MOD PLOT ↠ A THOUSAND WRONGS

[faderifting]

WHO: Everyone!
WHAT: Assisting with the aftermath of occupation
WHEN: August through Kingsway
WHERE: Field of Ghislain
NOTES: OOC post. Please use appropriate content warnings in your comment subject lines as needed.

The Fields of Ghislain are, as the name suggests, broad open plains, more flat than not, more grass than trees. There are famous orchards around Arlesans at the southern end, but they fade into grassland and farm land, wide fields of wheat and corn separating quiet farming villages and the occasional bustling market town, the even more occasional country estate.

High summer here has always meant long hot days, dusty roads, and preparations for the harvest. Now it also means recovery from the sudden end to the area's year-and-a-half of occupation by the forces of Corypheus. On first glance, the area appears to have escaped relatively unscathed. There are a few burnt villages here and there, a few new rifts, and the scarred valley where the Battle of Ghislain took place, but there are also crops growing strong in the fields and markets open for business, people going about their lives.

On closer inspection, there's more work to be done. The immediate threats are obvious: an unusual number of rifts and the general thinning of the Veil they signal, small bands of enemies—including bands of darkspawn with red lyrium growths—still marauding through the region, isolated patches of red lyrium to be destroyed and Blight to be contained.

Most places have at least one building that's been destroyed by fire or force, some practically essential—a grain store, an infirmary, a watch tower—some invaluable in other ways—a chantry, a mayor's office, a monument to heroic ancestors. Some places showed more resistance than others, and there whole neighborhoods or even entire villages have been gutted by fire and the ruins shoved over like block towers. Some survivors fled and now return to pick through the debris, while others remained, living in shanties in the ashes waiting for a chance to rebuild. Despite the crops ripening in the fields there are signs of malnutrition in many places as well, stories of crops confiscated to feed the invading troops and only meager rations returned, worse off even than those affected by shortages elsewhere in Orlais.

And it's not just the material that the enemy has taken or destroyed. Every decent-sized village has its missing, people who were arrested and taken away in wagons or simply vanished one day out of the blue. Where there was resistance there were executions to discourage it, and while the inhabitants have already taken down and buried the displayed bodies, there are a few places where there is no one left to do so, or where magic placed remains out of reach but always in sight.

There are opportunities too: the enemy lived and worked here for 18 months. They did their best to cover their tracks when they left, but it was a hasty and unexpected withdrawal, and there is a wealth of information to collect and work through. There are houses they occupied that haven't been entirely cleaned out, papers only half-burned in an abandoned office, a storeroom in an outpost basement they forgot to empty. And there are the people who have been forced to live and work alongside them all this time to be spoken with, the names they've learned and the conversations they've overheard, the training exercises held on their village greens, all to be teased out and taken down.

One abandoned operation commands particular attention: the site that Riftwatch—then the Inquisition—observed on the eve of the Battle might be a shrine to the Old God Dumat. At the time this was a newly-discovered ruin and little could be discerned for certain, but during their occupation the Venatori have undertaken massive excavations. They've uncovered not just a shrine but a significant temple complex, much of it underground. Exploration of the lowest levels will be handled by a particular team, but there is more to see and do besides. The warren of ruins and the remains of the camp outside them must be searched for clues as to the Venatori's purpose here, and a preliminary study made of the site's contents. There are also the slaves who did the back-breaking labor of digging out the complex and now need assistance. Many are locals, who simply need a ride back to their homes. Others the Venatori brought with them from Tevinter, and they will need to be interviewed and local communities persuaded to take them in.

It is an unimaginable amount of work, but Riftwatch isn't doing it alone. The Inquisition still has a large number of noncombatants, many of whom have been sent to help with outreach and rebuilding in particular. The Exalted March, too, has plenty of volunteers that aren't exactly fit for the front lines. There is enough ground to cover for everyone, but there will be times when Riftwatch agents will be working with—or at least alongside—those from the Inquisition and the Exalted March, and orders are clear that they are to maintain good working relations and not start any trouble.

In between all of this there will be long rides by horse or cart from this village to that one over dirt tracks with cicadas buzzing in the sun, sweltering afternoons broken up by sudden, drenching thunderstorms, warm evenings playing pétanque on the green with the locals over a pint of cider. There will be as many wary as grateful, but hopefully by the end of the summer Riftwatch can tip that balance a little bit.

Comments

[esquive]

[In the shadow of his hat, Marcoulf's mouth goes briefly thinner and more crooked. It's a beat in which he is checking himself, so that when he speaks there is some patience and sensibility in it.

(Honestly; must he do all things himself?)]

It is your obligation to leverage the rank as you please; if you allow him to put no stock in it, then I have no doubt the Comte will be most happy to oblige you. But it is yours, and the gentleman has sworn some oath to Riftwatch, and so is likely to abide by what seniority is granted you by merit of retaining whatever use he derives from supporting us at present. He would not agree for no reason at all. There is something Riftwatch affords him, and so it is your duty to demand he pay for it.

[hornswoggle]

[ There is a pause in which John shifts in the saddle to look at Marcoulf's face, studying him as he speaks. ]

You aren't much for light conversation, are you?

[ Though it is a fair assessment, even if John sees very little to distinguish the two of them. Suppose they claimed Marcoulf was the more highly ranked between the two of them? Who would know?

After the fourth time the Comte inquires after the health of his sister and her three dogs, John will wish he'd saddled Marcoulf with the task of leading conversation. ]

[esquive]

[Marcoulf looks right back at him, his right hand yet draped across the saddle's pommel and the other loose about the horse's reins. His focus is flat, drawn purposefully broad and unspecific by habit or practice or both.]

It would depend on the subject.

[hornswoggle]

Humor me. [ John says this to the tone of someone who knows he's on the cusp of a denial and prepared to proceed anyway. ] What subjects do you favor?

[ The minutiae of Orlesian society apparently nonwithstanding. That seems less of an interest and more of something inescapably noted. If Marcoulf seemed more favorably inclined, John might ask, but as it stand they're both better off i he keeps his prying to whether or not he out to bow when the Comte enters a room. ]

And if we were to find the Comte so interested in similar things, more the better for us.

[esquive]

[Marcoulf's heels must find his mare's sides, for she sullenly lengthens her stride by some marginal degree as her master's mouth grows thinner and frowns further. But she cannot be compelled to go much faster, and eventually he selects to say simply,]

Horses and swordmanship. Infantry. Tournaments. The Ferelden-Orlesian trade routes. How best to mind one's own affairs.

[hornswoggle]

Is that last one a hint?

[ John sounds as if he's delighted by it either way.

Of course, he can't speak at length about any of these topics. It's not out of the question that he could attempt and maybe manage, but the more interesting topic is Marcoulf's quiet judgement. Where he urges his mare forward, John maintains pace.

If he isn't overeager to wrangle the Comte, that's neither here nor there. Nothing Marcoulf has said thus far has contradicted John's sense that it's going to be tedious and drawn out. (Technically it will be both, just in a different way than John expects.) ]

[esquive]

[He slants a long suffering look in John's direction.]

It is a habit.