Cassandra walked along the training grounds with Cullen, discussing a few reports on demonic activity, supply lines, and the progression of different groups—templars, soldiers, mages. Despite the obvious issues that remained, things seemed to be coming along smoothly. Cullen was able to keep order within the ranks with little more than a well-timed stern look, an even voice, and a reasonable attitude. He pushed their soldiers hard, somehow able to stop just short of each of their breaking points.
Cassandra knew she'd chosen well when she'd recruited him.
Even better, it seemed that their Herald really had turned over a new leaf. In Val Royeaux, things had gone…better than she'd expected, especially considering the way the lord seeker had acted. His violence had sparked indignation in Finley, which had overcome a panic attack, even as it came on. The Herald had thought Haven was a large gathering, and had not initially handled being in a space with so many people well…at all. Once she'd been offended, though, she'd impressed more than a few when she demanded the lord seeker not treat the revered mother so cruelly. It hadn't changed his mind, but it hadn't needed to.
Since they'd gotten back, Finley had also started wandering around Haven more. Mostly, she was with that elf, Sera. Cassandra couldn't say whether that was good or not, but it was…different. They interacted with people, helped with little things. When people looked at the Herald now, there were smiles, and the whispers were reassuring or pleased rather than skeptical.
Morale was up.
She'd even seen Finley talking to Mother Giselle and Leliana.
For the first time in over a month, it felt like there was actual, palpable hope.
Cullen looked up from the report he was explaining and then stopped in his tracks, jaw tightening ever so slightly as he stared ahead. Following his gaze, Cassandra narrowed her eyes, unsure whether to trust what she was seeing or not.
Minds on the same page, the two of them started walking again at the same time.
"What is the meaning of this?" Cassandra stopped next to a few crates that had rather conveniently appeared near the training grounds, next to where the newest recruits practiced their sparring. Herald Finley sat at the middle of the makeshift seat, Sera to one side and Varric to the other. The elf was munching on an apple as she stared at Cassandra, apparently completely disinterested in answering the question. Did she not understand that the Inquisition wasn't some misfit band of friends and that ranks did matter?
Beyond the elf, there was a fourth member to their little crew, though Cassandra didn't recognize the man. His head was shaved on the sides, the top grown a bit long and swept back. His armor marked him as a mercenary. He also had an apple, and a flask of water resting beside him. When he saw the commander and seeker's gazes on him, he straightened up to give them a quick salute. Finley was the one who waved him at ease.
She was growing rather accustomed to being an authority figure, it seemed. A bit too much so, perhaps, as her role as Herald hardly put her anywhere in the military ranks. Cassandra paused as she wondered where she would go, when out in the field with soldiers, closing rifts.
Varric grinned and motioned toward Finley. "Our great Herald is evaluating the troops."
Maker.
Cassandra prayed the mage hadn't decided to antagonize Cullen again. Things seemed to be almost good between them. Apparently her earlier chiding had worked, for the time being. While, according to Cullen, they'd made amends, he still wasn't sure that it would stay that way. She was hard to read, he'd said.
"They're switching partners," Sera said, turning her attention back to the men and women training.
Apparently, the quartet had been around long enough for their entertainment to get over having an audience. However, with Cassandra and Cullen there, a few of them kept glancing their way, nervous looks plastered to their faces.
Varric leaned forward, chin cupped in his hands, Bianca resting against the crate, near his feet. "Hey, Stardust, what about the guy with the orange-ish hair. Tattoo looks like he was going for a carta look without knowing what it meant."
Finley had been mid wave to Cassandra and Cullen when he'd spoken, and her hand lowered slowly as her gaze swept the area before them, finally landing on the man Varric was talking about. Cassandra and Cullen looked at him, as well. When he defended, he seemed to have trouble keeping his shield arm steady. Both commander and seeker looked back at the quartet. Finley leaned forward, eyes narrowed, focused on the recruit.
Sera sucked in a low breath, drumming her fingers against her apple. "I'd have an arrow in his arse before he could get a proper footing, yeah?"
"Wouldn't matter how good his front guard is if you're aiming for his ass, Buttercup," Varric cracked a crooked grin.
"Poor bastard," the fourth member of their crew remarked, his voice husky. His bit into his apple, chewing thoughtfully.
"Butt-ercup," Sera laughed loudly, bits of half-chewed fruit flying from her mouth before she could cover it. She leaned back, eyeing Cassandra and Cullen. When she talked, it was to Finley. "I think you're needed for Heraldy things, Your Ladybits."
"I think it's a torn muscle that healed wrong," Finley finally said, sitting upright again and then looking over to Varric with a shrug. "Something that happened a long time ago. He's used to the lack of strength and a bit of limited movement, but it'll be hard for him to overcome it."
Cassandra's gaze flitted to the man they were talking about again. She watched him fighting. His stance was good, his grip firm, but they were right…his guard was too weak. If she were fighting him, she'd meet his shield with hers as hard as she could and stab him while he was off balance. He'd be down in a breath.
"You're watching the recruits for weaknesses?" Cullen asked, tucking his reports under an arm and stepping over to stand next to Varric. As his gaze turned back toward the recruits, Cassandra could feel their nerves heighten.
No one liked having their boss watching over their shoulders.
"Stardust has a gift," the mercenary offered. He paused when Cassandra and Cullen's brows dipped down. "Er, Lady Herald."
"I prefer Stardust to Herald." Finley shrugged lightly, leaning her hands back and propping herself up as she idly scanned the other fighters. "And it's not so much a gift. Just a matter of simple observation. Situational awareness, if you will. Know the people around you, and you know your fight, or when to run."
Varric chuckled, reaching out and lightly hitting Finley's arm with the back of his hand. "It's no wonder the templars never caught her, what with her able to figure out their weak ankles and bad joints at a glance." He shook his head. "You must have had some incredible escapes in the wilds."
Even as Finley's gaze snapped toward Cullen and Cassandra, as though she fully expected them to both try to accept the challenge and tackle her, Sera shrugged. "I like it. It's not magic-y or nothing. Nice regular people watching. Seeing what don't work, seeing what went sideways."
It took effort on the Herald's part, but she closed her eyes and rolled the tension from her shoulders, drawing her legs up crisscross on top of the crate. "He might do better with daggers. Maybe see if he has any gift for traps and the like?"
Cassandra arched her eyebrows. "You can't just heal him?"
"I generally heal injuries as they happen, but I suppose I could, in theory. Don't know that I'd want to experiment on him to prove it. And anyway, that injury is old. His body knows it too well. He knows it. He'd probably spend just as much time having to learn to rein in the extra energy he puts into his guard as he would just learning a new skill." She watched the recruit a moment longer. "Even if he wanted me to try, I doubt he'd be ready to fight to close the Breach, since we are doing that sooner than later. Give him a dagger, and he'd probably learn quicker."
Neither Cassandra nor Cullen had expected her to offer a solution that didn't involve magic. The seeker strode closer, sliding up so that she could lean against the crate between the Herald and Varric. "Do you have suggestions for others, as well?"
"Hmm…not today," she shrugged. "I already gave Lieutenant Ryan my notes from yesterday. He's dealing with most of the issues."
Cullen crossed his arms, shifting his weight. "That's…very helpful."
"Right? Our Herald is a helpful lady," Sera leaned forward, gripping the crate. Even so, she nearly toppled forward. She flailed her legs to kick herself back into place, her short blonde hair fluttering wildly around her face.
"I am a healer," Finley offered. "I am always helpful." Abruptly, she seemed to remember something and turned to Cassandra, motioning toward the mercenary. "Speaking of help, may I present to you, lady seeker, Cremisius Aclassi, second in command for the Bull's Chargers mercenary company." The mercenary stood upright again and gave them a proper bow. Finley motioned to Cassandra and Cullen. "This is Seeker Pentaghast and Commander Rutherford. I believe you need to speak with them on joining the Inquisition."
"You are no longer offering invitations, Herald?" Cassandra teased dryly, arching an eyebrow when Finley blinked at her, innocent like.
She tugged her braid over her shoulder and wound it slowly around her fingers. "I thought recruiting larger groups would likely be out of my…jurisdiction."
"Oh?" Cassandra had to fight a small smile. "I'm glad to see you have some reservations with wielding your newfound power."
Cremisius listened to them patiently, waiting until Finley had rolled her eyes dismissively to Cassandra's quip before speaking. "Sers, if you would have us, we're the best mercenary company you can find. We're expensive, but worth it." He paused a breath before adding, "We're currently finishing up another assignment, hunting down some Tevinter slavers on the Storm Coast. If you want to see us in action…"
Cassandra noticed the way the Herald perked up, eerie eyes flashing and making the gold in her irises look almost like molten metal. It was a quick reminder that she was a mage.
Fade-touched, Cullen had told her.
Whenever a mage completed their Harrowing or went into a lyrium induced sleep to wander the Fade, they woke with gold in their eyes that shimmered with other-worldly light. Usually, it faded over time, leaving most. On the rare occasion, it left a thin ring of yellow around their pupils. Typically, that only happened if something substantial happened during their time in the Fade. Vanquishing a demon and getting caught it the magical backlash of its final spells. Things of that nature.
That she had physically been in the Fade…it was no wonder her eyes looked like a sunburst.
Cullen thought they would begin to fade soon, but Cassandra had her doubts. When the mage used her magic, that eerie light flared most noticeably, but that flicker of other-worldliness was always there, in her interest, in her suspicion, in her caution. Any emotion seemed to spark its burning back to life.
If she asked Herald Finley, would the apostate even tell her what had caused her eyes to be so, if it hadn't been the Conclave?
"We can't really afford to send people to the Coast, at the moment," Cullen was apologizing.
Finley reached out, lightly touching Cassandra's arm. The seeker started from her thoughts, blinking and meeting the mage's apologetic gaze.
"If it would be amenable, I could go," She was playing with her braid again. "After all, there are rifts out there, yes? They will need to be closed, so why not now?"
Cullen crossed his arms. "Should we get word from…" He seemed to consider whether to discuss more critical Inquisition politics in front of a stranger. "We may need you, on short notice."
"Tits 'n pointy bits," snapped Sera, tossing her apple core at the commander. It bounced off his shoulder, and his eye twitched. "She might be needed, so she's gotta stay holed up where she doesn't do shite?" Her voice was loud, and rolled over the training area, catching more than a few glances.
"There is more to it—" Cullen began, exasperated.
Finley leaned over, slinging an arm over Sera's shoulders and swaying with her, knocking the elf off balance. Sera let out a string of unpleasantries before batting free from her grasp. "I think what Sera means is that I should like to get on with the whole saving the world nonsense, and it feels most unproductive sitting about, watching the training grounds to see these fine soldiers take their shirts off."
"Maker's breath…" Cullen coughed, a pinkish hue dusting his cheeks as he hazarded a glance toward his recruits. A few of the nearer ones were grinning like fools, but none of them broke their training regimen.
"And here I thought you'd come by to offer assistance to our 'fine soldiers'," Cassandra said in her usual dry tone. Even as Finley offered her a mischievous smile, Cassandra crossed her arms. "It is a good point, though. We should not be sitting idly by."
"We haven't been," Cullen argued.
"You haven't been," Cassandra reached out and patted his shoulder. She looked back at Finley, and then to Cremisius. "We will leave in the morning, to the Storm Coast, to meet with your company."
"Excellent," the mercenary bowed again. "I'll get a head start. Our boss, the Iron Bull, will be pleased." He hesitated, realizing he hadn't really offered the seeker or commander much in the way of details.
Finley waved him off. "I'll fill them in. We look forward to meeting the Chargers."