Proper Negotiations
When you are not gathering allies or making a nuisance of yourself in the streets of the alienage, you are hard at work preparing for the negotiations. It is clear to you that Lady Canis is simply outclassed, so it falls to you to ensure that Ferelden is not swept aside by the weight of Orlais.
Momentarily you pause to rub at your brow. Though you have slept well, tiredness lurks at the edge of your consciousness. Truly, you had wished to put these days behind you.
With a shake of your head you turn back to the documents the Orlesians provided you at the end of the last negotiation. Whatever your feelings on the matter, the work shall not diminish simply because you wish it to.
Studying the demands that Orlais is making, you seriously wonder if they are trying to sabotage the talks. Well, you suppose if they are from Gaspard's faction they probably are, but this is another level entirely.
The return of the crown of Ferelden to House Valmont, Teyrn Loghaine and other prominent figures in the rebellion prosecuted for 'war crimes' whatever those are[1, several border forts to be ceded to the Chevalier orders, the standing down of Ferelden's armies. A ban on the manufacture of weapons and armour. A truly crippling amount of money to be paid as reparations.
This is not a list of negotiation points; it is a surrender demand. None of these are workable, there is no middle ground. Perhaps it is an attempt at anchoring, to make future demands seem much less palatable by comparison, but even then this is too far.
It is clearly calculated to make the Ferelden delegation storm out in a rage or extract every possible concession if they are desperate enough to stay. In short, it is an almost perfect plan to ensure that these negotiations fail or hand Gaspard a victory in the court.
This will require some thought.
Throughout the night and into the next morning you think on what to do. Several servants get a nasty surprise when they enter what they believed to be an empty room to see you deep in thought. You would have apologised to them, but they almost all flee out of the room the moment they see you[2].
Rude.
After a great deal of thought, you have a plan. It is, not strictly speaking, a good plan. It is high risk, and the reward is merely that negotiations will continue as normal, but you think it is the only meaningful plan available.
The first step is to convince Lady Canis to allow you to take over the negotiations entirely.
"You expect me to allow you to take over the negotiations?" Said woman asks incredulously.
"I think we are both of the understanding that we are not being negotiated with in good faith." You reply. "I have a plan, the details of which I cannot share for obvious reasons."
"With the uttermost respect, lord Russandol, your performance thus far does not fill me with confidence." Lady Canis says in a tone that implies very little respect.
"I believe that my plan will gain us a real chance of negotiating for what we came for." You reply, unmoved by her words. "Can you say the same? If you honestly believe that you can find a way to respond to these spurious demands, then I shall allow you to do so. If not, then what have we to lose by attempting my plan?"
For a long time, Lady Canis is silent. The both of you know she is not a skilled enough negotiator to get out of this situation, the only question is if she will admit it. Her jaw works in irritation.
"I could share the plan if you like?" You offer, gesturing vaguely towards your head.
"No!" She exclaims. "No. No, I don't want any… Just, stay out of my head."
Her hands worry at a locket of hers, and she keeps glancing down. After another, even longer silence, she finally nods jerkily.
"Very well." She forces out between gritted teeth. "You have shown, some, competence in dealing with the Empress. I will, against my better judgement, allow this."
"I thank you." You reply. "Please, trust me. I know my actions may appear strange, but it will only work if you back me up."
"Maker preserve us." Lady Canis whispers.
The meeting hall is exactly as gaudy and ostentatious as you remember. The table is decent admittedly, though making it out of a single tree seems… well, wasteful really. It must have been millennia old, a terrible loss to the world.
Still, that is neither here nor there. You have a different bone to pick with the Orlesian delegation.
"I have reviewed your demands." You state pulling out the papers. "After careful consideration I have come up with an answer for you."
You gather the sheets of paper into a pile, grip it in the middle, and in an effort that would probably have been more impressive among elves, tear the stack in half. Then, with a flick of your wrists, you set them on fire, allowing the ash to scatter around the room.
"Are you quite finished wasting my time?" You ask.
"You dare?" Sneers one of the female diplomats. "You come crawling back to us to beg for our protection, and you have the utter nerve to believe you can dictate terms to us?"
"You lost a war so convincingly that you dare not resume it even during the Blight and you have the gall to dictate terms to anyone." You retort. "These terms are madness, and you know that perfectly well."
The assembled group titters and leers at you. "If you are so certain of that, elf, then run on home. Tell the rebels that you couldn't stand a little needling."
You conceal your surprise and glee at that error. "One more thing, I noticed that you asked for a number of nobles to be tried. On what grounds exactly would they be tried?"
"Why, treason against Orlais of course." One of the men giggles. "Raising the flag of rebellion."
You nod. "I thought so, so just to clarify, it is the official position of Orlais that the province of Ferelden is in rebellion?"
The flash of realisation runs across the faces of a couple of the smarter members but the rest are far too caught up in what they believe is their victory. "Of course it is!"
"Very well." You stand up and back towards the door. "I will be certain to inform the king of the resumption of hostilities."
Lady Canis had not spoken, simply staring in mute horror. The moment you are out of the room she whirls to face you.
"What was that!" She shrieks. "You just threw away any chance we had of getting anything out of this at all. And you unilaterally declared war on Orlais!"
"On the contrary." You reply. "As things stood we could not have achieved anything regardless. More importantly, it was not I who declared that war unilaterally."
You return to the lodgings and tell everyone to pack up and prepare to flee, loudly informing them that Orlais has officially declared war on Ferelden.
An hour later a messenger arrives informing you that there was a misunderstanding and you are led to another room with a different set of negotiators.
Finally, with some leverage and the most outrageous demands off the table you can actually begin negotiations.
Pleasantries and apologies are briefly and insincerely exchanged. The nature of how Orlesians govern their society make them rather more sensitive to such minor diplomatic victories such as the one you just won.
There are few attempts to balance the scales, to drive you into some kind of equally deadly insult, but these are either ignored by you or quashed by the other negotiators. Sensibly, at least in your opinion, the 'game' seems to have been suspended for now.
In your judgment, it would have only done more harm to the negotiations than any potential benefit. They may also simply be scared of you, but you find that hard to believe.
Eventually you begin to lay out terms. Naturally, the main one is that Orlais should join the fight against the Blight. At this point, you are not arguing for or against, merely laying out what both parties want.
Orlais quickly replies that they want their supremacy in the region acknowledged. You suspect they placed that down as a deliberate insult. Ferelden, as your limited understanding of the rebellion indicates, disputes this quite fiercely.
Why is something you do not have a complete picture of, but you assume it is something akin to the position of High King. Regardless, you do not rise to the bait, and lay out your own most challenging article, that Orlais should finance Ferelden's armies.
So the pattern continues for a while. Orlais' diplomats lay out everything they want, and you lay out everything Ferelden wants. Well, actually, Lady Canis lays out many of them. For your part, you do not think a guarantee from Orlais is a particularly likely outcome, nor would you trust it if it was given.
But if there is one thing that will not help your cause it is seeming division among Ferelden's negotiators, so you say nothing.
It should not be said that the process of laying out demands was free of arguments. Entire books could be written on the scoffing and objections made, but those are largely posturing designed to test the resolve of each party. Now, with everything on the table, the actual arguing can begin.
"We simply cannot possibly make such a binding guarantee of Ferelden's independence." Begins Comtesse Esmerelda de Breton, the lead negotiator for Orlais. "While, naturally, Orlais recognises the rightful rulers of Ferelden, should another circumstance see a legitimate claim to the throne from Orleisian nobility, we cannot possibly deny them based on… what exactly?"
"Of course, this would have nothing to do with your desire to leave your options open if you decide to invade a weakened Ferelden." You retort, ignoring the question.
"Orlais has no plans to invade Ferelden at this time." Replies Comtesse de Breton.
"Of course, so long as the Empress' faction is in ascendance." You retort.
"Who else could command the legions if not the Empress?" Comtesse de Breton says innocently.
After a few more minutes of mostly fruitless arguing, you allow their rejection to stand. In truth you were only arguing at all to make it seem like a bigger concession than it was. That should give your arguments more persuasive power.
"I am given to understand that Orlais has the most powerful army in all of Thedas." You point out. "I fail to see why there is any disagreement about using it to fight against the Blight."
"Perhaps, but it would not do to leap to any undue conclusions, would it." Comtesse de Breon titters. "Why, until the Grey Wardens announce that there is a Blight, why anything might be happening in Ferelden."
You actually blink in confusion. "They have announced that there is a Blight."
"Not in Orlais." The comtesse argues.
"Yes. They have." You insist. "You can check with Warden Gaspard de Montfort. The entire order is currently acting against the Blight."
The Comtesse's nostrils flare slightly in irritation, but she gives no other sign. "What I meant is that they have yet to invoke the treaty we signed with them."
"So Orlais will not take action until it is compelled to by treaty?" You ask pointedly.
"Of course not, Orlais is nothing if not eager to help its allies, but we do not wish to go where we are not invited." The Comtesse defends.
"Well, here I am, inviting you to assist." You counter.
Again, this is not the end of the arguments but the momentum is clearly in your favour on this particular argument. You also note an aide sneaking out, you suspect to confirm whether or not the Wardens have declared a Blight[3].
For a couple of hours negotiations are consumed with discussions of trade concessions. Ferelden wants a number of military materials at a discount and offers some trade tariffs being lifted. There are negotiations on exactly how much of each and who they would apply to.
Still, you think this is going quite well. Lady Canis even volunteers to return the standards of the Legions captured during the Rebellion as a gesture of good faith. Still, there is a significant stumbling block.
"This, asking us to pay for Ferelden's armies, it is a step too far." Comtesse de Breton argues. "Do you also wish us to strip our northern borders bare for your convenience?"
"It is precisely because we are not asking you to strip your borders that this is reasonable." You point out. "Ferelden must commit itself wholly to the struggle, as it takes place on their land, you need only send what you can, so the excess wealth you save should be used to ensure that Ferelden can remain in the fight for as long as possible."
"No, what you demand is that Orlais not only defend you, but also pay you to defend yourselves." Comtesse de Breton stresses. "You treat us as though you are the victor of some great war, demanding reparations and soldiers to fight your wars."
At this point, Lady Canis speaks. "Come now Lord Russandol, it seems we have no choice but to accept this. It is plainly obvious they cannot afford to keep their legions in the field and also pay a subsidy to Ferelden."
Comtesse de Breton frowns. "No, of course not, Orlais could easily afford to do so. It is simply a matter of how it appears…"
Lady Canis gives her a quick wink. "Of course it is deary. It is in no way that Orlais cannot afford the costs associated with Ferelden's army. I mean, it's not like it has proven itself superior to yours already or anything."
"The Legions of Orlais are invincible." Lady de Breton replies tightly.
"Assuming that there are more than two of them in any one place simultaneously." You support Lady Canis' arguments without hesitation. "Else history indicates otherwise. I assure you Comtesse, I well know the expenses of a professional standing army. Not even Orlais can support two at once. You have but to say so and I shall drop this line of argument entirely."
It cannot be healthy for the people of Orlais to be as good at masking their emotions as they are. Despite the simmering rage you can see in her eyes, the Comtesse's body language remains relaxed and at ease. Lady Canis smirks victoriously, though you abstain.
It is plainly obvious the trap she is caught in. Making this last element a key part of her objections has trapped her. She cannot accept it now that she has accepted most of your other demands, but she also cannot admit that Orlais cannot afford it, and Lady Canis has ensured that is how it will appear regardless of the true reasons.
With a heavy sigh, the Comtesse gives up. "I cannot authorise a treaty of this magnitude. I shall take it to the Empress."
"Of course." Lady Canis agrees easily. "It's late anyway."
You and the Orlesians both file out. Later, the two of you discuss the results.
"That was a very successful first round of negotiations." Lady Canis says.
"I was under the impression that they spoke for the Empress." You state neutrally. "Why would they need to speak to her before accepting anything?"
"Oh, it is a face saving method in Orlais." Lady Canis explains. "When caught with no other option, you 'admit' a weakness that is not actually a weakness and then use that to renegotiate."
"Then we have achieved nothing then?" You ask.
"No, not at all." Lady Canis shakes her head. "We have established a baseline they have to negotiate away from, and more importantly, got it tossed all the way up to the Empress. The next round has a high chance of actually getting a result!"
"If it is so serious it seems strange that they would allow themselves to be caught in so obvious a trap." You observe to Lady Canis. "Surely they would be better off accepting the loss in order to argue for greater concessions, or to simply make it a red line that cannot be crossed."
"Ah but to do so would be to publicly admit weakness. Given that they are currently representing the Empress herself, and the whole debacle earlier, they could not afford to do so." Lady Canis explains.
"Strange, I had thought that the rules of this 'game' were temporarily suspended to allow for more effective negotiation." You reply.
Lady Canis laughs. "And that, Lord Russandol, is why you aren't very good at it."
Even as you glare at her, Lady Canis' laughter comes to a halt. "No. That is unfair, you are a better player than I gave you credit for. I do not think I could have done this without you."
"It seems that neither of us could have made such a strong showing alone." You offer.
"Indeed, now we just need to wait and see what the Empress says." Lady Canis replies.
Servants in the Dark (Bonus)
Eliana crept into one of the rooms the diplomats had been using. The books on Orlesian law that the elf had borrowed needed to be returned. The lights were out and she opened the door with relief.
She stepped into the room and froze. Facing the door were two eyes, reflecting a light that was not there. Staring into them she saw something, trees maybe.
Whatever it was she did not wait around to find out what spirit realm those terrible eyes were trying to show her. She turned around and bolted out of the door, slamming it shut and desperately wishing she could lock it.
For several long minutes she stood, chest heaving, waiting to see what would happen. The eyes did not follow her, though when she pressed her ear up against the door, she could faintly hear breathing. With a nervous swallow she fled back to the servant's quarters to breathlessly warn them of the demon that had taken up residence.
She would not be the only person to see them that night. Several of the more brave or sceptical servants would travel to the same room, each greeted by the same sight. Their combined testimony would see the head servant inviting the Chantry to visit and perform an exorcism.
However, when the Chantry Sister arrived with Templars, the eyes were gone. They scolded the servants for wasting their time, but throughout the month, at odd hours, servants would report the eyes gliding down halls at random hours of the night.
Malicious Compliance
One of the Empress' requests was to make yourself into something of a nuisance. It was an obvious ploy to have you sacrifice yourself for her cause. Admittedly, it is not exactly one you are against, if you never return to Orlais you will consider it a wise choice.
Still, there are a number of ways you could be a nuisance. For instance, you idly consider whether or not you can leverage your own reputation against Gaspard's faction. Ultimately, you decide against it as both unlikely to work and too dangerous to boot.
No, instead you find your thoughts lingering on potentially stirring trouble by teaching the elves in Val Royuex. To say that you have a newfound appreciation for the challenges among the city elves is something of an overstatement, but you still feel the call to spread what you can of the elven culture to those where it seems most taboo.
Perhaps it is that contrarian streak of your family's, or some good old fashioned spite. Regardless of your reasons, you decide that you are going to head to the Alienage and start some elven language classes. Perhaps you will even teach some of the songs and stories of the Dalish.
Val Royeux's alienage is crowded, incredibly so. Despite being around the size of the market district in Denerim, there are houses packed in so tightly that it seems impossible for them to move without bringing down their neighbours. The streets are narrow and poorly cleaned, with animal leavings and human refuse littering the ground.
The smell that results is something else. Human cities always smell bad to you, generally due to poor waste management, but this is like someone took a city's waste and forced it into a single street. It is a veritable wall of smell.
It takes a time for you to adjust to the experience, and in the meantime you watch the elves around you. Interestingly, it is less common to see masks here. The fashion is also much more practical, though whether that is a conscious choice or an economic one is not something you care to speculate about.
Your guards ensure you are given a wide berth, even without them actually doing anything. It is a sad state of affairs, but not one you can practically do much about. It is not as though you are a beacon of approachable commonality yourself.
Still, you intend to set up some kind of lessons for these elves and you will not leave until you have at least tried. So that is exactly what you do.
Initial attempts to actually speak to people quickly prove a challenge. The aforementioned avoidance means that even when you do manage to pin down someone to speak to, they are doing everything in their power to exit the conversation.
You however have never been one to give up lightly[4, so you spend several hours attempting to convince someone to learn some words of elvish. It is only after you are forced to return back to the palace without achieving anything that you reevaluate your options.
The next day you dedicate to making a sign. In large, easily read, letters you write 'Elvish lessons -free'. This is repeated in elvish and with a crude drawing of two elves speaking to one another. Hopefully, you can set this out and people can approach you as something other than the terrifying noble visiting the alienage.
At first you enjoy relatively little success. The sign is set up near an alcove and you make sure to sit down within the alcove, letting your cloak mask your clothes and height. You get a few strange looks for wearing a cloak in the late spring heat, but most do not take you up on your offer.
Eventually a child pokes their head in to see what you are doing. They are not interested in lessons[5, but they are interested in talking. They ask what you are doing, why and the like. You even manage to trick them into learning a few elven words by explaining what the sign says.
After nearly a week of spending almost every day sitting in that alcove with your sign out, you finally get a small group of interested elves. Most of them already know a few words of Elvhen, which they use to test you.
Naturally, you pass those tests with ease.
At this point you have spent enough time running these lessons that you barely need to think about them. You begin with common easily used phrases that are memorable. 'Good morning', 'how are you', that sort of thing. From there you move onto some basic grammar.
If you are fortunate enough to have a dedicated student, you can even work with them to try and tease out things they want to say. One elf wanted to know how to say 'I love you', another wanted to learn an incredibly flowery compliment.
'You are the shining starlight that reflects off silver seas' sounds excellent in elvish in your opinion.
Of course this is not the totality of the lessons. Fluency practice is frustrating as always, being a combination of repetitive conversation and stretching the mind to recall novel words and concepts.
Still, word of your lessons seems to be slowly spreading. While the number of students is not really climbing, there are more people coming to see what you are doing and spectate. A few parents ask if you take children as students, but they are still hesitant to commit to anything.
Slowly, you are being accepted. Everything is going well.
Until the Chevaliers arrive.
Six of them, mostly young men, though one of them is a woman, swagger into the alienage. The elves, including your students, scatter at once. The Chevaliers scoff at your sign and kick it.
"What are you doing here, elf." Sneers one of the men. "Getting ideas above your station?"
At this point your guards step forward and you rise to your full height. Allowing your cloak to fall back and reveal your armour and sword you step forward. Two of the Chevaliers take a half step back and the rest of them place hands upon their sword hilts.
"And who are you to dictate what is and is not my place, chevalier?" You reply. "It is not the business of Orlais what a noble of Ferelden does with their own time."
There is some more nervous shuffling and now three of the Chevaliers are putting a step between themselves and you. Dimly you are aware of the few elves who had not already fled doing so.
"Rousing rebellion and spreading dissent is always Orlesian business." Blusters the leader. "Kind of thing that might make folk think you are a spy."
Armand and Gerald place their hands on their swords and snarl threateningly. Behind your back you motion them to wait, but do not indicate that they need to relax or stand down. The Chevaliers are clearly not considering them meaningful foes, likely due to their own superiority in numbers and heavier armour.
"Is it the business of Orlais to raise rebellion and spread dissent then?" You ask, to throw them off guard. "How interesting."
"That's not what I meant and you know it!" Snaps the leader.
While their bluster continues for a short time, you take the chance to analyse the group before you. They are armed and armoured as for war, save for their helmets. None seem to carry shields, but they all have a side arm, swords or axes. None carry spears.
By their faces they seem to be quite young, without any of the weathering humans tend to acquire on campaign. Gauging their skill is difficult without seeing them wield their weapons, but none seem to carry themselves in a manner that suggests any particular skill.
Then there is their manner of speech. It is hardly the graceful, veiled manner that you have noted among most of the upper Orlesian nobility. They are surprisingly ungainly in their manner of speech, easily thrown off by something as simple as pointing out a minor verbal misstep.
In short, they are ignorant children.
Children who are in need of education. Specifically, one on the risk of provoking dangerous people. Fortunately, you have a useful mechanism to provoke a confrontation at hand.
"Well, if you noble Chevaliers have concerns," You interrupt, ensuring that your tone leaves no doubt that you do not believe what you are saying[6]. "Why not join in?"
"I'm sorry?" Asks one of the chevaliers in clear offence.
"Apology accepted." You reply smugly. "Now, as I was saying, if you are worried about potential spying or rising rebellions then why not sit in on the lessons. You will be able to see that I have no intentions that run contrary to the interests of your great kingdom."
You are in fact aware that Orlais is an empire, but the insult seems to go over the heads of the group.
"Who knows." You continue. "You might even learn something."
Yet, despite that, hands tighten on weapons and… is that guilt? Yes, that was definitely guilt that briefly flashed across the backmost one's face. It is soon replaced by rage, but that was a very interesting reaction none the less.
The leader snarls and steps forward. "What could I possibly learn from a low life, stinking elf."
Perhaps if you cared to you could seize on this moment and turn it to some positive outcome. However, you are thoroughly fed up with the disrespect being thrown your way, with mastering your rage and controlling yourself. You want this fight as much as the humans do.
"Why, even the newest of Eldarin babes knows more than you do," You pause meaningfully. "mortal."
Tone serves where culture leaves a gap, or perhaps humans consider mortal a deadly an insult in this world as yours. Regardless, that is the last straw for the rage filled humans. While you had intended to goad them into some kind of formal insult that you could challenge them for, they seem to be long past the point of words.
The hiss of swords and rasp of wood sees weapons come flying out. Without formal challenge or even a word of warning, the six chevaliers, two guards and you all leap into combat. Armand and Gerald take one each, which leaves you with four.
The secret to fighting in groups or against them is cohesion. If a group operates together than its ability to inflict damage increases multiplicatively not additionally. The shieldwall is the classic example. Each member goes from begin protected by a single shield to three, while in turn being supported from behind by spears and thrown weapons.
Thus, logically, the secret to defeating a group is breaking that cohesion. To this end you typically leverage your height and speed to draw groups out. However, in this case you cannot. If you try to string the group along in a footwork chase, they will eventually turn on your guards.
So, you will have to use a rather messier alternative.
You charge into the thick of the four you face, accepting strikes on your body from the flanks. As usual, your cloak is somehow not in the way and the chainmail manages to hold, though you can already feel bruises forming.
The leader, who is your target, finds her blow parried, and then the two of you are in grappling range before she can react.
With your off hand, you grab her by the top of her cuirass and drag her forward until you are chest to chest. Then, you bring your sword violently into the back of her neck. The spine is severed. The body goes limp.
You toss their leader at the two on your right and turn to engage the remaining individual. The contest is short and violent, but never in doubt. You are easily sixfold the swordsman he is, and only his heavy armour makes it anything resembling a challenge.
However, he holds your attention long enough that the other two manage attacks at your back. You have to violently twist so that an axe bounces of your shoulder, causing the bones to creak worryingly. The stab to your back instead becomes cut along your ribs, causing painful scrapes as mail chafes.
Still you manage to lance the swordswoman through the leg. Your twist and her not meeting the expected resistance dragged her out of position enough to expose the back of her knee. That takes her out of the fight for now.
From there the battle is all but decided. The axeman has a choice between all out assault and defence. To his credit, he chooses offence, hoping to slay you and leave the rest to his comrades. A futile attempt while wielding a wooden handled weapon but a brave one.
His head hits the ground at the same time as that of his axe.
Both your guards are hard pressed, their armour is lighter and the Chevaliers are well trained. Still, their injuries are light and their backs are to you. Two swift overhand strokes cleave two heads.
For a single long moment you stand silent, blood pooling on the stone street. The bodies of the Chevaliers lie haphazardly about you, weapons notched or shattered and armour rent to ribbons from meeting your steel. An eerie silence falls upon the Alienage, broken only by the buzzing of rapidly approaching flies and the groaning of the sole survivor.
The woman whose leg you injured. She clutches her sword to herself and has been trying to drag herself to her feet to no avail. The injury to the back of her knee is more serious than you anticipated.
She does not hear you approach and goes still as your blade tickles her throat.
"Maker, no." She whispers, more to herself than to you.
"Drop the sword." You command coldly.
"The… the chevaliers of Orlais never surrender." She stammers.
"Then you will die on your belly." You reply emotionlessly.
Her eyes raise to yours, seeking something. Mercy probably, or perhaps some sign that you will not do exactly as you say you will. Naturally, she will find none. You learned your lesson about treating captives too kindly the hard way.
All the Noldor did[7].
At length, the already shaken courage of the woman fails, and her sword clatters into the dust.
"Please." She begs.
"Tell me, if our positions were reversed, would you have spared me?" You ask.
There is a flash of that guilt again, and her eyes dart from you to her sword. Before her doubt and desperation can turn to action, you speak again.
"It is fortunate for you, that I am trying to be a better person." Your sword leaves her neck and you flick your blade to clean it.
With a hiss your blade is sheathed, and you turn to Armand. "There was a chantry two streets away. Go get one of the sisters, tell them we have an injured woman and bodies to bury. Gerald, find me some clean cloths."
The human does not stop staring at you as you bind her wound as best you can. To distract yourself from it, you spend some time examining her sword. It has been rather ruined by the fight, one entire side is blunt from running along your chainmail.
Sometime after entrusting her to the care of the Chantry a voice calls out.
"Wow! I mean, the Wolf told me you were a killer but man… that was something else. You know, poetry in motion or something like that." An elf says. "Come on, I think you and I need to have a chat."
[1] Fun fact about a total war against the embodiment of darkness and evil, it does not lend itself towards any concept of 'rules of war'
[2] See the bonus content Servants in the Dark
[3] Orlais being Orlais, the declaration of a Blight is the subject of no less than seven conspiracy theories and at least two actual conspiracies
[4] This is, if anything, an understatement
[5] Nelyafinwë cannot relate
[6] It is not sarcasm because it is not meant as a joke. That is your story and you will defend it unto death should your mother find her way here.
[7] At some point, the Noldor had to have tried taking Orc captives. It can't have gone well.