Chapter Ninety-Two: Friends in High Places
My memories of what happened next are a haze, proof of just how tired I was, and without constant danger to sharpen it, my mind just did not seize on the details. I do recall the broad strokes.
Alexius surrendered to us immediately.
He did not even give us a real chance to kill him. Our return to Redcliffe Castle in the correct time, a mere second after he had sent us time travelling like Marty McFly sent him flying back. Almost into the fireplace he had been standing at when we first entered the room. He dropped the amulet in the process, and before he could so much as rub his head, Tam was on him.
He was so meek and said nothing, despite her threats, that we no longer had the energy to deal with him as we might have otherwise.
Simply killing him wasn't enough at this point. We had already done that in another timeline, for a start. For another, the man had intel we needed. And Tam had plans to roll him through the meatgrinder of a full public trial, followed hopefully by his execution. We had a new judicial system to test, after all, one greatly improved from the makeshift crap we had to pull to put Anders on trial.
Lastly, we had two very seriously ill people with us that needed attending to.
Luckily for us, Grand-Enchanter Fiona was still around and joined us at once to help stabilise Tethras. She was an exceptional healer. She could do nothing about the effects of the red lyrium he had been exposed to, but his leg needed desperate attention. He would keep it only after Aurelia performed her blood cleansing magic.
Sister Nightingale immediately collapsed, the exertions she had pushed herself through now no longer necessary. She was barely conscious, and Aurelia worked her blood magic on her too, in an attempt to try and stabilise her. It worked, but there was not a huge amount of time.
We got out of Redcliffe Castle, praying to God that we had not stepped out into a significantly different world. A few questions to Fiona did not reveal anything different. Everyone one was still very much where they had been when we had left; the Foreign Legion and the artillery were still all over Redcliffe itself, the soldiers we had left at the main gates were still awaiting us, a non-ghoul Felix was there waiting on the fate of his father.
It seemed we had not altered history with our interactions with the Hero of Ferelden enough to destroy everything we had worked for, though we would later learn that history had indeed been changed.
In the mean time, we were ready to go to sleep for a thousand years.
With Alistair and the Ferelden Royal Army approaching, we decided to make ourselves scarce. Marcus volunteered to stay to talk to the King, relieving us of the burden to the diplomacy to come. Aurelia deputised him as vice-governor of the Far-Southern Provinces, and Fiona agreed to help him explain as a star witness.
We left Alexius with him too, as he was our excuse for being in Ferelden in the first place, and went back to Troy by eluvian. Dorian stayed to help show the Tevinter flag, which we were a little sad about as we all now considered him a friend.
On returning to our city, we put Nightingale and Tethras into the hands of the very capable hands of the Hospitallers and split up to get some sleep in our own beds for the first time in a month, though to the rest of the world, it had only seemed like hours.
I saw the kids with their mothers, using the last of our energy to gather them up in the big living room in our quarters at the Mont de Mars, smothering them with love so much that it startled them a bit. Kisses and tickles and hugs all around.
But that did not last long, as our fatigue cut us down and we all ended up sleeping across couches and beds like we had been hit with sleeping gas in the middle of a drinking party.
Everyone left us alone until the afternoon of the next day. Velarana woke us up to inform us that Alistair and Anora had demanded the immediate withdrawal of all Tevinter forces. With Alexius captured, the Foreign Legion had no reason to be in their realm.
Aurelia dragged herself off a couch and fought through her grogginess to carry out our plan; she ordered Marcus and the Legion to retreat not through the eluvians, but up the Imperial Highway along the west coast of Calenhad and north to Gherlen's Pass. The idea being to divert to Haven mid-route.
Alistair was not an idiot though, the Royal Army shadowed the Foreign Legion every step of the way. Marcus tried to force-march the Legion on the last stretch, to get to the road to Haven before the Fereldans could catch up, but Teagan wasn't an idiot either. On seeing our troops gone, he led the Fereldan cavalry force to keep on the Legion's ass, and the plan to get away failed.
With the Legion forced to camp at the junction, unable to advance in any direction except out of Ferelden without giving battle, Dorian came up with a new plan. He would go to Haven to inform the Inquisition of our new, far more friendly attitude to them, while Marcus pretended that the Legion had to stop marching for a couple of days with some excuse.
The Fereldans were not happy to see that the exit of our forces had stopped, but did not offer battle themselves. The mask of the Tevinter Imperium that we had used to disguise our activities was an obvious ruse, but not one Alistair and Anora wanted to test if they could help it. The bulk of the Army might have been firelancers, and so clearly Trojan, there were a lot of classic Tevinter mage-soldiers around too.
With all that going on, we debriefed Nightingale, who told Mariette a great deal about the Elder One, and Fiona, who gave us some information on where the Venatori may have taken the mages they conscripted but not much.
Every revelation brought fresh reasons to support the Inquisition. Aside from the demon army and the size of the Venatori force, which was bad enough, the assassination of Celene and the disappearance of Gaspard, the disunity of the realms, rumours that Tevinter had joined this Elder One... the alternative future was one we needed to avoid like the plague.
Just before Dorian rode out from the camp of the Foreign Legion, Tam informed the Assembly that the funding to the Inquisition should be tripled immediately at the next month's delivery and that a formal offer of alliance should be dispatched to Ambassador Montilyet as soon as the vote on that measure could be had.
The Coryphean War had truly begun, though it was not yet called that.
The first indication that it actually was a war came to me while I was relaxing in bed, a little more than a week after we returned to Troy.
Roxane was laying on her side on top of me, sleeping, while I drifted in and out of consciousness myself. Helen was in her basket off to the side, also sleeping. Mark had been taken by his Tevinter relatives less than an hour before, and was no doubt being spoiled as rotten as an infant can be.
I had found myself in a strange situation; since I had relinquished my position as Commanding-General of the Army, and since Alistair's presence stopped me from commanding my own troops in Ferelden, I had little to do.
I could have read the extensive intel that Nightingale was producing. She had taken the Joining the day before and survived, and was feeling far better now. Even the pockmarks on her face seemed to heal, mostly. That sort of thing made for depressing reading though. I suppose I also could have joined Soprano in the field, overseeing our continuing fight against the demons in the Marches, but she had it handled.
In the end, I did two things; securing all the things that we had sent back from Bizarro-Boston and spending time with my kids.
You see, the bed in question I was laying on was not the one in our quarters on the Mont de Mars, but in the hotel that had been teleported to a hill north of our city. Everything was fully intact, and the large supports that had originally kept the building out of Boston Harbour now kept it level on the hillside.
It was a useful addition, as it prevented anyone from trying to drag me into some military or political matter better handled by Soprano or Velarana. My distance from the city was good for our democracy, in that respect. Of course, I was still accessible by eluvian, but only two guards and my companions knew that.
I was about to drift off into slumber once again, when Roxane shifted her little body, keeping me awake. A little more aware of my surroundings, I noticed why my daughter had moved; Julie had just walked in.
"Here you are," she said quietly, laying down on the bed beside me and kissing Roxane on the forehead.
"Here we are," I agreed, equally as quietly, "You're back early." Unlike Tam or I, Julie was a restless person by nature and had spent much of her time down at the Mithril factories.
Her exit from formal politics had shifted her attentions into invention, engineering and building her business. Velarana had completely repaid the money that the Republic had 'borrowed' from us, via the Antivan war indemnity, so Julie no longer had the puppet strings of state debt to pull on either, though she had ways around that.
"Velarana told me to find you," Julie sighed, letting Roxane grab a thumb with her little hand, "Bad news."
"Here I thought things were starting to look up," I said sarcastically, "At least tell me that it isn't Celene or the demon army."
"Neither, thankfully," Julie replied, "I'll start from the beginning. The Breach closed yesterday, it wasn't visible in the sky last night."
Annoyed that I had missed that piece of news, I grumbled to myself. Disappearing to avoid contact with people did put you out of the loop.
"But that's good news, isn't it?" I asked, hopefully, "Trevelyan must have done something right, gathering all those Templars. Are the hellgates closed?" I assumed that because the main rift was now closed that the others would go away on their own.
"No, they're all still open," Julie sighed, "But that's the problem. They closed the Breach... and no one has heard anything from Haven since. Alistair was in contact with them direct by raven daily, keeping them informed about our troops. He didn't get a response last night, and this morning, the raven sent came back on its own."
That could not be good. "Dorian?" I asked, "Any word from him?"
Julie shook her head. "None," she said, "It was the first thing Alistair asked Marcus, if he had any news from Haven either. The Fereldans have sent fast riders to see what has happened."
After all Dorian had done for us, this was very bad news. Trevelyan was the only one who could close the hellgates forever with any ease at all, and Aurelia still could not do it with any lasting permanence. The disappearance of the Herald of Andraste was one of the key factors of how the alternate timeline had fallen to the Elder One too, according to Nightingale.
"We need to find out what happened," I said, "We owe Dorian our lives. But the Fereldans..."
"That's why the Chancellor sent me," Julie said, treating the word Chancellor like it was dirty, "She has ordered you to bring the Highlanders to join the Foreign Legion and find Trevelyan." Find her in Ferelden, to be exact.
I cocked an eyebrow. "I have to say I like those orders. Who wants hellgates around forever?" I said, "But isn't this risking war?" Exactly the thing Velarana always said she was against, at least if it can be avoided.
"She's also ordering you to bring the Minister of Foreign Affairs to tell Alistair what you're doing and why," Julie yawned, before half-giggling, "The plan is to soften the blow with some aid concessions. Apparently she doesn't trust your diplomatic skills."
Now I joined with chuckles of my own, which Roxane complained about with a loud gurgle. She preferred the sound of my voice from my chest, rather than being bumped up and down by my laughs. "Hell, I don't trust my diplomatic skills," I said, "At least when I can't shell the shit out of the other party. Who is the Minister of Foreign Affairs these days?"
"Adam Valle," Julie yawned, "The original leader of the Lucrosian mages. Good news for us." Needless to say, a man motivated by profit and loss just as much as Leha and Julie themselves, definitely an ally. And as a Circle mage trying to make money from his gilded cage, someone for whom negotiation was a way of life.
"At least I can thank the Chancellor for the small mercies," I said, carefully lifting Roxane off of me so I could dress for the job, "But a longer vacation than this would've been nice."
By late afternoon, I found myself in camp at the banks of Lake Calenhad with the foothills of the Frostbacks looming large, autumn rain lashing down from the sky as I exited the eluvian. Never was I more glad for a real coat, one with a hood big enough that it even fit over the top of my Earth helmet.
With me, streaming out of another dozen eluvians, were the rest of my brigade. The Avvars were returning to their homeland, under the flag of Troy. In doing so, my military command was once again reunited and the non-Orlesian forces of the Republic once again awaited my orders. Despite the shit weather and the circumstances, it felt as natural as slipping into old boots.
My bitching about not getting enough vacation notwithstanding.
Nursing a hot and sweet coffee as I watched, I directed the companies coming through to their various sectors via a collection of runners hanging around me like a cloud, ready to intercept the captains as they came through. The camp was going to grow two hundred percent to accommodate the troops, horses and artillery. A little bit away, a page was holding on to Bellona's reins, ready to throw them to me if I needed to mount up.
There was one proviso to the whole thing.
The eluvian I had used flared to life once more, and out stepped the civilian delegation. Minister Valle led the way through, tugging on his short brown-and-grey beard. His robes' hood was up, but despite that, he threw up a magical barrier around him immediately, protecting him from the wind and rain. Put him in a suit instead, and he would've made a fair approximation of any classic middle manager or corporate salesman in America.
Behind him came at least twenty people, half of them Lucrosian mages based on their own robes' designs. The man had brought most of the Department of Foreign Affairs along with him. After the personnel came horses, appropriately liveried.
I stared, hardly believing the sight. There were far more people than were needed.
I marched over. "Minister, welcome to Ferelden," I said flatly, "Sorry about the weather, but we didn't have time to arrange a nice warm summer afternoon for you."
Valle smiled and took my offered hand, gripping it firmly and giving it only a single shake. "General, it has been too long," he said with excessive pleasantness, "Or do you prefer Emperor?"
I blanched, wondering if he was serious. "Not an Emperor any more," I said, "And General is at least a title I actually earned."
Valle tilted his head, as if looking at me with only one eye. "Ah General, but you did earn the other title," he said, "I was there, remember? When you revealed to the world that you were the real power behind our fair Republic." He was referring to my successful coup.
I frowned. "Hopefully that isn't the case any more," I said, eager to change the subject, "What's with the crowd? You having a party."
Valle put both his hands behind his back and straightened up. "We have an incredible opportunity here," he said, "The Fereldans have rebuffed all real diplomacy, but now we have leverage."
Confused, I thought about what the hell he meant by that for a moment. "The Army?" I asked.
Valle looked at the troops passing by. "I suppose that does help," he said, "But no. The Herald of Andraste, the woman who'd sew up the holes to the Fade, has gone missing. Demons are everywhere."
"So with the Inquisition gone, we're all that's left," I concluded, adding two and two, "The Herald being missing means Aurelia is the only one who can close hellgates."
"Lady Tiberia isn't as proficient at it, but we also have advanced weapons and many mages," Valle agreed, "If we don't find the Herald, we are the only force on this world capable of restoring normality. If we do find her, we still have our military advantage and our Empress-President has already decreed as massive increase in aid to the Inquisition."
"So we'll be at the frontline of saving the world," I said, "Either way."
"That is what you wanted, isn't it?" Valle replied, "After your recent experiences. The report on them made for the most interesting Cabinet meeting I've ever been in, that is certain."
He pulled out a scroll from his long sleeve, an imprint of the Two Eagles in blue wax sealing it. His credentials as ambassador, if I had to guess. His barriers protected it from the water. He had not said a word, but still managed to hurry me along. I got the message.
"I saw the end of the world, it tends to light a fire under you," I said, "I presume you want to go straight to Alistair, rather than waiting for us to put together a line of battle?"
"You are quite correct," Valle said, "You have given up your title as Emperor, which means that you are under my authority. I don't want to see any aggressive moves from the troops at all. They're doing their job just being here. Am I understood?"
No need to wave a gun around for your opposite number to know you have one, in other words. I could respect the position, and had little objection to it as Marcus had chosen an excellently defensible location to set camp.
"Not going to be a problem," I said to Valle, before switching on my radio. "Marcus, I'm taking the Minister to the Fereldan camp. Inform Cormac that he's in charge of the Avvars while I'm away. I'll be on my radio the whole time, I'll check in with a burst or two every ten minutes."
After an affirmative response from my brother-in-law, I ordered the runners to return to their units and waved the civilians on to follow me. We mounted our horses, and moved out. The small detachment of mounted Highlanders I had assigned for the protection of the delegation and a standard-bearer to carry the national tricolour fell in to either side of the group, and together, we made for the south exit.
The camp had been set up so that the Imperial Highway itself ran directly through the middle of it. Two soixante-quinze cannon were set up to either side of the road where the exit was, and I returned hasty salutes from the gun crews and the guards as we left. The only people not surprised to see us casually wandering out of camp were the Tranquil gunners, who could feel no emotions.
The Fereldan camp was a kilometre away, and the curve of the lake made seeing what they were up to easy. Likewise, they were able to see us from the second we left our own perimeter.
A large mounted party of their own rode out to meet us half way, moving considerably faster to catch up to us. Unlike ours, which was half civilian and half mounted infantry, the Fereldans were all true cavalry. Knights, if I had to guess, likely from the southern parts of the realm. And who was leading them?
Who else but Teagan. The Guerrin banner fluttered on the lances, the wind blowing them out to the side, making them easily visible.
Having a healthy respect for the man's stubbornness, I ordered our own group to come to a halt and that the Highlanders form a loose line across the road, weapons at the ready. If it came to a fight, it wouldn't do much good, but the idea was to increase the cost of any attack on us rather than win, hopefully making Teagan think twice. At least before hearing us out.
The Fereldans slowed their approach, before stopping entirely. It seems that we had taught our own lessons to them. The Battle of the Hafter had not been a complete waste for their realm; they had learned a healthy respect for the power of firearms. There are states today that have not been so intelligent.
They waited for us. I turned back in the saddle to the Minister.
"You're up," I said, "It's Arl Teagan. He hates our guts, given that we sacked Redcliffe last year and invaded his castle. Good luck."
"I am well aware of Arl Teagan and recent history, General," Valle sighed, "A display of you acting in a subordinate role should help to convince him that he is dealing with a legitimate government, not another Orlesian invasion. If it would be possible to arrange that?"
"We're Orlesian, sort of, and we're invading," I said, "I wouldn't hold my breath."
"Negotiation is about convincing people to believe things that aren't strictly true, General," Valle laughed, "I would expect you to know that, given that Julie Marteau sold an entire way of life to people who could not possibly achieve it."
I opened my mouth to retort, but I had no words to say. He was implying that Julie had known all along that the revolution in Orlais could not succeed and had lied about it to … well, everyone. Not just that it had been a long shot, but that it had no chance at all. Worst part is, I couldn't be sure of that myself. Julie was exactly the sort of person to think in grand historical terms. Sacrificing herself and others to provide an example to future generations would not have been beyond her.
Valle rode alongside me and pat my shoulder. "There there, General," he said, "If I'm being truthful, there's a fifty percent chance that she thought we would win. But your dear Marquise is a woman capable of anything."
"I know," I grumbled, "The Fereldans are getting ornery, let's go."
The good Minister led the way, putting his horse into a trot that the rest of his entourage followed, two-by-two. The Highlander lieutenant looked to me, eyes asking if he should move up too. I held up a palm to get him to stay where he was, and overtook the civvies to rejoin Valle.
The Fereldan party was in typical knightly garb for their country; chainmail, kite shields that went down to the knee, red tabards with the national mabari on the front. These men were also wearing beakies, full helmets with faceplaces that had a distinct cone shape to deflect arrows. And as they were all lined up evenly, there was no way to tell which one was their leader.
It was only when Valle came to a stop that Teagan revealed himself, pulling his faceplate up, that we knew. The scowl that showed through the gap was mighty, as he broke ranks from his knights and right in front of me.
"Get out of Ferelden," he stated in Common, "Turn around, go back through your magic mirrors, and never come back."
Of course he would say that. "You don't want to hear what we have to say?" I asked back, casually as can be, "Even in these circumstances?"
"We were willing to talk with Tevinter," Teagan said, "But not you, Emperor. Turn around, go back through your mirrors, and never come back." The 'you' in question meaning me specifically as much as Troy generally.
"But it isn't me asking," I said, "And since you're calling me Emperor, I guess you aren't up on the latest news."
"I don't care about your pretences," Teagan said, "I care that once again, Orlesians have invaded my country. I want you to get out. Now."
"And yet, that is not for you to demand," Valle said, a polite eager-to-please smile on his face concealing his true feelings as well as any mask at the Grand Fete, "Arl Teagan, I presume?"
Teagan's scowl transferred its aim to the Minister. "Who are you?" he asked, "And who are you to say that a Fereldan cannot tell an Orlesian to get out of his homeland?"
"Where are my manners, my apologies Lord Arl," Valle said, the hostility running off his back like it was nothing, "I am Enchanter Adam Valle, Minister for Foreign Affairs. The only reason the General here is present is for my protection, and for the..."
Teagan held up a hand. "I do not care why you are here or why he is here," he said, "You are not welcome."
"You've made that perfectly clear, my Lord," Valle said, "But as I said, it is not for you to tell us that. Not because we're Orlesian, but because you are not empowered to make diplomatic decisions on behalf of your realm. You're a lord, powerful to be sure, but not royal."
"I'm sure Alistair would..." Teagan began.
"I'm sure he would," Valle agreed, "But unless you wish to initiate a battle with the full might of the Trojan Republic here and now, another decision that is not yours to make, I prefer to hear directly from the King... and the Queen."
Very clever, I thought. Anora would have learned the most from our previous military conflict.
"Unless you're saying you already have an order from the King to remove us?" Valle added out of the blue, "In which case, we shall go, though doing so would leave you to find the Inqusition and fight the demons alone."
I looked at him. Leaving Ferelden was certainly not something we were going to do. In fact, the Chancellor's orders as relayed both by Julie and by her own written words were very clear; find the Herald at almost any cost.
Valle was a liar.
Not that it seemed to matter. Teagan looked about ready to chew off his tongue, and glared at me, like it was my fault he had been outmanoeuvred. He looked about, making some calculations about the military situation. His gaze took in his own troops, then mine, and finally our camp, with the cannon very much in view.
Eventually, he controlled himself and managed to bring himself to speak. "Very well, you can speak to their Majesties," he said calmly, this time in Orlesian,"But the Marquis de la Fayette and his Avvars must stay here. I guarantee your safety."
The Arl looked at me briefly, as if he was snubbing me by exclusion from the talks. I do wonder if I was able to control my expression enough so he did not realise what a favour he was doing for me.
The Minister threw up his hands excitedly. "An excellent compromise," Valle declared happily, "I wish I had thought of it myself. Lead on, my lord."
Teagan rolled his eyes, apparently knowing the type of person the Minister was, and yet doing exactly what he asked. The Fereldan knights made way as their commander led Valle and his delegation through their line. I was astonished, and likely unable to hide it. My troops kept looking to me too, wondering what the hell was going on.
And that was how negotiations with Ferelden opened.
Valle and his fellow diplomats returned four hours later, without an escort.
He said nothing as we returned to camp, despite my asking, though it would be hard to hold a conversation anyway. The weather had gotten worse, particularly the wind. Even the Minister's magical barriers were having a hard time keeping the rain out, until he increased their strength. It was lucky that the Highlanders had been the ones setting up at the time, any other units would have had to retreat through the eluvians again rather than continue.
Avvars are a little more used to shit weather.
The Minister joined me in the command tent, where Marcus, Cormac, Aoife and Asala were already waiting, braziers and the stove already lit for warmth, a detailed map of Ferelden already spread out on the central table.
I wanted answers. "Now that we can hear ourselves think," I began, "I take it things went as well as could be?"
Valle pulled off his hood and shook himself, rubbing his hands at the nearest brazier to the map. "It went even better than expected," he said, "The Fereldans sold themselves cheap. The Chancellor authorised me to offer them a number of things if they remained stubborn. Their situation must be extremely dire."
Indeed it was. Only about half of the final harvest of the year had been brought in, and was rotting in the fields as the autumn rains had come in.
I sat down in a chair, groaning as I landed. Four hours in the saddle was an exertion and not my idea of fun. "What does that mean exactly?" I asked, "They're letting us stay?"
"With certain conditions," Valle answered, "We both need to find the Inquisition and the Herald of Andraste. The Fereldan outriders are expected to report back by raven tomorrow morning, but no one expects the news to be good. If it isn't, we will march north and search the foothills."
"The Fereldans agreed to a joint operation?" Marcus asked, incredulous, "You're right, they must be desperate."
"Well, the country is overrun with demons," I said, "Real question is what happens when we do find the Herald, dead or alive?"
"The demons need to be fought, we're going to assist," Valle said, "Our weapons are far more effective at range than bows or ballistae, and we've contained our demon problem... mostly. We will help them do the same."
I hmmed to myself, surprised that the Fereldans were so reasonable. "How did they accept that?" I asked, "That means having our troops on their soil."
"Small numbers, under their supervision," Valle countered, raising a finger, "An important distinction."
I shook my head. "The nobles would shit bricks on hearing of it," I said, "They would never agree."
"Luckily, the Queen is a woman of vision," Valle said, "It was not difficult to convince her of the opportunity such an arrangement would be. The Fereldans' biggest fear is that their way of war has become obsolete and the Orlesians will realise this. If Gaspard wins the civil war, they will be in extreme danger."
"How does letting us beat the demons for them help that problem?" Cormac asked, "They need our weapons."
"I was authorised to offer them our weapons," Valle said, "The small ones anyway, but only if they would not budge. The Arling of Amaranthine provides much of the raw materials for our weapons, the Chancellor felt that securing them without expenditure of blood and treasure was preferable."
"Lucky for Velarana that you didn't have to," I said, with absolute honesty, "I'm sure the King and Queen saw the value in being able to observe how we fight more closely. They'll be able to discover the weaknesses of our weapons and tactics, which might be enough to fight Gaspard on terms of their own choosing."
"And prepare for the day when they have similar weapons," Valle said, "Ferelden is not a rich nation, relatively speaking. They cannot change as quickly as Orlais can. I also offered them food supplies from the Minanter valley to get them through winter, or help at least."
Which meant we'd all have a lean winter, instead of the Fereldans having a truly lethal one. I wondered how the voters would react to that news if they found out... but then, Velarana was only Acting Chancellor and we were in a state of war. By the time anyone found out, hopefully we would have won the war and she'd be a hero again.
The whole point of saving Ferelden was to secure our food supply, not have a burden on it added.
"Forces to fight demons, the chance to see how our army works, food for the winter, not meeting us in battle," Marcus said, crossing his arms, "The Fereldans are getting a lot. What do we get?"
"Trade rights in perpetuity and critical war resources," Valle said, "Aside from the existing agreement with the Wardens, we're getting everything we need except food, for as long as the war continues."
"It's not the deal I would have made," I remarked.
"It has an eye beyond our immediate military objectives," the Minister replied with a smile, "If we have proven anything, General, it's that you are capable of crushing almost any army on Thedas. But you doing so does not stop rulers from throwing them at us."
Indeed the agreement did. Today, it is known as the First Treaty of Calenhad, and its main provisions formed the basis of relations between Troy and Ferelden to this day; distant most of the time, with sharp intervals of either close cooperation or war. The latter two usually when the Fereldans did something against our interests, like have a civil war, get invaded by Orlais or decide to host pirates willing to attack our shipping.
"And I suppose your plan does stop them throwing themselves at us?" I said, "Trust me, we turn enough battlefields into graveyards for our enemies, people are going to start getting the picture that facing us in battle is a bad idea." True, in more ways than one. Luckily, not many peoples are willing to put up with the depredations of war long enough to pull a Taliban rabbit out of their hat on us.
"Yes, and that is how empires are built," Valle sighed, "But it is my impression you do not want us to be an empire. Or at least, that is the will of the Marquise. She is who launched us on this journey."
Highly amused by this, I opened my mouth to say that Julie would conquer the entire continent if she could, in order to create a United States of Thedas.
I was however interrupted by a runner, who entered, soaked through like a drowned rat. She saluted and handed me a small leather scroll case, stepping back away towards the entrance. "Warm up by that stove, private, that's an order," I ordered, pointing with the scroll case, "Is this from the Fereldans?"
The soldier did as she was ordered. "Yes sir," the runner sniffed in a vaguely Tevinter accent, removing her helmet and sitting down by the stove, "Rider from their camp, directly."
Chewing my lip, I pulled the top of the cylindrical case off and pulled out the message. Inside was two pieces of rough paper, rougher than I was used to, and a message in the dwarven script was written in black ink on it.
"Tell you one thing, we should conquer Ferelden so they'll start using our damn letters," I grumbled to no one in particular, "These dwarva chicken scratchings make my eyes itch."
Marcus snorted in amused agreement, while the private by the stove grinned. The former because his family had learned the Latin script for two thousand years and used it for cryptography for almost as long, and the latter because she was likely literate only in our alphabet, a result of mandatory military education. She was an ex-slave, and Marcus was one of her former masters... which explained the strange deference she had shown before.
Reminded about what a strange situation we had created where the ex-slaves were concerned, I pulled out a flashlight, as it was pretty dark, and shone it on the paper. The message was not hard to decipher, and the news was not good. "The Fereldan outriders report that Haven is destroyed," I announced, "Buried by an avalanche."
Valle leaned over the table. "Natural causes then?" he asked.
I shook my head. "They found the trebuchets aimed at the mountainside behind the village," I said, "The Inquisition caused the avalanche. Venatori were found dead on the frozen lakeside, filled with arrows. The Fereldans think the village was about to be overrun."
"So the Inquisition lured the enemy in," Asala smiled, "And killed all of them."
"An honourable end," Aoife said, "If only we should all be so lucky, to force our enemies to buy our lives so dearly."
There were mumbles of agreement from all... except Valle, who instead rolled his eyes. His identity was not so tied up in the Army as the rest of ours was, after all.
Wondering what information was contained within, I switched to the second page. "That might have been the plan, but someone survived," I said, "The outriders also found the remains of two camps, one after the other, due north. There are no indications as to who it was, only that it was about a thousand strong based on the number of fires."
"What does that mean?" Valle asked, "The Inquisition got away?"
"More likely the Venatori. The hunt is on," I said, before looking to my Avvar officers "They're marching north, where would they go?"
Aoife and Cormac looked down at the map, and I stood up to see what they were doing.
"If they were Avvar, I would say they would go northeast into the Frostbacks here," Aoife said, pointing at a spot not too far from two smaller lakes on the map, "The mountains on the south side of Gherlen's Pass. They are a good defensive location. But Venatori are not Avvar."
"The lowlanders will move north and then west, to Sulcher's Pass," Cormac agreed, "Soon, the heavy snow will start. It will be very difficult on the Ferelden side, and they have a head start."
"But we have the best mountain troops in the world," I replied, referring to his own people, "We're moving out at first light for Sulcher's Pass."
We broke camp in the glow of mage lights and Fade-fire, which gave the Fereldans plenty of heads up about what we were doing even if I hadn't sent a message to Alistair, and marched directly north on the Imperial Highway once more. We could have went to Haven and retraced the steps of those who had escaped the battle there, but my Highlanders more or less called that a stupid idea.
Instead, we would move thirty kilometres to the start of the mountain road and go west along it. Getting to the place where it met the Highway took us only a day, but the Fereldans struggled to keep up with their full numbers. For one, there were a good deal more of them to move, for another, they had to feed their people via normal logistics and the country was already starving.
The cavalry had no issue matching our speed of course, and the King rode at the head of them, taking personal command. This remained the case even as we climbed higher over the next few days, over the hump of the Frostbacks. Snow was falling for a couple of hours each night, and it was getting hard on the horses to move through it.
Our two forces remained in separate camps each night, even as space started becoming a premium. Despite this, I made sure to keep the Fereldans supplied with food and firewood from our own stocks at Troy, as the King and the flower of Fereldan nobility dying on a mountainside would screw our new agreement right up. I withdrew the horses and the Foreign Legion through the eluvians too, to speed our pace and save the near-tropic Tevinter troops from the frostbite.
The road to Sulcher's Pass was more of a wide trail, the only thing justifying the moniker of 'road' being the bridges across gullies that had been built by the Fereldans themselves during the occupation by Orlais for smuggling purposes. It had been more recently used by the Templars to transit into Ferelden in pursuit of the mages, as it was not guarded by the customs officials due to the threat of the Avvars.
I thought it was utterly beautiful country, myself. The way was surrounded by pines or bare rock rising up from either side, varying between the two but always with a thick dusting of snow. At the bridges, streams flowed down into long, thin valleys, icicles hanging off the bottom of the arches from where their spray dripped and froze.
But it didn't take long at our pace to get past all that, and soon we were on the 'Orlesian' side of the pass, although Orlais did not formally claim it. Here the 'road' goes down a far wider river valley, with a modest sized floodplain and few trees. It even begins to resemble its name, with some occasional paving and flood defences against the freezing water flowing nearby.
About halfway down the valley is a watchtower, of ancient construction. You can see it from miles away, and in the snows, I could have sworn I saw people moving in it, and later, away from it. But as we got closer, I could see no movement. I was near the front of the column, once again mounted on top of Bellona, as the weather had warmed a good bit.
When we finally reached where you can see the whole tower, a smaller connecting valley opened up to our view. From the direction we were travelling, it is almost impossible to notice that it is there. We would discover the same is true travelling the other way as well, a little bit later.
At the back of the valley, maybe three kilometres away from the watchtower, sits a massive mountain fortress. Built in the Fereldan style with squared towers and crenellated walls, atop a natural outcropping of sheer rock a good two hundred feet tall. Its position meant that it was always in the sun despite the high mountains around it, and it was clearly chosen to control the main valley.
The entire column turned their heads to look at it as we passed by the watchtower. As interesting as it was, there appeared to be no sign of life from it and I would not have thought that a thousand people could shelter there. I was about to shout for everyone to keep marching, as some were stumbling on stones as they stared, when visitors came swooping by.
The three eagles, the two that had followed Julie and Tam since Sahrnia and the black eagle of Aurelia, glided by my head no more than six feet away.
They came from behind, as if part of the column, before breaking north; directly towards the fortress. I immediately halted Bellona and watched them, as they flapped their wings to gain altitude, as if aiming to perch themselves up there.
Before our experience in the Fade, I probably would have ignored this. But those eagles had appeared before as surveillance for some great entity, most likely the greater demon named 'Ambition'. Its subordinates had not attacked us despite easy opportunities to do so during our stay, and the eagles had even chased off Desire demons.
Taking it all for the clue that it was, I immediately called the entire column to halt and sent runners for Alistair. By my guess, we were still in Ferelden, he'd have more information.
"What are you doing?" Valle asked from beside me, "Is there a problem with that place?" The man had bravely and admirably remained with the army the whole time, though it's an easier trip when you can summon flames to warm your fingertips.
"Maybe," I said, "The eagles flew up there."
Every Trojan knew what eagles I was talking about, and a minister of government like Valle knew the specifics about the Fade trip we went on too. His head snapped to look, as if trying to search the birds out. They were just about visible in the air still.
It took a few minutes, but the King showed up, with a bodyguard of twelve riders no less. And thankfully, Teagan-less.
"What's the hold up?" he asked, directing the question at Valle, "Seven days of marching and we didn't stop once except to rest at midday and night. Is there some problem with the road?" The man did not seem to try and look where we were looking, like he couldn't see the fortress.
Curious.
Valle did not answer, deferring on military questions to me, as he should have."Look up there," I said, pointing for the King's benefit, "Is that not one of your border fortresses?"
Alistair shifted his weight in the saddle and his head up at where I indicated, a grimace developing on his face. "Ah, that," he said, "That's Skyhold. Technically it's mine, but we don't station anyone up here. The Orlesians would never invade by this route, it's too easy to cut off their supply lines or ambush them in the pass further up."
It was the same reason we didn't use it to go into exile ourselves. The Templars didn't have such a problem, they would've been able to rely on local support from much of the Fereldan population on arrival. At least at first.
Count on Alistair to know everything about his realm's defences... though the declaration that Skyhold was 'his' made me want to slap him on the back of the head. Royalty treating their country like personal property, that sort of shit was the whole reason we fought.
It seemed obvious to me now that was where those we were chasing had set up. "You don't think the Venatori might be up there?" I asked, "As spots for an ambush or a last stand go, that's a doozy."
Alistair glanced back at me and smiled. "A doozy?" he asked, "I'll have to remember that one." The King really couldn't help himself sometimes, which made it hard to hate him.
He stroked his chin for a moment, looking at the fortress. "It's a bit small for the size of force our trackers say came this way," he continued, "A Tevinter army wouldn't have the supply lines here to keep fed either. But at the same time, they might be counting on us to think that, either to let us pass by without detecting them or to bottle us up from both sides further down the pass."
I was impressed. I had thought of exactly the same sort of deception.
"And with so many mages in the ranks, they'd even give us a run for their money," I agreed, "We need to take it."
Alistair gave a laugh. "There's no 'we' about it, I'm afraid," he said, "You're the one with the mountain men, there's no way our knights and squires can climb that without falling." To say nothing about the walls on top once you actually get there, all the while under fire from mages.
It was my turn to laugh. "Fair enough," I said, "We'll split up. My troops will go see what we can do about this. Yours can press on to the Orlesian border."
We approached Skyhold in full battle array.
We created a perimeter across the width of the valley about two thirds of the way towards the fortress, piling up and packing the snow into a low wall for cover. We made another facing the watchtower, in case Alistair was defeated. With that done, we began making preparations for a quick siege; artillery pits were dug and the cannon themselves began to come through the eluvians, albeit slowly.
In the mean time, I watched the fortress with my binoculars. As I suspected, there were people in it. They watched, trying their best not to be seen, and without the binos they would not have been. There was no way to identify who was up there; Chantry banners were hanging from the walls, but they had seen better days. They could have been put up a month ago or a decade ago for all I knew.
I was about to look away, to ask what the status of the heavy artillery was as it was due to be brought through the Crossroads last, when I saw the portcullis of the main gate rise up.
I immediately activated my radio. "Contact," I said, "Forward regiments, prepare to receive the enemy."
Cormac, Aoife and Asala acknowledged the command, and in front of me, I saw the Highlanders rush from their resting positions to join their pickets on the snow-wall. They formed firing lines neatly, and my heart swelled a little with pride; this was a people that we had scattered with a cavalry charge a year before. Now they were veteran infantry of the line, their discipline iron.
A more amazing sight made itself known to me however, as I returned my attention to the binos.
Mounted on a black stallion, a figure in polished plate armour and a grey woollen hat rode from the main gate of the fortress into the forward tower. Among the crenellations of the walls, faces began appearing; many of them. Looking on. They were too far to identify, but they sure as hell didn't look like Venatori; far too few clown costume uniforms.
A few minutes later, and both horse and rider appeared at the bottom of the cliff from a large crevice, and rode at a trot towards us. There must have been some sort of elevator in the tower, and if it was big enough to accommodate a mounted man, it was an impressive feat of engineering in itself.
"Permission to open fire," Aoife growled in my ear by radio, as the rider entered firing range of her troops in the centre of the line.
"Hold, I want to get a good look at him first," I replied, "I approve of the aggression though." An amused breath came over the airwaves in response, and the Highlanders followed their orders.
The rider was soon close enough for me to recognise, and when I did, I whooped loudly with surprise. "Son of a bitch!" I said in Common, "It's him!"
Valle, whom I had not noticed joining me, struggled to control his own horse in its surprise at my sudden outburst. "General!" he said in Orlesian, "What son of a bitch?"
"It's Barris," I said, "The Templar! It isn't the Venatori up there, it's the Inquisition!"
Valle looked to the rider, and then to me, before grinning wildly. "Hopefully that means Lady Trevelyan is alive," he said, "Though I wonder how they knew to come here."
"She must be alive," I said, before switching to my radio again, "All regiments, stand down. Rider is friendly."
There was some grumbling over that order, but the firelancers on the line withdrew from the snow-wall again. The Knight-Commander continued forward, slowing slightly. I decided I wasn't going to wait.
"With me," I said to Valle, before nudging Bellona forward into a trot of her own. I made way my past the empty artillery pits and the logisticians moving the cannons to them, and through the gap the road ran through the piled-up snow by.
At last, Barris came to a halt as I drew near. He was smiling, I was smiling, it was a good thing too. Finally, I stopped Bellona beside his horse, and we shook hands.
"So, you're still alive," I said, "Would've thought your superiors would've killed you for knowing an apostate like me."
"It was a close thing, and not just because of you," Barris replied, "I almost fell in battle twice. At the Redoubt and at Haven. Long stories."
"You look well for someone who just marched over the mountains," I said, "Better than I probably do. I don't suppose you can tell me if Lady Trevelyan or Dorian Pavus of Tevinter are alive up there?" I looked up as if to the heavens, but was indicating Skyhold.
"Both are alive and well," smiled Barris, "In fact, it was Lady Trevelyan who dispatched me to you, to issue you an invitation to Skyhold. There was some... concern from her circle that you intended to attack us, when the banners of the Chantry did not dissuade you from fortifying."
I almost didn't hear most of that, as relief that Dorian had survived washed away some of the last remaining tension. Luckily I wasn't alone and there was a chatty guy there to pick up the slack.
"Our fair Republic would never do such a thing as attack the Chantry," Valle drawled with false outrage, "I'm sorry, where are my manners. I am Enchanter Adam Valle, Minister for Foreign Affairs." He offered his hand.
The Knight-Templar shook it. "We have met before," Barris said, no sign of prejudice on account of Valle being a mage evident, "Though you didn't speak much and you didn't have a fancy title like that."
"You should speak only when you have something to say," Valle smiled, "With your permission, I would like to bring a delegation with us to begin negotiations. Our government has decided to greatly increase the support we are giving to the Inquisition, but there are delicate matters to be discussed."
"I'm sure that would be no problem," Barris replied, his lips thinning, "I will make the arrangements. Wait at the bottom of the tower for the cable lift."
He turned his horse about. "See you up there," he said, "We must have a drink together when all of this is done with." I gave him a thumbs up, and accepting it as a yes, he rode away.
"Might want to send a rider to Alistair too," I said to Valle, "Before he blunders into Orlais and starts another war. I'm sure he has words for the Inquisition too."
"Indeed," Valle said, eyes flashing, "But it is for the best that we get the first word in. We may already be fighting uphill with Trevelyan, no need for the King to make things worse."
We were about to see for ourselves.