First chapter of the New Years! I hope you all had a happy new year even though it's a bit late to be saying that. New year, new chapter.

(Updated 1/10/2023, 2:52am: I noticed lore issues (me fucking up words) in the chapter that will be dealt with. There are also larger ones that will be dealt with later, but not now)

Cullen wasn't sure of what to expect from the apostate mage. He expected someone as rude and crass as this 'Archmage' to have a more disheveled appearance and carry themselves like an elderly man. Duneyrr was not what he expected.

To start with he was a mountain of a man. He was taller than anyone he ever met that wasn't a Qunari and had enough muscles on him he could be easily mistaken for a mercenary. He had golden blonde hair which was very well kept and some braids worked into the left side of his hair. His beard was short, but well groomed as if he were a noble.

At the moment he wore a thin, short sleeved shirt and woolen pants as he sat in the far left side of Josephine's office. His nose was dug into a bestiary with a mound of various other books at his side. Cullen didn't even know where most of them came from when the Inquisition didn't have a library in their camp.

Done peaking in from the doorway Cullen had finally stepped in to talk to his faction's ambassador.

"Josephine," Cullen greeted, carefully eyeing the man who was too engrossed in a book of animals and creatures to acknowledge his presence. "How was everything? Are they... anything we should be worried about?" He whispered the last part in close to Josephine as to not attract the mage's attention.

"Nothing to worry about," Josephine said aloud. "As I thought, they are harmless... mostly."

"Mostly?" Cullen parroted.

"They are more of a danger to themselves than anyone else. Various accidents of both magical and physical nature happen there and they all do their best to keep in inside their building."

"The most damage we've ever done outside our college technically wasn't us," Duneyrr explained, drawing attention to himself. "An elven diplomat from Summerset came to the college as an advisor to my precursor. When we recovered the orb he tried to use it for himself. The city below was a mess and I had to go to a dungeon to get a staff." He tapped the top the staff next to his chair, indicating a correlation. "I 'disabled' the eye long enough and the elf was killed. Even after we explained to the town what happened they still blamed us."

"How would they not be mad when a magical artifact that should have been destroyed went crazy?" Cullen countered.

"For starters, if it was so easy to destroy we would have done so. After that mess it was moved, but was brought back seven years later – three years ago."

"Why would you bring it back?" Cullen asked in a scrutinizing way, but curious nonetheless.

"Thalmor have been poking around for the Psijic order, the people who took away the eye in the first place," Duneyrr explained. "They're getting close to finding their home of Arteum and because Thalmor presence has been mostly expunged from my home it was safer to move it back to the college, even against the wishes of all the college staff."

"If none of you wanted it back then why did you take it back?" He questioned more.

"Because the only other options weren't very good ones," he stated. "Aside from us they had the choices of a mad wizard of Telvani that Neloth has only given me the pleasure of knowing through stories, submerging it under water and risking the Thalmor using a diving bell to retrieve it, or Pyandonea."

Duneyrr sat down the book he was reading and put a cloth slip on the page he was reading. He stood from his seat and holstered his staff on his back.

"I'm getting some air," he stated, looking at the two.

Cullen watched him as he left the room. He heard his footsteps down the hallway and a loud resounding "bex" and the doors swing open on their creaky hinges.

His ears shifted to Josephine as she began to speak. "Is there anything else you came to speak to me about?"

"No, that was all." He answered, leaving Josephine's office. As he shut the door behind him Josephine let out a sigh, hoping that the Archmage's stay at Haven didn't turn out for the worst.

It had been quite awhile since Duneyrr had seen snow. He had been in this world for almost two months now and his stay hadn't gone smoothly. Between the Templar attacks and this Inquisition he found himself aiding he was unable to research any ways of getting back home.

The camp by the name of 'Haven' was at least a half mile behind him now. He could still see it's wooden walls clearly in the distance behind him. The place could be easily defended, but easily fall to any attacking force nonetheless; wood never made for the best defenses. At least it was better than nothing.

For those who couldn't find housing of their own they set up tents around local campfires. There were more adults than children and most of them at least knew how to fend for themselves. Granted, at least three quarters of the adult population were inquisition foot soldiers. Perhaps he could see how well they were trained before entering the camp proper.

One of the more interesting characters he met was a woman named Giselle. A very kind woman who resembled a Redguard until he heard her accent. She probably puts up with more shit than she should. When Duneyrr found out she was a priest of a different religion he was worried she may attempt to convert him, but that didn't happen. Maybe she felt it would be bad tactics to do so to a potential help so early and was saving it for later.

Wading through the ankle high snow was effortless for him compared to the shorter two he traveled back with. If only it were colder it would remind him more of his homeland. This was more like early winter in southern-Whiterun.

Several small creatures scampered out of the way, some of them he recognized from memory and others from the bestiary from earlier. One of them was a hairless creature that looked like a sort of mix between a rabbit and a mole. Apparently they're meant to be subterranean creatures, which meant they were mostly blind. Blind enough to not see a lightning bolt being hurled at it from a distance. The creature splattered everywhere, even getting itself on some of Duneyrr's exposed skin.

"Ugly little shit," Duneyrr cursed. He looked around noticing that all the fauna had vacated the area. "In retrospect I should've tried to capture you. The college would have a field day figuring you out. Would have had would be more accurate."

Duneyrr continued his trek through the clearing, walking past a scorch mark of where a small bolt of lightning had struck the ground. Eventually he found himself of a path that led downhill towards a small log house. The place was surrounded by high rocky inclines that led to the hills above. It was in good condition despite looking like it hadn't been lived in for a few months.

He approached the front door and slowly opened it with staff in hand. Duneyrr surveyed the room thoroughly before taking another step in. There was only a single wall in the house acting as a divider. He carefully approached the wall with a spell charged in his hand. His steps were silent, muffled by his fur boots, as he got closer to the other half of the house.

When he rounded the corner, he found no one. The house was empty.

There was a desk in that small corner of the house, completely undisturbed. Cobwebs stuck to the underside of the wood and dust covered it's top. Duneyrr walked towards the desk and noticed the papers on top. They were old, but not so old to have their contents faded away.

When he lifted them off the desk dust scattered in air, some hitting him in the face. "'Elfroot, when ground up and dissolved in a solution, combined with lyrium can create a lyrium potion, resulting in increased mana reserves for a time.'" He read aloud. "Alchemy notes," he commented. "But what's lyrium? Or elfroot?"

There were more contents, but none of them very interesting. Mostly comments from the page's author, a man named Taigen. Duneyrr folded the note and put it inside the waist of his pants.

Duneyrr scoured the house some more, finding scraps of cloth, alchemical herbs and gold in various cabinets around the cabin. Beyond that was nothing of any interest, only poorly preserved food. With nothing left to interest him he left the cabin behind and made his way back towards Haven.

"You have a shield, use it!" Cullen shouted as he saw a new recruit get whacked in the helmet by a practice sword. With an influx of so many new conscripts it shouldn't be a surprise that most of them didn't know how to properly fight, but he thought it would at least be common sense to use the large wooden circle to block an incoming hit.

Cullen walked up and down the empty column between the two groups, watching both of them practice their swings. Some recruits fumbled their weapons as they failed to keep a firm grip and others were static in place, only moving their arms and adjusting their footing without moving with the fight.

"These soldiers are shit," he heard a familiar voice comment from a distance.

Cullen's head turned towards the voice, unsurprised at who's vulgarity he heard. "Do you even have any experience to comment from?" He countered with an unimpressed look.

"Are you really defending that?" Duneyrr asked, pointing to two greenhorns. One was winding up a swing that could so easily be read from a mile away, and the other made an attempt to capitalize on it – a smart move – but slipped in the dirt and landed on his face. The swinger, who had just initiated his attack, had smacked a man from the pair next to him in the side of the head. "That was so much worse than I was expecting it to go."

"What are you to expect from new recruits?" He attempted to counter.

"Basic competency," answered Duneyrr who took a seat on a log nearby. "When I first started swinging a weapon I knew to keep it in front of me and not start a swing from behind me."

Cullen was silent in that moment as he stared at the new recruit who was getting himself off the ground. This was not the best introduction of the inquisition's forces. If the inquisition was to be a respectable organization that could proudly present itself, then it needed to have a military that could show it's strength. This was the exact opposite of that.

Ever since this college of his has been unveiled it's been a collective agreement that if the talk with the mages at Redcliffe fails, then the college is the second option. But that's only if the Herald decides to go with the option of the mages to start with.

Cullen had set aside his belief for the Templars to entertain the thought of getting the mages on board. Of course he would have them fully integrated into the inquisition so a watchful eye could be kept on them. He still wouldn't be happy with it, but it was a concession he could make. However, if Redcliffe failed and they were forced to turn to the college... the Inquisition would be forced to use negotiation. Their leader, who still sat right next him, saw the absolute state of their army. There was no way he could shock and awe them with his army now.

"Cullen," Duneyrr said, snapping the commander out of his trance. "Did you teach these men that shield technique?"

"What do you mean?" Cullen asked, slightly confused.

"They're tilting their shields downwards towards the ground," Duneyrr said, pointing towards a pair of soldiers who were having rocks thrown at their shields. "The way they angle their shields forces the rocks to hit the ground. Did you teach them that?"

"Yes," Cullen said. "The rocks are meant to simulate projectile spells. The angle of the shield forces the spell down towards the ground, whereas if it were faced upwards it would-"

"Hit them in the face?" Duneyrr finished for him, his words sounding more like a question than a statement.

"Yes, it's a-"

"Templar technique," Duneyrr interrupted again.

"How do you know?"

"A few weeks after we arrived here we were attacked by Templars," he answered in a matter of fact tone. "They would always come at us with their shields angled downwards. Never really worked against lightning spells, but everything else it did."

Duneyrr talking about his encounters with Templars unsettled Cullen a bit. He could acknowledge it was in self defense, but the Templars were still his brothers and sisters in arms, even if they no longer saw him in that light. He wondered how many Templars Duneyrr had murdered and if he regretted it.

"Not much we can do about the lightning aside from enchanting the shields," Cullen noted, doing his best to ignore the uneasy feeling in his gut.

"Are you a Templar?" Duneyrr asked, eyeing him curiously from his peripherals.

"Was," Cullen answered dryly. "Because of my association with the Inquisition my fellow Templars have branded me a traitor."

"What kind of magic do you people use?"

"We... we don't use magic. We use lyrium."

Duneyrr paused for a moment and went back to staring at the recruits from just before. "I've heard of lyrium but I don't know what it is. What can you tell me?"

"Lyrium is a mineral which is both valuable and dangerous. Keep in mind, when I say it's dangerous I mean it. Physical contact with raw lyrium ore will cause serious injury and psychological damage for humans, elves, and Qunari, and any contact with the unrefined substance will kill a mage outright."

"Sounds like it could be a decent explosive weapon," Duneyrr commented, leaning forward and listening more intently.

"It sometimes is. That's why dwarves are the-"

"Dwarves?" Said the Archmage. "You have dwarves here?"

"You've met Varric," Cullen stated plainly with an odd look on his face.

"He's a dwarf? I just thought he was short."

Cullen let out a slight laugh. "No, he's a dwarf. Dwarves know more about lyrium than any other race. They mine the stuff after all."

"I'll go ask him," Duneyrr said, standing from his log.

He turned around towards the main gate which was already opening up. Through the gate came Leliana, their spymaster and the second person of the Herald's council the Archmage met.

"Cullen, we're gathering," she called, tearing Cullen away from his soldiers.

"While you're doing that I'll have a talk with the midget."

"What is he talking about?" Leliana asked.

"Varric," Cullen quickly responded.

Varric sat around the fire with his crossbow propped against the wall of a nearby building. As the fire crackled and radiated heat that warmed the dwarf's body he starred up at the sky, into the green breach to the fade.

He still couldn't believe it. Fighting demons alongside a collection of individuals who probably would have never come together before. There was Cassandra, a seeker for the Chantry and Right Hand of the Divine, Solas, an elvish hedge mage who associated with neither the Dalish or the city elves, Iron Bull, a Qunari mercenary and leader of the Bull's Chargers, Sera, one of the Friends of Red Jenny and professional prankster, Blackwall, veteran Grey Warden of the Free Marches and himself. Currently the Inquisitor and her advisors were convening about getting some First Enchantress from Orlais.

But then there was their new add on. Some mage from Maker knows where who runs an entire college full of other young mages. The man was high strung, quite crass and short tempered, which Varric couldn't blame the former-most on him for if he was essentially a magical academy's headmaster. Varric couldn't see into the magical side of things and what accidents could occur on that front, but he's seen some students go in and out of the college and they were young. They were probably between the ages of fifteen to eighteen on the younger end, and between nineteen and their early twenties an the older side. And Varric knew that kids are really damn stupid.

Now that he thought about it he could probably write a book on it. A handful of young mages get accepted into a college where they go on strange adventures and uncover dark mysteries. Perhaps have a villain so feared that his name is forbidden to speak, even among private circles.

Speaking of magic and those who wielded it, the man of the hour was just in sight with a half empty bottle of cheap wine in hand. The man still stood tall with no signs of intoxication.

"I wanted to come here earlier but I got thirsty," said the man, his voice also showing complete sobriety. "There are questions I want to ask you about your people and a mineral called lyrium. If you're willing to answer them that is."

"I don't have much better to do right now. Plus, at least your asking me to give up unlike Cassandra," Varric replied. "So where do you you want to start."

"Lyrium," Duneyrr quickly answered. "What is it, what does it do, why is it so dangerous, where is it mined and how is it mined.

"Slow down there. You're lucky I was able to get all that," Varric said. He adjusted himself in his seat and Duneyrr sat on a log across from him. "I suppose we can start with what it is. Lyrium is a dangerous mineral that grows beneath the earth. It's very dangerous to handle by anyone who's not a dwarf-"

"Why?" Duneyrr interrupted.

"That wasn't on the list of questions," Varric laughed.

"Can you at least answer it?" Duneyrr asked.

"Don't see the harm in it. It'll knock the second question off as well," Varric answered. "Lyrium is a mineral that drains magic. Templars use it to counter mages. The reason why it's safe for dwarves to handle it unlike other races is because we can't use magic."

"Every dwarf is incapable?" Duneyrr queried.

"Yep," Varric swiftly replied. "Can't dream, so we can't use magic."

"Can't dream, eh?" Duneyrr commented as he took a small sip from his wine bottle. "Looks like at least one race has protection here."

"Protection from what?" Varric asked.

Duneyrr sat upright somewhat as he began to answer. "From my homeland we have certain gods that can infiltrate the mind. Among them are Sheogorath and Vaermina, the latter of which holds domains over dreams and nightmares."

"I'm not sure if I believe in all that stuff," Varric said. "No offense of course. I don't even have that much faith in the chantries teachings."

"Even if you don't, it must feel decent to know you have a resistance to some evil entities."

Varric shrugged in agreement. Though he did wonder why he called a god of his people 'evil' of all things. "Anyway. So back on topic. We've covered what it is and what it does," Varric said. "As to why it's so dangerous, well I already mentioned that it's mostly safe for dwarves because we can't use magic and Lyrium drains magic. Why it's so dangerous is because it can either cause severe symptoms or out right kill you. For humans and elves at least, the symptoms can range from nausea, blisters, dementia or some colorful combination of the stuff."

"As to where and how it's mined?"

"Where: typically beneath the Frost Back Mountains. You can find them elsewhere, but the vast majority of it is in the Frost Backs. How: just like any other rock I suppose."

"Hmm," Duneyrr replied. "I thought you'd need some sort of special equipment to mine out such a dangerous mineral. But your people are immune anyway."

"We're resistant to it, not immune. The constant exposure has given dwarves high resistance to its effects and the resistance has been passed down through generations, but we aren't immune."

"Have you ever handled the stuff?"

"I've been around it but I've never actually touched the stuff." The chatter was silent for awhile as the only thing heard was the fire between them. Varric looked curiously at Duneyrr as he took another, much larger, sip of his alcoholic swill. Duneyrr really didn't fit the bill for a mage. He wasn't all that pompous (though he did fit the bill for being a bit of a dick at times), he was much more well built than one, fitting more of the warrior archetype, and had the height to match. Though he did keep himself well groomed.

"Hey, you asked me a few questions so why don't I ask you a few?" Varric offered.

"Why?"

"I didn't have to answer your questions, but I did anyway. I could've easily told you no...

"You could have," Duneyrr agreed.

"You also mentioned earlier about wanting to ask questions about my people, right?"

"Your offering to answer those questions if I answer yours?" Duneyrr deduced, Varric giving a slight nod in confirmation. "Go ahead," he said, sitting the bottle with a quarter of its contents left on the snowy ground beside him.

"In your college, what was the craziest thing that's happened?"

"In my time or in general? Because ever since I've joined the crazy things have calmed down."

"In general then," Varric said.

"Well," Duneyrr began, "a few years before I arrived a group of five students summoned a dremora in the basement. The thing killed them all."

"Is a dremora some kind of demon?" Varric asked.

"You could look at it in that way. They're nothing but entities filled with pure malice and bloodlust. I managed to beat one into submission once."

"That's actually kind of underwhelming," Varric replied.

"Meh."

"Anything else? What about in your time?"

"Literally when I first arrived. There's a story in it too."

"What's the story?" Varric asked, leaning in to listen.

"It's a bit of build up, but it pays off. Where do I begin..."

...

Winterhold used to be a large city before most of it fell into the Sea of Ghosts. It even used to house the country's High King, but the High King's throne would always shift from hold to hold. When I arrived it was little more than an abandoned ruin with a scant few people living in it. The only place of interest was the college and why most people passed through at all.

The locals didn't like magic all too much. They didn't trust it and they trusted those who used it less. As my friend Onmund once said 'If you can't swing it over your opponents head to crack their skull open, most Nords don't want anything to do with it'.

When I got to the bridge to the college I met Faralda who was guarding it from whomever may try to trespass on its grounds. She asked why I came, I told her to learn. She had me cast a summoning spell to prove my worth as a wizard.

Speeding up a bit, I met with the only other three students. A Dunmer named Brelyna Maryon, member of the noble house Telvani of Morrowind, J'Zargo, a Khajiit from Elseweyr – that's the name of the country – and Onmund, a regular farm hand from a family of Nords.

Our Teacher Tolfdir, led us to the ruins of mine and Onmund's ancestors for archeological purposes. We got there and started rummaging around for magical artifacts the college could study, but I wound up finding an amulet that trapped me in a ward. I wound up breaking the ward and tunneling through a blocked passage to a ceremony room. In that room I was approached by a projection of a monk of the Psijic order, and after that we wound up in a massive room of sarcophagi.

Draugr, an ancient undead nord, popped out of all of them. After defeating them I explored further in, fighting more of them and getting shot up by poison darts and smacked by traps. Eventually I made my way to the main chamber which housed the undead corpse of Jyrik Gauldurson. My teacher and I fought the draugr for almost an hour until we defeated him.

It was in that chamber we found something big, literally and figuratively. We had no idea what in Oblivion it was – we still don't – but took to calling it the eye of Magnus. After talking to the Archmage at the time we had the Eye moved to the college for further study...

...

"...and that was the birth of two adventures."

"Don't just quit on me now!" Varric exclaimed.

"Did you even believe half the shit coming out of my mouth?" Duneyrr asked.

Varric chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. "Well, not really, but kinda. I believe it happened, but it's just an over exaggeration of details. Like fighting undead and uncovering a massive orb? I know zombies are real, but this is a bit much. What's next, you made a deal with a god to become their champion?"

Duneyrr began to laugh for a few seconds and Varric couldn't tell if he actually found what he said funny or if there was another story behind it. He was hoping for the latter for writing material.

"Varric," he heard Cassandra's voice behind him. "Are you getting to know our new guest?"

"Oh, Seeker. Didn't hear you coming."

"What's he laughing about?" Cassandra asked.

"I don't know," Varric answered.

"Archmage," Cassandra called out to Duneyrr. "You are needed."

Duneyrr finished his laughing in time to respond to Cassandra. "What am I needed for?"

"There is... something of a nature you are best suited for."

"How important is it, really?" Duneyrr pressed, clearly not too eager to stand from his seat.

"If it was not that important the Herald would not be asking you to come with us," Cassandra answered almost bitterly.

"We're leaving this dingy tent-town?"

"I would not call it a tent town," Cassandra replied, staring at the seven buildings surrounding them and then glaring into the lower section which held another five, "but yes, we are leaving."

"So," the Archmage began, standing up to stretch his legs. "Where to?"

Solas hadn't slept at all last night. He had lost track of time due to his research and was partly scared to go back to sleep due to being taken hostage by a goddess of dreams and nightmares. While he had slept the nights prior, he always felt as if he could be taken again at a moment's notice. While still wanting to dive into ways to accomplish his goals without thinking too much on Vaermina, he looked into more of these 'Princes' and their domains of influence.

There was Hircine, lord of the hunt and father of the lycanthrope. Any were-creatures in Tamriel are a byproduct of him. Solas was astounded by the amount of were-beasts there were. Lions, bats, wolves, bears, vultures, and apparently Sharks and Crocodile lycanthropes existed. Ultimately irrelevant to his goal.

Next was Mehrunes-Dagon, prince of chaos, destruction, energy, ambition, change and revolution. Not even half a millennia ago he led an army to conquer the continent and drag it into his own pocket dimension, The Deadlands. He was stopped, but not killed. Potentially useful, but unlikely.

Then was a prince named Clavicus Vile, a prince of deals and pacts as well as trickery and wishes. There were quite a few artifacts associated with him, such as a masque that had some strange effect, almost like the ability to enchant others, as well as an axe used against lycans and a sword forged from powers stolen from him. A god of wishes could come in handy, but the fact he was a trickster who relied on a persons poor wording to screw them over made Solas think twice.

Lastly was a near-ancient being with no human form whatsoever. The book described him as appearing like abomination, sometimes taking the appearance of a mass of writhing tentacles in a pitch black void. Hermaeus-Mora, a lord of forbidden knowledge and memory who was known for scrying the tides of fate. He resided over a realm called Apocrypha which contained an infinite amount of books from various points in time. Literature from past, present and future.

Hermaeus Mora, this... foreign god of knowledge, he had never been introduced to Thedas before. He knows nothing about its history or culture as far as anyone knew. He nothing of the Evanuris, nothing of Tevinter, nothing of the Qun. Perhaps if Solas give to him knowledge only he has access to, Hermaeus could help him achieve his goals. But that would mean potentially selling out the secrets of his people, if not his people themselves.

These books stated over and over again that many of these princes could not and should not be trusted. The only few mentioned who were worthy of being titled the more 'benevolent' princes, were Azura who seemed to be caring of those who worshipped her and indifferent to the plights of those that don't, Malacath who was the ancestor of the orcs and demanded a strong and honorable culture for his people, in spite of the potential incestuous issues that come with only a single man being allowed to marry the women, and Meridia who protected the living and scorned the undead, with her only issues being a "Pompous and arrogant bitch who bloats her own ego through any means" according to the book.

The sentence he read drew his curiosity into the book. If he remembered the title of the book, it was named 'An In-Depth Guide to Daedric Princes'. The name of the author wasn't present on the front of the book, so he turned to the spine. The author's name was 'Duneyrr of Bruma'.

If solas wanted more information, especially if he left it out of the book, he would want to speak to the Archmage... who was not there. He would have to wait for them to cross paths again and that could be awhile.

So I realized after re-reading the previous chapters, is that I had Duneyrr teach Josephine magic. I left it on a cliff hanger and nothing happened. I did not do anything the next chapter and that is because I completely forgot I did that. So what I'm gonna do is go back through that chapter and either remove it or add onto it. I will also go through the first three as a whole and readjust Duneyrr's POV to 3rd person to fit with the story as a whole. However in some flashback scenes I will probably use 1st person like if Duneyrr is telling a story to someone.

The update to re-read the fic will come through next chapter.