Exams are over, now I have a little more time to write :) "Things to do, places to be" here in Denerim, so we will leave the city next chapter. For now, please enjoy...
Chapter 14: Playing the Game
Daylen, giving me the silent treatment after our talk, agreed to bring me up to speed. Apparently they've been trying to find the Dalish, without luck so far, obviously. The supplies were running low and they had to break off their search. Leliana just didn't catch enough game to feed all five of them, among them two with the (in-)famous Grey Warden appetite.
Lothering had already fallen victim to the Darkspawn horde, which meant that the West Road was blocked by the horde, leaving Redcliffe cut off, too. The visit at the Circle was something Daylen wanted to delay as long as possible.
Which meant that Denerim, the lion's den, was the only place to go, unless they wanted to starve.
They weren't long in the capital when Alistair found the pamphlet, and the rest, as they say, is history…
Considering they hadn't yet enforced even a single treaty, it didn't take awfully long to go through all of that. Varric maybe would've embellished the tale a little bit more, but that would've dragged it out more than necessary, which of course wasn't in Daylen's interest. Besides, after our meeting, Daylen left me to my own devices with the advice to turn in early as they want to leave Denerim the next day.
But who am I to heed someone's advice?
Unbeknownst to my fellow Wardens, I slip out of the Gnawed Noble as soon as the sun goes down, a cloak over my leathers and armed only with a sword. Before we leave Denerim again, I want to have another word with Loghain, if possible.
The way to the palace is quite a bit harder to find in the dark, as I find out en route. I think I'm still near the marketplace, but these stupid alleys all look the same to me. Yay me for avoiding the main streets. Wonderful plan.
My thoughts are rudely interrupted when I hear armor clanking nearby, but before whoever this is comes into my view, I press myself flush against the wall, into the shadows, hand already on the hilt of my sword. When they finally come around the corner, I can barely hold in a relieved sigh that threatens to leave my lips. They bear the royal crest with the two mabaris on their shields. I thank my luck that I stumbled upon a royal patrol of all things.
Letting them pass, I stick to the shadows as much as I can and follow them. True enough, after a while they pass Fort Drakon and the royal palace, where I leave them. I sneak to a side entrance with a peep hole. After giving two curbed raps, the little wood behind the peep hole is pushed aside.
"Whaddaya want?" a grumpy voice demands to know.
" 'The wyvern spreads its wings over the mabari.' "
After a few seconds, probably spent on thinking about the stupid code phrase, the grumpy voice is not so grumpy anymore. "A'right. Step back, lad."
Said and done, the door swings open a little bit, just enough for me to squeeze myself in between the door post and the beefy guard, whose breath provides me with a curious insight into what he's eaten this evening. And tells me that he likes ale. A lot. Not the best first impression for a royal guard, even if it's night time. Maybe he's like Oghren and only functions when drunk?
The door clunks shut. "Teyrn's been waitin' for ya," the man says and waves for me to follow him. I've barely made out what he tells me with his strong accent. It's almost as if he has a cigar stub hanging in a corner of his mouth.
After numerous turns and long walks through dark hallways, he leads me to a familiar door and opens it. It's the dining room turned map room again.
"Teyrn Loghain, the Grey Warden has arrived." Gone the terrible accent. Guess the Hero of River Dane still instills some resemblance of discipline in his soldiers.
This time, he's sitting at the head of the table, a map of Ferelden spread out in front of him. With the eerie lighting from the candles, the stern look he gives me does make me want to visit the privies, to be honest. Nonetheless, I swallow my insecurity, but before I can open my mouth, he beats me to it.
"I expected you sooner," he lets me know with a raised eyebrow. Geez, what a warm greeting.
"Yeah, well, it's not like mentioning my visit to you did anything to crush any residual trust they may have had in me." After seeing his slightly curious gaze, one I really cannot understand (I mean, come on, he's a general, and a father. He can't be that blind, can he?), I explain further. "After all, in their eyes, you're mainly the guy who abandoned a father figure and numerous brothers in arms on the battlefield, not to mention one of their more vehement supporters who happens… happened… to be King of Ferelden. You do know that Duncan, for all the faults he had, was more of a father to Alistair than Arl Eamon, or King Maric, for that matter? Surely you'll understand they were more than a little distressed at the thought of me, or us, working with you?"
He has at least the dignity to look away, kind of abashed even. Although it only lasts a moment, then he straightens up again. "I wish no harm to any of you. But war claims numerous victims each time it strikes. The battle of Ostagar was doomed from the start. I…"
Growing more confident as I see that I actually came through to him for a moment makes me raise my hands to cut him off, which he surprisingly abides by, most probably out of indignation that someone dares to do that in his company than actually consciously abiding by my wish. "Spare your breath. I know full well about the tactical situation at Ostagar," a statement that is followed by another raised eyebrow, "and it's not me you should apologize to. You probably never apologize and see it as a sign of weakness, too, but given that your best friend's son at least partially rightfully thinks you are responsible for the death of his father figure, I'd think it's warranted, just this once."
He stands up and rounds the table until he's standing directly in front of me, where I realize that he's just tall enough for me to have to raise my head to look into his eyes.
Loghain's withering glare makes me gulp just a little bit. "There aren't many people who ever dared to speak to me like this." No kidding. "And I believed him dead, until a few days ago, a brash young man tells me that he's still alive." Now I gulp a little bit more.
When he continues, his voice has taken a calm and soft tone that almost makes me shit myself. "I have and will put up with many things from you, considering that you actually gave me hope that Maric's alive, and maybe there's even a grain of truth in the words you just spoke. But know this, should you conduct yourself in such a disrespectful manner again, I will kill you. Should your information about Maric turn out to be wrong, I will find you, and I will kill you. Slowly. If we are to work together to end this blight, you will mind your manners, understood?"
I can only nod with a slack jaw. Well, I suppose I should be a little more cautious in the future with my tongue then.
He walks back and sits down again. "Now that that's out of the way, why don't we work on what you've actually come here to do?" he asks, in a surprisingly chipper tone.
I shake myself out of the stupor I'm in and finally come over to the map.
"Right, of course. We have three treaties, obligating the dwarves of Orzammar, the Circle of Magi and the dalish elves to help fight the blight. The elves, while closest to Denerim, are the hardest to find, we only know they are in the Brecilian Forest. If they don't want to be found by shemlen, they won't be found. Stumbling upon them would be sheer luck. The others have tried, but didn't find them. We want to go to Redcliffe first, and possibly save Eamon. From what my sources say, they are in trouble."
Loghain leans back in his chair. "And by sources, you mean yourself?"
"It's our only source. Unless you count the elf you probably have stationed there."
Watching his face intently, I get the desired effect when he flinches just enough for me to notice. He puts on a blank face again immediately, but I've seen enough. Thank you, Paul Ekman. Being able to read microexpressions has proven to be useful yet again. I'm certain it won't be the last time.
"It was Howe who sent a spy, not me."
I close my eyes and shake my head. It's not even surprising really. That bastard just won't stop, will he?
"Howe?"
My eyes snap open. "What do you mean?"
The older man quirks an eyebrow. "You just muttered, 'that bastard just won't stop, will he?'. I want to know what you mean by that."
Oh.
Oh.
"Did I really just say that out loud?" When Loghain confirms my fear with an amused smile (although I'm not really sure 'amused' is really what it means - reading facial expressions? A few days to learn, a lifetime to perfect), I bury my head in my hands for a moment.
"Well… there is much to him, but that snake will cost you dearly in the end. His political prowess won't counter-balance that. With him claiming Highever, being Arl of Amaranthine and possibly Denerim, he will control the complete northern coast of Ferelden, making him the most powerful man after the crown. Even if you don't believe the rest, this is definitely not something you want. He's greedy for power. He won't stop there. From this position of power, it's only a matter of time until he tries to usurp the throne. And knowing him as the sleazy bastard he is, it will probably involve something like forcing Anora to marry him to make the coup legal."
My face scrunches up at the thought. I'm not Anora's biggest fan, but that's a fate I don't wish on anyone. And I may be quite young and don't have daughters on my own, but I think I have a pretty good idea of what's going on in Loghain's head right now.
"You're right. I wouldn't want this." Gotcha. "But what proof do you have, other than your own 'vision'?" Damn it, that would've been too easy, wouldn't it?
"Right now? None," I tell him bluntly. "But actions speak louder than words. Why, do you think, did he not wait to present the Couslands' case to the Landsmeet, as is customary? Why did he slaughter everyone there?"
Loghain frowns at that. "He did so because we couldn't be sure if he was the only conspirator in the nobility. It was hard to overlook that the royal couple had yet to produce an heir, and there were and are many noble traditionalists who would rather see Ferelden handed over to Orlais than a childless royal marriage. Besides, he didn't slaughter everyone like you said. He has everyone from Highever Castle except for the late Teyrn and Teyrna Cousland at Vigil's Keep, in the dungeons."
I cross my arms at him. Could he really be so blind? "Let me guess: all the intelligence came from Howe himself, he discredited Arl Eamon on the way, and he delays your visit to Vigil's keep with flimsy excuses. He wants to deal with the 'conspirators' himself, because you have Darkspawn on your hands?"
Loghain looks like he wants to protest, but he closes his open mouth again. Surprise changes to realization and ends in fury. The clouds constantly veiling his face have taken a darker shade that promises a thunderstorm at hand.
"Howe plays a different game than you," I push further. "If he didn't tell even you what he was really up to, what does that say about his loyalty? You're just another stepping stone on his way to even more power."
The teyrn starts shaking with anger. Good.
"This son of a tied down… he will pay for betraying my trust," Loghain growls and punches the table.
I hold my hands up. "Don't rush anything. Right now, you have only my word. You'll need something more substantial to bring him down like he deserves. He's a slithering snake and will wind his way out of anything you accuse him of. For now. Wait until the next Landsmeet. Or perhaps when we meet next, I will already have evidence, and you can call for an emergency Landsmeet 'because a blight is coming' to speed it up, which you probably have to do anyway. Until then, you will have to maintain the illusion of working against us. 'Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer', right? Howe might not be Orlesian, but he plays their game well for a Fereldan. Seek him out for advice. Make him the interim Arl of Denerim until the next Landsmeet. Let him handle us. He won't suspect a thing; he thinks you're politically incompetent. And to be honest, you are way too straightforward to be a politician," I add with a smirk.
Loghain ignores the little dig I probably should have kept to myself and eyes me warily. "You said yourself, he's a snake. How do you think you will survive his intrigues?"
That's… actually a good question. But luckily one I have an answer for.
"Alone, I won't. Together with our little war party, I will. Probably. We have an Antivan Crow and a former Bard trained in Orlais in our little group; we should be able to handle anything he throws at us. Not to mention a powerful Circle mage, Flemeth's daughter, Maric's son and a Sten of the Qunari people. Oh, and a full-grown mabari who survived Ostagar, too. We're ready for anything."
… I've just jinxed myself, didn't I?
That, my friend, only the future will show :)
On a sidenote, this story has now reached over 5,000 views :) I'm starting to think this could become bigger than expected. Over 30,000 words and to think I planned for this to span both games (I'm still hold back with saying Inquisition will be featured, too, my high hopes are just asking to get crushed - first game in years that I have preordered and I'm nervous like a little school girl)... I'm curious whether I finish my degree first or this story xD