Talks With A Traitor

The candlelight in Loghain's chambers flickered as a faint draft moved through the room. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and ink, the quiet hum of the fire offering the only reprieve from the silence. Loghain sat at his desk, his sharp gaze fixed on the maps and documents spread before him. Markings denoted troop movements, supply lines, and key strongholds, all meticulously annotated in his precise hand.

Yet his mind was elsewhere.

The reports of Fergus Cousland's return, and the rumors of the proof he carried against Howe, weighed heavily on him. The New Nightelves had confirmed Fergus's arrival in Redcliffe, his alliance with Eamon all but certain. If Fergus indeed possessed evidence of Howe's treachery, it was a knife poised at the throat of their already fragile cause.

And then there was Howe himself.

Loghain's lips pressed into a thin line as he considered the man. Howe's ambitions had always been an open secret, but his recent actions had crossed a line. The assassination attempt, the murder of Arl Kendells, the elf trade—all of it pointed to a man who would stop at nothing to secure his own power.

But today, Loghain would not tip his hand. Not yet.

A sharp knock at the door broke the silence. Loghain didn't look up from his maps. "Enter."

The heavy door creaked open, and Ser Cauthrien stepped inside, her imposing frame outlined by the glow of the hallway's torches. "Arl Howe has arrived, my lord," she announced. Her voice was steady, but there was a faint edge to it, a tension she rarely displayed.

Loghain finally looked up, meeting her gaze. He gave a curt nod. "Send him in."

Cauthrien hesitated for a moment, then added quietly, "Shall I remain?"

Loghain considered her offer. Her presence would undoubtedly unsettle Howe, but it would also reveal that he no longer trusted the man. For now, subtlety was his weapon.

"No," he said evenly. "Wait outside. I'll call for you if I need you."

Cauthrien inclined her head and stepped back into the hallway. Moments later, Rendon Howe entered the room.

Howe moved with his usual air of self-assuredness, his sharp features twisted into a faint smirk. He was dressed impeccably, as always, his dark attire a stark contrast to the simpler decor of the room.

"Ah, Teyrn Loghain," Howe said smoothly, spreading his arms in a gesture of greeting. "To what do I owe the honor of this summons? I assumed you'd be busy preparing for the Landsmeet."

Loghain leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on the armrests as he regarded Howe with cold detachment. "The Landsmeet is precisely why I've called you here," he replied, his tone measured.

Howe raised a brow, stepping further into the room. "Oh? And how might I assist in ensuring our... mutual goals are met?"

Loghain gestured toward a chair opposite his desk. "Sit."

Howe hesitated for a fraction of a second, but he complied, lowering himself into the chair with practiced ease. His smirk remained, though his eyes darted briefly to the maps on the desk, trying to glean any hint of Loghain's thoughts.

"You've heard the reports from Redcliffe," Loghain began, his voice calm but with an undertone of steel. "Fergus Cousland has returned. And he claims to have evidence—evidence of your involvement in the fall of Highever."

The smirk faltered, just slightly, before Howe recovered. "Fergus Cousland," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "That boy has always been quick to blame others for his misfortunes. I can only imagine the wild tales he's spinning now that he's found himself in Eamon's camp."

Loghain's expression didn't waver. "And what of the claims themselves? Did you betray the Couslands, Rendon?"

Howe leaned back, his fingers steepled. "Of course not," he said smoothly. "You know as well as I do that Highever fell because of internal dissent. Bryce Cousland's loyalties were... divided. He was too ambitious, too reckless. His fate was of his own making."

Loghain said nothing, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. The silence stretched, filling the room like a heavy fog.

Howe shifted in his chair, his smirk faltering again. "Teyrn, surely you don't lend credence to the accusations of a grieving boy. Fergus Cousland seeks to stir unrest, nothing more."

"Perhaps," Loghain said finally, his tone as unreadable as his expression. "But Fergus isn't acting alone. Eamon supports him, and Redcliffe's forces grow stronger by the day. If Fergus has evidence, it could sway the Bannorn further against us."

Howe leaned forward, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "Then we must discredit him, my lord. His claims cannot be allowed to gain traction. If need be, I can ensure that he—"

"Enough," Loghain interrupted, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

He rose slowly from his chair, his imposing presence filling the room. He moved around the desk with deliberate precision, his gaze fixed on Howe, sharp and unrelenting. His boots made no sound against the stone floor, but the weight of his authority pressed against the walls of the chamber like a storm about to break.

When he stopped directly in front of Howe, the Arl's smirk faltered again, his fingers tightening against the armrests of the chair.

"You'll do nothing," Loghain said, his voice low but razor-sharp.

Howe blinked, clearly caught off guard. "I—"

"No schemes. No assassins. No attempts to discredit Fergus or Eamon. None of it," Loghain continued, cutting through Howe's attempt to speak. He leaned in slightly, his cold blue eyes boring into the man. "You will let this play out."

"Teyrn Loghain," Howe began, feigning a tone of injured loyalty, "surely you don't believe I would act without your leave. My only concern is—"

"Enough with the lies, Rendon," Loghain snapped, his voice dropping to a growl. "I am not a fool, and I will not tolerate games when the future of Ferelden hangs in the balance."

Howe's mouth opened, then closed again as he struggled to mask the irritation flickering across his features. His mask of loyalty, however polished, was beginning to crack.

"I have a plan for the Landsmeet," Loghain continued, his tone softer now, but no less commanding. He straightened to his full height, his hands clasped behind his back as he began to pace slowly. "It doesn't matter what Fergus Cousland brings, or what Eamon hopes to achieve. I will see to it that the Bannorn supports the Crown, and that Ferelden remains strong—under our rule."

He stopped pacing and turned back to Howe, his piercing gaze pinning him to the chair. "But I will not have you jeopardizing my efforts with your... excesses. No more assassins. No more mercenaries. No more schemes. You will sit still and do exactly as you are told."

Howe's smirk reappeared, faint but defiant. "And what would you have me do, my lord? Stand idly by while the Bannorn conspires against us? While Fergus Cousland poisons their minds with falsehoods?"

"Yes," Loghain said bluntly. His tone left no room for argument. "You will do nothing. You will leave the Bannorn to me. Do you understand?"

Howe hesitated, his fingers drumming against the armrest as his sharp mind raced to assess the situation. Finally, he inclined his head, though the gesture was begrudging. "As you wish, Teyrn. If you have a plan, then I will abide by it."

"I'll hold you to that," Loghain said, his voice cold and final. He leaned in once more, his presence looming. "But hear me, Rendon. If I so much as hear a whisper of your interference, you will find that my patience has limits."

Howe swallowed hard, but his smirk remained fixed in place, a thin veneer of confidence stretched over the unease that gleamed in his eyes. "I am, as always, your loyal servant."

"See that you remain so," Loghain replied curtly.

He gestured toward the door, signaling the end of the conversation. Howe rose from the chair, offering another shallow bow before turning on his heel and leaving the room, his movements stiffer than usual.

Cauthrien Reenters

The door closed behind Howe, and moments later, Ser Cauthrien stepped into the room. Her sharp blue eyes sought Loghain's, her expression one of quiet vigilance. "Howe?" she asked simply.

Loghain exhaled, his hands resting on the edge of his desk as he stared down at the maps. "He won't act. Not openly, at least."

Cauthrien's brow furrowed. "Do you trust him?"

"No," Loghain replied flatly. "But I don't need to. His ambition will keep him cautious—for now."

"And tonight?" Cauthrien asked, lowering her voice.

Loghain glanced up, his expression unreadable. "Tonight, Tallion claims he has answers. I'll meet with him, and if his information is as damning as he promises, we'll have what we need to deal with Howe. Permanently."

Cauthrien nodded, her jaw tightening. "I'll ensure no one follows you."

Loghain gave her a faint, approving nod before turning back to the maps. His gaze lingered on the lines of the Bannorn, each mark representing a lord or lady whose loyalty hung in the balance.

For now, Howe's leash was tight. But by the time the Landsmeet came, Loghain intended to have the noose ready.