Summer was quickly fading from the Frostbacks. Early though it still was, what light sprinkled down through the Inquisitor's windows was dappled grey as it filtered through the storm clouds clinging to the mountain peaks around Skyhold. Fall was a short, wet, and chilled season here, and Mihra Lavellan had wasted no time unpacking her winter bed linens as the last of the summer wildflowers had wilted. As such, when the dawn light creeped across her eyelids she buried her face deeply in her thick goose down quilt. She had spent months in Haven trying to get accustomed to human sleeping arrangements, but one week into Skyhold's winter and Mihra had quickly realize the advantages to sleeping buried in a nest of goose feathers and flannel.

Bang. Pause. Bang. Bang.

Mihra's eyelids creased as she nestled more deeply into her bed.

Bang. "Inquisitor!"

Mihra's eyes flew open as she sat up quickly, pulling half of her sheets with her as she attempted to stand. Sleep-heavy legs tangled under her, and she sat back onto the mattress hard.

"Y-Yes?" Mihra called down, rubbing sleep from her eyes and wondering if her voice sounded as thick as her tongue felt. "I'm awake."

She heard the chamber door open and the head of an Inquisition scout peer at her through the bannister of the entry staircase. "You are needed in the war room, your Worship," she said breathlessly, and Mihra caught the scout's eyes sweeping curiously around her quarters. "It's urgent."

"Well, I'd imagine," replied Mihra, running a hand through her hair as she peered out of the window. "It's barely dawn." She cast a distracted look back toward the scout, still watching her through the bannister. Mihra blinked.

"Give me two minutes," Mihra said after a moment of silence.

"Yes, your Worship," came the clipped response, and the scout's head disappeared as fast as it had come. Mihra blinked again. She must be new, Mihra thought as she carefully extracted herself from the tangled of bedding around her legs. Recruitment for the Inquisition's forces was still going strong as pilgrims flocked to their side in the wake of Corypheus's defeat, just over a year prior. Mihra wondered how much longer the glamor of the Inquisition would last now that Cassandra was officially named Divine and the continent was back to a semblance of normalcy.

Stifling a yawn as she pulled on her clothes from the previous day, Mihra scrubbed her face with her hands briefly before climbing down from her quarters.

Cullen pushed a scalding cup of dark black tea into Mihra's hands the second she entered the war room. Mihra smiled in thanks, cupping it to her stomach to fight the damp morning chill. Cradling his own cup, Cullen went wordlessly back to his perch on the windowsill, looking only slightly less bleary and red-eyed than Josephine, who was sitting on a chair in the corner glaring into her tea.

"I move to ban war councils before eight," the Antivan muttered darkly. Mihra noticed the hair on one side of her usually exquisitely-groomed head was sticking up in odd directions.

"Seconded," came Cullen's soft reply. Mihra smiled.

"Third. Motion passed; let's all go back to bed."

Josephine made an irritable noise in the back of her throat and slammed her teacup down. For all of her usual poise, the Antivan ambassador's habit of working late into the night rarely put her at her best in the mornings. Cullen's eyes met Mihra's, a small smile playing on his lips as he delicately took a sip of his own tea. Mihra's response was cut off by the heavy door to the room swinging open again.

Leliana stepped in lightly, a small roll of parchment clutched tightly in her hand. Fully dressed and groomed, the spymaster seemed to have been awake for hours for all she was composed. Or, Mihra reasoned, she may have never gone to sleep. There was much about the Inquisition's spymaster Mihra has never fully understood, and she supposed that the woman's sleep schedule would just have to be tucked away into that category.

"I appreciate you all being available so quickly," Leliana began, glancing around at the room's other occupants, her eyes lingering on Mihra. "I understand it is early, but the matter is urgent."

"Leliana, we figured that was the case when you woke us up before the sun had properly risen," said Cullen, sliding off of the windowsill. "Let's hear it, then."

Leliana swept her gaze over him, then back toward Mihra. Mihra met her eyes. Dimly, something in her stomach turned. Leliana was watching her, searching for her reactions. Why?

"Early this morning, Scout Harding delivered a batch of reports from out agents in the Free Marches—"

Out of the corner of her eye, Mihra saw Cullen's gaze swing over to the clock in the corner of the room, blink twice, then look back at Leliana. Mihra held back a smile. Leliana's concept of "early this morning" was more likely than not "the dead of night" for anyone else at Skyhold.

"At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but this—" Here Leliana held up the small, neat little roll of parchment in her hand. "—fell out of a series of agricultural reports from Wycome."

"Wycome?" said Mihra sharply as Leliana slid the parchment toward her.

"Given the city's history, I thought it best to bring it to your attention at once, Inquisitor." Mihra nodded in brisk thanks as she pried the slip of paper open, her jaw tightening as she spotted Keeper Deshanna's tight script

Da'len.

Forgive the secrecy, but I sense too many ears in these walls for me to contact you directly. Though you and I both make camp among shemlen, we first are Dalish. Our priorities must forever be thus. Arlathvhen is still a year off, but for a months now I have been speaking with Clans Ralaferin and Thelrahel to compile the new texts your Inquisition has forwarded to me.

Two months ago, Keeper Elindra Ralaferin stopped responding to my letters. I voiced my concern to Keeper Athrion. He too had not heard from Elindra; further, Thelrahel usually passes near Ralaferin during this season, but Athrion had seen no sign of the clan.

I saw no cause for undue alarm until now. Athrion too has stopped responding to me, nearly one month after I lost contact with Elindra.

I fear something hunts our people, da'len, but I have no resources to prove it. Wycome has been gracious this past year, but you know as well as I how fickle the shemlen can be. If something hunts the People, I dare not aggravate out situation here lest we ourselves be nesting with wolves. Your Inquisition has been a friend to us in the past, and I fear I must ask for your assistance once more in this matter. But please be careful.

May the Dread Wolf not impede you on your hunt.

Keeper Istimaethoriel Lavellan

"This was written over two weeks ago," said Mihra, noting the date scribbled under Deshanna's mark before releasing the letter for Cullen to inspect. Leliana gave a small frown.

"We had no idea this package contained anything this important," she said sourly. "If she had given any indication that—"

"If Deshanna fears corruption in Wycome again, she's not going to make any sudden moves," Mihra said impatiently. "She's too cautious for that. That's not my point. The message is two weeks old and we've lost valuable time."

Josephine was now reading Deshanna's note over Cullen's shoulder. Mihra broke gaze with Leliana to lean over the large map of Thedas sprawled across the war table.

"Have we heard anything from those areas?" Mihra could hear adrenaline washing the early morning rasp from her throat as she gestured toward the map. "Ralaferin would be travelling west along the coastlands this time of year. If Athrion says Therahel crosses paths with them, they must normally be in the upper Bannorn."

Leliana nodded her assent. "We tracked them just south of Amaranthine Kingsway last."

Mihra's jaw tightened as she shot Leliana a sideways look, but if the spymaster noticed she made no comment. This had been an old argument between the two: in the early days of the Inquisition Mihra had come across orders directing the Leliana's agents to trail each of the Dalish clans and mark their movements. Mihra wouldn't hear of it; history had shown her the result of humans tracking elven whereabouts too closely.

This was a perspective that Leliana lacked, however, and so to the spymaster Mihra was willfully denying her agents information. Information which, Mihra was loathe to admit, may have come in useful at this moment. Leliana eventually agreed only to make note of the Dalish when they emerged from the wilderness to trade. Unfortunately, this also meant that Mihra only had a vague sense of each clan's territory as a whole and not their movements within it.

Frustrated, Mihra scrubbed her face and tried to push away the vague sense of nausea settling in the pit of her stomach.

"Is this an attack on the Inquisition?" Cullen asked, voicing Mihra's concern. "They can't attack the Inquisitor personally, so they attack her heritage?" Mihra grimaced. This had been her fear ever since becoming Inquisitor: as a Dalish elf, she singled out her entire culture for attack. It only took a handful of bitter humans to wipe out a clan. It had almost happened to Clan Lavellan, and certainly the less known, more mobile clans posed an easier target than Lavellan ever was.

"Perhaps," replied Leliana, but the doubt was plain in her voice. "But my agents have seen no sign of unrest. Eliminating a clan without a trace would require a large force; we would have seen something. A mob would have left tracks."

"Perhaps the clans simply do not want to be found?" said Josephine evenly. She looked at Mihra. "Could they have simply changes their route? Run into an obstacle?"

"No," said Mihra grimly. "They were working on materials for Arlathvhen with Deshanna. They wouldn't just give up on that without cause."

Cullen scratched the back of his neck. "Sorry," he said, wincing. "But Arla—"

"Arlathvhen," said Mihra quickly. "It's a meeting of the Dalish. All of the clans gather once a decade to exchange the most important of their discoveries, reaffirm our culture, trade clansmen."

"Since the beginning," added Josephine. "Mihra has asked that I send any elven materials the Inquisition has recovered to Keeper Lavellan."

"The materials we salvaged from the Temple of Mythal alone would push Deshanna to seek aid from the other clans to translate it. Add on what we found in the Temple of Dirthamen, Sylaise's shrine—" Mihra shook her head.

"It would have been the undertaking of a century to have it all translated in time. Ralaferin and Therahel are known for being especially tenacious historians. They wouldn't have backed out of a project like this willingly."

The room was silent for a moment. Mihra stepped back from the war table, realizing she had been gripping the oak hard enough for her nails to make dents in the varnish. Her eyes found Wycome on the map of Thedas, and not for the first time she felt the sickening span of distance between her and her clan.

"So," began Cullen slowly. "What do we know so far? It isn't mob violence, so are we looking at something more organized?"

"I think we should assume this is an attack aimed at me," Mihra added wearily. "These aren't raider clans; they would have done nothing to antagonize human settlements. Already this is too complex to be simple prejudice."

"The timing indicates a connection between the two disappearances," said Leliana primly. "But that area is well settled; any one large group would have attracted attention if they moved directly between the two disappearances."

Josephine's eyes widened. "Are you suggesting there are two groups behind this?"

"We should consider the possibility," said Cullen quickly as Leliana made to respond. "That magic is involved." Three pairs of eyes turned to look at him warily, to which Cullen responded with the smallest of frowns.

"Don't tell me I'm the only one thinking it," he said, a bit gruffly. "The events of the past year alone should prove to us that magic in the right hands can seem limitless. Even without the magisters behind him, Corypheus threatened the fabric of the world."

"Corypheus is dead," replied Mihra tersely. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Leliana frown.

"We should consider the last time we faced similar disappearances," she agreed softly.

"What, the Wardens?"

"I'm not saying we've another Corypheus on our hands," said Cullen quickly, but calmly. Leliana's face remained steadily neutral, despite the panicked side-looks Josephine was now shooting her. "But we could very well be facing some splinter group of Venatori, or—"

"It would certainly answer some questions if Corypheus's old allies were behind this," said Leliana. "They have the motive, and likely spent the last year gaining power."

Mihra straightened quickly, rubbing her palms—which were suddenly cold and clammy—against her trousers. "That settles it then," she said. "I'm going."

Her advisors exchanged stricken looks.

"I think we can all agree that whoever is behind these disappearances is more than likely threatening you," said Cullen, his voice lowering in a way Mihra had come to associate with him putting down defenses. "You'd be walking into a trap."

"It would hardly be the first time." Redcliffe, Adamant, Haven twice over. The list went on.

"Traps aside," added Josephine quickly, looking between Cullen and Mihra. "We don't have any real information to work with. You are one woman, Inquisitior, and —while your talents are unquestioned—you can only be in one place at a time. If you give me some time, I can pool the Inquisition's resources, create a network—"

"There are compelling reasons to wait before charging the field," said Leliana measuredly. She gestured toward Deshanna's letter as Mihra met her gaze. "As you said: Lavellan's letter was written weeks ago. If the pattern holds, another clan will disappear soon."

Mihra stiffened, her fingertips pressing on the surface of the war table.

"Your plan would be to go to the site of the last disappearance, no?" said Leliana. "By the time you reached the coast, we'd be on the brink of another disappearance. Your Keeper has likely ensured that whoever the culprits are have no idea we are on their tail. They may be growing cocky, and after three attacks we may have enough information to find the pattern behind them."

"I'm not going to abandon a clan to strategy," seethed Mihra through gritted teeth. The tips of her fingers were growing numb as they ground into the war table's varnish. Leliana's eyes flashed.

"You'd be a fool not to," she said sharply. "In the field you are exposed, crippled. You can only act as quickly as we can get you information. And if I'm right? If we find a pattern in a week's time? What happens if the next clan to disappear is in Orlais, and you are stranded in the coastlands?"

The silence that followed was more a test of wills than anything else. Mihra's gaze was locked in Leliana's, her mind working furiously. These cool analytics were what made Leliana such a potent spymaster, but at this moment Mihra's instinct to run to her people's side overruled any logic the Orlesian could toss her way.

Still, the chance to be able to face the perpetrators head-on?

"We need information, Inquisitor," said Cullen softly. "Right now we have nothing but speculation to go on."

Mihra glared at him.

It was a long moment before Mihra found her voice again. "Given the time it took for Deshanna's letter to get here," she said slowly, through gritted teeth, as if every word sealed another small betrayal of her people's trust. But she needed information. "At best we have two weeks until the next attack. At worst we have days, if Deshanna waited before writing us."

Leliana straightened quickly, her eyes flashing triumphantly as she caught the gist of Mihra's words. Mihra gave her a stony look.

"A week."

To her credit, Leliana held back whatever smile was growing in the back of her eyes as she nodded. "My agents will be alerted immediately. We'll see something."

"Cullen, do what you can to mobilize your soldiers in that time," continued Mihra dully. Her limbs felt leaden, numb. "I may need them soon, if this turns out to be big." Cullen nodded, his jaw set.

"At once, Inquisitor."

"Josephine," said Mihra, rubbing the back of her neck. Josephine stood up and crossed the room, stopping to grasp Mihra's upper arm as Mihra spoke again. "I wonder if you couldn't call back our old friends." Mihra's voice seemed far away.

Josephine smiled softly, squeezing Mihra's arm. "Of course. Varric is back in Kirkwall, and should be simple to reach. The last I heard from Thom—" Josephine stopped suddenly, and Mihra had just enough presence to notice her ambassador's sudden blush. "Well, I believe he was leaving Weisshaupt for Redcliffe, of all places. But that was months ago, I mean, and well—"

Mihra glanced sideways at Josephine, whose blushed deepened. She cleared her throat. "Have you heard from Dorian recently?"

"He was back in Minrathous in his last letter."

"Ah. I shall send my fastest messenger to him, then," Josephine paused, chewing the inside of her lip as she made a note to herself on her ever-present clipboard. "We'd best inform Cassandra as well. Our new Divine may be able to rally us some Chantry forces to boot."

"Fine," said Mihra shortly, her head pounding. "Fine."

"This will work, Inquisitor," said Cullen softly. "We'll find who is behind all this,"

Mihra gave him a stiff nod. "I'll be in the library if I'm needed," she said curtly as she moved to exit the war room. She had no doubt that her advisors would produce answers. But how long would answers take to come, and at what cost?

Author's Note: This plot has been floating around in my head since mid-summer, and damn if it still isn't gone. Updates should be coming weekly, probably on Mondays/Tuesdays, and should be extremely consistent considering I've already got about a 70 page buffer between what I'm posting and what I've written (yeah, it's going to be one of /those/ stories).

First chapter isn't anything special, but if you like what you see feel free to drop a review! Until next week. (Cross-posted on AO3 under the same name.)