It said something about how far Cailan was taking his pursuit of glory in battle when Loghain was actually relieved at the news that Duncan had passed the outer pickets and would be in camp within the hour. Perhaps the Warden-Commander could talk some sense into the boy, convince him of the rashness of his latest plans, which involved Cailan and the Grey Wardens in the vanguard against the major attack that everyone was now sure was coming some time in the next few days.
There'd been several other large attacks since the first one, as well as the patrols encountering smaller groups in the wilderness south of Ostagar; a few patrols had been decimated, one disappeared to a man. There was definitely something nasty stirring here, though whether or not it was truly a blight and not just a sizable outbreak of darkspawn was unsure. There had as of yet been no sign of an actual archdemon.
Almost as aggravating as Cailan's plans to throw himself in the way of danger, were his increasingly outlandish attempts at independent command of the army, and the usually ill-considered changes he kept wanting to make to the plans that had been drawn up and agreed upon before their departure from the capital. It was only by chance that Loghain had even learned of the invitation that Cailan had extended to the Orlesian wardens to join them in combating the darkspawn. They and their escort were due to arrive at the border within days; Loghain had little doubt that said escort would be a sizable force of chevaliers, an army far outnumbering whatever wardens they accompanied, and that removing them from Ferelden soil once they'd been allowed to set foot on it again would be a monumental task. He'd already sent his fastest couriers to the border, with firmly worded orders that the wardens from Orlais were to be forbidden entry. He'd considered allowing the wardens entry and merely refusing their escort, but then decided he wouldn't put it past Orlais to have the wardens conscript the lot of them and claim them all of them as wardens in the name of crossing the border. No, better to leave no loopholes at all.
There was a light tapping on the canvas flap of the tent, then Cauthrien ducked inside, a look of grave concern on her face, a dispatch in her hand.
"Yes, Ser Cauthrien?" he asked.
"Word from the north – I thought it best you saw this immediately," she said, and handed over the scroll. He quickly scanned down it, brows beetling in anger as the words sank in. "What! How dare he...!" he exploded.
"I suppose Howe thought he'd get away with it, with Fergus Cousland and the Highever forces here in the south," she said calmly. "If the youngest Cousland hadn't managed to escape the mess, we might well have heard nothing more then that they'd been wiped out in an attack by unnamed forces, and that he had taken control of the castle in their absence."
"Where is Fergus now?" he said sharply, turning to check the large map spread out on a table nearby, marked with counters showing the disposition of all the forces. A glance at the current position of the laurel-marked counter reminded him. "Damnation – he left on a lengthy scouting patrol yesterday, didn't he. Well, at least he's far away from where any men of Howe's might attempt to do him in as well, assuming any are here; they were supposedly delayed, weren't they? If any do happen to arrive, see them locked up."
"Yes, ser," Cauthrien said. "Will there be anything else?"
"No, that is all. I'd best bring the news to Cailan – the Couslands are his closest cousins, and he's well acquainted with the family. He'll need to hear of Howe's treachery."
Cauthrien nodded. "I believe he's gone over to greet Duncan – I passed him on the bridge on the way here."
Loghain sighed. "I suppose I'd best wait for him to return then. Thank you, Ser Cauthrien."
"Yes, ser," she said, and departed.
He stood looking at the map for a while, frowning, then walked out and waited at the near end of the bridge, until he saw a cheerful-looking Cailan approach, his two guards trailing along in his wake.
"Teryn Loghain – don't tell me there's something we need to discuss now?" he asked, eyes twinkling with mischief. "I had planned to spend the afternoon relaxing in my tent with friends."
"I'm afraid there is something we need to discuss, my king. News from the north that cannot wait," he said softly.
Cailan stilled, raised one eyebrow enquiringly, jarred out of his elated mood by the seriousness of Loghain's response. "News from the north? What is it?"
"Something best spoken of privately first, your majesty."
Cailan nodded, drew himself up, all business for once. "All right. My tent? Or yours?"
"Yours will do."
Cailan nodded, and led the way.
It was late in the day before Loghain finally had a moment free to seek out the Warden-Commander. He spotted him standing talking to his three recruits, Alistair looming at his elbow. The knight and the cut-purse Loghain was already aware of, so the dwarf with the ridiculously coloured hair must be the newest addition. Judging by his light armour and dual weapons, another thief. Hopefully one either more restrained or more talented then the cut-purse, who'd already had to be spoken to several times about the concept of property, and how it applied to the contents of other people's purses and pockets and kitbags.
Duncan dismissed the group, and they headed off with Alistair, trailing in the human's wake like ducklings after their mother, in the direction of the camp gate.
"Warden-Commander," Loghain said, stepping nearer.
"Teryn Loghain," Duncan said neutrally, giving him a wary look. Over the years the two of them had learned to work together when they had to, but it had never been easy for them; too much history of distrust and dislike between the two.
"I was wondering if I might have a word with you?" Loghain asked, and indicated his tent.
Duncan frowned, and moved a step closer, dropping his voice. "If it's about Cailan's battle plan, save your breath – he won't listen to me on the subject either. He's determined to be in the forefront of battle."
Loghain scowled. "He seems to think that the warden immunity to taint is something he can absorb just by proximity," he said caustically. "I hope you have done nothing to encourage that..."
"No! Of course not!" Duncan said, with just enough genuine horror in his voice for Loghain to find himself believing him. "Frankly I dislike this plan of his, but if he's determined to be in the front ranks, then better he be surrounded by wardens then regular soldiers."
Loghain grunted at that. He could hardly disagree with that point, not after having seen the wardens in action several times now. For all the smallness of their numbers, they were a formidable force; he would not have wanted to go against them without at least a fivefold advantage of hand-picked troops, and even then wouldn't feel sanguine about victory unless the numbers were ten to one or better. To a man, they were preternaturally tough and fast. Seeing them cutting into oncoming darkspawn never failed to remind him of a log meeting one of the water-driven multi-bladed saws in the Gwaren planking mills; the log invariably lost.
There being nothing else to be said on the subject, he returned to his tent and his work.
"How fortunate Maric did not live to see his son ready to hand Ferelden over to those who enslaved us for a century!" Loghain grated out, and knew even as the words left his lips that it had been the worst possible thing he could say. Cailan was never going to listen to him now.
"Then our current forces will have to suffice, won't they?" Cailan said coldly, and turned to the two wardens standing nearby, both looking uncomfortable with having been witness to the dispute between the two. "Duncan, are your men ready for battle?"
"They are, your Majesty," Duncan affirmed.
"And this is the recruit I met earlier on the road? I understand congratulations are in order."
The dwarf flicked a look at Duncan before replying. "I don't feel that special."
"Oh, but you are. Every Grey Warden is needed now more than ever," Cailan enthused.
"Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing, Cailan. We must attend to reality," Loghain interrupted, wondering once again what the rawest recruit in the entire army was even doing at the war council. More of Cailan's foolishness, he had little doubt.
"Fine. Speak your strategy. The Grey Wardens and I draw the darkspawn into charging our lines and then...?" Cailan demanded.
Loghain momentarily gritted his teeth. Three days of argument from both Duncan and himself had still failed to dissuade the pri... the king from insisting on his foolish plan. "You will alert the tower to light the beacon, signalling my men to charge from cover," he grated out.
It quickly became apparent why the king had wished the dwarf here; he wished to assign him and Alistair to back up Loghain's men in the tower, and ensure the beacon was lit when it should be. While he couldn't fault the king for taking steps to doubly assure that the signal would be conveyed at the right moment, he couldn't help feeling that Cailan's main goal was to see to it that his bastard brother was safely away from the worst of the fighting. And he couldn't even entirely fault that, either; for all that Alistair had never been acknowledged by Maric or Cailan, if something did happen to Cailan it at least meant the bastard had some chance of surviving the debacle, and carrying on the Theirin line. Which if anything further aggravated Loghain; the boy was willing to make plans in case of his accidental demise, yet not change his plans to prevent it! Ludicrous!
"Thank you, Loghain. I cannot wait for that glorious moment! The Grey Wardens battle beside the king of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil!" Cailan announced rapturously some little while later.
Loghain winced, soothed not at all by glimpsing a similar expression briefly cross Duncan's face before the warden schooled it to his usual neutral expression. The dwarf was giving Cailan a look as if he doubted the young king's sanity. Loghain wished he had the freedom to do the same. "Yes, Cailan. A glorious moment for us all," he snarled as he turned and stalked angrily away.
The boy was going to be the death of him, at this rate. Please the Maker, let things actually go as planned, and his foolish vainglory result in a 'glorious moment' for them all.