AUTHOR ALERT: It appears that almost four thousand words of the first chapter of this story went missing for two or three weeks, meaning that many people who have read and/or followed this story since then seemingly have not read about how Sam was captured and taken to Halamshiral. I must have accidentally deleted the content when I was doing an edit a while back.
It's all restored now, so if you haven't read that part, I suggest you go back and read it!
Chapter Eleven: Feudal Feuds
Armen emerged from the storeroom of the riverside tavern; a very satisfied look on his face, two barrels of ale under his arms, and his robes in slight disarray. The waitress exited afterwards, giving me a slight bow with an embarrassed smile and a blush, before scurrying off behind the bar. Again with the assumption that I am a noble, though it was deliberately cultivated in this case. I waved her off as she left, before curling my finger at our resident mage to approach.
"Trouble?" he said, as if the prospect meant absolutely nothing to him at all. He might as well have just held up a sign saying 'Doesn't matter, had sex' in big block letters across his chest. If it wasn't for the undoubtedly delicious ale, I would have punched him. Only half-jokingly, but still so he could have felt it.
"You could say that," said Tam out of the side of her mouth, her bow still at the ready for a draw, if required. There weren't any signs of armed troops, but she never was one to take chances.
"We ran into an acquaintance," Julie explained, "He recognised Sam, tried to run. Tam shot him."
"Then why aren't we being swarmed by the militia right now?" Armen asked, "Even I know that killing someone in the street doesn't tend to be welcome, Circle-raised or not." He finally started looking around for combatants. I sighed, glad at least that he had begun to think of it in terms of danger rather than humour.
"I shouted that it was royal business, bought us some time," I said, "But probably not a lot of it, so hurry the hell up before someone decides that challenging us is a good idea."
"Somehow, I do not think they are going to do that," chuckled Armen, pointing as us as the reason why, "But I get your point. Let's go get the horses."
"No, you stay by the wagon," I stated firmly, "You're the only one of us that isn't involved in this as far as anyone else knows. If we're captured before we get back, you need to get it somewhere safe and come rescue us."
I wasn't sure if I could trust him not to take the firelances straight to the Rebellion if that eventuality did come to pass, but I didn't have much choice. Someone needed to guard the otherworld technology, and taking Armen to the stables didn't seem like a wise idea. The mage took the order gracefully, at least. Probably because he could continue talking with the waitress that way.
Tam undid the restraints of our horse, a black destrier which I had named Fritz. He was a warhorse, this much was obvious to even my untrained eye. As to why he was pulling a cart, I had yet to get around to asking Armen about that. He responded to the question later with his usual amused reticence, refusing to say a word about anything related to his rebel activities.
Alas, the beautiful Qunari led the handsome horse onwards, turning heads as she did so, while Julie and myself lurked behind unnoticed for once. Though it's hardly a feat to be noticed when a woman is taller than everyone else, has clearly visible horns and she is almost half-naked from the waist upwards. More male heads turned with certainty, albeit not by a great degree. They tended to shy away again when the longbow and dagger finally crossed their attention though. The rumours had already spread.
Thanks to the distraction, we made good time to the stables, finding them in the same state of busy work that they were in when we had first arrived. Stablehands were wandering around, some cleaning the ground with brushes, others going about the place with buckets of feed. The stablemaster was sat exactly where we had left him, writing at his desk beneath the roof of the stable at the far end. He looked a little more worn out, which didn't surprise me at all, given all the shouting he had been doing before. We approached casually, Tam moving to the back to let us do the talking.
Monsieur deSelle took a moment to notice us, scribbling furiously with his feather on a piece of parchment, a stack of them sitting beside him along with a mug. His eyes rose without his face moving, before returning for a moment to the papers. He double-taked quickly.
"Ah, Ser Bonaparte," he said quickly, "You are just in time."
"Well, I thought it best," I said, "No need to clutter up your stables with my new property a minute longer than necessary." No need to hang around and get caught out by lawmen either. Or worse.
"I appreciate your consideration," he replied, "Is this your horse?"
"It is," replied Tam in my place. I winced, as the stablemaster's attention was dragged by the scruff of the neck to the Qunari. His gaze took in every aspect of her, positively drinking it in through his eyeballs. He turned to me with a shake of the head, as if he knew what sort of man I was and was exasperated by it. Not the last such assumption, which only got worse as time went on and relationships developed. I still get criticism today, from those who do not understand or don't care to. Not giving a genuine solid figurative one for such talk has reaped great dividends, at least.
"This is Tam, my personal bodyguard," I said, thinking mercenary to be too impersonal a title for my new friend. Never liked mercenaries anyway. Unfortunately, my choice of words added to his impression of Tam as a whore, ranked below Julie as some kind of exotic toy.
"A Qunari, I see. I bet she is personal," he grunted, "Do bodyguards usually dress like concubines? Are the weapons part of the fetish?" If I could have had the time to groan, I would have groaned. Irony is that I share his distaste for the sort of man who would parade around with bought women. If his assumption was not so wide off the mark, we probably could have been a lot more friendly. Instead, the inevitable happened.
Tam's wicked curved dagger leapt from its scabbard almost of its own volition, and she stepped forward to prove it wasn't just an implement for my personal amusement. Sensing the immense bloodshed to come, I put myself in front of her quickly, a pace or two from the desk. I intercepted her focus on her target, and lightly put my hand on her right forearm, inches away from the blade. Her violet eyes softened, and to my relief, the dagger slipped back to its place on her hip. I could tell she was on the very edge of her restraint, so I turned around to deal with the cause.
"That's twice you've insulted people close to me," I said to the stablemaster, "If you think it's amusing a third time, I'll have you step outside to answer for your words." It sounded like something a noble would say in such a situation, or what I thought one would say. Have to admit I enjoyed the delivery as well. I didn't get to defend the honour of beautiful women in this way often, though to be frank, they could defend their own honour with complete lethality. Letting them at him didn't fit the whole 'hiding in plain sight' gig we had going though, so it was still best to handle it this way.
Unfortunately, our ruse had been seen through and my enjoyment disappeared instantly.
"Still acting the noble, I see," said deSelle with a sly tone, "Perhaps I should fetch the magistrate. They flay people pretending to be nobles here. After that display on the main street earlier, I think you should be more careful about who you threaten."
My heart immediately dropped like a stone with the shock. I should have known he had eyes everywhere. After all, he had no shortage of minions going about business, it made sense that his reach extended past his own gates. While I stood contemplating what to do, weighing the options, one of my companions had already decided. Julie unslung the axe she had picked off the bandit chief's corpse and leaned on the pommel.
"How will you fetch the magistrate without a head?" she growled, "How will they arrest us without arms or legs?" A woman determined to never see the inside of a prison cell again, and with determination like that, I suppose telling you that she never did is probably redundant. There was a bizarre exception, but that involves nonsense resulting in the crucifixion of a Tevinter magister.
Regardless, the sentiment was a little troublesome. Unlike the huntsman in the street, killing a prominent merchant wouldn't be waved off at the mention of royalty. The stablemaster knew this too. "How will you escape with half of the garrison of the Dales looking for you?" he said, "Where will you hide?"
"Who says we need to hide?" asked Tam, her lethal smile appearing at last, "We hold the advantage here." Her dagger was out again, though it was held in a leisurely manner, like she was about to strip an animal for the cooking-spit rather than kill a man in a fight. She was quite obviously referring to my weapons, though the target didn't know it.
"I knew there was something off about you," deSelle continued, "The garb itself was strange enough, but your manners towards your mistress... I had you watched, and you did not disappoint. Giving custom to a paysan tavern barely fit for a dockhand? Killing a man in the street? Declaring it all to be royal business... The reward for bringing you in would be magnificent."
I didn't buy a word of his bravado. He thought he was smart, but he had no idea what he was dealing with.
"The last man to think that betraying me for money was a good idea is dead in the gutter less than four blocks away," I replied, "Perhaps it is better if we both conclude our business, and never speak of this again." Not sure if he understood what a block was, and I remember doubting it at the time, but he just rolled with it. Strange what you think of under pressure.
"What do I get out of that course of action?" he said, "Don't think it will be so easy to kill me before the guards arrive." There was a grain of truth in that, but I had discovered his vices. One was the same as the huntsman's failing. The other was something that fellow was incapable of.
"How about the satisfaction of a fair deal?" I said, "And if you think I'll try and kill you before the guards arrive, you're mistaken. No, I think every animal and stablehand I can find might produce more results. Perhaps I'll burn your precious stables to the ground. There must be something or someone here that you care about more than gold or your ego."
Pride and Greed, two deadly sins without mercy on those who are possessed by them. So easily exploited. Their demon counterparts are sons of bitches too, even for someone with my capabilities. The stablemaster's face sunk immediately. He knew I had him cold. Either the cost of having his entire business destroyed wouldn't be covered by the reward for helping to stop me, or he had more than a few blood relations running around.
My bet was on both, or rather, my bluff. I had no intention of killing any civilians, or putting them in danger by burning things. Apart from being against my oath to defend laws, I am not a murderer. I might have shot a few horses, if it came to it, and I had no qualms about shooting a magistrate, a servant of the foul government that I had plenty of reason to despise. DeSelle and his people were off the kill-list unless he attacked, but he didn't need to know that. The man himself stood up, and called a minion over, waiting while staring directly at me.
"Bring the two packhorses we prepared to the yard, Ser Bonaparte is ready to receive them," the stablemaster said to the young boy that arrived, "Hurry!" Apparently, he had been bluffing too, or was eager to play his threats off as a bluff in the name of preserving his livelihood. The hand ran off to do as he was told, while his boss turned around and grabbed a saddle from a table where many lay. He dumped it on the table roughly. Tam collected it, and went to place it on Fritz's back.
"Your payment," said Julie, slapping a number of gold and silver coins down on the table with one hand, hefting her axe over her shoulder with the other. It was slightly more than we had agreed upon, the intention there being easy to see. DeSelle seemed to cheer up a little when he realised the count was a little high, and nodded his understanding.
"I'm sorry we couldn't get along," I said, more or less sincerely, "But I swear, if anyone comes looking for me, you will regret it. Don't try and be smart, I am smarter. Enjoy the bonus." Always helps to add the threat of the stick when you're handing over a carrot, something I had learned long before ever coming to Thedas. The man's face was unreadable unlike before, not even his eyes gave away his true feelings on the matter. I interpreted it as defiance, but I would be proven wrong on that count.
DeSelle's subordinate brought the two packhorses along by the reins, two brown horses that were pretty much identical to each other. They both had feedpacks and some straps for attaching them to the wagon as well, as agreed. Julie took them, patting them both on the nose a little, which they seemed to like. Both the stablemaster and myself watched, as she pulled them onwards. Ignoring the both of us, she led them towards the entrance.
"They look like they could pull twice as much weight as they're going to," I said, conceding that the man was at least good as his job.
"I do what I'm paid for," he said, "Unlike you noble types."
"I thought I wasn't a noble?" I asked.
"You're not an Orlesian noble, but you're definitely an aristo of some kind," he replied, sitting down again, "My guess would be a Fereldan's second son from somewhere near Orzammar, from the accent." Little did I know that the shortened word for an aristocrat literally meant a noble who gathered up men and women with offers of patronage for the purposes of sex. Which in retrospect seems almost prophetic, if you drop the malicious intent and solicitation. Julie had used the word as an insult too, so I knew that much. However, I wasn't savvy about the slang of the country, so I just shook my head in amusement.
"I don't even know what a... Fereldan is," I stated flatly. I thought it was a rank, if I recall correctly. Orzammar I correctly guessed as a place. Never did get to visit there, come to think of it. They really don't like me these days, so I guess I never will get to either. But when you oppose caste nonsense at every turn, things tend to get heated.
"As you say, Bonaparte," deSelle replied, his voice lowering slightly as his doubts rose. Orlais really is exceedingly French. Make of that statement what you will.
I would have been eager to retort, but Tam decided to mount Fritz. The warhorse trotted around happily, with interesting effects on her person, but intriguing me in another way as well. Horse archery has a pretty golden reputation on Earth, the result of a series of highly successful invasions by plains people, and I found myself wondering if she had practice with that sort of thing. The sight was entrancing too. Before I could vocalise the question, she urged me to follow and the horse galloped across the yard to join Julie with the packhorses.
"Goodbye, Monsieur deSelle," I said, marching away without waiting for a reply.
Armen was chatting with his … lover, who was a little despondent. He had told her that we would be leaving, and to be honest, he looked a little depressed too. Perhaps weary is a better term. I was a little surprised, but I should not have been. He had been on the run longer than we had, the moment we had stolen 'his' cart from the avenue in Halamshiral was just another stage in his flight. No doubt he spent all of his time before meeting us on business for the Rebellion. So, without knowing it, I had actually witnessed his first moment of personal liberty. I thought he spent it quite well, both then and now.
Of course, the sight of Tam riding up diverted his attentions, and his paramour's too. She addressed him.
"It's time," she said, before wheeling Fritz out of the way for Julie to bring the packhorses to the wagon's front end. She made her way down the street, her eyes vigilant for any sign of trouble.
Armen stepped towards the waitress to allow them to pass, and I caught a little of his conversation as I passed to help. It wasn't a tearful moment, but there was definitely a sad tone. Her name was Ciara, not a very Orlesian name, but apparently a relatively elvish one. He promised to visit again when we had settled, as myself and Julie finally got the packhorses attached. I didn't view that idea as wise, but said nothing.
Julie and I exchanged a look as we were climbing onto the seats at the front of the wagon. She wanted to take the girl with us, was what she was trying to convey to me with it. I sat down on the wagon's bench and sighed, before consenting with a shrug. My companion smiled at me, melting my resolve further. I turned in my seat and cleared my throat, getting the attention of the two elves.
"You know, you could come with us, if you wanted to?" I said, speaking to Ciara with a grin. Armen looked at me like I was mad, but also with no small degree of happiness. Which was amusing enough to make the whole proposal worth it, I thought. She herself seemed torn, rubbing her hands together and lowering her head.
"It would be dangerous, but you could get away from here forever," added Armen, knowing something I didn't. As usual.
"Service to a noble might not be better," she said to Armen, "You're a … scholar. I'm nobody." Her accent was revealed in full, and it was bizarre. There were several parallels I could compare it to from my world; Irish, Welsh, Scottish to anyone who can understand what that means, but it was surprising. The few words she had spoken in my presence before then had been neutral.
"This man is unlike any noble you've ever heard of, trust me," smiled Armen, "He won't force you to do anything against your will." The last sentence wasn't meant as a threat, but I took it as such. There was definitely some backstory I was missing, but it seemed inappropriate to pry. It couldn't be as big as whatever Armen himself was hiding, that was for sure. Never did ask, and what little detail they betrayed in conversation is barely worth mention.
Ciara turned to me, as if looking for confirmation. Julie nudged me from behind, for encouragement. It was at that moment that I had a pretty damn good idea, if I do say so myself.
"Samuel Hunt, Marquis de LaFayette," I said, standing up on the wagon and bowing to her, "At your service, madame. We are in a hurry, so if you'd get your things, I'd be thankful." The now-former waitress blinked rapidly for a moment, before smiling and running off to find something to bring.
I chuckled a little, before sitting down again. LaFayette was a famous figure from Earth, in case you were wondering. If you're reading this, chances are there is a book about him somewhere in the vicinity. Otherwise, you'll recognise it from events here on Thedas.
As you can probably tell, I had decided to embrace my supposed image as a noble entirely. It was a problem that wasn't going to go away, I could tell, and there was little point correcting every fool who made the mistake. Better to use it to my advantage entirely. It would require more finesse than I had displayed until that point, but I was pretty confident I could pull it off. After all, I had Goldie and Red Mask as examples to draw from.
As Ciara returned with no small amount of baggage and began climbing onto the wagon, Tam returned on top of Fritz.
"Who's this?" she asked, before recognising our new traveller, "Ah, I see."
I held my breath for the objection, but it never came. She simply turned the horse and stopped, beside me. Over the sounds of Armen and Ciara getting onto the back of the wagon on top of the boxes, the Qunari leaned in to whisper to Julie and I.
"Nobles up ahead, with men-at-arms," she said, "Perhaps we should go around?"
I frowned and put my face in my palms, letting out an exasperated hiss through my teeth in frustration. Everywhere I looked, there seemed to be more bastards to get in my way. It was getting beyond irritating, edging on infuriating. I straightened up, and made my resolution.
"No, we go straight through like nothing is wrong," I said quietly, "We need to know if we're being hunted, this is the best way."
"And if they attack?" asked Julie.
"Then so do we," I replied, "Tam, don't so much as give them a look when you pass."
The horserider grinned and nodded, well aware of the reputation of her people. I hoped that she'd just look like a mercenary to anyone else. I readied my firelance to fire and set it across my thighs, ready to snatch it up and flip the safety catch off at a moment's notice.
Julie snapped the reins, and the two packhorses began pulling. Our investment had been worth every penny, we soon discovered, as they pulled the weight of the wagon and its cargo along at a very satisfactory pace indeed, though it was still slower than before we had picked up my cache. Tam went out in front, clearing the way very effectively for our passage. Other carts and wagons made way before her. I'm sure we made quite a sight as we left.
We passed the spot where the huntsman lay, his body being attended to by a priestess of some kind. Her robes were white and read, and her tall hat extended past the back of her head. I remember thinking it appropriate that the clergy of a religion with a female saviour were female themselves. This idea passed quickly, as the priestess noticed Tam, longbow and black arrows in clear sight. The woman opened her mouth, most likely to shout and condemn, but we came into sight at the same moment. Her jaw closed itself slowly, as her eyes remained transfixed to me. I inclined my head respectfully, and we moved along without issue.
We finally reached the bridge about five minutes later, which as you can imagine was what gave Gethran's Crossing its name. It was an elegant structure arching over the river enough for flat-bottomed barges to go through three-abreast if required. How it managed to stand that high without supporting arches or suspension wires, I don't know, but it was damn cool to look at. It seemed elvish to me, and I was right. I gawked at it as we approached, almost missing the large crowd of armed people beside.
I noticed them due to the sun flashing off the mask of one of the chevaliers, who was in the midst of mounting his own horse with the help of some poor fool kneeling so he could step up. His mask was silver inlaid with a yellow and black striped rim, which couldn't have been comfortable even though the heat had dropped off in the afternoon. With him were a crowd of men in chainmail covered with blue, armed mostly with swords but with a few wooden crossbows and spears among the bunch. There had to be at least forty of them, and another masked individual on horseback as well.
The finely enamelled image of a perfect face followed Tam first, and she did as she was told, keeping bolt straight in the saddle and her head pointed directly ahead. Once the Qunari had got onto the bridge itself, the chevalier looked at me just as we were right beside each other. I could see his eyes through the mask, and they were narrowed. He found us suspicious, which he can hardly be blamed for, as we were suspicious. However, as we passed, he did nothing. We soon got over the sharp incline of the bridge and disappeared from their sight.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Every fibre of my being thought that an attack would be ordered.
"I guess that word of our escape hasn't got out," said Julie softly, "Perhaps they think we're dead."
"We can hope," I replied, "But we can't take any chances."
We travelled quietly for about four more hours, through the same sort of countryside that we had seen on the approach to the village. Farmlands, hedges, peasants and livestock. All flat land, with few places to hide. I had quietly been searching our surroundings for a defensible position as we travelled, but had found nothing until that point, filling the time with small talk with Julie about my world and what she had read in the books we had recovered from the helicopter.
"What should we call these horses?" she said, suddenly veering off the topic.
"Huh?" I said, not quite following her. As she had changed so suddenly.
"These two," she said, before pointing between the warhorse and the packhorses, "You named that one Fritz, what should we call them?"
I thought about it for a moment, leaning back against the bench and the boxes behind it, before coming to two possibilities which I felt were appropriate.
"Well, this one is definitely lucky, so it should be called Lucky," I said, pointing to the horse on the left, "He passed by that noble without giving anything away, so it's a good omen."
Julie grimaced as she thought about it, before smiling.
"That works," she declared, "What about the other one?"
"Bob," I said immediately.
"Bob?" she asked back, her own accent lengthening the 'o' in a funny way. It was cute.
"Yeah, Bob," I continued, "Definitely the right name."
"Why?" Julie said.
"Looks like a Bob," I replied.
Julie started into a soft laughing fit, as I tucked my hands back and enjoyed the show. The joke being that Bob was identical to Lucky in every respect. It was another one of my crappy jokes, but she didn't seem to mind. A startled Tam turned around in the saddle to look back, and the two elves in the back leaned over the box dividing the front from the back to see. Her laughing died down after a little while.
"Ah Sam, you are funny for trying to be funny," said Julie, taking a breath.
"I do try," I replied, frowning.
Tam cursed a little in her mother tongue, turning the horse.
"Sometimes, I do not know if you are both crazy," she said, drawing up alongside.
"They are almost certainly mad," said Armen, "But so are you." Hit the nail on the head there. In my opinion. Not that he's exempt from scrutiny, but he was definitely the most level-headed of us.
"What sort of noble are you?" said Ciara, suddenly, "Are you a noble at all?" Nope, sorry. Not a drop of noble blood in my veins from either world. Just like almost everyone else.
"It's complicated," I replied, "But you can probably tell that I'm not from Orlais."
"You sound like a dwarf," she said plainly, "But you seem like a noble until you speak to either of them." She pointed at Julie and Tam.
Well of course I spoke to them differently. We had gone through a fairly dangerous prison break together, after all. I admired them both, albeit in different respects. Tam was still too terrifying at this point, despite her quirks. There wasn't any real way to convey this in real terms however, so I made the other point that was on my mind.
"I am really looking forward to meeting a dwarf," I mused, "It's driving me a little crazy that people keep saying I sound like one and I have no idea what they mean."
"Have you never met a dwarf before?" Ciara asked, her confusion growing.
"No, I have not," I said.
"You must be from very far away then," she said, "They trade everywhere I've heard of."
"Far away doesn't even begin to describe just how far my homeland is," I said with a smile, "Not to worry though, I'm hoping to go back soon."
"We're going with him," added Tam, for good measure. Her distrust of Armen had not lessened, I could tell. Ciara nodded and looked thoughtful, then moved to the back of the wagon out of my sight. Armen leaned forwards over the bench, holding himself up on his palms to talk discreetly.
"...You're not going to tell her..." he started.
"She's going to find out soon anyway," I stated.
"Why's that?" Julie asked.
"Because I'm willing to bet everything I have on that chevalier and his little army coming to find us," I said, "I don't think we're going to be able to avoid using some Earth magic."
In the evening, the heat broke and not a minute too soon. Soon after the conversation with Armen, I spotted a good place to hole up for the night. A decent sized hill with plenty of trees on it, flanked by the river and the road. It even had a path running up its side, worn down by people climbing it. With some difficulty, we managed to get the wagon to the top. With more than a little heaving from Tam, Julie and myself. No offence to Armen or Ciara, but it didn't look like either of them were good for pushing. Once that was done, there was little time for rest, even for my new elven friends.
"Why are we digging holes again?" asked Julie, as she threw a clod of dirt in front of her with the entrenching tool I had given her for the job.
"Foxholes," I corrected, copying her motion.
"Why are we digging foxholes?" asked Tam from behind me, patting down the mud in front of her as I had instructed. She was making better progress than anyone, but then, she had better endurance than any of us and could work faster.
"Why are we collecting stones?" said Armen, dumping a bunch of rocks down, "It's getting dark."
"Which is why we need to finish this quickly," I said.
"It would be easier if you just told us," Julie said, irritation growing in her voice, "We're not stupid, you know?" I had thought that the opposite would be true. We didn't really have time for a round of questions, and my apprehension about the coming fight had just grown and grown with every passing minute. The reason for which I decided to reveal, in the hope that they'd quit bitching about my bizarre orders and just follow them. I did tend to forget they were civilians rather than squadmates. So, I waited until Armen and Ciara were out of earshot and spoke to the others.
"Okay, fine," I said, "That group back in town had a bunch of crossbows, and since we don't have any shields, I was thinking that if we're going to be shot at, we should have a little something to hide in." Also might help with shrapnel.
"Why bother?" asked Tam, "The saarebas and you can kill them all before they even see us from a distance."
"We're trying to avoid more trouble," I said, "Besides, having Armen use magic will definitely bring Templar attention down on our heads." Not to mention I was entirely unsure if the mage wanted to reveal his true nature to his new charge yet. Even Julie regarded him with suspicion, it was hard to imagine that Ciara would be immediately accepting.
"So will your firelance," said Julie, digging as she talked, "I read your documents, remember? They think it is magic."
"They're more likely to send a group to investigate, because it's something they've never seen before," I replied, "They won't send numbers we can't deal with. They might even dismiss what they hear about my weapons as rumour designed to distract them from the Rebellion." I was entirely wrong with that prediction, as you will see. Probably because of how I chose to deal with this situation, now that I really think about it.
"That's true," said Armen as he returned alone, only catching my last few sentences, "The mages are hiding at Andoral's Reach far to the north. They can't afford to strip away forces from Val Royeaux, even with what you did at Halamshiral."
"So you're good to go?" I asked, clearing the bottom of my foxhole with my foot and then shovelling the detris out.
The mage frowned at me, like the question was a bad vegetable he had to eat. Which answered my question about whether or not he was conflicted about his magical skill, and whether or not to reveal it. I continued working while he looked off into the distance.
"Yes," he said finally, "If you're going to trust me, help my cause, I cannot abandon you to fight alone here." Well said, I think.
"We might not need you to do anything," I replied, "I have an ace up my sleeve for those assholes."
"Ace up your sleeve?" asked Armen, his smile returned.
"It's part of a card game," I said, "Actually, I think I might have a deck."
Some talk about poker ensued afterwards, as I conscripted Armen and a returned Ciara to the digging duties. The soil was soft, like that of the crash-site, so it was quick going. We had two foxholes big enough to fit three people a piece done in no time at all, the sections facing the hillside and path protected by the dirt we had dug up and lined with the stones. I augmented the whole thing with a few small shrubs I pulled out of the ground, so they wouldn't be able to spot the arrangement so easily. In other words, perfect cover from a bunch of peasant crossbowmen trying to kill us.
After that, I explained the plan, which caused a lot of consternation about whether or not it would work, and got everyone something to eat out of the ration packs while I went about laying down the last preparations. It was possibly dangerous work, so I didn't want the others interfering. When that was done with, I returned and opened up some of the boxes. It was time to get downright diabolical.
"Alright, gather around," I said to them, as they munched on more of my crackers. They obeyed, standing up from the circle they had made for a fire, which they had not lit yet on my order. I picked a piece of body armour and held it out.
"This is armour from my country... well, actually, it's from Israel, but whatever, take it," I said, "It'll stop a crossbow bolt easy, even up close."
Tam stepped forward and took the vest, feeling the inside of it for a moment. Her eyes widened. My eyebrow crept upward.
"It feels like vitaar flesh," she said, surprised.
"Vee-tar?" I asked, "Is that some sort of animal?"
"No, it is warpaint," Tam replied, putting on my gift and strapping herself up, "A potent poison mixed with the blood of the user, and then painted onto the skin of a Qunari. It turns into what you might call ironflesh." That right there is commitment to cause, ladies and gentlemen. Tam later informed me of the side effects, particularly if you left it on too long. Permanent scarring being the more cosmetic of them, and indeed many Qunari warriors have such scars. It's just hard to notice them as many keep the patterns they use the same over the course of their often short lives. The smart or important ones keep away from the side effects.
"Wait, warpaint..." I said, "Is that the paint you have in your pack?!"
"Yes, I was able to bring some of the basic ingredients with me when I escaped," said Tam.
"What does it do to non-Qunari?" I asked.
"Death, sometimes slow and agonising, sometimes in minutes. It depends, really," she replied, not particularly bothered by the prospect, "Do you have a helmet like yours too?"
I was speechless. Back in the prison storage room, I had opened up the chest containing Tam's effects and found the large paint pot more than a little interesting. To think that I could have died if I had investigated a little further than I had... God was smiling on me that day with more than the escape, apparently.
Shaking myself out of the idea of dying like that, I handed the Qunari a helmet like she asked. I thought the horns would get in the way, but they were small enough to tuck in at the back. A fact which would be the subject of an amusing exchange in a matter of days, but meant nothing to me then.
"It isn't the finest silk, but it will do," said Julie, as she collected her armour, "I guess we aren't going to get a private moment any time soon, are we?"
"Not likely," I replied sadly.
"Well, we'll get home quickly," she said, "It is not good there either, but there is at least some privacy."
"I hope," I replied with a smile. Though I doubted we would get privacy. Not with Tam's communal habits. I was right, but it didn't matter.
Armen and Ciara took the armour with a great deal more enthusiasm, probably because neither were real brawlers at any point in their lives. The lack of huge amounts of metal also turned out to be a good thing for our mage, as he could still wear the armour without it affecting his magic apparently. He thanked me as such. So the entire band looked positively weird, even to my eye. Sand-coloured 'cloth' armour and big round helmets, at night, in the middle of a forest. I could only imagine what it would look like to some poor peasant or to a chevalier, but I hoped they would think it ridiculous enough to charge recklessly.
Satisfied that we were ready, we all got into the foxholes with weapons and sleeping bags, turned on our radio headsets to communicate, and had some more of the food to wait for the inevitable. Tam and Julie were in my trench, the larger of the two with enough room for the former to stand up and shoot her bow over the top with no problem. I left Ciara and Armen to the second one, which was further back. Perhaps that was a bad idea, as they soon turned off their radios and began what healthy adults do when isolated together. I rather kindly put it down to nerves and let them be. I was a little busy fixing a heat-sight device to my helmet.
After a while, we sat quietly with nothing but the sounds of the forest at night and the thankfully very muted tones from the other trench. It had gotten darker, though it was still light enough that any passerby on the road could look up to see our wagon and our well-secured horses. I was hoping it would get completely dark before the nobles could find us, if they were searching at all. They would then have to travel by torchlight, which is like holding up a big sign saying 'Please Kill Me' when you're packing the sort of weaponry I was. Still, I watched along the road we came from with both my own eyes and the technology at my disposal, and no marching soldiers came.
"Are you absolutely sure they are coming?" asked Julie, out of the blue.
"No," I said, "But the look in that masked guy's eyes when we passed... he absolutely investigated who we were once we were gone, and if I was in his position, I would chase us."
"Do you think the stablemaster betrayed us?" asked Tam. The consequences of which for the man in question were written all over her tone, and I very much shared the sentiment.
"If he did, we'll find out soon enough," I replied, "I gave him a false name."
"But we have time," she said, "There are a lot of them, so they'll move slowly, right?"
"Yes..." I said, not knowing where she was going with it, "So what?"
She got comfortable before she continued, "Perhaps we should seize the moment."
"How?" I asked, naively.
Julie raised an eyebrow suggestively, and moved closer. I had to restrain myself from bursting out laughing. What a wonderfully absurd idea.
"There are people trying to kill us right now," I said, incredulous, "Besides, we're not alone."
I pointed to the third person in the trench. Tam was sat in the corner, longbow and quiver leaning against the side, listening intently with a neutral face. Which should have been a warning sign in its own right, but I was distracted enough to dismiss it as a sign of disinterest in the actual proposal.
"I know, it's a great opportunity," said Julie, glancing at the Qunari, "For all of us."
The intention was clear. This was my first experience with what I suppose you could call Orlesian polyamory, perhaps the only positive thing that emerged from the frankly disturbing attitude in that country about marriage and its purpose. It really sneaked up on me. I moved my jaw to speak a few times, but couldn't vocalise any objections. Because I'm an imbecile.
"Sam, you refused to hurt me when I was most vulnerable, and broke me out of prison. Tam, you killed the gaoler who threatened me, and stopped us from being caught," continued Julie, "You are both important to me now. We have a little time. Let's get closer."
My eyes boggled at the suggestion. "I'm very glad to hear that I matter to you," I said, "But as much as it pains me to say it, maybe this isn't the best moment." Some measure of reason was beginning to reassert itself at this point, as you can probably tell.
"It may be the only moment," said Tam. She shuffled closer too, and my temperature rose.
"Seriously?" I asked her, "You too?"
"To be honest, it's been a while since I've had any such relief," she admitted with a shrug, "We'll see and hear the bas long before they see us, so why not? The mage doesn't seem to care." I got the feeling she was protesting a little too much. She felt affection for us too, but had too much dogma to express it in words yet. I wasn't the only one to notice.
"Perhaps you and I should find another hole in the ground," said Julie jokingly, "Since we are unwelcome in this one." She took Tam's hand and made to stand up, at which point I grabbed her by a strap on her armour and bade her to sit again. The madamoiselle was always quite skilled at getting what she wanted, and I am a sucker for the guilt trip. I closed my eyes and inclined my head, giving my consent.
Julie tipped her helmet off her head and set it down behind her, letting her brown hair down. Tam followed suit, and the two knelt beside each other. What they did next finally destroyed what little reason I was still operating under. They kissed, holding each other by the hands as they did so.
It was truly beautiful. Not just from the obvious male perspective, though that was a factor, but it felt like a dam had finally broken between us after days of build-up. I knew I felt greater and greater appreciation at having both of them by my side at a time where I was utterly lost. This is probably a biased retelling anyway, considering how important they both became to me. All I know is that by the time they stopped, I was fully under their spell. My worries disappeared.
As if to signal, I whipped my helmet off my head, barely bothering to undo the straps, before putting my gloves and weapon down with it. Julie closed in and our lips met, warming my insides as if I had downed a shot of liquor. All three of us moved still closer, hands and fingers threading each other. Tam kissed our necks as we continued, and before I knew it, I was kissing her too. We all began slowly undoing the buckles of each other's armour and clothing, eager for more. We embraced each other, and placed our lips everywhere it is pleasurable to put them.
Which is to say that it was all entirely genuine.
Many have accused us of malicious intent. That I somehow collected a harem for my personal pleasure, that Julie insinuated herself with us for political gain, or that Tam was a Qunari spy playing us for dupes. Utterly wrong, all of it. If anyone collected us together, it was Julie, not me. If there was anyone who gained in other ways, it wasn't just us. The notion of Tam as a spy is beyond ridiculous, she couldn't lie without giving it away plainly on her face. These insults continue in various forms to the present day, and I have no doubt some will be repeated long after I am dead.
Let the record stand true. All three of us came together out of mutual trust and admiration. Something that had huge consequences for millions of people, possibly hundreds of millions both born and unborn, when the shit really began to happen. Like when the Breach opened. The nature of my immunity to the Fade and the knowledge I had made it inevitable. We were falling for each other, damned cliché as it sounds. I am not sure if we were in love yet, but there was deep affection out of circumstance. Hardship can build trust like no other thing. Add in lust, and you get why we felt the need to indulge each other in this way. It was all something I possibly needed, as the idea of never returning to Earth was eating away at the back of my mind.
The notion of being whisked back to the world of my birth is what keeps me up at night now.
To return to the story, we were half-undressed and were about to enter the next stage of what was looking like a particularly enjoyable evening when we were interrupted.
Horses neighed loudly at a distance, far enough away not to be our own and close enough to cause alarm. My heart nearly ripped out of my chest with the surprise, and we disentangled ourselves from the sleeping bags and each other with urgency. Clothes, helmets and armour were shoved on as quickly as possible, radios activated, and weapons returned to our hands.
"Son of a bitch, what timing," I said under my breath, before activating my comms, "Armen, are you dressed over there?"
"I never got undressed," he replied, clearly amused at the suggestion. Liar. "Did you hear the horses?"
"Yeah, give me a second," I said. I stood up to look over the edge, and placed the heat-vision device onto the front of my helmet once again. I had two types, one that could see in the dark as if it was still light and one that could see the heat of a person's body, like some animals can. It was the latter I had selected. When I activated it, I cursed loudly at what it revealed. The entire bottom of the hill was filled with the white heat of human bodies, contrasted against the black-grey background of the forest. I could even pick out their armour and weapons, heated by their exertions.
"How many?" asked Tam.
"A hundred at least," I growled, "The bastard went and got a few more friends."
"We can still beat them," said Julie, "We must beat them."
"More meat for the grinder," I said, my tone full of malice, "God help them if they come up the hill at us."
"Shouldn't we try to keep them away?" said Tam. Under normal circumstances, she would be right.
"No, if we're going to fight, they need to think they can come up that path," I said, "No shooting until the fireworks."
"Fireworks?" asked the two of them.
"You'll see," I said, "We're away from a settlement, so I can use my full bag of tricks."
I explained a little more, and we waited another while. A drumbeat sounded, and I returned my attention to the enemies below. They had formed into something like a coherent set of groups, all facing our way. They knew we were possibly hostile, I could tell, and I began to suspect they had sent someone to follow and watch us. They were lined up as if to attack a fortified position. Which was exactly what they would have to do. Either someone had observed our position or commander was very insightful. I never really got the chance to ask.
"You on the hill!" came the call from what could only be an attendant, "Yield in the name of our rightful Emperor, Gaspard de Chalons!"
"Hold on a minute!" I shouted back.
Not a word made sense to me. I could tell that their source of information hadn't been the stablemaster, as they hadn't addressed me as Bonaparte and his offer of surrender definitely assumed I was a noble. The courtroom at Halamshiral had said someone called Celene was Empress. I needed more intelligence on who I was dealing with, if I was going to negotiate. For clarification, I turned to my companions.
"Anyone know who this Gaspard fool is?" I said, "Is he the one chasing us?"
"Grand-Duke Gaspard, cousin to the Empress Celene," Armen replied, "He was robbed of the throne, or so he believes, so he plays the Game against her in the shadows. It's probably one of his vassals." I understood that easily enough.
"Love their titles, don't they?" I said, "Grand-Duke this, Chevalier that."
"Some say he's building his strength, waiting for the moment to strike," added Julie, "Tax collectors escorted by chevaliers loyal to him arrested me, and they come more regularly than before."
"Great," I said, "Why on Earth are they chasing us?"
"You said you were on royal business, didn't you?" Tam said, warming up her longbow, "They must think that killing or capturing you will help them."
I groaned, annoyed that politics was now sending hundreds of soldiers after me. Templar death squads were the worst I thought I would need to handle at the start of the day, so I was pretty depressed by the possibility of larger numbers. I didn't give the tiniest figurative one about who ruled the country, as opposed to the manner in which it was ruled and how safe we were. I had already done enough damage without involving myself in more conflicts.
As if to say hurry up, several crossbow bolts hissed above us, and landed head-first in the ground behind us at our eye-level. Another volley after twenty seconds. Good thing we had dug in.
"I guess that concludes negotiations," I said.
It was a strange thing, being attacked with what I could only think of as an antique weapon. Still, I went straight into a fighting mindset. I had seen what bows could do to animals before, as my countrymen still used them for hunting. No need to become a pincushion.
Very slowly, I peeked over the edge again. Troops were making their way up the path, stumbling on the uneven ground but keeping together nonetheless. Chainmail glowing white with their body heat in my enhanced sight, shields raised to shoulder height. They were all dead, they just didn't realise it yet. I felt a pang of sadness for them, but knew that I could not fail to kill them. They wouldn't lay down their arms, no matter what I said. Terror was required.
"God, I hope this works," I said the two other occupants of the foxhole. They both nodded. I kissed them both for luck, as quickly as I could. "Get ready." I had no idea how many I could kill. In retrospect, I shouldn't have been so worried, but I'm Sam Hunt, not Captain Hindsight. The infantry bumbled up the hill, right into the killzone. I grimaced, and pat Julie on the shoulder.
Julie held the flare gun directly up as I had instructed, and fired the flare into the sky. Searing bright white light filled the hillside, turning it leafy green from the hazy blue-black it had been before. The men-at-arms looked shocked and confused, visibly squinting upwards. The commander atop a horse at the bottom was the same.
"Now Tam!" I commanded.
The Qunari stood up to her full height, shoulders above the parapet, the sand-yellow of her helmet almost glowing in the flare-light. Nocking a black arrow to the black longbow that was as large as she was, she drew it back and tilted back onto her waist slightly. The shot breathed away from the bow, across Tam's thumb and into the air. It sailed above the heads of the troops closing in, causing great worry among them as they ducked and raised their shields to cover their heads. They need not have bothered, they weren't the target.
It was impossible to watch the arrow properly in the night, even with my night-vision devices, but the effect was clear once it landed. It caught the chevalier's horse below the neck at the collar bone, a splatter of warm blood erupting from the skin that almost looked like a flower. The horse reeled from the blow, tossing its rider. It collapsed, landing on top of him. A perfect hit. Tam ducked down as more crossbow bolts came by in response, hastily aimed but still managing to pierce the air where she had stood a fraction of a second earlier. She wasn't smiling.
"Shieldwall!" cried a squire or sergeant. The broken up groups of spearmen began reforming closer together. The advance stopped dead. An apt term.
I lay down my firelance and picked up the first two triggers in both hands.
"FIRE IN THE HOLE!" I roared, before snapping them closed.
The first set of mines went off, shooting tongues of flame and hundreds of metal balls into the front ranks at huge speed. I couldn't help but be reminded of the dragon as it burned and ripped Fraser's men apart. The front soldiers collapsed, those still conscious holding bits of themselves together or twitching violently before going still. Blood spilled everywhere. I turned off the heat-sight device and placed it back in its pouch. Grizzly stuff to watch, and there was more to come.
Waiting for the enemy to recover, I detonated the other set of mines as the survivors backed off. They were angled to catch them from behind. Again, the explosives threw fire and metal at the closed ranks, and again, dozens of men fell. The crossbowmen were almost entirely wiped out. This time, whatever order was being imposed on the troops completely disappeared. Those left either began to run or ducked for cover, eyes wide with fear and confusion. I knew that feeling well.
I snapped the bayonet and flashlight onto the nose of my firelance as the flare's light finally died, and placed the night-vision device onto my helmet. The world turned a sickly green-grey, but I could see again. I took a deep breath, to suppress the fatigue building in my bones. I stepped up, out of the protection of the foxhole. I was sure that I could still be seen, even though the moons were just crescents that night. I whispered to the others to follow, and moved cautiously forward.
I ignored the carnage as best I could, as it would transfix me if I paid any heed to it. Opening me up to be killed by anyone waiting for an opportunity.
A poor idiot rose up from behind a bush and charged me, spear ready and shield raised.
He was a very lucky idiot however, as he had waited until I was just close enough. I took the thrust dead in the chest, easily a lethal blow if I had been wearing what he was. However, I wasn't, so he was actually unlucky. I was in fact wearing something a whole lot better than chainmail. The blow winded me, but I managed to grab his weapon below the head. He immediately let go of it and went to grab a short sword from his belt. I shot him with my firelance as he finally got it out of the scabbard, three bullets easily piercing him. He collapsed to the ground, as my heart began a return to a less feverish pace.
"Come out and throw down your weapons!" I shouted, "You won't be harmed!"
"Is that wise?" asked Tam from a distance, arrow nocked as she stood a little way back.
"Just watch," I replied.
Sure enough, soldiers began to stand up before tossing aside their spears, swords and crossbows, and folding back the hoods of their chainmail. I activated the flashlight on the end of my firelance, which had them flinching, and frogmarched them to the bottom of the hill.
"Kneel, and put your hands on your head," I barked, as Julie covered them with her handcannon, keeping her axe over her shoulder for quick use as well. The prisoners complied, and I made my way to the downed horse. Time to see what our opponent was made of.
The chevalier sighed as I approached, which surprised me. I had half expected him to be cursing me out or calling me a roguish rapscallion. Aristocratic even in defeat. Instead, he seemed to be more aware of just what situation he was in. He lay back on his elbows, leg trapped under his very dead horse, and watched me approach.
"Qunari blackpowder," he said, not an inch of hauteur in his tone, "Most impressive."
"I'm surprised you recognised that wasn't magic," I said, not wishing to reveal anything about my origins, "Impressive."
He looked up the hill at the mass of dead, bloodied men, and to his troops kneeling before Tam and Julie. I looked him over for a second. Even with his mask on, I could tell he was defeated. Now it was a matter of seeing if he would admit it.
"Are you injured?" I asked, "Is your leg broken?"
"Merely pinned," he replied.
I helped the man drag himself out from under the horse, and he stood unevenly. He reached for his sword immediately, and I took a step back, raising my own weapon. It was unnecessary. He removed his sword and sheathe together, holding it with one hand by his side.
"I am Ser Milo Duval of the Exalted Plains," he said, "Sworn to the true Emperor of Orlais." He awaited my response.
"Samuel Hunt, Marquis de Lafayette," I replied, smiling at the joke.
"Lafayette?" he said, "I am not familiar with it."
"You wouldn't be, it is far to the west over the sea," I said, "I am not in fact a servant of the Empress, as you may have heard." Ser Duval nodded to himself, as if it made sense, glancing at his dead men. His face was covered by the silver mask, but I could tell he knew he had made a massive mistake. It was the way his shoulders slumped slightly as he stood. He was guilty, and I felt sorry for him. My own lies had brought him to this point, after all.
"Very well, Marquis," he said, "I offer you my surrender."
He held up his sword on both of his palms, and lowered his head. I reached out to take it, when a shout came from behind.
A group of three men charged at me, looking like madmen. Their leader wore a mask, this time a dark colour, with a nasty looking mace raised over his head. I turned and shot one of his acolytes with my firelance. Wounds rippled along the man's lower torso, and he dropped. I tweaked my aim to the right, to hit the masked one. I had to raise it to stop hitting the person who intervened.
Ciara, the supposedly quiet and unassuming serving girl, hopped in front of me, still in full kevlar armour. With a small, straight dagger, she ducked under the mace swing that would have flattened her skull had it been unprotected. She stood up almost chest-to-chest with the assailant, and did something. It was hard to see in the dark. When she stepped back, my flashlight revealed the damage. Her dagger was bloody and the man dropped his weapon to clutch at his neck. A river of blood was flowing from it. Yeesh.
It was such a sight that I barely registered the third man. Until Julie ran forward and planted her axe in the man's shoulder, collapsing him like a house of cards. He grunted his last breath, and Julie pulled the axe out of him. She could be terrifying at times too. Thedas really is a world where people are somewhat casual about killing, a little too much for my taste. Regardless, she returned to guarding the prisoners after giving a pat on the shoulder, which I have to admit I needed.
"We will talk later," I said firmly to Ciara, before waving her off to return to Armen. The mage emerged from the woods to join the others, having done what he was supposed to; watch and intervene if there were any surprises. Apparently, Ciara was his intervention. With that to deal with later, I turned back to the dazed chevalier.
"Ser Duval of the Exalted Plains, I accept your surrender," I said, before taking the offered sword.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: What to say about this chapter... I suspect it may be controversial?
Sam-Julie-Tam was planned from the very start, and to be honest, I've wondered how to reveal it. I'm not sure if this works, but a 'carpe diem' type situation before a battle seemed like the best way. It's pretty damn important for the plot, not just for the romantic involvement of the characters either, so I really hope I didn't fuck it up.
It also violates the whole disclaimer I made at the start a little, though the consequences of Sam doing this will be felt as the story goes on. He doesn't have a factory on hand to crank out more stuff for him, after all.
Then there's Ciara, who we'll be seeing a lot more of.
The next chapter is entitled "The Iron Bull". Three guesses why.
KiraReaper: Trouble is indeed attracted to them, but given who they are, how they look, etc etc, they look too unusual to simply pass by unnoticed.
Meebsterman: The games don't really explore the life of the ordinary person much, though we get a lot of information from conversation and codex entries about it. It's a feudal, medieval society. Life sucks for most people even without Blights, demons, rogue Templars and rebel mages. I suppose that's one thing I'm trying to play with here. Very glad you like Armen by the way, I had fun coming up with him.
5 Coloured Walker: It is indeed hard to proof read one's own writing, which is why I appreciate your help.
Vixeona: Absolutely delighted to hear it. Stalk as much as you like.