I have just been told that the Viscount is allowing the Qunari heretics into the city. That, rather than meet them at the gate with fire and blade in the Maker's name, he intends to allow them to camp within our very walls! What is worse is that one of the heresy's leaders is among them, and yet he would forsake this chance to cripple the Qun!
It seems so obvious a chance given to us by the Maker, yet Dumar forsakes his duty! I dared not credit the rumors of the commons of the his frailty, but now I find myself believing them utterly. I shall speak to the Grand Cleric at the first opportunity on this. She must order Meredith to act.
We must repel these invaders before they can once again desecrate this city.
Elthina refused to order the Templars to action!
I could not believe it, and said as much. The Grand Cleric countered that the Qunari are already within the walls, that the collateral damage of such a battle would be too high in a city that is daily struggling not to collapse into ruin.
I attempted to reason with her. The souls that will be lost if the Qunari are allowed to linger should be our focus. That only the vanguard had entered, and that if the Templars and Guard could close the Gates now, we would triumph in the Maker's name. Especially if she roused the city to the cause.
When she did not react, I added that, if she believes our mortal lives must be focused upon rather than our souls, then surely giving the Qunari a foothold in our city is a foolish risk.
She replied that she and the Viscount have matters well in hand, and that the Knight-Commander is fully prepared should the worst come to pass. I was then dismissed, curtly, and told to focus on my prayers.
I cannot understand her reasoning. Kirkwall has already suffered the ravages of those heretics in the past, and the city barely survived them. Yet despite history's warnings, Elthina and Dumar believe that negotiation shall triumph.
I do not share their faith in this... I must pray in the hopes that the Maker shall guide me to a solution.
The Grand Cleric has finally granted me permission to warn the faithful of the Qunari danger during my sermons. I am deeply honored, and relieved, to see her seeing a degree of reason in this.
I have begun to prepare my first effort, just as I have begun to consider how to best rouse the city against the heretics. A few of my fellow Sisters and Brothers seems to grasp the threat, though far fewer than I'd like. More covert questioning of the Templars have led me to Ser Varnell, a man whose family was massacred by the ox-men.
He quickly agreed to begin sounding out his fellow Templars, including the officers. If he performs well in this task I may arrange for him to be made bodyguard to myself. That would greatly aid our coordination and planning.
I shall have to play close attention during my sermon as well. I am certain that many will recognize the threat once I make it clear. I must gather all of those of like mind to my side so that I am able to properly gauge our strength. It will not do to strike before we are ready.
My prayers were interrupted this evening by the strangest event. A disgraced noble was brought in to the Chantry by a Guard, a Templar, and an Elf, claiming to have been held captive by Templar maleficar within his own home. That did not surprise me as much as it should have, for all of her zeal Meredith is proving less and less capable of containing the maleficar threat with each passing year.
No, it was the Elven woman that was strange. The Templar and Guard alike deferred to her... the Guardswoman was prepared to attack Mother Bettina, at the elf's order, when the senile fool went too far once again.
It was... strange. She is not much to look at. Tiny, even for an elf, barely taller than a dwarf. Pale of skin, brown of eye. I suppose she has pleasant features, though her extremely unfortunate haircut detracts much. Her ears are longer, more sharply pointed than any elf's I have ever seen, and I cannot decide if they are equally unfortunate or shockingly exotic.
Yet she spoke with a clarity that I found myself... drawn to her. Compelled to listen. Uncouth at times, yes, but with a noble's tenor. When she spoke she expected me to listen, to consider, and to treat her as an equal despite her status as Elf-kind.
Perhaps more importantly than anything else, she spoke against the Qunari with a dismissive loathing that echoed my own prayers almost perfectly. I never considered looking for aid against those heretics among the city's elves, but now that I have, the thought will not leave me.
Her name is Maeve. I will find her again, I must, and ensure she walks with the Maker as I do. That our thoughts on the Qunari are truly aligned, and to determine just how I might use the Elves against them.
I ensured she would not forget me, enacting the courtly behavior of my misspent youth. She was clearly taken by it, and I can only hope that she will seek me out soon.
My thoughts continued turning to the Elven woman, and her words about other Elves turning to the Qunari. She claimed to understand why they would give up their immortal souls... I cannot, yet her words do not leave me.
I have asked the Grand Cleric for full access to her histories of the Qunari Invasions, and she has granted it to me. I have put off Ser Varnell's plan involving a Qunari mage for now. Their patrol is well known, and I deferred him by ordering he further train the men we mean to use to ambush them.
Varnell did not question, in fact agreed that the recruits were not ready. That is good, because this puzzle shall not leave me be. I feel certain it is the Maker guiding me towards revelation...
I must discover what He intends for me.
I have it.
In every city that the Qunari conquer, invade, or infiltrate, their first target is always the Elves. Not to kill them, but to recruit them. The Elves appear to volunteer by the score to serve the heretics in the beginning, looking to strike back against those who treat them so poorly.
It is only after, when the brutal nature of the heresy becomes clear all too late, that they realize they have forsaken their souls for nothing. They then rise against the heretics, only to be struck down just as the faithful before them were.
Again and again this pattern repeated itself across Tevinter, Antiva, Rivain, and finally in Kirkwall itself. The Elves aid the Qunari by rebelling, aiding them against the faithful. The Elves then rebel once more when the chains of heresy wrap around their souls, and are cut down in turn.
According to the Grand Cleric's books, there are nearly five thousand Elven souls within Kirkwall. Most of them living in the Alienage, but working in the city. Nearly every noble house has at least one Elven servant, and most have many.
I am no military mind, but even I can see what would happen should the Qunari heretics subvert them. We would find the nobility assassinated within hours. Find armed elves storming out of every alley and street, dooming any defense. All of Kirkwall would fall, our battle over before it began.
Such an event would surely cause the wrath of the Maker and Chantry to descend upon the Qunari, but I cannot believe that is the Maker's will in this.
I must speak with the Elf named Maeve once more. If she truly is a leader among her kind, then I must have her by my side as I have Ser Varnell. He shall be my holy blade with which to cut down the heretics in the Maker's name, just as she will be my shield, preventing her people from falling victim to the lies of the Qunari.
And, if necessary, as a martyr as Blessed Andraste herself was.
I found her. She was cut down badly wounded a mere hour after giving me a Revelation.
I do not say the word frivolously. She spoke such words of passion against the Qunari that I felt them in my very soul. It was as though Andraste herself was speaking through her, once more igniting the holy fervor against those who would enslave us all away from the Maker's Light.
In one moment I was certain the Maker had spoken through her to finally give me His answer, yet in the next she lay dying wounded in a bar, having thrown herself into battle while telling me to run.
I do not know how to feel.
I cannot find the words to write.
Maker of All Things, do not test my faith like this.
I have realized one secret. I shall say no more, even in my journal.
She lingers. I dried the sweat from her forehead as she writhed in agony, even in her sleep. I can do nothing for her. No one can do anything unless she wakes and tells us her will.
I prayed over her.
How strange. I hardly know this woman, yet I feel drawn to her. I feel my very heart ache with each painful breath she takes. The Maker would not do this. He would not guide me to such an ally against the heathens, only then to take her away before my very eyes. He would not test my faith like this.
I pray.
I pray.
I accompanied the Dalish heathen who claims to be Maeve's companion to the Alienage to find it in arms. Scores were prepared to march out to avenge her. I spoke at length to them, telling them that she had not yet passed into the Maker's embrace. To hold their anger. That she would not wish for them to join her.
The Dalish spoke as well, settling those whose souls I did not reach. A few still wished to go out, but were stopped by a nearby Templar. The very same man I saw with Maeve in the Grand Chantry.
There is something else here. Some hidden plot that I have become exposed to. Maeve is more than she seems.
Maker of All Things, let her recover, so that I may learn just who she is.
The Maker's tests are harsh, but never cruel. He allowed one of the Deshyr's runners to find a healer at the docks in the very last hours. The man is an apostate for certain, but I shall not speak of him to the Templars. Not when he was surely sent to answer my prayers.
And his skill... I can hardly believe it. I sit at her side as I write this, in awe at the talents of the man who named himself Anders. Just yesterday she looked as if a corpse, each breath a painful gasp, yet now she looks as if merely sleeping after a long day's work.
None of this can be coincidence. Her Revelatory words that reached my heart. Her sacrifice to save my life. Her survival at the hands of a mage found at the last moment.
I... must pray on this. I am nearly shaking in relief for a woman I hardly know.
The Dalish heathen sleeps beside her, holding her. It is difficult not to demand she be removed, to let her stay so close to one clearly blessed by Andraste herself is not right, but I will hold my tongue in this. The Dalish is clearly important to Maeve, or else she would not be here. That will be a discussion for later.
I must return to the Chantry. I have duties to attend.
Ser Varnell was uncertain as to my Elven focus until I recited to him the very words that the Lady Maeve spoke to me.
I saw the way his eyes widened, the way he stood taller. He felt them as well. I have told him to step up recruitment among those recruits who failed Meredith's tests to become Templars. He has my leave to engage any Qunari who act outside of the city's walls, and understands that he must leave no survivors.
He agreed most eagerly.
While he begins our Exalted Work, I must finish adjusting my sermon for deliverance to the Alienage. I am... not as knowledgeable on the plight of Elven souls as I surely will need to be, to keep them in the Maker's Light. I will speak to Maeve on the morrow.
I found myself in need of prayer when I returned from the Alienage.
Maeve was a most gracious host, welcoming me into her small home as if she were a noble Lady guiding me into her estate. Even recovering she insisted on the proper decorum; refusing to let me pour my own wine or retrieve my own plate, treating me as an honored guest.
I find that I must believe her when she claims to be far from the explored realms of Thedas. We spoke of her circumstances over food, with the Dalish, Deshyr Tethras, and Ser Thrask eating beside us. A truly remarkable tale, and further proof that the Maker sent her here for a reason.
I remain equally certain that her homeland has warred with the Qunari in the past. She says nothing on the matter, but it would greatly explain her loathing and understanding of them. I must be tactful in this.
The Deshyr took the words of my planned sermon to the Alienage and rewrote them before my very eyes. It was... quite frustrating, yet humbling to read them and realize that he better expressed my feelings than I myself did.
We spoke more on it, adjusting nearly every section further, until the Lady Maeve politely ejected us from her home for forgetting that she was present.
I was most embarrassed, and was perhaps overly effuse in my praise of her when we departed. She is shockingly easy to fluster with even the lightest of courtly manners. It is rather adorable.
Andraste Guides Me, Maker of All Things Watches Over Me.
They must, because my first sermon to the Elven Alienage was like nothing I have ever experienced before. I am told that my timing was poor; that most of the residents were long to work, but several hundred still crowded the main square to hear me speak.
I can hardly speak now, for my throat is so sore from ensure all could hear the Chant.
Many of them... wept when I spoke. Others clutched small idols of Most Blessed Andraste. A child asked me if her carving truly resembled the Maker's Bride, and if I would bless her little idol of driftwood. I am not a soft woman, but I felt tears when I murmured a prayer over her, and the girl hugged my knees.
I am a mere Sister, and yet they treated me as if I was the Divine herself.
Their knowledge of the Chant itself was bare, yet earnest. They tell me I am the first member of the Chantry to lead them in prayer in living memory. That those who officiate weddings come only with Templar escort, and depart the moment their role is done.
I demanded that Maeve tell me if this was true, and she seemed baffled by my anger when she confirmed it was.
It is no wonder heresies such as the Dalish and Qunari so readily lure Elven souls from the Light! How blind was I to not see this? How blind must the Grand Cleric herself be, to not see this?
Five thousand souls in our City, desperate for the warmth of the Maker, turned aside! Abandoned!
I go to pray, lest I scream into my pillow as if I was a child once more.
The Grand Cleric has blessed my desire to cease delivering Sermons in the Grand Chantry, and to focus on the Alienage.
When she asked why my change in focus, I was most harsh in my condemnation of her, and of myself. I told her of the reaction to my brief sermon, that many Elves shared my fears of Qunari infiltration. That they were a legion of the Faithful being turned away from Andrsate's path by the apathy and derision of the Chantry.
Elthina accepted my rebuke most calmly, praising me for chastising myself as well. She admitted that the plight of those Elves who had converted to the Maker's light was a failing, one that we must rectify. I am to continue giving my sermons, and to bring to her any further ideas I have in that regard.
The Grand Cleric is wise, but in this she was not subtle. She was clearly put-off by my mention of the Qunari heresy, and hopes that this work shall distract me.
She need not know that the Lady Maeve's loathing of the Qunari outshines my own.
I spent the day with the Lady Maeve, speaking principally of the Qunari. It was as humbling and revelatory as our first such discussion.
She seemed to know, at once, what Ser Varnell was doing outside of the city. She was not directly opposed, but firmly reminded me that neither the Guard nor the Templars were in any position to combat the Qunari. That our focus must be on cutting off the heretics' ability to recruit within the city, and then to build a 'coalition' to expel them.
The Lady was very firm that any direct action must be "clandestine, precise, coordinated, and there's not going to be any martyrs.". She was most against my plans involving the Qunari Mage, but similarly praised Ser Varnell's elimination of isolated Qunari patrols outside of the city. My efforts to find like-minded Brothers and Sisters met with her honest praise, and advice that I encourage them to speak in the Chantries in Lowtown.
I found myself... most persuaded by her opinions, by the stubborn zeal with which she speaks them.
We are in agreement. We shall safeguard the souls of Kirkwall first, create a wall of faith to isolate the Qunari, and then rally the city so that all finally see the danger.
Maeve's Dalish companion wandered into the Grand Chantry today, apparently lost. I did not believe her, but offered to escort her back to the Alienage as a favor the Lady.
The Dalish, Merrill, is... a very odd woman. She spoke at length about everything and nothing, clearly unaware of the simplest customs outside of her people's. I was left gaping and silent more than once at her confusion over Andraste's Fate, and the Chant of Light. And yet there was... a cunning in her eyes. She is not as soft or naive as she appears, I think.
I believe she was testing her companion's newest confidant. Taking the measure of me. In the oddest of ways, perhaps. She is extremely protective of the Lady since her wounding, commendably so.
We paused outside of the Alienage, speaking of her own faith. She asserted that she had her own stories to explain the world, and did not need the Chant, but also admitted that Maeve had said something that left her uncertain as to the nature of her Creators.
She seems to be having a crisis of faith in the heresy she was raised in, but is reluctant to turn to the Maker. While my own zeal demanded I at once instruct her in the ways of the Chant, my thoughts of the Lady Maeve... dissuaded me.
A gentle hand is due. I asked for her aid in arranging for water be brought to my next sermons in the Alienage, the better for her to attend and learn.
Ser Varnell was able to report eliminating a full patrol of Qunari in the Maker's Name, including one of their chained mages. He claims that the creature had clearly never faced a Templar before, and the chains binding it left it all but helpless when its magic was stripped away. His recruits similarly performed extremely well, and he again praised my guidance in spending more time training them.
He also reports that more of the ox-men have begun to desert their own heresy, setting up as bandits to the north-east of the city. For now he avoids them, and I expressed my approval at his wisdom.
My fellow members of the Chantry speaking against the Qunari report that my new sermons have already shown promise. I must thank the Deshyr for his advice, and thank the Lady Maeve for introducing us.
I have heard the most ridiculous rumor after the day's sermon. It is claimed that the Lady Maeve prepare to venture into the Deep Roads in search of untold wealth.
There is no way such a wise and blessed woman would do something so foolish. I shall tell her on the morrow, and ask if she knows where these rumors are coming from. Perhaps they merely exaggerate one of her routine trips into the wild with her Dalish companion.
She confirmed the rumors! I cannot even begin to express my anger disappointment my
I must pray.
I gave a pointed sermon against the perils of greed in the Alienage today. The Lady Maeve clearly knew the reason from the way she reacted. She cut short our usual luncheon after, refusing to listen when I attempted to warn her of the danger.
I cannot believe she is actually going through with this. It must be some form of plot, a ruse she is conducting for other reasons.
The Grand Cleric has brought Sister Eloise into her confidence, given that my ability to act as her secretary has diminished with my other work. I approved of the choice. Eloise is a sensible woman, a dedicated worker on any task she is given, though she lacks true fervor and imagination.
Still, I must admit that it stung my pride to realize I must share my position before the Grand Cleric. It is foolish of me, I know. My work in the Alienage and preparations for the inevitable Qunari betrayal leave me too busy to properly conduct my duties for her.
I prayed on the verses of the Chant most related to that Sin to cleanse myself.
Maeve was resolute today. She is going on the expedition, despite all of my efforts to convince her otherwise. I all but confessed my infatuation, but it only softened her words. She will not allow Deshyr Tethras to go alone, and will be by his side regardless of what comes.
Her absolute loyalty to her companions is more than merely commendable, and I felt... flustered to be told that I was one of them.
I will pray daily for the Maker to watch over her. Kirkwall needs her wisdom if it is to survive the heretics lurking within.
I prayed with the Lady before she departed this morning. As she warned me, her prayers were certainly not 'orthodox', and I know many in the Chantry who would castigate her. They would be fools to do so. She is living proof that the Maker made himself known to all of the world, to all of the peoples.
She may not worship him 'properly', but I know that she believes in her heart. That elevates her beyond the heretics of the Qunari, and beyond those who merely mouth the Chant and do not let it touch their blackened souls.
I shall busy myself with my holy work until her return.
Sister Leona has begun to make herself a nuisance once more. She has begun repeating sermons from the Exalted March on the Dales, warning that arming the Elves of the city can only lead to a resurrection of the Dalish heresy.
Elthina rebuked her once I brought it to her attention, but not as harshly as I hoped. Worse, I have begun to hear numerous reports that other Sisters and Brothers feel the same as she does. Those fools truly believe that a handful of Elves, who are among the Faithful, are a greater threat to Kirkwall than ten times their number of Qunari heretics!
I have reached out to my own allies to begin pushing back against this utter stupidity as quickly as possible.
I have spent the last week attending sermons in the smaller Chantries across the city, speaking to the Revered Mothers, Sisters, and Brothers in each. Noting how each feels about the Qunari, the city's Elves, and the general state of Kirkwall.
Most are, infuriatingly, refusing to take a hard stance on any of the clear crisis before us. Too many seem to agree with Leona. They believe the Qunari's lies that they shall not linger here long, and that to arm the Elves is to invite rebellion and chaos.
While they are fewer, I have identified several more who are clearly as concerned as I am about the Qunari, and cannot understand the fixation on the Elves as a threat. I have arranged with Sister Eloise to see them transferred to the cloisters and chantries nearer to the Alienage. That region of the city shall become our fortress from which to combat the heresy and indecision within Kirkwall.
Knight-Commander Meredith made a personal appearance at my sermon in the Alienage today, shocking us all. She listened in silence from the back ranks, then spoke for a time with the man left in command of the Night Watch in Maeve's absence. He arranged for an inspection of a dozen of their members.
Meredith seemed pleased with their comportment and respect, though their equipment did not meet her satisfaction. I assured her that the Lady Maeve intends to replace it all when she returns.
She spoke to me further about my sermons, and about Ser Varnell's constant efforts to highlight the Qunari threat to the city. I shall have to warn him that at least one of his recruits must be a spy for the Knight-Commander.
Regardless, she informed me that she was well aware of the Qunari threat, and had plans laid to deal with them should the heretics prove to be lying about their intentions. I would have been relieved had she not followed this by requesting I focus more on the threat of Maleficar in my sermons, and asking Serrah Zatris to keep a sharp eye out for any rogue mages.
We could do nothing but assent.
I realized today that it has been four weeks since the Expedition's departure. I find myself... missing the Lady Maeve. Not as a friend or companion, but as... someone more.
It is not possible. I have spoken my vows, but for the first time since my foolish youth I feel my heart yearning for another's touch.
I find myself missing her quick temper, her constant sighs as though she cannot believe the world's refusal to bend to her whims. The way her pale cheeks and long ears turn to pink so readily when I kiss her hand.
I pray nightly for her safe return, even if we can never be more than allies and friends.
I made the smallest addition to my sermon regarding the threat of Maleficar as possible, couching it in a warning of the Imperium and its reliance on Elven slaves. It seemed to go over well, the crowd quick to unite in their hatred of Tevinter.
The little girl who once asked me to bless her idol of Andraste gave me another. It was surprisingly well carved, and I praised her for her efforts. It now sits atop my desk, a reminder that faith can be found anywhere if one but looks.
Ser Thrask escorted me back to the Grand Chantry, and we spoke of Meredith's obsession. It has only gotten worse than the Circle in Starkhaven burned, and the Gallows has begun to be packed with mages from that city. It is badly overcrowded, and he says it is no wonder that so many are able to escape into the city.
Most simply flee into the wild, or go west to Nevarra to find succor in the College of Magi, but we both worry that many linger in Darktown.
Elder Leras, the de-facto Lord of the Alienage, suffered a sharp fall today. At his age this is far from a minor thing. I have set the broken bone in his leg, and given him what herbs and potions I could.
He was extremely polite in his thanks, and seemed to be in good humor about his situation. Even when I informed him I did not know if he would live another winter, and that another such fall could send him to the Maker's embrace.
A brave man, for a Dalish heretic. I shall prolong his life as long as I am able, and do my best to bring the Chant to him before he passes.
My latest sermon was far more sparsely attended than I anticipated, and the heckling from the crowd was unusually high as well. I have spoken with those young women I have begun to teach both the Chant and the ways of Healing, and they were startled as well.
Serrah Zatris has promised to investigate thoroughly.
I watched the Guard interrogate the Qunari spy responsible for the heckling and sparse crowd at my latest sermons. He confessed quickly to his nature under the lash and brand. The heretics are aware of my efforts against them, and aware that the Lady Maeve stands beside me in this.
He sought to diminish our works, to rally the Dalish worshipers against my sermons. Strangely he claimed his orders were firm; I was not to be attacked directly, to avoid my death becoming a symbol. A strange wisdom from the Qunari, but one that shall allow us to excise their cancer more swiftly.
The war for the souls of the city has begun in the Alienage, and we must ensure our total victory in the Maker's name.
Guard-Captain Brennan summoned me to the Keep. The spy we interrogated just yesterday lays dead, a vial of poison in his hand. Her Lieutenant Aveline has begun an investigation to determine just how that was allowed to happen.
She confessed her fear that there are Qunari agents among her Guard. The Captain is most distressed; the nobility are chafing at her refusal to engage in the corruption of her predecessor, and she claims to have already fought one assassin sent to remove her.
The constant demands from Meredith for sharper sweeps to hunt for Mages escaping the Gallows is not aiding the weights on her soul, and she confessed that the Qunari threat is always on her mind as well.
We prayed together in her office, and she seemed in better spirits to have spoken the Chant with me.
I was called to perform a wedding in the Alienage today, but it was only after I arrived that I realized that the bride was not a willing participant. I brought her to Ser Emeric and Ser Thrask at once, and returned to chastise the assembled Alienage with all of the fervor I possessed.
Most were suitably ashamed, but many grew angry at my invocation of Andraste and the Maker. For now anger is as far as they have gone, but Serrah Zatris is becoming concerned for my safety. I shall now have members of the Night Watch watching over my sermons.
I have also begun to hear muttering that the Qunari spy was not truly a spy at all, but a Dalish. That I had him killed to silence his voice, to ensure the triumph of the Maker over the Creators.
It is becoming concerning.
Ser Varnell's team are no longer recruits, but skilled warriors. They have found exactly what Maeve and I hoped to discover; tunnels in Darktown that lead directly under the Qunari compound. A way to attack the heathens within their very fortress.
For now Ser Varnell is constructing false walls and barricades, to lure the heretics into believing we merely wish to restrict their access to the city. He assures me that they shall be easily destroyed from our side, and more difficult to remove from the other. All the easier for the faithful to bypass when the time comes.
My new guards proved less than capable. They were cowed by a collection of Dalish Elders who sought to disrupt my sermon, and it was only the arrival of more members of the Watch that restored order.
I spoke to Elder Leras, and he is greatly concerned, but can do little confined to his bed. The others of the Alienage know his time may be short, and seem more content to position themselves to take his place rather than listen to his commands while he still lives.
The only good news was that Serrah Zatris identified a Mage from Tevinter at the docks, sent to investigate what happened to those slain some months ago. His arms were covered in the scars of a blood mage, and the Elves identified him to the Templars at once.
Meredith was extremely pleased at the deliverance of a true Maleficar, awarding a bounty to the members of the Night's Watch responsible. This gladdened them, but also once more set the Dalish Elders to fuming that they were being 'lured astray'.
I shall pray on a possible solution.
Two of the girls I have been training in the ways of the Chantry vanished today, the young man escorting them lays dead in an alley in Hightown. I alerted the Templars and Guard, and both have commendably rallied to search for them.
So soon after receiving her personal approval, Meredith was quick to dispatch Knight-Captain Cullen himself to lead the search. He says she has become quite enamored with the Elves of Kirkwall, believing them to be her personal wards and agents.
The Lady Maeve will be both pleased and disgusted, if I know her as well as I believe.
I pray to the Maker that we find the children in time. They are good girls, showing great promise in their faith and in their skills as healers. It shall be a harsh blow to this world if the Maker takes them to his side.
There has been no sign of them yet, though the search continues.
During my prayers, I believe I have come to a solution regarding some of my problems in the Alienage. A potential way to strengthen the hold of the Faithful there, and to better repulse both the Qunari and Dalish heresies. It will be difficult, but with Maeve's help when she returns I have hope.
It will be difficult but
Members of the expedition have returned. They claim all others dead or mad. That Maeve is entombed with her party in the Deep Roads.
The Guard-Captain has arrested them all on suspicion of murder.
I do not believe it.
I will not believe it.
She is alive, blessed by Andraste.
I confess that I flew to the Keep the moment I was told, embracing her as if I was a love-struck teen. She complained as she always does, but I felt her return my affections.
I fear for her heart. She would not speak of what happened down there, only that they returned alive, untainted, and wealthy.
I told her what progressed in her absence. As I expected she was most displeased, and intends to assist the search for Lia and Aria as soon as possible. She did approve of my rough plans regarding the Alienage, and shall take them to the Elder as soon as the girls are found.
She promised to speak of further plans against the Qunari once other matters are settled. That she has several that we might look into, and I await those discussions most eagerly.
Before she departed she... gave me a chaste kiss upon the cheek. I still feel it.
I must pray on my vows.