Notes: In this chapter, the events I set in motion in the previous three chapters all become relevant. None of them were isolated—or resolved.

Song: Nightwish - "Slaying the Dreamer"


Chapter 67: A Stake Through My Heart


In coming days, Caitlyn unfortunately got to see what Aveline meant by concern about the mage army's tactics. The first sign came in the form of Fenris's appearance at the Keep, a look of mixed wariness and embarrassment on his face. A solid black mabari that she had never seen before pattered behind him, to Caitlyn's surprise, and Isabela stood to one side, putting distance between herself and him.

Awkwardness filled Fenris's tone as he spoke haltingly. "I want you to know, first of all, that I am not referring to you, Hawke—or Anders. Whether he believes that or not."

Anders was not present; he was spending time with the children, but Caitlyn resolved to pass on the message to him—and she was certain that she knew what that message would be.

Fenris took a breath. "And I understand the argument that there was no other way to win that battle. But if a mage army will be massing in Kirkwall and doing things like this—casting enormous elemental spells as a group—it makes me personally uncomfortable." Humiliation filled his face, along with anger at himself for feeling so. "It brings up anxieties from my past. It shouldn't. It's a weakness—" He had begun to snarl at himself.

Caitlyn summoned her reserves of compassion. To her surprise, she felt no annoyance at him over the fact that it was her army, her tactic, that had so upset him. Perhaps it was because they were friends. She understood what it was like to have anxieties from the past upsetting oneself. "Fenris. I have been upset by things that remind me of bad parts of the past too. It's fine."

Fenris stopped snarling, gazed at her for a moment in surprise, and blinked twice. "Oh. Well... in that case, I wanted to request to serve at Lighthouse Point. I would rather serve the war effort and support my friends there. There's no mage army there."

Caitlyn's compassion rapidly transmuted to shock and upset. She had thought that he just wanted to tell her about his anxiety as a friend, perhaps to seek support and reassurance. Instead, he did not think he could put it behind him as long as the mage army lived in Kirkwall proper.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" she exclaimed. "You don't think you could, in time, get used to the mage army? They would only be doing big group spells like that in combat."

"I was used to the mage army. It's been here for a year and a half. But no—Tevinter was where I last saw the tactics you and Anders had them use, among their army. I cannot get used to seeing that."

"I did have the idea from reading books about Tevinter military strategy against the Qunari," she acknowledged.

Fenris glowered further. "Well, there you have it, Your Grace."

He was using her title. He wasn't calling her by her name, even her surname. As it was for any of her friends who did that in an informal setting with only other friends and family present, it was a defensive measure, like putting on that spiky armor he favored.

"I hate that the battle tactics bothered you, Fenris," she said, "but..." Her face fell. She recalled how she had been easily upset in the first couple of years after her move by anything that reminded her of the sad events in her past. A sigh escaped her lips. "If you feel that serving at Lighthouse Point would be better for you, I appreciate the fact that you want to do that, instead of leaving entirely. I really do," she added, meaning it. "You're not part of any army, so if you want to go as a civilian volunteer, you're free to. Any Kirkwaller has the right to resettle there. You don't require an official reassignment."

"I know. But I wanted to tell you first, as a... friend."

They exchanged an awkward glance. For the first few years, it was dubious to refer to Fenris as a friend of Caitlyn's. He fought loyally by her side when she needed his aid, but they did not agree about the issue of mage rights. They still didn't, she realized. He had moderated his views after seeing her and Anders raising Mal, witnessing a benign and gentle side of mages, and seeing extreme violence and viciousness from the anti-mage side. It had changed him. They were, at last, friends who happened to have a political disagreement, and it was now one of degree rather than being on opposite sides. But it did seem that his past in Tevinter would always be a part of him.

She took a deep breath. "I appreciate that," she told him. "I have no hard feelings—quite the contrary, as I said." Sad ones, but not angry ones. "You could have left. You're not doing that. You still want to help, but in a way that doesn't bring up so many bad memories. I... I actually do understand and respect that, Fenris. I mean that."

He nodded.

She gave the dog a smile. "I didn't know you had imprinted on a mabari. Congratulations."

Fenris turned to the dog. "It happened the day after the battle. I saw this dog taken to the Keep healing clinic looking terrible. Flea-ridden, bruised, cut, half-starved..." He glowered in anger. "I don't know what compelled me to seek after her well-being, but I did, and she took to me instead of the Healers."

The dog was unhealthily thin. But the fleas and wounds were gone.

"I have no idea what a mabari would see in me," he said, "but she follows me around, so I guess it is an imprint. I suspect she was abused, perhaps used in fighting, but she escaped—like me."

"Maybe she saw a kindred spirit."

The ghost of a smile formed on his face. "I named her Liberty. I have heard that the Tevinters bred them to use against the Alamarri, but the dogs defected to the enemy and never looked back."

"That's the story I heard in Ferelden too."

"They have good taste, then." The black dog Liberty barked in agreement.

Isabela finally spoke up. "I am in the navy, though also as a privateer," she said. "I would take the Siren's Kiss to Lighthouse Point too. It's the fastest ship in the fleet, and if I may brag on myself, I would've been sharper about those false Chantry ships than the others in the patrol."

"And you want to be beside Fenris," Caitlyn guessed.

"If you weren't with Anders, tell me the truth, Hawke—wouldn't you?"

Caitlyn goggled at Isabela, who had absolutely no shame over the fact that she said this right in front of Fenris himself. Fenris was sputtering, clearly having never thought about Caitlyn that way.

"Actually," Caitlyn said, still gaping, "if I'd never met Anders in my life... there's someone else I think I'd prefer." She turned to Fenris. "No offense."

"None taken!" he assured her.

"Who?" Isabela asked, eyes gleaming. "Is it Varric or Daisy?"

Caitlyn shrugged. "Maybe both of them would have been my fancy at some point. But that just goes to show that I'm with the right person. I haven't tired of him or ceased to want him."

"True, it's hard to see you long-term with anyone but Anders." She winked. "But that's not going to stop me from imagining what I like."

"You do that," Caitlyn said, shaking her head. "Carry on, then."


Anders was smugly satisfied when Caitlyn told him about Fenris. "If he can't abide seeing mages defend themselves effectively in battle, let him go to the lighthouse and make himself useful," he said, playing with Jo Beth.

Caitlyn shook her head. "It's a sign of the resilience of his friendship with us that he didn't abandon Kirkwall and the war. He's an excellent warrior. I hope the Point never comes under attack, but if it does, he'll make a difference there. And maybe the fresh air and open space will be better than city walls..."

"Enough of him," Anders said brusquely. "I can tolerate him now, because he doesn't want every one of our kind dead, Tranquil, or locked up—"

"Fenris saved my life when I was captured at the Gallows, Father," Mal scolded him. "He killed the Templar who was going to attack me. I saw it."

Anders looked momentarily ashamed. "You're right, son," he said quietly. "But that's what I meant. He doesn't hate all mages now, so I can tolerate him. But he's your friend, not mine," he said to Caitlyn. "And he does have special reasons to be upset by what the army did—what it had to do. I'm more concerned about what Aveline said about more people feeling that way."

Caitlyn's gaze hardened. "I hear you. He has a reason, a justification. A mage made him a slave. The others have no excuse. If not for those battle tactics, Red Templars would have overrun Kirkwall. They would've sacked the city, kidnapped or murdered every free mage and mage sympathizer they could find, and forced everyone to convert to their religion, just like the Qunari."

Caitlyn and her friends did not know that the Templars who used red lyrium indeed called themselves "Red Templars"—but it wasn't a leap to happen upon the proper name.

"Yes, but a lot of people are fools," Anders said darkly, "and don't see that."

"I'll keep both ears open," she promised, "and I will act if I see it becoming a problem."

Anders smiled, leaned over, and gave her a kiss on the forehead.


Aveline's report was proven correct repeatedly over the next several weeks.

The first time—first real time, since Fenris had not abandoned the cause or turned on Caitlyn over it—was in Lowtown. Caitlyn and Anders did not often go there anymore, because they were too easily recognized, but they did pass through the streets of Lowtown en route to the Gallows every time they called an assembly for the free mages—and that was how they heard it.

Aveline had insisted that they go in a conveyance for the sake of security. As difficult as it was to get through some areas of the city in a coach or similar vehicle, with an abundance of stairs and far fewer ramps, and as much as Caitlyn wanted to ride boldly down the streets—or even walk—she saw her Guard-Captain's point. And it was brought home to her all the more when the carriage passed along an alleyway near the marketplace and shouts filtered through the warded windows.

"All I'm saying is that I don't like seeing those mages blow ships to the Void! Did you see it? They sent a bolt that blew the fo'c'stle to splinters!"

"I saw it," someone else agreed. "It's one thing to see one mage at a time casting a spell. I went to a healing clinic once. That's fine and proper. But this army, summoning storms and fire like they were magisters calling down the wrath of their evil gods? Never seen the like, and I don't want to see it again!"

"If you had not seen 'the like,' you would have seen heretics overrunning the streets of your city instead. And the Free Mages honor the Maker and Andraste, not the false gods of Old Tevinter. You spread lies about their faith. For whose purpose, I wonder? The anti-divine in Tantervale?"

There was a scuffle.

"I didn't do nothing! I'm a faithful Andrastian and Justinia's the Divine!"

"Is it illegal to criticize the bloody mages now?" sneered the other man. "That didn't take long."

"It leads us to suspect sympathies with a heretical schism. Come with us. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear."

There was a loud sound of hawking and spitting. "By what authority?"

"The authority of the Grand Cleric of Kirkwall."

Caitlyn groaned. Anders lowered his head in exasperation.

"Stop this! You have no basis to arrest these men that I have heard. Unless you have other evidence, real evidence, against them, release them!"

Caitlyn took a breath, and, with annoyance in her words, instructed Aveline. "Take us to this conflict."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. I don't want my authority usurped."

"By whom?" Aveline raised a brow. "Petrice's people... or the Seekers?"

"Either," she muttered.

The dispute was occurring close by, and sure enough, the parties involved were as Caitlyn, Anders, and Aveline had suspected: two Lowtowners, a female Seeker apparently under Cassandra Pentaghast's authority to oversee Petrice's Suprema—and two officers in Chantry regalia whom Caitlyn recognized: Orwald the former guard and Varnell the former Templar.

"Of bloody course it's those two," Anders muttered. "I don't even know whose side to take in this fight. Mage-skeptics, the Seekers, or those two."

Caitlyn took the wards down and stepped out of her carriage, much to Aveline's displeasure and concern. Anders hurried out by her side, and the Guard-Captain scrambled down, sword in hand.

"Your Grace!" one of the Lowtowners exclaimed. He touched his forelock. "A great honor to be in your presence."

Caitlyn gazed at him with narrowed eyes. "Is it indeed?" she said coldly. "You seem to object to the means by which the allied armies won a victory in battle and therefore kept this city safe and free."

Orwald and Varnell smirked, believing she was siding with them.

The men were nearly soaking their pants with fear. "Your Grace, I beg your pardon most humbly, I just never saw the like of that army doing what it did, and it scared a simple man such as myself..."

Varnell scoffed. "Simple? You compared the Viscountess's army, an army acting as the de facto Exalted March against the heretical schism, to magisters invoking their vile false gods. You knew what you were saying."

I have heard that "de facto Exalted March" claim before, Caitlyn thought quickly, from Cullen in Council at the beginning of the war... but I really don't think Justinia wants it to be said by a man with a Chantry position that a Grand Cleric granted him. And frankly, since she hasn't helped us, I don't want it said either. We're fighting for our freedom, not her seat. We're going to force Justinia's hand if—when—we win.

The Seeker interrupted. "That is no evidence that these men are heretics or schismatics. Many people know of the false gods of the Old Imperium. They expressed political opinions disagreeing with something that the authorities did, which is legal in Kirkwall. If there is no evidence against them of offenses against the civil law, they should be let go, Your Graces."

Aveline gestured for a private discussion with Caitlyn and Anders. They shuffled away, and Anders put up a ward so that the outsiders could not hear. "When I receive credible evidence of treason or sedition, I order the arrests immediately," she said grimly. "We are at war and cannot take that lightly."

"Good," Caitlyn approved.

"And that means there is no such evidence against those men."

Caitlyn breathed heavily. She didn't like allowing people like this to roam free, spreading their anti-mage talk as they pleased. But Aveline had a point. And had she herself not risen to power by subtly criticizing the authorities and by aligning with a person who did it rather more openly?

"You were right, Anders," she said, exchanging exasperated looks with him. "Whom can you even side with in this case? Mage-skeptics or Petrice's hardest-line zealots... who are nonetheless on my side."

"You cannot enforce the law based on who is 'on your side' and who isn't," Aveline said. "The Seekers have the right to overrule Petrice's people, and they will do it if you force their hand. And I will not arrest those men, or anyone else, without evidence—which I do not have. You have to let them go."

"And publicly side against people who are allies, useful supporters trying to help me—however problematically they may be doing it?"

Aveline's eyes narrowed. "You wanted to stop and deal with them."

She sighed. "Fine." She took down Anders' ward and faced the group again. "My Guard-Captain and head of security has informed me that the City of Kirkwall has no evidence of treason or sedition against these men. Therefore, I'm afraid this must remain between the Suprema and the Seekers."

The Seeker immediately interjected. "And as a Seeker commissioned by the Right Hand of the Divine Justinia to oversee the Kirkwall Suprema, I declare that these men are to be released."

Caitlyn and Anders got back into the carriage unhappily as the unpleasant scuffle broke up at last. Once they were all inside, Aveline spoke up.

"I'm not sure that was wise, Hawke. It gave the strong impression that you wanted to arrest them, that you were on Varnell's side, but couldn't find a valid pretext for it. But he didn't get what he wanted either. No one was satisfied."

"What should I have done?" she spat. "Sided with two mage-skeptic loungers and a Seeker sent to 'watch' my allies?"

"So you were on his side."

"I think that's bloody obvious, isn't it? I don't like having this seditious talk making the rounds—even if, I know, Aveline, it isn't legally seditious."

"You made sure that those men knew that you wanted them arrested. They said they weren't against you—they showed you respect—and you made it perfectly clear that you wanted to arrest them for their political opinions. That'll get around, Hawke. There will be talk against you in Lowtown now. If it wasn't seditious yet, it may well become so."

Anders saw that Caitlyn was about to explode in anger at her friend, so he spoke up hurriedly. "I don't approve of what they were saying either," he said. "But they didn't seem hopeless to me. They talked about the healing clinic. They said it was all right for mages to do spells one at a time. They were just frightened by what they saw. They didn't strike me as traitors or schismatics."

"Anders!" she exclaimed. "One of them compared us to Tevinter magisters summoning the Old Gods! And they opposed what we did in battle. In a war."

He sighed. "Yes, I know. Restricting battlemages' combat tactics because some civilians are scared of them is the same kind of thinking that leads to all mages being hunted and locked up because people are scared of us. I hate what they were saying too, Cait. But... I don't want them arrested for saying it. It's wrong, and it feels especially wrong when a religious court does it." He gazed at her. "You never lived in a Circle, love. I did. I joined the Libertarians because I agreed passionately with their view. I thought the Loyalists and even the Aequitarians were bloody fools, but I never wanted to silence them by force. And then I discovered that the Templars and the Circle enforcers in the Chantry let the Fraternities exist so that they would know who to watch and harass. I don't like people being persecuted for their ideas, Caitlyn, love."

Caitlyn thought it over. Just like Fenris, she thought. Lots of people are upset by bad memories of their past. She mustered her inner strength. But if I can be understanding with Fenris, I can certainly be understanding with Anders. And... She felt a prickle of conscience. I know he's right.

"You're right," she said quietly. "I don't want to persecute people for their ideas either, even if I hate those ideas. I want to stand for liberty, not tyranny."

Anders smiled at her, a real smile, an encouraging one. He took her hand. She felt the comfort of the familiar loving touch, and with that, her frustration decreased. "Of course," he said. "We will get through this."


The next, most irritating, and most concerning example of the discontentment was when a figure about whom Caitlyn had wanted to forget resurfaced to voice his support for it.

Varric reluctantly lived in the Tethras mansion in Hightown now, despite his dislike. It was not befitting for the Treasurer of Kirkwall and member of the Viscountess's Small Council to reside in a rented room in a dubious Lowtown tavern. But he still kept a close watch on the goings-on at the Hanged Man. When he saw the fliers promoting the "town hall" that Harlan, the "respected Kirkwall mercantile shipper, proudly of common birth and blood, a true man of the people"—as the documents simperingly proclaimed him—was going to hold in the common room of the Hanged Man, he made plans for eyewitnesses.

Varric himself was far too recognizable to infiltrate the meeting. But Charade was gleefully willing to do it, and as a Friend of Red Jenny, she knew well how to disguise herself. Leandra didn't like it, nor Cullen, nor—for that matter—Caitlyn and Anders, but Charade knew her business best, and she did what she wanted. On the night of the town hall, no one recognized the heavily tattooed and scarred blonde bruiser as the Viscountess's cousin.

The Hanged Man was standing room only for the town hall. Charade stood in the bar in a crowded corner, a whiskey in her hand, as Harlan and his mistress Lusine, dressed richly but tastefully, stood at the top of the stairs, surly Coterie guards protecting them. In fact, the proprietor had had to cede security to the Coterie for the event, and they had demanded to search everyone for weapons at the door—an unusual occurrence at the Hanged Man. Charade had been afraid they would yank off her blonde wig and smudge her makeup, but the weapons check left her disguise undisturbed.

Harlan spoke in tones pitched to carry. "Word has reached my ears of the concern so many of you share about the Battle of Kirkwall Harbor and the frightening tactics that the mage army used to destroy the enemy ships," he said. "Know this, people of Kirkwall—I understand your concerns."

So far, so dull, Charade thought. It was unclear if Harlan was going to side with or against Caitlyn. But she had a guess. If he supported Caitlyn's approach, there was no good reason why he would have held a speech to proclaim it, assuming needless risk and opprobrium from the people he had tried to cultivate months earlier with charity. Why even mention it in that case?

"While the Viscountess is correct that no mage should be forcibly separated from their loved ones without good cause or locked up for life—"

There were several boos from the crowd, followed by the unmistakable sounds of fists slamming against bodies and people being shoved.

"Enough! There is no need for that," Harlan said in tones of displeasure. "They are wrong, but my friends, have we not seen enough violence and thuggery from, ah, certain others directed against people for their beliefs?"

This was as overt a reference to Petrice's Suprema as he could get away with. Only his ambiguity—he might, after all, be referring to the enemy itself—would protect him. That and his status as a crime lord, Charade thought. Or would the Grand Cleric go after him anyway? Caitlyn wants to. Those two think rather alike at times. She hoped it wouldn't come to that.

The Coterie thugs who had hit the people who booed backed off. No one seemed hurt, not even to rub a bruise, and Charade wondered if that had been a bit of theater to display Harlan's control over his enforcers and supposed principled stand. She wondered if the people who booed had also been Coterie.

"As I was saying," Harlan continued, "while the Viscountess is right to seek greater freedom for her fellow mages—"

Charade had noted that not one person who had come to the pub was a mage, at least not obviously so, and apostates had no reason to conceal it anymore in Kirkwall. Indeed, apostasy didn't exist here. Harlan was blatantly designating Caitlyn "the other" to this crowd by emphasizing her magic.

"—perhaps there should be some restrictions on the coordinated use of magic on a large scale," Harlan continued, to applause.

I knew it, Charade thought.

"I know what we all fear," he continued. "And I know how the existence of this fear troubles us in its own right. It is a conflict we all face in our minds, is it not? The mages needed to destroy the enemy ships, or Kirkwall would be flooded with violent heretical Templars, our beautiful city sacked, our Chantry—the true Chantry—overthrown. But we fear what a large group of outlaw mages, not operating under the discipline of an army, might do, don't we? If they could do it to an enemy warship, they could do it to a harmless merchant vessel, or to the home of someone they disliked!"

You clever son of a bitch, Charade thought. She very much doubted most of these people had any such doubts—they likely weren't nearly as intelligent as Harlan manifestly was—but now, he had put the idea into their heads.

Harlan continued in this vein for another half hour, skillfully expressing a modicum of support for Caitlyn's cause and always being sure to emphasize his devotion to the Chantry in Val Royeaux—how bloody ironic for a crime lord—while sowing fear about the terrors an unruly mob of mages could inflict.

Finally, after he had thoroughly riled the crowd to his side, all the while acting the adult in the room and talking them down whenever they showed signs of violence or bloodlust, he dismissed the town hall. Charade shuffled out, merely another face in the crowd, just as she had begun the evening.


Caitlyn was furious when she learned of the "town hall."

"What a liar," she raged. "A crime boss as a devoted Andrastian? I don't know if he even believes his fear-mongering words about mages in groups. If he had his own cluster of Coterie mages—excuse me, alchemists," she snarled, "who could do that, he'd love it. He's just cynically saying this because it's the popular view in Darktown and Lowtown."

Anders spoke up hotly. "What he said, too, is the same type of argument used to lock mages in Circles. 'Imagine this scary thing that a group of mages could do!' However it's phrased, that's always what it amounts to. And the answer is always unreasonable restrictions. He may claim to support our cause, but he doesn't really. He likes his own alchemists, but he doesn't give a damn about any other mages, and he uses the rhetoric of the enemy."

Caitlyn seethed. "He does. I want to do something about this."

Aveline and Varric exchanged looks. "I'm keeping many pairs of eyes on Lowtown," Varric said, "and I'm sure Red here—"

"Don't call me that. Hawke has redder hair than I do anyway."

"Right, then. Muscle here has people on the lookout for evidence of crime."

"We need to get people in his legitimate businesses to smuggle out those cooked books," Caitlyn exclaimed.

"Hawke, I'm telling you, that's a suicide mission. If the Coterie runs its business anything like the Merchants' Guild, they don't let just anyone see those books. The only ones who do are people who'd never turn. I doubt you could pay them enough to turn."

Caitlyn was getting sick of being told that something "couldn't" be done. That was the defeatist mentality that had left mages locked up in Circles or terrified for their lives for ages. Finally, when someone had said that yes, something damn well could be done, it was. It was that mix of resolve and irritation that led her to burst out with words that surprised her with their darkness. "I could offer them an immense amount of payment and deliver them a lightning bolt to the head instead once I had the books," she snapped.

Anders and Aveline gaped at her. Varric did too, but he burst into laughs. "Maker's breath, Hawke!"

"That's very dishonorable," Aveline said tightly. "The Guard may require a punishment for informers for participating in crime in the first place, but it is always a lesser one. Otherwise what is the incentive to inform?"

"If we can obliterate the Coterie, we won't need any more informers."

"And what about when something takes the place of the Coterie?"

Varric's laughs subsided, and he sighed. "They won't turn, Hawke. For the high-level Coterie folks, it's not just about being bought off. They think that merchants and businesses really should get to do whatever they want and any laws that prevent them from doing so are illegitimate laws."

"Then it's a... principle, of sorts," Aveline said, wrinkling her nose. "Well. Would any amount of gold induce you to turn against mage rights?"

Caitlyn scowled. "I need solutions, and you're telling me there are none."

Anders spoke up. "We need to fight Harlan's speech with speech of our own. Until we can get proof he's a criminal, at least." He gave Aveline and Varric hard looks. "I agree with Cait, we need more focus on that."

"It's hard, Blondie," Varric said.

"We are working on it," Aveline said tightly.

"Work harder, then," Caitlyn said in cold tones. She reached for Anders' arm, and taking it possessively in hers, stormed into her private rooms.


Unfortunately, the narrative that Harlan had pumped took off like wildfire in the coming weeks, and it began to have far more detrimental effects than just some people in Lowtown grumbling about their fears of mages.

Although the declared wartime enemies were the only states that had actually embargoed Kirkwall goods, many of the neutral countries—including Orlais, a major trade partner of Kirkwall—reduced direct trade with the combatants, to avoid appearing to take a side, and also because Harlan's words about massed mages attacking merchant ships had apparently taken root. That, or many other businesspeople had the same fear after hearing word of the Battle of Kirkwall Harbor and the capabilities of the Free Mages.

Caitlyn began hearing it from several sources, not just Varric. Nobles in Hightown who owned shares in shipping companies began to speak darkly of the fear that they kept hearing from their trading partners: "If mages gain their freedom, what's to keep a trading company from hiring a band of mages to attack rivals' ships? What's to keep mages from turning pirate themselves?"

It was exasperating. "It's illegal, that's what," she complained to her friends after hearing one such report. "What difference would it make if it's done with magic? It's a crime and mage freedom won't change that!"

They muttered in sympathy. "People can be stupid and irrational," Varric observed.

"Besides," Caitlyn continued, irate, "Tevinter has already had this capability. I learned about it from books on the Tevinter army! And that country trades with the rest of Thedas. This is asinine."

Anders took her hand in his and pressed it sympathetically.


But asinine or not, fear of the Free Mages and their novel battle tactics had taken root and done its work. Kirkwall still charged its harbor tax and the fee to pass the Lighthouse Point-Highever patrol, but ships did not stay in port long. From what Caitlyn could gather, they did not give their business to Ferelden instead, either. Ostwick and Cumberland were the beneficiaries, with traders resupplying at one or the other of them—depending on their destination—and spending as little time as necessary in Kirkwall. Direct trade in goods to the city also dropped off. And with this decline in trade, Kirkwall's economy began to deteriorate sharply.

The obvious beneficiary of that—as he had intended, Caitlyn realized with bitter anger—was Harlan. With Lowtown and Darktown experiencing hard times, the Coterie took full advantage, offering employment and low prices.

And where Harlan's reputation improved in the eyes of the common people, Caitlyn's took a dive. He was the "man of the people" who spoke of their own concerns and alleviated their suffering through his "organization" and his "charity." She was the noble-blooded mage who brought their city into a war for her kind, a war in which—despite having won every battle—the people of Kirkwall who were neither mages nor close to mages could see no benefit.

The only thing remotely qualifying as a relief to Caitlyn in these difficult months was the arrival of a contingent of Fereldan troops, as she had requested. Pleased, she put them in charge of training her non-mage former vigilantes, now the chartered Kirkwall Militia. Some of the militia had military training—some, indeed, had once been in the Fereldan Army—and she flatly forbade the Fereldan regulars from disciplining any of her people for "desertion" after the defeat at Ostagar. The Blight had been a trying time, and Ferelden had been embroiled in a civil war. The officers had agreed without complaint.

But the troops were accompanied by a rather sharply written letter from Teyrna Cauthrien Mac Tir of Gwaren, who seemed to be the Fereldan Crown's chief military advisor.

.

Your Grace Viscountess Hawke,

The Crown of Ferelden hopes that these skilled officers serve your needs well. However, we must inform you that we cannot distinguish between legitimate Chantry vessels and those that fly the ensigns of the Chantry under false pretense. The schismatics believe that they are the legitimate Chantry, it would seem. Short of boarding every Chantry vessel and demanding proof of its provenance, we have no way to prevent deception. False flags are always a danger in times of war. We hope that these officers improve your defenses on your mainland so that enemy deception poses less threat.

.

Caitlyn threw the note aside in annoyance. At this point, she almost welcomed another battle. At least it would be a way to distract her people's attention from their coin and the crime lord who was pouring sweet poison into their ears for frightening reasons that Caitlyn was not yet ready to face.


One evening after the officers had arrived, she was seated in her private family sitting rooms. Anders, Mal, and Jo Beth were writing, reading, and playing respectively. Caitlyn was also reading—specifically, she was reading a two-year-old book about Starkhaven and Tantervale, looking for weaknesses. The unpleasant domestic situation had led her to seek a quick finish to the war.

It was grim reading. She had selected The Minanter City-States in the hope of gathering militarily useful information about their defenses, and she had, all too well. Both cities had the natural defense of the Minanter River, which was over a mile wide in places. Starkhaven had a well-trained militia. If Prince Sebastian wanted to march on Kirkwall, he could do so. He'd have a fight now—at least the stories about the Free Mages are good for that, she thought bitterly—but he had an advantage for the moment in that he did not have to train a comparatively recently formed militia as a military force. Tantervale, as a city all but ruled by Chantry extremists for many years, was filled with Templars—Red Templars, too, by this time.

Starkhaven was rich and populous. Tantervale was less so, but it had money too, probably from the Chantry. Tantervale was also known for its tall granite walls, which were nearly impossible to breach. Caitlyn doubted that even her mages could do it. Was it possible to combine earth spells to send a single massive boulder? She had her doubts. More likely, it would be a barrage of many boulders that smashed against the granite and crumbled to bits.

Unhappily Caitlyn finished the book and set it aside. "This war could go on a lot longer than we thought," she said quietly to Anders, though Mal heard too.

Anders and Mal glanced at her, unhappiness in their faces too as they saw what she had been reading.

Jo Beth toddled up to her mother. Caitlyn picked her up and cuddled her daughter, smiling in spite of herself at the lovely dark gold waves that framed her face. "You are a beautiful child," she told Jo Beth.

The child smiled back. "Mama."

"She has beautiful parents," Anders put in. "You can tell with them both. A handsome young man and a beautiful little girl."

Mal chuckled from his book, and Jo Beth giggled. Caitlyn gazed at her family and resolved ever firmly, I will win this war. I will give our children the lives they deserve. No matter what.


Caitlyn's sleep was interrupted that very night by the sound of thumps and yells. She and Anders emerged groggily from the Fade.

Aveline was banging at the door. "Hawke! Anders! You need to wake up!"

"We're awake!" Caitlyn exclaimed, feeling her heart pound as dark memories of the 9:36 Satinalia Massacre filled her mind. She and Anders hurried into a dressing gown and shoes, then opened the door.

To her dismay and outrage, Mal and Jo Beth stood beside her friend. "Why did you wake them up?" she exploded.

Aveline tensed. "I didn't do it, Hawke," she said. "The noises outside did."

She scowled. "What's going on outside?"

"It seems to be a riot of some sort. A bread riot, I think."

Void take the lot of them, she thought. "I don't want the children anywhere near that, then. That means you too, Mal," she said as her son looked to object. "You're only ten. You and Jo—go to the sitting room and stay there until we come back."

Mal was usually a very sweet and well-behaved boy, and this was no exception. He made to lead his sister to the family room, but she looked to be the one to object. Fear filled her eyes. "No want sleep," she objected.

Anders got on his knees to speak to her. "Jo Beth," he said seriously, "your mother and I have to tell some people to go away. You have to stay with your brother. It's fine if you can't go to sleep until we come back, but we will come back and tuck you back into bed. Promise."

That mollified her. She nodded, took her older brother's hand, and let him lead her into the sitting room. Caitlyn, Anders, and Aveline then faced each other as they headed out of the inner Keep to deal with the riot.

They made their way to the rooftop of one of the ramparts facing Hightown. The rioters could see them, but they could not reach them, even if they carried weapons. Even from a distance, Caitlyn heard their complaints.

"We're hungry!"

"Food costs too much!"

"We can't afford to eat!"

"I had to close my shop!"

"Boss sent us all home!"

The rioters carried quite a lot of torches, and the sight of about fifty people massing with lit firebrands again brought back those unpleasant memories of Satinalia Eve 9:36. Caitlyn's heart thumped harder.

These are not mage-hating fanatics, she told herself. They're hungry people of Kirkwall.

The logical assurances did little to calm her. They were also angry people.

"Warden-Commander Cousland once faced a peasant riot as Arlessa of Amaranthine," Anders said quietly to Caitlyn. "She managed to disperse it without violence."

"What did she do?" Caitlyn asked. "We can't accede to their demands. We have food here, but it's for the Guard, the Keep staff, and... us. And city reserves for dire need. If we gave them food from our stores, we'd have half of Lowtown and Darktown here tomorrow night demanding the rest of it."

Anders sighed. "She concluded the same. She dispersed them by threatening them."

Caitlyn laughed sharply. "Well," she said, "if there's one thing I'm good at, it's threatening people."

Aveline stood by Caitlyn. "I will back you up, Hawke."

Taking a deep breath, Caitlyn cast a force spell that would amplify her voice so that all the rioters would hear her. "People of Kirkwall!" she roared. "Disperse immediately!"

"Fuck you! We're hungry!"

Caitlyn scowled, unable to identify the vulgar rioter. "This is the Keep, not a charity!" she roared, her voice amplified by the spell. "If you are hungry, go to the Chantry! If you don't disassemble peacefully, I will have you cleared off by any means necessary." She paused, noting that this made them fall silent. "You remember Satinalia 9:36, what I did to the enemy that night? You recall the power of the mages under my command?" she added menacingly, figuring that now was the time to mention the mages that everyone so feared, even if they were not at the Keep right now. "I mean what I say. Clear off or you will suffer the consequences!"

Anders gazed admiringly at her, Aveline as well, though her friend showed a hint of misgiving and fear too. Caitlyn watched over the ramparts as the crowd began to break up, most of them indeed heading in the direction of the Chantry.

When the crowd had finally dispersed, she turned to them smugly. "Well," she said, "good to know that threats and fear are still good for something."

The children were relieved to see them. Jo Beth had indeed remained awake, though her parents had hoped that sleep would take her in spite of her fear. Our children are just too smart for their own good, she thought sadly as she rocked her daughter back to sleep. Mal sat on the sofa next to his father, not saying anything, just cuddling against Anders' side until he too fell asleep.

When she and Anders finally returned to their own bed, she curled against him, welcoming his comforting embrace. Anders was rather taller than she, and in times like this she loved it. He cuddled her head against his chest, his chin resting atop her head, as his fingers threaded through her long red hair.

"It'll be all right," he murmured. "Things will get better."

In that moment, she believed it.


The next afternoon.

Caitlyn could scarcely believe her ears. She gaped at Varric and Aveline. "He did that? The very next day?"

They nodded glumly. "I'm afraid so," Varric said. "Big stew pots, cooks, Coterie thugs standing guard to keep order..."

"He planned it all," she concluded at once, "and planning a riot is a crime."

"I agree," Anders said darkly.

"I agree too," Varric said, "but we'll have a hard time proving that."

The fifty-odd rioters had found a small amount of food at the Chantry, but they had been dismissed from there in the morning too, as even the gold-greedy religious institution had funding concerns in a time of schism and war. That very morning, however, Harlan had opened up a charitable soup kitchen in a Coterie-owned house in Lowtown.

It was next to impossible that he hadn't planned everything. The logistics of setting up such an endeavor and having it ready to go the next day after a riot suggested that too strongly.

"I'm at the point of saying 'to the Void with proof; arrest him anyway,'" Caitlyn snarled. She clenched her fists as small flames escaped from her palms. "Damn it! I should have foreseen this. We should have foreseen this." She whirled on Anders. "You used to run a free healing clinic in Darktown! How is it that you didn't see it coming, of all people?"

"Hawke!" Aveline exclaimed disapprovingly.

"Whoa, Hawke," Varric chimed in, eyes wide.

Anders was taken aback. "This isn't my fault!" he exclaimed hotly.

His look of real hurt softened her and brought her back from her tower of rage. Her magic subsided, and the flames vanished. She realized how she had been reacting, and shame came over her. "You're right," she said more kindly, "and I'm sorry. It isn't your fault."

He still looked hurt, but he accepted her apology and managed a smile.

"But this can't go unanswered. I'm calling a Small Council meeting for this evening to discuss Harlan."


No one was pleased with the crime lord's activities, but no one—it seemed to Caitlyn—had a practical solution for how to deal with him.

"The 'town hall' at that tavern likely danced on the edge of sedition," Ser Marlein Selbrech said tightly. "But apparently he never expressed sympathy for the enemy, and he made sure to speak of his devotion to the true Chantry."

Petrice scoffed. "A crime boss has no devotion to anything save gold. I will say this for the northern heretics, they are sincere in their beliefs. The same can be said of the Qunari, of course, so that is no compliment. But it is not the type of thing that would endear the schism to a Coterie boss."

"So what you're saying is that he didn't say anything that struck you as supporting the northern heresies," Caitlyn said.

Beside her, Anders sighed. He didn't like the Suprema, and he didn't like what his wife seemed to be hoping it could be used to do.

The Grand Cleric shook her head. "From the reports, I would say not. He expressed support for some moderate restrictions on mages, but we can hardly claim that is a heresy." She seemed unhappy as well that she couldn't order Harlan's arrest under her authority.

"It's extremely suspicious that he had this soup kitchen opened and functional the day after a bread riot," Caitlyn said, changing the subject.

"Suspicious but not definitive," Aveline said with a pinched mouth. "He could claim that the riot's timing was a coincidence. By all accounts, the soup kitchen was already open when the rioters left the Chantry. It wasn't that they came to the Coterie complaining of hunger and he had it running smoothly at once. That might be suspicious enough to be actionable. But apparently the rioters were not even the first visitors at the soup kitchen."

"He covered his tracks well, then, to avoid any indication of planning a riot or colluding with rioters," Caitlyn said sourly.

"Harlan is smart," Varric said. "I hate it, but it's true."

"Yes, we get it," Caitlyn said, annoyed. Remarks about her rival's intelligence rubbed her wrong now, because she felt outwitted with the events of today. "The question is, how can we outsmart him? He's manipulated events so that I'm the rich mage Viscountess who threatened hungry people and he's the charitable 'man of the people' who fed them." Fury filled her words.

"We could open a soup kitchen ourselves, as the City of Kirkwall," Anders suggested, and Caitlyn gave him a grateful smile. That was a good idea.

But the nobles and Varric exchanged unhappy glances that wiped it from her face. "I don't know if we have the coin for that," Varric said.

"Then we can find it!" Caitlyn burst out. She was fed up with being told "no." "Or we can requisition food from the farmlands between here and Lighthouse Point."

"That won't be popular..." Ser Marlein said.

"I'm not all that popular now, in case you haven't noticed!" Caitlyn exploded. "I have to do something! We are having a depression and a food crisis. There's no reason for that with all the new farms around Lighthouse Point. Some of those crops can be requisitioned for relief. Not so much that we're starving the farmers themselves or depriving them of the chance to make coin, of course." Her gaze hardened. "Where is the Coterie getting its food, I'd like to know? They can't grow much in Darktown or Lowtown!"

No one seemed to want to give her the answer—and in fact, she was sure she knew it already. She just wanted to see who, among those who had underworld business knowledge, would have the courage to speak up.

Finally Varric did. "They're likely buying from those very farmers."

"Of course they are," Caitlyn replied, trying not to snap.

"Which means they're paying the farmers," Varric continued. "The farmers will not like it if you take their crops instead."

She glowered. "They'll like it even less if they're arrested for doing business with a crime syndicate. All right," she said, trying to calm herself and not explode at a close friend, "here's my plan. I want City Guard dispatched to the farms between here and Lighthouse Point to find out who has been selling to the Coterie. Confiscate all incriminating receipts, but no arrests unless they turn violent," she said. "Instead I want a counter-offer made to sell to Kirkwall instead at a below-market price. If they refuse, then they will be arrested."

The members of the Small Council all nodded in approval. Caitlyn continued, "If Harlan is able to import food from elsewhere, as he likely is, then we can still 'compete' with him in the hearts and minds of the people. The city will be offering a charitable kitchen and the Coterie won't be the only option. Let's even have some of the mages there, to remind those in Lowtown and Darktown that we're just people like everyone else." She considered. "I don't want well-to-do people taking advantage, though. Once we get our own kitchen running, I'll want lists of the Lowtown affluent so that they can be barred from taking food meant for people who actually need it. And obviously no one from Hightown will be admitted. Or, for that matter, the Coterie."

Anders chuckled at that last inclusion. "When I ran the Darktown clinic, I didn't turn anyone away, but healing didn't cost me anything, and I wasn't going to run out of magic. Well, I ran out of lyrium during the epidemic... but not magic. Anyway, a soup kitchen of our own should help." He smiled at her.

"I hope so," she agreed briefly. She sighed, the events of the day suddenly overwhelming her. She felt the beginning of a headache. "The bigger issue is, what are we going to do about Harlan in general?"

This was met with awkward silences among the nobles, Aveline, and Varric. "What do you mean, 'do about' him?" Ser Marlein asked. "Do you think all these activities have a singular purpose?"

The fear that Caitlyn had not wanted to face, the fear borne of experience—in fact, experience doing certain similar things herself years ago—finally forced itself into her mind in a way that she could not avoid. She took a deep breath.

"Yes," she said, mastering her fear enough to speak it. "I do believe that. He's leading a political movement, and that makes me very uneasy."

Anders looked down. He agreed with her, she knew. Across the table, the Grand Cleric also looked completely unsurprised at this conclusion.

"A... political movement?"

"He's not just ingratiating himself with the poor. He's organizing Lowtown and Darktown, and speaking out against me. I don't like it. I know what it meant when I did that against Viscount Dumar back in 9:34." She shuddered.

Anders took her hand under the table, aware of what it took to voice that fear. She cast him a quick, grateful look as the Council considered this.

"He's the leader of a gang," Aveline finally said. "Everyone knows it, too. He isn't a noble. He couldn't become Viscount."

"Just like a half-Fereldan apostate mage married to another mage couldn't become Viscountess?" Caitlyn said pointedly.

"You had noble blood, your grandfather was a contender for Viscount in his day, and you made noble allies. Your plan was for a moot to call for no confidence in Dumar and install you. It didn't work that way, of course, but that was your intent. And there was a moot. Harlan's support is all Lowtown."

"So far. What if he's working nobles behind the scenes? Or—to consider something darker—what if he's playing a long game? What if he's counting on something to happen to me in the war, or planning something, with the aim of threatening nobles with a Lowtown mob if they didn't then choose him?"

Several of them exchanged glances. "With all due respect," Marlein Selbrech said, "I think you're a bit too worried about that idea, Your Grace."

"He might oppose the war for business reasons," Comte de Launcet said.

"The war is a boon to his businesses, though. And besides, he spoke against the tactic I used to defeat an invasion. We were going to lose that battle if the mages didn't join forces and destroy the ships as one—and Harlan spoke against it. That isn't about his finances. He cannot possibly believe that absurd claim that rivals are going to hire mages for piratical acts. Piracy is illegal and it doesn't suddenly become legal if mages do it with magic."

"He runs an illegal business, though," Varric said reasonably. "Someone who is already a criminal isn't going to be soothed by the fact that something is illegal. He breaks the law, so why wouldn't others? Besides, it's a new thing outside Tevinter, and anything new, big, and menacing is unsettling to merchants. It'd be like if someone got the recipe for Qunari gaatlok. Suddenly the seas would feel a great deal more threatening—to everyone. Logic and reason aren't factors. After all, look at the effect it's had on our economy."

Caitlyn sighed, rubbing her temples. They were all making rational sense. Her distrust of Harlan was based on nothing more than a bad feeling, brought about by the fact that she had risen to power partly by getting Lowtown on her side with populist tactics and speaking against policies of the leadership of that time. It was based on a pattern that she thought she saw, not any real evidence that Harlan sought to supplant her. Perhaps she was being too paranoid.


Petrice waited outside the council chamber after everyone else had left except Caitlyn and Anders. She clearly wanted a private word.

The Grand Cleric bore a very serious look on her face. "Hawke, I agree with you about Harlan. I think you are right and the rest of your Council is wrong, and I urge you to do what you know you must."

Caitlyn's concern that she was being too paranoid suddenly lifted. It was gratifying to know that someone else saw it her way, that she wasn't alone in a delusion. "You really do?" she asked.

Petrice nodded. "His actions make no sense without the motive you ascribe to them. Your Council suffers from complacency and a refusal to contemplate the worst case. It is a fault that many have. We do not want to believe that a dark explanation could be true, because the worst case is usually quite rare."

"But 'rare' is not 'impossible,'" Caitlyn said. "Sometimes, the darkest explanation will be the right one."

"Exactly."

Anders spoke up. "I also thought the others were too confident in their views. I've seen the worst-case scenario happen a lot too," he added darkly.

Caitlyn considered. "Do you think I should order his arrest for sedition?"

"Yes," the priest said immediately. "Do it now before the threat increases."

Anders gaped. "I completely disagree. Cait, I hate what he's saying and what he's trying to do, but don't people have the right to speak?"

Petrice addressed him. "Not always."

Caitlyn considered. Her inclination to use the power of her office to stop a threat conflicted with her respect for Anders' ideals. "I'll watch and wait for now," she decided. "It arguably isn't seditious... yet."

"Do not let this get out of control. When you act, do it without hesitation."

"Aveline has strong opinions against using the Guard that way. She might resign rather than carry out an order she hated." Aveline had become as much of a best friend to Caitlyn as Varric, and she felt like a traitor to her friend by saying it—but I have to be a Viscountess first, she thought. Beside her, Anders gave her a surprised look.

"Lately the Seekers have made moves to interfere with Suprema arrests. I suppose they have a point that criticizing you is not heretical. But whether I like it or not, they are here on the orders of the Divine's Right Hand. I would rather not openly defy them. You may have to do it yourself, Hawke." Her eyes narrowed conspiratorially. "But you will have any of my people at your disposal, if the existing guards are resistant."

"Force them into the Guard over Aveline's objections?" Caitlyn still didn't like that—but then something else occurred to her. "If it gets to that point, I could make military arrests under my wartime powers. But," she added as Anders gave her another shocked look, "let's hope it doesn't."

After she had left for the Chantry, Anders gave Caitlyn a reproachful look.

She gazed back at him defiantly. "Don't say it, Anders. You agree on what Harlan is up to. You agree with me. It was clear."

"Yes," he admitted. "I think you're probably right. I understand perfectly why you were so frustrated with Aveline, Varric, and those nobles. She's fixated on 'the law,' he thinks a little too much like a crime boss himself, and the nobles can't fathom the threat of a popular uprising. You know Lowtown support was part of your rise, but they discount it because it also involved 'noble blood' and noble outreach. You lived in both worlds and you do get it." He sighed heavily, gazing at her with pleading amber eyes. "I just don't want you to take everything that priest says as... well, as holy truth," he said with an ironic chuckle. "You saw that her approach to the Qunari would fail and made her do it your way instead. Acting like a tyrant will fail too."

Caitlyn sighed. "I'm trying to stop a criminal from taking over our city, get Kirkwall through this, and win freedom for mages. I don't think I'm a tyrant."

He pulled her close and gazed intensely into her green eyes. "You're not. So please, please, hold on to the best in yourself." And please don't become one, he added to himself silently.


Notes: Despite my real-life security/human rights hawkishness, and my libertarian views on the mage issue in Dragon Age, I don't intend everyone in this anti-war movement to be villainous. I'm also very near a free-speech absolutist. And because of that, Cait's thoughts of how to deal with it are meant to be questionable. That said, Harlan is a clever, dangerous type of populist. Caitlyn and Petrice were mere amateurs in Spells of Power. This domestic-front conflict is meant to be every bit as "gray" as the chapter makes it out to be. Anders' libertarian idealism is what I dearly want to be the answer in cases like this. That does not mean Caitlyn will stick with it, however.