuse Loghain of such a deed? If you knew him at all, you'd realize that his honour is above reproach."
"He's just another shem to me. But of course you would defend him, Nathaniel." The mage raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't your father a special friend of his? Maybe you were in this together..."
"Enough!" Mistress Woolsey jumped to her feet, bristling with righteous indignation. "You call yourself Wardens? If this were Weisshaupt..." A collective sigh from the assembled Wardens answered her as she launched into what was without doubt a familiar diatribe. Loghain caught Nathaniel's eye and nodded briefly at the young man. I'll talk to him later.
Just then Anders returned, and Loghain raised a hand to quell the noise.
"She's dead." Anders' voice sounded shaky, and his hands clenched in the folds of his robe. "As far as I can tell, Nate is right. She was poisoned. Something strong and quick... Crow poison maybe."
All eyes turned to Zevran, who had remained silent so far, but the assassin just shrugged. "Hardly an unusual choice," he remarked in his rich, rolling accent. "And not that hard to come by either."
Loghain nodded. "I'm going up to Morena's room. Anders, you should be there, and you too, Nathaniel, since you found her." He raised his voice. "Rest assured, all of you, we will find her murderer. I will clear my name of this infamy." He shot a dark look in Velanna's direction. She glared back defiantly before whispering something in Sigrun's ear. The dwarf nodded emphatically.
"Of course I will investigate the matter as well." Garevel had gotten over his initial shock and was now determined not to be outdone. "It's my duty as the Keep's seneschal to keep an eye on this."
Loghain shrugged. "Of course. Let's head upstairs." He pretended not to notice the murmurs rising behind his back when he walked out the door. Let them talk. One of them is a murderer, after all.
And once again, thanks to zevgirl.