Chapter 37: Problems
"There are several matters that require your immediate attention, Your Majesty."
"Uh huh," Alistair said with a nod, he was currently standing by the window of royal study, the massive pane of glass looked down on the city, his city.
The King sighed.
He would never get used to thinking about that…
…Never.
Standing behind him, Wilbur Rich continued to read the latest reports from his agents throughout the kingdom. It was quite impressive that the man had brought so many people together, and Alistair had had ample proof these last few months that the man's information was not only reliable, but necessary…
Still that did not stop him thinking about Bea, and her family even now on their way to the docks to meet with Arland and the girl who was to be his brother's bride.
Alistair frowned.
Funny how easily he could become distracted these days.
"King Bhelen of Orzammar has sent you an invitation to visit his city," Rich continued, 'He offers to hold a grand proving in your honor. You being one of the champions of the Blight and all that…"
"Uh huh," Alistair replied.
"It may seem a bit late," Rich added, "But from what I've heard from my contacts within the dwarven merchant's guild, it has taken Bhelen this long to stabilize his city, and remove the few enemies that remained to his rule."
Rich smiled.
"Shall I write that you shall attend?"
Uh huh," Alistair replied, he held his right hand to his lips, lost in deep thought.
Prepare it had been a mistake stealing that kiss from Bea.
Perhaps he had been too forward.
Rich nodded and signed the letter he would send to Orzammar.
"There have also been problems with the Dalish settlement you established near Ostagar," the Secretary said.
""Uh huh," Alistair nodded.
"So far, only three Dalish clans have accepted your offer. The rest likely don't trust the promise of lands offered up so easily."
"Uh huh," the king said.
Rich pursed his lips.
"There have been some …scuffles between groups of Dalish hunters and salvagers picking through the Blightlands near their territory. We should perhaps since an emissary to the Dalish. Bann Shianni perhaps, and also it might be wise to send a small company of guards to patrol the border, to make sure that our people don't tread so easily into Dalish territory."
"Uh huh," Alistair nodded.
Perhaps I will ask Bea to go riding with me tomorrow, he thought.
It would be nice to have some company along.
"There is one last matter we need to attend to, Your Majesty," Rich said with mild frustration.
"Uh huh," The king said.
"Well, it is like this," the secretary began, "I think I have a dragon trying to crawl out of my left ear. Not the most pleasant sensation I will grant you, but I have grown quite fond of it."
He smirked slightly.
"I think I will name it, Uh huh."
Alistair turned.
"Not a bad name," the king replied, "though you might want to reconsider, the flying dogs of the Anderfels name their first born Uh huh."
The king smiled.
"You would not want to insult them, trust me, they bite."
Rich's eyes widened.
Alistair chuckled.
The secretary bowed his head.
"My apologies, Your Majesty," he said, "I thought you were not listening."
The king shrugged.
"Actually I was only half listening," he admitted, "You said something about the dwarves?"
"Yes, a proving in your honor, if you wished to attend?"
"I shall," he said, "And the Dalish?"
"Border skirmishes mostly, scavengers giving the Dalish hunters a hard time."
The king nodded.
"I will send word to Keeper Lanaya," he said, "Make sure that she understands that any addition troops on their borders are not to cause trouble for the elves."
The secretary smiled.
"A wise decision, Your Majesty," he said, "We must still proceed with caution though, the Dalish have long memories, we would not want another exalted march over some misunderstanding. Bann Shianni might serve as a good messenger; let the Dalish see an elven noble."
Alistair nodded.
Shianni's presence would likely go a long way to smoothing over any problem. He had no desire to see conflict break out between the Dalish clans and the humans working to restore the Hinterlands…
That…would be bad.
He returned his attention to the window. He pursed his lips in thought.
"Will?" he said.
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
"What do you think of Lady Glass?"
The Secretary arched an eyebrow.
"A bright woman, or so I have been told," he said, "She also has some skill in politics, not a bad thing for someone who makes their life here in Denerim."
Alistair nodded.
"How would the court react if she…if we…um…"
The King shook his head.
There was no easy way to frame his question.
It was difficult.
Rich smiled slightly.
"Most already suspect that something is going on between the two of you," he reminded the king.
"Yeah, but that is not the same as me standing up and declaring that we were…were…"
Rich suppressed a smirk.
"Up to…whatever this is," he said.
Alistair shrugged.
That made as much sense as anything he could come up with.
He turned to his secretary.
"Any suggests on how I might make this more…acceptable to the court?"
Rich shrugged.
"Lady Glass has made enemies, you can't change that," he said, "But she has made friends too. They would support her and you by extension."
Alistair nodded.
"What do I do about the others, the ones that won't support her?"
The Secretary gave him a sly look.
"That depends entirely upon them, Your Majesty," he said, "Some might be…convinced to change their way of thinking, but the more diehard opponents of Lady Glass…"
The man's smile turned predatory.
"You…would have to decide how far you were willing to go," he said.
The King considered what the man had said.
A brief shudder ran down his spine.
"Remind me never to get on your bad side, Mister Secretary."
Rich chuckled.
"It is I that needs to be more careful," he said, "I'm well aware that some of the things I tell you might not be in my best interest, but I assure you, everything I say is for the good of the realm."
Rich shrugged.
"My grandfather died in your grandmother's service, did you know that?"
Alistair shook his head, a surprised look on his face.
Rich sighed.
"My father drank himself to death trying to live up to that man's memory. Me, I'm just trying to survive."
He smiled slightly.
"I see my life ending only two ways," he said, "Either a wealthy man in warm bed dying peacefully in his sleep, or in the courtyard of Fort Drakon. Having my head removed for displeasing you in some way."
The king winced.
"Why would I want to have your head removed?"
Rich smiled slightly.
"Let us hope that we never find out."
The King shook his head.
"That is a little dark, isn't Will?"
Again the secretary shrugged.
"I consider it realistic," the man replied, "But going back to your original question. I would suggest that you do not go overboard trying to win support for Lady Glass, she is a wise woman."
Again Rich smiled.
"She has more friends than you realize. They need to see how she handles matters. If she does it well, you will have nothing to worry about."
Alistair nodded.
"And if she doesn't"
The Secretary gave him a sad look.
"Then it won't matter in the end."
IOI
The Glass family emerged from their carriages. Before them, stood the tall ship that had carried Arland to Cumberland, a ship now returned to its home port.
Bea's eyes drifted over the deck, but saw no sign of her brother.
She pursed her lips in slight worry.
They had received no word that anything was amiss, but still….still…
Worry could not be helped.
Her father stood next to Arl Wulfe. The ruler of the Arling of West Hill was a hard man, with stern bearing and cold piercing eyes. He also walked as if a great weight rested on his shoulders, perhaps it did.
Bea frowned.
West Hill had suffered greatly during the Blight. The darkspawn had swept over it like a flood, so many dead or missing. Many of the ghouls that the Archdemon had thrown against Denerim had once upon a time been citizens of West Hill.
The thought made Bea shiver.
The Arl's sons had perished during the Blight, dying not in battle but from the plagues the darkspawn had unleashed. Now the man had no choice but to seek outside aid for his family.
Bea suspected that her father had offered the Arl her aid in exchange for this marriage contract. Such a deal was unnecessary of course; she would have done anything to help for free, but understood why Father had made such a…arrangement.
The Scholar pursed her lips.
She glanced over at Quentin. Her brother looked fidgety, fidgety and tired. In the short time that he had been here, Quentin had come to love the night life of the capital. The taverns and betting parlors called to him. It was safe to say that it was only a matter of time until his work with the scholars suffered.
Papa no doubt hoped that getting Quentin married would be an excellent way to settle her wild brother down, that starting a family of his own give him something more to focus on than the pleasures of the capital.
Her father glanced at Quentin; a frown came briefly to his face.
"Stop fidgeting," Nathaniel Glass said.
Quentin stood up a little straighter; he looked more like a man on his way to the hangman than a man about to meet his future wife.
Behind Bea and Margaret, Lis Cousland stood at parade rest, once again armed and armored.
The warrior woman drew more than a few stares around the docks, but for the most part people gave her a wide birth.
It was a wise move, considering how ferocious the woman could be.
Finally Bea caught sight of Arland; her brother was dressed in a fine red coat with black breeches. The military style cut of the garments left little doubt that the young man was a warrior. All you had to do was look into Arland's remaining eye to know that was the truth.
He moved to the gangplank of the ship, Bea waved up to him, happy to see him home and safe.
Arland nodded slightly to her, his expression was…not quite right.
It looked…pained, sad somehow.
He held out his hand to someone standing behind him, no doubt looking to guide this person down to the gangplank. A tall icy looking blonde woman stood for them all to see.
It was then that the Glass family got their first real look at the Lady Jayne Wulfe…
Quentin's breath caught in his throat.
Bea suppressed a smile.
To be perfectly frank, she could not blame him.
The Lady Jayne was a very beautiful young woman.
Even with Arland's aid she moved with the pride of a noble lioness. Her skin was pale and without blemish. Her figure was slender yet attractive in all the right places, full breasts, and gentle swaying hips.
The only thing that linked her to Arl Wulfe was her eyes; they had the same stern bearing. Her gray eyes seemed to pierce all that looked upon them.
She allowed Arland to lead her onto the docks.
She turned to Arl Wulfe first. Bea watched curiously. According to Lis, the Lady Jayne had not seen anyone from her family in almost ten years.
She was curious how the woman might react, would she embrace her uncle would she cry?
The two held each other with their cold intimidating eyes.
Finally, the Lady curtseyed.
"Uncle," she purred.
"My dear," Arl Wulfe said with a slight nod.
He turned to Arl Nathaniel and Quentin.
"My lords," he said, "May I present my niece, the Lady Jayne."
Arl Nathaniel stepped forward.
"Welcome my dear," he purred, "Both to Denerim, and our family."
"Your Grace," she said with a slight curtsey.
She pinned Quentin with those cold eyes of hers.
"Husband," she cooed.
Quentin Glass swallowed hard; he wiped his hands idly on the front of his coat.
Bea almost smiled.
It was rare to see her brother left speechless.
"Wife," he said with a slight bow.
Arl Nathaniel smiled.
"Come everyone," he said smiling broadly, "Let us leave this harsh environment for my estate."
He offered a hand to the Lady Jayne.
"You must be tired after your long journey.
"Your Grace," she said accepting his hand, letting the Arl of Denerim lead her back to his carriage.
Bea glanced back, looking for Arland.
She frowned.
Her brother was gone.
Vanished.
She pursed her lips.
Such behavior was not like Arland.
It was not like him at all.
Jayne Wulfe turned from the carriage. Bea caught her scanning the crowd, perhaps looking for Arland as well…
When she did not see him, she leaned back in her seat, waiting for the carriage to carry them away.
Bea's frown deepened.
It was unlike Arland to simply vanish without even saying hello.
She shook her head.
What had happened to her brother during his journey?
Why would he leave so suddenly?
Bea felt her hands curl into determined fists.
She did not know what had happened, but as Andraste was her witness…
She intended to find out.