Bull inhaled the cinnamon and clove scented air in Josephine's office and stopped to look at the flames for a brief moment. The last few weeks had worn his nerves down enough to leave him feeling perpetually tired. But now, knowing that at least everyone was in relative safety - or that he was close enough to gouge the eyeballs out of one particular threat's skull - he finally felt his tension unwind. And Josie's office always smelled so damn good.
He continued on his way down the hall to the war room, sipping the strong ale from the mug in his hand. He walked in on Leliana and Lavellan plotting over the map. It looked as if the two red-heads circled the war-table like they were stalking prey; all of Thedas, ripe for the machinations of well positioned, well informed schemers. Bitter well informed schemers.
"The Iron Bull," Leliana welcomed the Qunari. "Pleasure to see you again, particularly when you bring news."
"Yeah, you too, Red." He lifted his giant mug of ale, accompanying it with a tired nod, "don't mind me, finish up."
"If you say so…" Leliana obliged and continued on.
They've been at it for days, it seemed; fleshing out ways to leash the Orlesian throne without being direct or obvious while they waited for Cassandra's word. Buying out foreign trade agreements that would leave merchants relying on Inquisition protection and routes; Inquisition sanctioned research expeditions to garner the support of the Universities and scholarly elite; funding and aid in reconstruction efforts; anywhere they could gain a foothold in the sidelines, the Inquisition seized the opportunity. No obvious power plays and display of military might, no outright presence in the Courts. It wasn't needed, when the Inquisition slowly weaved its control and influence into the source of wealth and power of Orlais.
It wasn't nearly as boring to watch as Bull thought it'd be.
"And now I believe it is your turn," Leliana's blue eyes fixed on Bull, who was beginning to feel the fuzzy edges of the mild inebriation. He was hungrier and more tired than he realized. He set the mug down and leaned over the table.
"Not yet. First, I want answers. The fuck happened?"
Leliana raised her brows at Bull's casual use of profanity. She sunk her hands beneath her belted tunic into the pockets of her trousers and stared at Lavellan.
The elven woman hadn't expected anything less out of the warrior. "And I promised them to you."
"How'd you disappear?"
"Well… I got shoved off a mountain."
Bull frowned. "And yet you're walking around with nothing but a couple new scars? Better yet you were well enough to get into a tavern brawl days after?"
"Believe me I was no less confused. What I thought was a tumble off a mountain was hardly more than two stories into a huge snow drift. Zevran stabbed me with a poisoned blade and evidently I hallucinated my own death and was out cold for three days. Same for Dorian. We were badly bruised, obtained a few new scars, and a couple strains, but it beats death."
"And why are you keeping that asshole around?" Bull practically spat at the mention of Zevran. "At least tell me you were leaving him for me to beat into pulp?"
"Tempting offer… but…" Lavellan leaned forward on the table, scowling.
"We need him." Leliana answered for her.
"You're shitting me. For what?"
Leliana reached into her pocket and pulled out a small coin. "Perhaps you've seen, or at least heard of one of these before, yes? A high stakes contract from the court. The assassin freely handed this over to our Inquisitor the night before his ruse. Had she known what it was right away, this may have gone a little differently."
"Or not." Lavellan muttered.
"A contract with who?"
"The Lioness herself. Empress Celene Valmont. She turned to her Ambassador and former lover, Briala to complete the task. Even if she acknowledged the risk of her plans being twisted, I doubt she could have imagined what had transpired."
Bull snorted back a laugh and shook his head. "I'll say it again, you're shitting me."
"No, dear Bull. I am not shitting you." Leliana grumbled in annoyance.
"There's no telling what exactly Celene sought through Briala. What did end up happening wasn't even in Briala's plan." Etain briefly recalled the events of the weeks she and Dorian had been gone, being careful not to deviate from what she had told Leliana and the others.
"You're giving me whiplash." Bull said dryly once Etain had finished her swift and unembellished recollection.
"Then how about we switch gears and you lead the way for a little while." Leliana suggested, tired of his lack of input.
He answered her with a mildly irritated scowl but obliged nonetheless. "The Chargers found where you went in, right before Red's scouts caught up to us. Cleared out that old ruin with little to find. The mirrors were nothing but that. Mirrors. There were four of them, but only two intact. That would explain how they got back in so quickly to catch up to you in the Labyrinth. But without a key they're just fancy glass. We did see that they were amassing stores before moving on. Supplies, weapons, armor, maybe artifacts. Maybe looking for something. Whoever was chasing you is part of a larger contingent. With several forward scouting groups."
"Well, at least that confirms what we presumed." Leliana shrugged, unimpressed. "What else have you got?"
"Don't be so quick to think I would leave you disappointed, little Red." Bull smiled wryly.
"Don't you have eating and drinking to get to? Don't drag it out."
"We caught two of the bastards."
Etain and Leliana both stared at the Qunari, as though they had both misheard what he said.
"One of them succeeded in killing herself before we could even properly restrain her. The other failed and only ended up making himself a withered lump of flesh for my boys to try and mend up on his way here."
Leliana's gaze was glued to Bull and she approached him eagerly. "You caught one? He's alive and heading here? When will they arrive? Where did you find them?"
"See, and you were so sour faced just a minute ago." Bull chuckled.
"Tell me already or I'll lock you out of the tavern."
"Oh, playing harsh are you now? I'm down for some rough fore-"
"I swear to Andraste, if you don't quit-"
"Bull, just tell us." Etain raised her voice, cutting their spat short.
"I left a few days ahead of them, so end of the week? We got them by accident. Stepping right out of one of the mirrors on the other edge of the ruin."
"Convenient."
"Easy for you to say," he rumbled and held up his forearm, displaying a freshly stitched gash.
"Hardly more than a scratch," Leliana waved him off and cocked her head to the side. "I am more interested in what you were able to get out of them."
"Like I said," he raised his arm a little higher to motion at the injury once more, "they weren't exactly cooperative. The surviving one was still barely breathing when I left. Getting him to talk will be your job once he gets here."
Leliana tapped her fingers impatiently while she thought. "What did you do with the body? And were they the only ones that came through? Have your men run into trouble with agents chasing after the captives?"
"Nothing, yes and not yet. Don't waste your breath, Red. My team will be here soon enough. Til then, all I know I've told you the gist of. They're agents of whoever is playing hide and seek with the freaky mirrors. They operate in small, quick moving teams and regroup somewhere we can't go without the key. Whether they kill our men or abduct them, we don't know. We haven't gotten any ransom demands. No threats."
"Which begs the question whether they want us to know or not? Or whether they know we now have one of their own…"
"Yeah, well. Can't solve that one tonight, so won't." Bull picked up the ale mug and twisted it, emphasizing its emptiness. "Time's up, ladies. I've got drinking to get to."
Leliana's upper lip twitched into an annoyed snarl, but she didn't press the issue. There wasn't anything more she'd get out of him or be able to do about it tonight. Not with Varric leaving and the festivities.
"Consider yourself lucky that I agree. Enjoy your night." Leliana dismissed a man who didn't much care for dismissal or permission. He winked at her just to annoy her a little more. Maybe that'd get her to drink a little more that night.
"Let me know when you want to throw that shifty little fucker out of Skyhold," Bull turned his attention to Etain. "Or I can… Over the wall."
Lavellan frowned but smiled, "Don't ask me that if I'm drunk…"
"Oh, I'll remember that," Bull said with a smirk and walked out of the war room in search of a refill.
"Well… too bad you won't be here when my present arrives." Leliana turned and leaned against the war table, crossing her arms and letting her guard down. Etain had noticed the woman had gotten more comfortable around her, and actually found it comforting in return. Not that she ever imagined the Left Hand of the Divine would ever become a… friend?
"You'll handle the dilemma better than I would." Lavellan mirrored Leliana's relaxed stance. "What's your plan?"
"Either I get information out of him or I don't and he becomes useless. And I'm sure he knows that."
"And if he doesn't say anything?"
Leliana held her gaze and inhaled. "Not a lot of options there, then. Maybe I'll wait for you to decide the hard part. Keep him in suspense. Might get me an answer or two."
"Wait for me?" It was an uncomfortable thought.
"Mmhm. Because I handle interrogations… differently. An asset that doesn't provide information can still be an asset. Or puppet."
Deshanna's long lost human sister. Etain was sure Leliana and her aunt would get along too well. She swallowed, thoughts shifting to what she would do with such a prisoner.
"Someone who had resigned himself to dying for his cause won't provide information easily."
Leliana nodded slightly. "And won't be afraid of death, so that could be a useless threat, if he is truly committed to his cause. There is no leverage if he has no family, no loved ones. What then?"
Ah, she's trying to get me to say what she aims to do. To agree with her. To see if she could handle these ugly, cruel aspects of their power and influence. Etain turned to face Leliana. "Then threaten him with the one thing that would be worse. Especially for a spy… Send him back to his own."
Something glinted in Leliana's eyes and she tilted her head. "Send him back?"
"The organization would probably have found the other body and the ambush scene by now, and know that the other member of the patrol was captured. Makes him a liability more than an asset at that point. The agent tried taking his own life, but was stopped by Bull's men. Means he is committed to their mysterious cause… or he fears the consequence of his capture more than he fears death…" Lavellan mused. She inhaled and shook her head, continuing. "Look at how tightly knit and secretive they are keeping the operation. Who ever is in charge probably won't risk any leaks, tolerate any fumbles, to keep their objective and their organization veiled and protected. Especially with us running into their operations in the Labyrinth."
"We do not know that for a fact."
"We don't, but based on what we've seen, it's a possibility. Besides, what are the chances they would expect us to send back a captive? Without demands. With nothing but a show that we had him."
"Headgames."
"Precisely."
Leliana glanced around in thought for a brief moment. "Then we agree, and I have your cooperation. No matter what may be necessary."
"Of course."
Leliana nodded and pushed off the table, the racket in the throne room growing louder as Josephine set up the festivities. "Let's keep this between you and I for now. And… sneak out of here before Josie ropes us into arranging table decorations."
How much must Etain's world have twisted if the two of them could casually have a conversation about impending interrogation tactics and not wanting to be pressured into helping setting tables in the span of one minute.
Unsettling. Or it should have been, but in truth, Lavellan didn't feel anything of the sort. Even more unsettling.
She headed toward the door with Leliana. "Let's hope it's not too late for that."
The dust was thick against his fingertips as Dorian perused the collection in the Skyhold cellar. He frowned and grimaced at some of the home-brewed varieties, nodded at the growing collection of northern reds.
"I suppose this'll just have to do," he murmured. Didn't really matter what he chose, so long as it helped him numb the sinking feeling he felt.
Reality seemed especially cruel that day; he was fool enough to fall for someone he could never even acknowledge back home. His own people would deem it the darkest betrayal to his bloodline, and to his nation. Pariah status would be an understatement.
Were that his only problem. The Magisterium was roiling within, partly because of his friend Tilani's doing. She and her compatriots sought reform and control, neither of which would come easily even if she were able to garner overwhelming support. Which Maevaris wouldn't, given how adherent to appearances and propriety and tradition the Magisterium was.
She needed his help, and her urgency was less than subtle in her missive. He had to go home, there was no more time for him to give to the Inquisition. He would have to leave, sooner than Lavellan would like to know. A month or two, at most, he could spare. Then he would have to leave his closest friends, and his attention would return to his home, to trying to change the Magisterium from within.
Hopeless feat, that. Dorian snatched another bottle. One wasn't going to be nearly enough. Especially if Etain was in a foul mood alongside him.
He sighed and rounded back to the door to make his way through the fortress. His thoughts remained on his homeland.
The Magesterium is busy squabbling, all while the Imperium is barely standing on its own feet. I hate to even think it, but it doesn't make it any less true - Tevinter is weakened. Couldn't have gone unnoticed by the Qun.
He'd heard little on the matter from his contacts lately. They all had focused on the internal shifts of the Empire, another scruple with a trading contract in Antiva, a secured agreement out of Kal-Sharok. They needed more; exclusive contracts, more open trade, a stronger economy to build and maintain the power and grandeur of their empire. Armies needed funding, be they brute-force soldiers or mages, and everything in between.
Wrapping his mind around just how he was going to help accomplish that left a painful buzzing in his ears. So instead he sighed and plodded the long way up the stairs to his dearest friend's haunt.
The door was unlocked, and the grand bed chamber seemingly empty. The fire was blazing in full, and candles were lit all across the room. Etain walked in from the balcony and shut the doors. Dorian glimpsed a messenger falcon pass by the windows and glide lower into the valley.
Lavellan turned to him and smiled. He made a face and motioned with his chin toward the windows.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Sending secrets now are we?"
The crafty smirk reached all the way up to the corners of her eyes as Lavellan shrugged her shoulders. "I'm keeping in touch with home by my own means."
"Can't say that isn't just plain common sense." Dorian approached her, looking at the late afternoon skies behind her. He held up the hand carrying the bottle.
"We're drinking again?" Lavellan's words weren't so much a question as they were a statement. Dorian set the bottle down on the table and retrieved two cups from a nearby shelf.
"We have good reason." Dorian poured himself a cup. "It's perfectly justifiable. Not that I care…" He handed her the other one.
"For the drinking or the reason?" Lavellan accepted and slumped back on her sofa, propping her feet up on the cushion empty and adjacent to her.
"Does it matter?" Dorian asked.
"Guess not."
"Mm-hmm." He glanced through the stacks of books on her desk and the collection of architectural doodles Etain had created. The places he had seen with her, the things his eyes had been opened to on their journeys was mind-boggling, considering his upbringing. Considering the strengthening implications of having a best friend with cryptic access to the history and knowledge of one of the world's most ancient civilizations.
His gaze fell on a small shred of parchment, marked with handwriting belonging to someone else.
"I thought these may interest you…" He read outloud, amused by Etain pressing her lips together tightly enough to hide them. He couldn't help but chuckle. He thought about tearing into to her about that little development, but remembered he wasn't in a place where he wanted to talk about his own.
"You and I…," Dorian shook his head and leaned against the desk, "are idiots."
Etain fought the chagrin making its way to her face and fell flat. So instead she raised her glass in acknowledgement.
"They're idiots too." Dorian added before swallowing the contents of his cup.
"I don't know if that makes it better or worse." She said, staring into her wine.
Dorian refilled his glass and turned back toward Etain, looking a little more solemn.
Etain's eyebrows inclined upwards, seeing as her goblet was still mostly full. "It is Varric's last night here. You may want to keep your wits about you…"
"A prudent choice, yes. But it's also precisely the thing I wish I could care less about."
The elf nodded lopsidedly and took another sip of her wine. "Rough day?"
Dorian didn't answer for a few moments, hanging his head low in thought. He smiled. "I don't like feeling tired before the real fun even starts. I get the feeling there's a heaping mess stewing back at home, and the magisters are doing everything to mask it with opulence and arrogance."
"Politics. Not sure that's much different from what is happening in Orlais as we speak."
"Orlais isn't poised for another war, and isn't run by power-hungry megalomaniac mages greedily eyeing the rest of Thedas, ready to tear their own apart as soon as everyone else. They're a threat to the rest of Tevinter, and to the rest of the continent."
"Aside from the mage part - I still do not see how that is any different from Orlais; it's a nation ravaged by civil war, all ruling powers bitter and still ready to jump at each others' throats. Celene is desperate to shackle the Inquisition to her own rule and turn attention to Tevinter; Ferelden is shitting themselves over our presence and where our alliances lie. They fear for their own independence. Orlais had almost been unraveled by the war and events of the last two years, and everyone else sees a chance to keep it in a weakened state."
Dorian shrugged. "In other words, Corypheus may have tried, and failed in leveling Thedas to the ground for his own empire… only to leave the door open for all of us Thedosians to do it for him. Question is, who will be left standing?"
Lavellan sunk lower on the couch. "The way we are starting, I barely know if I'll survive tonight, let alone leave the Deep Roads and you're asking about the grand future?"
"You're right, no need to start waxing philosophical so early in the night." Dorian sighed deeply. "There will be plenty of time to do so here in a short day or two. And figuring out the answer to that exact question is pretty much our job description… Fuck all of that for a night."
Etain squinted at the mage. "Really rough day."
"Month. S." He corrected. "I still don't know what to do with everything we've seen in the Eluvian Labyrinth."
"You and me both." Lavellan glanced at the goblet in her hands and deliberated internally. She sighed and shrugged.
"You know, I'll take your advice…" She finished off the contents of her glass. "Fuck it all for a night…"
"Don't say that around Zevran."
Her lip curled into a grimace and she leveled Dorian with a glacial glare. "We should head down. Josephine has been planning Varric's farewell dinner for weeks, and I already weaseled out of helping her set the centerpieces. I'd hate to get on her bad side."
"We can't stay up here in denial and seclusion forever? How unfortunate."
"Creators, you're lively company tonight." Etain mumbled as she pushed herself off the couch. "Let's go, we can mope around when Varric leaves."
The official gathering to bid Varric farewell lasted a good portion of two hours, the inhabitants of Skyhold sharing in the hearty meal and loading up the back table with gifts, however small. It was all small talk and polite, idle chatter without much meaningfulness. Varric couldn't say it was uncomfortable or awkward, but he wasn't thrilled by all the formality either. Especially after a head start on the drinking with Cullen. Didn't start hard enough. Should have made him drink more.
That was the other thing. The whole affair was still too courtly for him, even if it wasn't by Josephine's standards. It was his last night here and everyone, even people he'd barely seen around Skyhold, were invited to be there. That meant that he wasn't left to banter freely with his friends, and they were dispersed through the throne room and busy with answering questions themselves. Not the start he wanted. Dorian and Bull had barely said two words to each other before being separated by side conversations. Etain never even made it past the first table, leaving Cullen visibly tense trying not to look or run into her, but wanting to. Yeah… not exactly how I pictured tonight going… but I shouldn't complain.
Slowly, finally, the guests trickled out once they had their fill. Some headed for the tavern, others for bed. As if on queue, Varric's colleagues drifted closer, bringing their cups with them to sit at one table together. Josie was shepherding out a few drunken dignitaries and swearing to Varric that she would be back soon, just in time for a long awaited card game.
Etain had stepped out for a while to speak with one of the resident merchants about possibly procuring a new contract sent by Wycome. Eventhough nothing was decided that night, it was good news to hear the shift of power in the city state didn't impede on its ability to trade too much. It would come in handy when Varric returned to Kirkwall.
He sunk down into the chair at the head of the table, the rest of the group falling in beside him and brining whatever caught their eye from the other tables. Sera claimed a spiced apple pie all to herself and Bull brought the casks of mead.
"You know the rules. If I cry, I'm punching someone." Sera warned before tearing into the pie.
"As long as it's not me," Dorian smiled and leaned on the table, accepting a glass of honeyed wine from Leliana, who sat down next to him.
"Or me." She added.
Varric was surprised to see the Nightingale alongside everyone in the group. She didn't seem to be one for the run-of-the-mill bullshitting and drinking they were used to doing. But, it was his last day - Maker, it gets worse every time I think it - so he welcomed the challenge of getting her to unwind.
Sera made a face at Leliana, "Pfftt. I'm daring, not stupid."
Cullen brought the extra cups, sitting down across from Leliana. "Should be enough," he muttered as he spread them out along the table.
"Give it enough time and we won't need them at all." Varric handed his empty cup over to Bull to fill. The Qunari filled it, and his own, then proceeded to steal a bite of Sera's pie. The elf grumbled in protest through the food in her own mouth, trying to wrestle back her fork.
Bull relinquished the eating utensil and wiped his mouth,"Too sweet for me anyway."
After the brief clamor and soft chuckles, they sat quietly for a moment, the bitter feeling of saying goodbye too heavy to ignore but too hard to acknowledge. For Varric it was a sore spot; an experience he wasn't prepared to go through yet again. At least last time, he'd left Kirkwall with his best friend.
Maybe if luck turned its tides he'd see Hawke again, home.
"Can we not do this… thing?" Varric finally shook his head. "This whole serious farewell shit? I'm not falling off the damn planet, just going home. No big deal. Let's just have a good night and drink."
"Yeah I'm useless with goodbyes too." Bull agreed.
"Alright. I have an idea then." Leliana spoke up, looking at the people gathered for a moment. She smiled and finished her drink.
It took a good hour for Etain to make her way back to the throne room with Josephine. Lavellan had rescued her from the inebriated, half-philosophical, half-diplomatic and all nonsensical bumblings of their Orlesian guests just in time. Even Josie's patience was wearing thin, and her diplomatic manners.
"That was the last time I offer the Orlesians our aged Antivan brandy." She grumbled, fixing her hair as they walked through the gardens back to the throne room.
The closer they got to the door, the louder the ruckus was from within. Lavellan and Josephine exchanged worried looks. It sounded like the drinking had gotten well under way while they were gone, and considering the company, it was a dangerous game to play walking in on them sober.
"Blessed Andraste, this is going to hurt, isn't it?" Josephine pressed her lips together and entered the hallway.
"Yes. Tomorrow it will. Definitely. Maybe even the day after."
The ambassador raised her chin and inhaled deeply. "We've faced far worse odds… right? Let's not go down easy, shall we?"
Lavellan frowned but laughed. "Josie, we're just drinking, not going to battle."
"With Bull and Varric? One and the same." She pushed open the door and they walked through.
They stopped in the doorway, wide-eyed, and observed for a moment. The whole lot of them were definitely past their first cups. Cards were strewn about on the table, evidence to an unfinished game. Cullen was actually laughing, for Creators' sake. Laughing. An occurrence about as rare as sunshine in the Fallow Mire. What they were laughing about was even more unexpected. Bull, Varric, and Cullen had just finished some sort of game of rattling off a mildly uncivil tongue twister dug up from the barracks and taverns of Kirkwall. One mistake, and a drink was due. The shocking part was Cullen's triumph over the other two. Leliana toasted him and took a long drink, cheeks pink and rounded with a smile.
Cullen's eyes sobered up for a split second, recognizing the Inquisitor's attention on him and the entire spectacle. Even drunk, his self-control forced his shoulders to tense and his posture to straighten. Though it looked less subtle than he may have hoped, alerting the others to the arrival. Bull shoved him to stop staring and get the two newcomers to the table already.
Josephine approached the table hesitatingly, eyeing the seat next to Leliana. Cullen hadn't gotten to the edge of the table before Lavellan started walking, saving him the needless trip. She childishly didn't feel too thrilled on having to sit next to the human, but that was the suppressed guilt and indecisiveness. She tried on a smile, but it felt strained, so she poured herself a drink instead. That seemed to be the only thing on anyone's agenda for the rest of the night anyway.
"Josie," Leliana grinned and leaned her head briefly against the diplomat's shoulder. "What took you so long?"
"Sweet Andraste, I leave you all for one hour…" She shook her head and accepted the glass from Leliana. "At least you all had the smarts enough to wait until after the guests all left…" She sighed and glanced at the cards and small glasses of liquor awaiting the losers. "They don't have to watch you all fumble up the oldest drinking game this side of Thedas."
Sera threw her head back and practically cackled. "Knew she wasn't prim and proper as she puts on!"
Leliana tsk-ed and playfully glared at the ambassador. "There are variants, Josie. Just because it isn't the original doesn't make it wrong."
Josephine took a preliminary sip of her wine and stretched out an open palm to collect the cards. "Let me show you all how it is done. Properly."
While she explained the differences and instructed Bull to rearrange the drinkware on the table, Lavellan used the opportunity to check on the man sitting uncomfortably next to her. Cullen was deliberately avoiding looking her direction and giving all too much attention to gathering the cards around him.
She bumped her knee against his, secretly enjoying the faint nervous twitch it elicited from him. He handed off the cards to Bull and turned to Etain.
"Thank you…" She kept her voice low, "for the books."
"Of course, Inquisitor. Just… trying to help how I can." He matched her volume. He seemed uncomfortable with the fact, or maybe with talking to her. Though Lavellan was inclined to believe the former had a large impact on the latter. For someone who grew up in the Chantry, helping a Dalish Inquisitor research relics and ruins considered heathen would be - by no stretch of imagination - leaping out of the comfort zone. Out of what he knew and grew up with. Add to that her sudden disappearance and their lack of communication on what happened just prior to that, they were indeed in a strange place. She understood that. But the fact that he still tried was endearing.
"I don't know how to play this one," she whispered, trying to get foothold on getting back on his good side. He looked at her for a quick moment and glanced at the Ambassador.
"Then it might be a good idea to listen to Josephine… and no, I will not take it easy on you."
Lavellan leaned forward, folding her arms on the table. "Still upset with me?"
He smiled, though it wasn't warm or playful, mostly because it didn't reach his eyes. "No, Inquisitor."
He turned to the game instead of talking further, leaving Lavellan stuck somewhere between slightly ashamed and mildly irritated. Mostly with herself. She turned to her glass and gulped down half of it, mentally preparing herself to put her thoughts aside and endure Varric's farewell party with a smile on her face.
The intensive scowling had left his face aching, so much so that Solas had to remind himself to relax his muscles. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. He'd grown less forgiving with time. And now, with a chance to sit and ruminate over the quandary that was the Crossroads, his temper flared.
Progress was slower than he would have liked in clearing the ancient pathways. And every ruin he rediscovered was hardly more than that; a ruin. Another brutal gouge at a wound that refused to heal.
Time hadn't been kind to all the knowledge and treasure the forgotten fortresses once harbored. Without the intrinsic magic of the Fade, half of the bones of the old world were unrecognizable and completely devoid of their original purpose.
It felt as if he was breaking into a grave robbed tomb with each Eluvian he reset. All while the present world around him kept shifting and advancing along its own path without a second thought toward him.
His forward scouts continued reporting on what the Inquisition was weaving and where they sent their spies. They seemed to be everywhere. Had it not been for the Eluvian network, they would have actually put a significant damper in the efficiency of his own operatives. They were exceeding his expectations, and it made planning the future that much harder.
Spending over a year within the Inquisition gave Solas more than an unfair advantage of outplaying the organization. Not that his sheer experience in matters of politics and war wasn't enough to completely eclipse that of the Advisors and Etain combined. Even so, they had resources and influence that he yet lacked.
Then there was Briala, a nuisance from the start. But no longer. It was all the more irritating that someone was with her in the network. Reports ranged from just two people to five. Humans and elves. The mere fact that they were able to evade his agents and leave the coded score reeked of trained operatives. The trick with the music wasn't one he had run into very often.
Not to mention, whoever they were, they were able to escape without a key. They found an Eluvian to lead them to the outside world without Briala. She wasn't the only one with access to the network.
Morrigan.
He had ventured to the Crossroads, as she called them, and found her Eluvian shattered. He may as well have caught her red-handed, breaking the one way into Skyhold she knew of. Then the question turned to how much the witch had revealed to the Inquisition. And whether she had Inquisition agents alongside her.
Did Etain hear of it yet?
Undeniably, some gut instinct whispered to him. His agents would have to get much more covert about their recruiting tactics, considering how quickly the Nightingale had picked up on their activities. More than that, he would have to reevaluate the situation inside of Skyhold and the moles within the Inquisition.
Someone wasn't doing their job. So they became expendable, and served as a distraction for Bull and his Chargers, while the rest of his agents regrouped. Offer up the spymaster the weakest links and let her think she stumbled upon a lead. It wouldn't change anything in the long run.
The incident in the crossroads, and in the Fade, had left him inattentive. That was the other advantage the Inquisition held over him. Etain.
Lavellan sees me in her dreaming, where she hadn't before. She is listening to the servants of Mythal, and she is learning. It was an unnerving thought. Or perhaps an overreaction. She did not understand what she was seeing, or who. To her, their run-ins were merely odd dreams, blunders of the Fade.
He picked at his fingers, listening to the rustle of the trees beyond the arches. She was his favorite riddle, ever growing more complex. She was reaching far beyond anything he could have imagined, and her renown was becoming a little too familiar for comfort.
Solas thought about checking on her, visiting her in her dreams tonight. To see what the infamous Inquisitor was up to, to track her movements and the direction she would lead her expanding organization.
He needed to plan with Inquisition movements in mind, but that did not mean keeping tabs on Lavellan directly. Though that would be the more expedient route. So why not pick any of the other mages in their ranks? The rational side of his psyche questioned.
Because I am weaker than I care to admit… He wanted to read her memories like an open book, to see what twists of fate had turned her into the creature she was today. To see who she would become tomorrow. All so he wouldn't ever underestimate her again.
Knowing she had the Well, the direct link to Mythal, left him feeling like she was pulling the rug right out from under him. Another loose end he let slip, and will have to take into account sooner or later.
But maybe not now. Not tonight. There were still too many strategic technicalities to flesh out before he could turn to dreams. Those could wait. Replacing infiltrators, coordinating efforts in Orlais and securing the last few regions of the network did not allow for wasted time, or careless planning.