A/N: Thank you to everyone who reads, comments, and favs/follows! You're all awesome!

...-...

"Welcome back," Leliana's voice caught Cassandra off guard as she strode through the courtyard, though it shouldn't have. When they'd worked for the Divine, Leliana had always been showing up out of nowhere and slipping off just as quickly. "I take it the Marcher templars will not be a problem for us?"

"Did you not get our last raven?" As she spoke, Cassandra moved to wipe some of the dirt and sweat from her neck. She and her party had ridden fast the last few days to try to make up for how far behind they could have potentially fallen.

"The last raven you sent me carried a message saying you were going to the coast to look for the Marcher templars."

Cassandra stopped on the stairs leading into the main hall, pushing aside the feelings of wear and exhaustion as they tried to claim her. "That was not the last message I sent you."

Instantly, Leliana's cordiality was gone, replaced with an icy look that sent a chill up Cassandra's spine.

"It would be better to speak of this in the war room," Cassandra replied, already resuming her stride. "I already sent someone to gather Cullen and Josie. I figured you would find out about the meeting well before news reached them."

Rather than comment on Cassandra's assumptions—accurate as they proved to be—Leliana caught a guard wandering past. "Gather Herald Finley, would you. She should be up in her quarters getting ready."

"Finley has returned?"

"Who do you think brought the mages?" Leliana motioned over her shoulder toward the valley beyond their walls.

Cassandra glanced back, though she didn't have a clear view of the valley beyond from where they stood. As they entered indoors, she shook her head. She'd barely noticed the base camp at all as she'd ridden back, aside from the fact that it had expanded.

Rather, she'd checked for signs of attack, and upon not finding any, had focused on getting to the castle itself as fast as she could.

"You will need to send word to Ser Yorric not to waste time scouring the Mire for her, then."

Leliana's incredulity rang in her voice. "You sent templars after her?"

"For her protection," Cassandra snapped, a little irate that Leliana would begin asking so many questions before they were safely behind closed doors.

Fortunately, Leliana seemed to pick up on Cassandra's frustration and fell silent, pausing to frown when she glanced back and saw that the guard she'd ordered to get the Herald still stood at his post. Pivoting on her toes, she stormed back to him and Cassandra stopped despite herself, watching as the spymaster scowled at the man. "I told you to gather—"

He gave her a confused look, pointing down the hall. "The boy went to do it."

"What?"

"The blonde boy…he…" Despite his confusion, the guard began to hurry ahead of them. "I'll make sure he gets her."

Cassandra nearly surpassed him as he hurried off, heading instead for the war room. Offhandedly, she noted that the keep already looked far more like a proper castle than it had when she'd left. There were Inquisition banners in place, all the old tapestries were gone, and the stained glass was fresh and newly completed.

With what was happening, however…

It wasn't enough.

Each loose stone, each unsteady wall, everything looked like an exploitable weakness.

As soon as they were in the war room, Leliana closed the door behind them and turned to Cassandra, brow furrowed. "I take it something went wrong when you went to meet with the templars?"

"Everything."

…-…

They'd made excellent time getting to Highever. The roads had been clear, and they'd ridden fast enough that there had been little time for conversation. The little they had talked had been while setting up camp, where they'd discussed what could be done to keep the peace.

Despite what she'd been told initially about the templar in charge of the group coming, Cassandra had still had hope that perhaps any fighting could be avoided. If they could speak with the templars, explain what was at stake and what they were fighting against, perhaps they could set aside their petty differences and work together to set things right.

Her suggestion had not been met with agreement.

Ser Yorric was adamant that they not allow these templars to come to Skyhold. When Cassandra had finally pressed him as to why he would advocate a bloody route rather than a peaceful one, if possible, he'd surprised her with his response. "If we let these templars come to Skyhold, we'll be telling our dear Herald that we condone all that they do, and she won't ever trust a single damned one of us." After a moment, he'd added, "And these are the sort who don't look at mages as actual people. We can't stand with that. Even if we do need more blades, theirs will never help our cause."

Cassandra had known she didn't want them bringing their war with them, but she hadn't really considered beyond that. Turning them away had felt dangerous, as had letting them come. However, the more she heard of Knight-Captain Maeville—Ser Yorric refused to refer to him with a higher title, as though mere denial could demote his fellow templar—the more she knew that what he'd said was true.

The man sounded like a war criminal, and that was just considering the things they'd known him to do before the war had started. There were a few rumors of what he'd been up to, and they all made Cassandra sick to her stomach.

While she could not claim to care much for mages in general, no one deserved to be treated so cruelly.

Cassandra had considered trying to talk to the templars beneath Maeville to sway some of them to the Inquisition's side, but she doubted it would be any better. Surely, though, not all of the templars coming from the Marches could be bad. If they were offered a chance at redemption, perhaps…

Leliana had sent out contacts to try to get more information about these templars, but all they'd heard was there were two ships full of them crossing the sea. Some sources said there were as many as two hundred templars.

Cassandra had brought twenty with her.

She'd spent time going over the numbers with Ser Barris and Ser Yorric, discussing if perhaps they should send for reinforcements. The problem was, they couldn't really afford to draw more soldiers away from Skyhold just yet.

They'd decided that they would set up a camp a ways from the town, make it look as though there were more of them than there were, and only a few of them would approach Highever itself. That way they could honestly say there were more of them waiting, ready to come to their aid and make sure that no enemy templars left the port city without it being a complete lie.

The plan had been a little weak and too dependent on being able to fool their adversaries for Cassandra's liking—and even if they did fool them, what they planned on doing with an army of hostile templars was a little murky—but it had been all they'd been able to come up with on such short notice.

As they'd ridden into Highever, her gut had been in knots, though she'd made sure to sit proud and tall in her seat and not let any of her worry show.

Worry that turned out to be for naught.

After a brief sweep followed by one far more thorough, Cassandra and the others found no sign of the templars or the ships that had supposedly carried them.

The next four days had been a hectic nightmare, in which they did their best to stay calm as they gathered information about ship routes and possible changes that would have resulted in the templars coming in at a different port.

Finally, just as Cassandra was ready to toss someone into the damned sea, they'd learned that another boat with templars was due in the next day or so and had decided to wait for it, lest the first rumors they'd heard prove to be gross exaggerations. If there were fewer templars coming in, that meant their ploy to make themselves seem to have more people with them might work out better.

And if these were different templars, it was hard to say where they might stand.

The last thing they needed was for templars—or mages—to reignite their war so close to Skyhold.

Though, truth be told, the war had barely reached a lull before the Conclave, and even if things had died down in Ferelden and Orlais, the reports they'd received from Nevarra, the Free Marches, Antiva, and the Anderfels sounded as dire as ever.

If rumors were spreading that the Inquisition had indeed sided with the templars, then that meant that the templars would begin to look to them for help in squashing any remaining mage resistance.

Somehow, Cassandra didn't see Finley going for something like that. Even if she changed her mind while she was away and decided not to be the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste was still a powerful title, aided by the mark. If Finley refused to close rifts because of poor treatment of her people, they would be in a tight spot, indeed.

Though…that option hadn't seemed to have occurred to Finley.

No doubt it had crossed a lot of minds that she could easily ask much of anyone she pleased, with the threat of rampaging demons on her side.

And yet she didn't.

Finley was a better person than most, for she didn't even seem to consider that a possibility.

It made Cassandra wonder how well-founded her dislike for mages truly was, though that was something she didn't like to dwell on too much. She had much to prepare for and would find the time to reevaluate her world views later, once the storm had broken.

The ship they'd heard of had arrived the next night, and while Cassandra hadn't been sure what they would do—confronting them in the city had seemed like a bad idea, especially if fighting were to break out—as she'd been going over a few reports sent to her from Leliana, a rough hand had knocked the table beside her.

When she'd looked up, she'd found herself grasping for a name to the familiar face.

"Knight-captain Rylen," she'd finally said, a smile tugging at one corner of her lips.

With a quick bow, he'd grinned at her. "Don't tell me Cullen sent us a welcoming party." Even as Cassandra, Ser Barris, and Ser Yorric had started to talk at once, he'd shaken his head. "I told him I'd be back after I rounded up some good soldiers." At that, his face fell. "I was sorry to hear about Haven, though. I…saying I wish I'd been there probably rings hallow, but…"

"Unless you can kill an archdemon, it wouldn't have helped," Ser Yorric had joked, though the humor fell a little flat.

Ser Rylen shrugged a shoulder, before pointing over it. "Well, I've got about fifty trained templars and other knights from the Marches who are willing to serve under the Inquisition's banner."

"Welcome allies, indeed," Cassandra assured him, "though I must ask, have you heard of Maeville? Knight-commander Maeville?"

Ser Rylen's brow had shot up as he considered it a moment. "Well, I sent word that I thought he was coming to Skyhold. A little surprised you all would be waiting here for me, when he's got a week head start on my group."

And that was when it had really sunk in. "We missed him."

As the words settled over the table, Ser Yorric had been the first to deny it. "But we'd have crossed paths with him if he was already on the road, and we've been here and there's no word on templar movements in any of the other harbors right now. If he's landed anywhere, he somehow managed to get an entire port city to keep quiet about it…and from what I've heard, he doesn't exactly have the winning personality to pull that off."

"Unless his ship docked somewhere off shore," Ser Barris had pointed out, making the pits in all of their stomachs drop further.

"On the Storm Coast?" With a whistle, Ser Rylen had crossed his arms and rocked from heel to toe and back. "I've only been near it once, and I've no desire to go there again."

Cassandra had shaken her head. "This makes no sense. He couldn't have known we were coming to meet him. And why would he want to sneak into Ferelden unless he's already decided that the Inquisition is against him?"

The thought was hardly a pleasant one.

Truly, the only positive notion that came to mind was that perhaps both ships had sunk, though there'd been no news of storms sweeping through the Waking Sea of late. It felt cold to hope so many would drown, but she wasn't sure what else to make of their situation.

After all, templars did not simply disappear.

And even if they'd landed somewhere along the coast, Cassandra's group should have crossed paths with them or heard stories of them marching to wherever they were going.

That night, after welcoming Knight-captain Rylen back and asking him to stay with them until they were certain the other templars would not be descending upon them any time soon, Cassandra had found herself alone in her room, sitting on her bed. She'd needed the rest, should they hear back soon, but everything just felt like it was spiraling out of control.

"Too many tethers, too many directions without a hand, pulling and prying and praying, but the damage is done. They break, tethers and tethered alike…" A voice had come from beside her, and she'd lifted her head, turning to see a blonde boy sitting on the bed beside her, head hung a little so that his shaggy hair covered his face. "They don't understand their freedom, and they need someone to tell them they are right. So they go to you…or to him."

The boy shuddered and shook his head, hair fluttering around him like a beast all its own. "But both can't be right. Too many are lost. They can't see themselves with you, with her. A mage. So they go to him. To Samson. He doesn't tell them of the mage holding his tether. Not until their new bindings are too tight to break."

Cassandra had furrowed her brow. For a moment, she'd felt bewildered to have the boy there with her, to have not heard him come in, and yet something about him had seemed familiar, and she hadn't been able to consider him a threat. "What are you saying?"

"There's a boy. He wants to tell you, but he's scared of your frown. The armor doesn't help."

"You want me to take off my armor and wander around?"

"Well, I'd ask Yorric, but the boy knows he's a templar. And he knows you're not. He's never heard of a seeker, so you seem safer."

"Why don't you talk to him? You're neither."

"No, I'm not," the blonde boy admitted with a sigh. "But the templars will wonder how you got the information if I give it to you. I don't know that it would help. You should talk to the boy, and they'll know the information is good."

Cassandra hadn't been sure why, but the next morning she'd gone for a walk around the market without her armor, though she'd kept her sword at her hip. As she'd been considering that she was wasting her time and leaving herself far too open, she'd felt a tug on one of her sleeves and had turned to see a small, elven boy staring up at her with large eyes.

Even as her brow had furrowed, he'd offered her a letter. "From a Friend," he'd said before disappearing into the crowd.

It hadn't taken long for Cassandra to realize this had to be one of Sera's 'friends'. The letter had a few misspelled words in it, but it'd spoken of boats coming to shore some fifteen miles to the east of Highever.

Leaving Ser Rylen in charge of the docks, Cassandra had taken Ser Yorric and Ser Barris with her to investigate the coast.

The trip had been a quick one, with little incident until they found exactly what they were looking for: two ships, anchored just off the shore, with a few abandoned boats still bobbing in the surf, and left to rot on the rocky beach.

Ser Yorric's lips had dipped down as he examined the coast through the rain that was already making their armor uncomfortable. "These've been here for days. I don't see that we'll be able to find any good tracks."

"Here."

The three of them turned to see that same blonde boy standing near where the forest broke for the beach. Ser Barris was the first to react, stepping forward slowly, hand going toward his blade.

"I know you." Tense as he was, he abruptly relaxed. "You helped alongside the Herald at Therinfal." He blinked through the rain forming small rivulets over his dark skin. "I'm sorry, I can't remember your name."

"Introductions can wait until after you've seen." Moving a few steps beneath the trees, he'd waved for them to follow. "Come."

They'd wound their way through the trees, with the boy sometimes seeming to disappear altogether, only to reappear when they started to question just where it was they were going. Finally, they'd stumbled into a large cavern along a cliff they'd been following for a while, and the sight had made Cassandra baulk.

The cavern itself was full of signs that it had been a camp for at least a day or two, and to a great many people at that.

Worse, however, was the red lyrium already beginning to spike up through the ground and out of the walls.

When Ser Yorric started to step closer to it, Cassandra had grabbed his arm. "Wait—"

With a glance, he grinned. "Worried for my safety, dear lady?"

"Cullen nearly lost himself to this."

At that, her companions were silent before Ser Barris pushed forward and carefully approached one of the jagged red spikes. "The song is loud, but it's nothing we can't handle."

"We took our lyrium this morning," Ser Yorric added, patting Cassandra's hand before gently pulling away from her. "As far as the commander goes, I'd guess he would be affected more than us because he's not taking any lyrium any longer."

"Maker…" Ser Barris had hissed, a little ways further into the cavern. Despite the hackles on the back of her neck standing on end, Cassandra unsheathed her weapon and headed in to see what had caught Ser Barris by surprise.

As soon as she rounded the wall, she had to fight the urge to gag. Charred, deformed bodies lay in a pile, limbs twisted with lyrium and burned faces still bearing the despair that had been plastered to them in death.

Even as Ser Yorric swore quietly under his breath, Cassandra stepped closer, counting. "Twelve, it looks like."

"Twelve templars who couldn't handle their red lyrium," Ser Barris corrected. Adjusting his grip on his blade, he looked around the cavern, a sneer settling on his lips. "I'd hoped Therinfal was the only place they would do this to people."

Moving away from the burned bodies, Ser Yorric simply sighed. "Don't suppose they were nice enough to leave behind a ship manifest so we can see how many people we're looking for?"

"You shouldn't dally here. You know what you need to," came that familiar, worried voice. When Cassandra looked back toward the entrance of the cavern, she thought she saw someone for a moment before she was staring at empty space.

"Come. We need to let the others know that the red templars are still a problem."

…-…

Cullen leaned against the war table, frown firmly in place. "You're telling me almost two hundred templars infected with red lyrium just disappeared?"

"No," Cassandra replied, curtly. "I'm telling you that after we discovered what had become of them, we retreated. Even with Ser Rylen's recruits, we only had seventy people to two hundred, and one red templar can take on half a dozen regular templars easily."

"And where has Ser Barris disappeared to?" Leliana pressed. "You said you had no casualties and yet—"

"He and a small group went to Denerim, to warn King Cousland of the danger."

"And you sent Ser Yorric and his group to the Mire, in case the red templars headed that way while our Herald was still there."

With a sigh, Cassandra nodded. "We wanted to make sure she was aware of the problem and to bring her back safely. I will sleep better knowing she's already here."

As if on cue, the door to the war room opened, and Lady Vivienne and Finley entered, with Lady Vivienne reaching out to catch Finley's hand as she reached for her hair. "None of that, dear. Do try to keep your hands to yourself until the ceremony is over. Have you thought of what you'll say?"

As both mages noticed they were entering upon what looked to be a proper meeting, their expressions shifted slightly. Finley's looked worried, and Lady Vivienne simply seemed idly curious.

As Cassandra looked at them, the stories of what the missing templars had done to mages came back, and she felt a sick twist in her stomach. Neither of the mages in front of her deserved any of that. None of them did, but to imagine a face to the horrors spoken of was just…

This war had to come to an end.

It had been clear before, but now…

Now she didn't see the mages as quite so petulant as she had considered them before, and a little part of her felt like she'd misplaced her anger over Anthony's death.

To blame all mages for what one had done…

Maker, but it seemed like their whole world seemed to do that, didn't it?

Though…there were clearly repercussions for allowing magic to be free. Tevinter was proof of that.

But perhaps…perhaps their method had not been right, either.

Most of the mages Cassandra had met of late seemed like a decent sort, after all.

"Again, darling? Stop. The seamstress just finished with this tunic not ten minutes ago. Do try not put a hole in it already."

Vivienne was again reaching out to stop Finley's fidgeting.

Finley's clothes were simple, yet elegant. Her tunic was black, with the eye of the Inquisition embroidered in brilliant gold across her chest. Her pants were a plain grey, tucking into black boots, and it looked like someone had managed to wrangle her hair up into a simple, far neater braid than usual. Some of her hair was already falling out around her face, and Cassandra noticed that Cullen had seemed to lose track of the conversation the second she'd walked in.

"I thought we were meeting in the main hall," Finley murmured, gaze darting about as she tried to appraise what was going on. "But then they said to come here."

"I'm afraid I just came in," Casandra apologized. "With bad news."

"I heard about the templars," Even as the others looked confused, Finley shrugged a little too quickly. "Word travels fast." She hesitated a moment and then asked, "Do we know who's responsible for this?"

"Samson." The word came unbidden to Cassandra's lips.

That snapped Cullen back to reality. "I knew a Samson. He was kicked out of the Order for being…" he trailed off a moment before adding, almost under his breath, "for being corrupted by a mage." Shaking his head, he narrowed his eyes as he looked at Cassandra. "It might not be the same person, but…"

"It is a lead," Leliana interrupted.

"Does this mean he's recruiting templars from all over to work for Corypheus?" Finley stepped closer to the war table, fingers drumming nervously against the edge of the wood.

Before anyone could answer, Lady Vivienne tensed, gaze snapping toward the back of the room, though when Cullen asked if she was alright, she merely narrowed her eyes and then whatever had happened was over, and her usual smile was back in place. "Fine."

"We can talk about this after the ceremony. Let the day have some good in it before we get too bogged down with this new twist." With a smile, Leliana waved Finley closer. "Let us give Cassandra some time to get cleaned up, and I'll explain what will be expected of you. As Lady Vivienne has suggested, you will need to give a speech."

Even as Finley nodded—pausing to give Cullen a rather hopeful look, though he was already shuffling through papers, head bent down—Cassandra sighed and turned to slip out of the room. There was always so much that needed doing.

A bath would be a nice necessity, though.

"Seeker?"

Cassandra paused to look back and see that Lady Vivienne had come out of the room after her. "Yes?"

"Have you noticed anything out of place recently? Any…people?"

For an instant, a blonde boy came to mind, though Cassandra wasn't sure where she knew him from. After trying to think another moment, Cassandra sighed. "Is there someone I should be watching out for?"

"Perhaps not," Lady Vivienne smiled again, stance calm, collected. "Do let me know if you think of anyone?"

"Of course."