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peopleofthedas2011-03-12 02:11 pm
Trouble & Strife: Chapter Forty Eight
I realise that posting anything this week is some kind of suidical lunacy, in which my chapter may as well be composted straight onto the rubbish heap because no-one is out there. Is anyone out there? If so, please try to save me from despair by commenting.
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_S
Title: Trouble & Strife: Chapter Forty Eight
Characters: today we have Alistair, Maddy, Anders, Zevran, Kallian, Cedric, Leliana, Teagan and Eamon
Rating: T
This chapter: Alistair rushes headlong for Denerim, while Maddy moves at a more sedate pace towards West Hill.
-oOo-
Alistair pushed his group hard – reverting to Blight habits of early starts and long, tiring days – and made use of every advantage that regular changes of horses and the well-travelled North Road could provide. They had no cumbersome royal trappings to slow them down; all the heavy marquee tents and luxurious camp beds had been left in Maddy’s cavalcade. Still, when the bulky silhouette of the capital city appeared on the horizon, everyone breathed a little easier; it had been an exhausting trip.
“Maker’s blood, Alistair, I’m too old for this.” At the young king’s amused snort, Teagan smiled ruefully. “It’s all very well, laughing, but I can give you fifteen years, you know. I can’t believe how much ground we’ve covered in so short a time.”
“Eight days…” Alistair chewed his lip thoughtfully. “My courier should have reached Eamon at least a day ago, maybe more. My hope is that we’ll arrive ahead of any letters from Orzammar to their contacts in the dwarven community, and also before the Grand Cleric gets wind of what’s happening. Bhelen will send his letter to the Divine – he has no contract with our Grand Cleric – so Loopy Leanna will no doubt hear gossip in Denerim before she gets official notification from Val Royeaux.”
Anders sighed wistfully. “I’d love to be a fly on the wall when the Divine gets that letter. I wonder how much lyrium the Chantry has stashed away. She’s going to chew through her own tongue about having to come cap-in-hand to you for more.”
This thought cheered them all as they spurred their horses on to Denerim.
-oOo-
The news that the King was making his way through the city to the Palace district - covered in road dust and devoid of his Queen - sent Eamon scurrying to greet him. Alistair’s hasty scrawl, which had told his Chancellor just enough to worry him, had arrived two days ago, and he was keen to receive the full story.
The young man who rode in through the Palace gates, his face drawn with weariness, struck him as subtly different than the one who left four months ago. He was still affable, but now appeared much more an affable King. Only someone who had known him for so long would have spotted the change. It was apparent in how he thoughtlessly threw the reins of his horse to a groom, lacking the self-consciousness with such servants that had previously characterised him. It showed in the easy way he ordered a room prepared for Arl Teagan, but most of all in how he addressed Arl Eamon himself.
“Eamon,” Alistair gripped the Arl’s outstretched hand and offered his usual boyish smile. “Good to see you. We need to speak, and quickly, but first I wish to bathe. Come up to my sitting-room in half an hour, please.” Alistair nodded to Teagan, Leliana and Anders. “You three, also.”
And that, it appeared, was that.
The King strode off, issuing a stream of commands regarding hot water and food, both for himself and his guests, to Chamberlain Bertrand, who followed in his wake.
Eamon turned to his brother, who was watching him with a lurking twinkle. Teagan dismounted and handed off his horse before clasping his brother’s hand. “I trust you are well, Eamon?”
Eamon nodded. “I am as well as can be expected, thank you, given the… well, more of that later.” The brothers turned to enter the palace, leaving Leliana and Anders to deal with the grooms in their turn. “I was surprised to hear that you accompanied Alistair to Orzammar, but then the news I’ve received has been necessarily brief. Teagan, the Circle… I mean, do you know-? Is Connor well?”
Teagan’s expression clouded over. “I don’t know. I hope so. We’ll explain everything, but privately. Now, for pity’s sake, Eamon, show me my room and let me bathe. I think I’ve picked up half the North Road on this mad journey.”
For the half-hour wait, Eamon did little other than pace. He had no idea how much of the truth he’d been told in correspondence – even royal couriers could be intercepted, after all – but from what he had been told, Alistair’s actions appeared rash, indeed. Certainly the Grand Cleric was unstable – his own meetings with her over the last few months had demonstrated as much - but the calm, diplomatic approach would have been to request her replacement and leave the matter in the hands of the Divine.
Alistair had certainly sent a letter to the Divine, but he had neither waited for a response, nor sent a delegate to plead his case. Instead, he had taken umbrage over the execution of apostates – who would, reflected Eamon, have been killed anyway – and insisted on direct action against the Chantry. Poisoned lyrium was, of course, a shocking thing – the behaviour of the four Templars languishing in Fort Drakon attested to that – but to respond by taking the lyrium trade away from the Chantry and into the hands of the Crown… The potential consequences of such a rash action made Eamon feel cold all over.
The Chantry, and by extension the peoples of every civilised nation, believed that the Chantry held the lyrium trade by Divine right. The sudden assumption of the trade by Ferelden could well trigger an Exalted March. Not to mention the responses of the other nations – and, in particular, Alistair’s very powerful sister-in-law – to such an enormous change in the fortunes of such a small country. Closer to home, the Grand Cleric would be well within her rights to muster support from the nobles against the monarch who had taken such a ruinous course.
This was setting aside the extra-ordinary rumours Eamon had been hearing regarding Alistair’s new Queen. That would also have to be discussed...
-oOo-
The eastern pass through the mountains offered far easier terrain than the one up from Lake Calenhad, but it still took over a week for the young Queen and her reduced entourage to encounter the first of the villages on the outskirts of West Hill.
It lay on the bank of the River Dane, and should have been a bustling community, situated so close to the mouth of the Waking Sea as it was. Instead, only a pitiful huddle of houses showed signs of occupancy with the rest falling into disrepair. By comparison, Lothering was thriving, despite the ravages of the Blight.
Captain Cedric reined in beside Maddy. “The quartermaster was hoping to pick up fresh food supplies once we left the mountains, but it doesn’t look very hopeful. Do you wish to break your journey here, or shall we press on?”
“I’m sure we’re all tired of cured nug and mushrooms, Cedric. Let’s at least see whether there is food to be had. I have no doubt our coin will be welcome, if so.”
“True enough.” He turned his horse and called out some orders, bringing the muddle of wagons and soldiers to a halt. Cautious heads peered from doorways before vanishing again. Cedric frowned around; puzzled that no-one had come to meet them. The square was deserted, although the twitch of window blinds suggested they were still watched. Cedric chose the biggest and most prosperous-looking residence – not that there was much to pick between them – and strode up to the door. He raised his fist and hammered on the wood. “Open, in the King’s name.”
After a short pause the door opened a scant inch or so, sufficient only to allow a somewhat bloodshot eyeball to scan Cedric’s armour and livery. Apparently the sight reassured the owner of the eye, as the door opened wider to reveal an anxious-looking middle-aged man in work-worn clothing, salt and pepper hair thinning on top.
“My humble apologies, ser; these are difficult times, difficult indeed, and we must be careful. What is your pleasure?” His voice had a slightly whiny quality which grated on Cedric’s ear.
“Supplies if you have them; the Queen is on her way to visit with Arl Wulff, and some variation in our diet would be welcome.”
“The Queen! Here?” The fellow seemed to shrink away, his gaze darting to where a muddle of horses and riders milled aimlessly, awaiting word from the Captain.
Cedric narrowed his gaze, wondering what the problem could be. “Indeed,” he paused and added, delicately, “do not be concerned… we are not looking for accommodations, we merely wish to buy food, if you or your neighbours have any to spare.” It seemed to the Captain that the only possible explanation for the man’s obvious jitters was the difficulty in housing and feeding so many people. Arl Wulff’s lands were well known to have been badly hit by the Blight, and the number of derelict houses here gave credence to the rumours.
The prospect of coin certainly brightened the man’s eye, and he even went so far as to mumble a greeting. But his nervous gaze flickered constantly to where Philippe was assisting Maddy to dismount, swinging his sister down from the saddle with the ease of long practice. Cedric left him to advise those behind the twitching curtains and shutters what was required, and returned to his Queen.
“Well, Ced, are we to dine on nug again?” Maddy’s bright smile was accompanied by a round of theatrical groans from soldiers long accustomed to her company.
“I hope not, ma’am, but we shall see. Conditions here…” He waved his hand, indicating what they could well see for themselves. “If this is an indication of what’s to come, Arl Wulff will fall on his knees in gratitude for your assistance, I would say.”
She looked around with a doubtful air. “This is not farmland, is it? I do not know how I could help.”
“Assist those further in, and the riverside villages will prosper.” Cedric spoke with authority; his father’s land was just such: fishing supplemented their income, but the majority came through milling and shipping of grain from the heart of the bannorn. He pointed to stationary watermills, and continued, “Once those are running again, people will flock back to villages like these.”
She nodded understanding and they both turned, distracted by the appearance of one or two villagers burdened with baskets of foodstuffs to sell. It seemed that nug would not be on the menu, after all.
-oOo-
By the time Teagan entered Alistair’s sitting room, everyone else was gathered there. Although weary, he was thankful to be clean, and revived further at the sight of the small mountain of cold cuts, bread and fruit gracing the sideboard. Alistair greeted him by merely waving at the display, whilst tucking into his own meal with customary appetite. Leliana and Anders had their heads together, giggling over something, while Eamon…
Teagan couldn’t deny that he’d been looking forward to seeing Eamon’s reaction to the change in Alistair. His brother was frowning, obviously keyed up, and wasted no time in getting the ball rolling.
“Now that everyone’s here, shall we begin? Alistair, I appreciate that open communication has been… difficult during your trip. None of us envisaged the situation becoming so sensitive, and in such a short space of time.”
The King grinned, dusting off his hands and setting his plate aside. “I must say it’s nice not to have to watch every word I say, or have Lel and Zev sweep every room for listening posts before I open my big mouth.” He leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands loosely on his knees. “I can’t recall exactly what I have and haven’t told you about the situation with the Chantry, so I’d better just run through it quickly.”
Alistair ticked the points off on his fingers as he spoke. “First of all, the Chantry is definitely cutting their lyrium with deathroot, both for their Templars and for sale. This you know, right?”
Eamon confirmed that he did, adding, “The four Templars that Bryland sent us were out of their heads from lyrium withdrawal by the time he got them to Fort Drakon. I approved a daily dose for them and they stabilised. Alistair, they have no memory of attacking you, in fact they are horrified at the mere idea. Are you certain it wasn’t an error? The Grand Cleric has called for their release several times.”
Anders snorted derisively. “An error? You mean a ‘oh look, a king; let’s charge at him waving our weapons’ type error? Yeah, it was that, for certain.”
Alistair jumped in before his Chancellor could retort. “Eamon, I had three Dalish Keepers with me and Anders. They were so crazed with bloodlust against mages I’m not even sure they heard me declare my presence, but it was loud and clear. There’s no excuse for them.”
He continued with his list, “We’ve ascertained, for certain, that not all Templars are being given this kind of dosage. All the Templars we’ve spoken to who’re stationed at outlying chantries are perfectly rational.” Alistair rolled his eyes towards Anders, who had made another disbelieving noise. “At least as rational as they ever are. However, I think we can assume that most, if not all, of the field agents are out of their minds on poisoned lyrium – not only did those four attack me, but we’ve heard plenty of reports of them mistreating young mages under escort. We are also certain that the Templars at the Circle tower are being poisoned – we have physical evidence taken from there.”
“How could you possibly have such a thing?”
Alistair seemed to have been expecting Eamon’s response; his grin was immediate, mischievous and boyish. “I had Leliana and Zevran break in.”
“What?”
This time Teagan stepped in, feeling that his brother’s shocked reaction lacked all the facts. “Brother, bear with us, you didn’t see the Knight Commander when he came to Redcliffe. I did and he was definitely hiding something; we feared for the safety of the mages, and with good reason as it turned out.” He wished he could add something reassuring in the face of the sombre look Eamon gave him, but had nothing to offer. He could only hope that Connor was alive and well.
With a sympathetic grimace aimed towards both the Guerrin brothers, Alistair carried on. “Between what Zev saw in the Circle, and what we later discovered at Orzammar… Well, it’s not good, and I feel responsible for not stopping it, but I can’t annex the Circle without the Landsmeet behind me. Listen to this; you won’t believe what Loopy Leanna and Crazy Cullen have done between them-”
While Eamon listened in silence, Alistair went on to explain in detail the situation at the Circle: the increased trading and extended Tranquil quarters; the culling of all potential ‘troublemakers’ and their conversion to Tranquil; the breakout of half a dozen mages led by the dwarf Dagna; the revised regime at the Circle, and its apparent similarity to Templar training.
“So this is why you cut the lyrium trade out from under the Chantry,” Eamon murmured finally, stroking his beard. “I see your reasoning, my boy, but it’s rash, very rash. Our problems with the Chantry are a local problem, and now you have provoked hostility from the Divine. Surely you appreciate that we can’t possibly stand against an Exalted Ma- Alistair, why are you grinning at me in that fashion?”
Alistair wasn’t the only one. Wide smiles had broken out all over the room, although a chill went down Teagan’s spine when he considered the root of those triumphant grins. Nevertheless, there was a definite note of smugness in the King’s response.
“I’m grinning because we have the Divine by the short and curlies; hold on to your hat, Eamon, because this makes everything else look like small change.” He sucked in a deep breath before revealing their ace-in the-hole. “The Chantry has been paying for their lyrium with Tranquil slaves for the past thousand years.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Scorn dripped through every word. “The Chantry would never do such a thing.”
“I did not think so either.” Leliana’s lilting voice lifted in support of Alistair. “But, Maker forgive them, it is all true.”
“I saw them with my own eyes, working down in the lyrium mines.” Triumph had bled away from Alistair’s face and voice, leaving a trace of the horror he had displayed in Orzammar. “And not only ex-maleficarum and apostates, there were elves from the Val Royeaux alienage, also.”
“Maker’s breath.” Despite the expletive, Eamon’s eyes were distant, calculating. Teagan knew his brother well enough to know that dismay over the plight of the slaves was the last thing on his mind. When the elder Guerrin brother turned his eyes back to his King, this was apparent in his speech. “You mentioned annexing the Circle. Is that your intention, then? To seize control of the Circle Tower?”
At this question Teagan’s eyes turned to Alistair, along with everyone else’s. They all, bar Eamon, knew the answer to this question, and just what a difficult path their young King had chosen.
Alistair was shaking his head vehemently. His jaw was set and his voice rang with determination. “That’s not enough; I will not have our Chantry run by maniacs. No, Eamon, I need your help to sway the Landsmeet. Even with all the evidence we have, this won’t be easy. I want to take the Ferelden Chantry away from the authority of the Divine, bring it under the protection of the Crown. I want our clerics, our Templars and our mages made safe. They are all my subjects.”
There it was: the same majesty that Maric had been capable of, and Cailan had not. It was obvious to Teagan, who had known all three Theirins, and surely Eamon must be seeing it too – the lift of the King’s jaw and the light in his eyes that stated he would not be gainsaid. Instead of arguing, his brother looked thoughtful, considering Alistair’s words.
“We’ll discuss this further, and also how to deal with this enormous change in our fortunes. I need to absorb what you’ve told me first, I think.” Eamon frowned and fixed his eyes on Alistair. “In the meantime, the other thing we must discuss is the atrocious mess surrounding your wife.”
-oOo-
With the supplies loaded and paid for, the Queen’s travel party mounted up and moved on. Something was niggling at Zevran’s mind, and, as they rode along, he turned over the events of the last couple of hours trying to work it out.
There had been no threat of any kind, nothing to put him on alert; even now he did not feel the presence of any danger, it was just…
He moved his horse up beside Kallian’s, needing someone to talk this through with. “My friend, did anything strike you as strange in the village we passed through?”
She gave him her attention, pulling her cloak more tightly around her shoulders; a somewhat biting wind was blowing. “You mean apart from the way they hid from us?”
“Yes, apart from th-” His forehead creased in thought. “No, not apart from that. Why would they be so suspicious? We are flying the King’s banner, are we not?”
Kallian shrugged. “Yeah, well, do all of the King’s soldiers pay for stuff? Or do they take? Do they… y’know… take more than just food?”
“You mean, do they rape?” Kallian’s mouth tightened, the old scars around it showing up white. Zevran mused that such a scar could well be caused by a backhanded swipe from a man wearing a heavy signet ring. “I imagine that would depend upon the nature of their commander. I can well conceive of what our upright Captain would do to such a man, no?”
The vicious grin which answered this brightened her usually sullen face, and they rode in companionable silence for a moment, musing pleasantly on such an eventuality.
“Still,” said Zev, returning to his theme, “there was something more, something that struck me as odd about their behaviour, and I cannot pinpoint what it is.”
“To be honest, provided they leave Maddy alone and don’t threaten her, I couldn’t care less. Maybe you should be asking Ced; it’s his job to notice the bigger stuff, right?”
“Hmm, perhaps you are right, I shall speak with our fine Capitano.” Zev nudged his horse again towards where Cedric rode at the head of the column with the Queen. Then, halfway there, he pulled on the reins, drawing his horse to a standstill. He thought for a moment and then turned, riding back to Kallian.
“You are absolutely correct; how very clever of you.”
“Huh?” She blinked at him, at the mocking curl of his lip. “What did I say?”
“That they left Maddy alone. If I recall correctly, I did not see one single villager approach the Queen. No-one wanted to curtsey to her, to have their baby touched, to receive her blessing. Since Lothering she has been treated by the common folk as a living saint, and yet those villagers avoided her. Now why would that be?”
-oOo-
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Just as an aside (because I have this thing about grammar, you know), there shouldn't be a comma after "It lay on the bank of the River Dane..." since the "and" simply connects two verbs rather than two sentences (independent clauses). It's a trifling thing, but I thought you'd like to know. :)
I'm so looking forward to your next update. Thanks for a good read.
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Ah well, if that's the only one you've spotted then I can't be doing too badly.
I like that you think of Maddy as a one trick pony, as that's pretty much how I see her, too. Someone who, by a total fluke, can do something unusual enough to make people think she's a lot more special than she actually is. I live in constant fear of her appearing to be an overpowered Mary Sue (although she's nothing like me), so this is reassuring.
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And Alistair? He is his father's son. *sniffling proudly*
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... and I'm worried for the Queen...
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i'm waiting for everyone to come back from their screens, too.
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*hugs*
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*^.^*
*hugs*
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If you could chuck out an occasional review on FF on your way through - just to let me know how you are finding it as it unfolds - that would be lovely-jubbly.
And no, this chapter wouldn't make one scrap of sense to you, but is packed to the rafters with spoilers. Best not :)
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Oh, and hail king Alistair! Good way to handle Eamon, just shock him with enough news and facts that he can't keep up.
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I also love that Alistair pulled this off without Eamon, and that Eamon may finally be twigging to the fact that Alistair has a brain, and knows how to use it.
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Our boy's all growed up *sniffles proudly*
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Also, is it just me, or does this seem to strangely echo the story in DA2? O_o
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