The winter had finally begun to release its icy grasp on Skyhold on the party's return, leaving behind a coat of melted slurry on the ground that threatened to fell anyone who wasn't wearing the sturdiest of boots. The walls of the fortress had been patched up to reduce the potential of cold drafts ruining the efforts of fireplaces, and new braziers donated by Orlais. The war council reconvened in the early hours of the morning, reorganising paperwork as a new draft yet to be identified sent the untethered papers flipping across the war table.
Ellethir caught one as it fell, and handed it back to Josephine. "How has Dirthavaren held up since we left?"
"Relatively well," Josephine reported. "Aside from those who are not yet well enough for travel, the reunited Orlesian armies have mostly set out for Val Royeaux already. Empress Celene is planning some manner of military display to signify the end of the War of the Lions."
"We also have a guarded supply caravan on route to Halin'Sulahn, although it will be a few of our elven scouts who make the actual delivery, along with the Dalish recruit, Loranil," Cullen smirked. "He expressed some hesitation about returning to his clansmen so soon after joining us, but we are at war, and the job is necessary for our new alliance with Clan Enasa."
"Good, good. Oh, before I forget, do we have any leads on the glyphs?"
Fae located a crack in the stone wall, and shoved her scarf into it to temporarily 'patch' it, to Josephine's evident dismay. "What glyphs?" she asked, checking her handiwork.
"Gordian, the Venatori mage who infiltrated the Freemen, had letters on his person which referred to a series of Dalish glyphs they'd located in the area," Ellethir replied. "I asked Keeper Hawen about them, but all he could tell me was that they were relevant to the worship of Dirthamen."
"Forgive me, Inquisitor, Dirthamen is the elven god of…?" Cullen trailed off.
"He gave the People the gift of knowledge, loyalty and faith in our families. Some of that knowledge was secret, only told to his priesthood."
"Ah."
"We have a lead," Leliana confirmed. "As it happens, one of our mages, Cillian, is Dalish. His magical ability is not strong, but he is something of a scholar. He believes he may be able to translate the glyphs with the help of other Dalish clans, and he knows of a few that travel along the Waking Coast. He will attempt to make contact with them on our behalf."
"In the meantime, Inquisitor, our reports all point to Samson's red lyrium smuggling operation being directed through the Emerald Graves," Cullen said, passing a letter to Ellethir. "We suspect the Freemen of the Dales are also involved. They seem to be regrouping there. Arcanist Dagna and our smiths are still working with me to identify weaknesses in armour such as his, but it is a difficult process. She even suggested that we attempt to replicate—"
"No," Ellethir said immediately.
"I wholeheartedly agree, and I've already said as much. It would only be as a last resort."
"The very last, Cullen. I don't want to even consider it."
"Speaking of the Freemen, Inquisitor, we have been contacted by a man called Fairbanks," Leliana waved away a messenger as the door began to crack open hesitantly. "He says he has information of value to the Inquisition, and he offers a trade: The information in exchange for the Inquisition's help in eliminating the Freemen of the Dales. They have been increasingly violent towards civilians in the Graves, leaving a path of destruction in their wake. We have located Fairbank's hideout with fellow refugees. Scout Harding has a forward camp set up nearby, and they have made contact with him, but he insists on speaking with the Herald of Andraste directly. Fairbanks is holding his information close to his chest."
"If there is a chance at all that he has information on the Venatori, we'll need that information," Ellethir murmured, thumbing through a stack of letters, none of which were the one she was apparently looking for. "Still no sign of Lady Morrigan, Josephine?"
"Empress Celene sends her apologies, Inquisitor, she requires Lady Morrigan's assistance a little longer."
Leliana smirked. "She wants to hang on to her second-favourite bodyguard a little longer while she reorganises her new set of friends and enemies."
"Now, now, Leliana," Josephine chided. "We are part of the new set of friends, we should at least try to act as such."
Unlike the Plains, there was no gradual shift in scenery from the mountains down to the yellow grasslands in the Emerald Graves. Upon passing the tree line, everything save for the sky above was green, and even then, the scar from the Breach was green on the horizon. Tall evergreen trees shaded everything below, and fields of healthy grass covered the forest floor like a great carpet, interrupted only by its ancient roads. Blue and mottled orange august rams darted between the trees, but it was the Graves' infamous great bears that made everyone keep an eye out for danger, not to mention the Freemen of the Dales. Said Freemen welcomed the Inquisitor's party not ten minutes after entering the forest, but they hadn't counted on the Inquisition's scouts already waiting for them as well.
"Here to help Fairbanks?!" a man shouted from above. "He's a dead man, he and his crew! We'll get you, then we go for Watcher's Reach!"
The party readied themselves for an attack at the sound of drawn bows, but shocked gurgles filled the air as several men and women fell from the treetops, dressed in makeshift leathers. "You first!" A woman's voice cut through the cacophony. "But thanks for confirming where Fairbanks is for us! Go ahead, Inquisitor, Harding's not far!"
"Thank you!" Ellethir called out, trying and failing to spot her saviours in the foliage.
"Not fair," Sera stuck her tongue out in the direction of the treetops. "Only got one arrow out before you lot."
The forward camp was set up inside a ruined structure of some kind, but if it wasn't for the Inquisition scouts keeping watch at the entrance, it would have been barely recognisable as a building underneath the leafy vines that had long since taken over. Harding was there to greet them with a tired smile on her face.
"Inquisitor, Inquisition," she waved. "Hope you've got your comfortable boots on, we've got a lot of work cut out for us. Like, a lot. To start with, our scouts have seen a number of Fade rifts all over the forest, I've marked them out on the map," she began, handing the map over to Ellethir. "And we've also added what elven structures we've spotted too. Haven't seen your missing Dalish elves yet, or any others. Probably trying to stay out of the line of fire what with the Freemen and the Red Templars. Did I mention we've seen Red Templars, too? Oh, and we've located this mysterious 'Fairbanks." He's—"
"At Watcher's Reach," Ellethir finished for her. "We had a run-in with these Freemen a little earlier. Your scouts did the Inquisition proud."
"Oh! Glad to hear it. Well, just follow the path ahead, and then turn left at the fork, that'll lead you down to Fairbanks' people, it's in a kind of valley…cave…thing. They have people on watch, but they're expecting you. From what we can tell, they're refugees from the war. Peasants, mostly. As for Fairbanks himself, we're not exactly sure. He's got a good writing hand, fancy, and 'Fairbanks' isn't really an Orlesian-sounding name, so it's probably not his real name. He appeared after the civil war started, helping people flee from the destruction, but that's all we've got to work with. He only wants to talk with the Herald of Andraste," Harding waggled her fingers.
"No time to waste, then. We'll head out once the horses are ready."
Fae wandered around the camp for a bit, climbing over fallen bricks and trying to find higher ground to look out from. She came across a statue of a wolf, with no inscription, and paused, surprised to see a statue of Fen'Harel in the ruins of an Orlesian building.
As if reading her mind, Vivienne sauntered over to stand beside her. "The Knight's Guardians," she said, clasping her hands neatly in front of her. "Wolven companions of the fabled elven knights of Halamshiral. It is said that wolf and elf would fight together, sleep together, eat together, and guard each other. Noble, if you don't mind the smell of wild animal."
"Like Grey Wardens and mabari. Or griffons, I guess, back then."
"Indeed. This is a beautiful forest, regardless. A tree planted for every Andrastian warrior who sacrificed their life in the Exalted March."
Solas joined them. "I've heard that each tree was planted in memory of every elven knight who perished in their defense of Halamshiral, but I suppose history and legend favours the victors."
"Your commitment to contrarianism is such a charming hallmark of your character, Solas dear."
"I thank you, Madame Vivienne. I simply came to say the Inquisitor is ready to depart for Watcher's Reach."
At the fork in the road, a statue of Andraste bedecked in warrior's armour stood proudly with her sword raised.
"A monument for those who fought here for Andraste," Cassandra commented.
Fae wrinkled her nose. "That's bullshit. They weren't fighting for Andraste. She was long dead by the time her followers did this. And one of her disciples was an elf, she promised them freedom. She would never have wanted that."
"I had no idea you had such intimate knowledge of Andraste's wishes, Fae."
"I don't think it's a stretch to assume she didn't want elves to be massacred like they were."
"Fae…" Cassandra sighed. "My apologies, I spoke in jest. I did not mean to be insensitive."
Varric snickered. "That's a first."
"Varric," Ellethir warned without looking back. "Play nicely, everyone. We're being watched." She raised her Anchored hand in greeting to a man standing guard at the rocky mouth of the canyon.
He nodded to her. "Fairbanks is expecting you. Watch yourself. I'd like to trust you, but we don't trust anyone much these days."
"We hope to change your mind before we leave," Ellethir nodded back.
Following the downward slope into the narrow canyon, further guards were stationed on the rocks above. A few nodded their heads respectfully, but most just started intently. Entering the camp, it appeared to have once been a structure built within a natural cave, potentially dedicated to Mythal, judging by the owl statue on a far pre-existing wall. The structure had been reinforced with wooden planks, and ramparts had been added for visibility over the rocks.
The camp was busy, and now that they were in the thick of it, Ellethir struggled to get anyone's attention to direct her to Fairbanks. The Iron Bull took care of it, announcing her presence so loudly a few members of their own party jumped, as well as those who happened to be within range. "Inquisitor Lavellan, Herald of Andraste!"
A man with pale, floppy brown hair and neat woollen hunting gear worked his way through the curious onlookers, wiping a hand on his jerkin before offering it to shake Ellethir's. "Welcome! I am Fairbanks. Thank you for coming. It is an honour to meet the Herald of Andraste," he beamed. He wore no mask, but despite his humble appearance, he spoke with the Orlesian lilt of a courtier.
"You're too kind," Ellethir smiled back as they assessed each other.
"As much as I admire you, however, I didn't reach out to the Inquisition for the honour of meeting you," he admitted. "As my missive stated, we can help each other. You have encountered the Freemen? Aggressive bastards, non? They have killed a dozen of my people, our herbalist most recently, I am sorry to say. We are simple people, here. Most have lost family. All have lost their homes. I found a few, helped them, found this cave for shelter," he gestured to the encampment around them. "Word spread, and more came. Even with the war over, some are afraid to leave. We have tried to fight these Freemen, but as I said we are simple people, we cannot match their strength. But you can. Why should you care about this, you ask? Because the Freemen are colluding with your enemy."
Ellethir nodded. "The Red Templars."
"Yes, these rogue templars do have a kind of red glow about them," Fairbanks agreed. "We've seen them through the woods, heading for the Freemen bases, leaving with crates. Destroy the Freemen, and they'll lead you straight to the Red Templars. This, I promise. I know the Dales well. Everything I know, I will share with the Inquisition."
"We'd be grateful. Do you know where we might pick up their trail?"
"I do. There is an old veridium mine nearby, as if the forest was not green enough. It is being held by the Freemen, and overseen by an excommunicated chantry sister, Costeau. Not long ago, several of our refugees attempted to infiltrate the mine to steal supplies. They have not returned, and their loved ones have begun to lose hope. You will find the Freemen there, certainly, but if you can find our missing people too…?"
"We'll do what we can."
"Thank you, Inquisitor. Maker go with you. It is to the northeast of here. If you see a statue of a cloaked figure with its finger pointing, it is pointing in the direction of the mine."
"That would be Falon'din, the Guide. Hopefully he will guide us. Until we meet again, Fairbanks."
The Inquisitor's party did pass the statue, and it helpfully led them on the right path to the veridium mine, where the freemen awaited. Sister Costeau appeared more irritated than threatened when she emerged to confront them, until Cole materialised behind her with his dagger to her throat. He whispered something in her ear, and her expression reflected a mix of emotions in her last few moments. Fairbanks' refugees were imprisoned, but alive; a letter mentioned their potential as test subjects for 'Samson's project,' and another leader of the Freemen, named Duhaime.
Fairbanks confirmed their suspicions when they returned with the freed refugees; this time, the watchers on the walls cheered at their arrival.
"We had given them up for dead," Fairbanks admitted. "We cannot thank you enough. And this Duhaime you speak of… Well, it is good that they have lost a leader in Sister Costeau, but Duhaime does not take prisoners. He is ruthless, even for the Freemen. Most of them are deserters from the war, tired of fighting for a cause in which they've no stake. Now that the cause is gone, their new leaders have been pushing them to take the Dales for themselves, and Duhaime is determined. I do not know his origins, but he is no agitated farmhand, that is for certain."
"Do you know where he is?" Ellethir asked.
"I do not, but I know where another Freemen cell is located, along with its leader. A chevalier named Auguste is holed up at Argon's Lodge. It is well-situated, and well-protected. As esteemed as your companions might be, I would implore you to take your scouts with you, as well as whomever here will volunteer to accompany you."
"If that's the case, we'd appreciate the help. We'll leave early tomorrow for Argon's Lodge, then."
"Good. Drink and eat with us, tonight, you have more than earned it."