A/N: Thank you for the continued support on this story! I've been rereading what I have so far to make sure I'm not missing any plot holes...always fun to spot the little typos you swear weren't there before. sigh... I confess, this chapter has a lot of information, but more broody elves soon! Please enjoy!

Rumor and Report

Two more weeks passed. The Inquisition members currently residing in and near Perivantium kept themselves occupied with their ever-growing network of spies.

Their more powerful allies had successfully found a number of ancient Thaigs, caverns, temples, and sacred forests with magical ties old and strong enough to provide shelter against the unknown. If the sky fell and the magic of the Fade poured into the world, they would at least have sanctuaries for some of their population to barricade themselves. From what research they could afford, it was likely that non-magical humans would struggle to adjust to a world without the Veil – demons with free reign, elves with the renewed vigor of their ancestors, and Maker knew what other transformations.

They had yet to hear from the Magisterium regarding their alliance or a reply to their demand for aid against the slaves. Inara wasn't exactly offended at the lack of attention, still feeling irritated at their request. Besides, they were clearly occupied with the Qunari flooding their coastline, the disrupted supply chains, and the increasing number of refugees. From what little Dorian was allowed to tell them, their next audience would likely be soon, however.

The good news was that the main force of the treacherous Cult of Fen'Harel had been destroyed in the Dales, with help from Empress Celene's Orlesian forces. Their leader and a few stragglers had managed to escape, but they would not be causing too much trouble in the world for some time.

The Solasans had proven much harder to track, considering they were actually backed by their god. A scout had reported finding one of their camps in an abandoned elven temple somewhere in the Hinterlands; however, they had vanished by the time reinforcements arrived the next day. The Solasans were far less prone to outright violence than the Cultists, making them less of a priority until this point.

Despite the lack of actual evidence, Inara was convinced that Fen'Harel had a hand in the slave uprising. What better way to keep Tevinter in an uproar than to uproot the practice their entire culture was based on? Secretly, she admired the tactic. The slaves continued to escape and revolt, only returning to their masters for revenge and justice. The mystery champion mentioned by the Archon had set off two more explosions in slave markets across Tevinter, crippling several centers of the abhorrent trade. The Blue Wraith they called him. The attentions of the Magisterium were being torn ten different ways, allowing the Dread Wolf more freedom in his plans, and allowing the rest of Thedas room to breathe.

Inara had continued to grow in her Dreaming abilities, passing unseen by other wanderers, and identifying the different kinds of spirits with more ease. Only a few nights ago, she had enjoyed a hearty duel with a Spirit of Valor – they departed on amicable terms following a breathtaking battle on a shining plain.

The bad news was that most of Skyhold's civilian residents had permanently evacuated after a demon attack – that much they learned weeks ago. Through Dagna, Leliana had managed to learn the full story of its aftermath: Donal Sutherland and a small company had been sent to investigate. They managed to defeat what turned out to be a demon of Regret, formed out of one of Solas' murals, but the fortress was a bloody mess.

A few more tenacious Inquisition members had returned to retrieve what was left of their legacy, but Skyhold would never be the same after such slaughter. The report included word that the rotunda Inara worked so hard to leave untouched had been pulverized. Solas' beautiful frescoes were naught but a crumbling remnant of loathing and shame. The Spymaster admitted that Divine Victoria would likely have an opinion on the matter, and they began to consider potential future bases. The thought of no longer calling Skyhold home put Inara into a state of denial. Every time Leliana tried to bring up the topic, the elf waved her off, internally plotting how they might reclaim her sanctuary.

Dorian brought word from the Magisterium that the siege on Ventus had been lifted. Rumor had it that the victory was greatly thanks to a few brave souls and the appearance of a dragon, which had swooped down onto the city's main gate to rain fire on the awestruck Qunari. Apparently, the fighter who most caught the eye of his peers also happened to be a scout sent on the magisters' quest for the next Foci - the last survivor of his company. Some Tevinters hailed him a hero, a face of the people, and a sign of changes to come after he emerged nearly unscathed from his ordeal. He had been summoned to the Magisterium for his full report and would arrive within a few days.

With a huff, Inquisitor Lavellan slouched into her chair in the forward meeting room of House Pavus. Their bursting number of reports today had prompted Dorian to allow the women to take over this space.

By the time the magister returned from the day's political affairs, most papers had been read, organized, and responded to as appropriate. Two remaining letters had been saved for their host's return in the hope that they might cheer him up. He had taken the Archon's yet-unanswered request for the Inquisition's help with the slaves to heart almost more than Inara herself. He had spent his entire career attempting to build a better Tevinter.

Following a hearty supper, the trio retreated to their favorite haunt in the library. Leliana possessively carried the letters and slapped Dorian's hand away when he attempted to peek. The mage was quick to dole out glasses of brandy by the two couches while Inara stoked the fire. Eventually, they were all settled, comfortable and safe in each other's company.

Only then did the archer allow Dorian to snatch one of the envelopes – a grandly scrawled update from Varric. Attached was a thick, crudely bound manuscript. The elf curled up on the couch beside the man, sipping her drink before abandoning it to toy with the jawbone that now perpetually hung from her neck.

While Dorian hummed with interest at the book in his hand, Leliana took advantage of the delay and began with Cullen's note – a single-page sheet with several parts scribbled out and rewritten. As the Herald hoped, the commander's life had yet to be too uprooted by the world's chaos. He and some of his more able comrades had been helping to keep peace in their locale, but the reappearance of several Fade rifts had caused some difficulty. His dog was faring well, and he himself was in high spirits. Inara listened contentedly to her old advisor's simple life until Leliana reached the last sentence:

Please tell the Inquisitor that I have not forgotten her visit, and that my offer will always stand.

Inara could feel the color rising in her cheeks as the others turned their eyes upon her.

"I…was practicing in my dreams and…visited Cullen," she mumbled, failing to ignore their amusement. "I wanted to make sure he was well, considering he rarely ever writes. He said he is still willing to come to our aid, as needed."

"Certainly," the archer laughed, prompting the elf to reach for her glass. They enjoyed making her blush…

"Dorian…please, I want to know what Varric found about the champion he mentioned in his last letter. I'll take any solid information, at this rate."

Obediently, the man straightened the Viscount's note, reading out loud with increasing bravado as the brandy began to settle in his stomach. There had been a wedding in the elf Alienage in Kirkwall, though apparently the place was nearly deserted, thanks to the continued summons from the Dread Wolf. Inara reminded herself to give Varric a proper account of their search – they had found nothing that would lead to either Merrill or Hawke's servant.

Varric conveyed several bits of news regarding their other old friends, including the disturbingly calm reputation of Grand Enchanter Vivienne:

The sky could be falling, and she'd be no more miffed than if I spilled ale on her boots – maybe less. Remind me never to play Wicked Grace with her.

The next section of the letter was an explanation of the attached packet.

As promised, I have included a copy of the first chapter of my next book. (I hope the bird doesn't drop it en route.) Figured you could use a distraction. It's still a draft, so be kind, Your Inquisitorialness. I think you'll recognize some of the characters. Consider it a romantic tragedy with a douse of humor, so maybe read it with some booze handy. I've said it before and I'll say it again: If you love a character, you give them pain, ruin their lives, make them suffer. Maybe even throw in a heroic death.

On second thought, maybe it's not such a great distraction. Hope you like it anyway.

Inara raised an eyebrow at the title on the chapter's cover and instantly understood the dwarf's backpedaling: Wolfbite.

By the way, if you hear the name 'Fenris' up there in Tevinter, dodge the other way. Ya can't miss him - lyrium tattoos, white hair, and a perpetual thundercloud over his head - but if you see him, you might already be dead. Broody's been on a bit of a rampage ever since I told him about Hawke in the Fade. Hawke was good for him. Without her…it ain't pretty. Last I heard, he was headed your way, but that was months ago. Lost track of him since.

But the rumored Solasan champion I mentioned before, and this 'Blue Wraith' supposedly with the slaves…kinda matches the description. I think it's safe to say they're the same angry, glowing elf. Andraste's flaming knickers, whatever you do, don't get knocked off by this guy! I don't need that on my conscience.

Keep it touch and take care, Gingersnap. Make sure you keep Sparkles and Nightingale out of trouble.

Varric T.

Inara plucked the page out of the mage's fingers and reread the last part of Varric's message. Her companions watched her carefully.

"Inquisitor?" Leliana pried, waiting for their friend to process the information.

"We know from the magisters that there is a champion among the slaves – a former slave and assassin. And Feynriel didn't want to talk about the connection between the Dread Wolf's followers and the rebellion. This confirms that they are one and the same. My dream of Hawke, my attacker in the slave market, the red wristband…" The elf pursed her lips, fidgeting with the pages in her hand. "It's Fenris. The Blue Wraith. The champion of the Solasans and the slave rebellion is Hawke's lover. No wonder he wanted me dead."

"I suppose we are not going to divulge this information to my colleagues?" Dorian smirked, earning an abrupt bark of a laugh from the Herald.

"If I did, I don't think being trapped in the Fade would keep Hawke from coming to strangle me. I can't imagine what Radonis would do to Fenris if he was caught. But at least it is one less unknown."

Thank you for reading, and don't forget to follow and review! Coming up: More Dreams, more Solas, and a new hero!