Bioware owns Dragon Age

Author's Note: There has been much discussion regarding the geography of Thedas and, in particular, the size and scale of Ferelden. Please note that I have adapted the interpretation which equates Thedas with being roughly the size of Europe. The game itself is not always consistent with distances and time travelled.

In summary this means Redcliffe to Denerim is roughly the same distance as Manchester to London (300km) and would thus take a week's march assuming the army utilised the Imperial Highway, regenerated from circle healing and averaged 40km a day (the Roman Legion averaged 30km in moderate conditions).

Chapter 5: Before the Battle

Queen Anora nervously balanced on her toes. She could see the smoke and flames in the distance. Denerim was burning.

Despite her trim size, she cut an imposing figure garbed as she was in dragon breastplate. Her late father had ordered it made especially for her. Any daughter of his would not only have to look the part, but be the part.

Although she had learnt the basics of combat she knew she was no warrior. Her true weapon, such as it were, was her mind. Like any good combatant she honed her weapon and constantly sharpened it in preparation for its use.

She had done all she could. The success of their enterprise now relied entirely on the soldiers in the army and the men that lead them. Anora's part, she was sorry to say, was ancillary in comparison.

There was admirable quality in knowing when one had reached their limits. She had long known that part of being a good ruler was knowing when to call upon others whose talents were more appropriate to a particular problem. A good monarch knew when to exercise power, and when not to.

In this case she knew the gathered host was due to the efforts of her betrothed, Duran Aeducan. Her knowledge of history, considerable as it was, had long informed her of the particular talents of the Aeducan family. They were considered the shield of Orzammar by their people. The defenders of the last great city of the dwarves. It was in that context that she shouldn't have been surprised what he had achieved.

Of course she knew that lineage could only take you so far. Yes it was important, but there were countless examples of capable and noble lords fathering worthless sons. Talent was the ultimate deciding factor in such things. Indeed her own father, the son of a simple farmer, had risen to the grand heights of a Teyrn when King Maric had sought to reward and recognise his obvious talent.

It was in this context that Anora credited her betrothed with having united all the gathered armies under one banner. Such an extraordinary accomplishment was no small feat. It would have been difficult enough for the most skilled of men. She was certain it would have been impossible for an elf.

But perhaps it was also because he was dwarven that his ability to build a coalition was so pronounced. Anora thought on this further. Truly it must be so. Even though he was a Warden, which would count for a lot, perhaps it was his dwarven ancestry that sealed the deal. Wherever they went the dwarves were held in respect, or at worse ambivalence. Ferelden had always considered them to be stout and honorable folk if only a little strange. The chantry, no doubt, did not like their beliefs, but their inability to wield magic would count for a lot when gathering such a large army. As for the dalish... Well she didn't know nearly enough about them to understand. But she was sure they could hardly hate a dwarf more than they did a human.

It was an intriguing proposition and she would think on it further. But for the moment she could only be grateful that he had formed such an army to retake her kingdom. She had to respect him for that, even though she was a little jealous of his fame.

Not for the first time she railed against the injustice of the world. Had she been born a man none of this would ever have mattered. Her rule would be unchallenged and unquestioned. The blight would have been nothing but a minor abberation in her long struggle for consolidation over Ferelden's southern holdings.

But she was not a man, and thus to muse otherwise was a pointless exercise. She knew her position was still weak, after all she was not even Queen without the crucial support of Duran and the Wardens. In light of such circumstances she would need to bide her time. Play the game and acknowledge his role in all this, at least until the crisis was over. After that she wasn't sure what would happen. But it would hardly matter if Denerim was burnt to the ground around her.

She stared once again at the horizon. The smoke was a good sign. The darkspawn were known to have been at least two days ahead of the army on their long march. There was great fear that the city may have fallen during that head start. Although the warning had been sent it was unknown how thorough Denerim's preparations had been before the attack. The fact that it was still burning was probably a good sign. For, if it was not, the city would likely have already fallen.

The march itself had taken little over a week. They had made excellent time. Moving an army of dalish, dwarven and human soldiers was no simple task, not to mention the contingent of mages and golems as well. The armies had made excellent use of the imperial highway, at least the portions not in a state of disrepair, and the mages had proven most valuable in healing and regenerating the troops. So much so that the force had averaged roughly 40 kilometres a day. It was a truly remarkable feat and, thought Anora, quite unprecedented.

Anora overheard Arl Eamon conversing with Duran nearby. He was talking about the plan of attack. Anora had informed herself of their plans and, though she left the details to them, she was satisfied that the preparations were adequate.

The armies had gathered neatly into formation behind them and were waiting expectantly. Duran had already advised the troop commanders what was expected and each of them knew their duty. They only awaited the signal to attack and with a moment's notice would descend on the city to liberate it.

Anora turned to face Duran. Arl Eamon finished his report and Duran approached Anora respectfully.

Taking a deep bow Duran conveyed the news. 'Your Majesty, your army is ready to take your orders.'

Anora nodded. They had already arranged that Anora would address the troops before the battle. Although the situation in Denerim was critical, Duran was insistent that a simple speech would rouse the hearts of the army. He was also, to Anora's considerable surprise, adamant that the troops should hear their Queen speak. Anora would have insisted in any event, but with Duran perhaps anticipating her wishes he had proposed it himself. It was a welcome move. If he continued to act in such a way beyond the blight, that is if he acted in support of the crown and not himself, then perhaps their alliance would not be so bad after all.

Anora approached the makeshift platform, hastily constructed for such a purpose. The cohorts of troops were staring at her, watching her every move. These were her troops, her army. Not all of them owed her their allegiance, those of the dwarves and dalish certainly did not, but for now she was their leader and they would follow her into battle as was right and proper. Though she felt trepidation and nervousness tug at her heart, she forced herself to dismiss it. She had never addressed an army before. In times past it would be Cailan, or more than likely Loghain, who would do the talking. She did not want her soldiers to see her frightened.

She addressed them in her loudest voice, her confidence and conviction appeared apparent in the tone. 'Before us stands the might of the darkspawn horde. Gaze upon them now, but fear them not!'

She paced back and forth while she spoke, pausing only to indicate Duran to her right. 'This man beside me is a dwarf of Orzammar and now risen to the ranks of the Grey Wardens. He is proof that glory is within reach of us all. He has survived despite the odds and without him none of us would be here.'

She climbed down the steps and stood before the troops. Unsheathing her sword, which had seen little real combat but looked the part, she continued. 'Today we save Denerim, today we avenge the death of my husband and your king Cailan. But most of all we will show the Grey Wardens we remember and honor their sacrifice. For Ferelden and for the Grey Wardens.'

Her voice boomed down the ranks and was met with cheers and applause. She thrust her sword at Denerim and history would record she was the first soldier to charge that day. Duran was at her side, completing the image of a warrior queen and her lover charging into the battle. In truth the idea of Duran being her lover was the last thing on Anora's mind. But she was no fool. The legend would be born and with it her own reputation. Duran's own image and reputation cast a long shadow, and she was determined she would not be consumed by it.