The faintest ghost of a headache still nudged at Ellethir's skull a couple of days later when she entered the war room, her advisors already talking amongst themselves.

"Inquisitor," Josephine curtsied. "Now that we have returned, it's time to plan our next move."

The Inquisitor looked from advisor to advisor, and they all looked back, expectantly.

"Is something wrong, Inquisitor?"

"Where is Morrigan?"

"Morrigan?" Cullen looked confused. "Why would Morrigan be here?"

"Empress Celene has lent us her arcane advisor to serve as ours instead, Commander," Leliana answered for Ellethir.

"She also has an eluvian," Fae added. "That's why she's taking so long. Bringing it here will be difficult."

Ellethir's temples throbbed. "What's an eluvian?"

"It's, uh, a mirror," Fae explained lamely. "Ancient. Elven. It'll be easier to explain when it's here, probably."

Ellethir squinted. "Right, fine."

Josephine offered Ellethir a cup. "Tea, Inquisitor?"

"Thanks Josephine. Sorry, headache. So, what's our status?"

"Markedly improved, Inquisitor," Josephine replied. "Our alliance with Orlais is functional, for the present. Grand Duke Gaspard, may the Maker bless him and keep him, was executed at dawn this morning, along with his sister." Josephine paused for a moment, then continued. "That being said, Orlais officially has no heirs to its throne, but with the civil war ostensibly over, the empire is technically stable. The empress may call on us to put down any remaining disputes as necessary, which brings us to my next point. We now have permission from the Crown to quell disorder and to establish temporary Inquisition strongholds as we see fit throughout Orlais, including those we have already claimed, namely Griffon Wing Keep and Suledin Keep. Commander?"

"With Orlais' backing, we will continue what we started in Emprise Du Lion," Cullen said determinedly. "Take back Orlais from the Venatori piece by piece. They still have a foothold in the Western Approach even after the events at Adamant, although there's a good chance they're already been on the move since we disrupted their plans in Emprise Du Lion and Halamshiral. Our scouts have sighted Venatori as far as the outskirts of the Hissing Wastes."

"Why are they still out there?" Ellethir frowned.

"Hard to say. There are old mining sites, but anything of value they might have once had was stripped bare centuries ago."

Leliana cleared her throat. "I have a few guesses, but nothing confirmed yet. We'll find out. Lead Scout Harding is already scouting the area, more thoroughly this time. Our last scouting missions in the Western Approach were only to ensure our forces would be able to reach Adamant, but if the Venatori are still there looking for something, it's vital that we find it first."

"Then we're headed back to the desert," Ellethir said reluctantly. "Very well, then. What about Corypheus himself, do we know where he is yet?"

"No," Cullen admitted. "But we believe our best chance of finding him lies in locating members of his own inner circle- Samson, in particular, the leader of the red templars. I've read the correspondences you found in Sahrnia's quarry, Inquisitor, most of which were written by Samson or addressed to him. The most concerning subject was his description of an order for specially-made armour, to be somehow fortified by red lyrium."

"Idiot," Fae shook her head. "Touching red lyrium alone will make you go mad, let alone wearing it. Has he not noticed what becomes of his Red Templars eventually?"

"Whether he's making a martyr of himself or not, it would also make him difficult to take down. Without his demon army, Corypheus will be relying more heavily on the army he already has," Cullen explained. "Arcanist Dagna and I will work on identifying potential weaknesses of such a suit of armour, while our scouts hunt down the caravans full of red lyrium needed for Samson's project. Hopefully, those caravans will lead us to the man himself. Or what's left of the man himself, at any rate."

"Then let's get to it," Ellethir clapped her hands together. "We leave for the Western Approach tomorrow, we have no time to waste. Josephine, how goes our dance with the dowager marquise?"

"It goes well, so far, Inquisitor. In fact…"

Fae tried her best to pay attention as the meeting trotted along, but war council meetings had a habit of dragging on…and on…and on. She'd have her notes to look back on later, anyway, having decided to take a more literal leaf out of Josephine's book these days. While the others talked, she wrote notes on what they were talking about, and occasionally added to the conversation herself, but mostly, she wrote notes. Sometimes the act of writing itself was the only thing keeping her awake and focused during the sessions, especially the early morning ones Josephine insisted on, so that the ambassador could spend the rest of the day following up on everything they'd covered in their session.

Even so, she was glad to be released back into the wild, marching herself straight back to her room, turning the sign on her door over to the 'Fuck off' side, and closing said door behind her, leaning against it with a relieved sigh. Then, she heard it. The quiet pitter-patter of careful boots, and stifled giggling. Fae worked quickly, drawing forth bits of the Veil she could weave to make her disappear, and reducing the sound of her own breathing as much as possible. The door creaked open slowly, and the Seer, standing motionless behind it, was not surprised to hear the devious cooing noises that Sera made whenever she thought of a really good prank, but Fae was surprised to see Ellethir stepping inside and closing the door after her.

"Does this even do anything?" Sera held up the crystal ball that sat at Fae's tea table.

"I don't sense any magic, if that's what you mean," Ellethir shrugged. "It's probably a fake version of something real."

"D'you reckon it would be worth anything?"

"Sera…"

"Just asking the question! Stealing isn't a prank. I mean, it can be, under the right conditions, but…" Sera gasped and ran over to Fae's bed, lounging across it dramatically. "This is a nice bed. Do you think she still has any pirate treasure from when she lived with Captain Isabela?"

"I don't know, maybe? We probably shouldn't be going through her things, Sera."

"I know, I know. She's still all sad and mopey, and whatever we find in the desert is probably going to make her even sadder and mopier. Focus! What can we do…? Something with the bedposts? We could rig something up so that when she gets out of bed, she moves her foot and it triggers—wait, no, then we'd have to come back and attach the thingy to the other thingy while she's asleep…hm…"

Ellethir turned to the door, unaware that Fae was standing a few inches away. Fae held her breath. "Could we do something with the door, like with Josephine's office?"

Sera hopped off the bed to join Ellethir. "I guess, but we already did that, it's only funny the first time."

Fae grinned, dropping her spell. "I think it's a great idea."

Ellethir shouted in surprise and Sera squawked, leaping into Ellethir's arms. "MAKER'S BALLS! FAE!"

"What are you doing here?" Ellethir blurted out, cheeks pinkening with embarrassment.

Fae laughed. "This is my room, what are you doing here?"

"How'd you know we were coming?" Sera croaked.

"Cullen has a wonky desk, Josephine got a bucket of water dumped on her head by her own door, and six of Leliana's ravens now have very purple droppings, " Fae listed off. "Of course I knew I was next." She leaned forward to whisper. "I want in. Who's next?"

Ellethir merely looked relieved that Fae wasn't angry with them, and Sera's grin was practically demonic. "Inky's grumpy hahren," she sang.

"What?!"

Fae's grin matched Sera's. "Perfect."

The elf trio discussed their plan in hushed voices as they headed over to the Great Hall. "He heard us when we were working on Leliana's prank, he'll notice if we try anything on him," Ellethir protested.

"We didn't have a secret weapon then," Sera giggled, gesturing to Fae with her thumb. "Spooky-eyes here can go invisible and scout ahead for us, make sure he's not in!"

"Can do."

"See?!"

They stopped at the fireplace outside Solas' office, the first floor of a tower connected to the central Great Hall. Varric was, as usual, at his desk nearby; he preferred to write with the hum of constant chatter in the background, like he did at the Hanged Man. He looked up when they arrived, and raised his eyebrows. "This looks like trouble. What're you three up to?"

"Nothing!" Sera chirped gleefully, positioning Fae in between herself, Ellethir and the large desk so that Fae could disappear without drawing attention.

"Uh huh," Varric grunted, unconvinced, and returned to his letters.

Luckily for Fae, the door to Solas' office was already slightly ajar; all she had to do was lightly knock it a little to make it seem like it caught a breeze. She crept through the short hallway and scanned her surroundings, hiding a little behind the entrance to the main chamber, and saw no one. The coast was clear. She dropped her spell again, ran back, and poked her head out of the door to whisper. "He's not here!"

"Coming through!" Sera practically skipped inside with Ellethir in tow. "Oooh."

The room looked partially renovated; every original stone in the brick floor was cracked, and half the furniture was unused, covered in white cloths and pushed to the nearest wall, along with a spare pile of wooden planks. But what furnishings were in use were beautiful. The desk in the middle of the circular room stood upon a delicately-embroidered rug, the couch and the chairs were all perfectly upholstered. There were curved bronze braziers to light the room, and matching flowerpots held fresh embriums. The most humble piece was a raised wooden platform with a ladder attached, and small wheels under each of the platform's corners. On the platform itself, a bundle of blankets and furs were shoved to one side.

"Is that where he sleeps?" Sera asked incredulously, reading Fae's mind. The blonde elf scampered up the ladder to get a closer look. "Looks comfy enough, I suppose, 'til you roll over and fall off the side. Now there's an image."

"Look at these," Ellethir said happily, taking Fae's hand and leading her. "He paints them himself."

The walls were painted in colourful geometric shapes and symbols, each one blending seamlessly into the next. About a quarter of the wall remained untouched, the new plaster filling the gaps still waiting to be painted. "I recognise some of these," Fae said, pointing. "That's the Grey Warden sigil. That's Corypheus, with the Anchor, that's the Inquisition sigil… is this the story of the Inquisition?"

"Yes," Ellethir beamed. "Aren't they beautiful? I've seen frescoes like these before, in ancient elven ruins. Solas must have seen them too, in his travels. I could never replicate them like this, though."

Sera slid back down the ladder to join them. "…What are those wolves underneath for?"

"Probably the demon-possessed wolves we fought in the Hinterlands, in return for Master Dennet's horses," Ellethir guessed. "One of our first victories as the Inquisition."

"Then this is our latest victory," Fae moved to a spot on the wall with the faint outlines of men and women in Orlesian finery.

Sera dipped a finger into a bucket of paint nearby, curiously watching it drip back in. "What happens if we have too many victories for him to paint and he runs out of room?"

"Maybe he'll go upstairs and start painting the rest of the tower."

Ellethir joined them. "If we're going to do something, we should do it quickly before he comes back."

"Right!" Sera looked at the paint bucket, then back to the group. "Let's add a fresco of our own. Just a little one, small enough that he won't notice straightaway, until he starts painting this bit."

"Alright, but what do we paint?"

Sera placed one flat palm on the paint bucket's surface, then pressed it to the wall, near the floor, leaving one white handprint. "Just that. Your turn, Inky." Ellethir added hers next to Sera's, and Fae went next.

They looked at their paint-coated hands. "Hm. Hopefully one of these buckets is water, not paint. For his brushes." A few minutes of searching later, they found one, and washed off the evidence as best they could.

"We really should go, now," Ellethir whispered. Then they heard footsteps coming- not from the direction of the door they came through, but the door on the other side which connected the tower to the battlements. "Go go go!" All three clambered up the ladder to hide out of sight on the raised platform.

Solas walked in, and stopped. Sniffed. "Is someone there?"

He definitely heard no muffled gasp, no soft giggling. He definitely couldn't figure out what that odd sound was that sounded an awful lot like three pairs of boots slipping and sliding down the ladder behind him, nor did he hear the door he'd just walked through reopen and close on its own. And he definitely didn't hear those three pairs of boots fleeing across the stone battlements. Must have been the wind.