"This is a nice spyglass." Garrett held the slender tube of bronze and glass gently, all too aware how fragile the more esoteric creations of the dwarves were...especially with objects an Orzammar dwarf created solely for the use of those above ground. Whether it was a tactic to get more orders when things broke, or because they couldn't fathom the wear and tear the more odd creations had to endure, Garrett wasn't sure. "Perhaps a bit short?"
"The length decides how far it looks, Serah, this isn't for looking to the horizon so much as discern the details of a nearby forest, for instance." The dwarf behind the table of his market-stand politely replied. The smile on his lips was friendly, but automatic, his eyes betraying his fear. "Orlesian commanders like to have one for long range and one for short...honestly I figured this would sell here to some noble that would like to spy on his neighbour." The man coughed, eyes widening. "Not that I'd ever suggest that the Champion of Kirkwall would ever...ah...eh..."
"Of course not." Garrett replied, not unkindly. He could well understand the merchant's fear. It was frightening enough for a small-time merchant to come face to face with the grim champion of Kirkwall, but the man was also armoured in his white dragonbone armour and accompanied by not only his elf love and companions, but a large entourage of soldiers bearing his livery. Of course, any noble was allowed to bring guards with him into the city, but Garrett's group was near fifty strong, far more than usual, and all were armed and armoured to the teeth, with hard looks on their faces. It was no wonder the dwarf was nervous. "How much?"
"Err...Serah?" The merchant looked at Maric, licking his lips at the sight of the Mabari's kaddis, no doubt confused by the fearsome warpaint. "Ah, pardon me...fifty gold for such a rarity, but for the champion of Kirkwall I'll of course-"
"Sold." Garrett interrupted the dwarf, tossing a pouch of coins onto the table. "With some change to go." He swept up the spyglass and tied it to his belt where the pouch had been a moment ago. Before him, the dwarf, used to haggling, was staring open-mouthed at him. "Spend the money wisely." Garrett turned his head, looking to one of his soldiers. Pip, having barely survived the High Dragon's attack, still looked young, but his eyes were harder, fixed on Garrett, ready for his every command. "Time?"
The man held up the hourglass he'd been so careful with throughout their journey through Kirkwall. "It's up, Serah." He lowered it, straightening. "Ready, on your order."
Garrett took a deep breath, the confused question by the confused dwarf before him nothing but a garbled sound as the noble felt his destiny beckon. Too late to turn back now, Meredith has made her position clear, so this is the only way...damn her. "Do it."
Pip nodded, and the man next to him brought curled horn of ivory to his lips.
The tone was clear and rose above the din of the city with ease, reaching up towards a cloudless sky...and a moment later it was greeted by dozens more, the whole city seemingly coming alive with the mysterious call. Before Garrett, the dwarf stared. "Wh-what's..." Then Garrett turned around, decisive steps marching back up the street, his entourage on his heels. "...oh shit." Behind him, Garrett heard the dwarf suddenly scoop up the contents on his table and begin to pack.
This is it.
Turning a corner, Garrett saw the Circle tower. Though still distant, it rose up like a fortress in front of him, defying any mortal to try and seize it. Garrett didn't slow though, and behind him, his throng of troops grew as a large group of his soldiers suddenly exited a tavern and moved to follow.
A last roll of the die, a dangerous roll.
Garrett wanted to slow down, but couldn't, it was too late, and any delay now would only endanger the plan before it had even had a chance. From an alley to his right, more of his troops appeared, abandoning the carts they had been escorting towards the docks.
But I must, for the city's sake, there's no other alternative. Meredith forced me into this.
To his left, Charles Reinhart appeared, his family by now in Orlais. The noble was dressed in dark plate armour that the old stick of a man clearly struggled in, but the men and women at his back looked hard; Orlesian and Nevarran veterans, covered in darkened plate armour. Garrett offered Charles a nod, though the other noble didn't notice, his face pale and his wide eyes staring straight ahead.
It's all her fault.
Near a small chapel, there was a ruffle as dozens of dark cloaks were discarded, the armour beneath glittering as the pilgrims transformed into warriors. From three covered wagons, the inhabitants jumped out and joined Garrett's growing group, halberds held high.
But I'll still save the city from her, I will be Viscount.
Even as Garrett narrowed his eyes, his steps growing more determined as he drew closer to the Circle tower, more and more people joined him.
A theatre emptied, the guards of the many nobles forming ranks behind him, the nobles themselves hurrying to put on armour.
A bathhouse's doors opened in a rush of steam, the soldiers within shouldering aside some wide-eyed bystanders as they moved to join Garrett.
A local warehouse's large gates opened, spewing forth nobles and their entourages.
Garrett kept his gaze fixed forward through all that, his determination growing with each man and woman added to the ranks behind him. And though he didn't look, he knew that on the two streets parallel to his, columns of soldiers were also growing, like rivers growing in size as various streams joined the flow.
Ahead, the Circle tower loomed, larger than ever, a majestic building, created by the Tevinters long ago and now mastered by the Templars...and soon, the nobles and mages of Kirkwall.
The walls protecting the tower in the centre was how Garrett remembered them. Impossibly tall, smooth, elegant...and imposing. Yet for all that, there were precious few guards atop them, and given their duties, they were looking inwards, rather than outwards.
Garrett felt his mouth go dry as he sped up, his pulse suddenly racing.
This is it, this is the hour, the moment of change is upon us.
The gates were closed, but Garrett wasn't too worried about it, there had been no warning flash of light from atop the circle tower, after all. Before the gate, a mere two templars stood, and neither had even noticed the approaching horde of warriors.
Instead, their attention was fixed on a pair of Isabela's 'friends'. The barely dressed women smiled with practised ease at the men as they refilled ceramic cups, chatting amiably, the looks on the two guards telling Garrett there had been more than one teasing comment in the talks, making them distracted and thirsty for more than the cheap wine they'd drunk too much of.
Perfect.
"Vanguard...forward." Garrett's words were a whisper, forcing him to swallow and try again. "Vanguard, forward."
At once, six of the men behind Garrett started to run, jogging past him with lowered halberds.
"Get the ram." Was Garrett's next order, and more men turned and went for an innocently parked cart at the side of the road. The side gave way to the easy pull of a lever, and the smoothened tree-trunk with a metal point was revealed, making men grunt and curse as they hefted it up and put it between themselves.
Only now, did the guards at the gate notice the flood of soldiers coming at them, their eyes turning wide as saucers at the unexpected sight.
The man on the right turned pale as a sheet, just staring, not even noticing the woman shooting Isabela a wink before running away. The man on the left though, moved to draw his sword...and then fell to the ground with a crash of metal and ceramic as the prostitute next to him shattered the jug of wine on his head.
"Nice!" Isabela exclaimed in approval even as Garrett shot a worried look up at the wall's battlements, yet none had looked down at the noise yet. They will in a moment, there's no way this can go unnoticed for much longer. Ahead, the remaining guard was raising his hands, back pressed against the wall as four halberds nearly pushed their points into his face. The two other halberdiers had grabbed the unconscious templar and dragged him aside
"Keep those under guard." Garrett needlessly told the men even as he turned at the mass of soldiers behind him. He felt himself sweating, felt himself frightened, despite having planned it all. Still, he kept his voice cool, that of a leader. "Ram!"
Above, there was suddenly a shout of alarm, coloured more by confusion than fear.
Then the men carrying the ram grunted and ran straight at the gate.
The gate was heavy, but not secured by the heavy bolt used during sieges, only with a minor latch. As such, the ram smashed the doors in on the first hit, swinging them inwards with enough forced to make the walls shudder with the impact.
Within, the four templars Garrett knew would be there stared at Garrett and his troop in shock and wonder. One of them lay on his side, clutching his shoulder, the grey-haired man likely having been struck by the doors as they swung inwards. The other three, young enough to be recruits, clutched their spears in fright, one even remembering to lever it at those coming in through the gate.
Garrett rushed forward, brushing the thrust spear-point aside with a forearm and, before his startled foe could retreat, stepped on his forward foot and slapped a backhand across his face, making him cry out and fall onto his back, his spear lost and forgotten as the hard plates of Garrett's gauntlet bloodied the youngster's cheek. "Drop your weapons!" The bark was reinforced by the sight of a dozen soldiers surrounding the templars, spears and glaives ready to strike at them. Garrett softened his words. "Drop them and you won't get hurt." Because that's the last thing I want, as little blood as possible, we're to push Meredith, not cut at her.
Slowly, hesitantly, the three young men dropped their spears while the veteran growled something under his breath and drew his sword before throwing it aside with a disgusted grunt.
Nodding to Pip to take care of the guards, Garrett turned and drew breath to shout out his orders...only to find it pointless, his troops quietly and effectively doing exactly as they'd been instructed to do.
There were only a few templars patrolling the wide space between the walls and the tower, and those were swiftly surrounded by light-footed Rivaini mercenaries, raised javelins and lowered spears making any resistance pointless as each individual templar became surrounded by six foes.
On the walls, there were no battlements facing inwards, and so the templars atop them suddenly found crossbows from the ground below taking aim at them. Meanwhile, contingents of nobles rushed up the stairs, a mass of armour and blades that left no question to the outcome for each templar they met, making them surrender with nary a fight.
The walls and courtyard were his, for the price of a bloodied cheek.
Garrett, relieved that the first, critical, step had been achieved so effectively, turned to face the tower itself, the gates to it almost as large as those of the walls. "Secure the gate! Ready the ram!"
Before the command had even been echoed down the line though, the gates before him opened, making him blink in surprise.
Coming out into the light was first a good fifty templars. But all had their hands bound behind their backs, eyes wide in shock, confusion and fear. Behind them marched mages, young and old, staffs pushing at the backs of the templars even as they grinned wide, exulting in their victory in a way Garrett had never seen. Maker, it's a wonder their faces aren't breaking.
Pressing through the throng, Orsino appeared, hands spread wide, he too grinning wide, half in amazement, half in elation. "Noble Champion! I...we did it! We took them completely by surprise!" He laughed, a hint of hysteria in the sound, disbelief. "Not a templar could believe it when we came for them! They hardly put up a fight at all!" Behind him, a young mage whooped in agreement, triggering a cheer among his peers and making the faces of the templars turn red. "The tower is ours! And you've taken the walls and courtyard! We...we did it!" Orsino moved closer, almost hugging Garrett before he remembered himself, offering a hand.
"We did." Garrett grinned back, gripping the mage's forearm so tight the elf's features flickered with a hint of pain before the noble remembered himself. This will work, thank goodness, it'll work! Even as the excitement of finally getting things his way gripped him, Garrett spoke. "But we're not halfway there yet, now is the time for delicacy, and that's almost harder." Orsino nodded, face a little grimmer as he acknowledged Garrett's authority, but his eyes still shone with excitement.
Behind Garrett, a robed feature spoke up, voice a low growl. "What of the Templars we took?"
Garrett blinked, turning even as he felt every captive templar stare at him in fright. "We release them, of course, you know that, Anders." Ignoring the breath of relief coming from the templars, Garrett frowned. "We're here to claim our rights, not to fight."
"Of course, Serah." Anders bowed his head, making Varric standing next to him grimace. "Just wanted them to know that."
Ah, of course. Nodding in gratitude to the mage, Garrett turned to the captured Templars, now nearly a hundred after those his troops had taken had been added to those the mages had overwhelmed. "You are all free to go, in fact, I ask you to go to Meredith and tell her what has happened here. Tell her...tell her that if she wants her mages back, if she wants them to remain good mages, if she wants them back, she better come here and talk to us." He let the words sink in, then smirked and added for effect. "And if she doesn't...well then I can't guarantee they'll stay good mages."
That ought to get her running.
Garrett, grinning at the Templars even as their bonds were cut, felt it all slide into place.
I will be Viscount.
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Maker no!
Cullen, all colour drained from his face, ran as fast as he could in his heavy armour, a few steps behind an equally pale Carver.
The news was spreading along the ranks even now, the whole city was awash with rumours and whispers even as the Templar Keep went silent, not a man or woman within daring to speak up as the news reached their ears.
With a crash, Carver shouldered his way through a door, Cullen stumbling after.
Within, Meredith looked up from her desk, a quill still pressed on a paper. "Yes? What is it?" Her frown faded at the sight of the two breathless men, a flash of worry in her eyes as she cast her gaze to Cullen. "Did Hawke...decline our offer to make him Viscount?" Cullen and Carver exchanged a look, for all his anger, even Carver couldn't believe what was happening. Before them, Meredith's voice wavered. "Wh-What's happened?"
Swallowing, Cullen turned back to face the woman, knowing he needed to speak up. "I...never met him, Commander. When I reached his estate, it was empty, not a man woman or child within."
"What?" Meredith frowned in confusion.
"He.." Cullen struggled for words. What could he say? That Garrett had done something terrible? That Cullen had been a fool? Or that everything had suddenly turned horribly wrong? If I'd been faster than him, if I'd met him, if I'd told him what we were prepared to do... Somehow, Cullen managed to become even paler. "I don't know what to...Hawke has...he's...he's..."
"He took the Circle tower." Carver pressed out, the man devoid of the usual anger and envy. For all the man's qualms about Garrett, even he couldn't come to terms with what had happened. "He...he marched troops into the tower and...took it." The man shook his head slowly. "C-commander...all the mages, all of them...he has them."
Before them, Meredith stared at them, the woman seemingly having turned into a statue.
Cullen swallowed, then took a deep breath. "All the templars within were thrown out, they're in the courtyard right now, unharmed, which is something." He hesitated. "Th-they came with a message, a message from Ha-Hawke."
Meredith's answer was silence and an empty stare.
Cullen looked to Carver, who stared back and shrugged, the man too rattled to remember their earlier hostility or even his anger with Garrett. Hesitating, Cullen looked back to the unmoving Meredith. "He...he wishes to speak to you about the mages, about his terms for...giving them back."
If only I'd been faster, if only...Maker, no...
Carver, voice surprisingly soft, muttered his words. "Commander...I...the mages are unguarded, when the Divine hears of this..." Carver swallowed. "Maker, he's killed us all."
Suddenly, the quill in Meredith's hand snapped.
The woman remained still, but in her eyes, dark clouds gathered...
And Cullen felt himself tremble at the sight of it.
Maker, no...
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Thanks to Abydos Jackson for her amazingness.