Salem
I strode into the main hall of Vigil's Keep, attempting to keep my posture straight despite the pain shooting through my leg. Anders and Oghren were in conference between two support pillars. I ignored them. They were not the cause of the shouting.
Varel and an older woman faced off next to the fire pit in the main hall. Varel stood, hands behind his back, chest puffed out. The woman stood eye-to-eye with him, back tense, shoulders taut, hands on her hips in a clear display of disapproval.
The young soldier I had spoken to earlier and his fellows stood aside, eyes flicking from the seneschal to the woman, clearly confused.
"I do not know what manner of foolhardiness is taking place here," the woman spoke, and her accent was from no land I had visited. "But I think perhaps you are overstepping your boundaries, seneschal. No warriors are to be let go, not in this critical time."
I chafed at her words, taking them as a direct affront to my authority.
My authority? I questioned myself. When did I begin thinking in these terms? I have never been given to delegation. Always I…I managed things in my own way. I have never been comfortable with pulling rank, and I never wished to begin, but whoever this woman may be, she has no right to interfere.
"Varel," I brought attention to my voice, and all eyes in the room turned to me. "What is going on?"
"Really?" the woman turned to Varel, clear disgust stamped on her features. "You let your subordinates run about like ruffians, reeking of sweat and soot and dressed in blood-stained rags? Not only that, but you let them call you by name?"
I stopped before the two of them, stunned. Unable to control my reaction, I threw my head back and laughed. The woman's weathered cheeks flushed a furious shade of red and she flung an imperious finger in Varel's face, mouth open to begin another harangue.
"Enough, both of you." I took her wrist and gently set her hand aside. "Might I have the honor of your name, ma'am?"
She said nothing, simply glared at Varel, clearly expecting him to make introductions as averse to addressing his "subordinate" directly.
Varel turned stiffly before me, his blue eyes shining with a smile. He performed a small bow from the waist and gestured to the stranger, "Arlessa, this is Mistress Woolsey. Mistress Woolsey hails from Weisshaupt, and has been sent here by the First Warden to oversee the economical state of Amaranthine. Mistress Woolsey," he turned his eyes to her, "it is my pleasure to present to you Arlessa Salem Cousland, Warden Commander of Ferelden."
Varel joined in my rather inappropriate merriment as the woman cast her keen blue eyes from me to the seneschal. "You are…" she stuttered, as though unable to comprehend it. "You are the Warden Commander?"
"Appointed by Ferelden's own king." Varel answered, a rich note of pride in his voice. "It was on her orders that I was to send these guards home."
"Was that the source of the disagreement then?" I asked, watching both of them nod. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. "I see. And what are your reasons for disagreeing with my direct orders, Mistress Woolsey?"
Her sharp eyes turned to glare into mine and she flinched as she saw the scars there. She covered her initial reaction quickly, drawing up her shoulders and breathing deeply, preparing for a lengthy explanation. "You'll forgive me the error of my first impression, Warden Commander."
I lifted my hand to stall her words. "Salem." I instructed her. "You will learn quickly I possess no love of and have little use for titles."
Her lips pursed into a thin line and I could tell that my informality displeased her. I could not bring myself to care. I had fought alongside many of these men yesterday. Most of them owed their lives to me. I refused to be the liege lord that would hold that over them and demand their entire loyalty.
I will never see anyone's freedoms restricted so that I can lay claim to glory.
"May I speak freely, Salem?" her tone indicated severe displeasure.
"I would have it no other way." I shifted my weight to one leg and crossed my arms, waiting.
"You are young and foolish and will go to an early grave if you do not listen to wisdom." she claimed, gesturing in the direction of the young soldiers. "I arrived here early this morning and have spent the better part of it scouring the accounts. Amaranthine is a wretched financial mess, and things are going to worsen before there can be any chance of improvement. These men here are under contracts of indentured servitude. They have debts to alleviate and you need to conserve funds. You simply cannot afford to let them go, no matter what claims they have made, what pity they have begged for, those contracts are valid."
Anger burned within me as I gazed from Mistress Woolsey's uncompromising countenance to the frightened faces of the young men and women assembled in the hall. Varel shook his head, acknowledging the cruel truth of Woolsey's logic.
She is right, I molded and twisted my anger into a cold, controlled fury. Amaranthine is devastated. Howe drained the treasury and the darkspawn have cut my fighting force in half. But I need soldiers, not servants, and certainly not children whose hearts are full of fear.
"I am not immune to wisdom, and you have spoken truly." I forced a smile, watching the faces of the young soldiers fall. "Regardless, I am doomed to an early grave. Those contracts are null and void, as of now. Rendon Howe bankrupted Amaranthine, and I will not rebuild the arling on the backs of those who did nothing wrong." I looked to the soldiers. "You are free to return to your homes and families. However, if any of you wish to stay in service, you may," I glared at Woolsey as she opened her mouth, "as paid soldiers of the militia."
"You haven't the funds to pay the militia." Mistress Woolsey hissed.
"We will resolve such trivialities later." I growled, wishing again that I looked more presentable, more deserving of the command I wielded and the titles I wore.
"Warden Commander, I must protest." Woolsey spoke again, loud enough for all to hear, loud enough to make the young ones flinch and question my statements. "There are larger things at stake here than the contentment of a handful of men and women. We are talking about the state of Amaranthine as a whole."
"You are out of line, Mistress Woolsey." Varel countered, quick to step to my defense.
The woman bristled and glared at my seneschal. "I was sent here by the First Warden to oversee the state of the arling, and I will not be dissuaded by an archaic seneschal and an altruistic child!"
"That child is your Warden Commander!" Varel raised his voice. "You are obligated to…"
"Obligated?!" Woolsey gasped. "Obligated, seneschal? I am no petty politician to be dictated to. I operate independently, and answer directly to the First Warden and him only. In matters of fiscal responsibility and management, I overrule even the Warden Commander."
"I think, madam…"
"ENOUGH!" I shouted, and the entire hall quieted. Servants, guards, and companions all looked to me. Only Oghren did not have a touch of fear in his eyes. I reserved my wrath for Woolsey and Varel. "Let me be clear, Mistress Woolsey." I spoke, my voice a strained knot of anger. "I retain final say on all decisions made. If you or the First Warden has a qualm with my management of Amaranthine, he can speak to me in person. I will not be overruled due to what you perceive as youth and ignorance. The situation here is dire, that has not slipped my vision, but I will be damned if I place gold before my people. My people, Mistress Woolsey."
"Your impudence is…"
"I. Am. Not. Finished." I towered over her, letting the blood roaring through my veins have its voice. "This land lay under the grip of a fucking Blight, and your First Warden did nothing. If he thinks to march in and usurp my orders via your suggestions, then he is grievously mistaken. I do not owe Weisshaupt a bloody copper…"
"You owe them an explanation for the deceased wardens of Orlais." Woolsey spoke with the same grating, imperious tone, although her eyes were no longer as defiant.
"My explanation?" I asked, fully in the grip of rage. "My explanation for their deaths can be summarized in two words, Mistress Woolsey. Fucking. Incompetence. There is no reason under heaven that twelve wardens should not have been able to defend against the attack. Perhaps the First Warden should turn his attention to the caliber of his order before sending blood-draining, miserly sycophants to question my authority. So cease threatening me, cease holding your vaunted position above my head, and if you wish your tenure here to have any sort of pleasantness, desist with the questioning of my orders. Am. I. Understood?"
"As you wish. My hands are clean. I wash them of you and your filthy altruism." Woolsey stalked off in high dudgeon, back to her ledgers and figures and narrow view of the human condition.
Rein in your emotion, Salem. I lectured myself, trying to imagine Leliana standing beside me, her calming hand on my arm, her oceanic eyes breathing peace into my heart. You will have need of Mistress Woolsey's considerable wisdom, and quite possibly soon. It will do me no favors to antagonize her…even if I find her distasteful.
"Well spoken, Arlessa." Varel cleared his throat.
I inhaled deeply. "I will thank you not to fight my battles for me, Varel." I spoke, in a gentler tone, one that sounded more myself. "Your support is needed and appreciated, but if you leap too quickly to my defense, you will undermine me, unintentional though it may be."
"Understood, Salem." he smiled, showing grace and understanding and tact and I thanked the Maker he sided with me.
I swayed on my feet as the anger washed out of me, feeling anguish seep into my spirit and exhaustion press down on me yet further. I gazed to the young soldiers and frowned at the fear and uncertainty in their eyes.
"Arlessa," the young man's voice quavered, "what…what is going to happen to us?"
"Exactly what I said." I attempted to smile, to sound encouraging, to be better than the fury. "You are free to return, or you may remain. Whatever you wish. Your lives are your own. Speak with Varel to make the proper arrangements." I leaned in close to the seneschal and whispered. "If funds become an issue, speak to me in private and I will make certain they have all that they need." Varel nodded sharply and I squeezed his shoulder in silent thanks. "I must go look in on the wounded and look through the warden captain's information. The Joining will take place at moon rise. I could use your assistance."
"It will be done." he promised.
I turned to leave when a tentative hand took my arm. I looked back into a pair of clear green eyes that belonged to a girl who could not have been a day older than eighteen.
"Lady Cousland?" she stammered, clearly ill-at-ease with addressing a noble.
"Speak." I offered.
"I…I'd like to stay." she drew herself up, trying to appear older and stronger and un-intimidated and failing at all three. "Haven't got much of a family to go back to, you see."
"Dead?" I asked, compassion quelling the last vestige of anger.
"Bad, ma'am." she shuddered, then braced herself. "Just bad."
"A soldier's life is not an easy one." I cautioned her, testing her mettle.
"No ma'am, it's not at that." she tried to smile. "But you just stood up for us common folk, and you're a noble. It's just not done ma'am, not even in the tall tales. Makes me think I might have a chance at a better life. It'd," she cleared her throat and stood at a shaky attention, "it would be an honor to serve you, Lady Cousland."
"I am the one who is honored." I assured her, trying to quell the tears in my eyes at her bravery and earnestness. "Wait for Varel to finish with the others. He will draw up your contract with the militia and report with you to your captain to explain the change in your status. If you are challenged in any way, send them to me."
"Yes ma'am." her hand snapped up in a sharp salute, and I returned it, turning quickly so that she did not see the tears in my eyes.
Never, I made an oath to myself, never will I place gold above the lives of men and women. The day I make that fatal mistake, I will forfeit my life and damn myself to hell.