I enter the first room cautiously, expecting an attack, but instead, I find a room full of… more spirits? Or ghosts, maybe? They have the same shimmery essence as the Guardian. I approach the nearest one.
"Hello," I nervously greet the figure of a young woman. She stares straight ahead, unseeing.
"The smallest lark could carry it, while a strong man might not. Of what do I speak?" she asks. Oh, a riddle. I like riddles, there was a book of them in the library in Kinloch Hold, with the last page containing the answers. Someone had illustrated them in the margins, too.
So, a lark… What are larks known for…singing…oh!
"A tune?"
The young woman's pale, pupil-less eyes look directly at me. Creepy.
"Yes. I am Ealisay. I was Andraste's dearest friend in childhood, and always we would sing. She celebrated the beauty of life, and all who heard Her would be filled with joy. They say the Maker Himself was moved by Andraste's song, and then She sang no more of simple things." The faint smile on Ealisay's face fades into sadness at the last part, and then her gaze turns back to staring straight ahead.
Across from Ealisay stands an older woman, also staring blankly into space. I approach her, and she speaks. "Echoes from a shadow realm, whispers of things yet to come. Of what do I speak?"
That one's obvious. The shadow realm must be the Fade, so…
"Dreams."
"A dream came upon me, as my daughter slumbered beneath my heart. It told of her life, and of her betrayal and death." How awful. "I am Brona. I am sorrow, and regret. I am a mother weeping bitter tears for a daughter she could not save."
How terrible, to foresee your own child's whole life before they're even born, and to see the horrible things that will happen to them. I feel especially sorry for Brona.
The next figure I approach is a woman practically dripping in jewels. "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Of what do I speak?" Another straightforward one.
"Vengeance."
"Yes," the woman hisses angrily. "I am Lady Vasilia. My husband, Hessarian, would have chosen a quick death for Andraste. I made him swear that She would die publicly, with Her war-leaders, that all would know the Imperium's strength. I am justice. I am vengeance. Blood can only be repaid in blood."
Wow. What a bitch.
Standing across from Lady Vasilia is the figure of an elven man, and I approach him next.
"I'd neither a guest, nor a trespasser be; in this place I belong, that belongs also to me. Of what do I speak?"
Well, if you're not a guest in a place, or a trespasser, then you must be home.
"Home."
"Yes. I am Thane Shartan. It was my dream for the People to have a home of their own, where we would have no masters but ourselves. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and thus we followed Andraste, against the Imperium. But She was betrayed, and so were we."
And now the elves in Tevinter are still enslaved, and elves everywhere else are second-class citizens to the shems, apart from the Dalish clans. I didn't know elven history was so closely linked to the Chantry; elves can't even join their ranks.
Next, I approach a heavily-armoured human man. "Veiled in white, like a bride greeting her groom. Of what do I speak?" He asks. Hmmm. Andraste is the Bride of the Maker, so I guess she would have greeted her groom, the Maker, when she died... but she's also here, technically, in the mountains…Oh! I get it, the clouds at the top of the mountains, they're like a veil.
"The mountains?"
"Yes. I am Disciple Havard. I carried Andraste's Ashes out of Tevinter into the mountains to the east where She could gaze ever into Her Maker's sky… No more fitting a tomb than this could we find." That was nice of him.
The next figure is another heavily-armoured man. "A poison of the soul, passion's cruel counterpart; of what do I speak?" He asks bitterly.
"Jealousy."
"Yes. I am General Maferath. Jealousy drove me to betrayal. I was the greatest general of the Alamarri, but beside Her I was nothing. Hundreds fell before Her on bended knee. They loved Her, as did the Maker." The Maker pauses in his speech, and then resumes in a softer voice. "I loved Her too…but what man compare with a god?"
So he sent her to her death because she was more loved than him? Or because she didn't love him as much as he did her? Either way, yikes.
The next figure I speak to is a slightly-less-armoured woman. She smirks at nothing in particular.
"No man has seen it, but all men know it. Of what do I speak?" This one stumps me for a little while. If you can't see it, it's probably a feeling, but what feeling does every single person alive feel?
"Hunger?"
"Yes. Hunger was the weapon used against the wicked men of the Tevinter Imperium. The Maker kindled the sun's flame, scorching the land. Their crops failed, and their armies could not march. Then He opened the heavens and bade the waters flow, and washed away their filth. I am Cathaire, Disciple of Andraste and commander of her armies. I saw these things done, and knew the Maker smiled on us."
That's… brutal. I mean, I know Andraste was the leader of an army, but it's hard to imagine someone who celebrated life's beauty condoning the starvation of thousands.
The final figure in the room is dressed in very fancy robes and a lot of jewellery. I think I know who this is, and in the Chantry, he only represents one thing. "She wields the broken sword, and separates true kings from tyrants. Of what do I speak?"
"Mercy."
"Yes. I could not bear the sight of Andraste's suffering, and mercy bade me end Her life. I am Archon Hessarian. I am the penitent sinner, who shows compassion as he hopes compassion will be shown to him."
Behind the phantom Hessarian, I hear the door to the next room click. It seems I've passed the first test.
