Chapter Sixty-Six: Foothold
The High-Chancellor pushed a vote on our intervention the day after the 'trial' ended. It was unanimously approved, every political faction having their own reasons to approve.
Julie and the Libertarians to go to war, Velarana and the Aequitarians to prevent a larger one.
Leha and the Lucrosians to make money, the Fishers and the Jaderites to make themselves relevant.
Even Aurelia and the Impera fraternity held a symbolic vote among themselves, in favour of course.
We dove into the extensive preparations at once, military and civil, as much to distract from the verdict as it was to actually get ready.
The thing about compromises is that you can usually tell they're successful if they annoy everyone. That is certainly an accurate description of what people thought about what I had to say regarding Anders' crimes. Those who wanted to see him acquitted were naturally not pleased, but those that wanted him found guilty were still pissed. They wanted 'guilty on all charges' or nothing.
Anders was never caught, and we quickly withdrew our troops from the borders, as it scared the shit out of our neighbours enough for them to send emissaries asking what the hell we were doing.
Mercifully, it seemed most of our citizens decided they didn't have a dog in the fight, whereas they very much did when it came to Kirkwall.
For those that don't know, Kirkwall was in those days ranked only with Ostwick, Starkhaven and Tantervale in terms of power and population, although it was not powerful for the same reasons that those cities were.
Starkhaven and Tantervale were both agricultural economies, centred as they were on the breadbasket of the north; the Greater Minanter Valley. They had buckets of flat, productive land. Needless to say, that made them as centralised and conservative as such economies often become.
The tyrants of Earth's Mesopotamia would recognise both the political and geographic terrain. Both cities were positively fanatical in their loyalty to the Chantry, before the Mage-Templar War broke out at any rate.
Ostwick had flat land, but also sat right on the main ocean trade routes into the Waking Sea. It preferred the middle road on most issues, valuing safety and prosperity over either zealotry or anarchy.
Kirkwall was the complete opposite of the former two cities. Nested where the mountains met the sea, it couldn't feed itself off its own land, though the fishing was highly productive.
It relied on trade, a situation created by a multitude of factors; its key position at the very middle of the Waking Sea, its proximity to the Planasene Forest's wood supply, its excellent natural harbour, and the fact both the Orlesians and Nevarrans had high import taxes for everyone except their own trade companies.
As you can imagine, those who didn't want to pay the Orlesian Empire for even being in its waters instead stopped at Kirkwall and sold their goods to the royal trading companies or the approved merchants.
The mix of isolation from the conservativism of their neighbours, the coming and going of people from literally everywhere, the lack of an agricultural aristocracy and the nature of merchant trade meant that Kirkwall of all cities was our natural ally.
The problem at that time was it was devastated and occupied.
The Chancellor's idea was simple. If we could undo those conditions, Kirkwall's advantages would reassert themselves and it would become powerful once again. A mix of gratitude, natural Libertarian inclination courtesy of the occupation, and a small Trojan garrison would keep them on our side.
Our dear Chancellor believed that Kirkwall could recover before our enemies could gather another army to stop it, tipping the balance very much in our favour. And seeing this, our enemies would hesitate, or even halt their own war plans.
As ideas go, it was a relatively good one, as long as Kirkwall was convinced that Starkhaven would never let it slide. Vael was not the Emperor of Orlais, even Starkhaven had limits on its power. The idea even had a natural redundancy built into it; even if our enemies were not dissuaded, we'd have one of the four big cities in our pocket.
So, the whole thing was a go. We also made extensive plans as to how we were going to get the Starkhaveners out of Kirkwall. But instead of describing them to you, I will instead show you them.
To put it as succinctly as possible, it was to be the first major battle initiated through an eluvian in history since the days of Elvhenan. Presumably, at least.
Ferventis 6 in the 2034th Year of the Tevinter Imperium.
June 6th, Year I of the Trojan Republic.
Justinian 6th, 9:40 Dragon.
No matter what dating system you use, it was an important day. In our own histories, it is the beginning of the War of the First Coalition, the first conflict of the Trojan Revolutionary War.
Others consider it the beginning of the Coryphean War, because we were arranged against the forces of the Chantry... and for another reason, which we will get to.
In the early morning of that day, I found myself standing in Fort Cheyenne, in the Crossroads. The most heavily fortified position in the entire Republic, and it didn't even exist on Thedas.
The thing about eluvians is that they're great for getting around quickly, but you never know who else might be moving around the Crossroads.
To demonstrate this point, the eluvian I was standing directly in front of was not one under our control. The Crossroads-end had been moved into our fort, sure, but the other end was somewhere in Kirkwall. Being moved to another somewhere, a somewhere with a nice commanding view of the harbour and the Gallows.
The owner of this particular little fadegate was none other that Merrill of the Sabrae.
When discussions about how to enter Kirkwall came up, she immediately suggested using eluvians. We said we didn't have an eluvian in Kirkwall, which was true because we bought and stole the other two that were there originally. She politely informed us that she had repaired another. With blood magic no less.
That the cheery, charming elf was a maleficar in the eyes of the Chantry was a great source of amusement to the High Command. But it didn't stop us liking her or working with her. She volunteered to go ahead with some of the officials that Bran had brought, and move the eluvian to a Hightown mansion that had been abandoned after Anders' attack.
Mariette and the OSS' special group had also went through to protect Merrill, and distract the Starkhavener garrison. It wasn't easy to move around the city, let alone lug an eight foot mirror around.
Which left us waiting for the signal to go.
"You know your presence is not going to be permanent?" said Bran, at his most high-handed, "The nobles agreed that you get Vael's thugs out, that you train and arm our troops, but you do not stay."
"Except in the embassy," I replied, not looking at the man, "That was the agreement."
"We didn't invite you to take Vael's place as our overlord," Bran continued, a little panicked, "I need you to understand that."
Increasingly annoyed by this line of conversation, I rubbed my eyes and gathered my thoughts about how to respond.
"You already said that to the Chancellor," I said after a little while, "You don't need to tell me."
"I think I do," Bran pressed, coming closer, "As far as I can tell, you are the real power here. Or a part of it anyway. Your wives are the richest woman, the most powerful mage and the Warden-Commander. The army follows you. You have money, military strength and political influence at your fingertips. And I need you to know that all of that will not stop us resisting you if you take Kirkwall from us."
Lord Almighty, I thought to myself, this man has lost his mind. Lost it under a blanket of fears.
"If you're that worried, you shouldn't have invited us in at all," I growled back at him, "You're right. If I want to take Kirkwall for myself, I will damn well do so and there won't be a thing you can do to stop me. And there's nothing I can do to stop you resisting. But there's no reason for me take Kirkwall."
"It's the most important port in the world," Bran countered, "Or it would be if the harbour wasn't full of rubble and crippled ships, but that is remediable. Especially for a people as inventive as yours."
He glanced at a cannon on top of one of the ramparts. Explosives would help with clearing Kirkwall's harbours, obviously.
"It's also huge, heavily populated and wanted by other realms," I retorted, "Better to have an alliance with you, than spend men, money and munitions on fighting you. I get it. You're terrified that you'll wake up one day and have no say. I'm sure that Vael promised you he'd leave after he was sure Anders wasn't in Kirkwall, a big fat lie. But I'm not Vael."
"We'll see," Bran said. He stormed off, towards his tent.
There was no day-night cycle in the Crossroads as far as I could tell, at least not in that part of it, but it was pretty early for most people to be up and about. I had said my goodbyes to Julie, Tam and Aurelia the night before for just that reason. They were less than two months off giving birth, ruining their sleep was something I insisted on avoiding.
After all, one baby could wake the dead with their cries. I thoroughly expected to have the sky fall on us all if all three got going. Let them sleep while we all could.
In place of the Acting-Viscount of Kirkwall, Armen wandered up beside me.
"Think we'll find Anders in Kirkwall?" he asked, in a bad mood. The result of the trial still burning his ass, as it had for far too long.
"Going to bitch that he escaped? Again?" I shot back, just as ill-tempered, "That Julie helped him? Give it a rest."
"She betrayed you," Armen said, "She betrayed the Republic."
"She did no such thing," I said, "But I'll let her defend herself. And I seem to recall you betraying me once. Yet you're still here." Armen was in no position to talk, he had helped Julie start the whole revolutionary movement behind my back.
"She said she wants democracy but then does something like this," the mage continued, repeating a point he had already made at least twice before, "Do you understand how dangerous that is?"
"The High-Chancellor told me, no, ordered me to find a man guilty," I replied, "You don't find that offensive to democracy? I think it's clear we need a lot more practice before we get it right, but until then, we have to survive. That'll mean compromises. Compromises you might not necessarily like."
"I just don't understand how you forgive her," Armen said, "Again and again and again. I never understood it."
The response of the young, perhaps. I rounded on him with a fury that boiled my blood.
"I am in love with her," I snarled, "She is mother to my child. I can't help that she is the woman that believed this world could be made better when no one else could, and was willing to make the hard choices to get it there. What do you expect me to do? Scream and shout? Beat her? Set her aside? Over what? Fucking the Baron when we weren't committed? Or is it the political betrayals that have crawled up your ass?"
Divorce, my brain chirped back. But the thought of leaving her was terrifying. For a jumbled mix of reasons, not all of them to do with my feelings for her.
"I just..." Armen started.
"Don't," I interrupted, pointing at him, "I've had enough of this talk. I'm angry with her, but there's no way I can express that which will satisfy anyone. You, me, her, whoever. No way I can do it without destroying everything I've built and everything I love. So I'm going to chew on it. I'm a man, god damn it. We deal."
"I'm sorry," Armen said at once, cowed. With no small degree of self-loathing. He knew he had stepped on that particular landmine and got lucky too many times before. I had been positively polite when the subject of Julie had come up previously. But now, I felt guilty for chewing him. Particularly as his reaction was not a sign that I was right about any of it.
"It's okay," I said, "Sometimes I forget how young you and Ciara are. Neither of you act your age, most of the time... until you run across something you don't have enough experience of, then it becomes obvious."
"I learn quickly," Armen said, "At least I have that."
"The lesson here isn't to not talk to me about these things," I said, "It's to speak with more... tact when you do. Looks like this has crawled up my ass too. Shouldn't take it out on you just because I can't take it out on Julie."
My friend nodded slightly, looking younger than I remembered. Something very schoolboyish about him at that moment.
"I'll remember that," Armen said, before pivoting, "How long do you think? Until the eluvian is in place?"
I looked at my watch. Courtesy of some almanacs, which were also a thing on Thedas, we knew when sunrise would be in Kirkwall down to the minute. And I had set my watch to the sunset the day before. It was a good few hours before that point, still dark both in Troy and Kirkwall; more than enough time to get into position. As long as we could deploy soon.
I was about to open my mouth to speak, when the eluvian flashed blue light at us. Merrill stepped through, followed shortly by Mariette. Both in combat gear, robes in the former case, a very tight, very flattering harlequin suit in dark blue for the latter.
"Marquis, the eluvian is in place," Mariette said, pulling off her mask to reveal a lupine smile, "And my operatives have the night patrols tied up in pretty ribbons."
There was a splash of blood across her thigh, I noticed all of a sudden. She must have been having fun. Though I had to wince on remembering her knife-shoe, glancing down at her feet to make sure she wasn't wearing one.
"Also, it's a cloudy night," Merrill said, pointing at the sky. Which made no sense, because we were in the Crossroads. "No stars, no moon. Not pretty at all! Normally, I would say you shouldn't go out at night alone... but you aren't alone, are you?"
Now it was my turn to slap on a wolfish smile.
"I most certainly am not," I said, "Armen, if you would be so kind to go back to Troy and tell the dragoon regiments to come through first. Mike and her people will have the honour of first blood for Valhalla."
My friend saluted, something he never did, before departing our part of the fortress for the main 'gateroom' that held the eluvians back to Troy. I watched his back as he went, nothing but the tapping of his staff and the low hum-woosh of the active eluvian behind me.
Mariette stepped up beside me, wiping her leg with a rag and accidentally bumping into me. I stepped away, and she sighed, handing the rag to Merrill. She was spinning on the spot, trying to reach back with the cloth; she had blood on her back. There was a strange mood in the air between the two women.
"She saved my life," Merrill said, seeing my look of puzzlement, "I was leading the way to my home, and a guard cut in between us from an alley. I'll change. This is filthy."
The Dalish mage rushed off back through the eluvian to Kirkwall, muttering to herself.
"He had spotted her while taking a piss," Mariette replied dourly in Orlesian, "He span as I cut his throat, sprayed everywhere." She wasn't in the mood to be lady-like, obviously.
"See, that's why I prefer to do my killing from a distance," I half-joked back, "Less messy, more civilised."
"You have a strange definition of civilisation," Marriete said, returning to the Common tongue, "Did you have an argument with Monsieur Cartier? He wasn't grinning."
I sniffed, the air in the Crossroads always seeming stuffy, as if it was too humid. Or maybe I was just uncomfortable in a place I felt could cease to exist due to my prolonged presence. Not that there was any evidence that I could 'annul' the magic keeping it.
She was right of course. He had not been grinning.
"Noticed that, did you?" I said reluctantly, "It was over the trial. He still blames Julie."
"Anders is tricky like that," Merrill nodded rapidly, "He tricked all the Templars in Kirkwall, and the gangs in Darktown, and the Coterie. They don't get tricked easily. It's not anyone's fault."
"Well, it perhaps worked to our advantage," Mariette said with a wave of the hand, "Given what is happening across the Marches, I think pretending that executing him would have helped us is nonsense. Not when the people find out what has been going on."
"The Marches being on the verge of civil war doesn't concern our Chancellor," I said, "I'm sure she welcomed it, means the Marchers can't fight us for at least another year."
Mariette raised a golden eyebrow. "Do you not read the reports I put on your desk?" she asked, "From our assets?"
Annoyed a little that I didn't have time for doing just that, I shook my head.
"Between the trial and organising this little vacation, I don't have time," I admitted, "I can't read those chicken scratchings quickly enough anyway. Why can't you teach our assets to write in damn Latin letters?"
Mariette snorted an aristocratic snort. "They're not Trojans, Marquis, they're rogues," she responded, "No way I am teaching them to read our documents. The smarter ones will be able to figure it out themselves, but it'll take them time."
No reason to help people we barely trusted gain information. After all, the entire Earth library was in Latin script.
"So what is in those reports?" I asked, "What's not important enough to tell me?"
Mariette bit her lip and looked away, and it was my turn to cock an eyebrow.
"I thought you read them," she said, back in Orlesian, "Sorry, I should've told you."
"Told me what?"
Mariette de Villars looked me dead in the eye.
"The civil war has already begun," she continued, "The Marchers are tearing themselves apart, and it will not take them a year to put down the insurrections. My contacts think that it'll all be over by the end of summer at the latest."
A cold chill came over me like a blanket soaked in ice water.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" I half-whispered.
"I thought you knew," Mariette replied quickly, "You started preparations for a long campaign the day after I gave you the first reports."
Which reminded me that we weren't entirely up shit creek. Julie and Leha's factories were churning out weapons and equipment like no tomorrow, and no small number of other enterprising individuals had got together to provide other materials of war. I took a breath.
"Tell me now, what exactly is happening out there?" I asked quickly, "Briefly."
Mariette shifted her weight, summoning the requisite knowledge from her mind.
"Race riots in Wycome and Ansburg. Starkhaven and Tantervale are under curfews. Ostwick is jailing Libertarians. The University of Markham and the city itself have both called up their militias, and fighting between the two is expected to start in days. Mercenaries are being bought up wholesale across the region, for both sides."
There was little need to elaborate further. Civil war was the appropriate moniker for the situation. No doubt people would be fleeing to the closest 'safe' place, which would likely be Markham if I knew anything. The students were all 'spare' children of nobles and heirs of a certain type of merchant, and thus were likely diehard Libertarians.
I mapped out the locations in my mind, placing each city and what was going on. Something was missing.
"Hercinia," I asked, "What's happening in Hercinia?"
"I don't know," Mariette frowned, "Our asset there hasn't replied. Doesn't mean she won't, just that she has been delayed. I've sent someone to check discreetly, we'll know soon."
I cursed loudly and deeply.
Valhalla was most exposed to attack from the direction of Hercinia, the Alba river being the only real obstacle and not a very impressive one at that. Only reason the whole valley wasn't in the hands of that city was that it did not actually have a real government. Robber barons and pirates don't get along well enough to permanently conquer anything.
"We're going to have to change up," I said, "Kirkwall must not have a choice. We're changing the deal."
"How?" Mariette asked, "And without the Chancellor's approval? What about the Marquise?"
"To hell wit..." I started, before my brain seized my tongue. Not out of any sense of propriety about insulting my civilian leader, but because I had remembered something:
I had seen Julie reading the reports on my desk many times.
My mind span, pieces falling into place. I stepped around in a circle, around Mariette, absorbed by sort of eureka moment. I looked up into the sky, like the answers were falling down onto me.
Julie knew it was all was happening. She didn't tell me. She couldn't until after the deed was done. She knew how I would react to hearing the news. She knew I wouldn't tolerate the Chancellor sitting on ass while all this was happening.
So Julie engineered a situation where there was no choice but to convict Anders; his escape.
That would allow our intervention in Kirkwall and get the war started whether the Chancellor liked it or not, because her gamble that it would lead to a longer peace was a bad bet in Julie's mind.
And why? Because the greatest threat to our democracy wasn't Julie, or Chancellor Velarana, or our enemies. Only the last could have overthrown the Republic, and even then, the price would have been enormous.
It was me. I was the threat.
I had the loyalty of the Peacekeepers, the finances of Julie herself and the respect of the people. Only I could have ended our democracy while keeping our society together. Bran had just explained as much, and he didn't strike me as someone who indulged in political fantasy.
If I said 'we must go to war to save these people' and Velarana said no, the Republic would fall at once. Julie was exactly right. There is no way I would tolerate such a refusal.
It even fit with Julie's nature and values. She manipulated us all, but she did so to save our country from me. It had cost her, but not as much as it would have if she had to choose between her ideals and me.
Frankly, I was impressed. She was getting better at the Game.
So, the objective was to assure the war did come. So that she wouldn't have to make that choice, and I wouldn't have to make it either.
I completed my thought process, just as the sound of marching boots began to fill my ears. I stopped circling Mariette, who was smiling widely at the whole affair, probably thinking I was crazy, and looked down from the sky.
Mike was approaching from the central area, her troops behind her. Firelancers, carrying artillery shells and powder kegs, in addition to their own gear. The cannon that would use them would come through last.
"General," I called to her, "Change in the rules of engagement."
"My lord?" Mike replied inquisitively, giving me the proper salute as she stood before me.
Time for another compromise. A compromise forced on me by the damned backwards-ass time I had been dropped into.
"Your troops may fire at will on any hostile target that presents themselves," I said, "No quarter is to be given either. We don't want these people coming back to fight us another day and I've just been given information that suggests they would if left alive."
Mike gave a small smile of satisfaction. Her job had just been made a lot easier. Less of ours would die trying to get the Starkhaveners to surrender.
"But make sure you don't shoot the locals," I said, "There will be harsh punishments for any soldier that harms civilians or the City Guard in any way."
"Yes, Marquis!" Mike said, at top volume.
The troops filed by in a great rush and through the eluvian, the veterans going in first with Mike. They carried no supplies, only grim faces and their weapons. The other side of the eluvian was dark except for candlelight, which even the Crossroads were brighter than by a large degree.
A runner returned to inform us that the foothold was secure, and the rest of the troops moved out and got through with remarkable speed. A testament to their training. It had been Mike herself that had suggested drilling our troops in eluvian entry. Even still, we were talking about moving three thousand troops through a doorway that could only fit one person or horse through at a time.
Still, it was perfectly coordinated and only took us an hour. Faster than we expected the second wave to go, no matter how well coordinated, but they were carrying a lot more weight.
Mike, Mariette and I went through last, on account of me destabilising the eluvian portal every time I passed through one.
Rather than letting my eyes adjust to the gloom beyond, which got a whole lot gloomier when the blue glow of the eluvian flickered and died, I turned on the flashlight attached to my helmet and weapon immediately. A quick sweep of the area revealed exactly what was expected; a large mansion hall, complete with high ceiling, ornate dressing and fine carpets.
The hall opened to the outside through a series of great windows, looking out over the harbour. I went to look, as the activity around me continued. It was called Hightown for a reason; we were at least five hundred feet higher than the rest of the city, though there was a slope.
The clouded moonlight reflected off the dark water, letting me see the shapes of both ships and rubble in the water, the darker shape of the Gallows interrupting the slight yellow-white sheen. Here and there, there were also lights, leaking from fireplaces out of window arches. And in other places, a baleful red glow. The reports of red lyrium contamination were well founded.
Merrill came to greet us, along with Aveline Vallen, dressed for battle in mail. I caught their movement in the corner of my eye, and on seeing who it was, went over to them.
"Captain," I said respectfully to Vallen, "Happy with everything so far?"
"I won't be happy until Vael's little pricks are out of Kirkwall," Aveline replied, "And with all due respect, I probably won't be happy then either."
"Not until we're gone too," Mariette said, speaking aloud the implication that the guard-captain was making, "Even though we'll be keeping this shabby little mansion as our embassy." Shabby by Orlesian standards, anyway.
Aveline merely grunted a positive response before getting to the task at hand.
"Are you going to tell us your plan?" she said, "The whole thing?"
"Operational security," I replied with a shake of the head, "We haven't had time to vet your people, and it wouldn't surprise me if Starkhaven had people on their payroll. You do your part, namely staying in barracks until each sector is cleared."
"I'm going with you," Aveline responded, brooking no argument on that point.
"Oh, me too!" Merrill added.
"I would not recommend it," Mariette said coolly, "There is no glory to be had in the coming fighting."
"I'm not chasing glory," Aveline said, "I'm watching you." And not for her entertainment either, given the tone.
Mike took a step forward, not a very threatening gesture to someone who didn't know her but a clear signal of intent to the rest of us who did. She opened her mouth to boom out a rejection. I caught her by the shoulder just in time, having to reach over a bit to do it.
"You're welcome to come," I said. She couldn't have stopped our plans even if she wanted. There was no harm in it. The Guard-Captain made no reply, verbal or otherwise, she just waited to follow. I was about to make a snarky comment about it, but a runner came up. He flicked his eyes between Mike and I, wondering who to report to.
I gestured to Mike, and the man finally opened his mouth. "Tenth and Eleventh regiments have taken up their positions. The Twelfth has entered the Viscount's Keep. There has been no resistance. The Starkhaveners surrendered."
"Just as planned," I said, "How many Starkhaveners?"
"A platoon," the runner replied.
"That's fewer than were supposed to be guarding the palace," Mariette said, turning to me.
"The Acting-Viscount has been out of the city for weeks," Aveline cut in, "They don't have anything to guard but an empty building. Most of Hightown would be abandoned, if the nobles didn't fear the looting of their mansions and warehouses. They're collaborating with the occupation only by necessity."
"Which is entirely the reason we are here," I said, before turning to Mike, "Send a message to the artillery group to make their entrance. I'll be joining the OSS group and the Twelfth, pushing for the docks. I have complete confidence you'll be able to keep things in hand, until the signal."
"Yes, my lord!" Mike boomed with a salute, her volume hurting my ears a little. Living up to her nickname.
Leaving the general to her job, Mariette and I strode through the halls, led to the exit by the runner. The two Kirkwallers followed behind, Merrill chirping away about something I forget today. Who used to own the estate, maybe. Bertrand or some such. We got out into the public streets of Hightown in no time at all.
The architecture was blocky, but not inelegant. A sort of mix of Tevinter, Orlesian and Dwarven styles of construction; grey limestone buildings and wide pavestoned streets, awnings stretching out over balconies, many windows but most of them being too thin for an adult to climb through.
It seems the nobles and merchants rich enough to live there were curious as to what was going on, as they huddled around doorways, talking to neighbours. They probably had known we were coming. But they likely didn't know we would appear by magic at the heights. Which was the whole point.
Outside were waiting some people in hoods and plainclothes. You could tell they were OSS operatives by virtue of the firelances in their hands and the bandoliers over their shoulders alone. Their eyes and gait was predatory too. A few were kitted out just as Mariette was, and the woman herself joined that group, putting her harlequin mask back on over her face.
"This way, Marquis."
The harlequins led the way, through the streets. The city didn't seem to have a coherent plan, the path twisting and turning this way and that, though all the buildings remained blocky. The hill we were on was not the most even, I decided, and thanked our lucky stars we were descending rather than ascending.
A feeling that got a whole lot bigger when I saw the stairway we had to go down when we reached the steep part of the slope. Hundreds of steps, the incline so sharp that the path had to wind down back on itself again and again, almost like a stairwell on Earth.
I felt the blood drain from my face on first seeing it; we were very lucky to have eluvians. Storming that would have been worse than Thermopylae for the Persians, or worse than Second Alba for the Qunari. They were wide enough for two carts to pass each other, but in battlespace terms, that's tiny.
It was little wonder that other powers hadn't turned their attention to the city sooner. Starkhaven was probably the only ones that could have done it: they could approach via the mountain passes to the north, after all. Anyone else would have to come by sea.
At the bottom of the steps, five hundred feet below, I could see a battle in progress, if you can call an utter rout a battle. Firelancers were shooting at retreating swordsmen, skirmishing with a far fewer number than their own. The Starkhaveners were running for the docks. No surprise there.
"Why do I get the feeling I'll be climbing these again later?" I joked to Mariette as we began the descent.
"Don't worry," Merrill said, "You can use the steps that go over Darktown. They're easier."
"Great" I said, wondering who the hell was doing the naming of these areas. Already I was planning to have the eluvian brought down instead of my ass having to trudge up that number of steps.
We reached the bottom after some time, too much time for my liking. The battle was long over, and the dragoons that had been laying the hurt on the city's occupiers were now dragging the corpses to the side and looting the swords, more as souvenirs than for use.
There was a lot of blood on the ground, which is what happens when lead slugs hit people at 400 metres per second. You can take arms and legs off with ease, and the heart of the victim does its gentle best to pump the rest of the blood out as quickly as it can. It was slippy, I remember. Not a pleasant experience.
Two or three more OSS people emerged from the crowd of two to three hundred dragoons, all firelancers. With them was the commander of the dragon battalion. They approached Mariette and reported.
"They were guarding the stairwell," said one operative, her face covered by a cloth scarf as far as the nose but not her pointed ears, "The first salvo hit them hard."
"I can imagine," Mariette said, her masked face turning towards the line of dead, "No doubt the same thing is happening at every stairway."
"As ambushes go, this one was bad," I agreed, "For them. Couldn't be more textbook for us."
"You trained us well, Lord Marquis," the operative replied, with a salute.
I looked around, getting a feel for the docklands. The feel of it was just the same as Hightown, all stone construction. The style was even the same. The difference was that these buildings were crumbling, repaired repeatedly simply to remain standing or just using a standing wall with three wooden ones to make a new building entirely. Which offered little comfort.
"A thousand places to shoot at us from," I thought aloud, "Like fucking Baghdad. But worse. The buildings are taller." The city must have been a great hub of commerce at its height under Tevinter, even if the commerce was in slaves.
"There won't be anyone in them if we hurry," Mariette said, "The sun is coming up."
Indeed it was, the sky was turning a lighter shade of blue. I nodded, and waved over the leader of the dragoons.
"Full advance," I said, pointing the way, "Straight to the piers. I don't expect resistance, but... If we get shot at from the buildings, you're to detach a squad to clear each one while the column continues moving forwards. Clear?"
"Like vodka, sir," replied the lieutenant-colonel, a smile on his face causing me to smile back. Orders were barked, the whole battalion formed up in column-of-battle, shoulder to shoulder, weapons to hand but held upwards, bayonets fixed. The flagbearer holding our tricolour joined us at the rear, while the lieutenant-colonel went to the second rank up front.
"MARCHE RAPIDE ! AVANÇONS!"
The column moved at pace, not quite a run or jog, but too fast to be described as a walk. The drum made the pace, the slapping of boots on stone perfectly choreographed with each beat. I kept up just fine, but Mariette, having never been in the infantry, had to jog every now and then.
The air grew cooler and a breeze took up as we got closer and closer to the water. Over the blades of the bayonets ahead of me, I could see the masts of ships through the gaps in the buildings. Even then, occupation or no occupation, commerce continued for the benefit of Starkhaven.
A ripple of musketry sounded off to our left, from the direction of Lowtown. Two seconds later, another, closer, from the far end of the Docks. Contact with the enemy. If it was happening down the line of advance, it would come soon for us.
"Column halt!" I called at the top of my voice.
The troops took only two more steps before coming to a complete stop, the outer ranks turning to the outside to watch the windows and doors. They dressed the lines to keep formation. The training had really been paying dividends.
I went to the front by the right, Mariette and the Kirkwallers in tow, the crackling of another fusillade in the air.
"Orders, Marquis?" asked the lieutenant-colonel.
"Put Company A and B in the warehouses," I commanded, "Put your colours and Company C to line of battle across that last intersection." I thumbed over my shoulder to the place I was talking about.
"Yes, my lord!"
In seconds, our boys and girls were battering down the warehouse doors to either side of the street, or moving back a little ways to the broad crossroad. Shutters were opened wide on the second floors, the doors swung closed behind the troops once all were inside. Which left just us in the middle of the street.
None of my troops questioned the fact that we four were stranded out in the firing line, but our Kirkwaller hosts were not so quiet, especially as they watched the line of battle forming behind us in three ranks, the first kneeling so the second and third could fire over their heads.
"Shouldn't we get to a more... safe location?" Aveline asked.
As if to emphasize the problem, it was that moment the Starkhaveners picked to show up. They came around the corner of a big building I assumed to be a customs house, the morning sun lighting up the pure-white paint on their armour. They were armed primarily with swords and crossbows, lacking shields. I have to admit being impressed by the skill of their armourers, they were as well kitted out as the retainers of Orlesian chevaliers had been. Not that it would save them.
I smirked at Aveline, and put on my most melodramatic voice.
"Oh shit!" I shouted in Common, "They're here! Run!"
And with that piece of shit stage theatre complete, I broke off at a run towards Company C. I must have done a convincing enough job, because even some of my own troops believed me, standing to run and kept in line only by those beside them with a little more sense. Merrill soon flashed up beside me, a Fade step letting her catch up.
By the time I turned around to see the result of my deception, Aveline and Mariette were almost with us... and the Starkhaveners had taken the bait. They were rushing forward without want or reason to the attack, perhaps believing it was the only chance they had. A white serpent of soldiers, if you can call them that, coming at us with the intention to bite with fangs made of swords and halberds. It made sense, in its way.
At a distance, we were gods of war. Up close, just men and women, albeit with silverite blades.
But they had to close the distance to make the difference. And I wasn't going to let them.
"Compagnie C! Presentez vos armes!" I barked, taking command personally.
The troops took aim down the street, the cocking of a hundred flints at once echoing around, the barrels of the firelances aimed into the lessening gloom of dawn and at the mass charging at them. Ever closer. The attached Libertarian mages waved their staves and the magical barriers enveloped everyone, proof against the first few blows of sword or bolt.
"En joue! FEU!" I ordered.
The dragoons fired, smoke and bullets flying out in a single massed volley. There was the briefest whistling, then pings and thumps, and finally, the cries of the dying. The smoke cleared quickly in the breeze, revealing the effect. Piles of shivering or still meat in metal, their white armour splashed red. The front of the enemy charge had been shattered, but they kept on coming, slowed by their dead, determined to make it. Almost made you regret having to kill them.
Which was when the two companies holed up in the buildings opened up from both sides. Not in a single wave, but well placed, deliberate shots at individual targets. Instead of shattering, the Starkhaveners, stumbling over the corpses of their fellows, were picked off one by one. No great tumble.
A half dozen almost made it to our lines, somehow not catching lead the entire run. Some of the front rank stood up to use their melee weapons, but it was unnecessary.
I shot the enemy down with a burst a piece, emptying the magazine of my weapon in the process. The last one only got a single bullet but going down nonetheless. I did it without so much as a thought, and in my strange state of mind, thought it was odd that I had done so. Something had changed.
The sight of that and the lack of hope of getting into contact, as the next volley of Company C thundered into them, the Starkhaveners broke and fled. I suppose it was accurate to call them soldiers after all; they ran with their swords, not discarding them to gain speed or signal that they weren't a threat any more. The peasant levies of Gaspard hadn't been so dignified.
The threat of them coming back for another go therefore seemed certain, to my mind.
I ordered the troops to follow up at once, to secure the other end of the street and get into the customs house ahead, an order they followed with enough gusto that some of them slipped in the blood they had spilled while attempting to run through it. In the orange light of the dawn, it just looked like tar or ink in the light grey dirt.
There were no survivors. Follow-up shots from the windows above had seen to that.
I winced away from it, turning to the Kirkwallers as I reloaded my weapon. They were both white as sheets, unused to that sort of slaughter.
"Welcome to a real war," I said, "Try not to look so horrified. All the bloodshed is for your freedom. Get used to the idea. You'll need to spill more to keep it. And you'll need to spill it yourselves."
Aveline was the first to recover enough to speak.
"And your world..." she said, "The fighting is like this?"
"No, not really," I said, "Not any more. You have to go back a couple of hundred years to have seen something like this. What it's like now would be hard to describe. In theory, the people of Earth are living in the most peaceful time in history, but..."
I shook my head. "It doesn't matter," I said, "Let's go." I began down the street, waving for the the other two companies to get out of the warehouses, ready to pick my way past the dead. Mariette followed, but our hosts did not.
I will refrain from sharing what I saw and felt as I passed the dead.
We made it to the customs' house in no time, and eventually, the quays themselves. The sounds of shooting rang out in the morning air up and down the entire waterline, and it was no mystery why.
Through the gaps in the ships, you could see the Starkhaveners fleeing by water, on at least a hundred little boats and barges, paddling rapidly with anything they could use, halberds included. They were departing from all parts of Lowtown that I could see. It was no panicked rout, it was an orderly retreat to the Gallows, the ancient Tevinter slaver-fortress just beyond the city.
The person who made the decision, whoever it had been, was no fool.
You didn't need to hold Hightown or the slums to hold Kirkwall. Kirkwall was its harbour, and the Gallows sat right in the middle of it.
As long as it held, we couldn't use the place for trade, but its defenders could be easily resupplied. It was fine logic, filled with the military certainties that had prevailed before my arrival. It was also out of date precisely because I had arrived.
Our people were on the docked ships or at the piers, shooting at the closest boats, trying to remove a few more pieces from the board before they got out of reach. They weren't having much success.
"They ran away too easily," Mariette said, "Something is wrong."
Surprised she didn't see the reasoning behind the move, I shrugged. "They think they can hold the fort," I explained, "They think the walls are tough enough to take cannonfire. They have seen Qunari cannons before, maybe they think we use something similar."
"Maybe..." Mariette said, "Or they have another plan."
"Nothing that can save them," I said with complete assurance, and not a little malice, "Let's get everyone to stop shooting, and move to the next stage."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Today is Outlander's 4th birthday.
Thank you to all who have read this far, and I hope to be posting enjoyable stuff for at least four years more.
Splitting up this chapter, here's the first part.
Enjoy!