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[JoeLaTurkey]

 

 

Prologue

 

 

"Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe."

Abraham Lincoln

 

Life had taught Aedan Cousland that the cusp of victory often left one wide open to a blow that could spell defeat. He had seen it countless times in countless forms. He saw in the duels from his father's tournaments, when arrogant knights abandoned caution and charged at battered opponents, throwing all their weight behind easily-countered swings of a sword. He saw it in battle, when otherwise disciplined men and women broke formation in the hope of initiating slaughter, only to suffer it themselves. But the risk was never greater than in politics, where the clarity and tangibility of steel and slaughter were traded for things that were far more difficult to control.
 
And now here he was, in the Landsmeet Chamber wearing dragonbone armour; fully exposed to the tides of battle and diplomacy alike, fully shielded from neither. He was close now, so close. Loghain's support was all but annihilated. Howe was dead, Sighard's son returned to him, Rexel and Irminric were freed, and the proof of elven slave trading was undeniable. But Aedan's mind would not be settled until his victory was absolute. Until the Landsmeet ended, anything was possible.
 
"South Reach stands with the Grey Wardens."
 
There was one. No surprise; Bryland was a reasonable man. Aedan wished he would stop sweating.
 
"Waking Sea stands with the Grey Wardens!"
 
Up to two. Aedan's heart was still pounding. How he hated the lack of such basic bodily control. His parents always told him that mastery of anything began with mastery of oneself.
 
"Dragon's Peak supports the Wardens!" cried Sighard.
 
Three. He couldn't fail now…
 
"The Warden! I'm with the Warden!" Vaughan spluttered. The heir to the Arling of Denerim almost fell over the bannister as he lunged forward, hand in the air like a child trying to show off during a lesson. Aedan suppressed a momentary surge of disgust at having gained the support of such a man.
 
"The Western Hills throw their lot in with the Wardens, Maker help us." Wulff's words came out as an exhausted growl. Reluctant allies were never a thing to outright celebrate, but Aedan was glad for the vote nonetheless.
And then it happened. The very thing Aedan feared the most, and had tried so hard to steel himself against: something that he hadn't accounted for.
 
"The Warden helped me personally in a family matter."
 
This was not a voice Aedan recognised. It was gravelly and tired-sounding like Wulff's but still stately and fine-tuned for public speaking. The voice of a noble. Aedan's was not the only head sharply swivelling towards this new speaker. A tall, imposing man on Sighard's right stepped out of the shadows. This man wore the fancy garments of Fereldan nobility like a glove, yet was unlike anyone else in the room. His skin was pale and sallow, eyes ringed by the darkened flesh of sleepless nights and heavy burdens. His short black hair was flecked with premature grey, contrasting with a taut, oddly ageless face. Large dark eyes locked with Aedan's before slowly turning back to the irate Loghain. Aedan's gaze then passed to Alistair, who looked as confused as he. Who was this man? Important enough to stand in the upper level of the Landsmeet chamber with the Banns and the Arls, deciding the fate of the nation, yet unwilling to give his name or the district (in any) that he ruled over. The man's very presence seemed to evoke quite a reaction among the nobles, who were now exchanging a mixture of looks; some confused, some knowing, some frightened, some smug.
 
Well, there it is, a rare oversight. But an oversight that worked in my favour. This must have been the bonus Ignacio mentioned.
This was a pleasant surprise, and a significant improvement over his previous 'rewards' for Crow contracts. Displeased as he was for being caught off-guard at such a crucial time after months of such thorough preparation, Aedan's mind quickly ascertained the opportunity.
 
"Zevran!" he hissed, grabbing the wrist of the elf beside him as the banns of White River and Winter's Breath declared their support for the Wardens.
 
"Yes my friend?"
 
"Do not leave this building without that man's name, and whatever else you can dig up without rousing too much suspicion."
 
Zevran nodded and scurried off through the crowd of spectators, soon disappearing.
 
It was a task better suited for Leliana, but these were still nobility, and an Orlesian bard was still a far less welcome sight than a non-human assassin. At least it would be for a man who had so recently dealt with the Crows.
 
Aedan was so intrigued by this development, his mind only just registered that wheezy old fool Cerolic's supporting vote for Loghain. It mattered not, as the Bann stood alone. Loghain would now be left with no choice but to call a duel: an option even more irrational than all his other blunders.
 
Aedan's heartbeat slowed and breathing returned to normal as he finally passed the hurdle that required him to relinquish control. He vowed to never again suffer such an indignity.

[JoeLaTurkey]

Chapter One - Acquisitions (Extract)

 
Aedan and his companions were last out of the Landsmeet Chamber, trailing behind the crowd of nobility who were chatting excitedly from spirits both lifted by the verdict and troubled by the coming battle. Alistair was in a daze. Loghain's blood covered his armour and Duncan's blade, some of it streaking his face, which was alight with a combination of elated triumph and residual hatred.
 
Aedan had given Alistair all the time he needed to take in such a momentous event, waiting as his friend stared madly at the corpse and head. Zevran still wasn't back from his discreet palace ransacking, so this provided a good reason to wait. But there was only so long they could hold back without infuriating Anora, who was surely racked by conflicting emotions over all this. The servants were also itching for a chance to clean up before the stains became permanent. A shame really, Aedan would have liked to see it preserved as a landmark.
 
"Are you okay Alistair?" said Wynne, lightly touching his shoulder, a rather absurd sight considering Effort put several inches of silverite between her hand and anything of Alistair.
 
"Never better," Alistair breathed, still miles away.
 
Aedan felt a surge of pride. His friend had come a long way indeed. Though not a king, Alistair Theirin was now a fully-rounded Warden, confident in his abilities and well-versed in the values of ruthlessness and pragmatism.
 
"And to think how high and mighty you were about killing when I met you," Morrigan crooned.
 
"This means the Swamp Witch and It are actually more alike than first thought," said Shale.
 
"You do know how to ruin a moment, Golem."
 
"Thank you. I feared my abilities were slipping."
 
"So…one civil war ended, one tyrant dead, several armies marshalled," said Leliana. "Overall a very successful day. What shall we do for the rest of it?"
 
Oghren's shout of laughter answered that question. He gave Alistair a firm slap on the back, shaking some of the catatonia from the younger man's eyes.
 
"Let's drink! Poor boy here looks like he's loaded his shorts. This would never happen with Berserker training. Might as well loosen him up with some booze."
 
Berthold barked happily. An evening at a local tavern meant several servings of free pork.
 
"You all put too much emotional weight into killing," said Sten with his usual dismissiveness. "A necessity is a necessity, you need not assign a strong emotional reaction to it. Should I weep every time I tie my bootlaces?"
 
"Or play with kittens?" said Leliana.
 
He glared at her.
 
"You know…" she added with a twinkle in her eye, "while we're on the subject of necessities."
 
"Where is the Painted Elf?" said Shale. "Has it decided to betray us at last?"
 
Just as Aedan began to come up with another excuse to stay behind, Zevran appeared, poking his head out of a nearby linen closet making a frantic 'come here' gesture.
 
"Everyone!" Aedan boomed. "Go back to Arl Eamon's Estate with the Queen, I will return as soon as I can."
 
 
 
Full text at Fanfiction.net

[JoeLaTurkey]

Chapter Two - The Second (Extract)

 

 

"No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true."

- Nathaniel Hawthorne

 

The shockwave of the Landsmeet verdict had already reached the Market District. With the deadlock of civil war finally resolved, the whole city seemed to have snapped out of some great trance. Crowds of panicking people filled the area, watched here by nervous Templars as the city guard was now so overstretched. Most were stocking up on food, others stumbled about under ludicrously tall piles of blankets. Some were even erecting banners with urgent patriotic messages scribbled on. The Sisters and Brothers of the Chantry had spilled out onto the less glamorous streets for once, leading frantic prayers and stirring up the expected amount of unhelpful doomsday panic. A surge of anger shot through Aedan. What was wrong with these people? Did the common folk of Denerim think the darkspawn had put everything on hold like they had, politely waiting for a long overdue resolution to the country's leadership squabbles?

 

Fools. They should have started preparing like this months ago!

 

But there was nothing more to be done now. Aedan unclenched his fists; he needed to stop letting himself be so surprised by such widespread stupidity. Ideally, the fighting wouldn't even reach Denerim. And even if its inhabitants managed to forget all basic notions of common sense, Aedan would make sure they bloody well remembered to be grateful to him.

 

"Dwarven crafts! Fine dwarven crafts!"

 

There it was, the reason he was here.

 

Maker, Gorim. You sound like a rusted hinge these days.

 

He looked no better. Months of such hollow, unfulfilling work were getting to Gorim, whose face and finery looked as worn as his business skills. No sooner had he forced out the announcement than he was fighting off a distinctly shabby-looking crowd of humans and elves with great effort. Aedan wondered if the dwarf had ever dealt with such a large influx of potential buyers. He approached the stall.

 

"My lord!" Gorim yelled when spotting him. "Is there anything I can do for- make way, MAKE WAY!" The dwarf tried to push and elbow his way through the rabble, giving up halfway.

 

"I had no idea such high-quality weapons and armour would be a target for panic buying. Especially for these common folk."

 

"They aren't," Gorim grunted, straightening his creased doublet. "These are servants. Their rich masters are bunkered down in fortified estates. That's the only reason they aren't looting anything, it's more than their life's worth."

 

Aedan could tell Gorim's patience would not hold out for long. They would need to speak alone.

 

"Let's do business in private. I can offer you more than any of these people."

 

Gorim nodded. "RIGHT!" he shouted, throwing his hands up like a lost child. "WE'RE CLOSED! GET OUT OF HERE AT ONCE! YOU WANT ARMS AND ARMOUR, GO HARASS WADE!"

 

"YOU HEARD THE MAN!" Aedan boomed as authoritatively as he could.

 

The Landsmeet debate proved one hell of a warm up, as the remaining humans and elves scattered without any resistance.

Gorim let out an exhausted sigh, deflating like a punctured canteen. "Thanks for bailing me out. Most of our stock went to the army, free of charge. What you see here is all I have left." He scowled. "My father-in-law insisted we lower the prices on remaining items, I insisted he see reason. It's all going to be swallowed up by the nobility anyway."

 

In-laws and their ways, Aedan was glad he never had to put with them.

 

"Well," he said cautiously, "if I were here to swallow it up I'd pay you properly, Ser Gorim."

 

The dwarf winced as though Aedan had brandished Starfang. "Please don't call me that, my lord."

 

"That title is rightfully yours," Aedan insisted, unfazed. "And I'm here to offer you everything else that's rightfully yours. No need to look so wary."

 

"Just what are you offering Warden?"

 

Aedan drew himself up to his full height. "Gorim, the end of the Blight is nearly upon us. I have decided I will stay in Denerim when that end comes, in order to coordinate the rebuilding of this country."

 

"I'm glad to hear it, my lord," Gorim croaked, though he sounded like he wanted nothing more than to end this conversation. "But I don't see where I factor into this."

 

"I'm going to need the assistance of our best and brightest in order to pull it off. That is where you come in. I'm offering you a job, a job to assist your…whatever it is I become. There are many positions available to me. I could reclaim my family's old Teyrnir…I could help myself to Loghain's. Join me and I can offer the best salary you've ever had, with full protection for your family. Starting now, by the way. Say the word and I'll point you to a secure bunker right here in Denerim."

 

Gorim looked overwhelmed. "My lord, I cannot accept such generosity without the feeling that there's going to be some horrible catch," he said breathlessly.

 

Aedan chuckled. "Perhaps you would feel better if we discussed this away from your workplace?"

 

Gorim wasn't going to argue that point. "Of course," he said.

 

 

Full text at Fanfiction.net