Duty's Choice: The Bastards of Ferelden - Chapter 31

Hunters

On the road between Highever and Denerim – Spring 2, 23rd day

Zevran slowed his pounding jog to an easy walk. He could hear horses, galloping horses, perhaps twenty of them. Had the Templars decided to head directly to Highever from Denerim? If so, they had certainly taken their time. He found cover easily enough in a tree next to the road, an easy shot if needed. Mostly he hoped he would only have to stay very still.

Turned out, he was wrong on both counts.

As the recognizable column of horse came into view, he swung down from his hiding spot. He put himself in the middle of the road, crossed his arms and waited.

Alistair and his Captain of Horse saw the elf at the same time. Alistair issued the command to halt, which the captain echoed. They drew rein three paces away from Zevran, who did not flinch.

"Well?" demanded Alistair as he dismounted.

Zevran, while disappointed in the lack of jibe at their arrival, got right to the point. "She knows. Her Wardens are taking her to Amaranthine."

Alistair looked doubtful. "Why?" he asked slowly.

"The First Warden said he wanted to avoid political problems between Ferelden and the Chantry. He believes that making this confrontation between Wardens and Templars only will do that. I do not believe that is the whole of it."

Alistair wore a troubled expression. "I'm certain its not. Rainer's in love with Elinora."

Zevran's eyebrows raised. "That would explain much."

Alistair went back to his horse. "She shouldn't travel." He swung up into the saddle. "We'll meet them, turn them back for Highever. Make our stand there."

The elf hesitated a moment, then said what many of them were thinking. "Your majesty, he is not wrong."

Alistair's face hardened. "It doesn't matter. Let history judge me as it will, I will fight for the woman I love. Finally."

The Tower of Magi

From his window, Irving watched as yet another boatload of Templars disembarked on the quay. That brought their total to nineteen new Templars milling about with the usual ones. Which if you asked him, was forty-seven too many.

"First Enchanter?"

Irving turned to find an apprentice twitching at his study door. "Yes?"

The boy, no more than fourteen, bobbed something like a bow. "Owain has finished doing as you asked. The Tower is officially out of lyrium." He gulped then spit out, "Isn't that bad?"

Irving smiled. "Oh, I'm sure some will be found soon enough, but not for at least a week. Oh well." He smiled and turned back to the window.

Denerim

When Guard Captain Kylon had been approached by a man named Declan, he had been hoping that the opportunity the royal servant hinted at was cushy job at the palace. As soon as the door closed behind him in the king's royal study, Kylon knew that it would be anything but cushy. King Alistair had a reputation for boyish buoyancy, but that man in front of him was deathly serious.

"If you can't do what I'm about to ask you to do, I understand and you'll be free to go. If you breathe a word of it though, it could mean all our heads. Can I trust your discretion?"

Kylon had gulped, but said, "Yes, your majesty."

The king nodded grimly. "Good." Then proceeded to ask for the impossible.

Yet here Kylon was, in front of the doors of the Great Chantry with a dozen royal guardsmen and an assortments of knights, soldiers and even a couple of banns. They were a fair representation of political and military power in Ferelden, all told. No matter how this turned out, a message was very clearly being sent.

At Kylon's nod, two knights pushed open the great doors. Kylon strode down the aisle, stepping on the last words of the morning services. All eyes fell on the motley army that entered the Chantry.

"What is the meaning of this?" shrieked the Grand Cleric.

Kylon drew himself upright and pulled a signed and sealed parchment from his pouch. "Grand Cleric Aida, you are under arrest for sedition against the crown."

He really didn't think she could get more indignant that she already was, but her pinched face managed to thin and turn bright red. "How dare you! Templars!" She looked furiously about her, but found none. Her eyes returned to Kylon and narrowed. "Oh very clever."

Whispers raged over the crowd, but no one moved. They wanted to see how this turned out.

Kylon cleared his throat and the crowd stilled, wanting to hear every word. "Now, you can come quietly or…"

"I will go no where. I demand the right of sanctuary! You can't take me."

An elderly priest stepped forward and gave Aida a look both sympathetic and hard, like a pillow on a rock. "Um, actually, the right of sanctuary can be annulled if the collective members of the Chantry think it too dangerous to harbor the penitent."

"How dare you?" Aida spat.

"And you," the priest continued, "are anything but penitent."

Aida looked about her wildly, the panic finally setting in. Ferelden brothers and sisters surrounded her. A small army of soldiers held her Chantry, and her flock had a slightly satisfied look on its collective face.

She stepped forward, her hard eyes boring into Kylon. "You will pay. In this life or in the beyond, you will pay."

Kylon kept his expression neutral. "It's the risk we all take, your eminence. Let's go."

With his prisoner surrounded by guards, they left the Chantry and headed for Fort Drakon.

That went well.