Thanks to awesomesauce beta Suilven for her great eye and efforts to slay my bad habits! Thanks as well to special guest beta Wyl for insight regarding the battles, both with the actual fighting and against feral semicolons.
"What do you mean, taken control?" Loghain studied the templar Almonda and the mage Godfrey carefully, looking for any signs of deceit. Though both were obviously tired and bloody, they stood their ground. The templar held his gaze, not flinching under the Teyrn's withering glare; the mage stood close by, studying both carefully.
"What I mean is Remille brought in a number of templars and mages from Orlais over the last few weeks," Almonda said, her voice calm yet emphatic. "It happened slowly; a few templars and mages here and there. When the Knight Commander made mention of it, the First Enchanter said the mages were from the University of Orlais and the Orlesian Circle, coming for a symposium on magical theory."
Godfrey nodded in agreement. "Their numbers increased once the Grey Wardens and King Maric left for the Deep Roads. They—" The mage gasped in wide-eyed surprise as the imposing Teyrn was suddenly loomed over him, his eyes narrowed as he closely studied the mage. Godfrey shrank back slightly, the thought of don't kill the messenger coming to the forefront of his mind.
When he spoke, the Teyrn's voice was low and dangerous. "The King was at Kinloch Hold? When?"
"About a week ago," Almonda said, ticking off the days on her fingers. "Five days, perhaps six. With all the chaos, I have lost track of time. Nevertheless, they were only at Kinloch Hold briefly before leaving for the Deep Roads."
Loghain looked to the horizon, the last of the day's light quickly fading to be replaced by the glittering pinpricks of stars overhead. The army had just made camp not long before. The urge to order the whole of the army to pack up and leave was almost overwhelming. However, the army needed to rest, for they would be ill prepared to find their King if they were nearly dropping from exhaustion. Loghain felt his fists clench, the leather of his gauntlets squeaking loudly in protest; Remille would certainly answer to him for his actions over the last few days—preferably at the end of Loghain's sword—before he personally threw the treacherous First Enchanter off the highest balcony of Kinloch Hold. Let him be shipped back to his precious Orlais a broken sack of flesh and bone.
Returning his attention to the scout, Loghain beckoned him forward. "Take several men and scout the North Road between here and the docks leading to Kinloch Hold. Bring any other mages and templars to me; we will need their help to retake the tower."
"Allow me to go with your scouts, Your Grace," Almonda said, her voice sure and confident. "If they see me with your men, I can assure them that the army is there to help."
Loghain gave the templar his permission with a curt nod, sending Almonda and the scout off to follow their orders. Godfrey watched them leave before turning to the taciturn Teyrn. "And what about me, Your Grace?"
"You, and any mages we find, will accompany the army to Kinloch Hold," Loghain said in explanation. "I am not one to put faith in magic, but I cannot ignore its advantage in this situation. You will aid our march with your haste spells; we need to liberate the Circle as soon as possible." He paused, feeling his lips draw into a snarl. Maker help Remille if he has any implication in the King's disappearance.
With the first light of day, Loghain split off a segment of the army and ordered them to march to the small village on Lake Calenhad hosting the main docks to Kinloch Hold. Several other haggard mages and templars had made their way to the camp during the night, and Loghain sent them with the army with orders to aid the soldiers by whatever means necessary. If there were any Orlesian templars still headed to Circle, they would have to board the ship for the brief journey at the village, and Loghain intended to stop them before they could cause any more trouble than they already had. Securing the docks would be the first step in cutting Remille off from supplies or reinforcements, as well as ensuring that Loghain and his men would sail to Kinloch Hold unopposed.
The remainder of the army began to march to the northern shore of Lake Calenhad and the ships that awaited them there, aided by the haste spells cast by Godfrey and two other mages that had joined the army along the road. The ships waiting for them were swift corsair ships, each with two large angled sails and lightly armored so as not to hinder speed. Two rows of long oars dipped into the water, ready to aid the sails with their powerful strokes. Loghain swallowed a small lump in his throat as he boarded the flagship, a knot of apprehension crawling in his stomach. No Fereldan worth his salt should be sailing; leave that to the Antivans.
The journey south toward Kinloch Hold was swift, the rhythmic motions of the oars accompanied by the beat of drums below deck keeping the rowers in time. Loghain stood at the bow of the flagship, watching as the spire of Kinloch Hold grew larger. A ship was on either side of his corsair, sails full and oars churning through the water as they kept pace with the rhythmic thumping of the drums. A mage and two flanking soldiers were stationed on each bow, the mages ready to protect the ships while the soldiers protected the mages as they drew closer to Kinloch Hold. Loghain was certain that some sort of resistance would show itself once the ships were spotted.
The waters of Lake Calenhad were still and calm as they sailed, a stark contrast to what was no doubt happening in the tower itself. As the ships glided south, something in the water ahead caught Loghain's eye. Reaching into his pack, he brought out his spyglass and scanned the waters before them.
Bodies floated on the surface.
Anger bubbled up inside Loghain, a tightening in his chest that matched the clenching of his fists around the spyglass. With a low growl, he watched as the corsair passed the first of the bodies in the water, the captain of the ship breathing an invocation to the Maker to watch over the poor soul.
A flash of light caught Loghain's eye from shore. Turning his spyglass to his left, he focused his attention toward the rocky beach. A man wearing armor with the heraldry of the King on his breastplate was standing on one of the docks, a large metal mirror in his hands that he moved ever so slightly. Loghain immediately recognized the signal as the one of victory; his men had taken the docks.
"Your Grace, look!"
Loghain turned toward the sound of pounding footsteps as Godfrey approached him, pointing emphatically at the spire of Kinloch Hold. Balls of flame were flying outward from the tower to land in the waters of the lake with a loud hiss. They were not landing close to the ships at the moment, but given the pace the wind and rowers had set, that would soon change.
"Teyrn Loghain," Godfrey said, his finger still pointing to the tower, "those are mages casting fireball spells. They're testing their reach."
"They know we're coming," Loghain said, his voice low and deadly. "Good." In all his years as a general and soldier, the element of surprise was a tactic he liked to use as often as possible. Conversely, there were times he wanted the enemy to see him coming, to see the force he commanded coming directly at them. He wanted the enemy to see them coming and fear them—to fear him.
Loghain turned to the mage beside him. "What spells can you and your mages cast to help keep those on the tower busy while we approach? I do not fancy having our ships set afire."
Godfrey rubbed his chin with his hand as he concentrated, silent for a moment before snapping his fingers in enthusiasm. "I've got it. Three mages can cast individual spells that together can envelop parts of the tower in a blinding storm that can also weaken those inside."
Loghain turned his gaze to the spire, closer now. The mages were still casting fireballs into the water. At the pace the ships were sailing, they would be within range within moments. "How close to the tower can you cast this spell?"
"We'll have to begin casting soon if we want to debilitate the mages. Thank the Maker that the wind is at our back; that will help extend the range of our spells. We can keep the spells rather tight to the walls once the ships draw closer."
"See that you do. I do not want my men to get caught up in the storm as collateral damage." Loghain turned to his lieutenant and signal caller on deck, ordering them closer. "Bring the archers on deck and have them train their arrows on any mages visible. Kill any that attempt to cast a spell toward the ships." Loghain then turned to Godfrey. "Mage, you and your colleagues are to cast your spells at the tower until we have landed on shore. We are going to retake Kinloch Hold and find the King, or die trying."
Urgent shouts in Orlesian filled the tower, accompanied by the thundering footfalls of templars. The cacophony roused Lhiannon from an uneasy doze. As Lhiannon's weary mind rose from unconsciousness, she wondered if Vivian and Rigana were all right; they had been attending classes on a lower floor of the tower when the Orlesians took over. The worry crawled in Lhiannon's stomach, bringing burning tears to her closed eyes. She sighed, knowing that even attempting to sleep again would be futile. Raising her head from where it rested against Anders' shoulder, her gaze was drawn once more to the covered body laying only a few feet away. She grimaced in revulsion, pressing herself closer to Anders' side. Pulling her gaze away from the body, a brief survey of the room revealed Tallia and Jowan sleeping nearby, their backs against the rough wall and heads on their knees. Senior Enchanter Sari was also nearby, tending to a wounded templar in the fierce grip of lyrium withdrawal. Sari looked haggard and tired, but tried to give Lhiannon a reassuring smile nonetheless.
The gravely wounded mage had been brought into their room late the evening before, barely conscious and muttering incoherently. Sari had immediately gone to the mage's side, her face becoming alarmed at the injured man's condition. His skin was waxy in appearance and covered with dark blisters of all shapes and sizes over his exposed skin; some of the blisters were clear, but far more were a dark purple bordering on black. Lhiannon had watched as Sari had turned to the templars.
"This mage is suffering from severe frostbite. Please, he doesn't have much time. Let me use my magic to heal him."
"No," one of the templars had said, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "You have been told not to use your magic."
"I beg of you," Sari had said, her voice quivering with emotion as the mage fell ominously quiet, "please let me heal him. I promise to only use the smallest amount of magic. You can prepare a holy smite if need be, but please let me heal him."
The enchanter's pleas had fallen on deaf ears, and she had turned to Lhiannon, Tallia, and Anders to try and warm the mage in an effort to save his life. He had been covered with what blankets they had and each apprentice had been assigned a hand or foot to try and rewarm. Lhiannon had felt her stomach turn as she had tried to warm the mage's left hand by breathing on it; Sari had warned her to not rub the skin nor move his digits unnecessarily and cause more damage. The blisters on the mage's hand had seemed to change colors by the moment as if they were alive themselves.
Their efforts had been for naught; the mage had died soon after without regaining consciousness. After saying a quick prayer to the Maker, Sari had brought the edge of a blanket up to cover the dead man's face.
Rubbing her eyes, Lhiannon tried to banish the memory from her mind. As she pressed closer to Anders, he stirred and opened his eyes. His arm tightened around her and after a moment, she felt his thumb stroking her in a gesture of reassurance. A grimace crossed his face at the sight of the covered body nearby. He turned to her, his face slightly pale. "You all right?"
"Yeah," Lhiannon said, giving Anders a small smile. "I'd be better without that body lying there. It's creeping me out."
Anders could see the fear in Lhiannon's eyes, the fear that grew with each passing hour of their captivity, for their situation was just that. They were cut off from the other rooms around them, never mind the other floors of the tower. The templars had not shared any information with them on the fate of the others and with not understanding Orlesian, they could not eavesdrop on any conversations. The unknown stoked their fear.
Anders gave Lhiannon a reassuring smile before he looked to where Sari was tending to the templar suffering lyrium withdrawal. The templar, a woman old enough to be their mother, was sitting on the floor with her arms wrapped around her knees, rocking back and forth and muttering phrases from the Chant of Light. She was unresponsive to Sari's questions, not even telling the Senior Enchanter her name. Sari caught Anders' eye, shrugging helplessly. After giving the templar guarding them a suspicious look, Anders grabbed Lhiannon's hand, pulling her over to where Sari and the nameless templar sat.
Anders leaned close to where Sari sat. "What do you suppose will happen to us?"
"Do they want us to swear allegiance to them or something?" Lhiannon quickly added, indicating the templar behind them. "Are they going to let us go back to classes?"
"I doubt it," Sari said, her voice a low snarl as she glanced over to the templar and back to the apprentices again. "With the fighting that's occurred, it's likely that they'll annul the whole tower and start over, maybe even bringing their own mages in."
Lhiannon gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth in shock. "But we're just kids!" She pointed to where Jowan slept nearby. "Like Jowan… he's younger than we are!"
"It doesn't matter. First Enchanter Remille and his Knight Commander can say there are blood mages all through the tower. Their word together would be enough to justify the Right."
Anders scoffed in disbelief. "But don't they have to send the request to the Grand Cathedral in Denerim first? Don't they have to wait for approval?"
Sari snorted lightly, raising her brows at the apprentices before her. "Remille usurped the tower. Do you really think he'd wait for approval?"
Lhiannon and Anders traded a worried glance; she felt her stomach flip inside her once more as Anders pulled her close, partly in fear and partly... something else. I hope someone comes to help us. Fast.
The ground vibrated with the feel of heavily armed soldiers rushing onshore and over the wooden docks, the wood groaning in protest under the weight. War cries filled the air, a cacophony of Orlesian, Fereldan, and the ancient Arcanum of the mages. With sword in hand, Loghain leaped off the gangplank of the boat onto the rocky shore, flexing his knees to absorb the shock of the landing. A number of templars and mages ran out of the tower, rushing toward the Fereldan soldiers with swords and staffs held high, shouting spells, battle cries, and invocations to the Maker in Orlesian.
Loghain's focus narrowed at the prospect of battle, the noise fading toward the back of his perception. He calmly drew the shield off his back as the first of the Orlesians reached him and swung a two-handed sword at his head. Loghain deflected the blow with his shield, pivoting away on the balls of his feet as the templar's momentum carried him forward. Raising his foot, Loghain planted it in the small of the templar's back, shoving him forward and off balance. As the templar fought to regain his footing, Loghain rushed forward and thrust his sword into the man's unprotected armpit. A shrill scream pierced the air as the templar writhed in agony, his cries cut off abruptly as the sword of a Fereldan soldier found the back of the soldier's neck.
Loghain turned about, quickly bringing his shield to bear as a fireball hurtled in his direction. He squeezed his eyes shut as the spell impacted his shield, the force and heat of the magical blast surprisingly strong against him. When the heat dissipated, Loghain lowered his shield slightly to see the mage responsible raising his staff overhead, the shouts of old Arcanum assaulting his ears. Loghain rushed forward, bringing his shield to bear to use as a battering ram against the mage. At the last moment, an Orlesian templar sprang between them, knocking Loghain off balance and sparing the mage the worst of Loghain's attack.
The Teyrn landed on his shield with the templar above him, the Orlesian's weight effectively pinning Loghain's shield arm to the ground and rendering it useless. Loghain kicked and bucked in an attempt to knock the templar off him, nearly wrenching his pinned arm out of its socket in the process. The templar sneered at Loghain's efforts, moving to thrust the pommel of his sword into Loghain's head. Before the templar could swing his arm, an armored hand grabbed the templar by the neck, yanking him off Loghain with a grunt of exertion. The templar quickly regained his footing, bringing his sword to bear against the Fereldan soldier that kept him from his kill. Loghain stood, flanking the Orlesian templar and thrusting his shield into the man's blind side, causing him to stagger.
A second templar rushed toward his comrade to aid him, an angry battle cry filling the air around them. Loghain moved to intercept the new templar, swinging his sword and landing it on the templar's armored breastplate with a ringing crash. The force of the blow knocked the templar off his stride and shook Loghain's arm, an annoying pins and needles sensation rippling through his flesh. The templar turned his full attention toward Loghain, a snicker of amusement audible behind the full helmet covering the templar's face.
"You think you can best me, Dog Lord?"
Loghain sneered at the templar, readying his sword and shield and standing with his weight on the balls of his feet, ready to spring into action at the templar's first move. As the templar brought his sword to the ready, a magical bolt impacted the templar's chest, arcs of lightning dancing across his heavy armor. The templar jerked on his feet and the acrid smell of burning flesh filled the air around them. Loghain heard a triumphant shout as the templar fell. Turning his head, he saw Godfrey standing behind him, his staff pointed menacingly at the templar. Loghain nodded to the mage before turning toward the looming spire of Kinloch Hold.
The Fereldan army was pressing closer to the tower despite the heavy resistance from the Orlesian templars and mages. The mages with the Fereldan army were standing well out of the templars' reach, casing spells at the higher levels of the tower and obscuring it in swirling, angry clouds. Loghain assessed the tower once more, knowing that once inside the battles would likely be fought room to room and up the twisting staircases. Remille was likely in the uppermost levels of the spire surrounded by his most powerful and loyal allies.
Thrusting his sword into the dirt next to him, Loghain quickly stripped the shield from his left arm. It would be a hindrance in the narrow confines of the stairways; he would have to rely on his swordsmanship and heavy silverite plate to protect him. The shield dropped to the ground next to him with a dull thud. Grasping his sword, Loghain began to run toward the battle at the base of the tower. Though he did not entirely trust magic, he would not see the Orlesians supplant the Ferelden Circle. The thought of fighting Orlesians again both turned his stomach and filled him with a terrible exhilaration; he would drive the Orlesians out of his beloved Ferelden once more or die trying.
The smell nearly knocked Loghain off his feet.
He led the army into the lowest level of Kinloch Hold after a fierce battle with the Orlesian templars and mages at the foot of the spire. He split his men up just outside; one half to ascend the tower through a grand door on the far side while he and his men took the back entrance. He stepped over the dead and dying as their blood soaked into the earth and flowed across the stone path leading to the rear entrance of the tower. The smell of blood and excrement was heavy in the air. Passing through the open door of the tower, he stopped abruptly as the smell of corruption assailed his nostrils. It was not overpowering, but was enough to make his stomach turn. He remembered that smell; it was one that no amount of time would ever erase from his memory.
There was no time to contemplate why that smell would be in the tower as another wave of templars and mages surged down the stairway and into the chamber where he and his men stood. They were accompanied by the sounds of thunder reverberating through the tower, the vibrations causing the hanging chandeliers to sway ominously. The commander of this band of templars shouted orders in Orlesian to his men, seeking to use the language barrier to their advantage. They sought to quickly descend the stairs and spread out into the chamber to engage the invaders and thwart their advance. Several of the templars had bows and sought to rain their arrows down upon them.
Loghain heard their shouts and turned to Godfrey, who stood just behind him under the cover of a soldier's shield, casting spells of haste on one Fereldan soldier at a time. Loghain reached out and grabbed his arm, pointing toward the descending Orlesians with his sword. "Cast a spell to immobilize the templars near the foot of the stairs. I want a choke point created so that we can pick them off; they won't be able to advance nor turn around to escape."
Godfrey nodded curtly, turning his attention to the templars coming down the stairs. He would not be able to stop all of the ones nearing the foot of the stairs, but he could stop those following behind. He wove his spell, watching as a glyph appeared on the stairs and stopped a number of the templars in their tracks; others quickly backed up behind them. Confused shouts and barked commands to move forward began to fill the air.
"Crossbows!" Loghain shouted, his sword finding purchase in the neck of a templar who had been knocked to his knees before him. "Take out those men at the top of the stairs!" Almost immediately, the whistle of crossbow bolts filled the air, some errant and hitting the stone walls while others slammed into flesh and armor. Shouts of surprise and pain filled the air, quickly followed by the thuds of armored bodies falling to the floor.
The Fereldan army surged forward, taking the stairs one at a time and pushing the bodies of the fallen out of the way. Resistance began to grow with each floor ascended, though there were few prisoners to be seen. Loghain moved forward near the front of the army, his sword dripping red as he held it in a two-handed grip. As the army cleared another floor of resistance, thunder boomed from overhead, the sound nearly deafening as the tower shook ominously. They were in a large common room with two open staircases spiraling upward along the wall to disappear into the floor above. Bookshelves, tables, and chairs were scattered throughout the room. Books were in singed, disorganized piles on the floor where their cases had been tipped over. Much of the furniture was overturned and broken, some placed in arrangements to provide cover for fighters while others appeared to have barricaded doors. Beyond a pile of debris, Loghain saw an ornate door, thick oak banded with darkened metal and an ancient carving of a dragon etched into the wood. Were it not for the chaos around them, Loghain may well have found himself studying the door. He raised his hand, silently beckoning Godfrey forward from behind him.
"That door… what lies beyond?"
"It eventually leads to the grand hall," Godfrey explained, pointing to the open staircases around him. "There is another door on the opposite side of the room, but it appears someone has barricaded it. The stairs come together and end in a vestibule just outside the double doors to the hall. The thunder sounds like it's coming from there."
Before Loghain could reply, more templars and mages began to appear, spells of fire and ice quickly raining down upon them. Loghain quickly grasped Godfrey and threw the mage to the floor, protecting him from the onslaught of fire with his heavily armed body. Sweat began to pool under his armor, soaking into his padded underclothes and chafing his skin.
"Templars," Loghain shouted, his voice a roar against the magic swirling around them, "smite those mages!"
"But, Your Grace, that could render our own magic useless…"
"It's either that be at the mercy of their onslaught," Loghain shouted, quickly hauling Godfrey to his feet and pushing him closer to the protection of the army. Blinding light filled the chamber as the Fereldan templars called down their holy smite on the Orlesian mages. The righteous power of the templars' might filled the air, causing the hair on the back of Loghain's neck to stand on end. He raised his sword into a ready position, turning to face the approaching Orlesian templars.
A sword swung at him, the templar wielding it uttering a guttural battle cry. Loghain met the swing with a parry of his sword, the clashing of metal ringing in his ears. The templar swung his sword furiously, Loghain deflecting each blow deftly before going on the offensive. The templar was pushed backward by the force of Loghain's blows. As Loghain followed through on a sideways strike of his sword, he raised his elbow and pivoted on his feet, driving his arm into the side of the templar's helmet.
The templar staggered under the momentum; Loghain quickly raised his foot and kicked the templar in the side of his knee, a sickening crack filling the space between them. The templar fell to his other knee, his roar of pain cut off when Loghain brought his sword crashing down into the gap between the templar's helmet and the top of his breastplate, the sword finding purchase in the flesh there. Bright red blood spurted forth from the wound, a fine spray coating Loghain's dark plate while thicker blood stained his sword.
Loghain looked around him, his chest heaving with exertion. His men were slowly gaining the upper hand against what proved to be the most able templars yet. Only a few templars were descending the stairs now; it appeared the main force was engaged with the Fereldan army around him. Loghain waved and shouted to several of his men nearby, leading them toward the stairs and what lay beyond them.
As they climbed, several templars and an ancient, yet powerful mage stepped into their path. Loghain and his men climbed the staircase side by side, engaging the templars along the way. The mage above pelted them with pellets of ice, the sting against his skin causing Loghain to wince in pain. He felt the chill creep through his armor, meeting with his sweat soaked underclothing and cooling his skin. He shivered as he climbed, his thoughts becoming sluggish as the moments passed and his body became colder.
Growling in frustration, Loghain swung the pommel of his sword at the templar engaging him, hearing the satisfying crack as metal met metal. The templar swayed, stunned from the force of Loghain's blow. Loghain reached out and grabbed the staggering templar, pulling the woman in front of him and using her as a shield against the magic the Orlesian mage above rained down on him. The mage snarled, pouring more power into his spell in an effort to reach Loghain through his human shield. The templar in Loghain's grip screamed in pain as the ice and snow seeped into her, her exposed skin turning white and waxy before splitting. Blood welled up from underneath, steaming as it contacted the frozen skin.
As the mage's spell subsided, Loghain pushed his shield aside and leaped over her, racing up the stairs and coming within an arm's reach of the Orlesian mage. With a curse, the mage pulled a vicious looking black dagger from inside his robes, swinging it wildly at Loghain in an effort to defend himself. Loghain easily parried the dagger with his blade and with his momentum, thrust his sword into the stomach of the mage. Bright red blood poured out of the wound and added to the coating already on Loghain's blade. Loghain met the mage's eyes with his own, watching as the fire within them began to falter. He yanked his sword from the mage, grabbing the man's robes and pushing him over the side of the open staircase. Loghain watched the mage fall to the floor below, a sickening thud and swirls of dust rising from the floor as the mage became still. Loghain paused and watched the fighting below him for a moment, a feral grin crossing his face as he saw his army gaining the upper hand. His men had pushed the Orlesian templars against the far wall, crushing them in place like a vice.
The sound of pounding feet on the stairs behind him brought Loghain from his brief reverie. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing one of his lieutenants leading a contingent of men up the stairs. Loghain raised his sword over his head, beckoning them on as he finished the climb and emerged on the floor above. The grand double doors Godfrey mentioned stood before him, a half dozen templars and one mage serving as the only obstacle between the Fereldan army and the grand hall beyond. With a wave of his hand, Loghain and his men rushed forward, the Orlesian templars and mage quickly overwhelmed by the greater numbers against them. Loghain reached forward and grasped the ornate copper handle of one door while another soldier grasped the other. They pulled the doors open, rushing inside the chamber.
The first face Loghain saw amidst the chaos was Maric.
Notes aplenty this chapter. One of our fellow Cheeky Monkeys, mackillian, put a listing of travel times within Thedas on the Cheeky Monkeys site that came in very handy this chapter. She got them from the Dragon Age wiki, W W Westra. com, wardensvigil . com, and swooping-is-bad .live journal. com (without all the spaces). My travel times in both chapters four and five are based roughly on those figures. Timelines in the Dragon Age world are a total nemesis of mine. Case in point: Anders between Awakening and DA2 (don't even get me started). Mack, if you're out there, thanks for all your hard work!
I know in DA and "The Calling" rowboats are used to get people back and forth between the docks and the tower. It's also mentioned in "The Calling" that Loghain and his army arrive on large ships. Where did they come from? My thought was that Loghain and his men met the ships at the northern end of Lake Calenhad, where an unnamed river connects the lake to the Waking Sea. I thought a settlement like West Hill would be a place for larger ships to dock. Since Loghain can't really afford to have small ferries shuttle his army back and forth to Kinloch Hold, he would need the larger ships. Since the North Road and Imperial Highway pass near the northern end of the lake, it made sense to me to have Loghain board ship there.
Thanks to reviewers Wyl, Suilven, DanteAlighieri, cloud1004, Arsinoe, and Tyanilth. Your comments help keep me going.
Thanks as well to all the readers!