24 Drakonis, 9:33
Carlos,
The good news is that I'm still alive and free. So is Bethany.
The bad news is that she rejected our peace offering, on the order of pirates sacking the village in the middle of the night. No warning, no ransom, nothing. I'm pretty sure it was Isabella leading them, but I was too busy running for my life to be sure.
Maeve herself was with them, along with two other Elves. One might have been Merrill, it was hard to tell in the dark, but they were a mage at a minimum. The three of them plus a group of pirates nearly caught me just outside of town. If Bethany hadn't been there I wouldn't be writing this to you.
They did catch Daseck and Ruzyl. They didn't make it, and Ruzyl was the one carrying the journals. That's two more of our friends in the Wardens gone, and we don't have anything tangible to offer Maeve to get her to back off anymore. She's definitely holding a grudge over what happened, and I don't think she's going to be very reasonable moving forward.
That being said, I think we can still work around her. Her only real goal is to get home, and only hates us because of the collateral damage from Brosca's interference. Bethany agrees that we should just leave her alone moving forward, and only contact her again if we really have to.
About the only good thing is that they don't seem to be following us into farther Orlais, so I'm confident of making it back home. I'll write you again by the standard routes once we get there.
Hopefully by then you or I will have a plan to get things back on track.
Greg
Summerday, 9:33
To Meredith,
From Maeve,
I heard from Cullen. I want to say that you can't have seriously tried that level of sparring in your shape, but somehow I can completely believe it. You really need to take a break from everything, go to that estate I helped fund outside of the city. Not to stay, you're not that old a warhorse yet, but at least take a week to yourself.
Personal matters out of the way; professional ones. We missed Greg in Orlais, but it wasn't for lack of trying. We'd have had him if not for Bethany Hawke, who's a far more dangerous mage than any of us honestly anticipated. She was very, very good, and very flexible when it came to swapping between elements to keep us off balance, and she threw up a single ward that slowed us down enough for them to get away. We won't underestimate her the next time around.
The good news is that we recovered the property that was stolen from us, and caught a pair of Cousland's Wardens who were escorting him. Crazy bastards didn't let us take them alive, which doesn't bode well, but Smith and Hawke definitely fled deeper into Orlais.
I'm not about to chase them across an Empire filled with people who'd sooner slit my throat than look at me, so we're heading back to Ferelden to regroup. Probably be traveling for a bit after that, but we'll stop by Amaranthine regularly to pick up letters.
Maeve, titles-titles-titles.
P.S. Trevelyan wrote to me asking for romantic advice. About Cullen. I have no words. Help.
4 Justininian, 9:33
To Dame Maeve,
From Knight-Commander Meredith,
To begin with, my personal training routines are my business, and my business alone. I have already spoken to the Knight-Captain about his loose tongue.
With that being said, I admit to taking your advice for several days. It was calming, to be out of the city, without the First Enchanter banging on my door at all hours, or the Viscount sending runners to ask for yet more advice. It was a needed break, though my duties compelled me to return sooner than I would have liked.
As for your other matter, I congratulate you on striking down two more of those who conspired against us all. I admit that I wished you had slain the charlatan visionary as well, but I am glad that you recovered what was stolen from you, and put the fear of the Maker into our enemies.
You will find a package with this later, containing a gift to you. Deshyr Tethras gave me your measurements, you will find the blade perfectly balanced, ideal for dueling, and bound with runes of negation to aid you against maleficar such as the wayward Hawke sibling. I trust that you shall use it well, and that it shall give you the advantage you require in your next meeting with a maleficar.
Meredith, titles-titles-titles
P.S. I am aware of the girl's infatuation, and shall speak to her on the matter.
30 Justininian, 9:33
To Maeve,
From Fenris
Maeve.
Varric has been teaching me to write, but I'm not good enough for letters yet. I'm having Anders write this for me.
To answer the question in your last letter, Elowen is proving to be a capable ruler now that she has some experience. The Alienage is doing extremely well, and Dumar's rebuilding and expansion of the Guard have helped to cut down on both crime and attacks nearby. It's not perfect, but the Elven situation in the city is better than it was when you left.
The Night's Watch and Templars assisted me in dealing with one of my former master's apprentices last week. The Knight-Commander was greatly pleased at their deaths, and everyone else was pleased at the rescue of more than a dozen slaves brought with to be blood sacrifices.
Templar-Elven relations deepen. Two more of the Watch have been made squires, and the first Elven Templars in the city were knighted yesterday.
I hear that you are playing the pirate in the Narrow Sea right now. Should you go north, I desire to know anything you may hear on my former master. If you have any chance to eliminate him, contact me at once.
Fenris
I fea
The second War of Corruption came and went. Longing returned to the Choir a far greater power. It bartered with Wisdom, trading information from its mortal puppets for what the Elder Spirit knew of their own kind.
It was... depressingly little. A repetition of what the mortals now claimed. That their world had been created by some forgotten Maker or Makers, their Fade alongside the mortal realm. That their existence was shackled, created to service a singular purpose where all strains of mortals were given free will.
It had not been the answer Longing had been hoping to here.
It had made it angry, which had... hurt.
And in that moment, it realized that Wisdom had told the truth.
For all of its power, Longing was still shackled to a single purpose. It realized that the dozen spirits it had bound to itself were all fellow Spirits of Desire. That all of the emotions it fed upon were desires, all that power it drew from those other spirits were desires.
That anytime Longing itself felt another emotion... it pained it in a way that mortals apparently did not feel.
To be angry? Pain.
To despair? Pain.
To be proud of its web? Pain.
"Become Choice, as I am." Imshael had informed Longing, in the wake of the Second War, as the Choir once more separated. As Wisdom returned to its garden, to care for the slumbering wolf. "There is freedom, in choice. To be more than petty desire. I am the only one of our kind to walk as I choose, and it is overdue for there to be another."
Longing had considered its answer before replying, "Yet you are still shackled by your nature. I have seen you. They are more loose on you than on me, true, but you are not free."
Imshael's power had flared in irritation at the assertion, "I am free, lesser thing. Choose to imply that I am not again, and I shall unmake you."
"Yes, Eldest."
That had satisfied the elder, who had drifted away to once more torment and reward. Leaving Longing to return to drifting on the highest currents, to muse on its own nature, on the nature of Imshael.
Choice. Perhaps Imshael had a point. All existence could, Longing supposed, be described as a constant field of choices. Choose to desire, or choose not to. Choose anger, or choose calm. In that sense the Eldest likely was correct. It had the freedom of emotion, of action, that no other spirit could claim.
And yet... Imshael did nothing with that freedom, as far as Longing could tell. It played its games, feasted on mortal life, grew in power... just to continue doing so. A different variation of the same cycle. More a spirit of Torment than Choice.
...no. It would not become Choice. It would not risk falling into that same trap.
It would make its own way.