Chapter 13: The Defrocking of Orlais
Notes: Or, "The Empire Has No Clothes." Part Two of "Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts." Enjoy. I certainly enjoyed writing it.
Max was heading back toward the off-limits areas of the Palace, including the trophy room where Briala had said to look, when Sera finally reemerged. Wicked, vindictive, chaotic glee suffused her face as she held out a parcel.
Max's heart skipped a beat. "Is that—have you—"
"Her hands drip with red and so does this book," Sera said, withdrawing a well-worn leather-bound ledger from her parcel. "Blood and red ink, you know? It fits."
"I understood," Max assured her. "You've got the dirty details, then?"
"Wasn't that what I said? Come on, we can't discuss it here."
Max motioned for the partners in his conspiracy to follow Sera into a corridor. Dorian, Varric, Rainier, Solas, and Iron Bull headed after her. She was garbed in her Inquisition uniform again, which meant that she wouldn't be accosted by nobles wanting extra drinks or sexual favors.
Once they were alone, she opened the book. "I bookmarked the really good stuff," she said. "Look at this. Just disgusting, what they do. If we go broke, we go into the street. If they do, they just ask the bank for more!"
Max looked at the spot in the ledger where her finger was jabbing. It was a page with some entries and another document inserted between the sheets. Max lifted the document up to see the entries first.
"She borrowed a million gold from the Bank of Treviso for the operations in the Exalted Plains," Max breathed. "Which she does not hold. Gaspard has people and fortifications there too. Money thrown away." He examined the extra papers. "The terms of the loan."
"The Bank of Treviso contracts with the Antivan Crows," Varric remarked. "They wouldn't—presumably—take out the Empress of Orlais, though honestly who can say these days? But it goes to show how ruthless that bank is."
"There's more," Sera said gleefully. Max turned to the next bookmark.
And gave Varric a hard stare. "Five hundred thousand gold from the Dwarven Merchants' Guild. Have you been holding back on us, Varric?"
Varric's eyes popped. He put his hands up. "Maker, no! I had no idea. I..." He became sheepish. "I guess I should start reading my mail."
"Would they discuss this transaction by post?" Rainier asked.
"They'd tell me. Yeah. This is probably in my unopened letters at Skyhold, Inky. Sorry about that."
"It's useful, though," Dorian said. "Because she hasn't paid them back, this loan means you personally have leverage over her."
"She apparently used most of that loan to renovate the Winter Palace," Max said, reading the ledger rapidly. "That answers the question of an Orlesian noble earlier. Someone asked how she could afford to renovate the palace with the war going on."
"She didn't even need to borrow that money, then," Dorian said. "I understand the point of presenting a good face, but unless the place was falling apart, this was a needless expense."
"Keep reading," Sera urged Max. "It gets better."
Max turned to the next bookmark and whistled, though he was angry at what it showed. "Divine Justinia loaned her another million gold in Dragon 9:39," he said, "from the Chantry's coffers. That's despicable. That money was tithed..." He scowled. "I'm sure she had the right to do it, and I know that she was Celene's friend, but that's terrible. Do Cassandra and Leliana know this, I wonder?"
"A good question," Dorian remarked. "I hope not, because if so, they have kept it from us for their own reasons."
"I very much doubt Cassandra knows," Varric put in. "This is the sort of thing that would offend her for its corruption. Leliana, though..." He trailed off. "That I cannot say."
"Can the Inquisition call in this debt?" Max asked.
Dorian responded. "Not for funding our own coffers—assuming she even has the money, which it doesn't look like she does—but on behalf of the Chantry, perhaps. A useful thing to know."
Max leafed through the book to the next page Sera had bookmarked. He raised his eyes to Dorian, a wry smirk on his face. "A purchase of books and 'rare artifacts' valued at one hundred fifty thousand gold, from the Minrathous Circle in Tevinter."
Dorian started laughing. "Has she paid them?"
"Purchased on credit. Payments due in monthly installments. She has managed to make one so far." He raised his eyebrows. "Tevinter Circles charge interest rates as high as the Merchants' Guild."
"Wait," Varric said, nudging in front of Max and using his shorter height to his advantage. "Is that true? We need to increase our rates, then. Can't lose the value of fear and infamy."
They were all having quite a good time laughing at Celene's expense—and expenses—when Solas spoke up.
"The 'rare artifacts' were likely stolen by the Tevinters from ancient Elvhenan, or from the Dalish," he said. "She is interested in elven magic."
Well, that was like a pail of ice water over everyone—except for Sera, who merely sniffed. "Elfy elves."
"I was particularly curious about her budget for the disposable halla statues," Max said, his tone serious again, even somber. "She uses them in magical locks all over the place, but using one destroys it." He gave Solas a nod. "I know a bit about the halla's importance to the Dalish, so turning it into a single-use disposable trinket is very disrespectful. But," he concluded, "that won't matter to these nobles. What will matter is if she's wasted money that she doesn't have."
"Hmm," Sera said. "I didn't mark that down."
Max paged through the ledger, eyes scanning the pages rapidly. "Ah—she has them, or her accountant has them, listed as a monthly expense. They're made of carved stone." He shook his head. "That requires an artisan to make each one. If she was determined to have them, she could've cut costs by having a smith use a mold and forge them in bulk." He sniffed in disgust. "She spends a thousand gold a month on halla statues for her locks."
"And they aren't even secure," Dorian pointed out, "since one statue unlocks anything that uses this type of lock. If she had used keys like everyone else in Thedas does, she wouldn't have this monthly expense, and her rooms would be more secure too!"
"But she wouldn't get to fancy herself a connoisseur of Dalish craft," Max said with a roll of his eyes. He continued through the ledger.
Celene had been even more profligate than he had expected, spending enormous sums on luxury goods and arcane artifacts. Pages with war-related expenses, typically quite large, interrupted the series of entries listing Celene's personal expenditures. The size of the sums required to defend against Gaspard showed that Celene should have tightened her belt instead of continuing to spend lavishly, but she had not. In fact, the amounts of money spent on "rare books" and "arcane artifacts" only increased with time.
In addition to the big loans that Sera had bookmarked, she had borrowed smaller amounts from House Montfort and House Campana of Antiva. The account book only showed the finances of House Valmont, but at the bottom of every day's ledger was a running total of House Valmont's balances. About three-quarters through the book, that value appeared in red ink.
Empress Celene had indeed brought House Valmont into bankruptcy.
Max then saw a cash infusion from the Imperial Treasury to House Valmont's coffers. That one, he noted, had no loan papers accompanying it, and there were a couple of suspicious and comparatively small payments to one Lady Mantillon nearby in the ledger, all listed as "personal assistance."
Varric gasped. "Holy shit. Did she steal from the Imperial Treasury?"
"What makes you say that?" Max asked. "There are no loan papers, but..."
He pointed at the payments to Lady Mantillon. "That's the Dowager. She's infamous. A 'black widow.' Eight... nine?... husbands, all dead in strange circumstances. But she is a member of the Council of Heralds, and they would have to authorize that payment to House Valmont. There are no loan papers because it isn't a loan. These, my friend, are bribes to the Dowager to release the money. It's the only thing they can be. And I suspect that no one else on the Council knows about it."
"Considering that it includes Duke Prosper de Montfort, Duke Gaspard's de Chalons uncle, and the son of Vivienne's Duke Bastien, I would tend to agree with that assessment," Dorian said.
"Holy Maker," Max whispered, eyes wide. "This..."
"Yeah."
Everyone else understood the import of this, even Sera. "I was laughing at the fact that you and Dorian had personal leverage over her through the Merchants' Guild and Minrathous Circle," Max said finally, "but this is... this is criminal." Suddenly he became afraid of the book that he held, and he shoved it into the satchel, which he handed to Varric instead of Sera.
"Inky..." Varric began.
"We can't have this in our possession when I confront Celene. You have to get this out of here. Do you understand me?"
Varric's eyes widened as he took the Inquisitor's meaning.
"If anything happens to us, publish it. Expose it." He narrowed his gaze. "Take any vengeance that you see fit to take. I will tell her what will happen if she harms me. The only way I can use this and survive the confrontation is if the book itself is beyond her reach." He shivered. "And it isn't just Celene. There is not a noble in this palace that wouldn't kill us all for that book."
When Varric disappeared to secure the priceless, unthinkably dangerous book, Max felt his shock and terror transmute into anger.
This is the person we're going to let keep the throne? he thought. A spendthrift who drove her House into bankruptcy by her own luxury expenses and obsessions? Who has been reduced to holding peace talks with the man who has tried to depose her with violence? Who made a criminal deal with a woman who is almost certainly a multiple murderess in order to steal money from her country?
He was almost inclined to let her be assassinated and the traitor Gaspard take the throne. But that could lead to war between Orlais and Ferelden, he thought. And my plan will still leave them both weakened. I knew that what I got on Celene might be bad. It's worse than I thought, but that's all right—as long as she doesn't have me killed when I confront her. I hope that she will restrain herself when I tell her what'll happen if I am killed, instead of thinking that she can also hunt down Varric before he exposes the book. He steeled himself for the thought. I guess Josephine might've been right after all. Corypheus could have killed me and so could she.
He, Dorian, Sera, and Rainier hurried into the trophy room to see what there was to be found about Gaspard.
The trophy room was deserted except for a trio of guards who stood in front of some doors, chattering vulgarly about "ginger kitchen wenches" as if they were objects. Then they shifted to discussing some battle or other, still unaware that they had company, thanks to Max and Dorian's subtle distraction spells.
"Let me shoot an arrow," Sera whispered. "It'll get them away from there."
"I don't want you attacked," Max objected.
"I won't be." She smiled, nocked an arrow, and sent it flying down the corridor.
The guards dropped their discussion as soon as the arrow sailed over their heads. Sera stifled a snicker as she, Rainier, and the mages ducked behind some bestiary. Max cast another distraction spell to keep the guards from focusing on him. "Into the room!"
The room itself was empty, and they knew they had little time. Sera and Dorian remained in the corridor to keep the guards distracted, while Max and Rainier rifled through the conspicuous documents.
"Ah!" Max said, picking up a sheet of paper.
Philippe,
Move in on the western wing of the palace when I send you three shots of brandy. Not taking any chances.
Gaspard
"We should get out of here," Rainier urged him. "There might be more to find elsewhere."
They had entered the royal wing when a sharp scream distracted them. Max dashed into the room it seemed to be coming from.
A Harlequin stood over a bloodied elven maid, about to strike. Before the Harlequin could land a lethal blow, Rainier head-butted him and threw him out the window.
"Oh, thank you," the maid gasped as Max pulled her to her feet. "Inquisitor? Is it you?"
"Yes," Max said, removing his glove and showing her the mark.
"What is going on?" the woman said. "No one is supposed to be here. Briala said..." Her gaze hardened. "I shouldn't have trusted her."
Max raised an eyebrow. "I can't imagine Briala meant for this to happen."
"She risks us all! She has been watching the Grand Duke all night and wanted someone to search his sister's room."
"This is Florianne's room?
"It used to be. It was her private room in Halamshiral since she was a child, but this part of the palace was damaged, and the royal family moved to the guest wing."
"What were you looking for here?"
"The message didn't say. I should have known it was a setup!"
Max was unsure how to handle this situation. There had certainly been many elves slain tonight by the Harlequins and Venatori, and he could not blame her for her anger about the risks that Briala was asking them to take. But the idea of Briala setting up this servant for a trap... it made no sense, unless there was something that Max did not know.
"Why do you think Briala would send you into a trap?" he asked. "Have you had a falling-out with her? Any reason she would want to target you?"
"I knew her, when she was Celene's pet. Now she wants to play revolution. But I remember. She was sleeping with the Empress who purged our alienage."
Max and Dorian shared uncomfortable glances. "Celene is the Empress of Orlais and Briala is an elven woman," Dorian said. "An elven woman who grew up serving Celene. This does not sound like 'sleeping with the Empress.' This sounds like... something else." His gaze hardened, but this was not directed at the woman before them, Max knew. "We've overheard enough nobles tonight speaking of elven servants as objects that they're entitled to fuck," he said, emphasizing the word, putting every ounce of venom that he could into it to make it ugly and dirty instead of erotic. "I don't think Briala is your enemy, madam."
Max could tell that this had been very difficult for Dorian to say, but he was extremely proud of him for doing so. He put a hand on Dorian's shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze.
The maid was considering his words, though anger was still in her eyes.
Max decided to speak up. "I've been searching the palace myself, not knowing what I would find—just looking for anything that would be useful to put these loathsome people in my power. That is probably what Briala wanted you to do. But," he said after considering, "I will tell her to protect you and your comrades better in the future. I think I have an alliance of sorts with her."
Yet another stone halla statuette was burned to dust as Max opened the doors to the Empress's private quarters. He could scarcely believe it. Her fixation with these objects, whatever might be the motive behind that, was compromising her already poor security.
He bounded up a short set of ornamental stairs and found himself facing a rather hazardous-looking bed, its headboard and baseboard molded with metal points sharp enough to skewer. I have a nicer bed at Skyhold. And at my father's home in Ostwick, he thought. A four-poster with a canopy. This is—
But his thoughts instantly fled his mind at the sight before him. Bound to the bed was a naked soldier.
Max immediately thought of Gaspard's supposed sneak attack. So this is how Celene thinks to thwart it? Capturing them and sexually torturing them? He recalled something he had read as a boy, enjoying the forbidden thrill of sneaking the book: a scandalous autobiography by an Orlesian marquis, de Sade, whose practices in bed involved torture and bondage. They were both titillating and infamous, and had actually resulted in a word being coined from his name.
Max hardly cared if Celene enjoyed these practices with an equal partner, but that could not be the case here, just as it would not have been the case with Briala. If it were possible, his disgust only deepened.
"This is not what it looks like," the soldier told him in surprisingly calm tones. He chuckled. "Honestly, I would have preferred it if it were what it looks like. The Empress led me to believe I would be rewarded for betraying the Grand Duke. This... was not what I hoped for."
"Oh, I think it's clear what you hoped for," Max said with a roll of his eyes.
"Please, I beg you, don't tell Gaspard!" the chevalier pleaded. "The Empress beguiled me into giving her information about... plans for troop movements in the palace tonight. She knows everything. Everything! The Duke's surprise attack has been countered before it ever began. She's turned it into a trap. The moment he strikes, she'll have him arrested for treason."
Max, Dorian, Sera, and Rainier exchanged looks of amusement and irony. "Is that what she told you?" Max said cynically. "She most assuredly does not know 'everything.'" He smirked at his friends and lover again. "Does she know that her palace has been infiltrated by Venatori? That there is a threat to her life from Corypheus as well as Gaspard?" That we have stolen her account book, which contains some of the most dangerous information in Thedas? And that we are plotting with Briala to tear this decadent, corrupt empire apart?
"Venatori! Corypheus! He is here?"
"He isn't here, but he has an agent here, in this very court. We have already killed several dozen Venatori and we expect to find more before the night is over. It is because of us that they haven't slaughtered every guest in the ballroom already."
"Maker save us all!"
Max made a quick decision. "Celene does not have the control that she deludes herself she has. I can say that with absolute, one-hundred-percent certainty. There are more things going on that I haven't, and won't, share with you. But you know about Gaspard's plot. That could come in useful."
"Gaspard? I beg of you—do not make me—I will speak against Celene—"
"And say what, that she is attempting, however pitifully, to defend her own home against an attack? What good is that? No, if you testify, you testify against Gaspard."
The chevalier sighed. "As you insist, Inquisitor."
They left the Empress's bedroom and rounded several corners to turn into a corridor filled with crude wooden platforms. Max's heart began thumping in unease. He had a feeling the situation was about to come to a head...
He opened a door and immediately was surrounded by archers. A glowing rift glimmered before his eyes.
"Inquisitor! What a pleasure. I wasn't certain you'd attend."
Max knew that voice. He glanced up, completely unsurprised to see Grand Duchess Florianne standing on a balcony.
"You are a challenge. I had no idea if you'd taken my bait, if your arrogant self-assurance would overcome your suspicion."
"I would have thought that you people would be quite good at guessing whether arrogance or suspicion would win out. At the core, that's all that your much-vaunted Grand Game is, after all." He shrugged cockily.
"Such a pity," Florianne said. "You could almost be Orlesian, if you were just a little subtler." Her lips curled, intending that to be an insult. "Corypheus insisted that the Empress die tonight, and I would hate to disappoint him."
"Did he promise you the Orlesian crown? Is that why you joined him?"
"You think too small, Inquisitor. Corypheus intends to remake the entire world, and when he ascends to the Black City, I will rule southern Thedas in his name. Though I admit, I also will relish the look on Gaspard's face when he realizes I've outplayed him. He always was a sore loser."
So Gaspard is innocent of this part, at least, Max thought, storing that away.
"I am glad that you decided to walk into my trap while knowing it was one. I will take pleasure in seeing you defeated by your own pride." She turned to the archers. "Kill him and bring me his marked hand. Corypheus will enjoy having that trophy."
As the archers began to shoot, the rift started opening. Gritting his teeth, Max focused on the rift while his friends fought the physical enemies.
Several wisps emerged from the rift, shooting blasts of energy at Max, draining his own energy level with their attacks. He poured magic into the rift, feeling pain in his hand but knowing that he had to do this. A thunderous blast rocked the open courtyard as he made the rift quake and weaken. The wisps were injured too by their connection to the Fade, and two of them vanished.
But before Max could catch his breath, a huge, horned, dark shape emerged from the rift, its own hide tough enough to be armor. A pair of electrified whips trailed from its fists. A pride demon. Florianne's last remark flashed through his memories. She had known this was what it would be... or is this what I have drawn to myself tonight? Max wondered darkly.
Sera and Rainier were shooting down and cleaving through the archers, allowing Dorian to intercede to fight the demon. He cast Horror, one of only a handful of spells that could stagger this type of demon.
While the thing's guard was down, the monster hunched over in momentary paralysis, Max and Dorian attacked it with everything they had.
We can't take too long in this fight, he thought in a panic as he slammed the demon with magic. She will go back into the ballroom and assassinate Celene.
Morrigan's words suddenly came back to him: "A great fool." Celene had hired Morrigan partly to "see into the future." Could Morrigan somehow do that, perhaps through the Fade? It did show possible futures, he knew from his encounter with the envy demon. And did that mean that Florianne had Harlequin skills, since they dressed as court fools?
He could not focus on these questions, as the pride demon still demanded their attention. They hit it again and again with spells, smashing it to the ground, terrifying it, green lightning flashing through the courtyard all along as the rift crackled, until at last it melted away in a pool of matter.
Then the rift changed, and another pride demon emerged.
Maker, Max thought, getting to his feet, will this ever end? He exchanged a weary look with his friends as they continued the fight.
But at last, they had slain all the Venatori and demons, and the rift was sealed thanks to Max's mark. His hand was throbbing, and he was enraged that this had even been necessary. A rift at the Empress's palace!
He shook his head as he suddenly noticed that they were not alone in the courtyard. Several mercenaries were tied and bound to columns. They had witnessed the entire fight. He and his friends hurried to unbind them.
"Andraste's tits! What was all that?" one asked in a decidedly non-Orlesian accent. It was startling to Max, who had been hearing the Orlesian accent even from the servants all evening—indeed, from everyone except some of his own people. "Were those demons? There aren't any more coming, are there?"
"Of course they were demons," Max said. "And as you see, the rift is sealed. There won't be any more coming from this location."
"Maker bless me. Demons! How could there be demons in the fucking Winter Palace?"
"A question I would be asking myself, if I did not know the answer. Answers," he amended, since both Celene's reckless profligacy and Florianne's treachery were to blame for this sorry state.
"Gaspard," the mercenary said. "I knew he was a bastard, but I didn't think he'd feed me to fucking horrors over a damned bill."
"Duke Gaspard lured you out here?" Max said, thrown.
"Well, his sister, but it had to come from him, didn't it?"
"No," Max said firmly, "it didn't." He raised an eyebrow. "Duke Gaspard pays his bills, does he?"
"Well, yeah, we sure wouldn't have taken it if he didn't have the coin! The Duke wanted to move on the palace tonight, but he didn't have enough fancy chevaliers. So he hired me and my men. He had to offer us triple our usual pay to come to Orlais."
Gaspard has money, Max thought, unless he too is massively in debt and spending on credit. That is why Celene wants to catch him in the act. She wants to seize his assets to pay off her own debts, which she can only do if she can attaint him. Pieces of the sleazy puzzle were fitting in place.
"You aren't Orlesian," Dorian observed.
"Well, no. Born and raised in Denerim, and I should've stayed there." He clutched his face. "Maker. We can't go back. The Crown'll call this treason, taking a job from the likes of him, what with the hostilities and all."
"Want a new job?" Max asked. "One that pays even better? You could work for the Inquisition. We can protect you."
"I'm game," the Fereldan mercenary said at once. "Not like we have many options anymore. And anything's better than this bullshit."
"I agree completely," Max muttered. He gazed at the man. "Testify about Gaspard's plot for us, first."
"Will do, Inquisitor."
They returned to the ballroom, blood-spattered but pleased and smug. Leliana raised her eyebrows in surprise at the fact that Varric was not with Max, but before she could inquire, everyone's gaze turned to the entrance of Grand Duke Gaspard and Grand Duchess Florianne. Florianne's nose was stuck in the air, as if she already regarded herself as a goddess. No doubt she was sure that the Inquisitor and his people were dead.
Cullen then hurried up to Max and his friends. He gaped at the blood on their clothes before recollecting himself. "Thank the Maker you're back. The Empress will begin her speech soon. What do we do?"
Max's gaze hardened. "Wait here. The Grand Duchess is Corypheus's agent. I'm going to have a word with her."
Cullen gasped. "What!"
"We have just returned from fighting off her Venatori and closing a Fade rift in the garden," he said. "She was there. She confessed all. Varric has left the palace, for reasons that will become clear in a bit, but gather the others and be ready." Without another word, he began to climb the steps behind the podium where the Chalons siblings were standing.
Florianne realized that she was being approached a few seconds in. She turned around, and her eyes momentarily widened as if she had seen a ghost. Max knew that in front of her, the balcony overlooked the ballroom. He had an audience. Good, he thought. I want an audience for this.
It was the most Orlesian thought he had had tonight, he realized with irony.
"We owe the court one more show, Your Grace," he called out as gasps erupted from the ballroom.
"Inquisitor," she said, her voice oddly defeated.
He smirked. She knew she had lost. "The eyes of every noble in the Empire are upon us, Your Grace. Do remember to smile. This is your party. You wouldn't want them to think you had... lost control."
She was trembling. "Who would not be delighted to speak with you, Inquisitor?"
He closed in like a predator. These fools think that the Game is about gestures, masks, and winks. Oh no. That is like saying Wicked Grace is about having a blank face. In the end, you require a winning hand. And I've got one.
"I seem to recall you saying, 'Kill him and bring me his marked hand. Corypheus will enjoy having that trophy.'"
The guests gasped in shock. Gaspard took several steps back from her.
"When your archers failed to kill me in the garden, I feared you wouldn't save me this last dance." He circled around her. "It's so easy to lose your good graces. You even framed your own brother for the murder of a Council emissary."
Gaspard stared at his sister in shock and betrayal.
"It was an ambitious plan. Celene, Gaspard, and the entire Council of Heralds. All your enemies under one roof. And then you learned that the Inquisition would be here! How your master must have exulted."
"This is very entertaining," Florianne said shakily, "but you do not imagine anyone believes your wild stories?"
From the royal balcony, Celene spoke up at last. "That would be a matter for a judge to decide, cousin."
Florianne gasped at the realization that the Empress did consider the matter worthy of a criminal trial. She turned desperately to her brother. "Gaspard, you cannot believe this? You know I would never—"
He and Briala turned aside and walked away, as the Empress's guards approached to apprehend the Grand Duchess.
"You're under arrest, Your Grace."
As they hauled her away to the shocked, scandalized, delighted whispers of the court, Max turned to Celene, then Gaspard, Briala, and—with a glance at another face in the crowd, one watching him in surprised respect—Duke Prosper de Montfort. "Your Imperial Majesty. Your Graces. Ambassador. I believe we should speak in private. Elsewhere."
"Your sister attempted regicide in front of the entire court, Gaspard," Briala accused.
"You're the spymaster," he countered. "If anyone knew this atrocity was coming, it was you."
"You don't deny your involvement, then."
"I do deny it!" he stormed. "I knew nothing of Florianne's plans. But you—you knew it all and did nothing!"
Briala scoffed. "I don't know which is better, that you think I'm all-seeing or that you're trying so hard to play innocent and failing."
"Enough," Celene said. "We must not bicker while Tevinter plots against our nation!"
Duke Prosper laughed. "A bit late for that sort of moral posturing, is it not, cousin? All you have done for the past two years is bicker while Tevinter plotted against this nation. You two have brought this nation to ruin!"
Two, Max noted. He doesn't blame Briala.
"We all know where your loyalties lie, Prosper," Celene sneered, "and they are not with Orlais, but with those warmonger apostates in Kirkwall. Why the Inquisitor has even invited you here—" She broke off. "For the safety of the Empire, I demand answers from you all."
"You," Max interjected, stepping forward, "are so very confident that those answers will not implicate you, Your Majesty."
Leliana, Josephine, and several others gasped.
"I beg your pardon?" she snapped. "How dare you?"
Max smirked. "Both of you are implicated. Gaspard, you brought in chevaliers and Fereldan mercenaries to attempt to overthrow her."
The Grand Duke scoffed, flustered, but Max detected the weakness. "I most certainly did not! You have no proof—"
"Oh, but I do. I have a letter from you to one 'Philippe,'" he said, noting how Gaspard paled behind his mask at that name, "and the testimony of a chevalier and the captain of the mercenary company you hired." He sneered. "I do not absolve the Empress of having dreadful security in this place, to let so many enemies in, but your sister took advantage of the people you were smuggling in to also smuggle in Venatori. Your sister is guilty of high treason, but so are you. And there are multiple witnesses. I don't imagine the sentence is very pleasant. Indeed, Orlesians are well-known for... imaginative forms of execution." Surprised at the words coming out of his mouth, he continued, forking a sharp look at the rapidly paling chevalier. "Disembowelment, drawing, and quartering... starvation in an oubliette... écartèlement, dismemberment by four horses... not very pleasant at all." He flashed a cruel white smile as Gaspard trembled.
He turned to Celene. "And you need not smile, Your Majesty. I happen to know exactly why your security is so poor."
Celene drew herself up in a huff. "You think that because you have power over my cousins, you can threaten me too. You have done the Empire a service tonight, but you get above yourself—"
Max turned to Gaspard. "Ser, your uncle is on the Orlesian Council of Heralds. Does he know that, in exchange for bribes, the Marquise Montillon authorized an illegal, secret payment of two million—"
"Silence!" Empress Celene suddenly shouted. She was stark white with fear. "You dare—you invent these lies—"
"Oh, I find this very interesting," Duke Prosper said. "Do go on, Inquisitor. I am on the Council of Heralds too... for now."
"There is nothing!" Celene spat. "It is a lie."
"We both know it is not a lie, Your Majesty. To cover House Valmont's growing expenses, you also borrowed one million from the Chantry, authorized by the late Divine Justinia—"
In the background, Cassandra and Leliana both gasped.
"—one million from the Bank of Treviso in Antiva," Max continued relentlessly, "and five hundred thousand from the Dwarven Merchants' Guild, among other, smaller sums. You spent a hundred fifty thousand buying rare books and artifacts from the Circle in Minrathous and had to arrange a payment plan with them, because you did not have the money to pay it all at once." He smiled darkly. "And that's the sum of it... appropriately enough. You don't have the money. House Valmont is bankrupt due to your profligate spending and mismanagement of the war." He gazed at Gaspard. "That's why you wanted to catch the Grand Duke. You would have the right to seize his assets."
Celene was shaking in fury and terror, her large skirt swaying in the breeze. Max noticed the moment that she regained a semblance of self-control. "You are a clever one, Inquisitor. I will admit this. But you have made a serious mistake." Her gaze hardened behind her mask. "Not one of you will leave this palace alive tonight. That is the price you pay for knowing too much. I will recover my account book and we shall settle this matter among our family."
Max laughed, meeting her gaze with his own. "Do you really think you will find the account book here? It's long gone, Your Majesty."
Celene's face fell again. Her gaze darted over the Inquisition members, comparing the people in this clearing with the people she knew had been on the Inquisition guest list. One was missing. She seemed genuinely afraid as she realized who it was.
"I sent your book away with Varric Tethras hours ago," Max continued, "with instructions that if anything should happen to us, now or in the future, to publish it in its entirety. Varric Tethras. I am sure you know who he is."
Duke Prosper began laughing. "Oh, this is too good."
Celene seemed to realize at last that she had been defeated. Through clenched teeth, she turned back to Max. "What do you want?" she spat.
Max stepped forward. "You two—you will stop this bickering. You have nearly destroyed your country with this war. Do the sensible thing, as your class and culture reckons it. Share the crown. Your Grace, you are nearly seventy. Your Majesty, you are nearly past your childbearing years, with all due respect. Who do you think will follow you, either of you? Do you even care?"
Celene sputtered. "You would have me bring this—this old man into my bed—"
"Such things aren't unusual in the Orlesian aristocracy," Max replied. "It solves a lot of problems. Only you can clear the charge of treason, and only he can restore the family funds—if I surmise correctly from what I was told about your pay to the Fereldan mercenaries," he said to Gaspard. "The alternative is that I will expose you both, which will empower His Grace Duke Prosper."
"Might I ask why you do not just do that, Inquisitor?" that gentleman asked.
"I'm afraid you will have to direct that question to my advisors, Ser," Max said smoothly.
Briala inclined her head at Max. He had not called her out for anything. He gave her a nod and returned to the humiliated, ill-matched, metaphorically defrocked couple-to-be. "And one other thing. Briala receives a title of nobility in the Dales."
"What!" Gaspard erupted.
Max gazed levelly at them. "It would be unfortunate if certain activities in the Dales by the both of you came to light. Activities regarding the 'Freemen.'"
Celene scowled. "I knew it was a mistake to do that. You fool—"
"It was your idea!"
Max rolled his eyes at Dorian. What a happy couple they will be.
The Inquisition members milled about Max after the two returned to the palace to announce their arrangement. Max could tell that several of them were not pleased with him at all, and some were frightened of what he had just done.
Duke Prosper remained in the clearing. He cleared his throat when the silence became awkward. All eyes then snapped to him.
"Clever, Inquisitor. Quite a checkmate. But I do have to wonder at the Inquisition's definition of justice and fairness. Neither of those two deserved this crown. And while you might be secure enough from their retaliation, what of Briala and myself? We heard the same damning information, and I am sure my exalted cousins will not forget it. I have a son, Trevelyan. And Varric Tethras may be safe for the time being, but the Empress knows he has that book. Are we all so disposable to you?"
His words cut, because Max knew they were true. He felt ashamed. "Do you want a reward, Lord Duke? I—"
"A reward? The only reward that could have protected me while I remain in Orlais is the one you saw fit to deny me. Maybe you even wanted to grant it to me, but you were afraid of going against them." He sneered at Leliana, Cassandra, and Vivienne in particular. "You are weak, Trevelyan. I attended this ball in the hopes that you would be strong enough to do what needed to be done, and I would not need to execute my backup plan. But so be it. If the Inquisition cannot do any better than this, I will pursue that plan. And it should be crystal clear what it is." He gave Briala a curt nod. "Maker turn His gaze upon your cause, my lady. If these people prove perfidious, you may have other allies to your northeast."
Briala stared back confidently. "I am well aware of my danger, Duke Prosper. I will gather my allies and strength, and act swiftly."
Duke Prosper doffed his hat and bowed to her. "I will leave the ball before they strike against me. My guests should be safe enough. They do not know the secrets that were revealed here. And the de Launcets are close allies of Viscountess Hawke. The Comte is on her Small Council. Even Celene and Gaspard are not fools enough to start a war with Kirkwall." He gave the Inquisition a final look of contempt before stalking off into the night.
"I should warn Varric," Max said as they reentered the palace. His guilt was weighing heavily on him.
"Of course," Dorian agreed, "but I'm sure he knows the danger."
Max hesitated for a moment before taking the plunge. "He should tell Hawke and Anders about the book. Even if Gaspard's money bails her out of bankruptcy, the information about the bribes to Lady Mantillon to steal money from the Imperial Treasury is something that 'black ledger ink' will not scratch out. Celene will threaten Varric's life unless the cost to her is too great, and a war against the Free Mages, Kirkwall's bombs and rockets, and its Vimmark-Minanter allies would certainly count as a great cost."
"Good idea," Dorian agreed.
Leliana, Cassandra, Cullen, and Josephine approached Max. He could tell that they were simultaneously stunned, frightened, and exasperated with him.
He decided to play it cool for now. "I can play the Game after all, can't I?" he said lightly to Josephine.
"You... most certainly can, Inquisitor," she said. "We will need to discuss the repercussions of your decisions later. But it is done. Corypheus's agent is in custody, and Orlais is secure. We should enjoy what is left of the night."
The guests at the ball were already dancing cheerfully at the betrothal announcement that Celene and Gaspard had made, wallowing in blissful ignorance of how utterly unfit they both were to rule. Max stifled a roll of his eyes at such willful delusion.
"You look exhausted, amatus," Dorian said from just behind him, his breath on Max's ear, startling him out of his flurry of negative emotions.
Max turned around, smiling, as some of the tension left his body. "Just exhausted in mind."
Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Just the mind? After all that fighting?"
"Well... fair enough." Max stretched his arms. "But it won't really kick in until tomorrow."
"Then in that case, let us follow Ambassador Montilyet's advice this once, and enjoy the evening. May I have this dance, Inquisitor?"
Max's smile broadened, and he felt his cheeks flush with happiness for the first time this evening—not smug glee, but genuine, wholesome happiness. It was a better balm than anything else might be. "You may."
Their clothes were spattered with blood, some of it their own, and Max knew that sweat must be mixing with the scent of their cologne by now. But he didn't care. He also didn't care as numerous pairs of eyes turned as they began a dance with vigor and passion that went well beyond what would be expected of mere dance partners. In Orlais, it seemed acceptable enough, if unusual, for two women to openly announce a relationship, but men openly being together seemed to be more uncommon here. Let them talk, Max decided as he whirled Dorian around the floor.
Back at the Skyhold war room, later.
The Advisors, Cassandra, and Vivienne were all either very displeased or very worried—or both. Max braced himself. This had been put off until they all returned to their home base, but it could not be postponed any longer.
Leliana began it. "Inquisitor," she said, "what you managed at the Winter Palace was very impressive. I genuinely had no idea of Celene's bankruptcy. I think everyone had an eye-opener that night." She gave him a sad smile. "I wish I had not learned about Divine Justinia's improper loan to Celene, but ignorance is not a virtue. You were masterful in your play. And the fact that you wanted to save them all, to keep them all alive, speaks very well of you as a person. It shows a gentle heart, respect for life, and willingness to grant second chances—as you also showed with Rainier and Dagna. If Andraste did have a hand in events, she chose her Herald well. Please understand that I mean this sincerely."
You think it was that? Max thought darkly, but he tried not to give it away to her. Maybe at one point I might've had that motive, but not now.
Leliana did not see any clue in his visage that her take on his motives was wrong. She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "But you do realize that they will just continue to plot against each other, do you not? We needed resolution. We needed a clear victor and we do not have one."
Josephine chimed in. "I concur. I fear that this wasn't the right time for excessive displays of cleverness and compassion, Inquisitor."
"I usually am of like mind with you," Cullen said, "but I'm afraid I have to side with them as well this time." He grimaced apologetically.
"And I," said Cassandra.
"I as well," said Vivienne.
Max exchanged a pointed, blink-and-miss-it smile with Dorian. He leaned back ever so slightly in his chair and raised his eyebrows at them. "Then set your minds at ease. Compassion was not why I did this, nor did I do it to show off."
Cassandra and Cullen frowned, not immediately following him—but the other three did. Leliana was genuinely shocked that she had missed any hint of it in Max's face, Josephine was gaping in disappointment, and Vivienne looked a bit angry.
"Am I... are we... to understand, then," Leliana said, "that you arranged this outcome... knowing that it solved nothing? And that is why you did it?"
Max kept his cool. "I wouldn't say that. It might not have solved the long-term problem yet, but it has set things in motion that absolutely will solve the Orlesian leadership crisis one way or another."
"Explain, please," Josephine said.
"Celene is thirty-seven. If she has any wits about her, she'll have a child within a year or two, because she'll likely be deposed if she doesn't. —Which, incidentally, would have been true even if I'd had Gaspard eliminated. Briala compared herself to a wasp, but in reality, the idea of installing Celene or Gaspard on the throne alone is making Orlais a wasp—specifically, a wasp with its head cut off. It can still buzz and sting for a little while, but it's doomed." He raised his eyebrows at them. "In a monarchy, if there's no clear heir, that's an invitation to pretenders to try to overthrow the current monarch. Every one of you knows that. How could you have thought that letting either one of them rule alone would settle the underlying problem? You in particular, Leliana. Ferelden faced that exact issue during the Blight."
None of them had an answer for him, which only served to reinforce his darkest suspicion: namely, that they had actually wanted the leader of Orlais dependent on the Inquisition—its forces and the threat thereof—for power.
He continued cynically. "Maybe Celene's child will be Gaspard's and maybe not, but any child she has is still a Valmont and still related to him. He would know that. And then, once such a child is born, one of them will kill the other." He gave them a dark smile. "Either would have plausible deniability. Gaspard's not young, and Celene could easily 'die in childbirth' at her age."
They all, to the last person, gaped at him in surprise at such words.
"Moreover, we exposed Corypheus's agent, so the threat of malign forces using the murder of one and the accusation of treason by the other for their own ends has basically been removed."
They were still gaping in shock, but Leliana recovered first. "Briala," she managed. "She will be Marquise of the Dales. A power base of her own."
"Yes," Max said with a shrug.
"With Gaspard and Celene continuing to scheme against each other, and rumors of discord in their household spreading..."
"Briala might rebel, yes," Max agreed. "If she will consider herself not Marquise of the Elves, but Marquise of the Dales, and unite all its people behind her, she might declare the region independent."
"The last Orlesian imperial holding to break free and become a nation of its own again," Dorian added.
"And you think Celene and Gaspard would sit back and allow that?"
"I think if she consolidates support and they don't, they'll be hard put to stop it. They haven't been able to stop Ferelden from taking borderland. A united Dales is far stronger than the remote or war-torn areas Ferelden annexed. Yes, I think Briala could become strong enough to defy Val Royeaux if she can get her human subjects behind her while not alienating her elven supporters."
"And if she cannot? If the humans reject her unless she crushes her own people, which she will not do?" Josephine asked him, eyebrows raised.
"Then there will be fighting in the Dales between humans and elves, and Ferelden will be opportunistic again and take even more land, maybe even the entire Dales—which will make Ferelden the new empire of the south," Max said bluntly. "Briala's no fool. She'll see that, and I think she'll act accordingly to get some crucial and powerful human allies. She made common cause with us and we're mostly humans. We could even help her."
Dorian smirked at him. The five others were troubled.
"And the prospect of an independent Dales or a Fereldan Empire does not bother you?" Josephine said. "We wanted a strong Orlais. You've arranged an outcome with the intention of reducing it to its Divine Age borders."
"You've gone against our plans," Leliana added.
Dorian spoke up. "Excuse me, but I was under the impression that he was Inquisitor. He's still got the mark on his hand, don't you, Max?" he added ironically. He gazed at Max's open palm. "Ah, there it is!"
"He is Inquisitor, of course," Leliana said with a hint of impatience. "But we are his advisors, and he has disregarded our advice—"
"I'm right here," Max said tightly. That silenced her. "I would have had no issue with a strong Orlais," he continued, "but the advice I received was in conflict. Duke Prosper would have been best for a strong Orlais. He wasn't weakened by the civil war. He hadn't bankrupted his family or committed treason. He hadn't made himself despised by a huge segment of the population. And he has a son. But," Max shrugged, "you didn't want to back him, because it would freeze us out of power." He gazed at them, and Josephine, Cassandra, and Cullen looked abashed, at least. "So I had to use my own judgment and that of my other advisors." He gave a pointed smile to Dorian. "With this outcome, there is a chance that there'll be a clear heir someday, so that when Gaspard dies and Celene reaches her change of life—or dies herself—the succession won't fall into utter chaos."
"You don't know that this will solve that problem," said Leliana.
"No, but it has a far better chance than killing one of them would have."
"What of Briala, then? How do you square away the chance of an independent Dales with strengthening Orlais?"
"I don't," Max said bluntly. "I can't. But here's the problem. None of you have been in the Dales, either at all, or to the extent Dorian and I—and others—have. The people there hate Celene and Gaspard. You didn't hear the way Fairbanks talked about them, and he is a well-bred, polite leadership figure. Those who don't have to be diplomatic were saying far worse. Celene and Gaspard ruined their lives: destroyed everything they owned, got their children killed in the war, sent them fleeing into bandit-infested lands, turned a blind eye to their own chevaliers raping them. Some of them were turning to Ferelden for safety and rights, they hated Celene and Gaspard so much. Those two lost control of the Dales and neither of them was going to regain it except by brutal repression. In all your political scheming and planning, did you not take into account the views of, as Sera would say, the 'little people'?"
"Unfortunately, their views do not usually matter in Orlais," Josephine said. "I do not condone this, but it is a fact."
"They mattered this time. The fact that Ferelden was making maps obsolete proves that they mattered." He paused, giving them all a pointed look. "Again, Duke Prosper might have been able to gain their support. He hadn't done any of those things. But you said we shouldn't back him, so empowering Briala was the other option. The consequence of that is that the Dales might rebel and break free of Orlais. This isn't my fault. Celene and Gaspard made this mess themselves, and you forbade me from pursuing the course of action that would have strengthened Orlais the most."
Leliana was giving Max and Dorian thoughtful looks. Finally she spoke. "This is taking a grave risk. An elven head of state will not be accepted as legitimate by many other heads of state."
"I'd wager that Ferelden, Kirkwall, Starkhaven, and Rivain would accept her. For Ferelden, the Dales would be a buffer against Orlais. And remember, we didn't want to support Prosper because we'd have no influence with him, right? We do have influence with Briala. So we have a potentially strong leader in the Dales, who can hold off further Fereldan aggression if she manages to unite elves and humans in the Dales behind her, and she owes her title to our politicking."
Dorian chimed in. "We wanted a 'strong Orlais,' but why? Was it not because that was a way of obtaining stability and order in these parts? To have a strong southern power to deter the Venatori and the Qunari? Max's solution provides those things too, if Briala can gain support in the Dales. She'll have the support of her eastern neighbor—and put an end to its adventurism—as well as the one to her north too, as he said. The Dales will have allies, and we will have a way into that 'grand alliance' after all."
Leliana sighed. "It is done. We have to hope for the best."
After the meeting had broken up, Leliana retreated to her rookery to think. She had not expected this kind of independent action—and rational defense of it—from the Inquisitor. It was apparent to her that he had indeed wanted to support Prosper, undoubtedly because of the man's interest in the Free Marches. That implied that this outcome was not, as he had claimed, a second-best salvaging of the situation, but quite possibly a spiteful defiance of his own advisors.
The match between Celene and Gaspard may pacify Orlais in the areas inside its ancient borders, she thought, but by giving them "Orlais proper" and giving Briala the Dales, instead of trying to consolidate all power in the Empire behind one person, he has set up a future revolt in the Dales. And he knows it. Her thoughts darkened. He is of Marcher nobility, a Libertarian mage, and hence his loyalty is to that region and the Free Mages in Kirkwall. And he has proven that he will act on those loyalties, and is intelligent and clever enough to make plans without my knowing. I didn't want to go behind the Inquisitor's back again, after the incident with the Freemen of the Dales. I thought we had reached a more favorable accord when we agreed about countering Grand Cleric Petrice's attack on Vivienne. But if he is going to work against the advice of those who have been playing this game for far longer than he has, and see the situation with far more jaded and realistic eyes than he does with his idealistic dreams of his homeland as a great power... then I may have to keep him out of the loop in the future.
Notes: The opening scene with Celene's account book is heavily inspired by a scene in the film Sneakers where the characters are laughing it up, playing with the Codebreaker, having a great time, until the deadly danger of what they have collectively hits them.