With the decision to join the march to Wycome firmly settled within Ih'tal, she found herself swept up in a whirlwind of preparations. The weight of the impending journey rested heavily upon her shoulders, and a resolute sense of purpose guided each step she took.
As she traversed the corridors of Skyhold, her demeanor exuded determination, casting an atmosphere of urgency among the castle's inhabitants. Conversations hushed as she passed, and she was met with nods of respect from those she encountered. The weight of leadership and responsibility sat comfortably upon her, a mantle she wore with a mix of humility and strength.
However, a decision remained to be made: who among her companions would stand at her side on this journey? She deliberated, considering the strengths and allegiances of each member. Solas and Sera's complex relationships with elven identity had given her pause, making her question whether they'd be willing to march for the elves of Wycome. While Iron Bull's commitment to protecting the vulnerable and his unwavering loyalty made him an appealing choice. Trusting him to cover her back felt instinctual.
Her first destination took her to the armory. The need for new gear was apparent, the wear and tear of past battles beginning to show on her equipment. Although she was a mage and didn't require the heavy armor worn by some, she recognized the value of having even light armor to shield her from danger. Each piece she selected was chosen, not only for its practicality but also for the layers of symbolism it carried. Akin to the tapestry of her history, her choices were an emblem of her journey, marked by the flames she once bore.
In days past, those flames had been her constant companions. Even though she had discovered a sense of belonging in this foreign realm of Thedas, she remained tethered to her former self—a testament to her enduring identity. The emblem of flames had served as a symbol of her past, an unbreakable link to the tale she carried with her. While many assumed the fiery insignia represented her command over the element of fire, its significance ran far deeper. It was a representation of the wisdom found within the flickering embrace of flames, the teachings that transcended the realm of mere magic. It held within it the lessons of destruction as a precursor to creation, of embracing change with a fearless heart, and of finding illumination within the darkest of moments.
In the quiet moments within the armory, she contemplated the resonance of these flames. The armor she chose wasn't just a defense against physical harm; it was a shield that bore the weight of her history and aspirations. With every choice of metal, leather, and cloth and with every piece in place, she felt a connection to the essence of her being, a silent promise to honor her past while forging ahead.
With her armor choice settled to her satisfaction, she set her course toward the library. The unfamiliarity of the Free Marches and its nobility prompted a desire for deeper insight. Additionally, she saw this as an opportunity to engage in conversation with Dorian, gaining his valuable perspective on the impending mission. Having been born into nobility himself, Dorian's experience and connections could potentially make him a valuable ally to accompany her to Wycome.
She found him settled in his favored chair, a circle of books surrounding him like loyal attendants. Dorian had confided in her once, that knowledge had served as his escape in Tevinter. It had shaped him into what he described it "the fabulously remarkable individual" he was today. He often spoke about how the wealth of information had contributed to his self-discovery and personal growth.
Dorian made eye contact over his book, swiftly marking his progress, and offering her a warm greeting with a playful grin.
"Well, well," he began, his voice carrying a hint of mischief, "if it isn't the Inquisitor herself gracing my presence. What brings you to my humble corner of knowledge?"
She joined him at the nook he had settled in, and with a nod of acknowledgment, she began to share her inquiries about Wycome and her impending mission.
Dorian, as always, listened attentively as she regaled the details. Once she had finished, he leaned back in his chair, considering her words. "Well, my dear" he mused, "it appears you've got yourself quite the adventure ahead. Wycome, you say? Ah, the Free Marches, a region I'm intimately unfamiliar with." His tone held a playful lilt. "A unique breed of independent-minded descendants of tough barbarians, if you ask me. It's quite the mixed bag of nobles and intrigue. I assume you're seeking information and handing me an invitation, yes?"
Leaning against the bookshelves opposite him, she began, "I had hoped you would join me. I believe a more 'noble' approach might be considered wise in this situation. However, I don't believe Vivienne is the right person for this particular Marcher adventure."
She paused, gathering her thoughts. "I am inclined to take the Iron Bull along with me. His presence could prove invaluable. However, the question remains: should we also bring a rogue with us? We'll be meeting both Leliana's spies and Dalish hunters. With us being mages, having another short-ranged fighter seems prudent. Do you have any suggestions?"
He considered her for a moment, his gaze thoughtful, before he spoke. "Well, I think Cole with his knives will provide both the rogue you seek and a short-range fighter. With two mages, we should be able to cast enough protection spells. But Varric and Sera do have their strengths as well."
She nodded, her agreement clear. "I don't want Sera on this," she said firmly. "I trust her, but I don't believe she can apply the needed diplomacy that such a venture would require. She has, after all, referred to the elves, specifically the Dalish, as 'too elfy' on multiple occasions."
Dorian answered with a laugh and continued, "You're probably right."
After their initial conversation, Dorian and Ih'tal found themselves continuing to delve into the potential members of the team and the strategies they might employ during the mission to Wycome. The two engaged in a deep exploration of the intricacies of dealing with the Marchers, analyzing cultural nuances, and dissecting the shifting dynamics of power within the region.
Seeking counsel from Dorian was something Ih'tal always enjoyed; their shared understanding and mutual respect had long formed a robust foundation for their friendship. Within the library's cozy confines, they exchanged insights, with Dorian offering glimpses into the Free Marches from his own experiences—revealing anecdotes that illuminated the peculiarities of the area's nobility and politics.
Their conversation naturally evolved into a full-fledged strategizing session, wherein they meticulously mapped out potential scenarios. They navigated through both the realm of reality and the realms of imagination, sometimes even indulging in the ridiculous. Discussions flowed seamlessly as they considered contingency plans and debated the merits of different approaches. Ih'tal found herself consistently appreciating Dorian's sharp intellect and quick wit. He possessed a unique ability to challenge her perspectives while simultaneously providing invaluable guidance.
As the sun shifted its position in the sky, casting warm hues through the library's windows, their exchange continued. Shared laughter and earnest dialogue reverberated within the room, leaving Ih'tal with a sense of heightened preparedness for the mission ahead. The bond between them felt stronger than ever, a fusion of shared purpose and camaraderie. As they concluded their conversation, she departed the library with a heart ignited by determination. She was now better equipped to confront the challenges that lay ahead in Wycome.
Leaving the library, she crossed paths with Solas on her way to her chamber. "You're not taking me with you?" he inquired, his tone a mix of curiosity and something she couldn't quite place. It was a question that held more beneath the surface, suggesting that he had overheard her conversation with Dorian and was seeking understanding.
"No, not this time," she replied, her voice carrying a mixture of regret and explanation. "I need a diplomatic approach, something that Dorian would be ideal for. Moreover, I don't think it's prudent to have three mages in my party on this occasion. While I do wish I could have you accompanying me, this time I'm afraid it's not the best choice."
"I see," he responded, his expression inscrutable.
"Well, I wish you a safe journey, and I truly hope your mission succeeds in aiding your clan," he stated, his tone sincere. "I admit I wish I could have been there, but I understand the importance of choosing the right companions. You have every right to make those decisions, and I would never ask for special treatment."
"Thank you, Solas," she replied warmly, bestowing a kiss on his cheek before turning to depart.
His voice held a note of anticipation as he spoke again. "However, I still wish for us to continue our conversation from the camp the last time, before we were interrupted by the messenger."
She gave him a nod, and as he turned towards his own quarters, an expression of gratitude played across his features. She continued her way, heading to her own quarters in the tower. Her thoughts were a complex interplay of divided wishes—on one hand, the pressing mission to help her clan, and on the other, the burning need to continue the conversation with Solas that had been left unresolved.