Chapter 22: Justice Versus Mercy

The delegates for the General Assembly began entering Skyhold. They would be treated as guests from the moment they arrived, and the castle had more than enough space to accommodate a handful of ambassadors, but until each entity and nation that intended to send someone had done so, the Inquisition would not convene them all for a meeting of any significance. That did not stop the early arrivals from politicking and schmoozing, however.

"Blondie," Varric said, shaking Anders' hand as the famed Free Mage leader showed up. He gestured to Max. "Our beloved, infuriating Inquisitor. I think you two will find that you have a lot in common."

Max greeted Anders and shook his hand thoughtfully. He had seen portraits of Anders and Hawke, and had heard them described, but it was always different to see someone in person. There were things that even the world's best painter simply could not capture.

Max considered Anders' appearance. He was extremely well-dressed in his signature style—the paintings Max had seen had always depicted him with that feather-mantled coat—and he had recently decided, apparently, to start wearing a matching dark green hat with black feathers. He had folded its brim on three sides, producing an interesting effect. Max had seen hints of that hat style in Orlesian haberdashery, but Anders' hat had a certain elegant simplicity to it that Orlesian high fashion designers were incapable of, the lack of which tended to spoil their creations. Vivienne's personal style was radically different from Orlesian court fashion, a fact that sometimes surprised Max to consider, but it was also more elegant and had flair in just the right places without being overdone. Anders' look had that quality, and Vivienne, Josephine, and Dorian were studying him critically from a table.

But more important than his clothing was the fact that there was an enigma to the man, or perhaps a contradiction or conflict. A subtle tension and weariness shadowed his face in a way that no portrait that Max had ever seen had captured. Anders was older now, Max understood; he was two years shy of forty, and had been through far more over a span of years than even Max had.

This is the intellectual leader of the Free Mages, a voice for mage rights from years ago, Max thought. Hawke was the political and military genius who made it happen, but it was always said to be Anders who was the ideas person.

But he is also the inventor of blasting powder, the rocket, and the chemical rocket. He has used all three of those weapons in war. Perhaps that accounted for the weariness, sadness, and conflict in Anders' face. Max caught him glancing around Skyhold with a faint, haunted look of horror crossing his eyes. Considering that if your wife had struck this castle, none of this would exist and most of these people would be dead? Max wondered.

Anders finally saw Max staring at him. He turned around, the stark expression falling from his face, as a mild smile replaced it. "Inquisitor," he said. "Or Herald, if you prefer?"

"You can actually just call me Max. My friends do. I'd like to put the past between Skyhold and Kirkwall behind us where it belongs, and be friends."

Anders agreed. "It became apparent that you were not the... 'enemy' is not the right word... 'obstructionist' isn't quite apt either..."

"I know what you mean, though," Max said. He sat down on a bench and indicated that Anders could sit down too. The Free Mage leader did so. "Certain parts of the Inquisition had their agenda and the Free Marches had a different one, and rivalry took hold. I didn't agree with the goal of restoring the Orlesian Empire," he admitted. "My heart was with independence movements and benevolent nationalism."

"I'm not sure that nationalism is quite apt for VMTO," Anders said. "It's a Marcher organization, but my wife insisted that all the member-states would retain their national sovereignty. We both knew it wouldn't be possible to form the alliance otherwise. So... allied internationalism, I guess?"

"It's far better than empire," Max said. "I'm a Marcher myself, you know, and I agree with your and the Viscountess's conclusion that they would be easy prey for any imperial aggressor in Thedas—and, in fact, have been in the past." He gazed ahead. "Ferelden has also had imperial aspirations, it seemed."

"Yes," Anders said. "They have our blasting powder too. I guess I shouldn't say 'our,' since they did not obtain it through espionage. It isn't that difficult to make, quite honestly. But—yes, they took all that land in the Dales... until they gave it back at Marquise Briala's request."

"How much do you know about that?" Max asked carefully.

Anders gazed shrewdly at him. "Cait—my wife—and I figured out what had probably happened."

Max's heart sank. If the Inquisition and the Viscountess and Consort of Kirkwall figured it out independently, it's all but certain it's crossed the minds of Celene and Gaspard too, he realized. Briala would know that as well. Her best move will be to get her pieces lined up and declare independence. Take the initiative rather than waiting for Val Royeaux to do something against her. This war is coming fast, which means that we need to settle the Red Templars, Venatori, Corypheus, and get Leliana elected Divine.

With that, he wondered just how much Anders truly supported Grand Cleric Petrice. He had endorsed her several months ago with his wife, but Varric had been surprised that he had done so. It was possible his support was a formality or duty rather than being truly felt. He wouldn't switch to Leliana—that would offend the priest—but he also might not be a dedicated foe in the Divine stakes.

"Well, the situation escalated," Max continued after a few seconds' pause. "Other allies of Dales independence are consolidating their alliances." He sighed. "I am in favor of it—I still do not support a revived Orlesian Empire—but the prospect of war in the Dales does mean that the Inquisition has to finish its business rather fast to avoid being caught in the middle. My advisors aren't going to thwart events in the Dales now, but... this situation does make me better understand why they thought as they did. In any case," he concluded, "I think the internal tension and hostilities in the Inquisition have subsided. It was a shock to us all to discover how badly we'd been infiltrated. Corypheus took advantage of our divisions and distrust to install agents for my advisors, knowing, apparently, that they would let these agents act without telling me everything—or even knowing themselves what these people were truly up to."

"He is good at sowing and manipulating division for his own advantage," Anders said with sudden savagery. His face contorted in anger. "We didn't realize at the time that it was him, but he had a foothold in my mind for a while—we think he was trying to suborn me to use the Free Mages for his purposes—and it contributed to driving a wedge between Caitlyn and me for a time. She was taking some very harsh measures on the domestic front against the anti-war movement, measures that I thought were... unhelpful... but the way that I expressed my discontent probably made the situation worse. And then the Venatori, who had obviously already allied with him, brainwashed several score of the Free Mages into believing their ugly views and eventually deserting."

Max did not know what to say. He felt embarrassed to have heard the personal detail about the troubles in Hawke and Anders' marriage and the fact that Corypheus had been a contributing factor. But Anders had chosen to share this. Finally he said, "Then we both have personal reasons to want him dead."

Anders gave him a bitter, sideways smile. "You have no idea. Or maybe you do. You know Caitlyn thought she had killed him in the Vimmarks."

"I've heard about that, yes."

"His soul—as ugly as it sounds on my tongue to say he has one, even the wickedest people do—jumped from his dying body to that of a heavily Tainted Grey Warden who was with us."

"Carver Hawke said as much."

"Oh," Anders said. "I didn't realize you knew all about it already. But—yes, we definitely both have personal reasons to want him dead."

Max suddenly got up. "Get rested," he urged Anders, "and settle in. I have a feeling the Inquisition will be needing you a lot in the coming weeks," he said with a wry smile of his own, "but that's just us being demanding. I'm afraid you will have to bear with us."

Anders chuckled. "I came here because I wanted to contribute."

"There will be plenty of opportunities for that."

Later, Varric suggested that he would like to catch up with Anders personally. He urged Max and Dorian to join in at the Herald's Rest Tavern.

Varric was a masterful drinker, and Dorian could hold his own too, albeit with the sorts of elaborately named and strikingly colored Tevinter concoctions that he was accustomed to having. Some contained ingredients that were even more dangerous than alcohol in large quantities, such as aqua magus, which contained lyrium. But he could handle it, so it was left to young Max—and Anders, too, had only a single pint of small beer—to hold to moderation.

"I'm curious, Blondie," Varric said. "It doesn't surprise me that the Free Mages picked you to be their advocate, but it does surprise me that you agreed to come, or that Hawke allowed you to."

Anders grimaced. "She doesn't dictate my decisions like that, but you're right that she didn't want me to."

"Uh-oh," Dorian observed.

Anders waved his hand. "We'll be fine. As long as..." He broke off. "We'll be fine," he decided. "But she wasn't happy about my decision to come." His gaze became haunted again. "I had to be here," he finally said. "For multiple reasons. To advocate for the Free Mages in this Assembly, yes, but... other reasons too." He regarded his mug, then continued to speak instead of sipping from it. "Caitlyn and I have unleashed a truly terrible kind of war on Thedas. It was necessary, I know," he said, holding up his hand as Varric opened his mouth, "but it was still terrible. And it didn't end with the weapons we used in Tantervale."

"You knew it wouldn't, Blondie," Varric said.

"Seeing something is different from predicting it." For some reason, this sentence made him grimace again, but he shook it off quickly. "Our rockets have advanced. They can now travel almost two miles horizontally... and vertically, well..." He shuddered faintly, breaking off. "I don't suppose I need to say. We all know what could've happened." He sighed. "What will happen someday, to some place. I'm just glad it isn't here. And this is really just the beginning. Someday..." He gazed at them with weary brown eyes. "You know, it's possible to create movement with heat. Not explosions, just ordinary heat."

"Heating air causes it to expand," Dorian said. "This is well known in Tevinter. Perhaps knowledge has not advanced—"

Anders shook his head. "It's obvious but not formalized. We figured it out when we were first developing stationary bombs with blasting powder. But what could be done with fire runes inside a confined chamber, with an exhaust outlet... My point is, someday these bombs will probably be able to travel unimaginable distances. And that's really just the beginning of what is possible by harnessing heat. That's what the rockets do, after all. The explosion is, at the core, caused by super-heated gas that ruptures its pressure chamber. And that is what I have unleashed on Thedas."

"What choice did you have? You and Hawke were, quite frankly, going to fight to a stalemate without the black powder, and you know it," Varric said.

Anders nodded. "It was necessary for the cause of mage rights. But it has changed the world, and..." He finally took a sip. "Life goes on. We won that war, but time did not stop, and neither did the evolution of invention. The world has changed, and it's become more dangerous in some ways. That means we can't stop fighting for what's right. And that is why I am here."

"I wish I could have fought with the Free Mages in the war. The other war, the last war," Max clarified bitterly. "But I always supported the cause. And I've taken command of the Inquisition, and Leliana and the others have become very serious about removing bad actors and checking their darkest impulses. The Inquisition is a force for good now."

Anders gave Max a sideways smile. "I wouldn't have come if I hadn't realized that the Inquisition was trying to be a force for good again. I think your idea of a General Assembly is a great one. But I think, too, that the world I've helped to create with my weapons inventions will need innovations in ideas too. People need to start thinking differently, cast off certain old ideas that have caused harm, misery, and tyranny for ages. That old, bad set of ideas mixed with rockets, blasting powder, and whatever else can be done with that?" He shook his head. "We have power that I'm not sure we're ready for, but we do have it. There is no putting this particular demon—or spirit, really, since it's good and bad—back into the urn it came out of, so that means we have to get ready for the power we now have, and fast. Otherwise the new world will become a horror." He sipped his drink, seriousness and firm resolve filling his face. "And I feel a personal duty to help achieve that end, since—more than anyone else—I unleashed this new type of war on Thedas."

Dorian smiled. "Then we are all here on common purpose. Even Varric, though he may be loath to admit it."

Anders managed a weak smile of his own as he raised a toast. "I know Varric and I know that he gives a damn about a lot more than just fame and money. He just doesn't want to admit it, as you say."

"All right now, Blondie, Sparkles—" Varric began to object.

Max raised his eyebrows. "It sounds right to me, my friend."

Anders' smile became broader. "Then here's a toast to a better way."

They clinked their vessels together. Max felt hope soar in his heart. I wanted to make a difference, he thought, reflecting on his dreams before becoming Herald or Inquisitor and his frustration that his Circle had stayed out of the Mage-Templar War. I wanted to matter to Thedas. There was a time when it seemed that the Inquisition wouldn't let me, but things have changed.

He gazed at Dorian, who was also smiling mildly. His amatus voiced the thoughts that were passing through Max's own mind.

"Thedas—not excepting Tevinter—has been stagnant and resistant to change for far too long," Dorian declared. "Fighting with swords, arrows, and basic magic against cannons. Playing 'Games' that may, sometimes, achieve something, but always leave a trail of blood, bodies, and ruined lives in their wake. Establishing rulers based on who their ancestors were rather than what they are. Crushing talent and industry because it doesn't have the 'right bloodline.' My homeland is particularly guilty of this," he acknowledged.

"The Venatori have exploited that to terrible effect," Max said.

Dorian nodded, sipping his drink. "Which is why it's crucial that we set up a new order rather than just rebuilding the old one. They could have been the beginning of a decent and much-needed movement if they hadn't... taken the path that they did. There is a reason their message appealed to so many. We do not need a harsh reaction against that idea, just a repudiation of Corypheus."

"The Lucerni need to take the lead," Max advised him. "The Venatori have destroyed their credibility. Someone else has to pick up that ideal, someone who hasn't lost all their moral authority."

He toasted to that. "From your lips to the Maker's ears. I'm on it."

"You need to become openly antislavery," Anders cut in.

"That will be a challenge in the Senate," Dorian said, "but—you're right."

"The Maker did not create any of His children to be slaves. If foxes and wolves are born free, people certainly are." Anders smiled wryly. "I—someone—once referred to my pet cat as a 'slave.' This 'someone' was a Fade spirit," he continued, "so he didn't fully understand. But even our pets are freer than Tevinter slaves. We serve them, not the reverse," he joked, "and they certainly retain independent thought and emotion! And people who abuse dogs and cats are regarded with hatred and contempt in the South."

"It is so in Tevinter as well," Dorian said, "and yes, I am aware of the inconsistency between this attitude and the attitude that it is acceptable to blood-thrall, abuse, or rape a slave."

"I don't know what arguments would work best in the Senate," Anders said, "but your Lucerni need to take the plunge. One thing Caitlyn and I learned during the fight for mage rights was that someone has to take that dangerous, scary first step, and say what always seemed too shocking to be said." He smiled. "But after you do say it, you may be surprised about how many people secretly agreed with you, or at least will hear you out."

"Many magisters do not agree," Dorian warned, "and will not be persuaded. I am sure there are some who privately hate slavery but are afraid to speak out against it, but you need to understand that there are a great many, likely a majority, who do indeed see themselves as superior beings to others, and think that gives them the right to enslave."

"We fought a war because there were people who would rather split from the Chantry than accept mage rights," Anders said. "I do understand."

"You say that very blithely. Tevinter cannot afford a civil war over slavery at the moment. We are barely holding on against the Qunari."

Anders stared hard at him. "And how much manpower has Tevinter wasted because of slavery? How many mages might have been able to help the war effort if their masters were not forcing them to turn their homes into jewel boxes with magical items? Would they really choose to waste those mages' talents that way and eventually fall to the Qunari rather than freeing them?"

"In some cases, yes," Dorian said cynically. "People can be stupid as hell."

Anders scowled. "The waste goes beyond wasting magic. How many good soldiers might there have been if they weren't being made to clean magisters' robes instead, or hoeing fields, or being slaughtered for entertainment in gladiator combat? Or inventors, matching or exceeding the Qunari, if they were allowed to put their talent to use?"

"There are also many altus magisters in the Senate who would regard it as a shameful thing to rely on 'mundane' weaponry."

Anders scoffed. "That, after what Cait and I did? Tell them this, then: I'm not giving out schematics, but I will say that our bombs and rockets use magic for enhancement and stabilization. They wouldn't be as effective without it. So they're not 'mundane weapons.' And really, this is asinine. Outside the Fade, there is no material object that is purely magic. The robes on their backs are mundane objects enhanced with magic!"

"You're right," Dorian conceded, "but I'm just telling you, these are some of the most stubborn, pigheaded—"

"They are going to lose their war if they don't snap out of it. We were going to fight to a stalemate if we'd been forced to rely on battlemagic alone, and our enemy didn't even have cannons," Anders snapped. "But magic combined with physical weaponry has incredible power, and you'll only have that if you let people use their Maker-given talents to experiment and invent. They can only do that if they are truly free and do not fear retribution from a 'master' for false starts and unfruitful ideas. That happens in the process of invention. Believe me, I know."

Varric hefted his weapon pointedly. "You're right about that."

"So if these pro-slavery magisters won't be swayed by the moral argument, try the practical one. Otherwise they all face slavery under the Qun. And everyone knows what the Qunari do to mages." He scowled. "And then VMTO will be drawn into the war. It's what we're founded for, but let me tell you this. If the Qunari conquer Tevinter and then invade the Free Marches yet again, VMTO will beat them, but we'll also reconstruct Tevinter our way."

Dorian and Max were shocked silent at this naked threat.

"Maker's fucking breath, Anders!" Varric exclaimed.

He regarded them all coolly. "Tevinter will have to change. The question is whether it'll do it itself, or whether its neighbors will make it change."

Dorian was regarding Anders with a new light of both wariness and respect. "Message received. I do agree with you that it is well past time for my country to change. But you are not part of the Tevinter political scene, and I'm not sure you truly appreciate how challenging it is, despite your experiences fighting for mage rights."

"And I'm not sure you appreciate how deeply the Free Marches will resent it if we have to beat back a Qunari invasion that occurred because your country would rather die than adapt," Anders retorted. "If Tevinter can't—or, rather, won't—hold them back, it will become our problem, and we will deal with it in our own way, without reference to Tevinter's 'challenges.' In fact, Tevinter's politics have already been a problem for us in some ways. Slaver gangs prey on our cities. It was a major obstacle for mage rights to have Tevinter blood mages and slavers prowling around. I know someone from Kirkwall, a former slave, who competed in a Tevinter arena. He's a fantastic warrior. But he opposed mage rights for a long time, and would never, ever fight for Tevinter, because of what his former master did to him."

Varric raised his eyebrows at this. "Blondie, standing up for Fenris?"

"Fenris and I have had our difficulties," Anders said defensively, "some of which were my fault, but if you live through a terrible war and lose your moral innocence, you start to see a lot of things differently. I'm not a twenty-six-year-old hothead anymore. I have a family, Cait and I have a legacy—both good and bad—from the war, and we have both realized that our fight is not over; it's just different." He turned back to Dorian. "Tevinter is struggling against the Qunari because it is misusing and wasting its national resources, due to this idea that the only way to be 'great' is to bring back the glory days of the ancient past. The world has changed."

Max agreed with Anders' words, but he felt that he had to defend Dorian, who was taking on a rather hunted look. "We know," he said, putting his hand on top of Dorian's on the tabletop. He squeezed Dorian's hand in support. "We're working for the same goal of a better world, not trying to restore the parts of the past that are rightly dead, but stepping into the future."

Varric tried to be the peacemaker. "We've fought a lot of the Inquisition inner circle over that very point, Blondie," he said to Anders. "Inky here really does want to step into the future. Certain others wanted to rebuild the Orlesian Empire, when that too is dead and can't—and shouldn't—be resurrected."

Anders nodded. "Cait and I had figured that out," he said with a return of that wry smile. "All right. I may have been too hard on you, Dorian."

"No," Dorian said, "you weren't. The fact that it was difficult for me to hear does not mean that your words were too hard. It means, instead, that I need to toughen up and listen to them."

Anders sighed. "That said, I don't know exactly what your faction is facing in the Tevinter Senate. I shouldn't act as if I do. But I do know something about taking a dangerous, radical, idealistic stand against a resolute opponent." He raised his eyebrows. "Sebastian Vael is Cait's ally now, however."

"I very much doubt most of the pro-slavery Senators will become allies of abolition," Dorian said, "but it's possible there will be a few who see the light."

"Well, what does 'Lucerni' mean?" Max joked supportively. "And you saw the light. If you could, the possibility exists for some. Sometimes a basically decent person with a good moral compass just... has a blind spot. And yes, slavery is a pretty big and ugly blind spot to have, but so was the Rite of Tranquility... so was mage oppression... and people who were basically good people, but who just wrongly believed that these things were 'necessary' and could be done 'compassionately,' came to change their minds. Like you, Dorian. You once believed that slavery could be compassionate if someone was a 'good master,' and you changed your mind. The fact that you wanted to be kind meant you already respected enslaved people's personhood in a way, and that's the necessary first step to becoming abolitionist, be that for slavery or for Circles—seeing the oppressed people as people, who can suffer, and whose suffering matters. Some magisters won't have that, it's true... but some will. So if someone does have basic moral decency, I think there's hope. Opinions aren't fixed in stone."

"That is true." Dorian raised his glass again. "To freedom, then."

"To the future," Max added, lifting his own.

"To change," Varric said.

Anders clinked his drink in the toast. "Freedom, the future, change, and justice throughout Thedas."

Max noticed that Varric raised his eyebrows in surprise at Anders' contribution to the toast, and he wondered why, but he resolved to ask later.

After that, Max, Dorian, and Varric received a message at the doors of Skyhold that Cullen wanted to see them. He had a lead about Samson and Samson's second, a Red Templar named Carroll.

They were, by now, all familiar with the sordid history of the Red Templar leadership in the Mage-Templar War, but Varric took the opportunity of the long walk to Cullen's office to remind them.

"Carroll led the Annulment of the Dairsmuid Circle," he said. "He had been appointed 'Knight-Commander of Hasmal' when the false Chantry had illegally occupied it, so he was put in charge of the mass murder in Rivain. I regret that the First Enchanter's rockfall didn't kill him. She—First Enchanter Rivella, daughter of the pirate captain—took out the whole Tower with a rockfall when it became apparent that they were doomed. Got the children out, at least." Varric glowered. "She presumably died thinking that she'd taken the bastard out with her. A damn shame that she didn't, but we can finish it."

"And we all know about Samson," Max said darkly.

"Oh, yes. On that note... it would not surprise me if Blondie wants to go along when we hunt him down. He has unfinished business with Samson too."

"From the war? I know he was involved in the Starkhaven Annulment."

"He was named Knight-Divine of the fake Chantry, and, yes, took part in that, but his business with Hawke and Blondie went further back than that by several years. I'll let Blondie explain. Come on, let's see Curly."

Cullen had several pieces of information to provide them. First, Dagna had an idea for destroying Samson's armor. "She feels terrible about the notes that Painter stole," he had said, "and wants to be useful against red lyrium."

According to Dagna, there had been a Tranquil named Maddox who also participated in making the armor, and he knew things about it that even she did not. It appeared that Elthina—or perhaps Samson himself—had not fully trusted a renegade dwarf, despite her genius. Perhaps it was because she was not Andrastian, if Elthina had been the decider; perhaps it was because she had been interested in red lyrium for the science rather than an ideology, if Samson had decided. Whatever the reason, she knew a lot about the armor, but not everything. This Maddox was believed to hold the missing links to destroying the armor that was protecting Samson and preventing him from succumbing to red lyrium like every other Red Templar.

His second, Carroll, was also at large. Max recalled their operations in the Emprise du Lion to destroy the red lyrium quarries there. Carroll had become little more than a mining foreman—what a comedown for a schismatic Knight-Commander! he had thought—but he had somehow received word of the Inquisition's approach and had fled the scene before the troops arrived. But he was alive; the traitor Abernale Harish had been found with a relatively recent letter from him.

The location from which Carroll had sent that letter was untraceable, but Cullen had another idea for drawing the Red Templar out.

"The Red Templars sent reinforcements to the Emerald Graves to protect their operation there," he said, "but Fairbanks and Monette have captured them. They were just going to execute them, but we could use them first."

Max had been rather shocked at the dark thing Cullen seemed to be implying. The commander instantly realized what he was thinking and clarified hastily. "I don't mean torture them," he said. "At least... not in a 'traditional' sense. There's no need to inflict pain on them with tools or weapons. But deny them red lyrium, and they'll talk soon enough."

"Is there no other way of tracking down Carroll?" Max asked, still uneasy.

"Not at the moment." Cullen grimaced. "I'm sorry, Inquisitor. I don't like it either. But we need to stop their leaders. If we cut off Carroll, Samson, Calpernia, and deal with the Orlesian Wardens, Corypheus will be forced to come out of his hiding-hole and confront you. Right now he is hiding behind his lieutenants."

"The game of chess again," Max said with a sigh. "The king can move in any direction but only one square at a time, so he hides behind other pieces. Very well. Have Fairbanks and Monette send them."

The Red Templar captives were imprisoned in a high-security part of the prison. Dagna's work with corpse hearts—which she had since advanced to discover that revenant hearts actually worked best of all for countering red lyrium, since they housed wisps of the strongest earthbound spirits—was invaluable in warding off the vile substance. In the meantime, Cullen resolutely held the line about denying them any form of lyrium, even the blue kind.

Cole spoke his objections to this treatment. "This is unkind," he said to Max and Dorian. "They are dead inside. It killed them; they just do not know it. It always kills them in the end, but they suffer for now. It would be better if they died entirely."

"They will," Max said. "And I'll have it done compassionately. But we need information from them first. They know where Carroll, their leader, is. We have to stop him so that he doesn't hurt more people." Max had found that speaking to Cole in terms of the hurt done to people was often the best way to persuade him to accept hard acts.

"This may be, but you do an unkind thing to them in the name of being kind to others. It is still an unkind thing."

"The world is like that, Cole," Dorian said.

The spirit boy frowned. "The world is cruel."

"Yes," Max admitted. "It can be."

"I came to the world from the Fade to add kindness to it."

"And you're doing that in the Inquisition. But sometimes we have to make other decisions, Cole. It's sad but it's just the way it is. We need to keep them alive a bit longer until they talk. We will be merciful when the time comes."

Cole was dissatisfied, but he managed to accept this. He disappeared in a silent vanishing.

Max turned to Dorian. "He's not completely wrong, though. I'm still troubled by this deed, necessary though it may be."

Dorian nodded, coming closer and giving him a gentle embrace. "I know. I feel the same." He kissed Max's cheek and gave him a sad smile. "It won't last much longer, though. They'll talk when they know it will end their suffering."

Anders was a Spirit Healer along with his many other talents, and Max was deeply relieved when he took an interest in the infirmary at Skyhold. It was almost exclusively mundane medicine. There were no Spirit Healers among the spare handful of mages who had chosen to remain with the Inquisition rather than returning with the Free Mages, and only two who knew any healing magic at all. Their spells were gravely insufficient for the kinds of wounds that soldiers often sported. It was a wonder, as well, that Skyhold hadn't faced an outbreak of some sort of infectious illness. Dorian, Leliana, Josephine, and Vivienne had been accustomed to cleanliness and sanitary accommodations, as had Max due to being a Circle inmate, and it was largely due to their fastidiousness and taste for luxury that Skyhold was kept in a civilized state rather than falling into the kind of disease-breeding sty that soldiers' quarters tragically often did. The infirmary was kept rigidly separate after a brief stint of treatment in a shockingly public location in the gardens.

Anders' magical assistance seemed almost boundless. He had almost a preternatural ability to find the infirmary in the first place, and when he was among the sick and wounded people, he cast mass healing spells that could target multiple patients at once. Waves of blue magic poured from his hands to a degree that stunned Max. Surely he was burning up his mana doing this? But he seemed to have a bottomless pool of it, turning his back and renewing himself in a private corner after just a few moments.

None of the other healers had an objection to this or any sign of jealousy. They were all just glad to see more patients healed, more lives and limbs saved, than they could have managed alone. Max hoped that Anders would either stay for the duration of the war or would substitute another Spirit Healer if he did return to Kirkwall. Anders' addition to the Inquisition, however long it might last, was a blessing.

But problems unfortunately arose the day that Anders and Cole appeared in the infirmary at the same time.

"They are going to die. You are being cruel to them."

"They're alive! You don't know that they're going to die. Where there is life, there is hope!"

"Not always. With red lyrium, there is no hope."

"They don't have red lyrium sickness! They have blood poisoning—"

"It has spread. Their blood is dirty, filled with death—"

Anders snarled a feral hiss. "If you don't put that dagger away, Maker help me, I will—"

Max, who had been passing by the doorway when he overheard this fight, decided he had better intervene immediately. He stepped into the room and saw, as he had expected, Anders and Cole facing off across from a pair of sickbeds with blotchy-faced patients in a deep sleep.

He put his hands up. "Cole! Anders! No one will attack the other! This is a hospital!"

Anders glared at him. "Tell that to him! He seems to think it is an execution chamber!"

Cole winced, drawing back. "No. They are dying. I do not... execute. I help. I show mercy—"

"You would kill them when they could still be saved! It may not be execution, but it is murder—oh, does that word bother you?" Anders mocked as Cole winced again.

Max interceded again. "Cole, I've told you to give the Healers a chance before putting anyone to death. That includes Anders while he is here. If he thinks they can be saved, let him try."

Cole looked as if he wanted to protest, but he submitted. "They will suffer and then die."

"You do not know that," Anders snarled. "You can't see into the future."

"I overheard 'blood poisoning,'" Max said to Anders.

He nodded. "It's unfortunately rather severe sepsis, but they still have a fifty-fifty chance if I get to work on them."

Max's decision was made at once. "Then do it."

He let Anders take over the patients' treatment as he hurried Cole out of the infirmary. As he did, they came face to face with Varric and Solas. Max stifled a swear. There was no possible pair that would inflame the situation more.

"I heard raised voices," Varric said. "Blondie's specifically, and yours too, Kid."

Solas frowned. "What is the Healer attempting?"

"He is attempting to save two very sick patients," Max said. "He knows his business. Let's all leave him to it."

"Is it that he is truly that good at the subject," Solas suggested darkly, "or that he has unrealistic hopes and too much confidence in his abilities?"

Max suppressed another swear.

Varric drew back. "All right, now, Chuckles, I know you and the Kid have a weird thing between yourselves, but that's no reason to disparage Blondie. You're not a Healer. He is."

Solas stood behind Cole. "Anders is an inventor, a Healer, a political leader, and a war leader. All of these roles may have given him the idea that he can play puppeteer over other people's lives."

"What about over their deaths, Chuckles? Like Cole wants to do? What about that?"

"Anders is far guiltier of that than Cole is."

"Why are you siding with this?" Varric exclaimed. "Blondie wants to give them a chance to live. Maybe they'll die anyway, but what's the bloody harm in giving them a chance?"

"Cole sees things that mortals cannot. He can see when someone's body is failing. Anders can cast diagnostic spells, but it is not the same." He gave Varric a level stare. "And the other one is too heavily influenced now to have the same clarity of sight that Cole does."

Varric gave him the side-eye. "You're really not making his case by saying that he can see inside people's bodies without their permission, just so you know. And I don't even want to know how you know—" He broke off. "You know what, never mind. You and the Kid just leave Anders alone." Without another word, even to the bewildered Max, he stormed off.

While they waited for the prisoners to give up Carroll, Leliana announced that the Inquisition had gotten all the information that it could out of Guinevere Volant and Abernale Harish. The two spies had been surprisingly willing to give up the other members of the conspiracy. To Max's horror—but not entirely his surprise—those two alone had named fifteen other conspirators in the Inquisition, insinuated into the troops that were stationed throughout Thedas. When questioned, those agents had given up another thirty names. At least half of these were confirmed Venatori.

"No wonder we had a problem," Max muttered. He turned to Leliana. "We've confirmed the treason of these people? I don't want people put to death if they are actually innocent. Sometimes a malefactor will give up the names of innocents just out of spite, or vengeance, or because they had reason to believe that giving up any names would result in mercy."

"We've investigated it," Leliana said. "They are all guilty. Unfortunately. Those who were confirmed Venatori will be executed, with your permission. Those who were 'only' working with Volant for her own scheme, but who we could not prove were Venatori, will be imprisoned for the duration of the war."

Max sighed. "That's what I would've done too. Permission granted."

But this meant that the time had come for Volant and Harish themselves to be put to death. Now that it had come to it, Max found himself feeling queasy about it.

It's one thing to condemn someone to death in the heat of anger in the middle of a crisis, he thought. It's another to follow through when the crisis has passed.

But I will not defer this ugly task to anyone else. I condemned them to death with my own words. If I cannot carry out the deed, if I have to turn aside and make someone else do it, perhaps that means it shouldn't be done.

He shared that sentiment with Dorian, Varric, Rainier, and Anders over drinks. Varric had invited Cassandra to sit down with them, which Max approved. It appeared that their relationship, whatever its nature was, had recovered from the body-blow of the "Inquisition schism" a while back. They all agreed with Max when he expressed his thoughts about the grim acts that he would soon undertake.

"I had to make many such hard decisions as the Right Hand of the Divine," Cassandra said. "It was not easy, and sometimes I did show mercy because I could not go through with the act after all."

"I know all about feeling bad about killing," Rainier grunted.

"I had to order my own brother's death because he was too far gone in red lyrium," Varric said glumly. Cassandra put a gloved hand on his shoulder.

Anders then spoke up. "This is the same view my wife and I have. We lit the wicks of our rockets that night outside Tantervale for that reason. Including..." He sighed. "Including the ones that struck the Tantervale Chantry. The poison gas ones. It felt wrong to make anyone else bear that."

They all gazed glumly into their drinks.

"And there was another major instance," Anders continued. "Inq—Max. Varric tells me you wanted to know why I had it in for Samson personally. I don't know if this ever reached Ostwick's Circle—the war itself erupted very soon afterward, and although this was a horrible event at the time, the battles that followed made it seem..." He broke off, shaking his head. "Satinalia 9:36. Do they talk about that? The violent mage-hating mob that rampaged through town, murdering civilians thought to be sympathetic to the cause, before trying to storm the Keep?"

"I have heard of it," Max said. "One of the major lead-up hostilities."

Anders sighed. "It was horrible at the time, as I said, but yes, the war itself was so much worse that it has become just a 'lead-up hostility.' But at any rate, Samson was one of the Red Templars leading that. The other was named Mettin, and he died by committing suicide in a jail cell before the war even began. Samson escaped, though, and I want his head for it. That and what he did in the Starkhaven Circle, of course."

Max was silent as he contemplated this history.

"And the reason this relates to performing executions oneself is that it was a... tragically... pivotal moment for us in that regard. My wife gave the order to put down the mob to the last person, no exceptions, no mercy. They were all guilty of murder—they'd killed eight hundred innocent people—but there were two hundred of them, and not a single one except Samson ultimately survived. She gave a no-quarter order."

Dorian's eyes grew wide at that. "Maker. I didn't realize that. I'd heard of this too, but I just assumed that they had fought to the death."

"Some did. Others didn't. But since they were guilty of murder and treason, they were going to die anyway. It was just done that night." Anders sipped his drink. "I suppose in a way, that might have made it easier. Our blood was up. Even lighting the rockets at Tantervale... we had just fought battles, and we knew that if we didn't deploy the worst weapons we had, we would run out of 'conventional' rockets quite soon, and the enemy would know it when impacts stopped and they would've concluded they could outlast us. Which they probably could have." He gazed down at the table. "Didn't make it easy. But it had to be done, I think. I thought so then and I still do."

Max nodded, taking his point. "These agents manipulated the Inquisition into doing some terrible things, and the outcome it would have produced if they'd been successful would have been even more terrible than that. It would have meant a war encompassing much of Thedas, and a wholly unnecessary one at that. There was no inherent reason for the Inquisition and the Free Marches to be enemies. Geopolitical rivals, perhaps... but geopolitical rivals can still work together against a common foe. Our problems went beyond that. We nearly came to war. That's enmity. We were just manipulated into being so, and those two are responsible for a lot of that."

"And for that, they must die," Cassandra said. "If it were unintentional, merely acts of incompetence, it could be forgiven. But it was not. Harish was serving Corypheus, and Volant may have been too, but at a minimum she wanted to destroy the Free Marches with war."

Anders agreed. "They manipulated us too. They manipulated Caitlyn. She hates being manipulated."

"That is very good to know," Cassandra said tartly, "since she has an arsenal that could unleash a hell from the Void on Thedas."

Anders gave her a level stare. "We're intimately aware of what almost happened, and we've contemplated it and vowed to make sure it does not happen again. That doesn't mean I won't be glad to see the people who set it in motion hang for it."

Max was surprised at how bloodthirsty Anders could still be. This was the conflicting part of him that Max had noticed when the Healer had first come to Skyhold. From a purely moral standpoint, Anders regretted bringing terrible new weapons into the world, but he also believed that it had been necessary. Similarly, he regretted executions, but sometimes he thought them necessary and just. Max found that he understood that conflict quite well now.

Dorian, Maker bless him, had exactly the right thing to say. "Well, I won't be glad to see it, in the sense of taking pleasure in it—"

Anders grimaced. "You're right. I won't be, well, gleeful."

"But... there will be a certain satisfaction in seeing justice done," Dorian said. "A grim satisfaction, yes, but satisfaction still."

An odd look came over Anders' face as he and Varric exchanged pointed looks. There it was again, the concept of justice.

Dorian continued. "We are compelled to show mercy when we can, but we also must try to uphold justice. Those two almost started a catastrophic war for their own ugly reasons, and they do have the deaths of innocents on their hands. The soldiers killed at the gates of Wycome, no matter which side they fought for. Quite probably some of the Wycome civilians, riled to treason against Duke Antoine. Even Briony and her Templars aboard the Golden Sunburst, who were just doing what they thought was an act of 'strength' for the Inquisition. All those people died because of Harish and Volant's manipulation, and most of them did not deserve death."

Anders spoke up bitterly. "Our Guard-Captain and General, Aveline Hendyr, once said something like 'some die who deserve life, but we cannot give it to them,' and urged us to be careful about whom we condemned to death. But," he reflected, "that was in the context of Cullen's lyrium addic... shit." He grimaced.

Varric instantly spoke up. "It's all right, Blondie. We all know about it. You didn't give up his personal secrets. In fact, Inky has offered some advice that I think has helped our Curly to begin withdrawing."

Anders raised his eyebrows. "Has he?" He managed a weak smile for Max. "Good. You did more than we could do for him, in that case."

"Anyway," Dorian went on, "Anders, what your general said was wise, but she didn't say 'don't condemn anyone to death.' A general wouldn't. She just wanted to draw a distinction between someone like Cullen, dying of an addiction because the war effort demanded too much of him, versus convicted traitors and spies with blood on their hands. Expediency versus justice."

Anders smiled.

"And it'll be up to the Maker what happens to them eternally."

Max turned to Dorian, glad that his amatus had spoken. "You are going to do well representing the Imperial Chantry in the Assembly, love," he said. "You're a true voice of morality and... faith, too. And a damned good politician," he said with a flirtatious wink. "Have you ever considered saying to the Void with what your wretched father wants, and pursuing a career there?"

Dorian smirked back. "It has crossed my mind."

Cassandra raised her eyebrows. "Well. That is a matter to consider in the future. For now..."

Varric lifted his mug. "In the words of our illustrious Inquisitor at a different toast—to the future."

They all raised their glasses.

Even after the discussion with his friends, Max knew that there was no way to soften death by execution—as there shouldn't be. It should never be something done lightly. He knew that.

It was still a grim moment, holding the very lives of two people in his hands. He had done so many times before, of course, in his role as Inquisitor and Herald. But there was a difference between making decisions at the war table for troops and personally carrying out the deaths of specific people, people whose names and faces he knew.

It had to be done, of course. He couldn't back down now. The Inquisitor had to show that he was strong, after all the attacks on him as "weak," and the Inquisition had to make a statement utterly disavowing the actions of these two that had nearly led to ruinous war. As he stood at the gallows with the lever in hand, giving the two condemned the chance to say their last words, he gazed up at the cloudy sky—but only for a moment. There was no looking away from this. He looked back at them, determined to make himself meet their eyes before the hoods were put over their heads.

"Maker turn His gaze upon you both," he said, meaning every word of it.

He also would not close his ears to the sounds. Maker, the sounds. Max knew the horrible sounds of war and death now, but the sounds of death by hanging were horrible in their own way. The clink of machinery, the crackling of wood, the brief whoosh, the snaps—

Max sighed, casting his gaze down after that. At least there had been snaps of bone. He had personally vowed to cast gravitational warps on them to crush their skulls if they had not died at once in the drop, but they had.

He gazed out at his friends, all them with grim expressions on their faces. Most of them also appeared to understand that this was necessary, though, and their faces also bore looks of sad satisfaction.

But there was one exception: the milk-pale boy in a huge straw hat.

Max let Cole have his say as the troops took the bodies down to be burned. He supposed it was to be expected that a Spirit of Compassion would disapprove of this.

There was one thing he did not want to hear from Cole, however. It isn't that I want to hide from what I have done, he told himself. I just don't want to intrude on the privacy of their final thoughts.

"If you were... with them... just before they died, please do not tell me," he told Cole quietly as they headed back inside the castle. "They have the right to their last thoughts."

"You have told me this before," Cole said. "I was with them, yes."

"I'm glad you could... help them, then." He meant that; he was glad. "But they had to die, Cole."

Cole gazed upward at Max with sorrow and judgment in his face. "They didn't. You condemned them to die. You didn't have to. You could have shown mercy."

"Theoretically, I could have," Max said, unsure if Cole could understand the point he was going to make, but figuring it was worth a try. "But the consequences would have been rather bad. A lot of people in Thedas are still very angry and distrustful of the Inquisition because of what those two did. We had to show that we disavowed it and would punish those who did it."

"You could have done those things while keeping them alive."

"Not really. And they had innocent blood on their hands, Cole. You want to be compassionate to everyone, because even though you have manifested as a human, you still formed as Spirit of Compassion. It's your nature. But... some people don't deserve as much compassion as others."

"Is that your judgment to make?" Cole said quietly but poignantly.

Max blanched. Cole had cut right to the heart of his deepest insecurity, whether—even now—he was truly worthy of the power that had been bestowed upon him. He did not know how to respond. He did not know what to say.

Anders, however, had overheard the conversation, and he quickly leapt to Max's defense. "Yes, I think it is," he replied rather heatedly. "If you show the same amount of compassion to everyone, regardless of what they've done, you are betraying the concept of justice." He regarded Cole appraisingly. "A Spirit of Compassion? It is your nature. But there are other ideas than just that one, and we have to consider those ideas too."

Cole gazed back at Anders with a sudden blazing look in his eyes that rather startled Max—and frightened him a little. He was afraid for a moment that Vivienne's warning at the beginning would prove correct and Cole was about to transform into a demonic form, but Anders seemed to change as well. His eyes, normally a warm amber, momentarily flashed electric blue.

"Blood," Cole intoned, staring at Anders. "So much blood. The body, ripped apart, unrecognizable. He was a Templar. What is that light? The sun, too bright. Bright, bold, strange sun. A mission of vengeance, for mages, for him, for her. But they weren't dead. She wasn't a Broo—"

Anders suddenly lunged at Cole, and Max made to intercede forcibly between the two, but Anders merely held the spirit boy around the collar, glaring back into his face with those strange flashing eyes.

"Yours was a Seeker," he hissed. "'Look into my eyes.' Then your knife."

Cole suddenly blanched in horror. "No one was to know..."

Anders continued hissing through clenched teeth. "Where was the compassion in that, Cole? It wasn't an act of mercy. It was an act of justice."

"I..."

Anders released Cole's collar. "You were right to do it. And that is my point. It was justice." His eyes stopped gleaming unnaturally blue. "You are becoming a more complex being by exposing yourself to different ideas. I know of what I speak. You know I do. Welcome it. Don't fight it. Sometimes people do have to make a judgment that someone deserves violent justice more than gentle compassion. I did, the Inquisitor did, and you did." His voice softened. "Making these decisions is part of having free will. We can do more than just follow one idea. We have multiple ones, some in conflict, and we have to decide what to do. That's free will. It's a good thing. Don't fight it."

Max was gaping. He had gathered some of the back story from that. Cole had apparently put a Seeker to death at some point and had felt conflicted about it. But he still had so many questions.

He was almost afraid to ask Anders anything after that, but he couldn't avoid it. Gaping, he sputtered, "What in the bloody—what was that about?"

Anders sighed. "Right. Varric knows some of this, but what I just learned—it was a revelation even to me. I think we need to have a talk."

Well, Max thought after that talk, that certainly explains some things.

Anders, it turned out, was host to a Spirit of Justice, and had been so since Dragon 9:31, when he was serving in the Grey Wardens under the Hero of Ferelden. This spirit had already been assisting him in Spirit Healing, but the closer connection had made Anders into a Healer incomparable elsewhere in Thedas. That was how he could renew his mana pool nearly nonstop. It explained his specific reactions to the mention of justice. It explained one side of his constant head-butting with Cole, the side of justice versus mercy.

At the same time that he had joined with the spirit, Anders had killed a Templar, specifically the one who had captured him and taken him back to the Circle after he had become engaged to Hawke and learned that she was pregnant. He had, at the time, believed that she and their child had been killed in the Blight—or rather worse, in her case—and blamed the Templar for it.

But Cole was responsible for the death of Lord Seeker Lambert van Reeves. His murder in the White Spire of Val Royeaux had been one of the enduring mysteries of the Mage-Templar War. Now they knew.

"I should have been angry with him," Anders confessed to Max at that. "Van Reeves was a schism agent, and his death triggered Elthina to order the Annulments. But it would be unjust to blame Cole for her vile decision or the decisions of those Red Templars to carry out her orders. What he did was an act of justice. It isn't his fault that it triggered those Annulments, and Justice helps me see that clearly."

Max swallowed. He was still uncomfortable with the revelation of Justice, but, he reasoned, Anders had been in their presence for several weeks already and nothing too bad had happened. He had lived with Hawke for years and raised two children. He had the spirit... managed.

"You're bothered," Anders concluded. He smiled wryly. "I don't blame you. Most people would be. Should be, honestly. It was a gamble, doing this." He gazed at the spot where Cole had last been, rather wistfully. "And now I know that it might have been possible for Justice to manifest as a person himself. But," he recollected, "I would be dead, my daughter never would've been born, my son would've been killed, and I think my wife would have too. He saved us all several times."

Max took a deep breath. "You would know best. What did we all say recently? It's a new world, with new ideas. If you have made this work, who am I to second-guess you?"

"We should always second-guess each other, I think," Anders mused. "Nobody should be unchallenged."

"You really believe that?"

"You're thinking about Cole," Anders said. "The dispute in the infirmary." His expression changed. "We'll have to talk about that."

"What do you mean?"

"One patient that I treated recovered. The other... did not."

"You still gave them both a chance," Max said. "He wouldn't have. Now you know that one of them wasn't going to make it, even with your expertise, but the only way to learn that was to try. To give them that chance."

Anders nodded. "I know, but... there is value in compassion."

"You can see that," Max said. "I never doubted that. Cole is the one who needs to learn that there is value in other ideas, and that compassion and death are not always equivalent."

Anders got up. "Still, it's been good for me to be a Healer again after being a designer of weapons, mover of troops, and shaper of world politics."

"Those things matter," Max said. "As you said when you came here. This is a new world and we have to address these topics."

"But I needed to act as a Healer again, I think, to do that with the right frame of mind. I needed to understand why I want to do these other things. I needed to see people who were suffering and needed help. That's ultimately all that matters. We're fascinated with ideas, Inq—Max. I think that's fair to say."

"Yes," Max agreed. "We are."

"But certain kinds of ideas are ultimately about people."

"That's true too."

Anders told Cole about the patients after that, and the two seemed to reach a detente of sorts, to Max's relief.

It was a good thing, because very soon after their rapprochement, Leliana called them all to a war council meeting. The prisoners had finally given up Carroll. He would be found in the Emerald Graves.

They had additional information about both Calpernia and Samson, which was unexpected. There was a certain house in Val Royeaux, that of a merchant named Vicinius, where a "memory crystal" containing memories of Calpernia was believed to be located after the merchant purchased it.

Samson was lurking in an ancient temple of the Tevinter god Dumat in northern Orlais.

"We need to plan this," Max said, considering it. "Let's get this crystal first, then see where it leads."

"It's entirely possible it will lead to the same shrine of Dumat," Solas said.

"That would be... very fortunate, if so," Leliana said.

"We need to go to northern Orlais anyway to deal with the Wardens at Adamant Fortress," Max said. "Let's pick up this crystal, see where it leads, but go to this shrine of Dumat first unless Calpernia's location is along the way. Emerald Graves, Val Royeaux, the shrine of Dumat, Adamant Fortress." He smirked at Dorian and Cullen. "We move along the chessboard, take off the pieces one by one, and corner the king."

Notes: "What if Justice!Anders and Cole met?" is an idea often tossed around in fandom. My theory is that they'd despise each other, as the chapter shows. It just seems to me that they'd have a lot more to disagree about—both justice/vengeance versus mercy/compassion, and healing versus mercy killing—than they'd have in common. Whose side Varric and Solas would take also seems pretty evident to me. In any case, I needed to start showing some of Solas's darker side, so that the eventual reveal isn't completely out of nowhere.

I am compressing the Calpernia quest, as the chapter indicates. Here, the memory crystal was looted from a Venatori camp for the merchant's stock and it already contains information that can be used to find her. I don't see any special need to follow hunts and searches in the game, meant to provide challenges and xp opportunities for the player, if the story needs to pick up its pace. And it does. There was a lot to unpack in this chapter, with Anders' presence and all that had to be talked out due to that, but most of the remaining ones will be action-centric chapters. Next chapter will be dealing with Carroll, Samson, and part of the Calpernia quest. I am also doing something with Corypheus's Memories, but I will say no more about that yet.