CONSCRIPTED

Have you ever walked down the street and hear someone call out your name? Shivers crawl down your spine as you wonder who is behind you that knows your name. But when you turn around, no one's there. Maybe a woman walking her dog, or a man on a bicycle, but they ignore you, standing there like an idiot. Yet, if they don't know who you are, who called your name then?

It happened to me before.

Not once. Not twice. But more times than I can count.

Sometimes, I heard a whisper floating through the wind, carrying my name to unknown places. Other times, it was like someone was happy to see me strolling down the street, like they hadn't seen me in years. Once, I'd felt someone brush against my shoulder, my name curling from their lips like they were reciting a soliloquy about my very being. Yet, no one was ever there. When those things happened, I imagined someone calling to me from the beyond, someone long dead, or maybe a creature from another dimension watching me. An angel. Or a ghost. Or a fairy.

Sometimes I hoped there was someone, anyone, screaming to get me to turn around. Someone who had been waiting for me.

It was lonely to see there wasn't a single soul. Like I was losing my mind, becoming a paranoid lunatic.

Maybe it was death warning me it was coming for me. Or maybe it was something, or someone else.

After I died as a human, though, the voices stopped and never whispered my name again.

XXX

The moment we had stepped through that steel gate, I had felt it. Familiar shivers curling over my shoulders.

It was Sera, surprisingly, who mentioned it first while we were walking down the path that lead to the centre of the village. 'The Veil is… veil-y here. Or somethin'.' She grumbled, pushing away a stray blonde hair from her freckled face.

Solas looked at her surprised. 'You are correct, Sera. The Veil is weaker here than in Haven. And not merely weak but altered in a way I have not seen.' He glanced at me, and I nodded.

'Maybe it's because of that strange time Rift?' I questioned.

'Well, whatever it is, it ain't good.' Varric clenched his jaws, looking at Maxwell seriously.

'Be on your guard.' Maxwell answered, his voice hushed.

Before us, the lanky elf that had told us about that Alexius guy being in charge, was leading us towards the tavern, where "former" Grand Enchanter Fiona was willing to speak with us. At least she was expecting us. Right?

What was left of Redcliffe, was a distant castle on top of a misty hill and merely a fairly small city centre. The path towards it was bordered with steep cliffs and ruins of stone hedges guiding our way. Flagpoles were imbedded on either sides of the muddy road, the fabric burned, and the Redcliffe heraldry barely visible. I knew this village suffered a lot during the Fifth Blight. Seemed like they weren't given a chance to rebuild much of it because of that damned Mage-Templar War.

We stayed close together as a group. Maxwell in the middle, protected by us all. People where gathering at the side of the road, gawking at us. Most of them were mages, rebel mages. You could recognize them by their tattered Circle robes. None were wearing a staff though. Maybe because they were safe here.

'Have you heard? The Inquisition has dealt with the rebel Templars. They've been driven away or killed!' a man enlightened his friend as he peeped at the Herald. I bit my lip. Did they know now half of the Templars were at Haven as independent soldiers? Would they still accept an alliance with us now? I think I would understand if they wouldn't. As we walked deeper into the village, farms turned into cottages and marketplaces. The village was buzzing, the chattering of people becoming louder as we walked by. Eyes following our every step. Some villagers who weren't mages, smiled at us, hoping we would finally take those mages from their lands. But the rebel mages stared after us suspiciously.

And among the crowd, I saw a fairly familiar face.

'Saeris?' She called after me, waving her bright long blonde hair over her shoulders, blinking innocently with her too blue eyes. Ruth. I had met her in the Circle of Ostwick. She was a snobbish little girl, not that nice. When I had first met her, she was but sixteen years old. Now, almost twenty-eight, she had grown into a pretty woman. But that sneer on her face ruined the whole thing. She would like Vivienne, if they weren't on opposite sides of the mage rebellion. When the Circle fell almost two years ago, she had rallied more than half of the mages to follow her to Redcliffe. I had figured they had perished along the way.

'Ah, hello.' Our group stopped as I answered, curious stares thrown my way. The lanky elf in front us was tiptoeing nervously. Guess he just wanted to get rid of us as quickly as possible.

'How have you been?' She giggled girlishly while leaning against a stone statue of Andraste, 'You seem good! You're with the Inquisition now? How ambitious!'

'Yeah… I am.' I smiled sheepishly. I don't have time for this. 'I'm sorry, Ruth. We are expected somewhere.' I forced a polite nod. I remember how she had called Lydia a "Templar-fucker". How could I forget? I had respected Lydia, she had been one of the few people at the Circle who were nice to me.

'Oh, of course!' Ruth clasped her hands. 'If you're done, I'd love to catch up! It's been so dreadfully long!' Not long enough.

'Of course.' I dipped my head, my tone neutral. We resumed walking then, and in my head I counted to ten. How long would it last before he…

'You knew that Circle mage, Saeris?' Solas strolled to my side, that quintessential curious look in his stern eyes.

I grinned. I knew he'd ask. 'Her name's Ruth, Ruth Cumbridge. I met her during my time in the Circle of Ostwick.'

'Looks like a bitch, yeah?' Sera almost yelled.

'She is.' I winked at her.

'She did not look too bad. Well, feisty, filled with frustrations. I can help with those things.' The Iron Bull flashed his teeth, his unsavoury thoughts clearly written across his face. Ew.

'There are enough frustrated girls around at Haven.' Maxwell interrupted.

'That's right… Hey, Cassandra!' The Iron Bull winked at the Seeker.

'No.' She hissed.

'Here we are. Please, former Grand Enchanter Fiona awaits you inside.' The lanky Elf finally stopped, interrupting our conversation that clearly wasn't going anywhere. The Elf folded his hands, and I saw the sweat drip from his eyebrow to his hooked nose.

'Yes. Thank you.' Maxwell resumed his "political figure" posture, and gave the skinny man a couple of coins. The Elf took the money, and then took off. Poof! Gone as quickly as he had appeared.

Before us stood the tavern, a stone building with wooden boards hammered over the windows. I bet inside it was really dark, since only a few beams of light could enter. "The Gull and Lantern" was written with curly letters on the signboard before the entrance. Maxwell opened the door slowly and we were greeted by the smell of ale and stew and maybe a little bit of puke. But the difference with any other tavern was the silence within. No music, no rattling of plates and tankards, no bickering and laughing. As we entered, the whole stone room was painted with an orange hue due to the flickering fire place and the lit torches on the walls. There were benches and tables, empty cups and some lost cards used for Diamondback cluttered all over the floor. Two sturdy mages, whom I didn't recognize, were standing at a table. They shifted as we came closer, clearly on guard. And behind them stood an Elven woman from her chair, a small smile on her thin lips.

'Welcome, agents of the Inquisition.' Fiona said warmly, her sharp eyes piercing through Maxwell. Last time we saw her, at Val Royeaux, I remembered her eyes looking glazed instead of sharp. 'What has brought you to Redcliffe?'

What?

Maxwell curved his back, breathing in sharply, slightly annoyed. 'We're here because of your invitation back in Val Royeaux.'

Fiona cocked her head to one side, a strand of her raven black hair escaping from behind her long pointed ear. 'You must be mistaken.' She furrowed her brows. 'I haven't been in Val Royeaux since before the Conclave.'

Maxwell looked at Cassandra for a moment, who answered with a roll of her shoulders. 'If it wasn't you who invited me here, who was it?'

The two guarding mages were staring at us equally confused when Fiona blinked and said, 'I… I don't know. Now that you say it, I feel strange.' She looked down to the ground. There was a sadness in her eyes, something broken. Strange to see such a proud woman look so utterly defeated. 'Whoever… or whatever brought you here, the situation has now changed. The free mages have already… pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium.'

'Shite.' Sera whispered as she looked up at Bull, who shook his head in surprise.

'An alliance with Tevinter?' Cassandra interrupted, 'Do you not fear all of Thedas turning against you?'

'Andraste's ass… I'm trying to think of a single worse thing you could have done. And I've got nothing.' Varric shook his head towards Fiona, who seemed more and more ashamed.

Solas took key, and his voice soothed through the room, 'I understand you are afraid, but you deserve better than slavery to Tevinter.'

Then, I also stepped up to say something, but couldn't as Fiona finally lifted up her hand. 'As one indentured to a magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you.' Her voice turned stern as she stared up at me, her eyes turning sharper. I looked back equally sharp, thinking clearly, you can't do this. This isn't right.

Maxwell tutted and folded his arms over his chest. 'What about the giant hole in the Veil that's spewing demons everywhere? You're just going to pretend it isn't there?' I saw the look in his eyes. In all of our eyes. We hadn't expected this. We came to these people's rescue with an offer of safety and alliance. And now… this.

'I'm not forgetting the Breach. But we can only fight one war at a time.' Yeah, because the Inquisition hasn't been dealing with your war and the Breach at the same time. Utterly impossible. 'The Templar threat was immediate. If we live, we can worry about the torn Veil.'

'If there's still a world to worry about then?' I clenched my fists, my voice deep. Fiona took a step back.

Suddenly, we heard the tavern door close behind us. We looked up, and saw two men approaching our group.

'Welcome, my friends! I apologize for not greeting you earlier.' An older man slowly walked towards us, dressed in a red armour and a red hood with pointed fabrics sewed on. A Tevinter magister.

'Agents of the Inquisition, allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius.' Fiona sighed, looking at the man with a slightly angered face.

'The southern mages are under my command.' Alexius said kindly, but there was a warning tone to it, like he was telling us to back off. 'And you are the survivor, yes? The one from the Fade? Interesting.' I snorted, which made the man glance up at me. Yes, I was taller, and ready to kick his ass. He had those mean droopy eyes with curling wrinkles bordering them. With his little grey goatee, he surely looked like an evil wizard.

Maxwell had gotten the sneer, but ignored it like a champion. Instead, he nodded neutrally, 'If you're leading the mages now, then let's talk. I'm sure we can come to an arrangement.' Cassandra straightened her back proudly. Good one, Max. Straight to the point. We need the mages to help fight against the Breach. Even if we have to negotiate with Tevinter magisters.

Alexius grinned, 'It is always a pleasure to meet a reasonable man.' Alexius gave me a side-eye. We don't like each other, I get it. The magister then waved his hand to our Herald, signalling him to come and sit at a table, which they did. The rest of us remained standing, never losing our cool. Fiona stared at the table where the magister and the Herald were seated at. She should be sitting there. 'Felix, would you send for a scribe, please? Pardon my manners. My son Felix, friends.'

The young man that had been standing near the entrance, came closer. He was about Maxwell's age. Felix surely had his father's eyes, but his looked kinder. His olive skin looked a little bit paler than most of his countrymen. And not in the good way. The big dark circles under his dark brown eyes were stark against his skin, and almost matched his black, shaved, hair. His face looked deadly tired, his cheeks hollow and sunken. Felix walked over to Maxwell's table and curtsied politely. His eyes didn't meet Maxwell's, though.

'I'm not surprised you're here.' Alexius continued, but I kept my eyes on Felix, who stared back at me with equal curiosity. No, that man wasn't like his father. 'Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could even attempt. There's no telling how many mages would be needed for such an endeavour. Ambitious, indeed.' His tone reminded me of Ruth a few moments ago. That tone… like they think they're better than us.

Maxwell leaned forward, 'Does that mean you'll lend your mages to our cause?'

Right then, I saw Felix look up at me determined, and then his posture changed as he started to wobble to the negotiation table.

'There will have to be…' Alexius started, but stopped immediately as he laid eyes on his son. Maxwell pushed himself up from his chair and was next to Felix in a second, catching the young man right on time. 'Felix!' Alexius whined.

'My Lord, I'm so sorry!' Felix coughed, 'Please forgive me.'

Maxwell helped the man straighten himself, and they shared a strange, long look with each other.

'Are you alright?' Alexius rested his hand on his son's shoulder, clearly, and overly, concerned.

'I'm fine, father.' Felix smiled faintly.

'Come, I'll get your powders.' Alexius dipped his head at the two guarding mages who were still standing next to the confused Fiona. The two mages walked up to Felix and helped him stand. 'Please excuse me, friends.' Alexius scraped his throat, his eyes not leaving his son. 'We will have to continue this another time.'

The mages guided Felix outside. As he passed me, he looked up, his eyes pleading. 'I don't mean to trouble anyone.'

'Fiona, I require your assistance back at the castle.' Alexius ordered. Fiona nodded silently and followed Felix outside.

Alexius turned around one last time before walking out the door. 'I shall send word to the Inquisition. We will conclude this business at a later date.' Fine, so we came here for nothing?

But as soon as we were alone, Maxwell sighed and turned to us, opening his hand. I hadn't seen he was clenching it. There was a little note tucked in his palm, and Maxwell read it aloud. 'Come to the Chantry. You are in danger.'

'That's a trap for sure.' Varric hummed.

'We'll be careful, but we need to figure out what's going on here.' Maxwell folded the note and hid it in his pocket.

'Sure, let's go to where the danger is, yeah?' Sera grumbled.

XXX

The Chantry of Redcliffe wasn't too far from the tavern. We went there immediately under the guise of Maxwell, being the Herald of Andraste, wanting to go and pray for our safe journey home. But we were going to do anything but pray.

The Chantry was a fairly large, stone building, looking quite like the one in Haven, but maybe a little bit bigger and a little bit more tattered. We walked up to the big wooden door, and immediately as we neared it, the little hairs on my arms spiked up. Maxwell shivered, and twisted his marked hand around as if in pain. The scar flared a green light, going brighter and brighter the closer we got to the Chantry.

A Rift.

Maxwell turned to us and we all knew that look in his eyes. 'Prepare yourselves.' He whispered.

Inside the Chantry was indeed a Rift drifting in the air, right above the altar of Andraste. Books laid scattered around, and most of the holy candles had been extinguished. A Wraith immediately went for Maxwell as soon as we entered. The Herald took his daggers from their sheaths to counter, but the demon screeched before even being able to haul at us.

Purple bolts of electricity surged across the room, hitting the demon in the back and crawling across its whole body like a virus, obliterating it into ashes.

'Good! You're finally here!' A man with olive skin, dark brown hair that was shaven at the side of his head, and a glorious, curling moustache, twisted his staff around, smiling at us and nodding at the Rift. 'Now help me close this, would you?'

Another rush of demons splurged from the Rift. And we went to arms once more. Again, this Rift was big, and had the capacity to warp time. Small barriers spawned across the Chantry hall, but this time, we were prepared. Looking at the flickering of the candles' flames, we could tell which barrier was time-slowing, and which ones were time-quickening. We used it to our advantage. Maxwell, Cassandra and The Iron Bull lead the demons towards the time-slowing barriers, making them unable to attack at a normal speed. Varric, Sera, Solas and I hurried to the time-quickening barriers, and fired from a distance. Shot after shot at an incredible pace. Arrows, bolts, and flares of ice and fire were leaping at the demons as fast as light. The damned creatures didn't stand a chance. As soon as the demons were killed, Maxwell lifted his hand to the buzzing Rift. They connected with a click, and Maxwell willed it to seal, until nothing but black ichor was left of it.

I hated that blinding feeling, though. Another peephole gone.

The young man who, by the looks of him, was Tevinter, stared at Maxwell. And then he grinned, flashing his perfect white teeth. 'Fascinating! How does that work, exactly?' He laughed.

Maxwell cocked his head.

'You don't even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closes.' The man grinned, and twisted his perfectly groomed moustache with the tips of his fingers.

'Yeah… Something like that.' Maxwell mumbled. 'I'm sorry, but who are you?'

'Ah, getting ahead of myself again, I see.' The man rested his hands on his hips and curtsied. 'Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?' His green eyes sparkled a little.

Cassandra, unimpressed as always, bit, 'Another Tevinter. Be cautious with this one. Saeris, could you check, please.'

I nodded and stepped forward, covering my blue eye. Dorian furrowed his brows as he stared into my emerald, buzzing pupil. 'He's just human.'

'Pfbt, boring.' Said Sera, obviously.

'Suspicious friends you have here.' Dorian remained all politeness and smiles, but looked me over with a snazzy stare. 'Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance would be invaluable… As I'm sure you could imagine.'

Maxwell left his mouth hanging open, and his eyebrows uplifted. He then looked over his shoulder to us, thinking clearly, this man has some nerve. 'You're… betraying your mentor because…'

'Alexius was my mentor. Meaning he's not any longer, not for some time.' Dorian continued, every single word perfectly pronounced. 'Look, you must know there's danger. That should be obvious even without the note. Let's start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.'

'… Please tell me it is less dangerous than it sounds.' Maxwell sighed, knowing the answer already.

'More.' Dorian said anyway. At least he's honest.

'That is fascinating, if true… and almost certainly dangerous.' Solas took a step forward, eyeing the Tevinter guy suspiciously. He stood before me, as if he wanted me out of sight. I don't need protection, though. And I think this Dorian doesn't mean any harm, or he would've attacked us already.

'The Rift you closed here? You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down.' Dorian continued. 'Soon there will be more like it, and they'll appear further and further away from Redcliffe.' That thought frightened me. These Rifts were powerful, I felt as much as I only looked through them, let alone fight against them. And more of them? Commoners won't stand a chance. They'll be slaughtered. 'The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it's unravelling the world.' I think it's already quite unravelled.

'And how do you know all of this? It's a lot to take.' Maxwell squeezed his eyes.

'Well, I helped develop this magic.' Dorian visibly swallowed. 'When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory. Alexius could never get it to work. What I don't understand is why he's doing it.' Dorian held his hand under his chin in thought, and then touched his moustache again pensively. 'Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?'

'He didn't do it for them.' Felix had entered the room terribly quietly and I almost yelped as he appeared behind me. For a sickly guy like him, he sure is skilled.

'Took you long enough!' Dorian smiled. 'Is he getting suspicious?'

'No', Felix shook his head, 'But I shouldn't have played the illness card. I thought he'd be fussing over me all day.' His voice sounded coarse, almost out of breath. 'My father's joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves "Venatori". And I can tell you one thing: whatever he's done for them, he's done it to get to you.'

Maxwell snorted and then almost laughed out loud, 'Oh, I'm flattered, but why would he rearrange time and indenture the mage rebellion just to get to me?'

'They're obsessed with you,' Felix answered, 'but I don't know why. Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?'

'You can close Rifts. Maybe there's a connection. Or they see you as a threat?' Dorian said, but Maxwell looked to me for a second, his eyes cautious. What would these Venatori do if they find out I can spot their Rifts? Would they come for me too?

'If the Venatori are behind those Rifts, or the Breach in the sky, they're even worse than I thought.' Felix mumbled, concerned.

'I should've gotten him something, all this… for me?' Maxwell smiled, and I heard Varric laugh quietly.

'Send him a fruit basket. Everyone loves those.' Dorian grinned and then sighed, back to business. 'You know you're his target. Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to our advantage.' Dorian nodded at Maxwell. 'I can't stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn't know I'm here, and I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you're ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I'll be in touch.' Maxwell and Dorian shook hands, and then the spruce man turned away, walking casually to the back door of the Chantry hall. 'Oh, and Felix!' Dorian turned around and waved at the young man. 'Try not to get yourself killed!' He then wiggled his fingers and winked at us, and disappeared.

Felix sighed, and stared after him. 'There are worse things than dying, Dorian.' After that, Felix bid us farewell and went back to his evil magister father. What kind of illness does Felix have? Could I cure it? I can try when his father has stopped trying to murder us. Let's get a hold on that first.

'Well, boss, we hadn't expected that, did we? I think I am ready for a drink.' The Iron Bull lifted his greataxe over his shoulder, a twinkle in his eyes. I had seen the Qunari checking out that Dorian, and I wondered what could happen there.

'Yeah, you're not the only one.' Varric sighed.

'Me too, guys, but before we leave, we have to go and meet someone else back at the Crossroads main camp.' Maxwell rolled back his shoulders tiredly. 'Let's hope for no surprises this time.'

XXX

'Remember how to carry your shields! You're not hiding, you're holding. Otherwise, it's useless!' A man was walking up and down in front of three armed human men, farmers as far as I could see. Maxwell had told us along the way he had gotten the order from Leliana to go check out a guy who was hanging around the Hinterlands. Rumours were this… heavily bearded man… was a Grey Warden. And we could always use one of those. The man was wearing the typical Grey Warden armour and a chest plate with a fabled and fierce griffon displayed on it.

'Blackwall? Warden Blackwall?' Maxwell walked towards the Warden and smiled warmly. The armoured farmers behind them shivered visibly. Why were these people here? They didn't look like they would even be able to lift their swords, let alone wield them.

'You're not… How do yeh know my name?' Blackwall stomped to the Herald. As a precaution, I was by Max's side in a second, shielding him if this Blackwall, Warden or not, would attempt anything. But the man ignored me. 'Who sent…'

I yelped as I heard the arrow bash into Blackwall's shield which he was holding next to my face. I stared at him, mouth wide open. Bandits then appeared from behind the dense trees of the woods, charging for us.

'That's it.' Blackwall ordered. 'Help or get out. We're dealing with these idiots first!' Blackwall unsheathed his sword and turned to the famers behind us, who turned from pale and shivering to green and almost crying. 'Conscripts! Here they come!'

There were only a few bandits, nothing we hadn't handled before. We took them out just as easily. Sera and Varric fired their arrows from a distance, while The Iron Bull, Cassandra and Maxwell charged at the bandits together with Blackwall and his scared conscripts. Solas and I remained at the side of the battle, casting barriers and glyphs and sometimes a fireball or two if they came too close. When a bandit tried to stab The Iron Bull from behind, I reacted with casting veins that crawled from underneath the ground, bursting to the surface and trapping the sneaky bandit in a prison of roots. I let the veins squeeze their culprit until he collapsed, but I didn't kill him. I don't kill unless absolutely necessary. Solas looked at me from over his shoulder, giving me an approving look. I like it when he does that.

Blackwall sliced his sword into the last bandit's guts and watched the man fall onto the bloodied ground. He sighed, shaking his head while he impaled his sword into the ground next to the dead bandit, splitting the grass beneath it. He then squatted next to his attacker, grief clouding his stern, sun-kissed face. 'Sorry bastards.' He mumbled. The conscripts were waiting next to their trainer unharmed. They had fought quite bravely, and even took out a bandit or two. Seems like Blackwall had trained them surprisingly well, even though they still looked like scared farmers to me. 'Good work, conscripts,' Blackwall roared, 'even if this shouldn't have happened. They could've… well, thieves are made, not born.' Solas nodded at that, and so did I. You're not born evil. Being evil is a choice. 'Take back what they stole. Go back to your families. Yeh saved yourselves.'

The conscripts clearly relaxed and took off immediately, back to their villages. Meanwhile, Maxwell strolled to the Warden, storing his daggers back in their sheaths.

'You're no farmer. Why do yeh know my name? Who are you?' Blackwall rumbled. He had a deep, towering voice. The voice of a general.

Maxwell rested his arms on his back, stealing Solas' favourite posture. 'I'm here investigating Grey Wardens for the Inquisition.' He smiled innocently, the way only Maxwell could. 'We're seeing if their disappearance has anything to do with the murder of the Divine.'

'Maker's balls. The Wardens and the Divine? That can't… no, you're asking, so yeh don't really know.' And so doesn't he then. Blackwall spat onto the ground. 'First off, I didn't know they disappeared. But we do that, right? No more Blight, job done, Wardens are the first thing forgotten. But one thing I'll tell yeh: no Warden killed the Divine. Our purpose isn't political.'

'So… where are the rest of you?' Varric said and cocked his head, looking up at Blackwall, who also wasn't as tall as you'd first think. And that widow-peaked beard? Is that a thing?

'I haven't seen any Wardens for months. I travel alone, recruiting.' Blackwall looked down at Varric, rolling back his shoulders. 'Not much interest since the Archdemon is a decade dead, and no need to conscript because there's no Blight comin'. Treaties give Wardens the right to take what we need. Who we need. These idiots forced this fight, so I "conscripted" their victims. They had to do what I said, so I told them to stand. Next time they won't need me.' Blackwall looked at the dead bandit on the ground as he said. 'Grey Wardens can inspire, make yeh better than yeh think you are.'

Maxwell pursed his lips and sighed. 'It's been a pleasure, Warden Blackwall, but this didn't help at all'. He then turned around and started to walk.

I ran after him, grabbing his arm while whispering through my teeth, 'Hey, what are you doing? Didn't you say we need this man?'

'Shh! Wait for it… And…' Maxwell grinned.

'Inquisition… agent, did yeh say? Hold a moment.' Blackwall called after us. Maxwell turned around slowly, barely hiding his cheeky smile. 'The Divine is dead and the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we're absent is almost as bad as thinking we're involved. If you're trying to put things right, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me.'

'Bingo.' Maxwell whispered towards me and then stepped forward to Blackwall, holding out his hand. 'Warden Blackwall, the Inquisition accepts your offer.'

Our party smiled at that, Cassandra looking at Maxwell proudly. He's becoming more and more able.

'Good to hear. We both need to know what's going on, and perhaps I've been keeping to myself for too long. This Warden walks with the Inquisition.'

And so our group got bigger and bigger. More colourful, more diverse, stronger and braver. And we would need it, because what was coming next was not for the faint of heart.

XXX

'We will not cower! We will stand and fight! For our freedom! The freedom of our brethren! And the freedom for the next generation forth! We won't let them take us back and we will certainly not give them the pleasure to hunt us down! We are done with the persecution and the prejudice! We are no monsters! STAND WITH ME, MY FRIENDS, ANDRASTE WILL SEE OUR CAUSE AND FORGIVE OUR SINS!' The spirit formed like a sturdy woman, a Circle mage, shrieked. Its voice echoing through the Apostate Camp. Not the one we had closed down, but another one, when the War had just begun and the fights had just entered the Hinterlands.

These people would never make it to Redcliffe.

The apostate group roared, lifting their staffs in the air, the cores buzzing and lighting up with pure magic. 'FREEDOM!' They screamed again. Together they sliced up their wrists, their arms, their palms, until crimson red blood flowed through the camp. I felt the magic in the air, tasting it together with the blood. Iron and fear, passion and hope. Blood and magic.

The first batch of Templars didn't stand a chance.

But the second group did. And the desperate rebel mages were cut down mercilessly.

Solas and I were sitting high up on a hill, overlooking the battle that replayed itself multiple times. Then we saw the Templars thinking they were ridding the world of abominations, and then, a scared young apprentice who just wanted to reach Redcliffe in safety, but he got caught up in the fighting, and died. There were spirits who clung to the brave group leader who screamed about bravery. And there were spirits clinging to that one older Templar who just wanted to go home and live out his life at his farm near the Crossroads. One final battle, he had said. It was his final battle indeed.

'So much death.' I sighed. But I hadn't shed a tear. I had seen too much death to know to keep my tears for when they mattered. These people were long gone, but there were still innocents out there to save.

'A tragic waste.' Solas whispered to himself. I was leaning against his shoulder, and I felt him inhale and exhale slowly. The Fade made everything easier for us both. Easier to talk, easier to relax, easier to not feel nauseous with his presence. Here, he was a friend.

'I am so sick of seeing so many wasteful deaths, so many people losing their lives… but for what?' I bit my lip as another scene unfolded beneath us. This time, it was about a Templar who was involved with one of the rebel mages in this camp. He kills her.

'You speak as if you have seen as such, was there a lot of war when you travelled Thedas?' Solas cocked his head, the question troubling his eyes again. That man was always seeking more knowledge, more mysteries to make his own. I knew he was doubting my story about me being a travelling minstrel. He knew or at least suspected something. It wouldn't surprise me if he knew I was older than I told everyone I was. Especially Solas would find out such things, he too has seen much in the Fade. Yet, why wasn't he asking me about it? He asked me about everything, but not that. What was he waiting for?

'There's always war, and there always will be.' I answered.

Solas looked into my eyes and chuckled. 'That is true, yet do not always linger at the thought of death, this world is also full of wonders for those who seek them.'

And there, another scene unfolded. Another mage and another Templar that knew each other. But only this time, the two men reached out, their fingers entangling. There was no hate in their eyes, no murder, no prejudice. They held each other, heart to heart, and then… turned away. Leaving death behind them, and choosing life. Life with each other.

They survived.

I smiled. 'Most of the times we go and see history unfolding in the Fade, the spirits cling to death… I hadn't expected this.'

'Neither did I…' Solas hushed, not looking below, but at me.

I swallowed, and for a moment, I looked back at him. At his icy, but deep eyes, and his galaxy-like freckles, at those smiling lips and… 'Where did you get that?' I mumbled and reached out for the little scar next to his eyebrow.

Solas closed his eyes as my fingers slowly stroked it. A little cut, not that deep, but deep enough.

I retreated my hand quickly as soon as I noticed what I was doing. The Fade also made it easier to forget reality. I can't do this. Not here. Not now. And certainly not with him. I shouldn't be giving him the wrong signs. It's better to keep him at bay. I can't handle anything more than friendship. 'Now, don't tell me you got it in the Fade.' I smiled faintly.

'No, I got this when I was younger.' He kept looking at me, his eyes hinting at things I didn't understand. We were all younger once? Well, what's younger for me? When I was a child I was definitely younger. Was I younger thirty years ago? But I don't change?

'A young Solas…' I mumbled and pursed my lips. 'Let me guess, you were a loner?'

Solas chuckled loudly, 'On the contrary, I was hot-blooded and cocky, always ready to fight.'

'So… nothing much has changed, huh?' I poked him in a friendly way, creating more and more distance.

'And you, Saeris?'

I grinned. 'Me too.' I sighed, and then maybe I said too much. 'I never really changed.'

Solas opened his mouth, and then closed it again. What was he waiting for? Ask me. Ask me my age. Accuse me of immortality. Say it. But Solas only smiled sadly, and closed his mouth again.

Was he afraid of asking?

'Well, I'm waking up. We've got some travelling to do. I bet Cullen and Leliana aren't going to be happy when they hear the rebel mages are meddling with time.' I straightened myself, and looked down at the scene below us once more. But there was nothing there. No corpses, no mages or Templars, not even a battlefield. It was just an empty cliff side now, overgrown by ivy and mist. The spirits were done telling stories. There were none left.

'I will await you at breakfast.' Solas said behind me.

I didn't turn around to look at his face. 'Goodbye.'