108. Dwarf in the Big City
As far as sprawling pens of trash and stink went, he'd thought Orzammar took the prize. But this Denerim place… damn. Just… damn.
The humans were making a big to-do about their arrival. It was all "arriving in force" this and "we're making a statement" that. Oghren couldn't be bothered to care. All he knew was that Arl Eamon had the Wardens walking into the city run by a guy who wanted to kill them. Gutsy move. Dumb, but gutsy. He approved.
The Wardens didn't seem bothered by being out in the open, anyway, not with how the elf and Brosca joked as they walked down the street. Oghren was walking right behind them with the Qunari and the assassin. The old woman rode on one of the carts behind them, and who knew where the witch had gone? She disappeared like that from time to time. If Oghren had been able to change his shape, he'd be a flea riding on that one blond maid's fiiine rack. Heh.
It was kind of neat, anyway, how the crowd parted in front of them as they walked through the city. It had been a long time since Oghren had gotten that sort of reaction anywhere. Even if they weren't parting for him… Stone, it felt good to be respected again. Not that he'd let it go to his head or anything.
Arl Eamon and his hangers-on were in the lead, winding them through the crowd, past big blocky buildings and retaining walls, and alleys, and things that the dwarf didn't really have names for. That circular thing they passed, spouting water from the top? No idea what to call that, nor what the blazes it was used for.
"Last time we were here," the elf said to his fellow Wardens, "we had to sneak through the gates in disguise. It's strange just walking through the front door. It's like we're saying, 'Hey, Loghain, we're home. What's for dinner'?"
"With all these fine specimens of warriorhood behind us," Garott chuckled, "who'd dare stop us?"
"It appears they would," Sten spoke up, gazing at the path ahead. Oghren peeked around the side of the line to see why.
Armed men watched them from all sides, coming out of the crannies and crevices of the city to surround them. None made a move to block their path, but it was obvious that these men saw them as intruders.
Heh. This political thing might provide a bit of fun after all.
The caravan kept moving, Arl Eamon showing no concern about the hostile warriors that surrounded them. The caravan headed through a bustling square that even Oghren, in his limited surface experience, could tell was a thriving market. Across the way was a heavy portcullis that rose as they neared. The estate, Oghren assumed.
They were allowed inside, and the various merchants and civilians scattered to the far corners of the estate, but Eamon beckoned the Wardens and company into the front hall.
"By calling the Landsmeet, I have struck the first blow. The advantage, for the moment, is ours." Eamon explained as the Wardens and companions walked with him and Teagan to the front of the hall. His knights arrayed themselves around the large room, obviously wary. "Loghain will have little choice but to show himself, to oppose us directly."
That explained the armed men, then, didn't it? And where a nest of deepstalkers was, there was always a queen. Wouldn't be long before the bitch showed, most likely.
Oghren settled himself in the back of the hall, leaning back against the wall with the Qunari on one side and the assassin on the other. All three of them would gladly jump in if things got out of hand. Judging by the way the elf picked at his nails with his dagger, he suspected they were every bit as eager to shed some blood as Oghren was.
Sure enough, after a couple minutes to settle down, one of Eamon's men came running in, announcing that the regent had arrived.
"Let him in," Eamon said. He stepped forward, and Teagan and the three Wardens arranged themselves behind him, the lot facing the door.
This Loghain fellow made a show of it, entering with the righteous step of the wronged. Behind him marched a butt-ugly man and a rather foxy lady, both armed and armored. They were ready for a fight. Let them try.
Then, Oghren saw Percival's form tense like a pulled bow. Uh oh. Berserker trigger. That might make things messy.
"Loghain," Arl Eamon greeted cordially. "This is an honor, that the regent would find time to greet me personally."
"How could I not welcome a man so important as to call every lord in Ferelden away from his estate while a Blight claws at our land?" Loghain took on the same tone, but he wasn't nearly as good at it. Oghren could hear the accusation underneath his civility.
"The Blight is why I'm here," Eamon said. "With Cailan dead, Ferelden must have a king to lead it-"
"Ferelden has a strong leader," Loghain snapped. "Its queen. And I lead her armies."
Oh joy. More throne-related bullshit. Almost made Oghren homesick.
"Given your wish to concentrate on combating the Blight," a smooth voice said, and Finian stepped forward, "why, then, have you turned so much attention to eradicating us Wardens? Surely, that energy is better served to work together with the Grey Wardens to defeat the Blight?"
Loghain's eyes snapped to the elf disdainfully, but the elf's form didn't even flinch. "I do not join with you Wardens because you are the reason for Cailan's demise. If you hadn't tricked him into believing that-"
"We did no such thing," Percival growled. He was definitely on the edge of his control. Something here was setting him off. Oghren wished he could see the kid's face, to see what that thing was.
"Do not interrupt the teyrn," snapped the woman at Loghain's shoulder. "You are all fugitives, and will respect him for his mercy in allowing you temporary amnesty."
"It's quite all right, Ser Cauthrien," Loghain said. "I expect nothing more from foreign spies."
"Spies? Is that what you think we are?" Finian pressed. "Rest assured, we were all born and raised in Ferelden, and want nothing better than to-"
"In our day," the man at Loghain's other side interrupted in a nasal drawl, "elves knew not to speak in the presence of their betters. How times have changed."
"You've no right to speak of betters, Howe," Percival growled, spitting the name like a curse.
"That is Teyrn Howe to you…" Howe sneered back, "…pup."
Percival gave an animalistic snarl of rage, lunging at the older man. Oghren burst forward to grip the kid before he did something stupid, and was grateful when Finian, Garott, and Teagan all did the same. Hugo barked fiercely at the man, but Wynne and Zevran both grabbed his collar as he tried to lunge.
Percival pulled against their grips as much as his dog did, glaring at Howe. "You will pay for what you did to my family!"
Cauthrien had drawn her sword, but Howe was unperturbed. The bastard smirked, and Oghren began to see why the kid hated him so much. "What I did, child, is bring justice to a nest of traitors to the crown." Percival gave a wordless shout. "For my services, the regent has seen fit to grant me the the Arlship of Denerim, after poor Urien's tragic demise at Ostagar, as well as the Teyrnship of Highever. Fitting, don't you think?"
"I'll have your head!" Percival roared, bucking against their hold. And damn if the kid didn't nearly manage to buck off the four of them, taking two murderous steps toward the man before they managed to stop him again. Oghren could feel the rage flowing through the boy's veins… if they didn't put a stop to this soon, he'd start cutting off heads without looking to see whose heads he was cutting. "YOU TRAITOROUS SON OF A BITCH, I'LL KILL YOU! I SWEAR ON MY FATHER'S GRAVE!"
Sten swooped in from nowhere, easily picking up the thrashing berserker. Cousland was a big kid, but Sten was bigger, so he was able to bodily carry the raging berserker out of the hall.
"YOU'RE DEAD, HOWE!" the boy roared his rage as he disappeared. "YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!" The dog whimpered and ran out after him.
There was a moment of unsettled silence as the echoes of the young man's scream finished rebounding off the walls. Even Eamon's unflappable exterior had been flapped.
"You see what sort of men you've thrown your lot behind, Eamon," Loghain said, breaking the silence, "yet you still defend them? There have been rumors that your illness has left you… unfit."
"Illness?" Eamon replied. "Why not call your poison by its true name? Not everyone at the Landsmeet will cast aside their loyalties as easily as you and these… sycophants."
Cauthrien and Howe both made noises of protest, but Loghain silenced them with a wave. "It is not wise to speak treason in this city. For anyone." He paced a step, then back. "I had thought to talk you down from this rash course of action, Eamon. We must be united now, if we are to endure this crisis."
"Seems to me," Garott rumbled, "the one setting up walls is you."
"Hold your tongue, churl," Cauthrien snapped.
Loghain ignored them, pointing an accusing finger at Eamon. "You divide our nation and weaken our efforts against the Blight with your selfish ambitions to the throne!"
"Then stand with us, my lord," Finian implored. "Together we can take out the archdemon, and then sort out these matters of state once the crisis is over."
"You expect me to put my faith in untried Warden hands? After that?" Loghain waved a hand at the hallway Percival had been dragged down. "You Wardens are menace enough by your very presence in my city without giving your madness any sort of… sanction!"
"We're not a threat," Finian's voice was getting harder. Even he was losing patience. "We merely need to face the darkspawn without your men nipping at our heels!"
"We can handle this threat without you," Loghain said. "We don't need foreign hands dabbling in Ferelden business."
Something in the elf snapped. With deadly cold, the elf said, "Is that what you told the Tevinter slavers you allowed in the Alienage? That you didn't need their 'foreign' help? Or doesn't money count as 'help'?
Beside Oghren, Zevran froze, his head snapping up in alarm about something. In the middle of the room, Loghain had frozen in shock, and everyone else with him. It was an accusation completely out of left field, and to hear the smooth-talking, always amiable elf spit it out like that—with menace and coldness that would have frozen magma—Oghren wasn't surprised that everything stopped for a moment.
"How dare you," Loghain said, regaining his composure. "Such a treasonous accusation… I should arrest you here and now!"
"Bullshit," Finian snapped. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. You sold Ferelden citizens into slavery to fund this… civil war, Loghain, and I have proof."
"You lie."
"Frequently. But not this time." Finian's voice was a low, menacing growl. "I'm done trying to reason with you, Loghain. I hope you've gotten your fix of vicarious power, because come the Landsmeet, we're taking you down one way or another." With that, the elf spun on his heels and stalked out of the room. Garott gave a shrug and followed after him.
Zevran followed, and Oghren trailed after them, because he figured they should stand in solidarity about this. Or something. Or maybe it would just get boring now that the Wardens were leaving.
More likely that last one, actually.