Chapter Thirty: Mir Da'len Somniar

Elgara vallas, da'len - Sun sets, little one,
Melava somniar - Time to dream
Mala tara aravas - Your mind journeys,
Ara ma'desen melar - But I will hold you here

Iras ma ghilas, da'len - Where will you go, little one
Ara ma'nedan ashir - Lost to me in sleep?
Dirthara lothlenan'as - Seek truth in a forgotten land
Bal emma mala dir - Deep with in your heart

Tel'enfenim, da'len - Never fear, little one,
Irassal ma ghilas - Wherever you shall go
Ma garas mir renan - Follow my voice
Ara ma'athlan vhenas - I will call you home
Ara ma'athlan vhenas - I will call you home

Mir Da'len Somniar is a Dalish lullaby, sung to infants who wake in the night with terrors or nightmares. It refers heavily to the Fade, to the ancient civilisation of the elves, and to the fact that one can get lost in dreams. It is a song for mothers and fathers to their children, to exhort them to sleep and visit what once was, yet not fall prey to the deadly perils in the dreamworld. It is one of the most beautiful songs I have ever had the experience of listening to, and once I knew I would have children of my own, I was eager to learn it for myself. Terrible accent and all. Ciara was happy to oblige.

I start this chapter with its words because the events I am about to recount fill me with burning, all-consuming hatred so deep that it made me abandon my principles for a time. I start this chapter in this way because the memory of this song is the only remedy for these other memories.

Many positive things have been said about the goals of the Peacekeepers under my direction. The number of people we have saved from death, exploitation and tyranny is certainly not small. However, much has also been said about the ruthlessness with which we pursue our objectives, disregarding all tradition and precedent, ploughing through all resistance towards our greater purpose. The events I intend to put to paper here are the reason for that ruthlessness. They expose such accusations for what they are; base hypocrisy of the worst kind. Everyone else merely couches their breaches of civilised conduct in fine words. We do not waste words.

It is perhaps my greatest regret in life that we still have no idea as to who the instigators were.

The events happened too quickly after the Convention to have been a direct response to its declaration of war, as far as we can tell, and yet to have set them into motion before that decision would have been utterly bizarre. The only person we know for sure that did not order it is Gaspard, bizarrely, for while he was the only one with an absolute motivation against us, his chevalier honour would have been greatly threatened by such actions. He was well known to execute followers who failed in such standards as well.

I fear I shall die not knowing who was responsible.

July was filled with war preparations of every kind.

Preparing supplies, seeing to the repair and upgrading of roads northwards, eastwards and southwards, drilling new soldiers, organising the new logistics corps, and coordinating with Leha for intelligence gathering. It was absolutely exhausting. Twelve to sixteen hour days. Mountains of paperwork, facilitated by our new bureaucracy but absolutely tedious as computers did not exist. They barely exist today.

Ciara was given the task of rallying the people and the new assembly to the cause. She was the most insistent on war, so she was damn well going to make sure we had the resources to win. She wielded the threats of censure and expropriation like daggers, tearing into opponents. Commoners who refused to vote for the raising of workers or the establishment of militias, merchants who refused to convey key materials at a fair price, nobles who refused to pay taxes, all found themselves at the sharp end. She even managed to get the 'Elfsblood' River renamed to 'Suledin' after the peak and lake it was sourced from.

Julie concentrated most of her time on one thing; weapons. While she read reports and fielded questions as High Chancellor, she did so by the forge, laboratory or the chemical factory. Almost every blacksmith and carpenter in the Emprise was moved to Hearth, if they hadn't moved to get a taste of our new found wealth already. Tam and Armen were brought in to help. Tam to inform her about Qunari ideas with blackpowder weapons. Their concepts were inferior, but easier to make. Armen was involved to assist production with magic, coordinating with the Lucrosians.

Julie's genius did not disappoint. With no small amount of difficulty, she created exactly what we needed. Explosive shot for the cannons, enough firelances for half the army, and her latest Earth-inspired first-on-Thedas invention; the rocket. You see, we had a particular problem; a lack of trained artillery troops with no time to train them. Only the Tranquil had the skills required, and we only had a couple of hundred of them. So, Julie came up with a solution that required far less skill, both to build and to use; rockets. They're less accurate, and not much use against castles, but you can fire hundreds of them with very little training and completely carpet a piece of land. Katyusha would sing in Orlais.

I have often wondered if it was this last innovation that sparked the tragedy to come.

It was August by then, the day of the last test of the rockets, the day when we would finally fire an entire rack of them in sequence. The patch of forest we had used for testing all our weapons was no longer much of a forest at all. We had turned it into a hellscape of broken tree trunks and scorched earth. Both people and animals knew very well to stay away.

Julie, covered in black dirt and soot in her smith's overalls, triggered a primitive electrical circuit. Half the army watched as twenty four rockets moaned off the guide rails attached to a cart, two at a time, launching themselves into the sky from beside our château. Their orange flames spouted gouts of white smoke behind them. The warheads impacted a mile and a half away, sending flashes of light and sonic booms back to us. A mile and a half wasn't even close to the maximum range, but it was about as far as you could aim accurately. The things worked great, though their explosives were less impressive than what we'd have later.

The soldiers didn't cheer or shout, they just stood by stunned. I guess they understood what it would be like to have to face such a weapon. This is why I think whoever made the decision to strike must have been in Hearth itself, with orders to wait unless developments moved forwards. The huge rocket test, visible from the walls of the town and much of the surrounding territory, would certainly have represented something to be acted on.

After the display, Julie simply sighed. No triumphant declarations this time. Just fatigue. We returned to the château, speaking about what to do next and how close we were to being ready. I reckoned we should give it two weeks. Leha's contacts were reporting troop movements in the Heartlands towards Val Royeaux. The Empress was on the move. Julie thought we were ready as we were going to be. She still didn't want the war, but since everyone else did, she wanted to start it immediately. It turned into a disagreement, albeit a brief one.

In the end, we didn't settle the matter. Julie had other things to do. She washed the caked dirt off of herself, dressed in a comfortable and respectable dress, and took the first time off she had in a month. She was bound for the Baron's palace. Élodie and Claire had been invited for dinner by Pierre. He knew she had been pushing herself too hard, and she deserved a meal that didn't consist of a piece of cold meat on top of a piece of bread. It didn't stop me from being insanely jealous, a feeling I would be beating myself up for in later weeks.

I wasn't done for the day, unfortunately.

At about six in the evening, summer rain began slapping down onto the ground outside my window, soaking into the closest thing to a mosquito net that I could find. The former bedroom turned office filled with the scent of damp and the sounds of people rushing through puddles to get under cover. The downpour would likely continue the next day, I thought, and I came to the decision that drilling would be suspended for the soldiers. They had already had two weeks leave, but tensions were mounting all the same. Rumours of the troop movements swirled about.

On the bright side, the summer heat broke almost instantly, allowing me to work.

With me were Ciara and Louise, dressed in their usual outfits of Dalish hunting gear and light chevalier armour respectively. Our vice-chancellor had come over in her duty to irritate me with requests, and Blondie had pretty much become my personal adjutant as much as a bodyguard, though she took the armoured mask act a little seriously. Both were drinking coffee out of small metal cups, though the latter held her cup with her off-hand rather than her sword-hand. Ciara and I were sitting down in the leather seats that we seemed to have stacks of, while Louise hovered within sword's reach.

The start of the conversation I don't quite recall now, but it was on the subject that seemed to be on everyone's mind.

"I know it takes time," Ciara said, conceding something about the army, "Halamshiral can only wait so long. We managed to calm everyone down with the promise that we'd be marching to free them, what do you think will happen if we don't? They'll rise up."

She made a convincing argument, and along with Julie's own wish to rush, I found myself moving away from my former position. I smiled back at the capable young woman in front of me. "You've come a long way," I said, leaning back, "From dock server to a leader of the Dales in one year. It seems politics is a growth industry, these days."

"I was a Dalish hunter before that," Ciara replied, before sipping her coffee again, "Though I was not of age, so I never received my vallaslin."

I raised an eyebrow, not familiar with the term.

"The tattoos," Louise supplied, "The Dalish typically have tattoos on their face." Ciara was quite literally the only Dalish elf I had ever met. I never had any reason to inquire into the customs of the Dalish clans. They kept away from 'human' settlement for the most part, especially in our part of the Dales. Needless to say, I was suddenly interested.

"Like the Maori," I mused, my eyes turning to the ceiling, "I knew an operator from New Zealand, looked like he had a whole story tattooed on his face. Scary son of a bitch even without it."

I returned my attention to the two women with me, to discover blank looks of ignorance.

"Sorry, I really have to stop doing that," I chuckled, "After all this time, I must miss Earth more than I am aware of." The anniversary of my arrival seemed to have made me talk a great deal more on the subject.

"Don't," Ciara replied, "I like hearing about your home. It always sounds like it is full of wonders and impossibilities, even the terrible things. You haven't talked about it much until recently."

"Wonders like nuclear weapons and ice cream," I nodded, "Tam is a fan of both." Ciara inclined her head knowingly, well aware of how badly my Qunari lover had once wanted to escape this world.

"I am sure one day we will have both, my lord," Louise said, "What I have seen in the past months has overcome the entirety of the rest of my life's experience. That the common people could create such things has... shaken my beliefs."

Best pray that we don't need nuclear weapons, I thought to myself, almost shuddering at the mental image of medieval cities turned to ashes in a single instant. On the other hand, imagining a Blight-spreading darkspawn army going up in a mushroom cloud was an encouraging thought. Humanity's relationship with weaponry in a nutshell, I guess.

"Colonel Soprano is fond of mentioning your comments about elves," Ciara said to Louise, half-growling.

"Colonel Soprano is fond of doing all she can to undermine my authority," Louise replied, remaining calm, "I would recommend her immediate removal, were she less courageous. She was a criminal before the Marquis lifted her up, as far as I understand it."

The argument brewing was getting off the point. "Talent comes from many places," I said with finality, "I think everyone in this room knows that now." Leaving the comment about it not being the exclusive reserve of pampered nobles or hidden amongst commoners out, for diplomacy's sake.

That put a stop to the storm on the horizon.

"The Assembly wants to know when we will march. Not next week, not next month, but tomorrow," Ciara repeated, quoting what she had been told to say to me at this point in the conversation, "If you don't have an answer I can give them, then they'll vote to..."

The words after that were drowned out.

The floor and walls shook slightly as a muffled boom rippled through the air, causing some dust to fall from the roof supports onto my head. There weren't any tests scheduled for that day, so it could have been only one thing. I stood up, brushing the grey dirt off myself, and ran through the door connecting to my bedroom. The other two followed.

"What was that?" Louise asked, from the doorway.

"Arm yourselves," I replied, dragging the familiar green metal box from underneath my bed. I didn't know how much time I had. The sounds of shouting in the courtyard and from the parade grounds grew. Ciara pulled her straight dagger out from the sheath on the small of her back. Louise's longsword made its own appearance with an elegant wave. Happy to see that neither seemed all that worried, it rallied my own nerves a little as I put on my body armour, retrieved my firelance and loaded a magazine into it.

"Follow me," I ordered.

I went back into the office and out into the corridor, towards the spiral staircase at the corner of the building. The garden courtyard was visibly filling up with soldiers, I noted. Mike was directing them to seal the place off. I didn't have my earpiece at the time, and her professionalism was a good note.

"Where are we going?" Ciara asked.

"The north-east basement," I replied, stopping to look down into the space. There was a lot of dust thrown up that hadn't settled, but no movement in the candlelight down there. I breathed easier.

"But that's where the..." Ciara started, turning paler.

"Where the Earth weapons are, I know," I said, "That's why I left a little surprise for anyone going down there without permission." A small pallet of plastic explosives sandwiched between a metal plate and a box filled to bursting with nails, scrap iron and musket balls, to be exact. It was well signposted to avoid the basement entirely, in pictographs as well as dwarven and Latin scripts. Only an outsider would have disregarded the threat, or believed themselves good enough to avoid any traps. Perhaps if the technology I had used was medieval, they might have. Hard to spot and avoid a pressure plate when it's electronic.

I led the way down the stairs. I checked the door to the courtyard and found that it was unlocked. It should not have been. I continued downwards, firelance raised, until reaching the darkness of the basement itself. The stout columns and The dust was about, hovering just above the ground. The smell of alcohol was overpowering.

"Well, shit," I said to myself, "There goes the wine. I guess wiring the cage up to blow without padding them out was a bad idea." I thought I was only dealing with dead thieves.

The bodies of three men were lying in the pools of reds and white, adding their own crimson blood to the wet mess. Beyond them, the metal bars of the cage were still intact, though the metal plate that had held the trap was twisted out of shape. I went over to the nearest corpse, rolled him over and shined a flashlight on him. He had been at the back, so his tanned face and brown hair were still intact, but the rest of him was riddled with holes. It looked like he had managed to crawl a little before expiring.

"Don't suppose either of you can tell me where he's from?" I asked, turning to my companions. Ciara had her hand over her mouth and face to protect from the smell, while Louise's mask looked on without emotion.

"Based on the skin colour, he's probably from further north," Louise said unwaveringly, "Tevinter, Antiva, maybe the Anderfels. His clothes are poor, but his shoes are expensive, so he couldn't just be tanned from working in a field. This is no peasant." She leaned down and pulled up the man's hand, revealing an uncalloused hand with gaudy gold and silver rings. I noticed small gold studs in the thief's ears too.

So, not an opportunist then. I rifled through his pockets for any clues as to who sent him. I found a dagger akin to hundreds of thousands used in Orlais, a blood-soaked hand drawn map of the château, and a piece of paper with 'sunset at the docks' written on it.

"We're going to have to do a little ambush down at the dockyards," I said, handing the map and note to Ciara, "They had a map of the building, and I want to know who gave them that information."

"We'll catch them and make your displeasure apparent, my lord," Louise promised, sheathing her sword, "Are the weapons unharmed?"

I hadn't worried about that before, as the containers holding the ammunition for my Earth weapons and the remaining weapons themselves were designed to resist great shocks. I had a look now regardless. The floor of the cage was a sea of jagged green glass and spilled wine, but the stacked green cases at the back were entirely unharmed, not a dent on them and still in the exact place I last left them. I remember being relieved that a good number of wine bottles had also made it.

"Buona sera," said a pair of delicate voices from behind, in an accent that I would have called Italian or Spanish. Treviso-Antivan to anyone else. One was male, one was female.

I spun around to view the speaker.

A hooded figure was charging, axe raised. Ciara had turned too, dagger at the ready, but it was too late. The axe bit deep into her shoulder and chest, checked only by her collarbone. She collapsed, the dagger flying out of her hand. Blood pouring out of the wound.

"CIARA!" I shouted. I felt a force slam into the engraved steel plate on the front of my armour, hitting the eagle motif in the head. I looked down to see that a crossbow bolt had sprouted, and back up again. The bolt had come from a nearly identical hooded figure, standing at the bottom of the staircase with her weapon, reloading it.

Louise wordlessly took out her sword once more, and stepped to the attack. The axe-wielding assassin didn't flinch, and pulled a small messer out. They began trading blows in the middle of the space, blocking my line of fire. Blade met blade, the sound louder due to the thick stone walls, their breaths of exertion amplified. The chevalier was going all out, buying me time.

Not wanting to waste that gift, I went to Ciara and began applying pressure to the wound. She was barely conscious. I stripped off her top half, and began to panic. The cut was deep, and had barely missed her neck. I restored my resolve with the realisation that a mage could save her easily, if I could only keep her alive for the next few minutes. She screamed with pain as I attempted to bandage her with a strip of her own tunic. I comforted her as best I could, before she passed out. I tightened the makeshift bandage and stood up, pissed off that was all I could do for her.

Another bolt pinged off the rock beside my head. The shooter ducked behind the doorway again, as Louise and the axeman whirled back into the way. The former deflected yet another blow, and took a mighty swing that the latter barely dodged. "Cazzo cavaliere!" he cried, avoiding decapitation, "Mi aiuti!"

"Basta!"

The shooter poked her head out and took aim at Louise. The axeman swung wildly to buy space, before leaping away towards the doorway again.

My jaw clenched with rage, and I saw my chance. I opened up on the guy with my firelance. Full automatic, emptying the magazine of its thirty bullets and hosing the space between where he had been standing and the stairs. At least three of the bullets struck home, and he dropped his axe, but it didn't stop his movement. He ran like a man possessed up the stairwell, followed by his accomplice. Louise was forced to duck away as a parting bolt thrummed through the air at her. Suppression to retreat, I said in my head. They were fucking good at this.

"Go, stop them!" I said to Louise, "Send down a mage!"

The chevalier's mask nodded, and the woman behind it began taking the stairs three at a time. The sounds of gunfire began seeping down from the open door above.

I cradled Ciara's unconscious form, my hands covered with her blood, until a group of mages led by the healer Markham made an appearance. They had a stretcher. He pried me off of her with some difficulty, and began healing her. I hovered, watching as they stabilised her. Something our chief medical officer was not pleased with.

"Go," Markham commanded, "I know you will want to stay, but you must go." His tone was not that of anger or disdain, the voice he usually used when talking to me. It was a warning.

At first, I didn't understand, but it dawned on me. I rushed up the stairs and out into the courtyard. I found Tam and Louise standing over a corpse. The axeman, if I was any judge, covered in gaping red wounds as well as a black-feathered arrow.

"I'm sorry, my lord," Louise said, "We only managed to shoot one of them." The sentries in the watchtower still covering the space with their own firelances, the spent weapons leaning against the ledge with smoke rising from their barrels.

"Never mind that. Ciara is seriously hurt, and I don't think it's over," I said, "Get the horses. Julie and Baron des Arbes are in mortal danger."

Tam's eyes stared at me for the briefest moment, before widening in horror. She ran in the direction of the stables. I let the empty magazine out of my firelance, and put a fresh one in, praying at a whisper to the Maker and God that we would make it in time.

Tam, Louise and I rode ahead on the same route I had taken during the Grand Convention; around the town walls and through the north gate. We couldn't find Armen to bring him or tell him what had happened, and I wasn't looking forward to that moment. I gave instructions to Mike and Velarana to round up everyone on the docks and any non-Orlesians, and their regiments were already moving to surround Hearth and guard the river.

The town was as bustling and busy as you'd expect from a place throwing all its energies into manufacturing and commerce, the north gate a bottleneck for carts moving raw materials inside and waste out to the trash heaps. People coming and going waved to me, and There was no sign of distress or unrest. I began to hope. The calm continued all the way through the streets of the Nobles' quarter, all the way to the gates of the Baron's palace, all the way to the door to the Baron's residence.

The distinctive sound of Julie's handcannon informed us that she had just killed someone, and was in the process of trying to kill a good number of other people. Fear and loathing crushing my heart, I kicked the doors down viciously. I found five dead guards in the foyer, blood seeping onto the smooth black stone. They were killed with wounds to the neck and back.

"Taken by surprise," said Tam knowingly.

More gun shots rang out. I paced forwards, just barely stopping myself from rushing forwards. No need to present myself for a throat-cutting by someone hiding in a corner, like had been done to the guards. The shooting continued. I moved along the hallway, glancing into the kitchens and storage rooms, checking every space. More handcannon noise. I counted all the shots I had heard in my head. Fourteen. Julie was down to her last shot.

We climbed the servants' stairs to the next floor, and down the corridor from the reception room, past the library, to the private dining room. The painted and gilded double doors awaited. As we got closer, a new, terrible sound greeted my ears. Loud, uncontrolled sobbing. I couldn't take it any more. I abandoned all pretence of clearing the place room by room, and ran forwards, shouldering the doors open. The sight that filled my eyes... The dying light of the day came in through the western windows, revealing the fine tapestries and statues of former lords. There was no darkness to hide the details or leave any doubts.

The dining room was a picture of butchery.

Almost a dozen corpses lay scattered around the space. Most were dressed as servants, though the presence of bloody daggers and knives by their sides and in their palms betrayed their true identities. Almost all were elves, which I found utterly bizarre. The cause of death was universal; gunshot wound. The reason why they had died that way was apparent.

Pierre and Cécile des Arbes lay on the ground beside one another, smashed plates at their feet by the round dining table. Their masks had been removed, revealing Pierre's grey eyes and Cécile's brown. Their throats had been cut, and each sported a wound on their chest through their hearts. Their hands and faces were bloodied. They weren't moving.

Neither were Leodor or Élodie. The loyal husband's arms and hands were sliced to pieces, defensive wounds. He had tried to defend the mother of his children. The deadly blow had been delivered into his temple, a bloody gash at the side of his forehead. Claire was still alive, but shaking wildly as she embraced the dead body of Élodie. I couldn't see the young mother's wounds then, but she had died of shock from multiple stab wounds to the chest and belly.

All this was nothing.

Julie sat on the floor, covered in blood and sporting defensive cuts to her arms too. She wept and sobbed, for in her arms were Antoine and Océane. Their eyes closed for the last time, their bodies still. Even with red blooms on their chests, soaking their silken clothes, they still looked perfect, like they might wake up again if you just shook them a little. Like Antoine would get up and say something commanding like his father. Like Océane would demand another picture of herself as a chevalier, dreaming of future glory.

But I knew they would never wake again. Julie's weeping told me that.

I dropped my firelance.

Pierre, Cécile, Antoine and Océane des Arbes; Baron, Baroness and heirs of Hearth, murdered by assassins dressed as servants using knives and daggers.

Camille Doucy and her three children, locked in their carriage three miles outside of their keep at Vindargent and burned alive.

Maurice de Villars, ambushed on the road in the company of his personal guard, died by an arrow through the heart, though he probably would have died of the wounds caused by the three other arrows.

That same day, all over the Dales, the nobles who had backed the revolution either died or endured very determined assassination attempts.

Of the other nobles that had been present to form the original alliance and create the Proclamation from the Dales, only Henri Clouet and Louise de Villars were alive. Some were brutally cut down, some had 'accidents'. Most died of poisonings. Clouet himself lost his capable and handsome second son to a poisoned cup of wine, only surviving as the young man had drank to a toast to the success of the war while he had not. The assassins were not found. Louise lost her uncle, more of a father really, and the revolution lost its most ardent noble supporter.

There were many less famous victims of this atrocity. Élodie and Leodor were far from alone. Relatives and friends of those intended to be killed fell victim too; poisoned, stabbed, bludgeoned. Maurice de Villars' guards died in combat. Servants to be replaced had been killed mercilessly too, their bodies disposed of in the most callous and convenient manners possible. We found no less than seven dead serving girls in the waste wagon of the Baron's palace. Similarly grizzly discoveries were made on the estates of many of our noble supporters.

Whoever had planned it all had aimed to destroy the unity of our movement in one fell stroke, believing that without the nobles to fund the cause and supply the bulk of professional fighters, we would be helpless, directionless, and weak. As you can probably guess, the Antivan Crows had done most of the work, though the House of Repose was also involved. We would get our revenge on both organisations in time.

My foresight in having Mike and Velarana close off the town and raid the docks provided some comfort. We didn't find the second hooded assassin, but we did catch three Antivans without good alibis. Including one elf who had one of Julie's 9mm bullets lodged in her arm. Not like you find a bullet from Earth inside of just anyone walking around. That was evidence enough for me. I organised a firing squad that night and had fifty of Soprano's Rangers shoot the bitch to pieces, and fed the pieces to the pigs. The other two would eventually be put on trial, and would hang some weeks later. Mercy was on no one's mind.

Another comfort was Ciara. Markham saved her life, and she was on the way back to her old self in very little time. Armen had been on a teaching exercise with some of the Libertarian apprentices, and was both horrified to hear what had happened and hugely grateful to Markham. The mage asked me to knight the healer. That gave me an idea. Tobias Markham became Ser Tobias Markham, Master of the Knights Hospitaller. Charged with the defence of the wounded and the creation of places of healing. I presented him with a banner of black with a white cross on it some weeks later, and assigned a small number of soldiers from each of our regiments to serve under him. Of all the things I did in the aftermath of this tragedy, I can be proud of only that.

Julie and Claire were a different story.

Tam and I took turns to be with Julie until the funeral five days afterwards, refusing to leave her alone. She wavered between white hot rage and quiet weeping. It took both of us to convince her to let Markham heal the gashes on her arms. She would smash things and pace about screaming curses, or huddle on our bed with her face in her hands. The only time this would stop for more than an hour was when she visited Claire.

The youngest Marteau sister was far more composed, but the reason for that was her new responsibility. Julie could not raise Élodie's infant children. The assassination attempts had made it plain that both Julie and I were targets. Claire made it perfectly clear that she would not accept Julie playing a direct role in the lives of Victoire and Patrice. Visits were to be in the company of a full platoon of McNulty's Grenadiers. Julie understood, accepting the distance required to keep them all safe while she fought the war. She cried hardest after returning from hearing that. As you can imagine, Tam and I were very worried she would harm herself. Leha's brief presences were the only respite we got, as Julie seemed to rally when the dwarf came calling. A groundless worry, but we held her close all the same.

In truth however, it was our enemies who needed to worry now. They had failed.

The mass funeral was held in a large field to the north west of Hearth in the early morning. Our parade ground was large enough, but it was full of carts and horses. The space to hold the huge numbers people whom had come to pay their respects was taken up by the preparations of the war. If I had to put a number on how many had come, I would have to say that there were a hundred thousand at least.

All the victims were brought together to go to the next life as equals. No distinctions of class or race were made, they were arranged in a great circle of pyres. Only Antoine and Océane were honoured more greatly, but only as they were children. Their pyres stood in the middle.

Julie, Ciara and I stood on a platform, Tam and Leha were in front of us, swords out. Alongside us were two groups. Louise, now wearing her uncle's skull shaped mask, led the other colonels; Armen, Mike, Soprano, McNulty and Velarana. Grand-Cleric Brandon was at the very edge of the platform, accompanied by Knight-Commander Barris. She would be the one to put into words our grief and rage. Julie and I had refused, and Ciara could not raise her voice yet.

The cleric stood up before the pyres were lit, and led the faithful in the customary chant. For the first time, I participated, Lana's lessons having done their work. After that was done, Brandon took the hat off her office off of her head, unfastened the jewellery associated with her office and let it fall to the ground.

She began projecting her voice.

"Children of the Maker, citizens of Free Orlais, today we send the innocent to join Him, in Andraste's Light.

Innocents taken from us by thieves in the dark, cowards who would not face the light openly, but used gold to buy the deaths of their enemies. Long has this plagued our country. Dishonesty, avarice, pride, envy and sloth, these are what have ruled our people. The call to exorcise these demons, to revolt against those who welcome them, was answered by all good men and women throughout this land. Free Orlais has grown strong and fearless!"

There was silence. Brandon's voice grew angry. It was entirely genuine to my ear. Not the posturing of a preacher looking for power, but the voice of someone who had seen the intolerable.

"And what has been our reward!

Murders so foul that we cannot think without inviting them into our dreams! The slaughter of children! Nobles and commoners alike killed in ways that no person should be! Killed at their tables, killed on the road, killed in their homes, killed in their beds, killed even under the Maker's roof in their chantries! Throats cut, cups poisoned, carriages set ablaze, arrows loosed. Madness unleashed!"

There was a roar of rage from the crowd.

"And even now, others plot to kill us. To the north, our brothers and sisters are killed in the streets for their beliefs, for their thirst for liberty. These pious souls have no protection from the thugs and murderers sent to destroy them. Still further, we have friends and family in every city and region of Orlais, and in every place, dark forces move to crush their spirit."

Movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention. A large number of clerics and pages were moving to the pyres from the edge of the crowd. I squinted to see what they were doing, and found that they were carrying banners. Not ours, there was no red or white on them, but purple and blue ones. I frowned, wondering what the hell they were up to at such a time.

"Where have the leaders of our Empire been while this happens? What have Celene and Gaspard done to protect us?!

Nothing, and perhaps worse! We still do not know who is responsible for murdering our honoured dead, but it is certain that neither the Empress or the Grand-Duke are friends of ours! Neither has stirred one inch to support us! Neither has declared themselves for liberty and justice in the face of corruption! Both are guilty through apathy! The Maker made them our rulers to protect us, and they have failed!"

The clerics began lighting the pyres, and unravelling the banners. I recognised them at once. The golden face on a purple background, and the golden lion on blue. The sigil of the Valmonts, and the symbol of the Empire. The pyres began burning very brightly.

"We shall burn away the corruption, we shall defeat ALL those who stand in our way!"

I watched as the bodies began to be consumed, only to find that the clerics and pages were tossing the banners into the flames too. I stood stunned as the fire licked and ate the cloth, consuming the golden faces and lions, turning them black and then into nothing.

I glanced at Julie, to see if she had an explanation.

I found her face blank, but her eyes as deeply ablaze as the pyres. She had ordered the royal banners burned, I realised. I looked away to find Tam, Ciara and Armen staring at me, wondering if I had known. Only Leha continued looking at the flames, and I knew from her face how the arrangements had been made.

Mother Brandon delivered the fateful conclusion.

"This land has no rightful Empress, no rightful Emperor! Only government of the people, by the people, for the people! One Nation under the Maker!"

The crowd rumbled their assent wildly, crying and wailing their grief and shouting for vengeance and justice. Elves and humans alike, united.

"Liberty or Death!" Brandon finished. The crowd screamed the words back as one, chanting it. Julie joined in. So did Ciara. So did Tam. So did Armen. The words graced even Leha's lips.

I found myself screaming it too.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The lullaby at the start of this chapter actually exists as a song, made by a Youtuber named totalspiffage under the same name.

I had to get this chapter out of my head, so I stayed up all night and wrote it up earlier than I planned to. It's a particularly important domino to fall, and leaving it stand in my mind was entirely unsatisfactory.

Katkiller-V: In the words of Omar; "Oh, Indeed"

Drgyen: You could say that. You're right about one part of that.

5 Coloured Walker: Dante's only just started walking.