Drums of War
"Where is he?" Osecar's eloquently accented voice now had a discord of fear in it. He had waited on the walls of the city with Geoffrey Oghren, Wynne, and Zevran, watching the darkspawn hordes pour out of the trees and assemble for battle on the outside of the city. The darkspawn pall that settled over the city. The fear that had taken hold in Osecar's mind had spread to all the others, the darkspawn would not wait for Aldanon and yet he was needed here and now of all times. What was worse was the fact of Marquis Jacques disappearance; and on top of that, Duke d'Aubrac had left the field to return to one of his castles in the city. Geoffrey's normally composed authority was beginning to break under the pressure of waiting, which Charles was disapproving due to his lieutenant's role in leading the army.
"We cannot wait any longer; one of us needs to go into the city and find him and the Marquis." Geoffrey's hard voice carried to the rest of the group while they watched the darkspawn assemble on the field anxiously.
"But if the Warden Commander catches one of us leading, he would call us deserters," Zevran stated sensibly
"And I don't wanna know what the punishment for that is here!" Oghren added, nudging Zevran's side hard.
"One of us will still have to go, what if Aldanon's in trouble?" Wynne asked rhetorically. The rest of the group stopped to think for a few moments, uncertain how to proceed. Osecar's logic based mind would have dictated that they continued the battle without him, but Aldanons essentiality was vital for victory.
"I will go," he announced with a sudden flow of courage and resolution, striding about the walls "I will take a horse and say that I'm running a few last-minute errands for the templars and try and locate him."
"How will you find him, Osecar?" Wynne asked in confusion, in response Osecar drew out a thin vial of blood with thick green glass, no bigger than a small lyrium potion. Zevran and Wynne gave him analytical looks and studied the vial; Oghren glared at him and stifled a belch, and Geoffrey's rigid stoic look hardened still.
"Where the sod did you get that, mage?" Oghren questioned him in an outraged and disgusted voice.
"I took it as a sample to test his blood for infections from a genlock knife wound," Osecar explained to the group and started applying numerous ingredients from his belt to the blood and started whisking it around, moving away from the group as he prepared the concoction, and overlooking the city, "he wasn't poisoned, but I couldn't simply cast the sample away. If I apply the blood to my arcane abilities, and focus on a scrying spell, the spell will seek him out, and then I should be able to locate him." He added the last ingredient, a small portion of lyrium dust. The potion started to glow intensely with magic, so much so that Osecar flinched as the energy heated his hand. Suddenly the potion exploded, releasing a glowing spark of magic, swirling with the blood from the sample. As if alive, it rocketed around and started circling around, as if trying to detect its origins, only Osecar could follow it's movements.
"I need to follow it, wait here!" he announced to the group urgently, "I'll fire a blue spark into the sky if he's alright – it will mean he's returning. If you see a red spark shoot into the air it will mean trouble, and Wynne, you will have to ride to the Empress and warn her if that happens, take the Zev and Ogrhen with you to join the Empress. Geoffrey and I will have to remain here with the wardens and the rest of the army." When he finished he jumped, right over the edge of the wall he jumped. The others rushed over to see had had landed safely, and he had, right next to a lightly clad horse too. Before Geoffrey could command him to stop, he saddled up and galloped off into the city after the magical spark. The rest of the group stared after him in utter surprise as his mounted form disappeared into the winding streets of the city. Zevran and Oghren stared at the horse that sped off into the distance, incredulous looks painting their faces at the suddenness of it all.
"Heh, not bad for a little guy, who would've thought it, eh Zev?" Oghren commented Zevran, who nodded.
A smile grew across Wynne's face, a proud, satisfied look that was reminiscent to a teacher pleased of an old pupil who had found success in life, and Geoffrey raised his hand to scratch his helmeted head in confusion.
"Geoffrey, have you considered the boy a position as second Warden-Lieutenant?" Wynne said to Geoffrey in admiring tone, clearly impressed by Osecar's sudden actions, Geoffrey simply stared at her incredulously.
"If we knew about this ability of his earlier," Geoffrey explained, wholly surprised "he would have been made an officer, but he never came out of his shell, always thinking about magics and practicing by himself."
"It goes to show that we mages are full of surprises." She chuckled.
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The spark of magic that whizzed through the city was enough to leave Osecar's lightly saddled steed tired out within a few minutes. Fortunately, judging by the intensity of the glow of the spark, he seemed to be getting closer to Aldanon. All of the sudden, his horse stopped in fear. She whinnied and reared up, as if trying to fight an invisible foe. Osecar dismounted before she could rear up again, once he was off he could distinguish what his steed was sensing. There was something evil afoot in the air; foul magic. He tied the horse to a nearby tree and left her there, knowing that if she were to take flight he would be stuck, and in danger. He strode towards the source of the magic, keeping his illuminated staff ahead of him in his right, and a small fireball in his left. He could sense the magic was coming from the back alleys of the city, where hundreds of petty criminals made their villainous lives in the city's shadow. But the spark moved away from the source, towards one of the main roads in the city, Emperor's Avenue, a region mostly comprised of common folk houses. The spark was glowing very brightly now, suddenly it raced down the avenue towards something broken and clad in gold, near something silvery. Osecar stopped dead in his tracks, he knew what it was. His heart exploded into his throat as he ran towards the figures; both of them were very familiar. Aldanon and Jacques lay dead in a pool of blood beside each other. He stared at them in utter disbelief, stepped back and blathered in incomprehensible shock for a moment, and then with his entire might of magic, jets of blood-red light shot into the sky.
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Commander Charles had given the Empress and Queen Anora strict instructions to remain at Palais Royeaux to wait out the battle. But the sight of red light from the depths of the city was a worrying sight. It seemed that the only one to perceive the signal as a message of urgency was the Maximus the mabari. It was almost as if he could sense and smell the danger his master was in, and the evil behind it. It wasn't until a quarter of an hour later had the signal been seen that horses galloped out of the mist. Wynne, Zevran and Oghren rode towards the entrance of the palace to find Empress Celene, Queen Anora, their fellow courtiers, Ser Perth and the knights, and their respective guards waiting outside the palace, both leaders were looking so concerned it was unnerving, for both were confident rulers, who shouldn't know fear.
"Your Majesties come quickly!" Wynne urged breathily to the two monarchs, who stood surprised at her urgency. "Something terrible has happened and we think Aldanon and Marquis Jacques are in trouble!
"What are you talking about Wynne?" Anora queried in confusion, Celene's eyes widened in fear at the mention of her young cousin being in danger. Their retinues and guards stirred about, clearly distressed by the notion.
"Please, there's no time, Queen Anora! You both need to come with us before it gets out of hand. Follow us!"
"I recognised where the signal came from;" the Empress joined in at once, just as afraid as her fellows. "It was over Emperor's avenue, I can get you there quickly by foot. I'm afraid the horses must be taken back."
The rest of the party nodded in agreement and dismounted, and the Empress lead the way forth from the compound of the palace. Sensing the movement taking place, Maximus rushed to Wynne's side, whining pleadingly to join them. Oghren was normally used to carrying his weight, but the worrying fear in his stomach prevented him from running very quickly. Zevran's normally calm mind was breaking under the tension of the possibilities of what manner of danger awaited them; he knew this was the worst time to be under attack from a new force. The guards opened the great rail doors, and the whole group filed out of the palace and into the city.
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Anora ran through the streets with her escorts and several of the Ferelden embassy, her heart pounding in her chest, as if war drums were being sounded across the kingdom. She never really asked herself how she truly felt towards Aldanon, they got off to a good start, but he would challenge her regularly in meetings, but they never let it interfere with their personal lives. But now, with word of Aldanon dying or even dead, the thought chilled every fibre in her body. Who could possibly kill Aldanon, she thought, and why? Wynne, Zevran, Maximus and Oghren tried to keep pace with the desperate parties, but Wynne's age and Oghren's obesity slowed them down. The Empress and the Orlesian aristocrats were with her, she ran fairly slowly due to her huge dress, even tripping occasionally, but there was purpose and conviction in her pace. Both Ladies and their respective parties followed the Empress's to the street where the signal came from. A crowd of people had gathered there, and the guardsmen were keeping them in check. What they saw was more nightmare than a reality. Both men, Aldanon and Marquis Jacques were lying in a pool of blood. Anora let out an anguished scream that pierced the cityscape and collapsed at Aldanon's body. Celene wailed in horror too, but at the Marquis' death rather than the Warden King's. Their respective groups also broke out into a fevered dirge of weeping, gasping and screaming, at the sights of their respective lords. By the time Aldanon's former companions arrived at the scene, they had to force their way to see. Wynne was the most horrified at the bloodbath, she went deathly pale at once and she was suddenly colder than the evening air. She collapsed to her knees and knelt beside Aldanon's side.
"Nooo!" she wailed, her voice both pained and breaking with woe and terror "What has happened here?! Why him? Why of all the damned souls in this world, why his?!" she shrieked, tears flooding down her cheeks, soaking her robes, slowly she bundled up into a small ball and continued to weep. Maximus, Aldanon's loyal, steadfast hound broke down into lamented howling, Zevran ran over to comfort Wynne, gasped in shock at the pale corpse that was once his leader and friend. Oghren, who was carrying his mighty Vashoth battleaxe, literally dropped it and let out a noise in which no one could tell if it was an angry yell or a horrified one, but both emotions were relevant.
"I can scarcely believe it; I thought he was almost invincible." Zevran said, despair in his voice "Whatever treacherous scum did this, I will ensure they live to see my blade." He added in a tone that neared venomous.
"By the sodding Stone, I thought he would die in the deep roads like a Warden, not here in this place." Oghren moaned "Bad things are afoot, I'm sure." He picked his axe up and leant on it, head down. Celene, who had been nursing the Jacques' corpse, tears also streaming down her face, raised her head to Anora who ignored Jacques.
"Queen Anora, your Aldanon was a fine man, but one of my own lies in a pool of his blood. Please, show some recognition for his death." Anora listened closely, but was unmoved by Celene's tearful plea.
"Every ounce of respect due to the Marquis from us is yours, Celene, but a greater, far more heroic man lies dead as well. The man you said yourself saved Orlais." Anora's tone was becoming ruthless, almost demanding of the Empress, yet with a sign of criticality. But Celene met her claim with sharper words still, shaken by her conduct.
"If you held your cousin's own body in your hands, would you not shed tears for one who was once family?" she challenged Anora with a hardened expression. Anora was more than prepared this time and became as stone.
"I've held my father's bloodied corpse in my own hands, empress, he was the man who freed Ferelden with King Maric. I know what it's like to lose family, even if they committed wrongs before their deaths."
"Will you both shut up?!" Wynne's voice interrupted, grief still strangling her. "Two of our lords lie dead and you're discussing your pride?! Justice must be done here and now! Aldanon's murderer must be found." She collapsed back into weeping. Anora shook her head, still refusing to believe that Aldanon was dead.
"I'm sorry, Celene. But the unthinkable has occurred, we need to discover the truth of all this." Anora declared.
"I just can't quite stomach it!" Oghren shouted "He never died when we fought the Blight, how can he die here? In Orlais!" added the dwarf. Zevran's grieved expression suddenly became analytical. There was something wrong with the way Aldanon looks, he thought. He bent down to examine him, becoming more puzzled. Something sprung up in his mind; he recognised something of Aldanon that only he would notice.
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But then Duke Claude d'Aubrac entered the scene, with a whole patrol of his personal guard. What was he doing away from the army? What about the darkspawn? More to their surprise, he seemed quite collected despite the carnage. He was clad in a unique set of armour consisting of dragonbone with reds steel and a volcanic aurum. He walked over to Aldanon's body, and picked up Maric's Blade, Wynne snapped into a furious action.
"Unhand that blade right now, you greedy swine!" she growled with her staff raised, but the Duke ignored her, fingering the bloodied blade. He seemed somewhat proud of what he was doing, and what he was about to do and that confused Wynne. He motioned to one of the guards in Orlesian to raise the Marquis' body, opened the wound where a sword would have been, and slid the sword into the wound. There was no sound of flesh being cut. It fitted perfectly. The orlesians gasped, but the Fereldens became angry at the Duke's apparent accusation.
"As you can see, it was the lord Aldanon who killed Marquis Jacques; his blade matches the wound in his chest." He proclaimed, satisfaction in his voice, "And that means;" he paused and shouted "Ferelden treachery!!" pointing his finger across t the Fereldans. Swords rang across the street, Anora's group was outnumbered.
"WHAT!!??" the empress screamed, almost unable to comprehend or accept her husband's words, to whom she was screaming to no one could tell. "How could Aldanon murder Jacques? This, this is terrible!"
"You can't accuse us of treachery, you two-faced bastard! How dare you blame us?!" Anora shouted him down. d'Aubrac, but he was undaunted, and the shadow that was over them suddenly intensified as rage amounted.
"Anora!" the empress hissed at her, "You speak to my husband, show respect, the sword fits the wound."
"How can you believe that Aldanon would stoop to such low levels of evil?!" Anora demanded furiously, rising to challenge Celene directly, her face was a helm of determination and growing rage. "He was a hero."
"Your father, Loghain was a hero and he betrayed your first husband, Cailan." The Empress retorted. Anora's rage was amounting to more terrible heights. Wynne and the others backed away from the brewing trouble.
"You've bitten off more than you can chew, you backstabbing Orlesian!" Anora screamed maliciously.
"You see?" d'Aubrac turned to Celene "I told you these Fereldens could not be trusted, they deserve to be executed here and now. They murder one of our own, and blame us for the death of their lord. I say we kill them here and now! For Orlais!!" and in response, more swords were drawn and more soldiers began to flank him. But Wynne was one step ahead of him; she picked up Jacques' greatsword and noticed a part of the blade was missing, and looked at the open wound in Aldanon's body and noticed a shard, and examined it. It was the same metal as Jacque's sword, and she put the shard into the part of the blade where the metal was missing.
"Your majesty," she turned to Anora, "This sword is missing a shard of its blade; and I found this in the king's wound." She showed the sword to Anora and matched the notch to the shard; it fitted perfectly. There were more gasps of terror, shock and rage from the Orlesians, d'Aubrac noticed Wynne's deduction and fear flushed his face. "You see what this Fereldan accuses us of, my lady?! I have never seen such slander in my life! An Orlesian does not stoop to murder, unlike Fereldan dogs!" he taunted the Fereldans, who began roaring with rage and drew their swords, their bravery amused the Orlesians. The blood drained from Wynne's face as she realized what she just did, terror rising in her. More and more Orlesian soldiers were joining d'Aubrac's side, their blades drawn and their faces distinctly evil.
"Empress Celene, my mage has presented clear evidence that your cousin murdered my husband, and such an act is a declaration of war. Aldanon would not attack for any reason other than self-defence."
"You underestimate your standing, Queen Anora." Celene threatened "Jacques would not attack a soul for a half-copper. The death of a royal noble by foreign hands in Orlesian lands is liable to be punished by death. Or war, as you prefer. You have struck the first blow." Her voice was becoming more hostile. Ser Perth stepped forth.
"My Ladies please!" he beseeched in a voice that lacked his normal calm, trying to appeal to them "The enemy is on our very doorstep, we cannot afford to be divided. We need to help our lords, they may not be dead!"
"Know your place, Ferelden dog!" the Duke shouted him down belligerently, drawing his sword towards Ser Perth, "We will have no more dealings with traitorous barbarians; will we, my lady?" he turned to Celene, who was so pale and lost in grief, it seemed as though she were no longer Empress of her own realm.
"So be it," Celene concluded, regretful acknowledgment in her voice "from this hour henceforth, the Orleisan Empire declares war against the kingdom of Ferelden for heinous crimes committed in our lands, even if it means your inevitable defeat." Onlookers gasped in terror and some fled, but the soldiers stood their ground and drew blades. Over the heads of the challengers, a storm was brewing, thunder rolled in the clouds like mighty war drums. Anora had to defy the empress, to yield surrounded by her soldiers would be her death.
"Go against Ferelden and you will lose, Celene. We defied the Orlais once and we will do so again." She growled, but Celene's control over the growing chaos though her husband's control was evident. She accepted the challenge with an emotion that no one could tell was grief or anger, but she quickly cooled down.
"Your pride blinds you Anora. You struck the first blow, and now we strike ours." Celene said almost casually. "Seize the bodies, Aldanon's too!!" d'Aubrac cried out, and in a split second, orlesian soldiers led by him charged straight towards both bodies, swords drawn. Ser Perth rallied the Ferelden soldiers, and with a blow of his war horn, they struck out against the enemy. It turned into a blood bath. These orlesian soldiers were not prepared for the wrath and fury of the Fereldans, their faces had a wrath only akin to an enraged Maker and their grim determination set many soldiers into fleeing. But the d'Aubrac had anticipated this, suddenly from every corner of the city, beacons were being lit, and from the castles on each side of the city, silver lines were emerging from them; the Chevaliers were on the march, the ones who were being kept away from the battle by the his orders. And from the sky, the heavens screamed, and exploded above the battle, lightning surged from the sky, rain came down like a torrent, and fires were ignited, Val Royeaux recoiled in fear.
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The rain came down upon Val Royeaux like the wrath of the Maker himself, so much so that Anora was nearly blinded. She managed to get away from the chaos, still gasping and breathing heavily from the shock of it all, tears menaced to overcome her; so this is what it's come to, she thought, my father would have never allowed this. She noticed a soldier trying to recuperate from a fight with one of the empress's chevaliers; she clasped his shoulder gave him a scroll; the soldier gave her a inquiring look but her imperative tone turned it town.
"Take this to our ship, give it to the captain; he'll know what to do with it, Godspeed." She struggled to remain engaged and keep her emotions in check, but the soldier obeyed, running as fast as the Maker allowed. Anora managed to pick up a bow and joined the fray, striking every orlesian that approached. But soon the carnage was amounting and it would be a matter of time until the rest of the enemy noticed her. As her retinue began to falter around her, she found herself in direct combat, and became vulnerable. Too late she noticed the mounted chevalier coming towards her. The next thing she felt was a heavy, powerful force on her shoulders knocking her down.