After about a month and a half, Josephine felt that Mehenion was ready enough for his first mission. Day in day out of studying the language by both reading and writing and talking had helped Mehenions communication immeasurably. Ofcourse, there were flaws. He still didn't really conjugate every verb correctly or he had to search for his words, but since they had a breach to seal and a world to save, she begrudgingly agreed to let him learn most of the language "on the go."
Besides the lessons to master the language, there were also the lessons on Thedas history, the chant of light and etiquette. Mehenion really seemed to enjoy the history lessons. Outside the lessons he was usually found with a book and a tea in the tavern, or found to talk to the Elven apostate. And as much as he loved history and the etiquette lessons, he almost despised the chantry sisters way of teaching the chant of light.
He understood its importance. Many of Thedas were firm believers and he would at least need to have a firm understanding of what the chantry teachings meant for people in the day to day lives. "It is as if they want to...change...me...but it is not my believe." They heard the boy complain to Solas once. Thus the best thing they felt they could do, was to go back to the scholastic approach and teach the chant of light as a piece of history, a piece of history that was undeniably entwined with every Thedasian, from the poorest to the most Royal. The boy, however didn't trust the chantry, nor did he like the name "Inquisition" for reasons that were yet unknown. In this, the elven apostate didn't help... at all.
But the more they got to know him, the more able he was into making himself understandable, the more of an argumentative spirit came to surface, along with that scholastic spirit they already saw in the lessons. And when he wasn't with his nose in some book or listening to people's stories around Haven, he was practicing. All kept a prying eye on the boy, waiting until he would be ready to do what they had planned for him. He would be the figurehead of the Inquisition. The Herald of Andraste and to be "The knight on shining steed" as he jokingly put it. He would break the mage rebellion, put the templars to heel, gain important allies and most important of all: "stitch the sky".
Mehenion was walking to the war room in the back of the chantry, accompanied by Cassandra. "Does it trouble you?" She asked when she saw him staring at his hand. "It's fine...it's just...it did not do what needed when needed. It did not close the breach." He answered truthfully. "Solas believes a second attempt might work, but the mark needs more power. The same power used to open the breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by." Mehenion smiled. "I'm guessing not.. But...you have an idea, do you not?" He asked. "We do." Cassandra said, pointedly.
She introduced him to the advisors of the war table. He'd seen all of them by now. He didn't have much of a conversation with Leliana yet, but he had talked to Cullen near the smithee and asked for some pointers and Cullen had happily obliged, even though he was more of a sword and shield kind of warrior. And Josephine was of course heavily invested in his lessons. She had taught him how to walk the walk and talk the talk. She had taught him how to address a noble and how most certainly NOT to address a noble.
But now, things would become more serious. Commander Cullen commanded the chantry forces, the troops at the Inquisitions disposal. He looked every bit as a knight in shining armor was imagined as. His blonde hair was slightly curly and neatly swept back. He looked battleworn, but still ideally pretty, the light scar above his mouth did nothing to break his beauty. Was Mehenion blushing? He hoped not. He was clad in armor as if he slept with it and his neck was adorned by fur that made Mehenions fingers itch. He wanted to pet it, feel the fur between his fingers, but doing so would be…weird, to say the least.
Josephine, their ambassador and chief diplomat was a foreign beauty with dark skin and hair. She looked like a mix between Indian and Arabian, if there was such a thing in this world. But there wasn't. Josephine had told him she was a lady, the oldest daughter of a long line of Antivan nobles and heir of the title. Josephine was a woman with a tongue like a silver dagger. She understood the politics and the game of talking up nobles. She could sound like she was complimenting a noble, while insulting him to his very core. She understood how to get nobles to the side of the inquisition and...she was very passionate about her work, to the point one would call her a "workaholic." That, and she made wearing gold look classy and made Mehenion almost jealous. If only he could pull that off. But any colour or darker shade made him look even more ghostly pale and white clothing made him almost invisible against the snowy landscape of Haven.
"Andaran Atish'an." She spoke. Mehenion smiled. "You speak Elven too." He said surprised. "Well...you just heard the entirety of it. I'm afraid." Mehenion grinned. "My Elven is not much better, my lady." He said and made a courtly bow that made her giggle. "Very good." She said. "I would have liked to spend more time with you, training you before you go out but time is of the essence here." She pressed. Mehenion nodded.
He looked back to Cassandra, who now introduced Leliana. She called her "Sister Leliana" but she looked nothing like the other laysisters of the chantry, with her armor of chainmail and leather and her purple hood. She was their spymaster, as Cassandra so tactfully put it. She had contacts and spies who could reach where forces and favours couldn't. It was her who sent the ravens out to tell Thedas that the Inquisition was born again.
"Nice to meet you all. I hearing...hear" he corrected "... from lady Cassandra that you have a plan." He said. "Straight to business eh." Cullen teased him. "Well, as lady Josephine said, time is running. Best make most of it." Mehenion winked. Was it now Cullen who was blushing?
Leliana proposed they should seek out the rebel mages for help but Cullen was adamant that the templars would be the better asset. Both were starting to argue, an argument that would last a while until Mehenion made his fully calculated decision. And that would prove to be hard. But neither group would speak to the Inquisition yet. They had denounced the whole Inquisition, and an elf as a Herald in particular. Mehenion rolled his eyes. "Naturally…" He sighed.
This was not uncommon. The chantry felt threatened by the Inquisition. With an Elven Herald, who might not even believe in Andraste or the Maker, The Inquisition could break the already brittle foundations of the chantry. With Divine Justinia dead, they lost their compass and to lash out was their natural response. Calling Blasphemy and heresy was a church's natural response to what they deemed "against their religion.
After all, when he thought of it, The Chantry so resembled the Christian Church in his own world. "It is not my plan to breaking chantry, just reminding them where is place." Mehenion said. "Excuse me?" Cassandra gasped. "Chantry is FOR people, not ABOVE people. Many might know, but people in power forget. We have to make right...make sure this...Inquisition not do that." He explained.
"Saving the world must not getting to our heads." He continued. His Thedasian was still broken, his heavy accent, from wherever it would be, shone through. "They are right doubting me, us. We must make them trust. Not easy. I do not believe. I cannot pretend. But I...wonder. What if it IS true? What if it is NOT just stories?" Mehenion looked at the roof. "Your stories are better than ours. More...believable." He said. "Well, that's good isn't it?" Mehenion simply shrugged.
"About "Inquisition", name has bad taste in mouth, yes?" Cassandra lifted an eyebrow. "How so?" And where was this boy from anyway? Was he perhaps from beyond Thedas? Did they have Elves there? She didn't know, but she decided to hear him out, anyway. "Where I come from, Inquisition power went to heads. They burning many euh…." He put his head next to Cassandra's. "What is word for people who do nothing wrong? Ah..innocent.."
He then continued. "They burning many innocent people for being witch, which was not true. But they hurt them to get answers they want to hear. They talk about bring order, but what is order?" He looked at the four of them. "What is order for this Inquisition. Because if it will be hurting people for answers they not have, then I want no part in that." He declared. His youth and idealism clearly shone through. There would be pain. But if they could bring it to a minimum, They would be happy.
"Where DO you come from, Mehenion?" Cassandra wanted to know. "You talk of "our place", you have an accent none of us can place, and you seem to remember nothing of what happened in the fade or before, yet you know your way around Haven." She started. "The first time, when I went to bring you to the rift, you beckoned me as if you knew exactly where to go. You.." But she was cut off. "I cannot yet say. I seeking for answers." He told them.
"But then at least tell us what you know!" Cullen said, but his voice was getting more anxious, more inpatient. It didn't sound angry, just confused and tired, as if they've been talking for hours. "Shouldn't rest of circle know?" Mehenion asked. "Varric, Solas?" Cassandra softly laid a hand on his shoulder. "They will get to know in time." She said.
And so he told them. He told them that there was a blast and somehow he got "sucked in" by a force. He told them he was from another world, beyond the fade. A world where this world, he made a circle above his head, was just fiction, created by marvelous spirits who made it into an interactive story. A story he never really played to it's full end. He told them about Corypheus, but not in exact words. He told them that he was an ugly Tevinter Magister turned darkspawn and that he would convert mages and templars into abominations by using red lyrium. He also told them about the possibility of time changing. Perhaps nothing here played out like the story. But they would at least be aware of possibilities.
He didn't however tell them how far he went into the game. He didn't want them to mourn the passing of Haven before it came to pass. He didn't tell them about Skyhold yet, but if that time would come, he would be able to lead them forward, with Solas help. The way to Skyhold was another cutscene where they didn't completely show him the way to go.
He didn't tell them how much he scourged the internet and already found out who Solas was. The elf should at least be able to come forth with it himself. But he would need his help and he would contact him, perhaps in the fade, far away from prying eyes.
"So" Cassandra started "If you know all this, it might give us a head start." She sounded hopeful. "Yes and no." Mehenion explained. "There is no say about how much I will remember, later. When ever I could not figure out something in game, I would look up. But this no game. This very real. And far away from information." He took a breath. "But yes. I MIGHT know where to go. I MIGHT know where to find certain items, I MIGHT know which places to avoid, at least until stronger. I.."
Cullen interjected. "What effect did choosing the templars or mages have in your...game?" He wanted to know. If so much of the game already lined up, then perhaps… "If we choose to save the templars, he will corrupt the mages. If we choose the mages, he will corrupt the templars. It is matter of choosing the lesser evil. In game we have to choose. I do not know, perhaps we can save both, perhaps not at all." He paced the length of the war room.
"How did you, in this "game", make the chantry and nobles to listen to you?" She looked at Mehenion. "The fact that you are not even of this world..apparently...might frighten them even more. It does however explain why you didn't speak our language." Mehenion didn't adress her question right away, however.
Then she seemed to startle. "But if you played this, then how do you NOT know the language?" Mehenion laughed at this. "In the game, you talk English, One of my languages. And even if you did not, there would be ...worlds on the screen. Translations flying above your heads." He explained. Josephine nodded. "One of your languages…" She looked at him. "Well, yes. There are over a hundred languages where I come from. I only speak two well enough." He explained.
"But, How WILL we approach the chantry or the others for help? Will we talk to this Mother Giselle or isn't there one, here?" He asked them. He wanted to get to business by now. "A cleric by the name of Mother Giselle asked to speak to you. She is currently helping refugees in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe." Leliana said, only a little surprised that he knew.
"I guess they aren't all like that Rodric, are they? Let's go then. Around….here? Ah..yes, here." He said while he searched for the place on the map. "You should look for ways to expand the Inquisitions influence while you're there." Cullen said. He let out a small cough. "I am sure you have experience with that, from back home…" Mehenion let out a small laugh. "I do, but how will we get there? I guess not by magic or fast traveling." He asked.
Cullen spoke again. "You should also go look by the Redcliffe farms. There's a horsemaster who could provide us with good horses. He goes by the name of Dennet. We will need those." He explained. Leliana continued. "The Hinterlands are about a short days march from here. Our scouts have already established a camp on the terrain. One of them, Scout Harding, will fill you in, once you are there."
She handed over a map of the terrain, neatly tucked in a cylindrical holder. She also included a map of Thedas itself where she marked the way to the Hinterlands with a dotted line. Mehenion checked the map of Thedas, getting a worried glance from Cassandra, who helped him and turned the map the right way round. Mehenions cheeks coloured. He was holding the map upside down.
The way towards the Hinterlands was a lovely opportunity to bring his comrades up to speed with what had been said in the war room. Solas looked worried. "No worries Solas. I didn't spill your dirty little secret." Mehenion thought. "You sure waste no moment to tell everyone." Cassandra said. "No. Sooner they know, better." He told them that secrets would fester. Secrets were only good towards strangers and enemies. A short sideways glance flitted to Solas.
He was the only one who seemed to notice, since he was trying to keep his distance from the company. Mehenion would speak to him later. In private. In the meantime he made merry and tried to include Solas, keep him from worrying. He knew from seeing various playthroughs that, the warmer and nicer you were to him, the more likely he was to almost forfeit his plan. Perhaps in this "playthrough" he would abandon it all together. But he needed help. And although Mehenion wasn't a female elf, he would try his very best nevertheless.
With only a little pause for rest they arrived to the camp shortly before nightfall. Scout Harding greeted them immediately. Lace Harding was a dwarf. Unlike dwarves in some folklore, female dwarves in Thedas didn't sport beards. Lace had freckles across the bridge of her nose and long golden blonde hair, intricately woven into a braided hairdo that made
Mehenion wondered who ever had time and skill to do their hair like that. He himself had kept his hair loose. A feat he never seemed to accomplish at home, where he usually clipped his hair together in a ponytail to keep it out of his eyes. He might do the same here once it would become bothersome.
"We all heard the stories. We know what you did at the breach." She explained who she was and what her function was for the Inquisition. "Harding huh? Ever been to Kirkwall's Hightown?" Varric piped up. "Can't say I have, why?" Varric tried to crack a joke but was disrupted by a disgusted noise from Cassandra and a snort from Mehenion.
Harding explained they already tried to secure horses from the horsemaster. But they couldn't get through the fighting. It even spread towards the crossroads. They better help, no time to lose. Their long awaited rest at the camp would have to wait, even though Mehenions feet were sore. They took a moments pause to gather themselves, stretch their muscles from the long walk and get some food in their bellies. The tents were already propped up. Good. Mehenion couldn't think of having any sorts of energy left for that tonight.