The ground was a deep, dull grey, darker than the asphalt of the rode that cut through it like a scythe. Scorched and dried despite the heavy rainfalls of the past few weeks, the earth was crackly and hard. Here and there, withered stalks of grain and grass were still lodged in the ground, dead and Blighted years ago. A full decade after the end of the Fifth Blight, the land in these parts still suffered for it. Bethany shuddered at the thought of how Lothering must look these days. They said that the Blight killed even the microbes responsible for decomposition, and that corpses could lie in the Blightlands for year without ever decaying, until wind and weather eroded them to nothing. It was a terrifying thought.

And yet, Bethany thought, rising to her feet, scarcely a dozen metres further down the road, the land was recovering. The Blight had not spread past the Redcliffe Line. Here and there, one could still see the remains of hastily-dug trenches, and spent casings lay between the sparse blades of grass. The earth here had been watered with blood, and prospered for it.

But there, in the distance, a few more kilometres down the motorway, stood Redcliffe. The city's outskirts had mostly been abandoned as people fled the chaos engulfing the lands southeast of here, but beyond the ancient moats, bastions and crenellations, the cramped town still stood as a bulwark of royal authority. At least that was the theory.

"Ma'am?" Lavellan's voice tore her from her thoughts. The younger woman looked slightly out-of-place in the neat service uniform she'd been issued with. The gold ADC braid under her left shoulder did not help matters, and had caused endless fidgeting on the drive from Haven. "I've registered us. We may enter the suburbs now."

"Thanks for handling that. Did they give you any trouble?"

The elf shrugged. "Not as much as I'm used to. There's one good thing you can say about this uniform, it makes people think twice."

They got back in the car, paperwork taken care of. Lavellan Much of Redcliffe's outskirts had been fenced off – whether to keep out refugees from the south-east or rampaging Templars or apostates, none could say. By the roads into the city, armed guards forced all comers through checkpoints, busy even now. Very soon, both sides of the road were lined with rows upon rows of large white tents, housing those refugees lucky enough to have made it to Redcliffe, and unlucky enough not to have made it any further.

"Any updates from Haven?," Bethany asked as Lavellan joined the long line of cars waiting at one of the checkpoints. "This would be a lot easier if we knew what we were getting into …"

"Sorry, ma'am, nothing yet. Before we left I heard through the grapevine that the Nightingale was trying to intensify her operations in the city, but I'm guessing that takes time."

Alright then, Bethany thought, leaning back in her seat, they were on their own. She'd met the Grand Enchanter only once before, in relation to the Kirkwall Inquiry, and had no idea how to go about this. When she had lived in Redcliffe, the administrative committee had set up shop in an annex to the old castle – Bethany didn't really see a reason for that to have changed in her absence, so that was where they'd have to go.

Somehow.

Over the past few weeks, she had repeatedly attempted to contact some of her – acquaintances living in the city, try and get some sort of grip on the situation there. All had been to no avail, and even Leliana's operations had fallen short of their usual standards by far. It seemed as though the entire city was completely cut off from the phone network, the Internet, and even shortwave radio. The few actual agents that had made it past the fence and had managed to smuggle out messages had yet to make it out of the refugee camps. It was all very mysterious.

Slowly, the queue moved forward. As they got closer to the checkpoint and the city's fortifications, Bethany noticed that a lot of cars were being turned away or redirected to the refugee camps in the suburbs. She glanced at the small plastic resident's card in her hand, which had miraculously survived her trip to the Fade. Once, she had used it to collect her food rations and use public transport; now, it would have to suffice to get her and Lavellan into the city.

"You feeling alright, ma'am?," the elf asked after a while, glancing at her from the corner of her eye. "You've been very quiet."

"It's nothing. It's just that it's a bit odd to come back here. The place seems to have changed a lot since the Conclave."

"Seems so. You said there were some people you wanted to look up, didn't you?"

Bethany gave a dry chuckle. "We have to get inside first. Let's hope the uniform will be enough."

"It does look rather official, don't they. If I punch someone, does that make it an act of war?"

That made her laugh. "Careful you don't get blood on your tie, Ellana. It's Inquisition property."

Grinning, the elf rolled her eyes. "My Keeper would love you. Checkpoint coming up, ma'am."

"Right. Let's try our best, then:" Slowly, they approached the checkpoint that had been raised at one of the bridges leading into the city. A middle-aged gentleman was seated behind the window, peering down into their car from behind low-sitting spectacles. "Good morning," Bethany said, forcing a smile on her face.

"What's with the uniform?," the man said without a reply.

"We're with the Inquisition. We need to enter the city."

"You and a thousand other dregs today. Passports?"

Bethany and Lavellan shared a glance. Somehow, she doubted the Dalish were in the habit of carrying identification issued by human governments. Her own passport, she imagined, had presumably perished at the Conclave. "We don't have any. We've these letters of passage from the Inquisition's chamberlain and the prime minister …"

"Turn left, then go straight until you get to Refugee Camp 15. Now move aside, there's a line behind you."

"What … hey, hold on a minute! My name's Hawke, I've lived here before – I was on the mage delegation to the Conclave …"

"You don't look very dead to me. Now get away before I have you removed."

Frustrated, the two women shared a look. This was going even worse than expected, if such a thing was possible. "We really need to get inside the city," Bethany told the official, trying not to sound like she was pleading. "This concerns us all. The Inquisition needs to talk to the Grand Enchanter about the Breach. You must let us through."

"Must I now? You could have a letter from Andraste yourself, the city is full. Only ones allowed to enter are residents and those with a personal invitation from a first enchanter. You don't have one, so you leave. Now."

"I don't imagine Dr de la Ferre would count?," Lavellan asked Bethany with an aside glance.

"Probably not." She showed the man her old resident's card. "Look, I used to live here, on Dromund Lane, not even three months ago. I worked as an instructor at the community school. Just call up the headmistress, Senior Enchanter Lauren Weekes …"

"Uh huh. And what exactly did you teach?"

Bethany frowned. Few non-mages had the faintest clue of how magic worked, let alone the nature of the various schools. Was this supposed to be some sort of test? "Elementary magic, mostly Primal and Creation. I was just starting some of the brighter pupils on Force Magic when I had to leave for the Conclave."

Her immediate response appeared to have startled the checkpoint official, for he bade them wait in the service lane and made a number of phone calls, which grew longer and longer. Half an hour passed. Eventually, they were called back to the checkpoint, where a resolute, if somewhat elderly lady was waiting for them. "Ms Hawke," she greeted her, "I did not expect to see you again. They said everyone we sent to the Conclave had perished."

"Most everyone, I'm afraid. I … well, I got lucky, I suppose. Thanks for driving out here, Senior Enchanter."

Weekes raised an eyebrow. "Quite. Well, it is good you returned when you did. We need every hand we can get, what with everything going on at the moment."

She blushed a little. "I'm afraid I won't be able to stay. The Inquisition has send me to try and talk to the Grand Enchanter about the Breach."

If the other woman was disappointed, she did not show it. "I understand. I was wondering – you keep interesting company these days."

Lavellan held out an unsolicited hand. "Corporal Ellana of Clan Lavellan," she introduced herself, "Charmed, I'm sure."

Having shaken the elf's tattooed hand as though it might have bitten her, Weekes immediately returned her attention to Bethany. "I have classes to get to, but I've settled matters with the gentleman. If you change your mind, you know where to find me. Good day."

Lavellan and Bethany shared a look as the headmistress walked away. "How long did you say you worked here?"

"Almost a year."

"… humans are weird."

They made their way into the city. Between the walls and Lake Calenhad, Redcliffe was full of narrow alleyways and tightly-packed with houses, many dating back to the Storm Age. Before the war, some 650,000 people had lived here and in the suburbs. Now, who could say? But never, Bethany was certain, never since the days of the ancient Imperium had there been this many mages assembled in one place, beholden only to their own consciences, with all the good and ill that brought with it. Their presence was plain for all to see. Here, a woman holding an enchanter's staff in one hand and a plastic grocery bag in the other, hurrying along in the shadow of the buildings. There, a large stack of the seminal Principles of Thaumaturgy in a book shop's window. And there, the venerable Chantry of St. Cathaire, its gates wide open and guarded not by Templars, but mages in ceremonial robes.

She wondered if Anders would have been proud, or if he'd have despaired at the misery he had wrought.

"It's so calm," Bethany commented as they passed the chantry. "Not what I expected. The way Josephine described it in her briefing, it sounded as if order had all but broken down. Now it seems as if the Grand Enchanter is simply not answering our messages."

"We still need to find some way to talk to her," Lavellan pointed out. "Then we'll see if she's got some sort of explanation for ignoring us."

"Right. Let's go to my school. In my experience, there's no better place to pick up gossip than a teachers' lounge."

Redcliffe Comprehensive was located in a large, grey stone building just past the chantry. Vines covered its northern façade. To one side of the courtyard, the burnt-out ruins of a bike shed gave testimony to its students' success. Lavellan chuckled at the sight. "The First of my clan used to do that when he was first coming into his powers," she said. "We lost three aravels that year."

"It happens. We don't normally teach our youngest apprentices primal magic, but it's hard to keep them from flinging fire around anyway. Every now and then, a shed catches fire. Cost of doing business, I suppose."

The corridors of the school were deserted, as classes were still ongoing. Bethany tried to recall if it had ever been this quiet in her own time at school – perhaps it was merely nostalgia for lost Lothering, or perhaps it was the fact that most of the children now studying here had never known a school outside the Circle. There was a lot to be said for a Circle education, and Bethany would be the first to admit that the rebellion had robbed a lot of apprentices of the training due to them, but there was nonetheless an undeniable difference between studying behind bars and under Templar supervision and doing so freely and returning home at the end of the day.

The staff room was located off the main corridor on the ground floor. Entering, Bethany registered a few teachers at their desks, correcting tests or preparing lessons. She did not recognise most of them, but each and every one appeared to carry a staff. When she had taught here, there had still been a good number of non-mage teachers who had stayed behind in Redcliffe when the mages had taken over. Were they in classes?

Just as Bethany was about to comment on that circumstance to Lavellan, a familiar voice called out to her. "Master? Master Bethany, is that you?"

Could that be … before she could utter the name "Ella", a young woman of dark, Antivan features had appeared out of nowhere and slung her arms around her. From the corner of her eyes, Bethany barely noticed an alarmed Lavellan reached inside her jacket.

"I can't believe it! They said – they said you'd died at the Conclave. Sweet Maker, it is you, isn't it?"

"Ella! What … what are you doing here? I thought you were still in the Free Marches." Breaking the embrace to regard her old apprentice. She looked good, considering the circumstances – healthy, if somewhat leaner than she had been four years ago. She'd apparently acquired a sidecut hairstyle and a love of purple lipstick in her time away from the Circle, and was carrying a plain retractable staff on her belt. "You look good," she concluded. "I'm glad you got through alright after Kirkwall."

For instant, a shadow flew over the girl's face. "It wasn't easy," she admitted, nervously glancing at Lavellan, who slowly removed her hand from her sidearm. "For everyone who helped us, there were ten people who would just as soon have turned us over to the Templars. But – I suppose you'd know about that. I finally got here two months ago – apparently that was just after you'd left for the Conclave. When I mentioned I was a Force Mage, they gave me your old classes. But, tell me, master – what happened to you? And who's your friend?"

Bethany blushed. "Right. Ella, this is my friend Ellana of Clan Lavellan. She – well, we – are with the Inquisition now. Ellana, meet Ella. She was my apprentice at the Kirkwall Circle of Magi."

Easing up, Lavellan reached out her hand and smiled at the girl. "Good to meet you."

"Uh, likewise. I'm sorry, I didn't know there were Dalish in the Inquisition."

"Just the one!" Grinning, the elf left it at that.

"Wow. Okay. So, er – is it true what they say about the Inquisition?"

Bethany raised an eyebrow, curious. "Why, what do they say about us?"

"Apart from the Tevinter conspiracy thing, she means."

"Yeah. Apart from that."

"No one really believes that, not here, don't worry about that. But people say that a woman survived the explosion. And that she can close rifts. Some people – it's silly. Some people have been going around saying she's sent by Andraste to cleanse us of our sins."

Bethany and Lavellan shared a look. "Uh, yeah," the elf eventually said. "Mark those rumours down as true."

"Mostly. Anyway, the reason we're here is to find out what's the mood among the first enchanters. The Inquisition is trying to recruit mages, but we've been completely unable to establish communications with Grand Enchanter Fiona."

Instead of a reply, Ella drew them out of the teacher's lounge into the hallway, which was still deserted. "Alright," she said there, "this is a bit out of my league. But it used to be that the Grand Enchanter and her council met publicly, and went around the city visiting people to see how things were going. They don't do that anymore. Not since the Tevinters arrived."

"This is the first I've heard of any Tevinters. What would they be doing here? Are they mages?"

"They arrived last month and were immediately set up in the castle – there's not a whole lot of them, fifteen or twenty, maybe. Scientists, mostly, but of course you never know with Tevinter. They come down to the town every once in a while, but they never talk about what they're doing."

"And you think whatever they're doing is nefarious."

"Yes. And it's not just me, everyone thinks so too, even if they don't say it out loud. There's something going on at the castle, I'm sure of it."

Bethany's brow furrowed. It was too easy to ascribe these fears to simple xenophobia – while Tevinter was certainly no nation of saints, she did not see any reason for them to undermine the free mages' work here. Surely Tevinter, a nation of mages, could not but benefit from a strong mage movement in the south? "They're scientists? Do you know what sort of research they do?"

"I'm afraid I don't. But I do know that one of them is here right now to use the library on Chantry Road, so if you'd like to talk to him …" Ella trailed off.

"We should do that," Lavellan pointed out. "The Nightingale will want to know what's going on."

"Agreed. Ella, would you recognise the man if you saw him?"

"Oh, no question there. It's not a face you'd want to forget, that's for certain. I'm afraid I've got classes to get to, but I'm sure the librarian will be able to point you to him."

"Right." Bethany briefly embraced her former student. "I'd like to stay and talk, but we have business. Shall we meet up later, for tea?"

"Sure. There's some things I'd like to talk about. Do you have a phone? I couldn't reach you after Kirkwall …"

They exchanged numbers. "One more thing. I'm not sure what's going to happen here, but I wouldn't be surprised if Redcliffe got a lot less safe in the near future. If something happens – call me. Go to the Inquisition. They'll help you. I promise."

"Huh. Okay. Talk to you later?"

"Definitely." They parted, Ella hurrying to her classroom as Bethany and Lavellan made their way out of the school building. All things considered, this had gone better than expected. Bethany had thought of Ella with some regularity after her flight from Kirkwall – in one of their last conversations, just after Ser Cullen had Smitten her at the hospital, the girl had confided in her about her desire to live outside the Circle. Bethany, raised as an apostate, had known it was never that easy, and only rarely worth it. She was glad Ella had found some measure of happiness despite the hardships she'd surely had to endure.

The library of Redcliffe's old town was located just down the street from the school, in a recently-renovated building of rough stone and half-timber, with large skylights providing light to the reading gallery. Bethany had been there a few times before, though she had been largely disappointed by the library's offering.

Ella's prediction proved correct – the librarian on duty immediately knew who they were asking for. "He's Tevinter, then? I thought he looked northern. Doesn't exactly fit the stereotype though, does he? I think he's upstairs, in the history section. Left off the stairs."

The librarian left them wondering about what stereotype exactly she had meant. There was only one person in the history section of the library, a tall, dark gentleman mage who looked more like a painter or runway model than any sort of scientist. Unlike most Tevinter mages she had encountered in Kirkwall, he did not wear much black, a hood or any kind of spikes. In fact, his handsomeness was matched by a rather expensive-looking white linen suit, worn over a dark shirt with a turquoise tie and a silk shawl to match the suit, and a tastefully discrete staff at his waist. Clearly, 'scientist' had meant some sort of arts scholar.

"Shameful, isn't it?," he asked without looking up as Bethany and Lavellan approached his reading desk, a sarcastic tint in his voice. "You'd think they'd have at least one or two volumes on early Tevene history. There's a copy of the Mallefica Imperio, of course, but no one in the world takes Burckhardt's propaganda seriously anymore. I should hope so, anyway." Finally, he looked up at them with a brilliant smile. "Forgive my manners. Dr Dorian Pavus, of the University and Circle of Minrathous. How do you do."

"Pleased to meet you. My name is Hawke, and this is Ms Lavellan – we're from the Inquisition. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?"

"Well, that doesn't sound ominous at all. I imagine this is about the presence of me and my compatriots in Redcliffe, yes? That seems to be all that's on everyone's minds these days, though I had thought the Inquisition to be above such petty rumours. More's the pity."

The two women sat at the reading desk opposite Dr Pavus. "That's part of it, yes. We've only arrived in the city today and no one seem to know all that much about what's going on at the castle. I've been told you're scientists?"

"People could just ask, you know. I'd be happy to direct you to our project's website. It's quite flashy." The doctor shrugged. "Most of us are scientists, yes. Of course you've got a handful of research assistants and security guards, but for the most part we're researchers – about two dozen in total, just over half of them mages."

"So what exactly do you research, then?"

A faint look of annoyance appeared on Dr Pavus' face. "One would think the rumour mill would have found out at least that much. I certainly haven't made a secret of our research. Simply put, we are investigating certain causal anomalies combined with perveline matter transpositions in multiple dimensions, which coincided with the sundering of the Veil at the Conclave."

Bethany raised an eyebrow. "Is that how you explained your research to everyone you asked?"

"No wonder they thought you were up to no good."

Pavus scoffed, though his lips and his luxuriant moustache twitched with amusement. "In a town full of mages, one should be able to expect at least some basic knowledge of arcane physics." He leaned forward. "Listen. Everything that happens, is caused by other things and causes other things – that's Motte Wren's Third Law of Motion; for every action there is an opposite and equal reaction. Normally, you can trace matter and the forces exerted upon it via the Veil, which mirrors our physical world. With me so far?"

"Sure."

"Good. Now, when your Conclave exploded, our time was running a series of experiments on such causal relationships in Minrathous. Everything was going as expected, until we suddenly discovered a handful of molecules in an experiment that had no business being there. We examined the Veil to see where it had come from and how it had affected our experiment, only to find out that it had not come from anywhere." Dramatic pause. "It was a tiny piece of matter from beyond the Veil."

Bethany raised an eyebrow. This man was, quite clearly, taking her for a fool. "Every apprentice knows that the Fade is incorporeal. There is no such thing as matter beyond the Veil."

"Uh, what about spirits?," Lavellan asked. "The ones that have been coming through to our side sure felt fleshy to me."

"Because they were on our side. In their natural state, a spirit or demon is nothing more than … I'm not sure if there is a scientific term for it. They're ideas, abstract philosophical concepts. Patterns of energy. Only when they come into our physical world do they attain corporeality."

"Ms Hawke is quite correct. It had not, in fact, come from the Fade, but had only passed through the Veil. Parallel to it, so to speak."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Honestly? Neither do we. This is beyond everything we've ever seen." Conspiratorially, Dr Pavus leaned across the desk. "We believe that the rules of magic are changing. That the Breach is doing – something to the Veil. All of arcane physics might be obsolete now. Who knows what we can accomplish now?"

"That's a sweeping claim. You wouldn't happen to have any evidence to back it up, would you?"

Dr Pavus rolled his eyes with affected annoyance. "No, we came all the way to the arse-end of nowhere on a hunch. Ah, well, you've been listening so far – and you clearly know a thing or two about arcane physics. If you're interested, I can show you around our labs at the castle. Maker knows we're not making any progress, and an outside opinion can't hurt."

Bethany and Lavellan shared a look. Well, there was their way in. It went unspoken that the grand enchanter would have to shed light on what, exactly, was going on. "We'd be happy to," Bethany told Dr Pavus. "If it isn't any trouble."

The physicist's smile lit up with a peculiar glint. "None whatsoever, I assure you. Now, let's be on our way, shall we? I've grown rather weary of this pitiful library."

Confined within its walls as it was, old Redcliffe was small enough that the walk up to the Castle Bridge only took a few minutes, made all the shorter by the doctor's charming company. His genial conversation rather reminded Bethany of Madame de la Ferre; the two physicists would certainly get along famously. Or maybe not, given de la Ferre's expressed opinions on mage rights. While it had certainly been refreshing to hear a fellow mage express Bethany's views on the matter, rather than re-treading Anders' tired dictums, she could not help but feel that the other woman was … well, a bit of a bitch.

A checkpoint had been set up on the bridge leading to the castle, staffed by a bored-looking mage and a pair of contracted security guards. This was new. Dr Pavus got them through without any incident, but to Bethany, the very presence of the checkpoint seemed to bode ill. In her time at Redcliffe, the castle had been the seat of the community's administration, and as unrestricted as any town hall in Ferelden. Most people had made the walk up to the castle regularly, whether to work in the administration or apply for new ration cards when one inevitably ran out of food stamps three weeks into the month. It did not seem like Grand Enchanter Fiona to restrict access to the castle.

Lavellan seemed to share the same reservations. "Heightened security," she murmured to Bethany while Pavus was talking to the mage at the checkpoint, "Doesn't look like much, but the guards are armed. Something's going on up there." The elf glanced at Pavus. "Do you think this is a wise idea, ma'am?"

Somewhat uneasily, she shrugged. "You got a better idea?"

"I wish. I'll definitely hold on to my gun though."

Pavus returned, handing them laminated visitor's passes. This was new, too. "Sorry for the hassle. There's been some minor incidents with the locals."

"What sort of 'incidents'?"

"Oh, nothing major. Vandalism, mainly. Graffiti, some thrown eggs."

Without further elaboration, Dr Pavus bade them follow. Soon, they reached the castle – the courtyard was deserted, save for a small number of vans with the marking of a rental company on them, which Bethany suspected had been used by the Tevinter scientists to transport their equipment. The situation hardly changed after they entered the castle – the reception desk, once the ticket office of the Redcliffe Historical Museum, was not manned, and instead of the bustle of activity Bethany had found on her previous visits, the place seemed deserted.

The Tevinters had set up shop on the first floor of the museum wing. Between the tapestries and suits of armour lining the brightly-lit corridors, thick bundles of power cables snaked their way into the laboratories. Showcases full of artefacts of local history had been moved to the corridors to make space for workstations and lab equipment. "It's a bit of a primitive set-up," Dr Pavus explained, "but considering the state of the region, we weren't able to find anyone to actually talk to at the University of Redcliffe. We've got access to the supercollider in Hucknall, but that's hardly an ideal solution. Still, we make do. Here, let me introduce you to our project lead."

Dr Pavus knocked on a door marked 'Lab 31'. A few words were exchanged in rapid Tevene, then they were let in. A pair of men in pristine lab coats were hunched over a trio of screens connected to some sort of lightly humming machine in the centre of the room, but turned to face them when they entered. "You've brought some visitors, I see?," the older of them asked, stripping off his disposable gloves to shake their hands. His greying hair was shorn short, his features lean and sharp, but his smile was warm.

"Allow me to introduce my mentor, Magister Gereon Alexius, and his son, Felix. Gereon, Felix, meet Mses Hawke and Lavellan. They're with the Inquisition."

The magister seemed slightly taken aback at being introduced to a Dalish elf, but shook both of their hands without hesitation. Felix – the family resemblance now obvious – gave them a warm nod without stepping away from the workstation. "Welcome. I must admit, we weren't expecting any visitors, let alone Inquisition officers. So you'll have to forgive us for the mess around here. Tell me, what brings you here?"

Instead of a straight answer, Bethany said: "Dr Pavus told us about your research. It sounds fascinating. The way he explained it, it sounded like the laws of magic have been changing since the Breach."

"Strange though it may sound, that is indeed what our data suggests. With the Veil thinner than ever, there is also far more background magic in the physical world – and that accounts for some of the things we're seeing. Random bursts of magic, broken mana formulas, and even – we think – time travel."

"Time travel!," Bethany gasped, amusement mixing with disbelief. She had a strong feeling that she was being taken for a fool.

"I know how it sounds. Still, that is what our results suggest. Felix, would you happen to have the video of the mice on that computer?"

"It should be in the cloud. Hold on a sec …" A few clicks and –

Alexius' phone rang. The older mage gave an exasperated sigh as he picked up. "All the time, I swear … excuse me." A few quick sentences in barked Tevene were exchanged, then Alexius made an apologetic grimace. "I do apologise, officers. There's been yet another mishap with the equipment. Felix, Dorian, be so good as to show the Inquisition around?"

"Of course, pater." Alexius left in a hurry, and Dr Pavus closed the door behind him.

"How much have we got?"

"Ten minutes, if we're lucky. Depends on how much damage Marcus was able to do."

Lavellan reached for her gun. "What's going on here?"

"Whoa, careful with that! I'm sorry to startle you, but I'm afraid that was the only way we could talk in private."

"What about? Why couldn't Magister Alexius hear it?"

"You better answer that question right fucking now, Tevinter!"

Felix rose his hands in defence. "Listen. Let's put all our cards on the table here, alright?"

Dr Pavus stepped to his side. "I wasn't entirely honest with you, Ms Hawke. We've known you were in the city since you first stepped foot through the gate, and we know you're the leader of the Inquisition – the mysterious 'Herald of Andraste'".

"Some call me that. But I am not the Inquisition's leader."

"Huh. Be that as it may, I imagine you came here to recruit Grand Enchanter Fiona for your Inquisition?"

Bethany and Lavellan shared a look. The two Tevinters did not seem especially trustworthy, but she didn't think they meant them harm. "Put the gun away, Ellana," Bethany told her companion. And yes, that's why we're here. Is there something you can tell us?"

"I'm afraid we don't know where father is holding her, if that's what you mean," Felix said. "But he has got her locked up somewhere and has put himself in charge of the city, that much is certain."

"Knew it …," Lavellan murmured under her breath.

Bethany had to admit, she had suspected something was amiss. It wasn't like the Grand Enchanter to just disappear without a trace, and the arrival of the Tevinters was more than suspicious. "The magister's your father," she asked Felix. "Why would you tell on him?"

"For his own sake. My father is a good man, a gentle man, and a powerful mage and brilliant scientist, too. This isn't like him. He's – he's joined some sort of cult. They call themselves the Venatori – some sort of ultranationalist resurgence bullshit, I don't know the details. But ever since he hasn't been the same. He needs our help."

"True," Dr Pavus confirmed. "I hardly recognise the man who taught me in him. Void, he didn't even explain the point of this expedition to us until we arrived – and here's the weirdest thing. We were planning on coming to Redcliffe for weeks before the attack on the Conclave. We arrived two days after the Breach, in fact. There was literally no scientific reason for moving our team to Ferelden. Gereon simply couldn't have known the Breach would be there."

Well, that sounded ominous. This … cult seemed interesting. People were already suspecting Tevinter nationalists behind the attack on the Conclave, after all. Could Magister Alexius have been complicit in it? That would explain his apparent foreknowledge of the Breach. But surely not even Tevinter could benefit from tearing a massive hole in the Veil … It made Bethany's head spin, truly. Years hunting Maleficars in the Kirkwall MCIS had done nothing to prepare her for this sort of thing. "You think your own father had something to do with this? With the Conclave, the Breach, all this chaos?"

"Well … not directly. But it's too much of a coincidence. These … Venatori … are dangerous, believe me."

"And this is why we need your help," Dr Pavus concluded. "The Inquisition wants to find Grand Enchanter Fiona, and we need to get Gereon under control. I think we can help each other, Herald."

She hesitated. "I'm … I'm going to have to run that past the board, I think. I can't make that decision on my own."

"We understand. Dorian and I think we can keep an eye on father and keep him from doing anything too questionable. In the meantime, we'll try and figure out how to get to Grand Enchanter Fiona. Thankfully, we can assume she's too important to just kill."

"That's grim."

"Also true, hopefully. If the Venatori are behind the attack, Fiona's life might depend on her usefulness as a mouthpiece. Is there some way we can contact you in case the situation changes?"

"Right. Here, I'll give you my phone number."

"Phone numbers, huh? Very cloak-and-dagger."

"Hey, whatever works."

"Fair enough. That should let us stay in contact. I don't expect the Venatori can tap phones."

"Now there's a frightening thought. In any case, we'll keep our eyes open and you get your people on our side, yes?"

Bethany smiled. "That's the plan."

"Marvellous. You see, Felix, at this rate we'll be home by Satinalia."

Somehow, each of them doubted that was likely to happen.

Well, that only took forever. I've been quite busy in Venice, though of course that's no excuse. Also, FO4. Daaamn.

Some notes:

1) I'm not sure to what extent my description of Redcliffe is topical. While I've been very interested in the refugee crisis facing Europe and the Near East this year, this was not consciously an influence on my writing. Obviously, the experience of being a refugee is fairly universal, so applicability is there if you want it to be.

2) Redcliffe is a 18th-century style fortified city - a star fort writ large. Most European cities and towns worth mentioning used to have fortifications like that, which often could get quite elaborate. Unfortunately, maintenance costs, urban sprawl and changes in warfare made them obsolete, and very few still survive. Redcliffe is an exception, mainly because local government never got around to demolishing their fortifications until they were turned into a heritage site.

3) Technobabble! Basically take my word for all the magitek stuff.