Chapter 32: Arlathan Expedition

Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls Series or the Dragon Age Series.

Elder Scrolls belongs to Bethesda and Dragon Age belongs to Bioware

A/N: Sorry everyone for the wait but writing is harder than it looks. Thank you for waiting patiently and I hope you like this chapter. Leave any comments you have.

17th of Solace, 9:45 Dragon/ 17th of Sun's Height, 305 4E

It was a long journey, longer than they had expected. From the occasional bandit raid to fighting Tevinter deserters to even look for transportation through Imperial territory. For the Champion and his group, it was all quite exhausting.

A nap would come here and then but as of today, they had gone a whole day without any shenanigans. Simply a peaceful carriage ride through the plains of Antiva. It seemed to be too good to be true yet that was the fact. However, life it seemed would only allow them respite for so long.

"We're here, folks."

The steady motion of the carriage halted without hesitation and awoke its occupants near simultaneously. Groans and moans from the young elf and Tevinter mage bellowed out as they shielded away from the sun. For Varric and Marcus came up just a bit wide-eyed, their sense of where still trying to find them. Save for Fenris and Hawke, there was no alertness among the group.

"Is… is it morning already?" Merrill asked, yawning as she stretched up.

"You were supposed to keep an eye out," Fenris said.

"No, we agreed to take turns Broody," Varric answered as he stretched up in the cart. "Though the kids did say they'd help too if you wanted to rest."

"I'm not a kid. I'm eighteen," Piven called out, jumping out with a bow in hand. "Besides, Nivia was the one that said that."

"I did not," Nivia protested.

"Yes, you-"

"That's enough, you two." The voice of Marcus commanded like a general to his troops. The battlemage stepped between the two youngsters. "Why don't you go check on the Inquisition guides? Ask if they need anything."

Piven raised a finger. "But-"

A shot glare from Marcus interrupted the young Dalish. He and Nivia slightly shirked, exchanging a glance before walking their separate ways. Grumbles could be heard beneath their breaths as they left.

Marcus sighed. "Those two need to get along," he said, shaking his head.

"It'll take a while the way you're handling it, Hotshot," Varric said, hopping down with Bianca shouldered.

"It sounds like you have a suggestion in mind?" Marcus asked. "I hope it's not having to do with Bianca, is it?"

"You sound just like Broody," Varric chuckled, waving his hand to clarify. "I mean, you need to talk with them. Get to the real heart of the issue. But away from each other."

Marcus' eyes perked up, warily turning to Varric. "You want them in your groups for when we enter the forest," he stated, glaring down towards the dwarf.

"You want them to get along, right?" Varric asked. "They'll be more open to talking without having to worry what the other is going to say. And without worrying that you'll take one of their sides."

"And you won't just agree with them so they'll feel better?"

"Well, Hawke might," Varric shrugged. "But you can be certain I'll get one of them to open up. Merrill can do the same too."

Marcus glared in response, his arms crossed. He took a moment to glance to where Piven and Nivia had left before closing his eyes to introspect. Finally, he let out a large sigh and scratched his head.

"Do what you have to do."

At the edge of the forest, a stir formed in Hawke's stomach. A sharp pain exuded out his back, his arms, and legs numbing as he winced in pain. Then it disappeared without a trace in his body as if it were never there.

His eyes scanned around, checking his body when a touch pressed against his back.

"Garret, are you- Woah!"

Merrill exclaimed with a jump as Hawke quickly veered away with a spin. His hands rested over his daggers, ready to fight.

"Garret?" Merrill questioned.

Hawke blinked a few times and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Merrill," he said, quick to brush it off. "I felt something sharp in my stomach when I approached the forest."

"Where?" Merrill asked. She approached with blinding speed, even in her walk. "Are you still in pain?"

"I'm fine, Merrill," Hawke replied, lowering her hands down. "It only came for a second. See."

Hawke stepped forward into the forest, around a tree and back. "It was probably something with that Dragonblood potion I drank," he said as he looked at his hand. "Maybe I shouldn't just drink any potion?"

Merrill scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You think?" she questioned as she traced over his palm. "Well, it doesn't seem like anything is wrong. There are no marks or anything I can see. Warn me next time it happens."

"I doubt I'll need to," Hawke replied, looking past her towards the others, "considering the company we've brought."

"They'll be too focused on themselves," Merrill commented. "The forest still has them spooked. I keep telling them there's nothing to worry but I might have made it worse."

"Well, you don't exactly have a good track record too…"

It took a moment for Hawke to realize what he was saying as Merrill's eyes turned to a glaring death. Were they not together, he was certain she'd kill then and there with blood magic.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Hawke waved off to correct. "It's not fair of me to criticize you about that. I know the Eluvian meant a lot to you."

"Then don't talk about it," Merrill replied, releasing Hawke and storming off with her lividness concealed back towards the group.

Hawke paused a bit in his step as he reached out to her. He hesitated to speak more, worrying if speaking more would make it worse. So he relented and sighed in defeat. He would speak with her later and next time much more tactfully.

For now, Hawke would have to command the expedition. The group of mercenaries and Inquisition agents that accompanied his party had finally gathered their belongings. All were chatting, cleaning up their weapons, or staring in awe at the forest. Awaiting for the next step.

"Looks like everyone's all set, right?" Hawke asked, raising his voice to the center of attention. "If so then I'd like to get started. This expedition is of vital importance for the Inquisition so it's important we all learn our parts."

From his pockets, Hawke unraveled a parchment and held for all to see. "This is the man we're after, Magister Vel Malchus," he said. "A rogue magister that is in possession of a dangerous artifact. The Inquisition has charged us with retrieving it from his hands. And thanks to some Tevinter allies, we have permission to 'apprehend' Magister Vel."

"Just say kill," Fenris said as he approached. "There's no need to dance around it."

"No dancing Fenris this time but all the same, we've got to tip-toe around this," Hawke replied. "Now I usually joke around but I'm serious about this. We have to capture Vel, alive."

"I thought you said you were being serious?" Fenris questioned. The warrior elf crossed his arms as he stepped in front of Hawke, face to face. "You know we can't take the magister alive."

"Not with that attitude, we won't," Hawke replied with a smirk. "There are things he might know that might be of vital importance. Locations of slavers, his network, artifacts he might have stashed."

"And how do you expect us to do that?" Fenris asked.

"Well, if you didn't interrupt me," Hawke said as he directed Fenris back to the group, "then you'd know. Anyways, to find Vel within this forest, we'll need to split up into three groups."

A hand from an Inquisition agent raised. "Why?" she asked.

"Good question," Hawke pointed. "Marcus if you would please."

"Thanks, Hawke," Marcus said, waving off a salute before turning to the group. "It has to do with the forest itself. You can't sense it but the Veil is weak within the forest. Apparently, much more so than usual. Having three mages all close together, powerful ones, I might add will attract quite a few demons."

"And we can't afford to alert Vel to our presence and allow him to escape," Hawke added. "That's why we'll be splitting up into three groups, each with one with their own mage."

"It'll be enough that we'll hardly attract any demons so long as we stay hidden while getting to Vel," Marcus finished.

"Wouldn't it be easier to send scouts instead of groups?" one of the agents asked.

"Which is why we're discussing this," Hawke said as he pointed to three men. "We'll have our scouts here search for Vel's hideout. Each of them will take three separate paths to which our groups will take. If all goes to plan, then we'll converge on his hideout and take him by surprise."

Hawke stepped down from the rock he stood on, approaching further to the group. He waved over for Varric to come with a box and pulled out a magenta stone.

"These are sending stones. They'll allow us to send messages between the groups," Hawke explained as he tossed one to Marcus. "I expect our mages know how to use them?"

Marcus nodded. "Speak the name of the user that holds them and they'll send the message to that person. Simple enough though you don't have to be a mage to use these."

"I'm surprised a Circle mage knows about such a thing," Merrill said as she picked up a stone.

"Well, I've been around enough places to know," Marcus waved off. "Interesting places you have to hide in when you're on the run from Templars."

"Too bad we won't be able to talk about it on the expedition," Merrill said.

"Can we get a move on already," Fenris interceded. "We shouldn't waste any more time."

"Fenris is right," Hawke said. "Now then, let's all talk about the groups we'll be in."

After arriving at Arlathan, Piven couldn't get any more excited. He had a chance to explore remnants of the greatest city built by his people. A jewel upon jewel as he heard, to tragically befall at the hands of parasitic monstrosities. Magisters.

And now another was here, performing Creators know what experiments for whatever twisted magic he had. No doubt experimenting on slaves. It enraged Piven so, all he could do was a growl and ball his fists with rage.

"Are you okay?"

Piven didn't notice the question until he felt a touch to his shoulder shake him from his anger. It was the other Dalish, Merrill, who looked with concern on him.

"Huh… what?" Piven asked.

"You seem to be a bit out of it," Merrill said. "Is it the Veil that's affecting you or something else perhaps?"

"No, no, I'm fine," Piven stammered out, waving off. "It just… angers me that we're working with magisters just to get rid of another magister. And in all of Thedas… here of all places."

"Are you done ranting, kid or you going to get a move on?" Fenris asked as he passed by.

"I'm just saying…"

Piven raised his voice to the warrior elf, who immediately veered around with a glare. So menacing and dreadful it was that it silenced Piven then and there. It made his own rage seem pitiful compared to his.

"Nevermind," Piven sighed as he crept back to Merrill's side. "What's with that guy?" he whispered to her.

"Don't mind Fenris," Merrill whispered. "He's in just as a bad mood as you."

"He was a slave, wasn't he?"

"Most of his life. Now he spends most of it freeing any slaves and killing their masters and slavers."

"Then why is he here helping magisters instead of freeing more slaves in Tevinter?"

Merrill gave a weak smile, looking to Fenris as he walked ahead with the mercenaries. "Hawke," she simply replied, without looking to Piven.

"Ah... him," Piven mused.

He noticed how the others had spoken fondly of that shem. Piven could perhaps see why. He exuded an air of friendliness and charm, much more presentable than even Marcus. And the way he spoke clearly with confidence and direction only impressed Piven even more.

"Are you in a… relationship with him?" Piven asked in the best words he could think of.

"Why do you ask?" Merrill questioned.

"Well… I just don't see how a shem could be in a relationship with one of our people. Much less of one of the clans," Piven said.

Merrill let out a small chuckle, raising a brow from Piven as he looked up to her face. "You remind me of someone from my old clan," she said, hanging her head a bit low.

"Oh, I'm sorry… are they…?"

"It's fine, really," Merrill replied back. "It was a long time ago and I've made peace with it."

A quick sigh pushed out from her as she continued along with the group. They had begun to enter what seemed to be the ruins proper of the forest. Pieces of old elven walls and broken statutes stuck out from the trees, whose appearance had become less numerous.

"Though part of me wishes he was still around," Merrill continued. She skipped over several rocks, still looking ahead to Fenris. "He was always so angry about everything. It clouded his judgment so much that it killed him."

"What was he angry about?"

"A lot of things but mostly humans. He and his friend Tamron liked to find things, thinking they'd help our clan. Weapons but they usually settled on anything they thought might be important."

She paused suddenly in her steps. Piven nearly bumped into her and nearly fell down as he grabbed a rail. He slowly lifted himself up as his eyes laid in awe of his surroundings.

A huge complex of ruined arches that carried water towards tall towers of elven design built into large hills. Below was a large gorge, dotting with even more of the same ruins. A small creek ran through the cracks of a broken road that still retained its marble color.

"Amazing," was all Piven could mutter out.

"It is," Merrill commented. "I wish you could see this Mahariel."

Piven was too engrossed in his sights to ask Merrill who she spoke of. Then he felt a force pull him out of nowhere until he turned to see Fenris yanking him to the ground.

"Hey-"

"Don't say anymore if you want to get caught."

Piven could barely utter a word out as he was then quickly dragged away. He attempted to struggle loose when a hand from Merrill rested on his shoulder. Her smile reassured him as she too knelt down near a wall along with the other mercenaries.

"What was that for?" Piven whispered as loud as he could, swatting off Fenris.

Fenris replied with a cock of his head, raising a brow from Piven. Fenris rolled his eyes as he crouched down and beckoned for him to follow.

Piven hesitated but a motion from Merrill urged him to follow. Through a large tree that was hollowed out, he crept into a bush with Fenris. The warrior opened a small hole from the bush leaves and it dawned on Piven the reason for the sudden silence.

A whole cadre of mercenaries had infested the remains of a fortress further ahead. He recognized the armor they wore. Exactly the same as the ones Oppius employed.

"So is this Vel's base?" Piven asked in a whisper to Fenris.

"It is," Fenris nodded. "Which means Merrill wasn't paying attention."

"Why is that?" Piven asked.

Fenris merely grumbled in response as he continued to observe the Tevinter mercenaries. Piven wasn't so naive to know he wasn't wanted and thus crawled back to the group. Many were content resting beneath the ruined wall to rest while the others kept a watchful eye out. Merrill was busy speaking into the stone, to which he decided to approach.

"Um, are we in the right place?" Piven asked.

Merrill nodded. "We are but we're a bit ahead of the others. We just have to wait for them."

Piven hummed as he skidded down against one of the ruined walls. Waiting was not something he liked to do, especially as the days went by. But if that's what he had to do, then he'd do it. Yet it frustrated him so, having to wait so long just to find things for his clan.

Have patience, child

Piven's eyes shot up. It felt as though they would pop out. He swerved his head left and right, looking for the voice. But his group were all doing their own thing, paying him no mind.

Do not be alarmed, young Piven. It is only I, Dirthamen.

"D-"

It would be best if you don't utter a word lest your group find you insane. Speak through your mind, my child.

Piven pursed his lips together, taking a moment to observe his group. They hadn't noticed him speak so he took that moment to close his eyes and concentrate.

Like this? Piven thought.

Perfect, my child. You speak to us just like your great ancestors.

That is great praise from you, Dirthamen. You honor me.

And even greater honor will be bestowed upon you once you have revived my brethren and I. Unfortunately, for that to happen, there must be sacrifices that must be made.

Sacrifices!? Piven exclaimed in thought. What sacrifices?

Do not be alarmed, my child. Dirthamen replied. It is nothing harmful, I promise. To you at least. I speak to you now to warn you, the plan set in place by the shem named Hawke will fail.

Do you mean they'll get killed by Vel and his men?

I cannot say without risking such an event from passing. But know that the failure of the plan is required for you to succeed.

Piven, confused, raised a brow. Succeed?

Yes, that is why whatever happens, you must not panic and allow yourself to be captured.

Captured! But-

The Creators shall protect you, Piven. We shall prevent any harm from befalling you. Trust us.

I do trust you, Dirthamen. Yet I don't see how getting captured will help our people.

That we can speak of later. For now, wait with your group and follow the Dalish girl's lead. We will speak again soon.

Wait, I still have more questions?

Silence bequeathed Piven's mind. Nothing spoke back to him but the wringing sound of nature. Once again, he was left with more questions than answers.

He perked up to see Fenris slowly walking back to the group in a crouch and coughing to get the others' attention.

"The scouts' reports aren't as accurate as they say," Fenris said. "But we should be able to handle them as you long as you provide me with long-range support."

"It'll be an hour at most until the other groups arrive," Merrill added.

"Then prepare," Fenris said as if he were a general. "Everyone needs to be at their best when the assault begins."

Piven couldn't help but shiver as Fenris glared at him as the warrior finished speaking. It was a short glance but it had put Piven off for some reason. Thoughts began to fill his mind. Did Fenris know something about him? His secret from the Creators?

No, if he did, then he would have told the others. From his conversation with Merrill, he could surmise the warrior was quite blunt and honest. So what then or was he just being too paranoid?

As Piven watched Fenris rest against a tree stump, he made sure to keep one eye open as he rested.

"So, how close are we, Pixie?"

...

"Pixie?"

Nivia and her group had been quiet the entire time, sneaking as best they could through the forest, and now Varric felt the time for nicknames.

"Well, yeah, you know. You're sweet, have a lot of magic, and short," Varric replied.

"Says the dwarf," Nivia said.

"Point taken," Varric shrugged. "You know, I haven't had this much trouble finding a nickname before. It always comes so naturally and yet I just can't find the right words for some reason."

"Maybe another time," Nivia replied back, scoffing as she looked back at her sending stone. "Marcus, have you arrived at the meeting point?"

Words from Marcus etched out into the stone. Not yet, the message said. Just how large was this forest, she thought? An hour must have already passed to her mind. Surely her old master's hideout wasn't that far?

"Still not there yet?" Varric asked.

Nivia turned to Varric walking by her side, his grizzle beard pronouncing a frown. "No," she said, shaking her head, "but Merril's group has gotten there early so we should probably pick up the pace."

Varric scoffed. "You would think Inquisition scouts would know better," he said.

"Truthfully, I prefer we take our time," Nivia said, slowing her walk. "That way we can prepare for… our fight against… Vel."

"Still unsure about this?" Varric asked.

Nivia stopped in place, her heels dug in place into the soft earthy forest floor. Her palms began to coat in sweat and she tightly gripped her elven stone. A tiny gulp bulged in her throat and she resumed back to following the mercenaries.

"I'm sure."

"Nivia, I can tell when people are lying," Varric declared as he ran up beside. "It's okay to feel the way you are but holding it in isn't doing anyone favors. Especially for yourself."

He doesn't know what he's talking about, Nivia thought to herself as she focused walking ahead. Just ignore him.

But her ears could only betray Nivia to Varric's words. "Look, this might not be the best time to talk about your feelings but something is clearly bothering you. You don't have to be afraid-"

"I'm not afraid!" Nivia said.

Her voice exploded with the force of a wind that she felt expelled from her entire body. It pushed Varric back away from her to the ground. The sound of cracking wood lured her around to see the other mercenaries on the ground as fissures appeared below them.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

Nivia's voice was drowned out by the whirring sound of portals. Out from the ground, several shades and rages demons emerged with their demonic roars. Still fazed by her power, the mercenaries were helpless as they were overwhelmed by the demons. Their screams bellowed out into the forest.

Petrification overtook Nivia. This ordeal was her fault, her own doing. They were dying and surely their screams alerted Vel's forces. Again she failed.

"Get down!" Varric yelled.

Nivia was pummeled to the ground as Varric grabbed her by the hand. Crossbow bolts shot out in rapid succession from Bianca, piercing multiple shades.

"Come on!" Varric said, leading Nivia away deeper into the forest.

The two jumped and ducked branches and rocks, all while the horde of demons gave chase. Nivia's heart raced in agony as a terror demon descended from above. Its gaping mouth was then filled with knives. Then a bolt lodged in, exploding its head in a fiery explosion.

Varric once again grabbed her by the hand. "In here," he said.

He let go and pointed to a large rock structure. Nivia followed behind, her heart raced to the sound of the demons as they closed in. Underneath the structure led to a cave. Without hesitation, Varric crawled down and called for Nivia. She complied, wanting nothing more than to hide.

Dirt and pebbles dug under her clothes as she pressed low to the ground. As quiet as she could be, her mouth shut tight and her eyes looked up to the entrance. The shrieking wail of the demons cried at the entrance. Each second passed as it became louder and louder and Nivia could only breathe faster and faster.

A tight grip then held her palm dearly. Nearly she screamed when another covered her mouth. She looked to Varric, his eyes pleading with her to be silent. To stay calm.

Nivia tensed, holding in her breath through her nose. She willed her body to stay as rigid as possible, to allow no sound to escape. Her hand planted into the ground as slowly as she could, closing her eyes to what seemed inevitable. She waited, her mind prepared for the darkness. Then she waited more and more and still, there was nothing. Did she die already?

"I think they're gone," the voice of Varric said. "Hey, you can get up."

With a push, Nivia was no longer in darkness but back in sight of Varric. His dirt covered face smiled at her as if trying to reassure. But all Nivia could do was look back towards the cave entrance. The demons, she could hear them no more but it wasn't relief she felt. It was agony and despair as she began to cry. Tears flowed down her face like a flood and her cheeks flushed with heat.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Varric asked.

A crackle escaped from Nivia, breathing sporadically as she tried to speak but the despair was too much. Her body just wanted to cry and her mind began to desire that as well. As she did, a pat rested on her head, gently caressing it. She looked to Varric once again, nodding to her in support.

Waves of fire exploding above the trees in bursts. They echoed out of the forest as all sorts of creatures bolted en masse from the fires. The cause? A wielder of powerful magic, Marcus Ebiri, twirled his staff before letting loose another stream of fire.

"Any idea?" Marcus asked.

With a gesture, the battlemage's palm directed to the Champion of Kirkwall. The Champion's dagger basked in flames as they descended and cleaved through several shades. But with his back turned, a terror demon leaped from behind and swung its claws. Yet it clashed against a magical barrier, blunting the demon back in dumbfoundedness.

"If I had to guess," Hawke said as he twirled and sliced the demon in half, "Nivia or Merrill attracted them. And no offense, Marcus but…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Marcus replied as he planted his staff into a rage demon and froze its entire body. "But Varric was supposed to help her talk through things, not get her into another tantrum."

"Hey, Varric does his own thing. Don't blame me," Hawke answered back.

The Champion spoke as another terror demon gave chase. Hawke proceeded to run up a tree and flipped down with daggers out into its head. Its wailing moans screeched into his ears before he ended it a swift kick.

Marcus enveloped his fist in flames and smashed the frozen rage demon to pieces. "I'm not," he grunted. "I'm just frustrated with how this has turned out."

"I am too," Hawke said as he jumped down. "But talking about it won't change anything. At least… that's what Broody would say. I think."

With a flick of his wrist, Hawke launched a knife towards Marcus. It brushed past him, unfazed as the tearing of flesh sundered behind Marcus.

"You know, I'm starting to doubt your reputation as the funny one," Marcus said, nonchalantly swinging his staff back and destroying the torn shade. "Especially if you're copying Varric now."

"If I was copying Varric, I'd be complaining how everything is going to shit," Hawke said, crinkling his nose. "Speaking of…"

The two turned and observed over the carnage they had created. Black sludge of demonic essence coated the entire elven ruins they fought in. Its marble sheet of broken roads covered with it and the blood of the mercenaries. A couple of heads and limbs strewn across and others missing perhaps into the dirt.

"Even though we were surprised, they still shouldn't have died so quickly," Hawke said. The Champion went to work, dragging their bodies away while whirling his head away. "Or have been so scared. How are the agents holding up?"

Marcus walked behind one of the broken towers and approached a ring of fire burning. Several of the black sludges laid around the circle to which, with a snap of his fingers, dissipated to reveal several Inquisition agents huddled together.

"Are you all alright?" Marcus asked. "Fully healed?"

"We are thanks to you Marcus," one of the agents said as the others eagerly nodded. "Those healing potions of yours really helped us."

"Too bad the same couldn't be said for the others," Marcus said. "We need to move out, quickly. The demons' presence will have alerted Vel's forces and no doubt attacked the other groups."

"Plan B then?" another of the agents asked.

Marcus nodded as he pulled the agent up. "Yes, and we have no time to waste. Let's go."

Marcus, Hawke, and the agents broke pace further into the forest, leaving the tending of the mercenaries to another time. As the scouts had told, their path to Vel's hideout was the longest and the riskiest. For unlike the more open path as before, ahead was a narrow walkway with trees extending around like a stone arch.

"Keep quiet now," Hawke whispered to the group as they jogged. "If we have to face Vel's men here we won't be able to fight as effectively without burning everything around us."

Around a winding loop, they were met with what they predicted. The end of the arched path laid ahead, the sunlight of dusk shining through and blocked by many men. Heavily armored in Tevene plate from their swordsmen, halberdiers, and even a few archers and mages.

Without hesitation, they readied themselves. Marcus shielded the group with magic and physical resistance. Hawke the same with his daggers as the rest readied with bows and spears.

The mercenaries however made no move against them. They stood in the still place, crossing their arms and making no motion to fight.

"They're not attacking," Hawke said.

"I can see that," Marcus replied, readying a stance. "Let's keep it that way."

Marcus's hands clasped together, sparks sprayed out. He slowly pulled them apart and a sphere of flames appeared between. The further apart from his hands, the larger the sphere became. A fireball wide as his chest flared with his magic.

His arms then burst forth, slinging the inferno forward like a blazing arrow. Its destructive potential made clear to all yet the Tevinter mercenaries stood unchanged. Before Hawke or Marcus could think as to why, the fireball exploded mere inches from the mercenaries. The force was enough to burn and wither out some of the tree arches. Yet as the smoke of the fireball swept away, the two were in shock as the mercenaries stood unharmed.

"How-" Marcus questioned before a loud overtly the top clap ceased his words.

The Tevinter mercenaries parted ways at the entrance for two men. Mages in gilded Tevinter robes with armor on the chest. The first was a dark-skinned young man with black hair but the second was one Marcus recognized from before. A man with a wily mustache like Dorian's with a full beard, completely white as the same color streaked over his kempt hair. Magister Vel himself, who was clapping in a vexing manner.

"My, my, look who has dropped by," Vel said. "I didn't expect you to find me so quickly yet I am impressed nonetheless. And I see you're in the company of such a legendary hero and organization. I underestimated you."

Marcus grimaced at the statement, shaking his head as he approached several steps. "I don't need your snide remarks, Vel. Just the artifact you took from Solas. Now surrender or else."

Once again, Marcus and the Inquisition forces readied themselves as the battlemage spun out his staff.

Vel merely laughed as he held his arms behind. "You don't scare me, much less threaten me. If you hadn't noticed, that last attack of yours didn't quite turn out as you would have expected. Did you not wonder why?" he asked.

"Mind getting to the point already?" Hawke asked.

Vel huffed and sneered. "I forgot how rude you southerners are. One of the few things I can't stand," he replied, rolling his eyes before turning them to a glare. "Your spell failed because of the defenses that were put in place by the very forest itself. Ancient elven defenses, to which I now have control over."

"Yet the fact that you're speaking with us implies you don't have total control," Hawke surmised, lowering his daggers. "Otherwise you would have killed us already."

"As if he could," Marcus muttered.

"I'm assuming then you want to make a deal then?" Hawke asked the magister. "Or is it one of those evil mastermind tirades about how you've already won and we have no chance of winning? Because if it is, then I suppose I should counter with truth, justice, and the Ferelden way."

Vel continued to glare as he slowly pulled his arms ahead before snapping his fingers. One of the mercenaries rapidly stepped forth, holding a blackened container. The same one from the ruins of Solas.

"Truthfully, it is neither of those options which I'm sure must disappoint your simple minds," Vel said, grabbing the box in his hands. "No, instead what I need is your assistance."

Marcus and Hawke rocked their heads back at Vel's words. They turned to exchange a glance of dumbfoundedness, tilting their heads.

"Do you really think we're that stupid?" Marcus asked as an aura of fire ignited around him.

"I think you would prefer living than fighting me," Vel answered. "As I recall, there is an Empire out there that is slowly conquering Thedas. And my countrymen waster in pointless schemes while the Qunari descend like a plague. Your assistance would alleviate both problems."

"You're a magister!" Marcus yelled. "You enslave people, murder, abuse, and destroy. Not to mention using King Maric in whatever twisted experiments you had for blood magic and trying to enslave everyone."

"To lead Thedas into a better future," Vel shot back.

"No, only for yourself," Marcus said. "We're done talking."

"You can't-"

"You haven't seen my full power," Marcus replied.

Flames inflamed over Marcus into an inferno. It cycled up through the top of the tree arch, burning a hole. His staff extended forward as the inferno washed from his body to the tip of the staff.

The burning maelstrom burned bright in everyone's faces, Vel and Hawke's group looking away from its light. Hawke was in awe of Marcus, dropping his guard while Vel stood tall and defiant.

"A poor choice... Imperial."

Within a second, the flames of Marcus' staff evaporated. His skin flushed pale and his mouth opened agape. Yet words did not come out from the battlemage. Instead, it was two spears exiting forth from each side of his chest. Blood choked and sludged from his mouth.

It was a quick attack surprising even Hawke as the Champion found himself in a similar predicament with his legs. Blood splattered from his shins and he fell to a knee in agony.

Neither Hawke nor Marcus could react as they both turned to their attackers. Their own agents of the Inquisition, who continued to skewer into them and draw even more blood.

"How rude of me," Vel called, laughing in a hearty storm. "Did I forget to mention I had agents of my own in the Inquisition? It's quite an interesting tale."

The two warriors gritted and cursed at their predicament. The weapons in them then tore out from their flesh, shredding skin and muscle. Marcus collapsed on his hands and knees, too injured to use magic.

But Hawke resisted and ruptured out with rage, knocking the agents back. Smoke fumed from his body as his skin seared with smoke and began to heal rapidly. Without a moment to spare, Hawke sprung forth to his attackers.

"Get them!" Vel commanded.

His right-hand mage tapped their staff to the ground and Vel's mercenaries charged forth. Meanwhile, the battle raged in a massacre of the agents. Hawke fought with no weapons, his kicks and punches pummeling and beating down the agents. An archer could barely react in time as Hawke broke his arm. The archer screamed out in pain before his own arrow was stabbed through his jugular and screamed out a fountain of blood.

Marcus soon regained himself, slapping his chest for a glowing yellow light to cover his wounds. Vel's mercenaries interrupted the battlemage, rushing with arrows and striking down with swords and polearms. Marcus narrowly rolled away. He slammed the ground, setting it and the halberdiers in flames. Room to heal further as the battlemage rolled up, staff in hand.

"Magister Vel!"

Someone, agent or mercenary, yelled the name yet in the confusion of battle, could not be determined. A blood-soaked spear launched overhead to land in Vel's hands.

"At last!" Vel exclaimed.

As Marcus and Hawke continued to battle against Vel's men, the magister held the tip of the spear and cut the edge of his thumb.

"Great Dragon blood," Vel said with a silvery tone. "Such a rare commodity and exactly what I need."

The veins on Vel's arms engorged in a bulged red. It spread beneath his skin, burrowing towards his thumb cut. He roared in both pain and pleasure as the cut widened out. A pudgy red slime exploded and coated his hand. He moved to place it over the box for the red slime to move to its new host. It molded and shifted over the box before taking the shape of a dragon's head. A bright red glow radiated out with spectral tendrils of blood vessels embracing Vel.

"Yes… yes!" he exclaimed.

Hawke spun with a kick, caving in the bloody teeth of an agent through their jaws. The red light shined a shadow to his feet and he swerved towards Marcus.

"Marcus!" Hawke called, rushing down a mercenary with a spear. "Get Vel. I'll deal with them."

As quickly as he came, Hawke barreled back towards the fight. Slamming into a mercenary, he used him as a shield and closed in one the remaining archers.

A clear path was presented to Marcus to the magister. Though still injured, the battlemage still sprinted enough for his robe to rise behind. A lone mercenary that stood in his way was cast aside with his staff. Their life force was drained, reinvigorating Marcus. But the Imperial suddenly slammed into an invisible wall, knocking to the ground.

The right-hand mage stood before Marcus with his staff planted in the ground. "You will not get to Magister Vel," he declared. "This barrier is of ancient elvhen design. You can never break through."

Marcus glared in response, gruffing a guttural huff as he slowly rose up. The right-hand mage was adamant in his defense, coyly grinning. Marcus carefully approached the barrier and sized up to the mage. He closed his eyes, inhaling a deep breath.

The red glow from Vel ever shined bright, filling the arch in a red hue that overpowered the light of the sun. In a second, the light cascaded over them all combatants and blinded them briefly. At that moment, Marcus exploded in a brilliant flame. His heels dug deep and he launched forward, shattering the barrier into nothingness. The strength of his flames destroyed the very arches themselves, burning the entire path to reveal tall brilliant trees.

Marcus landed behind the right-hand mage. His flaming aura died down as he merely glanced at the mage. He stood in the same place, his entire left torso destroyed as his insides burned. His ribs smoldered in ash as his heart dropped down and hung, still beating.

"Should have moved," Marcus muttered to the mage before carrying on from their collapsing corpse.

The spectral veins surrounding Vel had now fully encased over his body. The box he held violently shook as its red dragon mark seeped all over. Marcus jumped forth, swiping his hand and launching a fireball straight forth.

It collided against Vel and a blinding explosion rocked the entire path. The entire area of trees and people crashed to the ground in an instant. Save for Marcus and Hawke, all were knocked unconscious or barely awake.

The heroes shook their heads, still in a daze as they carried themselves up. They looked at each other with pained looks, confused to all hell until they turned to where the explosion happened.

Smoke filled around akin to a bubble with dark grey clouds that concealed even a shadow. Marcus and Hawke stood at the ready, waiting for the smoke to reveal what they assumed to be an injured Vel.

A huge beam blasted out from the smoke. Marcus reacted and deployed a magical ward. The beam collided and overwhelmed the battlemage, bypassing his ward as if it were nothing. Rife with agony, he screamed in pain as blue energy flowed from him back into the beam.

"Marcus!" Hawke yelled, breaking fast.

More beams shot out from the cloud but Hawke nimbly dodged. Several more shot out in rapid succession yet missed their target to no avail. But despite his speed and tenacity, Hawke focused too narrowly. A beam struck the Champion, exiting forth from Marcus.

The two warriors could only yell, collapsing to their knees. The colors of their skin turned pale, wrinkling away. Then it stopped and their bodies fell to the ground completely. They could barely lift their heads as the grey smoke dissipated with a gust of wind.

There was Vel standing tall. His armor had turned to black, pieces of his robes tattered and charred but his skin was pristine and it's prime. Blue sparks flowed out from his eyes, crackling from the streaks of blue energy flowing from his body. All of it coming from one source, an elvhen sphere held in his palm.

"Ah, so what the woman said was true," Vel spoke, carrying forth the orb, "another foci. Like the one Corypheus possessed."

The magister glanced towards the corpse of his right hand. The orb in hand glowed in blue energy as blood veins extended out from his free hand. They pierced the corpse and proceeded to drain all the blood until it withered to bones. The tendrils flew from his fingers, stabbing into Vel's unconscious men and reinvigorating them with life.

The orb suddenly sparked in his palm and the magister gritted his teeth, cursing. His arm sporadically shook before he could hold it in place. "It takes quite a toll, it seems," he muttered to himself as he huffed.

The remaining mercenaries and agents walked back to Vel, surrounding Hawke and Marcus as the two still laid, unable to move in their wrinkled forms. Their wrinkled hands clawed into the dirt as they tried to lift themselves up, only to drop in an instant.

"V- vel...," Hawke slithered, reaching out to the magister as he fell unconscious.

As Marcus watched, his head turned down to his side. With great effort, his hand reached down into his pouch and pulled out his sending stone. He dredged his arm up, dragging against the dirt. With a loud grunt, Marcus raised the stone to his mouth and spoke.

"Every- everyone… hide," he said, collapsing to the same fate as Hawke.

Everyone hide. The message appeared before the sending stone possessed by Merrill. Yet the Dalish blood mage could not read it as she currently lied over the ground. The stone lied beside her unconscious form, surrounded by scores of dead mercenaries and Inquisition agents.

"What do we have here?"

The question penned from a shadow looming over Merrill as a hand reached down to pick the stone. It carried up past the figure of a woman, clad in leather armor, before reaching the face of a pale Nord woman.

"Grandmaster," a voice called to the woman, "what is it?"

The woman, turning with her bunned blonde hair, faced towards her companions. A dark-skinned Imperial dressed in chainmail and an Altmer dressed in simple robes. Both approached the Grandmaster, stepping tepidly over the corpses.

"It seems Magister Vel has done his part," Nilssa said. "Now we must fulfill our side of the bargain."

"I still don't believe it wise to work with this man, Grandmaster," the Imperial responded, crossing his arms.

"We're not working 'with' him, Adamas," Nilssa replied. "He is merely a useful tool. A tool that will be disposed of once our objective is complete."

The stone in Nilssa's hand dropped unceremoniously to the ground as she finished. With a stomp, she crushed it beneath her boot and turned to her Altmer companion.

"Karhtus," she asked, "how much longer will your Charm work on him?"

"For a week, Grandmaster," Karhtus nodded. "It should be enough time for us to retrieve the Fea Opus."

"Then let us make haste to Vel's laboratory," Nilssa said.

"What about him?" Adamas asked, cocking his head.

In the direction Adamas pointed, all attention was upon two figures. The warrior Fenris bloodied and beaten, struggling to move from this position he was in. A chokehold held him firmly in place by an enormous orange striped fur arm. It too was slightly bloody like his yet its wielder had no trouble moving about.

"Ah, yes, the elf warrior," Nilssa said, striding over. "Fenris, I believe that's your name, correct? A killer of Tevinter slavers, freer of slaves. It's quite poetic."

Fenris bared out his teeth, blood between the cracks, and filling a missing tooth. He merely grinned and quickly spit on Nilssa's face. Immediately, his captor pummeled Fenris face first into the dirt, splattering it in blood.

"Do not spit in the Grandmaster's face or this one will tear your flesh with teeth," Fenris' captor said.

Nilssa waved her hand off. "At ease, Do'jhan," she told him as she wicked the spit from her cheek. "It's only natural for someone like him to act in such a manner."

The Khajiit growled, his tiger-like face snarling at Fenris. Calmly, he then nodded and he picked Fenris up, holding the elf by his skull with a single hand. With his towering figure, Fenris hung several inches above the ground, beaten as he grabbed onto Do'jhan's arm.

"Though to be frank, I'm still quite disappointed by you," Nilssa said to Fenris. "I read you were a powerful warrior, especially considering the company you're in. And while it is true that a Pahmar-raht cannot be easily defeated, I expected more from someone of your talent."

"To be fair, Grandmaster," Adamas chimed in, "Do'jhan wouldn't have been able to defeat Fenris were it not for Karhtus' spells."

"Are you being humble now, Adamas?" Karhtus questioned with a glare.

"It's simply the truth," Adamas shrugged.

Do'jhan scoffed in response, baring his sharp teeth. "At least he was a challenge to Do'jhan," he said, pointing with his free hand. "Those two barely put up a fight."

The two people Do'jhan pointed to were Piven and Merrill, both laid unconscious by each other's side and their respective weapons shattered to pieces. Nilssa observed them for a moment, crouching down to inspect closer.

"Still alive," Nilssa mused. "Perhaps there's more to these Thedosians than meets the eyes."

"What should we do about those two, Grandmaster?" Karhtus asked.

Nilssa hummed, scratching her chin. "We shall take them to Vel so as to not arouse any suspicion," she said as she stood up. "And as for Fenris…"

Do'jhan pulled Fenris pack into a hold. His claw grabbed the top of his head, forcing the elf to face Nilssa as she approached.

"Fenris, you are a great warrior and a savior of slaves," Nilssa said. "But you waste your efforts and have barely saved enough lives. I would like to offer you a chance, a chance to not only fulfill your mission but to ensure peace for Thedas. Join us and the Empire will help you in your endeavor."

Fenris looked to Nilssa, his bloodshot eyes widened. His nose breathed heavily, straining to even exhale. His gaze shifted between Nilssa and her agents. With a long blink, he focused back on Nilssa and gulped to speak.

"Fuck off," he said, seething rage between his teeth. "I'm not going to work for an Empire that allows blood magic and mages to do whatever they want. Tevinter is evil, that much I know. But freeing every mage will enslave everyone. It doesn't matter how pretty you make it sound."

"Sticking to your beliefs," Nilssa replied, "I can respect that. Such a pity that it is the wrong one but nonetheless, worthy of respect."

Her gaze turned up to Do'jhan, her face was unmoved as she nodded. Do'jhan growled from his throat. His claws emerged, clamping onto Fenris as the warrior struggled in his grip. In a single effortless motion, the Pahmar-raht jerked Fenris' head and a sickening crack emerged.