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Agents of Change: Fate or Chance

Of heroes forged and legends born - a retelling of the events that occurred in the year of 9:30 Dragon, when the names Hawke, Amell, Cousland and Trevelyan, began sending ripples across Thedas.

_Eisen_ · Video Games
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41 Chs

Mutatio Inpello

The evening was bound to be a long one, as usual when the castle had visitors. After sending the twins to find Fergus, they had run into Ser Gilmore again, who came bearing a message from their mother; apparently Alfonse was managing to disrupt the kitchen staff again. It seemed that the Mabari had a knack for getting into Nan's hair. The small group detoured from their objective of finding Fergus to quickly deal with the matter.

"I'm glad it's you who I needed to approach about Alfonse, Erik," Gilmore was saying as they wandered through the castle's courtyards and corridors. "Your sister would probably only have gone to watch the chaos unfold while giggling gleefully."

"Heeey! Ow!" She had punched him on the arm, forgetting that he still had his full armour on. "Why are you still wearing that monstrosity?!" she complained.

Erik and the knight merely chuckled, the former ruffling her hair. "There, there, Sis; not all of us are comfortable with running around in only a nug's hide worth of leather, stabbing things."

She stuck out her tongue at them and, crossing her arms, stalked past. "Fine! You go and play with your doggy. I'll go see if I can help with the squires' tutelage again."

"'Help' she says, as if she's intending to do anything but distract their teacher from what he's actually supposed to be doing," Erik said as she walked past him again in the direction they had come, remembering that the library was in that direction.

"No spilling on my evil plots!" she called over her shoulder before disappearing around a corner.

As the two men neared the kitchen, they could hear the ruckus Alfonse was causing. Over the barking one could just barely make out Nan's shrill yelling.

They marched into the kitchen to be greeted by a short elderly woman who wore her hair in a tight bun; she stuck a finger in Erik's face as soon as she noticed them. "That bloody Mabari of yours is at it again! Get him out of my larder!"

"As you say Nan, just let me get past in one piece and I'll set to doing just that."

Nan stepped aside with a 'Hmph' and watched as the two men walked over to the larder's door, entering it. The scene was a curious one; the Cousland's Mabari was standing in the corner of the room nearest the door, barking at the rest of the room as if the ingredients and items of food stored there were an audience.

The room itself was relatively small, only holding enough for the day's meals since it was refilled every morning from the castle's actual stores; it was also where the finer and more expensive menu items were kept.

"Hey boy, what are you doing here?" Erik asked - interrupting the barking performance.

The Mabari turned around enthusiastically and barked back.

"What is it boy, are you trying to tell me something?" The Cousland twin said as he scratched the massive hound's ears.

Alfonse barked again, as if in affirmation, and hopped excitedly. He then turned back to the room and his demeanour seemed to change entirely; he growled at one of the larger stacks of crates, getting onto his hackles.

Erik immediately picked up it. "Gilmore, draw your blade. Something's not right here."

The flame-haired knight nodded silently; he knew better than to question when Erik used that tone. He pulled his hunting dagger from its sheath at his boot. Erik unsheathed the sword at his hip, it not being too long to wield in the somewhat confined space of the larder.

As soon as the blades were bared, Alfonse lunged at the stack. To the shock of the two men there, a massive rat jumped from the shadows behind it, making an almost feline hissing sound. The creature was a monstrous example of its species – larger than a badger.

The creature backed into a corner, small evil eyes leering at the dog and the two humans. It made the hissing sound again and without warning smaller – but still large – rats sprang from other hiding spots.

"Oh how cliché…." Erik muttered as the swarm of rats ran at them.

They spent the next minute knee-deep in rats, the rodents unable to do anything to the two warriors in their armour and the Mabari being too quick for them despite its bulk. Alfonse struck at the edges of the swarm, picking off rats one by one as opportunities presented themselves. Erik and Ser Gilmore waded into the midst of them, stomping down with heavy armoured boots. Gilmore held his knife at the ready but only used it to kill the rats that he grabbed when they tried to climb his legs. Erik swung his sword around, cutting the rats down in twos and threes. When rats tried to climb up him he simply pulled them off with his free hand and flung them at his dog to finish off or to the floor again where he could crush them.

They eventually managed to kill most of the vermin and the remaining ones scattered back into the shadows as Ser Gilmore plunged his dagger into the skull of the first and largest of them. It died with a pitiful squeak, far different from the aggressive hissing it had been doing until that point.

"Giant rats," he said, cleaning his blade on a scrap of cloth he had found in a corner. "Sounds like the beginning of every bad adventure tale my granpa used to tell."

After the knight had cleaned his blade he tossed the cloth to Erik who also used it to clean his weapon. "Indeed, but those were no ordinary rats. That one there could eat my sister's cat!" the Cousland said, pointing at the giant specimen Gilmore had killed.

"That cat would probably have confused it into suicide before it managed to be eaten," the knight said grinning. When Alfonse had been imprinted on Erik, their parents had gotten Elisa a kitten to assuage any feelings of jealousy. Strangely enough the cat was a stark contrast of intelligence when compared to the dog – something that would normally not be attributed to its species. Those who got to know the feline were all convinced that it had been dropped on its head before being gifted to the other twin, which seemed only to endear the cat to her. It spent most of its time meowing at windows and walking into things.

But then Ser Gilmore's face turned grave. "Jests aside, I have seen these before; they are native to the Korcari Wilds. For them to come this far north, there must truly be something to this talk of a Blight; I doubt animals would come this far north were it only a raid."

Erik had finished cleaning his sword and returned it to its sheath and turned to the larder's doorway, patting his leg, indicating that Alfonse follow. "Then I suppose we should make all haste to inform Fergus, both of this and the errand father sent me and Elisa on… I doubt she's completed it."

The two men made their way to the residential wing of the castle. One of the servants had nearly fainted upon seeing the carnage in the larder, but Nan's iron fist had ensured that it would be cleaned up – after all, they had guests to feed this evening. In the foyer to the wing they ran into Elisa again, who had a slightly worried expression on her face.

"Sister, something troubling you?" Erik asked as soon as she drew nearer.

"Yes, they are asking me to help more with the squire's tuition!" she exclaimed, mortified.

Ser Gilmore had to laugh at this; Erik merely grinned wryly, saying: "And here we were, ending the tyrannical reign of the Rat King of Highever, praying that our beloved sister would not be too disruptive while we were engaged."

"Rats? Eurgh…I should really get Alfonse to teach Brambles what other purpose claws and teeth can have aside from cleaning oneself. At least that explains the smell," Elisa said, rumpling her nose.

"Well, now that my task is complete I should probably prepare to meet this Warden everyone is speaking about," Ser Gilmore said. "Don't get lost on the way to finding your brother."

Splitting up, the twins headed off into the wing to find Fergus together, passing by the Teyrna who was busy speaking to more visitors who had come. Tyrna Eleanor had decided she would visit among the lesser nobles for the duration of the fighting so that the twins would not feel she were undermining them, nor would rely on her for everything. Even now things had been planned to allow for the best growth, even for those not heading to battle. Eleanor Cousland would host the first of these families in Castle Highever that evening and then set off to their lands in a day's time.

The pair found Fergus Cousland in his quarters, where he was finishing up his packing and bidding his wife and son goodbye. "And here are my little brother and sister to see me off. Now dry your eyes, Love, and wish me well," the Cousland heir said as the twins entered his chambers. Oriana, his wife, and Oren, his son, were also in the room, the prior trying vainly to hide teary eyes. The latter jumped up excitedly from where he had been sitting at the bed's foot upon seeing who the new arrivals were.

"Uncle Erik! Aunt Lisa! My dad is gonna fight barksawn!"

"Aha!" Elisa cried as she caught up the youngster, "'Barksawn' you say?" After setting him down again she crouched before him, looking him into the eyes with a serious expression. "And pray tell, what are these creatures? Sawn up barks? That would explain perfectly why Alfonse hasn't been sounding the same lately."

"No, Aunt Lisa!" Oren launched into an explanation of what he thought was happening. The three others assembled in the room just looked on, bemused. Finally Erik turned to his elder brother. "Father wanted us to tell you to prepare to leave with the troops today. Arl Howe's forces are running late and will only arrive on the morrow – he will travel with those."

Erik looked to the antics of his twin and nephew. "Elisa would of course, prefer to go to war with you and I would be lying if I said I were not concerned myself." He then gave his brother a sombre look. "Ser Gilmore and I killed Korcari Rats in the larder; that they would be driven this far north bodes ill."

Fergus put an arm around Erik's shoulder and patted him heartily on the chest. "Trust me, I would feel that much safer having either or both of you at my side. But I hear the fighting is going well and by the time I arrive all that may be left are darkspawn corpses."

"Please still be careful Dear," Oriana said, her voice carrying a trace of an Orlesian accent. "I could not bear to lose you." Oriana was the daughter of a wealthy Orlesian merchant; she and Fergus had gotten to know one another when he had stopped by Castle Highever on the way home from business in Denerim.

She was a beautiful woman, with fair skin and auburn hair. As all Orlesians, she had a fondness for facial paint and make-up, but her stay in Ferelden had resulted in her only using it sparingly to accentuate what was already a lovely face. She was only slightly shorter than Elisa, but unlike her sister-in-law, she preferred courtly vestments to those of battle.

It was rare to see relationships such as hers and Fergus' blossom, considering the animosity between the two countries, especially among the nobility. But while some believed the eldest Cousland to have turned his back on his nation, others thought that it was a sign of better relations in the future. The rulers of Highever never paid this talk any heed though. To them they were family and that was all that mattered.

"Daddy, are you gonna bring me a soword?" Oren asked in a begging tone, seemingly having grown tired of whatever it was he and Elisa had ended up talking about.

"That's sword, Oren." Fergus said chuckling, "and I'll bring you the biggest, sharpest sword I find."

"Absolutely not!" Oriana said emphatically, "You can get him a sword when he comes of age. I'll not have our son running around with a monstrous blade at such a tender age."

The future Teyrn simply laughed good naturedly at his wife's objections, "He'll need to learn how to use one eventually, but I'll let you hold onto the one I get until you deem him old enough." He turned to address the twins again. "I hear Ser Gilmore is a potential recruit for the Grey Wardens, although if I were to have a say I'd think you would be the far better candidates."

"Father won't hear of it," Elisa said sullenly.

Fergus chuckled again – he was a very happy person – "Then I shall simply have to kill enough darkspawn for the both of us."

That was when the door opened and their parents walked in. "So, we weren't too late to miss wishing you farewell after all," Bryce Cousland said upon entering.

"I'm still not sure how I feel about both of you going to fight those…monsters. Maker, protect us," Eleanor prayed.

Fergus grinned broadly, "And send us some ale and wenches while you're at it!" seemingly not concerned what his mother and wife would think of it.

Oren looked up at his father curiously, "What's a wench? Is that what you pull to get the bucket out of a well?"

The Teyrn looked down sternly at his only grandchild. "A wench is a woman who pours ale in a tavern, Oren; or, uh… a woman who drinks a lot of ale."

The Teyrna sighed heavily. "Men, at least the twins are more sensible."

Elisa looked at her mother with a shocked expression, "I happen to be very good at wenching."

"Sister," Erik deadpanned, "you've not touched drink since Bann Troy's tourney."

"Spoilsport."

Fergus looked at the twins, "You two look after Mother while we're away."

Elisa made dismissing gestures. "Pff, mother can scold any foe into submission. We have the safest teyrner."

"Watch it, young lady," Eleanor responded in with a warning tone.

"See what I mean?!"

"Be that as it may," Fergus said, "I should probably head off - so many darkspawn to kill, so little time to do it in."

The small family meeting drew to an end then, with Fergus leaving. The twins finalised any plans that needed to be gone through with their father for the running of the castle before he left in the morning. Then they too went on their way. The evening meal was a simple one, considering that the castle had so many visitors. But the air was different from what it was normally like; it held portends of war.

Everyone eventually headed off to bed, some to make last minute preparations for departing, but it was not long until the castle fell asleep, and while there was a particular tenseness to the mood, it was still peaceful and likely the last peace the castle would have for a very long time.