The Stolen Throne

The three of them slowly became closer over the two years. They fought together in battle, and Arl Rendorn included Loghain in planning discussions more and more. Indeed, the Arl increasingly praised Loghain’s abilities and once suggested that if Loghain’s father had been the one to train Loghain, it was a tragedy he had ever left the service of the throne. Things might have been different, the Arl said, and he would have liked to have met the man.

Loghain accepted the compliment with his usual stoic silence, his thoughts unknown to anyone but himself.

With the long weeks spent camped, Loghain devoted a great deal of time training Maric on the finer points of swordsmanship and archery. He claimed Maric was a poor student, but the truth was their training sessions became an excuse to spend time in each other’s company. Maric found Loghain endlessly fascinating, repeatedly trying to pry a story out of the tight-lipped man regarding his days as an outlaw, asking and insisting until he relented out of pure exasperation. Maric’s endless supply of charm was apparently capable of wearing down almost anyone, and it wasn’t long before Maric and Loghain were a constant sight together on the practice field.

Rowan often watched the training sessions, amused by the constant bickering and banter between Maric and Loghain. Outside of the Night Elves, Loghain was regarded as a taciturn and even unfriendly man. Maric had a way of drawing him out, she noted, which she had been unable to do during their months traveling the Bannorn. Often she laughingly criticized Loghain’s sword techniques, primarily because it nettled Loghain and thus vastly amused Maric. Loghain became so incensed by Rowan’s comments that, seething with anger, he challenged her to a duel to prove which of them knew more of swordsmanship. Grinning, she accepted.

Maric was incredibly excited by the entire idea, and immediately ran about the rebel camp announcing that the duel was about to occur. Within an hour, Loghain and Rowan had an audience of hundreds of cheering men.

Leery of the size of their audience, Loghain turned to Rowan. “Do you truly wish to pursue this?” he asked her, his expression solemn.

“I believe it was you who challenged me.”

“Then I withdraw the challenge,” he said instantly. “And I apologize for losing my temper. It will not happen again.”

Amid the boos and sounds of disappointment made by the soldiers nearby who had heard him, Rowan appeared nettled instead. “I do not accept your withdrawal,” she replied, “provided you fight me to the best of your ability. You want to see which of us knows how to use our sword better? So do I.”

Loghain stared at her appraisingly, wondering if she was, in fact, serious. She said nothing, instead drawing her blade and returning his stare defiantly. After a long minute he finally nodded his assent, cheers going up from the crowd.

Loghain was the stronger of the two, but Rowan was the quicker—and perhaps the more determined. Their initial feints drew loud cheers from the audience, and then they settled into a series of back-and-forth blows to test the other’s defenses. Rowan soon realized that Loghain was holding back, however, and angrily dived in with a blindingly fast slash, cutting him across the leg. He waved off aid, staring sternly at Rowan for a moment before nodding. If this was how she wanted it, this was how it would be.

The following battle lasted almost an hour and was the talk of the camp for months afterwards. Loghain and Rowan fought savagely, each giving as good as they got, and both of them were bloodied before long. A slash across Rowan’s forehead sent blood dripping into her eyes and gave Loghain the opportunity to go for the final blow—which he took. Only at the last second did she roll out of the way, then tipped her sword toward him respectfully. With both exhausted and sweating, a worried Maric tried to end the duel by calling a draw. Not looking away from Loghain, Rowan waved him off.

Minutes later it was over when Loghain came in low and unexpectedly thrust upward with his blade, disarming Rowan. The audience murmured excitedly as her blade skittered far out of her reach. Instead of giving up or going for her weapon, Rowan dropped down and kicked out with her leg, tripping Loghain, and leaped to grab his sword. The two of them fought for control of the blade, rolling around on the ground, their sweat and blood intermingling. Finally Loghain kicked Rowan off, the audience cheering as he rolled after her and sprang to his feet, sword pointed at Rowan’s throat.

She glanced at the sword, her breathing ragged and blood still running down into her eyes. Loghain was similarly panting, pale and favoring his wounded leg. He held out a hand to Rowan and reluctantly she took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. The audience went wild, cheering with approval.