Chapter Eighteen: Sherwood
The next lesson I learned in Thedas is every power in the world will resist change with all the might they can bring to bear. Powers both temporal and supernatural. If I didn't know better, I would have said that Thedas exists as a petri dish for a capricious god to watch mortals suffer in as many interesting ways as they themselves can dream of. Regardless of what now may be known about the Fade, the idea of immortality of the sort offered by that realm still strikes me as more of a punishment than a reward. Julie says souls merely pass through it to join the Maker, even after all that has happened. I am not so sure. Of course, the material world here has just as many ways to cause suffering as my own did, and it was those I was primarily concerned with before the Breach opened and madness started.
A practical demonstration of this lesson was forthcoming a few months after we set up in Hearth, but to understand it, I should probably relay the conversation I had with the Baron, just before he introduced me to my would-be vassals.
Des Arbes came to the château and invited me to his home, as Leha had said, and had his servants distract Julie and Tam while he walked us into a lounge room. I had some trepidations about whether or not he wanted to harm me as we walked into the ornate room. I had even more about whether or not I'd find his damned lawyer of a wife sitting there, waiting with twelve Templars and a pair of bracelets. Thankfully, I found only tastefully luxurious furnishings, including two seats and a table looking out of a large window to the countryside over the walls. I was surprised to see such a gap in the defences of the Keep, though I later learned there was a portcullis that came down over the window during sieges.
The noble bade me to sit, and I did so. He followed suit, and poured himself a glass of wine without offering me a similar refreshment. Prick.
"You are in an interesting situation, Marquis," the Baron began in Orlesian, as he set down his mask where the glass had been.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Your strange behaviour," he continued, "It is troubling to see someone with noble blood like yours, acting as you are. Spending money so frivolously on things only the merchants think of as aristocratic? Buying up half the town's supplies with that dwarven lowlife.. You are already the talk of the chevaliers." I snorted my derision at his disapproval. After all, with what I knew, I'd be richer than the entire Empire of Orlais if I wanted to be. If this was his game, playing the hauteur, I could double down on that.
"We don't spend our money on unnecesssary crap where I'm from," I lied, "Those of high rank are expected to be brave, grand, and above all, prudent." Utter horse manure. High grade. Sure, the expectations were there, but they were followed on a patchy basis at best. I'm not sure if he realised that, but the Baron smirked a little nonetheless, like I was quaint. He was probably comparing me to the Fereldan nobility in his mind, but I couldn't know that at the time. Just thinking about it stresses my ass even today.
"The Revered Mother keeps petitioning me to call forth soldiers to deal with your apostate mage," he continued, swirling his glass before taking a gulp, "Personally I do not care, I would hire such a useful individual myself if I could, but she will only appeal to me for so long before going to her superiors directly." Now with the veiled threats.
"Mother Brandon has been informed at every opportunity that my mage is Andrastian and on detached service from the Circle," I replied, "It's her prerogative to disbelieve, but she saw what I'm capable of. No one should be worried about Armen, he's harmless." An eyebrow cocked briefly at that. I was tempted to add that Armen couldn't hurt me even if he turned into a giant Fade gorilla, but I thought better of it.
"You are buying strange materials and equipment for some unknown purpose, and Mother Brandon knows it," said the Baron, grey eyes piercing me, "Then there is the matter of your weapons..."
I felt his gaze keenly, and returned it as best I could through my calculations. I'm sure he could see the cogs turning in my head as I tried to work out what this conversation was about. He took another sip of his wine, and I decided I had enough of the Game. Time to cut out the bullshit.
"If you don't have any business with me, I'll go," I said, leaning back into the generously padded leather chair, "Otherwise, I'm listening."
"Something about you smells, Lord Hunt," he said with a shit-eating grin on his face, "I can't figure out what yet, but I will find out eventually."
If it had been anyone else, I might have felt fear or anger upon hearing those words. However, as it was Pierre Des Arbes and not someone else, I failed entirely to suppress the laughter that bubbled out of my lips at that. If his intention was to put me off balance or even threaten me seriously, this was a terrible plan. He had brought me past his guards, into a room with just the two of us, and I was far from unarmed.
Impressively, the man's grin remained even as I retrieved my handcannon from behind the back of my new silk shirt and pointed it at about waist height in his direction. A nice dramatic flick of the safety to the fire position had no effect either, which was disappointing.
"Perhaps I shouldn't wait until you figure it out," I said, waving the barrel slightly.
The Baron sighed and polished off his glass, before setting it down and taking up his mask into his hands. He didn't put it on, just held it. My resolve didn't waver at his apparent irritation, but I had to wonder if he was mad. Pierre des Arbes was far from mad.
"You took something precious from me, Lord Hunt," he said, with a wave of the glass.
"Not intentionally," I replied, "Deal with it. She's not a toy, not something to be fought over like children with candy." I was even a little insulted for Tam. After all, I hadn't 'taken' Julie alone.
"Certainly not," agreed Pierre, "But if you stand in the way, you have to ask yourself why I have not made a move to... remove you from the picture yet." It was a reasonable point, but I had thought about that more than a little over the few weeks between my first meeting with the man and this one.
"She would know," I said, "And you would fail. At which point Count Glockula and Madame Beretta would be making a visit along with a very pissed off Qunari." I waved the weapon from the wrist again, so he'd know exactly what I meant.
The Baron's smile went from one of cunning triumph to one of actual amusement, though I couldn't figure out whether or not it was because of his self-belief or whether he thought the notion of our coming to kill him was funny. It made my stomach rise a little.
"You are still alive because you are useful to me alive," he said, "You are obviously of military bearing, and these are troubled times. For the past two years, there has been fighting between we minor nobles of Orlais, over who should be the sovereign. You know this, I think..."
I nodded, remembering Ser Milo Duval and his cause.
"Who do you support, Celene or Gaspard?" I asked.
"Celene, but it does not matter," said Pierre, "Regardless of who I support, I cannot afford to throw away any advantage. The Game has become even more deadly than usual. Perhaps, there will be civil war. A lack of resolution means we must prepare for the worst."
Annoyed by the realisation that he didn't want to throw me to the dogs, I lowered my weapon to my lap with a scowl on my face. What he was saying fit my impression of him. Julie was important, yes, but he didn't strike me as the sort to throw it all away for a mistress. Besides, he couldn't. He had family to take care of aside from all of that. His legacy for one. Children he did in fact love even if he didn't love their mother in the usual respect as well.
"So, I am to be your personal flying monkey then?" I asked, causing genuine confusion. Wizard of Oz, in case you haven't seen the play.
"Problem-solver," Pierre corrected, "You will raise levies like my other manor-lords, and you will help me destroy my enemies." Which answered the question of why he would send me vassals. Can't raise troops if you have no one to recruit, and it's not like there were any real professional armies in Orlais. Soldiers were peasants, and peasants are tied to the land of their lord.
"And if I don't?" I asked, already knowing where this was going.
"Then I cannot protect you from the forces that will be coming," he said with a renewed triumphant smile, "Even if you kill me, they are coming. I can slow them down, I can hide your presences here, perhaps even stop them from looking at all."
"And you would do that?" I asked. It was now my turn to be confused.
"Of course. If the Chantry kills you, Julie will most likely be standing next to you when it happens, and I would prefer she lived," the Baron said, "Of course, with the dangers you will face in my name, perhaps you will die, no?" His smile disappeared, replaced by a keen interest in my response.
"Leaving you free to court her again," I nodded, "I see your angle now." In other words, it was win-win for him. Either he had a highly capable tool at his disposal, or Julie was free for him to pursue. I don't think he was reckoning with Tam's presence, or perhaps he intended to tolerate her. Which wouldn't go well either way.
"Originally, I was going to use the Revered Mother to deal with you and your mage, but when I saw you kill those giant spiders... Let's just say that I had a moment of divine inspiration" he chuckled, "So Marquis, if that really is your title, shall we cooperate?"
The finger laid against the side of my handcannon itched for a moment. My gut told me to blast a hole in his forehead, but my common sense told me to accept. I'd made a lot of enemies in a very small space of time, and very few friends with the sort of power that could protect me against the bigwigs out there. With a growl, I gave him a nod to signal my acceptance, unable to bring myself to vocalise it.
"Magnificent," he said, finally deeming me worthy of a glass of wine.
I picked it up, we toasted and drank. Despite my objections to the man's character, he had good taste in viticulture. I remember thinking that I really needed to sample the stock I had in our basement, we hadn't really tried the wine there yet. Julie and Tam entered the room and their eyes widened at the sight of us. Bet they didn't expect to see the Baron and I sitting down and drinking like civilised men. It was almost as if we respected each other.
The aforementioned vassals that had been sent me looked like a sorry bunch indeed, if you didn't possess my eye. Half-starved young elves, and humans that looked shifty to say the least. No one who looked like they had literally been dumped out of the town gaol or the slums, thankfully, but the idea of putting members of either group to work on the land as serfs seemed like a bad idea. The elves would wither and die, the humans would reject my authority, both would revolt. Thankfully, we had long rejected open thievery of that sort.
There were nearly a thousand of them, the vast majority between Ciara's age and my age. Young families with or without children, single people, and the occasional middle-aged person with a useful skill. The gender split was about 50-50, but the racial divide was more like 70-30 in favour of elves. They came with any property they could move easily, and I found the plaza around our home surrounded with carts and people when I returned.
The Baron had found them from the lands of the other chevaliers. Second sons who couldn't inherit and daughters who had married the wrong person or not married at all, these were the humans under my care. People whose lords they had pissed off or whose lords just wanted their land, often to be given to a human family, these were the elves I had given to me. To most Thedosians, practically all except the Qunari, they were refuse, both human and elven. To me, they were solid gold. Just whom I needed.
If they had been trusted vassals of the chevaliers or had never had it bad, I could have never won their loyalty.
I set about that task immediately. It took a week, but I sat down with every one of my vassals and un-vassalised them. They weren't to be shackled to the land by feudal crap that went out centuries before I was born on Earth. I couldn't have that, and I refused to benefit from it. I'm sure my father would have been proud to see it, patriot that he was. Jolly fat armchair patriot in his later days. I replaced all the oaths of fealty with contracts. Whether or not an Orlesian court would have upheld them, I don't know, but none of them were ever broken badly enough for the issue to come up.
Some signed up as farmers, more as labour for the new enterprise that Leha and I were working on. The most physically capable, I steered in the direction of soldiering for me. The pay for that was better, but the work was harder, I told them. Almost everyone I offered it to took it. Those that didn't were mostly elves, that probably didn't trust me as a human. One or two humans didn't take it when they heard I was recruiting elves... I discharged those entirely.
The former peasants were very encouraged by the idea of regular pay, to say the least. It wasn't a great wage for most, but it was enough to have people smiling at me and thanking me as I passed. The wages would go up once we started making money as well, which was a subject of much shock when I announced it. I felt pity for them at such times, that they could be that happy over basic respect for the value of their work.
By the end of the first week of August, I had lovers and friends, pasture and tillage being looked after, a distillery and forge working, two hundred good people ready to start training to become real soldiers as opposed to hired thugs in mail with hundreds more coming, and an alliance with a bastard that would protect all of it as long as I could put up with him. Not bad for a guy who was in prison about a month earlier. My outlook was genuinely positive on all fronts for the first time.
Perhaps it was the measure of familiarity that had been restored to me, mixed with the good company and soft beds. The grounds of our château had been turned into a military camp. The order of the day: Drill, baby, drill.
For the next few months were all about drilling. I'll spare you the exact details, they're boring unless you're into that sort of thing and I've set them out in the more widely published book The Free Army. To be brief about it, I trained them to stand up and march straight on a parade ground, to march and fight together with swords and shields in close order, to shoot crossbows and longbows straight with Tam and Ciara, how to lay out a camp, how to stay clean, night watches, small unit tactics, combat engineering, horse riding, and above all, military discipline. Discovering who was right to lead the others was the worst task. I didn't have the benefit of resumés or background checks, and what I dredged up from my own background to fill those gaps was limited. Still, I got it done, even the horse riding.
Unfortunately, despite all the activity, we would not be entirely ready when our first test came.
We weren't the only people drilling either. Julie was training her apprentices, the number of which had risen considerably. Thankfully, she had one or two other blacksmiths to help her out there. The forge building went from a stone hunt to the size of a small factory in the space of weeks. The apprentices churned out basic stuff like tools, nails, that sort of thing. The other blacksmiths made weapons. We needed quite a few of those, as you can imagine. Swords, daggers, maces, crossbow parts, shield bosses. Julie herself was working on more exotic things with the help of Armen and I, but we'll get to that in due time. She was positively gleeful at the results of the whole scheme, which was relaxing to watch. Made nights a lot more fun too.
Tam began teaching the children, which she took to as naturally as you'd expect for someone trained since the age of twelve for the job. Julie got in on that too, teaching Orlesian and Common in Latin letters. I've never seen kids so calm in school. I certainly don't remember being that calm. Then again, if I had a teacher like Tam, strict yet insisting on a minimum of clothing, perhaps I would have sat still. She managed to work out the books from Earth on almost every subject. The basic subjects were joined with science, geography, political education and music. I was quite startled one morning as I woke up, and was confronted by twelve twelve-year-olds starting up to play Preussens Gloria. Tam had a good laugh when I fell over in surprise. I still hadn't discovered that coffee existed in Thedas yet, so I was easily dazed in the mornings. Excuses, excuses.
Armen seemed to become half-evil scientist, half-miracle doctor. He set up a laboratory and a clinic, and split his time between the two. There was a lot of suspicion at first, to the point that he was shunned at best. Only the bravest of children would talk to him, and they'd get admonished by their parents for the trouble. I tried to intervene, but Armen himself stopped me. He said they would come to appreciate him, and he was right. A wave of measles blew through in the first week of Kingsway, hitting the whole town. Thanks to Armen, no one among our people died. Many in town were not so lucky. We had a long conversation about vaccines, after I just waltzed around near the infected without a care. The older parents were still wary after that, but everyone else warmed right up. Probably helped that he could have been a stand-up comedian. Word soon spread elsewhere that there was a healer at L'Ambassade.
Ciara led the hunting groups and settled disputes, her natural endearing charm and tendency to get right to the root of a problem helping immensely with the latter, her skills with a bow with the former. Carrot and stick was her favourite approach, and thanks to her, I almost never had to deal with the crap that I had expected to bother me. The garden looked spectacular after a few months of her work too. I was grateful for her efforts on both.
Leha managed the enterprises, as she had when it was just Julie to work with, and although she had a higher workload, she seemed to be enjoying herself. When she wasn't sulking about the money we were spending on wages. Grumpy as she was, she did the job. We paid off our debts and were growing our treasury bit by bit. Money is prettier here I have to say, and the temptation to start rolling around in a pile of gold and silver did enter my mind.
Despite all, we always managed to eat together every evening, often far later than we would have liked. I slept with Julie and Tam on the west side of the building. Safe behind what had practically become a small town in its own right.
Or so we thought. Ben-Hassrath assassins or Templars might have caused alarm, but there was one enemy that would raise no suspicion upon their approach, one we couldn't yet oppose openly.
On October 24th, or the 24th of Harvestmere to Fereldan readers, the Baron sent word that he would be arriving with important guests to meet us. He failed to mention who these important guests would be, but the tone of his letter left me an impression that he wasn't pleased to see them. I had talked to him enough over the intervening months to understand that much, doing small errands for him which were far from burdensome. His intent for us was clear: Be ready.
This was somewhat difficult a task. Armen and Ciara were away on business, Mage Rebellion business, which left me without my best Dalish scout and a walking weapon, not to mention two of the only people I really trusted to have my back. Not having Armen around in case the others got hurt was another problem. The estate was already in some unease over that, wondering where he had gone to.
So it was with annoyance that I had the captains of my two companies called to the kitchen during breakfast. I knew them by their ranks and nicknames only, as I did with most of the soldiers. Part of the process of breaking down their identities and rebuilding them, you see. Regardless, I had them call a parade inspection for the time the Baron would arrive. Both lived in the château, the perks of being officers having been established as an incentive for people to want to get promoted, but the kitchen was off-limits to anyone but us. Usually. They saluted and went to assemble everyone.
Julie and Tam remained silent, until we were back in our bedroom, donning full Earth panoply. I guess they were caught in their own thoughts on the matter, until I myself opened my mouth to hear them. It was the first time I had worn the full uniform since we settled in, incidentally.
"Any idea who we're meeting?" I asked, as I did up the straps on my armour.
"Templars?" Tam suggested, picking up a helmet from the bottom of her personal cabinet, "Would they not command the respect to do this?" I shivered with the prospect, but knew that it was a possibility. Which was precisely why I had ordered a full assembly, why I was putting on Terran armour as fast as I could, and why I was bringing a whole arsenal out with me.
"Could be," admitted Julie, "If someone in Halamshiral finally got around to figuring out how many died in the prison, we could be facing chevaliers." Yet another reason to tool up in my books, though the consequences of opening up on royal officers would be greater. The Chantry couldn't really afford to send enough Templars to kill us. The Empire had no shortage of chevaliers.
Julie hefted her firelance into her arms with one hand and pulled her long hair out from under the kevlar vest with the other. I paused in the middle of retrieving the large firelance to watch her for a moment, my breath catching a little at the sight. Julie noticed.
"Are both of you ready?" she asked with a smile, eyes moving between Tam and I. I turned to the Qunari, only to find she was equally as captivated. Which cheered me up to no end. I stood up straight with a grin on my face, and placed my blue beret on my head. With my heart lightened, I nodded and held my weapon close.
We left our room, jogged the corridor and down the stairs, exited the château and went through the garden to the northern archway. When I emerged from the long passage, I shivered. It was getting cold by that part of the year, and all the leaves on the trees had turned a spectacular red-orange. Against that backdrop, I saw that everything was ready. More or less.
Opposite the forge, all two hundred of my little army stood in passable parade formation on the grounds, divided by company and platoon neatly. All wearing chainmail, liberated from Duval's soldiers, made or bought. The front ranks wore helmets shaped very closely to my own, with additions of metal strips on the dome, cheek-pieces and a wide neckguard. Most were armed with short swords at their side, curved rectangular shields on their backs, light crossbows in their hands. Others had longbows, round shields and spears, the skirmisher platoons.
If you're from Earth and you know your history, imagine the army of Julius Caesar mixed with that of Henry V of England and Philip VI of France, and you have some idea of what I was building. I had to consult the history books I brought through myself on that point, I am not ashamed to admit. No firearms means you have to fight a little differently, so I learned from some of the best of my world. Thankfully, things are better nowadays.
The atmosphere among the troops felt quite wrong, different from usual, but I couldn't put my finger on it as I approached.
"Portez vos armes!" shouted the sergeant-major, piercing me with the volume and weight of her voice. She was a short elf with long black hair and the most capable set of lungs I ever saw on a mortal being. Which is why I chose her for the role, aside from her proficiency with a crossbow. I called her Sergeant Mike, as in microphone, a nickname she responded to as quickly as her actual name... which I forget, as I only ever used it once. The reason is obvious. I spoke words at a normal volume, she amplified them ten-fold. Simple. She also happened to be an ex-huntress of wolves, which helped.
Of course, all commands were given in Orlesian. Peasants tended to have only a passing level of the Common Tongue, regarding their native language as very much their first choice. Only among merchant families was bilingualism considered important, and even they spoke Orlesian at home. This didn't bother me in the slightest, and indeed the language remains the first used in my new adopted homeland. To the ire of our neighbours.
I was horrified as the soldiers responded to the order as if hellhounds were chewing at the bit to eat them. That is to say quickly and in a panic. Their practised choreography had broken down completely as they raised their crossbows to their shoulders. They knew something was up. Their nervousness displeased me greatly, in a way only the failings of subordinates can irritate you, but I couldn't exactly do anything about it.
Julie, Tam and I mounted up on our horses. Tam on Fritz, obviously. Julie climbed up onto her Orlesian desert courser, a beautiful white horse that was a good bit smaller than ours. She named it Revas, which if you speak the Elven tongue should give you a hint of her mindset at this time. All idealism. My horse was a huge red destrier, a little larger than Fritz. Unlike my previous names for equine animals, I knew I would face combat at some point while riding this one. Keeping away from the comedic, I named her Bellona, for reasons I would be constantly explaining. The packhorses Lucky and Bob were with Armen and Ciara, in case you were wondering.
We trotted over to where Mike and the two captains were waiting.
"They look nervous," remarked Julie with a frown. It was so bad that even Julie's civilian eyes could see it. Tam's expression was studied but neutral, as she rode Fritz slowly along the line, watching. Most of the soldiers bristled in a wave as she passed, looking like they normally did for a moment. So, nothing particularly unusual there.
"Captains McNulty and Soprano..." I said, causing a ripple of salutes from the two, "Why do your companies look like like they're afraid of something?"
McNulty at least had the decency to look displeased at the state of the troops, scratching his short black hair a little. My eyes moved to him, waiting for a response. He shrugged it off with a smile, causing a crease in his chainmail as he did so. I felt a bubble of anger in my throat, but the reprimand for not answering me in an appropriate manner stuck there. He was nervous too. I looked to his company, and found them to be the most twitchy. His subordinates knew it too. Given that he was usually either a tide of drunken comedy, the soldier's soldier, or bubbling over with genius in the heat of an angry moment, this was a new thing for him and I didn't like it.
Soprano on the other hand was entirely cool-headed on the outside, a stern look pointed directly at her columns. One that would have put the fear of God into me, if I was a private. The tall elf was intimidating to say the least, and from the first moment I saw her, I knew she was officer material. She was visibly striking, to be politically correct about it, yet almost as terrifying as Tam on a killing spree. Perhaps more so, because she definitely wasn't a fan of kids. I had suspected she was a gang leader of some sort before being conscripted into my service, but she was very respectful during her interview, so I gave her a pass. I was rewarded with hard work from a hardass. She kept her people in line.
I had been tempted to nickname them Carrot and Stick respectively, but McNulty wasn't a redhead, so I thought better of it. Besides, they reminded me too much of the set of characters I did in fact name them after. Of course, they're famous now by those names, so they can hardly complain.
It was the latter of the two that spoke to answer me.
"There are fantastic rumours flying around, sir," Soprano said in her unusually deep tone, "They're afraid that the Baron is coming to remove you." And put us back in our box, being the unspoken fear. Another lesson there. With hope for the future comes fear of the past, specifically that the past will return and ruin everything. In this case, it was not an unjustified fear. I was unkind to them, at least in my heads, for their lack of backbone.
"The Baron would do no such thing," said Julie firmly, "And if he did, he wouldn't send word ahead to warn us. No, this is something else." I agreed.
Tam rode back over to us, with solemn stone in her eyes.
"We need to do something," she reported, "Or else."
"You don't say," replied McNulty, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "We're sitting with our asses hanging out here. We should move everyone to the windows inside, and let loose with the bows when the bastards arrive." Which would lead directly to our deaths, in all likelihood. No way we could cover our tracks if we did that, but I suspect the good captain didn't care.
"Or we arrange in battle line across the road and attack them there," Soprano said, pointing to the spot she thought best, "That way, we can chase down any runners." Except the enemy would run to town, and we'd likely only catch them once we were in sight of the walls and its guards. Still no good, though her enthusiasm to cut down all our enemies was encouraging at least.
"We're not killing the Baron without seeing what he wants first," said Julie with finality to the both of them, "Is that perfectly understood?" For a moment, I thought they would look to me for confirmation. This was the first time either of them had been ordered by her to do anything. I was afraid they would reject her, or look to me as their sole leader. That wasn't how I wanted it to go. Perhaps they could tell that, out of the corners of their eyes. Ì was underestimating Julie, however. They both simply stared at her, before deciding their course as one.
"Yes, Marquise," they said, before saluting. To make sure there wasn't any bad blood, between either party, I stepped in.
"They were good ideas, but the Marquise is right," I said, "We can't shoot first and ask questions later. You're not entirely wrong though, we need to do something..." I clicked my tongue, and Bellona trotted off down the line of soldiers. Eyes tracked me as I rode along. They were waiting for me to act. To reassure them. I could think of only one thing that could.
"Sergeant-Major!" I called.
"Yes sir!" Mike shouted back.
"Load and present arms," I said.
"CHARGEZ VOS ARMES!" roared the diminutive elf, teeth bared as her mouth boomed out the words. The entire line moved to follow at an instant. Those with crossbows stooped to load them, threading a foot into the ring to pull the string back, before standing again to put a fresh bolt in each of the safetycatches. Those with longbows selected three arrows from their quivers, held two with their bows and nocked the third. It was still pretty sloppy though. A couple of people managed to drop their arrows or bolt in the process.
"PRESENTEZ VOS ARMES!" Mike shouted, completing the command. All two hundred stepped forward a pace, and held their weapons out in front of them. This was accomplished much more smoothly, to my great relief. I rode back to the others, seeing that everyone had gotten the message I was trying to send. Combat could be coming, prepare yourself to act immediately without orders. It was good timing on my part too.
"Sam, Julie, look!" said Tam, throwing a glance in the direction of the rocky road to Hearth.
Down the avenue between the trees came a large procession. It was easy to pick out the Baron at the head of the group, his red mask standing out from the others, as the front ranks rode in on horseback. Behind them was a column of troops, maybe a hundred of them. They could have been the brothers of the men I had killed during the hilltop battle. Their armaments were pretty similar, longswords, shields, spears, chainmail and helmets. They were better protected than what our people had. They were carrying blue banners with a golden lion with them. I still had not selected heraldry or a banner of my own yet, and the lack of it annoyed me as I watched the sigils approach.
When they got closer, I could see the infantry were no peasants, at least not anymore. They might not have had the discipline I was trying to instil in the new soldiers, but they had the look that many hired thugs have. They were veterans of many a fight, and their scars showed. That had me readying the large firelance, checking the ammunition belt. Not that firing on horseback was a good idea, but a quick burst to scatter them would do the job until I could dismount.
They had three wagons with them, mostly empty, with only a few chests with them. That should have struck me as a clue, but my attention redirected itself to the Baron, as he rode ahead of the pack to join us with his favourite two lackeys. I nodded my greeting to him, which he returned before eyeing the lines of soldiers. I could tell already that he looked relieved to see them, which put all my fears forward in my head.
The mounted chevaliers, all thirty of them, stopped directly ahead of us. One of them at the rear called for the men-at-arms to stop at the gate, and he was obeyed instantly. Thankfully, that was just about the perfect spot for us to turn them into pincushions if it turned into a shitfight. I relaxed a little at the realisation that they'd have no chance in hell to get close to Julie or Tam before I could react.
"What is this?" I asked the Baron. The noble remained silent, and I couldn't work out why. His mask remained still, hiding his features, giving away nothing.
"This is a tax collection," said a voice to my right.
I turned to find the lead chevalier, riding from the far end of his group towards me. He wore a white mask with a gold rim and yellow feathering, the latter common to all chevaliers of course. He was a well-muscled person, I could tell, and he had an ornate cavalry sword to put that strength behind. Target number one, I said to myself in my head.
"Are you mad?!" Julie said loudly to the chevalier, "It's almost winter. People will starve."
"People will serve their ruler, and beg mercy from the Maker for their insolence!" replied the chevalier, "War is brewing with Nevarra and Ferelden, there is trouble to the south and in the Circles, and the Marquise believes we should be unprepared?"
"The only thing that money will prepare is more cake for your table!" Julie shouted, pointing a finger at him, "More gold lining for your clothes! It has nothing to do with swords to defend us!"
Of course, the supreme irony is that the money was for a war. It just happened to be a civil war, rather than trying to put the dog-masters back under-heel. A war we would not have to fight in, thank all the gods...
What happened next occurred in the space of mere seconds.
White Mask, audibly fuming at the defiance levelled against him, drew his sword in a clean motion and levelled his retort at Julie. Tam drew her own longsword, and managed to put herself between the two with a wheel from Fritz. Revas reared back to get out of the way, almost putting Julie on the ground. The Qunari and the chevaliers squared off, ready to strike. Tam had the advantage of Earth armour and physicality, White Mask had the experience and training. The latter usually had the upper hand.
My reaction was of cool hatred, like icewater had been poured onto me. My face became taught, I could hear my heart beating and the adrenalin put me in a haze. I had felt this before, and it's at moments like those that you can go either way. Consumed by this feeling, it was joined by intense glee as I raised the firelance to my shoulder and prepared to send a burst into the bastard. I knew it would be the signal for my own soldiers to attack as well, and we'd put the whole damned lot of them to the sword.
No taxation without representation, I thought.
If it wasn't for one Baron Pierre des Arbes, the war would have kicked off early. He lightly slapped the barrel of my firelance downwards, before nudging his own steed forwards to intercede in the brewing sword-duel about to break out between Tam and White Mask. My open hatred did not subside, but the mad urge to slaughter them did. That's the thing about bloodlust, it can disappear in an instant with the smallest of gestures.
"Ser, you must excuse the Marquise... she is of common blood, and speaks her mind as such," he said.
"Then you should beat her until she learns to hold her tongue!" the chevalier said in rebuke, as he lowered his weapon. Julie's hand twitched to her weapons, a sneer on her face. She didn't get further than that. The Baron had just sighed and drew his own sword, to my great surprise. Julie's hand moved away from her weapons again, and Tam even moved aside to get out of the way.
"Ser, I might remind you that I am the lord of this land, and you are merely a chevalier of no higher rank. No matter how highly esteemed you think you are," the Baron said politely, while holding his sword out, "How I treat my vassals is my business, provided they pay their taxes." White Mask growled an insult under his breath, but sheathed his sword. His fellows on horseback hadn't done anything this whole time, but now reacted with looks among themselves. My desire to kill them returned, in diminished form, as I realised that restraint was an unusual thing for them to witness.
"Shall she pay her way in defence of the Empire?" White Mask asked, with a glance of contempt thrown Julie's way.
"The Marquis will pay his taxes," the Baron said, "The Marquise has yet to be joined to him under the eyes of the Maker. Her title remains one of courtesy alone, for the moment." A fact he was quite happy about, no doubt. The bastards both turned to look at me. What they expected of me, I understood at once, and although it made the bile rise in my throat, I complied.
"How much?" I said calmly. A wave of frustration crossed Julie's face briefly, before she restrained herself. Tam by contrast remained cool on the outside, but knowing her, she was probably planning how best to fillet the specimens in front of her. As I watched them, another mounted knight rode up to me and handed me a piece of parchment. I couldn't read any of the script reliably, but I had numbers down to a fine point thanks to Leha. The sum being demanded was enormous. It wasn't a death sentence, but to pay it would mean serious sacrifices. Most would have levied it off of the backs of their vassals, but I wouldn't and couldn't do that.
Luckily, I had another option. Well, two other options, but simply killing them then and there wasn't exactly long-term thinking.
"You will pay now," said White Mask. Which I had every intention of doing in the first place. Paying later would have meant another visit by this giant prick.
"Sergeant-Major!" I called.
"Yes sir!" replied Mike, marching over. I threw her a large key to the basement cages.
"Set the troops at ease, then go down with six others, and retrieve the chests marked one, two and three," I said, "Bring them to the gate for the chevaliers to take." I saw the consternation and anger on the faces of my two captains as the sergeant saluted me in the Earth way. She ordered the columns to go to ease, pointed at a squad leader and waved him over, before leading them into the château to get what was owed. Once he saw this, White Mask sheathed his sword and waved for his bodyguard to return to the gate. He knew he was getting what he wanted, and now ignored our existence, like we were ants. McNulty and Soprano marched off to talk to their direct subordinates.
Julie, Tam and I all made straight for the Baron, who took off his mask and pinched the bridge of his nose. I managed to get the first word off.
"What in the fuck was that?" I asked with a smile on my face, and a hand on my gun. Pierre's head snapped up and his eyes met mine.
"That was the Grand-Duke sending a message," the noble said, "He has the men and authority to come burn us out of our castles if we don't support him or pay to have the rightful Empress removed." Subtle wasn't Gaspard's style, as everyone knows by now.
"How does he have the authority?" asked Julie, "We don't get taxed in autumn or winter, or people go hungry. It's a rule that's been around since the defeat of the elves!"
"The chevaliers are here to collect 'sword money' for the army," the Baron replied, "It's an even older tradition... one that hasn't been invoked since the Exalted Marches against the Qunari. The Grand Master of the Order of Chevaliers can impose it on any landed noble and at any rate he wishes... and that person just so happens to be Gaspard the Pretender." Apparently, Pierre was just as much a lawyer as Cecile was... not that it meant anything in Orlais.
"Is the Empress just going to take this?" I asked, "Isn't this defying her authority?"
"No," said Pierre flatly, "In fact, if she were to stop him, there would be talk that she was going too easy on the elves. There are already too many whispers of that kind, so as long as Gaspard keeps his tax-collections to the Dales, he will have no trouble with her interference... even if it funds a rebellion later..." I winced at that, wondering if perhaps I was backing the wrong horse. I already knew Gaspard had much of the real military types behind him thanks to Duval, learning that he also had wealth stolen from the Empress' supporters only increased my evaluation that he'd probably go on to win the throne. I couldn't possibly calculate for Briala's interference at this point, of course.
"How much did we lose?" asked Julie. I sighed and handed her the paper. One look had her rolling it into a little ball and throwing it away.
"We won't be able to pay anyone for months," Julie said, head in hands, "And we don't have enough to feed everyone for that long anyway. Maybe we should just kill them."
"You can't, there would be too many witnesses," Pierre said, grinding his teeth, "Otherwise I would have done it myself. You kill them here and now, and it will be the talk of Val Royeaux in a matter of a week. Then we all die." Which I could believe.
"Then our people just starve, is that it?" asked Julie.
"I told you not to pay them, but you didn't listen," the Baron replied, "You may not like it, but that's the truth."
"Shut up!" said Julie and I simultaneously.
"That man in white," Tam said, eyes narrowed, "I am going to kill him." I smiled like an idiot at her, thoroughly cheered by the idea. Which provoked an idea of my own on how to achieve it, get our money back and generally save the day.
"About that..." I said, turning to the Baron, "Do you know which settlements that cock will go to next?"
"Not exactly, but I can guess... Those loyal to Celene in the Dales remain close, for our own security. With Avvars in the hills and elves outnumbering us, we have much to lose if we aren't," he replied, "Why?"
"Ever hear of Robin Hood?" I asked in return, leaning in slightly.
Robin Hood is a famous figure in the history of a country named England, the birthplace of many of my ancestors. When threatened by a government that was determined to squeeze taxes out of every soul they could, particularly in the north of that country, Robin Hood organised a resistance that stole back the taxes from the collectors. King John, a tyrant who ruled in place of his brother in many adaptations of the story, tried everything to crush the resolve of the people of Nottingham, the town in which the resistance was based. How the history actually played out, I do not know and I do not think I ever knew it. The story versions are more interesting and hopeful to begin with. At the last moment, when all hope looked lost for Robin and his men, the rightful King Richard returns to save them and punish his brother for his misdeeds. This chapter is named for the forest in which they lived; Sherwood.
Unfortunately, we would have no Richard to save us from the evil King John. So we had to make do.
It was this story that had me shivering in the rain on my thirtieth birthday, October 31st, covered in a soaking wet hooded cloak on top of my armour, while sitting at the side of a forest road to the south of Hearth. Pierre des Arbes, once he had heard the story of the men of Sherwood, had gleefully given us the information which I requested. Though he refused to join us. From that, we were able to guess the route that White Mask would take back down to Halamshiral. Word from some of Leha's merchant contacts confirmed the presence of a large collection party, exactly where we had thought he would be. I had really wished that Armen and Ciara would return in time to help, but there was no sign of them.
Still, at least I wasn't alone in my misery.
Aside from Julie and Tam, whose presence I could not prevent, I brought with me the best seventy-five of my soldiers from three platoons, one from McNulty's company and two from Soprano's own. All were wearing the same cloaked hoods that you'd see most elves wearing around town, the same as I was wearing. No shortage of those to hand, to say the least. It had rained since we marched out of L'Ambassade, so our movements went largely unnoticed. No flash of chainmail, as it was firmly underneath coats, and not many on the road to see it anyway.
Julie and I were with the vanguard platoon under McNulty, twenty five of the best bruisers I had. The 'Grenadiers' as they would become in later days. They had kicked the snot out of their rivals in Soprano's company two weeks earlier in a formation sparring match with double-weighted dummy weapons. Another reason I had two captains and two companies. Nothing like rivalry to encourage excellence.
Of course, the drunken loudmouth's guys couldn't shoot for their lives, not compared to Soprano the Ice Queen's sharpshooters. Tam was with the longbow-armed skirmishers arranged on one side of the road, while Soprano was on the opposite side with her crossbow soldiers, ready to pounce when the trap was sprung.
It was nearly five hours before it would be.
We sat almost entirely in silence for that time, the only interruptions for the majority of the time being radio checks. I had given McNulty, Soprano and Mike the communication machines for this particular job. None of them seemed surprised by the technology at all, and the latter was very happy to be able to report that nothing was coming from the forward picket. I had been hoping for a more amazed response, but apparently I was such an anomaly to everyone by that point that they hand-waved it off. I determined to up my game on that front as the fifth hour was drawing to a close, when McNulty wandered up to me.
"Since we're just sitting here, scratching ourselves to relieve the boredom, I have a question sir," he said, taking a seat on a downed tree trunk, "If you wouldn't mind."
Julie smirked at his familiarity, and shook her head. I was too bored to care.
"You're going to ask anyway," I shrugged, "Shoot."
"The horse," he said, thumbing over his shoulder to wear we had tied up all of them, "What's the name mean?" I flinched a little in surprise at the question. No one had bothered to ask, probably as a result of the anomaly-effect I mentioned earlier. I was just a weird person to all of them.
"It means war in an ancient language," I replied, "Bellona was the goddess of war."
"You called your horse War?" Julie said with incredulity. A sentiment that McNulty shared.
"Why in the name of the Maker would you call it that?" he said, standing up.
Pleased that I would get to explain, I smiled. I had put a great deal of thought into the matter, after all. It was somewhat galling to have no one ask about it, considering how clever I thought it was. I was an arrogant guy. Suppose I still am.
"Behold, the red horse. And power was given to him who sat thereon, to take peace from the Earth. Its rider was given a mighty sword, and there was war and slaughter everywhere," I quoted, "Revelations 6:4." I was paraphrasing the best bits from the best versions of the text, admittedly. Both of my companions stared at me like I had three heads. So did some of the nearby soldiers.
"By Andraste, you are just scary sometimes," said McNulty with a frown, "I've never heard of the Canticle of Revelations before either..."
"Book," I corrected, "And unless you're from... the Far-West, you wouldn't have."
"I thought you were a peacekeeper," Julie said flatly, "That's bloody talk for a peacekeeper."
"My beret used to be red," I replied, "I am a soldier too, and was a soldier before I was a peacekeeper." And I thought I was Death himself, back in the day. Cocky son of a bitch that I was. A little too much Pulp Fiction on the mind, I think. Even wrote book, chapter and verse on the side of my helmet. Sometimes you need to throw a little mindfuck at people, allies and enemies alike. Easier to keep the peace if everyone pisses their pants at your approach.
"They're here!" whispered Mike over the comms. I clicked my fingers and motioned for everyone to shut the hell up. Sure enough, the regular thudding of hooves could be heard in the distance, even over the rain.
"Alright Captain Soprano, it's up to you and yours," I said into my mouthpiece, "We're ready to cut them off."
"Understood," came the curt reply.
I walked into the middle of the road alone from the cover of the trees and bushes, while everyone else hid. It was the plan.
The thumping on the ground grew louder, until around the corner in the distance came the chevaliers on horseback, in front as expected. I could see behind them that the men-at-arms were on the quick march, probably to get to the nearest town a couple of miles down the way. The wagons were in the middle of the groups, and looked much more full now than they did previously. They had a good haul and were in good spirits, I realised. I began slowly whistling The Farmer In The Dell as they came towards me, which put me squarely in their sights. Like I said, mindfuck.
White Mask called a halt with a single gesture of his arm, and he was obeyed instantly by the troops on foot. The cavalry moved more slowly forwards with him, hands on their swords, and the same chevalier who had handed me the tax bill now approached. I looked up at him from under my hood, and our eyes met.
"Who are you?!" he asked forcefully, "Get off the road, paysan!"
"What moves on four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three in the evening?" I asked loudly.
The chevalier roared insults at me, in addition to telling me again to get out of the way.
I held up a finger, then rather dramatically took down my hood and opened my cloak slightly, revealing my face and clothing. And the large set of weapons hanging off me. Mace, handcannon, automatic firelance. fragmentation grenades, kiteshield. I could have sworn that the idiot's eyes nearly popped out from the slits in his mask in shock, as he realised exactly who I was.
White Mask shouted something, I don't know what exactly because I was too busy readying to shoot at the horseman who had demanded my name. Regardless, it triggered the trap beautifully. From the woods on both sides of the road, arrows and bolts hissed out of the foliage. Straight into the bodies of the cavalry, turning them into sieves. Meanwhile, Julie and McNulty rushed onto the road just behind me, the platoon of soldiers at the ready with them, shields raised and swords ready. And the finishing touch, an Earth innovation, one of Julie's secret projects; a thick weave of barbed wire was run across the road by two men with thick gloves.
The first part of the plan went absolutely perfectly. The bowmen had orders to shoot at the horsemen and not the horses, and followed them. No matter how good your armour is, being struck by bolts and arrows at short range from multiple angles is going to put you off your mount. All of them, White Mask included, fell. Most were only wounded, and not necessarily badly, but the falls exacerbated matters as the horses bolted, kicking a few of them to add to the bodycount. My handcannon killed my target more or less instantly, his chainmail and padding no match for the bullets. My head was entirely filled with battle, as we watched the fallen chevaliers take another volley from the treelines to keep them down. It was very satisfying.
The next part of the plan went entirely wrong.
The men-at-arms advanced up the road as a single massive hedgehog, spears pointing out of a moving shieldwall. Their intention was obvious; get to the nobles and protect them, then engage us. As I thought they would. Standing around and protecting the carts wouldn't have made sense. Gold could be recovered afterwards, the lives of their masters couldn't, and the lives were more valuable. Tam reported that they were switching targets, and aimed exclusively for the front of the mass. The reasoning was simple. Trip up a few of them, and slow their advance.
It didn't work.
The reason for which utterly baffled me at first. The arrows and bolts were bouncing off the shields, even the hits striking directly. Most of the time. There were a few going down, but nowhere near enough. Bafflement turned to astonishment as I realised that some of the shots were being deflected off of clothing, never mind the chainmail that had been no real protection earlier. I waved Julie and McNulty over, and pointed at the group.
"You seeing that?" I asked, "What the hell is going on?"
"Magic," said McNulty, "Look, you can see blue sparks when the arrows land." He was no expert on the subject, but such a sight would be recognisable to any resident of this world as a magical phenomenon.
I examined the shieldwall, and saw what the captain was talking about immediately. They were faint and easy to miss if you weren't watching out for them specifically. A horrible feeling entered my gut, as I realised that everyone was now in huge danger. Julie, Tam, the soldiers, they were vulnerable to whatever mage was about. And I would be vulnerable to the enemy troops once my own were dead or wounded.
"Oh no you don't!" I shouted as I rushed over to the reason why I had selected this particular spot for the ambush, aside from the cover. I rested my heavy firelance on its bipod, on top of a chest-height rock by the side of the road, and sighted the close-ranked troops. They were maybe fifty yards away, enveloping their injured and dead liege-lords in a protective wall. There was no missing them.
I opened fire, the firelances pouring a stream of hot metal at the doomed men-at-arms. Tracers laid through the mass, as the magic deflected maybe one of the bullets per man before failing entirely. I had nearly two hundred shots to fire, and none of them were going anywhere except directly at a poor soul with no idea that his or her entire way of fighting had just become obsolete. Julie joined in with her own firelance, and then her handcannon when that ran dry. It was a bloodbath. Half of the enemy number died in the space of a minute, trying to shelter from the flying metal behind their shields. So close was their formation that many remained standing even after death.
It was ugly carnage, and I disliked looking at it even as I created it.
Half was still half less than I had expected though, the magic had managed to save that much. Several bodies slumped out of the shield wall, either gravity pulling them to the ground or the corpses being shoved out of the way by the living. Still, the wall stood. They were tough, or at the very least, had opted for the fight option of fight or flight. I guess running away seemed redundant against my firepower.
Peeking just over the top of the shields, I spotted a staff waving and recognised the motion immediately. Armen had shown it to me on the first day we met.
"DOWN!" I shouted, diving behind the rock as the enemy shieldwall opened up to allow the passage of the attack to come.
The bolt of lightning blasted like a cannon shot out of the enemy line and directly towards ours. Being electricity, you couldn't follow it, you just saw the flash and the afterimage of where it had been for a split second. The effects were grizzly, however. Instead of striking as a single blow, the bolt burst in the midst of the platoon and fizzled between the air and the ground via the men and women. They shook with convulsions, their muscles' spasms dropping them to the ground with dull metallic booms. I wasn't sure if they were dead or not, but I feared the worst when blood started out of their ears and mouths.
My mind raced for the solution to this, as another lightning bolt burst nearby, thankfully only shocking a few people as they dragged those who had already been hit badly away behind trees again. I knew I was outgunned. At least, while the meatshield was in the way. And therein was the answer.
"Charge," I said quietly into my radio, "All of you, charge!"
A great yell went up. A rebel yell. Soprano's people charged out of the trees, swords and spears out, screaming and shouting as they came down the embankment they had been hiding on. White Mask's men, knowing they'd be slaughtered if they were boxed in, countercharged on command. The bubble made of shields and men dispersed and what happened afterwards was utter chaos. The two sides ended up fighting their own personal fights. We would have had the advantage, the numbers were with us, but everywhere was under the influence of magic.
I scanned the scene for who I was looking for, and found him.
The mage was in the middle, two bodyguards with him, sending smaller bolts of ball lighting around with a spin of his staff. There could be no doubts that he was the mage to begin with. The robes were distinctive, and almost identical to those that Armen had. This struck me as incredibly stupid, marking out the most powerful weapon in your arsenal for any idiot to see. The Qunari and the Tevinters do the same thing. They might as well just wear a neon billboard shaped like a bullseye. That's certainly what I took it to be.
"Julie, you follow right behind me, cover me," I said, unclipping my firelance and putting it down, "Right behind, you hear me?"
Julie looked at me with the wide eyes of a new soldier, and nodded. She got the idea. I pat her on the shoulder, and drew my mace and kiteshield. I ordered the barbed wire withdrawn, and we waded into the fight, directly for the target.
Of course, other fights managed to get in the way of us. A quick swipe from behind with my mace or a burst from Julie's firelance ended the lives of any of the pretender's thugs. Which was great, because my soldiers who had been fighting them then rallied behind me and we drove a wedge right through to the mage.
The man proceeded to send more and more spells at me in a panic. The electricity was a slight tingle as I walked almost casually towards its source. The bodyguards' nerves remained solid though, and they stood fast in front of the man to challenge me. Foolish I thought, as I had about a dozen with me.
"Step aside," I said, pouring as much malice into the words as I could.
They responded by coming at me. A huge two-handed axe swung down at me, which I caught with my kite shield. The metal and wood split from the force of the impact, and my retaliatory swing was short. Julie shot the other man with her handcannon, who fell to his knees and then on his face. The mage sent lightning bolt at me, which dissipated instantly but blinded me.
The axe fell towards my shoulder, but when it struck, had too little force to do anything other than bruise me. I had thought to be going to the hot place, as I saw the blow fall too late to do anything about it. Another quick look, and I saw the reason for the sudden loss of power to the strike. A black feathered arrow stuck out from underneath the thug's armpit. He fell against me, and I bounced him away with my fist, full of rage for a moment.
I looked up into the forest and blew Tam a kiss. She smirked as she nocked another arrow and let it loose on another poor bastard. I turned my attention to the mage. The din of battle was quietening down, and I could tell we were winning by his face.
He had used the time I provided to start building up a huge charge with his staff. I held my hand up for the others to wait behind me, before stepping forward a little more, arm and mace outstretched to either side of me.
"Go on, take your best shot!" I said, perhaps unwisely. Relying on my … ability solely could have backfired, for all I knew, but I needed to find out. What better way than a test with someone very definitely trying to kill me.
With an animalistic shout, he let loose with the electrical attack. It was practically a laser beam, solid light. He caught me dead centre with it for several seconds. What's more is that it was silent, at least at first. I could hear the gasps of horror from behind me, the ring of swords colliding with shields and flesh, and even the rain patting the ground. When it ended, a massive cracking thunderclap filled the air. I blinked away the afterimages, unable to see clearly for a moment.
"Well, that tickled," I said to him, still somewhat dazed.
"W-what are you!" he shouted, lowering his staff, "Demon!"
"Not a demon, sorry," I said, not actually sure, "If I had to guess, I would say fallen angel. Or dead."
In an act of terrible and terrified desperation, the mage tossed aside his staff and drew a dagger from the back of his hood. Without a word, he ran at me, blade raised. I sighed, knowing what would happen next.
Julie shot him in the head, and he fell face first into the mud, blood and corpses at our feet.
The aftermath of the battle was messy.
First thing I did was have most of our survivors fall in for inspection, to keep up discipline but also make sure they were doing okay. They weren't. Most of them looked sick, blood-splattered and tired. Even as they lined up, I could tell. There were also fearful looks at me that I should have anticipated. After all, I had just revealed one of my great secrets. In order to save their lives, of course, and many understood that, but it doesn't change the fact that I just waltzed through Fade-lightning like it was less bothersome than the rain. Which it was.
When they were lined up down the road a little, away from the bodies, I decided I needed to say something.
"Nasty business," I said, "Had to be done. Over the next few days, some of you are going to feel like crap. Others will want more of the same. I'd ask you to just remember that we did this because we would all be going hungry otherwise. We couldn't grow enough crops to feed everyone before now, and we didn't have the money to buy food either. I hope you'll all forgive me for bringing you here."
"Yes, sir," came the loud reply, lacking in real enthusiasm but sincere nonetheless.
Julie stepped forward beside me.
"Also remember that none of you are slaves," she said, "They steal from us every year, and worse. Most of you know me, you've seen the same things I have. The chevaliers that ride through, taking what and who they want. The wars and blood feuds we don't want. Battles we have to fight in or die by the hands of our fellow Orlesians. Yet when darkspawn or Avvar raiders come down from the mountains, we are left to die until a noble's property is threatened. When famine hits, we go hungry, they eat cake. When a plague comes, we go sick, they get healed by pet mages. And I ask you all, do we deserve this?"
Julie pointed to the dead royalists.
"You have sent a message today. Andraste freed us from the magisters. She did not die so that we could be enslaved again. That is our money in those wagons, not Celene's, not Gaspard's. What we gave their soldiers is what they deserve! Things can change, and they will change."
That seemed to restore the morale of the entire group. than what I had said. I was taken aback, but quietly dismissed the troops to start the process of looting the dead. Which they did as ordered, taking weapons mostly. We didn't have time to strip off armour.
"Well sir, we won," said McNulty, "Hope it was worth it." So did I.
"Of course it was," replied Soprano, "Now, if you'll excuse us Marquis, we must see to the new horses." Two of which had been earmarked for their use. They both saluted me, and I returned the gesture, before the pair walked off down the road.
Julie looked on for a moment with me, before turning with a intake of breath.
"So, now the war begins, I guess?" she said, "And your secret is out."
"I wouldn't go that far," I frowned, "It's not like anyone will know who did this, and I don't think they'll be yapping about me walking through a personal thunderstorm too quickly either."
"It was bloody," said Julie, turning back to the carnage.
"Yeah, I was hoping we'd get out of this without a scratch," I said, "Didn't know they had a mage." I felt a little guilty about the plan going to the wall, but knew that it went wrong because I didn't have all the facts. The casualties were inevitable. Seven dead, twenty wounded. The latter was mostly walking wounded, although some would have to ride in the carts with those who weren't so lucky. We had a day's march home.
"On the bright side, those wagons look full," said Julie, nodding towards them, "And we managed to catch another twenty horses." Which was true, but didn't make me feel much better. Later it turned out that the chevaliers hadn't kept records of who paid what, which would complicate things.
"What about this one?" said Tam from behind. I jumped a little. She had been down the road, last I saw her.
A quick reorientation and the sight of an injured chevalier on his knees looking up defiantly met me. Blue eyes, brown hair, dueling scar and a big nose. Not exactly pretty, but not particularly ugly either. He was held by Tam at his shoulders, which kept him firmly down. Julie and I looked at each other in confusion.
"Who is this?" asked Julie, "One of the horsemen?"
Tam smirked, and held up a mask. A white mask. I chuckled heartily, not believing my luck.
"Well well," I said, "Aren't you the lucky bunny?"
White Mask remained silent, like he was being talked to by a cockroach or something. Angered by his attitude, I gave him a wide open-handed slap to regain his attention. The side of his face turned a bright red, even as rainwater fell down it. Autumn weather, another uncooperative force.
"That's for insulting my fiancé," I said.
"You're all dead," he replied, "When Gaspard finds out..."
"He won't," I said with certainty, "No one will." He did, in fact.
Tam's dagger sailed from its scabbard and across his throat, unleashing a waterfall of blood from the man's neck. Leaving him alive just wasn't an option. We couldn't ransom him, we couldn't imprison him, and we couldn't let him go.
"And that was for the people you got killed," I added, just as the man expired. Tam let the body go and began cleaning her dagger in the way she did after most kills. Julie looked slightly displeased, and I inquired.
"Were you supposed to do that?" she asked in return, "I mean, he was our prisoner."
"He would have seen you two beaten and raped, me murdered," I replied, "It's war now. You said it yourself."
Julie grimaced, still displeased. Still idealistic. She hadn't yet had the experience that would mould her into the more pragmatic type. I found her admirable for caring about the life of someone who hated her nonetheless. I gave her a quick kiss, and then did the same to Tam. The Qunari blushed, God help me.
"Now let's go home," I said. The others nodded, smiling.
If I had known what was waiting for me there, I might have went on a little vacation detour for a few weeks. But I didn't, so we completed piling our dead and wounded in with the money and weapons on the wagons, and rode home, the rain finally stopping as we started off.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: As you can probably tell, I don't like training montage chapters... so I rode over it. I think it works to get to the interesting stuff.
This may or may not be the last chapter in Outlander until late November-early December. As I wrote before, November will be a Mass Effect month. Work will still continue on this, but it will be slow. It was supposed to be a story to unblock myself for Battlefield 2183, and here we are, something like 150,000 words later. So, those stories will get the love for now.
Zezia: I've already answered you by PM, but I think I'll copy what I said there to here. Google "Boxes of 5.56mm ammunition" and you'll see that it doesn't take up that much space. The boxes aren't that large, containing 800-900 rounds linked or otherwise, so you could fit plenty into a helicopter, or as in Sam's case, onto a four-wheeled flatbed wagon.
Firelance is merely a word for a firearm, a gun. Sam uses the word specifically to mean an assault rifle, sniper rifle or light machinegun. Most of the time, just the first of those. The "big" or heavy firelance refers to the other two. As for what weapons specifically, I'll refrain from listing them off here as I did in the PM.
Appreciate the questions though.
5 Coloured Walker: So the first domino falls...
Judy: Always glad to hear feedback from you.
Comavampure: That was the impression I was trying to give, that the Warden and Sten were close. Considering they're both quite aggressive characters in this canon, it made sense to me.
As for the rest, barricades in Val Royeaux isn't quite where this is going... Though you can see that it's where Julie would like it to by now.
Cheers for the endorsement in your own story, by the way.