A/N: Yay, another long chapter! As always, do leave a review if you like it, or if want to scream incoherently at me.
After the last update I did some revising for the first three chapters so give those a re-read if you haven't already.
Chapter 7: Four Norse gods walk into a bar...
The next morning found us up before the sun. I thought I was getting used to the early mornings, but apparently not. The quality of my sleep had been shit, which immediately affected my mood. We had lot of work to do if we wanted Dennet to give us those horses. Afterwards we would need to return to Haven and eventually travel to meet the few chosen clerics who were willing to give us heretics a chance.
We ate a quick breakfast and we were on our way. This time we headed west, towards the river and hopefully over it.
As we descended the rocky hill next to our campsite, we could see several groups of mages and templars. In the distance stood the ruins of an old castle, and barely a stone's throw away from it was a burning building. The fire was slowly attempting to spread from the wooden structure to the shrubbery surrounding it, although telling by the smoke the surroundings were too wet for the fire to spread any farther. It had rained copiously just days before, so the fields were filled with puddles of rain water.
"Look at this. The apostates have gone mad with power," Cassandra said, indicating to a small group of the mages and templars who were fighting each other just across the clearing from us.
"The templars aren't looking any better, either," Varric pointed out.
We were forced to fight the first group of mages we came across. And then, another group of templars. Behind the area with the templars there was a small campsite, now abandoned. Varric discovered a letter on one of the bedrolls.
We must be ready to fight not only the mages, but those who sympathise with them. Have not the mages blood magic to trick the minds of the unwary? Are not most people as we know them sheep, ready to be led by those who speak with authority? The people must be protected from the mages. It is our right and duty. But those who supply them with lyrium? Those who offer them comfort and food? Those who shirk their duty to supply us a worthy fight? They are sympathisers, who have slain with demons and can only breed abominations, and they must be slain as such. We will wage our war from our camp off the West Road and we will not stop until this world is clean.
The letter was written in a crisp and educated hand. There was no signature.
I showed the letter to Cassandra. She read it with an increasingly frustrated expression on her face.
"Those who would aid them must be slain?" she questioned, "This is madness. The templar order would not stand for this."
"That's why they're called rogue templars, Seeker," Varric pointed out.
"They've abandoned their order and everything it stands for," Cass continued, ignoring Varric's comment. "We must do something to stop them before more people get hurt."
She turned to look at me.
I sighed. "Must we?" I asked, already getting tired of the mage-templar conflict.
"They seem not care who they attack," Solas mused. "For they believe their path is the right one."
"That's a dangerous mindset to have," I agreed and looked to West. "Their camp should be near the waterfall just that way."
Beyond some boulders was another small group of templars.
"Kill the Qunari!" one of them yelled.
I hit him over his head with my maul and he went down like a bowling pin. "Vashot, technically," I muttered and hit him again. By then, the river was within our sights. And so was the templar encampments.
Before we started out attack, I turned to Cassandra and the others. "Do we really have to?"
Cassandra rolled her eyes at my whining.
"This road will not be safe until they're dealt with," Solas said with a frown.
"Stop being so logical," I huffed out. "Or I'm gonna start calling you Spock."
He shot me a confused look, but I shook my head and didn't explain.
They had two templar knights and one templar archer guarding the entrance. We took care of them easily enough, and although we did our best to make as little noise as possible, we were worried they would alert the others.
Farther up the sheer descent of rock was a makeshift wooden wall.
"The templars have secured a position ahead," Cassandra noted.
We snuck inside and split up. There were two archers and one knights standing around, so we each picked our targets and attacked. Solas and I went for the knight, while Varric and Cassandra took out an archer each. Visibility was bad since the walls combined with the rocky terrain made it impossible to see where the rest of the rogue templars were hiding. We were incredibly lucky, because despite the sounds of combat no backup came to their aid.
As we rushed beyond the next set of walls, we came across three templar knights in various states of undress. Some of them looked sweaty and shaky, no doubt suffering from lyrium withdrawal. Their eyes would dart left and right; some of them were muttering to themselves. Poor bastards. The Chantry had done them a huge disservice.
One more archer entered the fight from the far end of the camp.
"Varric, take the archer!" I ordered and swung my maul an entire 360 degrees. It caught two of the knights. One went down, but the other one managed to lift his shield in time.
"Ox-man bastard," he growled at me.
"Fuck you too," I replied and swung again, this time from his left side. There was an opening there, clear as day. He didn't answer after that, for obvious reasons.
After the battle we sat down to catch our breaths and tend to our weapons. There was no injuries, but we all took rejuvenation potions.
"Their supplies will help the refugees," I said, marking the location on the map. It seemed ruthless, but these bastards had deserted their order and planned to kill innocent people for even associating with mages. "Hopefully nobody ransacks the camp before our scouts get here."
"The refugees should be safer on the King's Road now," Cassandra said, pleased.
"We must still deal with the apostates, however," Solas pointed out.
I pointed at cliffs surrounding the camp. "This stone is also rich with iron," I said. "Let's make a note of it on the map as well."
Varric nodded. "Good eye, Feathers. Which reminds me... I saw you handle that templar with the shield. You spotted his opening just like that," he said, snapping his fingers.
I blinked. "Huh," I said, "I guess you're right. I didn't even realise."
Solas chuckled softly. "You have improved in strides in just a matter of days," he said. "It is equally as baffling as it is impressive."
"Thanks," I murmured, not used to such praise. "I'm just sort of going with the flow."
Cassandra eyed me curiously. "They are correct," she said. "Your style of fighting has drastically changed for the better. It's like you've gone from swinging around aimlessly to... well, actually aiming."
"Gosh," I drawled with a grin, "Was I that good before?"
Despite the rejuvenation potion, I was already exhausted by the time we got back on the road and started crossing the bridge. Which by the way was in sore need of repair. One of the rotting boards broke underneath my weight, so I ended up walking in soaking wet boots. The trek up a steep hill wasn't fun in wet shoes, let me tell you.
The Hinterlands. Why do you gotta do this to me, man? Wasn't a bunch of rifts, terror demons and murderous templars enough? Don't even get me started on the bears and wolves.
Speaking of...
We were almost at the Redcliffe Farms when three black wolves attacked us. Eyes glowing green, jaws snapping and mouths frothing, their howls made the hairs at the back of my neck stand up.
"Shit."
One of them ran straight at me. I swung my maul at it, making it cry out and whine. But as soon as it was back on its feet it attacked again. And again. I hate fighting animals, canines especially. It just doesn't feel right. The wolves finally fell one by one and stayed down. I was so done. And it was barely even noon.
"No normal wolf would fight with such determination," Cassandra said.
"The Breach might have driven them mad," Solas speculated, "or perhaps a demon took command of the pack."
I glanced at him. The Dread Wolf himself was speaking of wolves...
He raised an eyebrow, catching me staring at him. I tried to smile despite my worsening mood. "Good theory, maybe we'll check it out later," I said, trying to hide that I had been thinking of his hidden identity again. I really had to stop doing that.
We followed the tiny path farther into the cluster of farms. There was an abandoned house on the right. Then a druffalo enclosure and the stables. At the end of the path we saw a big house plus two smaller buildings, all of them with tattered Ferelden banners hanging in the front. The main building was even adorned with gargoyles depicting proud mabari war hounds.
"This must be the horsemaster," Solas deduced.
We went straight inside, since the door was ajaar.
"So you're the Inquisition, eh?" Dennet greeted us, his hands at his hips. "Hear you're trying to bring order back. It's high time someone did. Never thought it would be one of you big brutes, though."
Wrong fucking thing to say, mate.
"Name's Dennet," he continued, "I served Arl Eamon for thirty years as horsemaster. I hear your Inquisition is looking for mounts."
I smiled at him, a little too widely. "If you want what's best for Redcliffe, you'll provide us horses," I said with my best customer service voice.
"I do want what's best for Redcliffe," Dennet said. "But you've got some work to do first. I can't just send hundred of the finest horses in Ferelden down the road like you send a letter. Every bandit between here and Haven would be on them like flies on crap. You'll have mounts once I know that they won't end up as cold winter's breakfast. My wife Elaina manages the farms, and Bron's in charge of my guards. They'll tell you what they need."
Now, you gotta understand. I was really, really tired.
I looked at him dead in the eye. "No," I said. "I fucking well know what they want. They want watchtowers and for someone to get rid of the wolves, right? Well, bad fucking luck. People will die unless we get those horses, Dennet. Are you willing to take that risk while we run around building watch towers and killing wolves for you? Are you?"
Dennet took a step back. "How did you..."
I took a step forward in response, towering over him. "Give us those horses and I'll make a personal goddamn promise to get you those watchtowers as quickly as we have men to spare. Hell, I'll even go take care of those wolves right away. But we need to get those horses moving towards Haven, now."
Dennet swallowed. "I guess I'll have to take your word for it... I don't know how you knew what we needed, but I'll get you your horses. Just, please, take care of them."
I fell back, my expression softening. "I promise."
Dennet walked off quickly to tell his men the new orders. And when I say he walked, I mean he walked as fast as he could without outright making it to seem like he was running away from the scary Qunari.
"Herald!" Cassandra snapped, "You cannot speak to our allies like that."
"Sorry," I said, dragging a hand down my face. "I'm getting tired of this shit."
"You can be really scary when you want, Feathers," Varric murmured.
"That is no excuse," Cassandra said, frowning. "Stop being childish."
"I know," I groaned out. "It's just... Today everything is getting on my nerves. And the more I think about it, the more I realise that we're losing time. It will take at least four days to travel back to Haven on horseback and depending on how many men we have on us, it will take more than that to get the horses over there. Which means until then, traveling anywhere will be so much slower for everyone. We need those horses."
I sat crosslegged on the floor, taking my boots off. They were still dripping water.
Cassandra hesitated. "We're not in a particular hurry right now," she reminded me, her voice softer than before. "Mother Giselle is traveling to Haven as we speak. Until she gives out those names and we gather enough recognition for the Chantry clerics to agree to meet with us, we cannot enter Val Royeaux without being attacked on sight."
I pursed my lips, thinking. "Yeah, but when they do agree we need to travel to Val Royeaux and back, plus god knows where." I knew where, of course. The Storm Coast, Crestwood... We fucking well needed those mounts beforeCorypheus attacked Haven.
"One thing at a time," Solas said wisely. "Do not worry about the future yet."
I took couple of deep breaths. "Right. Let's go handle those wolves, and then we can get the hell out of dodge."
On our way out, I noticed a book on Dennet's table. It was Hard in Hightown by Varric Tethras. I really wanted to read his books. I made a mental note to ask if there were any in Haven's library when we got back.
We decided to close the rifts near Dennet's farm first. There were two; one in the river canyon and one on the hill just behind the farm itself. We owed it to him and his farmhands to make the place safe so that Dennet could safely send over his horses to the Inquisition. Besides, I already felt bad for snapping at him.
Following a path between two fields, we walked past another large building. This was in a considerable worse condition than the others, it was basically falling apart. From there the path split into two different directions. We turned left and there, just behind some trees and a huge boulder was the first rift.
I sneezed.
Cass, Solas and Varric turned to look at me.
"What?" I asked. "They make my nose all tingly."
Solas looked intrigued. "That must be the effect of the veil's lingering magic in the area."
"Whatever it is, we better get rid of it," Varric commented.
We approached the rift and it expanded, spitting out two terror demons and a single wraith.
"Always with the terror demons!" I moaned.
"Maybe they like you," Varric suggested with a smirk.
"God, I hope not."
As we dealt with the first wave, the rift spat out three more terror demons. And then I pulled it shut. "Now, to the river so we can close the other one and deal with the wolves."
We followed the path back and found a good site for a future Inquisition camp. It was just between the run down farmhouse and Dennet's house. The spot was perfect, since it by one side it was shielded by large rocks and there was a quiet stream of water on the other side. From there it was a short walk downhill to the ravine.
"The rift," I mumbled. Shit. This one was notoriously difficult, wasn't it? "On the other hand, let's leave this one for later too."
It was the rift with a huge ass terror demon and a revenant. It was always super hard to reach the rift in order to close it, too. If we walked into that one accidentally our asses would've been toast.
"Are you sure?" Cassandra asked. "It is worryingly close to the farms."
I swallowed audibly. "Yeah. This one might be even worse than the one in the Pass. Let's tell Dennet to warn his workers in the meanwhile."
Giving the rift a wide berth, we waddled through the riverbed to the other side. Yes, through the river. My poor boots may never be dry again. We followed the river downstream on the opposite side and came across four wolves. At first they just circled us, but as we approached the den's entrance they attacked and we were forced to kill them.
"We're getting closer," Solas guessed.
The entrance was a cave. Because of course there was a cave.
"This cave must be the lair of those strange wolves," Cassandra said.
Thankfully the area itself wasn't underground, just the entrance. But it was completely surrounded by stone; there was only one exit. A lone straggler from the pack smelled us coming. Solas had so cleverly guessed the cause behind their strange behaviour, and we were caught between a literal rock and a hard place when the terror demon responsible popped out of nowhere.
It was impossible for us to split up evenly, so Cass and I were flushed against each other's sides as we fought back first the wolves and the then the terror demon. It nearly got me several times, warping in and out of existence to fuck with us. Varric and Solas did their best to back us up; shooting ranged attacks when they could and in Solas's case providing us with barriers and healing spells.
Finally, the terror demon fell and the remaining wolves ran way.
"With the demon dead, the farmers should be safe from the wolves," Cassandra said, swiping sweat from her forehead.
"I expect the wolves will also be pleased to be free from the demon's control," Solas reminded us.
I glanced at him. "Yeah," I said, now feeling really bad for the poor animals. "What's left of them, anyway."
It put a damper on our mood. That's why what happened next was such a special treat.
We were walking back the way we came from when a strange sound echoed in the ravine. It was like a mix between a wild hog's scream and the neigh of a horse.
"A dragon?" Varric asked, making us all tense up.
That's when I remembered the other quest set near the river, and broke into a sprint.
"Herald, wait up!" Cassandra called out. She only calls me Herald in private when she's pissed at me.
But I didn't slow down, because sure enough just up the cliff there stood a huge beast of an animal. A druffalo.
"Hey baby," I cooed, "yes, you! Hello! Come here!"
Druffy the druffalo glanced at me with her big doe eyes and snorted loudly.
I dug into my bag and offered her a piece of bread. "Druffy, look," I said, "it's a snack! Yes, from one horned friend to another!"
That's when I realised the others had caught up with me, because Varric burst into laughter. When I glanced back, even Cassandra and Solas were holding back chuckles.
Druffy took the bread from my palm with her wet snout. And as she chewed, I slightly patted her on her head. "Good girl," I grinned. "Let's get you home."
I had to keep offering her treats to get her follow us all the way to the farms.
"Why are we doing this again?" Varric asked Cassandra.
"Hush," Cassandra said. "The Herald's mood seems to have improved. Don't ruin it."
"The Herald of Andraste, the Chosen Prophet," Varric muttered, "And the Tamer of Druffalo. There's a good joke about horns somewhere in there."
We returned Druffy to her enclosure, and the farmer thanked us profusely.
"Bye," I waved to the beautiful animal. "I'll miss you."
Dennet was waiting for us in front of the stables.
"You're back," he greeted us plainly. He shifted, crossing his arms. I had a feeling he didn't appreciate being intimidated by some random ox-man. "I prepared four of my best horses for you. The others will be ready by the time your men come to get them."
"We closed the rift beneath on the hill over there," I said, "but there's still one in the ravine. Tell the others not to go there until we take care of it."
He nodded. "I will."
"Thank you for the horses," I said, regretting my short temper from earlier. "Truly. I'll send men to build the watch towers as soon as possible."
Now, riding a horse in wet shoes is only slightly more comfortable than walking in them, but you gotta count your blessings, right? Thank god I actually knew how to ride. I couldn't handle galloping too well (yet), but I was okay as long as we weren't going at neck-breaking speeds.
By the time we were back in our camp everyone seemed to be ready to turn in. But it wasn't our bedtime yet. We had to talk to several scouts about the empty templar encampments and assign the building of those watch towers. Then we spent time writing messages to Cullen and Leliana about the horses and what we'd achieved so far. All of it took several hours, and it was equally as exhausting as walking around fighting demons.
Okay, okay. Slight exaggeration there. Almost as exhausting.
By the time we actually could go to sleep, there was no singing. We just ate and crawled into our tents, glad for the Inquisition scouts who kept constant watch over our sleeping forms.
The next day was better. My previous bad mood was gone, and our shoes had dried overnight.
We discussed our next move over breakfast.
"The mage camp is somewhere in this forest," I said pointing it out on the map. "But with the templar camp gone, the fights should die down somewhat, so it isn't high priority." I pointed at another corner of the map. "There are some bandits up there, but I suggest we'll take care of them later. We can take care of these on our way to Redcliffe, later."
Cassandra coughed, getting my attention. "When are we going to Redcliffe?" she asked, frowning.
"Oh," I said, blinking. "That's later. Don't worry about it."
"This has to do with your knowledge, doesn't it." It wasn't a question.
"Yes," I admitted. Redcliffe would be our destination eventually, no matter what. Even if my secret plan wouldn't work, I would always side with the mages rather than the templars. Sorry. Mage player bias.
Cassandra sighed, and closed her eyes. "Please, continue."
"Okay. There's an old elvhen temple in the area, hiding an artifact that we should activate. It will help strengthen the Veil in that area or something, according to Solas."
Solas looked at me sharply. "That truly is disconcerting," he muttered.
I winked at him. "So I say our work here is done for now. Let's go back to Haven."
They all agreed with varying degrees of cheeriness, and thus began our road trip back to Haven.
I suppose you'll want to know about our horses. I conveniently didn't describe them last night, because I was so tired I honestly didn't pay much attention. But we'll start with my ride. She was dark brown, and huge. And when I say huge, I mean I was able to ride her comfortably. And may I remind you, I was also huge. I don't think I would have been able to ride her if I had been in my old body. I would have been too scared of the size difference, even though the horse seemed to be the gentlest and the most good natured animal I had ever come across in my life.
Dennet didn't provide the horses with any names, so I thought I would come up with my own. I thought long and hard about it as we traveled, and some time during the afternoon I cracked it.
"Freya," I said out loud, patting her neck. "I'll call you Freya."
Freya snorted and nodded her head, as if in agreement.
"That is an unusual name," Solas said from on top of his horse, riding next to me. "What is the meaning behind it?"
"Freya was the goddess of war, love, death and beauty, and lot of other things," I said. "Her name literally means 'Lady' in Old Norse."
"I think it's very fitting," Cassandra said from ahead of us. "Every soldier should treat their mount like a lady."
I laughed. "You're right. I didn't even think of that," I admitted. "What are you naming yours?"
"I am undecided," said Solas.
Cassandra shrugged. "I don't know yet, either. I'm not so good at names."
We all turned to look at Varric, who was riding next to Cass.
"What?" he said. "I know I'm a writer, but these things take time."
"Your is a stallion," I said, looking thoughtfully at Varric's gray horse. It was smaller than Freya. I grinned. "So if we were to stick with Norse mythology, your horse should be Fenris."
Varric swirled to glare at me. "How?" he sputtered.
"Don't ask me," I laughed, "but Fenris is a character from Norse Mythology. He's a gray wolf, and the son of Loki, the trickster god. That reminds me," I said turning slyly to look at Solas. "How about Loki for yours?"
Solas looked thoughtful. "Why not," he gave in. "It has a nice sound to it."
I was trying to hard not to laugh at his face. Oh god.
"Will you come up with a name for me too?" Cassandra grumbled. "As I said, I'm bad with names, and you seem to be carrying a library of them underneath those horns."
I thought about it. "How about Sigyn?" I said. "She was the wife of Loki, and goddess of fidelity. Her name means 'victorious'."
"Sigyn," Cassandra tried, tasting the name. "Yes. I like it. Thank you."
"You're going to need to spell out all of these for me," Varric said, resigning to his fate. "Not Fenris, of course. I know how to spell that."
I grinned. "Alright... Let's start with Freya. That's F-R-E-Y-A..."
"How do you write as you do, Varric?" Cassandra asked. "I can never find the proper words."
Varric stared at her. "You... write. Really?"
"I've needed to describe events in reports," Cassandra said with a huff. "They always come off as..."
"Dry? Boring? Lifeless? Stale?" Varric suggested.
"You...are an ass."
Varric chuckled. "Just helping you find those words."
I laughed too, which drew Cassandra's attention to me.
"What about you, Adaar?" she asked. "Back then in Haven, you said that you write."
Varric's gaze zeroed onto me in an instant. Oh no.
"Nothing like Varric," I hastily clarified. "It's just a hobby. I've never...officially published anything. In print, I mean."
"But you have published...unofficially?" Varric asked, raising an eyebrow. "In some other way?"
Did fanfiction count as publishing?
I scratched the underside of my horn. "Yes, I guess I have."
Cassandra kept looking at me expectantly. "And...?" She prompted.
"Well," I started. "First of all, you shouldn't compare your writing to someone like Varric's. We all have different styles and we're all at a different point, learning wise."
Varric hummed. "Sure."
"And second, you should always recognise your audience. If you're writing a report, it doesn't have to read like a mystery novel. But there are tricks you can utilize to make your text more enjoyable even then." At this point I was getting everyone's full attention, so I might have gone into lecture mode. "Maybe look at your word choices. If you keep using the same words over and over again the story becomes repetitive. On the other hand, don't use any unnecessarily complex words if there's a simpler alternative available."
Cassandra processed my words for a moment. "I think I understand," she said slowly. "I shouldn't try to make my reports more complicated than they need to be."
I grinned at her. "Yep!" I said. "Come to me any time if you want help with anything specific, I'll gladly help out."
"You might yet regret that offer," Solas said with a smile.
Varric chuckled. "So, what kind of writing did you do?" he asked.
I avoided his gaze. "Mainly romance. Stuff similar to Swords & Shields, but umm..."
"No, really?!" Varric asked and burst into laughter.
Cassandra's eyes widened.
"I did some other stuff too!" I corrected them. "But romance stories are popular among readers and a blast to write. The story has a clear goal; the pair needs to get together and bam, wham, thank you ma'm. The reader is left satisfied, most likely having chosen that particular story because they know what to expect."
"Isn't it boring reading the same kind of stories over and over again?" Solas asked.
I shrugged. "Not really," I said. "Familiar is good. Clichés are clichés because they work."
"It occurs to me I don't know if you even believe in the Maker," Cassandra said suddenly one night, as we were gathered around a campfire eating dinner.
I winced.
"Is that even a valid question anymore?" Varric asked with a snort. "The man claims to be from another world."
Cassandra threw him a glare over her bowl of soup. "Nevertheless."
"I've never had faith in organized religion," I admitted, breaking a piece of bread in half. "My parents were members of a church, sure. I went there on Sundays with them, and sometimes we prayed. But as soon as I went to school and learned there was more than one version of the truth and our world was filled with different religions, I knew it was all bullshit."
"How can you say that, especially now?" Cassandra asked, her face scrunching up like it did when she was frustrated. "Surely your presence here must mean something."
"Maybe," I said, "or maybe it's all a big cosmic joke. Who can tell?" I shrugged. "People claim that their holy book is the right one and that their truth is the real deal. But every holy book is written by men and men are fallible. That means that every piece of information in those books is questionable."
Cassandra backed down, her shoulders falling.
"I think I understand your point," came the Elvhen voice of reason, "But surely every myth is based in reality?"
What a thing to hear coming from Fen'Harel himself. The Dalish were afraid of him, even going as far as to curse people with the Dread Wolf's name.
"Yes," I countered and raised an eyebrow, "but does that mean we should take those myths as the absolute truth?"
Solas inclided his head... and smiled. "It pleases me that I am not the only one to think so."
"Of course you two agree," Varric muttered. "Maybe next you will start talking magical theories."
"What's that Varric?" I asked, grinning. "Do you want Solas to explain magic to you?"
Varric escaped into our shared tent with a huff, leaving me, Solas and Cassandra to finish our conversation.
After gathering her composure, Cassandra asked, "Are you familiar with the story of Andraste?"
"Mostly, yes," I said, my mouth getting away with me, "and we had a similar prophet called the Christ. Except he was a man and the son of God. They say he performed miracles. He was betrayed and killed publicly, but three days later he came back to life. According to the particular theory my parents believed in, his death cleansed humans of their sins permanently. God would always forgive us no matter what we did."
"There are... some similarities to Andraste," Cassandra admitted reluctantly, her face troubled.
"Cassandra," I said, suddenly feeling bad for her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't bore you with stories of Christianity. You gain effectively nothing useful from the information."
She nodded, but I could see that my words had rattled her.
"Actually," I said in order to salvage the situation, "I know for a fact that Andraste was a real person."
"You do?" Solas inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"The Hero of Ferelden went to the Temple of Sacred Ashes in order to save Arl Eamon's life," I recalled, "and she met the Guardian. He was one of the first Disciples of Andraste. Who knows? Maybe the Maker is real as well. Hell, I'm open to anything as long as I have some kind of proof."
That seemed to placate Cassandra, who smiled. "Faith is not based on proof," she pointed out.
I laughed. "Well, there lies the problem. I probably should have a bit more faith. Like you said," I reminded, "I'm in Thedas after all, which in itself should be impossible. But it happened." I grinned and sent her a sly look. "As soon as the Maker starts talking to me, I'll let you know."
"You shouldn't jest about such things," Cassandra admonished, but there was a small smile on her lips.
Before I knew it, four days had passed and at noon of the fifth day we returned to Haven.
We left our horses in the stables and went our merry ways from there. I suspect most of my companions made their way towards a bath. In fact, it was in my agenda as well. However first I wanted to know our progress, so my first stop was the Chantry building. But I was unable enter because there was an angry mob gathering in front of it.
"Your kind killed the most Holy!" a templar shouted.
"Lies!" a balding mage across from him yelled, pointing his finger. "Your kind let her die!"
"Shut your mouth, mage," the templar said, his hand reaching for his sword.
Cullen came in between the two, furious. "Enough!" he roared.
"Knight-Captain," the templar called out feebly.
"That is not my title," Cullen ground out. "We are not templars any longer. We are all part of the Inquisition."
A snide voice cut in. "And what does that mean, exactly?" Chancellor Roderick asked.
"Back again, Chancellor?" Cullen sneered. "Haven't you done enough?"
"I'm curious, Commander, as how your Inquisition and its 'Herald' will restore order as you've promised," he said, looking over the angry crowd. He was one to talk. It was more likely that the Chancellor himself instigated the argument to begin with.
"Of course you are," Cullen muttered. "Back to your duties, all of you," he ordered everyone around them.
The mob dispersed and I walked up to the pair.
"Oh, you're back," Cullen said, as if surprised.
"None of the scouts sent word ahead?" I asked curiously.
"They might have," Cullen allowed, now smiling slightly. "I just didn't expect you to come straight here. I figured you might want to rest first."
"I wanted to check up on everyone, and then there was a commotion. I was curious," I said, gesturing around. "Seems like they've kept you busy."
"Yes," Cullen sighed out, crossing his arms. "Mages and templars were already at war. Now they're blaming each other for the Divine's death."
"Which is why we require a proper authority to guide them back to order," the Chancellor said.
Cullen glared at him. "Who, you? Random clerics who weren't important enough to be at the Conclave?"
The Chancellor kept at it. "The rebel Inquisition and its so-called 'Herald of Andraste'?" he asked and scoffed. "I think not."
"If the proper authority hadn't completely failed, the Conclave wouldn't have been needed," I pointed out.
"So you suggest I blame the Chantry and exalt a murderer? What of justice?" Roderick asked.
Cullen was losing his cool. "That won't help restore order here and now."
"Hah," Roderick laughed humorlessly. "Order will never be restored as long as this rebellion is allowed to fester."
"Well, let's hope we find solutions in Val Royeaux," I said, "And not a cathedral full of chancellors."
Cullen smiled wearily. "The stuff of nightmares."
"Mock, if you will," the Chancellor sneered. "I'm certain the Maker is less amused."
I turned to Cullen, already getting bored of the Chancellor and his negativity. "So, do you need me for anything? Did Mother Giselle give you that list of names?" I asked.
The Chancellor huffed and stomped away.
Cullen looked thoughtful. "Yes, Mother Giselle gave us the list when she arrived. There will be a meeting later. We weren't certain when you would return, so there is time yet. Maybe you can take the time to... freshen up."
I looked down at my armor, which was admittedly rather gunky. I had tried washing it in the river couple of times, but blood is really hard to get off. Thankfully the prominent color of my armor was red, so blood didn't show too much.
I glanced at the sun. It was just after noon. "You play chess, right? Can I tempt you in a game later tonight?"
Cullen blinked in surprise, then his face reddened just slightly. "How did you... Um, I'll have to look at my schedule..." he trailed off, hand at the back of his neck, "to tell the truth, I am swamped with reports right now."
My face fell. "Oh, well," I said, trying not to look too disappointed. "That's perfectly alright."
"Some other time maybe," Cullen said quickly.
"Yes, of course," I said, smiling. "It's cool. I understand."
We stared at each other.
"Cool," I repeated. "Well, I'm off to take a week long bath. I'll see you in the War Room."
I bolted.
What just happened. Did I ask Cullen out on a chess date? I think I did.
Hoolyyyyyy–
"–shiiit," I said, closing the door to my cabin and sliding down on the floor. "What the hell? Adaar, you cannot ask cute people out on chess dates just like that."
"Why not?" Solas asked from my bed.
I blinked. He was still sitting there.
"Why are you on my bed, Solas?" I asked, because that was the more pressing question.
"Because I was waiting for you," Solas said and stood up. "I was curious if you have suffered any more nightmares. Despite my best efforts, there never seemed to be a quiet moment on the road to ask you."
Right. Cassandra wouldn't have liked the news that I might now be open to demonic possession.
"Nope, no new nightmares so far," I said, shaking my head. "If you're so concerned about it, I'll tell you when I have one."
That seemed to placate him, because he nodded. "Then," Solas said walking over to me, his arms behind his back. "Why can't you ask people on 'chess dates', as you call it?"
I stood up from my position on the floor and brushed off my clothes. "Well, first of all," I said, holding up one finger. "Cullen is not attracted to guys. Second... umm. I'm pretty sure that first thing overrules everything else."
Solas raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you've enquired him?"
I laughed. "You know I haven't. I just know these things."
"The Commander's sexual preferences are important to the fate of the Inquisition?" he asked. "How fascinating."
Smart-ass.
I rolled my eyes. "Not really, no. But umm, you know how I said there are different versions of the story? It varies a lot and sometimes the Herald, whoever they are, ends up romancing someone," I explained hesitantly. "Sorry, it sounds really crude when I say it like that, but it's actually very cute."
"What about me?" Solas asked, like he was talking about the weather.
I could feel my face heating up. "I'm not... going to talk about this anymore."
Solas had been my first Inquisition romance. And even though I never finished playing that particular playthrough, it was memorable. It was the voice, okay? I really liked his voice actor in Torchwood.
Solas tilted his head, smirking as if he had guessed what I was thinking about. "As you wish," he said and walked past me to the door. "Let me know if you have any more nightmares."
He left. What a jerk.
It was only then that I realised that might have been his subtle way of finding out what I knew. Right now he had no reason to think that his identity would be revealed by the end of this. He was simply a skillful mage who happened to be in the right place in the right time in order to save the Herald's life. If I revealed what I knew of Lavellan's romance, there might be a crack in his confidence and he might flee no matter what I said.
I couldn't let that happen. I was really fucking unsure of his motivations, but from what I knew from the game and bits of fanfic, I doubted Fen'Harel was evil. Unless this was one of the cases where fangirls were blinded by a character's sex appeal and brushed aside all of their bad qualities... That was actually a possibility, now that I think about it. But despite his condescending attitude towards the Dalish and humans at times, he never seemed evil.
Not for the first time, I wished I had played Trespasser.
Sadly enough, my knowledge concerning the DLC was bits and pieces of information gathered through friends and copious amounts of fanfiction. Again, not exactly something you should trust unconditionally. I knew that the Inquisitor lost their arm and Solas had a plan that might destroy the world, but the details were sketchy at best.
In fact, my memory of the latter half of the game was vague. I could only hope that I would remember more details as things progressed.
I went to take off my armor when I noticed something shiny laying on top of my dresser. It was an entirely new armor set.
Damn, it was nice and incredibly badass. I would recognise the Flames of the Inquisition heavy armor set anywhere. Built out of white and dark metals and adorned with golden scales, it was a formidable sight. Alongside it were a bright red piece of fabric to be worn as a belt, dark leather trousers, brown leather gloves and white leather boots. There was also a black undershirt to be worn under the armor itself, and a red scarf that matched the belt.
The advisors really wanted me at my best, huh? Guess some random Qunari armor wouldn't cut it when traveling to Val Royeaux.
I vowed to try it on as soon as I had bathed. That led me to realise that I shouldn't be taking off my clothes, because the only bathtubs in Haven were in fact located inside the Chantry, away from my cabin.
I sighed, thanking the Powers That Be that I had only taken off my shoulder pieces and shoes, and not the whole armor.
Putting my boots back on, I grabbed clean underwear from the closet and gathered the new armor into my arms. I also picked up a razor, because the stubble on my chin had grown quite a lot in length by now. Then I marched into the Chantry. One of the stone faced chantry sisters was kind enough to show me to one of the unoccupied rooms that had an actual bathtub and promised me I wouldn't be disturbed. She even called over couple of servants to carry hot water into the tub.
The servants handed me a piece of soap and two (!) towels.
I thanked them profusely, locked the door, stripped naked and sank into the warm water.
I had to bend my knees to completely fit, but it was still way better than just cleaning up with a bucket of water and a rag. Or even swimming in that lake. In fact, it was so relaxing that I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, someone was knocking on the door.
I looked over, hesitating if I should get out of the rapidly cooling water or not. "Hello?"
"Just making sure you're okay," Varric's voice carried out. "I was looking for you and the servants said you've been there for half an hour."
"I fell asleep," I confessed.
Varric laughed.
I glared at the door and got up, quickly drying off and putting on the new leather pants and the black undershirt. When I finally opened the door, Varric was still there, leaning against the wall opposite of the door and grinning at me.
"Why were you looking for me?" I asked, taking the dry towel and squeezing my long hair with it. Corner of it got caught in my horns, effectively hiding my face from view.
"Is it true you have a thing for Curly?" Varric asked. He must have noticed my shoulders tense, because he laughed. "So it's true. I was certain Solas was pulling my leg."
I grabbed the towel so it fell off my horns and face, and looked mournfully at him. "Why is this happening to me?" I asked, "Does everyone know?"
Varric shrugged. "People like to talk."
"I have a thing for everyone here," I muttered under my breath.
"What was that?" Varric asked, his eyes glinting.
Welp. Let's not go there.
"It was a bad idea. I never should have asked him," I said instead. "Poor Cullen. He was so flustered."
Varric helped me fasten the new armor. "You good to go?" he asked.
"Actually, now that you're here," I said, showing him the straight shaving razor I had found in my cabin. "Can you help me shave?"
He looked at me silently.
I looked back at him.
"You don't know how to shave?" he asked incredulously.
I shook my head. "We had specialized equipment. I don't know how to use a straight razor."
Never mind the fact that my original body simply didn't grow facial hair. Which was a shame. I thought it was cool.
He shook his head and took the razor from me. "All right, sit down. Tip your head back, and don't move a muscle."
I did as he told and closed my eyes. The whole situation was weird. My first beard shave, and Varric Tethras doing it for me. The thought made me giggle, which in turn made Varric snap at me several times.
"Done," he said eventually and slapped a wet towel on my face.
"Thanks," I said, wiping my face with it. "I'll have to learn to use that thing eventually, but I didn't want to accidentally stab myself."
He chuckled darkly. "A truly unfit death for the Herald of Andraste."
We walked towards the Chantry doors together. On our way there were several chantry sisters bustling around, and couple of servants. They all whispered among themselves as we walked past. As we exited the Chantry doorway the sun hit me at a just the right angle, causing me to squint.
"Excuse me," a voice said. "I've got a message for the Inquisition but I'm having hard time getting anyone to talk to me."
My knees went out from underneath me, and I had to grip onto Varric's shoulder to keep myself from falling to the ground. I vaguely registered him grunting at the extra weight.
"Krem?" I breathed out weakly. He wasn't supposed to be here. Not yet.
Cremisius Aclassi quirked an eyebrow at me. "Do I know you?"
