Ch. 14: Bringing Down the House Part II
Journal Entry #7 (Alistair's back!)
Now that we got the Cousland back, it's time to settle things straight. I still don't appreciate being volunteered to the throne, but I suppose after what Anora has put us through, there's no denying Loghain's shrewdness. The flashbacks of Ostagar haven't waned, and – you would not have guessed it – my patience was really starting to go. Turns out the dwarf has a good cause in berserking, because it was the only thing I felt like doing at this point.
So one evening at Eamon's estate as we dined on delicious turkey meat, mashed potato, Old Flagon's red wine and strawberry mince pie dessert to celebrate Rowan's return, I mustered the courage to talk with Oghren.
"So…that's your fifth glass there," I said meekly. "Can you teach me how you do that, use drinks to fuel your berserker rage?"
"Huh? Heheh, this ain't my fifth glass fannyboy, it's the first amongst many, many orgasms," Oghren replied luridly.
"Right, forget I said anything," I said quickly. This seemed tougher than I thought.
" – so I made love to her all night, and the next morning I finally broke it to her; I was an assassin tasked with killing her, and I could not fail lest I lose my life," Zevran continued, recounting a story of one of his contracts. "I apologized incessantly, of course, and she felt shocked and sorry at the same time. I think she sympathized with me, because when I sank the blade into her heart, she did not resist."
"Yer sodding beast, that was mighty dramatic!" Oghren complimented.
Do I ever meet anyone sane in my life? I muttered to myself.
"To Rowan Cousland, the mightiest Grey Warden, avenger of the just!"
After we had all but finished the scraps, we retired to our rooms for the night. The Landsmeet had been called, and Loghain was sure to bring plenty of ammunition against us. I did not sleep and instead spent half the night reading on how to make persuasion speeches, looking "nobly", and proper dining etiquette in the library. To say that I was nervous is an understatement.
Just when I had figured out on which side of the plate to place the fork, Leliana rushed into the room I was reading in.
"Oh, you're up...what are you doing so early?" she asked.
"I was – uh…" I stuttered, quickly closing the book about royal courtship. "Just leafing through some books on Ferelden's history of kings…"
She raised a suspicious eyebrow. Bluffing a bard was impossible, as far as I knew.
"Uh, nevermind. Carry on."
"Arl Eamon requests that you get ready as soon as you are able; we are gathering at the royal palace soon."
"Of course, I'll be on it," I said, barely suppressing the urge to hurl.
The tension in the air was no joke. When we had arrived, Eamon had already began rallying the nobles for support against the conspirators, and it was only minutes later that Loghain presented himself.
"A spectacular performance, Eamon, but none of us are taken by it," he announced to the assembly. "Tell us, Warden, how will the Orlesians take our nation from us?"
"The Blight is the problem now, not Orlais!" Rowan countered.
The argument progressed for a great length about Loghain's crimes against the nation before the attention was turned to me, much to my dismay.
"If he were a true son of Maric, I would not hesitate to swear fealty to him," Loghain rebuked. "But I see nothing of Maric in this pup."
Yes, because of my hair, no doubt. Regardless, chaos eventually erupted and the Landsmeet Chamber would have been reduced to rubble had it not been for the Grand Cleric's intervention. She suggested that the matter be settled through a traditional duel, to which I was again volunteered by the Cousland. I don't think my legs held up nicely after that.