The party had made it back to Haven four days ago. Though they had acquired horses, that made them no less tired after three weeks of battle and travel. There had been a lot to do and many people to help.

For Velthorn, those three weeks had been well spent. The Hinterlands was more peaceful than it had been in months and much of it was being watched by Inquisition forces. The people were rallying to their flag and were no longer dying by the dozens. This was all good news.

Now, Velthorn found himself standing before a map, in a small room, with Cullen and Cassandra shouting at one another over how to approach the Templars for help. They'd come back around to this topic after deciding to send scouts to the Fallow Mire so they might get their captured soldiers back. The reprieve had been brief.

"Stop shouting!" he barked at them.

Both warriors turned to look at him, clearly shocked by his outburst.

"Look," the elf said, "Shouting at each other will get us nowhere. We know that the Templars likely won't even speak to us at the moment. They have no reason to trust us and they know that the Inquisition supports a mage as one of its leading members. We need to build more of a reputation first."

"Speaking of which," Leliana put in, "We got word this morning from those whose names we were given by Mother Giselle. They are willing to meet in Val Royeaux. Here is the letter detailing their offer."

She placed the parchment down on the table, which Velthorn took a closer look at. They wanted to meet in just a few weeks. He and the rest of the team would need to head out almost immediately to make it in time. Probably just what they wanted.

"We would need to leave immediately to make this date," Cassandra said, more than a little anger in her voice.

"They are trying to regain the control they feel they have lost," Leliana said, "We can't let them bully us into submission, but if we fail to meet them after they have publicly announced this meeting, it will show the Inquisition as incompetent."

"Something we should avoid, I take it," Velthorn murmured to himself. Then, aloud, he said, "We make preparations today and leave tomorrow. We don't have much choice."

"Clearly," Cassandra stated.

"I suppose that settles that," Cullen said. "If that's the last of things, I should get back to the recruits."

"And I will draft our acceptance to the meeting," Josephine put in. She gathered up the letter Leliana had produced earlier.

Cassandra, Cullen, and Josephine made their way out of the room, and Velthorn was about to follow him when Leliana caught his arm.

"There is one other thing," she said.

Velthorn nodded. "Of course. What's on your mind?"

The spymaster looked pensive; moreso than usual.

"Our prisoner has spent several weeks down there. He has neither complained nor caused us trouble. But he has also not taken either food or drink. While I don't believe he is a demon, I know he is not normal either. I thought he would have tried something by now, but instead he simply waits."

Leliana paused for a few seconds, carefully thinking over her next words. "I would like to see what he does if we release him. Let him walk Haven freely. We should warn people beforehand, of course, but this being is as mysterious as you were when you first stumbled from the Fade. You have been a great help, and I feel he could be as well, given the chance."

Velthorn thought that over, weighing their options. They couldn't keep the strange elf down there forever, obviously. But it was entirely possible he was dangerous.

"If we do release him and he kills someone, then what? People would lose faith in our ability to lead. Even if he doesn't, his appearance isn't normal. What if someone kills him?"

"I cannot give you answers. I only know what I told you. But we cannot keep him down there indefinitely. We don't have that authority," Leliana countered.

"That's true." Velthorn took a moment. "Let me talk to Cassandra. If I can convince her that letting him free is the right move, we'll do it. And I want Solas there when we release him. Do a few final tests."

Leliana nodded. "Do what you need."

Cassandra was just heading in the direction of the sparring fields when Velthorn caught up to her. It took a lot of convincing and promises, but eventually, Cassandra agreed to let the prisoner loose. Under guard, of course, and he wasn't allowed to leave Haven, but it was a start.

Another hour later found Velthorn, the leading council, Solas, and Varric all down in the dungeon beneath the Chantry. The prisoner looked even more ashen than Velthorn remembered, and gaunter too. Everything about this grey elf was completely perplexing.

With a nervous expression, the guard turned the key in the lock, which gave a loud click. He swung the door open, pulling it in front of him as though to shield himself from the prisoner.

Volyn stepped from the cell, glowing eyes scanning the room and each person in it with a critical gaze. Observation and foresight had kept him alive his entire life and this was likely the most dangerous situation he could be in. Stranded in another world. He refused to die here.

The guard removed his shackles and Volyn rolled his wrists, glad to be free of restraints. He was aching for blood, hungrier than he'd been in a long time, but he was no base creature. He would wait until he could indulge privately. He was still playing innocent, after all.

"So, finally letting me free? What spurred this?" he asked the assembled group.

Leliana spoke. "You've been a model prisoner and we have no cause to keep you longer."

Cassandra cut in, "But make no mistake. You are not free to go. You will stay in Haven until we have some evidence as to who or what you are. You have not eaten since arriving and I find that to be evidence enough that you are some creature from the Fade, but my associates disagree. You will be under guard and should you step one toe out of line, you will be killed."

Pleasant as always, Volyn thought, but he kept that to himself.

"I'm going to do one final test," Solas told him. "To assure our Seeker here that you are not a demon."

"By all means," the vampire replied.

Solas grounded his staff and the orb on top glowed. A white light struck Volyn full in the chest, which caused him to stumble just a little. An uncomfortable warmth filled him and made him feel sick, but he was otherwise unaffected.

"That's a spell meant to shield from demons and their mental manipulations. If he were one, or had one in him, it would have come out to defend itself. He is no demon," the elf stated.

"As I've been telling you," Volyn said.

"Then why haven't you been eating?" Cassandra asked.

Volyn shrugged. "I feel no compulsion to eat food."

Leliana touched Cassandra's arm. "Let him go. All will be revealed eventually."

"Yes, please. It is so very cramped in here," Volyn said to Cassandra.

The woman sneered but replied, "Go."

The vampire didn't need to be told twice. He was glad to be getting out of here.

"That wasn't so bad," Varric said, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't a good idea. Aside from the obvious, something about this Volyn didn't seem right.

"Now we just have to pray he doesn't kill anyone," Josephine said.

"Or that someone doesn't kill him," Solas added.

It took nearly two weeks to make it to Val Royeaux. They made it just two days before their meeting. Leliana and Josephine had made arrangements for the four of them to stay with one "Madame de Fer", who had, much to their surprise, reached out to them.

The First Enchanter was well known and the fact that she wanted to associate with the Inquisition was either very good, or very bad. Leliana could not say which for certain yet, but hoped that this stay could foster a positive relationship between them.

When they arrived at Lady Vivienne's estate, Velthorn could hardly contain his wonder. Of course, all of Val Royeaux seemed a strange place to a young elf who'd lived on the road all his life. Still, the architecture and grandeur of the estate took his breath away.

On the flip side, Val Royeaux didn't seem quite ready for him either. As soon as the party had entered the gates, they were already causing a commotion. Velthorn specifically. With a shining breastplate stamped with the mark of the Inquisition and the leaf green vallaslin clear on his face, people had gasped, cried out, moved out of the way, and flat out bolted.

Secretly, this amused Velthorn highly, but knew it was counterintuitive.

Arriving at the salon, in the midst of a gather, the group uneasily entered. They weren't dressed for the occasion and Velthorn was far from ready for socializing with humans at some high society party. Velthorn was far from ready for socializing with much of anyone, if he was being truthful.

But he put on a good face as he was announced and two party-goers approached him. They spoke of rumors they'd heard of the Inquisition and what had happened at the Breach.

Hoping he didn't look as uncomfortable as he felt, Velthorn told them, "I think perhaps the rumors are a little exaggerated."

"Of course they're not," Varric put in, "I watched the Herald single-handedly fight off a horde of demons and rescue an entire village."

"Oh, this gets better and better," the woman said, "The Inquisition should attend these parties more often."

Someone to the side of them snorted loudly. Velthorn's attention turned to the man, who was descending a staircase.

"The Inquisition? What a load of pig shit." The man was at the base of the stairs now. "Washed-up Sisters and crazed Seekers? No one can take them seriously."

He purposely walked between the party-goers and the Inquisition party. Cassandra probably would have punched him had Velthorn not put an arm in front of her. Solas quietly watched the man with a patient eye.

"Everyone knows it's just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power," the man said with a thick Orlesian accent.

"We're trying to help," Velthorn told him calmly, "I only want to put things right again in a world gone completely mad."

"Oh? Yes of course you are. Restoring peace by building an army. We all know how it goes," the man mocked. He took a step forward, now just two feet from Velthorn. "Your Inquisition is a sham and everyone knows it. If you were a man of honor, or a man at all, you would step outside and answer the charges."

The man grabbed for his sword, but instantly froze. A blue haze had come over him and a thin layer of ice coated his entire being, save for his masked face.

A woman's voice came from the stairs behind him. "My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house. To my guests."

She descended the stairs, a perfect example of poise and power. Her horned headdress and gleaming silver mask gave her an impressive silhouette and the dress she wore showed off all the right parts in all the right ways.

As she came closer, she continued, "You know such rudeness is…intolerable."

If he'd been able, the man probably would have been sweating as the woman walked behind him.

"Madame Vivienne! I humbly beg your pardon!"

"You should," she agreed, coming round to stand in front of him, "Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear? My Lord, you're the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?"

This woman made Velthorn extremely uncomfortable, but he knew the game she was playing. Leliana and Josephine had given him a few pointers before sending him into the wilds of Val Royeaux.

"I…feel the Marquis has seen the error of his ways."

Madame Vivienne gave the elf a graceful little smile before turning back to the Marquis.

"By the grace of Andraste, you have your life, my dear." Dramatically, and unnecessarily, she snapped her fingers and the frost spell broke. "Do be more careful with it."

The man was still coughing as he quickly walked out.

"I was delighted to hear you would be coming and attending this little gathering. I've so wanted to meet you."

"We were a little surprised to hear from you, given our current position," Velthorn told her truthfully.

The mage made an amused sound. "I am a woman of vision. Let me tell you about what I see." She made a gesture for him to follow. Velthorn looked to Cassandra, who only made a similar gesture that he should go with her.

Once in a rather dark and secluded hallway, Madame de Fer turned to him. She stopped by a window, which let in a gentle breeze and the light of the moon. It spotlighted her in the dark. Purposefully, Velthorn suspected.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchantress to the Imperial Court."

"Charmed, Lady Vivienne," Velthorn replied, giving the slightest of bows, "I am Velthorn Lavellan, more commonly known as the Herald of Andraste."

Vivienne smiled that same supple little smile of hers. "A pleasure."

Then she turned away, giving what was surely a well-prepared speech, "Ah, but I didn't invite you to the chateau for pleasantries. With Divine Justinia 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."

"What exactly do you mean by loyal mages? Loyal to whom?" Velthorn asked. His clan had more contact with humans than most, but that didn't mean he knew a great deal.

"Why, to the people of Thedas, of course," she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "We have not forgotten the commandment, as some have, that magic exists to serve man. I support any effort to restore such order."

"And ideally, what would order look like?" Velthorn asked her.

She looked at him steadily, brown eyes meeting his own green ones. "Without the Circles, how shall mages safety learn to master their talents? With all the in-fighting, how shall the common people keep themselves safe? And with the Veil torn, just how will the world itself be affected? There is so much chaos and I won't wait quietly for destruction.

"The Circles must be restored. The Chantry must select a new Divine. The Templars must be put back into their proper places. The Breach must be sealed. That is order restored."

Velthorn didn't agree with any of these statements, but he was here to foster a relationship with this woman. His personal feelings on the matter weren't important.

"The Inquisition will be happy to have you and your support, Lady Vivienne."

For the first time, Vivienne truly smiled. "Great things are beginning, my dear. I can promise you that."

The courtyard was quite full and Velthorn was uncomfortable. He was used to the wide-open spaces of the countryside, not crowded human cities. However, this was his life now and he would need to adjust. As they entered, he held his head high and back straight, looking to make a good impression on the people of Val Royeaux.

The crowd parted for them and they could already hear the voice of one of the naysaying Mothers addressing the congregation. Her words stopped short as she saw them approach.

"And here is the false prophet," she said solemnly, "Together, we mourn our Divine. Her naïve and beautiful heart…silenced by treachery. You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more! Behold! The so-called Herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell. He is a deceiver and he is false. The Maker would send no elf in our hour of need!"

Rather uncalled for, was Velthorn's immediate thought. He shook off the insult.

"I have never claimed to have been sent by anyone," Velthorn returned, "I don't know if I was handed out of the Fade by Andraste or not. I only want to help. I only want to speak so we can defend ourselves from an enemy that may very well still be out there!"

Cassandra put in, "It's true! The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late!"

But the Mother only looked more upset by their answers. "It is already too late! The Templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this "Inquisition", and the people will be safe once more!"

On cue, a small group of Templars, led by a grey-haired man with a stony face, approached. They marched up the wooden steps of the platform the Mother had been giving her speech from. The aforementioned woman looked smugly at the four companions as the leader of the group passed her.

Then one of the other soldiers, as he passed the woman, paused briefly to punch her.

Velthorn and one of the Templars took a quick step forward at the same time. The grey-haired man put a hand on the soldier's shoulder.

"Still yourself. She is beneath us," he said coldly.

"How dare you?!" Cassandra shouted, a sneer on her face.

"You…aren't here to deal with the Inquisition?" Velthorn asked, confused by the situation.

"As if there were any reason to," the man responded, looking down at them for the first time.

Cassandra followed him as the man came down the other side of the stand.

"Lord Seeker Lucius, it's imperative that we speak with—"

He immediately cut her off. "You will not address me."

In confusion, she asked, "Lord Seeker?"

"Creating a heretical movement? raising up a puppet as Andraste's prophet? You should be ashamed." He turned to the crowd. "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 would 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."

Highly offended by everything this man stood for, Velthorn addressed him. "If you're not here to help the Chantry, then you just came to make speeches?"

"I came to see what frightens old women so, and to laugh."

"But Lord Seeker…what if he really was sent by the Maker? What if—?" asked one of the other Templars, a young man with very dark skin and hair so short, he hardly had any. He looked perturbed by this whole affair.

He was silenced by another, the same one in leather armor who'd punched the Mother. "You are called to a higher purpose! Do not question!"

The Lord Seeker went on, "I will make the Templar order a power that stands alone against the void. We deserve recognition. Independence!"

At this proclamation, the other Templars raised a fist to their breast, even the one who had been questioning.

"You have shown me nothing, and the Inquisition? Less than nothing." He turned to the other Templars. "Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!"

With that, the soldiers departed. Cassandra watched on, completely speechless. The other companions weren't quite sure what to think of it either.

As soon as they had gone, Varric said, "Charming fellow, isn't he?"

"He's gone mad!" Cassandra said, mouth set in a deep frown.

"What do you know of him? Do you know him very well?" Velthorn asked.

"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. This is very bizarre."

That description sounded exactly not like the man they'd just encountered.

"Do you think he could be reasoned with?" Velthorn asked.

She answered, "I hope so. If not him, there are surely others in the Order who don't feel as he does. Either way, we should return to Haven."

They retrieved Solas from across the court, where he was browsing a vendor's books. They made to leave, but as they did so, an arrow came from somewhere above and buried into the ground at Velthorn's feet.

"What was that?" Cassandra asked, hand automatically going for her sword.

"An arrow," Velthorn said, "With a note."

He pulled the arrow loose and unwrapped the note. He sighed. "It seems we have a few more things to do before we leave."

After having finally found the final note from these 'Friends of Red Jenny' people, they made to leave the courtyard. They didn't make it too far before a voice stopped them in their tracks.

"If I might have a moment of your time?" came the feminine voice.

An elven woman was standing in the shadow of a building, a traveling cloak partially covering her face. Velthorn noted that there was something very sad about her. However, Cassandra's eyes narrowed, eyebrows knitting.

"Grand Enchanter Fiona?" she asked.

"Leader of the mage rebellion," Solas said, "Is it not dangerous for you to be here?"

"I heard of this gathering," she answered, "And I wanted to see the fabled Herald of Andraste with my own eyes."

"And what do you think of all you've seen here?" Velthorn asked her.

The Grand Enchanter looked at the ground for a moment before looking back into his eyes. "I have seen that your heart is in the right place, and I hope the proper actions follow that lead. If it's help with the Breach you seek, perhaps your fellow mages can lend aid."

"You were supposed to be at the Conclave," Cassandra said, accusatory, "You were the leader of the mages and you should have been there, but you weren't. Conveniently avoiding your death."

"As did the Lord Seeker, you'll note," Fiona pointed out. "Both he and I sent negotiators in our stead, in case it was a trap." She paused for a moment. "I won't pretend I'm not glad to be alive. But I lost many dear friends that day. It disgusts me to think the Templars will get away with it. I'm hoping you won't let them."

Her eyes turned to Velthorn at that last sentence.

"You think the Templars are responsible?" he asked.

"Who else could it be? I know I did not send my people, my friends, to the Conclave to die," the mage responded, "And if it wasn't the Templars, then it has to be someone else. And that thought is almost…" She couldn't find the words to finish.

"Why now?" Velthorn tried to steer the conversation away from that. There was too much pain in talking about the Conclave. Even he had lost a good friend there. She had been sent to protect him, and look where that got her. "The mages weren't willing to talk to the Inquisition before. Why now?"

"Because now I've seen what you are. And I've seen the Chantry for what it is. Consider this an invitation to Redcliffe: come meet with the mages. An alliance could help us both, after all."

"We'll think on the offer. Thank you, Grand Enchanter," Velthorn said.

She gave him a nod. "I hope to see you there. Au revoir, my Lord Herald."

"This is the place," Velthorn said, looking down at the map in his hand to make sure of himself. It was dark out, but his eyes were well adapted to such darkness.

"I wonder who this guy is. The message only said he was a 'baddie'," Varric said.

The four looked around. It seemed like any other part of the city, with the ornately carved stone and marble. The windows of the homes around them were lit, though most were at least partially covered with drapery. Some men were standing around, talking just up the stairs. One of them glanced their way.

That man did a double-take. "Is that—that's the Herald! The Inquisition's Herald!"

"Here?" another of them shouted.

A little startled, both groups drew their weapons.

The first of the men made the mistake of charging them, coming directly into Cassandra's path. She parried his weak swing and used her stronger footing to her advantage. As he stumbled slightly, sword reeling back, Cassandra struck. He fell to the ground at her feet, bleeding profusely from the fresh stab.

The second didn't even have a chance to come at them. Varric had poked him full of arrows before he even realized. He, too, fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

"I suppose that means we're in the right place," Velthorn said.

"Indeed," replied Cassandra, wiping her blade off.

Solas pointed ahead of them. "The only way forward is through those doors. We should be prepared for a trap that might lie ahead."

The rest of the group nodded in agreement.

The doors were large and red. Velthorn didn't understand why the doors had to be so large here. Surely they didn't need to be ten feet tall. They weren't even anything special. Just wooden doors with cracking blue paint.

It was a very good thing he pushed them open slowly. As soon as he did, a fireball nearly caught him in the face. He barely dodged a second one.

The man standing in the center of the small court was dressed as any of Orlesian nobility. A glittering gold mask covered half his face.

"Herald of Andraste! How much did you expend to discover me? It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably!"

"I don't actually know who you are," Velthorn responded.

The man sniffed. "You don't fool me. I'm too important for this to be an accident. My efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere."

His back was turned, but the group of four saw the woman approaching from the shadows. She had a bow ready in her hands, arrow aimed right for him.

Announcing herself, the stranger said, "Just say 'what'."

He whirled around, exclaiming, "What is th—"

He never finished that statement. An arrow lodged itself in his face, going right through his mouth and coming out the back of his skull. Because of the angle she was at, aiming down at him, the arrow severed his spine. He was dead before he hit the ground.

The woman approached, a look of disgust clear on her face. "Ehh, squishy one, but you heard me right? Just say 'what'. Rich tits always try for more than they deserve. Blah, blah, blah. Arrow in my face. So, you followed the notes well enough. Glad to see you're…aaand you're an elf. Well, hope you're not too elfy. I mean, it's all good innit? The important thing is you glow. You're the Herald thingy."

For a moment, Velthorn wasn't sure what to say. There was so much coming out of her mouth, and most of it not making much sense, that he wasn't sure how he was supposed to answer. Then he realized she'd asked a question.

"Some say that, yes. But who are you? What is all this?"

She shrugged lazily. "No idea. I don't know this idiot from manners. My people just said the Inquisition should look at him."

"Your…people?" Velthorn questioned.

"Well, you know. People people. Name's Sera. This is cover. Get 'round it. For the reinforcements. Don't worry. Someone tipped me their equipment shed. They've got no breeches." She started to giggle.

She was, unfortunately, right. The men, dressed in armor save for their bare legs and underclothes, came scrambling out of the nearby building. All were red-faced and clearly unamused by this little stunt.

"Why didn't you take their weapons?" Cassandra called, sounding frustrated.

Sera just laughed like a lunatic. "Because! No breeches!"

Velthorn didn't understand why the men would even try to fight without being properly prepared. But he shook his head and went into battle.

It was over quickly. In the end, one was full of arrows, curtesy of Sera and Varric, another was run through by Cassandra's sword, and the last two were frozen solid to the ground, thanks to the two mages.

When they relaxed, Sera bound over, still giggling like mad. "Friends really came through with that tip! No breeches!" She took a moment to catch her breath. "So, Herald of Andraste. You're a strange one. I'd like to join."

"Join? You want to join the Inquisition?" Cassandra's voice was full of disbelief.

Velthorn quieted her. "How about we get to know each other first? You know, names and such?"

"One name." Her eyebrows pulled together. "No, two. It's…well, it's like this. I sent you a note to look for hidden stuff by my friends. The Friends of Red Jenny. That me. Well, I'm one. So is a fence in Montfort and a woman in Kirkwall. There were three in Starkhaven. Brothers or something."

She looked back up at them. "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. Plus arrows."

Velthorn thought this over and glanced at Cassandra, then back at the strange elf.

Cassandra asked, "And your 'friends'? If you are offering spies, the Inquisition has its own."

"Here's how it is," she replied, making large motions with her hands as she spoke, "You important people are up here, shoving your cods around, blah, blah, I'll crush you, I'll crush you…" she rambled a little here, making kissing noises or something. Velthorn couldn't stop starring at…whatever he was seeing…no matter how much he wanted to.

She cleared her throat. "Then, you've got cloaks and spy-kings. Like this tit. Or was he one of the little knives, all serious with his…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 all knifey-shivdark, all hidden. But if you don't listen down here too, you risk your breeches. Like those guards. I stole their…" she almost giggled again, but contained herself "Look, do you need people ore not? I want to get everything back to normal. Like you."

Once more, Cassandra and Velthorn exchanged a glance, then he said, "All right, Sera. Welcome to the Inquisition."

Sera's face brightened. "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…you have merchants who that buy that pish, yeah? Got to be worth something…

"Anyway, Haven right? I'll see ya there, Herald. This will be grand!"

Then she was off, quick as a fox, running into the darkened streets. She was gone.

"Well, she was—ah, interesting," Varric said, with a rare stunned expression.

"We need all the allies we can get right now. Even if they are half-mad," Velthorn said, shrugging.

The others didn't disagree.