Chapter Forty-Two: The Sack of Redcliffe
To say that my first visit to Redcliffe was in the winter of 9:39 is not strictly true in the chronological sense. It is according to my own memories, which makes the whole situation all the more infuriating, but regardless of the confusion, it is very much the most important visit. It established the more or less hostile relationship that our great nation has had with Ferelden ever since, despite my great hope that the ire would die with Alistair and Anora.
I hope to set in stone the reasons why I believe what occurred was both unavoidable and unnecessary. I leave it to you, the reader, to decide if I am simply fooling myself.
The crux of the argument is that we saw the bottom of the barrel on far too many essential supplies. I have already mentioned lead for bullets, but that was hardly the only military necessity we were in danger of running out of.
The only people running around in real boots were Julie and I, for instance. While Ciara might have been perfectly happy to go barefoot, not even the other elves were content to do so. Leather was a serious need if we were going to make any sort of real time. Likewise, the horses and ponies needed their own shoes too, and we had ten thousand of them to keep going, or else we couldn't bring the huge amount of food and gunpowder we had on the carts.
Soap was greatly needed and greatly desired too. Keeping our army disease free required it, and Brandon's preaching meant that it was socially undesirable to be caught smelling like a pig for too long. The Fereldans could learn a thing or two from that last bit.
Beyond the military concern about supplies was another that curled up in my mind in particular.
While Leha was busy tearing her hair out over all over the above, I found my thoughts consumed by worries over the expectant mothers in our midst. We were days from running out of salted meats, and they were getting a little ropey to eat regardless. We had no shortage of grain, so no one was going to starve any time soon. The problem is that gruel and bread alone aren't enough for those carrying children. We needed a much more varied diet for them, one that included protein, calcium and vitamins.
Leha, in her fit of pique over my merciful ways, demanded that we raid Honnleath for everything it could provide. The lead piping off the Chantry chapel, the livestock, the smithy's tools and materials, she wanted us to blow through the place like locusts. After a second trip in the early morning by Julie and the Grand-Cleric came up empty, I was sorely tempted to agree.
Armen put a stop to it. He pointed out quite rightly that Honnleath didn't have anything like enough of what we would need, and almost certainly would fail to provide some of the key supplies.
As the army prepared to leave, Julie and I agreed upon the fateful decision, and announced it to the war council. Redcliffe would be stormed. It would have everything we needed, and Arl Teagan would resist us regardless of what we did. I don't think I ever saw a man so at conflict with himself as Barris was when Julie pronounced the judgement. His head remained hung throughout, as I explained the exact plan.
There was another bird I intended to kill with the same stone.
I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of Free Orlais, and that of its successor states, against all enemies, foreign and domestic;
That I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same;
That I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion;
And that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of a citizen-soldier.
So help me, Lady of the Sky
The Avvars removed their fists from their chests, having completed the modified oath of allegiance to the Free Army. The necessary first step towards the greater trust I hoped to build. Explaining the second was my task. The rest of the army was filing past, throwing glances at the newcomers from their columns or the wagons. Behind them on the other side of the road, Blondie's chevaliers looked on. For my protection, she said. Whatever made her feel better.
Interestingly, this is the only time in our history where the oath would be administered in the Common tongue, but we'll get to the reasons for that soon enough. The thousand or so remaining warriors had pledged themselves to our cause, although they didn't have their warpaint on. Otherwise, the moment probably would have made it into Julie's paintings.
From the grumbling of Mike beside me, I clearly had a long way to go towards building the trust I wanted.
Though that might have had more to do with the way the Avvars were presenting themselves than any distrust the diminutive general had. They stood in a great cluster, not in the neat ranks that Mike had drummed into everyone from the common peasant to Armen's Libertarian mages. She was as OCD about it as any drill sergeant. It also could have been the other party taking the oath that displeased her.
The Viddasala stood in front of the entire host of Avvars, facing towards us. Compared to them, she was the absolute picture of discipline. No slouching, no wandering eyes, no casual slinging or holding of weapons. It was as if she was a statue of a woman in steel, albeit one with very impressive horns.
I nodded approvingly at the mob.
The other person by my side shifted his considerable weight, as he towered over me.
"They've said the words," Amund stated, "What is next?"
"Discipline," Mike replied in Orlesian, "My most inexperienced soldiers have more unit cohesion than this lot. The Fereldans do have cavalry. Not a lot of it, but enough to see these ones off."
I wrinkled my nose, both at her use of Earth terminology and her presumption to speak for me. Lucky for her, she was exactly right, and I'm not the sort of man to punish a person for speaking out of turn as long as it's the truth.
"Did you get any of that?" I asked Amund, knowing he didn't speak the predominant language of the army.
"The important word," the giant replied, "I know what discipline means, even if you sound like a mouse squeaking when you say it. Should warn you though, most of them won't like fighting like lowlanders."
"We do not fight like lowlanders," Mike said, in accented Common this time, "We do not fight like anybody you have ever seen."
"Your horse-riders seemed familiar enough," Amund replied, "The trick of appearing on the mountain-top was what impressed us." It must have, given their tradition of not surrendering under almost any circumstances.
"You're not going to be fighting in the old way," I said firmly, "The reasons for that are simple. Your ways work in raiding and keeping Ferelden and Orlais away from your mountain camps, but they're not much good for much else. If they were, you'd be the rulers of Ferelden, not the lowlanders."
Amund growled his agreement, no matter how much he didn't like the truth.
"But I fully expect you to keep the ferocity and bravery your people are famous for. I'll be counting on it," I continued, before indicating for the Viddasala to approach. She did so, her previous discipline untarnished except for a quick glance at the towering Amund. Sharing my own thought that the man had kossith blood somewhere down his family tree, no doubt. For Amund's part, he watched her come on with the glazed eyes of indifference.
I held my hand out for her to shake. She looked at it, and got the idea, shaking it with surprisingly meek strength.
"I checked out what you said about what happened last night," I said to her, "You were right. You did try and warn the other sentries about Tallis having sex with her guard. They ignored you."
"For which they'll be digging latrines for the next three months," Mike added with a dastardly grin, "Since that's all they've proven themselves good for." Light punishment really, but we didn't have a prison to toss the idiots into.
"I also know why you did it," I said, "You have no place in the Qun and you wanted a place with us. You won one."
The Viddasala nodded, staring past us, averting her eyes. "I have seen how you use every resource at your disposal," she replied, "You do not mistreat elves, you care deeply for the welfare of your people, and you try to find a role for every single... citizen. I am honoured to join such a movement."
I frowned. She painted us as more or less the same as the Qun. I was far from sure I liked that conclusion. I'm a lot more sure now that I don't like it. An idea came to me to counteract my unease, one I had used before.
"From now on," I said, "Your name is Asala. Your name, not your title or rank. Your name. Got it?" If getting a new name helped Tam in her quest to distance herself from the Qun, it could help another, I figured. 'Vidda' didn't roll off the tongue, so Asala it was.
Asala's hard eyes softened, widening and looking directly into mine for the first time. They watered up, and her jaw moved. She was trying to work out what to say. Of course, I didn't know that Asala has several deep and very complimentary meanings in Qunlat, but I still would have named her that if I did know. I felt a stab of worry, not sure what she was going through.
In the end, I let her sort out her feelings, we didn't have time.
"Amund, who's your most level-headed warrior?" I asked, "Or your best two?"
"Cormac and Aoife," he said, "They both stood their ground against your chevaliers, and somehow didn't die. Not even sure I could have done that."
I let out an amused breath. A target that big, no way Louise's heavy lancers could have missed. "Perfect," I said, "Go get them."
The Avvar Sky-Watcher wandered off to do just that, his giant warhammer balanced on a shoulder as he liked to do. Asala tracked the man with her eyes, a movement so in contrast to her previous reserve that I tilted my head at her in inquiry. She noticed and understood.
"These people we have picked up..." she said, "They seem unruly, chaotic. Is it truly wise to bring them?" She was sniffling slightly afterwards.
I smiled. She had saved me some trouble with that question. "That's why you're here," I said, not elaborating just yet. She seemed to accept it, making her own guesses. Mike gave me a look like she wanted to say something. I waved her off. I had made my decision.
The giant returned with two fur-clothed warriors as ordered, both carrying a sword and shield.
Cormac was almost as large as Amund was, though he was wiry rather than bulky. Aoife was of average height, but was much more akin to the Sky-Watcher in terms of build. Both possessed black hair and grey eyes, but the shapes of their faces told me that they weren't related. Black hair and grey eyes are in fact a common trait among the Avvar, at least on the Fereldan side of the Frostbacks. The Orlesian tribes tend to be blonde and blue-eyed... which probably means that Louise de Villars has significant Avvar blood in her own veins.
They joined Asala in front of us, their attitude attentive but... stunned? Blank? It was hard to tell.
"Here they are," Amund said, "What you need them for?"
"In a few days, we will do battle with a Fereldan army," I said, "This will be a test, both of your skill and whether or not you can fight our way."
I looked over the three leaders.
"Asala, Aoife and Cormac," I said, "You three will be adjutants to the General here." I pointed to Mike. The two Avvars looked the elf over, seeming to conclude that she was worthy with thin smiling lips and small gestures with their hands. Asala already knew her... as a gaoler.
"Mike, turn this rabble into a regiment," I said to her, before turning to Amund, "A Highlander regiment." She knew perfectly well what that meant. She had access to our library, after all.
"Yes, my lord!" Mike said loudly, half-deafening me. She marched off forthwith, seeming the drag the other three along by the gravity of her personality. Her explanations of why it was necessary to make a hand signal when someone of higher rank passed by or gave an order began.
Amund chuckled to himself. "That one is the least Orlesian Orlesian I've ever heard of," he laughed, "Same with the rest of them. What did you do to them to make them so stern?"
The fires of revolution cleanse many things, frivolous idiocy in wartime being among them.
"Clearly, you haven't seen us party," I replied, "Besides, we were exiled from Orlais."
"Doesn't change anything," Amund said, cracking his knuckles, "They were sired in Orlais, they were born in Orlais, they grew off their mothers' tit in Orlais. Not sure why you're saying 'we' though, you're definitely not Orlesian."
"Oh yeah?" I smirked, "I have two lovers, one of whom is supposed to be my wife, I'm marrying another for political power, I think anyone who doesn't clean themselves daily is a savage, and I don't like shitting in the woods. I'm a couple of elf servants short of being a highborn dandy."
Amund laughed harder. "I hope you don't fight like one," he said, "Or else I'll be very disappointed."
"Don't you worry about that," I said.
Mike finally got the entire Avvar mob to salute properly with the help of her new adjutants, and I nodded my goodbyes to Amund before mounting Bellona to join the advance. She had things well in hand, and had impressed the Sky-Watcher. I trusted her to continue in that vein.
We made contact with Arl Teagan's scouts two days out of Honnleath in the western Hinterlands, but the army they were supposed to be screening for wasn't behind them. Evidently, Tallis hadn't been the only one to slip away in the night from the village. I had thought that blocking the road and putting a watch on the stables would be enough to assure that no word got to the Arl of our advance before he was facing it, but I was clearly wrong.
Thankfully, our Lancers were vastly superior to their Fereldan counterparts, and pushed through to discover what the enemy was up to. Isewen found the Fereldans in full retreat, about six thousand of them. We pressed them hard, reaching Redcliffe on schedule on the fourth day.
The war council the night before finalised my plan for what I hoped would be the briefest of sieges. The next morning, it was put into action.
We encircled Redcliffe, setting camp on the hilltops that surrounded the place, bypassing the main crossroads that would later become a battleground for the templars and a base for the Inquisition. This meant that our civilians weren't in one place, and would be protected at all times by both troops and geography.
I sent Isewen to the east, to watch the roads to Denerim and the Bannorn. I had no doubts that the Arl had sent word to both for reinforcements. There was no way that King Alistair could lead any force in time to save the town, but I wanted to make sure intelligence about the size of our army, the presence of civilians within it, and the number of our cannon didn't make it out.
De Villars had a special task, though Blondie being Blondie, she didn't think it worthy of her very impressive skills. Her chevaliers escorted a battery of Tranquil gunners to the high ground overlooking the harbour and the castle, and dug some fifteen cannons in there to cover the water routes of escape and supply. She wanted to join the assault personally, at my side no less, but this task was perhaps just as important, as you will see.
The Rangers, the Grenadiers and the Aequitarian mages were to be held in reserve, much to the chagrin of their respective commanders. Only McNulty complained aloud though, Soprano and Velarana being far too stoic to do so. I explained the decision by saying that we needed to preserve ammunition for the moment, but in truth, I was afraid that unleashing firelances and mages on the Fereldans this early would spread the idea that we were out to kill everyone.
The assault would be conducted by three regiments, although only one of them really was worthy of that title at the time.
Namely the Templars under Barris, which fought entirely in the Free Orlesian mode by this stage, outfitted as billmen and crossbow troops to fight in a mini-tercio. With them, the Jaderites under Fisher, more or less a mob of well muscled sailors dressed in high quality chainmail, armed with the spare swords and spears we had gathered in the course of the war in Orlais. Both of them had tasks to carry out, once the last group had done the real knifework. I had full confidence that they'd succeed, and said as much to their commanders.
The ones taking the breach would be Highlanders of course, led by Mike personally and accompanied by me.
Of course, all of this was to go into effect only if diplomacy failed. That was by no means certain. Teagan, for all his Fereldan honour and his family links to Queen Rowan, was not known to be an unreasonable man. Barris in particular was convinced that Teagan could be talked into abandoning any irrational defence of the town in favour of declaring it an open city, and providing the resources our army needed in return.
Which was why I found myself in front of the walls of Redcliffe itself with Julie and Barris, under a flag of truce. There was absolutely no reason at that point to throw away negotiation as a tool. We had not yet fought a group of Fereldans larger than two dozen strong, and very few of those had been killed. Julie and I were perfectly happy to at least try to talk to them.
Fereldan readers, pay careful attention. There has been a lot of bullshit written about this moment in history.
I remember riding along the Imperial Highway, all three of us in our best dress, to the agreed parley. All I was thinking about was the ground under Bellona's hooves in great disappointment.
"This is the Imperial Highway?" I said, gesturing to the wide path of broken cobblestones, "What the hell happened?"
"They used the stone to build the defences of Redcliffe," Barris answered, "They needed a wall and a keep more than they needed a fancy looking road. And the space cleared by where it used to be is good enough as a road for most."
It was better than the cart-hewn trails we had to follow to avoid the crossroads, that was for sure, but we would need to revise our estimates of how fast we could travel if the entire country's road system had been looted for material in the same manner.
"Is it like this all the way to Amaranthine?" I complained, "Leha's going to have an episode!"
"That might be funny to watch," Julie cut in, smiling at me from under her blue half-mask, "But only until she explained why exactly that we are screwed." Leha's episodes were a source of great amusement for her, to my great disapproval.
"Only as far as Rainesfere," said Barris, responding to my question, "The Highway is never as large as it is in Orlais, but it won't rattle our bones." The man knew the lay of the land well, he was from the lakeshore himself after all. I gave the man a slap on the shoulder, thanking him as if he had been the man to stop the bastards robbing us of a good road personally.
We rode towards the wall and stopped just out of what we imagined to be the range of the longbows, of which there were many pointing in our general direction. Behind us, the Templars assembled, the Stars and Stripes hanging over them beside the Chantry's banner. On the hills beyond, the cannons stood mute, awaiting the command to batter the wall to dust. Satisfied that we gave off the appropriate response, we waited for the gate to open.
It did, the portcullis rising slowly, and a single figure on horseback emerging from inside the settlement.
Teagan Guerrin was not a young man any more, but he possessed all the reported handsome features. Even I had heard of him, and I was never the one to care about that noble or this noble.
Before we lit the fuse on the civil war, Teagan was Ferelden's ambassador to Orlais. Although he had to return after an incident where he duelled the Empress' bodyguard with feathers of a chevalier, thus disrespecting the entire military establishment, his time in Orlais was very easy to spot. He was one of the best dressed men I had met, clothed in red and orange silks with the sigils of his family and lands along the collar. Pierre des Arbes is the only man I can think of who had better taste.
Most interestingly, Teagan was one of the highest ranking nobles in the entire country, uncle to the previous king and adoptive uncle to King Alistair, the blood of Calenhad thick in his veins, and yet, he famously married a commoner. A blacksmith named Kaitlyn.
I suspect that last detail is the reason why Julie had little problem talking to him. Even I was pleased by the parallel, though my noble blood is in fact zero.
The Arl of Redcliffe and Bann of Rainesfere rode up, his face blank to the extent I could tell it was by design, and Julie pushed Revas forward a few steps to meet him. He inclined his head in greeting. Julie returned the hello by taking her beret off.
"Arl Guerrin, I am pleased to make your acquaintance," said Julie, sticking to Orlesian, "Do you know who I am? Who we are?"
"I don't think there's a noble in Ferelden who is unaware of who you are," Teagan replied, in perfect Orlesian, "Lady Marquise."
"That will make things easy," Julie said, "You recognise Knight-Commander Barris, I hope?"
Teagan looked over at Barris, sparing me a single glance, before returning his eyes to Julie.
"I do," he said, his tone just barely remaining flat, "Vaguely."
Julie nodded. "I hope you understand that he would not be with us if he thought we had ill intentions," she continued, "We wish no harm on Ferelden."
"You are invaders," Teagan replied icily, "You have entered our realm under arms, under foreign banners, laid siege to one of our most ancient settlements, and you bring with you ideas about the destruction of our monarchy and nobility. Simply put, my lady, I do not believe you wish no harm on Ferelden. Every step you take here is harmful."
Ouch.
I sighed, having seen the defiance coming. The man was right, we were invaders. Barris began to speak, to try to plead otherwise, but Julie held up her hand and he shut up. Her authority, or her perceived authority, was growing, I noted.
"My Lord Arl," Julie replied, "We will be gone from Ferelden by the end of winter. Now, if I wanted to destroy your country, I wouldn't waste time negotiating with you over this. I would smash your wall without a word, I would send my soldiers in to kill everyone inside, I would march our army straight to Denerim and kill the King. Without an heir and without a clear successor, no rebellion could succeed."
We had decided to make sure everyone knew that we had no plans to stay in the country, but we couldn't tell them we would be leaving via Amaranthine's port. The assumption we were to promote was that we would go back to Orlais via Gherlen's Pass.
Julie rode a few steps further, Revas' white form coming alongside Teagan's brown destrier. The Arl didn't look at her, or so much as blink, as she leaned over towards him in the saddle.
"You're right about one thing," she said, "I do bring the destruction of monarchy and nobility. I may not be Ferelden's enemy, but I am your enemy, my lord. Don't dare assume my intentions, or I might confuse you for Ferelden. If you have any honour, you will at least listen to my proposal, to save your vassals from our blades."
Teagan's eyebrows twitched. It was fear, however briefly expressed. I stared at him in surprise. Being openly fearful wasn't his reputation, not by a long shot. He wasn't old enough to have cracked. He had something to protect inside the walls, I realised.
"You called this parley," he said in Common, glaring at her, "What is it you want?"
Julie rode around him, attempting to menace him as she gathered the right words, until she rejoined us. She pursed her lips, examining him.
"You are as I heard," she replied, her accent rolling the trade language as always, "Very well. You will evacuate the town to the castle. Every man, woman and child. In an hour, you open the town gates and retreat with your men to the castle too. You will stay there for two days."
"You want me to surrender the town," Teagan said, "That won't happen."
"My lord," said Barris, interrupting oncoming Julie's rebuke, "If you know who the Marquise is and what she believes, then you have heard of the powerful weapons this army has in its possession, and the many mages that march with it. It would be no dishonour to concede that you have nothing to match them."
"I will not go down in history as the man who surrendered," Teagan spat back, "Not even on the advice of a fellow Fereldan. Even if I did not value my own honour, the other nobles would see that it was the end of my house forever."
Julie turned her head to me. "Sam."
I nudged Bellona forward. "You have one hour before we bombard the walls," I said, "I beg you, get the civilians... the people who aren't going to fight, to that castle. I can't guarantee mercy for anyone who stays on the walls or in the town. Not because we wouldn't grant it, but because I'm not sure we can trust you to respect it."
Teagan narrowed his eyes at me, before they widened with recognition.
"You're him," he said, "The Outlander." He hadn't recognised me. I was dressed as any Orlesian noble, save for my UN beret. I didn't look like an alien.
I groaned, turning Bellona about. That subject wasn't one I wanted to banter about. Julie repeated that there was one hour until we began our attack, as I rode back towards the Templars. We had tried. Perhaps we could have told him why we needed to take his town, but giving him the chance to dump all the lead, smithy tools and the contents of the apothecaries into the lake wasn't something we could risk.
The conversation was over.
As you can see, no threats to burn down the town, kill the men, rape the women and children, et cetera, were made. Despite popular belief in Ferelden.
There was a more lighthearted event to come before we got to the blood.
With an hour before the attack, the pre-battle rituals of precaution began.
The Avvar Highlanders and the men of Jader moved up beside the Templars to wait, in eyeshot of the enemy. I spent a good thirty minutes watching the walls in front of the assembled force. Unfortunately, there was no sign that the longbowmen on the top of them had withdrawn. Since Redcliffe sits along the cliff-face and the walls are mostly at the top, they also blocked the view of the town. The construction of the wall itself didn't seem particularly strong, but I could pick out the carved former sections of the Highway through my binoculars.
"What are you looking for?" came a familiar voice from behind.
Tam quickly threaded her arms under my own, folding them over my chest and placing her head on my shoulder.
"He's looking to see if they're running," Julie's voice added, before the woman herself appeared with Leha. Neither in armour, although Julie had found her British firelance somewhere, it was slung over her shoulder, and she had lost her mask.
"Yeah," I said softly, "No chance. Teagan is stubborn."
"He's also afraid of something," Julie added. I put down my binos.
"Caught that, did you?" I asked.
Julie shrugged. "His face was like stone until I made a personal threat."
"He's afraid for his wife and kids," Leha said flippantly, "Like any man."
"He doesn't have kids," I said, recalling De Villars' information on him, "Just a wife. As far as anyone knows."
"That's enough," Leha yawned, "Or maybe he kept his spawn hidden. He was ambassador to Orlais, right? I'd keep my kids hidden from that lot until I got as far away from them as possible."
"So would I," Tam rumbled, drawing me closer, "If he was afraid, why did he not agree to your terms?"
"Honour," I said, with absolute certainty, "Blondie said he was one of the nobles backing Alistair even before there was a real chance of him becoming king, all because he and his brother believed that the Calenhad bloodline needed to be on the throne. For honour."
"To value honour over the lives and liberty of your people," Julie said, shaking her head, "To the Void with honour. Nobles make me sick." We had accepted a surrender of our own to save lives, after all.
"Me too," I said wholeheartedly, before checking my watch, "It's almost time."
I slapped Tam's hand lightly to get her to release me, and handed Julie the binos, wandering back to the troops. Towards my own little assault group for the day's action, to be specific, made up Armen, Ciara, Mike, Asala, and the two Avvar adjutants, Aoife and Cormac. Barris and Fisher were off with the Templars and Jaderites in the rear.
Mike, Ciara and Armen were in Earth-kevlar, although Mike's was festooned with stick grenades and cartridge pouches, as well as the firelance cradled in her arms. The stocky she-elf looked like she could take on an entire platoon single handed. Armen and Ciara stuck to their traditional weapons, staff and recurve bow respectively, with daggers for backup. Ciara was sitting on top of my backpack, inspecting her arrows. They looked ready, at least.
Mike snapped to attention, before I told her to be at ease.
Asala and the two Avvars were not, however. The latter were putting blue and white paint onto the former's startlingly naked torso. In fact, the entire Highlander regiment was busy daubing warpaint on each other, the ones nearby giving only the most cursory salutes to me as they saw me. Mike's training hadn't had much time to stick yet by that point, but it was progress in my mind. Asala's eyes looked to me, and I swear, she blushed. A Qunari with personal modesty, I thought, what a novelty. That wasn't why she had, apparently.
I thought about lecturing them on military scheduling, but realised that it would take the cannons a little while to break the walls, so Asala's apparently seemless integration into the Avvar ranks was forgiven. In fact, it reminded me that I was not ready myself. I was still dressed in a fine black cotton shirt and pants made out of I-don't-even-know-what but they were hella comfortable.
Armen, without so much as a second's consideration, commented on just that. "Off to the ball, are you?" he smirked, poking me sharply, "You might look fabulous, but that won't stop a bodkin point."
"Maybe I'll dazzle them into surrender," I shot back, unbuttoning the shirt, "You've got my stuff, right?" Armen nodded.
"Don't dazzle them," Mike said, "I have spent the last few days trying to get them to walk in a straight line together. I'd like to see if they can do it under the right circumstances."
I hummed my agreement. The mage dragged my pack out from under Ciara's butt, my armour, combat webbing and firelance with it. Our Dalish huntress stretched her arms out over her head, still clutching three arrows, and smiled at me.
"I've been talking to these Avvars," she said, "They're all eager to see what you can do. More of the 'chosen one' shit. The big one and Mother Brandon should get a room. They can talk all about how you are the saviour for hours on end, and then make love." She giggled at the thought, whereas I was probably turning a shade of blue. What a terrifying notion.
"We aim to please," I snorted, as Julie, Leha and Tam joined us. They looked at the Avvars with interest, Tam looking over Asala in particular. Our newest Qunari recruit gave a small nod of respect to Tam, sending her whispering to Julie. Speaking the secret language of women, they conspired on something beyond me.
Leha rolled her eyes and came up to me. I grinned at her intolerance.
The whole thing gave me an idea, Asala's participation I mean. I didn't only need to build trust in the Avvars among our refugees, but I also needed the Avvars to trust us, to see us as comrades. Whatever their religious leaders said, I knew that there were doubters that came along out of loyalty or curiosity. So I made a decision.
I tossed my shirt to the ground, quickly changed out of the comfortable pants and into the desert-coloured combat pants. I ignored the t-shirt and shouted at the throng of Avvars.
"Hey!" I said, "Paint me too!"
Every non-Avvar froze in place, acting like I was mad. But the Avvars appreciated it greatly. They looked among themselves, and after some shoving over who got to do it, two emerged from the mob with wooden mixing buckets. Both young women. As tall as Julie. Grey eyes. Black hair. And naked from the waist up, albeit their shoulders were covered with furs and they were painted. They brushed past the others with... indecent enthusiasm.
That had me freezing in place.
Without another word, the two grabbed fistfuls of paint, slapped it on my back and front, and began rubbing it on. After I noticed the look they were giving me, I kept my eyes firmly on the ground, not wanting to see how the others were taking this development. It really didn't help that the Avvars seemed to be massaging the paint into place, rather than just getting on with it. The one behind was going slower, probably looking at my tattoos.
I held my breath, so my thoughts didn't wander.
By the time the painting looked about half-done, Ciara parked herself in my view, with the biggest shit-eating grin, craning her head to see around the body of the Avvar in front. I let out the breath I had been holding in exasperation. She looked like she knew something I didn't. I had to ask, and luckily, the Avvars didn't speak Orlesian.
"Hey, tell me something," I mumbled to her, "Any idea why the hell these two are so damned eager?"
"Oh, I can guess," she said, leaning past and squeezing my cheek, "You Earthlings are pretty. Good skin, good teeth, big and strong. All the girls like you." She gave me a playful slap on the shoulder for good measure, like lacking a collection of interesting skin diseases was a real virtue.
I scoffed, thinking it absurd. More or less anyone from Earth shared those traits, at least those that weren't as fat as a pig. But then, I recalled the strange looks that De Villars, Soprano, Mike, even Brandon occasionally gave me. Not to mention Asala since entering Ferelden. The sort of stare that males are oblivious to, unless they're paying specific attention.
Then there were the male gazes. Let's not even go there. McNulty, you sly dog.
I got a sinking feeling in my gut that Ciara was right. I had to keep my bases covered.
"You sure it isn't some Avvar prophesy?" I asked, with increasing desperation, "Maybe I'm supposed to marry one and the kid will be King of the Mountain or something." As if I didn't have enough trouble with a mistress, a fake-wife-turned-real-wife and a magister fiancé I hadn't met.
Ciara laughed. "Nope, nothing like that," she said, "Not unless they're keeping it a secret." Fuck. I reminded myself to get with Amund after the assault.
The rubbing suddenly got sharper and more... business-like. I looked around at the Avvars, to see what the problem was. And there was Tam, looming over all four of us, arms crossed. Curved dagger inches away from her fingers, ready to draw. Her eyes boring into me like drills. The sinking feeling accelerated, and I had to increase the effort applied to keeping myself standing.
Tam was the possessive one, after all. If Julie, with all her Orlesian enthusiasm for polyamory, wasn't to sleep around, there was no way in hell I was. The restrained breaths behind me were undoubtedly Julie's attempt at stifling laughter.
Ah, to be in love.
Both of the Avvars came forward to do my face, kneading my neck, cheeks and forehead, softly touching up my eyelids. Voila, I was painted up like William damned Wallace. I thanked them with haste, and pulled my armour over my head, not bothering with the t-shirt and jacket despite the cold, followed by the combat webbing and my firelance. Figured that there was no point covering up more than that, after what I had just been through. It's not like a jacket could stop arrows.
"Having fun, my lord?" asked Mike, making her reappearance.
"He is," said Julie with amusement.
"Too much," Leha grumbled. Out of jealousy. Korbin was a day's march behind us, so the Legion wouldn't be confused as part of our army.
"Maybe I should put on war paint too?" Armen mused, earning a smack on the helmet from Ciara.
Still, I think the whole episode relieved a lot of tension over the battle to come, so at the end of the day, I had achieved exactly what I had set out to do in getting painted up in the first place.
"You haven't seen fun yet," I said, checking my watch, "It's time, General. Stand to."
"Formez les rangs!" Mike shouted, her voice carrying with its usual strength. The two Avvars who had painted me spared me a longing look, setting their older compatriots Aoife and Cormac laughing as all four of them ran off to join the surprisingly neat formation of warriors. They might salute like a bunch of slovenly muppets, but they sure as shit formed a line of battle like they had been born to it. Asala approached and nodded to Mike, the two sharing a moment of professional appreciation.
I slapped my hands together and rubbed warmth into them for a moment, very pleased at this development. I activated my radio.
"Attack elements," I said, "Sound off." More or less standard procedure.
"Highlanders, ready," said Mike beside me.
"Templars, ready," Barris said.
"We're ready too," Fisher said on behalf of the Jaderites, more uncertainly. I put the hesitation down to his less than military bearing, and took him at his word.
"Batteries two and three, ready to commence," droned Locke, the Tranquil in charge of the artillery.
"Alrighty then," I said, pulling on gloves, "Artillery, fire at designated targets."
The gunners had been ordered to load five minutes before zero hour, and were ready to shoot. From two hilltops to the rear, the cannons thundered in a steady beat. The bolts whirled through the air above us to either side, the Fire Wyrm's Call announcing to all what was happening. The solid rounds smacked into the wall, the crack of the rock whipping out. The face began to collapse, sending those manning the defences scrambling away.
No match for cannon, I thought, but it would still take a while to rubble enough of the thing to make a wide enough breach.
A great cheer erupted from the Avvar, this being the first time they had ever seen blackpowder weapons in action. Their shields and swords raised, they roared insults towards the defenders and encouragements to their comrades. Including me.
At least I knew I had their loyalty.
It took ten minutes for the first part of the wall to come down completely, and another twenty to reduce the gatehouse and the entire section we intended to enter through. Julie, Tam and Leha eventually went to watch from higher up, leaving us to it.
Once the job was done, I brought my binos up. The Fereldans had fled from sight, clearly liking their chances better in the nooks and crannies of the cliff faces and in the town's streets. Or so it appeared. The problem was that the main thoroughfare snaked down the hillside beyond from where the walls formerly stood, behind a razor-sharp escarpment. But, I didn't have the patience to screw around.
"Advance," I ordered, "Slow march."
The sergeants shouted the command in a clear tone, and the Avvars walked forwards, maintaining their shieldwall. Something they were very good at even if the neat ranks were something new. Mike was out in front of them, firelance at the ready, Asala guarding her back armed in the same way the Avvars were. Satisfied, I turned to Armen and Ciara.
"We're going on ahead," I said, putting on my helmet, "I have a feeling the way isn't wide open."
"Sounds like something for us," Ciara grinned back, nudging Armen forwards.
Together, we jogged until we reached the pile of stone that used to be an impressive enough fortification. I could see over to the path behind it. I selected a nice big rock on the other side, where I could see over the town without being seen from the left, where the path began its way down the hill. I pointed to my two companions, and made the right hand signal. Ciara and Armen climbed the rubble, readying their weapons, Ciara nocking an arrow. Armen gave an A-Okay with his own hand, and I nodded.
The two took two paces forward and turned left, just into view of the road, and loosed their weapons. Ciara's first arrow breathed away, and Armen's lightning crashed down from the skies at random, covering my own move. I broke into a sprint, straight across to the stone, not looking. As I suspected, the arrows of a prepared defence hissed by, just as I made it to cover. A little too close for comfort, in fact.
I checked that the two elves hadn't been hit themselves, and seeing they hadn't, peered around the rock. Ahead was a prepared position, in defiliade... that is to say, they'd hit any large force from the side before it could turn, and there was no way I could call down the cannon on top of it, there was solid rock in the way. At the back, right on the curve of the sharp turn was a half-broken watchtower, manned with longbowmen. In front of it was a barricade of cheval-de-frise, wooden spikes sticking out of a central plank, protecting what had to be at least a thousand men in close formation.
Teagan was no fool. He had bet that the walls would be useless, but that he had far more chances up close. Even the firelancers would have had trouble dealing with such a set up, the turn from the gatehouse meaning they couldn't use the range of their weapons effectively. The longbows would have softened them up for the survivors below to charge home.
I checked and saw that the Avvars were beginning to climb over the rubble themselves.
"Mike, we've got a prepared defensive line around the corner, longbows and barricades," I said over the radio, "We'll cover you, get the Avvars turned around towards the enemy."
"Yes, my lord," Mike replied.
"Marquis, maybe my Templars should go first?" Barris asked, "We have heavy armour, the arrows won't touch us."
"You have your own task, Knight-Commander," Mike retorted, "We need to blood these troops."
"Agreed," I said, stopping the argument before it started, "Move, General. Armen and Ciara, get over here."
I stood up from the rock and took aim with my firelance, the longbows my target. One or two began to point me out to the others from the tower, but I had them cold. I pulled the trigger, my weapon flashed, and a tracer round flew out, piercing the man's chest. Still, the archers stood, nocking arrows. A flick of my thumb, and I switched to full automatic. I laid down a stream into the open spaces of the second floor of the tower, splintering the wooden supports to the inaccessible top floor and perforating more bodies. They finally decided that standing up was a dumb shit move, and I shot until I emptied the magazine to keep it that way.
The pat on my shoulder told me that Armen and Ciara had made it to my back. Nice.
Mike had moved the Avvars double time too, they swung around like a door and their shieldwall was across the road, ending about four feet away from me. The archers were beginning to recover, peeking out from the walls. Giving them time to get their heads together wasn't the plan.
"Highlanders!" I shouted, foregoing the comms, "CHARGE!"
The Avvars didn't know the rebel yell, so their warcry was deep and resounding, sort of like a wave. They moved like a wave too, unstoppable and in perfect harmony as a unit. Mike led the way, the idiot, bayonet fixed. Good thing she had Asala to put a shield in front of her as needed.
The barricade was seized in hands and simply flipped out of the way, off the cliff, by sheer human power. The melee began, those in front concentrating on the fighting, those further back holding their shields over their heads. The Avvars pushed forward, step by step. Elated that I had overcome the first of Teagan's gambits, I pumped my fist in the air in triumph, and prepared to join the fighting, ducking down and reloading.
Arrows hissed down around the rock, skittering off the surface and sticking into the soft mud. I flinched, having no reason before then to think they'd still be aimed at me. Armen gave a throaty laugh at my shock. "You got their attention," he said, "Want me to take care of it?"
"Please," I said, cocking my firelance.
Together, we stood up, and I laid down more bullets to stop the next volley of arrows. The tip of Armen's spear-staff produced a bubble of fire the size of my head. He drew it back and shoved it forwards, and the bubble shot out, over the close quarters fighting. It landed right inside the watchtower, and from there, a gout of flames burst from every inch of the building. The archers jumped away, set ablaze, screaming, falling to their deaths. The survivors rolled about, trying desperately to staunch the fire.
That was... unpleasant. One of the things that hangs around in my dreams, on occasion.
I had hoped the Fereldans below would be sent running at such a sight, but no, they held on. Desperately, stubbornly, irrationally. It made no sense! Were they not afraid of being cooked alive. My head swung around, as I looked for some way to break the stalemate. The Templars and the Men of Jader were filing over the rubble now, but their numbers wouldn't do much good in the enclosed path. Pissed off, I looked down the cliff face, to where the path ran below us. It was too steep to put anyone in armour down it, even though bare trees hugged the sides.
And finally, I saw the reason why the Fereldans were holding out through the branches.
The town was being set on fire.
No doubt those who had stayed behind to stop us were volunteers for what they must have felt was a suicide mission, and they would fight to the very last. Meanwhile, the Arl seemed to have figured out that we wanted supplies, and he was to deny us them. He hadn't started burning down the docks, where the ships and fishing boats remained moored, but they were the least of the prizes we had planned to take that day. I reflected that if we had attacked immediately after the parley, we might have prevented it. It was my fault.
I kicked the rock I had been hiding behind hard, cursing loudly and repeatedly in every language I knew a curse word in.
"My lord?" came Barris' voice, "Are you alright?" He had joined us without my notice, and I turned towards him violently. Fisher was with him, wide-eyed.
"Your countrymen are too smart by half!" I replied through my teeth, "They're burning down the town, we need to get through to it now!"
I activated my comms.
"Mike, use your grenades," I said, "Blow a cart-sized hole through the Fereldans, pour your Avvars into it, and kill them all. They're burning the god damned town." We had thought to keep them for the town itself, where the tangle of buildings might make things difficult.
"Copy," came the ragged reply.
"Come on," I said to my companions, "We need to get ahead of this."
We edged along the top of the cliff face, one behind the other, with me in front, until we reached the point where the turn made the side into a sheer drop. I levelled my firelance and waited for my order to be carried out.
A minute later, I saw the clutch of grenades tossed into the middle of the Fereldans, smoking in the cold air as they flew, before they disappeared into the throng. Seconds later, they exploded with dull thuds among the legs of the enemy. The middle of the Fereldan formation fell onto their stomachs, dead or with limbs lost, the air filled with cries and moans of pain.
Yeah... not a good memory.
The Avvar Highlanders surged forwards, shoving aside those directly in front of the injured and bulging through the gap. Only now did the Fereldans decide to run, but it was their own doom. They didn't have the numbers to cover each other, and the chase was short-lived. Axes and swords fell on unprotected backs, kicks delivered to legs to trip over those fleeing. After that, it was simply a matter of handing out the coup de grace, which was mercy for a lot of those who had been knocked to the ground by their injuries. Swords were thrust through hundreds of hearts, the full weight of those wielding them applied to break through the chainmail and splintmail armour.
My nose and mouth filling with the stench of iron and loosened bowels, I resisted my gag reflex with practised ease dropped down onto the path once more and made my way through the bodies. Armen didn't quite make it, emptying his breakfast onto the ground. Frowning, I gave him my water flask to wash out his mouth, though he wretched afterwards.
The Avvars were a lot quieter now. Most had never seen this sort of combat. They would come to terms with it in time, in their own ways. The lesson that real war is a meatgrinder is always hard.
I found Mike and Asala, splattered with blood. They saluted, sending the entire section of Highlanders doing the same.
"Your orders, my lord?" Asala said, seemingly unaffected by the violence around her. A result of conditioning, according to Tam.
"We follow the plan," I said to the commanders, not really thinking that adding 'good work' was the best thing in the context, "Mike, Highlanders to cover the causeway to the castle. Barris, Templars to the chantries and cover the streets. Fisher, your boys and girls need to get down to the docks and make sure those fires don't destroy the ships. Wounded to the rear."
I didn't wait for their reply, I just started walking swiftly around the curve in the path and down towards the town. I had my own personal mission now. Ciara and Armen followed.
"What about us?" Ciara asked, having to job to keep up with my longer strides.
"We need to save the apothecary supplies," I said, "Or else Tam and a whole bunch of other people might be dead."
I broke into a sprint as the path levelled off and curved away from the cliff. The lingering blood and guts smell finally gave way to acrid smoke, as the fires began to really get burning. I passed by several housing blocks; they didn't have signs advertising any business, so I knew it would be pointless to worry about them. The road split off and went down to the docks at one point. Some of the piers were on fire now, but they looked like they could be saved in time. I pressed on.
At a crossroads with a griffon statue dedicated to the Hero of Ferelden, the merchant district began, and I heard shouting. Using the statue as cover, I came about and aimed at the ruckus.
A group of three soldiers in chainmail with lit torches were arguing with a middle-aged woman, on the doorstep of what had to be the town tavern, a large building with a sign showing a bird and a lantern. I wanted to eliminate the soldiers, but I didn't have a shot that ruled out hitting the woman. Thinking that maybe I could take her alive to get directions to the apothecaries' shops, I began approaching, weapon raised, Ciara and Armen padding softly behind me.
The crackle of the fires were covering our approach well, and the soldiers didn't hear a thing.
"I'm not letting you burn down the tavern!" the woman shouted, "There's nothing the Orlesians need in here anyway!"
"There's ale," the leader of the soldiers said back, "And food. This is your last warning. Get out of our way." He drew his sword. I immediately felt hatred burn up in my throat, strangely enough.
"That won't be necessary!" I called, coming to a halt about twenty yards away.
The woman screamed before the soldiers even got to see me, correctly identifying the man in Avvar warpaint as the enemy. Either the sight of us or the scream, perhaps both, stunned the soldiers. I stitched the leader with two quick shots to the chest, and felt pretty good about it afterwards. His compatriot to the left took a white-fletched arrow to the eye from Ciara, and the soldier on the right didn't glimpse us before Armen struck him with a lightning bolt. They fell dead in a heap over each other.
The woman fell backwards, and began scrambling away like that towards the door, desperately trying to get as far from us as she could. I strode over the heap, and easily caught her by the shoulder, levelling the barrel of my firelance at her torso as a threat.
"Where are the apothecaries' shops?" I asked, "The healers?"
The woman jabbered, blinking and sweating. I gave her time to answer. She didn't seem to be capable of speech, but she pointed at a building across the space, back the way we came. It just looked like a house to me, but it was definitely one of the first buildings set alight telling by the extent of its blaze, so I took her as being sincere. Fear is very good at loosening tongues.
I released my grasp on her clothing. "Get to the Chantry," I told her, "It will be safe there. We will not harm anyone there."
She nodded rapidly, getting to her feet unsteadily but with great speed. She took off in the direction of the nearest chapel. I wished her all the luck in the world with a little wave, and told my companions the good news. Barris and his Templars entered the square as we returned across it.
"There are still soldiers and civilians about," I warned him as I passed by, "Be careful. We're going to try and save the healers' supplies."
"Understood, we'll make sure to think before we act," Barris acknowledged. He urged his troops on faster, following the street the tavern woman had taken.
As we got closer, Armen quickly summoned an ice blast to deal with the external fire on the apothecary's house, hosing it down almost like a real firefighter. Ice wasn't really an element he called on very often, so I was pretty wowed by his technique. Unfortunately, Ciara wandered up to the front door outside of my notice. She kicked in the door, as she had seen me do before. Bad idea.
The fire inside burst forth, throwing her a couple of feet backwards and setting her armour on fire. Armen quickly redirected his magic briefly to save her, as I ran to try and help. Her face was raw red and smoking, burned along her right side, the door having sheltered the other. She groaned, looking up at the sky aimlessly.
"Oh no," said Armen, quickly bringing his healing magic to her face, "No, no, no..."
"Is she going to be fine?" I asked.
Armen bit his tongue, his lips spreading in concentration. "She'll live," she said, "But if I don't keep this healing up, she'll be scarred for life." I knew he would love her regardless, and Ciara wasn't the vain type, but having to live with people looking at you due to such a thing wasn't easy. I had friends back on Earth who lived just such a life. One or two couldn't take it.
"Do what you have to," I said, standing up. Armen thanked me quietly, and threw all his magical power into the spell, the light filling the misty air. He was beyond reaching in such a state.
I watched the apothecary's house, as the roof caved in. There was no saving it now. There was still a chance some of the materials inside were in containers that would save them from the blaze, but I wouldn't be able to find out for some hours.
I fixed my radio mouthpiece, and changed channels. "This is Hunt," I said, "I need Markham down here in the market square near the griffon statue. Ciara's been burned."
"Maker..." Julie replied, "We'll send him right away. Is the town intact?"
"No," I said, "But I think we can get most of what we needed anyway... everything except the herbs to hold off the Taint."
"Oh..." Julie said. We both knew what that might mean.
I felt anger bubble up inside me, and my legs took me almost on their own accord back the way we had come. Through the inferno of the housing district, towards the causeway to Redcliffe Castle. Fisher's men ran past towards the docks. I said nothing to them, but noted it. I continued walking, as if I was in a dream. The haze of the fires helped the effect.
The Avvars spotted me as I approached, cheering and calling out Mike and Asala to see me. Finally, I arrived at a conclusion. Something I had to do.
"Any sign?" I asked, throwing a look at the castle. It was very large, more or less impregnable without heavy artillery. Which we had.
"None," Mike said.
"I'm going over there," I said.
"You're what?" Asala gasped, "Alone? What for?"
"I need to have words with Teagan," I said, moving through the troops.
"Let me come," Asala said.
"No," I replied.
No one dared contradict me. I was in that mood. I soon found myself walking along the bridge over the section of cliffs, the portcullis of the castle standing wide open. I turned off my radio and pulled off my helmet. The bridge had a great view of the port and the burning town. All the better for my purposes. I reached the middle of the span and stopped, the archers between the crenellations catching my eye.
"TEAGAN GUERRIN!" I shouted, hurting my throat, "GET OUT HERE!"
The man himself appeared seconds later, this time dressed in half-plate and wearing a helmet, a longsword by his side. The Fereldan Mabaris etched onto the shining metal on his chest and painted in red. My blood boiled, but I waited.
"What is it?" he said, as he came up, "Have I wrecked all your well thought out plans?" He wasn't smiling, despite his words of provocation. His tone was resentful.
"You think you're real smart," I snarled, "Sacrificing your own men, so you could organise this... sabotage."
"Your Commoner Marquise is a good liar," Teagan replied, "But it makes no sense for you to waste your time with Redcliffe unless we had something you need. I guessed it was food. Word of your exile arrived from my Orlesian contacts a day before I set out against the Avvars... although perhaps you are an Avvar now? You look like one. Once I found that you had arrived over the Frostbacks, I knew you would need food. No way you could have carried it through those mountain passes."
Assumptions that were dead wrong, thank the Maker.
"You sacrificed your men for nothing," I said.
The Arl's cheeks dropped a few degrees of red. "What?" he asked.
I have to admit taking exquisite pleasure in this moment. Seeing Ciara burned had put the devil in me.
"We didn't come here for food," I said clearly, "We came here for lead, steel and those ships sitting there by the piers." I pointed off to the right, towards the docks. From here, Fisher's men looked like ants swarming over pieces of driftwood, but they had saved the ships from the fires, anchoring them safely in the middle of the harbour. No need for him to know he had succeeded in stopping me from getting what I needed the most, at least from a personal standpoint.
Teagan looked on in complete silence.
"You could have saved every last life in this town and in your army," I said, "If you had only listened to the offer that my dear wife proposed."
Teagan's head dropped, but only for a moment. When it rose again, his eyes were as aflame as the town.
"No, I couldn't have," he said, "Your wife and her army are Orlesian. Ferelden will never accept your presence here, especially now that you've allied with the Avvars. Ferelden will never believe that you are here only until the end of winter. We must fight you."
"Then I will gladly oblige," I said, "If you force me to, I will make this country into a fucking graveyard in order to save my people. Believe, asshole."
The Arl didn't seem to get the exact reference, Andrastians don't have graveyards, but the message got through loud and clear.
"Even if you kill me, more formidable opponents will rise," he said, "King Alistair has fought worse than you. You're only a man."
We stared at each other for several minutes. How could I possibly reply to that? Sure, he was instrumental in defeating the Archdemon, but did I really care? I had weapons that could kill one more or less instantly, and more to the point, I had watched a friend get hurt because of this. Not to mention men and women loyal to me put their lives on the line. Because of this bastard's stubborn national pride.
I was so consumed, that I didn't notice the small figure run up behind him.
"I'll help you, Uncle!" said a child's voice.
A fireball erupted from his side, shooting towards me and splattering across my face. I staggered backwards, my hands flying in front of my eyes by instinct. But seconds later, I felt no pain, and my sight was not gone. I glanced back towards Teagan.
A little girl of about nine or ten years in familiar robes stood in front of him.
"Rowan!" he shouted, "Get back!"
Eamon Guerrin's mage daughter by his dead Orlesian wife, I realised. After the business that had happened in the very castle behind them during the Fifth Blight, the son had been killed... an event which shall intersect with my own tale, as reluctant as I am to tell it.
"How's he not on fire?" little Rowan shot back, ignoring the command, "I've been practicing!"
I walked towards them. Teagan drew his longsword, pulling the girl into cover behind him.
"So this is what you were afraid we would find," I said, "Understandable."
"Keep back, you demon," he growled, as two Templars ran out of the castle to retrieve their charge.
"I am not a demon," I said, crossing my arms, "But this is convenient. Now that you've seen exactly what you're dealing with, I have a message for your king. Stay out of our way. We were not lying when we said that we would be gone by the end of winter."
I looked directly at the little girl. "Good luck, Rowan," I said, "I hope we can meet again."
She stuck her tongue out at me, and hid behind her uncle.
I felt the hatred and anger evaporate in me, an effect that children are uniquely capable of inspiring and with nothing left to say, I wandered back across the bridge.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: A nice, fat 11k chapter for you guys, because this story is going into hiatus until I complete Battlefield 2183. Should only take a month or so. Lots in it for you guys to chew over for a while too. I'll be giving it an edit soon, I just wanted to get it out there quick.
In the mean time, the first two chapters of the Outlanders side story are up. The tale of how the First Outlander arrived, Marcus Tiberius Pansa, in particular. I hope you enjoy that.
In other news, this story is now on the first page of the Dragon Age part of this site according to followers, which tickles my ego greatly.
Enjoy!
Katkiller-V: I hope this lives up to your very fine standards.
5 Coloured Walker: Hardball initiated.
Mages can take down boats, sure, but it's not a case of boats being utterly defenceless. Mages don't generally have much range to their abilities. Bows, crossbows, ballistas and firearms are generally better. Almost none of the former Circle mages have ever been on a ship either, you have to remember. And the Qunari are the Qunari.
Sammyboy47: What I have in mind for the geography of the new country is more or less set now... i.e. where it will be exactly.
Free Orlais came to being in a great hurry, so a lot of the necessary stuff didn't get done out of sheer time constraints. Sam did have an intelligence network; Leha's Carta connections. Problem is that they weren't loyal strictly to Free Orlais and they were mostly passing on rumours and some map information, not spying or keeping tabs on the royal military.
Law enforcement is a matter that's going to come up in this volume.
I considered Gurkhas and Prussians for the side stories. More or less, I decided that they'd end up dead fairly quickly. The German war engineer is Prussian, in fact, but he's from before Prussia became a real power. The Gurkha is also not European, and depending on the era, might not speak a European language. Keijiro spoke English, so he can communicate easily enough. I still might write some chapters for either possibility, but only as one-shots. I needed people who could interact with the existing canon in more interesting ways. There doesn't seem to be places to fit either in. I'm not sure if Nevarra counts as Germany in Thedas, and I have no idea where I'd put a Gurkha.
Makurayami: 1. Yes, there will be migrant Tal Vashoth involved. They're going to the Free Marches, it's more or less inevitable.
2. Haha, Belgium? Not sure that's the comparison I'd make. It isn't the one in my head.
Thepkrmgc: The Qunari are the third foe, yes. Looking forward to writing about the new nation, very much so.
Stormtide Leviathan: Merci!
OBSERVER01: You've reviewed so many times that my OpenOffice autocompletes your name for me, congrats haha
Yeah, Private Sexy done goofed.