Going to announce a short hiatus of a week or so while I spend some time with friends.
A Quiet Get Together
Teyrn Loghaine is not someone you are especially pleased with at the moment. Few people appreciate being ambushed as is, and for reasons that are a matter of historical record, you are even less fond of it. That he traded away your message of unity and depth of experience with the foe to come for political points is, to put it mildly, infuriating.
The harsh exhale from your nose might have been called a sigh or a snarl. It has elements of both.
In truth, were any of your brothers here they would clamour for his head. Moryo and Turko would call you a fool for heeding him now, Kurvo would warn how it would look like you were begging for his attention and weaken your position. Kano would probably grumble under his breath about stubborn older brother and the twins would propose pranks to humiliate the Teyrn publicly.
Oh dear. It seems something has gotten into your eye.
However, you are still going to go meet with the Teyrn. Regardless of your personal feelings, it is obvious that he is an important lynchpin of the resistance to preparing for the Blight, so you must try to persuade him. At least this time your attempts to reach out to a political foe will not be ended by Moryo throwing a chair at them.
Now all you have to do is resist the urge to do so yourself.
Denerim passes by in a grey blur. Several mercenaries with silver moths stitched on their shirts wander the streets, so it is good to see that Maeglin is doing something. The gate guards of the castle give you no particular trouble, indeed they are even beginning to recognise you.
Loghaine meets you in the same dining room you had shared with the king and the queen.
"You came. Good." He says stiffly. "I am glad that you are willing to… well I'm glad you came."
"I was most grateful to receive an invitation from one so esteemed as yourself." You reply, with perfect politeness.
Loghaine's face twitches and he gestures towards the table. "I invited my daughter, but she had a prior engagement, so she will not be coming."
You keep your face blank, even as inside you are annoyed. Was this meeting meant to be a bribe? Does Loghaine hold your honour so cheap?
"A shame, but unavoidable." You say instead of anything you mean. "I am sure that your company will more than make up for her absence."
Loghaine scowls, then smashes a fist into the table. "Hang this polite talk. Speaking plainly, Arl Howe did not have my support in what he said."
You give the human a cool look. "Your words say one thing yet your words another."
"Stop dancing around the issue. Speak plainly." The Teyrn barks.
"Very well, in the most straightforward terms, Arl Howe is a snake. Yet, at a moment of uttermost importance, you chose to support him. Not merely supporting him rather than myself, but at my expense."
"Yes, but you must understand, I have limited resources. Orlesian chevaliers prowl our borders and the king speaks of stripping all our defences. It is not that I support Arl Howe rather than you, but rather that Orlais is a more pressing concern than the Blight." Teyrn Loghaine states.
"Have you considered that Orlais might be attempting to ride to your aid?" You ask flatly. "Or that the literal end of all life as you know it might be more pressing than who owns which piece of land?"
"They are not." Loghaine proclaims. "They smell our weakness and seek to take advantage. It is only a handful of decades since they once claimed all Ferelden, they would not waste this chance to have it again!"
"What part of 'the end of all life as we know it' is not communicating itself to you?" You ask incredulously. "This is not the time for petty rivalries. We must put aside our grudges and enmities and stand together or we are all lost!"
"That is easy for you to say!" Loghaine snarls back. "You did not see their predations, nor men fighting unarmed against chevaliers!"
"No." You say, voice deadly quiet. "All I have done is held my best friend's lifeless corpse, surrounded by all the fallen host of Hithlum and wept bitter tears for the betrayal of humans."
Loghaine draws back as though struck, but quickly rallies. "Humans are not a monolith; we are not those who betrayed you.
"Strange how your tune changes when you speak of your people rather than mine." You note calmly.
"This has nothing to do with the elves." Loghaine growls.
You take a long deep breath, then release it.
"Very well, then let us discuss humans." You reply. "You are, of course, correct that you cannot trust Orlais. They are human after all, and humans are inherently untrustworthy. Their word means nothing, and they will betray you at the slightest chance it might benefit them.
"I see what you're doing." Loghaine says, glaring at you. "I told you this has nothing to do with elves."
"I said nothing of humans, and quite to the contrary of your expectations, I am not making a point about how humans treat elves." You retort. "Is your claim about Orlesians not based on that very logic?"
"It is not." Loghaine states firmly. "It is based on my experiences with the Orlesians. Based on the fact that it was not thirty years ago that they held all of Ferelden in bondage, and tortured and killed anyone who opposed them. It is the height of naivete to believe they will not return."
"If you truly believed that, you would be doing all you could to prevent them from doing so." You reply. "Not stripping defences from elsewhere to prepare for when they do."
"My requests for a pre-emptive strike have been vetoed by the king." Loghaine snarls. "So preparing for the invasion is inevitable."
For several long seconds you are stunned into silence. Even your brothers were not this foolish. For all the evil done in the name of their own power, Turko and Kurvo had legitimate interests in securing a connection to Thingol and control over Nagothrond.
Your attack on Doriath was a desperate gamble at the utmost end of hope, not a pre prepared plan. Even your father was not mad enough to believe he could win a two front war against Morgoth.
"You cannot possibly believe that will work." You say at last. "There is no world in which half of your army can defeat Orlais while the other half deals with the Blight. It is madness."
"Do not insult me." Loghaine barks. "I don't think anything of the sort. But we must concentrate our forces on the greater threat! Small garrisons can hold the Blight at bay while we deal with Orlais, then the Blight can be defeated easily by our whole army."
"Orlais is the greater threat?" You ask in utter disbelief.
"Obviously." Loghaine says. "The Fourth Blight was shattered and destroyed utterly. The Blight has not returned since the Exalted Age. A defeat that takes four hundred years to recover from cannot have left them in much of a state to fight. Orlais was here thirty years ago, and it was a hard won victory."
Sheer incredulity nearly makes you burst out with many different unhelpful exclamations. What you have heard makes grammatical sense but seems to be entirely absent of any logic. In what universe is a foe that has had four hundred years to prepare less dangerous than one that has thirty?
Instead of any of those, instead you ask a simple question. "Do you believe the Blight is made of humans?"
Loghaine gives you a look so filled with contempt, the Vanyar would adopt him if they saw it. "Of course not."
"So why are you applying human logic to their extended absence?" You ask.
"It is not 'human' logic, it is logic plain and simple." Loghaine replies contemptuously.
In order for this to work you are going to need to establish a chain of logic. "Blights are led by Archdemons, who are dragons corrupted in the same manner as all the darkspawn are, correct?"
"Something like that unless you believe the outlandish theories about them being gods." Loghaine scoffs. "Assuming the Grey Wardens speak truly."
"I am inclined to believe them on the matter. There must have been a reason that all peoples of the earth agreed to establish them and returned to them through every single Blight." You point out, unwilling to let the argument rest on shaky foundations.
Loghaine frowns in thought. "I suppose keeping accurate records is something they would need to do out of necessity…"
"Excellent, then, and once again correct me if I am wrong, but do dragons not live functionally indefinitely?" You ask.
Glaurung had lived most of the First Age, and while it is possible that it was a dwarf situation where they live a long time but not forever, you do not credit Morgoth with Aulë's craftsmanship. You are amazed whenever his creations do not collapse under the weight of their own foul existence.
"I don't know about indefinitely, but I'll grant they live a long time." Loghaine admits begrudgingly. "At least according to the stories."
"So, which do you believe is more likely? That the Dwarven Kingdoms have enjoyed an unprecedented resurgence in power with the loss of most of the darkspawn four hundred years ago and no one has found out. Or, the functionally immortal leader of the darkspawn has laid in wait four hundred years, building forces and chipping away at humanities defences to ensure they will not be defeated so convincingly once more?" You mime weighing the two options in each hand.
Loghaine does not reply. His frown deepens in thought and still he does not speak. Eventually, you take up the thread of your argument once more.
"The Blight will not spare anyone." You say quietly, leaning closer to Loghaine's height. "They will kill men, women and children. There will be no resistance against them. They have no supply lines to cut, no reason not to simply walk around fortresses and castles, unless those fortresses are bastions from which strong forces can strike out."
Loghaine still says nothing and you continue, "The Blight is not named such by accident. Their every step kills the land they seize. They will blight the crops and salt the fields with their poisoned blood. If you draw warriors away from that fight, you will weaken yourself forever. Why should Orlais invade, when they can just wait until you are brought to your knees by the Blight and walk in?"
"Enough." Loghaine says, quietly. "You've made your point. The only question is, what do you want?"
"To not be killed by the darkspawn, or worse captured." You reply honestly. "The screams from Angband still haunt my sleep some nights."
Loghaine snorts. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. What's your grand plan? Many people would kill to have the ear of someone as highly positioned as me, and you've gone a fair bit further than them. So let's hear it. What's your angle?"
"I would have thought not wanting to die a horrible death, or worse, would be a perfectly understandable 'angle'." You reply glibly. "However, if you are asking what path I would recommend charting, I fully believe that the best option is to find every ally you can possibly manage."
"That's it?" Loghaine asks, with a single raised eyebrow.
"I would hardly argue it is a simple task." You state. "Having attempted it myself, I assure you it is a difficult, frustrating road where you will often wonder if you are the only person aware that it is the lives of all the free at stake."
"I will not ally with Orlais." Loghaine growls.
"I believe that to be a mistake, but I am not advocating for that path specifically." You reassure the human. "If you cannot, for whatever reason, ally with one group you must seek others."
"Who else is there?" Loghaine snorts dismissively. "The Free Marches? Don't be ridiculous."
"Well, I would make the attempt, even if you believe it doomed. You might be surprised what people will do when the hour is desperate. Even Gondolin broke its isolation when they believed the hour was at hand." You point out.
"Yes and I suppose something is better than nothing, however little it is." Loghaine grumbles.
"I would reach out to any and all human powers you can." You continue, ignoring his complaining. "They will be easiest, the shared humanity of both parties smoothing more than you think. Yet, I would not neglect others."
"Who?" Loghaine asks derisively.
"The dwarves. The Dalish." You list, counting them off on your fingers. "I met a group called the Qunari who are concerned by the Blight, if you have channels with them, I would make use of them. Perhaps the Chantry might be able to put word among their allies? Call upon the mages and the Templars of other lands?"
"We already have the Circle on side." Loghaine says. "As for the others? The dwarves won't come to the surface, the Qunari speak to no one and the Dalish? What can the Dalish do?"
"The darkspawn have not vacated the tunnels entirely." You remind the human. "Even if they had, that would leave the dwarves free to retake much of their empire, hopefully creating a second front beneath the earth. The Dalish would bring scouts second to none, as well as experienced guerilla fighters. Not to mention that every clan has a mage."
Loghaine is silent for a stretch, then he sighs. "Even if that is so, there is no way we could reach them in time. We will sally forth to face the darkspawn come spring."
"That is what, two months hence?" You ask.
"Seven weeks, more or less." Loghaine grunts. "Most of that time we're going to be actually mustering, so not much chance to go anywhere."
"I see, do you not have access to the communication stones of the Circles?" You ask.
Loghaine's head snaps up, eyes focused in a way they had not been until now. "The what?"
"I do not know the details and have only heard tales from a single apostate." You caution before you explain, "However, I have heard that the Circles have communication stones that enable them to speak at great distances. I myself have used similar devices, so I know they are possible, but I may be wrong about their abilities."
"That would, change things." Loghaine admits. "I will have to make enquiries."
"As for the other groups, seven weeks may not be enough time to go in person, especially as you will be mustering. However, you could send representatives." You continue. "They would need to be trusted and empowered to make treaties. Then they could bring the armies straight to you."
"No. It's too much of a risk." Loghaine states.
"You mean to tell me, Teyrn Logahine." You say, tone incredulous. "That in all Ferelden, despite ruling for twenty years or more, there is not a single individual you can trust to speak for you, to carry your words where you cannot?"
Loghaine says nothing.
"You have no heralds?" You ask, disbelief mounting. "No allies? No family who would die before they betray you? Not one single person you could send?"
"Arl Howe." Loghaine says hesitantly.
"Arl Howe is a snake!" You snap. "I would trust him as far as I could throw him armed and armoured!"
"This has nothing to do with your personal enmity with him." Logahine replies harshly.
"It is not enmity that drives me to speak so." You retort. "I have seen his kind before. Arl Howe is loyal to Arl Howe and none other. While some might say that makes him predictable, I am trying to be less arrogant these days."
Loghaine's lips twitch slightly, then he sighs. "I take your point. I'll look into our options. You have, my thanks, for what you have spoken of."
You shrug. "If you wish to repay me, I would greatly appreciate surviving the Blight with my friends alive and body intact."
Loghaine barks a short, vicious, laugh. "True enough. Now. We have delayed dinner long enough, and I am hungry."
Selling
Delora makes her way to the boss' office. Truth be told she's a little nervous. Part of it is a fear that she's getting fired or replaced or whatever, wouldn't be the first time an elf got quietly moved off a job for being even the slightest bit inconvenient. Most of it's just fear of meeting the boss though. She doesn't really think he's the type.
She knocks on the door and is told to enter. The boss is writing something, a letter she guesses. The moment he sees her he puts his pen down and gestures to a seat.
"Delora. Excellent, please take a seat." He says pleasantly.
The elf licks her lips as she settles down in the slightly too tall chair. Across from her the boss shifts the letter he was writing to the side and clasps his hands atop the desk.
"I must begin this meeting by offering you an apology." He says heavily. "I should have guessed that Maeglin would seek out information on my workings and ensured your safety."
Delora splutters. "No… I mean, I was fine. We were in the middle of Denerim he wouldn't have killed me… Would he?"
"It was unlikely." The boss says gravely. "Yet, even if you were in no danger the weight of an Elda's attention is a heavy thing. Even that of a Moriquendi. It matters little, you have suffered where I might have spared you and for that I apologise."
Delora stares at her hands, not sure how to respond.
"Apologies aside, I wish to assure you that you need not fear Maeglin. Not within my halls." The boss continues. "He is mighty yes, but not yet grown so mighty as to challenge me. Should you wish me to I will accompany you into Denerim and speak to him. Equally, if you wish to avoid the city in future you may do so."
"I just want to forget about it. I'm fine. I don't need any help." The elf mutters quietly.
Silence stretches out for a few moments, then the boss says, "If that is your wish. If I may advise you, there is no shame in fear, nor weakness in avoiding that which may harm you. If nothing else, I advise you speak of the matter with one you trust. It will help. Trust me."
Delora nods. More is said, but she is soon leaving to go about her weak.
Delora doesn't know what to think anymore. The boss calling her in for a talk had been nerve wracking. She hadn't been expecting him to apologise, nor to admit that merely meeting Maeglin might have been dangerous. She's not sure if she'd have preferred him to lie on the matter but she had noticed that he'd never agreed that Maeglin wouldn't kill her.
The elf shivers. Suddenly it all feels more, well important is the wrong word, but she has a sudden irrational feeling like she's stepped briefly into a legend. It's ridiculous and she quickly represses it, but it's still there. Like she doesn't know the whole situation, that there might be decades, even centuries of history that would explain everything if only she knew it.
Work doesn't help distract her much. Well, it does, kind of, but she's vaguely aware of Martin watching her, and being back in Denerim isn't exactly soothing. She's still got the nagging feeling that she's being watched.
Maybe the boss was right. She should speak to someone she trusts about this.
The Alienage hasn't changed much. Admittedly, it's not like she's been gone for long enough for it to change, but part of her still wants it to. As if now that she's grown up and moved out the world of her childhood would change to become unrecognisable. It hasn't though.
Delora knocks on the door of her childhood home and the door opens. Her mother hasn't changed much either.
She wraps Delora up in a hug and holds her close as she cries, "Delora! What brings you here? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Kind of. Um, not really." The elven merchant mutters into her mother's dress. "Can I come in and talk to you?"
"Of course darling." Her mother replies, pulling her into the house. "I'll always have time for my daughter."
Delora isn't a child. She doesn't think that talking to her ma was going to solve everything. But she can't deny she does feel better. Not much, just a little bit. She gives good advice too.
If only it didn't sound so much like the offers she's been ignoring all week.
Still, mama didn't raise a coward. She's just going to have to bite the belt and apologise to people and ask for their help. Urgh, she's also going to have to apologise to Martin. And she should probably thank her boss too. Delora covered her face with her hands. She didn't want to do any of that.
"Try the Wonders of Thedas!" A crier, well, cried. "All the exotic and magical items you could need!"
Hang on, didn't the boss want books? She could pop in here and maybe wander around the market looking for them. She wasn't procrastinating, no sir, she was just doing her job. Plus, if she found a book the boss would really like then that could be his thanks.
Internally the elf cheered at another day of solving her problems like a mature adult.
That tranquil guy was deeply, fundamentally creepy. Was Magic, its Traps and Pitfalls a good pickup? Absolutely. Did she deeply regret going into the store and speaking to that emotionless, unblinking automaton shaped like a man? Absolutely.
Fortunately, she did not need to deal with anything even similar for the rest of the books. A complete copy of the Chant of Light has been published in a single volume, and it's not even that expensive. Easy pick up, everybody needs one of those. Chantry practically gives it away when she flashes her badge too.
A Complete Genealogy of the Kings of Ferelden is recommended to her by another book merchant. She doesn't know what a genealogy is, but it talks about the history of Ferelden, and that sounds right up the boss' alley.
She'd planned to leave it there, but she had a stroke of luck as she leaves. In some random store there was a moth eaten copy of a book she barely recognises. The lettering on the cover is worn to near illegibility. It reads The Family Amladris. The name tugs at her memory, and she has some money in the budget, so she picks it up.
Weekly Report
Upon your return to Endataurëo, to your annoyance you find that most of the news is of your actions. Honestly, it is not that impressive. You only defeated, what, twenty four, twenty five, twenty seven knights over the course of two days. It is slightly impressive, and certainly educational, but hardly worth the amount of gossip you are receiving from your informants.
Merrill is all aflutter about some kind of brewing leadership crisis. Apparently they need to replace their Hahren, but technically speaking they can't unless Marethari declares it unilaterally. This is leading to friction with some of the more 'traditional' members.
In fairness, a single individual consolidating power in the clan is the kind of thing that would worry you if it was happening to humans. That you judge Marethari as unlikely to take advantage of such a position is likely no comfort to the Nandëo.
Then a report comes in of a mage having arrived. You hurry to the courtyard ready to meet someone akin to Lilian only to stumble into the crazed mage who carried the Lady's message to you.
"You!" he cries, pointing at you. "What are you doing here!"
"I could ask you the same question." You reply, hand drifting towards your sword.
"HERMAN!" Xandar yells into the courtyard.
The two of you turn to face the young man.
"Explain. Now." You say in unison.