Delrin muttered a curse under his breath as he stomped down the street. Cullen had better have a damn good reason for this. Maker knows I have enough to handle right now. Something wasn't right and he knew it. He didn't care how many of his Templars told him he was paranoid. He was going to find whatever this problem was and fix it. There was no other option in his mind. He'd never be able to forgive himself should this turn out to actually be something and he had ignored it.

Not that it mattered much to him what people thought but he still felt the need to justify it all in his head. He had missing templars. An entire council that had skipped a critical meeting. And now Cullen wasn't even answering his phone. Because of course he wasn't.

That last part was what truly had him worried. Maybe he could have justified everything else—deserters, missed communications—but Cullen was practically raised as a Templar. He'd been with the order for far longer than Delrin himself had. Punctuality was something they drilled into every Templar just as much as the Chant. The man wouldn't even skip a dental checkup. If Cullen missed any kind of appointment, he must have been dying or close to it.

He flinched reflexively at that last thought. His mind was apparently trying to prepare him to find his friend hanging from the rafters. But it had been a long while since he had any reason to worry about Cullen's mental health. Weird as their situation was, his wife and son brought light and hope to his darkness and despair. They were more than enough reason for him to keep going, to keep getting better. No. If Cullen was gone, it won't have been by his own doing. Delrin was sure of that.

Unconsciously he picked up the pace. He only noticed because of the rapid crunching sound his heavy boots made against the salted sidewalk. He inhaled the chilly mountain air deeply, but the action did little calm his nerves. He only passively worried about the startled looks he was being given by the civilians he passed quickly. Clearly word hadn't gotten out yet, but it was only a matter of time. They're living in Haven, he chastised internally, they'd better get used to crazy.

As he crested the small hill in the street, Cullen's cabin came into view. He huffed a small sigh of relief, seeing that the place was still intact. Not that he expected it to be on fire or something equally ridiculous, but it calmed him by a measure for a moment…until he realized all of the windows were closed.

Cullen had been extremely claustrophobic ever since Kinloch. Most days, he couldn't even bring himself to wear a helmet. Every window had been wide open in that damn cabin since he started occupying it. Didn't matter the weather, he'd claim his nightmares were worse than the cold. Delrin even remembered joking with him that he'd be better off just sleeping under a tree at that point.

Someone else had to have been in there. He was starting to jog towards the cabin, but when a small but noticeable spark of flame caught his attention, he stopped in his tracks. It was that tevinter mage that Skylar had recruited. Delrin groaned internally when he saw the man beckoning to him frantically. But the fact that he was peering at him from behind the far corner Cullen's cabin told Delrin that he was likely sticking his nose in this matter, whether he liked it or not. If that were going to be the case, he'd better at least control the damned mage as best as he could.

Dorian knelt to the ground, swiftly casting a precise fiery spell. It wasn't as flashy as Delrin was expecting. It seemed as though the intended purpose was to discreetly melt the snow between the two of them. When Delrin took that first step onto the now slightly soggy ground, the bizarre action seemed to make sense to him. His footsteps would no longer make a loud, scrunching sound as he walked. It seemed to him to be an over-precaution, given that the civilians were still engaging in their typical activities. The street was no more or less quiet than usual. Any sound he made would likely have gone unnoticed. But still, he could respect that the mage as at least trying not to be stupid. He must be recognizing the gravity of the situation…a good sign, as far as Delrin was concerned.

"Finally, someone shows up." Dorian chastised as Delrin approached, speaking in a harsh whisper. "I was expecting I'd have to deal with this myself."

Delrin eyed him suspiciously, but replied with a hushed tone as well. "Deal with what, exactly?"

Dorian rolled his eyes over-dramatically. "Maker's Breath, this is no time to start dancing around like a bloody politician."

A sneer crossed over his face as he folded his arms over his chest. "I don't trust you, Tevinter. And I've no reason to."

"Ah, this again." Dorian's hands fell to his hips defiantly. "I wouldn't be so quick to pick at my motives, Templar. My family hasn't openly declared war against the Inquisition, have they?" Delrin visibly bristled, eyes glaring and nostrils flaring. But before he could speak Dorian waved his hand dismissively. "We can trade barbs all day if you're really inclined, but I don't imagine that lovely Commander will appreciate the effort."

Delrin took a quick, measured breath. It wounded his pride to admit it, but the Tevinter was in the right. He'd simply have to find a better opportunity to punch him in his smug little face later. Delrin fixed his hard gaze back to Dorian, "Report, then. What's the situation?"

"Well, sir, it's not puppies and rainbows that's for damn sure." The mage replied with a scoff. "Leliana's agents discovered some strange runes on certain buildings here. It was suspicious enough that Charter asked me to consult on it—or maybe she was attempting to accuse me, one of the two—well, turns out they're part of a ritual."

Delrin rolled his eyes impatiently. "Please tell me this is relevant."

"You asked for a report," Dorian flashed a mischievous grin. "I'm reporting."

"Maker's fucking breath, just get to the point!"

"Fine. I'll simplify. I unfortunately wasn't quick enough to prevent it, but I do know how to fix it. The ritual is aiming to use the inquisition's leadership as focal points. Right now, they're disabled but if we don't disrupt it quickly…well, I can't be certain about anything other than it's not good."

Delrin's eyes darted around as he processed all that. "What about Skylar?"

"Oh, our illustrious Herald seems to have missed the mark by pure happenstance as far as I can tell. It's also possible she wasn't actually a target, oddly enough. As for the others: when I couldn't get ahold of any of them, I assumed that they were already affected. Vivienne was deployed to look after Cassandra, and Solas is investigating Josephine's whereabouts now."

"Solas, really? What about Leliana?"

"Well, I was a trifle short on trusted mages as it were. And after what I saw in Redcliffe, I have every confidence that the Nightingale will hold out until help arrives. The lady ambassador on the other hand…"

"Is effectively a civilian." Delrin nodded curtly. "It was the right call."

A truly smug smirk crossed the mage's features. "Well, would you look at that! Common ground. Miracles do happen."

"Focus, mage."

"Yes, yes, back to business." Dorian checked his gilded wristwatch. "By my estimate we have about…7 minutes to disrupt the disablement."

Delrin steeled himself, regarding Dorian coldly. "I'll expect details later, then." He crept around the corner of the cabin until the back door was in sight. "You have a plan?"

"I can disrupt the ritual easily enough, but it'll take some focus. The Commander is guarded and more will probably come when I begin. I'm not quite talented enough to address both problems at the same time, I'm afraid."

Delrin snickered incredulously. "So it's a protection quest, then. Got it."

Dorian smirked in response. "Well at least I don't need a damned escort."