Maxwell found Cassandra scribing away at a desk. "Writing does not come naturally to me, as I'm certain you can imagine."
"Let me guess: You're composing a love poem?"
Cassandra looked up at him, and then slowly shook her head. "I couldn't, not even if my life depended on it."
"It's not that hard."
"Yes, it is. Poetry takes finesse, it takes…" Cassandra laid the pen down. "Grace."
"You don't think you have those things?"
An eyeroll was the response. "Historians will one day ask what happened at Adamant Fortress, in the Fade. I was there. I saw it with my own eyes. It must be recorded."
"That's an excellent idea, Cassandra," Maxwell nodded.
"I certainly thought so… until I started writing." She stood, and walked to the railing. "I still don't know what to say about the spirit of the Divine. I saw her there, heard her voice. Yet I cannot claim with certainty it was really her. The Chantry teaches us that the souls of the dead pass through the Fade, so it could have been her. Yet even so…"
"Do you really think it might have been her? A ghost?"
"A ghost, a remnant of her hopes and memories, her lingering will to do good…" Cassandra leaned over the railing to watch the smiths working below. "Those things are all possible. Nobody knows for certain what happens after we die. A spirit could have assumed her form…" She looked over at Maxwell. "But why? It helped you, as Justinia herself would have."
To help, as Cole did. Who, except perhaps Solas, truly could understand the motivations of the spirits? "Perhaps it doesn't matter what she really was, then."
"It matters to me, to what I must write." She leaned back from the railing. "I must interpret what I saw, yet I am no priest, no philosopher. I am a warrior."
Maxwell wasn't too sure himself. "I don't know the truth any more than you do."
Cassandra sighed. "Sadly, unanswered questions make for poor reading." Cassandra turned and leaned her back against the railing. "When I realised we were physically in the Fade, I was terrified almost beyond reason. The last time such a thing happened, we created darkspawn. We created Corypheus. The world needs to know the truth this time. No more legends lost to the ages."
The Chargers had returned from collapsing Adamant. Adaar made a comment about owing them a drink, and the next thing she knew Iron Bull was dragging her to the tavern to do official introductions. She found herself sitting at a table with an ale in front of her, and realising her Inquisition was full of crazy people. The Chargers were riding almost as high on their victory over some varghasts as they had their destruction on the envy demon they'd found in Therinfal Redoubt.
Krem and Iron Bull bantered back and forth, insulting each other quite merrily. Adaar nearly choked on her drink when the words "pillowy man-bosoms" were tossed about. Iron Bull pointed at various people, calling them by their nicknames. She was tempted to ask him if he even actually knew their real names. It was clear how proud he was of his team.
She had seen the power of Dalish's 'bow' first hand. The 'archer' was likely quite formidable. The face tattoos on the not-a-mage were very similar to Theron's, and she made a mental note to ask if they were from the same clan.
Adaar looked at him and shook her head. "You really taking anyone, don't you?"
"Anyone who can carry their weight in a fight."
"And who can put up your bullshit, chief," Krem added.
Chargers then lifted their glasses and actually broke into song. "No man can beat the Chargers, 'cause we'll hit you where it hurts. Unless you know a tavern with loose cards and looser skirts. For every bloody battlefield, we'll gladly raise a cup. No matter what tomorrow holds, our horns be pointing up."
She was on her way out of the tavern when she noticed Sutherland. Apparently, he'd done well in the fight against the bandits, and had even recruited another mage to the Inquisition. She congratulated him, and told him to keep up the good work.
Dorian was sitting on a ledge with a bottle beside him, watching the soldiers train. Evelyn sat down next to him, and he smiled. "It occurs to me that you're a mage." He passed her the bottle.
"That just occurred to you?" She accepted, and took a drink.
"I meant…" He accepted the bottle back and took a long drink of his own. "You must have been part of the Circle of Magic. In the South. Meaning you were locked away like a criminal, at least until you rebelled. It's such a bizarre notion, to me."
"There are worse things than being kept in the Circles." Though if she were honest, she'd have to admit there were better things as well.
"Death, starvation, being hunted by rabid mobs? Yes, I can imagine." He paused to watch the end of a sparring match. "Some would say Tevinter is hardly better, depending on which mage you ask. Still, it's so utterly foreign. It's more surprising that everyone would take the idea that the Inquisitor has a mage sister so…" His eyes went to where several templars were practicing with the soldiers. "Calmly." He shrugged. "Or maybe it's not calm? Maybe the Antivan Crows are swimming in gold from all the contracts on your life." He elbowed her playfully. "Good luck with that, by the way. Grand fun, being the one in charge."
She snagged the bottle back from him and took another drink. "Did you find the book you were looking for?"
"Some of them. I've asked Josephine to locate a few others. She's added them to the list Solas gave her." He tilted his head at her. "Did you know we are actually related?"
"Not that surprising."
He laughed. "Not first cousins or anything. Perhaps he was even the one who ventured to Ostwick to establish the branch? We are talking long ago, of course."
"You know that off the top of your head?"
"Not the top. Maybe the lower middle or thereabouts. Bloodlines are serious business in Tevinter. You're taught lessons and tested…" He gestured. "By strict nannies. I heard your family mentioned, and I had to go through all the old mnemonics. But yes—there it is."
"Have you told my brother?"
"No, and I don't think I ought to," said Dorian. "Can you imagine if word got out that the Inquisitor is related to a Tevinter magister or at least the son of a magister?"
Evelyn nodded. "People are still getting used to mages being free."
Theron was listening to the Inquisitor and Erdic report in the thaig and he had to say that he found the newest travelling.
"So, lyrium can get the blight," said Theron.
"According to Bianca," said Erdic.
"I suppose I would explain the effects," said Theron. "I was always curious about this red lyrium, that was why I led an expedition down into that thaig find out more, but we never did. This have explains how Corypheus doesn't seem to be affected by the stuff. This just means that getting rid of it has to be our main priority."
The Inquisitor nodded. "We need to find where the red templars get their lyrium. Cullen is working on that as we speak."
"Then I suppose there is nothing we can do except wait and hope," said Theron.
Erdic then left and the Inquisitor was making his way out as well, but then Theron grabbed his arm.
"Inquisitor, may I have a private word," said Theron.
Inquisitor looked at him. "Sure, Theron."
"It's about Leliana," said Theron as if he was making sure that Leliana wasn't here. "I know that the death of Justinia has shaking her pretty hard. Leliana is a brilliant woman and personally I find that her faith is her most important quality, but with her death her faith has wavered."
"And you want me to restore it," Inquisitor finished. "Isn't this something you should do?"
"I fear after my little betrayal of her heart that she may not see me in the same light," said Theron. "This is not the first time that she her faith has wavered and I was able to put on the right path. Inquisitor, I fear for her and all that I ask you is that you look out for her."
The Inquisitor looked at him and then placed a hand on the shoulder. "I promise."
"Thank you," said Theron.
Evelyn found Cullen in his study, she had acted as peacemaker to the mages and the templars which was not easy. She was pleased that Cullen was different than several templars that she knew.
"Here's the report," she said placing the papers down on his desk.
"Thank you," said Cullen looking up at her and she could have sworn that he blushed.
"I should get to know you better." She glanced up at him. "We're working together, after all."
"What would you like to know?"
"All right…" She considered for a moment. "Where are you from?"
"I grew up in Ferelden, near Honnleath. I was transferred to Kirkwall shortly after the Blight." He looked out over the view. "Travelling to Haven was the first I'd returning almost ten years."
"Varric's from Kirkwall. Did you two know each other?"
"I knew he was friends with the Champion of Kirkwall, but little else. We've spoken more since I joined the Inquisition. Largely at Varric's insistence." He rolled his eyes. "Apparently I spend too much time with a serious expression on my face, and it's bad for my health."
She chuckled. "You were away from Ferelden in ten years. Was it strange being back there again?"
"Strange? No," he said shaking his head. "If anything, the opposite. I was not sorry to leave Ferelden the way I did. I had no desire to return. But leaving Haven was more different than I would have imagined—not just because of Corypheus forced it upon us. It felt like I was abandoning my home. I never thought I'd feel that way again."
"What was Kirkwall like?"
He raised an eyebrow at her. "While I was there, Qunari occupied and then attacked the city, the viscount's murder caused political unrest…" He gestured. "Relations between mages and templars fell apart, an apostate blew up the Chantry, and the knight-commander went mad. Other than that, it was fine."
And many of their current problems could be traced back to those very events. "What happened between Kirkwall's mages and templars?"
"Your brother was at the Conclave. He must have told you what happened."
Maxwell had at least a hundred conflicting versions of the tale. "Yes, but you were there."
He sighed. "There was tension between mages and templars long before I arrived. Eventually, it reached a breaking point. There was fighting in the streets. Abominations began killing both sides. It was a nightmare."
"What happened then?"
"The templars should have restored order, but red lyrium had driven Knight-Commander Meredith mad. She threatened to kill Kirkwall's Champion, turned on her own men. I'm not sure how far she would have gone. Too far."
"So you opposed her?"
"I stood with the Champion against her. In the end." He sighed. "But I should have seen through Meredith sooner." He seemed to be directing the last comment towards himself rather than towards her.
"You were in Ferelden during the Blight. Did you fight darkspawn?"
"No. I was stationed at Ferelden's Circle Tower. The Circle had troubles of its own. I…" He hesitated. "Remained there during the Blight."
If the stories she'd heard held any truth, the Circle tower of Ferelden had almost been annulled. "What happened at the Circle Tower?"
"Few who survived the Blight have fond memories of that time. I would prefer not to speak of it."
She decided to change the subject entirely. "I'd like to know more about the templars."
"What would you like to know?"
"Why did you join the Order?"
"I could think of no better calling than to protect those in need. I used to beg the templars at our local chantry to teach me. At first they merely humored me, but I must have shown promise." He shrugged. "Or at least a willingness to learn. The knight-captain spoke to my parents on my behalf. They agreed to send me for training. I was thirteen when I left home."
"Thirteen—that's still so young."
"I wasn't the youngest there. Some children are promised to the Order at infancy. Still, I didn't take on full responsibilities until I was eighteen. The Order sees you trained and educated first."
"What about your family? Did you miss them?"
"Of course. But there were many my age who felt the same. We learned to look out for one another."
"Did you enjoy your training?"
"I wanted to learn everything." He smiled. "If I was giving my life to this, I would be the best templar I could."
"You were a model student."
He laughed. "I wanted to be. I wasn't always successful. Watching a candle burn down while reciting the Chant of Transfigurations wasn't the most exciting task. I admit, my mind sometimes wandered."
"What do you think of mages? Are they all a threat?"
"I've seen the suffering magic can inflict. I've treated mages with distrust because of it—at times without cause." His eyes went to the staff she carried. "That was unworthy of me. I will try not to do so here. Not that I want mages moving through our base completely unchecked. We need safeguards in place to protect people—including mages—from possession, at the least."
"I know how I spent my time in the Circle, but what was a typical day for a templar?"
He laughed. "'Typical'. The last time I was in a Circle was right before it fell apart. Nothing was typical."
"Before that, then."
"Certain rituals require a full guard. A mage's Harrowing, for instance. I've attended a few. Most of the time you merely maintain a presence - on patrol or in the Circle, ready to respond if needed. Mages pretend to ignore that presence, but they are watching you just as closely."
Failing to pay attention to what the templars were doing could have dire consequences. "We would spend all day with templars, and yet they rarely spoke to us."
"A habit often mistaken for coldness, I'm sure. But we are expected to keep a certain distance from our charges. If a mage is possessed or uses blood magic, you must act quickly, without hesitation. Your judgment cannot be clouded." He rested his hands on his sword hilt. "Of course, ignoring one another does nothing to foster understanding."
"Do templars take vows? 'I swear to the Maker to watch all the mages'—that sort of thing?"
"There's a vigil first. You're meant to be at peace during that time, but your life is about to change. When it's over, you give yourself to a life of service. That's when you're given a philtre—your first draught of lyrium—and its power. As templars, we are not to seek wealth or acknowledgment. Our lives belong to the Maker and the path we have chosen."
"A life of service and sacrifice. Are templars also expected to give up... physical temptations?"
"Physical? Why" He cleared his throat. "Why would you… That's not expected. Templars can marry—although there are rules around it, and the Order must grant permission… Some may choose to give up more to prove their devotion, but it's, um, not required."
"Have you?" Oh, Maker, had she really just asked that? She could feel her cheeks starting to burn.
"Me? I… um… no, I've taken no such vows. Maker's breath—can we speak of something else?"
Evelyn decided that she had embarrassed another and left the study and she could have sworn that Cullen was looking down at her hindquarters.
Maxwell found Cassandra in the war room, glaring at the map. She sighed. "I can keep staring at this, but I won't get any closer."
"Keep banging your head against the problem. It will go away eventually," Maxwell joked.
Cassandra chuckled. "I'm predictable, I know."
"Something I can help you with?" Cassandra leaned on the table and looked up at him. "I suppose I'll never find them on my own. We saw so many red templars at the assault on Haven. Perhaps all that was left of the Order. What we didn't see was Lord Seeker Lucius. Indeed, I've seen no hint of any Seekers amongst the red templars. Or anywhere. I've a growing suspicion Corypheus has imprisoned them."
"Finding them obviously means a lot to you."
"I left the Order, but I can never abandon them." Her shoulders slumped a little. "I cannot even claim that rescuing them would be beneficial—they wouldn't look kindly on the Inquisition. But even so, if there's a chance…"
"We'll find them, Cassandra."
"If we can spare resources to follow up on these leads, Inquisitor, I would appreciate it."
"I'll get Leliana's people on it immediately."
Erdic tried explaining to Sera that she was welcome to ask for jam whenever she wanted it, and Sera gave a rather confusing explanation that seemed to claim that jam was somehow sweeter if it was pilfered.
"So tell me about yourself, Sera."
"Oh, yeah? Interested, are you?"
Erdic gestured for the server to bring them a couple drinks. "How about the basics. Where are you from?"
"Ferelden."
"I got that from the accent. Where in Ferelden?"
Sera shrugged. "All over? Okay. Fine. Denerim for a bit. South. North. Wherever I want."
Two could play this game. "Oh, you're from Wherever? I'm from North Wherever."
"What?" Sera snorted.
"North Wherever. Oh, we had fun on Street and/or in Local Tavern."
"Oh, har-dee-har. All funny, you." Sera took a gulp from her drink. "It's complicated. I don't like complicated. Let's leave it at that. Maybe."
Erdic tried another tactic, asking her about the Red Jenny network, but came away somewhat more confused than when she started. He was somewhat mollified to know that the worst she apparently rated was a pie to the face.
"We annoyed some nobles. Does that really help all that much?"
"It helped make a dead idiot. That's a good return for time." Sera took another gulp from her drink. "Punch a bully, people like you. Do it because they asked. Or let them think they asked, they like it even more. It's inspiring, even if it sometimes goes tits up and they take a hit back. You know, like Haven?"
"It must have gone wrong before. How many times have you almost died?"
She raised an eyebrow at Erdic. "What fight were you in? We didn't almost die. Besides, I only have to start these punch-ups."
"First the templars, now the Grey Wardens." Cullen shook his head as he picked up the chain shirt. "Both devoted their lives to fighting evil. Now they serve it."
"What a better way to demoralise the people of Thedas than to corrupt their heroes?" said Maxwell crossing his arms. "If Corypheus appears with templars and Grey Wardens at his side, why shouldn't they follow, too?"
Cullen sighed. "Because now is not the time to lose hope. The Inquisition must serve as an example. We must stand where others fall."
"I've noticed that you when my sister has been seen each other more lately," said Maxwell.
Cullen looked startled. "Inquisitor—I—that is to say I didn't—"
Maxwell shook his head. "It's fine Cullen, I just wanted to know if you care for her."
"She's a mage and it is my duty to protect her," said Cullen.
Maxwell simply shook his head and walked out the room.
Theron and Leliana came up with a location. Caer Oswin. He collected Cassandra and a few of the others.
"Where did you get all those arrows, Sera? You've got hundreds."
"From your arse!"
Dorian rolled his eyes. "Well my arse should open up a shop. Apparently it's quite prolific."
"Caer Oswin. Odd that the trail should lead us here." Cassandra stared up at the old, decrepit keep. "Bann Loren is a pious, unassuming man. What has he become involved in?"
"He might simply be a victim as well," said Maxwell.
"Let's see what lies within." Cassandra took a deep breath as she followed Maxwell.
There were no guards on the gate, nor at the front. They had moved a short distance down the hall before they caught a glimpse of the first person. The man immediately drew his sword and ran into the next room.
Maxwell signalled for his people to be on guard, then gave chase. Three other guards met them, but were no match for his party. He gave them the option of surrendering, but none took him up on it.
Cassandra turned over one of the bodies. "Promisers. I should have known." She looked up at Maxwell. "The Order of Fiery Promise is a cult with…" She stood. "Strange beliefs about the Seekers. They've hounded us for centuries."
"What kind of 'strange beliefs?'" Maxwell looked around the room.
"They believe they are Seekers—the only rightful ones." Cassandra checked one of the other bodies. "They say we robbed their powers long ago, preventing them from ending the world."
"Ending the world?"
"The only way to truly eradicate evil, in their eyes. 'The world will be reborn a paradise.'"
Though he didn't have much hope, he asked anyway. "Is it possible to negotiate with them?"
"They're fanatics, drunk on whatever forbidden magic they can find to make themselves 'true' Seekers." Cassandra began walking to the next room. "This explains why the Seekers might be here, but not the connection to Corypheus."
They soon found proof that the Seekers were indeed in the keep, but sadly it was not good news. They looked at the remains of what used to be a Seeker.
"A Seeker." Cassandra's voice hitched slightly, then filled with anger. "Did they torture him to death?" Her fists clenched. "The Promisers will pay for this."
Maxwell knelt. The man had been dead at least a few days. Blackwall handed him a piece of cloth, and he placed it over the man respectfully. They would build a pyre for him when they were found the others.
In the courtyard, Maxwell and Cassandra fought back to back. The Seeker charged forward, battering with the shield as readily as the blade. Blackwall moved in beside him, protecting his back. Dorian and Sera leaped from the ramparts onto the stable roof, and used their vantage point to pick off anything that would threaten the warriors.
An overhead swing from Cassandra took out the last of the guards. She then approached the fallen Seeker and removed a piece of parchment. "'As the Seekers of Truth have proven resistant to the effects of red lyrium, the Elder One has seen fit to place them in your care. Reclaim your destiny, and know that the Elder One expects your devotion as repayment.' Signed by Lord Samson, commander of the red templars." She crumbled the parchment in her hand. "Does Corypheus not realize the Promisers want the world to end? What use are they to him?"
It was doubtful Corypheus intended to fulfil his side of any bargain. "Corypheus will probably betray them before they get their chance."
Cassandra nodded in agreement. "But after he gets what he needs out of them. But this doesn't explain how he captured the Seekers in the first place, or what's been done with them. We must keep looking."
"The letter said Seekers were resistant to red lyrium."
"Our abilities grant us many gifts, but a resistance to red lyrium's corruption? That seems strange. Although it would explain why none of us have numbered among the red templars…" Cassandra tucked the parchment away. "And thus Seekers would be useless to Corypheus. He would have no leash to hold us."
Maxwell had a good feeling that all of the Seekers were dead. "Do you really want to keep looking? What we find not be pleasant."
"I do not shy away from unpleasant things. I must know."
Together, they headed back into the keep.
They fought their way through another room of cultists. Dorian made a comment about confiscating some of the books in the library as they continued moving through, prompting a disgusted noise from Cassandra.
Blackwall had to put his shoulder into the huge wooden door to get it moving. They started into another hall, and then Cassandra rushed ahead. He ran after her and soon found the reason why she dashed off.
A young man lay at the base of the stairs. "Daniel!" Cassandra called out as she moved towards him. "Daniel, can you hear me?"
"Cassandra?" He looked up at her, and weakly managed to pull himself up into a sitting position. "It is you. You're alive."
She knelt beside him. "As are you. I'm so glad I found you."
Maxwell could see the veins beneath the young man's skin. They glowed with a darker red, and the glow reached his eyes. He'd seen the same in his companions, in that dark future. He was dying. And from the look on his face, he knew it to. "No, they…" He swallowed. "Put a demon inside me. It's tearing me up."
"What? You can't be possessed—that's impossible!" Cassandra took his hand in hers.
"I'm not possessed. They…" He coughed. "Fed me things. I can feel it growing."
Maxwell looked at Cassandra. "Can a demon be grown inside someone?"
Cassandra clenched her fists in anger. "Savages! I will tell every last one of them apart!"
"No," said Daniel weakly. He tightened his hand around hers. "The Lord Seeker."
"Of course we'll find him. If he lives, we'll—"
"Lucius betrayed us, Cassandra." Daniel swallowed. "He sent us here, one by one. 'An important mission,' he said. Lies. He was here with them all along. He's still working with them."
"But we met Lord Seeker Lucius in Val Royeaux." Maxwell shook his head. "He couldn't have been here."
"That wasn't him. It was a demon, masquerading."
The Chargers had hunted and killed a shapeshifting demon when they investigated Therinfal Redoubt. Cassandra looked stunned. "What? How could that be?"
"The Lord Seeker allowed it. He let the demon take command, while he…"
"Came here," Cassandra finished.
A demon. The Lord Seeker had fed the templars to a demon. He'd given them to Samson willingly. Knowingly. "Cassandra…"
Cassandra's eyes narrowed. "Now is not the time for sympathy."
"Wait. Don't leave me like this. Please…"
"You should have come with me." Cassandra stared at the young man. "You didn't believe in the war any more than I did."
He smiled weakly up at her. "You know me. I wanted that promotion." He coughed again.
She drew her sword. "Go to the Maker's side, Daniel. You will be welcome."
Maxwell closes eyes as Cassandra lowered her sword.
"He was my apprentice. I have never known a finer young man." Cassandra's voice was quiet. "Now we find Lord Seeker Lucius."
Maxwell wished he knew what to say. How many good men and women had been lost?
Cassandra stalked towards the man in the darker armour. "Lord Seeker Lucius."
"Cassandra." He walked towards them, flanked by several templars. His eyes flicked to Maxwell before returning to Cassandra. "With a man I can only assume is the new Inquisitor."
"And you're the man who betrayed his own Order."
He stopped several paces away from them. "I presume you know we Seekers of Truth were once the original Inquisition." He gestured. "Oh, yes. We fought to restore order in a time of madness long ago, as you do now. And we became proud. We sought to remake the world—to make it better." He shook his head. "But what did we create? The Chantry. The Circles of Magi. A war that will see no end."
His knuckles went white as he tightened his hands on his daggers. "You lured your entire Order to their deaths!"
"There was no other choice." His face was more resigned than regretful.
"No other choice?" Cassandra took a step forward. "Have you gone mad?"
"We Seekers are abominations, Cassandra." He gestured with one hand. "We created a decaying world, and fought to preserve it even as it crumbled. We had to be stopped." He took a massive tome from the templar behind him. "You don't believe me? See for yourself." He offered the book to Cassandra. "The secrets of our Order, passed to me after the former Lord Seeker was slain. The war with the mages had already begun, but it was not too late for me to do the right thing."
Maxwell looked at Cassandra. "He's completely mad, isn't he?"
"Lord Seeker, what you've done…" Cassandra's voice was pained.
"I know." He spread his hands. "What Corypheus did with the templars does not matter. I have seen the future. I have created a new Order to replace the old. The world will end so we can start anew—a pure beginning." He held out a hand. "Join us, Cassandra. It is the Maker's will."
Cassandra actually snarled as she drew her blade.
Cassandra panted, and bent to wipe her blade clean. "He was insane. He had to be." She sheathed the blade, then looked up at the Inquisitor to see a reflection of her own confusion and anger. "The influence of Corypheus, perhaps? Was he trying to disable the Seekers?"
The Inquisitor bent and closed the eyes of the templar near him. "All these wasted lives…"
There had to be survivors. Somewhere. Men and women too far away to be recalled. "He could not have destroyed all of us. I won't accept it." She picked up the book. "Let us return to Skyhold. I wish to see what's in this 'book of secrets.'"
Maxwell saw Cassandra sitting at the table, staring at the book. He walked over and sat across from her. Cassandra let out a sigh. "This tome has passed from Lord Seeker to Lord Seeker, since the time of the old Inquisition. And now it falls to me."
"Are you all right? You look drained."
"On the contrary, it's a delight. I'm riveted."
It took Maxwell several seconds to make the realisation. "Oh, you're joking."
"I assume you know about the Rite of Tranquility." Cassandra looked back at the book. "The last resort used on mages in the Circle, leaving them unable to cast but depriving them of dreams and all emotion. It should only be used on those who cannot control their abilities…" Cassandra looked back up at him. "But that has not always been the case."
Tranquility. He knew it from his Evelyn, it had been her worst nightmare. "Does the book say it was used for other things?"
"No. As a Seeker, I looked into…" She slumped a little in her chair. "Abuses. Mages made tranquil as punishment. What finally began the mage rebellion was the discovery the Rite of Tranquility could be reversed. The Lord Seeker at the time covered it up—harshly. There were death." Including his, at the hands of none other than their own Cole. "It was dangerous knowledge. The shock of its discover in addition to what happened in Kirkwall…" She looked back down at the book. "But it appears we've always known how to reverse the rite. From the beginning."
Maxwell sighed. "So the rebellion could have been prevented."
Cassandra shrugged. "Perhaps, but it was a long time coming, for many reasons." There was another short pause before Cassandra continued. "We created the Rite of Tranquility." Cassandra leaned back. "To become a Seeker, I spent months in a vigil, emptying myself of all emotion. I was made Tranquil, and did not even know. Then the vigil summoned a spirit of faith to touch my mind. That broke Tranquility—and gave me my abilities. The Seekers did not share that secret. Not with me, not with the Chantry. Not even with…"
Cassandra stood, and walked to the window. "There's more. Lucius was not wrong about the Order. I thought to rebuild the Seekers once victory was ours. Now I'm not certain it deserves to be rebuilt."
Secrets were getting people killed. But good people remained. Cassandra was one of them. "If anyone can rebuild them into something worthwhile, you can," said Maxwell.
"But are they worth rebuilding?
"You could make them worth it."
"I…" Cassandra looked a bit lost for words. "I will think on your words." She then turned and looked at him. "Thank you. I could not have done this on my own."
