ACT III: In This, I Promise


The map Cullen had on the table for the Western Approach was a rat's nest of chaos. Multiple camps had been set up during the time I was out of commission, with Dorian, Bull, and a combination of Chargers and Inquisition soldiers shifting through the sands for any remaining hostilities in the area. As I wasn't dying, Solas and Varric had left Adamant in search of any remnants of tattered patches of Fade that needed fixing or soothing before we returned home to Skyhold.

I sat on a stool with my chin in an upturned hand, glancing over the map held down by Cullen's customary griffin pieces. Harding and Cullen stood off a slide further to my right. They poured over missives received from Leliana and Josephine on the state of Orlais and Fereldan in the wake of Hawke's departure with a Warden force. My fingers pinched and rubbed into the tear duct corners of my eyes. Cullen and Harding had been quiet since my arrival, and I couldn't rightly blame them. I had abandoned the original plans of the siege with my shenanigans and they were left to clean up my messes.

"How many forces are we leaving here, again?" I asked at their turned backs. Cullen turned to look at me first, with Harding making a full heel-turn to face me. Within two struts, she was at my right side and Cullen stood at the opposite side of the table the map occupied.

"A count of two-hundred hundred heads, Inquisitor." Cullen answered, his hands behind his back, his eyes glued to the map.

"I'll have rotations set up by the end of day or next day, Inquisitor." Harding interjected. "Once I know the supply count, we'll start patrols to make sure the Venatori don't gain another hold this far out."

"We've lost our lead on Corypheus' whereabouts after the siege," Cullen sighed softly, his hand on his forehead. "But with the Venatori mage Erimond in our custody, we may find a new one."

Harding snorted. "Good luck getting the snake to talk, he's been nothing but a pain right up the ass since we've locked him up here."

"That reminds me…" Cullen reached over and picked up a letter under a pile, handing it over to me. "Leliana's sent word: we've found Gregory Dedrick."

"That bastard," I exhaled with embers of a rage under my tongue. "I was wondering when he was going to show up again."

"Yes, and Leliana would like us to return to Skyhold as soon as possible to hold court, as well as passing judgment on Erimond's crimes against the Wardens."

"Good god." I ran my fingers up into my hairline and brushed them over my head and down my braid.

"There is also another." Cullen continued, finally bringing his gaze up to mine. "A Warden, Ser Ruth. She submitted herself to Inquisition custody after the siege and requested judgement be passed on her crime."

My brow shot over my eyes. "The fuck you mean? Every Warden here would have to go through that if we started judging them individually."

"Wardens are not held to any laws that bring them to prosecution when the matter is against the darkspawn or the Blights, such as killing a civilian who has been tainted," Cullen started, his brow pinched over his nose and the corners of his mouth dipped into a frown, "Ser Ruth came to us as she had… murdered, her words, one of her order under the command of Clarel."

"Like a cold-blooded, 'yes-master' kinda thing?" I clarified, mouth dry. This would open a floodgate of trouble if I stepped up to prosecute a Warden in the name of justice. They were most definitely a gray area of trouble, not beholden to the laws of any nation or sovereignty, and they had no legal place of residence aside from Weisshaupt, which was technically under no country's territorial lines.

"To her words, yes. She had killed a brother-in-arms under the orders of Commander Clarel for their interference in attempting to stop the ritual." Cullen nodded, a tick of sorrow snatched the corner of his right eye and mouth. He rolled his lips over his teeth for a moment and then sighed again. "It's… complicated, Inquisitor."

"No fucking shit, my dude." I muttered. I leaned back in my stool, smacking my hands down on the table and map and exhaling to the full expanse of my lungs. "Alright. Battle plan. Drop the two hundred here, leave them enough supplies to last them a couple of weeks. We'll set up runners between them and Orlais."

"I'll get Lady Josephine started on it." Harding nodded, taking an old missive and scratching her notes on the blank, backside of the parchment.

"Leave the siege equipment here for now, we'll come back for it later. I need us packed up and home within the month." I directed to Cullen. His back straightened as he focused on me. "If possible and safe, have Erimond and Ser Ruth sent ahead to await judgement at Skyhold."

"Understood." Cullen nodded. With a glance at Harding, the she-dwarf saluated and trotted off with her orders to set our return trip home in motion. After she was out of earshot, I focused back on Cullen.

"Spit it out." I prodded softly. Cullen's lips pursed against his teeth and his shoulders tightened under his armor as he hesitated. I narrowed my eyes at him, "No, don't do that. I can see it in the back of your eyes, Cullen. Spit it out."

"You should be resting," Cullen rushed out between his teeth. There was no heated anger or aggression in his voice, but a swallow of sorrow bubbled in his throat. He moved around the left side of the table and I twisted on my stool to face him; I left a hand on the table to steady myself as my heartbeat rose behind my teeth.

"Cullen, I…" A pause chomped on my words. Vivienne had told me not to apologize. An exhale buffered in my throat. "I know I worried you that night, when I came back. Cullen, trust me, you did what you could and it was everything I needed."

"Don't," he snapped softly, standing stiffly before me. His gaze blazed over my face and his mouth settled into a half-snarl that didn't reach his eyes. Is he forcing the anger? He growled, "Don't you dare placate me. I… we… I don't even know where to begin."

"I've given everyone else a hug." I teased gently with a weak smile. "Would you like one as well? Helps prove I'm real."

"I'm not a child, Inquisitor." Cullen's words nipped angrily, a small ember of pain crinkled around his eyes and brow.

"No," I amended softly, shifting forward on my stool, "but I would like to think we've been through enough shit together that we're at least friends, Cullen. Hell, you've been the best big brother I've had since losing mine." He crumbled at my words, a shudder of an inhale wiggled through his neck and into his chest before he forced it out in a hasty exhale.

"You break my heart saying that, Jaime." Cullen muttered, but he moved forward and hugged my head to his torso. We were both careful of his armor. His arms wrapped around my skull and shoulders with a single pat at the top of my head. I resisted a laugh and leaned into his frame; I wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed.

"What am I going to do with you?" Cullen sighed, returning the squeeze before releasing me and taking a step back. His hip leaned against the table and he crossed his arms. "I heard Cassandra had tanned your hide for your recklessness. I had half a mind to do the same."

"Please, no, I need at least one breather between traumatic experiences." A faltering chuckle escaped me. "She wasn't happy, that's for sure. I know why, it's the same speech that Blackwall gives me every other day."

Cullen chuckled, "Ah, yes. He's been… quiet, since your return. That's not to say the rest of them haven't been, as Bull and Dorian haven't said more than a handful of words to anyone." I had figured as much. Krem had made me aware that said men had walked out into the wastes in search of a fight.

"It was… rough, in the Fade. I don't…" I hesitated. If I admitted that I didn't expect them to be on the mend when we got back to Skyhold, I would be lying to myself and my Commander, as well as taking a bite from their own reputations.

"I agree, I don't believe they'll tell us if something is wrong." Cullen chuckled weakly. He pushed off the table and glanced over my shoulder. At my turn, a scout appeared just a step behind me and I shifted on my stool to focus my attention on them with a nod.

"The Iron Bull and Dorian Pavus have returned, Your Worship." The scout saluted with a fist across their chest. "I was sent ahead by Lady Cassandra to alert the Commander."

Cullen raised an eyebrow, his arms dropping by his sides. "They found Venatori?"

"Yes, Ser." The scout nodded, and then hesitated with worry in their eyes. "They have been… it did not end well for the Venatori."

"Ah, fuck me." I groaned, standing into a jog as Cullen and I shot toward the front gates of Adamant.

The scout hadn't lied when they said the Venatori hadn't had a good time. Dorian and Bull had returned fully dusty from head to toe, their boots smothered with mud and (possibly) blood. Dorian's grim expression lifted once he spotted me, his mouth smoothing into a winning smirk as he moved forward to cup my cheeks in his palms and kiss me smartly on the forehead.

Bull, on the other hand, trudged past me with a single look of his eye. A cold tingle trickled down into my stomach and the weight of my head dropped into Dorian's hands. Cullen glanced between us and Bull's retreating back. With a grimace, he nodded to me and left to follow Bull. A deep sigh tumbled through Dorian and he leaned forward to draw me into a hug.

"He's not quite ready, my love." Dorian murmured against my ear. "There is an anger in him that he's smothering. I suspect the Qunari train for dealing with demons, but not in their territory."

"I thought as much. He's been stuck up inside his brain since we saw that gravestone." I muttered into Dorian's chest, drawing comfort from the man. The dust wafted up into my nose, but the distraction of his beating heart was enough to soothe my rattled nerves.

"No one likes being confronted with their mortality, of that I am certain." Dorian drew away and clasped me about the arms. "Give him a few more days. We may just need to leave Adamant before he speaks of it, bad memories and all."

"Oh, for sure." I sighed and rubbed my palms along the sides of my face. "So how did it go out there? Are they just as prickly as they are everywhere else?"

"Less so, thankfully. Sera will have the full report to Vivienne, and Bull to Cullen, if the man can get the beast to talk." Dorian tilted his head in agreement, a corner of his mouth lifting in amusement.

"Okay. It sounds like we'll be leaving in a day or two." I informed him, my hands dropped to my sides. "I think one of the missives from Leliana said we managed to get an invitation to the gala the Empress is hosting."

"Ah, wonderful!" Dorian enthused, his spirits lifting. "Lady Montilyet must be very excited about that."

I gave a weak laugh, "I suppose. I would be, too, if we hadn't just…" I gestured uselessly to Adamant around me.

"Yes, well." Dorian spared the sandy remains with a raised eyebrow. "I think we all just need a change of scenery." I offered the man a shrug, unsure of what else to say. My inner circle of confidants were in shambles after my reckless shenanigans and I found myself tethered to a loose tightrope to keep the peace.

From there, Dorian and I had made it back to the tent that kept me safe during my recovery. Much of the temporary housing was already being broken down with Harding's push to leave Adamant as soon as possible to meet Leliana's requested deadline. Dorian kissed my cheek and left me to my own packing.

This is going to be a neverending nightmare of a shitshow, isn't it?

I had no hope that it would get better back in Skyhold.

-0-

It took us two and a half weeks to get back to Skyhold from Adamant Fortress. The two hundred heads we had left behind were an equal number of Wardens and Inquisition soldiers, to hold the line while I attended to the Empress and her possible assassination. After a slew of rules had been issued; avoid the dragon and the crazy dragon-researcher, as well as avoiding the secondary fortress surrounded by poison fog, my miniature army had wearily made their way back home.

It wasn't as chaotic as I had feared it would be. Ser Ruth and Lord Livius Erimond had arrived ahead of my company without incident and were imprisoned in the holding cells that the Chargers had previously resided in while Skyhold had been patched up. There was, to my surprise, a collection of nobles and dignitaries that also awaited our arrival and had filled the courtyard from the entrance of Skyhold, to the tavern, and all the way to the stables on the other ass end of our home.

Swiftly, I had been snagged by a few of Leliana's birds and they had slipped me through the crowd to the steps that led up to Leliana's tower. Grateful for the escape, I shuffled up the steps in the shadows and nearly tumbled through the door as the scouts punted me through it.

"Welcome home, Inquisitor." Leliana greeted me, a neutral smile on her face and hands behind her back.

"Yeah, good to be home." I replied absently. "Hey, Leliana… who…?"

"The audience?" She clarified, walking toward one of the windows that looked out over the courtyard. "As we had previously discussed, King Alistair had given his written permission that we may prosecute former mayor of Crestwood, Gregory Dedrick, on the grounds that we had initiated the investigation when first liberating Crestwood."

"Okay…" I answered lamely, still not following. There hadn't been this many in attendance when we had liberated Therinfal, or taken in the Templars. I rolled my wrist and twirled my hand in the air, asking her to continue.

"That's one part of the flock. The second part is that many of them had heard of our invitation to the gala and sought a private audience with you, perhaps either to earn gossip, be gossip, or spread gossip. Everyone is vying to be in your good graces, it would seem."

"Right." I reluctantly glanced out the window with her, noting the numerous masked faces that spotted the area. "Goddamn, I hate politicking."

"Don't we all." Leliana deadpanned. "In any such case, I was able to persuade them to await your appearance and proceedings until the day after tomorrow."

"Only the day after tomorrow?" I joked quietly, the tip of my nose fogging the glass with my breath around it. Leliana shrugged next to me and stepped away from the windowpane and back into the shadows of her bird cages and flickering candles.

"I received Hawke's missive and his report that he would be leading a majority of the Wardens to Weisshaupt." She prompted. I paused, a coil of stress immediately wrapped around my shoulders. Many of my private company had been upset that I had allowed the Wardens to go free, much like I had the Templars. Leliana had been one of the dissenters for the latter.

"So, hold on, hear me out." I started as I turned toward her, hand raised to placate. "It… I had just stumbled out of the Fade, Leliana. I saw some shit that, honestly, were I a betting soul, would have folded outta the game."

She raised her brow, curious and silent.

"I saw what happened to the Warden mages when Erimond had gotten them to complete his test run of the ritual, and I saw what would happen to them if left to their own devices with no repercussions." I continued, walking up to stand beside her near the rail.

"And so we set the Grey Wardens to fight demons and red Templars while staying clear of the Venatori?" She posed the question lightly. I knew my spymaster, and she knew me better than I thought I knew myself. I peered at her shrewdly with a stinky side glance and pondered the insinuation.

"There's a phrase where I come from," I started quietly, mindful of the ears that could hear below us, "keep your friends close and your enemies closer. They will be easier to handle if I still have them within striking distance."

"Easier to suppress," Leliana nodded. "I agree. Sending them into exile would have meant we would no longer be in touch, nor have any way to keep watch should another, more successful attempt was made on their lives." I deflated, relieved that I wouldn't have to justify myself wholeheartedly against Leliana's keen mind. I already had a lot on my plate and adding her criticisms was one blow too much to my fragile psyche.

"Jesus, woman." I grumped, leaning on the railing and puddling my face in my hands. "You really do know how to shave years off my life."

"You do that yourself, Inquisitor." Leliana quipped, helpful and amused. "I was not the one to throw you into the Fade."

"I'm never living that down. Historical moment in religious circles, and I'm the dumbass protagonist." I griped. With a deep sigh, I stood upright again and faced her. "So, what now?"

"You dealt Corypheus a significant blow, Inquisitor. You took an army from him, but that will matter little if Orlais falls into chaos." Leliana pondered for a moment, her mouth paused on a word as she glanced over my face. Something was decided behind her eyes and she continued, "All arrangements have been made for the ball in Halamshiral. The ball is in a fortnight."

"All of it? Dress, uniforms, people?" I inquired. Would they put me in a dress? Or a suit?

Leliana nodded, "Yes. Your full regalia has been commissioned and will require a few tailored touches, but it is available. Josephine will most likely come for you tomorrow to get everything fitted."

"Cool beans, I'll… catch up with her when I can. After the judgements, probably." I tossed a wary glance back to Leliana. "Which, I am assuming, are happening the day after tomorrow?"

"Correct. We will keep the nobility waiting. They came here demanding your presence and forgot that you are the master here, not them." Leliana's smile turned smooth and sweet. "I am happy to remind them."

"Savage." I tutted. "Alright. I will weasel my way back to my room and die, if you don't mind."

Leliana snorted softly. "I'll begin the funeral proceedings in haste, then."

"I knew I liked you best." I teased with a chuckle. "If you don't mind, could you also send me some information on Empress Celene and her cousin the duke? I don't want this to be a repeat of Vivienne's salon and I walked in airheaded."

"I shall see to that as well, Inquisitor." Leliana agreed. "Cullen, Josephine and I will discuss the best way to gain an audience with the Empress. My hope is that these next judgments will be considered enough clout for the idea to be entertained."

"Right," I choked on a sour laugh, "Let's cross our fingers I don't muck it up with the wrong decision."

"I have the utmost faith in you, Jaime." Leliana murmured. In the last moment, a pregnant pause weighed on us and I tilted my head in question. A slow dawning crept through my mind, ah. She hadn't asked about the Fade yet, or what I had seen.

"I read your report," she started softly, her gaze cast over the railing and down the length of the tower's height. "I know it wasn't clear, but… Divine Justinia, or her soul, or the spirit that took her form… what was she like?" A heat swelled in my chest, heartbreak and fear mingled through my ribs. Absently, I was relieved she wasn't asking about me, or what had happened to me specifically, but touching on the subject of her old mentor, a woman she had lived for and loved, was just as bad.

Hesitation gripped me.

What on earth could I say?

"If… if that spirit was even a fraction of what she was really like, there's no doubt in my mind why you and Cassandra loved her so much." I answered softly, recalling the sincerity and the no-nonsense determination tempered with a tired patience. "I couldn't… give you an accurate report because I didn't know her… I couldn't rightly say whether it was her or not."

"Yes, I know." Leliana cut me off gently, taking a deep breath and straightening back into the heels of her feet.

"She did ask me to tell you something, though, that wasn't in the report." I continued, dipping my head slightly to level her gaze with mine. As she brought her gaze back to me, I finished: "She said, 'I'm sorry. I failed you, too.'"

In a small wrinkle of time, Leliana's eyes softened and her brow crumbled over them with a sweep of sorrow that took her by surprise. The moment was gone swiftly and the breaks in her heart were safely tucked back into the corners of her eyes.

"I should finish sorting through these reports before they slip my mind," Leliana dismissed it quietly, turning her back to me. "Perhaps later… we might discuss the matter further."

Respectfully, I bowed my head and took my leave down the tower stairs and left her to her contemplations.

-0-

The following two days were as restful as I could make them, all things considered. Josephine and Leliana had coordinated with the Chargers to keep the nobility in line and out of the way of the soldiers and our supplies that were trickling back into Skyhold. Majority of the horde had been sectioned off to the open field behind Skyhold and told to camp, and Cullen had taken an unholy glee at reminding the nobles that Skyhold proper was for the Inquisition, and under no sway or jurisdiction of any sovereign nation.

So no, you couldn't complain to King Alistair or Empress Celene for proper accommodations.

Blackwall had been relegated to manning the stables with the horse master and was on his toes most of the time trying to make sure no one was trampled and no stampede was let loose. Dorian threw himself into the throng of people and kept a listening ear out with Varric and Solas on the pulse of the public while the hours counted down to the judgments. Sera had made herself scarce, as did Cole. Vivienne kept an eye on the more public figures, like well-known mages and court officials.

Cassandra and The Iron Bull had disappeared, as far as anyone knew. It was Krem that had come to report on the status of the Chargers, but when questioned about his commander, the lieutenant couldn't offer any more insight than Dorian had weeks prior. Eventually, I would have to track them both down, as Varric had a book he needed to give her and Bull had to talk to me at some point.

For now, I found myself once again in Josephine's receiving room, dressed to the throat in a black and silver piece that edged along my shoulders and arms like a dagger, a similar variation of my previous uniform coat and pants that I had worn to the first one. My hair was cut shorter and tidied up into a braid that circled the back of my head at the base of my skull. I was cleaned up, prim and proper.

"We shall be hearing Gregory Dedrick's plea first." Josephine brought the kohl gently around my eyes and lined them with a careful and practiced hand. Her nose was pinched over her mouth in concentration and I forced myself to swallow back the nervous laugh that threatened to escape my throat.

"I take it because he isn't as high profile?" I asked, knowing the answer. These judgments had, unfortunately, taken a turn into reality-show-esque entertainment rather than informing the public. The nobility had stuffed themselves to every inch of a pew they could find and more lined the walls as they waited. The doors had been kept open to allow air circulation and help with my sudden claustrophobia when I peeked outside.

"You would be correct." Josephine left my eyes with a satisfied nod and then moved on to powder the dark circles under my eyes. "Goodness, you are far more tan than I had guessed, this may not work."

"I trust you, Josie." I encouraged her, standing as perfectly still as I could under her long fingers. The makeup hadn't been necessary the first time because I hadn't been under pressure to impress the nobility that would be gossiping at the Empress' ball in twelve days' time.

She smiled, "I take that trust to heart. But yes, Dedrick will be first, followed by Warden Ruth, and finally…"

"The Venatori mage." I finished on an exhale. "And we're sure Tevinter hasn't given us any grief about that?"

"They are silent on the matter." Josephine shook her head, her nail scraping just under my eye to clear away some wayward kohl. "As House Erimond isn't in the Magistrate, nor of a high status, they consider his… activities to be the product of personal endeavors and experimentation. No concern of theirs, and as such, our problem."

"And we're not gonna have his family breathing down our necks if he's punished?" I clarified. The last thing I wanted was a war to break out on our borders with Tevinter. Sending Morvan the Under with weapons had been a small, petty, and an inconsequential incident to Tevinter. A mote of dust to the stars, as it were.

"I believe his family have disowned him for his recklessness. If the returned missive is anything to go by." She finished darkly. Once my face was powdered evenly, my eyes lined minimally and my scarred face on display, she stepped away and nodded affirmative.

Go time.

Josephine gripped my elbow one final time before she left the room to announce my presence and the start of the judgments. The heat of my blood and the dull, deepening throb of my heartbeats swarmed just under my jowls and warmed my ears. I closed my eyes and counted the seconds of each inhale and exhale.

I could do this.

No different than last time.

It's extremely different than last time.

Nothing for it, now.

With a heavy swallow, I turned on my heel and listened as my hard heeled boots clipped the stone floor under me. Faintly, Josephine's voice wafted through the two doors as I exited and I was suddenly standing before a massive, heaving crowd of finery and jewels. The hall was sweltering, the open entrance door did little to appease my mouse-brain as I made my way to the throne that sat before all of them. I counted each stone as I walked past it, my gaze rose up around me again only once I was halfway into the seat.

My heart stuttered in my chest.

Just like before, Bull and Krem stood on my right side of the hall, hidden from the crowd by the long, languid drapery that flowed with the breeze. Krem saluted me, quick, quiet, and clean as my gaze found them. For a moment, I thought of passing over Bull so I wouldn't be swallowed by the tremor of my heart, but his smirk caught my attention before I could. Gently, he tilted his head, and I could hear it in the silence of my thoughts.

Kadan.

Now more than ever I was desperate to know what that word meant.

I straightened in my seat. Cullen was on my left hand side, closer to the stairs than my throne, a defender and guardian in case of a riot or attack. Behind him, closer to the smithy entrance, was Blackwall, just the same. Bolstered, I quietly clenched my molars and nodded to Josephine to begin.

Josephine returned my nod and swiveled on her heel to address the crowd.

"Mayor Gregory Dedrick of Crestwood is present for betraying his own constituents." Her voice rose to the rafters and filled the hall with her authority. Dedrick was slowly marched up to the front of the hall by two Inquisition soldiers. The mayor was far worse for wear, as his clothes were old and wrinkled, but clean from what I could see. His eyes were sunken into his cheeks, but his skin wasn't pale or yellowing.

Good. Hopefully he hasn't been mistreated, just ignored.

"He confesses that ten years ago, he flooded Old Crestwood to kill refugees and villagers touched by the Blight." Josephine paused for the gasps of shock and outrage that peppered the hall. "The mayor claims it was to spare the rest of Crestwood, but we only have his word."

I swallowed, chin up. "If the Mayor would like to say anything in his defense, I open the floor to him. Speak now, Ser Dedrick."

"There's no cure for the Blight," Dedrick began, his voice high in his throat and his head rising from his shoulders to look up at me. He hesitated, a tremor ran down his back and through his chest. The Inquisition soldiers tightened their grip as if he would run. "I couldn't rightly convince anyone to leave a sick child or husband behind, could I?"

Josephine frowned, stepping forward. "So you herded the infected into one place and flooded Old Crestwood? Were no innocents caught in the waters?"

"Nearly everyone in the village had the Blight, I swear it!" Dedrick growled through clenched teeth, leaning forward against the hold of the soldiers. "Have mercy! I couldn't tell the survivors I'd drowned their own families to save them! I—I couldn't."

In the massive throne, I sat with one hand on an armrest, the other in my lap as I contemplated the former mayor before me. From what I had studied with Leliana and Josephine, the Blight was as bad as some of the plagues back on Earth. Vicious, swift, and nearly unavoidable once someone was infected. Did that allow for mass murder, though?

"Mayor Dedrick," I begin, counting my words as I chose them. "What are the symptoms of the Blight?"

"Inquisitor?" Dedrick returned the question, his face frowned in confusion.

"You stated that nearly—and I stress this—nearly everyone had the Blight. How did you know? Explain it to me." I asked again, drawing out my words to make sure they weren't lost to the mumblings and rolling gossip that filled the pews behind him.

"I… I… The Blight is a plague, Inquisitor. It corrupts all that it touches and turns it into those vile darkspawn." Dedrick answered warily, his gaze glancing between myself and behind me. Ah, Blackwall. I shifted in my seat to bring his attention back to me.

"Yes, that's common knowledge, but that only happens after infection, or corruption. Which means that you already had a horde of darkspawn upon you?" I clarified with a small tip of my chin. The crowd had gone silent in the hall, their attention riveted to the discussion between us.

Dedrick hesitated, then shook his head. "N-no, Inquisitor. They… they were not yet darkspawn."

"So then allow me to rephrase the question, Mayor." I sat upright on my throne, both hands in my lap as I focused on him. "How, or why, did you decide that a whole village was infected by darkspawn? What was your criteria? Boils? Sores? Rashes?"

"No, Inquisitor." Dedrick shook where he stood, his gaze cast to the tips of his toes. "There had… there had been raids of darkspawn in the lower parts of the village. I believe you've seen them in your explorations, between the hill into the village and its separation to the… to my old home and the caves?"

I nodded, quiet so he would continue.

"We… I saw the darkspawn coming down from the hillside where New Crestwood is founded. What patrols or guards we had were little, and those… beasts, chipped away at our defenses like termites to a house." Dedrick shuddered again, but his gaze rose and he faced me, stared into my eyes even as his lips trembled over his words.

"What happened to your people, Dedrick?" I asked encouragingly. "We found evidence that you had requested the old groundskeeper and bridge-master to repair the turnstile for the floodgates. Why?"

"My people were cornered, Inquisitor." Dedrick replied, his voice steadying as he took a breath. "I… had entrusted Robert, our wheelwright, to fix the dam so that… I may flood the village in case we were overrun. He… he disagreed with my decision."

"Rightly so, I would imagine." Cullen muttered darkly. Dedrick turned his attention to the Commander and seemed to resist the urge to snarl at him.

"He wanted us to leave the village. Where would we go with a hundred strong? Of women and children? With what food? What supplies?" Dedrick demanded hotly. "And even if we had abandoned our homes, there was no guarantee we would survive or even escape the Blight that followed us! At least we could lock our doors when the raids came."

"Dedrick," I leaned forward to bring his focus back onto me. "We had also found bodies in the cave system in Old Crestwood. Can you explain that to me?"

Dedrick sighed, eyes shut in pain. "I… I had told my people that a large raid was coming. We had already lost so many to those darkspawn, good men who only wanted to protect their homes. They were being cut down and I had convinced the remaining families that we would be safer in the caves…"

"Be free of it, Gregory." I gently prodded him when he fell silent. "Don't let this weigh you down any longer."

"They went into the caves," his voice cracked, his face losing its color as he drew the memories to the surface, "and I left for the dam… I did not believe we would survive the onslaught. Once they were in the caves, and the darkspawn brought through our patrol… I released the river into Old Crestwood."

The gasps and shocked chokes of the crowd echoed through the hall and up into the ceiling, crashing over us like an indignant tidal wave of repulsion and animosity. Some rose from the seats in the pews as if to charge the throne, stopped only by the press of the Templars and Inquisition soldiers that stood along the edge of each row.

Not that I could hear them. A silence had fallen between Gregory and I as our gazes held together.

"Why did you lie about it, Gregory?" I asked softly, pressing the rest of the information from him as carefully as I could.

"Because I feared for my life, Inquisitor, there's no excuse!" Dedrick rushed his words. "When I realized that not everyone had—had run into the caves, that some of them had taken refuge in Caer Bronach, I… I couldn't face them. I told them that the darkspawn had taken the bridge and flooded the village."

"So you lied to save your life and reputation?" Cullen demanded with a step toward Dedrick, startling the former mayor from his memory. "And the lives of your villagers were not as valuable, as worthy of a chance as yours?"

"I hadn't planned on surviving long after them!" Dedrick cried in grief. "I knew at my age… I wouldn't survive another raid, I couldn't fight my way out. And with no one to rebuild with, I hadn't…" He trailed off, broken and shuddering in his clothes as if the mists and fog of Old Crestwood had followed him to Skyhold.

With an exhale, I leaned back into the throne and considered the broken man before me. Murder-suicide on a massive scale. God Almighty. I resisted the urge to run my hand down my face, not wanting to smear the makeup or look as flustered as I felt at the gravity of the situation laid at my feet.

I turned to Cullen. "Your opinion, Commander?"

"Give him a clean death." Cullen immediately replied, his eyes dark and infuriated. "It's less than he deserves, but justice must be served."

I turned, then, to Josephine, my eyebrows prompting the same question.

"We may have the option of turning him over to the Grey Wardens." Josephine commented quietly, though her voice still carried into the hall. "The Blight was his undoing. He would either die to their ritual in becoming one, or die fighting that which he feared."

"Please, no." Dedrick quietly lamented, his shoulders slumping. The corner of my mouth ticked, he won't survive any of that. A clean death seems… justified, but wouldn't that just mean he escaped his crimes, just as surely as he ran away? I glanced at the crowd behind him, the bodies shifting and shuffling in their seats as their whispers grew with each moment.

"I've decided." I addressed Dedrick directly, my gaze only on his face. "These people deserved better from you, Gregory Dedrick. They entrusted you with their wellbeing and their safety, and you abused and betrayed that trust for what you deemed the best option to spare them the most pain."

"I did, Inquisitor, I tried." Dedrick pleaded.

I raised my hand to silence him and continued, "But I know what I saw when the waters receded. I know what I saw in those caves, Dedrick. Piles of bodies that had tried to escape when they realized what you had done… a child's body hidden in the dark with a blow to their head to spare them the suffocation."

"Please, I beg you…" Dedrick shook his head, resisting my commentary.

"Listen to me, Gregory." I commanded him, my voice firmly filling the hall. "Because you didn't give them the chance to plead for their life, I will do it for them. We all have a right to decide how we live and die. You took that choice from them, lied to them, and then they died for probability. Do you agree?"

Dedrick took a few moments, the silence and presence of the nobility in the hall an encroaching storm. Finally, the man raised his head, tears in his eyes that trickled down his face as he nodded.

"I agree, Inquisitor." He relented quietly. "I shall accept your final judgment."

I nodded. "Mayor Gregory Dedrick of Crestwood, as you are a man of Ferelden and the crime was committed on Ferelden soil, I hereby send you to serve out a life sentence of imprisonment and servitude under King Alistair's discretion. In such time that he deems your sentence rightfully served, only he shall grant you freedom or death."

"Prison?" Dedrick exhaled, shocked. "Maker… I should have drowned with them."

"That is the message, yes." I replied, and dismissed the soldiers with Dedrick in tow. The Hall was quiet as the man was led away, the collective attention drawn to his slouching shoulders that sunk low with the weight of their own judgmental opinions. Once he was out of sight and through the entrance, I returned to Josephine.

She exhaled, and moved on.

"Next, we have another of the lingering pains of the recent incident with Adamant Fortress, Your Worship." Josephine turned toward the entrance as my brow rose in surprised amusement: incident? Right. A new figure was escorted through the hall as Josephine continued, "Ser Ruth is a senior Warden of the Order. She was one of the many who slit the throat of another to bind a demon. She does not contest this."

My brow rose higher.

Josephine nodded knowingly, "Yes. In fact, she surrendered to us. She requests no mercy. She wants the public justice of the headman's axe."

And higher they rose.

My gaze swiveled over to Ser Ruth. The woman's head was bowed, chin to chest, with her hands bound in front of her instead of behind her. The guards hadn't held onto her as they did Dedrick and it was then I realized that her own brethren had brought her in, not Inquisition soldiers. Curious.

"You're very serious about this." I started neutrally. Her heated gaze drew up to meet mine and in an instance I was reminded of the intensity that set into my Qunari's eyes when the discussion was over. I swallowed and held on, "Is more death the answer, Ser Ruth?"

"There is no excuse for my actions." She answered swiftly, her voice strong and measured in the din of the hall. "I murdered another of the Order. That blood marks me more than the Blight ever could."

"Excepting their actions while thralls of Corypheus, many treaties allow Wardens any extreme, if it opposes the Blight." Josephine interjected, informing me of her knowledge and addressing Ser Ruth with an acknowledging nod.

"No!" Ser Ruth buckled toward us angrily, but stopped when the Wardens beside her flinched into action. "I can't do it! I can't use the greater good to justify my crimes, as if it would create a future I could be a part of!"

"Ser Ruth," I tried to curb her anger, but she pushed on.

"It is wrong that this broke me, I've done worse with full sanction!" She snarled, hands straining to stay at her waist, "I can do nothing, except be an example of the cost." My lips pressed tightly together, my teeth biting at the inner flesh as I considered the distraught Warden. I inhaled and closed my eyes for a second. This was going to be a minefield.

"Ser Ruth, I have a few questions for you, concerning the situation of Adamant at large. Will you answer them?" I asked patiently, hoping she wouldn't fight me on it.

"I shall, Inquisitor. What little use I may be now, I offer it in return for my fair judgement." She acquiesced, her posture rigid under the attention.

"Were you commanded to perform this murder, or did you decide the action of your own volition?" I inquired, keeping my tone light and neutral. It didn't help, as the Warden immediately narrowed her eyes at me in suspicion, catching onto my game quicker than I had hoped. She stayed silent long enough to draw Cullen's glare.

"The Inquisition has asked you a question, Ser Ruth, and you have consented to answer them." Cullen reminded her quietly.

Ser Ruth exhaled hotly, "I was commanded."

"By whom?" I prompted, poking at her minced response.

"... the late Warden-Commander, Clarel de Chanson." Ser Ruth added tightly.

"Why?" I continued to press, upright and forward in my seat.

"The Warden-Commander had… no. I do not know her mind." Ser Ruth exhaled, shaking her head. She straightened her back and addressed me fully, accepting that the line of questioning would be inescapable. "The Warden-Commander had instructed us on a ritual that would, in theory, allow us into the Deep Roads with an invincible army so that we may end the Blights permanently."

"Thank you," I acknowledged with a sharp bob of a nod. It was like pulling teeth. "When given the details of what the ritual entailed and required, both of you and your brethren, did you resist or decline to participate?"

"No," Ser Ruth admitted in relief, "no, I did not. As a Warden, our only goal is to end the Blight, by any means possible. With this promised army, we would invade the Deep Roads and destroy all of the Old Gods for good. No more Blights, no more suffering, no more Wardens."

"Of course," I replied, churning the information over in my head. How had Erimond proved to Clarel that would work? I had seen the ritual performed, the Warden battlemages turned into demons and bound to their counterparts, but it didn't make sense. I had fought demons, and even without the Mark, they dispersed just as quickly as if I were to fight a human. Something to ponder, for sure.

"Thank you for answering my questions, Ser Ruth. I have made my decision." I glanced between Josephine and Cullen, but for this one, I knew for certain what needed to be done. Ser Ruth stood taller in her place, chin raised and her gaze level, so assured of her punishment.

"Ser Ruth. I will not begin to lecture you on your duty or your oath when you become a Warden." I raised my voice to be clear, to avoid being bull-rushed by the woman, "What I do understand is that you failed in this endeavor. Your promise was to protect against the Blight and you shall do so. I judge you guilty, Ser Ruth, for the participation and knowing murder of your brethen, and you will serve your sentence as you should have served your duty: in the Deep Roads."

Ser Ruth winced, pained at my decision. "This sends no message, Your Worship."

"I understand you wished for death, Ser Ruth." I nodded to her, "but death doesn't happen to you. It happens to all those you leave behind to clean up your mess. Choose the time of your death as quickly or as delayed as you would like, Ser Ruth."

The woman bowed her head and allowed the Wardens at her sides to take her arms and lead her out of the Hall. The whispers that followed her weren't as heated or heavy as the ones that had followed Gregory Dedrick out, but they were there all the same. Internally, I took a moment to fortify myself and braced for the entrance of our final judgment.

Magister Livius Erimond.

My attention was brought back into the hall as the echoes of Erimond's protests traveled up from the entrance and into the stone walls around us. Cullen drew upright and placed his sword hand on the hilt of his weapon, prepared to strike if the man managed to wiggle from his escorts. Josephine gently stepped closer to the throne, probably betting on the chance that I would be the quickest in subduing Erimond.

The man was practically dragged to the front and center, forced onto his feet once he was before me and his back pushed so he would face me. He kept his head down and avoided gazing in my direction. Josephine snorted softly and stepped away a few inches to address the magister.

"Another of Adamant's unfortunate consequences, Your Worship." Josephine announced with a level tone. "I submit Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, who remains loyal to Corypheus."

"We found him alive," Cullen added curtly, his narrowed glare heavily scrutinizing the man, "offering extreme resistance."

"Likely because the Order will ask for his head, in more colorful terms." Josephine shot a look over to the Wardens that stood not far from the edge of the throne's raised landing. "That is to say nothing of justice you might personally require for what you suffered in the Fade."

"Let it be known!" Erimond interjected viciously, glaring at Josephine, "I recognize none of this proceeding. This sham of an organization has no authority to judge me!"

In a rare moment of ego, Josephine smirked. "On the contrary, many officials have communicated that they will defer to the Inquisitor on this matter."

Erimond scoffed, teeth flashing as he spoke. "Because they fear. Not just Corypheus, but Tevinter, rightful ruler of every piece of ground you've trod in your pathetic life. I served a living God. Bring down your blades and free me from the physical. Glory awaits me!"

I hadn't expected the rage to swarm my heart as hotly as it did at that moment. The casual disregard of the suffering he inflicted on the Wardens, the murders he sanctioned in Clarel's name, the terror he had instilled in me when I was sucked into the Fade by his master's pet. Impulsively, I stood from my throne and walked a few steps down toward him. Cullen and Blackwall jerked as they meant to follow, but stilled at my raised hand.

Once I was on his level of stone step, I stared at him, fixing my gaze against his. This close, he could not avoid my eyes without being painted a coward, and so he held steady. After a moment, a smirk drew his lips and he squared his shoulders. There was only a foot or so of space between us.

"I thought you were an impartial judge, Inquisitor?" He taunted, his chin tipped to one side. "For all your ego and boasting that you will judge people fairly, you will fail here and now, and I revel in the knowledge that I am your failure."

There would be no reasoning with the man. Imprisonment would do him no good, as he would wilt and wither away, bothering his guards or captors with his nonsense. Exile would allow him to return to Corypheus and Tevinter wanted nothing to do with him. I would not give him to the Wardens, on the off chance he would weasel his way free of them and escape to his master.

We continued to stare at each other, but as I had not answered him, he grew nervous at my silence. He fidgeted under my slow blinking stare and sweat began to bead over his brow. He attempted to step back and away from me, but I reached out and snapped my grip to his elbow, holding him in place. I could see a swallow bob down his throat from the edge of my vision.

"I will make you this promise, Erimond." I murmured quietly, keeping my words between us. "I have seen the Fade and trekked its shadows with every inch of the fear you've sewn. I will send you there."

"You do not understand the fear that awaits you when my master succeeds, Inquisitor. The Fade holds no fear for me." Erimond replied coldly, his gaze riveted to mine.

"No, it probably doesn't. But know this, Erimond." I tightened by grip on his elbow, causing him to wince. "I am no mage, and I have no magic, and I have entered the Fade and left it. I will find you. As in this life, so the next." Slowly, the implications of my promise bloomed behind Erimond's eyes. Sure, glory awaited him in the next life, but so did I, as I knew where the Fade was, and I had already proven I could break into it, and out of it.

He would not run from me, not now, or ever.

I stepped back and released his elbow. I stayed on his same level, feeling instinctively that taking the one step back to be on higher ground would diminish my hold on his attention. I raised my chin and inhaled to my stomach to allow my voice to carry over his head and into the crowd of nobles that held their breaths in suspense.

"Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, I sentence you to death by my hand, so I may be assured that your life is forever a footnote in the ledger of the Inquisition's chores." With that, I swiftly stepped backward as the man snarled a curse at me, lunging forward as if to bite my head off. Between that moment and the next, both Erimond and I were surprised to find a large hand had encased his throat and held him back.

I hadn't been aware of Bull's approach in the time I had taken to speak to Erimond privately, but he had been quick enough to snatch the man back from his headbutt. The cold, green-eyed stare of the Qunari's singular eye silenced the magister, as his mouth clicked shut and his teeth locked together. I straightened my back and nodded to Bull.

"Take him to the gallows," I ordered Bull, my eyes on Erimond, "we won't waste his time by waiting until dawn."

"Understood, Boss." Bull acknowledged. His hand on Erimond's throat dropped heavily to the man's shoulder and turned him around with a controlled yank. Krem appeared on Erimond's right side as Bull took the left and they marched the magister from the hall. The nobility turned away from Erimond's retreating back to face me like a collective.

Deep breath.

"Commander Cullen," I shot my words over my shoulder, "bring me the Sword of the Inquisition."


Note: Hot damn, that took forever and a day. Happy Holidays, everyone! Thanks again for all your comments, they drive me forward!