Marquis Raeven’s political ability was second to none among the Six Great Nobles, so one would expect that the office where he applies his abilities would be an impressive one. Yet, this is not the case. Many would be surprised if they know the exact number of decisions which affected the future of the Ferelden that had been drafted in such a humble, cramped place.

The room’s interior is filled with bookshelves, and the books and labelled scrolls are neatly arranged in a way that hinted at their owner’s personality. However, it is not because of these things that the room is so small, although they are part of the reason for it.

The greatest reason could not be seen by the naked eye.

Raeven’s manor home was built of bricks coated in stucco. This is customary when it comes to the construction of a noble home, and Raeven’s office is no exception.

However, the interior of those walls are coated with copper sheets that envelopes the entire room. This was done to protect him from spies.

The windowless room felt a little claustrophobic, but from a cost-effectiveness point of view, it was practical and had to be endured.

Upon returning from Denerim Palace, Raeven had makes a beeline for this office. He crosses to the other side of his sturdy working desk before flopping down onto his chair, in a way that suggests that he had completely run out of energy.

Then, he covers his face with his thin hands. Anyone who see him would not think of a great noble who commands unrivalled power and privilege in the Ferelden, only a middle-aged man who has been worn down by the weight of stress and responsibility.

He brings up the limp strands of his blonde hair in his fingers, combing them back up and leaning back in his seat as his face twisted.

Perhaps it is because he is relaxed now, but the stress accumulated during the court session turns to anger, which fills his heart. Within moments, it has surpassed his ability to contain and explodes into the air with a mighty shout.

“Idiots, each and every one of them!”

Nobody understands what is going on. No, if someone has understood and is taking advantage of the situation, they would be masterful schemers indeed.

Right now, the Ferelden is in great peril.

The Federation’s frequent sabre-rattling lead to the loss of male farmers that  leads to under production, and causes severe problems such as food shortages, and then there are other issues that are starting to precipitate. The only reason why no cracks in Ferelden has appeared so far is because the naive nobles honestly believe “we just need to hold on a bit longer until the other faction collapses first”.

The Arkland employs professional warriors known as knights, but Ferelden severely lacks such soldiers among their ranks. To resist the frequent Federation invasions, they conscripted peasants in their levies. The result of that was farming villages everywhere running short of manpower for a period of time.

Federation has a firm grasp of the Ferelden’s practice of conscription, and thus they always declare war during the harvest season.

During the busiest season of a farming village, the impact of their adult males ― the most important source of labor ― going missing for over one month could not be overstated. Of course, the idea of simply not conscripting as many people had come to mind, but in the face of the Federation’s military, who were far better trained and armed, Ferelden could not muster any resistance without the weight of numbers on their side.

There had been one occasion when a lack of conscripts had resulted in tremendous casualties for the Ferelden. Fortunately, the counterattack led by David Lassic had succeeded, killing important commanders  and putting an end to the war, since both sides had won and lost. However, the truth was that the Ferelden had been weakened, and in light of the many citizens lost, Ferelden had come out on the losing side of the equation.

And even during these circumstances…

“That traitorous filth! This foolish power struggle! Those idiots, fighting over nothing!”

Marquis Brumerush, one of the Six Great Nobles, has betrayed the Ferelden by selling its information to the neighboring countries. The nobles had split into two factions and are struggling for dominance. Within each faction, they are further divided by who follow which great noble. The great nobles, on the other hand, are eying for more wealth and influence like dogs feuding over a bone.

Marquis Raeven pounds on his desk repeatedly, venting his anger.

“The King’s no better either! He’s no fool and he’s not drunk on power, but he isn’t thinking at all!

 Raeven’s frustration grows as his breathing calms.

He has to think of how to keep Ferelden going, even in the face of the dangers ahead.

“To begin with, this war with the Arkland is dangerous, especially if that monster, David Lassic leads them. I should start by assuming he can cause 1’000 casualties by himself before I begin strategic planning."

Raeven speaks the words on his mind out loud while he organizes his thoughts. Honestly, he wants to share this matter with someone and discuss it with them.

Queen Anora can understand his level of thinking, thus is his only ally. She understands the danger which the Ferelden faces, and he considered her a comrade in arms when it comes to planning for the future.

If only she could ascend to the throne, it would take a weight off his right shoulder. 

"No. I can't think like that. I would be a traitor..." He shakes his head in an attempt to remove that treacherous thought from his mind.

But installing Queen as the ruler, overthrowing King is not the worst idea he ever come out with. 

Sometimes, the excessive worrying had even made him contemplate destroying the Ferelden with his own hands, although that particular thought had only come up once or twice. 

It is like he is trying to build a sandcastle, surrounded by naughty kids trying to kick it down. At times, he feels like destroying the sandcastle himself, just to deny them the satisfaction. Still, he has a reason for ignoring those destructive impulses and carrying on like he does. 

Raeven sighs heavily as he gives voice to his thoughts and future plans.

Even he has days when he wanted to just put everything down and walk away.

***

Marquis Eamon Guerrin is sitting in his study room in Redcliffe castle. He is reading a report from his spy while massaging his long beard. 

Upon that meeting in Denerim, he had spent several days in sending our spies to Arkland as well forcing the peasants to become temporary soldiers for war against Arkland. 

Eamon may not be blessed with talent and intellect like Marquis Raeven, but he has a lot of first hand experience in war. Another battle hardened among Great noble is Marquis Leonas Bryland from South Reach. In one on one combat, Leonas easily defeated Eamon but Eamon is more like versatile commander who could fight and plan, in other words, he is in the middle of Raeven and Leonas. 

Someone who is wise and experienced as Eamon Guerrin could distinguish bad guys from good guys. 

Marquis Bann of Amaranthine is in the same faction as Eamon as they are critical towards King. Although Eamon cannot understand Bann's way of thinking, he knows Bann is up to no good in Amaranthine. 

Marquis Eamon Guerrin of Redcliffe, Bann of Amaranthine, Leonas Bryland of South Reach, and Raeven of Edgehall, are in a faction that is critical towards King Cailan Theirin. Having said that, they have no intention to overthrow the King although Eamon doesn't know what is in the mind of Bann. 

Only Raeven who openly pushes for Queen Anora to become de facto ruler behind the King but five great nobles reject that notion because Anora was not from royal or noble birth. 

There are only two great nobles who support the King, namely Marquis Brumerush of West Hills and Margrave Lubreo Lambert of Abram. 

Everyone suspects Brumerush is actively selling information about Ferelden to neighboring countries but they cannot do anything about it. 

The youngest, Lubreo Lambert is well-known womaniser. The scariest part about him is he is very cunning schemer and a hidden tyrant. 

There are several men who were in next in the line of succession in Lambert family. He was suspected to assassinate his cousins and uncles until he becomes the Margrave at young age.

Now, Duke David Lassic of Arkland has openly dismissed his autonomic land status, and is threatening Ferelden so he becomes sovereign ruler of his own land. 

Eamon sighs heavily.

There is a knocking on the door. The sound seems to come from a lower position than usual.

After tidying up his long beard and brushes this bald head, he turns to the metal door and speaks so the person on the other side could hear. Though his voice is loud, it contains a surprising gentleness that indicates that he is not angry.

“Come in.”

The speed with which the heavy door opens indicates how much the other party had been looking forward to it.

On the other side of the door is a boy.

The boy’s innocent, adorable face is colored with a slight blush on the pale skin of his cheeks. He looked to be around five years old, and he padded across the floor, stopping at Eamon’s knee.

“Now now, you know you shouldn’t be running indoors, it’s hardly refined.”

A female voice follows the boy over to Eamon.

She is a woman with a pretty face, with light brown hair that is kept in a bun, and is shadowed by gloominess. She does not seem like a happy woman. Her clothes are of exquisite make, but their colours are muted.

The woman bows to Eamon, and then she smiles.

With a hint of embarrassment, Eamon returns the smile.

When had his wife started smiling?

For those who don't know, they might feel weird as Eamon Guerrin is around sixties while his wife, Isolde is obviously in her middle twenties. 

The child, Connor is actually Eamon's son from his first wife. He has another two sons who are in their twenties.

Two years ago, his first wife passed away and he remarried a daughter of a  Baron under his faction. 

As this is actually forced marriage by that Baron to earn points with Eamon, Isolde plays her role as wife reluctantly.

What’s the matter? Do you want to tell Papa something?”

Eamon ignored his wife’s perturbed expression and asked again.

“Ehehehe, well..”

He looks like he wants to share a secret of some sort, judging from the way he covers his mouth with his little hands. As he sees that movement, Eamon’s heart melts, the corners of his eyes droops, and he makes a face one would never expect of the man who has been referred to as the most influential noble.

“That ― well, it’s Papa’s favorite fish~”

“Really now! Papa is so happy to hear that!”

Eamon could not help kissing his son’s pink cheeks over and over. It tickles, and so the boy laughes innocently.

“All right, then let’s go have dinner!”

“Ahem! Wait, actually, I’m done with work.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I really am done with work.”

“…Is that so? Are you just planning to put it off until tomorrow?”

“…”

Even if his wife, Isolde is rolling her eyes at him, Raeven would not let his son down from his knee. He clutches the boy tightly, and sighs as he feels the heat from his son’s hot body flow into him.

Eamon does not stop kissing his son as he continues his baby talk. This is without doubt the happiest moment of his life.

He could forget the stress of his daily life and achieves a small measure of peace.

"Even if I have to sacrifice myself, I will protect all of this." He vows in his heart.