Chapter Twenty-One: Common Sense
To those reading in the distant future, or those who don't follow history, it may appear at this point that I was by far the most prominent person in our little project. This is far from true. I was and remain a great soldier, an average general with access to technology above anything in Thedas, but a terrible politician, despite having studied politics in academia. I suspect many of you have guessed this from my intention to invite the mages to L'Ambassade. It seems like such a bad move to anyone from Thedas. Perhaps that is why Sister Nightingale allowed me to proceed.
The mages' arrival marks the moment when the people who would actually decide the course of events began to assert themselves, namely Julie Marteau and Tam. If this is the Peacekeeper's Tale, they are more responsible than anyone else for enabling what I did to come to pass. The others played their part, of course. The catalyst was the mages themselves.
We spent the night in the Wolf's Lair, sleeping in the beds of the Templars we had killed. There seemed to be far more beds than Templars, incidentally, which probably said quite a bit about the situation they found themselves in. No one was much in the mood for conversation. I was tired, as was Tam. Leha was brooding over my real identity and what would happen next. Armen was sequestered with the mages, healing them and my injured soldiers. McNulty was drunk with his circle of close underlings. Soprano was silent in a corner, a frown on her face. Sister Nightingale scribbled furiously in candlelight, next to a stack of cages with the ugliest and largest black crows I had ever seen. So, I went to sleep and awoke late the next morning very refreshed.
A change of clothes from my Earth combat uniform to the new stuff from Thedas was the first order of the day. I didn't want to intimidate anyone too much, so I wore only a handcannon, my composite vest and my beret over them. I had slept in the Commander's quarters, and had a small search of it. Plenty of documents, none of which I could read well, and a small chest of money. I tucked the latter under my arm and left the room for the mess hall in good spirits.
Gold is a strange thing. I had never seen much of it before on Earth, our currencies aren't made of gold anymore, but by this point I began to understand why they used to be. I decided to share the good spirits.
I weaved through the buildings, some with tired looking soldiers in their doorways. Much of the night had been spent moving Templar bodies and collecting weapons. We hadn't burned them yet, simply piled them in the mines and locked the gates. The drinking started soon after that, along with bathing. The party atmosphere even spread to the mages, who proceeded to eat up as much of the Templars' food as possible. Nothing quite like seeing twelve year olds drinking ale. In retrospect, that such a thing happened at all was a testament to the faith put in me by my fighting men and women. Their accommodation of the mages was stunningly fast. Not everyone would be as tolerant in the days to come.
So, with a good night's rest behind me, a victory under my belt that had cost me no lives, a full belly and a warm atmosphere, who better to dampen my mood than Sister Nightingale? I turned a corner and into view of the mess hall entrance, and found her staking out the place with three mages. Two humans and one elf. Not wanting to deal with the Chantry spy without backup from Tam or Ciara, I prepared to about face and escape. However, I spotted the other member of their party. Delrin Barris. Who should have been under armed guard in a cellar, but the Templar was inexplicably without escort and his hands weren't tied. I called for Tam over the radio.
"Marquis, a moment of your time," the Sister said, as she paced towards me intently. Wanting to groan inwardly, I simply put on my best interested face and tried not to be short with her in light of her breaking a prisoner out.
"Certainly, Sister Nightingale," I replied with no small degree of false politeness, which had the dignifying effect of taking her aback. Hilarious.
"I thought you would like to meet the leadership of the mages, and talk over their decision," the Sister replied, suppressing any retort with complete ease, "The senior enchanters talked throughout the night on the subject."
This confused me. "Their decision? I thought we had already made the decision," I said, "The mages aren't going with you and that's final. This better not be why the Templar is out of his chains." My eyes flickered to the man in question for a moment. He seemed unperturbed that I wanted him detained.
"Whether or not we go with you is not your choice to make, Marquis," said the eldest of the mages. She had a strange accent, familiar enough to me as one from a country on Earth. Her words were not pleasing to me however, however familiar an accent they were said in.
"It seems to me like it is," I retorted, advancing towards them, "Without me, you'd be rotting in that cage or dead, and I can't give you leave to go elsewhere as you might spread word of my capabilities." The ones they knew about, anyway. I needed the mages to back me up when the Templars or anyone else came knocking, as they almost certainly would now. The mages themselves clearly needed protection too. Their complete lack of grace after being rescued was infuriating.
The Sister stepped forwards between us.
"Perhaps we have gotten off on the wrong foot," she said in a conciliatory tone, "They do not intend to bring harm to you. A round of introductions is in order." Her eyes locked with mine, pleading with me. Defused entirely, I blew an exasperated sigh out of my lips and backed off a step. Bloody Orlesian bards.
"Marquis, may I present Velarana of the Aequitarians, Adam Valle of the Lucrosians and Valeria Marable of the Isolationists," the Sister said, "Enchanters, this Samuel Hunt, Marquis de la Fayette and Peacekeeper of the United Nations." Velarana was a relatively young elf woman with short blonde hair and sharp eyes. She struck me as too smart by half. Valle was a middle-aged man with brown hair and beard with grey highlights. An insurance salesman was what came to mind when I examined him... not that it means anything here. Valeria Marable was a woman in her sixties, with soft eyes, though she had already demonstrated that she had a sharp tongue. All three wore the robes of the Circle, with differences in colour and jewelry between them but the common themes were obvious.
Annoyed that she had let a hint of my true identity into my titles, I gave them a curt nod. Until I realised there was someone missing. Armen had not skimped on details where the Circles were concerned.
"Where is the leader of the Libertarians?" I asked, "Dead?"
"There are only a hundred mages affiliated with that fraternity here," Marable said with a sniff of disapproval, "Their senior enchanter was killed during the Sundering. They have already voted to appoint your man as their leader. He is a hero to them." My man meaning Armen. I smiled at that. He was wise far beyond his years, if a little impetuous. Goes to show that book-learning isn't wasted on everyone.
"As if his ego needed more of a boost," I said, "Well, now that we are introduced, care to explain why we're changing the plan, Sister?"
"It is simply a modification, Marquis," the Nightingale replied with a wave of her hand, "The isolationists do not wish to join you, nor will they return to the Circles." That got my curiosity up. What did they intend to do, hide in the forest? Apparently not.
"Why?" I asked, "Surely it would be better to come with me, or at least attempt to beg mercy from the church?" Eyebrows raised at the last word, as it was foreign to the world, but the meaning was understood. I turned to the mages themselves for the answer.
"We cannot return to the Circle, the Templars would not allow us," Marable stated, "We cannot go with you either."
"Am I that offensive?" I asked in jest, "Or does my breath smell?" It seemed like they were being unreasonable to me.
"Can you guarantee that we won't be forced to fight?" asked Marable, leaning on her plain staff.
I began to understand why her faction was called isolationist. They were pacifists who only wanted to be left alone, not just disinterested in the debate over mage freedom. "No," I conceded, "In fact, I can guarantee you will have to fight if you come with me."
"Then we shall stay here," Marable continued, "We will rebuild the gate and live here, where we won't bother anyone or be bothered by anyone. Four hundred of us and the children will stay." She was adamant that it would be the case. Displeased at the development, I did consider attempting to appeal directly to the mages under her. I remain sure to this day that I could have convinced many of them to come too. However, to bring the children did seem like a poor choice. There would be hard fighting to come in the spring.
"I understand," I said at last, "I will send supplies to get you through the winter." No point leaving them entirely alone to starve in the snows. I couldn't let myself do it anyway, starving children to spite pacifists.
Marable was taken aback, as were the others. Kindness to mages in this era was, after all, a rarity. I do believe I even managed to surprise the Nightingale, if only because she was a radical on the subject of mage freedom herself.
"That is very generous," the Sister said, "You don't need to."
"On the contrary," I replied immediately, "I do need to."
I held out my hand for Marable to shake, and the Isolationist took it gently. I smiled warmly at her, and got one in return. I stepped aside as she left the rest of us, probably to deliver the news to her people. At least I wouldn't have the children to worry about. I had doubts later, about the Templars coming back, but the Sister assured me that they wouldn't even bother coming back to the prison. They had started executing anyone who didn't comply immediately. They had too much else to worry about, including me.
"At least you two will be coming," I said as I returned my attention to the other leaders, "Or have I got the wrong impression?"
"No, we'll join you," said Velarana with a frown, "It seems that we are rebels now whether we like it or not." Truer words were never spoken. This made the second prison they had broken out of.
"We Lucrosians are not fighters by nature," Valle added rather pompously, "However, the Templars will not allow us to conduct our business any longer. We require protection in numbers."
Necessity was a good start to any relationship in my view, so I offered my hand to them as well. I got a reluctant shake from Valle, but a warm one from Velarana coupled with a smile. I was pleased to see that their opinions were so transparent, though I figured that it was likely they had no experience dissembling in the first place. Circle mages weren't exactly conversing regularly with the man on the street at this point in history.
Tam arrived just as we finished the gesture, looked around for less than a second, before grabbing Knight-Templar Barris by the scruff of his neck. Valle flinched and stepped back a couple of paces, while Velarana watched with a frown.
"What are you doing out of your cage?" Tam asked him, bringing up her dagger to wave in front of his face.
"Tam, ease off," I said softly, "He's no threat." Not sure what reaction I would get out of the mages, I decided that having Tam open his throat wasn't the most productive. The Sister evidently agreed.
"That is another matter we need to discuss," the Sister said in a soothing tone, before turning into a more commanding one, "The Templar will be going with you."
That pissed me off, and I turned to her quickly with a hard grimace on my face.
"Yeah lady, that was sorta the plan," I said flippantly, "He's going to answer for his part in this." I had the plan all laid out. Trial, sentencing, punishment, in that order. After I had him pumped for information, since he seemed at least a little sorry for all of it.
Sister Nightingale did not appreciate my flippancy one iota. When she spoke next, her tone was dripping with malice, her eyes sharper than before, and her posture hostile.
"He is going with you to help protect your people against the mages," she said, "To give them the confidence they need to accept their presence. Not to be executed at your whim."
"He's complicit with crimes against humanity," I replied coolly, "Nor are you in a position to give me orders." Her presumption had finally broken my patience. One person, however skilled, against my army or even myself alone was likely a dead one walking. I was getting the wrong end of the stick though.
"The Divine will need some sign that you are not an enemy of the Chantry," the Sister said, "If she does not receive word that you are willing to cooperate, she will direct the Seekrs and the Templars to direct you in force. Perhaps even with the help of Orlais. I have already sent word of your... abilities. You may be able to destroy armies, but you cannot destroy the Chantry or the Empire alone." All of which was true or likely to be true.
My calculations in my head against her assertions came up short, but my anger at her did not subside much. To be ordered around by the Divine in such a way was frustrating, though given that I had just been used in the greater conflict between the Templars, the Divine and the rebel mages, it is hardly surprising. Justinia was just some far off figure with power and no regard for the common person to me. How wrong I was.
"Can I speak?" Barris asked, standing up and shrugging off Tam's hand, though her dagger remained ready.
"Depends what you're going to say," I replied, crossing my arms.
"What we did here was wrong," the Templar said, "But I was only acting under orders. I would have been expelled from the Order or worse if I had defied the Knight-Captain." Nice try, but no joy. 'Acting under orders' was a line older than I was.
"The Nuremburg defence won't buy you any time from me," I snarled back, "More men than you know have hid behind the 'I was just following orders' line." I won't get into the crimes of the Nazis here, I have put that to paper elsewhere, most notably in An Incomplete History of Earth, but rounding up people you don't like and abusing them does feature on the list. The Templars weren't quite at the same level. Yet. They hadn't graduated to outright genocide.
"Denam was a fanatic," the Sister interjected, attempting to placate me, "He's among the most zealous of the Knight-Captains." I didn't feel that was relevant. I just kept remembering my first sight of the mages behind the metal bars from the night before. My good mood had been utterly ruined as a result, as you can probably guess.
Tam sighed loudly, drawing the attention of us all. She stood up straight and away from Barris, and sheathed her dagger. "Sam, we should not fight the bas Chantry," she said softly, "We have enough enemies. Even the Qun recognises when compromises must be made. Let the Templar come with us as a free man."
"Why?" I asked, "We're already in trouble with the Empire and your own people, why not add the Chantry to the list?"
"They're not my people any more," Tam responded, "You and Julie are, and I do not wish to see you harmed." A strange thing to say, considering that the three of us were the least likely to be harmed before we could either escape or kill an aggressor.
"I thought you were confident we could survive," I said, "What's changed?"
"Against almost anyone else, I am," Tam replied, before pointing at the Sister, "But against her? I think we'd lose."
I was intrigued. Nightingale was almost certainly the most dangerous person I had come across on Thedas so far, but not to the extent that I would have worried. My weapons and combat training were certainly better. There are more ways than I know to fight, however. I looked to the Sister, who was maintaining a neutral visage in the midst of the mages' confusion. Nothing to be read there.
"I could shoot her to pieces right now," I said, making sure to indicate via my tone that it wasn't my intention to do so, "She'd be unable to stop me."
Tam looked over the Sister again before speaking, as if working something out in her head. Finally, she nodded to herself.
"Her real name is Leliana," the Qunari said, "This is the Orlesian bard that travelled with the Hero of Ferelden during the Blight. The one the Arishok likes to talk about. I would guess that she has already sent a message to her Chantry, with orders to rally the Templars and the Empire to attack us together if she does not return alive."
Which would have screwed us entirely. We could take on any power individually, as they were bound to underestimate us, but getting tag teamed by two or more influential groups with a full understanding of my capabilities simply wasn't going to work. I recognised the danger immediately, albeit with a great deal of frustration. My urge to blast holes in the Sister increased, but my head won over my heart. I clicked my tongue in my dissonance, but kept my audible complaints to that alone. I turned to the woman in question one last time. She had a small smile on.
"Well then, Leliana," I said, "I guess I have no choice."
"No, you do not," Leliana replied with a small bow, "Sam."
That was the end of the high dissatisfying conversation.
We left the Wolf's Lair the next day, our numbers boosted by six hundred mages and fifty "Tranquil", all of whom I was very glad to have join us. Of course, only the hundred Libertarian mages could actually be counted on to be able to fight, but as I have said elsewhere, direct use of such valuable individuals on the battlefield was a waste. Not that we could afford to dismiss their help in that regard at that time. With us went a couple of dozen more horses, several more chests of valuables, the nightscope we had recovered from the gatehouse, and two thirds of the supply of the magical substance lyrium the Templars had stashed in wagons.
We had cunningly disguised the mages in less conspicuous clothing for the journey, some of them even donning Templar chainmail. We stripped out the armoury too, and now had the means to equip another two hundred soldiers when we got back. Which we did. Overall, I was extremely pleased by the haul. So much so that my festive mood returned as I watched the long line of wagons moving.
The trip was slow going, as we couldn't maintain a military pace with so many of the mages being greatly weakened by their experience over the last few months. Hiding out in the wilderness and then being tossed into a cave without much food doesn't exactly put weight on the bone. Some of them were entirely unable to walk for more than fifteen minutes, and the worst cases were put on the wagons. I sent riders ahead to inform everyone back home that we were on the way, so that preparations could be made.
Leliana left us near the end of our march to return to Val Royeaux to report to her superiors, riding with the columns. I had some brief talks with her on the subject of the Blight, and got a little more information about the Hero of Ferelden. The answers about Morrigan intrigued me the most though. The Sister thoroughly disapproved of her methods, but seemed to respect her in a strange sort of way. I wasn't getting the full story there no matter how much I pressed, and I knew it, so most of the conversation was about technical details. Blight sickness, darkspawn numbers, the nature of their taint, and the response of the various nations at the time. It would be useful later.
We finally returned a few days later than expected, marching up the avenue of trees with a sprinkling of snow falling, presaging the amount we'd get in the weeks to come. I was in front with Tam and Ciara, Armen and Leha were a good bit behind in the middle of the formation with the rest of the wagons. Soprano was on hand nearby too with Mike, ready to deliver orders at a word. I wanted to be the first to see what was going on and have the ability to react immediately, to make sure our home was still in our hands.
Waiting for us were four figures on horseback, alongside the squad I had left to protect L'Ambassade.
One of the figures was Julie, though it was hard to tell at first because she was wearing her deep blue half-mask with red and white highlights that weren't easy to see from afar, her figure also being covered by her fur coat. I could understand the latter, all the others were wearing them, but I couldn't comprehend the former until we got closer. The Baron was in the middle, a striking a figure as ever in his red mask and blue heraldry atop his large horse. Even from a distance I could tell he wasn't pleased, and the reason why was obvious. Revered Mother Brandon was out in front of him on her more modest pony. You would think that she would have sent my stomach reeling in panic, being as I was arriving with hundreds of supposedly apostate mages. You would be right too. She was the object of my attentions right until we got into proper earshot.
The fourth figure was familiar to me in the worst way possible; Cécile des Arbes, my prosecutor at the mockery of a trial I was subjected to at Halamshiral. Red masked aristocratic contempt and all. It looked like the jig was up for me, though doubts began niggling in my mind when I completed failed to see hundreds of Orlesian Army soldiers waiting to arrest me. In fact, I couldn't even see any of the Baron's usual guards. Despite this, I felt that caution was the better part of valour.
"Tam, get your sword out," I said quietly as we approached. She complied immediately, though not without a curious look. She gave the blade a wide swing before bringing it to rest across the front of her saddle, likely to insure those ahead of us saw it. Ciara joined her by taking her bow off her back and nocking an arrow. The cleric displayed some concern with the gestures at least, which lifted my spirits.
Julie had Revas trot around the woman and came up to us with a smile, and an infectious one at that. I was grinning like an idiot as she took off her mask. She leaned over to give Tam a hug and a kiss, before leading her horse around to do the same to me. I felt immensely relieved. Not only because it was a sign that things were okay, but also because I had survived to see her again. I have no doubts Tam felt the same way.
"It's good to see you all," said Julie, giving Ciara a hug, "We were expecting you yesterday."
"The mages slowed us down," the Dalish girl replied, "What's going on?"
"Things have developed since you were away," Julie said, "We were almost in trouble there for a moment." There was no difficulty in seeing why.
"I am sure you pulled us out of the fire just in time," Tam smiled, "I don't see any army to subdue us."
"Just the Baroness I'm afraid," replied Julie flippantly, looking at me, "She thinks you're a murderer."
"I know," I replied, "Is that going to be a problem?" I already knew it wouldn't be.
"She's not happy about something else now," Julie responded, putting her half-mask back on, "Come on, they're waiting."
We followed Julie on horseback towards the Baron, but were intercepted by Mother Brandon about half way. I already had a plan for dealing with her objections, but it didn't make me think of her as less of a nuisance. My jaw clenched shut as she began speaking, so as to avoid saying anything untoward. I waved the column to continue to unpack the wagons behind the château, while I spoke with the cleric.
"Marquis, is it true that you have come back with apostates?" she said, "There have been the most fantastic rumours." That amused me. I often wonder if I could have avoided trouble by simply living up to the rumours as opposed to denying them. Better to be feared than loved, as both Julie and an old Florentine would say.
"My soldiers are fine, by the way," I said, ignoring her point and not-so-subtly pointing out her failure to inquire about their well-being, "No casualties, just a few new scars." To her credit, the Revered Mother was taken aback.
"My apologies, Marquis," Brandon said quickly, "I did not mean to ignore the plight of your fighting men and women." She seemed sincere, and so I decided to quit stalling. She didn't know any better than what she was taught, after all. Perhaps she was worried that word would spread of her ignoring her flock's spiritual needs, but I relaxed a little regardless.
"Six hundred mages of the Aequitarian, Lucrosian and Libertarian factions are now under my protection and supervision, along with fifty Tranquils," I said, "I hope you will help me integrate them into our community." Translation: I expect you to stand aside and do your job without meddling. I was getting more used to the formal Orlesian language, as you can probably see. The Mother was having none of it.
"Marquis, as much as it would please me to do so, the Chantry's position is clear, magic must serve man," Brandon replied, "Not to mention that due to the events in Kirkwall, almost everyone is afraid of the creatures." That set me off.
"Maybe they would find it easier to serve man if preachers did not lock them away like slaves," I retorted angrily in Common, "Or call them creatures rather than people." I nudged Bellona with my heels to ride off. The Mother shouted after me, but I kept going.
It was almost a relief to see the Baron, though the dark cloud created by the presence of Cécile was still there. I saluted the man in the manner of my homeland, and now the manner of the Army, before taking off my helmet.
"We had a complete victory over the Templars," I said to the group, "Sorry for not telling you before, but I had to act fast. I will explain the details in a more... private setting. I hope you understand."
The Baron remained unchanged from his less than friendly standing, but I could not tell if it was now directed at me. A simple nod to acknowledge what I said was all I got out of him on the subject. I'm sure he would have liked to hear the tale, but that would have meant delaying something else.
"There is another matter..." he began reluctantly.
"Tell me, Marquis," the Baroness interrupted loudly, "Are you Clint Eastwood or Samuel Hunt? Or are you just a liar?" I almost had to take a breath. She was angry, as angry as I was with the Revered Mother a minute earlier, and the anger was not directed entirely at me. I felt sorry for the Baron, as I had put him in this position. Albeit unknowingly.
"Lord Samuel Hunt, Marquis de la Fayette," I said, smoothing over the problem as best I could, "That is my true title." It wasn't when I had met her, but it would be forever more. She didn't need to know that detail though.
"You stood accused of murder," the Baroness said, "I should have you arrested and dragged in chains back to Halamshiral." Hilarious idea.
"Then I'll be glad to present my agreement with the Baron," I replied flatly, "I wonder how the court will look upon nobles who make common cause with murderers." Not well, if the noise the Baroness made in response was any indication.
"We can have the chevaliers kill you," she continued, "There would be no charges against us if we did so." The switching over to the use of the collective 'we' from 'I' was poor attempt to solicit support from the Baron, and one that was made completely pointless by the colossal moan that he let out in response. Julie and Ciara practically laughed at the notion, but managed to suppress outright giggles with varying degrees of success. Even I thought it was pretty funny.
Tam was far less amused. She pointed her longsword at the Baroness. "No chevalier will pass these gates without permission and live," she growled through her wicked smile, "Try it." The Baroness returned an icy stare, which didn't bother Tam in the slightest. Yeesh. Not exactly what I would have planned had the eventuality come to pass, but it was effective.
The Baron rolled his eyes, a gesture still visible through his mask, and stopped the nonsense immediately. "Right, that's enough," he said, to both Tam and the Baroness, "There will be no disruption of the peace. Cécile, you are too stubborn, let it go." I have to admit I was with him on this.
"Why should I?" replied the Baroness, "We are risking everything by having him here." Which was very true, though not for the reasons she was assuming or for ones that any of us yet knew.
"Marquis, I came to thank you for recovering our gold and silver from the collectors. You have abided by the terms of our pact with honour," the Baron said, "And to discuss this... mage situation before I depart to Halamshiral for the winter." He handed over a roll of documents, which I presumed were instructions of what to do while he was away. I would have opened them up then and there, as I wasn't sure what he expected of me. If it wasn't for the presence of one particular annoyance.
"The mages cannot stay!" Mother Brandon declared, "They are too dangerous. We have no Templars should they summon demons!" She neglected to mention why the hell they would start summoning demons in the first place. The mages weren't going to do anything that foolish, they weren't anywhere near that desperate. Not to mention that most of them were of the moderate factions that looked upon that sort of thing as a huge betrayal of everything they stood for.
However, I looked around and saw agreement with what she was saying, at least on some level. The Baron and Baroness were both looking to my for a rebuttal. I didn't really care about their opinion, they could do nothing against me and the Baron knew it even if the Baroness didn't. No, it was Julie and Tam who made me do something stupid. They had long shared fears about mages, reflective of the general mood of the population. They were torn between their loyalty to me and the possibilities of something going wrong. I could deflect the attack of one mage, but what could I do about hundreds.
Just then, Armen and Leha were passing by on our old wagon. It gave me the idea for the demonstration that would provide my first real measure of fame.
I called them over, and turned to the group assembled.
"You'll want to dismount," I said, "The horses might get scared." Everyone complied, and the stable boys took the horses away to the stables at the other side of the compound. Armen and Leha walked through the light coating of snow, dodging the next platoon of troops marching along before resuming a more casual pace. Both looked curiously at me.
"What is this?" Leha asked flatly with a wave of her hand, "A party."
"Something like that," I chuckled, "Armen, assemble the mages on the parade ground facing away from the buildings. Those most capable of fighting go front and centre. Bring out the Templar too, he should find this entertaining."
The mage raised an eyebrow, but grinned in the way that he does before nodding. He wandered off, speaking into the mouthpiece of his radio. I waved for the others to follow me, as the wagons went by.
It took about fifteen minutes before the mages were gathered. Soprano, having heard the order from a distance, had also got her skirmishers together, presumably for the protection of our little town. Many of the ordinary citizenry were turning out as well, as word spread that the mages had arrived. The gawking had begun in earnest. Delrin Barris watched too, away from much notice as he had been stripped of his Templar garb for the trip. All of which would play into my hands.
"Revered Mother, I'll prove to you that the mages are no threat," I said, "And to everyone else." The cleric narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. She watched, as I wanted.
"Marquis, what do you intend?" the Baron asked, glancing around at the gathering crowds, "To have them swear an oath of allegiance?" How typical of the thinking of a noble. Just like with my 'vassals', I would eventually speak to each of them individually to place them in the best occupation for their talents. That was for later, though.
"Better," I replied, "All of you, stay here." I marched out into the wide plaza in front of the mages, about a hundred yards away directly ahead of them.
"Sam, what are you doing," Julie asked over the radio, "Come back." She had realised what I was going to do.
"Can't, sorry," I replied, "They need to see this, and I need to know."
Armen moved out of the mass of mages, Velarana with him. He put up his hands, indicating that he had done what I had asked and wondering what was next. I gave him a thumbs up, before taking my kite shield into my left hand and my handcannon in my right. Finally, I tossed aside the warm riding cloak that had been around me, revealing my Earth-panoply. Lastly, remembering how blinding Fade-lightning could be, I put on my sunglasses. I was ready.
"Tell the mages to kill me," I shouted, "With everything they have."
A wave of consternation rippled through the mages first, before infecting the civilians. Even the soldiers seemed disturbed, although less so given that some of them had seen me deflect lightning with no effort. Chattering and mumbling rumbled through the cold air. Yet no one moved to attack, to my annoyance.
"Do it!" I roared, "That's an order!"
Velarana stepped forwards, ignoring Armen's private words.
"Are you testing us?!" she shouted back, "We would never attack someone who was not our enemy!" The Aequitarian's grasp of public relations was sublime, apparently. Her declaration sent reassured whispers through the civilians, an unexpected bonus to what I had planned. I had forgotten entirely that the mages were not a military force. They were entirely unused to taking orders, never mind ones that instructed them to attack their liberator. Almost none of them had ever killed before.
"The test isn't for you!" I boomed, "Now attack me!" I raised my handcannon towards her, making sure that the safety was on. She knew what it was. So did the crowd. Still she did not attack. Thankfully, she didn't need to.
A young human mage behind, with a shaved head, finally cracked. To this day, I don't know why he decided to act, and I only ever spoke to him once. He spun his staff, before clenching it in his hands, and a flurry of white ice bolts sprang from the top in formation. They sailed towards me, and I knew already that they would not harm me. However, the dam had broken.
The front ranks erupted in spellwork, before the first volley had even hit me. All manner of dangers flew at me, but were deflected. Lightning bolts bounced off of me harmlessly. Great spikes of ice disintegrated into water as they approached me, soaking me to the skin. Fireballs the size of basketballs flew at me by the handful, only to dissipate on contact. It was like being punched lightly but repeatedly, as the physical force of some of the attacks did not stop until impact. It was extremely uncomfortable, but far from lethal. Most spells kill with effect rather than force, and their force was greatly diminished by my immunity too.
Someone even summoned what could only have been a meteorite from the sky. A green flash announced its arrival, a disturbingly familiar sight. I raised my shield immediately, expecting a demon, as I had no idea whether or not my immunity would defend me from the claws of such a beast. I need not have worried. The Fade-rock split into pieces on impact, the remains bouncing away to either side of me until it collided with the perimeter fence. That was the showstopper.
The tingling of the lightning stopped, replaced with the beginnings of shivering. The cold replaced the heat of the firebolts, and evaporating of the water from the icebolts ceased as a result. I peeked over the top of my shield, and then let that arm fall to my side. What I saw was almost comical.
Every mage looked like they had just watched a Pride demon sing Happy Birthday Mister President. Or more accurately, as if Andraste herself had. Mouths agape, staffs lowered, shoulders slouched, eyes wide. The crowds were in a similar state of shock. Hard to blame them. Not even the most capable Templar in Thedas could have withstood such a concentrated assault. Later of course, I realised upon analysing what had happened that my immunity did have its limits. That I felt anything at all from the spells was testament to that. However, to these men and women, I was something entirely unique. Or so we all thought.
I wasn't sure if Velarana had joined in the initial attack, but she looked at me with a new interest now.
As I was about to speak, she materialised a sword in her hand and leapt forwards into a Fade step, a magically assisted sprint that left a trail of ice behind her. Before I could react, she was within swinging distance, and swing she did. The magical blade struck me below the neck at the collar bone. It shattered, but not before delivering a blow akin to a bamboo cane.
I shuddered backwards with the pain, and rallied forwards in a fit of anger. I knocked the elf mage on her ass with a swipe of my shield, and levelled my handcannon at her. She looked positively terrified, and clambered backwards a little. Realising I had done what I needed to and feeling guilty for losing control for a moment, I holstered my weapon and offered my hand.
To my relief, she took it, and I helped her get up. She smiled, God help me.
The others approached, practically running. The crowd moved in as well, with shouts and cheers, but were restrained by Soprano's soldiers. Full credit to her reaction times. And so, Julie and Tam were first to reach me.
"How did you know that was going to work?" Tam asked, grabbing me to make sure I was okay.
"You could have died, you idiot!" Julie added, before bringing both Tam and I into a hug. I held them both close for a moment, glad I was still in one piece. It had been a massive gamble, and admitting this in writing now will have probably earned me a punch by the time you have read this. The pairs of green and violet eyes coolly pinpointed me, waiting for a response. I knew I had better make it good.
"The Revered Mother needed to see it," I replied, as the woman in question came nearer, the Baron and Baroness behind her.
"Indeed," said Velarana, "I doubt anyone could object now, after seeing you go through that. You have a gift." I thanked her in my head, for making the point for me. Julie and Tam conceded, as happy I was safe as I was.
"I wonder what the dear Mother Brandon will say," Armen declared, patting me on the shoulder, "It should be interesting."
In truth, her reaction was utterly exhausting and utterly unexpected.
The cleric approached, and called for silence, holding up her hands. She got it with alarming quickness. She budged Armen and Velarana over, slapping the former's hand when he tried to object. The crowd could see me clearly. She turned to me quickly.
"Marquis, you have my deepest apologies," she said, "I was wrong about you. There is only one thing left to do now." I had not a clue what she was talking about.
She stepped back, and looked to the crowd.
"The magic touched him, but he still stands! It is a sign from the Maker!" Brandon declared, her fiery preaching unleashed, "He has sent this man to protect us from the evils of the Fade! He has gathered these loyal mages for our protection!"
The crowd roared in agreement. Some of my soldiers joined in. Uh oh, I thought.
"He shall be the bane of demons and apostates alike!" Brandon continued, "Long live the Peacekeeper! Long live La Fayette!" She returned to my side, and went down on one knee.
"Long live the Peacekeeper!" the crowd shouted, "Long live La Fayette!" The chant repeated. The civilians followed their spiritual leader's example, taking a knee. Clenched fists swung upwards with every verse.
You really have to respect Mother Brandon for this. She was a wily one, to say the least. Where most preachers would have turned the mob onto me, in fear of being displaced, she knew that this was folly. I had soldiers and could have killed her with complete ease. I do not know whether it was deliberate or a complete fluke, but by aligning her cause with mine, she reinforced her position in our community. Needless to say, she remained as tedious as ever despite now supporting me. The fervour does that to people.
That doubt sprung to my mind immediately, but there was nothing I could do to reverse what she had done. Nor did I want to. She had done me a massive favour. She had legitimised me in the eyes of the believers.
I could not help but smile and wave, believing that things would at least be easier with the population's doubts erased. Perhaps it would have been under different circumstances. I wasn't counting on Julie.
As I have stated previously, the admiration and worship I would receive was to pale in comparison to that of Julie Marteau.
Of course, I would remain famous and infamous for my immunity to magic, and Tam would soon be my equal, a figure of discussion and gossip as a Qunari prominent in a community that largely wasn't. One might wonder how we began to pale in comparison to her. The beginning of it undoubtedly was the aftermath of the Peacekeeper's Test, as my little demonstration began to be called.
The Baron and Baroness left for Halamshiral, to their quarters near the Winter Palace. Court life beckoned, as it did for most of the nobility in the Dales who wished to participate in the Great Game. The Baron's task for me was twofold; protect his land with my troops, and raise new levies. He hinted at the possibility of future conflict, quite subtly referring to the clash between the Empress and the Grand-Duke as well as the tax situation. Had I known what his contingency plan was, perhaps I would have shot him. Alas, I didn't, so I set about doing as he commanded. It fit with my own oath and role anyway.
The next two weeks were very busy.
Word came from Leliana from the north that she had successfully made contact with the Divine, and that her actions had been approved. Which was a great relief to me, as you can imagine.
With that worry off of my shoulders, I began to organise food distribution for some of the villages we knew would suffer later in winter, to head off any ideas about revolts or food riots. We had to modify some of the wagons with sled-skids, as the snow began to build up, but our people made it through easily enough. Julie often led those missions, for reasons you will discover.
The first new levies gathered from the estates of the Baron's vassal chevaliers arrived a week later, a good thousand men and women. I merged the best two hundred into my existing troops, offering them contracts as I had with everyone else. The Baron, perhaps knowing my ideas, sent elves as well as humans. Using the horses we had captured from White Mask and the Templars, I had a hundred of my best troops start training as lancers, while rotating all of my little army through horsemanship so they could be moved quickly once we bought more horses in the spring. The other eight hundred or so levies I had trained as pike and sword men, using the old methods from Earth empires, Macedonia and Rome. I had learned that the Orlesians used heavy cavalry, and had no desire to be unprepared for that.
We had to house many of these new people too, and so our forest got a little more thin as I put mages and carpenters to work on building yet more houses and facilities for the newcomers. Both mage and non-mage. Most of the former signed on as workers too, though those calling themselves 'knight-enchanters' preferred to sign up for the military side of things without being asked. I let that slide. I was sure most of them would be useful in the role anyway, and had them train in non-magical combat techniques with the new recruits. They didn't appreciate that much, but they did it anyway. Defying the guy who could slap them on the head after walking through their spells wasn't likely to be considered an option.
All of this was made easier by Revered Mother Brandon, whose sermons concerning me went from hostile to supportive in the space of a day. Tam helped immensely too, fielding questions about me with exceptional patience, and there were no shortage of those. The rumour that I was from another world had gotten out just as the news of my Fade immunity was spreading. This ironically played entirely into the hands of those who believed my presence was divine intervention. It also was most likely the reason for the events of Christmas, but those will be recounted in the next chapter.
I discovered Julie's first moves towards her destiny as Satinalia approached. That's the Thedosian equivalent of Christmas to us Earthlings, at least in Orlais. Though it's in November. It's closer to an open brothel party in some parts of the Free Marches, but I digress. Building work and food convoys were still ongoing as we came up on the date, and that brought its own trouble.
Leha and I were finally having that discussion about my origins, as I had finally heard that my 'other' secret was making the rounds. I don't remember many of the details, but it started off with my complaining to her about it and eventually ended up on the subject of the picture book we had somewhere. I took Leha to the library in the château to look for it. We searched, but didn't find it.
"It doesn't seem to be here," I frowned, rifling through the large lockbox that we kept the books in, "Some other stuff seems to be missing too." It seemed more empty than usual.
Leha put herself against the wall and crossed her arms, watching me search. She had been quite enthusiastic about seeing the proof. She was not appreciating the delay.
"Maybe Julie or the big one knows where it went," she said. That jogged my memory, for no particular reason.
"Ah, Armen had it," I said, recalling that he had ripped out a page and brought it with him weeks earlier, "Maybe it's in his lab."
We left the library and jogged down the staircase, before exiting into the inner square of the château. Ciara was there, tending to some winter flowers that she had planted on our return. They were blooming a brilliant purple, and I interrupted our search to compliment her.
"Those look damn good," I said, after greeting her, "You're a talented gardener."
Ciara nodded knowingly.
"My mother was the clan herbalist," she replied, "She would often plant seeds on our routes, not just for medicines but simply to brighten our way when we knew we would return by some path or another." The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, apparently. This was one of the few times that she ever spoke about her family. Of course, I had to go ruin it.
"I'm sure she'd be proud of you," I said, "You know where Armen is? I'm looking for the picture book, to show Leha." The dwarf was inspecting one of the flowers a little roughly, and I nudged her to stop. I got a glare for my trouble, which almost stopped me from seeing the suspect look on Ciara's face.
"Umm, I'm not sure exactly," Ciara replied sheepishly, "Maybe down by the residencies?" That was in the exact other end of our estate to Armen's labs, and the way she said it made me highly suspicious.
"Ciara," I said, a little more forcefully, "Where is Armen?"
"I don't know," she replied defiantly.
Leha hmmed to herself, before indicating to me to follow. Ciara let out an 'ah', and put her hand up as if to stop us, but it didn't work. The dwarf led me out of the château and towards Armen's lab. The chimney was smoking, so someone was in there I thought.
Leha opened the sliding doors to reveal pretty much the same scene that was always to be found there. Equipment and chemical jars everywhere. However, one thing was wrong. The furnace and the fireplace were both lacking any fire burning inside. In fact, they were clean, not even the remains of wood or turf inside them. That struck me as very odd, along with the fact that no one else was inside.
"Where's the fire?" I asked Leha, thinking it might have just been steam before remembering it would still take heat to create that effect.
"Where's Armen," Leha shot back, "Something's wrong here." The room was warm, yet there was no fire. My curiosity grew. I began looking around more closely, wandering the space until something gave a little under my feet near the door. There was a large but thin rug, supposedly there simply to stop any of the vials that might have fallen from the table nearby. I laughed at the cliché, kicking it away. The trap door was revealed.
"A basement?" Leha asked, "I didn't know this place had a basement?"
"Neither did I," I said, "Shall we go see what Armen wants to hide so badly?"
I went to unlock the door, but stopped when I noticed a sound. The sound of a machine moving leaked out of the cracks, but I couldn't figure out exactly what it was. Someone was down there, Armen most likely, I figured. Not wanting to alert him, I opened the trap door slowly, hung off the edge and dropped to the drop instead of using the ladder.
The space around me was quite a bit larger than the building above, the weight of the ground supported by arches. It wasn't quite as big as a warehouse, but it was clearly meant for storage. Candles lit the way to another door, still within the confines of the building upstairs, but I had to explore the rest of the space. There were more tables, and objects on them that I simply had to see for myself. Leha climbed down too.
"What is this?" she whispered.
"I think I know," I whispered back, picking something off the nearest table.
It was a firelance. A muzzle-loading, flint-lock firelance for use with gaatlok blackpowder. Nowhere near as advanced as the ones I used, but quite possibly hundreds of years ahead of what the Qunari had. It was something my ancestors might have recognised three hundred years before. It was more than half as long as I was tall, and the barrel was rifled. The craftmanship was precise too. I cocked the flint, aimed the weapon off of my shoulder and pulled the trigger. I got a satisfying ping as the hammer struck the stone off the steel, creating a spark.
There was only one person who could have crafted such a thing. It was only just within the technological capability of Thedas to create, and it could only have been created with knowledge from Earth. I looked around the place and saw a dozen more weapons along the same lines, all slightly different. The weapon's design was being refined.
I was seriously confused. This world was not ready for such weapons, and there were reasons enough to stay away from making them besides that. Reasons I had made perfectly clear to my entire group. I almost ran Leha clean over as I paced towards the far door, towards the sound of the machinery. I practically kicked it down, the firelance still in my hand.
I found Armen and Julie inside. The blacksmith looked up from reading something by a fireplace, the source of the smoke rising through the exhaust of the furnace. She looked absolutely astonished to see me, and not the least bit guilty. The mage was operating the machine, and the machine was almost certainly a printing press. A stack of blank paper was to one side of him, and a stack of bound prints was to the other. He at least had the decency to look guilty.
"What is this?" I asked, holding up the weapon, "Because it looks like a god damn musket."
Julie sat down on a stool, and bade Leha and I to sit. We did so, while Armen nodded to her, before continuing to check out the latest prints. The blacksmith sighed, and looked at me with honest eyes.
"I don't want to lie to you," she said, "It is exactly what it looks like." She reached behind her and picked up another firelance, this time with more refinements to the design. She placed the butt on the ground and held it up.
"You wouldn't give us the weapons, Sam," Julie continued, "And we knew we would need them. Orlais, the Templars, the Qunari... eventually someone is going to come and destroy us." Her tone pleaded with me to understand. I wavered, but my resolve rallied.
"I can't allow that to happen," she continued, "I won't let them take you, and I won't let them destroy what we are building." I really wish I had been kinder to her at this moment. It is painful to remember.
I was rendered speechless for a moment. It was a complete betrayal, even if it was all to save me. Julie was a determined, intelligent, caring person, but I could not accept that these things had led her to disregard my opinion so readily.
"Does Tam know?" I asked, wondering if it had been a conspiracy of sorts.
Julie shook her head. "Tam agrees with you," she said, "I asked her if we should do this months ago, and she said no. She thought that Orlais would steal our weapons and launch an Exalted March if we tried." Which was very nearly what happened.
"Obviously, you disagreed with that," I said, "Do you have the formula?" Referring to the gunpowder, there.
"I found it one of your military books," Julie said quietly, "Along with pictures that helped me make these." I looked down at the weapon laying across my lap.
In retrospect, I should have been glad she hadn't decided to make a full-blown cannon. Artillery is what wins wars, not small arms. I was too upset. I felt like I had been kicked in the chest. However, I had to deal with the reality of the situation, no matter how hard it was. I needed a moment to gather my thoughts, a moment that Leha provided.
"What's with the printing press?" the dwarf asked, thumbing behind her towards the machine, "That's a dwarf design too, or I'm not from Orzammar." The only people who possessed such equipment in Orlais were the Chantry and the Dwarva, which is probably why authors tended to live in the Free Marches where anyone could be published if they could sway a publisher. Though publishers there still tended to be dwarva too. Control the press, control opinion.
"Have a look," said Armen, handing us two of the prints. I needed the distraction, so I looked it over.
"Le Sens Commun," I read aloud, "For the peoples of the Dales, on the subject of your liberty and your ability to defend it." In Orlesian, of course.
Julie looked at me for a response, but I was in no mood to praise her, no matter how noble her sentiments.
"I hope the content isn't as plagiarised as the title," I growled, "You do realise that fomenting revolution will get us killed as quickly as showing up with weapons everyone wants?"
The blacksmith rolled her eyes at that. "War is coming anyway," she stated, "Celene and Gaspard will see to that." I scoffed, but could not actually deny the truth in that statement. Instead, I flicked through the pages.
"Andraste set us free from the magisters, yet the royal family have made us slaves again. Even the nobles must murder each other to speak for their natural rights before the Empress," Leha read aloud, before slamming the paper on the ground, "By the Stone, the Divine will send an Exalted March here if she reads this!"
Thankfully the Divine had enough on her plate to make that an impossibility, but she hardly needed to when push came to shove. I was glad at least Leha understood the danger.
"Here's a good line," I said sarcastically to her, "Andraste said that magic must serve man, but how can magic serve man when mages are locked away, their talents used for the health and amusement of the high nobility alone!" I stared at Armen, recognising his politics immediately in the text. He held his hands up.
"Don't look at me," the mage said, before pointing at Julie, "She added it after you decided to take a walk through magical thunder and fire." He damn well agreed with it though. I handed him back the pamphlet. It was outrageous.
"The weapons I could almost understand," I said to both of them, "But your people aren't ready for these ideas. They'll get boatloads of people killed." I felt that the Orlesian peasant was so inferior that I could not believe they could aspire to anything greater without a long period of adjustment. Many movements for change descended into the most horrific barbarism on Earth, and I expected the same would happen here. I possessed an arrogance about it, and Julie knew it.
"What, we're too stupid for our own freedom?!" she said, standing up, "I'm not sure it's your business, whether or not we want this." That set me off like a powderkeg.
"Just because you're willing to fight, doesn't mean you'll win! You're not a general!" I shouted, "Not every revolution succeeds, and some of those that do just make things worse!" No one in Thedas has experienced the revolutionary tribunal, the show trial, the forced conscription of millions for battles commanded by imbeciles. It has known evil, sure, but it has not known gulags or gas chambers. The names Stalin and Hitler do not ring out here like they do on Earth, despite my best efforts in other writings that I have disseminated widely. People are still far too willing to kill each other over race and religion, even in my new home. I wanted desperately to avoid that fate.
"Your people succeeded and built a great country!" Julie said, pouring every ounce of her determination into her voice, "I want a country too. If you don't like it, shoot me." I threw my hands up and turned away from her, before pinching the bridge of my nose. I couldn't say anything to that.
I gently but quickly kissed her on the cheek. I looked into her eyes, and mumbled an apology. I couldn't support Julie on this, but I wasn't willing to oppose her either. I left the room, ditching the firelance by the door forcibly.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: So... that happened. Only two more chapters in this volume, and they're both complete firecrackers. The next volume will be entitled "Revolution".
5 Coloured Walker: Cheers, your reviews are always appreciated.
Tactus501st: Happy dances are encouraged. Youtube it.
Mik3k: That typo should be fixed, though I'm sure there are more lurking about. Glad you're enjoying it.
Kelborn Ordo: Cheers.
Comavampure: Barris played a small role in this chapter, but he gets a great deal more time in the next.
Leliana definitely understands the threat posed by Sam. Question is, does he understand hers?
Asahar4: Thanks
Greyfox: Keep following it so, there's plenty more to come.
Knives91: Nope, shit will continue to hit the fan. First rule of plot: If things are going well, it's a trap.
Caesar12: Perfect is high praise indeed. Though if someone can explain to me what a D'Arcy fiction is, I'll pay them a princely sum.
Mireczek: Thank you.