by Milton Garby
"How large a force did you bring?" Sten asked.
"We had over two hundred Wardens, two divisions of cavalry and two thousand foot soldiers."
Aedan was surprised that the Wardens of Orlais took the Blight seriously, perhaps it was because should Ferelden fall to the darkspawn Orlais would be next on their menu. He was also pretty aggravated that they had lost a potential army to use against the Archedemon.
"Are these your missives, then?" Alistair handed him the Warden sealed documents.
"Yes. Copies of the Joining rituals and a manifest of our relics and ingredients for the Joining itself."
"So we can induct more Wardens to combat the Blight?" Alistair asked hopefully.
"I wish it were so, but alas. Howe has already raided our headquarters in this city and I doubt we have time to find new recruits before the Blight makes it here."
"You know about the Blight's approach?"
"Yes." Riordan answered grimly. "As a Senior Warden I can sense the darkspawn's approach. But from what I've heard from Arl Howe's rants, it sounds like you've done a good job of gathering an army to face it."
"Where is Howe?" Aedan asked dangerously.
"I saw him make his way down into the dungeons below." Riordan answered dourly. "No doubt indulging whatever dark vice is striking his fancy at the moment. Some of the people he drags down I believe may be a threat to him and Teryn Loghain."
"I'd suggest getting out of here and find some help for those wounds, old man." Aedan recommended. "Go to Arl Eamon's estate. You'll find help there."
"Thank you. And good luck, brothers." Riordan baded as he limped out the door.
As they entered the dungeons they found more soldiers in there, but these ones were better equipped and better trained. It wasn't going to help them. "Alright, password." The sergeant in the room said. Aedan gave him a sadistic grin then jabbed his fingers up, under his jaw then grabbed the back the asshole's teeth and ripped his whole jawbone off!
"Ouuuaaaghhh!"The sergeant shrilled as he fell flat on his back, bleeding profusely from his lower head with his tongue flailing like a worm on a hook! Many more soldiers poured into the dungeon to face the intruders, all heavily armed and, apparently, all veteran fighters. These must have been Howe's elite and most trusted soldiers. There were about thirty of them against the Warden's and his companions, it was almost unfair…for the soldiers.
Oghren and Sten charged in with their hammer and greatsword, cleaving and crushing anyone in their way. Leliana fired precise shots into eyes and hearts of every soldier she looked at, while Zevran glided through the heavily armed soldiers as sliced their tendons punctured their arteries. Wynne tapped into the fade and conjured a massive puddle of oily grease that tripped five soldiers off their feet, Morrigan completed the magical attack by setting them on fire, and filled the air with pained screams and the smell of burnt flesh. Alistair charged forward with his shield, blocking the enemy's attacks and expertly thrusting his sword into their bodies like a pin cushion.
The enemy's numbers were dwindling, and Aedan was the most fearsome. These men's lives were nothing to Aedan. Whatever reason they were here, whatever conviction they lived by didn't matter. They were…simply in his way, and he would swat them life flies. Aedan charged forward at the men in front of him, screaming in anger. The first one he sliced in half at the waist. The next one tried to stab him with a thrust attack, but Aedan glanced it to the side and crushed the man's windpipe with his elbow. Two more advanced at The Warden with their swords raised. Aedan swung the hammer head at both men with such incredible force and speed the neither men could block or evade it when it swung against their heads and snapped their necks at a sickening angle.
The last one bore the rank of captain on his breastplate. Aedan could see the fear pulsating from the little man as he felt the entropic energies of the painful deaths he inflicted fuel him. The man was so scared his sword shook uncontrollably in his grip. The captain choked back a sob when Aedan got so close to him he could smell the piss trickling down his leg. He lowered his sword and looked at the murderous Warden pleadingly. "Please. Please!" he begged.
"No." Aedan answered bleakly, and raised the Bear's Maul high above his head and brought it bearing down on his final victim. The axe head split the man from crown to crotch in twain. Aedan smiled to himself as he watched the two halves of the man fall apart and his innards fell to the ground.
Aedan took Morrigan, Wynne, and Leliana with him to inspect these cells and perhaps free the prisoners if they were unjustly held. The first they encountered was a man dressed in sack cloth in his middle years. He was muscular and several sword scars across his body which would indicate him as a warrior, but the miserable look on his face and the tears in his eyes suggested otherwise. "Maker, have mercy on you humble servant." The prisoner begged. Aedan realized that he had met this man before.
"Irminric?" Aedan recognized him as Irminric Eremon, the original heir to the Eremon family's bannorn, but he abdicated to join the Templar Order. They had met a few times in Denerim when he was a young boy so he doubted Irminric remembered him.
At the mention of his name Irminric looked up to see who was calling him. "Alfstanna?" He asked hopefully. His hopes were dashed when he saw a son of Highever rather than the Bann of Waking Sea. "I…I do not know you. Who are you?"
"It's me, Aedan Cousland." He informed the weeping Templar. "We last met when Arl Urien held that tournament when your sister won the archery contest."
"I-I do not know you." Irminric replied. "I am knight-lieutenant Irminric of the Denerim Chantry. I was sent to find the blood mage at Redcliffe, he destroyed his phylactery…I was to arrest him but the teryn's men found us…." Irminric began sobbing hysterically before he could end his rant.
This story sounded familiar. "The blood mage, was his name Jowan?" Aedan asked.
"Yes!" Irminric sobbed.
"The poor man is in lyrium withdrawal." Wynne informed with sympathy in her voice. "He must've been here for months. It's a surprise he's not dead yet."
"So this is this is what the compassionate Chantry does to its own military arm." Morrigan mocked with both disdain and amusement. "Now it makes since why Alistair was trained as a Templar, weeping and whining are what he does best."
"Quit adding to the poor boy's torment." Wynne scolded. "He is in great pain from the lack of lyrium in his system and Maker knows what else the Arl has done to him."
"Oh, the poor soul." Leliana cooed. "He has been brought down here to suffer for doing his duty." Steel entered her green eyes. "If the Grand Cleric knew of this she'd be furious! The nobles have no authority over the Templars."
"And if Loghain were to be implicated…." Aedan continued. "Then Chantry and perhaps all of the faithful of Ferelden would lose trust in him."
While they were all talking the poor Templar continued to weep. "We can take you somewhere safe." Leliana said trying to give him comfort.
"Safe? Nowhere is safe." Irminric continued to ramble. "Alfstanna…please…Alfstanna."
"What do you want us to tell Alfstanna?" Aedan asked.
"Please…give…give her my ring." Irminric beckoned. "Tell her to…to pray for me."
The rings was of fine make, yet worn with age. A golden band with a ship's helm on its face also made of gold but in the center was a fine sapphire that had water like carvings on its surface.
With Alfstanna in Denerim they could find her and inform her of the regent imprisoning her brother. In addition to discrediting Loghain with the Chantry they might also have Bann Alfstanna and the might of Waking Sea on their side at the Landsmeet. Seeing as how they couldn't retrieve the Templar in this state without endangering his life they decided to leave him and hope they informed his sister of his whereabouts quickly enough for her to rescue him.
They made over to the next occupied cell. This one had a young elf in it. He seemed to be of Aedan's age, middle-height with spiky brown hair. His eye were somber and filled with despair. He introd
uced himself as Soris and informed Aedan that he was thrown in here for participating in the riots the killed Vaughan Kendells. Aedan had was not willing to let anyone suffer in Howe's dungeon so opened Soris' cell and bade him to leave. Quickly.
Aedan made his way to another cell and found a dirty-faced man close to his age sleeping in a confined cell. He was dressed in tattered nobleman's clothing, and judging from the rank stench of feces and urine coming off of him, he'd been in this cell for a while. Aedan couldn't help but think this man was familiar to him in a manner that reminded him of someone he hated. "Wh-what? Whose there?" The man grunted as he woke. "You can't do this to me! I'll have you all flayed! I am the Arl of Denerim!"
"Right! And I'm the Paragon Aeducan!" Aedan laughed "Arl Urien was killed at Ostagar."
"I'm Vaughn Kendalls!" the man barked. "The rightful heir to Arling of Denerim!"
Aedan remembered him now and why he was loathed to. Urien Kendalls was loyal to the crown and a decent enough man, But Aedan always found Vaughn Kendalls to be as repulsive as a bloated tick and twice as ugly. He remembered what Sanga told him about Vaughn kidnapping those elven women at that wedding. "You...you kidnapped those women at that wedding and forced the elves to riot." Aedan growled.
"So what?" Vaughn snapped. "I'm a noble, I can do what I please with those animals. And when they start thinking they're people they need to be put down like the animals they are."
Aedan recalled that only in the past few decades had the Kendalls stewarded the Arling of Denerim. The original Arls were killed by the Orlesians when they occupied the capital, and Maric only raised the Kendalls to Arls because they were one of the few and most influential noble families left in Denerim. Seeing how Urien utterly failed in teaching this his son any form of honor or character, and there was just no way Aedan could trust the future of his country's capital to a bastard like Vaughn. So he decided to do the only responsible thing. "You know something, Vaughn? I don't think anyone misses you." Aedan's knife found its way into Vaughn's gut. The odious nobleman fell to the ground blood pouring from his bowels as Aedan left him there to ponder his insignificance before he descended into hell.
While Aedan and his group searched the cells, Alistair looked around the various chambers in the dungeon with Oghren, Sten and Zevran. What they had found looked like a horrible marriage between a torture chamber and a personal theatre. There were crows nests filled with bleached skeletons, a wall of spikes with fresh bodies impaled upon them, and people lynched on ropes and chains. There were nail beds and iron maidens with blood crusted on their sharp points. Some of the victims on these terrible instruments were women and children!
The sight of such sadism just made them all want to leave immediately. As they turned to the door Alistair heard a loud cry. "Someone, please, help me!" The plea came from the very back of the room and what they found was a young man on a rack. "Well, don't just stand there!" The poor sod yelled. "Get me out of here! That's an order!" Alistair could tell from that tone this guy was a noble, and he didn't exactly like how this kid was barking orders like that in his position, but seeing as how the lad was having a bad day he could understand why he'd have an attitude problem. Zevran dexterously undid the locks while Alistair carefully sat the torture victim up.
Wow, what did this guy do to get this kind of beating? And for that matter who was he that Howe didn't just kill him? The boy looked a couple of years younger than Alistair, had sandy blonde, a sharp chin and a long nose. His facial hair was scruffy and unkempt, and the bad stench indicated he hadn't bathed in weeks. They noticed his painful injuries. There were deep bruises on the young man's legs, like some went to work on them with a thick rod. Alistair noticed the obvious work of the rack on his arms, they were almost hyper-extended out of their sockets. The most noticeable of his injuries were on his back. His back was practically an open wound of many long gashes and torn flesh, he had been flogged severely. Zevran noticed that instrument used must have been a cat-o-nine-tails, and was meant to cause him great pain rather than kill him. Whoever did this to him knew what they were doing to him.
"Did my father think it was funny to send soldiers after so long?" The boy panted angrily. "Was this supposed to teach me a lesson…King Cailan?" The change in his attitude was immediate. "My lord! Please forgive my insolence. I thought you were dead."
Alistair never realized he looked so much like his dead brother. "No, actually my name is Alistair."
This caught the tortured lad by surprise. "King Maric's bastard? The Grey Warden? Then I have no need to wonder why you are here, it's your supporters that have suffered the most down here."
That's who all of these people are? People who supported the Grey Wardens? What could Howe hope to gain from torturing innocent people, besides a sick, misbegotten laugh from other people's pain? Alistair began to feel his anger peak, is this the kind of advisor Loghain listens too? A man who tortures and murders people for his own pleasure? Should he become king he'll see to it that Howe and his entire family pay for the atrocities that they committed during the war. That would have to wait. He still needed to know who he just rescued. "Who are you anyway, why did Howe have you tortured?"
"I am Oswyn." He introduced. "Son of Bann Sighard of the Dragon's Peak bannorn. One of the soldiers returning from Ostagar was my wet nurse's son, we had been friends since childhood. He told me that his entire unit had been ordered to retreat from the field before King Cailan was overwhelmed." Oswyn explained. "The next day he went missing and I decided to look for him here in Denerim. Then one night I accepted a drink from a stranger and the next thing I know I'm here in torture chamber with Howe laughing at me calling me a traitor!" He started to bend over in pain from trying to yell out. That's when Aedan and his group came back in and they reacted the same way Alistair and his group did when the entered. Wynne went to work at trying to heal the Oswyn's injuries; she stopped his bleeding and closed his injuries but the large bruising on his legs would stay and probably be permanent, hindering his walk, perhaps for the rest of his life.
"Oswyn?" Aedan asked surprised. He recognized Oswyn from tourneys, not as a participant but as a spectator. He had once bet against Aedan and had lost a very healthy amount of gold for it.
"Lord Aedan?" Oswyn responded returning the surprise. "You move in modest company." After giving them the same explanation he had given Alistair, Aedan felt the veins in his temples bulge. Howe was truly a monster, yes, but Loghain shared in these crimes when he rewarded and promoted the man who committed them.
"Loghain grows more ruthless the closer the Landsmeet comes." Aedan hissed.
Osywn looked serious. "Then there is a Landsmeet. Howe said that it was canceled and that Loghain was already proclaimed king. I swear that if the Landsmeet is still going to commence my father will be there to stand up to Loghain and Howe."
After giving him enough healing spells and injury kits they stood him up and he decided to leave as quickly as he could to find his father's estate. After everything they had seen in the short time they've spent in this house, the crimes against the elves, the abduction and torture of those who supported the Grey Wardens, the desecration of those who served Aedan's house, they all knew in their hearts Howe had to die for these crimes. Morrigan looked to Aedan and thought she would see the intense face of a man whose hatred could rival the intensity of all the furnaces in Orzammar. Instead what she saw was more disturbing. Aedan smiled a long, toothy grin that gave off a kind of sick pleasure that Aedan had been waiting almost a year for. Everything he had been through, everyone he had ever killed was was to reach this moment, this man. And at long last he was here. Aedan kicked down the final door right off its hinges, and there he was. Arl Rendon Howe, the Butcher of Denerim.
"Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Bryce Couslands little boy, all grown up and still playing hero." Howe slighted arrogantly, surrounded by several bodyguards and couple of apostates. "I never thought you'de be foolish enough to attack me in my own home, but then I ne
ver figured you'd survive either."
"This will be the last time you are disappointed, I promise you that, Howe." Aedan swore threateningly.
"Oh, is this about your family? Still? But I've done so much more then wipe your wretched family's name from the history books." Howe bragged, "Your brother rots at Ostagar as his Antivan whore of a wife and son burned in a compost heap. I tortured every soul foolish enough to serve in your miserable house in these halls! I made your father watch as your mother kissed my boots. He begged like a dog as I ripped his ring from his finger." Howe flashed the signet ring of Highever set on his hand despicably.
"All these acts of evil so that you can do more evil?" Aedan asked full of revilement. "You weren't satisfied with what you had?"
Howe's scowl was so bitter he could have choked on it. "Your father was a traitor! To me and to his country! He squandered glory that was rightfully mine! Trips to Orlais. Gifts from old enemies. Being showered in reverence and respect while I faded into the shadows!" The butcher remembered hatefully. "Evil? Look where my evil has gotten me! I'll commit every act of evil in existence if it means to get what should have always been mine. I am the most powerful man in Ferelden! Even the great Loghain Mac Tir pays heed to my words! I lowered your family to a mere memory. Your family's name is dirt now because of me." Howe smiled sourly knowing how deep his words would sting.
"AHAHAHAHAH-HAHAHA!" Aedan cackled like madman, disturbing everyone around him. Especially Howe.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS SO FUNNY!?" Howe demanded offended.