Chapter 2

A Day in Court

In the years following the end of Orlesian rule in the city of Kirkwall, it was said that all those who either held power, or desired it, were all drawn to Viscount's court. It was here that Chivalry Threnhold and his heir Perrin held the power of life and death in their fair city.

To those in power it was the place to be seen, the pinnacle of wealth and prestige. To those without power it was a nest of villainy where the wealthy traded coin and flesh for favors. It was a place of bribery, graft, and unchecked ambition. No lord or lady in Kirkwall could afford not to attend court lest their enemies convince the Viscount that Kirkwall would be a better place without them in it.

It was into this arena that a week after their arrival that the Crimson Oars were thrust into. Leaving their dockside warehouse home, a small party of the Oars, including Captain Kendals as well as Malcolm Hawke, found themselves climbing the great staircases of the city all the way to the Keep on The Viscount's Way.

Hightown was nothing like anything that young Malcolm had ever seen. It was a land of wealth and splendor. Lords and Ladies with their servants and body guards prowled the market district in small groups, while elven runners' ferried messages back and forth. There were several Templars in the crowd as well, but all their attention seemed to be drawn to the other heavily armed mercenary bands. To them, the Oars must seem to be an unorganized collection of rabble, completely beneath their notice.

Thank the Maker for that, Mal thought to himself.

By the time they had arrived court was already in session. Noble's waited patiently while the Viscount dealt with the business of running their city, waiting for him to address their needs.

Viscount Threnhold sat on an elaborate throne at the end of the great hall. He was a short, balding, mean spirited man, with beady eyes and a cruel nervous smirk. His son Perrin was a bit taller than his father, but shared the same dark oily hair. Though the Viscount's son held no official title in the city, his father had agreed some time ago to allow his son indirect command of the city guard. The guard Captain answered to Perrin and no one else, and Perrin would then report to his father. Now all the bribes given to the guard ended up at least partially in the younger Threnhold's coffers. It was a compromise of sorts; the father took a cut from the independent mercenary groups, while the son drew from the guard captain's bribes and protection rackets.

Malcolm was trying to not fall asleep while the Oars waited to be addressed by the Viscount. His eyes wandered over the various nobles, merchants, and mercenaries that made up the Viscount's court. There was even a single Templar standing among the group of petitioners. Malcolm went out of his way not to make eye contact.

He was about to whisper to Kendals about how long this was supposed to take, when out of the blue his whole world changed.

That is when he saw her.

IOI

Earlier that day:

"Shouldn't Gamlen come with us as well Father?"

Lord Fausten Amell gave his eldest child a long suffering sigh, "If your brother wishes you to rule our family when you're Mother and I are gone. Then I suspect he will continue to ignore my summons. For now, duty demands we attend to his Excellency at the keep."

"Yes Father," his daughter agreed submissively.

Fausten could not help but smile. Leandra, his beloved little girl, though at seventeen it was clear the he would not be able to call her that much longer. Like most of their family, young Leandra possessed the same sky blue eyes common on his side of the family. Her black hair was long and lustrous, tumbling gently to the small of her back. She had also grown into quite the beauty. Not that her Father saw such a thing, no, she would always be his little girl in pigtails. His little scholar, the one he showed off to his brothers and their families at all the Amell functions. He loved Gamlen too, of course, but his little Lea would always hold a sacred place in his heart.

And to save our family, I must sell her like a common brood mare.

Given the troubles their family had had in the last few years it was not surprising that the Amells would have to turn to the other noble houses for help. Much had been spent in the last ten years in trying to end the rivalry between House Amell and House Dumar. When young Marlowe took control of house Dumar last year, he had immediately sued for peace with Fausten's older brother Aristide. It seemed that the old wars were over; the Amells had hoped that things could only get better.

Then the trouble with his brothers began.

Aristide, who had had to step down as Lord Amell, was in seclusion following the birth of his first child with his new wife, the mage child. Then there was poor Damion, Aristide had nearly bankrupt their family defending their little brother from smuggling charges. Fausten, now Lord Amell was left with the job of trying to restore their family's glory. Once they had been one of the wealthiest Families in Kirkwall, but that had gone with a series of bad investments and poor lawyering.

Leandra could change all that, Guillaume, the future Comte DeLauncet, had asked for her hand in marriage. Well his father had asked on the boy's behalf. The marriage would bring about a new alliance. DeLauncet coin would revitalize the weakened Amell family. The Amells would be rescued from obscurity while the DeLauncet's would gain great prestige. Everyone would be happy.

Except his beautiful daughter, Lord Fausten thought.

For her part Leandra remained stoic. She knew her place, and accepts that this was necessary for the survival of the family.

In a perfect world I would wish only happiness for my little girl, but our world is far from perfect.

Kissing her mother good bye, Leandra now dressed in her court finest joined her Father outside their estate in Hightown, and together, along with father's two body guards made their way to the Viscount's Keep.

Upon entering they found that the Keep was more packed than usual, several new mercenary companies had arrived in the city it seemed. The various groups glared at one another as city guardsmen endeavored to keep the weapons sheathed. Fausten immediately regretting his Leandra in here, he had always attempted to shield his children from the dark realities of modern Kirkwall.

Not that Threnhold doesn't enjoy putting them on display.

They finally managed to secure a spot nearby a very uncomfortable and bored looking young Templar. Noticing their noble dress, the man scooted over to allow Leandra to stay close to her Father while at the same time shielded the young girl from the ruffians standing behind her, men who would likely not think twice of grabbing a young girl in an inappropriate manner.

Fausten smiled at the boy, "My thanks Serah …"

"Carver, your lordship," the Templar said politely, flashing a roguish smile "Ser Maurevar Carver, have no fear, I'll make sure these louts stay back. That way the only one you have to worry about is me."

Lord Fausten laughed at the young man's comment. Leandra nodded politely, but said nothing.

Ser Carver returned to watching the troublemakers prance in front of the Viscount and his thug of a son. He really did not understand how Stannard could do this day after day, but then he had given up trying to understand Ser Meredith a long time ago.

IOI

The Gallows: Templar Quarters

Yesterday evening.

"Shouldn't you be preparing for tomorrow Carver?"

Ser Mori looked up from his cards and smiled sweetly at his sister Templar. Ser Meredith was in the middle of finishing up her punishment. Yesterday one of the recruits had grabbed her behind after beating her in the training ring. Meredith had decided the best punishment for this offense had been to break not only the offending hand but the boy's jaw as well. Knight-Commander Guylian had not been happy, and so now Meredith found herself not only polishing every sword in the armory, but also barred her from attending the Viscount's court tomorrow.

That task now fell to Ser Mori.

Maybe she should have just polished Guylian sword? Mori thought crudely, Might have escaped punishment all together.

"Funny, I wasn't aware my mother had joined the Templars," he replied, the mage and two Templar recruits at his card table chuckled.

Meredith held the sword up to the light admiring its shine "I believe you have a date with the Viscount tomorrow don't you Carver?"

He flashed a roguish grin, "I would much rather be dating you Stannard."

The young woman froze. Her cold icy stare of doom fell upon him. Carver did his best not to flinch. Meredith was a woman with a long memory, insult her and she would remember it forever. Mori's comment had been only in jest of course. Yet, Meredith never seemed to understand that, she remained the same impenetrable ice queen.

One day I'm going to crack that shell, he promised himself; one day I will make her smile.

Finally she responded.

"I would sooner let a mage touch me Ser Maurevar."

Mori chuckled, "Hear that Tobey," he said to the mage sitting next to him, "I think you got a shot with Stannard here."

Tobrius, a member of the loyalist fraternity shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, "You shouldn't antagonize your fellows Ser Maurevar," the Mage said nervously, "it can only lead to trouble."

Mori liked Tobrius. He understood the reasons why the Templar order acted the way it did, but at the same time was willing to let his hair down a little when he was with the free-spirited Ser Carver.

Maybe Tobey just needs a good tumble. Maybe Meredith would help with that.

Though the rumor was that Meredith was already taken, she had volunteered every week to attend the Viscount's functions without fail. Mori had heard that the reason for that was that Stannard had taken up with one of the noblemen in the Viscount's court, no one could prove it, but the rumor was still there.

Ser Mori had a hard time believing it though. Stannard's devotion to the order was without question. She seemed too cold to engage in an illicit affair.

Mori teased her sure, but he also respected her. She had all the strength and devotion to be a great Templar. Now she just needed to temper that with mercy. Devotion without mercy could easily turn into fanaticism. Mori hoped the beautiful blonde Stannard did not fall into that trap.

Either that or he just wanted to get into her small clothes.

Growling Meredith left to get another handful of swords from the armory. Mori watched her leave chuckling to himself.

It had been a good night. He had left with not only the two recruit's stipends for the week, but also half of the allowance Tobey was allowed. He had promised himself a drink at the Hanged Man later. First he had to navigate the pit of vipers that called the Viscount's court. He recognized Lord Amell and his daughter from his patrols in Hightown. They were decent folks as far as nobles went.

Mori prayed to the Maker that he would not be too bored, as the nobles began their business day.

Between Viscount Threnhold and Malcolm Hawke it most definitely wasn't.