Those who oppose thee

Shall know the wrath of heaven.

Field and forest shall burn,

The seas shall rise and devour them,

The wind shall tear their nations

From the face of the earth,

Lightning shall rain down from the sky,

They shall cry out to their false gods,

And find Silence.

Andraste 7:19

'You will stand for the Lady Patience,' the Augur of Mystery said, calmly and clearly.

Dorian did not need to, for he was already standing, as were Radonis and Cassandra; Briala did, offering a very polite Orlesian curtsy, and not lifting her eyes until Veldrin nodded in her direction, and signalling that it was alright to sit back down. Josephine Montilyet, pale as wax, and shaking as if fever was upon her, tried to stand but could not truly manage – Dorian's hand upon her forearm assured her that the effort was enough, and she gratefully sunk back in her seat.

The Lord Watcher gave Veldrin a brief, acknowledging nod, standing straight from the bookcase he was casually leaning on while he did it. There was a darkness in his eyes, something Veldrin did not like. Nor, she thought, did she like Abelas' dead eyes – still for the first time, he sought and met her glance, and greeted her by a slow, downwards moment of his golden pupils alone.

The other three men present did not even try to stand; two of these, Veldrin did not know, but one wore Nevarran regalia so resplendent that it might have given sight to the blind-born, and the other, a suit of armour so heavy and elaborate that Veldrin might have excused him from standing, just to make sure he did not burst a head vein with the effort of lifting such weight.

The third of these was, of course, Arl Teagan, beaming with the satisfaction of one who knew Ferelden had just conquered unassailable Minrathous, and he would be the one to announce it…

'I said, you will stand for the Lady Patience,' Lady Mystery repeated, and this time, there was nothing sweet or melodious in her voice – as if their very clothes had come to entrap them, all three offenders mechanically stood, and, as if the very same clothes had carried well sewn puppeteer's strings, all bowed, in unison, and so bowed they remained.

'Is it my sister's pleasure that we hurt the foolish man who still, despite all that he's been granted, regards her as an enemy?' Mystery casually asked. Arl Teagan ground his teeth so much that strands of saliva escaped his lips.

'No, Lady Mystery,' Veldrin tiredly said. 'I have no desire of feign respect from those who don't respect me. Free them of your will.'

The Augur shrugged her shoulders, and all three men straightened; she did not get a moment of pause. Not even for a half breath.

'This truth I've come to witness before all! Andraste is reborn!' the man in heavy armour cried, lifting his arms to the ceiling and causing his armour to creak deafeningly. 'The Maker's Bride comes to strike what is unholy from the world of the Maker!'

Veldrin coughed, swallowing bile so that she would not spill it from her mouth. She waved her hands, bidding all to wait; she was aware of Cassandra's glance upon her.

'Ah,' Veldrin said, discretely wiping her lips. 'I see,' she said.

'Have a seat, Lady Patience,' Radonis said, glumly, gesturing towards his own chair – it was the only unoccupied one. 'You look like you need one…I have already asked the gentlemen from Ferelden and Starkheaven where Andraste is,' he followed, gently passing his hand over Veldrin's shoulders as she accepted his offer. 'They cannot reveal this to us, not while we still worship the false gods.'

'You among them, self-anointed Herald of Andraste.' Arl Teagan said, 'Lady Patience, or whatever name you go by these days…Ferelden was never fooled by you!'

'I see that I have missed much,' Veldrin said, gratefully accepting a cup of too sweet wine from her husband; Dorian put his hand on her wrist and held it tightly enough for the hold to be painful. 'You have missed much too, Arl Teagan,' she said, kissing the glass but putting it back down. 'You've forgotten to call me she-wolf.'

She exchanged a glance with Radonis.

'Repeat, for Magistra Pavus' benefit, what the consequences of Tevinter refusing to acknowledge the newly reborn Andraste, while acknowledging Arlathan, might be.' The Archon said.

'War. From Ferelden to Orlais, from the Free Marches to Antiva – of all the human nations over the dregs of the elves. War, not in the way,' Arl Teagan cackled, 'that this one envisioned it!'

He whipped his arm towards Radonis.

'Because this one,' he followed, speaking to all and none, 'envisioned an insidious war, a war without bloodshed – a war where we have to buy from them, after their devilish elven allies impoverished us, sickened us, took away our crops, our industry, our trade…hoped to subdue our faith and traditions, our safeguards against the wildfires of magic! No, not your insidious war. We'll fight the true war, sweeping the world with blood and fire, war, the war to end all wars!'

'While I assured the gentleman from Ferelden that none of us will want that.' Radonis said, dryly.

'Orlais, too, assured that it does not acknowledge this…display, most extravagant,' Briala said, very politely, 'and furthermore, we shall be grateful to the honourable Ferelden representative not to speak on the behalf of Her Radiance until such fanciful and dangerous declarations have passed through official channels…'

'Pfeh,' the heavily armoured man from Starkheaven muttered, under his breath. 'We know all about your channels, elf, official and un-official, and all unholy in the Maker's sight…'

'Besides,' the Nevarran man followed, uneasily loosening the too tight, ruffled collar of his shirt, 'you, yourself have no official capacity. You should not even be present.'

'Consider Ambassador Briala officially acknowledged at this point,' Radonis said, with a smile that could normally only spell doom. 'I am sure accreditation letters shall be exchanged…'

'No later than an hour from now, your grace,' Briala nodded, sitting up even straighter in her chair. 'And, while I am ill-placed to speak for Her Radiance, Celene Valmont the First, I doubt that she and her Empire will participate in any…how you say? War to end all wars…'

Empowered by Briala's nerves, which seemed to be wound of steel as fine and tight as the one that made up the Starkheaven representative's armour, Josephine Montyliet also found her voice.

'I,' she began, then shyly adjusted her voice with a light cough, 'also doubt that the Kingdom of Antiva and the, ah, principality of Rivain are interested in any war to end all wars. My mandate,' she spoke, in a graceful tone, 'perhaps is, in a way, greater than that of Marquise Briala, for I have been empowered, by Her Majesty, the Queen of Antiva and priceless protector to Rivain…'

'Home to whores, pirates and louts,' Arl Teagan scoffed.

'But also men whose manners are so well honed, that they speak not over women,' Josephine said – this time, she'd found not only her words and her smile, but also the steel within herself. 'As I was saying,' she coldly reiterated, 'I am empowered to speak for Her Majesty, and Antiva shall definitely not participate in whimsy of such scale. Not only does Antiva have no meaningful standing land army, but recent and unfortunate events have rendered the Felicissima Armada not quite as formidable as we might like it. That aside, we, as a nation of honourable traders, object to bloodshed. Ambassador Briala may need to wait for Her Radiance's response to this distraction, but I do not. Antiva and Rivain regard such actions and threats as wasteful, and those who proffer them quite...exalted.'

'You may not count on us,' she ended, 'though we shall welcome and rejoice the Maiden's rebirth, should it be proven true.'

The armoured man from Starkheaven emitted an offended huff that might have rivalled a bull's. 'By whom, acknowledged? By the aiders and abetters of Tevinter's heresy?'

'Well,' Razikale dreamily said, deeply breathing of her pipe, 'let's test that heresy by having you return to your inglorious gnats of people, your mind so thoroughly wiped that you shall stand in open prayer to me, before your so-called prophet…'

'Don't, Lady Mystery,' Veldrin whispered.

''Tis but a thought,' Razikale smiled. 'Patience, little sister, is your domain. To claim it for myself would be to encroach.'

'It will just grant more credence to…whatever this is.' Veldrin sighed. 'Cassie…I mean, your worship,' she hastily corrected; she looked upon her friend with hope, but also sympathy.

'I will understand if you wish to…'

'I do,' Cassandra said, for the first time standing away from the window, and taking off the tall hat that caused beads of sweat to gather on her forehead. 'There is none,' she uncertainly spoke, smoothing her short, rebellious and silver streaked hair with her still calloused hand, 'that would welcome the return of the Maker's Bride more than I.'

'This is acknowledged,' Razikale said, smiling wide. 'Misguided words of hollow songs can still a good tune carry.'

Van Markham loosened his collar further.

'Still,' Cassandra followed, striding by the desk and dropping her new and much taller hat by the silver display case in which Radonis now stored the useless Blade of Mercy, 'it does sound strange to me that upon her revival, the Maker's Bride would call for such a conflict…'

'Ah,' the Starkheaven man said, in despise, 'You have no word here…By a false prophet appointed, by a heretic held up – a true Divine is not a doll strung by so many strings…'

'The truly faithful,' Arl Teagan replied, 'see true.'

Unphased, Cassandra loosened the first three buttons of her robes' collar, revealing that she wore chainmail underneath, then kitted her fingers together, only to crack them, loudly, and with great pleasure.

'I was not done speaking, Sir,' she said, in a tone that could almost have passed for courteous.

'The Maiden of the Alamarr brought truth by sword, and shield and spear!' Arl Teagan breathed.

'By sword and shield and spear, yes,' Cassandra replied, stretching her fingers out and causing them to menacingly crack once more. 'But to whom did she bring this war, knower of the Chant? To the unwary peasant? To the travelling merchant? To the elves?'

'To the gates of Minrathous,' the man from Starkheaven croaked.

'Of course,' Cassandra spat. 'To the gates of unassailable Minrathous…But not to the people of her Champion.'

'The Canticle of Shartan is heresy,' Arl Teagan said, with wicked satisfaction.

'Many among us do not regard it as such,' the Divine replied. 'Those who profess such scholarly knowledge of the Chant might know that it is one of the few texts come to us from primary sources…'

'Besides,' Radonis smirked, 'you seem a little fickle in choosing your Holy Writ. The Sunburst throne has held, for ages, that the Canticle of Hessarian is heresy, too, yet here lies the Blade of Mercy, physically tangible and within your reach.'

'Enough of this,' the Starkheaven knight growled, darting to his feet. 'We have come to state, not argue. The Maiden of the Alamarr returns; the Chantry will bow to her, even if the Divine does not.'

'The Chantry may bow to whomever it wishes to bow,' Lusacan said, dryly; he stood away from the bookcase, and took a single step forth – it was enough for all displays of fierce faith and courage to vanish. Suddenly, and despite the fact that in his human form, the dragon God was a good foot shorter than the knight, and probably carried a fifth of his weight, the Starkheaven man froze, and began shivering from all his joints. 'The priestess of the misguided song may bow to whomever she wishes, too,' he said, meeting Cassandra's glance, and offering a mere, indifferent shrug to her obvious surprise. 'So warlike and imposing, this, your Maker…' he dreamily added, taking another step forth, and causing the knight to collapse back in his chair, as if his knees had melted.

Razikale too circled, gracefully placing her little hand on Arl Teagan's shoulder as she so did. '…and yet so weak your faith in him,' she whispered. 'So ascertained you are of his power that you wet your britches when we merely gaze at you…Will the Maiden of the Alamarr not spring forth to protect you? Why fear us so, when behind her shield you stand? Unless her shield is made of glass, her spear a twig, and her sword is a toy?' she sweetly chimed.

Radonis tiredly smiled and nodded, his hand still resting on Veldrin's shoulder.

'The honourable representatives of the Free Marches, Nevarra and Ferelden,' he said, with a little bow of his head, 'have requested an audience, and this has been granted them. They may, indeed, return to their homelands proud to have…witnessed,' he spoke, grinning thinly, 'to the rebirth of the Maiden of Alamarr, the Maker's Bride, before all of the…what word would they employ, your worship?' he asked, looking to the Divine.

'Heretics,' Cassandra said, dryly. 'As still head of the Holy Chantry, both North and South, I would soften this word to merely unconvinced.'

'Antiva regards this choice of words most wise,' Josephine nodded, and Radonis tilted his head in agreement.

'As does Tevinter.' He agreeably said. 'We hence assure the most honourable gentlemen of our good will, and our good hope that the Maker's Bride shall pour great blessings upon them, and the lands they hail from. We also assure them, however,' he added, his voice turning as cold as Lusacan's breath, 'that all those who bring war to unassailable Minrathous shall start no war to end all wars.'

'They'll start a war that merely ends them,' the heir to Darinius concluded. 'The Imperium is not threatened by words; muster an army, and we shall meet it, and crush it. Declare open war, and we shall crush your armies before you do have time to set up camp.'

'Are we to understand that you are deaf?' Arl Teagan said, in a voice that he might have hoped impressive, yet was merely an echo of the majesty of Radonis' own tone.

'No, of course not,' the Archon said. 'We have acquiesced part of your demands; we have no wish to deny the existence of the Maker's Bride. However, the latter part of your polite demands cannot and shall not be granted.'

It was the first, and only thing that Abelas reacted to, and not in a way that Veldrin might have expected – the Sentinel shifted his glance to Radonis, undeniable hope in the depths of his eyes.

'The Magisterium has voted on terms with Arlathan,' the man said, plainly. 'The Tilani-Pavus motion has been passed by a majority of Senate, and it is not only not in our power, but also not in our will to renege on our word, once given. In sight of all, and its Eternal Gods, Tevinter recognises Arlathan as sovereign.'

'Then,' Teagan said, finding his arrogant, true voice, 'we shall have to test whether Arlathan too can claim that it is unassailable. Do you not fear this, elf?' he asked of Abelas and Veldrin both, pointedly ignoring Briala.

The two exchanged a glance, perhaps, for the first time, feeling as if they truly stood on the same side.

'The Elvhen nation has spent too many centuries in fear of you,' Veldrin said, between gritted teeth.

'Not only with the life-span of children, but with the wisdom of children too,' Abelas followed.

The Starkheaven knight gritted his teeth, and visibly fought himself to stand. 'Too well,' he said. 'None shall see mercy in the war to end all wars.'

'Ah, hah,' Razikale chuckled. 'Such mighty words astound us, truly…'

'Just, for your enlightenment, remember that such mighty words cut both ways,' Lusacan said. 'Have you spoken your full piece now?' he muttered. 'The Lady Patience's peaceful resilience can only shield you so far.'

'We believe we have spoken all that needed to be said, yes,' Teagan answered; Radonis shrugged.

'Then, all who plan war on Tevinter may leave this chamber and this city, now,' the Archon said.

'By either the door or the window, on a horse or in a hearse,' Razikale completed. 'You have a count of five to choose.'

There was an interesting shuffle, then – Starkheaven's knight and Teagan spun on their heels and chose the door, needing not a count of three to make their choice. The Nevarran ambassador stood, for a heartbeat, then resolutely sat back down, digging his nails into the armrests of the chair he was occupying, lowering his head and closing his eyes to avoid meeting the glances of his two erstwhile companions and men of the shared faith.

Equally surprising was the fact that Briala stood and curtsied, making to leave; she did not head straight for the door though, but rather, chose an interesting path to it, one that carried her behind the Archon's desk.

'I cannot speak for Celene until I have informed her,' she whispered, for Veldrin and Radonis alone. 'This puts Orlais at war with Ferelden, a thing Her Radiance has spent her life to avoid. I am leaving the room, but not the city, if your grace shall allow…'

Radonis nodded curtly.

'Worse come to worse, you'll have a pointed ear on them,' the Orlesian elf spoke, in equal haste. Her shoulders straight and her mask firmly in its place, she followed Teagan and the Starkheaven emissary out of the room.

No one else budged.

The Archon briefly closed his eyes, then opened a side door to let his cats in. He also magically summoned wine and cups; with all the world shifting about her, Veldrin could only be assured of two things: Dorian's hand covering hers, and that this particular wine would not be horribly sweet.

'Is this what you meant when you said time and fate had lost his patience with Abelas?' Veldrin asked, once the seat reshuffling had been done, and the two cats had found their sweet spots – one on Cassandra's lap, the other on Radonis' shoulders.

All were now seated, and all, even Abelas had a cup in hand.

'Yes,' Razikale said.

'Varric assures me she is not Andraste,' Josephine said, drinking half her cup in a single gulp.

'Varric, Varric, Varric!' Cassandra all but shouted. 'One day, I'll get that dwarf…Why did he not warn us? And why are you still here?' she asked, turning her angry gaze to Ambassador Van Markham.

The man shifted uneasily in his chair; now that his collar was completely loose, he had no other way of marking his doubts known.

'Oh, Divine Victoria, Cassandra Philomena Nicola Fiorentina…' he began.

'Get on with it!' the Divine growled.

'Lady Penthaghast,' the man yielded, 'I…Nevarra does not wish war on Tevinter. I thought the Andraste revival a jest at worst, a flag of rallied hopes at best, not one of…utter madness!' he breathed. 'I thought the madman from Starkheaven picked a peasant girl with the likeness of a painting! I never thought they would drag me in here to declare war on the Imperium and its…its dragons, I mean, Eternal Gods! But…But you can see it, can you not, Cassandra Philomena…'

'Anyone with eyes could,' Josephine said, finishing her cup. It was magically refilled. 'Nevarra borders on Tevinter, the Free Marches and Ferelden. Start war along two borders, the third will get greedy, too.'

'Yes,' the man conceded, finishing his cup in turn.

'By staying, you have proven wisdom to our eyes, Alexander Vladimir Nicolai Florian Daniel Mihail Van Markham.' Razikale said, taking a deep drag of her pipe. 'I think the Heir of Darinius would show wisdom by inviting in the said Child of Stone, the one of House Tethras…'

'So I can strangle him,' Cassandra muttered.

'That would be unwise,' Lusacan replied. 'The Child of the Stone is immune to magic, so his words to you, priestess, might be worth their weight in gold. You would not believe us if we spoke them.'

'Thus…' Josephine dared, 'he is right? She is not…'

'Forgive me, Lord Watcher,' Dorian interrupted, 'but if you knew of this, why did you not…'

Razikale shrugged, answering in her brother's stead. 'No outcomes might have been positively altered by sharing this knowledge. At least now, our little sister and her inexplicable protegee have their city, and the Imperium will soon be in shape to, indeed, crush - from the moment we took flight, war was on the horizon.'

'We did not rush it,' Lusacan followed, 'and we hope all here present shall recall that, mortal memory being as short as it is…'

He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, pointlessly so, for it immediately escaped and fell across his forehead once more.

''Tis not as dire as it seems. Or at least, it is not dire in the way you imagine it.' Razikale calmly said. Even the smoke of her pipe was slightly soothing to all, including the Archon's pets, for the two cats now seemed to have taken to some pleasurable insanity and were rolling on the floor, purring with undisguised happiness.

'Forgive me, Lady Mystery,' the Archon said, 'but it does look very dire from where I am standing.'

'Orlais will not fight you,' Razikale said. 'As we are speaking, Briala of no House, Marquise of her own making, is writing a passionate plea for Orlais not to join the fray – her heart, the Radiant Empress will not deny this plea. Orlais will dither, and Celene Valmont will do what she does best: play for time.'

'Do you actually know this?' the stunned Nevarran ambassador asked.

'She does,' Cassandra curtly replied, then frowned, as the man's face turned into the very representation of grief.

'So, in the end,' he sorrowfully said, 'Arl Teagan was right; the faith you serve is not the Chantry…'

'My faith,' the Divine said, after kissing her cup of wine, 'has seen many challenges in recent months. Yet, even without Varric's testimony, I cannot see the Maker's Bride wishing such destruction. It's this, and not the fact that I have taken to some new Gods that makes me doubt this is truly Andraste. I shall need to ascertain it, though.' She said, looking to Veldrin.

'Good Gods, I do too,' Vel answered, with no hesitation. 'Not because…' she added, casting an apologetic glance to Lusacan – the dragon God merely shrugged.

'You will not find anything to soothe your heart, little sister,' Lusacan said; he refilled his cup, then, to Van Markham's obvious surprise, bent over the table to refill Dorian's.

'Is this what we feared was coming from the outset?' the Magister asked.

Lusacan contented himself on a nod.

'I…I apologise,' Josephine hesitantly said, 'but…what did you fear, Dorian?'

'The return of the Evanuris,' Veldrin replied, in her husband's stead.

Josephine shuddered, and pleadingly looked about herself. 'It cannot be,' she whispered, 'that there was no Maker…It cannot be…Eternal Gods of Tevinter, I again ask for your pardon, yet…'

'No need to do so,' Razikale shrugged, taking another deep breath of her pipe. 'Politeness cannot hide you from us, Josephine Montilyet. You do not think us Gods, and we have neither the desire nor the compunction to convince you that we are – false Gods have it. True Gods do not. False Gods need miracles and prophets. True Gods do not.'

Lusacan shrugged as well.

'There might be a Maker,' he said, 'but if there is one, he is not the one your prophet and her song describe. We,' he followed, locking eyes with his sister, 'do not deny his existence, for we too were created, as were the spirits of the beyond, the beasts of the woods, the round-eared folk, the horned folk, and the people alike. None of our races materialised from dew and sand.'

'Neither did we,' Razikale completed, sincerely. 'We too were born of man and woman, before we rose.'

'What do you doubt then?' Van Markham asked – he, too, was pale as wax.

'Andraste, in both her first and her second coming,' Lusacan dryly said. 'This will be an insult to your ears, Cassandra Philomena…'

'Lord Watcher, can we please not start…' the Divine said, rolling her eyes and sighing deeply.

'Divine Victoria, then,' Lusacan conceded, with a brief nod. 'The first Andraste, as your misguided song described her, could not have existed. She did exist, nonetheless; there are records of her life and there are records of her miracles…'

'She was a human mage, unware of her power, possessed by one of the Undying,' Dorian said, dryly; all frowned.

'That is what Tevinter has always held; the latter part is unheard of, though…' the Nevarran ambassador chocked out.

'True,' Radonis answered, lifting his cup to his lips and looking into nothingness beyond its rim, before focussing on Dorian. 'Why do you say that, Magister Pavus?' he softly asked. 'The Undying are held as evil by all races, and Andraste, whomever she was, whatever she was, was a good woman.'

Razikale shook her head.

'Not all of the Undying are evil,' she replied. 'The reasons why such legends are held by one and all is that the most peaceful among them rarely meddle with humans. 'Tis thus that only misdeeds are recalled…Yet you, Dawnbringer,' the dragon Goddess followed, tilting her head to the side at an odd angle, as a lizard might have, 'bring forth a curious supposition.'

'It's a logical assumption,' Dorian said, biting his lower lip in thought. 'Andraste's miracles were beyond mortal powers, and even if she had been a trained a mage, as the Northern Chantry has always held, this was never proven in recorded history…'

'It is not unlikely, though,' Veldrin picked up, in the same thoughtful tone. 'The closest kin of the Alamarr still alive today are the Avvar, and they freely consort with spirits.'

Cassandra doubtfully shook her head. 'If Andraste had been an augur, the Chant would have made note of it.'

'Which is why I think she was unaware of her gifts,' Dorian responded. 'Thus, I think both Chantries were wrong – she was not a trained mage, as the North has always held, but she was no simple warrior either...What?' he irritably asked, when Cassandra scowled horribly in his direction. 'I said I did not believe in the Chant, not that I haven't read it,' he muttered.

'Is it possible for this to be true again now?' Veldrin asked of her husband – he shrugged slightly. 'It would be advantageous to us all, since the Lady Mystery…'

Razikale slowly shook her head. 'I can see some logic in what the Dawnbringer asserts. One of the peaceful or neutral Undying may well have descended to bring some order to a Godless world once, but the Undying were never enemies to us, nor are their powers a slither of our own. The only one who might be willing to cause chaos on such a scale, the one you know so well, Lady Patience, knows this better than all; he knows we would make brief work of his display.'

'Further,' Lusacan picked up, 'we may discount the Nevarran's ambassador's supposition – if this…Andraste were a peasant girl in the likeness of a painting, she would be visible to my gaze. She is hidden, though, as only those akin to us can be.'

'So, what you are basically telling us, Lord Watcher,' Radonis concluded, biting his lower lip, 'is that of all possibilities, only the very worst remains...why did you not warn us?' the Archon whispered.

The dragon God shook his head. 'Our sister has told you precisely why, Heir to Darinius. Our powers are boundless, but Tevinter's armies are still crippled; if she had surfaced before our pact with Arlathan was struck, this war to end all wars would still have been won, but at great cost.'

'Hence why you were so generous,' Abelas bitterly whispered; Razikale measured him with half-lidded eyes and a cruel smirk in the corner of her lips.

'You did not think we allowed you existence out of love for you, did you, Sorrow?' she mockingly asked. 'Such an ungrateful critter…' she sighed, taking a long drag of her pipe, and exhaling towards the ceiling. 'Does it so greatly matter why we showed you mercy? You exist, now, and you have allies – or do you think your ruin of a city could have withstood a human army rising from the Free Marches and Ferelden alike? We've always known where you dwell, and so does this false prophetess…'

'So you still think that she is one of the Evanuris?' Josephine bitterly inquired.

'She can be nothing else,' Lusacan shrugged. 'And sadly, I think I can well guess which one of them she is.'

'Andruil,' Abelas whispered; the Lord Watcher gave him a long, charged stare, but nodded, at length.

'Andruil,' he expressionlessly confirmed.

'How can you know, if you cannot see her?' Veldrin inquired, with a small frown.

Razikale thoughtfully chewed on the stem of her pipe. 'Sylaise was never a warmonger, and neither was June. Mythal is now truly dead, Ghilan'nain too weak and naïve for such a ruse. Elghar'nan and Dirthamen would have manifested differently, for the former, if returned, would not need humans to rain fire 'pon the realm, and the latter might have been…'

She dryly chuckled.

'…amenable, until the opportunity to backstab us arose.'

'And Andruil is the only shape-shifter of the lot,' Abelas spoke up, once more. 'It stands to reason.'

'How can you all know this, to such precise extent? The Elvhen pantheon predated…' the Nevarran asked, in great surprise; Cassandra sighed and lowered her glance.

'It is a story for a different time,' the Divine said; she cast an unreadable glance at Radonis. 'Your grace,' she began, 'I…All that's been said here makes sense. I still cannot, as the head of the Chantry…'

Radonis pressed his index and middle finger between his eyes, but nodded.

'Nor should you,' he tiredly said. 'Now that this news is out, you will be expected to meet the Maker's Bride, perhaps bow to her…We'll fight no fault with you if, in your heart, she reignites the Maker's fire.'

The man tried to smile.

'I know,' Radonis kindly followed, 'that you wish it were so; I assume the same is true for you, Ambassador Montilyet.'

'Indeed, your grace,' Josephine replied, with a small incline of her head.

The Archon stood and turned away from all, looking out the window.

'I guess it was too much to hope for…' he whispered. 'Lasting peace…'

To Vel's surprise, Cassandra stood in her turn, and placed a hand on the man's crooked shoulder. 'Not so, Clodius Radonis,' she softly said. 'If this woman is the Maker's Bride, she will heed reason, and not unleash destruction upon all creation. If she is not…'

'…if she is not, and you declare she isn't, the Chantry will disregard you, as it will disregard us all,' Veldrin said, in barely repressed anger. 'It is not as if any of us will have a voice – think who we all are: Tevinter, elvhen, mages, one lonely dwarf…'

'Hm,' Josephine said, after a moment of tense silence. 'I can think of one whose voice might have some meaning.'

Dorian looked to her and frowned, then gazed into his cup of wine, while softly spinning it. 'Vivienne de Fer, you mean.' He expressionlessly said. 'My favourite person on the continent.'

'If it all is but a magical ruse,' Josephine nodded, 'the Grand Enchanter should see through it.'

'Not sure how much credibility that will lend us with the Southern Chantry, Josie,' Vel said. 'She's still a mage.'

'Not much credibility within the Chantry, true,' the Antivan said, an apologetic ring in her voice, 'but it will at least prevent the Southern Mages from joining the fray – or perhaps some of them,' she bitterly ended. 'In any event…'

'In any event,' Cassandra muttered, 'if this woman is not Andraste, we will be right back where we started a decade ago. An army of mages pitted against an army of Templars, with the common folk now squarely pitted against mages, and the Elvhen…Can we not…' she began, her hand slipping off Radonis' shoulder, 'simply…acknowledge this woman?'

Radonis half turned toward her and shrugged. 'As I have said, we have nothing against acknowledging her, yet if she is…Andruil,' he brought himself to say, 'that will mean nothing. Also, Cassandra,' he followed, with a kind smile, 'would you allow your faithful to believe in a false God?'

'If it saves their lives, yes,' Cassandra softly answered. 'If we avert all out war, the peace of my soul is a small price to pay.'

'A wise and honest woman you are, Cassandra Philomena,' Van Markham said, sounding impressed.

'No,' the Divine contradicted, in painful simplicity. 'Just a woman who has seen too much blood shed, and wishes to see no more of it.'

'Perhaps we are all wrong, and she is Andraste.'

All looked up in shock, for it had been Razikale to utter the words.

'Now I think you have smoked entirely too much,' her brother replied, with a horrible scowl.

'While I,' the dragon Goddess spoke, 'think that you, Lord Watcher have smoked entirely too little and forget your purpose within the greater meaning,' Razikale responded, smiling sadly. 'We must never forget, my brother, that there is no number of innocents to be slaughtered that would justify merely destroying a Temple. If one we fell, we would not be better than Pride and his ilk...'

Abelas winced, but lowered his eyes and uttered no words.

'If, however, they bring war to unassailable Minrathous,' Razikale said, breathing out smoke though her nose and then inhaling it back though her barely parted lips, 'we will retaliate. If they bring war to Arlathan, we will show them that Arlathan, too, is unassailable. So the Gods speak. So it shall be. I am out of herbs – rush, mortals,and more herbs fetch me.' She concluded.

You might have thought we'd disappeared, but we have not. We are also pleased to inform that this chapter is now the end of Arc 2, and the beginning of Arc 3, and Arc 3 is fully written, so y'all shall be getting a steady stream of posting for the next 3-4 months. Arc 4 and final is already in the works.

Thank you all for reading and commenting,

Cheers,

Abstract & IvI