Chasing The Past
It was late in the morning and Rajmael just got back from the Winter Palace, and Rajmael found himself once more in the Skyhold Garden. He stood before the small shrine dedicated to his gods and prepared for his morning prayers. Just as he was about to begin he felt a strange, unknown presence. He looked behind him and noticed a young human boy no older than Eva, with dark hair wearing simple Orlesian styled clothing in dark colors. Somehow the boy seemed familiar. Rajmael looked at the proud griffon pendant on his chest, the pendant of a Grey Warden, and knew he had seen it before somewhere.
"You're the Inquisitor." The child pointed out. "Mother didn't tell me the Inquisitor was an elf."
Rajmael couldn't help but smile at the boy. "You caught me. Did my ears or my tattoos give me away?"
The boy shook his head. "No, it was your magic, I felt it right away. Only the elvhen have ever been able to use such power so greatly with those swords."
Rajmael curiously quirked an eyebrow. What was this child talking about?
"Kieran. Are you bothering the Inquisitor?" Morrigan asked as she approached the boy.
"Of course not. Did you see his hand, Mother?" The boy answered quietly.
"I did see, in fact. 'Tis time to return to your studies, little man." Morrigan instructed softly.
Kieran gave that disinterested sigh that Rajmael used to give to his Keeper, the same one Eva gave him when he gave her chores. Morrigan motioned her hand, and Kieran quietly obeyed.
"My son. Never where you expect him to be, naturally." Morrigan said affectionately. Morrigan no longer wore a gown that was appropriate for the Orlesian court, but almost tattered looking leather, furs and feathers that confirmed her Chasind heritage.
Now Rajmael remembered why the boy seemed so familiar. "He…seems like a fine boy. You must be proud of him. Parenthood is indeed a blessing."
"I…have done my best." Morrigan confessed. "No son of mine would be raised in a cold marsh, bereft of all contact with the world. I never saw myself being a mother, and having him was the best decision I ever had, and I will do anything to protect him. If he is remarkable, then that is father's doing. My love has every reason to be proud."
Rajmael saw the familiar look of longing in Morrigan's eyes. She tried to maintain a posture of power, but a person's eyes always told the truth. And the truth was exactly what Rajmael needed to say right now.
"Kieran's father. He is Aedan Cousland's son, isn't he?" Rajmael asked knowingly.
An unwelcomed look f surprise came over Morrigan's face. "How…how could you know that?"
"I think you and I had better talk, Morrigan. It concerns the possible future." Rajmael answered seriously.
Rajmael and Morrigan sat beneath the garden gazebo, and he revealed to her the nightmarish future he had seen. The world being devoured by the Breach, a demon army crushing all of Thedas. About Aedan Cousland's furious last stand against a horde of demons after being horrifically tortured for a year. About how The Hero of Ferelden was forced to watch his wife and son die at the hands of the Elder One.
A pained look of determination was frozen on Morrigan's face as she looked over at her son. "No. That will not happen. Inquisitor, I swear I will do whatever it takes to help you destroy Corypheus. He will not have my son as long as I draw breath."
Somehow Rajmael now felt sorry for every poor Venatori bastard that was foolish enough to swear loyalty to Corypheus. Morrigan possesses some kind of power that was foreign, yet somehow familiar to him. It was fortunate he now had her on his side. Any woman capable of loving someone as vicious as Aedan Cousland, must also be equally vicious.
~XoXoXo~
Rajmael stood in the War Room overlooking the various requests of aid from the Inquisition. Rajmael had hoped to have received word from The Champion at this point, but it seemed his Warden Contact was still underground. Rajmael was surprised and disapointed to find a request of aid from the Inner Court of Empress Celene. In the Dales where the Celene and Gaspard's forces had been fighting, both sides were now undersiege by a guerrilla group call themselves the Freeman of the Dales. Things were still chaotic in the capital, and Celene was still dealing with the vestiges of Gaspard and Florianne's treason. Her request was to go to the Dales and inform both sides that the war was over. Gaspard's men would believe the word of the Herald of Andraste, and her people were in dire need. The Freeman of the Dales had become a real threat.
The Dales? Rajmael, Nethras and Evanura used to dream of seeing their ancestral homeland together. Of gathering all the Dalish clans and reclaiming their lost kingdom in the name of the Creators. A childhood fantasy, but one he wished he could make real.
His mind was made up. He would go to the Dales, and see what damage these Freeman of the Dales were causing.
The Exalted Plains
"Inquisitor, welcome to the Exalted Plains, a place with a long and bloody history." Scout Harding greeted as she looked at the landscape. "When the Exalted March on the Dales was nearly complete, the last of the elven warriors and the Emerald Knights stood here for one last battle, instead of accepting the Chantry's offer of surrender. It's…kind of sad, really."
"The Dirthaveran. The Promise that was lost." Rajmael said sadly. "We are the Dalish: keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. We are the last of the Elvhen, and never again shall we submit." For the first time in Rajmael's life, that oath tasted like bitter ashes.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Inquisitor. That was thoughtless of me." A sudden sense of embarrassment and shock came over Harding when she realized who she was talking to. She decided to quickly change the subject before she made more of an ass of herself. "Um, these Freeman of the Dales have been seen all over the place causing havoc for the Orlesian forces wherever they go. These Imperial soldiers don't even know the war is over yet. And to make things worse, the undead are popping up everywhere."
Rajmael wasn't sure he heard that correctly. "The Undead? How can that be?"
"I'm no mage, I couldn't tell you." Harding shrugged. "Some people think the Freeman are responsible."
"And what do you know of these Freeman of the Dales, Harding?"
"Most of them a deserters from both sides of the war." The Scout answered. "Now they want to try taking the Dales as a kingdom for themselves. I think there's more to it than that. A bunch of butt-hurt deserters doesn't become so well organized or well-armed without some kind of outside assistance."
"There's nothing more dangerous, or treacherous than bastards who desert in the middle of a war." Blackwall said distastefully.
"Anything else?"
"Oh. We spotted a Dalish clan camped to the east. We kept our distance." Harding answered.
That last bit of information really caught Rajmael's attention. He had not received any news of the other Dalish clans, and judging from how vicious the civil war was, Rajmael had no doubt that the clans had difficulty. The Inquisitor had already done much for the citizens of Ferelden, Orlais, and the City Elves, but now he felt that he hadn't done enough for his Sister Clans.
As they made their way from the camp towards the nearby rampart, Rajmael noticed the marker erected in the middle of the path with two colossal human statues standing on either side of the path, looking down with determination carved on to their marble faces, and holding out massive brazzier in their outstretched hands like torches. Rajmael saw a plaque on the marker that read:
The Path of Flame
Remember where Andraste's Champions first set foot in the Exalted Plains, called Dirthavaren by the elves.
Halamshiral's dark heart was conquered, but one last challenge came from the elves, who would not submit to the Maker. They gathered upon the plain; our Champions answered their call. Marching in Andraste's Light, on the Path of Flame: Lord Demetrius Aron, Sister Amity, and Ser Brandis of Lac Celestine, called the Silver Helm.
Demetrius's End
Remember Lord Demetrius Aron, the only one of Andraste's Champions to fall.
The forces of the Exalted March met the elves upon the field; our numbers far exceeded theirs. The Champions, kind and fair, gave the elves a chance for peace, but the elves would not lay down their arms. They slew Lord Demetrius in their charge. Maker take him to His side.
Lindiranae's Fall
Remember the victory of the Dales.
The elves were murderous and wild, for the Maker's grace did not touch them. The wildest of them was the she-elf Lindiranae, wielder of the great blade Evanura. Defiant to the last, she met Ser Brandis, the Silver Helm, in single combat, and he bested her. With Lindiranae fell the Dales.
Triumph of the Light
Remember the triumph over the profane.
Sister Amity led the march to the river Tenasir, where stood shrines to the elven gods. These she struck down; standing upon the banks, she sang the Chant of Light. Andraste's Word had come to the Dales, and delivered them from wickedness.
Rajmael recited each word with hate and disgust rising in his voice, and his companions feel the anger radiating from him.
Rajmael cursed hatefully. He furiously drew his sword and cut down the lying marker in three masterful strokes. Then he charged two balls of spirit energy that hummed in his hands and blasted the two sentinel statues that dared to overlook this lie.
"What are you doing?!" Cassandra asked with shock and surprise.
"These are national land marks to the Orlesian Empire." Vivienne scolded.
"The Champions kind and fair? Ser Brandis killing Lindrinae in single combat?! Bullshit!" Rajmael spat. "Lindrinae was offered a challenge for single combat by Brandis, and she accepted to give her men time to fall back. But when she approached the field, Brandis' archers shot her down, and Brandis stole her sword like a thief and a coward! I will not tolerate these lies that slander my people!"
"People never get a say in how history is written in war they lost." Blackwall commented sympathetically.
"Human history often paints their own tyranny as salvation, while forgetting those they destroyed." Solas stated.
"This land remembers the blood that was spilt here. It remembers the Promise that was broken." Cole whispered forlornly.
"You see, this is why you can't trust human history to tell the truth." Iron Bull commented.
"You elfy-types can't get over that 'Lost Glory' crap can you?" Sera sighed in annoyance.
A vein started pounding in Rajmael's forehead. How dare she?! "And who the fuck are you to judge us, Sera?! All you do is run around stealing and playing, but you've never done anything that actually helps anyone. I thought that shit you pulled in Verchiel proved that, or did you forget that, too?""
"Right, fine. Be a shit." Sera grumbled.
"Watch it, Sera." Rajmal warned with his hand touching his sword. "I only have so much patience."
"Rajmael, please!" Cassandra finally voiced. "We are here for a reason. The Plains are dangerous and we cannot afford to be distracted."
Rajmael grunted in anger and relented. And it was a good thing that Cassandra reminded him of their mission, because just a little further down the way, they were ambushed by the Freeman of the Dales.
"The Dales belong to the Freeman now!" The deserter cried.
"No crown! No nobles! No Inquisition!"
"We will take the Dales for ourselves!"
Rajmael was NOT in the mood for anymore Orlesian shemlen bullshit. There were six of them armed with Orlesian styled armor tower shields, finely crafted maces, and bows. These men were conscripts at worst, common foot soldiers at best. And Rajmael needed to blow off some steam, this would not take long.
Rajmael had learned his lesson of Rift Magic from Solas well. He threw a Spirit Fist at the Freeman carrying a large tower shield and launched him into the air, and he landed on pointy, broken tree stump that ripped through his armor. The three archers launched their arrows at the Inquisitor. Rajmael timed his next move perfectly; he performed a flawless flourish that struck all the arrows in mid-air, and sent them flying back at the archer, where they landed into their heads, hearts, and eyes respectively.
The fourth one, a large man wielding an axe, came at the Inquisitor with and a well-practiced and powerful overhead strike. Rajmael quickly side-stepped out of the way of the axe, and in one deft stroke, sliced off both the man's hands. The now handless Freeman dropped to his knees, screaming his head off as he looked at the two new stumps on his wrists that spurting ropes of blood. Rajmael quickly silenced him with a horizontal stroke to the head that separated his upper head from his lower jaw.
After seeing his fellow "Freedom fighters" die so quickly, the last one remaining tried to do the smart thing by dropping his weapons and running as fast as he could. But Rajmael wasn't in the mood for survivors. He threw a claw of spirit energy at the running Freeman, and caught him before he could get away. Rajmael lifted the man in the air and held his sword out in front of him, pointing it right at the deserter as he slowly pulled him towards the tip of the sword.
"No! NO-OO! Sweet Maker! Mercy!" The man cried as he struggled in vain against the powerful grip of the ethereal claw that slowly brought him closer and closer to the Inquisitor's outstretched sword. The blade lit up with veilfire, and, ever so slowly, pierced through the man's armor and into his flesh. The Freeman screamed in horrible agony as his body was painfully impaled on the sylvanwood sword. His screams soon became loud gurgles as his own blood began spurting on his mouth. Rajmael stopped pulling him when the tip of the Vir Enasalin was sticking out of the man's back. The Freeman kicked and twitched a few times like a fish on a hook, and finally died. Rajmael effortlessly flung him away like a piece of trash, and flicked the shem's blood off his sword.
With these Freeman dead, Rajmael felt a little bit better. He suddenly felt a strange tingle up his spine. That distinct notion that they were being watched. Rajmael looked over towards the nearby tree line and waved to it.
"Andaran atish'an, brother!" Rajmael called out the trees. "There is no need to hide, we mean no harm."
Cassandra was surprised to see two elves, Dalish judging from their tattoos, suddenly emerged from the trees like specters. How long had they been watching?
"Anadaran ati'shan, brother." One of the hunters greeted politely.
"You must be from the Inquisition. Which would you the Inquisitor!" The other hunter observed enthusiastically. "My name is Loranil, and this is Olafin, our clan is camped near the river to the east. We've heard so much about you!"
"For the shemlen to have raised one of our own so high, many of the clans believe you're the sign of change that we've been waiting for." Loranil answered. "But…some, like Keeper Hawen, think that, perhaps, you've forgotten our people to embrace the Chantry."
That last bit of information really stung Rajmael, but it didn't surprise him. Sometimes he thought that as well. "Can you guide us to your camp, Loranil? Perhaps your Keeper can aid us in our mission."
"I'd be proud to assist you." Loranil smiled.
"My dear Inquisitor, do you honestly now is the time for warm reunions with your people?" Vivienne asked almost scoldingly. "We are here for a reason."
"I realize long term thought outside your comfort zone is difficult, Vivienne. So try to keep up." Rajmael said patronizingly. "My people know more about the land then your kind could ever wish to. If the dead are rising, then more likely than not, the Dalish will know more about it, and how to deal with it, than a stuck up know-it-all Enchanter, whose never spent a day out in the real world."
Varric, Iron Bull and Cole all took several steps away from Vivienne. They could all feel the anger building up inside her, and they didn't want to be in her way if she finally boiled over. Vivienne had never been spoken to in such a manner. Especially by an elf. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her acting on his uncouth, and unsophisticated behavior. Vivienne, and the Inquisition, still had some use for Rajmael.
~XoXoXo~
The Dalish clan was settled next to the Evanuris River bank in a rocky grotto. The aravels were settled around the grotto being tended to by several clan members, and the halla were herded around the campsite, grazing along the bank. Rajmael was a little nervous. The Dalish are not always the most welcoming of people, especially here in the Dales, where they had a particular reputation, one that was not unearned. And some people in his company weren't exactly famous for their subtle, and open-minded approach to foreign concepts.
"Solas, Cassandra, and Varric, you three will accompany me into the camp." Rajmael ordered. "The rest of you will stay out here, with your mouths shut, and do your best not to be assholes. Especially you, Sera."
"Hey!" Sera protested.
"And Dorian. I know I'm asking a lot, but try not to make yourself noticeable to The People. Amongst the Dalish, killing a Tevinter Mage is something of a life goal. And you being…you, they'd take their time with it."
"I'll just stay in the back then." Dorian promised.
"Are you expecting trouble?" Blackwall asked.
"Standard Dalish procedure when dealing with outsiders: for every one elf you see in the camp, there are four more you don't see, and they're pointing arrows at you."
Iron Bull's one eye started looking around for the potential aggressors, while Vivienne got that agitated look on her face, and Cole just stood there like nothing was wrong.
"Don't bother trying to find them." Rajmael informed. "The Dalish are born in camouflage."
Loranil led Rajmael and his three companions to Keeper Hawen. The Keeper was a man who was getting on his years. Grey had completely settled in his knotted hair, his face was worn from years of living in the wild, and the vallaslin he carried to honor Andruil showed signs of fading. Rajmael noticed the look of disaprovement behind the Keeper's weary eyes.
Something seemed wrong. Rajmael could feel the sorrow in the air. The Craftsmen, Halla Tender, and a few hunters were performing their duties, but where was everyone else? He saw other adults around the campsite but only a handful of youths, and no children.
"Andaran atish'an, harehn." Rajmael greeted respectfully.
"Aneth ara, da'len." Keeper Hawen welcomed politely. "It is always good to meet another of the People. You must be the one they call the Herald of Andraste."
"Keeper Hawen, you should have seen him!" Loranil bursted in. "He is Dirth'ena Enasalin! An Arcane Warrior! Olafin and I watched him destroy those Chantry Statues that commemorate the Exalted March, and then cut down a whole squad of the shems who call themselves the Freeman of the Dales! All with a sylvanwood sword!"
"Dirth'ena Enasalin? That is most impressive." The Keeper commented.
"Keeper, what difficulties is your clan facing?" Rajmael asked concernedly. "This cannot be your whole clan. Where are your children?"
"Oh, where do I start, da'len." Keeper Hawen sighed. "The War of the Lions has completely halted our movement, their war machines cause rockslides that block the paths and harm our aravels. My First, Taven, takes a group of our youths on a foolhardy quest to Dinan'Hanin to recover a lost piece of history, despite the danger. And now demons walk Var Bellanaris, the sacred resting place of our dead. I had to send most of our clan away for fear of their safety."
"I remember Taven. He and I spoke briefly at the last Arlathvhen. He was quite eager to rediscover lost lore, as I recall." Rajmael remembered.
"Yes, I know." Keeper Hawen sighed. "I suppose I should be proud that he is so eager to help our people, but I don't want to lose him and the others to find it. He has taken members of our Clan to Dinan'hanin, the former Headquarters of the Emerald Knights to try and find a piece of our history untouched by the Chantry. But the way there is sealed, and those halls are riddled with traps. I fear for their safety."
Shemlen monarchs, no matter their nationality, hardly ever cared about how their wars affected others. And the elves of the world have always been victims of their ignorance. Rajmael could not ignore the plight of his fellow Dalish. Not if he could help them.
"Keeper Hawen, please, allow me to assist you in laying the spirits of Var Ballanaris to rest." Rajmael pleaded.
"That is a dangerous request, and I cannot in good conscience ask you to do that, da'len. But if you choose aid us, then may Mythal bless you." Keeper Hawen consented. "But be careful. Var Bellnaris is sacred ground."
As Rajmael turned to leave, he was approached by a young elven lass in her late teens. She had brown hair, and hadn't received her vallaslin yet. She must not have undergone her initiation yet.
"Wait, Inquisitor!" the young lady pleaded. "My name is Emalien, I heard that you're going to exorcise Var Bellanaris. Perhaps you can also help me?"
"Help you with what, da'len?"
"My brother!" Emalien answered agitatedly. "Valorin was passed over a First to Keeper Hawen in favor of Taven. He thinks it's a slight, but he's wrong. Valorin was just not ready."
"Ah. The impetuousness of youth." Solas commented. "Too often it can lead to danger."
"What happened to your brother?" Rajmael asked.
"He ran off a few nights ago, chasing after some wild theories about Lindrinae's sword, Evanura." Emalien explained. "He thinks finding it will earn him Keeper Hawen's respect, but we just want him to come home. With these demons and Freeman of the Dales walking around, I worry for his safety. Please, lethallan, bring him home."
Rajmael knew the loss she was feeling more than most. He knew what it was like to lose a brother to impulsiveness and outside ignorance. "I will…try to find your brother, Emalien."
"Creators bless you!" Emalien thanked.
~XoXoXo~
Var Bellanaris, "Our Eternity" in elvhen, was an ancient burial ground for the elves back when they ruled Halamshiral. To the Dalish it was one of their most sacred sites. Rituals to Falon'Din were conducted on those grounds to lay the dead to rest and guide their spirits to the Creators. Even after the Exalted March on The Dales, the humans and their Chantry left those grounds alone for fear of them being cursed.
The ancient graveyard was pressed into the forest of the Exalted Plains near the banks of the Evanuris River. As they made their way to it, Rajmael could feel the magical disturbance, the motion of spirits coming from that holy place.
"If we are going to exorcise this place of demons, would it not be prudent to fetch a priest?" Cassandra suggested. "Aside from slaying them, I don't know any other means of dispatching demons."
"I second that motion." Vivienne agreed. "We are hardly equipped to vanquish these demons without tearing apart these elves' graveyard."
"Hm. That actually does sound like a good idea, Boss." Iron Bull voiced in. "I'll fight whoever you point men at, but I actually prefer to avoid demons."
"The spirits there have been disturbed, and now they're mad. Someone made them very angry." Cole drifted.
Rajmael groaned agitatedly. "And do you all really think that a Chantry Mother has any business being in Var Bellanaris? Do you really think the blessing of the Maker or Andraste mean anything to the spirits of elves who were dedicated to the worship of the Creators? And maybe you've forgotten, but I am, in fact, a priest! Trust me, I can handle it! And I don't need another god's interference, especially on elven holy ground!"
Everyone quickly kept their mouths shut. Cassandra especially felt contrite. Even after witnessing him destroy those Chantry markers, she had completely forgotten that Rajmael was devoted to his own gods, and was a priest to them. After spending dedicating her whole life to the Maker, understanding people with different faiths and cultures was difficult. And while she loved Rajmael dearly, one of the things she feared is that she would never understand him.
~XoXoXo~
They reached the outskirts of Var Bellanaris, and all the mages in the party could feel the demonic energy coming from that place. But that wasn't the only thing wrong. There were Freeman fighting the demons back into the graveyard and held their ground right at the threshold of the entrance. The Freeman were too busy to notice Rajmael and the others watching them behind some nearby trees and boulders. What were the Freeman doing here?
"This is madness!" One of the Freeman officers screamed as his men formed a defensive phalanx at the entrance. "What are we even doing on this cursed elven ground, Gordian?!"
Another man dressed in Orlesian styled clothing and mask approached the threshold. Judging from the staff he carried and the tome strapped to his hip, the man was a spellbinder. "You Freemen want the Dales for yourselves, and my Lord Corypheus will give you the Dales. But only after you've upheld your end of the bargain, Captain."
"What could your Elder One possibly want with cursed elven artifacts?" The Captain questioned.
"Whatever the conditions of or arrangement are, they're between my Lord Corypheus and your General Maliphant." Gordian reminded. "Our job is to carry out their arrangement."
"Fine! Let's just get this over with!" The captain barked. "Bring the knife-ear over here!"
Several of the Freeman dragged a young elven boy in chains He was Dalish judging from his facial tattoos, but far too young to have had them long. The young man struggled every step of the way, cursing at his captors in elven. The Freemen kicked him to his knees and pressed a dagger to his throat.
Gordian knelt down to face the elf. "Tell me, knife-ear, how to open the doors to Var Bellanaris, and I promise to let you go. If you do not, I will slay you right now."
The elf hocked in his throat and spat the eye-hole in Gordian's fancy mask. "Go eat a dead dog's balls, you shemlen filth! Unlike you, I'll never betray my people!"
Gordian wiped the spittle from his mask, then emotionlessly plunged a dagger into the young elf's chest.
"NO!" Rajmael screamed, revealing his presence to their enemies.
"It's the Inquisition! Kill them!" Gordian screamed.
Rajmael's eyes burned with power and his Shimmering Shield lit up like a torch as he charged the Freeman, his sylvanwood sword blazing with white-hot veilfire. The Freeman fired crossbow bolts, but The Inquisitor dodged them with impossible speed. From ten paces away Rajmael swung the Enasalin in a horizontal strike and sent an arc of white spirit energy at the crossbowmen, decapitating them like dandelion heads.
Two more Freeman advanced on the Inquisitor with their swords in hand. One went in on the left, the other charged from the right. Rajmael simultaneously parried both swordsman, shattering their blades like glass, then slashing them across the midsection, spilling their entrails all over the ground.
The Captain came at Rajmael with an impressive sword of fine make. He must have been a Chevalier, judging from his form. The two of them exchanged a quick series of strikes and parries, then Rajmael brought his sword down upon the Freeman Commander with all his might. The Freeman held up his blade to block the blow, but Rajmael's sword broke right through the Orlesian steel blade, and cut the Commander from crown to crotch. The two perfectly dissected halves of the Captain's being fell apart and spilt the contents of his body all over the place.
All that was left was Gordian. The Venatori liaison tried to conjure a spell with his staff, but Rajmael used a force pull to rip it from the Spellbinder's grip, and smashed it on to the ground, breaking it like a twig.
"You think this a victory, Inquisitor?" Gordian asked spitefully. "Nothing is safe from the Elder One's…ghakh!" The mage had no chance to finish his rant when Rajmael grabbed him by his throat and squeezed it in a vice like grip.
In silent rage, Rajmael dragged the struggling Venatori towards the entrance to Var Bellanaris, crushing his throat every step of the way.
"What are you doing?!" Gordian choked.
"You wanted to get into Var Bellanaris? Let me be the first to welcome you to my ancestors." Rajmael answered coldly.
Gordian's eyes went wide with panic and terror when he realized what the Inquisitor was doing, but was helpless in the angry elf's strong grip. Rajmael effortlessly threw the Venatori agent into the graveyard. The enraged demonic spirits quickly descended upon the screaming mage, tearing his flesh and ripping his limbs. Gordian's screams did not cease until the enraged spirits of the elven dead finally ripped his head off.
Rajmael went over to the dying elf's side and tried to heal him, but he was slipping and both elves knew it. He had lost too much blood, and the wound was to grievous to heal properly.
"Y-you're the Inquisitor. M-my…name is Valorin. I'm from the Dalish Clan to the west." Valorin gasped.
"I know. Your sister Emalien sent me to find you." Rajmael answered.
"I…should have listened to her…But I found it. In the same place I found Lindrinae's amulet…and clues as to where her sword is. Please find it." Valorin begged.
Lindrinae's sword still existed? If that was true it could be a great victory for the Dalish. An important piece of their history that wasn't stolen by human hands. This could not be ignored.
Valorin's life was slipping from him. Painful, bloody coughs racked his body as tears ran from his eyes. "In…Inquisitor, please. Var Bellanaris, these humans desecrated the dead. You…c-cannot leave our hallowed grounds like this. And please…tell my sister I tried. I…tried so…." Valorin's voice trailed off his last breath left his body.
Rajmael closed his fellow Dalish's eyes. Valorin went on a vain quest for personal glory only for it to claim his life. But he chose to die rather than betray their people, and at the core of it all, Valorin still only wanted to prove his worth to his people. And that was something every elf should strive for.
Before Rajmael did anything else, he had to put the spirits of his ancestors back to rest. The Inquisitor approached the threshold of this sacred ground. Ready to perform his duty.
"Everyone. Wait here." Rajmael ordered.
"Wait!" Cassandra called. "Are you sure you know what you're doing? We should go with you."
"Yeah, after seeing what those demons did to that Venatori asshole, I don't think you should be going in there alone." Iron Bull stated.
"I know I'm not going in there!" Sera shouted. "That elfy demon shit's too friggin' out there!"
"I agree. Approaching such creatures in their own dwelling is foolishness." Vivienne concurred.
"I believe our Inquisitor knows what he is doing." Solas informed.
"Maybe we should let the elven experts handle this?" Blackwall suggested.
Cole looked at his fellow spirits with pity on his face. "He knows the words passed down from parent to child. He knows they will suffice."
"I could go with you." Dorian suggested. "I am trained in the ways of the Necromancer after all."
"I don't know the rest of you, but I'm not eager to jump in there with the pissed off elven spirits." Varric stated nervously. "Maybe let our fearless leader tackle this one?"
"How about everyone shuts up and watch?" Rajmael suggested as he crossed the threshold. "Witness the power of elven faith."
Rajmael walked in the midst of the elven burial mounds towards the center of the graveyard. The demons emerged from the shadows of the trees, walls and even the graves to meet this newest trespasser on their ground. The demons gathered around the Arcane Warrior, hissing and whispering in an ancient elven tongue, and clawing at him. But Rajmael continued as though they weren't even there. The Inquisitor planted his sword into the ground and bent on one knee in reverence.
Hahren'en melana sahlin.
Emma ir abelas.
Souver'inan isala hamin.
Vhenan him dor'felas.
In uthenera na revas.
Vir sulahn'nehn
Vir dirthera
Vir samahl la numin
Vir lath sa'vunin
The demons circled around the Inquisitor, and his companions watched in amazement as the spirits' nightmarish appearances melted away to reveal their true form. Beings of made of emerald light and ethereal beauty stood before Rajmael with an aura of peace surrounding them. Rajmael stood before the spirits of his ancestors, and bowed in reverence. And in a moment of utter tranquility, the spirits of the departed disappeared like dust in the wind.
"Falon'din enansal." Rajmael whispered before turning back to his companions.
"That…that was amazing." Dorian applauded.
"Even in my most outlandish books, I couldn't have made that up." Varric laughed. "That's definitely going into my next novel."
"Never in all the time I've been with the Seekers had I ever seen such a thing." Cassandra marveled at a complete loss for words.
"They were angry, their rest was disturbed. But he knew what to say. His words reminded them of peace." Cole smiled.
"His actions do the elves proud." Solas appraised.
Before turning to leave, Rajmael reached into one of his pockets and pulled out several small seeds that bloomed into beautiful blue flowers when he powered his magic into them. He dropped the newly bloomed bouquet on to the ground, then grabbed his dagger and purposely cut his hand with it. He clenched his cut hand into a fist and let his blood fall on to the flowers. With his offering complete, Rajmael bowed and left the sacred graveyard.
~XoXoXo~
His task for his fellow Dalish was complete, but he felt no sense of accomplishment because of the loss of Valorin. Rajmael returned Valorin's body to his clan with a heavy heart. Emalien and the others wept tears of bitter loss of their brother.
"Your brother's life was not in vain, Emalien." Rajmael consoled as he bequeathed Lindrinae's amulet to her.
"Lindrinae's amulet? We thought this was lost along with her sword during the Exalted March." Emalien looked at the amulet with a mix of pride and sorrow. "Thank you for bringing this and my brother back to my clan."
Rajmael went over to Keeper Hawen who sorrowfully thanked him for his service. "Keeper Hawen, Valorin believed he found clues to Evanura's final resting place. Somewhere in the Emerald Graves. I intend to find it for our people."
The Keeper's eyes went wide with surprise. "Such a discovery would mean a great deal to the clans. If you are headed to the Emerald Graves, then please see if you can find Taven and the others. If these Freeman are truly after elven artifacts, then I fear for their safety."
"I will do what I can for our people." Rajmael swore.
The Emerald Graves…
The Emerald Graves was a place of infinite beauty. Trees taller than buildings were everywhere, their canopies blocked the sun and shined emerald light down on everything on the forest floor. There was a tranquility here that none of them had ever experienced before, but some experienced it more pleasantly than others. Sera, for example couldn't stop sneezing, and Dorian was a city-boy through and through.
"Wow. So these are the Dales, huh?" Varric marveled. "Daisy would have loved this place."
"Why? The only thing here is trees, things that want to piss on trees, and things that want to eat people." Dorian complained.
Sera sneezed so loud it echoed through the whole wood. "These trees are stupid! And people who like living with trees are more stupid!"
"It's not that bad." Blackwall stated. "I used to camp in woods like these. I think it's the quiet I like the most. I'd rather be camping instead of killing."
"Forests aren't really my thing. Too many places for enemies to hide. Too many place for arrows to fly by and stick you." Iron Bull muttered.
"It's a decent spot for a vacation retreat I suppose. But still too far from proper civilization for my taste." Vivienne commented.
"Even after everything that has happened, these forests are still beautiful." Cassandra observed in awe.
Rajmael destroyed another statue of Andraste that was erected of the Exalted March, and spat on crumbled gravel that was left behind.
"Must you keep doing that?" Cassandra asked in annoyance.
Rajmael shot an angry glance back at Cassandra. "You're so quick to compliment he beauty of this place, but you're also quick to forget how much blood was spilt on these grounds. Blood that the Chantry spilt."
"The trees remember. They remember when the elves walked free here, and they remember when the elves died here. They miss the elves." Cole said sadly.
Vivienne rubbed the bridge of her nose in annoyance. "My dear, I understand that this place holds bitter memories, but do you really think bringing up old wounds does anyone any good?"
A look of anger twisted on Rajmael's face. "It's the Chantry that drags up the old wounds! Every tree in this forest was planted for every knight, warrior and freedom fighter that died fighting for the Dales' independence. But the Chantry erected these…these…insults in this sacred place! To rub salt in our wounds! I will not tolerate it!" Rajmael drew his sword and stabbed at the air and sent of a projectile of white energy towards another Andrastian statue and blew it to pieces. "And if you think this place in one purely of beauty and serenity, then you're sorely mistaken. Look up there."
Rajmael pointed towards the treetops. Everyone had to squint their eyes to see what he was pointing at, but they found it. Along the topmost branches of the trees were the mummified corpses of men long dead. Their skin was like dried out hides left in the rain and sun for too long and they were strung up by the very vines of the trees that refused to let their victims go.
"My ancestors hung those men from the trees when they marched through here with the intent to enslave us. The honored dead of the Dales rest here, and those trespassers will not taint these hallowed grounds. They will forever no peace, just as my people will never know peace." Rajmael informed bitterly.
"Will you never be able to forgive what happened in the past?" Cassandra asked earnestly.
"When the Chantry makes up for everything it's done to my people, and returned everything it stole from us." Rajmael answered without looking back.
Once again a feeling of guilt stirred inside Cassandra. She had hoped that being here aiding Rajmael in his personal mission to aid his people would being him a little peace in these troubled times. Instead, all he seemed to feel was anger at seeing everything his people had lost. And after seeing so much beauty and wonder that was taken from the elves, Cassandra couldn't help but feel that his anger was justified.
~XoXoXo~
Rajmael looked at the notes that Valorin had compiled in his search for the sword, Evanura, the sword that Lindrinae used in her final stand against the Chantry. The Sword stolen from them by human hands. Most of Valorin's notes and research was taken from clues that he found in the village of Ville Montevelan, the village where that cunt, Reverend Mother Amity, who erected these wretched Chantry statues and led the humans to destroy the Dales all in the name of the Chantry, had ministered after the Exalted March. Amongst the clues, and perhaps the most important one, was a song detailing the final acts of a knight, called "The Knights of Silver and Emerald."
Bright silver were his helm and chain,
Bright silver on his horse's rein;
He rode upon the golden plain,
The brave and comely knight.
The elves stood fast, their banners high.
They would not flee, they would not fly,
Though knowing they would surely die,
The last of Dalish might.
He met them on the golden field,
The fate of elvenkind now sealed,
In mercy, urged them all to yield,
He sorrowed for their plight.
But prideful were the Dalish kin,
Their vengeful hearts could not give in,
With raging cry and dreadful grin,
They struck against the Light.
Beneath the red and fading sun,
The elven stand was swift undone,
'Til they were vanquished, all but one:
Defiant in her fight.
Her brothers on the field lay slain,
He would not see her die in vain,
In grief, cried "Yield!" to her again,
That good and gentle knight.
He could not strike; his shield dropped low,
She lifted sword against her foe,
They did not see the far-off bow,
Its arrow loosed in flight.
A sharpened thorn, a searing brand,
A shot the elf could not withstand;
The sword fell lifeless from her hand,
With drops of crimson bright.
He said no word, he made no sound,
But caught her, falling to the ground.
Her dark hair flowing, all unbound:
A veil as black as night.
And up around him came the call,
That celebrated Dalish fall,
The cry of vic'try came from all,
Except the silver knight.
The glimmer of his helm and chain,
Now dull with dark and bloody stain.
He looked and saw upon the plain,
The dying elven light.
Elf sword in hand, heart filled with woe,
No one would ever see him go,
But with a solemn prayer, spoke low,
He vanished into night.
They say he rode on easterly,
The sword he placed beneath a tree.
And there remained, on bended knee,
That grave and mournful knight
The knight in question must have been Ser Brandis, the knight who challenged Lindrinae, and whose archers dishonorably killed Lindrinae. If the song was to be believed, the Silver Knight was wracked with guilt and took the sword back to the Emerald Knight's grave. Hard to believe. Not only because Rajmael ardently believed Chevalier honor to be non-existent, but because even after the Dales was lost to the elves, they still hid in the forests, and slew any shemlen that tried trespassing amongst the sacred dead. But if any of it was true, then there was only one place the sword could be: The Vallasdahlen.
~XoXoXo~
The Vallasdahlen was on of the most sacred places to both the Dalish and the City Elves. Here, the last of the Emerald Knight, the heroes who refused to back down before the Chantry's tyranny and held one last stand to give the Dalish Clans time to escape. Rather than letting the Chantry desecrate their bodies, the Dalish took them back and buried them here with a vhenadhal tree to watch overlooking their graves. And soon those trees grew tall and mighty, a testament to the strength of spirit that these warriors held. Dinan'hanin was nearby, perhaps Rajmael would find Taven and his party as well.
Rajmael looked upon the mighty trees with mixed sorrow and pride as he cleaned each shrine of the leaves and forest debris that had collected. He stood before Lindrinae's memorial with utmost respect. He searched around the tree in hopes of finding any clue that might tell him where the Evanura sword may be, he would not disturb her grave unless he had good cause to.
Then he found something that had no business being there: a round, flat, polished stone made of volcanic aurum. It was definitely hand-carved and when Rajmael pulled it out of the ground he discovered an ancient but definitely Orlesian styled heraldry on one side, depicting a charging horse over two crossing sword and surrounded by a laurel wreath.
Rajmael dug at the earth that was under the volcanic aurum emblem. He grabbed the dirt in huge chunks, then began clawing when he realized how soft the earth here was. He punched the ground and blew all the earth away and discovered his prize. An ancient metal chest, turned brown after centuries of resting. Rajmael ripped the lock of the chest and tore it open like his life depended on it. And what he found inside brought tears to his eyes.
With shaky hands, Rajmael reached into the chest and revealed the legendary blade Evanura. Even after almost a thousand years of being hidden beneath the earth, it still shined like polished silver. One the ricasso of the blade was stamped the insignia of June, God of the Craft, in whose temple this blade was forged. This sword was created to defend the Dalish Kingdom, and that's exactly what Lindrinae used it for in her last stand against the Chantry. This was the sword for which Rajmael's first love was named, Evanura.
"So it is true." Cassandra stated as Rajmael held the sword to himself. "Ser Brandis was so wracked with guilt over what happened to Lindrinae that he returned to sword to her grave when the war was over."
"Indeed. I don't think anyone is capable of bearing the fact that they were responsible for destroying a whole people." Solas added.
"I thought it would be shinier." Sera commented disinterestedly.
"And here I thought Chevalier honor was just a fairy tale." Rajmael said as he wiped the tears from his eyes and sheathed the sword. "I guess Ser Brandis was the odd one out." Rajmael looked over into the distance, he was not finished here yet. "Dinan'hanin isn't far away. Perhaps we can find Taven, and have him present this to Keeper Hawen."
"After you put in the effort to find this lost treasure, you would so willingly give it away?" Solas asked curiously.
"Indeed. It seems like such a waste to just give it away such a priceless treasure after spending all the effort to find it." Vivienne commented.
"This sword was never mine to possess. It belongs to the People, and it must be returned to the People." Rajmael's answer earned an approving nod from Solas.
~XoXoXo~
Dinan'Hanin was the headquarters and training grounds of the Emerald Knights. After the fall of the Dales, the Dalish sealed the ancient keep off to keep the humans from desecrating it. Here the Emerald Knights kept records of their deeds and history. Perhaps there could be something new, something forgotten. A piece of history untouched by the Chantry's propaganda.
As they approached the ancient fortress, Rajmael saw aravels, elven land-ships, and eagerly ran towards his fellows. But his eagerness was turned into dread when he found, not his fellow Dalish, but a killing field with his brethren strewed across the entrance of Dina'Hanin.
Rajmael saw Taven amongst the bodies and tried to shake him awake. "Taven! Taven!"
"What in Andraste's name happened here?" Blackwall asked as he looked upon the carnage.
Cassandra looked around and was appalled. "Most of these elves were unarmed. They stood no chance."
"What kind of asshole goes through the trouble to kill defenseless elves?" Iron Bull questioned.
"The kind that probably didn't want them in the way." Dorian answered. "Hmm. Strange. Some of these bodies are burnt, but I see no sign of fire anywhere."
Cole held the hand of a slain elven woman. "They came out of nowhere. Fast, powerful, vicious. They had no weapons. Their deaths were quick."
"Well, shit." Was all Varric could say.
"Elves tried to be elfy, and it got them killed. Phht! Typical." Sera scorned.
That thing inside Rajmael suddenly woke up, and screamed at hit to cut Sera's tongue out of her head. But he chose not to listen. He turned towards the Red Jenny thief with a furious look on his face. "Sera! I want you to stay out here, and guard these bodies while the rest of us investigate what happened."
"What? Why me?" Sera questioned.
"I could say that it's because I want you to cover us, but the real truth is, I don't want you polluting these sacred halls with your stink!" Rajmael snarled. "You aren't worthy of being in the presence of the Emerald Knights! And if you say another word, I'll have you kicked out so fast the whiplash will snap your neck!"
Sera gave the Inquisitor a nasty look, but Rajmael's was even nastier. With everyone looking at her like she was being a shit, Sera relented. "Fine." She grumbled in defeat.
~XoXoXo~
Rajmael and his party, minus Sera, entered in Dinan'Hanin, and even after eight centuries of being sealed off, these halls were still magnificent to behold. Proud statues of armored elven knights standing alongside their faithful wolves stood vigil over this keep that was their home.
"Daisy used to tell me about the Emerald Knights." Varric chuckled. "Said they were fearsome men, with pointy swords, and fierce eyes. When I asked her if she knew anything else, she said, 'They also had angry dogs.'"
"These knights look impressive." Cassandra complimented. "I wonder what their training was like."
"The great elven general, Thane Shartan, was Andraste's personal champion." Dorian stated. "I suppose these men had a lot to live up to."
"Such a thing is heresy to speak of, Dorian." Vivienne reminded.
"The Dalish and City Elves remember the Emerald Knights as great heroes, while the Chantry called them ruthless butchers. I suppose both sides have an element of truth." Solas commented.
"This place is filled with their strength. Their desire to protect their homeland and the People. We shall fight to the end, they swore." Cole spoke as he stared at one of the statues as though it were alive.
"Kinda creepy how those statues' eyes follow us as we walk." Bull stated.
They walked into the main hall and what they found there made that thing inside Rajmael, and everyone else, wake up with a vengeance. Red Templars. They walked around with disrespect, tearing down walls as though they were searching for something.
Rajmael's eyes burned with power and silent rage as he held Enasalin in one hand, and Evanura in the other. The only thing these bastards would find in Dinan'hanin would be their own deaths. Rajmael descended down upon the corrupt knights, both swords in hand, and within moments the once silent fortress was filled with horrid screams of the Red Templars, and blood would paint the walls.
A Short Time Later….
The bodies of all the Red Templars laid strewn within every hall they dared to trespass into. The skulls severed from their necks, their bodies cut open with their entrails splattered on the floor, and their limbs ripped from their beings. It had been eight hundred since Evanura had tasted shemlen blood, these Red Templars made an adequate meal.
Rajmael stood within the crypt of Dinan'Hanin where the Emerald Knights of old were laid to rest. And it was here that Rajmael found the truth that Taven had been searching for. The real truth behind the Exalted March on the Dales. And the cause of it all was the most bitter of all reason that can apparently destroy nations: love.
Amidst the growing hostility between the elves and the humans, an Emerald Knight, by the name of Elandrin, had fallen in love with a girl from the town of Red Crossing, and she with him. The other elves, having just lost one of their own to the humans for straying too close to their borders, misconstrued the nature of their relationship as being the result of temptation and viewing Elandrin as a dangerous security threat, and a heinous betrayal to both their people and their gods, sought to bring him back. So one night, a group of elves, led by Elandrin's fellow knight, Siona, proceeded towards the town with the intent to convince Elandrin of this foolishness, or bring him in for betraying them. It was then that one of the Emerald Knights spotted Elandrin's lover running towards them, and the Knight, mistaking her as hostile, slew her with an arrow. The townsfolk heard the girl's cry and advanced on the elves, but were quickly defeated. With that began the full-scale skirmish between the elves and humans.
That was it? That was what brought about the destruction of the Dales and Rajmael's people? An unfortunate love affair that turned into a violent series of unfortunate events led to the sacking of Red Crossing and prompted the Exalted March of the Dales? What a bitter potion truth was. Still, this was an important part of history, and both the humans and the elves were to blame.
"We should give this to the Dalish." Solas suggested. "They will know the true value of this knowledge."
"The Chantry would also be interested in this discovery." Vivienne pointed out. "And they would pay a handsome finder's fee."
"Why?" Rajmael questioned. "At best it would end up as some footnote in their history books, and at worst, it would either be destroyed, or turned into another Chantry lie. It would not be shared and cherished. And unlike the Chantry, the Dalish value the truth. I must return this to my people."
On one side of the crypt were mosaic images of the elven gods, meant to offer prayers when honoring the dead. Rajmael knelt before the image of Dirthamen, his patron god, and held Evanura and the record of Red Crossing before it. "Dirthamen, Keeper of Secrets, Twin Soul of Falon'Din, thank you for granting me fortune of finding these lost pieces of our history. And although this knowledge came to back to the people at great cost, I know what we gained was worth it. I ask thee, Dirthamen, for your continued favor, and grant me the knowledge to find victory over the Elder One."
Rajmael magically grew another blue flower and laid it before the mosaic, then cut his hand and dripped his blood before it.
"Why do you do that?" Cassandra asked apprehensively. The sight of Rajmael cutting himself was distressing to her, especially since he was doing it in prayer.
"All gods demand sacrifice, Cassandra." Rajmael answered calmly. "These flowers, and my own blood, are all I have to offer my gods. Even the Chantry says the Maker demands everything from his followers."
The Exalted Plains
The Inquisitor made his way back to Keeper Hawen's clan, with the two treasures he found, and the bodies of Taven and his party. This was a huge loss for the clan, but a major victory for the elven people. They had lost many brothers and sisters to their quests, but their lives were not in vain. And while Keeper Hawen's heart was broken, he was also proud of both Taven and Valorin.
"Thank you for what you have done for my clan, and our people, Inquisitor." Keeper Hawen spoke. "Reclaiming Evanura, and learning the truth of Red Crossing are both feats I would not have imagined possible."
"As a Dalish, I could do no less." Rajmael answered.
"Your loyalty to our people is incredible, and I am sorry that I ever doubted it." Keeper Hawen continued. "Please, keep the sword, and use it against this Elder One. Loranil has expressed a desire to join your Inquisition, and we would be proud to have him representing our clan in quest."
"And I would be honored to have him amongst our ranks." Rajmael promised. "Dareth'shiral, hahren."
Rajmael and the others decided to make their way back to Skyhold. Rajmael had accomplished a great victory for the Dalish people, but after everything he had seen, all he could feel was bitterness as anger gripped his heart. The Exalted Plains and the Emerald Graves once belonged to his people, and now they were forced live either as vagrants or vagabonds. Everywhere he looked in these lands, he saw proof of the Chantry's lies and abuses. All Rajmael could see was everything that was stolen from his people, and all he could think about was how much better the world would be if the Chantry weren't around anymore.
Back at Skyhold
It didn't take long for Rajmael to wish he was somewhere else right now. Five minutes after walking through the door and he already found Josephine have a fierce argument with a Chantry Mother. Thankfully, neither of them had noticed his return.
"The matter is urgent, Lady Josephine!" The Priestess yelled frantically.
"I am well aware of that, Revered Mother." Josephine said calmly.
"We need them to return Val Royeaux and the White Spire as soon as possible!" The Revered Mother continued. "There are ceremonies, ordinations! Maker's Mercy, the list goes on!"
"I have already told you that his is quite impossible." Josephine maintained. "However, I will see to it that the two of them are informed of this as soon as possible."
Rajmael wasn't in the mood for any Chantry claptrap. Maybe he could sneak around them without them noticing….
"My Lord Inquisitor!" The Revered Mother called.
Fuck! Rajmael thought to himself.
"My Lord Inquisitor, please may I have a word with you?"
"No. Go away." Rajmael answered scornfully.
"I know that you've much to do my lord. Ending the civil war and continuing your fight against the Elder One is not small matter, but this is urgent!"
Rajmael sighed in annoyance, but relented. "You've got five minutes."
"With the political turmoil put to rest, the Chantry Mothers' minds turn to one thing: our next Divine." The Revered Mother explained. "We cannot answer it without the Left and Right hands of Divine Justinia V. There are even those amongst us who believe that they should be forwarded as candidates."
"I have already told you, Revered Mother, that this is impossible." Josephine insisted. "Sister Leliana and Seeker Cassandra cannot be spared from their duties. They are too vital to the function and integrity of the Inquisition."
"But surely with the support of the empire, the Inquisition will not be harmed with the loss of just two souls?" The priestess argued.
"Spoken like a true cunt." Rajmael said vilely. "You vastly underestimate their value to the Inquisition, and now, after you declared them heretics for supporting me, you decide that they're important enough to be involved with your squabbles."
"I realize our actions of late have not represented the Chantry as we should, but you must…."
"You have been told no!" Rajmael cut off. "The Inquisition is not here to solve the Chantry's petty problems. Now, please, do me a favor and leave."
"But my lord!"
"I said fuck off!" Rajmael yelled. The Revered Mother took the hint and grudgingly did as she was told.
"I think you could've handled that a bit more gracefully, Inquisitor." Josephine suggested.
"Josephine, I'm tired, I'm hungry, I just got done with some very trying matters in the Dales, and I still have a world to save. I don't have time to be holding the Chantry's hand through their own bullshit." Rajmael stated agitatedly.
"I understand. But do not worry, we've stopped Corypheus' intrigues and broken his plan to weaken the most powerful empire in Thedas. Your victories against him grow stronger every day." Josephine assured.
~XoXoXo~
Rajmael walked back into the keep, and as much as he hated doing so, thought about what that Revered Mother wanted. The Chantry calling on Leliana and Cassandra? Seeing as how the remaining Grand Clerics and Revered Mothers couldn't get their own shit together without calling down the Maker's Wrath on everything that disagreed with them, it was no wonder that they wanted those two to help them make a decision. Still, Rajmael wanted nothing to do with the Chantry. Especially if they wanted to take Cassandra from him. He already lost one woman he loved to the Chantry, he didn't want to lose another.
Rajmael went to the Rookery to meet with Leliana and get any news from the Orlesian capital that may have happened since the Winter Palace. He found her kneeling before her little shrine to Andraste and Cassandra was standing nearby. And to his displeasure Mother Giselle was talking to them both.
Fuck! Was all Rajmael could think. He had one of two guesses of what they were talking about.
Leliana rose from her prayers "So it's true. The Chantry looks to one of us as Justinia's successor. I never thought this idea would ever gain momentum."
"And so the Chantry decides to bandy our name around without our knowledge or consent." Cassandra stated seriously.
"They must truly be desperate to want you two after declaring you both heretics for declaring the Inquisition." Rajmael said grimly.
"It seems much less flattering when you say it like that." Leliana replied.
"Many will look to you, Inquisitor, for who should succeed the Divine." Mother Giselle informed.
"Trying to guide the Chantry will be like trying to steer a sinking ship." Leliana added. "Having the Inquisition's support will greatly ease with process."
"Only an idiot tries to board a ship that's headed for doom. I'd rather just let that boat sink, and keep paddling." Rajmael replied harshly.
The Inquisitor's response earned a disapproving look from all three women.
"The Chantry did terrible things to your people, I know. I understand why you might hate it." Leliana said sympathetically.
Rajmael grabbed a yardstick and proceeded to poke Leliana with it in a most annoying fashion. "How long do I need to poke you with this until you break my nose, Leliana? Maybe after you knock me on my ass, I'll call over everyone I know and beat the shit out of you. But I'll stop if you promise to give up everything that you value and promise to be my little bitch."
Leliana understood his metaphor very clearly. She grabbed the yard stick in her hand and gave Rajmael a bitter look. "That isn't fair, Rajmael."
"No it isn't! But it's what you did to us!" Rajmael spat angrily. "After everything that it has done to me and my people, you're damned right I hate the fucking Chantry! The Chantry is the greatest enemy of my people!"
"And do you really think the Chantry's dissolution will help your people?" Leliana reasoned. "Without the Chantry to guide the masses, centuries of hatred will spire out of control and lead to nothing but destruction."
"Bullshit!" Rajmael denied. "Without the Chantry, this world can finally progress forward, instead of being held back by the Chantry's superstition and hypocrisy."
"Do you really think the tens of thousands of faithful across Thedas would agree with you?" Cassandra asked seriously. "Yes, the Chantry needs to change. Yes, the Chantry has committed many wrongs, to elves, mages and others, but the people still need the Chantry to guide them towards righteousness."
Rajmael crossed his arms and gave them all an angry glare "Name me one thing the Chantry has done that outstrips the damage it has caused."
"I understand if you've never seen what good the Chantry has done." Mother Giselle finally spoke. "Indeed, I would find it difficult for anyone who has suffered like you have to try and find the good in us, but the Chantry has done many good things to try and help the poor and desperate as best we can. I know that might not seem like much but…."
"Don't take me for a fool, Mother Giselle." Rajmael glowered. "I've done my own research on the Chantry actually is. You provided aid to the poor, hungry and desperate when refugees from the Blight poured into Jader. And when the Chantry didn't give you aid, you used the Jader Chantry's funds to aid the poor. And when the Chantry finally provided relief effort, they wanted you to aid the High Society first, and the Alienage last. But you ignored that directive, and while your actions earned you the admiration of many, the Chantry higher-ups prevented your from attaining a higher position where you could have used your authority to more effect. How can you just ignore such hypocrisy?"
"The Chantry can do so much and be so much, Rajmael." Leliana insisted. "Would you truly let it fade away for what it has done, instead of letting it make up for it's past?"
"After everything I saw in the Dales, how can I not?!" Rajmael answered vehemently. "The Chantry teaches that my people are forsaken heathens, and that everything we are and believe in is evil! My people live in squalor and at the mercy of the nobility because the Chantry put them there! And you know what the one of the worst parts was?"
"What?" Mother Giselle asked apprehensively.
"After you destroyed us, struck Thane Shartan from history, and forced us to be vagrants and vagabonds, you expected us…to thank you! Because your Chantry saved us from our own heathen ignorance! That our destruction was for our own good!" Rajmael was so angry that his eyes were teary. "But you never tell people about the atrocities you committed! All the rapes and murders!"
"What…what are talking about?" Mother Giselle questioned disbelievingly.
"The only reason why the elves of Halamshiral surrendered was because those that defied the Chantry were put to the sword. Women and children were raped by your holy knights, while our priests were burned alive! And after butchering us, forcing us to live like slaves and outcasts, you expected us to thank you. Every abuse my people suffered, every elven father and son murdered, every elven woman raped, was because you allowed it! Because you vilified us!"
A sense of shame came over all three of them, and after what Cassandra saw in the Exalted Marches and the Emerald Graves, she couldn't help but think maybe he was right. But they were still determined.
"Divine Justinia had a dream for the Chantry, Rajmael." Leliana beseeched. "One where it protected people of all races and creeds. Would you let that dream die for the sins of the past?"
"If the Chantry dies, then it just means there's one less thing that can threaten my daughter." Rajmael stated dismally as he walked away.
The three Chantry servants stood stunned. They had grown accustomed to Rajmael's sarcastic nature, but when he spoke with anger, and of suffering, they couldn't help but feel the weight of his words. Rajmael, and elves in general, had always suffered at human hands, and by forcing the elves to live amongst humans and give up their traditions, the Chantry set the standard for all the abuses they suffered.
So maybe Rajmael was right, maybe the Chantry didn't deserve his help, but that didn't mean they were going to give up on it. This was the Chantry's chance to change for the better, and only by having the right Divine to lead could they finally realize Andraste's dream.
"I will speak with him." Cassandra promised. "Perhaps he will hear me out."
~XoXoXo~
Cassandra found Rajmael in his personal quarter standing over the handmade totems of his gods. He was leaning on the desk, weary and tired.
"Rajmael, I know after what you saw, and what happened to Taven and Valorin is hurting you right now." Cassandra spoke softly. "And I know that your own experience with the Chantry was terrible, but do you truly think that allowing the Chantry to fall apart will make the world better?"
Rajmael sighed wearily. "My personal feeling aside Cassandra, I cannot in good conscience endorse an institution devoted solely to a single faith. I have Dalish elves, dwarves of Stone, even Qunari and other religions serving in the Inquisition. If I aid the Chantry, the Inquisition will be seen as just another arm of the Chantry, and I'll be turning my back on all the other faiths that look up to us."
"And that is a valid concern." Cassandra agreed. "And without the Chantry to guide the faithful of Andraste, they will see you as abandoning them as well. The Inquisition is for all."
Sometimes Rajmael really hated it when Cassandra was being logical. "I…will consider it. I can promise no more than that."
"And I promise you this, Rajmael: whoever is made Divine, we will undo the damage that the Chantry has done to the elves. We will no longer ignore the trespasses we've committed against your people." Cassandra swore wholeheartedly.
Rajmael turned towards Cassandra and cupped her face in his hands. "And what about you? If you are named Divine, will I lose you to the Chantry as well, ma vhenan?"
Rajmael's question plucked at Cassandra's heart. All she had ever known her whole life was duty, and never experienced the joys of true love until she met him. And far too often, was love the death of duty. But right now, she couldn't imagine anything without him in her life. "Never. You will never lose me, Rajmael."
Rajmael pulled Cassandra into a loving embrace. And for at least tonight, they tried to forget about the pains of the past and the uncertainty of the future. For right now, all they wanted was to bask in each other's love. Tomorrow's problems can wait.
Language Codex:
Andran atishan: Elven greeting. Translates as, "I dwell in this place", or "A place of peace."
Aneth ara: Elven greeting. Translates as, "My safe place".
Falon'din enansal: Elven blessing. Translates as, "Falon'din's blessings."
Hahren'na melana sahlin.
Emma ir abelas.
Souver'inan isala hamin.
Vhenan him dor'felas.
In uthenera na revas.
Vir sulahn'nehn
Vir dirthera
Vir samahl la numin
Vir lath sa'vunin
Elven Eulogy. Translates as:
Elder your time is come
Now I am filled with sorrow
Weary eyes need resting
Heart has become grey and slow
In waking sleep is freedom
We sing, rejoice
We tell the tales
We laugh and cry
We love one more day
Author's Note:
Once again, in case it needs to be said, I own and claim nothing. Dragon Age and all things associated with it is the property of the BioWare Gaming Company. Please stay tuned, and continue to read review and enjoy. Rajmael's suffering is only just starting.