The mages have agreed

They will be indentured to my father

Time is of the essence

We are out of options

Felix

Dorian read the message that came at the break of dawn, staring at the letters over and over until they were no longer words but rather nonsensical symbols. It had only been two days after they had spoken when the raven sat expectantly by a nearby branch. Not nearly enough time to figure out how to stop Alexius and whatever this Venatori planned. In fact, he barely had enough time to sleep, leaving him a winking mess as he struggled to find a way to maneuver his way around this madness.

There had to be something.

The sun rose unabashedly, like a sword raised and ready to pierce. As Dorian pulled himself together, it was becoming clearer and clearer that the most reliable option would be to face Alexius head on. Whether or not he could surpass him in battle was the least of his worries. The man had a whole party with him that could easily overtake Dorian once he even attempted to make a move. Not to mention he had just gained an entire rebellion of agitated mages. But there was no way he could let Felix down now, not when they were so close to the truth. With a satisfying swallow of wine and bread, Dorian stood up decidedly and made his way into the village.

Shit.

Even if the letter hadn't been sent, there was no mistaking the sudden appearance of Tevinter guards posted about the village. It was particularly busy as mages bustled back and forth as the news of the Tevinter's protection spread. He had to be very careful, sticking to the shadows and out of the main tavern area where it appeared that most of the talks and decisions were made. Of course, there was Redcliffe castle as well. It loomed across the village with ancient authority, torches always lit and guards posted.

He didn't know much about southern politics, but he did consider it strange that no one truly ran the village. In fact, he had kept away from the castle as it seemed none of the mages went near there. As he tossed a glance in that direction today, the robes the guards wore were distinctly Tevinter. The heraldry however… he had never seen it before, which was saying something as he was still very familiar to nearly all main Tevinter societies.

The castle must have been where they were set up, and where Felix and Alexius must be staying. Constantly hiding behind massive stone walls as they await the arrival of this "Herald of Andraste". The reminder of the moniker made his eyes roll. Some Chantry fanatic, most likely, that put himself forth as the supposed savior against things he clearly had no concept of. Was this really the best Thedas had against this Breach problem?

He hadn't put his mind to it as much, not with his current situation taking most of his time, but the dark swirling mess that sat in the sky did seem like something people should perhaps take note of. But he had no time to worry about that, he barely had his own situation under control let alone the mess going on across the land.

Most of the morning was spent gathering intel, or stalling. Either was probably correct. He had set himself as sundown being the time to see Alexius, unless his guards struck him down before then. In that case, sundown would be his death sentence. While the idea seemed grim, it struck him more as inconvenient. He escaped his life of nobility and comfort to end like this? The intel kept him occupied at least. Most of it was more confirmation however. Alexius had indeed met with Fiona and a few other high mages, agreeing to the indentured servitude that would eventually lead to their freedom after spending years working under him. In response, Alexius would make sure no harm would come to any under the mage rebellion.

Dorian scoffed to himself. Why? Why would he essentially insert himself into this mad war between the mages and templars across Ferelden? Was it truly just a trap for this Herald of Andraste? What could this one man possibly give Alexius that would cause him to go this far? And how did the manipulation of time have to do with this? Just as all these questions raced through his mind, an idea popped in his head. Wait, could he really have…?

Just then, the sound of fighting erupted beside the gate. The guards and the mages raced inside, shouting in fear. The rift. While it had sat mostly quiet as some mages had managed to kill the few demons that came out, it now spat out demons by the minute and quickly overtook the guards as they retreated inside and closed the main gate. Dorian turned to follow suit, ready to retreat into his usual spot until something stilled him.

Shouts of fighting, and the mad screeches of demons as they were defeated. Someone was taking on the rift. Was this the moment? The curiosity had pushed him to slip to the side of the wall where he had found his spot to see the rift from afar before. A bit of climbing and he could make out everything. As he watched, his eyes glittered with interest.

Four people battled back and forth as the demons continued to crawl out of the rift. A woman, dressed in heavy chainmail and gilded with armor that gleamed with a blazing eye. A dwarf with enough chest hair that he could make a rug. He fired heavy bolts into the fray, his weapon quick and powerful. A bald elf stood poised at the edge of the battle, firing precise and sudden spirit attacks. And another elf, dressed in strange leather and paint, placed at the center of the battle with the woman. He was a mage, but he fought in close combat, his staff swinging about and striking with a combination of elemental and physical damage. Dorian tilted his head as he watched intensely. Could one of them be the Herald?

As the fight progressed, Dorian quickly recognized the spots where time sped and slowed. The four visibly noticed as well, realizing what was going on because as one of them stepped into the very areas, they quickly stepped out and proceeded to avoid them. Still, they were not deterred from fighting back.

Soon the battle had come to a close, the last demon splattering into nonexistence. Still the rift sparked, as if ready to spit out more demons. But before he realized what was happening, Dorian watched as the elf in the wild clothes stepped dangerously close to the rift and raised his palm, creating a flash of strange magic that linked between him and the rift. It was incredible. The rift reacted violently, crackling at the connection before snapping shut with another thunderous clap. Dorian let out a soft breath. Gone. It was as if nothing was ever there. The air sat quiet and peaceful as the four sheathed their weapons and approached the gate.

But Dorian had seen enough. He slipped back into Redcliffe, avoiding the main path as the gates began to open to let the strangers in. He could barely keep the excited smile from his face. This was it, this was the moment he needed. If only he could get word to Felix. It mattered not for now, Dorian was sure that Alexius would come forward to meet these people soon. The guards would most likely crowd the tavern and this would give him the chance to hopefully meet with Felix as his father remained distracted.

For the record, Dorian hadn't been wrong after all. On the arrival of these strangers, a plan had bloomed into his mind within his walk back. First step: send word to Felix. Step two: find a way to meet this group of fighters. If the leader of this group was the Herald of Andraste and the group's goal was to stop the Breach, then there was no doubt that the elf with the strange connection to the rifts had to be this Herald. So step three: create a plan with the Herald to spin the tables against Alexius. As for the specifics of that plan, he would leave that for later.

Dorian plopped onto his watchful seat, eyes pointed directly onto the bustling center of Redcliffe. Guess there's no dying for him quite yet.