Trouble & Strife: Chapter Forty Five

[scarylady]

Much love to bellaknoti the Comma Fairy, who kindly tidies up my chapters.

Link to the beginning, for anyone joining us for the first time: www.fanfiction.net/s/6144534/1/Trouble_Strife

Title: Trouble & Strife: Chapter Forty Five
Characters: today we have Alistair, Maddy, Anders, Zevran, Teagan, Nathaniel, Oghren, Bhelen and Vartag
Rating: T
This chapter:  Alistair is finding the negotiations a bit challenging.

 

-oOo-

The constant scritching was driving him insane.

Bad enough to have to keep details of some of the most tortuously complex contracts in the history of Thedas in his head; worse to be forced to re-negotiate said contracts with a hard-nosed git like Bhelen. Absolutely impossible having to do so while distant darkspawn, located in tunnels below Orzammar, itched in his blood and his brain.

“I can’t do this, Maddy.” The words were a little muffled, bent as he was over a table full of incomprehensible paperwork. “I’m not clever enough.”

Soft fingers stroked over his neck and shoulders, easing tension. “Yes you can, mon mari. You have done splendidly so far.”

Alistair rubbed at his tired, gritty eyes. Not only was Bhelen pushing him hard in the negotiation sessions, the devious dwarven King was also ensuring that his opponent had little time for rest or thought. Entertainments followed spectacles followed tours in an endless parade of distraction.

The rest of his entourage, spared from being present at every event, were doing as much of the work as possible. Leliana and Teagan, in particular, were working hard; poring over paperwork in the Shaperate, schmoozing with anyone and everyone who might know something to their advantage. Everything they discovered must be absorbed into Alistair’s weary brain; he was beginning to feel like an Orlesian goose, stuffed to repletion and doomed to be foie gras.

“There’s still something missing. There’s no way the Chantry is paying as little as this, and Bhelen has hinted as much. He says it’s not important, as he won’t be looking for me to match the other payments. He wants my troops to reclaim the thaigs instead.” Alistair turned over paperwork, fruitlessly looking for what he knew wasn’t there. “But how can I know whether I’m being stiffed on price if I don’t know what the Chantry was paying? He wants far more troops than I can spare, and I can’t negotiate if I don’t know everything I need to.”

Maddy read over his shoulder, even though by now she knew every detail of what had been discussed and agreed so far. “The sheer size of the deliveries is an issue. The first few shipments will drain the treasury completely, assuming we can cover them at all. It’ll take months, or even years, to recoup our expenses and get into profit. It leaves Ferelden vulnerable.”

Her husband nodded and winced, as tense neck muscles complained. “And they will have to be shipped all over the world. Fortunately we have plenty of good ports, but nowhere near enough ships of our own to achieve all of this. The Chantry used Orlesian shipping, as the contract was with the Divine. If I strip the Brecilian forest to build ships, I can wave goodbye to any alliance with the Dalish.”

“Oh!”

The stunned tone of his wife’s voice made Alistair turn to her, concerned. “What? Is something wrong? Is it the baby?”

She blinked at him, coming back from some faraway place. “No! No, it’s just…” Maddy frowned, considering. “I’m wondering if I can grow a forest.”

“If you can grow a forest… an entire forest?” Alistair stared at her for a moment, bewildered, and then an awed gleam entered his eyes. “For a shipyard?”

“Exactly.” She looked suddenly stricken and her hand came up to her mouth. “Oh, how awful of me; how can I have even considered it? It causes such agony for the trees.”

Alistair began to shrug and caught himself, knowing his wife would not appreciate his unconcern. “Maddy, ships have to be built and last I looked they were made of wood. If it’s not from one tree, it’s from another, and I’ll certainly be happy not to have to explain to the Dalish why I’m decimating the Brecilian forest.”

“Hmph.”  

It was a very unconvinced noise, but he could work on that. Getting the problem of shipping out of the equation was just too tempting.

-oOo-

“Darkthpawn! Get ‘em!”

“Raaaaaarrrrwwww!”

“For the Gwey Wardenth!”

Feet thundered over wooden floors, skidding to a halt in tiny sparks of uncontrolled magic. The clatter of wooden weapons combined with unconvincing growls and roars from children daubed with some weird brown and green concoction cooked up by doting kitchen staff.

In the Commander’s study adjacent to the main hall, Nathaniel threw down his quill, spraying ink over the documents in front of him. “Maker’s blood, this is impossible.” His voice bounced off the uncaring walls, while from beyond them issued thuds and giggles.

He stood and stalked to the door, trying to swallow down his impatience. He liked children and sympathised with Leonie’s desire to protect them from the unduly harsh treatment of the Templars, but this was a Warden compound, for Andraste’s sake. No place for a horde of kids, especially ones with magic leaking out of every pore.

“Marlene!” Nathaniel inadvertently roared the name directly into the poor woman’s face, flinging his door open at the exact moment she was passing. 

The middle-aged mage winced, taking a step back. “Commander?”

“I’m not the-” he stopped, jerked up short by his shiny new harness. “Yes. Take those children outside to play, so I can get some work done. And if they really want to hit each other, ask the master-at-arms to run them through some basics in the practice yard.”

Her eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. “Weapons training, Commander? For mage children?” The edge of mockery in the apostate’s voice set Nathaniel’s teeth on edge.

“Decent long weapon training certainly wouldn’t go amiss; I can’t count the number of times Anders has walloped me on the head with his staff during a fight.”

-oOo-

 

“Andraste’s tits, are you serious?” Anders looked up from his examination of Maddy’s belly. The babies were fine, curled around each other, their physical bodies still only partially formed, but their fade selves perfect. “What were you planning on doing, Maddy, taking a picnic down there? It’s not exactly a region of sunshine and flowers, you know.”

“I want to see this place that my husband must go to die.”

“Well, you can’t. No-one goes to the Deep Roads except Wardens and the Legion.” Anders nodded at Maddy, indicating that she could re-button her shift. She scowled at his implacable tone, but did as she was bid.

“As well as dwarven patrols, and Circle mages now, it seems. I wish only to be taken to the barricades, to see with my own eyes this place that Alistair must enter alone. Do you not understand?” Her pleading voice and haunted eyes wrenched at the mage, but he stood firm.

“No, Maddy, you’re the one who needs to understand. Anyone who so much as sets foot in the Deep Roads has to be prepared to die there. They might not, but they have to accept that it’s a risk. It is not a risk you’re going to take.” The Warden - and Anders had rarely felt so much a Warden as in this moment - folded his arms across his chest, looking down at the small and pregnant Queen propped up on the bed. “I want your word that you won’t pursue this. Otherwise I’m going straight to Alistair.”

“You wouldn’t!” Maddy’s reproachful green eyes played expertly upon the part of Anders who was eternally ten years old and wouldn’t ‘tell’. In a rare display of maturity he squashed the mischievous boy.

“I would, and I will.   Do I have your word?”

She squirmed and fidgeted, twisting her hands in her lap, obviously unwilling. After a moment, though, she became still, and her eyes widened. She looked up at him. “I’m so sorry, I just realised what a fool I am. You… you have to do this thing too, n’est-ce pas?”

Anders shrugged, a shade embarrassed by her concern. “Don’t worry about me; when I became a Warden I gained thirty years of freedom.” A thought struck him. “Y’know, you might want to ask Alistair about that. He was going to be a Templar, right? Could be that he thinks he’s better off this way, too.”

Maddy shook her head. “He said that he was furious when his Commander told him.”

Anders picked up his cat, preparing to leave. He’d assured Alistair he would seek out his own Commander; they were in agreement that Leonie looked dreadful. “I still need that promise from you, Maddy. I’m not kidding when I say I’ll tell Alistair.”

Her shoulders slumped, defeated. “Alright, I give you my word.” The sadness in her eyes tore at him, but he was buggered if he was going to let her find Oghren or Sigrun – people who didn’t know her well enough to protest - and talk them into this instead.

-oOo-

“Oi, sparklefingers.” Oghren intercepted Anders in the vestibule of the Warden quarters, planting himself foursquare in the mage’s way. “Where d’yer think you’re goin’?”

“Nice to see you too, Oghren. Bet you missed me, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, right.  Vigil’s just not been the same without the smell o’ cat piss.” The dwarf scowled up at his friend. “If you think yer goin’ pesterin’ the Commander, yer wrong. Come in here a minute.” Oghren’s broad palm landed on Anders’ back, shoving him into a side room.

“Hey, no touching what you can’t afford, little man.” Anders shrugged his dishevelled cape back into place as Oghren shut the door. “Now, what’s with all the shifty stuff?”

“Been watchin’ for yer. Knew you’d make it over here, wavin’ blue light all over the place. Needed to warn yer before you stuck yer long nose in.”

The unusually serious expression on the dwarf’s face got his attention. “Spit it out, Oghren. Warn me of what.”

“Commander. Don’t go fussin’ ‘round her. She ain’t ill.”

“She isn’t? But…” Anders ran out of words; if she wasn’t ill, then the look on Oghren’s face could only mean one thing. “I see.” 

“Aye. She don’t want no fuss made.   Good thing we had a reason to come to Orzammar; we’ll be able to give her a good Warden send-off, but till then let her do her job in peace.”

Anders took a deep breath and nodded. “What about the King? Alistair’s a Warden, too.”

“Sure, tell the pike-twirler. Ten gets you one that he’ll fall face-down in his first pint, but he’s gotta make the trip one day, like the rest of us. He has a right to be there.”

Anders nodded again, remembering that Oghren had been fighting with Alistair while he was still running from Templars. He reached for the door handle and paused when a thought hit him. “Who’ll be the new Commander? You?”

“Ha!” Oghren’s crack of laughter echoed around the empty room. “You think she’d trust me with anythin’? Nah, the Howe pulled the short straw. That’s why he ain’t here; she’s left him to learn the ropes. Leonie wants to deal with this one last thing before she goes down below. She wants to make things better fer the kiddies.” Oghren’s customary scowl took on a minatory cast. “So, we’d best pull out the stops fer the Commander’s sake, right?”

-oOo-

Bhelen was angling for something else; Alistair was sure of it. They had worked around and around the subject of trade concessions, of grain and wood and other imports of importance to the dwarves. They had gone over the amounts of troops available to assist with re-taking the thaigs until everyone was sick of the subject. What Alistair needed in order to take this on without bankrupting his nation were a couple of years of credit, ideally three. Bhelen had been wriggling for days, hinting at another concession in exchange for this. For some reason, he seemed reluctant to spit out what it was.

In the end it was Teagan whose patience gave out. “Your Majesty, my King cannot agree terms with you unless you state what it is you require. Forgive me, but this strange reluctance is in danger of destroying what we are working towards.”

Vartag stiffened at the implied criticism, but Bhelen made no sign, merely looking at the Arl with all emotion veiled. In the end he shifted and sighed. “You are correct, but it’s… a difficult subject for me, and even more so for Orzammar.” His gaze moved to Alistair.

“King Alistair, we have heard some… strange tales concerning your Queen.”

Alistair blinked, caught on the hop. Of all the things he may have been expecting, this was a long way down the list. “Er… such as?”

“That she cures blight sickness. That she returns the muck and mush that you call the ground to health.” Both Alistair and Teagan nodded reflexively. Zevran remained impassive, his gaze on the dwarven King. “So,” Bhelen sat forward, clasping his hands on the table between them, “what exactly is she? A mage? Is it magic that she does?”

Alistair’s heart stuttered in his chest. He was intensely aware of Teagan at his side, whose nephew was trapped in the Circle Tower. 

Maker’s breath, I thought we’d made Maddy safe from this. 

He pulled himself together, forcing out a neutral answer. “We don’t know how she does it. It’s believed to be a gift from the Maker and Andraste.”

Bhelen exchanged a glance with Vartag.  “Believed to be? You’re not sure?”

Alistair didn’t like where this was going. “What is it you want, Bhelen? We ask you what else you require from us to seal this deal and you start asking questions about my wife. What does Maddy have to do with anything?”

In the silence that followed his question, while Bhelen appeared to weigh the pros and cons of answering it, Zevran made an amused sound. “Allow me to enlighten you, Alistair.” The fierce aspect Vartag turned on him did nothing whatsoever to faze the assassin, who turned his full attention to the bewildered Fereldan King. “I rather think that Orzammar wishes to make some use of the Queen’s… unusual skill, but they were hoping to hear that her abilities come from a physical source.” Wicked amber eyes slid over to where Bhelen was flushing under his beard. “Even if our good King here is pragmatic enough to stomach the idea of utilising Andraste’s blessings, do you think his Assembly would accept it so placidly?”

“Maker’s blood!” Alistair was on his feet, without any clear idea how it happened. “You want my wife, my pregnant wife, to- to-   Because right now I can only think of one place that-” He stopped, swallowing bile at the thought of Maddy down there. “Even if she could, which I doubt, not on rock and stone… No, absolutely not.”                

Bhelen was clearly annoyed at being dragooned into showing his hand so completely, but he rallied swiftly. “When we reclaim the thaigs, they will be polluted – your Queen could save us years of work.  You are asking a great deal from us, to operate on credit for as much as three years. Orzammar will have to bear the brunt, and the percentage returns you can offer are not high. If you don’t have something else -something unique - to offer me, perhaps I should be negotiating with a richer nation instead.”

“One who’s prepared to risk the wrath of the Chantry, Your Majesty?” Teagan’s voice was filled with scorn. “One who is prepared to send their troops into the Deep Roads? And all this to happen before your Assembly gets wind of what you are attempting to steal from under their noses?”

“You will show respect to my King!” Vartag surged to his feet, his hand on his sword, but Zevran was faster. A throwing knife slammed into the table, a mere fraction from where Vartag’s groin pressed against it. The dwarf froze and the assassin grinned, another knife already in his hand.

“Do not make me use this, my friend. I hear Orzammar is short on children, it would be a shame to deprive the world of yours.” Despite the fact that Zevran’s attention was on Gavorn, Bhelen pushed away from the table, fear writ plain on his face. He opened his mouth to call for the guards, but Alistair interrupted.

“Enough. Both of you stand down.” The voice of military authority had Vartag responding automatically. Only then did Zevran’s knife disappear into some mysterious location. “I’m calling a halt for today. We all need time to calm down.” Alistair looked over to where Bhelen was only beginning to recover his composure; he’s a coward, we should remember that in future. “You’d better decide whether you are happy with the agreements, Bhelen. Because trust me when I say that my wife will not be doing your bidding.”


 

-oOo-