Chapter Twenty-Five: The Barons' Revolt
My agreement to learn and participate in the rites of the Andrastian Chantry, while important to grow our support, was superseded as a priority due to the return of the nobility from the royal court. The bottom line was that I was taught the basics by a child, albeit a very bright and interesting one, and the points of contention within the religion by the much less interesting Revered Mother Brandon. The nobility was the real power in the country, and I couldn't co-opt them as easily.
Orlais would have been an unwieldy creature, had it not been for its centralised government. It was the largest and perhaps the most populous empire on Thedas, which presented serious problems for its governance. Nobles, distant and possessing great wealth and military forces of their own, would have been tempted to set up as monarchs in their own right, fracturing the Empire into a dozen or more pieces. Nevarra was militarised to avoid such a fate, and wasn't as extensive territorially anyway. Ferelden's monarchy ruled by consent of the nobility. Both lived under the threat of Orlesian conquest to an extent that made disunity suicidal. Orlais itself had no such threat to unite it, nor a system of government that prevented rebellion. Only Tevinter or the Qunari could hope to challenge its full might directly, and they were far too busy fighting each other.
To counteract this reality, the aristocracy spent every winter together in the Winter Palace at Halamshiral, a provision enforced by law. Where they could be watched, where they could be influenced, where their plots could be undone at the source. This is how the Emperors and Empresses of Orlais controlled the vast and sprawling bloodlines. It gave no shortage of opportunities to the nobles themselves of course, not only to fight for position among themselves but to aim higher. The Great Game was the great solution to Orlais' size.
There were only ever two important questions in Orlesian politics in the end. "Who would rule what piece of land?" and "Should we go to war?" The former was by far the most important, and every means to answer it were employed. The latter was an extension of the former, not always answered, and not always answered by the Orlesian themselves, as the Marchers, Fereldans and Neverrans could attest to. There were no questions about how society was run. There were no questions about the justice of keeping elves, Andrastian or not, locked up in ghettos. There were none about the wisdom of keeping most of the productive populace ignorant and downtrodden, rather than invested in the success of the Empire as a whole.
No questions of that sort, not openly. Until Julie Marteau came along.
Even among the nobility, her words were a naked flame to a tinderbox, setting off a wildfire of new questions. If Orlais was so great, how come it had been thrown from Ferelden, a tiny country with a mere twentieth of the population? How had it been thrown from the Free Marches by disorganised, treacherous rabble? How had the Neverrans stubbornly refused to be defeated? Why should the whole running of the Empire be dependent on the slaughter of fellow Orlesians? Why should every noble from chevalier to Grand-Duke have to live in fear of their children being assassinated by jealous rivals? Why should mages be locked away, their duty to their countrymen abdicated by the fear of demon possessions? Was this Andraste's vision for the world?
These questions haunted the nobles in particular, for their chivalry was brought into question by the inconvenient truths. The glory and strength of their country mattered deeply to them, just as the liberties and opportunities of the country mattered to the commoners. Julie's message may not have been so powerful in normal circumstances, but the Empire was teetering on the edge of civil war. Kirkwall had made things even worse, as tensions between mages and Templars drew in the noble supporters of both.
And so, in the winter of 9:38-39, the plotting in the Winter Palace took on a whole new character. The nobles began to plot against each other not for their own interests, but for those of their country. The battle was to be drawn along ideological lines. Those who believed that the crippling of the common folk was the crippling of the Empire, against those who believed the commons could not be trusted to join the national enterprise. Those who believed elves could be tied to the cause of the Empire via the common faith, versus those who saw the elves as subhuman, worthy only of contempt. Those who believed mages could serve the country, versus those who feared and hated everything to do with magic. There were very few fence-sitters, as even if you didn't care about one matter, another would provoke you.
This text may be the only record of the details of this startling and new conflict at its inception, in the words of those who initiated it.
The Ides of March, Thirty-Ninth Year of the Dragon Age.
The few days previous had been taken up with drills of all kinds, for both my people and I. With the seneschal of Hearth, we organised the welcoming party. All the preparations had been made. Meanwhile, I had split my time between insuring the required... tools were ready and learning about the Chant of Light.
Julie had spent the entirety of that day with her sisters. Élodie was ready to burst, already weeks overdue. Twins were on the way. Claire was also ready to burst, with anticipation rather than birth. Tam and Leha followed me around when I wasn't studying, the former quietly watching over me in a strangely protective way, the latter asking innocuous questions about my divinity while occasionally drinking from a flask of Julie's manufacture. The last of the apple vodka, I would assume. Ciara had disappeared somewhere, and Armen was being harassed by Velarana over some issue or another. Something about flaunting magic. Admittedly, the smiling idiot's flaunting was very useful when conducting loud tests, as his lightning could produce equally loud thunderclaps if he wanted it to. Perhaps that's what she was complaining about. My fault, I guess.
On the day in question, I woke up at six o'clock in the morning, the sun creeping into the sky. Julie had crept into bed in the night, I discovered, leaving Tam wedged up against me in a pleasant way. The bed was big enough, Tam was drawn to heat in the night by instinct. I was quite content to stay there, until Tam poked me in the shoulder with the curve of her horned head, rousing me.
All for the best, as I was to inspect everyone in half an hour.
I climbed out of bed, getting a growl from Tam for my trouble as she buried her face in the pillow I left behind, trying to keep the warmth of it. The noise woke Julie up, who leapt up like she hadn't even been asleep. I was startled by the motion in my dazed state, almost falling over until I caught myself.
"I'm coming with you," Julie said, "We need to talk."
That sent a shiver down my spine of the bad sort.
"Sure, why not," I said uneasily, "Tam, are you coming?" I needed reinforcements.
Tam answered by tossing the pillow aside with a deep frown that creased her forehead as much as her mouth, and rose up as naked as she was. Neither Julie nor I were under any illusions as to what she was thinking. Something along the lines of 'I really don't want to get up, but I'm not leaving either of you alone'. Julie's tone had been that grave. Thank you, Tam.
So we washed ourselves with water I had brought up the night before, got dressed in our usual fashions, fatigues for Julie and I, loose Qunari garb for Tam, armour on top of both, weapons hanging off that.
I really missed running water, incidentally. It wasn't something I'd get to have again until a year and a half later. Then, it was hard to enjoy it with Pentaghast and Trevelyan kicking around the place. Not to mention that damned short-ass with the bizarre crossbow. And that was even before the sky decided to split itself open at the command of an immortal prick. I do digress.
We exited the château, which was bustling with activity as sleepy civilians wandered around to watch the show, and onto the parade ground. There the regiments were getting prepared for the day's events, which promised to be of great note to all concerned. Soprano's Rangers were already in proper order, the sharpshooters standing in perfect formation with fixed-bayonets glinting in the warm glow of the morning, the lancers and longbows drawn up alongside them. McNulty's Grenadiers were only arriving. Mike's Pikes had collapsed their weapons in two and were practising a quick march at the opposite end of the space as billmen.
I have to say it filled me with complete pride to see it. That I could muster such fine men and women in less than a day, and have them fully prepared to put on a parade or fight a battle in not much more time, was something I considered to be a great accomplishment. It still is.
The Baron asked about the capabilities of my troops in his letter, and it was my intention to show him those capabilities immediately. Absolutely everything was being readied for the display. Provided the nerves of the least experienced held, I was confident we could defeat any force of the same size in the world. The nobles needed to know that, preferably before they made decisions on the subject of resisting the Grand-Duke and his own lackeys.
"Well Sam," Julie said, inhaling a deep breath, "I can do a lot of things, but when it comes to this, you really do know your craft." Her eyes scanned my troops, her troops, like they were the soldiers of God. Perhaps she thought they were, angels come to rip up the chains around her country.
"The antaam would almost certainly be defeated by them, unless they brought far more than we have," said Tam, sounding very pleased at that, "I am sure there hasn't been an army like them in all the history of this world."
That was true in more ways that mere armaments. Elves made up the bulk of course, it was the Dales, but there were humans too and even a few dwarva. There were mages, non-mages, and something in between. But we'll get to that. I suppose the Grey Wardens are the closest approximation in terms of both discipline and capability.
"Exactly," said Julie, turning to the two of us, "I was foolish to try and do this alone. I am not a general." She sounded like she was embarrassed.
"But you thought you'd give it a try anyway," I replied flatly, "Yes, that was a dumbass move." Throwing around propaganda and amassing a small arsenal of weapons without any clue how to fight a war beyond what you've read in books is truly not a good idea.
"The importance of everything got the better of me," Julie admitted, "And I disregarded your feelings." Which had been pretty strong at the time, and clearly stated.
"Yes, you did," said Tam, "But we cannot expect you to act against your conscience. I would still be a Tamassran of the Qun if I believed otherwise, and I do not wish to dwell on that." She made a face like she had eaten something nasty, her memories of the Qun coming back to her at that moment. Julie took her hand, snapping her out of it. I was glad she did, Tam's remembrances were unpleasant even to look at.
"Thank you," said Julie, planting a kiss on the Qunari's cheek.
Since we were clearing the air, I wasn't yet satisfied.
"You decided to build weapons behind my back," I said, crossing my arms, "Without paying attention to any of my warnings about weapons getting ahead of ideas."
"Not the sort of attention you intended, no," Julie said.
"And then you go stirring the pot," I continued, "Promising bread and freedom to the peasants, victory and strength to the petty nobility, a place at the table to the merchants..."
"I did," she said, far less ashamedly than I had hoped.
"And you'd do it again in a heartbeat," I intoned gravely
"Perhaps not in the same way," Julie objected, "But yes."
I frowned for a moment, wondering how she thought she could have convinced me to get on board earlier. I didn't think it was possible. Not before I saw the savagery and cruelty of the Templars. Not before I had seen men, women and children starving in a mineshaft.
"If you're apologising, I accept your apology," I said quickly, not wanting to dwell on her deception much myself, "In the end, you were right and I was wrong. That's what matters. If I had my way, we would be completely unprepared right now, with no real allies to call on. What you did gave us half of Orlais to work with, and a lot of nobles on top of that."
I am really a man who values the ends as opposed to the means, provided the means aren't genocidal. Survival requires that some feelings get hurt, more often than not. That often strikes civilians as harsh, but I assure you, the point of this attitude is not to offend. I felt a lot better about Julie because of it. It was obvious she lied as much to protect me as to promote her own goals, and her own goals were extremely worthy and entirely unselfish.
"That does not make what I did any less..." Julie started, searching for the word, "..unkind." Couldn't argue with that.
"Then learn from the mistake," I said, still watching the efforts beyond.
Julie approached, bringing Tam along with us, green eyes ablaze. "I promise I won't betray you ever again," she said with absolute sincerity, "The three of us are bonded by the Maker, our meeting was fate. I believe that more than ever."
Despite my albeit shrinking doubts as to our fate, I still grinned like an idiot, and got a kiss for my trouble. Which I didn't have much time to appreciate before Tam brought herself around both Julie and I, warmly hugging us. I was certain at that moment that all the armies of tyranny and death could not resist us if we were united.
Well, as long as we had two particular elves with us. The two in question arrived promptly.
Armen padded up to us in his robes, clearing his throat to get our attention. I turned as Tam released me, and saw that Ciara was with him, back in her Dalish hunting garb now that the pilgrims had finally deemed it time to get lost. The mage was looking very pleased. It was a good day for his kind too, after all.
"You've made up, I see," he said, a sly smile on his face, "Took you long enough. The tension was tiresome."
We all groaned at the sight of him, and Tam hardened her stance as she always did in the presence of mages, friendly or not. I had not precipitated the full reconciliation as I should have, but I wasn't really in the mood to be reminded of this by the other guy who had kept quiet about the plans to overthrow the old order by force.
"By Andraste," Julie exclaimed, "You really are tedious sometimes, do you know that?"
"I know," Armen replied, "But one of us has to be, to protect us all."
"No one said it had to be you," Tam said.
"It would be strange if it was someone else," Ciara giggled.
Everyone except Armen nodded their agreement with that sentiment, while the man in question simply shrugged it away. We stood around, nothing to say but comfortable in each other's presence once again.
"So... today is the day that the war starts," Armen said.
"Most likely," Julie said, stepping out towards the parade ground a little, "We have to impress the nobles, but I don't think that is going to be an obstacle."
The proof was before us; disciplined lines of people willing to put their lives on the line, and take the lives of others, to follow our commands. It was a heavy responsibility, and one that would fall largely on my shoulders when we got right down to it. The others would have their roles, of course, but telling people to kill other people would be mine. It can weigh on the soul, if you aren't prepared or used to it.
"Can we win?" Ciara asked, "I mean, how many shem nobles are going to be with us?"
"Enough," Julie replied, "All we have to do is hold out against whatever is thrown at us by the Grand Duke or others. Other parts of Orlais will rise up against Gaspard when they see our success, The Empress will take advantage of the situation to remove him from the Game and make reforms. It's not like we have to march on Val Royeaux." Perhaps it would have been better if we had. Regardless, I was very surprised at this statement.
"Wait, that's your plan?" I asked incredulously, "That's very... restrained."
"Of course," Julie snorted, "I have read your history books, Sam. There's no need to invite our enemies to invade by trying to topple the Empress, when we can make her work for us. I am still Orlesian, I do not want to see foreigners take advantage of our uprising and I want to minimise the spilling of Orlesian blood."
Which made a certain amount of sense. By being moderate in her aims while appealing to the religious sensibilities of the country, Julie was aiming for maximum public support at all levels of society. There was no small amount of public support for Celene. And, if the higher authorities rebuked her reasonable demands, she would have the mob turn on those same authorities with a vengeance for putting the country in danger and for repressing the movement. Machiavelli would be laughing with glee at the notion, no doubt.
Like I said, the woman was a genius.
"In fact, the Empress may be the only person in Thedas who has the power to stand up to the Chantry," Armen noted aloud, "As long as she has enough popular support, elves and mages may find refuge in Orlais. If we succeed."
"Then you best pray that we do succeed," Tam said lowly, "Otherwise, death may be the easy path for us."
No one disagreed aloud, but didn't want to vocalise their shared fears either.
Shortly, our train of nasty thoughts was interrupted by the arrival of the Knight-Enchanters, marching through the main gate to join the others. They were not in any sort of order, simply arriving in clumps. Velarana, or Colonel Yesas Velarana to use her new title, was at the head of them alongside Delrin Barris and the Lucrosian leader, Adam Valle. Her battlemages had refused to accept the training I offered, so although they were very much a part of our little army, they were not trained to fight as a unit. I scowled as I saw them, wishing to whip them into shape but unable to convince them to let me do so.
The Colonel, the Templar and the Lucrosian all approached us, making little bows towards Julie and I, before the Colonel reported.
"The dockyards are ready, Marquis," Velarana said, "We will be able to parade down them with adequate room for spectators and the... display."
Clearing the whole length of the docks would have taken far longer, without magical levitations to speed things along. Of course, the Baron's glorified secretary had helped immensely, convincing the owners of the clutter to store things on their property on pain of large fines, but I defused any resentment for that by promising a feast for the dockyard workers afterwards.
"Thank you, Colonel," I said cheerily, "And thank you, Monsieur Valle for your assistance with everything. The Tranquils are damned good."
The Lucrosian faction of the mages, those interested in making money as much as Leha was, had taken the Tranquils we liberated from the Wolf's Lair under their wing. After the Templar attack, Valle had come to me with a certain proposal, one that I accepted wholeheartedly. It had been one of the big reasons we were armed to the teeth by the time trouble came, and one of the reasons why our most powerful weapons had trained folks to use them.
"They seem content to do what you ask of them," Valle said, stroking his brown and grey beard, "But then, they are content with anything asked of them. I worry that they may become prime targets for our enemies..." Not an unjustified concern, I thought.
"And we will do everything in our power to protect them, while they help protect us," Julie said, shaking the man's hand, "Your support on this will go far." Further than we would have liked too.
"I have to admit, it does seem like an excellent role for them," Barris said, "Using the Tranquil as servants almost seems like a waste now." A complete and utter waste, considering what we managed to get them to do, as well as their other role as sex slaves for unscrupulous Templars.
"I wouldn't get any ideas about making more of them," Armen said bitterly, "Useful or not." I shared the sentiment.
Barris glanced at me, to gauge my reaction, and found my face stoney with agreement. Wiping someone's mind like that was horrendous, and the necessity of it had not been demonstrated to me. Indeed, it was obvious that the vast majority of 'tranquilisations' were not done out of necessity, but rather to suppress dissent or supply emotionless workers to the Circles. Enchanting was big business, after all. The Templar didn't respond to the point.
"We don't need any more," said Tam, leaving the 'yet' unsaid. Armen seemed to take that as a prohibition and calmed down. I reminded myself to find some way to calm him down at these moments.
"My mages wish to rest, Marquis," Velarana said, maintaining a professional tone, "The Libertarians can march around for the Baron, but the presences of all of the mages might spark panic."
Opinion hadn't softened to the degree where there was absolutely no hostility to mages. The hardliners would make themselves felt in time, but I agreed that it was prudent to delay that hour for as long as possible. Out of sight, out of mind. To most, mages curing disease and building things was okay because those are useful things. Mages marching around might scare people. I blame Tevinter, personally, and I'm sure many would have agreed.
"No problem," I said, before Julie could put her boot in.
Velarana bowed and departed, Barris going with her. Julie crossed her arms and hmmed to herself once they were out of earshot, her brow creased in thought. A sight I see often, even today. The reason for it this time was the Knight-Enchanter's rather startling move to the top of the table in our little community.
"She is getting ambitious," Julie said suddenly, turning to Armen and Valle, "Is that going to be a problem?"
Both Valle and Armen looked at each other in amusement, the latter smirking more deeply than he had been already. A polite chuckle erupted from Valle. So, obviously it wasn't going to be a problem.
"Colonel Velarana is under the impression that she is the senior enchanter of our new 'Circle', so to speak," Valle explained, "And while she does command the largest fraternity presence, I have aligned my Lucrosians with the Libertarians as a counterbalance. The Colonel is simply displeased at the development."
I smirked myself at that, glad to see that the mages were not too holier-than-thou to engage in a little infighting. It was a sign they were getting comfortable, which was all the better for us. No doubt Julie thought well of it too, albeit in a more divide and conquer way.
It is perhaps the greatest irony of our existence that this rather minuscule disagreement between the mages would lead to the fully formed democratic political system we see today.
"Just as long as no one is throwing lightning around trying to kill one another," Tam intoned, "We can all get along nicely without that."
Considering that offending parties would taste my boot-heel if they did start that sort of crap, a chuckle escaped my lips at the very idea of Velarana starting anything. She knew as well as I did who would end up winning that fight, and how costly such a conflict would be. Her own moderate nature restrained her ambitions too, and it was that combination that would keep the mages firmly at our side through the turmoil of the years following.
The Baron's ornate barge finally arrived a little after high noon, a brisk breeze blowing upriver helping things along to the extent that rowers weren't required. It was one of the great advantages of the riverways in that part of the Dales; to go upstream you could sail, to go downstream you could let the swell do the work without much worry about running aground. The barge itself wasn't a large craft, in fact it wasn't much larger than a half dozen wagons length wise, but it was accompanied by a large number of smaller bateaux. The Baron's sigil, a castle with flames spouting out of the top of it, waved proudly alongside the royal banner on the prow. It was something to see, certainly.
I think we outclassed it as an attraction though.
Crowds packed onto the tops of the wall, onto roofs of warehouses and into the raised space between the dockyard and town wall itself. All wanted to see what would happen. Awaiting the Baron, Baroness and their noble allies was one thousand, two hundred professional soldiers.
Musketeers, sword-grenadiers, longbowmen, crossbowmen, mages, lancers and pikemen. Glistening bayonets on muskets held to attention. Short swords and curved shields in front of grenades. Broadswords sheathed, and roundshields held together with bows. Crossbows held out like rifles. Pikes held half-haft at rest. Lances over shoulders, reins in hand. Armour ranging from chainmail over padding to ex-Templar plate, almost all of it stripped from the dead. Round helmets on all of their heads, all-metal clones of my own. Deadly weapons, but most of the people holding them had not yet seen a real battle. I did not bother hoping that they never would, it was a foregone conclusion by this point.
The regiments had their own banners, all based on the same design chosen by Julie after the Templar attack. A large white five pointed star on a blue field. Bonnie blue flags, to people of my world. Of course, each unit had small variations. Soprano's Rangers had crossed muskets flanked by arrows on the star, for instance.
And of course, there were the new, terrifying weapons I had helped create. Twenty-one cast iron, silverite-bore rifled cannons. Fifteen light cannons, for use in field battles. Five heavy cannons, for cracking walls. One heavy siege gun, for annihilating anything tougher than a regular wall, a weapon that could have sunk a Qunari dreadnought with a single shot. Their long black barrels aimed across the quiet streaming of the river,
All of them were lined up at the edge of the water, with just enough room to load, their wheels raised and support struts in place. Around them, the Tranquil stood at the ready, cannon-ramming devices held like pikes. Fifty of them had come with us from the Wolf's Lair, but more came out of hiding with a few mages that had fled with them for their own protection. Fighting was the role we had discussed earlier. Without them, we never would have been able to train people in time, and the Tranquil learn very quickly indeed. Without emotional clutter and utterly unquestioning, they made perfect soldiers in theory. As we awaited the barge to moor, they were stood at unnaturally perfect attention, the sort that would have hurt the ordinary soldier. The sight sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn't easy to forget how they were made that way, and it wasn't the only thing sending me shivers.
I was watching this from a podium, the same one Julie used for her speeches that we had moved to the docks, rubbing my hands together as the breeze cut into me and muttering to myself. Not the most dignified sight, considering there were more than a few gazes upon me at the time. Most of us were in Earth panoply, even Ciara and Leha, although they looked ridiculous due to their size. Armen was the exception as always, keeping to his always-spotless Circle robes. That no one else was shivering but me despite our uniforms being designed for desert wear made me feel even colder. I was quickly noticed. Julie quickly stuck her left hand between my own, stopping my movement dead. Her hand was very warm, by some miracle.
"Thanks," I said, clutching the hand for a moment like it was a life preserve, before taking a set of gloves she offered.
"You're still cold," Julie said, matter-of-factly, "We'll get some hot tea in the Palais later." There was better refreshments than tea waiting for me, and had I known, I would have rushed off immediately. Alas, I did not know.
I nodded, pulling the gloves on quickly. It felt much better, even with the prospect of a summit with a bunch of inbred nobles ahead of me. Tam let out an amused breath at my obvious relief, before settling into a more straight pose. I wondered why, and turned to see servants attaching the barge to a ramp.
The Baron stepped off the vessel and onto the docks first, closely followed by the Baroness and two small children. All of them were wearing red masks and smart grey silk clothing that was positively spartan by Orlesian standards. The Baroness's mask was the restrained variation I remembered so vividly from Halamshiral, but the children wore the same, elaborate design as their father. The masks were obviously too large for them, which was cute, and they had to be led by the hand of their mother. A cheer went up as they exited, followed by some trumpets sounding a brief salute, as was appropriate. The royal governor had returned, after all. The waving of blue banners in the crowd intensified as the Baron gave a wave.
"Call that a salute?" Julie snorted, "We're going to shake their bones." I smiled at that. We had tested the cannons, and let's just say there was a reason we needed magical thunder to cover our tracks. Though, this was the first time we would ever fire the weapons at maximum range. That is to say, with full gaatlok charges in an open space at proper elevation.
"Better hope the damned things don't blow up on us," Leha grumbled, "We're a little close to avoid dying if that happens." Which was true. However, Julie and Armen had measured the strength of various compositions of gunpowder to a tee by this point, and combined with good knowledge of metals, were as sure as they could be about the tolerances of the cannons.
"I could stick you in there head first," said Armen to the dwarf, "And they would still be perfectly safe." Leha frowned, doubting it.
"Look at those shems," said Ciara, pointing when she really should not have been.
My eyes moved from the Baron and his family, now proceeding along the docks, inspecting our troops, to the others.
A large procession of adults and children streamed off the barge. About twenty adult nobles, most in garb that looked more like a multi-level cake than something you'd deem appropriate to wear. The skirts of the women could have hidden two men underneath them with ease, an enduring fashion in Orlais that we ourselves would exploit some years later. They were accompanied by mostly elven servants, and the masked children were led off by these rather than their parents. I found myself quietly admiring the Baroness for her more direct approach, rather than palming off the parenting job on some poor maid. Then I remembered she tried to have me killed, more than once, and my sympathy dampened.
The whole flock of them walked along the open space between the water's edge and the ranks of my soldiers, gawking and talking among themselves. It was like watching a puppet show, because of the masks. They were of every colour, from subtle dark blue to radioactive green, some had gilded rims, others had pearls or jewels encrusted along the edges. Most were shaped like human faces, but one man's was a silver and black skull shape, with a chevalier's yellow feather flowing off of one side. He seemed the most interested in the troops, taking up the rear with a younger woman as a result of his interest.
I found myself a bit bewildered that such people could want to support Julie's cause, given how feverish her criticisms of such excess was. There was no time to sort out my thoughts, as the Baron climbed the stairs and joined us on the platform with his family.
"Marquis, Marquise, may I present my children, Antoine and Océane," the Baron said in Orlesian, putting his hands on the shoulders of the kids as they stood in front of them, "Children, this is the Marquis and Marquise de la Fayette." Ignoring all those without noble titles, as you can imagine. The eyes of the children briefly fixed themselves on Ciara and Tam, this being the first time either of them had seen a Qunari or a Dalish elf, but they were too well bred to go beyond that.
"A pleasure to meet you," the kids said in unison, curtsying slightly. The son was about eight, and the daughter six. I wondered how the hell they were trained to act so politely. I could have never been like that at their age. Orlesian tutors were almost as strict as tamassrans, of course.
"It's a delight to meet you too," smiled Julie, switching to Common while she crouched down to eye level with them, "We have a surprise for you, but you must promise me not to be scared. It's going to be loud." I thought this would raise hackles from the Baroness, but Orlais is a different planet. Mistresses are part of the Game, at least for nobles. The two children got a little excited, and a little more curious.
"Why don't you have a mask?" asked Océane suddenly, rubbing her hands together. That produced a laugh from Baron, who muttered about it being a good question to his unamused wife. Julie thumbed over her shoulder to me.
"My loved one is from a land where they do not wear masks," Julie explained, "So I do not wear one in public, most of the time." She still had one, of course, and not a bourgeoise half-mask like her sisters either.
"But how can you be a noble without a mask?" asked Antoine in confusion, "It means everyone can see your face!" Even I snorted at the urgency of the little guy's tone. Being able to hide one's reaction behind a mask is of course useful if talk is the weapon used publicly. My weapons were a little more overt than words, so I didn't need a mask, but I couldn't exactly tell him that.
"Nobles in other countries don't wear masks either," I said, "But they're still noble."
I expected some disagreement, or a point about how foreigners were inferior, but instead I got stunned silence. The children stared at me like I had two heads, which was very disconcerting, masks or not. I glanced at Julie, to see if she had some explanation. She didn't.
"What?" I finally asked, after a minute of this.
"You sound funny," Océane declared.
"Like a dwarf," Antoine added, his grey irises moving to the silent but observant Leha. I wondered where he had met dwarves, but Halamshiral had no small amount of trade with Orzammar, second in Orlais only to Jader in that.
"That is certainly true," the Baroness said, "Do all people from your... country sound like that?" She refrained from using 'your world', I noted.
I shrugged off the question, not particularly bothered to explain the milieu of American accents, nor my own rather standard timbre with a bizarre mix of Virginian and Bostonian. I had heard about my accent a million times before by that stage.
Ciara let out a giggle, as the children looked up at their parents for what to do next. "They're adorable," she thought aloud, not caring that it drew the attention of the Baron and Baroness.
"Yes, they are," Tam agreed, successfully deflecting any ire. The Baron knew better, and the Baroness was too terrified of her to say anything negative. The feelings were there though, at least in the case of the Baroness.
Before anything more could be said, the rest of the nobles began filing up onto the platform, and they gathered expectantly. The Baron waited until they were all ready, before addressing them.
"My friends, this is the Marquis and Marquise de la Fayette," he said, "Lord Samuel Hunt, and Lady Julie Marteau. The ones who will, hopefully, free our country from her malaise."
Having placed the huge burden on our shoulders, the Baron withdrew to the safety of his family's arms, leaving us in the firing line. The nobles locked onto us like a lioness stalking its prey. It was unnerving, even to us. So much so that neither Julie or I said anything. I even gave a small wave like a fool, which didn't get a response. I felt the air thicken with the tension, the expectations being measured.
One of the nobles, the skull-masked man who had taken the time to check my soldiers out, cleared his throat. "Well then," he said in a deep tone, "It is good to finally meet you."
The tension lifted immediately, like fog in the morning clearing, as audible breaths were taken. Contrary to his rather intimidating mask, the man's voice was kind and firm, demanding recognition of his authority by its very nature. He was clearly older than anyone else present, which helped. Julie stepped forward and shook the man's hand.
"And we are glad to meet you, who care about your country so much as to come here to meet us," Julie said, every word pouring with appreciation, "I hope we can work together to make Orlais glorious once more." The words were that of a politician, but the tone was that of a patriot. Even I felt my morale restored by them. The nobles looked between one another, and affirmative noises made, as they stepped forward to greet us in turn. Another cheer went up from the crowd, the banners waving furiously now.
"Marquise, may you introduce me to these others?" Skull-Mask asked politely as the rush ended, "I have to admit, they intrigue me." We were an interesting bunch, to say the least.
"Certainly," said Julie.
Armen moved forwards, the ambitious little scoundrel, and placed himself so that he would be the first to be shown off. Julie's eyebrow twitched slightly at the movement, clearly not liking that he had cut off Tam, but the Qunari did not seem to mind, so she continued seamlessly.
"This is Armen Cartier, one of the senior enchanters of the Hearth Circle," Julie explained, "He was instrumental in helping me to create a better understanding of mages, and how they can serve the Empire." That is to say, that locking them up benefits no one. The Divine's writ of foundation for the Circle had arrived with Mother Brandon's letters, giving official sanction as a Circle under the command of the new 'Knight-Commander Delrin Barris'. Word of that had reached Halamshiral long before it had reached us.
Some of the nobles did not step forward to shake his hand, but most did gracefully. Armen looked very very pleased with himself, and in a way, he had a right to be. Julie's hand wasn't the only one at work in the machinations that had made that day possible. Regardless, the introductions continued.
"This is Leha Cadas, the foremost merchant in Hearth," Julie said, Skull-Mask following her with the young woman in tow. I noticed then that the woman's mask was in the same colours. A relation of some kind.
Leha made a bow, and shook hands with Skull-Mask only, content to simply nod her greeting at the other nobles, the nobles content to receive such a greeting. Dwarves were a bizarre exception to the social rules in most places. I still thought it a little rude of Leha, considering the situation.
"Ciara, a representative of the Dalish," Julie said as they approaching the she-elf, who was beaming despite what was quite obvious hostility.
"Ahh, this is interesting," said Skull-Mask, ignoring the hostility entirely with the air of a man who had seen too much to care about such trifles, "Is your clan with us in our... venture?"
"No, I am here on my own," Ciara replied, shaking his hand, "More of a witness than a representative, really."
Skull-Mask laughed at that, nodding. "An adventurer then," he said, "Such people are always useful, I am glad to have you." The man was climbing in my books by the minute, to say the least. Ciara's too, if her expression was any indication. That said, only the woman with Skull-Mask made the effort to shake Ciara's hand. Most didn't even give her a look, once Julie had moved on. That prejudice was hard to break. City elves were at least Orlesian in some way. The Dalish might as well be from Mars.
Of course, it came to Tam's turn.
"This is Tam," Julie started, "A great scholar and a warrior."
"A Qunari scholar and warrior," Skull-Mask said, almost accusingly, "I do not mean to be rude, but how do we know she is not a spy?" Evidently, the old chevalier was familiar with the Ben Hassrath, whom could most readily be described as scholar-warriors to some degree. There wasn't much hint of racial hatred in his tone, merely practical concern.
"She is our mistress," Julie explained, "And aside from that, we met an agent of the Qun by surprise some months ago. He attempted to take her by force. She could not have communicated beforehand to set up a deception, so you need not worry about it." Skull-Mask regarded Tam for a moment.
"I understand your suspicion," Tam said, "But let me assure you, I love the Marquise and Marquis. I would never do anything to harm them." Count on Tam to keep it sharp and on point. Still, her hand rested on the handles of her longsword and dagger. She might as well have added 'I would do anything to harm those who would harm us'. Classic Tam, warming my heart by saying the exact right thing.
Skull-Mask turned to his companion, before seeming to accept the explanation. Realising that he had done some damage with the inquiry, he opted to defuse any offence taken.
"Our mistress?" he said with amusement, glancing at the three of us, "What a spectacular arrangement! I don't suppose there is room for one more?" The man slapped me on the back and roared with laughter, a more restrained one erupting from the nobles. Armen's grin widened. Julie shook her head with embarrassment, not expecting such an immediate tack away from hostility.
"You are too old for it," the Baron said, "Your heart would give out before you could enjoy it." Even I laughed at that.
"We are full up, I'm afraid," cringed Julie, still managing to maintain a polite smile, "Though you flatter us."
"Of course I do, you are beautiful, ambitious people," Skull-Mask said, "Like me." If the nobles were less haughty, I imagine groans would have been the response to that. I think we all decided we liked the man then and there, and so he was allowed to take a place beside us with his companion.
"It is time for the salute," I said, "A demonstration of our new capabilities." The accent again raised eyebrows, or would have if they had been visible, but the nobles looked out onto the docks again.
"Colonel Soprano," I said, over the radio, "Artillery salute." That got mumbles of curiosity from behind me.
"Yes, Marquis," she replied.
The Rangers marched from the end of the line in formation in perfect parade order, muskets shouldered, past the podium. The crowds went silent, as a drummer led the way down the docks, beating a one-twenty pace. When they drew level with the cannon batteries, they stopped dead, turned, and the column split into a double line facing outwards.
"Presentez vos armes!" Soprano shouted. The entire unit held their muskets out and stamped their feet, as the Tranquil began loading the cannons. As they had done much of the preparation beforehand, this took mere seconds.
"Salut!" Soprano roared.
"LIBERTÉ!" shouted the soldiers in unison.
The band struck up what is now known as the Cannons' Chorus, but what I knew as the national anthem of Russia, an Earth-country with a … complicated history. A beautiful tune though.
Its chords were higher than I had heard before, but it shook the soul. Tam had selected it for that reason. The band played for mere seconds, before the command to fire was given with a hand signal from Soprano. The Tranquil gunner on the gun nearest us pulled the cord attached to the flintlock firing device. The cannon boomed, the shockwave of sound tearing through us, the spinning round ripping through the air and off into the distance. A familiar feeling to me, but utterly alien to everyone else.
It was the end of one era, and the beginning of a new one.
Gasps of awe and surprise from nobleman and peasant alike were drowned out quickly, as the cannons fired in a smooth succession every few seconds, sending more solid shot miles downrange into the uninhabited forest beyond the river. It was impossible to see what sort of damage was being done, as the trees obstructed the view, but it hardly mattered. I could tell that as a test firing, it was very successful.
The light cannons gave way about a minute later to the heavier ones, which were considerably louder. People in the crowd began covering their ears. Just as well that they did. When the siege gun thundered the final shot, it was an order of magnitude louder. The wall reflected the sound, surrounding us with it for a millisecond. When it stopped, all that was left was the smell of sulphur on the air and the tinkling of smashed glass hitting the ground.
The band had ceased entirely, stunned as much as anyone else. I turned around quickly, seeing that many of the warehouse windows had been shattered, wincing as I realised we would probably be forced to pay for repairs.
"Qui sont ces têtes-rondes?!" exclaimed one noble lady in a fluster, before being comforted by the nearest servant. The loudest cheer of them all broke out a second later, the crowds never having seen such a thing before.
"Again!" shouted Océane, giggling madly, hands up to the dismay of her parents. I winked at the girl, getting a tilt of her head in return. She should have had a bright future.
"Whoops," I said, feeling a little guilty, "A little too much bang for our buck there." The others were as speechless as the nobles or the crowd. All except Julie. She narrowed her eyes, a hand on her hip, attention on the cannons.
"Don't worry about it," she said quietly, "The world is ours."
With the demonstration out of the way, the docks descended into a party atmosphere as planned. The soldiers quietly stowed their arms on wagons, the cannons were towed away and the Tranquils went with them. Kegs were opened, tables dragged onto the docks and the celebrations begun. All as cover for what was going to happen next. As we left, I looked back at the festivities, very much wanting to join them. Ciara did too, from her pained glances. I needed to be present for what was happening, and unfortunately, Armen wanted Ciara there on general principle.
Shortly, I found myself in the Baron's library, overlooking the countryside as before. The space was considerably more occupied than when I had been in the room before, although the children had been traded off for Mother Brandon and Delrin Barris, making it seem more crowded that the dockyards had been to my mind. The Chantry still made me jittery, mostly because of their political power.
The middle of the room, directly opposite the huge windows, was enclosed by a circle of a little more than two dozen ornate and comfortable chairs, paired off. I was sat on one such chair, directly opposite the Baron and Baroness of Hearth, with Julie beside me and Tam hanging off the back of both of our seats. Julie had donned her blue, red and white mask for the occasion, camouflage against her nerves. It was one thing to write about the nobles, it was entirely another thing to treat with them. She might have had a lot of knowledge from Earth, but she had little experience at this. I took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, as I was perfectly at ease.
The Baron, that glorious bastard, had brought back coffee. A metal mug of which was in my other hand, the first cup of it I had tasted in nine months. The Antivans got more than a few gold pieces out of me over the years as a result, Thedosian coffee is truly excellent. Everyone else was drinking wine, the heathens! I may be getting off point.
The other nobles, the senior ones and their immediate heirs, were arranged in twelve clusters. More than a few had military adjutants hanging around behind them, particularly those that looked the least military. This was the Dales, after all. The Avvars, darkspawn and most of all, other nobles, all vied for their slice of the cake. Even the most leisurely noblewoman employed a large number of household guards. All of the nobles present were large landholders, the rulers of towns, or both. I was briefed on every one of them by Armen, whom had extensive knowledge of Orlesian nobility from his time in Val Royeaux.
Alongside we nobles were two other groups.
An enthusiastic and very pleased Mother Brandon sat immediately to our right, enjoying embrium tea with honey. Zeal and ambition combined in her person, and it always would. She was the sort of person who once they got a taste of power, would fight tooth and nail to keep and expand it. Not unlike Julie, to a certain extent, but lacking in selflessness. I wasn't sure if I approved or disapproved. She was accompanied by Delrin Barris in his role as Templar Knight-Commander. He looked considerably less comfortable, both in his role and his presence at the summit. I reminded myself to raise the man's morale when I found a spare moment. I had been wrong about him, after all. He was a good man. He would become a great man.
The last group was the 'Circle' delegation sitting to our left, representing the mages of Hearth. Armen and Velarana together. The former beamed a grin around the room, a smiling Ciara and a sulking Leha flanking his seat. He was drinking coffee too, though he was sipping it from a smaller china cup, unlike my military-gulps from a decanter more usually deployed for ale. Velarana had no attendants, with crossed legs and hands resting one upon the other on her lap in a dignified pose. She even had a half-mask of silver polished to an extent that it was almost like a mirror, apparently a type reserved for senior-enchanters. No one seemed to question their right to be there, even among themselves. Elven mages no less. We had already changed something, at least. It gave me still more hope that we might succeed.
The other nobles were coordinated into three groups.
Skull-Mask sat to the Baron and Baroness' right. His real name and title was Lord Maurice de Villars, Baron des Grandes-Collines. He was by far the oldest noble present by at least twenty years, and was also the most experienced soldier of all of us. He was in fact the only other serious soldier aside from the Baron and myself. The silver and black of his mask was copied by his heir, his grand-niece Lady Louise de Villars, who was a little younger than Julie but clearly well trained at the Game. Beautiful, with striking blonde hair and an uncommon athleticism clear in her figure. I would get to know her a little better during the course of the war, which remains a great pity considering what happened. Their lands were in the foothills of the Frostback Mountains.
Pierre, Skull-Mask, Julie and I made up the faction most likely to act. The other two were mostly based on personal loyalties.
The largest group by a country mile was that led by Lady Camille Doucy, Baronne des Nouveaux-Landes. She was spectacularly wealthy, perhaps the most wealthy person of her rank in Orlais. She was extremely well-connected too; her uncle was the chief of the university in Val Royeaux, an institution heavily favoured by the Empress. She possessed some of the most productive vineyards and cotton plantations in the entire world. Her wealth showed too. Her mask was a deep green, encrusted with rubies along its edge. Her very fine ruffled dress was in the same colours, green with red edging at the collar, sleeves and bottom of the skirt. It was less puffy than most too, which I thought a good thing.
Baroness Doucy was also an innovator of sorts, hiring many of her workers instead of tying them to the land in serfdom, finding she could cherry-pick the most productive workers in each season. An early capitalist, in other words. She could command the loyalty of six other barons and baronesses, all of them owning land in the hugely fertile region to the west of of the Hearthlands, bordering the Exalted Plains. They didn't have much to gain or lose, but had come out out of loyalty or out of ideological fervour for our new cause. Which would not bode well for later, but I digress.
The last faction was the southerners, a mixed bag. Their lands varied in size and wealth, as did their opinions. They tended to follow the largest landholder; Lord Henri Clouet, Baron du Midi. A large man, to be polite about it, he wore a bright orange mask using a fire motif. Their lands bordered the Emprise du Lion and the Emerald Graves, both areas largely controlled by nobles either loyal to Grand-Duke Gaspard or largely neutral in the developing conflict.
Along with Hearth, Clouet's lands were best known for manufacturing and artisans. Clouet and his allies had the most to gain from any actions we might take, in that the threat from the Emprise would be ended, but also the most to lose, as they were most accessible to the enemy. If we could convince them, we could flip the planters led by Doucy. I hoped our display of firepower had put us half way towards that goal.
The seneschal called order by smacking the butt of a ceremonial staff off the floor, making more of himself than anyone else thought of him. He was an arrogant little man of the sort with no real achievements of his own. The Baron thanked him, probably as we were burning time we didn't have, and stood up.
"Friends, it is time we discussed why we are all here; the liberation and strengthening of our Orlais," Pierre began in Orlesian, with flick of his wrist, "Some of you have seen this room before, some are new to my halls. No matter, I bid you welcome."
A round of self-congratulatory clapping began, with affirmations and squeaks of approval rounding out the cacophony. I rather wished he'd just get to the damned point, so I took another gulp of coffee, watching Skull-Mask cross his arms impatiently. His niece gave him a reproving look that eventually softened his stance. It was a good bit of sport to watch, while the others got the notions of how great they were out of the way.
Pierre turned to Julie suddenly.
"I must demand that we formally congratulate Julie Hunt, Marquise de la Fayette, for opening the eyes of the entire Empire," the man continued, "Without you, the corruption, the waste of lives both noble and common, and the degradation of Orlais' faith, all might have continued for centuries. Because of you, we can throw these vices aside! A toast to Lady Hunt!" The room lifted their glasses in salute to Julie, who sat as still as a statue, not having expected the gesture at all.
"Lady Hunt!" the room echoed, before generous sips were taken of the fine red wines, out of gold rimmed glasses.
I have to admit repeated flinches upon hearing Julie Hunt rather than Julie Marteau, and Julie's own flinches were transmitted to me via her hand. I glanced up at Tam, and found her with a raised eyebrow. None of us had even the slightest inkling the Baron was going to say such a thing. Armen later explained why he had; while unwed to me, Julie was still a commoner. Her titles as Marquis de la Fayette and Baronetess of L'Ambassade were mere courtesies out of her betrothal to me.
The Baron had a lot of swing with the Council of Heralds, swing that had allowed him to have me recognised as a resident foreign noble, but no amount of favour could have bought a title for an unwed commoner with zero noble blood. Mother Brandon was in on it, having made up the Chantry papers in case anyone cared to investigate.
So, I was officially but falsely married.
Of course, all that made the fact that people with wagonloads of noble blood were saluting Julie all the more startling, a realisation that dawned slowly but relentlessly upon me. She would take my name until the disheartening end of what one must call the first phase of our little revolution.
"Congratulations," joked Armen, leaning over his chair so he wouldn't be heard.
"Shut your mouth," I said through a forced smile. The little shit knew full well that we didn't want to think about marriage because it would have excluded Tam. Plus it was a little early for that, by my standards. By Orlesian standards, Julie should have already been pregnant. Tam twice over.
The Baron called for silence once again, raising his hand.
"Now we must answer the real question," he said gravely, his lighthearted opening finished at last, "Do we go to war to achieve our ends? This is what we must decide." Pierre returned to his seat, signalling that he was opening the question to the floor. I was just delighted we were getting to the point.
Predictably, Skull-Mask spoke first.
"If I might correct you young nobles," he said, "It is very likely that war will break out even if we do nothing. All of us are loyal to the Empress, to her ideals and to her bloodline. Even without the Marquise's very fine words, which have moved many hearts, we are targets for the Grand-Duke and his partisans. The real question is do we pre-emptively strike, or wait for Gaspard to start the conflict for us." Appreciative hums sounded off from the southern faction, although Baron Clouet remained silent. Skull-Mask's far more extensive experience was showing, and no one dared fault him.
"Which do you believe is the wisest course, Baron de Villars?" asked Lady Doucy delicately, "Can we begin the war for our sovereign, without her permission?" If I were Celene, I'd be fairly annoyed if my subjects decided to kick off a civil war early. Doucy was not entirely convinced that an early war was the best idea, however. The question was more of a ruse, to poke holes in the case for war and to see how well the advocates for immediate war could patch them to her satisfaction.
"My Lady, I do not mean to trouble you with military matters," Skull-Mask replied, with the meaning that she should take his word for it like a good civilian, "But if we do not strike now, we will be on the defensive when the war finally does come. Instead of our armies besieging the fortresses in the Emprise and the estates further south, it will be Gaspard's vassals burning our fields and surrounding our châteaux." I agreed loudly wholeheartedly with that, as did Julie, Pierre and Cécile des Arbes, and of course, Skull-Mask's niece Louise.
Aggression is a cornerstone of victory in war, particularly when you have a set of advantages that your enemy cannot immediately match. We had mages and gunpowder, the enemy did not. If we waited, the enemy might successfully counteract these advantages.
Baron Clouet cleared his throat.
"That is not the only possible outcome," he said indignantly, "As long as we keep a good watch on the lands of our rivals, we can know when they muster their forces and where to ambush them on the road. We can stop their armies before they lay siege. There is no need to act impetuously when patience might win us the day. If we wait, Celene will join the fight, and the royal armies will aid us." He paused, looking over towards me from his position nearest the windows with intent.
"It also means more time to arm all of our troops with the new weapons we saw today," he concluded, his hands coming together as a steeple, "With which, we will be unassailable."
Murmurs of enthusiasm for that particular point bounced around, as much among the military men and women as the civvies. No one could doubt the efficacy of the murder-machines we had demonstrated on the docks. That the fearsome reputation of such devices was already established courtesy of the Qunari was all the better. On the other hand, I felt like someone had decided to kick me in the gut with a battering ram. My fears pushed their way to the forefront of my mind, and I foresaw all the worst ones becoming reality. A sea of corpses, all weighing on my soul.
As you can imagine, my disgust for Clouet's proposal was visible on my face. So much so that it turned conversation towards Julie and I.
"My Lord and Lady Hunt, you are the inventors of these weapons," Skull-Mask said, quieting the din of hope in the room instantly, "What do you think of that plan?" He was clearly hoping we would reject it, if his tone was any signal. Others in the room noticed my discomfort at the idea now too. Lady Doucy was particularly interested in what I had to say, and regarded me with cool attention, her eyes watching every twitch of muscle.
"Creating more of the weapons should not be a problem," Julie answered quickly, before I could put my boot in, "Any master-blacksmith in the Empire can create the fundamental parts. However, I cannot create enough gaatlok for an army yet, and I will not give up the secret to its formula. To do so would put the recipe in Gaspard's hands, tied up with a bottle of champagne and our compliments. In fact, the longer we wait, the more likely it is that our enemies will gain that knowledge." I could have kissed her for that. Tam whispered something in her ear that I couldn't hear, but Julie frowned at it.
"Orlais' enemies may find our discovery and use of firelances and gaatlok to be extremely fearsome as well," the Baron helpfully chipped in, "I cannot see Nevarra and Ferelden standing by."
"They would likely invade before we had enough of the new weapons to conquer them outright," Skull-Mask nodded, "But the royal armies could hold them, as they have in the past." A ripple of pride went like a Mexican wave from either side of the man. Irritated with still more self-congratulation on their part, I made the mistake of groaning a little too audibly.
Lady Doucy was less than amused.
"Marquis, you have been silent," she said, "I think Lord Clouet's plan to be a good one, one that avoids bloodshed. What is your opinion?"
The room went deathly quiet, waiting with bated breath for my answer. A pin could have dropped and sounded off like our cannons at that point. Not one to be intimidated, I stared back at Lady Doucy for a moment.
"With respect, Lord Clouet has no idea what he is proposing," I said bluntly, "He is in fact asking that we unleash a whole host of terrible new weapons on a world with no understanding of the consequences of their use, or how to use them effectively. It would be a bloodbath, not a bloodless coup."
Discontent erupted immediately, their precious preferred plans laid waste by my words. Not caring one bit for their preferences, I simply drank my coffee and waited for someone to restore order. Lady Doucy finally managed to do so, before giving the floor to Clouet, who had turned an unhealthy red under his half-mask.
"Perhaps you say this as you mean to keep such powerful weapons for yourselves?" the fat orange-masked monkey asked impertinently, "I would remind the Marquis that although he may outrank us on his native soil, he is Baron des Arbes' vassal here. He has no right to refuse, no sense to refuse, and not enough soldiers of his own to refuse should we simply wish to take what we need."
A marquis outranked a baron by a several steps up the hierarchy, being above even a count, but my only formal Orlesian title was as Baronet of L'Ambassade, which ranked below baron by a step. Still, not bad for someone who was actually a commoner.
Several of the parties looked at each other nervously, having been drawn into the man's threat without permission. It was ridiculous to the point of not even warranting a response, of course. I just smiled menacingly at the idiot, causing his personal guard to reach for a sword. My hand put down my coffee mug on a small table, and reached for my handcannon, almost of its own volition. Things were getting close to losing control, our intent so obvious.
Armen saved the day by clearing his throat. He had been in a short and private conversation with Velarana and Leha just moments before.
"Lord Clouet, the Circle of Magi at Hearth would be extremely displeased if you and your allies were to attack our home and our protectors," he said coolly, grinning away, "While we do not wish to appear to be taking sides, I beg you to consider the consequences."
In other words, fuck off from this line of inquiry before we decide to turn you into a frog. Most surprising was that Velarana appeared to be in full agreement with that sentiment, looking at Clouet like he was a rat who had just stood up on a dinner table. My eyebrows would have hit the roof, if such a thing were possible. I had no idea she felt so strongly.
The man himself was not dissuaded yet.
"Did you hear that?" he said, turning to the Revered Mother and Knight-Commander, "Are you just going to let them threaten me?"
"I heard no threat from the mages," said Brandon fiercely, "I heard you threaten to bring war down upon my flock, for no reason other than your own ends. Which would be a profane act under the gaze of the Maker. What about you, Knight-Commander Barris?"
"There are many precedents for mages defending their circles with their magic," Barris intoned knowingly, "It would be no crime for them to do so, should Lord Clouet and others decide to attack." The unspoken assumption being Barris would add his sword to our muskets and the mages' magic, should that happen.
"We all defend our friends and family to the death," Velarana added, "As it should be. Lord Clouet, we are offering you our friendship today. Please do not dishonour that gesture with vulgar threats."
The Knight-Enchanter's words were the final straw. Clouet's visible skin turned from red to a deeply pale tone, as he understood that he had been outmanoeuvred. He stood up, not without difficulty, and stepped in front of Julie and I with surprising grace. He bowed deeply before us, one hand on his hip and another held out in front of him in supplication. His black silk clothing shifting was the only sound to be heard before he spoke, as the room looked on silently.
"I withdraw my remarks, and humbly beg your pardon," he said with absolute propriety. I was stunned at the ostentatious move, but Julie was embarrassed enough to speak.
"We understand," she said, tone uncertain, "Your lands might be the first destroyed, your people the first killed, if we do not succeed in an attack. There is nothing to forgive, you were speaking in earnest." The man bowed again, less deeply and with more cheer. Lady Doucy seemed positively titillated, chatting about what had just happened. It appeared we were being mocked, and while everyone was distracted, I said as much to Julie and Tam. They were unamused at the prospect.
"Perhaps we can return to the point at hand?" the Baroness intervened, "Should we go to war now or wait for Her Radiance, Empress Celene, to declare it?"
Julie finally decided she had enough of the dance, and stood up herself, drawing herself to her full height.
"With respect, it shall not be anyone here who decides when the war will begin, nor shall it be the Empress," she declared, "The people have been awoken as much as you have. They demand their natural rights. What you must decide now is whether or not you shall support them, and deliver your country new strength, or if you shall ignore their wishes and have your lands bathed in the fires of war regardless. You are their betters by right of blood and obligations to them, shall you abandon your birthright and duties?"
She paused, unsure how to continue and needing air. She was far from the only one left breathless by those words.
"I will fight with them and for them," she said at last, "To my dying breath."
Her green eyes peered over to Tam and I, making us aware of just who she was talking about. My love for her rose in my chest, as did my pride in her words. Tam put her hand on my shoulder from behind, and I put my own over hers.
Skull-Mask rose from his seat with a heave-ho, helped up by his niece, and scanned the room to make sure everyone was listening. He pointed at Julie.
"I cannot sit idly by while this woman of common blood outdoes we fine nobles at being noble," he boomed, before turning to Julie, "We are with you." His hand became a fist, then both uncle and niece placed their hands over their hearts, and bowed their heads briefly in the traditional Orlesian military salute. We knew that they would be joining the effort from the beginning, but Skull-Mask had the longest bloodlines of anyone present, or so I would learn later. His declaration was a powerful statement.
"It would be remiss of me to fail to support my vassals in a time of crisis," the Baron joked, "I am with you too."
"I don't want my children to be killed by some bard for the lands of their father and mother," the Baroness added, throwing in her two pieces, "Orlais must change." Revealing her primary motivation for supporting us. And to think, she had been arguing to have me executed three seasons earlier. The Baron repeated Skull-Mask's military salute, while the Baroness curtsied.
"The Circle of Hearth pledges itself to the cause of Orlais," Velarana said, "There can be no greater honour." Armen came up beside her. "And no greater opportunity to prove our worth," he added, "Through this, we will prove to the world that a free mage is not simply to be shunned." Both bowed at the waist, holding their staffs with a hand each and tomes of magic with their other, supported by an ironic bow from Ciara, and a terse and shallow one from Leha.
"My turn, I guess," I said, getting up on my feet, "This is not my land of birth, but I can make it my country." As long as I was with those I had come to trust to my very core, that is. There wasn't even a question of whether or not I would fight, but I felt I needed to make the commitment verbally. Tam stepped inside the seating to join me. Julie smiled. I looked to Lord Clouet. The next domino, the last weight needed to push us over the edge.
The Baron du Midi remained seated, but spoke nonetheless.
"Support for your words is particularly strong among my vassals," Clouet said slowly, "It would be extremely unwise of me to oppose you, and if you can raise the common people and elves in our cause, then victory is assured. However, I do expect you to share your weapons, when the time is right. Is that acceptable?" I thought it entirely unacceptable, but I wasn't calling the shots at this point.
"It is," Julie said immediately and without hesitation. She had a plan for dealing with this problem, of course. Clouet stood and inclined his head, joining the accord. The other southern nobles with him followed suit. We thanked them, genuinely glad to have resolved the hostility between us.
Which left the westerners under the Baronne des Nouveaux-Landes as the only holdouts..
Furious whispers among the nobles of her faction were silenced with a hand, as she rose up, flattening the green of her green down with the other palm. Lady Doucy paced to Julie, took her shoulders, and kissed both cheeks of her mask. Finally, stepping back, she curtsied, drawing shocked gasps from her followers. Marquise or not, Julie was still of common blood, and had yet to bear 'noble issue'. I watched the two women stand off for a moment, wondering what would happen next.
"Well played, my Lady Hunt," the Baronne said with every ounce of sincerity, "We shall support you." Lady Doucy was obviously not in this for her hatred of the Game, at any rate. We never discussed why she believed in message of Le Sens Commun, but I always suspected it was due to disenfranchisement over taxes. Comtesses, marquises and duchesses made the tax laws, not baronesses. Like I said, she was an early capitalist.
"We will support each other," Julie replied, as the other lords and ladies of the western group stood up to join us.
Tam and I stood by Julie's side for the whole night, as toasts were made and general plans laid. Red wine flowed, causing idle and unimportant conversation to do so as well, much of it about happenings in Halamshiral over the winter and who was on what side of the new conflict. The relatives and children were invited to join in, including Élodie and Claire, despite the former's condition. Even Ciara was appreciated as the night stretched on, the alcohol and good atmosphere melting prejudices away faster than ideology ever could. It was a very pleasant party, to my great surprise, and we finished the night in bed more or less assured of Julie's previous words; that the world was ours for the taking.
That is how the conflict now known as the Barons' Revolt began, with great hope and hubris. With noble and commoner finally united, rather than divided.
Many who were at the party that began it would not be alive at its conclusion.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Very large chapter this time, and what a chapter it is.
We've passed 150 favourites and 200 follows, which is very good. The sort of thing that keeps me writing, to say the least, along with reviews. So cheers to all who have followed and favourited.
Once again, cheers to Drgyen for keeping the TV Tropes page up to date, and for adding this story to their official recommendations page for Dragon Age.
JaegarCryptic: More coming right up.
Meathouse: Bingeing on other stories does tend to slow writing though.
5 Coloured Walker: Great to see you're still here 200k words later.
Tactus501st: So you were looking for this sort of story? Interesting. I wonder if there's any way to maximise that effect in the story settings.
Drgyen: The truth of the Outlanders and the implications of Andraste being one of them isn't out there. In the case of the former, the secret of why they're around is carefully suppressed, and as for Andraste being an outlander, that is simply Sam's theory, albeit one supported with a good bit of circumstantial evidence.
The next VOLUME is Sam in Ferelden, as in this arc of the story will end and one in Ferelden will begin. Yes, Alistair will meet Sam, and yes, he will have heard of Le Sens Commun. Anora too, for that matter. Minor spoilers, I know, but people are interested, so...
There were many nobles and members of the aristocracy who have supported democratic reforms over the years in many countries, either out of ideological belief in them, out of a desire to keep with the popular mood or for their own personal gains. Gaspard isn't necessarily a conservative himself, but his support comes from the die hard section of the nobility, particularly in the military. He himself is used to being obeyed by soldiers immediately and without question. Still, his position is more ambiguous than simply being opposed utterly to the cause. He's a patriot too, after all.
Lord Mortem: Thanks buddy!
Verbosity: I answered you in a PM, but I think my answer is fairly relevant, so here it is for everyone else to see.
The impression I'm trying to create is one of deep tension, where Julie believes herself to be entirely in the right. It hasn't blown up because a. Sam has slowly but surely come to the opinion that she was right all along, and b. Sam doesn't exactly have a lot of other options. Julie wasn't betraying Sam so much as anticipating his reaction. He's been warned about how the powers-that-be will react to his presence and his previous actions time and again, but ignored those warnings until it was too late. In creating the weapons in secret, she was acting to protect him from himself. He obviously wasn't pleased about the deception, but he can understand the motivation more and more.
In this chapter, that comes to a head and he's embraced the cause fully. I appreciated your advice.
Asahar4: Flemeth will only be showing up once we get to the Inquisition arcs. There are currently this arc, the Ferelden arc and another arc to get out of the way before we get to the actual sky blowing up. The last two there should be fairly short though.