Chapter Three: Conscript
"There is it, Torran." Duncan pulled his horse to stop as the companions crested the steep ridge, a great valley stretching out below them. "Ostagar." Torran took in the lush valley with its winding rivers and wild flora interspersed with towering ridges and cliffs. Broken columns and arches littered the valley floor like the bones of an ancient beast, bleached white by sunlight. Straddling a narrow pass in the hills lay the ruined fortress, walls standing strong even after centuries of exposure.
"Is that the Tower of Ishal?" Torran's gaze settled on the tallest structure in the valley, a pitch black behemoth that thrust high into the sky as though defying the Maker itself; a true testament to the arrogance of the Tevinter Imperium.
"Yes," Duncan replied, closely observing the girl from the corner of his eye as he spoke. This was the first time she'd spoken since their argument the night before. "From the top of the tower, a lookout can see for miles and alert the garrison with a signal fire enhanced with a complex system of mirrors. A leftover from the Imperium, I believe. That, amongst other reasons, is why the King chose this place to make a stand against the darkspawn host."
"I see."
The three had made good time since leaving Lothering, riding throughout the first day and reaching the fringes of the Korcari wilds before nightfall. Torran remained a quiet companion, but Duncan could sense a stillness within the girl that had been absent before they reached the frontier town. As they settled down to eat at the end of the first day, Torran surprised him by requesting he tell her the history of the Grey Wardens. Interrupting only to ask questions, the girl sat and listened to him with an intense, attentive gaze that he rarely received from even his own men. They spoke late into the night, stopping only when Torran opened her mouth to ask a question and a rib cracking yawn escaped instead.
The next day passed in much the same fashion, with the girl rising early to carefully groom the horses, spending more time on her black mare than the others. A quick meal followed, and then it was back into the saddle for another day's worth of riding through the rough terrain of the Korcari Wilds. Nightfall found them in yet another defensible clearing, Bear gnawing happily on a rawhide bone Duncan had purchased for him in Lothering, while Torran lavished attention on Never and the two geldings. Dinner was eaten in the usual silence, and when Torran put down her plate and looked up at him expectantly, Duncan decided it was time discuss what would happen when they reached Ostagar.
"Torran, tell me something." He began, congratulating himself on catching the barest flicker in her eyes that indicated he'd caught her interest. Since she'd found her emotional footing, he'd only observed a bare handful of readable emotions in the girl, most of them neutral. "What will you do if the Arl of Amaranthine has beaten us to Ostagar?" He purposefully avoided saying Howe's name, yet the shift in the girl's demeanor was frightening in its intensity.
"I will kill him." Her green eyes went from docile blankness to steely chips, rage roiling behind her flat gaze.
"And what if he has the King's protection?" Duncan met her gaze with a compassionate one, acknowledging the pain he was about to cause, and the damage to her hard won stability that would ensue. It had to be done. "As the Arl of Amaranthine alone he wielded immense influence in King Cailan's court. With the acquisition of Highever, he has extended his control over the entire northern border of Fereldan, not to mention the trade routes over the Waking Sea, and the mountain passes leading to Orzammar and Orlais."
"I-I'll still kill him." Torran's voice wavered, doubt competing with the lust for vengeance. "I have to! I am the rightful Teyrn of Highever, it is my duty to avenge my family, my people!"
"Last of the Cousland line you may be, but upon completing the Joining ceremony and becoming a Grey Warden, you lose all titles you may have had in your previous life." Duncan watched as the words sank in. He had consciously waited until now to relate that particular piece of information. This was her test. Her loyalty to the Wardens needed to be absolute.
"Did my father know this?" Torran demanded, fists clenching in her lap until the knuckles turned white.
"Yes." His eyes softened further as the soft whimper escaped her gritted teeth. "He knew that leaving you alone with a claim to one of the largest teyrnirs in Fereldan would only put you in danger. When you finally become a Warden, you will be outside the law of Fereldan, and any political intrigues attempted by Howe and the other lords will no longer be legitimate if based on your heritage. At the same time, you will no longer be able to claim political vendettas against them, nor the seat of Highever."
"But…" Torran closed her eyes, fighting down the wave of rage that swept over her. She had to understand this. "Howe attacked us without provocation! He killed innocents, my family! How can I have no claim against him for that?" Green eyes blazed with righteous anger as she glared at the Warden who dared call her right to vengeance illegitimate.
"You can lay the accusation before the King, certainly," Duncan replied, meeting her eyes with a solid stare of his own. "The best case scenario would be one where he removes Highever from Arl Howe's possession and puts its leadership to vote among the local Banns, as is usually done when a Teyrn dies without an heir. Regardless," Duncan shrugged dismissively. "You are to be a Warden. Soon, you will realize your other duties are far more important than the fate of a Fereldan teyrnir."
"Then maybe I don't want to be a Warden," Torran growled, entire body shaking as she jumped to her feet, looming over the seated warden. The flames of their fire flickered, casting shadows over her tattooed face as she drew her father's sword. "The Couslands have ruled Highever for time out of mind, before Fereldan even existed, and every single one of them wielded this sword." She slammed it into the earth and leaned on the pommel as she met his gaze. "How can you ask me to give up my claim? My duty?"
"You gave your father your word." Duncan replied, desperately appealing to her sense of honor, heart sinking as he realized he had erred terribly in his gamble. "If not for me, then keep your word to him."
"My father will understand." Torran's shoulders slumped and she turned away, disappearing into the night.
I'm surprised she even returned. Duncan mused to himself as he and the girl carefully led their mounts down the steep ridge, on foot after a treacherous shale slide had almost cost them their extra mount and supplies. They followed the ever sure footed mabari to the valley floor, boots squelching as they tramped through lush the undergrowth.
"When we arrive," Torran glanced up as he addressed her. "I will take you to the King and Teyrn Loghain to present your case. Afterward, I'm sure a place can be found for you within the retinues of one of the Banns, at which point I will leave you. I must ready my men for the battle to come, as well as administer a Joining for the others in your recruit pool."
"Understood," The girl replied without missing a beat, seemingly unconcerned about his looming departure from her side. Duncan gritted his teeth, fighting down his irritation.
The journey across the valley floor to the ruins went much quicker when they remounted their horses, and all too soon they could hear the sounds of the camp before them. Torran stiffened in her seat as the shouts of men began filling the air, sergeants-at-arms harassing their troops as preparations were made for the upcoming battle. She could see soldiers running throughout the bleached white ruins ahead, archers setting up ballistae on the ancient bridge that spanned the gap between the Tower of Ishal and Ostagar proper while elven servants ran back and forth carrying messages and supplies.
Just breathe, Torran. She thought, trying to relax and let the sounds wash over her. She didn't know why the reactions had manifested following...They got me good, baby sister...but she wished the anxiety that reared its ugly head whenever voices were raised or bodies neared would shift to something more understandable. Spiders, for example, or perhaps the color blue.
"Halt and be recognized!" Torran started, then followed Duncan's lead and brought her horse to a stop as a man at arms hailed them from the first visible picket line. They were quickly surrounded by a group of men and women who seemingly appeared out of nowhere from the surrounding foliage, weapons bristling. Bear traded snarls with their oddly painted mabari, keeping his position between his mistress and the strangers.
"I am Duncan, Warden Commander of Fereldan." Duncan introduced himself, and then turned to Torran with a barely noticeable hesitation. "this is…Teyrna Torran Cousland of Highever."
"Cousland? I heard them was traitors. Orlesian sympathizers or summat." Torran stiffened with anger as she heard the whispered mutters, fists clenching around her reins.
"Follow me, Ser." The lead scout replied quickly, shooting a glare that immediately silenced his men. "The King has been awaiting your presence at camp for days."
"Ah, yes. I'm afraid I was….delayed returning from the North." A frown settled across the warden's features. It was clear that rumors of Highever's fall had reached the army, though how much of it was true remained to be seen. "Torran," he murmured softly, conscious of the pricking of their guide's ears as he led them through the second and third picket lines. They were nearly to the Tower of Ishal, and Duncan knew their time to speak freely was short.
"Did Howe beat us?" She replied just as softly, voice and face neutral. Only her whitened knuckles revealed the fight for control he knew was going on inside her head.
"I don't know. When we reach the King, I beg of you, hold it together. We don't know what the situation is yet, but I fear it is far worse than we expected."
"Ah, Duncan, my friend!" the warden and his charge jumped to their feet as King Cailan burst into the conference tent with a boisterous grin and open arms. Like most Fereldan's, the King was fair of hair and eye, though his youth evident in the patchy beard it appeared he was trying to grow. "We feared you would never make it, and who would be left to lead the Wardens then?"
"We could do with fewer undisciplined warriors in our ranks." Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir ducked into the King's tent, the permanent scowl twisting into a sneer as he and Duncan shared a glance. "Perhaps it would be for the best."
"My King, Teyrn Loghain." Duncan crossed his arms and bowed to the two men. "May I introduce-"
"Oh, I know who she is!" Cailan interrupted the warden, as he strode up to a startled Torran and shook her hand. "Bryce's youngest! Torran, was it?" His boyish face hardened as he stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Shame about what had to happen."
"Had to happen…what?" Torran backed up until she was by Duncan's side. This is all wrong!
"Are you saying you weren't aware of your father's espionage?" Teyrn Loghain demanded. "Arl Howe had passed his suspicions to me before, but it wasn't until he discovered the Orlesian documents in your father's study that he was forced into action."
"Espionage? My father was no spy!" Torran shot back angrily. "Arl Howe is lying! He attacked us without provocation and slew everyone in the castle not a ten-day ago! His men killed children, my lords!"
"Then explain these, Teyrna Cousland." Loghain casually tossed a packet of papers onto the large table and watched as the girl picked one up with a shaking hand.
Torran's eyes widened in shock as she took in the all too familiar hand, and ran her finger over the intricate seal. A seal made by the pommel of the sword currently sheathed on her back. "No! These can't be real! My father was an honorable man! He loved Fereldan and her people, your Majesty."
"I'm afraid they are, milady." King Cailan's voice was apologetic, unlike the grating sneer in Loghain's. "Unfortunately, I have encountered far too many honorable men who are easily sold, leaving me little choice in the matter."
"What about the attack, milord?" Duncan stepped in as Torran faltered. "Surely the amount of violence used in taking the castle was unnecessary? Especially if evidence only points to one man? As Teyrna Cousland said, women and children, servants and noble alike, were killed. I witnessed the atrocities myself."
"Collateral." Loghain replied firmly. "We are under attack in the south by the darkspawn, and can allow no weakness, no divisions, especially in the case of Orlesian spies!" His face twisted with hate as he spat the name of their neighboring country.
"Collateral?" Torran hissed, fist squeezing the hilt of the dagger sheath at her side hard enough to leave a painful impression. Beside her, Bear crouched, growl rumbling in the back of his throat as he bared his teeth at the lords. The guards at the tent entrance shifted uncomfortably, hands sliding to their weapons. "You call the murder of my entire family collateral? Oren was five years old, Maker take you!"
But I want to play with a real sword, Auntie! She jerked, dagger sliding in its sheath, the motion startling one of the guards into half drawing his sword.
"Please, everyone, calms yourselves!" Cailan interjected with a weak laugh, raising his hands helplessly. "Peace! Lady Torran, I'm sorry about your family, but my hands are tied in this matter. The Banns of Highever have spoken, and they believe the claims to be true. Under the eyes of the Maker, Arl Howe has been lawfully elected Teyrn of Highever, and there is little I can do without creating an untenable political situation. You do, however, have several options that may be to your liking."
"What sort of options?" Duncan moved so he was just between the infuriated girl and the King, poised to grab her sword hand should she make a rash decision.
"Exile." Loghain replied promptly, enjoying the fear that flashed through the girl's eyes. "You will be stripped of noble title and set on the first ship heading to your country of choice. I wouldn't suggest Orlais, however," he chuckled nastily. "Though I suppose I would have ample reason to have you executed for your father's crimes, if that were the case."
"The Chantry of Lothering has agreed to take you in," Cailan added cheerfully. "Provided, of course, you live out the rest of your days within the bounds of the outpost."
"And the other?" Duncan growled through gritted teeth.
"Arl Howe's second oldest son, Nathaniel, remains unmarried. The Arl has agreed to let Torran come back to Highever if she agrees to marry the boy, and cede inheritance rights to the Howe line." The king's voice implied he hoped she would take the offer.
"I would rather die," Torran bit out harshly. "than marry a Howe. And I would rather live out the rest of my days in the Free Marches, than live in a kingdom ruled by a useless fool like you!" She spat at the King's feet, and the tent immediately rang with the sound of drawn swords.
"Conscription!" Duncan shouted. Loghain held up a lazy fist and the guards stopped their advance, though their swords didn't lower in the slightest. "I invoke the Right of Conscription on this woman, your Majesty."
"Perhaps the best option." Cailan frowned confusedly at the girl, unable to understand why she would have chosen against a good marriage. Alas, if only she'd spent as much time on protocol as swordplay "Very well. Torran Cousland," She met his gaze defiantly, eyes burning with hatred and loathing. "From this day forth, you are stripped of both title and claim to Highever, never to be recovered."
You are the Cousland. Do your duty, daughter. "Your Highness." Torran bowed low, voice and face still, though inside her thoughts were screaming.
"Welcome to the Grey Wardens, recruit." Duncan rested a hand on her shoulder, meeting Loghain's glare with a satisfied one of his own. Though he wished, for Torran's sake, this conversation had gone better, he had ultimately gotten what he wanted.
"Is there anything else?" King Cailan asked, though all could hear the dismissal in his voice. No one spoke. "Good. You will be in good hands with Duncan, Torran. I will be in contact with you in the near future, Warden Commander. We have much to discuss."
"As you wish, your Majesty." Duncan bowed slightly as the King swept from the tent.
"If I see that girl outside of your camp of fools and criminals before the battle, I will have her flogged." Loghain snarled as he strode out of the tent. "You won't always have the King's favor, Warden. I eagerly await that day." The tent flap slid closed behind him and the guards, leaving Torran, Duncan, and Bear alone.
Next Time: The Joining ceremony, tainted truths, and a strange dream.
