The Inquisitor's party was better prepared for the Western Approach than they had been the first time. The Inquisition had learned quickly how intolerable the weather could be in the wrong clothing during their first foray into the desert, and they had been marching to battle then. This time, they dressed accordingly for what was at least starting out as a scouting mission in the unforgiving climate; thin leathers, loose linens, and veiled hats to protect them from the sand that caught the winds.
The forward camp in the Lost Spring Canyon was still set up, although the bulk of the Inquisition's presence in the Approach was stationed at Griffin Wing Keep. But Scout Harding's information needed to be passed on as soon as possible, which meant stopping here for their initial rendezvous.
When they arrived, Scout Harding was already in conversation with a yellow-plumed chevalier. She stopped to wave as they entered the camp, and the chevalier followed by her side. "Welcome back, friends," she called as the wind picked up. "Inquisitor, this is Ser Jean de Laurent. He and his men will accompany your party to provide additional assistance, by the empress' decree."
"I still cannot believe the little dwarven girl is their lead scout," one of the soldiers whispered to another. He grunted; apparently one of his colleagues had accidentally stepped on the soldier's foot.
"Celene keeping an eye on us?" Ellethir waved back. "I'd do the same. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ser Jean." The chevalier bowed and snapped his fingers, and the half a dozen chevaliers nearby stood in formation, bowing with him. "We are honoured, Inquisitor. My men and I are yours to command."
Ellethir nodded, squinting in the sun. "We don't know how strong the Venatori presence still is here, so we need all the help we can get."
One of the chevaliers openly scoffed. "We're not seriously taking orders from a knife-eared savage, too, ser, surely?"
Ser Jean scowled. "You take orders from me, your general, Blanchet, and I take orders from the empress herself. Your lord father might be the Baron de Blanchet, boy, but your mother was a whore in Lydes. No one here is taking our orders from you, neither your opinions. My apologies, Inquisitor."
Ellethir shrugged. "None taken, ser. Ah, Scout Harding, where do we begin?"
"Well, from what we've been able to find, it's all to do with these raiders." Scout Harding led them to a table full of scrolls and pieces of parchment weighed down with rocks. "There's a smuggler working for the Venatori, his name is, ironically, Servis. It seems he's hired a local smuggling ring, the White Claws, to maintain the Venatori presence in the Approach. We were right, the red templars were here to make use of the abandoned mines around here to farm red lyrium, but we haven't seen any templars around, or infected victims. At best, the Venatori realised they didn't have enough captives to make the stuff, and left, and at worst, they've already made what they needed. Some of my scouts have reported red lyrium sightings, and abandoned slave wagons, but the red lyrium could have theoretically been a result of red templars just being in the area, and we haven't looked close enough to be able to tell how old the wagons would be. The Approach has been how it is now since at least the Second Blight, and the Imperium's slave trade is much older than that."
"So we need to find this Servis?"
"In an ideal world, yeah, among other people," Harding agreed. "Sister Nightingale was in contact with a draconologist, Ser Frederic of Serault, but he stopped responding. We're not sure if he got too close to the high dragon that's supposed to be around here, or if the White Claws got to him too. This note would suggest it's the former, given that Servis here gives explicit instructions to steal only the man's research, but we don't know for sure."
"Could there be any survivors? If these White Claws did capture people for the Venatori?"
Harding shrugged uncertainly. "That's what Ser Jean and I have been debating. Truth is, we won't know unless you find them. Oh, which reminds me…" Harding flipped through the various letters and other paperwork. "Here. I've had my scouts mark where they saw mine entrances- the ones where red lyrium was spotted nearby are marked here. I couldn't risk sending our people down there myself, that's what your lot's experience is for. Hey, are we missing one or two of you?" She scanned her eyes over the small crowd surrounding the Inquisitor.
"No, we're all here, for once," Ellethir turned about to check. "Oh, we're missing Cole. He is here…somewhere."
"Got it. Well, I'm sure you all need a bite to eat, you can set off afterwards, soon as you want," Harding saluted. "We're gonna scout ahead to the Hissing Wastes, but we'll meet you at Griffon Wing Keep on our way back."
"Thanks, Scout Harding."
Their first landmark wasn't far off from the forward camp; two ruined cages on wheels, and several corpses dressed in rags. "Slave wagons," Dorian observed, prying the door out of the ground with the blade of his staff. "Venatori, no doubt."
"They're the same kind as the ones they were using in Emprise Du Lion," Ellethir agreed sombrely. She turned to the chevaliers. "We're not far from camp. Could one of you run back and get some help? These people deserve to be put to rest properly."
One of the chevaliers looked like they were about to protest, but Ser Jean silenced them with a withering look. "Go, now."
The chevalier saluted and jogged off, dragging a comrade along with him.
Continuing on, they found more ruined wagons further up the hill, along with the first mine entrance, marked by a small Inquisition flag. Ellethir turned towards the group, but mainly addressed the chevaliers. "Cover as much of your skin as possible, and be careful where you step. Go slowly. Don't let red lyrium touch you, no matter what. If you can't figure out a way around, stop, tell us, and we'll help you retrace your steps. Understood?"
The chevaliers nodded, pulling down their visors.
"Good. Let's head in."
The tunnel wound its way down to a single open chamber, where they nearly trampled on a corpse lying at the entrance. "You'd think they'd be in a better condition than the ones left outside to the elements," Varric observed.
"And that's probably why they aren't," Fae pointed to the strange contraption above them. The room itself was, as predicted, marred by branches of red lyrium sticking out of the original rock, but the biggest fragment protruded from the ceiling, funnelled into some kind of blade-like metalwork which was hooked up to a rig. The 'blade' hung directly above a table, where a ruined corpse lay, shards of red lyrium protruding from its chest. Behind the table, a jumbled of mangled corpses lay in the centre of what must have been a pool of blood, now long dry.
"Is this what would have happened in Emprise Du Lion if we didn't get there in time?" Ellethir wondered softly.
"I don't think so," Blackwall disagreed, frowning down at the corpses. "As far as we could tell before, the Red Templars need living hosts to 'grow' red lyrium. These people were killed beforehand."
"And judging by these symbols," Dorian pointed with his boot to a circular arcane sigil surrounding the table, drawn in blood. "I'd say blood magic was involved here too. Something like that could be involved in the production of red lyrium, but it's not like what we've seen before."
"Then perhaps it was an earlier experiment," Bull suggested. "These guys weren't killed yesterday."
Sera bounced anxiously from one foot to the other. "Does that mean we're too late to save anyone?"
"If the Venatori are still in the Approach, then their captives could be too," Ellethir reasoned. "We can't know that yet. Let's keep moving."
"Wait," Fae held up a note. "Louis, S. says get the templars whatever they want, no questions asked," she read out. "So stop asking, they want refugees and travellers, we get them."
"S. for Servis," Cassandra nodded. "Then we are on the right track."
The party backed its way out carefully, and continued on the road. Out of the corner of her eye, something caught Fae's attention. A rock, cut into a triangular shape, too deliberate to be natural, and a half-worn symbol on its face. "Wait. What's that?"
"A chantry trail marker," Cassandra said, surprise clear on her face. "They are used to mark the way for pilgrims to sacred sites or chantries. The markers to Skyhold are still being built, and the ones to Haven have yet to be recovered. But there are no such pilgrimage sites or chantries out here, as far as I am aware."
"Could they be decoys?" Fae asked. "Set by the Venatori, assuming that most travellers wouldn't know where these might lead?"
"It's possible."
"Then let's hope the next one is still along this road, we might be able to follow them," Ellethir said, marching ahead.
She stopped suddenly a few minutes later, ushering everyone behind a rock face. "There's a camp, they're armed," she whispered.
"White Claws?" Fae whispered back.
"Possibly. Hard to say."
The group surrounding the campfire were talking and laughing amongst themselves. Then, suddenly, they sprang to their feet, drawing swords and loading bows.
"Did they see us?!" one of the chevaliers whispered loudly.
The armed campers then ducked to the ground, blocking their ears with their hands.
"Wait, what are they—" A deafening keening screech ricocheted off the rocks. It sounded like metal crossing metal, like the largest mineshaft in the world crashing to the ground.
An enormous shadow momentarily shielded them from the sun overhead.
"That's the dragon!" One of the swordsmen shouted. "We're getting closer! Servis might not kill us after all!"
"That's our cue," Ellethir swung her staff in front, and the Inquisition charged. Although the White Claws were already armed and at the ready, they were outnumbered; one moment of surprise was enough. The Iron Bull practically danced his way through, great-axe swinging mercilessly. "Another high dragon, fuck yeah!"
"That's enough, Bull, they're down," Ellethir called, already rifling through pockets and saddle-bags. "Save your energy in case the dragon comes back and notices us too."
"Found something," Sera sang, waving an unfurled scroll victoriously. "Ahem! 'Caravan of refugees, drove off road. Half died, but you can pick up the wounded.' Hang on, if they didn't need their captives to be alive for their experiments, why would they only take survivors? It's not like they could make them do the mining if the people they took were injured."
"Perhaps they learned from their mistakes the first time," Dorian offered. "It didn't work well enough on the dead, so they decided to try again with the living. And it worked, we saw that in Emprise Du Lion."
"Then we could still find survivors," Ellethir said hopefully.
Fae looked uncertain. "Even if we do, if they've already been infected…there's no cure, Inquisitor."
"Then we give them the dignity of a clean death," Blackwall said softly.
The next mine entrance they found led them down an even longer corridor, and into a room at least twice the size of the first one. There were shards of red lyrium here and there, but nowhere near as much, and most of the rigging and materials still looked as if it had only been used for its original purpose- mining rare paragon's luster and rarer still, lazurite. The back of the room was shrouded in darkness, beyond the reach of a gap in the ceiling above which allowed sunlight in. The Iron Bull took the lead, and a few moments later his voice boomed from farther back than it should. "Found something!"
Ellethir lit a torch and followed, the rest of the party close behind.
"Benedict, pull up stakes," Bull read aloud. "All plans for the mine in the Western Approach are off. The Inquisition's on the move and headed your way. Dump all the bodies and relocate to Emprise Du Lion.' I guess these are those bodies," he said, pointing a large mound covered in sackcloth, from which a single, barely recognisable hand hung limply.
"Then they've been here for months," Fae said quietly.
Ellethir closed her eyes. "If we'd stayed in the area longer, when we first came here, we might have found them before it was too late."
"We were on the hunt for corrupt Wardens, Inquisitor, time was of the essence," Cassandra put a hand on Ellethir's shoulder. "We cannot save everyone. It will not be too late for the next people we do save."
"It also means they're up to something else," Fae added. "They've abandoned their plans for mining red lyrium, but they're still here. Those raiders are still trying to hunt a high dragon, and they work for Servis, which means he's probably still in the area too."
Ellethir opened her eyes. Distant, sad. "You're right, of course. Let's keep going."
They followed the tunnel to its end, and found it led straight back out to where they had already been, within sight of the first mine, so they followed their own path back to try in the opposite direction.
"If I was a 'Vint, looking for somewhere to do some shady shit, I'd probably try there," Bull pointed down.
A short distance away, there was an oasis of trees and green grass, in stark contrast to the environment of pale sand dunes and stubbornly dug-in deathroot trees. But as they squinted in the sun, the group saw what the Iron Bull had seen from his vantage point; the thin metal spires of a Tevinter fortress, peeking out just a little above the tree-line.
Varric aimed Bianca, and fired into one of the trees.
"What are you doing?" Ellethir asked, bewildered. Several Venatori came running and shouting.
"Drawing out the pests," Varric shrugged with a grin, loading and firing again, this time at the Venatori.