Skyhold was massive and needed a lot of work. But then, so did the Inquisition. The first several days were spent organizing everyone, getting a working infirmary set up, and generally getting their bearings. Once everyone had at least temporary housing, the more difficult work began.
Scaffoldings were erected by the places where the masonry was coming apart. An entire bridge needed to be rebuilt, so the framework for that was begun. Hundreds of people began to clean the castle itself, sweeping, moving rubble, and getting it in a livable state.
Dozens more began work on the garden area, where they would be pulling weeds and planting helpful herbs.
Meanwhile, the Herald and his companions talked about what would come next. They knew Corypheus would eventually realize they had survived.
Cassandra spoke of this as she and Velthorn walked.
"He's only after me because of this mark," Velthorn told her.
"Can you be so sure?" Cassandra asked, "It was your decisions that led us here. Your determination that got us through the mountains. The Elder One views you as a rival because of your actions, not because of the mark."
They were coming up the stairs now.
"We know this to be true. All of us," she continued.
Leliana stood on the landing, a sword balanced on her hands. Velthorn looked at Cassandra, then to Leliana, realization dawning on his face.
"The Inquisition requires a leader. The one who has already been leading it."
Velthorn looked out and saw dozens of faces staring up at him. Some he recognized, others were strangers. Yet they were all looking to him, waiting to see his response. He couldn't quite understand their faith in him, but he was willing to give this a good go.
He looked back at Cassandra, who was smiling at his surprise. "This is…unanimous? Me? An elf savage?"
Cassandra chuckled. "To them, being an elf only shows how far you have risen. For us, we know you better. Remember, these people are alive because of you. You were willing to give everything for them, and now they do the same."
Velthorn's gaze went to Leliana, who gave an encouraging nod of her head. With a steadying breath, he took the hilt of the sword and picked it up.
"I do this because it needs to be done," Velthorn clarified to them both.
Cassandra nodded, then moved past him to address the people below. "Have our people been told?"
From the ground, Josephine called back, "They have!"
"Commander, will they follow?"
Cullen didn't answer, instead looking to the people and asking the same question. And as he asked each subsequent question, the uproarious cries only grew louder.
"Will you follow? Will you fight? Will we triumph?"
They could hardly hear the Commander now.
"Your leader! Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!"
As he finished, Velthorn raised the sword into the air, bringing the thunderous noise to a peak. Even Josephine was caught up in the moment, startling even herself with an impassioned cheer.
Looking down on the Inquisition, Velthorn mentally promised that he would do his best to make them proud.
"You know, I didn't get this sort of reception when I saved the world," Volyn later told Velthorn as they moved crates of supplies.
"No?"
"Nope. Really, the only people who knew the world was going to end were my teachers. No titles or statues for me."
"Would you have like the fame, though?" Velthorn asked, almost sure he already knew the answer.
Volyn let out a barking laugh. "Absolutely not! I like my anonymity."
"Do the glowing eyes help with that?"
"All right, you've got me there. But I'm not the only vampire wandering Skyrim. Just the only one who saved the world."
"Which reminds me, you seem oddly healthy for someone banned from eating the Inquisition," the elf said.
They sat the crates down on a sturdy oak table, which would serve as the main headquarters for the Inquisition researchers. A few of these researchers thanked them and began to unload the books. The library was coming along nicely now.
When they were out of earshot, Volyn said, "Surely you knew that was a rule I couldn't follow."
"I know. And so long as no one is hurt, I don't mind. But others may grow suspicious," Velthorn warned.
Others such as Dorian, who had moved a plush chair up into one of the library alcoves and claimed the little room as his own. There were several piles of books on the ground, and a bottle of wine on the table beside the chair.
"Everything going well?" Velthorn asked the mage, who was bent over a book.
Dorian looked up. "As well as everything can go when one has had a mountain dropped on them."
"True enough," Velthorn said.
Before he could say anything else, Dorian continued with, "You know, it's rather brilliant. One moment you're trying to restore order in a world gone mad, and that should be enough for anyone to handle, yes?
"Then, out of nowhere, an Archdemon appears and kicks you in the head. 'What? You thought this would be easy?' 'No. I was just hoping you wouldn't crush our village like an anthill.' 'Sorry about that! Archdemons like to crush, you know. Can't be helped.'" Dorian glanced over. "Am I speaking too quickly for you?"
"Don't worry about me. I can keep up," Velthorn assured with a small smile.
"Yes, I noticed that," Dorian said. "What about you?"
"Me? I think you're starting to sound like Sera," Volyn told him. He could, of course, keep up, but where was the fun in answering plainly?
"Maker, the madness is contagious," the mage said, feigning despair. He sighed. "I always assumed the Elder One was a Venatori magister, but this is…this is something else completely." He seemed very upset suddenly. "In Tevinter, they say the Chantry's tales of Magisters starting the Blight are just that: tales. But here we are. One of those very magisters. A darkspawn."
"We know what Corypheus claims to be," Velthorn insisted.
"But if he is one of the magisters who entered the Black City and he's darkspawn…what other explanation is there?"
"Anything is possible," Volyn put in, "I traveled across worlds to get here, after all."
"True," Dorian said, but that dejected look was still on his face, "I knew what I was taught couldn't be the whole truth, but I assumed there had to be a kernel of it. Somewhere. But no. It was us all along. We destroyed the world."
"Last I checked, the Blights hadn't actually destroyed the world," Velthorn pointed out.
"Not for lack of trying…"
It had been nearly half a month and things were progressing well. The outer walls had been repaired and the broken bridge had been replaced. Most people were out of their tents and had proper quarters. Everything was coming along perfectly, with no sign of The Elder One.
On his way to see Blackwall, who had taken up residence in the stables of all places, Velthorn heard an argument going on and went to investigate.
"This thing is not a stray puppy you can make into a pet. It has no business being here," Vivienne was saying.
"You would say the same of an apostate," Solas countered.
"Or a Tevinter mage," Dorian put in.
Vivienne pursed her lips in annoyance. "It is a demon and should be destroyed."
"He is a spirit," Solas corrected.
"I agree," Dorian added, "Well, I know he's not a demon, at least."
Cassandra, standing to the side with her arms crossed over her chest, saw him approach and greeted him.
"Inquisitor. I had wondered if Cole was perhaps a mage, given his unusual abilities. I seem to have sparked an argument."
Solas explained, "He can cause people to forget him, or fail entirely to notice him. These are not the abilities of a mage. It appears that Cole is a spirit."
"It is a demon, and you are a fool if you think otherwise," Vivienne stated bluntly.
Forcing himself not to sigh, Solas replied, "If you prefer. Although, the truth is somewhat more complex."
Velthorn said, "Whatever he is, Cole came to warn us at Haven. He's been helping the healers. He's saved a lot of lives."
"And what will its help cost? How many lives will this demon later claim?" Vivienne argued.
"His nature is not so easily defined," Solas said.
"Speak plainly Solas. What are we dealing with?" Cassandra asked.
"Demons normally enter this world by possessing something. In their true form, they look bizarre. Monstrous."
Cassandra seemed as though she was going to ask another question, so Dorian added, "We've already confirmed this isn't possession. Not to mention, if his body were a corpse, it would be decaying. It isn't."
Solas continued, "From what I can tell, Cole has lived here, in this world, for months, perhaps even years. Somehow, he manifested in human form without the need for possession. He is unique and more than that, he wishes to help. I suggest you allow him to do so."
"That would be a mistake, but clearly you all are willing to risk a demon in our ranks." Even in just walking away, she some managed to look irritated.
"I'll talk to him," Velthorn said, glancing around. He spotted the spirit over by the infirmary, which wasn't an unusual place to find him. The three others bade him good-bye.
Velthorn went to stand beside Cole, watching him observe the sick and hurt. His expression was tragic to Velthorn, this constant look of contemplation and pain on his features. Such a look seemed strange on the young man's face.
"Cole?" Velthorn asked, trying to prompt him to say something.
Blue eyes looked at him. "Choking fear. Can't think from the medicine but cuts wrack me with every heartbeat." He paused a moment, eyes looking far away. "Hot white pain. Everything burns. I can't, I can't…I'm going to…I'm dying, I'm—dead."
Instantly, Velthorn understood. "Does it hurt you? To feel their suffering?"
"Yes," Cole said, "But it helps."
His attention turned to one of the soldiers lying prone on a bedroll. Her face was coated in a sheen of sweat and her eyes were cloudy with pain.
"Cracked brown pain. Dry. Scraping. Thirsty."
Cole brought the water to her, gently tipping it into her mouth and making sure she didn't choke on it. The thanks he got was a whisper and then he withdrew.
"She won't remember me," Cole told Velthorn.
"This is why you came to this world, isn't it? To help people?"
"Yes," he answered, "I used to think I was a ghost. I didn't know. I made mistakes, but I made friends too. Then a Templar proved I wasn't real. I lost my friends. I lost everything." He was quiet and Velthorn waited for him to continue.
"I learned how to be more like what I am. It made me different, but stronger. I can feel more. I can help."
"Yes, you can," Velthorn replied, "So stay with us, because we want to same thing. We have a long road ahead, but I think we can do a lot of good along the way."
"Yes, helping…I help the hurt, the helpless, there's someone…"
And off he went on his endless pursuit. Velthorn left him to it.
"So, ah, can we talk for a moment?" Varric asked. He was standing beside the bench Velthorn had seated himself on, needing a quick break, and seemed almost…uncomfortable? It was very out of character for Varric to seem nervous about anything.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, per say," the dwarf said, "I just…I think I know someone who can help with this whole 'Elder One' thing. But it would probably be for the best if you didn't meet anywhere…public."
"All right…" Velthorn replied, suddenly suspicious, though he couldn't guess what Varric might be up to.
He and Varric were on friendly terms, playing Wicked Grace during periods of quiet and trading friendly banter. Velthorn trusted him with his life, which was good considering how often they fought together. Yet in all their months of traveling together and getting to know one another, Velthorn had never seen him act this way.
"Meet me over by the west tower on the battlements tonight, just after sundown." He went to leave, but turned around for one last statement. "And, uh…don't tell Cassandra."