Bioware Owns All.
Part 8
Fergus Cousland had been startled to find the Chancellor of Ferelden on his doorstep two hours after sunset on the first day of the Remembrance Day festivals. The Teryn recovered quickly, his handsome but heavy-featured face breaking into a grin at his visitors. The Cousland family had a history of being friendly to elves and Moira knew she and Zevran wouldn't be looked at askance unlike in some of Bannorn holdings.
Teagan had introduced them, blood spattered and out of breath as they all were from the mile-long sprint through the city. "Teryn Cousland, may I present Chancellor and Warden Commander Moira Surana," Moira bowed, slightly. "Zevran Aranai, Ferelden's Minister of Foreign Affairs, and Cullen of Lake Calenhad, Grey Warden recruit." Perrin barked, not to be forgotten, "Oh, and last but not least, Lady Surana's Mabari, Perrin," Teagan finished, laughing.
Fergus laughed, and grasped Moira's arm in greeting as she grasped his. "Greetings, Chancellor. My house is yours. Are you here for Remembrance Day?"
"No, Teryn Fergus, I am not, sadly." Moira shook her head, "If you have somewhere private we might meet, I am afraid I have unpleasant news." Fergus looked at Moira and her companions. In all her studies, she'd read of the Couslands and their unfailing kindness and loyalty to the throne of Ferelden and the Thierin bloodline with only a couple of notable exceptions. Their judge of character was usually infallible, as well; one of only miscalculations had been Rendon Howe. But then, even Loghain Mac Tir had fallen victim to that worm tongued serpent.
Fergus had ushered them into his study and shut the door, "What can I do for you, Chancellor?"
Moira stood, somehow, after all this time, still slightly uncomfortable in a room full of humans and men she outranked, even if they were friendly. It made her feel like she was fresh out of the Tower again. "The King is away from the country at the moment. He was called away during the winter to Weisshaupt."
Teagan cleared his throat, "But why? I thought you were the Warden Commander?"
"I do not know. I can only speculate on their reasons. We did communicate with them, after the Battle of Denerim, to ask for reinforcements and to tell them the fates of the other Ferelden Grey Wardens. We sent the same letters to Orlais and Tevinter and the Free Marches. Everyone else replied, saying they would send reinforcements eventually, but they were glad to know Alistair and I had everything well in hand. Weisshaupt only sent a letter back demanding the Warden Commander Alistair Thierin attend them." She looked up at the two men, she could hear Zevran's leather armor creak as he crossed his arms behind her – he'd come to the same conclusion she had, after all. "I've had no letters from him since last one, which was a tersely worded 'I'm here.' He may be a Grey Warden, but he is the King of Ferelden first.
"The King of the Anders is weak. The Grey Wardens rule there. If, in fact, they've taken the King of Ferelden prisoner…."
Fergus growled, Teagan said, his voice angry, "Why would they declare war on Ferelden?"
"Why did Orlais invade? Their cattle stock was low? They need more sheep? We're dreadfully weak after a Blight and a Civil War and think they can get away with it? Alistair wouldn't break and hand them the keys to his kingdom so they could have control of a second country in Thedas?" Moira shrugged her shoulders in her armor. He wouldn't tell them why we both survived? She added silently.
Zevran cleared his throat and stepped forward, "It could also be only one part of a larger plan we cannot yet see." Fergus and Teagan both looked rather alarmed at that thought.
"There is also trouble still in the Tower. Either blood mages reinfiltrated, or we missed a few during the Cleansing. There is also a large underground lyrium trade we've come across. I do not yet know if these are related to Alistair's disappearance. Oghren has had some trouble with bandits, Teagan. They were trying to shake him down for lyrium, assuming that because he's a dwarf and near the Tower, he'd have a large supply. I told him to go to Redcliffe if things got too hot." Moira had begun to pace while she spoke. Once again, she felt as much out of her element as she had at Lothering, taking command, wondering if anyone would listen to a woman, a mage, an elf. And this time, she didn't have her fellow Grey Warden, her love, watching her back. "Lyrium smuggling is always going on, but this is the worst I've seen it since the Blight."
Teagan nodded at her, "I'll stop at Lake Calenhad on the way back home and check on him."
Relief washed over her, a large weight she'd been carrying fell from her shoulders. She really had been worried about Oghren and his family. "Thank you, Teagan."
Fergus cleared his throat, "What can Highever do, Chancellor?"
"Well, for starters, I need a fast ship to the Anderfels," she told him.
"Tough to do this time of year with the spring storms, but I should be able to find one within the week," he assured her. She wanted to snarl at the delay. A week!
"There's nothing to be done about the rest of it at the moment, I don't think. I do ask that you both watch for anything unusual in your respective provinces. The Tower will have to fend for itself for now. I cannot help Irving and Greagoir until I've gotten Alistair back. The king is the priority," Moira told them.
Fergus excused himself, "I must see to your accommodations, Chancellor. And get started on that ship."
"At this hour?" Teagan asked, surprised.
"Truth be told, my friend, the captains that are in dock are probably awake and carousing at this hour," Fergus laughed. "Which is where we should be, if the news wasn't so dire." The Teryn excused himself.
"Cullen, please help the Teryn," Moira ordered quietly. With a scowl, knowing he was being gotten rid of, Cullen followed Fergus.
"You need to watch your back, my friend. If it was known you were friends of the King and his Chancellor, things might not be safe for you, either," Zevran said once Cullen had closed the door.
"Are you really the Minister of Foreign Affairs?" Teagan asked Zevran, grinning.
The Antivan shrugged, "If it is prudent to give me such a title, I'm sure I'll answer to whatever it is our dear Warden calls me."
Moira rolled her eyes at both of them, "How is Redcliffe, Teagan?"
"Quiet, since Arl Eamon took his wife to Denerim," he chuckled at Moira's shudder. "Ah, I see Isolde is still winning friends and influencing people."
"She keeps trying to be the 'society leader' of Denerim. She picks out one more dress for me…," she said, chuckling.
"The fearsome Grey Warden mage conquered by silk and crinoline? That would be a sight to see!" Teagan chuckled. "I imagine you looked lovely, however."
"Like something out of a bard's tale," Zevran said. The elf had taken up a position near the fireplace where he could watch both the large window and the door.
"The high heels were worse," Moira made a face. "If it weren't for Alistair and Zev, I'd have fallen on my ass."
Teagan raised an eyebrow at Zevran who grinned, "She leaned on one or the other of us all evening. At least until she could take the heels off and hide them."
Moira shook her head sadly, "You are a cruel, cruel man, Zev. Telling my secrets like this."
"I have far more wild horses could not drag from me, my Warden," he bowed with an entertainer's flourish.
Teagan laughed, "I think I will go back to the festivities. My Lady? Ser Aranai?" They returned his mock formality, laughing.
When the Arl had left, Moira turned to Zevran. "I have a favor to ask you and you're not going to like it."
"When have I ever not liked doing something for you, my fair Warden?" Zevran asked.
Moira sighed, "Find Cullen and get cleaned up. Then take him down to that festival and find someone to take the edge off. Someone experienced enough to deal with him should he get violent."
Zevran frowned, "You realize he'll try to find someone that looks like you."
"Steer him away from that. He needs to stop thinking about me like that, especially if I'm to be his commanding officer. Not to mention, I already belong to someone."
And don't I know it, thought Zevran. Aloud, he said, "You're right, I don't like this. This estate is hardly secure. That was proven before Ostagar."
Moira nodded, "I know, Zev. I'll have Perrin with me, though. But I think getting him to relax is a priority here. We're going to be stuck on a ship with him for a month, at least. That's awfully close quarters for him to continue thinking like he is."
Zevran shook his head, "A woman of loose morals isn't going to cure him, you know. He is confused on whether you're his savior or his damnation, not just a woman."
"We take the mystery of sex out of the equation and maybe he'll come down on the right side of that fence, Zev. But being on a ship with him is not going to be comfortable in his current state," Moira pointed out.
Alarm bells were still ringing in Zevran's head for Moira's plan, but he had to admit her logic was sound. He looked at the woman to whom he'd pledged his life and his freedom one strange day what seemed a long time ago. She hadn't yet learned to wear armor, so she'd been in one of those scanty mage robes that still seemed to protect the wearer no matter how few strips of cloth were placed on the body. Her shorter black hair had been tied up in the back in a tail, but strands still fell to frame her face. Her storm-cloud blue eyes had been wide with anger, her small, full lips were tightened in a narrow, furious line. She'd had the beautiful Lelianna standing behind her, and the wonderful Wynne. But most importantly, looming over her and forever at her back, was Alistair. He'd been wearing the armor she now wore and glaring down at Zevran. Zevran had been utterly impressed by the imposing contrast of the sunlight and moonlight in the Grey Wardens; it would have taken a less poetic soul than his to not be stuck by it. The elf wondered, not for the first time, if he'd known how thoroughly she'd confuse him and wrap him around her little finger, if he'd not just begged for her to finish him off instead of begging for his life. And knowing, would he really have chosen differently? His voluntary service to her was far less onerous than his previous masters, and she genuinely cared for him, just not in the way he would prefer.
"If this is what you wish, I know of a few places that can accommodate our former Templar," Zevran said. He wasn't really able to keep the irritation out of his voice.
Moira closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, "Then what do you think we should do about it, Zevran?"
"Pressuring him to 'relax,' as you so poetically put it, my Warden, is a bad idea," Zevran said, crossing to her. He put his hands on her armored shoulders, "It would just make him uncomfortable. And possibly much angrier with you."
Moira dropped her hand and looked up at her friend, "All right, I'll trust you on this. I already trust you with my life, after all."
She looked so tired, suddenly, that Zevran gave into the urge to hug her and say, "It will all work out, my dear Warden."
