Chapter 77: Prince Ali

Ansburg fell after seven days of fire and blood.

The walls and outer defences crumbled under the withering attention of our artillery after just one, but the defenders were very far from idle during that time. They were taking rubble from the walls and knocking down their own buildings to make more. With the material gained, they were creating a labyrinth of barricades, turning their streets into a maze leading to Lady Aurum's mansion and keep.

We had no clue this was going on of course, it's not like we had drones, planes or even balloons for recon inside the town. There was no shortage of prejudice among our officers, those that knew who the Ansburgers' stereotypes anyway. The possibility of such rustics putting up an imaginative defence was deemed impossible, and I had to take their word on it because I had no frame of reference on them. Our intelligence more or less backed up the idea that they were backwards, at least militarily.

I wasn't stupid though, I knew they intended to fight hard and prepared accordingly. It was a very good thing I did.

I put the Highlanders through the first major breach in strength, Asala leading the forlorn hope troops through to start the battle. The Avvar mages had been taught improved barrier techniques by our own Circle-origin ones, so the initial assault went very well. The Ansburg citizenry and militia were repulsed from the area around the breach with ease, more than we were expecting.

This led the Highlanders to get a little cocky, and they rushed off down the streets in pursuit of the foe. They barely got a hundred yards before arrows from barricaded houses and piles of rubble used as mini-castles injured a great many of my soldiers.

Aoife, in charge of the column that was attacked first, wisely ordered the retreat. Urban fighting was not well liked by the Avvars, they were not used to it despite their training.

I was very familiar with urban combat, however, and I was not in the mood for an extensive delay.

The cannons were brought into the city, and we systematically reduced it.

A typical hour looked something like this:

Artillery would shattered the buildings, barricades and defences. This forced the enemy back or into cover, but had the effect of destroying the local infrastructure.

Mages would be escorted up to close range to burn everything with fade-fire. This usually resulted in the neutralisation of most of the enemy that hadn't retreated, though they got the picture after the first six hours and retreated immediately on seeing the mages, unable to kill them behind a screen of our firelances and magical barriers.

Lastly, the firelancers would charge and secure the area, often finishing off whatever defenders remained with sword and axe. There weren't many alive left to resist by that point.

We did this block-by-block, even in places where it didn't seem like there was any resistance, from the main breach onwards towards the Margravine's mansion. We exploited a second breach to cut off a section of the city, where we sent disarmed civilians and isolated them for safety.

Though it seems most historians do not believe that was my intention, but rather to tempt the Margravine into an attack to free said civilians, because such an attack did happen and was handily repulsed by the Foreign Legion, whom had been assigned to guard the way.

In the end, we made it to the central square at a cost of few lives but quite a lot of ammunition. By now, we were down to thirty-five percent of our blackpowder stores, though production was keeping up with demand for the moment. We even lost a few of the older cannons to wear-and-tear, requiring them to be shipped back to the Mithril factories to be recast.

On the morning of the seventh day, the Margravine finally surrendered. Her mansion was mostly filled with terrified civilians and she was facing a real 'Fall of Berlin' moment. Whatever point she was trying to prove had been proved by that time.

It was an unconditional surrender.

Having done nothing wrong except defend their city, I sent the Margravine and the nobility to Starkhaven by boat. Some criticised this decision, but I wanted the reports of our victory to infect the minds of the Starkhaveners and other Marchers like a virus.

And it worked. The nobles under Vael began demanding a more defensive strategy, claiming that just how long it took me to conquer Ansburg was proof that meeting us on the field was a bad idea.

Soprano was able to make great advances against Starkhaven, sweeping the northern foothills of the Frostbacks east to west, and then moving slowly north towards Vael's city itself. There was a line of forts and castles to be taken between her and the grand prize, so that would delay her for a while. They couldn't have threatened her supply or communication lines, she had eluvians, but we had allies to consider.

As for my own army, we moved east into Antivan territory, heading towards the area of Bastion on the coast with the Navy shadowing us as before.

The day after we entered Antiva, the Calabrians revolted against Antivan rule and sent envoys to me, asking for a parley. They gave us word that that a convention of Calabrian leadership was planned to convene in Salle to decide the fate of the country, so we moved at the quickmarch.

Bastion welcomed us with welcome arms, where we met the first of the leaders. I don't remember much about them, they seemed like unremarkable men and women. There were also a great many of them, and who led them shifted like sand. Frankly, so many that I don't feel confident enough to relate their names with any sort of accuracy.

Yet they had determined to do something very remarkable indeed; to found a nation. Or to use their own rhetoric, to refound one.

This was a huge undertaking because of the nature of Antiva.

For centuries, that kingdom was protected by excellent diplomacy and even more excellent assassins, protected by the mercenary armies of its merchant 'princes' and its dual-purpose commercial fleets. Any revolt by subordinate cities would have had to avoid assassinations of leaders, conquest by the mercs and economic ruin before any other realm would have considered aid.

Needless to say, most rebellions against Antivan rule have been spectacularly unsuccessful, and few ever arose anyway. Antiva was rich. Perhaps not as rich as Orlais, or the wealth is concentrated in the hands of fewer people as the noble class is not as gargantuan as the Orlesian one, but it was wealthy. Taxes weren't huge. Nor were the Calabrians hugely in love with the principles we stood for, as you'll see.

But the Calabrians wanted a more equal distribution of power, end of story.

They did not necessarily even want to exclude Antiva or the other subject cities. They understood the advantages of unity in the region. For those readers from Earth, if there are any, I suggest you go read up about the Social War, when Rome's allies in Italy rose up in revolt in order to gain citizenship. The motivations of the Calabrians were similar to the Italian allies.

For Thedosians, you should recognise the term; we had our own Social War not too long ago.

Naturally, we preferred a permanently divided Antiva so we could split parts off it off into our own sphere of influence, so we acted at once to assure that outcome.

We went at once to Salle, escorting the leaders of Bastion.

It was an … eventful march.

There were no fewer than seven attempts to breach the defences of our camps and marching columns by Crow assassins.

Three tries at sneaking into our camp at night. Two attempts to join the march in false uniforms. One attempt to hide in a leafy tree by the roadside. Another involving false-flag bandit attack and a 'helpless' victim. All failed due to the attention of my scouts and the strictness of the orders I had given.

It was hard to determine who exactly their target was, myself or the Bastion leadership. Perhaps it was both or either, but I suppose it didn't really matter. I had those in false uniforms shot, because wearing the uniform of your enemy with intent to kill them is itself a war crime. The others I held as prisoners of war, because I needed leverage against the Crows.

A day out from Salle, an Antivan mercenary army showed up.

Presumably they had originally moved to besiege the city, as there was also an army besieging Rialto further up the coast.

The commander of the force attacking Salle must have gotten word that we were approaching. We had plenty of warning, both from our scouts and riders from Salle itself, and we were able to set up in an excellent position south-east of the city. It was hilly, but we managed to draw up in lines of battle anyway.

There was no guile or subterfuge involved, and in fact, barely any tactics. The mercenaries drew their bows and crossbows, the Highlanders and my other troops levelled their firelances. After three volleys and a barrage from our cannon, the Antivan forces withdrew.

The field was ours, as was victory, but it was not decisive. The enemy likely lost fewer than ten percent of their force before retreating in good order, and since it was not good terrain for cavalry, we could not chase them down.

So, instead, we marched into Salle. The city was jubilant with the news that we had swept aside the enemy so easily. We had a good time there, the troops more or less partying and recovering, until I set them to preparing to march out. On the second day, the leaders of Rialto arrived by sea, completing the set of Calabrian nobles.

On the third, we declared the Republic of Calabria, an alliance between that new country and Troy, and I gifted them a tricolour banner of red, white and green; the colours of Bastion, Salle and Rialto.

A suitably Italian colour scheme, I thought. They liked it.

In theory, they were to organise themselves around a Senate; a mix of nobles and elected representatives in a single government. We didn't specify anything beyond that. The rest of the job of creating a state was theirs.

In reality, it would become an oligarchy, as the rich merchants monopolised the elected seats and the nobles did their bidding in return for bribes. The dream of democracy did not flourish there, nor did the leaders there believe in it. Our own dream was already in great peril, so we didn't care; we just needed the Calabrians to do what they were told.

It was the first of the 'sister-republics' to our own.

We got word that the Antivan army had rallied its full strength outside the walls of Rialto, so I called together the mercenary forces of Calabria, so we could march on the enemy. The locals were a little slower to get ready for such a thing, not all of their mercenaries having been present in the so it would take another day of preparations.

And it was that day that I met Prince Ali.

We had occupied the palaces of the merchant princes of Salle, something they disliked but we had insisted on.

They were the most defensible position, and were fully maintained as such. Our cannon had clear sight lines from their large doorways and walls all the way down the main avenues to the city gates, and not a damn mouse could've lived if we had chosen to close the roads off to traffic with a little whiff of grapeshot.

The final and most formidable of the mercenary companies was due to join us to resupply, and once that was complete, we would march on Rialto to liberate it.

The leader of Compañía Real had requested an audience, and that was something of a political bind. The whole point of the company was to support a pretender to the throne of Rivain, and one day retake that realm from both the Qunari and the others who claimed to be royals, but who sat on that particular seat wasn't something I viewed to be any of my business.

To add insult to injury, Admiral Fisher had sent me a report, our fleet had encountered a large Antivan naval force and was moving to attack it before it rallied with even more ships.

I didn't see much benefit in indulging the company's fantasies beyond defeating Antiva.

But because we were in fact fighting Antiva at that moment, and the extra cavalry would be most welcome, I agreed to meet.

I had Tam and Julie brought to me, the former because it was part of my political schemes, and the latter because she herself was of Rivaini blood so I thought I could get some advantage out of that.

Mariette invited herself, doing her duty as head of the OSS in providing me with information on the person I was going to meet.

So, the four of us stood around on a balcony overlooking the emptied main square of Salle, awkward as hell while Mariette organised her notes. What I had done to her still sat uneasy, not least because she hadn't really made clear her decision on the consequences. Plus any time she came into my presence, our mutual addiction had a chance of flaring up, leaving us discontented.

"So who is this Prince?" I asked, trying to hurry things along, "Are they actually a Prince or just some poor idiot the merchants support so they can mess with Rivain?"

"As close as you get to the real thing in Rivain," Mariette replied, not looking at her documents, "He was supposed to be the heir to the throne for the Andrastian royals, if you can call them that. They don't really believe in the Maker. The Qunari-aligned side of the family never recognised him."

"What happened?" Tam inquired.

Mariette finally got the papers she wanted, and handed out summaries to the three of us.

"Ali Bahadur Campana," she read aloud, "Born as Alicia Bahadura Campana, the first child of the former Queen of Rivain. Royal lineage direct from both Rivain and Antiva. Prince-consort and father died three years after, Queen remarried. He refused to be called a girl any longer at age thirteen, changed his name to the current one. Lost his claim to the Rivaini crown among the Andrastians as a result, his half-sister became heir-designate and she became Queen of Rivain as recognised by the Chantry only three years ago."

Mariette paused and looked at me for comment. Wasn't sure I had any, the situation was even more complex than I had imagined.

"I'm confused," I admitted, "Does the Chantry have rules against... I don't know how to describe it? I'd have to ask the Prince I guess? Anyway, you can lose your throne for that?"

Seemed a bit harsh, I had thought the nobles were pretty tolerant about a lot as long as you did your breeding duty and killed enough peasants.

"Rivainis and Antivans call it Aqun-Athlok, a loan phrase from the Qunari," Mariette said, matter-of-factly, "And it isn't the Chantry that stripped him of his previous birthright, it's the law of succession in Rivain that is the problem. The crown is matrilineal, men can only inherit the throne if there are no living female heirs..."

Prince Ali being a man meant he was a candidate for the throne no longer.

"You know a lot," Julie said, impressed, "You knew he'd come to us about the throne, didn't you?"

Mariette nodded. "The Compañía Real would never side against Antiva, except if there was a real chance for the Prince to reclaim his throne," she explained, "You see, he fled Rivain to his relatives and became a fixture at the Antivan court."

She held out another paper to me, a sort of spider's web diagram with the Prince's name in the middle and the names of heavy hitters from Antiva branching out from it along lines.

"The merchants took him under their wing and made sure he was a real threat to his half-sister if she should throw up any real trade barriers," Mariette concluded, "He's been a mercenary for twenty years now."

"How repulsive," Tam remarked, lips curled with disgust, "That siblings would be used against each other in such a way."

"Something he seems to be aware of, if he's coming to us," Julie responded, "Though maybe he wants to string her up too?"

"No, he has publicly said on many occasions that his half-sister is his heir," said Mariette, "He has no intention of killing her. She was enthroned young and has little power anyway, in truth he is opposed by a set of powerful clans rather than his own blood."

"So what can we expect?" I asked, "He'll ask for our support to take the throne? Or weapons and training?"

"He can just buy the latter," Julie sniffed, "The Trojan treasury isn't in a position to do charity, Leha will kill us both if we try to force it. Doesn't sound like he's got the money to afford it."

I nodded my agreement with that statement. We were producing weapons of war like no realm had ever seen before, and it was costing us. Aside from the Wardens, we weren't going to be arming anyone else.

"What doeshe expect to give us in return?" I continued, directing the enquiry at Mariette.

"I should think he'll attempt to play the enemy-of-my-enemy card," she said, "If he's King of Rivain, then we can kick the Qunari out of Kont-aar and their threat to us is more or less ended."

Julie hmmed to herself. "It's a shrewd strategy, but it'll piss off the Tevinters. Kont-aar is a troop sink for the Qun, taking it would free up soldiers for their operations on Seheron. Better to leave it there unless we plan on supporting the magisters directly."

Tam's face contorted, her previous disgust turned to complete outrage. She might have left the Qun, but her approval of the Tevinter Imperium was non-existent.

"We are already cooperating with the bas in this war," she said, "But that is out of necessity alone. Unless this Prince offers us necessary reason for supporting him, we must turn him down."

"Agreed," I said, before turning to Mariette, "I don't want to talk about the laws of Rivain being against him or something if that would cause trouble, would he be insulted by that?"

"Probably," Mariette replied with a wince, "His legal position is that he was stripped of the position of heir without reference to the clans and seer councils, which is a weak argument, but it's also the only legs he has to stand on. Rivaini law is quite clear."

"I'll figure something out," I said, "Start things off by recognising his claim, then shoot him down with more practical issues if he has nothing to offer."

"Can we afford to reject him?" Tam asked, "He has a small army, in our midst."

"Nothing we couldn't slaughter in an afternoon," I sighed, before a blast of trumpets announced the arrival of the Compañía Realinto the city from afar.

I almost had to take that statement back when I saw the scene in front of me.

Many of my readers will not know what a cataphract is, but it is effectively a knight and their horse covered in intricate scale armour, the pre-combustion engine version of a panzer.

Entering the city gates, five ranks across, were seventy or more cataphracts with long lances and bows, covered head-to-hoof in grey-steel armoured scales. Atop their helmets were large feather plumes, all in orange, which were the only ornamentation I could see aside from a single standard bearer with a purple banner. This was no parade ground unit. This was a crack heavy cavalry unit.

The most remarkable thing about them however was that they were riding camels from the Drylands, a region of northern Antiva that borders Rivain, rather than horses or the lizards favoured in Tevinter. Camels aren't great for charging infantry, they're slower and bigger, but most horses are shit scared of them. They can stop a charge of heavy horse dead in its tracks through their unfamiliarity to equine mounts alone.

Nevarra favours such troops when they can rent them, given Orlais' massive cavalry advantage, though only the Compañíahad the armour of those now making its way up the main avenue to the sound of drumbeats.

The locals scattered in their wake, crowding the side-streets to get a good look and the cheers went up, as the kids waved to the mercenaries just as they had waved to us when we marched in.

But the camels weren't the star of the show.

Behind them, the elephants began making their way through the gateway arches and electrified everyone watching.

The animals were about as large as I had ever seen, but not larger. The sight of them would be familiar to any Earthling as an African bush elephant, with long ivory tusks, large heads and large flappy ears that flicked this way and that.

These specimens had steel plate helmets around their upper skulls, chainmail draped over their sides or wrapped around their legs in layers, and short wooden towers that held two people, the elephant driver and an archer.

Again, there was little ornamentation except for feather plumes, and I realised that even those had the practical purpose of allowing identification of the unit at a distance, fulfilling the same purpose as our own regimental standards. No ceremonial nonsense.

On the lead elephant was Prince Ali himself. Like his cataphracts, he wore a formidable bassinet helmet and scale armour, though his plume was gold and he had a gold-edged purple sash. He was not the one driving the elephant, another cataphract was doing that, but was atop the perch in the tower, holding a kontoslance as long as a bargepole with a large golden apple as counterweight to the vicious looking armour-piercing tip on the other end.

Again, a northern Antivan/south-western Rivain look where military equipment is concerned.

The elephants filled the avenue like nothing else could, and they were halfway to the palace we were in by the time anyone could speak.

"It's sad," Tam half-whispered, "Such a sight."

The rest of us turned to her, wondering what had brought on that comment. She soon noticed that we were all staring at her.

"They are noble animals," I said, "But not more so than horses."

Tam shook her head. "That is not the problem," she explained, "Soon, such a wonderful sight will no longer be seen... replaced by machines. It might mean liberty for all, but it will not be as beautiful."

The others said nothing, but I had an answer to that.

"Maybe," I said, "But you've never seen an airplane for real either."

And when she finally did, she went all B.A. Baracus on it, but that's a story for another time.

We waited for the Prince in the seaward-facing raised courtyard, providing a spectacular view. Salle sits on one side of a small peninsula that juts out into the sea, marking the oceanic border between Rialto Bay to the north and the Amaranthine Ocean to the south and east.

For once, the wind was not blowing strongly off the water onto shore, but we were thankfully saved from cooking in our own juices by some intermittent cloud cover. It was the hottest part of the year and you could really feel it.

The companions of mine that had been on the balcony with me had been joined by some representatives of the League of Ansburg, no one of any real importance save for the hahrenI had insisted be there. They were there are witnesses, if for no other real reason. There were a bunch of attendants with them too.

Half the space was taken up by our troops, Avvar Highlanders stripped down to nothing but shorts, men and women both, with knives and axes festooned on their belts, wooden cartridges hanging off their bare chests in bandoliers and firelances in their hands. They were not standing at attention or anything, they were just hanging around, sitting on the ornate limestone fencing, watching.

The only ones not in uniform among our own number were Tam and Julie, for the obvious reason that they wouldn't fit in them at the time; mage robes of the most loose fitting kind were adopted instead. I was in a mix of Earth and Trojan uniform myself, Kevlar on, the good old G36 firelance slung over my shoulder. I was regretting the Kevlar despite the cloud cover.

The Prince arrived to the space without great fanfare, emerging from inside the palace. He had no bodyguards or attendants, but a small Capuchin monkey sat on his shoulder. The monkey fled to the ground as he pulled off the pointed helmet he had on, revealing a face with scarred bronze skin, piercing dark-brown eyes and black hair cut down almost to the skin. I placed his age at north of forty, though it was hard to tell. Someone had slashed him across the face twice, once upon a time.

Reminded me of a staff-sergeant I thankfully had little interaction with, because he was a crazy fuck, at least physically. Prince Ali was not particularly tall, 5'8'' tops, and was wiry in build. Definitely had endurance if he was walking around in that armour without keeling over in this heat.

The Capuchin resumed its place on the Prince's shoulder as his eyes sucked in every details of the scene in front of them, like god damn radar dishes. It was a tense moment. My military irreverence came out at once to meet it.

"If the monkey throws its own crap," I said quietly to no one in particular, "I'm shooting them both."

That got smiles from Tam and Julie, who were standing to either side of me, as well as whatever troops were in in earshot. Mariette had donned her harlequin mask, so it was harder to tell with her. Mission accomplished, whatever

The Prince noticed and scowled, zeroing in on us and approaching. He marched up, stopped a step or two in front of me, examining the four of us. When he had completed that task to his satisfaction, he looked me directly.

"Prince Ali Campana," he said, in a lightly accented Orlesian, "Rightful King of Rivain, Llomerryn and Estwatch."

At least he had the good taste not to outright call himself the king before he had actually taken that position. Not all such pretenders do. His Orlesian was also impeccable, maybe even better than mine.

The Prince offered his gloved hand to shake. I reached out and then I hesitated, not because I didn't want to accept the offer. For one, the monkey was eyeing me suspiciously, but I also wasn't sure whether or not I should introduce myself in the same way. I didn't have to decide before it got awkward, however.

"This is Samuel Hunt, Imperatorof the Trojans," Julie chimed in, "Hegemon of the League of Ansburg and Marquis de la Fayette."

I shook his hand after, the monkey not doing anything in the end, while the Prince cocked his head. "You must be Julie of Hearth," he said, "I can see the rumours of your kinship with my own people are true. I hope you can help us come to an understanding today."

Julie smiled, falsely. "Through my mother," she said in Common, before adding, "My father was Dalish."

Tam and I exchanged glances, understanding that Julie had gone overboard yet again. The Prince seemed unbothered by the mention of her elvhen descent, thankfully.

"By Rivaini law, you are one of my subjects," the Prince replied, remaining diplomatic, "I merely wished to state that I consider us to be kin, of a sort. I apologise if I have offended."

"You haven't," Tam interjected, "My love only warns you that we negotiate on terms and principles, not on who anyone is." Damage control on her part. Successful too.

The Prince looked up at her, for he definitely had to do so given the height difference, and nodded once.

"Of course," he agreed, approvingly, "Let us begin."

"If you have a proposal, make it," I stated politely, in Common. The Prince's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, thrown off by my accent. But rather than state that I sounded dwarvish or something along those lines, he pressed on.

"First of all, my troops need fodder for their animals," the Prince said, keeping to Orlesian, "You are under no obligation to assist, but I was hoping you could do so."

A reasonable request, given that we were probably going to go into battle together.

"I'll inform our Logistics Corps," I replied, "Though I am not sure what elephants eat."

"I will provide a list," the Prince said, "I thank you."

He shifted his weight on his feet and straightened his back.

"A more serious matter," he said, "I have received a letter from the royal court in Antiva, asking that I relay the wish of the Kingdom of Antiva to come to peace on generous terms."

Now that was surprising. The Antivans still had troops in the field and ships at sea, yet they were trying to buy their way out of it. And strangely enough, the Prince had not mentioned.

"I do not see any benefit in doing so," I responded, honestly, "The Army of the Alba, this army, will soon be at the gates of Antiva City, and our navy will lie at anchor across the harbour. Why would I agree to negotiate at all?"

"Antiva may still cause you harm, especially at sea," the Prince opined, "Whereas if you make peace, you will receive a large sum of gold, freedom to rally your troops to face Starkhaven, and an alliance with my forces if you agree to terms on that as well. An ambassador has been dispatched to Rialto with the blessing of Divine Justinia herself."

I ignored the mention of terms for alliance with the Compañía, because the mention of an ambassador sent by Justinia was a far more serious matter. I thought I could guess who it was too: Sister Nightingale. I was incorrect in that assumption. The Divine was to send someone far more capable in diplomacy.

"And I presume that if I refuse to at least talk to this ambassador, the Divine will declare an Exalted March," I concluded aloud, "Perhaps use the issue to force the Templars and Mages to the negotiation table."

"I do not know," the Prince admitted, "But it seems likely. The Chantry does not have military forces of its own, but the Divine coming out against you would no doubt damage your efforts to spread your influence. Furthermore, the possibility of alliance between Rivain and Troy against the Qunari would also be destroyed."

"And you would have us build an alliance, ideally?" Tam asked, "To march on Kont-aar?"

"We are natural allies in this regard," the Prince replied quickly, showing the first real enthusiasm, "The Qunari colony is a cancer in my realm, it must be cut out. While it exists, your new realm is also within striking distance of Qunandar."

"It also keeps Qunari forces divided," I said, "The Qun could conquer Tevinter if we don't keep them on the back foot, then we're all fucked. Rivain, Troy, Antiva, the Marches, Nevarra, even Orlais and Ferelden."

The Prince cocked his head at me ever so slightly, perhaps not appreciating my undiplomatic language. I am an uncouth son of a bitch, never let it be said otherwise. But it was all part of the game. This was a royal, no different to Gaspard, Celene or Vael. They always think they're in a superior position. Reminding them otherwise always keeps them off balance.

Except Alistair of Ferelden, he was brought up from too low a station to be shocked by that.

"And if the Qunari conquer Rivain, you have a similar problem," the Prince asserted, pointing off to the sea like the dreadnoughts were coming at that very moment, "Antiva falls next, then this collection of puppets you're calling Calabria. We're not strong enough if the Arishok decides to take us and no one will care until it's too late."

I couldn't help but grimace at that. The man had made a great point.

"Then we rally the rest of the Marches together under the League's banner," Julie said, playing to our obvious military superiority, "And we will smash them like we smashed them at the Alba."

"Which will cost far more lives, treasure, time," came the immediate reply from the Prince, "If we coordinate with your Tevinter allies, an offensive could take Kont-aar and significant territory in Seheron simultaneously next year."

All I can remember think was 'Shit, this guy is fast.' But I had to avoid an entanglement in Rivain. Next year was the planned start date for any offensive against the Orlesian royalists. The fall of Starkhaven was judged as inevitable. If we did throw the Qunari out, Rivain was a viper's nest of competing tribal, clan and economic interests that would consume our resources. We'd be called the foreign oppressors in no time.

"We can create an alliance, but my troops will not be marching into Rivain," I asserted, "They are from the South, yellow fever and malaria would decimate them. But I can authorise the granting of loans and sale of arms to you, train your forces, so you can take Kont-Aar yourself. That way, we're not just propping you up."

"That would be acceptable," the Prince replied, "But only if you meet with the ambassador. Will you agree to talk?"

Annoyance scratched at my mind, as I wanted to squash Antiva, not least because of the assassination attempts. The Crows we hung were forefront in my thoughts. Antiva might call off its mercenaries, but would it call off the professional killers? I doubted it.

But giving in would seem like weakness. We had the strength to conquer Antiva and the political foresight to keep it conquered for quite a while. The opportunistic merchant 'princes' would no doubt also try and backstab us at the first sign of distraction.

"I do not see how the two issues are related," I stated firmly, "Antiva will fall to me... to the Republic, soon enough. I will actually be in a better position to help you if it does."

The Prince was silent for a bit, and strolled past us to look out over the ocean. He did so for half a minute, "If Antiva falls, then so do the families that have helped and protected me in my darkest hour," he said, "Many only did so for their own benefit, but others, distant cousins, out of obligation to who I was. Both kinds were understanding of my dilemma."

He rounded on us. "I am contracted to defend Calabria, and I keep my contracts," he said, "But my honour demands I try to protect those who protected me. So if you do not allow me to try, we cannot be allies."

Tam breathed out beside me, amused. "We can destroy you just as easily!" she laughed, "Such arrogance!"

The Prince's eyes did not waver from their gaze at me, despite Tam's dismissal.

"Your reputation, Imperator, is that you fill funeral pyres and wombs with equal abandon," the Prince replied calmly, "Your reputation is that of anarchy, the dissolution of the social order. But I am betting you prefer to build than destroy, because I do not listen to the words of other men but their actions. A destroyer of society would not make proclamations about liberty in high handed words or offer former slaves a place to live."

My hand shifted to the grip of my Earth firelance, which was perpetually on me. The nerve of the shit, talking about pyres and wombs.

He pulled out a letter from his sleeve. It bore the seal of Divine Justinia. "If you do not engage in diplomacy here, no one will bother trying in future," he continued, "You will never be able to negotiate again in the South."

Which was probably true to some extent. The idea that we would be forever victorious and would never be at a disadvantage that could be remedied by diplomatic agreements would have been a silly one to hold onto.

But it was an exaggeration to say that rejecting such diplomacy at that moment would lead to a rejection by everyone else in future. And I was not afraid of an agent of the Chantry, not when they had no standing army or realms at peace to borrow a strong one from.

"I doubt that our rejection of talks at this very moment will lead to anything..." I began, before a commotion behind us from the palace erupted. Shouted voices, shouted replies, footsteps.

I turned around to find two naval ensigns in their blue uniforms running out of the relative darkness of inside the palace. My bodyguards immediately sprung up, cocking and aiming firelances at the pair. They skidded to a halt on the smooth stone, bumping into each other.

"Message from Admiral Fisher!" one declared. Both then remembered to stand to attention and salute. They were about Ciara's age, young and enthusiastic. And you could tell from their faces it was good news.

I waved the Highlanders off, who de-cocked their weapons and smirked to each other, seemingly understanding that there was nothing wrong. The one who hadn't spoke approached and offered me the note, but I was too far away to reach it.

Julie rolled her eyes, strode over and snatched it, to the ensign's alarm. She took a moment to read the note herself, before reading it aloud.

"To Army High Command from Navy High Command,

Large Antivan fleet of galleys and merchantmen engaged off the coast of Rialto City,

Enemy forces sustained heavy losses and scattered,

Our longships Justice and Liberté sustained heavy damage, but remain afloat,

Rialto Bay is now open."

And like that, the picture changed.

Now, Antiva would be unable to defend itself in the field, because Fisher could sit in the harbour and blow their capital city to hell. Which was exactly what I was going to set him up to do.

"Return to the admiral and offer my congratulations," I said to the ensigns, "Inform him he's to sail for Antiva City at once, prepare for shore bombardment and await orders."

The two saluted once more, and ran off as fast as they had before. I called for a runner of my own, while also taking out a pencil and paper, making a quick note. A young private arrived at a quick walk. She stopped, stood at attention and saluted in far better order than the naval ensigns had.

"Private, take this note to General Soprano," I said, "And inform her that when I say 'take up a defensive posture', I very much mean it. She is to defend territory already liberated and nothing else, make that understood to her when she complains about the order."

The private's eyes grew wide, the responsibility I was placing on her shoulders a little above her paygrade. I smiled at her to make it understood that I didn't actually hold her accountable for Soprano's actions. She did seem to relax a little at that, and I handed her the note. She saluted again, spun on the spot and exited quickly.

In case you're wondering why I would order Soprano to cease her attack, it was a matter of gunpowder. At the time, we had enough to press the attack on Starkhaven or to bombard Antiva City into rubble, not both.

As I've already said, more was being made each day, but Soprano's combat operations were taking up a lot. She was contending with a large number of forts and castles that required softening up.

With luck, the destruction of Antiva City would not be necessary and we could get Soprano moving again quickly. With that hope in mind, I turned back to Prince Ali, my demeanour now far more friendly.

"It seems destiny is on your side, your Majesty," I said happily, "Please send word to the Antivan ambassador that I will meet them, on board our flagship Océanein the harbour of Antiva City, in three days."

Three days being enough time for Fisher to arrive and get into position.

The Prince smiled widely, clearly pleased with the development. "I shall dispatch the letter at once," he said, "May the Maker bless our undertaking this day."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Splitting the chapter for sizing, the rest of the chapter should be out tomorrow.