Val Royeaux was indeed a beautiful city, but that city was in the middle of great mourning. As they crossed the bridge they notice the hanging decorations and could hear the bells ringing in the distance.
"The city still mourns," said Cassandra.
They hadn't gone far when a woman saw them and backed away, gasping in shock and more than a little fear.
Varric shrugged. "Just a guess, Seeker, but I think they all know who we are."
"Your skills of observation never fail to impress me, Varric."
A young woman dressed in the Inquisition's armour came rushing up. "My lord Herald."
Cassandra blinked. "You're one of Leliana's people. What have you found?"
"The Chantry mothers await you, but…" The young woman swallowed. "So do a great many templars."
"There are templars here?"
The young woman nodded. "People seem to think the templars will protect them… from the Inquisition. They're gathering on the other side of the market. I think that's where the templars intend to meet you."
"Only one thing to do, then." Cassandra gestured for them to keep moving. "They wish to protect the people? From us?"
Maxwell sighed. "Protect them from the blasphemous Herald of Andraste, I'd say."
"Surely they cannot think such a thing!" the young woman yelled.
"Why not? They wouldn't be the only ones," said Erdic.
Varric shifted his crossbow. "You think the Order's returned to the fold, maybe? To deal with us upstarts?"
"I know Lord Seeker Lucius." Cassandra narrowed her eyes, then shook her head. "I can't imagine him coming to the Chantry's defence, not after all that's occurred."
"I have to agree," said Adaar. "The templars were quite furious when they heard that my company was acting as security."
"So the potential for trouble has increased twofold," said Ellana now clutching her staff.
"Perhaps." Cassandra gestured at the young woman. "Return to Haven. Someone will need to inform them if we are…" She sighed. "Delayed."
"As you say, my lady."
They soon came across a large group of people standing in front of the podium where Chantry mothers were praying.
"Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me! Together we mourn our Divine. Her naive and beautiful heart silenced by treachery!" said one of the revered mother as they approached. "You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more. You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more!" Behind her, a half dozen templars shifted their positions slightly, as if unsure what to do. "Behold the so-called Herald of Andraste and his make-believe Honour Guard! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell. We say this is a false prophet! No sound of anything beyond his selfish greed! And the Maker would send no elf or dwarf in our hour of need! And definitely not a wicked Qunari sent to subvert the Maker's word!"
All eyes turned towards them. Maxwell squared his shoulders, and let his voice ring out. "You say we're am the enemy. The Breach in the sky is our true enemy."
"It's true!" Cassandra moved to his side. "The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late!"
"It is already too late! The templars have returned to the Chantry!" The mother gestured to where a small group of templars was approaching. "They will face this 'Inquisition,' and the people will be safe once more!" One of the approaching templars cuffed her in the back of the head, and she cried out in pain as she fell.
The templar that had been guarding the mother started to step forward, and the man leading the other group put up a hand to restrain him. "Still yourself. She is beneath us."
Maxwell wasn't particularly happy with the Chantry at the moment, but striking an unarmed Chantry mother? He himself was a Chantry brother and he knew that was blasphemy. "What's the meaning of this?"
He sneered at him. "Her claim to 'authority' is an insult, much like your own."
Cassandra stepped forward. "Lord Seeker Lucius, it's imperative that we speak with—"
He cut her off with a sharp gestured. "You will not address me."
"Lord Seeker?" Cassandra's voice was startled.
"Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste's prophet. You should be ashamed." He turned towards the crowd, gesturing grandly. "You should all be ashamed! The templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages! You are the ones who have failed! You who'd leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear! If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is mine."
Maxwell narrowed his eyes. Some of the men with him had faces just as shock as Cassandra's. Maybe something could be salvaged. Cullen had been a templar, after all. "Templars, one of your own commands the Inquisition's forces. Join us, as he did!"
Lucius scoffed. "A staunch and loyal member of the Order. So loyal, he abandoned them for a false Herald."
A young man with a Fereldan accent shook his head. "But Lord Seeker…" He glanced at him and then to the others. "What if he really was sent by the Maker? What if—?"
The man who'd struck the mother stepped towards him. "You are called to a higher purpose! Do not question!"
Lucius continued speaking, addressing them now, rather than the crowd. "I will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the Void. We deserve recognition. Independence! You have shown me nothing, and the Inquisition…" He smirked. "Less than nothing. Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!"
They stood for a moment, watching the templars leave.
Varric folded his arms. "Charming fellow, isn't he?"
"I have to admit I wasn't expecting this from them," said Erdic.
Cassandra looked aghast. "Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?"
"Do you know him very well?" Adaar asked with a raised eyebrow.
"He took over the Seekers of Truth two years ago, after Lord Seeker Lambert's death. He was always a decent man, never given to ambition and grandstanding." Cassandra shook her head. "This is very bizarre."
"Do you think he can be reasoned with?" Maxwell asked.
"I hope so. If not him, there are surely others in the Order who don't feel as he does. Either way, we should first return to Haven and inform the others."
Instead of leaving, Maxwell went to check on the injured mother. The woman glared up at them. "This victory must please you greatly, Seeker Cassandra."
"We came here seeking only to speak with the mothers. This is not your doing, but yours."
"And you had no part in forcing our hand? Do not delude yourself. Now we have been shown up by our own templars, in front of everyone. And my fellow clerics have scattered to the wind, along with their convictions." She turned her gaze to Maxwell. "Just tell me one thing: if you do not truly believe you and your guard are the Maker's chosen, then what are you?"
The answer was obvious. "People who can help close the Breach and end this madness."
"That is…" The mother relaxed slightly. "More comforting than you might imagine. I suppose it is out of our hands now. We shall see what the Maker plans in the days to come."
Ellana fingers glowed white as she touched the wound. "There's got to be a way to calm everything down and clean up this mess," she said
"I hope against hope that may be the case." The mother let the other Chantry folk help her to her feet, and nodded at Maxwell before leaving.
"Excuse me, but…" One of the merchants gestured to them as they left the dais. "Is that they're saying real? The Inquisition's going to fix the hole in the sky?"
Maxwell nodded. "That's what we're attempting, yes."
"No one is doing anything. The Chantry's useless, and the templars…" The woman gave a frustrated shake of her head, and spread her hands. "Andraste, I never thought they'd abandon us." She took a deep breath. "Listen. Your camp will need food. I have contacts. We'll have deliveries there in days."
Cassandra blinked. "You want to help the Inquisition?"
"Never been part of something this big before, but…" The woman hesitated, and then nodded firmly. "If your Inquisition's going to seal the sky, I want to help."
"What do you think, Cassandra?" Maxwell glanced at the other woman.
"I think the woman is asking you and not me."
"Well, he is…" The merchant glanced from one to the other.
"The Herald of Andraste. Yes, I understand. Haven is a mess, but we won't turn away anyone willing to help. Invite her, if it pleases you."
"Head to Haven, then." Maxwell touched the woman's shoulder. "We need good people."
"I don't know if I'm that, but it'll be nice to see."
"Thank you."
They hadn't gone far when an arrow struck the ground near them. A piece of parchment was tied to it.
"Clearly someone wants our attention," said Erdic as Maxwell retrieve the parchment.
"I think someone else's wants you're attention, but not as dramatic," said Adaar noting a messenger waving at them.
A few minutes later, they had an invitation to a back alley, and an invitation to a formal salon. They were walking out of the market when a voice called to them. "If I might have a moment of your time?"
Cassandra looked like she'd swallowed a fly. "Grand Enchanter Fiona?"
"Leader of the mage rebellion." Solas tilted his head. "Is it not dangerous for you to be here?"
"I heard of this gathering, and I wanted to see the fabled Herald of Andraste and his honour guard with my own eyes." Fiona walked towards her, eyes appraising. "If it's help with the Breach you seek, perhaps my people otherwise option. After all, isn't your sister with us?"
"Sister?" said Cassandra looking at Maxwell.
"My twin sister, she was a Senior Enchanter of Circle in Ostwick," Maxwell explained. "When the war broke out, she didn't want to endanger our family and joined the rebel mages at Redcliff."
"She certainly believe that you will treat us fairly than the Chantry or the templars," said Fiona.
"I'm still surprised that the leader of the mages wasn't that the Conclave," said Adaar curiously.
"Yes," said Cassandra suspiciously. "You were supposed to be, and yet somehow you avoided death."
"As did the Lord Seeker, you'll note," Fiona pointed out. Maxwell had quite forgotten that the Lord Seeker was supposed to be at the Conclave as well. "Both of us sent negotiates in our stead, in case it was a trap. I won't pretend I'm not glad to live. I lost many dear friends that day." She then spat. "It disgusts me to think the templars will get away with it. I'm hoping you won't let them."
"So you think the templars are responsible," said Maxwell.
"Why wouldn't she?" Cassandra pointed out
"Lucius hardly seems broken up over his losses, if he is concerned about them at all," said Fiona. Again the Grand Enchanter did had a point. "You heard him. You think he wouldn't happily kill the Divine to turn people against us? So, yes, I think he did it. More than I think you did, at any rate."
"Does that mean the mages will help us?" Maxwell asked hopefully.
"We're willing to discuss it with the Inquisition, at least," said Fiona openly. "Consider this an invitation to Redcliffe: come meet with the mages. An alliance could help us both, after all. I hope to see you there. Au revoir, my lord Herald."
"This day seems to be getting more interesting," said Erdic as he watched the Grand Enchanter walk away.
"Come." Cassandra gestured. "Let us return to Haven."
"Lord Trevelyan of Ostwick, representing the Inquisition." His name, formally announced at an Orlesian salon as a representative of the Inquisition. The messenger that met him in Val Royeaux gave him an invitation from First Enchanter Vivienne. Two nobles then came up to greet him, very warmly.
"A pleasure, sir," said the man. "We so rary have a chance to meet anyone new. It is always the same crowd at these parties. So, you must be a guest of Madame de Fer. Or are you here for Duke Bastien?"
"Are you here on business?" the woman asked. "I have heard the most curious tales of you and your guard. I cannot imagine half of them are true."
Maxwell frowned. "I'm not familiar with that name. I was invited by First Enchanter Vivienne."
The man nodded in understand. "'Madame de Fer' is a… fond nickname the court has given Lady Vivienne."
"I've heard she finds it quite amusing," said the woman.
"I've heard very little of Duke Bastien," said Maxwell.
"He hasn't been seen much at court lately," said the woman sadly.
"His business with the Council of Heralds often takes from home for long periods," said the man. "It can't be good for a man of his years."
"And, of course, there's the civil war," said the woman. "Bastien probably wishes to distance himself from the actions of his one-time son-in-law."
"Tearing at the Dales is a foolish bid for power? It will end in disgraceful Gaspard. Everyone knows it."
"Yes, I can see that quite plainly. And as with those stories you've heard about me I'm afraid that some of the storytellers may have gotten carried away," said Maxwell smiling politely.
"But only for the best effect," said the woman. "The Inquisition is a ripe subject for wild tales."
"The Inquisition? What a load of pig shit!" said a third noble as he strode down the stairs, speaking with a too loud voice of someone who wants an audience. "Washed-up sisters and crazed Seekers? No one can take them seriously. Everyone knows it's just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power."
He kept his voice calm and polite, contrasting his grandstanding. "The Inquisition is working to restore peace and order to Thedas."
He sneered, but the crowd failed to back him. "Here comes the outsider, restoring peace with an army! We know what your 'Inquisition' truly is. If you were a man of honour, you'd step outside and answer the charges." He reached behind him to grasp the hilt of his sword.
He was about to draw his daggers when ice wrapped around his midsection. His eyes went to the woman standing at the top of the stairs.
The woman was black skinned and bald from what he could tell with the mask she was wearing. The way she moved was both with elegance and superiority, it was clear that she was not an enemy to be trifled with.
"My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house…" The woman walked down the stairs grandly. "To my guests. You know such rudeness is…" She tilted her head just slightly. "Intolerable."
"Madame Vivienne, I humbly beg your pardon!"
"You should." She came to stand in front of him. "Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?" She turned to Maxwell. "My lord, you're the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?"
Maxwell didn't want these people to see him as a murderer, it will just claim all the marquis claims. "I think the marquis has seen the error of his ways."
Vivienne then approached the marquis. "By the grace of Andraste, you have your life, my dear," she said and snapped her fingers releasing the marquis. "Do be more careful with it."
Everyone watched as the marquis staggering out of the door. Vivienne gestured for Maxwell to follow her to a quieter corner of the manor. "I'm delighted you could attend this little gathering. I've so wanted to meet you. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchantress to the Imperial Court."
Maxwell gave her a formal bow. "Charmed, Lady Vivienne."
"Ah, but I didn't invite you to the chateau for pleasantries." Vivienne glanced out the nearby window. "With Divine Justina dead, the Chantry is in shambles. Only the Inquisition might restore sanity and order to our frightened people. As the leader of the last loyal mages of Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause."
Her very presence would lend legitimacy to them. Maxwell knew the woman likely had her own motives, but it was too good an offer to pass up. "The Inquisition will be happy to have you, Lady Vivienne."
"Great things are beginning, my dear. I can promise you that."
They fought their way through a small band of armed men, all of which seemed to know exactly who they were.
"Any reason why we're here?" Adaar asked.
"Someone clearly want our attention," said Maxwell as he examine the bodies. "Though judging from the reception we just had it clearly was not them."
"They look like smugglers to me," said Erdic. "I certainly don't recognise them, they must be working for some sort of lowlife."
"Only one way to find out," said Maxwell.
Maxwell started to walk through a door, then Adaar pulled him back just as a very small fireball struck the door.
"Herald of Andraste. How much did you expend to discover me?" The masked man gestured at her. "It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably!"
Maxwell glanced back at his companions, all of which shrugged. He turned to look at the man again. "I don't know who you are!"
"You don't fool me!" He gestured as though putting on a performance. "I'm too important for this to be an accident! My efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere!"
There was a scrambling sound, and they both looked to see his bodyguard falling to the ground. An elven woman drew back a bow. The elf looked about in her mid-twenties and she had short blonde hair that looked as if it was cut from a butter knife.
"Just say 'what!'" she said in a thick Fereldan accent.
"What is the—" She shot him in the face, right through the eye hole of his mask.
"Eww!" The elven woman strode over and retrieved her arrow. "Squishy one, but you heard me, right? 'Just say 'what''. Rich tits always try for more than they deserve. 'Blah blah blah! Obey me! Arrow in my face!'" She stood. "So, you followed the notes well enough. Glad to see you're…" She then noticed Adaar and stared at her. "You're well fit." She then quickly cleared her throat. "Heard about your kind. Seeing's different."
Adaar and Maxwell exchanged looks. What have they just walked into?
The elf then turned her attention onto Maxwell. "You're kind of plain, really. All that talk, and then you're just…" She gestured with the arrow. "A person. I mean, it's all good, innit? The most important thing is: you glow? You're the Herald thingy?"
"They say I'm the Herald of Andraste," said Maxwell stared at the elven woman. "But who are you, and what's this about?"
"No idea, I don't know this idiot from manners. My people just said the Inquisition should look at him."
"Your people." Maxwell raised an eyebrow. "Elves?"
"Ha! No. People people. Name's Sera. This is cover." She gestured. "Get round it." When they gave her blank looks, Sera shrugged. "For the reinforcements. Don't worry. Someone tipped me their equipment shed." She lowered her voice and giggled. "They've got no breeches."
Next thing they realise armed men were walking down the stairs wearing no trousers.
"Why didn't you take their weapons?" Adaar yelled.
"Because no breeches!" Sera laughed.
In no time they managed to defeat the half-naked men, but it had rendered them all confused.
"Friends really came through with that tip," said Sera laughed. "No breeches!" She turned back to Maxwell. "So, Herald of Andraste. You're a strange one. I'd like to join."
Maxwell was still processing what had just happened. "Could we take a few moments for sense to reassert itself?" Maxwell shook his head. "Who are you people?"
"I'm not 'people,' but I get what you want. It's like this." Sera gestured. "I sent you a note to look for hidden stuff by my friends. The Friends of Red Jenny. That's me." She pointed at herself, then shrugged. "Well, I'm one. So is a fence in Montfort, some woman in Kirkwall. There were three in Starkhaven. Brothers or something. It's just a name, yeah? It lets little people, 'Friends', be part of something while they stick it to nobles they hate. So here, in your face, I'm Sera. 'The Friends of Red Jenny' are sort of out there. I used them to help you." She jerked a thumb at her quiver. "Plus arrows."
Maxwell tried, somewhat in vain, to make sense of the torrent of words. Hidden information? "The Inquisition has spies already. Can you add to these professionals?"
"Here's how it is. You 'important' people are up here, shoving your cods around. 'Blah, blah, I'll crush you, I'll crush you!'" Sera wrapped her arms around an imaginary person and made kissing noises. "'Oh, crush you.' Ahem. Then you've got cloaks and spy-kings. Like this tit." She gestured at the dead man. "Or was he one of the little knives, all serious with his…" She scratched her head. "Little knife. All those secrets, and what gave him up? Some houseboy who don't know shite, but knows a bad person when he sees one. So no, I'm not Knifey Shivdark, all hidden. But if you don't listen down here too, you risk your breeches. Like those guards. I stole their…" Sera trailed off, then looked at Maxwell. "Look, do you need people or not? I want to get everything back to normal. Like you?"
Maybe Leliana could figure this out. "All right, Sera. I can use you and you're 'Friends.'"
"Yes! Get in good before you're too big to like. That'll keep your breeches where they should be. Plus extra breeches, because I have all these…" Sera blinked. "You have merchants who buy that pish, yeah? Got to be worth something. Anyway, Haven. See you there, Herald. This will be grand." She hopped over a fence, and was gone.
Maxwell just shook his head. "I'm still trying to process what just happened."
"I think you just recruited a crazed thief," said Adaar.
"Yeah, I know."
