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Feast

It is a special day, in the city of Orzammar. For one man, especially. It is a day of celebration for the second son of King Endrin Aeducan. Despite his physical... issues, he's been made Orzammar's newest commander. Tomorrow, there will be quite a lot of bloodshed. But tonight is for Stalas Aeducan. Not only is there a feast in his honor, but Provings, as well. It's his day, one of honor, but also his formal presentation to the heads of houses.

The merchants have even been allowed into the Diamond Quarter, a rare treat they only see on special occasions. They're probably regretting it, by now, after trying to talk to some of the dwarven nobles and tackle their very particular brand of pride, but it's a chance to win over the highest class, instead of hoping they deign to notice the Merchant Caste.

Regardless, today is certainly a day to remember. Possibly for the wrong reasons.

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"I just came from the shield chamber, Father," says Stalas, pointing back down the tunnel. "We heard sounds of battle as we approached, and then we found... what you see." He sounds shaken. Genuinely distraught. He is. He didn't like Trian, but he was still kin.

"Father," says Bhelen. "I'm - I'm sorry, I should have stressed that we go faster, we could have saved him -"

The king interrupts him with a wave, and looks at Stalas gravely. "My son, I see my firstborn son dead, with my secondborn hiding in the shadows. Tell me this isn't what it looks like."

Edited 2014-10-27 00:59 (UTC)

"Bhelen," Stalas growls. "I wished with all my soul I could believe it wasn't you. I should have fucking known better. How long have you been working on this one, brother? Would I find your signet ring if I searched those mercenaries," he waves back down the tunnel again, "or did you steal Trian's ahead of time? No, it must have been his, you may be a lying sack of shit but I will never accuse you of being stupid." He finds that his fists are clenched and no amount of pain can motivate him to unclench them. "Fuck you, Bhelen. Step out the gate and fall into the sky. The Stone doesn't want you. May your life go down in history as that time the King of Orzammar was cuckolded by a deep stalker and didn't find out until the spawn had almost oozed its way to the throne. You make me sick."

Bhelen opens his mouth to answer, but the king cuts him off.

"Stalas. Please. I will not condemn you without evidence. And I do admit, it's suspicious, certainly," he says.

"My lord is innocent!" growls Gorim.

"Ser Gorim," sighs Harrowmont, "I'm sorry, but your loyalty to Stalas makes you a poor witness. Lord Aeducan, relate your side of the story, please."

Stalas takes a deep breath and tries to calm down.

"Last night," he says, burning glare still focused on Bhelen, "he took me aside to 'warn' me that he thought Trian might be moving against me in some fashion. When my scouts and I arrived at the secret door a short while ago, it was open and the chamber beyond was full of dead darkspawn and live armed men. I tried to negotiate with their leader, to find out how he acquired the means to open the door, but he refused to be convinced and chose to attack us instead. The four of us," he indicates himself, Gorim, and the scouts, "fought them and won. Then we came back here. Just as we were approaching this chamber, we heard the sound of dwarves fighting and dying, then nothing. When I came close enough to see who it was—"

He shakes his head sharply and unclenches a hand to wipe tears from his eyes.

"The whole scene stank. It would have taken too incredible a coincidence for Trian to have sent mercenaries to harass me and then fallen to an ambush himself, let alone for that to happen just as I arrived. And the only reason someone would arrange for him to die just before I found him," he returns his glare to Bhelen, "would be if they meant someone else to come along moments later and find me standing over the body. Which is why I'm all the way back here."

Harrowmont nods. "I see. Thank you. You there, scout, do you corroborate Lord Aeducan's story?"

The scout looks nervously at Stalas, and scoots away from him a little. "I - promise me you'll grant me sanctuary if he should be found innocent -"

"... Granted. Proceed."

"Trian and his men were here early. They'd finished their battle with the darkspawn, and they were tired and weary and wounded. Lord Aeducan - he walked up all friendly-like, but when he got close - it was him, him and his second, they fight like maniacs!"

"He lies," Stalas says wearily. "Not that I expected anything different at this point."

"A valid point. The man is low born and could be easily bought," agrees a lord.

"Frandlin Ivo, you are a good and noble man. Does the scout speak truth?" asks another.

"... Yes, my lord. It was terrible. Prince Trian didn't stand a chance. Afterwards, my lord stripped his Aeducan signet ring, and left it instead of his with the mercenaries. They'd betrayed him, when they heard what he was planning to do to Prince Trian. Even mercenaries have some honor."

"You treacherous bastard!" roars Gorim. "You think that snake cares anything about you?! He'll betray you in a heartbeat, like he just did with Prince Stalas!"

"Silence, Gorim," sighs the king wearily.

Stalas flicks a contemptuous glance at Ivo.

"You are honourless scum," he says, quietly but clearly, "and when you return to the Stone it'll be a wonder if the whole mountain doesn't fall in."

"There is no proof that he's honorless, my son," says the king gravely. "And as much as I'd like to believe you, I - don't believe this is my decision any longer. You will need to stand trial. You and Bhelen both."

"Fine," he says. "But I've no doubt my brother has already bought half the Assembly. You'd never leave a thing like that to chance, would you, Bhelen?"

Bhelen is silent.

"Bind Stalas and Gorim both," says Lord Harrowmont, gravely. "We are returning to Orzammar.

The first thing Stalas is introduced to is a cell. A nice one, as far as cells go, but a cell, nonetheless.

He sits down and closes his eyes and leans against a wall. Fuck it all, if he'd just realized sooner that Bhelen was double-crossing him - of the two of them, Trian might have been likelier on the face of it to want Stalas eliminated, but Bhelen was likelier to actually pull it off... too late now. Regrets can't bring back the dead.

No, they can't. Nor, it seems, can they help the living.

Both Stalas and Gorim are found guilty.

But they are kind enough to let Gorim visit him.

"My lord," he says. "I'm - I would have come sooner, had they allowed it."

"Tell me the bad news," he says, creaking to his feet and approaching the bars. He doesn't bother hiding his bruise-blackened palms.

"Bhelen's taken Trian's place in the Assembly. I - don't think I need to expand on how that went. He must have been making deals and alliances for years."

"I can picture it vividly," Stalas agrees. "Ugh. So what's it to be?"

"Exile. For us both. My knighthood will be stripped, my name stricken from the family records - but I may live on the surface." He winces. "... Lord Harrowmont moves for a similar exile for you, but Bhelen's supporters overwhelmed him. You're to be sealed in the Deep Roads."

He shudders. "There to be eaten by darkspawn, right. I'd almost prefer a nice clean assassination. Do I get a weapon, or are they afraid I'll sneak back up and stab him with it?"

"Sword and shield. It would be a warrior's death, but - listen, it doesn't have to be."

"...Go on."

"Lord Harrowmont gave me access to see you so I could give you this."

He slips a tiny piece of paper to Stalas. "It's a map of the nearby deep roads. Not a perfect one, not finished, just a copy. I'd managed to persuade a servant to make a trip to the Shaperate for it, but he didn't have time for it all. But we all know the deep roads have other exits to the surface besides Orzammar's. If you can find those, you can get out, and then there's nothing the Assembly can do about it."

"...That's a hell of a thin line to hang my hopes from," he says, closing his hand around the scrap of paper. "But - thank you, Gorim. You're a better man than I deserve."

"Not half as much as you deserve, my lord. If anyone can climb out of the depths from a rope the width of spider silk, it's you."

Stalas grins. "Hey, some of those spiders spin pretty thick webs," he says. "...Take care of yourself up there, all right?"

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