I think there might be a simpler solution in this context, Eirene- the assumption that it was the Exalted March(ers) who broke the siege of the capital, and the idea that it was a credible siege in the first place. Both of these could be tied into the difference between a popular/national historical narrative, and what was actually responsible on the ground.
There are more than a few events in military history whose importance is frequently wildly overstated, especially in 'do or die' scenarios in which clearly only an underdog victory at the grace of god/the great leader/choose legitimacy of choice/etc. prevented great catastrophe and utter defeat... whether or not utter defeat was even possible. The example that comes to my mind is the Battle for Britain in WW2, which to this day is often credited with preventing a German invasion... that existed mostly on paper and ambition, since the river barges slotted for the invasion force were (a) woefully insufficient, (
ignored the Royal Navy, and © weren't even sea worthy to cross the channel. But it remains a notable moment of national pride all the same, and often enough presented as a point at which Britain really could have been invaded.
I suspect the siege of Val Royeaux was more hypothetical than practical, a point which would help explain the credit of the Exalted Marches in turning the threat around. Rather than a climatic battle by crusaders to lift the siege, it was probably closer to the WW2 German attempt to reach Moscow- maybe it was in sight, maybe it even had a few rocks thrown at it, but it was more of the over-expanded limits of an exceptionally good campaign season rather than a demonstration of relative war ability. It could just have had the virtue of turning around after that appeal for the faithful- maybe foreign volunteers came in time for a battle of note, maybe not, but the public history and narrative comes to remember the obvious and public sequence (Dales near Val Royeaux, Exalted March called, Val Royeaux safe) rather than the actual sequence of consequences (whether Dales had a serious siege, whether reinforcements were decisive, etc.).
That would indeed make the story a lot easier to digest - and initially I too thought that was the case - but unfortunately I believe that it's stated somewhere that Val Royeaux was
actually captured by Dalish armies before being defeated. The DA Wiki certainly seems to think so, although the specific comment about Val Royeaux's fall is unsourced and I don't recall any in-universe reference to it.
If Val Royeaux was never actually captured, then that does change things somewhat. It's still kind of hard to countenance; a Dalish attack that even threatened Val Royeaux would have had to have fought through the whole Heartlands to get there in the first place. But it's a lot easier than believing that the armies stood by while the capital fell.
Considering that Orlais was the only nation to commit deliberate troops, seeing most of the the Exalted March within the framework of the Orlais military recovering from its previous defeat and accepting volunteers within it's general framework seems more plausible to me. It certainly means downplaying the credibility of the initial threat of the Dales a bit, but I suspect the armies of the faithful were more about supplementing Orlais' own losses and recruitment efforts after the capital was already safe rather than a decisive military intervention in their own right.
Yeah, but I dunno...newly recruited armies don't really
do that in medieval warfare. The armies of faithful civilian levies tended to get shitstomped, even when leavened with actual aristocrats, noble retainers, and knights (exhibit A being the infamous "
People's Crusade"). Organized training regimens designed to allow a mass intake of new recruits to become warriors in short order didn't really exist. Levy armies not only remaining intact but successfully inflicting one of the most comprehensive military defeats in Thedosian history over a period of ten years...that's just very hard to believe.
I see this like the Christian Crusades. The church liked to make it out to be a holy war but the kingdom who participated in it only wanted some sweet land and property somewhere far away. Only in this game the crusaders won.
Well then.
Let's take a look at the First Crusade, shall we?
It included no kings among its leaders. It was led by some of the great landholding magnates of Western Europe, to be sure, but no kings. Ramon IV of Toulouse was one of the most powerful dukes in France with considerable landholdings; Godefroy de Bouillon was a minor noble from the Lotharingian borderlands; Étienne Henri of Blois was a preeminent count in western France. All of them possessed a great deal, and going on crusade meant the very real possibility of losing all. Initially, many of them did not even consider the expedition to be anything more than an armed pilgrimage. Ramon, for example, constantly talked about going home after finally being able to see the Holy Sepulchre (and he did just that, although he ended up returning to Outremer several years later), and Étienne Henri actually went home in the middle of the crusade because he was nervous and worried about being separated from his wife.
Certainly, one cannot say that no participants in the crusade had more secular concerns. The two Norman notables, Bohemond and his nephew Tancred, were described even by contemporaries as being nakedly ambitious and concerned for little other than carving themselves out an Eastern principality. But they were also specifically described as deviant from the norm, and Tancred especially came in for a great deal of vitriol from contemporary and later writers for playing a power game to the extent that he often ignored clerical stipulations and concerns. Problematically, though, the East was not exactly the easiest place to play such a power game. It was far away, dangerous, ridden with unfamiliar diseases and languages and customs. Men who were simply out for loot would have been well advised to stay closer to home. And most of them did.
The same calculation would have been available to the people who went on subsequent crusades. For the kings who fought on Crusade in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, conquest was simply impractical, and most knew it. If Richard I wanted to conquer lands, he would have been better advised to look closer to his lands in France than in Outremer. These kings also spent colossal sums on their crusading efforts. Richard instituted extraordinary taxation in both his Angevin lands and his English ones; Louis IX several decades later had to establish an entirely new bureaucracy simply to handle the underpinnings of his crusade. These expeditions were not cheap, and almost none of the kings could expect to hold whatever they took.
Instead, for these rulers, crusading was important for other reasons. Secular considerations were always relevant - it would have been foolish for them to have spent all that money and spilt all that blood for no other reason than piety. But those considerations were not "conquest", and frequently they were not even "loot". Rather, the label of
crucesignatus, and the ability to portray oneself as having fought for the glory of God were extremely important. Kings were fundamentally martial figures, and the propagandistic aspect of being a blooded combat leader was crucial to their ability to project confidence in their rule. But if one could say that one had done that while not merely fighting for one's own glory, but for religious glory...well, you can imagine. Kings who went on crusade, even unsuccessfully, never lost the appellation of crusader. Many were remembered fondly by chroniclers and countrymen, such as the aforementioned Louis IX. They could deploy it as a weapon against fellow rulers who had not fulfilled such an obligation: "I went on crusade and you didn't".
They also did not shy away from using the crusades to
exhibit themselves as being kingly figures. Whenever kings went to Outremer, they, well, reveled in the attention. Richard I played the political games in the kingdom of Jerusalem when he arrived in the East. It's not as though he achieved some sort of concrete gain from backing his favored candidates, but playing politics like that was what kings were expected to do: the lion throwing its weight around, so to speak. Conversely,
not doing these sorts of things - acting contrary to the generally expected kingly fashion - could have serious political consequences.
But these political acts coexisted with religious ones. These kings were going on pilgrimage to see the holiest sites in their religion. The Third Crusade rescued the kingdom of Jerusalem from near-certain destruction through victories at Acre, Jaffa, and Arsuf. It did not recover Jerusalem itself for the kingdom, but the crusaders' victories did force their enemies into allowing them the right to make pilgrimages to the city's holy sites. For many who went to the East, these were the expedition's primary goals: keep Christianity in the East alive, and allow its participants to see the Holy Sepulchre and the Temple Mount before they died. Richard I fought long and hard for that particular concession.
As far as the individuals who made up crusading armies went...well, they were as varied as the kings were. Some were out for loot, others for adventure, others for a new life, others for pilgrimage. All were unified by the ideological-religious justification at the crusades' core. Even the Italian naval powers that provided shipping and finances to the crusades cannot simply be described as nakedly capitalistic: the sources themselves emphasize civic patriotism, crusading idealism, and perceived self-interest in combination. The motivations were not mutually exclusive. Christopher Tyerman, in
God's Wars (2006), p. 181:
"The investment in fleets was great; the chance of disaster strong; the financial risks huge; the returns uncertain. [...] The commitment of these cities and their citizens to the Holy Land was neither more nor less idealistic than their fellow Latin Christians. The idea that enthusiasm for the cross failed to penetrate these bastions of early capital is inherently unlikely, based on a flawed model of human behavior and contradicted by the evidence."
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Having said all of that: I completely agree that many crusades were used more as political tools than as idealized calls to holy war. But they are mostly not the crusades that people know or care about. Most people know about the crusades in the Holy Land; a few have heard of crusades in the Baltic and in Spain. Almost nobody has heard of the Albigensian Crusade, which was fought ostensibly to eradicate Catharist heresy in southern France. And outside of academic historians, it is almost never acknowledged that even random civil wars in western Europe were often given the appellation of "crusade".
In those latter wars, it is far easier to discern power grabs independent of any ostensible religious justification. The Albigensian Crusade, for instance, ended up as an effort by Simon de Montfort to carve out a principality for himself in the south of France, and a recent historian of the conflict has dropped the "crusade" name entirely and simply referred to it as the Occitan Wars. When Montfort's son fought a civil war in England in the 1260s, it too was declared to be a crusade even though the conflict was chiefly about a struggle between Montfort and the English prince Edward over control of the King and the King's council.
Yet at the same time, those crusades are indicative of something else: the assimilation of the crusading ideal into western European society and its normalization. By the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, crusading almost became a metaphor for doing something good in the eyes of God. That opened up the term for abuse in propaganda terms, but it also meant that the idea of crusading was open to anyone who wanted to do something, even if they were not fit for military service. A burgher who donated funds to crusading armies or to the monastic orders, for example, could consider himself to have taken part in the same struggle that the armed pilgrims to the Holy Land did, even if that part was a small one. The analogy is poor, but it's a little bit like the varying definitions in Islam of the word
jihad - which is applied variously to holy war, struggles for women's rights, efforts to master one's personal emotions and conduct, and acting like a neighborly human being.
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Finally, the effects of the Andrastian Exalted Marches and the Christian Crusades are...well, kinda similar. In fact, one might say that the Exalted Marches were significantly less successful, not more so.
The Crusaders successfully captured Jerusalem and expanded their control to cover most of the Holy Land; the territory they created, Outremer, eventually collapsed after two centuries despite the intervention of repeated subsequent crusading expeditions with varying degrees of success. Some Holy Land expeditions were almost completely unsuccessful, and others were diverted onto other purposes for a variety of reasons. But other crusades, like the ones in Spain and the Baltic, succeeded in permanently expanding the frontiers of Christian polities and in converting the inhabitants of the territories they conquered. Spain is, notably, still a Christian country, as are Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, and Finland. And subsequent crusades, like the wars against the Ottoman Empire, achieved little at first, but in the seventeenth century crusading armies once again scored major successes, as in the liberation of Hungary between 1683 and 1699.
By comparison, the Exalted Marches against the Qunari have resulted in no successful conquests anywhere. Qunari invasions of the Tevinter Imperium, of the Free Marches, and of Rivain were turned back, kind of, except Rivain is arguably a Qunari satellite state anyway. Seheron is still under Qunari control, more or less. There was no equivalent to the capture of Jerusalem, no victory on the scale of 1099. On that analogy, the Orlesian conquest of the Dales is much more akin to the successes in Spain or the Baltic: militarily and politically successful and enduring for a long time, but in the minds of most believers...ultimately a sideshow.