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The day dawned crisp and clear. Denerim was eerily quiet; the people knew what day it was, they all had different opinions on what would happen but for now the reactions were almost unanimous, stay indoors and wait.

Even the gods of the Disc and Thedas were silent as they watched the game open. The fact the many of them had bets placed on the outcome (powers of foresight and/or omnipotence had been prohibited, most unsportsmanlike) might have something to do with it. Countless war gods had speculated on the level of bloodshed and who would cause it (Cohen was unsurprisingly odds on favourite).The Paragons backed their fellow dwarf's victory to a m…dwarf. Om placed a small wager on Loghain being killed by a falling tortoise. It was an outside chance but stranger things had happened.

In the houses of the mighty there was no silence. Servants rushed to and fro as orders were hurled at them from all directions. The soldiers of the capital and the retinues of various nobles polished their armour and sharpened their weapons, just in case. But it was the nobility that faced this momentous day with the most nerves. Who would win? Would they be on the right side? Would whoever wins defeat the Darkspawn?

Eamon brushed off specks of dust from his armour. Loghain checked his own battle armour, taken from an Orleasian Chevalier thirty years before, to make sure it gleamed and made him look like the saviour that he knew he was. Anora scrutinised her dress, her mind turning on what she might have to do to survive. Alistair looked at his father's sword and wondered if he was worthy to carry it. Odin looked at himself in the mirror, his flaming red beard combed for the first time…ever. He had all these ideas, all these plans on the edge of a knife. All of them however had the same thought…

This is it.

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"My Lord and ladies of the Landsmeet Teryn Loghain would have us give up our freedoms, our traditions, out of fear! He placed us on this path, yet we should place our destiny in his hands? Must we sacrifice everything good about our nation to save it?"

Loghain listened to Arl's opening speech. The old aristocratic fool had made quite the rabble rousing call, but not enough. Eamon had been a thorn in his side for far too long; this victory would be far more satisfying than any underhanded poisoning. He stepped forward.

"A fine performance, Eamon, but no one here is taken in by it. You would attempt to put a puppet on the throne and every soul here knows it. The better question is, 'who will pull the strings?'"

He had heard the main door open and it only took a moment and a quick glance to realise whom had arrived. The puppet king and his distinctive allies, all of them matched their reports. At the head of the group was that damn Dwarf he met at Ostagar, who had somehow guided this pretender and broke out of Fort Drakon. Evidently Cautherin had failed to bar the entrance. Hopefully she was still alive; he had lost far too many good people in this war already to arrogant fools who thought they knew how to fight a war. Still this arrival could work to his advantage.

"Ah! And here we have the puppeteer. Tell us warden. How will the Orlesians take our nation from us? Will they deign to send their troops or simply issue their commands from this would-be prince? Where is the famous steadfastness of the dwarves? How much did it cost the empress to buy your loyalty?"

The dwarf raised his eyebrows at that. Touched a nerve perhaps? No he was smirking. "My Lords and Ladies I will admit I am somewhat confused by the Regent's claims. It the Chevaliers that have devastated half the country, destroying everything they touch? The Blight is the threat here, not Orlais!"

"There are enough refugees in my Bannorn now to make that abundantly clear."

That came from Alfstanna, how typical. A noble has a few more mouths to feed and all other priorities disappear.

"The south has fallen, Loghain! Will you let Darkspawn take the whole country for fear of Orlais?"

Loghain turned to Arl Wulff. A shame, he thought, the old warrior was normally so level headed. The deaths of his sons must've unhinged him. Still he had to reassure them.

"The Blight is indeed real, Wulff. But do we need Grey Wardens to fight it? They claim that they alone can end the Blight, yet they failed spectacularly at Ostagar, and they ask to bring with them four legions of Chevaliers. And once we open our border to the Chevaliers can we really expect them to simply return for whence they came?"

Again it was his dwarven nemesis that answered.

"I sure everyone here is familiar with your explanation of Ostagar..."

Loghain eyes narrowed, was this junior warden about to challenge his military record? That would be a serious misstep, unfortunately he didn't.

"… not least because you violently suppressed anyone who challenged or even questioned your story, or rather your mad dog did. You allowed Rendon Howe to imprison and torture innocents."

Loghain frowned. Yes, that was a mistake. He should have kept Howe on a tighter leash. Still one misstep should not hold him back from saving his nation.

"The Warden speaks truly! My son was taken under cover of night. The things done to him…some of them are beyond any healer's skill."

Bann Siguard, another noble blinded by personnel grievances. Can't see the big picture, or won't. Still he must distance himself from Howe's crimes.

"Howe was response for himself. He will answer to the Maker for any wrongs committed in this life, as must we all. But you know that. You were the one that murdered him. Whatever Howe may have done he should have been brought before the Landsmeet. There is no justice for butchering a man in his home."

The dwarf smiled, like a wolf with a fresh kill.

"No? Then why did you send a blood mage to poison Arl Eamon?"

Uproar, a storm of gossip followed that accusation. Loghain was forced to wait until the noise died down before he could respond. After all they had no proof.

"I assure you, Warden, if I were to send someone, it would have been my own soldiers. I would not trust in the discretion of an apostate."

A good answer, measured, dismissive. Then Alfstanna spoke.

"Indeed? My brother tells a very different tale. He says you snatched a blood mage from the Chantry's justice. Coincidence?"

"Do not think the Chantry will overlook this, Teryn Loghain. Interfering in a Templar's scared duty is an offence against the Maker."

The Grand Cleric, that doddering old fool. Chief agent of an Orlesian institution, looking back Loghain wished King Maric had got rid of them after the occupation. Time to change tact, he must win, there was no alternative.

"Whatever I have done, I will answer for later. At the moment however, I wish to know what this Warden has done with my daughter."

As troublesome as she had been these last months she was still his daughter. Also sentimentality always went down well with the nobility, particularly as a distraction.

The dwarf at last looked somewhat annoyed at that.

"What have I done? I protected her from you."

Loghain pressed his advantage, he could smell blood.

"You took my daughter, our Queen by force, killing her guards in the process. What arts have you employed to keep her? Does she even still live?"

The dwarf looked past him and a fresh gasp came from the crowd.

"I believe I can speak for myself."

She looked fine, no sign of coercion or mistreatment. She looked at him sadly.

"Lords and Ladies of the Ferelden; hear me. My father is no longer the man you know. This man is not the hero of River Dane. This man turned his troops aside and refused to protect his King as he fought bravely against the Darkspawn. This man seized Calian's throne before his body was cold and locked me away so I could not reveal his treachery. I would already been killed, were it not for this Grey Warden."

"The queen speaks the truth."

That hit hard.

"So the Warden's influence has poisoned even your mind Anora? I wanted to protect you from this."

But victory always had his price. He had learnt that at a young age and that would not stop him now.

"My lords and ladies, our land has been threatened before. It's been invaded, and lost, and won times beyond counting. We Fereldans have proven that we will never truly be conquered as long as we are united. We must be divided now. Stand with me, and we shall defeat even the Blight itself."

The votes were cast.

"South Reach stands with the Grey Wardens."

"The Wardens associates helped me personally in a… family matter."

For some reason the old man in the group grinned at that.

"Waking Sea stands with the Grey Warden!"

"Dragon's Peak supports the Warden!"

"The Western Hills throw their lot in with the Wardens. Maker help us."

"I stand by Loghain! We've no hope of victory otherwise."

So it went on. He had lost.

"I stand with the Warden! The Blight is coming; we need the Grey Wardens!"

"The Landsmeet is against you Loghain. Step down gracefully."

Restraining his temper in the face of the nobility had always been difficult, this time…

"TRATIORS! Which of you stood against the Orlesian Emperor when his troops flattened your fields and raped your wives? You fought with us once, Eamon. You cared about this land once. Before you got too old and fat and content to even see what you risk. None of you deserve a say in what happens here! None of you have spilled blood for this land the way I have! How dare you judge me!"

The stillness that followed was broken by the dwarf who took a step forward.

"Call off your men and we'll settle this honourably."

So it was to be a straight fight? There was still a chance then.

"Then let us end this. I suppose we both knew it would come to this. When we first met at Ostagar, I would never have thought so. But Ostagar seems like it happened in another lifetime, to someone else. A man is made by the quality of his enemies. Maric told me that once. I wonder if it's more a compliment to you or me. Enough let the Landsmeet declare the terms of the duel."

"It shall be fought according to tradition; attest of arms until one party yields. And we who are assembled shall abide by the outcome."

Bann Alfstanna's pronouncement was met with agreement. Now it was time to see what sort of leader this young upstart was.

"Will you face me yourself or have you a champion?"

Most of the Warden's group looked ready. The young bastard in particular looked eager to face him as did the old man who had… diamonds for teeth, odd. But it was not to be.

"I fight this dual myself."

Good, at least this Dwarf had some honor.

"It is you or me the men will follow. So let us fight for it. Prepare yourself."

Loghain watched his opponent with a warrior's eye. Dual weapons, swords, both were expertly forged. Unusual, few fighters could wield two long swords; most used a dagger or two. Now, was that hubris or skill? The dual began.

Skill as it turned out. In terms of strength and equipment they were even. But this Warden was faster and had more stamina. How he gotten rusty after months in the palace giving orders instead of sparing? Attack after attack rained down upon him while any attempt to counter was met easily. After a few minutes he was exhausted and his shield was nearly cut in two.

I'm going to lose

That thought hit him like a thunderbolt. A moment later his sword was torn from his grip and he sank to his knees.

"I underestimated you Warden. I thought you were like Calian, a child wanting to play at war. I was wrong; there is strength in you I have not seen since Maric died. I yield."

The Warden looked down at him, no sign of triumph or satisfaction, only calculation. What was he planning?

"I accept your surrender."

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