First Enchanter Vivienne, Madam de Fer, finished applying her eyeshadow and leaned back from her small looking glass, inspecting her reflection carefully. Her makeup was elegantly done, accenting her eyes, lips, and cheekbones perfectly, her skin was beautifully smooth, with just a hint of wrinkles around her eyes, lines formed from years of well-placed smiles. Her eyebrows were delicate, but not too much so. As she turned her head to let the light catch her at a few different angles, she had to smile. Whereas she would need to look flawless at any time, tonight was particularly important.
Tonight, the Herald of Andraste was to be stopping by her salon.
The invitation had been accepted, as she knew it would, earlier in the day. She'd offered the Herald and her entourage a place to stay in the city before they began their journey back to Haven. The maids had prepared several rooms, the linens freshly washed for the beds and smelling of lavender. Not a mote of dust would be found in any of the rooms, not a fleck of dirt.
The stable boys had been told to expect them as well, to make sure that every generosity was extended to the beasts of the Inquisition. It would not do to have their mounts treated any less than their people. The way people treated animals was often a telling sign, and all of her signs were going to tell wondrous stories.
Makeup finished and perfect, Lady Vivienne carefully donned her dragon-esque hat, her finger tips holding it just so, so that her manicured nails wouldn't pinch into the fabric. She twisted it a little one way and then the other, until it, too, was perfectly in place. Her mask came next.
Many of the people in Val Royeaux had been whispering—when they weren't outright gossiping—about the rising power in the Inquisition. Thus far, it hadn't done too terribly much—it had halted the rift in the sky's growth, which was no small feat—and to Lady Vivienne that meant it would be an opportune time to join.
Over the years, she had developed an eye for projects and causes that could be worthwhile and successful, with the proper guidance. Her guidance.
Great things were in line for the Inquisition, and she would be there, from as close to the beginning as she could manage. Besides, it was only proper that the leader of the loyal mages of Thedas be a part of mending their broken world, particularly when it was their rebellious brethren who had obviously damaged it to begin with. It would be immeasurably more productive for mages everywhere if people saw them as helpers rather than the raving fools running about the countryside, smiting everyone who crossed their paths under the assumption that the poor soul might have shook hands with a templar once.
She would represent her Circle, the mages who stood proud with tradition. She would show Thedas that mages could be trusted.
A knock came at her door.
"Yes? Speak quickly."
"Madam, the Herald of Andraste has arrived," a servant announced, bowing in the doorway. When he straightened up, she gave him a gracious smile and dismissed him with a slight wave of her hand. He hurried off.
She paused once to look over her reflection in a full length mirror near the door. Her current ensemble was light, with gems, lace, and glittering thread decorating a pale fabric, easily accentuating her dark skin. Tugging a sleeve into place, she gave herself a well-meaning smile that would easily win over anyone unfamiliar with the Game—and more than a few who were—and stepped out into the hall, swinging her door shut in a fluid movement. Her hips swung slightly as she stepped down the hall in her heels, each movement graceful and precise, giving her the exact presence that she wanted to show to this Herald of Andraste.
Powerful, controlled, confident.
She would not mess this up, not with years of training and practice behind her. After all, she'd learned a long time ago how a single misstep could leave one's ambitions unfulfilled.
Such would not happen to the Madam de Fer.
When she reached the steps leading into the main lobby of her manor, her gaze easily alighted on her guest of honor.
Were she less of a woman, her smile would have a faltered.
The red-headed woman standing there had to be the Herald of Andraste. Lady Vivienne had heard of her. Brilliant orange hair that fell down her back, eyes with a touch of Fade that never left them circled by what could have been the void itself it was so dark, so many kisses from the sun on her skin that she looked speckled, even from a short distance. The stories hadn't mentioned that she would look so…disheveled. Her clothes bore wrinkles, her hair was a mess, and she'd worn her bow and quiver into the building.
Wasn't she supposed to be a mage, as well? It would be disappointing if that part of the story was a lie; she'd been looking forward to working with a fellow mage, even if she was rumored to have been from the Wilds, of all places.
If the stories were true, perhaps this appearance was her version of being dressed up, if she was from so remote a place.
That prat of a noble, the Marquis Alphonse Mont-de-Glace, had noticed her as well. He was also armed, something most inappropriate, though Lady Vivienne hardly paid him much mind. A properly timed spell could claim his fingers before he ever drew his blade. However, that was not the point of getting him here, now was it?
Madam de Fer waited a moment, appraising the situation. She wanted to see how this woman acted before introducing herself and handling the dear Marquis.
Despite the insinuations and slurs he threw at the woman, the Herald did not falter. She grew indignant at the charges, drawing herself up straight and insisting the Inquisition wished to be a force to help the people in their time of need. The Fade seemed to flicker in her eyes.
As the man continued his tirade, Lady Vivienne noticed another woman, whose armor bore the insignia of the Inquisition, pushing past the doorman and making her way into the room. She knew her by reputation only: Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast.
If Lady Vivienne was to present herself as a figure with whom power could be trusted, she would need to do so before the seeker reached that fool of a Marquis. After all, it wouldn't do to show them that she couldn't handle upstarts in her own home.
"If you were a woman of honor, you would step outside and answer the charges." The marquis made a move for a blade—was that one of Bastion's swords from his collection, one of the ones on display on the wall in the sitting room?
She'd expected little from the marquis, but this was too much. It took a great deal of control to keep herself from frowning at the realization, but she managed.
After all, dealings with nobility aside, when one had magic, one could never afford to lose control.
Speaking of.
A simple frost spell fixed him in place, even as his hand gripped the hilt to draw her lover's weapon. Lady Vivienne began a graceful descent down her stairs, making sure that her voice carried when she spoke, capturing the attention of everyone in the room. She remained poised and dignified under their gazes. "My dear marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house…to my guests." She stepped carefully past him, making sure she had a clear view of the Herald—and that the Herald got a clear view of her—before she turned on him. "You know such rudeness is…intolerable."
The fool stuttered his way through an apology that she barely listened to, instead turning again to the Herald and giving her a kind smile. "My lady, you are the injured party. What would you have me do?"
Those brilliant eyes blinked. Once, twice. Then she shifted a little on her feet, awkwardly aware that all eyes had turned to her now. She started to glance toward the seeker, as though for help, but stopped herself, instead motioning to the man. "I think the marquis has learned the error of his ways."
A forgiving soul, as the stories said.
Lady Vivienne released the fool, and, after a few brief introductions, invited the Herald upstairs to speak alone. While she wanted to offer her services, she also wanted to make sure Lady Vivienne could get a feel for her, without her seeker guard standing over them. She hadn't glanced back when they left, but she'd heard a slight clink of metal boots against her marble floor and could guess it was the seeker turning to watch them go, debating whether she could invite herself along without causing a scene.
In the end, it was just the two of them.
As they walked, slowly, getting a safe distance from the rest of the party so that their talks could be private, Lady Vivienne cast a sideways glance at the Herald, inspecting her. Her clothes were not only wrinkled but dusty, too, though she could see a few smear patterns where it looked like the woman had tried to clean herself before giving up. Her boots had mud caked to them.
And she was rather short, just barely taller than most elves.
The Herald's gaze wandered as she lightly picked at one of her sleeves. The poor hem wouldn't be able to take much more of that. It might not have been the most expensive article of clothing, but still, it hardly deserved such abuse.
They stopped by a window, and the Herald made no attempt to even hide her almost childish wonder at the city that sprawled out before them. Her fingers drummed against the windowsill.
However, even as Lady Vivienne began to talk, she felt a whisper of magic around the red-head. She knew what she planned to say by heart and allowed her attention to divide as they exchanged pleasantries and the like.
The Herald's magic by itself seemed weak—though Lady Vivienne recognized the feel of a concealing spell wrapped around her, something subtle enough that most templars wouldn't notice, but other mages would be able to pick out with relative ease, if they were looking.
So she was stronger than she let on. Good to know.
Beyond that spell, there were others, ones she couldn't quite identify, mostly because they felt unfamiliar. Perhaps if she saw them written down…
Were they some type of protection spells? As she focused, she realized that there were at least a dozen of them. Was this something the Inquisition had insisted upon, in case the revered mothers were less than kind during their meetings?
Or were they something else?
There was a wildness to the Herald's magic that she wasn't used to feeling from her fellow Circle mages after a certain age. After years of learning theory and proper spellcraft, magic became so much more refined, so much more potent. But this woman… she had clearly never studied in a Circle, or if she had, she'd escaped when she was still very, very young. Lady Vivienne chose to bet on the former, as she doubted a small child could have outwitted templars.
It would be curious to see how their spells differed, with their upbringings so diverse. Of course, Lady Vivienne would have to be careful how she brought up such a conversation. If what she suspected was true, this was no disciplined mage, and apostates seemed to be very paranoid when it came to their secrets.
Though…she supposed it wouldn't be too terribly different from dealing with the paranoia certain nobles suffered.
And it wasn't as though she was up against the Empress of Orlais.
The Herald was so easy to direct in conversation; it was almost disappointing. A well placed adjective had her asking the exact question that Lady Vivienne had hoped for, allowing her to give her the very answers she needed to build up to her perfect pitch.
"The Veil had been ripped apart, and there is a hole in the sky," she stated, just the appropriate amount of passion lacing her voice. Honestly, it didn't matter if she allowed herself to show how much this truly meant to her; the Herald clearly wasn't one to understand the intricate trappings of court etiquette. However, it would have been disrespectful to treat her guest as less than she would the blasted marquis who had threatened the Herald earlier, and so Lady Vivienne kept her composure, her manners. She let her words carry their own poignancy, a declaration that surely would stir the dear Herald's kind heart. "It is now the duty of every mage to work toward sealing the Breach. And so I would join the Inquisition on the field of battle."
The Herald had watched her come down the steps after she'd frozen that ridiculous upstart in place, had glanced at her a few times as they'd walked, but it wasn't until she made her offer that Lady Vivienne really felt like the woman was looking at her, seeing her.
Judging her.
Holding the first enchanter's gaze with that lick of ethereal fire dancing in her eyes, she finally nodded toward her. "I look forward to working with you, Lady Vivienne."
Madam de Fer allowed herself a wider smile than usual as she nodded back. "Great things are beginning, my dear, I can promise you that."