Chapter Eighty: Pater Patria II
During the revolution that created the country of my birth, there was one man who was considered the mastermind of the military victories which led to its success; George Washington.
He kept a ragtag army together long enough for the superpowers of the world to come to blows over their own vendettas. By the end of the revolutionary war, he was unchallenged and unchallengeable in his power. There were suggestions by one or two officers that he should be made king, instead of the squabbling assembly. This Congress had been slow to pay troops and obtain supplies.
Washington would step down from all his positions at the end of the war. He returned to be President of the United States, the only man who could keep the factions from tearing the country apart in its early years.
Growing up, he was a national hero and was taught as such to us. Later, after my first term of service with the Army, I learned that others were not so in love with him. There were natives who called him the Devourer of Villages, for his previous work in destroying settlements aligned to another power before the revolution. He also owned slaves, but freed them on his death. He admitted to wanting the end of slavery, yet kept his mouth shut in public about it.
A complex man, to say the least.
It was his example I intended to follow, as a matter of principle, though he too wished to retire to his estates and his family for their own sake.
If our democracy was to flourish, it could not pretend to have nothing but friends in the world. Pacifism is not an option for republics, in my opinion. This was the reason I took power.
However, it could not survive the rule of a competent strongman either, if that assessment of my talents is in any way accurate. The people needed to be taught to rule, a culture of democratic government built up. That did not happen overnight.
There were compromises to be made.
Arrangements were made quickly once the decision to act had been made.
Under the premise of preparing for the coming offensive against Starkhaven and with no resistance being met in the city, I ordered the Army of the Alba to withdraw from Ostwick and to unite with the Army of the Minanter.
Along with our allies, we now had eighty thousand troops under arms on the line facing the southern defences of Prince Vael. Only about half were Trojan forces; we had managed to stand up another eight regiments of firelancers from the immigrants coming through the eluvians via Free Orlais. New troops were distributed to the old regiments, and veterans were promoted and placed to lead the new ones. The rest were allied cavalry and mounted infantry contingents.
This reorganisation was yet another reason for our delay in attacking, aside from my own plan.
The unified force, now named the Grand Army of the Republic, was almost ready to bring the fight to Starkhaven, which had rallied a hundred thousand troops for the defence of the city against us.
It wasn't like we could just leave Ostwick undefended though. We had annexed it, after all. It was a great reason to reshuffle our forces and place troops loyal to the conspiracy in charge of the city.
There were two generals willing to cooperate to launch a coup against me. The role of Julie was relatively secret among the conspirators, so there was no reluctance about motives; they genuinely thought they were removing me from power at the behest of Tam, and thus they would not be punished even in the event of failure as she would plead with me for mercy. The fact she was very public in her displays of affection for Julie and I greatly aided this belief.
The first name will probably be no surprise at all to you, dear readers. The other may do so.
Aside from these two, Tam's own Grey Wardens would be the spearhead of the coup itself. They were more aware of Julie's involvement, and the assumption among them was that it was her plan for restoring democracy. How Tam had subverted their instinct for political neutrality, I did not know, but given they were the best equipped Wardens on the planet, I can imagine.
Notable in their absence is the Navy or the Marines. The Jaderites had an independent streak and too many grievances with Julie even after the fact. We didn't fear their disapproval though, the Army would swing in behind the new order at my command, and Fisher would have no choice but to agree. So, they were excluded.
So, all we needed was an excuse to get the former members of the National Assembly, my companions and myself to the same place, but that was easy to contrive.
The Chantry Cathedral at Ostwick was the largest single enclosed public space in our possession, and thus was the most suitable location for a whole host of possible events. There was one thing that was a pretty great reason to get all the elected representatives in one place. We had created a system of three military awards for bravery, the highest of which being the medal of the Legion of Honour.
A dozen men had died and one was grievously wounded defending Ciara as she operated the heavy firelance on the bridge at the Battle of the Alba. A ceremony to grant these men the award of our highest medal was overdue, and it was appropriate that witnesses to spread the word of it be those that the people had already chosen.
Our cover story for having everything needed in one place ready, the ceremony was set for August 1st.
The interior of Ostwick's Chantry Cathedral is as great a sight as you can find on Thedas.
The floors and pillars are made of pink-red granite, flecked with black and grey, polished to such a sheen that you can see your own face reflected off of the surface if you look closely. The ceiling is a good forty metres above your head, with an even taller dome over the main altar at the end.
The roof has Serault glass sections in regular intervals. Curved silver reflectors sit anywhere the sun might reach directly to the send the light down into the chamber, no matter what the time of day or year is. Between each of the ceiling windows is a depiction of a moment of Andraste's life, painted by a master artist, and inlaid with gold particularly where they are flames involved in the scenes.
The walls beyond the pillars have more devotional artworks and windows, but more to the point are lined with huge mirrors from the ground up. These cover every inch of the walls until halfway up their total heights, and are perfectly angled to create one specific effect; to reflect the whole floor of the cathedral to make it appear to be an infinite space, an endless hall for people worshipping the Maker.
Given that the objective of the Chantry is to have the Chant of Light sung at once all over the world, this is entirely fitting a piece of engineering: One great big display of universality.
The architects must've adjusted the mirrors to the millimetre, there wasn't even a hint that they were even slightly askew, the illusion created by them is very immersive indeed.
The effect of all this architecture in the middle of summer is spectacular. You practically need sunglasses inside when the windows are fully exposed to the sun, but there are awnings to adjust the light levels too. To put it another way, the place was as well lit as a movie set. Perfect for a bit of stage play.
Everyone had turned out in their absolute best clothes. Full-faced Orlesian masks for many, robes, dresses, decent shoes. They weren't as well dressed as actual high nobles, except of course for the few actual nobles like Louise. But they made the effort. Even my personal bodyguards; Avvars in furs and silverite, Foreign Legionnaires in ceremonial Tevinter armour that made them look like jesters.
Julie was present in the ceremonial robes of a Libertarian mage, ornate but as loose fitting her usual one. I joked that she looked like a walking mattress/blanket combination in it, and got a kick in the shin for my trouble. Tam wasn't present, her part required her late arrival.
Of course, I bucked the trend and came in my Earth combat uniform, including my Kevlar, my firelance, and my turquoise beret retrieved from Soprano for the occasion. Reinforcing my military position as opposed to taking on the airs of a genuine Emperor was the goal, the less regal I looked the better.
Grand-Cleric Brandon sang the Chant in praise of Andraste's victory to start us off, the Chantry sisters loyal to her following her lead and the local Chantry clergy nowhere to be found.
I then summoned the only living recipient-to-be of the day, the sergeant called Jerome Delacourt, to my position in front of the altar. He would stand for the others as much as himself.
The medals of the Legion of Honour sat in a row on top of the stone, the ceremonial flame sitting in a bowl at the centre of the white marble piece making them sparkle as it waved about.
These were white-gold crosses with a sapphire set in the centre, surrounded by a ring of red garnet backing on which was inscribed in silver the words "Honneur et Patrie" on top, Honour and Fatherland, and "An I de la REP", the first year of the Republic.
On the back was a serial number and the name of the recipient. Each was attached to a red-white-and-blue ribbon, to tie them around neck of the wearer, and had a clip to attach to a front pocket as well.
This was one of the things the goldsmiths had been working on for Julie. They were not cheap, and I should know because I paid for them out of my own pocket as opposed to using state funds. I figure the morale boost would more than make up for it by increasing my chances of victory that little bit.
Jerome Delacourt made his way up the central aisle of the Cathedral, in his standard Marine blues and wearing an black eyepatch over his missing left eye.
The families or partners of his fallen platoon-mates filed in behind, in their own best clothes, though these were not the high and mighty of the Assembly. Most of the dead were young men below the age of 20, so it was mostly parents that had come, though there were two wives, a husband and a lover too, it seems.
They were gently directed by my bodyguards until they formed a semi-circle in front of the raised platform the altar sat on, Delacourt in the middle of it directly in front of me. I was soon joined by Admiral Fisher on my right. As Delacourt was a Marine, then Ciara and Armen, who were the people who the Marines had defended.
Fisher had turned out in a ridiculous outfit, a thoroughly outrageous admiral's uniform with a feathered had and knee-high black boots, and he had a sea-monster mask on. Ciara and Armen were dressed similarly to myself, in Earth uniforms; British Army jackets with the patches replaced with our own insignia, Kevlar armour, khaki berets and the shorter British firelances.
I cleared my throat, looked out at the gathered ex-National Assembly, and began to recite the speech I had written a week previously from memory.
"In the short time since our arrival on these shores, there have been many battles. Every man and woman has done their duty. There are those however that have performed acts of valour and extreme valour in the face of the enemy, far and beyond the call of ordinary duty, that the Republic must recognise."
I looked down at Delacourt.
"It is my pleasure and honour to read now the citation of enrolment into the Legion of Honour of Platoon Sergeant Delacourt," I began, before taking a pause. My voice had echoed through the cathedral like the voice of God, and it had startled me for a second. But I soon recovered.
"And the posthumous enrolment of Corporal Gabriel Lucroy, Lance-Corporal Quentin Clérisseau, Lance-Corporal Jordan Beaugendre, and Privates Milo Léger, Claude Boudier, Maxence Poulin, Valentin Pierlot, Alphonse Calvet, Fernand Cochet, Rémy Gicquel, Augustin Boulanger, and René Mallette."
Names I still remember today. I checked my recollection versus the citation itself, and found myself pleasantly surprised when I came to write this part. It is sometimes strange, the things that stay with you through the years when others have left your mind.
Ciara moved to me, holding out a scroll with a wax seal on it. I knew the citation itself by heart too, but it was part of the show. I made the gesture of unrolling the thing and reading from the page directly. It was expected.
I began by describing why Platoon-Sergeant Delacourt's Marine unit had been at the Battle of the Alba, how his platoon had taken heavy casualties before in a fleet battle off of Jader. There had been a boarding action against a royalist Orlesian ship that had got his lieutenant killed along with basically half the platoon. The Marine regiments in general had gotten pretty badly beaten up in a number of actions.
The record of the battle itself was next. Delacourt's platoon had been assigned to the longship Liberté and had helped cut the path through the forest which had delivered the Marines and their ships to the pontoon bridge via the river. His company had been assigned to protect Ciara and Armen, and the machinegun they had.
When Ciara and Armen opened up on the Qunari with weapons designed for a battlefield technologically five centuries in the future, their officers immediately recognised the threat. It would be a bit hard to ignore, given that tracers would've been flashing in front of their faces and bullets ripping through their subordinates.
Half a regiment was tasked to destroy the machinegun nest that the Marines had set up using barrels from the longships, filled with the mud from the swamp. The mini-cannons that the Qunari carried like our firelances began booming, sending huge numbers of deadly flying objects towards the target.
That much fire wasn't something wood and mud could stop for long, and it had been pretty apparent that Ciara and Armen would soon be open targets.
Delacourt, acting without orders from higher up, commanded his platoon in front of Ciara whenever she needed to reload and asked Armen to put magical barriers around them. It was incredibly risky, and if Ciara had been a random guy, I don't think the Marines would've done it.
However, I think there is something primordial about protecting young women from being cut open that is innate to most young men. Something to do with protecting the pool of available mates, in evolutionary terms. The Marines were all men at Fisher's insistence, even if some of them were younger than Ciara herself. Boys, really.
Delacourt's platoon had thirteen marines when the battle started. By the time the Grenadiers attacked the Qunari from the rear, ending their assault to retake the bridge, only Delacourt himself was still standing. The magical barriers of one mage were not enough to protect so few from so many firelances at once.
At the end of the battle, seven were dead and the rest were badly wounded. Delacourt himself had lost his left eye. The others who were wounded would die in the days afterwards, as although their wounds were cleaned and magically healed, there were not enough mages to save many from infections.
Healing magic can knit bone and flesh, but only the Tiberian blood cleansing techniques can stop bacteria and viruses. At this time such magic was still forbidden by the ban on all blood magic, and there weren't enough mages with the skill to go around anyway.
Stepping in front of fire to protect your comrades in arms, as well as a key military asset, knowing you were likely to be gravely wounded and all without orders? That definitely qualified as above and beyond by my reckoning.
All of this I recalled aloud for the gathered crowd.
With the reason why we were all here now spoken, I called Delacourt and the families of his men to receive the medals from Ciara and Armen. The Sergeant himself was first, staying at the bottom step of the altar area while Ciara tied the medal around his neck from behind on the top one. The others came in pairs to receive the medals into their hands with a folded tricolour of blue, white and red.
I was particularly proud of Ciara and Armen's performance when each family came up. Their kind words were very well chosen, and little touches on the hands or shoulders told me they were well received too. A Trojan citizen is a soldier, and all who become citizens are well informed of what that means ultimately. There was no malice towards us, which surprised me.
Perhaps I was expecting a hippie to jump out and call me a warmonger, as if I was back on Earth. Dissent against our wars is generally more dignified than that, but I am biased.
I could not pay attention to every family directly however.
Like a sudden summer storm, there was the echoing of boots on granite as a trio entered the cathedral hall by a side door. The mirrors revealed they were led by someone with electric blonde hair. Given that Louise was off to my right somewhere in plain sight, it was pretty clear this was Mariette.
An overpowering urge to curse like a sailor came over me like being caught in the rain. Of course, Mariette, as director of the Organisation des Services Strategique, had caught wind of the coup and was proceeding at once to inform me. I glanced at Julie at the front row of the long seats, where the audience was sitting. She had noticed too.
Cursing in earshot of the families of the dead Marines would've been extremely impolite, so I bit down the words. Julie was fidgeting, as she had noticed too, so I gave a small nod to say "I've got it" and awaited Mariette's arrival.
The other two with her were harlequins, dressed like the deadly clown assassins they were, which didn't bode well for what mood their mistress was in. Where there were two, there were probably more hidden.
Mariette at least had the good sense to order them to wait behind a pillar, before she approached me from the side, regulating her speed so her boots weren't so loud in the acoustics of the place. The good sense continued when instead of trying to whisper to me, she instead handed me a note, written in the Latin script.
There is a coup attempt under way as we speak. Soprano has been informed and is mobilising units to intervene. You need to leave at once.
Annoyed at both myself for not including her and Mariette's efficiency as an intelligence officer, I frowned at no one in particular and handed her back the note.
Soprano was not a party to my plan, so she would act with absolute force if she was forced to. My own preparations for this eventuality consisted only of reducing the number of eluvians in Ostwick to a single portal, and it was controlled by Mike's troops, so there could be no mass assault on the city.
The nearest other eluvian was at the fort we established a few hour's march outside, and that was in the control of the Valos-Kas mercenaries, who were being rested away from the local populace. No need to scare the locals with truly scary Qunari in scary looking armour with scary looking weapons.
No doubt Soprano was already bringing through another dozen eluvians through the one she could put under her control, and preparing to move a division after them. We did not have much time to wrap this up if things went pear-shaped.
Mariette looked at me like I was an idiot, with one eye slightly wider than the other. Wondering why the hell I wasn't hauling ass out of there.
To answer her, I simply patted the firelance hanging off the combat webbing on my front, and pointing to a position beside me. That got the better of Mariette's restraint, and she hissed a curse under her breath which did carry some distance. A few heads turned to her in response, but she ignored them and took her place by my side, waving her harlequins to stay put too.
Another one of my parts in the ceremony was coming up, and I moved to the fore again to take it up.
"Sergeant Delacourt, aside from the medal we have awarded you," I stated, "Is there anything I can do for you and the families of your men? Any other reward I can give you to repay your service?"
The question had been pre-arranged... but the answer was not. He could've asked for anything, including stuff like ending the war early or something. Lucky me, he made it easy... but still managed to surprise me.
"I would like to resign my post and take up a trade," Delacourt said, without great emotion, "I understand that we are at war and..."
He looked at Admiral Fisher, clearly indicating that the Jaderite was not fond of people wanting to quit. But Fisher wasn't in charge. I was.
"Consider it done," I interrupted, loudly, "In fact, I will go further. I will allow you to retire on half pay for the rest of your life, and to the families of your men, they will also receive the appropriate half pay for their sacrifice for the next forty years." The man was about the same age I was, and could expect to live a long time.
Delacourt's single visible eyebrow rose, while the families of the slain looked between each other. "Thank you, Imperator," the sergeant said, "I stand relieved." He stood to attention, and snapped off a perfect parade-ground salute.
An unusual thing for a Marine to do, given such things were not generally trained into them. The Navy had its own discipline and traditions.
I returned the salute, and we both put our hands back down at the same time. Delacourt withdrew with the families without a word, to take their seats.
"I would ask all of you to make sure everyone knows that good service is rewarded," I declared, "But for now, I would speak to you all about the war."
This was the signal. Julie tapped a member of her fraternity. The man quietly got up and left, moving to the same door that Mariette had entered through, though he was wearing padded slippers and his footfalls didn't make any sound. Meanwhile, I talked to the Assembly.
"The enemy remains resolute, his army still outnumbers our forces, and will until our Tevinter allies join us. He have begun using new tactics and weapons to counteract our obvious superiority in firepower."
This would've been new information for them. The non-combatants were not generally well informed of affairs at the front, as the printing presses we had were too busy churning out administrative stuff for the journalism industry to have re-emerged, save for Julie's own works.
"Trenches and earthen forts have sprung up in a ring around Starkhaven, and intelligence has reached us about enchanted weapons and armour being produced by the loyalist Circles and the dwarva Merchants Guild in Hasmal and Tantervale by the thousand. Prince Vael is preparing for a fight to the death."
There was murmuring at this, which would've seemed not particularly loud anywhere else but was amplified by the architecture around us.
"I have taken a number of measures in response to this," I continued, "Production of artillery and grenades has been increased. Drilling on stormtrooper tactics has been instituted. We will also wait for our Tevinter friends to join us, so we can bring the maximum force to bear when we will assault the defences."
This would require a delay of about a month, as the combined legions of the Imperium were still chewing what was left of Nevarra's undead hordes. It was absolutely the correct decision militarily, assaulting fortified positions was a recipe to get half my army destroyed and having even more mages to use as flamethrowers and barrier generators would make it much easier.
But it meant I would keep my nebulous position as Emperor still longer, or so it would seem to the ex-Assembly. It served to stir up a little more unease at what I was doing politically. People wanted the war over with, not continuing. Considering the promised elections had not materialised yet, hopefully this was enough to crush any last minute doubters.
"With victory and peace coming, we will need to consider our future carefully," I said, with theatrical timing.
BANG BANG BANG
The main doors of the cathedral boomed, as something hard hit them three times in quick succession. The entire hall craned their necks and leaned over the back of the pews to see what was happening. They certainly hadn't expected such a thing, as it implied some sort of hostile act in the middle of a city firmly under our countrol.
Time to put on my Oscar winning performance.
My firelance was up at once, the barrel aimed at the doors over the heads of the audience. Ciara's weapon followed suit a split second later, as she stepped up to be level with me then took a knee to better stabilise herself.
The rest of my guards got the hint, and began crowding around me, as Julie produced another British-pattern firelance from under her voluminous robes. Mariette's daggers practically flew into her hands, as her harlequins dispersed to the columns, to ambush whoever might come on her command.
So far so good.
BANG BANG BANG
The doors positively rang with the impacts now, the acoustics making it sound like God himself was pounding on the dark varnished oak. The doors were not locked however. There would have been no reason to lock them, even if I wasn't expecting visitors.
With the last bang, one of the doors moved ever so slightly ajar, and it seems those wishing entry finally understood that they were not barred. Both of the giant wooden slabs began swinging on their hinges, being pushed aside by two soldiers, slowly revealing what was beyond.
Illuminated by the brilliant sunlight from above, Mike and Le Carré stood in front of a column of troops, a hedgehog-like mass of green uniforms and silverite bayonets. Behind the former, a standard bearer held up the Tricolour of Troy. Behind the latter, another held the Stars & Stripes of Free Orlais.
Mike's presence should be no surprise to you, dear reader. The diminutive she-elf was by far the least comfortable with my seizure of power.
According to Tam, she greatly feared the precedent it set and saw it as a betrayal of everything we had talked about. She didn't really believe I would give up power either. Whether or not this meant she thought I would need to be killed, I do not know, but voicing such an opinion around Tam wasn't likely to be good for your health, so Mike likely kept shut about it.
Can't say Mike didn't have a point. For all she knew, my rhetoric was just a cover for keeping absolute power, and my coup was a final declaration that I didn't trust the people of Thedas to rule themselves after the disappointing decisions of Velarana.
Le Carré, the Saviour of Halamshiral, had other motives.
He had stood against royalist sieges for months on end before we relieved him and transported the population of Halamshiral to Jader, along with his troops. He had signed up with the Free Army to liberate Orlais, not to create what he saw as an Orlesian colony in the Marches.
Ideally, he wanted us to abandon the project entirely, return to Jader and sweep both the Valmont and the Chalons armies out of existence, but that was an unrealistic goal. He would settle for a re-prioritisation of our objectives, placing Orlais ahead of a lengthy occupation of Starkhaven, Tantervale and Hasmal.
"Guards, shoulder arms!" I commanded, with a frown, lowering my own weapon. I had been expecting the Grey Wardens to come first, not the Army's troops.
This was a more dangerous situation, but I figured playing along was the wise choice. No reason to give anyone an excuse to get Trojans firing at Trojans, though I could imagine Tam's fury at the sudden change of plan.
Mike gave a wave forward, and the column entered the cathedral in formation. The outer ranks soon split off and began moving on the outside of the colonnade, past the mirrors. The harlequins' clown-like masks turned at once to their master, awaiting an order.
"Sam..." Mariette warned from the side.
"Let's see what they want," I replied, before adding something more quietly, "We've got plenty of hostages, after all, if my guess about it is right." I gestured to the former representatives non-chalantly.
Mariette snorted, in a rather unladylike fashion, mollified and amused by the ruthlessness of my suggestion. She must've made some sign to her assassins, because they immediately sheathed their weapons and walked quickly to join her. The visible ones anyway.
In the mean time, Mike and Le Carré began up the central aisle with their troops, Mike ever so slightly in the front, indicating her leadership in the conspiracy among the Army officers.
As they reached the section of pews where the Assembly members were sat, the troops stopped and stepped into the rows behind, facing the aisle in a guard of honour formation. A protected corridor for the conspirators to retreat through... as well as a passage for the star of the show to make her arrival down.
Mike stopped about level with the second row of pews, eyes full of defiance as she looked up at me. Le Carré was harder to read, his face was unemotional and his eyes were busy scanning my guards rather than being directed at me.
"General Hunt, we come in the name of the people to restore the rights you have taken from them," Mike declared, her loud voice booming as much as the doors had, "And to depose you as Emperor."
Of course, if they had any sense, they would've just attempted to physically arrest me right there and then. But of course, Tam and the Grey Wardens would have insisted otherwise, pointing to the coup's greater military strength in the city as justification for attempting a more dignified approach.
The silence that followed was one that let you hear your own heartbeat.
I found it a struggle though, mainly because I found the situation hilarious. They were my puppets, acting out a scene I had written. My powers of manipulation are not to be bragged about, I understand the stick more than the carrot, but I was thoroughly enjoying the unfolding of my plan. They were puppets on my strings.
Unfortunately, my amusement must've shown on my face somehow, despite my thinking I had hidden it, because Mike's face contorted with anger.
"This is not a joking matter, sir!" she insisted.
"It is a little," I replied, "You're forgetting I accepted no title. It was everyone else who started calling me by that title. I've only called myself it in the presence of the Marchers, because they wouldn't understand my true position."
And because it was a title of prestige that helped me legitimise my actions as a legitimate sovereign. The reality is that nothing I had done was unprecedented, only the methods and technology used were.
"You can't abolish a position that doesn't exist," Julie agreed, chiming in and stepping with difficulty to a position just below and in front of me, where the steps up to the altar began.
"You forget that we have access to the history of your world as part of our induction as Generals," Mike replied, "Did you think we would miss the parallels with the Emperor Caesar Augustus? Who held no formal position yet controlled his empire through sheer authority alone?"
Oh, that was clever, I thought. The history of Earth was not common knowledge at the time, and by calling on it, Mike was showing that she had been inducted into such mysteries and thus knew better than most of the Assembly. Legitimising her cause by calling on my own world's secrets, the secrets that gave me the power I had.
"So you're going to depose him because of something that happened on another world?!" called a voice from behind.
I glanced over and found it was Velarana of all people. That had been unexpected, even though I did think she'd actively try and defend the situation she had created with her own policies. She was sliding out of the third row, behind the families of Delacourt's marines, to join Julie. She marched past Mike and Le Carré without a care, and spun on the spot to face them when she had reached her destination.
"No, we are going to depose him because of what he taught us," Le Carré said, "That there is power in a people's union, and that this is the only source of legitimate authority. The days of listening to some great man or woman dictate how our government and lives work are over. In Orlais and in Troy."
"I have no problem with that," I stated, "But the people's representatives did a shit job of finalising the constitution, and our enemies were almost on top of us by the time I dissolved the Assembly. The Qunari were mere days from attacking the city, and it's pure luck we were able to intercept them."
Fighting the Qunari in the dense forests along the eastern end of Valhalla would have been far more difficult for a number of reasons, not least that our artillery advantage would've been completely neutralised.
"You promised elections to resolve the matter of the constitution," Mike retorted, "Where are they?"
"Being prepared," Julie answered at once, "The ballot papers are already being printed. The fraternities have already been campaigning." The part about the papers being printed was true, but no one had any way to confirm it right then and there.
The former representatives were well aware of the campaigning though, and there were murmurs of agreement to Julie's statement, particularly as Velarana had added her own weight by nodding.
Mike scowled, not believing a word of it. She had good cause. The war was almost over. It was proving more difficult to organise an election than it was to organise the defeat of Antiva and most of the Marches. Ironically, that should probably be expected from a society that is designed around the military.
"Regardless, General, your one-man rule of Troy is at an end," Le Carré said, "Emperor or not."
"The National Assembly is returned to power at once!" Mike declared, over her shoulder, "As is the former government; Lady Velarana, you are Chancellor once more. General Hunt, we demand that you submit yourself to the authority of the Assembly and command both the Army and Navy to do so immediately."
Fisher spluttered with rage, not at the specific request but at the idea that I could command him like that so easily. The Navy's independence was something he guarded fiercely. But he kept quiet, as his own granddaughter was quiet and she had just been restored to her position.
"I refuse to be named Chancellor without an Emperor," Velarana replied, "The Republic cannot survive being so different to the other realms, nor can it survive its own factions without a unifying figure." This I had expected. Counted on, even.
"We anticipated that you would say this," Le Carré said smoothly, "We are going to formalise the office you speak of, define its powers. The papers about it have already been distributed." He held up a stack of documents.
And here is where Julie and Leha's hard work came into play.
"The Grey Proposal?" Velarana asked, with faux-surprise, "That was you? I thought it was the Marquise."
She was referring to the proposals we circulated, named as it was not 'black and white' in what sort of system it intended to make. At its core, it was a proposal to create an office of Empereur-Président, with broad powers, complete with succession rules and exact delineations of responsibility.
The title can be translated as Emperor-President, or Emperor-Presiding if you used a more archaic understanding of the latter word.
"No, I just had it printed," Julie replied, "Business is business. Didn't think I'd have it thrown in my face with troops backing it up, though."
Le Carré bowed from the waist to her slightly, in apology I thought. Not that of a commoner bowing to a noble, certainly.
"Your proposal could work," Velarana conceded, turning to Mike, "If that's the only way to bring this whole affair to a peaceful conclusion."
"It is," Le Carré confirmed.
Her acceptance of the proposal was not guaranteed, and it was one of the risks of the plan. Particularly as I had no intention of taking up the post of Emperor even if it did have President tacked on the end of it. Time to throw the wrench into the works.
"If you think I'll be taking a political office, you're kidding yourselves," I said, in Common rather than Orlesian, "If other people want to call me Emperor, I can't stop them, but I'm just a soldier fighting a war. It's what we need right now, but not forever."
"We anticipated that response too," Mike shrugged, before giving a hand signal, "Not that all of us would want you as Emperor at this point, even if we want you to remain as the Commanding-General. Which would be a matter for the Chancellor, really."
A runner broke off from the troops arranged in the pews, slinging his firelance over his shoulder as he did so. He ran straight out of the main doors and turned out of sight in the direction of the place we had put the eluvian. Run, Forrest, run.
"You see, the Chancellor was correct in saying that Troy needs a strong leader it can look to in a crisis," Mike explained, "Someone capable of stopping the two most powerful people in the Republic from taking over completely..."
She looked pointedly at Julie, before there was an objection about her trying such a thing.
"There is no one like that," Velarana said, "His Excellency commands the loyalty of the Army..."
"Apparently not," I interrupted, pointing at the troops of the Dragoons all around the cathedral.
"Three dozen soldiers does not an army make, sire," Velarana smiled, before continuing, "As for the Marquise, she is so wealthy that she has funded the entire Republic until now with her loans, and commands much respect for her writing and inventions."
"Your point?" Mike asked, before adding the correct term of address as an afterthought, "Lady Chancellor?"
"My point is that if his Excellency and the Marquise wish to command the Republic, I can't stop them," Velarana said, "Even against one of them alone, ultimately, I would be Chancellor in name only if they should wish it so. And I am head of the largest fraternity. What chance does anyone else have?"
Bright reflections and movement coming from the main doors caught my attention, and I did my best to seem amazed at who was coming through.
"Seems like someone has a pretty good chance," I said to Velarana, as the last group invited to the party arrived, fashionably late.
It was Tam, in Warden mage robes, her silver-blonde hair in a single French braid curling to her shoulder. She was at the head of every Trojan Grey Warden in the Republic; a formidable force indeed. Bethany Hawke was beside her, as her second in command.
The silverite of their armour, robes and firelances glittered like damn discoballs, showering the surfaces of the cathedral with points of light that moved with their bodies.
And if you don't know what discoballs are, I weep for your lot.
Tam strode into the cathedral, one hand atop the butt of a German-pattern Earth firelance, with was hanging from straps to one side, her other hand on her baby bump, which was probably necessary given how far along she was. Despite that, she didn't seem to move with great difficulty or was being very effective at hiding it, and entered the interior with great dignity.
Though having heavily armed people at your command always gives you a certain gravitas. I was just glad they were all got out of the beams of the sun, because looking at them was like looking at a damn flashing laser pointer.
Given the glare she was directing down the central aisle as she came, Mike and Le Carré were not in Tam's good books. The Wardens didn't march in a neat column, they just came in a big clump behind, weapons held ready to use rather than in any parade grip.
Tam went straight down the passage of the guard of honour, Bethany in tow, as her Wardens shoved past the dragoons providing said guard a little more roughly than I would've expected. Clearly the coalition against me had its cracks, but that didn't matter as I had no intention of trying to smash it.
I descended the steps to join Julie, through my bewildered guards. Behind me I could hear Ciara, Armen and Mariette padding behind me,
"Have you had your fun?" Tam asked, the question directed at the two rebelling generals.
"We have," Le Carré confirmed, before Mike could incur Tam's considerable wrath and sprout thirty bullet holes as a result, "I apologise again for delaying you, but we needed him to understand that this wasn't just you commanding us. That we represented ourselves and the people." The 'him' in question being me.
Of course, it was a wide open question whether or not a majority would have supported my deposition. Not one we intended to get an answer for though.
"Lady Tam is the only person neither of you would crush in pursuit of your principles or power," Mike said to me, "She was trained to rule by the Qunari, it was her idea to found a new city, and most importantly, she has kept herself out of the political fray that has engulfed us."
Satisfied by Le Carré's diplomatic answer and Mike's words to me, Tam stopped beside Mike and put her hand on the general's shoulder.
"The time of crisis is over, the revolution is successful," she said, looking between myself and Julie, "Time for you to share your burdens, my loves. That is all the good general asks. She has done all this not out of hatred, but out of love for everything we stand for."
A more powerful defence against my supporters or myself from tearing Mike limb-from-limb later could not be imagined. With Tam backing Mike up on principle, there could be no consequences for her. Le Carré was in more danger though.
All eyes turned to Julie and I once more.
"This isn't a burden I'd want to share with you," I said, "With anyone I loved. God knows it's been hard enough with Julie in the mix." Acting is pretty easy when your lines are the truth.
"It would not all be on my shoulders," Tam replied, raising her arms up to either side of her an inch or two, "There are a hundred and sixty others ready to take a share of the responsibility, and there will be even more when the representatives of our new citizens are elected."
The Trojan population was now many times times larger than it had been originally thanks to refugees from the War of the Lions in Orlais, not including the huge numbers of ex-slaves filing into Hercinia from the Tiberian estates in Tevinter. Which meant most of our population hadn't voted in their lives.
"What about our enemies?" I asked, on cue, "What happens next time they plot to destroy us and the representatives disagree on the best course of action?"
"The Empress-President has the right to declare war," Le Carré said, "In the event of a deadlock in the Assembly, she will be able to command the military to act or call immediate elections or both."
"What happened before will never happen again," Mike added, "Every justification you had for seizing power is now irrelevant."
Well, except the one where most people in Thedas didn't know their ass from their elbow, but frankly, that was true back home too. As Churchill once said, the best argument against democracy is a five minute conversation with a voter. Well, actually, he didn't say that, but it's a pretty common false attribution.
"Okay then," I said, "I have just one last thing..."
"Yes?" Le Carré said, clearly becoming impatient.
"You're in some deep shit, Generals," I smiled, all venom, "That much is obvious. There's a reason you haven't simply arrested me, why you've enlisted the support of the mother of my child... You don't have anything like the support you need to pull this off without me going along with it."
I moved my firelance back into my grip, though I didn't point it anywhere.
"Unless I agree to step down," I mused, "General Soprano is going to come down here with an army of monsters to eat you all alive. And that's assuming she gets here first... May God have mercy on your souls if Aurelia Tiberia Valentina gets her hands on you instead."
The whole future of the Tiberii dynasty supposedly rested with me, after all.
"I would expect nothing less than a reminder about that from you," Mike mused right back, "But I do know you better than that. We could imprison you all, in the unlikely event of your lack of cooperation."
There was an audible click to my right, the sound of a firelance safety being turned off. A quick glance confirmed the obvious; Ciara had her weapon trained right at Mike.
"You're welcome to try~," my companion said, sing-songing the words. A certain amount of pride swelled in me at her, and dread also; Ciara now had the sense of humour of the Poor Fucking Infantry. Worse, Louise soon had her sword out and the sound of firelances being cocked to fire began to be heard from all around.
I wanted to laugh. Mike actually did laugh, the sound echoing through space to the consternation of the crowd. Including me. It was unsettling how calm she was.
Grand-Cleric Brandon must've been set to slow-boil in the corner and finally popped her lid as her patience with the situation came to an abrupt end.
"Enough of this!" she said, storming quickly over so fast her hat struggled to stay on her head, "You are comrades, not enemies. You have had a disagreement, a deep one, but now there is a bridge between your positions. Use it, or you will destroy everything you have worked for and Andraste will damn you for it forever!"
True enough. There were enough battles in the world without us starting another in a chantry.
"I suppose you do have a point, Mother Brandon," I sighed, theatrically, slowly pushing Ciara's weapon down again. In her enthusiasm, she had pushed us a little too far off-script and a little too much towards a truly bad Mexican standoff. With that, almost everyone else calmed down.
"Does that mean you will accept this?" Mike asked, "You will give up your political authority?"
I held up my hand, like I was swearing an oath.
"Yes, I relinquish my position as head of state," I replied, "I never wanted it in the first place. I know you were disappointed when I took it."
"I was," Mike agreed, "But everyone deserves a second chance. You gave me mine, by pulling me out of the life I had before, now I'm giving you yours. You do not know how happy I am that you are taking it."
A cold sort of anger washed over me for a moment, as the temptation to reveal my manipulations pushed its way to the front of my mind. It seemed arrogant of her to think she was giving me a second chance at anything. Reason quickly reasserted itself, however. She didn't know I was actually pulling the strings, after all, and if it helped her to believe otherwise, it was all the better.
"High-Chancellor," Le Carré said, "You are restored to power. Would you kindly call a vote?"
Velarana gave a single nod, finally conceding. There was no arguing with the coup leaders, clearly. With an apologetic look at me, she turned to the audience, themselves restored to their positions as representatives.
"I call a formal vote to accept the Grey Proposal as the national constitution of the Trojan Republic, all those in favour raise their hands!"
Entire rows put their hands up, as Libertarians, Aequitarians, Lucrosians and Jaderites all expressed their desire to return to democracy. And, just as much, their desire not to be gunned down by Mike's troops. Julie, Armen and Ciara joined in, with false reluctance. I put my hand up for the hell of it, though I had no vote.
There was palpable relief in the air, that bloodshed and division had been expelled at last.
That is how the so-called Grey Constitution was adopted. To put it in the terms of the political science of Earth, it made Troy into a parliamentary elective monarchy, but I won't bore you with more details at this juncture, I'll simply bring up them up when they become relevant.
Needless to say, it was not really the glorious re-seizure of the people's power, so much as a giant theatrical performance designed to give some of it back to them. And more importantly, to let them believe that patriots had taken it back for them.
By now, the truth of this cannot damage our country, but given the amount of ink spent on talking this moment of our history up, I'm not sure many will believe this tale even if you showed them all these volumes.
The best was yet to come.
"Lady Tam, will you accept the title of Empress-President of Troy and Hegemon of the League of Ansburg?" Velarana asked.
"I will," Tam replied.
"I call a formal vote to accept Lady Tam as Empress-President!" Velarana called once more, "All those in favour, raise their hands!"
Once more, every representative put up their hands, this time with far more genuine enthusiasm. There was indecent haste in some quarters, in fact. Tam's popularity was independent of both my own and that of Julie. Every parent knew her at least in passing, as she never really stopped being a tamassran and had made a point of transmitting superior Earthling and Qunari knowledge on numerous points to them.
She had literally been out there shaking hands and kissing babies since we departed Orlais. There's no better way to gain political support for nothing, except perhaps to attend random funerals.
"The motion is carried," Velarana reported to Tam, "I will now administer the oath of office."
Velarana read the words of the oath quietly to Tam from a piece of paper handed to her by Mike, who repeated each line loudly.
I, Tama Augusta-Hunt, swear to maintain the integrity of the territory of the Republic,
To respect and enforce respect for freedom of religion, equality of rights, political and civil liberty,
To maintain the institutions of the State as created by the National Assembly;
And to promote government in the interest, happiness and glory of the Trojan People.
Short but sweet, always the best thing where speeches are concerned.
And like that, I handed the baton off to Tam, and left it a little bit lighter than it had been when I was carrying it.
"Who is to stand beside you as your consort, my Empress?" Velarana asked.
Tam looked to our mutual love. "Julie Hunt, Marquise de la Fayette," she replied.
Julie being the one who brought us together, I felt it only fitting that she be the formal consort. It was going to be something to see her on Tam's arm at formal occasions and the looks of disgust when the nobles of a number of states had to refer to her as Her Highness. Not that she'd ever refer to herself that way.
Velarana smirked, knowing exactly why that decision had been made even if she didn't know who had made it. "Julie Hunt, do you swear to aid the Empress-President in fulfilling her duties with all your strength?" she asked.
It was a more difficult question for Julie to answer, because helping Tam really meant not interfering directly in the political arena, not following her natural instinct to hurry things along towards greater liberty or towards all-out attack on the tyrants of Thedas.
But Julie kept her word, and declared it.
"I so swear," she said, before giving a wave to the side, "And I have prepared a gift." Time to reveal her role in the plot, in spectacular fashion.
The man she had sent out of the cathedral earlier had returned, with an decorative box under his arm that I recognised. We had looted it from the enemy camp at Sahrnia, and it had originally contained a very fancy mask. It held something far more beautiful that day in Ostwick, however. The box was opened and held so that most of us could see.
Inside its padded sides was a crown; a circlet of gold and silver arranged like an oak wreath crown. However, this weave was not of golden leaves, but of gold eagle feathers with silver tips. Along the side-rim of the crown at the stem of each feather was a triplet of small gems; one ruby, one diamond, one sapphire; red-white-and-blue.
The Crown of Feathers is its name, because the powers of the Empress are supposed to rest easy, though it has another title; the Crown of the Eagles. Don't need to explain the symbolism there, I hope.
If you are from Earth, the best way I could get you to visualise it would be to look up the work of Jacques Louis David, particularly the paintings of Napoleon wearing his crown of golden laurels. If you're on Thedas, a replica is on display in the Palais de la Liberté.
It was expensive as all the Legion of Honour medals put together, but it was a symbol of the state, so the now-gigantic national treasury facilitated its creation. One indulgence I took as despot, I guess. I didn't feel guilty about such an embezzlement at all, given its role.
This was the first time I had seen it at all, and it was truly excellent work. Hearth had been a home to many artisans and skilled workers, and they had come with us to the Marches. The goldsmiths and jewellers had outdone themselves, though they were being paid handsomely for it so I expected nothing less.
Julie took the box and climbed the steps to offer me the crown, but not for my own head. I knew immediately what she meant by it, though we had not planned it. I picked it up out of its box, and turned it about in my hands, inspecting it. The design surprised me; it even had small cut-outs in the bottom so that its true owner's horns would help keep it on her head.
"Tam..." I called out, turning my attention back to her from the magnificence in my palms, "Would you..." I gestured with a few fingers for her to come closer.
She gave a nod, and approached the bottom of the steps while I moved up onto them again. Mike and Le Carré quickly got out of the way to allow her through, as did my guards, who all backed off a respectful distance in something like a daze. If someone had wanted to assassinate me right then and there, perhaps only Ciara would've been in a position to stop them.
The representatives began standing up from their seats, leaning over the back of the benches in front of them to see what exactly was going on. Mariette slid around behind me to a position with Fisher and Brandon, for much the same reason. Everyone was gawking at the crown like they expected it to turn into an actual eagle like magic.
I had them enraptured, and the thrill of getting away with it all began to build. It was almost over, all I needed to do was make it through the next few minutes.
Tam turned so that her back was facing me, and I descended the first few steps behind her until I was within reach.
"Wait," she said quietly over her shoulder. I paused, not moving. There was something in her voice that stopped me dead; nervousness. She was an expert at hiding that, so that was truly scary.
With the most minimalist of movements of her hand, Tam motioned Julie over. The call was answered as Julie rapidly swept past the guards and grabbed the hand that had issued it, with both of her own, holding it up and against her chest. A wordless but powerful way of saying 'Here I am'.
My role was not to comfort, unfortunately, so my way of saying the same thing was to be something else.
Tam has a good few inches on me in terms of height, which the steps eliminated, but only just. So, to start, I lifted the crown far above either of our heads, straight up. There I held it for all to gaze upon for half a minute, before I slowly brought it down again... on to the top of Tam's head. The Crown of Feathers fit her perfectly, as it was her head its padding on the inner side was measured for.
With that done, I placed both my hands on her shoulders, and leaned forward.
"Thank you," I whispered in her ear. She knew why; because I had used my power to destroy or threaten to destroy cities, for the purpose of creating terror. But terror leads to hatred, and a new ruler could benefit from the terror without being hated for it.
Julie's Machiavellian refinements of the plan had seen to it.
Without a word, Tam pulled Julie and I into an embrace, tightly but briefly, before she turned back to the generals.
Mike once again raised her considerable voice. "Hail to the Chief!," she declared in Common, before switching to Orlesian, "Hail, Tama, Empress-President of the Trojans!"
"VIVE L'IMPERATRICE!" the dragoons shouted, "VIVE LA REPUBLIQUE!"
"HOURRA! HOURRA! HOURRA!"
As they repeated the chant again and again, quite awkwardly as the noise was truly massive and reverberated around the space. Made me want to cover my ears or order them to shut up, though it wasn't likely they'd hear me.
The entire Assembly, the Generals and almost all of the Wardens took a knee before Tam, in the pews with their hands held together almost like the Christian prayer gesture, or in the aisles with their right fists clenched over their chests in the traditional chevalier salute. The families of Delacourt's Marines did the same.
This sort of behaviour was shameful, but it had been drilled into every one of them from a young age; By laws that demanded it, by chevaliers going around murdering anyone who showed disrespect. It was somehow disgusting to me that they had reverted so easily... Made me think that perhaps Julie was right, perhaps our revolution was not as secure as we thought.
Luckily, Tam was just as aware of this as I was.
She ascended the steps to the altar and aimed a pointy glare at everyone. The chanting stopped, almost at once.
"My first decree..." Tam declared, her voice booming and its timbre entirely that of command, "...is that no Trojan shall ever kneel or prostrate themselves before me. Only our defeated opponents shall kneel!"
We had not discussed anything like this. To be honest, I hadn't even considered the possibility it would be needed. If Julie had, she hadn't said anything.
Tam's instincts in these matters had always been sharp, and she had learned very well from the two of us. I knew at once that I had made the right choice. She could make decisions to protect everything we stood for without the baggage Julie and I had.
All I could think at that moment was that it was no wonder the Qunari were grooming her for Ariqun, one of the three highest offices of the Qunari Salasari... And what a beautiful fate it was that she was ours. God only knows where would be without her. Killing Fereldans by the boatload in a guerrilla war, probably.
With that command, everyone got off the floor. Which should've made me feel better, but they did it very quickly, most just as subservient as before. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose... The more things that change, the more they stay the same.
"Everyone in this place has done their duty," Tam intoned solemnly, "No one shall be punished... but this is the last time an event like this can be allowed to happen. From this day forward, it shall be the duty of every citizen to kill anyone attempting to seize power with the force of arms rather than the majority of votes."
Tam paused, scanning the room from one side to the other, as if waiting for a response. There was consternation out there... Time to put the boot in.
"Soldats, the President just gave you an order!" I roared, "Do you understand?!"
A little beauty of the title Tam had just received was that you could refer to her as President or Empress, let's you pick and choose which you prefer.
To my Earthling readers, this may be a source of confusion. On Earth, a republic was a country without a monarch. On Thedas, it refers only to representative democracies, regardless of whether or not there is a monarch involved, so the mix of republican and monarchical terms is not actually a contradiction.
"OUI, GENERAL!" came the shout from the dragoons. They were as well drilled as any, and their response was a reflex. Clearly Mike had enlisted their support without tarring me as the complete bastard she could have.
"Good," Tam said, "Generals, you will order your troops to stand down and return to their duties. They are no longer required."
"Yes, Madame-President," Mike replied, notably using the Presidential term as I had, "At once." She saluted, which got the entire dragoon contingent doing the same, before she began barking orders to form the soldiers up to leave in column.
I felt positively electrified by a mix of joy and relief. We had pulled it off. No one had died. Those who needed to be fooled appeared to be fooled, or at least they were keeping quiet if they suspected that it had been orchestrated.
I glanced up to Tam and we exchanged small smiles.
These were soon dampened by the sound of a drumbeat; specifically one for retreat. There was a commotion beyond the main doors once again, as dragoons and Free Orlesian soldiers fled into the cathedral, seemingly in a rout. I had very little doubt about what was happening.
Soprano had arrived, far faster than I would've guessed possible.
"I'll handle this," I said to Tam and Julie.
"We'll keep them calm in here," Julie replied.
With that, I began making my way through the growing crowd of worried soldiers, as Mike and Le Carré began to order them out of the way into the pews. Those that noticed me parted to let me pass, but the closer I got to the doors, the more panicked people were, and soon they were bumping into me as they were too busy watching behind them than looking where they were going.
I began to wonder just what the hell Soprano was doing to make everyone so scared, just as I managed to make it out of the doors and turn directly left towards the building with the eluvian in it. I was momentarily blinded by the August sun exiting the cathedral onto the front plaza, fumbling for my sunglasses, when I bumped into someone.
"Ah, sorry," I said to whoever it was in Common, by sheer force of habit, "Give me a sec."
There was a strange sound like wind, though I didn't feel so much as a breeze in the air. Concerned, I got the shades onto my face, and looked to see who it was.
It was Aurelia. Who else?
Her swirling magical barriers were up, which explained the wind sounds. She was wearing what I can only describe as a casual dress robe in black and blue, though for her casual wasn't very casual at all. Her naginata was in one hand, and her gladius in the other. Neither seemed to be stained by blood, thankfully.
"Sam, what are you doing here?" she asked, her honey-coloured eyes opening wide.
"Coming to see why everyone is running inside like an archdemon was chasing them," I said, with a frown, "I guess I found out why."
"But I thought..." Aurelia began, stopping to look around me as if the coup plotters were chasing me.
"Thought there was a coup under way?" I asked.
"Well, yes," said Aurelia, as she put away her sword and dismissed her magical shields, "General Soprano informed me and asked that I come through the eluvian here while she brought troops in from elsewhere."
Well, that explained why everyone ran like hell very nicely. Aurelia had probably come through with her barriers up and fireballs ready to go, and the relatively inexperienced troops guarding the eluvian decided that their firelances weren't sufficiently powerful to defeat her. Which was probably true.
"There was an attempt," I said, "It's been dealt with."
Aurelia grounded her naginata and leaned forward on it, a broad smile on her face. "You killed the generals?" she asked, suddenly impressed, "Well done, dear husband, I didn't think you had it in you."
I frowned. She had the wrong end of the stick entirely.
"No... other measures were taken," I said, with great patience, "Let's get through to the Crossroads before Soprano does anything else, I'll explain on the way."
Aurelia did not understand. Nor did Soprano.
And I suppose, from their perspective, someone had just succeeded in threatening me to do something. Not exactly a typical response on my part, as people who issued threats to me were usually met with cannonfire by this point. That sort of thing was why I wanted out to begin with.
I had to let them in on the secret, just to get them to go along with it.
Soprano was furious, and very confused as to why I would want to step down. Explaining it was not easy, but she accepted the inevitability of the situation in the end.
To my great shock, it was Aurelia who was good with it. She had apparently intended to ask me to step down, as the position of Emperor came with inconveniences from her perspective, not least in that it complicated the legal situation in Tevinter for her, but also because she didn't want me to be so tied up with affairs of state that I would be isolated from my new family.
The Tiberii were a famously close-knit dynasty, and the aloofness that most of the other magister families treated their children and heirs was unacceptable to them. Of course, this was a function of the secret they had kept for two thousand years; their Outlander bloodline.
Regardless, with their opposition defused, the new order came into being more or less peacefully.
Tam, by the grace of God and the Constitution of the Republic, Empress-President of the Trojans and Hegemon of the League of Ansburg, now reigned in Troy.
Five days later, our child came into the world, after a long labour. I'm not sure Tam would've made it without the presence of Tevene midwives. They had been brought to Troy by Aurelia for the occasion, winning her many points in Tam's book as she had commanded them about through the pain. I spent the entire time feeling helpless to the point of insanity, grinding my teeth and pacing about like an idiot. Both mother and kid survived.
But the wait was worth it. I was given a daughter, with eyes just as violet, hair just as blonde and skin as grey as her mother's own, but lacking any sign of horns. Tam named her Helen, for the mythical Greek figure at the centre of the Trojan War, said to be the most beautiful woman in the world.
I just laughed, because my daughter was simultaneously Helen of Troy and Helen Hunt. The joke went over everyone else's heads.
Julie's water broke a week afterwards, and thankfully it was a much easier birth, insofar as births can be described as easy. Perhaps shorter is a better word.
A reason to be thankful, because it spared Julie from what she had watched Tam go through and it saved me from being brutally murdered by Julie for doing this to her. She still swore it would be the first and only time she did this, that it was all my fault, and that she would only sleep with women from now on. Julie isn't as stoic as Tam is, to put it mildly.
Neither promise she kept, as she forgave me soon, for which I thank my second child profusely; Julie gave me another daughter, Roxane. She had her mother's green eyes, but my soft brown hair.
The story behind her name is also from ancient Greece; Roxana was another woman considered to be the most beautiful in the world, who married Alexander the Great, teamed up with his formidable mother Olympias after his death and possibly would've reunited his empire under her son if they hadn't both been poisoned. Roxane is the French-Orlesian version of the name.
The fondness of my two lovers for Greek tales with not-so-happy endings aside, I was incredibly happy.
I thought given all that had happened, my feelings could not possibly change, but they did on immediately seeing Helen. It sort of strange excitement mixed with a terrible weight of responsibility. It grew still more with Roxane, and I knew from the first moment I saw her that I didn't want it any other way.
Of course there were still two more such events to come in the near future... But we'll get to that.
One night, a few days after, I found myself in our room in Troy with Julie, Tam and our two daughters... All of them were asleep. It was raining hard outside, the city was getting sideswiped in the night by a late summer storm off of the Amaranthine Ocean, and you could hear the rain on the roof above.
I had just entered after a late briefing on the state of readiness of the Army. Tam and Julie were curled up on our large bed together. They had certainly earned the rest, I didn't want to disturb them... and my attention was suddenly drawn to the two baskets on the large sturdy table opposite.
Swaddled tightly in soft linen blankets within were Helen and Roxane. They too were asleep, though how soundly, I didn't know.
This was the first time I was alone with either of them. To be honest, at that age, kids look more like aliens than anything else, but only their faces were showing and they were cute as hell.
I began to get philosophical. All I could think about was what sort of world were these two going to grow up in, and how much power I had to shape that. Far more than most fathers, that was for sure. What did that mean? What was I supposed to do?
I lifted a stool and placed it in front of the table, leaned on it with one elbow and stared at the fire in the fireplace.
"Your father is worried," I whispered to them, "I don't know what's going to happen. Not sure what to do, exactly."
The fire spat a bit as some rain made its way down the chimney onto the wooden logs. It was there for light more than heat, so it wasn't very large, but it was doing its job. I always found open flames like that hypnotic, and it was working that way that night.
"But I know two things," I continued, "I love you, I love your mothers... and I'm going to try my best."
I looked away from the fire and back to my daughters... and found both of them looking at me. Their eyes were unfocused and not exactly straight, but there was no mistake. My heart clenched, and I wanted nothing more than to hug and kiss them, though Tam had advised this was a bad idea at so young an age.
So I blew kisses at them instead. Helen seemed to yawn or shift her tongue, before closing her eyes once more. Roxane sort of squinted, not understanding the gesture... or perhaps she was struggling to stay awake. Very cute. With a yawn of my own, stood up and went to set up my field hammock to get some sleep myself.
There was so much left to do.
If only I knew that forces were conspiring to rob so many daughters of their fathers and vice-versa. All in the name of godhood and correcting ancient history. Perhaps I could've acted then, before the sky sundered.
No, that is wishful thinking. It was already too late.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
I'd like to thank whoever AbstractIndigo is for their contributions to the TV Tropes page for this story, it continues to be a privilege to have people analyse my story and add tropes to there. In the next few days, I think I will add the art I have commissioned of Tam, Julie, Aurelia and Sam to the page there, but we'll see.
To the anonymous reviewer calling themselves 'Well', I hope this satisfies you! And yeah, Sam has too many damn kids... but that's what happens when you've got things people want that can be obtained through that means, whether it's power or magical immunity.