Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.
Rating: T
Spoilers: May contain spoilers for Origins, Awakening, Origins DL content, and Dragon Age II as well as the novels The Stolen Throne and The Calling.
Chapter Fifty-Six: A Dog of Orlais
The Landsmeet stretched into a fourth day, but thankfully it looked as though it would not drag out further than that. They'd gotten off quite easily, thanks in large part to Arl Vaughan's misguided attempt to throw everyone off balance at the outset which had only served to expedite the toughest sell of the entire session. On that fourth day, Warden Commander Pro Tempore Nathaniel Howe stepped forward to raise the proposition that Ferelden's Grey Wardens break free of the larger order. The look on his face as he took the floor, a smug feline smile, reminded Queen Anora very forcibly of the way old Arl Howe would smile, and that was not a good resemblance to bear, but she trusted Elilia's opinion that this man was nothing like his father.
Or at least, she trusted that opinion to a certain point. Anora reckoned she would remain wary of the Howe family for a good long time. She did think Elilia probably had the proper measure of him, though.
"Your Majesties, Lords and Ladies, for some years the order of the Grey Wardens here in Ferelden has contemplated many serious issues brought to light by the events of the Fifth Blight and subsequent darkspawn conflicts. It has been a difficult decision to make, since we are all aware of the fact that, except for the wisdom of Good King Maric in allowing the Order to return to Ferelden after an exile of two hundred years, Ferelden would have fallen beneath the might of the Archdemon. But it seemed to us, as it must have appeared to many of you, as well, that the wider Order seems to have no great care for the fate of Ferelden. Whatever their reasons, they lifted not a finger to aid us during the Blight once we refused to allow Chevaliers to enter our borders with them, and have done little in the days since except complain about our esteemed former Warden Commander's tactics and her running of the Ferelden Order. Some weeks ago, we received word from Weisshaupt that Warden Commander Elilia was relieved of duty thanks to her 'interference' at the Battle of Sulcher, and she was told immediately to report to the First Warden far away in the Anderfels for 'disciplinary measures.' Evidently, at that point the First Warden had not yet received notification that Warden Elilia was a Warden no longer, and no longer subject to the commands of the Order - if it could be said that she ever was." He tipped Elilia a sly wink as he said this, and more than a few people laughed.
"As per her wishes, in the days since she left the Wardens I have been acting Commander of the Grey. Much has transpired in the Arling of Amaranthine lately, the details of which I will not trouble you with here. Since the dust has settled, temporarily at least, there has been no difficulty in passing news along to the capital, and I'm sure you're all apprised by now of what has happened and how it was handled. Suffice it to say, events have made it impossible for the Ferelden Order to remain neutral in the current political conflict, since being in charge of an important seaport and agricultural area gives us a certain duty to protect the inhabitants thereof. In conference with my Senior Wardens, we came to the joint decision that we will continue to do whatever is necessary to protect the interests of the country we serve, whether the wider Order frowns upon us or nay, since it seems fairly clear to us that we are, and have ever been, more or less on our own. To that end, we have reached a conclusion which I have been tasked to bring before this Landsmeet in the form of a proposal: the Ferelden Wardens seek to cut themselves from the chain of command of the Order of the Grey at Weisshaupt, and to exist within this nation as our own independent Ferelden Grey Wardens unbeholden to any foreign office."
"Do you have the necessary resources to do such a thing?" Bann Alfstanna inquired anxiously. "It may be hundreds of years before the next Blight, and Ferelden cannot be caught unprepared again; be it manpower or supply chains or even secrets, cutting ourselves off forever from the wider Order, attractive as the idea may be, may not be in our best interests in the long term."
"You make an excellent point, my Ladyship. It is true, there are potential drawbacks to withdrawing from the Order; however, given the fact we were left to our own devices in a time of Blight, and given some rather strange facts about the way the Wardens under the command of Warden Commander Duncan dealt with the preparations for that Blight, we believe we will leave ourselves in no worse position than we have ever been, and likely in far better stead. Thanks to Warden Commander Elilia's preparations, we believe we have all supplies and knowledge necessary to keep Ferelden safe for many ages to come. Manpower we may lack, but we believe we can overcome this difficulty, as well. If I might outline what we propose, Your Majesties?"
Alistair gave the nod, although his face had clouded over considerably when Nathaniel mentioned that he found something "strange" in the way Duncan prepared for the Blight and looked very much as if he wanted clarification on that point.
"First of all, we do not agree with the way in which the First Warden imposes a gag rule on vital Warden information regarding the exact function of the Grey Wardens during a Blight. This lack of information may very well have precipitated what happened at Ostagar. We do not believe that there is any danger in being a Warden, even in a time of calm, so great that foreknowledge of it would keep potential volunteers from the Joining. Vital information would always be shared with the leaders of this nation and her military, and recruits would be warned of exactly what they are getting into, and given the chance to change their minds, before the Joining ritual. Anyone who would back out is not someone we need.
"And on that note: the Rite of Conscription. This has been the primary means of bringing recruits to the Order, and we believe it is the wrong method to use. Conscripted soldiers cannot be made to believe in the cause for which they fight, and Wardens should be true believers. Many conscripts do, of course, come to follow their duty wholeheartedly, but that can never be guaranteed. Without Elilia's excellent eye for character, it would be impossible to know whether the man or woman we force into service is up to the challenge or merely a drain on resources." He tipped her another wink then, for he himself was one of those unwilling conscripts brought to a wholehearted embrace of his duty.
"We would keep the Rite of Conscription, for always there is a possibility that numbers would have to be made up in a hurry, such as in the case of another Blight - Maker forfend. But what we propose are regular recruitment drives, where interested young men and women willing to devote their lives to this higher purpose come to a training facility for testing. The promising ones would then be informed of all the duties and hazards of being a Grey Warden before the Joining. Elilia herself sent a proposal to this effect to the First Warden long ago, and was told in no uncertain terms that this was not the way the Order operated."
"That was back in the days when I was still trying to be a good little Warden," Elilia butted in, and there was laughter in the gallery once more.
"In any event, the Order of Ferelden would magnanimously cooperate with the Foreign Warden Order if aid was requested of us, but we would answer only to this nation and her sovereign King and Queen. And further, we would like to submit a proposal requesting that the Order be made independent of the rule of the arling of Amaranthine. The appointment was well-intentioned, and with Elilia in charge it was only too appropriate, but times have changed. The Wardens are not supposed to be a political body, though we are all well aware that this is not always, or even frequently, the case. The Ferelden Wardens, however, wish to be more a military arm of this nation, with the sworn duty to defend against darkspawn attack, and leave the politics to those who have the time and training for it. These were the proposals which myself and my Wardens would like to have brought before you," Nathaniel finished.
"Would like to have brought? Did you not just do so, Warden Commander?" Anora asked.
"Alas, Your Majesty, I fear I am no longer entitled to bring proposals before this Landsmeet, as I would have been were I still acting as Warden Commander. You see, I have been relieved of that duty by the First Warden, who paid much honor to Ferelden by sending his very own Second to take charge of Amaranthine - and of Amaranthine's vote. Your Majesties, Lords and Ladies, may I present to you Second Warden Guillemot du Plesse, now Commander of the Grey in Ferelden and acting Arl of Amaranthine?"
A number of stone-faced individuals wearing the heraldry of the Grey Wardens - and some few wearing the Amaranthine bear - marched into the Landsmeet Chamber, and a stocky man carrying a mage's staff stepped out of the grim line of men and women, hauling on the arm of a man who did not look at all pleased to be there. A dwarven woman was at his back, and red-headed Oghren stood at his other arm. It could not be said that his entourage looked like followers; more like executioners. Or they did up until the moment that the dwarven woman caught sight of her former commander, and waved happily.
"Second Warden Guillemot; a pleasure, Ser," Alistair said, with a smile that looked more like a grimace. "I do hope you've found your stay here in Ferelden pleasant, thus far."
The Second Warden, bald-headed and wearing the most extraordinary curled moustache, short as most Orlesians but built like a bare-knuckles prizefighter, spat out a flurry of angry speech in his native tongue, the gist of which was that he had never been so insulted in his life, and Ferelden was a stinking cesspool filled with Dog Lord barbarians who deserved to be eaten by darkspawn. The mage, slightly taller but not so burly, cuffed him upside the head. "Respect. That's our King you're talking to."
Elilia whispered to Loghain. "You know, he doesn't look like a Guillemot to me. More like a bald eagle." He shushed her with mock exasperation.
"I'm afraid Second Warden Guillemot isn't best pleased with the hospitality we've shown him these past weeks since his arrival," Nathaniel said, and he managed to sound convincingly unhappy about it. "He has promised to register formal complaint against all of us at Weisshaupt. I suppose that means we'll all be cashiered, or whatever it is happens to Wardens who go rogue. Maybe they'll send some of those Anders assassins to dispense a bit of righteous justice on us, since the First Warden is essentially King of the Anderfels these days. However it comes to pass, it seems soon all of Ferelden's native Wardens will be replaced. Probably with Orlesians. They're so close and all, after all."
"Good bloody luck to 'em," Loghain snarled.
"It seems Warden Nathaniel has us over a barrel," Anora said, with a chuckle. "It seems we either ratify the proposal to separate from the Warden Order at large or lose our Wardens entirely."
"Let's expedite matters," Alistair said. "I say we lump the necessaries together and put it to a single vote. The proposal is as follows: Ferelden Wardens declare independence from Weisshaupt, and Ferelden officially appoints Senior Warden Nathaniel Howe as Commander of the Grey. Anyone care to second?"
"I second," Elilia said.
The vote carried and was passed by overwhelming majority, with no one even willing to abstain. Second Warden Guillemot du Plesse looked around him in clear disbelief. "Ferelden fools, you would doom your nation so? When the next Archdemon rises, your land will suffer unimaginable consequences."
"Actually, we can imagine quite well," Alistair said. "Not that long ago, if you remember, we suffered the unimaginable consequences of facing down a Blight with no outside aid and only two Wardens, one of whom was stupid and mean-spirited enough to drop his duties just because his fellow Warden recruited someone he didn't like. And then that third Warden promptly got shipped off to Orlais, and I have to say, you're lucky your country still exists. My understanding is that he tore it up pretty damned good before he left, as it is. The Empress is only just now starting to feel the full consequences herself."
"The armies of Orlais will crush you, and your worthless kingdom, into the dirt," du Plesse snarled. Alistair stood up from his throne so suddenly, and with such an expression upon his face, that many in the gallery took an involuntary step back.
"I am well tired of being threatened," Alistair said, and his affable face was a storm cloud. "I am tired of constantly worrying what tomorrow might bring, what new danger my people must face. I am tired of being afraid. So here and now I say, enough is enough. I will not live in fear for my kingdom, my people, and my children any longer. Do the Wardens want to fight us? Does Orlais want to wage war against us? Bring. It. On. Ferelden will do what Ferelden does best, and fight to the last bloody breath. Perhaps I shall be remembered, like my Great-Grandfather King Brandel, as King Alistair the Defeated. It strikes me as a better name to bear throughout history than King Alistair the Capitulator. When you return to Weisshaupt, Second Warden Guillemot - which I suggest you do at the earliest opportunity - perhaps you could pass along that message for me."
The Wardens turned their charge around and began to march him out of the chamber, but a few steps and the mage hesitated. "Warden Velanna, if you could please?" he said, and an elven woman in the most remarkable skin robes stepped up to take his place at the Second Warden's arm. He turned and bowed low before the throne, which Alistair had just settled back into with a tired sigh.
"Your Majesty, forgive me - my name is Warden Bannistre, formerly of Kinloch Hold. I would like to say for myself what an honor it is to stand before you today, and I would like also to say a brief word, if I may, to Champion Hawke? That is she, is it not, at attention behind the throne?"
"Please, go ahead Warden Bannistre."
Hawke came forward and eyed the mage questioningly and a bit warily. He bowed low to the King and Queen, and then again to the Champion. "My Lady, I cannot begin to express my gratitude to you for everything you have done for mage-kind, sentiments I am sure many mages wish they had the opportunity to properly express. I…was very young when I was taken to the Circle, you understand, and remember very little about my life before, so perhaps it is only in my head that the resemblance exists, but it seems to me I recall a portrait of my older sister, who left our home before I was born, and she looked, I think, very much like you. Her name was Leandra. Leandra Amell."
Hawke's breath caught, then released. "My mother. I think you knew." Bannistre nodded solemnly and spread his arms in a curious gesture.
"A Circle mage learns not to think of his having any family," he said. "But that doesn't mean they simply cease to exist. It was rather a shock to the system, after so long a man with no ties to anyone, to realize that the woman who saved the Kirkwall Circle from Annulment was my own niece. I realize my name is nothing to you, but I simply wished you to know you have your uncle's thanks. And that he is proud of you."
"I realize you have duties to the Wardens that must take precedence, but perhaps we could find the time to speak together privately?" Hawke said. "My sister, Bethany, would also like a chance to meet you, I feel sure."
"There is nothing I would like more."
"There is to be a grand dinner ball tomorrow night, Warden Bannistre, to honor the engagement of my father to Teyrna Elilia, as well as the appointments of Teyrna Elilia and Bann Cauthrien. It would be a great compliment to the Teyrna, I am sure, as well as to your nieces if you were able to attend. I would take this moment to extend invitations to Warden Commander Nathaniel and the other Senior Wardens currently here in Denerim, as well," Anora said.
Loghain wasn't exactly sure why he was surprised to hear it. He lost the next few minutes of talk in sour contemplation of being put on display yet again. Maker's ass, surely even Anora was getting tired of feasts and festivals by this time?
Finally his attention was recaptured by the question of what to do about Nathaniel's proposal that the arling of Amaranthine be taken from the Wardens. The biggest issue was, of course, what to do with the Wardens if Vigil's Keep was no longer their home; Elilia had managed to recruit enough new Wardens over the years that a place so large was utterly necessary. Elilia, it seemed, had a possible solution.
"A long time ago, a merchant named Levi Dryden asked me if I might not find time to look into Soldier's Peak," she said. "What with one thing and another - Blights, Architects, et cetera - I didn't really get around to it and eventually it slipped my mind entirely. It was the Warden's home two hundred years ago, until the Order was thrown out of Ferelden by King Arland. If the place is still serviceable, it could be the Warden's home again. Doubtless it will need extensive renovations after so long, but parts of it may be livable now. It isn't that far from Vigil's Keep, really."
"But it raises the question: to whom should the arling of Amaranthine fall?" Anora asked, once many other details were hammered out. "Does anyone have a nomination?"
"I do, Your Majesty." Fergus Cousland stepped forward and gave a half-bow, half-salute. "I nominate Delilah Howe. She has served well over the portion of the arling I restored to her and her young son some years ago after Warden Nathaniel saved my life, and I believe she would make an exemplary arlessa."
He addressed the gallery at large. "I know that Rendon Howe did a terrible thing - no one here knows it better than my sister and I. But we must not forget the good and noble service this nation has had from the Howe family throughout history. Rendon Howe's own son, Thomas - though a man with many vices - fought bravely against the darkspawn at the battle of Denerim and gave up his life there. His son Nathaniel is now our Commander of the Grey, and has given Ferelden many years of good service as a Warden. His uncle, Arl Byron Howe, fought and died for the cause of Ferelden independence at the battle of White River, and Rendon Howe himself also gave good service to our nation in that time of war. I do not think it wise to forget that despite the evils he committed later. Delilah Howe has not the madness, or wickedness, or bitterness that drove her father to the sins of the Blight, and nor does her son Ianan. She is a careful, considerate, compassionate administrator, and she is teaching her child to follow after."
"Anyone to second?" Alistair asked.
"I second," Arl Leonas Bryland said. "I know Delilah, and I know that what His Grace Teyrn Fergus says of her is true. She would be a fine Arlessa, and her son a fine Arl after her."
The nomination carried, and the vote passed - not without dissention, but by a comfortable margin regardless. And Delilah Howe, once so happy to be shut of her father's evil ways and even of the title she once bore, was suddenly an Arlessa. The Wardens were granted living quarters at Vigil's Keep until other arrangements - Soldiers Peak or otherwise - could be made. Then the King's seneschal read off the kingdom's accounts: the numbers of new recruits, the total number of standing soldiers, ready horses, equipment, stored food, laborers, and recruited apostate mages. The last number was almost astronomical, and King Alistair's face split in a boyish grin of sheer delight at the stunned looks of the nobles. There were now enough apostate mages in the ranks of Ferelden soldiery to make up an army all their own. Word had spread far and wide that Ferelden was a land of opportunity, and not just for laborers. Entire Circles, having thrown off their Chantry shackles, had made their way into the country in hopes of finding freedom in service.
But then the seneschal read off the treasury accounts, and it was clear that in this area at least, the kingdom was in serious trouble. Gold was going out by the bushel but very little was coming back in. Elilia came to the rescue with what struck her as a very obvious solution.
"The Dragonbone Wastes," she said, and caught a number of blank stares. "The ancient dragon burial grounds, southwest of Amaranthine. There's a bloody fortune in dragon bone just laying there; send teams in to collect it, and sell it abroad at Kirkwall and Cumberland and Llomeryn and anywhere else a decent price could be had. But send soldiers, too. It's a dangerous place, which is why I suppose it hasn't been done before."
"It would have to be a help, at the least," Loghain said. "Ferelden needs to put some gold back in its coffers in a hurry or we're going to be caught with our pants down one fine day. We're almost self-sufficient, but there's still a lot of things we need to trade for. Lyrium for all those mages, for instance. Since the Chantry certainly isn't going to sell us any, we'll have to get it off the black market, and that won't be cheap."
Alistair brought the Landsmeet to a close shortly thereafter, himself rather than delegating it to Chancellor Eamon. He had one last piece of news to impart. "I've had word from…well, what you might call a Nevarran ambassador," he said, with a chuckle. "Nevarra has decided to assist the Orlesian peasantry in their young revolution against the Empress and her Chevaliers. I don't think I need tell you that this assistance is nothing but excellent news for Ferelden. When the Frostback passes thaw, if our strength is great enough - and once this threat of an Archdemon-maker is dealt with - it may be possible for us to take the battle to the enemy, rather than sit and wait for them to strike at us. The ambassador told me that the King of Nevarra greatly looks forward to the day when his generals and ours stand across the battlefield from each other and crush Orlais between us. I'm not certain Ferelden will ever be in condition to launch such an ambitious campaign, but I don't see why we can't take a sally at them here and there. Jader, I think, has been an Orlesian holding quite long enough, and I look forward to making it a Ferelden city."
Loghain chuckled. "Now you're talking my language, Your Majesty."
"How did a Nevarran ambassador make it to Ferelden unannounced?" Anora asked.
"Well, he's kind of a bird."
"A…bird?" The queen blinked at her husband uncertainly.
"A Crow, in point of fact." And Alistair laughed uproariously. A slim blond figure stepped out of the shadows near the dais.
"Cara mia, I am hurt - I come to Ferelden bearing grand news for your King, and discover that there is to be a wedding to which I have not received an invitation! My heart, it breaks from sorrow." And the Antivan assassin clapped a hand to his chest and bowed grandly before Elilia.
A/N: I realize I'm fudging the Amell origin a bit (or more than a bit). It was the only way the timelines worked out in my mind. It didn't exactly make sense to me to make his mother a relative, even a relatively close one, because it was hard to figure why a noble family would fall out of favor for having a mage child if it was a one-off situation (it doesn't make sense at all, really, since the de Launcet family didn't evidently suffer much for Emil).