Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or Star Wars
Dragon Wars: The Force of Others
Episode 41: The battle of Val Royeaux part 3
Karnax shipping yards
Fausten stood with his arms crossed behind his back. He was looking with disdain at the damage to the yard. It was in his eyes the unacceptable loss of an effective trading hub that was free of the bureaucracy of most imperial ports. His ship and forces were relatively intact; the Dominance had taken the brunt which was fitting. Captain Stark wanted the glory, so he could accept the responsibility. The Riot had been completely destroyed and the crew welcomed into the Skylark, Fausten had deployed the rescue workers and in turn the Venomous had routed some of the escaping civilian transports. Then there was the Quell, it had gone off to the side, seemingly abandoning the fight before releasing a contingent of fighters that made up for the Dominance's failure. Bombs though still hit the facility, a pencil pusher (or whatever accounted for pencils in the 'advanced' galaxy) would deem the shipping yards a failure and have them fully decommissioned, or perhaps just leave the wreckage to be occupied by pirates.
"Captain, Pavus's squad has contacted us, they've managed to secure the prisoners," the communication's officer said.
He looked over his shoulder at the young man and narrowed his eyes. There was five minutes to spare, Fausten expected there to be three minutes. The rebels should have put up a much harder fight than that. He walked over to the station and gestured for the officer to give him the holo dish. The emitters created the image of Dorian, whose well styled hair was a mess with sweat running down his face.
"Captain Thrennhold, my apologies, the commander didn't quite make it, but we've managed to convince rebels to surrender and are on our way to the transport," Dorian explained.
"Very good Pavus, continue onwards," Fausten said.
He gripped the handle of his sword as he turned and made his way to the lift. Though he was no mage and certainly had no synchronicity with the force, he was no fool either. He waited in the hanger for the troop transport to come back, when it did and the troops and prisoners came out, he raised his hand to get their attention.
"All troopers remove your helmets," he commanded.
In order to be an affective commander, he memorised every face and name under his command. Though he could never recount their stories, he at least knew who was behind each helmet. It was a long and drawn out process, the artificial gravity and air seemed heavier than usual as one by one each trooper and mage who accompanied Dorian removed their helmets and masks.
"Is everything all right captain?" Dorian asked.
Fausten analysed each of them, the thirty survivors from the attack and their twenty prisoners. He relaxed his hand, moving it away from his sword as he nodded his head.
"Everything is just fine Dorian, well done, see the prisoners to their cells and then join me in my quarters," he said.
"With respect captain it has been a long day, perhaps during lunch," Dorian said with his usual charm.
"Immediately Dorian, it is both request and order," Fausten said.
The imperial captain noted how the unmasked Mandalorian and the Botham leader looked at Dorian. He may have been wrong about what Dorian's plan was, that didn't mean the mage didn't have something else up his sleeve.
Thedas-Orlais
Gaarkhan howled as he banked his fighter to the right. The booms and roars he could hear through the thin alloy of the ridiculously underdeveloped Tie fighter, were like music to his ears, even though unlike any human rebel the sounds hurt his more. He and his fellow Wookiees understood the ignorance of the natives of the primitive world, they thought them animals just like anyone in the empire did. But the joke was on them, Gaarkhan's kind were much more advanced and far more civilised than anyone from Thedas. An annoyed growl came from Gaarkhan's radio and in response the Wookiee leader let out a series of raid huffs, the equivalent of a laugh.
"Elf girl very annoying, can I rip her arms off?" Bokwarro asked.
"How many times do I have to ask? Can't any of you just talk normally?" the elf 'Sera' Gaarkhan thought they called her, could be heard even through the explosions and the shelter of her gunnery station.
Bokwarro was the pilot of a stolen Lamba class shuttle, one the rebels were using for transport before drawing it into the battle of Orlais. Together with Gaarkhan's squadron and the gunners on the hill tops, they intercepted the Imperial reinforcements, in particular their gunships. Gaarkhan had to give Loghain credit, he knew that the Sith would bomb the Orlesian capital to the ground, he anticipated the trap in order to set a trap of his own. The hypocrisy and selfishness of the Orlesian leadership was exposed, leading to the people themselves rising up in anger. Naturally, those who wanted to lead Orlais themselves would take the side of the rebels being welcomed by their people.
"G-raarkhan? There are imperial tanks three clicks north, they passed through the elven ruins, please intercept if possible," the dwarf girl Dagna struggled just like anyone to say his name properly.
But she was the only intelligent person in Thedas, he liked her. As well as coordinating gunners and scavengers for what crashed into the Orlesian plains, she watched out for any additional forces entering the region. She must have caught sight of the imperial crawler tanks in the distance. Gaarkhan gave her a snarl of affirmation, before coordinating his squad to hit the tanks. Even if they were with primitives, it felt good to actually hurt the imperials for a change.
Val Royeaux-Palace
Seconds passed that seemed like minutes to Celene as she read the betrayal of her lover, and Briala too read the hurt that was in Celene's eyes. Neither spoke or said anything, only Panaka's men began to take action, one drawing his pistol. Celene quickly drew hers, shooting over Briala's shoulder and hitting the man in the face. She nodded to her love, who drew her pistol. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon released force waves that knocked some of Panaka's men back. The captain dived for cover as Briala and Celene fired at him. Kargon ignited his pike and brought it down on Alistair, only for Obi-Wan's blue sword to meet his. Qui-Gon raised his hand in synch with Asher, meeting his force lightning with a wave and releasing sparks throughout the room, scorching the paint over the walls. It was a pure chaos that angered Vivienne, her cheeks went red and her hands shook as she gripped her staff and blade.
"ENOUGH!" she yelled.
She threw a ball of fire, only for Alistair to draw his shield and intercept it. He held firm under her fire, setting his feet and looking back at the Jedi. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon split from their battles and together thrust their hands forward. The thrum of the force echoed in the room and the blast threw Vivienne back, knocking off her mask and head dress. She crashed onto a chest of drawers behind her, and just as soon as she had been incapacitated, the battle began again.
Kargon and Qui-Gon slammed their blades together whilst Obi-Wan cut apart the chairs that Asher threw at him. The dark lord twirled his staff around, blocking the shots Briala fired. Celene went back to back with her love, shooting the guards that came into the room. They ducked to avoid the table Asher hurled at them. Qui-Gon parried and countered Kargon's blows, his own height nearly matching the Kossith. Alistair ran as Panaka went out of cover, tackling the man with his shield and hurtling him against the wall. He picked up the royal blaster Panaka had dropped and began shooting at the other guards. More troopers entered the room, only to be knocked back by a concussive grenade.
"We need to find a better battle field," Celene said, throwing another grenade from her belt.
The flash grenade obscured even the vision of the Sith. They blindly lashed out with force lightning, but their targets turned and retreated through the open doors. Obi-Wan pulled the white sabre from Kargon's grip and threw it to Alistair, who fumbled slightly when he caught it.
"We must split the enemy forces and establish chokeholds, Celene, Briala, you're with me," Alistair said.
They rushed through the doorway into the corridor leading to the grand dance hall. Royal guards and Sith troopers were already waiting, one group hesitant whilst the other aimed. Alistair ignited the white sabre and deflected the flurry of shots the Sith troopers fired.
"People of Orlais, we're not your enemies," Alistair said.
He deflected another shot and ducked for cover behind a railing.
Meanwhile Kargon and Asher rushed after the two free lance knights, fire blazing in Asher's hand whilst Kargon ignited the secondary tip of his pike. The crimson blades flashed as he span the pike, dashing towards his opponents with his master's fire alongside him. Qui-Gon snuffed out the flames with a force push and stepped towards Asher with Obi-Wan, both trapping his double sided sabre with theirs. Together they threw their hands forward, striking Kargon's ribs with their palms, enhanced by the force through the ancient teachings of Teras Kasai. Though not experts it was enough to throw him back and injure him. Asher created icicles from his hand, launching them like darts that the two knights slashed through. He increased the size of the chunks, turning them into rocks that forced both of his opponents back. Portions of the wall behind them were blown open by the impact of the projectiles. Some even went through the wall and crushed unsuspecting troopers on the other side.
Momentarily outraged by the Sith lord's disregard for his allies, both knights rushed forward with a surge of force speed. They were in front of Asher within moments, striking the mana barrier he had conjured. Qui-Gon gripped his sword with both hands and thrust it into the barrier. It grinded against the blue wall, the end of the sword glowing red and causing the barrier to waver and melt like plasma against a durasteel door. Shocked (this is impossible he inwardly remarked) but also fascinated by the cutting technique, Asher slammed his staff into the ground. Portions of the floor became hard rocks that knocked the two knights back. Obi-Wan was struck so hard that he crashed through one of the windows. He flipped, catching his hand on a gargoyle, the knight was dangling with the city a body breaking fall beneath him. But Qui-Gon wasn't afraid for his apprentice, he trusted in Obi-Wan's skills.
He raised his sword into a guard, blocking Kargon's sudden strike. The Sith apprentice widened his eyes, sure that his burst of force speed would overwhelm his opponent. He delivered a flurry of slashes with his double bladed pike, all strikes that Qui-Gon blocked. Kargon attempted to hit Qui-Gon in the face with his handle, only for Qui-Gon to lift up his sword, in effect making Kargon split his own weapon in half. As the blades of his light sabre flickered and died out, Kargon was pulled across the room by his master.
"Impressive, most impressive," Asher threw his staff aside and drew a hilt from his belt.
Flaps on the handle slid apart like a cross guard, before Asher ignited the crimson blade and stood with his sword in both hands. Qui-Gon slid his legs apart evenly, holding his sword with both hands in a slightly raised grip. He lowered his sword though when Asher took a step forward, magic flickered through Asher's feet, the creation spell of haste whilst the force flowed through him. Together force speed and haste enabled him to dash forward. Only he diverted at the last moment, barely blocking Qui-Gon's raised sword. He would have run into the emerald blade if he hadn't moved, stopping two feet behind Qui-Gon.
"You're still in many ways an apprentice yourself aren't you, trying to use both the force and the fade together," the knight mused and Asher chuckled.
"To be both a mage and a force user, one has to drawn on both sides, it's the only way really to bridge the gap between modern Sith and true Sith," Asher said.
"True Sith? And are you not true Sith?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Oh perhaps I've said too much, perhaps I must strike you down," Asher said.
"Do so and I will become more powerful than you can imagine," Qui-Gon opened raised his arms slightly, his back still to Asher.
"Difficult then, how to beat you without killing you? Do you perhaps possess some kind of broken force technique?" Asher asked.
"It would still be death, but death itself is not an end," Qui-Gon said.
"I would believe you, the force is a pathway to abilities some might consider…"
"Unnatural?"
"Oh…you've obviously heard that one before, what about the tragedy of Darth…"
Suddenly there was a flash of lightning as Vivienne appeared behind Qui-Gon. She screamed as she brought down her spectral blade, slamming it into Qui-Gon's. He side stepped the thrust of her staff, dodging the icicle she slammed into the wall beside them.
"HOW RUDE!" Asher yelled.
He commanded his staff from across the room, knocking it into Vivienne's neck and suspending her off of the floor. Then he flicked, sending her sprawling back.
"We were in the middle of a philosophical conversation, plus I could have been stalling him for a trap, or I just like an intelligent debate," Asher said.
He walked around Qui-Gon who carefully walked with him, keeping his guard up and sliding through defensive and offensive forms.
"Being a 'Sith' within this empire is much like the game of Orlais, life itself is a game in claiming power and status, that's at least what I learned a long time ago in Orlais. Despite how I speak, I was born on the streets, a lowly mage sent to the tower, destined to be a trickster for the Orlesian court at best until the empire came. But even then my potential was limited, until I found my true master," Asher explained.
"More Sith betrayal," Qui-Gon scoffed.
"Nothing as trivial as that, he and a select few have knowledge of something far worse than what our empire is, it's the very reason Vitiate created the empire in the first place out of hope that he could win the game that started before his birth, the game between the light and the darkness," Asher stated and this time Qui-Gon lowered his stance.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
Deep roads
"Leliana, Leliana, Leliana wake up," Valta called out, holding the young woman's body.
Her eyes had gone white and she was convulsing with foam coming out of the corners of her mouth. It was all Valta could do to keep Leliana from hitting her head on the rocks. The lyrium veins in the walls hummed around them and the ceiling above them shook. Sten pulled his hammer off of his back whilst Sten took out his axe.
"There's something around us," Renn said.
He took out his shield and mace, joining the other two warriors whilst Valta tended to Leliana. The bridge they stood on suddenly split apart, separating them from Valta and Leliana.
"What in the blazes, have I had too much to drink or is the ceiling moving?" Oghren asked.
"You have had too much to drink, but yes, the ceiling is indeed moving," Sten said.
The ceiling shifted, lyrium rocks were inside the walls, but so were layers of circuitry and metal. Walls were formed around the three warriors, trapping them within a cube prison. Blue lines flashed across the walls before things started to come out of the floor, they moved like swarms of flies, flickering before the trios eyes before they formed three bodies. At first they were a metallic blue, then they became like flesh, two short and one tall. Each of the warriors looked at the opponents that formed before them and saw themselves, for Oghren it was a dwarf in Grey Warden armour, for Renn a legionnaire and for Sten.
"Arishok," he whispered.
"Well at least you could have gone far," Oghren muttered.
"Whilst you are just a bitter disappointment," the grey warden Oghren spat.
He drew the gold and grey axe from his back and ran at Oghren. The Arishok-Sten (Aristen?) drew his sword, a gesture Sten returned as he threw his hammer aside. They began slamming their blades together whilst Renn looked over his copy.
"There isn't much different," he muttered.
"Perhaps you would prefer THIS!" the mimic's skin suddenly began to rot, worms crawling out of his nostrils and maggots gushing out of his eye as it exploded.
It suddenly swung its axe at Renn, catching his shield. Renn shifted back and blocked another blow, striking back with his mace only for the mimic to catch the handle with the curve of the axe. The legionnaire cursed as his opponent wrenched his weapon from his hand and threw it across the arena. Renn was knocked back by the mimic's shield bash, the legionnaire slid across the floor, nearly tripping Oghren whom jumped and slammed his axe into the staff of his opponent. His mimic shoved him back and both brought their axes together.
"You go from a drunk, a joke of a husband to a hero's friend, then a warden, an honourable man and a good father and husband, now you're still a drunk joke," the warden mimic slammed its head into Oghren, drawing blood from his mouth.
The mimic grabbed the braid of Oghren's beard and pulled him into another head butt. Quickly regaining his bearings, Oghren rolled to avoid the mimic's axe, striking back with his own and making his opponent stumble from the impact of their weapons. Swords grinded together, releasing sparks across the floor. Despite their sizes, Sten and his mimic moved with almost jedi like speed and twice and much disciplined aggression in their strikes.
No words were spoken between Sten and the Arishok he could have become. He was of the Qunari, his role was to only advance as a soldier, to fight, to protect, to kill for the greater good that was the Qun. This mimic was his test of faith, his test of identity, an attempt to make him regret the way the world was and the path that had been laid before him. But those whom followed the qun had no room for doubt, no room for guilt, their path had already been set.
Valta looked to the cube that had trapped the warriors. She could only watch and protect the comatose form of the agent of the true chant.
Leliana's eyes were pools of white now, and white was what Leliana walked through. Her chantry robes had been replaced with a chainmail and leather tunic, not unlike what she wore in her 'spymaster' life. It lacked the hood though and instead of that strange eye on her chest medallion there was another symbol, the symbol of the rebellion, a red starbird, a symbol of a branch of the Amell family (though it was a symbol many factions and family's adopted, none could trace the origin of the symbol). She somewhat marvelled at the design of her outfit, noting it down for later before she became aware of something that hadn't been with her before. It was a type of Stonehenge, a series of rocks that formed a shelter of sorts. At the centre of the ring were two chairs placed either side of a board. Leliana curiously walked over to the table, it was not a holotable but a traditional one with physical pieces. They however were not the creatures the greater galaxy used but versions of the pieces Leliana was familiar with. Only they took on forms she was also familiar with.
Her two knight pieces were Alistair and Oghren. The bishops were Wynn and Loghain surprisingly. Her rooks were Zevran and Sten. She was the queen and the king, she couldn't make out the face of the king. Then there were the pawns, their faces were unseen, consumed by something within her, she sat and looked at the opposing players white pieces.
Two knights, a bald man with a scruffy beard and a Cathar woman, then came the two rooks in the form of a Twi'lek girl and a wookie, the two bishops were respectively a battle droid of some kind and a T3 astro-mech droid. The queen was a beautiful woman holding a double bladed sabre and the king was an armoured man with a T shaped visor.
The second player rested one hand against the other, his gloved hands stroking the chin of his masked face. His robes shifted just like his pieces always did, between light white, and dark black. The pawns too always changed their shape as well as their colours, when white they were men and women with helmets that exposed their faces and when black they were fully armoured with visors covering their faces. He moved one piece, awaiting the move of his rival player.
Slowly a hand moved a faceless pawn forward, drawing a sharp breath from the masked man.
"Not the move I would have opened with, but a good one I suppose," he moved another pawn.
His rival player moved the same pawn; this one though had a face, a man in robes with short hair, his eyes closed with a hopeful smile on his face. The players hand shook and the masked man let out a hum.
"Someone has to be the first to die after all," he said as he took the pawn.
He moved his pawns and then began moving the other pieces. The knights he used to gradually weaken the pawns, before using his bishop to take a robed pawn with long hair holding a book. Another pawn fell, a girl with her hair tied behind her, and then another, his uncertain and fearful face made worse as the piece broke when the masked man knocked it aside.
"Believe it or not pawns are actually the most important pieces, what can you do if your pawns do not lead your targets to an ambush?" the masked man asked.
His rival player proceeded to take the wookie rook, then the old man knight. He sacrificed another pawn in order to use the Alistair knight to take the battle droid bishop. The pawn he lost was an elf girl, again in robes.
"Su…ra…na!"
The masked man clapped his hands together.
"You remembered a name, I barely remember the names of my pawns, but the other pieces, they are precious to me," he gently laid the Twi'lek girl piece alongside the old man and the Wookie.
Resting his hands on his knees, the masked man looked across at the other player.
The other player who wore only a pair of shorts, had his skin burnt from the sun, hair wild and ragged and eyes red from both sacrifice, and from the tears that began to well in his eyes. His name was Daylen Amell and both his body and mind were somewhere very far away.
Orlais
Flames and electricity whirled around the mages of Thedas like a barrier, providing a shield wall that consumed blaster shots from the imperial forces in the city. Loghain and Gaspard moved behind Irving, the first-enchanter's renewed power enhanced by the force, and his link with those whom had come under his tutelage. He could feel Alistair fighting alongside those whom would have killed him, feel Leliana striving to find a way to turn the tide and bridge the gap between the Sith and her people, and he could even feel somewhere far, far away his student struggling to regain his identity. Irving would let neither of them face their trials alone. He threw his staff, turning it into a spinning saw of fire that blazed a trail across the rooftops, cutting apart or knocking down Sith snipers.
Cullen and his Knight-Troopers ignited their jet packs, traversing to the rooftops and firing at the knocked down snipers. He blocked one shot with his shield before knocking the man who fired at him off of the roof. Below them, Loghain used his great sword like a shield, blocking several rifle blasts whilst the farmers and villagers behind him returned fire with recovered blasters. He picked an officer's blaster off of the ground and shot two troopers before Cauthrien jumped over him, beheading a riot trooper.
"Use haste, all of us together, stack it alongside heroic defences," Orsino said.
He let out the yellow light alongside other Kirkwall and independent mages. The yellow and green auras surrounded Meredith and her men. They began blasting and slashing at the enemies in their way. Irving drank three mana potions, taking a deep breath before he ran out of the cover some of the knight-troopers had offered him. He called his staff back to his hand used haste on himself, rushing forward like lightning, electrocuting several enemies in his path. When he was up on the rooftop he took a moment to centre his balance.
"Snow and rock together, become a hail," he chanted.
Ice rocks slammed into the troopers beneath him. Irving controlled the storm, ensuring it only hit his enemies, giving his allies openings to attack. The hooded man raised his glowing blue hand, enveloping some of the rebels in a healing light. He moved like lightning too, and after drinking a mana potion, he created a storm of his own.
"What are they doing up there?" Gaspard asked, pointing to Irving and the mage.
Loghain narrowed his eyes, seeing the way the wind blew from how the ice rocks had fallen. Irving signalled to Cullen, who was flying with his jetpack. The templar grabbed the First-Enchanter's hand whilst the hooded mage was grabbed by another templar. Irving's perfect storm had created an updraft, enabling the Knight-trooper squadron to fly much higher than they had before. Cullen and his six knights were thrown upwards, towards the castle. They landed on the balconies with Irving, three immediately turned and began sniping down at the enemies below.
"We're going to find and secure empress Celene, the imperial commanders and the Sith lord," Cullen stated.
"Yes captain," his men said.
Irving closed his eyes, 'seeing' and 'feeling' through the force. He felt the anger and desperation of Celene, the regret and love of Briala and Alistair's determination.
"Upper floor, if we move now we'll cut off the reinforcements," Irving walked into the castle and raised his hand to the ceiling.
He created tremors that became cracks through the floor. A whole squad off troops suddenly fell through the ceiling, breaking legs and becoming vulnerable to the chain lightning Irving released. He uncorked another lyrium potion, downing the contents before pointing up, Cullen and his men began jumping up the walls, using their jet packs to traverse to the upper floor. Irving moved like lightning again, reappearing behind Cullen and rubbing his sore neck.
"Old bones, curse the Orlesians and their grand buildings," he said.
Cullen put his sword and shield on his back and began firing at the Sith troopers. He and his men rushed into the open stairwell Alistair's fight had broken out into. They began jumping to the lower stairs, intercepting troopers and engaging in close combat. Alistair's cleaved through several troopers, the barrel of his pistol flashing as he fired a flurry of bolts.
"Soldiers of Orlais, Gaspard is out there fighting to save this city, to free your country from the Sith, just as the rebel alliance works to free our planet from the Sith, this sword is the proof that they can be matched," Alistair stated, holding the blade up high. "We can be free of them!"
Some of the Sith troopers took aim at Alistair, but in a flash of blue they were cut down. Obi-Wan raised his sword over his head and with his other hand brought his index and middle fingers together, holding the pose and making the Sith troopers hesitate. The masked and armoured Orlesian troopers too were hesitant, their radios blazing with the sounds of the battle outside.
"Celene has sold our freedom and our pride to the empire, all so she can live comfortably, and even when her life was threatened, she continued to serve them, continued to seek a way out for herself and not her people, NOT YOU MY PEOPLE!" Gaspard yelled.
"I hate Orlais, I hate Orlesians too," Loghain said.
He stabbed his sword into the ground, throwing a grenade to provide smoke cover. Cauthrien pulled him to cover, but still he spoke, injecting another stimulant into his leg. He attached one of the personal shields he got from a trooper onto his arm, activating it and enveloping his body in a blue field.
"For years my family suffered, I witnessed time and time again Orlesian noblemen abusing their authority, claiming Fereldan men's wives on their first night, beating us down, stealing from us, sometimes our closest and most loved possessions and doing so simply because they could. I hate Orlesians for that, not just their nobility, but anyone whom calls themselves Orlesian with pride," Loghain explained as the stimulants flowed through him.
Much to Cauthrien's shock, Loghain ran out, grabbing his sword and jumping at one of the Sith troopers. He swept his blade through the man's shoulder, throwing his body into two more troopers before he ran and slashed at them. Blaster bolts struck his field, forcing him to run harder and deflect with his sword. The tip of his blade was blown off by a blaster shot, but he was still able to slash the man across the throat.
"Now I know that each of you understand the hatred I feel, because you now understand what it is to be under someone's boot, to be the victim, to have your lands and homes violated by those whom seem to relish in being cruel. I am here to tell you that you shouldn't, you mustn't take it anymore, those whom fight for their homes and their freedom together with their neighbours will prevail over an army of conquerors," Loghain explained.
His sword finally broke on a trooper's head, followed by his field. Two bolts hit him in the back and chest, blowing off the pieces of his armour. Loghain slammed into the ground, crawling back in frustration and glaring at the imperial officer who shot him.
Again in the palace, the Orlesian guards wavered until the windows shattered around them. Glass projectiles were shot into the joints of their armour, others were knocked back by the flurry of shards.
"Traitors," Vivienne declared, her staff glowing as she used an ice spell to freeze an Orlesian guard in front of her.
She shattered the statue she made with her sword and glared at Alistair.
"Such pathetic sentimentality!" she swung her staff, launching a barrage of ice spikes.
He cut a few apart before one hit him in the shoulder. Alistair was thrown to the ground, clutching his wound and snarling in anger.
"Unity, a conquering army, complete and utter foolishness, what chance to do you think our backwater; primitive world has against an empire that embodies power? I will tell you all, there is no chance…" Vivienne sprayed fire at Cullen and his troopers, catching one and his jetpack, blowing one up and knocking the other troopers aside.
Cullen was thrown off of the stairway, just barely grabbing a railing on the floor below. Flames were on his shoulder, prompting him to smack them out with his free arm.
"There is no hope, no future where we can be free, and who wants that anyway, would anyone be happy with a free world? There exists those who must be led, who must have order and routine in their lives, and there are those whom strive, whom lead, that is the game, you all lost, Celene and Briala, you would have won if you cast aside this fantasy you had of loving one another whilst serving your people and you Alistair, don't even get me started on you," Vivienne explained.
She threw Alistair against the wall with a shockwave spell, encasing his arm in ice and trapping it. Flicking away his sabre, she put her staff to his head.
"The man who fancied himself a hero, a king of legend, but no king can rule without sacrificing his people's happiness, there exists no leader whom has the love of his people, a clear conscience or success, by clinging onto your ideals, your people will die," she stated.
"We seem to be doing pretty well out there, we've even intercepted your gunships," Alistair said.
"Still overconfident, still naïve, the forces attacking the city are the pawns, the pieces of import are somewhere far else, even Asher is just a pawn. I composed a strategy to bring together the rebels that took Ferelden from the empire and cast a strong message, obey or your home will be destroyed, bombed from orbit," Vivienne explained.
"And you think that is acceptable?" Celene asked.
"It's the realistic end, why waste time fighting us when they can just bomb us from orbit," Vivienne said.
"So you gave them permission?" Briala asked.
"They don't need permission, they could blow our world up and it wouldn't matter, people would even celebrate it, because that is what the people of the galaxy are, sheep to be led, we must prove our value and that is what I have been doing," Vivienne explained.
"Don't try and pretend that this is for anyone but you," Cullen said, climbing up and grabbing his rifle.
He was about to fire at Vivienne when more imperial troopers came in. Cullen quickly flew away from them, cursing when one blast hit his jet pack. He was going to be sent flying off, when he was suddenly detached from his jet pack and thrown to another balcony.
"Hello there," Obi-Wan said.
They both dived out of the way of a fireball Vivienne threw at them. She then turned her attention back to Alistair.
"The idea of a mage at court was nothing more than a joke before I arrived; I made something of myself and will continue to do so until I have risen as high as I can," Vivienne said.
"Oh Vivienne, you haven't changed at all I see!"
The Imperial-Divine turned her head, looking towards Irving. He held an imperial trooper by the head, having melted the man's helmet. There was a look of regret on his face as he dropped the lifeless and smelly corpse.
"Irving," she seethed.
"Even when you were young, you always sought to please the empire, even more so than you seeking success in the game," Irving said.
"Don't tell me that the chantry apologist now values freedom, you have never been a man who valued such a thing," Vivienne stated and Irving smiled, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.
"I remember a student of mine…"
"Daylen Amell, of course you were going to talk about him, talk about how he valued freedom, how he was so good, well I tire of hearing of Daylen Amell, the inheritor of the Amell branch lines foolish hope and dream," Vivienne said.
She was about to rant more when she saw that Irving still had his eyes closed. Irving closed his eyes and smiled.
"IRVING LOOK OUT!" Cullen yelled.
With his guard down, Vivienne rushed towards Irving, pulling back her sword. She swung forward, her sword going for Irving's neck. There was a sudden 'clang' and Vivienne widened her eyes. Irving had covered part of his neck with rock armour, deflecting her blade and because of the strength she had put into her swing she stumbled backwards. He put her hand to her chest in that moment and a thrumming sound came out of his palm, before Vivienne was sent flying backwards. She cast ice, creating a path to divert her fall as she traversed the stairwell, launching herself at Irving again. This time he met her sword with his staff, parrying multiple slashes. He ducked and thrust his hand forward, pushing Vivienne again. She slid across the floor, throwing a fire ball, which he countered with a cone of ice. Then she followed up with electricity, hoping to conduct the moisture around Irving. Instead he converted the moisture into a mana shield.
"So you still know how to cast spells, even after all this time tranquil," Vivienne said.
"Like riding a speeder bike," Irving said.
"That doesn't make any sense," Vivienne retorted.
She raised her hand, creating a rain of fireballs that slammed into different parts of the palace. Irving pushed his hand against the ice trapping Alistair, it instantly melted whilst the young man felt his nerves and skin being healed too. The mage nodded to Alistair and Irving gave him his light sabre.
"I think that will be quite enough Vivienne," he said.
He clicked his fingers; blue symbols glowed on Vivienne's chest. The glow of magic faded in her hands, and the other rebels came out of hiding.
"Glyphs, but, you never…" the divine widened her eyes in horror.
She realised why he had used his palm to push her back, not just as a show of strength, but to cast a glyph of neutralisation on her chest. Imbedding the glyph within the fabric of her outfit, he had neutralised temporarily her ability to use magic. Irving raised his staff again, magic of energy appeared around Vivienne, closing in around her, a crushing prison followed by a blue glyph of paralysis on the ground beneath her.
"Full confession my dear, I am not just fighting this battle, I'm fighting for the very soul of a boy who I could not love more if he were my own son, that's what your power is worth to me 'divine Victoria'," Irving seethed, glaring at the former first-enchanter.
Vivienne however smiled, despite the spells trapping her. She let out a laugh she thought would sound charming and patronising.
"As I said, pathetic sentimentality, the force is but a tool, a tool I have no need of to win," her grin deepened as the ground began to shake.
The rebels widened their eyes, hearing explosions outside, the sound of projectiles slamming into the ground. Vivienne's smile though faded as the castle began to shake. Irving sighed and shook his head in disapproval.
"Oh Vivienne, you're right, the empire can just bomb us into dust, are you truly so arrogant as to believe that you'd be excluded from that?" Irving asked.
An emerald beam ripped through the centre of the palace. Rubble fell down on top of the imperial and Orlesian guards. Vivienne looked up and screamed as rocks fell down towards her. Then everything went dark as what seemed to be an Earth quake struck the heart of Orlais.
Next Episode 42: Hail to the king
Oh dear, things get tense, Vivienne's machinations come back to bite her.
Next time the closing of the battle in Orlais, and the battle within Daylen's soul.