Chapter 133: War Council
The lock wheel turned, from behind the wall came a loud grinding sound, that a strange clicking that shook the whole of the warehouse.
Alim stepped back, not exactly sure what was going to happen. Riordan had given them the means to access this cache, but he still could not help but wonder if there was something the senior warden had not told him.
What if Duncan added something without Riordan's knowledge, the elf thought.
The thought of us all being killed by some booby trap that the previous warden commander had set up would not only be tragic…
The warden's brow furrowed.
It would also be extremely stupid.
The other's clustered around him, the full group had made this journey, just in case Teyrn Loghain decided to have any of his boys jump the wardens outside in the street.
Within this warehouse, hidden behind a secret door was, according to Riordan, the wardens' weapons cache, something they kept in reserve for the protection of Denerim. Since the warden compound in the palace had been seized, all those weapons were now off limits to Alim and his companions, which was very unfortunate.
The elf glanced around at his fellows, they still had the will to fight, but their armor and weapons had definitely seen better days.
They could all use an upgrade or two.
As the group watched, the wall parted like an opening flower, shelves slid back while what looked like boxes of her merchandise slid down. As far as the public knew, this warehouse was only used by a trader who trafficked in produce, this was the place where the rotten stock was stored, the produce that did not arrive fresh, the owner kept it here, while he waited for refunds or to sell what was left to farmers who could feed such left overs to their pigs.
At least, that is what all of Denerim was meant to think.
The building stunk, but that was all part of the cover, no one would try to break into a building filled with rotten fruit and vegetables. The merchants waste actually only took up a small corner near the front, the back was kept clear, in case the wardens needed to dip into their stash.
As the door opened, the smell of rotten fruit was replaced by the scent of oil, leather and steel. Alim was not sure, but he thought even Sten might have gasped at the sight before them.
The elf smiled.
Now this, he thought, this was more like it!
The cache was not just some minor stockpile, stairs led down into a room almost as big and as long as the warehouse in front of it, most of the cache was underground, how the wardens had dug out such a room was beyond Alim's guess, but it was clear that the grey wardens had stored enough weapons here to outfit an army, or survive a very long siege.
The elf nodded.
These…would be quite useful.
"Riordan wasn't kidding," Alistair said from his spot at Alim's side, "I mean…wow…just…WOW!"
The elf chuckled.
"Could not have said it better myself, Ali," he said dryly.
Alistair gave him a broad smile.
"Thanks, Lim."
"You're Welcome."
IOI
The journey to the cache had been prompted by the previous night's war council. With Alim, finally on the mend, the elven warden had summoned his allies to decide what was to be their next move. Riordan, the warden they had rescued from the Howe estate had made his way there two days earlier, but chose to keep his presence as low key as possible, even he had not been sure if Teyrn Loghain would send men to try and recapture Alim.
The old warden felt it best that he not be too open about his presence, should Howe have mentioned his presence to the Regent.
Riordan took a seat near Alim's side, provided the elf need any advice from a senior member of the order. Eamon and Queen Anora joined them as well, with the Landsmeet so close, any possible, helpful suggestion would be appreciated.
The council had begun with the Arl once again putting forth the idea to name Alistair as king. As much as the former Templar did not like the idea, he remained mostly silent while, Eamon, Fergus, and Queen Anora did most of the talking. It came as no surprise that Anora thought Alistair ascending to the throne was a mistake. She still hoped that they might be able to reason with her father, but more and more she feared that he had gone mad, that his fear of a new invasion by Orlais had robbed him of the ability to see sense.
"In these desperate times," the Queen had said putting all of the regality into her voice that she could muster, "You do not need an untested ruler. You need me."
Eamon had shot her an arched look.
"You may be Cailan's widow, Anora," he began, "But…"
"I'm the daughter of Ferelden's greatest general, ser," she said coolly, "Who do you truly think has ruled Ferelden these last six years? Do you think Cailan ever took his duties seriously?"
The Queen shook her head.
"I did what I could for our people. I love our country, and its citizens."
She turned to Alim.
"Supporting my throne is the best and most logical choice warden," she said proudly, "I hope you can see that."
Alim nodded, he had been considering it, he had been thinking quite a bit about it, but it did little to change what he had seen during his brief stay in Fort Drakon.
He had not been the only prisoner locked up in the horrible place. He had heard the guards talking about this noble or this knight, locked away because they refused to support Loghain in his war against his enemies.
His doubts about Anora had nothing to do with her ability to administer a kingdom; it had everything to do with allowing her father to do whatever he wanted over the last year. She had seemingly done nothing as Loghain conducted his war against the Fereldan nobles. If she had protested what was happening, then she had not had the strength to make her father obey. Howe had had so little fear of her that he had actually locked her up, and might have killed her just to frame Eamon for the deed.
Was Anora loved, yes, but was she the best thing for Ferelden right now?
He could not say for certain.
Had she been able to produce an heir with Cailan, things might have been different, as a Queen Mother, Anora could have claimed she acted in the best interest of her child and ousted her father from power. Of course, had she had a child, Loghain could have used said child to complete his strangle hold on the country, as a lord protector, few would doubt his claims. He would not even have needed to crown himself king, he could have sat back and ruled through a child.
Fortunately, that had never come to pass.
Anora and Cailan had been married for five years, and had no children. To most nobles, the fact that they remained childless was both odd, and troubling.
Alim's ears twitched, the move sent a slight tingle where Elissa Cousland had snipped it.
His eyes narrowed.
He remembered the royal arms chest back in Ostagar; he remembered the missives they had found between King Cailan and Empress Celene, and the letter from Eamon to Cailan, the one questioning if it might not be better than Cailan sought another wife, one who might be able to give him an heir.
The elf's mind spun like a hurricane, many possibilities danced through is thoughts.
Had Loghain been having Cailan's missives intercepted, it was possible, but Alim did not buy it.
Who would have had the greatest access to Cailan's letters? Who was in the palace living in the royal quarters with Cailan? If Anora was as loved as everyone claimed, would a page or messenger think twice about handing the king's missives to his queen?
Alim could not say for sure.
Had Anora simply been a pawn in all this, or had she instigated it? Had Howe simply taken advantage of the situation that the queen had created? It was possible. He did not believe everything that Rendon Howe had said, but he did remember one thing quite clearly.
Anora does so love her little games, has she snared you in them now, as well?
Alim considered that.
Had Anora played her father against her husband?
"Warden?"
He blinked.
He looked up to find the queen looking at him.
Alim coughed and gave her a sheepish look.
"My apologies," he said, "My thoughts were elsewhere."
Anora gave him a compassionate look.
"Unsurprising," she said, "Fort Drakon has its ways of holding onto a person, even after they escape its halls."
Alim shuddered.
Eamon sighed heavily.
"We should try to stay on task," the Arl said, "If Loghain succeeds; we may all become far more intimate with the halls of Fort Drakon."
"We would not suffer there long," Alim said.
He looked at Riordan, Theron, and Alistair.
"You can all sense it, can't you?"
The other wardens nodded, their expression turning grim.
"Indeed, little brother," Riordan said, "We are running out of time."
Alim's ears twitched, things must have been bad, he realized.
The term 'little' brother did not bother him in the least.
Alistair glanced at Anora.
"How much time do we have?" he asked.
"Not much," the queen said, "My father seemed very confident about the Landsmeet, either he already has the votes to win, or he had no intention of honoring the lords' decision."
Alim's eyes narrowed.
"But how could he do that?"
The queen shook her head.
"My father has a very large army, warden," she reminded him.
Theron snorted.
"He would crush his own people?" the elf said.
"He might," Anora admitted.
Alim's ears lowered in anger.
"Is there anything you can tell us that might help us get more nobles on our side, Your Majesty, something that your father said, or perhaps Howe?"
The queen's pretty eyes narrowed at the mention of the late Arl of Amaranthine.
"How was a snake," she said, "Ferelden is better off without him."
She smiled at Alim.
"You have my thanks for ending him, warden."
Alim shrugged.
"Don't thank me," he said, "Thank Fergus and Kally, they ended the bastard."
The Queen looked up.
Fergus and Kally stood next to each other, his large hand cupping the elf's small ones.
The royal smiled.
"Then you have my thanks, Your Grace," she said.
Fergus sighed.
"It needed to be done," he said.
"Yeah," Kally said giving Fergus' hand a gentle squeeze.
Fergus smiled, and kissed her on the forehead.
The elf blushed slightly.
Anora nodded.
"Your mother, Eleanor," she said still addressing Fergus, "She was always kind to me, I will see to it that Highever is restored to you when this is all over."
Alim said nothing, but he noticed two things. The woman's decision to ignore Kally's presence, and her assumption that she would still be on the throne when this was all over.
It was yet another point against the queen.
Once again Anora addressed Alim.
"Howe had many schemes warden," she said, "I was not always there when my father met with him, but I did hear things. In recent days, right before Howe offered me his…hospitality. I heard him and my father speaking candidly about unrest in the alienage."
Kally's ears perked up at the mention of her home.
"What about the Alienage?" she asked.
Anora glanced up at the elven girl.
"Denerim has been in chaos since Ostagar. As you all likely know, Howe had the Alienage purged; apparently a group of rebel elves murdered the previous Arl's son."
Kally's ears lowered in anger, her good eye flashed. Fergus put a warning hand on her thigh. She glanced at him, he shook his head no.
Kally took a deep breath and held her temper.
"After that, the Alienage was sealed, only letters in and out, and those passed through the gate. The elves that live outside the Alienage are reporting some new unrest, but with the gates sealed."
Alim's eyes narrowed.
"Can you get us entrance?" he asked the queen.
"Of course," she said giving him a cunning smile.
"I'm still queen, am I not?"
IOI
Seri strode into the armory like she owned the place.
The former dwarven princess went to the first sword rack she saw, yanking out a longsword. She twirled the blade and did a few practice parries and thrusts.
She turned to the wardens with a wide smile.
"Good dwarven steel," she said, "Excellent!"
Alim nodded, and made his way down the others following in his wake.
"We'll see," the elf murmured.
Seri ignored him and set about exploring the treasure trove, armor, long swords, great swords, crossbows, anything a person could need to fight a war.
Her grin widened as she spotted the armors lined up along the wall.
Among them rested a set of full dwarven heavy armor, silverite if she was not mistaken.
"Hello beautiful," she said, "Come to mama."
Zevran came to his lover's side.
He smirked down at her.
"A nice suit," he murmured.
"Indeed," she agreed.
"You would look quite good in it," he said.
She gave him a sly grin.
"I thought you preferred me, out of armor?"
"That is nice too," the elf agreed, "This suit is even better, since you do not have to go to your old lover to get it."
Alim's ears twitched when he heard that.
He smiled slightly.
He had heard that Seri had bumped into her former second in the market place, a former dwarven warrior named Gorim. The man had been banished to the surface when the princess had been banished to the deep roads.
He was apparently married now, but Zev was curious if his love had any remaining feelings for her old bed mate.
Seri chuckled.
"Zevran Arainai," she said, "Are you jealous?"
"Not at all, my dear Seri," he replied, "merely taking note of the competition."
The dwarven woman grinned and swept his legs out from beneath him, Zev's skill prevented him from coming down hard, but he was off balance enough for Seri to pin him to the ground. She straddled him and looked down into his face, a hungry look in her eyes.
"You don't have any competition," she murmured, "Not for me."
Zev grinned and kissed her chastely.
Alim rolled his eyes.
"Save it for your own quarters you two," he grumbled.
Seri grinned and helped Zevran back to his feet.
Alim shook his head.
These were the people the world was counting on to save them from the Blight?
Wonderful.
He glanced over at Leliana; she was going through a collection of leather vests, looking for one that would fit.
He smiled and walked up to her and smiled.
"You want me to trip you and give you a kiss?"
She laughed, but it seemed…forced?
Alim turned her to face him, she was smiling, but it was wan, and tired.
His ears twitched.
"Love," he asked, "Are you okay?"
Leliana sighed.
"We are truly coming to the end, aren't we?" she asked.
Alim shrugged.
"Perhaps," he said, "The Blight is coming; no matter we decide at the Landsmeet."
Leliana shook her head.
"We're not all going to make it, are we?"
Alim winced.
"Love," he murmured, "Don't talk like that."
Leliana gave him a sad smile.
"It is true though, no?"
Alim sighed.
"Probably he said looking around at their fellows. Everyone's expression were ranging from grim to playful, all of them knew what was at stake, but with the Landsmeet so close, they were all feeling a little more free right now. All ready to have the whole mess over with.
The warden's ears drooped slightly.
Leli was right.
It was possible that not everyone in this room would be alive after they finally made their move on the Blight.
He shook his head.
They had been lucky so far, they had lost no one since the ruins in the Brecilian forests. Belle's death still played on his conscience, but he had done the best he could do deal with it.
He was not sure what he would say when one of the others fell; perhaps he would not have to say anything.
Perhaps he would fall as well.
He glanced at Seri and Zev, and Kally and Fergus. The two couples in their group, beside him and Leliana of course, what if one of them died what would it do to the other? He looked over at Sten and Shayle, the two had become friends, they did not shout it out loud like some in their party, but there was affection there.
He looked at Wynne, who smiled at him.
He gave her a gentle nod.
He was glad that he remembered to give her Aneirin's trinket. After she had told him about what had happened, the warden's memory had been jogged. He probably should have given it to her long ago, but he had only just remembered that he had had it in the first place.
Speaking about her former apprentice, learning that he had survived the Templars who had tried to kill him, it had lifted the old mage's spirits.
He was happy to have done that for her, found her some closure.
He looked at Oghren, Theron, and Jowan. Though he had not known the dwarf and Dalish as long as Jowan, he still considered all three his friends.
He wondered what he would do if they fell?
Oghren had reconnected with his old girlfriend back on Lake Calenhad, would he have to go to her, tell her what had happened. Theron had a mate somewhere in the Brecilian Forests, Merrill had been her name.
Would he have to track her down, bring news of his death to his clan?
What about Jowan, his old friend did not say it, but he knew that Jowan still missed Lily, the chantry sister who he had tried to run off with.
Alim shook his head.
Greagoir had said the girl was to be taken to Aeonar; it was not a fate he would risk on anyone!
Would anyone want to know if Jowan fell? Would anyone mourn, beside his friend?
Alim pursed his lips.
He did not know.
He looked at Alistair and Morrigan, still avoiding each other. Yet, they both still remained unable to stop shooting glances at the other.
The elf shook his head.
Alistair may yet become king? Did Alim have the right to risk him? He was the last heir of Calenhad?
What gave Alim the right?
Morrigan, they had already slain her mother, even though Morrigan did not believe that that was permanent. Would Alistair hate him if the witch fell to the darkspawn? Would he blame Alim as Arl Eamon did for the death of his son?
Alim sighed and looked at his lover.
"We're probably not all going to make it," he admitted, "But that does not mean that we shouldn't try."
Leliana smiled and took her lover's hand in hers; she gave it a gentle squeeze.
She gently entwined her fingers with his.
"Whatever happens," she murmured, "I will always be with you."
He smiled.
"And I with you," he murmured.
He looked over at Carver, the young man was admiring one of the grey warden great swords, the blade gleamed pure silverite, the pommel was silver, two rearing griffons with their wings outstretched.
Carver had been close enough to hear their musings, the young man snorted.
"If we die, we die," he said, inspecting the blade, "at least we will go down fighting."
Alim gave him an arched look.
"Don't you have a family waiting for you?" he asked.
"They all think I'm dead," he said with a shrug, "No one misses a dead man, they mourn him; then they move on."
Carver sighed.
He lowered the blade.
"I don't know if my family is alive or dead."
Leliana stepped forward; the priest that she had been came out.
"They would want you to survive Carver," she said, "Your mother, and your sisters."
She smiled at him.
"They would want you to come back to them."
The young warrior snorted.
He moved to put the sword back where he found it. Alim stopped him.
"Keep it," the elf said, "You will need a good blade when the darkspawn come."
Carver sighed, and nodded.
He supposed he would.
IOI
Alim went to one of the old sword racks. He found several blades that looked elven, but not a one had the same feel and heft of Spellbinder.
His eyes narrowed.
Copies made by human hands, he figured, trying to replicate elvhen design.
He pulled a dwarven longsword; it was small enough that he could wield it comfortably, even though the weight still felt strange.
He had been about to turn away, rejoining the others who were just now finishing their own rearming when he saw it.
The warden's elven ears twitched.
That armor, he thought.
He had seen that armor before.
Well, not that armor perhaps, but one just like it. The suit, the breastplate and leggings, it reminded him of the suit that Duncan had worn. Alim's fingers brushed against the breast plate, it was a little big perhaps, but he thought that it might fit.
Next to it, he saw a kite shield; it was emblazoned with the warden insignia. It had also likely been repaired many times, seen many years of service.
He smiled and scooped it up.
He thought that Alistair might like it.
As for the armor…well… he still needed a suit of his own, he did not like the thought of going into battle again wearing just a shirt and trousers under his coat and hat.
The elf smirked.
Everyone thought him the new warden commander; he might as well look the part.
He slipped behind a changing curtain and began to put on the suit.
As he armed and armored himself for the first time since his capture and his incarceration in Fort Drakon, he felt a shiver go down his spine, a cold sense of knowing swept over Alim.
They were coming to the end.
First the Alienage, then Loghain, and then…the darkspawn.
Overhead thunder rumbled.
The elf took that as a good sign.
He slid his new sword into its sheath, from another rack on the wall he found an old whitewood mage's staff, its tip decorated with a large rearing white griffon holding a crystal ball.
When he tapped the staff on the ground, the ball flashed with red light.
The warden smiled.
Now he was ready.
He straightened his hat, and smoothed out his coat as he slipped it on over his new armor.
He stood before the others, now rearmed and armored from the bounty of this cache.
"I'm going into the Alienage," he said, "I need some volunteers?"
The others spoke up, deciding who would go.
Alim let them choose, some of them had a stake in seeing what Loghain was up to. When they were ready they all left the cache together, Alim closed the door and locked it down after they had all passed through.
As one they returned to the street, the elf's features were cold, yet ready.
He thought about Loghain lording over Denerim from the palace, he thought about the Archdemon, skulking in the darkness of the deep roads.
Get ready you bastards, he thought.
Here we come.