Новости по DA:I

[Резчица 19 045]

Здесь будут публиковаться только новости о ДА 3 и ссылки на них. Обсуждать нельзя. Новости обсуждаются в Таверне Покусанный Инквизитор.

Если берете перевод, а не оригинал, то указываете откуда. Не ссылкой, а текстом!
На оригинал - давайте, пожалуйста, ссылку, так мы сможем постить ваши новости на сайт.

Берите, пожалуйста, новости, из оригинальных источников. Например, можно почитать

ДА 4 будет но не скоро.

твиттер-аккаунты всех, кто так или иначе занят в производстве DAI

 

Mark Darrah - DA series Executive Producer --> Dragon Age, исполнительный продюсер, Марк Дарра

Mike Laidlaw - DA series Creative Director --> Dragon Age, креативный директор, Майк Лэйдлоу

Aaryn Flynn - Bioware Edmonton and Montreal studios General Manager --> директор студий BioWare в Эдмонтоне и Монреале, Аарин Флинн

Jonathan Perry - Bioware Cinematic Lead --> режиссер анимации, Джонатан Перри

John Epler - cinematic design, forum regular --> дизайнер анимации, завсегдатай социалки, Джон Эпплер

Allan Schumacher - Bioware QA analyst, BSN fan-wrangler --> анализатор вопросов и ответов, ковбой Социальной Сети BioWare, Аллан Шумахер

Mary Kirby - Writer --> сценарист, Мэри Керби

Sylvia Feketekuty - Writer --> сценарист, Сильвия ... О_о

Tonia Laird - Writer --> сценарист, Тоня Лерд

Sheryl Chee - Writer --> сценарист, Шерил Чи

Patrick Weekes - Writer, scientist salarian --> сценарист, саларианский ученый, Патрик Уикс

Ben Gelinas - Editor, co-author of The World of Thedas Vol. 1 --> редактор, соавтор 1 тома «Мира Тедаса», Бен Гелина

Caroline Livingstone - Bioware Director of Voice Acting, producer --> продюсер, режиссер озвучания, Кэролайн Ливингстоун

Alistair McNally - Senior Director of Creative Development --> директор по творческому развития (по рекламе, в общем) Алистер МакНелли

Fernando Melo - Director of Online Development for DA/ME --> онлайн продюсер ДА и МЕ, Фернандо Мело

Christina McSherry - Associate Producer, produces Dragon Age Keep --> директор Dragon Age Keep, Кристина МакШерри

Scylla Costa - Producer --> продюсер, Сцилла Коста

Liz Lehtonen - Producer --> продюсер, Лиз Лехтонен

Cameron Lee - Producer, combat team (?) --> продюсер, разработчик боевой системы, Кэмерон Ли

Alain Baxter - Producer --> продюсер, Алан Бакстер

Colleen Perman - Development Manager --> менеджер по развитию, Колин Перман

Jason Barlow - Bioware Project Manager --> руководитель проекта, Джейсон Барлоу

Sebastian Hanlon - gameplay designer --> дизайнер геймплея, Себастьян Хэнлон

Michael Liaw - gameplay designer --> дизайнер геймплея Майкл Лью

Jos Hendriks - designer --> дизайнер, Джос Хендрикс

Tyler Lee - user interface lead --> разработчик интерфейса, Тайлер Ли

Kyle Scott - producer --> продюсер, Кайл Скотт

Nick Sadler - envirommental artist --> художник уличных локаций (!!!) кто найдет перевод, тому пирожок) Ник Сэдлер

Nick Thornborrow - concept artist --> художник концептов, Ник Торнборроу

Barbara Klimek - QA analyst --> анализатор вопросов и ответов, Барбара Климек

Josh Stiksma - Senior Gameplay Designer --> старший дизайнер геймплея, Джош Стиксма

Ryan Treadwell - Bioware Development Manager --> менеджер по развитию, Райан Тредвелл

Andreas Papathanasis - developer --> разработчик, Андреас Папатанасис

Blair Brown - developer, games journalism celebrity --> разработчик, звезда игровой журналистики, Блэр Браун

Mark Wilson - level designer --> дизайнер уровней, Марк Уилсон

Jason Hill - level designer --> дизайнер уровней, Джейсон Хилл

Kaelin Lavallee - level designer --> дизайнер уровней, Кэлин Лавалли

Andre Santos - lighting/environment artist --> художник уличных сцен, Андре Сантос

Dean Roskell - senior designer --> старший дизайнер, Дин Роскелл

Jocelyn Legault - senior programmer --> старший программист, Джослин ЛегО

Ash Matheson - senior software engineer --> главный инженер-программист, Эш Мэйтсон

Aidan Scanlan - Assistant Director of Design (?) --> помощник старшего дизайнера (???) Эйдан Скэнлан

Matt Rhodes - Bioware senior concept artist, was responsible for DA2 companion concepts. --> главный художник концептов, Мэтт Родс

Jarrett Lee - Bioware marketing lead --> директор по маректингу, Джаррет Ли

Nick Clifford - EA product manager for Dragon Age/Mass Effect --> менеджер по ДА и МЕ от ЕА, Ник Клиффорд

Brianne Batty - сценарист
 

Пролистайте пару страниц перед тем как постить новости.

 

[Hysteria 7 362]

Эльф

и остальное

[amercafe 20 060]

[Резчица 19 045]

Фильм по ДА

http://dgaider.tumbl...nd-dreamcasting

О женской броне

http://tmblr.co/ZIsNnt19Mu8sw

Внезапно о Вивьен

user @BioMaryKirby I can't wait to meet Vivienne. May I ask, if compare her to food, which one do you think she's most comparable to?

Mary Kirby @user The official ruling of the Writers' Pit is: Ortolan bunting.

Retweeted by Mary Kirby

Rinji Renee @Rinji Renee

A Vivienne drawing, offered up as tribute to her beauty. I can feel her judgmental gaze, as I know I am not worthy. pic.twitter.com/qDDjGo2SFd

Изменено 10 марта, 2014 пользователем Резчица

[Лелька 27 854]

Фильм по ДА

http://dgaider.tumbl...nd-dreamcasting

Честно скомунижденый перевод, если кому интересно.

Девид Гейдер и его идеальный актёрский состав.

Ричард Армитэдж в роли Логейена и Крис Хэмсворт в роли Мэрика в экранизации Украденного трона? Да, да, чёрт возьми! или «Какая жалость, что я не подумал об этом сам!». Серьёзно, если бы по Dragon Age снимали фильм, каких актёров и актрис вы бы хотели увидеть в главных ролях?

- Вопрос фаната

Экранизация Dragon Age? Боже.

Прежде всего, подчеркну, что я не знаю, возможен ли такой проект вообще. Если бы над ним и начали работать, я бы ничего о нем не знал. И, весьма вероятно, меня вряд ли привлекли к чему-то кроме лора. Так что мои рассуждения на данную тему сугубо гипотетические.

Лично я считаю, игровой фильм по Dragon Age будет очень трудно снять, по крайней мере, снять так, как большинство фанатов видят его, а именно, различные предыстории в Origins и DA2.

То есть, давайте представим Dragon Age: Origins как фильм. Для начала, придется разобраться с главным героем… который сам по себе не является полноценным персонажем (что было сделано так намеренно). С другой стороны, это конкретная личность для каждого конкретного фаната игры. Стоит ли выбрать одного из них, огорчив при этом прочих игроков? Стоит ли слепить из Алистера и главного героя одного человека(это решение видится мне вполне оправданным), огорчив при этом тех, кто буквально взвыл бы от такой невероятной неточности?

И кстати о неточностях, я все думаю, что бы мы делали с персонажами фильма или, например, сериала. Что получается? У нас девять спутников, большинство из которых после завершения их сюжетного квеста просто таскаются за главным героем, или сидят в лагере, ковыряя в носу. Да, зрелище вышло бы просто фантастическое, я уверен. Пришлось бы поменять саму структуру повествования. Даже, если говорить о чем-то более долгом, чем двухчасовое кино. Готов поспорить, пришлось бы и сам состав урезать, не говоря уже о сюжете(основной маршрут: Остагар-Редклиф-Собрание земель-Денерим).

Если ЭТО всё-таки официально анонсируют, то я хотел бы оказаться где-нибудь подальше от Интернета. Можете себе представить такое? Ну, или кто-то все же сумеет уместить сюжет в 80 с лишним игровых часов, изменяемого(и безголосого) протагониста, 12 основных персонажей в короткий фильм или сериал, который фанаты примут с восторгом. Все возможно. Я честно не знаю.

Но, я полагаю, вопрос был об идеальном актерском составе для фильма или сериала, так ведь? Я знаю, знаю… Просто мне сложно отделить одно от другого. Всякий раз, когда я вижу фанатский список актёров, я задумываюсь, могло ли это стать реальностью. Это списки, в которых персонажей, даже второстепенных, играют звезды кино. Я знаю, это всего лишь фантазии, но не могу смириться тем, насколько это неправдоподобно.

Кроме всего, я, наверное, должен заметить, что мой выбор, скорее всего, не совпадет с предпочтениями большинства фанатов, которые обычно делают акцент на внешней схожести актёра и персонажа. По-моему, это не столь важно. Если бы мне пришлось проводить кастинг на роль Алистера, я бы отдал предпочтение актёру, который прежде всего смог бы передать его милую бестолковость, а не просто был бы похож на него внешне. Алистера мог бы сыграть Майкл Би Джордан, и я был бы не против… даже, если бы большинство фанатов возмутились не тому цвету волос.

Так что не принимайте мои соображения на счет ролей слишком близко к сердцу. Это всего лишь моё мнение. Я не особо размышлял над списком, хотя составлять его и было весело, вне зависимости от того, насколько каждый вариант реален.

Алистер - Эдди Редмэйн

Морриган - Эмили Блант

Флемет - Хелен Миррен

Логейн - Лайам Нисон

Варрик - Нейтан Филлион

Изабела - Розарио Доусон

Рыцарь-Командор Мередит - Гленн Клоуз

Кассандра - Ринко Кикучи

Так, надо остановиться. Я и так потратил на это слишком много времени, и я даже начал спорить с другими писателями. Мы, между прочим, потратили кучу времени, обсуждая, кого сфыграл бы Идрис Эльба: Дункана, Андерса, или вообще всех персонажей. Потому что Идрис Эльба.

Если бы я продолжил в том же духе, то убил бы всю работу команды на целый день. А ещё, я уверен, если бы меня спросили о том же завтра, ответы были бы совсем другие.

Взято с VK

Изменено 11 марта, 2014 пользователем Лелька

[Revelate 10 116]

Первая волна инвайтов на бету DA Keep. Проверяйте ящики, кто регистрировался.

http://www.vg247.com/2014/03/12/dragon-age-keep-beta-invites-are-rolling-out-today/

[Резчица 19 045]

User:

Will The Masked Empire release for Kindle? Thanks.

Patrick Weekes ‏@PatrickWeekes :

Yes, should be simultaneous with print release.

User:

Any chance for Elink edtition of Masked Empire? I live in another country and waiting will be soo long.

Patrick Weekes ‏@PatrickWeekes:

Sorry, not sure. I know it is coming on Kindle and other e-formats, though.

[Резчица 19 045]

http://tmblr.co/ZIsNnt19wcMWJ

Cameron Lee

#DAI sprint review is about to start.

Cameron Lee

Just getting through general updates, sexy stuff is a little later #SprintReviewDay

Cameron Lee

@AarynFlynn got hold of the mic and won't stop talking

Michael Gamble

@Cameron__Lee @AarynFlynn are there tears? I heard if you capture a tear of Aaryn, it brings 3 games worth of luck

Cameron Lee

@GambleMike @AarynFlynn Does it count if I kick him in the balls to make him cry?

Aaryn Flynn

@GambleMike @Cameron__Lee It's my third most powerful secretion

Aaryn Flynn

@Cameron__Lee @GambleMike No it does not. They must be tears from my HEART

Allan Schumacher

@Cameron__Lee @AarynFlynn On the plus side I think what he had to say was pretty good!

Sebastian Hanlon

@AllanSchumacher @Cameron__Lee @AarynFlynn Especially when he started freestyling. That was -tight-.

Aaryn Flynn

@AllanSchumacher @Cameron__Lee Thanks!

Cameron Lee

Watching a frostbite video showing the awesome stuff coming in for us to use in the next month #sprintreviewday #DAI

Cameron Lee

Multiple rounds of applause during the frostbite video. This will make DAI play and look even better than we had planned #sprintreviewday

Cameron Lee

An update on the DA Keep closed beta and now a video on the next evolution of that live experience #sprintreviewday

Cameron Lee

Hubs now. Hubs are things like castles and other bases you and your Inquisition own #sprintreviewday

Cameron Lee

Seeing how you can customize your awesome main castle #sprintreviewday

Billy Buskell

Hey @Lazertuna. That was awesome! #sprintreviewday

Jason Hill

@ehlien :D thanks!

Mike Laidlaw

@Lazertuna @ehlien It really was.

Cameron Lee

Video of cut scenes, story and conversations you may experience. We haven't shown much of this yet but it's coming soon! #sprintreviewday

Billy Buskell

@machinimated just dropped bombs! #sprintreviewday

Cameron Lee

Tons of ambient NPC behavior reacting to you and the environment #sprintreviewday

Cameron Lee

RPG video. Weight capacity, level up GUI, offhand weapons, party picker and character generation flow! #sprintreviewday

Billy Buskell

And @Ryan_Treadwell, @tylerD_lee, and co just MADE ALL THE THINGS! Applause earned! #sprintreviewday

Cameron Lee

#DAI character gen now working for all genders and races! Be who you want!! #sprintreviewday

Frank Gordon

#sprintreviewday pic.twitter.com/jYBPjDf3hd

Cameron Lee

Listening to the music scores for two of the plots. Damn, freaky much! #sprintreviewday #DAI

Cameron Lee

The face morph system is crazy powerful, you'll be able to create radically different looks #sprintreviewday

Billy Buskell

This is a gorgeous game. #sprintreviewday

Cameron Lee

New FADAR! We love it! #SprintReviewDay

Łukasz Krawczyk

@Cameron__Lee FADAR? What is this?

User

@ilidanda @cameron__lee like a fading mini-map, or radar you can look at in certain points (I'm guessing its this)

Tyler Lee

@Cameron__Lee @Ryan_Treadwell should be put in charge of naming everything.

Cameron Lee

High dragon spitting fireballs as it soars above you #SprintReviewDay

Cameron Lee

Underwater vegetation looking nice and slimy #SprintReviewDay

Cameron Lee

Sprint review is over. Sorry it was so short but we changed it to an hour of power rather than a whole day. #SprintReviewDay

User

Big shout out again to brilliant #DAI producer @Cameron__Lee for his minute by minute updates on latest sprint review on Inquisition

Cameron Lee

Thanks mate, sorry I can't give more details

Neil Thompson

A podium for the ages... @BioMarkDarrah @AarynFlynn #DAI #greatpodiums pic.twitter.com/FDyyuFWRYL

Vince Waldon

@NeilEJT @BioMarkDarrah @AarynFlynn "And that's how you too can make millions in the lucrative world of nug farming. Any questions?"

Alistair McNally

@NeilEJT @BioMarkDarrah @AarynFlynn What you can't see, sadly, is the mic which had just been dropped, nay, thrown down prior to this pic.

User

Please tell me you guys always speak like this because it's fabulous.

Aaryn Flynn

@Al_McNally @NeilEJT @BioMarkDarrah Yes. Yes we do.

User

So basically I just need to move to Edmonton. Got it.

Alistair McNally

@NeilEJT @BioMarkDarrah @AarynFlynn At BioWare we generally communicate any of three ways: Soliloquy, mic drops and table flips

User

@Al_McNally @NeilEJT @BioMarkDarrah @AarynFlynn I am really sad that pigeon carriers are not on that list.

Aaryn Flynn

@Al_McNally @NeilEJT @BioMarkDarrah Only recently were they deprecated

Neil Thompson

A "lectern" I should say! I do beg your pardon... @aidanscanlan @BioMarkDarrah @AarynFlynn #DAI #greatlecterns

Vince Waldon

Just sat in a room of 150 grown-ups loudly cheering, with an almost Bieber-like enthusiasm, upcoming game engine updates. #DAI, baby!

Alistair McNally

Pffft. The Dragon Age Inquisition Sprint Review wasn't THAT great today... by the time I got there all the beers had gone. FML.

Изменено 15 марта, 2014 пользователем Deathstrike

[amercafe 20 060]

У нас тег спойлера перестал существовать?

[Гость Merrin]

На амазоне выложена первая глава Dragon Age: The Masked Empire

UPD: Текст пока убрали, поэтому скопирую.

1

Empress Celene strode into the University of Orlais’s great Chantry Courtyard surrounded by her entourage of servants and guards and flanked by Ser Michel, her champion. The entire faculty had been assembled to greet her, and the professors bowed at her approach.

In the wan morning light, the marble walls glittered like fresh-fallen snow. The stone tiles of the courtyard had been set with a mosaic of Andraste, proud and defiant in her mother-of-pearl armor with carnelian flames behind her. Celene noted with approval that the mosaic had been restored since her last visit, where she had seen that time and careless boots had knocked some of the stones loose.

The mosaic of Andraste stared with lapis lazuli eyes at the chantry that gave the courtyard its name. It was the tallest building in the university, displaying its dominance with a pair of shining bronze domes that the university students jokingly called “the bosom of Andraste.”

Not that the university chancelier had mentioned that to Celene, of course.

Over the great bronze doors, over a mural of Andraste and her disciples, a phrase from the Chant of Light had been set into the stone in gold: A LEARNED CHILD IS A BLESSING UPON HIS PARENTS AND UNTO THE MAKER. The university chancelier and his professors stood with heads bowed beneath the phrase as Celene and her entourage made their way across the mosaic of Andraste.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” Chancelier Henri Morrac said, and at a gesture from Celene, he and the other professors rose from their bows. “We are honored by your visit.”

“In such troubled times, Morrac, I find myself taking comfort in the knowledge and wisdom you and your university provide the future of Orlais.” Celene smiled and gestured to her attendants, and two of them produced a jumble of intricately wrought silverite that, with a few twists and turns, could ingeniously be shaped into a small but surprisingly comfortable bench.

Ser Michel stepped aside, his eyes taking in the walkways and windows set into the marble walls, alert for any threat to the empress but always projecting the air of confidence Celene required in those who served her personally.

Morrac started. He had clearly expected to invite her into his office, to discuss the reason for Celene’s visit in his place of authority and perhaps show off a new manuscript some promising student had uncovered. Beneath the comparatively simple mask he wore as a younger son of the Morrac family, his lips pursed in confusion and concern as he took a moment to reposition his approach to the conversation for an outdoor setting. Celene was quietly pleased to have him off balance so early.

The empress wore a creamy satin gown trimmed with ropy strands of pearls and woven with intricate patterns of gold set with amethyst to mark the colors of the Valmont family. Her position as empress dictated that this was the lightest and most comfortable gown she could wear in public except when she went riding, but it nevertheless weighed enough to crush her back and waist by the end of the day. She settled onto the small silverite bench, careful as always that no sign of relief or discomfort betrayed her.

She was aided in hiding her expression by the half-mask that all Orlesian nobles wore in public. It was inlaid with moonstone, and lines of gold suggested cheekbones and a nose. Tiny purple sapphires ringed her eyes, and dyed peacock feathers swept back from her head to ring her with a crown of gold and violet. The sapphires and feathers could be replaced with other colors to match a particular gown or represent a special occasion. Below the mask, the empress’s face was powdered white and her lips were lined with deep red.

“If Your Imperial Majesty wishes,” Chancelier Morrac began, “Professor Doucy would be pleased to give a reading from his dissertation on the inferiority of Qunari society. It is a bold attempt to expand upon Brother Genitivi’s earlier writings, and if I recall correctly, you found his earlier work quite promising.”

“That does indeed sound lovely,” Celene said, and waited until Morrac had half turned to one of the professors on his right before adding, “but I find discussion of the great horned rulers of Par Vollen somewhat stark on a day already beset by the promise of winter’s chill.” As he jerked back to attention, she added, “Perhaps one of your professors could entertain us with a study of mathematics. I have, in my own simple way, been struggling with Vyranion’s Theorem, and I would be quite grateful if one of your learned scholars could explain the process by which it is proven.”

For a moment, the great courtyard was silent but for a few birds which, fed by students or groundskeepers, had elected not to fly south for the winter.

Chancelier Morrac swallowed. Even as a younger son, he should have had better composure. Celene wondered idly whether his open expression had led his family to banish him from the dangers of the imperial court to the scholarly life, or if he had forgotten his courtly training since coming to the university. In either case, it spoke ill of him.

“Your Radiance,” he said finally, “you think too little of your own scholarly pursuits. Vyranion’s Theorem is exceedingly complex. I confess, in my own mathematical studies, the waves of my intellect have broken upon its rocky shores with little result. However, if you seek a mathematical demonstration, I have devised a treatise upon a specific ratio found in nature so often that it must reflect the Maker’s own hand. I would be honored to—”

“Tea?” Celene asked, and gestured to one of her attendants, who produced an elegant silver pot inscribed with runes that kept the water within hot with no need for a fire. Another servant drew forth cups and saucers of Antivan porcelain so fine that the morning sun shone through them. “Surely one of the other professors has mastered Vyranion’s Theorem. The University of Orlais can hardly be the most learned institution in Thedas if we cannot understand the work of a simple Tevinter scholar.”

Chancelier Morrac looked affronted at that. Perhaps the man had not totally lost his noble pride after all. “I assure you, Your Radiance, the University of Orlais is unparalleled in its pursuit of knowledge and culture, due in no small part to the fact that Tevinter scholars are but slaves to the mages who rule them. In granting us freedom from pressures religious or political, you have empowered us to further Orlais’s culture.”

Yes, Morrac still remembered enough courtly training to throw the occasional barb. Celene was pleased to see that the conversation might be interesting after all. “One of your students, then? When I went riding with Comtess Helene last year, she told me that she was sponsoring a young man whose mathematical abilities were nothing short of prodigious.” She took the teacup her servant offered and took a small sip. “Now that I think upon it, he was studying Vyranion’s Theorem, and the discussion led me to peruse it myself. Lennan, I believe, was the young man’s name.”

“Ah, yes,” said Morrac, his gaze going flinty as he saw where Celene was headed, “I think I remember his application. And while of course our doors are open to any who, through noble blood or proper sponsorship, are able to ensure that they will continue our distinguished traditions—”

“Tell me, Morrac,” Celene said, and paused to sip her tea. “You study mathematics. Are you familiar with the number zero?”

It was excellent tea, a Rivaini blend of cinnamon, ginger, and cloves, sweetened with honey just as Celene liked.

“Yes, Your Radiance,” Morrac said after a moment of silence, when it became clear that the question was not rhetorical. He took the teacup Celene’s servant offered him with scarcely concealed irritation.

“Excellent. That is the number of students at your university who do not come from noble blood. I confess to some disappointment in that matter, Chancelier Morrac, as I had hoped to see some improvement since our last talk.”

“Your Radiance—”

“Drink your tea, Morrac. I have not asked you to let peasants scurry through your halls. I have asked you to admit commoners who obtain sponsorship from a noble who recognizes in them some intelligence that transcends blood and offers a chance for Orlais to become greater through their studies.”

Morrac’s knuckles were white on the saucer he held. “The young man you spoke of, Your Imperial Majesty, was an elf.”

Celene turned to her champion, Ser Michel de Chevin, who was regal in silverite armor enameled with the imperial coat of arms. His own family’s coat of arms was inset just above his heart, while his mask was a simpler reflection of Celene’s own. “Ser Michel, I believe the chevaliers are renowned for their keen eyes. Tell me, is there not an elf already present with us in the courtyard?”

Ser Michel smiled slightly. “In a manner of speaking, Majesty.” He pointed at the chantry, specifically the mural over the great bronze doors. “If I am not mistaken, that mural is a faithful reproduction of Andraste and her disciples by the legendary Henri de Lydes. At the time Henri created the original, the elves were still considered allies, as they had not yet attacked and betrayed Orlais. Twenty years later, when Divine Renata called for an Exalted March against the elves, she also ordered the destruction of all Chantry art that included elves.” He smiled. “But Henri de Lydes pleaded with such grace and passion that she relented and allowed this single piece to survive, provided that Henri cropped the ears of the now-heretical disciple Shartan.”

Celene inclined her head gratefully. “Ah, yes. And it seems the university has copied the original piece quite faithfully. Can you point out Shartan, Morrac? The ears have been altered, but the large eyes make it quite clear.”

Morrac looked at the mural, then back at Celene. “Of course, Your Radiance. Unlike the Chantry, the university prides itself on creating an accurate vision of history. That is indeed the elf whom Andraste freed from servitude to the vile Tevinter Imperium.”

“How strange that the university, so eager to fight against pressures religious to limit its field of studies, would in this matter be unwilling to bend even as far as Divine Renata herself.”

“It is a puzzle, Majesty,” Ser Michel said, and looked over at Chancelier Morrac.

The chancelier took a long sip from the teacup, then set it back in its saucer, the porcelain clinking as his cup rattled. “We would of course be honored to review Comtess Helene’s application again.”

“Orlais honors your commitment to our culture and scholarship.” Celene inclined her head and stood. One attendant took the small silverite bench and collapsed it behind her, and Celene handed her cup and saucer to another. “Now, after this talk of matters religious, I believe I would like to spend a moment appreciating the lessons this chantry can teach. See that I am not disturbed, Chancelier Morrac.” Then she smiled, and as a peace offering, added, “When I am done, I would indeed be interested in hearing more about this ratio you say shows the hand of the Maker.”

The professors bowed and hurriedly stood aside as Celene approached the great bronze doors. Celene’s own servants held back as well, save Ser Michel.

“You might have informed me of the turn you expected the conversation to take, Majesty,” he murmured. “The Heresy of Shartan is not precisely common knowledge.”

Celene smiled without looking his way. “I had faith in you, my champion.”

“Shall I accompany you inside?”

“I believe I will be safe enough in the bosom of Andraste,” Celene said as Ser Michel pulled the door open. Michel looked inside, taking in the room and assessing any potential dangers, then turned to her and nodded, and she walked in alone.

The air was cool inside, though without the chill of the autumn wind, it was more comfortable than it had been outside. The stained-glass windows cast beams of crimson light across wooden benches whose oiled scent filled the chantry. At the far end of the hall, the eternal flame burned brightly in a great golden brazier, the only other light beyond the windows.

The chantry was empty save for a red-haired woman in a lay sister’s robes, who rose to her feet as Celene came forward. “Your Imperial Majesty,” she murmured, bowing deeply.

Sparring with Chancelier Morrac over the elves had been a gentle prelude to the real test of the morning. Celene gestured for the woman before her to rise. “I am glad the Divine was willing to meet.”

The red-haired woman smiled. She was unmasked, as those who served the Chantry most often were, and while she spoke with a native Orlesian accent, her features were Fereldan. The masks were part of the Game, the ruthless and endless contest by which dynasties were founded and lost in Orlais, and the Chantry’s insistence that their people go unmasked was meant to suggest that they were beyond politics. It was a suggestion that few in Orlesian nobility took seriously. “The matter at hand is, as your messenger said, quite serious, and the Divine would like to see it resolved. I am her voice in this regard. You may call me Nightingale.”

Beneath her mask, Celene raised an eyebrow. The Empress of Orlais was rarely asked to address someone by a pseudonym. Still, Justinia would only have sent someone she truly trusted.

Without ceremony, Celene sat down on one of the benches, her creamy satin gown bunching awkwardly and amethysts jangling against the wood. “You are familiar, Nightingale, with the tension between the templars and the mages?” When Nightingale hesitated, Celene waved for the other woman to sit as well.

“Of course, Your Radiance.” Nightingale sat, moving with a casual grace and coming to rest with her simple robes unwrinkled and unbunched. The subtle series of movements was the mark of a trained bard, and Celene filed the observation away for use as needed.

“The templars have become even more restless since what happened in Kirkwall,” Celene said, staring at the brilliant red light of the stained-glass depiction of Andraste on the pyre. Years of training let her see the woman beside her clearly at the edge of her vision. “As have the mages, for that matter. What does Dorothea intend to do?”

She had used Divine Justinia’s given name deliberately, and saw, from the corner of her eye, as Nightingale reacted. The woman’s eyes narrowed a tiny fraction, while her posture remained unchanged. Anger, then, but no insulted propriety. Nightingale might call the Divine by her given name, might well have known her before she rose to the position.

All this passed in a heartbeat as Nightingale said, “The Divine does not wish to assume that what transpired in Kirkwall was anything more than the actions of a single mad mage driven to tragic action by overzealous templars. You know that in some Marcher city-states, mages face more restrictions than they do in Orlais.”

“I do,” Celene said, “and I also know that you have not answered my question. If Dorothea proposes to do nothing to unite the templars and the mages, she is following in the footsteps of Grand Cleric Elthina, who waited and prayed while Kirkwall tore itself apart.” She turned and faced Nightingale directly.

The other woman had reacted again at the use of the Divine’s given name. “Justinia wishes to see this world made better, Your Radiance. We gain nothing by acting capriciously.”

“Sometimes events do not allow us the time we wish, especially when magic is at play.” Celene looked at Nightingale, who sat as a proper lady, relaxed and poised in her simple robes, and made a guess. “I understand that during the last Blight, the Circle tower in Ferelden was nearly lost when one of their senior mages became an abomination. After killing the creatures, the Hero of Ferelden was forced to decide on the spot whether to kill every remaining mage in the tower.”

Her barb struck home, as Nightingale blinked, then said with heat, “We are hardly in the thick of battle, Your Radiance.”

“We are always in battle,” Celene said. “It is only that some of us do not always realize it. A bard named Marjolaine once told me that. I heard she met an unfortunate end in Ferelden.” She sighed. “Isn’t that sad, Nightingale?”

Nightingale paused for a moment, looking at Celene with cautious respect. “I suppose,” she finally said, “it is a matter of perspective. And perhaps you might call me Leliana.”

“Perhaps I might,” Celene said, and smiled before lowering her voice and continuing. “Divine Justinia must know this: I have nobles begging in private salons for the throne to take direct action in this matter.” At Leliana’s shocked look, she nodded. “There are men of Orlais who would sooner see us march upon our own people in the name of safety. I would despise that. Dorothea knows that I would. But I must offer them some alternative.”

Leliana stood, frowning in thought. “You wish the Divine to make some overt show of ameliorating the situation.”

Celene let out a breath. “In truth, any overt show will bring complaints that I have allowed the Chantry free rein to rule this empire for me,” she said, and Leliana nodded wordlessly. “But if Justinia can calm tempers before I am forced to turn the blade of the empire upon itself, then I will pay such a price willingly.”

Leliana smiled. “You think less for yourself and more for Orlais than I had expected, Your Radiance. It is a fortunate quality in a ruler, and one I have not seen enough.”

Celene stood as well, and for a moment her gown was bathed in the crimson light of the stained glass. “Tell me something. How large was the Archdemon?”

Leliana laughed the delicate cultured laugh of a noblewoman or trained bard. The effect made her sister’s robes look like a poor disguise. “Large enough, Your Radiance, that after having seen it, most problems seem small by comparison.” Her face turned serious, and she added, “I will ask Justinia to consider acting directly. She will want your support, to head off accusations that she might be attempting to steal power for herself.”

“Of course. Perhaps if she made a statement at a ball thrown in her honor?”

Leliana considered it. “It is not the place where one would expect her to make such a pronouncement…”

“Which is why you like the idea,” Celene said, smiling. “It will also ensure that many of the nobles petitioning me for action will have little choice but to hear her words and know that the matter is being attended to.”

Leliana grinned. “You were trained as a bard as well, Your Radiance. It is easy to forget. I shall take the proposal to the Divine.”

“Three weeks,” Celene said, “or at most, a month. Any longer, and I will have no choice but to act. The nobles will want some sign of resolution before they retire to their winter homes.”

Leliana bowed. “Your Imperial Majesty.”

The Divine’s spy left through a hidden side door, and Celene sat back down on the bench. This time, mindful of her training, she sat without making a sound or wrinkling her gown in the slightest.

Three more weeks of gritting her teeth and dealing with Grand Duke Gaspard, who agitated with the other nobles in an attempt to start a war. Three weeks of trying to ignore the idiotic arguments started by thuggish templars and mages who refused to see the way of the world.

And her reward for perseverance would be Gaspard bellowing that she had let the Chantry have more power, as though power was a sword only one person could hold at a time. It was not. Power was a dance to be navigated with partners, knowing when to lead, when to follow, and when simply stepping on the hem of a rival’s gown could send her to the ground in shame.

In careless hands, such power could bring down the greatest empire in Thedas. The culture and history of all of Orlais was Celene’s to protect.

It was at times like these that she enjoyed the simple pleasure of bending a recalcitrant professor to her will. “Three weeks,” Celene said, and allowed herself a moment to watch the fiery light play through the stained glass.

* * *

The half-masks that the nobility wore in public were always mirrored by the masks of their servants, albeit less extravagantly, and with less variation than the nobles, who could often afford different masks as the needs of fashion dictated. If a lord’s house mask was a lion carved from ivory and inlaid with onyx and gold, his servants’ masks would be lions as well, painted black and lined with brass. The masks protected the servants when they were about, warning tradesmen and merchants that any offense given to the servant was potentially an offense to the servant’s master. To servants of other houses, the masks were a way to instantly recognize a potential ally … or a potential enemy.

The masks worn in the royal palace at Val Royeaux by servants who were to be seen in public mirrored the one worn by Empress Celene. Where hers was inlaid with moonstone, theirs were simply enameled, or inlaid with ivory for the highest-ranking servants, and the gold and violet were simply painted on. Below the half-masks, the servants of Val Royeaux painted their faces white, a mark of additional status.

To a visitor, looking at a sea of pale faces trimmed with gold and violet, the servants were almost identical. The women wore serving dresses, the men tight breeches, both cut in the latest fashion and dyed in the royal colors. Only the guards and the servants who were never meant to be seen—the cook and her assistants, for example, or the laborers who cleaned the privy—had their faces visible.

But the goal for the half-masks that every servant wore was pageantry, not anonymity. Otherwise, the mask would have covered Briala’s elven ears.

“You, there! Rabbit!” called the chatelaine as Briala passed the great hall.

Briala turned. “Mistress?”

“Turned you out, did they?” The chatelaine looked back to the great hall, where servants on ladders were adjusting a great purple banner so that the golden lion of Empress Celene’s House Valmont would hang at the proper height. “It may be acceptable to have you dress Her Imperial Majesty on a normal day, but for a ball, they’ll want everything proper.” She squinted. “Higher on the left!”

Briala had seen the chatelaine prepare for countless balls before. The woman was always angry and snappish at the time, taking out her anxiety on anyone she could. Today felt different, however. Her barb had little heat behind it, and all the servants knew that Briala got on well with the girls who dressed Celene for the most formal occasions. She had to, lest they become rivals.

What was more, a few stray locks of the chatelaine’s hair had been caught under her mask, a faux pas that was completely unacceptable for any servant in the imperial palace. The chatelaine could not have failed to notice it unless she had removed her mask and then put it back on quickly.

“Yes, mistress,” Briala said. She had been Celene’s handmaid since childhood, when the empress had just been one girl among countless rivals for the throne. Now, in Val Royeaux, Briala was one of the few elves who had been granted the mask of public service.

“Well, you can make yourself useful, then. Run to the kitchen and speak with the cook and her girls. The weather has been dry, and I won’t have the meat go dry along with it.” She turned back to Briala. “Last autumn, Lady Montsimmard said that the Circle of Magi served better duck than we did.” She glared, the narrowing of the eyes visible through the slits in her mask. “Tell the girls that if this happens this year, I’ll have them whipped.”

“Yes, mistress,” Briala said again, ducking her head to make her respect clear. The hierarchy among the palace servants was strict and clear, and while Briala’s status as Celene’s personal handmaid set her off to one side of the chain of command, she was by no means free of it completely.

“Oh, no need to worry, rabbit.” The chatelaine patted Briala familiarly on the shoulder. As she did, Briala saw that the clasp on the other woman’s cuff was unfastened, another mistake that the servants who dressed the chatelaine would never have made. “It’s just to put the fear of the Maker in the lazy things. We’d never whip you. Off with you, now.”

“Yes, mistress,” Briala said for the third time, and left as the chatelaine began yelling at the servants to lower the left side of the banner.

As she strode down the great hallway, the floors covered with fine Nevarran carpet and the walls lined with classical paintings and curls of swirling stucco, Briala thought.

The chatelaine had served Celene faithfully for more than a decade. She cared deeply about her job, and would never allow herself to be distracted on the day of a ball unless she were somehow compromised. The clasp and the stray hair suggested a new lover who had pressed his or her suit and taken a few moments of the chatelaine’s time.

It could have been nothing more than that, of course, but in Val Royeaux, everything was part of the Game, even the clandestine affairs of the more important servants. Briala had grown up watching the Game, and as one of Celene’s pieces, she was determined to win.

If Briala assumed the worst, the chatelaine would not knowingly be involved in the matter. An embarrassment to Celene would bring embarrassment to the chatelaine as well, and if, Maker forbid, Celene died or lost power, the chatelaine would doubtless be replaced. If this was something more than an overeager new lover, the chatelaine was a tool, not an active member of whatever plot was unfolding.

The question was whose tool.

The heat in the kitchens was stifling, as dishes from all across the known world were prepared. The cook, Rilene, was a heavy, ruddy-faced woman whose thick forearms were burn-scarred from an accident in her youth—if the result of the former chatelaine’s thinking that Rilene was becoming presumptuous could be called an “accident.” Briala liked her, and she did what she could to protect the woman, who was better at making pastries than she was at the intricacies of the Game.

“Miss Bria!” Rilene called out, beaming, as Briala came in. “Does Her Radiance need something to last her until the evening banquet? We’ve some lovely pastries from Lydes.”

“Thank you, Rilene, but no.” She looked at Rilene’s girls, some human but many of them elven, and none of them masked. They were not to be seen by the nobles. “The chatelaine had concerns about the duck. She was … very emphatic.”

Rilene gave her a grateful nod. “I will see to it personally.” She dusted flour off her scarred hands and moved over to a pot, where a roasted dish was simmering in sauce.

“And if you could send one of the girls to find out any last-minute schedule changes the chatelaine has made…?” Briala asked.

“Of course, Miss Bria.” Rilene smiled. “I’ll have her find you.”

“Thank you.”

Briala left the kitchens and made her way around the palace. In the great hall, the chatelaine had finished with the banners and was now yelling her way through the organization of the tables. The elaborate card rooms bordering the hall had each been decorated in the style of a different country, from the great bearskin rugs and golden mabari statuettes of Ferelden to the decadent silks and magical lamps of Tevinter. The balconies offered a view of the great hall, as well as an escape to fresh air outside, where verandas overlooked a hedge maze dotted with sparkling marble fountains.

“You, there! Knife-ear!”

Unlike “rabbit,” which was usually spoken with a friendly condescension that only made Briala grit her teeth a little, “knife-ear” could never be mistaken for anything but an insult. It was what a human might use to address gutter trash that was too lazy to work and too stupid to steal.

The captain of the palace guard did not wear a mask. None of the palace guards did. It would be too easy for an assassin to blend in and get close to the empress while armed and armored. His face displayed the long angles that spoke of noble blood, and beneath his surcoat, emblazoned with the golden lion of House Valmont, his ceremonial breastplate gleamed.

More important to Briala, one of the buckles on his breastplate was askew, and he had the welt from a love bite just below one ear.

“Trying to sneak around and dodge your duties, knife-ear?” he said with a sneer.

“The empress bade me examine the preparations for tonight’s banquet.” Briala did not bow. As the captain of the guard, he was important enough that she should, but Briala had enough power to skirt the rules when she truly wanted to—and at the moment she truly did.

“A pretty story.” He sniffed, and then examined her with new interest. “Though if you’re keen to find some distraction, you’ve a fair enough form that I might ignore those flaps of filth jutting out from your head.” He stepped closer, blocking her view of the garden. “Perhaps I might even hold them like reins.” He smelled of sweat as well as lavender, the chatelaine’s favorite scent.

She stepped back inside. “I doubt the empress would approve.” She turned and left without a backward look, still thinking.

The captain of the guard was carrying on with the chatelaine, and his attentions had clearly been meant to harass her until she left, to distract her from looking down at the hedge maze below … which was why he had moved to block her view. From what Briala remembered, the captain had been brought in recently after his predecessor had died. Before that, the man had served in the military. Briala didn’t know where, but given Grand Duke Gaspard’s popularity with the soldiers …

She knew who and where. All that was left was to find out what.

She hurried down a curving staircase whose marble steps were carpeted with red velvet, but a call from behind stopped her before she reached the doorway leading out to the hedge maze.

“Miss Bria!” Briala turned to see one of the elves who worked in the kitchen hurrying her way. “I was told to find you.”

“Thank you, Disirelle.” Briala smiled at the young woman. “What have you found?”

Disirelle lowered her voice and tugged at her sleeve nervously with thin fingers. “The chatelaine added a bard, Melcendre, to tonight’s guest list.”

Briala nodded. “Thank you. Now, if Rilene can spare you for another moment, may I ask you to find out what the captain of the guards has been doing today?”

“Of course, Miss Bria. Rilene said that I was at your disposal.”

“Good.” Briala turned to the hedge maze. “I will be in there, hunting.”

* * *

Celene had seen the Orlesian chevaliers train. One of their most famous tests, at least among those tests they showed in public, was a series of blades mounted on posts in a great wooden scaffolding. When servants worked at a massive hidden wheel, the blades would spin and slash, attacking anyone who passed with dizzying speed. Brave youths at summer festivals would try to rush through in heavy padded tunics, the blades blunted so that most contestants broke no more than their pride. In real tests, it was said, the blades were sharpened, and the soldier ran the gauntlet unarmored.

That gauntlet was always how Celene imagined the formal banquets.

Fortunately, she did not run this gauntlet alone. Her champion, Ser Michel, was a pace behind her, as always, unarmored so as not to cause a disturbance as Celene navigated the crowd, but carrying his blade nevertheless. His hose were rich golden silk and his doublet was violet suede made from beasts the dwarves raised like cattle. His scabbard was ornamented with an inlaid lion of gold with purple sapphires for the eyes and mane, and while his hands were bare of the rings and bracelets other nobles favored—he would allow nothing to impede his ability to handle a blade—he wore atop his mask the tall yellow feather of the chevaliers.

“Orders, Majesty?” he asked in a voice low enough to carry only to her. Michel usually spoke little at these events, which Celene appreciated. As her champion, he was an extension of her public presence, drawing attention not to himself but to her. He cared little for the Game, but he had good eyes and followed orders. He had been with her for almost ten years, since her last champion had died stopping an assassin.

“Briala passed along what she found?”

“The sword in the bushes? Yes, Majesty.” He kept his voice low and calm, and by his body language, they might have been discussing the lovely wyvern ice sculptures at the refreshment tables.

“Watch the bard, Melcendre. It will begin with her.”

“Hopefully I will not be expected to pass any tests of religious iconography this evening.”

Celene checked a smile. “I will attempt to warn you this time should the need arise.”

As Gaspard’s bard, Melcendre, sang in a lovely voice about the end of summer and lost loves, Celene moved through a field of allies and enemies, well wishers and would-be rivals.

“Your Radiance.” Comte Chantral of Velun bowed at her eye contact, the motion making the string of black pearls attached to his nacre mask rattle. “Your light will keep the birds from departing this autumn, for they will think the summer lingers.” Chantral had been pressing for her hand in marriage for some time now. Given his apparent loyalty and clumsiness in the Game, Celene kept him at a comfortable and friendly distance without ever completely dashing his hopes.

Celene’s ivory gown was cut low, and against her pale skin a yellow diamond glittered in a rich golden setting. The gown complemented the great jewel, as teardrops of amber flowed from her bosom in ribbons of yellow that darkened to gold at the hem and wrists. Her mask was identical to the one she’d worn that morning, save that the feathers had been switched to gold filigree.

“Your kindness is as soothing as the warm waters of Lake Celestine,” she said, “and though I fear the birds must depart or die in the winter chill, I know they will grace the skies of Velun come springtime.”

She moved on and caught the eye of Lady Montsimmard, whose mask was set with glowing lyrium crystals on each cheek, a gift from the First Enchanter in the Orlesian Circle. “Cosinne,” she said with friendly familiarity as the other woman gave a deep curtsy. “It has been too long. Tell me, how did you enjoy the duck?”

“The sauce was divine, Your Radiance.” Lady Montsimmard and her husband had entertained Grand Duke Gaspard during the summer, and in past years had held out the family’s proximity to, and control of, the Circle as a bargaining chip. Celene found the husband dangerous and the wife dull, and suspected that Lady Montsimmard did not realize how precarious the situation with the mages had become. Her guess proved true as Lady Montsimmard added, “Though in truth, when we visited the Circle of Magi—”

“Oh, I should have a care when dining with them,” Celene cut in with a light laugh. “It seems that when they try to prepare a meal, everything around them ends up burned.” She moved on as Lady Montsimmard stammered out her farewell with a strained smile. Behind her, Celene knew without looking that Ser Michel had fixed Lady Montsimmard with a disapproving stare, a wordless reminder that Celene could laugh and play the Game, or, if she chose, she could have Lady Montsimmard’s head mounted on a pike. She made a note to speak to Madame de Fer, the Mage of the Imperial Court, about Montsimmard’s familiarity with the mages.

On and on she went through the crowd, trading greetings and kind words laced with poison. Should Orlais push for more advantageous trading terms with Ferelden while the upstart kingdom was still recovering from the Blight? What was to be done to ensure that nothing like Kirkwall could happen here? Was the university where noble sons came to study truly going to start admitting knife-ears? Celene’s jaw ached from smiling—it was the clearest expression visible below the half-mask and under the layers of makeup that covered her face. Beneath the bladed words, Melcendre’s beautiful voice continued.

Then, finally, the pageantry ended with the laughter of Grand Duke Gaspard.

It was a deep, booming bellow that had echoed across battlefields. It silenced the timid and the servants like a death knell, and pulled the other lords and ladies into chuckles with its weight.

The crowd before Celene parted, showing a clear path to the grand duke and the dark-haired bard before him. Melcendre was unmasked, though she wore the heavy makeup commoners donned at noble gatherings, and she had turned away in embarrassment at whatever Gaspard had said.

Celene steeled herself without any outward change of expression. She had played the Game for most of her life. No matter how prepared she was, no matter how much she had considered and planned and determined her strategy, there was always one moment of fear.

Then the moment was over, and she was moving toward the bard who had been surreptitiously added to the guest list at the command of a guard captain loyal to Gaspard. Ser Michel’s steady footsteps moved in time with hers, the large man matching her pace perfectly.

Melcendre was good, Celene noted, but not perfect. The makeup covered the fact that she could not effect the blush that would signal actual embarrassment, but she would have been smarter to add red makeup at the cheeks to give the assembled nobles the impression anyway. Seeing that little imperfection—not even a mistake as such, but a detail that Celene could have done better—somehow made everything seem easier.

“And with what wit has my cousin silenced so sweet a voice?” Celene asked into the expectant silence.

Melcendre paused, uncomfortable, but Gaspard dipped his head, a bow just barely sufficient to avoid undeniable insult. “Your Imperial Majesty,” he said, still chuckling, “I was pointing out that the young lady’s song had a melody similar to ‘King Meghren’s Mabari.’”

The assembled nobles tittered, scandalously amused. Celene kept her smile in place. It was a good first strike. The song had been popular and harmless decades ago, during the Orlesian occupation of Ferelden. It told the story of the unhappy Meghren, sent against his will to Ferelden by Emperor Florian. In the song, the hapless noble was comically frustrated at every turn by rough Fereldan culture, including a slobbering mabari hound that ate his mask.

While never forbidden, the song had lost its popularity after King Maric of Ferelden killed Meghren. Since coming to power, Celene had done her best to strengthen ties between the two countries, and the song mocking the crude Fereldans and their uncultured customs had never come back into fashion.

Until now, it seemed.

“I remember singing this with the men during marches,” Gaspard said. “It took us back to the days when Orlais stood poised to conquer the world. Poor Meghren, trapped far from the Maker’s gaze, trying to make himself at home among the dog-lords.” He was a tall man, broad in shoulder, and his doublet and hose were cut with hard lines and silver trim to give the impression of armor. His mask was gold, set with emeralds to match his family’s heraldry, and a tall yellow feather sprouted from the mask—like Ser Michel, he was a member of the chevaliers.

He was also standing not ten paces from Bann Teagan Guerrin, the Fereldan ambassador. The man’s face, bare of makeup, clearly showed his anger at hearing his people called “dog-lords.”

“It was a sad time for all of us,” Celene said, turning to the ambassador with a smile, “and Orlais is pleased to count Ferelden as a friend in these trying times.”

Teagan smiled gratefully and bowed. “Your Imperial Majesty, Ferelden hopes the same.”

“Of course.” Gaspard strode forward. “What’s past is past, eh, Teagan? And now we’re just two old warriors.” He clapped the Fereldan on the shoulder, and Bann Teagan stiffened at the familiarity.

“Did you bring your dog with you to Orlais, my lord?” Melcendre added, the dark-haired bard the very picture of innocence, even as the crowd chuckled.

Teagan turned to her, fists clenched at his sides. “Yes, though not to this ball. I doubt he’d appreciate the food.”

That got a laugh from the crowd. While not a master of the Game, the Fereldan noble was smart enough to see when he was being set up and to try to get the crowd on his side.

“Someday I’ll have to see your dog, Teagan,” Gaspard said, not to be distracted from his play. “But tonight, in celebration of the friendship between our empire and your, ah, kingdom, I brought something for you.” He snapped his fingers, and a servant rushed up carrying a long bundle wrapped in rich green velvet.

Gaspard took the package and handed it to Teagan with a wide smile. Reluctantly, knowing he was stepping into a trap but unable to find a way to avoid doing so, the ambassador unwrapped the package.

Inside, as Briala had informed Celene earlier in the afternoon, was a sword. It was Fereldan in make, largely functional but with a few hints of ornamentation around the hilt and cross guard to suggest that it was the fighting blade of a noble. It was worse for wear, with nicks along the blade and a few spots of rust.

“Grand Duke Gaspard!” Michel moved to put himself between Celene and the sword. The weapon should never have made it into the hall—guards at the palace entrance checked all packages to prevent an assassin from bringing a weapon inside. Which was, Celene reflected, why Gaspard had gone to so much trouble to get the package smuggled in and hidden in the hedge maze earlier that day.

“At ease, chevalier.” Gaspard eyed the blade. “I’d as soon come at someone with a fireplace poker as I would wield that thing.” He nodded to Bann Teagan. “It was taken off the body of some Fereldan noblewoman who got caught making trouble for poor Meghren. Moira, I believe.” Behind his gold and green mask, his eyes twinkled with good humor. “Our servants had been using it to kill rats in the cellars.”

Teagan had gone still, looking at the sword in his hands as though the rest of the court had vanished. The green velvet bunched around his white-knuckled fists.

“That was a noble’s sword?” Melcendre asked, adding just the right touch of doubt to lure the crowd into laughing at the battered blade and drive Teagan further toward saying something that Gaspard could construe as an insult.

It was a simple play, but an effective one. Bann Teagan would be goaded until he said something in anger. Then Melcendre would gasp in shock, to ensure that even the dimmest nobles understood that they should take offense. Celene would then get to choose between having Ser Michel challenge Bann Teagan to satisfy Orlais’s honor and saying nothing, allowing Gaspard to brandish his chevalier’s code of honor and deliver the challenge himself. Either result would sour relations between Orlais and Ferelden, moving them closer to another foolish war.

War was where Gaspard shone brightest.

All this crossed Celene’s mind, even as Gaspard twisted the knife. “Well, she called herself the Rebel Queen. Closer to being a bandit or a mercenary captain, really. She thought she could drive us out of Ferelden.”

“And she was right,” Teagan said, still not looking at Gaspard. “Her son Maric drove you all out of our kingdom.”

“Shame Moira didn’t live to see it,” Gaspard said, looking around the room with a grin. “Perhaps if she’d had one of your big dogs…”

A few nobles laughed. It was just enough to drive Teagan over the edge. Celene saw his shoulders tense, saw him open his mouth to say exactly what Gaspard had been waiting for.

“Bann Teagan,” she called out. She had ruled the greatest empire in the world for twenty years, and she knew how to send her voice slicing through a crowd to drive it to silence.

Mouth still half open, the Fereldan noble turned to her.

Because she and Gaspard had played the Game for long enough to be old familiar enemies, she gave her cousin a tiny smile before stepping forward. Excellent try, the smile said, and next time, perhaps you will be clever enough to succeed … but not tonight.

“Your Imperial Majesty.” Bann Teagan stood ready, the veins in his neck taut.

“I see from your expression that this blade has awakened old feelings in you. Has Orlais given you offense in the death of Moira Theirin, Rebel Queen of Ferelden?” As the crowd took a collective breath, she added, “Do you demand satisfaction?”

Teagan looked down at the blade in his hands, and then over at Gaspard. And finally, because he might have been lackluster at the Game, but he was not a fool, he looked at Celene herself, judged her stance, and quietly said, “I do.”

As the crowd erupted into yells, Celene smiled. Gaspard closed his eyes and shook his head, already knowing that he had lost, while his bard, Melcendre, looked to him in confusion, clearly uncertain how she was supposed to pull the crowd now.

Celene looked over at Michel and gave a tiny nod, and her champion drew his blade. The yelling of the crowd of nobles went silent at the sight of bared silverite shining blue in the grand ballroom.

“Then satisfaction you shall have,” Celene said to the Fereldan ambassador. “Ser Michel?”

“Your Radiance?” Michel asked, blade drawn, never taking his eyes off Bann Teagan.

“We have been challenged, and you are my champion. Do you stand ready to defend the honor of Orlais in a duel between men of noble birth?”

Without pause, Ser Michel said, “I do not, Your Radiance. Since we are the challenged party, it falls to us to choose the weapons used in this duel. We may not proceed until we do so.”

“Ah.” Celene paused for a moment, letting it build. “I see. I would be loath to stain the still-mending friendship between our two nations with noble blood shed in defense of past slights.” She turned to Bann Teagan. “Thus, as is my right, for the weapons in this duel, I choose … feathers.”

“Very good, Your Radiance,” Ser Michel said, and without hesitation, he plucked the tall yellow feather from his mask.

The nobles in the crowd were fickle, bloodthirsty, and vain, but above all, they were hers. As much as they would have enjoyed the scandal of a bloody duel, they admired a good display of wit. As Ser Michel brought his feather up with the crisp precision of a master swordsman, the nobles burst into delighted laughter.

Bann Teagan visibly relaxed, dropping the velvet-wrapped bundle to his side and giving Celene a relieved smile. “Your Radiance, I regret that I am unarmed for a duel of this nature. You may note that my nation prefers fur to feathers.” When he raised his fur-trimmed sleeves, he even got a laugh from the crowd.

“Quite so.” Celene looked over at Gaspard, who had assumed the polite smile one used in court to deny one’s enemies the satisfaction of a snarl. “Cousin, you have shown your generosity to our cousins in Ferelden with your first gift tonight.” She raised a hand and gestured in gratitude. “Would you be so kind as to offer a second?”

Gaspard blinked, then bowed. “Nothing could please me more,” he said, and with a quick and controlled gesture, he plucked his own feather from his mask.

Then he handed the yellow feather, the honored symbol of the legendary Orlesian chevaliers, to the Fereldan dog-lord he had just insulted.

As Ser Michel and Bann Teagan thrust and parried with their feathers to the delighted laughter of the crowd, Celene smiled and called for Melcendre to sing something celebratory.

* * *

Briala came to Empress Celene’s bedchamber that night through a secret door hidden behind a full-length mirror on one wall.

The empress had bathed after the ball—she often did—and changed into a satin nightgown of rich violet. The candle at her writing desk was barely enough to illuminate the pages she had been reading, and most of the room was lit only by the light coming in from the window—the pale yellow of the autumn moon above, and the warmer orange of Val Royeaux itself below.

“Has he spoken yet?” Celene asked, not turning around from where she sat at her writing desk.

Briala smiled at her empress, whose long blond hair was still touched with damp, catching the moonlight as it streamed down her back. “Yes, though I did not think it worth interrupting your evening. Your former captain of the guards has already confessed to smuggling in Gaspard’s gift, and has thrown himself upon your mercy.”

“What an optimistic decision on his part.” Celene chuckled, put down her pen, and turned to Briala. Celene’s face was, as it had been since childhood, a finer version of her mask—fine bones, porcelain skin, and red lips that naturally curved sweetly. “And the chatelaine?”

Briala hesitated, and Celene offered her a curious smile. Finally, Briala said, “Foolish and infatuated, but not disloyal.” Thinking of Disirelle and Rilene, who might have been whipped had the duck not been satisfactory, she added, “Though some gentle chastisement might ensure that she accepts her newfound disappointment with grace and dignity.”

Celene stood, still smiling. “Of course,” she said as she came forward. “Given our victory tonight over Grand Duke Gaspard, generosity is only appropriate.” Celene’s fingers traced softly on the side of Briala’s neck, and with a tiny rasp, Briala’s mask slid free. “After all, Bria,” she said softly as she set the mask aside, “one must make allowances for mistakes brought on by infatuation.”

Briala smelled roses and honeysuckle as her naked cheek grazed Celene’s, the gentle scents of an empress’s bath, and the satin of the nightgown was cool between Briala’s fingers as it slid away to bare pale skin. “Whatever you feel best, Your Radiance,” she whispered, and with her free hand, snuffed out the candle.

Copyright © 2014 by Electronic Arts, Inc.

Изменено 18 марта, 2014 пользователем Merrin

[Лелька 27 854]

Патрик Уикс, писатель Bioware и автор книги "Империя масок":

Тестировали игру после серьезных изменений. Новая игра с кунари-райзбойником. Она БОЛЬШАЯ.

"Меня здесь нет"

VK

[Резчица 19 045]

Patrick Weekes ‏@PatrickWeekes

"Celene is Patrick Weekes' self insert." BEST ADVANCE CRITICISM EVER. My secret wish to be a gay Orlesian empress revealed!

I am rolling, guys. I can't even... stahp...LMAO

[Гость Merrin]

Следующая книга в серии Dragon Age: Last Flight. Подтверждено Майком Лейдлоу.

Перевод аннотации:

Серые Стражи снова стали героями Тедаса: Архидемон повержен, а оставшиеся порождения тьмы загнаны обратно под землю. Мор окончен. По крайней мере, так кажется.

Валья, молодая эльфийка-колдунья, недавно принятая в ряды Серых Стражей, получила задание изучить исторические записи прежних Моров, чтобы лучше понять новый — и тревожный — феномен, связанный с порождениями тьмы. В ходе её исследования Четвёртого Мора обнаружилось зашифрованное упоминание, нацарапанное на полях древней карты, а также спрятанный дневник Иссейны — из последних легендарных наездников на грифонах. По мере того, как скрытые в дневнике тайны раскрываются, Валья начинает сомневаться во всём, что, как ей казалось, она знала о героических Серых Стражах...

Книга выйдет 12 августа 2014 года.

Изменено 20 марта, 2014 пользователем Merrin

[RemR 22]

Ребята, а кто может сказать: Да3 выйдет для мака или нет? А то бук мой умирает, стою перед выбором что брать..Предыдущие части вообще были для мака?

[LoginamNet 48 951]

Ребята, а кто может сказать: Да3 выйдет для мака или нет? А то бук мой умирает, стою перед выбором что брать..Предыдущие части вообще были для мака?

Официально как платформа не MacOS не заявлен. BF4 на том же движке на Маках не выходил. Думаю если и выйдет, то не сразу. И для таких вопросов есть такая вот тема. На будущее.

Предыдущие части выходили.

[Dikkens 1 710]

Про актера озвучки Логейна.

Изменено 21 марта, 2014 пользователем Dikkens

[Гость Merrin]

https://twitter.com/dragonage/status/447055882971402240

Каждый месяц посвятят определенному сопартийцу. Точнее, по пятницам будет что-нибудь новое о нашем спутнике. Это месяц посвящен Вивьен. Через неделю узнаем о ней побольше.

[Лелька 27 854]

Эльфа, спутника Инквизитора, зовут Солас. И, по словам Девида нашего Гейдера, он не тот самый "Дориан Павус" (тевинтерский магистр из опроса, утёкшего в сеть пару лет назад), а совершенно отдельный персонаж.

Скриншот из готовящейся статьи GameStar о Dragon Age: Inquisition

Кто заказывал эльфа в лосинах?

VK

Изменено 22 марта, 2014 пользователем Лелька

[Резчица 19 045]

http://terhodes.tumb...-the-dragon-age

This is the cover art I did for the Dragon Age novel Last Flight. I think it has gryphons in it

Who's next for April? If I told you that, it wouldn't be much of a reveal, now would it? How about instead of telling you who it is, I'll tell you who it's not? I've seen some posters guess that Cassandra and Varric will be next. They will not. In April, you will see someone new!

Изменено 22 марта, 2014 пользователем Резчица

[Unstabled 1 915]

Краткое содержание превью из Gamestar

Перевод:

Два новых спутника:

- Лысый эльф маг по имени Солас, который является отступником и экспертом по Тени.

- Кунари Железный Бык. Дэвид Гайдер описывает его словами:"Он не боится ничего кроме прошлого".

- Также Gamestar видели лучника (возможно Сера).

- Инквизитор может создавать свои собственные разрывы (если это правильный перевод для нем. Risse) в Тени и призывать демонов.

- Загадок по типу Тени (с преобразованием героя) как в Origins не будет.

- Для каждого пола два голоса озвучки (Я не знаю значит ли это 16 для каждой расы и пола или только 4).

- Введена возможность кастомизации комнат в крепости, можно покупать апгрейды: например, сад для выращивания растений, впоследствии применяемых в Алхимии. Также журналист предполагает, что в замке будет "комната с картой", на которой можно будет отправлять войска для открытия новых торговых путей или захвата постов.

- Динамическая природа. Если вы убьете всех волков в лесу, то они исчезнут на некоторое время. В том же лесу другой игрок может встретить оленя.

- Новые враги гиганты, типа огров Порождений Тьмы, могут кидать камни.

- Уязвимым местом дракона является голова.

Плюсы:

- большие и красивые территории;

- тактическая камера;

- бои делают вызов;

- импорт сохранений.

[Unstabled 1 915]

Картинки из Gamestar

Изменено 22 марта, 2014 пользователем Unstabled

[Медведь 47]

Краткое содержание превью из Gamestar

Перевод:

Два новых спутника:

- Лысый эльф маг по имени Солас, который является отступником и экспертом по Тени.

- Кунари Железный Бык. Дэвид Гайдер описывает его словами:"Он не боится ничего кроме прошлого".

- Также Gamestar видели лучника (возможно Сера).

- Инквизитор может создавать свои собственные разрывы (если это правильный перевод для нем. Risse) в Тени и призывать демонов.

- Загадок по типу Тени (с преобразованием героя) как в Origins не будет.

- Для каждого пола два голоса озвучки (Я не знаю значит ли это 16 для каждой расы и пола или только 4).

- Введена возможность кастомизации комнат в крепости, можно покупать апгрейды: например, сад для выращивания растений, впоследствии применяемых в Алхимии. Также журналист предполагает, что в замке будет "комната с картой", на которой можно будет отправлять войска для открытия новых торговых путей или захвата постов.

- Динамическая природа. Если вы убьете всех волков в лесу, то они исчезнут на некоторое время. В том же лесу другой игрок может встретить оленя.

- Новые враги гиганты, типа огров Порождений Тьмы, могут кидать камни.

- Уязвимым местом дракона является голова.

Плюсы:

- большие и красивые территории;

- тактическая камера;

- бои делают вызов;

- импорт сохранений.

Я прошу прощения, помню что эта тема не для обсуждения, но все же... Что значит другой игрок может встретить оленя? ДА Инквизиция это ММО?)) Или всё таки будет мультиплеер?

[Deathstrike 14 608]

Дело в том, что у каждого природа будет разной. То есть в определенной точке не будет сидеть заяц у всех. На том же самом месте может быть волк, или еще какой зверь.

Динамическая природа.

З.Ы. с такими вопросами обращайтесь в Дискуссионный с цитатой.

[Dikkens 1 710]

Гейдер по поводу телепортации

VK

Многие из вас могли заметить такую несостыковку: согласно базовым принципам магии, в мире Dragon Age телепортация невозможна, однако в Dragon Age: Origins прецеденты были, а в Dragon Age II так вообще кажется, что телепортироваться могут все, кому не лень. Дэвид Гейдер постарался разъяснить, почему так получилось.

Базовый принцип подразумевает, что магия не даёт возможности исчезнуть из одного места и появиться в другом, не пересекая каким-то образом разделяющее пространство. Так что невозможно телепортироваться за стену, воплотиться из воздуха с помощью магии, мгновенно перемещаться на большие расстояния.

С точки зрения игрового процесса, этот принцип влияет на то, как обычно используется телепортация — например, для появления и исчезновения врагов или преодоления препятствий магами. Он не исключает возможности быстро переместиться из одной точки поля боя в другую, если она в зоне видимости. Существует множество путей, как это может произойти, строго говоря не являющихся «телепортацией» (например, Веланна могла перемещаться через землю), но вот с визуальными эффектами ребята иногда перебарщивают. Есть определённая грань между впечатляющим видом заклинания и тем, что оно начинает выглядеть, будто правила мира на него вообще не распространяются, — она была пересечена с «прыжками» вражеских магов (должна была оставаться вспышка-след между тем местом, где маг исчезал, и где потом появлялся, но это не реализовали). В этот раз разработчики визуальных эффектов, связанных с данным принципом, сделают их сдержаннее.

Изменено 23 марта, 2014 пользователем Dikkens

[amercafe 20 060]

Гейдер о недавней статье из журнала:

“Just a note here that I’m seeing a few things mentioned as coming from the article which must either be misinterpretation/mistranslation or an error on the magazine’s part. Feel free to speculate on what they’ve written, but I advise caution before taking anything said as gospel just yet.”

x

Изменено 24 марта, 2014 пользователем amercafe

[Raf Age 433]

Гейдер о недавней статье из журнала:

x

Перевод:

На официальном форуме BioWare Дэвид Гейдер сообщил, что некоторая обсуждаемая информация из недавней статьи GameStar неверна вследствие недопонимания/неправильного перевода или ошибки журналистов. По обыкновению, он предоставил фанатам самим погадать, о чём конкретно он говорит, и призвал пока что не воспринимать всё сказанное в статье как данность.

Core_dragonage VK

Изменено 24 марта, 2014 пользователем Raf Age