Rajmael of Clan Lavellan

by Powerslammer

Rajmael is an elf possessed of great pride and an incredible power. Born with a powerful name and a greater destiny, he has lived his whole life by the the Vir Tanadhal. And now he must use his ancient knowledge to stand against forces that threaten his world and everything he loves. Watch as he stands as a Dalish Elf, a Herald and as The Inquisitor. Please, please review.

26. Some More Personal Issues

Some More Personal Issues

It had been less than a week since the tragedy at Adamant Fortress, and as to be expected, the Wardens were treated with distrust and anger. This was understandable. Many of the Inquisition soldiers witnessed one of the most honored, most legendary Order of men and women slit the throats of their own brothers and sisters in an insane attempt to summon an army of demons. Needless to say, this would be a severe blemish on the Order of The Grey's reputation for years to come. Many of the surviving Wardens were more than happy to renew their purpose and seek redemption in the ranks of the Inquisition. Perhaps here this ancient Order of warriors could reconnect with the world they tried so desperately to save, instead of cutting themselves off from it and rediscover why they fight instead of how they should fight.

Rajmael noticed how withdrawn Blackwall had made himself ever since their last conversation about Clarel and the Order. He even stopped working on his rocking-griffon. The Inquisitor thought it would be best to find out what was eating at their residential Warden. Rajmael found Blackwall at his usual spot in the barn that housed the Inquisition's mounts. Rajmael's halla, Neirin, was sleeping softly while Blackwall just stood in front of a small fire, staring at it as though her were pondering some great truth. Rajmael wasn't sure he wanted to interrupt the Warden Recruiter's train of thought.

"You want a drink?" Blackwall asked. "I've a hankering for company."

"Good. 'Cause I've got a hankering for some Coastland Whiskey."

The Inquisitor and Warden both made their way over to the Tavern and sat at the bar with their drinks with Mayden singing her latest song, which, incidentally, was called "Oh, Grey Warden". Rajmael didn't know if the bard was trying to be inspirational or cruel. Rajmael took small sips of his whiskey and tried to savor its taste hoping the buzz would shake off the air of foreboding shadowing them while Blackwall just stared blankly at his ale. It was like he had just suffered some huge personal loss and was trying to find comfort in his drink, but was too scared to dive into it.

"When I was a boy, there were these urchins who used to roam the street near my father's house." Blackwall started off, finally breaking the awkward silence. "One day they found a dog, a wretched little thing. It came up to them for food. They caught it, tied a rope around its neck, then they strung it up. Do you know what I did?"

That caught Rajmael so off guard he almost choked down his whiskey. Just how much did Blackwall drink to suddenly tell such a dark story right out of the blue? "You...cut it down? Kicked the snot out of those little pricks and saved the dog?"

"I did...nothing. Not a damned thing." Blackwall confessed bitterly. "It was crying, I could see its neck straining, the legs kicking while it whimpered for help. And I stood by and let it happen."

"You were only a child. You couldn't have been the only one who saw that happening. No one else stepped in to stop them." Rajmael reasoned.

"That doesn't make what I did any less wrong. I may as well have tied the noose myself." Blackwall gritted through his teeth as though the mere thought of it hurt him. "I could have told my father, shouted to someone in the street, or ran over there and beat the snot out of them like they deserved. Instead, I just closed my eyes and pretended it wasn't happening. We could make the world better. It's just always easier to shut our eyes when things get dark."

"When I first met you in the Hinterlands, you were defending farmers and refugees from bandits when you didn't owe them a damned thing." Rajmael reminded objectively. "Then you joined the Inquisition of your own free will and stood by me even as the world fell apart. You're not a man to close your eyes when things get dark. You need to work on you start drinking at the tavern, but other then that..."

Blackwall couldn't help but chuckle dourly at that. "Of course you'd make light of it. Men like you, The Champion, and The Hero of Ferelden, make saving the world look easy. I know for a fact that none of you would have turned your backs. But this isn't just about what happened then. There's always some dog out there, some fucking mongrel that doesn't know how to stay away, and some pricks who want to string it up." Blackwall finally grabbed his mug and quaffed his ale down in several large gulps then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Ehhh. I'm sorry, Inquisitor. I must be getting old. Telling you my sob stories before I'm evn drunk. I'll...I'll see you in the morning."

Rajmael watched as the Warden-Constable somberly made his way out of the tavern and back to the barn. What in Mythal's name just happened? After all the battlefields this man had seen, all the horrors of war and mysticism he had faced, why was this childhood memory suddenly causing him such distress? Rajmael finished his whiskey and made his way out. Perhaps he would get some answers tomorrow when they were both sober.

The Next Day...

After a good night's sleep, Rajmael was able to sleep off the whiskey he imbibed last night. After overseeing several missions at the War Table, he decided to pay Blackwall a visit to see if he was doing any better. Maybe he just in a mournful mood because of the events at Adamant. But when he got there, it was completely empty except for Blackwalls little workshop and the smell of horses. Rajmael noticed a note on the incomplete rocking toy Blackwall had been working on. It read:

Inquisitor,

You've been a friend and inspiration to me, and I thank you for allowing me to join with you. You've given me the wisdom to know right from wrong, and more importantly, how to stand up for what is truly right.

It's been my life's honor to serve with you.

What was this? A resignation? Rajmael looked to the stables and saw that Blackwall's horse was gone, so was all his gear and equipment. Where did he go? No, something must have been wrong. Blackwall was not the kind of man who would just turn his back without completing what he set out to do. Rajmael had to find out what.

The Inquisitor got word to Leliana and a little while later, one of her agents came back to him.

"The Spymaster has confirmed it: Warden Blackwall is gone."

"Yes, I can see that. But where has he gone of to. Leliana must know something." Rajmael insisted impatiently.

"Sister Leliana had us search his quarters. Not much to find, except this. It was missing from last weeks reports. We've no idea what Warden Blackwall's interest in this particular matter is, but it could be a good place to start."

The agent handed Rajmael a wrinkled piece of paper that had been crumpled into a ball then unfolded again. It was certainly one of Leliana's reports. How could it go missing?

Lieutenant Cyril Mornay, one of the soldiers responsible for the Callier Massacre of 9:37, was captured in Lydes. Like the others who were arrested for their involvement, Mornay insists that he had no knowledge of who he was assassinating, and that he was following the orders of his captain. This Captain Thom Ranier is still at large. Mornay is to be executed within the week in Val Royeaux.

Why did Blackwall have this report? What did it have to do with him? Wardens are not involved with political struggles unless it pertained to the Blight. If this Cyril Mornay meant something to Blackwall, then Val Royeaux was the best place to get answers. Maybe they could get there before this man was hanged.

Late In Val Royeaux...

The Orlesian skies were grey and rain lightly fell from the clouds, giving the usually vibrant city an air of gloom. People of all social classes, nobles and commoners alike, were tightly packed in the Imperial Square, and crowded around the gallows as if it were some kind of circus performance. As someone who was once on the receiving end of a gallows and condemned with face humans justice, Rajmael found it sickening to see how many people had gathered around to watch this man get his neck stretched.

Rajmael saw the man who was to be condemned. He was an older man who certainly seemed like a man who had seen battle, face was riddled with scars. He looked weary, beaten, and doomed. The shackles locked around his wrists and ankles dug painfully into his skin, insuring that he could not escape. The bailiff and the executioner, both in their Orlesian masks that signified their professions, looked upon the prison with disgust.

The bailiff held out a scroll and read the chargers, loud enough so that the jeering crowd could hear why this man deserved to die. "Cryil Mornay, for your crimes against the Empire of Orlais, for the murders of General Vincent Callier, his wife, Lady Lorette Callier, the four children, and their retainers, you have been sentenced to hang from the neck until dead. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

Mornay said nothing.

"Very well. The Revered Mother will recite your Last Rites."

"Well, this is...grim." Varrc sighed.

"Hmph. Human justice at work." Solas scoffed.

"Look at all the people that have gathered." Vivienne observed dismally. "I thought we were more civilized than this."

"Poor bastard." Sera said disinterestedly. "So! Where's food? Orlesians always stock these things." Vivienne groaned in disgust, but she was nearly as disgusted as Rajmael was when he saw that Sera was right. There were actually vendors here selling cakes, hot wine, and kebabs like this was some kind of tourney event drawn out to entertain the crowd.

Dorian finally asked the important question. "Who is this man to Blackwall? A friend? A brother?"

"Perhaps he wishes to recruit him for the Order?" Cassandra said with no more knowledge than the rest of them.

"Proceed!" The guard ordered. The Revered Mother finished giving the condemned his Last Rites, and the executioner fastened the noose tightly around Mornay's neck. His time had come.

"Stop this!" Cried the familiar voice of Warden Blackwall as he walked onto the gallows and halted the lynching.

"A Grey Warden." The bailiff sneered in contempt. The gathered crowed groaned in disappointment at having their grisly entertainment interrupted.

"This man is innocent of the crime." Blackwall declared. "The only thing he is guilty of is following orders, like any good soldier."

"Then bring me the man who gave the orders." The bailiff demanded.

"This doesn't look good, Boss." Iron Bull whispered.

"BLACKWALL!" Rajmael shouted over the crowd and rain.

"No. I'm not Blackwall. I never was Blackwall." The Warden denounced. "Warden Gordon Blackwall is dead, and has been for years. I assumed his name and his rank to hide, like a coward, from who I really am."

"It...it's you? After all these years!?" Mornay's face was painted with realization and betrayal.

"It's over. I'm done hiding." The imposter admitted with guilt in his eyes. "I gave the order. The crime is mine. I...am Thom Ranier."

This revelation left Rajmael, everyone in his company, at a loss for words, and completely stunned as the Orlesian guards clapped the false Warden in chains and hauled him away. This couldn't be true. Blackwall was one of the most honorable men he had ever met, perhaps one of the very few shemlen knights he had ever met that truly knew what honor was. Yet, the man just confessed to it, in front of him and a crowd full of people ready to watch another man swing from the end of a rope. Rajmael needed to find out what the truth was, and judging from the angry vein in Cassandra's forehead, she wanted some answers, too.

The Inquisitor asked the bailiff where they took the prisoner and was directed to the Val Royeaux prison cells. Like all shemlen prisons, it was dark, dank and reeked of mildew, refuse, and despair. Rajmael found Blackwall sitting in his own cell, crestfallen and overcome with shame. His eyes were hollow and his powerful shoulders slumped like a weak old man's. This was not the same man that Rajmael saw fighting demons at Adamant, or defending peasant in the Hinterlands. This was someone he knew nothing of.

"I didn't take Blackwall's life. I just traded his death." Thom Ranier confessed, staring at the stone floor of his cell. He couldn't bring himself to look at the Inquisitor in the eye. "He wanted me for the Wardens. But when I was gathering darkspawn blood for the Joining, there was an ambush. Hurlocks. He...took a blow for me, instead of letting me die like I deserved. And so I took his name to stop the world from losing a good man. But the man he was would never have let another die in his place. Let someone else suffer from his mistakes."

Rajmael looked down at his former comrade with intensity in his gaze. "Was what the guard, everyone in the courtyard, said true? Did you really kill all those people?"

"Yes, I did. It's all fucking true. It's time we all got a look at what I truly am." Ranier slammed himself against the bars in despair and self-loathing. "Don't you understand?! I gave the order to kill General Callier, his entourage, his whole fucking family! And when it came to light, I ran! Those men, my men paid for my treason, while I was off pretending to be a better man. This is what I am: A traitor, a murderer. No fucking different than the Templars or Chevaliers you despise. You'd be better off without my shame dragging you down."

Rajmael was beyond angry with this betrayal, but he wasn't fully convinced. "When we first met, you were defending peasants and refugees from bandits and demons. Then you joined me and stuck by me, even after Corypheus destroyed Haven and the whole world was crashing down around us. That man, and the man who committed that crime cannot be the same."

"If only saying that could make it true." Ranier lamented.

"If it was so terrible, then why? Why would you commit such a crime?"

"For gold." The prisoner answered bitterly. "The main reason behind most terrible acts. I was approached by some Chevalier, Robert Chapuis, who thought Gaspard was the rightful emperor. He thought that by killing one of Celene's best generals would endear himself to the would-be emperor. But I didn't give two nug-shits. The money was good, and I took it. So I set up an ambush to kill Vincent Callier when he was traveling to the capital."

"He paid you to wipe out a whole family?" Rajmael asked disbelievingly.

"I didn't know he was traveling with his wife and children, but it didn't really matter to me at the time. I told my men that were serving the empire, but I left out the part where I was paid a mountain of gold to commit treason. I gave the order to attack, but when we discovered that his carriage was full of children all clinging to their mother, they all realized what we had done. My men were loyal to me, and I betrayed that trust and made them kill a whole family. All for gold. When our crime came to light, we all ran, and Robert Chapuis drank some poison in his wine while he toasted Gaspard. Then I took Gordon Blackwall's identity so that I could hide from my crimes. That's why I deserve to be here, and not fighting at your side."

Rajmael couldn't believe this. How much of a fool could he be? He was supposed to be a follower of Dirthamen, yet he let himself be deceived so thoroughly. This was why this man refused to talk about the Order, or only gave half answers about the life of a Warden. Not because he didn't want to talk about it, but because he knew nothing of it. Rajmael knew better than most what it was like to have his life stolen from men in fancy armor, and using it to take and do what they wanted as though their swords and banners gave them the right to do so.

Rajmael stormed out of the cell block, frustrated, angry and still in shock over this whole ordeal. He was surprised to see Cullen waiting for him.

"I have Leliana's report on Thom Ranier." Cullen informed with the report in his hand. "It would seem our friend was once a respected captain in the Imperial Army, after winning the Grand Melee in Tantervale, and led a group of fiercely loyal men."

"Too bad she couldn't have given me this report before this whole fiasco started." Rajmael said angrily. There was nothing in that report that could tell him anything he didn't know now.

"None of us saw this coming, Inquisitor. Even Leliana has a bit of a blind spot when it comes to Wardens." Cullen reasoned. "Black...Rainier fate has been decided, and he seems to have accepted it. But that doesn't mean you have to. We have...resources."

"Are you asking me to spring him loose, Commander Cullen? Even after learning of his crimes?"

"Not quite. You could have him brought to Skyhold to be brought before your judgment." Cullen answered.

"And as one of my councilors, what is your opinion on this matter?"

A sour, resentful look gripped Cullen's face. "What he did disgusts me. The worst thing an officer can do is use then discard his men. He betrayed their trust, betrayed ours. But he lived his life as a Warden, joined the Inquisition, and risked his life to fight with you. Then when Mornay was arrested, he turned himself in, despite the consequences. Why?"

"Because a leaders job is to look after his comrades, even when they've made a terrible mistake, and especially when they're in trouble." Rajmael answered. He knew what he had to do. "I want Ranier released into my custody. Have Josephine call in a favor with the empress' court. After saving her throne from Florianne, I think she owes us more than one."

"At once, Inquisitor."

Back at Skyhold...

Once again, Rajmael found himself seated on the Throne of The Inquisition, ready to pass judgment on the soul sorry enough to stand before him. Rajmael felt more uncomfortable than usual sitting in this damned chair, and it wasn't just because it needed a new cushion. Now he must stand in judgment over a man he thought he knew, guilty of crimes Rajmael hated.

Josephine approached the throne, clipboard and quill in hand. She read the charges with sadness in her gaze and her voice.

"Before you stands Black...I'm sorry. Captain Thom Ranier, formerly known to us as Warden Blackwall. His crimes...well, you are already aware of what his crimes are. Empress Celen has allowed you custody over him, despite the calls for his execution. The decision of what to do with him is yours."

The Inquisition guards forcefully hauled the chained prisoner in front of The Inquisitor. Rajmael knew for a fact that Ranier could throttle both those men, even chained as he was. But he did nothing; Ranier wanted to be punished. All he could do now was stand silently and wait for the Inquisitor's word.

"I have to admit, I never thought I'd have you standing before me like this. The reality of it more difficult than I realized." Rajmael admitted.

"Just another thing to regret." Ranier gritted through his teeth. "What kind of strings did you have to pull to get me off the noose?"

"The Imperial kind."

"And you think this'll be the end of it? The whole world will learn how you've abused your power, how you used your authority to deny justice. They'll all forget the good you've done when this is all over." Blackwall lamented. "You're a criminal, same as me."

"Don't compare what I did to what you've done, Ranier. Don't even go there." Rajmael warned dangerously. "What's done is done. There's nothing anyone can do about that now."

"I accepted my punishment. I was ready for this all to be over!" Ranier argued. "Why would you interfere?"

"Maybe because I believe there's more to justice than being on the receiving end of noose in front of a crowd of jeering assholes." Rajmael answered honestly.

"Then what is to become of me?"

"Ranier, as Warden Blackwall, despite everything that's happened and all the horrors pitted against this Inquisition, you stood at my side and gave your life to this Inquisition and every victory we've had. Now...I give that life back to you, for everything that you did as Warden Blackwall."

Ranier stood dumbfounded. He could scarcely believe this was happening. Even Rajmael's other companions couldn't believe this was happening.

"What? It...can't be as simple as that."

"It isn't." Rajmael confirmed. "Ranier, the blood on your hands cannot be washed away by living a lie. Dishonor cannot be removed with more dishonor. You're free, only if you atone as the man you are, not the traitor you made yourself into, or the Warden you pretended be."

"The man I was? I barely remember him anymore. He...I have so much to make up for." Ranier took a breath, tried to take in what he was being handed. "If...my life is truly my own, then I pledge it to the Inquisition. Everything I am is at your disposal." The guards unclasped Ranier's shackles. "Tell me, if I had said anything less, would an arrow from the rookery have snuffed me like a candle?"

"No. I already talked to Leliana about that." Rajmael assured. "Now take your post, Blackwall."

Rajmael could feel the disapproving looks from Solas, Vivienne and Cassandra. But Rajmael didn't really care. Blackwall could have chosen not to join them, and his lie would have continue with no one the wiser. He could have let Mornay be executed, and no one would ever suspect him. But he chose to fight alongside Rajmael, despite being a heathen elf. He chose to save Mornay and accept the consequences of his actions. That was the kind of man they needed in this Inquisition, the kind of character this Inquisition needs to inspire. Honor is never an easy thing to live with, and it's even harder to get back after it's been given up. But it was possible. What most did not understand was that this world needed more compassion, even if it's undeserved, more than harsh justice.

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael once again found himself in the streets of Val Royeaux. The recent rains had stopped and the sun was shining down on the vibrant city. He had returned to this city by the personal request of his Lady Ambassador. Josephine kept herself quiet, but Rajmael could sense the worry emanating from her. She was so high strung right now, she could have a stroke just walking to their destination. When calm, collected, and ever composed Josephine Cherett Montilyet, who kept her cool when Haven was attacked, during the events at the Winter Palace, and having Leliana as a best friend, was worried, Rajmael knew there was something seriously wrong in the world.

Earlier that day, Josephine had informed him of her family's dire straights. How her family's trading exile had all but destroyed her family's finances, how they've sold almost all their land to keep the creditors from calling in all their debts. As the Heir Apparent of House Montilyet, Josephine was determined to rebuild what her family had lost, and ensure that her family would never know hardship the way her ancestors had for the past century. Being an adopted parent, Rajmael completely understood her desperation.

Recently, Josephine had made arrangements with the Orlesian Comte to officially allow the Montilyets back in Orlais as landed tradesmen. This achievement would be the first step in rebuilding everything her family had lost, and could even help them rebuild their fleet. However, the couriers carrying those official documents had been murdered by some unknown party, and the documents destroyed, and the hopes of her family's future with them.

Thanks to Leliana's resourcefulness, Josephine had received word from a certain Comte Boisvert, a nobleman here in Val Royeaux, had information on who the killers were. Apparently, the Count wanted to publically meet with both the Lady Ambassador and the Inquisitor so as to increase his standing with the Orlesian nobility, and in exchange he would give them the information they needed.

What Rajmael didn't understand was why would anyone want to interfere with the fortunes of a family of traders? It made no sense, there was nothing to gain. Unless there was someone with a grudge, willing to risk the response of the Inquisition. If so, then Josephine's life might be in danger. But who could possibly have that much hatred for the Montilyets?

Being an adopted parent, Rajmael completely understood Josephine's desperation. She wanted to secure her family's future and regain the prestige and luster their name once possessed, just as Rajmael wanted to make sure Eva would never know the same hardships and terrors he had faced his whole life. That was why they had agreed to meet this Comte Boisvert at this café and indulge his petty need to impress his peers.

They found the nobleman sitting at a private table on the upper floor of the café. Apparently he rented the entire floor to meet with the Inquisitor and Ambassador Montilyet, and the rest of his companions were forced to wait outside the door.

"My friends. Come, sit." The Comte invited as a waiter poured him a glass of red wine. The Orlesian aristocrat was wearing vibrant but practical Orlesian styled clothing. The gilded mask he wore made it impossible for Rajmael to make out what he looked like. The only part of his face that wasn't covered was his mouth, so he could drink his wine. Rajmael didn't know why, but for some reason he felt uneasy. Like they were being watched by someone.

Josephine graciously accepted the invitation. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Comte Boisvert."

"The honor is all mine, Madame Montilyet." The Comte assured. "It is my pleasure to assist such distinguished guests."

"While your assistance is welcome, Comte, you must realize already that you might be placing yourself in danger by assisting us." Rajmael notified seriously.

Boisvert took a savoring sip from his wine glass. "I'm afraid the danger is more severe than you realize, Inquisitor. Have you ever heard of the House of Repose?"

Josephine's face went aghast "The assassin's guild? What do they have to do with this?"

"My contacts have obtained a copy of a document in their archives. A contract for a life." Boisvert produced the copy and slid over to Josephine. Then resumed sipping his wine.

Josephine's eyes worriedly, but sharply, scanned the document. ""The House of Repose is hereby sworn to eliminate and all persons attempting to overturn the Montilyet's trading exile in Orlais." Josephine lifted her eyes from the contract completely stunned, but her composure was unmoved.

Rajmael was surprised at how calm Josephine was at learning there was a hit on her. "You don't look very shocked to know that there's a price on your head, Josephine."

"I knew trying to remove my family's exile would attract unwanted attention, but I never imagined it would be something like this." Josephine confessed.

"The contract was signed by a noble family. The Du Paraquettes." Boisvert answered.

"But the Du Paraquettes died out as a noble line over sixty years ago!" Josephine argued.

"Indeed. But the contract was signed one hundred and nine years ago."

"Wait a minute, please. How can a deceased family be trying to kill her now?" Rajmael interjected.

"The Du Paraquettes were my family's rivals. They were the ones who drove the Montilyets into exile." Josephine answered. "The contract was drawn up over a century ago, but it wasn't invoked until after I tried to overturn my family's exile."

"Unpleasant though it may be, the House of Repose is merely fulfilling its contractual duty." Comte Boisvert informed.

"But that contract is obsolete! There is nothing for the House of Repose, and especially not the dead Du Parakeets, have to gain from this." Rajmael argued.

"A contract is a contract, Inquisitor!" Josephine stated firmly. "Orlesian guilds and societies live and die by their word. Any guild's reputation could be tarnished beyond repair for tossing aside the word of a bargain simply because of the whims of time and fate."

"I'm afraid she is quite right, Inquisitor." Boisvert agreed. "The House of Repose is simply doing what it feels is necessary. By its standards."

Rajmael sighed a breath of irritation. "You've always got a plan on how to deal with difficult bureaucracy, Josephine. Any thoughts?"

"The Du Paraquettes died out as a noble line, but they still exist under the Common Branch. If we can elevate them to nobility, I'm sure I can persuade them to rescind the contract on my life."

"That will take time, Lady Josephine." Comte Boisvert reminded. "In which the House of Repose will be obligated to hunt you down."

"Will they now?" The worry and shock on Josephine's face was replaced with accusation. "You seem to be intimately well informed about the workings of an assassins guild, Comte. Your message stated that you had rumors, at best."

"A bit of subterfuge on my part. The contract on your life is an ugly business. One that the House of Repose deeply regrets." The imposter admitted. Now Rajmael knew why he felt so uneasy earlier. "But this is Orlais, and even an assassin's word is his bond."

"Yeah? Well, the House of Repose has got some pretty big balls sending a hired killer to meet with us." Rajmael's hand slowly glided to his sword under the table.

"Hardly anyone in the guild is equipped to deal with this situation, Inquisitor. Given the unusual nature of the contract for Lady Montilyet's life is so unusual, we felt the courtesy of an explanation was in order."

"It...is appreciated, monsieur." Josephine thanked courteously, albeit, forlornly.

"Your plan to elevate the Du Parraquettes to nobility to revoke our orders is an interesting one. I wish the best of luck." The fake Comte rose from his seat to leave, but found the edge of Enasalin at his neck before he could take one step from the table. "I did not come to shed blood today, Inquisitor. Only to speak. Might I pass?"

"You honestly think you can have a contract for my advisor's life and that I'll just let you walk away? That is beyond stupid."

"I'm not half as stupid as you might think." The assassin assured. "Did you really think I would meet with the Inquisitor and not have a back up plan ready?"

Rajmael's grin widened sinisterly and his ears twitched. "You really think those assassins you've got hiding in the rafters are enough to stop me? I can kill all five of you before you can even touch us."

"Inquisitor, please!" Josephine beseeched. "This man has already shown us more courtesy and respect than he needed to by giving us this warning. He is merely upholding his guild's word and reputation. Blood is not always an answer."

"A would-be victim pleading for the life of her would-be killer? I don't know if that's poetic or just sad." Rajmael snorted and sheathed his sword. "You'd better thank your target, assassin. If not for her compassion, you and your men's heads would be my new paper weights."

"Thank you most sincerely, Lady Montilyet. I admire your professionalism. I truly hope we never meet again." the assassin gave a gracious bow and made his way out of the room. Rajmael and Josephine watched him leave just to be sure he was gone, the Inquisitor could hear his cohorts climbing through their exits on the roof.

"Well, I certainly didn't foresee our meeting ending like this." Josephine sighed.

"We're going to have to deal with these assassins." Rajmael insisted.

"I have some thoughts. Let us discuss them back at Skyhold."

Back at Skyhold...

Rajmael and Josephine were back in her office. If she was going to go through with her plan, she needed to start now. The House of Repose was not going to give them any more courtesy calls.

"Inquisitor, I am so sorry." Josephine apologized from her desk. "I never realized that trying to overturn my family's exile would trap us in an assassin's plot."

"Yeah, well, I never imagined going to the Conclave would trap me into leading an Inquisition. Nothing is ever as simple as we wish it could be." Rajmael sighed sarcastically.

"I've tracked down the last Du Paraquettes. If they become gentry, they can annul the contract on my life." Josephine informed. "We'll require a noble from Val Royeaux to sponsor them, a judge to provide documents, and a minister to ratify them..."

"It's so like you to take the longest course of action, even when your life is at stake." Leliana waltzed in the room from the shadows, chuckling as though she heard an entertaining joke.

"I assume you already know everything about this mess." Josephine groaned.

"I'd be a poor spymaster and even worse friend if I didn't." Leliana assured. "There is a faster way, Josephine: the original contract for you life is in the vault in the House of Repose' archives. I can dispatch my agents to find and destroy the original, then the House of Repose will have no true obligation against you."

"Leliana, please. I want no more bloodshed over this personal affair." Josephine pleaded with her friend.

"Don't be stubborn, Josie! How long will it take for you to gather these favors in Val Royeaux?" Leliana argued.

Rajmael got between both his female advisors. "Girls, girls, please! You're both pretty, but seeing as this is Josephine's issue, and she's the one who started this whole mess, she should get to decide how we solve this problem."

"Thank you, Inquisitor. I think?"

"Regardless of what you do, I will assign more guards to watch you, Josephine." Leliana promised. "And my offer does stand in case you change your mind."

"I appreciate it, Leliana, but I do believe my plan will work. I just need to curry the right favors."

Some Time Later

Leliana wasn't kidding when she said that this was the long way around an already difficult problem. First Josephine needed someone to sponsor the remaining Du Parraquettes to nobility. Not an easy task considering how uptight and stingy Orlesian nobles were when it came to the class divide between them and the peasantry. Thankfully, Comtess Dionne was willing to sponsor the would-be nobles if the Inquisition found out what happened to her lover, a mage named Ellerly, who went missing in the heat of the Mage-Templar war.

How hard could finding one mage lost in the turbulent chaos of the Mage-Templar war be? Like anyone had to ask.

Thankfully, the Comtess' relationship with her mage lover was hardly a secret, and the Orlesians love their gossip. That made it easy for Leliana's agents to find Ellerly, who was found injured, but alive in a Ferelden Inn after the explosion of the Conclave. With her lover found alive and well thanks to their efforts, Comtess Dionne gladly agreed to give the Du Paraquettes her sponsorship.

Next they needed to get a judge to officially sign the documents formally requesting the Du Paraquettes rise to nobility. Rajmael actually thought this task would be easier, considering that the judge in question was Judge Auld, a renowned big game hunter famous for tracking down dangerous prey. Judge Auld was about to mount a hunting party and he wanted members of the Inquisition's guard to accompany him on his latest hunt after some rare breed of giant spider. Instead, he got something better: The Inquisitor himself, and The Iron Bull and his Chargers.

It shouldn't have been a surprise that this little hunt was not as easy as Rajmael had hoped. Turns out the rare giant spider that Judge Auld wanted to hunt was actually a Vartarell, the king of spiders created by the elven gods, and something Rajmael was actually scared of. After spending half the day running from it, and the other half fighting it, Rajmael and the Bull's Charger's were finally able to kill the damned thing. Judge Auld laughed and laughed, and said he would be insane not to do this favor for the Inquisition after such an entertaining hunt. Considering that the Vartarell almost killed the judge, Rajmael was surprised how well this turned out.

They now had two of the several things necessary to elevate the Du Parraquettes and get the House of Repose of Josephine's back. Rajmael needed to find out their next move. Hopefully this would be behind them both soon.

A shrill scream and the sound of a blade plunging into flesh came from Josephine's office. Rajmael rushed in there with his sword drawn. He found an Inquisition guard standing over the body of a slain servant with a dagger in her hand. Josephine was standing in front of the body, shocked, stunned, but otherwise unharmed.

"What happened here?!"

"Inquisitor! It seems that the House of Repose decided to pay us a visit." Josephine answered, still in shock. "The guard arrived in time, but I should have guessed that they would infiltrate the servants."

"They're clearly professionals. Not many are capable of slipping past Leliana." Rajmael observed as he looked at the body. "Are you unharmed, Josephine?"

"Yes. Leliana had her people shadowing me. I was only frightened, thanks to this guard's swift response. I owe my life, Sergeant."

"Just doing my job, ma'am." The guard dutifully responded. "I'll talk to the Spymaster about these murderous louts. She'll find out how they got in."

"We cannot delay this any longer, Josephine. These assassins aren't going to conveniently wait while you play around with beauracracy with your life at stake!"

"I know that, Inquisitor, but we are so close." Josephine insisted. "All we need to do know is get one of the members of the Council of Heralds to officially ratify the Du Parraquettes as part of the Orlesian nobility. They are in charge of matters of rank in the Orlesian aristocracy."

"Knowing how pompous the Orlesian nobles are, I doubt they're just going to willingly accept a house of peasants into their ranks."

"Normally, you'd be correct, but one of the members of the Council of Heralds may be...amenable." There was a hint of uncertainty in Josephine's voice. "Minister Bellise is willingly to speak with you, but only in person. She will be attending a party at the manor of the Marquis Wiscotte. I'll get you an invitation."

"Josephine, this would all be so much easier if we just used Leliana's plan and retaliate against the House of Repose." Rajmael insisted adamantly. "And after what they just pulled her, I don't think that it's such a bad idea."

"No! Please, Inquisitor. I do not want to be responsible for any more bloodshed. We are so close to elevating the Du Paraquettes, you just need to meet with Minster Bellise. Please. I don't want anyone dying on my behalf, assassins or no."

Josephine's pleas for clemency for these assassins confounded Rajmael. But this was her operation, and he would respect her wishes. "Very well, Ambassador. I will go meet with this Minister Bellise.

Later at the Marquis Wiscotte's Chateau...

Rajmael detested Orlesian parties. Always so overly extravagant and fanciful. A gathering of peacocks strutting around to show off their feathers. But even he could tell this party was so boring that he was surprised no one fell asleep on their feet. The only time the crowd seemed truly excited was when Madam De Fer walked into the room, and that just didn't feel right to Rajmael. Maybe Sera and Varric could liven things up a bit. He sent Sera to spike the punch bowl and had Varric to talk up the nobility.

While Sera and Varric caused their little bit of mischief, Rajmael was able to steal a moment with Minister Bellise with Iron Bull, Cole and Blackwall accompanying him. The Minister wore a white summer dress and hate, and her porcelain mask completely hid her face. Rajmael was surprised she could even breathe under that thing.

He noticed her eyes, though. He noticed that they were staring right at Iron Bull. Interesting.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Minister Bellise."

"Inquisitor. I'd chastise you for taking me from the soiree, but the Marquis throws such dull affairs, it's hardly worth it." The Minister stated with a voice as old and as harsh as an oak branch. "I assume you wish to discuss elevating these Du Paraquettes to a minor lordship. Tell me, why should I let you pollute the Orlesian nobility anymore than it as already been muddied?"

Somehow Rajmael was not surprised. "I take it you are not fond of Orlais' present day nobility?"

"I am not." The Minsiter stated avidly. "It has become a mongrel mix of merchants and tradesman usurping the rightful place of Orlais' true nobility. So many nobles died try to keep Ferelden from falling back into the hands of those dog-lords, and now they give out titles as if they were treats. Really, it causes me too much pain to speak of! What could you possibly give me that would make this insult worth my effort? And do not attempt to charm me, I am far too old for it."

This woman must have been from the Blessed Age judging from how she viewed the world.

Rajmael rolled his eyes in annoyance. The only decrepit old biddy allowed to talk down at him was Keep Deshanna. "Um, let's see, I have some of the most influential trading contracts at my disposal, Empress Celene owes me a couple of favors. Oh! And I'm the fucking Inquisitor! I think I'm more capable of offering something more than worth your time. Like, perhaps, diplomatic connections far beyond the borders of Val Royeaux, perhaps? I'll even throw in a night with Iron Bull here to sweeten the deal."

"Say what?" Iron Bull questioned.

"Hmm. I might make use of your Ambassador. The Montilyets aren't what they once were...but at least they are from proper stock." Minister Bellise grudgingly conceded. "Arrange for me to be introduced to the Court of Antiva. I hear winter is most pleasant by their sea. Very well, Inquisitor. Should you fulfill your end of the bargain, I shall...raise the Du Paraquttes to lordship." The Minsiter sighed despondently before turning to leave. "Oh, and your qunari can follow me. I have a guest room here where he can uphold his end of the bargain."

That caught both Rajmael and Iron Bull off guard.

"I, uh... I was only joking about that part." Rajmael informe..

"I wasn't." The Minister said seriously.

"Well, what the heck. I'll try anything twice." Iron Bull admitted as he followed after the older woman.

"When we get to my chambers, I expect you to listen. I have a harness and saddle I think will fit you perfectly." Minister Bellise instructed.

"Yes, ma'am." Iron Bull answered eagerly.

Rajmael had the sudden urge to take a bath, and get out of here as fast as possible. Iron Bull's constitution was greater than Rajmael realized.

Later at the docks by the Val Royeaux Bazaar...

With the Du Paraquettes finally raised to lordship, thanks to the sponsorship of Comtess Dionne, the papers affirming their status ratified by Judge Auld, and Minister Bellise formally recognizing them as nobles, Josephine invited Rajmael to meet with her at the Val Royeaux docks. The Inquisitor found his Ambassador leaning on a rail by the water ways staring at the various ships that were making port, no doubt dreaming about rebuilding her family's fleet, with a look of serene joy on her face.

"I have received word from the House of Repose, My Lord. They officially declare that their contract is null and void. There's no longer a price on my life." Josephine sighed with relief.

Rajmael smiled sarcastically. "Such a polite guild of cutthroats! Especially after they already tried to kill you."

"Yes. I...I am truly sorry that you were forced to deal with them. That you and my family's fortune were endangered by my part of the game." Josephine stared back out the ships, with memory dancing in her eyes. "Did you know that I used to be a bard?"

That caught Rajmael by surprise. He had a hard time imagining Josephine of all people being an agent for hire. He once saw the woman go deathly pale from watching a goose getting carved. "You were an assassin? Forgive me if I have a hard time picturing that."

"Ha. Yes, and I've worked very hard to keep it that way." Josephine laughed sheepishly. "When I was attending the University of Val Royeaux with all the other gentry from Antiva, when I learned about bards. I was swept up by the tales of dashing rogues, alluring secrets, and exotic trysts. It was all so romantic! I decided that this was the life for me." A curtain of regret came over Josephine. "During one particular intrigue, I discovered another bard sent to kill my patron. We fought, or scrapped, I should say. Both of us were terrified. We were fighting at the top of steep flight of stairs, the other bard drew a knife, and I pushed him away. You can imagine the result." Shame and sorrow now completely gripped Josephine's face.

"I can imagine. And in retrospect, it was better you then him." Rajmael said truthfully.

"But it was such a waste, Inquisitor!" Josephine adamantly insisted with tears almost in her eyes. "When I took off his mask, I knew him! We'd attended parties together! If I had stopped to use my voice, try to use reason instead of scuffling like a common thug...I'll always wonder who that young man might have become. Maybe he could have still been one of my peers in the senate, or..."

"Or maybe he could have been that assassin who broke into Skyhold who tried to murder you." Rajmael stated.

"Perhaps. I feel that I'm that last one to judge whether or not he would have used the blade. In all the commotion I...Oh, forgive me. I don't believe I ever thanked you for all that you have done for me."

"And you don't need to, Josephine. You're one my people, and I consider you a valued advisor and friend." Rajmael smiled brightly.

Josephine beamed across her face and she bowed her head respectfully. "I will never forget how you helped save the House of Montilyet, Your Worship. If you should ever find yourself in Antiva, please know that the reception my family will give you will be legendary." Josephine curtsied and decided to make her way back to Skyhold.

Rajmael waited until Josephine was well out of sight and earshot. "Did you know about all that, Leliana?"

Sister Nightingale emerged out of nowhere like a shadow. "That Josie used to be a bard? Yes. I helped her escape the repercussions when she abandoned that life. I would have been a poor friend if I didn't. I'm surprised that she told you. She must trust you deeply, Inquisitor."

"She is one of us, and I always look after my people."

"Why did you call me here then? You've already dealt with Josephine's problem with the House of Repose."

"Yes, but I didn't deal with the problem that is the House of Repose." Rajmael answered sternly. "They broke into my keep, and made an attempt on my Ambassador's life. I cannot let this stand."

"Ah. You want them to no the price of crossing the Inquisition." Leliana realized.

"Yes. I want you to gather our most destructive agents. Katari, Korbin, Argent, Luka, Neria and Rion will be perfect. Dispatch them to the House of Repose' archives and have them destroy every contract, document and financial bond in that building. I want the House of Repose to be the House of Ashes when they're done, so that all the assassins in the world know not to touch any member of the Inquisition."

"I will see it done, Inquisitor." Leliana promised. "But what of Josephine? She was most adamant to not take this path."

"And she won't. I am doing this of my own volition with no other motivation than my own ego." Rajmael promised. "And besides, I won't tell her if you won't."

"I was never even here, Inquisitor." Leliana responded mischievously. "Now I'll not' go dispatch that 'unknown' group of agents I've 'never' heard of."

Later back at Skyhold...

Rajmael returned to his basee of operations hoping to unwind at the Skyhold tavern after dealing with the pain in the ass that is Orlesian bureaucracy. He was hoping to enjoy some Fereldan ale when he saw Cole arguing with Solas of all people. Great. Another problem Rajmael would probably have to deal with.

"No!" Solas refused.

"But you like demons!" Cole argued.

"I enjoy the company of spirits, yes, which is part of why I do no abuse them with binding spells."

"It isn't abuse if I ask for it!" Cole insisted.

"That isn't always true." Solas informed. "Also, I do not practice blood magic, which renders this conversation completely academic

"I'm almost too tired to care, but what's going on?" Rajmael asked and dashed away his hopes of getting drunk.

"He won't bind me." Cole explained anxiously. "He's a mage, and he likes demons, but he won't bind me."

"And as a mage, I don't blame him." Rajmael said back. "No ethical mage with respect for spirits should ever do such a thing. And after what we saw the Grey Wardens doing at Adamant, I would not allow such a thing, especially amongst my own companions."

"But you have to!" Cole asserted walked off distressed and stared into the distance and Rajmael could see the panicked worry on his face under his hat. "If you and Solas won't bind me, then maybe another mage could. Will? Like the Grey Warden mages! And then...Then I won't be like me anymore. Walls around what I want, blocking, bleeding, making me a monster." The Spirit of Compassion spoke in that curious, unsettling manner of his.

"You...want us to bind you to stop you from hurting people? Like how the Grey Warden mages made other spirits hurt people when they performed those blood rituals?"

"Yes! I've already hurt people before, but that was because I didn't know. I don't want to hurt people if someone else uses a ritual like the mages at Adamant. That's why I want someone I know to bind me, make me unable to hurt."

"I understand your fear, Cole, I truly do. But stripping you of what you've become is not the answer. It is never the answer. There must be another way."

"Indeed." Solas confirmed. "I recall tales of Rivaini seers using special amulets to protect spirits they summoned from rival mages. a spirit wearing the Amulet of the Unbound is immune to blood magic and binding. It should work for Cole as well."

"And it just so happens that we have a certain Rivaini Pirate Queen on our payroll." Rajmael remembered. "I'm sure I can get Isabella to procure such a talisman."

"Good." Colse said with relief in his voice as he walked off into shadow once more. "They cannot take me."

Later...

Considering that Isabella was one of the most notorious pirates in the Thedas, with many contacts within the criminal underground and access to the various smuggling operations in the Free Marches, Antiva and Rivain, Rajmael should not have been surprised it how quickly he received the Amulet of the Unbound. It was delivered to him by a courier and came with a letter signed by a kiss mark with Isabella's lipstick.

Rajmael brought the Amulet to Cole, and he decided that they should bring it to Solas in the library's rotunda.

"You found one of the amulets. Excellent! May I?" Cole handed the amulet to their Fade expert. "It is simple enough. You put it on, I charge it with magic, and the spell should protect you."

"Will this truly shield Cole from blood magic?" Rajmael questioned.

"Have faith, Inquisitor." Solas lifted his hand to Cole and an aura of blue magic surrounded them both as the amulet charged. Then suddenly, the aura blew up in their face like a high pitched fire work that rang through the whole floor and sent Cole staggering back.

Varric walked in, drawn by the unknown and sudden squeal of magic that was now ringing in their ears, and saw Cole rubbing his head in pain. "Oh, for the love of...What are you doing to the kid now?"

"Stopping blood mages from binding me like the demons at Adamant. But it didn't work." Cole answered.

"Something is interfering with the enchantment." Solas informed.

"Something like Cole not being a demon, maybe?" Varric pointed out.

"Cole's circumstances are unique. Perhaps something connected to these unique circumstances are what stopping the amulet from protecting him." Rajmael suggested. "Perhaps he is simply...too human?"

Solas shook his bald head in disagreement. "Regardless of the physical form Cole took when he entered this world, he is still, in fact, a spirit."

"Yes, a spirit who is strangely like a person!" Varric insisted.

"I don't matter!" Cole cried. "Just lock away the parts of me that could that someone else could knot together and make me follow and hurt people!"

"Focus on the amulet." Solas instructed. "Tell me what you feel."

Cole stood there and concentrated. Trying to feel out the solution within himself. "Warm, soft blanket covering, but it catches, tears, I am the wrong shape. There's something else..." Cole turned around and pointed eastward. "There. That way."

"Great. For all I know, Isabella just picked up that amulet in a flea market and that's why it doesn't work." Rajmael grumbled.

"I wouldn't put it past Rivaini, but I doubt she'd do that to you." Varric assured. "Listen, kid, maybe work with Cullen and find out where on the map your strange feeling is telling you to go. Maybe you can still find answers."

"Will you come with me?" Cole asked scared. "All of you?"

"Sure thing, kid." Varric promised. Cole left the room to go find Cullen and left the rest of them alone with each other. Solas watched as Cole left with deep concern on his face.

Varric noticed the look on the older elf's face. "Alright, Chuckles, I get it, you like spirits and the Fade, and all that. But he came into this world to be a person. Maybe you should let him be one."

"Cole has come far being what he is. I don't want to strip that from him if we can." Rajmael confessed. "But he needs our help now more than ever."

"I'm not saying we do nothing." Varric assured. "But from what I understand from years of living in Kirkwall, blood magic only works on demons, right?"

"This is not some fanciful tale that you can simply give a desired ending to, Child of The Stone." Solas denounced. "We cannot change our nature simply by wishing."

"Isn't that exactly how we change our nature, Solas?" Varric questioned.

"However we deal with the problem, our next step is to track down whatever is interfering with the enchantment." Solas agreed. "Let us be on our way."

Later in Redcliffe Village

The village of Redcliffe had been making a steady recovery from the time when Magister Alexius had seized control of the castle. Just like the Blight and when the dead roamed these lands, the people were doing their best to just forget what happened there and get on with their lives. Considering how little damage was done when compared to what happened during the Blight, many were actually grateful for the Inquisition's intervention.

The village was relatively empty and quite. Most of the people had gone back to working their fields and casting their nets. As they approached the village they saw a human man dressed in Fereldan leathers with a huge mustache having some kind of exchange with a dwarf.

"Yeah. This should get me through the month." The man confirmed as he handed the dwarf a pouch of coins. The man noticed the group of strangers and walked to approach them. The man must have been new to the village to not know who they were. "Greetings, strangers. Can I help you?"

"You..." Cole seethed with pained anguish. The Spirit of Compassion materialized in front of the man in a cloud of smoke and forced him to his knees, his dagger raised high above his head. "You killed me!"

"What...? I-I don't even know you!" The man yelled in shock and fear.

"You forgot! You threw me in the dungeon at the White Spire, and you forgot while I died in the dark!" Cole shouted, his anger peaked by the pain he felt.

"Wh-what? The Spire?" The grave realization of his crime became apparent on his face as he started shaking with fear and guilt.

"Cole, stop!" Solas called.

The man took the opportunity to run as fast as his legs could carry him while Cole was distracted. But Cole followed after him.

"Whoa, now. Take it easy, Kid." Varric bade.

"He killed me! He killed me, that's why it doesn't work. He killed, now I have to kill him back!" Cole's voice cracked with pain and angry, bitter tears welled up in his eyes.

"Wait! Before there are any fatalities that don't involve Venatori or Red Templars, would someone tell me what's going on?" Rajmael demanded.

"Cole, this man could not have killed you. You are a spirit. You have not even possessed a body." Solas reminded deliberately.

"A broken body, bloody, banged on the stone cell floor, guts gripping in the dark dank. A captured apostate." Cole remembered as though he could feel every word as he spoke. "They threw him into the dungeon at the White Spire in Val Royeaux, and forgot about him. He starved, thirsted, wasted away in the cold dark after screaming his voice hoarse and broke his fists while he cried for help. I...broke through the barriers, found my way into the cold stone where he lay forgotten. I came to help him, but I couldn't. So I became him. Cole."

"If Cole was an apostate, then that means that guy was a Templar." Varric realized. "That dwarf he was talking to must've been a lyrium smuggler."

"Please. Please, let me kill him. I need to...I need to." Cole followed after the running Templar with murder in every step he took.

Every word Cole drew at each of them like a knife in their hearts. Solas maintained his calm, unbiased façade stead. Rajmael, on the other hand, felt a cauldron of emotions churning inside him. It was Templars like this, and how they treated others, and what they did to him that made him hate them so much. But this wasn't about how Rajmael felt. He had no idea how Cole should handle this, or how it would effect him.

"Solas, you're an expert on spirits. What do you think we should do?"

"We cannot let Cole kill that man." Solas answered.

"I don't think anyone was going to suggest that, Chuckles." Varric pointed out.

"Cole is a spirit, he came to this world to help another, but the death of the real Cole deeply effected, drove him away from his original purpose." Solas explained. "If he is going to regain that part of himself, he must learn to forgive what was done to him."

"Oh, come on, Solas! You can't just forgive someone for killing you!" Varric contested.

"You can't. But a spirit can. Especially when that spirit is of Compassion."

Varric didn't accept that. "Cole's not just a spirit, though, is he? Cole's angry, and he's got every right to be. He needs to work through it."

"A spirit doesn't work through emotion. It embodies them." Solas denounced.

"Look, Cole came here to be a person. To honor the memory of the real Cole. If he just forgets what that guy did, then he may even forget his reason for being here, forget Cole altogether." Varric argued.

Solas fervently shook his head. "You would completely alter the essence of what he is."

"No, he did that himself when he first left the Fade. I'm just trying to help him survive." Varric explained. The dwarf looked to the Inquisitor for answers. "Rajmael, you've been hurt, a lot. Especially by Templars. You know what it's like to have bad things happen to you, but not be controlled by it. Even when your family's murderer is crying at your feet. Was any of that easy?"

"No. No, it was not." Rajmael knew all too well what suffering was like. The scars that blanketed his whole body were a constant reminder. "But just forgetting the pain and the injustice of it is just as bad as turning a blind eye to it. Compassion is a wonderful, marvelous thing, but it can't just be handed out like candy, or it is meaningless. If Cole is to come to grips with what happened, then he must confront this man and what he did to him. Compassion must also walk in hand with justice."

"Leave it to me, Inquisitor. I'll handle it." Varric promised.

Varric caught up with Cole while the two elves followed after them. The enraged Spirit of Compassion cornered the murderous Templar at a cliff over a rocky bank just outside the village. The frightened human's head snapped left and right looking for another way to escape, but the only way out was past the young man he murdered. Cole stared at the man with murder and rage in his eyes.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" The man begged.

"Sorry isn't going to help him now, is it, Kid?" Varric asserted.

"No. It isn't." Cole answered venomously.

Varric cocked a bolt into Bianca's firing lane, and handed her to Cole. Now Rajmael knew just how serious Varric was: Varric never let anyone fire Bianca. "Just look down the scope, squeeze the trigger, and put him down like a mad dog."

Cole pressed the crossbow's stock against his shoulder, Bianca shook in his trembling grip, and looked down her scope with angry tears in his eyes.

"Do it!" Varric urged.

"No! Please!" The Templar begged.

An agonized yell of anger and loss erupted from Cole's lips, and he pulled the trigger. The Templar cried in terror as Bianca's arrow flew from her arms, faster than lightning. Everyone froze and watched in shock at what Cole had done.

He opened his eyes, and looked at what happened. He was more shocked than anyone at what just happened. The arrow flew right by his head. The Templar was still alive. Cole did not shoot him.

Cole breathed a breath of anguish, the tears now freely streamed down his face. He just couldn't do it.

Varric carefully took his beloved Bianca back from Cole. "How you doing, Kid? You feeling better?"

"No." Cole sobbed.

"You can't just make pain go away, even if you kill him. That's something I learned the hard way." Varric said with sincere sympathy.

Cole raised his hand to the shivering Templar. "Forget..."

Varric interrupted the young man's hand and interrupted his spell. "No, Kid. He's got to learn to live with it. Just like you do."

"Please...please. Let's just go home now." Cole wept.

Rajmael was shocked as a wave of nostalgia crashed against him. This was just like when Nethras handed the Chantry mother responsible for murdering his parents and burning him at the stake. She was at his feet after almost twenty years, begging for mercy. Rajmael wanted to kill her more than anything, the urge to take her life was overwhelming, like a hunger or thirst that needed to be satisfied. But he couldn't. Even after all the pain and terror she put him through, Rajmael couldn't lower himself to her level. And Cole just painfully went through that same emotional ordeal. Perhaps Rajmael and Cole had a lot more in common than most would think.

Back at Skyhold...

Rajmael, Varric and Solas found themselves back in the library. Solas was quite beside himself the whole journey back.

"For all we know, the amulet will never work now. Cole remains vulnerable to binding." Solas said sullenly

"No, he isn't, Chuckles." Varric rebutted. "The amulet didn't work on Cole because he's too human. Maybe now the Kid's too human for that binding magic to work on him."

"Solas, what we saw back there was one of the most extraordinary things I've ever seen." Rajmael lectured. "Compassion, true compassion, is one of the rarest and most precious things in this world, just like a Spirit of Compassion is. But a Spirit of Compassion gives that gift freely because it's in it's nature to do so. But for mortals like us, it is not something that can be given away so freely like cheap candy, especially to those who wronged us. But when it is given, especially to those who don't deserve it, that is when we find what is truly best within ourselves."

"I hope you're right, Inquisitor. For Cole's sake most of all." Solas responded as he took in Rajmael's words.

Cole entered the room, limping as though he had just been in a fight. Perhaps this ordeal effected more than on just an emotional level.

"It still hurts. When does it stop hurting?" Cole asked painfully.

"Pain...never just goes away, Cole. But it will get better, in time. And your friends can help you move past it, make memories that will overshadow your pain. And eventually, it will fade away." Rajmael answered gently. "I'm very proud of you, Cole."

"Come on, Kid. Let's go for a walk, it'll clear your head." Varric invited.

"The Left Hand misses a friend with two different names, she's sad, alone, but..." Cole's trance ended abruptly before he could finish. He seemed at a loss, confused, shocked. "Everyone can see me now. They remember me. How will I put honey in Leliana's wine without her noticing?"

"I can help with that. It's a little trick called a 'Roofie'." Varric answered grinningly. "The best way to do it is to distract her with something she likes."

"Like shoes? She likes red shoes with golden embroidery, they make her feel happy."

Varric's roguish grin widened from ear to ear. "Kid, I think you're going to make a wonderful real boy."

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael made his way to Leliana in the rookery to get a status report from their operatives and agents throughout Thedas, and learn of any Venatori activity. He found Leliana sitting at her desk next to the modest shrine to Andraste. The Spymaster was staring at an open letter on her desk, whatever its contents were, it left Sister Nightingale with a look stunned sadness. She was so focused on the letter she didn't even notice Rajmael's approach.

"A message from Divine Justinia." Leliana revealed when she finally acknowledged the Inquisitor's presence.

"I see. Is this one of your old correspondences with her?"

"No. Quite the opposite, in fact." Leliana answered with confusion. "This letter was written months, perhaps even years ago...to be delivered to me in the event of Justinia's death. I've heard of such contingency plans. A sudden death often leaves loose ends."

"And you got it just now? I see her couriers were quite prompt to give it to you." Rajmael said sarcastically.

"To be fair, things have been rather hectic and chaotic since the Conclave's destruction." Leliana said dryly. "I am to go to Valence..."

"Where?"

"It's a small village on the Waking Sea, and a place that Justinia held very dearly to her heart." Leliana answered. "She was the Revered Mother of the Chantry there for many years before she was Divine. There is something hidden there. Something Justinia wants me to find."

"And you wish to take leave from your duties to pursue your friends final wishes?"

"Well, yes. The Divine was a powerful woman who used her position to obtain all manner of things. Whatever she hid in Valence would best serve the Inquisition, and kept out of the wrong hands." The Spymaster explained. "And I would like you to accompany me."

Rajmael groaned unhappily. "Leliana, you know I don't do well with Chantries."

"I know, you've made your stance on this matter quite clear." Leliana would be a fool to have forgotten the times and reasons Rajmael raved against the Chantry. "But this isn't about that. If whatever's hiding in Valence is as valuable as I think it is, then we will not be the only ones looking for it. I shall meet you at the Chantry in Valence. Try not to delay."

Later in the Valence Chantry, near the Waking Sea...

The Inquisitor made his way to Valence alone, less chances of attracting attention that way. Rajmael made his way straight to the Chantry, which was situated on a small hill that overlooked the village. This house of human worship was very small compared to some of the other ones he had seen, but it still possessed that Orlesian extravagance that Rajmael disliked. Marble statues of martyrs, exemplars, and past Divine's stood along the path up to the massive carved door, and those damned bells ringing like there was a no tomorrow. Definitely not a place Rajmael would want to spend his time.

"Glad you could make it, Inquisitor." Leliana greeted as she emerged from the shadows, startling Rajmael. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost."

"I did get lost. Your Chantries all have the same sense of pretentious fashion and air of arrogance that it's hard for me to tell them apart." Rajmael rebutted sardonically.

"Come. Let us go inside before we are noticed." Leliana invited, ignoring Rajmael's comment.

Inquisitor and Spymaster entered the Chantry, and for such a small one, this place was quite extravagant with its gilded pictures, marble sculptures and polished floor. All this finery was here no doubt thanks to the generosity of the previous Divine who ministered here. Orlesians obviously didn't know the meaning of humility.

Leliana knelt before the giant alabaster image of Andraste with reverence and whispered a quick prayer. "This place is just as I remembered it."

Rajmael curiously quirked an eyebrow. "You mean you've been here before?"

"Yes. After the Blight ended, I said my goodbyes to Aedan and all my comrades, and came here to see Justinia. She was just Dorothea then, a Revered Mother. She helped me many years ago, when I was at my lowest point after I was betrayed by someone I held dearly." Leliana explained. "It is good to see this place still untouched by Corypheus."

Rajmael looked around with a careful eye. "I thought Chantries were supposed to always to be filled with priests and singing. This place is almost as vacant that spot in Vivienne's chest where her heart is supposed to reside."

"It is a small Chantry, and many of its attendants are out performing services." Leliana assured.

A Chantry priestess appeared from around the corner. Surprise and joy smacked on to her face when she saw the newly entered patrons of this place. "Leliana? Is that you?"

Leliana was equally surprised. "Sister Natalie? What are you doing here? I thought you were still in Val Royeaux."

"No, I've been here since Divine Justinia died. This place makes feel like...she's still here with us." Natalie embraced Leliana as a friend and sister would, but despite how welcoming Leliana's arms were, her face relayed a message of distrust and caution to Rajmael. Rajmael understood the message.

"You must be careful, Natalie. Justinia's rivals are making dangerous moves, vying for position and the Sunburst Throne." Leliana said cautiously. "I don't want to see you harmed."

"You do not need to fear for me, my friend. I know Andraste watches over me." the Sister assured.

"Inquisitor, this is Sister Natalie. A trusted friend." Leliana introduced.

"Wait. Inquisitor? You...you brought the Inquisitor here?" Natalie became flustered and immediately went to one knee. "My lord, please forgive me for not recognizing you sooner."

"Good. I go out of my way to not be recognized." Rajmael stated disinterestedly

"Oh. I...I see." Natalie slowly rose back to her feet.

"Natalie, listen." The former lay-sister urged. "There is something hidden here. Something Justinia left for me."

"Oh, really? What is it?" Natalie asked curiously.

"I don't know, but we'll find it. I am curious to find what brought us all here." Leliana gave Rajmael a brief glance. He knew instantly what she wanted. For certain people, when they have worked as closely and as intensely as they have together, when alert, verbal instructions become unnecessary. "Justinia's letter came with instructions. They were a little cryptic. 'Always remember that faith is sprung from a barren branch. That light has no fear of darkness. Above all, remember that strength resides in an open heart."

"She must be hinting at something in here." Natalie assumed. "Let's look around."

"Do they still sing the verses from the Benedictions every Friday? That canticle was always Justinia's favorite." Leliana asked.

"Oh, yes. Of course. We would never forget the traditions of our beloved Most Holy." Natalie assured.

"That is lovely to hear."

"Hey, I think I found something." The Inquisitor stated. While Leliana was chatting Natalie up. Rajmael too the time to look for those clues Leliana mentioned. Faith sprung from a barren branch? In this very corridor, there was a pastel picture in a gilded frame of a beautiful flower blooming from a dead branch. Hidden in the frame's intricately carved exterior was something out of place: a worn out, unpolished knot. Something so unremarkable, yet so out of place it had to be what he was looking for. He pressed his finger against discovering it was a button, and it released some kind of mechanism. Now he knew he was the right track. He had to keep following the clues.

"I was in the Cloister in Lothering when the Blight began. There was so much fear then." Leliana remembered. "No one knew what was going to happen, whether we would live or die. Then one morning I found a single bloom on a dead rose bush, and I thought 'Even in the midst of all this darkness, life finds a way. The Maker hasn't abandoned us. And then Aedan Cousland arrived in Lothering, and later I realized that a rose that blooms in death always has the most thorns."

The next clue they found was in the picture frame representing Hessarian's Mercy. It depicted Archon Hessarian, the first Tevinter who converted to the faith of the Maker, mercifully plunging his sword into Andraste's heart, thus saving her from the painful death of being burned alive.

"An open heart? Well, that's quite literal, and a little morbid." Leliana commented. "But Justinia always said compassion was my greatest strength. Doubt is easy, but it takes courage to trust."

"You humans really like making blood, death and execution the cornerstone of your religion." Rajmael remarked disdainfully.

Leliana couldn't help but also remember her days during the Blight. "I remember the day I first met Aedan Cousland. Some of Loghain's soldiers were foolish enough to try and apprehend him. I begged him to show them mercy, but he cut them down like they were nothing to him. Throughout the whole Blight, I saw the Hero of Ferelden kill so many people who stood in his way, using such...horrific methods. I would sometimes question why the Maker would send someone as bloodthirsty and cruel as him to save the world. Later, I realized that sometimes being brutal to your enemies is the only way to protect what you truly love."

The last clue they found hidden behind the brazier at the base of the statue of Andraste. It was a little difficult to get thanks to the fire, but Rajmael was able to get past it after activating his Shimmering Shield.

"Light has no fear of darkness." Leliana repeated as she gazed at the marble image of her Lady Redeemer. "You know, Justinia saved me, but not in the way you'd think. She refused to give up on me, refused to let my own doubts drag me down. She forced me to save myself. Where there is light there is always hope."

"What about the Hero of Ferelden? Did he leave any lasting impressions concerning that subject?" Hearing Leliana reminisce about her former comrade and her days during the Blight left Rajmael curious.

"Heh. He once said that people cannot live on hope alone, that waiting for a sign is meaningless." Leliana answered grimly. "That without the courage to take action against the darkness, and all that would threaten what you care for, hope is vain."

Rajmael turned the final hidden mechanism and they all heard some sort of gears groaning and turning within the Chantry walls. They looked at the mural of Andraste standing with beauty and grace before her enemies. The mural opened to reveal a different image of Andraste standing before the enlightened convert and the devoted disciple. And finally, the picture lifted upward and revealed a hidden chamber, and inside it was a beautiful jewelry box, its contents a mystery. This must have been the secret that was so important to Divine Justinia that she only wanted it revealed to Leliana in the event of her death.

"There was one more thing that Aedan taught me, something I will never forget." Leliana continued. "That no injustice or threat can ever be tolerated, especially a betrayal. Especially if that betrayal comes from a friends. My old mentor, Marjolaine, who I once loved so dearly, betrayed me when I learned of her secret plans to betray Orlais. I confronted her during the Blight after she sent assassins after me while I traveled with the Hero of Ferelden."

"What happened to her?" Rajmael inquired.

"After we defeated her, Aedan handed me one of Marjolain's own stilettos, and told me to kill her." Leliana's voice cracked with pain, but there was no shame in her words. "He told me that her betrayals and crimes against me were too horrid to be left unpunished, or else she would continue to plague me. Then I plunged that stiletto into the heart of the first woman I loved. And then I was finally free from her."

Leliana turned towards Natalie and n the blink of an eye, Leliana pinned Natalie against the wall. "Sorry to have kept you waiting, Inquisitor." Leliana said as she held a dagger against Natalie's throat.

"Finally! I was getting tired of beating around the bush." Rajmael sighed.

"They never sing The Benedictions here on Friday, Natalie. Something so simple, yet you got it so wrong. I wanted to believe, but you were lying from the very start." There was shame and disappointment in Leliana's voice as she pointed out her false friend's professional shortcoming. Natalie said nothing, but gave Sister Nightingale a contemptuous look. "Keep that pretty mouth of yours shut if you must dear. You've already given me everything I need to know. The prickleweed burs on your hem, talking about the sun rising through the Breach. It all points to a single place: Morelle in the Dales, Grand Cleric Victoire's bastion. She sent you, didn't she? Victoire was always an opportunist."

"Is this someone I should know, Leliana?" Rajmael inquired.

"She is an experienced Grand Cleric. She always kept her opinions to herself, and was never too outspoken. It was why she was not important enough to be at the Conclave." Leliana answered with distaste in her mouth. "And she never agreed with Justinia's actions. I suppose now, with Justinia dead, she thought she could make her move."

"What did this Grand Cleric hope to gain by sending you here?" Rajmael asked, Natalie said nothing.

"It's pointless to ask her, Inquisitor. And there is no need." Leliana revealed knowingly. "She sent Natalie here simply to see what Justinia was hiding and take it from us."

"The Inquisition and its heathen Inquisitor has turned Thedas away from the true Chant. It must be stopped." Natalie said with all the arrogant self-righteousness Rajmael knew and loathed about the Chantry.

"Stop us? You must be joking." Leliana practically laughed.

"Grand Cleric Victoire is well loved by many. The Inquisition has more enemies than you realize. The Inquisitor cannot be allowed to remain in power." Natalia denied, ignoring the knife at her neck.

Leliana scoffed. "And Victoire thinks she can ally with them? As though she was ever that important."

"We know who our enemy is and what she plans. She played herself right into our hands." Rajmael stated.

"Exactly."

"Kill me, then. I am not afraid to die for what I believe." Natalie pressed her throat against Leliana's blade, truly ready for the end, daring Leliana to do it. "At least I still know what I believe."

Leliana clenched the blade in her hand, glared at Natalie with anger in her eyes. "As you wish...my friend."

"Stop!" Rajmael ordered. "Release her, Leliana. She is not threat to us."

"But the Grand Cleric!" Leliana argued.

"She is one woman, a woman fuelled only by her small minded need to feel important and impose her own beliefs on religious doctrine. Right now people are looking to something more real than her fears." Rajmael reasoned. "And we need to represent that we are better than people like Victoir, otherwise, all efforts for changing the world are for nothing."

"No. No, I...cannot allow any risks to the Inquisition. There is too much at stake." Leliana pressed her blade against Natalie throat, ready to deliver the killing blow.

"Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked, and do now falter..." Natalie recited.

Leliana's conscious was compromised. She had spent her life watching two different leaders accomplish their goals. Divine Justinia who tried to promote peace and equality, but never took the risk for true change, and the world suffered for it. And Aedan Cousland, a bloodthirsty warrior who brutalized, decimated, and mutilated any enemy foolish enough to stand in his way of protecting his country. His methods were severe and even barbaric, but he never compromised or failed his mission. Leliana was stuck at a crossroad and didn't know whose path to follow. Rajmael had to help her.

"Leliana, please. This isn't justice, it's just slaughter!" Rajmael begged. "If you kill her like this now, if you ignore your conscience for the sake of convenience, then you are no better than Loghain Mac Tir, Knight-Commander Meredith, or the Revered Mother who murdered my parents. If your faith means anything to you, then you must listen to it, even if everything else inside you is screaming at you to do otherwise. I know this better than you could possibly imagine. Remember what your friend told you: where there is light there is hope."

Leliana's breathing became erratic, and dagger shook in her grip. Rajmael and her conscious said one thing, while her training and experience said another. Who was she to listen to? After a moment that seemed eternal, she breathed a calming breath and removed her blade from Natalie. "The Inquisitor has spoken. Go. Tell your people that she has a choice. The Inquisition is coming."

Natalie rubbed her neck, and lowered he head in shame. Within a minute, she was gone from the Chantry.

With that matter behind her, Leliana finally approached the beautifully crafted box and the secret that Divine Justinia had hidden for her. But when she lifted the lid of the small keepsake, she found absolutely nothing.

"What? No! There's nothing in here." Leliana was dismayed.

"It's not what you were expecting, Leliana. But that doesn't mean it's nothing. Look." Rajmael instructed.

"There's a message carved in the lid." Leliana found. "The Left Hand must lay down her burden.' She...she's releasing me." A shadow of melancholy cloaked itself over the redheaded Sister. "The Divine has a long reach, but it was always her Left Hand that stretched out. A thousand lies, a thousand deaths. Always her commands, but at the cost of my conscience."

"Her message back in the Fade, when she said she failed you. She was apologizing for what she put you through by serving her." Rajmael realized.

"All this time, Justinia was carrying the fear that she was using me, just like how Marjolaine used me." Leliana sighed. "But Marjolaine's games were trifles, Justinia gambled with the fate of nations. She needed me, no one else could do what I could. She knew that."

"Then you need to stop tormenting yourself over this, Leliana, and let her go." Rajmael urged. "The consequences were always Justinia's. You don't owe her anything anymore. You are no one's tool. You have a heart, and you must listen to it, or all your actions are meaningless."

Sister Nightingale breathed a ragged breath of loss, and breathed in her own confidence. "If it weren't for you, I would have killed Natalie and called it a good thing. There are things that must be said, but not here. I will meet you back at Skyhold."

Back at the Skyhold Rookery...

If there was thing that could certainly be said about Leliana, it's that she was incredibly proficient. By the time Rajmael arrived back at the rookery, Leliana was already handling the aftereffects of their actions in Valence. Apparently, Natalie convinced Grand Cleric Victoire of the true righteousness of the Inquisition, and convinced her to join with them. They were already receiving the donations, supplies and volunteers Victoire could rally. Rajmael also noticed the small box Justinia left for Leliana on her desk.

"I am told that Ambassador Montilyet is pleased with the...restraint you showed in Valence." An agent informed.

"Ugh. Josie's positively beside herself right now. 'Niceness before knives, Leliana. Haven't I always told you?'" Leliana mocked. "Oh, I'll never hear the end of it."

The agent made his exit, leaving the Inquisitor alone with his Spymaster.

"How have you been since we left Valence, Leliana." Rajmael asked.

"I feel...wonderful actually. Like having a terrible burden lifted from my shoulders." Leliana answered with genuine joy. "If you hadn't been there, I would have killed Natalie without a second thought. I'd have told you that I didn't have a choice, but there is always a choice. I know that I shouldn't ignore my heart, and mercy is not always a weakness. Thank you for showing me the way, even when I couldn't see it for myself."

"You've exceeded what Justinia and Marjolaine made you to be, and you never need to measure your actions to what Aedan Cousland would have done. None of them could imagine the power you now wield."

"And now I know how to use that power wisely." Leliana said confidently. "I must stay true to who I really am, before a Spymaster, Left Hand, or bard. I almost lost sight of who I truly am."

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael had finally found himself sitting down at the tavern with a warm dish of Dalish Deep Forest Comfort, his favorite meal. He gave Flissa the recipe, and she even added burrow beetle larvae to it. And to top it all off, he had a tall mug of ice-cold ale to wash it all down. He had been waiting for this for too long.

"Beg pardon, Lord Inquisitor." a monotone voice interrupted.

Rajmael groaned in frustration at having his culinary bliss interrupted before he even took his first bite. "What?!" He looked up and saw he was being interrupted by a middle aged woman with brown hair and the Chantry sunburst branded on her forehead. She was Tranquil. As a Dalish mage, Rajmael was disturbed by such an appalling thing, and his disturbance was furthered by the discovery he and Cassandra made about the truth of the Seekers. No matter what name anyone called their higher power, magic was a gift from the gods, and to sever, to strip it away and leave a hollowed out husk all for the sake of convenience and personal security was perverse, unnatural and shameful. It's one thing to kill someone because they're a threat, it's another to turn them into a slave. In this respect, and many others, the Chantry was no different than the Qunari.

"Forgive my interruption, Lord Inquisitor, but I bring a message from Lady Vivienne." The Tranquil mage said in her hollow voice.

"She couldn't come and bring it herself?"

"The Imperial Enchanter believes that such a menial task is best suited for the Tranquil."

Rajmael snorted in disgust. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me. Well, what does she want?"

"She has an urgent matter that she wishes to discuss with you."

"Well, what is it?"

"She would like to speak to you about in private." The Tranquil answered. "Enchanter Vivienne does not trust the discretion of those that are Tranquil."

"Wait just a damned minute. You mean she sent you here, interrupted my favorite meal, and wants me to go meet with her about something so important she couldn't make the time to walk barely a hundred yards to me?" Rajmael's anger was starting to surpass his hunger. "Well, since Her Majesty wishes it, I suppose I must go and see what she wants."

"That is what she desires, Lord Inquisitor."

Rajmael grabbed his fork and took a drink of his ale. "Well, then it's just going to have to wait until after I've finished my meal. I can't deal with elitist self-importance and bullshit on an empty stomach."

Half an hour later...

Rajmael made his way to the upper floor with the balcony that overlooked the Main Hall where Vivienne made her little plush living quarters. He quite was put off to find several Tranquil mages standing at attention like they were servants waiting for orders from the Imperial Enchanter.

"Darling, I'm so glad you could finally make it." Vivienne welcomed in posh, haughty voice while she overlooked the upper and lower courtyards from the balcony. "I find myself in the unfortunate and dire need to ask for your help."

Vivienne asking for his help? Him of all people? She must be grasping at straw. "Oh? With what, Vivienne?"

"There is an alchemical formula that I must complete, but I'm afraid that I have been unable to acquire to the most critical ingredient: The heart of a snowy wyvern." The Imperial Enchanter revealed. "I had arranged to obtain a heart, but the Chevaliers working with me were killed in the civil war."

That's what she wanted? Her desperation was more grave than Rajmael realized. "Have you been drinking Aqua Lucidius?! No one in their right mind would willingly go after a snowy wyvern! Normal wyverns are bad enough, and I've hunted those, but snowy wyvern are as close to dragons as those creatures can get. They've been known to devour whole hunting parties,even kill dragons, and their poison is potent enough to kill giants!"

"My dear, you're acting as though I'm asking the impossible. You yourself have decimated venerable armies and killed various high dragons." Vivienne reminded. "I wouldn't ask this of you if I thought it was impossible. I have no doubt you are equal to this monster."

She was flattering him, he knew she was working an angle. "Just what kind of alchemical concoction are you brewing to need such a rare and difficult to obtain ingredient?"

"It is a special request from a member of the Council of Heralds. I am the Imperial Enchanter, after all." Vivienne answered. "The matter is private. That is all there is to say."

"You want me to risk my life, and the life of our companions, and you won't even give me the courtesy to even know why?" Rajmael asked incredulously.

"My dear, it is hardly proper for me to blab, as it were, about the secrets of those who put their trust in my discretion." Vivienne reasoned. "After all, you wouldn't want me to divulge information sensitive to the Inquisition simply because someone else was curious."

Vivienne never helped anyone with anything unless it served her more. She was using him, and he knew it. He just didn't what for. Rajmael decided to play along, for now. "Alright, Vivienne. If you truly need this, then I'll do what I can."

"Thank you, my dear. I would be most grateful." Vivienne's thanks actually sounded sincere. "I've already given the location of the beasts lair to Cullen. And remember, darling: I must have its heart, or the potion is useless. I eagerly await your success."

As Rajmael turned to leave, he saw something on Vivienne's table that caught his eye. He stealthily swiped it without her knowing, and it appeared to be some kind of alchemical note with formulations.

A suitable replacement for the primaetal root must be derived, as the plant went extinct during the Second Blight. Dried redmoss cut from a wandering hill has shown to have similar restorative effects. An emulsion from silverite and elfroot can counteract the fatal toxicity of redmoss.

The solution must be heated for exactly seventy-five minutes with magical flame. Mundane flames, no matter their fuel source, have been known to burn a too low a temperature.

The heart of the snowy wyvern must be added at the last possible moment. The compound becomes unstable when exposed to light; even if stored in perfect darkness, it becomes unviable after three days. It begins to degrade in potency in a matter of hours, and experimentation has shown that the age regression effect decreases over time from the moment it is synthesized. By the second day, the results are too subtle to detect, and by the third, it is entirely useless.

The Tranquil staff here have the skill and experience necessary to synthesize and concoct this formula in the fastest amount of time. All I need is the heart of a snowy wyvern.

Rajmael was familiar with some of the ingredients and their purpose. His clan's healer and Keeper Deshana often used similar techniques to improve the potency of their healing potions. But this? This was something else entirely. Age regression? Some kind of fountain of youth in a bottle? Vivienne wasn't that old, and he doubted she would place her faith in such an untested, and surely desperate, potion. Who could this be for?

Rajmael knew exactly who to talk to and what he was going to do. He made his way to the rookery and Sister Nightingale.

"Can I help you with something, Inquisitor?" Leliana asked curiously.

"Yes, I think you can, Leliana." Rajmael answered with a somewhat sadistic smile on his face. "I want you to tell me everything you know about our dear Enchanter Vivienne. I want to know every vivid, minute, and personal detail."

Skyhold, a while later...

Rajmael hated hunting wyverns, snowy or otherwise. They were fast and strong, with the cunning of an alpha predator, with poison that was three times deadlier than the Black Hand. Not to mention the fact that a wyvern that wasn't in the mood to maul anyone stupid enough to hunt, which wasn't very often, would void the rancid, stinking contents of their bowels, and shit all over their hunters to throw off pursuit. But they did it! Rajmael, Solas, Iron Bull, and Varric, who somehow had experience with hunting wyverns, actually managed to hunt the damned thing down in a wet, smelly marsh, and killed it. Rajmael had the wonderfully horrific pleasure of eviscerating the oversized lizard and collected it's heart. Vivienne had better appreciate this.

Rajmael found the Imperial Enchanter still waiting on the balcony.

"What can I do for you, my dear? Is it too much to hope that you've brought me the heart of a snowy wyvern?" Vivienne asked with her back turned to him.

"It wasn't easy, but I got you the vital organ you asked for." Rajmael answered wearily and slid the jar he contained it in on to the table.

"Words can't begin to describe my gratitude, darling." Vivienne beamed as she gazed at the large heart in a jar. "I must get to work immediately. You've no idea how much this means to me, Inquisitor. Please, allow me to show you what your efforts went to when I've completed the formula."

A short time later at the Chateau de Ghislain...

Rajmael and Vivienne took a quick ride through the Val Royeaux countryside to an almost indecently large mansion. This cobblestones that led up to the gate were white as mountain snow, and the path leading up to the house was trailed by masterfully crafted marble statues of valiant knights and beautiful maidens. Every knight, servant and member of this house's staff bowed to Vivienne and showed her every respect as though she were the empress. So this was the house of the Vivienne's lover, the Duke de Ghislain? These Orlesian nobles certainly didn't seem to know what the meaning of "modesty" was.

Vivienne led Rajmael into the large manor with urgency in her every footstep, like she couldn't get in fast enough. The two made their way up a winding flight of stairs to the top floor. Rajmael was amazed at how polished the floors were, it was like walking on perfectly reflective mirrors.

When they arrived at the final door, there was a certain, foreign, look of hesitation on Vivienne's face. She quickly recomposed herself and entered. Rajmael had seen main hall's smaller than this room. The entire chamber was made of white stone with furniture made by the most skilled carpenters, and by the rarest of materials. At the end of the room was a large bed with a gilded frame made of sylvanwood. And in the bed, was someone resting in it.

"This should only take a moment, Inquisitor." Vivienne assured with deep sorrow in her voice.

Rajmael followed the Imperial Enchanter over to the bed and saw the man who Vivienne made this potion for. He was dressed in the finest Orlesian silks, but the man looked old enough to be someone's grandfather. His grey hair had receded off his scalp, with frail, wrinkled, paper-like skin. The man's breaths were so shallow it was difficult to tell if he was alive. No wonder this guy needed an age regression brew.

"Bastien? I'm here, my darling." Vivienne whispered gently caressed the duke's face as though it were some value treasure. She took the vial with the potion she distilled from the snowy wyvern heart and carefully put it to her lover's lips, making him drink the precious fluid. Vivienne watched over the duke as though she were expecting something to happen. But nothing happened. "That's strange. It should be working by now."

Rajmael stood in complete silence and watched as the old man in the bed gasp and take shallow, rapid breaths, as though the air refused to stay in his lungs. Then his breath became more and more shallow. His eyes opened one last time. And then, the Duke de Ghislain's last breath escaped from him in a long, pitiful sigh.

"My darling? Bastien?" Vivienne called in vain as she watched her lover expire.

Rajmael said nothing. Just stood there and watched the old man die.

"There...there is nothing here now." Vivienne stated, trying to maintain her cold demeanor. "We should go. Bastien's sister will want to give him his final rites, and his son will be here soon."

Later, back at Skyhold...

After returning from Val Royeaux, Vivienne instantly went back to her living space to settle Bastien's affairs. When Rajmael went to see her, she was once again facing the balcony with her back turned to him.

"You deliberately sabotaged my formula." Vivienne stated as fact. Despite her trying to maintain her neutral façade, Rajmael could feel the anger simmering in her.

"Yes. I gave you the heart of a common gurgut." Rajmael said honestly. "Did you honestly think that I would just follow what you said like some kind of pawn? The mistake was yours."

"I expected a betrayal, of course. I just didn't think you were clever enough to think of it yourself. I shall have to bear this in mind in the future." Vivienne's voice was filled with contempt, but she kept her back to the Inquisitor. "Now, do be a dear, and run along. I have important matters I need to tend to."

Rajmael felt that thing in the back of his mind scream at him, and this time, he didn't even try to ignore it. "Vivienne, would you please turn around?"

Vivienne sighed in disgust, but complied. She was met with the back of Rajmael's hand straight across her right cheek. The slap was so loud it echoed through the main hall and left a print on her delicate face and smeared her makeup. The Imperial Enchanter glared daggers at the Inquisitor as she clasped her burning cheek. No one had ever dared strike her before.

"DON"T YOU DARE TURN YOUR BACK ON ME, YOU LYING BITCH!" Rajmael roared, seething with rage. "I will not be disrespected by a manipulative social-climber who only made it to the political floor by spreading her legs in my own keep! Did you think I was such a fool that I didn't know what you were playing at? That I didn't know every step you made, every angle you were trying to work? Yes, I sabotaged your formula, I knew your withered lover was dying. And I also knew that he, as a leading member of the Council of Heralds was your patron in the halls of Orlesian politics, and with him dead, you don't have you don't have the crutch you need to not be bound by the same restrictions as other Circle mages. So you tried to use some desperate, last ditch attempt to save him with some untested youth potion made from a snowy-wyvern heart. Not to save his life, you're smart enough to know that such an attempt was vain. You did it to impress and endear yourself to Bastien's son, who will inherit his seat on the Council of Heralds, and Bastien's sister, who is a high ranking member of the Chantry. Well, now they get to suffer for your stupidity, as well."

"What? What do you mean?" Vivienne demanded.

"What I mean, Vivvy, is that as of right now, I have dismantled and bought out more than half of the de Ghislain's family businesses have been bought off and all there debts called in, which will probably cripple them for the next three generations. And I've officially had Bastien's sister disgraced and demoted from her position in the Chantry. And I've made sure that they both know it's because you made the mistake of crossing the Inquisitor. So if I were you, I wouldn't be expecting a card from them this Wintersend."

If looks could kill, Rajmael would be dead, judging from that dirty look Vivienne was glaring at him. At least it would if Rajmael didn't think it was so funny.

"Do you really think this will harm me, Inquisitor? I'll recover from this setback." Vivienne assured seethingly.

"Maybe, but you'll never recreate the Circle the way you want it at this rate. Not at your age." Rajmael suddenly remembered Vivienne's greatest fear that he learned in the Fade. "Let me make this perfectly clear, Vivvy. You. Are. Irrelevant! The Circle of Magi you used as a crutch to live the high life while your fellows suffered is no more. And you've made no friends amongst the rebel mages. So, if you ever want to have any kind of standing and accomplishment that will mean anything it will be by serving the Inquisition. So let's set the record straight: I am the Inquisitor. You are my subordinate. And as long as you're my subordinate, you will follow orders. Now, who leads this Inquisition?"

Vivienne remained silent, only giving him that hateful glare, wrinkling her face.

"Vivvy, unless you want to be kicked to curb and be left behind in a world with no Circle where you have no rank, you'd better fucking answer me." Rajmael warned with a twisted smile on his face. "Now, who leads this Inquisition?"

"You do." Vivienne said grudgingly.

"And who is my subordinate?"

"...I am." Vivienne's voice cracked with hate.

"See! You can be a good girl when you really try!" Rajmael praised her as though he were praising a pet dog. "You're the subordinate of a heathen, apostate, Dalish elf. And just so you know: unlike you, I didn't get to where I am now by being someone else's bitch. Now you know what Dirthara-ma benal-enaras, tel na emahl'a vhenan means. You have learned humility, and I have crushed your heart. Now, do be a dear, and run along. I happen to enjoy the view here."

"...Well played, Inquisitor." Vivienne seethed and disappeared from Rajmael's sight.

Rajmael listened as Vivienne slowly walked away, with hate and resentment in every footstep. Rajmael knew Vivienne would recover from this, even without the Duke de Ghislain's family backing her up, she had enough political favors and connections to come back. But she would never have the same influence she once had, nor would she be able to manipulate the mage into her bidding. For too long Vivienne had seen Rajmael's sympathies and beliefs as weakness and foolishness, and therefore he could be easily manipulated to suit her ambitions. But that was far from the truth. Rajmael was no one's stepping stone, he would not be deceived or manipulated to serve something he didn't believe in. He warned he when they first arrived at Skyhold, but she ignored him. Vivienne needed to be taught some respect. She would forever hate him, and would now doubt plan revenge on him, but she would now know to respect his abilities, and know he was not be underestimated.

Rajmael suddenly felt a wave of hunger pass through his gut, but it would be easily satisfied. Tonight, he would feast on Vivienne's hopes and dreams.

Language Codex:

Dirthara-ma benal-enaras, tel na emahl'a vhenan: Elven curse, roughly translated, May you learn humility, and may it crush your heart.

Author's Note:

Sorry for the lack of updates this month. It's been really, busy, busy, busy on the home front.

Not to mention the new Trespasser DLC, which is freaking awesome!

I will continue to try and post new chapters as often as possible.

So please, continue to read, review and enjoy.

Sincerely,

Powerslammer.