Chapter II: Introducing the Inquisitor

Inquisitor Trevelyan has a knack for talking to himself, and a weakness for women in distress. Don't worry, he's not always like this. It's the Red Lyrium. Mostly.


Do you know what I hate most about Emprise du Lion? No, it's not the fact that it's an Orlesian settlement, although… that doesn't help.

Honestly? It's the snow. There's just so much fucking snow. And ice. It's everywhere – it gets everywhere: in your bedroll, in your boots, in your breeches – and it's not the fluffy stuff I can scoop up and throw at Sera when she complains I'm getting too big for my britches. I blame it on her cookies and custard pies.

Now, where was I?

Ah, yes: snow.

You see, we Free Marchers rarely get snow. We get gale-force winds, thunder storms and the occasional flash flood, but no snow. It's just too hot. Ferelden, however, gets so much snow it's unbelievable. But at least their snow is clean. No, I'm not complaining about their dogs – Mabari are rather sweet, actually – I'm complaining about magic. During winter, Lake Calenhad freezes over and the closer you get to Kinloch Hold the more fucked up the snow and ice feels. It's like it's been… embedded with magic. The Tower was abandoned after the Fifth Blight – because demons – and the mages took over Soldier's Peak.

For those of you who don't know (where have you been, living in the Deep Roads?) Soldier's Peak was the Headquarters of the Grey Wardens. It was abandoned after Sophia Dryden's death, then the Hero of Ferelden decided to take a looksee and found it inhabited by, you guessed it: demons! It was in a far better state that Kinloch Hold, though, and the base is big enough to accommodate both the mages and Templars, as well as their families. How do I know? I used to live there.

I'm sorry, I keep going off topic. I had a point, I promise. What was it…? Er, snow, ice, magic. Yes!

The itching! Magic itches.

What? It's funny? Are you a Seeker? A Templar? No, I didn't think so. Now, pay attention. This is important.

Magic, by its very nature, cannot be created or destroyed. It's always been there and it always will be. It's a type of energy that only mages, Spirits and Demons can use. Now, the power of the mage, and the strength of their connection to the Fade, determines how strong their magic is. The itching sensation is created by their aura. The more powerful the aura, the harder it is to ignore the itch.

Vivienne, for example, has a very itchy aura. Very itchy. Dorian's is more like... duelling a Chevalier with a red hot poker. Red. Hot.

Some mages have mastered the ability to manipulate their magic so that, instead of having sandpaper scrub across your skin, it feels like silk sliding between your fingers. Typically, Demons don't have refined auras (the exceptions being Pride, Desire and Envy. Don't ask). Spirits, on the other hand, do. Lyrium is… hard to explain. It's like drinking the finest, most exquisite wine. That's why you get lyrium addicts. They're fancy alcoholics, but the side effects are ten times worse. Um... Make that a hundred. Poor Cullen.

Red Lyrium, however, is like – like trying to force coals from Harritt's forge down your throat. The itch becomes a burn and the desire to put it out, to… quench the flames, becomes all you can think about. You end up thirsting for the very stuff that will kill you! It's harder for Templars to resist because they know what lyrium tastes like. They know it's cold and calming like nothing else.

Why am I babbling on about all this? I told you: it's important. Emprise du Lion has been forced into a perpetual winter with itchy ice and snow, and burning Red Lyrium that sings – yes, magic sings – to anyone and everyone within its grasp, which is growing. Fast. Red Templars have been harvesting the stuff like Elfroot (seriously, though, the little buggers are everywhere like… little green nugs) and more than half of the villages have been kidnapped to serve as slave labour.

I figured Dorian and Vivienne - sorry, Madame de Fer - would probably want to sit this one out, even if they're too prideful - polite - to say it. I was glad when Solas volunteered to come. Varric wouldn't take no for an answer; Bull, Sera and Cole hate the stuff as much as I do (Red Lyrium, not Elfroot, although it is a close second, yuck, disgusting stuff) and Cassandra knows how much this shit creeps me out, so... I hope her books are enough to keep her occupied. And another thing –

"Maxwell!"

Cue comical jump because: holy shit did she scared me! "Maker's breath, Cassandra! Are you trying to scare me half to death?" My heart's beating so fast it's unreal. I can feel it pounding through my chest plate.

"You were humming."

"I was… humming?"

No, I'm pretty sure I was talking to myself. Or you, whoever you are. Hello! Oh, and by the way, my name's Max Trevelyan, but everyone just calls me the Herald of Andraste. No, don't you start! And if you'd like to keep your tongue, don't call me Maxwell. Cassandra only gets away with because… well, she's Cassandra. Duh.

"Let's call it a day," Varric sighed.

"But it's not even dusk yet," I frowned, raising my eyes to the horizon. You know, if you ignored all the Red Lyrium, the view is actually pretty nice. "And we still have a job to do."

"Inquisitor –"

"No, Solas. Those villages need rescuing. Maker only knows how long they've been out there. We can't abandon them. I won't abandon them. Just keep me distracted. Varric! Tell us a story. You still haven't told me how Hawke defeat the Arishok."

Talk about Hawke, and Varric gets this misty-glow in his eyes. I've always wondered, but I'm too polite to ask. Cassandra, of course, hangs on his every word about the Champion.

"I would very much like to see the battle for myself, given your nature for embellishment, Master Tethras."

"You mean lies."

"I would never lie about Hawke, Seeker. Now, you all know the Arishok killed the Viscount. Hawke arrived with Guard Captain Aveline, Fenris and myself when…"


Just to point out, this scene happened just prior to Chapter 1.

Catch up with the action in Chapter 3.