He hadn't expected Cassandra to bring the lone survivor of the Conclave explosion back to the scene of the crime. Everyone else was dead, turned into the charred remains of what had once been hundreds of templars, mages, and Chantry sisters. Divine Justinia had perished with those in the temple leaving the Chantry without a leader. Seeker Cassandra and Spymaster Leliana were scrambling to pull together the Inquisition of old, one that would help restore order to Thedas. Samson hadn't voiced his own worries concerning the Inquisition, but he knew that others would for him. Most notably, Chancellor Roderick who seemed intent on making everything difficult for the Seeker.

"Samson?" Cassandra's voice called out, catching him off guard.

The demon attacked and the former templar barely ducked the well aimed swipe. He turned to plunge his greatsword into its back when a burst of lightning blinded him. He was too late to cover his eyes. The smell of burnt flesh filled his nostrils and choking, Samson turned his head from the scent. The sounds of battle had ended, but his eyes still burned. Grumbling, the warrior pulled off a gauntlet and rubbed the spots from his eyes. When he opened them again, he was staring at the disgruntled expression on Cassandra's face.

"May I help you?" He asked, putting on his most charming smile, but knowing it wouldn't work on Pentaghast. She was far too high-ranking for the likes of him.

With a sigh, Cassandra waved towards the bodies on the ground around them. "Do you know how many we've lost?"

Samson followed her hand and saw it was more than he had hoped. The smile fell from his face. "Maker's breath, how are we supposed to continue like this? We're fighting demons, Cassandra. Not a war."

"This may very well turn into a war." The Seeker responded, looking weary. It had been a long time since either of them had slept well and he wanted to quip about how they could spend it together, but he held his tongue. Now was clearly not the time. "If the breach isn't closed, the amount of demons we'll have to fight will be astronomical."

"How do you propose we do that? I doubt the templars will want anything to do with us because of my history running mages out of Kirkwall."

"The mages then." Cassandra replied without skipping a beat. "Honestly, it doesn't matter which side helps, as long as one of them does."

"I might be able to speak to Fiona. She is leading the rebel mages in Redcliffe." Samson rubbed his forehead, not too keen on the idea of seeking help anywhere outside of the Inquisition, but knowing that he wasn't running the show this time. Cassandra was a capable woman. He just had a hard time trusting other people after the templars had dumped him on the street.

"We'll worry about that when we can catch our breath. I need to introduce you to someone." Cassandra turned away from him and walked towards a small group of people that had gathered a few feet away.

Samson cocked his head slightly and watched as she walked. There were many things he liked about the Seeker, but the fact that she had a nice ass was his favorite. He moved after her and wasn't surprised to see Solas, the elven apostate that he had found a few weeks back, was still hanging around. Then there was Varric Tethras. The dwarf was always one for a story and he seemed to have landed in the midst of the biggest one yet.

Then there was the fourth member of their little party. He was an elf that Samson had never seen before, although his coloring reminded him of that broody elf that Hawke used to hang around with back in Kirkwall. This one, however, didn't look at all broody, but instead, seemed genuinely interested in what was happening.

"Commander, this is the prisoner." Cassandra's face was stoic, as was usual with the beautiful warrior, but her face couldn't hide her uncertainty at having another apostate in her presence. Samson liked to see the woman rattled. She was still only human after all. "He can close the rifts."

This was a surprise. Certainly the last thing the former templar had expected. "Close the rifts? How?"

Cassandra lifted the prisoner's hand, showing a deep, red scar branding his palm.

"A scar?" Samson asked, a laugh on his lips. "How is a scar going to save Thedas?"

Cassandra frowned deeply, but it wasn't she who responded. The elf stepped forward, his waist length snowy hair in a braid hung over his shoulder. The templar met a pair of determined emerald green eyes.

"The scar you speak of, ser, has the magic of the breach. It can close the rifts, I assure you."

Samson laughed, unable to help his reaction. "Ser? Did you hear that Cassandra? He called me 'ser'."

Cassandra let out a disgusted noise.

"My name is Samson, Commander of the Inquisition's armies. I'm as far from ser as any man could possibly get." The templar watched as the elf blushed, his bronze skin showing red a lot better than he'd expected. He took the brief moment to inspect the prisoner's face. White tattoos showed a Dalish heritage, something that interested Samson. Why was a Dalish mage at the Conclave? With a smirk in the flushed elf's direction, Samson asked, "What's your name?"

"Desya Lavellan, first to Clan Lavellan's Keeper, Deshanna."

"Keeper?"

Solas stepped forward, using his staff as a cane. It made him look even more like an old man than the bald head did. "She is the clan's leader. A mage who looks after the elves of Clan Lavellan. Desya is her apprentice."

Desya flashed a grateful smile to Solas, his ears still pink from his earlier embarrassment.

Cassandra sighed loudly before turning to the others. "We do not have time to discuss this. Come. We must finish closing the rift here."

She lead the way, not even sparing a glance in Samson's direction. Varric, with his trusty crossbow on his back, followed her, a word not spoken from his otherwise chatty lips. Solas was next, clearly needing distance from the former templar.

Desya began to follow then paused. He glanced at Samson curiously. "Next time I cast a spell, close your eyes."

As the elf hurried after his companions, Samson let out a laugh.