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"We stand upon the precipice of change."

Chapter 1

Ashe awoke in the darkness once more, lit only by a tiny, delicate sliver of light, which cut a sharp swath through the dank of her cell. She sniffed once and wiped the grime from her eyes with the back of her hand. Better there was no light at all. Not that she could forget about her surroundings, but any reminder of the world outside was a wicked torment. No, best she remain in the dark, oblivious to the rotten straw spilling out of her mattress, ignorant of the ever-growing puddle of piss on the floor, blinded to the decrepit nature of her existence. Ashe was sure she could fall lower still, although it wouldn't be much of a drop.

She rolled over and stared at the ceiling of her cell, content to actively ignore the sliver of light as one would an unwelcome guest. How long had she been here? The days had blurred together after only so long, and then days had turned into weeks. She sighed heavily and sat up, the irons around her wrists and ankles clanging loudly in the silence.

The notches on the wall numbered forty-three, although the thrice-damned sliver of light was not the best measure. Ashe knew she had gone days without light, both a blessing and a curse, and while she had tried to keep track of the days, she was certain her number was off. By how much, though, was the question. She scratched another notch into the stone, the monotonous activity granting her little respite, and only for a moment, and then she was done.

Another day. Another notch. She closed her eyes again.

This day, however, differed. Ashe's eyes snapped open in the dark as distant voices echoed down the corridor. She heard the rats scatter as they did when the guards approached, but something was off. It wasn't meal time. The guards never came down to the dungeons during daylight. Ashe tense in anticipation, a myriad of scenarios racing through her mind. She heard scuffling in the other cells, certain their inhabitants felt as she did. And while she was curious about their activity, she also recognized that even the slightest hint of hope in her hollow existence could be devastating. Ashe closed her eyes once again and like the sliver of light, attempted to ignore the voices in the hall.

Despite her best attempts, it didn't work. The voices grew ever louder, punctuated by an occasional burst of laughter. Ashe did not know these men. She did not recognize the cadence of their footsteps, or the timbre of their voices. She did not know their purpose – did not want to – because the thought that they might be coming to release her was almost more than she could bear.

But still the voices grew louder and Ashe covered her ears and tucked her chin to her knees. She cursed the light, cursed the Maker, and cursed the voices, cursed the key in the lock and the creak of the hinges as her door opened.

"Oy, this one's gone mad, she 'as." The pot-bellied guard dressed in Chantry livery nudged his fellow and as the other stuck his torch into the cell. "Andraste's tits it stinks in here."

Ashe heard a muffled grunt as one guard socked the other in the gut. "Stow it. We got our orders. Get her up and let's get going. I hate coming down here."

The pot-bellied guard grunted as he reached under Ashe's arms and hoisted her up unceremoniously. She stood, wobbly at first and nearly fell to the floor when the guard shoved her out the door. Ashe caught herself on the opposite wall, the stone cool and clean compared to those in her cell. She followed the two guards, trudging through the dim hallways as the irons on her ankles rubbed against her already raw skin. She enjoyed the pain. It was a welcome distraction from the blossoming anxiety in her head.

The going was slow, made worse by the pot-bellied guard and his vulgar attempts at humor. The other guard appeared uninterested in his commentary, snorting with humor or possibly disdain. Ashe was unable to tell. He would look back at her from time to time, eyeing her cuffs, the twitch of his nose almost imperceptible. Ashe guessed he was familiar with her sort of punishment, although she doubted he had ever endured its like. Either way, she cared little, focusing her attention on putting one foot in front of the other. It seemed hours before they exited the dungeons and that, in and of itself, was torture.

The pot-bellied guard affixed the torch to the wall while the other opened the door. White light spilled into the dank passage and Ashe shut her eyes tight against it. She stumbled again as the guard pushed her through the door, although this time there was no wall to catch her. The pain was white hot and blinding as any light. She smelled the sharp tang of blood barely visible in her hazy vision.

"Idiot. Now look what you did."

"Oy, it's not my fault she can't walk."

Ashe struggled to stand, shrugging off the guard's assistance.

"Leave me be," she hissed through gritted teeth. "You've helped enough."

"As you say." He stepped back to give her space while his pot-bellied comrade snorted and spit off to the side.

Ashe had seen their like before and was as unimpressed by them then as she was now. Such men were usually uneducated, rarely fit for combat, and followed their orders with only the minimum amount of effort required. They were thugs in uniform and it irked Ashe to no end that she was reduced to such as these for an escort. She had fallen low indeed.

Ashe squinted against the sunlight as her eyes slowly adjusted, but the pain remained. It was still bright outside, but it was as it should be during midday. Ashe sighed, recognizing that winter had passed and spring was budding. Had it been so long?

A burst of green decorated a young tree to her right, while creeping vines covered the walls to her left. She recognized this place having been brought here only months before. It had been a dull thing then, the carpet of dead leaves trampled under the guards' feet. The sky had been overcast and grey. A storm was on the air. It was a stark contrast to the scene that greeted her today.

"Knight Captain?"

Ashe turned her attention back to the guards. It seemed that at least one of them knew who she was and she pushed aside her rising ire.

"We need to be on our way."

Ashe nodded at the guard and forced her body to remember pride. She felt the trail of blood creep down the side of her face, the pain of her fall still fresh in her mind.

"Let's be off then."

The guards led Ashe across the courtyard, into the keep, and through a series of twisting passages. Her head throbbed with the activity, but she was still grateful to be out of her cell despite whatever she may face. Ashe's mind began to race once more, and she fought to filter out the numerous nonsensical scenarios that plagued her imagination. She would face what was to come, whatever that may be. When they reached their destination, however, it was the last thing Ashe had expected.

Atop the mountain of stairs she had just climbed was a solid oak door, unadorned save for simple iron embellishments. She frowned slightly as her racing mind came to a halt. The guards opened the door for her and she shuffled in. The pot-bellied guard grunted as he knelt down to unlock the irons about her ankles while the other removed the second pair. Ashe rubbed her naked wrists as the guards left, wincing slightly as the doors thundered shut behind her. She was alone in an unassuming room for an unknown reason. She sighed heavily and wondered.

"I would thank you for coming, but by I know you weren't given a choice."

Ashe turned toward the voice. A petite woman leaned out from an oversized chair and tossed another log onto the fire. It crackled merrily in response, the twisting flames throwing odd shadows across her face. She seemed smaller than Ashe remembered, her face drawn, eyes shadowed.

"It has been a while, Excellency."

"I see your memory is still intact."

Ashe cocked an eyebrow at her tone. "How could I forget that it was the Divine who failed to lift a finger when I was sentenced – sentenced for the very mission she assigned me?"

"No," she met Ashe's eyes without hesitation or a hint of remorse. "No I suppose you wouldn't forget that."

Ashe shifted, her bare feet aching from the walk. "What do you want? I'm in no mood for games."

Justinia V sat back in her chair, her lips creased into a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. "I have a mission for you."

Ashe snorted. She had learned many things during her stay in the dungeons, most of which were used to keep madness at bay, but she had not been gone so long as to grow desperate in the face of such hypocrisy. Surely the Divine had her reasons for such a bold request, but Ashe was hardly in the mood to tolerate her orders. Better that she gorge herself on fresh air before trudging back to the dungeons and avoid the infinite pitfalls of politics, for there were few other reasons for a figure of such import to require her aid. However, as was often the case, practicality won out.

"I was prevented from completing my last mission. What makes you so sure that won't happen again?"

The Divine remained still, the flickering shadows of the fire doing little to hide the interest on her face. "There will be some who object to your release, but at present, are of little consequence."

"You mean you're going to ignore them and do what you want anyway," Ashe spat.

"To put it bluntly, yes."

Ashe snorted again. It was as she thought. "What's the mission?"

The other woman leaned forward ever so slightly, her robes rustling as she clasped her hands together. "Ferelden."

The former knight captain cocked an inquiring eyebrow, but said nothing.

"I have reports that both the Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall have gone missing – vanished - and not one of my agents have been able to discover their whereabouts."

"I'm no tracker." Ashe shifted, the warmth of the fire waking the ache in her bones.

"No." The Divine tilted her head as if studying her. "No that's not what I need at all. I need you on the periphery."

That caught Ashe's attention. "To do what, exactly?"

"Both Hawke and the Warden were well-known for performing great feats of heroism as well as leaving a path of destruction in their wake. They left their stamp on the land and I need your keen eye to examine those effects – the lasting impressions that they left."

Ashe frowned. This was not a typical order of the Divine, but something else. Something more.

"The queen has agents in Ferelden and the Free Marches. Surely they would be more suited to such a thing than I."

Justinia V shook her head, her features creasing slightly as if in thought. "No. Court politics would preclude any sort of objective assessment. As I'm sure you're aware, the Game has become even more treacherous since the Grand Duke's coup attempt and even Her Highness must play it in order to keep her throne." The small woman shook her head again. "No, this is a matter for the Church, for the safety of the lands and the peasants who work it. I need an unbiased measure of the current climate, for I fear the coming storm may be worse than we ever imagined."

Ashe shifted her weight to the other foot and took stock of the woman before her. She seemed swallowed by her robes, as if she subsisted on uncertainly alone. The shadows under her eyes bespoke of sleepless nights, clouded by worry. Ink stained her fingers, her nails short and broken from countless correspondence. She was dressed in the finery of the land's most powerful leader and yet the weight of that finery held her more a prisoner than any dungeon.

"I accept."

The Divine sighed heavily, as if she had been expecting a different answer. "Very well. It is doubtful the roads will remain safe for even messengers of the Chantry, so the pigeons have been made available to you."

Ashe nodded in agreement. She'd not sent reports by air before, but she was familiar with the concept. The Chantry's pigeons were trained and bred to carry messages, but they were few, their numbers dwindling in recent years.

"And one other thing – " Justinia V held up her hand to forestall the protest surely on Ashe's lips. "After you finish your work in Ferelden, you will report to Grand Inquisitor Vitomir. His keep is north of Tantervale – you will see its location marked on your map."

A frown crossed Ashe's face yet again. "I'm not to report to you directly?"

The smaller woman shook her head and handed Ashe her orders, a silver medallion hidden between the folds of a map. "No. Inquisitors do not answer to the Chantry."

Her frown deepened as the realization struck Ashe. She turned the medallion over in her dirty palms, a single sword sheathed in an eye of flame, its edges flickering with the light of the fire. It was only a small piece of jewelry cast with common metal, but the implications of wearing such an ornament left Ashe mildly uncomfortable. Had she known what awaited her, fleeing to the dungeons might have been an alternative worth greater consideration.

The Divine remained silent, studying Ashe's reaction. "Do you have questions regarding your orders?"

"Where can I go to wash up?"

Justinia V smiled in acknowledgement. "Your gear is in the barracks and the washrooms made available to you."

Ashe nodded, slipping the medallion around her neck and tucking it into her filthy tunic. "Is that all you have for me?"

"Yes."

"Then, Excellency, I take my leave."

The Divine stood as Ashe turned on her heel. "Ratimir awaits you by the barracks entrance when you're ready to depart."

Ashe halted at her words. "We leave today."

"As you say, Inquisitor."

o O o

Ashe pushed the heavy oak door open, the daylight spilling into her eyes and blinding her momentarily. A dark shadow stood near the entrance, and as her eyes adjusted, the corner of her lips quirked upward in a rare smile. Ratimir, still as the stone carvings dotting the courtyard, towered over her. The grip of a massive two-handed sword peaked out over his right shoulder, forging an even more imposing figure. To Ashe, though, his shadow was a familiar comfort and much missed in her captivity. She strode over to him with purpose, perched her hands on the hilts of the daggers on her hips, and met his gaze appraisingly.

He grunted in greeting, the stubble on his chin already starting to shadow his rugged features. Ashe studied him a moment longer, noting with mild curiosity a jagged new scar, then turned toward the eastern gates. She slung her saddlebags over her shoulder and headed on her way, Ratimir falling into step beside her.

From a distant window the Divine observed their silent reunion, recognizing even from such range the ties that bound them. They exited the city together, saddling their mounts and riding out as if not a single day had passed between them. Such companionship was both a boon and a curse, and the Divine truly hoped for Ashe it was the former. However, only time would tell if the her faith held true.

She sighed as the breeze ruffled her robes and her vision of the two riders dwindled to nothing. A light shuffling in the shadows caught her attention and Justinia V remembered she was not alone.

"Excellency? Does something trouble you?"

The Divine kept her eyes glued to the horizon. "I fear what is to come, Sister. I fear that in my attempt to quell the approaching maelstrom, I have only provided more wood for the fire. I worry for what is to come."