Chapter Ninety-Six: Ghosts
Negotiations at Skyhold continued to escalate, as delegates from practically every other realm began arriving.
Some through the eluvian network.
Lord Clouet came on behalf of Free Orlais as Viceroy, though the Inquisition didn't recognise him as independent to avoid offending the royalists. That made three Orlesian factions in attendance now, if you didn't count us.
Prince Ali came to represent Rivain, though he left the elephants and monkey behind this time. Though his control of his country was minimal, he still had a formidable and mobile military force that could very much help matters.
The circumstances of his mercenary company becoming free to do so was less happy, however. Last I mentioned him, he had organised the meeting that led to the Treaty of Oceane with Antiva and he had been left to defend the Calabrian rebels. Said rebels had promptly started looking for a way out of their predicament the moment our forces arrived, and after a few discrete assassinations, they came to an agreement with the Antivan crown.
So, it was with some annoyance to me that Velarana allowed the representatives of the newly founded United Kingdom of Antiva and Calabria through our eluvians to join the party, though they were so thoroughly searched that it created something of a diplomatic incident, only mitigated by the fact we found a Crow in the ranks of the delegation as a result.
I wanted to throw the little bird off the top of the walls, see if he could fly like a Crow, but the Inquisitor demurred. Of course, I doubt the High Chancellor would've approved either.
Antiva's true rulers, the merchant princes, were pragmatic men and women. The new state adopted the Calabrian system of government, a constitutional monarchy with limited democracy, along with the tricolour flag of red, white and green we had given the rebels, and most importantly for Velarana, the formal alliance with Troy. This put Antiva on our side of the table, which sounds bizarre until you realise they were angling for our weapons again.
To counterbalance this wave of new allies to Troy, our enemies also bulked up their presence.
Both Orlesian royalist factions sent even higher ranked nobles than had been present for the Herald's trip to Therinfal Redoubt. Gaspard's representative was a chevalier second only to his Marshal-Commandant of the Dales. Celene sent the Laurent de Ghislain, a son of the Madame de Fer's patron and lover. Hard hitters in other words, not men who were there to roll over.
Nevarra sent a member of the Mortalitasi, a death mage called Viuus Anaxas who regularly possessed corpses with Fade spirits. The man had the good sense to not bring any walking corpses with him, given that I could've sent them fleeing the dead bodies just by walking past. How the Chantry tolerated that sort of crap but looked down on us is beyond me even today.
Vael showed up himself to represent the part of the Free Marches we hadn't conquered yet with a collection of lower ranking clerics from each of the minor cities, though he was last on account of having to make his way by non-magical means.
At long last, the entire South had arrived to get Evelyn Trevelyan to fight the demons and close the hellgates. It's amazing what coming into possession of a castle can do for your standing among nobles, especially when you can solve a deadly problem they are incapable of seeing to.
Yet as all these grandees arrived with a great deal of ceremony, I kept to myself, concentrating on the training of the Inquisition's first platoon of firelancers (and Sera). The grandees kept to themselves too, though some observed our drills at the breaks in the talks from a distance. The exception was Ali, whose friendship I was glad to accept and whose participation in the drills was also happily accepted.
So, babysitting Cullen's boys and girls while shooting the shit with Ali describes about two weeks of my life, a stretch that only ended when Valle showed up to drag me to the front of political affairs once more.
We were on the walls rather than the courtyard, having upgraded the trainees from basic drill to some marksmanship.
If they could shoot at demons standing in the open without having to get close to the Fade rifts, as the Inquisition called hellgates, that was certainly better than them having to get in close in order to shoot. In order to train them on this, we had set up metallic targets a quarter of a kilometre away, on an outcrop of rock that jutted up from the same plateau the fortress itself stood on, with bells attached.
From the wall just above the stable courtyard, each person took their turn on one of the targets. Most were doing reasonably well, while Sera continued to appear supernaturally gifted, able to hit targets ranged well in excess of the norm.
Growing bored, I sat down on the inside edge of the wall and rested for a bit, Ali standing behind to speak me, as he had completely failed to hit the targets one too many times. His cloak flapped loudly in the wind, which I found oddly pleasant, though it covered better clothes than mine. I had avoided wearing my Earth clothing, except for the boots and socks.
"I will get better," the Prince insisted in his impeccable Orlesian, "It is like riding an elephant. It takes practice and the trust of the beast." He was referring to shooting a firelance.
On account of the noise of the gunfire and not feeling the concept he expressed required any more comment, I grunted a wordless reply. Besides, by now something else had caught my eye. The Prince looked out to see what I was gawking at.
It was Solas. The Dread Wolf hiding among us.
He was in multiple layers of cotton cloth wrapped around him, with furs on top across his shoulders, a large gnarled for his mage's staff with a crystal set at the top. He was recognisable despite that on account of his bald head and the wolf's jawbone around his neck on a line, but most surprising to me was that he had no shoes on. It was way too cold for that, even if it was above freezing.
"So that is the elvhen Rift mage," Ali said, "He certainly looks like a Dalish, except he does not have the tattoos. Curious... What is he doing?"
The elf was simply standing by the well, supporting some of his weight with his staff clutched between two gloved hands, staring at something. It took me a minute to figure out what.
There was a young guy in a broad-brimmed hat moving between each of the stable stalls. He was carrying two buckets, one with some sort of off-colour butter in it and another with grainmeal for the horses. It would've been an unremarkable sight, except the kid's hat really was exceptionally large, the brim almost as wide as a small umbrella.
He seemed to understand I was watching him too, because he quickly glanced up at me from under the hat, revealing a very pale, almost sickly looking face, eyes shadowed by dark bulges underneath, all framed by dirty-blonde hair. My first thought was the guy was some sort of saboteur.
"Well, I'm going to take a guess here," I said to Ali, "And say that Mr. Solas is watching the suspicious young man feeding the horses something he probably shouldn't."
The Prince's head swivelled to see who I was talking about, and he searched for a few minutes, scratching at his facial scars as he did so. "What man?" Ali asked, "I see no man."
A chill ran down my spine. The guy had just popped out of a stall as the Prince had looked. He would've had to have been very short-sighted not to see, there were braziers lit all around the interloper for the benefit of the horses' warmth.
Memories of Lienne de Montsimmard from the day we met Gaspard came flooding back; invisibility magic. It hadn't affected me that day, but it had affected everyone else. Ali couldn't see because no one could... except apparently Solas.
Deciding something needed to be done about the situation, I stood up from my place and walked down the nearby stairs to the courtyard itself. Ali, seemingly not perturbed by my leaving without another word, followed close behind. He got the general gist. I let my right hand rest on the holster of my handcannon, as I went directly for Solas.
To his credit, the elf-mage didn't so much as flinch on seeing the Prince of Rivain and the 'Emperor' of the Trojans walk straight at him while heavily armed. I was almost disappointed by that.
Instead, Solas turned his attention fully to me.
"General Hunt, Prince Ali," he said in greeting, though his tone was flat, "A pleasure to meet you at last." Technically speaking, that was the incorrect order to address the pair of us. Ali was an actual royal, whereas my formal titles no longer included any imperial or royal title whatsoever. The Prince had been a soldier longer than I have though, and it slid off his back no problem.
I would've pointed out to Solas that it wasn't my first time meeting him, but I was in a hurry.
"Pleasure is all mine," I said, quickly and quietly, "Do you see the boy feeding the horses something?"
Solas' eyes shifted briefly towards the stables before returning to meet mine. "No," he said shortly, "Why?" He seemed almost offended to me. And he was clearly lying.
Ali shook his head in disbelief. "What boy?" he smirked, "Have you been drinking from a hidden flask? Isn't that against your safety rules?" Drinking or being drunk on the range is forbidden and I had given a very big speech to him a few hours earlier on the subject.
"Why are you staring at the stables if you can't see the boy?" I asked Solas, ignoring the joke from Ali.
The mage relented with a visible breath.
"I noticed items disappearing and reappearing," Solas admitted, "I am aware of the existence of the boy through what he does with other items, but I do not see him unless he wants me to. Such a being is... within my interests." He provided no further explanation on that, and Ali seemed to be working up a royal rebuke as I hadn't really properly addressed him.
"It's a mage using invisibility magic," I explained swiftly, glancing at the stable to make sure the guy wasn't coming, "Doing something in the stables. Enchanter Solas, can we count on your assistance in detaining him?" While I could walk through magic, catching a mage is usually best done with the assistance of another one.
Solas sighed, like I had said something stupid. "It isn't a mage using a spell, General," he said, "It is Cole. He is a spirit."
That being the last thing I expected, I flinched. Pulling him aside, I almost had to ask him to repeat that. He did not appreciate being pulled.
"What the hell do you mean?" I asked, "He came out of a hellg... a Fade rift? A spirit, like a demon?" My assumption being that getting out of the Fade required a mage or a hellgate. I had met a spirit that was not immediately hostile in my dreams, but even it clearly had an agenda.
"That's exactly what he means," Ali replied quickly, "We should fetch Commandante Barris." The Prince was the Andrastian pretender to the throne of Rivain and it really showed. He made to leave, but the mage grabbed his arm.
"You know not of what you speak, Príncipe," Solas stated venomously, "When one does not have expertise on a subject, one should keep one's mouth shut!"
Ali bore his teeth in response, hand going for a sabre that had been under his cloak. "I do not need expertise to know Fade creatures are dangerous," he said, "Nor that you have no standing to speak to me like that."
I put myself in between the two, before magic flew and there was a diplomatic incident. This was my fault in a way, as I saw it. I slapped the flat of Ali's sabre away before he could aim a slash at the mage from the side, which seemed to deflate his ego for the moment.
"We're not here to discuss theology," I said firmly to both parties, "Is the guy a demon or not?"
"The lack of distinction between a spirit and a demon is not as secure as your Andrastian friends have led you to believe," Solas explained sharply, "Cole shows none of the corruption that characterises a demon. He is a spirit. As for his method of arrival, he would neither be able to travel, nor would he be sane, if he had travelled through a rift to this world."
It hadn't even occurred to me that we were dozens of miles from the nearest hellgate, which goes to show just how shocked I was to hear a spirit was walking around the fortress. That said, demons had come through the hellgate nearest Troy without becoming 'insane', for reasons I could not yet understand.
I groaned, conceding that he wasn't wrong about that.
"What is he doing then?" I asked, "With the horses?"
"Calming them," a voice said from behind me.
My heart raced from the surprise, regretting that the hostilities had moved my attention away for long enough for this to happen. I spun on the spot, as did Ali, both our weapons rising up out of an abundance of caution. The man behind me was a blur, not due to any magic, but because he suddenly moved very fast.
Just as soon as I had raised my handcannon, a double-bladed dagger spun into the side of it with the full weight of the being behind it, knocking it aside and almost out of my hand. It was lucky I hadn't flicked the safety off yet, because as the thing twisted away, my trigger finger slipped from the side of the weapon onto the trigger itself.
Ali didn't fare much better either, as the young man stepped inside the space needed to swing his sabre and held a daggerpoint under his chin.
"Calm," the young man said soothingly to Ali from under his wide hat, "You are never calm, are you? Not on the inside."
The Prince turned a shade of angry red, his rage at being totally impotent impossible to contain. His hands twitched to either side of him, as he tried to figure out some way to escape... but there was none, the spirit was practically standing on his feet and they were of similar height.
Steadying myself with a breath, I aimed, finally readying my handcannon to fire as I did so. The guy was wide open from the angle I had on him.
"Step away from the Prince," I said coolly, "Throw that dagger away. You won't be harmed."
'Cole' responded with remarkable speed, taking several long steps back and throwing the dagger over his shoulder behind him, and raised both his hands. The weapon landed perfectly upright in the soil about ten yards away. Jesus, I thought, he could've thrown that thing and had me dead to rights.
Ali grimaced triumphantly, not paying any attention to the perfection of his foe's throw, and took a menacing step towards the spirit. Not great for our chances of getting the Inquisitor on side.
"Easy tiger," I said, putting my arm in front of him before he did something stupid, "I think we've got him." I shook my handcannon slightly while still aiming it, to emphasize just what I meant. The message was received loud and clear. The sabre returned to its scabbard under Ali's cloak, albeit reluctantly and likely out of a wish not to offend a benefactor.
"You've made your point Cole," Solas said with exasperation, "Do you want to tell us what you were doing with the horses? You're worrying these men." That last line was delivered as if we were children to him... which I suppose when compared with his own years, we were.
The hat tilted back and forth, before the brim rose up, revealing the bloodshot eyes of the young man.
"The horses don't like thunder that close to them," Cole explained softly, "But they relax when they eat oil from this." He put a hand in a pocket and pulled out a clump of green leaf.
It was cannabis. You could smell it, never mind that the shape was unmistakable, the strong stuff.
I cocked an eyebrow, lowering my weapon. Of all the things in the world I thought he might be doing, getting the horses high would've been dead last. "I didn't know horses could eat that," I smirked, "Not sure you need to sneak about though."
"Master Dennet doesn't like me near the horses," Cole said mournfully, "He says I don't know what I'm doing. But I do!" He waved the weed around like a talisman.
"You could likely disembowel the stablemaster in a split second," I replied flatly, "Does he know that?"
"...No?" Cole said, uncertainly, "Why?"
"Best not to encourage that line of thinking, General," Solas said, stepping in again, "Thank you, Cole. What you did was very thoughtful."
The kid fidgeted with the leaf between his fingers, unsure what to do with the compliment.
"What he did was raise his weapon to the rightful King of Rivain, Llomerryn and Estwatch," Ali growled, "A grave insult to my realm. But one easily forgiven if I receive an apology."
Seemed a bit much, and the complaint of lèse-majesté was being laid on a bit thick.
"He's a kid, Ali," I intervened, "A deadly one, but we did make the first move."
Ali eyed me with some contempt, though I was getting to know him well enough to know it was mostly an act.
"I'm sorry," Cole said honestly, directing his words at Ali, "But I don't understand. You're not afraid of knives. You used to play with them."
Ali's mouth turned to a thin line for a moment. "Is this spirit reading my memories?" he asked Solas, "Because I do not like that idea."
The mage's eyes flickered between the spirit and the Prince.
"Then you should reassure yourself that he isn't," Solas lied, "I have already spoken to the Inquisitor about this matter. She would be most displeased if you were to make an issue of it. And unlike your friend here, you don't actually have a realm to back your words."
What a savage putdown. The elf was not having any of Ali's shit, and it was sort of amusing to me. After all, royal prerogatives and the feelings of monarchs were not exactly high on my list of things to care about. Even if the monarch in question was friendly.
"For now," Ali smiled back at the elf, not happy at all, "You forgot to add 'for now', master mage." His genuine desire to disembowel Solas was clear with every syllable. And with that, he departed, back up to the wall to continue his shooting practice. It seems no one else up there had noticed the incident, to my relief.
"Sorry about that," I said to Solas, "The man is quite insistent when it comes to the whole throne issue. He finds it hilarious that I actually gave one up." That was the moment that broke the ice between us, in truth. Until then, he was rather distant.
"He wants people to recognise him for who he is," Cole said, "It's not his fault."
The mage made a disapproving noise. "That may be so," Solas said, "But recognition as a king takes more than possessing royal arrogance or an army."
"An army and arrogance is a good start," came an Orlesian accented response, "But the support of the people seems most vital."
There was no rush to put a weapon on the target this time, the voice was very familiar. Adam Valle approached, his staff slung over his shoulder by a strap that was attached to his Lucrosian Circle robes. He had his usual disarming smile on, and thus was in full Minister-for-Foreign-Affairs mode.
"You see, the good General here knows exactly what is required to be recognised as king," Valle continued, "But what do I know? I'm only a humble public servant."
Humble, my ass.
Solas said nothing, just glaring at the man, who ignored him in turn.
"And who is this?" Valle said to Cole, "We have a medicinal enthusiastic in our midst? You should be careful with that, young man, if you smoke enough of that leaf, you will turn into a vegetable."
I snorted, receiving a curious look from Valle. "I've heard that said before," I said, holstering my handcannon. The Minister accepted that with a single knowing nod.
"How do you do that?" Cole asked Valle, "You're like him." He gestured to Solas.
"Like what, my boy?" Valle patiently replied, "I'm afraid I don't quite understand?"
"Your face says one thing, but you mean another," Cole said, "And you're hiding secrets."
Both Valle and Solas wore polite, poker-faces, Valle with his smile, Solas with his condescending stare. Cole glanced between them and me, as if expecting me to rescue him. I shrugged back at him, at a loss about what the hell he was talking about in the first place.
"It's really quite simple," Valle said, "I can teach you, if you'd like?"
"I do not think Cole needs to learn how to lie," Solas cut in.
Valle cocked his head. "And how would you know that?" he said, "It seems to have been useful to us, why not to him? In fact, I do not know why you remain here if your only goal is to lecture us. Don't you have some Fade rifts to be studying or something?"
Solas frowned, but sending a careful look at me, thought better of it. He correctly assumed I would side with my own country's minister. Being magebane has its advantages in these scenarios. He stalked off towards the upper courtyard.
"Best you run along too, my boy," Valle said to Cole, "I need to talk to Sam here."
"The other horses need their help too," Cole agreed, before walking away with a strange stiffness about him. We watched him disappear into another stable stall with his two buckets quietly, until he was out of sight again.
Strange times, I thought.
"That was a spirit, you know?" I said idly, "This place has spirits just... walkin' round the place. Just when I thought this world couldn't get weirder."
"Yes, I know," Valle frowned, "Three days ago, I overheard to the representative from Tantervale, a Chantry brother with an ill-advised beard and overly-decorated robes. He was rather loud in his complaints about the matter. Apparently the Herald won't let Pentaghast or Barris kill the thing. I doubt she would let us do so either, if we felt the need."
Cole didn't seem like a thing to me... nor did he seem entirely human, or at least not fully in control of himself. But that wasn't a matter I was about to debate. The Minister for Foreign Affairs didn't just drop in on me for no reason.
"Well, that just leaves the question of what the hell you want?" I said, "Or should I guess?"
Valle gave a guffaw. "You guessing might be fun for a while, but no," he replied, "I think I will spare you the embarrassment and tell you."
"You're so kind," I drawled sarcastically, "Has anyone ever told you that?"
"On multiple occasions," Valle lied, before continuing, "I have good news; the major powers have come to an agreement. That is the Inquisition, the Orlesian royalists, Ferelden, Nevarra and ourselves. We're forming a council for the command of all allied forces."
I have to admit, my brow rose at that news. "You got all of them to agree on something?" I said, "That is actually very impressive."
"It's easy when none of them actually want the responsibility of fighting the demons," Valle intoned deeply, as he leaned in closer so no one could hear, "They much prefer that we do it. And the Inquisition want our weapons very badly. We extracted quite a price for that, among other things, and even so, they'll only be getting small arms. No artillery."
I had been warned that arming the Inquisition was probably going to be inevitable, but I still wasn't happy about it. "Well, not getting blasted by our own cannon is a silver lining at least," I grumbled, "If you're here to offer me the seat on the council, tell them I refuse."
Valle snickered to himself for a moment. "Trust me, after the way you handled Antiva, most of the world is too afraid of you to possibly place you in an openly diplomatic position," he said, "You are being seconded to the Inquisition however, as the marshal of the allied forces."
Great, another secondment to an international organisation where the politics would get in the way of getting shit done. How pleasantly surprised I would be at how it actually worked.
"And they agreed to this?" I asked.
"Well, the Orlesians didn't," Valle admitted, "But Orlais is both politically divided and on its knees by all reports. Until they get around to choosing who their leader really is, they're an irrelevance and they know it. They're going along with the plan and will probably renege on that part of the agreement the moment they put a united front together."
Gaspard had the military chops to lead the entire alliance in his own right, and Celene couldn't afford to be upstaged by libertarian upstarts given that we had formerly declared our allegiance to her.
"Sounds about right," I said, "And the Inquisitor?"
Shifting his robes with his hand for a moment, Valle seemed to steel himself. It wasn't going to be good. "Inquisitor Trevelyan agreed on the condition that Ostwick be enrolled in the League of Ansburg as a free city," he said, "Under her family's rule."
The sudden need for a drink hit me like a splash of cold water. I rounded on the man. "You mean to say you gave Ostwick back to its nobles?" I said slowly, "After they conspired to commit genocide?"
After I had taken their entire country as punishment.
"No, that is not what I am saying," Valle replied firmly, "One, it is the Trevelyans returning to power not the former Teyrn, and two, it is Ostwick City only. I talked her down from the rest of their territory, including the mountain vales and the main valley, that will all remain Trojan territory as per your declaration of annexation. The Trevelyan estate will remain under Trojan control, as private property of the family."
An arrangement made because Troy didn't have farms, Valhalla was still heavily forested. We needed farmland that wasn't either presently forest or presently on the territory of our reluctant allies. Hercinia had plenty, but Hercinia was also expanding rapidly courtesy of the freed slaves from the Tiberian estates and refugees from a thousand other places. Our High Chancellor wasn't a fool, and so Val Ost was to remain a breadbasket for a number of years.
I got the picture about the Inquisitor's intentions though. Trevelyan was feathering her own nest and that of her father and brother. She really was a noble, manoeuvring like that even at a huge disadvantage in arms. Clearly her family thought very badly of their former liege-lord if they were willing to back a usurpation.
"That still leaves them at our mercy, mostly," I said, "Well played."
"Thank you, General," Valle said, bowing from the waist, "I serve the Trojan Republic."
I examined him for any hint of sarcasm, but I could find none. Though he was sneaky enough to put on that level of performance if he wanted to.
"That just leaves me," I said, "And why everyone thinks I'll take that job. Marshal isn't going to cut it as a title for a start, but more to the point, I intended to take up my old position as Commanding-General for this war... assuming Soprano wouldn't stab me with her bayonet for asking."
My fellow general was becoming quite adept at the business of command in her own right, and she had victories to her name of some note. Vael certainly cursed the day I recruited her, she had slapped his army up and down the Minanter Valley.
Valle's smile widened so far, he looked like he was wearing a harlequin mask. My lip curled at the sight. "The Inquisitor really wants that anti-magic aura of yours," he said, "And our firelances, which could only possibly be supplied under our supervision. Who better to accomplish that duty than you?"
Reasonable on both counts. The Inquisitor would be much better able to fight demons with me on board, and our own concerns about technology proliferation could be soothed a little.
"But that Sister Nightingale of theirs had a very interesting piece of information to trade for your cooperation," Valle continued, "We immediately accepted on your behalf. That is the confidence we have in your approval."
A bombshell then. My curiosity was definitely piqued. "And what might that information be?" I asked.
"The location, planned route and departure time of the pirate Ianto," Valle said, "He's leaving from Alamar tomorrow for Estwatch with a flotilla of seven ships, where he will resupply and then set sail for Llomerryn."
Joy filled my heart on hearing those words, electrifying me. The man who had put my soldiers, Mariette and I through an unspeakable ordeal, all in the name of exploiting my 'gifts' was finally within my grasp. "That is definitely worth the trouble!" I said, "Please tell me arrangements have already been made to trap him."
The Minister crossed his arms and nodded. "Fisher was in the Crossroads when I sent the information through," Valle confirmed, "The Navy are preparing to sail at once from Troy as we speak. We likely won't be able to stop the pirates getting to Estwatch, but we can stop them getting off of it."
"Then all we have to do is put an eluvian ashore and take the island," I said excitedly, "This is perfect. I just hope the Assembly is on board with us landing troops on foreign soil and with me leading the attack."
"Oh I'm sure they will be," Valle insisted, "Rivain has the strongest claim among the many made upon Estwatch, legally speaking. Haven't you been spending time with the King of Rivain?" He pointed with his staff up at the wall, where Ali was in the midst of taking another shot under the watchful gaze of our sergeants.
"Good point," I said.
An island was as good an apology as I could make for not letting him split Cole open with his sabre.