Chapter Five: Crossroads

"What do you mean 'there's been a delay'?" I screamed. "Don't we have people for this sort of thing? You have scouts! Did you send your scouts?"

"Of course we sent our scouts," Leliana replied, more than a bit exasperated at my outburst. "I said 'delayed,' not 'in danger.' The Inquisition isn't exactly welcome in Denerim at the moment, thanks to Chancellor Roderick, so I've called in a couple of favors, and the King's personal guard will be escorting your mother to Haven. They left five days ago, so they should only be another day or two. The original plan was to have her here yesterday."

"Oh. Well, I…"

"I'll take that as an apology, then?"

I chuckled at myself, and then looked back at her. "Yes, I suppose it is. Thank you for calling in that favor, Leliana."

"Yes, well, that's quite alright. The King will see that it was worth it when the breach is sealed, no? Meanwhile, Josephine has secured space for them and a shop next to Harritt's forge."

"Thank you," I said again. "I thought she'd have to live in my cabin, and I only asked you to have someone escort them up here for her safety, but this? She will be so happy."

"You have already put your life on the line for this cause, Your Worship," Josephine replied. "And I am afraid you will most likely be required to do so again, if our scouts' reports of the situation in the Hinterlands are correct. Any small gesture such as this pales in comparison, I assure you."

I'm not sure if my mouth was actually open at that point, or if it just felt that way, but Josephine was kind enough to give me a way out of that conversation.

"Would you care to see your mother's accommodations, Mistress Ghilani?"

I nodded, and Josephine accompanied through the Chantry. We had just about made it out the door when we were stopped by a comical figure in a yellow and brown leather coat and matching… mask? Josephine gave me the most polite elbow to the ribs I'd ever received when she saw my reaction to his appearance. Had I caused an international incident by falling over myself laughing, however, it would have been the fake mustache on the bottom of the mask's fault, and no one would have blamed me for laughing at that, anyway.

"Marquis du Rellion, you honor us with your presence," Josephine began. The Marquis wasn't having any of her pleasantries, however.

"Lady Montilyet. We must speak about the Inquisition's continued use of Haven as its base of operation."

"Of course, Your Grace," Josephine answered. "The Herald and I were just about to take a walk through the village. Perhaps you would care to join us?"

"I should think not," the Marquis protested. "It is bad enough that you continue to remain on my lands. But that these lands should be used to house this upstart order, led by an elf, is something that simply cannot stand."

I wanted to say something – I really did. But there was really nothing to say at that moment. I knew the Chantry's rationale for launching the Exalted March on the Dales. And I knew that regardless of how much time had passed since then, fervent Andrastrians still somehow considered elves to be tainted with a connection to "heathenry." But this was so much easier to face as some old woman's chambermaid, instead of as the spiritual figurehead of, yes, an upstart religious order. Bouncing back and forth between "hey knife-ear" and "Your Worship" was exhausting.

Feeling myself far out of the notice of either the Marquis or the Ambassador, and not really up for any greetings or salutes or "Your Worships," I began to make my way through the shadows down to my original destination. The cabin itself looked nice from the outside, if a bit smaller than mine. Next to the cabin were two human laborers putting finishing touches on a market stand where Mum could sell her wares, once she had some to sell. I peeked inside the cabin, and two elven servants were putting a broom to the stone floor and cleaning out the hearth and the ironwork. I stopped in there and sat on the bed; immediately the girl sweeping the floor dropped her broom, and I think she stood at attention.

"Your Worship," she stammered. I shot her a withering look in response.

"I am nobody's worship, and especially not yours." I snarled, and then felt kind of bad when the poor girl looked as if she was going to burst into tears. The woman working on the hearth stopped what she was doing and walked over to the younger servant, putting a comforting arm around her.

"It's alright," she said. "Nessa over there doesn't want any of us elves making a fuss over her, because we're all supposed to be the same."

"We are the same," I replied, standing. "I'm just a Chantry maid from Denerim with a thing on my hand, for fuck's sake."

"Right," the older servant mocked. "A Chantry maid from Denerim. Who has her own cabin, with walls. Who gets meals served to her at the tavern, and has the tavern keeper falling over herself to make sure everything's just so. Who sits in on the big meetings; the ones with the shems that try to forget we exist. Just another Chantry maid."

"I didn't ask for this," I shouted, holding up my hand. "I just – I don't know – it just happened, alright?"

"Yes, it did happen. And I don't know if it was Andraste marking you or Fen'Harel having a go at us all, but there it is. And whether you like it or not, Nessa, you are special. You want to help your people, do something good? Use that. Make it worth something. And for pity's sake, don't go pretending that you're still one of us. You're not, and you never will be again, and you can thank the Maker for that every night you've gone to bed not having had to take orders from any shemlen."

Chastened, I grumbled, and sat back down on the bed. Then I noticed the table in the corner hadn't yet been polished, so I picked up some wax and a rag and got to work.

"It's my mum's house," I said, trying to stave off any grief I'd get for deigning to do some manual labor.

"It certainly is," the older servant replied. "And that's why we had to draw lots to see who got to clean it. Because you're special to us, too, Your Worship, whether or not you think so."

Mum showed up nearly exactly when Leliana said she would, accompanied by a rather resentful Royal Guard. Josephine greeted them personally, while two other shems followed behind the four of us, guiding the cart with her belongings to her new home. She was barely able to mumble a greeting from the shock of it all, which was probably exacerbated by the shiny new iron and leather armor Harritt had just finished the day before. After Josephine had left with a very sincere "if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask," we closed the door behind us, and the questions began. I told her as much as I remembered from the Conclave, about the breach, and how we got there, and gave her a quick rundown on my position in the Inquisition, and what the Inquisition expected of them.

"My daughter, the demon-slayer," Mum teased. "But I don't care if Andraste Herself commands it, I will not be calling you 'Your Worship,' is that clear, young lady?"

"Yes, mum," I said, feigning remorse.

"That's some fine armor. I suppose they're paying you better than the Chantry, then?"

"We haven't discussed payment, actually," I replied. "The smith made this for me, free of charge. He just asked that I scout around for some materials – some iron ore and a dozen nug skins. I'd scavenged a couple of sovereigns' worth of coins from the trip through the mines, and I've been eating on that. But I imagine more will come my way when we head out into the field tomorrow."

"You're going into the field? Tomorrow? But it's madness out there, with the mages and the Templars!" Mum said. "It's not safe! What are they thinking, sending an untrained girl out into a situation like that? Do you even know how to handle a blade?"

I couldn't help chuckling. "One of these days, Mum, I'll explain how the two of us were able to survive so long on a chambermaid's wages. For now, just know that I can more than take care of myself out there. Besides, this will give you a chance to get acclimated and get your shop set up. You'll be working with Threnn, the quartermaster, to get supplies. Harritt next door will introduce you. He's the smith I was talking about. And if any shem even looks at you twice, you let me know when I get back. Seriously."

Mum shook her head and they each took their turns giving me a tight squeeze before I left them for the evening. But before I got to the door, she asked the question I'd been dreading all day.

"I don't want to seem ungrateful or anything, but why didn't you ask before you dragged me out of Denerim?"

I sighed and walked back towards them, sitting on the bed.

"First of all, because you're too proud to ask me to help you get out of that sh – er, that hell hole. Secondly, and more importantly, because it wouldn't be safe to leave you alone. Some shem would still think I killed the Divine, or hear a knife-ear is the Herald of Andraste or something, and decide to hurt her by hurting her mother. I couldn't have that. I wouldn't be able to save this Maker-forsaken world if I didn't know you were safe. So, I'm sorry, but I kind of had to."

"Of course, sweetheart," she replied, even though her face clearly said otherwise. "It's cold down here, but it is a lot nicer than the Alienage."

As planned, Cassandra, Varric, Solas, and I left the following morning to find Mother Giselle. The trip to the rendezvous point with the forward scouts in the Hinterlands took just three days by foot, even with Varric's dwarven legs holding us back a little. Unlike when we ran from the Forward Camp to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, we were in better shape for any trouble we might get into, be it from demons or skirmishing humans, having taken time to properly arm ourselves for such eventualities. And, with the immediate danger of a rapidly expanding breach behind us, we could take time to scout ahead for trouble, rather than simply run headlong into it. That became my job, and all four of us were perfectly happy with that arrangement. Not only was my ability to hide in plain sight useful, but I really wasn't terribly good company. Solas wasn't at all pleased that I didn't feel like having any elfy bonding moments, and I was still a bit too put out from my run-in with Josephine and the Marquis to spend any time talking to any shems, let alone nobles like Cassandra. Varric seemed to understand all this, and he stayed out of my way. When we camped in the evenings, I maintained an air of cool professionality, but I also made it perfectly clear that we were going to find where this priest was, get whatever information we could out of her, and head back to Haven.

I was a few hundred meters ahead of the others when I heard the fighting at the rendezvous point. I scouted a bit further ahead, off the path, scaled a tree, and saw three or four different mage/Templar skirmishes happening around the campsite, and what I could only guess were Inquisition scouts taking down belligerents on both sides to keep the camp safe. I ran back to let Cassandra know what was going on, and we double-timed it to lend a hand. But by the time we got there, things were very much under control. The lead scout, a young dwarven woman named Harding, was an ace sharpshooter with a bow, and was singlehandedly taking down the last four fighters as we arrived, each with well-placed arrows to the throat.

"Hell of a shot," I mumbled, mostly to myself, as she was putting her bow and quiver away.

"Thanks, Your Worship," she replied, and I looked up to see the single most disarming smile in recorded history. Everything else about her – from her furrowed brow, to her tailored armor, to the way her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, was business-like, almost severe. But when she wasn't slaughtering mages and Templars from a distance, her eyes twinkled, her smile beamed and her freckles danced. I found myself counting those freckles before Cassandra rather pointedly cleared her throat, and we got to business.

"Mother Giselle is in an area known as the Crossroads, about 10 kilometers northwest of here. There's been heavy fighting all around us, as you've seen, so please, be careful. The refugees are in pretty rough shape, as the war seems to follow them wherever they go. Corporal Vale is leading Inquisition efforts to protect and care for them."

We nodded and were just about to get back underway when she held my arm to stop me.

"Herald, I – er, we – wanted to say how proud we are to be doing this – working for the Inquisition, I mean. It's an honor, Your Worship."

"Um, thanks. We should get –"

"It's going to be dark by the time you get there," Harding insisted. "Maybe you should stay here for the night, get some food, and head out fresh in the morning."

"That is a good idea, Scout Harding," Cassandra said, dropping her pack in front of an open tent. "And if the fighting comes close to the camp again, you will have help holding it back."

And as the four of us were fast asleep twenty minutes after finishing our mutton stew, I'm glad there was no fighting to help with.

We headed out shortly after breakfast, filling up on healing draughts and field rations before we left. It was mid-morning by the time we got to the Crossroads, and the scene was chaotic. Small groups of mages and Templars were skirmishing all over the area, and nearly as many refugees were in the line of fire as combatants. My initial thought was to send the rest of the party back to the camp, sneak around the fighting as much as possible, find Mother Gisele, and get back to Haven. But then I looked up to see Inquisition soldiers thick in the fighting, and it was time to go to work. We moved in a tight formation, going from skirmish to skirmish, putting down mage and Templar alike, as they were both aiming for us. It was an efficient setup; Solas was keeping us safe with magical buffers, Varric was providing aerial cover, Cassandra was going headlong into the skirmishes, banging on the heavily-armed Templars, and I was taking down squishy mages who weren't watching their flanks. We were at it for hours. Nothing I'd ever done in Denerim had prepared me for this kind of sustained fighting, and I tired quickly a few times, before either finding a second wind or being provided one by Solas. I found myself picking my points of attack more carefully and watching out for Cassandra as she got more and more tired. Templar armor, while made of sturdy plates of steel, had gaps that would open up depending on how they moved. I began to be able to anticipate these gaps and get a good poke or two in that allowed Cassandra to drop a final blow. We'd dispatched dozens of mages and Templars before they realized that they should leave the Crossroads alone and scattered to the winds. I dropped to the ground panting, sweating, and sobbing with exhaustion and relief.

"The refugees should be safe now," Cassandra said, picking me up off the ground. "We have done well here."

"How are you still standing?" I asked. "You did everything that I did, except your sword is twice as heavy as my blades, you're carrying a shield, and your armor is fully metal, not mostly leather."

Cassandra's jaw dropped open for a second as she looked at me quizzically. "You have never been in such a battle before this, then?" she asked, and I shook my head. "Perhaps I should ask you the same question. It normally takes years of training and discipline before one is able to last this long in the fight. You are truly to be commended, Herald."

A little embarrassed, I looked down at my boots. "Mostly I was trying to stay alive and keep the mages and Templars distracted so that you could keep killing them." I said, and feeling a little woozy up on my feet, I sat back down. Varric handed me a skin of cool water which at that moment was the most wonderful thing in the world. Cassandra handed me a hunk of ram jerky and a flask of some sweet yellow syrupy stuff that sprung me right back to life. We waited for a few minutes to allow me to catch my breath, and then we were off.

Mother Giselle was tending to wounded Inquisition soldiers when we found her, comforting a young man who'd taken an arrow to the shoulder. We were announced, which caused a bit of a hubbub, and then the priest came to greet us. She was an older woman, with kindly eyes, and anyone who'd reached her age without at least being elevated to "Revered Mother" was certainly a pastor by vocation, rather than ambition. Priests like this would stop by the Denerim Chantry on occasion, and they were always the kindest. I heard of one such priest who swapped places with the servant she'd been assigned, giving her the plush bed and good food.

"You are the one they are calling 'The Herald of Andraste?'"

"You have to ask them," I answered. "I can't control what people say about me."

"We do not always have that luxury, my dear girl," she replied. "Sometimes the Maker asks us to assume a higher purpose and a higher station than –"

"Well, that should be easy; there aren't too many stations lower than the Alienage, are there? Sister Nightingale said you had some names for us?"

The priest looked a bit put out by my remarks, and nearly visibly shifted gears from pastor to co-conspirator.

"Yes, I have these names for Leliana, and I will go to Haven, once we are certain that the fighting in the Crossroads has subsided. Meanwhile, I will make a suggestion: I know those that have denounced both the Inquisition, and you specifically. Some are merely trying to increase their standing in the Chantry's politics; taking advantage of the loss of so many of our senior clergy. Some are frightened. Some simply do not know what to make of all this – they want to believe that Divine Justinia still has a hand in our lives, but the idea of an Inquisition like the one so many years ago is puzzling. Go to them. Show them you are no monster, no heretic. Show them that the Inquisition can be a force for good. Show them that you can be a force for good."

"You're joking, right?" I asked. "You want me to go to Val Royeaux and convince the Chantry that the Inquisition isn't heresy. Somehow I don't think I'll get close enough for them to even hear me."

"This is because you are an elf?"

"Of course it's because I'm an elf. An elf who happens to be the perfect scapegoat for the biggest tragedy to hit the Chantry in ages, in a city whose Alienage makes Denerim's look like an Antivan resort. And I'm supposed to walk up to them and –"

"And talk. Let them see who you are."

"Sure. I'm certain I'll get a lot of talking in. Look, I'm not here to argue, I'm here to ask you to give us the names of some clerics. You're going to bring them to Haven, and I thank you for that. We'll meet there, I'm sure."

"Of course, Your Worship," she replied, and I turned around and walked away, only half hoping the rest of the party was following. I got to the point where we'd entered the Crossroads area and began to walk back toward the camp to make our preparations to return to Skyhold when Cassandra stopped me.

"Herald, aren't we going to see Corporal Vale? These people need help."

"We've cleared out the mages and Templars, what more could he want?"

"Look around you, Herald," she replied. "See what condition these people are living in."

"Hungry, cold, living in filth? Looks like home to me," I quipped. "If you want to help them, go ahead. I'm pretty sure not a one of these shems would take the time piss on me if I were on fire, so I'm going to head back to Haven, now that our assignment is done. I'll see you when you get back."

If any of them tried to convince me further to help the shems in the Crossroads, I didn't hear. Walking back, I saw some mages and Templars battling in the woods, but I managed to slip into the shadows of the forest where I wouldn't be dragged into the fighting. Travelling by myself it only took an hour and a half to get back to the camp, and I wanted nothing more at that moment than a hot meal and a place to lie down.

"Herald, you're back, safe and sound," Scout Harding said, smiling. "Are the others far behind?"

"They're still in the Crossroads," I replied. "They wanted to stay and help the shems."

Scout Harding stared at me for a few moments and simply said "Oh." Then she gathered herself together and showed me where the food was and where I should bunk for the night.

I thought I'd sleep like the dead after all the fighting I'd done the day before but sleeping outside wasn't a skill one learned on the Denerim streets, so there I was, an hour or two before dawn, wide awake. My night vision wasn't the best, but the sky was clear, and the moon was just this side of full, so I figured I could get an early start. Scout Harding was on watch, hunched over a bowl of thin gruel, and she called me over.

"Why didn't you stay with the others, Your Worship?" she asked, dispensing any pretense of small talk.

"Why should I have? That wasn't what we were sent here to do. We were sent here to talk to Mother Giselle, that's it."

"But you saw the conditions down there," Harding replied. "It's awful. You could have helped them."

"I don't owe them anything," I said, trying hard to keep my voice down so as not to wake the rest of the camp. "Do you really think any of those shems would lift a finger to help me if they saw me living in conditions like that? No, don't answer. That's not a hypothetical question for me; it's what I've seen. There are parts of the Alienage where I'm from that look just like that, and we've never even seen so much as a poor box donation. Those shems wouldn't think twice about a knife-ear like me without this green thing on my hand, so by Andraste's left tit, why should I care about them?"

"You really don't get it, do you, Your Worship?" Harding asked.

"What don't I get?"

"Any of this. What we're doing here. What I'm doing here. It's not about the humans at all. And it's certainly not about you. I mean, look. I'm Andrastrian, at least as much as any dwarf is. You won't see me in the Chantry too often, and I don't even think we have a copy of the Chant of Light at home, but I believe in the Maker, and I believe in Andraste. And when I heard about what you did at the temple, it all seemed to make sense. You may or may not believe you were sent to us, and I'm starting to think you don't. But I believe you were. And the rest of the scouts here do, too."

"You seriously believe that nonsense?" I asked.

"Yes, I do. I mean, it doesn't matter whether it's actually true or not. But you're here. And you have a job to do. And the idea that you were sent here and now is the only bit of hope this area has."

I started to walk back to my tent, but Scout Harding wasn't quite done talking yet.

"You know, I grew up in a village around here. On the surface. We had a little farm – nothing special – just enough to feed ourselves and sell a few odds and ends at the market. But we were the only dwarves in the village. And while we never had it anywhere near as bad as the elves, the humans weren't exactly warm and friendly to us, either. Some of those Fereldan boys, well, let's just say I learned to fight with weapons before most village girls ever had to. So Maker knows I'm not doing this for the humans, either. I'm doing this for the Inquisition. I'm doing this because there are demons falling out of the sky, mages and Templars are killing each other without looking to see who gets caught in the middle, the Chantry is in shambles, I just sent my parents to sodding Denerim for their own safety, and the Inquisition are the only ones who have said they're going to do anything about it, with the Divine's blessing, and with the Maker's help. And you're Andraste's herald. So, if you're not on our side, we really don't know if Andraste is on our side. And if She isn't on our side, then what are we doing here?"

"Of course I'm on our side," I protested. "I've told Leliana and Cassandra that I'd do whatever I can to help."

"Then why aren't you doing that, Your Worship? Why aren't you showing those humans down there that the Inquisition is going to set this right? Show them that Andraste is on our side, that we have the Maker's blessing. And show them that we can help. More than that, show those soldiers down there that they've done the right thing by fighting and dying for the Inquisition. They need to believe in you. I need to believe in you," she said, lightly grabbing my arm. "Show me that this is all worth it."

Maybe it was the hour of the morning, or maybe it was because she literally had moonlight dancing in her eyes as she was talking, but I couldn't say no. I couldn't say much of anything, actually. But when I put my pack and my weapons back down by my tent, she smiled at me, and I wanted to see more of that smile.

"Okay, so what now?" I asked.

"Now I send Corporal Vale a message that you are on your way, so he needs to track down Seeker Pentaghast and the others. Then you find Vale, he tells you which way to walk, and you go save the world. Simple enough?"

An honest smile appeared on my face for the first time since we left Haven.

"Then I suppose I'd best get started."