21st of Matrinalis, 9:38 Dragon
It had been minutes since he had returned to Perivantium and Fenris had already called for a meeting. Jericho had already gathered the rest of the local advisors. The moment he stepped through the door, all eyes were on him.
All in all, Fenris was uncomfortable with the amount of power vested to him.
Settling at the end of the table, he nodded to Jericho.
"What news do you have for me?" he inquired.
Severus, the man in charge of agriculture, was the first to speak up.
"Lightly put, the harvest was rather measly. While we might be able to hold out for a mild winter, we are going to be pinched."
Fenris hummed. "We're lucky to have gotten anything at all, given how late we started."
"The road into Antiva is still unobstructed. We've been blessed with an abundance of relatively fair weather."
"Have we had any more issues with raiders?"
"Nothing we haven't been able to handle so far," Oswald replied. One of the soldiers under Jericho's command, Oswald had been in charge of keeping the fledgling enterprise together. So far, he had lived up to Jericho's recommendation.
"Keep me apprised," Fenris said.
"It's strange," said Jericho, "We haven't seen hide or hair of the magisters since they left. No messengers, no attempts at sabotage."
"They have been remarkably quiet."
Fenris looked at the map of Tevinter laid out over the table. Tokens marked the cities that his people had established contact with. The western side of the country was practically devoid of them."
"How has our expansion been going?" he asked. "Any problems?"
"The story is the same most places we visit. Magisters gone, people left to their own devices. A few of them were like Perivantium. Others are carrying on like Irum, mostly the smaller cities." Fenris contemplated the map's representation of the city in question. "Our reputation appears to be growing. More cities are joining our cause, even of their own volition, before our messengers ever arrive. Neromenian and Vyrantium are now allied with us, a number of minor cities in between have thrown their lot in with ours…"
"But..."
"Marothius is proving to be a tough nut to crack. Last word I heard from our people is that there is some provisional leadership that is slowing the proceedings."
"It has been months since we laid siege,"
"Yes, and despite our efforts, they still hold the city."
Sighing, Fenris ran his hand through his hair. "Keep pressing."
"Have you heard the latest news from the west?" Oswald asked.
"We've actually heard something?" Jericho mused.
"Mostly hearsay, but enough of a trend that I think it explains why we've encountered so little resistance."
"Let's hear it."
"Apparently, one of the magisters incited his own rebellion, nearly the same time as our own. He killed the archon and many of the other magisters, burned them all to a crisp they say. Anyways, he and his followers have been pushing to the west. The Industrialists are taking it by storm."
"The Industrialists?"
"That's what they're calling themselves. The magisters and their allies are being referred to as the Traditionalists."
Eyes settling the west side of the map, Fenris squinted. "We're stretched thin enough as it is. Does he have eyes set towards the east yet?"
"Could hardly tell. I doubt we'll have much forewarning or chance of counter-attack if he does."
"Explain."
"Their leader supposedly granted his followers power to fight mages on equal footing, new weapons that are like the Qunari cannons, but small enough to be wielded by any able bodied person. They gutted Minrathous in a week and despite their initially small numbers, they have taken nearly every major city they have encountered. One city was taken practically overnight."
"Flames," Severus gasped.
"How do we stop that?" someone else whispered.
"You're certain their leader was a magister?" Fenris asked. "What is his name?"
"Braden Miletus," Oswald answered. "He has some other magisters working with him, but I don't know their names."
There was murmuring in the room.
"Let us not get ahead of ourselves," Fenris said, raising a hand. "The harvest season is almost over. I say we finish consolidating our holdings right now. We keep an eye to our borders, but work at living through the winter. How are our present defenses?
"I can at least trust that they can hold out against bandits and raiders," Jericho replied. "but against a well-organized military, I imagine we'll have some difficulty until they've been bloodied some. And speaking of organized militaries, our reports indicate that the Qunari are launching another offensive against the northern shores, but the numbers are somewhat lacking."
"Meaning?" Serverus asked.
"Tevinter has been at war with the Qunari since they first landed on our shores," Fenris answered. "Everyone has been expecting a repeat of their first invasion, but for them to send so few for an attack…"
"It could be that the Traditionalists shifted their focus to Seheron. That's good to know."
"If there's nothing else, this meeting is adjourned."
Stepping back, Fenris watched the others leave the room.
Before the meeting, he had managed to catch a glimpse of Rain in the middle of her tutoring sessions. Rain had made excellent progress with her lessons with Lexus.
Fenris found himself at a loss of what to think. Dealing with mages was something he never envisioned himself doing when he left Danarius. Hawke had done much to change that.
Maker forbid he actually grow attached to a mage.
Standing up straight, he rolled his shoulders back. He did not trust Lexes, regardless of her willingness to join him, there was no telling what she could be up to.
Hannah wove through the streets of Perivantium with a bundle of goods slung over her back. Armed patrols walked around, equipped with a hodgepodge of arms and armor recovered or recently made. They eyed her the same as they did everyone else, not sparing her an extra glance.
She sighed for the nth time that day.
What had begun as traces of resistance had mutated to a full-blown uprising, and the Templar infiltrators had been caught in the middle of it. A mission that should have taken a few weeks at most had been dragged into four months with no end in sight, chasing the rebel leader across the land. Anytime they had gotten close to Fenris, he had moved on to another city.
Perivantium had become the center of his domain. Waiting for him had been for the best. This was the closest they had gotten, and Hannah did not want to waste the opportunity.
Once she was certain no one was watching, she stepped out of the street and into an alleyway. Casting one last look over her shoulder, she slipped into the hideout where she found Kellis and Saldor tying a rambling man to a chair.
"He is a ghost," the prisonor said. "A terror come to slay the unfaithful."
"Who is this?" Hannah asked.
"Some crackpot we found," Saldor replied. "Blathering about our target. Figured you would want to talk to him."
"Does he have any information that would help us?"
"You seek the ghost?" the man asked. Hannah looked at him pointedly. The Ghost-Wolf was the name Fenris had been going by since his rise in the city.
"How do you know him?"
"He swept in, a blaze of blue light. He was among us, but not."
"What can you tell us about Fenris?"
"He leads the people against the magisters, against the ox-men."
"Get rid of him. I doubt he knows anything useful."
"Very well," Saldor replied.
"And after we went through all that trouble getting him," Kellis complained. Hannah ignored the comment as she tossed the bundle to him. "Do you think anyone is still waiting for us?" he asked.
"I can answer that," Mangiene said slipping into the hideout, brushing past Saldor and their former guest.
"I see you returned to us safely," Hannah said. "You say you have word."
"We've been cut loose," she answered. "None of the others are waiting at our rendezvous."
Kellis took inhaled sharply.
"We can still keep going," Hannah replied.
"Why? He's surrounded by an army, and he hasn't made any moves that would indicate his attentions moving outside of Tevinter. And if we're all being perfectly honest, I think we should be more concerned about this Braden fellow."
"The renegade magister?" Kellis asked, to which Mangiene nodded.
"And there is still the matter of the war we should be fighting."
Hannah rubbed her fingers along her temples. It had been a long time since she had been at such a loss. Standing up, she addressed her fellows.
"We came here to hunt down one of the ones responsible for the war. There is no telling what he will do once he's built himself a nation. For all we know, the rest are building Hawke an army."
"I need some air to think while I plan our next course of action."
Hannah climbed the battered staircase to the top floor of the building they had made their temporary home. No one else lived there, as most of the structure had been burned. While it offered a level of security and anonymity, it made any sound suspicious. For instance, the sound of someone suddenly talking to her.
"Well, well, what have we here?"
Standing stock-straight, Hannah turned to look at the figure addressing her.
She had an odd presence around her, tightly woven, but pulsing outward like a heartbeat. Gold eyes stared out from under the hood of her cloak, a blandly colored, ratty looking thing that reminded Hannah of the stories involving old hags, but from what she could tell, the woman addressing her was neither old nor a hag. It was then that Hannah recognized the feeling she had.
"You're the one who has been following us," Hannah concluded.
The woman quietly laughed. "Smart girl," the woman said. "Perhaps there is hope for you."
"What do you want?" Hannah asked.
"What indeed."
Resting her hand on her dagger, Hannah fixed her guest with a glare. "I have no time for games."
"Yes, always so dedicated to work. But if you wish to cut the chase short, the man you seek is not your true enemy. I would advise making peace with him."
"What do you mean? Explain yourself!"
"I've already conveyed my message, and I typically refrain from doing any more than leaving mildly cryptic warnings. And while normally I would enjoy talking your ear off if given half the opportunity, time is short."
Without another word, she turned and walked away, the sway of her hips accented by the sound of shifting armor.
"Hannah?"
Whipping around, Hannah resisted the urge to reach for her sword. Saldor looked at her worriedly. When she looked back, the woman was gone.
"How…?" Hannah breathed.
"What is it?" Saldor asked.
"Did you see someone talking to me?"
"No. Why?"
Reeling in her thoughts, she gathered herself up and walked past the other Templar.
"It was nothing," Hannah answered.
General Corinthus watched the battle lines from afar. Craters speckles the beaches of the northern point of Tevinter. In the distance, flashes of light lit up the clouds of fog that clung the coastline, even in the height of daylight, the signs of cannon fire that heralded another barrage that struck the battlements. Soldiers zipped around him, moving ammunition to the batteries overlooking the coastline as they responded in kind. The battle-mages and mortars alike took to hit-and-run tactics, never staying in one place long enough for the enemy to zero in on them.
"What's the situation, general?" Braden asked. The old general nearly fell backwards at the man's sudden appearance.
How does he do that? He wondered, but quickly remembered himself. "Sir, the ox-men moved in overnight, wiping out the Traditionalist garrison before dawn. While they were settling in, I moved our troops in to catch them off balance with mixed success. They've taken to their ships, bombarding the fortress while moving more of their forces up the coast. We've shored up our defenses along the main breaches, but we're taking a pounding from their guns."
Idly wandering to the overlook, he squinted and frowned slightly. "You've erected barriers, yes?"
"Of course, sir. However, repeated and extended incursions have forced us to minimize exposing them for long periods of time, not to mention that we've suffered our share of carnage from their attacks."
Braden stared out over the battlements and the waters beyond. "Hm…very well." Braden spun on his toes and stalked off. "Another battalion will be here shortly
"Are you not going to partake in the battle?"
Braden slowed himself, looking over his shoulder with an enigmatic smirk.
"There are times when I need to intervene, and times when others have to show their own strengths and win their spurs." Resuming his course, he continued out. "This is a time to show that the New Tevinter, not Braden Miletus, is a foe worthy of being feared."
Once out of sight, the former magister quietly chuckled to himself.
A/N: I know I haven't made much progress on this story lately, this is still the primary story.
Also, I do believe this story is longer than Embers, even without the notes.