Chapter Six: I Was a Fool to Have Doubted You

It was still early morning by the time I got to Corporal Vale, who, blessedly, didn't look too put out that I'd headed back to the camp instead of helping the refugees. He informed me that Varric had done a great job of picking off some rams that afternoon, and that the three of them had left about an hour earlier, headed about a day's journey to the south to hunt down some cold weather supplies. I thanked him, and set out in that general direction, hoping they'd stayed along the main path.

About ten kilometers into my journey I began to see piles of freshly dispatched bandits. As corpses of Templars and mages began to show up along with the bandits, I knew I'd be catching up with my erstwhile traveling companions shortly, so I began to listen for sounds of fighting. Hearing Cassandra's clarion "Maker take you!" ring out through the hills, I took off at a dead sprint towards the action. Things seemed to be going well, so I looked to see how I could help. Solas was throwing up a barrier on Cassandra when he was flanked by a rogue coming out of the shadows. I rushed in as quickly as I could, both knives bared, took a leap at the man, and wound up face down in the dirt. Cassandra had literally pulled the bandit away from Solas with a chain and was relieving him of his head. Varric, who was surprisingly adept at using his crossbow in tight quarters, dispatched with his immediate opponent, and the skirmish was over. Cassandra spared half a glance in my direction before setting back off along the path with a huff.

"Changed your mind, kid?" Varric asked, helping me to my feet.

"Yeah, kinda," I answered, and began to strip the bandits for supplies.

"Glad to hear it. The Seeker might have a few things to say about it, but for what it's worth, I'm glad you're with us."

"Thanks, Varric," I replied, smiling to myself as I tossed a nicely-weighted coin purse into the air. Cassandra turned around at the sound, walked over to me, and slapped the purse out of my hand.

"That is not yours," she said, brooking no argument on the subject. I offered one anyway.

"It's not like she has any use for it! How am I supposed to survive without any coin?"

"Perhaps you should have considered that before you went back to camp in a snit. This woman was not your kill, and those are not your coins. Leave them."

"But shouldn't we take them back to Haven? I'm sure the –"

"Leave. Them."

I sighed, rolled my eyes, and followed her along the path.

Our assignment was fairly straightforward. We were to hunt down caches left behind by Mages hiding in the caves and forest, mark the location of those caches on a map, and hand that map to some kid named Whittle, who apparently used to nick blankets off of clotheslines in Gwaren. Whittle would then take a crew of refugees out with him and collect those caches, ostensibly staving off the cold weather for a bit. He had a vague idea where we could find them, and off we went. The first few were easy to find, barely hidden behind a hill or under a tree. One was in a cave, surrounded by red lyrium, which Varric was very grateful to have Cassandra smash into bits. Another was in a cave that was still in use. The owner of that cache didn't appreciate our putting it on the map, but we managed to convince him it was necessary. That last crossbow bolt in his eye seemed to seal the deal. The final cache was very well hidden, or at least it seemed that way, as by that point we had wandered all over Thedas, beat back no fewer than eighteen bandits, four Templars, and five Mages, and the sun was perilously close to the horizon. Solas put a light glow on his staff that allowed us to mark the location on the map. As late as it was, setting up anything like a camp was out of the question, so we simply looked for a place to wait out the night before heading back to the Crossroads.

Trudging along, Solas spotted torchlight, and at that point, we'd have fought even more bandits just to take their campsite, given the opportunity. As we got closer to the source of the light, it became evident that the torch was attached to the entryway of a small keep, and the thought of spending the night indoors quickened our pace. As we reached the gate, a guard greeted us, and asked us to wait to speak with the leader of the group that had holed up in there.

"My name is Speaker Anais," the leader said when she arrived. "And you are the Herald of Andraste? Is it true, then? The Maker has not told me."

"I don't know who told you wha – Ow!" Cassandra positively scowled at me after kicking my shin with her steel greaves.

"Oh, the Herald of Andraste? Yes. Yes, I am absolutely the Herald of Our Lady Herself," I answered, saving myself further injury.

"So, the rifts, then. They bend to your will?" Anais asked, as oblivious to what had gone on between Cassandra and me as only a cultist can be.

"Bend 'em, break 'em, seal 'em. I can do all that."

"We shall see, then," she replied. "There is a rift in a cave at the rear of this keep. Let us see, Herald, exactly how Our Lady has graced you."

"After we close it, would you mind if we stayed here tonight? We've been travelling all day, and –"

"If you are able to close it, you will have done us a great kindness. You would certainly be our guest."

I turned around to see if my companions were up to the task. They looked eager to get on with things, so I nodded to Anais, and she showed us where they kept their fade rift.

All in all, it was a fairly ordinary rift. The first wave had two Terror demons, and Cassandra and I had figured out their weaknesses four rifts ago. The second had another Terror demon, two wispy things, and the nasty flying thing that shot ice at us. Cassandra did her trick with the chain and dispatched the ice thing first. Solas and Varric handled the wisps, and I kept the Terror demon at bay until Cassandra had a chance to get a nice clean blow to its midsection. Once that was done, the mark took care of the rift itself, while Solas picked up whatever weird bits of demon he'd been collecting along the way.

A fairly ordinary rift… except for the applause we received once it had closed. Or, at least, I had received. Whatever. Regardless, Anais came to meet us as we walked out of the cave and into the keep itself.

"Makers tears," she said. "I was a fool to have doubted you."

"We can discuss that tomorrow. For now, we need a bath and a bed."

The following morning at breakfast, Cassandra jumped up from the table rather suddenly, grabbing an Elven mage by his shoulder and speaking with him in severe tones. I started to fidget in my seat, hoping I wouldn't have to witness some kind of Chantry/mage/elf/whatever incident, until Varric put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"It's alright, kid," he said. "The Seeker volunteered to find him, because he makes a potion that can help his mother's cough."

"Right. Of course," I stammered, feeling a little embarrassed for jumping to conclusions like that.

"You're really going to need to let that thing you have against humans go, you know. It's not going to help –"

"What is it with dwarves telling me what I should think about shems?" I said, raising my voice a little. "First Harding, and now you. You've never lived in an alienage, okay? You don't know what humans are capable of. They don't go into Kirkwall and pick a few dwarven women to rape or carry off into slavery, do they? They don't round you up and make you live in a slum. They don't call you, I don't know, braid-beard or something. You've never had a human check his pockets just because you passed next to him on the street."

"Hey, I didn't –"

"No, I don't suppose you did," I interrupted. By this time, I'd gathered a bit of an audience, so I cooled it a little.

"How about you not tell me how to feel, and I'll stop lecturing you on the subject. Deal?"

"Okay kid," Varric said. "I'll leave it alone."

"And that's another thing: stop calling me 'Kid.' I'm the fucking Herald of Andraste."

"She is correct, Varric," Cassandra said, having just sat back down at the table. "Her Worship should be addressed with the respect owed to one of her station."

"Yeah," Varric replied, nearly as annoyed as he was chastened. "I guess she should be."

After Varric grumbled his begrudging assent, we finished our breakfast in peace before making our goodbyes. I asked Speaker Anais to use her flock to spread word of the Inquisition, and bring more Fereldens to our cause, which actually got a smile out of Cassandra.

The trek back north to the Crossroads was quiet and business like. We had to deliver the map back to Whittle and pick up Mother Giselle at Harding's forward camp before heading back to Haven.

"Your Worship," Cassandra said, just as we were leaving an Inquisition way station to replenish some supplies. "You seem more comfortable today with your title. If this is the case, I am certainly happy for it."

"Yeah, I don't know," I replied. "It's just, you know, if that's the only way I'm going to get any respect, I figure I should play that card every once in a while."

"I understand completely," Cassandra replied.

"How could you possibly –"

"If I may, Herald," Cassandra interrupted. "I was in a similar situation myself once upon a time. As a young Seeker – as a young woman Seeker – the respect I received from my fellows was begrudging at best, and most often nonexistent. And being called to Her Holiness's Right Hand made me no older, and no less a woman in the eyes of the other Seekers. It would fall on me, more often than not, I'm afraid, to remind others that I, like everyone else in this world, deserve respect. Sad as it is, often the only way I was able to get this through was to pull rank."

"Yeah, but I never asked for this," I protested. "I don't want to be thought of as this holy person. I've seen holy people my whole life in Denerim, and that's not who I am."

"Do you honestly believe I asked to be the Right Hand of the Divine?"

"No, but when it was offered, you accepted that position."

"And this morning, Your Worship," Cassandra said, holding my wrist and facing me, "so did you."

"Yeah, but I –" I stammered. Cassandra merely cocked an eyebrow at me, waiting for her message to sink in.

"I don't even know what a Herald is," I said, finally. "It's not like they had those in the Chantry."

"Then it is up to you to make the position your own, as you see fit. And you have an entire village full of people who would trip over each other to help you do that."

"Okay, I get it," I huffed. "We should move out, anyway. I'd like to drop this off and get back to Harding as soon as possible."

"Very well, your worship."

We made much better time on the way back, not having to stop to kill as many bandits or parties of skirmishing mages and templars along our path. There were still two and a half hours of sunlight left by the time we reached Recruit Whittle and Corporal Vale, which would have given us just enough time to get to the forward camp before nightfall, except that there were twenty or so shems lined up in front of him, waiting to "join the Inquisition," whatever that meant. After a few of them began to display their 'martial prowess' for my approval, I pulled Vale aside.

"They're serious about this?" I asked him.

"They absolutely are," he replied. "I'm not sure how many of them know which end of the sword to hold, but they're all very serious about doing their part to close the breach. Of course, your coming through with the first meat many of them have seen in three weeks may have had something to do with it. As did taking time out of your journey to find Hyndel and send him back with his mother's tonic."

"Hyndel?" I asked. "You mean the –"

"The bright young man who was so handy with the potions before he got mixed up in that cult? That's him."

"Well, if these people want to help, we can always use them," I said. "Find a dozen or so that do know how to handle themselves in a fight and get them to keep the peace. I'll talk to the folks back at Haven about getting you an official Inquisition charter. Gear's a little scarce, but I'll see what I can do about that, too."

I wasn't sure if Vale was about to burst into tears or song, but he looked absolutely overcome when I offered this to him.

"Your Worship," he said, getting down on one knee and saluting me across his chest. "My sword will ever be in your service, and in the service of Our Blessed Lady."

I returned his salute and offered my hand to help him up, trying to look suitably reverent the whole time. I caught Cassandra's eye, and she was smirking and nodding in that infuriating manner I was growing accustomed to.

It had been dark for nearly two hours by the time we got to the forward camp, and I was grateful for the rest, having walked nearly 50 kilometers since morning. Vale had been good enough to send a crow ahead of us, so there were tents already stood up by the time we got there. Scout Harding made sure we got enough water so our muscle cramps wouldn't be as bad the next morning. Of course, she made extra-sure that the Herald got her share and then some, which became a problem about three hours before sunrise. Coming back out of the woods, I saw Harding on watch by the fire.

"Do you take all the overnight watches, Scout Harding?" I asked, taking a seat next to her.

"Do you always have trouble sleeping outdoors, Your Worship?" she retorted.

"You looked like you needed company," I replied. We sat in silence for a bit while she poked at the fire with a stick. I was about to get up when she put a hand on my arm to stop me.

"Vale mentioned in his note what you did down there, with the people who want to fight, I mean. He was over the moon about it. Normally his messages are three or four words long, but this time he almost didn't get it all on one page. You did something really great down there, Herald. You gave those people a purpose."

"I didn't do anything, really," I said. "Cassandra could just as easily have recruited Vale and his people."

"And I'm sure Vale would've been proud to help if she had," Harding replied. "But she didn't. You did. Listen to what he wrote: 'The Herald of Andraste asked me specifically to lead a group of fighters to keep the peace.' That's all you, Your Worship."

"I just – I mean, I…"

"I believe the words you're looking for are 'I'm glad I could help, and it's nice to see the refugees' spirits lifted," Harding said, with a smile so bright we barely needed the fire. I just stared at her face for a moment, barely registering that she'd finished talking.

"I'm not sure if it's my place to say this," she continued, "but I'm really proud of you. You could have easily walked right back to Haven yesterday, but you didn't. And instead, this happened."

I looked sheepishly at the ground, and then let go a huge yawn, which Harding giggled at, gently.

"This would've been much easier on horseback," I said, starting to make my way back towards my tent."

"Oh!" she said, probably a little loudly for that hour of the morning. "I know just the place for that!"