"It never ends." Larson said aloud to an empty room, sitting at his desk and reading letters from warden outposts around Thedas. He rubbed his temples and sighed, tossing them aside and settling in his chair.
He reached for the top drawer of his mahogany desk and pulled it open. His lips pulled on a small smile as he picked up the parchment that contained words that have been read a million times over. Every time he pulled out that letter, he noticed the fading of the ink. It was disheartening, of course, but he held hope that one day, some day, he would receive another on his desk.
A knock at the door broke his reminiscent glow, and he tucked the letter away.
"Come in."
The door cracked open and allowed a warden to enter. He was wounded, but must have been patched up prior to ascending to the First Warden's office. He stood stone-faced in the center of the room with his body standing straight. "Ser."
Larson leaned forward, "Ah, part of the scouting team." He watched the mage nod, and could not help to let out a small chuckle. He shook his head. "And you come back alone… I half expected this."
"Our brothers did not go down without a fight, but they are…" The mage warden let out a sigh. "The Inquisitor and Hawke cut through Weisshaupt's defenses once before, and this time the Warden-Commander was with them."
Larson stood up and paced to the window and leaned against the cool glass. "Tell me, why didn't you join the rebellion with much of the other wardens?"
"Ser?"
Larson's black eyed stare turned to the mage, "Answer the question."
The mage cleared his throat. "This order is ancient, ser. Its principles have withstood the ages, and to tarnish that? I don't believe any warden has the right to do away with such a thing."
"I want you to remember that. I want you to remember what you're fighting for." Larson turned away from the mirror. "The wardens who have sacrificed everything for this order. That is what you are standing behind."
The warden nodded. "I would not shed blood for anything less, First Warden."
"I want a report. Where you ran into them, how they fought, what you saw." Larson went to back to his chair and took a seat. Before the mage walked out, he called out to him. "Tell the other wardens those three are continuing to cut your brothers and sisters down, for they will need motivation for the war that is to come."
"This fucking thing." Brady groaned, cradling his left hand with his right.
"The potions aren't helping?" Hawke asked, riding next to him.
"No." He said with a small voice.
The sun was going down, and with the seasons changing, the air grew brisk and unforgiving. Brady could see his companions becoming victims to the cold, and he almost thanked himself for adding the fox pelt to his armor.
Damon continued to lead, but as the sun went down, it grew more difficult to continue. He halted his horse and looked vacantly into the distance. Stopping could prove fatal, as a quick slit of the throat while they slept was too probable of a problem, but Damon struggled to find an alternative. He could see ghosts of fire in the distance. If his hunch was correct, it was a village. An Anderfels village. The Anders were quite different from the rest of the continent, he had learned from experience. The majority of Anders were very loyal to Weisshaupt, and seeking shelter there could pose a risk. But, with choices becoming scarcer and the falling sun becoming more of a problem than The First Warden himself, he kicked his horse and galloped towards it.
Upon arrival, they received countless looks from the villagers. It was understandable. It was not every day three horsemen armed to the teeth came trotting through.
Outside of a tavern, they tied up their horses. The commotion from inside suggested a drunken atmosphere they could easily blend into. Brady kept his left hand gloved and held back curses. With a pat on the back from Damon, he composed himself, and they entered, only to be greeted with more stares.
Hawke walked up to the bar and couldn't help but order a drink. Brady did the same, taking a seat next to her after muscling his way in between her and another gentlemen. Damon continued to stand. His eyes scanned the room for any familiar faces, and was happily disappointed when he didn't find a single one.
"Do you have rooms, ser?" Damon asked, his voice low and creaking with exhaustion. "The three of us will pay good coin for one."
The bartender looked at the three of them, all of their eyes doe as though they were dogs begging for the last scrap of meat. "You three?" He chuckled heartily while cleaning the inside of a glass. "I see. I don't think our beds will handle what you're planning for her." He winked at Hawke.
"Please," Hawke rolled her eyes. "They should be so lucky."
Brady raised his brows. "Well, that's an interesting image." Hawke punched him in the arm, causing a slight spill of his ale.
"You can have a room for the night." The bartender decided, placing the now polished cup directly in front of them with an echoing cling catching their attention. "If you can answer one thing."
"Of course," Damon nodded, "Anything."
The bartender leaned forward, his meaty hands taking up most of the room on the counter. "You need to tell me why in the Maker's name are the inquisitor, the champion, and the warden-commander are in my bar?"
Damon narrowed his eyebrows, but kept his voice even. "How did you-"
The bartender scoffed, "Please. You're the most obvious," his tone went from slightly insulted to mocking, "The Hero of Ferelden, how do you do?" He then turned his gaze to Brady. "His hand is glowing, that glove isn't doing anything for you, boy." Finally, he crossed his arms. "And Hawke, if you never wanted to be recognized, maybe you should wipe off that blood smear on your face."
Hawke shrugged, "Fair enough."
"We're here on important business." Damon clarified.
"'Important business,' huh? Does that explain the dead wardens we keep hearing about around town? Thought it was the darkspawn, glad to find out it was just you three."
"We don't want any trouble." Brady argued.
The bartender scoffed, "I doubt that. You already have the people here too nervous to drink their ale." He eyes flickered to the crowd of villagers behind the three, and they followed his stare, showing a plethora of eyes looking back at them with little whispers. He continued, "I'll make you a deal: Keep your weapons with the mounts you rode on. I'll even offer the stable. Agree and you'll get your room. Free of charge."
Damon's eyes narrowed. "You want to relieve us of our weapons? Do you understand how mad that sounds?"
The bartender leaned in and kept his voice low. "Do you see anyone else in here with weapons? People like you tend to leave a trail of bodies behind, and I would rather not have that happen here."
Damon's lip twitched. He never took lightly to parting with his family sword, especially at the insistence of a burly bartender. But, his hands were tied. What else could he do? It was either his sword or a night in the cold, and he couldn't figure out which option was worse. He stood tall and sized up the bartender. The bartender stood straight, standing his ground. Damon unsheathed his sword and examined the blade. The bartender's eyes widened, and Damon grinned. "Very well." He placed the sword on the bar, "I don't need a sword to cause bloodshed."
The bartender's nostrils flared as his tone grew acidic. "The stables are behind the tavern."
Damon nodded, picked his sword up, resting it back in its sheath and headed towards the stables.
At Morrigan's suggestion, Cullen called for camp to be made. He didn't argue either, he knew exhaustion in a soldier's eyes when he's seen it. She had made an argument that the Warden was close, and that's exactly where he needed his forces to be: Close, but not too close. The reinforcements were prepared for a war, though there was still hope in the Commander's head for no more lost lives.
He supervised the making of camp, keeping a watchful eye on any lazy contributions. In a not so shocking discovery, he noticed that there was no such thing as a lack of effort here. In fact, ever since his appointment to his role of the Commander of the Inquisition, it was very rare to see a display of idleness in any of his soldiers. They believed in what they were doing, and that wasn't absent in the rebel wardens, nor the Ferelden or Orlesian soldiers.
After a time, he asked a lieutenant to assume his duty, and began to walk the camp. It wasn't long until he saw Leliana. Her tent was already pitched, and a small fire was lit in front of her. She was reading a piece of parchment until Cullen's approach broke her attention.
"Scouting report?" He guessed, taking a seat beside her.
She shook her head. "No. It's from Josephine."
Cullen cocked an eyebrow. "Has Skyhold burnt to the ground in our absence?"
"No, but I wouldn't joke about that." She grinned. "The divine wants to meet with the Inquisitor at his earliest convenience." Her eyes scanned the words on the parchment again. "An exalted council will take place in Halamshiral."
Cullen ran his finger through his hair and let out a groan. "Maker, I'd rather not spend another moment in Orlais."
"You might not have to after this."
"And why not?"
"It's to 'discuss the fate of the Inquisition.'" Leliana clarified.
Cullen's face contorted. "Brady is going to love this. We spend three years fixing this continent to have them slap our wrists and claim we've gone out of bounds."
"The thought hasn't crossed your mind, Commander?" Leliana inquired, her words peaking his curiosity. "Finally laying down the sword and living a normal life?"
He tilted his head. "It's madness to lay down my sword when there are things in this world that I still need to swing it at, no?"
"Assuming everything is a target." She quipped, and tucked the note away. "The Inquisition was never meant to be permanent. Perhaps we have served our purpose."
"Evidently not, were in the middle of a rebellion."
"You know what I meant."
Cullen chuckled. "I did. But, perhaps you are right. Brady will make sure he has a say in the matter, however. I'm interested to see if he shares your sentiment."
"It doesn't matter if he does or not, he'll just be postponing the inevitable." She relaxed, and threw a log onto her fire. "I trust he'll respect Divine Justinia's wishes."
"Even if he does, the Inquisitor never be free, Leliana." His voice grew dark, solemn. "I think you and I both know that. His damned hand of his will have him leashed to someone. Perhaps the divine-"
"Cassandra would never-"
Cullen raised his voice. "As much as we hate the idea, no nation wants a man who can open rifts into the fade walking among us without supervision. They'll cut his hand off before they even think of letting him go."
"I do not believe that."
"Then you're being naïve." Cullen declared.
"And you're being cynical." She retorted, her eyebrows pushing together with protest.
"I'm being realistic." He snapped back. "If this exalted council goes the way I imagine it will, Brady should disappear… find some respite in some village nobody even knows exists."
Leliana stood up. Her voice was cool, "Enough talk. We should continue to deal with the conflict we're stuck in right now." Cullen began to follow her, but she raised her hand for him to pause. "Let that be tomorrow's problem."
He huffed and watched her disappear into her tent. He walked away, only to be interrupted a few steps later by a soldier.
"Commander, Lady Morrigan would like to see you." The soldier relayed, and with the commander's nod of understanding, he walked away.
"I wonder what she needs this time." Cullen mumbled under his breath.
Brady awoke to the sound of screams outside of the window. He reached for a sword that wasn't there and growled with annoyance. The room was pitch black and the only visible thing was Hawke laying alone in the bed. He pushed Damon from the chair he was sleeping in.
Damon answered with a shove back. "What in Andraste's name was that for?" Brady didn't have to answer, they sound of sheer panic from outside answered his question for him. He rushed to his feet and shook Hawke awake. "Wake up, Damnit."
Hawke's eyes opened wide when she, too, heard the sounds coming from outside. "I really hope this is a bad dream."
"Come on." Brady urged.
They rushed out of the rented bedroom and down the stairs of the tavern. It was empty, the only thing crowding the area were empty mugs.
"We have to get to the stables." Hawke said.
Damon and Brady nodded, and headed through the tavern door. They were greeted by running villagers, being followed by a slow moving faction of armor that glowed orange with the torches each soldier carried. They ducked behind a fixture outside of the tavern.
The three of them exchanged looks as a woman began to speak. "Warden-Commander Cousland, show yourself or we'll turn this village and people to ash."
Hawke grew impatient as each second passed them, "We either turn ourselves in, or head for the stables. There's no time to waste!"
"They're going to kill innocent people, I'm not about to let that happen." Brady whispered back. "Hawke, cloak yourself and get to the stables."
"I could easily set all of these wardens on fire." She argued, almost ready to cast a spell.
Brady grabbed Hawke's hand. "Not if it means these villagers will die."
Damon's eyes switched between the approaching wardens and the path to the stables.
"You cannot be debating this right now." Brady spat.
The woman began to speak again, yelling over the horrid screams of the villagers scrambling to safety. "By the Maker, we know you're here. Show yourself!"
"Go to the stables, find our camp." Brady commanded. "I'll distract them for you."
"Stop, Trevelyan!" Damon ordered, but to no avail.
Brady walked in front of the faction with his hands raised. "Enough!"
The female warden who led the faction held her hand out, and the entirety of the horde paused. Brady stood there, unfazed. She began to approach him. Her armor was exquisite, shimmering with silverite and a proud grey warden emblem perched across the entirety of her chest plate.
When she was a few feet away, she raised the visor of her helmet. She rose her torch to Brady's face, and he could feel the heat of the fire melting the hairs of his face. The warden smiled like a snake eyeing up her next meal. "Inquisitor Trevelyan, I am Warden Dawson, and it's an honor to finally meet you. Where's the Warden-Commander? And Hawke?"
"I came here alone." He replied. "The Warden and Hawke could be anywhere in the Anderfels."
Dawson shrugged. "The First Warden should be pleased with you returning with us, with or without the Warden-Commander."
"There is no need for this." Brady took a step towards her with a snarl. "Turn back and end this terrorism."
Dawson laughed. "Not without leverage, Inquisitor, you understand." She brought her fist to Brady's jaw, snapping his head to the side. Brady jumped to retaliate, only to be stopped by a waving torch. "Now, now. You can either come with us peacefully or not, however only one of those options has a happy ending for this village."
Brady held out his hands in compliance, and Dawson gestured for another warden to tie his hands up. While the Warden tied him up, Brady let out a laugh and mumbled to him. "Death would be kind after I'm done with you." The warden looked up at him for a moment, then rejoined the faction after handing the rope to Dawson.
"C'mon Trevelyan," she tugged on the restraints, "It's quite a way to Weisshaupt."
"Wait, wait!"
Brady looked over his shoulder, as did Dawson. Both Hawke and Damon approached them, unarmed and hands above their heads.
Brady rolled his eyes, "So close."
Dawson cocked her head towards them. "Restrain them, too." She patted Brady's chest. "Nice try, Trevelyan."
Once they were all bound, the faction of wardens began to lead them out of the village.
"What in the void do you guys think you are doing?" Brady cursed in a hushed voice.
Damon kept his eyes forward. "If you thought we were just going to leave you to play hero, you're forgetting who we are." He turned his head to him. "We have a better chance of getting out of this together."
"Speaking of getting out of this," Damon and Brady didn't have to look, they already knew the slanted grin Hawke held on her face. "I don't know about you boys, but I'm dying to find out how exactly we're going to do that."
