War is Never Cheap Here (7/12)
Title: War is Never Cheap Here (7/12)
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: 10,352
Warnings: None
Summary: Trust is damaged and repaired, and the two visit the town again in search of evidence. (Ao3) (FF)
Notes: War is Never Cheap Here will be updating weekly, on Fridays. Projected length looking like twelve chapters.
Last week, we put out a fanmix for War is Never Cheap Here - go take a look!
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Chapter Seven
Trust always has been meaningless.
Her words echoed in his mind as he rode home from the chantry. Their whole argument repeated in his mind faintly, but those words, they stuck in him. Meaningless. Trust was what he needed from Cauthrien, what he wanted most of all. He was frustrated- devastated to have been mistaken. He thought she had trusted him, that it was why she had returned home with him, and why she had let him teach her.
That she hadn't done it because he was some great leader, but because even if she wasn’t certain about him- about what had happened between them, she trusted that he was.
Because she wanted to.
He left his horse to be tended to in the stables upon his arrival at the keep and then went in search of what remained of dinner. There was stew left, and he sat at the low table in the kitchen, staring down into his bowl. It felt as though the whole room held an echo of his laughter from the night when he had found her there, wallowing in guilt, with a drink in her hands.
For a while, he tried to eat or drink, but found it hard to do either. Not in that room, not when he could picture her sitting across from him, joking, flirting. Bann Disappointment. Eventually, he grabbed his bowl, a tankard of ale, and took them to his room. It was quieter there, and there at least he could eat his meal in peace and not risk running into her when she returned.
Sleep came slowly that night.
He woke several times, each one with Cauthrien’s words still echoing in his head. Twice, he rose and paced his room until he was tired again. Eventually, he opened his eyes to find the barest hint sunlight was finally peeking through his window and unwilling to fight to sleep again, he got up, dressed, and returned his dishes to the kitchen.
The long night did little to make him less upset and if he let himself think about her, it was worse.
He didn't want to argue with her further about Èduourd. And for the time being, he didn’t think he was ready to confront her about his opinions on matters of trust. He still wanted her- still wanted to feel as though she trusted him, and not just during the investigation they were beginning.
Unsure of whether to sit at breakfast as though nothing had happened, or whether to start the morning alone in his office, he found a compromise. He went to his office and grabbed a handful of letters and reports that needing tending to. He brought everything to the dining table and spread his work out in front of him.
With his attention focused on work, he at least was able to ignore his thoughts of Cauthrien, of the investigation- anything about the previous day.
--
She sat up late that night, writing to Anora. At first, out of spite, she thought to simply write as she always had. Instead, she pulled out The History of Rainesfere and kept it open on her desk as she wrote, to double-check her spelling. The book didn't always help, but it made her feel slightly more confident. And it gave her mindless work to keep herself distracted.
Have not fownd out much more about Teagan's motivs. He remanes a deesent horse man and servisable with a sword, though it would apeer he has becom rustee in the last few months.
Ownlee won thing of note
Several things of note, really, but so many of them seemed pointless by candlelight, sitting alone and eating stew already gone cold.
Ownlee one thing of note has hapened since ariving: a local girl has gon mising, presoomablee murdered. I am asisting on the kase, as the suspect apeers to be Orlesian.
She paused there, again. How much should she tell? Should she mention her fight with Teagan at the door of the chantry? Did Anora need to know about their relationship now that it was quite certainly at least changed, if not ended?
No.
She didn't need to know.
If a leter cood make it here befor the month is up, new orders wood be much apreciated. Teagan is too ungarded for me to distrust what he has alredy said.
It remained true, no matter what she had said in the chantry. No, trust was not necessary for her to follow him, and she did not trust him about the Orlesian - but she trusted him in other things.
The rest of the night, she spent reading over all the writing samples, wishing once more that she had the Orlesian letter.
She fell asleep at her desk.
Just as she had the night before she had fled Rainsfere, she slept uneasily. She was plagued by dreams- nightmares- of her years serving Loghain, of every time she had offered counsel and he had rejected it or, later still, pulled her away from the conversation with a kiss, a touch. It wasn't the real Loghain that plagued her; it was a hollow-eyed man whom she could no longer recognize, who made her flinch and feel ashamed with every kiss. She fought back.
It did no good.
She woke up sometime soon after drawn, sprawled across the letters, her inkwell knocked over. The floor and the edge of her desk were stained black, and she cursed as she pushed herself up to standing, rubbed at her face. Last night-
The dreams came back all too vividly, and Cauthrien swallowed.
She didn't want to do that again.
Two nights ago, she had begun relearning, reinventing. She had wanted that then, had wanted it more than anything, and it had felt good, wonderful, perfect. She had forgotten for just a night what she had been before and made something new. And she would throw that all away just to fall into her old role again? After she had realized, that twisting wrenching feeling, that Teagan was right when he said that Loghain had used her?
Would bow her head and tell him to use her instead?
No.
She had to find Teagan. She had to at least ask to see the letter, but more importantly, she had to tell him that; that she had been mistaken the night before, that she could be a sword but that she refused to be it any longer, and that- Maker, she-
She shoved the thought aside and changed her clothing, all but stumbled out into the hall, determined to find him. She went first to his bedroom, uncaring for the first time if there was any audience, and knocked.
There was no answer, only two servants approaching from down the hall, watching her with cautious frowns.
She knocked again, but there was not even a sound from within. His office, then; her long strides carried her to it too slowly for her comfort, and when she knocked there, there was again no answer.
If she could find Raud, she thought, she could ask the seneschal where Teagan was. He would know. But where to find him? She couldn't remember seeing him without Teagan, had no idea of where he moved, what he did when he wasn't pressing Teagan to work. She paced. Her steps took her towards the dining hall, though she slowed and approached warily when she heard the creak of a bench.
She stopped in the doorway, finding that her feet refused to move. Teagan was there. Breakfast was laid out, and he was eating without his usual languid ease. His brow was furrowed.
She had never known this, this embarrassed shame for something she might be able to still fix, that was between a person and a person and not between armies or opposing groups. For so long she had existed in realms of power and ideas, her personal life set aside whenever possible after she took up a sword. She didn't know how to do this. Did she just walk up to him? Walk up to him, stare him down, and tell him I want to trust you?
Tell him I won't do with you what I did with him?
She swallowed, hard, her heart trying to lodge itself in her throat. She shoved it back down.
It was only Teagan.
It was Teagan. She still disagreed with him, but Maker damn her, she couldn't fight him or give up and follow blindly. She needed something else. He had to know what that was. He had to.
Maker damn her, there was a girl missing and she could only think of them.
She straightened her shoulders and walked over to the table, slipping into the seat across from him as if nothing had happened. She reached for food, poured water from the pitcher into her cup, hands sliding on the condensation-dotted metal. It wasn't until she was settled that she looked up to him.
He met her gaze and his jaw was clenched. After a tense moment in which he said nothing, he pushed back from the table, collected his things and stood up.
She swallowed, knowing he would leave. If she didn't stop him, he would leave. The words caught in her throat and she found herself staring blankly up at him, lips parted.
Softly, her voice wavering with nervousness and confusion as to what she was doing, she said, "Last night. I'm s- I'm sorry."
The muscles in his jaw contracted, tensing and when they relaxed, he frowned. "Ser Cauthrien," he said, voice flat. Without any acknowledgement of her apology, he crossed the room and walked to his office.
He was- he was running again.
She'd let him run the night before, and perhaps that had been for the best. She had needed time. She had pushed him into running, by the end. But right here, right now-
No, she would not let him run.
She rose without eating, stalking after him. He had already left the room, but the only place she could think he was going was his office. And that was where she found him standing by his desk, hand tight on the wood behind him. She stepped into his office before he could cross the room to close the door.
She shut it tight behind her.
"Teagan."
He watched her, eyes flashing with anger. His hands clenched, flexed, and he forced them flat again. He held his ground, arched a brow at her and still said nothing.
She needed words, words she didn't really have. She forced them out anyway, halting and stumbling. "Last night-" Last night. Last night, with all her anger, all the frustration, the wounded pride.
But that wasn't important, not now when he looked so angry. He hadn't looked like this after she had threatened to run him through, or after she had thrashed him in the yard. He hadn't looked like this when she had first ridden into his home.
She took a deep breath.
"The other day- you told me not to live in the past, and I said that I wouldn't, but I wasn't listening. Not really. You- you saw that last night. Well- now I am."
"And what exactly does that mean?" he asked through still clenched teeth.
"I don't want to do it again. Following blindly." She found herself moving towards him, like he had when he had talked her down. "I want to trust you. And I want to be able to- to tell you my opinions without them-
"Without them being ignored," she finished, voice quieter. She was close enough to feel his warmth - another step and she'd be against him. "I want to trust you, but I won't do it just because it's you. I won't agree or follow just because-"
Her voice caught.
He shook his head and his shoulders relaxed a little. "I never asked you to follow."
She let out a sigh. "If you want me to understand and help, I- I'll need to trust you. I need to come to it on my own." She swallowed, hard. "It's only this. This investigation. That's the only place where I stopped trusting you.
"I still don't agree with your decision to let him return home. That hasn't changed. But I- I don't want to fight you over it. I want to actually work with somebody this time. I can't go back to how it was before. Not now."
She took that last half-step that brought them nearly chest to chest. She should have given him space, perhaps, should have backed away and left him to think, but she wanted him to understand that this was hard for her and that she wanted it anyway, that she regretted forcing him away the night before. That she had missed him.
"You said..." Teagan murmured, then dropped his gaze and closed his eyes for a moment. When he met her gaze again, he swallowed thickly. One of his hands reached for hers. "What changed?"
She colored at that. "I slept badly. Horrible dreams. About- about how it was eight months ago. I- Maker, that sounds stupid, but that was the reminder I needed." It shouldn't have been a dream. It should have been something he had said. Or done.
She looked down to where she had unconsciously twined their fingers together, then back up to him.
"... And you leaving last night. Eating dinner alone in my room. Assuming that whatever we'd been trying to fix before the mayor arrived - that I'd finally broken it. For good."
"No, not for good."
Cauthrien's lips twitched, just a little, and then she leaned in to brush her lips against his.
He returned the kiss, mouth fitting over hers. It wasn't gentle. It was needy and rough and filled with frustration. There was teeth there, along with insistent pressure, but then he pulled away. He took a step back from her. His teeth grabbed at his bottom lip, biting gently.
She wanted nothing more than to follow him, lose herself in touch so they could keep their mouths shut, keep their minds off of their work. But they did have work to do, words to speak, and so she let him pull away, not following.
"No," he whispered. "Not broken."
"Good," she said, smiling weakly. "I- I didn't want it to be. Last night-" She glanced away. "... My mother's sister was taken by the chevalier who held our land. Before I was born. But I was raised on stories about how he took her and we never saw her again. ... Her, a farmer's daughter, just like-" Edlyn.
Me.
"... It's personal. Even though I was trying not to let it be." She searched his face for any sign of understanding, and when he nodded, slowly, she relaxed.
"I want your help-" he started out, then paused, the muscles of his throat jumping as he swallowed. "I want us to do this together."
"Even if I don't agree with you all the time?"
"Even then."
She felt that small, nervous smile come back, and she took a deep breath. "... We need to figure out what my role in this is. As investigator for the Queen. Who is in charge, that sort of thing."
He took a breath, nodded. "That’s wise. Ultimately, these people have pledged themselves to me. They could pledge themselves to a different bann, but they choose me. That makes me responsible for them in a way that the Queen isn’t." He nodded and then tilted his head just a little, looking at her for understanding. "Do you agree?"
Cauthrien nodded. "For all my- very loud opinions, yes, I do." She moved towards him again, but this time it was to lean against the desk near his side, shoulder to shoulder, not facing one another anymore. Her pulse was still strong in her wrists and belly, but when she looked up to him it was only with a small, allowing smile.
He watched her for just a moment, head canted, eyes half-lidded. "Then we are agreed," he murmured.
His eyes went to the door, where she had shut it behind her and then back to questioning little smile in return for hers. That decision behind them, he seemed more relaxed, hands resting lightly on the desk. After a moment of comfortable, almost pleased silence, he turned toward her, his hip against the desk and a hand sliding around to settle around her waist. She nearly withdrew, but then he bowed his head and touched his lips lightly to her throat and kissed the exposed skin there, drawing her closer to him.
There was still frustration there, a harder press of his fingers against her, an edge to his kisses with teeth against her neck - but there was relief, too, and longing, and she gasped, letting her head fall back. When she swallowed, she could feel her throat bob against his lips, his mouth sliding over her pulse, and she gripped the edge of the desk.
"Trust me," he murmured against her skin as he drew her to him and pressed her against the desk with the weight of his body. His voice sent shivering trembles through her. "That's all I want, just..."
A knock.
He didn't pull away, instead holding her more tightly still, and she let go of the desk to wrap her arms around him. He kissed a path up her throat until he could find her lips with his, nursing and teasing at her until she wanted nothing more than to let him push her back onto the desk again. She breathed his name when he pulled away to nip at her lower lip.
His name came, louder and more forcefully, from the other side of the door.
She swallowed, hands sliding to his chest to push him away. "Teagan," she repeated, more firmly, though her voice was thick and rough with need. If they could only let the world pass by for just a morning-
Whoever it was knocked again.
--
He heard the knock again, followed by his name. Raud’s voice. Cauthrien protested again, hands firm on his chest as though she might push him away, but her voice was breathy and soft and sounded as though if he’d wanted it, they could’ve ignored everything on the other side of that door. He wanted that too. But Raud would not give up so easily and though it might be obvious to an observant eye what they had been up to, he knew he should let the older man into the office. With a wicked sort of grin, he smiled at Cauthrien and slowly pulled away, letting his hands fall back to his sides.
"That’ll be Raud, I imagine."
He ran a quick hand through his hair, straightened his doublet and then strode to the door and opened it.
Behind him, Cauth gathered herself back together. He could hear the rustling of fabric, and when he glanced to her, she had the collar of her arming jacket tugged up and was standing with her hand braced against the back of the nearby chair.
Teagan looked back at the open door, and his seneschal in the doorway. "Good morning Raud," he said, perhaps too cheerfully, as he gestured the older man into the office. He tugged at his sleeves as he made his way back to his desk.
"Seneschal Raud," Cauthrien greeted, inclining her head slightly. He tried not to look at her but his eyes slid over her anyway, the relief he felt surging once more and bringing a small smile to his lips.
But, there was work and his reconciliation with Cauthrien would have to wait.
"Ser Cauthrien and I were just discussing last night." He focused on Raud and cleared his throat. "Is Gerald here yet? And does he have the other suspects with him?" His smile had fallen by those last words and he tugged at his shirt again, trying to concentrate on the task at hand and not the heat that was still dissipating from his body.
"He is indeed my lord," Raud said with only a cursory and disapproving look to Cauthrien. "And he has several gentlemen with him, yes."
"Then, we will meet them," Teagan said coming out from behind the desk and heading towards the door. His face still felt flush and as he walked passed Raud he pressed a cool hand to his cheek. Cauthrien was only a few steps behind him, Raud following on her heels, and it all felt too close. Too crowded.
At the door, he looked back, "Raud, could you please bring ink and parchment with you?" The older man looked at him levelly, lips still set in his disapproving frown, but he nodded and turned back to the desk.
Once he and Cauthrien were back in the hall, alone, he tried to remain business-like. He couldn’t help the playful smile on his lips, though. "I left the original letter in my room, will you need it? If so, tell me now and I’ll send Raud after that as well."
"It would certainly be appreciated. The other writing samples from last night are in my room, as well, though I don't think I'll need them immediately." She reached back to tighten her ponytail, then hesitated. "Did you leave any marks on me?" she asked, turning to him and nibbling at her lower lip. "That he would have been able to see?"
He was tempted to lean back in again, to kiss her, no matter how close Raud was. He resisted and merely tilted his head for a better view.
"No, none," he said shaking his head and managing to let a little disappointment slip into his voice. Though we can work on that later. With her returned to him, with the matter resolved- he forced the thoughts down. "You go ahead," he said, smoothing down the front of his doublet again. "I’ll ask Raud to grab the letter and catch up."
Cauthrien nodded, and he watched as she turned and headed with long, easy strides to the assembly hall.
With a quick turn on his heel he went back to the door of the office, and ducked his head inside. Raud was gathering blank parchment and looked up.
"My lord?"
"Raud-" he began, and then saw how full the man’s hands would be with parchment and ink. He stepped into the office for a moment, preparing to ask after the letter anyway. Instead he added, "Nevermind, carry on, I can do it myself."
Raud just nodded absentmindedly as Teagan exited the office. It only took a moment to reach his room and grab the folded letter. On his way back down the hall, he stopped at the door to Cauthrien’s guest chambers, thinking about what she had said about the writing samples.
With a shrug, he pushed her door open. Her desk was littered with samples, a letter to Anora she had been writing, his book The History of Rainesfere sitting open. There was also a small ink blotch on the desk and floor beneath it where it looked like it had spilled at some point. He grinned at the mess - it seemed odd, for what he knew of Cauthrien - and gathered up the samples.
While he checked to make sure he had all of them, he got a better look at her note to Anora. He frowned after reading the last few lines- and wondered when Cauthrien had written it. He tried to tell himself that was what he earned for snooping around her desk and forced himself out of the room, barely remembering to close the door behind him. He put aside the resumption of his nerves and frustrations, focusing again on her apology, on the feel of her mouth against his. It didn't help bring his mind back to the work, but it did quiet his uncertainty.
Quick as he could, he made his way back down the hall, to find Gerald, the suspects and Cauthrien.
When Teagan entered, she moved to help him, murmuring a quick thank you. He handed her all the samples, keeping the original letter out, and passed that to her last. He was reluctant to turn from her, wanting to shut out the rest of the world just a little longer, but he stepped away. He greeted Gerald and looked over the men that were with him.
Gerald made brief introductions. All of the men were from Rainesfere or the surrounding farms and all spoke at least a smattering of Orlesian. Teagan introduced Ser Cauthrien in turn, just as Raud was arriving with the blank parchment and the ink so the men could write their samples. He turned the five suspects over to Cauthrien, earning a small smile and a short nod of thanks for his trust.
While she worked, Teagan took Gerald to the side and asked after the girl’s parents and of her supposed betrothal.
"They did not think to mention it. According to Edlyn’s parents, they hadn't completely settled the matter with the intended." Gerald shrugged and then added, "They seemed surprised anyone knew."
Teagan nodded, "I think we may need to go out again today. I’d like to see the blood in the daylight- and I think Ser Cauthrien might as well." He fought down the impulse to look to her, instead asking, "Any news in town?"
"No, my lord," Gerald shook his head.
"Good. Stay close."
He gave the mayor another nod and went back to listen to Cauthrien’s discussions with the men, trying not to stare too intently at her neck, or follow the line of it down her body while she talked. When the last man had finished his writing sample, she thanked all of them in Common, and they all seemed relieved to be returned from Orlesian. She turned to look at Teagan.
"They're all good."
He let Gerald and Raud see them out, staying with Cauthrien and turning to speak with her quietly. "Gerald told me that the parents haven’t settled the betrothal, that’s why they didn’t think to mention it to anyone. There was nothing to tell, yet."
With a shrug he added, "He’ll be back, I told him we might want to go back out to the farm this afternoon. Might be good to take a look during the day."
Cauthrien nodded, slowly. "Then Edlyn must have told Èdouard about it, for him to have known."
"If she was his student and she was as upset as he made her sound, do you think she would have vented her frustrations? Would it be uncommon for a girl her age?"
She frowned, looking down at the letter and the man's writing sample. "Maybe not. I just wish we knew more about their relationship- no matter what it was. He's still our best lead. I doubt I'd have much luck talking to him now, but perhaps while we're in town, you could speak to him?"
"If he is all we have to go on, then by all means, I’ll question him again."
"None of the men brought in today could write half so well as whoever wrote this letter."
She did not say as Èdouard, but her insistent suspicions were clear as she continued. "We're left with only him, and there is something. His response- his explanation, it wasn't that of just a teacher. She never paid him, you know. Brought him things, on occasion, but nothing that would have earned his services, especially not when he only had a job as business at the butcher's allowed."
Teagan listened to her intently, nodding. He understood that they needed to talk to Èdouard again, no matter what either of them thought of the man.
"We’ll have Gerald ride back out with us to the farm then. On the way back we’ll stop at Èdouard’s and talk with him again."
He looked her over carefully, trying not to think about the letter to Anora on her desk. After a moment he found a smile and asked, "Is this a decent plan?"
She nodded, firmly. "Acceptable."
--
"Food first, though," she added with a wry smile.
She had been about to suggest that they look over the writing samples together, on the verge of asking for his opinion on Èdouard's, but then her stomach had reminded her with a painful, empty throb that she had skipped breakfast.
He waved a hand back towards the hall. "You go. Eat. I’ll find Gerald and update him. I’ll bring the letters too if you don’t want to carry them."
"I'll take care of them," she said, gathering up the dried samples and folding them carefully. She tucked them away, thinking to move them to her saddlebag when they rode out, or else leave them in her room.
She nodded one last time to Teagan and he gave her a faint smile before he turned and followed the other men out of the meeting hall. Cauthrien in turn moved towards the dining hall, running over once more the evidence - or lack of it - she had found in her questioning of the Rainesfere men.
She had followed the same procedure. She addressed them in Orlesian, spoke to them about day-to-day things, noting those who could understand her words but could no long respond. She had no fear that any were hiding their knowledge - that would have come out in the wrong pattern of errors.
Two of the men she had ruled out from their conversation alone.
The writing test had been the same - just a few sentences, and two more of the men proved illiterate. That left one man, and while he could write, he could not write well.
Taking a seat and pulling food towards her, she frowned.
None of them could have written the letter, and she had told Teagan as much. She had made it clear that she still suspected Èdouard in the most allowing way she knew how; she only hoped that she had made progress in Teagan's agreement to talk to the Orlesian again.
She pulled only the original letter and Èdouard's sample out, reading them over and over again as she ate. She tried to finish her meal quickly, but her attention kept getting pulled to little turns of phrase. All the stars in the sky. Turn away - something in that was off. The lyricism in the note was clumsy in comparison, even if all the spelling and grammar were correct and were matches to what Èdouard had written her.
She couldn't set it straight in her mind, though, and she sighed, remembering to get down another piece of bread, another gulp of water.
Behind her, Teagan cleared his throat and she jumped.
"So, good reading then?"
"What? Oh-" She flushed, sitting up straighter and gathering the papers together, the original letter on top. She still wasn't ready to show them to him again, not yet, and she didn't want questions.
He didn't ask any. Instead, he rounded the table and sat down where he had been earlier that morning. After picking at some bread, he gave her a smile.
"You should put those down for a minute, eat something substantial."
"I didn't mean to delay us," she said, and she began to eat in earnest. A part of her suggested she slow down, though, with Teagan sitting across from her and smiling. After all, she had longed for this moment earlier in the day. A few more bites and she set her fork down, her appetite no longer quite so ravenous.
He quirked a brow. "Finished then? Everything should be prepared for us to ride out as soon as you’re ready." After taking a last drink, he pushed away from the table and stood up.
"I can be ready now," she said, picking up Èdouard's sample and the note and tucking them away with the others. Her stomach grumbled that she should have eaten more, but she smiled at him and circled around the table to join him. They walked to the stables together.
--
When they arrived back at the farm, they didn’t need much help to find their way back to the spot where the blood had been- where they thought Edlyn had disappeared from. The ground was still stained but it was already fading into the grass and dirt and Teagan didn’t think it would be there much longer.
"It’s already disappearing," he said as they approached.
He bent down, as he and Cauthrien had the day before and looked closer at the ground. He frowned at it and tapped the soil with a finger thoughtfully. Something was off, aside from there being too little blood.
Looking up at Gerald, he asked, "Was no one in the house when she disappeared?" Then to both Cauthrien and Gerald, "Did no one hear her?"
Gerald shrugged, "Her mother was inside all day, she said. Didn’t hear a thing."
Teagan shook his head and stared at the ground. "You would think she would make some noise... that someone would have heard her."
"If she was taken from here alive, if she struggled, almost certainly," Cauthrien said, looking between the two men for a moment before she crouched down, hands running over the grass. She made three passes before pausing, a frown creasing her brow. She picked up something, holding it up to the light - a hair, short and straight, dark brown and perhaps three to four inches at the longest
"How did Edlyn wear her hair? And what color was it?"
Gerald looked at Cauthrien, then to her hand. "She had light hair. I believe her mother said she had it in a braid the last they saw her." He looked to Teagan, an worried expression on his face, and shook his head. "That’s not hers."
Teagan raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun and looked back to the treeline where Cauthrien had said the blood trail led. He sighed. There hadn't been enough blood, she had been next to the house, but if she had made a sound it wasn’t loud enough to get anyone’s attention, and it wasn't her hair in the grass.
"So," Teagan started, looking back at the ground and then to strand of hair Cauthrien held, though it was hard to make out in the light. "Who does that belong to, then?"
"Èdouard," she said, slowly, tensely, "has blonde hair to his chin. So it is not his." She plucked a few more of the strands from the grass. She stood, bringing them over to show Teagan.
She added, "... I don't think this is human."
Warily, he looked at the strand. "So, what does it belong to? What animal?" With a glance back to the ground he added, "That may fit with the matter of the blood- if it’s not human-"
With the letter and the blood, it looked obviously like something had taken place on that spot the night before. Now, they were looking at the hair of what- an animal? Perhaps the blood of the same - or had she been attacked? If so, why didn’t she scream out?
Teagan shook his head. "So, where do we go from here? Do you still want to talk to Èdouard again?"
"We should." She growled softly, pinching at the bridge of her nose. "I've been reading over that damn letter all morning, and there's something- off about it. I can't figure out what it is, though. But it's not like the writing sample he gave us.
"I'm still not comfortable with how he reacted to knowing about her betrothal, though. He may know something."
Tegan nodded and looked thoughtfully at Cauthrien. If the letter was wrong-
"Gerald, are her parents nearby? Ser Cauthrien and I will ride back to town to speak with Èdouard. See if Edlyn ever received other letters like the one we found here- if he wrote her once, maybe he wrote her before?"
"I'll see to it, my lord."
He tucked his braid behind his ear and added, to Cauthrien, "Maybe there will be another letter you can study after we speak with Èdouard.
She looked to Teagan. "I still think you should be the one to sit down with him." She paused before continuing, "Your Orlesian is good enough, yes?"
"You heard me last night, did you not? What do you think?" He gave her a cautious smile, aware that Gerald was still nearby.
"Could use some practice," she said, but it was surprisingly light and accompanied with an answering smile, and she shrugged. "But more than good enough for this."
He barely managed to restrain his smile to keep from teasing her in turn. Instead, he looked away from her and schooled his expression. Catching Gerald's eye, he said, "Bring anything you find to us, either at Èdouard’s or at my estate."
The mayor nodded and disappeared around the corner of the house in search of Edlyn’s parents. Teagan hoped that there might be something else for them, another clue that would get them closer to figuring out what happened to the girl.
"I haven’t had much need of it," he said, turning back to Cauthrien with an open smile now that Gerald had gone. It was an odd moment - playful, despite the circumstances - and it made Teagan eager to be away from the house.
"We should go," he said and gestured back towards their horses. "Unless there’s something else you want to look for?"
"There is. A moment?" She went back to where she had found the blood trail the night before and bent her head to it in brighter light. She made it further out this time before seem to lose it, turning to walk back. And then she hesitated and continued in the direction the trail had been going. It had been nearly a straight line, and led to the hedgerow.
He followed behind at a distance, watching. At twenty paces, she froze for a moment, then shook her head. She picked up her pace to a jog and called out for Teagan to follow.
As he approached the spot where Cauthrien had paused, he caught the first unmistakable note of rot on the air. The closer he got to her, the stronger the smell.
"What is that?" he asked when he first saw the shadowed bulk of something lying at Cauthrien's feet.
It wasn’t human, but it was dead and broken and it smelled awful. It wasn’t as bad as darkspawn, or a battlefield of dead soldiers, but it was still strong. As he took a few steps closer, the mass started to take on a shape in the shadows of the trees.
"... Is that a goat?"
Cauthrien pulled the animal's head up by one horn. "Goat, yes. Fresh, too. Not more than a day."
The animal, where it wasn't covered in blood, was a dark brown color. It had a rope tied around its neck, and when she probed the area with her fingers, she frowned. "Windpipe crushed, I think."
When he could take his eyes from it at last, he looked around the area. Besides the area where he and Cauthrien stood, there were a few indentations in the ground. He took a step back, then crouched to get a better look.
"Footprints?" he asked, glancing up to her.
She turned to look where he was looking, letting the animal's head fall back to the ground. She crouched down, uncaring of the mud or the rotting animal beside her. "... Yes, I think so." Cauthrien tilted her head, frowned. "... Two sets?"
He studied the ground near Cauthrien. "It does look like two sets. If she’s alive, was she here? Is she uninjured?" He shook his head, frowning. The more they found, the less it made sense. "Did someone bring her here- did she follow someone?"
After a moment, he stood and took another look around the area, avoiding the goat carcass and the footsteps surrounding it.
Cauthrien stayed where she was, watching him. "I don't know. Do you know how tall she was?" One of the sets of footprints appeared small - but she was tall and so both sets were smaller than her own. It was hard to tell. "One set of prints is larger than the other, but I'm not sure what that means. She could have been here. But- with who?"
She frowned, rising and looking down at the goat. "... Unless whoever did this was experienced with animals, killing a goat like this would take a lot of work. You'd need two people." Cauthrien sighed. "She might not even be injured - it's possible that none of that blood was hers. This goat," she said, tapped one of its hooves with her toe, "is bled out." Her brow furrowed. "Do you think-"
She hesitated.
"... Perhaps she didn't go with Èdouard unwillingly? Two sets of footsteps away from here..."
"It’s possible."
He was less certain now that Èdouard had not been involved. Cauthrien’s idea about the blood, made it at least seem plausible. But if Edlyn had gone willingly, why had they wanted to make it look like a violent death?
He sighed. "So that still means we go talk to Èdouard and see if there’s anything else that he knows." Teagan shrugged, uncertain of what else they could do. He started back for the treeline, sparing a glance for Cauthrien as he passed her.
Cauthrien followed him out, wiping her hands on her thighs. "If Edlyn is still alive- and more importantly, since it appears none of the blood was hers to begin with, unharmed-" She frowned. "... We need to tell the family. If not today, then soon."
He nodded but continued towards his horse. "We’ll talk to Èdouard. And wait for word from Gerald about the possibility there were other letters."
As he stopped, ready to mount his horse, he looked back to Cauthrien. "But, you’re right. If we don’t know anything else more than that- they should know that she might be out there somewhere. I’m just not sure that’s much better, if we can’t find her."
"At least she wasn't killed right outside of their home, with nobody there to hear it. They should know that." Cauthrien smiled tightly, then swung up onto Calenhad's back. "After the day's investigations, we'll tell them."
"You’re right, I suppose. It’s better to know." He shook his head and then mounted his horse.
"Though I probably shouldn't be there," she added after a pause, one hand resting on the horn of her saddle.
"I think you should be," he countered easily. "It’s good for people to see you helping."
"If you think so," she said as she swung up into her saddle.
"I do."
It was not only for slightly selfish reasons that he wanted to include her. He had already told her that people were moving on, learning to live after the Blight. It was good to see someone like Cauthrien also moving on - doing what she could - even if that meant just helping a family find their daughter and not somehow setting right, all the damage her actions or inactions had caused.
It might not make up for everything, but it was a start.
He wanted to say more about it, about her help, and he even opened his mouth again to do so. But as the thoughts came to him he dismissed them. He worried how they might sound to her, especially coming from him and especially in the wake of the night before.
So instead, he shrugged and said, "Let’s go."
She nodded, nudging Calenhad's flanks to get him moving. The horse whickered as she pulled him away from the discarded apple core he'd found, but then moved into an easy trot as they headed north, towards town.
Cauthrien spoke again once Edlyn's farm was firm behind them. "We should also talk to the butcher, Oswin. See if he noticed anything odd about Edlyn the last time she came by. I also want to know how often and why she was there- her family should have been raising and slaughtering at least some of their own meat at this time of the year. She may have been by more often because of Èdouard."
He considered. She was right, of course; if Edlyn spent any time at the butcher’s then Oswin should know her and her family.
"It's a good idea. Do you want to go there, to try and talk to Oswin while I go to talk with Èdouard again? If so, we might learn more, more quickly?"
"And it will make Èdouard more likely to cooperate if I'm absent," she said, smiling grimly. "Is it on the main square of town? We can meet up afterwards back at Edlyn's family's farm."
"They’re not so far from each other- Èdouard’s house is close to Oswin’s shop. We can meet back at the farm, or we can meet up outside depending on how we finish."
Cauthrien nodded. He didn’t press the issue further, knowing that they would figure it out once they arrived. He smiled at her and pressed forward; she kept close behind him as they entered the town proper. She rode close enough to Teagan to catch his eye and give him a small, lighter smile, one of camaraderie and not nervousness, not focus on the job
"I'll look for you when I'm done," she said and broke away from him.
That smile she gave him, it was- friendly. It was nice. He watched her ride on before nudging his horse down towards Èdouard’s house. There were still guards out front and looked much the same as it had the night before. He knocked out of courtesy but proceeded inside to talk to Èdouard without giving the Orlesian much time to respond.
After seeing Teagan in through the front door, Èdouard sat back at the small table set up by the hearth. Teagan thought the older man looked defeated, hands folded in front of him on the table. It also looked like he might not have slept much the night before. As much as Teagan wanted to think this man was innocent, he couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was real, how much was contrived, or if the late night had been from hiding something from him or his guards.
Teagan sat across from Èdouard and tried to smile, tried to appear pleasant. "Monsieur Èdouard," he began, "I need to ask you a few more questions, please." There was a hint of tension to his voice, and he tried to focus on his Orlesian, remembering Cauthrien’s teasing.
"Certainly, Bann Teagan," he said. "Has there been no news about Edlyn?" Èdouard's brows furrowed in worry.
Teagan shook his head, braid coming loose from behind his ear. He tucked it away and bowed his head, building up confidence for his next question. "No. I came hoping you could better explain to me about your relationship with her."
Èdouard frowned and then waved a hand angrily at Teagan. "I explained to that... woman yesterday."
"I know," Teagan said. He watched Èdouard for a moment. There was something to this man’s outrage. He remembered the question that Cauthrien had asked just as Teagan had arrived back at the chantry the night before. He wasn’t sure that it was an necessary question, but he agreed that there was something else worth investigating here.
"But I need to know why she would tell you about her betrothal when it wasn’t finalized yet. Or why she was so intent to learn Orleasian- to move to Orlais? Or let’s start with why you wouldn’t take payment for her lessons."
Èdouard shrugged. "I already said- I met her after I moved here. She wanted to learn Orlesian and I helped her." He was angrier now, dark eyes flashing as he looked at Teagan. "I was also new here when I met her the first time- when she asked about it. It’s just a language, it felt wrong to take her money."
With a sigh, Teagan rose to his feet. He knew how strongly Cauthrien believed there was something more here- that something about Èdouard seemed wrong. But Teagan didn’t see it. He saw a man that had come back to his land to make a new, different life for himself and who had tried to do something decent for a neighbor, perhaps as a way to atone for something he had never done.
Still, they needed anything he knew. He stayed close to the table, one hand settled on the wood. "I’m sorry. What about her betrothal? Why would she tell you?"
"Because she had just learned of it the day before- because she didn’t want it- she wanted to tell someone?" Èdouard gestured absently and shook his head again. Then, he smiled a bit sadly and added, "Her head was always in the clouds. Dreaming. The betrothal, it- it was unexpected- she was very sad about it."
Teagan listened, and to him it sounded as though Édouard had thought it all very innocent. Edlyn was innocent to him. Otherwise, if he was lying, then he was very, very good at it. He reminded himself to check with the guards outside again before he left, just to be sure they hadn’t seen anything strange the night before. It was all he and Cauthrien had right now.
He switched back to Common as he inclined his head and said, "Thank you Èdouard. I’m sorry we’ve had to do this again."
Èdouard also stood and after a moment, he nodded. "I think I understand. I do hope the little flower is alright."
Teagan had started to step away from the table, but with that, he turned back to Èdouard, fixing him with a stern glance, a break from his pleasant, noble appearance. "And what is that? Little flower?"
The other man flinched and then gave him a curious glance, brow arched in question. "Little flower? It- It’s a nickname I used for her- she was so interested in learning and it was the first thing I gave her to practice."
Teagan’s shoulders relaxed again and he leaned away, turning back towards the door. It made sense, in a way- though it seemed more... grandfatherly, something Èdouard wasn’t. It was the one thing that, with Edlyn’s note, that still seemed too strange- still gave them reason to suspect him.
And yet even that, Teagan couldn't doubt as much as he had.
Finally, he nodded, "Thank you for your time Èdouard."
Outside, he confirmed with both guards that Èdouard had not left the house over night, or through the morning. Neither of them reported anything out of the ordinary, nor had Èdouard attempted to leave, or do anything other than offer the both of them breakfast. Too kind for a man locked in his home. And Teagan was starting to really believe that was just the sort of man Èdouard was, a kindly Orlesian, the last thing most Fereldens would expect of him.
--
After Calenhad was tied to a hitching post, Cauthrien hesitated outside the the butcher shop. Interrogating an Orlesian man was one thing. Questioning a working Rainsfere native? Quite another.
For one thing, he would be predisposed to hate her from the beginning.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and went in.
She was met by the odor and noise of several chickens and ducks, along with the smell of smoked, cured, and raw meat. She hadn't had the opportunity to be in a butcher's store in many years, and for a moment, it was overwhelming. There were two people in the room besides herself and a man who from his apron appeared to be the butcher himself. They were engaged in haggling over the haunch of a cow. Cauthrien stood back and let it wash over her, observing who she thought must be Oswin.
He was older than Èdouard, a tall man with muscular arms and a round belly, a moustache that drooped off of his face, and very little remaining hair on his head. He had a soft voice and small, sharp eyes. He said little, but as far as she could tell, the transaction went in his favor.
And when they were left alone, he barely spared her a glance before walking behind his work table and counter, where a half of what looked like a lamb lay in the middle of being disassembled into various cuts.
"Yes?"
"Are you Oswin?" she asked, stepping more fully into the room and taking a closer look at some sausages that hung from one of the hooks in the rafters.
She almost didn't catch his nod.
"I'm here on behalf of Bann Teagan, and the family of a girl, Edlyn."
"She dead?"
"Missing," she clarified after a brief pause. "I'm looking into her disappearance."
"I heard," he said, lifting a thin-bladed boning knife and setting to work defleshing the tips of a cut of rib, "that you think Èdouard's involved? Whole town's talking about it today, along with how our bann is working with the woman who would have killed us all."
He didn't look up at her, and so he didn't see her flinch. "Both of those things are true," she grudgingly admitted, "though I am here now to assist."
He grunted, continuing to work.
"I only have a few questions," Cauthrien continued, "and I would be grateful if you could answer them."
"I'm working."
"I can see that, yes," she said, one hand clenching into a fist at her side. "As am I. Perhaps we can both work at the same time."
"And if I don't feel like talking to you?" He finally glanced up. "Going to accuse me of treason against Ferelden?"
This time he did see her flinch- and look away, jaw clenching. "No. I will just thank you for your time, leave, and ask Bann Teagan if he would be able to sit with you instead."
"He listen to you a lot?"
"Only when he likes what I have to say."
That earned her a laugh, and it surprised her into looking back to him. "Smart man, our bann. Always has been." Oswin grinned at her for a brief moment, then shook her head and set down his knife, leaning forward, his bared elbows gaining a fresh stain of red where he rested them against the wood of the table. "Ask away, then. I'll kick you out if I don't like what you have to say, I guess."
Cauthrien nodded, and came closer to the table.
"Let's start with the girl, Edlyn. How long has she been coming here?"
Oswin shrugged. "A few years. Since she was old enough to, at least."
"Her family owns livestock, though - at least chickens and a few pigs, from what I saw."
"Aye, but not cattle. And sometimes they're too busy to take care of spring slaughterings, so Edlyn would bring the animals to town for me to do the work for them." He shrugged. "Common enough, with the small farms here."
Cauthrien nodded. "How often would she come in, then? Once a year?"
"A few times. At first it was just once or twice a year, but she was coming more often, last little bit. Once a month - sometimes more. Said her mother had taken a liking to some of the sausages I make." He looked momentarily pleased and proud of that, and Cauthrien considered purchasing some for Teagan's kitchens in return.
"When did she meet Èdouard? When you hired him?"
"A few months after that."
"Is that when she first started coming more often?"
Oswin frowned, then shrugged. "Maybe. Hard to tell. But yeah, I guess it was around the same time. They interacted a little."
Cauthrien pursed her lips, coming to lean on the other side of the table. "What sorts of jobs did you have Èdouard doing? Did he help with slaughtering the animals?" Her mind went to the goat in the hedgerow.
"No, he didn't always have the stomach for it. I usually take them out in the yard out back for that - Èdouard would stay in here. I taught him how to make sausages and brines and how to take apart a chicken. That's about it."
Cauthrien nodded. He wouldn't have been able to handle the goat on his own, then. He would have needed a second person.
"Did you know he was teaching Edlyn, Orlesian? When he wasn't working for you?"
Oswin shrugged again. "No idea when he started, but the last few times she came by, she would use it to say hello to him. So yeah, I knew."
"And that he wasn't charging her?"
"He's not the sort to." Oswin wiped a hand on his apron, then ran a hand over his balding head. "So it doesn't surprise me."
Cauthrien drummed her fingers on the wood, her question from the night before rising quickly to the forefront of her mind again. "To the best of your knowledge, were they- involved?"
That earned another laugh, but it was dark and more than a little insulted. "None of my business. But no, I don't think so. She was- is- a naive sort of girl, head in the clouds. And Èdouard's got eyes for more mature women, no matter how much trouble that gets him into. Besides, my boy, Owen- he would've said something."
"He would have?"
"Was sweet on Edlyn for a while, back when she first started coming around. I warned him off of her fast, though. Too young. And when he's older, he'll need the sort of woman who doesn't mind getting her hands dirty. Edlyn shirks - don't need her sort in the shop here as anything but a customer."
Cauthrien looked around, frowning. "Is Owen here?"
"No. He's off on a trip to the next town over, picking up an order of salt from me, come all the way from the Waking Sea."
"When did he leave?"
Oswin leaned back and picked up his knife again, going back to work. Cauthrien took the hint and straightened, stepping back.
"Yesterday. He went to one of the other farms, over west, to pick up one of their wethers they wanted me to take care of. Their fields just flooded - they've been too busy to bring it in to town themselves.
"Of course, the fool boy let the thing get loose," he sighed. "But it'll turn up sooner or later - will probably find its way right back home. Wethers'll do that, sometimes, like a good dog. Anyway, Owen stopped in, gave the bad news, and I sent him on over to Hertwig."
Cauthrien frowned, crossing her arms over her chest, fingers resuming their tattoo on her upper arm. She wanted to talk to the boy- especially if he had once had a crush on Edlyn. It was always possible, after all, that he had just gotten very good at hiding that crush from his father.
But it still didn't fit, not quite, not even as Èdouard looked less likely.
She was just about to ask if the boy could write when Oswin interrupted her. "No reason to talk about Owen, though- like I said, he's been doing work for me the last few days." He fixed her with an unwavering, challenging gaze, and Cauthrien backed down.
"Of course," she said, despite her lingering uncertainty. "Edlyn- when she started coming more often, was it on days Èdouard was working?"
"No." His gaze turned to a glare. "Èdouard," he said, voice turning caustic, "is a good man, especially for an Orlesian. A bit odd, and reclusive, but a good man."
"We found a letter-"
"Not interested. Èdouard is a good man. End of discussion. He didn't go trying to look up Edlyn's skirts, not recently, not when they first met." He shook his head, lifted his blade to point it to the door. "And as I'm not liking what you're implying - trying to keep on accusing one of my neighbors - I think it's time for you to go."
"But if he did-"
"If he did, the Maker will reveal him, not you."
Cauthrien opened her mouth to protest, to push on about the letter, but instead retreated. She still had questions, so many of them, about Èdouard and about Edlyn and about Owen, but she closed her mouth tight and reached for the door instead.
The only words she let out were, "I'm sorry to have taken your time, Oswin." And then she stepped out onto the street, taking a shuddering breath.
In the war, she would have arrested the man for refusing to cooperate, may have even had him tortured. But things done in war were done in war only, and were done still with a sense of reluctance, a distant knowledge that those actions were not ones carried out happily. To think of them now-
No.
She looked around for Teagan, or at least his horse, and when she saw him just across the way, she smiled tightly and turned back to Calenhad.
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: 10,352
Warnings: None
Summary: Trust is damaged and repaired, and the two visit the town again in search of evidence. (Ao3) (FF)
Notes: War is Never Cheap Here will be updating weekly, on Fridays. Projected length looking like twelve chapters.
Last week, we put out a fanmix for War is Never Cheap Here - go take a look!
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Chapter Seven
Trust always has been meaningless.
Her words echoed in his mind as he rode home from the chantry. Their whole argument repeated in his mind faintly, but those words, they stuck in him. Meaningless. Trust was what he needed from Cauthrien, what he wanted most of all. He was frustrated- devastated to have been mistaken. He thought she had trusted him, that it was why she had returned home with him, and why she had let him teach her.
That she hadn't done it because he was some great leader, but because even if she wasn’t certain about him- about what had happened between them, she trusted that he was.
Because she wanted to.
He left his horse to be tended to in the stables upon his arrival at the keep and then went in search of what remained of dinner. There was stew left, and he sat at the low table in the kitchen, staring down into his bowl. It felt as though the whole room held an echo of his laughter from the night when he had found her there, wallowing in guilt, with a drink in her hands.
For a while, he tried to eat or drink, but found it hard to do either. Not in that room, not when he could picture her sitting across from him, joking, flirting. Bann Disappointment. Eventually, he grabbed his bowl, a tankard of ale, and took them to his room. It was quieter there, and there at least he could eat his meal in peace and not risk running into her when she returned.
Sleep came slowly that night.
He woke several times, each one with Cauthrien’s words still echoing in his head. Twice, he rose and paced his room until he was tired again. Eventually, he opened his eyes to find the barest hint sunlight was finally peeking through his window and unwilling to fight to sleep again, he got up, dressed, and returned his dishes to the kitchen.
The long night did little to make him less upset and if he let himself think about her, it was worse.
He didn't want to argue with her further about Èduourd. And for the time being, he didn’t think he was ready to confront her about his opinions on matters of trust. He still wanted her- still wanted to feel as though she trusted him, and not just during the investigation they were beginning.
Unsure of whether to sit at breakfast as though nothing had happened, or whether to start the morning alone in his office, he found a compromise. He went to his office and grabbed a handful of letters and reports that needing tending to. He brought everything to the dining table and spread his work out in front of him.
With his attention focused on work, he at least was able to ignore his thoughts of Cauthrien, of the investigation- anything about the previous day.
--
She sat up late that night, writing to Anora. At first, out of spite, she thought to simply write as she always had. Instead, she pulled out The History of Rainesfere and kept it open on her desk as she wrote, to double-check her spelling. The book didn't always help, but it made her feel slightly more confident. And it gave her mindless work to keep herself distracted.
Have not fownd out much more about Teagan's motivs. He remanes a deesent horse man and servisable with a sword, though it would apeer he has becom rustee in the last few months.
Ownlee won thing of note
Several things of note, really, but so many of them seemed pointless by candlelight, sitting alone and eating stew already gone cold.
Ownlee one thing of note has hapened since ariving: a local girl has gon mising, presoomablee murdered. I am asisting on the kase, as the suspect apeers to be Orlesian.
She paused there, again. How much should she tell? Should she mention her fight with Teagan at the door of the chantry? Did Anora need to know about their relationship now that it was quite certainly at least changed, if not ended?
No.
She didn't need to know.
If a leter cood make it here befor the month is up, new orders wood be much apreciated. Teagan is too ungarded for me to distrust what he has alredy said.
It remained true, no matter what she had said in the chantry. No, trust was not necessary for her to follow him, and she did not trust him about the Orlesian - but she trusted him in other things.
The rest of the night, she spent reading over all the writing samples, wishing once more that she had the Orlesian letter.
She fell asleep at her desk.
Just as she had the night before she had fled Rainsfere, she slept uneasily. She was plagued by dreams- nightmares- of her years serving Loghain, of every time she had offered counsel and he had rejected it or, later still, pulled her away from the conversation with a kiss, a touch. It wasn't the real Loghain that plagued her; it was a hollow-eyed man whom she could no longer recognize, who made her flinch and feel ashamed with every kiss. She fought back.
It did no good.
She woke up sometime soon after drawn, sprawled across the letters, her inkwell knocked over. The floor and the edge of her desk were stained black, and she cursed as she pushed herself up to standing, rubbed at her face. Last night-
The dreams came back all too vividly, and Cauthrien swallowed.
She didn't want to do that again.
Two nights ago, she had begun relearning, reinventing. She had wanted that then, had wanted it more than anything, and it had felt good, wonderful, perfect. She had forgotten for just a night what she had been before and made something new. And she would throw that all away just to fall into her old role again? After she had realized, that twisting wrenching feeling, that Teagan was right when he said that Loghain had used her?
Would bow her head and tell him to use her instead?
No.
She had to find Teagan. She had to at least ask to see the letter, but more importantly, she had to tell him that; that she had been mistaken the night before, that she could be a sword but that she refused to be it any longer, and that- Maker, she-
She shoved the thought aside and changed her clothing, all but stumbled out into the hall, determined to find him. She went first to his bedroom, uncaring for the first time if there was any audience, and knocked.
There was no answer, only two servants approaching from down the hall, watching her with cautious frowns.
She knocked again, but there was not even a sound from within. His office, then; her long strides carried her to it too slowly for her comfort, and when she knocked there, there was again no answer.
If she could find Raud, she thought, she could ask the seneschal where Teagan was. He would know. But where to find him? She couldn't remember seeing him without Teagan, had no idea of where he moved, what he did when he wasn't pressing Teagan to work. She paced. Her steps took her towards the dining hall, though she slowed and approached warily when she heard the creak of a bench.
She stopped in the doorway, finding that her feet refused to move. Teagan was there. Breakfast was laid out, and he was eating without his usual languid ease. His brow was furrowed.
She had never known this, this embarrassed shame for something she might be able to still fix, that was between a person and a person and not between armies or opposing groups. For so long she had existed in realms of power and ideas, her personal life set aside whenever possible after she took up a sword. She didn't know how to do this. Did she just walk up to him? Walk up to him, stare him down, and tell him I want to trust you?
Tell him I won't do with you what I did with him?
She swallowed, hard, her heart trying to lodge itself in her throat. She shoved it back down.
It was only Teagan.
It was Teagan. She still disagreed with him, but Maker damn her, she couldn't fight him or give up and follow blindly. She needed something else. He had to know what that was. He had to.
Maker damn her, there was a girl missing and she could only think of them.
She straightened her shoulders and walked over to the table, slipping into the seat across from him as if nothing had happened. She reached for food, poured water from the pitcher into her cup, hands sliding on the condensation-dotted metal. It wasn't until she was settled that she looked up to him.
He met her gaze and his jaw was clenched. After a tense moment in which he said nothing, he pushed back from the table, collected his things and stood up.
She swallowed, knowing he would leave. If she didn't stop him, he would leave. The words caught in her throat and she found herself staring blankly up at him, lips parted.
Softly, her voice wavering with nervousness and confusion as to what she was doing, she said, "Last night. I'm s- I'm sorry."
The muscles in his jaw contracted, tensing and when they relaxed, he frowned. "Ser Cauthrien," he said, voice flat. Without any acknowledgement of her apology, he crossed the room and walked to his office.
He was- he was running again.
She'd let him run the night before, and perhaps that had been for the best. She had needed time. She had pushed him into running, by the end. But right here, right now-
No, she would not let him run.
She rose without eating, stalking after him. He had already left the room, but the only place she could think he was going was his office. And that was where she found him standing by his desk, hand tight on the wood behind him. She stepped into his office before he could cross the room to close the door.
She shut it tight behind her.
"Teagan."
He watched her, eyes flashing with anger. His hands clenched, flexed, and he forced them flat again. He held his ground, arched a brow at her and still said nothing.
She needed words, words she didn't really have. She forced them out anyway, halting and stumbling. "Last night-" Last night. Last night, with all her anger, all the frustration, the wounded pride.
But that wasn't important, not now when he looked so angry. He hadn't looked like this after she had threatened to run him through, or after she had thrashed him in the yard. He hadn't looked like this when she had first ridden into his home.
She took a deep breath.
"The other day- you told me not to live in the past, and I said that I wouldn't, but I wasn't listening. Not really. You- you saw that last night. Well- now I am."
"And what exactly does that mean?" he asked through still clenched teeth.
"I don't want to do it again. Following blindly." She found herself moving towards him, like he had when he had talked her down. "I want to trust you. And I want to be able to- to tell you my opinions without them-
"Without them being ignored," she finished, voice quieter. She was close enough to feel his warmth - another step and she'd be against him. "I want to trust you, but I won't do it just because it's you. I won't agree or follow just because-"
Her voice caught.
He shook his head and his shoulders relaxed a little. "I never asked you to follow."
She let out a sigh. "If you want me to understand and help, I- I'll need to trust you. I need to come to it on my own." She swallowed, hard. "It's only this. This investigation. That's the only place where I stopped trusting you.
"I still don't agree with your decision to let him return home. That hasn't changed. But I- I don't want to fight you over it. I want to actually work with somebody this time. I can't go back to how it was before. Not now."
She took that last half-step that brought them nearly chest to chest. She should have given him space, perhaps, should have backed away and left him to think, but she wanted him to understand that this was hard for her and that she wanted it anyway, that she regretted forcing him away the night before. That she had missed him.
"You said..." Teagan murmured, then dropped his gaze and closed his eyes for a moment. When he met her gaze again, he swallowed thickly. One of his hands reached for hers. "What changed?"
She colored at that. "I slept badly. Horrible dreams. About- about how it was eight months ago. I- Maker, that sounds stupid, but that was the reminder I needed." It shouldn't have been a dream. It should have been something he had said. Or done.
She looked down to where she had unconsciously twined their fingers together, then back up to him.
"... And you leaving last night. Eating dinner alone in my room. Assuming that whatever we'd been trying to fix before the mayor arrived - that I'd finally broken it. For good."
"No, not for good."
Cauthrien's lips twitched, just a little, and then she leaned in to brush her lips against his.
He returned the kiss, mouth fitting over hers. It wasn't gentle. It was needy and rough and filled with frustration. There was teeth there, along with insistent pressure, but then he pulled away. He took a step back from her. His teeth grabbed at his bottom lip, biting gently.
She wanted nothing more than to follow him, lose herself in touch so they could keep their mouths shut, keep their minds off of their work. But they did have work to do, words to speak, and so she let him pull away, not following.
"No," he whispered. "Not broken."
"Good," she said, smiling weakly. "I- I didn't want it to be. Last night-" She glanced away. "... My mother's sister was taken by the chevalier who held our land. Before I was born. But I was raised on stories about how he took her and we never saw her again. ... Her, a farmer's daughter, just like-" Edlyn.
Me.
"... It's personal. Even though I was trying not to let it be." She searched his face for any sign of understanding, and when he nodded, slowly, she relaxed.
"I want your help-" he started out, then paused, the muscles of his throat jumping as he swallowed. "I want us to do this together."
"Even if I don't agree with you all the time?"
"Even then."
She felt that small, nervous smile come back, and she took a deep breath. "... We need to figure out what my role in this is. As investigator for the Queen. Who is in charge, that sort of thing."
He took a breath, nodded. "That’s wise. Ultimately, these people have pledged themselves to me. They could pledge themselves to a different bann, but they choose me. That makes me responsible for them in a way that the Queen isn’t." He nodded and then tilted his head just a little, looking at her for understanding. "Do you agree?"
Cauthrien nodded. "For all my- very loud opinions, yes, I do." She moved towards him again, but this time it was to lean against the desk near his side, shoulder to shoulder, not facing one another anymore. Her pulse was still strong in her wrists and belly, but when she looked up to him it was only with a small, allowing smile.
He watched her for just a moment, head canted, eyes half-lidded. "Then we are agreed," he murmured.
His eyes went to the door, where she had shut it behind her and then back to questioning little smile in return for hers. That decision behind them, he seemed more relaxed, hands resting lightly on the desk. After a moment of comfortable, almost pleased silence, he turned toward her, his hip against the desk and a hand sliding around to settle around her waist. She nearly withdrew, but then he bowed his head and touched his lips lightly to her throat and kissed the exposed skin there, drawing her closer to him.
There was still frustration there, a harder press of his fingers against her, an edge to his kisses with teeth against her neck - but there was relief, too, and longing, and she gasped, letting her head fall back. When she swallowed, she could feel her throat bob against his lips, his mouth sliding over her pulse, and she gripped the edge of the desk.
"Trust me," he murmured against her skin as he drew her to him and pressed her against the desk with the weight of his body. His voice sent shivering trembles through her. "That's all I want, just..."
A knock.
He didn't pull away, instead holding her more tightly still, and she let go of the desk to wrap her arms around him. He kissed a path up her throat until he could find her lips with his, nursing and teasing at her until she wanted nothing more than to let him push her back onto the desk again. She breathed his name when he pulled away to nip at her lower lip.
His name came, louder and more forcefully, from the other side of the door.
She swallowed, hands sliding to his chest to push him away. "Teagan," she repeated, more firmly, though her voice was thick and rough with need. If they could only let the world pass by for just a morning-
Whoever it was knocked again.
--
He heard the knock again, followed by his name. Raud’s voice. Cauthrien protested again, hands firm on his chest as though she might push him away, but her voice was breathy and soft and sounded as though if he’d wanted it, they could’ve ignored everything on the other side of that door. He wanted that too. But Raud would not give up so easily and though it might be obvious to an observant eye what they had been up to, he knew he should let the older man into the office. With a wicked sort of grin, he smiled at Cauthrien and slowly pulled away, letting his hands fall back to his sides.
"That’ll be Raud, I imagine."
He ran a quick hand through his hair, straightened his doublet and then strode to the door and opened it.
Behind him, Cauth gathered herself back together. He could hear the rustling of fabric, and when he glanced to her, she had the collar of her arming jacket tugged up and was standing with her hand braced against the back of the nearby chair.
Teagan looked back at the open door, and his seneschal in the doorway. "Good morning Raud," he said, perhaps too cheerfully, as he gestured the older man into the office. He tugged at his sleeves as he made his way back to his desk.
"Seneschal Raud," Cauthrien greeted, inclining her head slightly. He tried not to look at her but his eyes slid over her anyway, the relief he felt surging once more and bringing a small smile to his lips.
But, there was work and his reconciliation with Cauthrien would have to wait.
"Ser Cauthrien and I were just discussing last night." He focused on Raud and cleared his throat. "Is Gerald here yet? And does he have the other suspects with him?" His smile had fallen by those last words and he tugged at his shirt again, trying to concentrate on the task at hand and not the heat that was still dissipating from his body.
"He is indeed my lord," Raud said with only a cursory and disapproving look to Cauthrien. "And he has several gentlemen with him, yes."
"Then, we will meet them," Teagan said coming out from behind the desk and heading towards the door. His face still felt flush and as he walked passed Raud he pressed a cool hand to his cheek. Cauthrien was only a few steps behind him, Raud following on her heels, and it all felt too close. Too crowded.
At the door, he looked back, "Raud, could you please bring ink and parchment with you?" The older man looked at him levelly, lips still set in his disapproving frown, but he nodded and turned back to the desk.
Once he and Cauthrien were back in the hall, alone, he tried to remain business-like. He couldn’t help the playful smile on his lips, though. "I left the original letter in my room, will you need it? If so, tell me now and I’ll send Raud after that as well."
"It would certainly be appreciated. The other writing samples from last night are in my room, as well, though I don't think I'll need them immediately." She reached back to tighten her ponytail, then hesitated. "Did you leave any marks on me?" she asked, turning to him and nibbling at her lower lip. "That he would have been able to see?"
He was tempted to lean back in again, to kiss her, no matter how close Raud was. He resisted and merely tilted his head for a better view.
"No, none," he said shaking his head and managing to let a little disappointment slip into his voice. Though we can work on that later. With her returned to him, with the matter resolved- he forced the thoughts down. "You go ahead," he said, smoothing down the front of his doublet again. "I’ll ask Raud to grab the letter and catch up."
Cauthrien nodded, and he watched as she turned and headed with long, easy strides to the assembly hall.
With a quick turn on his heel he went back to the door of the office, and ducked his head inside. Raud was gathering blank parchment and looked up.
"My lord?"
"Raud-" he began, and then saw how full the man’s hands would be with parchment and ink. He stepped into the office for a moment, preparing to ask after the letter anyway. Instead he added, "Nevermind, carry on, I can do it myself."
Raud just nodded absentmindedly as Teagan exited the office. It only took a moment to reach his room and grab the folded letter. On his way back down the hall, he stopped at the door to Cauthrien’s guest chambers, thinking about what she had said about the writing samples.
With a shrug, he pushed her door open. Her desk was littered with samples, a letter to Anora she had been writing, his book The History of Rainesfere sitting open. There was also a small ink blotch on the desk and floor beneath it where it looked like it had spilled at some point. He grinned at the mess - it seemed odd, for what he knew of Cauthrien - and gathered up the samples.
While he checked to make sure he had all of them, he got a better look at her note to Anora. He frowned after reading the last few lines- and wondered when Cauthrien had written it. He tried to tell himself that was what he earned for snooping around her desk and forced himself out of the room, barely remembering to close the door behind him. He put aside the resumption of his nerves and frustrations, focusing again on her apology, on the feel of her mouth against his. It didn't help bring his mind back to the work, but it did quiet his uncertainty.
Quick as he could, he made his way back down the hall, to find Gerald, the suspects and Cauthrien.
When Teagan entered, she moved to help him, murmuring a quick thank you. He handed her all the samples, keeping the original letter out, and passed that to her last. He was reluctant to turn from her, wanting to shut out the rest of the world just a little longer, but he stepped away. He greeted Gerald and looked over the men that were with him.
Gerald made brief introductions. All of the men were from Rainesfere or the surrounding farms and all spoke at least a smattering of Orlesian. Teagan introduced Ser Cauthrien in turn, just as Raud was arriving with the blank parchment and the ink so the men could write their samples. He turned the five suspects over to Cauthrien, earning a small smile and a short nod of thanks for his trust.
While she worked, Teagan took Gerald to the side and asked after the girl’s parents and of her supposed betrothal.
"They did not think to mention it. According to Edlyn’s parents, they hadn't completely settled the matter with the intended." Gerald shrugged and then added, "They seemed surprised anyone knew."
Teagan nodded, "I think we may need to go out again today. I’d like to see the blood in the daylight- and I think Ser Cauthrien might as well." He fought down the impulse to look to her, instead asking, "Any news in town?"
"No, my lord," Gerald shook his head.
"Good. Stay close."
He gave the mayor another nod and went back to listen to Cauthrien’s discussions with the men, trying not to stare too intently at her neck, or follow the line of it down her body while she talked. When the last man had finished his writing sample, she thanked all of them in Common, and they all seemed relieved to be returned from Orlesian. She turned to look at Teagan.
"They're all good."
He let Gerald and Raud see them out, staying with Cauthrien and turning to speak with her quietly. "Gerald told me that the parents haven’t settled the betrothal, that’s why they didn’t think to mention it to anyone. There was nothing to tell, yet."
With a shrug he added, "He’ll be back, I told him we might want to go back out to the farm this afternoon. Might be good to take a look during the day."
Cauthrien nodded, slowly. "Then Edlyn must have told Èdouard about it, for him to have known."
"If she was his student and she was as upset as he made her sound, do you think she would have vented her frustrations? Would it be uncommon for a girl her age?"
She frowned, looking down at the letter and the man's writing sample. "Maybe not. I just wish we knew more about their relationship- no matter what it was. He's still our best lead. I doubt I'd have much luck talking to him now, but perhaps while we're in town, you could speak to him?"
"If he is all we have to go on, then by all means, I’ll question him again."
"None of the men brought in today could write half so well as whoever wrote this letter."
She did not say as Èdouard, but her insistent suspicions were clear as she continued. "We're left with only him, and there is something. His response- his explanation, it wasn't that of just a teacher. She never paid him, you know. Brought him things, on occasion, but nothing that would have earned his services, especially not when he only had a job as business at the butcher's allowed."
Teagan listened to her intently, nodding. He understood that they needed to talk to Èdouard again, no matter what either of them thought of the man.
"We’ll have Gerald ride back out with us to the farm then. On the way back we’ll stop at Èdouard’s and talk with him again."
He looked her over carefully, trying not to think about the letter to Anora on her desk. After a moment he found a smile and asked, "Is this a decent plan?"
She nodded, firmly. "Acceptable."
--
"Food first, though," she added with a wry smile.
She had been about to suggest that they look over the writing samples together, on the verge of asking for his opinion on Èdouard's, but then her stomach had reminded her with a painful, empty throb that she had skipped breakfast.
He waved a hand back towards the hall. "You go. Eat. I’ll find Gerald and update him. I’ll bring the letters too if you don’t want to carry them."
"I'll take care of them," she said, gathering up the dried samples and folding them carefully. She tucked them away, thinking to move them to her saddlebag when they rode out, or else leave them in her room.
She nodded one last time to Teagan and he gave her a faint smile before he turned and followed the other men out of the meeting hall. Cauthrien in turn moved towards the dining hall, running over once more the evidence - or lack of it - she had found in her questioning of the Rainesfere men.
She had followed the same procedure. She addressed them in Orlesian, spoke to them about day-to-day things, noting those who could understand her words but could no long respond. She had no fear that any were hiding their knowledge - that would have come out in the wrong pattern of errors.
Two of the men she had ruled out from their conversation alone.
The writing test had been the same - just a few sentences, and two more of the men proved illiterate. That left one man, and while he could write, he could not write well.
Taking a seat and pulling food towards her, she frowned.
None of them could have written the letter, and she had told Teagan as much. She had made it clear that she still suspected Èdouard in the most allowing way she knew how; she only hoped that she had made progress in Teagan's agreement to talk to the Orlesian again.
She pulled only the original letter and Èdouard's sample out, reading them over and over again as she ate. She tried to finish her meal quickly, but her attention kept getting pulled to little turns of phrase. All the stars in the sky. Turn away - something in that was off. The lyricism in the note was clumsy in comparison, even if all the spelling and grammar were correct and were matches to what Èdouard had written her.
She couldn't set it straight in her mind, though, and she sighed, remembering to get down another piece of bread, another gulp of water.
Behind her, Teagan cleared his throat and she jumped.
"So, good reading then?"
"What? Oh-" She flushed, sitting up straighter and gathering the papers together, the original letter on top. She still wasn't ready to show them to him again, not yet, and she didn't want questions.
He didn't ask any. Instead, he rounded the table and sat down where he had been earlier that morning. After picking at some bread, he gave her a smile.
"You should put those down for a minute, eat something substantial."
"I didn't mean to delay us," she said, and she began to eat in earnest. A part of her suggested she slow down, though, with Teagan sitting across from her and smiling. After all, she had longed for this moment earlier in the day. A few more bites and she set her fork down, her appetite no longer quite so ravenous.
He quirked a brow. "Finished then? Everything should be prepared for us to ride out as soon as you’re ready." After taking a last drink, he pushed away from the table and stood up.
"I can be ready now," she said, picking up Èdouard's sample and the note and tucking them away with the others. Her stomach grumbled that she should have eaten more, but she smiled at him and circled around the table to join him. They walked to the stables together.
--
When they arrived back at the farm, they didn’t need much help to find their way back to the spot where the blood had been- where they thought Edlyn had disappeared from. The ground was still stained but it was already fading into the grass and dirt and Teagan didn’t think it would be there much longer.
"It’s already disappearing," he said as they approached.
He bent down, as he and Cauthrien had the day before and looked closer at the ground. He frowned at it and tapped the soil with a finger thoughtfully. Something was off, aside from there being too little blood.
Looking up at Gerald, he asked, "Was no one in the house when she disappeared?" Then to both Cauthrien and Gerald, "Did no one hear her?"
Gerald shrugged, "Her mother was inside all day, she said. Didn’t hear a thing."
Teagan shook his head and stared at the ground. "You would think she would make some noise... that someone would have heard her."
"If she was taken from here alive, if she struggled, almost certainly," Cauthrien said, looking between the two men for a moment before she crouched down, hands running over the grass. She made three passes before pausing, a frown creasing her brow. She picked up something, holding it up to the light - a hair, short and straight, dark brown and perhaps three to four inches at the longest
"How did Edlyn wear her hair? And what color was it?"
Gerald looked at Cauthrien, then to her hand. "She had light hair. I believe her mother said she had it in a braid the last they saw her." He looked to Teagan, an worried expression on his face, and shook his head. "That’s not hers."
Teagan raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun and looked back to the treeline where Cauthrien had said the blood trail led. He sighed. There hadn't been enough blood, she had been next to the house, but if she had made a sound it wasn’t loud enough to get anyone’s attention, and it wasn't her hair in the grass.
"So," Teagan started, looking back at the ground and then to strand of hair Cauthrien held, though it was hard to make out in the light. "Who does that belong to, then?"
"Èdouard," she said, slowly, tensely, "has blonde hair to his chin. So it is not his." She plucked a few more of the strands from the grass. She stood, bringing them over to show Teagan.
She added, "... I don't think this is human."
Warily, he looked at the strand. "So, what does it belong to? What animal?" With a glance back to the ground he added, "That may fit with the matter of the blood- if it’s not human-"
With the letter and the blood, it looked obviously like something had taken place on that spot the night before. Now, they were looking at the hair of what- an animal? Perhaps the blood of the same - or had she been attacked? If so, why didn’t she scream out?
Teagan shook his head. "So, where do we go from here? Do you still want to talk to Èdouard again?"
"We should." She growled softly, pinching at the bridge of her nose. "I've been reading over that damn letter all morning, and there's something- off about it. I can't figure out what it is, though. But it's not like the writing sample he gave us.
"I'm still not comfortable with how he reacted to knowing about her betrothal, though. He may know something."
Tegan nodded and looked thoughtfully at Cauthrien. If the letter was wrong-
"Gerald, are her parents nearby? Ser Cauthrien and I will ride back to town to speak with Èdouard. See if Edlyn ever received other letters like the one we found here- if he wrote her once, maybe he wrote her before?"
"I'll see to it, my lord."
He tucked his braid behind his ear and added, to Cauthrien, "Maybe there will be another letter you can study after we speak with Èdouard.
She looked to Teagan. "I still think you should be the one to sit down with him." She paused before continuing, "Your Orlesian is good enough, yes?"
"You heard me last night, did you not? What do you think?" He gave her a cautious smile, aware that Gerald was still nearby.
"Could use some practice," she said, but it was surprisingly light and accompanied with an answering smile, and she shrugged. "But more than good enough for this."
He barely managed to restrain his smile to keep from teasing her in turn. Instead, he looked away from her and schooled his expression. Catching Gerald's eye, he said, "Bring anything you find to us, either at Èdouard’s or at my estate."
The mayor nodded and disappeared around the corner of the house in search of Edlyn’s parents. Teagan hoped that there might be something else for them, another clue that would get them closer to figuring out what happened to the girl.
"I haven’t had much need of it," he said, turning back to Cauthrien with an open smile now that Gerald had gone. It was an odd moment - playful, despite the circumstances - and it made Teagan eager to be away from the house.
"We should go," he said and gestured back towards their horses. "Unless there’s something else you want to look for?"
"There is. A moment?" She went back to where she had found the blood trail the night before and bent her head to it in brighter light. She made it further out this time before seem to lose it, turning to walk back. And then she hesitated and continued in the direction the trail had been going. It had been nearly a straight line, and led to the hedgerow.
He followed behind at a distance, watching. At twenty paces, she froze for a moment, then shook her head. She picked up her pace to a jog and called out for Teagan to follow.
As he approached the spot where Cauthrien had paused, he caught the first unmistakable note of rot on the air. The closer he got to her, the stronger the smell.
"What is that?" he asked when he first saw the shadowed bulk of something lying at Cauthrien's feet.
It wasn’t human, but it was dead and broken and it smelled awful. It wasn’t as bad as darkspawn, or a battlefield of dead soldiers, but it was still strong. As he took a few steps closer, the mass started to take on a shape in the shadows of the trees.
"... Is that a goat?"
Cauthrien pulled the animal's head up by one horn. "Goat, yes. Fresh, too. Not more than a day."
The animal, where it wasn't covered in blood, was a dark brown color. It had a rope tied around its neck, and when she probed the area with her fingers, she frowned. "Windpipe crushed, I think."
When he could take his eyes from it at last, he looked around the area. Besides the area where he and Cauthrien stood, there were a few indentations in the ground. He took a step back, then crouched to get a better look.
"Footprints?" he asked, glancing up to her.
She turned to look where he was looking, letting the animal's head fall back to the ground. She crouched down, uncaring of the mud or the rotting animal beside her. "... Yes, I think so." Cauthrien tilted her head, frowned. "... Two sets?"
He studied the ground near Cauthrien. "It does look like two sets. If she’s alive, was she here? Is she uninjured?" He shook his head, frowning. The more they found, the less it made sense. "Did someone bring her here- did she follow someone?"
After a moment, he stood and took another look around the area, avoiding the goat carcass and the footsteps surrounding it.
Cauthrien stayed where she was, watching him. "I don't know. Do you know how tall she was?" One of the sets of footprints appeared small - but she was tall and so both sets were smaller than her own. It was hard to tell. "One set of prints is larger than the other, but I'm not sure what that means. She could have been here. But- with who?"
She frowned, rising and looking down at the goat. "... Unless whoever did this was experienced with animals, killing a goat like this would take a lot of work. You'd need two people." Cauthrien sighed. "She might not even be injured - it's possible that none of that blood was hers. This goat," she said, tapped one of its hooves with her toe, "is bled out." Her brow furrowed. "Do you think-"
She hesitated.
"... Perhaps she didn't go with Èdouard unwillingly? Two sets of footsteps away from here..."
"It’s possible."
He was less certain now that Èdouard had not been involved. Cauthrien’s idea about the blood, made it at least seem plausible. But if Edlyn had gone willingly, why had they wanted to make it look like a violent death?
He sighed. "So that still means we go talk to Èdouard and see if there’s anything else that he knows." Teagan shrugged, uncertain of what else they could do. He started back for the treeline, sparing a glance for Cauthrien as he passed her.
Cauthrien followed him out, wiping her hands on her thighs. "If Edlyn is still alive- and more importantly, since it appears none of the blood was hers to begin with, unharmed-" She frowned. "... We need to tell the family. If not today, then soon."
He nodded but continued towards his horse. "We’ll talk to Èdouard. And wait for word from Gerald about the possibility there were other letters."
As he stopped, ready to mount his horse, he looked back to Cauthrien. "But, you’re right. If we don’t know anything else more than that- they should know that she might be out there somewhere. I’m just not sure that’s much better, if we can’t find her."
"At least she wasn't killed right outside of their home, with nobody there to hear it. They should know that." Cauthrien smiled tightly, then swung up onto Calenhad's back. "After the day's investigations, we'll tell them."
"You’re right, I suppose. It’s better to know." He shook his head and then mounted his horse.
"Though I probably shouldn't be there," she added after a pause, one hand resting on the horn of her saddle.
"I think you should be," he countered easily. "It’s good for people to see you helping."
"If you think so," she said as she swung up into her saddle.
"I do."
It was not only for slightly selfish reasons that he wanted to include her. He had already told her that people were moving on, learning to live after the Blight. It was good to see someone like Cauthrien also moving on - doing what she could - even if that meant just helping a family find their daughter and not somehow setting right, all the damage her actions or inactions had caused.
It might not make up for everything, but it was a start.
He wanted to say more about it, about her help, and he even opened his mouth again to do so. But as the thoughts came to him he dismissed them. He worried how they might sound to her, especially coming from him and especially in the wake of the night before.
So instead, he shrugged and said, "Let’s go."
She nodded, nudging Calenhad's flanks to get him moving. The horse whickered as she pulled him away from the discarded apple core he'd found, but then moved into an easy trot as they headed north, towards town.
Cauthrien spoke again once Edlyn's farm was firm behind them. "We should also talk to the butcher, Oswin. See if he noticed anything odd about Edlyn the last time she came by. I also want to know how often and why she was there- her family should have been raising and slaughtering at least some of their own meat at this time of the year. She may have been by more often because of Èdouard."
He considered. She was right, of course; if Edlyn spent any time at the butcher’s then Oswin should know her and her family.
"It's a good idea. Do you want to go there, to try and talk to Oswin while I go to talk with Èdouard again? If so, we might learn more, more quickly?"
"And it will make Èdouard more likely to cooperate if I'm absent," she said, smiling grimly. "Is it on the main square of town? We can meet up afterwards back at Edlyn's family's farm."
"They’re not so far from each other- Èdouard’s house is close to Oswin’s shop. We can meet back at the farm, or we can meet up outside depending on how we finish."
Cauthrien nodded. He didn’t press the issue further, knowing that they would figure it out once they arrived. He smiled at her and pressed forward; she kept close behind him as they entered the town proper. She rode close enough to Teagan to catch his eye and give him a small, lighter smile, one of camaraderie and not nervousness, not focus on the job
"I'll look for you when I'm done," she said and broke away from him.
That smile she gave him, it was- friendly. It was nice. He watched her ride on before nudging his horse down towards Èdouard’s house. There were still guards out front and looked much the same as it had the night before. He knocked out of courtesy but proceeded inside to talk to Èdouard without giving the Orlesian much time to respond.
After seeing Teagan in through the front door, Èdouard sat back at the small table set up by the hearth. Teagan thought the older man looked defeated, hands folded in front of him on the table. It also looked like he might not have slept much the night before. As much as Teagan wanted to think this man was innocent, he couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was real, how much was contrived, or if the late night had been from hiding something from him or his guards.
Teagan sat across from Èdouard and tried to smile, tried to appear pleasant. "Monsieur Èdouard," he began, "I need to ask you a few more questions, please." There was a hint of tension to his voice, and he tried to focus on his Orlesian, remembering Cauthrien’s teasing.
"Certainly, Bann Teagan," he said. "Has there been no news about Edlyn?" Èdouard's brows furrowed in worry.
Teagan shook his head, braid coming loose from behind his ear. He tucked it away and bowed his head, building up confidence for his next question. "No. I came hoping you could better explain to me about your relationship with her."
Èdouard frowned and then waved a hand angrily at Teagan. "I explained to that... woman yesterday."
"I know," Teagan said. He watched Èdouard for a moment. There was something to this man’s outrage. He remembered the question that Cauthrien had asked just as Teagan had arrived back at the chantry the night before. He wasn’t sure that it was an necessary question, but he agreed that there was something else worth investigating here.
"But I need to know why she would tell you about her betrothal when it wasn’t finalized yet. Or why she was so intent to learn Orleasian- to move to Orlais? Or let’s start with why you wouldn’t take payment for her lessons."
Èdouard shrugged. "I already said- I met her after I moved here. She wanted to learn Orlesian and I helped her." He was angrier now, dark eyes flashing as he looked at Teagan. "I was also new here when I met her the first time- when she asked about it. It’s just a language, it felt wrong to take her money."
With a sigh, Teagan rose to his feet. He knew how strongly Cauthrien believed there was something more here- that something about Èdouard seemed wrong. But Teagan didn’t see it. He saw a man that had come back to his land to make a new, different life for himself and who had tried to do something decent for a neighbor, perhaps as a way to atone for something he had never done.
Still, they needed anything he knew. He stayed close to the table, one hand settled on the wood. "I’m sorry. What about her betrothal? Why would she tell you?"
"Because she had just learned of it the day before- because she didn’t want it- she wanted to tell someone?" Èdouard gestured absently and shook his head again. Then, he smiled a bit sadly and added, "Her head was always in the clouds. Dreaming. The betrothal, it- it was unexpected- she was very sad about it."
Teagan listened, and to him it sounded as though Édouard had thought it all very innocent. Edlyn was innocent to him. Otherwise, if he was lying, then he was very, very good at it. He reminded himself to check with the guards outside again before he left, just to be sure they hadn’t seen anything strange the night before. It was all he and Cauthrien had right now.
He switched back to Common as he inclined his head and said, "Thank you Èdouard. I’m sorry we’ve had to do this again."
Èdouard also stood and after a moment, he nodded. "I think I understand. I do hope the little flower is alright."
Teagan had started to step away from the table, but with that, he turned back to Èdouard, fixing him with a stern glance, a break from his pleasant, noble appearance. "And what is that? Little flower?"
The other man flinched and then gave him a curious glance, brow arched in question. "Little flower? It- It’s a nickname I used for her- she was so interested in learning and it was the first thing I gave her to practice."
Teagan’s shoulders relaxed again and he leaned away, turning back towards the door. It made sense, in a way- though it seemed more... grandfatherly, something Èdouard wasn’t. It was the one thing that, with Edlyn’s note, that still seemed too strange- still gave them reason to suspect him.
And yet even that, Teagan couldn't doubt as much as he had.
Finally, he nodded, "Thank you for your time Èdouard."
Outside, he confirmed with both guards that Èdouard had not left the house over night, or through the morning. Neither of them reported anything out of the ordinary, nor had Èdouard attempted to leave, or do anything other than offer the both of them breakfast. Too kind for a man locked in his home. And Teagan was starting to really believe that was just the sort of man Èdouard was, a kindly Orlesian, the last thing most Fereldens would expect of him.
--
After Calenhad was tied to a hitching post, Cauthrien hesitated outside the the butcher shop. Interrogating an Orlesian man was one thing. Questioning a working Rainsfere native? Quite another.
For one thing, he would be predisposed to hate her from the beginning.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and went in.
She was met by the odor and noise of several chickens and ducks, along with the smell of smoked, cured, and raw meat. She hadn't had the opportunity to be in a butcher's store in many years, and for a moment, it was overwhelming. There were two people in the room besides herself and a man who from his apron appeared to be the butcher himself. They were engaged in haggling over the haunch of a cow. Cauthrien stood back and let it wash over her, observing who she thought must be Oswin.
He was older than Èdouard, a tall man with muscular arms and a round belly, a moustache that drooped off of his face, and very little remaining hair on his head. He had a soft voice and small, sharp eyes. He said little, but as far as she could tell, the transaction went in his favor.
And when they were left alone, he barely spared her a glance before walking behind his work table and counter, where a half of what looked like a lamb lay in the middle of being disassembled into various cuts.
"Yes?"
"Are you Oswin?" she asked, stepping more fully into the room and taking a closer look at some sausages that hung from one of the hooks in the rafters.
She almost didn't catch his nod.
"I'm here on behalf of Bann Teagan, and the family of a girl, Edlyn."
"She dead?"
"Missing," she clarified after a brief pause. "I'm looking into her disappearance."
"I heard," he said, lifting a thin-bladed boning knife and setting to work defleshing the tips of a cut of rib, "that you think Èdouard's involved? Whole town's talking about it today, along with how our bann is working with the woman who would have killed us all."
He didn't look up at her, and so he didn't see her flinch. "Both of those things are true," she grudgingly admitted, "though I am here now to assist."
He grunted, continuing to work.
"I only have a few questions," Cauthrien continued, "and I would be grateful if you could answer them."
"I'm working."
"I can see that, yes," she said, one hand clenching into a fist at her side. "As am I. Perhaps we can both work at the same time."
"And if I don't feel like talking to you?" He finally glanced up. "Going to accuse me of treason against Ferelden?"
This time he did see her flinch- and look away, jaw clenching. "No. I will just thank you for your time, leave, and ask Bann Teagan if he would be able to sit with you instead."
"He listen to you a lot?"
"Only when he likes what I have to say."
That earned her a laugh, and it surprised her into looking back to him. "Smart man, our bann. Always has been." Oswin grinned at her for a brief moment, then shook her head and set down his knife, leaning forward, his bared elbows gaining a fresh stain of red where he rested them against the wood of the table. "Ask away, then. I'll kick you out if I don't like what you have to say, I guess."
Cauthrien nodded, and came closer to the table.
"Let's start with the girl, Edlyn. How long has she been coming here?"
Oswin shrugged. "A few years. Since she was old enough to, at least."
"Her family owns livestock, though - at least chickens and a few pigs, from what I saw."
"Aye, but not cattle. And sometimes they're too busy to take care of spring slaughterings, so Edlyn would bring the animals to town for me to do the work for them." He shrugged. "Common enough, with the small farms here."
Cauthrien nodded. "How often would she come in, then? Once a year?"
"A few times. At first it was just once or twice a year, but she was coming more often, last little bit. Once a month - sometimes more. Said her mother had taken a liking to some of the sausages I make." He looked momentarily pleased and proud of that, and Cauthrien considered purchasing some for Teagan's kitchens in return.
"When did she meet Èdouard? When you hired him?"
"A few months after that."
"Is that when she first started coming more often?"
Oswin frowned, then shrugged. "Maybe. Hard to tell. But yeah, I guess it was around the same time. They interacted a little."
Cauthrien pursed her lips, coming to lean on the other side of the table. "What sorts of jobs did you have Èdouard doing? Did he help with slaughtering the animals?" Her mind went to the goat in the hedgerow.
"No, he didn't always have the stomach for it. I usually take them out in the yard out back for that - Èdouard would stay in here. I taught him how to make sausages and brines and how to take apart a chicken. That's about it."
Cauthrien nodded. He wouldn't have been able to handle the goat on his own, then. He would have needed a second person.
"Did you know he was teaching Edlyn, Orlesian? When he wasn't working for you?"
Oswin shrugged again. "No idea when he started, but the last few times she came by, she would use it to say hello to him. So yeah, I knew."
"And that he wasn't charging her?"
"He's not the sort to." Oswin wiped a hand on his apron, then ran a hand over his balding head. "So it doesn't surprise me."
Cauthrien drummed her fingers on the wood, her question from the night before rising quickly to the forefront of her mind again. "To the best of your knowledge, were they- involved?"
That earned another laugh, but it was dark and more than a little insulted. "None of my business. But no, I don't think so. She was- is- a naive sort of girl, head in the clouds. And Èdouard's got eyes for more mature women, no matter how much trouble that gets him into. Besides, my boy, Owen- he would've said something."
"He would have?"
"Was sweet on Edlyn for a while, back when she first started coming around. I warned him off of her fast, though. Too young. And when he's older, he'll need the sort of woman who doesn't mind getting her hands dirty. Edlyn shirks - don't need her sort in the shop here as anything but a customer."
Cauthrien looked around, frowning. "Is Owen here?"
"No. He's off on a trip to the next town over, picking up an order of salt from me, come all the way from the Waking Sea."
"When did he leave?"
Oswin leaned back and picked up his knife again, going back to work. Cauthrien took the hint and straightened, stepping back.
"Yesterday. He went to one of the other farms, over west, to pick up one of their wethers they wanted me to take care of. Their fields just flooded - they've been too busy to bring it in to town themselves.
"Of course, the fool boy let the thing get loose," he sighed. "But it'll turn up sooner or later - will probably find its way right back home. Wethers'll do that, sometimes, like a good dog. Anyway, Owen stopped in, gave the bad news, and I sent him on over to Hertwig."
Cauthrien frowned, crossing her arms over her chest, fingers resuming their tattoo on her upper arm. She wanted to talk to the boy- especially if he had once had a crush on Edlyn. It was always possible, after all, that he had just gotten very good at hiding that crush from his father.
But it still didn't fit, not quite, not even as Èdouard looked less likely.
She was just about to ask if the boy could write when Oswin interrupted her. "No reason to talk about Owen, though- like I said, he's been doing work for me the last few days." He fixed her with an unwavering, challenging gaze, and Cauthrien backed down.
"Of course," she said, despite her lingering uncertainty. "Edlyn- when she started coming more often, was it on days Èdouard was working?"
"No." His gaze turned to a glare. "Èdouard," he said, voice turning caustic, "is a good man, especially for an Orlesian. A bit odd, and reclusive, but a good man."
"We found a letter-"
"Not interested. Èdouard is a good man. End of discussion. He didn't go trying to look up Edlyn's skirts, not recently, not when they first met." He shook his head, lifted his blade to point it to the door. "And as I'm not liking what you're implying - trying to keep on accusing one of my neighbors - I think it's time for you to go."
"But if he did-"
"If he did, the Maker will reveal him, not you."
Cauthrien opened her mouth to protest, to push on about the letter, but instead retreated. She still had questions, so many of them, about Èdouard and about Edlyn and about Owen, but she closed her mouth tight and reached for the door instead.
The only words she let out were, "I'm sorry to have taken your time, Oswin." And then she stepped out onto the street, taking a shuddering breath.
In the war, she would have arrested the man for refusing to cooperate, may have even had him tortured. But things done in war were done in war only, and were done still with a sense of reluctance, a distant knowledge that those actions were not ones carried out happily. To think of them now-
No.
She looked around for Teagan, or at least his horse, and when she saw him just across the way, she smiled tightly and turned back to Calenhad.