So, just to say it before hand, I am going to be trying something new in this chapter: Music. Basically how it works is that there will be a note in bold parenthesis that signifies when to begin playing the song, which will also be included in the parentheses, and another bold parentheses to signal when to stop playing it. However, sometimes the latter of the two won't be included due to the song going all the way to the end of the chapter. I've seen this done many times in other fics, so I'm going to TRY and make it work for mine. And no, I am not being paid by the artists to promote there music and I did not sell my soul to the music industry... at least not yet.
"So you knew about this!" Marcus accused Charles as they walked the hallways of the Trevelyan castle with the former's guards and Helen close behind them.
"The siege?" Charles asked rhetorically before answering him. "It was more of an educated guess, and it's less that I wanted for my city to be besieged and more that I knew you wouldn't believe me if I said anything."
And that this is the perfect opportunity for me to regain a foothold in Ostwick. He added to himself. In his pragmatic mind, opportunity was opportunity, even if it involved the death of his own people.
"Your city?!" Marcus blustered at his brother's use of the word, ignoring the other part of his statement. For both he and Charles both knew that neither of the two trusted each other in any manner or use of the word. Charles merely smiled slyly at the distraught, yet infuriated look on Marcus' face as another quake shook the castle.
"Your Lordship!" A screech echoed the halls as a servant, the source of said screech, rounded the corner ahead of them.
"Ella?" Marcus gasped as the servant woman ran quite literally into his arms. Her black and white dress was padded down by the sweat on her body, telling them that she must have ran quite a distance to reach them.
"My Lord!" Ella began frantically as she looked at Marcus, who was much greater than her in height. "You need to leave right now!"
"Ella, calm down." Marcus grasped her small hands against his chest, causing Charles to roll his eyes.
Bleh. Feelings.
"What is going on?" Marcus asked her, the softness in his voice meant to calm the heavily breathing woman. "Why do we need to leave?"
Ella took a moment of breath before she continued. "T-They've reached the river, m-my Lord..."
"WHAT?!" This time it was Charles who spoke up in anger, breaking his usually cold and calm persona. The only way Ostwick could have been besieged by land was from the north, and since the river Tiberius cut from north-west to the south-eastern harbor, that could only mean that they had broke through the twin city walls and had taken numerous city districts. "HOW?!" He shouted at the servant, who then clung closer to Marcus at his fury.
"They had c-cannons." Ella shuttered in her explanation. "Big, loud cannons..."
"Cannons? That could only mean that they..." Charles sighed, not finishing his sentence. "Great, now the Qunari want my head too for some random reason! I've only raided their settlements in Antiva and Riviani like... six times, and only permanently expelled the entire Qunari population from Ostwick one time! RUDE! But those cannons still don't account for how they overcame our forces and made it inside the city so quickly!"
"The pack is nothing without their alpha..." Helen mumbled behind them.
"Enough!" Marcus raised his voice at them before lowering it and releasing Ella's hands. "It doesn't matter how they got in, what matters now is that we stop them." He turned to Charles. "We need to get to the armory."
The siege was sudden, one second the walls of Ostwick stood tall and strong, and the next their cannons had crushed them and shook the city to its very foundation. Capturing the ramparts was a slaughter without grief, and left a whole in the walls for an endless grey of soldiers from Markham, Hercinia, Ansburg, and Wycome to pour through and begin the plunder. Through storm they went forth to the towns, killing and burning all that stood in their path as water fell from the sky. The city was besieged, all hell on Ostwick unleashed as the cannons cross the walls the city shakes.
Fear is spreading, and the wings of the eagle have been broken
"Ostwick must fall!" Over the flames, death and rain, one commander from the north, one who had seen war before, John Casimir his name, called out to the men who fought for the coalition against Ostwick. "Disregard the losses, the city's ours to take!" His interest in the fight against the city was both personal and professional.
Hate is increasing, and the beak of the eagle has been broken.
Only half the city remains now. When we reach the richer parts, I'll make sure every piece of jewelry, every coin of gold, and every work of art that he stole gets returned to their rightful owners. Casimir thought as the brown manned horse he rode upon reached the head of his forces, which had for some reason halted completely in front of the bridge that crossed over the Tiberius.
Death and pain - it is all that they had brought as the eagle's land was theirs to take.
Only the sound of fire crackling behind them, river flowing beneath them and rain pouring and pattering against the ground could be heard because, suddenly, in the midist of the siege the violence had ceased, but the tension was still fresh in the air. Casimir's brown eyes cast their solemn gaze upon the marble white bridge which crossed over to what remained of Ostwick, and on the other side he saw what caused his own soldiers to stop.
Across the bridge, and on the other shore stood the same heavily armoured legions that he had faced so long ago on that long-stretching field which turned red with the blood of soldier and civilian. Casimir looked back and forth from his own troops to the men on the other side, both stood with banners held high and hearts ready to die. While his own greatly outnumbered the remaining Caroleans, he remembered how greatly the numbers had been against them before, and how the Caroleans had still come out on top against the odds.
It will be different now. He thought as the standoff between the two armies continued. We have the advantage not only in numbers, but now he's not here.
But as soon that thought crossed his mind, a crack in the wall of Caroleans opened up, and out from the blue and yellow emerged the demon who had haunted Casimir's dreams ever since the climatic battle of Rose's Rebellion on that bloody plain so long ago. Carolus' eyes seemed to pierced across the bridge into Casimir's own, and at that moment the two knew what needed to be done. From the opposite ends of Tiberius' bridge, the two generals dismounted their horses, and walked slowly towards one another and left their forces behind them. As the devilishly handsome face of Ostwick's tycoon came into clear sight, Casimir remembered how all of this could have been avoided, or at least he thought it could've, so long ago.
Three years before the explosion at the Conclave, in the chaotic fear-stricken city of Wycome...
"We shall consume Ostwick in flames!" A noble proclaimed.
"Every man, woman, and child shall burn!" Another shouted.
"Salt the scorched earth when we are finished!" A third proposed.
The Wycome city-council chamber was filled with shouts of agreement, laughter, and other suggestions by various nobles from Hercinia, Markham, Ansburg, and of course Wycome itself. However, not a single man protested the notion posed to burn Ostwick to the ground as they stood from their seats in an uproarious discussion.
"Enough!" One nobleman raised his voice high enough to peak over the chaos of noises and words already filling the room. "Hercinia has fallen and our western suppliers have failed us. All lands south of the Vimmarks are lost. Where was the last report of his whereabouts?"
"My spies in the south have informed me his fleet has set sail! We must expect an amphibious invasion at the mouth of the Minanter!"(1)
"This is nonsense! No fleet has sailed, Wycome is the sole master of the eastern coastline of the Free Marches! He's not attacking, he's making allies! At this very moment he courts the city of Bastion. The Antivans! Their armies will invade from the Weyrs and the north will be lost!"
"Ridiculous! Those bloody Antivans wouldn't dare turn against the second-biggest importer of their damn wine! Our alliance with them is absolute no matter how honeyed his words may be. I believe the attack will come from the west! He intends to march his forces through a secret passage way through the southern mountains that will led him to Starkhaven, he then will sweep around and take the forces around Ansburg by complete surprise!"
"No, no, no, you all have it wrong! He will come not from the north, or the east or the west... my informants in the south tell me that he is massing his Caroleans in the Horn Valley. He intends to circumnavigate our fortifications at the Simmering Pass and led his forces-"
"Over the Vimmarks?!" A different nobleman interrupted. The entire chamber became filled with laughs and insults at the nobleman named John Casimir, he who tried to warm them.
"In the middle of winter!"
"He would lose half of his army to the cold alone!"
"The other half would desert!"
"Do you expect the wolves and bears to welcome him when he arrives?!"
"I suppose he will bring with him an army of Griffons!"
The laughter in the room echoed even louder than before.
"My fellow Free Marchers, I dare say that would be quite the feat, even for the great Carolus Rex."
Years later, as the city of Wycome suffered from the economic depression caused by war reparations and a ravished country-side, Casimir always looked back at that moment whenever he needed something to make him feel better about the state of his city, and about himself. It could have been saved if they had only listened to him, but now he would avenge the many lost because of the ignorance of a few.
"BESIEGED?!" Cassandra flopped back against the couch behind her before hiding her face in her hands and groaning. "I let him out of my sight for one second and he's already fighting another war!" She exclaimed in frustration, dropping her arms to her sides.
"Isn't he a General or something?" Isabela asked as she placed a rum-filled mug on the wooden round table she sat at. "It's his job to fight big battles or whatever. You shouldn't worry yourself with him, it's not like he's a newbie at these kind of things."
"She's right, Cassandra." Varric agreed as he folded a deck of cards. He and Isabela sat at the same table along with Merrill, Fenris, and Sera. Solas had excused himself to attend to a matter of which he refused to speak of. "You shouldn't be tearing yourself up over this. It's not healthy." He said with concern before dealing an extra sixth deck for her. "Come on Seeker, I'm sure a game of wicked grace will wash away your worries."
Cassandra sighed before standing up from the disheveled couch. "I thank you for your concern, Varric, " a smile appeared across the dwarf's face, "but I have to decline your offer."
The smile had disappeared off of Varric's face now as Cassandra turned to leave the room they had rented to say in. "Why?" The kind, caring tone which he carried hitherto was gone as well. "Are you so obsessed with the Herald that you can't even focus enough to sit down with your friends and play a simple game to pass the time?"
"Oh dear..." Merrill slowly slouched in her chair as she felt the air of the room turned thick and uncomfortably tense. She had only felt like this before whenever Fenris and Hawke would argue about magic, and those were anything but respectful and polite debates.
"Fenris," Isabela whispered and poked the elf who sat next to her in the arm, "get the popcorn."
"For the last time... I do not have 'popcorn'. I do not even know what this 'popcorn' you speak to me of every time something dramatic happens is!"
Cassandra's head snapped back at Varric and the rest of her body soon followed. "Obsessed?!" She said angrily, walking back towards the round table and looked down at the sitting dwarf.
"Yes! Obsessed!" Varric reiterated as he stood from his chair.
"Just like you are obsessed with that crossbow?" Cassandra harshly stated, pointing to said crossbow which rested on a shelf to her left. "An inanimate object?"
"At least the person who I named the crossbow after actually shares my feelings!" Varric shot back. She recoiled at his words, and Varric could tell he had struck a weak spot in the Seeker's armor. Cassandra glared at him, brow narrowed. But Varric was a people-person and could see as clear as day that she was hurt dearly by his words.
"I... I don't need this." Cassandra held back her feelings before storming out of the room and slamming the door behind her. She turned down the hallway that led to the stairway down to the lobby, ignoring Varric calling for her to apologize.
I don't need any of this... She thought as she made her way out of the tavern. In her immediate view across the rain was the gate from before which Charles had gone through. Her eyes widened when she realized that the guards from before were missing. Cassandra rushed over to the metal-bar gate before she saw that it was locked. But what she also noticed was that the doors to the battlements were not barred closed, but only locked.
"I can get that."
Cassandra swiftly drew her sword and turned to the unexpected voice that spoke up from behind her.
"Aye!" Sera slapped the sword away from where it pointed at her neck. "Chill out, Cassandra! I was offering to help!" But the Seeker still kept her blade pointed at the elf.
"What are you doing here?" Cassandra glowered suspiciously at her. "Why are you following me?"
Sera met her scowl with one of her own. "I'm here for Charles, not you."
That only made Cassandra angrier. "For him?!" She asked, tightening her glare.
"Congratulations, you can hear and repeat back words for dramatic effect!" Sera said sarcastically. "Although you're still being stupid and all that for acting like you've got special rights to being worried about him."
"I never said that!" Exclaimed Cassandra.
"Sure, whatever you say." Sera relented. "Could you just move outta the way so I can get that door?"
"...Fine." Cassandra gave in, and a smile crossed the city elf's face before she turned around and called out to seemingly no one.
"It's safe now, Merrill! You can come out now!"
Oh you cannot be serious. Cassandra thought as the dalish elf from earlier emerged from her hiding spot behind some crates and as Sera brushed past her to work unlocking the door.
"I didn't mean to upset you, Miss Seeker." Merrill murmured as she walked up next to Cassandra. "I just wanted to make sure that Charles doesn't get hurt because... he's, you know... important... because of the mark... and stuff."
"It's fine, Merrill." Cassandra assured her before Sera brushed past her and went to work unlocking the door. "My anger got the better of me... again." She sighed as the door's lock clicked undone. The three women then made their way through and up the stairwell which led them to emerge out unto the battlements, which were completely empty as the soldiers who were before watchmen now stood in the battle that was about to take place.
"You see that?!" Sera was the first one to catch glimpse of the two armies on either side of the river. "Is that him?" She pointed to one of the figures crossing the bridge.
"I..." Cassandra paused and squinted as she looked over the merlon of the wall they were on and saw one persons from either side of the long and wide bridge, slowing walking towards one another, "...can't tell." The two of them watched on as the two figures came closer and closer.
"Miss Seeker!" Cassandra looked to where Merrill had called to her from, the door to the tower of the wall, that door which would have led them inside the city. "The door... this one is barred." The dalish stated, and Cassandra was distraught to see that this door would not be one she could kick in as it was barred with several steel bars that were visible on either side of the doorway.
"Damn it!" Cassandra let loose a burst of anger and slammed her fist into the stone battlements, chipping off bits of rock and dust with the force of her strike.
Why?! She looked up at the raining clouds and asked to God.
Why give me the way of sword if I am to but sit and observe? She watched as Sera and Merrill did just that, walked over to the edge of the battlements and observed the coming battle.
What good am I if not fighting? To not be a warrior? That is who I am! She remembered her old life, the one of nobility and princesses, the one she venomously rejected now. It was not with grace and tact she had chosen to carry herself, but with iron-hearted will and obdurate determination. That is all I am...
But Cassandra begrudgingly knew in the back of her head that this odyssey would brutally disregard what she thought of herself, of her beliefs, and of everything else the world would throw at her in the coming days.
The two Generals met at the middle of the arch bridge over the Tiberius. The northern wind howled loudly in their ears as the storm clouds blackened the sky and the rain pelted the floor made from marble and hard dust as they came to face one another.
"So this is it." Spoke Casimir as the rain drizzled down his silverite, heavy Orlesion armor.
"I suppose it is." Charles shot back while the rainfall wet his black tricorne hat and blue uniform. (2)
"You don't remember me." Casimir snorted. "Do you?"
"Nope. Sorry, but nothing about you really stands out from my other enemies. Well, besides the fact that you've actually managed to reach Ostwick. But I can assure you that your time here won't be long lasting. Unless I decide to dump your body into the river."
Casimir's face scrunched in anger at the constant cocky attitude that the Terror of the Free Marches carried himself with and the fact that he seemed to be taking his invasion with a gran of salt, as if it could be swatted down with the flick of his wrist.
Won't be like that. We are going to beat him this time.
"Your overconfidence will be your undoing." Casimir scorned. Behind him, down on the river, his troops began rolling small galleys into the water as Charles' own did the same. The river Tiberius was about half a mile from the bank which the coalition forces stood on, loading the warships with archers, swordsmen, and others, to where the Caroleans on the other shore mirrored their movements.
"That's what they all say." Chuckled Charles as he eyed Casimir like a cat would a mouse, a predator its prey.
Casimir clenched his armored fists before pointing an accusing finger at Charles. "You are a monster! A criminal of war!"
"They also say those things too."
"A moral stain upon the bottom of Thedas' boot!"
"That..." Charles paused for a moment to think,"... is actually a new one."
"And you will be wiped away like one too! You have gathered an extraordinary amount of enemies with your greed and ambition, and one day you will pay. Today is that day." Casimir finished before withdrawing his pointing hand to his side.
Charles closed his eyes and gave a chortle at his proclamation. "My enemies may be many, but my equals stay naught." His crystal eyes opened with a newly dawned glare that pierced into Casimir's own sage colored eyes. "In the shadow of the great Vimmarks, they said Markham could never be conquered. In the thick farmlands alongside the Minanter river, they said Ansburg could never be humbled. In the land of Antivan wine and free men, they said Wycome could never be tamed. Now, they say nothing. They fear me, like a force of nature: an angel of death and a harbinger of destruction." Charles reached up to his shoulder and lifted his blue greatcoat before throwing it to the wind. "Now it is my turn to speak, and I say I am the new world order to come! I say that the Free Marches and all of Thedas will be my Imperium, and I its Imperator. So, I will give you one final chance. Kneel," Casimir beamed with fiery intensity at the man who declared himself emperor, "before I bring you to your knees."
"Never." Casimir bared his teeth and shook his head as he drew his broadsword. It gave off a shining silver light from the blade which was shrouded in fire, showing that it had a rather powerful enchantment of flame placed on it. "My men fight with the true will of the Maker on their side, unlike your phony Inquisition."
"Perhaps." Charles acknowledged as he drew the weapon from his side. This was not the sword which he had stolen from Maric's son, instead of bright golden metal this sword was a slightly curved blade colored black with a frenzy of electricity forming around the metal as Charles pulled it from its seethe. "But while you have the 'right', I have the might." He smiled as the trumpets of war sounded from either side of the bridge, calling forth both armies to charge forth and the ships on the water below to begin to sail forwards, both to engage their foe.
"Let's find out which one comes out on top, shall we?!" Carolus Rex proclaimed as flame and lighting clashed, their swords clenching against one another as the Caroleans, both on foot and horseback, broke their traditional line formation and charged forth the opposite force of knights and mercenaries, both on foot and horseback as well, who also rushed forwards with just as much valor. Both sides of warships below the bridge began to fire ballistae, arrows, and all sorts of projectiles, some even set ablaze, at the opposing fleet as well as sending ships to board the other longboats. So long as any one warrior of either of the two armies strong and vast remained, neither would past to the other side of the city. Around the warriors of land and sea, it would have seemed as if nature itself accommodated herself for the great battle.
The bridge shuddered and the river shook violently as from above the grey clouds began to shoot lightning bolts down into the battle of land and sea along with the barrage of heavy rain. Any light from the sun had vanished from the black stormy skies. The beastly winds began to howl louder and louder, causing the river to lash furiously against the arched pillars of the bridge and crash upon the Tiberian shores on either bank of the Tiberius. As the air around the fight exploded with cracks of lightning, screams of pain and fury became intertwined with the sound of steel blades clashing against armour and spears piercing flesh. The waters of the Tiberius became ruby red as blood flowed from bodies fallen from the bridge into the river below as ships were sinking, burning, shooting, or being boarded as the soldiers fought one another on the wooden decks before being thrown into the raging depths below.
As the battle of thousands surged, Marcus had long since joined the fray. His heart beat faster than it ever had before as he blocked, slashed and stabbed at anything not wearing blue and yellow or red and white. He withdrew his blade from the chest of one soldier before he turned to the next, but this one was different; this one was an elf who, using his quick hands, knocked the dragonbone sword straight out of his gauntleted hand and off the bridge. His expression under his great helm quickly turned from that of battle fury to endangered worry, but that was soon removed as a blade appeared out from the elf's chest before he fell to the ground dead, revealing Charles standing over his corpse.
"Come now, Brother." Charles smiled at him as he handed him his own shock enchanted sword to replace his lost one. "I thought you didn't like me hogging all the glory!" He laughed before picking up a Dane axe off one of the dead bodies that lay strewn across the blood spattered marble.
"You'd be correct!" Marcus said as he cut down another mercenary that was about to strike Charles from behind. The brothers fought back to back, side to side, together as the heat of battle burned and the storm raged around them.
"Too bad I'm totally beating you in kills right now!" Charles exclaimed as he swung the axe over his head with both hand to cut down two warriors with a single swipe.
"Ha! In your dreams!" Marcus laughed as he kicked a fully armoured knight off the bridge. Drenched in blood, the Caroleans battled on with righteous rage and like brothers fought and died side by side. There would be no surrender, no retreat, and no mercy shown.
"Well it doesn't count as a kill if they drown!" Charles gibed before he climbed up the bridge's tower and called out over the chaos of lighting, rain, waves, wind, and war. He blew into what looked to be a winding horn which he had kept strapped to his waist, drawing the attention of a great many warriors to himself as he did. "Hark, Caroleans! Reform on our side!"
Suddenly the fighting on the bridge began to ease momentarily as the Caroleans withdrew to their side of the bridge and began to form a wall of shields in front of the two brothers. On the other side, the soldiers from the anti-Ostwick coalition had also regrouped. Ostwick's protectors stood vastly outnumbered, almost five to one.
Still, Charles loved the odds as the warriors from Wycome, Hercinia, Ansburg, and Markham broke formation and charged the wall of shield and sword, bearing their teeth as they did. As the wise man once said, once your heart is in battle there's no turning back; and as blood starts to boil as attackers charged and the defenders banged their swords simultaneously against their shields, that statement proved ever-so true.
"Hold the line!" Charles loudly ordered as the enemy, with a cry of war echoing through their lungs, drew closer and closer. Hordes of men on foot and horse crashed against the shields like waves against cliffs. Men of war met their fate as the fire within was ignited by bloodshed, and neither side feared the grave. Hours of battle passed, the tide of warriors came again and again against the Caroleans and their shield wall and at times looked as if it would break, but from atop his black steed Charles commanded; removing certain amounts of troops from one part of the shield wall that was less pressured and to parts where the wall needed relief. Line by line, the Caroleans fought for their lives, brave men to heavens rose, and just as their foes hit the shields like waves would, they eventually were forced to brake away.
Charles glanced down at the naval war that took place on the river below. His ships had sunk or captured most of the enemy's, and now were using them to shoot arrows and ballistae at the enemies on the bridge. He felt it again, the battle turning, the storm clouds clearing, and the enemies morale bleeding. He could sense the tides of fate shifting in his favor. He chuckled at the fact that even destiny could not overthrow him, and would instead be bent by his might to his will. The one whom none could trounce would have to be destroyed by something beyond mortal hands, but even then, Charles had his doubts.
Though I'd have to drop the whole 'crusader' guise, it'd be interesting to see if the Maker would put a better fight than his faithful.
The giant surprise attack on a supposedly vulnerable Ostwick had turned to a throe of devastating war as many a man from Ostwick and beyond lay in the river dead. The road to the city was blocked, denied to entered the gates, through they tried; did what they could, died where they stood. The unconquered city stands strong on Tiberius' shore, protected by its people.
Tisk tisk, they'll never learn, will they? He thought with a content smile as he reached for the blowing horn again, and, as the Gjallarhorn sounded through the storm of war and of nature, the Caroleans broke the their lines and charged. A swarm of cavalry that Charles himself rode with followed the infantry; finally driving their foe off the bridge and sending them fleeing through the parts of the city which they previously sacked. On the Bridge of Tiberius they ran out of luck, those men who had fought so hard and who now fled through the alleyways and streets like livestock from hot iron. Even through they'd surrender, they would never survive as the battle of Ostwick turns, and becomes a killing ground as Carolus Rex pressed on in pursuit of glory, bathing his unconquerable zeal in gore.
The walls of the city were reclaimed on that very day, and as the storm cleared, peace in Ostwick was restored for a moment longer.
1. This is the river in the Free Marches that runs horizontally all the way from Nevarra to Wycome, where it splits into multiple deltas, several of which are at close quarters to Wycome. I'm not one hundred percent sure, but by looking at a map of Thedas it would seem that the Minanter is also the longest river in Dragon Age. The whole flashback part makes a whole lot more sense if you were to just look at a map of Thedas for reference.
2. This is the same uniform Charles' wore to the funeral (Charles XII's uniform). I'll probably keep this as his permeant outfit unless I think of something better or there's a overwhelmingly negative response by you guys (the readers).
One final thing, what do you guys think of the whole addition of music? Is it good? Bad?