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The Landsmeet

Duran watched the confrontation with great interest. His brow was furrowed in intense concentration as he watched the two opposing figures.

The Landsmeet had been called, and not a moment too soon. The Darkspawn were pillaging throughout the countryside and laying to waste whatever they found in their wake. The bravest in the land, for who else could combat such a threat, were nowhere to be found. They had already died. It may have been at Ostagar, Lothering, Honnleath or any of the other countless villages lost to the blight. Those with true courage had sought not to politicise the crisis but bravely face it head on. And that was the reason they were probably already dead. The rest of the country, those with any influence at least, had gathered at the Landsmeet.

Duran had done well. He had organised the numbers with an intellect that betrayed his vast political mind. Many of the gathered Banns owed some kind of a favour to him. Whether it was Bann Vaughan for rescuing him from captivity, Bann Sighard for saving his son from further torture, or even Bann Alfstanna for locating her templar brother. They were all grateful to him and to that end had pledged their support during the proceedings.

Duran had eloquently presented his case. He had challenged Loghain on his knowledge of the slave trade in the alienage, questioned his employ of an apostate blood mage, and of course raised the matter of his conduct at Ostagar.

Loghain had tried valiantly to defend himself. He appealed to his hero status, not wholly insignificant, and to his abilities as a General. But it was not enough. The cards were already stacked against him, and when his own daughter the Queen spoke of his treason his defeat was all but assured.

He had not capitulated willingly though. He howled with rage at the Banns, denounced their cowardice and their willingness to serve the Orlesians. He would not so easily surrender his country to men of lesser value.

Duran had to respect that. Although Loghain had acted dishonorably at Ostagar, Duran was aware of his solid reputation as a brave warrior, and he was glad to see he lived up to the legend in his defiance. In truth, Duran would have been deeply disappointed if Loghain had turned out to be like many of the other 'heros' he had met. Noble only in reputation but decidely lacking in substance.

It was a great pity that his skills couldn't be used. They were sorely needed and would prove to be most useful to Duran. But it could not be. Loghain's actions at Ostagar cemented his fate, and for that he would have to pay the price.

There was nothing else to be done. Duran had made his deal with Alistair, and so, when Loghain had challenged him to combat after losing the landsmeet vote it was Alistair that took his place as champion. It was only fair. After all, it was Alistair that had lost the most at Ostagar. Not only had he lost his mentor Duncan and the other Grey Wardens, but he had also lost his half brother King Cailan. If anyone truly deserved justice it was him.

But there were other more important considerations at play. This was all part of Duran's plan. He had promised Alistair that vengeance should be his, that it would be him and not Duran who would face Loghain in combat.

And so it came to be. Duran watched the two men draw their swords and circle one another. Dueling amongst humans was an oddity to observe. They made such pronouncements and drama before they attacked. The tradition was evidently a young one, unlike that of the Dwarves who had a very prescribed and ancient method of combat.

They were evenly matched, at least at first. The young and eager warrior was offset by the wise and experienced swordsmen. Alistair was attacking too much - far too aggressive. Loghain blocked most of his attacks, using his shield far too often to suit Duran.

It was not an elegant contest. Both men were flustered, their rage knowing no bounds. Alistair held the betrayal and treachery of Ostagar in his heart, intent on exacting revenge upon the man responsible. Loghain held the agent of his fall from power within his grasp. He was aware of Alistair's blood line, but more than that he knew he was a Grey Warden. And that simply meant he was a pawn of the Orlesians, just like Cailan in the end.

The two warriors exchanged blows. Alistair hammered his sword into Loghain's shield with all his might. Loghain stumbled back momentarily, his arm shaking with tension and his face breaking into a sweat, but he was safe. His shield had absorbed the impact and prevented any serious damage.

Alistair used the momentary lapse to follow through with a swinging motion towards the head. But he had overreached, for Loghain easily parried it with his free sword hand and was able to recover the initiative. He countered with a mighty bash from his shield, smashing it firmly into Alistair's facing shoulder and sending him falling to the ground.

Duran continued to observe the contest. Loghain was a master of counter attacks, it was where his legendary skill had come into display. But Alistair's raw power was formidable on its own merits and consequently Loghain was unable to fully capitalise on his retaliatory strikes.

Loghain approached the grounded Alistair and struck his sword with all his might. Alistair moved just in time to avoid it, but he was struggling to free himself from the danger. He was quick for a warrior, but the ground is the last place any fighter wants to be, and for as long as he remained there he was vulnerable.

Duran suppressed a frown. The plan was for Alistair to defeat Loghain. In an ideal world this would come to pass, the victorious Alistair would be grateful and as previously decided would renounce his claims to the throne. In any event Anora surely would not have her father's killer as husband, and Arl Eamon would not permit Loghain's daughter to reign unchecked. No, in such a scenario Duran would be the only satisfactory option to all parties. And of course he would be only too happy to oblige, in the interests of stability of course.

But what if Alistair failed? What if the plan came unstuck and Loghain should kill him. Well he had a plan for that too. Loghain's life as he knew it was over, he could not be permitted to remain in his position. But what if he were to become a Grey Warden? His formidable skills would prove very useful to the order. Arl Eamon could have no objection as he would lose his titles and be firmly under the control of Duran. Anora too would be pleased her father was shown a considerable mercy and in gratitude would accept Duran's offer for marriage, for once more Eamon would not permit Anora to rule unchecked. Either outcome had assured Duran of a most advantageous position. If his brother Bhelen had taught him anything, it was to always have a backup plan.

But in this case the extensive planning was unnecessary. Alistair freed himself from the floor with a powerful kick directed at Loghain's knees. Loghain, as had already been observed, was unable to fully absorb the force of Alistair's blows. He stumbled backwards in pain and though it was only for a moment, Alistair used the opportunity to right himself.

Having regained his composure Alistair lashed out with a renewed fury. It was as though his close brush with death had reiterated the very serious nature of his struggle and compelled him to act with more forceful strength.

The revitalisation proved decisive. For every sword stroke parried, for every thrust blocked, there was at least equal measure given to those blows received. Loghain vainly retreated back from the onslaught, his attempts to fend off the attacks seemed almost half hearted or disinterested in comparison. He was struggling and it was apparent it wouldn't be long now.

Whether it was a last desperate act to be remembered as a soldier first and foremost, or whether it was a genuine attempt to gain the upper hand was immaterial. Loghain broke from his defence and suddenly lunged at Alistair with such ferocity it caused the attacks to cease. Loghain was no longer on the defensive, no longer the brunt of all attacks, but instead he had inflicted a severe wound on Alistair's side. This was the game changer Loghain had needed, he had regained the initiative. It very nearly succeeded, but it could not last. He had left himself horribly exposed and when Alistair regained his composure he saw the opening, for he could hardly have missed it, and he plunged his sword straight through Loghain's breastplate - fatally wounding him.

Loghain didn't die immediately, although Duran was sure the wound would finish him in time. But Alistair would not be satisfied with a capitulation. Nor was a slow and agonising death part of his nature. Other men would have permitted such an end to their enemies, some would have perhaps even enjoyed it. But Alistair was not such a man. He was good hearted, and justice to him meant swift and unhesitating delivery. And so it was, with his heart and mind firmly fixed, that he struck Loghain with the killing blow that silenced him forever.

Anora reacted instantly. In a moment of weakness she forgot her place and knelt beside her father crying aloud, 'Father!' She was careful to conceal her tears, although Duran was certain she shed them. It was a sad scene, and Duran felt not a small portion of sorrow for her loss.

Alistair wiped his sword clean and turned to Duran. His face was grim, betraying no emotion other than that of fulfilling his duty. 'It is done. Duncan and the Wardens are avanged...' He paused for a moment before adding, '...and Cailan.'

Arl Eamon approached cautiously, having observed the proceedings, he too appeared not to take delight in Anora's suffering.

'So it is decided. Alistair you must take your place as King. Even now the darkspawn are gathering across the land and threaten Redcliffe itself.'

He turned to regard Eamon carefully before replying in the most serious of tones, 'No Eamon. I don't want to be King. I never have.'

Eamon's tone betrayed his expectation of such a scenario, though in truth Alistair's serious demeanour had somewhat weakened his resolve. 'But it is in your blood Alistair! Ferelden needs you now more than ever!'

'I never wanted this Eamon. I still don't. I don't know the first thing about ruling a Kingdom.'

Anora rose up from her place, by now having regained both her composure and her grace. She faced Eamon directly, though her words seemed to be addressed to the entire landsmeet and perhaps even Duran in particular.

'You see what Alistair says. He shirks his duty in our countries greatest hour of need. He is not fit to be King, nor does he want it by his own admission.'

Eamon tried to plead with him, a hint of desperation etching into his voice as he sensed he was rapidly losing control of events. 'But Alistair there will be others to guide you in your decisions. You will not be in want of wise counsel and good advice. Perhaps even if you were to marry Anora you could rule jointly as King and Queen.'

Anora interrupted this notion immediately. 'If you think I will marry the man who murdered my father you are mistaken Arl Eamon. I will not marry Alistair and he does not want to be King. I can only propose that I continue as Queen, to provide the leadership Ferelden needs in these difficult times.'

Duran suppressed a smile. It was all going perfectly to plan. It was almost time for him to strike, but not yet.

Eamon shook his head furiously to Anora's proposal. 'You cannot be serious if you think the Landsmeet would support you as Queen. Although you spoke against your father at the end, we cannot know how much a part you played in his machinations or that of Arl Howe. We cannot know if you authorised and supported the selling of Elvish slaves to Tevinter or even if you knew about Loghain's plans to kill Cailan!'

'How dare you!' Shouted Anora. The indignation in her voice was real and unrehearsed. 'I loved my husband and I would never have sanctioned his death. The entire prospect is revolting.'

It was possible Arl Eamon regretted his words, for he showed considerable restraint in his reply. 'Nevertheless your Highness serious questions remain about your role in this affair, and I'm afraid the landsmeet could never agree to you simply remaining on the throne unaccompanied.'

He paused before continuing. 'In any event Anora I hardly think you are the appropriate mediator in this.' He turned to Duran, 'Warden, will you help us?'

'Yes I can settle this.' Replied Duran with almost no hesitation.

'As the arbiter of this dispute what is your decision? Who will lead Ferelden?'

There was a momentary pause in his reply. It had come to a stalemate. It appeared there was no way forward, no resolution that would be acceptable to either party.

It was in such an environment that Duran ventured forth his proposal, having nurtured and advanced the idea in his mind for some time.

Although he spoke directly to Arl Eamon and Anora, his words were loud enough for the chamber. He intended it that way, for he aimed to win the crowd over with his words.

'Your Highness Queen Anora, Your Grace Arl Eamon, allow me to propose a compromise I believe you will find most amiable. Although I am not of Ferelden, you know that I carry within my veins some of the noblest of blood throughout the Thedas. As a Prince of Orzammar I am accustomed to the dealings of leadership and the difficulties in making tough decisions. My people have long been at war with the darkspawn and I have personally led many successful expeditions against their kind, always pushing them back to protect my people. In all that time we have ever been a friend to Ferelden, shielding your fair lands from the excesses of the darkspawn and keeping your people safe.'

He turned to address the landsmeet, for by now he had their complete attention. 'Yet despite those happier times the blight has stretched across your country and threatened its very existence. Your kingdom suffers such a tragedy of epic proportions that I find myself amazed you have been distracted with petty politics and infighting. You have allowed yourselves to be distracted and forgotten that the real enemy is the blight. And yet I am hardly surprised, for you are ill prepared for the horrors of the Archdemon and the terrible truth of a blight.'

'But when I look around me I see a brave and proud people. You are not a nation of cowards or deserters. Ferelden holds an honored place amongst the halls of Orzammar and I say that you are still the same people who defeated the Orlesians and united under Calenhad all those years ago. You cannot lose hope especially in these dark times.'

Duran paused momentarily and directed his gaze forcefully to Arl Eamon. 'Arl Eamon you ask me what is my decision and to me the solution seems quite simple. You are in need of stability and of leadership. And I have the means to ensure you have both. I propose that Queen Anora shall rule Ferelden, with me by her side as her husband.'

The gasps went out around the landsmeet. There was quite clearly a level of shock that Duran had anticipated but perhaps underestimated a little. Although he was sure his speech had sufficiently inspired them, the idea of a Dwarf reigning as King was still a strange concept.

'Warden,' Began Eamon, the hesitation in his voice quite clear. 'I'm afraid that is impossible. Although you are of noble blood and possess admirable qualities desirable for a King, you do not worship the maker and Ferelden could never follow a heathen King.'

Duran smiled and acknowledged the point, for he had already accounted for this and was prepared. 'I have seen many miracles in my journey, all of which have convinced me of the Maker's existence and that of his bride Andraste. Last night I paid a visit to Her Holiness the Revered Mother and asked her to preside over my confirmation as an Andrastan. I was anointed with the holy waters of the Chantry and embraced the communion of Andraste with all my heart.'

The Revered Mother, who had been observing and watching from the balcony, interrupted to confirm his statement. 'It is true my lords and ladies. Prince Aeducan was accepted into the Chantry with open arms. He has provided the Chantry with some relics dating back to the days of the prophetess herself and it is my ardent belief his conversion is genuine. So Andraste herself be my witness.'

Duran continued after the interruption, capitalising on the praise thus foistered on him by the Revered Mother. 'Not withstanding my fervent belief in the Maker, I believe my proposal to be most advantageous for Ferelden. I will pledge to secure an alliance with Orzammar beyond the blight which will ensure the security and prosperity of Ferelden for all time. No longer need you fear your western borders from Orlais, or your reliance on trade with the unstable Free Marches. Orzammar will come to your aid in times of hardship and in times of prosperity, as a friend and as an ally. I swear this on my honor.'

There were murmurings of support. Some whispered the Dwarves would be useful allies indeed, others that strange times called for strange solutions. No doubt there were still those who disagreed, but they were decidely in the minority. It seemed Duran carried the crowd with his sentiments.

This could hardly have been lost on Arl Eamon for he hesitated. It was hard to know what exactly his objection was. The loss of influence in losing Alistair as a King, or was it that he doubted the qualities of Duran? Perhaps it was something more vulgar. Maybe he just didn't like Dwarves. It didn't matter in the end. The crowd seemed to be won over and his objections could hardly matter anymore, but he tried once more to appeal to Alistair.

'Alistair, you must understand that the Theirin blood runs through your veins and that as the son of Maric it is your duty to take the throne.'

He shook his head firmly once again. 'No Eamon. It's just not for me. Duran is the finest man I have ever known, he will make a great King.'

Anora, perhaps sensing she had been thrown a lifeline, picked up on the sentiment and addressed the landsmeet as though the decision was already made and accepted. 'My husband, King Consort, the General of my armies and the hero who will save Ferelden from this blight.'

She came forward, no longer simply talking to Duran or Eamon but addressing the landsmeet at large. 'My first act as Queen must be to insist on receiving Alistair's oath before all the landsmeet to relinquish all claim to the throne for himself and his heirs.'

Alistair seemed surprised by her swiftness, for his response was at first uncertain. 'Oh. I never wanted it. I mean yes, of course. Happily in fact!'

Anora accepted his declaration. There was no need for her to be vindictive. It was done and the matter never be raised again.

'And now lords and ladies of Ferelden, there is still a blight to defeat and armies to gather. I appoint this man, Duran Aeducan, to lead us in both. We will not allow this land to be further threatened by the Archdemon. Gather your forces and await the King Consort's command. On the morrow we shall begin our struggle against the greatest threat Ferelden has ever faced. And we shall triumph over it for we are Ferelden!'

The landsmeet cheered and rejoiced in her announcement. Truly there was such hope and acclaim for the future that even Arl Eamon seemed content that, although his candidate of choice did not ascend, his country had forged a path forward through the crisis.

But none present could have been as pleased as Duran. His scheming and careful planning had paid off. Fate had denied him Orzammar, but it had now delivered him Ferelden. His proposal had been embraced by the nobles, and his victory seemed assured. He only now had to dispose of the Archdemon and defeat the blight to secure his triumph. Now that his own future was secure he smiled. For the first time since Ostagar he was truly confident they would prevail.