Trevelyan sat down by the fire and stretched his aching legs with a sigh. It's been a long, tedious march from Skyhold. Fortunately they already passed Emprise Du Lion. The climate became milder from day to day as they approached the Emerald Graves, so there was no more risk of freezing to death in the night.

"What's up with the sour expression, Your Inquisitorialness?" Varric asked while roasting a couple of nugs on a spit and pouring oil over them from time to time.

Trevelyan gave him a weary smile. "Nothing really, just contemplating life."

The dwarf looked at the men with a knowing expression. "Hmm, well … I too miss Dorian, Inquisitor. There is nothing wrong about saying it out loud. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on, well, I have two."

Trevelyan chuckled lightly, then suddenly shook his head. "I knew he would leave for his homeland eventually, he's said it himself. I was prepared mentally, I think. But it's not just about him, Varric. The lines of our companions are thinning out," admitted Trevelyan as he met the kind watchful gaze of his friend. "Cassandra is now the Divine, Dorian is fighting his own battles in Tevinter and Solas disappeared without a trace. It means we lost a fearsome warrior and two excellent mages. The Inquisition cannot live up to its ideals without outstanding people who represent it."

Varric put the nugs aside and moved closer to Trevelyan. "Then it's high time to keep an eye for new recruits. Furthermore I see an excellent mage right before me."

Trevelyan huffed and rolled his eyes. "You don't need to try comforting me Varric. I'm merely listing the facts we'll have to deal with. Also, I am confident in my abilities as a healer and enchanter. But I cannot dominate the battlefield with raw magic like Dorian or Solas did. Not yet at least."

"Well, we still have our Iron Lady."

"Maker, no!" the Inquisitor complained. "I always return with headaches from missions with her. It's like going into battle with my grandmother! I've no clue how Bull bears with her snobbish comments and annoying voice. Her lectures could tear the veil just by themselves!"

Varric chuckled amused."Must be one of these qualities which come with the Qun," he commented and tended to roasting nugs once again.

Sometime later Blackwall and Iron Bull came back with more firewood. The qunari gave a joyful grunt as he inhaled the pleasant smell of food.

"Varric, I could marry you on the spot just to keep you as my personal cook."

"Ha-ha. Unfortunately my heart is already taken. Besides, I thought dwarves aren't your type."

"Everyone who can make me drool is my type," said the qunari as he gave Varric a meaningful smirk.

Trevelyan watched his friends with a grin, while Blackwall tried his best to ignore the verbal exchange.

They enjoyed their meal in silence until a scout appeared with a letter.

"A message from Skyhold, Your Worship." The woman handed a small scroll to the Inquisitor.

"Any good news?" Iron Bull asked while chewing on a greasy nug hunch.

"Hardly. A couple of Lilianas spies went missing while following a trace of the young Lord Mainserai. Also, Cullen has settled a meeting point with his soldiers in the Emerald Graves." Trevelyan folded the letter and tucked it away. "Let's eat up quickly and go to bed. We need to restore our strength for another long day of marching."


It was a warm, starlit night. A faint sheen from the ocher moon fell over the camp. Sleepy figures of soldiers, men and women, were strolling around, unaware that they were being watched.

"They have moved here recently. It is just as one of the captured scouts has told us: Around forty shemlen from the Inquisition, well-armed," spoke Abelas' Second in the ancient elven speech to his leader. They stood on one of the thicker brunches high above the ground. "These shemlen seem to have settled for a longer period of time."

Abelas felt a hint of distaste while overlooking them. To him those humans resembled a shoal of ants, unaware of neither the past nor the future, following someone's orders blindly while moving out of instinct through their short lives.

"Shall we prepare an assault?"

"Not jet," answered Abelas quietly.

Truth be told, he did had a little hope as he first met the small group of the Inquisition. Even so they shamelessly looted all the treasures on their path, they did not try to break the ancient temple rules and attempted to see reason in the end. At least most of them.

But seeing this larger group now, boldly roaming the Dales, challenged the patience of the ancient Sentinel.

"Keep observing, report immediately if you notice any changes," Abelas commanded at last.

Then he blended into the greenery, only to reappear fully at the foot of the large elven ruin the Sentinels currently used as their retreat.

His First, a female Sentinel spellweaver, was already waiting for him. Her hard-featured face did not display any emotions, though her voice sounded rougher than usual as she addressed the Sentinels leader.

"We should let them know they are not welcome here," she stated evenly.

"I understand you, lethallan. But they haven't done anything wrong until now. If they push along soon we don't have to reveal our presence."

His First responded with an obedient nod and retreated, leaving Abelas standing alone in between the silent moss-grown wolf sculptures.


Several days later Lord Trevelyan woke up to a strange noise. Instantly alert he reached for his staff. Recalling some stun and protective spells in his mind, the Herald crept out of his tent. He momentarily froze in awe as he discovered the source of the sound.

A group of hallas was roaming around the camp. Their white fur and twisting horns were sparkling in the rising sun, making Trevelyan blink a couple of times and rub his sleepy eyes.

"Andraste's holly ass, they are eating our food!" called Varric as he emerged from his tent, gesturing furiously at the animals, determined to drive them away. "To be correct, they already ate everything we had!"

"Well, … that's unfortunate," commented Blackwall as he too discovered the state of their camp.

"I'll catch them and roast the one who ate my nug pie!" roared Iron Bull angrily.

"Calm down everyone," reasoned Trevelyan, stepping on the grass that was now covered with bread crumbles. "You can't just eat a halla Bull, they are sacred to the Dalish."

"And I do worship my nug pie! I was thinking about it as I went to bed and it was the first thing that came to my mind in the morning. Those glowing beasts just ate it! How is that fair?"

The companions' mood remained gloomy until they were packed up and back on the road. Trevelyan continued observing the surroundings as they ventured forward. A couple hours later they noticed the subtle change around them. The fresh air carried a heavier scent of flowers with a hint of moss, that made the head spin a little. Even their steps seemed to become lighter on the soft ground. Now and then some little animals hushed between their feet.

The group came to a halt before a large stone sculpture of a wolf. Taking a deep breath the Herald said, "Welcome to the Emerald Graves."

"On your left side you can see trees and if you turn your attention to the right you can see, uh oh, more trees," Varric commented sarcastically.

"This place always gives me goose bumps," Blackwall whispered, looking around.

"Relax, Blackwall," said the qunari and gave the warrior an encouraging clap on the back, sending him a meter forward. "Nothing more than a few refugees along the road and lots of good lumber."

"I would be careful with that lumber part if I were you," the man answered, hastily regaining his posture. "I've this strange … sensation, maybe we are being watched?"

The companions fell into silence, each of them taking in the surroundings with practiced awareness.

Trevelyan couldn't spot any foreign presence. The sensation he felt right now was a pleasant one, but it also made his reflexes slower and his senses duller. A boon and bane.

"I do feel kind of different. A little funny …"

Varric smirked, "Hey Tiny, stop with that butt-ogling. You are making our companions nervous."

Blackwall's jaw went slack. "You do what?!"

The qunari leaned onto the statue with a joyful grin. "Nah, I'm just appreciating the sight of my lovely company from time to time. But can you really blame me? It has been weeks since, … uhm, the last decent distraction."

Blackwalls expression turned disturbingly dark and Varric just shook his head, while the Inquisitor was completely oblivious of their conversation. His mind seemed to become clouded. He cupped the lithic jaw of the wolf and stared at him with wide green eyes.

"Once you were a companion of an Emerald Knight. A Knights Guardian, running alongside your elf, fighting together, sharing your food and protecting him. Now you are here all alone, lost and forgotten. I am sorry and it makes me sad."

"Well, now I feel even more hungrier," grunted Iron Bull and urged everyone back on the way.

The walk to the next camp was more silent, occupied with observation of the beautiful but dangerous landscape of the dailish forest. They came by animal sculptures and other remains of the former Emerald March now and then.

Meanwhile Lord Trevelyan was humming a tune while walking zigzag for every herb that caught his eye.

"Tell me, Inquisitor," sounded the low voice of the qunari somewhere behind the mage, "Not that it's my business or anything, but what precisely are you gonna do with tons of Embrium?"

Trevelyan looked over his shoulder and gave Iron Bull a sweet smile.

"Hmm, dunno. But they are bright and shiny, beautiful, aren't they?" he answered sheepishly. "I shall make a wreath of these flowers, for everyone!"

The mage couldn't see the looks his companions exchanged behind his back. He kept hopping from herb to herb, humming and calling "Gotta harvest them all!".

"Uhm, Tiny … ," Varric whispered, "I hope you haven't given our human some of this strong qunari brew. He looks a bit drunk to me."

"Nah, I wouldn't do that on a mission. Maybe he is just happy about something."

"That stage of happy you can only get with a decent portion of lyrium. Maybe he ate some wrong berries?"

"Would make sense."

The three companions watched dubiously as the Inquisitor was spinning around, became lightheaded and fell into the grass.

Varric came to stand over Trevelyan with an expression, that was partly amused and partly worried.

"Dear Inquisitor, tell us what was the last thing you-"

Varric wasn't able to finish his sentence as the mage pulled him down into a tight hug.

"Awww, you are the most adorable little dwarf I ever met! Always wanted to tell you that."

Varric tried to free himself, but the struggle was useless unless he risked to hurt Trevelyan. As it wasn't enough, the mage rubbed his cheek on Varric's, telling him he was a good boy.

Iron Bull and even Blackwall fell into hysterical laughter.

"Hey Varric, are you doing researches for your next book?" the qunari called happily.

"Uh-uh, better help me up you big old moose!"

Iron Bull snatched Varric away from the Inquisitor in one arm-swing, setting him safely on the ground beside.

"We need to reach the next camp before the dusk", Blackwall stated after he wiped the tears from laughter.

Varric noted, that it was probably the first time he saw the older man laugh full heartedly. Still, the price was too damn high. The dwarf decided to have a serious talk with the Inquisitor once he went back to normal.

The qunari set the mage up and grabbed his sleeve tightly, continuing their journey through the Emerald Graves.

Lord Trevelyan felt drowsy, as in some kind of a trance. For a short period of time he felt a moment of fear as the idea of possibly being possessed by a spirit or worse, a demon, crossed his clouded mind. But then his favorite little dwarf handed him a mug of steamy nug soup and any discomfort vanished once again. The big-horned moose-man covered him with a blanket and after several long stares and pinches he was left alone.

He drank the warm liquid and drifted into sleep.

Trevelyan jolted awake and found himself surrounded by darkness. The campfire was already out, familiar faces deep in slumber.

The mage was still clouded by strange sensations. He crawled from under the blanket as he recognized the figure of the dwarf, sleeping in a sitting position. Trevelyan was up to snuggle next to him, but a bright sound caught his attention.

He sat up, listening attentively. Chimes?

Without further consideration he rose and went after the sound.

This sound's so nice, he thought as he strode through the murky forest. His legs felt numb and unsteady, especially on the soft moss ground. His vision was like a blur of mixed dark blue and violet colors. Once he got distracted by glowing fireflies, until his ears picked the chimes again and he continued his path. The sound guided him deeper into the woods.

He was unaware of where he was already to begin with. Now he partly walked, partly crawled only towards the sound. His hands soon became bruised and bloody from the now rocky path, but the pain felt so dull and distant in his mind, that it didn't really bother him.

As a small river appeared before him, he attempted to pass it upright. After a few shaky steps he stumbled over a root and fall facedown into the water, gurgling his way into unconsciousness.