Everything is, of course, property of BioWare; I'm just playing with their toys. So they have my thanks. (As does the Dragon Age Wiki: it's a great help for sudden questions like 'why does that Innkeeper pay you for bringing him so many random love letters?'. Turned out the answer was 'potential blackmail material', but Max doesn't need to know that. He and I are too busy to remember flavour text for side-quests.)
Oh, hello. Movement. They must be starting to arrive... which would explain why we're standing out here like idiots, in the corridor. Old Man Varel has to announce Mistress before she can enter the room... even though everyone knows she's here, since they weren't turned away. Also, she's the fucking reason they came out here to Turnip Keep. But she's the one stuck standing around waiting, because reasons. Stupid nobles and their stupid traditions. Wait... ah, now I get it! Turn-up Keep, because random weirdos keep turning up. Well played, Wader. I'll bring you back an eel, from the fish market. They sell those, right?
I yawn. Maybe we should have just pretended not to be home, and had Garevel tell them all to piss off... no, that wouldn't work. The portcullis control is on the outside so you can't lock people out. Turnip Keep is a silly place.
"Lords and ladies" I hear Old Man Varel through the curtain. I guess that's our cue. Furgus gives Mistress a reassuring nod, as she pulls it aside and leads me and Furgus out into the hall. "I present the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, and Arl of Amaranthine." She has a name, you old bastard, so - wait... what the fuck, Old Man? Did you seriously just call her the 'Arl'?! Not to be rude, but I'm going to have to bite you when everyone leaves.
At least this guy immediately bowed, and stayed down. I like you, buddy. What's the word.. deference! Yes. Your deference does you credit.
"Bann Esmerelle of Amaranthine, as customary, you have the honour of beginning." You're our 100th customary, so you won the right to speak first. Or something. Huh – she's got a weird rodent face. Make sense, considering she was apparently in league with Toad-Face.
"I promise that I, Bann Esmerelle Brodie, will be faithful to the Arl in matters of life, limb and earthly honour." So you're doing this 'Arl' bullshit as well, huh? So much for honour...and I could easily rip your leg open, to make you bleed away; so don't count on your limbs or life. Earthly – sure. We'll throw your corpse in the nearest bog. "Never will I bear arms against her or her heirs. So I say in the sight of the Maker." Yeah – that would probably mean something, except even his most devoted zealots say he stopped giving a shit and abandoned the world. Swear to Dane, and then maybe I'll believe you... Rat-Face. Lord Deference is next. Hopefully his vow is better.
"I promise that I, Lord Eddelbrek..." Or it's just the same exact thing. Please tell me we don't have to listen to all of them repeat it. This'll take a thousand hours...
Holy shit, are we done yet?!
"And so, the ceremony is complete."
Great – it only cost us precious hours of our lives, never to reclaim. Half of an hour is still an hour, so shut up. I'm counting it.
"Long live the Warden-Commander!" Lord Deference declares. Yeah, I definitely like this guy.
Mistress must, as well, because we're walking over to him first. Blow it out your arse, Rat-Face; we like this guy better. Also, you moved back into the crowd a little. We greet who's closest first, we're not gonna flit up and down the hall. That'd be stupid.
"Honoured to meet you, Warden-Commander. You come to us during desperate times."
"Not more nonsense about your precious farms, Eddelbrek" the guy next to him interrupts. Shut up, arsehole! Nobody was talking to you!
"Out in the plains, beyond the comfort of city walls, the situation is dire!" He's right, Arsehole; Mistress and I have seen it first-hand. Brekkie knows what's up.
"Speak your mind, Lord Eddelbrek" Mistress offers, ignoring Arsehole. "My father called you a friend, after all." Okay, that was meant for Arsehole, I assume. Know your place, you freak.
"So you remember me, young Cousland" Brekkie smiles. "Well, not so young anymore." The smile falters. "I assure you, I had no idea about Howe's treachery... but that is not my concern today." Probably not, but it's still good to hear. "Even as we feast, today, the peasants on our lands are starving or worse."
"The city's defences are more important" Arsehole cuts in. If you interrupt us again, Arsehole, I'll be ripping your leg open, to test your oath.
"The silos may be full, now, but if our farmers die, how will you replenish them?" The silos or the farmers?
"Ser Timothy and yourself both raise valid concerns" Mistress offers, with a peaceful tone. "I shall give each the due consideration." Arsehole must be satisfied, because he leaves with a bow. "You aren't wrong about the situation" Mistress tells Brekkie. "... I arrived too late, to the Turnoble lands."
"I heard you dealt with their attackers, at least" Brekkie replies, sympathetically. "More reason to make sure it doesn't happen again?"
She nods, with determination. "It shall not, if it be within my power."
"I see that Lord Eddelbrek wastes no time, in canvassing you for troops to defend his farms" Rat-Face says, suddenly joining in. Yeah, I see you back there, Arsehole. You only left to send this idiot over. "Do not be deceived, Commander. He only cares about his livelihood." Bullshit, lady. If that were true, he'd wait until the neighbouring farms were overrun before asking Mistress, so he could buy them up cheap in a few months and control the entire Arling. "Amaranthine is the jewel of the Arling, and must be protected." Oh, your city? Who's pushing their own barrow now, huh? Fuck off, and take Arsehole with you.
"You think the city more important than the people, Bann Esmerelle?" Mistress asks.
"It's merely pragmatism, of course" Rat-Face answers. "Our southern brethren faced similar dilemmas, less than a year ago. Yet I understand their hamlets are already rebuilding, simply with straw and wood. Amaranthine was built over generations, with far more than straw. If she falls, our great Arling will be diminished."
Oh, you're good. Not great, but you still know your words well.
Mistress rubs her chin, and walks with Rat-Face. "You raise a good point – I understand West Hills is still facing a lengthy reconstruction. There's a lesson there."
"Precisely, girl. Mac Tir obsessed over the villages and countryside... for different reasons, yes, but it still led to disaster for Wulff. Did it not?"
"You believe a centralised approach will work better" Mistress muses, as they move about the room to swap greetings with various people.
"Most certainly. You seem wise enough to learn from other people's mistakes, and Ferelden was far too fragmented during the Blight." Rat-Face pauses. "If half of this gossip about the new incursions by Darkspawn turns out to be correct..."
Mistress frowns. "True. They already struck here, hoping to kill me. If I learnt anything during the last year, it's to only allow my enemies one chance at a strike. They failed, and now I shall destroy them before they can regroup."
"Indeed" Rat-Face nods, looking impressed. "That's what I hoped to hear. Some might whisper you survived by blind luck, but women like us know luck requires a great deal of hard work."
"Too true... I look forward to working you, to secure our Arling."
Rat-Face gives a quick kneel, before moving off to talk to some other woman. Mistress glances to her left, while I nudge her. Mistress, this might turn into a real party after all... that girl lurking over by the bookshelf has been watching you intently for a while. She doesn't carry herself like a noble, either, so I'm guessing she bluffed her way in just to get a look at you.
Mistress looks over, and notices the nervous girl as well. There you go – she either has a message, or a bad case of infatuation. Of course, this is you we're talking about, so it might be both.
"Warden-Commander!" she stammers, when we approach. "... We've all heard so much about you!" Yep, here we go again... "So many good things – unbelievable things!" Oh, she's got it bad. She glances about, straightening herself up. "But many of those deeds cost people here chances at advancement" she whispers. Uhh... so are you here to chat Mistress up, or get revenge for something?! This woman's a bard like Chirpy, I assume. Or this is a warning, and she's dumb enough to say this shit where anybody can hear her, if they're careful enough.
Mistress leans closer, warily. "If you're talking about what I think you are, I'm well aware of the dangers. And why we shouldn't be talking about this, in public."
"Perhaps you are not aware of their determination." What, are you calling Mistress a liar?! Not all Warden-Commanders are Liars, lady. Don't lump Mistress in with the last guy! "I've... intercepted some of their missives. They are cryptic thing..." Oh, those things again? We solved this mystery during the Blight – turns out they were just random love letters. We sold them to an innkeeper. I don't know why the old pervert wanted them, and I don't care to find out. "Alone, they are unintelligible; but together they form a pattern." … Or this woman's a conspiracy nut. 'The shadows in the painting of you, standing on the Archdemon's body, are wrong. That proves the Blight was a hoax!' This is all your fucking fault, Nail. You spent so long, telling these freaks there was no Blight that they still believe it. The only way to beat insane nonsense is with an even dumber theory... hmm. I look up, triumphant. I've got a doozy! Hey, nutcase? Did you know... that old King Maric isn't dead? Yep, he totally staged that shipwreck so he could retire and live a secret life of debauchery out in the middle of nowhere. With a scantily-dressed Antivan strumpet, because why not. She even still has her brothel stage-name... something real obvious, too. 'Hey, big man – You wanna-'... Yeah! Her stage-name is 'Yawana'. Or something like that. I don't know – we Mabari don't have brothels and such. Well, we do get studded out to Mabari breeders if our bloodline is good. Or we help save the world. I'm both, so you better believe they wanted to hire me for a while. That was a fun couple of months, let me tell you... even if I had to be away from Mistress, while she went to Wisehive to see the Warden-King. Huh. Does that make Mistress my madame? I suppose it's not the worst job in Thedas, getting pimped about like that... but I didn't see any of the money, and it's tiring work after a while. There were times I just wanted to nap and let my energy bar refill. Alas, we Lords have to work for the public good – and this particular public good just so happened to involve getting my end away with some fine Mabari bitc... wait, I guess they'd actually be called dams, because they're certified breeders.
Mistress suddenly nudges me. Huh?! … What were we talking about? Wait, where did the conspiracy freak go? Did she... walk away, while I was deep in thought? That's just bloody rude, that is. Fine, then she better not expect me to pay attention next time. 'Did you know Thedas is secretly round? That's why the Qunari suddenly appeared out of nowhere! They sailed down from the top of the ball. And because it's uphill, they can't sail back up there, which is why they won't leave.' Well screw you, nutcase. I'll just burp on your shoes! What nonsense – everyone knows Thedas is shaped like the thighbone of a druffalo. The things you humans call stars are really distant ants in the sky, watching us at night to see if they can pick the meat off the apparent thighbone. But our nocturnal torch movements and candle-lights scare them away. Why do you think people even light candles and fires, instead of just going to sleep when night falls? For leisure?! No, my poor little idiot – it's so the sky-ants don't devour us all. Tcch... bloody conspiracy freaks, ignoring the truth in favour of whatever bizarre notions their fevered brains vomit up. The ancient Dwarves knew about the Ants! That's why they tunnelled out subterranean cities and taught their children to fear the open sky... alas, living underground for so many Ages drove them all insane and they forgot the reasons for it.
Why is it so quiet, suddenly? Everyone's leaving – oh, the party must be over. Lady Conspiracy Freak didn't even get to hear how the Ants are why the Dalish never stay in one place too long. "May the Dread Wolf never hear your steps. Nor the Ants see them." Everyone always forgets to say the second part. Probably. I don't know. But they're probably why Schleets stick to forests – no hands means no fires at night, and the trees make it harder for Ants to find them.
I wander over, to where all the others are meeting. "Alright, that seems to have gone well, I suppose" Mistress says. "Anything to report?"
Our sentries on the battlements haven't run in, screaming, so we don't have to worry about Ants today.
"The booze is weak" Braids answers. Yeah, that's helpful. Wait... maybe it actually is! We can do the Red Cliff trick again, only this time use it to burn the Ants instead of the attacking dead guys. "So weak that the drunk idiot I talked to must have gotten smashed before showing up."
"Lord Guy did sound particularly uneven" Furgus nods. If you don't know his name, just say so! 'Lord Guy'... You human people are so rude when you try to be polite. Don't you agree, Old Man?
"He was dressed like one, yeah" Braids shrugs. "Anyway, the woman with him was whispering, and occasionally pointing people out. By my experience with Noble Caste, I reckon she was trying to talk him into something shifty. Probably about you, Boss. "
Mistress frowns. "Which woman?" Furgus, if you say 'Lady Woman'... I may have to pee on you. Just don't.
Old Man ponders something for a moment. "Lady Morag, I believe."
Who the hell is Morag?! … And what do you believe her about?
"Right" Mistress sighs. "She was meant to get the Broughtens' lands, so of course she's part of this."
Scruffy shrugs. "I didn't hear anything, but Lady Packton briefly glared at you a couple of times. That was it, for my part of the room."
"This isn't my strong suit, so I only really overheard one of them talk about you" Queenari says, leaning forward in her chair. "It's not really useful to all this, but you might want to know. The young girl, who was standing near the door. She couldn't stop gushing about you rescuing her, to anyone who'd listen. All about your prowess and ample virtues. That kind of thing." Oh, Eileen Two-Legs and her dad were here? "She looked cute, if you're into people like her..." she shrugs.
Braids sniggers. "If she could tell how ample your virtues are, she really must have been staring a hole in your armour" he leers, poking his chest-piece. "You wear thicker stuff than I do, after all."
Mistress shoots Furgus a look, and subtly points to the back of her head. While he whacks Braids in the same blind-spot, Chirpy groans. "Anyway..." Sorry, Chirpy. You might have better luck getting a proper War Table conversation elsewhere, away from these idiots. Orlesia invented The Game, right? Maybe if you go back there, everyone will play strategy with you. "Bann Esmerelle played along with Varel's mistake."
With another sigh, Mistress rolls her shoulders. "Yes. I worried it might have been too obvious a test, but she went for it. If it were merely a power posture, she would have pointedly said Arlessa so everyone could chuckle and hoot at Varel's apparent slip of the tongue. She didn't apologise, sincerely or otherwise, when we talked . She didn't offer a chiding remark about disciplining my people better... not even a veiled complaint about Eddelbrek correcting her." So he did that on purpose... okay, Old Man. I guess I can't bite you for it. Just don't do it again.
"Okay, but what does all that mean?" Garevel asks.
What does that mean?
"She doesn't think I'll be in power long enough to bother placating or toying with" Mistress answers, rubbing her head. "Thus, she's involved. What a shame; I admired Esmerelle, when I was younger – for a moment there, while we were talking, I thought we could have worked together."
A/N:
Blight Truther conspiracy nuts would be the absolute worst, and I imagine there's a lot of them in Thedas. Especially Orlais.
I assume Varel/Esmerelle calling a female Commander 'Arl' is just a bug, but I got some story detail out of it.
As always, thanks to everyone reading, following and reviewing.