Thank you all for reading! Special thanks to suilven for her patience and speedy betaing!
It was hot in the Arbor Wilds, hot enough to melt off a dwarf's chest hair, Varric thought. Stones didn't seem bothered by it, though, hurrying around checking on weapon stockpiles and trebuchets and generally acting Inquisitorial. He had come a long way from the thief trying to pick up loose valuables in the Haven Chantry, plotting his quick escape from the Inquisition's clutches.
A heavily accented voice drew them both over to where Empress Celene and Ruffles stood together. "Inquisitor!"
"Your Majesty." He bowed, and Celene inclined her head graciously.
"We are gladdened to see you." She actually seemed it, too.
Varric wondered with an inward smirk what Celene would think if she knew she was talking to a junior Carta lieutenant. Of course, given the popularity of spying in Thedas, she almost certainly did. Maybe she didn't care. Maybe it made her think Stones was plucky. Or maybe she was used to having to consider upstarts her equals. After all, His Royal Majesty the King of Ferelden came from the stables, Varric thought sourly, glancing over to where Alistair stood with a set of Fereldan archers. And Varric heartily wished he had stayed there and not caused anyone any trouble.
The Empress was still speaking, and he pulled his gaze away from Alistair to listen.
"This day will be recalled for ages," she was saying. "We are privileged today to witness the fulfillment of the Inquisition's purpose."
Subtle, Varric thought. She was making the expectations of Orlais pretty plain—the Inquisition had her favor only as long as Corypheus remained a threat. So much for appreciating that they had saved her life. Apparently an Empress's gratitude only remained until the object of that gratitude maintained a standing army along her borders once its approved task was completed.
"We certainly hope to fulfill our first and most important mandate today, Your Majesty," Stones agreed, "but there are other ills beyond the threat of Corypheus that the Inquisition may be called upon to address." He held her gaze, his frank blue eyes never wavering from her face.
Ruffles winced ever so slightly, but Varric applauded his friend's directness. Once you knuckled under once, you stayed under. Stones had undoubtedly learned that in the Carta.
Celene gave a faint smile, acknowledging the riposte. "We will note those ills with great interest, some day when there is more time to speak of them. Until that day, know that the forces of Orlais are with you." In a more earnest tone, she added, "Men and women of faith serve you today. Their favor is no less than our own, their service no less dear. Have a care for my people, Inquisitor."
"As though they were my own, Your Majesty," Stones assured her.
"Thank you, Inquisitor. With Orlais at your side, we will see you victorious against Corypheus. May you walk in the Light." She nodded at him again and took her leave, joining one of her generals.
Ruffles gasped as though she had been holding her breath through the whole encounter. "Inquisitor, some day you will go too far."
"Not in the service of my people, Josephine," Stones said. "I'm not going to allow anyone to demand the closure of the Inquisition, or to tell me where and how to care for my people. Orlais doesn't rule us, and the sooner, and more often, I make that clear, the better."
"As you say. At least she took it well."
"She didn't expect anything else, I think."
"Your reputation as a maverick serves you well, Stones," Varric said.
Ruffles was looking across the camp into the overgrown expanse of the Arbor Wilds. "I hope this eluvian you seek lies in a temple not far away, Inquisitor."
"You and me both," he said, flashing her his easy grin.
"No doubt that is where the fighting will be worst. Andraste keep you safe."
"I'm sure she will." As Josephine moved off in the wake of the Empress, Stones glanced at the Seeker, standing nearby, and added, "If Cassandra can't keep me safe, I'm not sure what good Andraste will do."
"Do not blaspheme!" she said, shocked, but there was a color in her cheeks that told Varric she was pleased, as well.
"Come and stop me."
The Seeker rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she looked down at him. "Later."
"In that case, let's get this over with, shall we?"
They set about gathering their team.
Leliana stood with her scouts in the midst of the Wilds. She had taken a position on top of a crumbling wall, her bow poised, waiting for the Red Templars they all knew were coming. This made her a better target, but also gave her a better vantage point from which to aim, and to command the battle.
An elf farther down the wall whispered to a fellow elf who crouched next to him, "Can you feel the magic crackling?"
The second one nodded. "Something more powerful than Corypheus is stirring."
"We shouldn't be here," the first one hissed.
"You won't be if you allow the Red Templars to hear you," Leliana scolded them softly. The Arbor Wilds was a place of mystery, to be sure, but they were here to fight flesh and blood, not to be frightened away by spirits and legends.
Both of them glanced at her, in equal parts guilty and annoyed, and then looked back in the direction from which they expected the attack. Scouts had reported Corypheus and a contingent of Red Templars moving south earlier in the morning; these would be his support troops, keeping the Inquisition forces occupied. Leliana itched to go after Corypheus, take matters into her own hands, but this was the Inquisitor's role, and he and his people needed a path cleared in order to get to Corypheus. That was her task.
Below her, Nathaniel Howe waited, his own bow nocked and ready, with another group of scouts. "Make the monsters pay," he said to them, "leave none standing."
A nervous dwarf took heart at the words, nodding with renewed courage. "We won't flinch," he said stoutly.
"Good."
It would be better if they came sooner, Leliana thought. Nerves were fraying with the waiting.
She held her position, listening hard for the signs of an approach. Below her, Nathaniel tightened his grip on his bow, looking up to catch her eye. She nodded to acknowledge that his sharper ears had heard the telltale rustle of oncoming troops.
And then there was battle. Red Templars coming in, swords waving, armor jingling, shouting the name of their master. Leliana kept one eye on the larger combat, surveying her people, watching to see if any showed signs of breaking and falling back, looking for holes the Red Templars could exploit. As she did so, she was mechanically drawing arrows, nocking, sighting, loosing, over and over. She was rustier at this than she would have liked—the days when she had followed Leyden across Ferelden fighting darkspawn were long ago, and darkspawn were far easier targets than the heavily armored Templars.
Amidst the Templars, she spotted several Grey Wardens, and her heart ached, for Nathaniel as well as herself. These would be the last of those who had been enslaved at Adamant, she imagined—she could only hope Nathaniel wasn't facing a friend. For herself, she felt that bringing them death was a blessing compared to a life obeying Corypheus. She said so under her breath as she loosed an arrow and saw it send a Grey Warden mage flying backward. He didn't rise.
Below her, she saw the Inquisitor approach, blades flashing. Varric was with him, his beloved Bianca cradled in his arms, and Cassandra, fighting tirelessly and well. Alistair, also, with Hawke at his side, sword and daggers working in concert. And behind them, in support, Solas and Hawke's elven friend Merrill.
Morrigan accompanied them, but she wasn't fighting, which angered Leliana. Morrigan was possibly the most powerful mage she had ever met—if she wasn't engaging in this battle, she was endangering them all. No doubt, if pressed, she would say something coolly about how someone had to conserve their energies in order to be fresh later in the day—but in Leliana's mind it was selfishness, pure and simple. Her next arrow flew with a particularly vicious bite, or so it felt.
Cullen was in the thick of the battle, calling out orders even as he thrust and parried. He had forgotten how much he loved this, he thought, trying to dwell in the fierce joy of battle and forget that the people he was fighting had been friends and compatriots not that long ago. If he stopped to think, stopped to try to recognize a fighting style or a stance, he wouldn't be able to continue.
One of his men caught his arm in the midst of a lull. "Commander, look!"
He followed the line of the soldier's outstretched arm to see someone he didn't recognize fighting the Red Templars—an elf, in some kind of golden armor that glinted in the sun. The elf moved with an almost unbelievable speed, darting amongst the Red Templars.
"There's another one!"
There was. Several more, Cullen could see. And then, with a sickening drop of his stomach, he saw that the elves weren't just fighting Red Templars—they were going after his men, too.
The soldier shuddered. "Looks like this temple isn't deserted after all."
"Maybe that's why so few return from the Arbor Wilds," Cullen answered. He waved his sword. "Inquisition! 'Ware the elves!" He felt badly for the simplicity of the statement, not wishing to seem to call into question the trustworthiness of the Inquisition's elven soldiers, but in battle brevity was a necessity.
And then the battle was three-sided, the elves and the Red Templars and the Inquisition taking each other on. Cullen grew overheated, throwing his cape over the nearest tree branch, feeling the sword as an extension of his arm, the ease of it coming back to him. He didn't let the rhythm of the fight distract him from his command, however, watching his men, signaling one to flank a Templar and another to counter the movement of an elf, even as he found the weakness in the armor of the Templar he faced and sank his sword deep into his opponent's chest. He pulled it out again, not looking as the Templar fell, not wanting to watch.
He heard a familiar voice next to him. "Can you hold?"
Looking down, he saw the Inquisitor there. He hadn't even noticed him approach—the Inquisitor could give the spies lessons in stealth, he sometimes thought. "Yes. We will hold."
"You're certain?"
"We will not fail you, Inquisitor. We will end this here if it can possibly be done."
"From your mouth to the Maker's ears, my friend."
"Maker go with you."
Cullen watched as the Inquisitor moved on ahead, his party hurrying behind him, and said a silent prayer to Andraste to guide them in the task ahead of them, to strengthen them against Corypheus, and to bring an end to this so that they could all rest. He would like to rest, he thought suddenly, as yet another person wearing the reddened mockery of what he had once considered to be sacred armor came toward him. But he raised his sword and met the Red Templar with a ring of steel on steel.