"If the Venatori are involved, we must secure that site," said Cullen to the Herald at the war table, "With your permission, I can send soldiers and fortify the area. We've enough men on hand not to leave ourselves defenceless in the meantime."

"Have it done, Cullen. I want our researchers protected."

"First and foremost, the cave needs to be defended from infiltrators," Fabriel pointed out. "We cannot lose that entrance."

"Our options need not be mutually exclusive, Dragon-Slayer. I can send lookouts to watch for anything suspicious. If we have advanced warning, our defences will be able to rebuff any assaults, and we would save both the outpost and the people stationed there."

"The Beast Glass should be our top priority," argued Josephine. "Without it, the Venatori can do nothing. I can discreetly contact some merchants in Val Royeaux and have a safe delivered for it."

"It can be stored in my quarters. Unless Sera has some 'pranks' planned for me, it should be safe there." Cullen told them. Fabriel was not certain he was comfortable with the idea – he wanted the vial as secure as possible, even if it meant he had to bear the burden himself – but Dorian squeezed his arm in a soothing way and he decided not to voice his concern. The commander was a capable man, and perhaps it would help distance him from the mission.

"Good. Then we have a plan. Fabriel can keep the vial with him until Josephine has a safe installed in Cullen's room. Leliana, ten of your fastest spies should be enough to cover Cullen's soldiers and warn them of any danger."

"I'll arrange it now," she said, and with a short bow the spymistress exited the room.

"Dorian and I are going to read some of those files Lady Montilyet received from the archives," the Dragon-Slayer said. "If there are any problems, we'll be in the rotunda."

The pair left as soon as Damien allowed.


Fabriel had spent hours on those notes, and could find not one that spoke of the research site. The more he read, the firmer his conclusion became – that the site was funded by a magister, one that for whatever reason had had enough interest in dragons to invest a large amount of coin in their study.

Dorian had since retired, and though he had promised he would join soon Fabriel had not yet followed him to the tower. The light of the braziers was soft and lulled him on occasion, but as he shoved file after file aside his concern started to mount. He calmed himself with thoughts of Dorian, that he would figure out who the magister in question was and if his family had some idea of what he was up to.

"Vhenan."

His father's voice made him start. He quickly settled as Solas approached.

"Have you discovered anything of use?"

"No," he replied, "though I didn't expect to. It all seems to point to an independent study. Dorian has started to narrow down a list of families he believes the magister behind it could have belonged to."

"The Imperium hides its secrets well," the elf noted as he sat across from him. He saw the concern written across his son's face, and saw that vial hanging from his neck. It reminded him of a noose.

"It does. But Dorian knows how to uncover them. I trust him to find out."

He rubbed his eyes to urge the sleep from them.

"What did you need, Father?"

"I had hoped you would be asleep," he said as he produced an envelope from his pocket. "Josephine received this today. It's addressed to you, from Tevinter."

Fabriel paused and looked up from his research. The envelope was sealed, but the wax did not have an insignia – a mark of secrecy, and one that he dreaded. As he took it from his father, the rider felt a slight jolt in his heart.

"Ah." He said. "I…expected this."

"What is it?"

"I…can't tell you. Not right now."

Solas seemed as though he wanted to argue, but thought better of it. Instead he rose to his feet and went towards the rotunda door.

"Very well, vhenan," he said. "If you change your mind, come and find me at the Herald's Rest."

With that, he left the room. Fabriel sat in silence for a moment before he collected up the letter and quickly departed for his tower.


Dorian awoke to the smell of the fire and the sound of glass clinking. As he blinked the sleep from his eyes, the mage stood up and draped a gown around himself before hurrying down the stairs.

He found Fabriel there, sitting on his chair as he stared into the fire. He had a glass of wine with him, and a half-empty bottle stood near his foot, the cork left next to it as though forgotten.

"A little late to open a new bottle, but I can get onboard," he said as he came to sit beside him. His lover made a little noise of acknowledgement. "Is something wrong, amatus?"

"I received a letter," he replied. "It's no matter. I expected it. Right now, I just want to drink and forget." He reached down and offered the bottle to Dorian. "Join me?"

The mage accepted. He poured it into a spare glass Fabriel had left on a shelf nearby, and as he settled back into his chair he tried not to prod him, leaving the air silent and empty until he was ready to speak. For a while, the only sound was that of flame crackling and their drinking.

"We should talk about the future." Fabriel soon said. It caught Dorian off-guard, but before he could respond his lover went on, "Not now. Not with this around my neck. But soon."

"What's spurred this on?" he asked.

"There's much of this mission that we still don't know, and far too much that can go wrong. I felt a conversation about what we expect from each other should I survive would be a good idea."

"'Should you survive?'"

"Let's not discuss it now," he said. "Let's just…forget."

After some hesitation from Dorian, the pair drank.