She sits on the stone wall and watches the troops practice.
She has to admit it's a depressing sight, and she doesn't even know how to use a sword. Green recruits fumble gracelessly with their weapons as they attempt to land a blow on an equally inept opponent, and she wonders why the Commander even bothers. He's there in the centre of the storm, correcting forms and demonstrating proper techniques, but they fall apart as soon as he moves off to the next student. She sees now why he took the loss of the troops at the temple so hard, as even a few more experienced hands would make a huge difference to this untrained mob.
Most are youths dreaming of greatness, bored farm boys who've been caught up the in the Inquisition's noble purpose. Some are fanatic pilgrims, willing to give their lives for the cause. Others, still, are here for her, because they truly believe her Andraste's chosen. While the idea curls nicely around her vanity, she does not believe it herself, though she does not disillusion others of this belief either. She can see the near-worship on their faces when they think she's not watching, and she knows they have faith that she can stop all of this. It's obvious in the way they cede power to her, trusting her to make the right decisions, allowing her to reorganise their lives. For the most part, they're happy to be used.
He is the only one who resists. Commander Cullen, the Inquisition's military advisor, such as they had a military. In truth, Knight-Commander Cullen is a better fit, as the man is templar through and through. He's hated everything about her since they were first introduced, and she takes no little pleasure in flaunting it in his face. She finds herself hating him in return, hating the way he wields honour and valour as weapons and cloaks his own desires in the cloth of righteous ideals. He remains civil enough during discussions at the war table, never quite lowering himself to insult her methods personally, but there are enough barbed comments, raised eyebrows and thinned lips that she knows he thinks he could have done better. She finds it satisfying when Josephine and Lelianna shut his protests down and side firmly with her.
His first problem with her is that she's a mage. Given his templar background, this is not really surprising, though he's not quite crying out for her head. He's cordial to the handful of other mages they've collected at Haven; she presumes this is because most are meek, docile healers, collected where he could keep an eye on them. She, on the other hand, had free reign to wreak havoc on the battlefield, abusing her magic at will to call down the elements. She is a mage and she is out of his control, and it must drive him crazy.
The second is that he has to bite his tongue and take commands from a waifish girl nearly half his age. She has no experience of leading anyone, very little combat experience of any kind, and she's mostly making it up as she goes along. She'd spent so much of her life sequestered in the Circle that the real world is still an alien, bizarre concept. It irritates him that, despite all of her faults, despite all of the cards being stacked against her, she still manages to come out victorious time and time again. Most of the time it is by the skin of her teeth, but Evelyn's found that she draws people to her like a candle. Most, she knows, are attracted to the mark on her hand and the chance to save the world, but others come for more curious reasons. She is capable of being more than charming when she tries, bold and confident in her own allure. Leading is as natural as breathing, and she finds herself collecting a number of powerful companions as she attempts to widen the Inquisition's influence. It's slow going, and she is starting to become sick of playing the errand boy for every stranger they encounter, but the power of the Inquisition is growing day by day. She's also getting stronger, and she likes how it feels. For the first time in her life, she feels important, and she will do whatever it takes to keep her place in the sun.
The third reason has less to do what they are and comes down to who they are. They are both too stubborn and inflexible, incapable of seeing beyond their own world view. They both like being in control, but the templar's drawn the short straw and now has to play second fiddle, advisor to her Herald of Andraste. Check, and mate. He's the honourable knight, doing whatever he can to save lives and help people. She does what she must, consequences be damned, takes the safest option and always looks out for her own skin. He is the Inquisition's golden boy, placed on a pedestal so high that no mortal can reach it, and she hates how unworthy he makes her feel. It makes her sure that her position is not the Maker's work, as the Commander is far more fitting to be Andraste's champion.
She wonders, sometimes, if he hates her for making him question his faith, for making him half believe that she is sent by the Maker.
She refuses to let her insecurities show to anyone else, sweeping around Haven as if the title of Herald was a natural fit. She can't deny that she likes the reverence that comes with it, and she takes advantage of it shamelessly to tumble one of the handsome new recruits. She makes sure that they're seen stumbling through the door of the small cottage she's been given as her personal quarters. It's clear in the dark look that Cullen gives her the next day that he doesn't appreciate her playing with his toys.
She laughs now as she catches the young man staring at her, his ears going pink as she holds his gaze, and watches him parry so badly that his weapon ends up on the floor. She can see Cullen turn at the noise, imagines him swearing, but then he spots her. She waves mockingly with her free hand and expects him to ignore her, but he turns towards her instead and marches over to her spot on the wall. He's probably going to blame her for this as well.
"Herald. Was there something in particular you wanted, or did you just want to distract my soldiers?" He towers over her, but she has faced down far worse. His posture is easy, relaxed, and she wonders what has suddenly made him more comfortable in her presence.
It takes a moment to realise that his confidence is due to the sling on her arm. They'd managed to stumble across a dragon – a dragon! – in the Hinterlands while searching for some farmer's lost druffalo, and despite the immediate retreat, none of her party had managed to avoid injury. She was lucky that she'd suffered nothing more than a dislocated shoulder and bad burns that had hurt like a bitch at the time. She was mostly healed, but she'd wanted another few days of rest before she returned to the field.
He didn't know that though. All he saw was a damaged mage, fangs drawn and no threat to him. While she could use magic one-handed if necessary, even without a weapon, she knew that his templar abilities would give him the edge in a fight. The fact that he could beat her, no contest, ruins her temper, and she regrets coming out here to needle him.
"Commander. I thought I'd come out and see how the new recruits are getting on. I read your last report. You mentioned that you thought they had promise."
It was his turn to scowl now, as he realised she was making fun of him. While some of the men might have talent, it would take years to forge them into a proper fighting force. Evelyn wonders if he ever regrets taking a post with the Inquisition. He'd managed to take control of Kirkwall following the destruction of the Chantry and the fall of the mage Circle, and had then given it up to help lead the Inquisition. It seemed rather a large step down.
"Yes, I'd heard that you were interested in getting to know my men." Disapproval flicked quickly across his face, though he quickly covered it with studious neutrality. "Are you planning on remaining in Haven for long?"
Which was about as close to 'fuck off and do your job' as he'd get. She wanted to strip those manners away and make him say what he really meant.
"No. I'm returning to the Hinterlands tomorrow." She waits a moment, allowing him to look forward to her absence, before dropping the other shoe. "The mages in Redcliffe have invited me to discuss an alliance. It would be rude to keep them waiting."
He stiffens and she knows she's won this round. He'd known about the invitation, but she'd not let him know that she planned on at least investigating it. He argues the case for seeking templar aid whenever they are all together at the war table, and she thinks he is going to launch back into convincing her to turn to them instead. He clearly thinks better of it, and she is disappointed. One on one like this, he would be admitting that she held all the power. It would have made it look like he was begging. He had clearly came to the same conclusion and simply nods at her, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing his frustration.
"I won't keep you then. We both have a lot to get done before tomorrow."
"Maker watch over you," she mouths, mocking him, but he's already out of earshot. Tilting her face to the sky, she enjoys the sun on her face for a few moments. Unfortunately, she does have a lot to get done before they set out tomorrow, and she has wasted enough time irritating the Commander.