Chapter Thirty-Six: Appomattox
On Earth, many countries had revolutions, uprisings of the people to undo systems of government or economy that they felt were not in their favour. For the most part, they're viewed either with disdain or admiration, but everyone has a revolution or a set of revolutions they admire, even if they hate others.
The act of saying "enough is enough" and throwing off the chains around you is considered to be a noble one, at least until the bloodshed starts and oftentimes afterwards too. On Thedas too, even before my arrival, tales of rebellions against oppression are the very basis for many societies. Andraste against Tevinter, Ferelden against Orlais, the Free Marches against the Qunari, there are no shortage of such stories here.
What most popular readings will not tell you is that most revolutions fail.
Some succeed in overthrowing their declared enemy, but go on to set up governments that are just as bad or worse. Others fail because of the intervention of foreign powers, looking out for their own interests. Still others fail because their leaders were incompetent or egotistical.
The great majority fail for a much more simple reason: the government they oppose has a stronger army. Sometimes, even the revolutionaries realise this, and decide that maybe rising up wasn't such a good idea.
Yet naked force is the great and final arbiter of all disputes, and if I might quote Heinlein, people who forget that fact pay with their lives and liberty. Today, every weapon of the Peacekeepers is inscribed with the words "Ultima Ratio Populum," from the Ancient Tevene meaning "the final argument of peoples".
What happened after the Battle of Vindargent is why our weapons bear that inscription.
My brain resumed regular service as if nothing had happened.
I awoke with a light shining in my face, rising from my back, fists swinging in a feeble attempt to catch the woman who had sent me out cold. Instead, I caught nothing but air. I was thrown off balance, to the extent that I had the wind knocked out of me, and I almost fell off the bed I had apparently been laying on.
My vision blurry, I settled down, blinking away the fugue. A dull pain complained from my shoulder, my wound not quite healed. It helped clear my sight, and I found myself in a familiar place.
I was inside the chantry on Hearth's central plaza, on the raised dais where the Grand-Cleric usually led the chant from. The smell of incense was the first clue. The clerics' chairs were notable in that they were missing. Bright, coloured sunlight poured in from the stained glass windows.
No wonder I had woken, I had just been dazzled. By contrast, the entire dais had been cut off from sight of both the roof and the rest of the chantry by what looked like grey woollen blankets, hanging from ropes slung to the walls. There was bustle from outside my enclosure echoing through the fabric, but I couldn't make out anything coherent. I was inside a disco tent, I thought, my head still not quite on straight.
What the hell I was doing there, I had no clue. Did everyone think I was dead? Was I lying in state before they burned my body? How long had I been out?
A sharp cough thundered from behind me. I jumped out of my skin, climbing off the bed.
Seated in a shaded corner was Markham, a book in one hand and a small wooden pipe in the other. What I had smelled wasn't just incense, but flavoured leaf smoke. He just staring at me over the top of gold rimmed glasses, puffing away. Grim as ever. That provoked the childish side of me a little, though probably as a defence mechanism against the possibility of the worst news.
"Smoking is bad for you, you know?" I joked half-heartedly, "You should quit."
Markham pulled the pipe out of his mouth and frowned. "You ought to quit waking up suddenly despite being heavily sedated."
"Why is that?" I asked.
The healer pointed at my lower body. In confusion, I looked down. I was entirely naked.
"Yeah, maybe we're both right," I conceded with a smile, finding fresh clothes folded at the end of the bed, "What happened to me?"
"If Armen Cartier is correct, you were attacked by the Harlequins," Markham said, "Orlesian special forces. One of them stuck you with this."
He lifted the dagger off a small table out of sight, and up in front of him.
"Coated with poison," the healer sighed, "Lucky for you, most of the poison ended up on the side of your jacket rather than in your blood."
"So I was never in danger?" I asked, dressing myself.
"I wouldn't say that," Markham replied, "Had I been able to use magic, you would have recovered in less than a day. As it stood, you could have died at any time. I put you to sleep to maximise the chances that you would recover and applied the antidote without magical aid."
I nodded. It made sense, but there was something that sent an arrow through my heart. Time. Fully dressed, in clean Earth fatigues no less, I rushed over to Markham and took him by the shoulder.
"How long have I been out?"
"Thirteen days," Markham said.
"Thirteen days?!" I repeated loudly, "Jesus Christ!"
I stood back again, running my hand through my hair. Which badly needed a cut. A quick check of my chin confirmed I needed a shave too. Strange what you distract yourself with at times like these.
"Are we still in this war?" I asked, "Or are we just hanging on?"
The booming of cannon in the distance ran through the Chantry, a drumbeat of deep sonic movements, muffled but clearly recognisable.
"We fight still," Markham said as he stood up, "But we are surrounded."
"What about everyone else?" I continued, "Are Julie and Tam safe?"
The healer scoffed, as he bent down by the bed.
"The High-Chancellor and her mistress are both in perfect health, physically," he said, as he rummaged, "But I had to order them from this chamber, for their own soundness of mind."
I can only imagine what my lovers had gone through. They had responsibilities that they couldn't ignore, but aside from that, Markham had undoubtedly done the right thing for them personally too. Julie's method of grieving was something I had already seen. She got sad, until she figured out how to get even. Tam on the other hand was a mystery in that regard, but I can't see how her hanging around my sleeping self would have been helpful.
"Good," I said, "You did them a favour there."
Markham pulled the metal box from under the bed, and flipped the lid. It was my equipment.
"I know," he said, "Your weapons and armour. I suggest you get moving."
I recoiled a little in surprise. "Shouldn't I take it easy?"
"I see you're a master of alchemy now, adding to your repertoire as one of war," Markham said, all sarcasm, "If you're awake and walking around, you're fine. We could spend time talking about the exact reasons why you are, but I doubt the High-Chancellor would forgive me for holding you. Just drink plenty of water."
Satisfied with his speech, he held out my blue beret. "They're at the south gate," he added, finally.
Trusting the healer's expertise, I took the beret and donned it. After putting on the Kevlar and weapons, I tucked my helmet under my arm and exited the 'tent' into the rest of the Chantry proper. Markham followed.
The space had been converted for use as an aid station. Markham's juniors were going about, seeing to the wounded as they lay in rows of wood-and-cloth cots. More woollen blankets acted as dividers in some places, but for the most part it was open as usual. There didn't seem to be blood on the floor, but it was in the air. I stopped dead. These were my men and women.
Eyes turned to me, and the bustle of the huge cathedral began to pause, spreading out from where I was standing. Sisters acting as nurses stopped dead, mages stood up from their patients, patients craned their necks to see what was going on.
"He's alive," a man said loudly, spreading the effect to the entire room.
I was struck dumb. This wasn't the kind of attention I wanted at that moment. I just wanted to see Tam and Julie. Everything else could happen afterwards. Lacking the ability to teleport however, I held my head high and walked out. A quick tip for all would-be officers out there reading this; when in doubt, lead by example. I took a gulp of air, and acted.
I walked out through the stares, the bows and the kneeling supplicants with as much assurance as I could muster, firelance propped up on my hip. Exuding confidence is a good way to inspire it in others. The stares quickly turned to chatter; excited chatter. The doors of the Chantry opened, and I quietly released the breath I was holding.
Despair, it seemed, could be fought off.
The streets were full of people, moving about to complete tasks with buckets or carts. I had never seen Hearth so full, but I put it down to the fact that the army and all those who lived outside the walls were now within them. The town was entirely capable of supporting them of course.
Our war had been unusual in that the great majority of our action wasn't siege work, but every town was designed to hold far more than its usual population as well as to provide food and water for the same. And Gaspard didn't have cannon.
Bellona seemed very pleased to see me, neighing once loudly as I approached, moving to rub her neck against me. Being cooped up wasn't her idea of fun either. I felt buoyed, light enough to face what was to come.
I rode out of the central square, which had become a giant stable and smelled like one. No one took notice of me until I was on the main road south, at which point came a startling reaction. Cheers followed me as Bellona trotted along, those on the way parting to let me pass.
Soldiers saluted, citizens bowed or ran their hands along the side of my horse, children squealed. Hope flared in their eyes, regardless of their station, which in turn stoked my own. Carried by that feeling, I reached the South Gate with a throng of followers. Straight into a gathering of the Peacekeepers. Parade ranks broke immediately, joining the celebration, chanting my name from the street and from the wall.
"Hunt, Hunt, Hunt, Hunt!"
A spontaneous, riotous celebration that I was alive.
A lump in my throat grew, and I had to try very hard to keep down actual tears of joy. I was overwhelmed with feeling. Very unmanly. Yet it happened. I had done many things, but I did not and do not believe I deserved such a reception. Yet it happened.
I dismounted, but the crowds picked me up and placed me on the shoulders of the largest men, whom I recognised as four of McNulty's guys. They bore me forwards into the shade of the walls, and towards a set of tents that had been put up to house the army on the peripheral road. Towards one tent in particular, bearing silver hallas on its four supports and the Stars and Stripes on its sides.
As I was put back on my feet again, the crowd cleared, creating a space.
Everyone went quiet, their eyes turning to the small group in front of me.
Armen, Ciara, Leha, my officers, even Tiberius... they all looked like they were seeing a ghost. Admittedly, the magister looked a whole lot more damned relieved than shocked, but the rest simply stared like they couldn't believe it. Considering I was in rude health all of a sudden, I found it difficult to fault them.
Julie and Tam, both dressed for battle, stopped dead. The crowd went dead quiet. They had expectations. Which put pressure on my shoulders. I had to say … something.
"So..." I began, looking around, "What did I miss?"
A splutter of amusement erupted from Julie, before she started rapidly blinking tears. She wiped them away with the back of her wrist. My gut wrenching with guilt, I took a step forward, moving to embrace her.
I was intercepted by Tam.
A forceful slap lashed against my cheek, making my eyes water for a different reason entirely to joy or sorrow. Even my jaw buzzed with agony for a moment. Worse, I found Tam staring down at me, not with anger but with disappointment. A truly terrifying sight for anyone, something that Tam had been trained to do... perhaps even bred to do; to admonish those who had failed.
The crowd murmured a general exclamation of sympathy. That definitely hurt, they were thinking. They were right.
"That was for leaving us," Tam declared, loudly enough so that the entire congregation could hear.
I nodded. The slap was something I did in fact deserve.
"You could have died," she continued, "And you would have been safe if I had been there." Very true. We had a plan for attempted assassinations, as Tallis had found out. I gulped down a response. There was nothing to say.
Julie came by and lay her hand on Tam's arm, looking up with big, green, tear-filled eyes. It was enough, being the message.
Tam looked back for a moment, and sighed. "This is for coming back to us." She drew me gently towards her, and kissed me softly on the lips, lingering a while. When she withdrew, she was smiling again, the warm kind she reserved for her lovers and her pupils alone. And I felt better again.
Julie ran over and hugged me tight, planting smaller kisses all over my face, before squeezing me as tight as she could. Which knocked the wind out of me, because she had no shortage of strength. I rubbed her head and squeezed back, as she sobbed into my shoulder. After all she had lost, it was a huge deal for someone important to her to step out of their grave rather than into one.
The sight of all this had the crowd cheering again, which got Julie laughing and waving to the mobs through her tears. The cheering grew louder, and was joined with clapping.
My officers waded in to try and restore some semblance of order; the town was under siege after all. The crowd began to disperse, the civilians back further into town, the troops back into parade formation. Tiberius disappeared, for reasons I can guess now but had no idea about then. Armen, Ciara and Leha joined us, greeting me with incredulous smiles. The whole event was curious to me, so I had to ask.
"Why is everyone else so happy to see me?" I asked, tilting my head at the crowds.
Leha barked a laugh. "So, the healer didn't tell you," she said, as if she expected nothing less, "You're the god of war now."
"What?" I said.
"While you were busy getting stabbed," Armen added, "We were busy running off the chevaliers."
"You won," Ciara said, "Won big."
I glanced around the group, like they had suddenly sprung two heads a piece.
Vindargent had been nothing less than a complete victory for us. I only learned the exact details later, but we had caused more than fifteen thousand casualties to Gaspard's army, and chased it off the field. Soprano had taken command after word had come that I had been wounded, and the troops' blood was up. A final charge utterly routed the enemy.
"If that's true, why are we here?" I asked.
"Duval," Tam growled. That in itself said much, but not enough.
"What has he done?" I asked.
"Refused to stand and fight," Julie replied, "When we blocked his way, he sent half his army around ours. When we chased him, he ran away and found alternative routes."
"We sent out everything we had to try and stop that, but he kept getting reinforcements, so we couldn't stop him," Leha said, "But he hasn't been able to breach our defences. We destroyed his siege equipment with our cannon as soon as they put them up. All the poor bastards have left are ladders." Which would have been a death sentence to everyone trying to use them.
My mind raced. Were we winning or were we losing? It seemed impossible to tell. Hearth stood, and didn't look like it would fall. Henri Clouet, whom I had sent to gather troops from the south, was probably safe too. Halamshiral could withstand Celene's siege for years, if need-be, I thought. We might have failed to tip the domino of Lydes, but there was no reason to believe we couldn't topple the enemies before us. Yet there was no reason to believe it was a certainty, or that it would happen soon either.
These uncertainties troubled me for a moment, before my quiet thinking was interrupted.
"Gaspard wants to talk," Julie said, "To negotiate terms."
Which explained why all the Peacekeepers were by the south gate. My eyes widened.
"Really?" I asked, "Why?"
"Celene is nearing Halamshiral," Armen said, "Perhaps he wishes to ally with us. He hasn't mistreated anyone that we know of, perhaps this was his plan all along?"
"Back us into a corner then offer us a hand?" I thought aloud, "Sounds like Duval."
"Gaspard relies on him," Julie said, "It was Duval who delivered the offer of negotiation. Ciara and I are going out in an hour." She laid her head against me again.
Alone? That sounded like the worst sort of trap to me. Irrationally so, of course. Gaspard wasn't likely to try anything under the gaze of our cannon. Didn't change a thing. Not to mention that the idea
"I'm coming," I said firmly.
Julie smirked, and released me from her embrace at last.
"Of course you are," she said, with mock weariness.
How confident we were...
Julie's family home, or the courtyard to be exact, was to be the site of the parley. Now empty of Markham's patients much like the rest of the Smith quarter was empty of people. We went out of the gates a good bit earlier than we needed to, to scope the place out. Now that I was aware of the Harlequins' existence, I had little appetite for taking chances.
And a huge appetite in the real sense of the word. When Julie, Ciara and I departed, I brought a large cut of pork, some bread, and the cooking utensils. I don't know what the hell they had been feeding me via the tube they had to stick down my throat daily while I was unconscious, something I had to see done to others a few times over the years, but I was very hungry. Ravenous.
So the unusual scene of me cooking bacon in a pan in the courtyard came to be. I whistled, moving the meat about in the pan as it heated above an open fire, not a care in the world. My companions were not so calm.
Julie paced around the cobblestones. Ciara fidgeted beside me, at least until I gave her a bacon sandwich. That settled matters for a bit. But not long. By the time I had another sub ready, the pacing and fidgeting had resumed.
"They're late," Julie said, "They're the ones who called this. I am tempted to go back inside."
"We're the ones under siege," I said, beginning to eat myself. My mouth watered with each bite. It was absolutely delicious. A first meal after waking up from almost dying is always utterly divine. Plus bacon makes everything better, including my growing trepidation over what Gaspard wanted. That's what none of us dared voice an opinion about.
And that's how it went, each of us distracting ourselves in our own way, a feeling of fate on our shoulders. Problem was that our mutual methods cancelled each other out, and we ended up distracting each other instead. Exasperated, I decided the silence wasn't going to work.
"What happened to the assassin?" I asked, "The one who almost got me."
Julie and Ciara immediately stopped their .. activities and turned to me.
"Why do you care?" Julie said, a little too quickly. I paused lifting the next bite of my sandwich to my face, realising I had just struck a nerve. Somehow.
"I didn't get the chance to stop her," I replied, "I was just wondering... why are you upset?"
Julie turned away and crossed her arms, her eyes closed and her head hung slightly. Was it embarrassment or anger? I couldn't figure out which, exactly.
Our other companion cleared her throat. "She wanted to execute the assassin for attempted murder," Ciara said, "She was... angry."
"The bitch tried to stab him, and almost succeeded in poisoning him!" Julie snapped, "And when we got a hold of her, she was smiling like a cat! I should have shot her myself!"
Now that she had gotten sadness out of the way, fury was what was left. Another crime for Julie to avenge, on top of all the other crimes that the royalists had gotten away with. Her father had been taken by war before I had ever arrived. Her sister had been taken by other assassins' blades. Her other sister, her niece and her nephew had been taken from her by the fear of the same blades. By all rights, everything I knew about my lover said that the blue-eyed killer clown ought to be very dead.
"Why didn't you?" I asked, "Seems like an open and shut case... we have killed for far less." And for far more.
"She's a cousin of Louise de Villars," Julie replied venomously, "A dear cousin."
"Which is why she's locked up with Tallis in the keep," Ciara added, "Instead of splattered against a wall somewhere."
"Not in the dungeon," Julie said with a sharp wave of the hand, "In the guest quarters."
My eyebrow cocked upwards at that. The thought of my would-be end walking around more or less in comfort and safety, possibly freely enough to give killing me another shot, that was not comforting. The beard I had grown while I slept itched, and I rubbed it as I thought the problem over.
"Perhaps I should do something about that," I said.
"Colonel de Villars has assured us that the assassin has cooperated," said Julie, sitting down beside us, "The only reason we got everything out of our home in time was because of information the woman gave up. Or so de Villars said."
"Leave it be," Ciara soothed, "This war might be over soon."
That was a little too fatalistic for me. "What makes you say that?" I asked.
"They're coming," Ciara said, ignoring the question.
Both Julie and I fell silent, moving our heads to listen. The sound of boots with spurs on stone began ringing out, louder and louder. Reminded me of old Westerns. I sighed, stuffed the last of my bacon sandwich in my mouth, and signalled to the troops on the walls some hundred yards behind us to hold their fire. Probably wise, they had already been lining up the shots.
A swig of water later, and the two expected figures showed up with a third uninvited guest.
Gaspard de Chalons appeared to me to be a truly formidable character. He was as tall as I was, broad shouldered, and he walked with ease of certainty in his superiority, his head held high. His dull green half-mask was shaped like a helmet, with wings of a bird of prey stretching down its sides like cheek-guards, the head of the bird plated with gold on his forehead, flanked with diamonds. The hints of a large moustache poked out from underneath the mask. He had a small neck ruffle, but aside from these things, there wasn't much ornamental about him. He was dressed in well made but plain clothing, over which he had excellently designed but plain plates of armour. To protect him from the fall chill, he had an animal skin cloak. He was unarmed.
The man who would be Emperor indeed.
Duval was dressed essentially the same way he had been when we had first met; blue mask, chainmail with his family crest emblazoned over it on a tabard, the Lion of Chalons on his upper right arm. Contrary to his liege-lord, he was armed to the teeth. Two swords, one sabre and one longsword, the traditional armament of a chevalier. In addition, two daggers, one on his hip, another by his boot. Lastly, a small round shield, held in his left hand. A man ready for a betrayal, but not the person Gaspard would have relied upon if we had decided to play the assassination game ourselves.
Her outline frayed in my sight, but very clearly visible, Lienne de Montsimmard hovered behind the two men, glowing staff held across her red dress in both hands. Her mask was gone, revealing dark hair and the well-kept features of a noble's daughter, but killing intent poured off of her eyes like flames. I knew from Julie's complete lack of reaction that there was no way anyone else could see the sorceress. In fact, if my lover could have seen the hovering mage, she probably would have opened fire with the short firelance slung over her shoulder.
Wishing to keep the peace of the truce intact, I said nothing.
Julie stepped forward to greet the two people she could see, slipping on the metaphorical mask of a politician with complete ease. The mask she often hid behind in public. It was time for the two leaders, the two real leaders, to speak.
"Welcome to Hearth," she said graciously, "I am Julie Hunt, Marquise de la Fayette, High-Chancellor of Free Orlais." She curtsied, which in an Earth uniform looked a bit funny, but the other side seemed to accept it.
"Gaspard de Chalons, rightful Emperor of Orlais," replied the Grand-Duke, "All of it." He bowed low from the waist, right foot forward, arm extended.
Julie could not help but smile at that, like the notion amused her. Gaspard returned it, no doubt thinking the same. I rolled my eyes. The Game, what a load of bullshit.
The 'Emperor' looked around the courtyard, at the buildings and the space in general. He grimaced, like he had seen something he had been expecting.
"It is my understanding that you lived here," he said, "Before you rose to your current station."
"I was born here," Julie corrected, "I am living proof that any Orlesian can rise to the very highest position, through their own genius."
"If only that were true," Gaspard mused, "Without your husband, you would have remained a blacksmith... or perhaps would have ended up executed as a traitor."
Or imprisoned as a tax dodger, for that matter... but she was quick on the draw to respond.
"Without your father, you would have been born a commoner," Julie replied dryly, "Or perhaps, you would have been born a girl."
Gaspard erupted with laughter, hands on his hips. He had tested Julie, seeing how sensitive she was on the subject of her origins and her luck. She had passed. "I knew I would like you," he said. His green mask swivelled in my direction.
"What about you?" he asked me, "It is said you are not of this world, Peacekeeper. How do you find life here?"
"I would appreciate it a whole lot more if I didn't have to kill to stay alive in it," I replied flatly, "But the people I have met have made every moment worth it."
Gaspard inclined his head. Perhaps he had expected a more interesting response. After all, I was an alien being where Thedas was concerned.
"And you?" Gaspard asked Ciara, "You fight for the rebellion to free your people, do you not?"
"I am Dalish," Ciara replied, "My people are free already. I fight for everyone else's freedom." Gaspard hummed his approval of that.
"Sire, perhaps we should address the matter at hand," Duval said, with appropriate deference.
"Time is not completely of the essence," Gaspard conceded, "But very well."
Julie nodded, and indicated for the 'Emperor' to sit opposite her. The two seated themselves in the thin kitchen chairs, the only ones available and ones thoroughly too cheap for the occasion. The wood creaked, and we all crowded to either side of our own leaders.
I looked directly at Lienne de Montsimmard in the process. The invisible witch beamed a wicked smile back at me. She knew I could see her. It stuck me that she probably couldn't maintain the spell indefinitely, hence Duval's haste.
Julie began, in the way taught to her by Grand-Cleric Brandon.
"Under the eyes of the Maker, you are the initiating party," she said, hand extended, "Would you like to begin?"
"Certainly," Gaspard replied, "Despite your great valour and skill in battle, as well as the losses you have inflicted upon my armies, we sit here beneath the walls of your true capital. You have lost. I am obligated by the chevalier code to offer you the chance to capitulate or to transfer the burden of continuing this conflict from my shoulders onto yours."
"We offer terms to preserve the lives of your soldiers and your followers," Duval said.
Julie gave me a warning glance. Something was wrong. I felt it too. They were far too confident. They were speaking as if the fight was over already. It wasn't, not by a long shot. Gaspard could throw his whole force at our walls, and we could beat them back with ease. Halamshiral wasn't going to fall to Celene any time soon either, we had seen to that.
"I'm sorry, you seem to be under the impression that you're winning," Julie replied, "You might have driven us back, but we've also bled you dry."
"Celene may take the entire north while you sit here through the winter," I added, "There is still time for us to come to some arrangement." Not that we'd actually accept an arrangement, we just needed to know what Gaspard's real aims were. Even an agreement he intended to break later would have provided insight.
Gaspard de Chalons was a ruthless son of a bitch, however.
"Marshal Duval," he said, not taking his eyes off of us, "Explain the realities to these rebels."
Duval bowed slightly. "Certainly, sire," he said, before looking directly at me, "Marquis, we have ten thousand prisoners from Lydes. If you refuse to hear our terms, they will be executed."
"Execute them, and we'll never come to terms," I snarled, "And I'll come hunting for you personally."
Duval ignored my anger. "We have no intention of assaulting your walls," he continued, "But I must ask, are the rest of your followers so well protected? Many hide in Halamshiral, it is true, but most do not have the luxury of stone and fire to shield them from our wrath."
I opened my mouth to speak. Nothing came out. I was struck dumb by my anger and fear. The implication had not even been put on the table, yet I knew exactly what he was threatening.
"We will bottle your forces up here, where they cannot interfere," Duval stated, void of emotion, "Our armies will sweep across the land. Any person they encounter shall be treated as a traitor, to suffer summary justice at the hands of our soldiers. The Crown's protections against pillage, rapine, arson, and murder will be lifted."
They would kill the men and boys, rape the women and girls, burn every village in every area that had pledged itself to our cause. All to assure our defeat. It was a brutal plan, but it would have been extremely effective in destroying our ability to wage war. Everything we built would go down in an orgy of violence. My teeth chattered with impotent rage. I would not let it happen.
I couldn't help myself. My hand jerked to my firelance, swinging it off my shoulder and into my grasp.
Duval drew his longsword and stepped in front of his lord. Lienne materialised, landing beside him, staff at the ready. I levelled my weapon at the mage, the largest threat. The sound of doors slamming open against the walls of the former smithy behind me surprised me, but when Tam, Leha and Armen drew up alongside me seconds later, I regained my focus.
Only Julie and Gaspard seemed to be still.
"Drop the staff, mage," I growled. Duval wasn't even a real threat.
"I don't need it to kill your whores," Lienne growled back, "Or your chained dog."
Armen's staff sparked brightly. He was no one's chained dog, and I was glad he expressed himself on that in the most menacing manner possible. We were at an impasse. I was seconds from pulling the trigger regardless. The more I thought about chevaliers going village to village, house to house, the less in control I was.
"Thought you might need help," he said under his breath to me, "Tam had us sneak out."
I nodded, not looking at him.
"Enough," Gaspard said, "What the Marshal describes is not what will happen."
"You seem very confident I will accept your terms," Julie replied.
"It is not your decision to make, High-Chancellor," Gaspard replied, "By your own laws, you must refer my terms to your assembly. If you are not exactly the sort of tyrant which you claim I am."
My heart began to beat like a drum, slowly but loudly. I saw the Grand-Duke's game at last. He was going to use the threat he had just made to force us to surrender on his terms. There was no way they'd vote to see their homes and families put to the torch and sword. I gripped my firelance tight, helpless. If I killed them now, the absent Remache would order the scourging of the Hearthlands himself.
"Our assembly won't look kindly upon threats," Julie lied smoothly, "But you are right, it is my duty to bring your terms to them. State your intent."
Gaspard turned his head to Duval and tilted it towards us. The marshal hesitated, looking between us and his lord, but gave in. He sheathed his sword, and produced a large piece of paper, the Chalons seal at the top of it.
Duval began to speak. Each sentence, a blow.
"In return for their lives and liberty, all rebels active in the regions of the Hearthlands, the Emprise du Lion, and the Emerald Graves shall cease hostilities."
"The political entities known as Free Orlais and the Viceroyalty of the Dales shall be dissolved."
"All sigils, banners, and ceremonial flagheads not belonging to the 'Free Army' shall be surrendered."
"All 'National Guard' militia are to surrender their arms and return to their homes."
"The formula for explosive black powder will be written down and presented to the Royal Army."
"The Circle of Magi at Hearth shall be formally dissolved."
"All nobles pledging themselves to Free Orlais shall be stripped of their titles."
"All means of printing shall be presented to the Royal Army and destroyed."
"All copies of Le Sens Commun and other similar documents shall be burned."
Although my feet remained rooted to the ground and I was upright, I felt like I was falling. I couldn't understand how it was possible that we in such a position. How I had been so blind.
"You can't be serious!" I blurted out, "How could we possibly live under such conditions? Even if you abided by them, what's to stop Celene from coming down here and hanging us all as traitors?"
Duval looked at me over the parchment with eyes of pity, but didn't reply. I felt anger bubble up inside me again. I didn't want his pity.
"I have to agree," Julie said warily, "I for one have no intention of living under you or Celene's direct rule ever again." If anything, she would have accepted autonomy for the Dales. If only to build our forces even more strongly to try again.
"Undoubtedly, but you cannot speak for all," Gaspard agreed, "And Marshal Duval has not stated the most important part of our terms yet, the one essential to keep your lives and liberty in your own hands."
A wave of the hand indicated to Duval that he was to continue, but the man stared at his liege-lord for a more solid confirmation.
"Get on with it," Gaspard sighed.
"As you will, sire," Duval said, before clearing his throat. He was stalling.
"The soldiers of the Free Army including that part called the Peacekeepers, their families, and all residents of the town of Hearth are hereby exiled from the Empire of Orlais in perpetuity.
They shall gather their arms, equipment, victuals and banners, and proceed to Ferelden by the fastest method possible. Should they be found remaining on Orlesian soil after First Day of 9:40, all terms regarding the lives and liberty of rebels and their families in the Dales shall be rescinded."
Duval folded the paper carefully, too carefully, and handed it to Julie.
Feeling like I had been struck by lightning, I lowered my weapon in shock. Everyone else did too, Tam and the others in shock, Lienne in response to us. Julie stood up, on shaky legs.
After having lost my home and having won Hearth, I was to lose that too. I had lost Hearth for those who had been born there and those who had come seeking a better life for themselves. Yet I was powerless to resist.
The Army might back me, maybe, but there was no way that the Assembly would vote against such a deal. They were commoners with no castles to run and hide in, their families exposed to attack. Those in the western towns and villages had already moved east, but they could not outrun armies, especially not without warning.
"This shem is insane," Ciara said, incredulous, "Or am I in a nightmare?"
"It seemed real to me," Tam replied weakly.
"I assure you, I am in deadly earnest," Gaspard stated sternly, "You are no longer welcome here. You declared war on your own realm. You are traitors. And I will not have traitors live in Orlais. Leave or perish."
"You are exiling us to Ferelden?" Julie said, "You know that we will be attacked if we are forced there. They hate Orlesians."
"You are no longer Orlesian, and this is the most generous offer I could possibly make," Gaspard said, "Leave and fight for your lives elsewhere, or stay and watch me burn everything you love to ashes."
"What about Halamshiral?" I asked, "Does your deal extend to the people living there?"
"No, it does not," Gaspard said, "Halamshiral was a pot ready to boil over long before Madame Marteau started writing seditious pamphlets. It must be brought under control, once and for all."
"Except you won't be the one doing the controlling, making you look just weak enough to dismiss," Leha said, shaking her head, "You want to use Halamshiral to distract Celene so you can ambush her, and you want to use us to weaken Ferelden so you can march in to restore order."
"It appears there is no end to your ambition," Armen added, "Emperor."
"That is not your concern," Gaspard said, a picture of calm, "You will take the terms to your assembly. I expect an answer at sunset."
"That's not nearly enough time!" I shouted. He was trying to get us to rush the decision, hoping that would increase the tension of his threat.
"The choice is obvious," Gaspard replied, "No great amount of time is required to choose the obvious path." The patronising tone said all about whether or not we could get more time to discuss the terms, or if we could negotiate on them.
The Grand-Duke rose from his seat, and bowed once more in the same way he had when he had introduced himself. He walked back out into the street, Duval following close and Lienne lingering a moment to rub it in. The trio turned the corner and disappeared.
All of us fell to our asses, either into chairs or onto the ground. We were within sight of our soldiers on the walls, I remember thinking, they must think we are under some sort of spell. I put my hands over my face, and contained myself. The toxic mixture of fear and hate was making me dizzy. I hadn't ever hated someone as much as I had hated Gaspard de Chalons in that moment, nor feared anything as much as having the souls of every person who believed in the ideals from my world on my conscience.
"By the Stone, what do we do now?" Leha asked.
"There isn't anything we can do," Tam said.
"We have to take it to the Assembly," Julie confirmed, "The son of a bitch was right about that."
"They'll take the deal," I said, "You know that, right?"
"I'm not even sure I could turn it down myself," Julie said, rubbing her eyes with a thumb and forefinger, "If the decision was mine alone."
"How did we not see this coming?" Armen asked. It was a good question, and the answer to me had a clarity to it that eluded me previously.
"We thought Gaspard would play by our rules," I replied, "And for a while, he did." To be more accurate, I thought he would play by my rules. Civilised, Earthling rules. Because he wasn't a religious fanatic in a balaclava, waving black flags and burning people, I had assumed him to be a civilised person. I was wrong. He was a savage primitive, just like the rest of the rulers of Thedas' realms. Albeit one with more style and honour than some others.
"If we had won at Lydes..." Julie began.
"Don't," Tam interrupted, "We cannot change the past. Do not ask what if." She wouldn't watch us torture ourselves, particularly when we had a duty to perform. One of the many reasons why I loved her.
Julie raised herself off the chair, and stared at the main house. Her house. Where she had been born, where she had been raised, where she had first learn to swing a hammer, where she had learned to read and write.
"I can't believe we lost," she whispered.
A cold wind sliced through the courtyard, sending shivers down my spine. It was as good a signal as any to get the hell back inside the walls.
"Come," I said to the group, "Let's get it over with."
Whether or not we truly lost, in light of events both in Orlais and elsewhere in the years following, is a matter for debate. Both Julie and Tam both believe with the totality of their hearts that it was fate, rather than punishment for any hubris on our part. But it certainly felt like a comprehensive, total defeat as we lived through it.
Needless to say, the inevitable happened.
The National Assembly voted strongly to accept the offered terms of surrender. The peasants and merchants of the Libertarian and Aequitarian factions voted almost to a man in favour. They were all willing to risk Gaspard going back on his word rather than face the certainty of a campaign of destruction against their homes and families.
The nobles, or what was left of them after the Day of the Long Knives, split down the middle. Some vowed to join up with Henri Clouet in the south and fight for their titles and rights. Others decided they would join the Free Army in exile, Louise de Villars leading that party. My other officers were much more adamant to fight on, but once the decision had been made, they accepted it, as their oaths bound them to.
Gaspard had been right. It didn't take long to choose the obvious path.
By sunset, we had began preparations to leave. As promised the Grand-Duke, Duval, Remache and a brace of other high nobles were waiting just outside of our firelances' range on horseback.
The whole forest was lit up a bright red, the cloud cover having cleared in the intervening hours. It was ominous as hell a sight. The gates of Hearth swung open and I rode out alone, bags slung across the saddle. Unarmed, without armour, wearing nothing but my uniform and my beret, my gut and chest screaming with unease.
Suppressing nausea, I came before Gaspard and stopped. He was smiling to himself. He knew already.
"On behalf of Free Orlais, I, Samuel Hunt, Viceroy of the Dales..." I began, before my throat closed with the shame. I forced a hard gulp of air down to clear my airways. I couldn't say it yet.
I grabbed the bags hanging off my saddle, and one by one, dumped their contents on the ground below Gaspard. Silver halla by the dozen fell, as did banners with the same, and the keys to the city gates and the keep. When the bags were empty, I tossed them aside. Somehow, I felt better having done that.
"I, Samuel Hunt, Viceroy of the Dales," I completed, "Accept your terms for our surrender."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, the long foreshadowed defeat finally comes. I wanted to catch the characters out completely, I think I achieved that with aplomb. Victimised by their own success and limitations. I don't think the revolution, or at least this part of the revolution, could have ended any other way.
The next volume will be written after November 12th, and will be entitled 'Ferelden' as previously stated. There'll be a general edit of this volume too, for errors and to improve writing.
It seems alerts are still down, across the site, with many many others affected by this, so I'll plead with you here to check my page regularly for updates!
I'd also like to recommend the Mass Effect story 'First Contacts' by Imperator Rex here, as it's a great little piece so far. Also helps that Imperator Rex is a fan of this.
Katkiller-V: How's this for a rude cliffhanger?
Racdragon339: Twists and turns are the point of stories, lad! I very much enjoy crafting them and hearing back about it.
ThelonewolfNT: Assuming your comment was in response to my wondering why people are de-following and de-favouriting the story, you may be right but it's still troubling to see. If people don't like the direction I'm going in, I'd much prefer to hear why they've stopped reading. Instead, they go quietly into the night, which is very annoying. Can't complain too much, I've gained more than twice as many as I've lost since then.
OBSERVER01: Cheers mate.
5 Coloured Walker: Welcome back to the party, you're just in time for a wham episode.