The Hinterlands welcomed the Inquisition once again after almost two weeks of drudging winter travel. The icy downpour of the Storm Coast evolved into chilling sleet and eventually, droves of snowflakes, but all that seemed much more bearable to the Herald than rain.

She left the accursed coast feeling a newfound sense of camaraderie with the Chargers, alongside a hint of mourning for the Inquisition soldiers they had lost; on the eve of the journey, funeral pyres burned through the night as a last service to the Hessarians' victims. The rain was luckily not too much of a problem, but the smoke and crackling of the fire haunted her even after the five to six hours it took to finish, and that was not mentioning the smell.

"Why don't we send them home to their families for proper funerals?" she had asked of Harding right before the pyres were to be lit; stacks of dried wood from both Inquisition and Hessarian stores were being sent in as they spoke. "Why burn them here?"

"That's a service we unfortunately can't perform right now," the dwarf had answered remorsefully. "A pyre here is more efficient, gets the bodies off our hands immediately without leaving them to rot on our old campsite. Not to mention their families aren't all from Haven, and we can't spare the men to travel all that way with just corpses. I don't think you'd fancy traveling alongside dead people on the way to Redcliffe either, would you, Lady Herald?"

Ahnnie's face blanched. "I guess not."

An awkward silence settled between them, which Harding sought to alleviate by giving her a sympathetic smile. "It's not always easy, choosing efficiency over ideals. But in this kind of situation, you just gotta do what works. Eventually you just get used to it." After some thought, she added, "We do our best to remember who they are, though, and inform their families afterward."

"It's the thought that counts, I suppose."

Ahnnie couldn't remember what else had been exchanged between her and the dwarf scout, but the burning happened shortly after and she only remembered trying her best to ignore it.

There was plenty to keep her occupied on the road to Redcliffe, though. While some Chargers were dispatched to keep a position on the Storm Coast, the group she drank with plus some others were able to come along, including of course their famous commander.

And his mount of choice? A nuggalope.

A thick, grey beast that looked like a mix between a trunkless elephant and rhinoceros, the nuggalope sported massive curled horns on either side of its head and what appeared to be balled-up hands for front feet. By horse standards, it must at least have been eighteen hands high and was just the perfect thickness to take on the Iron Bull's bulk. As an amusing afterthought, its leathery hide was also the same hue of grey as its rider.

"Want to know what the chief calls it?" Krem asked her after she'd been gawking at the creature for some time.

She snapped out of her reverie to look at him. "What?"

"Oh, you'd never guess: 'Nuggy'." The Tevinter rolled his eyes. "Very original."

"I heard that!" Iron Bull barked in retaliation, making them both laugh.

It certainly drew a lot of attention from the other Inquisition members who had never seen an nuggalope before. Then again, they probably never thought they would see a Qunari sitting astride one. Sera certainly had a lot of fun blowing raspberries and making comments at "the overstuffed pig with horns" as they went along the road, especially after it was given a blanket covering and special boots to protect from the cold.

"Are nuggalopes what Qunari use to ride, kind of like how humans, dwarves, and elves use horses and ponies?" Ahnnie ventured to ask one day.

Iron Bull chuckled. "If you're gonna make another pig joke–"

"Don't worry, that's just Sera," Ahnnie reassured him, smiling.

"Well, the answer's yes and no," he then replied. "We can use draft horses just fine. I could've done that, but I found this nuggalope for a good bargain at a bazaar. So whatever carries us best, I guess. We're generally not a calvary intensive race, though. Don't know if you've heard the stories, but we do a lot of invasion by sea; Dreadnought warships ring any bells? Oh, and gaatlok, the famous Qunari blackpowder Rocky always fails to make." He rolled his eyes and shook his head mischievously.

"I've only heard that the Qunari come from Seheron and Par Vollen," Ahnnie recalled. "And I think I read about some invasions in a few books at Haven's Chantry." She tilted her head curiously. "Any chance you could tell me more about the Qunari yourself?"

"Why, you writing a book?" he asked, thick with sarcasm.

She couldn't help but laugh. "Well, maybe one day! Who knows? But I thought I could hear it from an actual Qunari. Someone with firsthand experience."

He gave an amused snort. "All right. What do you want to know?"

Ahnnie pursed her lips in thought. "How about leadership? How do the Qunari govern themselves?"

Iron Bull settled back into his saddle, preparing to lose himself to the faraway reaches of the Qunari homelands. "It's pretty simple," he began. "We've got the matriarchy, the priesthood, and the military. The priesthood figures out how Qunari should live, in theory. The matriarchy makes it work in practice, and the military keeps the Qunari safe from outside threats."

"That's interesting," Ahnnie remarked. "Is there a lot of infighting, though?"

"Not like you're thinking of," he corrected her. "People disagree, yeah, but the priests are there to solve disagreements. For example, in Orlais, politicking comes from people putting their own gain ahead of the gains of society. If you do that among the Qunari, the Ben-Hassrath set you straight. Or kill you."

Yikes. "So Qunari society is like a socialist society? That is, a society focused more on the good of the whole than the individual."

"You could say that," Iron Bull nodded, "and it goes even farther. Under the Qun, there is no private property or currency. I say I bought this nuggalope at a bazaar, but under the Qun, I would not have obtained it that way, and even then I might not have it at all if it seems I don't need it. The closest thing we've got to merchants are suppliers who make sure the goods are distributed properly. We'll actively work at improving production through research and borrowing from other cultures, but the demands of individuals are quite limited."

That definitely sounded like socialism, and then some. "If that's the case..." Ahnnie looked confusedly up at him. "Do the Qunari have marriages? Since romance between two people would seem like an individual thing...or a union for financial purposes," she added upon remembering that love wasn't always the basis of marriages in Thedas.

The Iron Bull laughed. "Yeah, that's true. Qunari have no financial needs, and we love our friends like anyone else, but we don't have sex with them."

Ahnnie's cheeks turned a bright red. "Well, um, humans don't do that with just 'friends', either. I-it's more like a different sort of relationship, more, uh, close and–"

"You'd have to understand; to the Qunari, that's what it seems like." His face was smug, as if he enjoyed watching her squirm.

"S-so," she stuttered, "I guess that means the Qunari...procreate differently?"

"Oh, definitely. There are Tamassrans who pop your cork whenever you need it."

"Tamas...?"

"They're a part of the priesthood who control the selective breeding, raise all the children, and assign them their future roles. And of course..."

"Erm, yeah," Ahnnie coughed. "I believe you just mentioned that." Her cheeks, in the meantime, were growing warmer; her mind, spinning. Selective breeding? And children raised by the people who select the breeding? So there's not even the concept of family in Qunari culture? That's very...mechanic. What a different sort of culture these horned giants lived in.

"It's not a big deal like it is here," Iron Bull put in. "It's like...I don't know, going to see a healer? Sometimes it's this long involved thing..."

She fought the urge to facepalm. Oh my god, is he still talking about 'that'? I hope no one else is listening...

"...takes all day, leaves you walking funny...Other times, you're in and out in five minutes. 'Thank you, see you next week!'" he pretended to call out with a suggestive click, soft enough to keep within bounds of their conversation but loud enough to make her look around frantically for any eavesdroppers.

It took Ahnnie quite some time before she was composed enough to speak again. "That's very...um, different," she eventually ground out.

"Yep." He was clearly enjoying her reaction to the topic. "Still, it's more fun here. Fewer rituals, more...making it up as you go along. Plus, you folk have redheads." He gave a low, throaty chuckle. "Ah, redheads..."

"Eh heh, yeah..." Another silence befell them as, again, Ahnnie couldn't seem to find the right words to respond with. Just what can I say to 'redheads', of all things!? It was an interesting conversation, though, and she had so many more questions about the Qunari. One way or another, she was going to have them answered. She just had to let the awkwardness subside first. When she found it sufficiently so: "You talk a lot about this thing called 'the Qun'...what is it, exactly?"

All the pleasure seemed to drain away from the Iron Bull's face as he heaved a misty sigh and looked at her with a sort of fatigue. "You sure you're not writing a book? 'Cause your questions sound an awful lot like you are..."

She shrugged. "Like I said, maybe one day. Right now, I'm just curious."

He shook his head. "Hoo boy. That's one hell of a curiosity you've got there." He then flexed his shoulders, as if the task of explaining the Qun would entail physical exertion on his part. And maybe, in a way, it would. "Well first thing you'll probably hear about the Qun is that it's a religion, but..."

"Hey, big guy."

Iron Bull looked up, then about.

"Yeah, you...who else would I be talking to?"

And then he looked down. "Ah, you're that dwarf," he remarked upon finding the person who had addressed him. "What's your name...Varric?"

"The very same," Varric nodded. "You know, I met the Arishok."

The Iron Bull raised a curious eyebrow. "Oh, the old one? Man, he had an impressive rack. The new Arishok doesn't have horns at all. Usually means they're destined for something special."

"I met him too," Varric affirmed. "The only thing they seem to have in common is a tendency to burn things."

"That pretty much sums up the antaam, yes."

Varric watched him tend to his nuggalope awhile, observing how he pat down the creature to remove snow from its blanket's crevices. "So, you're Ben-Hassrath, eh? The spies of the Qunari."

"Oh, you've heard of us?" There was a slight hint of sarcasm, for if someone claimed to have met the Arishok, then surely they must know what the Ben-Hassrath were.

"I spent some time in Kirkwall," the dwarf explained. "You're not the first Ben-Hassrath I've run across. Hawke and I were on a caper with one named Tallis."

"You don't say."

"She caused us no end of trouble. You wouldn't know her, by any chance?"

"Hey, one time I ran across this dwarf on the road. Short, grouchy. You think you may know him?" He turned towards Varric, barely concealing any of the joke on his face.

Varric grinned back. "I'm on the Merchant's Guild. Ten royals says not only I know him – he owes me money."

"Oh. Well...no. I don't know Tallis. Sorry."

Varric chuckled. "Nah, I was just curious. But lookit you, Mr. Big, Burly, and Loud...how could you possibly be a spy?"

Iron Bull gave the shorter man an amused glance from the corner of his eye. "Well, it's a pretty easy job," he began. "I do some fighting and drinking, and then once in a while I tell Par Vollen about it."

The dwarf laid out his palms in a questioning gesture. "Where's the sneaking, plotting, the subtle machinations?"

"If you do that, everyone knows you're a spy," the qunari rebutted. "Drinking, fighting, writing notes; that's all it really takes."

Varric shook his head and chuckled. "Shit. You're really the worst qunari ever, or the best. I can't decide."

Iron Bull kept his grin concealed as he turned his back to the dwarf to give the nuggalope one last emphatic pat on the withers. "Got any more questions under your belt?" he then called out. "I can take 'em. In fact I've been answering so many questions lately, my jaw's practically oiled loose. From gender roles to recipes and architecture...you name it, I got it!"

Varric turned in amusement at the road ahead of them, where Cassandra, Ahnnie, and the others had gone ahead while he, the Chargers, and some Inquisition members made up a rear guard. "Oh, you've seen nothing. I heard from Solas – you know, the bald elf mage? The one with the funny looking staff? – that the day after she recovered, she–" The dwarf narrowed his eyes, squinting at an incoming object rushing down the path, accompanied by urgent hoofbeats. "Well, if it isn't the Inquisitor herself. Get it? 'Inquisitor'? Because questions?"

"Yeah, I get you," Iron Bull nodded, although his attention was now fully arrested upon the galloping Forder coming their way.

"What's the rush, kiddo?" Varric hollered at Ahnnie as she came within shouting distance.

The girl quickly checked her horse and barely fought to keep it still as it pranced about, still exhilarated by the rush of their ride. Her face, they noted, was pale. "We got to Redcliffe," she spluttered, "and there's a rift – I know, I should be there, but – Cassandra shouted for someone to get back here, to tell you, and no one seemed like they could, and–"

"Whoa, slow down," Iron Bull coaxed her, coming closer to her antsy mount with a comforting hand on its snout. With his free hand, he gestured at the Chargers. "Mount up, boys; we're going in. You can explain on the way," he nodded at her.

"I'm going back right now," Ahnnie shouted as she backed up her horse and turned it back around. "But here's the thing about this rift. It's...different. You'll see when you get there!" With a slap to the Forder's buttock, she was off again, racing down the path as though the very rift demons were on her tail.

"Shit," Varric cursed as he quickly jumped on his pony. "Wonder what she means by 'different'."

Ahnnie reined in her horse at the safest yet closest possible distance to Redcliffe's main gate. Before its stone walls pulsed an angry, electric green rift, crowned atop a miasma of confused fighting. Without a second thought, she jumped off her horse and half-stumbled half-ran to a flustered Cassandra. When she came within speaking distance, the woman grabbed her arm and spun her about like a naughty child.

"Where were you?" came the sharp reproach.

She could only point behind her in response at the galloping forms of the rest of their party raising dust on the road.

"What's this, Seeker?" Varric asked after he swung off his pony, one of the first to arrive. "You don't look so happy."

"Of course I don't, Varric," she spat. "This thing explodes in our faces the moment we get close, and as if demons weren't the least of our concerns, it baffles us with its strange...magic!"

One look at the scattered corpses and horseflesh testified to the first part of her account. But before anyone could say anything, Solas suddenly appeared at their side as if conjured from thin air.

He blinked a moment and then looked at the incoming Chargers behind Ahnnie. "Well, at least it was forward this time," he muttered casually, though his face was streaked with dirt and some blood.

"All right, what's all this hocus pocus about?" Varric demanded, no longer joking. "Whaddyou mean by 'forward this time'?"

Solas pointed towards the disjointed battlefield, where men were fighting demons and strangely colored circles lit the ground beneath their feet. "There are temporal distortions appearing on the ground that either take you back a few seconds in time, or a few seconds forward." Almost at once, the people within the circles blinked out of existence. Some came back a few seconds later, others took a longer time and repeated their former actions before blinking away again.

Varric's brows furrowed deeper. "Oh, shit! Time magic?"

"You now see what we're up against," Cassandra hissed. "At this rate, it will take forever to get rid of the demons. And to get close enough to the rift..."

Ahnnie withdrew her glaive and gripped it tight. "Maybe if I just dodge the circles..."

"Too risky. You see how haphazardly they appear." The Seeker's eyes narrowed. "Maker strike me if this isn't a trap from the mages."

"And how would any of the mages here be capable of something like this?" Solas shot back. "The Veil is weaker here than in Haven, and not merely weak, but altered in a way I have not seen. The rebel mages here are simply not advanced enough, not even I–"

"The coincidence, Solas – the very timing of it–"

"That's all well and grand, but it's a completely different–"

"Guys!" Ahnnie gripped onto Solas' forearm while looking up pleadingly at Cassandra. "Can't we think of this later? There's...there's gotta be a way to stop it, first..."

The Chargers thundered up the hill as they spoke, reining in close behind the other's mounts. Iron Bull was about to lead a rush into the frenzy before Cassandra stopped and briefed him on the situation. And perhaps she felt like being nice, for she crossed her arms and asked him what he thought could be made of the situation.

"Well, here's the thing," Krem began with a critical eye on the battlefield. "Maybe you've got too many out there. Too many at once, just falling into these 'distortions'. Get some people out, maybe draw the demons away. See if that doesn't lay it all bare for you."

Solas looked over at Cassandra. "It may take some time to fully reach all the men, but a continuous call to fall back should do the trick."

"And if these circles follow the demons?" the Seeker countered.

"We've seen no evidence of that so far. It's worth a try."

Iron Bull chuckled as he ruffled the strip of hair along Krem's head. "That's a Bull's Charger for you! Brilliant, I tell ya. That all you want us to do, Boss? Draw 'em back and bash their brains out?"

Solas looked slightly amused at being called 'boss'. "Where's your mage? I will need her, as well as the Herald."

"For the last time, I'm an archer," Dalish snapped from somewhere behind the chief.

Solas turned in her voice's direction with a knowing smile. "Ah, there she is," he remarked. "Cassandra, call the signal to retreat; once everyone's far back enough, Dalish and I will take the Herald closer to the rift."

The Seeker nodded and turned aside to bark for the much desired signal. A horn blew out a singular tune across the air, quickly followed by another and another. The effect was instantaneous, as Ahnnie supposed it should be in a field of battle; the men fighting began to lead a retreat, burdened though it was by the demons following them. As promised, Cassandra kept the signal elongated so that all the soldiers had a chance to hear it. Blackwall and Sera were among the most notable figures drawing back from the rift, the discomfited elven archer sticking close to the Warden as she eyed the ground suspiciously.

"About time! Demons and magic can just piss off!" Sera was hissing. "Good thing I've got you in front of me, eh, Blackbeard?"

"Oh, of course," Blackwall sighed, exasperated. "Regular meat shield, I am."

And then the tune fluctuated by a note, upon which the successfully retreated fighters turned their backs around and steadily drew back with their weapons defensive; a feat reminiscent of bull baiters. Solas took Ahnnie in the meantime to an inconspicuous place behind a boulder, where they could watch the events more or less in safety.

"So, what's the plan?" Dalish's voice piped up from behind her, and the girl whirled around to find the tattooed elf coming up to them with a hand on a hip.

"We'll give them a chance to clear out first and observe how the circles move," Solas replied. "Then we will move in."

Ahnnie looked up at him. "What if demons spawn while we're in there?"

"Well then, we'll just have to get rid of them," Dalish said simply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"We will be with you," Solas assured her, "and if we can discern the slightest trace of a pattern in these distortions, we may be able to avoid them. We could even use them to our advantage."

"I know, I wasn't worried about safety," Ahnnie nodded. "Nothing's ever happened to me when I'm with you."

Dalish gave the both of them an inquisitive look, which Ahnnie didn't notice. The corner of Solas' lip twitched lightly, but only for a brief second before he was all business again, watching the yellow and green circles on the ground intently. Only a few men lagged behind, having stepped inadvertently into one of the circles in their retreat.

Once they were all gone, Dalish nodded at Solas. "Think now's the time?"

Solas looked left, then right, and nodded back. "The circles appear to be limited within a radius of three hundred feet of the rift," he remarked as he led them around the boulder. "So far, no pattern yet – but be ready to warn each other if you see one close by."

"An eye on the ground, an eye on the sky?" Dalish inquired, jerking a thumb at the crackling rift.

"That would be helpful, yes."

They were now within said bounds of the rift. "I'll watch out for circles," Ahnnie volunteered, but as soon as she said that, Dalish let out a yelp of surprise.

"Yellow circle!" the elf cried, pointing at the ground by Ahnnie's feet.

"Wha–"

A sudden blink, and then a push, as if someone shoved her backwards, and Ahnnie was suddenly propelled back to her former spot not less than a few seconds ago.

"An eye on the ground, an eye on the sky?" Dalish was asking again, with the same thumb jerking motion.

"That would be helpful, yes," Solas nodded, again.

Ahnnie did not have the time to wonder about the strange experience when she suddenly held them both back. "Yellow circle!" she cried out, having learned her lesson; as if on cue, a circle of yellowish light ringed the ground right where they had intended to step. It only held for a few seconds before it was gone. "Sorry," she apologized. "I just fell into that thing earlier...so, uh, I'll watch out for circles," she volunteered yet again, not entirely sure either of the mages ever remembered her saying it.

"Of course," Solas agreed. "Now, quickly!"

They dashed forward, darting here and there between circles as best as they could. "Green!" Ahnnie cried as one formed beneath Dalish's feet. The elf blinked away regardless, popping up beside them both after they had run forward a few paces.

"Yellow takes you back, green takes you forward," Ahnnie then realized.

"Perhaps the green ones aren't so bad," Dalish remarked. "It left me right where I wanted to be."

"True, I have noticed that," Solas agreed.

"Then we should take the green ones to get to the rift faster?" Ahnnie asked.

Solas frowned. "Well, I wouldn't–"

But she cut him off when she spotted a green circle and voluntarily hopped into it. This time, it felt as though she were being shoved forwards, and she blinked back into reality to find that she was several feet closer to her destination. A sense of exhilaration welled up within her as she realized the new usefulness of the strange temporal distortions; that was of course, until she heard the shriek of a terror demon spawning from the ground directly ahead of her.

"I was going to say, that I wouldn't be so hasty," Solas called to her as he and Dalish pulled up beside her.

"Right," Ahnnie nodded, holding her glaive out defensively. "Sorry."

Solas raised his staff in the air and chanted under his breath; shortly afterwards, a palish green circle ringed the area around them. "Let us hope this barrier will suffice in keeping the circles from us," he said. "Dalish, you and I will attack the demon; Ahnnie, stay between us and try to see if you can connect to the rift. And absolutely no one move from this spot."

"Certainly better than running all over the place," Dalish nodded, and she and Solas started shooting elemental bolts at the lanky terror demon. Solas first to freeze its feet in place, then Dalish with harsh fireballs to strike its torso and head. Ahnnie turned away from them to raise her left hand towards the rift, although she kept the other trained on the glaive, just in case.

The mark in her hand vibrated with more and more intensity, but any light it gave out suffused and spluttered like a dying car engine. She shook her head and looked back at Solas. "I need to get closer!"

Solas dispersed the barrier around them and the trio stalked carefully towards the rift. The terror demon howled and yanked a foot free of Solas' ice, before diving into the ground and disappearing from view. Ahnnie watched for circles as well as for the demon, knowing how spontaneously it could reappear at any moment.

It burst out of the ground roughly a yard away from an incoming yellow circle, directly below Dalish. With a piercing shriek, it sliced into the elven mage's body like a knife through hot butter.

"No!" Ahnnie shouted, watching Dalish's body tumble down lifelessly. Zeroing in on the yellow circle on the ground, she jumped into it without a second thought–

–and was brought back to the precious few seconds before the terror demon did its dirty deed. "Dalish!" She grabbed the mage's arm and yanked her back fiercely, hoping to be just in time. The demon burst through as expected, but barely a foot away from them. Ahnnie's heart skipped a beat as she realized they narrowly missed being mutilated by only a hair.

Solas grabbed them both back and froze the demon's feet again. "Be careful!" he chided, but the bite in his tone failed to rattle her. Dalish was alive; that was all that mattered.

As they were moving out again, Dalish gave her a solemn look. "Thank you," she murmured to the girl, and it took Ahnnie a moment to realize the expression was one of respect.

"It was nothing," Ahnnie smiled back.

Solas stopped them at a point much closer to the rift than before, and like before, he created a barrier around them before shooting at the demon to keep it at bay. Dalish went to work beside him and Ahnnie turned to the rift, hoping it was close enough this time. It's got to be, she thought. It always worked at this distance.

As she expected, a beam shot out from her mark and connected to the rift. Success! Now she only prayed that this rift didn't have stages.

"Down!" Dalish cried, and Ahnnie turned her head to find that the terror demon was successfully destroyed.

"Thank God!" the girl cried out, relieved.

Solas turned over to her, eyeing the rift critically. "How is it coming along?"

"Steady? I feel it weakening."

"Perhaps I can help you advance it."

That sounded like a good idea. The quicker it could be over with, the better. Before he could touch his hand to hers, though, he was suddenly hurled out of the barrier, lunged aside by a large brown shape.

"Solas!" Ahnnie cried out, watching in horror as the shade barreled him over. The force of the blow knocked the staff out of his hands, flinging it uselessly within confines of the barrier. A cry of pain escaped Solas' lips as the shade made a slash across his chest. With a powerful heave, he caught its wrist in one of his hands and sought to wrestle it away from his face.

Dalish found herself in a similar predicament as another shade spawned precariously close to their circle. "I'll get to him as soon as I can," she promised, but it wasn't reassurance enough. The more the seconds ticked by, the more danger Solas was in.

Ahnnie broke contact with the rift and lunged straight for Solas' shade. With a desperate cry, she sank the bladed end of her glaive into its leathery back, causing it to shriek in anger and whirl around to swipe at her with a claw. She ducked the blow and yanked her glaive free as it turned about, slicing into its face with the crescent blade before stabbing deep into its middle. Without even waiting for it to disintegrate, she grabbed Solas' hand and pulled him up.

"That was extremely foolish of you," he chided her again.

"It was completely worth it!" she shot back, hands and legs shaky from the sight of blood on his body. "Now are you going to help me, or not?"

They jumped back within the barrier and Ahnnie raised her left hand back towards the rift. As the beam flowed out from within her, Solas enclosed his hand around it and chanted out a spell. She felt a stream of mana course through her hand, feeding into the greedy mark, and the beam intensified. As the rift began to show the first sign of wearing away, Dalish finished her fight with the shade and held out her staff to prepare warding away more.

"Hurry, more demons are coming," she pointed out to them.

The rift hummed and morphed into itself, crackling like breaking glass. More mana poured into the mark and the beam tore away at the rift like a child shredding paper. Then with a final burst of light, the air thundered in their very ears and blew them all back in a haphazard tumble. The world spun like a crazy top as Ahnnie rolled away, slamming to a stop at a boulder. Ow, she thought, too shocked to open her mouth for a groan.

From above the gate posts, a trembling voice rang out. "M-Maker have mercy! It's over! Open the gates!"

The creaking of the winches and pulleys as the portcullis was raised echoed above the heads of the near-exhausted group of people filing in under the gate. They split into several groups, one containing the Herald heading towards the heart of Redcliffe and others following suit with the horses and other supplies. As soon as the Herald's party made headway down the path, one of Leliana's green-hooded scouts apprehended them.

"We spread word the Inquisition was coming," the scout reported with a quick salute to the Herald, "but you should know that no one here was expecting us."

"No one?" Ahnnie echoed incredulously. "Not even Grand Enchanter Fiona?"

The scout shrugged. "If she was, she hasn't told anyone."

"Well that's just shite!" Sera cursed, kicking at a stone. "We go through all this time crap and demon crap, and what does the friggin' Enchanter do but stand us up? Knew we shouldn't have come here! Friggin' mages..."

"We've arranged use of the tavern for the negotiations," the scout continued, ignoring the irate elf. "You could–"

"Agents of the Inquisition! My apologies." Their attention was directed to a spindly elven man running up to them. "Magister Alexius is in charge now," he huffed as he jogged to a stop, "but hasn't yet arrived. He's expected shortly. You can speak with the former Grand Enchanter in the meantime."

Ahnnie blinked, unable to process these sudden developments at once. "Did you say, 'Magister'?" she asked at last. "As in...from Tevinter?"

"Indeed," the elf nodded, a nervous smile wavering on his lips. "Just thought you should know."

"What else do you 'think we should know'?" Cassandra asked, stepping forward. A hand was already encircling the hilt of her sword.

The elven man backed away, widening eyes glued to the fingers on her weapon. "That's all I was sent to tell you. You'll find out in due time, I promise." Before the Seeker could reach him, he did a nervous jump-step backwards and rushed off as if pressed by an urgent errand.

Everyone watched him scurry away with both wary and weary eyes. Ahnnie refused to look at Cassandra's face, not wanting to look into the fury. "So..." she began, before they could lapse into an awkward silence, or something worse. "To the tavern?"

Cassandra dismissed the Inquisition scout and nodded in Ahnnie's direction as she walked forward. "To the tavern," she affirmed. "We should talk to the Grand Enchanter. And not so many of you," she added to the bulk of the Bull's Chargers, Blackwall, and Sera. "Keep your eyes about the village; be wary of anything strange. Solas, Varric, and I will suffice for this meeting."

The Chargers dispersed easily enough, not one for diplomatic negotiations anyways. Sera on the other hand scowled at this order, not keen to be stuck in a village known for harboring apostates, while Blackwall gave the Seeker a look of concern. "If you're certain...But I'll be close by. Give a shout, and I'll come running."

"Thank you, Warden Blackwall," Cassandra nodded.

Ahnnie turned to Solas as soon as the others were gone. "Are you okay with coming along? Do you want to rest somewhere?" she asked, eyeing the makeshift bandage peeping from the slash in his tunic worriedly.

"I will be fine, da'len," he assured her, smiling.

Redcliffe itself seemed like an amiable village. It was situated on a picturesque hillside overlooking a part of Lake Calenhad, pretty and charming even in the wintertime. The only thing that seemed to mar the air was the talk floating about them. Ahnnie supposed she should be used to this wherever she went by now, but it was still unnerving to hear of refugees and death and evil templars. The Gull and Lantern was several paces down the hill and near the docks, isolated and forlorn in a way that a tavern shouldn't be. It was near empty, too, save for three people standing in the middle of its dining area.

Grand Enchanter Fiona was a petite elven woman, with raven black hair and pale green eyes. She seemed so small that Ahnnie almost mistook her for a child. She stood flanked by two other mages, glaring uncertainly at the party of four as they walked into the dimly lit space. "Welcome, agents of the Inquisition," she greeted them. A slight Orlesian accent could be heard curling at the back of her tongue. "What has brought you to Redcliffe?"

"You invited us here," Cassandra put in frankly. "You sent a missive to Haven some time ago."

"You must be mistaken," Fiona corrected her. "I haven't written anything of the sort."

"Then who wrote this message?" The Seeker came up, reached into a pouch at her side, and withdrew a folded letter. "Is this not your handwriting?" So saying, she shoved it in the Enchanter's direction.

Fiona frowned at the parchment and reached to unfold it. Upon reading its contents, her frown turned confused, and she shook her head slowly. "I...I don't know. Now that you bring it up, I feel strange..."

"How strange?" Varric ventured to ask.

She shook her head one last time and graced the quartet with a rather pitiable expression. "Whoever...or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed. The free mages have already...pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium."

A shocked silence ran through their group. Varric could be heard letting out a whistle of breath, and Ahnnie tried to keep the surprise from showing on her face. Was this all a trap, after all? a fearful little voice asked from within her. Solas only seemed slightly perturbed, though what he truly thought was as always a mystery. And of course, she could trust from experience that Cassandra would respond to this sort of thing with the one emotion she knew best.

"An alliance with Tevinter?" The last two syllables were proclaimed so sharply, they rang in everyone's ears. "Do you not fear all of Thedas turning against you?"

Varric shook his head. "Andraste's ass...I'm trying to think of a single worse thing you could've done. And I've got nothing."

The Enchanter's face twisted further in agony, and the two mages beside her looked extremely uncomfortable. They clearly understood the implications of what they had done; and yet, they had done it anyway, which was what baffled Ahnnie.

"I understand that you are afraid," Solas murmured sympathetically, "but you deserve better than slavery to Tevinter."

Fiona sighed. "As an indentured servant to a magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you."

"But the Breach!" The words slipped out of her mouth, but this time Ahnnie couldn't blame herself; she was truly horrified to hear that one of the Inquisition's last options was now falling beyond their grasp. "We need the help, and the longer we leave it, the more demons come through! Doesn't Tevinter care about that at all?"

The Enchanter turned to her, apparently noticing her for the first time. "I am not forgetting the Breach, but we can only fight one war at a time. The templar threat was immediate; if we live, we can worry about the torn Veil."

Ahnnie shook her head. "A rift opened up at the village's gate! Anything could have happened if we didn't come today – by the time you worry about the Breach, it'll probably be–"

The tavern door suddenly slammed open, cutting her off. The quartet whirled around instinctively towards the noise, the source of which was a trio of men dressed in foreign clothes with equally foreign features.

"Welcome, my friends!" the head of the trio called out. He had a pleasant voice, and a very Ferelden-like sort of Common. "I apologize for not greeting you sooner."

Fiona gestured at the man, her discomfort replaced by a stiff politeness. "Agents of the Inquisition, allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius."

Magister Alexius filed in until he faced the quartet, blocking Enchanter Fiona from their view. He had a thick, squared jaw and downward slanting hooded eyes. The only hair she seemed to see on him were his dark, bushy eyebrows and scant lines of stubble streaking his chin. "The southern mages are under my command," he stated, as if to remind them of a fact. Then his eyes flicked over to Ahnnie. "And you are the Survivor, yes? The one from the Fade? Interesting."

Ahnnie stared at him awhile, strangely amazed to behold a Tevinter magister in the flesh despite the severity of the situation. Perhaps it was the suddenness of his entrance; at any rate, her former fire dwindled as she remembered the diplomatic setting their meeting was supposed to be under. And somehow, pissing off Tevinter seemed as unappealing as siding with it. "Maybe we can negotiate something," she said at last, her voice subdued, "since you lead the mages now. I'm sure we can come to an arrangement."

The Magister smiled, ever-so-lightly. "It is always a pleasure to meet a reasonable woman."

To be referred to as a 'woman' – and not a 'girl', for once – perhaps she shouldn't have let it take her aback, but it was...different.

Very subtly, in the dim lighting, his smile appeared to widen by a tad. "Come." He gestured her over to an empty table for two, which she walked up to with more than a little trepidation. Much to her relief, Cassandra took up sentry behind her, dutiful as ever. The Magister didn't seem to mind; he called over one of his men, a young one dressed in yellow, shortly after settling down. "Felix, would you send for a scribe, please? Pardon my manners," Alexius apologized. "My son Felix, friends."

Ahnnie smiled and nodded politely in Felix's direction. He returned the favor and gave both her and the Seeker a courtly bow before turning away from the table to start his search for a scribe.

"I'm not surprised you're here," the Magister went on. "Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could even attempt. There is no telling how many mages will be needed for such an endeavor. Ambitious, indeed."

"It's not an ambition," Ahnnie felt the need to point out, "but a necessity. There's no telling what will happen if the Breach is not dealt with."

"But of course. Such magic is dangerous."

"Then you will lend us a hand, Magister?"

Alexius' face hardened. "There will have to be–" But he appeared startled by something from the corner of his eye and turned in its direction.

Curious, Ahnnie followed his gaze. What interrupted him was Felix, alone, coming up to them as if he had something important to say. Wasn't he supposed to find a scribe? But he looked...queasy. Unwell. Magister Alexius abruptly pushed his chair back to step towards his son. Ahnnie rose from her seat as well, not certain of what was happening but alarmed by the young man's malady. Just as it seemed as though Felix were about to open his mouth, his head suddenly lolled and he tipped directly into her.

"Felix!" his father cried.

The girl reflexively caught him, slightly surprised by the bulk of his weight in her arms, before lowering him gently into a kneeling position. Once he reached the ground, he grabbed hold of one of her hands as if to steady himself and forced a paper into her palm. She opened her mouth to ask about it, but a strong pinch to her wrist warned her against it. She closed a fist around the paper in response. "I-is everything okay?" she asked instead, worried.

He gave a little shake of his head. "My lord, I'm so sorry," he apologized to his father. "Please forgive me."

The Magister was at his side in a heartbeat. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Father."

"Come, I'll get your powders." His voice, they could hear, was frantic. It was back to being forceful once he arose to address the others in the tavern, though. "Please excuse me, friends. I shall send word to the Inquisition; we will conclude the business at a later date. Fiona, I require your assistance back at the castle." Without even looking at her, he strode for the door.

The former Grand Enchanter gave an obedient nod and slinked after him, followed by her two mages. Felix limped behind them, a hand clutching the side of his stomach.

I guess that's that, then? Ahnnie thought as she watched them leave, still confused by the whole episode.

Felix looked back at them one last time. "I don't mean to trouble everyone," he apologized weakly, before ducking out along with everyone else. The door was then pulled shut and the quartet enveloped in the hazy quietness of the empty tavern.

Once Ahnnie believed the mages were well and gone, she opened her fist and uncrumpled the little paper.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at it. "What is that?" she was quick to ask.

"That guy, Felix, gave it to me when he fell. He didn't want anyone else to know."

Solas and Varric then approached, curious. "What's it say?" the rogue dwarf asked her.

Ahnnie walked closer to a torch flickering in a sconce on the wall and studied the hastily scrawled runes carefully. "Come to the Chantry. You are in danger."

A/N: Sorry for taking so long again, guys. It's been a rather busy month for me. I haven't abandoned this story, though! If all else fails, expect a chapter a month.

Again, really, really sorry!