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(( 7 Firstfall, Late Afternoon, Teyrn Cousland's Office - @Fergus Cousland ))
The South Wall problem was getting worse.
Not counting the weeks they'd spent in Denerim when he'd been tasked with staffing the estate's security, Ferren had devoted most of his time to making things better beyond the wall. Those people hadn't asked to be in that situation, and he'd done everything in his power to find places for them. Jobs. Homes. New lives where they could start over.
But for every person who just needed a little help getting back onto their feet, it seemed like there were three more trying to take advantage. Not of him or Fergus. Not yet, anyway. Right now it was people doing every damn thing they could to stir up trouble. There'd been a noticeable increase in crime. Robberies mostly, but a few physical altercations here and there. At first the disputes were just a matter of people who had so little taking on those they saw as having more--even when that wasn't the case. Food, clothing, and whatever valuables people had managed to hold onto.
Over the past week, though, it started to turn into specific things. Building materials and tools stolen from the people living inside the temporary walls, and from the masons who'd been contracted to put up and repair those walls. Weapons went missing after that. Smiths' hammers and skinners' knives, farmers' pitchforks and builders' shovels. After those dried up, they started getting bolder, trying to take weapons from Guard caches Ferren ended up having to completely do away with, despite how much time it saved.
All of it made him think there was something going on. Something more than restlessness at how long it the whole thing was taking. Unhappy people were vulnerable people, and criminals knew just how to exploit vulnerable people. He should know--he'd been raised to do it, too. He'd never been any good at it, but he knew the basics. Get somebody so worked up about some "other" who had more than them despite working less for it, and they could be directed to do just about anything to tear that person down, even if they destroyed themselves in the process.
Speaking of in-fighting, Ferren and Cavagh were at odds again. Cavagh wanted a stronger guard presence--more than Ferren had already allowed. He wanted more patrols, more people hired and trained specifically to keep the peace, and Ferren just wasn't comfortable with that. There was a real thin line between keeping crime down and being this constant force that darkened everybody's doorstep, and he didn't want to cross it. Not unless he absolutely had to.
And even then, there were other ways.
He was prepared to talk to Fergus about that if it came up, though he wasn't surprised to see Cavagh traveling the same hall he made his way down. The two men passed each other with a nod. Cavagh wouldn't call him out when he was due to report, so Ferren counted his blessings and continued to the teyrn's office. He was expected, so he rapped on the door before letting himself in.
"Your Grace," he greeted, offering a formal bow. His demeanor relaxed somewhat after that, but there was still something strained about it. "Bet you're already tired o' hearing about the South Wall, but I'm not gonna be breaking the trend anytime soon."
The South Wall problem was getting worse.
Not counting the weeks they'd spent in Denerim when he'd been tasked with staffing the estate's security, Ferren had devoted most of his time to making things better beyond the wall. Those people hadn't asked to be in that situation, and he'd done everything in his power to find places for them. Jobs. Homes. New lives where they could start over.
But for every person who just needed a little help getting back onto their feet, it seemed like there were three more trying to take advantage. Not of him or Fergus. Not yet, anyway. Right now it was people doing every damn thing they could to stir up trouble. There'd been a noticeable increase in crime. Robberies mostly, but a few physical altercations here and there. At first the disputes were just a matter of people who had so little taking on those they saw as having more--even when that wasn't the case. Food, clothing, and whatever valuables people had managed to hold onto.
Over the past week, though, it started to turn into specific things. Building materials and tools stolen from the people living inside the temporary walls, and from the masons who'd been contracted to put up and repair those walls. Weapons went missing after that. Smiths' hammers and skinners' knives, farmers' pitchforks and builders' shovels. After those dried up, they started getting bolder, trying to take weapons from Guard caches Ferren ended up having to completely do away with, despite how much time it saved.
All of it made him think there was something going on. Something more than restlessness at how long it the whole thing was taking. Unhappy people were vulnerable people, and criminals knew just how to exploit vulnerable people. He should know--he'd been raised to do it, too. He'd never been any good at it, but he knew the basics. Get somebody so worked up about some "other" who had more than them despite working less for it, and they could be directed to do just about anything to tear that person down, even if they destroyed themselves in the process.
Speaking of in-fighting, Ferren and Cavagh were at odds again. Cavagh wanted a stronger guard presence--more than Ferren had already allowed. He wanted more patrols, more people hired and trained specifically to keep the peace, and Ferren just wasn't comfortable with that. There was a real thin line between keeping crime down and being this constant force that darkened everybody's doorstep, and he didn't want to cross it. Not unless he absolutely had to.
And even then, there were other ways.
He was prepared to talk to Fergus about that if it came up, though he wasn't surprised to see Cavagh traveling the same hall he made his way down. The two men passed each other with a nod. Cavagh wouldn't call him out when he was due to report, so Ferren counted his blessings and continued to the teyrn's office. He was expected, so he rapped on the door before letting himself in.
"Your Grace," he greeted, offering a formal bow. His demeanor relaxed somewhat after that, but there was still something strained about it. "Bet you're already tired o' hearing about the South Wall, but I'm not gonna be breaking the trend anytime soon."
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