Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Battle of Sahrnia
The weeks leading up to the first real test of Free Orlais, as it would come to be known in the Dales, were utterly miserable. There was no indication that the first concrete step towards the creation of a new nation on Thedas, or perhaps the first nation at all, was about to be taken. One of three such events now depicted in the antechamber of the Palais de la Liberté in a rather tasteful fresco. Sometimes I look at it and wonder how long it will last, and whether or not what we've put into motion will last.
Nothing lasts forever, after all.
My patience least among them. Despite the reports of my fight with a possessed Qunari mage making the rounds, easing much of the political tension away, the march that was supposed to happen three days or so afterwards did not happen for another two weeks. The damage that had been done to our cause was not limited to the confines of Hearth itself. Qunari agents, or more likely their dupes, had spread rumours throughout the countryside. Although the majority firmly supported our cause, there was and is no shortage of reactionary elements among the peasants. Between putting down these sparks of unrest, seeing to the wounded populace and repairing key infrastructure, two weeks was very quick.
Two other problems compounded our misfortunes.
First of which I could have solved with a little more backbone, if I hadn't been dealing with all the rest of it. I had ordered approximately ten thousand to assemble for war. Ten 'legions' by Orlesian reckoning, roughly. Considering half were to be mounted on some form of horse or pony for transport, not for battle, that was as big an army as I felt safe about gathering for the logistics we could bring to feed them. Aside from that, such a number could move a lot more quickly.
Except a whole lot more than ten thousand came. Aside from troops recruited directly for my army, every noble that wanted to tag along had a personal guard, sometimes numbering more than the quota I had asked for. Inevitably, the new recruits were fresh, and the guards were seasoned veterans, but that worked to our advantage later. To say I was pissed at the nobles was an understatement, but they weren't the only perps. Mother Brandon and Knight-Commander Barris arrived with a hundred Templars, men and women Barris trusted and new recruits they could mould. Aside from them, there were the civvies. My understanding of an army in the field was so utterly alien to the Thedosian concept. On Earth, combat had become so deadly, so indiscriminate, that civilians generally did not hang around armies. They fled combat zones or died. On Thedas, camp followers ranging in role from the families of soldiers to enterprising prostitutes and merchants were commonplace. Still are, among some armies.
So, by the time we marched, we had about twenty thousand soldiers under arms in our forces, only half of which were under my direct command, and thousands more tagging along no matter how many threats I made to dissuade them. That the entirety of the army was getting paid for their service was far too big a draw. The nobles were paying their own, and my troops were getting combat pay for the duration of 'high intensity' operations, so were even more flush than usual. They camped out around Hearth for the two weeks, doing nothing for the first few days until I had the levied forces drilled daily on our parade ground by our own veterans. The nobles' troops mostly milled about inside Hearth itself.
Then it rained for a week. Not particularly hard, but enough to wash the blood from the road between Hearth and L'Ambassade. Enough to muddy up the highways, to make moving our heaviest artillery near impossible.
Without Tam urging patience, and distracting us in the way that only she could, I think Julie and I would have organised around-the-clock firing squads. With cannons. Ciara's help in organising everything and soothing our frustrations was also invaluable. Armen made things worse by feuding with Velarana about the Templars, but we sorted that out in ten minutes when I placed the Templars under his direct command. The Libertarians got their regiment, half-mage, half-Templar. Barris accepted it gracefully. Armen grumbled.
Regardless, the march began at the first break in the weather.
We all knew it was a long shot. The enemy had rallied around the Marquis DuRellion, the overlord of much of the lands bordering Fereldan on the Frostbacks and nominally a loyalist to the Empress. Interestingly, he would later become a prominent supporter of the Inquisition, but at this time, he was twisted into supporting our enemies due to their own loyalty to Gaspard or distrust of our revolutionary fervour. Like Skull-Mask, they were all military minded. Aside from the enemy themselves, we would be operating at the very edge of logistics Leha and I had planned carefully. Even excluding camp followers, food had to be strictly controlled. The delay had also hacked into our funds, and although much of it came back to us via our enterprises, if we didn't make our objective, we would be bankrupt in another two weeks. We couldn't bring our business with us, after all. Without nobles pitching in, it would be very close indeed, something Julie insisted on avoiding. Debt to them was death to the revolution, she said. I laughed, but agreed.
So we marched, and marched hard. Morale dropped like a rock. Everyone had gotten used to drilling or doing some light reconstruction work in the day, drinking and whoring at night. Padding through the mud, even after I ordered the mages at the front of the column to harden the roads as best they could, was an unwelcome change. So too was the news that our enemy had mustered a much larger force, and was undoubtedly marching out to meet us. I had split up the army into three, so we could move more quickly, and fears that the enemy would fall upon one part before the other two could gather were very real. So real you could literally smell it on their sweat, something I wouldn't have thought possible before. My true homeland's army was essentially unassailable, so it was very much a new experience. It has a harsh tang to it, completely different to what you get with raw aggression and exertion. That smell certainly was familiar.
Our destination was Sahrnia, a major town occupying high ground in the north-east of the Emprise, bordering Skull-Mask's own fief, stretching as it did along the mountainsides. It was not important territory by any standard of the day. The Baroness of Sahrnia, one Lady Poulin, was not highly regarded and was a complete non-entity in the Game. For us however, it was absolutely essential ground. Sahrnia was home to quarries that exported material to every part of Thedas, but most crucially, it was our source of raw materials for manufacturing pretty much everything. Aside from silverite with which our cannons were made, one of the ingredients for blackpowder was found there in great quantities as a byproduct, alongside lead deposits for ammunition, and various herbs for medicines.
If we took the town, its smithies and its quarries, the price-tag on our new firelances would become low enough to allow something like mass production. If we lost it, we wouldn't be able to get a reliable supply of blackpowder, and we'd be back to fighting wars the old way inside a month. Likely sooner.
If we lost at all, our movement would likely collapse and the vultures perched elsewhere would swoop down on us from all sides. Jader, the Exalted Plains, the Crownlands around Halamshiral... the nobles there would eagerly tear us apart, loyalty to Celene or Gaspard being meaningless when it comes to land grabs.
Not that anyone cared but my own people. The nobles grumbled about why we would be taking a mountain town of no importance to them. The commoners grumbled about the forced march. The camp followers grumbled about the army being split up. Everyone grumbled about the mud. And occasionally, fights broke out about the affections of one whore or another, among common men and nobles alike. The fighting women rather generously left their contribution in that at rolling their eyes and shaking their heads.
Things were animated, at least.
The cherry on the top of the cake was showing up on the plains below Sahrnia to find that the enemy had shown up to block us. All forty thousand of them, clearly the largest force that could be assembled at that spot in the time we had given them. Not the full force of the enemy, but more than enough to cause us trouble. We had plenty of warning, my lancers had been sent far ahead to scout, so our army converged on the flat farmlands. Didn't mean I was happy about it. I watched from a balcony of a farmhouse, as our armies began to square off at some distance.
They were offering battle.
I was rather distracted by the backdrop, as I wondered whether or not to accept their offer. The rolling, rocky foothills were spectacular to look at on their own, but made more so by the structures that had been built atop them.
Even the light-grey of overcast skies didn't defuse the beauty.
Suledin Keep was the most obvious, the old elven fortress a marvel to behold even as a ruin. The enemy weren't bottled up in there for the obvious reasons; they had the numbers, and we had enough mages to make fixed defence a poor idea. I was very glad they hadn't been stupid, destroying such a place with cannonshot would have been a real pity. Of course, Inquisitor Trevelyan probably would have disagreed, given that she had to clear the place out some two years later.
The 'Pools of the Sun' stood in elegant silence, hotsprings framed by colosseums, one ruined and two intact. The town of Sahrnia itself was also visible, stout rounded guard towers rising up from the green treetops, the peaks of their roofs in red slate. Running between the two sights most remarkably was a bridge supported by high arches, in stunning white marble. The remains of another bridge connecting to older, depleted mines were at the other side of the town, but still had a function as the top of a great wood-and-rope elevator, so the ore of the quarry could be brought to the town and its river-port further downstream.
The River Suledin itself was a surprisingly broad thing, despite crashing down from the mountains behind the town via two or three large waterfalls near the settlements. The distance meant that I could not hear their roar or churning, but the spray floated off into the air visibly at least. Not that I could have heard anything over the continuous chomping of my soldiers' boot soles.
Sharper foot and staff falls woke me from my inspection.
"A beautiful place, is it not?" asked Armen, approaching from behind, "It will make a fine addition to your little empire."
I winced. I didn't appreciate the idea that I was in fact building an empire, and I gave him a dark look. His trademark grin budged not a millimetre.
"Don't be insulted at that, Sam, it's true," Armen said flatly, "And you'll live longer." The thought that he should be having this discourse with Julie crossed my mind, briefly. Provocatrice that she was.
"You might not," I joked.
"True, but then you would have to deal with Ciara," Armen mused. The Dalish girl being far more dangerous to me than any mage ever could be.
I grunted my concession of that point, not pleased with the idea of facing Ciara in a fight to the death. I would almost certainly hesitate to shoot her, and she would almost certainly wound me badly because of it.
"There are a lot of them," Armen said bluntly, "Are you sure that we can do this?"
The colourful banners and shields of the enemy stretched far enough that you could look at the middle of their formation and not see the edges of it. I had to move my gaze to take in the entirety. It was still as much a patchwork of forces as ours were, perhaps more so, a collection of much more smaller armies. The infantry and cavalry were distributed almost at random, though crossbowmen and archers were the front of the entire line. No sign of artillery, not even the ballistas that were so popular among Orlesians at this time.
"Of course we can do it," said Tam firmly, materialising from the upper room adjoining the balcony, "The Barons Pierre and Maurice are skilled warriors and leaders, and we have created an antaam that no Orlesian has ever seen the like of. We'll win." Her confidence boosted mine, and I frowned as I realised that her opinion mattered almost as much as the facts to me, worrying about what that meant for the whole enterprise.
"Even if the troops are scared witless?" Armen riposted, "They're fighting each other over the slightest cause, and if it wasn't for fear of Sam and respect for Julie, far more would have deserted by now." All of which was very true. Even the brawls over the whores had been more a product of the mood than any lack of supply.
"Fear is a useful thing, saarebas," Tam replied firmly, "It is the basis of all discipline, and it sharpens the mind for struggle to come. Men die on the battlefield, they are right to fear it." Tam very much being in the 'scare them straight' camp of child-rearing, despite her great patience with toddlers. To her, training a soldier was much alike to raising a kid. Can't help but see the similarities myself. Never any trouble between us on that count.
"They're even more right to fear our fearless leader," Armen noted, nodding in my direction, "He seems as cool as a pool of water, and that scares me."
Taken aback that I seemed so calm, I leaned on the balcony's railing and peered over at the nearest troops. Some were stealing glances at me, and sure enough, the looks of confusion I seemed to be generating confirmed Armen's sentiments. In truth, my gut felt like it was being scrambled and forced up into my throat. The weight of failure there was mind-numbing. Perhaps that is why I appeared to be handling it all so well.
I made my decision.
"They've offered battle, they block the way to something we absolutely must have, so we will attack," I explained, falling back on technicalities to distract me, "If we lose, our entire movement dies and our heads will all be on spikes by summer."
I pointed to the enemy. "Those men and women over there have other options."
Armen's eyes narrowed and his smile dampened. "I didn't know desperation had military uses," he said, shaking his head.
"It does now," I responded tersely, "Thank Tallis, if you're unhappy." Though he would have had to ride back to Hearth, and enter the rather dreary setting of the Baron's dungeon, to do so. Her quarters were too good, as far as I was concerned.
"At least everyone still seems to be moving," Armen continued, "I would have thought they would be weak from all that marching." Food shares had been upped during the past two days to insure that, I had seen to it.
"Best we get started," I said, "Armen, would you mind fetching Julie and the others? The useless ones too." Meaning the nobles.
The mage inclined his head to acquiesce, and left quickly. Not before giving Tam a dopey grin again, dirty-minded idiot that he was at such inappropriate moments, but I forgave him regardless. After all, he was going to be right beside me.
Tam came closer, drawing up alongside me, bending over the railing and resting her elbows on the wood. Which had extremely gratifying effects on her person, silver-gold hair spilling forwards onto grey skin, exposed to the extent that the latter usually was. Cheering me up to a considerable degree. It was my turn to grin like an idiot, as uncontrollable as it was. Of course, Tam had wandering attentions too, however quiet she was about it.
"Remember when that chevalier came hunting us, on that hill?" Tam began, slowly, "We were stuck in a hole, waiting for the fight." The warm memory flooded back into my mind. I hadn't thought of that moment for a while, and it was pleasant to recall it.
"How could I forget," I replied, half-laughing, "Julie's proposal."
"We're in a similar situation now, are we not?" Tam said, her even tone of voice at complete odds with the suggestion she was making.
"Eh, yes?" I said, "So?"
"You idiot," she replied laughing, shaking her head.
Tam brought herself to her full height, that is a few inches above my own, turning to me. Her violet eyes filled my sight, as she came closer. She brought both her hands onto my cheeks, lightly holding my head in place. The kiss came softly, not as lustful as the many we had shared before, but far more possessive. Almost desperately so. Her hands moved away from my face and onto my shoulders. My own moved to the the small of her back. Her compassion, her discipline, her fearlessness in a fight, I was very glad to have that by my side. It was a relief given what we were about to face.
We stood there, entangled in each other.
A deep cough struck the air. We broke off the kiss, not the rest of the contact, and turned our heads towards the room, the source of the noise. Standing there was Julie and Leha.
The former grinning, her hands on her hips. She was in Earth gear, firelance slung over her shoulder, her brown hair leaking out of her helmet, combat webbing packed with ammunition. Warhammer on her hip. Damn. Leha was in her own battle gear; chainmail, scabbard and crossbow.
They paced over together.
"You're about to lead an army into battle for the first time," Leha said, "And you're up here, snogging the Qunari. In front of the same army." A finger extended outwards to the troops beyond. They were watching with intense interest. The units directly by us were our own, so some took it as a sign to kiss their loved ones goodbye.
Inadvertently, I had made our morale problem worse. Possibly. I cursed under my breath.
"I think I am," I said, lost for any other response.
Leha's head would have spun off her head, if she had shook it any harder. "Unbelievable," she muttered, throwing her hands up, "You're children." The woman in my arms was less than amused by this response.
"In less than an hour, we'll be facing death," Tam snapped, "I insist on enjoying a last moment before we do." Julie's ideas had rubbed off on her further, as you can tell from that line. She illustrated by drawing me still closer, no less. The dwarf stepped forward, anger on her face. Our lover paced ahead of her, cutting onto her path.
"You'll have to forgive Leha," Julie put in kindly, "She's had bad feelings about this whole thing for days now."
"Nightmares, never mind bad feelings," the dwarf corrected, "Mind-shaking nightmares."
I pulled away from Tam slightly, and examined Leha more closely. Sure enough, her eyes had bags, and her skin was of a less healthy colour than usual. She was dressed for battle at least, chainmail and padded leather hugging her form, crossbow on her back and her sword at her waist. She was not so tired to abandon her duty. Her future was as tied up with the success of the revolution as anyone else's, perhaps more so.
"Well, it's too late now," said Julie, "No use crying over spilled milk, as Sam says."
With that said, she came up and kissed us both. When it was over, my entire body felt twice as heavy. A sense of dread. That it might be the last time. I knew that I wasn't the only one feeling it either.
The planning of the battle was swift and almost non-existent, because we did not have many options, as outnumbered as we were. It relied entirely on our new advantages. Our army was arranged according to what sort of soldiers we had.
Filling out fully half our line from the left, I placed the troops that I hadn't expected to show up; the noble's household troops and levies they had brought for their personal glory. Where they wouldn't get in the way, and where their experience in primitive warfare could counteract the enemy's elite, which was facing them. Their line curved away towards the rear, so that the enemy couldn't use their numbers to simply bypass and surround us. Skull-Mask was put in general command of these troops, as he was by far the most experienced at commanding just such an army. He was also the most experienced at dealing with chevaliers.
From the centre to the right was the beginnings of the Free Army, the levies I had asked for from each of the lords who had signed up to our alliance. They were joined by troops from Hearth that weren't my own, and were armed pretty much as any other Orlesian was at the time. With a few modifications. They had been trained over the weeks previous to move and fight in formation, something that was largely alien to Thedosian armies. These men and women were under Pierre's command. I didn't trust him with anything as a rule, considering he coveted Julie, but the exception was this sort of job. He knew what he was doing. He had spent the spare weeks familiarising himself with our methods too, a most admirable move.
From the right to the edge of our line bordered by the trees and the river were the Peacekeepers. The Knight-Enchanters, the Grenadiers, the Libertarians, the Long-Spears, and the Rangers. Joined by their newest brothers and sisters in arms, the Vice-Regal Guard; Louise de Villars and her chevaliers. The artillery was parked along the raised banks of the river, their line of fire cleared of trees by their assisting mages, ready to be floated downriver back to Hearth on commandeered ore-barges if things went south.
Julie, Tam, Ciara, Leha, Blondie and I were in front of all of this a little ways, mounted up in a line of desert-camouflaged uniforms in front a sea of green ones. A ring of chevaliers to our back and sides. Armen was with the Knight-Enchanters, commanding the Libertarian mages from the front. Politics was behind that move.
The wait was horrible. I leaned back in my saddle and looked up at the sky. The clouds were thin, but covered every patch of blue. Two eagles circled over head, diving at each other. I wasn't sure if they were mating or fighting, but it distracted me for a bit.
The enemy completely failed to be impressed by our arrangements, and I guess the Marquis DuRellion wanted to get it over with before dinner. Horns blew and shouts raised themselves in salute to the lords of the Emprise. Fearlessly, the troops stretching before us began marching directly forwards, through the fallow farmland and hardening mud, as if we were nothing but insects to be crushed. I cursed under my breath at their confidence, finding my own bruised.
A great groan went up from our own line, adding to my woes.
"Well then... Good luck," I said on the radio, "Stick to the plan, and we'll have a chance." The plan being to let them come into range of our cannons, firelances and mages on the right, while the left held as best it could. Not exactly a proactive strategy.
A variety of acknowledgements came from my colonels, ranging from McNulty's cursing complaints to Velarana's proper and formal affirmative. Everyone handling the sight in their own way.
"They really don't like us," Ciara said beside me.
"We're shaking the ground on which they've built their lives," remarked Julie, her eyes scanning the oncoming hordes, "They'll never accept elves or mages as their equals." Which was true, for many of them. For many back home too, only the strength and prestige of our movement holding back expression of those hatreds.
"Or they've been offered bonuses for the first to get stuck in," Leha interrupted.
"More likely," Tam said, "Doesn't matter, they'll kill us with glee."
"We shall see," sniffed Louise de Villars, clearly liking her own chances.
I looked out to our troops, extending hundreds of yards to my left. The hesitations they had felt were beginning to affect their behaviour. Heads swivelled between the enemy and their fellows in the line, the sergeants barking and pointing at wavering individuals to hold the line. Guilt poured over me, knowing that I had made that worse.
"Fuck," I said, simply and dreadfully. I returned my attention to the enemy. They were about a third of the way there, avoiding the wooded river embankment, sweeping down in the open where they could bring their numbers to bear, where they could shoot at the mages from as far away as possible.
What happened next still beggars my belief.
In my peripheral vision, Julie looked at me and at our army. Before I could ask her what she was doing, she gave her reins a tug and shouted. Immediately, Revas took off, carrying her onwards in a flash of white. Directly towards the enemy, no less. Julie took off her helmet, and her long hair caught in the breeze. Everyone would know it was her now, even those looking to kill us. Both armies watched in stunned fascination, myself included.
There was a small hillock, no higher than a man's shoulders but broad enough to hold a horse or two with ease. A mound really, about a third of the remaining distance between the armies. Revas hopped up onto it, Julie atop her, visible to every man and woman present.
The thinning clouds parted, and sunlight poured onto her, beams of it.
Revas reared up, and Julie raised her warhammer above her head, taunting the enemy. The horse went back on all fours but Julie kept her weapon held aloft, shouting for the common soldiers facing us to keep their arms and to turn against their lords. Her exact words were lost in the din of moving flesh and metal.
The two eagles that had been circling above dove down. One silver-headed, the other a rich brown from head to claw, and together, glided over and landed on Julie's warhammer, on the handle to either side of her clutched hand. Facing the enemy, they let out more shrieks, wings spread. Julie froze, looking up at them over her shoulder.
That is why today, our coat of arms and that of two of the great houses feature eagles perched on warhammers. Supported by lightning bolts, though that is a nod to Armen's great contributions to our cause.
"What in the name of..." I thought aloud.
The troops that had been moving forward so boldly stopped their advance dead too.
A great roar went up from our lines, most loudly from our own troops but shared by every commoner in the Free Army.
"VIVE LA FAYETTE!"
"VIVE LA FAYETTE!"
"VIVE LA FAYETTE!"
The words continued in a one-one-two beat, like a drum or a trumpet. By a set of miracles, our army's fighting spirit had been restored.
I was numb for a minute afterwards. A nudge from Tam later, and I recovered my senses.
"Mother Brandon may be right," I said to no one in particular, "This is too much of a coincidence."
"This is Julie," Tam smiled, "Maker-sent or not." Not that my Qunari lover believed in the Maker anyway.
The first of our opponents to recover, inevitably, were the nobles, whom were far less impressed by the display than their vassals. Three companies of heavy cavalry trotted out from their lines, their crossbowmen getting out of the way only just in time. Their infantry stalled behind them, they galloped towards Julie's hillock. The hairs on my neck stood on end. I panicked.
"Alright, Joan of Arc," I said quickly and urgently on our personal radio channel, "Time to get out of there."
"I want to, but the damn eagles are refusing to fly away!" Julie growled back,.
She was still holding the warhammer up over her head. To everyone else, it seemed to be sheer defiance. History certainly records it as such. Perhaps it was, to some degree. It may have had more to do with not having her face clawed to pieces by her new friends. Still, the consequence was another round of cacophonous shouts. The enemy knights moved forwards, relenting not one moment. Contemptuous of our upstart soldiers.
"Tam," I said. She knew what I meant immediately.
"You two," Tam shouted, pointing to the two nearest chevaliers, one of whom was holding the UN flag, "With me!"
Fritz jumped off into a run, tracking Revas' hoof-prints in the dirt and grass. Tam made good time towards Julie. The blue banner followed, with the chevaliers below it. Julie finally managed to get Revas to begin moving towards Tam and the escort, but the horse was far more skittish than Bellona or Fritz. The eagles utterly refused to budge, and the animal was unused to seeing them so close.
My throat closed on itself as I realised the enemy would reach Julie first, and would catch the whole group. Without a doubt. I coughed hard to clear my airways, struggling to get the words them out.
"Artillery, enemy cavalry advancing on the Banner, fire at will!"
"Yes, Viceroy," said the even tones of the Tranquil commanding the battery that week. I have to say, the emotionless delivery did a world of good for my own calm. To my right on a jutting portion of the embankment, the gunners began the loading procedure for the fifteen cannons, the lighter ones that we managed to get through the mud. It took an agonisingly long time from my perspective.
The gallop of the enemy knights turned into an all out charge, their line fraying as those on the faster warhorses broke ahead of the pack. Still the eagles refused to move. Julie had abandoned trying to get them to, having attempted everything short of shooting them. She appeared to be trying to pull out her handcannon to do just that. Or that she was preparing to stand her ground against hundreds. Tam drew up alongside her, longsword at the ready, as the two escorting chevaliers waited at the bottom of the mound. I shouted again for the cannons to fire.
"Ready, ready, ready," chimed the Tranquil battery officers in turn, not caring for my desperation, following their training to the tee.
"Fire," said their commander.
The cannons roared, and the eagles flew off. The rifled-bolts sailed through the air, making an eerie warbling-whistling sound as they did so. "The Fire Wyrms' Call" they call it now in history books.
The great disadvantage of bringing the Tranquil into combat is that they will tend to underestimate or misjudge the risks to their friends, or take their orders too literally. The enemy cavalry couldn't have been more than five paces away from Julie when the shots arrived, or at least the first three were. The closest took a shot to his horse's neck, decapitating it in a spray of gore. The other two took a single round together, sweeping through the side of the front rider and thumping into the head of the horse behind. The other thirteen rounds landed in among the rest of the formation, killing many and shocking the survivors into a halt, as horses turned and bucked, confused and afraid of what was happening.
I barely registered this. Julie had been in the middle of the storm of flying metal, and more to the point, the blood from the foremost rider and horse had covered her from head to toe. Revas stumbled. I had no idea if she had been hit, but it looked like it.
"CEASE FIRE!" I roared, loud enough so the Tranquil could have heard me in hell, radio or not.
"Acknowledged, Viceroy," came the toneless reply. The gunners kept swabbing the cannons' insides, preparing for the next volley.
I turned my eyes back to Julie, as the army jeered. She was fine, though coloured a slick dark red. Revas was back on solid footing, and she waving her helmet around as she galloped back towards us with a very relieved looking Tam and the two bewildered chevaliers. The jeering continued at the enemy, as they rallied in the middle of the fields, not sure what to do now that they had been bloodied. There certainly were a good number fewer of them than I had counted when they had first moved.
Julie and Tam returned beside me. The former looked a bit sick. Even her face was covered with sticky, drying ichor. Most of it horse blood.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"No," Julie replied, almost remaining stoic, "But at least I know my weapons work." She poured her canteen flask over her head, squeezing the gore out of her hair and wiping her face off. She gagged a little, but held herself firm. She tied the hair in a long tail, so it wouldn't bother her.
"You did not need to get that close to confirm such a thing," Tam said, sheathing her sword, "We almost lost you."
"She'll do what she'll do," Leha chided, aiming her comment at the Qunari, "Don't bother trying to stop her."
I breathed deeply outwards, as if for the first time after surfacing from the ocean. How utterly nerve wrecking it is, to be taken to such a high only for a nightmare to drown you, and then tossed back to relief. That's why we drink, I guess.
The enemy cavalry were in retreat now at last, and the rest of our opposition remained rooted to the spot. Perhaps believing themselves out of range of whatever mechanical monstrosities we had brought to bear on the flower of the Emprise's nobility. Our own troops continued shouting and jeering, their own fears completely forgotten in the drama that had played out before their eyes. The Maker's omens, the treacherous charge by the enemy, the defiant stand, the enemy struck down as if by divinity itself.
"They're enthusiastic," remarked Ciara, her bow across her lap, pointing at our troops.
It occurred to me at that moment that their zeal might die at any second, the reality of the numbers against us pressed home once again. I had to act.
"Peacekeepers, close with the enemy," I ordered by radio, "Artillery, target the main body and fire at will."
"Yes, my lord!" came the reply from all of my colonels, Mike's shout half-drowning out the others.
The shouts from the sergeants echoed, as the commands were given. The music began, fifes and drums piercing the air with their sounds, as the one and a half thousand men and women under my command marched forward bravely. No need to relay the command to the rest of the army. They'd get the picture.
McNulty's guys began to sing along to the tune in Common, at the top of their lungs, punctuating their steps with the lyrics.
Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules,
Of Aveline and Drakon and such brave names as these,
But of all the world's heroes, there's none that can compare,
With the tow row row row row row to Hunt's Grenadiers!
An interesting song, if only due to the mixture of Earth and Orlesian storytelling.
The sound encouraged the others greatly, and the pace picked up visibly. The others looked on in awe at the sight of such a small force marching on thirty to forty times their number. I on the other hand would have been surprised if they had failed to march. I had drilled and drilled this discipline and élan into them since the summer before, and fought alongside them in the skirmishes against the Templars. My pride grew in my chest. In retrospect, it was very much akin to watching my sons and daughters walk for the first time on their own.
"Soprano, Blondie, you're with us," I radioed, "Follow my banner along the river." The cannons sounded off their first barrage into the general throng of the enemy infantry, precluding any response.
The Charge of the Peacekeepers had begun.
The details of the full battle have been explored in my other, more public writings, but I will commit my own direct memories of the fighting to record here.
We rode ahead of the advance through the woods by the river, the enemy having given that area a wide berth for fear of ambush. I remember weaving through the trees quite vividly, heartbeat banging away in my ear, added to the hooves' beats of the horses behind me. Every few seconds, I'd look around to the left, expecting to see chevaliers coming to stop us. They didn't come, and eventually, we drew up alongside the enemy army. We dismounted the infantry quickly, and had the horseboys take our mounts to the river.
Blondie and Soprano wasted little time in arranging their people, our troops loading their weapons, while our … family group paced to the edge of the forest to see what else was happening. I was of course getting reports in my ear from the other colonels, but these were clipped. The fighting had started. I wanted to see it with my own eyes, and was in a decent place to do so, being on the raised embankment. I took out my binoculars and looked around.
First thing I saw was that there was a ruckus among the enemy's rear ranks, as they wheeled ranks soldiers towards us. Quite possibly enough to stop us. In theory. The thing most people forget in military calculations is the will to fight. Your numbers are always multiplied by the aggression of your own troops, and the same is true of the enemy. So, I was rather unimpressed by the forces arranging themselves against us. The Rangers were by far the most aggressive people around.
To the left of the gathering forces, the rest of the Peacekeepers were getting stuck in. Already, flurries of magical bolts were scurrying through the air, through the exchange of bolts and arrows. It looked like Pierre had brought up the rest of the Free Army too, and was closing in to close up the centre. Old Maurice and the nobles' troops weren't anywhere to be seen, but that was fine. If they stood their ground, I had ideas about turning the whole battle and rolling up their lines like rolling up a carpet.
I grinned to myself, as I saw it.
"Good news?" asked Ciara, having noticed me.
"We might have them by the balls," I replied.
"Ouch," Leha remarked.
"Very," I said, "Stick by me, we'll be going forwards soon."
Ciara nodded, and nocked her bow with a plate-piercing squarehead arrow. Tam and Julie followed suit, readying bow and firelance respectively, Leha having never slung her crossbow in the first place. I kept mine at my side. The time hadn't come yet.
The next cannon volley whirred through the air, straight into the front ranks of the largest body of footmen facing off against the Long-Spears. Even from a distance, the … pink mist was clearly visible, as dozens of men were killed and the rest put on notice. I could not help but think the latter insanely brave. One of my followers had different views.
"Maker save us," Louise de Villars said, clutching a pendant of Andraste, "I have not seen anything like that before."
She had foregone her mask for the moment, and had paled at the sight. I frowned, not at her squeamishness at seeing men ripped apart, as if by a force of nature rather than a tool of war. No, I simply realised that my betrayal of a principle I swore to defend had come at last.
"And now I am become death," I quoted, "The destroyer of worlds."
All heads turned to me, horrified. Except for Julie. She was familiar with the quote and the context in which it was most famously used. She simply smiled. Peace through strength; words quite literally tattooed on her, body and soul. Motto of her household now, and of more than half my grandchildren. However harsh that may be, I have had great reason to be glad that such a lesson has been passed on to them.
I saw that our chevaliers, now in half-plate for a frontal attack, and the Rangers were ready at the front. The Lancers remained to the rear. Soprano joined us, her hair and pointed ears poking out from under her Earth helmet, her form covered with kevlar. If it wasn't for the ears, she would have passed more or less.
"Colonel," I nodded, returning my gaze to the battle.
The battle had nearly closed to melee. The pikemen, their pikes at full length in battle for the first time, were almost in the enemy's gizzards. The enemy soldiers weren't stupid enough to simply run into them, and were backing off. Elsewhere, a few dozen steilhandgranates were bursting in the enemy ranks as McNulty's boys closed the gap.
Perhaps most spectacular were the mages and Templars. Spirit blades and steel-rimmed shields, both moving to crush the enemy as one. I spotted Armen out front. Just as I began to wonder what the hell he was playing at, a gout of flame thirty feet long erupted from his staff like a flamethrower. Sticky flames too, not simply Fade-fire. He immolated thirty men, before Templars closed shields in front of him to deflect the crossbow bolts that were sure to come in retaliation. Armen's youth often struck me as at odds with his position among his kind, but if there is anything that demonstrates he was among equals at the top of the mage ranks, it is this display of elemental power.
"Looks like Armen has things well in hand," I said, "Colonel, Lady de Villars... stand to."
Soprano called over her sergeant, the same sergeant that had fetched me from Élodie's home before the Qunari-inspired riots.
"Bayonets," she said to her subordinates. The sergeant saluted.
"BAYONETS!" roared the sergeant. She was more quiet than Mike, now Colonel Mike, but loud enough to make my ears hurt.
The Rangers stood a step forward together, placed the butts of the firelances on the ground, and held the barrels out. In a single sweeping motion, they pulled the long, tapered silverite sword-bayonets from scabbards on their back, and locked them onto the bottoms of their weapons. As one, they brought their weapons to their shoulders, and reformed their line in closer order. It was parade-ground work they had done a thousand times. The hard part was to come.
The chevaliers drew their swords and moved in behind the Rangers, the typical arrangement of ranged and melee troops in Orlais.
"Okay, let's see..." I muttered, bringing up my binoculars yet again.
I immediately saw what I had been waiting for. The physical clash of soldiers had finally begun. 'Beard to beard' as the Bard would say. The enemy's front was now heavily engaged and could not withdraw. Furthermore, the troops sent to intercept us had finally formed up and were moving towards us. Perfect.
"That's it," I said to Soprano and Blondie, "Move out."
The drum beat the advance, and the Rangers stepped in unison, moving their weapons from their shoulders and into their hands. The Vice-Regal Guard paced behind, shields raised and swords resting on top of them. The Lancers trotted at the back.
We were up front, with a group of ten chevaliers. No real danger there; the troops across from us had no ranged weapons. All of those had been sent against the mages. It didn't take long for me to realise that they were favoured men though. No wooden shields and cheap spears for them. Chainmail, partial-plate and longswords. Similar enough to our own chevaliers, albeit cheaper. More expendable. There were a few more of them than us, but not by much. All I saw was dead men walking, as I unslung my own assault-firelance.
Tam and Ciara ran ahead a little, and started the fight. They loosed two arrows into the throng, catching their targets. It didn't do much, as far as I could tell, the padding underneath their armour doing much to stop the lethality of the arrows. Despite this, they began running towards us at a steady job.
"Halt," called Soprano, her voice echoing on the radio. The Rangers stopped, and tidied up their line. I took a knee in front. Julie and Leha copied me, aiming their weapons, while Ciara and Tam loosed another few speculative arrows. I considered joining in, but rejected the idea. No need to warn the enemy of what was coming. Soprano was on top of it now.
"Presentez vos armes!"
The Rangers brought their muzzle-loaded firelances up and cocked their flints. The enemy was about one hundred and twenty yards away and closing.
"En joue!"
The Rangers took aim, at the closest individual targets, as they had been trained to do.
"FEU!"
Our line erupted in noise and white smoke, as two hundred firelances went off at once. The minié balls struck home, the wounds sprouting like red flowers on the white-and-green tabards of their victims. The Black Lion of the House of Chalons had been dirtied with it, to boot. As had happened to the zealots we had put to the sword in Hearth, it wasn't simply a case of people being struck in the chest or gut. Limbs were lost, causing those behind and to the sides to stumble, as the unfortunate losers spun and fell. Yet they still came on.
"Julie," I said.
"Ready," she replied.
We brought up our own firelances, and began cracking off bursts. We targeted anyone who looked more important than the rest; anyone with feathers, a hat or a mask. By the time we had emptied our magazines, no one wearing those items was left to be seen.
"En joue! FEU!"
The second firelance volley from the Rangers ripped into the infantry formation at about seventy yards. It was far more deadly than the first, and opened holes in their lines large enough for carts to pass through. Yet still they came on.
But now, they had been whittled down enough for another move.
"Charge," I ordered, getting to my feet.
The chevaliers joined our firelancers' line, and we all ran at the enemy. Up went the rebel yell, filling the air with the chorus. The chevaliers even joined in, taken by the atmosphere of elation. Tam, Leha and Ciara drew their blades, and we charged home. The enemy still did not collapse into a rout.
Where Julie and I engaged, there was no great clash of sword and shield. We reaped with the scythe of Death herself, crippling or killing in relay, taking turns to fire. We had practised this. The occasional straggler was caught by Tam here, Ciara or Leha there, and killed with clinical precision in the peculiar ways each of them could bring. I was in my battle trance, the state of sheer concentration and bloodlust I fall into almost automatically, as you will have guessed if you have read the previous chapters. Julie was too, for the first time, I think. Tam could fall into such a state consciously.
Elsewhere, the battle was more intimate. The Rangers, having finished reloading on the advance, fired their firelances point-blank into the faces and guts of the swordsmen, before driving home with their bayonets. The chevaliers delivered the final stroke, ranging through the enemy ranks, protected by their armour and defensive skill. Pinned in place by the nobles, there was no retreat from the advance of the bayonets.
We killed them all. I don't remember after all these years if any even offered to surrender.
Next thing I know, I'm standing in the tangle of corpses, sweating like a pig. Our forces were regrouping, readying for my next move. Tam offered me a water skin, which I took with eagerness. Some of the water dripped down, and that drew my eyes to the ground.
Below me was a dead man, but something was off about him. I kicked off his helmet, he wouldn't mind, and discovered that he was a boy. Younger than Ciara without a doubt, probably about fifteen. Big for his age. A large, ragged hole from a minié in his heart, eyes looking up at the sky.
"Jesus Christ," I said, "They're putting kids on the field?"
Julie heard, and came over. Still bloodsplattered.
"Not everyone believes adulthood begins at eighteen, Sam," she said, "If you're big enough to swing a sword, you're old enough to go into battle. Many would agree."
I felt my chest tighten, not with disgust, but rage. I scanned the battle. Our entire line was in the fight now, but the rear of the enemy was completely exposed. Worse, they didn't even seem to realise it.
"Soprano, the way is clear for the Lancers," I said, "Send them in."
"Yes, my lord," she replied.
The elven colonel pulled a horn to her lips, and blew out a loud drone. The captain of the lancers blew his own horn in reply, and the cavalry began to move off towards the fight.
"We've won," said Julie, not quite believing it.
"Not yet," I replied, getting out my binoculars once more, "Almost."
A few minutes later, the lancers levelled their lances and charged. The effect was immediate. Already badly bloodied by the mages and cannons, the enemy left flank broke and ran. McNulty, Mike, Velarana and Armen, obeying the principles I had taught them and getting the general idea of what I had intended, rolled our troops leftwards like a great jaw, moving up in support of the centre rather than chasing down the fleeing troops. This no doubt saved Pierre and the rest of the Free Army from eventual defeat; they were still badly outnumbered.
I was very satisfied, and put away my binoculars with renewed hope for a crushing victory. Sure enough, more enemy companies began breaking off from the fight, albeit in more order than their comrades had, trying to escape the sprung trap.
The sound of neighing horses caught my attention. I turned, and I wasn't the only one, looking about for the source of the noise.
Out of the forests that began on the foothills, came a group of chevaliers. At their head was a large man in a yellow mask, a stylised moustache on its enamelled lip. The Rangers immediately formed a square to repel cavalry, and began reloading their firelances. Our own chevaliers rallied to Louise de Villars and I, in the middle of the square.
"They're not going to charge, are they?" I asked the Lady. There were enough horsemen to get in close before we could kill them all. In theory.
"Doubtful, their swords are sheathed, and their banners held at half-post," Louise replied, with some hesitation, "That is the Marquis DuRellion. He may be overlord of the Emprise, but he is not for Gaspard."
"So what does he want?" asked Tam, bringing her bow back over her shoulder.
"We shall see," Louise replied rudely, "Patience, Qunari."
Tam growled back an insult, and Julie shouldered her firelance. Just in case. Louise did not respond to this, to my immense gratitude. Eventually, the Marquis got close enough to talk to.
"That's far enough," shouted Soprano, "State your business or be fired upon."
"I am the Marquis DuRellion, commander of the forces of the Emprise and Royal Governor," he said, "I come to negotiate my surrender."
The colonel looked back at me, but I said and did nothing. I wasn't going to speak to the man while his army was still fighting. She got the picture, and turned back.
"Your army continues to fight," Soparno replied, thumbing over her shoulder at the deteriorating situation in the farmlands beyond, "Order an immediate and unconditional surrender, and you will not be harmed."
DuRellion flinched, his horse shifting its weight in response to the gesture.
"My army is not my army," he replied, "They are already retreating, to fight another day. I do not wish to continue this pointless conflict. What forces are under my control will lay down their arms, but I cannot guarantee the compliance of the other nobles."
I stepped forward, through the ranks of the Rangers. Alone. I made sure of that, waving to Julie and Tam to stay put. They could cover me from inside the infantry square anyway. I moved close enough so that shouting wasn't required to speak, so I could have a civilised conversation.
"I am the Marquis de La Fayette," I said, "Are you familiar with who I am?"
"The Outlander," DuRellion replied flatly, "Legate Tiberius in Halamshiral was very fond of talking about you and your exploits this past winter. You're from another world, if I am to believe what I am told."
I nodded. "That is true," I said, "Meaning that it would be foolish to be stubborn, considering that only the Maker could have brought me here." Nothing like a little religious blackmail.
"I will not lose my lands and titles to you," he said, "Those are my only terms."
"I refuse," I said immediately, "In a few hours, there will be no army left to defend your lands and I can take them as I please. Not for myself, of course, but to return to the people that work them. The commons, the merchants and petty nobles. The real people. There is no reason for you and your family to be put in danger, when you undoubtedly have other lands to which you can move and live comfortably. Just not in the Dales."
"And if I refuse?" DuRellion asked.
"I will do nothing to you," I said, "It is not my place... But I will turn you over to the people to judge and punish, as they see fit. I understand their opinion of fattened aristocrats has dropped lately. Who knows what they might come up with?" I had quite the self-satisfied, shit-eating grin on my face by this point, I am quite sure. Alas, I was taking a great deal of pleasure in this, even if he was a Celene loyalist.
DuRellion said nothing, his eyes moving upwards to the sky as he thought about it. I knew already that he would agree. To disagree would mean death, or throwing his lot in with Gaspard. Most likely just the latter, whether it was at that moment or weeks later when I could shatter his castles with my heavy artillery.
He drew his sabre, backwards with the blade down, and threw it at my feet. His chevaliers did the same in turn, followed by their longswords and daggers.
"I accept your surrender," I said.
Victory and Sahrnia were ours.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, Sam pulled a Stonewall Jackson. Or perhaps, an Alexander.
In Defilade: I googled Eric Flint after the last chapter. The 1632 series is what you were referring to, yes? I had not read or even heard of it until you mentioned it, but I have now read through 1632 and 1633, and I'm half way through 1634: the Ram Rebellion. Very interesting perspective.
Though, and this may seem very ironic considering the above chapter ended the way it did, Flint's work seems very... optimistic. Admittedly, Grantville had much more to work with than Sam did. Doesn't surprise me that others have explored similar contexts, though the presence of magic in Thedas makes certain things easier for Sam.
Drgyen: The Qunari leader here is *a* Viddasala, but not the same one from Trespasser, though yes, that will be a different tale entirely due to Sam's arrival. And of course Sam will meet Bull again.
Lord Mortem: Cheers!
5 Coloured Walker: The lack of errors makes you think it's a callback to what other errors? Errors in other people's works or in my other chapters! There's no shortage of either.