The next morning, Fae spotted Varric waiting near the front gates, along with the Herald, and another elf she didn't recognise, a bald man leaning on his staff with a vague smile on his face as he chatted easily with Varric. The dwarf caught her eye, and waved her over. "Shortie! Are you joining us for our journey to the hinterlands?"
"I am," Fae smiled back, gesturing to the pack slung over her shoulder. "Is this all of us?"
"We are still waiting on Seeker Pentaghast," the elven man said.
"She does love making an entrance," Varric joked. "Solas, may I introduce Faellathi Tabris, a good friend of mine and your fellow elven apostate. Fae, Solas."
"Pleasure," Fae nodded.
"The pleasure is mine."
"Technically I'm an elven apostate too," Ellethir pitched in.
Varric shrugged. "Does it really count if you're Dalish?"
"My apologies for making you all wait," Cassandra jogged up to the group, armour clinking in time with her steps. "I was hoping to requisition a cart, that we might bring some supplies to the refugees, but I'm afraid we are barely able to feed ourselves as things stand. As it is, we will be travelling on foot."
"That is very much fine by me," Fae exhaled with obvious relief, setting off down the main road through the tent city.
"I saw many riding in on horseback on my way to the conclave," Ellethir mused.
Cassandra nodded grimly. "The explosion of the Temple of Sacred Ashes reached the stables. What few mounts survived are currently resting from recent journeys. That being said, one of our aims on this journey is to track down a man named Dennet, a renowned Fereldan horse-master; if he is still alive, we may be able to convince him to provide the Inquisition with mounts."
"The more allies, the better."
"Indeed, Herald, indeed."
The walk down the mountains was relatively quiet, punctuated only by Varric and Cassandra's occasional bickering. The group's first destination would be a forward camp, technically within the hinterlands region as patches of grass replaced the snow, but close enough to the Frostbacks that the chill could still be felt and serve as a deterrent for the rebel mages and templars said to be camped out in cells across the wider region.
On their arrival, a young dwarven woman introduced herself as Inquisition Scout Harding and quickly got down to business explaining the seriousness of the situation. The fighting between the mages and the templars had only grown worse since the explosion at the conclave, and the Inquisition scouts had their hands full assisting the local militia, let alone getting as far as the stables run by horse-master Dennet.
Scout Harding led them to the Crossroads, a small village of traders which had gathered over the years at the junction between the road to Redcliffe and the road which led back up towards the Frostbacks. As of late, the number of refugees far outstripped the number of permanent residents, and there were plenty of bedrolls laid out on the bare ground, only a few of which had the added perk of being partly sheltered by makeshift lean-to tents. There were also cots here and there, occupied by the wounded which Mother Giselle was currently tending along with a few healers.
The Herald indicated that the rest of the group stay behind while she spoke to the cleric, leaving them to chat amongst themselves as they waited.
"Tell me, Faellathi, what do you think of our Herald of Andraste?" Solas asked.
"She is… unlike most Dalish," Fae replied hesitantly.
Solas laughed. "I quite understand."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Cassandra asked.
Fae shrugged. "The Dalish are usually too preoccupied protecting themselves and the old ways to care about what happens to anyone else. Ellethir is—or was, her clan's First, and yet she's agreed to join this Inquisition, where everyone hails her as being blessed by the bride of a god she doesn't worship. It's not a bad thing, it's just…not what I expected."
"That's not a fair assumption," Varric protested. "What about Daisy?"
"Merrill was an exception, if her clan was anything to judge by. And besides, she never would have left them if she wasn't trying to reclaim that little bit of elven history, which is a definitively Dalish motivation."
"And your mother? Your aunt?"
Varric instantly regretted bringing up Fae's family as her expression hardened.
"Were exceptions as well."
"I take it you don't share the same passion for reclaiming elven history, then?" Solas asked, artfully redirecting the conversation.
Fae allowed it, forcing her muscles to relax. "I find elven history very interesting, actually, but I usually reserve my passion for the elven present; we are still here after all, you and I. Despite everything."
"Just so."
"Lucky for us, too," Varric added. "Without our elven Herald, demons would still be falling out of the big hole in the sky."
The Herald in question looked back at them then, and waved as she made her way back to them, leaving Mother Giselle to tend to another wounded soldier.
"So, how did it go? What did Mother Giselle have to say?" Fae asked.
"Apparently, some in the Chantry fear us, or me, specifically, and some are mainly worried about how whatever we do might affect the choosing of the next Divine. But, if we can get enough of them to at least doubt the horror stories they've heard, that might be enough. Mother Giselle thinks we should appeal directly to the Chantry in Val Royeaux, so she's going to help Leliana set up a meeting, with those who might listen."
"That is good news, Herald," Cassandra assured her. "In the meantime, the more good we can do while we're here, the better. We are here to help, however we can."
So that's what they did; for the next fortnight, they gathered herbs, shot rams, recovered supplies, anything and everything that the refugees needed as more arrived at the Crossroads every day. They added notes to their maps about where metals, wood or game could be found, and recruited more agents for the Inquisition. They made their way to the farm owned by horse-master Dennet, who was thankfully alive, but in no position to help, with his farm already under threat. The Inquisition had watchtowers built to warn off bandits, while the Inquisitor's own party went to deal with a demon-possessed pack of wolves that had been terrorising the area. That was enough to convince Dennet to lend his horses, and with a word from Cassandra about his Andrastian duty, he agreed to join them as the Inquisition's official stablemaster.
With Ellethir's invaluable assistance, they also managed to close a number of rifts in the Fade which had cropped up across the hinterlands. The closing of each rift, however, meant a tiring battle with whatever demons had already spilled out of it. They hissed, snarled, and lashed out at whatever moved in this unfamiliar realm, leaving the entire party too exhausted to do anything by the time it was over, aside from hobbling back to the closest Inquisition camp to rest.
After one such day, Scout Harding took one look at the tired, drawn faces on the returning party and announced that they would all be remaining at the camp tomorrow; they would rest, so help her, or face her ire. They were all too tired to argue.
When Ellethir woke, it was still dark out. She tossed and turned a bit, trying in vain to reclaim the comfort of falling asleep, but the flickering of her hand persisted, and she was no longer sleepy enough to ignore it. She peeked her head out of the tent; apart from those on watch at the edges of the camp, no one else seemed to be awake. Then lamplight from the edge of her vision caught her eye; the entrance to the tent beside her was partly open. Ellethir crept over, and saw Fae sitting at a small desk. Fae flung something down on the desk, made a frustrated noise, and leaned over with her face in her hands.
"Can't sleep?" Ellethir asked gently, and Fae jumped.
"Shit! Sorry, Herald, I didn't realise you were there."
"Don't apologise. I just came to check on you, I saw your lantern was still lit."
Fae nodded, wiping her hand across her eyes. "I was…Seeing, as Leliana calls it," she nodded to the mismatched jumble of things on the desk; a ribbon, a complex-looking metal device, a flask, a badge. "Things left behind in the accommodations of those who were caught in the explosion at the conclave. I'm trying to use them to confirm their identities, give their loved ones some closure."
"Varric told me about this 'Seeing.' You can see things that have happened near inanimate objects, just by touching them?"
"Not every object, but some, yeah. Nowadays, I can usually tell when there'll be something to see."
"It looked like you were struggling. Is it difficult? Does it hurt?"
She shook her head. "Not in the way you're probably thinking. The owners of these things, none of them had any idea what was coming. How could they? They were nervous about the outcome of the conclave, of course, especially one with so many participants. It was the biggest in living memory, aside from the one held to elect a new Divine. The stakes were high, but they had hope. It was personal, for every single person there. And knowing what happened next…" Fae's voice faltered. "That's what makes their memories difficult to watch."
Ellethir frowned. "You shouldn't push yourself. Did Leliana tell you to do this?"
Fae laughed weakly. "I offered to do this, and besides, you overestimate Leliana's influence over me. She asked me to come to Haven, which I did because she is important to me, but when she asked me to join the Inquisition, I only agreed because I wanted to."
"Even though it means working with Commander Cullen? There's clearly a history between you, I heard you got into a pretty fierce argument after the small council meeting."
"Yeahhh, there was that. But the Inquisition needs him, and that's what matters the most, right now. Don't let our bickering worry you, Herald," Fae reassured her. "It's just…I would just be wary of getting too close to him. He doesn't see mages like you and me as… the same way he sees other people."
"What do you mean?"
Fae shook her head dismissively. "It doesn't matter, forget I said anything. We're all on your side, Herald, that's what matters. And I should say goodnight, these trinkets have nothing more to say."
"Of course. Goodnight, Faellathi."
"Goodnight, Herald."