Chapter Seven:

The Inquisitor gazed at Tabris in pride, and although most of the stadium couldn't hear his pledge, Mahanon could. He turned to Dorian as imperial guards arrived to escort them down into the Arena. "I can't believe it. He actually won! We actually won! And the look on Horus' face is priceless!" Dorian says, letting out a surprised laugh. Horus storms off, anger practically radiating off of him, and Dorian can't keep the smirk off his face. "I had my doubts, but I never lost faith in him," Mahanon replied with a breathless laugh as the guards led them down twisting corridors. Dorian gave his friend a fond smile. "Yes, well, you do seem to inspire the impossible in people. Hell, look at me. I'm an openly gay magister, and no one has tried to kill me yet," he says, chuckling. Mahanon lets out a chuckle of his own, nudging Dorian's side. "The day is still young," he points out, and Dorian lets out a long laugh. "That it is, my friend, that it is."

The guards begin to open the gate and Mahanon swallows nervously. Tabris had kept himself still, his head bowed, even as the crowd cheered, and coins and flowers rained down with their praise. Then, suddenly, he heard a creaking sound as the heavy wooden gates begin to rise again, and his head shoots upwards to look. Two rows of guards stream out, creating a path for Dorian and Mahanon to walk along. Tabris took a deep breath, nervous. He wondered if the Inquisitor would truly take a slave, or if he had just needed the win and didn't truly care about what would happen to him at all. These thoughts, and others, ran rampant through his head as he knelt on the bloodstained dirt.

As Mahanon approached the kneeling slave, the crowd went silent once more, and a heavy hush fell over the stadium. Tabris looked up at the Inquisitor, and a nervous chill raced down his spine, causing him to gulp. "Congratulations on your win. You demonstrated great skill, and even greater power," Mahanon praised. "Thank…thank you, Inquisitor. I do not deserve such praise," Tabris said as he took another deep breath, "I know I am just a slave, and, to most, an abomination, but I wish to serve you. Maybe I can find peace, serving your cause, whatever that may be." He grabs his sword and offers it hilt-first towards Mahanon. "I offer you my sword as a symbol of my bond and servitude to you. If you wish to strike me down with this sword, then you have every right, and I would not blame you." He waits for the Inquisitor to take the sword.

Mahanon stares at the sword, processing Tabris' words, and he shakes his head. "I cannot take your blade, and I will not take you as my slave," Mahanon proclaims. Tabris was surprised to hear these words, and he let out a sigh as he looked down. Mahanon reached under his cloak and pulled out a bladeless hilt. "Instead, I offer you mine," he said, holding the hilt out towards Tabris, "it is not a symbol of servitude, but of friendship and loyalty, and I ask that you accept my sword," he says, his words ringing out across the Arena. Tabris, along with everyone else, is surprised and shocked by the gesture. Tabris looked at the hilt Mahanon offered, cautiously reaching out with his free hand to accept it. As his fingers wrapped around it, he could feel magical energy surge through it, and Mahanon smiled. "It is called the spirit blade, and is the weapon of a knight-enchanter. It is the sword of an arcane warrior, and with it I ask that you accept the blade and my hand."

Tabris was stunned as he examined the weapon, and when he looked back up, the Inquisitor was holding out his hand. He took all of this in as he reached up and firmly grasped Mahanon's hand, shaking it. "Inquisitor, I accept your hand, but keep your weapon. I don't think I could wield such a thing, and it belongs in better hands than mine," he declared, handing back the weapon. "Maybe. We will see, won't we?" Mahanon answers with a smile.

A guard marched over and bowed his head. "My lord, will you come with me to collect your winnings? We will lead your slave through processing to have his wounds treated, and have him cleaned up before releasing him into your custody," he says, his voice muffled behind the visor of his helmet. Mahanon bristles, a frown on his face. "He is not a slave," he says firmly. The guard shakes his head. "Call him whatever you like, it doesn't change what he is," the guard replies, as two more of guards move to stand on either side of Tabris. Mahanon sighs as they take Tabris away, who calls out, "I'll see you soon, Inquisitor," over his shoulder before they lead him out of sight. Mahanon shakes his head, turning to Dorian. "It'll be okay. You can't change these people in one night, but maybe one day," the magister assures, patting the Inquisitor on the shoulder. "I suppose, but that doesn't mean I have to like it," the elf mutters, causing Dorian to chuckle. "Come now, my friend. Let us go get Tabris and head home. Hopefully the others are doing just as well as we are," Dorian says, leading the way to the Arena lobby.

While Dorian and Mahanon were in the glittering capital of Minrathas, Cassandra was with Cullen and Scout Harding. The three of them were on horseback, heading down the Imperial Highway, near the Valarian fields, searching for the location of the caravan attacks. Harding shared a horse with Cassandra, as they didn't have a pony. Cassandra's horse walked beside Cullen's, Albert and Meghan riding behind them, bickering to each other, and the Inquisition's troops rode behind them. "Okay, Cullen, pay up," Harding says, laughing as she breaks the silence. "Oh, fine, I will when we get back. I didn't bring any coin with me," he answers, rolling his eyes and sighing in defeat. "What are you two going on about?" Cassandra snaps, causing Harding to giggle again. "Oh, nothing. Cullen and I just made a bet, and Cullen here lost," she explains, smirking, as Cassandra turns her gaze to the commander. "What did you two bet on?" she asks, curiously. "Oh, um, nothing. Just, well, um….how long before we'd get attacked. And, see, since no one attacked us, I lost, fair and square," he stutters, turning red as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck.

"We actually bet on how long you would be away from the Inquisitor before it put you in a mood," Harding said, giggling again as Cassandra turned red. Cullen gulped, nudging his horse to put a little distance between him and Cassandra as she turned on him. "YOU TWO DID WHAT?!" she yells, enraged. "Hey, I defended you! I bet that you wouldn't get moody. Cullen, here, on the other hand, bet that you wouldn't last an hour," Harding says, but Cullen shakes his head and interrupts her almost immediately. "Oh, no no no. Nice try, but she started the bet, and-" he began, but Cassandra interrupted him. "Shut up, both of you. You should never have bet on something so stupid in the first place," she snarls, infuriated and hurt.

"Aw, come on, Smiley, we didn't mean anything bad by it. In fact, it's a good thing you aren't mopey about it," Harding says consolingly. Cassandra raises her brow, turning to look over her shoulder at Harding. "And why's that?" she asks. "Cause you guys trust each other, and are okay with having space in your lives," she explains. Cassandra sighs, her face softening as her anger faded slightly. "Besides, it's not like Dorian's going to steal him away from you. Okay, well, maybe. Those two are really close," she teases, catching Cullen's eye and nodding at him to play along. "Oh, yeah, very close. They took a carriage together, today, too, just the two of them. And ever since Dorian left for Tevinter, they talked all the time through that stone thing," Cullen teased, but it only served to make Cassandra angrier than ever. "If your lives were not so crucial right now, I would kill you both and leave you in shallow graves, and blame it on the darkspawn," she growled. Both of them wisely went silent.

Cassandra sighed, trying to calm herself. They were approaching one of the sites of the caravan attacks now, and she needed a clear head to focus on her task at hand. She slid off her horse, planting her feet firmly on the ground, and wordlessly turned to help Scout Harding off of the horse. They paced around it, looking for anything unusual. "Harding, can you tell us anything?" Cassandra asks, unable to see anything herself. Harding moved ahead a few paces, stopping to crouch down by a patch of flattened grass. "Something was placed here to stop the caravan. It appears that the caravan then tried to turn and go around and they seemed to have been turnnnnnning around…..here," she said, pointing to a path that led down into the woods. "How did you get all that from the grass, Harding?" Albert asked, awestruck. Harding laughed, winking at the boy. "Trade secrets," was all she said. "Yes, or the face that she was looking at the tracks in the grass," Cassandra said with a smirk. "Aw, you always take the fun out of everything," Harding pouted, "what's the plan, anyway?"

"I will go into the forest, along with Scout Harding and initiates Albert and Meghan. Cullen, you will stay here with the troops for support," Cassandra says. Cullen nods sharply. "We will be here when you return," he promises. "If we get into a bind, Cullen, I'll shoot a fire arrow into the sky. If you see it, come running," Harding says. Cullen nods again, and the group says their farewells as they parted ways.

Harding led Cassandra and the initiates deeper into the forest, following the wheel tracks and impressions. "Hey, Cass, I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to make you that angry. Cullen and I were just having fun with you. You know that, right?" she asks, concerned that she'd hurt her friend's feelings. "No, no. I overreacted. I know you both didn't mean anything by it. I guess I'm just…moody, lately," she says. She'd been noticing an intense change in her mood lately, and she'd been acting different, but she couldn't figure out why. "Don't worry about it. Maybe it has something to do with a change in your scenery. Sometimes changing locations for extended periods of time or moving can affect your mood," Harding suggested. Cassandra shook her head. "I suppose it might be that, but I'm not so certain," she answers, ducking under a branch. Harding raises her eyebrows as she shoots a glance at her friend. "What do you think it is?" she asks. "Well, it could be-" she begins, but she's cut off by the snap of a branch. Everyone fell silent, their hands landing on their weapons, tension thick in the air. Harding drew her bow as she looked around cautiously, listening for another sound. When another branch snapped, she shot an arrow in the direction, only to find that it had been a squirrel that now had its tail pinned to the tree. It struggled, whining in pain as Harding approached. "Aw, poor guy. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," Harding cooed, kneeling down and gently removing the arrow. "Sorry about that, little buddy," she murmurs as she wraps his tail in a cloth bandage.

As Harding tended to the animal, a figure lurked in the dark shadows of the forest. Slowly, an arm drew back, ready to throw a spear at Harding. Meghan noticed the shadows moving, and she moves closer, unsure what it is. The metallic glint of the spear's head caught her eye, and her gaze went wide. "We're under attack!" she yells, as the figure throws the spear. She leaps forward, blocking the shot with her shield. As the spear ricocheted off, a platoon of Qunari leapt out of the trees and bushes, effectively ambushing the group. Cassandra, Meghan, and Albert stood in a loose circle and tried to hold off the attack. A Qunari warrior tried to duck under Cassandra's attack, and she corrected her aim in time to slice one of his horns clean off. He let out an animalistic howl, swinging a massive mallet at her in retaliation. She managed to raise her shield in time to block the blows, and Harding took the opening to shoot an arrow through the Qunari's skull. He dropped to the forest floor, limp.

Albert lunged at a Qunari and bashed him with his shield, stunning the Qunari long enough to sink his sword into the meaty flesh of the Qunari's shoulder, pinning him to the tree. Meghan was struggling to block the attacks of a spear-wielding Qunari, but the spear hooked in her shield and yanked it brutally away from her. She gasped, reaching for it desperately, but the Qunari slashed the blade across the skin of her nose and she stepped back, unable to reach her shield. She felt blood dripping down her face, tasted it hot on her tongue when she opened her mouth to take a breath, and she let out an angry battle cry, charging forward. Her ferocity took the Qunari off guard as she parried his counterattacks, and it was only a few short heartbeats before she whirled her sword and cut the blade off the spear, rendering it useless in his hands. She stabbed her blade up through his neck, killing him, and the battle was over. The three Qunari lay dead around them, bleeding out onto the grass.

Cassandra sheathed her sword and turned to her initiates. "Are you all right?" she asks. This had been Albert's and Meghan's first real fight, and Meghan was hunched over, catching her breath. Albert was leaning against the foot of the tree, checking his sword. "Yes, ma'am, we're all right," Meghan answers, a slight cough rattling in her breath. "Then stand straight. You two are to be Seekers, not part of the common rabble, and a fight with two Qunari shouldn't leave you winded," Cassandra said firmly, a slight smile on her face. "Yes, ma'am," the two answered, standing ramrod straight and snapping out a salute.

Harding sighs, and Cassandra turns her attention to the dwarf. "I guess we know who was attacking the caravans," Cassandra says, shaking her head. "Well, not Qunari, I don't think. Those guys looked like Tal-Vashoth mercenaries," Harding answers, looking over the bodies. "But if they aren't with the Qun, why are they out here?" Cassandra asks, furrowing her brow in confusion. "I don't know, but these guys are just scouts. My guess is that their camp is further in," Harding said, standing and looking deeper into the woods. Cassandra nodded, taking a deep breath. "Let's go, then."