Outlander

by GreaterGoodIreland

A United Nations Peacekeeper without knowledge of the games is transported to Thedas. Unsure if he will ever be able to return, he is sucked into the conflicts of Thedas as he tries to survive with his new companions and build a new world.

43. Chapter 43: Broken Circle

Chapter Forty-Three: Broken Circle

The army spent the first afternoon and evening of our brief occupation of Redcliffe productively. They started by burning the dead, then putting out fires and gutting the town for everything we needed, the NCOs given extensive lists of anything to look out for. Much of what we needed was unharmed. The tanners' and smithies were typically down by the lake in their own quarter like in most places, where the smell could blow away on the breeze and where water was easily sourced.

Ferelden is and was a country that lives and dies on the export of raw materials. Everything from wood and food, through leather and steel ingots, to rare herbs for everything between healing and aphrodisiacs. Pretty much every piece of leather in the Army had actually come from Redcliffe or Amaranthine originally, the Eastern Dales being far closer to either than the northern plains where such industry dominates in Orlais. Gaspard's chevaliers were also typically ranchers, an irony I'm sure my people would appreciate.

Seeing the two Chantry chapels stripped of their lead piping and external ornaments to make rifle shot was a highlight in an otherwise terrible day, particularly as the two Revered Mothers in the town graciously bowed to Grand-Cleric Brandon's order to allow it. There were actually more Templars in the town than we had with us, another legacy of the events of the Fifth Blight.

Of course, the herbs we needed to fend off the Taint growing through the veins of Tam and the infected Grenadiers, both irreplaceable for different reasons, had burned down. Some of what we needed had been safe in chests, so we managed to retrieve them, but having only part of the ingredients was simply not good enough. Tam had to physically restrain Julie from ordering Redcliffe Castle destroyed by cannonade, which she did with her customary ease. I switched between wanting to order it myself and feeling that Rowan Guerrin shouldn't pay for the sins of her uncle, before settling on the latter.

Compounding my worries was the fact that I had no idea how Ciara was doing. Armen was the only one that Markham had allowed into the medical tent where she was resting. In fact, he had sent a runner with a message making it perfectly clear he didn't care how immune to magic I was, if I darkened the tent entrance, he would blast my ass straight out of it. In retrospect, he was dead right. He didn't need me hovering while he worked. Didn't make me feel any better though.

We left the wagon train outside the walls for the most part, guarded by some of the regular regiments, and brought the civilians into the ashes of the town to sleep for the night. There were still enough useful buildings, and clearing the burned wood to allow tents was easy with so much help to do it. We managed to scrounge even more resources out of it too. The denizens of Redcliffe that had remained in the chapels to hide from us were left there, under the protection of both their own Templars and ours.

The tavern we had saved from being burned turned out to be the only one that had remained standing, and so became our headquarters. The owner returned from the Chantry, suddenly full of confidence now that she was sure we wouldn't kill her, and demanded we pay for everything. The rooms, the ale, the food. We agreed, and booked out the place solid for two days on our own dime, except for the largest room, which Leha paid for out of the treasury for use as a war-room. Needless to say, the tavern lady didn't get near that again for the rest of our stay.

Leha herself would not be staying with us in the tavern that night. The Legion of the Dead had caught up with us during the day, and were camped out a mile or two to the west. Korbin was being careful to avoid looking like he was associating Orzammar with the Free Army, despite our very real cooperation. His tinctures were the only thing keeping those with the Taint alive.

It was due to all these things that I didn't get a very good sleep, curled up with Tam and Julie though I was. Ciara, the Taint, the damn supplies, even the weather as rain battered the town in the night. It all weighed heavily on my mind. I eventually did get to sleep, I was exhausted, but it was late nonetheless.

---

I woke up the next day around noon, far later than intended and in a daze, cold enough to regret it. Confused in my half-awake state, I groped around the furs, looking for Tam or Julie. One or both usually a good source of warmth. Neither were present. I found a piece of paper, which I didn't read at once. I gathered the furs around me some more first.

The damn thing was written in that scribbling dwarf script that our entire movement had never really used to begin with, and that I have never entirely got my head around. A joke on Julie's part. I lay deciphering the thing for several minutes before my mind cleared and its meaning did too.

"Enjoy the sleep," I read aloud, "We'll see you later." And then a bunch of details on what they planned to do, most of it their own business, in case I wanted to find them when I got up.

Pleased that I had been allowed my sleep, yet cursing the cold, I got up and tossed some wood into the embers still alive in the fireplace, giving the whole thing a good poke with the crude, dirty metal rod that they had for that purpose. I could have just dressed and got on with things, but the temperature was biting into my bones for some reason. Regardless, the furs kept me until the fire got going again, warming my hands and feet before washing up a little with water and a cloth, then getting into the most fur-lined clothes I had.

Winter was arriving quickly, I thought, more so than I had planned. It would probably only be weeks before the rain turned to snow. Another enemy to fight.

Sighing, I put on my combat webbing by force of habit, grabbed my firelance, and exited, down the corridor, past the two bored looking guards, to the common area.

The hearth there was positively blazing, the entire room smelling of wood smoke and cooking meat and beer. Which explained why it was packed with off-duty soldiers, mud dried on the bottom of their pants but scraped off their footwear. Mostly Rangers, if the firelances stacked in threes by the furthest wall were any evidence. They were all turned towards the fire whether they were sitting or standing at the edges, letting it warm their faces, holding cups of ale.

Away from me, in fact. I watched for a moment, enjoying the scene. Reminded me of my own off hours, when I was just a grunt in Afghanistan. I made to go to the counter to my left, where the landlady was eyeing me, to get something to eat, but Sergeant Shovels spotted me. I stopped dead.

"Atten-tion!" he shouted, "The Marquis is present!"

The entire congregation rose and turned in a great clamour, only the younger heads turning first to see if the sergeant's call was true. They stood and saluted, before keeping their hands to their sides. Eyes watching me, as if for a command. A testament to Mike's success as a training officer. I had already decided on giving the whole army a rest, something they hadn't had since the Wolf's Lair. Besides, I had slept in, wasn't like I could lead by example that day.

"At ease," I said, "As you were."

My soldiers sat down again, sparing me thankful glances and directing less kindly ones at the sergeant. Not that he cared. Nor did I, continuing towards the countertop where the landlady awaited. Dressed a long dress with the sleeves rolled up. Her hands were clean, at least, which is more than you can say for a lot of tavern workers. She quietly awaited my order, eyeing my firelance. She recognised me without the Avvar warpaint.

"Some bread, cheese and meat," I said with maximum politeness, "How much will that be?"

"Four bits," she squeaked back.

I began rummaging in a pocket for the coppers, finding the necessary amount with ease among a fistful of gold and silver coins. Part of my own reserves that I kept on my person. The landlady's look went from fearful, practically chewing off her own lip, to greedy, a faux-smile plastered quickly across any glimpse of the former. I smiled back, amused at how easily a little hold can cheer someone up, and gave her the coppers.

"We do roasts in the evening, m'lord," she added, growing in confidence, "A silver a pop, but very good."

To be honest, the thought of that had me salivating. "Sign me up," I said, practically throwing the silver at her.

"Very good, m'lord," she replied happily, "Come back at about sunset." I gave her a thumbs up, which she raised an eyebrow at, before going back to get my breakfast.

I turned about and leaned back on the counter, watching the room again, hungry as hell. It occurred to me that the whole place could use some music. Taverns like this usually had someone who could play, as I discovered on the march against our Orlesian enemies. I was wondering whether or not to send a runner to the Chantry to ask about it, when my plate arrived. I leaned to the side and began idly cutting the two pieces of bread I had received, wondering why the landlady had gotten clear without even waiting for a thank you.

The reason slid along the bar to sit beside me shortly.

Mariette de Villars was very much Louise's cousin, and yet wasn't. Their physical traits spoke of their common blood, obviously. Blonde hair, blue eyes, tall height for a lady. The grey silk doublet and pants with black hunting boots were also reminiscent of old Skull Mask's restrained colour palette. But Mariette's demeanour spoke of a life far away from hill towns under constant attack by Avvar raiders. Don't get me wrong, Louise was graceful and looked great in a dress. She could play in that world with ease. She was Orlesian nobility. But Louise was a chevalier. A professional field soldier. All the finery was secondary to her life.

Even before I knew Mariette's story, I could tell this was a woman who lived in the world of balls, dinner occasions, palaces. Or, in other words; intrigue and murder among the wealthy. It was the way she carried herself. Her cousin was like me: straight, efficient movements. Mariette practically floated when she walked, never sacrificing an ounce of grace even while running. That was what was required on the battlefields she walked on.

Another form of war required another form of warrior. The bards specialised in it, and Mariette was a harlequin, the bard's militarised sister. This was the woman who had charged my firelance and lived, after all.

So to say I was wary of her was an understatement.

Mariette said nothing while I began making a sandwich, she just watched with those baby blues of hers. I watched right back, pointedly keeping the knife I had used to cut the bread in my hand. I bit into the sandwich and leaned back again, chewing happily.

"Do they always do that?" Mariette asked, "Stand up and make that sign up against their foreheads when you enter a room?"

I swallowed my food a little earlier than I would have liked, and looked at her. She awaited an answer, watching me with raised brow and slightly pursed lips, her hand one over the other. She was acting, I guessed. Wanted something else. It would fit her character. Still, I didn't see the harm in answering.

"And when the other officers enter," I replied, "At least, the Peacekeepers do. The rest of the army have a little less rear echelon manners." They saluted as we passed maybe, but get up from a fire and some ale? Couldn't see many of even Mike's pike and crossbow cohorts doing that with consistency. Those who had been with us the longest probably would, but we had to skip a lot of the formalism when we were training people up. Time constraints required that we concentrate on more directly useful discipline.

"You know the only one who receives such a welcome in Orlais is the Emperor?" Mariette continued, "And the false Empress." This time her eyebrows rose ever higher, her face inching closer to my ear.

I rolled my eyes. To say such a thing was waving red flag to a bull, or so she thought. That she supported Gaspard over Celene. She was testing me.

"They're both false," I shrugged, "Neither have any real right to rule, except they can raise armies to crush people who say so."

"And yet, they do rule," Mariette said softly, "It works."

"Tyranny works," I mused aloud, "Who knew?"

"What do you call everyone standing up for you?" Mariette half-whispered, "How would you describe everyone here hanging on your wife's every word?"

I frowned. We were fleeing a country to get to another, while in hostile territory. It was madness to think we were in this for to have people bowing and scraping at our feet, I thought. We did what we did because we didn't want to live in that sort of world, and I had to be dragged into it once Julie and Armen had already made their move.

"Exceptional people will always rule unexceptional people," she continued, moving still closer, "You are … exceptional by every measure. Deserved of the esteem and loyalty you possess. There is no shame in enjoying it, embracing it."

Ah, I thought, so that is where the conversation was headed.

Mariette quickly plucked the knife from my hand, my only defence at such a short distance gone, twirling it through her fingers in front of me, sending my heart racing with the fear that she'd plant it in my neck. It ended up in the wood of the countertop, leaving it sticking out.

"I know we did not meet in the best circumstances," she whispered, "But if you want to get even, I could do something far more pleasurable than what occurred the last time we were this close. If you would like."

By now, you probably understand that this was a particular vice of mine. The honeypot. I ran my eyes over her, once, mind briefly overtaken by the madness all men possess, but it wasn't very hard to return to something like reason. This was a woman who tried to kill me. This was Louise's cousin. Most importantly, I wasn't exactly lacking for lovers or people I loved. But Mariette crept ever closer, half way to embracing me by the time I snapped out of it. I held her back, gently. Luckily, the only one watching seemed to be the landlady.

"You're good," I said, looking straight at her, "And it was a nice try. But I'm not interested."

Mariette's smile fell away. "Not even a little?" she asked flatly.

"Okay, maybe a little," I smirked back, "You're a beautiful woman. But let's face it. You're in it for the power. You admitted as much."

She proceeded to put on the most Orlesian huff I ever did see, crossing her arms and turning her head away. "You have no idea what you are missing out on, Marquis," she said, "I will not forget this insult."

"Oh, I'm sure you'd find new and interesting ways to please me," I replied laughing, "It's just that we'd both be dead afterwards, and I'd probably feel it justified myself."

"Is your commoner Marquise's wrath really worth missing out on such a thing?" she asked, "Or is it the Qunari you fear?"

"In your case, I'd be far more afraid of Julie," I shrugged, "Besides, it's not just about fear. I care about them. I could not accept your offer and feel good about myself afterwards. Sleeping around like this isn't really how we do things where I am from." I am still amazed at how easily I fell into the current arrangement.

Mariette lay her hand on my arm, eyes wide with something I couldn't identify. "But it is how we do things in Orlais," she said, "Marriage is for increasing our wealth and power, our bodies are for pleasure and connections... Perhaps I could speak to the Marquise. She is Orlesian, and I hear she was once the lover of Baron des Arbes. I am sure she would understand the value of you having a loyal ally in your bed."

My jaw worked a little as I realised what she was doing. She was attempting to apologise as much as she was attempting to work herself into the inner circle of the army leadership. I rubbed my face, frustrated I hadn't seen it before. She was a de Villars above all else. Honour meant something to her, even as an assassin. It is a particular trait of that family to square their political objectives with good conduct, even today.

"I don't think that would be wise," I replied at last, "The Marquise is just as likely to take you to bed herself." And that would be taking advantage, I thought. But the underlying principle didn't really get through.

Mariette smiled, her eyes rolling upwards in thought. "Perhaps I should explore that," she said, "If you are unwilling. I do prefer men, but I get my joy where I can find it."

Now she was just teasing. For her sake, I hoped so. I groaned. There was also Tam. Would she react at all? She was the possessive one, but she also came from a society that understood the need for … relief. I had the sneaking suspicion she would not object as long as permission was sought and boundaries laid, but it wasn't like we were chaste at the time either. All the more reason to avoid the scenario.

Regardless, the whole conversation had diverted me from all my worries for a few minutes, so I found my opinion of Mariette higher than it was before. Deciding to ambush her, I took her hands. She breathed out in surprise.

"You don't need to think about before," I said, referring to the attempted assassination, "I have lots of things to worry about, and you've cheered me up. Help us, and you have a place with us. Got it?" If she was going to be around, I sure as hell wanted her on my side. I could not forgive Asala, and banish Mariette. They had both fought against me. Besides, anyone who can charge a machinegun after seeing what it can do is worthy of respect, and a little bit of fear.

Mariette blinked rapidly, processing what I had just said.

"But I'm not sleeping with you," I added, releasing her hands.

Her smile went up to her eyes at that. "Aha, we shall see," she replied, "You like me."

"I like almost all women," I shrugged back, picking up my sandwich again from the plate, "It's my weakness." I sunk my teeth into it, while Mariette ordered a mug of ale from the landlady. I managed to eat the rest of my breakfast in comfortable silence with the person who had once sunk a poisoned dagger into me. The druffulo and cheddar mixed very well with the rough wholegrain bread, so I felt reinvigorated in no time. The ale was also excellent, and Mariette and I exchanged polite remarks to that effect, as if we hadn't just been discussing a sexual affair.

It was in that state that a very pleasant surprise came.

Ciara and Armen entered, letting in a bluster of wind as they did so, their hair, clothes and cloaks billowing in the draft. They both shut the door behind them firmly, and rubbed their hands together. Just seeing Ciara up and about raised my spirits. I pushed off from the bar and went to them.

She immediately spotted me, and ran over, jumping to hug me. I returned it, glad that she was still alive. We squeezed each other for a few seconds.

"There she is!" I declared, as we broke off.

"Yes, she is," Ciara replied, "Heard you were worried."

"You're damn right! You're alive!" I said, "I hope you're only just up."

"About an hour," Armen said, "Markham made her do all sorts of tests, to make sure her eyes and skin were properly healed."

"Let's take a look," I said.

Ciara craned her neck and closed her eyes, so I could inspect her short tempered Hospitaller had proved his skill once again. The only evidence that she had ever been burned were very fine scars, barely a hair's width each, around her left eyes and cheek. If she had fresh tattoos like other Dalish her age, they might have been more noticeable, but she didn't, so it would take someone really looking to see them. I wondered if Tiberius could remove the scarring entirely with his... more controversial methods, and I nodded, reminding myself to ask him the next time I saw him.

"You should talk to Markham," I said, "And kiss his ass." The man had plenty of casualties to deal with as it was. That he could achieve such miracles in that context was rather amazing.

"Never," Ciara said, slapping my hands away from her face, "He said I didn't need to, as long as I promise not to go jumping into fires again."

"That does sound like him," I laughed, "Better heed that advice. He's one to hold you to promises."

Armen opened his mouth, probably to make some remark about Markham, but noted the presence of Mariette beside me with his eyes. I glanced to her, finding her listening in intently. Ciara soon noticed the exchange too, and looked up at me expectantly. Suddenly, I felt hot. Guilt out of entertaining the younger De Villars' notions. Worse, as Ciara and Mariette were barely a few years apart in age, it seemed even more dirty in my own mind all of a sudden.

"Colonel De Villars' cousin," I explained, "As I'm sure you're aware."

"She's a little close to you," Ciara said, "What does she want?"

"You know you can speak to me directly," Mariette cut in, "I won't bite."

"No, you stab," Ciara replied flatly, "With your shoe, if I recall correctly." I let out an amused snort at that.

"I was just inviting the Marquis to stab me back," Mariette smiled with a flick of the wrist, "With something other than a blade. It's only fair." Leaving little to the imagination where her intentions were concerned.

There was an awkward silence as we all processed her words.

"So she's suicidal," Armen smirked back at me, "Tam out of jealousy, Julie because she's a noble. I'm not sure which is a worse fate, being sliced from neck to belly or suddenly having your blood pouring out of you through fifty holes."

"I would be honoured if the Qunari thought she could best me in a contest of blades," Mariette replied, "As for the Marquise, there's no reason why she couldn't join us in bed."

Armen and Ciara beamed smiles at me, probably looking forward to relaying this whole conversation to Julie and Tam. Honestly, even I found it funny at this point. The presumption of the woman to think to replace Tam was pretty hilarious.

"At least she's not trying to kill me anymore," I offered.

"I'm not sure it's an improvement," Armen said, giving me a slap on the side.

"Orlesian shems," Ciara shook her head, "I'll never understand their obsession with this."

"I've heard fantastical tales of the Dalish myself," Mariette said, winking at the young she-elf, "It is said you perform moonlit orgies in honour of your fallen gods. Are the tales true? I am Andrastian, but maybe we could forget about that for a night?"

Ciara scrunched up her face, going red from chin to the tips of her ears, mouth working as if trying to figure out what to say to that. It was adorable. At least there was one person in my little surrogate family who still had their innocence. I suppose Armen did too, his dirty jokes covering for it. They were the younger two though, which is probably why.

Mariette tilted her head, daring Ciara to respond, suitably satisfied at the effect she had produced. I was quite impressed with it myself. Don't think I had ever seen that shade of red on my friend's face before.

Armen almost choked too when the harlequin's gaze went over him invitingly. "An-anyway," he spluttered, "Julie told us to come see you, said you would want to see Ciara right away."

Glad the subject had changed, however amusing it was, I seized the opportunity.

"She was right," I said simply, "Anything else?"

"Oh yes," Armen said, raising a finger, remembering, "The war council is meeting in an hour."

---

While Armen had been at Ciara's bedside, the other leaders of the mage fraternities, which had already begun the transition to their current form as political parties, were in conclave. The cause of this... conspiratorial meeting was our victory. Or rather, some of the spoils of our victory. Together, without Armen, they decided on a course of action. That they did so without the Libertarian leader is … startling. An indication of how far we had come as a society.

And they waited to the last moment to spring it on us.

I showed up at the war room, late after having made the rounds I should have made in the morning. It turned out the generals had largely taken care of everything I had intended to get done, making a colossal waste of official time, but it further chipped away at my malaise about our Tainted soldiers and the lack of things we could do for them.

As previously mentioned, the war room was the largest bedroom of the tavern. The bed frame had been put on its side and shoved against the back wall. One of the large tables from the common area had been carried upstairs and angled through the door to provide somewhere for us to lay our maps. The smaller tables that the room possessed already were packed with other documents, casks of ale, or writing instruments. The small windows had been barred and padlocked, even though it was the top floor of the establishment, for security.

Those present were exactly who you'd expect, to the point that I should mention them as efficently as possible.

The Generals; Mike, McNulty, Soprano.

The Knights: Louise de Villars, Knight-Commander Barris, Knight-Master Markham.

The Specialists: Leha, Colonel Isewen, Fisher.

The First Enchanters: Armen, Velarana, Marable, Valle.

The Hunters: Tam, Ciara, Mariette de Villars.

And finally, I suppose it's fair to describe the last participants as the Leaders: Julie, Grand-Cleric Brandon, and myself.

No one of any real surprise there, except perhaps Mariette, but I suppose she had a perspective worth listening to. In retrospect. All of them were dressed more or less in their uniforms.

To those who know the events that followed this meeting, pay close attention. You'll note a distinct lack of talk about finding new weapons to throw at the Fereldans. The Fereldan military was now of little concern now that we had replenished our ammunition. We didn't need any more firepower than we had. Both the actual and popular historians of Ferelden place far too much emphasis on the place of magic in a battle that came later, and this meeting has been pointed to as some sort of proof that we had planned ahead for such an eventuality.

Incidentally, Julie decided to get the supply situation out of the way first. There wasn't anything interesting said, it was almost all good news. We had secured a significant amount of lead, horse shoes, leather, boots, winter clothing, and a small but nicely varied amount of foodstuffs. It would take another day to properly gather and store it all, but our supply problems were largely at an end for the moment.

Teagan's stratagem had been short notice and as the incident outside the tavern had proven, resisted even by some of his own vassals. The fires that had ravaged the town did not strike with equal fury everywhere. We even found a decent amount of material to make soap with. The thing that we didn't find in great amounts were herbs for healing. Magic was useful, but it was far more effective in conjunction with basic medicine. Especially for the Tainted among us.

That brought us to the next subject, which Leha waded right in to.

"The Legion of the Dead are leaving us," she informed us over the top of her ledger, standing on a box so she had a better view of the table, "Korbin has informed me that the burning of the town means that he cannot be seen even camping near us without fear of association with what happened. They will leave us the Taint-suppressing tinctures that we require, and go tomorrow morning."

A mixed wave of disgust, consternation and disappointment went around the room.

"Surely the brave dwarva do not lay the blame for this atrocity at our feet?" Brandon said rather imperiously, "It was Arl Guerrin who decided to burn the town, we wished to preserve it." All the better to loot it, I thought to myself. Not that we would have taken valuables, merely essentials. I would have preferred to pay, in fact... but we needed our treasury for later.

"I even made sure that the Revered Mothers were aware of this fact," Brandon continued, "The truth must win out."

"It rarely does," I muttered, just loud enough to be heard. Brandon's face darkened, conceding that I might have been right but she didn't like entertaining the thought.

"Korbin thinks it won't matter," Leha replied, "The only reason the Fereldans set the town alight was because we are here. They will blame us, calling Teagan's action as a necessary act of resistance." I couldn't really fault that logic, now that I had experienced the stubbornness of the people in question first hand.

"And he is afraid of dragging his own kingdom into the war," Soprano added.

Leha growled. "Actually, he thinks that bastard Bhelen will intervene," she said, "That there would be an unprecedented opportunity for Orzammar to get Alistair in its debt again. Try and leverage a victory, and gain access to the gunpowder formula afterwards. Korbin made it clear that he won't attack us, he views it as folly to even try with such a small force and that such a decision cannot be made by someone of his rank."

"Can we trust his word?" Julie asked, "I have seen those golems of theirs... They look fearsome."

"We can," Leha insisted, "If anything, he knows the power of our cannons... and he views us as fanatics who will fight to the death."

We all exchanged worried glances at the suggestion, hoping it wasn't as true as Korbin thought. All except Brandon.

"I am glad the master dwarf is aware of our zeal," she puffed up proudly, "After all, Andraste too waged a war for freedom."

Murmurs of agreement made the rounds, more likely to keep the cleric shut up than out of full throated conviction.

"All I care about is that they're leaving the medicine," I said, "Thanks to them, they have given us enough time to save our soldiers from turning into... whatever it is you call the slaves of the darkspawn."

"Ghouls," Tam supplied. Sending a lump down my throat, because she was facing just such a fate.

"Ghouls," I repeated, to clear my airways of the trepidation.

"But it doesn't buy us enough time," Julie said, "We need to move by the fastest route to Vigil's Keep. But there are two roads ahead of us." She nodded at the elder de Villars.

Louise leaned over the table, with a large and detailed map of Ferelden laid over it, and traced the roads with her finger. "One on the western shore of Lake Calenhad, parallel to the Frostbacks, and one on the eastern shore, with the Bannorn on the flank."

I examined the roads in question. They were both marked as the Imperial Highway, and what Barris had told me about the state of the road in the west, I thought I knew what to do.

"Unless I'm missing something, the eastern route is best," I said, "It likely has the most supplies to be gathered along it, we can send outriders into the Bannorn to see how they're reacting to our presence and to give them the impression we're upon them. We avoid needing to cross the Calenhad river. We still have to cross the Dane, but there's no way the Fereldans can get enough forces there in time to stop us. We have the ships to attack them on two fronts."

I'm sure many fantasized about stopping us at the Dane like Loghain Mac Tir had the last time Orlesian arms were active in the country. It would have been pure stupidity. We had artillery and mages, something that the chevaliers had a complete lack of against Mac Tir.

Louise didn't think much of my little scheme however.

"On paper, these roads appear to be the same," she said, pointing between the eastern and western routes, "But they are are not. Both have been looted for stone, so they are not anything like what their counterparts in Orlais. When we were here last time, we repaired much of the network, but it has not been maintained since the end of our rule here. But that only matters on the eastern route." Interesting use of the word 'we' there, I frowned. She was referring to Orlais.

She gestured along it with her gloved hand.

"It's called the Grain Road to those in the western Bannorn and the Hinterlands," she explained, "All the grain and goods wagons to Amaranthine travel on it. Both sides have been stripped of paving to varying degrees, but the eastern road is churned to mud by this time every year."

She pointed to the western route.

"The western route isn't used because of the threat of the Avvar and dragon cultists," she continued, "Not many settlements to hide in either. There is more paving remaining, the ground is firmer as it is more rocky, and it does not see many wagons."

"Dragon cultists?" I asked, "Really?"

"The Hero of Ferelden routed them," Louise said, straightening up again, "But word is that they have returned in the past few years, regrouping south of Haven. They're thought to be plotting to retake the village, but haven't because it has become a Chantry outpost. The Divine and the Fereldan Crown are constructing a great temple on the site of Andraste's Ashes."

"I only wish we could take the army to visit that holy place," Brandon sighed, "But it is a day off of our march each way, and not an easy one as I understand it." I was taken aback by her pragmatic thought on the matter. She was changing as much as any of us were, it seemed. Or bending, at least. Haven probably had no shortage of Templars posted to it.

"I'm glad we do not have to disagree on that," Julie said with a smile.

"Colonel de Villars," Barris asked, moving forward to the table, "How is it you know so much about the roads in this region? Everything you have said is entirely correct. Have you visited regularly?"

Not damned likely, I thought to myself. Chevaliers would not be safe travelling alone in Ferelden.

"Knight-Commander, I do not wish to offend you, but..." Louise said, her mask hiding her smile but her tone of voice revealing it, "I have been preparing to invade Ferelden for most of my life."

"As have I," Mariette admitted, "Uncle Maurice would have been at the forefront of any effort to do so, so he prepared us to aid him on the campaign." That did sound like the man.

Barris' face wove a complex web of emotion for a moment, twisting before settling on exasperation. He was a brave man for standing by his oath when it meant following Orlesians in an invasion of his country, but I guess he understood that it wasn't a permanent occupation, but merely a transit. Unfortunately, things got more complicated than that later.

"Ah," he said, "Then I am glad you got the opportunity under these circumstances, rather than an attempt to take my country for the Empress."

"As am I, Knight-Commander," Louise said graciously.

Mariette joined her cousin's side, with ready access. Wanting to add something herself. "There is another advantage to going west, if we're still on the subject."

"We are," Julie said.

The harlequin inclined her head in thanks, and pointed at the map.

"The western route also makes us appear as if we are heading for Gherlan's Pass," she said, "Back to Orlais. You told the Arl that we would be gone by the end of winter, yes? If we take the western route, it will appear to him and thus to the King and Queen as if we are fulfilling that promise immediately. It may create doubt in the court at Denerim that they need to raise an army to stop us, at least until we turn east again at the northern tip of the lake. At the very least, the conflicting reports will create confusion."

Mariette looked at me. "Your plan to send outriders into the Bannorn would be an excellent move," she said, "But it also could give them cause to unite around their throne, once they decided that they would prefer to fight."

I looked at the map again, tracing the roads around the tear drop shaped blue areas marking the lakes. I saw real value in putting the fear of God into the Fereldans, while attempting to do as little harm to them as possible. I saw far more value in relieving them of their worries, temporarily, making them think twice about whether or not we had any plans of going deeper into their country. Wars are fought in the minds of the combatants as much as on any physical battlefield.

Julie peered at me with her green irises, her silence telling me it was a strictly military problem from her perspective. While there was a political element about what reaction to provoke from the Fereldans, that had more military consequences than immediate political ones.

Our glorious leader knew how to read commoners, but she had no clue how military men would react, and it was they who would be doing the decisionmaking when push came to shove. That they were also nobles complicated her perspective; their world varies startlingly over lines, whereas peasants and merchants everywhere have the fight for survival and prosperity in common. She knew Orlesian nobility best, and even then, only really those of the Eastern Dales.

"The Army will go by the west," I said firmly, "Colonel Isewen, I'm transferring command of the Avvars to you until we are at the north end of the lake. You're going to take them ahead, make sure there aren't any surprises waiting. They should know the lay of the land well."

Isewen bowed her head. "Yes, my lord," she said.

"Marquis," said Louise, "Permission to join them." She was still smarting over not having a role in the assault on the town.

I couldn't see heavy cavalry doing much on rough terrain. That was one aspect of warfare I wasn't really an expert in, but I knew enough to know that armoured knights weren't going to be worth a damn on rough ground and forest. "Denied," I replied, "It doesn't seem likely that we'll meet organised resistance on the road, am I right Knight-Commander?"

"My father can call on a thousand good men," Barris said, "And he has perhaps the largest force on this side of Calenhad. Even if they all rallied together, the local banns couldn't hope to oppose us. I doubt they will even be able to gather their troops before we arrive." That seemed rather more hopeful than certain, but I trusted the man's word.

"A thousand men is something that Isewen and the Avvars can handle easily," Julie noted aloud, for the benefit of the chevalier, "We must be vigilant of the other threats, but I doubt the tribes will attack such a large army when there is a good road to use, and the dragon cultists would be mad to do so. Allow the Lancers and the Highlanders to do their job."

"As you wish," Louise replied, likely sour but respectful as she could be. The mask made it as difficult to gauge her reactions as ever.

"We'll find something for you," I said to her, "As much as I hope they don't, I'm sure the Fereldans will attempt to stop us somewhere."

"I am not so sure," said Louise, gripping the hilt of her sword, "We move more quickly than most armies, even with the civilians. I am beginning to suspect we shall face no more opposition until we are at the walls of Amaranthine."

"Then you will be first over the walls," Leha said, tone dismissive, "I'll throw you over myself, if you don't shut up about it. So eager to get yourself dead, you chevaliers."

Like a bird of prey honing in on its target, Louise's silver-plated skull mask angled down towards the dwarf in the blink of an eye. Her sword slid slightly out of its scabbard, not a real threat but a warning to her target that she would not suffer attacks lightly. "Eager to prove our valour," she growled, "Quartermaster."

Leha grit her teeth, but didn't respond to the implied charge of cowardice. There was a certain truth behind it; she did not like battle, although she had experience of combat. Not sure that it was cowardice rather than a dislike for the realities.

"It's done," Julie cut in sharply.

"As you say, Marquise," Louise conceded, taking her hand off her sword-hilt and letting the blade slide back into its scabbard with a click.

"For clarity, my boys and girls want some action too," McNulty said, scratching at his beard, "Something other than darkspawn to haunt their dreams, I think."

"Mine too," Soprano added, "I must admit some dissatisfaction with avoiding battle. We could crush King Alistair's forces in a single swoop."

Can't say I wasn't tempted to give it a shot, but at the time, I simply looked to Julie to explain the obvious objection. She surprised me with a different one.

"We have to leave Ferelden in as good a state as possible," Julie said, "That bastard Gaspard allowed us to slip into exile here so we could weaken the country, to send it into chaos. All so he can look like the hero when he rides in here, fresh from his victory over Celene. The Empress herself may do the same if she wins the upper hand instead. Our actions have already resulted in the burning of one town, we shall not aid the Empire further in our actions, is that clear?"

There were enthusiastic noises of consent from the commoners at the table, Soprano and McNulty chief among them. The trueborn nobles, Barris and the de Villars, remained silent. I had tried to put Gaspard out of my mind, for the sake of my sanity as much as anything, but Julie's peculiar memory precluded any chance of her doing that. She was capable of channelling her anger more appropriately than I could, though.

"We may also need the bullets later," Tam added, "The Free Marches may react badly to our arrival." That had been my first reaction.

"By Andraste, I hope not," Julie breathed, "Anyway, as Sam said, the Army can move the day after tomorrow by the western route and we'll be around the lake in no time at all. I think that's all we need to consider, for now. We'll meet again tomorrow night and..."

Velarana cleared her throat loudly, reminding me and everyone else of her existence. And that of the other mages. "You got a cold or something?" Ciara asked from beside the Aequitarian, probably getting an earful of the noise for her trouble.

"Or a case of very poor manners," Brandon said.

A particular fact only emerged in my head at that moment; the mages had been completely quiet for the whole meeting until that point. Not enjoying the thought that it had been a mindful act, I glanced at Armen for some hint, but he looked as lost as anyone. Hardly a surprise considering he had been watching Ciara all night.

Velarana seemed to be the ringleader of what was happening, and didn't care what Brandon or Ciara thought. "The other leaders of the mage fraternities and I have a request," she said, "Except for the Libertarians, but I would be surprised if they objected." She looked at Armen, who gave her no indication that he was going to raise an objection, simply staring back, cool as ever.

"The Circle at Kinloch Hold is within striking distance," Velarana continued, "I had not held out hope that we could reasonably assault it, but we captured no small number of ships yesterday. You must know that the Templars are becoming extreme in their methods and temperament. I fear the Fereldan Circles will be the scene of the next incident, because of the liberty mages have here. I am no Libertarian, but these are circumstances my fraternity cannot ignore. We must act."

Of all the things to come out of her mouth, that was perhaps the most unexpected. I almost congratulated her for it.

Brandon coughed and spluttered, hardly believing her ears. "You wish us to attack a Circle?!" she said, "Do you have any idea how the Divine... how the Templars would react! It would cause a war!"

"I have begun to believe that such a war is inevitable," Velarana replied quickly, "But the Fereldan Circles are out of favour with the Templars, even if the Divine favours them. I believe they would prefer to see the mages under our banner. All the bad eggs in one place."

"You risk the Divine revoking our own Circle's charter!" Brandon rumbled back, "She would be under significant pressure to declare an Exalted March!"

"My Templars and I are all oathbound to the Chantry," Barris added, "If you plan to attack the Circles at Kinloch and Jainen, I have no choice but to fight against you."

"Which is suicide," Armen replied cheerily, "But that wouldn't stop you, would it?" The young mage was thoroughly enjoying the sudden swing of the other fraternities towards his position where locking up mages was concerned.

The Knight-Commander looked around the table, and saw nothing but agreement with Armen's sentiments; that the Free Army would fight to defend the mages in its number. Too many wounds patched up, too many enemies destroyed, too many relationships both comradely and romantic stoked, it was the natural reaction. I had to feel some level of pride at the phenomenon, having achieved something unheard of.

"There must be some sort of compromise," Julie said, "The objections of the Grand-Cleric aren't madness. When we reach the Free Marches, the only thing protecting us will be our weapons and the mercy of the world around us. It will be impossible to fight an Exalted March. But Colonel Velarana is correct, we cannot leave the mages there either."

"Surely if we do, they will be used against us?" Tam asked, "It seems far less wise to leave the saarebas there."

Brandon sighed wearily. "Were it any other kingdom, you might be wrong," she said, "But Queen Anora... she extracted a heavy price from the Chantry for its failures during the Blight. Ferelden can call for volunteers from the Circles in times of war, and can conscript the entirety in the event of Blights, even without the Wardens. The Hero of Ferelden demanded it, and Anora delivered."

"Isn't there something you can do?" Armen asked, "You're a Grand-Cleric, aren't you?"

"Ferelden has one of its own," Brandon replied, "But... I am higher in precedence than her. I can facilitate a transfer of mages to our Circle, but it would likely require the Knight-Commanders of Kinloch and Jainen to agree separately that I do have more authority."

"Would you accept us trying that?" Julie said, directing the question at Velarana, "Without a guarantee that it would work?"

Velarana frowned, anticipating the reaction of the other two fraternity leaders.

"We much prefer peaceful means," said Marable, speaking for the Isolationists.

"Agreed," nodded Valle, "If we can avoid the expense in blood and supplies of yet another battle, we should do so."

"I will not allow our brothers and sisters to be slaughtered out of paranoia," Velarana hissed back at them, "I am sure the Libertarians stand with us on that."

"We do," said Armen firmly, "In fact, I am sure the Circle has the herbs required to hold off the Taint. There's another reason."

Julie paused, looking down at the table. "Then we are at an impasse," she said, "We cannot spark a larger war with the Chantry. We won't win such a war. But we cannot ignore this opportunity either. We'll lose too many people if we allow Ferelden the chance to rally mages to its cause, and more from the Taint before we reach Vigil's Keep."

The table fell silent, as the divide in our ranks seemed to hit us. I didn't think that the Knight-Commanders of Ferelden would agree to giving us their mages. We were the wild experiment of the Chantry as far as the Templars were concerned. A sort of test case for whether or not mages could live with even greater freedoms. I couldn't see other top Templars thinking like Barris did.

But then I remembered how exactly Brandon and Barris had changed her mind about me, from a threat to someone sent by the Maker. As the argument continued in more or less the same way around me, a plan began to emerge from the fog in my mind.

"Fisher," I said, interrupting the back and forth, "How many people can you move on those ships?"

"On the big ones, a couple of thousand," the Jaderite replied, "More if we use the fishing boats, but I wouldn't recommend that."

"Good," I said, "The Guard, the Grenadiers and the Templars will be the honour guard for the Grand-Cleric, we'll set sail as the Army marches out."

"What do you intend?" Brandon asked, "They will see a display of force as blackmail, Marquis."

"I'm sure they shall, at first," I replied, "The threat will get us in the front doors. But we're going to give them another sort of display once we're inside, and they'll forget all about threats."

---

The dwarves marched out the next day. It was quite a sight, the living statues of rock and steel pounding along, followed by the dwarva troopers themselves. They said nothing to us, and barely deemed to spare us their eyes for more than a split second. Korbin hadn't been kidding about the Legion of the Dead's opinion of where all of this was going, and was getting his people out of Dodge as quick as he good. But he respected the promise he had made, and left the tinctures in Markham's capable hands.

Our Army marched out the next morning, having completed the stripping of the town of all strategic resources. The smithies worked from sunrise to sunset, melting lead into bullets, shoring up horseshoes, repairing wagon wheels. Would have been nice to find some money too, but any real moveable wealth was with the townsfolk in the Chantry chapels. Soprano was appointed to command in my absence. Our own civilians were herded back to the road, and the wagon train got moving.

All watched closely by the Arl's men, high up on the walls and towers of Redcliffe Castle.

As soon as I was sure that the civilians were clear, we proceeded down to the docks before the Fereldans could sally out to stop us, boarded a boat. Julie, Tam, Armen and I. Ciara and Leha remained, the former as a kind of political advisor to the latter, who suddenly found herself in political control of the entire army for the duration of our trip to Kinloch. Our Dalish friend didn't want to go to the Circle.

Julie had insisted on coming with, though I had made my preference that she stay with the Army known.

"I have never seen the inside of a Circle," she had said, "Or met any mage that truly wanted to live within one. I need to do this." Stubborn as a mule, as the old folks used to say. It was the wrong move, but there was no talking her down.

Brandon had made her coming a condition of her cooperation in our plan, so that was that.

Officially, we were the armed escort for the Grand-Cleric of the Eastern Dales for the duration. That meant Brandon was in charge, at least as far as how we were to behave if the Templars at Kinloch proved not to be immediately hostile. Mages didn't technically fall under Julie's jurisdiction, as we were still adhering to the deal we had made with the Divine via Leliana Nightingale.

That is how we left Redcliffe, on a windy day with relatively clear skies. The seven large merchant vessels carrying the delegation to the Circle continued straight north into the heart of Lake Calenhad, while the collection of smaller fishing ships and boats proceeded to follow the Army along the western lakeshore. That would do wonders for the diet of the troops and those with child, which made me feel a lot better about the whole saga.

Despite the reputation of our nation, it may surprise many readers to find out that I am not a sea person. Or even a large lake person. I get nauseous at the mention of ships. I am a species of land predator. Don't mind flying, don't mind hoofing it hundreds of clicks, but bobbing about on water in a wooden tub is not my idea of fun.

The first day was easy enough. The wind didn't kick up too many waves. We spent the time playing dice and cards on the lower deck, our soldiers sleeping in rows and hammocks that night while my companions and I collapsed onto our furs in what had been the Captain's quarters. Trade ships were often laid up in Redcliffe for the winter, as there wasn't much trade on the lakes at that time of year. We reaped the reward. We saw others on the water too, those coming from the Waking Sea.

The second day was worse. It rained, and the water became a good deal more choppy a few hours before we were supposed to arrive at our destination.

The rocking of the ship laid me up in bed for much of it. I was able to keep my food down but only if I wasn't vertical. Julie sat behind me, my head on her lap, rubbing my head and laughing as I groaned with each big roll and buck of the vessel. I forgave her the laughs because the massaging was an absolute God-send. Armen looked suitably miserable too at least, having never been on a ship before, but he was at least able to stand up. Tam was her usual self, probably the best well travelled by land or sea of all of us. On Thedas, at any rate.

"This is a surprise," she said somewhere into the third hour, "The great Samuel Hunt, defeated by water."

"There's a reason I didn't join the damned Marines," I said, "Well, that and I wanted nothing to do with what happens on Parris Island."

"What is Parris Island?" Tam asked from the side.

"Hell on Earth," I replied, "If the Marines are to be believed."

"Sounds bad," Julie teased, "Not tough enough?"

"Not stupid enough," I said, "But I'm sure the Marines would say that's the same thing."

The ship rolled badly once again, my stomach with it. Julie curled her fingers in my hair again, making feel better again. She soon noticed that, and the edges of her lips curled up from above me. "There are remedies for this sickness," she said, "Better ones than a head massage."

"Many," Tam confirmed, "Although some are simply scams to wring coin out of sailors. No less than three alchemists attempted to sell me such remedies at Ostwick."

"I presume you left their bodies somewhere no one can find them," Armen joked.

"No!" Tam said back, "I simply ignored them."

"How did you cross to Orlais?" Armen continued, "Passage on a ship isn't free."

"I had some gold," Tam replied, "Taken from the Tevinter mage I … pacified. But I crossed the sea for free in the end. Slept with a captain for comfort. And the first mate."

I winced. That was an image in my mind I really did not need. I tried not to think about Tam's past occupation other than 'state-allocated child raiser', it made me angry at the Qun. This was an extension of that. "Sailors are... salty," I said, "I'm sure that was unpleasant."

"Not at all," she said, "She was a very competent lover. The first mate, she was just as good."

Which changed things. "She," I laughed, "Never mind, I take it back."

The inconsistency did not go unnoticed.

"You really do have a strange attitude about these things," said Julie, "Why does them being women make a difference? Would you not take a man as a lover? It is nothing to be ashamed of. A certain dashing General of Grenadiers would be willing, too. I think you would find it pleasant. It is simply strange to confine yourself so."

I clenched my jaw, wondering how best to explain it. It was "I don't find men as attractive as women," I said, "Or attractive at all. That's the norm where I come from for most guys, but not all."

"It is the norm among the Qun too," Tam said, "I prefer men, in general, but I do not object to women."

"I like both," said Julie, "If I took a male lover, you would object?"

"To you, no," I said, "I'd make it known that he can choose between you and getting into a serious fight with me, and let him decide. Men are possessive, Julie."

"But we are yours forever anyway!" Julie complained, "And you are ours. We are not going to run off with someone. What does it matter?"

I felt a hot sensation crawl up my face, not really used to open declarations that we were going to be together forever. It was too corny by a mile.

Armen laughed, seeing the effect for himself. "I think he's worried about the risks," he said, "He doesn't want you to suddenly find yourself in the situation women often find themselves in, after doing that." Not true, but after he said it, it did occur I would be torn to pieces in that event.

"I'm very careful," Julie said, her finger pointed at Armen over my head, "Ask Sam. What do you think we've been doing all this time?"

"She is," I confirmed, "Doesn't make me happy about other lovers."

"What about Ciara?" Julie asked, "Do you just use magic?" Which obviously wouldn't work for me. Magical immunity isn't all positive.

"Yes," Armen shrugged, "But we're not like you three. We're not soulmates, we're good friends. That's all."

"Is this an Orlesian thing?" I asked, "I get the feeling that other nations are less tolerant of this." Fereldans turn red then blue if you try it with them.

"Most other nations are barbaric," Julie said, returning her hands to my head, "Orlais is a perfect tyranny, but it at least recognises the realities of people. Maybe that is why it can control people so well."

There was a certain logic to that. Why bother with rebellion as long as your belly is full and you can take a string of lovers? Bread and games, of a sort. Of course, that is what the revolution exploited on some level. Bread is a lot less plentiful than lovers in Orlais.

"Look, I can't tell you what to do and I could never hurt you," I said, trying to bring the subject to a close, "But I owe no obligations to men trying to steal you away from me. And that's what they would be trying to do. Is that greedy? Absolutely. Do I care that it's greedy? Hell no. The whole multiple-lovers thing is already messing with my values, I don't need the complexities of other men in this mess."

"What about the Tevinter?" Tam asked, "Should we not be jealous of her?"

"Yes," I said, "I can't say otherwise."

"I will not be," Julie insisted, "My objection to her is purely political. A Tevinter magister is not a fit ally, and certainly not a fit lover for you. It is one thing to take lovers, it is entirely another to have no standards."

"We have chevaliers," Armen said flatly, "Not like it's a huge leap to take a magister."

"Sam isn't sleeping with them," Tam replied flatly, "Not through lack of trying on their part."

I hoped that wasn't a reference to the elder de Villars. "Yeah, Mariette approached me the day before yesterday," I said, "I turned her down."

Tam nodded, glad to know I had dodged that bullet.

"She is handsome," said Julie, her eyes rolling upwards, "You should have said yes, and then brought her to me."

"She'll try it with you later," I said, "She's in it for the power, and maybe as some fucked up redemption for trying to kill me."

"She should seek redemption," Julie pouted, "Others are. I see no reason to reject her."

"I am with Sam on this," Tam intoned, "Mariette de Villars is not to be trusted." Admittedly, after the display of guile de Villars had put on at the war council, I had started to waver, but there was a bottom line.

"Don't think it's about trusting her," Armen smirked, his eyes on Julie.

"If Bitch Pudding proves herself, then there's nothing else for it," I said in Common.

Julie's hand stopped moving once more. "Bitch Pudding?" she asked.

If I had a hundred years to explain who Bitch Pudding is, I wouldn't have enough time. I was saved from having to make an attempt in mere minutes.

A knock on the door came.

Fisher marched in, stopping dead upon seeing the scene before him. I would have too, if I had caught the general of my army laying down his head on the (Madame) President's lap. Though that would have been considerably more of a problem in my case. The Jaderite just stood there, tongue tied.

I pulled myself up off of Julie, and stood, readying myself to suppress the wave of nausea. To my surprise, no such wave hit. In fact, the movement of the ship seemed to be greatly lessened.

"Report, Fisher," I said, falling into the professional place of a superior officer with ease.

"Apologies, Marquis," he said, "I have interrupted you."

"Not at all," I insisted, "Report."

Fisher wasn't trained up through the Free Army, and neither were his people, but most of the sailors had served on Orlesian Navy vessels at some point. That is how most realms operate navies, in fact. Gather up the fisherfolk and merchantmen under the command of professionals, sometimes taking the ships along too. If you think chevaliers are bad on land, try them on the ocean. Navies, unlike armies, require a degree of technical skill that elude armies. Discipline is notably harsh. So the man noted the clipped tone of voice I was using, and responded accordingly.

"The mist has cleared," he said, "The lookouts have spotted the tower, and we are changing course towards it. The Far Horizon signalled with a message from the Grand-Cleric, asking if we proceed as planned."

The others began standing up.

"Signal them back with an affirmative," I replied, "The Guard and the Grenadiers will secure a beachhead, and the Templars can bring the Grand-Cleric ashore. If I'm perfectly content that she won't catch an arrow for her trouble."

"Yes, Marquis!" Fisher said.

The man marched out, each step very deliberate and rapid, closing the door behind him. I looked back at the others.

"Here we go," I said, "Let's go take a look, shall we?"

"Prepare to be impressed," Armen said, grasping his staff, "I've heard the Circle Tower here is second only to the White Spire itself."

"Isn't it a prison?" Tam asked, "How impressive can it be?"

I shrugged, pulling on my boots, still requiring effort to keep on an even keel where my stomach was concerned but far less than before. The others began donning their own footwear, and I made it to the door first.

The wind hadn't died down, but at least it wasn't raining, and I was shielded from the worst of it by the cabin behind me, the gales coming in from the south to the backs of our ships. The decks were lined with Fisher's sailors, sans the chainmail and helmets they had taken to wearing on the march, awaiting orders. I couldn't see ahead, because the sails were in the way, so I walked forward to the bow, ducking under the sails at certain points and wobbling to the amusement of the deck crew.

It was worth the trouble.

The Circle Tower rose up in the distance, a veritable skyscraper of a bygone era. Carved grey stone piled as high as it was possible to be without collapse, strong buttresses around its base keeping it that way, a broken bridge extending off to the right of it towards the distant shoreline, which it commanded. It was a piece of architecture unlike any I had ever seen.

But, my brain began to analyse it from a military perspective after only a few moments. It had to have been made by magic, I thought, because there was no way anyone would have spent money to erect such a structure without magic in such a place. It did not appear to have any defences beyond the water itself, if perhaps the Templars had dismantled them as a disadvantage to the purpose of the place. No windows to escape out of or arrow slits to throw secret messages from, neither to shoot at us from either.

The fight, if it happened, would be inside. Close quarters. This I had anticipated, which is why I had brought the two best regiments for such fighting. Chevaliers for the old style. Grenadiers for the new.

"Someone a long time ago was compensating for something," Julie said from beside me, a frown on her face.

"Tell me about it," I snorted.

"Wasn't it Amund's people who built it?" Armen said, "With the size they are, you wouldn't think they'd need to compensate."

"Only takes one man in power with an ego problem," I said, fully aware that could apply to me as well.

"Or woman," Julie said wistfully, her eyes looking up in a different direction.

I tracked where she was looking, it wasn't at the Tower any longer, and I spotted two eagles circling ahead. The eagles. An omen I could do without, I thought.

---

It took another few hours to negotiate the straits at the northern end of the lake, as there were several islands to avoid crashing into. This also explained the more calm movement of the ships, the islands acted as very efficient breakwaters. The time was used well.

The chevaliers on board our own ship took some time to kit out in their breastplates, greaves and gauntlets. Very necessary things for facing Templars, who of course have full chainmail or plate armour. The chevaliers didn't really armour up their lower halves, to maintain their mobility. Louise looked particularly impressive, wearing the fully enclosed skull helmet of her house, rounded shoulder pauldrons and her shining cuirass over her torso. I myself donned the armoured skull mask she had given me at Honnleath.

Below decks, the Grenadiers had a much easier time, simply pulling on the leather plate-carriers and round helmets shaped exactly the same way as my own kevlar versions. They spent the rest of the time measuring out gunpowder into small wooden cartridge caps. These carried the exact amount needed for a good shot, had a small hinged lid to keep the powder dry, and they were attached to thread so that they could be tossed in combat without losing them in the process. Another of Julie's innovations. Paper wasn't so cheap that we could make disposable ones, after all.

Julie and I layered ourselves with the usual selection of armour and weapons, Armen and Tam donning Earth panoply too. Hope for the best, prepare for Murphy's Law to come and bite you in the ass. That was the watchword.

Fisher proved himself an able commander of ships, coordinating the disembarkation perfectly.

Five of the seven ships, the ones containing the Guard and Grenadier companies, came up alongside the remaining intact part of the bridge leading to the Tower itself. The sailors threw ropes with hooks on the end to grab onto the supporting stone, and then pulled each ship in close to the bridge, before securing everything tightly. The last two ships could then use these as a safer dock.

The path was just barely higher than the deck of the ship, and Fisher had his people throw the gangplanks up to ease our way. They clanked onto the cut rock of the bridge, ringing out the attack.

I stepped onto the one nearest the Tower, eager to get the hell off the ship but probably appearing to be wanting to lead the advance. I felt better instantly as I jumped off the plank and onto solid ground, relatively speaking, once more. Julie and Tam were right behind me, covering the way to the large doors of the Circle with firelance and nocked bow, with Armen and Louise coming alongside.

The Grenadiers and chevaliers flowed off the decks, the former falling into a bayonet formation in the centre of the bridge directly behind us, McNulty and Old Glory at their head, while the latter formed up behind with my UN banner, ready to join a melee from the sides as required.

I scanned the entrance, and saw two very startled Templars banging on the huge front doors of the tower rapidly. I had them dead to rights, if I had wanted to end their existences.

This would have been amusing to me, but it was also a good opportunity.

"Forward," I said into my mouthpiece, before beginning to pace forward, grabbing my firelance by the pistol grip and into my hands.

"FORWARD!" came the reply of McNulty, followed by the steady beat of boots and drums.

We got off the bridge as swiftly as we could, the wind buffeting us the whole way, so that if the Templars sallied, we wouldn't be bottlenecked. The two that had been outside were let in, the doors opening only as far as required for one man to pass through at a time, before closing shut again long before we ever could have reached them. I regretted not having brought a Tranquil cannon battery, as using some of my remaining plastic explosives on the door would have been a waste, but Brandon had been clear that the presence of the Tranquil gunners would have complicated matters.

The Grenadiers maintained their formation once we were at the end of the bridge. McNulty ordered a halt, and the first rank to kneel, so we could give the Templars a full volley if they did anything stupid. Louise's chevaliers and their squires fanned out to either side, ready to charge once the volley had ripped through the enemy, guarding the two staircases that went down to where I presumed boats were tied up in the mean time.

We had secured the beachhead.

I gave a nod to Armen, and he let loose a bolt of lightning into the sky, the thunderclap's echo slapping off the stone of the Tower itself. Far more fun than a signal flare.

What the occupants of the structure thought, I did not know, but Chantry banner soon made its way onto the bridge, hanging over the Grand-Cleric, Knight-Commander Barris and the Templar honour guard. The chevaliers parted on the left to let them through, the Grenadiers keeping their weapons held up as our Templars formed to either side.

"Marquis," Brandon said, inclining her head, "Any trouble?"

"None," I replied, "After you?"

She gestured to me to wait and stepped ahead, coming to a stop just far enough away from the doors for them to open without hitting her. She must have known something I didn't, namely that there was a viewing slit in the door, because as soon as she stopped, the portal began to open, the huge metal and wooden ediface swinging outwards.

Behind stood surprisingly few Templars. Their Templars were older than ours, Barris having recruited the young and the idealistic to join our project. But no doubt they had all seen their fair share of action, hunting down apostates in the wilds of the countryside. They were armed as Templars usually were in those days, with longswords and shields. There were a couple of archers in mail at the rear, but their bows were held at rest, without arrows on the string.

Only two men ventured outside.

One was quite obviously the Knight-Commander of Kinloch, having a set of armour to rival Louise's own, pauldrons and all, with a purple tunic underneath stretching down to his ankles over a chainmail skirt. He had grey hair and a well kept beard, yet his age had not seemed to have caught up fully with him yet. Certainly not if he was walking around as easily as he was in plate.

The other was a mage, in fine green ornate robes, more ornate than anything Armen had ever possessed, and carrying a metal staff with a green crystal at the end encompassed by flanges like a mace. The First Enchanter, I thought.

Julie and I aimed our firelances at the two leaders, I taking the mage and she the Templar, as they approached Brandon. The Grand-Cleric looked positively tiny by comparison to these two men, even with her big ceremonial hat on. I think we both thought she was in serious danger if either decided to take umbrage with what she said. For their part, they looked at

"Look at this, Irving," said the Templar leader in Common, "They're children. All of them. Ridiculous." Adults with firearms, I thought, just catching myself from verbalising the idea as I had agreed with Brandon that she would do the talking. But it was very true that our movement was young.

How the priestess had remained silent, I still do not know to this day. I would have hoped it meant she had learned tact, but there wasn't a chance in hell of that happening.

"The young often find themselves overstepping boundaries," the First Enchanter replied in the same language as his prison warden, before turning his attention to the chief guest, "Grand-Cleric Brandon, I presume?"

"Correct," said Brandon, accented Common thick, "You have been expecting us?"

"Word came of your arrival," said the Knight-Commander, "Come inside. There will be no fight here. You have already broken this Circle."

With that, the man shot the dirtiest of narrowed-brow looks in the direction of Barris, before turning on his heel and making his way inside the Tower again. The Templars escorting him followed, leaving the First Enchanter alone outside, looking rather apologetic.

"What does that mean?" Brandon asked the remaining mage.

"It is perhaps easier to show than tell," the First Enchanter said, "I am Irving. We will assemble the mages in their mess hall for you. No doubt you have things to say to them. Before you do, I will attempt to answer your questions as best I can."

"That would be wonderful," Brandon replied, "The Maker smiles on us this day, it seems."

"He smiles on many people with armies behind them," Irving replied softly, "I fear everything will end in disaster. It almost has in the past."

He led Brandon inside, Barris and our Templars following behind closely.

"What was all that about?" Armen asked, "They're acting strangely."

"Something is wrong," Tam replied, placing the arrow she had nocked back into the hand holding the bow, "The Templar implied he would like to resist, but could not."

"I'm sure Mother Brandon will get to the bottom of it," Julie said, "Let's go and see."

I rubbed the back of my neck, and waved the Grenadiers forward first, sending them marching forwards in-column though the massive doors. "Maybe a demonstration won't be needed after all," I said, "Good. I feel like a dancing monkey when I do need one."

"There are monkeys that dance?" Julie asked, incredulous, "I would very much like to see such a thing."

"It's more cruel than entertaining," Tam replied, "Trust me."

There were numerous monkeys on Par Vollen and Seheron. The Qunari traded them to Rivaini merchants more often than not. Trust me, the number of them offered to us by the businessmen was far from small.

Louise glanced at me, indicating she wanted the chevaliers to enter last, so they could protect our backs. I waved the others to me and entered the Tower proper at last. Behind the first set of doors was a second, equally large set, with the locks facing outwards. This enclosed a sort of entrance sector of the facility. Like any other prison.

Beyond them were vaulted ceilings above finely carved stone floors, long curved corridors that encircled the entire tower. The space was lit with yellow-orange glowstone, appropriate enough for a magical institution. Our Templars had marched off to the right, theirs guarding the hallways at picket intervals, the Grenadiers maintaining good order as they followed along. We followed, passing open doors to barracks-style sleeping quarters.

"Apprentice quarters," Armen whispered, "They're always kept at the lowest levels near the entrance. The enchanters are considered more dangerous, so the Templars have the younger mages where they can be moved away easily."

I bit my tongue in my mouth, paying closer attention. It did seem like the occupants of the room were exclusively teenagers as we passed by, packed in like sardines into bunks. I could only imagine what that must have been like. I enjoyed middle and high school, but I also knew there were many who didn't, and the idea of living with those... politics constantly probably would have driven me insane.

Eventually, the quarters ended and the libraries began. It was the largest collection of written knowledge I had ever seen on Thedas up until that point, and would remain so for a good while longer afterwards. The stacks were right up to the ceiling, some thirty feet in the air, with precarious looking ladders around the place for finding things. Armen let out a grunt at the sight.

"Nostalgic, saarebas?" Tam asked playfully, "We can leave you here, if you like."

"Couldn't we just..." He started, "I don't know, take the books with us?"

"Don't tempt me," Julie replied.

We climbed a set of wide, gently sloping stairs, the first to an identical level that seemed to house the adults, confirming Armen's assertion as to the structure of things there. The library sections of this level were also joined by a Chantry chapel and laboratories. There were fewer watching eyes here. Not even as many as we had anticipated, I noted. There were supposed to be as many as eight hundred mages in the Tower, of all age groups. If the numbers of the kids had been reflected in the adults, I might have said that was about right, but they were not.

I filed the observation away for later, we climbed another staircase to the third level.

A sign declared it to be the Great Hall, which was exactly what it was.

There was easily enough space for all our troops plus the supposed maximum number of mages. Our Grenadiers set up at the stairwell and the entrances to small chambers around the edges, covering the Templar pickets perfectly. McNulty knew what he was doing. Our own Templars kept in a single formation, halberds and bills held at rest over shoulder or butts-against-the-ground. Thinking that a good idea, I gestured for Louise to send the chevaliers to join them.

Brandon was already addressing the Knight-Commander of Kinloch and Irving, Barris just behind and to the side of her. I strode over with my companions. Armen moved a little further ahead, apparently noticing that his presence might be required.

"Knight-Commander Greagoir, First Enchanter Irving, thank you for allowing our entry," our Grand-Cleric said, "I am Brandon, High Chantry governor of Free Orlais and the Eastern Dales. As you probably know. This is Knight-Commander Barris of the Circle of Magi at Hearth, formerly of this Circle as I understand it."

She gave Armen a rapid wave to move up beside her. He complied, grinning as he does. "Lastly, this is Armen Cartier, First Enchanter of the Hearth Circle."

My mage friend bowed theatrically, throwing out his space hand like he was greeting a monarch. "How do you do?" he said in perfect Common.

Greagoir let out a derisive snort, looking Armen up and down. "Children," he said, repeating his comment from before, "How is it that someone so young leads your entire Circle?"

"We elect our First Enchanter," Armen replied, tilting his helmet off of his head and revealing his short black hair, "One of the many innovations that makes the Circle of Hearth the safest and most productive of them all."

"I wasn't aware that war was safe," Greagoir snapped back, "And should you still call it the Circle of Hearth? Word of your exile and the dissolution of your Circle by the Grand-Duke of Orlais has reached us."

"Knight-Commander Greagoir!" Brandon interrupted loudly, "You know as well as I that temporal nobles have no jurisdiction over the Circles except by prior agreement with the Chantry. The Grand-Duke does not have the power to command the dissolution of a Circle, only the Divine does. Have you received such an order from the Divine, ser?"

"No," Greagoir grumbled, "Not yet."

"Nor will you ever," Brandon corrected, "If anything, the exile of the Free Army has tested our Circle to the brink and our mages have performed with absolute propriety. Only a few years ago, I would not have thought such a thing possible, but here we are. You certainly don't possess the power to dismiss that experience in a fit of pique, ser."

Firebrand Brandon, hard at work.

The Knight-Commander of Kinloch began turning a shade of purple-red, glaring at the Grand-Cleric, before Irving placed a hand on his arm and nodded at the assembled troops behind us. Greagoir wisely calmed himself down. I'm sure if I could have seen Armen's face from where I was standing, it would have been positively glowing with amusement and satisfaction.

"Are these three who I think they are?" Irving asked, looking over at us. A real politician, this one. He had steered the conversation in a far more safe direction with practised ease.

"The Marquis and Marquise de la Fayette," Brandon said, holding her hand out towards us, "Commanding General of the Free Army and former High-Chancellor of Free Orlais."

"And their Qunari mistress," Irving said, looking over Tam with admiration, "You know you are spoken of with a degree of exaggeration that we have not seen in Ferelden since Daylen Amell? As is Monsieur Cartier."

"We're beginning to see that," I said, reminded of Teagan's condemnation of our cause.

"Is it really true what they say about you?" he continued, "Can you walk through all forms of magic, unharmed?"

"He can," Julie replied, "In fact, we intended to show you, as a means of convincing you of the Maker's blessing upon our cause."

Irving let out a laugh at that. "Many people believe they have that blessing," he said, "Here at Kinloch, we are more suspicious of such things. Here, many died and the Maker did nothing. But I will take your offer."

He stepped forward, and conjured a bright orange flame in his palm, about the length of his forearm. I knew what he wanted me to do already. We had planned a far more spectacular display; inviting the Circle mages to try and kill me as I had once down at the parade grounds of L'Ambassade. This would do. No need for larger pyrotechnics when a relatively small amount did the job.

I stuck my own hand directly into the flame, and watched it bend around, dying down wherever it came close to touching me. I didn't even feel the effects of it. Irving soon snuffed it out, and looked at me with wide-eyed curiosity.

"Remarkable," he said, "Nothing only are you unharmed, but your clothing is too!"

"Have you ever heard of anything like that?" Brandon said, "Such a gift could only be from the Maker himself. He has been sent to create equilibrium and harmony between mage and non-mage, a great sword to hang over the abominations and a great encouragement for those whom require magical aid."

The Templars, ours and theirs, all looked suitably impressed. The ones not wearing helmets, at least. Even Greagoir looked on with feelings I could not identify exactly. He had extensive anti-magical capabilities, yet he had never seen anything like what I had just done. The blank expression made that clear. The implications of it all were not as clear cut as Brandon said, to him or I.

"I cannot claim to know the Maker's will," Irving said shakily, "But this is unique in the history of Thedas as far as I am aware."

"It isn't unique," I replied, "I've been made aware of a number of similar individuals. We even found the bones of some of them in the Deep Roads, the poor sons of bitches."

A clanking of armour announced a reaction. "You came to Ferelden by the Deep Roads?" Greagoir exclaimed in surprise, "That detail wasn't in the message."

"What message?" Tam asked, narrowing her eyes.

"The message from Arl Teagan," Irving explained, "Under the terms of the Denerim Accords, signed by the Chantry on the insistence of Warden-Commander Amell, the Crown can call for suitable volunteers from the mages, for the Army to see off invaders."

"And you are invaders," Greagoir added.

"We know," Julie replied flatly, "That is why the Grand-Duke exiled us here in the first place. So you would consider us to be enemies. We have merely pre-empted this country's response."

"You're telling me most of the mages are gone?" I asked.

"The Arl invoked the articles required as Master of Horse," Irving explained, "We had no choice but to send the suitable candidates. However, anyone under any sort of suspicion of Libertarian leanings was excluded."

"Most of the Aequitarians and all of the Loyalists have gone to Denerim," Greagoir said, "To join the King in defence of their country. From you." Velarana was going to be furious.

Another masterstroke from Teagan. We had caught him and the entire realm completely by surprise, and he had wasted not a second in rallying the one force that could genuinely threaten us. He knew they couldn't reach Redcliffe in time to save it, if they even could have saved it at all, but with the support of the Royal Army and whatever other volunteers could be raised...

I realised we were going to have a real fight on our hands at some point in the future. Gaspard might very well get his way regardless. And perhaps he would have, if older, more evil forces had not acted.

There was just one question I had. "What about Rowan?" I asked, "Teagan's niece? She was at Redcliffe."

"You bastard!" Greagoir shouted, moving towards me. He had made a dark assumption, one I myself would have made. Louise and Barris drew their swords and interposed themselves between him and I, Tam's dagger making its appearance in her own hand before she made her way to get in behind him if he went further. The chevaliers dispersed neatly to surround those Templars loyal to Greagoir, following the lead of their commander. I found the man to be little threat as a consequence, barely registering him as such. He himself got the idea quickly too.

Armoured veteran or not, Blondie would have carved him in half. Templars are warriors. Chevaliers are soldiers.

"She's alive," Julie said, "The entire town and most of the garrison are."

"Rowan Guerrin is assigned to Denerim Palace," Irving said, interrupting to save the day again, "She should not have been at Redcliffe at all."

"Well, she was," I continued, "Along with two Templars. I guess she must have shown up to visit just before we laid siege to the town, or else he would have sent her away."

"That is a plausible explanation," Irving said, pointedly looking at Greagoir. The two Knight-Commanders were squaring off, but Greagoir being the older man, knew the futility of that sort of thing and backed down. Barris still hadn't said a word.

"All of this has nothing to do with us," Brandon said, "Assemble the remaining mages. All of them. Prisoners, children, suspected Libertarians. I invoke my authority as a Grand-Cleric, all those who wish to transfer to the Circle of Hearth will be facilitated to do so."

"Ferelden has a Grand-Cleric," Greagoir replied, "And it isn't you."

"I hold higher precedence than she does," Brandon replied, "And as this is an act of transfer, it does not require Grand-Clerics to agree. The one with precedence wins. The other may object to the Divine herself. After the fact."

A rule designed to give those clerics with noble connections, i.e. most of them, the ability to rent out mages for profit. Naturally, if Grand-Clerics can order the transfer of any mage at any time, then it would be chaotic without a hierarchy. As you can imagine, Orlais' Grand-Clerics top the list, although Brandon was the lowest ranked in the Empire. But Ferelden was never high on the list of priorities where mage talent was concerned, and its Grand-Cleric was ranked second last before Rivain's.

"The Divine will order you to return the mages," said Greagoir with certainty, "I cannot allow that which Most Holy will overturn."

"You cannot know that," Barris said, speaking at last, "Most Holy is a woman of great vision. She supported us before, she may do so again."

Not exactly how I would have characterised the means by which we established a Circle. It was more like the Divine was convinced what we had done was a fait accompli, and wished to preserve the entire system from collapse. It seemed to have worked.

"I don't want to hear a word from you, Barris," Greagoir snapped, "As far as I'm concerned, you're a traitor. Your father will be ashamed to hear of your betrayal of both your country and your faith."

"He has betrayed nothing!" Brandon boomed, moving towards the elder Knight-Commander, "You have seen with your own eyes the gift bestowed on the Marquis! I have already confirmed that not a single one of our Circle is maleficar, not a single one! We have no intention of occupying Ferelden, we will be gone by the time spring arrives! You will afford your mages the opportunity to join us, as is my right to demand under Chantry law, or I will have you removed as Commander of Kinloch Hold, as is also my right!"

"Templars!" Greagoir called to our ranks, "Is this madness what you follow?"

"They have seen everything I have, Greagoir," Barris said calmly, "They won't listen to you."

"Then all is lost," Greagoir said, "War between mages and templars is inevitable. I have strived to avoid it for years, but if you continue wandering the lands of Thedas, your mages unchecked, the Order will have no choice to do what it must, regardless of what the Divine says."

"That would be blasphemy," Brandon said.

"Yes, it would be," Greagoir said sadly, "Yet that is what I fear must happen. Very well. I have no desire to see my subordinates die here, when they will be needed later. You can have your mages, but only the ones that volunteer."

"The children too," Tam insisted, her dagger still clasped in her fingers, "All of them."

The Knight-Commander spluttered a curse into the air, in a tongue I didn't recognise, before turning away and walking out of the room, two senior Templars falling in behind. The air felt physically lighter with him gone, and I began to hope we might get through the whole process without me needing to shoot anyone. Which was always good.

"My apologies, your Grace," Irving said to Brandon, "Greagoir has been greatly conflicted of late. The news coming out of the Free Marches and Orlais has not been good. There is talk of voting to secede from the Chantry from both mages and templars."

"That too would be madness and blasphemy," Brandon said, "It shall not happen."

"Speak for yourself," Armen sniffed, "If our Circle can succeed, then so can mage freedom."

"The Templars would make war on your kind," Brandon said, "And rogue mages outside of the Marquis' reach would do what all peoples do, use their power."

"That's what firelances are for," Julie replied, "Rogue templars, maleficars, we'll give them all silverite and lead shot if we must."

"I would prefer not having the need to," Brandon said, "If we can have these freedoms with the Chantry's supervision, I would prefer that. We have proven that it is possible."

"So far," Tam intoned, "I'm sure some saarebas will do something to screw it up."

"Shall I assemble the mages here?" Irving asked, ever the man to avoid touchy subjects. I decided I liked the man for that. He was somewhat of my opposite. I was great at winning fights, he was great at not having them at all. Not too often I like a fence-sitter.

"That would be ideal, First Enchanter," Brandon replied, smiling at the man, "I thank you for your graciousness in this. We also require a great number of herbs, I understand you can source them for us."

"Oh, think nothing of it," Irving replied, "I am sure we can accommodate your needs." He glanced at the soldiers, making it known that they were the reason for his compliance. He hurried off to do as he had promised.

"I wish we could get the Tranquil out too," Julie sighed, once she was sure the man was out of earshot.

"Unfortunate, yes," Brandon said, "Tranquil are considered the property of each individual Circle. We can't take them except by force."

"Which the Divine would rain down hell on us for," I muttered loudly, "We'll have to investigate the Tranquil thoroughly, when we are settled. They're slaves more than anyone else."

Julie hummed for a moment. Planning, as she usually did.

---

The mages filed into the room after fifteen minutes or so. Anticipating that they would be scared of seeing so many Templars and soldiers in one place, I ordered helmets to be removed and the majority of the soldiers to take up positions along the path to the exit. In case we needed to make a break for it.

The younger ones came first, the apprentices and children, escorted by the teachers. The youngest were maybe seven or eight years old, as cute as buttons. They waved at the Grenadiers and Chevaliers, innocent as can be. Several soldiers waved back, and the whole thing put wide grins on all of our faces. The teenagers saw the whole thing, and seemed to relax, understanding that our intentions were not harmful.

The enchanters, senior and junior, came in after them. Some were nervous, their hands over their mouths or shuffling on the spot once they had found one. Others were beaming, with hope I presumed. A few looked bored.

They all wore robes of very similar make to Armen's usual gear. Men had short-cut hair, women had neck-length hair, both had ponytails. They all seemed to go about in leather loafers. All confirming my suspicions about the narrowness of Circle fashion. Of course, the enchanters all had their staves, of which there were a great variety, from gnarled tree branches to all-metal types like Irving's own. None were like Armen's spear-staff, for the obvious reason.

Last of all, those mages that had broken the rules or displeased the Templars in some fashion were brought in under heavy escort. Six women and two men, chained at the wrists and ankles but wearing clean robes too. Probably having been dressed in them for the occasion. I felt anger simmer in my chest. The gender balance was hard to miss, and the Templars were mostly male. In fact, a majority of Libertarians tended to be female. I hope I don't need to point out the reasons for that, dear reader.

That didn't mean we'd be taking the prisoners without hearing what the Templars had claimed they did, but they needed to hear what we were offering so they could volunteer themselves to be examined in that way.

Brandon stood forward, the sea of eyes drawn to her.

"Greetings to all of you," she said, "You have been brought here today because a great opportunity has arisen. An opportunity to join the Circle of Hearth. I'm sure some of you have heard rumours of it, good and bad. I shall let someone more qualified explain the details, but what you need to know first is that this is sanctioned by the Chantry. Mages that come with us will still be accountable to law. The same prohibitions that exist within these walls will be enforced outside of them."

Brandon stepped back, and Julie replaced her.

"I am Julie Hunt, Marquise de la Fayette," she said, "As the rumours have no doubt told you, the Circle of Hearth provides the same freedoms as any other citizen to mages that enlist with it. Mother Brandon told you that the rules will still be enforced, but they are no different in principle to the rules that the rest of us have to follow. No one is allowed to endanger the life or liberty of others. That is all.

I'm sure you've also heard that we are at war. You will not be obligated to fight, but you will be obligated to work. For those that do sign up to fight, you will be assigned to the Peacekeepers under the Marquis, and you will be expected to follow orders given by your superiors. You will also be paid in accordance with the rank you earn. Ranks are only earned through merit and skill. We do not plan to stay in Ferelden long, and we do not plan to be at war come spring, at which point the situation may change.

We are trying to create... a better world. One where the poor aren't slaves. One where mages are free to use their talents for the benefit of both themselves and everyone else. One where the people rule, without tyrants. It is hard work. There are some who wish us dead for it, and the result won't be perfect, but that is what we are striving for.

Anyone who understands all of this, and wishes to join us, please stand to your left after I have finished speaking. Anyone who does not wish to avail of the offer, stand to your right.

The children will be coming with us regardless, we have enchanters who can care for and teach them, but those of you who have taught them until this point will also receive pay if you come with us to continue that duty.

Make your choice."

The mages barely let her finished before they started moving.

The teachers were first, splitting down the middle, moving off to either side as their desires took them. Those that moved to join us brought the children with them.

Like the prisoners, there was a clear divide. Most of what I assumed were the Libertarians were young women, moving as a single group. They moved off to join those who would be coming with, gathering more reluctant partisans with them as they moved. The prisoners themselves pulled at their chains and went too, their Templars continuing to escort them closely.

Tam, Julie and Armen helped people get to where they were going, encouraging people to join us and moving through the throng.

In the end, I would say maybe two thirds of the Circle's remaining mage population were coming along for the ride, although the exact proportion among the enchanters was likely in the opposite direction slightly. Better than I'd feared, worse than I'd hoped. Regardless, I was very happy to be getting the kids out of the damn Tower. Having them along might be hugely risky, but no one should have to grow up in a prison.

"Get those who aren't coming out," I whispered to Barris.

"Yes, Marquis," he said, regaining his old self, perhaps restored by the partial victory we had achieved bloodlessly.

I clapped the man on the shoulder for good luck, and he moved off with a group of his Templars to comply. Those that had rejected us began leaving the space, towards the staircase leading back to their quarters.

I moved over to the group that would be joining us, which had taken to chatting among themselves. I stopped just in front of them.

"Hi everyone!" I said, loudly to get their attention, "I'm Sam."

"Hi Sam!" came a cheery voice from below. Not a child's voice though.

I looked down. And found a brown haired dwarf smiling up at me from behind a large tome of a book, wearing shortened mage robes. Like Leha's twin, Leha being the evil twin of the pair. That's probably unfair really, this dwarf was a little easier on the eyes. They were of an age though. What the hell was a dwarf doing in the Circle Tower, I wondered to myself. They didn't have magic.

"Eh, yeah," I continued, confused, "Gather your things, bring warm clothes, and if you have boots, put them on. We'll leave tomorrow at first light. Say your goodbyes."

"Right," the dwarf said, "Looking forward to working with you!" She scuttled off quickly, bumping into people as she went and apologising profusely each time, before disappearing into a side room. Very confusing. I caught Irving smirking to himself out of the corner of my eye, and was about to go over and ask him what all that was about. But duty called.

"What about us?" said one of the male prisoners, shaking his chains, "Can we go get our things?"

"We need to talk to you first," I replied, "See what you were thrown in the dungeons for."

"Does that mean we can't come with you?" asked one of the female ones.

"Depends on what you were put away for," I said, "But don't worry, we won't take the Templars word as gospel. We'll investigate as far as we can."

"Gospel?" the woman said.

"Maker's honest truth," Julie said, cutting in from the side, "Don't worry, you'll learn the languages." Orlesian as well as Earth idioms. The prisoners seemed to take solace from her implication that they'd all be coming along, handily ignorant of Julie's warped perception where languages were concerned.

"I still don't think I have," said Tam, arriving with a young girl up in her arms, wrapped around her neck. The youngest apprentice. She worked damn quickly. But I took it as a sign of a new covenant. There weren't many clean victories in Ferelden. In fact, this may be the only one, although I consider another event along with it.

Despite what has been said about the event over the years, I was and remain proud that we got so many out before the wider Mage-Templar War broke out. The children most of all.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, I said I would get this out a month after the last chapter and here we are two or more months afterwards. Apologies to all my readers for the delay. But, on the bright side, it's a monster 17k chapter for you all to chew on. The rolling edit on this is going to be an absolute bitch.

We're moving through Ferelden very nicely now.

Thepkrmgc: Ferelden is the good guy nation of DA, yeah. Black and white is not how I want to portray the Free Army, not in the slightest.

Katkiller-V: Teagan's plan made perfect sense for someone who had the information he had, I think. Sam's anger at him is more rooted in his perception of military risk. If you're faced with an overwhelming force, there's no great dishonour in surrender on good terms. Considering the possible alternative, his terms were good. But you're right as to why Teagan told him to piss up a rope; ancestral enemies indeed.

I'm looking forward to the Wardens. Remember that they control Amaranthine, is all I can say for now.

As for guerrilla style warfare, they've only been in Ferelden for a week at this stage. Word has only really reached Alistair about the time Sam was sailing Lake Calenhad. Organised resistance of any kind is only beginning to materialise, and the exact location of the Free Army remains unknown. That complicates matters.

5 Coloured Walker: The Model 39 firelance is functionally an American Civil War era rifled musket, firing Minié balls, but with a flintlock instead of a percussion cap. I determined that to be the best weapon Julie could possibly make with the tech and materials she had, including with magical assistance. They could have shot Teagan easily.

Still hardball though. You don't have to slaughter everyone for that to be the case. And a good number of defenders were on the sharp end of that regardless.

Mireczek: Nowhere near enough people for an occupation, for a start. Hugely stubborn resistance after any victory, being another reason.

Dekuton: Exactly. Sam and Julie have to make choices about the survival of their people that are going to put Fereldan lives in danger.

The Fox Paradox 9: Thanks for reading! Gotta love the binge-read crowd.

As for your ideas; the Taint isn't simply a disease, it's a magical corruption, so a biological thing like a sack couldn't do much except keep the person alive but enslaved to the Darkspawn. Something similar to what the Architect did to various Grey Wardens.

The other idea with the tattoos has a great deal more merit. I've already established that elven runes could be used to suppress demon infiltration of reality in the Outlanders side story, and that is supported by Solas' magical devices in Inquisition. I may explore the idea of tattoos or magical brands for keeping mages safe from possession.

Eldagar: When I say arrows are nocked, I don't mean the bows are drawn, only ready to draw. I have tried to keep reasonably realistic with the bows situation, though I might have slipped here and there. Either way, I'm delighted to hear you like the story.

Viper0300: I will, thanks!

Amorphis700: I hope you read past Chapter 22, because Sam's hubris was punished accordingly. I wouldn't describe him as elitist though, merely frustrated with how backwards Orlesian and Thedosian society-at-large is.

Guest: It's a rare honour to be considered to have written a story better than a thousand others, so thanks.

As for your criticisms, see my comment above about elitism, for a start. Other than that, he's a man confident he's doing what is right in the long term. Doesn't help that those who oppose him tend to trend onto the evil scale strongly, so there's a sort of confirmation bias. We'll see how things go later.

As for foreshadowing, enough people have said it now that I've got the message. Tam is perhaps a bad example to use on it, because she was always going to survive and that's been made clear from the start, the how being the interesting part. Still, this chapter's use of that has been toned down, though I doubt I'll throw away the technique entirely.

ErzherzogKarl: Thanks for taking the time to make detailed reviews as you've read!

Is Julie a Mary Sue? I don't think she is. Circumstances appear to have created that impression, but it all follows more or less logically.

In terms of her political power, she has long standing ties to existing nobility, her ideas found traction due to grievances over royal disputes and economic problems following the Fifth Blight, and she has the backing of a strong military that was recruited around the ideals she puts forth. Still, that power has been and will continue to be challenged.

She's not an exceptional beauty. She is beautiful, yeah, but I would hazard to say that Tam is more so. A lot of other people wanting her has to do with power. Downwards with Pierre, upwards now that she's a Marquise. She's Orlesian, as are most of the characters that fit the profile.

Not sure she's acted selfishly, quite the opposite, she's a zealot. Perhaps that is a species of selfishness, but a different one. She has created pain and suffering, hunger and war, and people do worship her for it. But why is that? Remember that Hearth and the Free Army are populated almost exclusively with people who believed in her cause. The Army was volunteer only, the town boomed because of it in turn. They believe in the project. This is even more exaggerated when they are exiled, because those that wanted other things rather than her cause left the Army or went home to their families, leaving only the other zealots behind to join her march on Ferelden. That effect is going to be greatly reduced by events later, and we'll see how things go then.

What she has done is nothing compared to what the chevaliers have done repeatedly over the years, and what she does is for the benefit of those same victims. At the very least, she believes that, whether or not it's true.

Margaery Tyrell is a source of inspiration for Aurelia, yes... just not for her looks haha. Yennefer was the right answer there.

I'm aware the darkspawn have craftsmen, it's just that Sam doesn't really.

The attitude of the Army towards Ferelden is that of Orlesians. I wanted to make that very clear, that such prejudices don't just go away because of ideology. They are indeed foreign invaders, they understand this on some level.

The moral ambiguity of the whole movement created by Julie is very deliberate. When I was coming up with this story, I had ideas of what sort of country she would want to create, and then thought about the realities of creating it. History is littered with nations proclaiming x or y virtue requiring huge sacrifice. Yet people love them all the same. The US is a great example, and Sam is more than willing to tolerate what you may not precisely because he is aware that the path to liberty is strewn with obstacles, setbacks and temporary hypocrisies.

That doesn't mean your negative feelings are invalid, quite the contrary. Even in-canon, the autobiography is framed as an attempt by Sam to set the record straight, and he leaves it up to the reader to decide afterwards.