Progress marked their second week away from Haven. After settling themselves at the camp above the Crossroads, the quartet set to work doing what they could to aid the relief effort; hunting and foraging the surrounding countryside for extra food and healing herbs, joining in patrol rounds to watch for troubling activity, and constantly consulting with Scout Harding for the latest news in the Hinterlands.
The charity work was therapeutic to Ahnnie in particular. She visited the wounded soldiers and assisted the healers whenever she had the time. With every visit she felt as though she could atone for killing the enemy archer, even though he treated her like trash and would not have hesitated to kill her. There wasn't a moment when his mangled, charred face was absent from her mind...even when she was occupied with other things, he was still at the back of her thoughts, haunting her with his pitiful howls.
Other times she played with the children and helped their parents or guardians look after them while they were busy. When she was not doing either of these, she was out with the others doing either of the three aforementioned activities, though added to that list was the hunting of Fade rifts. Wherever there was rumored to be a rift, Cassandra would rally them all in a reconnaissance mission to confirm its existence before rushing in to put it out. Sometimes they came upon these rifts by chance, having barely any warning besides Ahnnie's vibrating hand before they were blade-to-claw with demons. These sorties occasionally took them far from their main camp and the result were smaller satellite camps that slowly accumulated in the area.
The rewards were few, but very promising: Inquisition forces, under the direction of Corporal Vale, managed to clear the East Roads of bandits and flush out some rogue Templars to the west. The people Cassandra sent to Dennet made headway with the horsemaster and were involved with setting up watchtowers in the area that would help the local farmers spy trouble before it could strike, and thanks to the gradual disappearance of the rifts, wolf activity was beginning to subside.
But one day, Cassandra called them all together for a mission that was slightly different from their regular activities. As they were busy saddling their mounts, she gave them a brief rundown of the upcoming task that piqued Ahnnie's interest greatly:
"Leliana sent word that one of her agents reported a man in Grey Warden regalia traveling the Hinterlands. I have just had it confirmed with a farmer named Giles that he goes by the name of Blackwall, and is conscripting farmers in an operation against bandits to the southwest of us. Apparently, he also helped the villagers repel demons when the Breach opened."
Ahnnie was unnerved to learn that demons had been present beyond the Frostbacks at the onset of the Breach, but a more pressing question was on her mind. "Why is this important?"
"Many Grey Wardens went missing after the Divine's death," Cassandra explained. "This one should be found, and questioned."
"How have you been faring, da'len?"
Ahnnie turned her head to find that Solas had allowed his Forder to fall behind Cassandra and Varric, stepping into pace with her. "I'm fine," she answered with a smile. "What does that word mean, though? Dah-len?"
"It is Elvish for 'little one', or 'little child'," he explained.
"Ah," Ahnnie nodded in comprehension. So it's like how Vietnamese uses 'con' for kids. "What should I call you, then?" Did the Elvish have pronouns for age and relation gradients, such as the Vietnamese anh for males of brother-age, chú for males of uncle-age, and bác for those of grandparent-age, and so on? And if it did, would it be mandatory to call him by that, or was just 'you' fine? These questions reminded her of why she delighted in learning about cultures in the first place.
"You would call me 'hahren', which means elder," Solas supplied.
"I see...so is there just 'hahren' for elder, or are there different pronouns for different relations? And would you be expected to use them frequently?"
"A good question," Solas agreed. "Hahren is, indeed, the only word for elder. Elvish does have words for relations such as 'father' and 'mother', and you would be more or less expected to use them. I should point out, however, that hahren is more commonly used to address elders in general beyond relatives, such as within a Dalish clan or the leader of a city alienage."
Ahnnie frowned. "If that's the case...I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm sure you know more about this than I do, but...you don't look that old." She scrutinized his features carefully. "I would say you don't look a day over thirty-five. Forty at most, and that's pushing it." Had you been Vietnamese, I would call you 'chú'.
She waited a while for his response, but he only gave her a cryptic smile in return.
Ahnnie couldn't help but grin as she shook her head. "Okay, fine, don't tell me your age...I'll just call you hahren for the sake of wisdom. But, you know, being old is nothing to be ashamed of. If you ever want to confess..."
"My, you are persistent," Solas chuckled. She laughed as well and he waited for her to stop before asking, "Tell me, though; ever since what happened at the Crossroads with that man...have you noticed anything different in your mana?"
Ahnnie's smile immediately vanished. Her hands clenched a little harder at the reins, the left one in particular. "Not really," she mumbled, her eyes turning from the elf to focus on the trees.
"Are you sure?"
She bit down on her lower lip. "I'm sure," she said a moment later.
Solas sighed. "I understand how traumatizing it must have been. It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable, but it seems as though you have the capability to use your mark for purposes other than closing rifts. I can help you to understand it, perhaps even control it–"
"No," she blurted out. "I don't want to. If it's not to close a rift, I never, ever, want to use magic, again."
Solas blinked. "I see," he nodded. "Very well, then. I shan't force the matter on you."
Ahnnie closed her eyes in a brief grimace before finally summoning the courage to look at Solas again. Was it just her, or did he seem a little hurt? "I'm sorry," she apologized in a softer tone. "I didn't mean to...I'm just scared..."
"It's all right, da'len," he assured her with an encouraging smile. "I understand."
"Are you sure we're going in the right direction, Seeker? This place seems more than a little deserted."
"I know what I'm doing, Varric," Cassandra said, and continued pressing down the road.
"Hey, just saying," Varric protested. "We passed by this place to get to the Crossroads, and there was nothing there."
"Well, it's possible that it's just rumor," Ahnnie put in, "but why would a farmer lie to a Seeker? They're called the Seekers of Truth, right?"
The dwarf turned to look at the human girl and bellowed out a hearty laugh. "Listen to her, she's getting better at jokes already!"
Ahnnie blushed. "I'm only repeating what I heard."
"Hey, don't sweat it," Varric assured her when his laughter subsided. "The Seekers are famous for getting at the truth, more specifically as a check on Templar power. So you're right, mostly, but a farmer..." He lapsed into another fit of chuckling.
"I would not laugh if I were you, Varric Tethras," Cassandra retorted. "You never know what I may find out about you, if I were so inclined."
It took them a while to realize that Cassandra was being sarcastic; her tone was so serious, it sounded at first like a real threat. Then it was Ahnnie's turn to laugh as Varric held up his hands in defeat, his face expressing mock surrender.
"Fun fact: didya know the first Seekers were members of the original Inquisition?" Varric said a while later.
"Oh! No, I didn't," Ahnnie confessed. "That's interesting." She turned to Cassandra to see if the Seeker herself would divulge in any facts, but when she didn't, she turned back to Varric. "So it has something to do with the forming of the Circle and the Templar Order, right? Since you said the Seekers put a check on Templar power."
"You got it," Varric nodded. "But the Inquisition was even before that. The Seekers and Templars both came from them. In fact, the Inquisition was even before the Chantry. They formed some time after the First Blight to fight against what they called the 'tyranny of magic'. And then the Chantry convinced them with the Nevarran Accord to join under a banner of faith, which created the Circle of Magi, Templar Order, and the Seekers as you know them today."
"Wow. That's amazing," she remarked.
"I don't think the mages would agree," Varric joked, "but that's the history of the Inquisition for you."
It certainly gave some flesh and bones to the organization that, to Ahnnie, seemed a fledgling operation born on the whim of a dead Divine. Only vaguely was she aware of any 'original' Inquisition. Now that she knew some of the backstory, its purpose made more sense. It also felt motivating to know she was part of something that had existed long ago, that had a history predating the current institutions of present-day Thedas.
Then she frowned. "He's telling the truth, right?" she asked Cassandra warily.
Even Solas burst into laughter at this question. Cassandra's face was not visible, but there was a hint of a smirk as she replied, "For once, he is."
They took a veer to the west that brought them upon the shores of a small lake a quarter of an hour later. An island was visible on the waters in front of them, and the bubbling gurgle of a waterfall sounded somewhere beyond the island. When they arrived, Cassandra pulled them all to a stop so she could better survey the lay of the land.
"This would make a good place to camp," Solas commented as he studied the smooth, even ground before the lake. He had an eye for campsites, and founded a good handful of the satellite camps they had established.
"I will keep that in mind," Cassandra nodded. "For now..." She trailed off, her eyes squinting at something in the distance. "Do those look like docks to you?"
The Seeker was pointing at a series of jutting brown structures that appeared to break the surface of the lake, on the banks to the far right. They were very small, at least from this distance, so nothing for certain could be said of them. Whatever they were, it grew evident that they could not be reached by walking along the right bank; to that side the land ended in a steep slope, so steep it seemed as though the lake was situated atop a cliff. The only viable path was around the left, hugging close to a greater rock wall that ran around the perimeter of the lake.
The route having been decided, they urged their mounts in that direction. The path became so narrow that they had to go single file, and at one point they had to ford a little neck in the lake directly below the falls, but once they reached the other side they could comfortably traverse with some room to spare between them. As they approached their destination, the brown structures Cassandra spotted could clearly be identified as docks, and not too far ahead was the rectangular shape of a manmade structure.
"Hold," Cassandra urged, and dismounted. Following her lead, the others tied their mounts to nearby trees and proceeded on foot. Ahnnie soon knew why; the Seeker did not wish to alarm the small group of people gathered by the docks. She did not unsheathe her weapon, though, so perhaps the situation wasn't a hostile one.
"...make this a fight, not us," the robust voice of a man clad in dark armor carried over to them. He was addressing three well-built youths, dressed in the simple brown cloth that Ahnnie recognized as farmer's attire. Armed with wooden shields and simple axes, the youths gazed intently upon the armored man as he spoke, devouring in attentive silence every word as if their lives depended on it.
"Remember how to carry your shields!" the man continued. "You're not hiding, you're holding. Otherwise, it's useless!"
Ahnnie looked up at Cassandra, who returned her glance with a nod. "That looks like our man," she said. Gesturing for the girl to come forward with her, she strode confidently up to the group. "Warden Blackwall?" she called out, not even waiting for the men to register their arrival.
The armored man whirled around. He had an aquiline face framed by a dark, rugged beard, and his eyes burned fiercely. "You're not – how do you know my name?" he demanded. He stormed over to them and Ahnnie felt herself leaning back instinctively as he came close. "Who sent – ah!"
He was interrupted by the flight of an arrow, and in reflex raised his shield to block it. Ahnnie gave a start, for had he not been so fast, she would have had her brains speared through. Beside her, Cassandra unsheathed her sword as two armed men rushed into the clearing.
"Bandits," Blackwall spat. He glared at Ahnnie and Cassandra. "That's it; help or get out. We're dealing with these idiots first!" He lowered his shield and waved the farmers forward with an impatient gesture. "Conscripts! Here they come!"
The youths rallied around him, albeit with some hesitance, and charged to meet the bandit threat.
Ahnnie immediately withdrew the glaive from her back, though she felt reluctant to enter combat against other people so soon. She had not done so since they first reclaimed the Crossroads. With luck, she wouldn't have to do much. There wasn't many of them; only three, the archer and the two bravados.
Then three more rushed into the clearing, proving her wrong.
Well, there's four of us, and four of those guys, she thought, counting the Warden and his youths. Those bandits are outnumbered six to eight.
Solas bought them an advantage with magic. It was clear the bandits had not expected it, screaming frightfully at the first sign of ice enclosing around their limbs. That made most of them fairly easy targets for Cassandra, the Warden, and Varric; the three farmer youths followed suit when they saw how the odds were turned in their favor. Ahnnie lingered directly behind them, the combat so close to her face and yet not within her reach. She found herself preferring it that way, up until one of the youths opened up his flank and a bandit made ready to cleave his weapon into it.
With a quick jab, Ahnnie buried the bladed end of her glaive into the bandit's side. He yelped and fell back, alerting his former target, who whirled around and ended his life with a sharp chop to the neck.
The youth gave her a grateful smile before going off to help one of his comrades; Ahnnie felt a little more encouraged than before and went after him, deciding she could provide some assistance without directly killing anyone.
"Watch your head!"
Ahnnie ducked as the same youth she helped out held a shield over her, stopping an arrow in its flight. "Thanks!" she chirped, and straightened up to discern the path of the arrow's trajectory. Behind that tree, she thought. If we don't get rid of that archer soon, he's going to be problematic. She looked around, and then spotted Solas. Waving to catch his attention, she pointed to the tree and pantomimed the act of loosing an arrow.
The elf nodded and launched a magical attack in that direction. Satisfied, Ahnnie turned back to the matter at hand and helped the youth corner a lone bandit, backing him against another stand of trees close to the lake. With the threat of a glaive to his right and an axe to his left, the exhausted bandit threw down his arms and dashed past the gap between his two attackers. Unfortunately, he ran right into Blackwall and received a sword to the belly for his rudeness. Without so much as a blink, the bearded Warden shoved the dead bandit off his blade, watching as the corpse rolled into the high grass.
Of the six bandits that attacked them, only two survived and ran off into the wilderness. Thus ended their fight, just as quickly as it had begun. Ahnnie felt breathless with the exhalation of victory. The farmer youth beside her seemed just as ecstatic, and Ahnnie could only guess that his joy was all the greater for having been able to take on a bandit where previously he could not have even speared someone with a pitchfork. She knew the feeling. It was empowering.
"Good job," she nodded to him.
"You as well," he nodded back, and brushed the sweat from his flustered cheeks.
A thunk in the ground brought her attention back to the Warden. Blackwall had pinned his sword into the earth as he strode towards his last kill. He knelt beside the corpse awhile, his great back turned to them. "Sorry bastards," he muttered a little later, and spat into the grass before making his way back. He stopped before his blade, where it was stuck ominously into the dirt.
"Good work, conscripts," he congratulated the youths. "Even if this shouldn't have happened, they could've...well, thieves are made, not born." He pointed a gloved hand to the north. "Take back what they stole. Go back to your families. You saved yourselves."
The youths looked amongst themselves before setting off in that direction; the one alongside Ahnnie gave her a charming smile before he left, which she returned rather shyly. Only once they were gone did the group feel free to approach Blackwall. He watched them with wary eyes, noting their faces in turn. "You're no farmers," he said at last. "Why do you know my name? Who are you?"
"We know your name because we are agents of the Inquisition," Cassandra supplied. "We are here investigating whether the disappearance of the Wardens has anything to do with the death of the Divine."
Ahnnie widened her eyes at Cassandra in shock. She hadn't expected the Seeker to be so direct.
"Maker's balls," the Warden cursed. "The Wardens and the Divine? That can't – no, you're asking, so you don't really know." He shook his head. "First off, I didn't know they disappeared. But we do that, right? No more Blight, job done, Wardens are the first thing forgotten. But one thing I'll tell you: no Wardens killed the Divine. Our purpose isn't political."
"I was not accusing the Wardens," Cassandra corrected him. "Yet. I simply need more information. We have only found you; where are the rest?"
Blackwall shrugged. "I haven't seen any Wardens for months. I travel alone, recruiting. Not much interest because the Archdemon is a decade dead, and no need to conscript because there's no Blight coming."
Ahnnie frowned. "But then..." She pointed confusedly in the direction the farmer youths had gone.
"Treaties give Wardens the right to take what we need, who we need," he explained to her. "These idiots forced this fight, so I 'conscripted' their victims. They had to do what I said, so I told them to stand. Next time they won't need me."
"I see," Ahnnie nodded. "So, you have the power to conscript even when it's not a Blight?"
"It's complicated; if there's a Blight, everyone has to help the effort to fight it. The treaties are ancient. Outside of Blights, it's only as binding as a clever tongue can make it."
"Interesting," Ahnnie remarked.
Blackwall looked at her and chuckled. "I suppose it is. Grey Wardens can inspire, make you better than you think you are – that's what helps."
"Do you have any clues as to where the other Wardens could have gone?" Cassandra then asked, taking back the reins on the questioning.
But he couldn't answer this question any better than the other one. "Maybe they returned to our stronghold at Weisshaupt? I don't really know. Can't imagine why they'd all disappear at once, let alone where they'd disappear to."
"Why have you not gone missing like the rest of them?"
"Well, maybe I was going to, or maybe there's a new directive but a runner got lost or something. My job was to recruit on my own. Planned to stay that way for months. Years."
So many 'maybes', but no definite answer. Even Cassandra was at the end of her rope, and ended the interrogation when she could see no forthcoming developments. "It has been a pleasure, Warden Blackwall, but this was of no help. I bid you a good day. Come," she said to Ahnnie, and the girl followed as the Seeker turned away, but she couldn't help staring back at the Warden behind them.
So, that's it? she wondered. We're done here? He's done? Somehow, it didn't feel right.
His eyes met hers, and he frowned. "Inquisition...agents, did you say? Hold a moment." When they paused, Blackwall rushed up to them, his face urgent. "The Divine is dead and the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we're absent is almost as bad as thinking we're involved."
"Go on," Cassandra prompted.
"If you're looking to put things right, maybe you need a Warden," Blackwall continued. "Maybe you need me."
The Seeker looked up him and down. "What can one Grey Warden do for the Inquisition?" she asked him skeptically.
"Save the fucking world, if pressed." He paused to let that sink in, then sighed. "Look, maybe fighting demons from the sky isn't something I'm practiced at, but show me someone who is. And like I said, there are treaties. Maybe this isn't a Blight, but it's bloody well a disaster. Some will honor them. Being a Warden means something to a lot of people."
Cassandra nodded and looked down at Ahnnie. "What do you think, Herald of Andraste?"
Ahnnie blinked. "M-me?" Her face reddened when Blackwall regarded her with a newfound curiosity. "Uh...why're you asking me?" And now, of all times? "You know more about this than I do..."
Varric clapped her on the back. "You're the one who can stop the Breach, if that makes it any clearer. Y'know, you ought to take charge once in a while. You're not just here for decoration."
"She?" Blackwall pointed at her, and Ahnnie gave a facepalm.
"Yeah, I know, I know," the girl laughed, and showed him her left hand. "Let's not go into detail, please." That having been established, she looked up at Cassandra for guidance. She was not about to make a decision that went against the Seeker's pleasure.
"I do not object," Cassandra told her. "A Warden ally would be advantageous."
"Okay then," Ahnnie nodded. "Since my approval was so necessary"–she aimed a glance at Cassandra and Varric–"you're in. Welcome to the Inquisition, Blackwall."
It was as if a wall of ice had been broken between them. Though his face betrayed no joy, the tone of his voice was warm and pleased. "Good to hear," the Warden mused. "We both need to know what's going on, and perhaps I've been keeping to myself for too long." He reached a hand for his blade and lifted it clean out of the dirt. Brushing it slightly, he slapped it back into its scabbard. "This Warden walks with the Inquisition," he declared.
"Hope you don't mind doing some actual walking, then," Varric said, and jerked a thumb down at the path. "We've got horses over there, but you seem a little too heavy to share one – no offense – and it's a long way back to camp."
"None taken," Blackwall assured him. "I've got a mount round back. I'll be just a few."
They went ahead and mounted their steeds while he fetched his. When he returned, Blackwall was sitting astride a tall, broad-shouldered charger almost as dark as the armor he wore. His essentials were all tucked in the saddlebags, so there had been no time wasted on any picking or packing. When they returned to the Crossroads camp that afternoon, they all came back one ally richer.
A/N: And so ends Book I. Stay tuned for Book II: Whispers of the Just (which will still be posted in the same fic). Ciao!