Part 2: Fear
Chapter 10: Solutions
"Quiet!" Loghain struggled to control his ever-rising voice amidst the sea of squabbling politicians. His hands gripped the side of the round conference table, till finally the left side of his mouth twitched and he seethed through gritted teeth.
"I said QUIET!"
The nobles silenced. Only the creak of the benches beneath the weight of all the nobles filled the silence. Aedan sat in the general seating area the farthest away. At the centre table saw Loghain, his father, and several other Arls. As Teyrns, Bryce and Loghain possessed authority second only to the king. A king whose seat now lay absent.
Weeks had passed since the King was supposed to arrive at his destination. Weeks had passed since word from him. In those few weeks chaos had been brewing. And now it had been let loose: Loghain had called the Landsmeet earlier this year to deal with ever despondent situation.
"Have we heard any more news, Loghain?" asked Bryce.
Loghain wringed his hands. "Reports from Antiva have come in. They have found the wreckage of the boat that he sailed on- along with several dead bodies. None of them are Maric's. " Loghain wrinkled his brow in worry. Any last remnants of his youthful appearance had vanished, leaving only a man consumed by stress.
Eamon spoke up: "Loghain, it's been a month since he was supposed to dock. And with this news, we have to assume-".
Loghain whipped around to Arl Eamon, fury in his eyes. "He's not dead!" Loghain slammed his fist down upon the table. It shook beneath his blow and rattled the very floor. The cries and bickering of the nobles erupted with this news. Loghain stood up and raged, "Maric wouldn't die from some silly storm! It must have been the damn Antivans! They must have taken him or something! They-"
"Loghain." Arl Eamon placed his hand on the man's shoulder. Loghain leaned against the table. His gaze fell to the floor. Aedan could only imagine what the man was thinking. Aedan had heard the rumors of how he had loved Maric's bride, who died shortly after Cailan's birth. And now his best friend had died.
After some silence, Loghain sat down at the table. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "What do you suggest, Eamon?"
"For now, Fereldan needs a strong leader to keep it in check. As Teyrns, you and Bryce will need to take up any unfinished matters Maric had, and keep the kingdom in check."
"And then what?"
"Cailan and Anora will assume the throne."
Loghain's expression softened at the mention of his daughter. He gave a grunt.
"Is Cailan even ready to ascend the throne? He's still only a young man," interjected one Arl.
"He's about as young as Maric was," Loghain begrudgingly admitted, "but much less experienced. I will see to it that he is ready. And besides, he will not be alone."
Loghain smiled at his daughter from a distance. Anora stood in the crowds amongst the nobles. Unlike Cailan, she had chosen to attend, as she was somewhat enthusiastic about the political scene.
"All those in favor?"
Those present murmured and looked at one another, but there was no other choice but for the nobles to raise their hands. The blood of King Calenhad had to live on.
It had always been a strange concept to Aedan, why the king had to be of the same lineage. It made sense symbolically: a common ancestry around which to unite the people. But what if the successor turned out to be some sort of lazy corrupt fool? Cailan certainly wasn't that, but he certainly was no Maric either. He had not freed his country, he had no formal combat experience, and had very little experience in the political world.
He eyed Anora. A thin, beautiful woman with radiant blond hair that fell to her shoulders, but her professional aura stood out the most: how she stood, how she spoke, even the way she breathed- controlled, precise, elegant. Aedan had seen her in court many times before, although never had the pleasure of meeting her. She was always discussing the latest the matters of the court with the Arls and Banns, and frequently impressed them with her solutions and knowledge. His mother spoke extensively of Anora, having often met up to advise her.
As he looked around the room, he noticed that some with raised hands did so with sour expressions. They all had reasons to be displeased. Anora and Loghain, after all, descended from common blood. Although King Calenhad's legacy would be preserved, other nobles would have preferred their own daughters to that of an inferior commoner, but Loghain had always been Maric's right hand man and had arranged the marriage since long ago. Furthermore, no other woman, noble or common alike, could rule the country better than Anora.
"I think that's enough for today," grumbled Loghain, "We shall reconvene tomorrow to discuss further matters. The Landsmeet is dismissed."
The rabble of nobles carried on as they slowly proceeded out the doors.
"Aedan!" His father walked over with Fergus, who had been seated much closer to the table. As the next in line, Fergus needed to make his presence seen and heard more. "Your brother and I have some business to attend to with Arl Eamon," said Bryce, "Do you think you can stay out of trouble for a couple of hours?"
"In Denerim, Father?" Aedan grinned. "Probably not."
Aedan grumbled as the party entered the Chantry. He looked up at the statue of Andraste then glanced away.
"Are you grumbling?" Leliana gave him a suspicious look. Her hands were placed squarely on her hips as she halted in mid walk. Aedan got the feeling he didn't want to tell Leliana the truth.
"No no," lied Aedan, "It's just my stomach. You know, Grey Wardens having big appetites and all." He laughed half heartedly and rubbed his stomach.
"Didn't you just eat?"
"We do have big appetites." Alistair rubbed his stomach and grinned. Leliana turned away, her curiosity satisfied. Morrigan barked at Aedan. If dogs could sinisterly grin, the look on Morrigan's face was just that. "Quiet you," Aedan muttered. Morrigan scampered off outside of the Chantry. Apparently she enjoyed it as much as he.
The lit candles flickered against the walls. The sun had begun to set outside. The last rays of light faded from the tinted glass. Inside, people kneeled in prayer. A low constant whisper lingered in Aedan's ears.
"Maker, keep my family saf-"
"Andraste, praise thy nam-"
"Give us guidance in this tim-"
"-save us."
Aedan grimaced at all the desperate people. They, like him, had lost everything, but at least he could defend himself. All they could rely on was the hope that someone would come to save them.
Dirty footprints and mud littered the inner hallway. The group came to a slighter cleaner area, filled with books and ancient relics. The Revered Mother sat reading, her hair tied in neat buns, her robe neatly falling down her thin, aging figure. She smiled as Leliana approached. "Ah, Leliana, there you are. Shall you be joining us for the Chant tonight?" The Revered Mother noticed the bloodied scrapes on Leliana's robes. "Ah. So you have found warriors to travel with I see." The woman sighed and put down her book.
"Yes." Leliana smiled bittersweetly. The Revered Mother stood up and held her arms open to Leliana. The red haired sister embraced the Revered Mother. "I have never known such peace as I have found here. But I must go." Leliana's eyes moistened.
The Revered Mother smiled and planted a single kiss on Leliana's forehead. "Then go my child. And always remember that you carry the Maker in your heart. You will never be too far from us."
Leliana bowed and left to retrieve her things. The Revered Mother turned to Aedan. "And who might you be, that Leliana trusts to travel with?"
"We are Grey Wardens," said Aedan. The Revered Mother's mouth twitched and she shifted in place. "Ah, that is...troublesome. You have heard the news of what your order has done."
"They are lies and slander from Teyrn Loghain, to cover up his betrayal."
After a moment's hesistance, the woman nodded. "I… very well. I am old enough to know that the game of politics is a complicated one. I shall take your word as long as you do not cause trouble."
Leliana returned clad in worn leather armor. Aedan spotted several daggers strapped to the young woman- one to her arm, another to her boot, another up higher along her thigh-
"And just where are you looking, hmmm?" giggled Leliana at Aedan. He blushed and coughed into his hand. "Anyways, I wanted to ask you something, Revered Mother. I'd like to have the qunari released into my care."
The Revered Mother glared at him, shaking her head. "That man is a murderer. Regardless of whatever purposes you Wardens may have for him, I do not wish to have the blame of his next victims on my hands."
"Please," pleaded Aedan, "The Blight is coming. For every darkspawn the qunari slays whilst with us, that is another victim spared from their clutches. Another step which brings us closer to ending this damn thing."
A sigh escaped the Revered Mother's lips. "Leliana, what do you think of this?" The old woman turned to Leliana. "Can we trust your new friend?"
"I…"The sister hesitated. "These are strange times, but with Aedan, the qunari may do some good for Ferelden."
The Revered mother turned towards the window and leaned against the railing, staring out at all the refugees littered about Lothering. Her fingers drummed against the rail. She turned back and held out a rusty key. "Very well. He is your charge now."
"Thank you for vouching for us, Leliana." Aedan pushed open the doors of Chantry. Night had almost fallen- they needed to make camp soon.
"It was no problem," replied the Sister.
"If I may ask, why? You barely know us."
Before Leliana could respond, an anguished howl ruptured through the air.
"The end is nigh! The Blight approaches! It shall consume your wives and children!"
Outside in the Chantry courtyard, a Chasind man ranted. Ragged and bloodied, the man staggered around from refugee to refugee. He howled at each of them, speaking of despair and death.
"Ah! AH!" he cried, pointing his quivering finger at Aedan. "He is marked by them! The darkness is within him!"
The townspeople glanced towards Aedan, apprehensive looks on their beleaguered faces. Children huddled against their mother's legs. Aedan stepped back from the Chasind man. He smiled and raised his hands in protest. "I am not one of them. Do I look sick or tainted?"
"I can feel it! I can sense it. That lingering scent of rot and darkness..." The man tapered off as he gazed in horror into the distance. His eyes clouded over as he relived memories within his head. He held his own sholders and shivered. Aedan grimaced at the sight of the man- judging by his appearance, he had come from near Ostagar. Aedan approached him and stilled the man's shaking arms.
"You poor man. What happened?"
The man teared up. "I watched...I watched as all I love was slaughtered. As the darkspawn tore at their innards. As they dragged my wife and daughter screaming away." The Chasind hyperventilated with ragged breath.
Aedan gave him a pat on the shoulder and let the Chasind breath it out. Once the man before him fell silent and calmed, Aedan whispered, "You should stop scaring these people. I don't think you're family would have liked to see you like this."
The man tearfully nodded and ran off. Even after he had left however the crowd still murmured in hushed tones. "But...what if he's right?" whispered one of the woman. The hushed whispers now became a roar of despair. "Oh Maker, we're all going to die!" gasped another man. The movements of the people became more frantic. Their voices reeked of fear.
Aedan turned to the crowd. Enough was enough. "Quiet!" he roared. The crowd silenced. The dead air hung between him and the quivering villagers.
"Do not waste time with despair. The Blight is not yet here. You still have time to flee, and to live. Go north!"
They whispered no longer of death, but of the north. However, the villagers remained where they were, still uncertain. Aedan too was unsure of how fast the Blight was moving. But he had to try and get these people to move.
"I am a Grey Warden, and I swear on my life that I will stop this Blight. Do not fear."
One man stepped turned to the others. "The Warden's right! There's still time!" The others began to breathe easier, and their trembling voices returned to normal. Aedan turned away: he had done all he could.
"Mmm...how forceful," came Morrigan's voice. Aedan saw Morrigan approach the group from the forest clearing.
"Decided to drop the dog disguise? Sure that's safe?"
"The templars are departing back into the Chantry to tend to the refugees for the night. It would be be rude of me to not take advantage of their absence. And besides, if they come back-"
Morrigan's hand glowed faintly with a flicker of flame.
"-I'll take care of them."
"No, you will not. We are already wanted for betraying the king, I really don't think crimes against the Chantry will endear us to the people of Ferelden," groaned Alistair.
Morrigan approached Leliana, and carefully sized the red haired rogue up. "Hmm...I hope that your time in the Chantry has not left you weak and addled."
Leliana's face reddened with fury. Just as she was about to say something, Leliana held her tongue and smiled. The edges of her mouth twitched. She stretched her hand out. "I am Leliana, it's pleasure to meet you Morrigan."
Morrigan glanced at the outstretched hand and Leliana's smile. She scowled and turned away.
Whilst Leliana silently fumed, Morrigan pointed towards the highway. "We should make some distance before nightfall so we can make camp safely. Have you decided where we are headed?"
"We're going to the Circle of Magi first. There's talk of demons overtaking the tower, and I'd rather our mages alive then dead." Aedan slung his knapsack over his back. He picked up a longer package wrapped in cloth as well. Over in the distance, he could make out the faint glow of torches by the highway entrance. "Let's get Sten and get out of here."
The cold wind rattled against the door of Sten's cage. His face numbed the pain. Days in a cage with little food, water, or clothing would do that. Perhaps this was his final fate- to be trapped in this cage until the blight consumed him. His back slumped against the cage. His breathing slowed and his eyes wavered. He had not slept for awhile- perhaps a little shut eye would-
"Hey!"
Sten's eyes shot open. Aedan's fingers drummed against the rusted cage.
"You can sleep later. We've got work to do." Aedan twisted the key in the lock. Of all the things he had encountered in this land, Sten found the click of the lock as the door opened to be the most exhilarating. He closed his eyes and breathed in the air. It smelled better. He took his first step out.
"I suppose it's too much to hope that you've got some gear stashed away," asked Aedan.
"It is."
Aedan tossed the long clothed object to Sten. The qunari ripped off the canvas to reveal a dulled steel greatsword. "I picked it up from the merchant. It's not much, but judging from the callouses on your hands you wield larger weapons."
"I do. Thank you." The qunari ran his fingers down the hilt. His hands ached for a familiar sword, but this would do for now. He closed his hands around the hilt and strapped the sword to his back.
Whilst the group approached the highway, Leliana said aside to Aedan, "You wanted to know why I vouched for you?"
Aedan nodded.
"You could have killed those men back in the bar. You could have just walked right past that man at the Chantry. You could have let Sten rot in his cage."
"So?"
"You have a good heart."
Aedan chuckled. "I have a pragmatic heart."
As they approached the stair to the highway, a mob of villagers came from the front. Gregory growled furiously at them, his hair on end. They held pitchforks and torches in their hand. Although Aedan didn't want to hurt them, they seemed hostile.
"Gentlemen, what seems to be the problem?" asked Aedan.
"You're the Grey Warden, aren't you?" said one man. The torch in his hand shook as he stepped forward.
"What's it to you?"
"That big bounty on your head. It could feed a lot of starving people." He tried to make a threatening face, but Aedan could only stare at confusion at his bared teeth. Aedan's hand twitched near his sword as the crowd of people inched closer. Dirty refugees and thin looking villagers surrounded them. Alistair raised his shield up whilst Leliana discreetly drew a dagger.
"You really want to do this?"
"We have to or we'll die," came the man's desperate response.
Aedan stepped forward.
"I'm warning you! Just come peaceably!"
Aedan stepped with his left.
"Stay back!" The man drew a dagger. His legs trembled and sweat flowed down his bald head.
Aedan stepped with his right.
The man lunged forward with his dagger, roaring as he did so. Aedan whipped his shield from his back and smashed the man's face against it. The man crumpled to the ground. He moaned through broken teeth and a bloodied mouth.
"I have had enough of people trying to fucking kill me." Aedan threw his shield and sword to the ground. Enough was enough.
"Aedan, what the hell are you doing!" Alistair tried to pull Aedan backwards. Aedan brushed off his hand, and looked at him.
"I need to send a message. Before this gets out of hand."
"Speaking of which," he muttered as several men drew closer. Aedan clenched his teeth and rushed in. He parried the incoming punches of two men, and chopped one man's torch to the ground. Aedan's fists barraged the few brave enough to step forward. He could feel the taint within him. It pulsed against his veins. It burned against his heart. Each punch he delivered was followed by a sickening crunch of broken bones. He felt different than before, even after the Joining- stronger, faster, heavier. Perhaps it had taken time for the taint to sink in. Perhaps it just needed enough anger.
He pummeled one villager into the ground with a series of rapid punches and hooks. The man crumpled to the ground a bloodied mess. Aedan, surrounded by the villagers groaning on ground in pain and cracked bones, turned to the rest.
"We done?" Aedan wiped the blood from his knuckles. The villagers didn't budge. He made a fist at them and those in the immediate front scurried backwards.
Aedan picked up his sword and shield off the ground. The villagers slowly approached the beaten whilst Aedan departed. People could get desperate when faced with starvation. Aedan was glad to have avoided their deaths, even if he did have to leave a few beaten.
Leliana's mouth had gone agape at Aedan's actions. She looked between Aedan and the villagers again and again. "You didn't need to beat them that badly!"
"I told you-" Aedan eased out a creak in his neck, then wiped his bloodied knuckle on the collar of his armor, "I have a pragmatic heart."