Chapter X: The Docklands
Lord William Maron entered the main audience chamber of Highever Castle. The Teyrn's court was present, and Alexander, Antonia, Rose, and Thomas were standing off to the side. The Bann of Silverclaw was still in his riding clothes, his doublet, trousers, and cloak, and looked strangely out of place in a hall filled with guards dressed in lacquered green battle armor. He doffed his cap and bowed low. "I am at your command, Your Grace."
"Welcome back to Highever Castle," said Bryce. "William, it has been far too long, and like your son, you have an unerring tendency towards formality."
The Teyrn was sitting on his throne, a seat with a high back made of silver with golden laurel vines interwoven around the armrests and the outer edge of the throne. His wife the Teyrna sat beside him in an identical throne. Lord Fergus and Lady Elissa stood to Bryce's left, illuminated by the candles hanging above them.
"If I am formal, it is only to demonstrate the great affection I have for Your Grace, and the loyalty of Silverclaw to Highever," said William. "Lesser men may be colloquial in their language and bearing, but not men of quality. Has my son presented our gift?"
"He has, and I can see that Ronan's skill has not dulled over the years," said Bryce. "The blade will be treasured, so long as there are Couslands to wield it."
"You are too kind," said William.
"Now," said Teyrn Cousland. "Aside from the King's imminent arrival, why are you here? It has been many months since you last wrote to me personally, and you rarely attend tournaments. You have been very remiss in maintaining our friendship, cousin. Why the sudden change?"
"Our friendship has never dulled, even in periods of silence. I have not written because I have been occupying myself with the defense of the western marches, of realms sworn to your banner, Your Grace," said William. "Banditry has become a more persistent problem these months past, and I intended to root it out. One-Eyed Jon is dead. My son and his companions killed him, and then drove off another incursion from the Hard Line."
"Damn it, Harwen Raleigh again?" Fergus asked. "I thought it was made clear to him that he will never reclaim Ashcrown. Those are Deverus lands now, and do not belong to scum like him and his ilk."
"He is a lunatic with an army," said Alexander. "Small wonder he's turned to pillaging. But we got him while he was attacking a courier party from Winterport. I don't think Harwen Raleigh will be attacking again for a good while."
"You stopped him as well?" Bryce asked. "William, I'm impressed. How long have you been free of the Circle, my boy?"
"Ten days, Your Grace," said Alexander. "And I have only been an anointed mage for a month."
"A month away from Kinloch Hold and he already has a bandit leader and Harwen Raleigh's men under his belt," said Bryce. "He's following in your footsteps, cousin."
"I should hope so," said William. "And what of my other sons? How do Richard and James fare? They are fourteen, now. Will there be a knighthood in store for them, or will I have yet another year of peace before real authority is foisted upon those fools?"
"Peace, William, they are your children!" said Eleanor. "Fergus, how are your squires? Surely you have good news of their progress for the Bann?"
"I do," said Fergus. "Richard and James excel in horse riding, in their swordplay, and Brother Aldous claims that they are fine students, as well. James has been progressing quite well in learning languages and history, while Richard has an affinity for herblore."
"And where are they, Lord Fergus, when they are not under your direct supervision? I know my sons well, and they have nothing, but mischief on their minds," said William. "They need a stern hand to purify it from their souls, not an understanding elder brother to enable their vices."
"They have been well-behaved, as of late, so I gave them some silver and let them explore the market quarter," said Fergus. "You're too hard on them, my lord. They are boys. Let them enjoy their youth."
"They are my sons," said William. "One day, they will be men and ride under the banner of my house. They will have real responsibilities, and I will not have our family embarrassed because of their foolishness."
He turned to Alexander. "Take twelve of my guards. Go to the Docklands and search every brothel in the city for your brothers. If you find them, bring them to me."
Alexander nodded. "What if they have…uh…company?"
William considered the question. "I would have the entire brothel hanged simply for accepting their patronage, but His Grace would not approve."
"I would not, indeed," said Bryce. "Show some restraint, William. This is not a battlefield."
"And I doubt you would follow such a directive even if I ordered it," said William to his son. "Have them brought to the dungeons. They'll be held for a few days as captives, but in relative comfort, and then shipped off to a cloister."
"As you command, Father," said Alexander. He motioned for Antonia and Thomas, who joined him, followed by Ser Drusus Medicus, Ser Garrett Farquhar, and a handful of Silverclaw knights.
Bryce rose to his feet. "Come; let's walk a while, William. It has been too long, and we have much to discuss."
William bowed. "As you wish, Your Grace."
Bryce gave him an exasperated look. "As I said before, it's just 'Bryce,' cousin."
William gave a quiet laugh as the Couslands rose and led him through the castle. "I will endeavor to remember in the future."
The gardens were located east of the main keep. The Couslands kept a wide variety of plants, from ordinary plants, such as roses or lilies, to medicinal plants such as elfroot. There were many elves working in them, and to the newcomer, the gardens, with their tall green hedges and thousands of blooming flowers, looked more in place in the estate of an Orlesian or a Nevarran. The Teyrn often conversed with foreign dignitaries or his vassals here, and William remembered exploring them as a boy, before the city had been taken by the Orlesians and he was a ward of Bryce's father.
"Have you found matches for your other daughters, my lord?" Eleanor asked.
William barked out a laugh. As if Victoria and Rose would just quietly marry someone simply because he bade it of them. "Rose would refuse the handsomest knight's hand, or the wealthiest lord's, simply because I arranged the match. And Victoria intimidates most potential suitors. When did we as a people start valuing demure wallflowers in place of strong, capable women as our wives?"
"A lingering effect of our time under the Emperor, I think," said Bryce. "Luckily, my daughter has proven herself to be quite capable. She rides as though she was born on a saddle, and her skill with the sword is formidable."
"Fergus, however, outclasses her with a lance," said Eleanor.
"I should hope so," said William. "I taught him myself, the best squire I ever instructed."
"You are too kind for saying so," said Bryce.
"Not at all," said William. "But as for my other children, you know how I struggle with Richard and James. Leonas Bryland suggested a match between Richard and his daughter, Habren, but I am against it. His daughter is a flighty and frivolous creature, more interested in Orlesian silks and perfumes than the administration of our realm. I would not pair a woman of such meager character with my son."
"Do not speak ill of Lord Bryland," said Bryce. "He is our mutual friend. He bled with us, on the fields of White River and South Reach. You and he captured Oswin together, fighting side by side on the castle ramparts. He is a man of great integrity, and I will not permit his good name to be disparaged, and certainly not while he is not present."
"I have not spoken ill of him, only his daughter, and deservedly so," said William. "She is a girl of ill temper and meager intelligence whose only redeeming quality is her beauty, which will one day vanish, after her family's wealth and reputation have long since been squandered. Orlesian clothing worth hundreds of chests of gold is enough to satisfy her fancies, as well as a new puppy for every birthday, though not a proud hound befitting a Fereldan woman, but a pampered lapdog for a simpering Orlesian dame."
"Would a marriage between the Lady Bryland and Richard not strengthen the ties between the South and the Coastlands?" Eleanor suggested. "Orlesian clothing and her lapdogs aside, you could benefit from stronger ties with the Bannorn, especially with our relationship with the Chantry strained. Come, my lord, during the tournament there will be young gentlemen and ladies from all over Ferelden. We could have your children married into the finest families in the realm over a banquet, and we can put this matter to rest."
"That is well and good, but my middle sons are still adolescent fools who value carnal pleasures above all," said William. "They will eye the most beautiful, vapid, and shrewish woman of the pack and make them their lady wives. And these foul creatures would entice and ensnare my sons with their feminine wiles while draining the treasure of our family on their own pleasures."
"Not every woman is a spendthrift," said Eleanor. "And you have a terrible reputation at court, as a miser in particular, and in general as a miserable old man. We only want our cousins to prosper, but you are far too paranoid that any woman who gets too close to your sons will be a harlot."
"Any woman pursued by Richard or James will be worthless sluts," said William. "I spent years trying to mold them into respectable young men, but every time, they betray my faith in them by gambling away my money or spending it at a brothel. Now, Richard wants me to make him heir to Silverclaw! Ha!"
"He is your eldest son in the line of succession," said Bryce. "Alexander is a mage; he cannot inherit the bannorn. As much you or I may wish it, it would take a monumental change to convince the rest of the Landsmeet."
"Why should I care what a miserable old Orlesian bitch has to say about how I run my lands?" William snarled. "We sacrificed good men and bled on the fields of Denerim and Highever, but not so that good and loyal Fereldans would have to bend the knee to some old crone in Val Royeaux, whether it is the Empress or the Divine. All these clerics and Templars are just Orlesians wearing the skins of honest Fereldans, and I see past their lies. Your Grace, my son has committed no crime – he's a true-hearted Fereldan man, and my firstborn," said William. "He's your blood, Your Grace, your father's sister's blood."
"And were this not a religious issue, he would be your heir," said Bryce. "The situation is delicate. I allowed you to go against the Chantry and assail the Templars because they had violated the guest right ten years ago, and the banns were demanding Greagoir's head. You dealt with the situation as you always do, Greagoir's army was annihilated, and the Templars were forced to make restitution. Do not anger the Chantry further, because it is a war you will not win. Not even you can overcome the united might . Alexander is a fine young man – let him be in the Circle. He will flourish there. You have three other sons."
"And I promised to do right by all four of them, and my daughters. I won't let my twins whore, drink, and gamble their way to an early death, and I won't let my eldest languish unjustly in a prison. Alexander committed no crime," said William. "He is my firstborn, and the firstborn son inherits. Your Grace, I beseech you, do not put the laws of the Divine above the laws of your king. I would make Arthur my heir, but I am an old man. I will not leave my bannorn in the hands of a child lord. Soon, life will be at a close for me, and my legacy must be secure! For my wife's sake, at the very least, allow him to live free."
"That I cannot do without the approval of the King and the Knight-Commander," said Bryce. "You must make peace with Greagoir, and end this squabbling, and then maybe I will consider it, cousin."
"To that end, I have already made progress," said William. "Knight-Commander Greagoir has encountered a shortage of lyrium, owing to our taxation of foreign convoys on the main northern trade roads. In addition to the exorbitant sums the Grand Cleric pays, this has left his coffers nearly empty. I have agreed to a deal – he and I will jointly sponsor an expedition to the lost Dwarven colony of Varen Thaig, and secure those lyrium deposits. I will then sell it to the Chantry at a reduced price, undercutting Orzammar, and bringing wealth directly to Ferelden. In return, I reduce the taxes to his caravans, and everyone leaves with fuller coffers – if, of course, we manage to secure a lyrium vein."
"Gadrin Varen has landed in Winterport," said Eleanor. "His fleet of seventy cogs is moored in the harbor, and his dwarves number three thousand."
"His people have settled in the Minanter River Valley, near Starkhaven," said William. "The entire community numbers ten thousand dwarves, all of them descendants of the survivors of the colony's loss during the First Blight."
"So you potentially have an army of three thousand dwarves and you expect to take on the darkspawn?" Bryce asked. "Please tell me you are joking, for once."
"I never joke," said William. "I will supplement the force with a thousand of my own soldiers, and Greagoir will be contributing five hundred Templars and a company of Circle mages. We can re-take the thaig, Your Grace."
"Where is it?" Bryce asked.
"Deep in the Korcari Wilds," said William.
Eleanor laughed. "Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir has already called his banners for a campaign in the south. He has six thousand men at his command, all from Gwaren."
"I have heard," said William. "The Chasind have amassed another army. No doubt they intend to pillage the Bannorn and settle atop the ashes. Will you require me to deliver them a chastisement from Highever they will never forget?"
"If your agreement with the Knight-Commander is successful, I would suggest meeting with Teyrn Loghain," said Bryce. "You are the greatest general of the North. He is the greatest in the South. Together, the two of you will make short work of these Chasind. It's likely some of his lords will want the added glory of an expedition to the Deep Roads, and you can add their strength to the Deep Roads."
William gave a grim, barking laugh. "They will regret it before the end. Were there no profit in it, I would have refused the deal. The Deep Roads are not to be trifled with. But lyrium is too lucrative to pass over. We need the money, Your Grace. Our city's coffers stand to gain tremendously, and your dream of having a war fleet to rival Cumberland's may soon be a reality."
"What of the alienages?" Eleanor asked. "We promised our elven subjects that their needs would be attended to."
"They will be," said William. "The elders of several alienages across the teyrnir have been petitioning for the right to form local guard militias. They cite the lack of elven guardsmen as proof that our laws encourage corruption in the ranks and the miscarriage of justice. I refused their demand, but as a compromise, elves have been accepted into existing regiments of the guards across your lands."
"Creating elf regiments would only create armed gangs in the alienages, though I am sympathetic to their wider aims," said Bryce. "Relatedly, Lord Lowan suggested that I commission a sword hunt after hearing the news of that riot in the Denerim alienage."
"Arl Urien is a fool for allowing his subjects to be driven to such lengths and Lord Lowan is a fool if he thinks disarming angry people will be enough to pacify them," said William. "Confiscating weapons outright is a bad idea. Rebellion is inevitable, if you're a tyrant. Fereldans are hard people, in a hard land. They need their arms to protect themselves. The good will generated by allowing them will do more than disarming them ever could to prevent insurrection."
"I am glad you are in agreement," said Bryce. "And I have missed your counsel these many months, old friend."
"It is my honor and privilege to serve Your Grace, whenever and wherever I am needed," said William.
"It's 'Bryce,' William," his liege reminded him.
"Ah, yes, my apologies, cousin," said William.
Eleanor laughed at the sight of the lighthearted and congenial Bryce, who adorned his chiseled, but weather-beaten face with a twinkling smile whenever he was able, contrasted with the grim William, whose frown seemed carved upon his aged visage. She recalled the last time she had seen him smile: at his wedding, toward his new bride and lady wife Helena. He had been a man of thirty-three then, and his bride only nineteen. Twenty-eight long years had passed since then, and William only became grimmer, priding himself in becoming the Teyrn's foremost courtier, and his iron fist when necessary.
A page entered the gardens. "Your Grace, Your Grace, my lord," he began. "The Lady Helena of Silverclaw has arrived."
The page bowed, and Lady Helena Maron strode into the gardens, wearing a dress of dark green velvet under a black fur-lined cape. At her neck, she wore a golden necklace with alternating wolf and falcon brooches. Her hair, once fiery red, had greyed at the roots, but she remained a great beauty. Following at her heels were three of her daughters, and her youngest son, Arthur, who was clad in a suit of armor built specifically for a boy of eight.
Bryce laughed at the sight of Arthur, picked him up, and hoisted him up briefly into the air, before setting him down and ruffling his hair. "This must be your youngest. My lad, you look just like your father when he was your age. How old are you?"
"Eight, Your Grace," said Arthur.
"He has your tendency for formality, William," said Bryce. "Has he been squired to anyone? He looks to be that age…"
"No one, Your Grace," said William.
"I've been the page of Lord Dermot Blanchard of Knighthorse for two years, my lord," said Arthur.
"Lord Blanchard declined to take him on as a squire," said William, peering down at his son. "He claims that his skill with a blade and spear are insufficient, that he is unworthy of knighthood and that he would be better off taking his vows and hiding himself in a cloister."
"I'm not going to the Chantry, Father," said Arthur. "I'm going to be a knight, and Lord Blanchard can get stuffed!"
"Ha! You might yet, boy," said William. He turned to his liege. "I am going to take him under my wing. If I remember, Fergus needed quite a lot of seasoning before he became the exceptional warrior he is today, and no son of mine will ever serve the Chantry."
"I approve," said Bryce. He turned to young Arthur. "I remember, during the darkest days of the rebellion, having to be spirited away in the dead of night to Silverclaw. I was taught by your grandfather, and your father and I were squired to the master-of-arms of the castle."
"Ser Geirmund," said William. "A good man. He died at the battle of Highever, after staying at my side during my eleven years of exile. He taught us everything there was to know in the ways of combat. A damn shame he had to pass so soon."
"What was the Battle of Highever like, Father?" Arthur asked.
William gave his son a warm smile, the first he had shown all day. "We have a long day, son. Perhaps when we are at dinner, we will have an opportunity to talk of those times."
He rose to his feet, turned to his wife, and kissed her. "My love, was your journey here pleasant?"
"It was," said Helena. "Darling, have you arranged for lodgings for our retinue? I am sure everyone will need a good night's rest before the King's arrival."
"Quarters will be made available to you in the castle, of course," said Bryce. "Will Lord Marcus be joining us?"
"His party will be arriving this evening," said Helena. "His scouts have informed us that the entirety of the North Road has been cleared of the recent upsurge in banditry, and it will be safe for Your Grace's vassals to travel through the country."
"Excellent," said Bryce.
"I trust my daughter and sons are in good health?" said Helena. "I saw my eldest marching off with a retinue of guards, heading towards the Docklands."
"Yes, he is being sent off to retrieve your sons," said Eleanor. William's eyes flashed, and Helena wisely chose not to press the issue.
"As for Theresa, she appears to be well-suited to life in the city," said Bryce. "She and Ser Gilmore moved to a manor along the sea. Their estate has been well-appointed with sumptuous furnishings from local craftsmen as well as from Cumberland, per your husband's request that nothing made by Orlesian hands be permitted. The staff and retainers have been chosen from the list of acceptable servants your ladyship provided earlier this month."
"Thank you, Your Grace," said Helena. "Your assistance in this matter is greatly appreciated. Now, if you'll excuse us, we will attend to our retinue and our family. Until tonight, Your Grace, my lady."
Helena bowed, and led William out of the garden, taking her husband by the arm in a way that seemed reminiscent to all watching of a young maiden leading her love along, as they had been years ago. The corridor adjoining the gardens to the main hall was lit by streaming sunlight from the morning sun coming in through windows and the opened doorway behind them. The hallway was guarded at each terminus by a pair of Higheverian soldiers, their armor gleaming silver with golden laurel designs worked into the cuirass and helm.
Helena turned to her husband. "What were you discussing with the Teyrn for so long? I had expected him to greet us in the main hall."
"Richard and James," said William. "I wanted to know why they were gallivanting at a brothel rather than attending to their duties. It became a more involved conversation. We excursed to the subject of Alexander's legitimacy: His Grace won't allow it, at least not in the present clime."
"You want to avoid having to disinherit Richard and James," said Helena.
"They will make a mockery of our family name," said William. "They will deplete our treasury, and bring whores and thieves into our halls. Unless they mature, and become men of responsibility, they will never prosper, and I will not impoverish our family and our people so that they may be uplifted even further."
"Then why not simply strike them from the succession?" His wife asked a question he had oft repeated silently to himself.
William paused for a moment before answering. "The day we married, the day we stood in the chantry of Highever and took our vows as husband and wife, I swore an oath to always watch over my family and do rightly by them. I haven't forgotten those vows, and they are why I don't simply disinherit them. They deserve some of our family's wealth, but I cannot give them Silverclaw. I would be dishonoring my forefathers and depriving my grandchildren if I left our bannorn, castles, and vassals in the hands of wastrels. And I will not deprive my firstborn, who has shown more responsibility than either of them combined."
"William, the last time Alexander lived with us was ten years ago, what makes you think this is the case?"
"Because he has faced demons and learned to master the awesome power of the Fade at his fingertips!" said William. "He has faced down a literal manifestation of evil, prevailed, and emerged from it a better man. When he was first taken, he voluntarily chose to go to spare our people further conflict with the Templars, and because it was his duty. Can you imagine Richard or James doing that? They would have failed at magic, and they will fail in governance because they lack responsibility."
"Then what will you do?" his wife asked him. "You know your oaths: you cannot defy the Teyrn's will."
"I do not know," said William. "The Templars are sharks who have smelled blood in the water. They are circling, waiting for us to show further weakness. I know Ser Greagoir is insincere in his dealings, as I have allies in the Templars, too. But I have some years left in me yet. While I live, all will be set right."
Helena smiled and kissed her husband on his bristly cheek. "Whatever happens, you will always have a loyal counsel in me. But try to keep your head, love. It's a handsome one. I would hate to lose it to the Templars."
William smiled at his wife, and together they walked out of the hall to their quarters in the western keep.
OOOOO
In the time of Mather and Haelia Cousland, the docklands of Highever were just a single, small pier, large enough to accommodate a few of the ships that passed through to exchange some of their wares and resupply their crews on the way to Denerim and Ostwick. The war against Orlais changed everything. The need for a warm water port in the North was paramount for the loyalists, both in terms of keeping the Orlesian Navy at bay and obtaining trade from the Free Marches. Under Bryce Cousland, the port of Highever became a thriving trading hub, playing host to trading fleets from Antiva and Cumberland, to barges from Minrathous and Llomerryn, and to the occasional galley from Starkhaven. The docks stretched for nearly the entire length of Cousland Bay, filled with moored ships and warehouses teeming with fabrics, silks, spices, and other wares from all corners of Thedas, save the lands of the Qunari.
"Do you have any other relatives, Alexander?" Antonia asked. "You never told me about any uncles or aunts…"
"Well, you met my cousin Marcus and his son Lucan," said Alexander. "My father had three younger brothers: Edgar, John, and Charles, and a sister, Henrietta. My uncle John was killed during the war against Orlais, years before my father returned from exile, and my uncle Charles joined the Grey Wardens. Uncle Edgar has three daughters – Moira, Catrin, and Griselda – and rules a keep on an island off the coast of Winterport as a landed knight. Finding marriages suitable for his three nieces has been a source of frustration for my father."
"Shouldn't finding husbands for daughters be a better job for their father?" Antonia asked.
"The word of the richest bann in the North has more negotiating power than a knight," said Alexander. "And my father is very keen on building alliances in the Coastlands and in bannorns along the River Dane. It's part of why my brothers' behavior upsets him so much. No one wants a scoundrel marrying into their family."
Alexander and his group dismounted from their horses near one of the bordellos located just before the wharf. The air was tinged with the scent of the sea breeze, and the air was teeming with the sound of gulls flying overhead.
"Be careful here, Ser," said Ser Drusus Medicus. "Little Minrathous is a dangerous place, even in daylight."
"I have a dozen of my father's sworn swords at my back," said Alexander. "I think we can proceed without fear of attack. Even these people know not to cross the lord steward. Nevertheless, your caution is welcome."
"As you say, Ser."
"Are there really so many Tevinter refugees here?" Antonia whispered. "How can you be sure none of them are slavers?"
"Some are," said Drusus. "They are few in number. Most of the Tevinters living here are lowborn or escaped slaves, and are unwilling to give their former captors the license to continue their trade. They usually deliver the slavers to the Teyrn's men, if they happen upon one."
"You are of Tevinter, and a knight, Ser Drusus," said Antonia.
"Aye, my lady, but my father was a fisherman," said Drusus. "In Minrathous, no one wanted to break bread with fishermen. Our clothes stank of the sea, and our houses were huts built by the docks, in the shadow of the Argent Spire."
"Did your father live to see you become a knight of Ferelden?" Thomas Howe asked.
"Aye, he did," Drusus replied. "It was the happiest day of his life. He died a year later, but he died in the halls of my keep, rather than a hovel. I think he departed contentedly."
Alexander opened the door to the Stalwart Spear. The smell, a mixture of incense, perfume, stale beer, and sweat, wafted through as they walked into the brothel. The floor was made of slats of polished hardwood, and the walls made of stone. Candelabras, affixed to every wall and corner, lit the room, but dimly, and many of the patrons were cloaked in shadow.
"'Ey Sorwan, you 'ear 'bout that mage who gave Raleigh's men a good thrashing three mornings back?" said one patron.
"Yeah, 'e and some of them Ash Knights took 'em on," said Sorwan. "Must bite to be Raleigh. Spends 'alf his life fightin' for Maric, but 'ese Tevinters jus' come in and take the whole lot right under 'is feet!"
"Ye don' go far bettin' agains' Maron, though, and the rumors are this mage fella was 'is son," the first patron replied. Alexander could see that he was a fat man, dressed in a dockworker's ragged and shirt and pants.
"Hah! The Lord Steward!" Sorwan guffawed. "Our Grey Wolf! I remember 'is army crushin' those Templars at Winterport, Dagg. There's a Templar livin' in Shieldsister with one eye taken out. Lord Maron had him half-blinded, to lead the rest back to Kinloch."
"Greagoir must regret lettin' his son slip the leash," said Dagg the dockhand.
"Ain't nothing 'e can do, can he? 'Is men broke the guest right; hospitality's sacred, it is," said Sorwan. "And the Marons are 'alf-Cousland, and 'alf a Cousland is worth more than any Chantry man."
"Perhaps Alexander Maron is wondering why you two gentlemen are gossiping about his exploits when you could easily ask him yourselves," said a voice from the crowd. Alexander turned in his direction, and gripped the hilt of a sword at his belt.
The entire brothel went quiet, and all eyes were on the mage, who was flanked by two Ash Knights.
"Who goes there?" Drusus asked, gripping his sword and withdrawing it halfway up from his scabbard.
"Ain't nobody talkin' to ya, sellsword," said Dagg.
"Quiet, oaf," said his friend Sorwan.
"Everyone here is too busy looking for sheaths to bother hiring out my sword," said the Tevinter man. "Without a contract, my sword remains unsold, when my sword is unsold I've no money, and when I've no money, my sword can't very well find its sheath in this establishment, can it? Ser Mage, for forty silvers, I can have these two louts' throats cut. There's a pretty blonde who's agreed to give me a discount!"
"I congratulate you on your good fortune, but that will be unnecessary," said Alexander. He turned to the silent gathering of people at the bar, or who were gambling by the fire. "I am in search of my brothers. They are twins, both with red hair. They are Marons, so they carry the wolf as their sigil. I've been told this establishment is one they favor in particular."
The room was silent, save for the bar wench, who was busy pouring out frothing mugs of beer from a tap.
"Perhaps we should leave," Antonia whispered in his ear. "Some of these men are leering at me."
Alexander gave her a nod, and looked around. "No one? Is it because I am a mage? Do not alarm yourselves. I only turn Orlesians into toads!"
There was a shout of laughter from a group of Fereldan and Rivaini sailors, and an Orlesian merchant, dressed in a pink chapeau and silk doublet, turned ashen and sank further into his seat.
"Come on now," said Alexander. "Forty silvers to the man who tells me the location of my brothers. Surely money is a language we can all understand."
"They are upstairs, and have rented the best room in this brothel," said the Tevinter sellsword without preamble.
Alexander tossed him a pouch of silver coins. "See? You made your money without cutting throats, and you have my gratitude."
"Much obliged, ser,"
Alexander, Thomas, and Antonia walked up the stairs to another dimly-lit corridor. The walls were painted red and gold, and the wooden floors, rather than being covered with sawdust and hay, was richly carpeted by a rug soft enough to completely muffle their footsteps. The corridor was lined with doors entering into rooms, numbered with faded gold paint. Alexander guessed the best room was the one directly in front of them, for it was behind a set of double rooms underneath an ornately-styled golden frame. The door was the only one made of solid oak, rather than some other, older, rotting piece of wood.
"Hah! Look at this!" said Thomas. A small note was affixed to the door by a wad of wax. Thomas tore it off and began reading: "To Whom It May Concern: This room is the property of Madam Jenneline, proprietor of the Stalwart Spear. It has been rented by Messeres Richard and James Maron of Silverclaw, and as such, is occupied for official business. Please do not disturb, especially if you are one of the following persons: our father William, our mother Helena, or Captain Mayrette of the Highever City Watch. Yours faithfully, Richard and James Maron."
Antonia laughed. "I think they spent more time writing that note than lying with whores."
"Well, I think it's time for them to receive some unexpected guests," said Thomas. He raised his foot to kick the door down, but Alexander stopped him.
"Maybe we should try knocking first, yes?"
Alexander knocked. He could hear the sound of someone falling off the bed that was directly behind the door, stumbling through the room, and hurrying to the door. "What the fuck do you want? We've paid up the entire day! Get lost, you son of a whore!"
"Is that any way to speak of our lady mother, James?"
There was a pause, and then the voice spoke again. "Arthur? You sound like a man grown…"
"It's Alexander, you dolt."
The door wrenched open. The young man who stood before them looked the most like Lady Helena out of all of Bann William's children. His eyes were a bright blue and his hair was a fiery red, like Rose's. He possessed the same high cheekbones as Alexander, but without the aquiline nose, strong jaw, and chiseled face that made his elder brother so resemble their father. Instead, his features were softer. His figure, consequently, was thinner, like that of a dancer, rather than that of a fighter, while still toned with muscle.
"You got out of the Circle?" James asked.
"For now," said Alexander. "I'm here for the tourney. You look well, James. It's been a long time."
"Hah! Too long! You should have written! Hey, Dick! Forget the whores and come out here! Alex's home!" He turned back to Alexander. "Maker's breath, you must have loads of stories to tell about the Tower! But first, we need to give you a proper greeting! Nereena! Get over here! A third Maron brother has joined the festivities!"
"That won't be necessary," Alexander said, quickly interrupting him. "I'm actually here on business for our father."
"In a brothel? Don't be such a bore! We had to pay an arm and a leg – almost literally – for this whore!"
Alexander held the door open before James could leave and fetch the poor woman. "I'm serious, Jim. Father's not pleased."
James's smile vanished. "All right, all right, come in."
Antonia and Thomas followed Alexander inside. James looked over Antonia and smirked. "You, my lady, are a beauty. Is she yours, Alex, old boy? Well done!"
"You don't look a year over fourteen," said Antonia. "This is very awkward, Alexander…"
"They're fourteen," said Alexander. "The day they discovered what a cock was really for, they spent all the gold they received on their naming day to buy the best whores in the city. Father apparently wasn't pleased. He had them cleaning the castle's chamber pots for a month after that."
"Shit, he told you about that?" James asked.
"Of course he did," said Alexander. "Richard! Get up, it's time to go!"
Richard Maron was James' identical twin, and was currently passed out on the bed, amidst a pile of bed sheets, whores, and empty wine bottles. He yawned and finally opened his eyes. "Andraste's tits, James! What time is it? Who the hell is in here! We've bought this room up! Get lost!"
"It's nearly noon and you're speaking to our brother!" said James. "Come on, Richard!"
Alexander looked around the room. The prostitutes that James had hired were all blondes, while Richard seemed to consort with only raven-haired whores. In all, they had purchased seventeen women. A window was open, and sunlight streamed in and illuminated a table filled with bowls of grapes, apples, plums, and peaches, as well as several bottles of wine.
"You've been gone a long time," said Richard. "I heard a…rumor that you were back and kicking the arses of bandits all along the North Road…I'm sorry I didn't hear of your coming."
"And I'm glad I wasn't here to witness yours," said Alexander. "Get dressed. Father wants to speak with you."
Richard groaned. "You've been back a day and already you're Father's lapdog? Jim and I were just having fun!"
"At the expense of both our lord father and of Lord Fergus," said Alexander. "You were expected at the castle, yet you are here, getting drunk and bedding whores. Our family deserves better than a pair of wastrels."
Richard kissed one of the women beside him and then got up. "What does it matter to you? You haven't lived free for a decade, and I am Father's heir, by all the laws of Thedas," said Richard.
"By the Chantry's law," said Alexander. "The Chantry's law is not the king's law, and the kingdom will not suffer fools lightly."
Antonia clearly looked like she wanted to leave as soon as possible, edging toward the door when a few of the whores started giving her lascivious looks. "This discussion of succession is fascinating, but we are on a schedule. Perhaps we can hurry up?"
"Of course," said Alexander. "You're both going home. Guards!"
Drusus returned with the party of knights and guards. His disgust with the Maron twins was apparent as he surveyed the room. "Have any of these harlots offended you, or attacked you, Ser?"
"They have done neither," said Alexander. "Please escort my brothers back to Castle Cousland. They have committed no crimes, so treat them gently, but keep them under guard until Lord Maron has spoken to them."
"As you command," said Drusus.
James and Richard were hastily dressed and then marched out of the room by a trio of Ashcrown Knights.
Thomas cleared his throat and said quietly to Alexander, "I know your father wants us to arrest these whores and send them to a cloister, but your brothers hired close to twenty of them. That's probably close to half the whores in this place, and if we parade them in front of those drunks downstairs, we'll start a riot."
"My father is not a man who takes insubordination lightly," said Alexander. "Inform the madam that the Maron brothers have decided to continue their party in a more luxurious setting at the manor of Lord William Maron on the Northern Cliff."
He led them rest of them out of the room. The Tevinter sellsword approached him as he descended back down to the bar. "Departing so soon, my Lord Mage?"
"I am," said Alexander. "Please excuse me."
"Before you go, I have something I wish to give you," he said, walking into the light and handing him a sheaf of letters, each enclosed with a wax seal. Alexander could see that the man's face was covered in scars, with a particularly nasty one passing diagonally over his left eye, where an eyepatch concealed the empty socket. His teeth were yellowed and his breath was rank with the smell of pipe weed. A golden incisor glinted in the candlelight as he smiled.
They walked down from the clients' quarters back through the tavern. Alexander looked at the letters. "What are these supposed to be?"
"A letter of introduction from Josmyn, Lord Gareford," said the Tevinter. "I served a number of duties for him whilst he was the Teyrn's treasurer."
"You were a courtier?" Antonia asked. "I must confess my extreme skepticism."
"Keep your confessions for the chantry, my young lady," he replied. "I am interested in neither sin nor skepticism."
"If I were to corroborate this account with Lord Gareford himself, I hope for your sake, sellsword that you have introduced yourself honestly," said Alexander. "But what could a man such as you offer my family?"
"Please bring the rest of those documents to Lady Helena," said the Tevinter. "They contain information for her eyes only, and are of value. Tell her that they are compliments of Severio Taurinus."
Realization dawned on Antonia's face, and Thomas gave the Tevinter a wary gaze. Alexander, however, was unmoved. "Your method of introduction is irregular, Master Taurinus. I was under the impression that you were a merchant and a thief, and I would have to punish you for lifting money from my belt before being properly introduced."
"Thievery is by contract only; I'm not a cutpurse," said Severio. "If you have need of me, please visit my warehouse on the southern docks. A member of your family is always welcome."
He doffed his cap and quickly left. Thomas looked at his retreating figure and sighed, "The more I see assorted rabble like him, the more I understand why your father is always so grumpy about everything that goes on in this country."
"Didn't the Bann want a list of possible candidates for a replacement elder of his alienage?" Antonia asked. "I doubt a man like that could just walk up to him and say, 'Excuse me, Ser. I know I look like I'm obviously up to no good, but I have information important to the governance of your lands.'"
"If he were ever that honest, I'd recommend him for a position at our court," said Alexander. "Antonia, I am sorry we brought you here. I did not expect us to stay for longer than a moment."
"As long as we're away from this place and the leering men and women within, I am content," said Antonia as they walked out of the Stalwart Spear.
Alexander mounted Orion and took hold of the reins. "We should depart for our manor. By now, our retinue will have settled in their chambers there."
"Where is the manor?" Thomas asked.
"On the North Cliff, across the street from the Temple," Alexander replied. The neighborhood sat atop a rocky outcropping which overlooked the docks and the city below. Almost the entire edge of the cliff was occupied by the Bann of Silverclaw's manor. The Bann of Winterport had extensive estates on the Cliff, in compensation for the comparatively little land he possessed in the country, and due to being the Teyrn's father-in-law. The banns of Snowborne, Last Watch, and Ashcrown had manor houses on Crown Street, while the Banns of Harlow, Lowbarrow, and Harper's Ford were consigned to finding lodgings with the Teyrn, a friendly family, or if they were turned away, at an inn. The party set off, content in leaving the Docklands behind.