Chapter 14

Village of Haven

Sitting at the war room table in the chantry of Haven, Bethany let out yet another deep sigh as she continued to listen to the endless, as well as pointless, bickering between Cassandra and Chancellor Roderick. They had been going at it for what felt like hours, achieving literally nothing, and Bethany actually felt deeply impressed at how Cassandra hadn't grabbed the closest blunt object and whacked Roderick on the head with it. Alistair and Josephine were present as well, but they did not speak much, both feeling as if this was purely a Chantry matter and outside of their sphere of influence, but the Grey Warden and the ambassador both looked utterly bored with the patronizing diatribes spouted by the tiresome chancellor.

"You have gone completely mad," Roderick repeated for what must have been at least the fifth time. "The prisoner should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whoever becomes the next Divine!"

"I do not believe he is guilty," Cassandra retorted stubbornly.

"Can you say when the new Divine will be elected, Chancellor Roderick?" Bethany spoke up, feeling that Cassandra's arguments were getting a little weak. "It might take a very long time for the remaining clerics to agree. The prisoner could remain here with us until then, where he can actually do some good."

"I might agree with you, Sister Bethany, but how will the prisoner's presence here help?" Roderick shrugged. "He clearly failed with the Breach!"

"What are you talking about?" Cassandra exclaimed angrily. "He stopped the Breach from growing!"

"But it is still in the sky!" Roderick protested. "For all we know, he intended it this way!"

"I do not believe that," the Seeker retorted. "It is simply preposterous! How does the Breach being there in the sky benefit anyone?"

"It is no less preposterous than you claiming to know the motivation of those behind Justinia's death," Roderick argued. "Besides, these decisions about the prisoner's fate are not yours to make! Your duty is to serve the Chantry!"

"My duty is to serve the principles upon which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor," Cassandra replied heatedly. "As is yours."

"What I do not understand, Chancellor Roderick, is why do you assume that you have the right to yet again express the will of this hypothetical next Divine," Bethany added challengingly. "Or why are we supposed to follow your interpretation of what the Divine's will would have been if she were still alive? If anything, Cassandra and I should be able to make that determination much more accurately."

"I hold more influence than you could possible imagine-..." Roderick began to speak, but a sudden knock on the doors and then the entrance of the aforementioned prisoner, escorted by the templars Lysette and Mattrin, interrupted the chancellor.

"Oh dear, I do hope this is not an inappropriate moment to intrude," Maxime smirked, looking rather pleased with himself for having managed to cut off the irate chancellor.

"Chain him!" Roderick recovered to bellow at the templars. "I want him prepared for travel to capital for trial!" Neither Lysette nor Mattrin moved even a muscle.

"Leave us," Cassandra nodded to the templars and they immediately turned around on their heels and left the war room, Roderick practically seething from the insult he had just suffered. "Chancellor, you should understand one thing," the Seeker said before Roderick could launch into yet another tirade. "The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. The Inquisition will not ignore it."

"Well, I guess this was an inappropriate moment after all," Maxime chuckled at the seething chancellor, then looking at Cassandra. "I was told that you wished to speak with me, but I can come back later..." he appeared to be turning to leave, forcing Cassandra to hastily stop him.

"Wait!" the Seeker exclaimed. "Please, stay. I believe that our... argument with Chancellor Roderick is going nowhere, and there are things that we must discuss with you, Lord Trevelyan."

"I presume it will concern something about me possibly helping the Inquisition..." Maxime grinned knowingly.

"You have already helped plenty," Roderick scowled, turning towards Cassandra and Bethany. "I will not leave for Val Royeaux without this man accompanying me, clasped in chains."

"Then I suppose you will be staying in Haven for some time yet, chancellor," Bethany remarked innocently. "Perhaps it will provide you with the perfect opportunity to see that Lord Trevelyan is not the villain you wish for him to be."

"Oh, and by the way, I had to fight through a crowd of cheering villagers just to get to the chantry, praising me as some kind of a hero," Maxime added. "I doubt that they would react well to your plan of slapping me into irons and carrying me off to Val Royeaux."

"We will see about that," Roderick hissed, but possessed the good sense to finally make a hasty exit.

"Thank the Maker for that," Josephine commented as soon as the doors closed following the chancellor's exit. "Uh, I hope that was not a heretical thing to say about a servant of the Chantry. I think it wasn't..."

"Well, the Maker is going to smite us both then, because I thought the exact same thing," Alistair chuckled, also looking relieved about the departure of the confrontational cleric.

"Still, now that Roderick has left us we can get back to the matters at hand that are truly important," Cassandra said decisively.

"I agree, because you just know that he's going to be back in a while to repeat all the same arguments again, and again, and then some more," Bethany groaned, then looking up at Maxime. "By the way, how are you feeling, Lord Trevelyan? The healers assured us that you would make a full recovery."

"I feel as if I have slept for three days straight... which I understand actually is the case," the man laughed. "But yes, I feel fine, only confused about the crowd outside, chanting my name. Last I recall they wanted to see me drawn and quartered."

"That was before you stopped the Breach from growing," Josephine said, offering Maxime a slightly demure smile. "Also, I don't believe that we have been properly introduced. Josephine Montilyet, ambassador of the Inquisition."

"Lord Maxime Trevelyan, prospective member of the Inquisition," Maxime bowed with flourish, taking Josie's hand and bringing it to his lips. "With so many beautiful women in the ranks of your organization, it is getting more and more tempting to join the Inquisition."

"I am pleased to hear it, even if you do treat the issue very casually, Lord Maxime," Cassandra said, frowning a little. "You heard the crowd outside chanting your name? What do they call you... the Chosen of Andraste?"

"The Herald of Andraste," Bethany corrected the Seeker.

"I've certainly been called worse names than that," Maxime chuckled. "Herald of Andraste, eh? People really think it was Andraste who guided me out of the Fade?"

"It does seem miraculous that someone like you would be sent to us in our hour of greatest need, someone with the power to stop the Breach from growing," Cassandra remarked. "Perhaps your survival at the temple is all a part of the Maker's grand plan? It is hard not to see things in this light."

"I am not the most devout Andrastian, but even I have to confess that on this occasion, the reality of what has happened sounds much more fanciful than some of the wildest Chantry tales," Josephine added. "Perhaps the Maker is finally revealing himself to us through these events? Or perhaps I should not go too far with these assumptions..."

"Perhaps not, but... it is clear that something extraordinary is happening," Bethany said. "And I think we should be honest with Lord Trevelyan. The Inquisition is reborn with goals of closing the Breach, finding those responsible for this tragedy, and restoring order to Thedas. But we will not be able to meet these goals without your help," she looked up at Maxime, flashing her most disarming smile. "Will you join the Inquisition, Maxime?"

"The offer is tempting, but... I would have to think about it seriously," Maxime replied carefully, though it did seem as if he was trying not to disappoint the attractive mage. "The purpose of the Inquisition is certainly noble, but... I do not think that it is ready to achieve these goals. You simply do not have the numbers, and I'm sure that the good chancellor will make sure that you are denied the Chantry support, and that carries a lot of weight all across the land. I am sympathetic to the cause, but I do not wish to join a fool's errand that will see us all killed in short order."

"It is a legitimate concern," Alistair admitted. "You have to understand that the Inquisition is very much a work in progress, work that began only recently. And we have already made a lot of headway, you would notice that if you simply walked around Haven and spoke with the people. We have had a good number of recruits already, mostly from various emissaries of noble houses, sending their representatives to Haven to see whether their relatives have survived, and to recover their remains if possible. At least two dozen skilled individuals from these groups have decided to stay with us in Haven after they had learned about the Inquisition and its purpose."

"And we expect more support, and more recruits to pour in as Josephine continues to spread the word about the Inquisition, extending our influence," Cassandra added.

"I would be happy to give you a little tour of the village to show you what we have done already, and to tell you more of our plans," Bethany offered with another irresistible smile.

"That sounds delightful," the so-called Herald of Andraste agreed readily enough. "Just to clarify, though... if I decide that I do not wish to join your Inquisition..."

"You will be free to go," Cassandra shrugged. "But you should know that only the people of Haven celebrate you as the Herald of Andraste. The others might take the stance of the Chantry and look upon you as the one who destroyed the Conclave and murdered the Divine. Right now, we, the Inquisition, are the only ones who are willing to extend you protection."

"So it's not as if we're just going to exploit your unique... talent," Alistair added. "It's a 'you help us, we help you' situation here. There are no good reasons for you to refuse standing with us."

"Hmm," Maxime harrumphed, looking a little indecisive. "You've certainly raised a lot of good points. Plenty to think about, so we'll see how it goes..." His eyes focused back on Bethany's smiling face. "Could I still get that tour before I make my final decision?" he asked, reaching out and offering his hand to Bethany, a gesture that the raven-haired mage accepted without hesitation. The two of them then left the war room together, Bethany looking back for just a moment to wink at her fellow members of the Inquisition as if to tell them not to worry, and that she would make absolutely certain that Lord Maxime Trevelyan would soon make an official pledge to join the Inquisition.

When Bethany and Maxime emerged from the Chantry, the jubilant crowd of villagers fortunately had dispersed, giving them the much-welcomed opportunity to explore the village without getting accosted and pestered on every step. Two large tents had been erected in the large square directly opposite to the chantry building, and Bethany led Maxime there, towards their first stop in the tour of the village.

"We probably should not bother the quartermaster, she looks awfully busy," Bethany pointed at the sour-faced middle aged woman, busy shouting at some of the recent recruits of the Inquisition, moving heavy crates of raw materials into the large supply tent. "She is in charge of the supply routes to Haven. It is a job that becomes more and more stressful as the Inquisition grows, as not many are willing to deliver their goods as far south as Haven."

"I can imagine," Maxime nodded thoughtfully. "One thing that I have noticed already... the Inquisition is such a ragtag band of people. Surely you have thought about forging some kind of unified armor for your soldiers? It would add respectability and make the Inquisition forces instantly recognizable."

"Yes, the quartermaster is hard at work gathering resources for our smiths to begin producing new armor for our soldiers," Bethany nodded. "Alistair is in charge of this project, I saw him and Cassandra discussing some of the potential designs earlier. I thought they looked rather impressive." She smiled at Maxime, pointing at the other tent. "Shall we continue with something more interesting?"

"What is this, a meeting place for dwarves?" Maxime chuckled, looking into the other large tent, mostly filled with mostly empty raven cages, a pair of writing desks (neither of which looked like ravens) and several trunks for storage. Amidst all this mess stood Varric, animatedly telling one of his more far-fetched stories to one of the dwarven recruits, a rather fetching lass by the name of Harding.

"No, actually this is the place from which Varric and I carry out our tasks," Bethany replied as they entered the tent, coughing discreetly to announce their presence to the two dwarves.

"And what exactly is it that you two do?" Maxime inquired.

"Why, we only manage our vast and expanding network of agents," Varric replied with exaggerated flourish, turning to face Bethany and Maxime. "In other words, I help Bethany in her work as the spymaster of the Inquisition."

"A spymaster and a mage?" Maxime blinked, looking at Bethany. "You really are a woman of many talents."

"I try," Bethany smiled demurely. "There's still a lot of work to be done to expand our network to where it needs to be. Varric already has many of his people entrenched throughout the Free Marches, Antiva and elsewhere, and he has placed them at our disposition, but we need more agents. Information means both power and influence, and it will help the other advisors of the Inquisition. Alistair and Cassandra will be able to use our discoveries to plan the actions of our armed forces. Josephine will receive plenty of secrets that she can then exploit in her negotiations with both our allies and our rivals."

"Now that you mentioned it, a pair of ravens came back with replies," Varric nodded, handing the missives over to Bethany. "Concerned influential Orlesian nobility from Lydes and Montsimmard wish to send their delegations. Sounds like they're running scared, so Ruffles will probably want to hear that. She's in charge of the welcoming committee, right?"

"Ruffles?" Maxime laughed. "That's Lady Montilyet, right? How very appropriate."

"Yes, it is, and she will most certainly appreciate receiving these messages," Bethany said, quickly pocketing the letters.

"Oh, by the way... I have something for you, Varric," Maxime grinned, tossing several small and shiny objects towards the surprised looking dwarf. Varric bent down to pick up the items from the ground, giving Maxime a questioning look once he had gathered the dropped items. "They're called buttons," Maxime explained helpfully, grinning like a fool. "You can use them to fix that jacket malfunction of yours."

"Right... right," Varric muttered, taken aback for a moment. "That's very considerate, messere, but I'm thinking I should keep it as it is. What do you think, Harding?" he looked at the dwarven lass, her freckled face blushing prettily from suddenly finding herself the center of the attention.

"I'm thinking I rather like it the way it is," she eventually replied with remarkable boldness.

"Hmm, perhaps I should try that approach," Maxime remarked thoughtfully. "It seems to have a positive effect on the ladies..."

"Please, don't!" Bethany exclaimed hastily. "I mean... we would not want someone as important as you to catch the winter fever!"

"Ah, perhaps not..." Maxime nodded. "By the way, I get the impression that you two are old acquaintances," he said, looking at Varric, then back at Bethany. "It's a bit of a wild guess, but it seems like you two go way back."

"Oh yes, it's been what... ten years?" Bethany smiled serenely. "We met in Kirkwall, after my family fled there running from the Fifth Blight. Varric really helped me and my sister get back on our feet and rise from the poverty of Fereldan refugees to regaining our birthright and becoming the nobility in Kirkwall."

"Nonsense, I hardly had to do anything," Varric shrugged. "You would have succeeded without me just as well. The Hawke sisters will always be a truly unstoppable force."

"Hawke, that name sounds familiar," Maxime mused. He then snapped his fingers as realization dawned on him. "The Champion of Kirkwall! Her last name was Hawke, wasn't it?"

"That is correct," Bethany nodded. "You are thinking of Riona, my older sister. Do you know her?"

"Only the tales of her deeds, I'm afraid," Lord Trevelyan explained. "Being a Marcher myself, I always kept an ear out for any news coming from the city-states. I heard a great deal about Champion Hawke... and now I also remember hearing that she had a sister. That would be you, I suppose." Bethany quickly nodded at that. "Where is the Champion now?" Maxime asked.

"We don't know," Bethany confessed, failing to hide the shadow of sadness crossing her face. "But we are trying to find her, even if we do not wish to overextend our fledgling spy network just to locate one person, no matter how important… or no matter how much I selfishly want to know that my sister is alive. She was last seen in Ferelden, I believe."

"Let's hope that we do find her," Maxime nodded sympathetically. "She could be a great help to the Inquisition, I'm sure."

"Of that I have no doubt," Varric added with an unreadable, slightly conflicted expression on his face.

"I remember hearing that you had more allies in Kirkwall," Maxime continued. "Perhaps the Inquisition can call upon them?"

"Well, I suppose there's Guard-Captain Aveline," Varric shrugged. "But I don't think she'll consent to leaving the city at times like these. She needs to look after the people of Kirkwall who have suffered so much already. Bran is probably not the worst Viscount ever, but he'd be lost without Aveline's help."

"And she would not want to leave Donnic behind," Bethany agreed. "As for the others, well... it's a rather depressing tally. Sebastian died when Anders blew up the chantry... and Riona later stabbed Anders, thinking that I had been in the chantry at the time when it was destroyed. Aveline also told me that Riona mentioned in her letters that Fenris got himself killed while chasing her. At least Isabela managed to escape, but we don't know where she is... do we, Varric?"

"Huh? Oh... right, right, no idea about the Rivaini, no idea at all," Varric replied hastily. "And I'd rather direct what free resources we have into finding Merrill. She was Bethany's-..." he was about to continue when Bethany quickly cut him off.

"Best friend," the raven-haired mage inserted hastily. "We were really close, and I recently learned that she has been spotted in Orlais, so we're trying to find her. She's a really accomplished mage. Anyway!" she exclaimed, giving Maxime an impatient stare. "Shall we move on? No doubt that Varric has plenty of fascinating stories that he wishes to recount to Harding."

"I like the ones about the Primeval Thaig the best," the dwarven woman replied, then grinning at Varric. "I think I'll skip the archery lessons, though. I'm not going to switch to using a crossbow, and you don't even know how to hold a bow!"

"When has that stopped Varric from being an expert on everything?" Bethany laughed, then gently pushing Maxime out of the spymaster's tent and prodding him to turn to the path left, leading up to a cluster of log houses. One of the buildings was the local apothecary where alchemist Adan made his home, his mastery of potion craft already having proven useful to the Inquisition, and as more and more recruits poured in, the aging alchemist saw a rapid increase in orders, but he was able to cope with the rising demand, even if it made him increasingly grumpy.

One of the other houses appeared to have been assigned to Solas, the elven mage standing on the porch and staring at the swirling Breach in the sky, as if to make sure it was not growing larger. It did not seem as if he had noticed them, but as Maxime and Bethany approached, Solas immediately turned towards them, giving Maxime a particularly scrutinizing stare. "The Chosen of Andraste," the elf spoke in a tone of voice that did not make it clear whether he was being earnest or mocking. "A blessed hero sent to save us all!"

"None other," Maxime replied. "I was disappointed not to see you as a part of the adoring crowd, earlier."

"Always watching, never part of the crowd," Solas replied mysteriously. "Still, regardless of my own sentiments, posturing such as this will be necessary." He turned away, walked a few steps to the right, looking up at the Breach with an enigmatic expression on his face. "I've journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations," he spoke with great pathos. "I've watched as hosts of spirits clashed to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten. Every great war has its heroes," Solas finished, looking back at Maxime. "I'm just curious what kind you'll be."

"That was a very dramatically delivered line, there. I hope it didn't take you these whole three days to come up with," Maxime commented with a slight smirk on his lips. "Anyway, I have not yet agreed to join the Inquisition."

"In that case, I apologize for assuming too much," Solas bowed lightly. "If my recommendations carry any weight, I would strongly suggest for you to stay with us. That mark on your hand... I imagine that you would like to be rid of it eventually?" Maxime nodded without hesitation. "I might be able to help with that in due time... where else would you find anyone willing and able to do so?"

"You people have a lot of convincing arguments, don't you?" Maxime laughed. "Anyway, from that dramatic line of yours, I take it that you actually seek out ancient ruins and sites of old battles, and go to sleep there? Is that right?"

"That is correct," Solas nodded, Bethany listening in with great interest. "When I dream in such places, I go deep into the Fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen."

"Fascinating," Maxime yawned. "I'm surprised you haven't been eaten by giant spiders or wild mabari while sleeping in those places."

"That is why I set wards," Solas shrugged. "And the giant spiders are easily distracted by food I leave out for them."

"Right," Maxime replied, not looking deeply interested, then thinking of something with a wicked grin. "Maybe one day while traveling the Fade you'll discover some kind of spell to help re-grow your hair."

"Do you have a problem with me or with my people in general?" Solas frowned, looking disappointed, Bethany gasping and paling a little at Maxime's unexpected rudeness.

"Well, I've had quite a few run-ins with the Dalish in my early days," Maxime replied. "They're tough bastards. But I'm trying not to generalize. I may trust the average elf less than the average human, but you did save my life, so I like you, Solas. But I will offend your sensibilities quite often, should I stay with the Inquisition. That's just how I am."

"I... see," Solas replied uncertainly. "Well, I will try to remain civil on my part, at least."

"That is good to hear," Bethany quickly cut into the discussion before it could deteriorate any further. "Perhaps Maxime and I should move on, though. I would like to listen more about your explorations of the Fade, Solas... if you would have time for me later?"

"I will be here," Solas nodded. "Watching. Listening. And always willing to speak with those who come to me with an open mind."

With that, Bethany and Maxime left Solas behind and descended down a set of snow covered stone steps to stand at the doors of a slightly larger log building, gentle sounds of the lute together with a soft woman's voice coming from the Haven's only inn. "The Singing Maiden," Bethany pointed at the doors with a smile on her lips. "The only source of entertainment here, but a rather good one at that, so I recommended stopping by later. Flissa serves ale that is actually quite decent, and yesterday a traveling minstrel by the name of Maryden Halewell came to Haven, planning to gaze at the ruins of the temple and receive some kind of inspiration for new songs. She has decided to stay with us, at least for the time being... and she is so talented that the inn is now filled up to the brim."

"I believe we should make it our final destination, one you should accompany me to," Maxime suggested to his attractive companion.

"We shall see," Bethany replied with a soft smile. "I am regrettably behind on my own busy schedule, so it might not be possible. But we should move on," she added quickly before Maxime could get in another word, leading him past the inn, down another set of stone steps towards the village gates, past Segritt's store and the infirmary where Maxime had spent most of his stay in Haven so far.

"At least the village seems fairly defensible," Maxime remarked, eyeing the massive stone gate, then looking to his left where a pair of trebuchets loomed, facing the valley on the approach to Haven.

"It appears so, though I leave such issues up to Cassandra and Alistair," Bethany replied as they passed through the gates and turned left. "There are no indications that we might come under siege, and hopefully that will not change," she added as they passed by the rebuilt stables, only a dozen or so stallions tied to their posts, hardly even a fifth of what the Inquisition required.

"I heard that most of the horses were killed in the first wave of demon attacks," Maxime remarked.

"That is the unfortunate truth," Bethany nodded. "The attack took us by surprise and we failed to protect the horses. Cassandra speaks of famous horse breeders in the Hinterlands in hopes that we might enlist their aid at some point."

Maxime nodded as they walked by the stables and arrived at the forge where the old and grumpy master Harritt together with his apprentices worked tirelessly in order to produce quality stock armor and weapons for the swiftly growing armed forces of the Inquisition. Bethany waited patiently while Maxime spent some time chatting with the old blacksmith, discussing his trade, Harritt showing some of his short sword designs to Lord Trevelyan, a few of them appearing to meet with Maxime's approval.

"My apologies for making you wait so long," Maxime said after rejoining Bethany. "I wanted to know what these smiths are capable of, should I decide to join the Inquisition. They do seem quite competent."

"I am glad to hear it," Bethany smiled in reply.

"I meant to ask why some of the crucial structures like the smithy and the stables are outside the village, unprotected by the row of fortifications, but I think I have already answered my own question," Maxime chuckled to himself. "The village has expanded so rapidly that there simply was no room for it all inside the old walls."

"Yes, I think that must be the explanation," the raven-haired mage agreed. "Though I do not believe that this village was ever built with the thought that it might have to withstand a siege." They stood still for a moment, watching the sparring ground to the right of the village gates, a large frozen field by the side of a frozen lake, covered by tents and training dummies, a dozen if not more Inquisition soldiers busy sparring or vigorously trying to hack the dummies to pieces. "Well, this is the Inquisition so far," Bethany summarized, turning to look at Maxime. "It's not much yet, but I think we are off to a promising start. But we do need a lot of help in order to succeed..."

Maxime looked into the charming mage's deep brown eyes and let out a resigned sigh. "How do I say no to someone like you," he chuckled, Bethany blushing a little from his blatant flirting. "But you have a lot of clever people at the reins of your Inquisition, and I find that reassuring."

"We are all trying very hard to do our best," Bethany nodded. "Does that mean that you will be joining us, Maxime?"

"I am leaning towards saying yes," Lord Trevelyan replied. "Especially if you would join me at the Singing Maiden later for a little... celebration."

"I will see what I can do about that," Bethany winked at the man, quietly hoping that she would manage to find a way to wriggle out of this vague commitment. "Shall we return to the chantry to inform the others?"

"Might as well," Maxime nodded, the two quickly making their way back to the chantry, heading straight towards the war room, but Bethany stopped just before entering, hearing loud noises of someone ranting angrily coming from the gap in the doors leading to the office of Ambassador Montilyet. "What's wrong?" Maxime asked as Bethany walked up to the doors, hesitating whether to enter or not.

"Seems like someone is shouting at Josie," she replied quietly, sounding uncertain.

"Well, we can't have that," Maxime spoke, chivalrously puffing out his chest as he walked up to the doors and threw them wide open without knocking, striding in unannounced to interrupt a heated argument between Josephine and a pompous looking man wearing an oddly shaped leather jerkin, a hideous checkered collar and a paper-thin mask that identified him as an Orlesian and also made him look like a clown.

"The Inquisition cannot remain here, Ambassador!" the horribly dressed man ranted at Josephine. "Even if it was founded on Justinia's orders, the things I have heard... I doubt the Divine would have approved."

"This is an inopportune time for this conversation, Marquis," Josephine sighed. "More of the faithful flock here each day to help the Inquisition. We cannot turn them away by shutting the gates!"

"Another one who thinks they have the right to decide what the Divine would or would not have approved of?" Maxime chuckled, butting straight into the conversation.

"Uh... allow me to introduce you to the brave soul who risked his life to slow the expansion of the Breach," Josephine told the Marquis, not looking particularly pleased about Maxime's 'helpful' interjection. "Lord Maxime Trevelyan, may I present the Marquis DuRellion, one of Divine Justinia's greatest supporters."

"And the rightful owner of Haven," Marquis added pompously. "House DuRellion lent Justinia these lands for a pilgrimage. This 'Inquisition' of yours is not the intended beneficiary of this arrangement."

"But you're an Orlesian," Maxime blinked. "These are Fereldan lands, every child knows that!"

The Marquis gave Maxime a disdainful stare. "My wife, Lady Machen of Denerim, has claim to Haven by an ancient treaty with the monarchs of Ferelden," he explained reluctantly. "We were honored to lend its use to Divine Justinia. She is... she was a woman of supreme merit. I will not let an upstart order remain on her holy grounds!" he argued, stabbing an angry finger almost in Maxime's face.

"And Queen Maythre recognizes this ancient treaty of yours?" Maxime laughed. "Somehow I think she'd force you to eat it before setting your ass on fire if you dared to present your claim to her."

For a moment nobody spoke, the silence so complete that they would have been able to overhear a needle dropping. "I... what?" the Marquis' eyes bulged to comical size behind the mask. "I have never been insulted like this in my entire life!"

"I am sure Lord Trevelyan did not mean-..." Josephine quickly moved in to try and salvage the situation, but Maxime was not about to let her finish the apology.

"Oh, I meant every word of it," he spoke, defiantly staring the Marquis down. "We have no reason to endure this pompous windbag, and you know it. In fact, I'll throw him out of the village myself."

"I will not stand here to be insulted," the angry Marquis declared loudly, making a swift and decisive exit as he continued to rant. "I will return with an army of my own and destroy this heretical order. And to think that I was about to give this Inquisition a chance!"

"You don't have an army, you pathetic little frog, all your Orlesian soldiers are too busy killing each other for Celene or Gaspard," Maxime mocked, following the Marquis outside and continuing to taunt the ridiculous noble.

"Oh Maker..." Josephine groaned, collapsing into her chair once Maxime and the Marquis had left the chantry, taking their row outside. "He's going to destroy what little credibility we have once he returns back to Val Royeaux..."

"Josie, I'm so sorry..." Bethany spoke gently, approaching her friend and putting her arms around the Antivan's shoulders, sensing that the other woman was close to tears from having her hard work ruined in a moment of inconsiderate rudeness. "I was the one who overheard the Marquis shouting. If I had known what would happen, I would have never come to investigate."

"It's not your fault," Josephine replied, still sounding a little depressed as she allowed the other woman to embrace her in a comforting hug that immediately did make her feel all that much better. "Bethany?" she asked quietly.

"What is it, Josie?" the dark-haired mage replied, sounding a little dreamy.

"Lord Trevelyan," Josephine said thoughtfully. "Are you really sure that he is here to help us?"