The Words of the Destitute

ஏழைபேச்சு அம்பலம் ஏறாது

The words of the destitute carry little weight - An ancient Tamil proverb

The next morning, a ship arrived for Val Royeaux and I bid farewell to Ellana and Eldric before boarding the ship. The party reduced to Solas, Cassandra, Varric and Mother Giselle with plans to meet a couple of Inquisition agents at the port. I spent a large part of the voyage at the bow of the ship gazing out into the horizon.

Mother Giselle approached me, breaking my self-imposed isolation. Her hands were crossed in front of her, her posture exceedingly formal, nodding in greeting as she stopped, "You seem deep in thought, Herald. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

I gave her my practised smile as I tried to inch away, "It's alright, my lady, you're already doing so much, I couldn't impose any further."

Her smile dimmed, "The people of Haven and beyond have placed their faith in you as the Herald of Andraste. Such an imposition on you must be difficult," she paused, cautious, "Yet I cannot help but feel that the Maker has done this not only to broaden the minds of Andrastians, but to show you that he loves you and your people."

Oh no. Not this again, "I appreciate the thought," I glanced around discreetly, trying to find a way to escape, "I have been up here for too long, I should join the others."

She sighed in defeat, "Of course, Herald."

As I retreated below deck, I mentally sighed in relief when she followed quietly. I reached our cabin where Cassandra, Varric and Solas were spread out as far from each other as possible. Solas was asleep on his hammock while Varric occupied the only chair, his hands writing furiously into his notebook. Cassandra was deep in prayer in her corner of the room, whispering quietly into the air.

My entrance into the room seemed to break Varric and Cassandra out of their trance, their body language turning hyper alert. Even Solas came awake as Mother Giselle locked the cabin, swiftly climbing out of his hammock and standing alert.

"Herald, is everything alright?" Cassandra asked warily.

And this was why I'd avoided going down into the cabin. Everyone's attitude towards me was changing drastically, and walking into any room produced the same effect as a king or queen walking into it. It didn't help that I only appeared during emergencies and disappeared right after, making little conversation with the party members.

I rubbed my forehead, feeling drained, "Everything's fine. I'm going to lie down for a while," I scanned the room and finally noticed a glaring problem; there were only four hammocks. I heard a bustling around me and ignored it, I wasn't in the mood to deal with this. I was too tired to care about sleeping arrangements. I was more than happy to sleep on the floor.

I went to the far side of the room, grabbed my travel pack and used it as a pillow as I curled up on the floor towards the wall.

"Herald!" "Wait-," "Please take-!"

"Quiet," I ordered, my voice cutting through their protests, "Wake me when we reach the shore."

I ignored the furious whispering that broke out and closed my eyes.

The captain had us debark a few kilometres away from Val Royeaux as he had no permit to sail into the city. As we set off on the Imperial Highway, a few of the Inquisition scouts joined us. A blonde human scout approached, looking worried, "Herald, they've been warned of your arrival. I don't think it's safe for you to go inside. A few Chantry Mothers are riling up a mob against you. Herald, you need to turn back."

I shook my head and tilted my head forward, determined, "We must proceed."

The squad of scouts looked troubled but formed a loose defensive formation as we approached the gates of Val Royeaux. The same scout approached the gate and exchanged terse words with the guard.

He returned, his expression anxious, "They're warning us away. The Chantry Mothers await you, but so do a great number of Templars. The people believe that the Templars will save them from…from the Inquisition. How'd you like to proceed?"

Cassandra stepped forward, looking resolute, "There's only one option."

An image of an angry mob of humans getting ready to lynch me flashed through my mind, and I could feel the blood draining away from my face. I took a deep breath to calm myself, "It's fine. We expected this."

Cassandra moved closer to me, her voice dropping so that only those closest to us could hear, "I didn't expect this. I didn't think the Templars would gather here."

Varric rubbed his chin, "The Order could have returned to the fold, maybe? To deal with us upstarts?"

Cassandra shook her head in denial, "I know Lord Seeker Lucius. I can't imagine he would defend the Chantry, not after all that's happened."

The blonde scout spoke up, cautious, "It may just be the hope of the people. I haven't heard anything that says that they intend to help."

Cassandra's expression turned unreadable, "Still, someone needs to return to Haven. Inform them if we are…delayed."

The tension and fear in the group skyrocketed and I knew I had to say something to alleviate the tension, "Everything will be fine," I said, projecting a confidence I didn't feel. I held out an arm to Mother Giselle, "If you would accompany me, my lady?"

She nodded and gently grasped my elbow as we ventured to the guards. This was why I'd insisted on bringing her; she was a local legend in the eyes of the people. No matter how much the nobles resented her for having the love of the public, her compassion and humanitarian efforts gave her an authority that people couldn't ignore.

And predictably, the guard at the gates recognized Mother Giselle instantly, blubbering in excitement and gratitude as she approached. The gates opened, and my escorts tightened around me as we walked through the market, shops boarded up due to the commotion.

A woman's voice echoed through the streets and jeers followed her words. My breath hitched in trepidation as we neared the mob.

"There she is! The apostate elf that murdered the Divine!" The Chantry Mother on the podium gestured violently towards me, "Behold the so-called Herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise after killing our beloved Divine! As if the Maker would send an elven mage in our time of need!"

A wave of rage rose up from the mob and I shuddered. There was no way I would reach these people by appealing to their common sense. In a crowd like this, only grandiose posturing would work.

"I am not the enemy! I did not kill the Divine!" Shit, my fear was making me defensive, "I came here because I need your help! The Breach threatens us all; we must unite to stop it!"

Cassandra stepped in front of me, "It's true! The Inquisition only seeks to stop the madness before it ends us all!"

Mother Giselle strode onto my other side, "The Herald has stabilised the Breach, but without your help, it cannot be closed. We know the Maker's will, Mother Hevara; he would want us to work together. Please, help us before it's too late!"

Whispers broke out amongst the crowd and the woman on the podium hissed, "It's already too late!" She pointed wildly to her left and the sound of clunking metal reached us, "Templars have returned to the Chantry! Templars, face this Inquisition and protect the people once more!"

My party closed in protectively around me, blocking my view of the scuffle that broke out on the podium.

"Don't help her! She's beneath us!" The crowd parted to reveal a pale man decked in high quality armour, his black hair tied up in a ponytail, followed by a large contingent of Templars glaring down at the collapsed Chantry Mother.

Mother Giselle couldn't contain herself, "What's the meaning of this?!"

The man sneered, "Her claim to authority was an insult, much like yours."

Cassandra darted towards him, "Lord Seeker Lucius! Please, you must listen!"

"You will not address me!" He snarled, "Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet of Andraste's prophet. You should be ashamed!"

He turned from her, addressing the crowd, "You should all be ashamed! We failed no one when we left to purge the mages. We left to protect you, protect the world! The Chantry failed us! You leashed our honourable work with doubt and fear! The Chantry can do nothing, does nothing! If you came to appeal to them, you are too late! The only destiny that matters now, is mine!"

I couldn't help but be transfixed by his heartfelt outrage, distracted from gauging whether it was really him, or the supposed Envy demon. Usually, a nearby spirit would help in such an endeavour, but the Veil felt distant in Val Royeaux; I could barely skim the Fade, let alone reach spirits, and I could hardly fall asleep now to reach the Fade.

But there was a spell that people used to check for presence of spirits and abominations. It highlighted all spiritual imprints on the subject of the spell, and if it was a spirit, its disguise would be broken. Surely, such an aggressive move towards the Lord Seeker would be forgiven once the truth was revealed.

I pulled magic from the veil, and it was almost like trying to thread leather; hard and difficult to manoeuvre. A templar nearby jerked, turning his head around frantically, and before he could open his mouth, I cast the spell on the Lord Seeker, who was still raging at the crowd and Cassandra.

A bright blue cloud encompassed the Seeker Lucius, cutting off his tirade. Alarmed screams rang out in the crowd and I got into a battle-ready stance while casting a barrier spell over the bystanders to mitigate any possible collateral damage.

A loud roar rose, "Who dared to attack me?! Templars surround the Market Square! Don't allow anyone to escape!"

The spell set in, and every templar within the vicinity glowed a sharp crystal blue. In the centre stood Lucius, his insides glowing a bright red with a faint golden glow on his forehead.

My breath hitched, panic setting in.

What have I done? It was supposed to be the Envy demon!

Solas grabbed my shoulder tightly, whispering furiously, "Herald, why did you attack the Seeker? We're the only mages in this Square!"

I couldn't respond because the Seeker was approaching us menacingly, "This, this is why the Templars left! Do you see how treacherous mages are?! Such a blatant unprovoked attack!" He turned furiously to me, "Which of you was it? Confess, or else both of you will be punished!"

What do I do? What could I possibly do short of killing all the Templars here, which I could not do!

How do you even get yourself in these situations, Erelani? Desire suddenly intervened, its voice reverberating through the distant Veil with considerable force. Why would you ever attack someone like him for no reason?

Help me.

Fine. Desire sighed. Give me a moment to ask Nobility.

There was a momentary pause.

Tell the truth in a way that helps you. Change the nature of his truth to one that makes you look good.

With a sharper than usual tug, Desire's voice disappeared, returning the full range of my focus to the Waking World. My heart pumped furiously even as I adopted my Hahren voice, "Tell me, Lord Seeker, do you know what spell was actually cast?"

"So, it was you. I'm not surprised. Like I'd expect anything else from a Dalish elf."

"I did cast the spell. You were acting like a man possessed! You, leader of the Templars, punched a Chantry Mother unconscious when she asked for your help. Yes, it was my fault, for assuming a Seeker would never behave in such a way. Your actions were not the result of a demon or blood magic! They were your own! Even as the one wronged by her, I cannot condone such violence. And you wonder why the Chantry put a leash on you?"

"What would a Dalish savage know about anything? Your words reveal your ignorance, elf!"

"Funny, how expecting common decency from a man claiming to be protector of the people, makes me ignorant."

"You dare speak down to me? You are nothing! Your people are less than nothing! Know your place, mage!" He unsheathed his blade and struck the ground where I stood hard, casting a perversion of my earlier spell.

There was a wrenching searing pain in my soul, and I lost all connection to the Fade. For a moment I couldn't see, and it felt as if I'd been set adrift into nothingness. This feeling was disturbingly familiar.

I am Erelani. An alien. Once human and now a Dalish elf.

There was a snap and sharp impact instead of the oozing I expected.

I blinked my eyes open, finding arms holding me to prevent me from collapsing. My left hand was alight, a furious green sparking like fireworks.

I pushed the others off me and steadied myself. Loud voices penetrated my consciousness,

"Abomination! An abomination!"

"No, she is not an abomination! That is not what happens when a body is possessed by a foreign spirit!"

"She just woke up, like the Smite did nothing. Did you see that?"

"It's a miracle, that's what it is!"

"You heard what Seeker Cassandra said, didn't you? The Herald of Andraste! She must truly be the Herald of Andraste!"

I snapped my eyes open, alarmed. Mother Giselle was standing next to me, looking like a stalwart protector, as she blocked the Templars from me.

"She is the only reason that the world didn't collapse! She stopped the Breach! I believe, with all my heart, that the Maker has touched her. What more proof do we need?" She was very good at this, changing the nature of the truth until it was barely recognizable, "Just look at her! At her divine light!" I gazed down, dazed, and found my body radiating a silvery radiance, as though my body were so full, it was brimming over, "Help us, Templars! Never has the Maker's will been so transparent! Help us save the world!"

The crowd quietened.

A low voice spoke up, "Lord Seeker, what if they're saying is the truth? What if-?"

"Silence! Enough of this! You are called to a higher purpose, do not question! Templars, we march from Val Royeaux!"

Not like this. I couldn't let him leave with an image of me weak and helpless like this, as if he'd won. After such a display, despite Mother Giselle's efforts, there would be people who saw me as just another mage, powerless under the might of the Templars. No Templar would want to assist the Inquisition if they thought the leader could be easily defeated.

I had to get up.

"Lord Seeker!" He turned to me, looking murderous, "Whatever our quarrels may be, there are some evils that cannot be ignored," I took a moment to imagine them as wilful children rather than the dangerous men that they were, "Be careful of red lyrium. If you come across it, run away as fast as you can. It's evil," I turned to the address rest of the templars, "If any of you change your mind, the Inquisition doors will be open."

The Seeker had already started walking, ignoring my words, but that was alright because those words had never been for him. They'd been for the Templars under his command, those who could possibly prevent their fate. The faces of many in the squadron turned white at my words but they followed their leader, subdued.

With the spectacle over, the city guards finally acted, dispelling the crowd. A few civilians approached Mother Giselle and Cassandra, tentatively offering their help to the Inquisition. I only stood where I had, staring at the Chantry woman who had instigated all of this.

It's hard to show compassion to a person who tried to get you hanged because of their religious beliefs. But this journey to Val Royeaux had a purpose; to break the voice of the Chantry and there was no better way to do it than rubbing moral superiority over their faces.

I stepped towards her slowly and quietly, my left hand still feeling as though it was on fire. She looked up at me blearily and sneered, "You must be pleased."

"We came here to ask for help," My voice remained unerringly polite, "This is not our doing, it's yours."

"And you had nothing to do with it? Don't delude yourself!" She snapped, "We've been insulted by our own templars, in front of everyone. The clerics have fled, their convictions shattered. Tell me, after all this, do you really think you are the Herald of Andraste?"

I remained calm in the face of her skewed priorities, "No, I don't think I am."

"Then what are you?!"

"Someone who wants to close the Breach and needs help to do it. Tell me, why is the Chantry so against helping others?"

"Our Divine, Her Holiness, is dead because she tried to help, don't you dare-" Her face contorted in anguished rage as she cut herself off, "For you to be standing here, a great number of things we believed must be false. If you are false, then a great number of things must have failed. There is only chaos awaiting us."

Wasn't that a surprise! She understood the limitations of the Chantry, the Order and the existing social systems, "I hear doubt," Mother Hevara stiffened at my words, "That's good. It means you will question what you do instead of blindly believing in orders. Tell me, will the Chantry continue to denounce me after everything that's happened?"

"What's the point? With this, the Chantry will be divided. Until a new Divine is elected, there is nothing we can do."

I knelt next to her and placed a healing hand on her head, "Well then, will you help me save the world?"

"What do you want?" She looked weary, defeated, "Why would you even want my help after what happened here today? We abandoned our duties, we servants of the faith. And now we can only pray."

"Believe it or not, shemlen," A trickle of satisfaction ran through me at using that word instead of her title, "Not everything is about you and me. There are people who need help, and you have the resources to help," I stood up, dusting my hands against my clothes in a show to demonstrate how disgusting I thought she was, "If you choose to, feel free to contact Seeker Cassandra or Mother Giselle."

I gave her a gentle smile, "Fen'Harel ma halam."

It was petty, disguising an insult as a form of farewell, but making nice with such a selfish woman had tested every patient bone in my body. As if she led a hard life. As if the Chantry wasn't the problem. I practically had to beg for her help, even as she mourned the failures of the Chantry.

I walked away and ignored the intense stares that Solas and Varric gave me, aware that they'd watched the whole exchange. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I'd barely entered Val Royeaux and there was still so much left to do.

After the spectacle in the morning, we recruited a large number of agents for the Inquisition. Cassandra spent most of the day making bulk requisitions for raw materials and managed to convince a few craftsmen to send their apprentices to the Inquisition. Mother Giselle went around recruiting non-humans to our cause. An invitation to Madame De Fer's soiree was delivered to our inn.

Yet there was no arrow.

I discreetly scoured the markets for red things, but being Val Royeaux, which was infested in a medley of colour, this turned out to be pointless endeavour. I dragged Solas and Varric from shop to shop, hoping I'd catch a glimpse of Sera, but everywhere we went, people stared, preventing any useful reconnaissance.

Still, there had been no arrow, which could only mean that Sera didn't want to join me.

It's difficult to explain why this hurt me as much as it did. Out of all my supposed companions, she had the least to contribute to the Inquisition. She wasn't educated, didn't have any meaningful connections or any unique knowledge. She hated magic.

By all reason, she would hate me.

Yet she was nonsensical. She was irreverent. She was blunt. She cared about the wellbeing of regular people. She was one of the few companions who was exactly what she said she was.

Most importantly, she had a power that few ever possessed.

Common sense.

I sat quietly at a café, lost in thought as I pondered my options.

"Hey, Herald, you alright?" Varric asked quietly, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I blinked, "Yes, of course."

There was a long pause and he fidgeted before continuing, "So, that thing that happened earlier…is a spirit possessing you or is it the Mark?"

I stayed quiet, uncertainty robbing my voice. Was I just possessed? Was I really an abomination? Why did those words feel so wrong?

I glanced at Solas. He seemed detached, but my gut told me he was listening to every word being said. I glanced down at the fancy cake slices I'd bought from the cafe, "I don't know."

"That's very…not good," He whispered, "You ever seen something like this, Chuckles? In the Fade?"

"There have been many…abominations throughout history, Master Tethras," Solas answered, as quiet as Varric, "But someone who acquired such a Mark accidentally? I'm afraid I haven't found such memories in the Fade."

At the reminder, I looked down at the Mark which was still pulsing furiously, though thankfully, it had stopped letting out sparks. I held it out to Solas, "The incident aggravated the Mark. Do you know what to do?"

Varric jerked back from the Mark, the pulsing somehow tangible beyond the confines of my skin. A sick fear enveloped me; just what was this? Nothing in my experience with the Fade shed any light.

It was a complete unknown to me.

As Solas ran his magic through the Mark, Varric placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. He must have seen fear on my face, "Sometimes I forget that you're just as clueless as the rest of us."

I gave a weak chuckle, "What, ever, made you think otherwise?"

He grinned, "All your flashy magic. You somehow convinced me that you had the answer to everything."

"That's called wishful thinking," my smile turned real, "But then again, you are a writer. Sorry to disappoint, but I'm nothing more than an unlucky Dalish elf."

"You're a lot more than that. A whole lot more," The stiffness in his body eased a little, "If you ever get the urge to blow innocent people up though, give me a heads up."

Solas finally let my hand go, "With the binding in place, I doubt she could, even if she wanted to."

The mood soured at the reminder and I tucked my hand away. I thought about Sera, about her beliefs, her work and what she represented.

And I made a decision.

We trudged through the back alleys of Val Royeaux, venturing deeper into the city, away from the main roads and into the slums.

I stopped next to a sign that read The Chamber Pot, bringing the others to a stop, "Remember, here, I'm not the Herald of Andraste. Call me Erelani."

I pulled out my gloves, fastening them over my hands tightly as I waited for a nod from both Varric and Solas, "And unless the others ask specifically, don't mention that we were here."

"Would you rather we wait outside?" Solas surveyed the surroundings, his hand resting guardedly on his staff.

"That would just be more conspicuous. Just be yourselves and don't get riled up."

After a deep breath, I pushed the slab of wood masquerading as a door aside, ushering the other two in. There was a rustling as everyone in the bar looked to see who had entered and I lifted a hand in greeting.

"It's just Erelani," Hakdi, the barkeep announced. He waved his fingers, calling me over, "Who're these two chaps?"

"This is Solas, just another apostate and this here is Varric Tethras, the author of Hard in Hightown and The Tale of The Champion.""

His face screwed up, "Makes no difference to me, don' bother readin' that stuff. Though I know one of the Merchant's Guild when I see 'em," He held his hand out to Varric, "May the business grow and gold flow."

"You too," Varric shook his hand, smiling charmingly, "So how do you know Erelani?"

"Like everyone else," Hakdi glanced at me and I shook my head discreetly, "Valo-kas helped out a dwarf in need."

I placed a hand on the counter, "Is Henry in?"

"He's drinking alone in the corner. You know how he gets sometimes."

I placed one silver on the counter before moving to the corner of the dilapidated shack. There was a loud game of Diamondback two tables down, the revelry nearly hiding a drunken dwarf in the back, "Long time no see, Henry."

Henry jerked his head up, blinking blearily at me, "Ditzy bitsy Erelani, is that you?"

Solas and Varric sat down on the empty chairs nearby, riveted with my interaction with Henry. I tried my best to ignore them.

"You're as pathetic as ever," I shoved Henry to the side, taking a place on the floor next to him, "Ever heard of a bint named Sera?"

"Why, whaddya need done?" He rubbed his eyes furiously, "No, answer me first. Fair's fair."

"Ask away."

"Where's boss? Haven't heard a word from since the Conclave. Did he even survive? What even happened?"

"Eldric's in Ferelden, helping something called the Inquisition. Someone blew up the Conclave. Most of Valo-kas was butchered, and the rest of us joined the Inquisition."

"You work for the Chantry now?!" Henry started laughing, "Damn, that's the funniest thing I've heard all month!"

"Eat shit, Henry," I punched his shoulder in retaliation, "Things were really bad. Still are. Just doing what I can," I sighed, "Some things are worse than the Chantry."

"Not much, though."

I grinned, "Yeah, not much."

He yawned, his mouth stretching wide, "Sera's a city elf. She's the one under that table."

I turned to where he indicated, finding a blonde elf chugging beer under the table of rowdy patrons, drooling over the shoes of everyone sitting at the table.

"Thanks," I gripped his shoulders tightly to get his attention, "If someone tries to transport red lyrium, you need to let Eldric know. Also, avoid red lyrium. Some Vint tried to Blight lyrium and got red lyrium."

Henry paled, "Shit! You serious?"

"Would I lie about this?" I frowned, "We don't need to get caught up in that shit. Put the word out."

"We've already-," He stopped suddenly, his hands shaking, "I need to talk to Eldric. Thanks, 'Lani."

I nodded and as I stood up, he tugged on the back of my bag, "They say the Inquisition's Herald is an elf…is it someone we know?"

I opened my mouth to lie and suddenly realized the sheer futility of it. Henry was part of the Carta, which meant that when he contacted Eldric, the ruse would be up. While I would benefit from lying now, later, I would lose his trust.

But announcing it in this bar would result in pandemonium.

So all I did was gaze at him silently. He must have understood because he gasped, "Holy nug shit!" And he was laughing all over again, except this time, he couldn't seem to stop. I kicked him as he rolled around, "Keep your mouth shut, Henry. At least until I leave."

Another wave of laughter rolled over him and I walked away, rolling my eyes in irritation. At least someone was happy from my misery.

I neared the table Sera was under, tapping her feet to get her attention.

"Wha' is it?" She scuttled out, "Who are ya, and whaddya want?"

"Sera?"

"Yeah," She drawled, and squinted hard, "Who the hell- aww, an elf! I ain't got no business with an elfy elf. Go away."

Irritation washed over me at her derision, but I pushed it away. I had expected this, "I work for the Inquisition. I was-,"

"Eeeh?" Her eyes turned wide, "You work for the Inquisition?! Then you're not too elfy then, eh? Go on then, what is it, tell me or stop botherin' me!"

I blinked, trying to keep up with her fast-paced drunken rambling, "Would you help us? Would you join the Inquisition?"

Her eyes finally seemed to focus on the conversation, "Why ya only askin' me? This room's full of people."

"The Friends of Red Jenny."

She froze, "Who the fuckin' hell told ya, tell me now!" She grabbed the nearest weapon, which turned out to be a table knife, and held it against my throat, "Tell me or I'll slit your throat before you can say shit drippin' shit stains."

I remained still, "I work for Valo-kas."

She eased up, "Right, right, the mercs that were alright."

"If you don't mind, could we talk outside? Privately?"

"So you can stab me and leave my parts outside? I ain't stupid!"

Why was this so difficult? "Please."

Her face scrunched up, but she followed me outside, down the alley into a dead end. Solas and Varric stood at the entrance to the alley, but had their bodies faced towards us, battle ready.

"Spit it out already!"

I held my hands out to her, to show I meant no harm, before slowly removing the gloves. She reared back in horror at the sight of the Mark, "What, in blazing hells, is that?!"

"I was the only survivor from the Conclave," I began, wondering how I was going to convince her to help me, "My name is Erelani Arwen, but some people have taken to calling me the Herald of Andraste."

Her eyes widened in shock, her mouth open as she stared at the Mark. I waited patiently for her to respond, "Wha-Why are you here?"

"Will you help me close the Breach? I think I could really use you. People everywhere are suffering, and you have the ability to reach them, find out what's going on. Even how we can help."

She stared at me, confused, "We're not what you think. We're just regular people. Little people who help each other out and stop the big bad people from doing terrible things. When rich tits yell blah blah blah, obey me, we stick it to them."

"Alright. Could you use them to help the Inquisition? Or maybe the Inquisition can help you?"

"You're a strange one," She looked at me hard, before grinning slowly, "I was thinking about it anyway, but changed my mind. Sure, why not. I'll join."

I sighed in relief and felt a large grin form on my face. I held out a hand, "Welcome to the Inquisition."

"Yeah! Good! Get in before you get too big for your breeches," She shook my hand enthusiastically, "Ugh, all that glowy Fade shit though. Gotta keep that away from me."

I let out a deep breath, trying to remember the reasons I recruited her, "Do you want to join me on my journey back to Haven?"

"Eh? A free ride? Hell yeah!" She snapped her fingers in sudden realization, "Wait, need a day to sort a few things out, yeah?"

I nodded, passing the details of our departure to Sera. Cassandra had booked a ticket for me out of courtesy, but I'd be passing it on to Sera instead.

As I left the alley, Solas finally spoke up, "Why her? You specifically recruited her."

Varric answered instead, "She's part of something called the Friends of Red Jenny. It's just a group of normal people working together, but they're surprisingly effective. They were pretty active in Kirkwall."

Solas turned contemplative, "She seems averse to magic."

"Her and most of Thedas," Varric replied, "People fear what they don't understand."

"That is true."

"So, Herald, correct me if I'm wrong," Varric smirked knowingly, "You work for the Carta, don't you?"

"I was a mercenary, not a saint," I shrugged, "They're very resourceful and don't think twice about hiring elven apostates."

"They also do some pretty evil shit."

I rolled my eyes, "Name an organization that doesn't."

"Touche. I don't think that will stand against Seeker Cassandra though. She might try to stab you in the book."

Solas frowned, confused, "Don't you mean the back?"

"No, the book, I definitely meant the book."

I huffed, amused, "Which is why I hope you'll show some discretion. I was out doing Inquisition work anyway. She doesn't need to know the specifics."

When they nodded, I gave them a smile, "And in return, the next frilly cake we have is on me."

"Ah, the sweet taste of bribery," Varric grinned roguishly, "How could I ever refuse?"

I wish I could say I enjoyed Madame De Fer's soiree.

I hadn't had the opportunity to change from my worn Dalish clothes, the Inquisition cape draped carelessly over the ensemble in a modicum of ceremony.

There hadn't been any grand confrontation or drunken yelling, only sneering and mockery from the nobles attending the soiree. Most kept a large distance from the "Dalish savage" and stared at me as if I were a freakish curiosity.

When Madame Vivienne requested a private discussion in the parlour, I sighed in relief, grateful that this ordeal would soon be over.

What followed was the one of the most excruciating displays of grandstanding I'd ever seen. I'd thought Solas was bad, with his pretentious speech patterns, but she didn't even bother to hide that she was manipulating me and had ulterior motives. Her cognitive dissonance was painful to witness. She was so extraordinarily brain washed, that she took pride in the accomplishments that she belittled other mages for.

Yet despite her posturing, I couldn't deny that she made a few very valid points about mage politics.

"Mages need a place where their talents are protected and nurtured. Most in Thedas fear magic, rightly so. The devastation that mages cause when they lose control, is reason enough."

I watched her quietly as she offered her connections and talent to the Inquisition.

"You've been very quiet, my dear. Shall I take your silence as agreement?"

There was no reason to refuse her. Like Sera, she was exactly what she presented herself to be.

"The Inquisition would be happy to have you, my lady."

"Great things are beginning, Herald. I will see you in Haven."

I left, trying to ignore the sick twist of emotions eating away at me. I was ashamed, because I'd stepped into such decadent luxury dressed in the most hideous attire I possessed. Even Keepers wore their best clothes when representing our people, and I had walked in wearing a decade old tunic and pant with blood stained Dalish armour. I couldn't disdain the nobles who'd sneered at me, because presentation was important.

Forget representing the Inquisition, or even the elven people, my self-respect and dignity demanded better, and I had failed miserably.

But the worst part of it was, I wanted what she had.

Her high-quality dresses that radiated magic. Her beautiful Estate. The veridium staff. The luxurious scents. The decadent food.

I wanted it. She had it. And I hated her for it.

Yes, that's right. That's why I hated her. Not for her classism, racism, or power grabbing tendencies, but because I was jealous.

I could hear Desire laugh delightedly across the Veil.

AN: I was sitting on this chapter for a long time. The chapter has everything that I wanted to convey, but for some reason I'm extremely unhappy with it.

Unfortunately, time only made it a little better.

So, her status as an abomination may have been revealed, depending upon whether the public bought into the display.

Also, you may ask, where is Enchanter Fiona? All will be revealed in the next chapter!