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War of the Laurels

By Spectre4hire

25: Howe

You were supposed to protect me!

He opened his eyes. The haunting image of his son remained with him. Dressed in his battle armor, stained with blood and mud, Thomas Howe held his head in his hands. His face ghostly pale while his eyes were as dark as the void.

The shade of his son has haunted Howe since the fateful day Thomas was killed. Appearing in his dreams and lingering long after he woke up. It was enough to churn his stomach. He lost his son, his heir.

It was a pain that would not leave him.

He dressed in silence. He could hear the servants bustling around the room. Some were lighting the candles and opening the curtains to allow the early sunlight to shine in. They brought out a bottle of wine and a single glass leaving it on his desk. He moved over towards his desk without a look or word of acknowledgment to the servants that were working around him. He poured himself a generous serving of the wine. He drank deep from his glass having grown use to the bittersweet taste of this particular vintage.

Howe sighed. Putting down the glass, relieved of the soothing effect the wine was having. It helped to numb the anguish that had burrowed itself deep in his gut the day he lost Thomas.

He would've been a great king.

He stared morosely into his half-empty glass. He raised it slightly in a silent toast to his fallen son, who would've been the future king of Ferelden. He then took another long sip empting the glass before putting it back down on his desk.

Thomas had been taken from this world too early. There was greatness in him.

Howe poured himself another glass. This was his morning routine now. He used the wine to chase away the dreams that haunted his sleep and the anguish that filled his heart. He would bury the pain and numb the ache alone in his chambers every morning. That was when it was at its strongest. After a few glasses of wine in solitude, he'd continue his routine and carry out his duties as the Teyrn of Highever and Arl of Denerim and Amaranthine.

"Your Lordship?"

Howe looked up to see Captain Chase standing in the doorway. He greeted the Captain with a curt nod before gesturing him to enter the room.

Captain Chase obliged. He bowed when he reached Howe's desk and remained standing despite the empty chair beside him.

"Are the rumors true?" He didn't want to waste time.

"They are," Chase confirmed. "The Dark Wolf exits, your lordship and I know she is responsible for these acts against the nobility."

The Dark Wolf, Howe remembered the first time hearing the name come up in one of his guardsmen's reports. The crimes had been petty, pick pocketing but the targets had all been nobles and wealthy merchants. The legend of the Dark Wolf only grew from there.

Howe had considered this Dark Wolf as more of a pest then problem. He believed his city guardsmen should be capable enough to find and stop this threat. That all changed when the Dark Wolf broke into Howe's warehouse, killed his guards, and stole all of Howe's silver bars. He had been furious. It was then that he appointed, Captain Chase as his lead investigator and tasked him with finding out everything he could about this Dark Wolf.

"She?" Howe picked up on Chase's choice of word. "The Dark Wolf is a woman?"

"I believe she is," Chase answered, "Ser Nancine remembers talking to a woman at the Wonders of Thedas shop and Darby's silversmith guards remember spotting an elven woman passing them in the alley shortly before the key was taken."

"An elven woman?" Howe couldn't believe this. "An elf is responsible for stealing from us?" This could not be tolerated.

"Yes, and I believe I have a suspect."

"Who?" They needed to put a stop to this at once. This Dark Wolf needed to be put down.

"I don't have a name," Chase replied hesitantly. "However, I have evidence to suggest that she was one of the elves abducted by the previous Arl of Denerim, a few months back."

That really didn't shorten their list. Over the years, it seemed Vaughn Kendalls had abducted a number of elven women to use for his own perverted purposes. He didn't ask how Chase got his evidence. He trusted the Captain, who had yet to fail him.

"Very well," Howe withdrew a piece of vellum. "I want you to assemble a unit of city guards and visit the Alienage. I'm sure a few silvers will direct us to where we can find the lair of the Wolf." He had no doubt that the elves within the Alienage would turn on this Dark Wolf at the chance of getting a few silvers richer. He finished writing up the official order as Arl of Denerim.

"I won't fail you, your Lordship."

"See to it that you don't," Howe handed him the order.

His son's death hung over him like a looming dark cloud. Making sure he never forgot. To never allow him to escape in reprieve or for him to foolish think his precious Thomas was still with him. The reminder stuck to him like a shadow. He could not shake it. It haunted him with every step.

You were supposed to protect me!

The words followed him, besieging him constantly.

Failure that was something that never sat well with Rendon Howe. All his life Howe strived to succeed. When he could not achieve it, he waited for the next opportunity to come and seized it. Failure was a bitter taste that Howe refused to swallow.

When it came to his son's death, Howe knew who it was to blame. It was him. He was unable to shield his son from his one mistake since claiming Highever. That mistake was the survival of Edmund Cousland when Castle Cousland was sacked. Howe had created a vengeful enemy the night he put the Castle to torch and the Cousland family to the sword. In order to rule the Teyrnir of Highever effectively, he needed to start off on a clean slate.

That didn't happen. As long as there were Couslands, the people would rally behind them. They were stupid like that. They were afraid of change and wanted to stay with what was familiar. Edmund Cousland had manipulated this mindset to form his little rebellion in his nephew's name.

Now, Edmund was fueled by vengeance and seeking retribution. He would not stop until he destroyed Howe or was destroyed. Howe understood this and now knew what he needed to do to ensure a smooth transition with the Teyrnir of Highever. He would not allow this Cousland brat to jeopardize everything Howe has accomplished.

"Your lordship?"

He looked up to see Captain Kuril, the captain of the castle guards standing in the doorway. "Yes?"

"The Lord Protector is on his way."

"Very well," Howe had been waiting for the Teyrn to arrive. They had business to attend to. He had something that needed the Teyrn's permission. "Escort the Teyrn to my office when he arrives. And send word to the kitchen to have a servant come here with fresh wine."

Captain Kuril crossed his arms over his chest and bowed before departing.

Howe looked down at the vellum on his desk. It was a contract. It was a very important contract that could bring much needed gold into their vaults. They needed all the funds they could secure. The civil war with the rebels was draining their revenue.

The source of the gold wasn't ideal. It was from newly arrived Tevinter slavers. Howe's associates, the Blood Mages had made the arrangements between him and this Caladrius. The slavers were promising too much gold for Howe to ignore. They needed this.

Morals were nice in times of peace. In war they were a luxury. It was foolish to stick with them. In war your objective was to win. It didn't matter how you accomplished it as long as you did. Victory was the only thing that mattered. In acquiring this gold and coming to an agreement with these slavers they were bettering their chances at winning this civil war.

Teyrn Loghain walked into the room without introduction. The Lord Protector of Ferelden looked annoyed at the retinue of guards that had escorted him to Howe's office.

Howe immediately stood from his seat. "Your Lordship." He bowed low. "I was honored at your notice of visiting my meager estate."

Loghain held up his hand. "Enough pleasantries," He took his seat. "They are unnecessary."

"Of course, your Lordship," Howe recovered, sitting back down. He was pleased at the timing of the servant, who poured them their glasses of wine quickly and quietly before leaving the two Teyrns to discuss their important business.

"I have the papers," he picked up the contract and handed it to Loghain who took them with a grunt and began reading it. His lips moving as he read.

"I don't like this." Loghain announced, looking at the papers with distaste. He put the contract back on Howe's desk.

He was expecting the Teyrn's resistance. He knew he needed him to look at the bigger picture and not transfix on the small issue. What they were doing wasn't evil. It was simply pragmatic.

"It must be done."

Loghain's blue eyes looked distant, his face impassive. "There must be another way."

"No other way will match these revenues," Howe pointed out. It wasn't a completely true statement, but he didn't need it to be.

"Are the times truly this desperate?" Loghain sighed.

"They are," Howe confirmed. "War is expensive, but this will refill our vaults faster than any other option we have."

"I served with many," Loghain said softly. "They were loyal and fierce. I've never fought with better men and women then the Night Elves."

"I remember," Howe needed Loghain to ignore his emotions to make the right choice. It needed to be done. In order to ensure they could continue their fight against the rebels they needed more gold.

"If you do not act now then all of Ferelden could be torn apart."

That got a reaction out of the stoic Teyrn. "Sacrifice a few to save the many." He picked up the contract. "It isn't for naught."

That's it, Howe thought, sensing he had finally swayed him.

"This is the only way," The Lord Protector of Ferelden signed his name. "Ferelden must endure."

"By signing this, you have made sure it has," Howe took the contract from the table. Rolling it up, he would deliver it personally to his contact. It was then he would also expect his first payment for allowing the slavers to slip into the city and take with them their first of many shipments.

"This doesn't solve our immediate problems," Loghain observed. "Eastern Crossing was a revelation."

It wasn't a revelation. It was a tragedy.

You were supposed to protect me! His son's cold accusation cut him deeply. Howe moved to pour himself more wine.

"We underestimated him," Loghain continued, oblivious to Howe's discomfort. "He may possess a certain skill of tactics that we didn't believe he had."

"One battle doesn't make him a tactician," Howe sipped his wine. Thankful, for the immediate reprieve it had on the pain. It numbed the ache. He wasn't about to anoint Edmund Cousland the next Calenhad because the brat got lucky in a battle. "One victory doesn't make him a conqueror."

"No, it doesn't," Loghain agreed.

"We have endured the hardships of war, Your Lordship," Howe pointed out. "We understand the measures that need to be taken to secure victory." He was pleased that he got a nod from Loghain.

"The rebels have the darkspawn to contend with." Howe knew the darkspawn would be marching right into the rebels' forces. The rebels would feel the brunt of the horde while their forces were safely tucked away in Denerim and the Coastlands.

"Cailan made the mistake of trusting the Grey Wardens," Loghain said softly. "He thought legends and stories would save Ferelden." A pensive look flickered over his face. "He didn't understand the true cost of war until it was too late." He clasped his hands under his chin.

"If I would have committed my forces at Ostagar, I would have doomed Ferelden." He sighed. "I sacrificed the lives of many brave Fereldans including our king so that Ferelden would not fall. We lost a battle to the darkspawn, but we will not lose this war. I will not lose Ferelden."

"We won't," Howe agreed. "We will let the rebels fight the darkspawn that will lessen the numbers of both forces. Our armies will then move in and crush both factions delivering an end to this conflict. We will bring stability and peace back to Ferelden."

"If we stay the course we will break this rebellion."

"Very well," Loghain stood up. "I will speak with Anora and inform her of our strategy."

"Excellent, Your Lordship," Howe stood as well. "We are doing what is best for Ferelden."

Loghain replied with a nod before departing.

Howe sat back down. Pleased at how well the meeting had gone.

Not only had he gotten the Teyrn's signature on the contract, but Loghain had agreed to his strategy. All the while, Howe would be waiting for the right opportunity to pounce and crush the rebels' forces and their will to fight.

Thomas would get his justice.

I wasn't able to protect you, but I will avenge you.

Ferelden was going through changes.

The evidence of this change could be found throughout the country. The Coastlands were unified under one banner, Howe's. After this rebellion was crushed, he would be given a new prestigious title to convey the power and influence he now wielded. He would remain in Denerim as both the Arl and Advisor to the Crown.

"Your Lordship?" Captain Lowan crossed his arms and bowed before entering the room. "You sent for me?"

"I did," Howe confirmed. "As Captain of my scouts I was wondering if we've received any news on the rebels' position."

"No yet, your Lordship," Lowan replied quickly. "But I'm still waiting for one of my scouts to report in."

"You will inform me of this scout's report the second it is received."

"Of course, your Lordship."

Howe nodded, pleased at the understanding between him and Lowan. He could still recall the letter that Lowan had sent him before Howe had sacked Cousland Castle. Lowan had warned Howe that not all of Howe's men were pleased with his bold, but needed plan of removing the Couslands. Howe had then given Lowan permission to detain these troublemakers to make sure they didn't ruin his plans.

In the end, they didn't. Captain Lowan had not failed Howe. The Couslands had thankfully been oblivious when the time had come to put Howe's plan in motion. Lowan had earned himself a promotion for following through on Howe's instructions.

He knew that Lowan had been hesitant at first in Howe's decision to strike the Couslands. Many of Howe's trusted men had been. They were under this illusion that the Howes and Couslands were allies. However, allies stood on equal footing, and there had been nothing equal about Rendon Howe's position and power and that of Bryce Cousland.

There had been times when the two families weren't even allies, but enemies. Parts of Ferelden history that were forgotten by the people and often not taught by the tutors, but Howe remembered…

"Did you know the Howes and Couslands have fought before, Captain Lowan?"

"Your Lordship?" The Captain appeared disarmed by the sudden question.

"When Sarim Cousland seized the outpost of Highever he had the insolence to declare his independence from Amaranthine, my ancestors." Howe remembered the story well. "He was a mere captain of the guard, and he had the audacity to rebel against his betters!"

"His sedition launched a war that lasted thirty years!" Howe growled. "When the war ended Highever had seized more than half the land that once made up southwestern Amaranthine."

Howe leaned back in his seat. He studied Captain Lowan, who looked uncomfortable. He didn't seem certain how to respond to the little history lesson Howe had just given him. History was important. It tells us where we come from. It shouldn't be forgotten or ignored. Howe remembered the countless lessons his old tutor use to give him when he was a boy.

When the tutor would tell the story of the Coastlands Civil War, he would always get upset. He hadn't thought it was fair that the Couslands stole Highever and rebelled against his family. He never thought it was right that the Couslands were raised to Teyrns and that Amaranthine had to swear fealty to Highever. The Howe family has an old and proud history that stretches back farther than either the Couslands or the Theirins. Yet, they're forced to bend the knee to younger, lesser families.

"Tell me Captain Lowan are you aware how the Couslands got the laurels as their sigil?"

"No, your Lordship," He replied honestly. "I never really thought about it."

That didn't surprise Howe. Lowan was a commoner. He didn't wear a sigil that represented his family and his ancestors that came before him. He didn't understand the burden and responsibility that came with it. One poor decision could completely snuff out your family, making them extinct and your sigil outlawed.

The Howe name and legacy had been put in jeopardy during the Rebellion against Orlais. Howe could still remember the day he and the rebels hung his grandfather for his support of Orlais. Howe had never liked the man. Killing him had been pragmatic and political. It allowed Howe to eventually inherit the Arling when his father, Byron died during the Rebellion.

"The Cousland family ensured their survival through victory over my family," Howe told him. "Sarim Cousland's rebellion against my ancestors had been successful. So he chose the laurels to symbolize his victory so that everyone would remember the Cousland origins."

"Forged in victory," Howe said bitterly, "That was the old Cousland saying."

He hated to admit it, but there was a time when he envied them. He could still remember during the Rebellion how the soldiers responded to Bryce Cousland, how the nobles treated him. The Cousland legacy brought with it respect and admiration from commoners and nobles alike. The Cousland name had carried so much weight that when Maric disappeared there had been many who had wanted Bryce, not Cailan to become the next King of Ferelden.

Soon the Cousland name will be a memory. The Cousland name will serve as a reminder that no single family is greater than Ferelden. To serve as a lesson to every noble family that none of them are beyond reproach.

"Your Lordship?" Captain Lowan spoke tentatively.

Howe had been so deep in his musings; he hadn't noticed the arrival of the servant who had brought a message to Captain Lowan.

"What did it say?" Howe recovered from his slip. He wasn't going to acknowledge it. It was better to just move forward.

Lowan came to a similar conclusion. "It's from the scout." He looked down at the message in his hands as if he couldn't quite believe it. "The rebels have split."

"What?" Howe straightened up in his seat.

"There was a falling out," Lowan opened up the message to make sure he reported it correctly. "Edmund Cousland, his Uncle Leonas Bryland and the southern nobles and freeholders that made up the army have gone south. They aim to fight the darkspawn."

"Truly?" Howe couldn't believe it. He couldn't be this fortunate.

"Aye, your Lordship," Lowan confirmed, "The northern nobles remain. Apparently they were unwilling to march south."

This was the opportunity he had been waiting for. With the northern nobles disorganized this was the time to strike. His army could deliver a crippling blow to this rebellion by destroying the northern host. It could very well break the rebels' will. Let Edmund and his forces march south into the waiting arms of the darkspawn. They went to certain doom and death.

"Send a messenger to my army," Howe informed Lowan. "I want them ready to march upon my arrival."

"Yes, your Lordship," Lowan crossed his arms and bowed. "Where is the army headed?"

"To Lord Loren's estate," Howe revealed. That was where the northern nobles would be. He knew it.

It was time to end this.

A/N:

I wanted to write Howe a bit differently in this chapter. To try to highlight some traits and emotions we don't normally see him express. I want to bring some realism and depth to his character.Hopefully, I have, if not my apologies. I also liked the idea of him being forced to know the history between their families and being bitter about how the Couslands overshadowed his own family.

The Howe history has some inconsistencies so not everything properly lines up or makes sense. So in this story, I tweaked a few things. I made Tarleton Howe, Rendon's grandfather not father, since he was around 90 during the events of the Rebellion. And made Byron Howe, Rendon's Father not Uncle. And Padric Howe is now Rendon's Great Uncle, not Grandfather. I hope that all makes sense.

The war between Sarim Cousland and Amaranthine did happen. However, there isn't lot of information to go with so I took some liberties including how the Couslands got the Laurels for their sigil. I hope no one minds.

So let me know what you think.

Until next time,

-Spectre4hire