Chapter 8: Return to Redcliffe
Redcliffe Village
"I still say we should have gone to Highever. There may still have been men loyal to my family." Fergus stared out over Redcliffe Village, which sat on the southern shore of Lake Calenhad. The lake was as gray as steel beneath the dull sky, and the village, which was built into the cliffs of red earth banked into cliffs, was quiet.
"Operative word there is 'may'," Cailan pointed out. "Here we know there are men loyal to me."
The day spent riding in the cart had passed lazily under the wan daylight. Viviane held the reins and looked over the village. "I can wait here on the outskirts," she said.
"Nonsense," Cailan said. Somehow, being here in familiar territory made him feel less tired, achy and uncertain. Being in the alien wilds had made it difficult to feel like the king. Now he steeled himself and held himself straight and proud as he approached the stone bridge leading into the village. Fergus followed him, and after a moment's hesitation he heard the clop of hooves and clatter of wagon wheels as Viviane followed.
The village looked like it had been through a major battle. Fires burned down into scorch marks in the dry grass and the air smelled of smoke rather than fish. Windows were boarded over. "Did the darkspawn make it here already?" Fergus asked, looking around and coughing as they passed a smoking pile of refuse.
"This isn't the taint," Viviane said. "They would raze this entire village if it were the darkspawn. You saw the lands as we came through."
Cailan nodded as they navigated the wooden paths down the cliff sides and into the village. He tried to remember the last time he was here, but things just blended together. The only really important visit he could recall was when he was fourteen and everything he knew about himself and his father had changed. And the last time he'd had words with Eamon hadn't gone well. He hadn't answered Eamon's last letter to him. He hoped he'd been telling Fergus the truth when he'd said there were people loyal to him in Redcliffe.
The courtyard outside the Chantry was scattered with overturned archery targets and muddy footprints. To one side was a pile of white bones. Cailan blinked and for a moment was back in the Fade surrounded by bodies watching him. He shook his head to clear the image; he was afraid he'd never be free of it, and if that was what Maric had meant by his soul being stolen.
He climbed the steps of the Chantry, suddenly wary and afraid of what he'd find when he opened the door.
The scent of sweat and candles wafted toward him and he looked about. Only a few people were there, righting overturned pews and replacing books in bookshelves. They looked up as Cailan passed. His heart began to pound, but there were few glances of recognition. Then he remembered that he'd hacked off his hair before leaving Flemeth's. It had been one of his most distinguishing features. It had only been a couple of days and he was getting used to it. And now he realized the advantage it afforded him. No one would recognize him, especially since he should not be standing before them.
"What happened here?" he asked the nearest man, a hulking person with the kind of epic moustache Cailan had never been able to grow. His brown hair hung lank around his face, soaked with sweat, and he'd rolled up his sleeves.
"Stranger in these parts?" he asked, but when he looked up he stopped short. "You look like that Warden who came through here," he said after examining Cailan's nervous face and rough-cut hair. "They went up to the castle. Along with Bann Teagan."
"Teagan is here?" Cailan asked, his relief at that fact overwhelming his nerves.
The man nodded and pushed his hair out of his red and glistening face. "Though not sure you want to go up there. People who go up don't come back. 'Cept for the two Wardens and their merry band of misfits. Though we owe them our lives, so I can't fault them for going up in the first place," he added. "Name's Murdock, the mayor of Redcliffe Village."
"Thank you for your help, Murdock," Cailan said, exceedingly glad. While he'd been hoping to talk to Eamon, the truth was he'd always gotten on better with Teagan. Eamon had his own ideas about how to run a country. Teagan just listened, sometimes gave advice; but always just let Cailan be.
"Where are we going now?" Viviane asked as Cailan pushed past her and Fergus. She looked tired, and Cailan realized with regret that she'd been doing most of the work while he and Fergus sat around and bemoaned their injuries.
"Just up to the castle. Then you can rest, I promise," Cailan said. "Alistair and Fianna were here," he told Fergus as he strode by his friend. "They may still be here."
The chance to see his brother, alive and well, along with his uncles, made Cailan feel better than any amount of elfroot or healing magic could have. It even made the trek back uphill to the drawbridge leading to the castle seem easy. He headed into the familiar courtyard, feeling elation. Everything would be fine now.
Three guards in Redcliffe heraldry stopped them. "Who are you that come to Redcliffe Castle?" one asked in a very wary voice. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"We've come to see the Arl," Cailan said, looking past the man and down the empty corridor.
"Join the list," another guard said. "You and everyone else. Unless you're the Wardens come back from Denerim, you can leave."
"What about Bann Teagan?" Cailan asked.
"He's coming out for no one but the Wardens, so you can leave."
Cailan steeled himself. "The King of Ferelden demands you grant him access to this castle."
The guard looked him up and down and his face contorted. Cailan was ready for some sort of tirade, or even a shout of joy, but the guffawing peals of laughter that rang off the stone halls and made others look at them. And though he'd grown up the center of attention, for the first time in his life it embarrassed Cailan. "Where've you been? The King died at Ostagar."
Calian didn't know if he should laugh or not, and for another first, he was at a loss for what to say or do. How could he begin to make things right if no one believed that he truly was King Cailan?
Fergus saved him. "I am Fergus Cousland, Teyrn of Highever," he said and his voice was steady, though Cailan could see the nerves evident in the way he clenched his fists at his side. "And as the Teyrn, I demand you grant us passage. All three of us," he added, leveling his hazel eyes at the guards and gesturing for Cailan and Viviane to come closer. When the guards hesitated he sighed and dug in his own pack, and produced a small velvet pouch. He opened it and carefully dropped a heavy gold ring into his palm, then held it out for the guards to examine: the signet of House Cousland, which would be held by the Teyrn or the one acting in his stead.
Cailan could see the guards were nervous to comply, and may have still denied them had they not been afraid of disobeying a Teyrn. But at last they moved and allowed the three of them passage, while a servant dashed out and took the donkeys' reins and others began to unhitch the cart.
Redcliffe castle had been like a second home to Cailan growing up, and he could find his way through the entire castle blindfolded if he needed to. But as they traversed the halls to the main audience chamber, it was different than he remembered it. Aunt Isolde was very particular about keeping house, and the stone floors were always clean and the tapestries always hung straight. Now scorch marks marred the flagstones. Several wall hangings were torn or hanging askew. Chunks of wood had been taken out of door frames with swords. It was as if the battle had moved from the village right up into the castle.
Fergus showed his signet again to the burly guard. The man crossed his arms over his chest and bowed at the waist, the customary Fereldan show of respect for high nobility. "When father made me take this I thought he was crazy. Or maybe just keeping it out of Fianna's hands," Fergus said. "It may actually be really useful to have."
"Especially since no one believes he's the king," Viviane said, catching the attention of the guard. "It's true," she said to both the guard and Cailan. She reached up and fingered the rough edges of his hacked off hair. "We should even this up. If you are the king, you should at least look like it."
Cailan ducked away from her hand and looked to Fergus for help, but he just grinned, momentarily shaken from the grimness of his new role as the Teyrn of Highever.
The guard saved them by finally opening the door to the audience chamber. Fergus went first, with Cailan and Viviane trailing behind. It was strange, seeing the hall from this angle again. The only times he'd entered this hall in the rear were when he'd come with his father. After Maric's disappearance and Cailan's subsequent coronation, that had changed. And now things had changed yet again. He followed Fergus and caught sight of Bann Teagan, his mother's youngest brother, sitting on the dais, half asleep.
He looked awful, another testament that things had fallen apart here in Redcliffe as well as in Ostagar. Cailan lengthened his stride, but Fergus shot him a look of warning, and he hung back, resisting the urge to pout. "You got your way at Ostagar, and look how that turned out," Fergus muttered, and it was like a slap across Cailan's face. "Let me do this."
"Don't let being Teyrn go to your head or anything," Cailan muttered back, and instantly felt badly. Fergus had this role thrust on his shoulders with no time to think about what it meant; he just had to go with it. When his own father had disappeared at sea, Cailan at least had the luxury of staying abed for a few days and letting Loghain and Anora rule. "Sorry," he said under his breath, but if Fergus heard he didn't acknowledge it.
"Bann Teagan," he said in a solid voice. "It's been many years, but you are known to me and my family: Fergus Cousland, acting Teyrn of Highever." The words rolled off his tongue easily. Bryce Cousland had been an excellent coach in matters of nobility. Cailan often wondered why Fianna hadn't taken on more of those traits, but then again, she probably hadn't expected to have to save Ferelden.
Teagan glanced up. He needed a shave, and his clothing was rumpled. But his tired eyes lit up. "Fergus! We thought you lost at Ostagar, or worse, found by Howe." Teagan stood and grasped Fergus's hand. "Your sister was here just a few days ago, along with another Warden by the name of Alistair. They helped clear up some… family trouble," he said, choosing his words carefully.
"What sort of family trouble?" Cailan asked, stepping out from behind Fergus. Teagan stared at him for a long while, his eyes searching Cailan's face. His brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. "You look like a fish out of water when you do that, you know," he told his uncle, flashing him a lopsided grin and looking him in the eye from under his shaggy hair.
Teagan stepped back, face pale. He glanced over at Viviane who stood a couple paces back from Fergus and Cailan. "What have you brought into this castle?" he asked in a hoarse voice. "What have you done, and what do you want?" He groped at his side for a sword but found none. He kept his eyes trained on Cailan.
Fergus glanced to Cailan and shrugged. "Well, I got us in here," he said. "It's up to you to convince him you're not dead and Viviane's not a blood mage."
"Or any sort of mage," she spoke up.
"Uncle Teagan," Cailan said, striding forward and meeting his uncle. "It really is me. Cailan. I'm not dead." He rubbed at his bruised abdomen and winced. "I should be, but I'm not." Teagan still watched him curiously, his eyes wary. "It's the hair," Cailan said at last to Fergus.
"I told you we need to even it up," Viviane said from behind them, but her comment went unnoticed by Teagan. Fergus, however, glanced at her and nodded.
"If you are Cailan, what did you and my brother fight about the last time you were together?" Teagan asked at last.
The question pierced Cailan more deeply than any enemy's arrow could have. This was one more thing that he would have to set right before he could face Loghain, or the rest of the country again. He looked around, and Fergus and Teagan were waiting. He wasn't sure he wanted Fergus to know, since he'd always envied Fergus and Oriana's warm, openly caring marriage. He cleared his throat and ran a hand over his cropped hair. "Uncle Eamon wanted me to reconsider my marriage to Anora and I told him to get out," he said. "I believe I actually told him that it was clear we'd never see eye to eye, and I didn't want to see him again for a long time. And then you and I went for a ride outside of Denerim so I could clear my head," he added.
Teagan's smile was tentative at first, then it spread wider and his eyes brimmed with tears. Cailan expected his uncle to smother him with a hug and braced himself for the impact with his bruised ribs, but to his surprise Teagan fell to one knee and bowed his head. "Your Majesty," Teagan said in a voice strangled by emotions.
Then to Cailan's complete embarrassment, Fergus did the same. One by one the guards around the perimeter of the room did, too. And finally even Viviane gave in to local custom and bowed, her long light hair falling around her face like a curtain. Only Cailan stood. He felt the flush in his cheeks as he waited, but it became clear that if he waited on them, he'd be waiting forever. "Rise," he said, and his voice cracked a bit. "Teagan, it's me. You know how I feel about ceremony."
Teagan and Fergus stood first and everyone followed and everything went back to normal. "Consider, Cailan, that the display was as much for us as it was for you," Teagan pointed out. "We were told the king of Ferelden was dead; the nation's been in mourning, a Blight is on our doorstep, if not already forcing its way in; Loghain has declared himself regent. Everything's falling apart," he said, seeming to take no notice of the way Cailan's eyebrows climbed with each successive bit of news given. "And then the king returns. You have no idea what a relief this is for me. What it will mean for the people."
The tears in his eyes and the sincere tone in his voice touched Cailan, but it also made him queasy. Still, he forced a smile for his uncle. "That's not a lot to live up to, or anything," he said. Especially when I led so many of them to their deaths.
Finally Teagan grasped his nephew in a tight hug that made Cailan wince. "You are your father's son through and through," he said to him. "If the people didn't see it before, they will have to see it now. Loghain will have to see it now."
At the mention of his father-in-law Cailan bristled. "Sounds like I've missed out on some important information."
Teagan released Cailan. "There is much to be said, but the time and place for saying it is not here." He was looking over Cailan's shoulder, and Cailan turned to see Isolde, Eamon's wife, striding into the hall with her usual imperious look plastered on her face.
"I heard commotion and thought the Wardens had returned," she said, completely bypassing Cailan and Fergus as if they didn't even exist. "Who are these… ruffians, Teagan?" she asked, finally turning to wrinkle her nose at the two men and the Chasind woman, and completely oblivious to Teagan's grin and the guards' uncomfortable looks. "This isn't the time for the village peasants to come begging," she added.
Fergus picked at the edge of his faded woven shirt, and was trying not to smile. "We're not from the village, fair lady," he said. "Times must be rough indeed if the Arlessa of Redcliffe doesn't notice the son of the Teyrn of Highever." Isolde paled and her mouth moved as if she were trying to grasp for words and none would come. "I fought the darkspawn in the Wilds, and unfortunately, this is what happens," he said, gesturing to his unkempt appearance. He needed a shave; his beard was growing in more thickly by the day, except for the one white line slicing up his jaw and cheek where a blade had cut him. And if Cailan's hair was shaggy because of a bad haircut, Fergus's was because it was in dire need of one.
"Isolde, the Wardens have not yet returned, but I think when they do, you'll find that Teyrn Fergus and his companions will be valuable allies. Wouldn't you agree, Your Majesty?" Teagan said, and Cailan could have punched him. Teagan had always enjoyed picking on him. He said it was because as the youngest child, he'd never had the luxury of a sibling and so Cailan would have to do.
Isolde's wide, honey-brown eyes trained on Cailan, trying to reconcile the image of the scruffy man with floppy yellow hair and thickening facial stubble with what she knew King Cailan, her nephew, to look like. "But… it can't be," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Teyrn Loghain's men came through on the return march to Denerim. They said you'd died. And then Eamon took sick…"
"Eamon's sick?" Cailan asked. While he was still relieved at having Teagan here and on his side, as far as politics went Eamon was a heavier hitter. His status as an Arl overruled Teagan's as a Bann. And Eamon was never afraid to pull rank with anyone: sometimes not even his king.
"That's why the Wardens went to the Circle," Teagan said. He rubbed his forehead, as if he'd developed a headache just in the few moments since Isolde had come marching in. Cailan couldn't blame him; she had that effect on people. He looked up and smiled, but it was too bright; forced. "Isolde, we should have the servants ready chambers for our guests," he said decisively. When she tried to protest he held up his hand. "All precautions have been taken, and I have no doubt Alistair and Fianna will return from the Circle Tower soon," he said.
At the mention of Fianna, Fergus straightened up. "You saw my sister? She's well?" he asked, not even trying to keep the eagerness from his voice.
"She's a Grey Warden now," Teagan said, "but she's taking it to heart. I dare say she grew up more in three weeks than in the preceding twenty-two years. But come, I'll show you to rooms. All of you," he added, gesturing to Viviane. She looked uncomfortable with the way attention fell on her, but she managed a stiff nod of thanks. "And then once the King and the Teyrn are settled we'll get to sorting everything out. And most of all, making a plan."
