Chapter 29: The New World Order
Dragon 9:44.
"This is going to be interesting," Dorian observed.
"That it is," Max agreed, chuckling. "Celene and Gaspard won't be happy about this session—they must have dreaded this day—but all of Thedas is pressuring them to face reality so that we can move on to the next threat. They have to let the Dales go, whether they like it or not."
Dorian and Max entered the grounds of Halamshiral Palace—no longer the Winter Palace, no longer merely a specific palace to be used in a specific season, as the former name had declared. No longer was this a mere vacation home of Celene Valmont. It was now the home of Queen Briala of the Dales.
Celene and Gaspard did not want to acknowledge her as such, but they were soon going to be forced to do so. Orlais had lost the war, and its final imperial territory, faster than even the most enthusiastic rebels had hoped for. Even people like Leliana—no, Divine Victoria—who were personally supportive of the cause and very well-informed about just how much the War of the Lions had hurt Orlais' forces had not expected the utter thrashing of the Orlesian military. It was a combination of three forces: the new technology that Ferelden had unveiled on the battlefield, the old technology that Briala's agents used to ferry information back and forth, and—perhaps most importantly—the fact that Orlais' people were worn out and had no interest in bleeding and dying to impose an emperor and empress on people who did not want them.
Indeed, with the Dales' victory, many people were laughing—both privately and openly—at the fact that Celene and Gaspard still called themselves Empress and Emperor. "Empress and Emperor of what, exactly?" people asked mockingly. The pair claimed that their right to the titles centered on the fact that Kordillus Drakon had united the warring Ciriane clans into the Divine Age lands of Orlais—the lands to which Orlais was now reduced, as Josephine had predicted after Max's machinations at the 9:41 ball. But they had definitely been humbled and cut down to size by their defeat in the Dalish Rebellion.
And that was what it was being called now, rather than "Rebellion of the Dales." Language was shifting rapidly. The term "Dalish" was no longer the descriptor of elven clans, who were rapidly discarding it. Instead, under the influence of their new multiracial nationalism, inhabitants of the region of any race were reclaiming it. With Duchess Monette and Comte Evariste Lemarque—Fairbanks—taking the lead, the nobles of the region were also calling themselves "Dalish nobles" again instead of "nobles of the Dales." This change corresponded with the burgeoning linguistic separatism on the part of the elven clans, who were using Elvhen words more and more, and calling themselves "Elvhen clans" rather than "Dalish clans."
Briala's self-proclaimed title, and the various reactions to it, had been the first sign of this change. She had settled the question of rank in the Dales with rather ruthless dispatch, keeping the existing hierarchy of everyone except herself, while declaring herself Queen. The humans of the Dales had accepted it. They had known all along that they were following an elven leader, so it was not they, for the most part, who created trouble over the title. Instead it was the Elvhen clans of the region, who said that "Queen" was a shemlen title. It was in fact a dwarven title, since the name "King's Tongue" referred to an ancient dwarven king, but Briala had pointed out that she was using a title that everyone understood, in recognition of the fact that people of all four races lived in the Dales. It was smart politics for Briala to announce herself as Queen of everyone, Max had thought. It had enabled her to distance herself from the Agents of Fen'Harel extremists.
This group had appeared during the war. Solas himself had been secretive since Corypheus's defeat, but some elves had stolen eluvians from Briala's network in his name. Most people who heard of these agents assumed that the group was an elven racial nationalist group merely using the name of a god, but a tiny few knew better. Max, Dorian, Morrigan, and Leliana knew that Fen'Harel himself was alive and active in the world.
To the dismay of Max and other idealists, the Elvhen clans in the Dales had not supported Briala because she was—as Sera might have put it—not "elfy enough." She had recognized the reality that many people lived in the Dales and it would be wrong to evict them from their homes. No human was indigenous to Thedas, after all. If no one whose ancestors had come to Thedas from elsewhere had any claim to land or right to live there, that logic would lead to genocide against anyone who was not an elf. It was an abhorrent thought. But there were elven extremists who believed it, and they had joined the Agents of Fen'Harel rather than fighting for a homeland that they would have to share with humans and other species. Worse, the group's agenda was nothing less than the complete eviction—or possibly even annihilation—of everyone in Thedas except the elven race. Max didn't know if Solas himself agreed with this, but he unfortunately couldn't rule it out. He had not forgotten Solas's shocking judgment of Merrill's relationship with Carver Hawke simply because the latter was a human. The growing linguistic separatism among the Elvhen clans seemed to herald a very dark turn. The Elvhen ambassador to the General Assembly would not even be attending today, Max had heard.
At least the horrible vision of the Nightmare demon had not come to pass in full. Some parts of it had: Ferelden's troops had appeared at the Battle of Lydes bearing the very weapons that Nightmare had shown Max in the Fade, which they called "arquebuses." This shocking reveal—shocking even to Kirkwall and VMTO, with their rocket arsenal—turned the tide and saved the city for the Dales. Briala had also used eluvians in the war, as the demon had predicted.
And Ferelden openly acknowledged the fact that it had the secret of how to use elven sending-stones. Kirkwall, as the city with the highest mage percentage of its population in all Thedas—including Tevinter—had figured sending-stones out too, a fact for which Max was extremely thankful. Hopefully a means of instant communication would lessen the chance of uncontrolled escalation to world war, as had almost happened in the Waking Sea Crisis.
VMTO had not gotten involved in the war until forced. Gaspard, predictably, was the stupid hothead who forced their hand. He had sent agents to attack Clan Lavellan in Wycome, hoping to undermine Duke Prosper in an act of spite, but this had had the opposite effect. VMTO had rallied around him and the elven clans that resided in the region. The fact that the Agents of Fen'Harel and Elvhen extremists in the Dales had basically cast out Clan Lavellan and Clan Sabrae for their alliances with humans was an additional motive for their friends to support them. In her capacity of Secretary-General of VMTO, Caitlyn Hawke had taken the momentous step of invoking the treaty against Orlais. The Free Marches had sent a battalion to the Battle of Halamshiral, and the Kirkwall section had borne rockets. Small tactical rockets, intended for battlefield use rather than attacking cities, had flown in the territory for the first time, side by side with the blasts of Fereldan arquebuses. Orlais' troops had been helpless against such terrors.
The combination of new and old technology had won the war for the Dales. But the Halamshiral Palace was not a smoldering ruin, nor had anyone launched rockets at Val Royeaux or any other city. In fact, no one had yet managed to duplicate Kirkwall's rockets at all—though rumor had it that Antiva was getting close. Max supposed it made a certain kind of sense that a country in which poison was an art form would be next to get the formula of this explosive.
The Divine had called this convention to formalize the articles and settle the new borders of the Dalish nation. It was also a meeting of the Thedosian General Assembly of Nations. There were rumors of increased Qunari activity, and the General Assembly wanted to wrap up this war and unify Thedas against the looming threat as quickly as possible. The Chantry no longer had the forces to muster an Exalted March as it had done in the Steel Age during the first invasion. The Seekers no longer existed, the mages were free citizens, and the Templars had been greatly reduced in number to better fit their new duties of being an elite guard summoned only to take down dangerous magical criminals. Whatever muster against the Qunari happened this time, the nations of Thedas would have to organize it themselves.
"At least this threat has motivated basically every leader in Thedas to apply pressure to Celene and Gaspard to submit to the treaties acknowledging the Dales as a nation," Dorian said. "Everyone knows that they have lost decisively, and no one wants their stubbornness to drag this out when the Qunari loom."
And the Dread Wolf, Max thought darkly. He exchanged a pointed look with Dorian, not needing to state the words. Both men understood that look.
Celene and Gaspard had used the Agents' existence for propaganda purposes, claiming that the saboteurs and terrorists were in fact allied with Briala. But this propaganda had not availed them. People could see for themselves what the Agents were saying: that Briala "wasn't even a mage" as Keepers were supposed to be, that she was too close to "shemlen ways," that she had once "shared the Empress's bed," and so on. It was perfectly obvious to most of the Orlesian common people that Celene and Gaspard were lying about the Agents of Fen'Harel being allied with the Dales' cause. And while their sabotage and theft of eluvians had sometimes introduced surprises and problems for the Dales' army, the new weaponry that their ally Ferelden had brought had countered the loss of some of this old technology.
As his thoughts arrived at this point, Max decided to speak again. "I wonder if a part of the reason why the Qunari are taking interest in us again is the fact that we've beaten them in terms of weaponry. Kirkwall's rockets, but also this new Fereldan weapon. The 'arquebus.'"
Dorian considered. "It is probably a factor, but I suspect they would have acted anyway. They only offered an alliance with the Inquisition late in the game, and they must have been watching our disarray during that time and hoping that it would provide an opportunity for them if Corypheus did fail. At least we can defend ourselves better against them now."
"That's true," Max agreed. They linked arms—or rather, Dorian took Max's stub—and entered the palace grounds, where the dignitaries mingled.
The lords of Thedas themselves would not, of course, attend. Max would have loved to have seen the looks on Celene and Gaspard's faces, sour as they must be, but they would not be present. Celene's one-year-old heir, Etienne, was also at home with his supposed parents. Max had been present at the infant's ritual naming into the Chantry but had not seen the boy since then. It was hard to tell with infants unless a baby exhibited physical traits that were impossible to have come from the mother or purported father, but he really had no idea if the child was Gaspard's son or not. Celene's loathing of her husband and taste for men and women half her age were legendary now. For some reason, people were referring to her as a different sort of big cat than a lioness now. Calling her a "cougar" made as much sense to Max as saying that Gaspard had "antlers" for being cuckolded, which was to say, none at all. But Max took Etienne's possible illegitimacy in stride and washed his hands of it. As he had said himself once, any child of Celene's was still related to Gaspard and still a Valmont, since the two were cousins.
If Etienne is not Gaspard's child, it probably isn't the first time that's happened in a royal family, and I doubt it will be the last, Max thought cynically. He considered that fact—that some princes and princesses over the years had likely been unacknowledged bastards of a lover of their mother—as a strike against monarchy in general. The idea was that "royal bloodlines" were paramount—some even said ordained by the Maker—but if kings, queens, emperors, and empresses with secret and unacknowledged fathers had sat on thrones, that fact undermined the entire system.
But monarchic and aristocratic titles would continue for some time, it seemed. No one wanted to give them up. Max and his friends just hoped to use this convention to put forth a new set of ideas, including the idea that no leader should have absolute power.
It wasn't completely a new idea, he supposed. Ferelden had nominally had this belief for ages, though that was often principle rather than practice. The Landsmeet did not often want to check the monarch, desiring instead to curry favor, and Alistair and Anora's establishment of their daughter as the Princess of Jader had essentially taken away any possibility that their successor could be anyone else. In Fereldan history, occasionally someone had challenged the presumptive heir. That would be much harder with the heir now being raised as Crown Prince or Princess and the ruler of a very rich city. The Crown of Ferelden was consolidating power as the nation itself became strong.
But there was hope elsewhere in Thedas. The Constitution of Wycome had made separation of powers official. Max and his allies hoped to use that as a model for Thedas, among the other business that would be brought up. The Dalish and Orlesian ambassadors would negotiate the surrender agreement—not that Orlais had the right or capacity to make any demands—and the ambassadors to the General Assembly would meet separately. These included Arl Teagan Guerrin to represent Ferelden, Darrian Tabris for the Grey Wardens, Cyril de Montfort for Wycome, Anders for the Free Mages, Varric for Kirkwall, Aveline Hendyr for VMTO, and the Marquise Mantillon for Orlais, among many others.
Max did not want to see the Dowager before he had to. He very much doubted that he was among her favorite people at the moment, since he had been the one to insist on Briala's elevation in the first place. She was not an ally of his newfound political goals, either. He had no reason to speak with her. But there was someone else he wanted to see...
"There he is," Dorian pointed out, beating Max to it. He gestured at a blond figure clad in a dark green coat with a feather mantle.
Max waved with his one hand as Anders, the Free Mages' delegate, approached. "Anders!" he exclaimed. "Good to see you."
Anders managed a smile, though he seemed weary. Max noticed that hints of silver now lined the sides of his hair. "Likewise. How is life treating you?"
Max shrugged. "Better than it's treating a lot of people, I expect." He instinctively let his cloak fall over his left elbow. "Since I lost my arm, I've had to learn how to cast magic one-handed. It's been an interesting challenge."
"You know, your entire body can conduct magic," Dorian pointed out. "If you wanted to cast magic with your c—"
Max flushed hotly as Anders burst into laughter. "That is an image I did not need," the latter said, "but—you're right."
Max just shook his head. "I don't really want to become known as the mage who pisses magic, thanks. Would you, Dorian?"
"It would be distinguishing... but, no, I cannot say I would."
"So," Max said repressively, "I have had to learn a new fighting style. I can't give up my staff—it's too useful—and, yes Dorian, I have realized that I can still cast magic through the stub of my left elbow. But it's harder to control."
Anders nodded. "The nerves in the fingers are among the most sensitive in the whole body. We are accustomed to using our hands for that reason, even if—as is the case for mages—we don't actually have to. It's easiest, most natural for us, and it offers the most control."
"Well, I've had to get used to not having that level of control. It's actually been good for me. I think I'm more precise with my right hand and my staff now."
"Do you still have to fight much? I would've thought that would be over."
"I don't, but I don't want to lose the skill. You never know." Max glanced at Dorian. "And of course, as you know, Dorian and I have been involving ourselves in politics as well. Just without throwing the weight of the Inquisition behind me. It's been rather nice."
"That reminds me," Anders said. He rummaged in a pack, withdrawing a scroll, which he passed to Max. "I've made some changes since the last draft. I don't think you'll object to them. As you can see, there are quite a lot of concurrences. We just need yours."
Max popped the seal and unrolled the scroll. It was heavy parchment, the calligraphy elegant but clear.
.
A Declaration of the Natural Rights of All Persons in Thedas
Whereas, the power of Reason is a birthright of all sapient beings as a gift of our divine Maker, the Power of many names.
With the use of Reason, we determine that every member of the Human, Elven, Dwarven, and Kossith races of Thedas is a person, and that all persons are endowed by the divine Power with certain rights. We hold that these natural rights include the following:
The right to life;
The right to integrity of the mind, including thought and emotion, and its protection from deliberate physical or magical compromise;
The right to one's bodily senses, limbs, and digits, and protection from punishments or interrogation methods that keep one alive while permanently diminishing any of these;
The right to freedom from enslavement;
The right to freedom of movement in the absence of conviction of a crime or the determination that a specific person poses a risk that cannot be controlled save by confinement;
The right to freedom of thought, belief, inquiry, and discussion;
The right to a fair trial when accused of a crime;
The right to make one's own choices regarding sexuality and marriage;
The right to make one's own choices concerning reproduction;
The right to nurture, shelter, and raise a child of one's body;
The right to raise one's child or children in accordance with one's beliefs, provided that this does not deny them their own natural rights;
The right to food, water, clothing, and shelter from the elements;
The right to pursue healing and compassionate care when necessary;
The right to live under a reasonable expectation of safety from violence;
The right to self-defense when under immediate and unjust threat;
The right to learn how to read and write in the common speech;
The right of a mage to magical education and training that lets one retain active ties to family, friends, and home;
The right to attempt a trade or profession of one's choice;
The right to fair and equal compensation for work;
The right to fair and equal compensation for property;
The right to equal treatment under the law, irrespective of race or magic status.
.
Max whistled. He and Anders had been the primary writers, but Anders had added some of these natural rights since Max had last seen the declaration. The line about "thought, belief, inquiry, and discussion" had not been there, nor had Anders yet put down the last four lines. By including elves, dwarves, and the qunari race—though they had agreed it was best to use their original name to avoid all associations with a philosophy utterly at odds with most of these rights—this declaration was groundbreaking enough. It would likely inflame passions in many quarters, above and below ground. But with Anders' additions, this was a shockingly radical document. Max liked it.
He scanned the rest of it, his gaze finally settling on the signature portion. It was like a "who's who" of the Dragon Age. There was a blank line at the top of this list, but he knew at once whom that was for. Anders just hadn't had the chance to show the document to Divine Victoria yet. She would be present at this convention, and Max had no doubt that she would sign this.
.
With our signatures, we the undersigned affirm this Declaration this day in the forty-fourth year of the Dragon Age.
Lord Consort Anders Hawke of Kirkwall, Enchanter-General of the Free Mages of Thedas
Viscountess Caitlyn Hawke of Kirkwall, Secretary-General of the Vimmark-Minanter Treaty Organization
Duke Prosper de Montfort of Wycome
Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven
Queen Briala of the Dales
King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden
Queen Anora Mac Tir Theirin of Ferelden
Elissa Cousland, Warden-Commander of the Grey in Ferelden, Arlessa of Amaranthine, Hero of the Fifth Blight
Lord Brycen of Hasmal
.
Dorian was reading the scroll over Max's shoulder. "I didn't know Duke Prosper supported some of these."
"This is part of staking his claim to be a leader against the Qunari," Max explained. "The Qun is against... a lot of these rights. Not all, but most."
"And I notice that neither the Emperor nor Empress has signed."
"They had the option. They still do." Anders shrugged. "If they are so frightened of the new world that they end up making Orlais a pariah state for a time, that will just be another motive for the people of Orlais to make changes."
Max affixed his signature clearly: Enchanter Maximilian Trevelyan, Inquisitor of the Second Inquisition. He turned to Dorian, pen in hand. "You see what it says about slavery."
"I changed my view on that years ago, amatus."
"But are you prepared to put it in writing on this very public document? There are other rights listed that the Tevinter establishment won't care for, and this can't be concealed from them."
"Concealing it isn't the point," Anders said. "Rather the opposite, in fact. As is raising the hackles of quite a lot of 'establishments.'"
Dorian nodded. "If no one has the courage to put their neck on the line, nothing ever changes." He accepted the pen from Max and scrawled his name: Magister Dorian Pavus of the Tevinter Imperium, Co-Chair of the Lucerni.
Anders beamed, rolled up the document, and replaced it in its sheath. "I'm going to look for Leliana—or, excuse me, Divine Victoria."
"I expect she's in the Palace," Max said.
Anders nodded and headed in that direction.
Dorian turned to Max. "Shall we take a stroll before, uh, festivities begin?"
Max laughed. "Festivities indeed. But yes. Let's do that."
In the course of their stroll, they bumped into several people from the Inquisition days and made small talk. Varric and Cassandra were together, the latter making wedding plans—it seemed she was surprisingly romantic—while the former merely rolled his eyes and went along with whatever she suggested. Vivienne wanted them to enjoy an Orlesian-style spa, which was a very strange experience for Max, but was familiar enough to Dorian—albeit with some changes from Tevinter spas. And last was Leliana, garbed in her holy vestments, gazing at the Halamshiral Palace with a darkened expression on her face.
"May I walk with you?" she asked the two men.
Max smiled. "What other Divine would ask? Of course."
She managed a weak smile of her own as she joined them. "Do you think I am 'the Divine' to Elissa? You of all people know that famous and important personages have two personas. When we are alone, I am just your friend."
That was true enough, Max thought. He was glad that Leliana and Elissa Cousland had indeed reconciled after her election to the holy seat. In fact, her rule had begun on a very radical note. She had taken Elissa Cousland to the vault in the Grand Cathedral and married her before the Sacred Ashes, reasoning that only the Prophet herself would have had the power to marry a Divine. She had not attempted to keep this hidden, but had changed official doctrine too. Now priests could be of any race and they could be married. It would not be long before she opened the priesthood to men, Max had heard. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, even being a man. The Imperial Chantry was making no such reform to allow women priests, and in many areas of Thedas, women had fewer opportunities than men. The Orlesian Chantry had long been one exception. But, he supposed, someone had to take the bold first step.
Leliana gazed at the Palace. "The first time I came here, I was eighteen, a young bardic apprentice. Celene had just become Empress. This was a very grand mission for Marjolaine, my bardmaster, and I was dazzled. Such rich hangings, splendid marble columns, more golden lions than I could count. Other than the fact that the golden lions have been replaced with halla, it is all still here... but I no longer see that same place."
"Well, I suppose Queen Briala must have made many changes," Max said.
Leliana shook her head. "I do not mean that. What I see now are hands rubbed raw to make the statues gleam, tears shed in the night over silk embroidery. Others overlook them and forget their pain, but I am Divine, and I cannot be blind."
Max and Dorian exchanged looks. "Do you think Briala treats her staff that way?" the latter asked.
"She is a Queen. I am sure she treats them better than Celene—indeed, merely keeping servants alive would meet that criterion—but you saw as well as I did that Briala sent her agents into grave danger at the 9:41 ball because it served her needs. Rulers treat their subjects as pawns. But how could they do otherwise? The ugly truth of this world is that they are more important. But in the Maker's eyes, this is not so. To Him, all are equal. All are His children. In my position, I must always remember how the Maker sees us. Everyone should, of course, but me especially." She paused. "There are times when I think Divine Justinia forgot that. I must try not to. Even if I must play games of my own, I must never forget that the pieces are alive, that the Maker wrought them, each and every one, and loves them all."
This seemed like a suitable opening. "Anders is looking for you. He has the document that we talked about. I think you'll like it," Max said.
She smiled at last. "Good. It will mean a great deal for me to sign it." She paused. "There are several items on the agenda: the surrender agreement, this Declaration of Rights, the Qunari threat... and there is something else I have heard. The Inquisition's time is rapidly coming to an end. Most of our armies have already been dismissed."
Max nodded. "We don't really need to exist any longer, unless you want to re-charter us to fight... you know who."
"As Divine, you could do that," Dorian added.
Leliana took a deep breath. "Solas compromised the Inquisition. I have had people look into it, and a number of the Agents of Fen'Harel served first with the Inquisition. Our willingness to employ anyone from any race was a noble thing, and I would not do it differently, but he did exploit it."
"On the other hand, think of all the elves who aren't Agents of Fen'Harel who worked for us and achieved a status that would be hard to gain otherwise," Max pointed out.
"True, which is why I said that I would not have made a different decision. But to respond to your suggestion, I do not think we need to be the focus of opposition to him. We were too heavily compromised. And Solas himself was in our inner circle. He was your friend... and mine. He knows all our secrets."
Max nodded. "So when the proposal comes up to disband the Inquisition, I should agree to it?"
"You can do as you like, but I think it would be for the best, yes." She stopped and turned to them. "I will seek out Anders and sign the document. Better to present it to the General Assembly as an accomplished fact, if it is as radical as I have been led to believe."
"It is," Max assured her with a smirk.
She returned the smirk as Max and Dorian continued on their walk.
The next day.
The General Assembly of Nations had no fixed seat. Instead it had agreed to rotate its annual gathering, not wanting to bestow preference on any one site or nation. The first meeting, in late 9:42, had occurred in Skyhold itself, in observance of its origins with the Inquisition and the victory over Corypheus. The second one had taken place in Kirkwall, which had not yet entered the Dalish Rebellion and was therefore a neutral site. This one was focused on the new order in the Dales and Orlais, so it had to occur here. No one knew where the next would be held.
While the Inquisition still existed, Max would represent it in the Assembly. He held his breath as the body was called to order. The last time that a great international meeting had been called to deal with the aftermath of a war, Corypheus had interrupted it by blowing the sky apart. Would Fen'Harel do something to disturb this one? Would Max have to watch as his successor was appointed by happenstance? Or would there be no successor because Fen'Harel would do a better job than Corypheus of... whatever he was trying to do?
But nothing happened—at least immediately.
The first order of business was to officially seat the representative of the Dales, and that required a formal acknowledgment of Orlais' surrender. Marquise Mantillon was sour at having to present this document, which contained the signatures of Celene and Gaspard, but it was done, and the Dalish delegate, an Alienage elf, was given a seat in the General Assembly.
The next matter was the Qunari threat. Leliana got up and spoke of it, giving others time to discuss their own experiences.
Cyril de Montfort had plenty to say, as his father was one of the most anti-Qunari leaders in Thedas, and he—unlike most others—had a great deal of experience fighting them.
"My father, Duke Prosper of Wycome, has found additional Qunari spies in our city," Cyril declared. "Under questioning, they have admitted that there is interest in the highest ranks of invading Thedas again!"
"Under questioning," repeated the Marquise Mantillon. "What sort of questioning might that be? I was under the impression that your Marcher treaty disapproved of torture! Or has the Grand Cleric of Kirkwall stuck her fingers into it now? We know that she has no objections to cruelty."
Cyril sneered back. "This, from you. We all know that the 'torture capital' of southern Thedas is none other than Val Royeaux!"
"We are not hypocrites about it," the Marquise said.
Arl Teagan Guerrin cut in. "So this is the discussion we are to have? Lady Mantillon, it is perfectly clear that you are spitefully baiting the Wycome delegate because you are still sore about losing the Dales. What I care about is the Qunari threat! Can we discuss that?"
"Indeed," Max called out. "Lord Cyril, can you vouch for the accuracy of the information that you have shared? Information obtained under torture may or may not be accurate, you know."
"My father did not torture them. It is banned in Wycome's Constitution," Cyril said, glaring at Lady Mantillon. "I will definitely vouch for the accuracy of their claims—at least, to the extent that they believed them to be true."
Arl Teagan spoke up again. "Several of Ferelden's leaders know the current Arishok. He was known to them from the Blight period when he was lower in rank and went by the appellation of 'Sten.' We fear he obtained a lot of useful information about Ferelden in that time. King Alistair, Warden-Commander Cousland, and Warden-Captain Loghain have confirmed that he heavily hinted that his people were still interested in conquest, and that they did not consider the Llomerryn Accords binding."
This piece of information set the chamber into a frenzy. Josephine called it to order sternly, but the news that Cyril de Montfort and Teagan Guerrin had provided had frightened everyone. Even Lady Mantillon did not want to go against the continent-wide desire to oppose the Qunari as one.
How that unity might occur—the details of who had to compromise on what—was an entirely different matter. But Max had foreseen this. He hoped to present the Declaration of Natural Rights as the unifying agreement. It was strongly in opposition to so much of the Qun, for one thing. Getting so many prestigious signatures on it would help in presenting it as a fait accompli, and having a document ready at all would mean that they had an advantage in a chaotic, fearful atmosphere such as this. Anders stepped up, Max and Dorian by his side.
"On behalf of all who have worked with me to draft this document," Anders began, "especially Inquisitor Trevelyan, who aided me with the phrasing and ideas of a number of sections, I offer up this Declaration of Natural Rights as the unifying creed of Thedas as we come together to stand against the Qun."
As he read down the list of declared rights, Max was not surprised at all when some of the delegates began objecting. Lady Mantillon was not the only one. Maevaris Tilani didn't openly speak against any of them, but she did caution that Tevinter's Senate was not ready to abolish slavery, and that the magisters might reject an alliance rather than agree to these terms. Tevinter, she had pointed out, had been fighting the Qunari alone ever since the Llomerryn Accords, so the country had a certain degree of pride and the belief that they didn't need the rest of Thedas—"even though the negative progression of our solo war proves that we certainly do," she had conceded. But Anders had not budged, and neither had Max—or Dorian.
The dwarven delegate from Orzammar was furious at some of the statements in the Declaration. He was already angry at having to come to the surface for the meeting—the Assembly had changed its rules about requiring meetings to be held underground in Deep Roads-accessible places, and the King of Orzammar had had to give the delegate a dispensation from losing caste by going to the surface. Max found this utterly ridiculous; the dwarves honored no gods, yet they granted godlike powers to a king? If a king could—by decree—remit the "Stone's punishment" of loss of caste, such a thing obviously was not real in the first place. Max had heard from Varric about dwarves who lost their "Stone sense" on the surface, but this seemed to him to be little more than forgetting how to navigate in an environment with which they gradually lost familiarity. He wasn't sure he could find his way around the streets of Ostwick anymore. The brain cast aside information that it wasn't using regularly. This seemed to him to be all that there was to "Stone sense," just memory.
Anders had just reached the list of signatures on the document when an elven Inquisition member approached Max discreetly, tapping him on the shoulder.
"We have a problem," she said to him. "Something has come up. It is a very pressing matter, or I would not dream of this."
Max glanced abruptly in Leliana's direction. She was huddled with Josephine and Iron Bull, and she was looking very concerned. She glanced out at him, stark fear on her face, and rose from her seat, motioning to him and Dorian to follow. Anders trailed off speaking.
The delegates began murmuring. Max overheard someone, possibly the Lady Mantillon, mutter that this was "highly irregular," but there was nothing to be done. He, Dorian, and the other Inquisition people left the chamber as Josephine called for a recess before a vote on Anders' motion to adopt the Declaration of Natural Rights. Max just hoped that this delay would not give the opposition time to marshal arguments and gather supporters.
Outside the Palace.
"A Qunari warrior in full armor," Leliana said, gazing upon the dead body. "How did he get onto the grounds? Queen Briala has been far more interested in security than Celene ever was. She had to have been, to have led soldiers."
"Through an eluvian?" Max hazarded a guess. "We know that the Agents of Fen'Harel stole some of them away from her. Who knows what became of them? Or there could be some that were never in her control at all..."
Leliana's expression darkened. "I fear the same. But this is very dire. This is no spy."
"That's true," Iron Bull said. "The Ben-Hassrath don't wear uniforms. Kind of defeats the purpose of being spies."
"This is a warrior," Leliana said, "a member of the Antaam. The Qunari military. Most of his wounds come from a fight against someone using magic, but at least a few are from a blade. He was badly hurt, separated from his allies, and made it here before he died. But how?" she mused. "Even if the Qunari have access to an eluvian, how can they have learned how to use it? One does not have to be an elf... Morrigan is no elf, nor is her son... but she had extensively studied Elvhen lore."
"Could the Qunari be in an alliance with the Agents of Fen'Harel?" Cullen suggested.
"Nothing is impossible, but I highly doubt that," Leliana said. "I do wonder... the Assembly will reconvene later... but the body will not be safe until we get to the bottom of this. I would not risk a repeat of the Divine Conclave of 9:41. Not on my watch. Too much is at stake." She glanced apologetically at Max. "Inquisitor—Max—I am sorry to ask this of you, what with your hand—"
"I'm still young and capable," Max said. "And I've been training. I knew I didn't want to lose that skill."
Leliana nodded. "It may come in handy now. I am so sorry."
"Well, I stand with him," Dorian said at once. "He won't be alone."
There most certainly was an eluvian—probably one that Briala had considered her own, since it was located in her palace—but the blood trail leading from the Qunari soldier's body to the mirror did not lie. Either he had emerged, wounded, from the Crossroads, or someone had dragged him out.
Accompanied by Dorian, Iron Bull, Varric, and Cassandra, Max soon found himself on a chase through this part of the eluvian network. The trail of blood had quickly led to another one, which he was able to use. Had the Qunari unlocked these mirrors for anyone? There was certainly no password required to use them...
Quickly they found another dead Qunari soldier, this one dressed in slightly different armor. Iron Bull recognized it. "This is a Karashok, probably from the same squad," he identified.
"They are all dressed for war," Dorian said darkly, his tone hard.
"This is an attempt at an invasion," Cassandra said. "Quite possibly an attack on all the delegates at the General Assembly."
Varric had to agree. "It reminds me of Kirkwall. Slowly infiltrating the city. Soldiers, Antaam, armored and armed for war, in plain sight. 'They couldn't possibly mean to attack, could they?' people would say. 'It would be too obvious.' The obviousness of it was their shield." He scowled. "You all know my thoughts about the Grand Cleric. But I can't fault her for her approach to the Qunari. She saw the threat immediately. Dumar believed he could appease them—indeed, he was afraid of them."
"Well, we won't be," Max said stoutly. "Something went wrong for them, prevented them from making their attack—whoever they have been fighting—and we should seize the opportunity."
They continued their trek through the eluvian network. The surroundings—or stops—rapidly became very unfamiliar. It was perfectly clear to Max that they were not in the Dales anymore. Whoever had been fighting the Qunari had been using magic against them, as well. Max found himself thinking of two specific people: Solas and Corypheus. He had trapped Corypheus in the Fade, but he hadn't killed him. Could he be alive still somewhere? But why would he spend his time fighting Qunari instead of trying to get back out, if so?
When they reached a location with a recently damaged tower that appeared to be elven, Max observed a spirit guarding an eluvian.
"The elves bound this spirit here," Dorian remarked. "It feels... old."
"Another remnant of ancient Elvhenan, then," Max said.
"Nuvenas mana helanin, dirth bellasa ma."
Max blinked. He wished that they had someone in the party who understood this language, but he did not require a translation for the spirit's intent. They were not welcome here. To it, they were trespassers.
He never liked having to kill something that was just doing its duty, but he was left with no choice as the spirit and its companions attacked. When the fight was over, he found himself facing a wall with a mural of ancient design. This was a dead end. Max sighed and turned to his own companions.
"Now what?" he asked.
"There has to be something behind it," Dorian said. "The spirit was put here to guard something, and I don't think that mosaic is it."
"What are we supposed to do, then? Does anyone know how to get past that without destroying it?"
Varric raised an eyebrow. "You destroy the spirit but balk at destroying art?"
"I'd really rather not have destroyed anything," Max replied. "Dorian? Do you know any way to get through that?"
Dorian shook his head. "I suspect your mark would have worked, since an ancient elven orb created it, but... no use crying over spilt milk."
Max sighed. "I would be dead if Solas hadn't taken that thing off, but I do wonder now... he must have known that it would be a key to these places..."
"I suppose I could try veilfire," Dorian mused. "Stand back."
"If it doesn't work, I have some incendiary blasting bolts," Varric said.
Max held his breath, but to his relief, Dorian's spell let them through. The mosaic disappeared, revealing a tunnel to them.
"Let's go," Max said, leading the way.
They continued their trek, passing through another eluvian when they reached it. This one led to a room with another mural in it. Max began studying what this art actually depicted. A realization hit him.
"These are pictures from the ancient elven civilization," he said. "This is Fen'Harel, I think... and these must be slaves." He recalled something else. "There were slaves at the Temple of Mythal two years ago, the Sentinels." He was not sure if he could tell Solas's identity to the companions who did not yet know, so he did not try. He did not trust this place and did not want to trigger something. The fact that so many Qunari were turning up dead in horrible ways was not soothing, either. It meant there were plenty of enemies about.
But after some additional exploring and more observation of art—and deductions of what it must have meant for the history of Fen'Harel, who it seemed had tried to help the elven slaves rise up against their gods—they finally encountered living Qunari.
"Vashedan!" one of the Qunari called out. "The Inquisition doesn't leave alive!"
Max was exhausted after the battle. It had been a difficult one, as they had found themselves surrounded by Qunari. And the question remained as to why they had attacked.
"Why did those Qunari attack the Inquisition on sight?" he asked his friends. "Are they still angry about the Waking Sea affair two years ago?"
"I doubt it is that," Cassandra said. "The Qunari delegates did not part on favorable terms, but they did not threaten to retaliate. For these to have attacked us, they must have been given orders."
"That's true," Bull said. "Their commander ordered them to strike us."
"But why?" Max asked—though no one could provide an answer.