Loghain stood in the middle of the blood-stained room, looking around. "And you say they were found like this?"
"Yes, my liege," the guardsman said uneasily. "Sanga notified me of the carnage after one of her workers noticed the smell. I recognized the man there as a soldier working for Arl Howe, and duly notified him."
Loghain nodded. The room reeked like a battlefield, of blood and loosened bowels and urine, from the corpses scattered around the room. "And you say this was done by the Grey Wardens?" he turned and asked Howe.
Rendon nodded. "Yes, sire. I had arranged a trap to lure in people with rebellious leanings – some flyers to lure them here, and a pair of my elite soldiers and some qunari mercenaries lying in wait for them. We'd picked up a few minor people, and then my trap apparently caught bigger prey then it could deal with; from descriptions given by the whores, it sounds like the dwarf, the bastard, and two of their companions – another dwarf and that treacherous elf – came here and slew all four of them some time yesterday."
Loghain scowled. "Do we know if they're still in the city?" he asked.
Howe shrugged. "I've heard no further word of them."
"If I may, my lord," the guardsman said warily. "I have heard more."
"Oh? Speak on, Sergeant... Kylon, wasn't it?"
The sergeant dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Yes, my liege. As you may know, we've been having a problem with bandit groups haunting the back allies for some time; groups I unfortunately do not have sufficient trained men to deal with myself. The chantry had even gone so far as to list a reward for anyone able to deal with them. It was claimed yesterday evening, and judging by the sheer amount of evidence my patrollers have found, it was a well-earned reward – they killed several dozen bandits in total. The description of the group of men responsible matches that of the four seen here. Nor was that all they did."
Loghain sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Maker, he could use a drink. "What else, Sergeant?" he asked tiredly.
"I received an anonymous note this morning directing me to an address not far from here. The remains of a well-hidden blood mage coven."
"Blood mages! In Denerim!" Loghain demanded, horrified.
"Yes, sire. With the recent shortage of able patrollers, it's not just bandits who have been taking advantage of the lack of order in the city," Sergeant Kylon said calmly, only the look in his eyes betraying his fury at learning what had been going on in the city on his watch.
A feeling Loghain could identify with all too well; the thought of blood mages on the loose in the capital city...! Andraste above, it said something about what a mess things were in when they owed more to fugitive Grey Wardens for increased safety in the city streets then they did to their own efforts.
"And you're telling me the Grey Wardens dealt with them as well?" he asked.
"Yes sire. Quite ruthlessly. My men will be all day hauling the bodies out. Possibly longer, an unfortunate number of them seem to have weak stomachs," he added acidly.
"Weak stomachs? Then what in the Maker's name are they doing as guardsmen..." Loghain asked, mystified.
Howe coughed. "I suspect the good Sergeant is referring to the men we transferred to the guards from the army, sire."
"Ah. Right. Them," Loghain agreed. Useless minor younger sons of equally useless minor noble fathers. "Well then, carry on, Sergeant, it sounds like you have your hands full."
Kylon nodded and discretely left. Loghain looked around the slaughterhouse that had been one of the Pearl's better rooms, then abruptly turned and stalked out of the room, down the hallway, and into the bar, currently deserted thanks to the presence of himself, Howe, and their men. The proprietress, Sanga, was seated on a stool at the bar, looking bored and tired. She jumped to her feet and pasted on her making-nice-to-nobles face as soon as the pair of them entered the room.
"Teryn Loghain, Arl Howe – is there anything I can get for you gentlemen?" she asked with a welcoming smile.
Loghain paused, eye caught by the innumerable bottles lined up behind the bar. For a moment he was conflicted between his aching need for a drink, and he resolution to cut back. It was the presence of Howe that decided him. What better proof might he give the man of his continued – and presumably growing – dependance on drink then by partaking now. "A brandy, please," he told the woman, and stalked over to stand at one end of the bar.
"If you'll excuse me, I have arrangements to make about the bodies of my soldiers," Howe said.
"Of course. Go ahead," Loghain urged him, just as glad to see the man's back.
He was rubbing again at his aching forehead when a glass appeared on the bar in front of him, deftly served by Sanga herself.
"I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner those four were wanted men," she said offhandedly. "Two of them spent the night here, and they all breakfasted here before leaving."
"Oh? Really?" Loghain asked, his interest caught by her seemingly casual words. There'd been a time when he and Maric had been frequent customers here – for the gaming and drinks, more than the wenches, though more then once he'd sat out here at the bar while Maric exercised his baser urges in one of the back rooms. Better with a whore then with a mistress, Loghain had always felt – Maker knew Maric's choices in lovers had never been particularly wise. Sanga had often had some quiet word for his ears back then, some hint of rumour she'd felt it politic to mention to the man with the king's ear.
"Yes," she continued quietly, pouring herself a glass of white wine. "They were all quite polite and well-behaved, apart from one of the dwarfs who got a bit too drink-taken."
Loghain swallowed heavily. "How did... how did the boy look?"
Sanga was a smart woman, smart enough to not need any clues as to who the boy might be. She darted a look at him, eyes evaluating him for a long moment before answering. "Spitting image of his father and brother," she finally said softly.
"I know that," Loghain growled. "I've seen the brat before. I meant... how is he?"
"Healthy. Sad. Easily flustered... he has the most delicious blush. Half my whores would have done him for free, if he'd shown the least interest."
Loghain found a smile twitching at one corner of his lips. And how long had it been since he'd last felt like smiling over anything, that this would feel like such a noteworthy event to him. "The full measure of Theirin charm, then," he said dryly.
"Oh yes," she agreed, then stood a moment in silence, sipping at her wine and watching him carefully. "Do you trust that Howe?"
"Never," he growled.
"Good," she murmured, voice only a thread louder then a whisper. "I don't like the use he made of my premises without my knowledge or permission. And him and that Arl Urien were far too close for my liking. Not with some of what I heard said about the old Arl's tastes."
Loghain frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean...?"
She sniffed. "You wouldn't have heard. Not the sort of rumours the nobility would be in any hurry to spread to anyone they didn't think of as their kind. Let's just say that there's more places in Denerim that have dungeons than Fort Drakon and the city jail."
She moved off then, leaving the last of her drink behind her. Loghain frowned, and finished off his own brandy before starting back to the palace.
Once again the wardens vanished into the woodwork, as hard to pin down as vermin. Though this time it wasn't more then a couple weeks later that they heard word of them again; they'd reappeared at Redcliffe, having come to some agreement with the Dalish elves on their way from Denerim to there, and were now returning to the city, openly, along with Arl Eamon and Bann Teagan.
Howe was all for seeing the party ambushed and wiped out on their way to the city, but both Anora and Loghain overruled him; it would only give fuel to their enemies if they acted against the Arl, now that he'd called for a formal Landsmeet. They had no choice now but to beat him politically, if they could. Their own support was increasingly shaky; whether they could manage a majority of the votes now was entirely up in the air.
After months of inertia, it felt like things were coming to a head far too fast. Loghain could only hope that he'd be up to seeing the country through the potential nightmare ahead.