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Post by mousestalker on Aug 4, 2016 4:42:30 GMT -6
Why had she spared him?
A much as he considered it, he couldn't figure it out. She was a complete mystery to him. He had entered the Landsmeet reasonably confident that he could defeat this challenge. Yet he had lost the vote in an overwhelming fashion then been defeated in personal combat. This elf had somehow won over his own daughter, married her to the only known bastard of Maric's and assembled an army to replace the one he was blamed for losing.
Where did she come from? Who was she? And why was he still alive? If he had won all that would have been left of her was yet another bloodstain on the Landsmeet chamber floors. He hated mysteries. This one made no sense. The only solution he could see was the direct approach. Even if she lied, he would at least learn something. Even her face seemed vaguely familiar, as if he had seen similar a very long time ago.
“Why did you spare me?”
She turned and looked at him. She did not look especially triumphant. Her eyes were hollowed, her face pale and her cheeks sunken. She was running on determination alone.
“I needed you. I knew if you became a Grey Warden, then you would see the Archdemon. Knowing that there is an intelligence directing the Darkspawn could only help commit you to this fight. I needed your mind. I'm no general. I need someone to command in the coming battle. I needed your soldiers. If I had killed you, many would have deserted. With you here, they will go willingly to their deaths. Do you really think Ser Cauthrien and her ilk would ever fight for me?”
“Ah, you made the expedient choice.”
“Yes. I only hope the price wasn't too high. You cost me Alistair.”
“Yes, well, you will thank me for that, later.”
A spasm of annoyance crossed her face. “Leaving aside the personal aspects, Alistair is a very good soldier with full templar training. Darkspawn flock to him wherever he goes, which is a very handy talent. You have a fine strategic and tactical mind, but you do not have his presence. And Darkspawn emissaries will eat you alive.”
“The emissaries are their mages?”
She nodded. “Wynne and Morrigan can help against them, but losing Alistair makes us even more vulnerable to magic. I'd grab a Circle mage but they have an unholy love of the Fireball spell. They do not play well with others.”
“I can certainly attract attention, if that is what you need.”
“Good. We will be in the van. I need to front load our strength against the horde. We have exactly four Grey Wardens. Riordan wants to die, so he will likely want to do some solo scouting, then try to kill the Archdemon.”
“Riordan wants to... die?”
“He Joined with Duncan. Duncan was already hearing his Calling at Ostagar. Much time has passed since then so I rather doubt that Riordan is thinking very coherently. He accepted Howe's hospitality, bigfooted his fellow wardens at the Landsmeet and withheld vital information. I'd like to think that the Taint has rendered him foolish than believe that he has always been an idiot.”
Loghain looked at her. He remembered her being blunt. She had called Cailan a fool at Ostagar. The bitterness was new though.
“Why did you call Cailan a fool?”
She laughed. “He wanted to tear down the Alienage walls. He meant well, but he really didn't understand that the only reason we weren't wiped out was that we could close the gates to the mobs. We would die as a people if we were scattered and isolated the way he wanted. Not to mention I knew nothing would come of it. Humans promise us many things and never deliver.” She was looking straight at him when she said that. He knew there had to be a story behind it.
She continued. “Back to the work at hand. When we get to Denerim, Riordan leads the way and dies nobly. I'll take my companions and certain small groups from the army. We'll converge on the Archdemon and try to kill it. Meanwhile, you'll be at the gates with the rest of the army. I expect it will be well strung out on the march, so your forces will grow as time passes. When you think it's big enough or if we fail and the Archdemon moves to the offensive, you'll fight the main battle. Alistair will be bringing up the rear as king and will have to take over when we die.”
He noticed she didn't say 'if'. “What do you think our chances are?”
“If anyone else had asked, I would lie and say 'pretty good'. As is, I have no hope of Riordan doing anything. If I get the forces I want and can force a fight on the ground, I have a one in twenty shot at success. You have perhaps a one in four chance. Alsitair has an excellent shot at fighting a rear guard action. He has the highest chance of survival. Make your peace with the Maker, I do not expect either of us to survive.”
He nodded. She was a bit more of an optimist than he was, but her plan was the best chance they had.
They both remained silent for a while, lost in their own thoughts.
She cleared her throat. “It's late. You need some rest. I'll be up for a while yet, but I need some privacy for now.”
Loghain rose and left without saying anything more. He heard a heated discussion between the elf and her witch companion, Morrigan, the one who reminded him so strongly of Flemeth from many years ago. He thought back to the days of his youth and the Rebellion, when he and Maric were the closest of friends. For some reason he thought of the Night Elves. Odd that. He slept.
The march to Denerim passed as a blur of tired men pushing themselves to the point of collapse.
When the van of the army neared the gates, Riordan called for a meeting and gave a little pep talk.
Kallian motioned for Loghain. He joined her to the side of the group, just out of earshot.
“I have a favour to ask. I have a parcel with several letters in them. If I fall and you survive, will you deliver them?”
“Have you changed your mind about our odds?”
“No. But I will die behind enemy lines, as it were. You will die in the midst of our army. Further, the letters will only have meaning if anyone survives. If you strike the killing blow, then they will be found and likely delivered. If the Archdemon wins, then it won't matter. Will you do this?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
That was the last he ever saw of her.
--0--
After the battle, in the wreckage of a once proud city, Loghain collapsed in the confort of a bed not his own and thought of the package. He opened it and found letters addressed to himself, Anora, Alistair, each of her companions and to Cyrion, Soris and Shianni Tabris. The last three were tied loosely together. For some reason it was difficult to think of her as having family. The letter to himself was the thinnest. The one to Alistair was the thickest and the one to Cyrion Tabris was the heaviest. As it clinked when he shook it, it had to have money inside. “Father or husband?”, he wondered.
Loghain opened the letter addressed to himself.
“Loghain,
You survived. Congratulations. You asked why I let you live. I didn't answer you fully then, so here is the full response. I hate waste. I have killed many men and I regret almost all of them. I have killed many darkspawn and I regret none of them. The first time I killed someone I wound up killing thirty six men and three mabari in one day. I do not know all their names, but I can see each and every one of their faces. I regret killing thirty two of the men and all of the dogs. Maybe it is a weakness, but I have no joy in being a dealer of death. So I spared your life and lost the love of the only human man I've ever cared for.
My only hope in this is that I somehow died well enough that my people will finally have a hero of their own.
Alistair is no Cailan. They have similar senses of humour. You know better than I if that is a Theirin trait or not. However, Cailan came across as a well intentioned man who had been spoiled as a child. Alistair also means well, but he has had a hard upbringing and has great depths of inner strength as a result. He also has a phenomenal work ethic.
My best advice to you is to stop thinking of yourself as being irreplaceable. Also, you have a future ahead of you, however brief it may be. Rebuilding the Grey Wardens will be a challenge and one I think you are well qualified to do.
Here's some further advice. If you and Anora have a weakness in common, it is intelligence. I do not mean cleverness. The Archdemon surprised everyone at Ostagar. It out thought our commanding general: You. Until we assembled at Eamon's for the Landsmeet you never were able to locate either Alistair or myself. As Maric's bastard, Alistair was a threat to Anora. He should have been a priority. We were able to kill both of your ambassadors to the dwarves (Gainey seemed decent enough, but Imrek was a complete ass). More to the point I was able to gather a large army under your nose. I had your operation pretty well infiltrated from early on. Hiring competent spies is always a good thing. My letter to Anora includes detailed advice on what to do in that regard.
Kallian Tabris
PS Elves make excellent Grey Wardens. And spies.
PPS You won't have any luck recruiting any good ones, though.
PPPS You probably will want to speak with Erlina before you head to the Alienage. And take a bodyguard when you go.”
He smiled at her boast in the first postscript and then frowned at the last two.
--0--
The next morning he readily fell into his new role as postman. Delivering Anora's letter was easy enough. His daughter opened the letter in front of him and began to read. Her face was serious as she began, then she smiled. When she reached the second page she turned a bright scarlet. Alarmed, he reached for the pages. She moved her hands out of the way and said, quietly, “This part is... marital advice, and very...personal.” She skimmed the next few pages rapidly, placed three of them to the side for later and resumed reading the last two.
“I'm sorry I never really had a chance to talk at length with her” Anora said. “Her political advice was quite sound. Why would she be so blunt?”
“She knew she was going to die. I doubt she thought she had anything to lose.”
After an awkward silence, Loghain said goodbye to his daughter and left.
Giving Alistair his letter was simple. He marched into Alistair's room, said “Here, this is for you”, thrust the very thick letter into the surprised king's hands and left. As Loghain walked down the ruined hallway he heard the unmistakable sounds of a grown man wracked by grief.
The companions were even easier. They were camped in the remnants of a noble's kitchen. He handed the letters over to Wynne for distribution and left.
That left three and the curious suggestion that he speak with his daughter's Orlesian maid.
--0--
Finding Erlina was easy enough. Getting her to speak with him privately was trickier. They had never been comfortable together, but he now realized that she was positively skittish whenever she was near him. When had that started?
“Do you know the late Grey Warden's family?”
She looked surprised, thought and then replied “Yes, my lord, I do. Her father is the new hahren, the leader of the Alienage. Of course, he will not speak with me, but I do know who he is.”
“Won't speak to you? Why not?”
Erlina looked uncomfortable. “The Alienage elves know I serve your daughter, my lord.”
“Why is that a problem?”
“The Grey Warden, she recovered these documents. Documents in your handwriting allowing the sale of the elves to the Tevinters. She had them copied and posted them on the Vhenadahl, the great tree, in the centre of the Alienage. She also sent them to all the hahrens in Ferelden in all the Alienages and I have heard to the Dalish as well. This she did before the Landsmeet.”
“Ah. Thank you Erlina.”
She curtsied and rapidly departed.
It appeared that delivering these would be difficult. He looked again at the top letter. Beneath the name 'Cyrion Tabris' were straight forward directions to his house. The other two letters both had notes that they could be safely left with Cyrion Tabris. This Cyrion Tabris then was her father.
--0--
The walk across the market bridge was quite nice. The Drakon River had emptied itself of most of the sewage and was running less brown and muddy than before. Most of the darkspawn stench was gone and not yet replaced by the more familiar Ferelden scents of wet dog and garbage.
The gates to the Alienage were open and unguarded. Loghain became aware that he was being followed. Behind him, at about a hundred paces stood Ser Cauthrien. He smiled sourly. Now there was one whose service he did not deserve. He walked on.
Ahead, one elf saw him approach, gasped and spoke to his fellows. Loghain had expected to be mobbed. Instead, the Alienage cleared. By the time he passed the gates, not an elf was in sight. All doors were closed and all windows were closed. He knew that hundreds of eyes were watching his progress.
He walked to the door, knocked and waited patiently.
An elven woman with bright red hair opened the door. “You are not welcome here. Leave. We have had enough trouble.”
Behind her an older man approached “Shianni, who is at the ...”
Loghain cleared his throat. “Are you Cyrion Tabris? I have a letter for you”
“I am Cyrion Tabris, General. What's this about a letter?”
Loghain handed over the letters from Kallian to him. Again he had that nagging spark of familiarity.
“I'm just Loghain, I'm no longer a general.”
“Thank you for the letters. I knew you as General and so, I'm afraid I always think of you.” Seeing the former Teyrn's expression, the elf added, “Both my wife and myself served under you in the Night Elves. Thank you again for the letters, but Shianni is right. It would be best if you left.”
Loghain remembered. Cyrion and Adaia had been inseparable. They had been two of his best scouts.
“My regards to Adaia, then”
“My wife is dead.”
For the first time in thirty years Loghain Mac Tir fled in full retreat.
--0--
Epilogue
From 'Collected Writings of Early Liberated Ferelden' by Mathis Genitivi
“Many scholars disagree as to whether the Kallian Epistles were really written by Kallian Tabris. We do know they were published after King Alistair's death and towards the end of Queen Anora's reign. They purport to be a letter from Kallian Tabris to Alistair Theirin. The Epistles cover Queen Anora's personal habits, likes and dislikes, King Alistair's sexual techniques (with helpful suggestions), a plea for elven rights, a handbook to successful domesticity and a guide to political realities. From the time of their original publication, the Kallian Epistles have both been banned in whole or in part and been wildly popular.
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