Chapter Thirty-Four: Dixie
Napoléon Bonaparte, whose name I briefly borrowed, was a very wise man. On the back of his military and political genius, he rose from a minor noble of a conquered province who could barely afford decent clothing to Emperor. In the space of a decade or so. If Julie ever had a kindred spirit on Earth, Napoléon was it, and she was well aware of it. She possesses the same genius coupled with a thirst for power that was impossible to slake, yet the high regard for liberal ideals too. She would face many of the same problems, but as a result of my military efforts and Tam's constant support, the now-famous events of the first half of the Dragon Age did not break her.
Regardless, the man's relevance to events at Lydes is in one piece of wisdom he once wrote.
"You must not fight too often with one enemy, or you will teach him all your art of war."
This is true in every era, on every continent, on any particular world.
By the time we marched on Lydes, I had fought Orlesian forces many times. Against White Mask and his tax-robbing gang, against the barons of the Emprise at Sahrnia, against the keeps and castles of the same region that refused to surrender, and finally against the chevaliers outside Halamshiral. There was no shortage of survivors of these battles, not all of them were captured, and even those that did fall into our hands were released more often than not.
To be brief, the method by which I waged war was now within the realm of knowledge, even if it was very hard information to obtain, requiring a great amount of effort to collate. It would take a man obsessed to pursue that knowledge, with a rich and powerful patron to provide the manpower and coin necessary.
Just such a man existed and he had a few ideas of his own.
The Peacekeepers went out ahead just after sunrise, the day after Tiberius' arrival.
I took my first steps on the Imperial Highway in the orange glow of morning. Got to hand it to Tevinter, they know how to build a freeway. On Earth, you could have driven four trucks down its flat, light-grey Orlesian sections side-by-side, no problem. Unlike in Ferelden, the highway was well maintained too, at least on land. The bridges across the Waking Sea were simply impossible to keep in shape without magic. It remains a marvel of engineering, even if it has been overshadowed by technological developments.
Even by foot, Lydes is less than a day's march from Halamshiral on the highway. Mounted units can make it there in six hours if need be, and needs did indeed be. The Army would make the journey in three parts.
The Peacekeepers, now including the Knights-Hospitaller and the Tevinter battlemages, were first under my command. I wanted to make sure that Tiberius was right, avoid battle if his numbers were too optimistic and exploit the royalists' weakness if they were
The other eight thousand or so soldiers that had made up the original part of the Free Army were second, leaving only two hours after we did. Like the Peacekeepers, they were mounted on ponies and hobby-horses, so they could move just as fast as we could. Soprano would command this part.
The rest would leave by foot at the same time as Soprano's people, under Velarana and Mike's command. These would arrive by sunset, Aside from the ten thousand foot soldiers I had recruited from the Hearthlands, we had another fifteen thousand volunteers from the Crownlands. They were peasants and city-dwellers; eager, zealous, but entirely untested.
By my standards, the volunteers were a rabble, albeit a well-armed one given our extensive stocks of captured weapons. With the Imperial Highway, there would be no trouble supplying them either. I wanted to leave them behind, but they insisted. I could not have stopped them coming unless I had started shooting them, so I gave them their chainmail, shields and swords. The enemy didn't have many soldiers more professional than they were. Indeed, the first reports of impressments of peasants on the Exalted Plains reached me on the same day we left.
I rode at the front of the column myself, save for Major Isewen's Lancers who were all ahead scouting, not just on the Highway but in the countryside around it. It sounded like I was being followed by some sort of giant centipede, the rumbling of hooves and horseshoes on the raised highway moving up just behind. It veiled the conversations being had among my companions in a fugue of noise.
Everyone else except McNulty stayed there. I must have looked like a cemetery statue or some shit, because he rode up, a polite smile poking out from his face under a round stahlhelm. The sort you have when you're about to say something you think is funny to cheer someone up.
"I hear there shall be wedding bells ringing soon?" he asked, "Gladiatorial combat, followed by the vows?"
"Huh?" I was at a loss.
"Le mec de Tevinter," McNulty explained, "I caught a glimpse of that portrait when you came back to the palace."
I groaned. The knowledge that Tiberius had made the offer of alliance by marriage was strictly kept to my immediate... family. I warned McNulty with my eyes, narrowing them and turning myself around fully in the saddle. He got the message, but that just got him laughing.
"Don't fret, no one else knows," he assured, "No one else saw the portrait, as far as I know, and only I would understand what it was for."
"That doesn't make me feel any better," I frowned, "I hope you get that she isn't that young any more." The thing I didn't need circulating was that I was considering dumping Julie for a well connected teenager. I get the feeling that a black-fletched arrow would find my back very quickly if I wasn't able to stomp on that rumour.
"Ah, that is the usual ploy," McNulty stated, his tone level, "I was a guard for a noble family once, about nine years ago. Their son was due to marry some other high aristo. We were about the same age and he was a complete scoundrel, so we got along."
He paused for a moment, the days coming back to him with a grin. That got me wondering why he was thinking on them so fondly, but I was soon kicking myself for being such an idiot. The man was Orlesian. Many Orlesians do not have a preference for gender, and dalliances are practically expected.
Which does beg the question of why Julie didn't stray. I'd like to think it was because I terrified the hell out of any would-be lover, but Tam was the more likely reason. She wasn't into the straying, a supreme irony. God Bless Tam.
McNulty continued, his grin dying.
"But the mother's head nearly flew off when she met the bride-to-be for the first time. The portrait sent over was from when the daughter was younger, and she had grown up to be far less the beauté that the painting had shown. She had this wide mouth with cheek lines, see, made the poor woman look a little like a bulldog. Only a little. I still would have, but the dear Countess was distraught that her grandchildren would be ugly. The son said he would stand by the proposal, mostly because the strength of the family would be much increased."
Another pause, shorter and completely lacking the nostalgic happiness of the first.
"The Countess blamed me for poisoning her son's mind. Apparently some maid had overheard me saying to her son that it was a ridiculous idea to drop the marriage, both for politics and because the girl wasn't really ugly at all. There was a suggestion made that I had said so to make the son unhappy in his match, and that I'd exploit that for my own pleasure and wealth."
The large man let out a mighty sigh.
"So I lost my job and a friend," he said at last, "Never heard from the son again, never learned if he did marry that girl. They lived up in Montfort. I came all the way south to the Dales, no shortage of work for a brawler here. Ended up fighting in the barons' little war three years ago, stayed ever since."
I had drank with this man on many occasions. In fact, McNulty, Armen, Soprano, Mike and I had become something of a professional vodka drinking team over the past few months. Occasionally barged in on by Leha. Not something reflected in this account, as nothing of importance ever happened then. So, the big man putting this on the table was quite a thing.
"That is a fucking terrible story, McNulty," I said, "Truly."
"Just wanted you to know how nobles do, since you don't have them back home," McNulty replied, "Bet the jester-looking Vint even told you it was the only portrait of her they could get. That's another trick."
I frowned. Tiberius had used the line, but I also still believed him when he said it. He had tripped over himself to point out his granddaughter's virtues after letting it slip that she was wilful. Now I found myself distrusting his words even more than I had. He was certainly intelligent enough to come up with an act like that. The difference between how much Aurelia must have known about me and how much I really knew about her was jarring, and I began to hope that we would never meet. I would be at a complete disadvantage.
"There are more terrible stories nearby too," McNulty said, with a glance to the rear, "That elf that came in with the magisters, for instance."
"Oh?" I said, only half listening. Still trying to get a handle on Tiberius' ploys.
"The Empress' lover," McNulty said, eyes raised to the heavens, "Imagine loving the most powerful woman in the world, as an elf."
I turned my hand over in inquiry and confusion. What are you saying, was what I was trying to convey.
"She tried to convince the Empress to help her people, she must have," McNulty continued, "Celene had a reputation as an elf-lover for years before this. Could you ignore the Marquise if she asked you to do something in bed?"
I recalled some of the conversations about the future I had with both Julie and Tam, in the dazed, sweaty state that you're in after making love. A smirk spread my lips, and McNulty guffawed at it.
"That's a no," he laughed, "This Briala is in love with the Empress, and convinced her to ease off the knife-ear shit. And along we come, stirring the pot until it boils over, and Briala is betrayed as the Empress choose the Empire over her love, humanity over elves. I bet the Empress is hurting too, but that has to be nothing compared with..."
"I get it..." I interrupted, not particularly wanting to hear a sympathetic tale that was contrary to my goals. McNulty bowed his compliance with my wishes, and stayed silent.
We rode on for another hour, but my mind just wouldn't let it go.
I called the first halt on schedule, a fifteen minute break, tied up Bellona at the front of the column, and went to Briala. She wasn't far behind, so I called her and thumbed over my shoulder to show I wanted a word. Those around her, Ciara, Armen and the Dalish mage to be specific, seemed a bit bewildered, but Briala herself didn't hesitate a second to join my walk as we went further down the Highway for some privacy.
Privacy that we wouldn't have, not fully. Felassan padded after us at a respectful distance but one most definitely within earshot. Armen followed him in turn, expressionless. They were at odds, I realised, but that was something for later.
We came to a stop near the edge of the Highway, and I leaned on the low marble wall skirting the edge, looking down into the rolling farmlands and scrubs to the south.
"Your Dalish friend is protective of you," I said to Briala, hoping to break the ice, "He help you get out of Val Royeaux?"
"No, I escaped on the Tevinter's corvette," Briala responded, "Felassan went ahead to Halamshiral once we knew that the Empress felt she needed to act. I stayed to try and convince her to take the peaceful path."
I nodded and turned to Briala, inspecting her.
She had kept her gleaming silver mask, but had changed clothes. Green and brown huntress gear now covered her, almost identical in construction to Ciara's own, but in a different pattern with more sturdy leather.
On her back, a recurve bow made with a material I couldn't identify, and silverite daggers akin to the bayonets of my troops. Quite a rarity for weapons, and especially expensive. We had so many silverite weapons simply because every single master-smith capable of working the alloy was with us, and every single silverite mine in the Empire was under our control. We needed so much of the one waste material that silverite mining produces for black powder, that even our cannons were made of the metal as we had a huge surplus of it.
Briala could only have gotten the blades from the Empress. The reminder made me a little guilty, irrationally so to my mind. I cleared my throat before speaking.
"I need to know what happened in Val Royeaux," I said, "Celene's mindset before this all started. Can you help me with that?"
Briala stared. Wondering what sort of man I was, I suspect. I looked away.
"Certainly, though I cannot claim to know her every thought," she said slowly. I found her response less than satisfactory, rubbing my temple.
"I was under the impression you were sleeping with her," I replied, "In love with her, even. As mind-reading goes, that's as good as it gets."
"If that was true, would I be here?" said Briala, her voice rising slightly, "If I knew that the Empress might abandon my people to save her throne long before this day, do you think I would have remained with her?"
"Yes, you would have," I said without hesitation, "You loved her. You might have known the truth, but lied to yourself that it was impossible, or that you could convince her." Because that's what I would have believed, more likely than not. Most people, men or women, think themselves capable of controlling their destiny in that way. Briala's eyes went to the floor. Clearly, I had struck a nerve. Maybe she had known how far the Empress would go, deep down.
"But I'm not here to discuss the nature of people," I added, before she could formulate a coherent reply, "First question; was Celene responsible for the murders? Baron des Arbes, Baronness Doucy, Lord Clouet's second son?"
"I think not, but... the truth is that I do not know," Briala replied, "Normally, if she wanted someone dead, she would have sent me. But if desperate, it would be a move she could take. To avoid a long civil war, she would do almost anything."
"Except marry Gaspard, if Tiberius is being truthful," I said.
"Gaspard would have sidelined her, which was reason enough to reject his offer," Briala explained, "But it would also have meant losing me, which was what explanation she gave when Remaches had asked for her hand. I asked her why she didn't want to live out a life of quiet study, she said I was too important. When Gaspard's offer was made, there was still hope for a peaceful resolution too. News of your victory in the Emprise arrived days later."
"But you have no knowledge of her involvement in the assassination plot," I said, "Which means she would have had to do it behind your back. Not impossible, not even improbable. If she was playing the kindly, liberal ruler to keep you, she might have thought she would lose you over the plot too."
"She was not playing!" Briala retorted loudly, "She really believed, I know she did. Equality, progress, knowledge, she values all of these things dearly. Even your lover's ideas!"
"Now you're defending Celene," I growled back, "Make up your mind."
"You called a convention and did not invite her. Gaspard called Celene out, saying the elves were organising an independent realm," Briala spat back, "He, or someone working for him, bribed the Grande Royeaux Theater for a play. They had Andraste forget her duty in favour of lusting after Shartan, an elf, revealing our relationship! Celene quietly ordered the army to muster, to crush your Free Orlais. That's when your murders happened. It could have been Gaspard for all you know!"
"My own chevaliers tell me that isn't his style," I stated, "The man would find it crass and dishonourable. Besides, if he beats me on the field, sieges our towns and cities, he gains prestige with every victory. No, Gaspard did not do this. And it seems you can't tell me if Celene did it."
"Almost every noble above the rank of Comte wants you dead," said Briala with wave of her arm to the countryside, "True, many could not afford so many assassins, but they're as capable of conspiring with each other as you are of conspiring with the peasantry. Not to mention that the Chantry and the Qun are more than wealthy enough to have organised the assassinations too."
"It wasn't the Chantry, or at least not the Divine," I replied, "Justinia would have sent the Nightingale after me if she wanted me dead, and she wouldn't have consented to the murder of children if she wanted to topple the movement. Though her silence at the moment is deafening. The Chantry appears to be sitting this one out, letting local mothers, Circles and Templar Commanders decide their own allegiances. Something to distract everyone from the Kirkwall shit."
"That still leaves the nobles and the Qun," Briala said.
I clenched my fists, with the understanding that she was right. Celene wasn't off the suspect list, but she wasn't alone on the list either. It was utterly infuriating to have someone with the inside track right there, but not to have answers. But there was nothing I could do but continue the campaign. I relaxed again, and distracted myself by standing up a little straighter. Putting on my officer's stance.
"We will take the whole country," I declared, "In the end, it does not matter. Those behind the assassins, whoever they are, their ultimate goal has failed."
"You're... We're outnumbered, Your Excellency," Briala noted, looking out over the fields.
"On the contrary, we're quite evenly matched at the moment," I said, "Shoving spears and swords into the hands of peasants doesn't make an army, and the tensions between Celene and Gaspard have very kindly chopped that rabble up into chewable pieces for us."
For the first time, Briala smiled. "You really believe we can do it?"
"Absolutely," I said, "After all, in every region and city ahead of us, there are people waiting and watching. Elves, peasants, urban labourers, merchants, lower nobles, they all want a new Orlais, even if most of them haven't heard or read Julie's work. A quick victory at Lydes will give us reinforcements at every turn."
Briala breathed out. She undid a bow at the back of her head, and took off her mask, revealing a spray of freckles and a tumble of light brown curls, before leaning on the marble wall with her elbows. Easy to see why the Empress had been charmed. Intelligent and beautiful, a devastating combination that I knew much about. Her eyes closed in thought.
"So much to risk on a single throw of the dice," she said.
"Alea iacta est," I chuckled, "The die is cast. You've inadvertently paraphrased one of my world's greatest generals."
"Did she or he win?" Briala asked. Had to resist a cough of surprise. Women weren't generals in my world. Not even in my day, not really. Not yet.
"He won against barbarians, and when the nobles of his city wished to punish him for his success, he won against them too," I replied, "Ended up betrayed, stabbed at court by those he pardoned and even some of his own friends. This man was successful even in death. His heir proclaimed that he was a god."
The elf stood up and looked at me.
"I hope that is not where we are going, Viceroy," Briala said.
"Not if I can help it," I said, "I won't lose, and I won't be proclaimed a god either." As Andraste had, perhaps.
We said nothing for a few minutes, resting our minds after the duel of sorts that had ended on favourable terms.
"Out of curiosity, what was your general's name?" Briala asked, off the cuff.
My face curled into a smirk again. "Caesar," I said, "Julius Caesar."
Briala's eyes widened, before we both looked back at the column of soldiers and horses resting. Julie was riding back towards us, having inspected the troops, Tam riding alongside her. Looking downright regal in her Earth panoply and beret, long red-brown hair blowing to the side in the wind. Celene's lover and I glanced at each other.
"Perhaps it is a good thing that she is not a general," Briala said, not joking.
"She doesn't need to be. She has me by the balls," I said, with a great deal more mirth, "Hail Caesar, we who are about to die, salute you!" I threw a half-assed Earth-salute towards Julie in for good measure. Whipped within an inch of my life, my old buddies would have said.
Briala shot a dark look at my gallows humour, before beginning the return to her own horse. I caught up with her, using my larger legs to do so with ease. I still had a question for her.
"You said Celene believed in Julie's ideas... my world's ideas," I said, "Just how true was that?"
"She read Le Sens Commun and saw great promise in it, as a solution to the Empire's problems," Briala said, "The power of the nobles was making her rule untenable. The situation with the mages and Templars was... is slowly spinning out of control more each day. The burden of these conflicts will be carried by the ordinary subjects, so even if Celene triumphed over Gaspard, she might face uprisings and revolts."
"So she saw it as a way to maintain her power," I concluded, "I can't say that's in the spirit of what we intended."
"She saw it as a way to keep Orlais together, to make the realm strong again," Briala corrected sharply, "But you were too impatient. The war you started in the Emprise left her looking too weak to rule, or worse, like she was letting her loyalists attack her enemies for her. The high nobles pounced, and her own intervention was the only thing she thought she could do to stop the unravelling of … everything."
That was a good answer.
Having nothing else to add, I stopped by Bellona and let Briala return to her own horse, flanked by Felassan and trailed by Armen. Julie and Tam rode past them, taking notice. Revas and Fritz trotted up, their masters both looking to me.
"What was that about?" Julie asked.
"Trouble?" Tam added, with an eye towards doing something about it if that was the case.
"I was asking her about Celene, whether she had any answers about the assassinations," I replied, "Only real answer I got out of her was that it was possible, but that she didn't think so."
"She is not a reliable source," Tam said, "I would lie to protect you in an instant. It is logical to assume that the Empress' lover would too. Even if they did fall out."
"I don't know," I replied, "Seems like she's hurting, feeling betrayed. Admitting that it was within Celene's power and motivation to carry out the assassinations is damning enough, even if she doesn't go the whole way towards pointing the finger."
"It doesn't matter," Julie said firmly, "Celene, Gaspard, the Chantry, everyone who could have done it or could have known about it will pay. This Empire is ours now, it belongs to everyone who can't afford to hire the Crows or the House of Repose. We'll crush those who can."
I smiled and took her hand, planting a kiss on her palm.
"As you command," I said with theatrical flair, "Caesar."
Julie's eyebrow cocked up. She knew exactly who I was referring to, of course. I pointedly ignored her wordless inquiry as to why I was making that particular comparison, and strolled to Bellona to mount up.
The break was over. I nodded to the sergeant nearby to signal the advance once more. Shovels obliged, blowing on a horn, sending its loud drone out over the highway and farmlands both. Our soldiers began mounting up again too, the rustling and movement of leather growing.
Julie and Tam joined me at the front for the rest of the journey.
The Peacekeepers arrived within sight of the walls of Lydes in the late afternoon as planned, the city sprawling to the southwest of the Imperial Highway less than a kilometre away. The place has high walls, like Halamshiral, but most of its population lives outside of them, protected only by a palisade like the Smith Quarter in Hearth was. Surprisingly, the alienage was within the walls, I learned from the reports of elves that fled the city after an attempted purge. A couple of thousand of them were in our army, a fact that would matter far more than I thought it would.
The royalists' pickets rode off as soon as our own scouts had arrived, not even bothering to try stopping them delivering what I can only describe as a very encouraging report. I ordered the Tranquil to deploy the cannons along the length of the highway's edge, turning it into a huge battery and one well within range of the walls opposite. The ramp off the highway I had covered with pikes, and our firelancers were arranged to cover it from both sides. I had our scouts ride out again, north and west. Once I was sure we couldn't be assailed, I had a closer look at the state of things with my binos.
Like the report said, the royalist army was camped outside the walls.
The outer residences and shops had been evacuated, the citizenry brought within the walls or told to flee towards Verchiel to the west. The banners of the barons of the western Dales, the Exalted Plains and the Deauvin Flats, fluttering in the late-summer early-fall breeze.
Even better, the palisade was down in most places.
The royalists had used the material to construct a ring of small earth forts further out, topped with the wood and manned by rather confident looking crossbowmen. They stood between the city and the Imperial Highway, half way between the city walls and the raised stonework of the road. Directly between us and our objective, but that didn't matter. I had a real good chuckle at how exposed they were. I thought we had the firepower to blast them to shreds, rubble the walls and march in, no problem.
Until I spotted a work crew between two of the fortifications at the edge.
At first, I thought they were digging a latrine pit for the forts, but it didn't make sense. They were almost perfectly between the two nearest ones, and it was parallel with them, not behind them. Whatever they were doing, they were digging deep, but I couldn't see much with the binos. There was some tall grass that meant I couldn't make out the exact purpose of their work with the zoom I had. But I had a distasteful suspicion.
I went to Bellona at a run, drawing the attention of my companions, and practically ripped the precision firelance off its holster. My horse neighed its annoyance, but I slung the weapon over my shoulder and went back to my perch on the shoulder-height wall. I flipped the bipod out, and settled the weapon on the edge, sighting the work crew down the slightly more powerful telescopic sight. I heard the approach of multiple people, followed by the sensation of a hand on my shoulder. I knew who it was before she even spoke.
"What are you looking at?" Tam said.
"Hopefully, nothing important," I said, not believing that I would be that lucky.
I examined the workers. They were filthy up to the shoulders, covered in mud to their knees and dust beyond that, the latter of which was smeared on their faces where they had rubbed with their hands. That wasn't much of a clue except to tell me that they had dug at least as deep as a man or woman could stand. I swept the scope's view over the surrounding areas, looking for something else.
It took me a little while, but I found it. The grass gave it away. I noticed the grass seemed to disappear in a pattern, leaving long gaps at the top. A quick check with the eye not glued to the scope confirmed it, and picked out the pattern from one that was sickeningly familiar. Finally, I checked the theory by watching where the patterns ended in one place for a little while, and sure enough, two soldiers climbed up and out, probably to use the latrines or take a shift in the fort.
"I don't fucking believe it," I said, not moving my eye away, "Someone out there has a brain."
"What?" Julie asked.
"They've gone and dug trenches," I said, "So they can hide their soldiers from our cannons until we get too close to use them."
"All of them are in the ground, not in the town?" Leha's voice asked in surprise.
I moved my cheek off the firelance and propped myself up at the armpit on the wall. The whole crew stared back at me. Armen with his grin, Ciara with an interested look towards the enemy; Julie, Tam and Leha paying strict attention to me. At least I didn't have to go looking for them.
"Na, a third of them at most. More likely a quarter," I said, "It's hard to keep conscripts in a muddy hole all day, so they will probably rotate them. I doubt there's a single chevalier in a foxhole."
Julie had a good laugh at that.
"So, what does that mean?" Armen asked, "Do we attack directly or try and starve them out?"
"Don't have time to starve anyone out, and most of the town isn't behind the walls anyway," I said, "We attack... we're just going to have to be a bit smarter about it is all. Someone's aware of just what wins battles for us now, and they've taken precautions. The trenches might not be the only surprise in store."
"Which means what?" Tam asked, "Don't use the gaatlok?"
"Not at all," I replied, "I'll explain the plan in war council, but for now, I need to parley with whoever the hell is in charge down there."
"You want to see who has come up with this?" Julie said, a rhetorical question if ever there was one, "We're coming with you."
"I see no reason to leave behind the High-Chancellor, her bodyguard, the vice-Chancellor, First Enchanter, or the Treasurer," I smiled, "We'll make a full display. Who knows, maybe they'll surrender when we tell them they're doomed."
"Hopefully they'll believe it," Julie agreed, "It's a long way to Val Royeaux."
"Not so long that they're untouchable," Leha added, before hocking a gobbet of spit over the edge of the Highway at the enemy, "I can smell the gold already."
By the time we got the parley arranged, Soprano had arrived with her group, and we weren't going to be driven off any time soon. There seemed to be some reluctance on the part of our enemy, which had played right into our hands. Supposedly.
The meeting point was in the tall grass between the trenches and the ramp onto the highway, within reach of both armies. Well, the whole city was within our reach, but it was in volley-range of the royalist crossbows.
My own delegation and I sat in the saddle, at the top of the ramp in clear view, to signal we were ready. Tam carried my pale blue United Nations banner, which hung limp as the breeze had died down. We waited a few minutes, and sure enough, the royalist delegation made their way through the main street of the town and out into the field.
There were four of them, three masked nobles and one half-masked standard bearer. They crossed the trenches over wooden planks, perfectly confident, their heads held high. I felt a niggle of doubt scratch the back of my mind. Their city was under attack, their lives very much in danger. Either they were very good actors or they were exactly as confident as they seemed. Which, I could not tell. Orlesian nobles are trained from birth for such displays, but not all carry it so well.
"Let's get this over with," Julie said quietly, before raising her voice, "Forward!" She nudged Revas, the white horse taking off at a quick canter down the ramp.
Tam followed directly, leaving the rest of us to follow in a clump, particularly as both of those ahead sped to a gallop once they were off the ramp. By the time we caught up, they were slowing down deliberately to a full stop, and at first I didn't know why. I looked ahead, and saw no ambush or other threat laying in wait. I was about to ask, when I saw the reason.
Him.
On one side was well dressed noble in restrained dark colours, his armoured mask in black covering his face. On the other, a woman dressed in warm oranges and reds, with a staff and a courtly mask in red; a mage but if she was one of the Circle's creatures, I'd have eaten my beret. The standard bearer didn't stray near, keeping a good twenty yards off where he couldn't overhear anything.
The leader of their delegation was the centre of attention, for many reasons.
"Well, that explains a few things," I said quietly as we approached, "Think he'll recognise us?"
"Unless he's an imbecile, yes," Tam replied, "In fact, I think he already has."
"Maybe that's a good thing," Armen said.
"Absolutely not," Julie stated, "He knows too much."
"Someone mind telling me what in the pits you are all talking about?" Leha asked, "Who is he?"
"That answer's complicated," Ciara grinned.
The leader approached slowly. He wore a full dark blue mask, one that was very familiar to me. Around the rest of his head was the helmet of an Orlesian marshal, yellow feathers and all. The green and white colours of Chalons adorned his doublet and chainmail, the lion motif repeated. His horse was as large as Bellona was, but was startling white like Revas. He halted before us, and waited. It was me he was waiting for, and I was happy to oblige. I had a good opener too, I think.
"Ser Milo Duval of the Exalted Plains," I said loudly, "I see you got a new horse."
Nothing like reminding a man that you had his horse shot out from under him once before.
"Lord Hunt, good to see you again too," Duval replied without any hint of hostility, "And it is Marshal Duval now."
"How did that happen?" I asked, "I seem to recall you promising me discretion, the last time we met. I hope your promotion wasn't traded on the back of my secrets."
"No, but the word has spread about your true origins," Duval said, "Seems you were lying to me the first time regardless." Excellent deflection from the crux of my question.
Julie rumbled with laughter. "He has you there," she said.
"Madame Marteau, I am glad to see you are in good form too... or is it Madame Hunt now?" Duval continued.
"It is," Julie replied, "I've collected a few titles. Madame Hunt, Marquise de la Fayette, High-Chancellor of Free Orlais..."
"So it seems," Duval replied, "We have much to discuss."
"Marshal!" came a shout from behind.
I leaned to see the source, and found the noble riding up to join Duval with the masked mage. Looking back to the Marshal himself, and I found annoyance radiating off his posture. The man had slouched slightly in the saddle, a measure of disrespect evident to even the most casual observer.
"Enough of the pleasantries," the noble said, "Introduce us."
Duval held up his arm, indicating to the man.
"May I introduce Duke Remache de Lydes, overlord of the city and its demesne," the Marshal said, before moving his arm to point at the mage, "And Lady Lienne de Montsimmard, Arcane Advisor to the one true Emperor."
Duval indicated for me to make the introductions on our side. I decided to keep them short.
"I am Samuel Hunt, Viceroy of the Dales," I started.
"The 'peacekeeper' from another world," Remache said.
"Yeah, that one," I said, "To my right is Julie Hunt, High-Chancellor of Free Orlais; Ciara des Sabraes, Vice-Chancellor; and Leha Cadas, Treasurer."
I ignored a derisive scoff, with the pleasant thought that the man scoffing would be in chains by sunset the next day. Or dead on the field.
"To my left, Armen Cartier, First-Enchanter of the Circle of Magi at Hearth," I continued, "And Tam, who needs neither titles nor further introduction."
Tam didn't disappoint me, her vicious, canine smile appearing on her face, directed pointedly at Remache. Her free hand resting gently on the hilt of her longsword. The man could betray no feelings via his covered face, but quickly moved his horse further out of her reach. Mission accomplished. I thought of delightful ways of rewarding Tam for her perception of my intent, until my reverie was broken.
"A demon, a traitor, a knife-ear from the woods, a murdering dwarven smuggler, a rebellious apostate, and a Qunari whore," Remache spat, "These are the leaders that would overthrow and replace the nobility of Orlais? Ha!"
His insults were so petty, so obviously rooted in fear, they slid right off without sticking. Here was a man whose word couldn't be trusted even on the smallest thing. None of the others reacted either, clearly in agreement. Only thing of any real interest he said was his description of Leha, which peaked my curiosity, but that was a matter for after he was in our custody. Someone else was insulted, however.
"That is quite enough," said a voice, "You are embarrassing yourself. And us." It took me a few seconds to realise that it had been Lienne de Montsimmard who had spoken. Remache glared back at her in reply, requiring the Marshal's intervention.
"I agree," said Duval, "Remache, Gaspard gave me command until he arrives. You will restrain yourself." The Duke broke off his squaring-off with the mage.
"Very well, Marshal," he said.
"Good dog," Tam added with malicious glee, "Sit."
That almost got Remache going again. He moved towards his own sword, but a wave of Duval's hand was enough to settle him down. In absolute silence, he removed his hand from his blade and placed them on the rise of the saddle in front of him, eyes glued to Tam. She ignored him entirely, another wise move to my mind.
"You called this parley," Duval said, addressing us, "State your intentions."
"Your chevaliers shall surrender, your men-at-arms shall dump their weapons and return to their homes, and the city shall be occupied by the Free Army, pending elections to choose representatives for the Assemblée Nationale," Julie said quickly, "Remache de Lydes will be arrested and tried, his attack on the alienage of Lydes was a crime against humanity."
A splutter of protest erupted from the noble himself. "War crimes?!" he shouted, "By what right!"
"The right of conquest," Julie continued, looking to Duval, "Either you agree or the Free Army will be forced to bombard your camp and the walls. We will take the city street by street if necessary."
There was no response for a moment. We watched the three before us for any indication of an answer. Lienne was nonchalant, not even paying attention. She was just the protection. Remache desperately wanted to answer, it was obvious, but had to defer to the Marshal. It didn't look like Duval was seriously considering it either. Finally, he sighed loudly.
"I have authority to give you the following counteroffer," Duval said in a deep tone, "The Free Army shall retreat to Halamshiral. In return for your support against Celene and her loyalists, the true Emperor of Orlais, Gaspard de Chalons, will recognise your overlordship over the Dales."
He paused. Have to say, I did not see this coming. That Gaspard would want to ally with us, rather than crush us, was outside my calculations. Court opinion would have eviscerated him, if and when it got out. I began to realise that by the time it would have, Celene would have been betrayed on the road to Halamshiral as she chased us, putting the Royal Army and the Free Army both in Gaspard's own hands to use against dissenting nobles and pesky foreigners alike.
"Gaspard has nothing but admiration for your skill in battle and your competence," Duval continued, "He is even willing to tolerate the measures you have taken with regard to changing the government, provided they are restricted to the Dales and every subject takes an oath of allegiance to his dynasty."
I looked to Julie. Her eyes were hard, and her lips thinned. She didn't trust the offer. Couldn't ignore the plight of the rest of Orlais either. Especially not for a person like Gaspard, who would likely tax and conscript them to pay the price in gold and blood for foreign wars.
The truth was that the offer was directed primarily at me, but I had no means of telling that at Lydes.
"What about the mages?" Armen asked, "Do we get sent back to towers for supporting the cause?"
"The Empire already recognises the establishment of the Circle at Hearth," Duval replied, "Gaspard has no reason to interfere with it. It is a matter for the Divine, not the crown of Orlais."
Armen shrugged at the rather non-committal answer, and shook his head at me. He didn't trust the offer either. Julie leaned, and whispered to Ciara. Who proceeded to move to the front.
"We refuse," Ciara said. Duval's head dropped. Disappointed, I think. Remache looked positively joyful, no doubt thinking bad thoughts about our vice-chancellor and how the whole thing would backfire on her kind. Duval returned up to look at us.
"I must warn you, an army of one hundred thousand is marching here as we speak," he said, "They will arrive in three days."
"We will take the city before that," I said.
"Perhaps, but how will you fare without your new weapons?" Duval continued, "It is no secret that you have been buying up all the brimstone in the Empire. Buying from a broker in Mont-de-Glace, sourced from the sulphur lakes. We have cut your supply. It is my understanding that Lady Seryl de Jader bars the way to Orzammar, the only other source that you can reach without going across the Waking Sea."
My jaw clenched. We had a huge stockpile of blackpowder, Julie had made a large mixing machine that churned the stuff out at a massive rate, but I hadn't anticipated any serious disruption to the supply of ingredients. Who the hell robbed a cart full of sulphur? Why would guards even stop it? It seemed absurd to me. Still, it wasn't a complete disaster. We had more than enough to whip Gaspard.
"We have enough," I said, more or less confident that I was right, "Appreciate the concern."
"I appreciate you kindly giving us a clue about blackpowder," Duval replied with amusement, "I ask again. Will you accept Gaspard's offer and join us?"
"No," growled Julie, brooking no further question. The Marshal inclined his head respectfully, a chevalier's salute to valiant opponents.
"I look forward to meeting you on the field of battle," Duval said, with genuine enthusiasm. He turned his horse around, and rode off. Lienne followed at once. Remache gave us another look, and only then did so.
"Leha, we have enough blackpowder stocked to slap these idiots around, right?" I asked.
"Definitely," Leha replied, "But we'll need to take Jader, clear the supply problem up before heading to Val Royeaux."
"Good," I said, "Jader won't be a problem."
We were getting ahead of ourselves.
The evening saw the arrival of our foot troops and the newly minted National Guard units formed from the volunteers. They were late, too late for us to attack that day. I wasn't sure it would make a difference, and I am still not sure it would have, but I ordered the army to rest.
At dawn, I issued the orders for the army's starting positions for the assault, and called the war council. We met in a tent on the Highway, one of its canvass sides pulled up so we had a full view of both our arrangements and those of the enemy. On a table beside it was a map of the city's defences, a huge and detailed sketch of the city from one of Leha's contacts with the new trenchworks drawn on. Chess pieces belonging to Louise de Villars represented the troops.
When Armen finally entered the tent, the late arrival to the council, I motioned for everyone to join me so I could explain my proposal. McNulty, Soprano, Mike, Louise, Velarana, Barris, Isewen, and Armen all crowded around two sides of the table, leaving the third free for Julie, Ciara and Leha by virtue of rank. And Tam by virtue of strength of character. I took up the fourth side, the city behind me.
"Our objective here was not to destroy the city, or even to take it, but to destroy the army guarding it and move on," I began, "Without the army, it could be ignored easily, or toppled from within by sympathisers."
"Are there sympathisers?" Velarana inquired.
"They've fled with the rest of the town, but if we destroy the army, they'll all come back and the town is ours," I replied, "Unfortunately, the army seems to have decided to use it as a large set of fortifications, so it looks like we have to take it regardless. Standing in our way are the outer defences, the town beyond the wall, and the town behind the wall."
"The walls themselves not being much of a problem when you can blow them to pieces in a couple of hours," Leha joked.
"True," I said, "Though keeping them as intact as possible is preferred. If the one hundred thousand that Duval mentioned does show up, we'll have to retreat and leave a strong garrison, to encourage them to split their forces so we can beat those armies individually. They can't take walls as easily as we can."
"What do you intend to do about the enemy?" McNulty asked, "They're dug in deeper than a tick on a doglord's ass."
General snickering at the expense of the Fereldans commenced. I shook my head, having no real experience of that country and its people, nor the patience to share the rather pointless rivalry. Hearing them insult the place in Orlesian would probably make a few of them go supernova. I was speaking Orlesian far more than Common by this point, hell the whole war council proceeded in the tongue, but even I sympathised with the Fereldans there.
"We'll attack in four stages," I said, "The first thing we have to deal with is the two sections of outer defences. They're not all that well protected. Trenches will help them a lot, but most of their army won't be in them. There's not enough space for twenty thousand troops within the walls either, so they'll be hiding in the town or if Duval is actually less intelligent than he seems, they'll be drawn up for battle."
"You want to use the rockets on them," Soprano said, completing my thought.
"Exactly," I said.
"How many?" Julie asked.
"All of them," I replied.
The idea was met with stunned silence. We had a little over a hundred and twenty of the things ready, but it's not like we had any shortage of targets to use them on either.
"What about the army coming to relieve the city?" Barris asked, "Won't you need the new weapons to deal with that?"
I looked to Julie for the answer.
"The rockets are much easier to make," Julie said, "Almost every blacksmith in Orlais can make metal pipes out of thin metal, every noble and most merchants want them for water and sewage pipes. In fact, most of the rockets we have now are made out of the privy pipes of the châteaux in the Emprise."
An infectious grin plastered itself on most of the faces present.
"You mean we're shooting nobles' own dirt back at them?" Mike chuckled, "That's justice, if ever I heard it."
A groan of exasperation came from Louise de Villars. "Quite," the chevalier said, to deflect the glances.
"Also helps that it takes no special training to use the rockets, at least compared with the cannons," I said, "Only reason we were able to get our cannons working is because we had hundreds of Tranquil sitting around doing jack. They'll join the first stage too, bombarding the earth forts and raking the tops of the walls with shot, to let the second stage advance."
"So we are going to get stuck in," Louise chirped, "Here I was thinking we'd just shoot them into submission, making jokes about privy pipes the whole time."
"We could, but we don't have the time," I replied, "The second stage, we march on the trenches."
I went to the map and moved the black pawns and bishops from their gathering point on the highway. Towards the first line of white pawns and rooks, representing Duval's shovel handiwork.
"After the bombardment comes the easy part, which is why I'm giving it to the volunteers we've picked up," I explained, "Our newer Free Army units and the National Guard will take the trenches all at once, and whatever is left of the earthen forts. That's twenty thousand or so fresh troops against maybe five or six thousand in the trenches wanting to keep their heads down."
"Under whose command?" Mike asked.
"Yours," I replied, "You seem to have built up the best rapport with our new troops, so the job is yours, along with a field promotion to General."
Mike saluted, swelled with pride. She understood I was putting a great deal of trust in her. That she did get it was entirely why I did trust her.
"Once the trenches are taken, the second stage troops will hold that line for the third," I said, "The Free Army will move in to take the part of the town located outside of the walls. After the rockets, I have no idea how much resistance we'll face. Half of the place could be on fire, or it could be mostly intact barring a few building collapses. That's why we have our more hardened troops to go in at this stage, the fighting should be harder."
"That's my command," Soprano said, "Correct?"
I moved the black rooks into the part of the town within the outer curve of the walls near the eastern gate.
"Yes, it is," I confirmed, "All the firelancers not assigned to the Peacekeepers will be yours. Anyone gets it into their head to set up behind barricades or shieldwalls in those narrow streets and alleys, you give them volleys and clear them out with the bayonets. Clear?"
"As crystal from Serault, my lord," Soprano replied.
"Once the outer town is taken, comes the hardest part," I continued. I moved the King and Queen into the town through the eastern gate.
"The Peacekeepers, McNulty's Grenadiers in front, will clear out the town," I said, "Assuming they haven't surrendered yet."
"They won't," said Ciara, "After what that Duke said yesterday? He'd rather die than be beaten by elves and peasants."
"Or chevaliers," Louise added, "The man is a decadent imbecile with delusions of glory. He isn't well liked among the order." But he was very well connected. Remache was a little too valuable to waste.
"The Peacekeepers will have the hardest fight, but it's at this point I expect people will try to flee through the northern gate," I said, moving the knights to the other side of the city, "Louise and Isewen, the Guard and the Lancers will surround the other parts of the city and intercept anyone attempting to flee. If they're nobles, you have permission to use absolute force to do so."
Louise shot me a sour look, lips pursed in irritation. My brow lifted, confusion clouding my mind.
"Thoughts, de Villars?" I asked.
"The Vice-Regal Guard should stay with the Viceroy," she replied.
"The Viceroy has to stay on the Highway to coordinate everything," I sighed, "If I fight in every battle, I'll have no ammunition left for the important ones." This would be my first battle where I myself would not fight, in either world. I wasn't pleased about that, but I understood the need. So too did my companions.
"And we don't need our hands held all the way to the gates of heaven," Soprano joked.
"That sounds like a dirty joke, Colonel," Leha added, her voice level. No need, I hope, to make explicit what she meant by 'the gates of heaven'. Soprano let an amused breath escape her, which almost got me going. Thankfully, I had work to keep me on course.
I became a little grim for the next part.
"Your chevaliers aren't going to be much use in tight streets," I said to Louise, "But your role is still vital. If Remache, Duval, or that mage of theirs escape, they'll cause much more trouble later. Absolutely no one is to escape, is that understood?"
"Yes, my lord," repeated Louise and Isewen both.
Our army marched into its battle formations, the eager volunteers in front, our veterans behind. Our enemy presented themselves too, filling the gaps between the town's streets, poking their heads out of windows, flying banners from the trenches.
Rockets screeched and moaned off of their carts, smoke trails lining the morning sky with white over our heads. The windless quiet was broken too by the booms of the explosives, echoing off the walls. The trenches, the town, the forts, all were showered. The rockets were designed to explode at about shoulder height, having long booms coming out of their noses that detonated the lyrium ignition charges. Shrapnel tore through the tall grass, into the fortifications, among the city streets. Our cannons waited until the dust cleared, and made their contribution. Explosive shells wrecked the enemy forts, solid bolts smashed the tops of the walls.
We cheered as the enemy died on their feet, or desperately hid in fear.
The volunteers, for so long under the boot of the chevaliers, did not wait for the order. They rumbled forward, blue banners crested by silver halla idols moving with them. The band played Dixie at 120. Mike moved the more disciplined troops of the Free Army up behind, but they were completely outpaced. The great columns charged towards the trenches. I awaited the hail of crossbow bolts from the survivors. It didn't come. My confusion grew when the scent of bacon fat wafted through the air. By the time I realised what that signified, it was too late.
Fire-pots shot out from behind the cover of the high walls, thrown by trebuchets in the ruins of the alienage, built out of the very wood that had once sheltered its inhabitants. Most of our troops were still in the open, and the siege weapons had been aimed beforehand to create a killzone. The trenches were not only protection, but a trap.
The incendiaries fell among our troops. Whole handfuls of men and women, burning alive. The volunteers pressed forwards regardless, heedless. They took the trenches, losing so many, but could not move forwards or backwards. Fleeing would have been met with more firepots, though many did try to. Some succeeded. The enemy to the front had finally found his crossbows, so sheltering in the lee of the wall wasn't going to happen either.
With our men and women pinned, I turned the cannon on the alienage. I had avoided doing so before, as breaches were perfect places to defend, but clearly that wasn't Duval's plan here. With catapults throwing fire at us, I needed to remove them from the equation. For hours, we pounded the walls. I even tried firing the cannons at a high angle over the damn things, with little success. It was just a matter of time before we got through, but a real sense of urgency was given thanks to a volley being launched against the trenches every fifteen minutes.
At last, we penetrated the walls, and McNulty formed up his Grenadiers to storm the breach. Minutes before I was to give the order, our cavalry came racing down the Highway. Louise and Isewen delivered the news.
The enemy was upon us.
Duval had lied. Gaspard's forces had not been three days away, but less than two. The lie had one purpose; to commit us to the battle, to hold us so we could be caught. Mounted chevaliers and crossbowmen were less than an hour from us, the foot soldiers maybe a day away. We might drive them off, but the siege was essentially over. We had to retreat before we were attacked in the open the next day.
The choice was a horrible one. Abandon the troops in the trenches, volunteers who had pledged their lives to us, or likely suffer a massive defeat.
I tried to split the difference. I launched one last attempt to get them out. We got a message through, telling them to get ready to run. Our forces moved up to cover their escape, to tempt the trebuchets to fire at us rather than them.
When the time came, Duval was ready. Our Grenadiers made a feint attack against the breach in the wall and the cannon fired through it to cause as much chaos among the siege weapons' crews as possible. It wasn't enough. When our people began getting out of the trenches, a difficult task as many of the ladders inside them had been damaged by our attacks, the royalists' pounced. Their infantry rushed forwards, too fast for us to retarget them, and closed with ours. Chevaliers exited the gates and swung around to envelop the volunteers. A good number escaped, but the vast majority did not. The first column of Gaspard's relief force showed its face minutes afterwards.
In the end, we withdrew.
We lost a full third of our force. Only a thousand dead, but as many as ten thousand captured, all of them from the National Guard and including almost all of the wounded. Five thousand had escaped the trap.
I had watched the entire battle with a sense of detachment. It was only as we began to leave that I felt like someone had ripped my heart out. It still feels that way, when I think of it.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Only one more large chapter left in the Revolution volume, most likely split into two for publishing.
There should be a poll up on my profile about the Outlanders story that will start in mid-November, about which particular Outlander you'd like to see first.
Once this volume is complete, the story will go on hiatus for October. I intend to both sort out the exact plan for the next volume and finish Battlefield 2183 in time for its second anniversary. I might also edit and publish a completed 40k story I have had floating about for five years or so.
All this might prove difficult to complete as I keep having good ideas like a Stargate-ME crossover idea that no one seems to have tried out yet, a post-Fallout 4 story about the life in the aftermath of a Brotherhood victory, and continuing ideas for the Bioshock-Alien crossover story I already have up. I really wish I could get paid for this shit.
Katkiller-V: Moved up the talk with Briala just for you. Originally, it was meant to happen in the first chapter of the next volume, but it did fit better where it is, I think.
5 Coloured Walker: If you haven't played the Witcher games, you really should.
The man who threatened to report me did so anonymously via a guest review.
Raw666: Several Game of Thrones ideas have come to mind. Originally, I considered both the Game of Thrones universe and the Elder Scrolls universe to write Outlander in. Dragon Age worked the best by far because of how magic works in it, and things seem to be stuck in the Renaissance on Thedas rather than in medieval times for both of the other universes.
Natzi Sumbitch: Congratulations, you win the cookies. Aurelia's look is indeed based on Yennefer, from the Witcher series of games and books. Seems to me if you want to scream 'powerful sorceress' black curls are the way to go. Though obviously Aurelia doesn't have the violet eyes, Tam already had dibs on that colour.
RiBreadMan: I can't wait to write it.
Guest: Thanks a million.