Chapter 16: The Emperor's Hand

The inner sanctum of the Imperial Palace in Denerim seemed unnaturally cold. Cold and dark. The oppressive sensations were not why Aethilis shifted uncomfortably in his chair, however, nor were they why he was struggling not to shiver. The silhouettes of black-armored Blades lined the walls, rigid and unflinching as statues. Even as a general, it was rare to see so many of the Empire's most feared killers in one place at one time. Aethilis could feel their eyes on him, watching him through the narrow slits in their full-faced helms. Their presence would have been unnerving enough, but Aethilis was also certain the chamber was filled with other things. Things hidden in the shadows, moving just beyond his vision. Occasionally he would be certain that he saw something move in the peripheries of his vision, but whenever he turned his head he saw only darkness. He stopped trying to catch sight of whatever was moving, he had a feeling he probably didn't want to know anyway. Sulla was faring no better in the chair next to him. He was sitting very still, but his eyes were wide and darting from side-to-side, and a sheen of sweat covered his face despite the chill in the air.

After being made to wait for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time, Aethilis heard an unseen door open at the other end of the chamber followed shortly by the clapping of several pairs of booted feet on the stone floor. Aethilis and Sulla both stood and bowed respectfully as their hosts entered the small ring of light that surrounded the table, flanked by several more armed Blades. Viceroy A'zzmar slid gracefully into her chair without acknowledging the pair of generals. Praetor Ivar by contrast smiled generously and motioned for them to retake their seats. The Captain of the military arm of the Blades, Ivar had recently been elevated to Praetor of Ferelden, placing both Aethilis and Sulla directly under his command. A'zzmar was the administrative head of the entire Order of the Blades, and by extension the civilian bureaucracy of the Empire. Between the two of them, they controlled everything, and took their orders directly from the Emperor himself. Aethilis caught Sulla shooting him a sideways glance out of the corner of his eye. Aethilis knew what he was thinking, neither of them had ever been called to a personal audience with people of such rank before. This would either be very good, or very bad.

"Gentlemen," Ivar began without preamble, "The time has come." Aethilis and Sulla looked at each other, Sulla's brow raised in surprise.

"We're moving?" Sulla asked, "Truly?" Ivar nodded and Sulla sat back in his chair, looking at the Praetor with a mixture of confusion and doubt.

"We've been bottled up here in Ferelden for over a year," Aethilis ventured cautiously. "I have personally penned several requests for further briefings during that time which have all been…very respectfully declined."

"You may consider this your briefing then, general," A'zzmar said icily. Aethilis nodded respectfully, being sure to check his tone.

"Understood Madame Viceroy, I meant no offense. I mean only that this is rather sudden and unexpected."

"Indeed," said Ivar. "Truth be told, we have had to accelerate our plans. Given the choice, I personally would prefer to build up our strength even further." A'zzmar glared at Ivar, and Aethilis thought he heard a low growl come from her throat. Ivar either did not care or pretended not to notice. "More reinforcements arrive daily from Tamriel," the Praetor continued, "And with Antiva about to enter the Imperial fold, a few more months would have found us in a strategically superb position."

"The situation has changed," Sulla stated. Ivar nodded coolly as A'zzmar's whickers twitched. "In what way?" he asked. Ivar cleared his throat and appeared momentarily uncomfortable before regaining his composure. One of the small orbs of light that hovered over the table and provided the only light in the room followed him as he stood and walked a few paces to where a giant map of Thedas was suspended between two pillars.

"It would appear that the people of Thedas are not quite as divided as we were initially lead to believe," he said as he folded his arms behind his back and studied the map.

"How do you mean?" Sulla asked.

"They are preparing to invade Ferelden." Sulla stared at Ivar's back and blinked. He looked at Aethilis, who could only shrug. He felt as dumbfounded as Sulla looked.

"Invade," Sulla said as though he had just learned the meaning of the word. He shook his head again. "Who are 'they'?" he asked. Ivar looked over and cocked an eyebrow before returning his attention to the map.

"The Orlesians are redeploying their army," he began. "They are shifting the majority of their forces away from their defensive positions guarding the Frostback passes and are massing around Sahrnia and Sulevin's Cradle. Several battalions of heavy cavalry have also been dispatched north to Skyhold." Ivar then pointed to the Free Marches. "Large forces have left most of the Marcher city-states, and seem to be converging around Kirkwall and Ostwick on the coast of the Waking Sea. We have also just received word at least one Tevinter legion has set out from Marothius and is crossing the mountains toward Antiva." Aethilis imagined the large armies moving across the map as Ivar paused, seeing the strategy unfold before him in his mind's eye. "These are offensive maneuvers," Ivar pointed out, "And the degree of coordination cannot be a coincidence. These kingdoms have formed an alliance, and are preparing to go on the offensive."

"They'll hit us simultaneously on three fronts," Aethilis mused. "Orlais and the Free Marches invade Ferelden from the west and north while the Imperium takes Antiva before we can reinforce it."

"Indeed," Ivar nodded.

"Our scouts and spies reported nothing of this," Sulla noted.

"As I said, this is a very recent development. Fortunately the Emperor has less…mundane resources at his disposal"

"Why Antiva?" Aethilis asked. "The treaty has not yet been signed. They could not possibly know of the negotiations." Ivar shot an accusing look at A'zzmar.

"Apparently they can and do," he said with a note of disdain. The Viceroy stood with a snarl, her tail thrashing.

"Perhaps if you had not been so lax with our army," she began before Ivar whirled on her.

"I have fulfilled my military obligations exactly as the Emperor commanded," he said sternly. "The negotiations with Antiva, and the security of those proceedings, were your responsibility, Viceroy. Do not try to displace the blame for your failure onto me!" Aethilis and Sulla sat as still as they could manage as the two ranking Blades stared each other down. Finally A'zzmar broke eye contact and sat again. Aethilis slowly rose to his feet and approached the map.

"This fortress here, Skyhold," he said, "Why would the Orlesians send cavalry there? I was under the impression it was of no strategic value."

"It is the home of the Inquisition," Ivar said, "And independent organization. We concluded early on that it did not pose a military threat, as they have a standing force of only a few hundred. Apparently its political influence in Thedas is substantially more than we could have anticipated."

"This alliance, it is of three nations who have historically been enemies," Sulla said. "Are you saying that this Inquisition managed to barter this cooperation?" Ivar nodded and A'zzmar once again got to her feet.

"More specifically, we believe it was the Inquisition's leader," she said. "A man by the name of Marcus Trevelyan."

"Let me guess," Sulla said dryly, "Another hero? This continent is lousy with them." A'zzmar shook her head and Ivar chuckled.

"The King of Ferelden was a hero," he said, "Inquisitor Trevelyan is a legend in his own time."

"What did he do?" Aethilis asked.

"You both have read the reports on the Breach?" A'zzmar asked. Aethilis nodded.

"They're a bit hard to make sense of," Sulla said. "Most of it sounds like superstitious barbarian nonsense to me."

"If the stories were a hundred years old, I'd be inclined to agree," A'zzmar said, "But they are only four years old. The Blades are conducting an ongoing investigation to separate fact from embellishment, but what is clear is that a cataclysmic event took place here four years ago, followed by a war that nearly destroyed the entire continent. All of this was caused by an ancient and incredibly powerful entity that we do not fully understand." A'zzmar paused and looked at Ivar and then Sulla and Aethilis. "We are fighting a generation that has already stared annihilation in the face and is still here," she said ominously. "You all would do well to remember that when formulating your strategies." Ivar fixed her with an annoyed stare and then returned his gaze to the map.

"To make a long story short," he said, "Marcus Trevelyan won the war. Along with a small handful of companions, he formed the Inquisition with the express purpose of defeating this enemy. In the beginning they were very few and regarded as rebels and heretics by most of civilized society. But over time they demonstrated that, for reasons we are not yet sure of, they were the only force in Thedas that could hope for consistent success and ultimate victory against this adversary. In less than a year, they had become quite possibly the most powerful military force in Thedas."

"Yet now they are not," Aethilis observed.

"Some two years ago, Trevelyan disbanded the Inquisition's Grand Army," A'zzmar said. "Since then they've maintained only a small standing military and have acted mostly as mediators and peace keepers. But Trevelyan's name, and the memory of what he and his followers accomplished, remains a source of…inspiration."

"And so he is to thank for this alliance that is now formed against us," Aethilis said.

"It is indeed an alliance of old enemies," Ivar said, "We believe Trevelyan is the thread holding it together."

"If that thread were to be cut…" Aethilis said, Ivar grinned and nodded.

"Then we should attack Skyhold immediately," Sulla said firmly as he got to his feet. "It is right on our border, give me a single legion and I…"

"Out of the question," Ivar said. "Skyhold is unassailable. It is carved into the side of a mountain, the only point of access is a stone bridge that spans a chasm a thousand feet deep. A hundred men could hold off an army of thousands indefinitely. We could take Skyhold, but only at great cost, a cost we cannot afford at this time."

"Even with our dragons? And our Centurions and…"

"Yes," Ivar said firmly. "Even with all of it."

"And so what is to be done?" asked Aethilis. Ivar and A'zzmar exchanged uneasy glances and slowly retook their seats. Aethilis thought they both looked suddenly frightened, and wondered with a sense of foreboding what could inspire such fear in two powerful people in the heart of the Imperial Palace.

"Where an army fails, one man may succeed," A'zzmar said. "When sword and shield and dragon fire are not enough, we must use other weapons."

Before Aethilis or Sulla could ask what she meant, the room grew suddenly even colder and the orbs of light illuminating the space seemed to dim. Aethilis saw A'zzmar and Ivar stiffen, their eyes turned downward. He heard the shuffling of the Blades guards in their armor for the first time since he entered the room. His skin was crawling, and a voice in the back of his mind screamed at him to flee, only through sheer force of will did he remain standing where he was. Sulla's hand was on his sword, his eyes darting frantically around the darkening room.

Then it appeared. A figure materialized out of the shadows as if from thin air. Its obsidian armor seemed to be one with the immaterial darkness and swallowed any ambient light around it, and its face was covered by a strange mask that seemed to glow.

"Blood of the Dargonborn!" Sulla exclaimed as he began to draw his sword. Aethilis' hand shot out and grabbed Sulla's wrist, but it was too late. A dagger hissed through the air and buried itself to the hilt in the general's chest. Sulla opened his mouth to scream, but only a stream of blood spurted out. Sulla slumped to the floor with Aethilis' hand still around his wrist. He let go and took a step back in horror.

"Why!?" he screamed, "What is the meaning of this?" Ivar and A'zzmar remained seated, their eyes downcast, looking almost contrite.

"The Hand of the Emperor do not suffer steel drawn in their presence," Ivar whispered.

"The Hand of the…" Aethilis trailed off and he looked at the shadowy figure again. He recognized the mask then, only from reputation. One of nine ancient masks that bestowed on their wearers powerful enchantments. Given as gifts by the Emperor himself to The Nine Imperial Guards. They were his instruments, extensions of his will, his voice, his eyes, his hands.

His weapons.

Aethilis' gaze drifted down from the mask to the symbol emblazoned on the Imperial Guard's armor. An ancient symbol, one wreathed in myth, whispered of in the dead of night by mothers to their children to scare them into obedience. He stared at it, a jagged skull with a blood-red handprint on its forehead. Tendrils of terror like he had never felt crept into his heart and robbed him of any remaining constitution as the dark reality of the monster before him seized his mind.

"The Dark Brotherhood," he whispered hoarsely as he sank to his knees and clutched his head between his arms. He heard the boot steps come crashing down one by one as the assassin walked toward him. He heard a sickly wet tearing sound as the dagger was pulled from Sulla's chest. Aethilis curled himself into a ball and closed his eyes tight until the sound of the footfalls finally receded into silence.

"Get up, General," he heard Ivar say. He obeyed, pulling himself to his feet in time to see two Blades grab Sulla by his arms and drag his limp form away. He forced himself not to look. Ivar and A'zzmar were standing again, looking very solemn.

"Begin deploying your troops general," Ivar said. "We must get them in place as soon as possible." He paused before adding, "You will be informed of General Sulla's replacement shortly." Aethilis nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat as he managed a weak salute. He looked at the smeared blood on the floor where Sulla's body had been.

"He is going to kill Marcus Trevelyan?" he stammered. Ivar nodded gravely, and Aethilis suddenly felt a great swell of pity for the man. It must have shown on his face, because Praetor Ivar walked around the table and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I know," he said.