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From the Ashes: Glimmers of Battle (ch. 27)
🕑 Added 2023-03-31 14:53:29 +0000 UTC“That was too much,” Leliana scolded me as we turned away from Teagan, who was speaking to Alistair in a low tone. I’m guessing he was either saying unkind things or plotting to put him on the throne of Ferelden. Frankly, I couldn’t have cared less in either case. “You must be diplomatic, Azoth. Bann Teagan controls the Arling now that his brother is recovering.”
“Or dying,” I muttered, wondering if I was hopeful or not, mostly out of spite. I sincerely doubted that Arl Eamon poisoned himself or let himself be poisoned willingly, but holy shite, it was very inconvenient for me. What an absolute prick. Same for his wife -- sending the entire Redcliff army off on a damn treasure hunt? What the fuck? Fucking Orleasains. And fuck the guy that poisoned him.
Leliana cast me a pointed look, “Do you think Bann Teagan poisoned him? It is most convenient that he is in control of the Arling.” She remarked and, oh. She was trying to be subtle and I had completely missed it on account of how angry I was at the situation. It was like they were doing this shite on purpose specifically to fuck me.
“Could be the machinations of Loghain,” Morrigan pitched in as we entered the village square. It was completely packed with people, everyone giving our odd group glances as they passed by. Sten was glowering at everyone while I think Shale was about to start swinging. “Though, I suppose T’would be just as likely as it would be his wife.”
Who was Orlesian. An orleasian plot?
I shook my head, “Who poisoned him doesn’t matter right now. We can deal with that shite later,” I decided, wondering what would be said between Isolde and Teagan when they thought no one was listening. “What we need right now is to organize this mess. I thought there would be an army here that Elissa could link up with.” This changed the situation radically in a very bad way.
Elissa’s plans to control the southern imperial highway went up in smoke in practice. Redcliff was supposed to supply five thousand soldiers to Ostagar, which would have gone a long way to protecting and policing southern Ferelden. Meaning that when she came here, the five hundred odd soldiers she had in addition to the Lothering refugees… It was a disaster waiting to happen. Too many people, too few resources, and too little of a policing force or organization.
“She can’t be stuck here,” I muttered to myself. The civil war was going to happen, I think she was right about that, but it was a question of how much blood was going to be spilled. With Elissa’s plan, she would sway the southern arling with her actions to control the Blight and horde while her name would give her the traditionalists. Between the two, Loghain’s support would crumble.
Only instead of that, Elissa would be bogged down here, stuck dealing with a mess, the darkspawn horde would be left to ravage southern Ferelden and the civil war would be far worse than it needed to be. More than that, Redcliff was a massive target. The darkspawn went after the largest mass of people, and the crossroad village was completely undefended, filled to the brim with people.
And people were milling about, ducking their heads and hoping that someone else was going to deal with the problem. I suppose they were going to get what they wanted. Unfortunately for them, that person would be me.
“You,” I said, grabbing the attention of a man walking by, his head low as he tried to pretend that he didn’t see us after stealing a glance. He started to walk faster, pretending that he didn’t hear either, only for Sten to reach out and roughly grab him by the shoulder, hurling him around. Even half dead Sten was a force to be rekkoned with. “Whose in charge here?” I demanded, a human looking up at me with wide eyes.
“Uh… Murdock?” He answered, helpfully pointing at a man with dark brown hair and a rough beard with a much thicker mustache than the rest of the beard. I nodded before urging Argo forward, my mind made up on what needed to be done. There was no hesitation or uncertainty. Something needed to be done. So far, it wasn’t done by other people, meaning that it was up to me.
Murdock glanced up at us as we approached, his gaze clearly tired. “Aye? What can I do for you, Wardens?” He asked me, sounding more exhausted than he looked. There were three men that he was dealing with -- a skinny one, a fit one, and a fat one. Fat one scowled at me in a way that I was very familiar with. Skinny seemed awed by my armor while the fit one seemed idly curious.
“More what I can do for you,” I told him, gesturing to the mess and, more importantly, Crossroad village. “We spotted a band of darkspawn a day's ride away from here,” I lied, making Murdock stiffen and the other three paled. “We killed it. The horde is spreading wide instead of grouping up, and fortifications need to be built. A militia needs to be organized. Elissa Cousland is coming with a band of five hundred knights in the coming days, but she’s also coming with the refugees in Lothering.”
Murdock cursed as I piled bad news on top of him. So, I gave him instructions. A course to go. “The Crossroads is completely indefensible even if it is an important road. We need to bring them here, base them outside of the stone walls, and start cutting down every tree we see to build a palisade around that refugee camp. Food needs to be put into a communal store, as does liquor. We-” I started, but Fatty scowled at me, his face turning red.
“I won’t be ordered about by an elf!” He snapped at me, puffing out his chest. He was fat, meaning that he ate plenty. Meaning he had money. Nice clothes. Boots were impractical, though. Not the kind of merchant that traveled. Probably owned a general store of some kind or hired other merchants to run his wares. Not the kind of person that saw elves as anything other than servants.
I smiled, “Mudock, would you be so kind as to repeat everything I just said?” I requested and, to my surprise, Murdock opened his mouth to do exactly that. He had a good head on his shoulders. Responsive and quick-to-follow orders that he agreed with.
“You overstep your bounds, elf! Warden or not, I don’t see Bann Teagan giving these orders!” Fatty snapped at me, and he was probably right about that. Which is why I was going to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. Just without the asking for forgiveness part. However, I couldn’t exactly agree with him and I needed to drive my point through that thick skull of his.
I reached to my side and drew Keening Blade, making all four men flinch back, Fatty most of all. I then offered Keening Blade to Fatty hilt first, my smile never wavering. “Do you have a family?” I asked him, and I liked to think I was a bit kinder than I normally was when I asked that question.
Fatty looked at the hilt of the sword, then at Murdock, then at the others, then finally up at me. “I-I do,” he said, his voice with the faintest of quivers. “A boy. Two girls. And a wife,” he added, sounding like things were on the outs with his wife if he had to think about it. I didn’t particularly care, but it would help me make my point.
“I want you to take this sword here, and go to whatever building or tent you happen to live in. Then you should kill your children, and then their mother. Naturally, the same goes to any extended family you might have. Lastly, I want you to fall upon this blade,” I told him, my voice never changing an octave, and the angry red drained away from Fatty’s face. “Because that is the kindest fate you can give them at the rate things are going. Better a swift and gentle death than being ravaged by the darkspawn, innit?”
I gestured for him to take the blade and he just stumbled a step back, waving his hands in surrender. “No? Then shut your fucking mouth and do as I say,” I growled at him, jerking my head for him to hit the road and he did exactly that. Once the fear wore off, I doubt that he would think kindly of me, but he would live. Scum always found a way to live when good men died.
“Not how I would have handled it,” Murdock sighed, watching him go. His gaze flickered back up to me, “But I suppose I can’t argue with the results. What’s your name, Warden?” He asked me as I slid Keening Blade back into its sheath.
“Azoth. Azoth Surana,” I introduced myself, earning a small nod from Murdock as he committed the name to memory.
“Tell me what you have planned,” he decided and I did exactly that.
…
The first thing done was a head count in Redcliff -- the castle had admitted a grand total of three hundred people as guests before the Arl had been poisoned. They were currently still there, under lockdown, in addition to the odd thousand population it maintained between the servants and the guards. Could be less given that all of the knights in the castle had fucked off.
In Redcliff village, there were two thousand refugees in addition to the more traditional thousand villagers. Meaning, in function, we had three thousand heads to work with since the castle was still in lockdown and would be until they found who poisoned the arl. Of those three thousand, about a thousand of them were either children or the elderly, meaning that we had two thousand men or women that were capable of hard labor.
Half of that number would be turned into the militia. Eventually. Right now, my focus was on building the fortifications. Five hundred men and women were sent out into the countryside with the orders to start cutting down trees that could be found on the rolling hills. At the same time, I had markers put up to decide what would be going where. All the while we had people going to the Crossroads and urging people to either come here or to Fort Conner that was in the hills well off the beaten path.
“Warden, you cannot cut down those woods! They belong to the Arl!” A representative for the Arl whinged in my ear, looking up at the hills in horror as trees began to fall when people were done sawing them through. “It is where he hunts-”
“The Arl is welcome to kiss my hairless elven ass,” I interjected, making the man sputter. “If he wants to complain about me cutting down his woods so his people aren’t ravaged by the darkspawn, by all means, send him to me. Until then, I’m taking the silence as permission,” I snapped at the human with greying hair and dark brown eyes. I shouldn’t have said that. I realized as much when his lips puckered and I knew he was going to run off telling whoever would listen.
I swallowed a sigh. “I’m trying to save your lives. Would you please stop being a bunch of pillocks and making it difficult for me?” I asked him with a shake of my head as I threw up my hands, equally exasperated with the man as he was me.
I stood on the stone wall that protected Redcliffe village. It was tall, about as tall as the one around the alienage, and it didn’t show any signs of weakness even if it did show signs of age. Looking over the edge of the village, I saw people were moving about with a sense of urgency. My lie about the darkspawn put people into a tizzy and they were moving with urgency. The lie hurt as much as it helped, though.
People were hoarding their resources. The communal pot of food wasn’t anywhere near as large as it could be. For every day worth of rations that were contributed, three days of food were withheld. It wasn’t something I was used to, or what I expected. In the alienage, the communal pot was as sacred as Andraste herself. If you could contribute to it, you did, because you knew that one day you may be relying on that pot to feed yourself and your children.
Likewise, spirits were eagerly hoarded. And when we came knocking looking for them, they vanished down gullets like fish desperate for water. All so they could get drunk. They didn’t care that people were going to die for their drunkness and their moments of bliss. The selfishness of it was sickening and I was not the only one that thought so.
“We should leave,” Sten growled at me as I neared the bottom of the stairs, flanked by Shale. Sten still stood bare-chested, but he had managed to get his hands on a pair of boots that managed to fit him. Armor was being refitted to fit him by the blacksmith, but it was a side project in comparison to everything else. “These bas are helpless. Aiding them is a waste of time,” he stated his opinion without hesitation.
“Oh, they are helpless,” I agreed, annoyance in my tone. My race was still working against me, Grey Warden or not, but I found having a golem and a large pissed-off Qunari at my sides was every bit as effective as having a human spokesperson. “But it’s not a waste of time.”
“I disagree,” Sten argued the point, turning his head to watch a woman taking a shit in a back alley, and his lips curled with disgust. “Aiding these people are not our mission. It was wise to come here in search of aid, but the noble bas has sent away her armies in a bout of hysteria. Staying is ultimately pointless.”
“I thought the villagers would be the worst of their kind. I was sadly mistaken,” Shale agreed, turning its head at the sound of two people rutting as if the world was about to end.
I swallowed a sigh as I came to a stop in the village square, seeing it completely filled to the brim with people. I saw Leliana speaking to a sister of the Chantry. She found a set of leather armor that was studded with metal, complete with a leather skirt. They were speaking eagerly but quietly, likely about relief efforts and spiritual guidance.
“That’s a small view, Sten,” I told him, earning his attention. “For better or for worse, these morons will decide the outcome of the Civil War and the Blight. People couldn’t care less if some random village gets overrun by darkspawn, but when they hear Redcliffe, a place that didn’t even fall to the Orlesains? That’ll make them panic. Many will take it as a sign to get out of the country and it’ll show the nobles that the South is lost. Ferelden will fall if Redcliffe falls.”
It was on the imperial highway, and it was the only notable fortress that would protect the western parts of the kingdom from the south. It wouldn’t stop all of the darkspawn, but it did mean they wouldn’t get access to the highway that served as an artery for all of Ferelden to the west.
“They will never be an army,” Sten uttered with utter contempt. If it was up to him, I had no doubt in my mind that he’d just leave them all to die. I don’t think it would bother him in the slightest. Shale made an idle sound of agreement, though it sounded like she hated the refugees far less than Sten did.
“I don’t need an army. I need warm bodies to hold the darkspawn in place,” I told him, my voice cold to my own ears. And, as much as I didn’t like it, these were the warm bodies. Redcliffe was too important to fall. The fact that it was on lake Calehad, which led all the way up north, was just another reason.
Sten grunted in response, letting the conversation end. It was good timing too because I caught the gaze of Matthias from across the square, who had been eying Shale with anger. However, when his gaze met mine, I offered a nod.
It was time for a bit of theater.
Matthias approached cautiously, going to wide to avoid Shale, who watched him with interest. Once he was close enough, he looked at me, “Grey Warden, I want to help with the construction efforts.”
“Then join the roster. You look like you have a strong enough back,” I replied, trying to interject some life into the lines. Around us, I saw members of his village. I hadn’t known it at the time, but it seemed that Matthias’ magic was something of an open secret. I’m not sure if it was because they just accepted it, or he fed them some like that his father's freedom had extended to him.
“It's not strength that I offer, Serah. But magic,” Matthias spoke, his voice loud enough to carry, on the verge of shouting. That caught the attention of other people, and I saw Leliana’s head snap over. “I’m a mage. My father was Wilhelm Sulzbacher, a hero of the rebellion, and he passed his magic on to me.” He sounded stiff, his body was tense, and his gaze darted around to everyone that was looking at him.
“Mage!” Some shouted at the top of their lungs, their voice tinged with so much fear, you’d think darkspawn burst from the ground. I whipped my head around at the source to see a young woman who was staring at Matthias with absolute terror. “He’s a mage!”
It wasn’t the first time I had seen this reaction. In Denerim, other apostates had been revealed before. Saw a young man get stomped to death by a mob. I grew up with plenty of reasons to hide my magic. The reaction of the woman spread, people looked at Matthias as if he were a monster greater than the darkspawn and I could see the pain in his eyes. I suppose that he wasn’t used to this kind of reaction -- this rejection.
“Good!” I shouted louder than the immediate rejection of everyone else while Leliana came charging forward with a priest and a templar. “It’s a brave thing you’ve done. I know it couldn’t have been easy, but you’ve done the right thing by coming forward. To. Help. Protect. Redcliffe. Sodding muppets,” I muttered the last bit under my breath as the Chantry arrived, a crowd forming around us.
There was fear in the air. If it wasn’t for Shale and Sten and me, I think they would have mobbed him without a second thought.
“What is the meaning of this? What is going on?” An elderly woman questioned, her face lined with wrinkles but she had smiling lines on her face. She wore the heraldry of a Revered Mother, marking her as the head of this village's chantry. She was flanked by templars and Leliana stood off to the side, giving me a very pointed look. If I had to decipher that look, it would say ‘you’re shite at acting.’
“This man has volunteered to use his magic to protect everyone in Redcliffe by aiding in the construction,” I spoke loudly, making sure everyone heard it. The reaction I got was revulsion. The damn fool would likely let themselves die before they accepted help from a mage. The Revered Mother looked to Matthias.
“I’m not an apostate,” he defended himself, sounding like the wind had been taken from his sails. “King Maric recognized my father.”
“Through no merit of his own,” Shale remarked with a humph, ignoring the sharp look I gave it. “All he did was give me orders. Kill this. Kill that. Pick me up, I’m tired. Though, it wasn’t all bad. I liked killing the Chevaliers. They made such a funny noise when I squished them in their heavy armor,” Shale continued, making the Revered Mother’s eyes just about fall out of her head.
I rolled my eyes to the sky. I was about to start praying to a god or gods if they would help me deal with this. “The point is,” I stressed, “he has offered his abilities to help us. And, Revered Mother, we need the help.” I told her bluntly, the truth was so close to spilling from my lips. That everyone was a bunch of corpses with heartbeats if something wasn’t done. That something needed to be done.
The Revered Mother looked to me as she took a step forward, “I praise your bravery, young man,” she said, turning her attention to Matthais, “but you are a danger to yourself and to everyone else despite your good intentions. For your safety as well as the safety of these fine folk, I suggest you come with me to the Chantry while we send a letter to the Circle, inquiring if you are not an apostate or not.”
I could feel it building inside of me. The raw rage at the awe-inspiring bout of stupidity. “Magic,” I spat the words out, doing my best to keep my tone civil, “exists to serve mankind,” I quoted at her. “I shouldn’t need to quote the words of Andraste to you of all people, Revered Mother. This man seeks to serve. He can’t do that in a cell or in the Circle. He can serve here.” I told her and, despite her words prior, I could see that I was having some level of sway over her.
“Mother Hannah,” Leliana spoke up as the crowd muttered, “I understand your fears. Magic can be dangerous, but it can also be wonderful. Just as fire can give warmth as easily as it can burn. Please, do not turn this man away out of fear of what could happen.” She spoke, her tone sweet and while my point had loosened her up, Leliana pushed her right over, making her resistance crumble.
“I… see your point,” Mother Hannah allowed, and with her voice of agreement, I did see that the crowd was starting to be swayed as well. “On the condition that you are protected by a templar guard.” She said, and how she said it… it sounded like she was trying to protect Matthias from the refugees as much as she was trying to protect them from him.
Matthias stiffened, and I could see that he was digging his heels in, not willing to accept that. So, I interjected, “Alistair, a member of my order, has templar abilities and was trained as one,” I offered and I saw Mother Hannah look to Leliana, who nodded with a sweet smile on her face.
“Very well,” she decided, and that was that. Or, so I thought.
“I would like to volunteer as well,” I heard a woman call out, surprising everyone. I looked over to see it was a human woman, maybe around my age or a year or two older. Shoulder-length black hair, pretty with blue eyes. Her shoulders were squared and she wore an expression of someone whose mind was made up. I saw expressions of pure and utter terror on the three people around her, though -- all of which looked like her.
My gaze flickered to Matthais to see that he was just as stunned as I was, so this wasn’t a planned move on his part. Huh. “Your name?” I asked as the girl pulled away from her family, who were trading glances. An elderly woman, a young man that seemed the girls age, and an older woman that seemed a few years older than her sibling. Short black hair, high cheekbones, strong jawline, and the most piercing blue eyes I had ever seen.
“Bethany Hawke,” Bethany answered, striding towards us. Her expression, while resolute, she seemed afraid. At least until her elder sister stepped forward, standing beside her sister.
“Marian Hawke, at your service,” Marian stated, her tone cocky, as if daring the crowd to try something. Their mother hid her face in her hands while Bethany and Marian joined us. Shale seemed deeply displeased by the idea of more mages and Sten radiated disapproval, but I didn’t care.
“Welcome aboard,” I told them both, glad that the bit of theater managed to draw out more talent. “Don’t expect a thank you from this lot, but you have my gratitude. Whether they want to admit it or not… I expect you’ll be saving a lot of lives in the days to come,” I told them both, making Bethany stand taller.
“Charmer,” Marian remarked, but she seemed pleased all the same.
Arrangements needed to be arranged, but as the Revered Mother walked off to collect Alistair, Leliana leaned in and gave me a wink. “You are a poor actor, Azoth.” She remarked, seeing right through it with a small laugh before she continued on.
She was right about that.
…
The construction resumed and the progress the three mages could make was extraordinary. Well, four, though only a handful knew about me. It wasn’t a secret that was going to stay a secret forever, but for now, I was keeping it under my hat for as long as I could. Revealing it now would work against me. With Matthais, Bethany, and Marian, the fortifications went up with shocking ease. Each one was worth about fifty laborers, I decided, watching the three of them excavate a trench around the palisade, where the dirt would then be stacked behind it to make it stronger.
Archers would be able to fire down from it, and warriors would be able to fight when they got through the moat filled with sharpened sticks.
The area between the gate and the palisade was filled with people. The Crossroads had been moved over to Redcliffe given that it was a completely hopeless position. Another eight hundred people had been in the village meant to house about two hundred at the absolute most. It brought our numbers up to nearly four thousand. And, while the palisade was going up, it came time to divide people up.
A militia was formed with Murdock at the head. Given that it was the south, where knowing how to use a weapon wasn’t just common, it was expected, finding those that could fight wasn’t too much trouble. Convincing them to was probably the hardest part. But, between the increased organization and the threat of darkspawn, there was an increase in volunteers. There was a lopsided number of archers to warriors -- of the four thousand refugees, six hundred joined the militia.
Four hundred were archers of some skill and the rest were warriors that all had their own arms.
The rest of the refugees were put to work -- women and children would weave bandages, while hunters and gatherers found meat or berries. The Crossroads had a herbalist that joined us, and he ended up spending most of his time sorting through what was and wasn’t useful that was brought in for potions and poultices. By the second day after we arrived, Redcliffe felt a little less likely to either violently implode or get overrun by a random band of darkspawn.
The palisade was being built, as well as a ditch in front of it that would be filled with spikes. Caltrops would be sprinkled through the area in front of a line of barricades, all of which were meant to blunten the charge of the darkspawn. The archers and mages would get some volleys off, some warriors would hold the walls, then when things were looking dicey, we could fall back behind the much larger and secure stone wall.
That was the idea, at least. It was going to take days of effort, but it was getting done. And the more the other refugees saw it go up, the more guilt tripped they would be into helping out. If not with construction, then with forging berries and nuts or hunting game or joining the militia.
To that end, I held up a strip of cloth that went three layers deep. "This is what you wear when you're dealing with darkspawn," I told a group of a dozen men and women standing in front of me. "This will save your life. They're going to come charging at you, screaming and hissing, and your blood is going to be up. You'll scream right back at them as you hack 'em to pieces. Killing is messy business. Blood is going to get everywhere but if darkspawn blood gets in your mouth, then you're a dead man walking."
Stepping forward, I began to hand out the rags that they began tying around their faces. "When you feel the final layer get soaked through, take it off. You'll know when it happens because darkspawn blood burns when it touches your skin," I told them. "It'll be hard to breathe, but it means you get to keep breathing." As I handed them out, Murdock began drilling the newest recruits to the militia to get them used to breathing with the masks on.
Leliana approached me, a slight smile on her face, “You are quite good at this,” she remarked as we watched the men and women drill for a moment before I started walking away from them. “Taking command comes naturally to you,” she added, following me back into the village.
“I’m used to it,” I admitted, making her plucked eyebrows rise up.
“May I ask how big your gang is?” She asked me as I inspected the shanty town outside of the village. The area was filled with tents and people that weren’t happy that they weren’t behind the wall. There was a lot of grumbling about moving on, or trying their luck up at Fort Conner. Only it was rather out of the way and rather isolated which is why I didn’t send anyone there.
“You can ask. You won’t get an answer, though,” I told her outright, passing through the shanty town to reenter Redcliffe village. Things were still hustling and bustling -- I saw chantry folk offering prayers and blessings, people moving about, militia patrolling to keep the peace, and so on. In response, Leliana let out a small laugh.
“Keep your secrets,” Leliana said in a teasing tone that sounded painfully familiar. Her hair wasn’t helping there other. It was lighter than Kallian’s mane of red hair but close enough that I could mistake it for the same shade. “In any case, it is lucky for everyone here that you have such experience organizing. I understand the easier thing would have been to walk away, but you stayed and you have done all that you can. The people may not thank you for it or accept that it was you that saved them, so allow me to do so in their place -- thank you for not turning your back on this place.”
I spared her a glance, taken aback a little at the sincere gratitude in her tone. She… thought that I cared about the people here.
I didn’t.
And… it bothered me a little bit. Like I was failing to live up to her expectations in some way, even if I hardly knew her.
“Yeah, well,” I trailed off, looking away from Leliana, earning a warm chuckle at my awkward response. “I’m not doing it for a thank you. But thanks. I think,” I decided, spotting Alistair, who looked like he was doing his best not to listen to a conversation that was going on between the two mages and their mother and sibling. He had spotted us well before that and the look he was giving could best be described as pleading.
Walking over to him, I caught snippets of the conversation between the Hawke family. Bethany was hugging her mother, but Marian was speaking to the only boy in the family. “Kirkwall is a bad place to be a mage, even for nobles. I’m trusting you to take care of mum, alright? Plus, you can finally get to have an adventure without me looking over your shoulder, Carver.”
“I didn’t want it like this, Marian,” Carver sighed, accepting a hug from his older but smaller sister.
I filled the exchange for later, curious about the context there. From the sounds of it, the family would be splitting up. The mother and brother would be going to Kirkwall while Bethany and Marian stayed behind to fight the Blight. Not really any of my business, but the two of them had proven their worth with their magic so it was lucky that they were deciding to stay.
As we neared, Alistair took a step away, giving me a mild look, “I never got a chance to thank you for putting me on guard duty,” he remarked, sounding annoyed.
“Better you than some templar schmuck that I don’t know,” I offered with a shrug.
“Well, Bann Teagan thinks you did it to prevent me from ‘taking my rightful place’ or something. I think he’s planning to yell at you about it at some point, so be prepared for that,” Alistair informed, his nose crinkling in disgust at the idea of being put in charge. Teagan had been rather hands-off with the entire ordeal, his time consumed by investigating who tried to murder his brother. As far as I had heard, his only complaint was that all of this wasn’t being done on Alistiar's orders.
I think he thought that I had usurped Alistair’s position as Warden Commander. Which I kinda did, only Alistair had given the position up very willingly.
“I’ll send Theron to get yelled at instead,” I decided with exactly zero shame, much to the human's amusement. “Speaking of which, where is he?”
To that, Alistair cast me a glance, “He’s teaching archery. Uh, elf only lessons, so that’s all I know.” I had to suppress a smirk at that. There were plenty of elven refugees, about two hundred or so. They hadn’t joined the militia, so Theron took it upon himself to start teaching them apparently. Good on him.
I opened my mouth to respond, only to catch a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. Looking over, I saw a black raven flying right towards us, black smoke emerging from it as the raven transformed back into Morrigan, and she sent the entire village into a tizzy. I saw a woman faint outright while Bethany gasped. A remark that she shouldn’t have put on a show for everyone was on my lips but it never left them when I saw Morrigan’s expression.
She had been out scouting the surrounding area, looking for signs of Elissa and her army. We sent a missive to Lothering, telling her about the situation in Redcliffe, but we hadn’t heard anything back yet. Which wasn’t odd at all, but given Morrigan’s pale skin and her slightly harsh breathing, I think I should have been very worried.
“How bad is it?” I asked, knowing that I was about to be delivered some terrible news.
Morrigan took a moment to compose herself, clearly having flown here as fast as she possibly could, “T’would depend, I suppose,” she started, her tone aloof, “How bad would it be that there seems to be a horde of darkspawn eight thousand strong marching directly here?” She asked, making it sound like it was no issue of her own.
I took a deep breath while Alistair cursed and Leliana gasped, the news was a slap in the face.
“Well…,” I muttered to the sky above, letting out the deep breath. “Shite. That’s not good at all.”
...
So, I have a small confession to make. I wrote most of From the Ashes in about three weeks about a year ago now. I just churned out about 200k words -- no editing, no bouncing around ideas with my editors, just a straight stream of consciousness that I poured out on the page. And, because of that, I wrote some things that I usually never would have gone with and some ideas that I would have thought better of if I gave it a sit down to think about it.
The times I missed an update for From the Ashes is usually when I'm editing chapters to make them comprehensible or retconning plot elements that I now don't find particularly compelling. But, editing chapters is far more difficult that writing them and I do think I'm reaching the edge of what I can do with patchwork edits.
So, instead, I've come to an executive decision -- From the Ashes has reached a stopping point and an end of an arc, so it wouldn't be too intrusive to put the story on hold for a bit. Thursday was always the temporary/experiment slot in my rotation, and I will be rolling in a new story -- The Good Life -- for Thursday for until The Good Life reaches a natural stopping point. That should give me enough time to fix the issues that I have with From the Ashes -- stuff like balancing the magic, retconning some events where I feel I strayed into grimderp rather than grimdark, etc. Because there are a lot of little things that I wouldn't have gone with if I gave myself the time to think about them and, as the Blight arc continues, they're building up to something that's unmanageable and... well... bad writing.
Sorry for those that this will disappoint, but I feel like it's better than missing updates because this way you still get something to read and From the Ashes shouldn't be on ice for too long.
Comments
Thomas
What is The Good Life? Is it one of the stories in your snippet thread?
Nyx
But of course do what you have to, I would rather a good story you enjoy writing then one where you get stuck in a corner and stop writing.
