Notes: Thank you for reading! This chapter is one I've had in my imagination since before I ever began this story.
I have posted this chapter, chapter 88, and chapter 87 all around the same time. Don't overlook any of them! The goal is to get this posted here so I can start posting from my DA:I story.
Believe it or not, there is some extremely slightly modified game dialogue in this chapter! Elthina is the character who says it. There is also a rather explicit NSFW love scene early on.
There was an entire soundtrack for this chapter (and another for Chapter 90), which I've listed in the end notes. But the chapter title comes from "The Holy Grail" by Blind Guardian.
Chapter 89: Come To Be the Nemesis
The army marched north from Kirkwall, crossing the Vimmarks through the pass, then entering the Wildervale. Tame trained brontos pulled the wagons of weaponry, their labor alleviated somewhat with persistent force spells applied to the cargo to push it along. The wagons carrying bombs and rockets were plated and covered with armor-runed metal to secure the highly explosive munitions against accidental magic or intentional enemy attack. In the case of the wagons carrying rockets, the metal-shielded covers also protected the cargo from being revealed too soon to any enemy scouts or spies. Caitlyn was not making any attempt to conceal her army's size or the fact that the wagons were carrying ballistae, trebuchet components, or secret munitions—presumably, to ignorant enemy eyes, just blasting powder bombs. Indeed, the entire point of this open, brazen approach was to get the enemy to focus on Starkhaven as the probable target. The only aspects of her march that she meant to hide were the rockets and the feint. To that end, she directed her army's movement eastward, beginning the feint toward Starkhaven.
Aveline's ships would have already entered the Minanter by the time the army set off from Kirkwall, but that was necessary, because they had to reach Starkhaven and blockade it while the army was still in the Wildervale. If the navy did not get there first, the army would be forced to reveal the feint too soon. The enemy needed to be baited and tricked into sending forces to Starkhaven, and Starkhaven itself blockaded, for the feint to be of value.
The plan was for messengers to slip out occasionally by boat—with another person aboard to return the boats to the ships—to give Caitlyn and the army updates about their progress. Ravens were of no use in this situation, since there were no birds trained to find a moving army. Unfortunately, it also was not possible to communicate via elven sending-stones. Caitlyn and Anders regretted that, because it would have been extremely convenient to get intelligence from the navy at the moment they sent it, but so it was. Although Shale and Wynne had gotten the stone at Montsimmard to work, no one knew what to do to use the Kirkwall one—and they did not have a second one for the naval force to use, in any case, nor did Caitlyn and Anders trust that messages they might send over the artifacts would be seen only by their own side. Wynne and Shale had sent their message to every Circle outside Tevinter, after all.
They were at the approximate latitude of the main tributary to the Minanter—though farther east—when a scout approached them breathlessly with the news that they had been waiting for.
"They've taken the bait," reported the young elven woman, a mage who was not great with battlemagic but could perform the best Haste that anyone in the army had seen. She was so fast that she almost seemed to phase through the Fade. "General Hendyr has nearly reached Starkhaven, and enemy scouts have spotted your army and its bearing. They've mustered, we estimate, seven thousand forces to defend Starkhaven. The majority in a forced march, but we also spotted two battleships and a transport. They're due north of Your Graces, over halfway to Starkhaven." She smirked. "Brave of them to sail right into a naval battle. General Hendyr means to use the weapons."
Caitlyn and Anders smirked as well. "And we spring the trap," she said.
Caitlyn continued only half a day longer on her current bearing. By the time word of her westward turn reached Starkhaven, the enemy should be there and Starkhaven itself blockaded. With so few enemy ships, she did not have the slightest doubt that Aveline establish a blockade, preventing the city from sending aid to Tantervale once the schism realized the trap. Indeed, preparing for a siege of Starkhaven was likely the schism's intent. Anders' explosive had laid waste to the enemy fleet, and they had not been able to rebuild it even with the mass revolt of Seekers and Templars. They had not commandeered legitimate Chantry ships in their rebellion. The enemy likely knew they could not win a battle at sea, but might hope to withstand a siege of Starkhaven.
More fools they, Caitlyn thought. That night, she diverted the army west under cover of darkness.
"Starkhaven won't be able to send many people to Tantervale's rescue," Anders remarked smugly as he spurred his horse along.
Caitlyn nodded. "It's possible that a few can escape Starkhaven by land, but that'll be slower, and they'll be risking walking right into us."
"And our attacks that they cannot even anticipate."
Starkhaven.
Prince Sebastian hated—hated—leaving his city in its hour of need. When word had reached him of the approach of the apostates' ships from the east and the army from the southwest, he had agreed with his advisors about what it meant: The mages' forces were targeting Starkhaven, the richest and most populous city in the Free Marches. He had been ready and willing to lead amid a siege and physically defend his people if it came to it. Few in the city could match his skill with a bow.
But then, merely a few days later, after forces were committed and a menacing line of Kirkwall ships faced Starkhaven on three sides, the second bit of news arrived, very dire news indeed. The army's movement had been a feint. Once his people had taken the bait and committed the majority of their forces to defend Starkhaven—once it was too late to turn back—Hawke had turned abruptly toward Tantervale.
He cursed himself inwardly for not seeing it. He just could not have imagined that they would have divided their forces this way. What could possibly have made them so confident? They had retaken Dairsmuid, yes... but his people had not lost that many Seekers or Templars compared to their reserves in Tantervale and Starkhaven. What did Hawke have that gave her such assurance? He did not know, and after the way she had broken the Siege of Kirkwall, the unknown terrified him.
Starkhaven had support now. It had, Maker help it, the seven thousand soldiers, mostly regulars, but a few legions of Templars. Tantervale had the remaining four thousand, which might be a match for Hawke... but, but, that terrifying, terrible unknown...
Sebastian's duty was clear. He hated leaving his city, but his Divine needed him. Elthina had needed him in Kirkwall in Dragon 9:34 when he had saved her from execution, and she needed him again now.
He knew all the secret ways in and out of the city. It was not the first time his sinful rogue days had been useful. In that time of his life, he had consorted with people who had shown him things that he might never have learned as a pampered aristocrat. He could leave Starkhaven undetected at a secret north entrance and ride hard for Tantervale along the southern bank of the river.
The sky was a beautiful crystal blue with only a few puffy clouds to hide the brilliant sunlight. Sebastian could barely think about that as he spurred his horse onward. On a better day, he might have thought of the beauty of the natural world as a gift of the Maker to His children, perhaps even a sign of the Maker's approval. Now, though, he could comfort himself with no such ideas. Thousands of people saw this weather; if it even had anything to do with the Maker's will, who was to say it wasn't the Maker smiling upon them instead?
Who is to say the Maker doesn't smile upon the mage army? The thought entered his head against his will, and guilt prickled him even as the idea passed through his mind. Perhaps if we ever had the Maker's support, He has withdrawn it after the atrocity at the Tantervale Circle.
Two days had passed by the time Sebastian approached Tantervale. The glittering lights of the sister city appeared on the horizon, and Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief.
But not for long. He squinted at something in the distance. A frown passed over his face at the sight of many more lights a few miles south of Tantervale. This is the mage army. They are here. I must do what I can now.
The Free Mages and their allies had marched onward, hurrying as best they could. Although Caitlyn had split the entire army roughly evenly between her force and Aveline's, she had kept more mages for herself. When they had set off for Dairsmuid, Aveline's force was composed of the two thousand Fereldans Caitlyn had requested of her ally, fifteen hundred soldiers from Kirkwall and its other allies, and fifteen hundred mages. Her own force had fifteen hundred soldiers and three thousand five hundred mages. She knew that the feats she meant them to perform would require immense amounts of magic. They were going to lay siege to a city by land alone, enhance the trajectory and impact of extremely powerful weapons, and manipulate natural features on a large scale, particularly the Minanter. This amount of magical power meant that Caitlyn's army could use spells to speed their course and ease their burdens.
Thus it happened that the Free Mages reached the northern reaches of the Wildervale far faster than the rebel Templars and schism could reasonably expect. At nightfall Caitlyn bade the vast force halt atop a high hill—almost a mountain—in the vale. In the distance, Tantervale glittered, and beyond that, the Minanter flowed smoothly, a wide ribbon of dark blue.
Her lieutenants knew what to do. Sketch, Caspar Waite, Merrill, and Charade gave orders to the artillery teams to take the ballistae out and set up the rocket launchers, though the explosive missiles themselves would not be loaded until the army was close enough to strike a valuable target.
Flora Harimann also had wanted to come along. Her presence was a source of shame throughout the march for Caitlyn, who wondered just what it was that the young woman meant to do.
"Do you think you need to make amends to me for something?" Caitlyn had asked her in bewilderment before they had left Kirkwall. The idea was grotesque. If Flora had owed her anything, that debt was long paid with her and her relatives' protracted imprisonment without evidence or trial.
"I... do feel guilty about my mother's actions," Flora had admitted. "She led mage supremacists. She colluded with Tevinter slavers! She could have killed you that day, and countless innocent mages would have paid the price. Though I am not a mage, mage blood runs through my veins. I might someday have mage children. Yes, I feel that I owe what aid I can give to this cause."
"And what aid do you think you can give?"
Flora had hesitated. "My family used to be friends with the Vaels. If Prince Sebastian will still listen to anyone other than Elthina, it would be someone he once considered a friend."
Caitlyn's paranoid side did wonder all along about treachery. Flora's affect was not that of an intriguer, and Caitlyn did not even get the feeling of insincere ingratiation that she had from Flora's mother. This girl did seem completely ingenuous and open. But treachery wore many masks, Caitlyn knew, and she resolved to keep her eyes open all the same.
Still, if Flora could persuade Sebastian Vael to give up Elthina and the Templar malefactors who had committed the murders, and he himself was not complicit in these things, it would be good. Caitlyn did not want to let Sebastian or Chancellor Orrick continue to rule, but she knew that if they survived the battles, the only alternative was execution. She did not want to do that unless they truly deserved it. Even her execution of Harlan and Lusine had been deserved, cruelty of the method and dictatorial lawlessness of the secrecy aside. Maker, even the executed playwrights had been guilty of trying to incite people against her in violence. She did not want to put people to death for pure expediency. It left a sour taste in her mouth to consider letting Vael and Orrick keep power, but it might be that the only way to bring her adversaries into a defense pact that they would actually respect was to let the current lords continue—if they were innocent of the atrocities.
The creak of machinery brought Caitlyn back to the present, and she realized that she had let her thoughts wander. She looked at the equipment as her lieutenants directed its setup and the teams cleaned and calibrated it. They have this in hand. She gave the four leaders a grin of approval and left it to them. This is the night before a major battle begins, a battle that will change the course of Thedosian history for mages. I need to be with Anders tonight.
Anders had tied up his horse next to hers and was giving the animals some healing and regeneration spells. Caitlyn smiled at his thoughtfulness toward person and animal alike. He is at his best as a Healer, she thought.
As if to remind her of the contrast, demon to a spirit, the clink of machinery continued in the background, her husband's other genius and legacy. She felt her heart darken at the thought. It never should have been necessary, she thought with a sudden rush of anger. He never should have needed to develop that talent. We shouldn't have had to spill so much blood just to live free lives, and the worst, I fear, is yet to come. The lights of Tantervale glittered faintly in the distance, as if to remind her of exactly what "the worst" could entail. Anders shouldn't have had to become a designer of mass-killing weapons. He is a Healer. The Maker meant him to be a Healer. This is the opposite of healing. This should not, would not, have happened in a just world.
Just like I never should have had to become a ruthless authoritarian leader. That is the opposite of freedom. This war has made monsters of us both, and yet, we both had to become so to win the fight.
Anders finished restoring the horses' stamina and healing their muscle strains. He turned to her with a sad smile. His eyes were wide and dark, pupils dilated from the lack of bright light. Deep emotion was written on every line of his face. "I wish Mal and Jo were here," he said quietly.
She didn't contradict him, pretty sure that she knew where this was going.
"I know that they can't be," he continued, "that if anything happens to us—if we don't make it back—they will still be alive and will have family. But... I wish they could be here." He choked up, but tried to smother the urge to cry. Caitlyn put her arms around his waist and held him gently until he stilled his shaking. "I wish we could talk to them tonight. We're going to be at the city gates tomorrow." He gazed into the distance at Tantervale for a moment before a sudden anguish overtook him—as if he too knew what was coming with respect to the city and the weapons. A half-gasp, half-sob escaped him.
He turned away sharply, took her hands in a desperate, needy grab, and pulled her toward their tent. She did not fight. She wanted to be alone with him too. It was becoming too much to contemplate otherwise. Tonight, this one last night of innocence, she wanted to be with him, to think of nothing but them. He pulled back the flap of the tent to let her inside, gentlemanly as always, and put up privacy wards once they were inside.
She lay on their wide bedroll next to him and nestled close to him, allowing him to hold her and holding him in turn. Finally she replied to him. "We'll either take the city peacefully if they surrender the killers and monsters among them, or... we'll besiege them with our magic, the bombs, and the rockets. It'll be over soon, and you and I shouldn't be fighting personally."
"I know, but still."
Caitlyn nodded. "I know how you feel. But we'll be home soon and can tell them about our adventures and our victory."
He managed a weak smile.
"They do have to be kept safe, though," she said, agreeing with his earlier remark. "We'll have three legacies: a better and more prosperous Kirkwall, freedom for Andrastian Chantry mages, and the children. They are our personal legacy: the legacy of our flesh and blood, our loins... our love."
Anders laughed and pulled her closer. "I like it when you talk dirty to me."
"That wasn't dirty," she protested. "You just have a dirty mind."
He smirked and cradled her in his arms, nuzzling the top of her head gently.
It was strange, Caitlyn thought, to feel desires at this time... though maybe, in fact, it isn't, she corrected herself. Actually, it was quite common for those at war to want to do this just before a major battle. Anders' caresses were very sensual, the heat of his body and comfort of his embrace were beginning to overwhelm her, and right now, her desire for him was burgeoning rapidly.
They were lying side by side in an embrace, but she quickly moved her hands to his waist, holding him in a firm grip as she rolled them over. She wanted him on top this time. When she managed to sandwich herself between the bedroll—their covers loosely and messily tossed about—and the pressure of his body, a rush of desire flooded her. Her breath caught in her chest.
Anders gazed down upon her, his familiar smirk settling on his face. He leaned in, pressing himself against her head to toe, entwining their legs, making sure that she could feel every buckle and flap on his coat even through her drakeskin armor. His breath was hot next to her face, and she caught a brief glimpse of those amber eyes before he took her face gently in his hands and kissed her deeply. His tongue forced her lips open as he pressed his body hard against hers. He knew what she wanted—knew how she took comfort from the intensity of being entirely overcome, physically dominated, at times, and this was clearly such a time.
He had to reluctantly break the kiss, because this was rapidly getting him extremely aroused, and his pants were starting to tighten. He pulled back, breaking the lip-lock with moans from them both, and got on his knees to unfasten his coat. Caitlyn had begun to work on her armor, unfastening the buckles, her chest heaving as she tried to control her breathing. Anders smiled knowingly down at her as he flung his coat aside.
He was out of his tunic, boots, and pants before she had divested herself of the armor. Her fingers fumbled at a clasp on her left side. Anders took her hands in his own, moved them aside—which she allowed without fighting—and skillfully unbuckled the piece himself. It enabled him to lift the chestpiece off her, revealing the thin, soft undergarments she wore for comfort—and beneath that, heated, soft skin.
Anders bent down and kissed her passionately, pulling the chemise off her shoulders, exposing her breasts. His hands continued to work on her armor as his tongue and lips elicited groans and thrashes from her. To her, there was something unbelievably arousing about this situation: her chest exposed, the thin soft fabric pooled loosely around her waist, while the dry pads of his fingertips worked at the drakeskin armor which still covered her legs and lower body, a sharp contrast with the fabric and her smooth skin. That very contrast of texture, combined with his touches, was rapidly driving her wild.
At last he unbuckled the armor, casting it off the bedroll in relief. Caitlyn sank into the cushion again, opening her legs almost involuntarily. She knew just how ready she was; her desire was slippery between her thighs, and she was quite sure he knew it.
He did. As he moved back to settle himself between her legs, both of them free now of the restricting clothes and armor, he gave her a truly wicked look for a moment. Then, before she even processed what he was doing, he slid his right hand into her most sensitive place.
She gasped as he stroked her there, two fingertips slipping quickly in and out of her. "Don't—you—dare tease me, Anders!" she managed.
He smiled, withdrawing his hand and licking his fingers lewdly. "I don't mean to, darling." He bent over, placing his hands on either side of her, one pressed into the bedroll right next to each of her shoulders. His presence was overwhelming. His face was right there, those warm passionate eyes of his—that toned body that she knew so very, very well by now, mere inches away from her own, their heat mingling, her core practically throbbing with expectation—
He filled her with one stroke. She hissed in pleasure as they began to move together. His hands were everywhere, on her sides and her breasts, pressing her against the bedroll to keep her from thrashing about. Her legs somehow wrapped around his waist and then were forced apart and into an even higher angle, letting him push even deeper. She felt completely, utterly joined with him right now, in all senses of the word, and it was sublime.
He was in control at first, but as their movements became increasingly wild and uncontrolled, that confident smile on his face fell away, replaced with a look of desperation and need as acute as hers. He began gasping and groaning almost incoherently too.
"No—Anders—harder," she moaned as he almost seemed to fall back. He gazed desperately at her, but, with a sudden surge of stamina and determination, renewed the vigor of his movements. He took a sudden sharp intake of breath and remembered, at last, that he was a mage. Sparks formed on his palms, and, with a brief return of that smirk, he pressed his hands abruptly against her side, sending mild jolts through her.
She gasped and thrashed in his hands—but as the tingle of charge subsided, she regained control of herself and her magic. Her palms frosted over with little white crystals. He noticed, and his eyes widened for a moment, but he could not stop her—he was too lost to his own pleasure, and he would not have wanted to stop her even if he could have. He shivered and shuddered in pleasure as she pressed her palms against his back, the sensation of cold striking him and then turning rapidly into the sensation of water droplets trickling down his back. She ran her hands slowly down his skin, following the rivulets she had made.
It did not actually last unusually long, but it was so intense that it seemed like forever for them both. Their peaks came like the crashing of immense waves onshore, and after just a couple moments, the two collapsed into each other, breathing heavily, soaked with water and sweat, thoroughly satisfied.
Anders gave her another kiss as soon as he could move. Neither of them wanted to bother with nightclothes. It was plenty warm enough. They just pulled the covers over their bodies and nestled against each other in the nude.
"You are the most amazing person I've ever met," he murmured against the shell of her left ear, "and I love you."
She wrapped her arms around his back. "I love you too," she murmured, "but you are the amazing one."
He chuckled and kissed her lightly, one more time. "Let's call it even."
She smiled back and cuddled close against him as they finally nodded off.
The next day.
"Free Mages of Thedas, patriots of Kirkwall, and loyal allies!" Caitlyn called out, her voice amplified by a spell. Her red cape waved dramatically in the wind as she raised her staff high. "Before us is the stronghold of our enemy, the place where those who split from the Chantry rather than countenancing any rights for mages went to elect a false Divine. The place where the rebel Templars and Seekers have retreated to plot our continued subjugation! The place"—she paused for dramatic effect before roaring in fury—"where those who slaughtered innocents here, in Starkhaven, and in Dairsmuid now hide!"
This produced the intended effect. The mages roared in turn, staves and fists raised high. Someone waved the banner of the Free Mages. Caitlyn turned to Anders to continue.
"Here, at last, we will win our freedom, in such a way that no one will dare try to take it away from us again! Here, at last, justice will be served!" he snarled, raising his own staff in the air. This also elicited a roar of approval. Only Caitlyn knew what it meant when a flicker of blue lightning passed over his neck. "Not a single priest, Templar, or Seeker of this false Chantry, or anyone who helped slaughter innocent mages, will walk free! Many speak of the Maker's justice. That, however, is for the Maker to deal out in His time. We intend to deliver earthly justice, natural justice, upon these murderers!" Another roar ensued.
Caitlyn raised her staff fiercely again as the noise subsided. "When the lords of Tantervale accept these terms, this war will end. But," she said darkly, "while they continue to shelter murderers, oppressors, and blasphemers, we will deliver upon their city a wrath unlike any the world has ever seen!"
The eruption of applause that this speech generated dwarfed all the preceding roars. Caitlyn and Anders joined in the cries, linking their hands and raising their staves. Their hearts swelled and tears of emotion formed in the corners of their eyes as they yelled.
"Mages!" Caitlyn roared even as the army continued to yell. Her voice carried over the din. "We march upon the Minanter! They think it a northern bulwark that we cannot breach. They will see how wrong they are! Frost teams to the fore! We're going to freeze it and surround them with no escape!"
The frost elementalists were ready for this and did not have to realign themselves. They were just behind a vanguard of spearmen. The army moved forward like a mass of fog, reaching the river quickly. Several hundred frost mages moved ahead of the spear line and raised their staves. The air grew cold around them, and tiny snow flurries began to form.
The hints of winter suddenly exploded into a full-force freezing spell cast upon the water by hundreds of mages at once. The Minanter was a mile wide, but the spells were powerful enough to freeze it a third of the way across. A sheet of ice formed, white frost lines shooting across the layer under the surface. Near the banks, the ice was more than thick enough to walk upon, and the mages did just that.
When they were as far out as they could go safely, they cast the spell again, freezing two-thirds of the width of the river. About a quarter of the army began to walk forward across the ice, while the other part remained on the south side. The northern legion had two wagons of rockets and bombs, of which they lightened the weight with force spells in case they weighed too much for the ice, but most explosives remained on the south side. The elementalists continued their march, freezing the Minanter River all the way to the north side.
Caitlyn did not intend to waste the winter mages' mana—or lyrium—by having them keep the river frozen through a siege. The point was simply to get people north of the city, to prevent Tantervale from sending anyone to an undefended north shore. The army split, a gap forming as the stragglers of the north legion hurried across the frozen river and the south legion remained behind. Caitlyn and Anders stayed on the south side.
The north legion fanned out, splitting west and east. If Tantervale sent any ships to Starkhaven, they would fall under attack from both the north and the south shores. And sailing down the middle of the river to maximize the distance from the attacks will not avail them. Every lord, priest, and Templar officer in that wretched city either knows now, or will soon learn, that water is no problem for hundreds of frost mages, Caitlyn thought resolutely.
The Grand Cathedral of Tantervale.
The hastily assembled war council of the Orthodox Chantry was quickly devolving into panic.
"Did you see that?" Chancellor Joffrey Orrick exclaimed. He gaped out the high window once again. The Minanter was beginning to thaw along the edges of the mages' massive freezing spells, but the river was still a sheet of white ice nearly a mile in all directions. It was Harvestmere, but this was too far north for that. The Minanter Valley was warm. The river never froze over. "They froze the river! That has never happened before even in winter!"
"Such is the terrible power of magic," Elthina, Divine Fidelia, said tightly. She was attempting to be calm, a beacon of faith and confidence in the midst of this panic, but she was visibly distressed too.
"Yes, Most Holy, but what it means is that we are surrounded!"
"And Starkhaven is under attack too!" Prince Sebastian, who had recently arrived and was still out of breath, exclaimed. "The Kirkwall fleet made for my city from the east and must have encircled it by now! I do not know if we can expect any aid from Starkhaven. The army movement toward Starkhaven was a mere feint," he said lamely. "Obviously."
Knight-Commander Denam slammed his mailed fist on the table. "I say we send out a legion of Red Templars! We can deal with the robes better than anyone. Red lyrium negates magic like nothing else. Let me do this, Most Holy," he begged Elthina.
She looked caught. There was no avoiding the fact that her victories had come in the absence of Kirkwall's mage army. Hasmal, First Dairsmuid—there the army had not faced Caitlyn Hawke's. Whenever her forces had faced the army that was now at Tantervale's walls on all sides, they had lost, and in increasingly deadly ways with each battle.
However, Sebastian had the right of it. Starkhaven likely could not come to their aid. They had taken the bait and marched right into the mages' trap, sending large numbers to Starkhaven, where they had all believed an epic battle for the ages was taking shape. Elthina rued the mistake, but she honestly could not see that she could have done anything else with the information that had been available at the time. Any choice, including doing nothing, was a gamble during a potential enemy feint. It might turn out not to be a feint.
Well, recriminations were useless. Caitlyn Hawke and Anders had simply outsmarted her this time. The majority of their forces were now bottled up in Starkhaven, while a vast army with terrifyingly immense powers of magic—and very likely more of that abyssal explosive—was here. But the war was not over, and it was time to take a risk. If they could just hold off this army, perhaps the Starkhaven forces could break the probable blockade and come to their rescue, crushing the mages and ending the war.
"Give the order to your Red Templars, Knight-Commander," Elthina said, turning to him, even as Sebastian grimaced. To this day, he did not like Red Templars, and he seemed to have a personal dislike of Denam now. Elthina resolved to speak to him about that as soon as she could—or perhaps, if the Maker showed His favor and let the Red Templars defeat this mage army, that would convince him at last.
The Free Mage front lines.
"Your Graces! Red Templars approaching!"
Caitlyn and Anders exchanged sour looks at Sketch's report. Sure enough, something was pouring out of the city gates due north, on this side of the river. They raised their spyglasses to confirm it. At least five hundred Red Templars marched out, including the types that had lost their human forms to red lyrium. The ones that were still human gleamed with sinister red lights in their armor, their blades, and even in the air around them, hairline red bolts crackled.
She and Anders lowered their spyglasses and shared a look of utter exasperation and impatience.
"About five hundred, not nearly enough to destroy us, but enough to do serious damage if they target the mages—as I'm sure they intend to. They must mean to keep us occupied and whittle us down while they wait for Starkhaven to outlast Aveline," she snarled. "I am not going to have the Free Mages waste their lyrium or their lives with this shit." Anders raised his eyebrows at her use of profanity before the officers; she clearly was irritated. She narrowed her gaze in resolution and turned to the artillery team. They already had a trebuchet set up, she noted. "Fire the bombs and launch them at incoming Red Templars! Force mages, give them some additional loft!"
The mages helped unload the round bombs, lifting them with their spells. The first one was loaded into the trebuchet and its wick lit. The spark sizzled down the wick as the machinery creaked and the mages applied force spells to the moving arm.
The bomb flew into the air, leaving a thin trail of smoke. It landed with a thud amid the Red Templars. Less than a second later, it exploded in a flurry of dirt, shrapnel, red lyrium, and flesh. The Red Templars' line was broken—but they continued to advance.
"Another!" Caitlyn roared. "Ballista teams, ready bolts and target the inhuman ones!"
"They make bigger targets," Anders added, his gaze hard and angry.
Another bomb soon exploded, taking out several more Red Templars just as ballista bolts started to tear through the incoming infantry. One bolt exploded through a Red Templar that was so far gone that he—or perhaps she—looked like a gigantic red-lyrium golem. Shards of the foul substance went flying.
Anders scowled. "We'll have to freeze and burn this place. That filth can probably feed on the earth. It can certainly feed on bodies."
That was an excellent point, Caitlyn thought, but for now she had other things to worry about. Perhaps she should set the enemy in charge of cleaning up their own land after the war, anyway. This wasn't her doing. She might have accidentally found the substance in the Deep Roads, but she had not brought the original idol out, nor purchased it and turned it into a sword, nor harnessed it in runes and armor, nor harvested it from its own victims.
Although reduced in number, Red Templars were still approaching. "Take them out!" Caitlyn screamed. "Entropy! Confusion, Horror—make them panic! Artillery, keep at them!"
Ballistae twanged, the trebuchet creaked, bombs exploded, and when the Red Templars were close enough, the thaumaturgists and hexers targeted their minds. It was an ugly fight, because Red Templars were tenacious—the foul substance that they took giving them unnatural strength and stamina even as it fed on their bodies and minds—but at last, the few dozen survivors, all still human-looking and hence rational, began to run back to Tantervale.
Caitlyn wiped her brow of sweat. She had not lost anyone in this fight, but she had used more bombs than she liked against such a small force. She took a look at the written inventory and glowered. Only eighty-five left. At least we have all the rockets, she thought. And the ballista teams can recover their bolts and probably reuse them. We'll need to be sure that they are cleaned of red lyrium, but nothing that they hit should have dulled them.
She rallied her spirits. "We sent a message!" she called out to the army. "We killed over four hundred Red Templars, depriving the enemy of that strength, and let them know that they won't have it easy!" The army cheered. "Now take rest as the officers, my husband, and I discuss our next move."
She and Anders beckoned for Sketch, Waite, Charade, Merrill, and—after thinking for a moment—Flora Harimann to draw close to them, out of the hearing of everyone else.
"We need to be smart about this," Caitlyn said grimly. "We used fifteen bombs just to take out those Red Templars. I'm not sure, now, that that was the right choice. Maybe I should have set a mage team on them."
Anders disagreed. "They are terribly destructive used against mages, and if we are using up a resource to defeat them, better for it to be things rather than people."
She gave him a grateful look. Yes, she thought, brought up short, thank you for reminding me of that. I was thinking as a war leader, considering "resources," and I lost sight of the fact that some resources are people. To the group she said, "Anders is right, and thank you, love, for reminding me of what truly matters. But the fact remains that we have to be judicious and smart about this siege. Those walls are made of granite. The point, of course, is to defend Tantervale against conquest from Tevinter or the Qunari." And when this war is over, that is a very good reason why I will want Tantervale in my Free Marcher defense alliance. "They won't come crumbling down. Targeting the base might blast holes here and there, but it would be trivial to defend small gaps against an invasion. We should not waste a single bomb on such efforts."
"The rockets will fly right over the walls, love. It's why we built them."
He seemed awfully eager to use them, shockingly so in contrast with the consideration for the army mages that he had just shown. She knew that they would almost certainly have to use them. But she did want to exhaust all the peaceful possibilities first, and that was why she had called Charade and Flora.
Caitlyn took a deep breath. "And I will use them if Tantervale does not surrender on our terms. But I do want to give them the opportunity first."
His gaze became fixed. "Cait, they sent out Red Templars to attack us. We have no obligation to offer them parley now. They began the violence."
That representation of it startled Caitlyn, but it also resolved the moral conflict within her. The enemy had attacked first. Their freezing of the river was not an attack, just an army movement. The enemy had sent out its worst, Red Templars, without making any offer of parley. Anders was right. It was time to just send them the message.
"You're right," she told him, her tones suddenly as clear as her eyes. "You are absolutely right." Anders smiled grimly.
Flora Harimann spoke up uneasily. "Your Graces... with all due respect, I thought that we were going to..." She broke off.
Caitlyn turned to her, the plan forming in her mind as she spoke. "They attacked first, Flora. We're going to retaliate, and we're going to use the rockets for it. But after one volley of that, we will call a brief ceasefire. They might be more amenable to surrender after they know what we can do."
Flora nodded, unhappy, but seeing the logic. Caitlyn turned to Anders. "Let's do it. They're yours, my love. Your genius. You give the order. I wouldn't take that from you."
Anders turned to the artillery teams that were in charge of the rocket wagons—their cargo still covered by metal wagon tops—and the launchers, which stood empty for the time being. His dark cape billowed behind his coat in the light breeze. "You heard her!" he called out. "Ready five rockets. Smallest ones, for now." He walked over to a table that had been set up next to one of the launchers. The highly detailed map of Tantervale that he had been marking with attack points back in Kirkwall was laid out, with the army's positions now marked on it as well. He studied the map briefly before gazing up with a determined look. "There is an armory just inside the walls on the west side of the city. Let's target it. If we take it out, it won't be just a demonstration of our capabilities, but will have destroyed a valuable target."
"Slight wind from the west," one of the mages in charge of the rockets noted. Others began unbolting the metal tops from the wagon with the small rockets inside.
"We'll compensate for that with force magic," Anders assured him.
The small rockets were easy to lift and load into the launchers. Even a mage could do it, provided that it was a force mage. In no time, the team had the objects positioned and were adjusting the wooden apparatus to the proper angle, according to the calculations matching rocket size and launch angle to a particular travel distance.
"Fire them!" Anders called out, his face suddenly twisting and a blue lightning streak darting over it. He did not stand by, but immediately stepped over to the apparatus and took a match to light one himself.
This was a historical moment, albeit a grim one, and Caitlyn knew that she did not want to miss it. She stood next to him and lit the wick of the next one.
The wicks sizzled with sparks and fire. Caitlyn and Anders held their breath beside the others. It seemed that the entire army was waiting, even those far in the distance.
Anders readied an invisible force spell between his hands as the sparks reached the wick's end at the base of the rocket shell. He cast it at the very moment that the sparks reached the canister of propelling powder inside the shell. With five loud booms in quick succession, the weapons took to the sky, five metal dragons seeking prey.
The Tantervale Armory.
The remainder of the city army, those who had not been sent to defend Starkhaven—from a feint, it turned out—were hurrying under barked orders from their officers to ready their siege defenses. Hawke's mages had decimated the Red Templar force that had been sent out. The orders from above—the Chancellor, the Prince of Starkhaven, Divine Fidelia—were not to engage Hawke in a pitched battle, because that was risking everything. Instead the plan was to fortify the city against a siege and hope that Starkhaven could break its own siege in time to rescue them and destroy the apostate army at their walls.
The soldiers were preparing vast quantities of boiling oil, bolts, arrows, ballistae, catapults—the usual works for defending against a siege. Everyone was uneasy about the possibility that the apostate army might have brought their terrifying explosive, but they took heart in the fact that Tantervale's walls were designed long ago to hold the city against Tevinter or the Qunari. They were granite and reinforced steel, and when they were built, dwarven hirelings had affixed armor runes on the inside all around the city. Iron Qunari cannonballs shattered against them. Even the mages' bombs surely could not destroy these walls. They would waste them futilely, the thinking went.
No one quite processed what they saw when the first rocket soared over the walls as if they were not even there. Soldiers stood gaping at the strange object as it loudly spewed smoke and fire. What was that? Were the mages sending flaming bundles of wood from a trebuchet—a trebuchet clearly bigger and more powerful than any they had ever seen before, to top the walls? What could they hope to accomplish just by setting fires in the outer ring, easily extinguished?
"Incoming!" yelled a captain. "Prepare for fire! Ready barrels of water!"
The rocket struck about a hundred feet east of the armory. It exploded in a concussive, deadly blast, killing the soldiers within range and deafening many more from ruptured eardrums. The captain stood gaping, not believing his own eyes and ears.
Then four more sailed over the walls, screaming from the pressure within their casing, spewing flames, sparks, and smoke that reeked of drakestone. One hit near the armory, blowing up more equipment and killing more people.
Three struck the building directly.
The captain and his people gaped in horror. With a rapid series of explosive booms, in less than a second the center of the Tantervale Armory transformed from roof, walls, and supplies into hot and lethally fast-moving debris. Several more soldiers were killed instantly as shards shredded them. Now compromised, the rest of the building teetered for a moment before collapsing inward. A vast cloud of dust, tinged with orange from the flames, kicked up, spreading down the outermost ring of Tantervale.
The captain finally came to his senses. He could not comprehend what he had just seen, but it was clear enough that the walls were not the protection he had thought them to be. "Fall back!" he roared.
What in the Maker's name had the mages created now?
The front lines.
Caitlyn and Anders turned to each other with grimly satisfied looks. "That should give them something to think about," Anders remarked as he peered through his spyglass. Blocked by the walls, they could not tell if the rockets had made a direct hit on the armory, but the cloud of dust that the explosions had kicked up now towered higher than those walls. Smoke plumes also towered from within the outer ring.
"Yes, it should," she agreed. She spurred her horse. "I'm going to call the ceasefire now—if they agree."
"I'm with you, love." He mounted his pale grayish horse and spurred it next to hers. Together they rode up as close as was safe, close enough for anyone still at the walls to hear their voices with spells to amplify them. The flags of Kirkwall and the Free Mages were attached to her and his horses' saddles respectively.
"Tantervale!" Caitlyn called out in hard, determined tones when she had halted her horse. "You have now seen for yourselves what we can do, and I assure you that we are prepared to do it if necessary! We have many more of these rockets, and those that topped your walls were among the smallest that we have. But we will use them only if you force this decision. We seek only our own freedom, and vengeance for the innocent who were slain. We offer a ceasefire until sunset for you to reconsider if this is a battle that you truly want to fight. This is your one chance; we will not make this offer again." She paused for a moment before adding, "And if you break the ceasefire early, we have a great deal more where those explosions came from."
The Grand Cathedral.
The rumors were ghastly and terrifying. Hundreds of people—sober-minded people, guards and soldiers—had seen metal tubes shooting through the air faster than any creature could fly, trailing smoke and sparks behind them, sailing over the walls as easily as birds—and then, less than a few seconds later, landing on or near the Tantervale Armory, obliterating it in explosions much like the reports of the survivors of the Siege of Kirkwall.
Sebastian Vael shivered. Surely the mages could not have such things? Surely the explosions that took out the armory were just the bombs that they knew about, the ones the mages used in the Kirkwall siege, lofted by an immense trebuchet or by magic? Surely it was impossible that they could fly of their own accord?
And yet, it was far from impossible. He had not been present for the explosions that destroyed the greater part of the fleet and blew up several units of his army until the remainder fled for their lives. But the survivors who had witnessed the blasts had told their tales in vivid, graphic detail. The explosions could propel material through the air at great speed. If Hawke—no, more likely, if Anders had been able somehow to harness that—
He shivered again. Tantervale will fall, and Starkhaven is under siege. If the fleet besieging my city is carrying these terror weapons too...
He could not finish the thought. I have to try to save this city from that, he thought. And Starkhaven. If we end the war here, they will surely lift the siege of Starkhaven. I must protect my people.
That will mean surrendering. It will mean giving victory to Hawke.
For a moment he revolted against that thought. What was the point of four years of war, untold sacrifices, if it ended like this? All the soldiers, Templars, Seekers, and—yes—mages who had fought and fallen would have died in vain.
The losers of a war die in vain, a dark little voice told him. Unless the leaders of that side manage to negotiate decent terms in surrender. The Red Templars cannot be trusted to do so, and Hawke and Anders hate Elthina and will not treat fairly with her either. It is up to me. The Maker placed me in this seat for a reason. He struggled with the idea. I did not ever consider—I did not ever want to consider—that it could be this reason, but so it must be. I am not a priest, Templar, or Seeker. I do not personally have mage blood on my hands, the thing that must enrage them most of all. I have even disapproved of some of the things my side has done, such as the Annulment of Tantervale. I will tell them so if they ask or accuse me. They might talk to me. Holding onto that hope, Sebastian girded himself for what he was about to do.
Divine Fidelia, Elthina as he had long known her, gazed back at him with cool contempt as he spoke. He tried to put that aside. She is not guilty. The Red Templars have lied to her, he kept telling himself.
"Your Perfection," he said gravely and anxiously, "I never thought I would say this—I never wanted to say this—but we..." He swallowed hard. "We need to make terms if we can."
Elthina raised her eyebrows. "You have lost faith now, Sebastian?"
"It is... not about my faith," he hedged. "Faith in the Maker, the true Chantry, in righteousness—these things are different from the belief that the Maker will intervene with a personal miracle. He has never done so in history. When armies have faced the darkspawn, the Qunari, the Tevinters... the Maker did not miraculously intercede. The outcome of such battles depended on who had the superior force. And you heard Hawke. I doubt she is lying about her capabilities, so we do not want to undergo a siege from her force."
Elthina gazed at him in disappointment. "Sebastian," she scolded, "in all their long history, the dwarves never managed to make flying bombs. I know the rumors that are circulating," she said dismissively. "But people are not always rational in war. In terror and panic, they may think they saw something very different from what they actually saw. What Hawke has done must be a trick of magic. Spells to enhance the reach of a trebuchet just enough to top our walls. If they had the ability to attack the city proper, why didn't they? Why only send these bombs to a target just barely inside our walls? She hopes to frighten you into surrendering."
"Most Holy," Sebastian pleaded desperately, "you are taking a grave risk based on these assumptions. We know that Hawke has a terrible explosive. In all likelihood, she has harnessed the power of the blasts it generates. Her threat is credible! I beg of you, you must let me get you to safety and allow the city to surrender. We might be able to make terms that will satisfy even the Templars and Seekers, if we sue for peace." The words were bitter on his tongue, but he knew that the time had come. Innocent lives were at stake.
She shook her head. "Surrender to that apostate couple and their rebellious force? No. There was a time when I might have felt pity for the mages, but this war has proven that magic allows abuses beyond the scope of mortals. For a thousand years they submitted to the Chantry, but now that they have tasted freedom, they are full of greed and arrogance. They would not have put themselves under Hawke and Anders' command if they meant to compromise with the Templars. They mean to destroy the system, and with Justinia's heresy, we alone stand for the truth about magic that Andraste taught. I cannot turn on my Templars, on the very words of Andraste, for fear. No matter how justified that fear might be." Her voice spoke dismissal. "Go in peace, Sebastian."
He left the office feeling numb. The Red Templars have gotten to her, he thought desperately. It is up to me. It is truly up to me. I must do this alone.
"Your Grace! A small group of people bearing a white flag! They say they snuck out of the city, and that Prince Sebastian Vael is among them."
"A peace embassy?" Sketch asked.
"It seems so," Anders said as Caitlyn bade the messenger wait. "We showed them what we are capable of. Maybe at least a few of them have had second thoughts about trying to tough it out." He considered. "I wish they had come openly, though. The secrecy means that there are a lot of people in positions of power who don't want to treat with us."
"That was the case in Hercinia as well," Caitlyn recalled. "But the Mercantilist leader wanted power herself, and we gave her a reason to effect a coup at last. What could Sebastian Vael want that's comparable?"
"If the prince is willing to talk with us in secret, I think we should give him a chance and see what he has to say," Sketch said.
Merrill spoke up. "I agree. He is at least willing to hear us. That counts for something."
Caitlyn turned to Charade and Flora. "Charade, you spent years in Tantervale. Flora, you counted the Vael family as friends. I would like you both to be at this parley and to speak if something comes to you. Not to undermine my official terms, of course, but to use every advantage you have to work on Sebastian emotionally."
Flora nodded.
"Granted, he refused to believe that Elthina was guilty of treason against my predecessor, Viscount Dumar, even with evidence in her own handwriting. I'm perfectly aware that you may not be able to get through to him. But I would like to believe, based on what I knew of him when he was in Kirkwall, that he wouldn't approve of Red Templars, of the Annulments—and that he'd be willing to consider terms of surrender."
"Sebastian was a very roguish man when I knew his family," Flora warned. "He had not turned to the Maker. But he was never wicked even in those days, just... rakish. Carefree."
Flora and Charade waited as Caitlyn wrote her ultimatum. She passed it to Anders, Sketch, Waite, and Merrill for their input, and when they were all satisfied with it, she rolled the final version into a scroll and sealed it in wax. She directed the messenger to return to the embassy to accept the parley.
"Flora Harimann!"
Flora glared back at Sebastian Vael. "Yes, it's me. And this is Charade Amell."
Sebastian started at the surname. "Then you are..."
"The cousin of Viscountess Hawke," Charade said bluntly. "I suppose you are here to parley."
Sebastian swallowed hard. "Yes," he said. "Your weapons were... a shock to us. I must protect my people... and Most Holy."
Caitlyn's gaze hardened. "Prince Sebastian, Elthina is complicit in murder. It is long past time you faced what she truly is. She must face justice."
No, Sebastian thought, trying to put aside his most recent memory of Elthina, cold and hard-eyed. No. The Red Templars have manipulated her.
Flora reached out her hands imploringly, as if in prayer. "Prince Sebastian. We were friends, long ago. The man I knew would not approve of things such as the Annulments. You are a good person. You must know that the side you fight for is not good. You must have had doubts."
He scowled, but it was clearly because he did not want to admit the truth of her words. "What of the side you fight for?" he said evasively. "Your chosen Grand Cleric has burned her enemies at the stake! Viscountess Hawke, tales of how you have governed Kirkwall have spread across all of Thedas. Your husband put Templars to death in a public spectacle!"
Caitlyn gazed hard back at him. "One, the Templars he put to death were rapists who had made mages Tranquil illegally. Two, I am not answerable for anything Grand Cleric Petrice may have done, only my own actions. And three, what exactly have I done that is worse than overseeing a violent mob that murdered eight hundred unarmed civilians on a holiday, or conspiring with traitorous Templars to let an assassin target Divine Justinia, or slaughtering innocent mage children in atrociously cruel ways—cutting off their feet, dragging them out of wardrobes to die, chopping their heads apart, shattering their bodies as they tried to play dead on the floor?" He was looking visibly uncomfortable, so she added, "Or making Templars take a form of lyrium that turns them into monsters? What have I done that compares to that, Sebastian?"
He glowered. "You speak of things of which you know nothing."
"Oh, don't I? I've seen the vile things! I've fought them!"
"You know nothing of what I feel about these... deeds," he clarified. "If you believe I support them, you are quite wrong."
Flora cut in at once. "It is as I said, you are a good person, Sebastian! You know these things are wrong." His eyes widened as he realized he had walked into the trap. "Viscountess Hawke does not seek the blood of the innocent, only the guilty. She and Anders want justice to be done, and that means that those who are innocent of atrocities will not be punished, regardless of their side."
Caitlyn withdrew the scroll from her pack. It was sealed with the seals of Kirkwall, the Free Mages of Thedas, and House Hawke-Amell. She handed it to Sebastian. "These are our terms. You have until sunset to decide. We will honor the ceasefire until then if your side does. Accept them or not, but know that there will be consequences if you do not."
"Please, think about it," Flora pleaded with him. "Please. I know it will be hard, but the alternative will undoubtedly be far worse."
Sebastian read the message repeatedly, hoping irrationally that it would somehow say something other than what it did, that he had misread it, that his eyes and brain had betrayed him.
Of course, the text remained resolutely itself: dark and menacing, a threat of something nearly inconceivable.
.
Surrender unconditionally, and your people will be punished only for crimes against the laws of your city, and only if they committed any. Surrender your false "Divine," hand over the rebel Templars and Seekers to be judged according to their deeds, and you will be forgiven for joining a schism. Surrender, and accept the reality of living side-by-side with mages, people who only wanted to live normal lives.
Or refuse, and you can expect a rain of ruin the like of which has never been seen in Thedas. We have weapons that can hail destruction upon you from the sky. The ones you have seen were only a small fraction of our arsenal. We have many more, including many that are much larger and more destructive, and some capable of inflicting as-yet unimaginable terror and agony. Your walls mean no more against these weapons than they would against a dragon. Refuse, and Tantervale will feel their full wrath.
Think carefully on this offer. You have until sunset.
.
Sebastian shuddered as images filled his mind of dragons made of metal and stone flying unnaturally over the city, topping the walls as easily as if they did not exist, fire shooting from maws, incinerating Tantervale in explosions.
The words from the parley kept returning to him. I questioned what we were doing after the Annulments, he thought. I knew that was wrong. I knew that the Satinalia Massacre was wrong. I knew that the attempt on Justinia's life was wrong. I know that it is wrong to have Templars use red lyrium.
There have been many times in history during which people did evil in the names of the Maker and Andraste. I believe that the Exalted March against the Dales was one such. Whatever the elves' sins, they did not deserve what those invoking the Maker did to them. My side has done evil in the Maker's name too. This I know.
But not Elthina, he resolved. She has been led into error by these Red Templars. Their evil acts have now endangered her life, and I must save her.
Sebastian had not expected his absence to go unnoticed, and sure enough, Elthina herself summoned him to her holy office.
When he entered her office, laying his weapons outside the door in respect, he was not surprised to see the disapproval in her visage. He had expected that.
"Sebastian," she began, her voice heavy with disappointment, "I know that you left the city to parley with the apostates! What is the meaning of this?"
Sebastian took a deep breath. Just as he had anticipated her disapproval, he had prepared his defense. "Your Perfection," he said in a perfect mixture of supplication and concern for her, "the Red Templars have been manipulating and misleading you for a long time. I could not let them lead you to ruin."
Elthina frowned. "What? Why do you think that? Explain yourself."
"Red lyrium has poisoned their minds," Sebastian said bluntly. "I did not want it to be so, I hoped it would be enemy propaganda, but the claims about Knight-Commander Meredith and its effect on her are apparently true, for I witnessed the same thing here: zealotry, irrationality, and above all, cruelty." He gazed at Elthina fervently. "Most Holy. For four years they have destroyed hundreds of Templars with red lyrium. It is a foul substance," he said, the strength of the conviction filling his words. "It is not a gift of the Maker, and they have misled you if you believe that it is. And the claims of that Templar defector about the Tantervale Annulment are undoubtedly true. Denam led a bloody slaughter of mage children."
Elthina gazed back at him impassively. "Of course they are true."
Sebastian was not sure he heard her correctly at first. Surely he had missed something, had not been listening as she added more context to that comment? Surely she could not have—
"Annulment means that a Circle is lost, that all mages must be put down—either because there is proof of their guilt, or out of an abundance of caution," Elthina continued, as the look of horror dawned in his face. But he needed to face reality at last. "If there were any innocents among them, they are in the Maker's embrace now, freed of their burden at last. They undoubtedly rejoice, having found true freedom in His city, the freedom that the Chantry taught mages to find through submitting humbly to the Circles, rather than this blasphemous kind that Hawke and Anders are trying to foist upon them."
Sebastian was gaping at her in disbelief and horror, as if he had never truly seen her before. "Most Holy," he sputtered. "Elthina. The report said that Denam's Templars mutilated them, chopped them apart—children—"
"How exactly do you suppose hundreds, thousands, of our soldiers have died?" she rejoined. "Death by violence is an ugly thing to our eyes. But do not obsess over what was done to their mortal bodies, Sebastian. If they were innocent, the Maker holds them in His arms now. I worry more for you. You should not have gone to Hawke behind my back." She shook her head. "If we withstand this siege, someone else will rule Starkhaven. I am sorry, but you need to return to the Chantry and renew your faith."
He gaped at her one last time before finally walking out of her office. He felt numb. What has happened to her? he thought. This cannot be the woman who saved my soul years ago, who counseled and advised me, who kept me in the Maker's hands for so long.
It is the Red Templars, he thought again, determined not to attach any blame to her. They have influenced her, misled her. They have brought harm to her. At that thought, a verse of the Chant of Light came to him. "Those who bring harm without provocation to the least of His children are hated and accursed by the Maker." The Maker saved me. Maybe it was for this very moment. Either way, I must put an end to this.
He considered the Red Templar leaders, his memories darting from one to another. Samson, smiling with a hint of evil oftentimes. Carroll, self-righteous but fanatical. Carsten was dead...
The image of the recently appointed Knight-Commander of Tantervale came to his mind. Denam, he thought, his mind fixing upon that man as the source of all the evil that had ensued since the Satinalia Massacre. Samson bears blame for that, the only living person who does, he thought, but the rest of it, and everything evil that has happened since, is Denam's doing. He led the atrocity at the Circle here in Tantervale. He gave the order to slay the Loyalists and murder the little children in the most violent and gruesome ways possible. A flood of memories came to him all at once. He is the one who dismissed the suffering of Templars who take red lyrium from the very start. He and Samson have been close to Most Holy all this time. They have corrupted her mind. And Denam survived today's Red Templar defeat. He is back in the city.
Sebastian considered his options. He was a master archer, probably one of the best in Thedas. Though pride was a sin, that was likely the truth. But a bow simply was not a good weapon for a one-on-one fight against an armored swordsman. However, before he became a Chantry brother, before he even embarked upon his youthful period of rakishness, he was raised as a prince, and that meant learning how to wield a blade.
If it came to it, he might be able to beat Knight-Commander Denam. And if not, at least he would go to the Maker trying.
Surely Hawke, Anders, and their army would accept Denam's head on a pike—the Butcher of the Tantervale Circle, Sebastian called the Red Templar in his mind. Surely, he prayed, that would be enough to prevent them from unleashing their full arsenal on the city.
The front lines.
Caitlyn and Anders exchanged increasingly annoyed, impatient looks as the sun drew lower in the sky and shadows lengthened. "I think we had better prepare to do it," Anders finally said.
"There is still time," Flora Harimann pleaded desperately.
"And we will give them the time we promised," Caitlyn cut in. She shared a grim look with her husband. "But Anders is right. We need to prepare ourselves."
Notes: Regarding the end, there is no way Denam would have been allowed to organize anything at Therinfal Redoubt in this particular AU. He is a known child murderer, proclaimed so by Justinia. Sebastian might as well get his moment of semi-redemption (and the duel itself will be next chapter!). That does not, however, mean that there will be no Red Templar villain at Therinfal. It can be someone else. And whether Hawke/Anders/the Free Mages will consider his death sufficient is probably a very easy thing to guess.
Finally, Caitlyn's ultimatum includes a famous line from Harry Truman that he used after the atomic bomb attacks on Japan.
Soundtrack for the Siege of Tantervale (Part 1):
Arrival at Tantervale: Howard Shore – "Erebor," The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey
Sebastian's Ride: Demons & Wizards – "Heaven Denies"
Caitlyn/Anders Love Scene: Inon Zur & Aubrey Ashburn – "Rogue Heart," Dragon Age 2
Routing the Red Templars; First Use: Blind Guardian – "The Holy Grail"
The Ultimatum; Sebastian's Realization: Howard Shore & Renee Fleming – "The End of All Things," The Return of the King