Running On Empty: It's A Start
Note: Celebrating the western's New Year with another chapter a bit ahead of schedule. This was is shorter than the rest, so depending on the holiday, there might be another chapter up on schedule for Monday. Either case, enjoy!
The settlement was a mess. The chaos of the fight had dispersed, but the residents of the area were still on high alert. People eyed Solas with frantic glances and Cassandra was viewed with a little more politeness above displeasure, but both of my companions took the wayward looks in stride. It seemed Varric and I were currently the only ones above reproach, as we had nothing on us that affiliated us with the warring factions.
"We'll have the Inquisition set up standards and patrols immediately." Cassandra stood at the edge of a small pond, her gaze shot back and forth between the traveling people and the incoming Inquisition soldiers that were beginning to clean up. My gaze turned to her, curious, and she sighed, her hand on the pommel of her sword. "Take note, this is what you'll be looked to, leading and commanding your forces."
"Why me, though?" I muttered darkly. "I have exactly zero experience or confidence leading anyone."
"These people need someone to guide them." Solas was very much an old professor when it came to explaining things to me. He took his time, added a hint of amused patience, and dedicated himself to detail. With a turn to him, I waited. He tilted his head to give me a sideways glance, "Cassandra or Cullen could easily lead them, but they would not have the full faith or devotion that your mark inspires. You are, for all intents and purposes, their Herald, even if you do not believe."
I grimaced and switched my gaze to Cassandra. "... help me?"
"I will." She sighed. "I... I am sorry. I forget that this is not your way of life. I will do better to assist you, in the future." Varric gave us all an odd look. Our tones and words probably made it sound strange, but I would continue to ignore his questioning glances. The less that people knew about my real past, the better things would function. The less people would burn me at the stake for being otherworldly.
A scoff escaped me. Otherworldly, me. Hardly.
A soldier of the Inquisition pranced up to us, a standard over his shoulder and a second comrade at his side. They took a moment to calm their breathing and turned to me, stern faced and hard mouthed. They saluted again in their odd way, a fist with their arm across their chest, and bobbed their heads.
"Y-yes?" I am not ready for this, not in the slightest. Solas straightened his back and shoulders behind me, just out of the corner of my eye. I did the same and rose an inch or two more from my slouch.
"Mother Giselle was located, Lady Herald." The one with the standard answered, point a ways off over a gentle hill and toward a collection of tents. "She's currently tending to the wounded. She was asked to come with us, but refused and stayed with the refugees."
"As she should," Cassandra nodded, voice low. "It is the duty of all Chantry members to care for those in need. We can walk to her, instead." I glanced between my party members and neither man looked perturbed at the idea, so I nodded in agreement. The soldiers saluted again, and this time I returned it. The second soldier, a woman of perhaps my age, lit up and fought to keep a straight face.
Mine lit up with a blush and I promptly turned on my heel to march in the direction of Mother Giselle.
The residents around us took no heed of our approach. I could see that some mages remained, heavily supervised by other soldiers or clerics of the Chantry, all of them desperately trying to attend to the mounting bodies that surrounded them. I felt my stomach heave under my ribs at the sight of a few bodies lined up, pale and stiff and deceased. Children laid amongst them, as well.
My lungs drew breath and it burned.
Mother Giselle was indeed not far and she stood from her charge, a shaking, babbling soldier who was soon seen to by another mage off to the Mother's right hand. I paused by the steps we came up and fear gripped me as my companions backed away to allow us space. Don't go! This was exactly what I was talking about, I didn't know enough of this world to be useful, or to know how to use information given to me. The best I could do was memorize and repeat for Leliana like a parrot.
"Mother Giselle?" She looked weathered, but lovely. Darkened skin that was dusted with dirt, but her robes were straightened. I ignored the blood that tinted the cuffs of her sleeves or the smears of it down her sides. She had been hard at work, it seemed. The woman tipped her head to me as she approached and I marveled at how her headdress managed to stay upon her head.
"I am." Her voice was smooth and calming. It startled me, and I stiffened my shoulders instead of relaxing. Once more, I was not the best option at all for these shenanigans. "And you must be the one they are calling The Herald of Andraste." I floundered, what was I supposed to say to that? Everything that came to mind sounded pompous.
Quietly, I bowed my head. "I was told that you asked for me, Mother." I sounded like an idiot. I felt like an idiot. I would kick Cassandra in the shins for doing this to me and abandoning me to this conversation if the kick wouldn't break all of my toes from her armor. The woman smiled at my awkwardness and led me on a walk.
"I have heard of the Chantry's denouncement." Her accent was different than Cassandra's, deeper and with more weight. I tilted an ear to her, listening so I wouldn't have to ask her to repeat herself. I followed at her side like a wayward child. "I am familiar with those behind it. I won't lie to you, some of them are merely grandstanding, or looking for a means to increase their chances of being the New Divine."
Rapidly, as we walked, I attempted to hastily gather what I could remember of Leliana and Lady Montilyet's lessons. The Chantry was vast and drew together many of the nations together (Ferelden, Orlais, Rivain, I could hear Lady Montilyet's voice echo behind my ear). Aside from Tevinter, the Chantry and its members were well respected and obeyed. You didn't raise a hand to a Chantry sister or brother and not expect at least a dozen bodies pouncing on you.
Mother Giselle turned to me and I hiccupped as I stopped before her. She frowned, but her gaze was distant. "Some of them are simply terrified. So many senselessly taken from us." I gripped the mark harder in my palm and glanced at the ground. I didn't do it rang through my head, but it was a statement long since worn out. It was not needed with the Mother, she wasn't pointing her finger at me.
"What happened was... horrible." I managed to say.
Her gaze refocused and came up to me. "Fear makes us desperate, but hopefully not beyond reason." Her eyes flickered over my face and I could feel another blush come up to my eyeballs. I was by no means a pretty vase of flowers. Her expression furrowed to one of contemplation. "Go to them," she murmured to me, "Show them you are not a demon to be feared."
"If they took a look at me, they'd see the opposite." I replied lamely.
There was a sadness to her. "They only know the frightful tales of you that pour out from the chaos. Talk to them, convince them. Have them believe something better of you." How, I asked her desperately, my face contorted with displeasure. This wasn't what I had signed up for, none of this. I couldn't make grand speeches or sway people with popularity. My charisma score was at a negative.
"I feel like that will make it worse," I had to be honest. I drew my gaze back up to her, pleading. "Look at me. I'm about as convincing as a wet rag in the rain." She blinked at my analogy and folded her hands in front of her, pondering my existence. She tilted her head and adjusted on her feet, giving herself a moment to dissect me, no doubt.
"Let me put it this way." She finally answered. "You needn't convince them all, but you need some of them to doubt."
I hesitated, surprised at the revelation. A debate isn't about proving the other party wrong, Ms. Wyatt, my college professor prattled from a memory, a debate is presenting your side of the argument in a way that will make them doubt their own. A frown settled deeply on my face, enough to drag my gaze to the ground as I wondered at the idea. I am not a demon. I am not a mage. I am no one. Orphaned. Helpless. Help me. My eyes blinked hard and I tossed by head back up to see a faint smile on Mother Giselle's lips.
"Their power comes from their unified voice." She added gently. "Make some of them question and it will give you the time you need."
I bowed my head to her, amazed. "I - thank you. For doing this. I would not have thought of it otherwise."
"I honestly do not know if you've been touched by fate or sent to help, but... I hope." She offered me a warm smile, tired and soothing. "Hope is the best thing that we have. The people will listen and come to your rallying call like they will to no other." She paused and contemplated her next words with care, "You will either build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us... or destroy us."
My poor heart stuttered in my chest. These people will need someone to guide them, the day was not complete unless I got a lesson from Solas, Cassandra or Cullen could easily lead them, but they would not have the full faith or devotion that your mark inspires. You are, for all intents and purposes, their Herald, even if you do not believe. I sighed as a weight drifted and settled onto my shoulders. I couldn't do this, no, but I had to do this. I was not the best one for the job, but it seemed I would be the most willing.
Oh, how fucking fitting that was.
- 0 -
Soon after my conversation with Mother Giselle, I found Cassandra and Solas standing just at the mouth of a path that lead up toward a hill and split of against further toward the rocky mountain that surrounded the crossroads settlement. I trudged up to companions and noted quickly that Cassandra looked far from pleased.
"What happened now?" I asked wearily. Varric and Solas shot their gazes to the Seeker between them, awaiting her explanation just as much as I. Cassandra fidgeted slightly under the three gazes combined and expanded her chest, her shield clinking behind her.
"These people need help." She hunched her shoulders. "Corporal Vale seems to have the best knowledge of what needs to be accomplished, but... I thought it best to wait for you." I sputtered a bit, but it made sense. If I was going to lead this Inquisition, I couldn't have others going around and making appearances for me. The mark, if not my face, were important pieces to this game. I swallowed and nodded.
"Onwards, then." I gestured uselessly with a limp hand. Cassandra nodded and pointed to the high point of the hill behind them, there sat a tent and a soldier in full armor overlooking the crowded field. His brow was heavy under his helmet and looked at us with something akin to dislike. Perhaps our rag-tag group looked like beggars rather than assistance.
I straightened my back as I climbed the last of the slope. "Corporal Vale?"
"Aye, that's me." He answered gustily. "If you're looking for supplies, I'm sorry to say I don't have any to spare." A flash of irritation gripped my ribs, but I understood his immediate response. He had to care for hundreds of people and a few strangers that wandered in from the hills that he didn't know weren't going to get an ounce of help from him.
"Oh, no, we're fine." My sparkly hand rose and his expression dropped like a sack of bricks. "I was wondering if there was anything I could do to help you, though?" Kill them with kindness, as my mother used to say. Aggression usually didn't get us anywhere, but that wasn't normally my specialty. I inhaled as the corporal bowed his head to me and saluted across his chest, relief washed over his tired face.
"Yes, Lady Herald, we would appreciate that assistance." He stood from his hasty bow as I shot Cassandra a look of is this how it goes?
"What needs to be done here, Corporal?" I prompted him, his relief came into nervousness rather quickly. I wasn't sure if it was due to my mark or the companions that now stood beside me. He looked out over the hill, the trees obscuring some of his vision of the settlement. Templars and soldiers and refugees dodged over the road and through the fields under our gaze.
"A couple of things, Herald." He sounded less eager to list them for me. He sighed, "The people here are going hungry. Our storages are soon to run out, but we have a hunter nearby that might have a plan on solving that."
I nodded my head with another glance at Cassandra, who returned the gesture. "Noted. And?"
Another hesitation, but he answered. "We're also low on healing supplies, medical herbs, and necessities for the weak. There's rumor that some of the mages had caches in the Hinterlands or further out by where Dennett may be. There's a recruit by the name of Whittle over yonder who could tell you more."
"Understood." I desperately tried to memorize this information and hoped that my companions would make a list for me. Something crossed the corporal's face and I tilted my head, waiting. When nothing come, I huffed; "... and the last thing, Corporal?"
He grimaced and I knew now that asking for help was paining him. "The refugees here at the crossroads could benefit greatly from a healer. There's one, up by Redcliff, but situation being what it is, she may not come to help us."
My nod was short. "Alright. Hunter, Whittle, healer. We'll see about contacting them and setting up what we can, when we can. Agreed?"
"Agreed." The corporal had too much starch in his shoulders to slump, but I saw it anyway. "Thank you, Herald." There was a moment of hesitation for me. The man looked run down to his boots, his face pulled with exhaustion but his mouth was hard and his chin stern. I was no bard or a snake charmer; that was obvious. I could, though, give him what little hope I had to spare.
"We'll make it, Corporal." My voice softened; empathetic to his plight. "The Inquisition won't let you fall." It was like magic, or at the very least, the magic that I had known back in my world. Movie magic in it's likeness; the Corporal's shoulders rose and his neck strengthened with his back, his eyes aglow with something I couldn't place.
He smirked with a firm, assured nod. "Aye. Thank you, Inquisition."
When I turned to walk down the hill in search of my new quests, I could see Cassandra stand taller behind me. Perhaps this hope thing worked on more than just those I offered it to. My lungs drew in a deep inhale and I made my way down the path toward Whittle first, as he was the easiest to find with a name. Soon after, I trotted back across the settlement to a few huts and found the hunter with his idea of hunting ram. The healer would have to wait, she was a bit too far from our comfort zone (read: my comfort zone) and we still had pressing matters elsewhere.
"There is much to do here." Cassandra murmured to me as we marched back toward the camp set up outside of the settlement. I pursed my lips, thoughtful. She wasn't wrong. Too many hands were grasping for purchase, for help, and there weren't enough people to pull them up from the abyss. I shook my head with a shrug of my shoulders at Cassandra. Varric and Solas perked up behind us.
"There isn't much we can do yet." I started diplomatically, poorly channeling our Lady Ambassador. "The Inquisition as it stands right now is too small to be everywhere at once. We need to plan this so that we help in the most efficient way with the power we have."
"That will leave some to suffer." Solas' remark of the Devil's Advocate appeared behind me. "That could look poorly on the Inquisition."
"I can't do all of it." I answered sharply. He remained at peace, expression neutral with a high brow. "If I try to give a little bit out to everyone, then they'll all starve together. If I give what we have in bundles to those who can contribute, then only some of them will starve. It's bad ethics, but good math."
Varric's nose pinched. "Not sure the people are going to see it that way, sweetheart."
"Look, I know, okay?" I inhaled deeply, my voice tight. "We need to recruit aggressively, but people aren't going to join an organization that isn't going to help them or is stretched too thin." My hand came up and passed over my forehead with a rough swipe of my palm. "Cassandra."
"Yes?" She had been quiet through most of the discussion and it bothered me. She looked to me now with a sharp sideways glance and furrowed mouth. I couldn't tell if she agreed with me or not, her face was always perpetually scowling.
"We'll have the Inquisition set up a few more camps, have them start assisting the Templars and bring in whatever mages can be found that are willing." I sighed deeply, thinking with a headache forming behind my eyes. I pinched the bridge of my nose and pushed my fingertips into the inward dips of my eyes. "We don't have the man power right now to spare for hunting, but we'll have traps set up. Whatever supplies we can spare, send them to Whittle and have him distribute as he sees fair."
Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. "Of course, Herald. I'll have word sent to Scout Harding and our requisitions officers. They will handle it from there."
"Good." With an exhale, I looked over my shoulders to the men following me. "Acceptable?"
"It's a start." Varric said agreeably. Solas followed with a nod of his head.
My eyes closed as I shook my head. "You guys are going to drive me fucking nutters."
But it's a start.
