Chapter 36
Storm Coast, Northern Ferelden
The journey from Haven to the Storm Coast proved largely uneventful. Despite feeling confident of not being recognized as agents of the Inquisition, Bethany still urged her small group to avoid the larger settlements, even if it sometimes required them to take lengthy detours. Even if Krem, their guide and the member of Bull's Chargers, might have considered this an overly extreme cautiousness on Bethany's side, he did not appear to be too bothered about the delays. Still, two days after setting out from Haven, the four riders finally reached the wild northern shore of Ferelden, having to travel up and down a narrow and weaving pathway that quickly wore out the horses and made the riders feel rather sick.
"This seems very familiar, doesn't it?" Bethany managed a weak smile at Merrill, the elf riding just behind her. "Just look at the massive waves crashing against the cliffs... where have we seen that before?"
"Oh... you mean the Wounded Coast," Merrill realized quickly. "Well, it's the other side of the same sea, so I guess that makes sense. Still, it seems like the Wounded Coast was a bit more... civilized than this. The ground was more... even. This is just up and down, up and down again, until you're green in the face and about to lose everything you've had for breakfast."
"I hear you," Bethany chuckled. "Still, I think this is prettier and greener to look at when compared to the Wounded Coast. Just look at some of those mighty old firs, standing defiantly on the cliffside in spite of the treacherous gales of wind... alone the beauty of this wilderness makes me want to wax poetic."
"Well, it is quite impressive, I agree," Merrill nodded as they continued to slowly climb up yet another cliff.
"How far is it to the camp, Krem?" Bethany called out to their guide, riding ahead of the group, Solas bringing up the rear and generally just happy to let Bethany and Merrill do all the talking, listening in with a smile on his face and the occasional comment. "I think our horses are on the brink of collapsing!"
"Almost there, Lady Bethany," Krem called back to them. "I would recommend you to leave your horses back at the Charger's campsite when we head out to face the Vints. They'll be well taken care of."
"Sounds like an excellent idea," Bethany nodded, about to say more, but she was interrupted by an infernal screech coming from above her, the sky suddenly darkening as a massive shape flew over them, the wind created by the dragon's massive wings almost strong enough to knock them off their horses. "By the Maker, I nearly... did something very unladylike..."
"Uh, same here," a pale faced Merrill confessed quietly. "That dragon was huge!"
"The Vinsomer likes to make dramatic introductions," Krem laughed, sounding thoroughly amused. "The Iron Bull dreams to one day take the wyrm's head for a trophy. Maybe you'll even end up helping him, eh?"
"I'm not sure it's something we should attempt," Bethany replied a little nervously, as they finally reached the top of the cliff, revealing a larger plateau upon which the mercenaries had established their camp, six or seven large tents, and at the first glance close to twenty people milling about and taking care of their everyday tasks. The place for the camp was perfectly chosen, and while it allowed excellent vantage at a large stretch of the rocky coast, the camp itself was fairly protected by a tight cluster of firs on one side, and a large crumbled statue of clearly dwarven origins on the other side. Bethany found herself a little confused as to why a dwarven monument would be so high on the surface, but this was no time to muse about such details, for a massive qunari rose from the ground, setting aside his gaming dice and walking towards them while they dismounted their horses.
"Took your sweet time to get back, didn't you, Krem?" the qunari, clearly the Iron Bull himself, laughed as he stared down his frowning lieutenant. "Had to visit all the taverns from here to Haven along the way, huh? Never mind, never mind, who have you brought with you, I wonder? I see two lovely ladies and an elf that could not be farther from the description of the Herald."
"The Herald was busy on another mission, Your Bullness," Krem mock-bowed at his boss. "But he sent his representatives to negotiate in his stead."
"Too busy for the Iron Bull, huh?" the large qunari frowned, the sharp tips of his impressive horns glistening in the sun as he peered at the trio with his sole good eye, the other covered with a black eyepatch. "I'm thinking the Herald of Andraste doesn't really want this alliance with the Bull's Chargers if he won't come to negotiate himself."
"Oh, the Herald is very much interested in an alliance with your group, and he deeply regrets being unable to attend the meeting himself, uh... Ser Bull," Bethany finished a little lamely, cringing as the mercenaries all as one laughed at her choice of words.
"Silence!" the Iron Bull yelled at his men. "Ser Bull... I like that! I don't get called that often enough around here."
"You mean like never," Krem pointed out smugly.
"See, this is what I have to put up with," Bull winked at Bethany.
"Creators, he's as big as the Arishok, isn't he?" Merrill whispered, huddling closer to the human mage, but the winds carried the words so well that Bull was able to overhear them.
"You two know the Arishok?" Bull immediately appeared very curious, urging them to explain.
"Well, we both lived in Kirkwall for seven years," Bethany replied, pointing at herself and Merrill. "During that time, we had to deal with the Qunari uprising when they tried to sack the city. We sort of helped my sister to put a stop to that and managed to convince the Arishok to leave."
"I'll be damned!" the Iron Bull exclaimed, slapping a hand against his corded thigh. "Your sister is the Champion?" Bethany nodded demurely at that. "Do you hear that?" the qunari shouted to his men. "This gorgeous lady here is none other than Hawke's sister!" Excited whispering and some whistling followed, making Bethany roll her eyes in exasperation.
"That is correct," Bethany spoke up. "My name is Bethany Hawke, and I work as a spymistress for the Inquisition. With me are Merrill of the Clan Sabrae," she introduced her lover, then pointing at the bald elf at the back. "And Solas of..."
"Of Clan Solas," the elf deadpanned in a way that discouraged any further inquiries.
"If I might ask, Ser Bull," Bethany gave the towering qunari an inquisitive stare. "I was under the assumption that you would be one of the Tal-Vashoth, but now... hearing you mention the Arishok, and knowing about his confrontation with my sister... I'm no longer sure about that."
"Eh... damn, this is one conversation I was hoping to have after we were done taking down the Vints," the Iron Bull replied, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "But we might as well get it out of the way now. Come, walk with me," he nodded to Bethany, the two of them walking a little away from the camp, though Merrill made sure to stick to Bethany's side at all times, looking as if she did not completely trust the qunari enough to leave him alone with her lover, despite Bull's amiable exterior.
"So... you ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?" Bull asked once they were away from the ears of the others.
"A little," Bethany replied, wondering where the qunari was going with this. "Most think that they are some kind of a guard force, but I think they're actually more like spies."
"You've got it in one. Spies, that's us," Iron Bull nodded, clearly enjoying the surprised looks on the faces of both women. "Look, the Ben-Hassrath are just as concerned about the Breach as anyone. Uncontrolled magic like that could cause trouble everywhere. That's why I've been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and then send reports on the Inquisition's progress. But I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. If you sign me on, I'll share them with your people."
"So... that's what this is all about," Bethany replied weakly, realization dawning upon her. "I thought that it was very strange for a mercenary company wanting to sign on with the Inquisition. Now it all makes sense, especially when Krem would not answer my questions about how much this venture would cost us. This isn't about earning profit as mercenaries... you just want to do whatever is required to join up!"
"Well, we need help with the Breach, right?" Merrill suggested timidly. "Even if the qunari can be quite... frightening. The demons probably also find them just as frightening!"
"If only it were that easy, Merrill..." Bethany sighed.
"By that your friend refers to how much we qunari are distrusted amongst you Chantry loving folk," Bull chuckled at Merrill.
"Well, I am Dalish," the elven mage shrugged. "I'm not sure we're trusted any more than you are."
"I think the difference is that people in the South perceive the qunari as more of a threat than the Dalish clans, and I don't mean any offense by that," Bethany remarked. "Personally, I would find a tentative working alliance between the Inquisition and the Ben-Hassrath very useful. It might lead to a greater understanding between our people, and even if it does not, as Merrill rightly said, sealing the Breach is in the best interests of everyone, the qunari included. My worries lay elsewhere..."
"Sure, he's big, but he can't eat that much," Merrill remarked, critically examining the Iron Bull's massive, muscular frame.
"What?" Bethany blinked. "No, it's not the Inquisition food stores that I'm concerned about," she laughed. "It's the Herald's reaction when he learns that Iron Bull is a Ben-Hassrath spy. With Ser Maxime I simply don't know how he will react to such news. Ugh... I don't know what to do," she sighed, covering her face with her palms.
"We could just keep the truth from him?" Merrill suggested.
"Sooner or later he'd find out," Bethany shrugged helplessly. "And if he learns that I have lied to him... I don't know what he would do. He already gave me quite the tongue lashing in the last War Council meeting, so I'm not exactly the most popular advisor right now."
"I could never ask a lovely lady to take such a risk upon herself, especially on my behalf," Bull winked at her. "I'll give it to the Herald straight once we arrive in Haven. If he's the kind of man worth working for, he'll recognize how useful the Chargers can be. Especially if I tell him that if I'm not allowed to work for the Inquisition and send reports back to Par Vollen, the qunari are simply going to launch a massive invasion into the South to take care of this mess themselves."
"But the qunari can't seal rifts in the Veil like the Herald can!" Merrill protested.
"Well, they don't know that unless Ser Bull tells them," Bethany replied, realizing the simple yet clever scheme.
"You're much more than a pretty face, aren't you?" Bull gave Bethany an approving stare. "I wouldn't expect anything less from the Champion's sister, though."
"Why thank you, Ser Bull," Bethany smiled, making a small curtsey at the qunari. "I believe that this just might be enough to convince the Herald... or at least put him in a position where he is unable to refuse your offer. So be it… I hereby officially invite the Bull's Chargers to join the Inquisition."
"Excellent!" Bull rubbed his large hands. "Let's get back to the camp then! We have plans to discuss and Vints to smash!"
"Are you certain this is wise?" Solas walked up to Bethany and Merrill as they were following the Iron Bull back to the Charger's camp. "The Qunari practices are... abhorrent."
"I don't disagree, but I think he is here to help with the Breach and not to convert us all to his beliefs," Bethany replied quietly, seeking not to offend Solas, and judging by his slightly conflicted but overall approving expression apparently having been successful.
"Right," the Iron Bull bellowed as everyone gathered in the middle of the campsite, facing their qunari leader in anticipation. "We've already discussed the plan, so this will be more for the benefit of our Inquisition guests. Also, the plan bears repeating just to be sure it gets through some of the thicker skulls!" There was some grumbling from the other Chargers but it died down quickly. "So, the Vints have their camp near Morrin's Outlook. That's the strip of land stretching into the sea over there," he waved in a vague northwestern direction. Peering between the thick fir trees, Bethany could see a large outcropping cliff which from the distance seemed to be reaching some way into the sea. Atop of the cliff, there was another large dwarven monument, similar to the one that stood half-crumbled next to the Charger's camp.
"What's with the dwarven statues both here and at their camp?" Bethany asked.
"No idea," Bull shrugged. "Rocky can probably explain," he nodded at a stocky dwarf with grime coated face, standing nearby. "Our resident exiled dwarf and demolitions expert."
"Just an old marker for ships coming in to trade with the dwarves," Rocky shrugged.
"Wait… ships coming to trade with the dwarves here?" Merrill blinked at the unexpected explanation.
"Sure," Rocky nodded. "Ever heard of a place called Daerwin's Mouth?" Bethany and Merrill both shook their heads in unison. "It was once a great dwarven port connecting all the dwarven thaigs to the Waking Sea. It was where they made their dealings with the Vints, back in the ancient times when we all got along. Before the First Age, the dwarves had a very strong presence in this region, but then the sodding darkspawn came and forced the dwarves back to Orzammar, and all the passages to Daerwin's Mouth were sealed. The place hasn't seen use in millennia… not by dwarves, anyway."
"Maybe the Tevinters are interesting in using the old port?" Bethany wondered. "Why else would they even be here?"
"No idea," the dwarf shrugged. "But we checked all the known passages into the port. The seals were all holding solid. Could be they're just sniffing around, though."
"Well, that's enough of the history lesson," Bull cut into the conversation again, looking a little bored. "Let's move onto the plan itself! Morrin's Outlook is a very defensible position... but not as good as the Vints think it is. They know we're here and looking for them, but they feel confident that as long as they sit in their camp, we won't dare to attack. We're going to prove them wrong."
"What makes their camp so secure?" Bethany asked.
"Basically, there's only one narrow path into the camp, and it stretches between two steep cliffs," Bull began to explain. "The Vints think that as long as they control the path, they are safe. You're probably going to ask whether the cliffs can be scaled, and the answer is, yes, it is possible. But if we were to climb the cliffs, the Tevinter mages would just pick our men off one by one."
"So we're going to use the cover of the night, yes?" Bethany smiled at the qunari.
"It's so obvious, right?" Bull laughed. "For the entire past week we've been scouting their guard rotations. Lately they've grown so complacent that they've even stopped lighting the torches at the bottom of the cliffs, which means that when our people scale them during the cover of the night, they won't be seen. We'll have two groups of six climbing the right and the left cliff respectively. Once in position, they'll hit the camp from the flanks, setting tents on fire with some of Rocky's best stuff. This is going to draw the guards away from the passage, at which point our main force is going to storm the camp and crush them. Sounds good?" The Chargers responded with a raucous roar.
"Are we going to climb cliffs?" Merrill whispered a little nervously to Bethany. "I didn't bring my climbing shoes," she added her prepared excuse ahead of time, a remark that would have sounded strange to the others in any case, since Merrill was a strange shoe-wearing oddity amongst the Dalish.
"We would not ask our esteemed guests to scale cliffs for us, don't you worry," Bull chuckled, grinning at the three Inquisition agents. "We know it's not something you mages excel at. We're not going to ask that of our own mage," he pointed at an attractive blonde Dalish elf, leaning on her elaborate staff, and frowning at her qunari leader.
"I've told you so many times already, boss, I'm not a mage!" the woman complained loudly. "That'd make me an apostate."
"That staff is a bit of a giveaway, Dalish," Krem laughed at the elf.
"It's a bow!" the woman glared at him.
"Sure, and what's that glowing crystal on top for then?" Krem chuckled, shaking his head.
"For aiming," Dalish frowned at him. "It's an ancient tradition of my people that you wouldn't understand."
"It's alright, Lady Dalish," Bethany offered politely. "None of us are of the kind to report fellow apostates. Besides... the Chantry is in ruins, and the Templar Order has been disbanded by the Inquisition. I think the word 'apostate' has officially lost any meaning."
"Well done," the blonde elf smiled at them, then turning back to the Iron Bull. "See, boss, this is what happens when you drag us through these middle of nowhere places for months. None of us know what's happening out in the world!"
"Alright, that's enough, Dalish," the big qunari grumbled before continuing to explain the plan. "The groups of six have already been set. Grim's going to lead the first group," he pointed at a stony faced blonde human who didn't seem like the mouthy type. "Skinner will take care of the second," this time he nodded at another female elf, but unlike Dalish, Skinner was dark-haired and noticeably lacked any vallaslin on her face, not to mention the cold, predatory look in her eyes. "Are there any questions?" Bull asked.
"Just one," Bethany smiled. "When do we leave?"
Bull looked up at the sun still high in the sky. "Soon," he replied. "We can't just march down the coastline. They're going to spot us coming a mile away. No, we're going to have to make the long trek around and go through the Morrin's Steps. It's a system of caves with an exit close to the Outlook, making it the perfect place from which to arrive unnoticed."
"I was just thinking... if we're not leaving presently, we have other tasks to attend to," Bethany told the qunari. "We are supposed to meet two Inquisition spies who are waiting for us with crucial information. The directions they gave us were not very clear, and none of us know the area, but... they spoke of an abandoned hunting lodge?"
"Ah yes, I know where it is," Bull nodded. "Stitches, here," he pointed at a dark-skinned human with a friendly, easy going smile, "told us that before the Blight some Ferelden banns used those lodges during their hunting trips. They've been standing there abandoned for the past decade. But yes, we can leave right away and make yet another detour to check up on your spies."
"Don't think you'll like what you're going to find there, Inquisition," Skinner, the dark-haired city elf, stated coldly.
"You know something, Skinner, spit it out," Bull glared at the elf.
"Saw Blades hanging around the lodge when I was out on my morning patrol," the elf shrugged.
"Who are these Blades?" Bethany asked.
"Yeah, the Blades of Hessarian," Bull winced. "They're a strange bunch. I'll tell you about them later, because right now we should probably hurry up. Your spies might be in need of assistance." Skinner frowned at that, appearing confident that the spies were already beyond any help, but the Iron Bull looked in no mood to tolerate any more backtalk, so the elf wisely stayed silent and some quarter of an hour later the large group of the Bull's Chargers together with three Inquisition mages set out from their camp to travel across the challenging terrain.
After almost an hour of very exhausting walking, the uneven gravel path constantly weaving and running up and down, the large group finally came within the view of the bann's old hunting lodges. Bethany felt rather embarrassed about being so winded and completely out of breath; feeling like her back was drenched in sweat under the heavy mage robe. Solas was coping much better, climbing in his light step, not even breathing heavily. The only relief for Bethany came when discovering that Merrill also found the journey very exhausting, putting a pretty red blush in the elven mage's cheeks, her brow glistening with perspiration. The landscape around them was wild and picturesque, but because of her exhaustion Bethany was not able to truly appreciate it. Still, what she saw certainly gave her a good impression on why the area was not more densely populated, having served only as exotic and dangerous hunting grounds for the bored Fereldan nobles.
"There are the lodges," Bull pointed at the buildings. "Don't see any Blades hanging around there now, but still best to be cautious. Krem, Skinner, with me!" he ordered two of his lieutenants to follow, together with the Inquisition mages starting to creep towards the abandoned buildings as the rest of the Chargers remained on the gravel path, waiting patiently.
"All quiet," Krem reported, first to reach one of the lodges and take a peek through the window. "Damn. Not good," he commented with a grim look on his face.
"I take it that our spies are dead," Bethany sighed, following Bull and Skinner into the lodge itself, the others entering behind them. The sight that greeted Bethany made her both sick and angry at once, especially that of the dead female spy. The elven male had simply been stabbed several times in the chest and left to bleed out on the floor. The human girl lay on a nearby table, looking like she had been held down forcefully, her pants pulled down to her ankles. Following the perverse sexual assault, her throat had been slashed, at least granting her quick death.
"Told you so," Skinner commented with an indifferent expression on her admittedly beautiful face that somehow also held a tinge of cruelty.
"I don't know who these Blades of Hessarian are, but... I want them to suffer," Bethany snarled angrily. "How dare they do something like this to our spies? Why would they?"
"Let me explain a thing or two about the Blades, then," Bull gave her a hard stare. "From what I know, they're actually more of a cult than simple bandits. Quite secretive too, I asked others in Ben-Hassrath to dig up information about them, and it seems like this cult has not been seen on the face of Thedas for over four hundred years."
"They're going to wish they had stayed hidden," Bethany growled, together with Merrill quickly restoring some of the dead woman's dignity by covering up her exposed body.
"The thing is, they follow their leader blindly, for they believe that he has been chosen by Andraste," Bull explained. "He's also supposed to be carrying the original Sword of Mercy."
"You mean the blade with which Archon Hessarian freed Andraste?" Bethany huffed. "That's a likely story. I saw about thirty cheap replicas of it during my time in Kirkwall. Their leader probably just uses one of such replicas."
"Oh, I agree," Bull nodded. "But the important thing is that the others believe that it's real. You see, their deference to the leader is so strong that they would never do something as heinous as that unless being specifically ordered to do so," the qunari pointed at the dead woman. "I'm thinking it's probably the work of the leader himself. From what we have learned, the man is a despicable piece of shit. Fortunately... there is a way to simply dispose of him which does not involve killing all the other Blades who might have had nothing to do with this."
"Hmm... I'm listening," Bethany frowned, not feeling completely convinced, but willing to hear out the qunari's plan.
The Iron Bull simply produced a beautifully crafted amulet somewhere from within his deep pockets and presented the inlaid serpentstone to Bethany and the others. "Mercy's Crest, it is called," the qunari said. "Wear one of these, and the Blades of Hessarian will be forced to treat you with respect. It should even allow you to challenge their prick of a leader."
"It's that simple?" Bethany gasped in surprise. "Is that why you had the amulet ready? You planned to challenge their leader?"
"Wouldn't that also make the rest of the Blades follow you?" Merrill added, her eyes widening a little in realization. "It would be a funny sight to see those cultists following a qunari chosen by Andraste!"
"Yeah, I was planning to get around to that," Bull nodded. "Two reasons. First, the Blades are a skilled bunch, well trained. I could have found uses for them. Second, like I said their leader is a complete and utter prick. If those mindless cultists are going to be led by someone, it might as well be someone decent."
"Decent like you," Solas stated, a little challengingly. "Would you have perhaps guided those sheep over to the Qun?"
"I don't really care about that," Bull shrugged. "And in order to prove that, I'm giving the amulet to you, Hawke," he passed the necklace over to Bethany. "Do with it what you will. Challenge the leader of the Blades, dispose of him in a duel and you'll have a group loyal to you personally and to the Inquisition. Or wipe them all out if you want, it matters not to me."
"I appreciate that, Bull," Bethany smiled as she took the amulet. "I don't think the three of us can wipe out the Blades, but I agree that removing their leader sounds like the wiser course of action. Also... please, don't call me Hawke. That is how everyone knows my sister. I'm just Bethany."
"It's a deal, Bethany," Bull grinned at the raven-haired mage. "Now, would you mind telling me what your spies were looking for in this forsaken corner of Thedas?"
"Sure. I mean, you've been upfront with us, we might as well answer with the same," Bethany nodded. "My spies had discovered signs that the Grey Wardens had been traveling along the coast, and they were trying to find them. It seems as if they were unsuccessful... but perhaps you have seen Grey Wardens here on the coast?"
"Grey Wardens? No, I don't think so," Bull shook his head. "Krem, Skinner?" he looked at his lieutenants.
"I'll ask the men, but I don't think we'll learn anything," Skinner shrugged, Krem nodding in agreement. "If someone had seen the Wardens, they would have mentioned it."
"Right," Bull nodded. "Krem, get some of the men to dig up two graves and give these good people a decent burial. You can catch up with us later."
"I appreciate that, Ser Bull," Bethany smiled at the mercenary leader. "You do seem to be a decent sort."
"But not to the Vints," Bull grinned. "Well, maybe with the exception of Krem," he added, slapping his lieutenant on the back so hard that he nearly toppled Krem over. "Anyway, we should start moving. By the time we get to the Outlook it will already be dark... just in time to hit the Vints."
Several more hours of tiring walking later, mostly spent traveling through narrow and treacherous caves, infested with giant spiders and deepstalkers, the Chargers and the Inquisition agents emerged on the rocky beachfront to discover that Iron Bull's prediction had proved absolutely correct and the sky had already darkened sufficiently for them to put their attack plan into action. It was only a very brief journey for them to advance further into the small peninsula before they saw the lights from the Tevinter camp, surrounded on both sides by steep cliffs. Staying a respectable distance away from the narrow passage into the camp, Bull wasted no time in dispatching the two already prearranged groups to take care of their assigned tasks, the men and women of Bull's Chargers company sneaking towards the cliffs, dropping down on their bellies and crawling a large portion of the way to remain out of sight of the Tevinter guards. Once they reached the cliffs, however, they were in relative safety from the prying eyes of the guards... provided, of course, that none of the twelve chosen mercenaries fell while scaling the dangerous obstacle.
Understandably, it took quite a long time for the Chargers to finish climbing and get themselves in position for the attack. Bethany was very much relieved for this break in action, happy to sit in cover behind piles of rocks and rest her sore feet, chatting quietly with Merrill and Solas, silently praying that none of the Chargers would fall from the cliff. "Get ready," Bethany nearly jumped when Bull suddenly spoke to alert the remaining group. "The guards are starting to look a bit twitchy. They might have heard something."
"Do we charge?" Krem asked anxiously.
"No, we still wait on the signal," Bull replied. "Once it comes, my group will charge in. Bethany, you and the cute elf are with me."
"I guess by that you must mean Merrill," Bethany chuckled. "Even though we both find Solas cute as well." Solas merely sighed at that comment, though he did also appear a little flattered.
"I agree," Bull nodded with a big grin on his face. "Solas, you stick with Krem, Dalish and their group. You're holding the passage to make sure that none of the Vints get away. We wouldn't want them to report back to their masters."
"Understood," Solas replied simply.
"Any moment now," Bull whispered harshly, leaning out from the cover and trying to observe what the passage guards were doing, noticing that they had started to carefully move back towards the camp. "Let's go," he waved, starting to quietly move in the direction of the camp as well, making use of the fact that the guards had turned their backs on them. Moments later, there was a massive flare up inside of the camp, some of the tents suddenly catching fire, alarmed screams breaking out and the entire Tevinter camp fell into sudden panic at the completely unexpected attack.
As Bull, Bethany and Merrill together with some of the Chargers accompanying them arrived at the camp, they saw that many Vints already lay dead and Skinner and Grim's people were busy fighting the others. Those who rushed out of the burning tents, screaming and on fire, were easy pickings, but some of the tents had remained unscathed and the Tevinters emerging from them looked ready to do battle, some of the mages looking particularly outraged about the daring attack.
"Stick with the old routine?" Bethany took a moment to ask Merrill, receiving an immediate nod. Pull of the Abyss laid down so that it reached the entrance of all the unscathed tents dragged the hapless Tevinters into a giant pile of bodies, Merrill then unleashing the wrath of the Elvhen to drain the blood of their enemies, rending them from the inside and paralyzing them. Iron Bull exploited the advantage and leapt amidst their surprised and disabled foes, cleaving left and right with his mighty greataxe, sending limbs flying until none of the unlucky Tevinters were left standing.
"Is that it?" the massive qunari laughed when the last Tevinter went down with his ribcage split open by a tremendous blow. "Pathetic!" he commented, looking around and frowning when only silence answered his challenge. "Skinner, Grim, I want a report now!"
"Clean job, boss," Skinner shrugged, while Grim merely grunted in reply. "Only two injured. This was way too easy."
"You didn't even leave any for us!" Krem complained, together with his group arriving to join the others at the burning camp. "Sixteen dead Vints and we didn't even see one up close!"
"All down to some excellent planning, I think," Bethany remarked, nodding approvingly at the Bull. "Consider the Inquisition very much impressed by your organizational skills and professionalism."
"Told you we'll be useful for the Inquisition," Bull grinned at her, then turning back to Krem. "Let the throat cutters finish up. I don't want any of these Tevinter bastards getting away."
"Uh... boss, you're kidding, right?" Krem blinked as he surveyed the battlefield. "I've seen tidier butcher shops than this. They're not crawling away after you've gone and split most of them in half!"
"Err... good point," Bull chuckled, wiping his brow with the back of his meaty hand. "Well, in that case... I hear there are some casks of wine back at the camp, waiting for our return. Shall we get back and celebrate?" The men replied with raucous cheers, making the large qunari laugh as he good-naturedly shooed them away, looking very pleased with the successful outcome of the assault. "You're more than welcome to join in our celebrations as well," he offered to the three Inquisition mages as the Chargers started to file out of the burning Tevinter camp.
"We'll be more than happy to take you up on that offer, Ser Bull," Bethany smiled. "But first I wanted to check the Tevinter tents to see if we can find some sort of a clue as to what they were doing here."
"Makes sense," Bull nodded. "Well, go see to it, I'll wait until you're done and then escort you back to the camp. Truth be told, now you've made me a little curious as well."
Half an hour later, however, Bethany was forced to admit a disappointing defeat. "Bah! If there was any incriminating evidence, it must have been in one of the tents that burned down," she frowned.
"I suppose we'll never know," Merrill was quick to commiserate.
"Probably," Bethany nodded. "I'm still thinking that they might have been interested in that old dwarven port, but for what reasons... who can say."
"Might I suggest we return to the camp before the Chargers have emptied all the casks?" Bull spoke up.
"That sounds like an excellent idea, Ser Bull," Bethany smiled at their new ally. "Lead on!"