MOD PLOT ↠ ALL SOULS WHO TAKE UP THE SWORD

[faderifting]

WHO: Nearly everyone
WHAT: Retaking Val Chevin
WHEN: Late Firstfall into early/mid-Haring, 9:47
WHERE: Val Chevin, Orlais
NOTES: Generated injuries here! CWs for violence, slavery mentions. Use content warnings in your comment subject lines as needed.

THE BATTLE

The battle begins just after dawn, once the distraction at the harbor has drawn as much of the enemy force to that end of the city as possible. Bombardment (magical or otherwise) is fruitless while the elvhen shield artifact continues to magically reinforce the walls and gates, but a Riftwatch team is on its way and will soon have disabled it. In the meantime, while the enemy's attention is focused on the harbor the assault begins. The first waves of soldiers are sent up ladders to try to fight their way over. Some make it, and fight their way along the battlements to try to reach the gate below, in hopes of unbarring it from within even before the shield is broken. The attacking force very nearly manages a lightning-quick victory, numbers pouring over a section of the wall left unmanned by the harbor distraction. They might have managed it when, suddenly, a rush of magic descends down onto the walls, physically, enough to blow their hair back and everything, and a glowing dome spreads over the city—essentially an enormous magical barrier.

Those at the tops of ladders suddenly find their blows absorbed by the magic rather than landing on the overwhelmed guards along the wall, while the defenders' blades still pierce through from within. The tide quickly begins to turn in favor of the Tevinter defenders. Some of the attackers are caught already within the walls when the barrier drops, and without more following behind them are quickly outnumbered, either killed or forced to flee deeper into the city to try to avoid capture. There is traffic jam at the top of the wall as forward progress abruptly halts, and at least one ladder accidentally falls in the resulting confusion, taking a dozen or so attackers with it. Attacks from the walls above now rain down with impunity as the attackers attempt to force their way through the barrier, reasoning that all barriers break eventually and it's just a matter of applying enough force. For a short period that feels longer, the battle stagnates, all the damage being taken by the allied forces, the Tevinters on the wall able to regroup and reinforce their ranks.

It takes longer than anyone had planned but finally the Riftwatch team inside the city is successful and the barrier dome dissipates as abruptly as it had appeared. A cheer goes up, flagging morale restored, and the assault takes on renewed intensity. Without their magical protection the gate is no longer unbreachable. Rams are aimed at it and magical force as well, protected by archers and more mages, with assistance from some griffon riders above. The enemy throws down scalding stones, oil, even Antivan fire, but their force is stretched thinner and thinner, and more and more attackers make it over the walls to harry them back. Finally the gate splinters, and the armies of Orlais and the Divine stream into Val Chevin.

The Tevinter and Ander forces don't give in that easily. They make a stand in the central square of the city, fighting on the steps of the Chantry and the lip of the great fountain itself with its four leaping seahorses. They retreat through the streets, broken up into smaller groups, some barricading themselves inside a building, others seeking to hide in a home, more running, or looking for chokepoints they can defend, mages tearing stones out of walls to block pursuit. Some of the people of Val Chevin, sensing an end to the occupation at last, join the fight, driving soldiers out of their homes and shops with pitchforks and butcher's knives, raining trash and debris down on them from windows, calling out warnings and directions to friendly forces, offering water or aid where they can.

By mid-afternoon, it's over. Some of the occupying force have managed to flee into the countryside or into one of the few ships remaining intact in the harbor. Many more are dead. The remainder, perhaps as many as a thousand, are gradually cornered at various places around the city and give themselves up. Not all surrenders are honored--some, particularly Orlesians and locals caught up in the fighting, are eager to dispatch the enemy occupiers once and for all and unless someone intervenes may ignore the laying down of arms. Stragglers still attempting to hide or escape are rounded up throughout the day (some even later), tracked down by searchers or turned in by locals.

THE "SAFE AND SECURE" SHIP

Anchored at what is believed to be a safe distance just up the coast to the northeast of the city, Riftwatch's shipboard base of operations provides a landing and launch area for griffons, triage for wounded, and on large tables and boards a collection of detailed maps of the area and of the city and its various districts on which action is tracked as crystal reports come in. Some are assigned to shifts manning the crystals: taking in reports, asking questions, soliciting aid, sending griffon riders where they're most needed. Others analyze the information provided, plot it on the maps, or coordinate with allied movements. Supplies are doled out from the ship as well, from spare weapons and armor to food and water, grenades, lyrium potions, healing poultices. Though the breeze only intermittently carries the sounds of battle out here, the ship is still a buzz with activity throughout the day.

Disaster doesn't strike until the afternoon, when a group of Tevinters fleeing the city manage to commandeer one of the remaining mostly-intact ships and somehow make it out of the harbor despite not entirely knowing how to sail. They straggle out into the bay, catch the wrong current, and are suddenly on top of the Riftwatch ship. Though smaller and already beginning to sink, the Tevinter vessel manages to tangle itself with Riftwatch's anchor cable, and the couple of mages on board make a doomed attempt to trade up for the bigger, more seaworthy model. They fail, but not before managing to do some serious damage to Riftwatch's ship, sufficient to sink it as well.

A hasty evacuation follows by griffon and longboat. The ship sinks rapidly, leaving just barely enough time to get all the wounded ferried to shore and still come back for the healthy before they go down with the ship.

THE AFTERMATH

IMMEDIATE NEEDS

First things first: the wounded from the battle need to be attended to, including not only those from Riftwatch's ranks, but also members of the Orlesian military, local civilians, and Tevinter and Ander prisoners—though opinions vary about whether or not to provide them with any assistance. The Orlesian military has supplies and surgeons, and Riftwatch will be welcome to either seek care or help provide it in medical tents that are set up on the outskirts of the city even before the fighting has fully concluded. During this first evening, this area is not a peaceful place to be, filled with shouts and moans and blood-spattered people darting between emergencies. Even with Riftwatch's help (and magic), resources are stretched thin enough by severe injuries that those who look like they're going to survive without help might be turned away to deal with their pain and cosmetic concerns the old fashioned ways: finding elfroot sprouting up between the cobblestones to chew on, or gritting their teeth and getting over it.

Throughout the night, paranoia persists about the possibility that belated reinforcements—or, worse, a dragon—might arrive to prolong the battle. Soldiers keep watch along the walls and at some forward locations, and Riftwatch's griffon riders are sent to observe the portions of the occupying force that fled north and ensure there's nothing amiss. Nothing seems to be, but continuing to lightly harass the Tevinter and Ander forces to hurry them on their way and keep them from pausing to ransack anything won't hurt.

In the morning, back in Val Chevin, those who look strong and uninjured are enlisted to help with clearing debris from the places where the fighting was heavy and magical enough to collapse walls and roofs or topple statues, or else loading bodies onto carts bound for the pyres outside the city. By mid-morning plumes of smoke streak the sky. The bulk of the damage and death is concentrated on the docks, where the dreadnought crashed and where the initial smash-and-burn fighting took place. Meanwhile, throughout the harbor, griffons will prove useful in examining the water for concentrations of floating bodies—which need to be fished out to avoid a walking dead problem in the future—or debris that's potentially either useful or dangerous. Given what the dreadnought assault team reports, there's also a careful search for any red lyrium-infested sea creatures in the harbor, but while other pens like the one that contained the very large red lyrium octopus they encountered, all have been destroyed in the chaos and no other beasts are spotted.

TAKING STOCK

Over the course of the week, supplies arrive by land and by sea from across Orlais—some from the government, some from charitable patriots who put together donation drives as soon as they heard the news. About eighty percent are practical and useful: winter shoes and clothing, flour and preserves and other long-lasting foods, bolts of fabric, apothecary supplies, a few dairy animals and chickens. The usefulness of the rest varies, including a crate of used toys (labeled FOR THE SWEET PEASANT CHILDREN), an assortment of expensive hats that were in season last winter, and collections of plain masks and face paints in case Tevinter was cruelly forcing anyone to go barefaced. Riftwatch is given leave to distribute these to people as they find needs to meet.

The surviving Orlesian civilians who have been trapped in the occupied city for the last two and a half years haven't been as starved or brutalized as popular imagination may have assumed, but the experience has been plenty miserable. Outside of a few public executions, agitators and those who fomented rebellion against the occupiers have by and large disappeared more quietly. Due to its collective general experience with the Tevinter language and magic, Riftwatch is given the fairly depressing task of sorting through the cells and torture chambers in Val Chevin's central keep, where records and other evidence of executions remain. It's enough to determine who died and how. Some had quick deaths; others were tortured or used for blood magic rituals. A handful appear to have been removed from the city and sent north to be held in Tevinter instead. Relaying the specifics to family members will generally be the responsibility of Orlesian officials, but family members eager for information may corner Riftwatchers coming or going from the fortress to press them for details.

Over the next couple weeks Riftwatch is also called to assist with handling other remnants of the Tevinter occupation, such as translating documents, evaluating evidence of blood magic, and sorting through relics and enchanted objects accumulated by the Venatori. Among the things left behind is a trove of elven artifacts seemingly extracted from nearby temples. None are as powerful as the shield; most seem to be completely unmagical cultural relics.

Elsewhere, many locals were evicted from their homes to make room for Tevinter occupiers. While Orlesian officials sort through claims to those homes, including several contentious competing claims, Riftwatch is sent into them to sort through what the enemy left behind and make sure they're safe for their occupants to return to. In many they find the ashy remains of hastily burned private documents and a variety of fairly mundane magical objects: spoons that stir themselves, hats that are always cool on the inside, candles that light and extinguish in response to clapping.Each is the work of a bound spirit that can be released or destroyed—or left to continue its eternal work, if someone wants to pocket an object rather than restore it to its original inanimate state. Throughout the city, there may also be opportunities to reunite grateful civilians with appropriated belongings ranging from fine art to beloved old horses.

Orlesians aren't the only ones in the city in need of assistance. A small number of Tevinter slaves—exclusively those performing menial tasks, as far as anyone can tell—remain in the city now that their masters have been killed or captured. With the Orlesian populace and military inclined, on average, to consider them threats and collaborators, Riftwatch's intervention on their behalf is necessary. Interviewing them and checking their stories against witness accounts and Tevinter records, to ensure none of them are Venatori mages or gleeful torturers in disguise, will allow Riftwatch to vouch for them confidently. They may also be able to find sympathetic locals willing to shelter and hire those who would like to remain in the city, though there aren't that many who do want to stay.

Throughout their time in the city, Riftwatch representatives are asked to report what they find regarding the treatment of the locals and any practice of blood magic. While Orlesian officers ask for Riftwatch members to give this information to them directly, it's quickly clear that it's likely to influence Orlais' decisions about how to deal with the thousand-odd Tevinter prisoners. Individuals identified as responsible for atrocities are being tortured or executed, especially if they're unlikely to have or provide information, and there is nothing ensuring the entire group won't be ultimately executed after the dust settles. With that in mind, Riftwatch receives instructions from the Division Heads to instead bring the information to them so it can be compiled, double-checked, screened for any individuals Riftwatch may need to question themselves, and delivered with a diplomatic touch.

GOING HOME (OR NOT)

Approximately a week after the battle, as the majority of Riftwatch is preparing to leave, Empress Celene and members of her retinue arrive in Val Chevin. They're greeted by a restrained military parade and less restrained enthusiasm from the civilians, who will line the streets to catch a glimpse and celebrate the symbolic return of the city to full Orlesian control. Riftwatch's attendance is not mandatory. Most of the organization leaves that day to return to Kirkwall and their other work. However, a small number remain behind for a few more days, overseen by the heads of Diplomacy and Forces, to provide administrative support while the Ambassador and Commander liaise with the Empress' people about their plans for the Tevinter prisoners. As thanks, they might be invited to endure a few stifling fancy dinners.

Comments

snails in a week late with starbucks

[acreage]

"I don't know what the point was," he murmurs as they walk down the roads of the city, "of taking this stuff."

This stuff being items along the lines of a toy sailboat, a few stuffed dolls, and a small collection of jewelry whose value is clearly more sentimental than monetary. Jim carries the bag, currently, one of a few they'd been given with directions for where they may have luck finding the respective original owners.

[icasm]

"The point is often suffering, and I imagine for the Venatori that isn't much changed. Causing it, harvesting it, making it for others, and being gleeful about it as you do so."

Loki shrugs one shoulder as they walk. He understands, and would possibly rather that he didn't, at this moment. He suspects that for someone like James Holden that's harder to wrap one's head around.

"Likely someone cried, and someone else got very excited at the prospect of creating tears in someone else." Possibly sexually, is the implication there.

[acreage]

"And they wonder why everyone hates them," he deadpans.

It makes sense, when he thinks about it, that Loki would be able to understand. Too easy to forget Tony's warnings whenever he's around the man. He glances back towards the items he's carrying, breathes out. The mundanity of abject cruelty is something he's had the chance to observe time and again over the last few years, and

it'd be a lie to say it hits the same every time. What a shitty thing to get used to seeing.

[icasm]

"Only the ones who have convinced themselves that they are undeserving of other's ire," Loki points out, raising an eyebrow. "They're in a specific sort of denial about the kind of people they are."

He puffs up his cheeks full of air and lets them out, loudly. It's been a strange time here in Val Chevin. His body hurts in ways that are wholly unfamiliar from a simple day's worth of frontline fighting and the whole thing reminds him of New York in ways that are uncomfortable. Guilt, there's a lot of guilt at work.

He's just not used to it.

[acreage]

"I know the type."

— might be a bit unexpected coming from him, considering the James Holden of it all, but isn't untrue. He remembers Dresden, pontificating about how the lives of a hundred thousand Belters was a worthy sacrifice for humanity's ascension; Jules-Pierre Mao, claiming his experimentation on children would save them from the thing on Venus; Murtry, sneering, civilization has a lag time... like light delay. Why would these people be any different?

He's tired. Weary, in a soul-deep way; exhausted, in a bone-deep way. His bandaged foot is likely to punish him sooner or later for taking up this job, but there's too much to do for him to worry about that now.

Loki doesn't look any better, honestly. So he asks, "How are you doing?" and it's with sincere concern.

[icasm]

Loki makes a half-smirk, one side of his lips raised upwards. "The sort of people who either throw an excellent shindig or make you want a bath after every conversation with them. Sometimes, both!" Like the party favor no one wanted.

He's trying to inject some levity into the whole thing, so Holden's query of whether or not Loki is alright almost gets waved off. Something complicated happens with Loki's expression instead. His problems all feel rather small in comparison; no one has to help him through this issue of having a less sturdy body and a more robust conscience.

"Mortality is difficult." Just. Putting that out there. "Suffering, on an individual level, is difficult too."

[acreage]

He's not sure if he expected an answer, actually. They aren't friends. Loki knows he's friendly with Tony. Holden's offered help now and again, but that's just been a matter of common decency, what he'd do for any newer rifter around here. And maybe he does use the mug Loki got him that one time, but. It's a perfectly good mug.

Loki does answer, though, and that means Holden listens, takes this conversation seriously.

"Well, you're right about that." Both things. He weighs, briefly, a slightly glib answer. Instead, he offers, "The adjustment can't be easy."

Mortality. Experiencing suffering like this, first- and second-hand.

[icasm]

They aren't friends. Holden is close with Stark. But he's been... polite? Kind? Understanding, perhaps, is the best word, towards Loki and Loki has had such relatively few interactions of that sort over even just recent history from people who know he's dangerous that he can't dismiss it. Or Holden's question.

Besides doesn't being something other than a liesmith include being honest about how you're feeling? Or something?

Loki tilts his chin upwards, swallows, nods. Can't have the universe thinking it's got him down, after all.

"Are all of the front line battles like this afterward?" He doesn't exactly think their side is losing the war but there are clear victories and there is... this.

[acreage]

He breathes out at the question, eyebrows pulling together.

"I don't know if all battles are anything," he muses.

He knows more of ship to ship combat among the stars than warfare like this, and there are most definitely people in Riftwatch who have seen more of the front lines here than he has. But he's been asked, and he'll do his best to answer. Like this is a vague question, but he thinks he gets what he's being asked.

"I've found that wins and losses are more arbitrary than you'd think. They have more to do with who's still standing and what the talking heads say than what happens in places like this. There's always death. Always suffering. Usually on both sides, and rarely confined to combatants. In Starkhaven, right now, surviving under siege is the victory. Here, today, it's kicking out the Tevene army. There's more of them than there are us, and they have a dragon and a darkspawn god-emperor behind them. Every piece of traction we get is worth something. Every kilometer that stays free."

[icasm]

Like this encompasses so many things. A bloodbath, involving entirely too many civilians, for one thing. Tense, afterward, despite the fact that the enemy has been forced out of the city. Complicated, complex, with no clear line between losers and winners once they're on the ground.

Are they always a mess of suffering and pain? He supposes they must be, but the skirmishes he'd been involved with over the years usually included Thor and the Warriors Three and did not involve sticking around for the aftermath. Dealing with the people who had been caught in the turmoil of the conflict to begin with.

It's very different. And he hurts all over, which is not improving his view of the entire situation, honestly.

So Loki nods along as Holden speaks, green eyes focused on the other man's face. "What do you think winning this war looks like? The death of Corypheus?" Will that be enough?

[acreage]

He laughs, but not unkindly. Not bitter. Humorless, though.

"That's part of it." It'd be nice if it were that easy. "There'd need to be a sea change in Tevinter, especially at the top. Agree to withdraw to their borders, stop invading other sovereignties. There'll be questions about reparations, prisoners of war. Cleaning up what's been done with darkspawn and the Blight. Their red lyrium laboratories and whatever the hell else they're doing over there. The anchor-bearers they probably have will be an issue for Riftwatch. Negotiations for peaceful trade agreements.

And none of that's considering the Chantry, including the fact that they'll want to round us and the mages up, likely as soon as there's an armistice."

So. It's not going to be easy, even after Corypheus is gone.

[icasm]

"So more diplomacy, and more opportunities for conflict to break out after the war is over." Loki sighs, bringing up a hand and pinching at the bridge of his nose. "The strife between mages and the Chantry plus templars in regards to the rights of the former is something that needs to be addressed before they can just determine all of us Rifters are just to be herded around like their wayward magic users." He drops his hand, tilts his face towards the sky. "Not that it will necessarily happen that way."

Necessarily. Probably. Tomato, toh-mah-toh.

"What will you do, if the Chantry attempts to round us all up?" It wouldn't be too hard; barring the few Loki presumes are out in the world free and on their own, the concentration of Rifters is probably in Riftwatch, not counting whatever numbers the Tevinter forces have of their own.

[acreage]

"That's always how it goes. Wars rarely end cleanly, or all at once. And the diplomatic clusterfuck can go on for years — even hundreds of them."

Earth and Mars had been in a cold war for more than a century before real hostilities broke out. It doesn't matter, in some ways, how much Jules-Pierre Mao — and how much he — was the spark. The kindling had been in place since Mars was still a colony.

Credit where it's due: it's easy to imagine how an alien used to sweeping in with armies and a lot of power has little notion of the aftermath of conflicts. The deaths, the cleanup, the diplomacy. But Loki's listening, and he's grasping the enormity of it all. That's worth something.

He makes a soft sound of agreement to the assessment of what the Chantry should do. And to the conclusion that they're not too likely to.

"I'll fight."

The answer comes easily. He's had a few conversations about it over the last year or so, had plenty of time to make this decision. But, in truth, he'd made the choice right away. Circumstances just hammered home for him that there isn't anything else he can do, and live with.

"For us and for the mages. No has the right to decide if someone gets to exist or not. No one gets to decide anyone else's personhood. Whether they're allowed to live free or not. That's not up to the Chantry. If it means fighting another war, or dying so someone else has the chance at a real life, so be it."

He sounds so steady, even as he's exhausted, at the thought. A bedrock of conviction: he can't stand by and let a return to Circles happen. He can't try running, and still live with himself. After a beat, though, he adds in a lighter tone,

"Though I'm hoping diplomacy means it doesn't have to come to that."

[icasm]

That's how it always goes Holden says and Loki... partially hates, partially accepts, that he didn't actually know that, not really knew it, from hands on experience. He knows what happens when a nation, a people, are made to be allied with a different people that have overtaken them in a war, but that's. Well. It's different. For one thing those annexed people always existed somewhere else, and for another, he's never been a part of the losing side. Never had to negotiate how to live on a planet with someone he's gone to war with.

It sounds, frankly, exhausting and messy. Why do they do this in the first place?

(He knows why; power. He isn't going to ask aloud.)

"I am also hoping, but." Well. If they're depending on people like Byerly, who, as far as Loki can tell, has no love lost for mages in general, it'll be a hard sell. Dipolmatically. And since mages can't own land or inherit titles outside of Tevinter, there's not going to be a lot of people higher up the concatenation of power to speak for mages or Rifters.

So Loki doesn't really imagine that diplomacy will save them. Not without a fight, anyway.

"I suspect there are many who would prefer you not die to secure their rights to freedom, as heroic as your intentions may be." A beat. "Myself included."

[acreage]

But: yeah. The odds don't seem great for that. And this is the Chantry, a juggernaut of religious power in this world. They won't just change their minds, and they have an army at their back. It's going to be ugly.

The last part catches him off-guard, though, and he looks over at Loki quizzically. He hadn't really expected Loki to zero in on that, let alone answer in this way.

"I didn't know you cared."

Dry, yeah, but also a genuine sentiment.

[icasm]

"You were in a very well-placed position not to offer me any politeness or information when I arrived. I'm aware you're close to Provost Stark, and I know good and well what he would have told anyone who'd have listened to me."

Holden looks at him and Loki holds his gaze. He's tired, first and foremost. He'd like his past to stop chasing him into Thedas, but he knows if he really wanted to be remembered better he should have acted better. Too little, too late.

"Worst yet, it probably would have been the truth. But you've been kind, and polite, and have informed me of things that would affect me that I otherwise may never have properly known."

He'd rather you weren't dead. Not because Loki considers Holden a friend, exactly, but because he recognizes that the world needs more men like him.

[acreage]

He listens quietly, does Loki the service of hearing him out. Much as he wants to protest: it's basic human decency. Anyone might have done these things for Loki; he just happened to be the one in a position to help. There's nothing special about it.

Instead, he sighs, and says, "Everyone deserves the chance to do better, if they want it." He shrugs. "I won't say coming here is a clean slate. It's not. But if you want to put the past behind you, and if you want to do good, that means something. You should get to try. If I treat you differently from anyone else, especially when it comes to intel that you need to survive Thedas, then I'm taking that chance from you. I won't do that."

[icasm]

Loki would argue that basic human decency is a lot like common sense— wholly uncommon when one gets right down to it. Still. He listens to Holden's explaination of his behavior and tries not to smile.

It's more difficult than he would have expected.

"Your sense of fairness is..." Loki tilts his head a little. "Exceptional, Captain Holden."

puts a bow on this, y/n?

[acreage]

"Pain in the ass is the usual adjective," he says, with a smile of his own.