Beware the Inquisition

Haff sat behind Alfric as the big man inspected each bronze coin before dropping it into his leather pouch. Haff had tried to look menacing. He was a soldier of Kos, after all. The big man in these parts. Haff, Alfric and Gorm the archer were all soldiers, so they kept saying. And it was only their blades (dull and rusted as they were) that kept rebel apostates and Avvar savages and rabid Templars from burning the whole place down.

Soldiers, yeah. That's what they were. Haff didn't feel a soldier, he felt a thief. So he'd given up looking menacing and took to looking at his horse's braided mane. So he wouldn't have to look at the broken old man before him.

Old Wallem stood in his doorway and clutched at his wide-brimmed hat with veined and callused hands. Farmer's hands. His sun-beaten face hugged his neck and his eyes glared at the dirt. He was a proud man, Haff knew. But brought low.

There was nothing so awkward as this. Haff caught himself snatching glances at the miserable old farmer. He and Gorm were mounted on tough Fereldan ponies while Alfric counted out the . . . what would you call it? Tribute? Protection money? Stolen coin, that's what it was. Old Wallem's farm was their third stop that day and it hadn't gotten easier.

That'd be you. if you weren't sitting here, with Alfric and Gorm, you'd be there. If you weren't taking the coin, you'd be giving it. Remember that, Haff. So sit on your horse and look menacing.

He could hear Wallem's wife and son inside, whispering together. Hissed curses, Haff didn't doubt.

'Good man.' Alfric said finally. He tied his leather pouch to his belt. 'We'll be back next month.'

Alfric swung up and onto his gelding with practiced ease.

Wallem turned away and, still clutching his hat, moved to join his family inside.

'A little gratitude would be nice.' Sly Gorm grinned.

Wallem's step faltered. He stood, swaying slightly, Haff almost wanted him to refuse. Don't sacrifice that last bit of pride. Thanks for robbing me. Haff glanced at Gorm and felt a flush of hatred then for his friend. Hating himself, more like.

His back to them, Wallem murmured a thanks.

'What's that?' Gorm leaned forward in his saddle. 'I dinna hear you.'

'Leave him be, Gorm.' Alfric's beard twitched with annoyance. 'Let's be off.'

'Oh aye.' The archer shrugged. 'I'm not one to press a point.'

'You're nothing but thieves!' Wallem's eldest, Tir burst from the house. He pushed past his father and raised a fist at Gorm. 'Thieves!'

Gorm sniggered. Bristling with angry muscle, Tir shook his father off and glowered furiously at the three riders.

'Get your boy inside, Wallem." Alfric rested one gloved hand on the pommel of his sword. "'Fore he gets you into trouble."

"I'm not scared of you!' Tir said as his mother too now attempted to wrestle the lad back inside. 'You and your boss! Cowards, the lot of you!'

Alfric sighed. He looked to be settling himself into violence and Haff wasn't keen on joining him.

'Go inside, Tir.' Haff realised he was almost pleading.

'And you! Haff!' Tir punched a fist towards him. 'We were neighbours! Now you rob us! You were always a little shit.'

A sudden rage inside Haff's chest and he spat on the ground. 'Did I get your charity when bandits burned us out of our home? Were we neighbours then, Tir?'

'We all had troubles.' Tir wrestled his parents. 'It was a hard time for us too.'

Haff lifted the sleeve of his tunic to reveal the rippling burns that scarred him. His desperate crawl through a burning house. Charcoal, they called him now. 'You knew. You just didn't care.'

'If it weren't for us, you'd be dead too lad and your ma would have to share her bed with an Avvar savage or worse.' Gorm sneered.

'Enough!" Alfric barked and Gorm flinched a little; the big man had a temper that you didn't want to poke. He clicked his tongue and his speckled gelding pushed forward. Tir stumbled backwards to avoid being knocked over.

'Here's the rule.' Alfric growled. 'You pay your dues, we keep the peace. That's all of it. That's fair. Now, you're unhappy with that, boy. I see that. I'll give you a choice. A fair choice. You tell me now. You tell me you're not happy. Tell me loud. And I'll kill you. In front of your folks. And that'll be the end of it.' Alfric gripped his sword with his meaty fist.

'Go ahead.'

Tir was shaking. His mother was whispering harried prayers to Andraste, his father gripped him so tightly he'd be bruised tomorrow. Gorm had shrugged his bow off his shoulder and fingered the feathers of an arrow. Haff had his axe but his own hands were stubbornly clutching the reins. Don't do it. Don't say it.

Tir lowered his eyes.

'Alright.' Alfric slowly withdrew his hand. 'I'll see you next month then.'

'And give us a smile, next time!' Gorm added as they turned to leave. He bellowed a laugh through cracked and blackened teeth

'Ignore that sniveling shit.' Gorm said to Haff, once they'd returned to the road. 'We ain't robbin' anyone. Kos is the power here now. Rulers need taxes.'

Haff didn't reply. He was thinking about how casual Alfric had sounded. About to murder.

'Used to be King Alistair was the ruler but the Bastard let too many of those damned apostates in and now good men have to step up.' Gorm continued. 'I won't have any farmer's son tellin' me I'm a thief. We'll see where he runs when there are bandits at his father's door.'

'True enough. It's Kos that keeps the Avvar in their mountains.' Alfric called over his shoulder. He set his gelding to a brisk trot. Haff's eyes roved over the lush trees that framed the dirt road. Dappled shadows played over the tall grass. The sun was high yet winter's chill glazed the day's heat and Haff was glad for his cloak. Beautiful place, Ferelden.

Funny that all that horrible shit could happen here.

'These farmers pay so we protect them.' Alfric continued. 'If we weren't here, it'd be worse for them.'

'Aye.' Haff said. 'I know.'

Gorm slapped Haff's back and the archer winked. 'But there's nothin' wrong with havin' a bit of fun with them!'

Haff looked into the black holes between his friend's rotting teeth and remembered the thick smoke as his home burned up. His father, caught under a beam, screaming at Haff to go. Crawl. Just go.

'All the same.' Alfric turned in his saddle and gazed at Gorm. 'You didn't help matters any.'

'I wasna tryin' to help.' Gorm laughed. 'He's lucky we're not in Denerim. He'd get more than a stern talking to. He'd get an extra, bloody smile from ear to ear.' And Gorm traced a thumb across his dirty throat with a wink at Haff.

Alfric shook his head wearily and looked once more to the road. The day grew colder as they rode through the shadows of the trees.

Haff watched a flock of sheep stream across the bright green hills. The shepherd girl directed her sheepdog with sharp whistles and he sprinted after his charges. Birds twittered in the trees that framed the road.

Gorm took a swig of water and offered the same to Haff. He drank deeply as a squat tower slowly peeked from behind a thick copse of trees.

Home. Or, as close as he'd had since his dad died.

The Finger, Kos' men called it. A solitary tower, the top floor caved in with the roof. Used perhaps by the Imperium when the magisters still ruled Thedas.

'Maferath's arse!' Gorm whooped. 'We're home!' Haff was surprised to find a smile on his own face too. Home. A crumbling ruin. But a roof and a meal. And that was enough.

The road was wider here and the grass beaten into retreat. The tower stood alone but for the tents spread beneath its shadow for there were plenty of warriors wanted to follow Kos. The great roots of the Frostback Mountains rose behind the Finger.

They passed a line of shackled elves. The captives shambled along the road, flanked by Kos' warriors and led by the cruel Hortens. The Antivan combed his manicured beard and clasped Alfric's offered hand as he passed.

'What's this?' Alfric gestured towards the elves. Haff could no more than glance at the wretched knife-ears. Beaten and bloodied. Manacled together.

Hortens smiled and twisted the tip of his deep black beard into a point.

'We found them hiding in the forest.'

'They're not Dalish.' Gorm examined a limping elf at the head of the column.

'City Elves.' Hortens placed his comb into its sheath. 'Fled from the fighting, like the cowards they are.'

'And what will you do with them?' Alfric asked.

'Sell them.' Hortens smiled. 'The Templars are always looking for . . . cheap labour.'

Alfric and Gorm shared a look. 'Kos is doin' deals with those Red Templars now?' Alfric asked slowly. 'Is that wise?'

'Why don't you ask him?' Hortens grinned. 'I'm sure he'd love your counsel.'

'Bring the Inquisition down on us.' Gorm hissed to Alfric.

An elf-woman fell and Hortens' warrior kicked her savagely until her fellows were able to drag her up. Haff couldn't disguise his frown.

'Are you sad, Charcoal?' Hortens sneered. 'You feel for the poor elves?'

Haff glared at the Antivan fop. 'We don't have slaves in Ferelden.' He said and even Gorm, bred in the slums of Denerim nodded proudly.

'Principled bandits.' Hortens chuckled. 'What have you been teaching the boy, Alfric?'

Haff bristled but Alfric quieted him with a glare. 'We'll leave you to it, Hortens.'

'Don't hate me, Charcoal!' The Antivan called as they rode on. 'Talk to Kos, I'm sure he will understand your pity. We'll start our own little alienage here.'

Haff's ears burned and he fingered the dagger slipped through his belt.

'Red Templars.' Sly Gorm grimaced. 'We're fucked, Alfric. Always the way, these bastards get greedy.'

'Kos should be thinking about his pet apostate.' Alfric replied in a low voice. 'The Templars will kill Goose without a thought.'

'What are Red Templars?' Haff asked and Gorm shushed him. 'You stay out of it, Haff. See to the horses with your little friend.'

Alfric and Gorm both wore scowls as they dismounted and walked to the tower. Haff led the horses to the stables.

'Haff!" Lilly scattered squealing piglets as she took the reins of Alfric's mare. 'You look sour.'

Haff managed a smile for the young elf. He glanced quickly back towards the road, where Hortens now approached the Finger with the captured elves. No need for Lilly to see her people abused so.

'Help me with the horses, would you?'

'You missed the excitement.' Lilly brushed Haff's gelding.

'What's that?' Haff asked. He took a shovel to the manure with a sigh.

'Templars!' Lilly's smile just about reached her pointed ears. 'Here! At the Finger!'

'Proper Templars?' Haff asked.

'They were wearing the armour and all.' Lilly shrugged. 'But they were an odd sort. I know Templars are supposed to be grim but these were sort of . . . twitchy.' And Lilly giggled. 'Like they had spiders in their smallclothes.'

'I thought the Templars were finished." Haff frowned. 'With the mage rebellion. They went mad and started killing apostates.'

Lilly shrugged. 'I don't know about all that. I don't think it's mad to kill apostates though. They're dangerous.' Her voice dropped to a whisper. 'I don't even like Kos' mage. That creepy old Goose.'

'What did they want, anyway?' Haff asked.

Lilly's huge eyes swept the empty stables. 'Castor Blackhands told me Kos is doing a deal with them. Letting them travel through his lands.'

Haff washed his face in the bucket set beside the stall. 'Where does a blacksmith get all his gossip? I thought Kos wanted to keep the Finger out of all that. I heard he was looking to ask King Alistair to be made an arl.'

'Then we'd be Ferelden again!' Lilly said. She led old Grey into her stall.

Haff brushed himself off. 'How's your ma?'

'Well enough. Sick in the mornings though.' And Haff watched a frown crease the elf's forehead.

'I'll talk to Alfric.' Haff told her. 'Get a healer in from Footscrow.'

'Thanks." Lilly smiled and took Haff's hand. They walked outside together and too late, Haff remembered.

'Hello little Lily Knife-Ears!" Hortens called. 'Are any of these fine elves your cousins?'

Lilly's eyes dropped to stare at her bare feet and she clasped her hands together. Ever the obedient elf.

Hortens hitched his belt and swaggered towards them. His men led the captured elves behind the Finger.

'Get back to your chores.' Haff whispered to Lilly. The girl flitted away.

Hortens watched her leave. 'You don't appreciate my humour, do you, Charcoal?'

Haff pushed past the Antivan. Though the man wore heeled, leather boots they were the same height.

'You're not funny.' Haff muttered. 'You're just cruel.'

'Life is cruel, Charcoal!' Hortens shouted after him. 'That's what's funny!'

Haff found Sly Gorm sitting by the fire in the hall. He slurped broth from a wooden bowl. Sensey lounged on the bench opposite. She polished her cuirass with a cloth whilst her sister, Cal shaved the sides of Sensey's head with a razor.

'Where's Alfric?' Haff asked. Gorm passed him a bowl and Haff set into it greedily.

'Got to see Kos, don't he?" Gorm spluttered through his missing teeth. 'Give him his taxes.'

Sensey ran a hand along the side of her head and nodded approvingly.

'You see Hortens got a few knife-ears?' Gorm asked.

Sensey shrugged. 'Nope. Not too hard though, is it? Plenty of elves run off.'

'Looks to be thinkin' we'll be givin' 'em to the Red Templars.' Gorm continued.

The sisters shared a glance. 'Oh aye? What's that to do with us?'

Gorm stirred his broth with his spoon. 'Interestin' is all.'

'Keep out of it.' Cal handed Sensey the razor and cocked her head expectantly. 'The chief knows what he's doing. He's about to be made an arl.'

'I don't know if that'll happen when King Alistair finds out he's been dealin' with Red Templars. Don't the Inquisition hate those bastards?' Gorm asked.

'The Inquisition?' Sensey snorted and Cal winced at the sudden twitch of the razor. 'Heretics.'

'With an army and marching through Ferelden.' Gorm added.

'An army of elves and peasants.' Cal dismissed him.

'Won't be long before the Chantry crushes them.' Sensey added.

'Imagine, bringing the Inquisition back without so much as a say so from the Chantry.' Cal said and her sister nodded sagely. 'It'll end in an Exalted March, you'll see. Once a new Divine is elected.'

'And we'll be there.' Sensey added. 'Fighting for Andraste and the Maker.'

Haff finished his broth and took a swig of Gorm's watered wine.

'Bloody hell, you two are devout.' Gorm tried to include Haff in his incredulity. 'No Maker in the gutter, I'll tell you that.'

'Or in burning houses.' Haff added and Gorm gave him a sympathetic slap on the shoulder.

'Get some sleep, lad.' Gorm told him. 'You'll be on the watch tonight.'

'I just got back today!' Haff exclaimed.

'That's Alfric's word, not mine. Go kick the big man if you don't like it.'

Sensey and Cal's teasing laughter buffeted Haff as he climbed the old stairs to the first floor.

Haff threw his cloak around his shoulders and looped his axe through his belt. Gorm lay curled on his straw bed, slack-jawed and drooling. Haff kicked some life into his legs and jogged down the stairs. Harrod sat at the table and fletched arrows.

'Ho there, young fellow.' Harrod yawned. 'Watch?'

'Aye.' Haff agreed.

'Cold out there tonight.' Harrod returned his attention to his arrows.

The great door was ajar but Haff made instead for the kitchen. He found Fat Thom cooling loaves of bread by the huge ovens.

The old man smiled. 'Thought I'd see you.'

He nodded towards the bread. Haff smiled wordlessly and took a basket up. He wrapped a few loaves of bread in a blanket and rubbed Thom's bald-head once on his way out.

Haff cut through the pig's area and tiptoed through the slosh. The fat sow grunted eagerly and Haff dodged around her.

He found the slaves in a shivering huddle, propped against the cold stone wall of the Finger. Chained to the wall with barely a blanket to share between them. Haff grimaced. He let drop the basket before the wretched elves. They blinked at him with huge eyes.

'I'll find you another blanket.' Haff murmured.

'Please.' An elf woman crawled forward. 'What becomes of us?' Her fellows took the bread with desperate smiles and hugged the warm loaves to their chests.

'You are to be sold to the Templars.' Haff whispered.

He could not watch their misery. Haff turned away and trudged through the frosted grass.

'Charcoal.' Hortens materialised suddenly from the darkness. The Antivan wore his cruel smile. 'What are you doing out here? Befriending more elves?'

'I have the watch tonight.' Haff said, his hand inching towards his axe.

'Are you lost?' Hortens scoffed. 'The watchtower Is entirely the other way.'

Haff watched the man. The Antivan smiled ravenously.

'Stay away from me.' Haff told him finally.

'I try.' The Antivan chuckled. 'But we seem to find each other.'

Haff wrapped himself in his cloak and braced against the freezing wind. The wooden watchtower seemed to sway. Haff kept one gloved hand clutching his axe and the other tucked into his padded gambeson. He rocked on his heels and edged closer to the lantern that swung now in the wind.

He watched tiny bats flit across the bright stars. The Finger stood silently behind him. And the thatch-roofed homes of Footscrow clustered around the stone chantry that marked the village's centre. The skeleton of new houses on the outskirts. People kept coming. Kos might be an arl before long.

Haff rubbed the scarred skin that traced across his neck. He tightened his hood and sighed into the wind.

Footsteps broke the frost below. Haff peered down the ladder.

A cloaked figure climbed upwards. Haff almost, almost, not quite, uttered a small prayer of thanks to the Maker. Sleep.

Hortens grinned as he stepped up.

'Charcoal!' The Antivan exclaimed. 'We meet again. I am here to replace you. Time for sleep. Well-earned!'

'Thanks.' Haff grunted.

'Oh but I forget.' Hortens clutched his head in apparent shock. 'First you will wash the knife-ears. Kos wants them presentable for the Templars.'

'How am I supposed to wash them?' Haff demanded.

'Take them down to the river. Sensey will help you.'

'It is freezing. That can wait until sunrise.'

'Now little Charcoal knows better than Kos himself?' Hortens feigned indignation. 'Do what you are told, boy.'

'They will die if I force them to wash in that water. There is ice in the river.' Haff said.

Hortens sighed. 'Then wait until the morning. But do not blame me if Kos is annoyed at the delay.'

Haff glared at the Antivan.

Hortens leaned against the railing and smiled. 'You are adorable, little Charcoal, even with that ghastly scar. You can find the slaves in the crypt.'

'The crypt?' Haff demanded. 'Why?'

'Because I thought it'd be funny.'

Haff balled his fists and Hortens gestured towards the ladder, supremely unconcerned. 'Go on.'

'Why are you such a bastard?' Haff demanded.

Hortens scoffed. 'You Ferelden are so blunt and provincial. I am no more a bastard than you, Charcoal. I'm just honest about it.'

'I'm not cruel like you.'

'Oh, you smuggled a bit of bread you didn't bake to the elves and you're one of Andraste's Chosen?' Hortens leaned against the railing. 'Why don't you free them instead?'

Haff felt his face flush and thanked the dark. 'Kos would kill me.'

'Take them now. Cut through their chains with your axe and lead them out of here. I won't say anything.' He tapped the bell. 'I swear.'

'And go where?'

Hortens threw his arms up in mock exasperation. 'You see? You're being practical, instead of good. Excuses, excuses. It's alright. I'm the same. I just don't hide behind fake kindness.'

'If I weren't here, I'd be dead.'

'True.' Hortens nodded slowly. 'But that doesn't mean you're good.'

Haff opened his mouth to negate this but found he had no defence. It was the truth. The plain truth, miserable as the elves in the crypt. Sharp as the axe in Haff's hand. Haff began his descent, shame-faced and defeated.

When he caught the sudden twang of an arrow loosed.

'What was-' Hortens stumbled backwards, clutching at his throat. The Antivan coughed blood onto the wooden deck. Haff scrambled for the bell. Another arrow skittered off the railing and then a crossbow bolt sunk into a wooden post between Haff and the bell.

Haff crawled back to the ladder and stumbled down it.

'Shit shit shit shit shit shit.' He chanted.

Another arrow flew past his head. Haff leapt the final rungs and landed heavily on his knees. Haff scrambled to his feet and ran, the frost crunching under his boots.

'Enemies!' Haff shrieked.

Cloak streaming behind him, breath hoarse in his ears and his heart threatening to break his chest, Haff ran.

The Finger seemed a distant miniature across a yawning chasm of open ground. Running steps behind. Another arrow loosed and pierced the grass ahead.

'Enemies!' Haff wheezed. Figures in the shadowed doorway.

Haff waved his arms desperately. 'To arms!' He coughed.

Finally the slow toll of the bell. Haff glanced behind. Hortens had dragged himself up somehow but as Haff watched, the Antivan was struck again and this time toppled over the railing. Kos' warriors were streaming out of the Finger now. Clad in chainmail, hefting swords, shields and axes. Alfric's roar but Haff's own gasping wheeze drowned the words.

Arrows loosed. Haff saw Gorm now, gesturing furiously.

Haff fell in and Gorm dragged him behind. Haff collapsed to the ground and retched.

'Into lines!' Alfric shouted. Gorm slapped Haff's back and drew another arrow.

Haff dragged himself up the wall. He realised he had somehow kept hold of his axe.

There were over a dozen of them there, flanking the doorway. Haff peered through the warriors before him. He could see figures moving through the gloom. A hulking giant. With horns.

'Is that a Qunari?' Someone hissed.

A tingling on Haff's skin. Like the air just before a storm. A taste of lightning on his tongue. And then a flash. Thick tendrils of crackling energy lanced Alfric's line. Warriors fell, convulsing and shrieking.

A mage.

The Qunari charged their line with a roar like an avalanche. The creature hefted a great axe that looked thicker than Haff himself. One-eyed, naked to the waist. The ox-man swung his axe in a sweeping arc and tore through Mariss. He was almost torn clean in half.

A scarred woman in the armour of a Templar rolled out from behind the Qunari. Juke's hesitant swing. She angled her shield and Juke's fearful blow bounced off. One deft slice was all it took. Juke was opened at the neck, just above his mail hauberk.

Arrows peppered their lines. Haff clutched his axe with unfeeling fingers. His mouth hung slack as a third warrior broke through the crumbling line. Bright eyes peered through a narrow helm. Long blonde hair streamed from beneath the cheek guards, the wings of a dragon in flight.

Haff raised his axe. Charge! Charge, come on. Move! His legs were sluggish and he could only stagger forward, swinging his axe. His opponent dodged this weak attack, she was faster. Haff swung again, the axe catching the rim of the warrior's shield. Haff tried to yank it back but his enemy was stronger and Haff found himself pulled forward. He staggered away and knocked into someone.

An elf. Bow slung across her back and a bloody knife in each hand. She glared at him, apparently indignant.

"Oi." She said. "That was rude." Ferelden accent. She punched Haff once with the pommel of her dagger and he fell. Blood gushing from his nose, Haff crawled desperately until he hit the wall.

'Quick!' Gorm. Gripping his arm. Pulling him away. 'Inside!'

Haff stumbled into the Finger. Alfric and three others pushed the great doors shut as the Qunari flung Harrod bodily against the wall.

The Qunari shuddered towards them. Haff stumbled up and pushed the doors shut.

'Archers!' Alfric was already barricading the door. 'Up onto the first floor!'

Gorm led those few racing towards the stairs.

'Who are these monsters?"'Sensey gasped.

'Inquisition.' Kos appeared on the stairs. Flanked by his servant, the faithful mage, Goose. The old wizard clutched his wicked staff, surmounted with an obsidian spear. Kos was already clad in his plate armour. The chief moved swiftly down the stairs.

'I told you, Kos!' Alfric brandished a fist at the great man. 'I told you we'd make an enemy of the Inquisition with those Templars!'

Their chief drew his blade but did not reply.

Haff saw Lilly with her mother and the other servants crouched by the low door to the servant quarters. He tried for a reassuring smile but there was blood in his mouth.

The great doors shuddered.

The chief gazed about him with those hard eyes. Eyes that had seen Ostagar and Denerim both. Now flickering with fear.

Eight warriors still standing and that included himself. Gorm and a few others on the first floor of the tower. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

The door quaked and dust from the ceiling settled in Alfric's dark hair.

Haff watched cracks forming in the wood. More magic.

'What are we going to do?' Cal demanded.

'We need to get out of here.' Her sister, Sensey said. 'The Inquisition will execute us as bandits.'

Finally, Kos' dark eyes found the servants clustered on the floor.

'Where are the slaves?' He demanded.

'In the crypt.' Alfric panted. 'Hortens brought them inside.'

Kos looked to Goose. 'Can you do it?' He asked in a low voice.

The mage nodded jerkily. 'I-I can.'

'Haff.' Kos said. 'Take Goose.' Haff stared at his chief. He looked to Alfric. The big man nodded once.

Kos tossed a heavy key to Haff and he fumbled for it.

'Wait.' Sensey held a hand up. ''Why? What is your plan?'

'I plan to save our lives.' Kos growled. 'Do not question me!'

'Blood magic, is it?' Cal came to stand beside her sister.

Kos gripped his sword. 'Yes.' Goose dabbed at the sweat beading his wrinkled forehead.

'That's heresy!' Sensey shouted.

'You can't kill those elves.' Cal gripped her knife. 'It's wrong.'

Kos towered over the sisters. 'You want to die? You said it yourself. We're bandits, all of us. This is our last hope.'

'It's still wrong.' Sensey said.

'And dead is still dead.' Kos turned away.

'Haff.' Alfric barked. 'The slaves!'

Haff and Goose rushed down the narrow circular staircase. A single guttering flame mounted on the wall held against the shadows. Goose's staff echoed against the stone steps. The mage was murmuring half-remembered spells to himself in the Tevinter language. Not a language that should be uttered in the dark.

The slaves were shackled to the floor in the centre of the ancient room.

'What is happening?' The elf woman asked.

The tower shuddered with a sudden explosion. Haff knew the door, thick as it was wouldn't last much longer. And the Inquisition was almost inside.

'What's happening up there?' An elf demanded.

'Are you going to kill them?' Haff whispered to Goose. The old mage seemed to stare through him.

'I can save us.' He muttered. 'Use your knife.'

'What are you doing?' The elf woman shielded the children.

'Your knife, your knife.' Goose flapped his hands irritably at Haff. 'Slit their throats. I need the blood.'

Haff stared at the old mage. His fingers, almost as though they had their own will, crept towards the knife in his belt.

'Quickly, boy.'

Haff's breath was loud in his ears. His heart hammered at his ribs. Haff swung his axe, caught Goose across the face. The old man did not have time to even scream. He collapsed into a heap on the stone floor.

Haff took the key with shaking fingers. The elves were staring at him. He unlocked the rusted padlock and threw it aside.

'The Inquisition is here.' Haff stammered. 'You should hide.' He raced back up the stairs, axe in hand

Carnage and terror. The walls rang with the clash of sword against axe. The shrieks and cries of the fallen. The floor already slick with blood.

Kos traded blows with the huge Qunari and the hall was their stage. Lesser mortals ran from their path. A Tevinter mage was laughing gaily as he unleashed a storm; clouds roiled across the ceiling and lightning struck the walls and floors in sudden bursts.

Haff was, somehow still alive. He and Alfric had dueled a warrior clad in shining plate mail. They dodged around him, chipping at his heavy armour until a dark-skinned mage, peculiarly though beautifully bald had appeared suddenly in an outfit of Orlesian excess. She had swept her staff and gossamer threads of winter snow had coalesced around Haff and Alfric both. Haff dove out of the way, as freezing air rippled across his face but Alfric caught the magic in his chest. He was frozen to a wall.

Gorm stood on the stairs and loosed arrows at the woman in the dragon helmet. She sheltered behind her shield and Gorm screamed abuse.

Haff saw him. A dwarf armed with a bizarre crossbow readied his own shot.

"Gorm!" Haff screamed.

The bolt took Gorm through the middle. Slammed into the stairs behind.

Haff fell to his knees. A moment. A pained, surprised smile on Gorm's sly face. And he toppled as a tree. Crashed down the stairs.

Haff sprinted through the battle. He slid around Sensey and Cal and their frenzied attack against a pale boy who seemed somehow to flit around them, quick and nimble as a hummingbird.

Haff caught Gorm on the stairs.

Neck twisted.

Eyes staring at the ceiling.

Gorm's bow clattered to the stone floor.

"Hey kid." The dwarf. His face was clean-shaven and that shocked Haff more than the crossbow now aimed at his throat.

"He was my friend." Haff croaked. Tears pricked at his eyes. He barely saw the crossbow that was ready to end him.

"I know, kid." The dwarf smiled kindly. "But he was trying to kill my friend."

Haff cradled Gorm's head in his lap.

"Why don't you drop that axe? It's all finished." The dwarf gestured behind him. Sensey and Cal knelt on the floor. Kos lay crumpled at the huge boots of the Qunari. Alfric shook uncontrollably, ice spread across his chest and pinning him to the wall. These few survivors. Haff saw Lilly peering from behind a column. As the elves emerged cautiously from the crypt.

The ox-man examined a tear through his left forearm appreciatively.

'Another scar.' The Tevinter mage remarked.

'Gives me character.' The big Qunari said, a wry smile twisting his scarred face.

'You might have too much.' The Vint laughed.

'Your axe.' The dwarf reminded Haff gently.

Haff let his axe go. The mad elf-woman who had smashed him in the face with her dagger sat down on Kos' splayed body.

'Right.' She said, matter-of-factly. 'Where should we hang him up? And what should I draw on his face?'

'We're not hanging anyone up.' The scarred woman sheathed her sword and looked at the elf with clear exasperation.

'You need to let people know the big bad bastard is dead!'

'Absolutely not.'

"You're the Inquisition?" Haff asked the dwarf.

He laughed. A throaty sort of laugh. Friendly and unabashed. "I know."

Haff sat in the dark. He gazed at the dark bars to his cell. Sensey lay on the floor opposite, staring at the ceiling.

"They're going to execute us." She spoke. Her voice cracked with the effort. Never enough food and never enough water. And Haff didn't suppose it mattered which dungeon you were imprisoned in for that to be true.

Cal leaned against the bars of her own cell. "It wasn't our fault Kos made a deal with mad Templars."

"But we knew about it." Sensey argued. "That's all they need. Who's goin' to mourn us anyway? Think the Bastard King will come marchin' up here to demand we're released? What does he care? Three less bandits."

Haff had already suffered through this same conversation a dozen times and turned onto his side. He watched a spider skitter along the wall.

Alfric.

Dead on the road. Tried to run and shot down.

Gorm.

Mariss.

Harrod.

Hortens.

Even great old Kos himself who'd fought a hundred battles and never fallen.

Dead.

Haff's own father. Seemed the world was misery.

A long time in a dank cell gave you a lot of time to think. So much Haff wanted to tear his thoughts right out of his head. But he was stuck with himself.

The door to their new home slid thickly against the stone floor. Haff rolled over. Bit of bread and water. That's how he measured his day. Bread and water in the morning. And again at night.

The dwarf with the crossbow. And alone. He hitched his thumbs into his belt and peered at Haff through the bars. Haff noticed he sported a great quantity of hair sprouting from his chest.

'Here you are. And still alive.'

Haff pushed himself up.

Sensey and Cal watched curiously.

'When are we to be executed?' Haff asked, uncaring.

The dwarf raised his bushy brows. 'You seem a bit eager, kid.'

'Nothing I can do about it.' Haff shrugged.

'The Inquisitor isn't too keen on execution.' The dwarf admitted.

'Let us go then.' Sensey said boldly.

The dwarf chuckled appreciatively. 'She's not keen letting bandits keep on banditing either.'

'Kill us or don't!' Cal stood and slammed a fist against the bars so the metal howled. 'Keeping us locked in here!'

'Do you think you deserve better?' The dwarf asked. 'Led a virtuous life, have you?'

Cal kept her lips pursed and scowled.

'Your man Kos.' The dwarf mused. 'Not a good guy. Suppose you didn't know about the deals with the Red Templars? The slavery? And the blood magic?'

'We know he was a shit!' Sensey swore. 'But when you're starving and a shit offers you work and a meal, it doesn't stink so bad.'

'Not bad at all.' Cal added.

'And better than starving to death.' Sensey finished.

'Listen, Razor.' The dwarf raised a meaty fist. 'I've seen plenty of people do terrible things and they all have a reason. It's never good enough. I'm not here to hug out your miserable past with you. You did work for a slaver and a thief who looked to carve a piece of Ferelden out for himself. And maybe he seemed pretty grand to you but to us here he wasn't any better than the meanest Darktown killer.'

'What's the difference between your Inquisitor and Kos?' Cal demanded. 'She got a bigger army?'

'Among other things.' The dwarf smirked. "She's trying to make the world better. And taking your boss down was part of that.'

'You want a thank you?' Sensey asked. 'If you're only here to moralise at us, you can piss off. I'm an Andrastian already.'

I'm here to make an offer.' The dwarf said, fingering the piercing in his ear. 'And you're not making it easy.'

That shut the sisters up quickly enough.

'Right now the Inquisition has a waste-not policy.' The dwarf said. 'We need fighters.'

'Us?' The twins stared at each other incredulously.

'Like I said, there's a waste-not policy. There are more than a few bandits and thieves roaming Skyhold. Some of the best, in fact.'

'Are you recruiting us?' Cal was pressed against the bars now. Sensey stood.

'Could be.' The dwarf said vaguely. 'But we need to know our agents are good folk.'

'We believe in the Maker.' Cal said eagerly.

'So do I but that's not what I meant.' The dwarf gazed at her. 'We're trying to build something here. A force for good. Everyone has to be working for the same goal'

'Then you don't want us.' Haff intoned. 'We're bandits and nothing but. You won't find any honourable folk down here.'

'He doesn't speak for us.' Sensey snapped and Haff was sure if they'd been in the same cell, she would have throttled him.

'Barely know the boy.' Cal added.

'We stole from our neighbours because it was easier.' Haff said. 'Made slaves of those who shouldn't have been. Kos couldn't have done any of it without us.'

'Charcoal!' Sensey hissed.

The dwarf turned his cunning gaze on Haff now.

'You're harder on yourself than others have been.' He said. 'An elf named Lilly told me about a burned warrior in the Finger who was nicer than most and looked out for her. He made sure the prisoners were fed and watered.' The dwarf leaned against the wall. 'Same boy who stopped a blood mage from sacrificing some elven prisoners. I'm looking for him. I think he might be good folk.'

Sensey and Cal shared a grin behind the dwarf's broad back.

'That's him!' Sensey croaked.

'Andraste's Chosen.' Cal nodded fervently.

'We raised him.'

'Like a brother.'

'We tried to stop that blood mage too.'

The dwarf ignored them. He fiddled with a key and eased Haff's cell door open. 'Is that you, kid?'

Haff nodded.

'Good enough for me.' The dwarf held a hand out. 'Name's Varric Tethras.'

Sensey whistled. 'You're the dwarf blew up that chantry in the Free Marches or somethin'.'

Varric frowned. 'Not quite.'

Haff took the dwarf's hand. He groaned as Varric pulled him up.

'I don't deserve this.' Haff told him.

'We all have pasts, kid. Things we'd rather bury deep down where we don't have to think about them.' Varric lay a hand on Haff's back. 'But that's not the way. Trust me, you have to look yourself up and down. And if you don't like the man staring back, then you can change him.'

'How do I do that?'

Varric Tethras shrugged. 'That's on you, kid. All I'm offering is slightly better accommodation. There's a room above the inn. Bit draughty and it get's loud during Saturnalia but you can come and go as you like.'

Haff twisted his cracked lips into a slight smile. 'And my friends?'

Varric turned back to the twins.

They smiled through the bars. As wolves might.

Varric winced. 'That is creepy. I think Cassandra should be able to find a use for them. Let me talk to the Inquisitor. I just have to catch her after breakfast.'

'Get to it then!' Sensey called.

'Aye! I've always believed in this Inquisition! True followers of the Maker and all that.'

Varric guided Haff up the stairs. "Do you prefer 'Haff' or 'Charcoal'?"

'I don't mind." Haff stumbled along, sure at any moment it would all be revealed for a trick, a joke.

I think I like 'Charcoal'. It's a bit dark. Pun intended.' Varric said. He paused before the door. 'Your elf-friend chased me day and night, begging for your release. Prove her right.'

Haff didn't reply. Couldn't reply.

'I know you only did what you did to survive.' Varric said. 'Good enough for then. Not good enough for now. This is a lofty group. They're righteous. Honestly, it can get a bit intense. You make your choice. I won't blame you if you walk right out of here.'

'I think I'll stay.' Haff said slowly, as though he were still unsure. 'I owe you that.'

'You don't owe me anything, Charcoal. Lilly though.' He tapped a strong finger into Haff's chest. 'You might owe her more than a bit.'

'I do.'

'Then, I've said my part.' Varric pushed the door open and Haff shielded his eyes against the sudden burst of daylight. 'Welcome to the Inquisition.'