AN: Thanks for the reviews! In this chapter, we get a bit of news from Kirkwall, Orlais, and Antiva.
9:37 Dragon, Summer
Survive this.
The Knight Commander's words haunted her. She heard them hissed into her ear while she slept; they crept through the shadowed hallways of the palace and drifted on the breeze during walks after service. No one around her seemed to notice, singing with their strong voices and smiling their joyful smiles. She watched the people pass around her, she watched the trees shed their leaves, and she watched the sky darken and brighten again. But it wasn't the same as before.
She and Goran had just received their afternoon tea in one of the formal sitting rooms. It was cooler in this room than the brunch room, where windows covered an entire wall and, during the hottest time of the day at the hottest time of the year, it was like sitting in the kitchens before dinner service.
Samantha fiddled with a quill, tickling her chin with the feather-end and counting the names on the parchment; she was finalizing the guest list for her name day dinner. Historically, she hadn't been very excited for parties, but now that she was older – and she couldn't fathom that she was turning twenty-nine years old in just over a month – she discovered she rather enjoyed time with her friends. She would call on Arianna, Vincent, Benjamin, and Sophine. She supposed that there will be rumblings about town that she wasn't going to hold some elaborate gala, but she had barely endured the previous year, what with the continued stares from Starkhaven's nobility, probably wondering just when she was going to move out of the palace.
Survive this.
There are different levels of survival, and Samantha had to wonder which levels she had come to accept.
While only time with her friends could cause Samantha to truly smile of late, Goran had started smiling more and more. He smiled when the sun shone down on his mother's fountain in the Royal Gardens. He smiled when he passed by Sophine's portrait in the gallery – a truly lovely painting with some of the most delicate strokes Samantha had seen from his brush. But mostly, he smiled when the post arrived, which was why he was smiling at that particular moment.
Biting the nail on his thumb, he turned his back to Samantha as he read Sophie's letter; a gesture that she knew meant that he wished for privacy. Quietly, she rose from the sofa, silently motioning for the servant to bring her teacup, the stationary, and invitations to the other room. Just as she was tip-toeing across the large, plush rug – a round silken masterpiece only recently imported from Rivain – Goran's voice interrupted her stealthy retreat. He wasn't talking to her, but he might as well have been.
He said, "Keis."
The name halted Samantha in her tracks at the closed doors and spun around. Goran turned to her just as abruptly. He held a letter in his hands. It had been almost a year since Keis' departure. Feverish with anticipation for what the letter might say, Samantha shimmied over to Goran's side and impatiently alternated her gaze between him and the letter. The letter with news about Corbinian. There was no other reason why Keis would write.
With another one of his now all-too-common smiles, Goran carefully cracked the wax seal and unfolded the missive. As his eyes skimmed the letter, Samantha tried to peek at the words on the page, but the most she could make out was that Keis had terrible penmanship.
Goran's smile grew wide. "She found his slave camp." He paused as he continued to read and Samantha stood in silent expectancy. "He escaped! ... Someone escaped with him. They think he—"
Goran and Samantha both started, because the heavy Orlesian double doors to the room burst wide open with a loud crack, and a rather unexpected figure loomed in the entrance: the Knight Commander of Starkhaven, Ser Rayce Taaramäe.
Goran lowered the letter, pausing to stare awkwardly. Seeing the Knight Commander was a great surprise, for he was supposed to be with Grand Cleric Francesca in Orlais for the Ten Year Gathering. His boots were caked in dirt, his pants were well wrinkled, his skin looked tinted darker than normal, and his hair was stuck to his head, as though he had, at one point, been wearing a helmet or a hat.
Ser Rayce sighed deeply with relief at the sight of them – or, in particular, at the sight of Goran. Breathless, he hastily bowed just as two guards and Colin, Goran's squire, rushed through the wide-open doors.
"You must be announced, ser!" Colin squeaked, then turning to Goran. "My prince! The Knight Commander—"
"The prince can see me!" Rayce snapped at the boy, displaying his rarely revealed temper. "Your Highness, I must speak to you at once."
Goran held up his hands to Colin and the guards, gesturing for them to close the doors. "Come in, then, Ser. Do you need anything?" Goran looked down to the man's boots. "Perhaps... a warm bath?"
"A bath?" Rayce blurted, bewildered, before refocusing. "Your Highness, we have put the Circle on lockdown. I must ask for a reserve contingent of guard to secure the Tower."
Samantha's gaze snapped to the window, through which she could see the Circle Tower. From her vantage point, she could glimpse the top of the Western Gates. She had stood near the gates once with Corbinian at her side, reading a bronze plaque. It had said, Time inevitably brings an end to all things in the material world, and yet in this ending is the seed of a beginning. First Enchanter Raddick had insisted that those plaques be re-forged for the new tower. And ever unchanging, as it had been on that day, the Tower was still and quiet, its height made more impressive by its gleaming white stones and gold accents. Remade to look as it had once been. As though nothing ever changes. Maybe that had been the point. The mages could burn the tower to the ground, but it would come back like a weed. A white gleaming Tree of Heaven.
Goran didn't move. He asked, "Why?"
Ser Rayce rushed to get the words out. "The Champion of Kirkwall and a rogue apostate have destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall and murdered Grand Cleric Elthina, First Enchanter Orsino, and Knight Commander Meredith."
Samantha let out a gasp, slapping her hands to her mouth. Flora! Sebastian! Were they there? Were they dead? She imagined mages flying out of Kirkwall's tower on smooth twists of smoke, throwing fireballs from their fingers and turning innocent bystanders to stone with their eyes.
Goran still stood motionless beside Samantha, sharing in her shock.
"Your Highness," Rayce prompted eagerly. "I know you have questions and I will answer them, but first I need the city guard to secure our own mages."
"Yes," Goran rasped, coming to his senses. "Do what you must, ser. My resources are at your disposal."
Without showing any relief, the Knight Commander spun about, his cape fanning out behind him dramatically. He made for the door, but halted at the sound of Samantha's terror-stricken voice.
"Do the mages know?" she asked, thinking of the last rebellion.
"Not yet," he replied quietly.
He turned and gripped the handles of both doors simultaneously, swinging them open wide. To her surprise, the Knight Commander halted just outside the door, pivoting around to look at her.
Survive this.
He said, "I will return."
Keis had said that.
Samantha felt sick to her stomach, a brackish lump rising in her throat. But it wasn't just fear for herself or Goran or Sebastian or Flora – it was for Ser Rayce as well. She didn't want any of them to die.
Goran plopped down on a soft sofa, his expression blank. "A chantry destroyed... A Grand Cleric dead... killed by a mage."
Samantha gripped the locket around her neck absentmindedly. What new terrible tragedy had magic been responsible for? What kind of horror could two people – one mage and a Champion – bring to the world? The images of Innley's horrible green eyes were burned into the back of her psyche, coming back to life with her fear. Maybe one mage was all it took. They had taken Corbinian. Would they take Sebastian, too? Would they kill Flora? Would they come for her and Goran?
She looked around the room, which was as dark from the closed curtains that blocked out the Maker's heat, and with it, His light. "What if—?"
"Don't think about that, Sammie," Goran urged, running a shaky hand over his chin. "Don't think about it." After a pause, he called to his squire. "Colin, find Prince Regent Garrity and bring him here."
The boy turned on his heels and disappeared from sight faster than anyone could blink.
Samantha sat down next to the Goran on the sofa, her imagination playing on her fears. She remembered the loud booms from the city on the night Circle Tower rebelled – yes, of course! She would likely hear some kind of warning before any violence erupted! She turned back to the window, to the Circle Tower, watching and waiting, straining to hear that warning, imagining that it could be anything: a sound, a bell, a scream. But nothing came. There was only the sound of the birds chirping, a faint breeze that rustled the leaves on the trees whose limbs clacked against the window's glass, the sing-song voices of the servants in the gardens, and through it all, the tick-tocking of the clocks marked the time as it passed.
Eventually, Samantha turned back around and was surprised to see the Lord Garrity already in the room – had she been so distracted that she had missed his arrival? She stood up immediately and curtsied.
"Forgive my manners—" she started, but Goran interrupted, and that meant he was nervous.
"Sammie, it's okay." He was pacing the room, moving here and there and back again, speaking fast and impatiently to Lord Garrity like they had been in mid-conversation. "I think the first thing we need to do is secure the city. Post guards at every gate. We need to know who comes in and goes out."
Lord Garrity nodded. He was standing calmly near a bottle of brandy, a half-filled glass already in hand. Samantha worried that the Eberstarks had departed just a tenday earlier. She wondered how long they would be traveling, and imagined them running into apostates and murderers on the road. She took some comfort knowing that Lord Eberstark was a military hero with a dozen guards protecting Lady Eberstark and Sophine in their carriage. How long would it take for them to return to Ansburg? Surely, they would be safe upon their arrival to their own palaces or estates or wherever military leaders lived.
Lord Garrity spoke slowly, his voice steady and calm as Goran snapped his fingers for Colin to take notes. "Good idea, my young prince. You must also secure the castle." Lord Garrity hooked his thumb over his suspenders. "Post extra guards at every entrance and secure every window. If there are tunnels underneath the grounds, those must be secured as well. You cannot leave any way into the palace unchecked."
"Yes, ser."
The Prince Regent scratched his whiskers thoughtfully. "You'll need your armor and a weapon if you're trained."
"I'm not," Goran said, and he sounded worried about that.
Lord Garrity just nodded in understanding. "Then keep a guard with you at all times. And write letters immediately. You need a plan to send them should anyone breach the palace so that your allies know the city is no longer yours. Perhaps small servants disguised as runaway children can make it out of the city better than your riders."
Goran's brows knotted together. "Children?"
Lord Garrity held up a finger. "There are many things people don't see when they're looking for something else."
"Right," Goran said thoughtfully. "That's a good idea."
Remembering her own experience, the doorway to her estate blocked by the demon, Samantha bounced up from the sofa. "You'll need an escape plan."
Both Goran and Lord Garrity turned to her, surprised. Goran said nothing, or at least he paused, but Lord Garrity spoke first. "The Prince of Starkhaven does not run."
"You'll do Starkhaven no good if you're dead," she said, certain that the worry in her eyes was plain to see.
She and Goran watched each other. The tree limbs clacked against the window, and the birds chirped, and the servants outside still sang in the distance, but for one eternal second, Samantha thought the clocks had stopped ticking. Finally, Goran turned to Colin and said, "Rylan shall be my guard. Inform him that he is to pack a bag with the prince's seal and set it just inside the southeast tunnels, those closest to my family's wing. We shall make our way there if necessary."
Colin scribbled furiously and Lord Garrity sighed in obvious annoyance. "Your Highness, you cannot abandon—"
Goran spoke over him. "Surviving is my priority, Lord Regent. Not for myself, but for Starkhaven. Sammie is right; Starkhaven needs a Vael who is fit to rule. If the palace is overrun and I have to organize some sort of... coup to retake my own city... then, I will."
Goran had not run before, but no one in the room could disagree that the last time the palace had been infiltrated, he had guilelessly survived by hiding in a closet. He was right; Starkhaven needed him, and had likely only survived the years since the Vaels' demise because of him. He may have been craven seven years ago, but so much had changed. Perhaps it was his thickheadedness that drove him to face his fears, to see only one option: Prince Goran Vael. He had once told Samantha that he had had no choice, but never once had she heard him say that he didn't think he could do it.
Goran then said, "I need to call the council."
"Ah, yes." Lord Garrity seemed surprised, but impressed.
"I need to tell them before they find out," Goran grumbled. "And cut them off before they try and take over the city."
"They can't do that! Can they?" Samantha asked hopefully; she had cleverly avoided learning anything about the inner workings of Starkhaven's Governing Council in the five years since she had moved into the palace, and now she was wondering if that had been wise.
"Only if they felt the prince wasn't safeguarding the city as is his responsibility," Lord Garrity explained. "By giving them this news and then telling them what's being done, he's effectively cutting them off. They'll have no power."
Samantha huffed; always with politics! Even in times of tragedy!
"I don't make the rules," he said apologetically.
Goran turned to Lord Garrity and bowed formally. "Thank you, ser. Your guidance in this matter is greatly appreciated." He started to walk towards the door, calling back: "We should convene the council now..."
Lord Garrity bowed deeply but surprised Goran by saying, "Your Highness, you mean that you should convene the council now."
Stopping at the door, the Prince of Starkhaven turned around slowly, his confused expression speaking for him, but Lord Garrity just smiled.
"I think you don't need a Regent anymore," the man said, walking up to Goran and placing a hand on his shoulder.
Goran swallowed hard, and looked back to Samantha, his expression somewhere between fear and pride. She would always remember that moment: the moment he truly became the Prince of Starkhaven.
Goran extended his hand, which Lord Garrity grasped heartily. When he spoke, the prince sounded formal, and maybe a little shaky. "I thank you, ser. For the great service you have done the city. And the throne. You have performed admirably and honestly..." Goran paused awkwardly, searching for the words. "And I will never forget the things you said."
Lord Garrity grinned with everything he had, obviously moved by Goran's ceremony. "Until you, I'd never a met a man who could be skilled in any profession he chose. You're ready to do this on your own."
"Thank you, ser." Goran smiled, and it was beautiful.
Lord Garrity bowed deeply before his departure, but Goran still left Samantha alone in the room without saying anything. He was too preoccupied to adhere to decorum, though she supposed his poor manners would probably never improve.
The Circle Tower was still quiet, and the birds were still chirping. Other than the sing-song voices of the servants outside, she heard no sounds, no bells, and no screams. Mages flying on dragons didn't erupt from the tower's ramparts, and no black smoke billowed into the lovely blue summer sky. It was like the world didn't know about the horrible events that were taking place. Horrible events like demonic possession and torture. Was Sebastian lying crumpled up within the rubble of Kirkwall's Chantry, his forehead stained with soot and his robes caked with his own blood? Was Flora lying forgotten in an alleyway in Lowtown, her body badly burned, the victim of an escaped mage's fireball? Her imagination was getting the better of her, she felt lightheaded, and reached down for something solid to steady herself. Instead of finding the smooth polished oak table, she found parchment.
She looked down and discovered that Goran had left Keis' letter behind. Acting on their own, her fingers curled around the edges of the paper, her wrists turning to lift the letter, and she had to pause at every word to read it – Keis really needed to work on her handwriting – for the scribbles that danced unevenly across the page were nearly illegible. Samantha's mind quieted down and her nerves began to steady, and she found that by concentrating on the letter, she could make out a few phrases.
Antiva... slaver camp in ruin... explosion... questioned... Corbinian escaped with... a trail... West... the Hundred Pillars... can't make the... we'll check... Marothius... Hanavhalla... Perivantium, Arevio...
Samantha couldn't actually read the names of the cities, but recognized enough of the letters to understand some of them, and stringing the phrases together gave her an idea of what Keis meant. It seemed to Samantha that Keis had arrived at the slaver camp to find it in ruins – that much was clear. Something had exploded. Perhaps there was confusion afterwards, and perhaps during that confusion, Corbinian had escaped. Maybe he'd had help, maybe not. Keis had followed his trail west until she couldn't follow it anymore, because the trail led into the mountains: the Hundred Pillars. The mountain range to the north that cut between Antiva and Tevinter was so named for the naturally occurring juts of rock that made the terrain there so jagged and unmanageable; it was virtually impassable, there was rarely a point of going through it – only around it. It was also covered in ice for the better part of the year. Every year. If that's where Keis thought Corbinian had gone, then that was worse than the swamps! Why would he go in there? Was he being chased? Did he have a choice? The uncertainty about his reasons turned Samantha's skin inside out, sensitizing her to the mildest irritation, and she spied the bottle of brandy on the other side of the room. Dulling her senses sounded appealing.
As she crossed the rug again, she thought about the list of cities. Keis had given a long list of at least fifteen cities and small towns surrounding the Hundred Pillars that she was going to check. Samantha understood her logic. If Corbinian made it out, then certainly he would need to find help. Or maybe, whoever he was with would take him there, or someone in the town may have run into him in the mountain range and recognize him from a drawing.
Survive this, Beenie, she silently prayed, sending her thoughts halfway across the world. Survive this and come home to me.
Samantha poured a shameless amount of brandy into a small square glass and downed it quickly. The inside of her nose burned and her chest warmed from the sweet sting of alcohol. From across the room, the Circle Tower still stood tall, white, and clean. Over the faraway voices of the singing servants, the clacking tree against the window, the clock kept the world's predicted rhythm. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Even the birds still chirped, ignorant of the Maker that had cursed them all. His First Children. His Second Children. His world that was His.
His hair was stuck to his head, as though he had, at one point, been wearing a helmet or a hat.