We spent the next couple of weeks in the Hinterlands, mostly reconnoitering for future needs. The battles between the Mages and Templars weren't ending any time soon, so it was going to be imperative to cut both groups at the knees. We thought collecting the horses from Master Dennet was going to be straightforward enough, but it took two days to get there, dodging (and not dodging) mage/Templar skirmishes, wolves, bandits, fade rifts, and, oh yes, bears. Plus, when we got there, we were told we had to fix every. damned. problem in that farming village before Dennet would even think about this "Halla Rider" (Seriously. He seriously called me that.) getting his horses. So that wasn't going to happen for a while, at least not until construction crews were finished building lookout towers. And while we were digging around all of that, we found evidence of some sort of illicit mining operation while clearing out a band of mercenaries holed up in an ancient fortress.
All that aside, Solas found a decent staff, and I must have scrounged up 50 gold just walking around. That area of Ferelden is also very rich in iron and drakestone, which, along with nugskin and ram leather was going to go a long way towards outfitting the now three dozen recruits that Corporal Vale was sending our way. Plus, the personal tension that had built up after my departure and sudden return dissipated.
"Did I do the right thing?" Cassandra asked me early one morning while Solas and Varric were still sleeping.
"What do you mean?"
"Declaring the Inquisition, breaking ties with the Chantry… it all seems a little sudden."
Cassandra looked genuinely vulnerable, sitting by the fire, so I scooted a little closer to her and tried to be of some comfort.
"Well, the mages and Templars were already tearing up Thedas, and then most of the Chantry leadership died and demons started falling from the sky. I'd say if there were any time for a big move, that was it."
"I suppose you're right," she replied. "In any case, there is no turning around now. And, if nothing else, I believe we are doing some good in this corner of Ferelden."
"The humans here seem genuinely grateful for our presence, so that's something."
Cassandra sighed at that, opened her mouth as if to say something in response, but looked away instead. Solas came by the fire, sat down, and sighed even more dramatically than Cassandra had.
"Surely by now we can make our way to Val Royeaux as the Chantry mother has suggested," he huffed, as if it weren't the 43rd time he'd made that suggestion in the past three days.
"Maker's balls, Solas, if I hear you so much as think that question one more time…" I replied, getting up to pack away my things.
Walking back up the Frostbacks into Haven, my steps were lighter. I was honestly glad to get back "home," as we'd been calling it. I was anxious to see how Mum was getting along, how the other elves were faring without The Herald around, what Maryden was wearing… In fact, I was so looking forward to telling Commander Cullen about the recruits he could expect in the following weeks that I went to look for him straightaway after dropping off three bushels of elfroot and spindleweed at Adan's cabin. I didn't expect to be greeted by a near riot in front of the Chantry doors, however.
Mages and Templars were moving quickly from yelling in each other's faces to sword hilts being displayed prominently and sparks being brandished on fingertips. Accusations were being tossed around about the death of the Divine, and resentments built up over centuries were quickly boiling over. I had just walked toward the Chantry to see what all the commotion was about, when Cullen came out to quiet things down. The Templars snapped to attention at once, while the mages started to mutter amongst themselves before retreating to the corners.
Meanwhile, Chancellor Roderick came out of nowhere and starts cracking wise to Cullen, hoping to undermine his position and sow dissent among the rank-and-file. Cullen, being brand-fucking-new at this whole commanding thing – Oh, wait. That's right; he's not. So, rather than taking the Chancellor's bait, Cullen simply rolled his eyes and told everyone to get back to work in a distinctly commanding manner, leaving the Chancellor plenty of time to think of his next come-back.
Mum was adjusting nicely. Cloth was hard to come by at first, but she was also handy with leatherwork, so he could lend a hand in Harritt's shop, filling orders for the more flexible armor, like mine. As a bonus, Mum was able to add some embroidery, both functional, such as rank designation, and decorative, which did more for morale than I would have thought. She also took special requests for a bit of coin, and that had started to add up by the time we got back.
"Honestly," Mum said, after I pressed her for the dozenth time, "the Humans have been nothing but gracious. I'm paid a fair wage, they genuinely appreciate the job I'm doing, and I've got a bit of standing thanks to my divinely-touched daughter, you know. Things haven't looked this good for us since we had the shop in the Market, lethallan."
"Exactly," I replied. "And how long did that last? It looks like I'm going to be gone a lot doing Herald stuff, and I just don't want to come back to find –"
"To find what, dear? Harritt is right next door, both Leliana and Josephine have told me to let them know if I need anything often enough that I'm actually starting to believe it, and I'm also losing just enough coin at the weekly games of Wicked Grace to stay on the soldiers' good side."
"Mum!"
"I'm kidding about that last bit. But, please, you have a very important job now, sweetheart. You need to focus on that, and everything will take care of itself. Do you know how they were talking about you while you were in the Hinterlands? They really believe you're Her herald. That's a lot of responsibility. Plus, all the fighting you get up to. Oh, yes, I've heard some stories about you getting mixed up with the Templars and the mages."
"So, you're not worried about me out there anymore?" I asked
"Not terribly, no. I'm also not entirely sure I want to know how you got that good at killing people. Just make sure you come back to us, all right? Meanwhile, Josephine, Threnn and I have put together a list of material we'd like you to pick up while you're in Val Royeaux. How exciting! You're going to Orlais!"
I remember the first time I left Denerim. I had just signed on with Gorim's team, and he had a little loyalty test for newcomers. I was sent in as "muscle," told that my partner wasn't going to be carrying any weapons for – reasons, I guess. So, I was escorting him and nearly 5000 sovereigns to Old Tegrin in the Hinterlands, where we would be picking up six kilos of processed lyrium, which had a street value of about twice that. Either the gold or the lyrium could have set me up for life, if I'd've just offed my partner, stolen the goods, and hightailed it out to the Anderfels or something. But I didn't do that, because I'm not that kind of person. I needed the job, and my parents would have been shit out of luck without me, and, really, murder just isn't my thing. Turns out that Gorim and Tegrin had some friends watching us the whole way, and I wouldn't have made it half a mile before being reduced to blood and guts that needed to be washed off some Fine Dwarven Crafts. But, all in all, that turned out pretty well. We did run into some bandits, and I was able to make them go away without too much violence, so Gorim's friends put in a good word for me, and I was given a nice bonus on top of what I was supposed to be paid for that job.
The trip to Val Royeaux was my first ever venture outside of Ferelden, and a hell of a lot more exciting than that trip to see Old Tegrin. It about a week and a half, all told. We trudged through the mountains down to Lake Calenhad, went north from there up to the Imperial Highway, over the border into Orlais, took the ferry at Lydes over the Shining Sea, and right into the self-styled Capital of the World. The fade rifts kept pretty much to themselves, but with the small retinue we'd brought along (two dozen soldiers; mostly Corporal Vale's recruits in shiny armor, mixed in with a few others who knew how to block with a shield), the three we ran into weren't much trouble. Primarily we camped, but an inn at Halamshiral and another one right outside of Val Royeaux helped keep us fresh for what I was certain wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation.
"We're going to need a plan for this, Cassandra," I said. It was long past midnight, and we were a 45-minute walk outside the Val Royeaux gates. Cassandra, of course, was asleep in the room she and I were sharing. Solas and Varric were in another, and the soldiers were camping in a nearby field, which I could see from our window.
Well, she had been asleep.
"Go to sleep, Herald. We'll make our plans in the morning."
"I'm serious, Cassandra. Look at them. Some of the boys in that group don't even shave yet. They have no idea what we're walking into here. It's great that we brought them along for show and all, but they need to scatter once shit gets real."
"We're here to talk. Nothing more."
"Well, we are, but the Chantry's not just going to let us walk up to the Grand Cathedral and say 'Hey, guys. How's it going?' There are still some Templars who have remained loyal and they're all right here in Val Royeaux. Real soldiers, not some kids in shiny suits."
Cassandra pushed the covers off her with a grunt, slid into some boots and a cloak, and walked downstairs, coming back with a bottle of well-aged Antivan port and two small glasses. She poured a healthy draught and slid it my way.
"Drink," she said, and I did. Then she refilled mine and poured another for herself.
"Your Worship, it is kind that you worry about those under your command. Please believe me when I tell you that it will all work out. You have fought Templars before and won, with inferior blades and no training. You are formidable on the field of battle, and your survival sense is peerless. Former Knight-Captain Rylen was in charge of training recruits in Starkhaven and knows what his soldiers can and cannot do. If events do not unfold peacefully, they will push, but he will not let his men be slaughtered. Varric's smart mouth and capable crossbow somehow kept him alive in Kirkwall through both the Qunari attack and the Mage rebellion, so I imagine we'll have the pleasure of his company back in Haven once this is over. And Solas seems to be a man who knows what he's doing. And if you're worried about me, well, don't be. If the Maker could see me through the attack on Divine Beatrix, I imagine he can guide my sword-arm through whatever the remaining Templars could throw at us."
"You're right, Cassandra," I allowed. "I'm just new at all of this, and –"
"And we all have to start somewhere. Remember, 'not alone do we stand on the field of battle.'"
I snickered. "Apotheosis? Laying it on a bit thick, aren't we? I'm not Andraste, and this isn't Tevinter."
"That verse isn't just about actual battle. Andraste tells me that the Maker will stand with me on any field of battle, whether that battle is against men in the Dales of Orlais or against myself in my own soul.
"Besides, she lost her battle, but has become more glorious as the Bride of the Maker than she could have imagined the night before her Maferath's treachery. Go to sleep, Herald. You'll need your wits about you in the morning."
The next morning, we rose an hour or so after the sun, ate with the soldiers, and made our way into Val Royeaux, straight through the city gates, like any other visiting delegation. We had an appointment to speak at the Grand Cathedral, in front of as many clergywomen and local nobility as could (or would deign to) attend. We were to outline our plans for closing the breach and finding those responsible, answer questions about our claims to divine directive (Josephine told me to be honest, and for the life of me I couldn't figure out what that meant), and generally put minds at ease that we were a force for good, rather than for further chaos. Following this, Cassandra and I were to make a show of paying respects to the monument dedicated to Divine Justinia in the Sunburst Throne room, and then we would retire to the inn we had set up for the following weeks while we gathered supplies.
Things didn't quite work out that way.
Our route to the Grand Cathedral led us right through the Market Square, and as if it were orchestrated that way (it was orchestrated that way), a podium was erected just a hundred meters from the gallows, where there were two nooses hanging – one for an elf, and one for a human. The crowd in the market surrounded us, and Cassandra and I were separated from our compatriots – Varric and Solas included – and brought onto the podium for questioning. They didn't want to talk, but they also didn't want a battle in the streets. They wanted our necks.
Words were tossed around. Cassandra and I tried to stay to our script, but the de facto Grand Cleric would cut us off, play to the crowd, make racist comments about my heritage, and question Cassandra's sanity, using her fallacious arguments to 'prove' our guilt in the death of the Divine.
"All we want is to close the breach!" I would say.
"Does not your Andruil call you home through it?" they would mock. "Or does she even listen to you anymore, Herald of Andraste?"
"We were directed by Justinia before the Conclave even began," Cassandra would explain.
"You got a taste of power with Beatrix, and now you want to run everything!" they would deflect.
The crowd was getting more and more restless and bored. They were here for an execution, not a kangaroo court. Finally, the sounds of steel boots marching in time grew closer and closer. The de facto Grand Cleric got a sly smile on her face as she looked at me, then stepped to the front of the podium and addressed the crowd.
"Dear people of Val Royeaux, hear me! You have seen these pretenders for what they are – savage heretics and opportunistic usurpers. Today, the Chantry reclaims what was so violently ripped from us. Today, we avenge our sweet Justinia's death with the blood of the monsters responsible. Today, we restore order to Thedas, peace to –"
I winced as I saw a steel greave make contact with the cleric's face. She slumped to the deck, and an older man in armor stepped to the front of the podium to announce that the remaining Templars would no longer act under the authority of the Chantry, nor would they act as protectors of Val Royeaux. Then, just as suddenly as they came in, they marched off, Cassandra hot on their heels.
"Lord Seeker Lucius! Lord Seeker Lucius!" she yelled, but got nothing. He and his men continued to march until they were long out of sight, with Cassandra left behind, staring. The mob that had been calling for our execution just minutes earlier was dispersing, disheartened by the Templars' actions. Rylen positioned his men around the market, in case some decided to take matters into their own hands. I stepped over the cleric on the podium and found Varric and Solas. Cassandra joined us a few minutes later, obviously distressed.
"Did you know that man?" I asked. "That Lucius fellow?"
"I did," Cassandra replied. "At least I thought I did. But I don't understand anything of what I just saw. Lucius is a reasonable man. He was elected Lord Seeker specifically because he'd never do anything like – like that. This is very troubling. We should inform Leliana – perhaps her scouts have seen something."
"Meanwhile," I said, "It doesn't look like the Chantry is going to be very much use to anyone for the time being, let alone us. Let's just get some of those supplies we need – ask Rylen to send some of his friendlier recruits around to the shops. My mum will have my head if I don't come back with at least six bolts of this Ring Velvet."
