Being on the arm of a Chantry Sister was like having your own personal force field.

Oh I still got all of the dirty looks for having long, pointed ears, but no one seemed ready to say anything so long as I was next to Petrice. She guided me down the bright street, turning into a small cafe on a corner. We hardly settled a two-seat table just inside the shade before a cheerful waiter bustled over.

"Good morning, Sister Petrice. How good to see you again."

"Good morning, Gallio." She said, "My usual lemon-water, please. What would you like to drink, Lady Maeve?"

I shrugged my cloak off, revealing the leather armor I'd been wearing beneath. The waiter grimaced a little at the sight of either my outfit or my ears, but managed to hold his tongue.

"Same." I said. "Order whatever you like, I'll eat just about anything."

Petrice did so, rattling off something Orlesian. He gave her a little bow, then left me to her tender mercies. She hesitated for a long moment, as if uncertain how to begin, then led with something safe.

"How goes your new Templar outpost?"

"I spent all morning helping hammer new chairs together." I replied, "It's a bit of a mess, but Thrask says it'll do once it's cleaned up."

Blonde eyebrows rose. "...you hammered chairs together?"

I let out an annoyed huff. "Why does everyone seem surprised by that? I'm an elf, Petrice. I'm not a noble. I had to build pretty much all of my own furniture out of scraps that other people tossed out."

"I... did not mean to presume." She bit her lip, "I just... are you not the Commander of your new guard? I cannot imagine Meredith building chairs."

"Meredith has servants and a ridiculous salary. I've got neither."

Those eyebrows rose even higher, lips parting. "You are not paid for your duties?"

"Nope." I popped the last syllable. "We're not allowed to be paid from the city's taxes, per the agreement the Grand Cleric struck with the nobles, and who do you think could have even afforded to pay me in the Alienage?"

"I... didn't think." She admitted, almost sheepishly. "I assumed someone would be, even if that amount would be very little."

"Not a copper."

"Yet you do it regardless?"

"Someone has to." I replied, sourly. "I didn't even want the job, but apparently being the only person to actually do something that needs to be done leaves you in charge of it. My actual day to day is working for Varric Tethras as a runner."

She tilted her head a little, as if seeing me in a new light. "Yet you take a morning to build chairs for Templars. Extraordinary."

...heat rose to my face again. "I'm a sour bitch who can't stand it when people refuse to do what should be blatantly obvious. Especially when it comes to things that keep me alive and not abused. Please don't give me credit where none is deserved."

Petrice proved to have a laugh that fit her harsh features; less a feminine giggle and more of a loud cackle, but it was no less genuine for that. "I'm sorry. It's just... in one breath you are courser than any sailor, and in the next as erudite as any noblewoman."

That... was a pretty good description of the generation of Americans I'd grown up with, at least as far as our language went.

"And you do deserve credit," She went on, still smiling. "All too often people refuse to take the simplest steps towards safety and salvation, simply because they mistake that first step for an enormous leap."

"...little too theological for me, but I can't argue the point."

Her reply had to wait for Gallio. Two tall cups were set before us, along with a small plate of bread and tiny bowl of honey. He bowed, smiling to Petrice, murmuring something in Orlesian. She nodded once in reply, "Merci."

"A short time yet for our meal." She told me once he'd gone. "Please, help yourself."

I did. The flavored water was good, and the bread was deliciously warm. We both tore into the latter with gusto, dipping it in the honey. Petrice apparently felt like throwing me off a bit more because she playfully batted at my fingers when I tried to get the last of the honey, smirking as she quickly scooped it up before popping her bread between her lips.

I tried to scowl, but couldn't stop the tiny smile that escaped me. Then I remembered who I was smiling at, and what she was responsible for in the game. Sure, she hadn't done that yet, but... she was still a true believer, a zealot of the highest order. Given that I was a skeptical Deist at the best of times, and a mage to boot, this situation could turn south in a hurry.

"So, um." I cleared my throat. "What did you want to talk about?"

She leaned back in her seat, still smiling. "Several things, but I was hoping to hear more of your opinion on the Qunari."

I let out a slow breath, "What's there to say? Whatever good they think their way of life offers, it's ruined by the immense harm they do in the process."

"You believe that there is any good within them?" The challenge came quickly, as I could have expected.

"Sure." I shrugged. "By all accounts they don't have starving people, that alone is a huge thing compared to everywhere else in Thedas. Corruption, blackmail, abuse of positions... those are dealt with summarily by the Qunari. Their military technology is far ahead of everyone else as well."

She'd started fidgeting rather quickly at my words, but managed to hold back until she was certain I'd finished. "But all of those things could be done in the light of the Maker!"

"They could be, but they aren't." I countered, quickly holding a hand up before they replied. "Petrice, calm down. Remember that I agree with you that the Qun is evil."

Her nose flared a little, whatever affection she might have had for me already replaced with an angry scowl. "You do not sound it at the moment."

"Because the first thing you need to do when you face down an enemy is recognize where they're strong." I replied. "You want to talk to me about the Qunari to get ideas of how to preach against them, right?"

"...yes." She allowed, still clearly annoyed that this hadn't gone as she'd probably thought it would. She'd probably hoped I'd be an easy mark to turn against them, or to turn into a martyr or something. "That is one reason."

I spread my hands apart on the table. "Then you need to think about what the Qunari are good at, where their strengths are. A starving man may not care that his immortal soul is at sake when he knows the Qunari will feed him three good meals a day for the rest of his life."

She started to say something hot in reply, forced herself to stop, then jerked her chin in a nod. "Your... point is a philosophical one, and one that Divines have used in the past. I accept it. What other strengths do they have?"

"No internal racism. You're either a Qunari, or you're not. That makes them very tempting for a lot of elves sick of being treated as barely better than slaves. Universal literacy combines with the technology to draw in scholars." I went on, "Their non-magical medicine is probably leagues better than anything we've got down here."

"Quite the list." She said through mostly clenched teeth. "It is a wonder you hate them so, when they are so superior to us."

"Because they're a fucking slave state, Petrice." I snapped back at her. "Everyone in their society, everyone, is enslaved!"

My abrupt anger made her jerk in surprise, flinching back a little, lips parted as she stared at me.

"Their choices are serving in their role until they die, or dying an early death. They don't get to choose who they have kids with, don't get to choose their jobs. They don't have hobbies. They don't get to travel, to see the world. Not unless their job demands it. They don't get to learn anything outside of the role they're given when the come of age. They have no choices from the moment they're born until the day they die. No amount of fancy bullshit is worth that."

Inhaling deeply, I realized I'd have risen out of my chair, and only slowly forced myself to sit back down. Petrice just kept staring at me, mouth slightly open.

"Whatever good they do, whatever order they think they bring," I went on, my voice as hard as I could make it. "Is not worth what they do to those who don't agree with them. What they do to their own people. A person should have the freedom to think as they want, say what they want, do what they want, so long as no one is hurt. The Qunari strip away any freedom a person could have, and leave a mindless, easily replaceable drone behind."

"...drone?"

I let out a frustrated snort. "An insect. A mindless little ant, programmed do exactly one thing, over and over and over until it dies, then is replaced by another little ant to do the exact same thing. No one leaves a legacy behind, no memories, no dreams. The Qunari take even those away, unless you manage to escape it. They take living, breathing people and turn them into soulless drones. As far as I know most of the people who survive escaping from them have so few life skills outside of their role that they literally can't function in normal life."

Petrice swallowed. "I... see..."

My arm waved impatiently, and I butchered a quote from Heinlein to try and make my opinion clearer. "A person should never be defined by one thing, Petrice. A person should be able to cook their own food, build their own shelter. Should be able to worship how they want, able to sing music, write books, fight battles, raise kids. Care for the sick, comfort the grieving. A person should live with honor, die with glory, and be free to define what that means to them."

Her weight shifted, chin moving in a quick nod. Her eyes were still very wide, oddly so. "What else? What else do you hate of them?"

"You know what they do to their mages?" I asked at once, more than ready to keep going now that she'd gotten me started. "The Circles may be corrupt and very fucked up, but they're paradises compared to what the Qunari do."

"You mean sew their mouths shut, among other things."

"Exactly, and that's barbaric as hell, but that's still an improvement over what they do to people who refuse to convert. If they ever took me alive they'd force Qamek down my throat, and I will never let them take me alive."

Petrice's eyebrows furrowed, "Qamek? What is Qamek?"

"A poison." I hissed. "I don't know what it actually is, but I know what it does. A heavy enough dose will destroy the mind of anyone they give it to. What's left of the person isn't even as cognizant as a Tranquil. They're good for nothing more than mindless labor, and that's what the Qunari use them for."

Her lips parted in shock. Evidently she hadn't known that, or she was a fantastic actress. "That is... by the Maker. They... addle them? By way of poison?"

Some of the steam had run out of me, and I felt myself slumping back. "More or less. I mean, Tranquility is disgusting too, but at least there's... I don't know. A core of a person left. They can still function on their own, mostly. Qamek doesn't even leave that much behind. And they use it on anyone they capture or conquer who refuses to convert. They fill their fields and mines with people they've left brain-dead, because they still want to get some use out of them before they die. Evil."

Our food arrived as we both sat silently. It proved to be... well, a little plate of french fries, crackers, cheese, and some kind of thinly sliced meat. I just sat there, staring at it, trying to get my breathing and my emotions under control. I hadn't been able to really rant like that in... a while, and it had felt good. Way too good. That was dangerous. If I didn't watch my mouth, I'd say something I really shouldn't.

"...start small." I said, tone more or less even, if tired.

Petrice blinked just before she could reach for some of the food, "Pardon, my lady?"

I sighed and said again. "Start small, when you dissuade people from converting to the Qun. Ask them what they do for fun. What their dream jobs would be, and then tell them that the Qunari wouldn't let them do either one. Ever."

"Oh. Yes." She frowned, nodding slowly. "You follow Divine Amara the Second's wisdom. You believe we should speak to material things first, and only lightly speak to the spiritual after."

That was the first time I'd ever heard of a Divine by that name, but sure. "More or less. If you start by railing about people losing their immortal souls, it's hard to work your way back to lower stake things. Work that into the sermon if you have to, but people are more likely to listen if you warn them about how miserable they'd be under the Qun. Then you work on their faith later, once they realize that the Qunari aren't here to save them."

"I... will consider that. Please, we should eat. The potatoes will grow cold quickly."

Reaching out, I took a nibble of a fry. "...needs salt. Or ketchup."

"Ketch-up?"

"Tomato and sugar sauce." I sighed, eating the rest of it anyway. "Not bad, but not like at home."

She ate a fry of her own slowly, the smiled a little. "It does need salt."

Huffing, I munched on a few more, then changed over to the crackers, cheese, and thinly sliced meat. It proved to be ham, and quite good ham at that. We slowly settled back into our more companionable arrangement as we ate, with Petrice again playfully grabbing food I was reaching for before I could get a hold of it.

It was... kind of nice, even if it was Petrice. I mean, sure, Isabella flirted with me, but Isabella flirted with everyone. And she was incredibly blatant and forward about it. This was... more childish in some ways, I guess. More innocent maybe. And, if I was being honest, more flattering. It was certainly more relaxing, bringing me down from the argumentative high I'd gotten myself on.

Hands flicked back and forth as we stole food from one another, only stopping when the last of it was gone.

After Gallio had taken our empty plates and cups, and a long moment of silence, Petrice spoke again. "I... would like to give a sermon in the Alienage. Speaking against the temptations of the Qunari."

"You'd be the first Sister or Mother to do so, I imagine." I replied. "The ones that come to officiate the weddings always bring armed guards, and leave as quickly as they can after their part is done with."

"I would not do such a thing. For too long we have not spread the Maker's Grace and Andraste's Wisdom to your people." She took a deep breath, then let it out. "It shames me that it took the arrival of the Qunari, and meeting you, to truly realize that."

My eyebrows rose. "We talked all of one time before today."

"Yes, but I'd never considered that Elves would be tempted by the Qunari until you mentioned as such. I've spent the last week reading the archives of the Qunari's invasions, and... you are right. Elves were always among the first to join the heretics when given the choice."

I nodded a little, "Yeah, because they didn't know what the Qunari were actually like. They just knew they weren't the Humans who'd been abusing them for centuries."

"Precisely." She said. "I... we need to educate them. Teach them. I do not know what I can do to improve the lot of the Elves in general, though I will try. All I know is that I must try to stop them from making the wrong choice in the heresy of the Qun, and I wish for your aid in bringing them back to the Light of the Maker."

"Why me?" I muttered, not really intending for her to hear me, much less answer.

"Because... I heard the passion in your soul when you spoke to me in the Chantry." She folded her hands together, meeting my eyes. "When you spoke to me just now. You may admire the abomination that is the Qun, but you do not let it blind you to the fact that it is an abomination. You see the evil for what it is, curse it in the Maker's name. I... I was moved by it, even as I sat before you."

And there was that uncomfortable zeal again, even more so than before. It definitely made me wonder just what the fuck I was doing here with her, with someone who looked at me like that.

God above, I'd been playing flirty little games with her a few minutes ago, now she was looking like I'd just given her a divine revelation.

What the hell should I say back? Do? Think?

I... well...

Ugh. I guess... could I try to talk her down a little? It kind of felt like I could, since she was so uncomfortably staring at me. Maybe... well, yeah. Maybe I could talk her down a bit. Stop her from conning idiots into throwing themselves at the Qunari to die. Get her to ease up on the quest for heaven, or whatever she'd ended up sending people on.

It'd mean fucking up canon a bit, but how the hell could I make things worse than they turned out? Besides, Hawke wasn't here like she should have been. Canon was fucked anyway, so I might as well do what I could.

That and... dammit. She wasn't wrong. A lot of the nameless people Hawke slaughtered during the Qunari invasion were elves. Elves who joined up probably not having the faintest idea what they were actually joining, only knowing that it was a powerfully armed group who didn't care that they were elves.

I didn't want to be here... but I was. And I'd likely be stuck here for years yet.

I didn't want to see my neighbors joining the Qun.

I didn't want to have to kill them when the Arishok lost his temper.

"Do I have your blessing?"

"I don't run the Alienage, Petrice. You don't need my blessing." I said tiredly.

"But I would like it all the same." She replied.

I sighed, hating that it felt like I was cutting yet another deal I really shouldn't be. "Yeah. You do. Just no incitements to violence, all right? I like the idea of cutting off the Qunari's recruits, but if you try to turn Elves into martyrs... well, we're going to have a problem."

"I will not." Petrice said at once. "Andraste did not volunteer for the flame."

...ouch. I was pretty sure that I knew that line. It was the same one that Elthina had given to Petrice, moments before a Qunari archer killed her.

And here she was, saying to me.

"... need to get to the docks." I mumbled, suddenly feeling utterly exhausted, and having no desire at all to continue this conversation. With my luck she was about to ask my personal faith, and that would set her off again when she realized her apparent assumptions about my belief in her Maker weren't exactly accurate. "Did you still want to come with?"

Sadly she did. At least she paid for lunch, quickly moving around to offer me her arm again once I'd pulled my cloak back on. I accepted it, got a bashful smile that looked incredibly out of place on her severe features, and then we were off once more.

Thankfully Petrice seemed to realize I wasn't in the mood to talk about the Qunari anymore. We walked in silence as far as the nearest stairwell down, my companion only speaking once we'd reached the shadier streets of Lowtown.

"What is at the docks?" She asked curiously. "A letter for your employer?"

I shook my head, turning us down a side-street that was the fastest way to the part of the docks I wanted to get to. "Information. I need to talk to anyone I can from Ferelden about how the Blight is going."

"Ah." She nodded, "Deshyr Tethras is concerned about his investments there?"

"Bartrand still the Deshyr, I think." I paused before admitting. "Or maybe they're both Deshyrs. I'm fuzzy on how those titles work, and they never really talk about it. Anyway, Varric's mostly worried that the Blight is going to spread beyond Ferelden. So am I."

Petrice blinked a few times. "You do not... oh. Of course not. No announcement has been made."

I slowed to a stop, tugging her to a halt as well. "Announcement? About... oh for God's sake. The Blight's over, isn't it?"

She frowned, probably at my choice of 'God' instead of 'Maker', but nodded slowly. "Yes, though the Grand Cleric is uncertain that it was an actual Blight at all. None have ever been dealt with so quickly."

"Pretty sure it was." I shook my head. "How long ago was the Archdemon killed?"

"...three weeks, perhaps. Reports only reached the Grand Cleric's desk a few days past. It will likely be some time before a proclamation is read." She paused, "You... do not intend to go to Ferelden, do you?"

I started to shake my head, stopped, then had to admit. "I really don't want to, no, but I think I'm going to have to make a trip there eventually. There's... something I need to figure out, and there might be answers there."

Petrice licked her lips, then said as diffidently as she could. "I do not believe that the Alienage would benefit from your departure."

"They'd live, and I wouldn't be staying there." Ferelden wasn't any better for Elves than Kirkwall. Especially since I actually had both friends and contacts here. "A short trip to either Amaranthine or Denerim at most, and like I said it's not guaranteed at all that I'll actually need to go. I just need information. Besides, it's not like I have the money to make that kind of trip. Even if I do end up going, it's not going to be for quite a while."

Teeth worked on her lip a bit more before she spoke. "...I will not abuse my position, but I may be able to help."

"I won't ask you to do that. It's my affair to resolve." Assuming that Longing and I were right, and someone else from Earth was in Ferelden at all. In theory I should be able to find out the two key items I needed information on to start making more informed decisions about my future.

First of those was intelligence on the Warden's party. Everyone who'd accompanied them. It would be easy to pick out anyone from home among that number. If there was, and they'd survived, I could risk a trip to try and find them to see if they knew a way home. Or, at least, could give me a summary of what they'd changed. I'd hope for the former, but plan for the latter.

Second... I still needed to know about Hawke. Where the hell were these lands of hers, and was she ever going to show up in Kirkwall? Because if she wasn't, than I had no idea how that was going to effect things here. Things were already going off the rails enough without her. In theory, I thought Kirkwall could survive without her for a few years yet. We could handle the Deep Roads expedition without her if it came to that. But the Qunari invasion and the Templar-Mage fight was... something else entirely.

"It's personal. I can handle..." My voice trailed off as my focus finally returned to the here and now, and I realized something that should have been readily apparent a few minutes ago.

It was very, very quiet on this street.

No street in Lowtown was this quiet. Not in the early afternoon.

The softest crunch of a boot had me whirling, shoving Petrice out of the way as a man rushed out of an alley with a knife in hand. I got my left arm up, slapping his limb away when he tried to thrust at my chest. My own blade sang as I yanked it free with my other hand, the sight of the steel making him dance backward.

"Idiot!" Another man growled, stepping out from a nearby home. He had a wild beard, a short spear, and a laborer's clothes. "I said all together!"

"Sorry, boss!"

I got my left hand on Petrice, pushing her back until she hit the wall behind her... and more men and women emerged from all around us.

Four... six... seven. Two had crude spears, the other five all had knives of varying quality.

Seven on one, and they were spread out. Even if I used my Flamethrower spell I wouldn't get more than one or two before the others swarmed me.

Holy hell. This was not good.

Petrice must have agreed, because she went right for her titles. "I am Sister Petrice, secretary to the Grand Cleric herself! Explain yourselves!"

Beardy grinned at her. "Just taking out some knife-eared garbage, after she murdered a Sister. Proof that the Chantry should never have let the rabbits think they're real people. Especially this bitch, parading around with her horse-hair thinking she's a noble."

I felt her start to shake as she realized that they weren't going to let her live either.

"Petrice." I whispered, trying to keep an eye on all of them as they spread out, encircling us. "I'm going to cut you a path. When I do, you run. Got it?"

"Lady Maeve, I-"

The woman to my left had one of the spears, and looked nervous. She was first then. I took a final breath, ignored Petrice's protests, and kicked off into a run.

Shouts of alarm came, and everyone else rushed me even as I rushed at her.

Her lunge was sloppy and badly aimed. It was child's play to parry it, slide my blade along the shaft, using it as a guide to drive the point of the blade into the base of her throat. She fell, clutching at her spurting blood, leaving me to whirl around in time to meet two men bull-rushing me.

"Petrice!" A frantic slash brought them up short, but let two more catch up. "Run!"

She bolted, robes flapping as she tore off down the street. I backpedaled after her as quickly as I could, lashing out with my weapon to try and keep the men back.

One was too eager, too stupid. He came in, slashing wildly, and caught my sword to the face when I abused its longer reach. He reeled back with a howl, eyes ruined from where I'd just cut across his face. Wounded but not dead, quickly shoved back by the others before I could finish him.

They were all taller than me. Had longer legs. I couldn't outrun them. There wasn't anything nearby I could climb, not quickly enough to get away.

"Wait! Wait!" My heart froze as the leader corralled his remaining men and women. "Now!"

All five came at me at once, shoulder to shoulder. A living wall that was going to bear me down to the ground and stab me to death. I'd take one more with me, if that.

I was going to die.

Like fucking hell! Not like this. Not stabbed to death by a bunch of unwashed, racist assholes who thought me not being raped or enslaved meant they'd lost something in their lives. Like fucking hell would I die like this!

They were finally grouped up. Good!

"Fuego!" The magic came eagerly with my anger, lights flashing around my eyes as I guided the power, tasted the burnt meat, smelled the gasoline in the air.

My flamethrower roared in the confined space of the street, spilling over three of the charging figures before they could even try to escape. They went up like living torches, their screams audible even over the roar of the fire.

...but I'd cut it too close. Used my trump card too late.

The last pair were on me before I could finish sweeping my spell all the way across their line. I brought my dueling blade up as he screamed in fear and rage, lashing out with his wooden spear. That time my parry-riposte did nothing; he stayed back, out of my reach.

He bought time for the last woman, tears in her eyes, to simply run into me without stopping.

Pain exploded from my guts when her dagger sank into them, more of it coming as she yanked it, trying to disembowel me.

My voice joined the chorus of screams, sword thrusting up and into her ribs. Her own scream ended when it cut deeply, piercing deep into her chest. I twisted at the hips, throwing her off of me, staggering.

The spear took me in the shoulder, driving me back, my feet scrambling to keep me upright. My sword fell from suddenly limp fingers, clattering to the ground.

"Bitch!" He screamed at me, weeping even as he impaled me. "Abomination! Die! Fucking die!"

I tried to reach for the magic... but there was nothing there. Just pain.

"...Maeve! Let me in! You're dying! Let me in!"

He kept pushing until my back hit a wall, drawing a rasp from my lungs. My guts were on fire. My sword arm was limp. Useless. Blood was pouring from my shoulder. More was splattering down as the dagger tore my belly open up with each step.

"Maeve!" Longing howled from everywhere and nowhere. "Please!"

...no. I wasn't done yet. I wasn't done yet.

My left hand still worked. I reached around, yanking the knife out of my intestines. "Fuck... off."

I don't think he heard me. He was too busy screaming, trying to drive his spear all the way through the my shoulder, to pin me to the building behind me. He was close. So close now.

His screaming cut off when I rammed the knife up and under his sternum.

He fell with a choking gurgle.

I stayed upright... pinned to the front door of a ramshackle home by the spear he'd pushed all the way through my shoulder.

Petrice's voice joined with Longing's as everything went black.

"Maeve!"