There and Back - Chapter 106

[elyssacousland]

Chapter One Hundred Six: Landsmeet

It was a long walk across the city to the Landsmeet, and we’d had to get up way too early. I cursed the lack of technology again. I miss cars. And traffic lights. Who’d ever have thought I’d miss traffic lights? Denerim could definitely use them, with people, wagons, carriages, and beasts of burden everywhere, as there were. While we could have taken a carriage, given the crowded, narrow streets of Denerim, it wouldn’t have been much faster.

I was used to the walking - spending months on foot traversing Ferelden ensured my level of fitness could take it - but trying to get anywhere quickly was nigh-impossible. I sighed and just kept going.

The Landsmeet chamber was attached to, but separate from, the Palace. Everyone had to enter through the main doors - there was no favouritism for the reigning monarch, so no special entrances, and every noble house held a vote in the Landsmeet, though as I understood it, the minor nobility and non-landowners usually gave their proxy to their respective liege lords. Still, there were always expected to be dozens of nobles present, more for such an unusual circumstance as a debate over who would take the throne.

Teagan and Eamon separated from us, leaving their guards outside with the other nobles’ guards in a post designed just for that purpose. The rest of us waited a few minutes, until it began to sleet, the late winter weather unpredictable and uncomfortable, and as a group we surged toward the doors. Once inside, those who were to remain outside of the chamber in case we needed backup peeled off and found themselves an alcove in the foyer. The rest of us, shaking off the water, headed toward the ornate doors leading to the Landsmeet chamber itself. Aedan, Alistair, and Nathaniel led the way; I stood at the back of our group, and could not hear the conversation when Cauthrien stepped out of her own alcove and confronted us. She spoke with Aedan for a while, finally bowing formally and stepping back to let us pass.

I felt sorry for her; whether Loghain was her father or not, he was her liege, her hero, and in less than a year she’d watched him fall from a man to be respected, even revered, to a treasonous, obsessive, insane reflection of who he had been. It couldn’t have been easy.

Finally the doors opened, and we filed in. As we’d agreed, most of us spread out and headed into the crowd of lower nobility on the floor, those without the standing to have a dais or alcove for themselves. The remaining four - Alistair, Aedan, Nathaniel, and Theron - walked through the crowd, which slowly parted in curiosity to let them through.

I headed left, leaning against the wall below the empty alcove that had evidently belonged to my parents. It gave me a good view of Eamon and Teagan, the Grand Cleric - a wrinkled prune of a woman I immediately was sure I’d hate - Elemena, Arl Bryland, Bann Alfstanna, and the others who would be critical in the upcoming discussion. Duncan was opposite me, below Eamon’s balcony; the others were scattered throughout the room as well. The floor was far more crowded than it had been in game, and I wondered if it was more to do with the game’s details being vague, or whether it was because of the number of nobles who’d survived, that hadn’t in game. It was clear, based on the many derisive looks being shot at Loghain, that there was far more enmity towards him than the game would have led me to believe.

Eamon was saying the line I expected from the game - disparaging Loghain, of course - his impassioned speech drawing some cheers and a bunch of chatter on the floor. Loghain had the temerity to be standing in Cailan’s spot right in front of the throne up on the royal dais. Hardly surprising, but I wasn’t the only person who noticed the placement - I saw several nobles gesturing to him and whispering amongst themselves, overhearing a few words, like ‘King Loghain’ said in a scornful voice. He stepped down, perhaps in response, responding sarcastically to Eamon’s accusations, when he noticed Aedan, Alistair, Nathaniel, and Theron pushing their way to the front of the crowd.

When he hit the bottom of the stairs, Loghain called out, “Ah! And here, we have the puppeteer. Tell us, Warden, how will the Orlesians take our nation from us? Will they deign to send their troops, or simply issue their commands through this would-be prince? What did they offer you? How much is the price of Ferelden honour now?”

Alistair stepped forward before Aedan could, and responded, “The Blight is the real threat here, Teyrn Loghain, not Orlais.” The scorn placed on Loghain’s title was obvious, but he kept a straight face. I was immensely proud, and for one minute, a stupid grin plastered itself to my face.

Alfstanna and Wulff jumped in, agreeing vehemently, and then Loghain began to reply, confirming the Blight but questioning whether Wardens were needed to end it.

Aedan interrupted him, going completely off script, which amused me for some dark reason - I’d always wanted free reign to shout at Loghain in game, and finally Aedan had it.

My brother knew how to speak in public, his education as a noble’s son obvious; he stepped forward, pitching his voice loud so it practically reverberated through the room; for the first time since we’d entered, all of the nobles stopped whispering amongst themselves and listened.

“You don’t know the answer to that question, Loghain, because you never bothered to ask, or to listen. The truth is, Lords and Ladies, that Grey Wardens are the only ones who can kill the Archdemon. Cailan knew that.” A little white lie, I supposed, that wouldn’t hurt. “So in effect, Loghain sending the Wardens to their deaths at Ostagar, and sending assassins after the remaining two who survived his betrayal, almost ended any chance Ferelden had at defeating the Blight.

“And all this so he could try to seize power before anyone could oppose him; he even sent his men around the country, declaring him King Loghain to anyone who would listen.”

Loghain tried to respond, but angry muttering which started out quietly soon became a roar of furious shouting. Aedan was able to raise his voice further, booming out over the noise, and they quieted again.

“And we know you were working with Rendon Howe, Loghain. He was many things, but he was not stupid; unless he knew in advance that King Cailan would not be coming home, he would not have felt secure in attacking Highever, massacring my family, or in taking over the Arling of Denerim and killing Vaughn Kendalls, the rightful heir, never mind torturing nobles and templars in his dungeon.”

Bann Sighard shouted out, confirming that his son had been tortured; the angry muttering increased in volume again, and Loghain actually took a nervous step back from the seething crowd.

Loghain, trying to regain control, replied, “Howe was responsible for himself. He will answer to the Maker for any wrongs committed in this life, as must we all. But you know that - you were the one who murdered him. Whatever Howe may have done, he should have been brought before the Seneschal. There is no justice in butchering a man in his home.”

Nathaniel stepped forward, and as one, the crowd fell silent. “Actually, I killed him, Loghain.” Nate turned and faced the crowd. “I am Nathaniel Howe. I was warned that my father had gone mad, and I returned from the Free Marches to see the truth for myself. When my father realised that I opposed his actions, he captured me, torturing me just as he did Oswyn.” He nodded to Bann Sighard. “I am sorry for his actions with your son, my Lord.

“I was forced to endure, while my father gloated how he had Loghain in his pocket, how once he had broken me, he would force Anora to marry me and then a Howe would be King. When the Grey Wardens rescued me from captivity, I accompanied them to the dungeon, and it was I who put him down like the rabid dog he had become.

“Justice would not have been served by bringing him to your Seneschal, when he was undoubtedly in on the whole thing. When an animal develops a taste for human flesh, it must be killed, and my father was just such an animal, at the end. He deserved no other outcome, and neither do you.”

There were assorted indignant cries at the revealed information, and someone at the back actually threw something at Loghain - I thought it might be a prune, or perhaps a small plum - he dodged, and it landed wetly on the floor behind him. The crowd surged forward, and it seemed they might actually be angry enough to rip the man apart with their bare hands. I caught Zevran’s eye - he was fingering his daggers, working his way towards a scowling, pock-faced man who had gripped his sword and looked to be debating pulling it to defend Loghain.

Aedan shouted out again and the crowd paused to listen once more. “Besides, Loghain, you would speak of justice? What justice was there in sending a blood mage to poison Arl Eamon, the one noble other than my father most likely to stand up against you? Are we expected to believe it was a happy accident for you that both of the families who could oppose you were conveniently out of the way? What justice was there in trying to have the Grey Wardens assassinated? In fomenting rebellion within the Circle?”

Loghain sneered and replied, “I assure you Warden, if I were going to send someone to poison a noble, it would be my own soldiers. I would not trust to the discretion of an apostate. Nor would I consort with hired assassins or Circle Mages.”

Alfstanna stepped forward again. “Indeed? My brother tells a very different tale. He says you snatched a blood mage from the Chantry’s justice. Coincidence?”

“Do not think the Chantry will overlook this, Teyrn Loghain. Interference in a Templar’s sacred duties is an offense against the Maker,” the wrinkled prune shouted, and there was more unhappy murmuring from the crowd.

Aedan followed that up with his own reply. “I have the maleficar you hired, as well as the assassin; They can testify, if the Landsmeet feels that to be necessary.”

One again, people started arguing amongst themselves, the noise rising to almost unbearable levels, when Loghain let out a wordless roar. “Enough!” he shouted, when everyone stopped to look at him. “Whatever I have done, I will answer for later. At the moment, however, I wish to know what this Warden has done with my daughter?”

Alistair actually laughed. “What have we done? We protected her from you, from torture at Rendon Howe’s hands, from a forced sham marriage that would have given Rendon Howe complete control over the throne. She hadn’t been seen since long before we came to town, Loghain.”

“You took my daughter, our Queen, by force, killing her guards in the process. What arts have you employed to keep her? Does she even still live?”

“I believe I can speak for myself. Lords and Ladies of Ferelden, hear me. This Warden has slandered and defamed Ferelden’s greatest hero in a bid to put an imposter on Maric’s throne.”

Theron stiffened, then I saw him irritably rub at his helmet with his hand, the closest to a face-palm he could manage through the metal face shield. Aedan looked at Anora, where she emerged from her hiding place, his excellent acting skills evident as he stared open-mouthed in disbelief. Alistair’s lips moved, and I knew he’d be muttering something about not being surprised she’d betrayed us again. The entire Landsmeet seemed to gasp in shock…or, looking at the outrage on the faces of many of the nobles, perhaps it was disbelief.

Aedan scoffed. “Perhaps, instead of being rescued, you’d have preferred being killed by your father’s lackey or forced into a marriage allowing Rendon Howe to be the real power behind the throne?”

“I know my father. He would never do less than his utmost for the sake of his country, but I needed to know your mind, Warden. You could have proven yourself an ally of Ferelden. It is unfortunate for all of us that you did not.”

“And here I thought you might have some dedication to preserving Cailan’s legacy, Anora,” Alistair drawled, a sneer on his face. “All we have done is to protect my brother’s country from your father’s madness!”

“Cailan was nothing but a fool, a man-sized child. Just because someone means well, does not make him fit to lead, any more than you are!”

Angry muttering was the result of her poorly thought-out comment; I face-palmed as Theron twitched again. Stupid move, Anora. How many times will it take before you realise that bad-mouthing Cailan won’t benefit you?

I knew this farce wouldn’t continue much longer.

Loghain shouted over the grumbling. “Who here can say that Anora is not fit to rule this land? And who can say that this Alistair is? We know nothing of him, save that he may have royal blood. For five years, Anora has been queen...”

Theron finally stepped forward, interrupting Loghain with an outstretched hand. He reached up to remove his helmet even as he began to speak.

“I believe I can answer that question.” He shook his hair out, golden strands falling into place in his signature style; he handed his helmet to Alistair, who took it without hesitation, and immediately knelt. Aedan and Nathaniel also knelt; the rest of us watched, seeing if anyone would make a move towards Cailan. “I am, after all, the king.”

I almost cheered as Anora’s mouth fell open, her face blanching in shock - or horror. Loghain just looked sour, like he smelled something bad. Both continued staring at Cailan, apparently too surprised to react in any other way.

“Lords and Ladies of the Landsmeet. I was rescued at Ostagar by a loyal Fereldan who witnessed Loghain’s withdrawal and came to my aid. I have hidden, ever since, at first to recover from my injuries, and then because I feared for Ferelden should Teyrn Loghain learn of my survival and make another attempt on my life. Alistair, who is indeed Maric’s son and my half-brother, permitted this deception of trying to take the throne to allow me to hide and survive long enough to reach here and speak to you now.”

Slowly at first, but then faster and faster, nobles standing in the Landsmeet began falling to their knees, kneeling to welcome home their reigning monarch. A few, with angry scowls on their faces, looked to Loghain for direction, before reluctantly kneeling. Even the soldiers scattered throughout the crowd, clearly on Loghain’s payroll, slowly took their hands off their weapon hilts before kneeling; finally, relieved, the rest of our party followed suit.

Cailan stepped up beside Anora, shooting her a sardonic smile. “Please stand. I thank you for your welcome home!” The crowd chuckled, and Cailan smiled. “As Loghain said, for five years, Anora has been queen, and a capable administrator she appeared to be. But at the first sign of trouble, before the impact of our loss at Ostagar could even be evaluated, she required a regent to ensure the country remained functional, a regent who immediately began a civil war. A regent who attempted to seize the throne for himself, while Anora did nothing.”

He turned to Anora sadly. “Once, I trusted you. Once, I believed you were infinitely more capable, more deserving of the throne than I ever could be. I’m sorry that you proved me wrong.”

Anora’s face paled even further, if that was possible, and I wondered if she was replaying everything she had said in front of ‘Theron’ back at Eamon’s estate.

She reached her hand out toward him, voice shaky. “Cailan, I-“

He shrugged her hand off his arm, effectively silencing her. He turned back to the crowd. “I am back to regain my Father’s throne, and to rectify the mistakes that have been made in my absence. Do I have the support of the Landsmeet to begin again, to fight for Ferelden?”

There was an overwhelming roar of approval from the Landsmeet, and no one thought to call a proper vote given how clear the support for Cailan was. I wondered how much of that enthusiasm was simple relief that anyone other than Loghain would be in power; it didn’t matter, as long as they’d follow him.

When the noise died down, Cailan turned back to his father-in-law. “Teyrn Loghain, I may have been able to rationalise your withdrawal at Ostagar - losing the entire army to save the King, as I recall, was something my father explicitly forbade you from repeating - though as one woman proved, all was not nearly as hopeless at Ostagar as you seemed to believe. I can overlook that mistake. However, the other things you have done, before and since - allowing Rendon Howe to perpetrate his atrocities, rewarding him for them, poisoning Eamon Guerrin, fomenting rebellion in the Circle of Magi, beginning a civil war, trying to have the remaining Wardens assassinated - those I cannot conscience.

“My Lords and Ladies, the Teyrn has perpetrated treason against the entirety of Ferelden. In light of my prolonged absence, I would ask your support in declaring him guilty, and sentencing him to be hung by the neck until dead at dawn tomorrow.”

Anora gasped and recoiled, while Loghain, mouth still agape at Cailan’s unveiling, looked around the room for support, and, not seeing any, slowly slumped to his knees in defeat. The Landsmeet, now all back on their feet, muttered amongst themselves, but it was easy to see that, at least in this matter, Cailan would not lack support. Alfstanna was the first to speak.

“I, for one, agree wholeheartedly with the sentence. Waking Sea votes guilty. And may I say: welcome home, Your Majesty.”

Cailan smiled and nodded, blushing slightly. The rest of the nobles began hurriedly adding in their agreement, none of them wanting to be seen as colluding with Loghain. Even Ceorlic, the snake I knew was attached firmly by the lips to Loghain’s ass, voted guilty. Loghain slumped even further, not even deigning to make his speech from the game, seeming to understand that not even his own men stood with him.

When the last vote was cast, Cailan glanced around, sharing nods with Aedan and Alistair, before turning back to Loghain.

“Very well. Loghain, by decree of this Landsmeet, your title and lands have been stripped, your property forfeit to the Crown. You will be held in Fort Drakon overnight, and at dawn, hung from the city gates until dead.”

“No!” cried Anora, but Cailan waved her off again as she rushed over to her father.

“Your Majesty,” a voice rang out, and everyone shuffled to look around as Duncan stepped forward. “If I may? I have a suggestion.”

Cailan nodded, as Duncan knelt in front of the dais Cailan shared with a thunderstruck Anora and a defeated Loghain. “I am Duncan, Commander of Ferelden’s Grey Wardens,” he announced, for the benefit of those who might not know. “The Blight is the gravest threat in Ferelden at present, and will require everything that we Wardens and our allies can throw at it. It seems a waste to sentence this man, once a brilliant general and a capable soldier, to death, when his skills could be used to combat the Blight.”

“What exactly do you propose, Warden Commander?” Cailan was doing an admirable job of looking surprised and disapproving. Aedan and Alistair were also demonstrating their acting abilities, looking incensed as though they hadn’t known this very thing would happen.

“Allow him to join the Grey Wardens, your Majesty. There, his expertise can be put to good use, and there are… compelling reasons to have as many Grey Wardens in Ferelden as possible.”

“Yes!” Anora cried. “Use his skills, Cailan. The Joining itself can be fatal, can it not? And if he survives, a life spent dedicated to fighting darkspawn would be a better purpose than hanging. Surely even your need for revenge would be satisfied by that?”

Cailan stared at Duncan for a few moments, then shifted his gaze to Loghain. For his part, the disgraced former Teyrn knelt upright, meeting Cailan’s eyes for the first time, acceptance written on his face. He was sure, I suspected, that nothing would sway Cailan from his justice, and he accepted his pending death with grace. I have to respect him for that, even if only a little.

Cailan turned back to Duncan, gesturing for him to stand. “Warden Commander, I will acquiesce to your request on two conditions.”

Now my interest was piqued; this hadn’t been what we’d discussed at all. I was only aware of one. What other condition could Cailan possibly want to impose? I stepped forward unconsciously, watching as Aedan and Alistair exchanged confused glances.

“Name them, your Majesty, and if they are within my power, they will be done.” Duncan smirked slightly, and it was clear he had at least guessed, if not known, what would be said.

“I will not tolerate this traitor in my country, Grey Warden or no. So my first condition is that, should he survive the Blight, Loghain will be transferred out of Ferelden, and never allowed to return. If he lives through the Blight, which I very much hope he does not,” he said this with a glare sent Loghain’s way, and the former Teyrn winced, “your order will remove him from my borders.”

Riordan stepped forward, removing his helmet. “I am Riordan, Grey Warden of Jader, your Majesty.” Cailan nodded. “I pledge that, should he survive, I will take Loghain back to Jader when I leave, where he can live the rest of his life protecting Orlesians from darkspawn.”

There was a muffled gasp followed by some outright laughter, as Loghain stirred himself to object; he took one look at Cailan’s face, and settled again, scowling.

“That seems most fitting, Riordan, thank you.” Cailan smirked, then turned back to Duncan. “My second condition is that, regardless of whether your new recruit survives, when the Blight is over, you, or other members of your order, will escort my former wife outside of Ferelden’s borders, ensuring she arrives safely at her new home. Somewhere in Nevarra, I should think, or possibly even the Anderfels - we can make arrangements for the location once the Blight has ended. I cannot trust the men formerly under Loghain’s command until they have been evaluated, and I would not have her slip away to cause more difficulty.”

Duncan nodded, reluctantly; there was a pregnant pause as everyone seemed to be watching the drama with bated breath. Anora stepped towards Cailan again, arms out, expression devastated, one tear artfully flowing down her cheek. “Cailan, no. With you back, both of us together…we can fix this. We can make Ferelden strong again. You need me! I can-“

“No, Anora. You had your chance. You have shown me, clearly, how I have failed Ferelden and my father’s memory; I will work to fix my own mistakes. I thank you for your service to Ferelden for the five years before the Blight, but we are through.” Cailan turned back to the crown again, looking up toward the little balcony where the withered prune stood.

“Grand Cleric, your Grace, I, Cailan Theirin, the King of Ferelden, petition you to allow me to put aside Anora Mac Tir, and eventually, Maker-willing, find another queen to rule at my side.”

“On what charge do you make your petition, your Majesty?”

“That she is barren, your Grace. Ferelden will need a royal heir.” Anora gasped, but no one else even looked surprised.

“And do you have a new bride chosen at this time?”

“No, your Grace. The Blight is my priority.”

“Then I suggest you choose one soon, your Majesty. Very well, your petition is granted. Cailan Theirin, Anora Mac Tir, your marriage is now annulled. Your Majesty, please attend me at the Cathedral as soon as possible to sign the requisite documents.”

“No! This cannot happen!” Anora shouted. “I am the Queen! You need me, Cailan!”

Cailan nodded to the Grand Cleric, then turned to Riordan. “Could I ask you and some of your Wardens to escort the former Queen to her chambers? She will be kept on house arrest until her departure.”

Riordan nodded, and between him, Dougal, and Conrad, they attempted to grab the sobbing woman, but Anora, pulling herself together, shook off their hands and, spine straight, posture stiff, strode out of the chamber. Loghain followed, dejectedly.

Cailan waited until the doors swung shut behind her before turning back to the Landsmeet and clapping his hands.

“Now, to the other business. Lords and Ladies, in the absence of a royal heir, I would like to begin with the matter of the succession….”

By the end of the Landsmeet, Alistair had been recognised as a Prince of Ferelden, worthy of the title ‘your Highness’, even though he was a Grey Warden; Cailan requested Duncan’s approval, and vowed to speak with the First Warden in the Anderfels after the Blight to smooth the waters. As an extension of that, I was recognised as Alistair’s wife, with Cailan as a witness to the marriage. It made me a princess, much to my horror, and the laughter of those near enough to hear my outraged denial at the announcement. Alistair was named as Cailan’s heir, until such a time as Cailan had heirs of his own, with Fergus Cousland next in line should both Theirins die during the Blight.

Highever was formally returned to the Cousland family, but would be held in trust by the Crown until such a time as Fergus was found, as Aedan declared himself too busy to function as temporary Teyrn. The Arling of Denerim was left vacant, for now, to be administered by the Crown as well, and the Arling of Amaranthine was officially granted to Nathaniel Howe.

In light of the empty Teyrnir of Gwaren and the destruction of so much land in the south by darkspawn, Gallagher Wulff, former Arl of West Hills, was granted the Teyrnir. Two of his sons had already perished, but he yet had a daughter and a third son, so his succession was secure.

Soldier’s Peak was formally given by the Grey Wardens to the Crown, Duncan declaring that it was in recompense for the Wardens taking part in the rebellion in the time of Sophia Dryden; Cailan immediately leased it back for their use, though he pledged Crown money to ensure it was renovated as befitted a major military installation inside Ferelden. His condition for the Wardens being allowed to use it was that it would be administrated by a member of the Ferelden nobility - someone with business experience, but no land of their own, someone related to the King.

I was completely stunned when he turned to me, and named me as the Steward of Soldier’s Peak. He assured me that after the Blight would be soon enough to take up those responsibilities, and that help would be found to allow me to learn my role. He assured me that I would not have to issue judgements or sentences for criminals or the like, that I would swear fealty to the Teyrn of Highever, and that any judgements needed would be the responsibility of the Teyrn.

Alistair looked as thunderstruck as I, but Aedan just smirked. I’m going to kill him. Later.

He also informed the Landsmeet that, after the Blight, the Wardens would be stationed in and around Amaranthine, with Nathaniel’s approval, until Soldier’s Peak was ready for occupation.

In many ways, it was like watching Sereda manage the Assembly in Orzammar. He used everyone’s shock and relief that someone was taking charge to his advantage, managing to pass motions that otherwise would likely have taken days or months to debate. I was intensely proud of Cailan; he had clearly been plotting for a long time what he would do when he took back the throne.