Only one day to recuperate in Haven – might as well make the best of it.

It surprised even her, but she willingly went to Corporal Hargrave first thing in the morning to get polearms lessons out of the way. The talk in the Chantry wasn't anything she cared to listen to; Knight-Captain Denam was being interrogated, and all anyone seemed to think about was the mysterious Elder One. It was this Elder One who had corrupted the templars, and it was he who threatened to destroy the Seekers. He might as well be aiming to bring the sky down, Ahnnie thought. Upon mentioning the sky, she thought of the Breach – I don't suppose he has something to do with it too? That didn't seem unlikely, given the other conspiracies discovered in the Seeker headquarters.

She stumbled a while later into the Singing Maiden, determined not to let this invisible Elder One ruin her day. It was still daytime, despite the cloud covered sky outside, so there were no patrons yet in the tavern. Ahnnie doubted there would be any today; the snowstorm was over, but there was no knowing if it would pick up again. Netta was the first person to notice her, as she was playing in the empty dining area with three yipping furballs.

"You've returned!" the little girl cheered, racing for Ahnnie. But a puppy swerved in her direction, causing her to trip.

Ahnnie gasped and jumped forward to catch the child in her arms. "Be careful!" she chided as she raised Netta to her feet. "If you run, they run too." As if on cue, a tiny puppy the size of a chihuahua started chewing on her boot, yanking wildly at the leather.

Netta found it amusing and scooped the puppy into her arms. "Look!" she exclaimed. "This is Charley! Say hello to the Herald of Andraste, Charley!"

Charley did so by panting and sticking out his tongue. Ahnnie laughed and scratched the puppy behind the ears, delighting in the cottony texture of his baby fur. He was a dusty brown color with a spot of white on his left ear; she noticed he might grow to have pointed ears later, as the right one was sticking straight up while the left was folded halfway. Before she could get a closer look, Charley turned his head to give her fingers a playful nibble, which alternately tickled and stung from his sharp teeth.

"And then this is Maiden, and that's Pepper!"

Netta let Charley down to point out his littermates. Maiden was a sleek female pup with dark brown fur, so dark it was almost black, and dainty white sock markings on her feet; Pepper, a thickset male with wild straw-colored fur interspersed with a timber undercoat. It was almost hilarious how different each pup was from the other. Ahnnie could see how their facial structure and eyes might resemble their mother, but their motley coloring and Pepper's long, floppy ears whereas Maiden and Charley had pointed ones made them seem like different dogs altogether.

Unable to resist, Ahnnie bent down and beckoned to them with kissy noises and wiggling fingers. "C'mere, babies! D'aww, who's a good boy? Who's a good girl? You guys are!"

In the blink of an eye, all three ran over to her, catching her fingers in their mouths and jumping into her lap to bite the fur edge of her coat. She let out a shriek and tumbled backwards, closing her eyes as the puppies fell along and started licking her face. Charley then yanked on her hair while Pepper stuck his nose through it to sniff her ear; every little action made her laugh harder, and she squealed with delight as she caught hold of Maiden, hugging the squirming pup close as she turned onto her side.

It's been way too long since I've last done this! She then swore to spend as much time as possible with them when she next returned to Haven. They won't be this small for long, and I'm not sure Flissa wants Lady giving them younger siblings.

Netta laughed and joined in, tickling Ahnnie's open side with her childish fingers. The pups then diverted their attention to her, and Maiden was finally able to kick free to join her brothers. It gave Ahnnie the opening she needed to sit up and wheeze out the last of her mirth.

"Netta, what's all the noise about?" Ahnnie half-expected Flissa to emerge from the stairway, but it was Nala instead. "Oh, your ladyship–"

"Yes, I'm back," Ahnnie smiled, rising breathlessly to her feet. "But only for a day; I have to travel out to the Storm Coast first thing in the morning."

"Aww," Netta pouted, a puppy tugging on her shawl. "But you were away for so long! You missed First Day!"

She gave her an apologetic smile. "I know. Inquisition business, though. I'll be back soon, and hopefully for longer. And who knows – if a blizzard makes the roads impassable, I might not have to go so soon." That would be nice. Oh Maker, or whoever you are, please make a blizzard to delay the trip, at least for another day...Then, noticing the bowl in Nala's hands, she asked, "Tending to patients up there?"

The elven girl trotted down the steps and jumped merrily off the last one. "A few guests have employed Master Adan's services. Mostly winter illnesses; colds, fevers, agues." She shrugged. "Nothing serious."

Netta stopped pouting to giggle slyly. "But last week, she panicked over a handsome soldier with a head cold–"

Nala spluttered and blushed, almost dropping the bowl in her consternation. "N-Netta!"

Ahnnie raised her eyebrows. "Ooh, Netta, do tell!"

Nala whirled from Netta to Ahnnie in a frenzied turn. "O-oh, your ladyship, 'twas nothing! Really! Pay no attention to Netta – she's merely jesting!"

The both of them laughed at Nala's expense. But deciding to be merciful, Ahnnie stopped sooner than Netta did. "Okay," she breathed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, "I was just playing with you. Still, what's this about a handsome soldier? Did you catch someone's eye, Nala?"

"Of course not, your ladyship!" the elf protested. "I am very plain, as you can see."

Some of the fun died away at this self-deprecation, so Ahnnie rephrased the question. "Did someone catch your eye?"

Nala's cheeks bloomed redder. "I believe Netta is referring to the soldier from the Storm Coast. He arrived in town some time ago."

"Last week," Netta reminded her, much to her distress.

Ahnnie blinked, remembering what Leliana said. "Is his name Cremisius Aclassi, by any chance?"

"That'd be me."

All three girls turned their heads in unison to find a brawny young man coming down the stairs. Whoa, Ahnnie thought. He is handsome. Cremisius possessed a firm-jawed oval face and dark hooded eyes, set against a complexion of ruddy olive skin – if this weren't Thedas, he could have been an athletic male model. She could tell why Nala might panic over him; she herself felt her cheeks warm when he turned his gaze over to her. Something seemed off with his voice, though, kind of like it was still going through puberty and hadn't yet dropped in tone. Ahnnie dismissed it, figuring it was just an individual quality. Or is he really that young? He doesn't look like it...

Netta giggled. "It's him!"

"Netta!" Nala cried, turning her head aside when Cremisius looked at her.

The corner of his mouth turned up in an amused smirk before he finally reached the bottom of the steps. Almost immediately, the puppies swarmed over his feet, excited by the presence of another person in the room. He gave out a hearty laugh before telling Netta to get Flissa for a beer. "Nothing better than sitting before a fire with a good mug on a cold winter's day," he said, watching the little girl run into the kitchen.

At that, Nala jolted. "Would you like for me to stoke the fire? It's gotten rather low."

"Please," he nodded.

The elven girl put the bowl on the table and jumped to it, jabbing at the logs with the fireplace poker in an attempt to raise the flames. While she was thus occupied, Ahnnie found herself uncomfortably alone with Cremisius. All of a sudden, she was conscious of everything she did, even the littlest twitch of her fingers. When the silence became unbearable, she made an attempt at a casual remark: "Those puppies...are real cute, huh?"

"Ha, yeah," he agreed, giving them a cursory look. Then his eyes were back on her. "So, you're the Herald?"

"That's right," Netta answered for her, skipping back into the dining area while a serving girl handed the young man his beer.

"Care for a drink?" Cremisius then asked, settling into a chair by the fireplace.

"Oh..." Ahnnie looked at the door, then at Cremisius. "I'd love to, but I've got to get ready for tomorrow. 'Cause I'm leaving for the Storm Coast...tomorrow."

"I'm sure you could spare some time. I'm going too, you know."

Ahnnie put a hand to her forehand, laughing nervously. "Right! How could I forget? So silly of me."

In the end, she was convinced to sit for a spell, though she didn't drink. Nala was called up by Master Adan, leaving them more or less alone; Netta still played with the puppies behind them, her squeals and their yips sounding out occasionally in the background.

"I'm Ahnnie, by the way," Ahnnie began. "I'd prefer if you could call me that instead of 'Herald'."

"Fair enough," Cremisius nodded.

She gave him a moment of silence to enjoy his beer, staring awhile into the flames. When he said nothing, however, she got a little fidgety and turned away from the fireplace. "So, uh," she began, "you're from the Bull's Chargers mercenary company? Did I say it right?"

"Yup."

"Cool. I mean, great. What're they like?"

Cremisius took another swig and let out a sigh of satisfaction after he swallowed. "We're loyal, we're tough, and we don't break contracts," he said. "I guarantee we're the best you'll find. Ask around Val Royeaux; we've got references."

She chuckled. "Well, I would have done that, if we were still there. But of course, Leliana might, 'cause it's not too late to...ask for references. I mean, we're still going to the Storm Coast anyway, so..." God, I'm so lame! Pull yourself together, girl! "Ahem, yeah. What about your commander? What's he like?"

"Iron Bull? He's one of those Qunari. You know – the big guys with the horns?"

"I know about them," she nodded.

"He leads from the front, he pays well, and he's a lot smarter than the last bastard I worked for." Cremisius grinned. "Best of all, he's professional. We accept contracts with whoever makes the first real offer; you're the first time he's gone out of his way to pick a side."

Ahnnie tilted her head, intrigued. "Really? Why would he do that?"

"Iron Bull wants to work for the Inquisition," the young man explained. "He thinks you're doing good work."

So did Madame Vivienne, when she asked to join. And Sera, too. It then occurred to her, though it really should have much sooner, that people were starting to believe in the Inquisition. How many more will ask to join with us? she wondered, thinking about their most recent allies and the request from the mages in Redcliffe. Very soon, the Inquisition might no longer be the little foundling organization it originally was. That's going to take some getting used to. And to think it all started with an angry Seeker in the Chantry's council room...

Was it just her, or was she getting a little sentimental?

"Well then, the Inquisition can't wait to meet him," Ahnnie replied at length, smiling.

They set off from Haven in the small hours of the morning: Cassandra, Ahnnie, Solas, Varric, Sera, and Blackwall, with Cremisius Aclassi.

The more Ahnnie learned about the Iron Bull, the more she looked forward to meeting with his company. She had never seen a Qunari before – from what little she knew, she imagined them to be big, minotaur-like people, with a bull's head and hooves. What little illustrations that were available from books in the Chantry library didn't do them justice in her opinion, and there was that nagging suspicion that the illustrators weren't aiming for accuracy. It felt awkward to ask such specific questions about Iron Bull's appearance, however, and she didn't want to come across as offensive, so she opted to leave Cremisius alone in that respect and wait until she actually saw the Qunari commander for herself.

Instead, she inquired more about Iron Bull as a person. In addition to what Cremisius told her in the tavern, Iron Bull was not only fair but daring, humorous, and a natural charismatic leader. His people liked him and were loyal for more than just the pay. He actually listened to them, rather than flaunting his status as commander. And he treated them like family, braving danger for their sakes and looking after them as if they were his own. In fact, he lost his left eye saving Cremisius' life.

"In case you didn't know, I'm from Tevinter. I was soporati – not a slave or a mage, just a regular citizen. Even citizens have it rough if they're not mages, though. I was a soldier, but women join the ranks under a different program. When they found out I was passing, it got ugly. I ran, hid out in a border town tavern...then a tribune and his men found me out. They meant to make an example of me. The guards had me on the floor when Bull came inside and yelled for them to stop. One of them saw trouble coming and figured he'd finish me off. The guard had a flail; Bull put himself between me and the blow. Gave up his eye doing that. Big horned idiot...didn't even know me." Cremisius shook his head. "Then he patched me up and asked if I was looking for work. I've been putting up with his jokes ever since; not a life I'd wish on everyone, but it'll do."

The story was a touching one, and Ahnnie was in more awe of this Qunari commander than she had been previously. It was not an easy thing to give up an eye for a stranger, after all. It was also from there that Ahnnie discovered why Cremisius' voice seemed off to her. "They don't make it easy for women in the Tevinter army?"

"Women are allowed to serve, but only in certain ranks and disciplines," he explained. "I was up for promotion, but the healer I'd bribed to sign off my physical had to tend a sick magister. When the replacement healer saw what was, or wasn't, in my pants, he made threats. It was slavery or death, so I knocked him out and ran."

She nodded, eyes thoughtful. "If you don't mind my asking...why did you decide to live as a man? You're not in the army anymore, and..."

Cremisius' voice hardened. "I didn't decide anything. I've been like this my whole life. My parents wanted me to marry up; they tried to find me a nice merchant's son. Every day I'd put on a dress, look into my father's shaving mirror and just...hate myself."

Hearing the pain in his voice, Ahnnie was immediately regretful. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like I was...being presumptuous. It must have been difficult with your family thinking a certain way, against your wishes."

"You can say that again," Cremisius agreed with a dry laugh. "My mother wanted to throw me out. She said if I didn't marry well, I was dooming the family to slavery. She was happy to take the money I sent as a soldier, though. Not that it mattered in the end. My father..." His eyes softened. "When I was little, he'd angle his mirror down so I could pretend to shave, just like him. He never said anything, but I think he knew."

Then she learned of how Cremisius' father, once a tailor, was driven out of business when a magister's slaves mass produced peasant clothing and sold them for next to nothing. Having no way to compete with such low prices, he was forced to sell himself into slavery. "He's one of the servus publicus, the Imperium-owned slaves, now."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she murmured, suddenly thinking of her own father. "I hope you get to meet him again, someday."

The young man shrugged. "It's been a while, so not very likely. Don't even know if he's still alive." Noticing the sorrow in her eyes, he asked, "Does it matter to you that much?"

Ahnnie let out a sigh, watching it vaporize in the snowy air until it faded into nothing. "I just think that, well, with family you can still identify with...those who really care..." She shrugged. "They should be kept close. And I wish everyone could have that chance."

"Huh, yeah...hachoo!"

"Are you all right?"

Cremisius held a finger to the bottom of his nose and sniffed. "I'm fine. It's just the cold."

Winter on the Storm Coast was rainy and soggy. Then again, as Varric told her, the Storm Coast had always been rainy and soggy; hence its name.

"The air is nice," Sera chirped from her saddle, drawing incredulous stares from some of the others. "What?" she asked. "It is."

"You're weird," Ahnnie teased with a mock shake of her head. "It's miserable out here." The only thing of interest was that there were old Dwarven ruins dotting the coast. According to both Solas and Varric, anyway. She'd yet to see one. Do those pillar things sticking out of the ground count as ruins? Or are they just regular rock formations?

"I've got a friend who's a ship captain," Varric remarked. "She would love this place."

"Yeah, see that?" Sera said, pointing at Varric. "I'm not the only one."

"Okay, okay," Ahnnie conceded. "But just saying. You're the last person I'd think who would compliment all this..." She shook some water off of her hood. "...rain." She grimaced. "You're right, Varric; there's nothing worse than being wet and cold on horseback. I mean, I'm not drenched, but...ugh."

The dwarf simply chuckled in return. She was glad to see him happy, though; ever since he learned about what happened in the Seeker headquarters, he'd been very grim, particularly when it came to red lyrium. Knight-Captain Denam's interrogation hadn't gone all that great, no thanks to his deepening red lyrium withdrawal. That only served to exacerbate Varric's convictions, and it was with a heavy heart that he had disclosed to her how red lyrium drove his brother to madness. "Like I said, don't ever touch it. The stuff's pure evil. And with the templars on it..." He shook his head.

They turned up a bend in the path that took them up a hill. Within a few minutes, their horses trotted up to a camp situated on a level yet pebbly ground. Inquisition forces welcomed them, and a familiar female dwarf came forward to address Ahnnie. "Herald! For what it's worth, welcome to the Storm Coast."

Ahnnie dismounted from her Forder. "Nice to see you again, Harding," she greeted back. "Can't say I like the Storm Coast, though." The others around her dismounted as well to take shelter from the rain, and Ahnnie followed Harding beneath a tarp canopy as a soldier led the horses away.

"I would have sent word sooner, but our efforts have been...delayed," Harding said, slicking back a strand of rain dampened hair from her forehead.

"How so?" Ahnnie asked.

"There's a group of bandits operating in the area," the dwarven scout explained. "They know the terrain, and our small party has had trouble going up against them. Some of our soldiers went to speak with their leader. Haven't heard back, though."

That didn't sound good. Without the soldiers, they wouldn't be able to leave for Redcliffe with the force as planned. "I'll tell Cassandra about it," she said. "I'm sure she'll want us to do what we can to find our people." Maybe if things go well with the Bull's Chargers, they can help us out.

"Thank you," Harding smiled. "That's a relief."

She told the Seeker as promised while the others were warming up under similar canopies, beneath which burned small yet bright fires. Cassandra nodded knowingly and answered just as Ahnnie wanted her to. "We must help our soldiers; these bandits sound troublesome."

"Harding said they didn't know where the bandits were, exactly, but were searching farther down the beach." As she continued to speak, her eyes turned to Cremisius. "I was thinking the Bull's Chargers could help us with that. They've been in the Storm Coast awhile, and probably know the place better than we do. Plus, they'll give us more people to fight with."

Cremisius grinned back at her, pleased by this suggestion.

Cassandra blinked and stared at her for a few moments. "That is very strategic of you. You are...getting better at this."

Ahnnie shrugged and struggled to suppress the warmth spreading on her cheeks. Was this a bit of praise from the Seeker? It wasn't as if she couldn't think of something like that...then again, it was probably the first time she didn't simply ask Cassandra for the next course of action. "Thanks, I guess."

"Let me know when we head out," Cremisius then said, his eyes bright. "Can't wait to meet up with the chief again, and to start cracking some bandit skulls. It's been far too long."

"The Waking Sea," Varric murmured. "Somewhere across all that water is Kirkwall."

Sera shielded her eyes as she peered out over the crashing waves. "Can't even see the other shore. That's...far." She sniffed. "I smell seaweed. How do I know seaweed?"

"Maybe 'cause it smells salty and...weedy."

"Ha! Good one," Sera laughed, clapping Ahnnie on the back.

She cringed from the force of Sera's hand and gave the elf a half-stinted smile. Walking in the rain wasn't any better, she soon discovered. The air was cold and wet, and the salt smell of the sea even more pungent than it seemed on a normal day. In short...I hate rain.

"This is where the Bull's Chargers are?" Blackwall asked Cremisius, looking out over the gray landscape.

"Don't sweat it," the young man assured him. "Even if they've moved camp, they'll have left a sign to let me know. Us Chargers are resourceful."

"Hmm." Cassandra looked about them. "I can't imagine this an ideal place to camp, not unless you were part of a landing party."

"Tevinter mercenaries," Cremisius grinned. "We wanted to surprise them."

Mercenaries versus mercenaries, Ahnnie thought, idly. Who would win?

The question would be answered when they came up to an outcropping of rock on the beach. Beyond it echoed the sounds of fighting; Cremisius unsheathed his sword when he saw who the combatants were. "All right! They found the bloody Vints! Ha, and there's the chief, if I ever saw him!"

Ahnnie peered over the rock to try to see where Cremisius was pointing. She saw a big pair of horns, wide and prong-shaped like a giant angus cow's, swinging above the press of strangely dressed people (the 'Vints', I think), but a wagonful of barrels blocked the rest of him from view. "So, then–" But when she turned around to address Cremisius, the Charger had already disappeared. Sera fell into his place a moment later, an arrow aimed down on a Tevinter mercenary.

"Slowpokes don't cut it," the elf told her as she loosed the arrow. It struck the mercenary clean through the thigh, bringing him down to his knees.

Ahnnie grinned. "Right." She withdrew the glaive from her back and slid forward on the rock, landing with a pebbly flourish onto the graveled ground below. Before the mercenary could attempt to recompose himself, she dealt him a swinging blow on the back of his head with the blunt edge of her glaive's blade. I think that's strong enough to keep him out for a bit, she thought, watching him fall limply on his face. And it'll help dull the pain for him temporarily. Sera's arrow went in pretty deep, after all.

She ducked behind the wagon of barrels a moment later when an enemy arrow landed on the ground by her feet. With a careful look out, she saw the archer aiming from behind the cover of a fallen white tree near the water, watching the wagon for any sign of movement. When he found none, he turned his attention to new targets. She took that chance to dash out, heading for the nearest point of cover. An icy missile flew past her back, freezing a Tevinter swordsman mid-swing and leaving him open for the more plainly dressed Chargers to hack him down.

"Watch out!" Ahnnie cried, pushing Varric aside. The arrow missed him by a long shot anyway, but it brought the hidden archer into focus.

"Thanks," the dwarf nodded at her. "We should do something about him," he then pointed out after firing a shot at another mercenary.

"You take him on the front while I go around back?" she asked, noting the open path round the fallen tree.

Varric grinned. "Just what I was thinking. Cassandra's right; you are getting better at this stuff."

She tried to ignore his almost sarcastic tone as she headed around the tree's trunk. If there was anything she learned from past combat experience, it was that there was no time for nervous dilly-dallying. Decisions had to be made on the spot, and they had to have strategic merit; both for her own personal survival, and the success of her team. I seem to have the most luck with archers, she thought dryly, remembering the ones in the Hinterlands.

The dwarven rogue jumped atop the overturned hull of a boat the archer was kneeling on, shooting out with an arrow from Bianca. The stunned man loosed the bigger arrow nocked in his bow, sending it in a wild ricochet against the branches of the white tree as he turned. The arrow zipped past Ahnnie's face, slicing into her cheek with a horizontal gash as she came up from the boat's other side.

She shut her eyes upon feeling the arrow's impact, but shook it off as best as she could. While Varric kept the man occupied with well-timed kicks and punches, Ahnnie shot in from behind with an angry slice from her glaive followed by a whirling stab from the bladed end. The archer dropped the dagger he had been ready to strike out with, and Ahnnie pulled him back so Varric could send a final arrow through his chest before the both of them knocked the dead body into the shoreline below.

"Shit, you all right?" he asked when he saw the blood dripping from her face. Ahnnie just shook her head as she bent down amongst the white branches to peer at the battle beyond. It seemed to have already turned in the Charger's favor even before their arrival, but Cassandra and Blackwall were making good progress against some mercenary swordsmen while Solas' ice magic bought them an advantage, as always. Interestingly enough, there was also magic shooting out at the Tevinters from a different angle, meaning the Chargers had a mage on their side. Don't these Tevinters have mages too? she wondered as she scanned their ranks. Oh well – all the better for the Inquisition and Chargers.

"Well, I'm going to keep aim from up here," Varric said. "Keep 'em confused about who's on whose side."

"Good idea," she breathed, and slid down from the boat to sneak back into the fray.

She crept up behind a mercenary on Cassandra's side, slicing through his whitish-grey uniform with a swipe to his flank. He whirled around met her glaive with his blade, parrying and stabbing in a series of movements that were different from what she was used to seeing. She kept up as best as she could, all the while wondering whether the Tevinter's motions were an example of foreign swordplay. It was formal, disciplined, and well-measured...and it was not so interesting anymore when it threatened to break through her defense, forcing her feet back on the pebbly beach.

But before she could assume the worst, a giant hammer crashed into the mercenary's body, sending him through the air like a weightless rag doll. She gaped in shock at the flying man, watching him spin out into the shoreline, then up at the large shadow cast over her.

With one powerful swipe, the hulking gray giant before her dashed the remaining line of mercenaries aside with his great battlehammer. When a few more mercenaries got brave and tried to charge him, he lowered his head and rammed into them with his horns, throwing them aside with a wild toss like an agitated bull in the rodeo. Seeing the Tevinters now pushed into a pitiful state, he held up his arm and let out an echoing bellow: "Chargers, stand down!"

Though not immediately, the Chargers slowed their attacks until, like clockwork, the last of them stopped and regrouped towards the giant. There were not many enemies left for them anyway, beyond the wounded and the fleeing. If the Inquisition hadn't arrived, they would have taken care of the mercenaries in due time; they were more numerous than the Inquisition's smaller party, outnumbering them by perhaps two to one. But they tolerated the Inquisition's presence nonetheless, sending curious glances at the new party.

"Krem, how'd we do?" the gray giant barked, looking out across the beach towards an exhilarated Cremisius.

"Five or six wounded, chief," the young man barked back. "No dead."

The giant chuckled, a deep and throaty sound. "That's what I like to hear. Let the throatcutters finish up, then break out the casks." When he turned back around to look down at Ahnnie, he found the girl's stare frozen on him, as though she'd been struck by one of Solas' ice bolts. "Hey." He waved a big hand in front of her face. "You in there?"

Ahnnie shut her open mouth and put a hand to her cheek. "Uh, I'm sorry," she stammered a moment later, "I just..."

He chuckled good-naturedly, and then noticed the green on her hand. "Well, if it isn't the Herald herself. Glad you could make it." With a jarring clap to the back, he steered her towards the Chargers. "Come on, have a seat; drinks are coming."

The Iron Bull was beyond her imagination. If she thought dwarves and elves were strange when she first saw them, the Qunari sitting before her was a completely different story.

Even when sitting, he towered over everybody, putting his overall height at around seven or eight feet. He had no bull's head or hooves, but was a massive rendition of the human body with great, sloping shoulders and a gigantic torso twice the size of the biggest bodybuilder's. He exposed plenty of it, wearing nothing but a large pair of baggy pants fixed above his waist and what looked like a shoulder strap with a leather chest harness. His face seemed the most normal part of his body, sporting angular, Arabic features and a stubbly beard on the elegantly pointed chin. Of course, she couldn't forget the eye patch – Cremisius' story came back to mind as soon as she laid eyes on it.

But it was the horns that fascinated her most. Dark and bony, they jutted emphatically from the skin at his forehead, altering the upper part of his skull to an upside-down triangle shape. How they didn't weigh him down was a mystery; if she held out her arms and bent them upwards, then the horns would be around the length of her upper arms, but with a much bulkier width. The rest of his head looked small in comparison; perhaps that was why his neck and shoulders were so large, and in turn, the rest of his body.

All in all, Ahnnie couldn't believe she was staring at a real living being. Part of her tried to explain it away as some intricate trick of costumes and makeup, for how could anyone be so big? And horned? But whenever she looked at him again, saw the rain-slicked skin patterned with scars, veins, and muscles, too detailed to be crafted, she knew it was no trick. It was real – he was real.

"I assume you know Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant," said the Qunari as Cremisius came forward with a handkerchief for her.

Ahnnie took it gratefully and put it up to her wound.

"Good to see you again, chief," Cremisius nodded at Iron Bull. "Throatcutters are done."

"Already? Have 'em check again. I don't want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem," he chuckled.

"None taken. Least a bastard knows who his mother was. Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?" Cremisius asked as he turned and walked away.

Iron Bull chuckled again and shook his head. "Ah, that kid..." Then he returned his attention to her. "So...you've seen us fight. We're expensive, but we're worth it...and I'm sure the Inquisition can afford us."

"Oh, I'm not sure I can speak for all the, uh, Inquisition," she stammered, heart practically stopping at the word 'expensive'. "It's not my money to...well, dispense..."

"It wouldn't cost you anything personally, unless you wanna buy drinks later," he put in. "Your ambassador – what's her name – Josephine? We'd go through her and get the payments set up."

"Okay..."

"The gold will take care of itself," he assured her. "Don't worry about that. All that matters is we're worth it."

I hope Cassandra and Josephine think so. Not that I don't, but...expensive...she hated that word. Well, they are mercenaries. They have to make a living too. Hopefully, they won't be any of those purse-bleeders Josephine talked about.

"The Bull's Chargers seem like an excellent company," she said at length, and meant it.

"They are," Iron Bull agreed. "But you're not just getting the boys. You're getting me. You need a frontline bodyguard, I'm your man. Whatever it is – demons, dragons? The bigger the better." Then he paused. "There's one other thing; might be useful, might piss you off."

Ahnnie wondered what it was. If anyone's getting pissed off though, it's most likely Cassandra.

He made her even more curious when he gestured for her to rise and follow him to a more secluded spot down the beach. "Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?" he asked once they were well out of earshot.

She frowned, thinking. "No, I haven't."

"It's a Qunari order," he explained. "They handle information, loyalty, security; all of it. Spies, basically. Or, well, we're spies."

Ahnnie blinked. "Huh?"

"The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach," Iron Bull went on. "Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I've been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what's happening. But I also get reports from Ben Hassrath agents all over Orlais," he quickly added. "You sign me on, I'll share them with your people."

She felt as though he had bashed a pair of cymbals over her head. "You're a spy, and you're telling me all this?" she asked incredulously, mixed feelings swirling in her stomach. What would Cassandra think? Or Leliana? And I suggested for the Chargers to help us...She squeezed the handkerchief now down at her side. Dear god, what have I done–

But Iron Bull met her skeptical eyes with a determined look. "Whatever happened at that Conclave thing, it's bad. Someone needs to get that Breach closed. So whatever I am, I'm on your side."

"You...you still could have kept that part to yourself," she pointed out, frowning. "So why...?"

He raised an eyebrow. "From something called the Inquisition? Heh. I'd've been tipped sooner or later. Better you hear it right up front from me."

True. But she was still apprehensive. What did he stand to gain from being so open? Their trust, surely, and if they trusted him too much..."I hope you don't mind if I ask some more questions," she said at length.

"No, go on," he nodded.

"What would you send in your reports to the Ben-Hassrath?"

To his credit, his answers were forthcoming and flowed easily. "Enough to keep my superiors happy. Nothing that'll compromise your operations," he promised. "The Qunari want to know if they need to launch an invasion to stop the whole damn world from falling apart. You let me send word of what you're doing, it'll put some minds at ease. That's good for everyone."

Oh, yay. A Qunari invasion. Led by more horned giants like him, all over Thedas. That's reassuring! "What about the reports you'd give us?"

"Enemy movements, suspicious activity, intriguing gossip..." He shrugged his great shoulders. "It's a bit of everything. Alone, they're not much, but if your spymaster is worth a damn, she'll put 'em up to good use."

"Oh, you know Leliana?"

Iron Bull chuckled. "I did a little research. Plus, I've always had a weakness for redheads."

I guess if he knows Josephine, then he knows Leliana...She frowned, thinking over what he said. His being a spy for a totally different organization didn't seem appetizing, but his promise of reports from that same organization did. Then there were the Inquisition soldiers they wanted to rescue from the bandits; it wasn't as if they were desperate for reinforcements, but the Chargers might prove to be an invaluable addition. "I have to discuss this with Cassandra," she said. "I'll be right back."

It was with nervous anticipation that Ahnnie walked back down the beach to meet with the Seeker. Part of her wished she could stop playing charades and just let Cassandra talk to the Qunari already, but Iron Bull had been adamant that it be the Herald he spoke with. Something about dealing with the marked one herself; perhaps he wanted to know what she was like, or wanted to gain as much of an advantage as possible against a greenhorn. Regardless of what it was, his mention of the Ben-Hassrath left a sour taste in her mouth.

After much deliberation, Cassandra finally reached a decision. When Ahnnie returned to the Iron Bull, it was to say this: "You run your reports past Leliana before sending them, and you send nothing she doesn't approve. If this turns out to be a trick, or if your reports compromise the Inquisition, you will have to answer to Seeker Cassandra." Basically, Cassandra's threatening words rendered to mush in her not-so-threatening voice.

The Iron Bull cracked a smile, surprising her yet again. "Wouldn't have it any other way." With a look back at the others on the beach, he shouted, "Krem, tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired!"

"What about the casks, chief?" Krem shouted back. "We just opened them up. With axes!"

"Find some way to seal them," he ordered. "You're Tevinter, right? Try blood magic."

"Very funny, chief!"

"Our camp is not too far away," Ahnnie put in. "You could bring the casks back there. I don't know if Cremisius told you yet, but we'll need your help pretty soon against some bandits in the area."

"Even better," Iron Bull grinned, and clapped her on the back again.

"Ow!"

"Sorry."

A/N: To Guest on Dec. 26 – I'm glad you like the fic, but I'd just like to point out that whether someone stays depressed or moves on from a traumatic event is largely up to their individual mentality. Psychology is a very tricky subject and some people might not feel comfortable being sad all the time, while others can't help but feel sad, or some combination of both. As to fictional character development, it is true that it gets annoying when an author over emphasizes depression for pity mongering. Then again, it wouldn't be right for a character to forget all about their pain in the blink of an eye. So I totally get what you mean, but basically, it boils down to what the author intends and how it is implemented when the character feels a certain way. Just my two cents.