Chapter Forty-Six: Summit
I awoke the next day, as stiff as a plank, aching all over. The sound of the rain tapping on the tent canvas above my head was what did it, rather than the cold that left the breath smoking. Something to be thankful for given how many corpses were within a click of our camp. We moved it to the peaks of the hills, on the lee side to where the fighting had been, to avoid getting washed out in the night.
If the rain had arrived only a few hours earlier than it did, we might have lost the battle.
My pains preventing me from simply sitting up, I rolled over onto my stomach and pushed myself up in the furs. At which point my eyes drew level with the other occupant of the bedding.
Mariette de Villars lay breathing softly beside me, her eyes closed, her mask missing, hair tangled across her face. Utterly asleep. In my addled mind, I couldn't help but think her face looked like a sleeping she-wolf. Both de Villars cousins had that sort of face, high cheekbones and sharp-when-closed wide-when-open eyes. Very lupine. Very French.
I snapped out of my inane thinking on the subject to address the proper question. What the hell was she doing there?
I quickly looked both her and myself up and down. Any trepidation about what I might not remember drained out of me. She was still dressed in the light hunting outfit she had been in the last time I saw her, and the clothing didn't appear to be in any disarray. I was still in the linen shirt and combat fatigue pants I was wearing before I went to sleep.
Suddenly, the image of what just had brought Mariette to be sleeping there flashed in my mind, and I felt a broad grin come across my face. There was nothing for it, I left her to her own devices and got up. Dressing in fatigues and washing, my watch told me it was early in the morning. Beginning of morning watch. Perfect.
I went to the table where my heavy firelance was perched, still half covered in mud and blood, leaning over it to inspect the barrel. Including the gleaming cut in its side, exposing the bore. That barrel was on its last legs by the standards of my home, but still could have done reasonable service for another battle or two. It wasn't ammunition for my firelances that was the problem really, I had thousands of rounds left. It was the weapons themselves. The heavy firelance, capable of firing hundreds of rounds before needing to be reloaded, now only had one barrel spare.
Sighing, I traced my finger over the wound on the metal. It really was a waste that it had taken the hit. But better than paying with my life. Warden-Constable Howe's face in my memory of the event was snarling, determined to kill, red with exertion and the cold.
I heard the soft movement of fur behind me and the restrained breath of a yawn, I grabbed a cup, poured some water into it from my flask and turned around. Mariette was sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and placing her hair back to some semblance of civilisation with expert skill. Skill I don't have, which is why you wouldn't catch me dead with long hair.
"Morning, sunshine," I said, holding out the water for her to take, "Sleep well?"
Mariette looked up at me with raised eyebrows, confused why I wasn't reacting with anger or surprise as far as I could tell. She took the water offered and sipped it.
"Wandered into the wrong tent," she explained quickly, between sips. I had to restrain my sides from splitting open.
I became annoyed at her dishonesty, feeling the fire in my gut rise. If she was going to act like this, she could at least be truthful about it.
"If that's the story you want to go with," I replied with a shrug, "I don't buy it for a moment." I began grabbing my combat webbing and the assault firelance I had brought as a spare, throwing both onto me. I heard the movement behind me.
"What do you mean by that?" Mariette said, coming close enough for me to feel her body heat, "Why does this suddenly irritate you?"
'This' meaning her continuous flirting. I turned to her, finding her look up at me. Which made me more irritated, sending me gritting my teeth. She had already kissed me. It needed to stop there.
"You don't need to do it any more," I replied, "You've spilled blood with me, for me, you don't need to pretend to want to sleep with me to gain influence. You've proven yourself already."
What happened next was truly a thing of wonder. Mariette de Villars turned a deep red. I took it the wrong way. I put my hands on her shoulders and looked her dead in the eye.
"I'm serious, whatever it is you think you need to do is unnecessary," I continued, "You're one of us now." And to hell with using your body as currency, fair maiden.
Mariette hadn't hesitated for a single second to put herself in more harm's way than pretty much any of my soldiers. She had ducked and weaved through the enemy's front like a gymnast. A gymnast with knives. She had won her place. Just like her cousin had. Both of them nobles of the most impeccable breeding.
That last part is something that will be very relevant, dear reader, as I am sure those of you with a good reading of history will know.
The bright blue orbs looked back at me unblinkingly, searching my face for … God only knows what. And then she bolted out of the tent, without so much as another word, having put on her boots at some point unnoticed to me. She just became a blur and disappeared.
I sighed deeply and looked at the ceiling, the rain once again the only thing to be heard. I got the feeling that Mariette was going to be a problem. For entirely the opposite reason I had thought she would in the beginning. I rubbed what remained of sleep out of my face, feeling it helped me think about what just her malfunction was.
"Sam," said a voice.
I turned around, and found Armen standing just inside the tent. His grin missing, replaced my a dark look of disappointment and narrowed eyeslits.
"You didn't..." he said.
Indignant fire rose in my throat at his assumption.
"No!" I blurted out, "I mean, she snuck into my bed to try, but I was asleep and she just fell asleep beside me... This doesn't sound very convincing." I had been gesticulating the entire time, between waving at the flap and pointing at the furs. Didn't look very convincing either, in other words.
Armen's grin returned, my inability to get my story straight obvious proof in his mind that I was innocent. If only because the fear of losing Tam and Julie after all we had been through over rolling around with Mariette seemed overwhelming. More so than a charge of Fereldans, apparently, but that is just who I am. That gets jaded after a while.
"Sorry," he smirked, "I think women just prefer high status men."
His change in demeanour annoyed me.
"Please tell me you're here because Tam is awake?" I asked, resuming my calm.
In response, Ciara poked her head through the tent flap, her dirty-blonde hair turned a solid brown in the damp. "No, we're here because the King is awake," she said, "And he wants to see you."
I scratched my chin, thinking about that. I really didn't want to be conducting negotiations. Wasn't even sure I was allowed to. Who was responsible for what in our army beyond military affairs was either entirely vague or consisted of the maxim 'Julie Hunt is Imperatrix Mundi'.Either way, there was a more pressing matter.
Let him stew a while," I said, "The wounded and the Tainted first. We're going up to Vigil's Keep."
"The Warden-Commander is here, with the King," Armen stated, almost through his teeth.
I was sorely tempted to ask how Andras had managed to get through the highly formidable guards, but she was a Grey Warden, so it was almost a foregone conclusion that she had used that. Legally or not, saying that you're a Grey Warden followed by a command to stand aside tended to work in those days.
"Don't care," I replied, "Tam first." Letting slip my real motivation. Ciara smiled warmly at that, making me feel embarrassed for even vocalising it, so I stepped out into the rain to cool myself off again.
It was a miserable ride up to the Vigil, not least because I had come to Thedas from a desert region. So I had to rely on a thick cloak to keep dry, which was far from ideal. I would have traded quite a bit for the privilege of a waterproof plastic parka. Worse, Armen and Ciara's mounts kept stopping, refusing to move for whole minutes at a time. Bellona didn't care one bit about the rain, freezing cold as it was, partially because she was wearing her barding which protected her.
We passed by the carts full of our war prizes, filled with weapons and armour separated out by the material. Obviously leather couldn't be repaired, but chainmail certainly could. We now had enough swords and armour to equip still more troops. Better yet, we had the ponies and carts to move it all. Louise had taken the Fereldan camp in the early night to loot it, finding it abandoned by the nobles but still haunted by the elven servants left behind.
Imagine their surprise when the chevaliers didn't cut them down or begin ravaging them. They would have been starting off back to Denerim by the time I was making my own, far shorter journey.
I informed the sergeant on duty at the picket line of my intentions so that the officer on duty would be aware. McNulty had the morning shift, I recall. We followed the Imperial Highway, bumping into some of Isewen's scouts on the way. They reported no Fereldans behind our blockade of the Hafter bridge, which I was grateful for. Last thing we needed was another serious battle.
Vigil's Keep's thoroughfares were empty, and not just because of the rain. The air around the place felt thick, not with the freezing humidity alone, but because of what had happened. The men and women I had cut down at the Hafter lived at the Vigil. The people left behind were their friends and family, more so the former than the latter but with enough of the latter for it to be significant for us.
If it hadn't been for the fact that we had offered peace and the King refused, as well as the good conduct of our Army for the duration, there would have been trouble. Andras had seen to it that it was known that peace was tried. In fact, she hadn't watched the battle, having rode straight back to the Vigil to inform the people that it was occurring.
We arrived at the main gate to the Keep itself, finding the entrance guarded by the small mixed firelance-mage combat unit of the Hospitallers. Barely thirty of them, twenty firelancers and ten mages. The rest were busy. That would have been enough to hold the gate against any mob, though.
They saluted as we passed, the Hospitaller banner was lowered in salute too. Their Knight-Master clearly wanting the townspeople to know who it was holding down the fort. Good, I thought, they'll be regarded as separate to the Army that way. Which was the whole point of having an order of 'knights' in the first place to protect and organise hospitals.
We entered the main hall.
The open spaces were filled with the medical tents, the cold and damp of the hillside determined to be unacceptable for treating the worst of our casualties. You could no longer see the throne or the firepit, though the glow of the fire poured through the canvass, making shadows of the injured and the healers a like. Mixed with the groans and murmurs, it was damned eerie.
I led the way through the narrow path to the firepit itself, winding through the tents and standing aside for the mages.
There we found Oghren, looking miserable and devoid of his silverite in favour of good linen, along with Dagna, looking as chirpy despite warming up her hands in her workwoman's outfit. They both looked up as we arrived. Oghren grunted, and returned his eyes to the roaring fire.
"Marquis," Dagna smiled, "Congratulations on your victory." Oghren grunted once more, following up with a swig from his aleskin. He hadn't put his money on us, obviously.
I frowned back down at her. "Thank you," I said, "Though the cost was high."
"Your healers are great," she chirped on, "I'm sure they'll save everyone. I've already witnessed three techniques for healing that I haven't seen before. And I have some ideas for improving them! I knew it was the right decision to come along."
I blew out an amused breath, glad that someone saw the silver lining. Though I was sure Leha would show up eventually and see the silverite lining.
"The Circles in Ferelden aren't generally known for their innovation," Armen replied, "The Orlesian nobles pull strings to make sure the best healers are available to them." Dagna made a high pitched noise of disapproval at that.
My mind moved by the prompt to the blood magic technique I had seen Tiberius used on Julie. I wondered what Dagna would have thought had she witnessed it. And if she'd get the chance to find out at Amaranthine. But that led to thoughts about the nuptials coming ever closer, and I banished the line of inquiry from me head.
"Are any of the Grey Wardens awake yet?" I asked, "Our ones, I mean."
"No, Marquis," came the voice of Markham from behind. I turned to find him splattered with blood and looking utterly exhausted.
"Almost all of our wounded are also unconscious," the healer continued, "Easy to treat them, this way."
I nodded, seeing no fault in his logic. Though I would have liked to speak with some of them, after my main business at the Keep had concluded. "Where is Tam?" I asked.
"The Wardens have been moved to the upper floors," Markham said, "We needed the space." To say the least.
"I'll take them," Oghren said to the Hospitaller, "Best you stay down here, in case you're needed."
Markham inclined his head in agreement. Oghren waved us forward. Ciara went ahead to follow him, loosening her silverite axe from the loop of leather she hung it from. She didn't trust the guy. I gave Armen a warning glance, but he could no more control her sympathies than I could control Julie's.
The stout dwarf thumped along through the tent city, not deeming it necessary to allow orderlies to pass, and brought us upstairs. To the Grey Warden quarters. Which, as you can imagine, had the space. With a good half or more of their number dead or in our custody.
The first door in a long corridor with a dozen such doors yielded to Oghren's boot with ease, and we filed in. Inside was relatively luxurious. A large feather bed and a bookcase full of printed and hand written works (easy to know the difference from their spines alone). A small fireplace created the only light in the room, as the window was closed and the curtains drawn to keep the heat in. Some leather-covered chairs that looked well worn.
It must have been a Constable's quarters. Probably that big bastard Howe's own, I thought.
Tam was in the bed. She was laying on her back, her head turned sideways on a large pillow and her hair tied back in a single ponytail between her horns. She was dressed in a light linenweave, her clothes folded neatly at the corner of the bed and her weapons sitting on a dressing table.
Ciara bolted over to her, full of curiosity. She peered down at the sleeping Qunari for half a minute, putting her hand on Tam's arm.
"Doesn't look any more dead," Ciara said back to me with cheer, "She's a little cold though."
"Probably because the fire's almost out," said Armen. The mage grabbed a piece of chopped wood into the fireplace and set it ablaze, both feats accomplished by magic. Oghren's eyebrows rose upwards, perhaps unused to seeing mages use their talents for such trivial tasks. Or maybe the last people he saw that did so were Amell and the Witch of the Wilds.
But I wasn't in a state of mind where I could just accept Armen's explanation. It was Tam, after all.
I dragged one of the leather seats over to the bedside, shooing Ciara out of the way, before planting my ass down onto it. I watched Tam for a few minutes in complete silence, wishing Julie could have teleported to us. It felt wrong for her to be absent.
Tam's eyes moved under her eyelids. I thought that strange. Was she dreaming? She was supposed to be out entirely. I leaned over and touched her forehead, wishing I could do more to comfort her.
Her eyes shot open at once, violet irises out of focus. She sat up like a shot.
I hadn't expected that, and I recoiled so hard that I managed to flip over in the chair and bump my head on the stone floor. Almost into the fireplace, I might add, the heat from it pouring onto me. Cursing, I climbed off the fallen chair with a little help from Ciara, the room filling with the sound of Tam's heavy breathing.
My lover was clutching her neck and chest, looking around the room like it wasn't real, blinking rapidly. She gazed at the figures in the room, finding me and staring for a moment. I guess her eyesight was a little blurred, because it took a while for her to get who she was looking at.
"Sam?" she asked.
"It's me," I said, sitting down beside her on the bed. I gave her a cup of water, which she drank deeply. Not going to make a fool of myself doing that, at least, or so I thought. I'm sure I remember seeing a dark look of amusement on Oghren's face at my unfortunate reaction.
Tam drew close and slowly hugged me, her breathing finally getting under control. Her heart was beating hard, easily hard enough for me to feet at her chest and neck. She was warm too, contrary to Ciara's assertion.
"You made it," I soothed, "It's okay. How do you feel?"
"I feel... invigorated," Tam replied, in confusion, "Like I could run for days."
That was in line with what I knew about Wardens, but it was something else to hear it from her. Didn't get a chance to comment, though. She pulled me into a kiss, which lifted the weight of the battle and all the bullshit clean off my shoulders.
Of course, the unspoken part between the two of us was the other thing we both knew about Wardens. The tradeoff was a short life and fertility issues. We stared at each other, knowing that life probably wouldn't be the same as before. Tam's life as a civilian was over.
The sound of Oghren scoffing interrupted us. "Glad you got your happy ending after all," he growled, "When you killed so many good people."
I eyed him, making it perfectly clear how much danger he was in. The glowing of the tip of Armen's spear-headed staff added nicely to the effect.
"Should have stayed out of it then?" I growled back, "Get outta here, before I lose my temper."
Oghren let out a single, sarcastic laugh, and exited the room without another word or look at us.
"You fought a battle?" Tam asked, rubbing her head, "How long was I out?"
"Only a day or two," Ciara replied, "Missed all the fun."
"By which Ciara means one of the hardest fights we've ever had," Armen added with bemusement.
"I take it you won," Tam smiled.
"We don't lose often," Armen said with flick of his hand, "I'm glad to see you alive. Come on, we'll tell you all about it."
Tam looked down at her clothes and grimaced. "After I get out of these... ridiculous things," she said, holding up her arms.
"Good idea," I said, "We're meeting the king after this."
Tam nodded and stood up, slipping into her usual dutiful demeanour. And out of her temporary clothing.
"I'm starving," she informed me. I handed her a big loaf of bread, trying to avoid ogling her in the process. I failed.
Once Tam was back in her highly-revealing bodywrap and had her curved dagger on her hip, we were almost ready to go. A Warden recruit had come along and informed us that several more of the Tainted had awoken, and that they were okay. Hungry too. Evidently an expanded appetite was the first thing anyone experienced when finally awaking from whatever process the Joining puts their bodies through.
We retrieved Fritz from the stables, where the stableboys had taken good care of him, allowing us all to ride back down to our camps. Not even Tam would ride through winter rain without a cloak, so she got wrapped up in no less than two of the things before we made the return journey.
The pickets informed us that the king was growing impatient and that the Highlanders had requested my presence in the tent he was being held in. Which was the polite way of saying that they were growing tired of the man's complaints and pacing, and they'd deal with him in the old Avvar highland way soon if he didn't stop.
"This king thinks much of himself," Tam intoned with disapproval, as we walked the horses through camp.
"What king doesn't?" Armen replied back, "Hard to be king if you don't believe in yourself."
"You didn't see the battle, Tam, he has a right to be a little arrogant," I said, throwing in my two cents, "But I thought he used to be a commoner. He should have some perspective. He's a prisoner now, acting uppity in that position usually gets prisoners beaten."
"He was a commoner ten years ago," Ciara responded, "Then a Grey Warden. Then a king."
"One gave him a sense of worth beyond the common," Tam thought aloud, "The other elevated him to a position of power. No surprise that he became a tyrant."
That more or less settled the discussion.
The tent we were using for the imprisonment of the most important Fereldans had been the King's own, taken from his own camp. Red and bright yellow cloth covered the more or less waterproof canvass underneath, the Fereldan mabaris on each panel. Someone had daubed a big black X on each one of the dog insignias with paint or mud, which was running in the heavy rainfall. It was as large as anything the Free Army had, as certainly larger than my own.
Around it stood some of our Avvars, Asala and Cormac in command at the entrance. The two saluted on my approach, which I returned casually. Asala's gaze flickered to Tam in surprise, before returning to
"I hear the big cheese wants to talk to me," I said. I'd be finding out how appropriate that moniker was in no time.
"Lowlanders," Cormac said, following up by spitting into the waterlogged grass at his feet. A little too close to my own boots in fact. At least he had the good sense to look sorry for it, which was hilarious for a man as large as he was. Particularly as I was a 'lowlander' myself.
"King Alistair did request your presence, Marquis," said Asala, "We managed to shut him up by bringing him food." Tam's stomach made a loud complaint of its own, responding to the news there was food inside. Loud enough to be heard over the patter of the rain.
"Insistent son of a bitch then," I muttered, "Okay, let's get out of the wet."
Asala opened the tent flap for me, letting me pass inside.
The tent wasn't particularly full. There were maybe a dozen bedrolls laid out, and one 'master' bed clearly for use of the King. Though he wasn't the one in it. There was a single large brazier in the middle of the room, and a table hanging from the ceiling line that held the food that had been brought. Simple fare, bread and cheese. The meat and fish we had brought or caught were reserved for our soldiers. Various types of camp stools were strewn about the place.
The inhabitants of the tent were froze on my entry, aside from a healer or two who made themselves as scarce as possible.
Various nobles to the right, minding their own business. The commanders of the Ash Warriors and the Kingsguard, I recalled. Big guys, one painted up like an Avvar except in red, the other in well-stitched orange silk. La-di-dah.
The only Grey Wardens present other than the Warden-Commander were three Constables. Two of whom I had met on the field of battle. All of them wearing the padded shirts and trousers they had worn under their armour, in well dyed grey colours. Because Grey Wardens are grey.
The one I didn't know was Sigrun, a heavily tattooed dwarf with a serious death wish. Former Legionnaire of the Dead. That was about the extent of how much I got to know her. She kept quiet around me. She had been wearing fully engraved silverite plate when she had surrendered, which she had done only because of the threat to her fellow Wardens. Made me want to test it against musketry. Didn't get the chance. She looked at me with polite interest.
The first of the Warden-Constables I had 'met' was laying in the King's bed, recovering from the wound I had given her. Couldn't really see much of her except the top of her head, but the black hair and bruised face was enough to tell me it was her. She was peering over the wooden footboard of the bed at me, fatigued but not hostile. Perhaps she was too tired for hostility.
Howe of course had no such issue, and looked at me as if he were an angel and I was Satan himself. That grossly overestimated his position, and it pissed me off more than a little, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. So I let him glare at me from the bedside, impotent and defeated as he was. I came to the realisation that it was probably him who was demanding an audience, not the King. If he tried anything, I would have very much enjoyed shooting him in the leg. Or groin.
The Warden-Commander was sat opposite where Howe was standing, probably talking to the King before we arrived. She was in her robes, her staff propped up against the headboard of the bed next to another one.
Alistair himself was tall. Maybe an inch taller than I was. It was hard to tell. Similar build to me too, this was a warrior. Blonde-ish hair that had begun to darken in places. His face looked older than what I knew his age to be. He was pretty much the same age as I was, chronologically. A little younger. He had been the only one permitted to keep his armour, but was wearing something I was familiar with; almost a carbon copy of the comfortable but useful clothing that Teagan had worn when he met us outside the gates of Redcliffe. With the one difference of the royal crest replacing those of Redcliffe and Rainesfere on the neck.
They all took notice. All the more so when two Qunari women and two elves came in behind me. The nobles actually gasped. Seeing as they were awaiting me, I flipped down the sopping hood of my cloak and took off my helmet, as is polite.
Warden-Commander Andras ignored the others, and got off her chair to greet me.
"Marquis, I'm glad you're finally here," she said in Common, "We were just discussing our agreement, the King and I."
"Were you?" I replied wistfully, removing my cloak fully, "That's nice."
Andras looked at me with fear, eyes wider and mouth shut hard enough to be noticed. Good, I thought, they all needed to know who was in charge. Although it wasn't entirely her fault, so I still felt a little guilty about using her as the means of transmitting the news.
"I trust that our agreement is still in effect," Andras said firmly.
"It is," I replied, "Those portions of our agreement that concern Amaranthine and its surrounding lands, and the Grey Wardens, I mean." As I spoke, the King had wandered away from the bed and over to the suspended table with the food on it. Ciara's newly acquired silverite axe finally leapt from its leather loop and into her hand. The right response as far as I was concerned.
"What about peace?" Andras said, taking my left hand with both of her, considerably smaller ones, "Whatever point you wanted to prove about the superiority of your forces has been made. We can spare Ferelden any further bloodshed."
I understood what she was doing. She was begging. Clothing it in the language of a friend. The use of 'we' being the clue there. Clearly, whatever clout she may have bought with the anti-war barons from the south didn't count much for the king. Yet, I couldn't help her. I had been thinking about my position on the ride in. There were certain proprieties that had to be maintained.
"Warden-Commander, I trust you implicitly, you saved my lover and my men from the Taint," I said, with maximum sincerity, "But the issue of peace or war is no longer in my hands." The King looked on with narrowed eyes, eating some cheese. Saying nothing. He didn't need to, and he knew it.
"What do you mean?!" snapped Howe, coming forward.
"I offered you a peace," I replied, remaining perfectly calm, "You rejected it."
"Yet it is still within your power to grant it," Howe said, getting in my face, "You never wanted peace. You're here to steal our country, like any other Orlesian." Now that was just plain ridiculous. I was beginning to get what Andras had said the day before, about Howe having issues which explained why he had marched off the human Wardens to join the King's forces.
"Do I sound Orlesian?" I said, deliberately upping my mixed American accent for effect.
"You act Orlesian," came the reply, along with an accusatory finger, "You want Amaranthine to hold it as a port. For yourself, for Celene, for Gaspard, for yourself, it does not matter. Your tales of a Tevinter fleet are lies, and your offer of peace was another lie."
And with that, he had crossed the line. The idea that I was working for the Empress or the Grand-Duke was simply beyond the pale.
"Asala," I said.
The former Qunari Viddasala knew what I wanted. She grabbed Howe by the arm, so fast he could not react, and flipped her over her shoulder, using his own weight to plant him firmly on the floor of the tent. She lay her own weight across his neck with her shin, kneeling on him. Howe began to turn red, spluttering for air. I felt no pity for the man. He was clearly unbalanced. The history of his family required him to play the zealous patriot, I would wager.
"Take him outside and chain him to a post," I ordered, "Maybe a cold shower will wake him up from whatever crazy he's been inhaling deeply."
Asala gave a single nod, before getting off the man and dragging him out of the tent by the legs. An undignified way for a man who had demonstrated a complete lack of grace throughout. I had exactly zero sympathy. My damned nuts still hurt from the kick he gave me, if only from the memory than from any injury. Definitely didn't get injured. Probably would have made life a whole lot more convenient if I had been injured there, but alas... let us get away from the subject of my testicular fortitude.
"Marquis, I must object," said Andras, "That man is my second."
"No, that's a prisoner of war," I replied, "We're not going to let him die, if that's what you're worried about. Like I said, just a little cold shower to bring his temper down." Maybe then he'd get the message that he was a prisoner in the first place.
The battered and bruised Warden mage in the bed sat up straighter. "He's a good man!" she said, "You shouldn't just mistreat him because he offended you!"
I had almost forgotten she was present. "He talks to me like I'm a peasant," I replied, "Whoever you are?"
"Bethany Hawke," she replied, "And how is that any different?"
"Well Constable Hawke, I can't let him speak like that because I am not a peasant," I replied, "I'm Commanding General of the Free Army. I don't really care about the personal insult. What I care about is that he disregards the honour due to the Army, to my people. He did so at his own peril. We will not tolerate being treated like the village idiots of Thedas, the ones who let ourselves be slapped and ask for another. If it takes him freezing his ass off in the winter rain for both you and he to understand that, so be it."
Human beings truly are animals. Establish dominance, and many will respect it.
"You are cruel," the Constable said.
"War makes men cruel," I said.
Warden-Constable Hawke held her tongue, though cast a venomous glare at me for good measure. It was futile to disagree further, probably because both Alistair and Andras understood my reasoning well enough. They hadn't spoken up, nor did their faces betray any anger or outrage. My logic in this wouldn't have flown on Earth, but we aren't on Earth.
"We should execute him," Tam said in Orlesian, "He is clearly without reason. He will attempt to escape and kill you."
Tempting, but a little too harsh. Which is why she said it in Orlesian. No chance that anyone other than Andras spoke it to more than a passing degree. The idea itself would have been a breach of my oaths, or at least a breach large enough to give me pause. The more time wore on, the less important I found that adhering to them strictly was.
"Let him try," I snorted back in Common, "I'll stitch him up good." I gave my firelance a pat to add emphasis, with an amused snort from Ciara to boot.
Alistair finally deemed it wise to intervene, his observations over. He came alongside Andras, putting a hand on her shoulder lightly to get her to retreat, and squared off directly across from us. He finished the small bit of cheese he had left, and examined us.
"If you wanted to convince me that you aren't the same as the chevaliers," he said, "You're doing it wrong." I detected no malice in his tone, nor any defiance at all. He said it almost half-jokingly, simply stating the fact. It was disarming in the extreme. Not a very kingly behaviour, but I don't care about that at all.
"How's that?" I asked.
"Chaining a man to a post in the rain... like a dog," he tutted, "So very Orlesian. So is invading Ferelden under false pretences, I might add. Can't blame some of us for being angry."
I didn't blame them for being angry. I blamed them for losing all intellect because of their anger.
"What false pretences?" Ciara said, "We were exiled here. By Gaspard. He is no friend to us."
Alistair paused, looking at Ciara. "Who are you?" he asked. Not in a way that suggested he did not think her his equal. That would have been expected, in fact. No, he was genuinely interested to know who she was and why she was there. Given that she was the only elf around in Dalish garb with a Dalish accent, that might have been why.
Armen answered for her. "Former vice-chancellor of Free Orlais," he said flatly, "She helped rule over more people than you do, your majesty."
The Eastern Dales was home to about one and a half million. Two and a half if you counted the Crownlands, but the only parts of that we ever controlled were Halamshiral and Gethran's Crossing. Ferelden is home to only a million or so.
Alistair looked genuinely baffled at the concept of our youngest companion holding political office. To be honest, it baffled me too. "She doesn't look like she has seen her twentieth birthday yet," he said flatly.
"I haven't," Ciara shrugged, gesticulating with her axe, "A Vice-chancellor is for PR, mostly. Lots of shaking hands. Not surprised you haven't heard of me."
The King was unperturbed by the axe movements. "PR?" Alistair asked.
"Public relations," Tam replied.
"Ahhh, I see," he said, "The letters..." Three cheers for the alphabet. Regardless of script, it was the same on both worlds. Ever a curiosity, that.
This tangent was getting on my nerves. "Her point stands," I cut in, "We did not come to Ferelden under false pretences. In fact, we would not have had to wage battle at all if it hadn't been for Teagan Guerrin."
"Bit rich for you to blame Teagan for all of this," Alistair replied, "He told us what you asked for. I wouldn't have given in to such demands either."
"Would you have refused to negotiate entirely?" I asked, "Or did Teagan leave out the part where he insulted us without even hearing what we wanted? Or is he so stupid that he doesn't understand the concept of a strong opening position?"
The man was ambassador to Orlais. He should have known better. Hence our displeasure.
"Perhaps that was unwise, but it was necessary," Alistair conceded, "He was testing you. We know your reputation, Marquis. He had to see if you would act as any Orlesian marshal would have. And you did. You didn't hesitate to attack when you didn't get your own way. You proved that we are right to distrust anything that comes out of an Orlesian noble's mouth."
That was crass hypocrisy to my ear, throat-twisting levels of it. Yet I could see the argument too. Doubly frustrating.
"Yet you want peace now?" I said back, cool as you please, "Now that you have nothing to trade in return for it? Anything we want we can take now. Your army is shattered and I could burn Denerim to the ground if I liked. Not that it would accomplish anything but creating more hatred, but I could."
"I'm trying to save the lives of my people," Alistair replied.
"I'm not threatening them," I replied, "We twice offered terms. Both times, you told us to go to hell."
"You don't understand," he continued, "I rule Ferelden jointly with Anora. As long as she is free, the realm will resist. Particularly with Fergus Cousland and Teagan Guerrin alive too. If I accept the terms of your previous offer, it can still be salvaged. Anything else looks like surrender. We can both get what we want here."
I stopped dead, rubbing the bridge of my nose to calm myself. This was going nowhere. I needed to get to the point.
"If you want peace, I can't give it to you," I said, "I was authorised to give you the offer, and to fight you if it was refused. It was refused."
There was no explicit instructions that I couldn't make the offer a second time... but I could almost imagine Julie's scowl if I had done so without extracting further concessions. Concessions that might make the difference between life and death further down the line. We had won a battle. Things were different. We had the advantage.
"Authorised by who?" Alistair asked, "You're the leader of this army, are you not?"
"Julie," said Tam.
"The Marquise de la Fayette," I added, "She is... our sovereign, I guess." The best description available for her huge unofficial power.
The King's eyes flickered between Tam and I. So he had heard that story too. I crossed my arms, trying to figure out what words to use to get him to stop. He answered before I had formulated them. "Your wife?" Alistair asked, before pausing a moment, "She is not here?"
And I thanked God she hadn't been, or else she would have been in the earthworks with me in the fiercest part of the battle.
"No," I said, "She is with the rest of the army. I'm sure you were made aware that we had split it, or else you wouldn't have attacked."
The King nodded to himself, like something had been confirmed. "We got word a few hours before. That was the only reason I allowed the attack in the first place," Alistair said, "Otherwise I would have held the bridge and the fords against you instead. So we have to wait until your wife arrives?"
"In our system of government, the military answers to the civilian authorities," Armen explained, "In fact, making separate political agreements is treason. Though I doubt our dear leader would cut off poor Sam's head for doing so in this case."
"She has other ways of punishing me," I sighed, "The Army answers to her as representative of the people's will.."
Alistair raised an eyebrow. "We could use some of that around here," he admitted, "Anora and I are always having to fight off complaints from the Bannorn nobles about us creating the freeholder militias. They don't like the Crown having an army large enough to beat them. Problem is that we need a large army to beat you Orlesians or anything else."
This move into more familiar territory was more than welcome. The King seemed to accept, at last, that he would be waiting a little longer. Besides, I wanted to talk about the battle.
"Yeah, about that," I said, "Mind if we speak about it a little?"
Alistair gestured for us to come in from the entrance area, like it was still his tent. Not seeing any reason to shatter that fantasy, I moved in, grabbing a free stool and putting it down in the very middle of the space. The others followed suit, and soon we had a little circle going that encompassed the end of the main bed. Alistair's other commanders joined it, but the King himself just leaned on the bottom of the bed, the Grey Warden on it shifting carefully to listen.
"I should have guessed you would be interested in talking about our... way of war," Alistair said, "I think Anora would scold me for indulging you, but you saw the whole bag of tricks. No harm now."
"How very kind," Armen said flatly.
"I can hardly ask for peace and be uncooperative," Alistair replied, the implied accusation of self-interest sliding off him, "Take this as my way of showing that I intend to deal fairly. That is very important in diplomacy."
Sounded like something he was quoting. Probably the Queen's own lessons. Armen needed the lesson himself, frankly. Of course, 'fair' is a foreign concept in diplomacy. I could see the argument brewing on my friend's face, so I stopped it before it erupted.
"We can't ask for anything more," I said quickly, "I have only one question. Was it you who came up with... all of that? The smoke? The mages?"
Alistair shrugged. "I can't take all the credit," he said, "Without Amell, we wouldn't have had the mages to pull it off. He's not been here for a couple of years now. Hope he's doing well. Not likely considering who he's with. Of course, only reason we had so many troops ready so quickly was the freeholder companies, and they were my idea. If it was back in Loghain's day, you'd only have faced about ten thousand with no mage support. And we'd all be dead."
The we meaning Fereldans in this case.
"Well, you surprised me," I said, "And that's not an easy thing to do."
"Word of your blackpowder weapons has spread fast," Alistair continued, "Eamon thought it would only be a matter of time before they ended up being used in an invasion by Orlais. Didn't think you would win your little rebellion, or at least that you'd be able to keep your weapons' secret."
"So you came up with a way to fight us," I nodded, "That fog was a masterstroke, who's idea was it?"
Alistair smiled to himself. "Neria Surana," he said, "Our court mage, and leader of the Aequitarian fraternity in Ferelden. She came up with the fog originally to allow us to attack Orlesian-held keeps or fortified camps. During the Occupation, the last one, that was something the rebels under my father had real trouble with. Or so I'm told. It made sense to use it against you. Can't shoot what you can't see."
"But the Free Army has more than just fancy new toys," said Armen.
"Discipline," said Tam proudly, "The key to perfection in any endeavour."
The ability to speak with commanders at distance instantly also helped, I knew, but there was no indication that anyone knew about that outside of our officer cadres.
"So we learned," Alistair said, "Your troops didn't flee under magical bombardment, but Surana had expected that. You have your own mages. The fog didn't put you off either. Your artillery had capabilities we didn't know about."
"Exploding and canister shot," I nodded, "Teagan didn't see them at Redcliffe."
"And our reports about your battles in Orlais didn't mention any specifics," Alistair said, "The wildest rumours are flying around about you, you know? I see now that most of them are true." He turned his eyes beside me to Tam again, sat close as she was. With sadness, no less. Strange.
I stood up, having the answer to my question.
"My condolences on your combat losses," I said, "Having spoken to you, I deeply regret that we are enemies. I believe you to be an honest man." Not that it would help him. Seemed like the thing to say though.
Alistair rose too. "Thank you," he said, "I will... reserve judgement on you, if you don't mind." He had a great amount of self-control, contrary to his reputation from the Blight. Hard-earned, I suspect.
I smirked at his response, seeing through it. He didn't think much of me. He was just being polite about it, the circumstances dictated as much. That much we gathered from the continuing hostility of Ferelden later on, not all of which we can lay at the feet of their Queen. Fair enough. I was an invader, after all.
The next day, the rain had stopped and the clouds parted, the low winter sun filling our camp with eye-blinding light. The temperature didn't rise much though, and given the number of corpses on the fields nearby, that was a good thing. We had burned our own dead that night, after identifying who we could. I overheard some soldiers saying that the sunlight was the Maker's way of bringing their souls to the next life, and hoped they were right.
By midday, Tam and I were speaking with Andras just outside my tent, or rather Tam was speaking and I was hanging around nearby. Grey Warden secrets and protocols were the order of the day. As she knew most of that already, Andras had asked Tam if she was to be Warden-Commander. I said she was if she wanted to be. There was no question of it being my decision though. We weren't going to let the Wardens build a whole other army in whatever land we eventually settled in. It would fall under my purview.
Tam didn't decide right there and then, but as she knew most of the interesting stuff already, she agreed to hear the more boring secrets to pass on if necessary. So the Warden-Commander and she were talking about procedures for the distribution of archdemon blood between the various factions of the Wardens, which are actually quite complicated, when the noise began.
A low rumbling shout that built up to a great cheer, like a wave rushing to shore. The Warden-Commander broke off her conversation and looked around, wondering just what the hell was going on. But Tam and I had a good clue. And the anticipation made me feel drunk.
The crowd of soldiers appeared first around the double line of tents blocking our view of the camp entrance, weapons raised over their heads, eyes turned over their shoulders to watch what was happening behind them. Next, a half dozen Lancers and Guards on horseback. The escort. Leha was with them, in her Carta gear looking about her with searching eyes. Assessing potential damage rather than looking for me.
Finally, Julie came around, my sunglasses balanced on her nose, her red-brown hair flowing out from under her khaki beret, dressed in brown furs over a British Army uniform. Revas carried her at a slow trot as the crowd parted, a standard bearer directly behind carrying the Stars and Stripes.
She spotted us after a few seconds.
Revas bolted forwards through the muddy grass, ahead of the crowd and to us, dodging braziers and equipment with ease. The horse slid to a halt in front of us, neighing loudly at the exertion, before her rider dismounted swiftly. Julie padded the last few steps to us out, her eyes watering. I don't know what burned in my chest in that moment. I just felt... complete. We were back together. That was what mattered.
All three of us embraced, Julie covering our faces with kisses while squeezing us as tightly to her as she could. The cheering continued as a good portion of the Army came to crowd around us. Those on horseback moving to avoid being blocked.
"Thank the Maker," she said, releasing us only as far as arms-length, "I thought I had lost you. I could barely sleep, I rode ahead to get here as soon as possible." My fault for not sending word fast enough. I was too distracted the day before, and only sent word of what had happened when most of the day had been wasted. Julie got all the major details, better late than never. I guess the message only arrived just as the other column was setting up camp the night before.
"The Maker did not have anything to do with it," Tam said, "We live due to the efforts of mortals, whom we can thank without the need to pray."
Julie glanced at Andras, with a strange amount of nervousness, betrayed by how rapid it was. "Is this one of them?" she asked, "She's a Warden."
I waved Andras forward, and she complied. "This is Sidona Andras," I said, "Acting Warden-Commander of Ferelden and governor of the Amaranthine arling."
The elf proceeded to curtsy, lifting the hem of her robes with one hand and planting her staff in the ground with the other. The action was augmented as the Warden-Commander pulled her hood down afterwards. Revealing her ears.
Julie stared, fascinated and flattered if the small smile that broke out on her face was any evidence. This was the first Warden she had met. A hero straight out of a legend. A mage and an elf with real authority to boot.
"Julie Hunt, Marquise de la Fayette," she said, "I owe you … more than my life."
"The Marquis and I made an agreement that more than adequately compensated us, my lady," Andras replied in Orlesian, "As long as the agreement is kept." I winced. The opening barrage had been let loose. I prepared for the counterstrike I thought to be coming in return.
"It shall be," Julie promised, taking Andras by the hand, "I cannot blame you for the actions of your liege-lord." It was my turn to stare. This was extremely generous.
"There will be peace then?" Andras asked, as incredulous as I was.
"There will," said Julie, "Assuming the Landsmeet and the Queen will accept it."
"I have no doubt they will," Andras said, "The fury you unleashed on our armies will have cowed them. The nobles that swayed the King and Queen to allow the attack will now be without allies."
Julie's eyes tracked to me, curved with amusement. "Our army does fury very well," she admitted in jest, "Sam taught them it. But enough of that. As far as I'm concerned, the war is over. We shall be friends, yes?"
"I hope so, Marquise," Andras said, buoyed up.
I shook my head, simply not believing my ears. What was Julie playing at, giving away our advantage like that? But I couldn't inquire, as our troops had reached us and could overhear. And other friends began congregating.
"So, you're still alive?" said Leha, from on top of her own small courser, "Told her you would be. Trying to kill you is like trying to kill a bee, you're hard to catch and your sting hurts. And there's not a swatter in the world large enough." The novelty and threat of bees exaggerated for a woman that had spent her childhood underground.
"Glad to see you too, Leha," I replied, with a rude gesture added in for flavour, "Good news all around, we captured the enemy camp, paychests and all. Some of them at least."
Our dwarven companion-slash-quartermaster gave the dirtiest look of happiness I ever saw on someone not thinking about sex, putting her hands on her hips as if to say "Oh really?" A sliverite lining indeed. That she got to play with large piles of gold and silver is the main reason she likes me. Drink and rentboys are cheap, but it's the breeding of coins she was truly in love with. I was happy to oblige her lusts in all three regards.
"We captured a king too!" called Ciara, emerging from the crowd with Armen. She did a running jump into a hug with Julie, before being set down on her legs again. Armen got a quick embrace too, which he politely returned with a roll of the eyes at me. I gave him a rude gesture that he could shove it up his ass in return.
"You kept him out of harm's way?" Julie asked Ciara. Referring to me.
"Of course," Ciara replied, "It was harder work than I thought it would be."
"I seem to remember you saying that Sam saved your life," Armen sniffed, scratching his chin.
"I seem to remember telling you that I did the same for him," said Ciara, punching him on the arm.
The exchange had us all grinning. Well, except Andras. She was left feeling a bit like the third wheel. Or perhaps she was just bewildered that we would speak in such a way in public. Too used to dealing with nobles and their aristocratic manners.
"All did their part," Tam nodded, "Some more unexpectedly than others."
"Others who saved your lives?" Julie asked.
I coughed, somewhat sheepish about who exactly that was referring to. Given what had happened. "Yeah, Mariette de Villars," I said, "Without her, Ciara and I would have been chopped up like firewood."
The side of Julie's lips curled upwards in not quite a smile, but definitely one that told a story of what her positive thoughts of that development. Reminded me of a cat. "Why am I not surprised?" she purred, "She's ambitious. So am I."
"I've already made her a Major," I said quickly, as if that should have been enough.
"So impersonal," Julie pouted, "We can do better than that."
"I'm sure we can," I frowned, "But we have more important things to do. Like dealing with the King."
"Certainly," Julie sighed, "Assemble the high command as soon as possible, and invite him to war council." she paused and looked at Andras. "You too, Warden-Commander, unless you'd rather not?"
Andras bowed in reply. "Oh no, Marquise," she said, "I think my attendance would be beneficial." I thought so too, if only so that the generosity she had been shown could be explained in full.
"Good," said Julie, before raising her voice so the whole crowd could hear clearly, "The rest of the Army should be here by sunset. I intend that we continue our march to Amaranthine tomorrow!"
A great roar of approval went up, firelances shaken up and down overhead, a few celebratory shots fired into the air too. That set off the sergeants in their midst, clearing the avenues of the camp as quickly as they had filled up. A reasonable conclusion, I thought.
Julie hooked Tam and I by the arm and we went into our tent, to relax. A groan from Leha and a giggle from Ciara indicating to all what they knew we would be getting up to. Or what they thought they knew. They too dispersed, the Warden-Commander heading off towards the King's tent. The best possible person to deliver the news, I think.
Our glorious leader wasn't in that sort of mood, innuendo about the younger de Villars aside.
She collapsed into the furs after taking off her boots, patting for us to join her. That sounded like something we all needed. I took off my firelance and put it down beside the damaged one, and joined Tam in laying down beside.
"Things are looking good," Julie whispered, "Long may it continue."
"Why are we whispering?" I asked.
"The tent's walls aren't solid?" Tam suggested.
"No, I'm just … tired," she said, shutting her eyes. She curled up between us, facing towards me, leaning back on Tam. Tam also closed her eyes.
But there was something I wanted to ask. Had to ask.
"Were you serious with the Warden-Commander?" I whispered, "Will we make peace?"
Julie didn't answer. She was already fast asleep. I let out a single exasperated breath. She really hadn't slept well, if she could turn off the lights that fast. If she had been just trying to avoid my question, she could not have kept a straight face.
I decided a snooze was right up my alley.
The rest of the army finally showed up on schedule, and set camp below the walls of the Vigil, the tents and temporary fortifications now sprawling from the all the way to our positions on the hills overlooking the Hafter. That left plenty of time, which we spent in the way I stated earlier, in taking tally of the captured equipment and personnel, and in visiting our people up in the Keep itself. Both the wounded and the new Grey Wardens.
The latter two things put Julie in a very good mood.
The provisions and equipment we captured were very numerous indeed. Julie and Leha were practically hopping with joy at the sight of the wagonloads. Julie at the armour and weapons. Leha at the coinchests and food. They estimated that they could make another two thousand firelances if they melted down all of the silverite, and while the money we captured was less than we had ourselves, it was a welcome boost. I certainly liked the sound of two thousand more firelances.
At the Keep, Grand-Cleric Brandon and the other Chantry women helped the overstretched Hospitallers deal with the aftermath of battle. Julie made sure to speak briefly with every conscious person, inquiring about the battle if it wasn't too much trouble or asking the former Tainted how they felt. Joking with them more often than not. Reassuring those that had lost limbs that they would not be made destitute, though they were thankfully few in number thanks to Markham's efforts. Markham himself got a hug, which actually managed to fluster him. He didn't get out much, to put it mildly.
There was cheer over our victory and sadness over our losses.
However, once the army arrived, so had all of the command staff. Namely, the one missing general was back. Mike was properly annoyed at having missed the big battle, not even having to see off raiders throughout the rear column's entire journey.
We assembled in the command tent beside my own, the table again covered with the map of Ferelden.
Julie, Tam, Leha, Armen, Ciara, Mike, Soprano, McNulty, Blondie, Isewen, Velarana, Barris and Mariette.
Heroes of our fair republic. There's a painting of this meeting based on a sketch that Julie did, idealised to the point of erasing the sheer look of relief on all our faces, hanging in the National Gallery. I invite all of you to go see it, if the Gallery still exists. It makes us all look drunk. In a way, we were.
The atmosphere at this meeting was truly jovial. That our comradeship had grown that much was a testament to the reward that our great ambition had given us. The officers spoke among themselves, as some things were prepared for the meeting. Julie was reading through the document I had signed with Andras, for one. I raised my hand for quiet, and was given it.
"So here we are," I said, "The danger to us in Ferelden is pretty much at an end. We'll reach Amaranthine long before the Queen or the nobles can raise another army to stop us, and we can hold the city long enough for Tiberius to bring the fleet to get us out."
"The only danger now is if the magister doesn't hold up his end of the bargain," Tam rumbled, "Or if the Qun intercepts them." She regarded one of the two eventualities as likely.
"Then we'll hold Amaranthine," Mike said, loud as ever, "And make our own arrangements."
"Exactly," said Julie, "Our fortune has turned. Thanks to all of your efforts, and those of our soldiers. I wish I could say I had something to do with it, but I don't. Of course, there remains the question of what we do next, but it can wait until we are in Amaranthine."
"Too afraid to tempt fate?" Armen asked.
"Very much so," Julie replied, "We still have matters to resolve here, too. Velarana, De Villars and Isewen, step forward."
There was silence as those who were called obeyed right away, the others stepping back to allow their passage and edging along the table to watch. I already had an idea of Julie's intents here. Mariette drew up alongside me, following her cousin, sparing me a glance. She wasn't wearing a mask for once, and her cousin caught the look. There would probably be hell to pay for that later, I thought.
Julie addressed Velarana first, dropping into formal Orlesian with ease.
"General, you sealed our victory by capturing a king alive. If you hadn't, this war might very well have stretched on without end."
Velarana inclined her head, saying exactly zip, her face remaining impassive in an almost ostentatious display of modesty. I wondered what her game was there, not the first time I did wonder such a thing. We'd be finding out pretty soon.
"Baroness de Villars and Colonel Isewen," Julie continued, "Your swift intervention was also essential. I have heard from many of the wounded that the enemy only broke once they caught sight of you charging across the plain. You scattered our foes and captured the enemy camp."
"I am a chevalier, Your Excellency," Louise replied, using Julie's old title of address, "Scattering our foes is what we were bred to do."
"We're getting the hang of it too," Isewen added. That got laughter out of me and a couple of the others. Isewen and her Lancers were as far from noble-blooded warriors as it was possible for Orlesians to be, yet they kept up with the Guards with ease.
"I think it's clear that you three have become the heroes of the battle among the troops," Julie continued, "So when we reach Amaranthine, and we have it secured, we shall organise a triumphal march. In your honour."
The three chosen did not react. I wasn't sure if they were stunned or they thought it a bad idea, at first.
"This army, this movement, needs heroes," Julie continued, "By your actions, you've made yourselves into heroes. You deserve to be seen by the people as heroes, and I intend to make sure that they do see."
"It is a great honour, Your Excellency," said Louise.
"Though I don't think we're heroes," Isewen pitched in, "We followed orders." Selling herself way too short, to my mind.
"You did so fearlessly," I said, "Sometimes that's all it takes."
All three seemed to accept it, though Velarana still hadn't said anything. She seemed more lost in thought than paying strict attention. Multitasking. Calculating. What exactly, I had a feeling about.
Julie said a few words into Mariette's ear before we continued. I began to worry about what exactly, as the council returned to its previous arrangement of positions. But the moment passed quickly, and Mariette didn't give away the game. I reminded myself to talk to her about it, though I wouldn't get the chance for some time.
"Before we bring in the King," said Julie, "I have decided on one other measure. We will have a month and a half to wait at least for the Tevinter ships once we reach Amaranthine. I have determined that it would be the perfect time to hold an election."
Talk about a bolt out of the blue. I had just assumed she would continue until we had reached our final destination. So, apparently, had everyone else. It didn't seem in her nature to lay down power, I knew that better than anyone. She had come to the decision alone, separated from us. It must have given her some clarity over what she truly wanted, I realised. She was letting the people decide if they wanted to keep her.
The possibilities were... menacing. And I couldn't help but see Armen and Velarana lock eyes, once their surprise had subsided. Which it did faster than anyone else barring myself.
"It may be the only safe time to do so," Julie explained, "And there are many questions that need to be answered before we reach our new home. What sort of realm shall we build? I cannot simply dictate my desires, though I'm sure you all know I have strong opinions."
"No kidding," I said flatly, the amusement of all.
"So we'll have an election a month after we arrive," Julie concluded.
"Won't that be difficult?" Soprano asked, "I don't doubt that we can secure the city, but the inhabitants may see disrupting any election as a chance to seize a symbolic victory."
Julie pondered that, biting her lip for a few seconds, before turning to me. "Sam?"
"I can't guarantee perfect security in a city I've never seen before," I replied, grabbing ideas off the top of my head, "But we do have options. Everything from cordoning off an election area to expelling the entire Fereldan populace for a day."
"Let's try and avoid that last option," McNulty snorted, "Else we'll be chasing people out of every alley with bayonets for a whole week beforehand."
"That would be the last resort," I replied gravely, "In the event of armed revolt, in other words."
"I certainly hope so," said Barris, "Fereldans are proud, but they're not stupid." Debatable, I thought.
"We can do without the armed revolt," Ciara said, "Let's try and get on with them instead."
"Agreed," Julie smiled, "Now, just one more thing. Sam, can you go fetch the King and the Warden-Commander please?"
I gave a thumbs up, and went around the edge of the table to the tent entrance.
I exited out into the red of the evening sun, our luck with the weather having held out. The bustle of the camp sounding as I cleared the flaps, which always made me feel comfortable. The Royal Entourage was waiting, Alistair and Andras in front, flanked by the Kingsguard commander and Bethany Hawke respectively. Andras was very wise to leave Howe behind.
I saw that everything was in order with them, with the exception of the four Avvar Highlanders alongside them. The four Highlanders who were supposed to be standing directly in front of the tent entrance to prevent anyone from coming in without leave. In fact, everyone seemed to be looking at me with either curiosity or fear.
"Soldiers, why are you not at your posts?" I asked the soldiers coolly.
"The eagles," Alistair replied for them, pointing slightly above me, "Not sure I'd stand there myself, actually."
I craned my head over my shoulder, and found our eagles perched directly on top of the crossbeam that held up the tent canvass making up the outer entrance. The brown headed one was cleaning its feathers, the silver headed one looking at me. They gave out soft squawks to each other, or possibly to me. And there was no way in hell I was going to try and shoo them away. Their claws were huge, far more so than what I believed normal.
"Ah, I see," I said, "You're reunited too now. We're really going to have to find someone who knows what your story is."
"Are you talking to the eagles?" Alistair asked flatly.
"It's a lot less mad than it seems," I replied, "The things follow me around. Have to be polite. They have claws."
"That does sound wise, I guess," said Alistair, "Once knew a witch who could turn into a raven. Liked to peck at me when we were travelling. Revenge for my witty repartee. Can only imagine what she would have done if she had those claws."
"Morrigan," I smiled, "Amell's lover. And saviour. I've heard of her … quirks." One of Tam's favourite topics when we were all drinking, in fact, was discussing the heroes of the Fifth Blight. Just because they were so unlikely, that it made for good stories.
Alistair's mouth tightened. "You know more than most," he said.
"His mistress knew Sten, Your Majesty," Andras said, "She knows many Warden secrets."
Alistair's tongue moved in his mouth, as if he was considering saying something about that.
"You're wanted inside," I said, "Shall we?"
"Lead on," Alistair conceded, with an uneasy look at the birds.
I held the tent flap open for them to pass, hoping that the eagles would not do anything as long as I was there. In the event, they spread their wings out wide just as Alistair approached, almost in salute. Stranger and stranger. The entire royal party eased past carefully, and I followed in after them.
The war council was far more stiff than when I had left, standing straighter and with narrower eyes. The Fereldans were interlopers, except for Barris of course, and they were being made to feel it. There was also a barely perceptible glow around all of them. One of the mages had cast a barrier spell. Just to be careful.
The one exception was Julie, whom had kept her lighthearted yet formal posture and speech.
"Your Majesty," she said in Common, accented as ever, "I'm glad you could join us."
"The eagles almost stopped me," Alistair replied, "But I'm here. Your prisoner."
"Not for long," Julie reassured, "Warden-Commander Andras, have you informed the King of my words to you earlier?"
"I have told him of the agreement and your words, yes," Andras confirmed, "That you shall make peace on the terms I agreed with your lord husband."
Julie picked up a document from the table, our copy of the agreement in the Latin script, the seal of the Grey Wardens on it along with my signature. She scanned it for a moment, taking in the details. My apprehensions about her generosity ballooned again.
Julie summarised the terms. "The Warden-Commander shall grant free access to Amaranthine for the Free Army and its wards, those of its soldiers whom have joined the Order shall be allowed to leave with it, and in return, the Order shall receive certain advantages and hostilities shall cease."
She put down the document again. "This seems more than fair," she said, "A pity you did not take such a generous offer before we had to smash your army, but no matter. A deal is a deal." Leha giving a single large and approving nod at the last line. She and Julie were, at heart, entrepreneurs. I approved of the not-so-veiled chiding of the Fereldans for their failure to see its benefits before.
"I'm glad you agree," Alistair said, "There has been enough bloodshed. I'm sure I can convince the Queen of its merits." In light of our shattering defeat, would have been a nice addition to that sentence. Not likely to get that sort of honesty though.
"Good, which leaves only one problem to overcome," Julie said, her smile turning wicked, "The ransoms."
And so her plan was revealed. A ultimatum for which the Fereldans were entirely unprepared. Andras turned as white as a sheet. I could imagine her fears. Never mind being an Arlessa, she might have to flee Ferelden for her life. I felt great sympathy for her, and wished to give her asylum should it come to that. If she'd accept it.
"Ransoms?" Alistair asked, "I don't understand. You just agreed to peace."
"Yes, our agreement was for peace," Julie said, picking up the document once more, "Among other things. But it says nothing here about the unconditional release of prisoners. Baroness de Villars, it is common practice to ransom noble captives, is it not?"
Blondie's skull mask swivelled towards the King. "It is," she said, "In fact, many captured Fereldan and Orlesian nobles were ransomed at the end of our … tenure in this realm. There is strong precedent."
Alistair's face soured. He clearly hadn't anticipated this possibility. If he had been noble born, he almost certainly would have.
"So you see, Your Majesty," Julie continued, "We captured you. And like Le Coeur du Lion, your realm can buy you back. It must. You do not have any heirs, do you? Can the Queen rule alone, without the blood of Calenhad in her veins or by her side? Or in her belly?"
I think half the command staff recoiled from that barbed remark. The infertility of Queen Anora being assumed to be a touchy subject. Julie's opinion of hereditary rule being what it is, I wish I could have warned her off going there. But it was perhaps an assumption too far. The King didn't seem any more angry for it.
"You are enjoying this," Alistair said, "A little too much."
"I am simply claiming what is ours by right," Julie said, "As you would have if you had captured Sam."
"In any case, the Landsmeet will never pay a ransom," the King continued, crossing his large arms, "The Crown's budget is stretched, and the nobles won't pony up." Probably didn't help that we had the paychests.
Julie spread her hands on the table, unperturbed. "I know," she said, "Especially those who now see the path to the throne opening up for them. De Villars, how many houses of Ferelden share the blood of Calenhad?"
It was not Louise but Mariette who responded first. "The Couslands have a strong connection," she said, "But the royal bloodlines are shared by many. The Guerrins too have a good claim, as does the Bryland family."
"See how this obsession with bloodlines will tear your country apart?" Julie asked, "As it already has with Orlais, so many times?" Gaspard, after all, had a more direct claim to the Orlesian throne than Celene did, which was the core of their conflict.
"I always thought it strange, myself," Alistair sniffed, "It was Amell who convinced me the country needed an heir of Calenhad. That only I could have pushed the reforms needed to save the realm. He was right."
"So you agree," Julie said, "Your loss would send this country into a state of anarchy and civil war. Neither of us want that, so you must pay."
"How?" Alistair replied.
"Well, there is a noble here who can pay," Julie said, "The Warden-Commander."
Andras seemed to snap out of whatever daylight nightmare she was living in as a result of Julie's machinations, but didn't respond. Luckily, she had a Constable on hand.
"The Grey Wardens are not wealthy enough to pay a king's ransom," said Bethany Hawke, "I am the treasurer of Vigil's Keep, I can tell you that for a fact."
"I expected as much," said Julie, "But I know you have one of the most productive fiefs in the entire kingdom. Grain from the Bannorn, silverite from the Wending Wood, iron from the Storm Coast, trade via the sea... Warden-Commander, you can save Ferelden from chaos, right here and now."
Andras' colour began returning to her face, her mind working to process what had just been suggested. Sidona Andras, Saviour of the Realm. Finally stepping out of Amell's shadow.
Julie was getting better at pushing the right buttons. The provocation from before was mere foreplay, designed to put the fear of the Maker up the King and Wardens. Now, she offered the path to salvation. She had learned from her mistakes in Orlais, I hoped.
"So I, the Arlessa of Amaranthine, shall pay the king's ransom herself?" Andras stated slowly, "I think that's a fine idea."
"Aww, I won't be chopped to little bits because the Landsmeet is broke?" Alistair quipped, "And the only price I have to pay is to make someone an Arlessa who should have been anyway? Very convenient."
"I'm sure the Landsmeet will be greatly embarrassed," Louise said, "To have been saved such humiliation and discord by an Orlesian elf mage." Ever on the pulse of the nobility, Louise de Villars.
"Not the first humiliation of that sort they've suffered," Alistair replied, "They'll get over it or arses will sting." That didn't sound like a threat he intended the Queen to carry out. Very good.
"Leha," Julie said, ignoring him. Our friend produced another piece of paper, and Julie slid it over the table to Warden-Constable Hawke. "These are the materials we require. In foodstuffs we will take only surplus intended for sale overseas. For everything else, we need all of what is available."
Hawke and Andras looked over the list, conferring with each other quietly.
"Gaspard and Celene are going to be livid," the Warden-Commander chuckled, "Most of our grain goes to the Empress' granaries. Most of our metal goes to the Grand-Duke's smiths. They've been preparing for war for some years now, and they'll need every scrap for their little war."
"With the greatest respect," I started, "Fuck Gaspard and Celene, and their needs. All the better to starve them of the means to murder." And thus give us the means, should we need it.
"What's this about ships?" the Constable asked, "They're not ours to give away."
"No, but you are the law here," Julie replied, "We don't want their owners dragging you in. It's window dressing, I know, but we'd like you to acknowledge the seizure of Orlesian or Qunari vessels as spoils of war. This way, no one can claim Ferelden had a choice in the matter."
I sensed the hand of Leha at work. Squeezing the Fereldans for all they were reasonably worth. No doubt moderated by Julie's wish to not destroy another realm.
"That shouldn't be a problem," Alistair replied, looking over Hawke's shoulder at the list, "What do you need all of this for? Trade?"
"Firelances, cannon, printing presses," Julie mused aloud, "Weapons. The Tevinter fleet is scheduled to arrive on First Day. That leaves us with time, time we can use to prepare."
"Prepare for what?" Constable Hawke asked.
"What else do you use weapons and ships for?" Tam replied, "War."
Velarana cleared her throat, the first noise I had heard from her since I promoted her. "Hopefully, not a war of our choosing," she said sternly.
"No war is of our choosing," said Julie, not quite getting Velarana's objection, "But we fight nonetheless."
"Say I agree to this," Andras said, leaving the list to Hawke, "What happens exactly?"
"We go to Amaranthine," Julie replied, "Once I'm satisfied it is secure, we release the King. I thought we already agreed that you don't have a choice?"
"The details matter," said Alistair, "The Landsmeet wouldn't accept me being held captive for your entire stay either. Just in case you decide to make the stay permanent."
"Well, you have nothing to worry about there," said Julie, "Two days march to the city, maybe another day to secure it. They won't have time to fret for long. You'll be back in Denerim by week's end."
Leha produced another two documents, one in Latin script and another in dwarven script, laying out the full terms of the ransom. Andras signed and sealed it, this time as Arlessa of Amaranthine by royal proclamation. Alistair was legally empowered to fill empty fiefdoms in wartime, so he used that power and added his own seal, in the same grey wax. The Landsmeet could undo the appointment, in theory, once peace returned. But the King seemed to think it unlikely. He had too many supporters and would owe too much to Andras to allow it.
I was happy for the Warden-Commander. She was genuine.
The march to Amaranthine itself began the next morning, and passed by without any resistance or interruption. The countryside around was deserted, the freeholders having fled before the advance of our army. I ordered that no harm should come to their property, and set watches to that effect. A couple of civilians tried to sneak off to loot nearby homes, but they got caught by our sentries. Mike had them flogged.
The second night saw us encamped just outside the city, investing it for siege as a precaution. Not very wholeheartedly, we had the King and its liege lord with us, but still. Once that was complete, there was only one other thing to do.
I ordered Armen and the Libertarians to form a circle outside of camp, and together, they chanted a spell. A gigantic column of blue light shot upwards from them into the sky, our signal to Fisher's fleet that we had won, were in position to take the city in the morning and expected him to enter via the port at the same time. Fisher had already acted, in fact, but we didn't know that. The return signal beam shot up from Marable's Isolationist mages to the north, indicating that the fleet had not run into any trouble they couldn't handle.
Amaranthine was as good as ours.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I said that the occupation of Amaranthine was to begin, but I thought of too many things that needed to happen before we got there. Which resulted in this. As always, there'll be rolling edits for errors, etc.
Quite a bit happened in this chapter. Mariette slipping further into her role, politicking back and forth, and the reunion of our Companions.
At this point, I think it's probably impossible to avoid the harem label, with Aurelia coming around the corner and Mariette's deal, even though neither has actually happened on that front as of yet. I'm prepared for the howls of indignation about it, and I've been giving that problem(?) some thought. It occurs to me that an actual set of people encountering these circumstances would find many pitfalls. Ones that haven't necessarily manifested themselves yet here, due to the three people so far being involved in all directions. Trouble in paradise, is the phrase that comes to mind.
The maps I mentioned last time are ready, I just need to decide which platform to host them is better. Deviantart or Imgur? Perhaps readers can give me their opinion on that. I'd like to put up bigger versions of my story thumbnails, heraldry for various people, etc as well.
As for the story as a whole, it's surpassed 450 followers and is creeping up on 400 favourites, closing in on Battlefield 2183 as my most successful story (by those measures at least). That's amazing, ladies and gents. Cheers for your support.
5 Coloured Walker: Here's more.
I must check if I actually fixed your nitpick from last time now.
Noblescar: Hope this fulfilled your Sam-Alistair needs. I tried to portray Alistair properly, not so much as the absolute ruler of Ferelden that Celene might be to Orlais, hardened but not irreconcilable to people who played Origins. I just can't imagine him losing his shit. Keep calm and carry on.
I wonder what you meant about a change in plans though. Do tell.
Thepkrmgc: Again, hope this fulfilled your expectations for the negotiations.
Katkiller-V: Well, I couldn't see any way for the Fereldans to triumph without it seeming like Deus Ex Machina. The Fereldan military is not examined in any great detail before the last chapter, and in the end it is still a feudal army facing a professional one with radio comms and firearms. I think they did as well as they possibly could have in the circumstances, albeit that them attacking was a strategic error.
Besides, I don't feel the need to smash my characters at every available opportunity haha! Only when it's most interesting to me to do so.
Halo is bad ass: If you mean Hawke, yes. But the elder Hawke in this is a she. And we're going to meet her very soon.
Francisco914: The hopes of Earth weren't won without bloodshed, maybe it's too early to be giving up hope. Glad you enjoyed the story so far either way.
Viper0300: Wish I could release more, but I appreciate the encouragement.
Zx: Found the story by chance how exactly? I'm always interested to hear how people came to it. Hope this satisfied some of your appetite for more.