Simple, yet artful, dark blue tattoos framed the face. Silver eyes peered out from behind a few stray strands of raven hair.

Who is this man? Is he a lover, a husband, or a father? Is he a man, a monster, or a mage? Is he a warrior, a hero, or a leader? Who is Tempest Amell? Is he what others see him as, or is he himself?

Tempest let out a short huff, and turned away from the mirror. His name was part of the problem. He changed his name upon entering the circle tower at Calenhad all those years ago. It was a name that brought only pain, so he shed that name and took Tempest. Primal magic, specifically lightning, was his specialty at the time. The name stuck.

That was all in the past though. The name presented new problems. It wasn't the name itself; it was what it stood for. Tempest Amell was a powerful archdemon-slaying mage who didn't die when he was supposed to. He didn't flinch at duty, and he did not compromise. He was a force of nature, and everyone knew it.

He couldn't go anywhere. Sideways glances, whispers, and silent judgments were everywhere. Not to mention constantly being stopped to regale his tale. For years these things hadn't bothered him, but the more time he spent in public, the more it drove him mad.

Morrigan understood, as she too didn't care for the company of common people. When his quest to stop the Calling came to a close, he returned to the Korcari Wilds with Morrigan and Kieran. It was a quiet life, for once.

The mornings were spent lazily over breakfast where the topic of magic was often discussed as Kieran showed more potential over time. The hours between breakfast and lunch became an unofficial study time. On occasion, Tempest would spend this time whispering sweet nothings in Morrigan's ear as she would act unimpressed. Lunch was often short, and followed by practice and training. Tempest would take Kieran out to the yard, and help him hone his abilities as Morrigan watched from a wooden bench. However, she would never admit to enjoying the sight. Dinners were quiet meals, and were followed up by tales of Tempest and Morrigan's travels together. Kieran was the only person Tempest enjoyed sharing his stories with; he was his son after all. Once Kieran was asleep, the activities varied from night to night. Some nights it was discussions about the state of the world, others were ponderings of Kieran's future, and some were a haze of passion.

Tempest came to enjoy these quiet days of bliss, and as time wore on he came to believe that maybe the world didn't need him anymore. There were new heroes who were shaping the future. And, in all honesty, he didn't mind the change. He had accepted his retirement from the fields of battle, and the stresses of national diplomacy. He could die happily, content to leave the world to its' inheritors.

Alas, he should have known better.

There was a knock at the door. It was loud, but light enough to be polite. Morrigan raised a brow, looking at Tempest. He stood up, and went to the door. He wasn't sure how to process what he saw on the other side.

There stood a man with dark hair and deep orange eyes. His black clothes walked the line between extravagance and functionality. He pulled back a pointed hood with a semi-armored glove, while his other hand gripped a staff that featured a dragon on the end of it. This man was from the Imperium, no doubt.

"Speak," Tempest said.

"I am Zachariah Volturus. I'm here by the request of the King of Ferelden."

"What do you want?"

"There's something strange going on in the Frostbacks. The king would like you to investigate."

"There's more to it."

"Yes. I, uh, am not sure how to put this. The king would like you to also investigate the Inquisition."

Morrigan spoke over Tempest's shoulder. "The Inquisition should have disbanded."

The Tevinter nodded. "That's the problem. The Inquisition refused to disband. Rather, the Inquisitor refused to disband it. A large number of people have left the Inquisition, but there are people coming in as well. There are several interested parties who would like a group of capable individuals to go inside and investigate."

Tempest raised a brow. "A few parties?"

He nodded. "Fereleden, Orlais, and Tevinter."

Tempest looked over his shoulder at Morrigan. She had her typical annoyed expression.

"Kieran and I will be fine," Morrigan said.

"It's settled then. Tell Kieran to bring my horse around. Wait out here, Tevinter." Tempest disappeared back into the house.

Tempest emerged from the house wearing a simple traveling outfit with a hooded long coat. A great axe slung over his shoulder shone in the sunlight. Morrigan stood in the doorframe behind him as a ferelden forder came around the corner with Kieran pulling its reins. Tempest took the reins and climbed onto the horse.

Kieran looked up at him. "How long will it be this time?"

Tempest grinned. "Not long. I'll be back before you know it. You know the rules. Keep studying, and don't give your mother a hard time."

Kieran nodded. "Right."

Tempest turned his attention to Morrigan. "I'll keep myself alive. You just try to not miss me too much."

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Stop wasting daylight. We will be here when you come back."

The Tevinter mounted a dracolisk and headed down the path. Tempest gave a finally wave to Kieran and Morrigan, and followed the Tevinter. He brought the forder next to the dracolisk, and looked at the man.

"What was your name again?"

"Zachariah Volturus."

"Voltur it is."

"That's fine. What should I call you? Hero? Warden-Commander? Amell? Tempest?"

"Tempest will do. So why is Tevinter concerned with the Inquisition? I understand Orlais and Ferelden."

"Rumors. Just whispers, but it's enough."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Word is Inquisitor Adaar may clear a path for the Qun."

"Oh."

"Indeed."

They continued through the wilds and over the hills, heading to the first part of their mission in the Frostback Mountains.