From sky-tearing peakes of the sacred mountain

To secret-steep'd roots of the ancient oak trees

A lonesome choir, I, song falling unanswered,

Voice on wind returning, answered no more.

- Canticle of Andraste 1:4

Skyhold

12 Draconis, 9:43 Dragon

Now you understand how much I have suffered for the past year. Politicians are idiots. And I have little doubt that there are still plenty of Venatori sympathizers in the Magisterium. For that reason I can't be upset that no one has tried to kill you. Not because I doubt your ability to defend yourself, but because I wish you wouldn't have to. I wish Tevinter politics were not built on fear mongering and blood magic..

I know you are a better person than that, but if you must play their game in order to make any headway, I will put the Nightingale's information at your disposal. Should you happen to find one of the remaining Venatori we would be more than happy to provide you with whatever information you need to see them divested of all political and social influence.

If I can help you in any way, even from the other side of the world, you know I would do it in a heartbeat.

And if you need me to come up there and remind your father in no uncertain terms what I think of him, and what I will do to him if he so much as thinks of harming you again, I will. Or I will at least write him a very strongly worded letter. With your permission.

The thought of dropping everything and following you has certainly crossed my mind, but such thoughts are only daydreams. There is too much still to do here.

More bad news on my end, I'm afraid.

Another excursion, although this one is of a very different nature. No rifts, no demons. Hopefully no would-be gods, but I shan't keep my hopes up. It's bound to be dismal, regardless.

We've received a request for aid from Orzammar. Shocking, I know, that the dwarves would seek help from us surfacers. But they aided us during the war, so I'm obligated to see what we can do to assist.

What I understand from their missive - which is infuriatingly brief and vague about the specific issue – is that an earthquake collapsed one of their lyrium mines. And has potentially weakened or broken some of the seals that hold back darkspawn. So we'll be sending down a bit of extra manpower to hold the fort while they make necessary repairs.

Personally, I will be helping investigate the source of these earthquakes. Because they have been going on for months, if I understand correctly, damaging mine shafts and tunnels and whatever else they have down there. I don't know how common this sort of thing is, but in their shoes I probably would have considered reaching out for help before the earthquakes got bad enough to tear the ground itself apart.

But that's neither here nor there. They've asked, we've agreed, and I'll get to spend Maker knows how long in a dark, dismal cave praying the darkspawn don't find us.

Do not worry. I will be perfectly safe. As safe as possible, at least. And I will have an escort of dwarves to ensure I don't get lost.

Besides, worrying too much will give you grey hair. Or worse, wrinkles!

If that thought won't deter you from worrying, I can't think of anything that will.

Yours,
Idhren

Minrathous

30 Draconis, 9:43 Dragon

Amatus,

I admit I am incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of you venturing into the Deep Roads. You'll probably already be down there by the time this arrives, but please do be careful. People die down there regularly. People go there with the express purpose of dying.

I know by the time this letter arrives it will be too late to stop you. I know that nothing I could conceive of saying would change your mind once you've set yourself to something. So I only hope that you will be safe.

Please be safe.

I will be very cross if I have to go down there and rescue you.

Dorian

Skyhold

15 Cloudreach, 9:43 Dragon

Dorian,

I'm sorry if I worried you with any of my past letters. That was never my intention. Nothing has been more dangerous than anything we did during the war, but I know that is probably of small comfort. I suppose I also know that it is fruitless to ask you not to worry, because try as I might I cannot keep myself from worrying about you. And of the two of us you are in the safer position at the moment.

When the war ended I expected that I would have less work to do, but so far that has not been the case. I am still traipsing all across the countryside. And when I am not out in the dirt, Josephine has my time at Skyhold booked with as many meetings as she can schedule.

Today I met with a representative from the University of Orlais, who says they have a man down in the southern Frostbacks researching the disappearance of Inquisitor Ameridan nearly a thousand years ago.

It's a region we've had reports of lingering rifts, so I was bound to head out there eventually. But it's a remote part of the mountains with no true roads leading through. And Avvar territory, so I've been putting it off. I think the University was hoping we'd be interested in finding out what happened to Ameridan and send some soldiers to keep everyone safe. I'm doing that, of course, but I'll also be joining them.

This is actually making me look forward to the trip.

I'll be certain to let you know how it goes. I don't know how long we'll be there, but Harding is attempting to establish a permanent outpost as we speak, so hopefully I will be able to send and receive letters while I am away. That would certainly be an improvement, wouldn't you say? Now if only we could find a way for these letters to arrive more quickly, that would really improve the situation. You're an expert in time magic, perhaps you can come up with something.

I hope things are going better for you up there than they were when last you wrote. Are you still struggling to make progress? Have you and Maevaris found any trustworthy allies, or are you still alone? I wish there were more I could do to help.

Ever yours,
Idhren

Skyhold, Cloudreach 9:43 Dragon

Idhren set the pen down and sighed as he looked over the letter. He'd thought, at first, that this would get easier over time. It was only getting harder. Months and months apart with only a handful of letters was too much to bear.

He had always hated being lonely.

The flood of work was, at times, a blessing. It was a distraction. Being on the road was easier to bear than lying awake at night in an empty bed. Returning to the fortress after an expedition was a cold homecoming.

It was not only Dorian's absence, although that was the most glaring. Cassandra was gone months ago. Vivienne as well. Now Varric was leaving. It felt as though the Inquisition was beginning to fracture. Slowly people were drifting back to the lives they'd had before the world almost ended, or to the new lives they hoped to build. Slowly the world was recovering.

The thought should have made him happy.

A knock on the door pulled Idhren out of his thoughts. "Come in," he called down the stairs, rising slowly from his seat at the desk.

He heard the door open and shut, then a moment later Josephine appeared at the top of the stairs. "Inquisitor, I'm sorry to disturb you," she said. Her expression was concerned, grip a little too tight on her ever-present writing board. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"I'd just finished," Idhren assured her. "What do you need?"

"There is a bit of a situation," the ambassador said carefully. "Arl Teagan of Redcliffe arrived earlier this morning. I've tried to convince him to wait for a meeting tomorrow, as you've only recently returned from the Deep Roads, however he claims it is a matter of importance and cannot wait."

Idhren frowned. He expected such behavior from Orlesian nobles, but his experience with Fereldens had been largely more pleasant. Save the unfortunate business in Redcliffe. "I thought we'd sorted out all the problems in the Hinterlands," Idhren said. "They're not still having problems with mages, are they?"

"I don't believe so," Josephine replied, "But he would not speak his business to anyone but you. He says he's been sent as a representative of the crown."

"That doesn't sound good," Idhren winced slightly. There wasn't anything keeping him from meeting with the man, and if it would prevent a scene in the middle of the great hall he would have to put aside his scant free time and deal with this. "Tell him that I will be down shortly. Can we meet in your office?"

"Of course," Josephine assured. "Thank you, Inquisitor." She looked relieved that he had agreed. Idhren could only wonder how long she had been trying to dissuade the man. Josephine usually had the patience of a saint.

"It's no trouble," Idhren assured her. She bid farewell and then trotted off back down the stairs. Idhren looked down at himself. His clothes were a little rumpled from sitting hunched over his desk most of the day, but he straightened them, smoothed out the worst of the wrinkles, and decided they were good enough. He smoothed down his hair and pulled on his boots, then followed in Josephine's footsteps.

He arrived at her office to find the Arl pacing before the fireplace and Josephine hovering nervously beside her desk. Opening the door drew their attention to Idhren immediately, and he made certain to close it firmly behind himself so they would not be disturbed.

"Your Worship," Teagan greeted as Idhren stepped into the room. "I apologize for the inconvenience."

"Arl Teagan," Idhren greeted in return. "I'm sure you wouldn't be so insistent if this weren't important. You aren't having any trouble with our people near Redcliffe I hope?"

"Not as such, no," the Arl assured. "But that is not entirely unrelated to my business here."

That did not sound good. "Have a seat, then," Idhren offered, gesturing to one of the chairs before the fire as he took a seat in the other, "And perhaps you can elaborate."

Teagan took the offered chair and Idhren heard Josephine come over to join them. The ambassador hovered by his shoulder, ready to provide her input or make notes as necessary. The Arl spared her a glance, and then began to speak. "I've come as representative of Ferelden, Your Worship. As we've had dealings before surrounding Redcliffe and its lands it was believed that would make this matter easier. There is... how shall I say... some concern among the people of Ferelden about your soldiers' continued presence in our lands, especially now the threat of the Breach is no more."

"The Breach may be closed and Corypheus destroyed, but that hardly means our work is done, my lord," Idhren protested. "There is much that must be done to recover from the destruction that Corypheus wreaked across both Ferelden and Orlais. My people are attempting to assist in restoration efforts, much as we did in the Hinterlands when this all began."

"Of course, Your Worship," Teagan nodded in understanding. "And all of Ferelden - all of Thedas - is incredibly grateful for what you have done so far, and what you continue to do. However, you must also understand that Ferelden is still not long free of Orlesian rule. Many live who still remember the war for our independence, and they are made uncomfortable by the presence of another military might in their lands, and on their borders."

Idhren frowned slightly. "The Inquisition has no desire to usurp rule of Ferelden, or any nation for that matter," he replied.

"I did not mean to imply that you would, Your Worship," Teagan defended. "Only that some of my fellow Arls, and their Banns, are uneasy."

"Are my soldiers giving them any trouble?" Idhren asked in concern. While he understood how the presence of a foreign army might make the ruling class uncomfortable, this reaction seemed a little extreme.

"Not yet," Teagan said. "I believe some may see your continued involvement as a judgment on their ability to protect their own lands and people. You can understand, in that case, how your presence might be seen as insulting. And if tensions continue to rise among the nobility it may only be a matter of time."

So Teagan was attempting to prevent any conflict, Idhren could appreciate that. It showed more wisdom than he was used to hearing from the nobility. "The Inquisition is merely attempting to render aid wherever it is needed," Idhren explained patiently, "So that Thedas can recover quickly from this disaster. I'm certain your fellows also want the same. There are also rifts remaining in parts of the countryside that cannot be left untended. Even now we are mounting an expedition into the Frostback Basin to deal with the remaining rifts in that region."

"We certainly understand your motivations," Teagan replied. His tedious apologies were growing somewhat frustrating. "And I am not asking that the Inquisition cease its efforts at restoration at this time. I am merely here to convey the concerns that my people have. And perhaps come to some agreement that might ease minds."

Idhren sighed and glanced up at Josephine. "Ambassador, what do you think of these concerns?" he asked. She worked more closely with the nobility of their neighbors.

"I believe that their unease is understandable, given Ferelden's recent history," Josephine answered carefully. "Perhaps we might do something to assure them our intentions are purely charitable?"

"Such reassurances would be greatly appreciated, I'm certain," Teagan agreed.

Idhren hummed thoughtfully. "We are already attempting to coordinate restoration efforts with the local nobility," he said, "But we can ensure that the Arls are kept informed of any Inquisition movements through their lands. That way there will at least be no unpleasant surprises."

"That could certainly be easily managed," Josephine agreed.

"It is a start," Arl Teagan nodded after a moment of thought.

Minrathous

3 Bloomingtide, 9:43 Dragon

Amatus,

Worried? What in the world would I have to be worried about? Unless you are referring to your reckless disregard for good sense and penchant for wildly dangerous experimentation. Have you and Dagna blown up the Undercroft yet? I knew it was only a matter of time.

I must admit that I also thought you would have less demands on your time these days. I suppose there truly is no rest for the wicked, as they say. The phrase certainly applies in Tevinter.

Scarcely a day goes by that I haven't attended some sort of social or political function. There is some degree of progress. Certainly Mae and myself have found a handful of people sympathetic to our cause. The one good thing about the number of magisters we killed down south is that some of those empty seats are being filled by young idealists like myself. Not all, of course, but a few.

There are three newly made magisters that we have swayed to our side, in addition to the allies Mae has cultivated throughout her own career. My concern is that these new additions are naive and quite green to politics. They have inherited far too early and aren't truly prepared for the responsibility or the cut-throat nature of Tevinter politics.

They rather remind me of myself ten years ago, and that is quite a sobering thought. I'm sure it will make you laugh, however.

In addition to all this, I am also attempting to convince Mae to free her slaves. If not all, then most. We must be seen to lead by example, and it is difficult to speak against slavery when the most influential of our number still keeps innumerable slaves herself. She does not quite see this as being a priority. Years ago I was of the same opinion, but I no longer see how political corruption and slavery are not equal stains upon our nation.

One thing at a time, I suppose. At least we are doing something.

This newest excursion of yours does sound rather interesting. I must say I would also be interested in finding out what happened to your predecessor, if only to know what sort of fate you might expect. I hope he wasn't eaten by a dragon or something equally distasteful. Be wary of the Avvar, and do let me know what you learn.

Yours,
Dorian

Frostback Basin, Ferelden, Justinian 9:43 Dragon

The rift closed with a familiar resounding crash that echoed through woods surrounding it. Idhren was panting, breathless, and collapsed to one knee as he caught his breath. This was the second in one day, a feat he had not been forced to perform since the Veil was first torn asunder nearly two years ago. The pain of using the Anchor had been nearly unbearable without giving his arm enough time to recover, and now he could feel nothing from fingertips to shoulder.

Like the rifts in the Wastes, this one had been larger, older, more difficult to seal than the ones he had dealt with during the war. As had the one he closed this morning. It supported his theory that they continued to grow the longer they remained open.

"You alright, Boss?" Bull's voice pulled Idhren from his thoughts and back to the present. When Idhren raised his eyes from the ground he found the mercenary standing before him, splattered with demonic ichor, and holding out a hand to help him up.

"Yes," Idhren slung his staff into the harness across his back and accepted the offered hand. Bull's grasp encompassed his entire wrist along with his hand, and he lifted Idhren practically off his feet as he pulled the elf upright.

"Your hand's still glowing," Bull pointed out.

Idhren looked down at his left arm, hanging limp at his side and completely numb. Sure enough, the mark on his palm was still spitting green sparks. That was not normal. "Twice in one day is not recommended," he said, rather than admitting his own concern. Bull hadn't been out in the field with him very often during the war, maybe he wouldn't notice.

"Huh," the mercenary said. Idhren couldn't tell whether he believed the lie or not. "Guess you wanna call it a day, then."

"Yes," Idhren replied, still slightly winded. That last fight had been difficult, his hand numb and fingers unable to grip his staff properly. Now he couldn't move his arm at all. He would be useless in a fight. Or worse, a liability to his companions. "It'll start getting dark soon, anyway, and I don't want to be out here at night." He just hoped they wouldn't run into any Avvar on the way back to camp.

He turned away from Bull to check on the others, and spotted Sera poking at the gelatinous remains of some demon with a stick, alternately laughing and making noises of disgust. Blackwall stood nearby; trying very hard to look as though he wasn't highly amused by her antics. "Let's get moving," Idhren called to them, "Unless you plan on bringing that home with us."

"Eaugh, no," Sera exclaimed, and tossed away the stick she had been using. "It's gross, that is. Who'd want that?"

"Come on, then," Idhren said. He took a moment to regain his bearings after the fight, and then headed off down the path with the other three at his back.

An hour's hike brought them back to the nearest camp, and by then most of the feeling had returned to Idhren's arm. His fingers still twinged a bit with lingering pins and needles when he flexed them, and his grip felt weak. But the Anchor had returned to its dormant state and that was the greatest relief.

The sheer scope of the Inquisition's presence in this region meant even their outlying camps were more than just a circle of tents set up around a campfire. Here their people were spread out and dug in, supported by the university's people and prepared for a long-term stay. And Idhren had four walls and a roof over his head almost every night. Drafty walls, and a space he was forced to share with Sera – whose snoring was not nearly as endearing as Dorian's – but walls all the same.

"Inquisitor," he was greeted by the camp's lead scout moments after arriving.

"Farrow," Idhren replied. "The two rifts along the river are closed, you can tell your people it should be safe to move that way from now on."

The scout perked up on hearing this and smiled. "Fantastic news, Your Worship," he replied, "I'll get word to the other camps as well."

"Thank you, Farrow," Idhren nodded, grateful someone else could take over that task. He didn't have the energy to wrangle up that many runners tonight. "Any other news today?"

"Scouts up the ridge spotted a group of those hostile Avvar 'round noon," he reported. "Weren't seen, and said the Avvar were headed further into the hills. Direction of those Tevinter ruins in the northeast."

"Not the ones Professor Kenric's looking at, I hope?" Idhren asked in mild concern.

"No, ser," the scout was quick to assure. "He's safe and sound far as I know."

"Good, good," Idhren breathed a sigh of relief. "Continue keeping an eye on those paths in case more of them show up," he ordered, and waited for the nod of understanding before continuing, "Anything else?"

"No, ser," Farrows said again.

"In that case, if you could have someone send dinner to my cabin when it's ready?" Idhren requested.

"Of course, Your Worship," the scout assured, gave a little half bow, and then went off back to his duties.

Idhren sighed, shoulders slumping with fatigue, and trudged into the small, hastily constructed cabin he'd been sharing with Sera for several nights already. She wasn't there at the moment, but had deposited her bow and quiver unceremoniously on the bed before going off, likely to bother the soldiers or complain about the food not being ready. He was glad for the privacy as he stripped out of his soiled armor and flopped down onto the cot that served as his bed.

With his gloves off, Idhren held his hand up over his face and scowled at the mark emblazoned across his palm. When the magic was inactive it wasn't very impressive, a dully iridescent green scar in his flesh. And it looked no different now than the entire time it had been there. For two years he had been studying how it worked, learning how to control its magic; he liked to think he understood it better than anyone else in the world. But he didn't understand why it was acting like this now.

Out of curiosity, he held his hand away from his face and pushed the tiniest drop of his own magic into the mark. As expected, the mark reacted by flaring and spitting, as though it were angry at the provocation. And it hurt. Using the mark always hurt, but this was bad enough Idhren had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out. Immediately he withdrew his magic and the mark calmed once more, leaving him panting and wincing.

Such a small reaction shouldn't hurt so much.

Was it because he had overworked it already that day? Or was something else going on?

Frostback Basin

16 Justinian, 9:43 Dragon

Dorian,

I think you would have enjoyed this particular expedition. Not the camping, of course, I know how you feel about the great outdoors, but otherwise. This region is actually rather lovely. A bit cold, but no worse than Skyhold at this time of year.

I've been working with a Professor Kenric from the University of Orlais. Foremost expert on Inquisitor Ameridan, apparently. I read his book on the journey here and it's actually quite good, I highly recommend it if you've the time. And having spoken with him now I find him quite pleasant. I hadn't realized quite how much I missed academics until working with him.

You joke about my predecessor being eaten by a dragon, but that may not be far from the truth. He was, evidently, rather famous for dragon hunting. Something he and I have in common, it would seem. And the Avvar have some legend about a dragon from around that time.

The Avvar have been somewhat of a concern, but less than I expected. The tribe that is permanently settled in this region is quite friendly, so long as you respect them and their holdings, but they have been under invasion by another group of their people. It's these we've had to look out for. The Avvar leader claims they have formed some sort of cult worshiping their god of vengeance and war. They attack anyone that crosses their path without provocation and have proved to be the most difficult part of this excursion.

I've been forced to split my time between closing rifts, negotiating with the Avvar tribe, and assisting Kenric. But I believe we're nearing a discovery.

Avvar cultists aside, the trip has been surprisingly pleasant. And would have been perfectly safe if not for their interference. Still, at the moment they've proved little more than an annoyance. We have quite a bit of experience dealing with angry cultists, don't we?

I am glad to hear that you are beginning to make some headway in your own work. I hope your gang of young idealists serves you well. If they are anything like you were ten years ago I fear they may do something well intentioned but horrifically foolish. Keep an eye on them. And should you need further help convincing Magister Tilani to do the right thing in regards to her slaves, I would be eager to help. I can write to her, with your permission, or I can provide you with counter-arguments to any of her protests. Just because this is the way Tevinter has been run for centuries does not make it right.

I am terribly proud of you. You know that, yes?

All my love,
Idhren

Minrathous

28 Justinian, 9:43 Dragon

Amatus,

All your love? You are turning into quite the sap in my absence. Tell me again how much you miss my sultry voice and handsome face. I haven't heard it nearly often enough lately. Although I suppose you're more likely to call me an idiot and insult my facial hair. Out of jealousy, I'm sure. No one has done that for quite a while, either. It's not something I expected to miss.

Your current expedition does sound fascinating. Other than the camping, I feel I would much prefer it to my present circumstance. But I shouldn't complain.

I may not be out there in the thick of things like you, but Tevinter politics certainly never lacks for drama. Two magisters have been removed from their positions after it was revealed they had ties to the Venatori. I'll be certain to thank the Nightingale for that information, perhaps send her a nice fruit basket or some such. What does she like other than secrets and murder? I'll think of something.

Yours,
Dorian

Frostback Basin

5 Solace, 9:43 Dragon

Inquisitor Ameridan was an elf.

He was a Dalish elf and a mage.

He was like me.

Do you know how many people still spit 'knife-ear' behind my back? As though I'm not worthy of this position or their respect. As though I'm not even a person.

I will be writing to Cassandra and to Celene and we will have words.

I am sick and tired of bastard shemlen erasing the history of my people because it is inconvenient. Because it makes them look bad. Humans have stolen our culture and our homeland twice over and I will not let them continue to parade my history as their own while grinding my people into the dirt under their feet.

Ameridan was a hero, and he was one of the People. I will not let anyone forget that fact again.

I will not let them erase him again.

I will not let them erase me.