AUTHOR'S FOREWORD: It seems alerts were not working for the last chapter, so some of you may not have read the last chapter! I suggest going back and checking that you have before looking at this. Thanks again for reading!
Chapter Forty-Four: Schwerpunkt
We departed Kinloch Hold in lifted spirits, freed from our burdens for the moment.
The children were responsible for this entirely. The delight they showed on exiting the tower infected the rest of us. The weather had died down to merely being cloudy, so the smaller ones hopped and skipped their way to the ships, while the teenagers chattered to each other in the way that is familiar to highschoolers today.
It was a different experience to seeing the huddled kids of the Army, whom the parents kept as close as possible while on the march through Ferelden. Only our drummer boys and fife girls seemed to have any life in them, probably because they weren't being stifled by their parents' open worries. Or they shared the general élan of the soldiers they were around most of the day. Many were in fact orphans, long before I ever showed up.
It only took a few hours to reach the Calenhad docks, a set of piers next to a tavern for fishermen, teamsters and travellers on the Imperial Highway called the Spoiled Princess. We found two dozen longboats abandoned on the shore, presumably those the Loyalist mages and their Templar escorts had used to get out of Kinloch before our arrival. The tavern too was similarly abandoned, anything of value stripped out of it. Assuming its owner had fled, either from the mages or at the news they had brought of our approach, I commandeered it as our headquarters, happy I wouldn't have to spend the coin to do so.
We hunkered down to wait for the Army to catch up.
We had figured it would take four days, so we prepared accordingly. We constructed a small ring fort around the tavern and the docks, with earth ramparts and wooden stakes, and a watchtower on the hill beyond. We tied up the ships at anchor as close to the shore as possible, except for one.
I sent Fisher down the River Calenhad with one ship, to make sure there wasn't anything that could stop him getting to the sea. I sent a party of Grenadiers a day's march eastwards, to make sure there wasn't a garrison at Caer Bronach and cross the Dane above the falls there. I wish we could have brought horses with us, but we needed all the space on the ships for our people. The merchant vessels able to travel from the Waking Sea to Lake Calenhad are small by necessity. It's why Amaranthine exports the grain of the western Bannorn and not Redcliffe.
All of that took the first day to organise, and the heavens pissed on us the entire time. Naturally, the chevaliers didn't want to help dig fortifications and the newly liberated mages were very eager to. That suited everyone, thought it did cause some tension. It was very lucky that we had brought good provisions, including ale, from Redcliffe, so the tavern felt like a true refuge from the miserable weather and even more miserable work that night.
The second and third days were filled with boredom, and not much else. There was no expectation of either Fereldan forces or our own showing up. The rain stopped just as we finished work, to which I could only think it was damned typical.
The scene on the third day was as follows.
Armen, McNulty and Blondie began the training of the mage volunteers for the Peacekeepers, whom had been signed up and given orientation the day before. It might suffice for a large proportion of the Free Army to lack the military graces I expect, but it certainly wasn't for the Peacekeepers. As expected, all of the Libertarian mages signed up, whereas none from the other fraternities did. Naturally, this meant the recruits were two-thirds female. A source of much bemusement to many.
The troops either relaxed by the lakeshore, in the tavern, or were on picket duty.
Brandon was talking to the mages that hadn't signed up for Army service, seeing to their needs and talking to them at length about our experiences and ideas. Evangelising, in other words.
Barris was with a collection of his Templars, watching both groups of mages but the Libertarians in particular. All of the prisoners from the Tower had volunteered for service, none of them had attempted anything I wouldn't have. Two were accused of attempted use of blood magic to escape, but there was no evidence for that I could find. The Knight-Commander didn't trust them regardless, but left the complaining to Brandon, whom caved quickly.
Mariette had went off to hunt in the woods to the north, as she had the day before. A couple of Grenadiers with hunting experience went with her. Meat wasn't something we could take with us, and let's just say that the invention of the refrigerator was not high on our list.
I watched the whole thing from a crude, rickety chair I had dragged out of the tavern, mug of ale in-hand. We hooked up the music player to the batteries and speakers, and it was playing the classic rock playlist I favoured because it was the only one with songs I knew of. I knew rightly that the next week or two was going to be one shitstorm after the next, so I was enjoying the moment.
Tam was off to one side, with the youngest five or six of the mage children and the ABC chart, teaching them Latin letters in both Orlesian and Common tongues. They caught on fast, young ones are sponges like that.
Julie was to the other side of me, sitting across her chair and leaning forwards on the back of it like I was. Her eyes were turned upwards, moving across a nearby tree, her hands moving a charcoal stylus across large pieces of paper. The eagles were perched there, spreading their wings and grooming themselves. She was drawing them.
The first images she made were the complete animals, the basis for the Eagles we've sewn onto our banners and smelted into gold and silver.
The second were wing shapes. Both face-on and cross sections of the eagles' own at first. Afterwards, Julie's own thoughts. Wings she had seen in the books from Earth, and those of animals she had seen before, that sort of thing.
At about midday, she let out a colossal sigh and stretched upwards in her seat, interrupting Stevie Ray Vaughan's rendition of Voodoo Child.
"I'm bored," she declared, coming to rest again in the same position she was in previously, "And tired."
I was uneasy too, the lack of activity was unusual for me. Especially at that time, when every day was bursting to the brim with things to attend to. Redcliffe had been an exception, yet one I couldn't appreciate due to the Fereldans hanging around in the castle.
"Don't worry," I said, "Another day, and we'll be moving again. Things are bound to get a little too interesting."
"No, I mean with all of it," Julie clarified, burying her face in her crossed arms across the head of the chair, "How do nobles stomach constant politics? Do they waste so much money on expensive things and so much time on nothing simply to stay sane? If so, perhaps I've judged them wrongly all along."
Never thinking I would ever hear that sort of sentiment come out of Julie, I breathed out a soft laugh, earning a groan back from her in return. How to respond to that!
Tam quietly dismissed the children, sending them back to Brandon's group with a word and a smile. They scurried off past us, the very youngest clutching the ABC chart as she almost tripped up in front of me. I smiled and waved her forward.
"What brings you to these thoughts?" Tam asked Julie, as soon as the children were out of earshot, "Do you waver in your beliefs?"
Julie looked up from her arms, her eyes all steel. "Not even slightly," she said, "The idea that one person or one family or one set of families should rule forever is monstrous. I'm just wondering if I am the right person to make the changes we need. Yesterday, all I did was hear Brandon and Armen argue. I couldn't stop them."
No doubt many find this particular statement ironic in the extreme, but we'll get to how that came about in due course. She had indeed argued a lot with the Grand Cleric and Armen the day before. The Mage-Templar conflict loomed large.
I found her sentiment startling. "You were right about the nobles not tolerating our experiment," I said, "When it became clear they'd come to kill anyone who disagreed with their rule, you rallied the entire Eastern Dales to our side, you raised and armed soldiers, you chose the right people for the positions required, and you'll be largely responsible for the creation of a new nation. How could you possibly be the wrong person for the job?"
"Can't say I disagree, though it's … embarrassing to admit," Julie said, standing up, "But what do I know about administration? Commerce across the realms? Warfare? Diplomacy? Espionage? Close to nothing before I met you, and not enough today. I rely on everyone else to tell me the best course. I can tell right from wrong, and I can make things no one else can, that's all."
"That's more than enough," I replied, "Leaders don't have to be experts in everything, that's why they have advisers."
"They should be experts in something," said Julie, pointing a finger, "Something relevant to ruling a country."
"Knowing right from wrong is a pretty good one," I pointed back.
"Yes, but there are people with us that know that too," she said, putting her hands on her hips and looking up at the eagles again, "Along with having skills that let them help with the day-to-day stuff. I think Leha would make a better leader for that than I would."
I coughed mid-way through a gulp of ale, amused at the thought of Leha as High Chancellor. Thoughts of male prostitution as a state subsidised profession, people whipped in public for altruism, and the economy as a monopoly under her control flashed through my mind. She would have done it too, if allowed. Julie smirked, reading me like an open book.
"Perhaps a separation of duties is required," Tam said, joining Julie on her feet, "One leader to make sure principles are followed, another to see to ordinary government. Something to give you time to work on things you really love." Tam was a picture of happiness where work was concerned, after all. It was good advice. Julie could really use more time for her own projects, if the whole Army couldn't be considered one.
Like building a flying machine, I thought.
"Julie, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court?" I offered. With the notable exception of one cheeky elven mage, these two were the only ones who'd get what I meant. Julie would have made an infinitely better judge than the man that had sat on the bench during my first visit to Halamshiral.
"That person never gets to change anything," Julie replied, "I am not a great scholar of law. I am a radical and proud, I want to overthrow most laws, make new ones."
"You'd probably explode if you were in charge of a bas land dispute," Tam agreed with amusement, "There has to be some compromise."
My mind flicked back to the warning that Soprano and McNulty had given me. That some in the Army were interested in putting too much power in Julie's hands. Yet she clearly did not want it. I seized the opportunity.
"We'll figure it out," I said, "But for the moment, keep that quiet. People are looking to you like you're Caesar or something."
"I know they are, and I like that," Julie mused, pursing her lips, "I don't know why, but I like them looking to me for the answers. What I don't like is that I don't have all of them to give."
"Power corrupts, Julie," Tam frowned, "I have seen it myself. What happens when people think they can rule unchecked. You must be careful while power remains almost entirely in your hands." Our Qunari lover looked at me pointedly. Her statement was just as much for me as it was for Julie. Not that I needed the reminder, or at least I thought I didn't.
"Don't forget we have to stop at Vigil's Keep too," I reminded her, changing the subject, "We still have no idea how much time you have."
"Or if I will even survive the cure," Tam added, "About half of Grey Warden recruits die at the Joining." Never one to beat about the bush.
"We will make sure you survive," Julie said, "Sam's medicine will help, I'm sure of it."
"That won't help the others," Tam said, "And there is the matter of the Grey Wardens refusing to let us go after the Joining itself."
"I doubt they'll complain once they see our numbers," I said. There were only about a hundred of them in the entire country, after all.
"They can try stopping us from cracking open their fortress," Julie added, "The Grey Wardens are too few in number to resist."
We weren't aware of just how far their capabilities went at that time. Amell and King Alistair were people we thought as exceptional among Grey Wardens, rather than Grey Wardens being exceptional among men.
Ferelden had already seen what happens when the Order are underestimated; at Soldier's Peak, a few hundred held out against the entire kingdom for far longer than should have been possible. Part of that was the excellence of fortifications there, I had occasion to inspect them some years later, but assault after assault being repelled was also testament to the skill and valour of the Grey Wardens.
How far they fell...
I began to explain that wasting good powder and shells on the Wardens wasn't the best idea, but the rapid chomping of boots on the ground behind me. It was Mariette and rest of the hunting party, armed with composite recurve bows of the sort Ciara had made specifically for taking on large game. We didn't have radios, I had left them with the Army, feeling they'd be more useful there. I turned off the music with a groan, thumbing the glowing screen.
"Marquis!" Mariette cried out, "It's the Fereldans!"
"How many!" I shouted back, getting off the chair so fast that its front legs broke, sening it forwards in splinters.
"Too many for us," said Mariette, gesturing to the party of four or so, "They're on horses too. If you gather them now, your firelancers out can take them."
"Our firelancers," Tam said, correcting her. Mariette inclined her head in agreement.
"What if it's the front of the Royal Army?" Julie asked me, "Can we hold?"
"That's why we were digging these damned ramparts," I said calmly, "The rest of our people are only a day away. We'll hold. In the mean time..."
I turned around towards the mages, whom were looking over with interest at the commotion.
"McNulty!" I shouted, "Grenadiers, front and center!"
The general began snapping off orders, and the sergeants began shouting them. The Grenadiers around the camp began gathering up their firelances and rushed to the open space in the middle of the ringfort, forming ranks. The mages looked on with astonishment at how quickly that was happening, while the chevaliers on the ramparts ignored them, keeping a closer eye out on the wilderness beyond, while Fisher's people did the same from the rigging of the ships.
Blondie and Armen came striding up. Blondie first, clearly in a hurry to say something.
"Marquis, if I may be so bold," she said rapidly through her mask, "I am beginning to think you have no use for my chevaliers."
"On foot against cavalry?" I said back coolly, "Not much, no." Horses not being things we could have brought in any large numbers on the ships we had. Never let it be said that the Guard were not formidable fighters dismounted, but they didn't use spears all that often and they weren't light enough to go around chasing anyone.
"Guard the Marquise," said Tam, "It is not a competition. We all have our place here. That is yours, at this moment."
Louise's mask twitched sideways, the person behind it undoubtedly shocked to hear a command issuing from Tam's mouth. swivelled towards me, inquiring if that was indeed the order I would give. As it would keep her busy, and give me an excuse to keep Julie behind the ramparts, I gave a single nod.
"By your command, Marquis," the chevalier said.
"Same for you Armen," I said, "Your people aren't ready yet."
"Definitely," the mage replied, "We're still figuring out who can do what and assigning them."
With the defence of the ships and those unwilling to fight organised, I left the group, pulling my firelance off my back and into my hands. I heard the light padding of Mariette behind me, which was good because I needed her to tell me where the Fereldans were coming from. McNulty was waiting.
"Marquis, we're ready," he said, gesturing to his troops.
"With me," I replied, before turning to Mariette, "The enemy are on the Highway, right?"
"They were some way off along it, but yes," the harlequin replied, "Twenty or so on horseback."
"Let's go," I said.
I began jogging to the wooden gate we had made out of some of the longboats' planks, the chevaliers swinging it open to allow the passage of the regiment behind me. McNulty and Mariette were right beside me. Julie, Tam and Armen watched us pass, the former two wide-eyed with worry and standing straighter than usual as if restraining themselves from running to join us, the latter giving me an ironic two-finger salute for luck.
Both behaviours gave me new wind. Julie and Tam cared enough to want to come, Armen trusted me enough to know I'd handle matters.
It was only a short march to the Imperial Highway, on a cartway cutting through the thick forests that bordered the lake directly.
If the Orlesian routes are a six-lane Interstate, Ferelden's are a three-lane state highway. Nowhere near as impressive in construction or ornamentation, but more than enough for our purposes. Not entirely unlike the Deep Roads, in fact. Near the docks, they were still fully intact, even the ramps allowing access to them being in good shape.
The cartpath winds through the forest in an S shape, avoiding the hill we had built our watchtower on and its neighbour. This obscured any view of the Highway itself until we were at the ramp. When we got there, things began to get weird almost immediately.
A thick, thoroughly unnatural fog rolled forwards off of the raised road, pouring down into the forest and obscuring us. Unnatural not only in its suddenness and complete wrong timing; it was the middle of the day. Unnatural because it was tinged a slight green. Magically induced, I thought, it must be.
Recognising concealment measures when I saw them, I stopped dead, dropped to my knee and brought my firelance to my cheek, looking down the sights. The Grenadiers fanned out to the sides behind me, taking cover behind trees, the air filled with the sound of them cocking the flints of their far more primitive firelances and snapping on their bayonets.
When I ducked, most of the Army took it as a good idea to duck too.
I swept the barrel of my weapon from side to side, looking for a target, listening for any sign. There was nothing. Sound seemed to be muffled too. Straining to hear, I could have sworn I heard the neighing of horses. The Fereldans were somewhere nearby, that was for sure, and they knew we were near.
But if there was one thing I wasn't really afraid of, it was magic.
I stood up again and took a step forward, hoping my immunity might disperse the fog enough for the others to get a clear shot. As soon as I did, a half dozen bolts of fire the same size as my head burst from the mists and flew straight at me, sending the fog swirling at the points the fire pierced it. Quite the show.
The expected happened. The bolts burst against me harmlessly, the fire dying even before it came into contact with me.
Shaking my head just once to express my utter contempt, knowing the mage could see me, I returned his favour with extreme prejudice. I tracked where the bolts had come from and opened fire, sending burst after burst through the magical fog starting at the point of exit of the bolts and moving left and right outwards from it.
The Grenadiers lost little time in following suit, opening fire at random into the fog, the snap-echoes of the shots blocked by the trees.
I'm not quite sure which of us hit the opposing enchanter. He was only clipped rather than outright shot dead, probably protected by a decently powerful barrier bubble, but the fog died in seconds once he felt the sting.
Forty or so Fereldans materialised ahead and above us on the ramp. Very lightly armoured, only their captain having even a scrap of chainmail. They were all armed with spears, not worthy of the title of lance by any means. It seems they had planned to use the fog to incapacitate us, but instead, those on horseback were helping those that had been wounded or that had lost their horses to the Grenadier's volley. Only one or two lay killed on the ground, and they had been my victims alone.
Which should have meant we had them all stone cold dead. I felt a rising sense of victory in my chest as I saw it, their sheer vulnerability without the cover of smoke. Yet I noticed that no follow up shots came from behind me. The Grenadiers had shot everything they had. I was empty too.
The Fereldans' scrambled up the ramp and back onto the safety of the Highway once more, chased only by one or two arrows from Mariette, before the Grenadiers let loose their second volley. It did little but smear lead across the limestone face of the raised road, the Fereldans galloping away as fast as their horses could take them.
I cursed and kicked the dirt once, getting a satisfying clump of mud moving with the effort. That helped a little.
"Well, that's it!" I said, "Alistair and Anora will know by the end of the week that we're not going anywhere just yet. So much for the element of surprise."
"Marquis, surely you don't think they can defeat us," Mariette said, "Look how easily we saw them off!"
"With magic like that, who knows," McNulty said, "You're lucky you don't have to worry about magic, my lord. That attack would have killed many lesser men. Even Templars."
"That's nothing to worry about," I said, rubbing my neck and closing my eyes to soothe my frustration, "Neither are the Fereldans really. The problem is that once Alistair hears we're east of where we should be if we were leaving, he'll speed up the gathering of his army. Now we'll definitely have to crush it."
"Which is what Gaspard wants," McNulty said, completing my complaint for me.
The Army was three days late when it finally arrived, Isewen's Lancers leading the way in the morning, followed by the Avvars at lunch time and the rest of the army in the evening.
By which time I was tearing my hair out with worry.
It was a week long journey to Denerim from where we were. By the time our columns drew up in the night camp on the other side of the Imperial Highway, the Fereldan scouting party was already half-way towards their capital, with news that we were east of Lake Calenhad and heading deeper into their country, not out of it.
The only silver lining was that our scouting party of Grenadiers and Fisher's expedition came back from Crestwood and the sea, and they had found no waiting army or fleet to block our way. Even that was tainted by the news that Caer Bronach was occupied by bandits, and it sat right on the main route past the dam, the village and up into the hills. The Dane itself flows off a cliff and into Lake Crestwood, created by an old Tevinter dam over which the Imperial Highway technically goes.
The famous battle was fought on the heights above, because it makes far more sense for an army to cross the broad ford there than the narrow top of the dam. It was the route we planned to take.
By the time all our people had arrived, Soprano taking up the rear, it was halfway to midnight.
I wanted an explanation for the delay, but the war council could wait for morning. Not everyone was awake, and I wanted clear heads for discussing what had to come next. So, I organised the usual pickets and went back to the tavern, where I fell into the pleasant surroundings of a large bed and the embrace of two women I loved.
As at Redcliffe, I slept for a long time, but that morning, so did Julie and Tam.
I woke when Tam shifted slightly, barely conscious. Registering the movement, I cracked open my eyes for no other reason than I wanted to get a glimpse of what time it was. Julie was in the middle that night, apparently feeling cold. She was curled up in a ball between us under the furs, red-brown hair spraying out over Tam's arm where it met the Qunari's electric silver-blonde.
Nothing out of the ordinary at first glance in my blurry, fatigued, worried state of vision and thinking. I looked around, trying to get my arm up to check my watch to see if it was early or late. That action shifted my body and head, earning a groan from Julie. Which put a certain thing in my sight.
Tam's arm was spread out at the head of the bed. Through her skin, her blood vessels were black, a dark web stretching over her light grey skin. My eyes traced the lines to her shoulder and neck.
Pure terror flooded my mind, for Tam, for Julie and I. Did this mean Tam was as good as dead? Did it mean we were infected now too? Markham's assurances seemed utterly empty in that moment, the visibility of the Taint overwhelming them. My throat closed and I rasped involuntarily, struggling to breath. As soon as I drew the first real breath, I regained my senses and pulled away sharply, checking myself for the same black infiltration of my veins.
There was none to be seen.
I collapsed back down onto the bed with selfish relief, like the threat of my own death being gone was a real consolation. The realisation made me sick with guilt, and I corrected sharply, sitting up and looking over at the other two in the bed.
They were both looking at me like I had lost my mind. Perhaps I had.
"Sam," Julie asked, "Are you alright?"
"No," I panted, my mind racing to find the words, "Now, I want you to stay calm..."
"What are you talking about?" Tam asked with a yawn, reaching over to pull me back down. I flinched without thinking, not from her touch but because she was placing her arm in front of all of our eyes.
Julie was as quick on the draw as ever. Her own hand whipped out and grabbed Tam's arm in mid-air, her eyes going as wide as plates as they followed the Taint up Tam's arm and onto her body. Tam herself froze, finally noticing what was going on.
"We need to get you to Vigil's Keep now," Julie said, her voice wavering a little, "Do you feel any different?"
"No!" Tam objected, "I feel as healthy as ever."
"Do you think it's the tinctures?" Julie said, her head spinning to look at me, "They're black."
"Could be," I said, "For now, we need to get her to Markham."
Julie and I both grabbed Tam and pulled her from the bed to her feet, an indignity she tolerated with great grace. She simply shrugged the both of us off when she was finally standing, her stature and physique making it child's play. She turned to us.
"You need to call the war council," Tam said, "I'm not dead yet. I'm sure all the others are worried too, if this is happening to them. I'll go to them, try and calm things down. If you two aren't infected, then I can show everyone that they are not to be feared as contagious."
Another stab of guilt in my gut.
"Okay, that's a good idea," I said, banishing the thought, "Let's do that." I already had thoughts on how to proceed, cooked up during the waiting of the past few days.
We did as Tam said. We let her go to the medical tents, while I sent runners to the council to assemble. They did so in the common room of the Spoiled Princess, as almost seemed like tradition by that point.
The leaders filed in, feeling the sombre mood in the air and reacting accordingly. Armen and Ciara's cheery presences were absent, needed more at the medical tents no doubt. Only Mike, indefatigable as ever, kept her usual demeanour. Everyone else was cowed. That was how obvious the unease of both myself and Julie was, and no doubt we were scaring the shit out of some of them. When everyone necessary was present, I got straight to business, hoping to put them at ease by keeping professional.
"First thing I want to know," I asked, calmly but firmly, "Is why you are late."
Soprano took a single step forward to the large table we had chosen. "I take full responsibility, Marquis," she said, "I insisted on tactics that slowed us down while.."
I raised my hand to stop her. "I'm not here to place blame," I said, "We have bigger fish to fry, and I left you in command for a reason. I just need to know why you're late."
"We encountered the dragon cultists and local bandits, my lord," Soprano answered snappily, "The bad weather slowed our march and washed out parts of the route, and the cultists took advantage."
"Losses?" I asked.
"None," Soprano replied, "Colonel Isewen wanted to deploy her Lancers and the Avvars against the cultists directly, which may have sped our course, but I denied her request. Colonel Velarana suggested we use the mages to screen our advance instead, which was slower but less risky to both ourselves and the locals. I agreed."
"Good job," I said, to Soprano, Isewen and Velarana, "But now we have two problems."
I looked down at the map, and placed my finger at our position.
"Three days ago, a Fereldan scouting party attempted to recce our camp," I explained, "They came from the Imperial Highway. I don't know whether they were sent by a noble or the Crown, but they managed to get away with minimal casualties."
My finger tracked all the way to Denerim. "By now, they're halfway to the capital, with the news that we're coming."
"It appears I will get the battle I have prayed for," said Louise, her mask angled down at the table, "Assuming that Arl Teagan sent out the call to arms, we can count on the Royal Army make its appearance in a week, two at the most."
"It will take us a week to reach the junction of the Imperial Highway to the Pilgrim's Path at Vigil's Keep," I said, "That's assuming the Fereldans don't attempt to slow us down, which they almost certainly will if we give them time to organise further. They'll meet us before the junction in that case."
"I am going to guess that is unacceptable," said Barris, "There was a disturbance at the medical tents this morning, something about the Taint spreading."
"If you mean that time is running out for all the Tainted," Markham frowned, "You'd be right. They have shown the signs."
I swallowed a lump in my throat quickly.
"How long do they have?" Julie asked.
"A month until they succomb entirely," Markham answered softly, "But in half that time, they will begin to lose pieces of their minds. The dwarven tinctures become less and less effective over time. In truth, they are created to prevent the Taint from infecting a host, their ability to fight it off in people who are already infected is limited. This is why the black spreads in their blood, following the Taint as it spreads inside the bod..."
I held up my hand again and stopped him there, nodding to show that I got the picture. I didn't need or want to hear how Tam was dying.
"We need to move more quickly," said Mariette, "Yet we cannot."
"Yes, we can," I replied, "It will be difficult, and risky, but I believe we can."
"You want to split up the Army again," Soprano frowned, her guess exactly correct, "Marquis, is that wise?"
"If I was back home on Earth, I'd say no," I replied, "But the Fereldans are stumbling around in the dark, not sure exactly where we are or how fast they can move. Let's assume they make the calculation that they have a week or two before we reach Denerim. If we break that expectation, they'll get scared and we gain more time."
"And make it through to Vigil's Keep without trouble," said McNulty, nodding, "But how?"
"First thing, we load up all the industrial and smithing equipment we have on wagons onto the ships. Fisher, you can take them downriver to the sea. You'll sail to the islands off of Amaranthine. Is that feasible?"
"Very, Marquis," Fisher replied, "The Storm Coast has a bad reputation, but it's well known to all Jaderites. Some of the best fishing is there, and Ferelden has no real navy to speak of, so we know the region quite well." The man's name was no coincidence.
"Great," I smiled, that small piece of the puzzle cheering me up, "We can then use the wagon space to move our slowest people. We'll send up a signal for you to come into Amaranthine's harbour when we arrive."
"And if we never arrive," Julie added, "Get your families to the Free Marches and live well."
"The trick with the ships and wagons might buy you a day's march," said Leha, "Not enough."
"I agree with the quartermaster," said Louise, "All the more so if the Fereldans are using mages. They could ambush us at any number of points on the route if we are not careful."
"That is why we are going to divide the army," I said, "I will take the Peacekeepers ahead, fully mounted, every battery of artillery with us. The Tainted too. We'll blitz up the Imperial Highway, seize control of these hills overlooking the junction, and send the Tainted to the Wardens to be Joined."
"That will blow away the advantage of having the spare wagons," Leha said, "The rear columns would move too slowly."
"But the forward element of the Army will move much faster," Louise countered, "We could be at Vigil's Keep. The Fereldans wouldn't be able to tell it was only part of the Army until it was too late. They'd assume it was our entire force."
"Exactly," I said, "We're relying on the fact that they cannot communicate with their High Command fast enough. By the time the news that our forces have split arrives in Alistair's hands, they will be close to rejoining again."
"What if the nobles in the Bannorn raise their own vassals independently?" Leha asked, "They could attack without warning."
"That's why we're leaving the bulk of our forces behind," I replied, "I doubt the banns can summon enough troops to challenge the twenty thousand that will remain, even without magic and firearms."
"And they won't know the Army has split up either," Mariette pointed out, "Think about it. If they see the rear camp, they will simply assume it is the entire Army."
"Aha, a double bluff," said McNulty with a grin, "I'm beginning to like this plan. We can blindside them entirely."
"That's why it'll work," I said, "The first column marches out at noon, under Soprano's command. The second will march out tomorrow, after the fleet is loaded and departed. We'll assign the Isolationist mages to all three elements, and I've written down some colour-coded signals. We can communicate with them in emergencies."
I placed the piece of paper on the table.
"Julie, you'll stay with the rear column," I said, "If they see you are staying, they won't feel any less safe." I also had no intention of letting her watch Tam take the Joining.
Julie was quiet, staring at the map for a few moments. She wanted to argue it. She wanted to come. But she saw my logic, and her duty. "Take Ciara and Armen with you," she said, "You need someone to keep you safe."
"Marquise, that is my job," Louise bristled, "You have no reason to worry."
"Lady de Villars, you follow his orders," Julie replied with a small smile, "I appreciate your promise, but you can't protect him from himself."
"I wasn't aware I required protection from myself," I said.
"You do," Julie insisted, smiling at last, "And if you ordered Ciara to stop protecting you, she'd tell you to piss up a rope."
The entire war council broke out in raucous, unrestrained laughter. Julie's smile and her joke broke the tension of the situation cleanly, and the lack of it made them a little giddy. Enough to make them laugh far too much.
I shook my head, the sick feeling of dread that had filled me earlier lifting fully at last. We had a plan. A good one. I let the council have their laugh.
"Let's get it done."
The frantic preparations lasted the entire morning. The civilians watched with consternation, as their family, friends and neighbours prepared for battle. Bags were packed with a week's rations, powder doled out to and weapons readied. Then and now, I was amazed at the commitment of those outside the army as much as I was by those within it. Hearth had been a centre of revolution, and it showed in the exiles. And they all looked to us to secure the freedoms we had promised, in a land across the sea.
I intended to assure that dream would come to reality, swearing to myself that I would make it to the Pilgrim's Path before Alistair could block it.
We said our goodbyes to Julie and Leha, the former tearful, the latter pretending not to care but just as worried. The Peacekeepers, all but one of the regular firelancer regiments and the artillery gunners mounted up.
Eleven thousand or so, riding every animal worthy of the name 'horse' that we had on hand. Four thousand firelancers, two thousand chevaliers, squires and lancers, a hundred Templars, a hundred Hospitallers, nearly a thousand Aequitarian, Libertarian and Lucrosian mages, a thousand gunners Tranquil and accompaniers, a thousand pikemen, a thousand crossbow-women, a thousand Highlanders, and eighty artillery pieces.
In other words, every hard hitting part of our army, every unit that could take on more than their own number, every object of fear for those opposing us.
A note about the mage numbers; we had rescued about five hundred from the Wolf's Lair, but the freedom our Circle offered had attracted pretty much every secret mage in the Dales to us. You would be surprised how many mages manage to live their lives entirely undetected. No great notice was paid to it, because the increase in the numbers was subtle, a constant trickle spread out over time. Velarana also made great pains to hide it, even from me, out of fear of provoking hatred. Barris had cooperated, the idealist that he was.
Together with our Fereldan recruits, we had more than a thousand adult mages in total and perhaps two hundred underaged apprentices. This was in fact the first time I was made fully aware of the fact. The number that had served in the Army had only really been drawn from the original five hundred or so.
It was of no great significance before, but it would be later.
We did not ride hard, but not easy either. Say what you want about the weather, but the country between the Northern hills and the Bannorn is beautiful. The area around Crestwood in particular. From the top of the hillside, you get a great view of the lake, the village, the great waterfall, and of Caer Bronach.
Another notable place we passed on the first day was the ford of the Dane. There is a wide, rapid flowing set of shallows there, where it splits into two, the main stream continuing as the Dane and the second stream as the River Crestwood flowing to the waterfall. Not hard to see why the Orlesian legions would prefer it. For those that haven't seen it, imagine ankle high water the same width as a football field moving between two forests, with small banks protecting them. The second-most vulnerable potential route to Denerim from Orlais.
As I watched our own cavalry cross the river, Isewen's Lancers and Blondie's knights leading the way, I could almost imagine Loghain Mac Tir ordering his longbows to shower them with arrows, the horses slowed by the water and loose smooth stones under it. I imagined what would have happened if it had been my army facing Alistair's in the same place. The artillery raking the opposite side, the smoke wafting in the air between the banks, the firelancers advancing in line across the ford, the clash of bayonets and swords. The casualties such a thing would have almost certainly wrought on our people.
Had we played nice and asked for permission to be where we were, rather than striking hard and fast, it would have almost certainly been a reality.
The Fereldans are no less biased towards Orlesians than the opposite. The Orlesians believe themselves superior, not just the nobles but all the way down to the last peasant. A convenient piece of propaganda to keep the Empire together. You might be oppressed, but at least you're not under some savage doglord. The Fereldans themselves rightfully regard Orlesians as invaders, and could never have tolerated us in their country under arms. And we would have never disarmed.
The rest of the journey was less scenic after a while. Once we passed the road to West Hill, well worn as it was, it was karst hills and mountains to the left, farmlands to the right as far as the eyes can see for days on end. This was interesting in itself.
On the right side of the Highway, farm tracks, wagon trails and muddy roads found their way to the ramps, both the original stone ones and more recent earthen ones, across the entire route. Isewen noted the presence of many boot imprints in a number of them, confirming my assumption that Teagan had sent out a call to arms across the Bannorn to rally at Denerim.
On the left, it was obvious the hills were inhabited, and not by the Avvars or Dalish that might find the rugged terrain of use. In the day, smoke trails in the sky announced the presence of people. At night, the far off orange spark of campfires. No doubt they saw ours. I ordered that we light more fires than we needed to exaggerate our numbers from a distance, just in case, but one thing was clear. The civilians of the northern Bannorn had fled their farms, fearing the pillage and rapine of the chevaliers of old.
Needless to say, I think Soprano would have lined up every single one of Louise's cohorts and shot them had they acted as their predecessors had some fifty years earlier. But the peasants didn't know that. No doubt those further south were fleeing elsewhere, into the Southron Hills or the Brecillian. Alistair had conducted campaigns in those places and into the Blightlands aroung Lothering, making them far safer than before. Work that would be undone a little more than a year after we passed.
The condition of Tam and the others got noticeably worse as time went on. On the second day, they complained of fatigue even after a full night's sleep. By the third, some were hearing garbled voices. By the fourth, all of them were, Tam included. The voices were getting far less garbled and far more violent. Tam tossed and turned all of the fourth night, unable to sleep.
I had enough.
I brought her to Markham and gave her one of my two antibiotic medicines, in private. The voices died almost immediately, the black in her veins retreated significantly over the rest of the night, but the Taint remained. Unfortunately for the Tainted everywhere, it appears that only Earth-origin medicines have this effect. Experiments with penicillin made on Thedas have failed to produce the same results.
The fifth day marked two events.
The first was the discovery of our force by the Fereldans yet again. The Lancers spotted a strong party of armoured knights, and they spotted the Lancers. According to Isewen, they probably could have beaten our Lancers too, but drew off to report the news, no doubt having been ordered to find us by Alistair. Denerim was only two days away south-east from our position. As was Amaranthine to the north, our tantalising and final objective in Ferelden.
The second was our arrival on the junction of the Imperial Highway with the section called the Pilgrim's Path, where the faithful of Andraste north and south journey. Amaranthine, as well as being the prime port city of the country, was also where the Chant of Light was first revealed. Denerim is the birthplace of Andraste. The pilgrims in question arrive at Amaranthine, the safest port, travel on foot to Denerim, and back again. In the south and in the Free Marches in particular, it is considered proper to do this at least once in your life. For the Northern Chantry, it's usually only clerics that perform it.
Overlooking the junction and the River Hafter beyond was the imposing sight of Vigil's Keep itself, cut into the solitary mountain, separating the Fereval Plains from the Bannorn to the south, one of the reasons for Amaranthine's strategic importance other than its port.
The foothills made for excellent positions, particularly the two nearest the bridge over the Hafter. I thought to block it, but there were numerous fording points on it according to Barris and Louise, so there was little point. I ordered the army to dig in on top of the two hills and across the highway itself, which was not raised at this section. Amaranthine's walls were made of parts of the highway in the same manner that Redcliffe's are.
The cannon and firelancers were stationed on the hills. The cavalry, pike-crossbow tercios, the Templars and the mages would make up the centre, bulging outwards towards the bridge, so that if the Fereldans did reach the lines, we could back off into the small valley behind. I sent Isewen over the bridge to look for the Fereldans.
Only when I was satisfied that my orders for all of the above would be carried out perfectly, did we attend to the other reason for our haste. As important as curing the Tainted was, particularly Tam, it was far more important that the route to Amaranthine be kept open.
I ordered Markham to assemble the Hospitallers and the Tainted, and to join Tam and I in the single large tent we had brought for use as a planning room, behind the lines by the side of the Highway. Before we went to see the Grey Wardens, I had a present to give him.
He entered with his usual gruff aloofness, which you might mistake for utmost professionalism if it wasn't for his permanent scowl. That he was the polar opposite to Armen was emphasized by the fact that my companion followed into the tent directly afterwards, Ciara with him, his perpetual grin attached firmly.
I took a moment to appreciate the contrast, jarring as it was, until Armen jerked his head at the Nevarran healer, telling me to get on with it. I waved him off, and greeted the man I had actually ordered to be there.
"Knight-Master Markham," I said, "Before we attend to the Wardens, there is one thing I have to do."
"I don't see what," Markham bitched immediately, "We have everything we need. Time is of the essence." Shy about his opinions, the man was not. Lucky he was a fucking great healer, or else I would have found this less funny in a subordinate.
"This will only take a few minutes," Tam said, "We have something for you." Markham's scowl intensified, but he said nothing, likely on account that Tam was one of the patients he was so worried about.
I reached back behind me and grabbed the furled flag from the table. Together, Tam and I unfurled it between us, revealing it to the audience of three. It was a large white croix pattée centred on a black field, evenly proportioned, to my memory the symbol of the Hospitallers on Earth and now widely known on this world. Beneath the cross was a single word.
MARKHAM
"Every order of knights needs a standard," I said, "This is yours."
The Knight-Master looked at it for several seconds, and his scowl visibly reduced to the lowest level I had seen. I could have sworn there was a small smile on his face, but my memory might be wrong.
"This will be useful," he said politely, "Thank you Marquis, Mistress Tam. I will honour it."
I laughed, out of exasperation. "You're a hard man to compliment, Markham," I said, rolling up the flag again and giving it to him, "Get this on a pole and get it flying. We're going to Vigil's Keep."
"By your order," Markham replied, half-running out of the tent.
If only to shave seconds off the journey to the Wardens. Have to admire his dedication to cause, at least. He was going to have a heart attack if he kept up the pace he was going, I thought, which would have been a great pity. Lucky us, we were only two days from Amaranthine.
"That one is definitely an anti-social type," Armen smiled, "Needs to think more positive thoughts."
"He's a healer," Tam replied, "He sees things daily that would give you nightmares."
"You can fight nightmares with magic," Armen said, all wit, "One of the advantages of being a mage."
"Also a disadvantage that you need to fight your nightmares at all," Tam frowned back, "The rest of us just wake up, saarebas."
"He sleeps easily enough," Ciara chirped, "Let's go get you healed. No point waiting."
"No point at all," Tam agreed, "The Joining will save me, or it will kill me."
I suddenly wanted to wait a little. "Guys, can you go outside for a minute?"
Armen looked like he wanted to know why, but Ciara took him by the hand. "Sure, see you out there," she said happily, before dragging him away out of the tent's flap.
I turned to Tam. She knew what I wanted to do. We came together, and she kissed me. Not lustfully, as we had done so many times before, or as a small moment of affection. This was long but soft. The 'I might die soon' kiss, where only one of us was facing that outcome.
We broke off. "Don't die, god damn it," I said.
"I'll try not to," Tam smiled widely, "I think my chances are good, thanks to your medicine."
"You can take it again just before you drink the blood-lyrium cocktail," I joked, "Hopefully the Taint will be too weak to take you."
Tam nodded.
With that, we exited the tent and found the Hospitallers' flag flying over the column of a hundred troops, armed with firelances or mage-staves, and about a hundred Tainted soldiers. Enough to put on a show, but not enough to intimidate. I doubted that people willing to sacrifice their lives to kill a magical dragon were going to be taken with intimidation, not least the Warden-Commander. Markham was at the head of the troops, waiting with his arms crossed resting over the front of his saddle, impatient.
Both de Villars cousins, Louise holding Bellona's reins, and McNulty, holding my own UN standard, stood by and looked on. Ciara took the flag of light blue from the Grenadier-General when it was offered, and stood beside Tam and I, looking up at us with strange happiness. Regardless of what was about to happen, Ciara was glad to have known Tam.
I mounted Bellona, Tam mounted Fritz, Armen and Ciara mounted two Dalish coursers, Blondie and Mariette mounted their own horses, while everyone else awaited my command. Which I duly gave.
"Move out!"
The ride to Vigil's Keep from our lines was short, less than half an hour.
From the very first minute, I could tell it had once been an impressive defence structure.
It had two curtain walls, multiple watchtowers, and a central castle that was built straight into the rock of the mountainside behind it. The Orlesians had seized it as a matter of priority during their initial invasion. It had been the hardest nut to crack for the Fereldans during their rebellion. It was the site of a large battle in 9:31, a darkspawn army laying siege to it and very nearly taking it, as only a minimal garrison had been left behind due to a similar attack on Amaranthine required most of the Wardens to repulse.
The effects of the last battle on the Keep were still there, like fresh wounds.
The outer curtain wall was not repaired at all, and remained breached in several places, the rubble strewn about where it had originally fallen. The outer watchtowers were also smashed save the two on the central road. The inner wall and towers had been been repaired, but the stone used was different to the original, slightly paler. You could see where the darkspawn had attacked.
But the banners of the Wardens still flew from every part of the structure, grey griffons on deep blue fields.
We approached at a bare trot on the long, narrow path towards it, observed at every moment by a single archer on the outermost intact tower, until they decided to exit, sliding down a rope that hung from it.
"Looks like we just lost the element of surprise," I said to no one in particular.
"Did we need it?" Louise asked from one side of me, insisting that was her place.
"Nope," said Ciara from the other, her being there for much the same reason as the chevalier.
"We shall be testing whether or not the Grey Wardens are as principled as the tales say then," Armen said from behind.
"They are," Markham warned, "Trust me."
"That bodes well," Tam said, betraying no emotion.
We rode past the ruins of the outer wall, through the gateway, into the civilian settlement. It seemed to be a marketplace for almost anything, but for merchants rather than ordinary customers. Most of the buildings looked to be warehouses.
Waiting for us along the main street was a collection of people, civilians behind soldiers lining the road to the second gate. The latter of whom I assumed were Wardens. The detail that struck me the most was that every single one of them was decked out in silverite plate or chainmail armour. Not merely steel.
My eyebrows raised at the sheer extravagance. Admittedly, all of our firearms were made of the stuff, or their barrels at the least, but we had made them in the very centre of silverite smithing of Orlais, with raw materials taken from the largest silverite mine on Thedas. We hadn't bought it, and I assumed the Wardens had. In truth, there was a large vein of silverite in the Wending Wood, not far from the Vigil. Regardless, it made an impression.
Another noticed a different peculiar fact.
"Why are they all dwarves and elves?" Mariette asked, "Do the Grey Wardens of Ferelden not recruit humans?" Count on the noble to notice the racial makeup first, I thought unkindly.
Tam hummed in consideration. "That would fit the character of the former Warden-Commander," she said, "He was fond of burning down all conventions. The Arishok was fond of him for that, seeing Ferelden's traditions as useless at best."
I nudged Bellona towards the stables, which were large and empty but still not large and empty enough for all two hundred or so of us. It's not like we could have fit the horses in anywhere past the second gate, and they were still closed to us. I dismounted and tied up Bellona, before letting the others do the same and moving past the throng to see how our hosts were acting.
The silverite-clad soldiers had followed us, but their weapons were held at rest, seemingly content that our intentions weren't hostile. Or they had orders. The dwarves and elves watched us closely, shining in what little sunlight there was through the cracks in the almost full cloud cover.
I stood waiting for one of the Wardens to address us, something that took a strangely long amount of time. By then, the others had drawn up beside and behind me, the Hospitallers in company formation, the Tainted helping each other stand in no particular order, the leaders to either side. Our hosts seemed to change when they finally noted the blackened blood vessels across the skin of our sick comrades, softening and whispering to each other.
Finally, there was shouting from behind the guards and they made way. Three dwarves stepped through the gap.
The first was a huge specimen of a man... or dwarf. Looked like he could bend railroad, he was so well built. His red-orange hair and beard, the huge double-sided axe across his shoulder, the silverite armour; here was a dwarf as imagined by the people of my world. He even smelled right; of booze, exertion and cooked meat.
The second and third were a female dwarf and a younger male, which thinking back was probably about eight or nine years old, but I had no experience in judging the ages of dwarf children back then. The younger male's hair was the same as the elder, but his face was more like the female.
Parents then, I decided, but why were they all there?
The male dwarf's eyes quickly found the Tainted, and the look of pity that fell on his face was something to behold. He let out a colossal sigh, rubbed his face for a moment, before approaching me.
"I see why you fanciful buggers came to us," he said, "I'm Oghren."
He said nothing more and waited, as if that was enough. His reputation was supposed to precede him. Perhaps in Ferelden, it did. But not in Orlais. Tam and I glanced at each other, wondering just what he was expecting.
The female dwarf smiled at her male counterpart, not naturally either. "Warden-Constable of Vigil's Keep," she prompted.
"Oh, yeah!" Oghren said, reminded of his own rank, "That's why it's always good to have a fine woman around. Keep you on the straight and narrow."
His eyes ran up and down Tam for a few seconds. "Seems you already had that idea," he added, "Heh."
I found the whole thing so absurd, it was funny. I could have heard Louise de Villar's scoff on Mars, which made it even more amusing. I can only imagine what he would have done if Julie had been present also. "I suppose I have," I laughed back, "We require your assistance."
"I can see that," Oghren said, pulling his beard's two plaided strands in thought, "Good thing we have the materials. The Joining isn't just something we can whip up out of thin air. Sort of like a good drink, it requires ingredients."
"We know," Tam said, becoming impatient, "All about the ingredients, how the Wardens kill the archdemon, and how Amell survived. I was a confidant of the one you know as Sten. You are the dwarf he spoke of, are you not? Take us to the Warden-Commander, or give us the Joining yourself if you are in command here."
"If all that's true, how is the huge mute?" Oghren proclaimed, "Much better with his sword back, I bet?" Unphased by our supposed knowledge of his Order's secrets. Then again, he didn't strike me as the scrupulous type.
"He's Arishok now," Tam said flatly, "Leader of the Qun's armies and fleets."
"Really?" said Oghren, his voice more on edge, "That isn't good news for anyone. Vicious thunderhumper in a fight, that one. An army under him..."
"Agreed," Tam continued, "But right now, we need the Joining, so if you can..."
"We'll take you to the Warden-Commander right away," the female dwarf interrupted, before turning to her companion, "Won't we, Oghren?"
Oghren gave himself one last tug on his beard, before shrugging, which was no mean feat when you're wearing pauldrons of silverite. "Sure, why not?" he said, "She wants to speak to them anyway, but Orlesian or not, she's not likely to help."
"We have much to offer, Warden," said Mariette de Villars, "She would be wise to listen."
"She listens to who she chooses," Oghren said, "She's not as good as old Amell, but she's still more than powerful enough to blast you back into the Stone if she wants."
With that, the Warden-Constable turned and departed, whistling as he went. His son and his troops went with him, meaning for us to follow. The female looked at me apologetically.
"Have your hands full with that one, I see," I said to her.
"Tell me about it," she replied, "I'm Felsi. Welcome to Vigil's Keep."
"Are we?" I said, "Welcome, I mean?"
"Not really," Felsi admitted, crossing her arms, "Invading Ferelden will do that though." She looked at Louise and Mariette, both masked. She was only playing nice due to orders after all, as the rest of them were.
Couldn't fault her logic, military action is never looked on well by those who are the object of it, but I could hardly address the reasons for our actions before a roar came from ahead. "Are you coming or what!" Oghren shouted, "Don't have all day!"
Felsi brought us to the second gate with far more grace than her partner had shown.
"Right," Oghren said, "Bigshots only from this point."
"What about the Tainted?" I asked, "They need your damn cure!"
The dwarf puffed up his chest, bringing his axe into his hands. "If the Commander wants to give it to them, they'll be let through," he said, "They're not going another sodding step without her say-so!"
The inevitable sound of Louise's longsword sliding from its scabbard nicely demonstrated what we all thought of that, but someone managed to stop the action before it could be completed. I turned to find with surprise that it had been Mariette. I indicated with my hand for Louise to calm down, and patted the side of the firelance hanging from straps in front of me. The message being 'if I wanted to kill the dwarf, I would have shot him.'
Blondie got the idea.
"Okay, we'll comply," I said, "Take us to your leader."
Tam, Markham, Ciara, Armen, Louise, and Mariette came forward. The dwarf examined them for a moment, then nodded once.
"This way," Oghren said, "I swear, you're as bad as the pike-twirler, you lot. Need to work on your attitude. Need a strong drink. You do, I do, we all do. Big girl with the mask needs to let someone at her too..."
He continued in that way for several minutes as we walked, but that was as far as I paid attention to him. The inner section contained all sorts of buildings for the manufacture of military necessities, including a stone-constructed smithy and a tannery. These were all shut up, their purpose known only by the chimneys, the anvils outside, or the empty wooden racks for curing pelts.
The reinforced doors of the Keep opened, pushed outwards by still-more heavily armoured troops.
The inside was a fairly standard hall for an Arl's court. Large wooden columns held up the roof, the side supports hanging the Warden banners along with another one I did not recognise. A large fire pit stood in the centre of the space, circular and ringed with a knee-high wall to keep the embers from flying off and setting the place alight. A passage to one side led to a library, another to a stairway to what I would assume were residences, kitchens, mess halls, all the other things a noble lord and his vassals need. The place had been the family seat of the Howes, as I would learn.
At the back was a throne, atop three large steps, an even larger tapestry hanging behind it of a mage slaying a dragon with a stream of lightning: Amell killing the Archdemon. I almost stopped and applauded the masterful work of propaganda; everyone visiting would be reminded of what Ferelden and the world owed the Grey Wardens.
On the throne itself was a small woman of indeterminable age in mage's robes, a cowl over her head with the griffon motif sewn into it around the band. A staff with the same motif, in silverite no less, lay across her lap. Her hands rested on top of it, clasped together.
Oghren moved along towards her without hesitation, so we did too. I nodded to Markham to begin the plan we had for securing the Wardens' assistance, praying to God and Andraste that it would work. Because plan B was far less pleasant. Oghren joined his superior on the stairs, and waited. She had him well trained, I thought.
Markham paced ahead of us, taking the prime position as we came before the throne. The Hospitaller bowed at the waist, hand outstretched in the Orlesian fashion.
"Warden-Commander," he said in Nevarran-accented Common, "I apologise, I do not know your name?"
"Sidona Andras," the Warden-Commander said, "Acting Warden-Commander of Ferelden."
That she did not consider herself the real deal was worthy of comment, but the sight of Amell staring down from the tapestry above her gave me an idea. A wrong one, that she refused the full title out of respect for her predecessor, but still.
"Warden-Commander Andras," Markham continued, "I am Tobias Markham, Knight-Master of the Order of Hospitallers, charged with the protection and healing of the sick. We come seeking your aid against the darkspawn Taint."
Andras cocked an eyebrow at that, clearly having been caught off guard. "Do you now?" she said, "I thought you would have come to demand the release of my mages into your army's care, or come begging for supplies. Though I doubt you need anything of ours, you arrived faster than I or the Master of Horse expected."
The Master of Horse being Teagan, of course. We should have expected that he would send word to the Wardens too. But I let Markham continue.
"It is not our army, my lady," the Knight-Master replied, "The Hospitallers ride with the Army of the Free, but we are not under its command. And those suffering from the Taint have a great need of your help." Of course, Markham knew better than to defy the war council, but the Wardens didn't need to know that.
Andras grimaced, standing up and pulling down her cowl, revealing fuzzy dirty-blonde hair and the long ears of an elf. Which explained why it was hard to place her age. "Do not call me a lady," she said, "Very few do. I am only Acting Warden-Commander. The Landsmeet has not yet ratified my holding of the Arling of Amaranthine, despite my part in saving this fief from the darkspawn, and the King's personal intercession. They delay because of what I am. An Orlesian and an elf."
"You are the lady of this keep," Markham said sternly, "We do not care how they do things in Denerim, the Hospitallers recognise the reality of rank rather than the formality. As does the Free Army."
"If reality is your guide, then you know why I cannot help you," she said, before looking directly at me, "You are invaders. This appeal to my better nature to help the needy is wise, but I see through it. Would you have me believe that you will simply leave those who are Joined in my hands, and march off without them? That those I save would not be fighting the Fereldans? The King might well have my head if he discovered that I had saved those who fight to subjugate his country."
The Warden-Commander sat down again. "I know who you are, Marquis de la Fayette," she said, "Weisshaupt is interested in you. They have been looking for one of your kind for a very long time. They are not the only ones, I understand."
The Grey Wardens knew about the Outlander phenomenon, and it appeared they knew about the Tiberius dynasty too. I would have to ask Tiberius himself some pointed questions on the subject, if or when he arrived. Yet there was little danger of her being able to capture me, so it was easy to remain cool.
"We know plenty of your secrets too," I replied.
"The big Qunari girl with the beautiful bosom," Oghren interrupted, "She knows Sten. The Qunari lad who was with Amell and me, back in the day. Always thought he was a lost cause, but he made it big back home and he's running the show now. If she's to be believed."
"Is that so?" Andras asked Tam, "What did he tell you of the Wardens?" The Warden-Commander's fingers curled around her staff, in what was likely an involuntary, trained motion.
Tam's hand moved to her dagger, her mistrust of mages flaring up, but she spoke.
"Many things," she said, "The formula for the Joining potion, the cost of Grey Warden immunity to the Taint, how you kill an Archdemon, and how Daylen Amell survived killing the last one."
"What is the formula for the Joining potion?" Andras asked immediately.
"Three parts darkspawn blood, one part lyrium," Tam replied just as quickly, "And one drop of archdemon blood."
The Warden-Commannder nodded. "You pass," she said, "Though I am not sure how safe it is for that knowledge to exist outside the order."
"It's not like we're telling everyone either," I replied, "It's not of use to anyone. You control the only supply of archdemon blood. And in my experience, people get scared by blood magic. It hardly serves our cause to have people scared of the best defence against the darkspawn that exists." Although given the events at Adamant, perhaps they ought to have been scared before.
"If only you applied that wisdom to your other actions," Andras said, sitting back in her throne, "The mages in your army may be part of a Circle, but it is a radical experiment that has moved the world closer to war. One where mages are outnumbered a hundred, no, a thousand to one."
"Last I checked, Warden-Commander," said Markham, "No Grey Warden has ever succumbed to demons in the entire history of your Order, excepting during the Fourth Blight, where they became abominations in the last moments of their lives in an attempt to bring down as many darkspawn as possible. If you can walk the world freely, why must we be caged?"
"The Taint within us helps prevent possession," Andras said, "The weak-willed die with certainty during the Joining. The same cannot be said of you, Knight-Master. The Harrowing is inadequate to the task."
"The Harrowing is unnecessary torture," Armen said loudly, "Apprentices are not told they are to fight demons, and cannot prepare accordingly. It is insanity and cruelty."
"We are not here to discuss Circle politics," Markham scolded, "Warden-Commander, we can promise that those you save will not fight in Ferelden, and we have other things to offer too."
Armen backed down, Ciara taking his hand to comfort him as he shook his head in anger.
"Such a promise would have to be made in writing," Andras said, "And it would not be enough alone."
"What are your terms?" Markham asked.
"Halt your march on the capital," Andras said, "Ideally, get out of Ferelden entirely." And if we had on her word, her position as Commander and Arl would have been secured in no time. Very smart.
Markham looked back at me with wide eyes. He saw the opportunity, and wanted to know if we should tell her that it was our entire plan to get out of Ferelden.
I weighed the situation. We now controlled the road to Amaranthine, and whatever forces the banns to the north could rally would be vastly inferior. There was nothing the Fereldans could do to stop us reaching it, even if they did find out that was our true objective. Once we reached it, I was confident we could defend it for a month until Tiberius' arrived to evacuate the city. That was that.
"Warden-Commander, we never were marching on the capital," I said, "We were marching on Amaranthine."
Sidona Andras was silent for several moments. "I had considered that possibility," she said, "As a vassal of the King of Ferelden, I released the soldiers of the Arling and my Ferelden-born human Wardens to military service so that you could not do so. But it appears you were too quick for Alistair."
The news that we would be fighting Wardens if the Crown brought their army forward in time was not welcome, but it would hardly have been of any benefit to throw that in Andras' face.
"More important is why we're going to Amaranthine," I said, "It is the major port of this country, better sheltered than Denerim and less vulnerable to pirates."
"Good strategic reasoning," Andras replied, "But I still must insist you don't take it either."
"Oh, we'll take it," I said, "You can't stop us. But we'll only be there a month."
"A month?" said Andras, "What happens then?"
"A fleet of the Tevinter Navy and merchant vessels will arrive," I replied, "And we will leave Ferelden's soil."
The Warden-Commander grinned widely. She smelled the opportunity too now. "You require access to a city that I control," she said, "So you can leave the country. I don't suppose you would pretend that it was my idea?"
"We were exiled from Orlais," I said, "We were not exiled specifically to Ferelden."
"I'll take that as a yes," Andras said, "But still, it is not enough."
"What else could you possibly want?" Markham asked, "If I understand what you are proposing correctly, your standing with the Fereldan court will rise significantly if you can end the current war. That is payment enough for what we are asking."
"What you are asking is that I disregard the laws of my Order," Andras said icily, "You want to take your people after they have been joined, that is unacceptable without a huge consideration for the Order. I am stalemated at court, not beaten, the Order can exist in Ferelden without me as well. It cannot continue if its most basic rule is broken; that those who are Joined stay with the Order."
"We plan to build a new city in the Free Marches," Tam said, "If I and the others swear allegiance to the Order, we can form a new section there."
Andras made an appreciative noise. "That is very clever," she said, "Though I cannot formally agree to it, only the First Warden could make that kind of a deal, I could perhaps release your people and send a notice to Weisshaupt informing them of it. You already know the secrets that we fear would get out in similar cases."
"But what I require from you is a treaty, obliging your assistance in the event of a Blight. The assistance of your new city. Specifically, access to your blackpowder and the weapons to use it."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Everyone wanted the damn weapons, didn't they?
"I am delegated the task to sign treaties with whomever I can," Andras added, "That is the price of my cooperation, both in letting you into Amaranthine unopposed, and curing your people without forcing them to remain here. Or trying to. As I said, I am aware of who you are. I know you could kill everyone in this keep if you wanted to. I would prefer my Wardens to live, so they can die fighting more worthy foes." Namely the darkspawn.
Louise marched forwards to me. "Marquis, I would like to remind you that you do not need to make any deal," she said, "I have counted less than a hundred warriors so far. We can seize this place and search it for the necessary materials to carry out the ritual ourselves."
"But that would be pure stupidity," Mariette interjected, "The Warden-Commander has just offered everything we need at no cost in blood. If we play this correctly, she may even be able to convince the Fereldans that we are leaving, that no further military action is required."
"Except there is a cost," Louise countered, "Giving our weapons away to the Grey Wardens at a moment's notice? That knowledge may be sold or stolen from the Wardens later, and used against us. And what happens if the First Warden demands our people return to Ferelden."
"They are not asking for the weapons now," Mariette said, "Only in the event of a Blight. The Fourth Blight happened centuries ago, and the Fifth only occurred a decade ago. It is likely we will all be dead by the time the Wardens can exercise such a treaty. And if the First Warden attempts to force us to do anything after we have what we want, we can use force in return, when it would be more appropriate."
"Better hurry up, Sam," Ciara said, eyeing the throne, "I don't think the Wardens are patient people." Of course they aren't, they're dying of the Taint and their time is short.
The bickering between the two de Villars cousins went on, the elder arguing the military solution, the former the subtle solution, Markham telling them both to shut up but failing. Neither were brought up to be told to shut up by anyone except a direct superior.
"Enough!" Tam shouted, her voice booming throughout the chamber.
That succeeded in shutting mouths at last, to my great relief. Louise and Mariette backed off, deferring to 'The Mistress', their well-honed political skills telling them that defying her would be bad for their careers, and her daggers telling them it could be bad for their health. Easy to tell that sort of thing is going through the mind of a noble when they half-bow when retreating from you. Nobles do deference quite well, when the mood takes them.
"Sam, take the deal," Tam said, as conclusively as it was possible to get.
"Yes, ma'am," I replied. It was her life we were talking about, after all. If she didn't want to spill blood to save it, how could I possibly argue otherwise? With Fereldan knights roaming the roads, it wasn't a great idea to have another fight in the Vigil too. We didn't know how far or close the King was.
"Do we have an accord, Marquis?" Andras asked.
"We do," I replied.
"Excellent," she said, "Oghren, get the Joining cup, the vials and the lyrium. Bring them to me, and then bring those who are to be Joined here."
The dwarf gave a theatrical, sarcastic bow, mimicking Markham's own from before. Andras gave a throaty chuckle at his display. Markham himself eyed the dwarf, displaying his displeasure at being mocked, but it bothered the dwarf not one bit. The two Wardens got on like a house on fire, I thought. No wonder they sent her to Ferelden, I doubt Orlais appreciated that sense of humour. Oghren marched out of the room via the library chamber, whistling again.
"He was a companion of the Hero of Ferelden?" I asked, once he was gone.
"So they tell me," Andras replied, "And that he was even more drunk back then than he is today. But he is one of the most capable warriors the Order has, perhaps ever had."
"Then two miracles have occurred today," I said, "Hopefully, our luck doesn't run out."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: It seems the alerts for the last chapter did not go out, which is highly annoying, but it has fixed itself since.
We're moving through Ferelden quickly now.
It appears this arc is as controversial as I thought it would be. Glad to see the desired effect.
Okiro: Well, worry not, the updates will be coming more quickly from now on.
There was indeed a tonal shift, reflecting the bad situation that the Free Army has found itself in.
The characters can't know what was happening in the rest of Thedas, they've been out in the wilderness for the entire time, out of contact with the information network that Leha has or any other real source of news that they can access. That will be changing very soon. Ferelden, due to the changes made by Amell and Alistair, is obviously the least affected by the shitstorm Sam has unleashed, but you can already see its effects in the Tower, with regard to the Templars and the implications of harsh treatment towards Libertarians in particular.
Julie is only a Joan of Arc figure to the Eastern Dales at the very most. Probably more accurate to narrow it down to the Free Army and the people of Hearth. Whom are also fanatics. Of course they're going to singing praises of her. That didn't come out of the blue either. I very specifically laid out why the Hearthlands were so ripe for revolution, and for a revolutionary leader. They had gone through a war between the barons two years before Sam's arrival, in which Julie's own step-father had died. That war had largely been the result of the effects of the Fifth Blight, which messed with farming and set darkspawn raiding on the land. They were heavily taxed by chevaliers that had utter contempt for their lives and livelihoods. Julie stepped into that environment with a message of freedom in one hand, and a firelance that allowed a peasant to kill a chevalier with ease in the other. I specifically modelled the revolt she caused on the peasants' revolts of England, where such figures led more often than not, and even nobles got on board on occasion.
What do you think the Fereldans think of Julie?
Did she make mistakes? Sure. But remember that you're viewing it with both the benefit of hindsight, as written down by Sam decades later, and with the benefit of being objectively removed from the situation. I think I've made it perfectly clear that Sam, and Julie, accept their actions as wrong but submit they did not see alternative actions at the time or believe they could not have acted any other way in the circumstances. While readers can submit alternatives that would have been better, that doesn't mean that the characters themselves could have seen or accepted them.
I didn't want to write about existing characters as my main protagonists. I already do that in Battlefield 2183, and I prefer writing OCs. That you don't like it isn't something I can fix, you know?
Still, thank you for the in-depth reviews, I appreciate them more than you can possibly know. I enjoy watching readers unpick the threads. I think it makes me a better writer ultimately.
Katkiller-V: I'm glad to see the alerts are back up so I can be informed of your releases!
This chapter largely sets up something later. I hope the Wardens' interaction didn't disappoint. I think people were rooting for a refusal of aid, which I just don't view as being particularly realistic. Neither would I have thought of the Wardens complying without a high cost as being realistic. Or that they would do nothing to aid Alistair. Hence what happened.
I'm glad someone understands how much of a zealot/fanatic Julie is! It's a fairly large theme of the story.
Thepkrmgc: Dagna has indeed! I'm surprised you're the only one to comment on it. Gregoir, the moderate? I would call him pretty staunchly conservative, he just appears moderate next to a certain other Knight-Commander's fanaticism.
Guest: Muchos gracias, lad.
Makurayami: The werewolves won't be showing up, and what happened to them won't be addressed in the story, so I'll just do so here.
Amell defied the Dalish Keeper and reconciled the elves and the werewolves, curing them, simply because he was pissed off at the attempted manipulation. He didn't like doing other people's dirty work against his will. The werewolf survivors are still in the Southron Hills bordering the forest.
I would have liked to have the Free Army fight the werewolves, but it clashed with too many elements of the canon I wanted to establish for Amell, so it didn't happen.
Infieri: I like Asala too. You will see more of her.
ErzherzogKarl: Deary me, that is a long review.
Glad you like Mariette's increased involvement. It occurs to me we haven't really seen more of the stereotypical Orlesian noble, because it would be hard to integrate one. A relative of Louise was the solution to that.
I guess Julie is both a zealot and a fanatic by those definitions, to varying extents.
On the points you made about Julie being a Sue:
- She did not make a dictionary, she deciphered the Latin alphabet. With Sam's help. Common is the same language as English, Orlesian is French, they even use more or less the same spellings, they just use dwarven runes instead of Latin letters. What Julie did was start using the Latin alphabet, which was no great feat of genius, and she did so because Latin letters are more simply and easier to print.
- She could read and understand 'foreign' books with 'foreign' words because she had Sam to question on matters that she didn't quite understand. Sam is himself a college graduate, courtesy of the US Army.
- She isn't truly capable of transforming memetic knowledge into kinetic actions. I presume you made that assumption because she became proficient with the handcannon and firelance. She did that by remembering the bullet's path when she lined up the sights, and simply repeats the action for the same result. She couldn't do the same with a bow and arrow, or with a sword, because that requires far more physical exertion. Perhaps she could with a crossbow, because that's also a point and shoot weapon. She is also not on Sam's level.
- An intellect on the scale of Einstein? With inventiveness like Da Vinci? I've made the latter comparison through Sam myself, but he has the benefit of hindsight. Julie has created very few things, and very few things on her own. Blackpowder was mostly Armen's doing, Julie is not an alchemist whereas Armen is as close to an omnidisciplinary scientist as you get, trained in many arts from a young age. Firelances were a collaborative effort between Armen, herself, and a third person who hasn't been introduced yet. They're not particularly complicated, they're US Civil War era rifled muskets with Revolutionary War era firing mechanisms, and she had the assistance of both Earth knowledge and magical manufacturing. The rockets she made are of the same century, we are not talking about guided missiles or even WW2 era Katyushas (although she was inspired by the latter). I deliberately ruled out creating more complex weapons, or other things like steam engines, until much more time had passed. I'm still not sure the timeframe I have for the story will ever let me include that sort of thing with one particular exception.
- The firearms she makes are not advanced. They're as advanced as it was possible for her to make with materials, capabilities and people she had on hand, but they're only one or two steps ahead of what the Qunari could make if they bothered their ass.
- She did not make a kneejerk declaration of war against a whole empire, she declared a civil war before the Empire broke out in one and came to crush everything she had worked for and kill everyone she had loved. And if the military victories had continued, the empire's own strength could have been turned against it. That's what revolution does.
- Peasants care about themselves in Orlais and play the Game how they can, regardless of what the nobles think, and nobles only caring about nobles is precisely why Julie was not targeted by the assassins. As far as the enemy was concerned, Sam was the real threat, Julie was a whore who had latched onto him.
- Surviving an assassination attempt is not evidence of Sue-dom in itself.
On the Grand-Clerics:
Orlais has the largest population by far, it has the seat of the Chantry, it has the most Grand Clerics, and those in Orlais naturally play the Game far better than those outside it. Other countries have multiple Grand-Clerics, Nevarra has a large number, the Free Marches have plenty but they're divided. Ferelden and Rivain are less populated and more remote, and hence sit at the bottom of the hierarchy. Hierarchy benefits any potential Divine more than equality ever would. She can offer better seats of power to those that vote for her, and threaten to relegate those who refuse to lower posts without outright ruin. Not sure why those who will never be Divine would want equality either, except those that are more or less powerless like the Fereldan or Rivaini clerics. It's a competitive political arena like any other, and it's not a republican one by any means. Equality wouldn't serve anyone. Winning by promising equality would be meaningless.
The situation with the Chantry is a plot point for later. Right now, the Army is out in the wilderness and Ferelden is weeks away from Val Royeaux even by ship. However, I must disagree that the Hearth Circle shows why mages are to be feared. They are not the inciting element of the troubles, not by a long shot, and no magical crimes have occurred within the Free Army (yet).
The Circle:
- Numbers of mages: Generally, I view there to be a game-story separation on this issue, as well as a canon clash. The population of Ferelden (excluding Avvars, Chasind etc) is a million, Orlais has twenty million, in 9:31. We can assume those numbers are more or less the same in 9:39. Being conservative, maybe 0.1% of the population are mages. That means there are a thousand mages in Ferelden, twenty thousand in Orlais. But that's very conservative. Dialogue with Vivienne suggests it's higher, she says it's a "hundred to one". Something I alluded to in this chapter, I might add. So the range is more like 0.5 to 1%. That's five thousand to ten thousand mages in Ferelden alone. I heavily prefer the former figure.
We can talk about how many are killed, how many hide their talents, how many flee to the Wilds or abroad, but we're still talking about a lot of mages.
- Libertarians: Yeah, there's Uldred, but there's also Amell. Who saved Ferelden. Who demanded and received greater rights for mages. Whose demands did not lead to disaster, creating a new wave of freedom for mages in the country. The Libertarian arguments would not only be heard, they'd be in full swing by 9:39. That's largely portrayed in canon as-is. The Aequitarians were already beginning to waver by then, Wynne's power largely keeping things in state. Kirkwall certainly didn't help their argument, and it was far more recent and far more decisive than Uldred's mess.
- Kinloch Hold was the most liberal of Circles after the Blight. Then came Kirkwall. Which hardened Templar opinion, which redistributed Templars from there to all the other Circles, which caused the mages to move forwards and cause yet more dehumanisation of their kind in a vicious circle, mind the pun. I wanted to portray that space of time between Kirkwall and the open declaration of war by Fiona and the last vote, where things were getting worse for mages, where Kirkwall's abuses were being spread to other Circles by Templars that used to be stationed there. Even in Ferelden.
- There are already children moving with the Free Army, and considering both Templars and Mages consider war to be inevitable, taking them along is hardly any great moral conundrum compared with leaving them to be caught in the crossfire when that shitstorm hits. The Free Army isn't putting the children in any danger by taking them along either, they're not going to be on the front lines and the Fereldans aren't going to be slaughtering civilians under Alistair's watch.
The Wardens:
- Amaranthine and its status: The Grey Wardens remain independent, but rule the arling in the Crown's name. It's an ambiguous situation to say the least, but one repeated elsewhere on Thedas. Orlais comes to mind. The Wardens supposedly have estates there to support them, granted by the Imperial Throne. You're quite right that helping the invaders would be high treason, except if that help is in line with either the Crown's interest or the Grey Wardens' code. Getting Sam and his army out of Ferelden ASAP, and making sure Alistair signs off on that plan, is not high treason. Joining the Tainted soldiers and Tam to cure them of the Taint is not high treason, it's what the Grey Wardens do generally.
You'll have to wait and see how that all goes, mind. Amaranthine was indeed the centre of the Orlesian occupation. They ruled from there. Obviously, things are not forgiven either, or else Sam and Julie wouldn't have thought they had to fight their way across the country in the first place.
- The Tropes: The correct trope you're looking for is Chekov's Armoury.
Nobody Dies in itself is not necessarily a bad thing. Killing off characters for shock value isn't always worth it. And with autobiographical stories like this, it is far more cliché.
Karma Houdini isn't applicable at all. Vivienne is not an example of it. Sam didn't do "nothing" to her, he took her as a prisoner of war, which is what he was trained to do to people who want to kill him but are helpless and can be kept that way. This is in sharp contrast to the Chantry fanatics in Hearth during the riots, who he couldn't keep that way and almost certainly would have continued to try harming those he loved. While one might seem needlessly merciful and another needlessly bloodthirsty, in the context of who Sam is and has always been portrayed to be, they make perfect sense. There are times where Sam is bloodthirsty, but they are always moments where he loses control for one reason or another, as all humans occasionally do.
- Splitting the army: The logistics of this is dead easy when there's a big fuckoff highway to follow.
The part of the Army that left on foot was under the command of Soprano, by far the most fanatical Libertarian of the military staff, and also the direct commander of the most formidable unit in the entire army: the Rangers. You think for a second she'd let the chevaliers or Avvars run riot? That they wouldn't be facing the firelancers themselves if they did? Remember that the chevaliers have seen those weapons in action themselves.
Fisher being able to navigate Lake Calenhad is not a surprise. He's a sailor, and he's familiar with the waters, being from Jader, which is not a great distance from the north of the lake by any means.
As for his people, recall that he was introduced long before the Fereldan arc, and when they arrived, they were not coming as some naval recruits to boost the Revolution, but as refugees fleeing from Jader. They are not some deus ex machina, they are not 'conveniently there at the right moment'. They were a burden long before they were an asset. That they are an asset now is not bad plotting. Will they remain an asset? Who knows.
Julie's Selfishness: She follows her own instincts as a leader, that's not evidence of selfishness. Nor does she follow them exclusively, she has followed Sam's advice more often than not. It's just the big one of laying low instead of organising revolution she didn't really follow, and that wasn't really Sam's decision alone to make. He was the selfish one there as much as she was.
The chevaliers' initiation rite is not public knowledge. De Chevin has to explain it in the Masked Empire book, and to someone who ought to be knowledgeable about such things. The requirement to kill an elf is a secret. Julie doesn't know about it, the elves in the Army don't know about it, and I doubt the chevaliers themselves will be advertising it. I've been thinking about making that a plot point for the Inquisition arc, specifically at the Winter Palace, but we'll see.
As for what they're doing in Ferelden, Julie hasn't come close to ordering what Orlais did the last time. She's stormed one town, because she had to, and she tried to negotiate beforehand. The Free Army has not burned farms and killed civilians indiscriminately. You can talk about the lack of justice in fighting a war against the country, sure, but it is being conducted with utmost adherence to discipline and the ideals we hold here on Earth. That doesn't mean the Fereldans are going to be forgiving in the slightest, but Julie can't be compared to the Mad King, it's ridiculous.
And of course Sam and Julie don't see themselves as monsters either. You speak about Orlais' prejudices, Ferelden's are just as strong the other way. They're also responsible for the safety, liberty and lives of everyone in that Army. Entrusting it to the prejudices of the Landsmeet and the freeholders, as you so helpfully pointed out, would be utter madness.
They are tyrants killing innocents from the perspective of the Fereldans. They are patriots doing what is necessary and no further from the perspective of themselves. They are saviours to those they are saving, making the best of a bad situation. Objectively, they are deep in very ambiguous moral territory.
All that said, you've struck the nail on the head for the tone I'm going for. This is indeed the Red Wedding Arc.