This week I'm researching education for reasons that are unclear to everyone, including me. I just...fell down a rabbit-hole, apparently. But it's interesting! I just learned I'm in the minority of people who give relatively little weight to the grade and pour over the comments to see what I did right and what I messed up.

Grand Games and Meager Mercies

I spoke to Solas about my idea of dressing as Shartan for the ball before I worked up the courage to bring it to Leliana. Solas might not know much about court - and certainly not the Orlesian court - but he was subtle and quick to spot nuances others might overlook. If it was a transparently terrible idea for reasons I was too inexperienced to spot, he would likely know.

He was surprised - more than surprised, really. Stunned. "Do you know the mural by Henri de Lydes?" I asked him.

"There was a reproduction in Adamant's chapel, was there not? Beyond that, I have only seen depictions in books," he replied. "That, I take it, is the version of Shartan which you wish to draw upon."

"It's the most famous," I said with a shrug, "largely owing to the fact that it was one of the few to escape the Chantry purge of such representations."

He didn't say anything for a long moment, and I could feel the thoughts churning through his mind, even though he rode just a little too far away for me to see his expression clearly. "I fear I can't predict the many layers of meaning that might be read into such a choice," he said at length. "Still," he went on in a lower voice, "it seems to me bold and nuanced both - a worthy move in principle, regardless whether those with more experience than I might have good reasons for rejecting it."

"So you think I should present the idea to Leliana?" I asked.

I could see him well enough to observe the smile that stretched his lips. "You choose your method of approach well, too. Your spymaster is bolder in such matters than Ambassador Montilyet - or even our Madame de Fer. And she has greater sympathy for elves and mages than the rest of your advisors."

It still took me most of the day to marshal my arguments and find the courage to approach her. I asked Solas to wish me luck and urged my horse to a faster pace only when I realized how soon the sun would slip behind the hills at our backs. We would set camp in the twilight, and there would be no time or place for private conversations then.

Leliana was already riding alone, reflecting, I thought, on some piece of news one of her scouts had brought for her. "Good evening, Inquisitor," she greeted me as I approached.

"On dhea'lam, Leliana," I replied, somehow aware of her curiosity even though I couldn't see her face, and knew it would be fixed in a pleasant mask even if I were able to see it. I took a breath. "I have some thoughts on my appearance at the Winter Palace, and I need your expertise in the Game to know whether they are worthwhile thoughts or utter madness."

"Well, now I am intrigued," my spymaster replied lightly. "Please, share your thoughts."

"Halamshiral was once the capital of the Dales," I pointed out, probably unnecessarily, but one could never be certain what a shemlen might know about elven history. "I know that I am representing far more than only elves - but I am representing elves, and I wouldn't have that get lost in the sea of diplomatic…" I sought an appropriate word.

" Niceness ," Leliana supplied dismissively.

"Well…yes," I admitted. "I can't stop history from docking my ears, but I don't want to help it do so."

"As it did to Shartan," Leliana murmured.

"Which is why I would like to go as Shartan," I said. "Specifically Shartan as depicted by Henri de Lydes."

"Oh," she replied so quietly, and with so little inflection, that I knew I had startled her. After a moment, she laughed softly. "Oh, Josie is going to hate it. But…" She paused again. "I fear we need to consult with someone else - not Josephine, someone accustomed to stirring up strategic trouble," Leliana went on briskly.

I could only think of one person that might describe. "Vivienne?" I asked.

"Vivienne," Leliana agreed.

"You aren't dismissing the idea outright," I observed.

"Oh no, I believe it an inspired tactical maneuver," my spymaster assured me. "We must simply ensure it is the right tactic in this circumstance, and I fear to overlook even a single angle from which it might be viewed. There is so much nuance involved in such a statement - we will require ways of directing interpretations along the correct paths." I saw her tilt her head. "I wonder: what symbolism do you see in this choice?"

I let out a slow breath, thinking it over. "There's the obvious, of course: I'm an elf in Halamshiral, capital of the lands that Emperor Drakon promised to my people because of Shartan's faithfulness and his ultimate sacrifice." Leliana's head moved in what I presumed to be a nod, and so I continued. "That part is a challenge and a reminder of the lack of faith Orlais has demonstrated. The fact that I am drawing upon an image of Shartan whose ears were docked at the behest of the Chantry - that part is also a challenge, and perhaps a warning. On the other hand, according to Chantry legend - and the legends of my own people - Shartan was named Andraste's champion. While there is no indication he believed in her god or thought her a prophet, he still fought faithfully by her side and died trying to defend her, because he believed in her cause and in her ability to see it through."

"That part reflects you - the one we have named Herald of Andraste," Leliana said.

"Yes," I agreed. "That part isn't a challenge - it's a promise."

"I see all of that," Leliana said, "and also a few additional implications. Henri de Lydes was an Orlesian artist. Drawing on his image of Shartan implies faith that Orlais can live up to its noblest ideals. It is, however, also a direct challenge to Celene after the burning of the elven quarter in Halamshiral last year."

I choked. "The - the what ?"

Leliana's voice was still soft and pleasant, and I could hear the smile in it - but I also heard the honest surprise and remorse beneath the mask: "I'm so sorry, Inquisitor. I assumed - I believe Josie and I both assumed - that you knew. There were uprisings among the elves in several cities in protest."

"I'm not from a city," I reminded her. "News of such things often reaches the Dalish slowly, if it does at all. We have more contact with humans than we do with our cousins trapped in alienages. The presence of a Dalish elf in an alienage can spark its own reprisal, depending on the city. We protect them as much as we can with our absence."

"I see," Leliana murmured. "You have my most sincere apologies, Inquisitor. There was an uprising in Halamshiral last year after a well-respected elven merchant was murdered by a nobleman. Celene had the entire quarter burned to pacify her nobles, and because Justinia refused to become involved the civil war until the matter was resolved."

Anger kindled. "And - what - your precious Divine didn't care whether the Empress brought a murderer to justice or murdered those who spoke out against him?" I demanded.

"Quite the reverse, at least in private," Leliana said softly. "In private, Justinia was furious with Celene - but she needed her support to convene the Conclave, just as Celene needed the Chantry's support to hold her throne."

What sort of answer was that? I glared at the blur I knew to be Leliana's face. "And we are supporting her…why?"

"Because Celene's chevaliers commit such atrocities when ordered. Gaspard's commit them in drunken revelry, or because they lost at cards, or for any whim, on any pretext," Leliana replied.

"And this is the shape of shemlen mercy for elves?" I asked bitterly. It wasn't a revelation - I knew of Dalish clans wiped out for any and no reason. But the city elves? Few parts of Orlais could function without their elven servants - no city of any size could. I had thought that would gain them a degree of protection. Wasn't that why so many elves had accepted Andrastianism and gone to the cities in the first place?

I was and had been a naïve fool.

"I am going as Shartan," I decided.

The spymaster was silent for a moment. "As you will, Inquisitor," she said. "At least," she sighed, "it will effectively quell any rumors that you angle for a title or, worse, the throne itself."

I nodded along, but my mind was elsewhere, racing along alternate paths that bypassed my well-meaning but ultimately very human advisors. The person I needed was Sera.

"Talk to Vivienne," I told Leliana when she was finished musing. "I don't want my choice entirely defanged, but find ways to soften it with the dress worn by the rest of the retinue if you must. I haven't yet decided who will be in the palace with me - give me a few days and I'll give you my preferred list. Then we can discuss it."

"A few days will give me time to come up with my preferred list," Leliana replied.

By the time I left Leliana, there was no time to find Sera before we stopped for the night - the army was already coming to a halt and I had a tent to erect just like everyone else. Someone did invariably come by to help me erect it - thankfully, or it probably would have fallen in on me as often as not. But what I planned to discuss with her wasn't sensitive in the way that my conversations with Leliana, Josephine, and often Cullen were sensitive. It didn't occur to most people to care about what elves in an alienage thought or did, at least not as long as it didn't include a wholesale uprising. Discussions of aid the Inquisition could offer, more in the form of supplies than weapons? Contingency plans so they had safe places to go if their quarter were to be attacked? These were of little interest.

I caught Sera after dinner and asked her to walk with me, even though the wind was picking up and it was still a mere breath away from frigid. "Did you know that Celene burned the elven quarter in Halamshiral after a nobleman murdered a merchant and the elves there tried to demand justice?" I asked her without preamble.

"Heard about it, sure," she replied. "Not really a surprise - big people think they can step on little people. Bet Briala's at the peace talks just so the rich tits can blame her, whichever side loses. Hope she hid her people well, but she can't hide everyone. Slums'll get it - you'll see - and Halamshiral don't have human slums."

My laugh was utterly devoid of humor - bitter as the cold desert wind. "You know, there's a story the Dalish tell about a young Keeper who agreed to meet with some mayors and elders of nearby human towns about establishing a regular, codified trade relationship. While he was gone, his clan was slaughtered by mercenaries hired with the pooled funds of the towns he sought to make treaties with."

She grunted. "Did it happen? Like…for real?"

"Oh yes," I told her. "Clan Alhavenlan. The young Keeper found a neighboring clan and lived long enough to tell the story. They found him hanging from a tree a few days later. Suicide." I took a breath. "I need you in Halamshiral early - immediately, really. I need you to talk to people, find ways to make the elves - and any humans unlucky enough to live among them - more secure, or ways to get people out of the city."

"They'll need supplies," Sera pointed out. "Bows, maybe - but food for sure. Blankets, if they're sleeping rough. Wood 'n nails 'n shite for barricades."

"I'll find supplies or the money for them somewhere," I promised, "even if I have to personally unstitch the gold buckles and whatnot from my clothing."

She snorted. "You've seen what you wear, yeah? Start with Lady Ambassador-breeches Josephine - lots more gold on her …breeches. And things. Shut up."

I gave her a wry smile, but otherwise let it pass. "I want you to scout the surrounding area, too - look for somewhere that we could quietly set up a camp. Children and the elderly, at least, should be ferried out of the city before the ball. And not just elves - anyone in the slums who seems vulnerable. I can send soldiers to secure the camp, though obviously not into the city proper. I can," I added, "send them with you now if you would rather."

Sera snorted a laugh. "You think I travel with soldiers?"

"Well…no," I allowed. "I suppose you don't. I'll keep them until you send word, then."

She stepped in closer - to make sure I could see her expression, I supposed. "I'd take you, if you wanted to come."

"I do," I told her, sorely tempted for a moment - before I remembered how much I needed to oversee to make sure that the armor I would wear into the Winter Palace was right . "I do, but…"

"Yeah," she sighed, "I figured. Thought I'd offer, anyway."

"Perhaps I could slip into the city a few days before I'm supposed to officially arrive," I mused, turning the idea over. "I would like to meet with the people you collect personally, though I don't think it would be wise to make any kind of official visit - or any visit that could be viewed as official - before meeting with Celene and her court. Whispers that I appeared to the regular people of the city before I so much as greeted the Empress probably wouldn't hurt, however. They might…let the nobles wonder, and the people hope."

My gaze had strayed from Sera while I tried to think through all the possible implications, but when I looked at her again, she was grinning. "Knew you were a good one," she crowed. "We're gonna have fun , you'll see - none of that stuffed-arse lop-eared bullshite you'll get with all the high mucky-mucks."

I took a breath, thinking that I should probably clarify the boundaries of what Sera found "fun," but then thought the better of it. Whatever else she was or did, she consistently had a good read on what the people at the bottom of society wanted. Just like I gave Josephine a fairly free hand in crafting my image for the nobles, I would probably do well to let Sera craft my image among those whose interests she championed. "Recall I can't see very well," I reminded her, "and I'm liable to fall off of things. Otherwise, I will place my itinerary in your hands."

She wrinkled her nose. "Nothin' like that . Just talk to a few people, drink a little, dance a little, maybe steal a couple of things the rich tits won't miss anyway - all good fun."

"All good fun," I echoed with only a faint trace of irony. Leliana ordered things stolen all the time, after all. Why should I scruple to get my hands dirty? The cause was surely no less worthy. Sera would only take from those who could afford it, and likely only from those who abused their power, as well. "When do you want to leave?"

"Tonight, probably," she answered. "Lace'll give me what I need, 'specially if I say you ordered it. Would anyway, but she'll do it quicker on your order."

"Lace?" I echoed.

Sera giggled. "Yeah - Scout Harding's first name, innit? Great, yeah? She hates it. Can't think of her as anything else, now."

Lace Harding. It was somehow fitting, though I wasn't certain I would ever tell Harding I thought so. "All right. Don't feel the need to rush off, but whenever you're ready to leave…"

"Don't like this marching with the army shite - I'd rather we were off on our own doing the little things that matter. If you're finally giving me something, I'm friggin' gone , right?" Matching action to words, she stepped away from me and turned to go.

"In that case… dar'eth shiral, ma falon." She turned around long enough to make a face so exaggerated that I could see it even at a little distance. "It just means, 'safety on your journey, my friend,'" I added quickly. "I'll see you in Halamshiral in a few weeks." All at once, I remembered my promise to her in the Fade and frowned. "I'm sorry that you won't be at Skyhold to see Dagna."

She sighed, but then shrugged it away. "You work up a plan, and I'll find pretty…frilly…romance things - shut it - while I'm touring the city. Orlais is good for that shite, innit?"

"You might have better luck giving her pretty, strange, magicky things," I told the other elf. "Cater to her particular interests."

"Ohhh, like the runes and that, yeah? Yeah - good thinking, Quizzy. Think I'll steal some fancy paper from Vivvy and write it down so I remember." She began heading back towards camp with more determination.

"Going to pretend I didn't hear that last part," I called after her, aware I was smiling.

It faded as I remembered everything that would be facing me in Halamshiral, and I heaved a sigh. The wind died down long enough for me to look up at the sky without having to squint against blowing sand. One of the moons was up, and I could see that, at least.

In the little lull, I heard a sound - a cry - the cry of a beast, I thought at first. But then, behind it, I heard another sound - a voice. As the wind began to pick up again, I realized with a little start that the voice belonged to Solas, and that he sounded upset. I tested our bond. He felt upset - both wary and disgusted.

By what?

Curious, I drifted toward the sound.

On dhea'lam: Good afternoon