Chapter Seventy-Two: Battle of the Alba, Day One

The Battle of the Alba is another battle that will be talked about for centuries in military circles, albeit not in civilian ones.

As I have said elsewhere, the battle at Sahrnia had ended the sword and bow era of warfare, and the battle on the Hafter had demonstrated that magic could not save it from the arrival of firearms.

The one on the Alba put two theories of firearms warfare against one another; namely that of the Qunari against that of Earth. The Qun did not have access to the Earth Library, and they are not the type to simply adopt the principles of another people. Inspired by their observations of our own performances in battle and our technology, they came up with an array of changes behind closed doors.

Centred on the prefecture of Kont-aar, the Qunari were in the midst of a military revolution of their own. New weapons, new tactical doctrines, new logistical strategies and new recruiting policies began development as early as the middle of 9:39, about the time we were marching to war in Orlais.

This increased in speed and urgency as soon as Tallis made good her escape to her masters, and brought back even more intelligence on our actions. Resources poured in from the rest of Qunandar's empire to feed the new war machine.

To Earthling eyes, their design and strategy decisions would probably seem bizarre. I know I thought so at first. However, given they were starting centuries' behind with no experience of what works, their ideas made a sort of sense. Especially in the context of watching us without the context of future firearms developments in mind.

A necessary thing to understand is the geography of the region.

The River Alba itself rises in the Vimmark Tail-Hills, near Last Mount.

It proceeds as an underground river for the entire length of Val Halla, falling into a sinkhole that leads to a section of the Deep Roads deliberately designed as an aqueduct system that flows into Lake Alba.

The long lake is in fact an artificial reservoir, or was at the time of the Tevinter Imperium's height, used to supply the palaces of Hercinia with water via overland aqueducts. These were torn down during the original siege of the city by the armies of Andraste, and the material was used to build defences around the city afterwards.

The reservoir's exit flows were left open, creating the Alban Falls. From there, the Alba flows east, skirting the granite plain that marks the beginning of Val Halla to the south-west and Hercinia's territory to the north-east. The river exits to the sea just as the coast changes from running east-west to north-south, right beside the granite heights of Fort Gibraltar.

The Alba is also considerably deeper than its visible length or tributaries would suggest, possesses significant marshland to either side of it, and combined with the immediate lack of good land to farm on the Valhallan side of the river, it is a natural border.

The soil-less land stretches a few kilometres inland until the slopes of the hill the river flows down, surrounded by trees. Between the beach and these barren flats is a higher outcropping, which we turned into Fort Gibraltar.

So, to summarise, from the coast to inland, south of the banks of the Alba are:

A beach, curving away to the southwest

A hillfort and some small rocky hills

A patrol road sheltered from the ocean winds by the hills, starting at the fort and going west-south-west

A three kilometre wide plain of flat granite that stretched twenty miles to the west

And steep forested hills.

We'd be fighting in all of it. Including the river.

On hearing the news that the Qunari were offloading troops so close to our borders, we went straight to Fort Gibraltar to observe the situation.

Naturally, it was one of the forts that was equipped with an eluvian, being a starfort on the edges of our territory. Gibraltar is named for a place on Earth, a enclave of a former empire, and it has another name: The Rock.

Its Thedosian sister is not as impressive, it is still a hundred metre high hill made of solid granite, into which we used magic and explosives to cut gun positions and bunkers. So, we were both safe and had a commanding view of the entire Alba estuary area and the city of Hercinia beyond.

We arrived on the battlements with scopes just in time to see the Qunari start crossing the river.

The army was in a long column of march, stretching back across to the southern outskirts of Hercinia. They were using a pontoon, flung across the river and the wide tidal marshlands around it, far enough away from the fort to avoid the worst of our cannon.

It did not seem like they were planning to advance straight down the coast, the legions sent across simply... loitered at the beachhead. They were just a blur in the summer sun, the heat off the stone interfering somewhat with our view, but there could be no mistake.

They were massing their entire army before marching on the patrol road, which snaked all the way to Troy, entirely avoiding the very formidable defences of Gibraltar. They'd probably bypass the other forts along the way too.

I cursed the frugality of the Chancellor. I had argued for another fort upriver at one point to prevent just this eventuality. Velarana had retorted that it was a waste of money, that defeating the enemy in the field was the whole point of the already-expensive army, that adding yet more expensive forts on top of that was obscene use of taxpayer money.

I should've stormed the Assembly sooner, I thought darkly to myself.

"Twenty-five thousand at least," Louise said, slowly scanning through a large telescope set up on a tripod to my left, "Qunari and Hercinian mounted raiders. Mostly Qunari."

"We should stop them here," Soprano said, "The eastern communes are close, I don't think the sight of burning buildings would be good for morale."

"Or we could let them advance," Mike countered, "Extend their supply lines, break them against the line fortresses around Troy. A few villages can be evacuated and rebuilt later."

By now, refugees from Orlais were being settled elsewhere in Val Halla, always along the coastline and under the protection of forts linked by eluvians. None of the villages were designed to stand up to what the Qunari were putting over the Alba. To say nothing of the dreadnoughts we had yet to lay eyes on. They were still anchored out of sight, behind the palaces of Hercinia to the north.

I squinted at the distance as large shapes began moving over the pontoon.

"Are those guns?" I thought aloud, "Or rockets?"

"Organ cannons, on wheels," Louise confirmed, "Same thing as you see on the deck of a dreadnought?" Though she had only seen such things in drawings. Essentially, organ guns are multiple cannon barrels lined up in a row or two, like a church or chantry organ.

Low velocity weapons that took ages to reload, and were far more likely than our weapons to break. But still, the Qunari didn't use the force of the weapon or rate of fire to do damage, they instead related on shells filled with blackpowder or Antivan fire. Nasty stuff. We'd have to deal with the guns, and we had the tools for the job, but they weren't precision instruments at the sorts of ranges we'd be shooting. Which meant we'd need to use a lot of shot, and thus, far less firepower to deal with the Qunari infantry.

I was absentmindedly trying to figure out how the Qunari would use their weapons, when there came a piercing animal cry from directly above. The entire High Command looked up into the bright blue sky, shielding their eyes from the high summer sun when doing so.

The eagles were circling above, slowly descending in a spiral. Our friend in the Fade was watching, clearly. And more.

The eagles settled onto the battlements, still crying, as if for attention. I moved past the others to get closer, and the birds all swivelled to look at me directly, shutting up. That was creepy as shit.

"Enough of the games," I said to them, causing a few of my officers to look at me funny, "What's the issue?"

All three birds; golden-brown, bald-headed, jet-black, turned their heads a different direction. Across the river, towards the southern edge of Hercinia that was clearly visible. Something worth seeing over there, being the message.

Wary that any more surprises could see us undone, I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Rushing, I clambered up onto the battlements too, looking to the city beyond for any clue as to what the eagles were indicating. There was movement, but it was just dust, it could be anything.

"Louise, move the telescope up here," I said, "Quickly!"

The scope was passed up to me, and I kicked open the tripod to place awkwardly on the top of the pink granite I was standing on. Aiming the glass at Hercinia, I spied the entire scene.

Hercinia, uniquely among the major cities of the Marches, does not have city walls.

It consists of the large palaces, formerly those of Tevinter magisters, all of which were mini-fortresses in themselves. Around these large structures were housing blocks and slums, where the servants of the magisters used to live and now the free inhabitants of the city did. There were docklands on the very far north, out of my sight behind the taller of the central palaces.

It was the prospect of having to take multiple, mutally supporting palace-forts, all defended by ruthless and bloodthirsty raider lords that prevented other powers from taking the city.

The raider lords felt the need to ride forth, now that they had Qunari cannons and legions to aid them. That combination would've put even Orlesian marshals in doubt of victory. But not us.

The dustcloud was the forces of Hercinia itself; the raiders, pirates allied to them and as many mercenaries as Antivan gold could obtain in the six months leading up to this moment. The gold didn't only buy the men either. It bought horses. At least half the raiders were mounted, perhaps more.

I felt my stomach churn at the prospect. The Qunari didn't use cavalry on the mainland of Thedas as far as I knew, and transporting their big lizard mounts by sea wouldn't have worked. I had calculated much of the enemy's ability to move based on the fact they'd have to march on foot. The raider cavalry gave the opposing forces strategic movement I didn't think they would have.

The entire force was marching past Qunari troops; they were being moved to the front of the queue over the pontoon bridge, now that there was a beachhead. For immediate action, logically speaking.

"Cavalry," I told the others, "Lots of it."

"No match for ours of course," Blondie replied, stepping up to the telescope to see, "Though I'm sure they'll buzz around us like flies, stinging and biting where they can."

I shook my head.

"They're being moved over ahead of more Qunari infantry," I stated, "They're going to attack... something."

"They can't take the fort," Mike said confidently, "Do they intend to bypass us?"

I looked to the south west, along the shoreline and down the patrol road that went all the way back to Troy, by way of several villages and a few more forts. The road was flanked on the left by more rocky granite rises, smaller ones than the one Gibraltar was carved out of, but still useful positions. I thought casually that it would be nice to have cannons up there; the dense forest was closer to the coast at that point, leaving only a narrow passage for any army to move through into Valhalla.

Amusement washed over me as I realised the enemy likely thought the same thing. And knowing what the enemy intended was halfway to beating them.

"They're going to capture the hills to the southwest," I said, "The raiders will charge across the flats, get up on that hill and hold it until dark. We've only got about five hours of light left, and it'll be three before they have their entire force across the river. That pontoon isn't wide."

At any other time of year, it would've already been too dark. But it just so happened to be the longest day of the year.

"Is that wise?" McNulty asked, "I mean, we can move by eluvian and maybe they know that. Surely they know we'll just move our forces to the next fort and oppose them there."

"But they don't have eluvians, they need to secure access to food, water, lines of retreat," I replied, before tapping the cannon near me with my knuckles, "Their line of supply and retreat already runs across that river beyond the range of the guns of this fort. If they control the hills near the road, they can defend against raids from this fort too. That more or less makes Gibraltar into a useless thing for us, and not even an annoyance for them."

"They're eliminating the fort as a threat without taking it," Soprano further explained, "It's not quite how I would do it, but the Qunari are known for the guile."

"Hercinian raiders aren't, which is why they're the ones going to take the hill," I agreed, "The Qunari likely have them riddled through with spies and informers, pulling their strings like puppets."

"So what do we do?" Mike asked, "We have only one eluvian at this location. It is not enough to bring through significant forces to oppose them."

"We have more eluvians than that," I replied, "I'll want the Guard, the Lancers and the Dragoons here as soon as possible, with every piece of light artillery on wheels we have. We'll get to the hills first, and then smash the raiders with cavalry and cannonfire."

"It'll take days to bring them through the single eluvian, sir," Mike reiterated, slightly irritated. I was sorta surprised she hadn't realised the workaround to that problem immediately. Funny.

"We use that single eluvian to bring in more," I smirked, "Bring in more eluvians by eluvian."

There was a pause.

"Would that even work?" Soprano asked.

"Of course it will," I replied, "There are eluvians in the Crossroads too, remember. How do you think they got there? Speaking of which, we should pull those too."

My assumption was correct, the eluvians were not created in the Crossroads but rather on Thedas, and so bringing one through another was a simple process. Mariette organised the effort, of moving all our reserve eluvians through. There was a chart somewhere on a wall of our headquarters organising how the flow of troops and supplies would go from Troy to the Crossroads to Gibraltar, something we had come up with as theoretical a few months previously.

Another piece of theory was this; the enemy pontoon bridge across the Alba was wide enough to accommodate a carriage or two horses side by side at a time. Calculating the possible volume of the eluvians, our 'bridge' through the Crossroads could accommodate the equivalent of twelve horses (though the eluvians were too narrow to fit regular carriages or carts).

Theory would now be put to the test, and it was a race between us and the enemy. Who could deploy their full force and take the hill first? Each of us had our advantages; we could move more at a time and we knew we were in a race before the enemy did, but they had a big headstart and soon were aware that something was going on.

The reason for that last fact was simple: Gibraltar did not have the space to hide a large number of troops. As the Lancer regiments under Isewen came through, they went straight out of the fort into column along the patrol road, advancing just far enough to let the next unit coming to do the same.

The Guard under Louise were next, then the Dragoons under Mike, and the light artillery under Locke. Finally, I came through with Bellona. I intended to command this fight personally. I needed it, and I needed to assert my authority for political reasons, if only on the first day. What a drag that was.

By the time I was riding along the column to join Louise and Isewen near the front of it, the enemy had completed their crossing of the river too. Slowly but surely, I could see the wide charge line of raider cavalry moving out across the flats.

It was still too far to see what sort of thing they were armed with, but they were colourfully decked out, at least as much so as any chevalier I ever met. I had no doubt that camouflage was a concept they did know, just that it was pointless on this occasion. The raiders of Hercinia ranged far and wide, tolerated only because they gave the nobles of the Marches something to justify their continued existence.

"It's going to be close," Louise said as I joined her masked entourage, "The Hercinians are about as far from the hills are we are."

They had moved even more quickly than I had expected. The possibility of us having to take the hill back by assault was growing, and I didn't like that concept one little bit. My displeasure at this must have been evident on my face.

"But we have the road," Isewen added quickly, "We'll get there first, I'm sure of it."

"Then let's go," I agreed.

"Colonne, marchez!"

The column began its advance down the gentle western slope of Gibraltar's hill.

The hooves of several thousand horses moved along, on the road and to either side of it, in a thunderous cacophony. The entire force moved at pace that a well trained horse can keep up forever, the easy quick canter of warmounts. Everyone understood that energy needed to be held back for the fight, the enemy included.

The itching of my palms grew with every yard we advanced, my mind racing to work out if we'd make it. The more I watched, the more I thought we would reach the hills at more or less the same time the Hercinians did. That was good and bad news. Good, we'd stop them taking the hills for certain, bad, it would be extremely messy.

As if I was going to accept that outcome. I intended to teach a lesson no one would miss the point of.

"Colonel Isewen, take the Lancers forward!" I commanded via radio, "At the double."

Isewen, to her great credit, was unperturbed that I was essentially ordering her unit to take the brunt of the assault for a moment, but the Lancers had the distinct advantage of being lighter than the chevaliers of the Guard or the raiders facing us. She'd get to the hills first and would be able to charge the enemy, give as good as she got.

The Lancers broke into a gallop as one, rumbling away like a rocket.

It wasn't a huge distance to cover. Isewen wisely set up to block moves by towards either of the hills that could have been bases for us to fire on the enemy supply lines, leaving plenty of room for us to form up on her right. This was highly satisfactory work, and added to my growing sense that the leaders I had chosen were coming into their own as commanders.

Examining the enemy once again, it was increasingly clear there were two types of enemies coming at us on horseback. They were spreading out for the charge, clearly not going to be deterred by our presence alone, giving us a good look too.

About half were what I can only describe as men and women jumping straight out of the Bayeux Tapestry; pointed helmets with nose-guards, long chainmail vests over padded tunics, traditional knightly swords rather than the curved sabres of the Orlesian chevalier, the long kite shields that reached all the way down to the knee.

The rest were more or less just mounted land-pirates, wearing little armour or clothing, and riding second-rate horses. Unlike their counterparts, they had the advantage of ranged weapons; crossbows were as ubiquitous as cutlasses among them.

Every now and then, I could see a random Templar; Hercinia was tolerated by the powers-that-be partially because of the presence of the Order, but naturally their ranks in the region were heavily depleted by the Mage-Templar War.

Above them hung many banners, but the largest was a red flag with a skull and two crossed swords. Red flags meant no quarter. Pirates of the land indeed. Jack Rackham would be astounded to see his flag on another world. Or a version of it.

They were not impressive to me. A few volleys would have seen them off. What was more worrying was their pace and the distance between us. They had increased the former and greatly reduced the latter. There wasn't going to be time for a three-rank volley. The enemy planned to charge directly at us.

I issued orders immediately. There was only one way to turn this into the one-sided rout of the enemy I needed it to be. I reckoned we had less than an hour's worth of good sunlight left for the artillery to be of any use.

It was but a few minutes before we were in position. We had beaten the enemy to the road and the hills, though we had to leave the artillery to make their way with only the lightest of escorts. But that didn't matter. The raiders' blood was up. They were shouting and screaming as they came. The grand charge was close to beginning.

Time for the chevaliers to make their mark in a way that they had never before.

Along the road and to the side of it, we formed three ranks facing the enemy. There wasn't time for the dragoons to dismount and form up as infantry, so they stayed in the saddle. As we dressed the line and the Lancers rejoined us, the enemy began to charge. A mistake; they had started too early. Their psychological warfare had backfired.

The great advantage of professional troops is that you can train them to perform far more difficult manoeuvres than you can with part-timers. I'm not sure there was or is another army that could have pulled off a volley-by-ranks completely mounted on horses.

The chevaliers took their short-barrel firelances from their saddle-holsters, and the dragoons whipped their own long-barrel infantry weapons off of their shoulders.

"Par peloton, en joue, FEU!"

Sections of the line levelled their weapons, aimed and fired. The smoke filled the darkening sky only briefly, before the sea breeze carried it off towards the forest, clearing the way for the next sections to shoot. It was excellently choreographed by the chevaliers, but was not so by the dragoons, who had far less training in this type of shooting. Instead, the dragoons used their superior rate of fire to make up the difference.

It wasn't three rounds a minute, but nonetheless, a continuous barrage was kept up along the entire line, stalling the enemy charge for the moment.

The bullets shattered the horses underneath the raiders, our troops adhering to the principle of shooting the horses of mounted enemies. Those not hit were forced to slow down to negotiate the bucking, wounded animals in front of them. Not all of them succeeded, their own mounts attempting to jump those on the ground and failing, or being thrown off by panic. The enemy fell into pools of blood.

It was all very edifying, as Bellona climbed the hill a little so I could get a better view, but I also noticed something more concerning. The flashes of the volleys were noticeable not only in the smoke, but on the ground and on the faces of the troops. Every shot strobed out into the increasing dark. I also noticed a dark shadow spreading slowly from the west, inching forward each minute that passed.

I had failed to take a crucial factor into account; the small mountains that enclose Valhalla are normally to our north and they were to our west on this battlefield. That is to say, they were directly in the way of the sun.

We had far less than an hour left.

And to boot, the raiders were beginning to regroup and crossbow bolts were flying in retaliation. The Templars among them must have already used their abilities, because it didn't look like the barriers of our own mages were protecting anyone.

"Louise, prepare the charge," I said via radio, "We have less time than I thought. Do it now."

Blondie was quick about it, and probably had come to the same conclusion.

The heavy chevalier lancers had been held in reserve for such a moment. Those on the firing line moved out of the way, and both heavy and light lancers drew up in a charge line. Once that was complete, every other soldier in the division holstered or slung their firelances, and drew their melee weapons. Sabres and short spears.

Bugles sounded our charge, which bounded off the side of the road in a great sweep towards the raiders. There is a painting of this moment in the National Gallery by Beauregard that I thoroughly recommend, given that the man himself was present and so avoids the ridiculousness of depicting the enemy as similarly armoured as our troops were. Though maybe I like it because I'm just a speck on a hilltop in it next to a barely visible flag.

Being ferocious killers, thieves and rapists, the enemy wasn't exactly cowed by the development. They countercharged, rather ineffectively, though bravely. Rogues rarely lack bravery.

On our right, the dragoons fought on equal terms with the lighter enemy cavalry, but it was clear that neither were built for that sort of fighting.

It degenerated into an almost infantry-like fight, close-in and with no space between. Our boys and girls had a particular advantage in that they carried short infantry spears as weapons, something we gave them to repel cavalry in the event of them running out of ammunition while they were on foot. It let them reach their opponents with ease, while the raiders had to try and hack at the heads of the dragoons' horses. Which they did.

On the left, it was a much more professional performance on our part. The lancers, both heavy and light, ripped through the enemy formation with ease. Into the gaps poured the cuiraissers, sabres swinging like weed-whackers.

Chainmail prevented the riders from being cut, but a sabre is still a massive steel bar and the enemy horses did not have the benefit of armour. The 'Normans' had been closer to us than their lighter comrades by some strange luck, and were driven back to about the same position, so the two fights joined up as one in the centre.

And the cherry on top was Isewen leading a regiment around the left flank, and smashing into the side and rear of the enemy right. They circled, going back to back as far as anyone can on a horse, trying to fend off the crushing weight of our attack.

The momentum of our attack did dampen though, and we began to take casualties. Not huge numbers, but enough to forestall a complete destruction of the enemy line.

This was hugely frustrating. Yes, we would win. Yes, we had secured the hills. But it could've been better, if we had been just a little bit faster. Perhaps I was being perfectionist, but still.

Appropriately enough, the end of the day's fighting was signalled by cannonfire. The first of the light batteries got into action just as darkness was closing in below us, not firing at the mass but at those trying to skulk off from it. It was only a three cannon volley, but it was enough to scare the shit out of the raiders.

They broke and ran. I'd say possibly as much as two thirds succeeded. It started at the rear, which dispersed in all possible directions of escape. This reduced the pressure being applied against our own lines, particularly on our right, which then forced those who still had fight in them to run or die. On our left, the Lancers managed to almost completely encircle the 'regiment' they had flanked.

Our people had orders to not pursue, leaving the harassing of the retreat to our cannons.

The encircled troops threw down their arms and surrendered, something they did out of fear of being 'cannoned to death' as one of them later put it to Blondie.

We had won. The enemy had suffered maybe twenty percent casualties and another fifteen percent captured. But the enemy still had cavalry, and thus more flexibility than I would have liked.

More to the point, the Qunari had no doubt observed closely the power of our weapons and had determined that an attack of their own was not doomed.

The sun set on the battlefield and more of our troops marched out of the eluvians in a continuous stream from Gibraltar, deploying for the moment between the fort and the hills along the road. I rode past them to join the High Command in deciding the next day's move. I also had something else on my mind; the fact I hadn't told Julie or Tam about what had happened in Kirkwall.

The thought of doing so sent shivers of need through me, need for what I will probably continue to call Silk Cocaine in these writings.

I denied myself that urge as much as possible, and concentrated on the next battle.

I arrived at the fort just as the first of the heavy guns was being dragged through the eluvians, big 200mm siege weapons on wheeled-sleds, their mounts coming through separately.

The small central space carved out of the rock which served as the commander's office in normal circumstances became the centre of government for the entire Republic, for a few days anyway. It had been prepared as closely as possible to our own HQ, map table and all. We didn't have a real map for the estuary, so there was a roughly drawn sketch that would serve its purpose. Only the essential personnel were there. The highest ranking.

They all stood bolt straight when I walked in.

"Emperor," Soprano intoned gravely, beginning to speak.

"You know how I feel about that," I interrupted quickly, "No pleasantries. Tell me what we're going to have to work with in the morning."

"We'll have the entire Peacekeeper Corps and the primary Reserve on the field," Mike said, "All thirty-seven firelance-armed regiments, including the two Marine ones, assuming they're at our disposal."

The diminutive she-elf shot a venomous glance at Admiral Fisher, who winced.

"Both the Home Fleet and the Marines are ready, though the Marines are not eager after what happened at the Assembly," the admiral added, "Best to keep them separate from the main fighting. Perhaps we should use them to attack the beached Qunari ships north of Hercinia?"

Fisher would develop a habit of proposing plans that would potentially increase the size of his fleet, and this was no exception. It wasn't a bad idea either, Qunari dreadnoughts had stout hulls, but I had something else in mind.

"Might work, but we need to take that pontoon bridge," I said, "We can't let this army escape to fight another day, and we'll need to cross the river ourselves. The only way to do all that is by a naval strike. The Justice and Libertéare longships, they can sail upriver with the Marines, while the Camille, Cécile, and Élodie cover the estuary, keep the dreadnoughts from interfering."

Fisher considered this for a moment, before shaking his head slowly.

"Normally, it would be possible," the admiral said, "But tomorrow will have little wind. The dreadnoughts will be able to manoeuvre, our galleons will not. The longships would be on their own, and without good wind, I'm not sure they could make good enough speed to get upriver without being blown apart by the Qunari batteries next to that fortified camp of theirs."

"Fortified camp?" I asked.

"They were dragging up mud from the estuary and putting it into sacks," McNulty reported, "Stacking it into walls."

That was familiar.

"Can we not simply destroy the bridge?" Soprano asked, "Use our ships tied up to make our own bridge afterwards? Like we did to get everything to shore when we first arrived in Valhalla?"

"It's an option, but it's not ideal," I replied, "Sure, we'd trap the enemy army, but that leaves a whole lot of wiggle room for both the Qunari and whoever is holding down Hercinia. The Qunari get the choice to stay to try and cause casualties as we move against the city, and the bastards calling themselves lords in those palaces can take their wealth away on ships."

There was general agreement with that.

"Could we use canoes and small boats?" Aurelia asked, "Cut a route through the forest?"

We all turned to the Avvars, hanging around at the back, the people who would know.

"Cutting through the forest is no problem," said Aoife, rubbing her head, "Doing it in the dark, unnoticed by the horned-ones, it would be impossible.."

"So we do it in daylight," McNulty said, "Get every small boat we can get our hands on. Keep the Qunari busy, and attack the pontoon from upriver."

"Won't work," Fisher said immediately, "We don't have enough small boats to carry enough men to hold off the Qunari reserves. Even if we ordered our agents everywhere else to start stealing them to bring through the eluvians, the mirrors are little busy tonight."

That was an understatement. The last troops would only come through an hour before fighting resumed.

"Destroy the bridge with the deux-cents from long range and be done with it," Soprano remarked flippantly, "Deploy the Navy the day after tomorrow to stop anyone getting out. No wind means the Hercinians aren't getting away on any ship except a Qunari one, and I doubt the Qunari are going to wait around while the bastards drag cartloads of gold on-board."

There was silence for a moment. I can't speak for the others, but I really wanted that damn bridge.

"Pity we don't have dragons," joked a voice from a corner, "We could load them up with troops and land behind the Qunari."

It was Mariette, leaning against a wall to my far left, behind where McNulty and Mike were standing.

I would've suffered from another bout of addition, if it hadn't been for her exact words.

"Dragons"

"Mariette de Villars, you are a genius," I declared, "You've just solved the problem."

The High Command looked sceptical, even incredulous. None less so than Mariette.

"Where are we going to get dragons that won't burn and eat us?" Soprano said with a roll of her eyes, "Don't tell me there are ways of taming dragons on Earth?"

"There are no dragons on Earth," McNulty smiled back, "Remember?"

"Oh yes, how could I forget?" replied Soprano, sarcasm pouring off every syllable.

Smirks all around on that one.

"Ever hear of Ragnar Lothbrok?" I asked, before I explained my full plan.

We completed our battle plan for the second day, but I will leave the further details of that for the next chapter. There was general satisfaction with it, particularly the deceptive elements built into it.

I ordered Mariette and Aurelia to follow, and proceeded back through the eluvians to Troy. In the Crossroads, I was told that Julie and Tam were on the Mont de Mars. Something about the Grey Wardens. So we briefly interrupted the flow of troops going the other way and stepped out into the night air of summer in our home once more.

The eluvians had been moved to the marching grounds between Troy and Camp Jerusalem, on the sand flats before the dunes, and the staging ground was full of troops. They were napping on top of their fieldbags waiting until their turn to go through, hanging around the open fires, checking their weapons.

I walked at a quick pace out towards the city again; all our horses were at Gibraltar. Mariette managed to keep pace, but Aurelia had trouble. She was smaller, and her condition wasn't ideal for a hard march.

"Wait!" she shouted from behind, "Slow down!"

I barely heard her, consumed with my thoughts... until a magical wall of fire erupted in front of me. It couldn't possibly have hurt me, or Mariette for that matter, but the sight of fire always gives a man pause.

There were shouts of fear from behind, clearly no one having expected to see such a conflagration appear out of nowhere.

Before I could speak, I had a naginata blade to my throat.

"You are being extremely rude," Aurelia said calmly, but firmly, "I understand your … trepidation, but that is no excuse. Lady de Villars is not the only person carrying your child."

"Okay, I understand," I said quickly, "No need to kill me."

"Do you?" Aurelia said, moving the blade further up my neck but not removing it, "Perhaps I should give you a scar to remind you? You have not been the same man since coming back from Kirkwall."

"And why do you think that is?" I asked sarcastically, "I am so far out of my depth here, my head feels like it's going to burst. I'm having children with not just one woman, but four. Do you have any idea how fucking weird that is? How offensive that is to everything I used to believe?"

The blade came away from my neck at last, and my hand shot up to check for a cut almost by its own volition. There was no blood.

"Your values still need to change, husband," Aurelia said, more understanding right now, "You are not on Earth any longer. You have a special gift that can only be spread one way, something every realm would desire. You're now Emperor, you need to use that gift for the realm's benefit."

Christ, there's a line I was not expecting to hear as a result of marching on the Assembly. I tended to forget that Aurelia was herself a leader of a fraternity now, a political party dedicated to the establishment of an imperialist state with a hereditary head of state.

"You sound like Ianto," Mariette interjected, "It is disgusting."

"It is reality, Lady de Villars," Aurelia countered, "You have been given a great gift. You should embrace it. As should you, Sam, as you did when you married me. Surround yourself with people who rely on that gift, or it will get you killed. Magic is the most potent force on this world, the ability to enhance or dampen it is extremely valuable."

"Does she ever shut up?" Mariette asked me in Orlesian, "This Tevinter shit is beginning to irritate me."

"Not when it comes to this subject," I replied in Common, "I'm really regretting becoming 'Emperor' now. Though Great Khan has a nice ring to it."

A comment my Tevinter bride would remember.

"Go tell Julie and Tam," Aurelia continued, dismissively, "Hold your head high. Monarchs are expected to have children with nobles. I have seen your Earth Library, remember? The same is true in your own world."

Right, because I wanted to turn into a Henry VIII or an Ottoman sultan. How exhausting. All the more so when I understood that I pretty much already was something like that. I was having a serious case of imposter syndrome, or a reverse case, believing myself more evil than others seemed to regard me.

Breeding to produce beneficial supernatural effects was par-for-the-course for a 'Vint though, a step above the Orlesian attitude of breeding for political advantage.

"You only say that because you expect to be Queen," I replied, "Julie will not let you take precedence or a crown."

"It's actually Tam I should be more worried about, as far as I can determine," Aurelia smiled wryly, "But you're dodging the issue now. You have to tell them."

She was right about that. Annoyingly so.

"No, you don't," Mariette cut in, "If you really do not want to, we can keep it secret."

Could've kissed her at that moment, just for even suggesting that I didn't have to have the conversation.

"Don't be childish, you have a dangerous job," Aurelia replied, "What happens when you're injured and no magic can heal you without killing the attending mage?"

"Not to mention the reaction if the truth gets out later would be... nuclear," I added, "Aurelia is right on this point. Unfortunately."

With that, I walked forward once more. At a more relaxed pace.

Tam and Julie were in the main chambers of the headquarters building, standing around our original map table. First thing of note was the place was filled with Grey Wardens. Bethany Hawke, Stroud, all the Trojan officers and most of the NCOs.

This wasn't particularly unusual, Tam was Warden-Commander and sometimes used the room to plan operations.

Seeing all of them in the room at the same time was weird, however. The Wardens were formally a part of our military, but how they should be deployed wasn't something the Army's officers had a good handle on. So we let the Wardens decide their own deployments, which generally meant Bethany Hawke called the shots on where they would be at any particular time, tempered by Tam's good sense.

Their bases were all generally in the north, near the entrances to the Deep Roads along the crest of the Vimmark Tail-Hills. So many of their leaders in one place meant that they had redeployed to the city.

This was confirmed when I made my way up to them and saw that there was one of the Department of the Homeland maps of the city, part of a set they updated weekly.

I made the obvious assumption as to why that was.

"Bringing your Wardens back to defend the city?" I asked Tam, rhetorically, "Won't the Order disapprove?"

"They most certainly will," Stroud answered, "As I have tried to explain to the Warden-Commander."

"The Republic is going to be a vital source of arms for the Wardens in the future," Tam replied coolly, "Weisshaupt can't afford to let the Qunari or anyone else take this city."

"The Wardens will get your weapons even if you are defeated," Stroud said, "We are too far from Qunandar for the Qun to win, so it'll be the Marchers who take the city if you are defeated. They'll give us the weapons as tithes."

"We would destroy our factories before the city was taken," Julie said, crossing her arms, "And you weren't permitted to be here so you can bitch about our decisions. You were brought here to tell us the minimum force you can operate in the northern sector without risking darkspawn attacks against our civilians."

Stroud's moustache positively shivered with disapproval, and no doubt I had waded into a longstanding argument between our Wardens and their fellows. But I wasn't here to participate.

"Clear the room!" I ordered, "You can have your little party later."

"Yes, your Majesty," Bethany said, giving a close-fisted salute across the chest.

"Don't call me that," I said uselessly after her, as the Wardens left the room.

The crowd disappeared, my nerves growing with each person that disappeared from view. I tried to suppress the

"What's wrong?" Julie asked, taking my hand.

"You look pale," Tam added, "Do you want to sit down?"

Fearing that I would break down if I was made in any way comfortable, I refused.

"Probably shouldn't," I said, as I broke off from Julie, "There's something I need to tell you about Kirkwall."

Julie and Tam exchanged glances, becoming nervous themselves. I paced around the table a little way, wondering where to start. The beginning, I guess.

"We were captured. Ianto took us to give time for our enemies to muster, or that's what he told the rest of the world. What he really wanted was my abilities."

"But how could he gain them?" Tam said, "He doesn't have the ability to have children, and even if he did, it is a secret that you can pass on your powers."

"He found out through the Venatori," I said, "Apparently someone called Corypheus told them."

"Corypheus?" Aurelia asked loudly, "The magister who breached the Fade?"

I turned back to Aurelia, forgetting that I didn't tell her about that detail.

"The Venatori believe he's up and walking again, according to Ianto," I replied, "He told them about the Outlanders, and they told Ianto."

Aurelia bit her lip. "Corypheus was one of our line," she said, "He would have known about your abilities... but there's no way he's alive. They must have found inscriptions."

"If that pirate knows the truth, then so does the rest of the world," Mariette said, "Not a nice thought."

"Indeed," Tam mused, "But continue the story. Did Ianto have some blood magic to take your abilities for himself?"

"He didn't want them for himself exactly," he said, "He wanted to control people who had it. But he wasn't the kind of person to trust crazy fucking cultists and take their word."

"And there's only one way he could do that," Mariette said.

"Breeding," Tam concluded, "He wanted to use you like a sire for a generation of mages."

"Anti-mages too. He was going to sell them, like an arms dealer," I said, "The Chantry would've paid anything for Templars immune to magic, and Tevinter families have done worse than pay for breeding stock in the past."

"But you cooperated?" Julie asked incredulously, "The potential damage to the world... how could you?"

"They put every young woman they had captured in front of me," I replied, "Ianto threatened to torture and kill every one of the men in front of me, use every single woman as a breeder instead and sell the children in Tevinter. They put one on his desk, on her stomach, legs held apart. Couldn't take it."

"You almost did," Mariette reminded me, "I had to snap you out of it. You might have let them violate that girl out of sheer hatred and defiance... though maybe only briefly."

"True," I said.

"So you raped women on his behalf instead?" Julie said, her face curled with disgust.

"No!" I said, "That's not how it worked! Let me explain!"

Julie turned away, her head in her hands, not sure what to believe. Tam, ever patient, merely looked on me with a blank face. Unreadable to most, but not to me. And what I read in that expression terrified me into silence.

But not Mariette, thankfully.

"I volunteered," Mariette said, "Ianto offered Sam a deal. Cooperate and he'd inform Troy of the coalition's attack plans. I took it, to save the girl, to save myself and everyone else. The bastard drugged us up on something that makes human touch feel like a narcotic, so we couldn't delay him by just pretending. The potions assured we wanted it."

Julie turned around, her eyes wet. Tam's gaze moved to Mariette.

"Magister, lightning," my Qunari partner said, "Now."

Aurelia half shrugged, and summoned a small bolt of electricity from the end of her finger, shooting it at Mariette immediately. The magic dissipated on contact, leaving no burn or scar, not even damage to her clothes. Confirmation.

"I see Ianto's manipulation was successful," Tam said.

"Not another one," Julie growled, "This is getting ridiculous, even by the standards of Orlais."

"Don't say that," Mariette frowned, "Lady Aurelia will lecture us on how Emperors are supposed to go around knocking up everyone they can."

"Lady Aurelia will remove your tongue from your head," Aurelia responded, "If Lady Aurelia continues to be talked about as if she isn't here."

"Shut up, both of you," Tam commanded, "Do you have any idea how serious this is? You cannot use magic to bring about an end to it."

"No, I'm a moron," Mariette responded, flying into the sort of rage that only an Orlesian aristocrat could muster, "I'm completely unaware of the consequences. I had no idea that non-magical means of ending the pregnancy are more likely to kill me than not."

"I'd like to think I'd sympathise," Julie said, her own anger clearly building, "The sarcasm isn't helping."

"The Warden-Commander pretending to be my mother isn't either," Mariette replied sharply, "Here's what you all need to know. I can take care of myself. I don't need your help, I don't want it, all I want is for you to be absolutely sure that this is not Sam's fault and it certainly isn't mine. I want to live here without you thinking I seduced him or used Ianto as an excuse. It's the only reason I tagged along."

"I am not in a position to hate you or Sam," Julie snapped back, "I have my own sins to bear. If you are feeling guilt, it is not because of my judgment, aristo. That you chased after Sam before, playing the Game, is something you have to live with now. You wanted this, once upon a time. Now that you have it, shouldn't you be happy?"

Mariette did not reply to that, she just shook her said.

"If you want to blame anyone, blame me," I said to Julie, "That goes for you too Tam."

"I do blame you, insofar as you can be blamed," Tam answered honestly, "Perhaps we should not have attacked Ianto's ships. But what's done is done. It would be childish in the extreme to dwell on it. We have to deal with the consequences."

"What do you suggest?" Mariette said, "I don't want to be hunted for the rest of my life, never mind my child. Assuming I'm going to keep it."

"Become the hunter instead," Aurelia said, "Sam should acknowledge the child. We should find Ianto and dismember him. Send a part to every realm's court with a message; witness the fate of those that attempt to seize the blood of the Outlander for themselves."

Tam's eyes narrowed at that. "Is this how your ancestors dealt with this threat?" she asked.

"No," Aurelia replied, "We dealt with it by nailing our enemies to crosses and displaying them on the roadsides and at ports. I also recommend we do that going forward."

"Clermont would be happy, at least," Julie half-joked, "I can't believe this happened. I was already uncomfortable with Aurelia being involved, but at least that had

"This isn't something we're going to solve tonight," Tam said, "Whether Mariette keeps the child is her choice, but whether we hide the child or acknowledge it, maybe even adopt it, that's all discussion we can have when the time comes closer."

We all agreed. As expected, no one knew what to make of it. All we'd achieve was further hurt by talking about it now. Besides which, I had a battle to fight in the morning.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Rolling edits to come, as usual.

The battle in this chapter has a map on my DeviantArt page, for those that are interested, my nickname on there is the same as my one here.

:Very glad you enjoyed it, I enjoy writing the political manoeuvre chapters a whole lot myself!

Vendicor: Hope this whetted your appetite for the bigger fight to come!

Sigma-del-Prisum: Velarana did indeed foresee events and Sam's likely reactions. Though she didn't see Ianto coming, which moved things a little further than she probably thought.

Thepkrmgc: Quite right, Sam isn't out of Dodge where the psychological aftermath of Kirkwall is concerned. Nor is Mariette.

Guest: That's more or less the conclusion that Velarana has drawn, but democracy has worked relatively well among people that originally adopted it. Spreading it by the sword on the other hand, has its own challenges.