"Ugh, why is everything so friggin' wet?" Sera grumbled, shaking mud off her shoes for probably the dozenth time.

"Did you not know we were coming to a place called 'the Storm Coast'?" Volyn asked.

"Well yeah! But that doesn't mean everything's got to be slippery! I feel like a fish. A gross, unhappy fish."

"And from what I understand, it's always this beautiful," Varric added.

Just to make their point, thunder rumbled in the distance.

"Will you stop complaining?" Cassandra called to them from the front, "We're almost to the beach."

The ocean was immense and dotted with monolithic rocks jutting up from beneath the waves. The air smelled of salt and rain, carried on a light breeze that caused that rain to fall sideways. Seagulls flew high above them, screeching as they went.

Camped on the beach was an assorted crew comprised of several humans and elves, looking to be of all nationalities. The most obvious of the group, however, was the Qunari standing amongst them.

He towered over the humans and seemed even larger when including the horns on his head. His broad chest and shoulders, which were bare, showed that he had light grey skin. Leather boots adorned his feet and he wore wide, red trousers that cinched in down at the ankles.

Volyn had never seen such a being and found himself surprised. It had been quite a while since anything had been able to surprise him. The feeling was refreshing.

As the crew noticed them, some took up arms, but the Qunari turned and immediately raised a hand.

"Chargers! Stand down!" he bellowed.

"Iron Bull, I presume?" Velthorn said as they approached.

"Yeah, the horns usually give it away," the Qunari answered with wry smile. "Sooo…you're with the Inquisition, huh? Glad you could make it."

"Well, we couldn't miss a chance to kill something, now could we?" Velthorn asked.

Bull gave a hearty laugh. "That's the spirit!"

"Is that what we're waiting for?" Volyn asked, pointing out onto the water, where several ships could be seen.

"Yep," the Qunari answered. "Shouldn't be too long now, so I'll give ya a quick rundown. Those are Rocky and Grim. Skinner's the elf over there. Stitches is our healer. And Dalish is the one with the bow. And I assume you remember my lieutenant, Cremisius Aclassi. Call 'em Krem."

"Nice to see you again," Krem said, giving a little bow of his head.

"Likewise," the Herald said, "I'm Velthorn. These are Cassandra, Varric, Solas, Sera, and Volyn."

"So, when do we get to poke something full of holes?" Sera asked.

"Soon as those ships make land. Best spot for that is just around that corner, so we'll be in the perfect position to ambush them."

"What in blazes is wrong with your eyes?" Stitches suddenly exclaimed, staring at Volyn.

"It's a condition," the dark elf replied casually.

Stitches sneered. "That's not like any condition I've ever seen."

Volyn shrugged. His eyes swept over the rest of the group now that the attention was on him. There was determination in their faces. Loyalty. And in the face of the, what, Qunari? Suspicion. Scrutiny.

There was more to the Iron Bull than met the eye; Volyn was certain of that.

"Don't mind him," Velthorn said.

"Yes, I swear I'll be good," the vampire said with a smirk, "I just happened to be standing where a Rift opened up. Gave me amnesia and this unusual appearance."

Bull grunted in reply, knowing a lie when he heard one. The Tevinter ships were out of sight now.

"Stand ready, Chargers."

The fight that followed was brief and vicious. The four ships that came ashore were unprepared for the combined efforts of the Inquisition's best and the Bull's Chargers. Before they even knew what had hit them, three had been turned into pincushions and the rest were surprised by a bolt of lightning in their midst.

After the initial assault, the warriors charged in with magical shields provided by Solas and Velthorn. A singular mage was among the enemies. He threw a ball of fire towards the archers, who narrowly avoided becoming living torches.

Using his natural stealth, the vampire skirted around the fight and went for the mage. But the man saw Volyn coming and cast another fireball.

Mentally cursing, the dark elf crouched and leaped, vaulting over the flames. As soon as his feet hit the ground, they slid out from under him. The stones here were slick with algae and Volyn suddenly found himself on his back.

Thankfully, he had a vampire's reaction time and managed to scramble to his feet quick enough to avoid yet another fiery blast.

This would be so much easier if I could just use all of my strengths, Volyn lamented. But he pressed on, rolling behind one of the Chargers and disappearing into the fight. The mage tried to find him, but there was too much activity to keep track of him in this gloomy weather. Sand was kicked up in plumes, further muddying his view.

Suddenly, the mage was choking on a dagger embedded in his throat, blocking his airway and spilling his blood down the front of his robes. More squelched out and coated the hand holding the weapon as it was pulled free. The dagger changed direction and plunged into the mage's chest, slicing his heart into two halves.

Already forgotten, his body fell to the ground as Volyn found another target.

As it turned out, the Storm Coast was not only wet and mossy, but it was also full of mountainous hills and crevices. The terrain was hard to manage, even for Velthorn, who'd grown up in the wild, and for Volyn, who had vampiric reflexes to rely on.

Bull had joined their party after the fight and a discussion on what his joining would entail. Velthorn had agreed to the terms and Bull had sent the Chargers to meet up with Scout Harding and her team. Meanwhile, the rest of them would carry on searching for the missing, and possibly captured, scouts.

"Why did they think reasoning with the bandits was a good idea?" Varric asked.

"That is a very good question," Cassandra said, "One I'm sure will be answered."

"I just hope we don't find their corpses," Velthorn told them.

"Yeah…That would be…" he agreed.

"It would suck," Sera said.

"Eloquently put," Volyn told her.

Sera's mouth pulled down in a sharp frown. "Nobody asked you."

Volyn shrugged, a grin on his face. Sera made a noise of disgust.

After several long, wet hours, the seven of them finally reached the meeting place. As far as they could tell, it was deserted. The only things still there were the broken buildings that once belonged to someone, but now were no more than reminders on the landscape.

"Well, no sign of the scouts," Varric said.

"We should look around all the same," Solas suggested, "We might find clues as to where they, or the bandits, might have gone."

Velthorn nodded. "Sera, Cassandra, and Solas take the building on the right. We'll look at this one. Then we'll spread out and look around if we can't find anything."

As the group went closer, Volyn was hit with the scent of death. For the most part, the constant rain and the salty smell of the ocean overpowered any other smells, but it was obvious this close.

"I don't think we're going to like what we find," Volyn told them.

"Why? What do you smell?" Velthorn asked. He'd become quite comfortable with trusting Volyn's senses.

"Death," Volyn answered.

Velthorn tried the door. "It's locked."

With a grin, Bull stepped up to the front. "Allow me."

With one great kick, the door was knocked inward and off its rusted hinges. It clattered back into the structure and came to a stop, resting atop a pile of bodies.

The awful smell wafted out and assaulted their noses.

"Ugh." Velthorn tried not to breathe as they entered, but the smell stung his eyes.

"This wet weather has caused the bodies to decay faster," Volyn said, leaning down to examine them.

The bodies had been stripped of valuables, but the armor with the Inquisition's crest remained. Likely because it would be too recognizable to sell.

"Murdered," Volyn announced, noting the various stab wounds and the slit throats.

"Shit," Varric repeated.

"Well," Velthorn said, "Look around. Anything useful here?"

From the side of the room, Bull said, "Something here. A note. Addressed to the Inquisition from the Blades of Hessarian. It says the Inquisition's Herald is a false prophet and the Blades of Hessarian were doing Andraste's work by killing the scouts."

"Good," Velthorn said wryly, "More religious fanatics."

They regrouped with the others and related what they'd found.

"Hessarian's blade represents mercy, not this," Cassandra said disgustedly, "But I have heard of this group. If I'm not mistaken, they serve only those they deem worthy and there is a way to challenge their leader. Perhaps we can put the Blades of Hessarian on a better path."

Velthorn nodded. "We should report back to Scout Harding. She'll want to know what we found. Then we'll see about what to do with the Blades."

Volyn felt a pang of homesickness again as the young elf mentioned 'the Blades'. The vampire had cut ties with Delphine and the entire Blades order after they told him to kill Paarthurnax. They couldn't be convinced that there was no need and the old dragon was still very much useful to him. There was still much he needed to learn about the dragon language and about being dragonborn.

But the Blades could also still be useful and so he'd let them live. That way, if he should ever require them, they would still be there. However, if they happened to get themselves incinerated by a rogue dragon somewhere, then that was on them.

As it turned out, there was a way to challenge the Hessarian's leader. The challenger only need approach the leader wearing a pendant called the Crest of Mercy. Within a few hours after returning to camp, they had one crafted and ready to be used.

"Deciding a worthy leader by a test of strength is a faulty system at best," Bull said.

The Qunari was walking beside Velthorn as they headed down the coast. One of Leliana's birds, a highly trained and intelligent animal, lead the way to where it had seen an encampment. Volyn had taken point right behind the bird, his senses making him an obvious choice to scout the location. The rest followed, careful to watch for followers.

"I agree," Velthorn replied, "Skill is all well and good, but that doesn't make you a good leader."

Bull nodded. "Speaking of which, who is leading the Inquisition?"

"Oh. Well, Cassandra is our driving force. It's a group effort, but she's our leader in all but name."

"You sure about that? So far, you've been the one leading us," Bull pointed out.

That gave Velthorn pause. "Yes…but this isn't a big decision. Not really."

"If you say so. Just something to think about," the Qunari said.

The thought unnerved Velthorn. He wasn't sure he was ready or worthy of being a leader of anything, much less something as large and influential as the Inquisition.

When he was still only Velthorn the Keeper's First, the thought of one day leading the Clan and being responsible for their survival had been terrifying. Keeper Deshanna had tried to quell his fears, telling him that when the time came, he would become ready. He hoped the Keeper had been right.

"We've found them," Volyn said, having returned to the group.

Sera put in, "These arse-hats had better be worth it."

Velthorn, who bore the Crest of Mercy, led the way. There were several archers posted around the valley the camp was set in, but they lowered their bows at the sight of the necklace. The two standing guard at the entrance were surprised, but opened the wooden doors for them.

The encampment was basic. There were wooden shelters set up for the members of the group, stables for the few horses, and a shabby house that was presumably for the leader. That thought was confirmed as a woman in full armor exited, then a man right after her.

He stood a nearly seven feet tall, almost a whole two feet taller than Velthorn. There was a blade on his side and a two-handed war axe in a sheath on his back. Stringy brown hair hung over his face. His expression was a scowl.

"And just who are you to challenge me?" he asked. Even his voice was gruff. Everything about him screamed bad news.

Trying to swallow his nervousness, Velthorn replied, "I represent the Inquisition. I'm here to challenge you for control of the Blades of Hessarian."

The human gave a bellowing laugh. "You? You are going to challenge me?" He laughed again. "If you insist."

With that, he pulled the war axe from its holder and brought it around. Velthorn similarly removed his staff from the leather holder on his own back. The Herald's companions moved away, as it was only the one wearing the Crest who was allowed to challenge the Hessarian's leader. The elf was on his own.

The two circled each other slowly, waiting for the other to make the first move. With a quick motion, Velthorn shot a bolt of lightning at the man, which struck the end of his axe. But the handle was covered in leather and the electricity wasn't as effective as it could be. But it did give him enough cover to put a shield up.

The man lunged at him with a cry, swinging the axe around. The elf just barely managed to dodge out of its way and brought the sharp end of his staff up to strike the man in the face. The spear-like tip sliced through the man's cheek and left a long line of blood across his face.

He let out a shout of pain and came at Velthorn again, aiming low. The elf jumped back, putting him off balance, but let out a barrage spell just the same. The magical bolts arced up into the air and came back around to strike the man in the back just as he was readying another swing.

He screamed through clenched teeth as the electricity coursed through him. Velthorn used the blunted end of the staff to hit the man hard across the face, sending him stumbling to the side. The large man fell to his knees and Velthorn placed the spear tip against his neck.

"Surrender or I'll be forced to end this."

The man chuckled and raised his dark eyes up to look at Velthorn. "Then end it. I'll not surrender to the likes of you."

Velthorn hesitated and it was just long enough for the man to bypass the spearhead and bring a knife up, aiming for the young elf's ribs. Velthorn didn't have the time to react.

The knife stopped short. The former leader of the Blades of Hessarian dropped the weapon as his arms went slack, an arrow sprouting from between his eyes. The big man fell forward, dead.

"Let it be known that anyone else who challenges the Herald now, will get the same treatment," Volyn announced, lowering his bow.

Several of the assembled members looked at each other, but said nothing. Then, one of them came forward. She lowered herself to her one knee with a fist over her heart.

"We are at your service, Herald."

"You could have gotten us killed with that stunt," Cassandra accused angrily.

"But I didn't," Volyn answered. He knew she was going to argue with him, so he continued, "Besides, if I hadn't done something, our friend here would be lying with a knife between his ribs. It was a calculated risk I thought needed to be taken; as much as you thought challenging the man would be a risk worth taking."

Cassandra answered with a disgruntled huff but knew he was right. Had he not acted, Velthorn would be dead.

"You did not need to kill him. You could have wounded him," she pointed out.

"So that he could try again?" Volyn countered.

Sighing, Velthorn said, "Enough. It's done and it worked out in our favor."

"But we can't rely on luck," Solas said. He honestly wasn't siding with either one of them, as he understood the necessity of calculated risks, but also knew they couldn't count on it always working out.

"And we won't," Velthorn replied, "But it isn't worth arguing about. I knew the danger I was putting myself in and Volyn made a split-second decision. If the rest had decided to attack us, then we would have worried about it. But they didn't, so there isn't anything to fight about.

"This time, we were going in blind and didn't know the terrain. We won't take risks like this again until we have a few extra back-up plans. Agreed?"

Both Cassandra and Volyn nodded.

"Good."

Velthorn and the advisors were standing in the war room. The elf had barely gotten any sleep after returning from the Storm Coast with their newest recruits before a runner had dropped a letter off with them.

It was addressed to the Herald of Andraste from Magister Gereon Alexius.

Three days earlier, while the party had been on their way back, Dorian had shown up in Haven. Leliana had promptly questioned him on everything he knew about Alexius and his people, while the rest of Haven treated him with mistrust. But his information had helped Leliana form plans.

Now it was time to make a pivotal decision.

"It asks that he come alone," Josephine said.

"Clearly a trap," Cullen added to that.

The woman nodded. "Surely, but we cannot refuse. Such a thing would be an insult to the magister and likely a provocation for retaliation."

"Then I'll go," Velthorn told them, "I have to go."

"It would be suicide," Cullen returned, "And we can't send you in there on a mission we know will fail."

Velthorn looked down at the map, though he wasn't looking at it. He was thinking. They needed a plan. Something that could turn the tide to their advantage. But what? They needed people in that building to stop the Venetori that were surely lurking there.

"Is there any way we can get people inside the castle?" the elf asked, "Anything hidden? A sewer? A waterline?"

"No, Redcliffe castle has stood against hundreds of assaults. There's no way to get anyone in without being seen," Cullen said, the frustration clear in his voice.

"No, wait," Leliana said, "There is one way. A secret passage. It was built for the family to escape should there be the need. I can send a few people at a time through the passages."

"It's too risky," Cullen protested, "They'll be spotted. And even if they aren't, we don't know how many of these cultists are inside."

"It's worth a shot," Velthorn insisted. "I can distract Alexius long enough for Leliana's people to get through. Once they're in place, we can try to reason with him. I don't want this to come to a fight. He might try to open more time-Rifts."

Cullen heaved a great sigh. "If you think the risk is worth it, then fine. But you'll be alone in there."

"No, he won't," Cassandra said. She'd been quiet throughout the conversation, listening to the back and forth. "I'll go with him. As a bodyguard or whatever else Alexius wants to think."

"The letter said 'alone'," Josephine reminded.

"I don't care. He isn't going alone and Alexius will have to accept that. We are going for negotiations, after all, and the Herald does not travel alone," Cassandra countered.

Now it was Josephine's turn to sigh, though it was a much lesser degree. "I will write up our answer."

"And I will begin coordinating my people," Leliana said. Each of them went their separate ways.

An hour later, Leliana noticed Volyn skulking around between the buildings as she went over the plans.

"Do you need something?" she asked him, suspicious. She had heard of his incredible senses and knew he had heard every word she'd said to the assembled spies and scouts.

Striding over, Volyn told her, "I want to go in with your people. I can help."

"You help is not required," Leliana said.

"I will go in, with or without your approval," the dunmer returned, "I asked first only because it's polite."

Warning bells were going off in the Orlesian's head and she had long ago learned to trust her instincts. Volyn has his own agenda, she was sure of that, but she knew nothing of him outside of his travels with the Inquisition. As far as she knew, he had no past. So what was he looking for? Why was he still here if he could so easily leave?

"All right, but I expect you to follow my orders. This will be risky and you will not endanger the lives of my people, Cassandra, or the Herald. Understand?" Leliana said.

The corner of the vampire's mouth turned up into a half-smile. "Understood. Thank you so much, Lady Nightingale."