The ride to Denerim is unremarkable beyond its length. You and the 'Bann of Whitecliffe' ride together on Orundómë, in order to make it there in a single day. He had brought a horse of his own, but it could not keep pace with the lord of horses. Despite the fact that you no longer have a small force of loyal warriors about you, the noble continues to act as though you were going to snap and murder him at any point. Which is ridiculous, on the roads there is far too high a chance of someone finding his body. If you were going to kill him, you would have done so in the forest where there were no witnesses. You are also not in the habit of wasting food on those you plan to murder. Informing him of this does not comfort him at all, you fail to feel remorse for that.

Denerim is a quintessentially human city. It is ugly, poorly planned and absolutely packed with people. Your eyes are drawn to the many elves begging by alleys or scurrying about stealing things. You had hoped that Merrill's words on the matter had been exaggerated, but they seem totally correct. None dare accost you, high on horseback and armed as you are. When you arrive at the castle you are asked to wait. To your complete surprise it seems that the Teyrn is busy. You would have thought that someone who has not been to his own territory in over a year would have plenty of time.

You put the time you have to good use, however. You consult a number of books on the law, especially the title of 'lord of X forest'. It turns out, according to the only book on the subject you could find, that it is a largely ceremonial title. Largely those with the title serve as the head game keeper for whoever gave the title to them. Given the lack of foresters bearing the Whitecliffe sigil, you suspect that the 'noble' has been derelict in this particular duty. Even if he had not been, there is no historical precedent for them collecting taxes. As far as you can tell, anyway, the law records are a complete mess.

After a period of time that somehow manages to be both too short and too long, you are led to the Teyrn. You had expected to be led to some kind of court, but you are shown into what is obviously some kind of study. The man you have come to see is behind a desk, and clearly has simply put down his work to talk to you. Teyrn Lohgaine is a sharp faced man with long dark hair. He wears heavy armour, and if his neck is anything to go by, is heavily muscled to boot.
"Well, out with it." He snaps when you enter. "What on earth was so important you felt the need to waste my time with it."

The noble immediately launches into an extended rant about your 'impertinence' and the 'gross injustice' you are attempting. You ignore his arguments, which are presented with all the grace and subtlety of Moryo at the height of his rage, and focus on the Teyrn. A single glance informs you that he is approximately as impressed by the fool by your side as you are. You are grateful for this since it means that the case will likely be decided on the strength of your argument, rather than the connection between lord and servant. You continue to study the Teyrn, trying to discern how best to persuade him.

Your first thought is to make a pragmatic argument. The expenses of enforcing the ruling on your small community would far exceed the costs of the forces necessary to do so. A glance at the man's armour dissuades you. He seems like the kind of person to whom military glory has inherent value. If he were an Eldar you would argue the moral stance. Taxes are owed to pay for the protection a noble provides, since nobody can effectively maintain soldiers without great expense. Since you do not enjoy that protection, you should not pay tax. Given that Teyrn Loghaine is a human, and his rapidly growing annoyance at the noble beside you, you decide against it. You will simply present the law as you understand it, given that it is the simplest solution, and thus requires the least from him, it should convince the Teyrn.

"And he had the gall to threaten me! I demand that he be thrown into the dungeons at once!" The noble finishes on at a pitch you usually only hear in song.
The Teyrn's scowl deepens still further, clearly not happy about his subordinate giving orders to him.
"I still do not see how this is my concern." He growls.
"Forgive me, Teyrn." You curse yourself for not researching the correct address for his rank. "I proposed speaking to you. With your permission I can explain the issue."
Rapidly losing patience the Teyrn hisses, "Get on with it."

"Approximately two days ago, Bann Bittershelf arrived unannounced in my dwelling. He used his rank to bully his way past my guards and upon meeting me immediately demanded 'back taxes' including a food rate of one hundred percent beyond an unspecified minimum." You deliver your argument as you would a military report, as much detail in as short a time as possible. "However, I do not believe he has the authority to collect such taxes. The title of 'lord of the forest' carries with it neither land rights nor a duty of taxation. It is an honorary title that mostly conveys certain hunting rights. As such I refused to pay, when he insisted, we had no recourse but to appeal to you to make a ruling on the law in question."

The Teyrn's lip curls upwards slightly as he takes his first proper look at you. "I see. I can find no flaw in that line of logic."
The Bann then makes a significant mistake. "You can't possibly take his side! He's a peasant! He threatened me!"
The flash of white hot rage in the Teyrn's eyes almost has you reflexively stepping back. To his credit he manages to keep it under control after a glare at the Bann.
"Do you have a response to this accusation." He forces out through gritted teeth.
"I do." You reply, resisting the urge to smirk. "When I refused to pay, the Bann stated that he would use force to collect if necessary. I did not threaten him, I simply pointed out that making threats when alone in a secluded location, surrounded by armed men loyal to the one you are threatening is a good way to disappear mysteriously."

The Teyrn barks out a short laugh. "As I said, a clear cut case."
"But…" The Bann attempts again.
"Shut up." Teyrn Loghaine hisses. "This entire thing is a waste of my time, you overreached and got burnt. Do not come whining to me about it. Get out of here!"
You incline your head and turn to leave when the Teyrn interrupts you.
"Not you. You stay." The human noble commands.
When the Bann has left he turns his glare to you. "How much food do you produce per year?"
You shrug. "I do not know, it has not yet been a year since my farm was created."
The armoured human pinches the bridge of his nose. "I am surrounded by complete morons. Get out."

Your business with the Teyrn is now finished. Unfortunately, your request to speak to him about another matter was denied out of hand. Thus, you had to go through the steps of making another appointment with his steward. You are told that he will next be available an hour or so from now, and you are quick to take that spot. With that done, you find yourself at something of a loss for what to do. You decide to return to the library to see if you can learn the laws of this land, just in case you need to deal with another noble pulling tax fraud.

You find that you have greatly underestimate the horrible state of disarray the legal record are in. They are not so much unified codices of law as they are a loose collection of proclamations and decisions by the various kings. You have to hunt through appendix after footnote, each pointing to a different legal decision until you finally find a book of actual laws, in Orlesian. Coutume de Orlais, 6:38 L'acier by someone call Charles la Rois. Wonderful, apparently all the laws of Ferelden are based on an Orlesian book that you cannot read. You might have been a little frustrated and raised your voice slightly but being firmly and politely escorted outside by the librarian and three guards was a bit much in your opinion.

With that avenue closed for now, and still the better part of an hour to go, you wander into the courtyard. A number of knights and men at arms are training. You decide to watch them. What you see is disappointing. You were not expecting them to meet the standards of the Noldor, but you had hoped they would match the men of Harad. As it is, these men are far too reliant on their armour. Many of them fight without a shield, but do not have the skill with footwork to cover for their loss of defence. In particular your eyes are drawn to a young man with long blonde hair, who is desperately trying to grow a beard. His feet in particular are practically glued to the ground, though his opponent is not taking advantage of it for some reason.

Perhaps you would have simply watched in silence until the time for you meeting arrived, were it not for a conversation between the young man and his partner.
"Come on Garan. One more round." He said cheerfully. "The darkspawn aren't going to let us rest mid fight."
The older knight had panted out. "Forgive me, I fear I do not have the stamina of an ogre."
"Nor do you have their size, but we must make do." The young man replied. "How am I meant to prepare to fight something twice my height and bulk if no one will spar with me."
"Any other way than what you have been doing!" You call out.

The entire field goes silent and near a hundred eyes turn to face you.
The young man's face contorts in anger. "What was that? Do you know who you are talking to?"
Not having the time to indulge the young noble's ego, you reply. "A dead man in waiting, if you plan to fight a troll the way you fought Garan there."
A number of men yell out at you for daring to speak in that manner, but to his credit the boy waves them off.
"What do you mean a troll?" He asks. "What is wrong with how I fight."
With a sigh you vault over the fence between the training area and the rest of the courtyard.
"I assume by Ogre you are referring to the large servants of Morgoth. Grey skinned, huge in height and width, approximately as intelligent as a stone." You ask to the boy's clear agreement. "Then you are too static."

The boy and his companions frown and you have to fight to prevent yourself from rolling your eyes. "You are fighting men, and steel plate will stop a weapon swung by a man. To that end, I assume you were taught to not move too much lest you exhaust yourself. It is an approach devoid of mastery, but a functional one against other men in armour. Trolls, however, do not care about armour. They can kill you by stepping on you, such is their might. If you wish to fight something of that strength, your only hope is to be mobile."
A few of the men call out jeers, but you ignore them.
The boy looks at you for a long moment.
"Show me." He says.
You gesture at him. "Take up your blade and try to hit me."

You proceed to run absolute circles around the heavy footed and slow moving noble. He cannot hit you, by the end of the five minute demonstration he is panting heavily, and you are barely sweating.
"As you can see, while it is still tiring, correct footwork will have you moving effectively even in armour." You inform the young man. "On a related note, you need to work on your stamina and economy of movement."
Panting he stares at you for another long moment.
"Teach me." He commands.
A glance at the sun tells you that you have maybe half an hour. "I can manage a short lesson I suppose."
No one in the training yard is laughing anymore.

You demonstrate footwork and supply drills for the young man to work on. Whenever the boy questions the effectiveness of the unnatural seeming movements, you have an anecdote to share about times it saved your life.
"Truly? You slew three Ogres?" The boy gasps.
"I slew no Ogres, my archers did. I merely kept them from reaching them. The large size and stony hides of trolls makes it hard to slay them with a sword." You correct.
"That's amazing. I thought only Dwarves and Grey Wardens fought darkspawn. Are you a Grey Warden?" The boy asks, his expression deliberately innocent.
You shake your head. "Merely an enemy of darkness in all its forms. Besides my fight was far from here, closer to my homeland."
Your words seem to cause the boy to relax significantly. "You're not from here? That explains a lot. I'm Cailan."
"Nelyafinwë. Now stop trying to distract me and get back to your drills." You instruct to the child's amusement.

You become so absorbed by your instruction that you nearly miss your appointment.
"Forgive me Cailan, but I have an appointment to attend." You inform the student.
The boy seems disappointed. "Really? What are you here for?"
You shrug. "I had hoped to convince Teyrn Loghaine to name me as lord of Brecilian Forest. Given that I am the only person with a military force in the area who will not be slain on sight by the Dalish, it seems logical to me. Especially given how the current lord has not been seen in it, save to attempt to swindle me of my hard earned goods."

Your words amuse the young man, making you suspect he has some relationship to the Teyrn. "Is that so? Do you want me to speak to him about it?"
You shake your head. "The matter was brought to the Teyrn for judgment, and he has ruled on the subject. Regardless of my feelings on it, the law must be respected on the matter."
Cailan considers for several long moments.
"The title of lord of the forest is largely an honorary one, isn't it?" He turns to his companions for confirmation, which he gets. "Why do you want it so badly?"
"Well in part to see if I can convince him to give it to me, it is an exercise in persuasion. It would also benefit me to be legally a lord, given that I am currently assisting in the creation of a small community in the forest."
Cailan's interest is clearly piqued. "I'll take you to Loghaine. Tell me more about this community as we walk."

You tell him of your time in this world, of the hospitality of the Dalish and how you have been trying to grow a community of people in the forest. Cailan is an excellent listener and is very interested in your tale.
"So you don't pay any taxes?" He asks.
You shrug. "Who should I pay tax to? Nobody guards the forest, save perhaps the Dalish."
"True. Besides that village is barely getting by and the Dalish aren't taxable." Cailan muses as you arrive at the Teyrn's office. "Wait here a minute. I'll have a quick chat with him."
You wait outside the door listening to the conversation within. As you suspected the two men are clearly quite close. They are discussing what you told Cailan. Finally, you are invited in.

"I have to admit, I had thought it would be harder to convince Loghaine to give you something, but he seemed pretty agreeable." Cailan informs you, after extending the offer of making you 'Warden of Brecilian Forest'.
"I still say we should make him Bann of Whitecliffe and spare us all some trouble." The Teyrn replies.
"You know why we can't do that Loghaine. The other Banns would never stand for it, not to mention the people of Whitecliffe." Cailan replies.
You mentally adjust your assumed rank for Cailan up several notches while you consider the offer. It is certainly tempting; a noble title and technical ownership of the forest could be very useful. You would prefer not to be so heavily scrutinised though, nor do you wish to be the King's taxelf.

"I am honoured by this offer." You begin, striving to keep your tone respectful. "It is more than I had dared hope for. However, I do not think this particular title will work well for me."
Teyrn Loghaine's eyes narrow in suspicion. Cailan on the other hand, keeps his expression pleasant.
Tilting his head slightly he asks lightly, "Why is that?"
"I travel extensively, both within this realm and beyond. I do not necessarily know how long I will be in Ferelden. Having a tittle like this, with all its attendant duties, would make it very difficult to return home at a later date, or depart for other parts. I was hoping for a largely ceremonial title that would simply prevent any unpleasantness with Whitecliffe in future." You explain.

"It sounds to me like you want all the advantages of a title with none of the responsibilities." Loghaine accuses levelly.
"I can certainly see why you would think that, but please try to understand my position. I have a need for the legal protection of a title, but I need the freedom of action to return home when it is time." You argue in the same level tone.
"Enough." Cailan commands before Loghaine can respond. "While I would prefer you to take the title I have offered, I am willing to hear your argument otherwise. You did say you intended this to be an exercise in diplomacy after all."

You take a deep breath and consider both what you want and what the best argument to get it would be. What you want is to legally be a noble, but not be under the direct command or scrutiny of any of the human rulers about you. The best argument for that, ironically is one you have already used.
"The simple fact is that I live in an area that is beyond the authority of any lord in specific. As a result, I am essentially at the mercy of whichever noble I speak to. Normally not the kind of thing that should concern you, but since my arrival Brecilian has begun to develop a true community. At least one village has begun to grow there, and the Dalish inhabitants have been making an effort to live alongside the humans in peace. I need a noble title to prevent those around me from disrupting the community, but it cannot be one that will make the Dalish suspect that I am a human pawn." You argue.

Loghaine scoffs. "That is why you want it, not why we should give you such a title."
Cailan does not speak up either, but you were not finished.
"True enough." You acknowledge. "But you do want the Dalish pacified. They are a nightmare to fight in the forest, especially given its hostile environment. I am already doing that, integrating them with human villages. Further I am also helping to make the forest itself less dangerous. This is why you want to make me a noble at all, I assume. I need a noble title to do so effectively, but if I am forced to choose between acting without a title and having a title that will prevent me from returning to my family, I will choose the former. My family is more important to me than your entire kingdom."

There is a moment of silence as you finish speaking. Finally, Cailan breaks the silence.
"I am satisfied with that argument. Do you have any further concerns Loghaine?"
The Teyrn sighs and reaches for a pen. "I can't argue with it. A damn shame, it'd have been good to have a real soldier to keep my Banns in check."
Cailan smiles. "Excellent. Then as king of Ferelden I hereby confer the title of Lord of the Forest upon Lord Nelyafinwë. This title carries with it all the legal protections of nobility but does not confer any land or holdings to him."
He then reads over what Loghaine has written and affixes his seal to it. "Congratulations. Show this to anyone who doubts your title." He says, handing the scroll to you and shaking your hand.
You stare at him. "You are the king?"
The king laughs. "Surprise!"

You spend some time thanking the two men and ensuring that there are no hard feelings from the argument. You depart with much to think on. You were surprised to discover that Cailan was king, for he had none of the metaphysical weight that the title had carried back in Arda. To your senses he seemed no different from any other human, unlike back home where royalty was a cut above others of their kind. It was the reason they were kings. You mull these thoughts over, and what it might mean, as you head to the library to discover what exactly the legal protections of a noble are.

As it turns out, they are significant. Apparently, this kingdom has a great deal of decentralisation. As a noble, you cannot be arrested by the king or a higher noble without due cause. Based on the case law you can find, assuming you are reading the chaotic mess of decisions correct, that is pretty much just undisputed proof of treason. You are also exempt from most monetary tax, including property tax. So Endataurëo will never be taxed, though it would not apply to Gladesville. There is also an interesting old law about your right to kill those who are not nobles without reprisal. There are more, but most are meaningless to you, like the exemption from laws about the 'kings forests'.

The blacksmith students have started to make use of the great forges that you had included. That you had them at all was planned, but the specific details were a result of making allowances for your brother's and father's standards. As a result, they are both vast and containing many things that most smiths simply do without. It means that all ten of your smiths can get to work on maintaining your warriors' armour. As a result, your weekly costs are down significantly. Even with the rise in wages you are likely to be spending less money every week. You even are still making a net gain of food. As the merchants arrive for the week, you smile pleased to see your preparation paying off.

You decided against selling anything. Given the complexities of this week's political changes you thin it would be best if you simply built up a reserve for now. Faith oversees putting everything in storage. You spend the time you want to be overseeing the storage process helping the herdsmen deal with the sheep. As it turns out the war dogs have been harassing them and you end up needing to calm down every living thing involved, humans included. As a result, you nearly miss out on this week's load of wool, but some quick thinking from Fansis sees you avoid that fate.

These events conspire to keep your few moments of free time filled with constant work. You actually miss the departure of the merchants early in the week due in no small part to having to deal with a certain 'noble'. You are fortunately back in your base in time for the second arrival of the merchants and thus can spend some time browsing their wares. You notice a few of your new arrivals spending some of their own money on clothes and shoes and make a mental note to get another tailor and cobbler before that starts to become a problem.

While you are browsing the merchant's wares, you notice several of your blacksmith recruits standing around talking. You decide to wander over and have a quick word with them.
"Greeting gentlemen. What are you 'up to'." Your question causes them to start guiltily.
"Boss!" One of them yelps. "We're not slackin', I promise."
The man's companions begin to hiss reprimands and strike him with their elbows for his words.
You ignore all of them. "Then what are you doing? Do you not have work?"
The man shoves some of the more aggressive critics aside and replies, "No sir. There isn't enough work for all of us to do right now. If we don't have lessons we've got nothin' to do."
You nod. "Very well. I suppose it falls to me to give you a task then."
You once again ignore the groans and complaints of the man's companions.

"Perhaps it would be best if you were to relieve your companions of part of their burden for the week." You suggest to the idle smiths.
There is some discontent among them, but ultimately, they seem to accept that it is fair enough.
You smile when they start talking about their extra time and deliver the part you know they will hate. "Of course, with half the workload it is only to be expected that you use the extra time to attend extra lessons."
There is some groaning and complaining in response to that, but you bear it with the patience of long experience.
"The sooner you complete your lessons the sooner you will be able to relax. Would you rather have your pay halved?" Talking to humans is very much like talking to children you find.
The smiths trudge off to their new tasks.

You return to your next task, that of giving Martin the request of armour. You had hoped that you would be able to buy from local merchants this week, but armour is just a bit too hard to come by in the local area. Martin will have to include your order of five suits of light armour in his weekly run to sell wine to your more distant customers. You decide to only gather five sets for now, both to save on cost and to ensure that Martin can carry the load back. It seems that next week your blacksmiths are going to have more than enough to do. You shrug as Martin departs, the extra training was nice while it lasted.

When you have finally dealt with the noble you immediately set about inspecting what has transpired in your absence. You note Merrill's new clothing and that all the items you had expected purchased are present. You discuss the production from the vineyard and the farms with Faith and the senior workers. Finally, after nearly an hour of making sure that nothing has gone catastrophically wrong in your absence, you are able to turn your attention to something you have been meaning to do for some time. You had decided to make another orchard for your base two weeks ago, but the soil quality had delayed the making of said orchard. Now the field has been composting for two weeks and is ready to take the fruit trees that you have been growing.

You had been about to head out to acquire the workers necessary to man the field when Faith, your steward, had stopped you.
"Sorry to disturb you sir." She said, "But I was wondering if you were still planning on making an orchard?"
"I was yes. Why do you ask?" You replied.
She shifted awkwardly. "It's not that we can't use the food or don't need it. I mean you just brought twenty new people here. I just think it might be worth making sure that it's what you want. Things have changed. You're trying to create a retinue and I know armour is expensive so perhaps having more money wouldn't be a bad thing."
You would normally simply say that you will think about it, but the poor girl seems so nervous you decide to be more encouraging. "That is something worth thinking about. Thank you for bringing it to my attention."

You send the girl on her way and turn your thoughts inward. Do you want to grow more food? There are good arguments for it. It is needed in the local area and with the growth of your personnel there are more mouths to feed then ever. On the other hand, it costs a lot of money to outfit a warrior, and you are going to need more weavers, cobblers and clothes makers before too long. In truth you need both more money and more food. Perhaps you should simply make this a challenge for yourself and try to make two fields at once.

Your plans for the field had been disturbed by having to ride for two more days to travel to Denerim. You want to stretch your time out to make two fields simultaneously, but you have very little time. As a result, you end up working on your plan in snatches of time between other tasks or just before falling asleep. It is hardly the best time to be working on something, but you see little choice in the matter. After you return from Denerim you throw yourself into completing the plan, determined that it will be done before sunrise.

Apparently, you do your best work when you are under immense pressure. When you finally have a completed plan, you stagger tiredly into the room with Faith, Wesley and other senior laborers.
"Alright everyone, listen up!" You state clearly. "We have very little time, but if everyone sticks exactly to the plan, we should succeed. Remember we need to be as regular as the Trees' flowering if we want to pull this off."
The group stares at you, their faces blank and uncomprehending. To your eternal embarrassment, it takes you several moments to realise you have given your speech entirely in Quenya. Perhaps you have skipped a few too many hours of sleep in your determination to finish this plan.

You cough once and repeat yourself in Thedaslta. You even remember to change the comment about the Trees into one about the sun. This time everyone is sceptical, which is an improvement over a complete lack of understanding. To your immense surprise, even with you nearly falling asleep during the work, nobody delays or slows down. When you collapse into bed straight after dinner you know for a fact that you have enough land prepared to have two fields ready to go. Before you depart the next day, much more alert with a proper night's sleep, you decide what you are going to be growing in the other field. You have already committed to having one orchard, do you really need two?

If you had to tell someone about the decision, you would have to say that the decision of what to do with your extra field was a hard one. You do not, and nobody who is not in your head can tell that it was a nearly even split. As it was you decided on the ride, after much debate, that having more money was more important. Especially given that you are gaining more warriors, who are expensive to equip and maintain. You could also hire more blacksmiths for that, but that requires time. You could have presented compelling arguments for either side, but a choice had to be made and you chose wine.

Lannerch is exactly as you expected it to be. People milling about, enjoying the summer sun while it lasts. Though Autumn has yet to arrive, it is getting closer every day, with the summer equinox behind you. The days are starting to get shorter, and people are looking to the future harvest nervously. Given the harsh food taxes in the region, you cannot blame them. You ride to the job board and pin your notice among a few others. Then you take the time to wander around the square talking to people. You do not always find people looking for work you can persuade, but you still consider it worth the time that doing so takes.

You get the response that you are slowly beginning to expect. A number of people, mostly ones or twos at first, come to speak to you. You have to turn down a number of temporary labourers and iterant workers. It is not in your interests to have people working for a short time and then leaving. You manage to pick up two families, rather small ones, that are looking for a new start. As you leave to check your other notice in Brynwich you manage to pick up one or two more people who are looking for a place to live. Something about housing prices apparently.

Brynwich supplies the remainder of the people you need to man your farms. You take the time it takes to return home to decide who will be working where. Younger children are directed to the food farm, both because it is more familiar and because it lacks any heavy machinery, they could hurt themselves with. The rest become your new vintners. After you arrive in Endataurëo all that remains is ensuring that the wine press does not get fought over by the two sets of workers. It proves to be large enough for both groups to use, so you almost feel silly for worrying about it.