War is Never Cheap Here (6/12)
Title: War is Never Cheap Here (6/12)
Authors: cherith & serindrana
Game: Dragon Age: Origins
Pairing: Bann Teagan/Ser Cauthrien
Series Rating: NC-17
Chapter Rating: T
Series Wordcount: 99,400
Chapter Wordcount: 7,583
Warnings: None
Summary: The investigation begins. An evening in the chantry brings up the past. (Ao3) (FF)
Notes: War is Never Cheap Here will be updating weekly, on Fridays. Projected length looking like twelve chapters.
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Chapter Six
Teagan took the letter Cauthrien thrust back at him, disgust at it’s contents clear in her expression. He read it again and nodded, glancing back to the mayor when he finished; the way the letter was written seemed far more possessive than any love letter should be.
He had been only a boy when Ferelden had fought back against the Orlesians. But the passing of time had not greatly improved sentiments towards the Orlesians. The feelings of the vast majority of Fereldans, especially those his age and older, were still poor, frustrated, and unkind. His sister-in-law Isolde was the daughter of the man that held Redcliffe during the occupation; the marriage, understandably, was not well received. The negative attention towards Orlesians had in past years lessened and most people were at least tolerant, but if an Orlesian had killed and taken the body of a local girl, he might have a town of very angry and prejudiced people on his hands.
Teagan let out a frustrated sigh. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention," he said with all the strength he could manage, inclining his head once more to Gerald. After a pause, in which he spared a glance toward Cauthrien, he asked, "Her body is missing?
Orlais had made no threats recently, at least none that he knew of, but one death by Orlesian hands would be all it took to turn Rainesfere against itself in search for one man. The faster the girl was found and the man brought to justice, the better it would be for everyone.
"I will send some guards to search the town for her, and for this... man." Whoever he might be. They had only a note, a language, and an obsession. He pursed his lips, uncertain of how to proceed.
"Do you have so many Orlesians living in Rainesfere?" Cauthrien asked, still frowning just as she had been since she'd been handed the letter. She was intense, focused, and none-too-happy. He remembered clearly her distaste about the language - did it extend to the people, too? Was she so much Loghain's creature?
"No, I do not think so." He looked at Gerald.
Gerald shook his head, "No. However, I do think there are a few that had Orlesian parents... and some knowledge of the language."
Teagan nodded. "Perhaps it might help to look for other letters. If they exist we might find out who the Orlesian is."
"If there are no more notes to be found, it would be faster to simply bring in every Orlesian in the town for questioning." She crossed her arms over her chest, and she was in that moment so very similar to the helmed soldier who had strode into his office the other morning, every inch intimidating duty.
But instead of wanting to frustrate her, this time he agreed with her proposal.
Teagan nodded. "Gerald, can you talk to those you know of and have them sent here to speak with Ser Cauthrien in the morning? I’ll have a guard sent with you." He glanced at Raud, who nodded and went to make arrangements.
"If that’s alright with you?" he asked Cauthrien, voice softer.
She didn't respond, instead turning to Gerald. "Can I be shown where you found the blood and the letter?" she asked. "Just so I can see it for myself." She shot a glance to Teagan only then, questioning, needing support.
"That sounds like a good idea, C- Ser Cauthrien." He bit his lip. Ser Cauthrien. The slip earned him a warning look from the knight, and he squared his shoulders, adding, "The sooner, the better." If they left now, he thought they might still have enough light to see. "Gerald, would you escort us to where the letter was found?"
Teagan gestured at the door across the chamber and started in that direction. He realized he still had the letter in his hands and with only a cursory glance down to it, he folded the parchment and tucked it away.
--
They went on horseback to the the farm where the girl had gone missing. They arrived just as the sun was reaching the horizon, the land drenched in swiftly-dimming red and long shadows from the hedgerow and the buildings. Teagan didn’t make it out to the farms as often as he should, or at least not since he had returned home from Redcliffe - too many other things had needed tending to. As they approached he looked between the farm and Cauthrien as he tried to gauge her reactions and tried to avoid thinking about all the things that could’ve happened to the poor young, Edlyn.
Gerald led them to a small clearing near a cluster of farm buildings and as Cauthrien dismounted, she asked, “Where on the farm was the blood found?" Her eyes were narrowed and she spared barely a glance to Teagan as she tied Calenhad to one of the nearby trees.
He and Gerald followed suit, securing their horses before gathering together so Gerald could point the way. He led them towards the main building and said, "Near the house.
"Edlyn’s family is still rebuilding their home and there are supplies near the house, under a lean-to. Both the blood and the letter were found there."
The house was in various states of disarray: the roof covered in thatching that looked as though it had been patched several times. A front wall was open, beams showing where new construction was taking place. There were several crates piled next to the house, under a haphazardly constructed lean-to covered with an oil-cloth attached to the house.
They stepped around cloth and lumber, tools and roof thatching, into the shadows of the lean-to, and stopped over a more open stretch of earth. The ground Gerald pointed out was covered in dark spots. The mayor sighed as he stepped around the largest of the stained areas and looked to Teagan and Cauthrien. "Right here."
Cauthrien crouched next to it, trailing her fingers along the ground. He saw her look at her hands, clean except for a few specks of dirt. Dry, of course - the blood had been shed during the day and there had been no rain to keep the ground moist. She frowned, peering at the size of the blood stain.
Teagan crouched down beside her, frowning as well and shaking his head.
If an entire person - even a young woman - had bled out there and only there, so as to leave a blood stain of that size- the earth should have felt different. But he watched her dig her fingers into the soil and let the earth fall against her hand. The blood only seemed to have gone in a tiny bit below the surface.
"She didn't die here," Cauthrien said, voice flat and controlled.
Teagan stood, slowly. "It may be more important to talk to those people tonight, Gerald. If she didn’t die here, there’s a chance she’s not dead at all."
He looked to Cauthrien, "Is there a trail? Maybe to at least help us find a direction?"
"I'm not a tracker," she muttered, frowning, but she did move around the edge of the blood spot, eyes fixed on the soil. Her brow furrowed and she seemed to find something, but she stopped only a few feet away from them. "If there is one, I can only follow it to here. It goes north."
She stood fully, turning back to Teagan and Gerald. "Bann Teagan is right; there's no way she died here, and she may have been only incapacitated and carried away. If she is alive, she's lost a lot of blood. We need to talk to those people.
"Bring them to the chantry." It was an order, not a suggestion or an advisement. She sounded as if she were ordering troops, voice firm, words clipped. She fixed the mayor with a level gaze, hands clasped at the small of her back.
Gerald raised an eyebrow at her command and turned his head slowly towards Teagan, looking for some direction. The man’s jaw was set and he looked uncomfortable with taking her order without some indication from him first. Teagan kept his expression firm and gave a quick nod to the mayor, who still looked displeased, but set off towards his horse.
Cauthrien said nothing as the man left and pointedly ignored Teagan's questioning look. When Gerald had set off in the direction of town, though, her shoulders sagged just a little and she walked without a word over to Calenhad.
He followed.
They rode for the chantry, to await the arrival of whomever Gerald sent their way, without a word. to each other. When they finally dismounted at the bottom of the steps leading up into the chantry, it was dark.
Teagan stopped at the door.
During the ride, he had replayed Gerald’s reaction to Cauthrien. He considered how people might react to being questioned by Ser Cauthrien. Was this how he was supposed to be worrying - about he and Cauthrien together? She had suggested as much to him before and he hadn’t listened. Tonight, if she was by his side, was likely to incite people’s fear not only about the things Loghain had ordered done to the Bannorn, but panic of an Orlesian threat.
In the dim light outside the chantry, he tried to get a look at Cauthrien’s face, to read her mood. He had already made one huge mistake that day, he didn’t want to make another.
A bit nervously, he said, "This will have to be handled carefully. I do not want to worry people about an Orlesian threat, needlessly." Slowly, he reached for her hand, just to lay his fingers on her wrist, sighing a little as he touched her. "I just-"
Maker’s breath.
He didn’t know what to say, only that he should say something. Instead, he paused mid-thought, his hand on her arm, looking at her in the early evening moonlight.
Cauthrien didn't pull away from him, but she did look down to where they touched. She seemed to consider, then looked back up to meet his eyes.
"I know the difference between an Orlesian and the Orlesians," she said, the frown her face had settled into sharpening for just a moment. But then she relaxed, touching her dirt-stained fingers to her forehead. "Do you think I'm not fit for this task?" It was a challenge, but wrapped up in that challenge was honest concern, nervousness. "I want to- if I can do this one thing, rescue this girl, I-"
He took a breath and searched for words then closed his mouth, jaw clenching. After another breath, he met her gaze again.
"I think you’re plenty capable. I was just-" Worried. Concerned, and not just for the missing girl. "I’m concerned, that’s all."
He let his hand fall away from her arm and reached for the door, pulling it open. There was a moment where he felt he should say something else- but he shook his head instead and gestured for her to go inside.
"Concerned," she repeated, and her voice was strained, nearly angry, as she brushed past him.
The chantry wasn’t very full. The brazier burned brightly across the hall from the front door but the pews lining the hall were unoccupied. Teagan only saw two people and a Sister conversing at the far end. They would be able to use a room along the hall for their interrogations.
Cauthrien bowed her head, lips moving in a silent, brief prayer, and then took up a spot leaning against the wall where she could see the door.
After the way she had sounded when she had followed him inside, he kept quiet. They stood to the side of the entrance, waiting for Gerald to arrive with at least some if not all of the people that Cauthrien wanted to question. He watched her, biting at the inside of his bottom lip, trying to keep himself from saying something else he didn’t need to. It still felt as though he hadn’t apologized properly for that afternoon, nor had she forgiven him.
And he wasn’t sure that she would forgive him.
He thought about at least asking what her questions would be, when Gerald arrived. If they could talk at all, that would alleviate some of his worry. He did trust her. He trusted the Cauthrien from this morning, from last night. But, he thought he had driven her away. At least it didn’t feel to him like she was that woman standing near him. So he said nothing, unwilling to trust himself to say something that wouldn’t make everything worse while they waited.
When Gerald arrived some time later, he had twelve men with him, of varying ages. Teagan ushered them into one of the back rooms and explained that he and Ser Cauthrien had some questions for them.
--
When she had learned Orlesian, it had been to this purpose: sussing out lies, understanding identities. Catching spies, at the time, or understanding intercepted missives. She fell into her old training.
She started simply, by addressing each one in turn in Orlesian, though the language felt sickly on her tongue, asking basic questions about when they had learned the language and why. A few were barely capable of holding a conversation, and when she determined that it was honest difficulty and not feigned ignorance, she sent them away.
And then she asked for paper, and when it had been brought, had each of them write her a sentence in Orlesian. Half the remaining men were completely illiterate. Those, she also sent home.
That left her with four individuals. Two men of Rainesfere, through and through. One was Orlesian but had come to settle several years ago. One was a traveling merchant, in town for the past two weeks. She asked them all to write her a few more sentences, and then asked them to write down a line or two of poetry that they knew.
It was hard to get the frustration out of her voice. She reminded herself, time and again, that her own mother had sung her lullabies in Orlesian. That her father had sung resistance songs, likewise in the foreign, conquering tongue. The two Rainesfere men - she had no problem with them, except that they reminded her vaguely of her father. The two Orlesians, though- she kept herself on a tight leash, asked only the questions she had planned.
She had told Teagan that she knew the difference between an Orlesian and the Orlesians, but it had been a rough, thin lie. No, sometimes she didn't know the difference - a product of being around Loghain for far too many years.
It was the Rainesfere men who distrusted her the most. The Orlesians both seemed delighted to be able to converse in their native tongue with somebody who was fluent and relatively articulate, no matter her demeanor.
Collecting the writing samples, she looked to Teagan, to see if he had any further questions before she took a moment to read over them. They had little time, it was true, but the writing samples might weed the suspects down still further.
Maker, she could have used some wine at that moment, to wash the taste of Orlesian from her mouth.
As Cauthrien finished, Teagan stepped forward and asked the remaining men where they lived and a few basic questions about their past few days. It was nothing that specifically allowed him to rule any of them out, but it gave them an idea of who would have been near the house or had a chance to meet with Edlyn. They were decent questions.
Cauthrien listened in, leaning back against the wall as she looked over the writing samples. The two Rainesfere men - they were literate, but their spelling in Orlesian was as atrocious as hers in the common tongue, and they excluded small details that the note found earlier had included.
She folded those samples and handed them to Gerald for safe keeping.
The other two- they were completely literate, as she had expected given their speech. What was more useful, however, was that they had differing styles. Neither quite fit the note, but one was closer.
She looked up at the men.
"A girl, Edlyn, is missing," she said in Orlesian, stepping away from the wall and coming back over. She wanted, so badly, to loom. To terrify. But she didn't. She was conversational and as relaxed as she could be.
The merchant shook his head, frowning slightly. The two Rainesfere men scowled and looked immediately to the two Orlesians. The Orlesian who had lived there the longest, however, sat very still and very pale.
"The little flower? She's gone?" he finally breathed, and Cauthrien nodded, slowly.
Well, then. Little flower. Her eyes flicked to where Teagan had tucked the note, then to Gerald.
"Mayor, let the other three go. I believe we only need to talk to monsieur Édouard."
Teagan helped the mayor usher the remaining men out of the chantry, thanking for their time and assuring them there wasn’t an issue they needed to be worried about. She nearly snorted. Did he really think that would keep their curiosity at bay, would stop the rumor mill?
When the rest were gone, Teagan turned back to them and asked Édouard, "How did you know Edlyn?" in the common tongue. She would have preferred to conduct the interview in Orlesian, much to her own surprise - she wanted to get a sense of the man in his native language. But it appeared that Teagan did not trust himself to speak it.
"She asked me to teach her..." Édouard started, voice a little weak, a little worried. "She wanted to know Orlesian."
"Why?" she asked, moving closer to the table he sat at. "Why would a farmer's daughter want to learn Orlesian when the knowledge can gain her nothing?" It didn't seem to hold, not really- though the letter had mentioned seeing her often.
Édouard gave a small shrug. "She thought it was romantic. She wanted to move to Orlais one day."
Romantic.
She fought back the urge to counter that. It didn't matter if the girl had been foolish or not - only if the man before them was lying. He hadn't yet said that he didn't have the girl, and she supposed the lessons... could have made sense.
Teagan nodded a little sadly. "How long have you been teaching her?"
"She asked me not long after I came to Rainesfere."
She took a deep breath. "When was the last time you saw her?" Would admit to seeing her - same thing. "What did she say? Do?"
"A few days ago, she seemed good- normal."
Teagan pressed forward before she could. "Was there anything unusual about the last time you saw her?"
The man shook his head. "There was something... she was upset. Something about her parents. She was to be betrothed." Édouard gave just the barest of amused smiles. "It was a surprise to her and it wasn’t what she wanted."
Cauthrien looked to the mayor. "Why weren't we told this?" she asked, voice sharp, then shook her head, looking back to Édouard.
Teagan looked to Gerald. "Did you know about this?"
The mayor shook his head. "Her parents did not mention it, I can ride back out and talk to them, if you wish?"
"Knowing who she was promised to would be useful, yes." Even Teagan's voice was a barely controlled calm. Cauthrien didn't trust herself to speak again.
"I’ll go." Gerald nodded and then left.
Once the mayor was gone, Teagan turned his attention back on Édouard. "You said it wasn’t what she wanted..."
Why do you constantly turn me away?
It wasn't damning, just as his writing hadn't been damning, but those two things together with little flower- no. No, she didn't trust this man. Cauthrien shifted her weight. Her anxiety had been replaced completely by aggression; she clenched her jaw.
The man smiled, ignoring her for the moment in favor of speaking with Teagan. "I do not know... the little flower, she has always had the grandest ideas. She likes to dream, that one."
The smile was too much and Cauthrien looked to Teagan, expression hard. "Send the guard to search monsieur Édouard's home," she said. It was an order, as firm as the one she had given Gerald.
They didn't have time to waste, after all.
She stepped close to the table, all but slamming her hands down on the wood as she leaned in to peer at the man. "Your little flower of a student is missing, possibly dead, and you're smiling at her dislike of her betrothal?" Her voice dropped dangerously soft. "What direction is your home in, from her family's farm, monsieur Édouard?"
The man jumped as her hands came down on the table. He looked at her hands, fear on his face. "N-north, I live in town. Just down from the butcher's, Oswin's- "
Teagan shook his head and glanced back at Cauthrien with what could have been displeasure or frustration, with her or Édouard - she couldn’t tell. Still, he nodded and left the room to send the guard out to search Édouard’s home.
There were a great many things she wanted to do to the man sitting at the table. She had so many questions to ask, threats to make. But she took a deep breath and kept her mouth shut, moved only to stand by the door, arms crossed over her chest. She never took her eyes off of him.
She wished that she had kept that letter. That she could put it in front of him, watch his reaction, question him about it.
But this was not, she reminded herself, her investigation, as much as she had fallen into command. She did not have the letter. This was Bann Teagan's land, his problem, and she was only lending her expertise.
There were still questions she could pose, however. Questions she didn't care about the answer to, but that Teagan might.
So after a stretch of several minutes, she asked, in Orlesian, "Why did you come to Ferelden?"
"I lived here, before... when this land was- my parents returned home when the war was over and I had always wanted to come back."
Her upper lip twitched and she fought back her snarl, her frustration, her disgust. It wasn't his land. He had no reason to feel as if he could come back.
But she remembered what she had told Teagan - that she knew the difference between an Orlesian and the Orlesians, and this man was not the Orlesians coming back to take Ferelden away from its people again, no matter how much the possible rape and murder of a farmer's daughter symbolized to her. She couldn't always see the distinction, but here, now, she would try.
Her hands clenched to fists at her sides.
"And what have you found to do, here in Ferelden?" Unspoken was, who has wanted you? Who has trusted you to do work for them?
Édouard shook his head. "At first, not much. I travelled. Then I came here. Now, I work with Oswin when he needs help."
"And Edlyn? Did she pay you? What did you get in return for teaching her?" She glanced away to hide the full extent of her scowl.
"I met her while working for Oswin. She was interested in Orlais, so she asked if I would teach her, I said yes. She wanted to pay..." he shook his head again and looked down at the table.
Cauthrien hadn't known she could be any more tense - but she certainly became so. She felt it in every bone and sinew of her body, beyond just her muscles' quivering anticipation of combat, of punishment.
She stepped closer to the table again.
"Wanted to."
Nodding, he continued. "Yes, but it seemed fruitless to take her money."
She pushed her hands against the wood of the table, leaning in again. "Did you take anything else, instead?"
"Sometimes she brought things from the land, food-" He looked up at Cauthrien with some confusion. "But, take?"
"Your little flower," she said, voice dripping with disdain before she could control herself. She leaned closer still, fingers of one hand curling. She pressed her fist hard into the wood. "Is she beautiful?"
He started to smile and it froze as the realization of her question dawned on him. After a moment, the smile grew at some memory she thought, not from joy or happiness. "She is, though she is merely a girl." He shook his head.
"Old enough to be betrothed, though." She realized, distantly, that she should have had Teagan ask these questions. He could have used his good nature, his cheer, to better ensure the man's openness. Very carefully, taking control of herself once more, she straightened up, loosened her shoulders, and sat down on the edge of the table instead.
"She was not so old when I met her," he said shaking his head. "Just a girl." He watched Cauthrien sit on the table, leaning away uncomfortably.
"You've watched her grow up."
That made her shudder. That, and how this man seemed to act so innocent. But- his little flower, his amusement at her displeasure with her betrothal- and he was the only man who could have written that note.
Maker, she wanted that note with her right at that moment.
"I suppose I have in a way. I have taught her for a few years." He gave a small shrug.
She almost didn't ask her next question. It was a violent question, one that would send her back into her anger before he could even respond. But it had to be asked, plainly.
"Have you bedded her?"
Orlesian made it sound so pretty. It was either pretty or horrific, and horror would do her no good. Even she could see that. Yes, it made sense to ask if he had raped her- but who would say yes to that, to a woman who held his life in her hands?
--
Teagan had gone to get the guard to response to Cauthrien’s order, though he resented a little the need for it. Something about Édouard made him believe the man wasn’t lying to them, that maybe he had only taught Edlyn, Orlesian. When he found some of the guard, to direct them to the man’s house, he decided to go along with them; it wasn’t far and he wanted to see for himself that Edlyn wasn’t in the house.
He left the guard to do the majority of the work, walking slowly through Édouard’s small home, while the men with him searched it thoroughly. As each room was cleared, without even a sign that she might have been there, Teagan became increasingly worried about having left Cauthrien alone with Édouard.
She might only question him, but her distaste for the language and distrust of the people, along with her sudden surge of martial ferocity, concerned him. Teagan wished he had taken a moment, to say more to her before he left, even if it would’ve meant causing more trouble with her than he thought he had already. Instead, he waited, paced until the guards said the house was clear- no girl, no blood, nothing.
He assigned a few guards to keep an eye on the house and then as quickly as he could made his way back to the chantry, not waiting for the rest of them. After entering, he made his way to the back room where he had left Édouard and Cauthrien. He could hear their conversation as he approached, but Cauthrien’s last question made him speed up his last few steps. He came around the corner eyes already searching for her.
"Ser Cauthrien?"
There was something in her voice- he stepped into the room more completely and advanced on her. "She’s not there." He wanted to push her off the desk or at least move in enough to keep her from intimidating Édouard more than she must have done before his arrival.
Instead, he stood close, meeting her gaze squarely. "He should be able to return home... for now. There will be a guard watching the house."
He couldn't read the sequence of emotions that crossed over her face, not entirely, but there was anger there. Confusion. Bristling pride. Inside, he winced, braced for her response and tried to keep his composure calm in front of Édouard.
"I don't trust him to have not taken her somewhere else," she said, finally, slipping back into Common like it was her well-worn armor. "In my opinion, the evidence is too strong-" Her voice rose in volume and intensity as she spoke. "We keep him until he has been questioned thoroughly, and only then do we let him free to potentially go to her and harm her again, Bann Teagan."
"No.” He said, using every bit of that calm he had built not to match her in volume or intensity. “We do not know enough. What I do know, is that she isn’t there, and my guards are."
He took a step closer to her. There was danger in her tone- so he kept his hands down, tried to gather a bit of the strength he had felt the previous morning.
"So, we’ll let him go home, where he and the house will be watched. Tomorrow, we will talk to the rest of the people Mayor Gerald has talked to, and we will find out about Edlyn’s supposed bethrothed."
With a small breath, he tried to relax his shoulders, letting the tension out of them. If he worked to stay calm, maybe he would help her come down from wherever she was.
"There are no other suspects, Teagan," she said, voice dropping dangerously soft and low, his title falling away in the intimacy of her anger.
She stood from the table, drew closer to him in turn. "The only other man capable of writing as well as that letter was written was the merchant - but he was only confused when we mentioned the girl. This man has a history with her, refers to her as little flower like in the note. Has worked at a butcher's shop. He claims she was only a child, but calls her beautiful and smiles when he tells us that she did not enjoy her betrothal. And you expect me to allow him the chance to run?"
Her words came faster and faster, and she seemed to him, tense from fingers to toes, nearly vibrating with frustration and anger. She ignored the world, or at least the Orlesian sitting not ten feet from the both of them.
"What will you tell Edlyn's parents if we release him and find her lifeless body in a brook three weeks from now? He's all we have.
"If you want to be kind and gentle, give him a room in your keep with a nice bed and a view. But do not tell me we are leaving him where we cannot question him."
"All the evidence we have is not good enough for me."
With another breath he shook his head and pressed his palms flat to his thighs to keep from clenching his fists. He know that part of her argument was sound. But he also knew that if Edlyn showed up at Édouard’s house, or Édouard tried to leave in the middle of the night, Teagan trusted his guards to be there and to bring him the news.
"I will send him home. And even if you do not, I trust my guardsmen." His voice was even, though he tried to keep it low, avoiding a scene and feeling slightly uncomfortable having the conversation with Édouard sitting so close.
"If she shows up, or if he leaves, we will be informed." It was not about kindness or gentleness, but Teagan had no reason to hold him further. He shifted his weight and tilted his head trying just a bit more, to put himself between Cauthrien and Édouard without stepping away from her.
In nearly a whisper he added, "Cauthrien, I am not just letting him go. There are men we did not question this evening. And there is still information we don’t know about Edlyn, or her parents."
Cauthrien swallowed hard, muscles and tendons of her throat jumping. She stared him down.
And then, her upper lip twitching once more in disgust, she turned and walked out of the side room, into the nave. Her angry, long strides took her quickly to the feet of the small statue of Andraste the chantry possessed.
Watching her walk away, Teagan sighed. It wasn’t relief. He didn’t think this would be the end of their discussion on the matter, but he was grateful in that moment that she had at least stepped away, if not backed down.
Though his Orlesian wasn’t as perfect as Cauthrien’s sounded, he used it when he turned back to Édouard. "I am letting you return home tonight, Édouard. If I find out that my trust has been misplaced, my guards will bring you back to me."
Then switching to Common, he asked, "Do you understand?"
The man nodded and said almost too softly to be heard, “Yes” and “Thank you”. Teagan tried to ignore Édouard’s confused and wide-eyed expression as he stepped back to let him stand up from the table. He escorted the man to the front door, both of them passing Cauthrien without a word or a glance. A guard met them outside, and Teagan left Édouard in the guard's care to get him home.
When the front door closed again, he turned to find Cauthrien. He approached, stopping just behind her and he said a prayer for Edlyn as he looked at the statue before them.
"I am headed home, Cauthrien,” he said as he turned from the statue to look at her. “Will you ride back with me?"
Her hands at her sides tightened into fists and it took a long moment for her to answer.
"I have nothing else to do. So, yes."
"I know you don’t like it," he whispered, "but I hope you can at least understand?"
Teagan thought to reach for her arm wanting to just make some sort of contact with her. At dinner, he had hoped they could talk and that they might have a chance to put the day behind him; that he would apologize for his behavior, she would forgive him, and it would all be forgotten. Now, he had those words again on his lips, ready to say he was sorry and still eager for her forgiveness.
But it was different than it had been before- this wasn’t just between the two of them. It wasn’t even about them.
He wanted to go home, have dinner, sleep. Tomorrow he would worry about who might really be guilty of taking the girl, Edlyn. But at that moment, without further information, he just couldn’t justify locking Édouard away. Teagan really hoped that if not now, then soon, Cauthrien would understand that. Or at least trust him enough to let him try it his way.
But the glare she fixed on the floor made him uncertain.
"I understand only that you're too generous and kind for your own good - and for the good of your people," she bit out, terse and acerbic. "There's no reason to leave him in his own home. Leave your guards there, give him the most resplendent room in your keep. But that way, he cannot run, he cannot plot, and most of all, we can continue to talk to him.
"He never answered my question, did he? And so he possibly never will."
She shook her head. She hadn't looked at him since she left the interrogation room, and she didn't look at him now, turning around and heading for the door of the chantry.
"But this is your bannorn. Your people. I'm only here to observe." She spat the last word.
He followed her, not hesitating to reach for her as they approached the front door. His fingers grazed arm, but he kept himself from grabbing her wrist.
She jerked away from his touch as if it burned.
Quietly, he asked, "Do you trust me so little?" In trying to keep their conversation from escalating, he had chosen Orlesian, hoping to preserve some boundaries before they began arguing in the middle of the chantry. Still, when he stopped it was with an effort to put himself between Cauthrien and the front door before she could open it.
"Trust you so little?" She laughed, a rough bark, not bothering to switch tongues. "You- do you not trust me about this? Do you think it's only my opinion on Orlesians that made me send your Fereldan men home? Do I need to sit down with you and explain every detail of every choice I made in there? Because I will.
"I was trained for this. Leading men, killing them, and this. I know you would prefer me to forget everything I ever learned from Loghain, but I refuse.
"That man is the only man who fits any of the clues we have, and you have sent him to his home, away from where we can reach him easily, for what? Comfort? To appear a good, gentle leader? Explain to me, oh gentle leader, what benefit anybody gains from this?"
She stepped close to him, pressed her hand to the wood of the door behind him. They were close, closer than they'd been since they had sparred, and if anything it felt worse.
He bristled at her words, at her tone, at the idea that she thought she knew what he wanted for her. Then he lifted his chin and said, "This has nothing to do with what I want of you, from you, or for you. It has everything to do with what I think is right not just for one girl, but for all of the people under my care."
He leaned forward, feeling much as he had stared her down in a field not so far away, her steel pointed at him, poised to strike. This was different in origin, true, yet he still felt like it was right, that it needed doing, regardless what it meant for her, for them.
There was a small recognition left in him, for where they stood and what it must look like for anyone that could see them. He let his gaze drop and then began again, even quieter than before. "Do you know what it can be like for a town like this, when a man is suspected of something terrible- or treasonous? Does your training tell you how it can rip people apart, how it can destroy people?
"This is the kinder thing. And I do it with purpose."
"Of course I know," she spat back.
"I grew up in a town far more broken and impoverished than this one for the first fifteen years of my life. I grew up in Ferelden just as the Orlesian occupation was broken, while you sat in safety in the Free Marches. I know about accusations of treason. I know about fear. I saw people I knew, were friends with, attack the Hero of River Dane because we were hungry and scared and he wore Orlesian armor. I know exactly what the accusation will cause.
"But the damage is already done, Teagan. The other men, they aren't stupid. They put it together, why we had called them in. They'll begin to talk. And now, instead of the people seeing you take him in to custody, you give him a guard and allow him to remain at home. You've painted a target on him and told the entire town that you will protect him."
He glanced at the door. They would not agree on this matter, he saw. He had been a boy then, safe in the Free Marches not because he wanted to be, but because it was where his father had put him and Eamon. But Rowan, she had fought, had even led troops. She had fought alongside Maric and Loghain, but maybe Cauthrien didn’t remember that part- she would’ve been even younger than he had been. While, she may have learned the same lessons, he and Eamon had learned much about the ramifications of war, of paranoia, from Rowan. He might not have been there himself, but he knew.
Cauthrien couldn’t see the larger picture.
Shaking his head in disappointment, he looked at the door, then grabbed at it to pull it open. He still wanted to make this right between them but his decision about Édouard was his to make, and he had made it.
Softly, he said, "I trust you- and I heard same as you, what he said when her name was mentioned. There is something there but I saw his house and there was nothing. If he has her, it’s elsewhere... and we’ll never find that if he’s locked away.
"I need you to trust me too." He sighed, lifting his eyes to hers.
She pushed away from the door, stepped back, the muscles of her jaw jumping. "Trust is meaningless here," she muttered, shaking her head. "... It always has been. I'll follow your lead, but I'm through not speaking my objections because I know they'll be turned aside. I did that for one man. I will not do it again."
Always has been.
He still thought he was doing the right thing. There were things that didn’t make sense to him, and he knew there were others out there that they hadn’t yet questioned. There was more to learn.
But, even still, her words stung, much as her gauntlet had when she had struck him. Meaningless.
He shook his head and yanked the door the rest of the way open. It didn’t matter how long they argued about it or whether one of them was right or wrong. What he heard was that she was once again comparing that moment, him, with Loghain. That it didn’t matter to her if he trusted her, if she trusted him.
Without a word, he turned and walked out of the chantry.
--
It took her several minutes to get her heart to stop racing, to unclench her fingers with knuckles gone stiff and white from her tension. There was nothing more she could do that night, no other way she could try to convince him. Her experiences - they were only appreciated when they suited his goals.
It was okay. She was used to that. She was a sword, not a soldier, when it came down to it. Few people ever truly listened, and it had been many years since she had come to terms with that.
She scrubbed at her face with her hands and took another deep breath, then turned. She thought she had heard hoof beats, but with her heart hammering it was hard to tell if they were real. Still, she could find the way back to the estate even in the dark. She knew the way.
She nodded once to the Sister who watched carefully and closely and with some barely masked expression of distrust - and Maker, if even the Sisters here hated her, perhaps it was best if Teagan led. Even if it meant a girl died or a killer went free.
She strode quickly from the chantry, going to where Calenhad was tethered without allowing herself to look for Teagan. She only looked for him once she was astride her horse.
He was gone.
When she had fled, he had come to stop her. He had ridden her down and spoke to her until she understood. But she had already stopped him from running in the chantry. She had tried to make him understand the folly of his actions and what could have been done better. Just like on the practice field earlier that day, he hadn't listened.
They never listened.
True, she was angry; her blood still pounded in her ears and her fingers clenched tight against the reins, Calenhad shifting uneasily at each unintentional nudge. Her cheeks felt hot. She had tried to shout him down the same as she had done when he had ridden after her. But she knew this, understood this.
What she had said finally was fact: trust didn't matter. She would follow where she was led, just as she always had. If he said let the man go home, there was nothing she could do about it. A tiny part of her whispered to her about what had happened the last time she had followed a man she did not trust, but she shoved it aside.
Her throat felt tight and her stomach both heavy and hollow at the same time, she nudged Calenhad into motion and tried to forget everything but cool night air on her face.
7
Authors: cherith & serindrana
Game: Dragon Age: Origins
Pairing: Bann Teagan/Ser Cauthrien
Series Rating: NC-17
Chapter Rating: T
Series Wordcount: 99,400
Chapter Wordcount: 7,583
Warnings: None
Summary: The investigation begins. An evening in the chantry brings up the past. (Ao3) (FF)
Notes: War is Never Cheap Here will be updating weekly, on Fridays. Projected length looking like twelve chapters.
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Chapter Six
Teagan took the letter Cauthrien thrust back at him, disgust at it’s contents clear in her expression. He read it again and nodded, glancing back to the mayor when he finished; the way the letter was written seemed far more possessive than any love letter should be.
He had been only a boy when Ferelden had fought back against the Orlesians. But the passing of time had not greatly improved sentiments towards the Orlesians. The feelings of the vast majority of Fereldans, especially those his age and older, were still poor, frustrated, and unkind. His sister-in-law Isolde was the daughter of the man that held Redcliffe during the occupation; the marriage, understandably, was not well received. The negative attention towards Orlesians had in past years lessened and most people were at least tolerant, but if an Orlesian had killed and taken the body of a local girl, he might have a town of very angry and prejudiced people on his hands.
Teagan let out a frustrated sigh. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention," he said with all the strength he could manage, inclining his head once more to Gerald. After a pause, in which he spared a glance toward Cauthrien, he asked, "Her body is missing?
Orlais had made no threats recently, at least none that he knew of, but one death by Orlesian hands would be all it took to turn Rainesfere against itself in search for one man. The faster the girl was found and the man brought to justice, the better it would be for everyone.
"I will send some guards to search the town for her, and for this... man." Whoever he might be. They had only a note, a language, and an obsession. He pursed his lips, uncertain of how to proceed.
"Do you have so many Orlesians living in Rainesfere?" Cauthrien asked, still frowning just as she had been since she'd been handed the letter. She was intense, focused, and none-too-happy. He remembered clearly her distaste about the language - did it extend to the people, too? Was she so much Loghain's creature?
"No, I do not think so." He looked at Gerald.
Gerald shook his head, "No. However, I do think there are a few that had Orlesian parents... and some knowledge of the language."
Teagan nodded. "Perhaps it might help to look for other letters. If they exist we might find out who the Orlesian is."
"If there are no more notes to be found, it would be faster to simply bring in every Orlesian in the town for questioning." She crossed her arms over her chest, and she was in that moment so very similar to the helmed soldier who had strode into his office the other morning, every inch intimidating duty.
But instead of wanting to frustrate her, this time he agreed with her proposal.
Teagan nodded. "Gerald, can you talk to those you know of and have them sent here to speak with Ser Cauthrien in the morning? I’ll have a guard sent with you." He glanced at Raud, who nodded and went to make arrangements.
"If that’s alright with you?" he asked Cauthrien, voice softer.
She didn't respond, instead turning to Gerald. "Can I be shown where you found the blood and the letter?" she asked. "Just so I can see it for myself." She shot a glance to Teagan only then, questioning, needing support.
"That sounds like a good idea, C- Ser Cauthrien." He bit his lip. Ser Cauthrien. The slip earned him a warning look from the knight, and he squared his shoulders, adding, "The sooner, the better." If they left now, he thought they might still have enough light to see. "Gerald, would you escort us to where the letter was found?"
Teagan gestured at the door across the chamber and started in that direction. He realized he still had the letter in his hands and with only a cursory glance down to it, he folded the parchment and tucked it away.
--
They went on horseback to the the farm where the girl had gone missing. They arrived just as the sun was reaching the horizon, the land drenched in swiftly-dimming red and long shadows from the hedgerow and the buildings. Teagan didn’t make it out to the farms as often as he should, or at least not since he had returned home from Redcliffe - too many other things had needed tending to. As they approached he looked between the farm and Cauthrien as he tried to gauge her reactions and tried to avoid thinking about all the things that could’ve happened to the poor young, Edlyn.
Gerald led them to a small clearing near a cluster of farm buildings and as Cauthrien dismounted, she asked, “Where on the farm was the blood found?" Her eyes were narrowed and she spared barely a glance to Teagan as she tied Calenhad to one of the nearby trees.
He and Gerald followed suit, securing their horses before gathering together so Gerald could point the way. He led them towards the main building and said, "Near the house.
"Edlyn’s family is still rebuilding their home and there are supplies near the house, under a lean-to. Both the blood and the letter were found there."
The house was in various states of disarray: the roof covered in thatching that looked as though it had been patched several times. A front wall was open, beams showing where new construction was taking place. There were several crates piled next to the house, under a haphazardly constructed lean-to covered with an oil-cloth attached to the house.
They stepped around cloth and lumber, tools and roof thatching, into the shadows of the lean-to, and stopped over a more open stretch of earth. The ground Gerald pointed out was covered in dark spots. The mayor sighed as he stepped around the largest of the stained areas and looked to Teagan and Cauthrien. "Right here."
Cauthrien crouched next to it, trailing her fingers along the ground. He saw her look at her hands, clean except for a few specks of dirt. Dry, of course - the blood had been shed during the day and there had been no rain to keep the ground moist. She frowned, peering at the size of the blood stain.
Teagan crouched down beside her, frowning as well and shaking his head.
If an entire person - even a young woman - had bled out there and only there, so as to leave a blood stain of that size- the earth should have felt different. But he watched her dig her fingers into the soil and let the earth fall against her hand. The blood only seemed to have gone in a tiny bit below the surface.
"She didn't die here," Cauthrien said, voice flat and controlled.
Teagan stood, slowly. "It may be more important to talk to those people tonight, Gerald. If she didn’t die here, there’s a chance she’s not dead at all."
He looked to Cauthrien, "Is there a trail? Maybe to at least help us find a direction?"
"I'm not a tracker," she muttered, frowning, but she did move around the edge of the blood spot, eyes fixed on the soil. Her brow furrowed and she seemed to find something, but she stopped only a few feet away from them. "If there is one, I can only follow it to here. It goes north."
She stood fully, turning back to Teagan and Gerald. "Bann Teagan is right; there's no way she died here, and she may have been only incapacitated and carried away. If she is alive, she's lost a lot of blood. We need to talk to those people.
"Bring them to the chantry." It was an order, not a suggestion or an advisement. She sounded as if she were ordering troops, voice firm, words clipped. She fixed the mayor with a level gaze, hands clasped at the small of her back.
Gerald raised an eyebrow at her command and turned his head slowly towards Teagan, looking for some direction. The man’s jaw was set and he looked uncomfortable with taking her order without some indication from him first. Teagan kept his expression firm and gave a quick nod to the mayor, who still looked displeased, but set off towards his horse.
Cauthrien said nothing as the man left and pointedly ignored Teagan's questioning look. When Gerald had set off in the direction of town, though, her shoulders sagged just a little and she walked without a word over to Calenhad.
He followed.
They rode for the chantry, to await the arrival of whomever Gerald sent their way, without a word. to each other. When they finally dismounted at the bottom of the steps leading up into the chantry, it was dark.
Teagan stopped at the door.
During the ride, he had replayed Gerald’s reaction to Cauthrien. He considered how people might react to being questioned by Ser Cauthrien. Was this how he was supposed to be worrying - about he and Cauthrien together? She had suggested as much to him before and he hadn’t listened. Tonight, if she was by his side, was likely to incite people’s fear not only about the things Loghain had ordered done to the Bannorn, but panic of an Orlesian threat.
In the dim light outside the chantry, he tried to get a look at Cauthrien’s face, to read her mood. He had already made one huge mistake that day, he didn’t want to make another.
A bit nervously, he said, "This will have to be handled carefully. I do not want to worry people about an Orlesian threat, needlessly." Slowly, he reached for her hand, just to lay his fingers on her wrist, sighing a little as he touched her. "I just-"
Maker’s breath.
He didn’t know what to say, only that he should say something. Instead, he paused mid-thought, his hand on her arm, looking at her in the early evening moonlight.
Cauthrien didn't pull away from him, but she did look down to where they touched. She seemed to consider, then looked back up to meet his eyes.
"I know the difference between an Orlesian and the Orlesians," she said, the frown her face had settled into sharpening for just a moment. But then she relaxed, touching her dirt-stained fingers to her forehead. "Do you think I'm not fit for this task?" It was a challenge, but wrapped up in that challenge was honest concern, nervousness. "I want to- if I can do this one thing, rescue this girl, I-"
He took a breath and searched for words then closed his mouth, jaw clenching. After another breath, he met her gaze again.
"I think you’re plenty capable. I was just-" Worried. Concerned, and not just for the missing girl. "I’m concerned, that’s all."
He let his hand fall away from her arm and reached for the door, pulling it open. There was a moment where he felt he should say something else- but he shook his head instead and gestured for her to go inside.
"Concerned," she repeated, and her voice was strained, nearly angry, as she brushed past him.
The chantry wasn’t very full. The brazier burned brightly across the hall from the front door but the pews lining the hall were unoccupied. Teagan only saw two people and a Sister conversing at the far end. They would be able to use a room along the hall for their interrogations.
Cauthrien bowed her head, lips moving in a silent, brief prayer, and then took up a spot leaning against the wall where she could see the door.
After the way she had sounded when she had followed him inside, he kept quiet. They stood to the side of the entrance, waiting for Gerald to arrive with at least some if not all of the people that Cauthrien wanted to question. He watched her, biting at the inside of his bottom lip, trying to keep himself from saying something else he didn’t need to. It still felt as though he hadn’t apologized properly for that afternoon, nor had she forgiven him.
And he wasn’t sure that she would forgive him.
He thought about at least asking what her questions would be, when Gerald arrived. If they could talk at all, that would alleviate some of his worry. He did trust her. He trusted the Cauthrien from this morning, from last night. But, he thought he had driven her away. At least it didn’t feel to him like she was that woman standing near him. So he said nothing, unwilling to trust himself to say something that wouldn’t make everything worse while they waited.
When Gerald arrived some time later, he had twelve men with him, of varying ages. Teagan ushered them into one of the back rooms and explained that he and Ser Cauthrien had some questions for them.
--
When she had learned Orlesian, it had been to this purpose: sussing out lies, understanding identities. Catching spies, at the time, or understanding intercepted missives. She fell into her old training.
She started simply, by addressing each one in turn in Orlesian, though the language felt sickly on her tongue, asking basic questions about when they had learned the language and why. A few were barely capable of holding a conversation, and when she determined that it was honest difficulty and not feigned ignorance, she sent them away.
And then she asked for paper, and when it had been brought, had each of them write her a sentence in Orlesian. Half the remaining men were completely illiterate. Those, she also sent home.
That left her with four individuals. Two men of Rainesfere, through and through. One was Orlesian but had come to settle several years ago. One was a traveling merchant, in town for the past two weeks. She asked them all to write her a few more sentences, and then asked them to write down a line or two of poetry that they knew.
It was hard to get the frustration out of her voice. She reminded herself, time and again, that her own mother had sung her lullabies in Orlesian. That her father had sung resistance songs, likewise in the foreign, conquering tongue. The two Rainesfere men - she had no problem with them, except that they reminded her vaguely of her father. The two Orlesians, though- she kept herself on a tight leash, asked only the questions she had planned.
She had told Teagan that she knew the difference between an Orlesian and the Orlesians, but it had been a rough, thin lie. No, sometimes she didn't know the difference - a product of being around Loghain for far too many years.
It was the Rainesfere men who distrusted her the most. The Orlesians both seemed delighted to be able to converse in their native tongue with somebody who was fluent and relatively articulate, no matter her demeanor.
Collecting the writing samples, she looked to Teagan, to see if he had any further questions before she took a moment to read over them. They had little time, it was true, but the writing samples might weed the suspects down still further.
Maker, she could have used some wine at that moment, to wash the taste of Orlesian from her mouth.
As Cauthrien finished, Teagan stepped forward and asked the remaining men where they lived and a few basic questions about their past few days. It was nothing that specifically allowed him to rule any of them out, but it gave them an idea of who would have been near the house or had a chance to meet with Edlyn. They were decent questions.
Cauthrien listened in, leaning back against the wall as she looked over the writing samples. The two Rainesfere men - they were literate, but their spelling in Orlesian was as atrocious as hers in the common tongue, and they excluded small details that the note found earlier had included.
She folded those samples and handed them to Gerald for safe keeping.
The other two- they were completely literate, as she had expected given their speech. What was more useful, however, was that they had differing styles. Neither quite fit the note, but one was closer.
She looked up at the men.
"A girl, Edlyn, is missing," she said in Orlesian, stepping away from the wall and coming back over. She wanted, so badly, to loom. To terrify. But she didn't. She was conversational and as relaxed as she could be.
The merchant shook his head, frowning slightly. The two Rainesfere men scowled and looked immediately to the two Orlesians. The Orlesian who had lived there the longest, however, sat very still and very pale.
"The little flower? She's gone?" he finally breathed, and Cauthrien nodded, slowly.
Well, then. Little flower. Her eyes flicked to where Teagan had tucked the note, then to Gerald.
"Mayor, let the other three go. I believe we only need to talk to monsieur Édouard."
Teagan helped the mayor usher the remaining men out of the chantry, thanking for their time and assuring them there wasn’t an issue they needed to be worried about. She nearly snorted. Did he really think that would keep their curiosity at bay, would stop the rumor mill?
When the rest were gone, Teagan turned back to them and asked Édouard, "How did you know Edlyn?" in the common tongue. She would have preferred to conduct the interview in Orlesian, much to her own surprise - she wanted to get a sense of the man in his native language. But it appeared that Teagan did not trust himself to speak it.
"She asked me to teach her..." Édouard started, voice a little weak, a little worried. "She wanted to know Orlesian."
"Why?" she asked, moving closer to the table he sat at. "Why would a farmer's daughter want to learn Orlesian when the knowledge can gain her nothing?" It didn't seem to hold, not really- though the letter had mentioned seeing her often.
Édouard gave a small shrug. "She thought it was romantic. She wanted to move to Orlais one day."
Romantic.
She fought back the urge to counter that. It didn't matter if the girl had been foolish or not - only if the man before them was lying. He hadn't yet said that he didn't have the girl, and she supposed the lessons... could have made sense.
Teagan nodded a little sadly. "How long have you been teaching her?"
"She asked me not long after I came to Rainesfere."
She took a deep breath. "When was the last time you saw her?" Would admit to seeing her - same thing. "What did she say? Do?"
"A few days ago, she seemed good- normal."
Teagan pressed forward before she could. "Was there anything unusual about the last time you saw her?"
The man shook his head. "There was something... she was upset. Something about her parents. She was to be betrothed." Édouard gave just the barest of amused smiles. "It was a surprise to her and it wasn’t what she wanted."
Cauthrien looked to the mayor. "Why weren't we told this?" she asked, voice sharp, then shook her head, looking back to Édouard.
Teagan looked to Gerald. "Did you know about this?"
The mayor shook his head. "Her parents did not mention it, I can ride back out and talk to them, if you wish?"
"Knowing who she was promised to would be useful, yes." Even Teagan's voice was a barely controlled calm. Cauthrien didn't trust herself to speak again.
"I’ll go." Gerald nodded and then left.
Once the mayor was gone, Teagan turned his attention back on Édouard. "You said it wasn’t what she wanted..."
Why do you constantly turn me away?
It wasn't damning, just as his writing hadn't been damning, but those two things together with little flower- no. No, she didn't trust this man. Cauthrien shifted her weight. Her anxiety had been replaced completely by aggression; she clenched her jaw.
The man smiled, ignoring her for the moment in favor of speaking with Teagan. "I do not know... the little flower, she has always had the grandest ideas. She likes to dream, that one."
The smile was too much and Cauthrien looked to Teagan, expression hard. "Send the guard to search monsieur Édouard's home," she said. It was an order, as firm as the one she had given Gerald.
They didn't have time to waste, after all.
She stepped close to the table, all but slamming her hands down on the wood as she leaned in to peer at the man. "Your little flower of a student is missing, possibly dead, and you're smiling at her dislike of her betrothal?" Her voice dropped dangerously soft. "What direction is your home in, from her family's farm, monsieur Édouard?"
The man jumped as her hands came down on the table. He looked at her hands, fear on his face. "N-north, I live in town. Just down from the butcher's, Oswin's- "
Teagan shook his head and glanced back at Cauthrien with what could have been displeasure or frustration, with her or Édouard - she couldn’t tell. Still, he nodded and left the room to send the guard out to search Édouard’s home.
There were a great many things she wanted to do to the man sitting at the table. She had so many questions to ask, threats to make. But she took a deep breath and kept her mouth shut, moved only to stand by the door, arms crossed over her chest. She never took her eyes off of him.
She wished that she had kept that letter. That she could put it in front of him, watch his reaction, question him about it.
But this was not, she reminded herself, her investigation, as much as she had fallen into command. She did not have the letter. This was Bann Teagan's land, his problem, and she was only lending her expertise.
There were still questions she could pose, however. Questions she didn't care about the answer to, but that Teagan might.
So after a stretch of several minutes, she asked, in Orlesian, "Why did you come to Ferelden?"
"I lived here, before... when this land was- my parents returned home when the war was over and I had always wanted to come back."
Her upper lip twitched and she fought back her snarl, her frustration, her disgust. It wasn't his land. He had no reason to feel as if he could come back.
But she remembered what she had told Teagan - that she knew the difference between an Orlesian and the Orlesians, and this man was not the Orlesians coming back to take Ferelden away from its people again, no matter how much the possible rape and murder of a farmer's daughter symbolized to her. She couldn't always see the distinction, but here, now, she would try.
Her hands clenched to fists at her sides.
"And what have you found to do, here in Ferelden?" Unspoken was, who has wanted you? Who has trusted you to do work for them?
Édouard shook his head. "At first, not much. I travelled. Then I came here. Now, I work with Oswin when he needs help."
"And Edlyn? Did she pay you? What did you get in return for teaching her?" She glanced away to hide the full extent of her scowl.
"I met her while working for Oswin. She was interested in Orlais, so she asked if I would teach her, I said yes. She wanted to pay..." he shook his head again and looked down at the table.
Cauthrien hadn't known she could be any more tense - but she certainly became so. She felt it in every bone and sinew of her body, beyond just her muscles' quivering anticipation of combat, of punishment.
She stepped closer to the table again.
"Wanted to."
Nodding, he continued. "Yes, but it seemed fruitless to take her money."
She pushed her hands against the wood of the table, leaning in again. "Did you take anything else, instead?"
"Sometimes she brought things from the land, food-" He looked up at Cauthrien with some confusion. "But, take?"
"Your little flower," she said, voice dripping with disdain before she could control herself. She leaned closer still, fingers of one hand curling. She pressed her fist hard into the wood. "Is she beautiful?"
He started to smile and it froze as the realization of her question dawned on him. After a moment, the smile grew at some memory she thought, not from joy or happiness. "She is, though she is merely a girl." He shook his head.
"Old enough to be betrothed, though." She realized, distantly, that she should have had Teagan ask these questions. He could have used his good nature, his cheer, to better ensure the man's openness. Very carefully, taking control of herself once more, she straightened up, loosened her shoulders, and sat down on the edge of the table instead.
"She was not so old when I met her," he said shaking his head. "Just a girl." He watched Cauthrien sit on the table, leaning away uncomfortably.
"You've watched her grow up."
That made her shudder. That, and how this man seemed to act so innocent. But- his little flower, his amusement at her displeasure with her betrothal- and he was the only man who could have written that note.
Maker, she wanted that note with her right at that moment.
"I suppose I have in a way. I have taught her for a few years." He gave a small shrug.
She almost didn't ask her next question. It was a violent question, one that would send her back into her anger before he could even respond. But it had to be asked, plainly.
"Have you bedded her?"
Orlesian made it sound so pretty. It was either pretty or horrific, and horror would do her no good. Even she could see that. Yes, it made sense to ask if he had raped her- but who would say yes to that, to a woman who held his life in her hands?
--
Teagan had gone to get the guard to response to Cauthrien’s order, though he resented a little the need for it. Something about Édouard made him believe the man wasn’t lying to them, that maybe he had only taught Edlyn, Orlesian. When he found some of the guard, to direct them to the man’s house, he decided to go along with them; it wasn’t far and he wanted to see for himself that Edlyn wasn’t in the house.
He left the guard to do the majority of the work, walking slowly through Édouard’s small home, while the men with him searched it thoroughly. As each room was cleared, without even a sign that she might have been there, Teagan became increasingly worried about having left Cauthrien alone with Édouard.
She might only question him, but her distaste for the language and distrust of the people, along with her sudden surge of martial ferocity, concerned him. Teagan wished he had taken a moment, to say more to her before he left, even if it would’ve meant causing more trouble with her than he thought he had already. Instead, he waited, paced until the guards said the house was clear- no girl, no blood, nothing.
He assigned a few guards to keep an eye on the house and then as quickly as he could made his way back to the chantry, not waiting for the rest of them. After entering, he made his way to the back room where he had left Édouard and Cauthrien. He could hear their conversation as he approached, but Cauthrien’s last question made him speed up his last few steps. He came around the corner eyes already searching for her.
"Ser Cauthrien?"
There was something in her voice- he stepped into the room more completely and advanced on her. "She’s not there." He wanted to push her off the desk or at least move in enough to keep her from intimidating Édouard more than she must have done before his arrival.
Instead, he stood close, meeting her gaze squarely. "He should be able to return home... for now. There will be a guard watching the house."
He couldn't read the sequence of emotions that crossed over her face, not entirely, but there was anger there. Confusion. Bristling pride. Inside, he winced, braced for her response and tried to keep his composure calm in front of Édouard.
"I don't trust him to have not taken her somewhere else," she said, finally, slipping back into Common like it was her well-worn armor. "In my opinion, the evidence is too strong-" Her voice rose in volume and intensity as she spoke. "We keep him until he has been questioned thoroughly, and only then do we let him free to potentially go to her and harm her again, Bann Teagan."
"No.” He said, using every bit of that calm he had built not to match her in volume or intensity. “We do not know enough. What I do know, is that she isn’t there, and my guards are."
He took a step closer to her. There was danger in her tone- so he kept his hands down, tried to gather a bit of the strength he had felt the previous morning.
"So, we’ll let him go home, where he and the house will be watched. Tomorrow, we will talk to the rest of the people Mayor Gerald has talked to, and we will find out about Edlyn’s supposed bethrothed."
With a small breath, he tried to relax his shoulders, letting the tension out of them. If he worked to stay calm, maybe he would help her come down from wherever she was.
"There are no other suspects, Teagan," she said, voice dropping dangerously soft and low, his title falling away in the intimacy of her anger.
She stood from the table, drew closer to him in turn. "The only other man capable of writing as well as that letter was written was the merchant - but he was only confused when we mentioned the girl. This man has a history with her, refers to her as little flower like in the note. Has worked at a butcher's shop. He claims she was only a child, but calls her beautiful and smiles when he tells us that she did not enjoy her betrothal. And you expect me to allow him the chance to run?"
Her words came faster and faster, and she seemed to him, tense from fingers to toes, nearly vibrating with frustration and anger. She ignored the world, or at least the Orlesian sitting not ten feet from the both of them.
"What will you tell Edlyn's parents if we release him and find her lifeless body in a brook three weeks from now? He's all we have.
"If you want to be kind and gentle, give him a room in your keep with a nice bed and a view. But do not tell me we are leaving him where we cannot question him."
"All the evidence we have is not good enough for me."
With another breath he shook his head and pressed his palms flat to his thighs to keep from clenching his fists. He know that part of her argument was sound. But he also knew that if Edlyn showed up at Édouard’s house, or Édouard tried to leave in the middle of the night, Teagan trusted his guards to be there and to bring him the news.
"I will send him home. And even if you do not, I trust my guardsmen." His voice was even, though he tried to keep it low, avoiding a scene and feeling slightly uncomfortable having the conversation with Édouard sitting so close.
"If she shows up, or if he leaves, we will be informed." It was not about kindness or gentleness, but Teagan had no reason to hold him further. He shifted his weight and tilted his head trying just a bit more, to put himself between Cauthrien and Édouard without stepping away from her.
In nearly a whisper he added, "Cauthrien, I am not just letting him go. There are men we did not question this evening. And there is still information we don’t know about Edlyn, or her parents."
Cauthrien swallowed hard, muscles and tendons of her throat jumping. She stared him down.
And then, her upper lip twitching once more in disgust, she turned and walked out of the side room, into the nave. Her angry, long strides took her quickly to the feet of the small statue of Andraste the chantry possessed.
Watching her walk away, Teagan sighed. It wasn’t relief. He didn’t think this would be the end of their discussion on the matter, but he was grateful in that moment that she had at least stepped away, if not backed down.
Though his Orlesian wasn’t as perfect as Cauthrien’s sounded, he used it when he turned back to Édouard. "I am letting you return home tonight, Édouard. If I find out that my trust has been misplaced, my guards will bring you back to me."
Then switching to Common, he asked, "Do you understand?"
The man nodded and said almost too softly to be heard, “Yes” and “Thank you”. Teagan tried to ignore Édouard’s confused and wide-eyed expression as he stepped back to let him stand up from the table. He escorted the man to the front door, both of them passing Cauthrien without a word or a glance. A guard met them outside, and Teagan left Édouard in the guard's care to get him home.
When the front door closed again, he turned to find Cauthrien. He approached, stopping just behind her and he said a prayer for Edlyn as he looked at the statue before them.
"I am headed home, Cauthrien,” he said as he turned from the statue to look at her. “Will you ride back with me?"
Her hands at her sides tightened into fists and it took a long moment for her to answer.
"I have nothing else to do. So, yes."
"I know you don’t like it," he whispered, "but I hope you can at least understand?"
Teagan thought to reach for her arm wanting to just make some sort of contact with her. At dinner, he had hoped they could talk and that they might have a chance to put the day behind him; that he would apologize for his behavior, she would forgive him, and it would all be forgotten. Now, he had those words again on his lips, ready to say he was sorry and still eager for her forgiveness.
But it was different than it had been before- this wasn’t just between the two of them. It wasn’t even about them.
He wanted to go home, have dinner, sleep. Tomorrow he would worry about who might really be guilty of taking the girl, Edlyn. But at that moment, without further information, he just couldn’t justify locking Édouard away. Teagan really hoped that if not now, then soon, Cauthrien would understand that. Or at least trust him enough to let him try it his way.
But the glare she fixed on the floor made him uncertain.
"I understand only that you're too generous and kind for your own good - and for the good of your people," she bit out, terse and acerbic. "There's no reason to leave him in his own home. Leave your guards there, give him the most resplendent room in your keep. But that way, he cannot run, he cannot plot, and most of all, we can continue to talk to him.
"He never answered my question, did he? And so he possibly never will."
She shook her head. She hadn't looked at him since she left the interrogation room, and she didn't look at him now, turning around and heading for the door of the chantry.
"But this is your bannorn. Your people. I'm only here to observe." She spat the last word.
He followed her, not hesitating to reach for her as they approached the front door. His fingers grazed arm, but he kept himself from grabbing her wrist.
She jerked away from his touch as if it burned.
Quietly, he asked, "Do you trust me so little?" In trying to keep their conversation from escalating, he had chosen Orlesian, hoping to preserve some boundaries before they began arguing in the middle of the chantry. Still, when he stopped it was with an effort to put himself between Cauthrien and the front door before she could open it.
"Trust you so little?" She laughed, a rough bark, not bothering to switch tongues. "You- do you not trust me about this? Do you think it's only my opinion on Orlesians that made me send your Fereldan men home? Do I need to sit down with you and explain every detail of every choice I made in there? Because I will.
"I was trained for this. Leading men, killing them, and this. I know you would prefer me to forget everything I ever learned from Loghain, but I refuse.
"That man is the only man who fits any of the clues we have, and you have sent him to his home, away from where we can reach him easily, for what? Comfort? To appear a good, gentle leader? Explain to me, oh gentle leader, what benefit anybody gains from this?"
She stepped close to him, pressed her hand to the wood of the door behind him. They were close, closer than they'd been since they had sparred, and if anything it felt worse.
He bristled at her words, at her tone, at the idea that she thought she knew what he wanted for her. Then he lifted his chin and said, "This has nothing to do with what I want of you, from you, or for you. It has everything to do with what I think is right not just for one girl, but for all of the people under my care."
He leaned forward, feeling much as he had stared her down in a field not so far away, her steel pointed at him, poised to strike. This was different in origin, true, yet he still felt like it was right, that it needed doing, regardless what it meant for her, for them.
There was a small recognition left in him, for where they stood and what it must look like for anyone that could see them. He let his gaze drop and then began again, even quieter than before. "Do you know what it can be like for a town like this, when a man is suspected of something terrible- or treasonous? Does your training tell you how it can rip people apart, how it can destroy people?
"This is the kinder thing. And I do it with purpose."
"Of course I know," she spat back.
"I grew up in a town far more broken and impoverished than this one for the first fifteen years of my life. I grew up in Ferelden just as the Orlesian occupation was broken, while you sat in safety in the Free Marches. I know about accusations of treason. I know about fear. I saw people I knew, were friends with, attack the Hero of River Dane because we were hungry and scared and he wore Orlesian armor. I know exactly what the accusation will cause.
"But the damage is already done, Teagan. The other men, they aren't stupid. They put it together, why we had called them in. They'll begin to talk. And now, instead of the people seeing you take him in to custody, you give him a guard and allow him to remain at home. You've painted a target on him and told the entire town that you will protect him."
He glanced at the door. They would not agree on this matter, he saw. He had been a boy then, safe in the Free Marches not because he wanted to be, but because it was where his father had put him and Eamon. But Rowan, she had fought, had even led troops. She had fought alongside Maric and Loghain, but maybe Cauthrien didn’t remember that part- she would’ve been even younger than he had been. While, she may have learned the same lessons, he and Eamon had learned much about the ramifications of war, of paranoia, from Rowan. He might not have been there himself, but he knew.
Cauthrien couldn’t see the larger picture.
Shaking his head in disappointment, he looked at the door, then grabbed at it to pull it open. He still wanted to make this right between them but his decision about Édouard was his to make, and he had made it.
Softly, he said, "I trust you- and I heard same as you, what he said when her name was mentioned. There is something there but I saw his house and there was nothing. If he has her, it’s elsewhere... and we’ll never find that if he’s locked away.
"I need you to trust me too." He sighed, lifting his eyes to hers.
She pushed away from the door, stepped back, the muscles of her jaw jumping. "Trust is meaningless here," she muttered, shaking her head. "... It always has been. I'll follow your lead, but I'm through not speaking my objections because I know they'll be turned aside. I did that for one man. I will not do it again."
Always has been.
He still thought he was doing the right thing. There were things that didn’t make sense to him, and he knew there were others out there that they hadn’t yet questioned. There was more to learn.
But, even still, her words stung, much as her gauntlet had when she had struck him. Meaningless.
He shook his head and yanked the door the rest of the way open. It didn’t matter how long they argued about it or whether one of them was right or wrong. What he heard was that she was once again comparing that moment, him, with Loghain. That it didn’t matter to her if he trusted her, if she trusted him.
Without a word, he turned and walked out of the chantry.
--
It took her several minutes to get her heart to stop racing, to unclench her fingers with knuckles gone stiff and white from her tension. There was nothing more she could do that night, no other way she could try to convince him. Her experiences - they were only appreciated when they suited his goals.
It was okay. She was used to that. She was a sword, not a soldier, when it came down to it. Few people ever truly listened, and it had been many years since she had come to terms with that.
She scrubbed at her face with her hands and took another deep breath, then turned. She thought she had heard hoof beats, but with her heart hammering it was hard to tell if they were real. Still, she could find the way back to the estate even in the dark. She knew the way.
She nodded once to the Sister who watched carefully and closely and with some barely masked expression of distrust - and Maker, if even the Sisters here hated her, perhaps it was best if Teagan led. Even if it meant a girl died or a killer went free.
She strode quickly from the chantry, going to where Calenhad was tethered without allowing herself to look for Teagan. She only looked for him once she was astride her horse.
He was gone.
When she had fled, he had come to stop her. He had ridden her down and spoke to her until she understood. But she had already stopped him from running in the chantry. She had tried to make him understand the folly of his actions and what could have been done better. Just like on the practice field earlier that day, he hadn't listened.
They never listened.
True, she was angry; her blood still pounded in her ears and her fingers clenched tight against the reins, Calenhad shifting uneasily at each unintentional nudge. Her cheeks felt hot. She had tried to shout him down the same as she had done when he had ridden after her. But she knew this, understood this.
What she had said finally was fact: trust didn't matter. She would follow where she was led, just as she always had. If he said let the man go home, there was nothing she could do about it. A tiny part of her whispered to her about what had happened the last time she had followed a man she did not trust, but she shoved it aside.
Her throat felt tight and her stomach both heavy and hollow at the same time, she nudged Calenhad into motion and tried to forget everything but cool night air on her face.
7