Chapter Sixty-Four: Prosecution
The arrest of Anders caused utter uproar.
A large section of our guests demanded that he be executed on the spot for his actions in starting the Mage Rebellion, although that was more the work of Fiona, the Grand-Enchanter, and Templars' own unwillingness to bend. When we refused to go along with this, our guests insisted on staying, half doing so in protest and the other half curious to see what represented justice under the Trojan Constitution.
This reflected the general view abroad that we had no business laying judgment over what was widely considered a Chantry matter by all save the Templars and mages themselves. Both the Rebellion and the Templar mass mutinies were condemned by the bulk of Thedas' ruling powers, the exception being Starkhaven and Tantervale, due to their close association with the Order.
There was some relief for us in that the majority of our own people were undecided. There was a small hardcore band of supporters either way, but most had no clue what to think. It was well known that Anders had committed the act of blowing up the Kirkwall Chantry cathedral. The dispute was over motive, the proportionality of his actions, and the state of mage liberty in Thedas a few years previous.
Naturally, our Libertarians came out strongly in favour of acquittal. Armen, perhaps against his better sense of the situation, responded to the will of his electorate and rallied them to the cause. Armen found support in the Tevinters no less, and Aurelia deemed it a duty to row in behind the Libertarians with all her might. Mother Brandon rallied the people who thought Anders deserved the fullest punishment available by law. Neither side managed to sway people to their way of thinking.
Probably because the facts of the matter had not come out. There was much propaganda and rumour surrounding the issue. And likely wouldn't in a trial of the sort I myself had been a subject to in Halamshiral nearly two years before. But there was time to come up with something better, because both sides had sent for witnesses as soon as the Chancellor's plan was announced.
Needless to say, I was the one who had to talk to Anders when we finally came up with the answer two weeks after the summit was supposed to have ended.
The man to be put to the test was imprisoned in decent quarters; yet another chevalier's former tent, placed in between two of our defensive forts in a small enclosure, guarded by our own Templars. I had assured he had everything he needed, except what he wanted; freedom. His people were free to come and go, knowing they were as under the watch of our cannon as the guests were. Cannon beats ordinary mage every time.
After everything had been decided, I made the lonely walk to his temporary residence from town, escorted only part of the way by my Avvar Highlanders, as everyone in Troy knew where I was going to and why. The criers, most of them in Julie's pocket, had announced it.
I was left alone once outside the streets and in the field, until I reached the Templar picket, whom gave me the closed-fist Orlesian salute and let me pass. I couldn't help but feel a sense of fatigue as I got closer. This wasn't what I got into soldiering for, but I was the only man for the job according to the entire Justice Committee. Including both Julie and Tam.
So, when I reached out and entered the tent, throwing off the flaps, I expected the following conversation to be an extremely unpleasant one, and my mood was in accord with this expectation.
I found Anders inside, just finishing off his lunch, his cat in his lap. He was dressed as he had been when I had subdued him, sitting in a comfortable looking chair across from a comfortable looking bunk, his food on a decently constructed small table at elbow height to him. On his bunk were several books and pamphlets, including a copy of Le Sens Commun, printed and annotated in dwarven script.
He didn't notice me until the cat hissed, swiping at me from its perch on his thighs. The man himself was not any more friendly on seeing me, but at least had the dignity to remain polite.
"So, they sent you," he said mid-chew, not rising from his place or stopping what he was doing, "The news must be bad."
"Better than you could hope for," I growled, making my way to the bunk, clearing the top of it to the side and sitting down.
"I hoped for sanctuary and people who understood me," Anders replied, "Imagine my disappointment to find rejection and Templars. Not to mention a Seeker."
"We're not a large nation," I said, leaning forward onto my knees, "Seeking open sanctuary with us was a stupid move. Maybe if you had stayed hidden, we could have tolerated it as an open secret.. but you don't strike me as the type to leave sleeping dogs alone."
"No, I suppose not," Anders frowned, "But you do understand I am staying here of my own free will? Do you know how many times I escaped the Circle at Calenhad?"
"We have some of your fellow alumni with us," I confirmed, "They've been helpful in establishing a general idea of what sort of man you are, for me and my colleagues. Along with the Kirkwall delegation, most of whom were also happy to help."
"Is that your way of saying you have me cold?" the mage asked, "Guilty without so much as hearing the counterargument."
I sat up again and crossed my arms, displeased at his assumptions.
"That is not how this is going to work," I said, "We've never had a murder trial of this type before. Until now, we've simply followed the dictates of Orlesian legal procedure, with the laws themselves written by the Assembly. But Orlais doesn't have a procedure for this, and the Chantry doesn't like procedure other than a railroading to a guilty verdict."
Anders' nose twitched slightly as he took a sharp intake of breath. Unsure of what I meant exactly by railroading, probably. He took a moment to work it out, taking another spoonful of the stew he had in front of him, the cat watching the food pass over its head into his mouth. Which was quite cute, because seconds earlier it had been watchful of me rather than the food.
"So how is it going to work?" the mage asked, "Going to make a show of it?"
"The court will be open," I replied, "If that's what you're asking."
"Will you have enough room?" he joked, "I'm quite the popular attraction."
"I'm sure you are," I groaned, "It'll be in the Assembly Chamber itself. Plenty of room."
He nodded, probably having seen the building from a distance. No way he had gotten in to see it though. We had too many guarding the outer works for him to have passed unnoticed.
"The Seeker and the Grand-Cleric will be the ones bringing the case against you," I explained, "The Chantry have the expertise to make the case, and the Seeker is an experienced interrogator by her own admission."
Anders frowned, as he kept on chewing. "No surprises there," he said, "No doubt they want me dead."
I nodded. "They both wanted a quick, one day trial," I said, "They almost got their way; the whole thing is to last only three days."
The mage straightened himself in his chair. "Can I speak for myself?" he asked, "Will I have the chance to explain why I did it?"
"You'll be able to speak for yourself, yes, " I explained, "But you'll be represented by Armen Cartier and Aurelia Tiberia Valentina, who'll speak on your behalf most of the time. The First Enchanter of the Circle, and the Tevinter ambassador."
After another moment's thought, the mage's eyebrows raised as high as they could go.
"Your friend and your wife are going to defend me?" he smiled, "Maybe I'm not doomed after all."
I rubbed the back of my neck, because the awkward part had finally arrived.
"Well, considering I am the chief judge, they'll certainly be able to turn my attention to things," I said, just coming out with it.
Anders stopped mid-way through another bite, putting the spoon back into the bowl with a clink. "You're the one going to decide my fate?" he said flatly.
"Myself, the former seneschal of Hearth and an elven mage of the Sabrae," I replied, "The seneschal is a legal expert and a magistrate in his own right. The Dalish... well, she's supposed to be the neutral person. She's a mage, but not one who has experienced life in the Circle. As for me, they wanted me on it because I have spent most of my adult life fighting terrorists. I know what terrorism looks like."
Anders scratched his chin, put the cat down on the floor, and stood up. The cat promptly bolted away outside. "I don't understand," he said, "Why are you here?"
"To answer any questions you might have about what's going on," I replied, watching the man pace around a little.
The mage looked at me like I was being absurd, mouth tight with doubt.
"Terrorism," he said, diving straight in, "What is terrorism?"
"According to our laws, use of violence for political ends," I said, before adding, "Without the authorisation of a sovereign government. Warfare without the rightful authority to carry it out."
Anders stopped pacing and his lips curled upwards at the edges slightly. "Doesn't that make you a terrorist?" he asked, "You fought against your rightful rulers in Orlais, didn't you?"
"I had the backing of the people of the Eastern Dales," I replied, "Both their elected representatives and the nobles. The Lords and the Commons, together. You acted alone in the name of people who never had a vote over what you planned to do."
Anders turned away from me, with a strange shudder, before responding in a slightly deeper voice than before.
"I do not think you have the objectivity to judge me, Lord Marquis," he said, "If that is what you say."
Perhaps he was right, but I was intent on doing my duty nonetheless, aware of my possible bias in the matter.
"What you did could be justified, depending on the circumstances," I replied, "That's what the trial is going to determine."
"So we can walk free?" Anders continued, still turned away, "If we can prove... what? That what we did was necessary?"
The man's demeanour had changed, but at the time, I put this down to the revelation of my position as judge over his actions.
"If you did not intend to murder Grand-Cleric Elthina specifically, if you carried out the attack on the Chantry with anything resembling legitimacy," I said, "And if you can justify your use of magic in doing so, you will walk free."
"And my defenders are aware of these … parameters?" the mage asked.
"The exact situation in which you would be freed was the main thing we discussed," I said, "The witnesses you asked for are coming. We'll commence as soon as everyone has arrived, or before if the Assembly so votes to do so." The patience of Velarana for hanging around while this political crisis brewed was limited, even if she wanted to do the right thing.
Anders seemed to twitch, before he came around to sit in his seat again, looking me straight in the eye with a confident twinkle in his eye.
"You have a strange sense of justice, Marquis," he declared.
"No," I replied, "I have a better sense of justice. Developed by my people over centuries of trial and error, of men being punished or tried unfairly and of corrections being made, by both judges and lawmakers."
"So I'm to be tried in the manner of your world," Anders mused, "How interesting."
"No, you're not," I said, "But you'll be tried more fairly than anyone in Thedas has been, ever. You'll have to be satisfied with that."
"I do not live in hope of redemption," Anders snorted, "But if I can stand up and tell the world about what I am fighting against, it will be worth it. Even if I die."
A man of conviction, then. He wasn't alone in that. Not in Troy. If it had been a jury trial, perhaps his acquittal would have been a foregone conclusion after all. He had a certain charisma, because you could see in his eyes that he believed in every facet of his rhetoric. No wonder he had a troupe of Libertarians following him.
I did not see the fanatic. But then, the fanatic wasn't really him to begin with.
Now it was my turn to ask a question. I grabbed his copy of Le Sens Commun and held it up.
"You're not the only one who wants freedom, Anders," I said, waving the pamphlet around, "You were just ill-equipped and ill-placed to act on it, even if we do find you innocent come the end of the month."
People acting alone tend to not be the best placed to change things, insofar as Anders was acting alone... There are exceptions, but not many. Gavrilo Princip is the only one that comes to mind.
"Anyone who finds themselves chased and hounded is equipped to fight," he replied, "Anyone who would find themselves chained, beaten, raped and enslaved is placed in the position of having to fight so, or suffer forever."
"Perhaps, but there is such a thing as strategy," I said, getting up from the bunk and putting the pamphlet down, "And you don't get to make the decision yourself to begin a war."
"The war had already begun," Anders said, "And I'll prove it."
The look of pure determination in his narrowed eyes, bound up with steel, took me aback.
"I look forward to hearing you out," I said, "Perhaps you'll convince me."
"Trust me, Marquis," Anders said, "When you hear of what the Templars do, from the mouths of the victims themselves, you'll see things my way."
My jaw clenched. He was going to turn the trial into a way to broadcast the miseries that mages were forced to live through. That would have political consequences in itself, regardless of the verdict. It might even sway the other judges. Perhaps he did have a sense of strategy after all.
The trial began in the midst of the first summer storm; the previous days having been hot and humid, the planet decided our little part of it had seen enough for the moment, and torrential downpours came on, accompanied by thunder and lightning.
The storms were fierce, and although we were protected from the worst of it by the Isle of Dogs, it didn't stop a lightning strike on one of the former pirate frigates. Only quick intervention from mage-generated blizzards stopped the fire reached the blackpowder magazine, which would have sent the vessel to the moons.
I didn't see it of course, because I was too busy setting up for the trial in the Assembly room.
The public still turned out in huge numbers despite the rain, and it was taking quite a while to get them settled. There had been a lottery for places, but the prominent diplomats were given pride of place to see the beginnings of Trojan justice take on a case that would have troubled even the centuries' old legal systems of Orlais or Nevarra.
The patter on the high-peaked wooden roof of the building was completely drowned out as my fellow judges and I took our seats atop the speaker's platform. It had been cleared of its usual dais for the occasion in favour of three comfortable chairs, behind a large table draped with the new Trojan tricolour of blue, white and red. The same flag that was draped from as many of the supporting beams as could be fit.
In other words, the noise of feet shuffling in, the chatter, the rain and the visual distractions of the space all combined to give someone an opportunity to speak to me.
Velarana intercepted me, just before I stepped up to my place at the centre of the judges' table.
"Marquis, I have spoken to the Kirkwallers," the Chancellor said quietly, her hand gripping my arm, "Before, I could not have agreed to help them... but if this trial goes the right way, the Starkhaveners' occupation is no longer required. If they stay, they're aggressors, and our intervention becomes possible. "
She released my arm, and looked me dead in the eye.
"But only if this trial goes the right way, the way everyone knows it must," she said, "Guilty, Marquis. He must be found guilty."
And so, the first major trial of our little Republic was put under political pressure. The Chancellor knew rightly that it was wrong, and that I knew better than anyone that it was wrong. Which led me to believe that she was doing a little reverse psychology, that she actually wanted to sink the very idea of intervention in Kirkwall via a not guilty verdict.
It sent my jaw on edge, the game she was playing.
"Careful Chancellor," I said through my teeth, "Or I'll hold you to that."
"I hope you do," she said, over her shoulder as she moved to her own place, by Julie, Tam and Leha in the front row, guarded by marines and Grenadiers surrounding their seats.
Game after game. She was perfectly happy to see me take control by force. It would confirm everything she thought about us not having a king or queen; namely that we needed one. Fucking tedious.
So, that little episode over with and my head needing clearing, I got on with what I had come to do. I climbed onto the platform, swept past Ellana Lavellan, and stood in front of my chair, before the entire crowd.
They went silent at once; they had been watching, probably having noticed my little encounter with the leader of our country, and awaited my word. I didn't want to keep them waiting, it gave me no satisfaction.
"Bring in the accused!" I commanded, at the top of my voice.
A cheer went up, signalling that the trial was as much about theatre as anything else for the masses. From the large doors leading directly to the outside, a squad of Templars in full plate came marching in, down the central aisle that had been sealed off with ship rope. In their midst was Anders, in chains. Behind was the defence and prosecution teams. All save for Aurelia were soaking wet, having come from the place of Anders' imprisonment directly.
Aurelia had placed a sort of whirlwind around her as she walked, to prevent any water from touching her. Even her boots were dry, except for the soles. Once inside, she dismissed the magical effect with a tiny flick of her wrist, derisively, before resuming her grip on her naginata.
The sight of it cheered me up to no end.
Regardless, the damp had been taken into account, and both counsel and accused had braziers nearby their own places to dry them off a little. The smell wasn't pleasant, but hey, there were already hundreds of people standing around close by.
Anders was placed on the space directly in front of me, practically below my nose, while the defence were to the left and the prosecution to the right. They sat themselves down, only Aurelia seeming comfortable, bizarrely.
I addressed the reason why we were all there.
"Anders of Kirkwall," I proclaimed, in Common, "You are accused of the targeted murder of Grand-Cleric Elthina, the terrorist attack on the Chantry of Kirkwall resulting in the loss of a large but indeterminate number of lives, and the use of magic for malign purposes. Are you guilty of some or all of these crimes?"
Anders did not reply; he had been coached well. He looked up at me like I was Satan himself, or one of the magisters that breached the Golden City.
Armen stood from his seat beside Aurelia to answer the charges. "Not guilty," he said simply, with a smirk meant for me alone.
"Very well," I said, looking to Cassandra Pentaghast, "The prosecution may begi.."
"The defence would like to register a complaint," Armen continued, interrupting me, in Orlesian no less. Playing to the audience, since some of our people still did not speak Common passably.
My typical exasperation with Armen was multiplied four-fold by the presence of the crowd.
"What is it, Armen?" I sighed, throwing court etiquette out the window.
"Pretty simple really," the mage said, "This whole trial is an injustice. For one, a foreigner or one of our own generals are not qualified to judge anything. And three days Sam? You were only going to get two, once upon a time, which was a disgrace, and you weren't accused of anything like what this man is accused of!"
"This is intolerable," Pentaghast declared, rising to her feet, "They're trying to go back on what was agreed, and drag this whole thing out until the Templars march on the city. It's bait for a trap. A speedy trial is the only way to have any trial at all."
"No trial at all is better than a bad trial," Armen said, pointedly ignoring the Seeker, "And a speedy trial is a bad one. As for the Templars, this whole country is ready for battle. Let them try."
Another cheer went up, lasting longer this time. Pentaghast threw a dirty look at the masses, but they didn't care.
I got that sinking feeling, the one I get when someone is more or less right. But it wasn't my decision alone to make. And as Armen said, the Templars coming to Val Halla was nothing I would be concerned about. If anything, the Templars showing up would advance things to my liking.
"The counsel for the defence makes a good point," I said, "Three days isn't enough. As Chief Justice, I call a vote; the trial should go on as long as it needs to find the truth of these charges. Clermont? Lavellan? Your opinions?"
The prosecution didn't object, though they should have. Perhaps because they knew that only I had a real sense of moral obligation to a lengthy, drawn out trial. They knew where Armen's ideals were coming from: Earth. Assuming Pentaghast even believed I was from there at this stage, that is.
The former seneschal of Hearth, the only real lawyer we had, naturally thought it was his prerogative to speak first. Ellana said nothing, but waited to hear his logic. Clermont was not one to give up on the traditions he had been immersed in.
"The complaint is absurd," Clermont declared, "With the greatest respect Marquis, this trial is exceedingly generous. Crimes such as these, and with this quality of evidence, it would be decided in half a day anywhere else in the world. If anything, we ought to be proud of the progress this trial represents, rather than demanding perfection."
The crowd seemed split on that idea, but more accepting than I would have thought.
"First of the Sabrae?" I asked, "You're the tiebreaker. Your judgement?"
Ellana Lavellan was a quiet soul. Or so I had thought. I was sure she would side with me.
"Such decisions must be made swiftly," she said, "Among my people, someone accused of such a crime would have a similar opportunity to defend themselves. I do not see your justice as superior to ours, nor ours to yours. Three days will suffice. That is my judgement."
Quiet she might have been, but she was in fact exactly like Clermont; soaked in a culture that valued swift justice. If anything, the Dalish were even less able to afford the sort of trial that I would recognise as fair.
"Very well," I said, again eyeing Armen, "I concede the point. The trial will go forward as planned." Outnumbered, I had little other choice.
Pentaghast's face looked relieved enough that she might have falle into her chair, but controlled herself inside two seconds, instead looking to the Grand-Cleric beside her. Brandon, for her part, was highly amused by the whole display, a wide grin on her face. She had been counting on the vote of Lavellan in this matter, it was clear, and perhaps had been informed beforehand that the defence would try what they just had.
If anyone had learned patience and tact when dealing with Libertarian idealism, it was Grand-Cleric Brandon, the woman who had co-opted what she liked from the very same ideals and remained the barrier to those she didn't.
With the vote conclusively going against me, Armen's opening salvo was defeated, and the trial began as it should have before.
The prosecution had all of the first day to make their case.
Seeker Pentaghast began by reading the official Chantry report on the entire affair into the record. I won't reproduce the entire thing here, except to state the three main points.
One, that the incident began with Anders entering the Chantry, under the pretence of having business with the Champion of Kirkwall, who was speaking to Elthina at the time. This was according to surviving witnesses, of which there were a few whom had exited before the explosion. The Champion being one of the survivors, but not a witness. She was up north, attacking the Qunari at our own behest.
Two, that an explosive device of some kind detonated, the initial explosion of which would have destroyed the Chantry by itself, but it reached 'red lyrium' deposits below and multiplied the ferocity of the event by an order of magnitude or two. Examination of the site by alchemists and Templars under the direction of the Seekers had determined this.
The 'red lyrium' also caused the explosion to become more erratic, redirecting its forces in strange vectors; unfortunately for Kirkwall, even more of its destructive potential was directed towards the city as a result.
Three, that as much as half the city was destroyed, heavily damaged or 'tainted' by the event. Large pieces of debris from the stoutly built Chantry rained down everywhere. Fires burned uncontrolled throughout Lowtown; the city had no dedicated firefighters. Later, red crystals the size of trees began sprouting here and there, until Templars were sent to dispose of the ones in populated areas.
On its own, the report painted a grim picture of what had happened, but it didn't do much to prove that Anders was responsible for any of it. But it formed the technical basis for the witness testimonies to come.
Cassandra Pentaghast called the first witness: Bran, the Provisional Viscount of Kirkwall.
The man had stayed since the conference at the order of the Seeker, despite very much wanting to be back home, worried as he was about the affairs of his broken and occupied city in his absence. He didn't strike me as a man to lie to get someone he thought guilty convicted, nor do I think he believed he needed to in this case.
Good first witness, in other words, at least in my eyes. Probably in Clermont's eyes too. Maker only knows what Lavellan made of the man. His biases would be easy to pick out, and he wouldn't fudge facts. He might lie outright instead, but I was confident of catching that too. No shortage of such behaviour when dealing with local politicians in the Mid-East.
Bran stood by the prosecution team, where he could address everyone present and still be heard by the masses, wearing a clean set of formalwear with the emblem of Kirkwall on his tunic. He was sworn in by Grand-Cleric Brandon, taking his oath quickly.
"My lord Viscount," Pentaghast began, "Thank you for coming."
"Acting Viscount," Bran insisted, "Ask your questions. I am not comfortable doing this."
No lie there.
"Very well," the Seeker pressed on, "You were present during the time leading up to the attack on the Chantry, as a part of Kirkwall's government."
"When the Templars ran the city, yes," Bran said, his tone studied into neutrality, "And before."
"And during that time, Anders was agitating against the Templars," said the Seekers, "Undermining the Chantry's authority."
There was a pause.
"Anders did not submit to Templar authority," Bran said, carefully, "Reports had him running a clinic in Lowtown, protected by the residents there. He was occasionally linked to various crimes, some directed against the Templars, but his healing work on behalf of the city was such that apprehending him was deeply unpopular among the guard."
That didn't sound right. Not the facts he had laid out, but where he had got them.
"Hold on," I said loudly, pre-empting the next question, "You said you read reports. Why has the prosecution not dragged the Captain of the City Guard in here to speak to us instead? I have spoken to the woman, she doesn't strike me as a liar, so that can't be it."
My assumption being that she would be less cooperative with the aims of the prosecution.
"She refused, Marquis," Grand-Cleric Brandon responded from her seat, her hands folded on the table, "It is, as you would say, okay. The Viscount was the path by which reports filtered through to the Templars. In fact, the man in front of you was responsible for holding back information from Knight-Commander Meredith, at the request of the same Captain."
Knowing that stopping the whole thing here on the basis of hearsay would be voted down, a concept I barely understood in truth, I simply opted to do a little information filtering of my own.
"Prosecution can continue, as long as the witness sticks only to what he knows himself," I said, "From reports or his own eyes. Do you have the reports?"
"They were held by the Templars," Bran replied, "They were taken with the remaining Templar troops when they vacated the city a little more than a year ago, as far as I am aware."
I waved them on to continue, feeling that labouring over that point would just waste time. To the evident relief of most of the audience; stopping the juicy details for a technicality was boring.
"So you can confirm that Anders was the centre of anti-Chantry resistance in the city," Seeker Pentaghast continued, "That he had ingratiated himself with the local population, that he actively sought to fight the Chantry and liberate the mages."
"I can," said the acting Viscount.
"And you are not a friend to Anders?" Pentaghast asked, "Did you ever avail of his services?"
The viscount's face curled with annoyance. That wasn't a question he liked, or one he expected to get. Which got me thinking about all sorts of reasons why he might not admit that Anders was a friend, or why he might not want to admit needing medical help.
"Answer the question, Lord Viscount," said Clermont, impatient as the witness' silence stretched a little too long.
"I am not his friend," said Bran, "I have availed of his services, but it was purely a business transaction. I respected his professionalism as a healer, but no more."
That seemed to displease the Grand-Cleric, but the Seeker was unphased, despite it not being the answer she had expected. Pentaghast turned to us.
"Viscount, can you describe the damage done to Kirkwall by the attack?" Cassandra said, her back to the witness, "How many lives were lost?"
"Significant amounts of debris fell from the sky onto the city," Bran recounted, "Several hundred were crushed in their homes and on the streets. Fires started throughout Lowtown and parts of Hightown, presumably by lamps or open fires being smashed open into wooden homes. The fires killed far more. Thousands, most likely. "
I have to admit that my eyebrows arched upwards at this testimony. And I saw the next part coming.
"Civil order broke down immediately, preventing any attempt to contain the flames. Only the timely arrival of a torrential downpour the next day saved the city from being completely destroyed. We couldn't bring in aid, because much of the harbour was also blocked up with debris, and it was some time before we mapped it for safe navigation."
A society just emerging from its medieval period wasn't exactly suited to cope with such a thing. However, the last part really flew over my head, and would until the Coryphean War.
"In the days afterwards, large red lyrium crystals began to form," Bran concluded, "They sprouted from the ground anywhere the debris had fallen. Being near the material is extremely unpleasant, it makes you hear voices. We had to cordon off the worst of it."
"So, the city was almost destroyed," Pentaghast stated, "No one was spared. But Lowtown saw the most damage, after the Chantry itself?"
Bran nodded.
"My lords, my lady, there is the sort of man before you," Cassandra said, "Anders hid among the people of Kirkwall, in Lowtown. He pretended to be their friend, while plotting murder and mayhem. He used them. And when the time to strike finally came, they were expendable."
"No!" Anders shouted from his place, "It wasn't meant to happen like that!"
"The accused will be silent!" Clermont shouted back, "Or I will have him gagged."
"Easy," I warned everyone, "Take a deep breath!"
The warning didn't work. There was a chorus of argument, and roaring from the crowd for Anders to be released from his chains or killed forthwith. It sounded like a heaving ocean storm slamming against the coast, and as about as articulate. I stood up from my seat, and shouted again, for silence. Again to no avail.
Julie gestured to me, making some sort of hand signals. Asking me if she should do something. Not sure what she was trying to communicate, I gave her a wave of the hand. Maybe she had something she could do. I had expected her to get up and make herself seen.
Instead, she walked awkwardly through her part of the crowd, carefully given her condition, straight to the guards. She snatched a firelance out of the hands of the first, aimed it off into the air with the butt steadied in on her right hip, and fired.
Which probably wouldn't have been enough, but the rest of the guards took her cue, and let off a volley, again into the air and thankfully not giving the impression that they were firing into the crowd.
Silence descended like a veil. The point had been made.
"I think the prosecution has made its point," I declared, "The viscount will now be cross-examined by the defence." I wasn't going to tolerate the Seeker pushing the whole court into disorder, so thumbed at Armen to get started with it.
My friend did not leave his place to do so. He steepled his hands on the table in front of him, and leaned a little more forwards.
"Viscount, your city was under the Templars' rule," Armen said, "Under Knight-Commander Meredith's rule."
The viscount's face became inscrutable, his wide-eyed look of attention dampened a little.
"Legally speaking, no, it was not," Bran replied, "But the Templars were the only force that could restore order after the Qunari rampaged. The City Guard did not have enough men, and many of the nobles had fled. No coin, no new guards. Meredith saved Kirkwall from itself in the months afterwards."
"So you approved of her keeping control afterwards?" Armen asked, "You were glad someone stepped into the void and took power?"
The viscount shook his head. "The nobles should have been recalled after order had been restored," he replied, "And a new viscount elected, to create a legitimate authority. As I have tried to accomplish in the aftermath of the Chantry... incident."
"So you objected to them on a legal basis," Armen said, "You're a bureaucrat, I can understand that. But what about how Meredith used her power? What was city life like under her rule?"
"I am not the right person to say," Bran replied.
"We disagree," proclaimed Aurelia loudly from her seat, "Answer the question."
"Yes, Lord Viscount," Clermont chimed in, "Answer the question. You only have a right to refuse a question if you think it could possibly incriminate you. If you want to use that right, you can. Otherwise, no dodging."
Bran grimaced, glancing nervously at Seeker Pentaghast. Afraid of what consequences might follow his testimony getting back to the Chantry, or the Templars. The Seeker didn't seem to have any malicious intent.
"The Chantry wants the truth too, I'm sure," I said, "There's no reason for you to be afraid of the Seeker. Not here. And if the Divine has any sense, she'll make sure not a single hair on your head is harmed."
Doubt in his eyes, the viscount proceeded to answer. "The Templars broadly abused their authority," he said, "The citizens were harassed in the name of rooting out the mage underground. Sympathisers were beaten, robbed and raped. It got so bad, the remaining nobility appealed to the Champion of Kirkwall for aid, as did the mages themselves."
"And did the Champion give help?" Armen asked.
"I do not know," Bran said, "I have heard things, but I am not allowed to repeat rumour here."
"Then let's discuss something that is not rumour," Armen said quickly, "Grand-Cleric Elthina was the senior Chantry official. Spiritual protector of all the Marches south of Starkhaven. Was she aware of the situation?"
"She was," Bran confirmed, "I spoke with her many times on the matter. She thought what was happening was terrible, but that it wasn't her role to judge Meredith."
"But that is nonsense," Armen said, "We know that Elthina rejected the Right of Annulment. Clearly, Meredith considered herself Elthina's subordinate, or she would not have asked the Grand-Cleric for the right to kill every mage in Kirkwall; man, woman and child. Even if this is the only check on a Knight-Commander's power, it proves a hierarchy exists."
"The Grand-Cleric wanted peace," Bran said, "She stated that in every conversation with me. In front of the Knight-Commander even."
"She could have declared that peace herself," Armen said, "She could have ordered the Templars to cease their activities and convened negotiations towards a peaceful settlement of matters in the Circle. Their refusal would have been open defiance of the Chantry, a breach of the Nevarran Accords. At any point, did she ask for your cooperation in making such a settlement happen?"
"She was in communication with the mages and templars," Bran said, "She tried."
Armen finally stood up, and approached the witness' table, and looked up towards we judges with fire in his eyes.
"It is clear from your own testimony that Meredith thought Elthina had the final say at least when it came to murdering every mage," he said, "There are also other precedents, that clearly establish Grand-Clerics as the civilian authorities that the Templars must obey. No order to stand down was given."
Murmurs went through the room. Clearly, the crowd was being swayed towards the defence's argument. I wasn't so sure, myself.
"In other words, Grand-Cleric Elthina was cooperating with Meredith," Armen said, his voice rising in volume but dropping in pitch, "She was facilitating the Knight-Commander's seizure of power, endorsing every abuse short of mass murder through her silence. That makes her a legitimate target for the mage underground, of which Anders was the only known survivor in Kirkwall at the time of the attack."
"Objection," said Grand-Cleric Brandon coolly, "I was under the impression that this was for asking questions, not making statements."
"The Grand-Cleric is correct," said Ellana, "You'll have a chance to say what you think happened on the third day of this trial, using the witness' statements to do it. In the mean time, keep to questions."
"In that case, we have no more for this witness," Armen smirked, "Thank you."
He returned to his seat, the crowd was restless. Preferring the nip this trend of counsel yapping and audience rambling, I dismissed the court for an hour. I had little doubt the other witnesses would be just as incendiary, if not more so.
I spent the time I had bought from my decision after Viscount Bran's testimony to get the other judges on side for keeping the peace. Clermont suggested outright expelling the public wholesale, but Lavallen shot that down and dressed the former seneschal of Hearth down with a small speech about everyone needing to see justice happen. Pre-empting me doing so.
So we all agreed that our voices would be one on matters of order, and that we would expel anyone who disrupting the proceedings. We needed every spare minute from now on.
So, we returned from the office we were using as temporary chambers, and reconvened the court for the next part of the prosecution's arguments.
Pentaghast resumed her place, standing before the crowd, and raised her voice to its highest possible volume. "We call Varric Tethras of the Kirkwall Merchant's Guild," she boomed, "Bring him in!"
A pair of the strange Chantry soldiers proceeded to open doors, not to the outside, but a smaller pair to where the Aequitarian political offices were usually located. Behind which their colleagues were waiting, with the witness.
On seeing it, I knew there was going to be more trouble.
Varric Tethras was a dwarf. That wasn't the trouble. He was a well built guy, dressed in boots, pants and a half-open shirt, all of high quality. A man of relative wealth. No problem with that either. His eyes that searched the room as soon as the way was opened, but perhaps not in the way a soldier does. If I had to guess, I would have said thief. But that wasn't the trouble either.
No, it was his jewellery that was trouble. He was wearing big bracelets. The sort made out of heavy iron, with chain between them.
Mr. Tethras was a prisoner in Pentaghast's custody. But she had no authority to hold prisoners on our territory. A fact not lost on anyone in the place.
The crowd bellowed with anger, the discharges of firelances into the air doing nothing to their mood this time. In fact, they began to produce their own weapons, everything from firelances through swords to makeshift clubs made of thick tree branches. And began to move ominously towards the offenders.
When the Channtry soldiers began to draw their own weapons, and moved Tethras between them and crowd, I could see the bloodshed to come like it had already happened.
Revolutionary fervour is hard to control. But not impossible to turn to your advantage.
"Sergeant at arms!" I shouted in Orlesian, so loudly that my throat hurt, "Arrest those men and free Tethras! If they resist, kill them!"
"Oui, Marquis!" the Grenadier sergeant replied. A few more barks, and the troops that were stopping the crowd instead turned about and aimed their bayonets at the Chantry soldiers, advancing quickly.
It had the desired effect. The Seeker jumped up on a table, from her original position no less, and screamed at her subordinates to drop their weapons. As the Grenadiers grabbed their new prisoners and released Tethras, I couldn't help but admire the feats of quick thinking, good judgment and sheer physical capability that Penthaghast had just pulled out of her chainmail.
The crowd backed off from the remaining Chantry soldiers, cheering and bringing Tethras to the witness stand, his chains thrown aside.
"Seeker Penthaghast, explain yourself immediately," I said, in Common this time, "Did we not make it clear that you have absolutely no authority here?"
The audience shut up at last, letting her reply and backing off again.
"He is the most important source of information on the actions of the Champion of Kirkwall," Pentaghast said, still on her perch atop the prosecution's table, "I apologise for not explaining the circumstances, but..."
"Mister Tethras," I said, interrupting her and addressing the dwarf, "I apologise for the manner in which you were treated. It's unacceptable. However, I must ask that you testify. You are free to leave even if you do not, and you will be not be harassed by any Chantry officer or cleric while in our country. I can understand you not wanting to, but we have a mess to sort out here, will you help us?"
Varric Tethras frowned, shot a glance at the Seeker (to her annoyance), and finally, smiled up at us.
"It would be my pleasure," Tethras said, "Killer."
There was a gasp of shock from multiple mouths at what he had said. I didn't care. I reckoned he was just being cheeky, to put the Seeker in the shade.
"Your witness, Seeker, " I chuckled, with a shake of my head, "You have my permission to press him."
Pentaghast dropped down from the table, and bowed at the waist to me. She had Brandon administer the oath, Tethras turning out to be Andrastian, and the questioning began in earnest.
Tethras did not dodge, or to my knowledge, lie. The Seeker's first number of questions mainly concerned not so much Anders but the actions of the Champion of Kirkwall in the months leading up to the attack on the Chantry cathedral.
How Marian Hawke had assisted the Chantry in 'dealing with' escaped mages, mostly by letting them go. How she broke up a conspiracy led by a Templar called Thrask, one to overthrow the whole system in Kirkwall by using blood mage and treachery. How both such events led to increasing paranoia on Meredith's part, and a breakdown in whatever working relationship the Templars had with the Circle mages.
The most interesting part of Tethras' testimony was that Lady Nightingale herself delivered the Divine's order to Elthina to leave Kirkwall, but the Grand-Cleric had refused to. This, I think, was the fulcrum of the whole testimony as intended by the Seeker: Elthina had stayed on the insistence that she could still help negotiate a compromise.
Which sorta poured cold water on the theory that Elthina was maliciously supporting Meredith, perhaps enough to kill it. If she could push that angle, the Seeker would have a murder conviction regardless of anything else that was argued.
All in all, the testimony took up the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. Pentaghast was very detailed in her questioning, especially at every interaction with Anders. Her final questions were on that very topic.
"How long have you known Anders?" she asked.
"Years," Tethras said, "Blondie has been hanging around Kirkwall since a little after the Blight in Ferelden. Former Grey Warden. Guess his duty to others kept up, generally did a lot of good."
"I didn't ask what he did," said Pentaghast, "Or what you thought of it."
"But you were going to," Tethras smirked, "You were establishing how well I know the man. I've drank with him, fought with him, and have been healed by him on too many occasions. Get to the point, Seeker, I think we're all getting bored."
There was a rumble of agreement, and not just from the audience. Clermont added his own throat to the sensation.
"In your opinion, is Anders capable of killing people in cold blood?" Pentaghast growled, "Did he give any indication or hint about his murderous plans?"
"He admitted he was beginning to lose control, more than once," Tethras said, "The city really took a dive, and the worse it got, the more angry Blondie got. It would be hard to blame him, if you had seen it yourself. If he hadn't went and blown up the Chantry."
"So your answer is that he is capable," the Seeker said, "Of murdering Grand-Cleric Elthina. Of declaring a one man war on the Chantry. Of using illicit magic."
"You know he is, I know he is," Tethras said, folding his arms, "But I won't say why I know. You get that honour, Seeker."
"As we pointed out to the previous witness," Lavellan said loudly, "You are not allowed to refuse questions."
"Unless you don't want to incriminate yourself," Clermont added, wearily.
"It is of no concern," Pentaghast said, before Tethras could respond, "The answer to which he is referring is not one I require of him. The prosecution concludes our questioning here." She bowed slightly at the waist again to us, and went back to her table.
I have to say at this point that I felt the strength of the prosecution's case increasing.
It was Aurelia who stood up to cross-examine this time, her baby-bump requiring her to push her chair all the way back to the barrier before she could stand. I winced, instinctually wanting to go help her up, for which I'd probably get chewed out.
She made her way over to the witness stand, her naginata tapping as she moved. She squared off with Tethras, standing before him. The dwarf's eyes scanned her, widening a little at her … gravid state. That was a little funny, especially when his eyes darted between Julie, Tam and I for the briefest moment.
Yeah, master dwarf, it's all my handiwork. Shocking, I know. Of course, if I had known he would write a comedy with a man stuck between three women he had got 'up the duff' as the Ostwickers say, I likely would have blindfolded him personally before he came in.
"Very simple," Aurelia declared, "I have a few 'yes or no' questions for you."
Tethras opened his mouth to respond, but didn't get there in time.
"First question!" Aurelia continued, "Would you agree with the Viscount that the Templars were robbing, raping and murdering during Meredith's time as the ruler of Kirkwall?"
"Yes," the dwarf replied.
"Would you agree that Meredith recognised the authority of Grand-Cleric Elthina?"
"Yes."
"Did Elthina use her authority to order Meredith to the negotiating table?"
"Not that I know of."
"Did she ever denounce the Templars publicly?"
"No."
Aurelia nodded, and smile warmly at Tethras. Which was probably disconcerting for him, after the rapid fire question round.
"So, to confirm," she said at last, "The Templars were rampaging through Kirkwall at will, some of their own number were even plotting rebellion with mages in defiance of Meredith, yet Grand-Cleric Elthina did not use her authority, however far it went, to stop, condemn or ameliorate the criminal acts. She did not resign in protest, or return to Val Royeaux as ordered. Does that sound correct to you?"
"Pretty much," said Tethras, "But two wrongs don't make a right, what Anders di..."
"I did not ask for your opinion, ser," Aurelia interrupted, "Nor is it relevant. I have no more questions."
She swept back to her seat, having done a good job of mangling the prosecution's attempt to place Elthina as a positive force in Kirkwall at the time. There was no complaint from them though, as Aurelia was right; Varric Tethras had not been brought forward to give his opinion, only facts as he understood them.
With his part done, the dwarven Kirkwaller was escorted to the camp, and did not again fall into Chantry custody. He would later go with the Seeker voluntarily, but that was after the next set of events in Kirkwall.
There was a short break, because after the grilling that Pentaghast had given Tethras, we all needed it. Occasionally, a person does need to relieve themselves. But it was the shortest possible pause, before we were back at it.
The next and last person the prosecution called up was no surprise at all.
"Anders himself must now testify," said Mother Brandon, "We call the defendant."
The man himself had questions to answer. The rule was clear. No one could be made to testify against themselves. That said, him refusing to do so would look bad. I had little doubt that Clermont and Lavellan would see it as evidence of guilty, no matter what the letter of the law said. But that might be better than what he had to say.
I wasn't the one who got to decide, however. I was as much spectator as referee in the whole affair. So, with interest in what Anders would decide, I looked over to Aurelia and Armen for answers.
"I can't force Anders to speak," I declared, "But he has been called. How does he respond?"
"I'll testify," Anders declared in turn, "I have nothing to hide, and cannot hide anything I have done anyway."
"I request a short break to talk with the defendant," Aurelia said, "I do not believe he is of the right mind to go through with this at present."
"He seems lucid to me," Lavellan said. I examined Anders a little, and found myself in agreement with the Dalish mage. He was attentive, awake, and sitting straight. No signs of despair, or madness, or incapability.
And another thought occurred to me; if Anders did not get up and explain himself, whatever verdict we reached would be fatally compromised. Guilty, and we'd be accused of intimidation by those who weren't there. Not guilty, and we'd be accused of letting Anders go without questioning him. He had to testify for any of this to work out.
"Request denied," I said, before looking to Anders himself, "I'll ask you directly this time. Do you wish to testify? Lying to the court is itself a crime. You will be required to tell the truth, and may not refuse questions on any grounds."
Anders nodded. "I do."
"Your witness, Lady Pentaghast," I shrugged, leaning back in my chair to listen.
The Seeker strode forward, placing herself before the accused, facing the crowd but at an angle where we judges could still hear her. She stood around for a moment, inspecting the Assembly chamber in its entirety. What was she doing? Was she nervous? That seemed entirely out of character to me.
"Anders of Kirkwall," she said, "Are you an abomination?"
What a question! Everyone shut their mouths to hear the answer. I think I might have stopped breathing. This was an entirely new dimension to the case. And my mind went back to the moment in his tent, when Anders seemed to become more hostile. Was I speaking to someone other than Anders at that moment?
The man in question was just as quiet as anyone else.
"Are you possessed by a demon?" the Seeker continued, "Answer!"
The man held his silence, but did not fidget either, remaining perfectly still. No sign of nervousness or guilt or indeed any other emotion. His head remained upright, his eyes closed. He looked almost... serene.
I felt my gut shift. What was he up to? He couldn't possibly be drawing magic, could he? He was smack right in the middle of a triangle with Julie, Tam and myself as the points. If he could summon a flame to light a cigarette, I would have been impressed.
"Do not make me draw it out!" the Seeker shouted, "Answer me!"
At first, she got nothing more than a sigh, his head sagging, before it rose up again, his eyes meeting hers directly. Whatever he had been trying to do had failed, and I released the breath I had kept locked up in my chest.
"Yes, I am possessed," Anders said, "By a spirit of Justice."
Low chatter filled the hall at that. Even Aurelia looked disapproving, before deftly disguising her feelings once more.
"Am I speaking to Anders right now, or to 'Justice'?" Pentaghast asked.
"Anders," said the mage, "If he was speaking, you'd know the difference."
"And if I wish to speak to the demon that is inside you?!" the Seeker said, her voice increasing a level in volume, "If this court wishes to?!"
"I'm afraid I cannot help you," the mage replied placidly, "Justice is mostly silent whenever I am near that man."
Anders pointed his chained right hand directly at me.
"He fears the Marquis more than anyone else. Feels himself slowly dissolving, and goes to hide in the depths of my soul. Most of the time."
Truth be told, it was more likely Tam and Julie doing the dissolving at that particular time; they had almost the same capability and were much closer. Possession was something I had seen before; the Qunari mage with his mouth sewn shut, the one that Asala had once led in an attempt to capture me, turned into an abomination when I injured him badly.
Abominations being possessed mages of any sort, but typically referring to ones that go on rampages or campaigns of malicious acts.
"So you admit it," Pentaghast demanded, "You solicited the aid of a demon in your quest to free the mages!"
"The clue is in the name, Seeker," Anders snarled back, "Justice. The tyranny of the regime mages suffer under was apparent to anyone of conscience, and conscience has its place in the Fade. Can you honestly tell me that you thought the Circles were perfect? That there was never any abuse in them?"
"The Seeker's views are not the subject of this trial," Clermont interrupted, "The defendant will answer the question, or it will reflect poorly on his chances for acquittal."
The sole professional lawyer in the room was having no nonsense. He wanted answers. And I felt myself glad he had intervened. Pentaghast was trying to prove a different charge now; unlawful use of magic.
Anywhere else, and it would have meant immediate execution. But we had Avvars. Avvars use possession as a part of their religion. Weak mages that would have fallen to demons are otherwise possessed by more benevolent spirits, for instance. No Tranquil among the mountain men. What mattered to our law was why you were using possession, whether there was consent, and what you ended up doing with it.
Blowing up a Chantry wasn't a legit reason, so the Seeker was onto another good point.
"I did not ask for Justice's help," Anders replied, "It was freely given. He shared my goal, that is all. Of course he did, he is a spirit fighting for what is right, and the Templars are the embodiment of wrong."
I am sure Barris would have had choice words for that, and my mind did go there. To call the Templars the embodiment of evil when hundreds had signed on with us seemed... extreme. But then, I had never lived in Kirkwall.
"Yet vengeance can be mistaken for justice all too easily," Lavellan observed, "What is to stop you, either of you, from crossing that line?"
"What I have done will save millions," Anders said, "Not just mages, but everyone else. Why I fight for mages' freedom, ultimately the numbers are on my side. The world is a darker, more dangerous place without magic being accepted and understood."
"You may have made magic less accepted and understood with your own actions," Lavellen said, an octave lower, "To the benefit of no one."
"These 'Trojans' seem to have seen some," Anders retorted, "Though I doubt the Seeker appreciates it."
Pentaghast frowned deeply, putting her hands on her hips.
"Honestly, I thought interrogating you would be more difficult," she said, "You openly admit you are possessed. You openly admit you allowed it, to aid your cause. If this is not the 'use of magic for malign purposes', then this court is a farce."
She turned to the judges once more.
"I believe we have proved at least that charge, and the rest flows from it," the Seeker concluded, "We're done with him. They can try their best." She waved her hand dismissively at Aurelia and Armen, before making her way back to the defence table.
Aurelia lost no time, not moving from her place, only adjusting her seating as she began. Magic couldn't help everything, I guess. Yet it was a supreme declaration of confidence. No outward worry at the body blow the prosecution had just delivered at all. Well, not from her. Armen looked like he would turn green.
The abomination angle had not been expected.
"Anders, can Justice hear us right now?" my Tevinter bride asked, "Can he speak?"
The accused mage seemed to bite the inside of his cheek, eyes rolling upwards in thought.
"He is aware, and can speak through me," Anders replied, "But he wouldn't speak for long."
Aurelia leaned forwards onto the table.
"So you would say our chances of interrogating him are remote?"
The accused again bit the side of his cheek. A behavioural tick, maybe. One I hadn't noticed before. Related to the possession? I didn't like the implications of it, if so.
"He doesn't recognise the authority of this court," Anders finally said, "He will not cooperate."
Aurelia looked to Armen, who had turned back to his normal colour. My friend's lips thinned, but he gave a barely perceptible movement of his head to give his assent to whatever Aurelia was planning. A move that required total agreement from both.
Very interesting. If I wasn't on the edge of my seat before, this moved me there.
"Can Justice take control of you against your will?" Aurelia asked.
"He can," Anders confirmed, "But he rarely does so. Only to protect my life or our cause."
"On the evening you destroyed the Chantry of Kirkwall," Armen chipped in, "Was it you or Justice in control of your actions?"
"Both," Anders said, "We were one being that night. Our wills were the same."
"Nonsense," Aurelia said, "Anyone with serious knowledge of magic knows that this is impossible. Abominations do not share. One or the other is in control at any one time, the other merely an aid at best."
"What can I say?" the accused replied, "I cannot explain it."
"But I can," Aurelia quipped back, "Justice took control of you, committed the attack, deceiving the Champion of Kirkwall in the process, and when you realised the extent of what that thing had done, you condemned yourself to live with the consequences so that the violence would not be for nothing."
"I deceived the Champion of Kirkwall," Anders raised his voice, "I created the explosive device! I walked into that Chantry!"
"Possession of alchemical materials was not illegal in Kirkwall," Aurelia replied, "Nor is lying to someone! You are not being charged with either as a crime. Were you or were you not in full control of your actions when the Chantry was destroyed?!"
"I... I..." Anders began, stuttering, "I don't know! I remember every movement, every act, as my own. But Justice was also acting. I agreed with what he was doing, despite how terrible it was. The necessity was obvious to me, then and now."
Aurelia paused, consulting with Armen for a moment. Perhaps on a matter of the law; he had been part of the Committee on Magic, the one that had written our provisional laws on magic.
"If you cannot be sure you were in control," Aurelia asked, "How can you be sure that it was you that set the trigger? Or killed the Grand-Cleric? You have made much noise about taking responsibility, but you don't know all of a sudden? Are you responsible for the attack in Kirkwall or not?"
"Enough!" said Anders, his tone lowering, "This line of questioning is irrelevant. Anders knew what happened was necessary. You will cease at once!"
The hairs on my neck stood up on end. That way of speaking, that arrogance and timbre, was familiar. And it was not Anders, I finally understood.
Aurelia practically flew out of her chair at the man, not to attack but to pounce on the opportunity. 'Justice' had arrived, and she would have him answer.
"You see!" she declared, "Whenever the situation demands it, this demon will take control! And while this trial is serious, it could not have been as serious as walking into a Chantry with the intent to kill everyone inside and blow it to the moons! Justice! I address you directly: Was it you or Anders who destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall?"
"I merely strengthened his will," Justice said, "So that the necessary actions could be brought about to stop the visitation of harm upon magekind. Something you would appreciate if you had lived in a case all your life, Tevinter."
"We do not need your assistance, demon," Armen replied coldly, "As any Trojan mage can tell you."
"Without you, Anders never would have been able to do it!" Aurelia declared, "Is that not right? Without you, there is no Kirkwall Incident. No Mage-Templar War."
"Speculation," Justice said, "I was drawn to Anders precisely because of his deep sense of moral right. He is motivated by a perpetual love for his fellows. Even if he could not have acted at that particular time, I view it as inevitable that he would have acted at some time. And not long afterwards."
"Now who is speculating," Aurelia said, "You have more or less admitted that Anders' mind was not fully his own. Thank you." And with that, she sat down again.
Again, the defence had done a good job at defusing the prosecution's argument after the shock of the initial reveal... but perhaps not good enough. Terrorism isn't merely a crime, it was a conspiracy crime. Assisting knowingly doesn't get you a lesser sentence, you get the same charge as the person who pulls triggers. And Pentaghast was dead right; inviting in an abomination to do some killing is pretty much straight up malign use of magic, though our laws were not explicit about that.
Neither Justice nor Anders said anything more, as we wrapped up the proceedings for the day with some minor witnesses from the prosecution, nothing of great consequence arising out of them. Packing in the tales of woe from Anders' actions is all, as if we needed any more of that. Perhaps it was padding against the inevitable tales of woe that would crop up the next day, from mages whom had lived in the Kirkwall Circle.
Regardless, the stakes managed to up themselves before we even got to that point.
That night, I collapsed onto my army cot in our room on the Mont de Mars, the one I had been sleeping in separately for the safety of the little ones. Fire crackling nicely, smell of pine wood and the remains of our pork dinner floating around a bit. General log cabin goodness.
Naturally, Tam and Julie were right there with me. Julie in bed, reading something related to her factories, Tam sitting at my head, playing with my hair in an damned delightful way that was slowly but surely putting me to sleep. All of us were dressed down for sleeping, Julie in nothing more than a tee under a blanket.
Aurelia was nowhere to be found, and not just because she slept in the 'Tevinter Embassy'. Normally, she would hang around until a later hour, but as she was a defence counsel, she was banned from seeing me until the trial was over. Same thing for Armen.
We weren't discussing the trial, or anything in particular. It had been a trying day, and we were just enjoying each other's company.
Count on Mariette de Villars to burst in on my moment of rest.
Admittedly, she did so quite respectfully. She knocked on the door, Tam got up and opened it, and she made apologies for coming in. It wasn't particularly late, but everyone knew that interrupting us when we were all alone in a room together was bad form.
Who knows what we might be up to?
Mariette always was the person least bothered by that question, but she never disregarded it purely for her own amusement. In this instance, it wasn't for her amusement even slightly.
"Marquis.. Marquise... Warden-Commander..." the harlequin said politely, "I thought you should be the first to know, before I present this to the Chancellor. Things are happening."
She handed over a single-page document to me, placing it on my chest. Sighing, I took the paper up, noting it was more rough than the stuff we had around. On it was a report in dwarven script, in the Common tongue. I read it once, my mouth going dry at the content, requiring me to sit up and drink before read it aloud.
"From X,
A council of nobles occurred in Starkhaven, as had been previously reported to be planned. The Prince declared it an alternative to the summit in the 'cursed valley', undoubtedly referring to Val Halla.
The topic of discussion was naturally the situation in the Marches. Almost every delegate present complained of a deteriorating situation in their lands, with agitators taking up the Libertarian cause at every turn. Our list of friends is growing. Nobles are buying up too much land of late, and tariffs are hitting the cities too hard.
The discontent was perceived as a crisis by all involved, and the nobles determined to unite, 'to see Troy for what it is, a foreign invasion, and face it thusly'.
Several solutions to their problem are planned. Mercenaries to be bought out wholesale. Taxes increased to pay for the same, and subsidies sought from Antiva and Nevarra. Conscription laws to be passed. Massacres of Libertarians and elves prepared.
Some reference was made to another measure by the Prince, but he refused to explain, knowing that it might destroy support among the lesser nobility if it was known. We cannot determine what it is.
I know this is serious, and you must act upon it, so I am pulling our agents and assets out of Starkhaven at once so you may warn our brothers and sisters elsewhere of the danger. Act fast."
War inched ever closer, to put it mildly.
"Do any of you want to bet against our dear Chancellor still refusing to go to war?" Julie smirked from the bed.
"That's not a bet anyone with sense would take," Mariette replied with amusement, "Though I hear she made you an interesting offer, Marquis."
"Anders' conviction for intervention on behalf of Kirkwall against Starkhaven," I confirmed, "Said that if we convict him, and the Starkhaven forces there don't leave, it'll prove Starkhaven are powerhungry landgrabbers. Or implied as much. Gives us the cover to strike at Prince Vael without starting a wider war, or starting it on our terms at the very least."
"If we wanted to start it on our terms, we'd march straight at Starkhaven after burning Ostwick and Hercinia to ashes, and sending the fleet to bombard Antiva," Tam said, with lip curled upwards in disdain, "The next war will begin on our terms regardless, unless something goes wrong entirely."
"Can't compromise the trial though," Julie sighed, "Not so obviously, anyway. No need to take up her offer."
"Sounds like the Marchers have learned a thing or two from Gaspard," I mused, "Mercenaries... Conscription laws... they plan to throw numbers at us, like he did."
"Pity for them we're better armed than we were against Gaspard," Julie yawned, stretching herself out on the bed and leaning on an elbow, "And Marchers aren't Orlesians. They don't have peasant serfdom. The nobles are not the Grey Wardens, they might have made their own nooses with that little idea about conscription. All we need to do is put the rope around their necks and let the freemen of the Marches decide."
"Exactly what I planned, Marquise," Mariette smiled, "I have already ordered dispatches to my many friends in the cities. Resistance to conscription is guaranteed."
"Resistance will help, but won't stop it," I said, "They'll be able to get many to agree to sign up anyway. Because we are a foreign invader. We weren't invited, and that matters, even though we're just taking land that no one had bothered to settle because of the difficulty."
"And we will crush them," Tam said, sitting down again, "The question is, what do we do with them then?"
"I would say we free them," Julie said, "But they think they already are."
"We can decide that after," I said, "In the mean time, I've got to decide if Anders is guilty."
"That isn't something you can determine in three days," Julie chuckled, "Not really. Just do your best, get through the trial. You might have been the best person to be the chief of the court, but you have more important work to do now."
"Indeed," Mariette said, "And consider the Chancellor's offer carefully. Taking one of Starkhaven's armies off the board early might be decisive. To my mind, Anders cannot be found innocent, for the simple reason that he openly admits his guilt. He is doomed anyway. Sacrifice him, like the pawn he is. A pawn of Justice, apparently, but a pawn nonetheless."
No surprise that the assassin-turned-spymaster was the one to make that suggestion, but I won't say it was entirely outside my thinking when the final verdict came down. But before that, we still had to hear the defence witnesses.
Another day of damned craziness.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Special mention to VisceralComa for the red lyrium theory on why Anders' explosion was so huge.
If I have made some lore hiccups, feel free to tell me; I haven't played DA2 in years, so I've been relying on YT clips and the wikia for the background on this.
Apologies on the lateness of this chapter, but it was a complete bitch to write. Rolling edits to happen as usual.