Chapter 11 : Subterfuge and Sabotage
Duncan waited patiently in the Hall of Heroes. His new Mabari pup sat at his feet as quietly as a small pup could. Wynne licked absently at Duncan's boots as he gazed up at one of the rough hewn stone statues. Duncan had been carefully examining the Dwarven paragons that ringed the massive room. The ceiling stretched away so high that Duncan wondered if the dwarves had simply hollowed out the mountain, all the way to its peak. He had, of course, been taught a great deal about Dwarven history and culture, and knew these monuments for what they were; representations of dwarves deemed so virtuous and quintessentially dwarven they where elevated among the dwarves to a status not unlike godhood while still alive. He had visited Orzammar a handful of times before, but he'd never had time to really examine the ornate Dwarven entryway before. At this moment, he was staring up at the statue of Branka. He sensed Oghren approaching only moments before he smelled him.
It must be one of his better days, Duncan thought. As Oghren approached, Wynne yipped at Duncan's feet.
"Ah Branka," Oghren said. He looked up at the statue, "You were one proper bitch of a paragon. Here's to you." He reached down and patted Wynne on the head. A flask appeared, almost magically, in his hand, and he took a long pull from it. "I think I might even miss you, woman. It's been dull without you." Oghren secreted the flask away. To Duncan, it just disappeared into Oghren's dense tangle of beard. Oghren gave Duncan a tremendous slap on the back. "I heard you were here, lad. Where's your father? Not still sulking about our last bet, is he? Never met a man who welcomed the embrace of a good blackout so quickly," Oghren said scratching his beard. He winked at Duncan conspiratorially. Then he saw how serious Duncan looked, and he eyes lost their drunken haze instantly. "What is it boy?" he asked.
"I understand your people have not heard the news," Duncan said.
"We rarely pay attention to topsiders. I try to stay informed, seeing as how your parents helped me out so much and all, but... there's ale aplenty and I still drink for free," Oghren said, by way of an explanation, "so I may be a bit foggy on current events. But something serious must be up. The king doesn't just shut the gates to Orzammar for anyone."
"It seems someone wants my mother and me out of the way. For the time being, they have succeeded. But my guess is, my father has done something by now to upset their careful planning. Never underestimate the unpredictability of free will," Duncan said.
Oghren stared dumbly at Duncan for a while. "You're a strange kid, you know that? Maybe if I got a pint or two of ale in you I'd be able to understand you," Oghren said.
"The Q'unari, or more accurately, a traitor influencing the Q'unari, has kidnapped my mother. They sent templars to kill me. My guess is they have attempted to trap my father in the castle to control him. I would also surmise that soon a great force of Ferelden soldiers, minus the templars, will be headed to invade Seheron to respond to the actions of the Q'unari. The Q'unari have likely been preparing for battle for weeks. It will be bloody for both sides, leaving Ferelden and Seheron in very weakened conditions. The traitor will take advantage of this, and will soon control both nations unless something is done about it," Duncan said. He suddenly grimaced. Wynne put her two front paws on his leg and nosed Duncan's hand, licking it with her tiny tongue.
"Is something wrong, son?" Oghren asked concerned.
"The darkspawn are close here. They sense me and speak. Their minds are full of unpleasant thoughts. But think not on it. This is not the time I must deal with them. I need you to do me a favor Oghren," Duncan said.
Oghren smiled warmly, "The dwarven people owe the King and Queen of Ferelden a great debt for many reasons, not the least of which being saving us from this wily minx," Oghren said gesturing to the statue of Branka. "You only need ask, young prince, and it shall be done."
"I need you to sabotage the ships that will be getting ready to leave the port of Denerim," Duncan said serenely.
Oghren laughed heartily, "I see you've inherited your parent's sense of humor!"
"I do not jest. Should the boats launch and land on the shores of Seheron, all those loyal to the King and Queen will perish. It is vitally important that this mission be accomplished. My father may be able to stall the traitor, but the plot will move forward regardless. This thing must be done," Duncan said looking at Oghren steadily.
"Criminey, kid. Why couldn't you have gone to the elves with this request?" Oghren asked.
"This is probably a rhetorical question, but I shall answer anyway. We have no close contacts within the Dalish elf community. You were close to becoming a paragon among your people for your part in stopping the Blight. You could muster a small band of dwarves and do this thing. I suggest you take as many rogues as you can find. This will call for stealth and sabotage, not an assault. And remember, only the ships should go down, not the people aboard them," Duncan said.
Oghren sighed. "Right then. I guess I better get started. But I better get Denerim ale sent my way for life, kid. Barrels of it."
"I shall see it done," Duncan said turning his attentions to the wriggling puppy pulling the leather of his boot.
"Yeah... I bet you will too," Oghren said as he turned to head into the Commons.
**
"What do you expect us to do?" Arl Vaughan asked angrily, "The king and queen are both dead. Their son has been slain by maleficar. We must choose a new ruler before we go to war against the Q'unari. We cannot go into battle without a king!"
The emergency Landsmeet was in an uproar. Nobles were shouting over each other trying to be heard. The room was in chaos.
"Arl Teagan is regent. Why is he not here to speak? Why does he not come to the Landsmeet?" Arl Wulffe shouted out above the din.
"Arl Teagan cannot be trusted! His own brother betrayed the Queen!" Bann Ceorlic said.
"I refuse to believe it! Since when do we lock up nobles without giving them the opportunity to speak on their own behalf? No one has seen or heard from Eamon since his arrest. What's to stop the generals from locking any of us up and declaring us a traitor?" Bann Alfstanna shouted out.
"Enough!" the Grand Cleric spoke loudly. The room quieted as the holy woman stepped forward.
"The people of Ferelden demand justice. The King's death was truly a tragedy none of us anticipated. But he and his queen were much loved. The people will not rest until we march on Seheron and destroy the defilers of our great nation. We cannot do that if we sit in these chambers and argue all day. We must proceed in an orderly fashion and respect the rules of the Landsmeet. Bann Teagan is in the castle. His loyalties remain in question, but he has not, I repeat has not, been arrested. We have no evidence that he was involved in any way, but we are not taking chances. I suggest we select a temporary ruler until such time as a king can be chosen. For Ferelden to be great again, we must stand together. It will not be easy, but it can be done. We will rise from the ashes again" the Grand Cleric said.
The room began to murmur quietly as the Grand Cleric stepped back and sat down wearily. She pulled a small cloth out of the pocket of her sleeve and dabbed at her forehead. General Bativa placed his hand on her shoulder and gave her a questioning look as she gazed up at him. She nodded and turned back to the Landsmeet, waiting for the right moment to speak again.