The Come On Inn was almost empty at this time of night, the dusty tavern only illuminated by two candles sitting on the bar. The Dwarven barkeep stood, wiping ale mugs with a cloth that looked to be somehow dirtier than the grimy bar. He stopped and pointed at my empty glass: “More?” He asked. I nodded, holding the glass out, and he ducked beneath the bar to pick up a wine jug. He began pouring it into my glass and I thanked him, putting the glass to my lips.

“So,” The barkeep began, “What brings you here?”

I swallowed the wine quickly. What could I say?

That it was the niggling doubt in my mind the moment I signed up for Gaspard’s army? That the war was very different to the games I played as a child? The feeling of my sword slicing through flesh and muscles? The screams and cries of my fellow soldiers dying and in pain?

Or maybe it was the moment I set fire to my hometown. The walk through the ruins, looking at the corpses of my old neighbours and friends. The feeling of the charred hands of my mother’s corpse. The knowledge that I killed her.

What about the moment the Breach opened? Fiery demons and twisted terrors falling from the sky. The sheer terror of realising we were simply outmatched. For each demon we dispatched two more appeared from the strange tears in the Fade.

The agreement between my troops and I to abandon our post and this ridiculous, pointless, fucking war. The following two weeks of running through the forests of the Dales, the greenish light of the Breach illuminating the forest floor. My lungs heavy with sickness, unable to breathe. Alex’s too. His pleas as we saw the lights of the village. “Please Liana, we need rest. Can’t we just go inside?” He plead, voice ragged and breathless.

The desire to stop running.

Possibly even this pigs piss that the barkeep calls wine.

I stirred my ‘wine’ with my finger and sighed. “The lights in the window.” I finally answered, my voice flat.

The barkeep chortled and turned to place the ‘clean’ mugs back on a shelf. “You don’t talk much do you?”

“Not really.”

“It’s alright.” He replied, his voice lifting. “I can chat enough for both of us. I once had a friend who was a storyteller. Do you want to hear the story of how I ended up in Denerim with no pants and not a copper to my name?” He asked, leaning on the bar.

“Why not?” I replied with a small smirk, leaning back in my seat.

I woke to the sun streaming through the window, my head aching from all the wine. It messed with my meagre vision, causing my eyes to blur. “Ugh,” I grumbled, looking over to my brother’s bed. “Alec?” I called to no response: He was gone. “That… That little shit. Where is he?” I pulled on my leggings and boots, shoved two knives in my belt, and rushed down the stairs. I threw 10 silver on the bar, calling out to the disgruntled barkeep “Another night!” and ran from the tavern.

The tiny village square was packed with traders and refugees, who had set up a small tent village in an oval. The sun overhead indicated it was at least noon (I’d obviously slept for far longer than I thought). I squinted, ignoring the pleas from the jeweller to buy his wares, and stood looking for Alec. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I saw a small man with a black mop of hair moving through the crowd. “Ah!” I exclaimed, and moved as quickly as I could through the pack of people. As I gained on my brother, I grabbed him by the back of his tunic, causing him to squirm. “Where the hell have you been? You should have woken me!”

“You looked like you needed the sleep.” The green-eyed boy shrugged, turning to face me. “Anyway, I have a plan.”

“A plan?” I asked sceptically. He nodded and pushed me from the crowd. As we reached the edge of the market I pulled him back towards me. “What plan?”

“Them.” He replied, pointing to a slim, gangly human man with cropped blonde hair and pink wind-burnt skin, and a short, plump Elven woman with tan skin and shoulder length curly brown hair. Both were dressed in basics, but I could see the blue piping of Celene’s forces on their tunics and leggings.

“By getting us arrested for treason?!” I hissed. “You’re not acting like a man with 15 sovereigns on his head!”

In my hungover blur, I hadn’t noticed the people walk over. “And I’m not acting like a man with 25 sovereigns on my head.” The tall man said with a hint of condescension. “Liana, isn’t it? We met on the Exalted Plains.” He reached out his hand to shake mine, but I kept my hand by my side.

I looked back at him with some confusion. “I’m sorry but-“

“I understand. I’m far more difficult to recognise now.” He said, dipping his head. His brown eyes looked sorrowful. “Miguel de Freyen. Once a duchess, now nothing.” Ah, yes. He had changed. “Well, I like the-“ I began, but he interrupted me to introduce the Elf.

“This is my companion, Elyse.”

Elyse spoke in a small silvery voice, unexpected from her sharp appearance. “How do you do?” I could not see, but I could feel an odd energy permeate from her. It sent a shiver down my spine. A mage? Maybe?

I looked over to Alec, who stood, his cherub face still smiling. Really? “I’m- well. Thank you.” I responded awkwardly.

“Great. Great.” Alec replied with his usual cheer. “Now, let’s get inside so we can give her the plan.”

Elyse led the way, followed by Miguel and Alec. I grabbed the latter by the arm of his tunic. “We’re going into some hole with a General in Celene’s army and a fucking mage?” I hissed angrily. “What part of this seemed like a good idea to you?”

“Keep up.” Elyse called softly, swiftly moving through the streets.

“The part where we get some help. You understand we’re two penniless soldiers, right?” Alec hissed back, pulling his arm from my grasp. I sighed and reached for the knives on my belt. It was good to have some protection.

We reached an old beaten farm house, which looked like it had been left to the dogs. Elyse murmured a few words, then pushed open the splintered wooden door. Two sleeping bags lay on the floor, with a lantern between. There was a kettle hanging in the fireplace and some pots and pans beside. Other than, the room was near empty, excepting an old table and half-burnt kitchen counter. Elyse walked over to the fire and gestured for us to sit down. I sat down on one of the sleeping bags and traced figure 8s on the dusty floor with the blade of my knife.

“This used to be her old home.” Miguel murmured quietly.

“What happened to her family?” Alec asked, looking at the dust and mess.

“Press ganged.” Elyse answered matter-of-factly, sitting down on the windowsil. “Just like me.”

I swallowed hard, and looked down into my lap. Many troops were forced into the war. Elves were often targeted- no-one seemed to care if they were gone. Looking up, I saw the others eyes focused on me. “Well, what’s this plan?” I asked harshly.

“We’re going to join The Order of Val Foret.” Miguel replied, pushing a poster into my lap. “Elyse and I, we heard they’ll take anyone. Apostates, the Dalish, even the Vints. Thought we might as well give it a go.” I looked down at the poster, it was plain, scrawled on brown parchment, advertising paid work in a city guard type company. I went to speak, but Miguel continued. “The road here was pretty damn dangerous, even with Elyse’s fire,” So, my instincts were right. “-and we don’t really want to hire protection. That costs money. A lot of money if we don’t want them to turn us in.”

I straightened up and looked Elyse in the eye. “What suggests I won’t turn you in?” I asked them.

Alec answered. “Your bounty’s been increased. 30 sovereigns for you. They must really miss their Captain.” He reached out for my hand. “And do you really want to go back to Gaspard just to hand them in?”

“Both sides are losing.” Elyse continued. “Besides, with this Breach opened, who knows what I will do. People are targeting mages like never before.”

“Well, perhaps they’re right to do so.” I replied coldly. I’d had enough of whatever this was. How was this plan going to benefit Alec and I? Miguel walked over and began to rub Elyse’s back, giving me an evil stare.

Alec let my hand go. “Liana. Enough.” He said sternly. “We can’t outrun the army forever. The posters with our names haven’t reached this village, but there are plenty of refugees with their eye on us. We might as well try for this Order. They won’t turn us away.”

He had the optimism of a child. I sighed. I couldn’t resist my brother’s pleas. “Fine.” I replied. “We’ll give it a shot.” I looked over to Elyse and Miguel. “I’m sorry. I’ll be here at 8 tomorrow morning. Do you have horses?” I asked flatly.

“No.” Miguel replied.

“We’ll have to ride two on each.” I mentally calculated our needs. “I’ll need some money for food and provisions.”

Miguel walked over to the table and placed 40 silver in my hand. “You’ll get more later.”

“Merci.” I replied, placing the coins in my pouch. “I’ll leave you to it. Come on Alec.” The boy nodded, and dutifully followed me from the house. I noticed a tight look on Miguel’s face as I left. He and Elyse seemed as nervous as I had.

Three hours later we had rope, two water skins, dried fruit and jerky, canvass, and other assorted items. As I packed them into my bag I pulled out a scorched, silver jewellery box. I placed the ring inside on my right hand and held back a tear. I’m sorry Mama.

Part 4

Part 6

13th of Bloomingtide

I was in the yard, drilling Sentinels on proper counters. Zar and Alessia were on either side of me, watching. Though while they were merely observing, I was studying. Each Sentinels movements, their subtle twists, little tiny details, I made note of them all. Garik needs to work on his footing, his right foot extends too much. Arica doesn’t twist her wrist enough. They’ve improved, all have. It’s not enough though.

Zar went through the courtyard, tapping, calling, and telling the Sentinels to focus on me for a moment. “Good work today. That was a quite the improvement.” The Sentinels silently stared at me, a couple breathing heavily. “Rest easy now. Tomorrow will be much harder.” A couple Sentinels grumbled at that. “If it rains tomorrow, that is. I want all of you to get a feel for combat in the rain. If it doesn’t rain, you have the day off.” Some smiled at that. A couple were whispering to each other wondering what tomorrow’s training would be.

“Dismissed.” I commanded with a wave. The Sentinels walked off towards the insides of the Crown. Some mumbled about going to the bath house.

I let out a heavy sigh, one that Zar noticed. “Something wrong?”

I shook my head. “Cad gave them the basics and some more advanced teachings. They’re Sentinels sure. The battle at the rift gave them raw experience, made them realize what they’re up against, what battle is really like. But they still lack finesse, the skill required.” I turned around and faced my two companions. “I fear Cad put too much stock in them. We might hold out for a bit, but we’ll be rolled over. They still need work.”

Zar went silent, while Alessia frowned at pointed towards the courtyard. “That’s their blood and sweat. They want to get their too.”

“A want is not always good enough. A need is. They have to have a need.” I sighed again. “If it rains tomorrow, they will have that need.”

They both nodded. As I was about to dismiss them, a Sentinel comes running up. In full gear, out on patrol. But he’s early…

“Commander it’s The Roughs. Well, one of them.”

The air changed around us. “Where?” I asked, my voice going raspy. I was clutching my cane, my knuckles going white.

“Down by the market square ser. Big sword, big man, stirring up trouble. Said he wanted to face you.”

“Get me a horse.” I ordered, the Sentinel ran off. Zar placed a hand on my shoulder as the Sentinel ran off.

“You okay? I’ve never seen you like this before. It’s kind of scary.” I could hear Alessia move to Zar, pulling up beside him.

“Your knee gonna be okay?” The mage asked quietly. I nodded slowly.

I turned to them, Zar looking quite shocked. “You two will follow, this might be a trap, it might not be. Be ready for war.” They nodded slowly, and disappeared into the Crown, leaving me all alone. Not a war I wanted to bring them in, but here we are.

I hopped off my horse, Zar and Alessia followed suit. A large man in armor stood in the center of the square. His arms were crossed against his chest, and a large axe hung on his back. I motion for my two companions to stay by the horses as I approached the man in armor.

“Rickard.” He said flatly, “you finally arrived. I was wondering when my hollering and shouting would bring you down from your castle.” Disdain for me dripped from his voice. Despite wearing a helmet, he was loud. Unlike you Cad, you were always so quiet.

“You want to explain why? Oskar send you? Or were you just out for a stroll, looking for a fight?” I put my helmet on and rested my hands on the hilts of my swords. This is going to turn into a fight. He picked a terrible place for himself though, unless that’s what he wants.

“I wanted to see you myself. Roland talked of wanting to fight you, and he hasn’t talked about anyone in years.” The big man grabbed his long two handed axe from his back and readied it. “Let’s see how you fair.”

I unsheathed my swords and clenched my teeth. “Before we begin, what is your name?”

I heard the big man snort from underneath his black helm, “Edward.”

You’ll die today Edward. As I lunged at him, the big man raised his axe in the air and slammed it into the ground, sending bits of stone flying. I dodged it, pivoting away while he recovered. Using the opportunity, I struck at his legs, only for his armor to deflect my swords. Dammit. He’s a bloody juggernaut. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Edward swing his axe. I duck, only for him to bring a mailed fist across my head.

I stumbled back, stunned by the hit. Him and Cad would’ve gotten along… I think. I shook myself out of the daze, just as Edward brought down his axe again. I back stepped, and countered by lunging forward at Edward. This caught him off guard, and one of my swords managed to cut him in the arm, right where the thin chainmail appears. He grunts, and throws a punch. I dodge it and this time stab him in between the chest and waist. He lets out a shocked gasp, and releases his grip on his massive axe.

“Roland… Was right… About you…” The big man stumbled back and landed hard on the ground. I didn’t want to risk him getting back up, in case he was making the stab appear more wounding than it was. I planted a boot on his helmet and stabbed him in the neck. A sick gurgling came from him before he went silent.

Satisfied, I sheathed my swords and heard clapping from one of the stalls.

“Well done Rickard. You did very well.” A man wearing a mask appeared. Oskar.

“You set him up to fail.” I said, clenching a fist.

“Oh no, he was as test. I wanted to see if that last battle was a fluke or not.” Oskar looked over to Edwards motionless body, blood now beginning to pool beside it. “Seems like it wasn’t.” The masked man walked over with some swagger, tapping his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I’m not much of a fighter, but how about it?” In one swift motion, Oskar unsheathed the sword and pointed it towards me. “First to draw blood?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. Perhaps he poisoned his blade? I sheath one of my swords and touch swords with him. “Fine. Than you’ll tell me where Roland is.”

Oskar laughed and stepped back. I vaulted forward, swinging my sword low. He barely dodged it, his black jerkin tears at the edge of my blade. He swings high, going for my neck. Deftly, I tilted my head away, my body from it. In doing so, I raised my sword to the side of Oskar’s neck. Our two weapons touched the sides of each other's necks. I grinned, Oskar chortled.

The two of us took several paces back, this was meant to be a duel. It is not a fight to the death, something I would like to avoid if possible. Oskar has valuable information on Roland. I will need to pry it from him another time. For now… I pointed my sword downward and moved cautiously forward. Oskar too was moving forward cautiously. Oskar made the first move, taking a leaping step forward at me. His speed was incredible, as I barely parried his strike away. In return, I went for a strike at his legs, trying to catch him off balance. Swiftly, he danced around my blade and tried to strike at my shoulder. I pivoted away from his strike and swung my sword at his, forcing it down and away.

Oskar brought his sword back up, forcing mine up as well. We locked blades trying to push each other’s swords out of our hands. Little tiny sparks flew from the clash of steel.

“You’re pretty good.” I said through gritted teeth.

“And you’re the first one I’ve met to keep up with me.” He relaxed the pressure he was putting on his sword, allowing me to shove it aside and cut him cleaning on his side. The cut wasn’t deep, shallow really, but blood was drawn. “Bravo.” Oskar answered, sheathing his sword and clapping. “I’ll be seeing you around, Rickard.”

I sheathed my sword and watched the man disappear into the shadows of an alleyway. Alessia and Zar came running up behind me with a couple Sentinels in tow.

“Everything alright Commander?” Zar’s voice had concern laced with a hint of confusion. The two Sentinels went to work on searching Edward’s body.

“I’m fine.” My answer was soft and quiet. I took off my helmet, letting a gentle breeze go through my hair. I could feel a pain shoot up from my leg, originating from my knee. I visibly winced. Pushed myself too hard. At least I didn’t use ‘it’. Alessia came by and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Come now, looks to me you’ll need to rest. No training for the next little while.” She could tell that it would be bad for the next while. Perhaps it was her magic? Her experience? I know naught of these things, but only that she knows.

I nodded grimly and turned to Zar. “Train the Sentinels tomorrow on advanced spear techniques. If they give you trouble, send one to grab me from my office.” I limped slowly away from the square, back towards the Crown. “I believe there is some paperwork that I still need to do, some requisition forms that need to be completed, a meeting with the nobles in the future…” I trailed off, realizing that Zar didn’t care about that crap. I shook my head, letting out a sigh. “We’ll need to have that special training done another time.” Zar nodded, and went off ahead. He’ll be good with the Sentinels.

Alessia strode alongside me. “We can stop and I can take a look at your knee, if you’d like.” She seemed enthusiastic, or at least excited to help.

I shook my head. “Not here, in the Crown. Though… I would like to wait till tomorrow morning, if that’s alright with you?”

She raised an eyebrow, then smiled. “Of course Commander. Whatever you say.”

I smiled in return, looking up towards the Crown. And hopefully in the future, this is all you’ll need to heal.

Part 3

Part 5

12th of Bloomingtide

The dark forest surrounds me, suffocating me. I can see the woman in white, calling me, leading me away from it. My salvation, my hope. I chase after her, running through the thick forest. The woman in white leads me into an open field, grass swaying softly in the wind. She’s standing in the middle of the field, white dress flowing with the wind. I run to her, but she disappears behind the shadowy figures of armed men. The figures keep appearing, surrounding me. I unsheath my swords and charge at them, cutting them down. No matter how many I cut down, more appear. I scream in despair at the amount of them. They start attacking me, cuts taking away my armor, leaving me with nothing. One stabs me through the back, I fall forward into a pool of my own blood. When I open my eyes, I’m surrounded by the dark forest, suffocating me.

I awoke with my bed in disarray. My skin was soaked with sweat, and I was seated completely upright. I was breathing heavily, and my hands were shaking. That nightmare again. I knew why I was having it, and why it keeps coming back. It’s hard to let go, to free yourself of guilt and pain. When the pain becomes one with your being. Cadwgan kept his physical, mine is more of the mind.

I eased myself back to lie down. I brought the covers up, but dared not close my eyes again. This nightmare would come back to me if I did. For a long time, I thought it was a demon plaguing my mind, or a disgruntled mage. It had to been from outside, that someone was after me. I thought perhaps Beaumont had known I survived, so that he sent someone to make me go insane. What a fool I was.

It only dawned on me a month after I had exacted my revenge on that family. A month of restful sleep, followed by a week of nightmares.

A yawn escaped me, and I dozed back to sleep. I awoke again a couple hours later, feeling a bit more rested. I crawled out of bed, grabbed my cane and put on some clothes. Alessia isn’t here. She must have dropped by while I was asleep. I looked over at my bed and shrugged. My knee isn’t too bad today. I’ll manage.

Soon as I opened the door to my room to leave, a Sentinel handed me a letter. “Commander, an elf with a scarred face wanted me to give this to you. He said he knew you.” I frowned as I took the letter.

“Thank you… You are dismissed.” I said. I closed the door behind him and hobbled over to my desk.

I opened the letter and read it over.

Hey, I know it’s been a really long time. Twelve years in fact, I kept count. I’ve been busy since the fire, healing, farming, smuggling, mercenary work. Almost joined the army, but we can go over that when we meet. If this letter gets to you, I’ll be at the Alienage gate around noon. Bring a couple friends along, especially Cad. I’m sure he’d love to see me again.

I furrowed my brow. An elf? Could it be… No. Not possible, we couldn’t find the body.

I looked over the letter a couple more times. No hidden messages, looks like his writing… I took in a deep breath and leaned back in the chair. If he is alive… I got up from the chair and hobbled over to the door, cane tapping along the floor. A sentinel saluted me as I walked by. I saluted in return and kept a brisk pace. My knee responded by sending pain, but I forced myself to keep going. I have to know.

I kept my pace up till I got closer to the Alienage. My knee was killing me. A couple people looked onward, confused and perhaps concerned. When I reached the Alienage, I was tired, sweat beading on my forehead. I took a seat on a bench and waited for this elf to appear.

A couple hours past, and an elf sat beside me on the bench. At first, I wasn’t too sure if it was just a lone traveling elf, one from the Alienage, or a member of The Roughs. I yawned and looked over to the elf, who was staring at me.

“Man, you’ve aged like shit.”

I snickered at the elf’s comment. I’m glad to see you survived. “It’s good to see you too Zar.”

He let out a wild laugh, clutching his stomach and nearly falling off the bench. “I’m sorry, I’m just remembering something you said to me a long time ago.”

I frowned. “Which was?”

“That you wouldn’t age.” This time, he fell off the bench and kept laughing. His garb he was wearing was vastly different from what I remembered. He’s showing off skin? Whatever clothing he’s wearing, looks very light. Robe-like.

Zar calmed down and sat down beside me again. “I’m sorry about Talia. I truly am.” This time he put a hand on my shoulder. I nodded slowly.

“So what brings you here? Don’t think it’s a social visit.” I rested my hands on my cane and looked over towards the Alienage. Some elves were watching us.

“Work, I want to work under you again.” He paused. “Or Cad, whoever is in charge, just like old times.”

I clenched my teeth and swallowed hard. Dammit, he doesn’t know.

“Cad is…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I just looked down at the ground, trying to find the words.

Zar stared at me, I could feel it. I could hear him go ‘oh’ and lean back on the bench.

“You catch the fucker that killed him at least?” His voice was filled with disbelief and anger. “Only someone who was tough and quick could have killed him, which means you got him, right!?” When I didn’t answer, he yelled out and slammed his fist into the side of the bench.

“It’s Roland.” I said. Zar’s eyes widened and nodded. “I’ve killed one of The Roughs, and now me and them are having a little war. I need to train, and I might need you to help fight them.” Zar nodded again. His anger seemed to have disappeared and a smile was back on his face.

“Of course. Tara and Leah, are they still around?”

I pointed in the direction of the Frostbacks. “I told them to bring Cad’s ashes home, to his parents. Hopefully they haven’t run into any trouble.” Zar nodded again, and stood up from the bench.

“Come on, let’s head to your base.”

I laughed, using my cane as support, I stood up. “Not my base. I’m just the commander. I’m not even the boss really, but I’ll fill you in on those details later.” I gestured towards the Crown. “This way.”

Zar followed me, like he did years ago. While he wasn’t a founding member, I always sort of thought of him as one. A good head on his shoulders, not letting his time in the Alienage bring him down. As curious as I was to learn how he survived the fire, I figured it was best not to pry right now. Catching up and avoiding any unnecessary… issues would be better.

We didn’t say much, as Zar was more or less taking in the sights. His eyes widened at The Crown.

“My oh my… This place is bigger than our old place!” The guards nodded as I lead Zar through the gates. His mouth dropped once we were inside the courtyard. “Holy shit…”

I chuckled and limped towards the other side of the courtyard. “You can bunk in one of the barracks. Some of the Sentinels can be a bit rough…” I said as one walked by without so much as glancing at me. “But that’s because they adored Cad.” My voice soft as I opened the door and ushered Zar in.

I led Zar to my room, sat down behind my desk and poured us a drink. “Tantervale whiskey, aged twenty years.” I said, raising my mug in the air.

“I thought Tantervale didn’t have liquor?” The elf asked raising his mug in the air. We toasted, and downed the drinks. I put a finger to my mouth and smiled. Zar laughed.

“Onto business now…” I said, clearing my desk of some papers. “If your wanting to work under me again, than you need to become a Sentinel, or be on as a mercenary. Choice is yours.”

Zar leaned back casually, taking in the bare room. “Does it matter? You know what I want.”

I sighed and just put him in as a mercenary. “Alright, well you’re a mercenary than. But, you’ll be under my command and mine alone. Understood?”

Zar nodded, gazing around the room. “If High Sentinel Lobrandt or Spymaster Dareth’El ask you to do something, you come to me. As well, you’ll be my sparring partner, seeing as you’re almost as good as me.” I snickered at my last comment.

Zar frowned and leaned forward in the chair. “We’ll see about that.” He said with a grin.

“Than you are dismissed. I’ll assume you’ll grab your things from whatever inn you decided to stay at.”

“Aye sir.” The elf answered mockingly, got up from his chair and left. I laughed and shook his head.

“He hasn’t changed.”

“So, I was thinking,” Gyre said, as he knocked me down for the second time in five minutes. He spun the maul in his hands, readying it for me to stand. I stayed on my hand and knees, catching my breath. I still had my arming sword, and my training shield was still strapped to my aching arm.

“You should talk to the boy,” Gyre continued. I rose to my feet, bringing my sword up to catch him in the chest He stepped back, my blade whistling past his breast plate. I turned the backswing into a blow at his side, which he took on his left pauldron. My arm shivered with the impact. He slammed the butt of his maul into my breast plate, trying to force me off my feet. I slammed my shield into his left arm, striking at the joint of his elbow.

“Boy’s old enough to listen, not old enough to think he knows better,” he said, voice strained as we pushed against each other, our faces a handbreadth apart. He took a step forward, my boots sliding on the dirt. I brought my arming sword against his shoulder armor, raining blows with blade and pommel. His armor rang like a bell. Gyre shoved, pushing me back and away. He kicked, and I blocked it on my shield. I stepped around the blow of his maul, the wooden head digging into the dirt. I slammed my shield into his head, and he staggered back. He brought his maul sideways, low and into my legs. I fell hard, taking the worst of the fall on my shield. I scrambled to my feet as he danced backwards, light on his feet for a big man in full armor, the chains on his helmet ringing against the plate.

“See, the way the lads and lasses see it, you got a handpicked miracle from Andraste. Your niece and nephew come through two wars with a Sehrie and a dog and you don’t say anything?”

“Te’ Awa is not a Sehrie,” I said, launching a flurry of blows. He spun his maul, and my blade rebounded.

“Oh, you can speak, knight captain,” Gyre said, smiling, teeth catching the morning light, “he’s a Seheron then. And it seems like you’re happier to see him than the kids.” He brought his maul around in a brutal strike that I had to step back to avoid. I was sweating, falling back into the rhythm of deep breaths. I narrowly avoided a blow that would have shattered my arm had it connected, then another. He was forcing me backwards across the training square.

“See, I think most of the sers here would kill to see their families again,” he said, swinging a blow that shattered the facing of my shield, shaking my arm numb. His maul splintered into uselessness. I sprang forward, sweeping my blade in for a low to the gorget and an end to our bout.

I barely saw what happened next. I saw him drop his hammer into one hand, catching the head on his fingers. Then he slammed his suddenly free fist into my helmet. I hit the ground, stunned, face aching.

“So, I was just thinking,” Gyre said, offering me a hand up. I dropped my arming sword and took it, and he pulled me up easily, “pulled than on some of those Qunari bastards. They don’t expect getting punched in the face and that shit they wear don’t help at all. “

“Noted, knight-corporal,” I said, taking my helmet off. There was dent in helmet. I’d need to get it worked out before I went on the recruiting run.

“About…?”

“Tonight. I just need time.”

Gyre shrugged, resting his maul across his shoulders.

“Whatever you say, knight captain.”

“She’s fine,” Soliana said, not moving from her place by the forge. I was sweating in the heat, but she seemed to take the heat in stride. Behind her, Mandinar was eating the dent out of my helmet. The tranquil they had with them were working on another mage staff with the precision of those who had their minds torn away. “And I can’t see her why?” I asked, going through the same song and dance I had for the past week.

“Senior enchanter Dascentia is… in a difficult position, “ Soliana said, shifting her arms again, keeping them crossed. She was the closest thig the mages had to a spokesperson now, the others only coming out for practice or a breath of fresh air.

“The crossbow bolt hurt her that badly?”

“It’s… complicated. We’re handling it.”

“Convey to her that I hope she is well.”

“I …, “ and I saw the lie in her hesitation, the fear, “I will do that, knight captain.

A templar draws attention. A handful of us draw a crowd. A squad sends people for their homes to pray for peace. The streets of Val Foret cleared before me and my knights as we marched for the sinking district. We marched under the Montsimard banner, the banner strapped to Tomas’s back. He’d made the rig for himself, so he could use the flail he taken to using these last few weeks. Kara was at my side, all business. The other knights in our column looked serious and ready. They had heard what happened to the watch patrols that strayed into the section of the city at the water’s edge.

The streets narrowed, the houses became grimmer and dirtier, and the eyes watching us more hostile. Some didn’t run. Street toughs watched from their stoops and corners, seeing us as just another gang. A woman, clothes stained with years of dirt and exposure, wandered by, muttering to herself. I pretended that I didn’t notice her eyes snap into focus as we passed, examining us.

We followed the marks on the walls, carefully scribed templar sign that wouldn’t have stood out to an untrained eye. It led us to abandoned Chantry on the water’s edge, half the building submerged in to river’s high tide. The altar, ancient stone covered in moss, still rose from the water, a bridge of planks leading to it.

I stepped out onto the boards. They creaked and warped under my weight, but held. I placed a candle on the altar, and lit it my flint and tinder.

The building creaked, and I turned from the altar, rising to see my knights arranged in a semi-circle, shields raised.

There were more of our guests than I’d thought. There were near onto thirty of them, all haggard, all hard eyed. All were armed; an eclectic mix of swords, maces and axes, alongside bows and spears and glaives. All had their weapons drawn. No two were dressed alike: a man in half plate with a hand crossbow and cutlass stood next to woman whose dark skin and shaven head was protected by chain mail of burnished bronze and next to her was a man clad in a nobleman’s garb, all ruffles and fine leather except for the pair of longswords with Avar runes on their steel in his hands

I took my helmet off, holding it under my right arm. I made eye contact with as many as I could. No one spoke. I stepped through the ranks of my knights, who hadn’t drawn their weapons.

“I am knight captain Maric Harper, witch hunter captain of Ferelden, Sword of the Roads, and First Among Equals of the Templars Errant. I come to you as a brother humbled. I come to you to offer you a new life.”

Val Foret was a nexus of trade routes. Its docks, even now, were home to a thousand different sorts, mercenaries, wanderers and riff raff that blended together into ad-hoc culture of back alley glory and second hand honor. I had consulted with a few city guards, with Bonaventure with my trackers. There was a sliver of the dock community that we could use, men and women who had borne the Martyr’s sword on their armor.

Life had taken them on different paths. Changed them, hounded them, and they had survived. They were stronger than the Order that had cast them out could have thought.

“I asked you here today to take up the burden of the Templar again. To join the future we are building, learning from ore mistakes and failings. To build a world where being a templar is more than being a thief taker and thug. To build an order that protects the children of the Maker, no matter what form they take. “

“I ask each of you to join the Templars Errant, to become a Templar again in a world that needs those who will see justice done.”

Silence reigned. A few of the ex-Templars looked between each other.

“If you wish to join what we are building, come to our compound in the warehouse district at high noon in three days and we will begin anew.”

They drifted away in ones and twos. I watched them go, the last to leave the man in half plate , considering me like a wolf assessing a predator. Then he shrugged and left the old Chantry.

Kara stepped up next to, resting a hand on my elbow.

“Sounded good,” she said, “ should get a few.”

“Maybe,” I said, “maybe.”

The boy found me as I saw to my armor. I was surrounded by knights checking their armor, talking and laughing as they recover from a day of training. More than once conversation turned to the ex-Templars and the offer.

I looked up from sharpening my sword and suddenly there he was. We’d found him a squire’s clothes and in truth if it hadn’t been for my brother’s eyes staring out of his face I’d never haven able to tell him from another. His sister was at his side, small and scared.

The boy’s name was Caremor, the girl’s Sholl. The conversations around us quieted.

“Settling in well?” I asked.

The boy stared at me. I kept his gaze.

“I figured you might want to train with the squires. Children your age. That you might continue your training,” I said as if he had answered. I did not know how to talk to children. On the occasions that I had needed to take in young mages Piedmont and Buld had handled the lion share of the coddling. I could be kind when needed, but in the way that a war Mabari could be: not viciously mauling them was enough to appear well mannered.

I waited and kept his gaze. Eventually, he blinked and looked away. I gave him credit. He was bold enough to try that on me.

“What do you need, Caremor?”

“You never asked how my father died,” he said, looking at the ground.

“Then tell me,” I said.

It was simple really. The rebel mages had come to Redclife, the Arl had been forced out when he gave them shelter. The Templars followed and burned everything they found. Some of the knights had taken issue with that. Raid and counter raid gave way to blood skirmishes, to burned hold fasts and slaughtered camps. Redjak Harper had led a particularly effective war band of knights and men-at arms, keeping the mages and templars out of the valley his family had protected for centuries.

Caremor hadn’t understood the end. His story was confused, but it was clear on a few things. Te’awa had come to Keep Harper looking for me. And it had been Te’awa who had carried Caremor and Sholl from the burning keep as the Redcliffe warband was overwhelmed. It hadn’t been clear who had come that night, but Caremor had seen his parents dead, cut apart. He had the presence of mind to grab the family crossbow from his father’s hands.

By the end, Caremor was trying not to cry, and Sholl was sniffling. They were trying to be brave, but they had seen their entire world torn apart.

The barracks had gone deathly quiet. I felt a great many eyes on me. I carefully put my sword, and moved from my seat to a kneeling position. I took them both in an embrace, pulling them to me. They began to cry into my jerkin. I was there. That was all I could give them.

“Knight captain?”

I looked up from my writing, and realized it was late. Jeroth the Free stood at my room’s door, looking uncomfortable. He was a grizzled battle mage who had fought more battles than many of my knights. To see him uncomfortable was disconcerting.

“Ser?” I asked, standing.

“Dascentia will see you.”

I don’t remember much of the journey to Dascentia’s quarters. Worry took my caution. I remember mages watching me, some concerned. I arrived outside Dascentia’s room with Metis waiting for me. She looked tired, wrung out, face pale with exertion. A dozen empty lyrium bottles rested on the ground by the door.

“Afore you go in,” Metis said, her Marcher accent breaking through as it did when she was tired, “I should let you know.: she’s been through an awful lot. That bolt she took moved it along a bit, and it was a hard birth anyway so-“

“Birth?”

Metis looked up at me.

“You didn’t know?”

“She was-” I said, face paling. How long had we been in Val Foret? Dascentia had always been slender and it wouldn’t have been impossible to hide… and the thought terminated, my mind flicking through dozens of memories. There had been a change, and I’d completely missed it.

“Look, knight captain. She’s tired, even if she won’t admit it. Go in, say your congratulations and then give her some time.”

“I…” I stopped. Metis had a point, “understood, healer. Thank you.”

I opened the door and stepped through.

“Mar,” Dascentia said, propped up on a great many pillows. The air smelled of blood and water. Dascentis wasn’t alone. She cradled a small bundle in her arms, which made little gurgling noises. The other was Enchanter Aglin, who I had not known was an elf, and who was watching me with the open suspicion of a father and a mage who has had a templar walk into the room.

How many times had I been here? How many children had I torn from their parents’ arms? How many times had I left nothing but tears in my wake? “Mar?” Dascentia asked. I knew she could read me fairly well.

I bowed at the waist. It was formal, but it was all I could think to do. I straightened, keeping my hands from balling into fists.

“Maker’s blessing upon you and yours,” I said, “ are you well?”

“Well enough,” she said, looking tired as Metis said she would be,” you can come a stitch closer if you like.”

“I am… I am alright where I am, Senior enchanter,” I said, carefully staying away from the informal, “ is the child well?”

“He’s healthy,” she said, and she closed her eyes. I noticed the bandages on her shoulder, and realized how narrowly disaster had been avoided.

“Blessing on all of you,” I said, “ if you have need of me, I am at your command.”

“Thank you, Mar,” Dascentia said. Aglin was watching me, suspicion replaced by confusion.

I extricated myself from the room with another bow.

I was halfway to the exit to the mage’s quarters when Aglin caught up with me. He was a handsome fellow, around Dascentia’s age. His raven hair was wild, and it hung and stood up oddly. It gave him an earnestness of appearance that he showed who he was.

“Knight captain,” he said, “Dascentia asked me to give you this.”

He passed me a folded piece of parchment. He stepped back and studied me for a moment.

“We have not talked much,” he said, and I noticed the edge of a buried Nevarran accent “but Dascentia speaks highly of you when she talks to the other mages.

An awkward silence passed between us.

“Good night, enchanter Aglin.”

“Good night, knight captain Harper.”

I stepped out into the night. I opened the note, and read it by starlight. It was written in Dascentia’s fine, looping script with no hint of the haste it must have been written in. It read:

“I have no reason to be afraid of you, Mar.”

Part 2

Part 4

10th of Bloomingtide

The past three days have been unproductive. Sentinels would come into my office and asks questions and hope that I can give them answers. While I was able to give some an answer right away, others I couldn’t. Some questions became problems that I didn’t have any sort of capacity to fix instantly. Letters were sent to the High Sentinel and his assistant Vincent. I wouldn’t hear back for them for a bit, as I requested at the end of each letter to get back at me when they had an answer. No discussions, just solutions and answers.

Perhaps I was overstepping my bounds, but for the Sentinels of Orlais to work, it needed to happen. I finished penning a list of things to do over the next couple months, largely training regiment goals for the Sentinels. Other pieces of the list consisted of redoing the patrols, changes in the officer's roster, and setting up an outpost at the rift. The outpost was near the top.* I have no say in the fortification efforts of Val Foret right now, the base of the wall has just been place and two watchtowers have been half completed. Let them work.*

I got up from my desk, grabbed my cane and hobbled out of my room walked towards the courtyard. Here, I found the Sentinels who were not a patrol, sleeping, or eating, sparring with each other.

There was maybe twenty or thirty of them in pairs of two sparring. I walked near each one, watching for a couple minutes before moving onto the next one. Sometimes they would stop their sparring and stare at me for a moment. I would urge them to continue and pretend I was not there. The best way to find flaws in someone’s technique is to silently observe them.

As they sparred, I would call out mistakes, show them the solution and see if they would go all the way. Some caught on quickly while others would need more time. After twenty minutes of sparring the Sentinels stopped and headed for the mess hall. Go, eat your fill. A day will come when resting and eating is a luxury.

I tapped my cane on the ground and went back into my room to change into some finer clothing. As I headed out, Alessia caught my arm.

“Heading into town are we?” While she seemed happy to see me, her voice did a poor job of hiding how she felt right now. Poor woman must be keeping around the clock watch on the injured.

I bowed forward slightly. “Yes, feel like it would be good to take in the sights of the town.” I adjusted my collar, “You should lie down.”

Alessia let out an exhausted laugh, smiled and walked away. Is she going to lie down? No, no. Not until all her patients are sleeping.

Mid-afternoon was a fairly busy time in Val Foret. People gathering food for dinner, moving trade between shops, tourists going into inns, and so on so forth. The hustle and bustle was far less than Tantervale, and a bit more disorganized even. Yet here, it’s far less harsh. A blessing in disguise, a good chunk of these people here would be jailed in Tantervale, or fined. And if the rumors in Tantervale are true….

I bumped into a man while I daydreamed along my walk. He didn’t drop anything, thankfully. He swore underneath his breath, dusted himself off and made a fist.

“Watch where you’re going!” He said angrily, spitting while doing so.

I tapped my cane on the ground. “My apologies ser. I was deep in thought about my home. Please, if you’ll excuse me…” I carefully maneuvered around the man on the busy street, just barely hearing him spit on the ground and curse me, the foreigner. Shame really, how some folk don’t want to change.

Another person, this time a woman wearing some sort of armor bumped into me while I entered the poor district. My cane slipped from my hand, bounced and rolled away. “Excuse me.” I said as I went over to pick up my cane.

“You’re that new commander for the Sentinels?” She asked. She wore hard leather and chainmail. Short hair, a couple scars and maybe missing some teeth. Mercenary no doubt, judging by it.

I steadied myself on my cane. “And what if I am? Will you attack an old man?”

The lady showed a toothy grin, “My boss wants to see you.”

I shook my head, and began walking back towards the Crown. The woman sprinted in front of me and unsheathed a longsword. One handed, a nicked crossguard. Seen a lot of use, the way she stands though… Her left foot was dragged back while her right foot was pointed towards me. A duelist of some sort? Means she’s nimble on her feet. Armor will slow me down too much, but I’ll still need some sort of protection, and my swords.

I watched her close, waiting for her to make a move. We stood, staring at each other while people seemed to walk by, paying no heed to us.

“Tell you what,” She finally says, sheathing her sword, “We walk back to your base, you get your swords and we have ourselves a nice little fight. The boss says you’re good, but I like to see it myself.”

“And who's your boss?” I asked, loosening my grip on the cane.

“Oskar.” She answered flatly, gesturing for me to take the lead.

We reached the Crown, Sentinels ready their weapons at the sight of the woman behind me. They can tell something is up. Good.

I waved my hand, to the confusion of the ones standing at the gate. They calmed themselves, lowering their weapons. I led the woman into the courtyard. “You stay here, give me ten minutes to ready myself.” I said, limping away on my cane. “And what if you’re not back by than?” She asks, her hand going for her sword.

“You can leave and bring Oskar. You can stay and try to kill all the Sentinels here, the choice is yours.” I waved back at her and rushed into my room.

I grabbed my swords and went over to the armor rack. The Red Stripe armor stared back at me, hollow and silent. I’ll slow myself down with that. Can’t use that. The armor I had ordered for as commander was not ready yet. Than, I remembered the other armor I had. The armor of my early mercenary days, the armor I wore when I met you. When I lost you. My gaze drifted over to my locked trunk. I slowly opened it and stared at the armor. The gauntlets were gone, the armor was partially burnt in spots. It’s still usable. I have to.

I donned it, remembering the last time I donned it. Remembering why I put it away. It used to be white, silver linings that would shine in the sunlight. Now it’s grey, black in spots, no longer making people smile. It was made of a lighter material, bought with the money I had taken with me when I left Tantervale. A painful reminder, best left locked away.

I pushed open the doors of the courtyard, my hands at my sides as the woman and Oskar frowned at me as I walked towards them without a cane. Even some of the Sentinels frowned too. Some made comments about my armor.

“Would you look at this Tasha,” Oskar said, presumably smiling under his mask as I walked up “The old man came to fight.”

“Looks to me he pulled whatever he could find.” Tasha snickered, “You sure he’s his son?”

Oskar chuckled, “He has his eyes, but he certainly doesn’t look like his son. Age really did a number on him.” His smile disappeared, “Kill him.”

Tasha smiled and leapt forward with her sword. Her leap caught me off guard. I quickly unsheathed my swords and pivoted away from her. She rolled forward and spun herself around to face me. She’s fast, very fast.

I narrowed the spacing between my swords and watched her. She smiled and started a one-two-three rhythm. A fencing poke, followed by a swift center to right slash that came just before a downward slash into a stab. I was having trouble keeping up, but in between steps three and one, there was a space where I could adjust my position or footing. She’s trying to wear me down. No… If she was her attacks would be more relentless. She’s prodding for a misstep.

No missteps for you. Between her three and one, I catch her sword and shove it towards the ground. Unfortunately my catch didn’t take and she was able to recover quickly. She moved two steps back and watched me closely. She’s planning her next move. I lash out, twin diagonal slashes from her left shoulder down. She back stepped and countered, catching my left arm and leaving a slash on the forearm. I wince and step back. Blood was dripping down from the cut, droplets hitting the ground and left hand.

“You’re the first in a very long time to draw blood.” I said, my demeanor changing from a calm to serious. I toss the sword in my left arm away, wringing some blood off my left hand. “You should be proud. The last time someone drew my blood, they were evenly matched with me. A shame you’re not.”

“What?” Tasha frowned, anger spilling into her voice. “You’re holding back!?”

I nodded slowly and lurched forward. One handing my sword, I locked my blade with hers. I grinned, and started forcing her sword downward. Her anger turned into fear. Once her sword just barely touched the ground I brought the side of my sword along her torso. She screamed as I slashed it upward and away. Tasha stumbled back, a small cut was by her stomach.

“That the best you got?” She asked, as she lunged forward at me. I danced away and slashed at her back. She screamed again and stumbled forward, dropping her sword in the process landing on her hands and knees. I kicked it away and placed the side of my sword on her neck.

“Should have left.” I said, watching as she looked up at Oskar with pleading eyes. I looked towards the man, who merely observed with arms crossed against his chest. I left out a heavy sigh and pulled my sword upward, slicing open her neck. She rolled over onto her back, hands trying to apply pressure on the wound.

“That won’t help.” I said, sheathing my sword. I watched her gasp, tears forming around her eyes before they rolled back into her head. Her hands dropped to the side, and she lay still.

I walked over to Oskar. The man’s featureless mask seemed like an odd choice. Odder still was his choice of clothing: black tunic, trousers, boots and gloves. * Could have leather underneath there.*

I stood close to him, face to face. “I want you to bring Roland here, and I want you tell my father to fuck off.”

He snorted, “Won’t happen. He’s promised us good money to bring you back. Alive was preferred but dead if you proved to be…” He looked over my shoulder to Tasha’s cold body. “Troublesome.”

“Than this is war between me and your men.” I said.

He nodded slowly, and walked away. Sentinels came running over in awe and shock.

“Get back to your duties, and tell Alessia to come to my room.” I paused and looked over to the mercenary’s body. “Dispose of the body.” I grabbed my second sword and returned to my room.

I sat shirtless on a chair, blood slowly dripping for the cut. Alessia came into the room with some wet rags and bandages. She grasped my arm and studied the cut. I could hear her murmur something to herself, but couldn’t make out what. She started to clean off the blood.

“Any deeper, and this would have to be treated by Abbey.” She said, carefully cleaning away the blood. I nodded, staring at the wall. We sat in silence, then she started using her magic to heal the wound. When she was done, she carefully inspected my arm again and nodded to herself.

“There, shouldn’t have any issues.” She said, cleaning up her things.

“Thank you.” I trailed off, snapping my focus away from the wall and to her. “This is a bit of a warning but…” I clenched my fists. “This wound was from me being sloppy. I’ve let my age and old injury catch up, became an old man.”

“Rickard…” Alessia started, but I raised my hand.

“No. This is a warning to you: This injury is just a start, one day I may come back worse. And when that days come I will need you to be ready. The Sentinels need me for the time being, but I need to kill The Roughs. I need….” I trailed off again. “Sorry. I need to train, I need many things I just… I need to be young again.”

Alessia smiled and cupped her hand under my chin. “I used to think like that. Turning forty was a huge deal for me. I used to worry that one day my magic would fail me because I was tired, weak and old. It’s never failed me. In fact, it’s gotten better. Other mages looked up to me. It was the same with the young and old templars that I traveled with for a time, they looked to me for guidance, for help via my magic if needed. I was the one they could count on. I was the one they went to when others failed in their use of magic.”

She moved her hand away from my chin and placed both her hands on my shoulders. “I’ve seen you fight Rickard, you don’t need to be young. You need to train. You need to fight, and you need to take revenge on Roland and The Roughs. Why? Because you’re not young and need to prove it, because you’re old, and you can do it.”

I smiled and nodded. “Thank you.” I said, standing up. She moved her hands away from my shoulders and looked up at me. Maker, she’s right. I will do this, for Cadwgan, for me.

“I’ll be around if you need me. Always.” With another smile, Alessia picked up her things and left. I was left standing, looking at the Red Stripe armor. I walked over to it and inspected the helmet. Yes, train and fight. This old man will do so.

Previously: A Breach in the Heart

26th of Eluviesta, Fourth month of the Theodesian Calendar, Dawn, Outskirts of Val Foret

Blood magic. The word left a sour taste in my mouth. With a grunt I drop the last body in the pit, letting it roll down to the rest of them at the bottom. Without a word I begin shifting the earth back over the hole. A grim task, but it has been a grim night. I briefly glance at Velanna, who was looking at the sun rise. The dawn was coming, but the light did not comfort me in the slightest. A drawn out moment of silence later, I speak: “When we return, you are not to leave your quarters until I come to talk. Do not speak, and do not make excuses, because I do not want to hear them. Do you understand?”

“But I-”

I turn to her with a fury, “NO! THERE ARE NO BUTS! THIS IS AN ORDER!” She shrinks, shocked by the rage on my face. I wait for her to respond, and she gives me a small nod of understanding. “Good. We will return to Val Foret immediately.”

Val Foret, Early morning

We return in silence. During the journey I had time to gather my thoughts. Blood magic has been, historically in Tevinter, a method of magic only used behind closed doors. Not only was it dangerous due to a risk of demonic possession, but it was also taboo for the damage it can cause to both the user and the victim. However, Cato had taught me of what else it does. For it is not the demons, but oneself that should be afraid once they start to use blood magic. With each drop, each sacrifice, and each kill, the power seeps further into the mind. Something once used out of desperation soon becomes something they rely on. And this lesson he taught me has carried on to this day. That is why, as I glance sidelong at Velanna, I find myself filled with a mixture of anger and fear. The supposed daughter of my second father crossing the one line he never dared. How could she?

We pass through the gate with a nod from the guards, one of them raising a brow at the specks of blood on my clothes and skin. “Bandits again.” I give him as reassuring a look as I can, more to assure myself than him. He looks away and back towards the crowds moving through the entrance.

We reach the tavern we’re staying at, The Water Maiden, and walk to Velanna’s room. We stand at her doorway in silence for a minute. Impatient, she speaks. “Before you yell at me again, I just want to remind you that I saved us both by doing that.”

“I would have preferred death.”

She snorts. “What they all say until they’re at it’s door.” She strides into her room, and shuts the door. With a drawn out breath I return to my own room.

The door clicks shut quietly behind me. With a sigh I begin to remove all the leather armor. I inspect each piece as I remove it, noting the stains that I’ll need to clean out later as well as the damage that I need to go to a leatherworker for. Once in my comfortable clothes, I take a seat at my desk and begin to pour over the papers. Reports of missions, supplies, income, expenditures, and contract requests begin to fill my head. The cloud of confusion that had taken hold of me for the past several hours is alleviated. If only life were always this simple. I think to myself while writing my signature on one report, and moving on to the next one.

A frown begins to form on my face. Another letter from Kanis. I decipher the message hidden within, this time a more complicated code than before: “I will meet you soon. I don’t know who else to trust. Be in touch shortly.”

I sit back in my chair, wondering what is going on that is bringing the hermit magister so far south. Sitting forward I begin to reread all reports and files I have on hand, but find no significant discrepancies in the literature. I’ll need someone better at espionage than me to think this through. I think of Therel, but if Kanis was telling true then I might not be able to trust any of the Ravens. Even Elador? I shake my head. He of all people I could trust, but he wasn’t up to the task I needed. So then whom...Oh. It felt painfully obvious now, I just needed a way to contact her.

Outside of Val Foret, Afternoon

I had brought Ranmarque a list of scouts to join my team on patrols outside the city, foraying for any of these new rifts, and within the list I put her name. The perfect excuse to meet up without any suspicion.

Together we walk along the path, and for a few minutes only silence lies between us. At last, she speaks first. “Well?”

I realize that I should not have kept her waiting. I look to her, eager to begin. “I’m surprised you haven’t moved away during the time I was gone.” Indeed, I had believed that was closer to her way of traveling. And yet, there she was fighting the demonic hordes with me. A comforting fact, but also shrouding the woman in even greater amounts of mystery.

“If you have betrayed me, you would have lived long enough only to regret it. Given our history, I believed you understood that well enough - there was no need.” She said the words with a soft tone, but the words implied more threats than reassurance. Good to know our barely held trust for one another hasn’t improved. I think grimly, hoping she would still agree despite her slightly justified paranoia. She continued speaking, turning the conversation onto me. “I’m more curious what kept you up north so long; given your lack of contact or response to inquiries, I don’t assume it was spent entirely in the Imperium.”

“I had much business to attend to, in particular a very difficult transition to my new position.” I nearly stop, processing what she just said. “Wait, inquiries? What inquiries did you send to me?” No ravens had come to me bearing messages from Keris, at the Keep or here. A strange irregularity that I will need to address at a later time.

Her eyes shift toward me, the smallest glance of unsurity on her face. “Have you yet to hear about the possession of the warden, during your absence?”

A possessed warden? I frown. It was not often that one of the order found themselves so easily ensnared by a demon. “No, I have not heard of this. Do you believe it had something to do with the demons we are seeing now?”

“I’m uncertain. At the time, however, my concerns were focused somewhat closer to home. If you are able to discern who I am and also enter Tevinter, then leave it unscathed despite who you are, then the Ravens must have enough influence there for you to understand why. When you failed to respond in any way, I was forced to pursue alternate routes of information.”

I shrug, “Few know of what I look like now and can put a name to my face. And even then, the name Venine has long since lost it’s power.” My mind goes distant for a moment before bringing it back. “I am sorry I did not get your letter. It appears something had gone wrong with one of our messaging systems. What alternate routes did you pursue?”

“That would be telling,” She wags a finger at me briefly. “If it was Magister Caelius involved, however...he’s entirely capable of playing the long game to his own advantage, and hiding his involvement behind multiple layers. I wouldn’t necessarily discount his hand being in play to some degree, just yet. I also wouldn’t presume there isn’t something or someone else entirely who is to blame for this recent development, despite all the blood magic and demonic activity.”

I glance at Keris, “Do you hate your uncle? I know of his reputation but…”

She blinks in response, pausing and staring into me. “That is just a clinical assessment of his skills, no feelings are involved. I can, however, personally verify that it is true.” She shrugs, once again resuming her pace. “But, I doubt you went to all the trouble of arranging this meeting to speak on that. What do you want?”

I shake my head and let the subject drop. Tevinter politics have always been a murky business that I can barely float above, and delving into her family history was very clearly not something she wishes to do. “Forget I asked. Actually, I wanted to ask you for a favor.” I glance at our surroundings, double-checking to ensure that we are indeed alone. “I need a favor, in fact. One that I will be happy to repay whenever you wish.”

“That depends on the nature of the favor. Ask. You can do that at least for free.”

“I need you to spy on one of my members. Velanna, the red-haired female mage.” A bird whistles in the trees.

“Ignoring the reason you want to investigate your own members momentarily - why come to me for this?”

“I needed someone who wasn’t with the order or my own group. You were the only one who came to mind that was both qualified and, well, somewhat trustworthy.”

“You’re after something that is presumably delicate if you’re this nervous. Hire a bard. You can buy trust if you’ve got the coin; contrary to popular opinion in the south, not everyone from the Imperium is a spy, a slaver or a magister. You know that well enough.”

“But not everyone knows of the Siccari, and even less have their skillset.” I give her a careful eye. I wasn’t entirely certain if that is where she learned the ways of stealth and combat, but all Altus have at least heard of the organization. I didn’t want to press my luck with our unsteady alliance, but I was more worried about problems closer to home. I only hope the risk pays off.

“The Siccari are a scary story told to frighten peasants, barbarians and mages who might step out of line. They don’t actually exist,” She waves off the idea with a flip of her hand. “I’m not saying I can’t help or necessarily won’t - but my skills are geared more strongly towards the...” She pauses, thinking of a way to phrase it. “Aggressive aspects of what you’re looking for. I can investigate her without getting caught at least, assuming she isn’t already looking for someone to be watching her - and if it comes to it, I can certainly kill her for you and do it quietly. Or messy, if you prefer.” She shrugs in indifference. “However, I still need to know your motivation. Something to focus on, if possible.”

“I have reasonable cause to believe she may not be who she says she is.” I explain, “Strange things have been happening that I have not been aware of until recently, and one of my members has contacted me with several warnings. All roads are leading to her, to Velanna. But I’m not about to kill one of my own just on mere suspicion. This would be an observational task, not an…aggressive aspect. Does that suffice?”

“Send me a scroll of everything you think of as strange, then, and I’ll look into it: as long as you understand and agree you will not begrudge the use of lethal force to protect myself. I won’t die for your concerns, but if it comes to it, I’ll make sure her disappearance isn’t suspicious.” She reaches into her belt and pulls out a tiny piece of carved wood and metal, with minute orbs spinning around a central chain. She holds it up for examination, pointing to the letters inscribed upon it. I recognize it as an encoder, one that is common for spies of the north. “Use any cipher you like to encode it; drop it and the key in different locations. If I need to contact you, I’ll use a standard rivaini code with reverse decay structures: start with this as your base, subtract glyphs accordingly per delivery.”

I take in everything she says, mentally writing notes to keep track of her cipher methods for later use. “Understood. I’ll have the scroll sent to you as soon as possible.” The patrol route was nearing the end of it’s trail, and we were bound to meet up with another patrol in a few minutes. Before we return to silence, I add “And Keris, thanks for the help.”

Part 1

Part 3

2nd of Bloomingtide

I awoke with no pain in my leg. A relief, truth be told. I hadn’t fought in a battle since freeing Cadwgan from the Antivan Crows as my leg took a chance hit from one of them. It was a miracle I was even to get Cad out before had to sit down and rest my leg. Even donning my armor for small meetings and appearances caused pain.

But today, it seemed fine. Though the true test will be when I don my armor. I throw on a light buttoned shirt, leaving it unbuttoned and throw on some pants. A knock at the door, followed by Alessia entering the room.

“Rickard, seems to me your knee is doing okay today.” Surprise is written all over her face. Her voice however, seems to have some joy in it.

“Sadly, it could only be for an hour, a day, maybe a week. Your services-” I paused as I sat down at my desk. “Will still be required.” I looked at her with a small smile on my face. Alessia smiled back and took a seat in front of me.

“I take it you want to know about the Sentinels?” She asks. I nod my answer. Alessia lets out a sigh and adjusts her ponytail. Only now do I notice the bloodstains on her hands. “No more amputees thankfully. We’ve been making sure they’re comfortable. Some are upset that they let his happen to them. Others… Well, we’ve had to stop one or two from reaching for a knife.” She made a line on her own throat.

“They’re going after you?” I asked, my brows furrowed.

Alessia shakes her head. “After themselves.” I made a silent “oh”. The two of us sitting in a solemn silence for a moment.

“...We’ve managed to release seven Sentinels from our care. They’re ready to return to active duty.” Only seven? Shit, by the time we reach full fighting strength, we’ll still only be at half of what we were. I need to defeat their best fighters, lest we’ll spend another two or three months training raw recruits.

I let out a grunt. “Better than nothing I suppose. You can return to your duties, Alessia. I have some preparations to attend too…” I got up from my chair, while the mage in front of me did the same.

“You’re not seriously going to fight them, right?”

I began leading her out of my room. “Alessia, I’ve told you before: You can accompany me as long as the injured are fine. I would hate to have you shirk from your duties.” Before Alessia could argue my point, I closed the door on her. There was no response afterwards, and I let out a sad sigh. That was not very… Kind of me.

I walked on over to my armor and stared at it. Images of all the people I had slain came back to me. Some were part of the job, others were for vengeance. The armor was washed after much blood had splattered on it, though it had not needed a wash for some time. Hopefully I won’t have to spill any tonight, beyond a mere flesh wound. I gazed at my swords, one that I had owned since meeting Cadwgan, used to protect my friends… One to kill your assassin's my dear Talia. The other I acquired after feeling the shield was not right for me. Both swords had seen age, and replacements for them would be soon needed.

The room was still bare, it did not feel right to be in it. To walk in your footsteps Cad… To merely call myself Commander right now, it does not feel right yet.

Evening had come, I was staring at my armor. It was odd, always I looked at myself in the reflections of water, to see a man beneath it. Now… The two are separate, but how separate are they? The Red Stripe is a quiet, vicious man. I am just an old man, left all alone. No… Not quite alone.

Slowly and carefully, I put on the armor. When I finished, it felt like I hadn’t taken it off for a while. Like a glove. I put my helmet on, and adjusted to the narrower line of sight. A knock at the door drew my attention away for a moment.

“In!” I boomed through the helmet. Cad always joked that I would talk like I never had a helmet on, even though I did. ‘Hard to hear you,’ he would say, ‘can’t tell if you’ve got something in your mouth.’

Alessia opened the door and jumped back. I fumbled at my helmet and took it off for her. “My apologies, I forgot you hated it.” She is not the first to be scared, nor the last. When all you can see of a man is his eyes, how can you be sure it’s a man underneath the armor, and not a monster?

“It’s alright… I wasn’t expecting you to have your armor on already. I came by to see if you needed some assistance with putting it on.” Alessia crept into the room and closed the door behind her. “I never told you I thought you were some mage killer when you found me.”

I raised an eyebrow at the statement. It was puzzling to say the least. “You’ve also never told me the full story of how I found you in that sorry state.” I turned over my helmet and wiped away a smudge on the back.

“Another time perhaps. I’ve come to accompany you. Abbey is taking care of the wounded, though I suspect she worries about you.”

“And that’s why she sent you?”

The mage nodded with a soft smile. She wasn’t in her usual robes, instead donning something cleaner, more battle ready. “Friends of mine gave this to me when we traveled around.”

I was going to press the subject, but opted not too. We didn’t nearly know each other enough yet to be delving into our pasts. Nor would it be wise at the time either, as time was against us.

I put the helmet back on and walked over to the door. I opened it and gestured at the mage to go through. “Shall we?” I said in a muffled, metallic voice. Alessia nodded, and we were off.

I met the Sentinels under the moonlit sky. They were all there. I counted at least twenty, with their best fighters at the front. Most came in armor with some in simple clothing. Wool tunics, famers clothing and the like. I inhaled sharply as I got closer. Their best fighters were young, strong, and scarred. Experienced, but skilled? We shall see.

One of the Sentinels I had met the previous night came forward: The woman. “First one to land a flesh wound wins the fight. Best out of three, and don’t try to change the rules. This is what we fight on.”

I nodded and took off my helmet. Alessia came running to my side. Before she could object, I handed her my helmet silently and brushed her away. “That’s fair.” I said, taking a couple paces back from the Sentinel. “One on one?” I asked, sliding my hands slowly to my swords on either hip.

The Sentinel nodded, and with a swing of her armor, the first fighter came forward. Two scars run along his unarmored left arm. No doubt damaged beyond repair, whatever piece of armor was there. He wielded a great sword, smaller and thinner than Cadwgan’s own, but just as impressive. The boy was strong looking, full of energy. But could he be fast enough to beat me? Unlikely.

The woman Sentinel shouted “Begin!” And the boy charged at me. I kept my hands on the hilts of my swords and waited. The boy swung downward, a bit too slow though. I sidestepped it and hopped back. He lifted his sword in a thrusting manner, trying to catch my leg. He was a bit too short, stopping a couple inches away from me. Much to my surprise he threw a punch, of which I barely caught and stopped in front of my face.

“Cad’s taught you well…” I said cooly. “But not well enough. Under my tutelage, you will become a great warrior.” I let go of his hand, allowing him to step back and ready himself. The Sentinels formed a circle around us, giving us enough space to maneuver.

I yanked out both of my swords, crossing them in an x shape. “I hope you’re ready boy.” I was now completely focused, ready for the fight. The young Sentinel frowned, hesitating. I charged at him, twirling around like a dancer. My swords were making contact with his, glancing off but not flying away. He’s got a good guard, I’ll give him that. I watched as he took a step back, grimacing at my assault. I stopped twirling and spun around to his left, he countered by swinging left, but was sword. I caught his sword and forced it downward to the ground. He grunted in shock, followed by a scream of pain as I slashed his left arm with one of my swords.

The young Sentinel took a step back, blood dripping from a shallow gash. I gestured to Alessia to tend to the young boy.

“My mage shall heal your wound.” The Sentinel nodded and went over to her. Another one of the Sentinels in the ring picked up his sword and carried it away.

Taking a couple deep breaths to calm myself, I looked at the female Sentinel from before. “I’ll win the next round if it’s another one on one. Find your four best.” My request shocked her, and the crowd went silent.

I stood there, looking around the ring of Sentinels. Most were murmuring to each other. Crazy old man is what they’re thinking. Maybe… Four Sentinels came forth. One with a spear in one hand, a shield in the other. Two carried axes, and the last one held a longsword. I grinned at them. I taught their teacher how to fight as well.

Without warning, they came at me. The axemen came at my sides, the spearmen just behind the longswordsman. The four were all attacking me at the same time. I was retreating back to the ring, spinning and twirling my swords, blocking their strikes. The axemen coordinated their attacks, keeping the pressure on. Trying to knock me off balance, so the longswordsman can strike me. If that fails, the spearman can come up and prod me.

Nearing the rings edge, I force my swords to hook underneath the axes blade and swing upward. The axes fly out of their hands, the longswordsman panics and follows up with a slash that’s too wide. I block it with one sword and cuts his hand with the other. I twirl around and slash the other two axemen’s arms, drawing blood from them.

The spearman backs up slowing, allowing the defeated three to back away from the fight. I walked slowly towards the spearman. I spun and hit his shield over and over again. Each time the shield would take the hit, deflecting the sword away. Wood would splinter off it, not enough to cause a hole in it. As I twirled around, he thrusted his spear forward. Should have waited. Twisting my blades, I knocked the spear out of his hands and stared at the man.

“Go ahead, pick it up. But know I’ll knock it out of your hands again.” The spearman nodded, set down his shield and saluted. Around me, I heard the hard sound of a clenched fist hitting ones own chest. I nodded and smiled through my heavy breathing. That took… Quite a bit out of me.

“Your assignments start tomorrow. You will be assisting other Sentinels, both old and new with the demon threat, with crime, and with overseeing security of the ongoing construction efforts. You may not be working with those standing beside you, but you will be accepted all the same. I am not Cadwgan O’Hara, what he and I require from you are very different.” They all nod at me. “Now show me some marching.”

With that, we marched back to the Crown.

7th of Bloomingtide

I had to thumb through an old text on military terminology to find the right word for this. Debrief, used to ask about what happened via the person who was there. I was there, sure. I stopped Cadwgan from turning Ranmarque into paste. Oh which, I will leave out.

The mess hall was turned into our meeting place. Food was currently getting prepared for lunch. Sentinels were pulled off there patrols for today. Well, most of them.

From the doors on the opposite side of the room is where I would sit with Spymaster Dareth'El and High Sentinel Ranmarque.

"They'll be here any minute now." Alessia said, taking a seat by her lonesome on the bench. I nodded at her. "Nervous?" She asked.

I nodded again, tapping my cane on the floor once. My knee was being a bastard today. Were it not for Alessia, I wouldn't have gotten out of bed.

The doors swing open, and I take my seat, watching as Sentinels enter.

Prologue

Part 2

1st of Bloomingtide

I woke up in Cadwgan’s old room, my room now. I felt foreign in it, despite the bareness of it. Besides the desk, a couple chests, armor and sword racks, there wasn’t much to it. No decorative pieces, no rugs, nothing. Even the bed looked bare. I’ll need to change that another time.

The real struggle was trying to get out of the bed. Today my right knee was acting up in a very painful way. Moving it shot searing pain up my leg. Holding it still, while keeping the pain at a minimum, still had a faint throbbing pain. This is what I get for not seeing a healer right away, though it couldn’t have been helped. I was a week's worth of walking from the nearest village. But that was years ago.

Alessia came into the room, as if sensing my pain. Bless her, wouldn’t be here without her. She came in with a smile, her mage robes now replaced with the generic healers clothing. While she couldn’t sew a cut, she could heal you with her magic if the injury or pain was serious enough. Her chestnut hair was done up in a ponytail, swept back with a headband fashioned by a friend of hers.

“Rickard, how’s the knee today?” She asked, moving swiftly to help shift me to an upright posture.

I grunted in response, the pain taking away any chance for a proper answer. Her smile widened, and she held her hands just above my knee. There was a faint glow coming from her hands, and the pain slowly began to soften.

“I’m doing fine, my dear.” I said quietly. I didn’t trust anyone but Abbey or Alessia here. Likewise, the other Sentinels didn’t trust me. Which is only natural. “I’m surprised you decided to come by. How are the injured Sentinels doing?” I asked with sincerity. They were my Sentinels to command now, whether they liked it or not.

The mage closed her hands into two fists, tilting her head slightly as she looked at my knee. Opening them again, she placed one on top of my leg and the other underneath it. Carefully, she moved my leg up and down. I could still feel some pain, of which I grunted as she moved it up.

“Those that were injured are recovering thankfully.” She stopped moving my leg and went over to the desk and retrieved my cane. It was fashioned by a Dalish Elf that I had helped long ago. At the time, I was healthy and young. Didn’t think I would ever use it. Well… I’m glad I kept it. “Some will be stuck recovering for quite some time. Others will be able to return back to active duty within a couple days. At least one or two will need to be discharged however.” She frowned at the last statement, as if trying to complete a puzzle.

“Discharged? They’re amputees?” I asked, reaching out for my cane. Alessia quickly handed me the cane, and I slowly got up from the bed and steadied myself. We were staring eye to eye with each other, I could make out the wrinkles just under her eyes. As well, I could tell she hadn’t slept well in quite some time.

She nodded solemnly. “We did the best we could, but there’s only so much one can do. It was either amputation or death.”

I nodded slowly in understanding. “I shall see to them once they’re a bit stronger. Tell me, when was the last time you slept? And I mean slept.”

My question briefly stunned the woman. The forty-two year old than let a small grin show. “Yesterday morning, a small nap. The day before, two or three half hour naps, and before that…” She trailed off and yawned.

I chuckled and placed my free hand on her shoulder. “Go get some sleep. If you need, use my bed.” Alessia chuckled in response, but shook her head.

“No, it’s alright. But thank you, Rickard.” She turned around and began to head out of the room. She paused at the door and turned her head. “Oh, before I forget: A Sentinel said they wanted to speak with you in the mess hall today.”

I nodded in response, and the mage left quietly. I tapped my cane a couple times on the ground. What in Andraste’s name was I thinking? Offering my bed to a woman I barely know!

Feeling a small chill, I turned and put on a gray tunic and trousers for the meeting.

I limped to the mess hall slowly. Sentinels were working overtime, with the deaths of at least sixty-three during the battle on top of another fifty-one being injured, the remaining Sentinels had to pick up the slack of patrols and guarding the re-fortification efforts of Val Foret.

The Sentinel in question was a veteran. One of a handful to survive and stay since the beginning, a fellow by the name of Tarik. While he was only twenty-two, the man looked closer to his thirties.

“Commander.” He said and saluted me by placing a closed fist on his chest and bowing. In return, I did the same.

“At ease Sentinel. Tell me, why is it you wanted to speak to me?” I asked, taking a seat beside him. I catch a side profile of the young Sentinel. All it does is break my heart. Maker… When was the last time this man slept?

Dark circles hang underneath his eyes, his brown hair a muddled mess. Whenever Tarik blinks, his eyes stay closed for a moment before he forces them open. “The healers have it worse.” He grins proudly. His hands are folded on the table, but the way he has them folded makes you wonder if he’s thinking of sleeping on them. Sleeping in his own armor. “I… Know of some Sentinels that went missing back when the Crows attacked us here.” Tarik slowly brings his gaze to me, letting out a long, silent yawn.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this development. The reports that Cadwgan left me stated that any Sentinels not at the Crown were considered killed. I motioned with my hand for him to continue.

“They’ve been debating endlessly whether or not to come back. There’s about thirty of them, I see them at the Drunken Nug whenever other Sentinels aren't there. They should be there tonight.” I frowned at his last statement. There are better ways of avoiding Sentinels.

“I think you can convince them to come back.” He nods to himself, as if assuring himself that he did the right thing or managed to get his message across.

I smiled warmly at him and placed a hand on his shoulder while I stood. I kept my hand there and looked directly into Tarik’s eyes. “I’ll bring them home. Go get some sleep, that’s an order.” The young Sentinel nods and gets up from his bench. He’s slow to move away from me, and slower still leaving the mess hall.

After he left, I let out a deep breath. Let this old man bring the young ones home.

The last time I was at the Drunken Nug, was when I brought the news of Cadwgan’s ‘death’ at the hands of the Crows. A toast was held, but most seemed interested in celebrating victory. Things changed in such a short time since than, and the Sentinels now seem more keen on rest than celebrating. For they all know their work is not yet finished.

Walking through the doors this time without armor, I felt naked. The few inside the building turned their heads briefly at the newcomer before going back to their drinks. Save for four in the back corner of the place. Those four stared at me, trying to get a read on me. I stared back at them, slowly moving towards them. The four shifted in their seats uncomfortably. This old man knows what you four are. Sentinels.

I pulled up a chair to the table and leaned my cane on the table. One frowned, another rolled her eyes. The other two remained silent, quietly studying me still.

“What brings an old man to our table?” The Sentinel who frowned asks. A nasty scar going from his mouth to his eyebrow tells me that he snuck out of the healers room.

“I want to bring you four, and whomever others that are with you back.” I said quietly. The female Sentinel, snorted and shook her head. The two who were studying me frowned at that notion while the scarred one grinned.

“Why should we come back? To watch as the leaders bicker amongst themselves?” The female Sentinel retorted.

“To watch as our friends and comrades get slaughtered because of one man’s arrogance?” One of the studious Sentinels said.

“Or perhaps to join in on the behind the scenes plotting? To backstab our own comrades? Fuck all that, and fuck you for even trying to bring us back.” The scarred one spat on the ground.

The last Sentinel not speak, finally spoke. “Commander O’Hara is dead. Why should we follow you? Looks to me you can’t even fight.”

I sat there for a moment, contemplating my next move. Can’t fight? Maybe on bad days but… No. I can fight.

“I am the new Commander of the Sentinels. And I promise you, while I’m in power, none of what you experienced shall happen again. You may think me as a crippled old man, but I can fight.” I stood up from my chair and grabbed my cane. “Tell you what. I’ll meet you back here tomorrow with the rest of you Sentinels that left. Find your best fighters, and I’ll fight them. You win, you do whatever the hell you want. I win, you’re back with us.” I turned away from them, them yelling at me, throwing insults and such. I kept walking away till I was at the door and yelled back at them. “Unless, of course, you’re cowards.”

I called Alessia to my office to discuss the plans for tomorrow. Many of the Sentinels were already sleeping, if they were not out on patrol. Unfortunately, it’s only a handful as it stands.

Alessia sits across from me, lightly rapping her fingers on the desk. “So…” She starts. “You want me to do what?”

I flip through some reports, trying to make a guess on who the four Sentinels would be choosing. “I want you to come by here, as you have done before to heal my knee. I know it wouldn’t be permanent, but it’s something.” I paused at one, than continued flipping through.

“I don’t even know if I have the strength to do that. But… I will try. I can accompany you to though.” Bless her heart, such a kind one.

I look up at her and smile. “Well, don’t worry about healing my knee. I’ll take a chance. As for you accompanying me…” I trailed off as I considered my options. I could bring her and some Sentinels with me. Though… The Sentinels as it stands don’t trust me and might betray me and her. I could just leave her here… But a mage would prove invaluable. “Long as the injured are fine, you can join me. Just don’t expect me to be waiting for you.”

Alessia nods and gets up from her chair. She salutes me, and turns away. I can make out blood stains on her uniform. Maker… She must’ve dealt with another amputation.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. What did I get myself into?

2nd of Bloomingtide

“There is no ritual here. There are no words that need to be said to consecrate this meeting, no prayers to see it to its success. The Rite of Voices is simple: speak your mind, and in turn, listen to your comrades in arms. There is no rank here, no command, no veteran and no novice. What is spoken here can be held against no one. We lay down our truths as we would before Andraste."

The mess hall was quiet, every eye on me. My knights waited, listening intently. The air in the room was not quite hostile, but the tension was unmistakable. The last few days had been building to this night. When I had put out the word, the word had spread quickly through our little community. Even the mages had known about it by the first afternoon. A few had even decided to attend, carefully keeping to the back of the crowd. Whether they intended to speak was a whole other matter.

“I cede the floor to whoever wishes to speak,” I said, and stepped into the crowd. My comrades parted to let me rthrough. I waited. No one stepped forward, the empty space we had cleared out in the mess. A low murmur spread out across the room, whispered urging for this man or this woman to step forward. They were all brave knights, but it never easy to step before everyone you know and speak your mind.

Finally, mercifully, Cristau stepped forward. The murmuring ceased and the room fell silent. Cristau took a moment to gather himself, looking back over his shoulder at someone before starting.

“I don’t know how many of you feel this, or how many you agree but… ser Harper, these losses can’t go on any longer.”

He stared at me with the earnest intensity of a man who believed what he was saying and in the need to say it. I waited, and he spoke, the words coming fast.

“I’m not blaming you for the comrades we lost. We’re Templars. We … or well I, understand that we face death in the pursuit of our duties. Saw it at Darismuid, saw it in Rivaine, saw it here. You served in the Blight and you lost a lot of knights at Hochfer. I know you grieve for our dead as much as any of us.”

“But we lost six knights a week ago, and their presence is missed. The truth is, we hold on to each for strength to survive this new world. Every loss is another void in our ranks we know we can’t fill. And every time we lose another comrade, we are another step closer to dissolution. I’ll fight to the bitter bloody end,” and here there was a chorus of ascent. I knew it for what it was: putting a brave face on fear, “but every day that end seems closer and closer.”

He stopped. For a moment, he looked as if he were going to say something more but stopped himself. The crowd opened up, his fellow knights clapping him on the shoulder. The crowd was easy to read, whether I could see their faces or not. It seemed most agreed with Cristau’s words, and more seemed relieved they hadn’t had to say them.

The next knight stepped forward, and began to speak.

It went on like this for a while. The knights talked, spoke their minds. More than once a knight was almost shouted down, before other knights stepped in. It almost came to blows, exactly once. A Kirkwall knight pulled a blade on a Sable. Pedmont stepped in immediately, while the Kirkwaller was disarmed by his fellows.

I watched an d listened as my knights laid their souls bare. Not all spoke, but that wasn’t necessary. I read faces, stances, tics. I listened to the whispers between comrades and the muttered curses. I paid attention to connections: friendships, rivalries, and shared interests.

I understood my Errants better than I had in months.

Part 1

30th of Cloudreach

The courtyard is empty today. Silent, still, and hollow it stands. No Sentinels sparring, no orders being barked. Silence. They’re all gone, off doing their patrols, watching the Rift, acting as security for the construction workers. Spread thing is what the Sentinels are right now. You’d want me to be their commander. No one has told me I am though.

I’ve received looks of suspicion, anger, curiosity, maybe even hate. Tara and Leah have yet to say a word to me. Abbey averts her gaze when I ask her of something. Alessia, bless her heart, has been busy tending to the wounded. She perhaps might be the only one who would ask if I’m alright.

And I would tell her no. I’m not alright. I made a pledge to find this wolf-man, to pierce their heart with my sword. To avenge you, yet I can’t find them. It has only been a day, and your killer and the mercenaries he was with have disappeared. Resources are being diverted elsewhere, to combat the threat of demons of pouring out of strange Rifts. Though truthfully, I don’t think High Sentinel Lobrandt would divert resources to your killer. Your… Actions have caused a small divide within the Sentinels.

But I know why you did it. It was either that, or risk losing more Sentinels. They were your family, and you were my family. The last of my family. For the first time in a long, long time, I feel cold.

Walking through the sunbaked courtyard should warm me, but it doesn’t. The sun in the clear sky should, but it doesn’t. Nothing will. Not anymore.

You won’t receive a funeral. The only thing I can grant you is your ashes being returned home with Tara and Leah. Safety, that’s what you wanted for them, right?

I reached your final resting place. The room is lit dimly, and no one guards your urn. I lead on with my cane, tapping the ground and limping slowly to your urn. Engraved on it is your name. Around it, there’s wetness. Small, tiny partially dried spots; tears from someone. I let my fingers gently brush against your name: Cadwgan O’Hara.

I take my hand away from your urn. Somewhere, you’re telling me to get on with the important tasks at hand. To not worry about you, to mock my stitching. I can’t help but smile. You were always quiet, but now that silence feels so… Final.

Behind me, there are footsteps. Slow, careful, and sad. I turn around slowly, leaning heavily on my cane to see Tara and Leah, garbed in rather simple clothing. The looks on their faces, you can see it right? You thought you were the monster, but that was never the case to them.

I stare at the ground. I can’t bear to look them in the eye. Why should I? You’re dead because you were protecting me. I tap my cane once on the ground, and then limp out of your resting place. Tara grabs my arm for a moment, a tight grip. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. For a moment, the three of us stand there in silence. What could we say to each other?

Tara lets go of my arm, and the two of them go to see you. They’re taking you home, what you promised them. I told them that you were sorry. I told them that just before you were turned to ash. They nodded their heads, watching you as you burned. Their heads and arms linked together, but missing you.

I limped back into the courtyard, and watched as some of the veteran Sentinels came out to watch Tara and Leah depart. I took one final glance at them, before they left through the gates. I let out a sigh and went back to your old room, now my room.

I closed the door behind me and walked over to the desk. No one was going to bother me, no point in locking the door. I leaned my cane up against the side of the desk and sat down. I rested my head on my hand, and started to cry.

I’m going to miss you brother.

Previously: Ballad of Black Birds I

Vol Dorman foothills, Noon

The caravan wheels creak over the sound of the nature surrounding it. Its companions buzz with conversation in the distance. One of them laughs aloud, the heavy armor he’s wearing shaking mightily. They are entirely unaware of what lies in wait.

Cyrros lets out a quiet sigh, resigning himself to the task at hand. Never much enjoyed attacking caravans, He thinks to himself, carefully weaving another spell out of sight. Things never go as planned. Another spell successfully woven, and the caravan is brought further off track from it’s course. Cyrros has been spending the entire morning changing the pathways of the road by covering it with roots and vines. An old trick he learned from his clan. One of the few things he kept when he left.

The caravan nears the ambush site at last, a perfectly exposed area that will give the guards little time to react. Cyrros begins the countdown, charging up the opening attack. Three...Two...One. He raises his staff and releases the spell, causing the ground beneath the wagon to crumble. With a crash it collapses, and the others attack.

The guards immediately react, the dozen men raising shields and putting their backs to the wagon. Lancel charges in from the front, slamming into a man shield to shield and knocking him down. A swift thrust with his sword finishes the job. Cyrros uses the earth to hinder the guards with vines and rocks. His eyes search for the supposed mage in the group, but spots none. He waves his staff in a careful circle with one hand, raising his other slowly. Rocks and branches slowly rise and clump together, forming one solid fist of earth. Once its size matched that of his body he unleashes the spell with a grunt. The fist flies toward the men, but is torn apart by a large spike of ice that arose from the ground. The enemy mage reveals herself, and at the same time places barriers upon the group. Her eyes glare at Cyrros, a snarl on her lips. With a quick motion she begins to shoot large pillars of ice all around Cyrros. Only through his barriers and walls of rock does he survive unscathed.

Not to be outdone, Cyrros let’s fly the lightning towards the mage. With a thunderous roar it slams into her, but her barriers hold strong. A half dozen of the men break off toward the front of the caravan to face Lancel, risking to surround and outflank him. Cyrros prepares another earth spell, but the ice shards flying toward him force him on the defensive, raising another earth wall instead. This attack has gone on too long already. Where in the Fade is Knight?

A few seconds later, he appears. At nearly two meters, his large presence causes a sense of uncertainty in the remaining guards. His thick obsidian armor absorbs the sunlight like a ravenous darkness, the black and silver blade stained with blood, and his face remains hidden behind his dark and fearsome helmet. The mage turns her head to him, assessing the new threat, and speaks a few words to one of the men. He calls out, sending three of his troops to break off to fight Knight. The men attempt to surround him the same way they did Lancel, but a timely lightning bolt from Cyrros cripples one of them. Knight pounces on the opening, cleaving the man along the entirety of his body. Another foe left exposed, Knight threads his swing into a horizontal strike, severing the man’s head from his body. The remaining fighter stabs, aiming for a weak point in the armor. A shift of movement from Knight and the attack slides off his side. With a whirl he tears the man apart, the bulky fighter moving with surprising speed. With no other opposition, he advances steadily toward the mage and remaining guards. Seeing the threat he represents, the mage switches her focus from Cyrros toward the bold new adversary. Cyrros sighs in relief as the ice attacks relent and at last begins to aid Lancel in their own skirmish.

The mage was confident in her abilities, used to having a significant advantage over such bulky enemies with her slowing ice spells. At once she conjures a large spear of ice, firing it at the approaching warrior. The ice finds its mark, blasting over Knight with deadly accuracy. A smirk forms on the mage’s face, but rapidly melts into one of worry. Knight walks through the cloud of frost entirely unscathed, small runes on his armor glowing a faint light blue. The mage fires off more ice attacks from her staff, but to no effect. With a growing look of fear on her face, she begins to cast a fireball, unleashing its full might at Knight only meters away. The blast envelops Knight, but once again he steps out of the smoke and flames with not a scratch. Red runes on his armor likewise glowing faintly red.

The remaining guardsmen surrounding the mage charge toward Knight, their swords and shields the only thing standing in his way. Cyrros leaves Lancel to finish off the last guard and casts a large entanglement spell on the guards. The nature around them becomes their own enemy with branches and vines pulling away their weapons and shields while also distracting them from the dark warrior. With two broad strokes the four men fell to Knight’s blade, the blade itself glowing with an almost rainbow of colors. Two of the men were caught aflame, another two frozen as they fall to the ground.

The mage, now isolated and surrounded, looks with desperation around her. Seeing no alternative, she drops her staff. Cyrros approaches her, albeit cautiously. The quiet of the forest returns, the battle done. “Do you concede?” The mage nods. Cyrros looks at Lancel. “Are you alright?”

He nods. “Nothing a night of prayer and rest won’t fix.”

“Do you even realize what you’re stealing?” The mage interjects.

“Some rare artifact and coin, I expect.” Cyrros shrugs.

Her eyes widen. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Only that it was something easy to carry back.”

“You damn fool,” she shakes her head. “If you did you would have never taken the job. The carg-”

The mage never finished her sentence, her head separated from her body in an instant. Cyrros shot a look of surprise at Knight, who struck the killing blow. “What were you thinking?!”

“She was talking too much.” Knight motions to her right hand and the small flame now expiring from it. “I don’t trust mages who talk too much.” Cyrros feels Knight’s gaze look to him from behind the helmet.

“Damn it, next time don’t kill people we are getting information from. Only kill them after they try to run.”

“I’ll bear that in mind next time.” Knight says flatly, implying that he will not actually do so.

Cyrros continues to press, “We’re a team. We need to work together.”

“Then shall we open the caravan and take what’s inside?” Knight motions to the rear doors, which Lancel was opening.

Cyrros sighs, but drops the matter. Would be nice if he wasn’t so cold to everyone he thinks to himself, investigating the inside of the caravan. His face scrunches up in confusion.

“I don’t understand.”

Lancel turns away, “Maker preserve us.”

Knight shuffles past them and picks up the cargo with one arm and throws it over his shoulder. “Let us move with haste. She feels cold.”

“Wait.” Cyrros takes off one of his robes and places it upon the woman, covering her exposed form. “We need to talk to our contractor as soon as possible.” The other two nod and together the trio of Ravens begin the journey home, one unknown woman as cargo, and many questions on their minds.

*25th of Cloudsreach *

We and the Setinels had taken the remaining carts from the village to carry our dead. Tane had done what he could, making harnesses to pull the carts out of spare bridles and rope. The dead who had been too badly mangled by the demons had been burned on a communal pyre, a few of the Sentinels staying behind to see the fire put out. Talise had stayed with them, armor gleaming in the sun.

The ragged column made its way back to Val Foret, my knights spread along its length in pairs. Piedmont walked next to me at the head of the column.

“The knight lieutenant?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll keep an eye on you, should you wish.”

“Thank you.”

“Still, you were willing to sacrifice yourself to defend that rift. And us.”

“Yes.”

“Without asking?”

“Would you have left?’

“Stood with you through worse. Just…”

“Ask?”

“Ask.”

“Knight captain?” Cowin cried out back down the column. He was at the tree line, hand on his sword hilt.

“That’s a trap,” Piedmont said.

“I know. But I can’t walk away from it.”

“Maker protect the lover’s heart,” Piedmont said. I walked back down the column, past the walking wounded, the carts of the dead. Gyre was trying to teach Cristau a slow song in Tevene, their voices carrying over the ragged column. He nodded to me as I passed. Cowin waited for me to reach him, and gestured to a small path into the forest.

“Partner with Piedmont,” I said. He studied me for a moment, the assassin’s eye for detail working me over. Then he walked away, saying nothing. I moved down the path, the trees rustling in the morning breeze. Kara waited at the end of the, staring up at an ancient elven statue of a herder. The white stone was free of moss and the blackberry bushes at its base were well tended.

“Which one was this?”

“It’s Ghilan’nain, Mother of Halla, in her aspect as the shepherd. Probably predates the Dales, knowing what little I do of the region. And it still has its worshippers, either Dalish or villagers who see it as an aspect of Andraste.”

She looked at me, questioning. I read the exhaustion in her face, the anger, the sadness.

“I read Brother Genitivi’s monographs before he disappeared. A few other scholars when time permits.” In another time, I might have been sheepish. Now, it was the just the truth.

Silence opened up between us. I filled it eventually.

“I did what a Templar should do, at the simplest.”

“We’re not simply templars anymore, Mar.”

“No, we are not.”

“Then why?”

“The higher good. If being a Templar is more than being a guard and tracker, than what are we?We give our lives to shield the world against the Fade and its denizens.”

“You sound like a Warden."

“Both our orders sacrifice a great deal. Not equally, as they give up everything they were. “

Another silence. Kara spoke first.

“You were going to give me command, and your titles.”

“Yes. You’re worthy of them.”

“You really have titles?” she said.

I cracked a smile at that.

“Obscure, all of them. Useful in the right places.”

Kara stepped closer to me, placing a hand on the scarred side of my face. I placed my hand over hers, and we stayed like that for a while.

“When we return to Val Foret, after our dead are properly mourned,” I said, “then we’ll see to the Rite of the Voices. “

We parted with the Sentinels at the gate of Val Foret , their survivors heading for the Crown. We headed for the warehouse district. Knight corporal Cherun and the Templars who had stayed behind met us before we even reached the bridge across the river. Most weren’t wearing helmets, and I could read the worry in their faces. They saw our wounds, the state of our armor, and they saw the cart for the dead. Our column broke down almost instantly, the reunion blocking the traffic trying to cross the market bridge. Andira came to me first, as the knights around us broke formation, talked, yelled, and as the first few reached the dead, wept.

“Knight captain,” she said,” How many did we lose?”

“Flucs, Hamil, Orkdont, Sevril, Kyren and Vol. Orkdont was returned to the Maker’s side at the battlefield ,”I said paused, “ two of the mages died: Ekris and Winon.”

Andira sucked a hiss of air through her teeth. She looked like she wanted to say something.

“Andira?” I asked. At the use of her name, her head snapped up to me.

“Ser, knight captain, I...” she stopped herself, as more knights clustered around the cart. The citizens of Val Foret were watching now, “ser, I’ll get them moving. They don’t need to do this in the street. And there’s business you need to handle back at the compound. “

“Work with Gyre, Cristau and Cowin to get them moving. Do what you think best, Andira.”

She blinked again.

“Ser?”

“Take command of the column, knight corporal.”

“Aye.”

The knight corporals took over, getting the knights away from the dead, and getting them moving. No orders went out, the four knights doing a lot with a kind word and a touch than an order would have done. Soon, we were moving again in something like an ordered column.

As soon as the gates opened I knew something was wrong. The mages were milling about in the square, and a few of the Templars who remained were talking with them. If the they didn’t all have their staffs, then it might have been a welcome sight. They regarded us warily, a few breaking off to meet Jeroth and his mages

And as I walked further in, I saw the carriage frozen to the side of the Templar barracks, held up by a pillar of ice. I stopped, and glanced at Gyre. Someone had cut down the horses, and they were be giving hay by the squires.

“Didn’t seem like the time to tell you. My apologies, knight captain.”

“Forgiven, Gyre,” I said “Jeroth?”

“Knight captain?”

“When you have seen to your dead, please, get the carriage down.”

“In time.”

“Very well. Kara, Andira, get the wounded to Metis. I’ll see to the prisoner.”

I realized there were many eyes on me.

“How’d you know?” Gyre asked

“I know the driver.”

Tane came with me, stalking at my back. He was bone tired as I was. But the carriage had kept him moving. Our armor was still blood stained, and we stank of battle. The brig was in the rear of the barracks and was not often used. Tomas and Mortant were guarding it, my crippled adjutant reading in a chair. He had a crossbow across his lap.

“Knight captain,” he said, putting down his book. It was one of Bonaventure’s collection, a book on the Free Marches if I missed my guess.

“The prisoner?”

“Prisoners. There was a regrettable accident with Senior Enchanter Dascentia, but she should live. The driver and his dog submitted without complaint. He even opened the carriage up after Aglin froze it.”

“Dascentia?”

“Crossbow bolt to the shoulder. The boy who did it,” and he picked up the crossbow to show me, “was a bad shot. Metis is looking after her. Separated the boy and his sister into a cell.”

“I like to see the driver first. And the dog.”

“Tomas, the door,” Mortant said. The knight moved quickly, unlocking to door and opening one handed as he was. The cell beyond was dark, but there was a suggestion of movement. Then a mabari came bounding out with a high pitched whine. Tane froze, and the dog was on him, standing on its hind legs to lick his face.

“Sobaka,” Tane said, and fell backwards as the dog shook with excitement. They hadn’t seen each other in the better part of a year, and an actual smile cracked Tane’s face. Tane sat as the dog, thinner than when I’d last seen it, rolled and whined.

“Knight captain,” Te Awa said, stepping out of the cell like a ghost. He offered his arm, and I clasped it readily. He was thin and tired and his hair was far greyer than I’d last seen him, but he was alive.

“Where have you been?

“Sobaka led me out after the camp was overrun. Tried making it to Denerim, but the war reached their first. Wandered the east for… months before I made it back to Redcliffe. And… knight captain, I am sorry.” “There’s no need, Te Awa, no need at all.”

“Not what I meant. Knight lieutenant Mortant?” Te Awa said. Mortant started at that. Mortant, even when he’d served as one of my lieutenant, had never had much reason to talk to Te Awa. Neither did many of the witch hunters, “I think the knight captain needs to see the children. And the crossbow.”

“Tomas, the other cell,” Mortant said and stood, the crossbow in his remaining arm. I got a good look at the crossbow for the first time. The stock was richly lacquered oak, but otherwise simple. The arms were good steel, well maintained. The only true ostentation was the inset bull icon, made of brass long gone green.

“Oh,” I said, knowing what it meant. Tomas opened the other door, and a boy, no more than twelve winters, came out slowly. He was thin and pale and he had his father’s look at about that age. His sullen anger matched his father as well. A little girl followed, no more than eight, and I could see the resemblance between the two. I remembered letters, terse and to the point, announcing their births.

“He said you would know the words,” the boy said.

“The Ox is the land,” I said,” what happened to your parents?”

My nephew sagged, and his sister began to cry.

Escape - Part 2

25th of Cloudreach

Our ragged, wounded, weary collection of soldiers reached the Crown with the morning light. At any other time I might have indulged in gazing at the sun-tinged sky, but I was so exhausted that moving forward took all of my strength. The men beside me that still had the energy to seemed shaken by our experience. I was not, but I knew that was not due to tiredness. The moment we entered the fortress I headed straight to the barracks, joining a number of soldiers with the same idea. No one stopped us.

Exerting the minimum effort to remove my muddied boots and toss my staff aside, I laid down on my bed and instantly fell asleep.

I was standing in a doorway, staring into a familiar small room. The hearth was empty, with not even embers to warm it. The candles on the desk and shelf were melted down to stumps. The small bed in the corner was unmade, sheets of paper strewn over it. A small puddle of blood had gathered next to the threshold. The door hung open, its many locks undone.

I was there again.

Why was I there again? I escaped. I would have killed myself before coming back, why-

I turned around stormed down the hallway toward the exit. I refused to stay there.

The rooms I passed were dark and empty. Good. Perhaps they were asleep, or gone. I would not- could not -face them. Not then and not now.

I reached the central chamber, the last room before the stairs up and out, and stopped. I forgot how to breathe.

He was still lying there.

Why is he- did they not move- why is he still here?!

Unable to stand the sight, I turned away. Arms wrapped around myself and struggling to even my breathing, a voice called from behind.

“Just awful, is it not?”

I did not look, but I knew the voice.

“Such a kind, brave, talented young man… cut down like an animal.”

The words cut deeply. My body shook from the pain.

“Anyone capable of such an atrocity would have to be…”

I turned around.

The demon wearing my face smiled. “...a monster.”

“I am in the Fade,” I whispered. Whether to tell the demon or assure myself, I was not sure.

“Of course you are,” it answered, still grinning, “but that does not mean you can run from the truth.”

“What manner of demon are you?” I demanded. “What do you want?”

It chuckled with my voice, low and amused. “What do I want? That is such a boring question. I am a demon, I want what all demons want. You, however…” It laughed again. “What you want is a great deal more interesting.”

I felt my brows furrow. “What I want..?”

“Oh, you managed to play the good little mage.” The demon’s grin grew. “‘A stunning performance, to be sure,’” it echoed in a mockery of what I had said to Winters’ demon. ”But we both know what you truly wanted. It must have been so difficult,” it cooed, ”to resist the temptation of all that blood!”

My veins turned to ice. I had wanted... but I abstained. I had to remember my promise.

“Oh yes, that silly little ‘promise’ you made must have seemed such a small thing. I know you made it to your dear sweet friend, but… well…” it gestured to the body still in the room behind me. “Given how little his life ultimately meant to you, I was surprised-”

“Shut. Up.” I cut in, tone venomous.

It tilted it's head. “Oh, did I hit a nerve?”

“Shut up, demon. I will not listen to your lies.” They had to be lies.

“Lies?” It blinked and reared back, playing at being insulted. “I have said nothing but the truth. Is it my fault you are such a terrible person that you felt nothing when brave men died around you?”

“What form of demon are you?” I hissed, half in anger and half in desperation. “Desire, pride, rage, what?!”

The demon stepped closer to me, staring at me with my own dark eyes. “You already know, dear Tamaran. This is not our first meeting, after all.”

Stunned, I opened my mouth to refute it, but suddenly I understood. As I spoke, the Fade began slipping away.

“You are …”

I awoke in the barracks. Midday light filtered through the windows. My body ached like I had never known, but I forced myself up into a sitting position. My fisted hands shook.

A word sat on my tongue, heavy as lead.

“...Guilt.”

Previously: Legacy III

The Fade, Date Unknown

“Where are you going off to?” I ask Cato, his things already packed on Mercurial.

“Oh, you know. Here and there.”

“Cato.”

“I’ll only be gone for a few days, alright?” He pats my head in a fatherly manner, just like my real father used to. “There’s a dragon that need slaying.”

“You’re going to slay a dragon?!” I look at him with wide eyes.

“Well, no, not unless it eats all my clothes.” He gives me a playful wink.

I roll my eyes at him and leave him to his packing. “Just try not to get another assassin on our ass.”

He gives me a playful laugh. “That won’t happen, silly, I’m already dead.” I freeze, wondering what kind of joke he’s trying to pull.

“What do you mean-” I begin to turn around, only to find myself no longer in the stables; Not even in the keep. No, the deep cavern walls of the the mountain gleam in an unholy light. Cato still stands before me, but was not the same. He looks a decade older, sick, leaning on his sword. His smile turned into a stern expression.

“You already forgot? You left me to die. To rot in some piss poor Crow hideout.” His hands and feet begin to slowly coat with ice, but his eyes burn with hate. He begins to walk closer, each word bringing him one step toward me. “You killed me. And now,” He points his sword at my petrified form. No matter how much I tried to move, not a single muscle in my body responded. “It’s time to return the favor.” He draws his sword back and swings it right toward my neck. The last sound I hear is the steel cutting flesh.

25th of Eluviesta, Fourth Month of the Theodesian Calendar, Late Morning, The Gates of Val Foret.

The trek back to the city was a slow one. Conversations were muted, both from exhaustion and fear of the night before. Some Sentinels were even jumping at the slightest noise, believing some shadow was really a demon waiting for them. I only wanted to rest, but the dreams never stopped becoming nightmares lately. No matter how much I remind myself it was not my fault… I shake the thoughts from my mind and focus on the gates ahead.

Val Foret was, for all it’s faults, a beautiful city. The eastern gates leading to the market district held the ornate elegance that Orlesians are famous for, the walls stand proud against any possible invasion, and within the city the markets were bustling with activity. War and famine did not stop the exploding trade of this major city, it seems. The Orlesian Civil War might come to this city some day, but I was thankful it at least did not occur today. Today, I sleep.

Evening

“Gods this is boring.” I sigh, passing the oak tree to my right for the ninth time. Transitioning from an all out battle of survival to patrol duty is...underwhelming, to say the least. There are at least a dozen other things that require my attention, and I’m stuck walking in circles for the foreseeable future. I glance over at Elador, my companion for tonight. At least the view is nice.

He looks at me, a smile briefly flitting across his face, then looks back up to the surrounding forest. “I enjoy these forests. They are very beautiful to look at.”

I listen to the small creatures of the night chirp and whistle around us, the sound of both our breaths, and feel the breeze of the sea blowing in. Shaking my head, I concede, “Alright, point taken. It’s not as boring as it could be.” Elador remains silent, diverting from the path we have been walking on. “Where-” he puts a finger over his lips and motions me to follow. Our path takes us deeper into the forest, vines overgrowing the dirt road. Just as I start to ask him again we enter a clearing.

“Do you like it?” He motions to the clearing nervously, a few fireflies dancing among the grass and trees.

“Yes, but-”

“I’m not good at social...things,” He flinches at his wording, but presses on. “But yesterday taught me something. I can’t lose you.”

“Elador-”

“When I saw you fall before the Rift, I never felt more afraid in my life. I thought you were dead. I couldn’t lose another person I care about. Because Elyria, I do care about you. I...iloveyou.” He blurts out the words like a great wind finally being released. “I know you may not feel the same, but I-”

“Oh shut up.” I breathe, cutting off the confused response escaping his lips with a kiss. He stands frozen, stunned, but soon recovers and wraps his arms around me, and I fall into him.

Some time later

“Finally!” Velanna exclaims loudly. Our patrol groups switched, Elador and I parting for now, and Velanna now walking by my side.

“Finally...what?” She’s been giving me a knowing look the second she saw me, and now my confusion has peaked.

“Oh don’t play dumb with me,” she scoffs, “You and Elador were definitely beating guts!”

“We what?!” I look at her like she grew a second head.

“You know, he went cave-diving, you both were making the beast with two backs, you played Nug-a-Nug-”

“We-” I interject, but stop myself. My face feels flushed in embarrassment. Thank the Maker for the dark night. “We took a detour.”

She snickers. “Call it what you want, you can’t hide that glow on your face from me.”

“I am not glowing.”

“Call it what you want~”

I shake my head, feeling more embarrassed by the minute. Wait… “So you’re not...jealous?”

She snorts, “Of course not, why should I be?”

“I just assumed with the way you acted around him…”

She laughs her voice piercing the forest around us and scaring the critters of the night away. “I only did that so you would get your ass moving.”

“Seriously?!” I give her a look of disbelief, bewildered by the mind of this woman.

She continues laughing, making my face even redder. A branch snaps. We both go quiet, searching the tree line. I silently cast a barrier upon myself, preparing for the worst. With a curse, ten men step out of their hiding places, surrounding us. Armed.

“Well well, what are a couple’a girls like you doing prancing about these woods?” One of them, looking to be the leader, asks.

“We’re patrolling for the Sentinels of Val Foret. I recommend you put your weapons away before you get yourselves hurt.”

“Ha! You’re a funny one,” He sneers at my order “You see, we’s heard about a couple’a Tevinter witches walking about tonight. You wouldn’t happen to be them, would you?” He eyes my scythe with a glint in his eye.

“No, we’re simple warriors that work for Lord Ranmarque himself.” I begin to calculate which one of them to attack first.

“If you’re no foreigner, why’re you speakin’ with a foreign accent?” The man’s fingers clench around his two axes. “And why do you have that big fancy staff there?”

I mentally curse myself for letting my accent give us away. “It’s a scythe.”

“Not from where I’m standing. You know what they do to witches in the south, little girl?”

“Something terrible I imagine. It’s a good thing we aren’t-” An arrow whistles through the air and slams into my barrier. I flinch as the dark blue glow momentarily appears at the impact point, the arrow bouncing off and into the darkness.

“The bitch is a mage!” One of the men shout. “Kill her!”

Velanna unsheathes her daggers in a flash, letting the lightning flow through them with a hum. “This one too!” Another man shouts and charges her. She parries his club with one dagger, and ripostes with her off-hand weapon with a stab to the gut. The lightning crackles as it cuts through flesh, causing a gasp from the man as he falls further onto the blade.

I bring my scythe up in time to block two swords from my front and back, kicking the man coming from the side at the leg to bring him down. With a burst of force magic I repel the three men away, just in time for a fourth to barrel toward me with a greataxe. I unleash a burst of lightning from one end, sending him tumbling to the ground in paralysis. The second man recovers first, exchanging two hits with his sword against my scythe before I slash him across the lower body, and then set him aflame. His screams drown out the leader coming from behind with the axes. The first hit bounces off my barrier, the blow staggering me. I block the second hit with my scythe, countering with a lightning shock to the foot. He drops his guard, and I take the opportunity to cut him across the face.

More attackers appear from the treeline, some still shooting arrows and others bearing more blunt and sharp weapons. Velanna and I find ourselves back to back, no route of escape evident. “Got any ideas?” She asks me.

“Cut a path and run or fight to our last breath.” I tell her.

“I got a better one.” She sheathes her daggers, leaving her hands free. Two of the men in front of her look at each other in confusion then charge Vel. She only smirks. Three men charge me at the same time, And I bring my scythe forward to meet their weapons.

But the clash of steel never came. Instead, all of the men were lifted off their feet, and the sound of demonic screams were piercing the air. I look back at Velanna, eyes wide with fear as I process what I see: The red glow emanating from her latched onto each and every combatant around us, droplets of blood floating in the air, Velanna’s hands upraised, her left covered in her own blood, and the unrestrained terror in each man’s eyes as they look upon this woman stopping them all with her bare hands.

“Velanna!” I cry out to her, my heart racing and my scythe hesitantly raised.

“Relax, I’ve got this.” Her voice sounds slightly distorted.

“Stop it now!” I order.

“Let us go you demon!” one of the men cry out. Velanna looks at him with a bloody grin.

“Right. Thank you for volunteering.” She clenches her left hand into a fist, and with a short scream the man explodes, the area now coated in blood.

“Velanna!” I scream at her again, lightning now flaring on my scythe.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t play with my food.” And with a single gesture the forest sings with screams and rains with blood.

Next: Shadows and Lies

29th of Cloudreach

Chapter 7

I looked around my now near empty room. Save for a chest containing information I would leave Frederick, and a couple personal items of my own. Tara and Leah convinced me to take them back to Fereldan. Back home, to Amaranthine. Mother and Father will be happy to see me. Will they even recognize me?

Some of the Sentinels, the veterans that I had trained since coming here came to say goodbye. Hugs, handshakes, and tearful farewells, accompanied by a couple ‘why did you do it?’ or ‘the High Sentinel is an ass’. My actions were as divisive as the men I’ve cut in half. It was time, that’s what Leah had said. Time to leave and settle down, with us.

But… Something had plagued me. A couple days ago, a Sentinel had reported to me that a mercenary group had entered Val Foret. After doing some digging, I had discovered they were The Roughs, led by a man named Oskar. Normally, nothing would be noteworthy about them, save for the fact one member was Roland the Killer.

Roland the Killer, an infamous name to be sure in less… Stellar circles. It is said that Roland was half-human, and half-elven. He grew up a rough life, not wanted by many to be sure. His father was killed by disease and his mother died just before he turned fourteen. Some say he was picked up by a criminal network, others say he was trained by a wandering but vicious swordsmaster.

No one knows for sure, but what is known that he became a very skilled fighter, willing to work for any client, any contract.

Most infamous for his work of eradicating several noble families, and anyone going after him. No one knows the agreement he made with The Roughs, but it must be mutual.

The armor I had worn in the battle at the rift was still in repair. I opted to wear some leather armor instead, for old times sake for the meeting. Better to be safe than sorry.

As I left the courtyard, Red jogged up to me. “You want me to come with you?” He asked, his silver armor glistening in the sun.

“No. And keep Tara and Leah here. You have command of the Sentinels till Frederick arrives.” I said with a wink.

He nodded, and went off to talk to some Sentinels while I left the gate. Guard Captain Alec did not greet me, no doubt as he was on the night shift. The two gate guards saluted as I walked past them and made my way through the town.

The Roughs were said to have taken residence in an old inn just outside of town. As I walked through the streets, several Sentinels gave me subtle nods as I passed them. The townspeople were going about their day as if nothing had changed. As I approached the old gate leading out of town, workers were busy building and reinforcing the wall. No longer my legacy.

Tara and Leah would be disappointed. All work, and no relaxing. They want me… No… They want us, all three of us to be happy. Is that what you wanted, old friend? Happiness? I hope you find some.

The thought of disappointing them hurt. With each step, it hurt more. When I reached the inn, I wanted to burst into tears. But I had to keep my composure. For The Sentinels of Orlais.

I opened the inn door and was greeted by a man in some odd looking leather armor, linked with chainmail. A large wolf pet as worn around him, not unlike a cloak. He was sitting on a old table.

“So the Commander of the Sentinels of Orlais has come to pay The Roughs a visit, eh?” His voice was cool, almost cold. Gruff, even.

I nodded. “I’m looking for Oskar.” I said firmly.

The man frowned in the shadowed room. The sun was creeping through holes in the roof. “Oskar left to hunt. It’s just me.”

“Alright.” I said, nodding in an annoyed fashion. “Want to tell me why a mercenary company of roughly fourteen men are doing here?”

A sinister smile creeped up on his face. “A noble father is looking for his son. Maybe you know him… Frederick Llewellyn the Second of the Konigsmann family. His father is paying us quite the sum.”

And you will not find him.

I didn’t answer him, didn’t even think of what I did. I just did it, as he would do for me. I grabbed my greatsword and charged at him. A laugh came from the wolf man, and he lept away. My sword came down and smashed the table.

“The bloody honey cannot stop, Mad Dog!” A taunt, a catchphrase. A send off that only one man was said to use.

Roland the Killer.

“You die here, Killer.” I barked as I charged him again, my sword dragging along the ground. I swung it upward, sending dust in front of him. My sword my contact with someone hard, and as the dust settled… It was his sword.

There’s was a glint in his eyes, one filled with malice. He pushed forward, forcing me to backstep while our swords still locked. Roland pushed us outside, the sun to his back. I could make out his face clearly now. A tall man, long hair, five o’clock shadow, and a longsword made of black steel.

“You’ll be the first than, to die in our quest to find him.” A taunt, a bluff. I wasn’t going to allow him to kill me, and find him. I’ll die before they find him.

I headbutted him, stunning him and followed up with a stab from my greatsword. He nudged my weapon of track, just missing him. I saw him with his free hand pull out a dagger and plunge it into my left shoulder, right under the leather. I screamed out in pain as he pulled it out. Damn thing is serrated, bastard.

I hurt to move my left arm. But I didn’t want to stop, I couldn’t. I swung at him as best I could. He effortlessly rolled under it, and slashed at my back with his black sword. It was cold, very cold. I stumbled forward, quickly recovering and swung at him again. With his dagger, he stabbed it into my left side and pulled it out quickly. I let out another scream and dropped my sword.

Roland was laughing. “You know, you don’t have to die. Tell me where he is and I’ll let you off the hook.”

I started to laugh too, and shook my head as I charged at him. I managed to tackle him and land a couple punches before I felt his dagger again in my right side. I rolled over to the right side as he dusted himself off.

He spat out a tooth, and waited for me to get up. I stood up and took a swing at him. He spun around it and slashed at the back of my legs with his longsword.

I fell to my knees, feeling blood in my mouth. Roland levelled his sword at my neck and grinned.

“I am disappointed.” His comment was so.. Final.

As he pulled the sword back for the stab, I could hear a horse stampeding towards us. Roland looked towards Val Foret in confusion, as Red came in with his sword low. He knocked the black sword out of Roland’s hands as Roland dug the dagger into the horse. Red flew off the horse as the animal reared back and fell to the ground at the end of it’s sprint. Red picked himself off the ground, and Roland unsheathed a shortsword from his back.

“You’re too late Red.” He said as he drove the shortsword through my chest. I coughed once, blood flying out of my mouth as Roland twisted the sword and pulled it out.

I fell onto my back, the world slowly becoming a blur.

In that moment, I felt the same helplessness that I did when I lost you. The same cold feeling that gripped my heart. Instead of a wife, I lost a brother.

“No!” I yelled as the wolf man picked up his longsword. I tore my helmet off, I needed to see this man with my own two eyes, not hidden behind a helmet.

“Ahh. Frederick! So glad you could join us!” The wolf man said, “Your father is looking for you.”

I unsheathed both my swords and ran at him. He brought up his longsword and shortsword, our blades locking.

“You can try and kill me, but you’ll lose your dear friend. Tell you what, I’ll go off somewhere else, and maybe, you’ll save your friend.” A despicable grin crossed his face. He pulled his swords away from our lock slowly as the deal began to set in.

“I’ll see you around…” Was all the wolf man said as he waved a goodbye.

I dropped my swords and ran to Cadwgan, whom was coughing up blood.

“Cad!? Cad! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry brother. If I… If I got here sooner...” I said, trying to stop the bleeding. He swatted my hand away and laughed.

“You and I both know you can’t stitch worth…” More coughs of blood, and my brother clasped my elbow with his hand. “Shit. Hehe ha… Tell… Tara and Leah, that I’m sorry…” His eyes flickered closed, and his fell back. His strong grip now gone.

My eyes widened, and my heart sank. The small group of Sentinels, the veterans came running and saw him. They quickly ran over and asked who did this.

I shook my head. “I never got his name, but he wore a wolf cloak.” I was fighting back tears. “I am Frederick Llewellyn the Second of the Konigsmann family. I am your new commander. Your first order is to…”

I stood up slowly, the elbow of my armor was covered in blood, same with my gauntlets. “Retrieve my helmet, his sword, and clear a path to The Crown. I will carry his body back.”

They nodded solemnly, some with tears in their eyes. I carefully lifted up Cadwgan’s large body. Despite it being far heavier than something I should carry, it was something I must do alone. For he carried me away from my dead wife’s corpse, as the flames licked at us.

By the time I had reached the Crown, the Sentinels, Tara, Leah, and Abbey became aware of Cad’s fate. I set him down carefully, as if he was a precious babe, in the middle of the courtyard. Tara and Leah, as well as Abbey were distraught; weeping over his body.

I couldn’t see High Sentinel Ranmarque or Spymaster Dareth’El. But I knew they were close.

One of the Sentinels came up to me, clearly not knowing who I am. “Who are you?” He asked, his voice somber as he glanced at Cad’s body.

I inhaled deeply and exhaled softly. “My name, is Frederick Llewellyn the Second of the Konigsmann family. I am from the Free Marches, from Tantervale. I was a noble’s son, whose father cast him out of his own family. I became a mercenary many years ago, and started a mercenary company with Cadwgan, as well as Tara and Leah.”

The two of them looked up at me, in shock. I continued. “I found love, and married my wife, Talia who was killed by assassins. Cadwgan saved me, and helped me on my quest of vengeance on all those who died that night. I became The Red Stripe for a time, pretending to be dead.”

I stopped, and looked at Cadwgan’s body. I closed my eyes, holding back the tears. “My father is looking for me. The man he hired to look for me; killed Cadwgan. The wolf man that killed him will pay by my hand alone. My father, as well. I am not my father’s son, I cast away that name long ago and only used it to earn the position here.” *It’s time. * “I am Rickard, and I will make them pay.”

Part 6

Finale

Some years ago…

Sitting in a bar clad in armor tends to make people nervous. The people here in this lonely travelers inn all left. The bartender wanted to leave, but thought better of it. Guess he thinks we’re here to steal his money. Far from it.

While I sat and enjoyed a Fereldan Ale to myself, Red was perched on a chair staring at the only way in. It was raining outside, a light rain. You could hear it dripping off the roof and onto the ground.

“You didn’t bring your sword.” Red said quietly.

“Didn’t think I’d need it. Thought me and you were just having a nice chat about Fallen Company’s future prospects.” I took a sip of the ale and set it down on the counter. “Instead you’ve roped me into killing some of Beaumonts men.”

Red chuckled quietly, “I didn’t hear you protest.”

I smiled and took another sip of ale. “Yeah…” I answered. The door swung open behind me. Wet, leather boots marched into the tavern. I finished my ale and waited for them to make a move.

“We’re looking for a certain mercenary going by The Red Stripe, you two see him?” A gruff sounding man said. I could hear Red laughing in response.

“Took you long enough, gentlemen. And you only brought twelve! For shame.” Red stood up and readied himself for battle. Twin swords slid out of their sheathes, moving like a blur as they cut through the lead mercenaries throat. Blood sprayed from the man’s throat, lightly sprinkling Red and some of the other mercenaries in blood.

The remaining mercenaries unsheathed their weapons and attempted to charge at Red in the small tavern. A couple came after me, letting loose a battle cry. One of them attempted to stab my hand in an effort to keep it pinned to the counter. He missed, and I bashed the side of his face with the tankard. He stumbled back while his comrade behind him came running at me with an axe. I fell off my chair trying to avoid him, though he tripped and flipped over the counter.

The first mercenary, who managed to shake off my hit came at me with the knife again. His stab was slow, and I grabbed his wrist and twisted it. There was a crack and a scream of pain, the knife dropping to the ground. I let go of my grip on his wrist and quickly picked up his knife, and dug it deep into his stomach.

“Chew on that for a bit.” I taunted as I pushed him to the ground.

The axe mercenary let out a battle cry from behind, his axe high in the air as he charged at me. I grabbed a nearby chair and countered charged him. We collided, the axe flying out of his hand while I pinned him back to the counter. I looked over to Red, surrounded by four mercenaries while six lay still on the ground.

I turned my attention back to the mercenary. “So Beaumont hired you.” It wasn’t a question, more of a statement. The man nodded quickly, his mouth agape as he watched Red cut down the four men with the grace of a dancer. “He brought this upon himself you know. We’ll let you live if you tell us where he went to hide.”

The mercenary spat at me in disgust. “And forsake my family? I’d rather die to Stripes over there than to tell you where he hides.” I began to grind my teeth. The mercenary laughed at my frustration.

“Don’t worry Cadwgan, he’s told us where Beaumont is. Release him.” Red’s command was odd, but I complied all the same. Soon as I did, the mercenary took a step forward to take a swing at me, and a silver flash crossed my sight. Blood began to squirt out of the mercenaries throat as the lifeless body fell to the ground.

I turn to Red in confusion, scratching the back of my head as I looked at the twelve bodies. “Guess you got eleven… And know where Beaumont is.” I mumbled, feeling a bit worthless.

“Well you would have gotten more if you brought your damn sword with you.” A jolly laugh, one that I had not heard in years came from Red as he slapped me on the back. A couple town guards came running in, surprised at the bodies. Before they could question me and Red, we left a large tip for the bar keep and quickly bolted out the door and into the rain.

“Beaumont has an estate in the countryside. Usually goes to hunker down for months on end if he suspects someone is onto his smuggling and slavery operations.” Red had not been forthcoming with information up to this point, leaving me with only the faintest idea of what Beaumont’s connection to the old mercenary company’s destruction. “Just before our company was destroyed, Beaumont and another unknown noble had purchased several highly skilled assassins and at least one or two mages to infiltrate our organization and destroy it.” Red paused as the rain began to halt.

“They were leading us along as well. At least five or six contracts that were given to us were traps. Those were the jobs that caused us to lose quite a few people. I have a couple friends in underworld circles that confirmed it and gave me information on Beaumont’s smuggling and slavery operations. Said operations are now defunct, and Beaumont runs like the cornered rat he is.”

When Red finished, I merely nodded at him. “Do it for them.” I said plainly. He nodded in agreement.

“Beaumont’s family, or what’s left of it was in on it. They’ll all pay.” With a clenched fist, he slammed it against a nearby tree. I know Red. I know. “They’ll all pay.”

“And this other noble?” I asked.

Red turned his head to me slowly. While I couldn’t see his face, I could see his grey eyes clearly. “Soon as I know who they are, they’re as good as dead. If I have to, I’ll strangle them with my bare hands.”

I nodded slowly. Grief has changed you, old friend. Will I get to see the old, kind you again?

9th of Guardian, Midnight, Pilgrim’s Path , Frostback Mountains

The tree was across the road, thick as a man’s waist and just enough to stop the sleigh . The Pilgrim’s Road to Haven was supposed to be clear, and only the most determined sleigh drivers tried it during the depths of winter. Only the insane or desperate would try it during a war. And yet, by a miracle of the Maker, one had come in the dead of night with only moonlight to guide them and right into the trap.

Emile slid out wood line, snow falling around him. It was cold in the mountain passes, the dagger in his hand colder. He was not a bad person. He was not a monster. The templars had burned down his village and taken their winter stores.

The sleigh was a converted coach with no windows and painted a dark black. Its doors were thick and reinforced with metal. The horses pulling it had seen better days, thin under the thick blankets covering them. A man jumped down from the driver’s perch, and walked across the snow toward the downed tree. He hadn’t yet seen the dozen or so villagers turned bandits creeping out of the wood line

Emile steeled himself for what would come next.

“Hold, stranger,” he said, the voice hard, not his own, not the one he had used to teach his son how to care for the land that his family had tended to for generations.

The man, thin, short and cloaked, looked up at him. The driver glanced around, taking in the bandits. He raised a hand to forestall them.

“You do not have to do this,” the driver said, putting his back to the downed tree. There was an alien sound to the driver’s word, an accent that Emile had never heard. It was a burr, a twist, the careful over pronunciation of a child.

“Give us your food, your gold and your horses, and we’ll let you live,” Emile said, taking another step closer. It was a death sentence, with Haven a week away and the weather worsening.

“I cannot,” the driver said, “please.”

“Just-“ Emile said, and one of the other bandits charged forward, stabbing forward with a rusty spear that had hung over a mantelpiece for generations. The driver moved like a flowing shadow in the snow that struck out with the club, two arm lengths of lacquered and steel studded wood. There was an almighty crack and the bandit staggered back, the spear shattered to splinters.

“Please,” the driver said, crouched, ready to spring. Emile felt a raw terror in his heart. It reached his mouth and she screamed and ran at the driver. The other bandits followed, their ancient and make shift weapons raised. The driver whistled, loud and sharp.

The horses whinnied, stomped and Emile heard the jangling of a bell. A black shadow leapt out from nowhere to pin one of the bandits, knocking her down and worrying her with its teeth. A mabari, Emile realized in the still rational part of his mind, thin and drawn but still a mabari.

But it was too late to do anything about it. The driver was among them, his club whistling as he swung it through the air.

A crack and a man fell, skull split. An overhand blow and a crack of shattering bone, and a woman fell with her chest sunken in. A man went down, the mabari biting into his leg and dragging him away. A blow from the club shattered the antique cutlass in a bandit’s hand, and the backswing broke his neck. Then the driver was upon Emile.

The driver’s first blow missed, whistling by Emile’s ear as he danced backward. He’d been good on his feet, always had, a demon dancing among the maidens as some if the good wives of his village had said. It saved his life. The next blow missed him by a hair, and then another bandit was between them, and the club found its mark. The bandit was slammed sideways, not even screaming as a second blow struck him.

Emile ran then, turning back for the woods. Behind him, the club cracked against bone again and again. Screams filled the night, as well as the growling of the mabari as it savaged another bandit.

He almost made it to the woods when the crossbow bolt caught him in the back. He pitched forward into the snow and was still.

The driver caught his breath, taking in great lungful’s of freezing air, exhaling great clouds of steam. For a moment it reminded him of the great vents in the ocean floor he had witnessed while diving for abalone. But that was a lifetime ago. He let the image pass from his mind.

The black mabari padded to his side, shaking with cold and exertion. The driver scratched it between the ears as thanks. It sat next to him, leaning against his leg, panting

The boy with the crossbow, and he was still a boy no matter what he said, looked down at the driver from the coach’s roof.

“Are they all dead?” the boy asked, the driver knowing there were tears in the boy’s eyes even in the dark.

“Yes, “the driver said, “I will see to them.”

“But-“

“Get back to sleep. In the morning, it will be as if it never was.”

The boy stared at him for a moment longer, and then closed the hatch.

The driver began to drag the bodies away, piling them for burning. He was exhausted, months of travel written into worry lines on his face and the gauntness of his frame. There was no going on this winter. He would stop in Haven, rest, eat, buy new horses, and replace the runners with wheels . Then when spring cleared the passes, he would head into Orlais and navigate the war on the other side of the mountains.

And then he would find knight captain Harper and the world would make sense again. At least that’s the lie Te Awa told himself.

Disclaimer: These are events that occur from the perspectives of other members of the Ravens, not with Elyria.

The sun soars high over the Imperial Highway, the opening signs of spring bringing a new vibrancy to the plant life. The creak of Cain’s wagon wheels moves at the rhythm of its cycles. Cain herself hums a mellow tune, enjoying the bird calls and rustling of the leaves. That is, until Alcouda’s booming laugh breaks the serenity.

“Good one, Charon. I don’t think either of us can top that story.” He says with a broad grin. Cain glares at him, her peaceful journey now broken. His grin drops and he pretends to clear his throat in response.

The sound of beating hooves echoes from up the road. The trio look forward, Cain’s hand idly fingering her crossbow. The lone rider comes into view after a few seconds, his long brown hair and almond eyes giving away his identity.

“Nelras, glad you made it back safely!” Alcouda exclaims as Nelras slows down and turns to move with the caravan again. “I take it the trip went well?”

“Very. The roads are clear up to the town.” Nelras responds in his low, smooth voice.

“And the contact?” Charon asks, sitting up straighter on his horse to mean business.

“Ready for us. Looks like another smooth exchange.”

“Good to hear.” Cain gives him a small smile. “My ass is sore from this blighted wheel jostling me all day.”

Nelras laughs and returns the smile with an even wider one. “Not to worry, we’re almost there.” He assures the group.

Bleckinsbal, River town adjacent to the Minanter River

The caravan comes to a halt next to a medium-sized inn, all dismounting and stretching limbs. “We can gather the shipment later.” Charon tells them. “But I want to rest on a comfy chair and drink some good mead.” The group gives a small chorus of agreement and sidles into the inn one after another.

The interior is lit up with the open windows and a low fire at the wall furthest from them, providing an orange and red glow to the entire room. The group of four settle down at a simple large round table and order a round of drinks. Alcouda turns to Charon. “So Charon, where do you hail from?”

“Rivain, but I left there a long time ago.”

“For mercenary work?” “No, a different profession back then.”

The barmaid places the mugs on the table, and the group take a few seconds of silence to drink their fill. Charon wipes his beard of foam, “And you, girl?” He asks Cain. “What is your story?”

She measures out her response, telling her long rehearsed lie like some talk of the weather. “I was a farmer’s daughter. Wanted something more than fields and cattle.”

“How did you get the scars?” He presses. Cain feels the large scar on her face begin to itch.

“Same way we all do.” Charon nods, satisfied. Cain drinks another gulp, letting the alcohol dull the itch away.

A few minutes of idle conversation pass. Cain, feeling restless, finally stands. The others look at her, and she puts a silver on the table. “I’m going to go meet our client.” She informs them. “Two of you stay here. I only need one other.”

Nelras stands. “I’ll go.” Cain gives him a nod and begins walking back toward the door. With a creak of its rusted hinges the cool evening breeze floats in.

Cain takes a deep breath outside. Nelras exits behind her. Both spend a minute in silence, letting the calm river town’s atmosphere envelop them. Cain gives Nelras a look. He nods, placing a hand briefly on her shoulder, their mutual understanding carrying them forward.

The modest store opens with a small bell ringing. A dwarf appears from the back, a wide mouthed grin on their face. “Hello, hello! What can I get you two travelers today?”

“We’re here on some special business.” Cain looks at him with a flat stare. “The birds are out foraging.” She waits for him to understand the code. At first he gave no hint of recognition. Then like a fat king being served another boar, his grin spreads even wider.

“Ah, you’re that special shipment.” He turns and moves towards the back, motioning the pair to follow. The two of them shrug and stay close behind the dwarf. A bare section of wall clicks open and soon Cain finds herself walking down a wooden staircase lit by torchlight. Eventually the staircase gives way to a wooden storage space, with a tunnel of darkness on the other side of the room.

“It’s not often I get such large orders.” The dwarf remarks while searching the sign of each pile for the right shipment. “But then again, I don’t usually deal with such well-equipped groups as yerselves.” With a small shout of triumph he begins to move a cluster of stacked boxes to the center of the room. “As requested: Two orders of raw grey iron, one order of red steel, one quarter-order of silverite, five orders of deep mushrooms, three and a half orders of lyrium, and one rune-inscripted vial from Nevarra.” He points to each item in turn, finally revealing a small vial from inside an ornate box.

“We didn’t order the vial.” Cain informs him.

“On the contrary miss, I have it in writing right here.” He brings up a document which Cain studies thoroughly. It was split into two pieces, one with the full order and another smaller paper with just the vial. At the bottom is Qurex’s signature, and a small note emphasizing using extreme caution when transporting the delicate piece of glass.

“Hm. It appears out information is outdated.” She hands the papers back to him with a nod. “We’ll bring our cart around back and load everything up. Oh, and-” She tosses the dwarf their payment. “The other half, as promised.” He gives a jubilant nod in response and begins counting. Cain looks to Nelras. “Mind bringing those up for me?” He nods and picks up the crate closest to him. “I’ll meet you in the back soon.” She makes her way back up the stairs to the caravan. A slight feel of unease pervades through her mind for the rest of the night, though why it did she could not say.

Previously: Legacy II

The Fade

Forty of us came in, now only fourteen remained. I look to my left, watching Alcouda’s breath heavily mist out from his helmet, the lyrium engraved into his armor all burnt out. To my right, Cato looking more like a corpse than an Elf.

“We’re finished.” He says quietly to me under his breath.

“We have no escape route. We’ll fight to the last.” I manage to pant out.

“No. You guys have a chance.” He leans away from me and places a hand on Ranmarque’s shoulder. “You can cut a path back out of here. I will cover your escape.” He and Ranmarque share a brief look between the themselves and Ranmarque concedes a nod.

“Sentinels!” he announces. “Form up on me! We’re falling back!”

As the others drag themselves into a loose formation at the door, I approach Cato. “We’re not leaving you.”

“You have to.” He croaks. “You’re the only hope for the Ravens now.”

“I told you I’m not-”

“Let it go, Elyria.” Alcouda puts a hand on my shoulder. I turn to him, his gaze meeting Cato’s before looking back down to me. “We have our orders.”

“But-”

“Go. Now.” Cato orders.

Alcouda tries moving me, but I resist with all my strength left. “You can’t leave us. You can’t leave me.” I beg Cato.

He gives me a soft look, the sadness in his eyes enough to bring tears to my own. “It’s simply my time Elyria. Let me go.”

“NO!” I scream, but this time Alcouda is able to lift me over his shoulder and carries me off to follow the others. “CATO!” I cry after him. We round a corner. Then two. Then just as my voice goes hoarse, I feel the explosion. The force was enough to unbalance Alcouda, and I use the chance to wrestle away from him and sprint off back to Cato.

“Elyria!” Alcouda calls behind me. But I pay no heed to him. My only thought now was to reach Cato.

As I get closer, the floor, walls, and ceiling become coated by an increasingly thicker layer of ice. Small balls of snow drift lazily in the air, the chill seeming to take away all noise and heat around me. Slowing my pace, I create a small barrier to keep the cold out, my exhaustion making even such a simple task require concentration. Rounding the final corner, I come face to face with a Crow. I gasp, about to strike but stop short. He stood still, frozen solid and unblinking.

I look past him for Cato. In the room he stood, an epicenter of this magical winter. A man completely frozen in a self made tomb. I feel myself run towards him, paying no heed to the dozens of Crow forms in mid-charge around him. I am close enough to see his face now, the air cold enough to still send shivers down my spine. “Cato.” I manage to say, the sound unable to be heard further than my lips. “I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know where to go.”

“Worthless.” A voice whispers to me. I whirl around, but only the frozen Crows are in the room with me. I look back to Cato, but find only darkness. Every direction, nothing but pure darkness. Then the voices assail me, one after another.

“Incompetent.”

“Pathetic.”

“Weak.”

“Powerless.”

“Uncertain.”

“Fragile.”

Louder and louder they grow, and soft spiteful words become a cacophony of accusations.

“You could have saved him!”

“You turned your back on him.”

“You left him to die!”

“You’ll lead all the others to their deaths, too.”

“A pathetic leader.”

“A weak leader.”

“An unworthy leader.”

“You will never live up to him-”

“QUIET!” I scream into the void. But the void does not answer. I curl up into a ball, finding solace only in my own warmth. “Just please, be quiet.” I cry softly to myself. It felt like years before I woke up.

Seventeenth Day, Fourth month of the Theodesian Calendar, Eluviesta, 9:41 Dragon, Dawn, Val Foret

“Elyyyriaa~” A voice sings to me, and my eyes fly open. Vel stands above me, a big grin peeking out from her prominent features. “I didn’t know you were such a heavy sleeper.”

“I’m not.” I pull myself up, feeling less rested than I did the night before. “I was just having some...bad dreams.”

“Welll shouldn’t have had that last mug of golden scythe last night then.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” I shake my head and urge myself to stand. A few seconds later my body complies. “Go to Richter. You’re on training duty today.”

“Is the incapable one coming too?” She asks with a raised brow.

“Ventos is going with you, yes.”

With an exaggerated sigh she begins to exit the room. “I’ll start counting how many times I have to keep him from falling on his own sword today.” She says before shutting the door with a click. A crash and a muffled “One.” follows soon after.

Mid-Morning

“Alright, final test.” I tell Elador in Common, raising my scythe with one hand.

“Fauchet.” He says steadily in Orlesian.

I raise an apple in my other hand.

“Pomme.”

I throw the apple up into the air and cut it before it lands on the table.

“Couper.”

“Very good.” I hand him half the apple, to which he eagerly takes and begins eating. “You’ll make a fancy Orlesian yet.”

“When will we start on Tevene?” Elador asks in between bites.

“That’s a little more complicated to teach, but we’ll get to that soon.”

“Good.” He nods. “I look forward to having conversations in your native tongue.”

I feel my face begin to redden, but push it back before he notices. He doesn’t mean it like that Elyria. He’s just eager to learn. Shaking the train of thought away before it continues, I stand and motion for him to follow. “We still have some spare time. Want to go see what the others are doing at the Crown?”

“Actually, I was thinking we could patrol the city.” He looks to the sky. “It’s been a long time since I have been here. I’m curious to see how it has changed.”

I concede with a mock bow. “Lead the way.”

Afternoon, South Entrance of Val Foret

Our patrol finally brings us to the gates of the southern entrance of the city. I turn to Elador, a smile still on my lips from the laugh a few moments ago. “Well I think we’ve exhausted all our routes.” I stretch and yawn, the orange light of the setting sun shining into my eyes.

“It was a lovely walk.” He assesses. “Should we head back?” He looks towards the horizon with me.

“Actually… I was thinking we could get a little training in.”

“Here?” He glances around the passerby.

“Of course not here.” I point out the gate. “We’re going into the forest.”

He just shrugs and starts walking towards the exit.

Forest outside of Val Foret

I dance my scythe in a circle in front of me. Elador eyes it with intent, his two bone daggers gripped tightly. “Ready?” I ask him with a sly smile. One nod later I cut loose.

I start with the Serpent’s Tail, swerving my scythe in front of me as lightning crackles from my hands to each end. The engravings on the weapon burn bright purple, tracing all the way up to the metal where it arcs off towards him. Within the first step of my movement Elador leaps right, letting bolt after bolt hit brush and trees while closing the distance.

I switch tactics, weaving the Tail into a Wyvern’s Claw. Each swing of my scythe becomes quick and vicious, one nearly hitting him if not for a timely roll. Now in range, he takes the chance and leaps toward me. I allow myself a slight smirk. A blast of force magic later and Elador lies flat on his back, all momentum he had previously now causing him no small amount of soreness.

“Not fair.” He groans.

“Mages won’t play fair on the battlefield, why should I hold back from knocking you on your ass?” I offer my hand, and he grasps mine firmly. As he stands, I note how unscarred his skin is. For an Elf that has fought many battles, he certainly avoids any lasting damage. As he stands he begins to tower over me with his imposing height. Then again, many things are strange about him. He gives me an affirming nod, signaling he is ready to continue. I put a little distance between us. “Alright, ready for some unarmed training?”

“Are you?” He gives me a confident smirk, a look that for the large elf becomes more of a silly wide grin. Then, with a quick breath, he leaps.

Eighteenth Day, Fourth Month of the Theodesian Calendar, 9:41 Dragon, Eluviesta, Sunset, Val Foret

...and lastly, the new members brought in have proved quite effective at their assignments, excelling in each of their roles. Update status for the south. End of Report.

I fold closed Qurex’s letter, rubbing my left shoulder to soothe the aches. Despite Richter’s healing expertise, sore muscles are sore muscles. I need a break. I think to myself, not a second too soon before I hear a knock on the door.

“Come in.” I say in an offhanded manner.

The door creaks and groans like a tree in the winter wind, heralding the man of the trees himself. My tired look brightens at his arrival, my hands quickly shuffling papers away. “Elador! This is a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the-”

“We-” He begins, cutting through social formalities as he often does to get to the point. “the Ravens here and some Sentinels- are going to a pub later.” My raised brow causes him to look anywhere but at me. “Would you like to come? To the pub, I mean. For drinking.” The words seem to flow both rapidly and haltingly at the same time.

“You don’t have to be so flustered about it.” I give him a reassuring smile and ignore the implications he could mean. “Much as I love work, I realize I need to take a break eventually.” I glance at the setting sun, it’s shape dipping almost entirely beyond the horizon. “Might as well be tonight.” I turn back to him. “When and where are we going?”

“At The Ram’s Horn. When Satina nearly crests the sky.”

“I’ll be there.” he grins and I can’t help but give him a broad smile of my own.

“I’ll be waiting.” He says with a slight bow and excuses himself. When the door clicks shut I sigh heavily. Maker, I was as nervous being asked as he was asking me I light a lamp on the desk to push back the invading darkness as the sun departs the land once again. Leader of a renowned mercenary guild, experienced warrior, deadly mage, and you still act like a child when it comes to this Elf. I chastise myself. Well, as Cato used to say, “let us see where the night takes us.” Now to find something to wear…

Night, outside The Ram’s Horne

The warmth of the tavern emanates from behind the door, pushing away the cool air of the night as I draw near. It being only a casual occasion, I elected to dress in a casual form. Cato always was over extravagant with his own wardrobe, but I will be the first to admit he had some great points. The dark grays and deep purples shine glossily from the moonlight. With a slow breath of fresh air, I enter the roaring tavern.

I am greeted with the warmth of the fires and the drunken singing of a majority of people there. Even some patrons I recognize as Sentinels were joining in the rowdy rhymes and raising their voices high. Between the drunken slurs and the off-key notes I could only make out a few words about a Giant and a Desire demon- and at that point I didn’t want to know any more.

After several minutes of crowd-pushing, I reach the group I was looking for. Elador, Velanna, Therel, and several Sentinels from the Order that I am not familiar with greet me. “Glad you could make it.” Elador said with a friendly smile. He is, as always, dressed in his usual hunting gear; albeit minus the weapons. I think.

While Richters absence was expected, Ventos’ absence piqued my curiosity. “Where is Ventos?” I ask the other Ravens. They shrug, unconcerned about the missing boy. Filing it away in my mind for a later date, I order myself a drink from the bartender.

“Let the party begin!” Velanna announces upon my return, clanking mugs with mine. Catching my eyes flash to Elador for a brief second, she leans in toward me. “Let yourself have a little fun.” With a wink she jumps back and starts flirting with a Sentinel. Maker, I don’t know what to do with her sometimes.

The time of night where the drunk and the sinister return home

Elador and I walk side by side towards the inn door, Velanna just ahead of us with the Sentinel from earlier. “And then I told him: Fuck the Blight, your moms cooking has killed more men than it ever will!” I tell Elador. His laughter booms around the street, causing a hound to begin barking in response.

“That is quite a story. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Qunari in a Dwarven dress before.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to.”

We struggle through the doorway and up the stairs until at last we arrive at our rooms. Velanna and her ‘friend’ already disappeared behind her door. I turn to Elador, idly playing with a lock of my hair. “Well, thank you for inviting me to a wonderful night out.” I give an exaggerated curtsy, almost losing my balance in the process.

“A pleasure, as always.” He gives his signature nod, his face noticeably close to mine. In a quiet part of my mind I thank the darkness of the hallway.

“Well…” I think of something to say but between my current condition and situation I just slowly begin to lean towards my door. “You have a good night!” I almost shout before flying through my door faster than a frightened Nug. I take a deep breath and shake my head before beginning to prepare for bed. Damn him and his toned physique I think to myself, finally removing the last clip of my dress and letting it’s weight fall from my shoulders. I begin to drag myself into bed but notice now the candlelight by my desk. My room feeling a lot less safe, I walk over to a single piece of paper next to the burning wax.

The paper was blank, which means it was from us. I press my thumb on it. The small amount of magic I release spreads through the lyrium writing and lights it up in a blueish hue briefly. I take a seat and begin reading.

“Captain Elyria,”

“Vital information from the Temples of minRathous. Archons have found Intelligence in Tallo’s creatures. On the subject of weeds, Ravenous appetites are abound.”

“-Kanis”

I struggle to understand the meaning of the words, but after a few minutes let it rest until morning. The world isn’t going anywhere, might as well sleep peacefully. I close my eyes at last, and dream of serpents eating the corpse of a raven.

Next: A Breach in the Heart

1st of Haring, 9:35 Dragon, Denerim Alienage

“Did you call for templars?”

Andira opened her eyes. Chianni moved quietly. But all the elves did around her. After three years she was still an outsider. Maybe not a threat, maybe even a small boon, but still aid unlooked for.

“Yes. About the disappearances.”

Silence. There were other elves with the Alienage elder. None came close. Most were comfortable enough to approach the shrine to the Maker when Andira was here on a normal day. But there were more Templars here, and Templars always brought trouble.

“Most of them are shem.”

“But enough are elves. I did not think I,” and Andira said nothing about what the alienage elves couldn’t do, “could handle the matter on my own. “

“Those started two years ago, why would your kind listen now?”

“Things change, and the Maker grants mercy.”

“Right, sure.”

“Hey, they’re coming,” one of the elves said. They scattered, and in a heartbeat, and might as well have never been.

Andira had expected templars from the Denerim chantry. Maybe one of them would be willing to listen after two years of sending letters and asking for aid.

She hadn’t expected the witch hunters. She could tell by the boots: knee high riding boots. The witch hunters, no matters where you went, had the best boots. Hobnails and druffalo hide for the garrison, Orlesian lace leather and august ram for the cavalry.

She picked out the knight captain in an instant, in his silvered armor and feathered helm. The other four, two women and two men were unknown. One of the men wasn’t wearing helmet, and she could see the grey in his beard and thinning hair. Few Templars got that old.

“You are Ser Andira Cherun?” the knight captain asked, striding up to her.

“Aye. You are, ser?”

“Knight captain Maric Harper. You’ve been sending the requests for assistance regarding he disappearances in Denerim?”

“Aye, knight captain."

“Then you have my apologies. We’re here to see your faith rewarded.”

“It started two years ago. A man disappeared on the docks. Bloody, but the guards found nothing. Happened a few days later, and this time a woman from the market district. Nothing found, guards gave up.”

Andira was unrolling her scrolls. She had a dozen. The witch hunters were looking them over. Andira’s quarters, a small shack outside the alienage gates, was now full to bursting. She’d never had guests.

“What connects them?” Tane asked, reading the scrolls.

“At first I thought nothing. Too random, and Denerim is a big city with thieves and murderers and a seedy underbelly,” Andira said, speaking fast, terrified of butchering her words with her Nevarran accent, terrified they’d never all come out, “ but there was never a body. The corpses never turned up. Not in the dock nets and not in the potter’s field. The dead never turned up.”

“What if they took the victims beyond the city walls?” Tane asked.

“I thought that too, that it was slavers again or cultist or something like that- but-"

“Cultists? You ran into cultists in Denerim?” Piedmont asked, sounding surprised but not looking up from her the notes she was taking. Andira was surprised to see another Nevarran in Ferelden, though clearly the other woman had been here longer.

“Yes, but they had no idea what they were doing. Pouring sheep’s blood on a dragon statue. Wasn’t even Tevinter. Brought them to the Chantry in fetters . Guards weren’t happy, but I stopped them before they got to the beggar they had captured.”

“You did that by yourself?” Buld asked, looking up from the scroll he was reading

“Maker’s hands, the hell are you doing in the Alienage?” Selwyn asked, pacing the room.

“Not important. What is important is that I can guarantee that the missing people never left Denerim.”

“And how would you do that?” Piedmont asked

“Because I tracked one,” Andira said, unrolling her final scroll. It was a map of Denerim, made on cheap, old vellum and splotchy ink. But it was good enough. The trail she had followed was marked in red dye she’d found in the rubbish of an abandoned clothier.

“Look here. The victim and whoever took them were at the docks, headed west through the back alleys and then just short of the westernmost edge of the Market district stop. No tracks, no more blood. It had rained while I was searching, so it destroyed everything beyond the market.”

“Where did you train?” Tane asked.

“The Monastery of the Brothers Pius of Nevarra.”

“Did they teach you to track there?”

“No. I picked it up,” and Tane stared at her for a moment, before nodding to the other Templars.

“Ser Cherun,” Harper said, finally speaking, looking up from one of her copious note scrolls, “ thank you for this.”

Andira’s heart sank. She knew what was coming next. Another dismissal. Another officer telling her to be quiet. Another, probably worse posting.

“The rest of my people will be arriving tomorrow morning. Tane, please coordinate with Ser Cherun on information for our search.”

“Aye.”

“Selwyn, Buld, please accelerate that transfer. As soon as its done, I want you to take that to Knight Lieutenant Brodric at the Chantry for his agreement.”

“Aye.”

“Piedmont, find quarters and provisions for the knights, stables and fodder for the horses.”

“Aye.”

“Ser Cherun?”

“Aye, knight captain?” Andira said, hearing the shock in her voice.

“Welcome to the ,” and he paused, face neutral, but with a flicker in his eyes, “welcome to the witch hunters.”

Milo sits alone on his cot. It’s one of many amongst the Crowns barracks. Looking down at a large pack full of his things, he just can't seem to bring himself to set off. Akinanad stands outside waiting patiently for him. It's surprising how patient the hulking mass of a qunari could be. With a huff, he rises. He feels miserable. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he was dressed in the fashion of normal man of his age. Sure his hair, nails, & skin were still conditioned to a perfect state, but this was temporary. He needed to blend in. He hated blending in.

Attaching his staff to his pack he goes to walk out the door before being stopped. Without much tact, the qunari takes Milo’s pack and adds it to his own.

“Bas, stay behind me.” and without another word he continues to walk towards the gate.

“Don't think I don't know what you're calling me. I have a name.”

“And it would be impractical for me to use it, as our goal is hide your identity. Do not question my methods and we will arrive safely without trouble.”

Taking the point, Milo calms, following close behind as asked of him. Akinanad looks back.

“Also, Bas is a common term, it is not intended to offend. You are not of the Qun. If I wanted to offend, Basra would suit you more practically.”

“Is that so…?” Milo replied, with little humor to his tone. “Pardon me for not be up on my Qunari vocabulary.”

“Qunlat. And you're forgiven.”

“Festis bei umo canavarum (You will be the death of me). . .When did you become so snippy?! I couldn't get two words out of you before? Give me my bag - this is idiotic.”

“I will be no such thing. I was hired for a task, I will perform said task and while doing so, hold this ridiculous bag of yours. Your death is not on the agenda.”

“Why am I not surprised. . . you speak Tevene?”

“Certe. (Indeed.)”

“Well that makes hiding my distaste more difficult.”

“Pavet animus labos facilius. (Makes my job a bit easier.)”

“. . .certe. . .”

“ Val Chevin?! Dell is in Orlais?! Why didn't you say something?!”

As the awkward pair enters a pub, Milo seemingly has to keep a firm hold on his tongue. *blend in, blend in, blend in - stop freaking out over all these dumb decisions - for Maker's sake Dell, you could've gone FURTHER from Tevinter - not closer to it!*

Keeping a calm expression, his eyes dart about the room. “I don't see-” 

A large hand covers his mouth before walking ahead of him, motioning for Milo to follow. *. . .really?*

Akinanad rasps lightly on the door in front of him, “Would you like a Ferelden ale with your dinner tonight messer?” *You sound ridiculous Akinanad, what are you even-*

The door opens and Milo almost bolts inside - “Dellphino!”

“Shhhh! could you wait? . . . .oh what ever. . . come her-” before Dell could finish a sentence he was almost flung backwards as an emotional Milo flings himself into his arms. 

“Whats happening? Why are you in Orlais? Why send a bloody qunari to pick me up?! Have you lost Senat?”

“Calm yourself - we simply needed to convene someplace both convient and safe. Senat is fine, and this is a safe house. & the “bloody qunari” we sent you is Senat's brother.”

“His brother?” Milo, although hesitantly, lets go of Dell and moves a pace back. “How would he even know they were siblings? Qunari dont do the family thing correct? . . .lucky bastards. . . “

“We are an exception. He is my twin.” Akinanad speaks up for the first time since arrival before sitting himself in a nearby chair.

“He is helping us keep both you & Senat safe. Trust him.” 

“hmmph. . . Any particular reason to trust another oxmen. He could be in on all of this you know?”

“Milo!” a new voice booms from the adjoining bathroom. “Would you please consider your surroundings before you open that mouth of yours? Do you seriously think we would all still be here if the likes of Akinanad wanted us dead?”

“Hello to you too Adrian. Point taken I suppose. . . regardless, what's going on?”

“Sit.” Dell motions to chair next to where Akinanad sat. With a sigh, Milo does as he's told as Dellphino lounges against the bed across from them. 

“We took in another Saarebas - “

“You WHAT?! After all the trouble it took you to free Senat you did it again?!”

“Milo please -” Adrian moves forward, addressing the mage directly, “Our research was not for the benefit of one but of many! They treat their mages like scum, and we found the cure! We cannot easily give them a new tongue, given after the ritual theirs is promptly removed, but we make them whole again Milo! They can live their lives without chains. We're making progress!”

“And you are furthering your own death wish - What of Tevinter hmm? What happened to saving the blood mages? Getting the “craft” to be seen more favorably amongst the people? Granted I thought that plight was insane as well - but at least it was for your own benefit as a researcher.”

“If my craft was more well known, Tevinter would stomp on it. Demons and blood. . .and power. They do not yet know how to address these issues without an iron fist. They cannot see the good that comes from a higher understanding of it - all they see is evil. The same goes for the qunari. I may not follow the Qun, but they have their good points. Points I wish Tevinter could see. But sadly, their treatment of mages is unacceptable. When I first met Senat, I was disgusted - but after connecting with him, learning from him, there is so much we could achieve - together. It’s time this war ended. We have no reason to fight these people - we should be helping them!”

“That’s a beautiful sentiment Adrian, but they will *kill you*! You don't reform the Qun, Akinanad - you can't possibly be going along with this?”

“My brother did not deserve his treatment. He did nothing but follow the demands of the Qun and he was punished for it. I will protect him with my life.”

“A qunari. . .with feelings other than murder & a need for control. hmmph.”

“Milo please,” Dell puts a hand out to Adrian's shoulder and lets out a long held breath. “In all honesty, this is our plight, not yours. We never intended to drag you into this, but. . .They know you know us and your pretty hard to miss.”

“Why thank you, I do try.” Milo scoffs, flipping his hair out of his face. 

“Stop - just- listen.”

“There's more. . .?” Milo leans back in his chair, placing a palm to his temple, “What else could possibly have gone wrong?”

“Your family has become involved.”

“Oh *goody*. . .” Milo rolls his eyes, “Continue. . .”

“A member of the qunari, a non qunari born ben hasrath of course, interrogated your mother. She was all too kind, giving them all sorts of information on you, thankfully, information Akinanad was able to gather for us from the inside. Your mother is going to help them. She has hired the House of Repose to dispose of you. There's a contract on your life.”

“To think I lived to see the day my Mother finally gave up on me. Beautiful.”

“Milo this is serious. They intend to kill you as some sort of bribe - they think if they were to take you out - we would surrender out of fear, or anger. Which, might of happened. I will not allow you to be hurt due to my calling in life.”

“Dell. . .Trust me - doing me in would be a favor.”

Dell rose from his seat, anger in his eyes, Adrian moves her arms around his torso in panic. Moving a hand over hers he, visibly calms before continuing.  

“I don't know which is worse. The fact that I cared about you enough to go out of my way to keep you safe, or the fact that I know you wouldn't of cared either way this went. What is the point in you dieing? What is so bad in your life that you feel the need to leave those who love you behind huh?!”

Adrian rubbed his arm lightly, her entire aurora changing from a passionate anger to concern, “Dell - stop”

“No - he needs to hear this -”

“There is no point!” Milo yells. Eyes closed yet expression focused. 

“...Milo…”

“There IS no POINT. None. Why am I even here Delphino? You're my best friend, my only friend. I had another, but sadly, in the process of protecting the pitiful defenseless folk like me - he was killed. And of course we all know what happened the one time I truly fell in love? I work so hard to save people. I became a healer, because I thought I was helping people. . . but there are others out there. Others better than me. What good do I do? As for my family - what family?! I don't want to work for the Magisterium, I clearly will never give my Mother any grandchildren, not even men give a damn about me - I dress up like some prissy female to hide the fact that as a male, I'm an insecure fraud. I pay a prostitute to love me. I'm a pitiful waste of space and I don't deserve all this trouble. Use me as collateral. If chasing me for bait and killing me off will keep them off your tail long enough to run - why in the Fade not?! I'm giving myself to you! At least that way I served some sort of higher purpose other than a leech at your side.” 

The room fell silent. At some point during his ranting, Milo began to cry. They all just stood there, listening to him sob. It’s not like Dellphino didn't know. Milo had been this way his whole life. But for it to be so blatantly spoken, when it was the farthest thing from the truth, had them all in a deafening silence. 

Milo stood, wiping his eyes. “If you refuse to accept my offer, I'm through here. I’m going home.”

“...and where would that be?”

Milo tried to ignore the pang of hurt at that sentence before continuing, “I don't know.”

Adrian chimed in as he went for the door, “At least lay low for a while - for Dellphino's sake Milo -just, do as we ask for now….please…?”

Milo picked up his pack from the floor and walked to the door in silence. Turning the knob, he looked up briefly and noticed a shadow lurking behind him. “Oh - Oh no you don't. You stay here.”

“My job is not done. Until all of this blows over, I stay with you.” Akinanad takes Milo's pack again and throws it over his shoulder.

“W-What, why?! I'll ‘lay low’ I'll be a good mage, now would you all just leave me be?!” Milo jumps at the qunaris back trying to retrieve the pack from his grasp only to fail miserably and give up. 

Akinanad places a large hand on the mages chin, raising his head up towards him and looking straight into his red puffy eyes. Milo freezes, not completely sure what was going on. The qunari lowers his head slightly and with a calm demeanor and caring expression, addresses him softly. 

“Taashath, Bas. Asit tal-eb.” 

Akinanad fingers slowly move to Milo's cheek, holding his head in place. Milo blinks a few times, moving his chin out of the qunaris surprisingly light grasp. “And what was that supposed to mean. . .?”

“I'll tell you. . . one day. I guess you'll have to let the oxmen stick around long enough to find out?”

After a beat, Milo shakes his head, “Oh like I care. . .” and with that, Milo walked out of the room. Moving down the stairs at an alarming pace, he stops in his tracks. Akinanad, who was fervently following after him stops himself from running right into the mage - before noticing why he'd stopped so abruptly. 

“. . .Orlais. . . why did he pick Orlais. . .”

Paenitet Mansion, Minrathous

Alericus sits at the far side of a long dining table. A knocking on the door alerts him. Yevriel, a frail elven woman who had served his family for the last couple of years shows the group in. a whole party. . .delightful

“Elyria Venine, on behalf of Cato Corvinus.” the woman introduces the group with a soft - yet audible voice, keeping her face down.

“Yes, Thank you Yevriel. You are excused.”

The short woman bows to Alericus, and makes her way out of the room. He stands and approaches the party, all long flowing robes and rings on each hand. His birthright, a bright green emerald pendant shines from atop his clothes. Dark auburn hair falls in waves in a long ponytail. The resemblance to his brother is uncanny. . . Alericus despises it.

“Ms. Venine, Magister Alericus of House Paenitet. I was expecting one Cato Corvinus today, is he well?”

“He has passed, I am captain of The Ravens now.” she puts simply.

“Ah - I extend my condolences. My father thought highly of him & the Ravens.” Alericus motions to the table, “Would you have a seat then, Captain of the Ravens?”

Alericus motions to another slave on duty at the far end of the room before sitting himself at the head of the long mahogany table. A long table cloth covers the center with embroidered emblems of Tevinter in the center. Glasses in front of himself and rest of the guests are filled with a pungent red wine. A spiced Tevene wine to the connoisseur.

“To business then?” he adds, giving the woman his favorite business smile.

“To business. . .So you want us to find your brother. It is my understanding that he does not have much fondness for his family.”

Alericus laughs, “Oh - if that's the truth if I haven't heard it. My family. . . wasn't. . .isn't - too adoring of his....lifestyle. To some extent, I can see why he hates us so - but myself personally have done nothing of offense. . . it’s beyond me honestly.”

He takes a long sip of wine, still holding a humored smile. “To be blunt - I already have spies with eyes on him. . . but due to personal reasons of their own - they have since decided to defy my urgency of getting him home. As of late - they have lost track of him. I myself am a busy man. Hense why I come to you. Am I correct in assuming you at least know his name? Surely he couldn't wander the south the way he does unnoticed.”

“I know him. We were both in the employ of The Order for a time. I have contacts who can find him. I take it you want us to seek him out and bring him home?”

“Correct - by any means possible - next to bringing me his head on a platter.” he laughs lightly, holding his glass to his chin. “I would quite prefer alive. I am in need of his services as soon as possible. If my Mother had her way, he'd be dead by now - perhaps with time they will both see reason, but I for see your getting him here in one piece a tasking job.”

Setting his glass down, he continues, “To my knowledge, my mother was recently approached by a Qunari liaison - smart of them to send a human as opposed to one of their bloody ox men - anyway - details - He is apparently wanted for questioning. I would like to get to him before they do - he’s enough of an embarrassment as it is. . .and he wonders why father treated him so. . . but that’s despite the point.

My mother has since joined forces per say, with the Qunari devils. You need to get him here without qunari intervention, and before my mother's men with the House of Repose find him. Does this sound doable to you? There will be coin, I can assure you.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, Alericus makes a note, but presses on.

“Alright, can you tell us everything you know about the situation?”

“He’s in deep with Qunari for one, not completely sure why - I would assume it had something to do with his friendship with the resident blood mage vigilante. The Qunari are looking for her for Maker knows what reason, and wish to ask Milo questions. . .among other things I’m sure.

As for my Mother, her hiring those Orlesians was recent, Not sure how quick they are on those things but if my spies don’t know where he is, I would assume theirs don't either. But I trust you have just the thing to find him.” He gives Elyria a wink before motioning to the slave in the back of the room again for a refill. Her hands shaking slightly she lets the bottle of wine tap against his glass, throwing a glare her way she hurries her task and moves back to her station. Alericus’s grin returns.

“I assume you are familiar with his taste in clothing, much less his. . .choice in company. He may very well be found in a brothel, his standards are quite low these days. Other then that, I don’t have much to add. Find him before someone else does.”

to be continued. . .

9:40 Dragon, Hochfer Outskirts

Thirty paces. Demon of ash and shadow wearing a women’s weeping face. The arrow takes it through the eye. It howls as it dies, gently fading on the breeze. The arrow burns with it.

I breath. Let aching muscles relax for the space of a breath. A moan from behind. I turn, breathless, drawing another arrow. Five left.

Twenty paces. Burned and fused remains of two templars, fours arms clutching bloody swords and axes. The first arrow takes it through its chest. It staggers forward on its four broken legs, moaning still. The second takes it through the gut. It collapses with the gurgle of bile and blood spilling from its twinned mouths. It is not dead, and keeps crawling towards me.

I draw. A scream to my right.

A pace. A man with no legs, eyes burning with green flame and lightning crackling from the staff fused to his back. I bring my boot down on its howling jaws, bone crunching. I bring my boot down again, and again and again until the fire dies.

A scream in my ear, breath of rotting flesh on my cheek.

No space. I spin, faster than the fear taking my heart, arrow in hand. I jam it into yielding flesh, something between blood and ice water spilling over my glove. It burns, even as I push the arrow deeper. I close my eyes, the abomination’s teeth breaking against my helmet, its tongue seeking for my eyes. I push again, and it falls away. I open my eyes.

Twenty of them all around me. Abominations of twisted flesh and shredded robes wearing the bodies of mages, men, women, children. Templars broken and burned and smashed, crawling and shambling forward, weapons coated with blood. Demons of shadow and rags, sliding forward on clouds that seem made of smoke and smell of sulfur and rot. My chest tightens, my breathing comes in desperate gasps.

Ten paces, I return a child to the Maker’s side.

At five, I grant mercy to the thing wearing my brother’s face, his jaw slack and eyes empty. I begin to weep.

I drop my long bow, the string snapping. I draw my long sword, holding it both of my shaking hands.

A clumsy blow shears the arms from an abomination. Another takes its head from its shoulder.

A demon grabs me from behind, armor shattering in its grip. I cannot turn, and I feel the sudden realization that I am about to die run through my body. I feel no peace, tears streaming down my face as I struggle uselessly against the demon holding me.

I am not even a templar yet.

A templar lieutenant comes at me from the front, his face burned to the bone, his hands claws of fused bone. I win my sword free, and stab it through his broken breastplate. It pushes itself along the blade, its body disintegrating with every step. As it dies it pulls my sword from my hands, its bones closing around my sword like a vice.

I scream. It is the sound an animal makes as it is about to die, a mouse pinned by a cat.

The thunder of hooves fill the air.

“For the Maker!”, a score of voices yell as one. An abomination bites into my right bicep, its jagged teeth tearing through chainmail, leather flesh and muscle with ease.

The abomination sags away. I open my eyes. A black fletched arrow is sticking from its skull, black rot weeping from the wound. The demon throws me to the ground, roaring. It is silenced a second later. I curl in on myself, hands covering my head, trying to keep out the world.

Silence. Peace. Then, boots on grass, maybe half a dozen people, moving quickly.

A hand on my arm, no gauntlet, warm, alive.

“Squire? Can you stand?”

I can only sob in response, shame and relief warring in my chest. I look weak, but I cannot bring myself to stand.

“Mar.”

“Gather the knights, get Dascentia and her people to the camp, take what you can. I’ll catch up.”

“Mar.”

“Tane, my eyes. Give a warning if they follow. Miranda, leave my horses.”

They move. Cart wheels squeak and rattle. A child starts to cry, and someone hushes them gently.

“Are they dead?” Another child voice high with fear, “ is that man dead?”

“Don’t look,” another voice, a woman’s, controlled and soft as a breeze, “the templars have seen to them.”

“Squire?” Mar’s voice, his hand still on my arm, “ we need to go.”

I open my eyes. He is not a demon, just a knight, his helm battered, the feather’s marking his rank torn. I cannot see his face for the light of the sun behind him blinds me to it. A knight captain.

“Who are you?” I ask, finally able to speak.

“Knight captain Maric Harper,” he says and pulls his hand away. I realize he is offering me a hand up.

I take it.

“Squire Rawls Theret."

24th of Cloudreach. Early Evening.

The forest around Val Foret sang. It was abysmal, the choir at a funeral procession. The slight ringing of the insects and birds was a blanket of noise over the city.

I woke on the floor of my office, fully clothed. A vague sense of recollection had me succumbing to my exhaustion sometime early this morning, organizing the city, dealing with Keylia after...

Maker it doesn't seem real. He's dead.

A peice of me held onto a sliver of hope that Charles had survived what blast had torn the mountains apart in Ferelden. That though guile of sheer force of will he had made it out.The reality of the situation was bleaker, I was simply preparing myself for greater disappointment. I had lost a mentor, and a friend to some cruel force of nature. A brazen attack against all Thedosians from which none stood to gain. I stood, slowly; grasping the edge of my desk for support. My eyes traced over a bottle of Wine I had delivered from Val Royeux; it was Charles' favorite vintage. The pale green bottle reflected some light back into me as I turned it over in my trembling hands, rage seethed through me as I hurled the bottle into the stone wall facing the courtyard. Vincent's footsteps echoed down the hall as he approached.

Is he running?

"Ranmarque!" His voice was muffled through the door but it was distinguishable enough to know the sound of mild panic. the latch lifted and the door swung heavily inwards; bouncing of the inside wall. "We have a problem."

A hollow laugh sprung from my lips, as I stripped off the shirt I had worn the night before, walking into my bedroom.

"Let me guess. Sensing the change of power the elves have begun rioting again?" I pulled a deep blue shirt over my head, not bothering to fix the laces that closed the collar.

"Maker damn you Ranmarque La Bosquet is fucking gone." I turned my head to face him, he looked as if he had been aged five years overnight. I fell back into my Orlesian.

"That's less than five miles from the city, How fuck could it just be gone!?! I grabbed my sword harnesses and threw them onto my shoulder making my way out the door. I tightened the strap the kept my long sword sheathed on my back, without my usual garb the straps looked skeletal, an ensemble of leather straps and steel buckles that looked incredibly out of place. Complete with the grave look in my eyes and hair that would make a beggar scoff I was quite the sight. I grabbed a passing messenger, slamming them into the stone wall of the staircase a little harder than intended.

"Find Ser O'Hara and have him send a full detachment to La Bosquet as soon as possible." The woman gave me a worried look as I turned and shoved her up the staircase. "Now damn it!" I began descending the narrow spiral stair at a near sprint.

"Your going alone?!" I crashed into the heavy oak doors and tore into the courtyard.

"I need five soldiers, capable ones. Tell them to get armed and meet me in the stables!" He nodded once and broke away as I pushed between a pair of gossiping gaurdsmen.

4-5th of Cloudreach, 9:41

Deanna sat in front of a wide eyed Gavel. Her mouth worked into scowling frown. The boy had done so well last night...there had been much in the way of murmurs. She blushed briefly as she thought about their dance. ’He did very well’ She mused, quieting her heart. Now, Gavel, or Banal’ras as she knew him, sat at her table staring blankly into a cup of wine. He had been flipping between hyperemotional to nearly comatose since the end of the dance. She wondered if the dance broke him? She shook the thought out of her head, the boy elf was stronger than that.

There had been the muttering of a name: Nesiara. Deanna figured she should put out feelers for that name but nothing had come back. He looked pale...so much so that his violet eyes seemed brighter in comparison. He had sat at that table since they got back to her safehouse. He stared at the wine cup and muttered to himself. It had been that way for hours.

“Banal’ras...you need rest” She spoke softly, reaching to the wine glass to get him to put it down. Tried anyway. He barely budged. He was as stubborn as a dwarf and a Fereldan in one. She sighed as she gave up trying. “At least let me help” She spoke softly, not a hint of playfulness or facetiousness in her voice. She knew that he was hiding things from her just as she did from him. Despite her efforts to learn about him, Banal’ras was tightlipped about his past. “Stubborn as a dwarf” She muttered, shaking her head. It was their unspoken rule and despite her attempts, she wanted to honor it. However, with him as he was, rules didn't matter. Deanna wanted Banal’ras to be as he was or at least a semblance of it.

“You....don’t have to tell me anything” She spoke carefully. Normally, such fluctuations in her voice, such fine control was easy coming. She had learned very early how to control her emotions. After all, she had been trained how to be a bard since she could stand. However, with him, that level of control that seemed like a mountain became more akin to a shifting desert. She could still do it...but with more effort than she liked. “Banal’ras...Ne nuvenin halani.” He perked up for a moment. “Ir abelas ma Banal’ras” She continued on before smiling. “Mala suledin nadas” She said finally. That had exhausted a good bit of her knowledge of the elvish language. She had spent some time in alienages and in a Dalish clan that traveled through the Exalted Plains.

“How…” He began to ask as she smiled. “First words you haven’t mumbled today” She joked as she moved next to him. “Let me help you Banal’ras” She repeated. He looked at her, worry and apprehension filled his face. Biting his lip, Banal’ras spoke softly just above a whisper. “I need help...I saw someone...last night...were there any Tevinter delegations or families at the party last night?” His mouth worked uncomfortably as though the words were unfamiliar and awkward. “Maybe, perhaps...I’ll ask around” She said rising as she went to find one of her brokers. He watched her rise and as she neared the door. “Particularly a family sigil of a snake biting its own tail” He added in, the detail of that brief sighting coming into clear view. She smiled as she nodded before heading out the door leaving Banal’ras with his winecup.

“Ir abelas...Nesiara….ir abelas...I should started for you sooner” He spoke softly into his cup...tears mixing into his wine.

Later that Evening

Deanna returned to the safehouse with a smirk on her face. Banal’ras hadn’t moved much except for refilling his wine cup. Her smile faded as she shook her head, sitting next to him. “Dearest Shadow...I have some information….there’s an attache of Tevinter here in the capital as diplomats….” She spoke softly, leaning close to him. Surprisingly, Banal’ras spoke before she could continue. His eyes were harsh. “Let’s go meet them”

Atop a building, somewhere in Val Royeaux

“That him?” Banal’ras asked wearing a jester’s mask and a tight fitting doublet. Deanna, also wearing a similar mask, nodded. They were watching an Orlesian man in Tevene colors walk through the streets. He was an odd sight but without the Templars in the Spire, he was free to walk around with his staff.

“Go get ‘em tiger” Deanna says as he runs off the roof towards their meeting point. Banal’ras nodded as he jumped down into an alleyway. Scanning the crowds in the street for his mark, Banal’ras spotted him with the staff on his back. He remembered how stupid some mages thought templars were. Who bloody else wields a quarterstaff with a giant gem on the top? He shook his head as he began to maneuver through the crowd. THis was a trick Banal’ras had picked up early on in Deanna’s teaching. Banal’ras moves through the crowd towards the mark with little difficulty. The people of this city paid him no mind...they didn’t even see him as he walked by carefully avoiding brushing shoulders. He drew close to the Tevene Orlesian and with a smirk, tapped him on the shoulder before retreating into the crowd. With a snap, the man turned his head and scanned the crowd for anyone who would have done that. Shaking his head, he continues on before Banal’ras taps his shoulder again. The man whips around again but the elf has already moved back into the crowd. Sweating a bit now, the Tevinter man grits his teeth as he ducks into an alleyway.

Following into the alley, Banal’ras moved into the alleyway with a wry smile. ’Wrong way little goat’ He mused, raising a black hood and brandishing a dagger. The man turned his head and saw Banal’ras sauntering down the alley flipping a dagger in his hand. It seemed Banal’ras moved slow, moved menacingly. In reality, the elf moved with a normal walk and with a hateful devious smile. ’Very much the wrong way little goat’ He smiled as the Tevene began a mad dash. towards the alley’s end.

Not turning his head, Banal’ras glanced up and saw Deanna waiting and ready atop a nearby building. ’End of the line’ He mused as he caught up to the man. Taking his staff, the Tevinter turned to face his pursuer. “you think you scare me?! I’m Tevinter! You will not HARM ME!!” He bellowed before readying a fireball.

’Dangerous like cornered prey’ Banal’ras thought as he saw the man winding up his spell. ’But compared to me...his fury is nothing…’ He mused, a cruel smile twisting on his lips. The elf reached into his pockets and threw two small pellets at the man. As they hit, they exploded into a noxious gas. It wasn’t poisonous though much to Banal’ras’ own displeasure but it knock him out leave him a bit stunned. At that moment, Deanna jumped down on top of him, pushing the Tevinter to the floor. Banal’ras took the opportunity to rush at the downed man and kick him in the face. The man’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell unconconscious.

Deanna smiled as she walked over to Banal’ras and hung on his arm. “Well done my dear Shadow” She cooed behind that mask. Banal’ras stayed quiet, his eyes focused on the sigil on the man’s back: the serpent eating its own tail. “Let’s go” He murmured quietly. Deanna nodded as she let go of Banal’ras’ arm and began to move towards the unconscious Tevinter. Banal’ras followed quietly and helped his partner hoist the man onto a cart to be moved to a safe place.

A Warehouse Somewhere in Val Royeaux

“I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS!!” The Tevinter roared from his chair to which he was bound. Two Templars stood at either side of him, ready to kill him the moment he cast any magic. The room they were in was bare, lit only by a set of candles. Metal clanged against the walls as a slight breeze blew threw the room.

“You don’t have to tolerate this. You simply must be...pliable” A feminine voice spoke from the shadows. It was hard for the Tevinter to pinpoint where the noise was coming from. Quietly, without even a sound, a knife appeared at the man’s throat, pressing gently into the skin. “Now...I’m going to ask you a set of questions...and you will answer them” said a voice without a hint of emotion. The Tevinter froze as he felt the knife touch his flesh. “Wha-...what are you go-” He began before a templar punched him in the stomach. “Speak when spoken to” the knight said stoically.

“Thank you Ser Knight” The voice said, removing the knife and walking around to face the man. “We’re going to have a chat….you and I.” Banal’ras smirked wryly as he spoke with an almost jovial tone. His face was a mask of emotionlessness save for the smirk. The Tevinter began to shake at the disjointedness of the elf’s face, smile and words. “You’re going to tell me all you know about a certain family...or I get to have fun” The elf spoke again, ending his statement as though he were singing. The knife he held in his hands also ended up pointing and slightly digging into the man’s throat. “So what’ll it be friend” Banal’aras continued, stressing the last word. The man bit his lip so hard blood began to pour down his ghostly pale face. “The Old Gods take you Elf” He said in a moment of stupid defiance. Banal’ras smiled a devilish smile as he shook his head and sighed. “I was so hoping you’d say that” He turned around and walked over to a fire. “Let’s start” He spoke with a cold harshness that even made the knights shiver.

Deanna sighed as she slipped out of the room. As she shut the door, screams and yelps began to sound from inside the warehouse. Banal’ras...you’ve taken well to my training She thought as she walked throughout the warehouses waiting for her student to finish his work.

The Next Morning

It was early morning when the Val Royeaux guard found a battered and bruised body outside the prison house. It was covered in burns and scars to the point of disfigurement. Hung around its neck was a plaque that read “You’re next”

Gavel sat atop a building watching the guards find the tortured Tevinter. “Well...that...was something I never want to do again” He said wearily. Deanna sat next to him with a worried expression. He had been vomiting and sobbing after the man died. This was not something he was prepared for but he had done it anyway. “I know my shadow...You did well...and I’m afraid the road you walk will lead you to do this again...and again. It becomes easier...over time.”

Gavel sighed as he leaned onto her. “I know….” He spoke softly. “But I did get something from this...Nesiara...she’s in Orlais...somewhere….and I have a trail to follow now.” His voice became stronger as he spoke. “I’ll save her…” “You will save her...my dear shadow..and I’ll help in anyway I can” Deanna replied, stroking his head.

He grit his teeth as Banal’ras spoke in his head. “And we’ll kill anyone who gets in my way.”

“Yeah...I know” Gavel replied to no one in particular.

Other Parts

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Previously: Succession

A Paenful Letter

3rd of Verimensis, 9:41 Dragon, The Forgotten Keep, Afternoon

Corvinus. Velanna Corvinus. How- I shake my head once again, the surprise having not worn off despite giving myself two days for it to sink in. I always assumed he had children but she is just- My hand tenses, gripping the wood of the chair’s armrest to the point of it creaking. Realizing that destroying my new office one piece of furniture at a time won’t help, I stop and try to relax, focusing on the papers in front of me.

Pulling up the next one, I recognize the Altus seal on it. The Paenitets. I begin reading, my assumption that it is from Milo quickly extinguished when his brother introduces himself in the opening paragraph:

“Mr. Corvinus -

I am Magister Alericus of House Paenitet, you no doubt remember my late father, Magister Cassius. I was in my youth at the time, but I remember your band being both quick & proficient, so I come to you with a bit of a proposition.

I have a problem - a problem by the name of Milo Paenitet, my Altus younger brother. I hear you have been to the Crown in Val Foret and might be familiar with his name at least. I need him brought to Tevinter - for his own protection.

My dear mother, who has decided she is quite done with his foolishness, has hired the House of Repose to dispose of him. On top of which, there is a band of qunari that are no doubt coming for him as well. He must return to Tevinter immediately - he will only be safe at my side. But. . .due to our mother, and other such family dealings - he refuses.

I wish to discuss this at length - only so much can be said in a letter. I invite you to dine with me at my estate in Minrathous, if you are so inclined. Included is coin for your trouble. I will be most pleased to speak with you.

Regards,

Magister Alericus of House Paenitet”

And a small note at the bottom, reading I have taken the liberty of placing the coin into our treasury -Verillius

I place the paper down, thinking of how to take this news. It seems little Milo isn’t in Orlais anymore. I should find out where he’s gone, and meet with his brother while I’m at it to resolve this family affair. I take the letter and head towards Qurex’s office.

Once I open the door, he stops mid-stroke on a paper in front of him to look up. “Ah, Elyria. Glad to see you. I need several reports to be read by you in the hour-” His face drops the placid smile when he realizes that I had not entered his office in a spur of foresight to sign his reports. I hand the letter to him without a word, which he reads promptly. After a minute he hands it back to me. “Are you considering it?” He asks in relation to the job offer made by the brother.

“I am. I know Milo, the good kid that he is, and want to give the new members a simple mission to start with. This seems simple enough, doesn’t it?” I wave the paper at him.

“Indeed. You’re going with them, I take it?”

“Certainly.”

“Well then you should fill out these forms before leaving.” He shifts over a stack of what looked to be twenty sheets of papers. I sigh and take it from him. “Good hunting.” he says as I walk out the door.

4th of Verimensis, The Forgotten Keep, Morning

I overlook final preparations. I had to spend all of yesterday finishing up paperwork, but thankfully now I can get out of here for awhile and do some work. The keep lay nearly empty save the servants. One of my highest priority tasks was to ensure every Raven had a contract to do before leaving. And all did. Save Elador, Ventos, and Velanna. A party I was not leaping for joy to lead. At least I have Elador, I think to myself, small consolations. Though I had distanced myself before, he seems to have welcomed back our friendship with open arms. Big lug probably didn’t even notice that I had in the first place.

“Alright let’s get moving.” I announce to the team and saddle Aedia. With a shout I’m off, the others in tow as the gates open for us.

The Witch

6th of Verimensis, 9:41 Dragon, West of Perivantium

We settle in for camp. There was no need to weather down the horses to death all the way to Minrathous. I take the time to analyze my companions while camp is being set up. Ventos struggles to set up his tent, and Elador walks over to help. He says his words softly and the boy nods in understanding at each sentence. At Elador’s instructions Ventos manages to set it up properly, something for which he smiles proudly.

“Enjoying the view?” Velanna asks, sidling up to me while I observe the two boys.

“Just seeing that the two of them are okay is all.”

“Your handsome boyfriend looks to be able to handle himself.”

I take a second to look at her with a frown. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh, good,” she gives me a sultry smile. “Then I’ll just have him all to myself.”

I give her a reprimanding look. “We’re working.”

“Never mixed work with play?”

“No.” I lie.

“You’re lying~”

“Can you be any less mature?” I ask in frustration.

“Only on tuesdays.”

I roll my eyes in frustration. “You’re just like your fa-” I stop myself short. I’m not getting into this right now.

“What was he like?” She turns to me, curiosity apparent on her face.

“He was...well, a colorful individual to say the least. But good to his subordinates, and had a kind heart.” Her face is impassive while we stand and listen to the sounds of the night. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be. I never got a chance to know him. I was raised by an old couple for all my life. Only thing I ever knew about him was that he was my father and he sent them some money every month for taking care of me. Great parenting, right?”

“You’re telling me. I had to drag him out of every brothel in a city sometimes.” I say with a slight smile. “Oh the stories I could tell. But you’re too innocent and young for that.” I say in an attempt to further break the ice between us.

“Hey!” She says with a mock pouty face. We share a laugh, walking over to the fire to share a meal with the other two. I could get used to this.

A Past full of Paen

13th of Verimensis, 9:41 Dragon, Paenitet Mansion, Evening

We arrive at the Paenitet Mansion. It looms over us with a dark foreboding atmosphere. A slave ushers us in, making most of us uncomfortable on his behalf, save Vel who looks impassive. Inside, it would be almost reminiscent of my own home if it were not for the large painting of the Paenitet family upon the walls of the foyer.

Finally, we arrive at the dining room where our host awaits. “Elyria Venine,” the slave announces, “on behalf of Cato Corvinus.”

“Yes, Thank you Yevriel. You are excused.” Alericus says dismissively. The elf gives a bow to Alericus and takes her leave. He stands and approaches our party. His long robes flow around him as if moved by an unseen wind, and the rings on each hand glisten in the lamplight. An emerald necklace shines from behind the robes. He certainly doesn’t lack pride. His resemblance to Milo, however, was almost uncanny.

“Ms. Venine, Magister Alericus Paenitet. I was expecting one Cato Corvinus today, is he well?”

“He has passed.” I inform him simply. “I am captain of The Ravens now.”

“Ah - I extend my condolences. My father thought highly of him & The Ravens.” Alericus motions to the table, “Would you have a seat then, Captain of The Ravens?”

Alericus motions to another slave at the far end of the room before sitting down at the head of a long table. An embroidered cloth covers the table with the symbol of Tevinter in the center. The ‘servants’ fill everyone’s glasses with wine. Ventos glances around in surprise at everything in view. Elador surveys the room uncomfortably, unaccustomed to such a lifestyle. Vel leans back in a cocky gesture and takes a long sip of her wine. I take a sip of mine, careful to make sure this wasn’t all a trick to drug us. Spiced Tevene wine. I’ve had better.

“To business then?” Alericus inquires.

“To business.” I agree. Let the others have their fun. “So. You want us to find your brother. It is my understanding that he does not have much fondness for his family.”

He laughs. “Oh, if that’s the truth I haven’t heard it. My family… wasn’t....isn’t - too adoring of his lifestyle. To some extent, I can see why he hates us so - but myself personally have done nothing of offense...it’s beyond me honestly.”

He takes a long sip of wine, his humor kept to himself with a wide smile. “To be blunt, I already have spies with eyes on him… but due to personal reasons of their own, they have since decided to defy my urgency of getting him home. As of late, they have lost track of him. I myself am a busy man. Hence why I come to you. Am I correct in assuming you at least know his name? Surely he couldn’t wander the south the way he does unnoticed.”

I flinch slightly at his choice of words, but press on. “I know him. We were both in the employ of The Order for a time. I have contacts who can find him.” If Qurex does his job “I take it you want us to seek him out and bring him home?”

“Correct, by any means possible, next to bringing me his head on a platter.” He laughs lightly. I stay silent. “I would quite prefer alive. I am in need of his services as soon as possible. If my Mother had her way, he’d be dead by now, perhaps with time he will see reason, but I foresee your getting him here in one piece a tasking job.” He sets his glass down. “My mother and I were recently approached by a Qunari liaison- smart of them to send a human as opposed to one of their bloody ox men, anyway, details. He is apparently wanted for questioning. I would like to get to him before they do - he’s enough of an embarrassment as it is- and he wonders why father treated him so. . . but that’s despite the point. You need to get him here without qunari intervention, and before the House of Repose find him. Does this sound doable to you? There will be coin, I can assure you.”

My eyes narrow at his manner towards his own brother, but I recover and maintain a passive face. “Alright, can you tell us everything you know about the situation?”

“He’s in deep with Qunari for one, not completely sure why - I would assume it had something to do with his friendship with the resident blood mage vigilante. The Qunari are looking for her, for Maker knows what reason, and wish to ask Milo questions. . .among other things I’m sure. As for my Mother, her hiring those Orlesians was recent. Not sure how quick they are on those things but if my spies don’t know where he is, I would assume theirs don't either. But I trust you have just the thing to find him.” He gives Elyria a wink before motioning to the slave in the back of the room again for a refill. Her hands shaking slightly, she lets the bottle of wine tap against his glass. He throws a glare her way and she hurries her task before she moves back to her station. Alericus’s grin returns.

“I assume you are familiar with his taste in clothing, much less his. . .choice in company. He may very well be found in a brothel, his standards are quite low these days. Other then that, I don’t have much to add. Find him before someone else does.”

“We’ll be happy to take you up on your offer. Thank you very much,” I stand, not wanting this dinner to go any further. “If you’ll excuse us, we have a brother of yours to find.”

“Aw, and I was just working on my third glass.” Vel protests.

“We’re going. Now.” I order. The group gets up with varying amounts of eagerness. I don’t bother to look back while leaving.

Making Friends

21st of Verimensis, 9:41 Dragon, One day away from The Ravens’ Fort, Evening

There is something to be said about a nice warm fire on a cold night I think to myself as the four of us crowd around the blaze. The night was quiet, even the insects not making a sound.

“Anyone here know melodies?” Vel asks to break the silence.

“A few.” Elador answers. He closes his eyes and begins to hum a tune. Ventos picks up on it, carrying an undertone to the song Elador is humming. A verse later, Vel joins in singing:

“Fah~ther guide us home. Show us your light, on, the dark road.

Lead~ us from the fray. All love no war ah~nother day…”

She continues singing a few more verses, Elador and Ventos keeping up a melody for her to sing on. “That’s very lovely,” I say to her once the song is done. “You have a real talent for singing.”

“Thank you,” she says with a proud smile. “I always had a love for music, but was terrible at dedicating myself to an instrument.” She punctuates her sentence with a shrug, “So I sing.”

I position myself to face all three of them at once. “Well,” I begin and sit up slightly. “I just want to say that as far as first missions go, we’re off to a great start. I think the three of you are going to do just fine.” I raise my cup. “For The Ravens.” I call out. The others raise theirs and respond in kind, clanking all of ours together ceremoniously.

We partake in small talk for a short while, occasionally letting the conversation ebb to allow the sounds of the night to resound around us, before finally settling in for camp. We still had a ways to go to reach the Keep tomorrow, so no celebrations yet. I close my eyes happy with my choice in new recruits, and thankful for the return of an old friend.

22nd of Verimansis, 9:41 Dragon, The Keep, Noon

We arrive at The Keep in good spirits from the previous night and look forward to a solid roof over our heads. “We leave tomorrow, after I talk with Qurex about where we’re going. Understood?”

“Aye!” Ventos says with gusto. Elador confirms with a simple, “Okay.” Vel drawls out with a yawn, “Sure thing boss.” All in all, not very coordinated. We’ll have to work on that if we’re to become a fighting team I think to myself while dismissing them. With purpose I dismount and stride towards the main building where Qurex works.

A quick rap on his door and I come in. “I need your report.”

“You’re not going to like it,” he says with a flat tone while looking through some documents.

“I’ve had a long journey. Just tell me what you found, Qurex.”

“Very well.” He sets aside the papers on his desk and gives me a hard gaze. “Antiva. The major city itself. Your mark sure can pick places to hide.”

“Think we can infiltrate it unnoticed by the Crows?”

“Doubtful. They’ll know you’re coming the moment you cross into their territory.”

“We need a way.”

“We can simply turn down the job,” he reinforces.

“The person we’re looking for is a friend, and the pay is good.”

“The pay doesn’t matter if we lose our newly appointed leader, both new recruits, and our newly alive member.”

“And I thought you would be happy at the thought of my passing,” I say with a ghost of a smile.

He returns with not an inch of his face moving until he speaks. He’s good at that. “I do have some sense of loyalty to my superiors. And despite our...differences. You and I have had many years to know each other. I saw you grow from a child to an adult and take on all the responsibilities thrown at you. And you proved yourself even despite the challenges I had presented. Also, finding four replacements for the lot of you would be a hassle.”

Altruistic until the end. I think to myself sarcastically. “Thanks for the kind words. What do you suggest, barring not doing the mission?”

Qurex mulls over ideas for a minute before answering. “Go eat, and relax for awhile. Then go with your group to Reiner and Steinax. They should have some new items for you. In the meantime we can both think of a plan and share our thoughts later.”

I give him an affirmative nod and take my leave. I begin my journey towards the great hall, taking pleasure in the silence that the stone walls give and the warmth from the torchlight. The Veil was (in this case thankfully) thin here and thanks to veilfire we could maintain the fires for prolonged periods of time without worrying about a shortage of wood. Of course, a thin Veil brings up other questions and concerns about such a place, but at least the light was nice.

I enter the mess, dragging up a seat next to Cain, Nelras, Therel, Elador, and Vel. Elador gives a small wave as I sit down, a warm smile on his face. I smile back and turn my attention to the former three. “How was the supply run you three?” I ask the veteran Ravens.

“Business as usual. A few merchants have gotten twitchy with the upheavals in the south and tried to jack up some prices-” Cain explains.

“We convinced them otherwise.” Therel finishes with a toothy grin.

“We even got a few shipments of raw materials for Reiner and Steinax.” Nelras adds. “They are working on a big project for all of us, I believe.”

I nod in understanding, the picture of what to expect when meeting the Twins later becoming clearer. “Have you already gotten yours?” I ask them with no small hint of curiosity.

“No, we’re waiting on them before we start our next assignment,” Therel says with a shrug before putting another mound of food in his mouth.

“My, seems like your Dwarf friends are quite busy,” Vel comments, bringing everyone’s attention towards her. “I don’t think I’ve been deep inside the castle yet to know where they are. Looking forward to it,” she says with a wink.

“So where were you raised, Velanna?” Cain asks, her interest in our new recruit raised. “I can’t quite place that Tevene accent.” Cain, having had an ear for accents all her life, this news surprised me. I keep it to myself though and listen to Vel’s reply.

“Just west of Marothius, along a small lake,” she answers. “The people who raised me were country folk so they had their own accent.”

“Ah, that explains why I didn’t pick up on it,” Cain says plainly. “Where did a farm girl learn to fight like that anyhow?”

Vel takes the sudden change of topic in stride. “Well, my father was actually a former Tevinter soldier. That’s how Cato knew him. He was happy to teach me how to handle myself in a fight. The daggers were my idea. Let’s me stay mobile.”

What an odd upbringing she must have had.. I wonder to myself, looking at the girl with the fiery hairy in interest. She finishes her plate and stands to excuse herself. “We’re to meet with the dwarves after you’re done, correct?” she asks me.

“Indeed. Do you know the way?”

“No, but Elador can show me how to get there, right?” she says with a flirtatious smile to him. He reddens slightly and looks deep into his food.

“I-I believe I remember the way.” He confirms to himself and Velanna.

“Great!” she exclaims with a grin, “Then mind coming by my room after you’re done?”

“I suppose I can.” he says with a nod, and with another grin she turns to return to her quarters.

“She lays it on thick, doesn’t she?” Nelras says after she’s gone.

“That she does,” I confirm and look to Elador. “If she makes you uncomfortable we can always talk to her about it.”

“It’s fine. I just...am not used to such forwardness on this matter.” He shakes his head. “Flirting is something living in a forest does not teach you.” His joke manages to break the concerned mood I held and I respond with a laugh.

“No it does not,” I agree, playing with the last few bites of my meal.

Evening

After finishing dinner I take a few minutes of rest in my room before heading down to the deeper sections of the Keep. With a knock on the Twin’s forge door I’m called in.

Entering the room felt like entering the furnace itself. The sweltering heat came off in waves from the forge, blurring my vision slightly. I give myself a second to adjust to the heat before looking around the room. Elador, Vel, and Ventos stand ready and waiting for me. It appears I am late to my own appointment. I think to myself. Must have rested longer than I planned.

“Our esteemed leader, here at last,” Steinax says while hammering out a plate of armor, her face a light sheen of sweat. “Reiner, you start. I need to finish bashing this ‘ere hunk of metal out.”

“Aye.” Reiner says, hopping down from a stone chair around the center table. “Alright. So first things first: Most of your armor and weapons? Shit. Pure dragon-grade shit.”

“You made my weapon.” I point out.

“Then I was given shit to work with!” he retorts and continues his speech as if there were no interruption. “Now, though, we got some proper materials for nearly a year and have been able to try a few techniques. So without further ado, I present to you your new gear!”

Reiner pulls an ash-covered cloak off the center table to reveal several new weapons and armor. “Now, most of this is for the vets that we got, but I got a few things for you newbies too. Oh, and Elador.” He explains, pulling two large daggers from the mess of steel and handing them to Elador. “These are for you. Red steel base with a Silverite sheen. They’ll cut through bone and most armor you find these days. And for the red-headed lass-” he pauses to hand her our standard gear of grenades, extra daggers, flint and steel, and potions. “The essentials. Sorry, don’t know your style yet and I don’t do leathers. But as for the new guy-!” He grabs a plate of heavy armor and slaps it into the hands of Ventos, who grunts with exertion. “Hmm- no, nevermind that’s too heavy for a twig like you.” He grabs the plate of armor with one hand and deftly places it down, leaving Ventos to catch his breath. “This one!” He presents a light armor that offers barely more protection than leathers, a bulwark shield, and a longsword exquisitely crafted. “This will suit you better. The shield will give your enemies something to shoot at while you hide behind it,” he remarks with a laugh as Ventos tries on his new gear.

“And last but not least, I have a special surprise for you Elyria.” He goes to a wall and pulls a weapon I did not notice before. A shining black staff with a scythe facing opposite ways on either end. He places it in my hands gingerly, making sure that the grime on his hands doesn’t get on it. “Steinax and I worked on it for weeks. Had to get the balance just right.” I feel the weight of it, each end perfectly balanced that I couldn’t even tell there were two scythe heads. “Yer’ gonna have to get used to the second head, but with your style it should fit well. Also,” he wipes his index finger and traces the lines inlaid into the staff. They curve and twist and meld with each other. “Lightning runes. It’ll help you channel your abilities and strengthen your attacks.”

I spend a few more seconds examining it, admiring the craftsmanship. “This is amazing Reiner. Thank you. Both of you,” I say with a grin on my face.

“Don’t mention it. Actually, do mention it. Tell all of blighted Thedas about how good we are,” he says with a cocky smile.

“I will be happy to,” I assure him and give a slight bow.

“Now get on outta here! We got work to do!” He ushers us out the forge and shuts it, the heat dissipating so fast it sends shivers down all our spines.

“And all I get are some flasks,” Velanna says with a raised brow.

“Come on,” I say with a smile. “Let’s get some rest and head out tomorrow.”

“Right then. Elador?” Vel says, adopting her flirtatious tone. “Walk me back?” He shrugs and begins walking towards their rooms. I feel a slight pang of- jealousy? Something I was not used to certainly- as they walk off. With a shake of my head I focus on returning to my room, not letting these thoughts darken a good day.

23rd of Verimensis, 9:41 Dragon, Morning

I follow the servant through the halls out into the courtyard. “The visitors are just at the gate, Captain.”

“Thank you, Cossin.” I dismiss him with a nod and close the last of the distance to the gate with a stride. My stride pauses when I begin to make out the individuals waiting for me. A battle-hardened man with scars on his face and an patch on his right eye. Alongside the man stands are a calm, slim Elf with a bow as tall as herself and what seems like scars from someone cutting out her Vallaslin. A tall but stocky boy with wavy hair next to her, and a knight covered head to toe in shining black armor, his face hidden by a heavy plate helm, and a large bastard sword planted in the ground between his hands. The knight in particular was the most jarring. Could that be- no, it couldn’t. We searched everywhere for any sign of someone fitting his description. But the resemblance was eerily similar to the description Cato had given me. Once I was near enough, I could even make out the runes etched on his armor to protect the man from magic. Similar runes were on his sword, just as Cato had described it. The information was overwhelmingly conclusive, but I couldn’t outright accuse him and I was certain that the gate guards wouldn’t let them in if they were of ill intent.

So I hail them first. “Hail, strangers. Why have you come to our humble keep?”

“Business,” the gruff man with the eyepatch replies, “in particular, yours,” he says with a nod to me.

“And what of my business?”

“We heard you were recruiting,” the female elf answers this time. Cossin had already confirmed all of this to me beforehand, but it’s better to hear it from the mercenaries themselves.

“Well then, if you would be so kind as to introduce yourselves we can have personal interviews and background checks in my offi-”

“Elyria!” A voice I recognize as Vel’s calls from behind me. She runs up and comes to a halt just next to me, spinning on her heel to turn towards my direction. “Hey! I just want you to meet my friends!” she says with a grin. Friends? I look over the foursome once again. They don’t seem all that friendly.

“You know them?” I ask to clarify, still unsure of their relationship with her.

“Oh we go way back.” She assures me, then begins to point her finger at each of them while saying their names respectively. “That’s Knight,” the knight gives the slightest nod, “Yarana,” the elf gives a small curtsy, “Maddox,” the boy gives a slight wave of his hand but says nothing, “and Charon!” The man with the eyepatch blinks singularly but shows no other signs of movement.

I turn to the knight. “Your name is Knight?”

“...Yes,” he replies, a low, cold voice emanating and echoing from the helm.

“Is that a first name or last name?”

“Both.”

“So...you’re Knight Knight?” I attempt at a joke to try and get something out of the steel wall of a man.

“Just Knight,” he deadpans.

I cough awkwardly and turn to face the group as a whole again. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you all. I’m guessing you can vouch for their combat and behavioral skills?” I ask Vel.

“Certainly. Charon is deadly with his sabers and can best almost any man in single combat. Yarana can shoot that man in half from half a kilometer, Maddox can layer enough glyphs to daze that man for years, and Knight can sit day and night in the middle of a battlefield without a scratch on him the following morning,” she explains. I can’t help but feel she is highly over exaggerating to cover her friends’ actual skills, but within the lies were the truths I was looking for. We need more frontliners anyway, and with Elador making the switch to daggers another archer will be handy. I think to myself briefly before nodding for her to go on. “As for behavioral skills; Charon is a friendly guy past the gruff exterior, Knight is the quiet type, Maddox is hilarious when drunk, and Yarana is a sarcastic ass.”

“Hey!” she exclaims her cool expression turned to a scowl, much to Vel’s amusement.

I give an affirmative nod. “Alright, I’ll take her word for it that you’re almost as good as she says you are.” I extend a hand to each of them in turn. “Welcome to the team,” I say with a smile that fades when Knight does not extend a hand in kind. I let my arm rest at my side and offer to show them the way. “I’ll show you your quarters and where we eat.”

“Food first, please. I’m starved,” Yarana implores. This is an interesting day already. I think to myself as we begin the tour.

Afternoon

The tour was cut short after Yarana made it to the great hall, piling food onto her plate and beginning to devour it all. I trust the servants to help them find their quarters and Qurex to assign them jobs, noting how Knight never took off his helmet or ate a bite the entire meal. I suspect I’ll be learning many of their quirks over time. I think to myself while saddling my horse. The four of us- Velanna, Elador, Ventos, and I- were finishing our final preparations for the long ride to Antiva. Cain wheels up in her caravan with Therel and Nelras.

“Ready?” she asks me.

“Just about,” I assure her, tightening the harness one last time before hopping onto Aedia with a leap. “Alright, let’s go.” With a shout we begin our long journey to Antiva City. Maker only knows if we’ll be making a return trip.

What Are Rialto Do?

14th of Pluitanis, 9:41 Dragon, Port of Rialto, Afternoon

Our unceremonious arrival to Antiva was heralded when the city of Rialto came into view. The captain of our ship spoke with me briefly about the procedure of undocking our horses and caravan. Our objective was to keep a low profile and not alert the Crows to our presence for as long as possible. With any luck, we can make it to Antiva City undetected. However, between us and our destination still lay kilometers to cross by land. Qurex and I had agreed that sea travel straight into Antiva City was a guaranteed way to get caught the second we landed. This wasn’t much better, but it was certainly not as bad as going through the Weyrs Wastelands, while good at covering tracks, are not ideal for traversing. Especially not when dragons and all other manners of creatures are beginning to stir.

“Wait for me here,” I instruct Cain. “I’m going to find supplies from the markets.” She gives an affirmative nod and walks over towards the caravan. “Elador! Ventos! You’re with me,” I call to them. Upon hearing their names they hurry over, Ventos ditching the shield in the caravan for the time being.

We make our way to the markets, the hum of the crowds in the busy port city almost overwhelming. Elador looks uncomfortable, bumping into people every step of the way, the crowd pressing against him.

“Need some air?” I ask him. He gives a slight nod, his eyes desperate to exit the crowded space. I turn to Ventos. “Mind resupplying us while I take care of the big guy?” I ask him.

“Not at all, Captain,” he says with a nod and a smile. I explain to him each item we are looking for. Satisfied, I lead Elador to the edges of the Market Square.

“How are you holding up?” I ask him.

“I have not been inside a city this crowded since Val Foret,” he says with his back pressed against the wall.

“Rialto is one of the largest port cities in all of Thedas,” I explain. “It’s so large that the bay we sailed through to get here was named after it.”

“I see,” he answers. I lean in, his discomfort putting me in a teasing mood.

“What, gonna throw up again?” I ask him, hinting at the several times he had done so during our long naval voyage.

He looks at me defensively. “I have never been on a boat before. I would rather not be on one after this trip.”

“Come on you big baby, we weren’t even out in the open ocean!”

“Water and I don’t agree,” he says plainly, his eyes looking at the crowd to avoid eye contact.

“Well, since Ventos is still struggling to fill out that list for us, want to grab a drink?” I offer him.

“So long as the crowds are less abundant.”

I grasp his hand with mine and drag him towards the nearest tavern. Inside it was thankfully less busy than the market outside, but was still full of life and noise. A serving girl walks up to us, a practiced smile on her face. “Welcome to the ‘Pirate’s Den’!” she says in Antivan with a thick accent. “Please follow me for your seat.”

I tug Elador to follow her, ordering a few drinks once we settle in. “So…” I begin but trail off, unsure of what to talk about.

“This Antiva is an interesting place,” Elador remarks, not noticing my hesitance and instead looking around. “Though the Crows hunt us, the common people seem very kind. I admit I know not what they say however,” he concedes. Just then a man from across the room shouts to another man at the bar, telling him his mother was a whore.

“They are certainly a colorful bunch of characters,” I say with a knowing smile. “I’m sure we’ll have…”

My voice trails off. I feel something in the air change. The pleasant atmosphere becoming menacing and setting off every alarm in my head.

Slowly I stand, Elador giving a perplexed look. “We’re leaving,” I order. His eyes dart around the room, and rest on something behind me for a brief second before returning to mine and giving a nod. He stands and as one we walk out of the tavern with our hands itching towards our weapons. Once we exit, we find ourselves back in the sea of people in the market. But the place does not feel as friendly as before. My mind jumps to the first priority.

“We need to find Ventos. Split up and meet on the street leading to the docks,” I tell Elador. He begins to move through the crowd on one side as I take the other. I begin to call out his name to the crowd. “Ventos! VENtos!!” With each shout I grow louder, concerned that something has happened to him increasing steadily. “VENTOS!!” I begin shouting at the top of my voice, shoving through the crowd. “VENTO-” my shouting is cut off when I’m abruptly rammed into by none other than Ventos himself.

“Elyria!” he exclaims, trying to prevent all the items he was currently carrying from falling over. After several seconds of precarious balancing, he rights himself and catches his breath. “What do you need captain?” he says in a very official tone. Its effectiveness is laughable when he nearly trips from bumping into a passerby and barely stopping everything falling again.

I shake my head. “We’re going back to the caravan. I have a bad feeling that we’re known.” His expression grows serious and he nods in affirmation and follows me towards the docks.

Gates of Rialto, Late Afternoon

Hastily we finished packing up the caravan and ferried it out the gates as fast as possible. The feeling of danger in my gut, however, does not ebb as the city of Rialto slowly fades over the horizon. I idly pet Aedia to comfort myself, the horse giving a soft rumble in pleasure.

Velanna draws up to me, her red hair burning bright from the afternoon sun. “Still think we’re being followed?” she says in a doubtful tone.

“I do, in fact.”

“I didn’t see anyone leave those gates after us,” she points out.

“That does not matter,” Elador interjects, awkwardly bringing his horse forward to join the conversation.

“Why not?” Velanna looks to him with a raised brow.

“Because they are ambushing us right now.” He gives a nod forward. Both Velanna and I whirl our heads to see two, then five, then more than twenty men and women appear from behind rocks, hills, and tall grass all around us. I command everyone to an immediate halt, steeling myself for the inevitable. Their leader breaks from the group and saunters over to me as we dismount.

“Well if it isn’t a flock of little lost Ravens,” he says in common, wearing a cocky smile. “To what do the people of Antiva owe the pleasure?”

“We’re only here to find a friend and bring him home.” I keep things simple, not wanting his tiny Crow brain to struggle. “We have no interest in getting involved with you today.”

“Ah, but tomorrow can always come around sooner than we like.” He wags a finger with a tsk. “What reason do we have to let you into our borders on just your word?”

“My word is all you can have. And it is as good and true as a Silverite blade.”

“Funny, considering your former commander had a word as good as nug shit,” he says with venom behind the playful insults. “I’m fairly certain he has told us at least ten times that he will stop operations that will hinder our organization, and the last time he did, he attempted to block our expansion into the south!” His hands twitch ever so closely to his weapons. Mine do the same, keeping a steady eye on the rest of his group.

“We were there for reasons entirely independent of you. We did not become involved in that until you attacked the Crown while we were based in it. We-”

“Lies!” he interrupts. “You think I am some dumb lackey who hasn’t been trained all his life to kill? Well,” he unsheathes his daggers at last, causing everyone else to do the same and arrows to be notched. “I, Benitio Merino Alvaren Ilvettico, will happily take the honor of killing you all-” One concentrated bolt of lighting from my hand later, he lay on the ground twitching. And then everything became chaos.

(To Be Continued Below)

24th of Cloudsreach, Mid Day

The cicadas called. Dozens of them, all around us, piercing the languid heat of mid-day.

“Feels like summer,” Buld said, picking at the surcoat over his armor. It, like the horses we rode and the shields we carried, was a loan from Bonaventure chevaliers. We’d borrowed helms, barbutes with visors, that had been pulled from the Bonaventure armory. Mathis had offered some of his weapons, to complete the ensemble, but I had declined. I had needed a disguise that would pass casual scrutiny.

We had left Val Foret this morning, twenty mounted chevaliers flying Bonaventure house colors. Two actual Chevaliers had gotten us out of the gates, saying that the Bonaventure’s country estates needed a reinforced garrison.

They’d split off soon after, on their own business for Mathis.

“Should be colder,” Cristau said, running a gauntleted hand down his horse’s neck, “even here, it should be colder.

We were riding down a country road, the trees hemming us in. Our pace was slow, our conversations muted.

The Conclave had been attacked. Destroyed. The rumors were as thick as rats in a slum. The Divine was dead. The mages had betrayed the Conclave’s truce and were burning everything. The Templars had declared an Exalted March and were going to sack Val Royeux. That the Qunari had allied with Tevinter and war fleets were already coming for the south. Fear was everywhere.

And we were outside Val Foret, riding to nowhere. Kara rode at my side, and she had said nothing. But I could feel her glances, the doubt.

But something was wrong. Something was wrong, and every ounce of experience told me that I needed to be out here, trying to find out what it was. We’d passed through most of Val Foret’s outlying villages and holds, and found nothing amiss.

Piedmont had said and senthe same, as had Buld, Flucs and Halfsmit. Tane had reappeared with his knights from wherever he’d been hiding, spreading the truth of the Warden’s “death”. We’d said nothing more to each other, Tane and I knowing that the fight would come when it needed it to.
My fists itched. It would come.

But something was wrong, and I needed to find it.

Tane rode down the road back to us, his horse moving fast. He had a good eye for horse flesh, and by some small miracle had found a proper Anderfels scouting horse, somewhere in the city. The poor animal had been cooped up for months, unable to be ridden by its new owners. But a few words in Anders, and it was Tane’s, as loyal as a mabari. That a templar outrider’s horse had fallen into outsider’s hands was a sign of how far our order had fallen. One more thing wrong with the world.

Tane stopped alongside me. He’d raised his visor, and I could see the look in his eyes.

“A village ahead.”

“Trouble?”

“Trouble.”

Every house was the same. Doors thrown open in a great hurry, food, tools and the detritus of daily Orlesian peasant life left scattered across the floors. Chairs were turned over, candles left burning, and pots left boiling long past edibility. I could see footprints left in the mud of the previous day’s rain, preserved by the sudden heat. But no blood, and no bodies. Not even a single bird was in the dry air above us.

The cicadas still called out, louder now, all around us

“Tane, circle the village. Everyone else, spread out, by pairs. If you find anything, call out. Stay mounted, and do not ride anywhere where you can be borne down. If you hear a retreat signal, return to the village green.” “Sir,” my knight captains said, splitting into pairs without speaking. Kara was with me. I should have said something. We rode toward the edge of town, and the true deep forest beyond. More empty houses.

“There’s no animals,” I said.

“What?”

“There should be chickens, a few pigs, perhaps some village mutts. Even oxen for carts. They would be out looking for food,” I said, gesturing with my lance at the cut traces of an ox cart.

“What do you think?”

“Something’s wrong.”

“I think your knights need more than that.”

“I’ve fought on with less.”

“Mar, not all of them are Blight veterans. You forget, but most of my people are kids who got left behind when the real heavies pulled out of Kirkwall. And most of yours aren’t even Blighties.”

“They’re knights. Their faith will see them through.”

“And faith needs to be rewarded. They can’t hold out forever.”

“They can and will.”

Kara tapped my shield with her lance, part warning, part frustration.

“They’ve accepted a lot, Mar. You’ve seen them through, and they love you for it. But truth is, you still see your veterans as your company, and the rest as garrison auxiliary.”

We rode in silence for a while, reaching the edge of the village. I could smell sulfur and ash on the air. One of the hovels on the edge of town was burned out. I scanned the ash for bones or any remains. Nothing.

“Do your knights think that?”

“Yes, though in different ways. So do some of the other survivors from Ferelden. The way things have been, it’s been easy to forget who was who until recently.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“Open up decisions. Rite of Voices.”

“I’ve never called one.”

“It’s not like there’s three hundred knights or a garrison to hear. Might be good for everyone to air grievances.”

“True I-.”

What?”

“The cicadas have stopped.”

The air was silent. The woods were quiet and still. I swore I could hear Talise humming to herself from halfway across the village.

Kara saw it first, the sickly green light emanating from the trees, between tree trunks and undergrowth. She pointed with her lance, wordlessly. I knew what it was. Every templar was trained to know what the a breach in the Veil looked like. I’d seen one, the product of a blood mage’s efforts in the Ferelden Hinterlands. That had been no more than a hands breath wide and closed with his death.

I yanked back my visor, and then went for my signal horn. We would need more knights. We would need the Order, whether I liked it or not. I pressed the horn to my lips, and sounded three long blasts. Gather and retreat. A second later Kara and I were racing back toward the village green.

The first hound, sheathed in flame and sulfur smoke charged out of the ashes of the burned house. It rose as if from nothing, a cloud of ash trailing in its wake. Its eyes glowed green with the power of the Fade, and green flames flared through the tears in its ash grey hide. The beast’s size was incredible, a twisted copy of the mabari I’d known my entire life .

I skewered it with my lance, spurring my horse on harder. The hound howled, the weight of its body pulling the lance from my hand. I kept going, the lance a loss. Our horses shrieked in terror, whatever primal fear the Maker had planted in them knowing the unnatural horror of the Fade. I drew my sword, my hammer still on my belt.

Another hound leapt into the street, turning to leap. Kara made a perfect lance strike, punching through the hound’s head . The beast fell, turning back to ash. Behind us, I could hear the baying of hounds. Ahead, the war cries of Templars and the screams of terrified horses.

We rode into the town green, the Chantry dominating one edge, and the confluence of roughly laid out dirt roads forcing their way between the hovels. My knights had regrouped, but it was chaos. Cristau, Flucs and three others had lost their horses to hounds. They were fighting back to back, shields raised and blades flashing. As I watched, Cristau drove Benton’s axe into a hound’s skull. The other templars, still mounted, were fighting to control their mounts, trying not to be thrown from their saddles.

As I watched, one was thrown from his horse, and landed badly. I knew his left arm was broken. I rode for him immediately as he pulled himself to his feet. The hounds were going for him and his horse. I ignored the poor animal’s agonized shrieking as the hounds tore into its guts, bearing it down under flaming bodies. I rode down one of the hounds, trampling it beneath my horse’s hooves. The next I hacked apart with a blow from my blade, before striking the next with a thrust. Kara was on the Templars other side, her lance cracked and forgotten, her mace flicking out at any hound who came near. The wounded knight stumbled into the Cristau’s circle, drawing his sword to defend himself.

I could not leave my knights. If they tried to run, the hounds would overrun them. If we left them to get help, they would be worn down.

“Rally, knights! If you can ride, rally to me!” I yelled, raising my sword to signal the other riders. We could fight better as one mass, rather than scattered and fighting a running battle.

Tane rode into the village green. In that moment, as the first hound died to a black fletched arrow, he made clear the months out of the saddle had not diminished his skill. The Anderfels breeds some of the best horsemen on its desolate steppes, and Tane was heir to that legacy. He guided his horse without a bridle, riding and firing as easily as one breathes. And his arrows, more often than not, found their mark. Hounds fell, heads and chests skewered. As my mounted knights rallied around me and Kara, he had killed seven and wounded three others.

I wheeled my ragged formation left, bringing us back toward Cristau’s shield circle. There were maybe a score or more hounds in the village center, maybe the same amount dead. I saw a blood stained armored body under a dead hound, and knew another of my knights was dead.

We charged, crushing a dozen hounds under the weight of horses or skewered with lances. I heard laughing behind me, Buld’s voice. I ignored it, and began to wheel the formation around for another pass.

The chantry exploded outward in a shower of stone and timber and the worm poured forth, screaming from a beaked maw large enough to swallow a man. Beetle black plates of armor ran down the length of its body, which was maybe ten meters long . What I first thought were jagged spikes running across its body were actually clawed legs, reaching out with every motion, pulling the worm across ground at a pace that should have been impossible. It had no eyes, just oversized nostrils in a ring around its maw.

I had never seen a beast like it, never. I had seen demon and abominations and malificar, but nothing before that moment had matched its horror, its size.

It reared like a snake about to strike , as if surveying the village green. It opened its maw and bellowed its voice like dying screams of a thousand dying soldiers. My horse reared, and I stayed in the saddle, every ounce of experience keeping me from being thrown to the ground. Most of the other went over in a mass of armored limbs and flailing horses.

Cristau and his knights were already running for cover, running in a wedge of raised shields for the hovels. The hounds followed, the wounded knight and Flucs fighting a desperate rear guard to keep the hounds off their fellow knights. The hovels were little better than open ground before a demon of that size. But so was armor and shields.

“Withdraw! Withdraw! I’ll hold it off!” I yelled, spurring my horse toward the demon. As I spoke, it shifted its head to look at me with its eyeless face. It opened its maw, and I could see down its gullet as a light built within, racing down its gullet. I could see rings of grinding teeth and a cluster of snatching tongues. I froze, old nightmares bubbling to the surface. That was why the fireball that the worm spat out of its maw in a hiss of burning air nearly killed me. My horse caught the brunt of it, and it fell forwards. I hit the ground hard, the burning horse corpse all around me.

I struggled to my feet. The worm lunged down, and I side stepped. It didn’t miss me completely, catching with a section of armored plate, driving me to my knees. Clawed legs slashed at me from above, each one like a spear driving a weak point in my armor. I rose and brought my sword up in a rising arc, severing four legs with the blow. The worm didn’t even make a sound, slamming its head into me. By reflex, I’d raised my shield.

It splintered, metal and wood flying through the air. My left arm went numb beneath the elbow, and I stumbled backwards. As the worm rose to strike again, the first hound hit me from the left, latching onto my vambraces. Another latched onto my right leg, fighting to pull me from my feet. Two more were bounding towards me, dodging around the worm’s bulk.

I focused and the lyrium in my blood flared. It burned me from within, just as it always did. The hounds on me tensed, and the hounds about to leap stopped dead, ears flattening.

“Watch how I burn!” I yelled, my voice filled with desperation. I forced the building fire in my chest outward, like the Maker’s wrath come from heaven itself. The hounds latched onto me exploded in a spray of ash, while the two hounds that had stopped short were tossed back like leaves. The worm recoiled, crushing one of the hounds under its bulk and stabbing legs. I channeled the disruptive power of the lyrium into my sword and flicked it through the neck of the remaining downed hound. Ash coated me as I took my long sword in both hands, the blade, my fists and armor glowing with a furious inner light.

My first blow cleaved through the worm’s armored hide like it was wheat before the scythe. Blood as thick and black as pitch sprayed across my breastplate and visor. It smelled like rotting flesh, excrement and the aftermath of a corpse fire. I gagged and kept fighting. My next blow sliced into the flesh below , hacking through muscles as taut as the iron and rotting fat. Half-digested bodies, melted flesh and splintered bone poured out of the wound. Staring eyes and clutching hands spread past my boots, the villagers’ fate now clear as the dawn. I felt disgust well up in my gut, and that disgust gave way to righteous wrath. This monster would not live.

My third blow never landed. A dozen clawed legs struck at me at once. I severed the first, brittle bone breaking under my sword’s edge. Three clanged off my plate armor, sparks flying. Four took the blade from my hands. Another plunged through the gap in my shoulder , grinding against the shoulder bone. Another punched through my chest plate, cutting away a flap of skin and flesh. Two more grabbed my right leg and pulled me from my feet. I was lifted into the air, struggling, reaching for my hammer. The worm was moving, fast, its hundreds of legs scuttling fast. I could hear my knights screaming.

I was tossed in the air, like a doll. The pain of the clawed legs pulling from my body was whitre hot agony, blood filling the air around me. For a moment I was weightless, in agony. The next, caught in a net of bladed limbs. One cut a gap in my helmet and dented my visor. Another sliced into my surcoat and templar robes, searching for flesh. I flailed with my hammer, finding nothing.

I was tossed into the air again, above the worm, above its flailing maw. It must have lasted less than a breath, a heartbeat, but I can remember so much with perfect clarity. Mu knights, not retreating as I’d ordered, but attacking the worm, blades gleaming. Kara was leading them, the Damnnation now unsheathed and blazing. The hounds circled around their master, attacking my knights as they struggled to get close. Tane still had his horse, loosing black fletched arrows into any target that presented itself. The worm was below me, maw open wide, howling. I saw it again, the beaked maw, the grinding rings of teeth and cluster of writhing tongues. But as the beast screamed , I could see down the demon’s gullet . The dead villagers were there, still alive, flesh melting from bones held together by demonic will. They were reaching for me, pleading, begging for me to join them in their torment.

The sheer horror of the death below me focused me as I fell toward the howling maw of the worm. I channeled my will into my hammer, the lyrium burning like molten iron beneath my skin. I brought my hammer down in a crushing blow on the worm’s beak. The bone shattered like glass, the lyrium fire spreading through the bone and into the worm’s flesh. The worm recoiled, and instead of swallowing me whole, I fell to side. I grabbed for purchase in one of the nostrils, flesh like a sponge. The legs grabbed me, pulling me free with a chunk of flesh in my hand. I was thrown free of the worm, and at the ground.

I was saved by a dead horse. Instead of breaking my back on the hard ground of the village green, the flesh and bone cushioned my landing enough to make me black out from the sudden blinding pain. I’m not sure how long I was out, maybe a few seconds, maybe a minute.

I woke with a hound with its jaws on my helmet, the metal buckling and heating under the demon’s internal flame. I smacked my hammer against its skull three times before it died. It collapsed on me, jaws still locked around my face. Ash from its disintegrating corpse fell though my visor. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. With my free hand, I pulled my helmet away, coughing ash from my dry mouth.

The worm reared above me, my knights surrounding it. Kara was leading the assault, every thrust of the Damnation lighting more flames in the worm’s flesh. Buld was at her side, along with Flucs and a few other templars. A clawed leg flicked out, decapitating Flucs in a single motion. Another templar was sucked under its bulk and crushed without a sound.

I tried to rise. I couldn’t. My armor might as well have been the Maker’s finger pushing down on me, holding me in place. I could barely breathe. A horse jumped over me. I couldn’t tell who the rider was, only that they had a lance lowered at the worm. The strike was perfect, driving between plates, and the worm screamed in rage. The templar rode off, the lance stuck in the worm’s side, turning the horse sharply away from the melee.

I blacked out again. I lost more time, maybe five minutes

I woke to the worm falling, howling at the clear blue sky. Its head, battered and burning, fell less than an arms breadth from me. Even as it lay dying, it chewed madly at the air, legs flailing in a spastic rhythm. I could hear my templars hacking into it, sword and axes and maces driving the unholy life from the demon. The worm’s blood pooled around it, pouring from its wounds in a slow moving river. It was just as viscous as before, nudging against my boots. Its victims flowed from its mouth, now truly dead and free.

Buld saw me first, axes and arms covered in a thick layer of gore. He stared at me for a moment, trying to ascertain if I was alive. I could see his shoulder sink.

“I… could use a hand… old …,” I croaked out, the pain robbing me of the strength to speak more.

“Knight lieutenant! The captain’s still alive!”

Buld rushed over, holstering his axes and offering me a hand. I took it, though the wound to my left shoulder had left my left arm useless. Buld took my hand in both of his and pulled. I gasped I pain and fell backwards before I could even rise more than a hands breath off the ground. I blinked. Kara was standing over me. I blinked again. Piedmont and Cristau. They were all wounded and spattered in gore and ash.

“Can he stand?” Kara asked.

“I’m… still here,” I said, and blinked. Arms were around me, bracing and supporting me. Someone had pulled my pauldrons and breast plate away.
“One, two ,three,” Kara said, quickly, and my knights lifted me off the ground. I bit back a scream. Bones shifted , joints twisted and I blacked out again. The worm was already breaking down, flesh and bone unraveling now that there was no will to hold it together. The blood kept slowly spreading.

“More demons! Bleeding wraiths from the woods!” Talise

“How many?” Piedmont

“At least a dozen!” Talise again, voice surprisingly free of fear.

“We’ve done all we can. We’re withdrawing!” Kara taking charge

“What about the dead?” Cristau.

“Maker forgive us, but we’ll return for them.” Kara

I was hanging between two of my knights. I stood as much as I could, taking a little weight off the knights holding me. My mind was clear on one thing.

“Kara!”

“Mar?” and she was by my side a moment later. She pressed a potion against my lips. It tasted of elfroot and embrium. I choked it down, and the pain in my chest and back lessened.

“You need… you need to send a rider to Val Foret. They need to know… about the rift… need all of our knights and any they have in the Order.”

“I’m not leaving,” Tane said, bow with an arrow knocked. The knight with the brokem arm was on Tane’s horse. The knight's name was Clamet. From Ferelden. Not one of my veterans, but he’d seen Hochfer first hand. The only other mounted knight was Talise.

They made the right choice. I couldn’t ride, even if I was tied into the saddle, and the pain would kill me riding over rough roads.

“You two, go, now!”

“Knight lieutenant?” Clamet asked, unsure.

“We’ll make our way back to the Imperial Highway. Have fresh mounts and a healer ready when we arrive!”

They rode off, bolts of green fire arcing out after them. They were gone before a single flame could touch them. Bolts started to rain down around us now, scorching the hovels behind us.

“Tane!”

“Knight lieutenant?”

“Lead the way!”

We ran, most of us. I was still being carried, trying to walk. I blacked out again when we reached the tree line.

Part 5

Part 7

Ranmarque's POV

23rd of Cloudreach

I had woken up from the oddest of dreams. I was a painter, living with Tara and Leah at some big old mansion. The picture that I had painted in the picture was of a dying soldier. His back was up against a barren tree, a large pool of blood was underneath him and pooled in front of his feet. Their sword was planted into the dirt beside him. By his hand, was a white flower, untouched by the blood.

I shook the dream from my head and continued about my day.

I had planned to meet Ranmarque near the center of town. He of course, also told me to dress nicely for the meeting. Ferelden fashion was more about practicality than making a fashion statement. Of course, they don’t have much to work with when dealing with me. Scars detract from that too much.

Tara and Leah both oversaw my dressing. They told me to ditch the wolf pelt in favor of a black bear fur coat, with a dark brown velvet tunic with silver linings. Large beads adorned around my neck with black pants finishing it off. The tunic was a bit smaller then I liked, revealing my bare chest a bit. Though that was partially covered by the beads. I was clean shaven, hair cut short. I felt refreshed. And they both seemed happy.

“Beautiful evening, isn’t it?” I heard Ranmarque say as I approached him.

“Yes… And hopefully more to come.” I answered, adjusting the beads around my neck.

“It should be a pleasant summer.” He said, taking note of my much finer clothing.

"You look good, thank you for humoring the Orlesian demands for high fashion." The Orlesian motioned over to a nearby bench. "I trust your meeting with the Lieutenant-Commander was fruitful? Francois is a brilliant man of a different caliber than most." He said as he slowly eased himself onto the bench.

I took a seat beside Ranmarque, looking down the street. “Oh yes.” I said smiling, “When the defense plans are put into fruition, this place will be much easier to patrol, defend and travel through. Charles might not like the amount of gold it’ll cost though…” I mused. “And well, not often do I wear such nice clothing. Well…” I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, “As nice as Ferelden fashion allows.”

"It will do just fine. And the cost should be shouldered partially by the bankers guild here in the city. Good money in a safe city. The shippers and major traders will also be offering coin by the end of the night." Ranmarque placed both of his hands on his knees. "A burning countryside and sacked city isn't profitable for anyone. At an estimate, could you say?”

“For properly defending the city? Gold cost is hard to say, I’m not much of a numbers man.” I paused, going over the possible deaths that could happen within the city. “As for the city… In it’s current state, we can’t defend Val Foret without being eradicated in the process. Unless we were to whole up in The Crown, but then we have a siege on our hands. That’s something we’ll need to try to avoid if at all possible.”

I leaned back in the bench. “After these plans go into motion? Well, a lot less people. Maybe only a quarter of the city's population? Hard to say. Ultimately depends on who we’re fighting.” I answered, feeling satisfied with my work.

Ranmarque nodded silently. "It is what has to be done, I won't see my family killed off by Gaspards men, or strung up by the Empress's." The man glanced west. “How long would it take to implement these ideas? To make them concrete?” He said. No doubt he wants to know. Hopefully he likes my answer though...

“Honestly? Much longer than I would like. If construction started at this moment and went on at full capacity… Maybe a year and a half or more.” For a moment, I grinded my teeth. Dammit, Tara wanted me to stop. I bit my lower lip. “Something tells me when Gaspard or Celene comes knocking on our doorstep, we won’t be ready.”

The man beside me slid his hands down his neck, a sign of nervousness or concern. I couldn’t tell. “What does that entail? Wall renovations? Anti-siege measures?”

“Walls are to be reinforced, towers are to be erected along the walls of the town now. The gates will be fortified to be sturdier. As well, The Crown will have some digging done. A tunnel system to allow us to send troops underneath and past the walls to flank the enemy. It’ll be a one way ticket unfortunately.” I paused to recall any other changes to the town. “Some minor things as well, the town's own guard are getting better gear to match the quality of our own. Some repairs throughout the town as well.” I nodded as that should have been it.

“Sounds comprehensive, good.” Well I hope that’s all it was. We talked it over for hours.

I noticed the bells chime. “Sounds like it’s time to begin getting on our way.” Ranmarque said, saddling onto a chestnut horse. A smirk flashed across his face. These are probably some sort of fancy horses. He pointed to another chestnut horse nearby. “That one’s yours, she is an easy ride. Just follow me and we should make it on time.” Ranmarque spurred his horse forward and began to make his way out of the square.

I quickly hopped on the one he directed to me earlier and caught up with him. “I had a friend that would attend functions like these.” I said, slowing my horse down to keep pace with his.

“An Orlesian? Would I know him?” The horses trotted along through the city. It was an oddly calming experience. Not too many people were out and about tonight. Not on your life Ranmarque.

“No, Free Marcher. He was a noble. Was, died a long time ago.” I said solemnly.

“I’m very sorry.” Ranmarque says softly. And he would be here in my place. We passed underneath some lights, the shadows playing tricks on my mind. Dead friends and loved ones seemed to phase in and out. “Have you noticed the strangeness of the mages as of late? Some seem quite uneasy throughout the Crown.”

I chewed on the question for a bit. I never quite focused on the mages in the Crown, despite instructing the veterans to keep an eye on them. “That Conclave might be making them nervous. They’ve had freedom for far too long, and now worry about being shipped back into Circles or worse. Or perhaps it’s those Templar Errants… Or even…” I shook the thought of Casimir coming back.

We kept riding on in silence. And if all goes well, we won’t be arguing on the way back to the Crown either. “I have someone coming to replace me.” I blurted out.

“I am sorry.” He said, confusion laced his voice. Though, truth be told I think he was a bit sad at my planned retirement. To settle down in Amaranthine, live with Tara and Leah. "Charles and myself would like to offer you refuge here in the city, or any lands in the surrounding area, for your services. We would also broker land for you with the Ferelden Crown if you wish."

I shook my head. “I appreciate it, but all I want to do is take up my families land for them. Just to live quietly with Tara and Leah. I can’t keep fighting, Ranmarque. Sooner or later, I’ll die. It won’t be in battle. I’ll just… fall apart. The mage I brought with me, Alessia says it so. And while Abbey doesn’t want to admit it, she knows as well. It’s better this way.” I gripped the reins of my horse tightly. “My replacement will be here in two weeks time. Treat them well.”

“I’ll do my best.” Was all he said. If you don’t, he’ll humiliate you. “I am truly sorry to see you go.” He tried to smile, yet it did not seem genuine. “Perhaps tomorrow we train. It’s been… a long time.”

“Perhaps.” I said. I chuckled to myself. “I think I might be the only Ferelden at this meeting. The old animosity between the two nations still lingers.”

"If I waltzed into a landsmeet, and told your people how to defend their homes, would they be happy?" He laughed out loud, enough for a couple townsfolk to turn their heads towards us for a moment.

"These fools are harmless, anyone with intelligence or enough clout to be considered anyone is in the Frostbacks. Poor bastards are probably being blown apart by the wind." The wind, the snow, the Mabari.

I let out a hearty laugh. “Too bad Loghain is dead. I would have love to hear him prance around going ‘I told you guys the Orlesians were coming back!’” I snickered, “Him and Gaspard are very much alike.”

"I suspect more than either of them would wish to admit.” Ranmarque cursed in Orlesian and spat at the ground. I couldn’t make out what he said, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. "I suppose the power hungry are not all that different in Ferelden than they are here." He paused as we passed by a waving shopkeeper. "Tell me, what do you know of this situation with the Empress and Gaspard De Chalons?"

“What I know of this situation? Gaspard wants Ferelden, stuck in the conquering ways. My understanding is that he’s quite upset that the Empress isn’t trying to do so. Amongst other things. The Empress is merely defending her claim to the throne.” I scratched my head. “That’s all I know. I’m more concerned with this batch of recruits however…” Most of the townsfolk waved at Ranmarque, and for me they glared. The monster that I am.

“The less, the better.” He turned to face me as we passed through the gates that led into the royal district. “We need a consolidated house. Do not bring up either Gaspard or Celene. Under any circumstances, if they get out of hand call me up and I’ll, defuse.” He was cut off from the horse jumping a small curb. “... the best I can.”

I nodded. “Of course.” I anticipated the curb that Ranmarque’s horse had jumped onto. Leave the Orlesian political affairs to the Orlesian. Easier said than done.

We rounded another corner to the assembly house. A massive marble building with a bronzed statue of Andraste overlooking a armored knight. Archaic and stately. Ranmarque hopped off his horse before me and strode towards the massive doors.

"Great leaders of Orlais have changed history in these halls." A coy smile crosses his lips. "I don't imagine they will be thinking of us when the next man says that."

I chuckled. “No, I don’t think they will be.” I hopped off my horse, caught up to Ranamarque and stood to his right. I looked up to the statue of Andraste. “Was she ever real?” I asked, turning to face the Orlesian.

“Andraste? Yes. History is fairly indicative of her existence.” He opened a door and beckoned me inside. It was quiet. “Whether or not so was married to the Maker? That's a question for another man, I've fucked more lay sisters than I've ever prayed with.” The man threw a finger to his mouth and smiled. You motherfucker.

“That of course is a strict secret.” The door to the hallway we were passing through bolted open; a wave of voices followed. A woman stood in the hallway. Ranmarque planted a kiss, and introduced me to her.

I outstretched a hand to the woman, whom I now know as Keylia, the one Ranmarque was smitten with. “Cadwgan O’Hara, commander of the Sentinels of Orlais, master-at-arms at The Crown of Val Foret.” I wonder if she knows about… No….

Keylia curtsied me.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you messeree O’Hara. I've heard much of your martial prowess from Ranmarque; he is impressed by few men, and exceptionally fewer does he regularly tell me about.” I’m sure you have.

I give Ranmarque a sidelong glance, and smile to Keylia. “Hopefully, you’ll never have to see my prowess, though I assure you, Ranmarque is the better fighter between the two of us.” I pat him hard on the back.

“I may not hope for such a thing, though I cannot deny it would be interesting to see you in action sir O’Hara. From a strictly scientific cause of course.” She glanced over her shoulder. “We should begin making our way towards the main chamber. Too many many fools with too much power left alone can be...disastrous.” Ranmarque took a stride towards her, taking a spot to her side.

“You changed your dress, what was wrong with the Lavender? This looks fine but…” Oh look, talk of fashion.

“A madame told me it called too much attention to myself from the stands, or some such nonsense.” She sighed. “Whilst any of these old generals can wear whatever they please too, I am bound to the whims of some decrepit old crone.” Thankfully I never had to deal with that. Just... Two women feeling me up.... For... measurements... I continued to listen in on their conversation.

“Such is life. I for one thought you called for a mere fraction of the attention you deserve.” The man seemed to have winced. “Maker that was bad. What I'm saying is that you look gorgeous.” We entered a small antechamber outside the main Rotunda of the assembly house. Ranmarque began to fix his mask onto his face.

“You’re right. That was bad.” She kissed the silverite cheek. “Have fun playing politics, I have to attend to an old woman and several glasses of tea.”

“Let me give you a quick run through of what we're going to see.” He made a final adjustment to his mask. “First we will have several speakers bringing topics to our attention, of which we can do nothing on because we don't actually rule the city. Then you will present your plan to the assembly. It will be torn down and apart by the nobility. Do not worry about them. Focus your attention on the Bankers, and protecting commerce and trade alongside the city. Those are the ears we need to listen, and these minor nobles will be posturing in Charles’ absence. After your plan is finished we will take a short rest and resume afterwards. You can then head back to the Crown if you wish.”

I grunted. “I have no problem with nobles tearing apart my plan. They, however, might not listen to A…” My teeth clenched, trying to think of the insult that Orlesians used on Fereldens. “Dog.” I finally said. With my arms crossed against my bare chest, I presented myself as a formidable figure.

“The a coin in the hands of an Orlesian is just as valid as one in the hands of a Ferelden. Trust me, they would listen to a Darkspawn if it had a decent plan to make them money.” He placed a firm hand on my shoulder.

“It will work. Trust me.” The Orlesian opened the doors to the massive rotunda and led me in.

A sigh of defeat had left me, and I followed the man into the massive round chamber. Expensive pieces of artwork, masks, dresses and the like met my eyes. I feel quite under dressed now.

I noted a Chevalier in the room. Silver armor glistening with a large feather helmet of sorts as the indicator. Rickard would have loved to put him in his place. ‘Elf killing bastards’ I think is what he called them.

“Well, I’m ready when you are.” I mumbled quietly to Ranmarque.

Ranmarque motioned me to a seat, and poured himself a glass of water while he sat.

“And now we wait…”

The next proceedings were a bore. Taxing, goods being traded and general complaints that led to bickering. After nearly dozing off, I was called to the stand. I walked up slowly, going over a couple small details in my head. As I took my position on the stand, Ranmarque gave me a reaffirming nod from his seat.

I inhaled deeply and looked at the ground. It took me a moment to realize no one, save for the Chevalier and Ranmarque had any sort of combat experience. This will be painful.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and started. “Well I can already tell none of you, save for two in the crowd, have ever picked up a sword. I could change that…”Letting it sink in, I smiled. “But I won’t. Some of you look like you’ve drank a bit too much over your lifetime, and others are far too old to pick up a sword.” A gentle wave of noise rolled through the crowd, questioning murmurs and quiet outcries were quickly silenced.

“To begin, some general maintenance is required. Starting with the aging town roads, as well as the roads leading out of the town to a degree. This should speed up all trade in and out of Val Foret.” I rubbed the back of neck. Alright, that’s one… “The town’s gates shall be replaced. In their current state, half starved halla could tear down the main gate. Once it’s reinforced, it should be able to withstand a constant barrage of modern siege equipment.” I stopped to see if anyone would pipe up with their non-existent wisdom.

A man stood up quite abruptly and began to yell at me.

“Our walls are the finest in the empire!” The crowd seemed to groan. A couple nobles in the front row whispered to each other, and shook their heads. Another noble in a row behind the yelling man shook her head.

I let out a long sigh. “If I wanted to, I could tear down these walls myself. Speaking of, the walls shall be rebuilt and reinforced where applicable. As well, I’m adding a ring of towers that will go along the wall. These are to better call out approaching threats to the town, as well as anyone whom might be in need of some assistance. Such as the lucrative wagons that our merchants in town, miss out due to highwaymen.” I raised a hand to continue.

Ranmarque stood and cut off the noble before he could continue.

“Thomas. Sit. Please.” Ranmarque gave me a brief nod for me to continue.

Blinking hard a couple times to remember where I was, I continued. “As well, I propose we build a tunnel underneath the Chantry, as a means to escape Val Foret if a siege looks to be a loss, or perhaps a fire that rages uncontrollably. There are some other minor things, such as funding for better equipment for the Sentinels, the construction of a guard post for the merchant district, thus increasing patrols there. We will also construct another guard post near the noble district as well. The town’s own guard will also need better equipment as well. That is my proposal. Any questions?” I asked, taking in a deep breath before being picked apart.

Everything was quiet, and as if a fire went wild, the crowd of nobles began to yell and jeer. It wasn’t something unexpected. I was about to yell back at them, but Ranmarque pulled me back, and he took to the podium. No wonder Orlais is in such disarray. If this is how they react to disliking something, I can’t imagine talks about who to support go.

“In the name of Andraste I will have ORDER!” Ranmarque voices echoed throughout the room, and the room quieted down quickly. So they respect him, but not the man that could break them in two?

“Madames and Messerees...” The presiding official began to introduce Ranmarque by name and full title; he shooed him away.

“You all know who I am. I have served this city for almost my entire life; here and abroad. I only wish to guarantee the safety of my home; as does the Man standing behind me.” A woman stood several rows from the front row seats.

“He is not of this country! He cares not for this city!” I couldn’t tell why Ranmarque bowed, whether out of respect or merely answering her.

“Countess, he has taken a solemn oath to defend this land and the people of it. Do you care any less for this country because your mother hails from Ostwick? Do I, because of my birth in the plains of the Anderfels?” Silence dominated the room for the first time since we had began. “Any man who questions my motives or loyalties may come and test their honor against mine, blade against blade.” None stood to take the challenge. “This man's word should be taken as my own, the word of the Sentinels that watch over our city in times of peace, and more importantly in times of war. The Dales may seem ages away in this moment. But I assure you that the fury of War will come to our gates, and now I ask you; shall we be led to the torch as a lamb is to slaughter? Or should we be prepared to meet them blade for blade, and shield to shield?” Several silent nods fell through the crowd, equally met with stern gazes of contempt. “Now I ask you to behave as you birth would have you, as ladies and lords of Orlais; act as you would in the presence of the ruler of this city and do away with this disgraceful banter.” Ranmarque bowed to the audience and went away, stopping by my ear as he went by.

“Remember in war you do not need to slay them all, just most.”

I nodded slowly as Ranmarque walked by. I was… for the first time, grateful for his help. I am but a mere pup amongst lions here in this room. “With war in it’s current state, I would be putting your funds to use right away. If Celene, Gaspard, or their fucking jester comes knocking on our doors here, I want to be ready. That is all.” I exhaled long and walked off the stand. Oddly, I felt drained. This was its own battle, and I fear that I had lost the battle. I got to the door and placed a hand on it. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see some of the nobles whispering to each other, others kept looking straight ahead. Anger boiled within me. Before I did something I would regret, I left the rotunda.

Much to my own surprise, Red was standing in full armor with his arms across his chest.

“I was wondering when you were coming out. Almost sent the girls in for you.” No doubt, he was grinning underneath his helmet.

“This is why I left all the… broader details to Rickard.” I smirked, “Or rather, let him deal with any nobles. Man had the patience to deal with that shit.” I walked past Rickard, and found a seat to await Ranmarque. “So tell me, how did you get in?”

Red seemed to take deliberate steps towards me, “Truthfully? Told them I was your second-in-command. At first, that wasn’t good enough. So I made up an excuse, that I needed to pass on a message from the Spymaster, your eyes only. Then the guards let me through.” He shrugged.

“Make sure you’re wearing that outfit tonight. Tara and Leah have something planned for you.” Before I could ask what Red meant by that, he left. Bastard.

“Well, it certainly could have gone worse.” Ranmarque said. “I think I have the support to get it done. Hopefully between Françios and Keylia we will muster the coin by the time Charles has returned from the Conclave.” He headed towards the patio door. “You mind if we move out of doors for a moment? I long to feel the breeze.”

“Yeah. Get out of the stink of Orlesians.” I smirked as I took a spot to Ranmarque’s right.

“I smell like primroses you swine.” He jested as he removed his mask, letting the breeze touch his face. Orlesians and their masks.

“Maker, any longer and I may have slit my own throat. Listening to a gagg-” A sudden rapping on the glass caught my attention. Ranmarque made his way to the door and opened it. A exhausted messenger stood at the door.

“Messeree Lobrandt, I have urgent news.” The Orlesian made his way to the Bannister, which overlooked the city. Must be quite the view, of ‘his’ city.

“If urgent news is regarding an insult between the aristocracy I will throw you over the edge into the fountain.” A look of concern briefly flashed across his face.

“No Messeree. It's about the Conclave.” Ranmarque turned and stared at the messenger.

“Oh Maker good news, did the end the war?” The man's gaze dropped down to the floor.

“No Messeree. The Conclave was destroyed, None have survived.” I shuffled my feet around. Shit. “We believe that Charles and the rest of the representatives are dead.” Oh shit.

I looked at Ranmarque, I could only guess what was racing through his mind. “Means this war isn’t over.” I said. “Best to leave us messenger.” I ordered. The man nodded and left. I placed a hand on the Orlesian’s shoulder. “It’s only a chance he’s dead. The Frostbacks aren’t an easy traverse.” I inhaled heavily and looked toward the city.

“Anything is possible.” Ranmaruqe turned back around to look over the city. “Maker. Who gains from this. The divine, the Mages, the Templars all dead.” A deep breath exited his mouth as he turned back to me.

“Go back to the Crown, we are high alert. I will notify the nobility here.” As he left, he kept the door open for me. “May Andraste watch over us all, if she is still watching.”

I nodded and left Ranmarque to his own devices.

I ran to my horse, hopped on it and commanded the horse to sprint back to the Crown. Soon as I bursted through the gates of the Crown, I ran to one of the guards.

“Commander, something wrong?” He asked. No, nothing is fucking wrong.

“The Conclave was destroyed. Have all the Sentinels on high alert. Be ready for anything.” I ordered. Before the man could ask what happened, I cemented my order. “NOW!” He ran off.

So much for tonight.

Tara and Leah appeared as I stood in the courtyard. “What’s the matter Cad? Meeting didn’t go well? Red said tha-” I raised a hand to cut off Tara, Leah walking beside her.

“No, not the meeting. The Conclave has been destroyed. The Crown, will now be on high alert. I think we’ll need to cancel on tonight.” I took the two of their hands and kissed them lightly on their foreheads. “Another night.” I kept my voice soft, watching just above their heads as Sentinels began to ready themselves.

There’s a war coming. But I won’t see the end of it.

23rd of Cloudreach

She laughed and smashed her face into the goose feather pillow, rolling from side to side smiling. I almost spit a mouthful of wine out taking several seconds to regain my composure.

"You did what to him? The bastard doesn't even let his man that close to him!" She stole a glance at the glass in my hand, I muttered under my breath; begrudgingly handing it over to her.

"I just kept his guard down until the last moment I needed to, simple Ran, truly. I'd think you, the feared Ranmarque Lobrandt, the hand of Val Foret, The Chevalier Hunter, the ghost killer..."

"Ghost killer? That one is new." Keylia took a sip of wine, a lock of hair slipping down to the edge of the glass. My hand placed it back almost subconsciously.

"Marlowes son. Handsome little demon that he was." A smirk flashed across my lips, but for a moment.

"Before? Or do you mean after I maimed and beheaded him?" Keylia turned to grab a handful of grapes from the silver tray at the edge of the bed. A little more than a smirk crossed my face, it felt like ages since I had smiled like this. Since I had been happy, the web of shit I trudged my way through daily didn't allow for true smiles. I did the act, mostly to keep everyone's guard down.

"Any man of that family would look better with their head cut from their shoulders."

"And people of the court call me vindictive Keylia..."

She pushed my hands underneath the sheets, sliding them down her stomach until I felt it. The scar was smaller now; shrinking with age. Surprisingly well considering the bastard took the time to twist the blade before I cut him apart.

"You think you are the only one who hates him for what he did?" I felt her fingers running through a deep scar on my left shoulder. "What he made you do, what you had to do to come back to me. All those people Ran."

"Keylia..."

"The Comtess, the Dukes son." The blue in her eyes felt like ice as she stared at me.

"Stop. Please." She swallowed a mouthful of air. "I've never forgiven myself for what I did. Maker, the boy wasn't even ten." I knocked the glass of wine off of the bed, shattering it on the marble floor.

"Shit." I sprung from the bed, secretly relishing the change of subject. I ran for a towel, cool spring wind licked at my body as I sped to the large bathroom that overlooked the city. Marvellous really. It all looked so serene from up here. I grabbed a pair of towels and strolled back into the room. Golden light of the late evening illuminated the white room. Keylia had propped herself up onto her elbows. Gigging at my entrance. I defensively grasped my stomach.

"We can't all eat what we like and not gain Any weight you know." I gasped and stood taking the sheets from her in mock upset.

"You dare insinuate that my hips cannot hold the weight that yours can, you great oaf." I embraced and kissed her, in truth, I had kept up my training. I doubted I looked much better than a man of my age could; though my vanity had always been a point of laughter among us both.

"Not at all Madame." Kissed her again before dropping to my knees to clean the wine. She made her way to her parlour, donning a robe.

"Ran. Let the servants get that." I winced as I cut my finger on a sliver of glass.

"No I can't, because as soon as they show up you would invite the cute ones to bed and I would miss the meeting, only to have to visit the apothecary in two days time because my, ahem, friends have swollen to the size of cantaloupes and burn like a dragon's ass." Keylia smiled and set her head against the doorframe smiling coyly.

"Do dragons asses burn much?" An air of scholarly impudence fell over me.

"Madame, I can absolutely, undoubtedly, assure you that Dragons asses burn with the fire of ten thousand suns." I paused briefly. "It's the reason for their disagreeable constitution." She heaved heavily with laughter as she waved her wrist in my direction. Turning to get ready for the Congress of Advisory. "Val Forets wealthiest and brightest citizens." Charles' words. Though I think he knew that the first outweighed the second significantly. Fortunately anyone worth their salt could separate the sycophants and fools from the real power of the city. The whole affair was highly uncouth with many cities, some felt that the cities ruler should wield his power with an iron fist; others subscribing to the idea that no one in the empire should pass has without advice from the Empress's entourage of advisors telling them how to do it and when. I much rather enjoyed the company we brought, Bankers, traders, businessmen with their wits about them. They were my company, Charles was forced to pander to the fools of the nobility. And given he was away with the most important of them, that meant I was to deal with the chaff. I walked into the room Keylia had disappeared into; slinking into her warm bath she had be drawing. I closed my eyes and attempted to prepare myself for the insanity of presenting a brand new defensive plan to the underbelly of the nobility of the city.

Sons and aides...fuck me have I stooped.

A slight consolatory feeling dampened the blow to my ego.

It was the divine after all. A deep sigh pulled me from my well of melodramatic misery.

"You're a real bastard."

"Oh I know, better hurry before I suck all the warmth out of the water." She splashed my face as she slid in, spilling water put onto the floor.

Evening had just taken the city of Val Foret, the sky was a tantalizing mixture of light blues and deep purple. A cool wind passed through the small lit square I was to meet Cadwgan in. I ran my hand down my horse's face, gently rubbing its nose. Approaching footsteps called my attention behind me, I turned and nodded in greeting.

"Beautiful evening isn't it?"

“Yes… And hopefully more to come.”

"It should be a pleasant summer." I noticed the finer quality of his clothes.

"You look good, thank you for humoring the Orlesian demands for high fashion." I calmly motioned over towards a bench.

"I trust your meeting with the Lieutenant-Commander was fruitful? Francois is a brilliant man, of a different caliber than most."

He took a seat beside me, smiling. It made me more uncomfortable than i'd like to admit. “Oh yes. When the defense plans are put into fruition, this place will be much easier to patrol, defend and travel through. Charles might not like the amount of gold it’ll cost though. And well, not often do I wear such nice clothing. Well…” He rubbed his chin. I counted four animals dead on his person so far. “As nice as Ferelden fashion allows.”

"It will do just fine. And the cost should be shouldered partially by the bankers guild here in the city. Good money in a safe city. The shippers and major traders will also be offering coin by the end of the night." I placed both of my hands on my knees. "A burning countryside and sacked city isn't profitable for anyone. At an estimate, could you say?" I suspected that I didn't actually want to know.

“For properly defending the city? Gold cost is hard to say, I’m not much of a numbers man.” His eyes flickered for a few moments, counting, or recalling. “As for the city… In it’s current state, we can’t defend Val Foret without being eradicated in the process. Unless we were to hole up in The Crown, but then we have a siege on our hands. That’s something we’ll need to try to avoid if at all possible.”

He took a more comfortable position where he sat. “After these plans go into motion? Well, a lot less people. Maybe only a quarter of the city's population? Hard to say. Ultimately depends on who we’re fighting.”

I nodded silently.

"It is what has to be done, I won't see my family killed off by Gaspards men, or strung up by the Empress's." I glanced west. Doubting the sun had begun to set there just yet. At least he has a hour or so more of daylight.

"How long would it take to implement these ideas? To make them concrete?"

“Honestly? Much longer than I would like. If construction started at this moment and went on at full capacity… Maybe a year and a half or more.” He bit his lower lip. “Something tells me when Gaspard or Celene comes knocking on our doorstep, we won’t be ready.”

"Merde." I slid my hands down the base of my neck in a defeated manner. "What does it entail? Wall renovations? Anti siege measures?" I was prying no doubt, but I didn't want to waltz into this meeting with my arms swinging.As it were.

“Walls are to be reinforced, towers are to be erected along the walls of the town now. The gates will be fortified to be sturdier. As well, The Crown will have some digging done. A tunnel system to allow us to send troops underneath and past the walls to flank the enemy. It’ll be a one way ticket unfortunately.” He paused briefly. “Some minor things as well, the town's own guard are getting better gear to match the quality of our own. Some repairs throughout the town as well.” He bobbed his head in conclusion.

"Sounds comprehensive, good." A bell in the Chantry began to chime.

"Sounds like it's time to begin getting on our way". I saddled the chestnut brown horse I had brought from Charles' Chateau. Purebred Orlesian warhorses, strong, regal creatures; he would have shit a kidney if he knew I'd taken them. A flash of a smirk passed over my face as I settled into the saddle.

"That one's yours, she is an easy ride. Just follow me and we should make it on time." I spurred the horse forward and very slowly began making my way out of the square.

“I had a friend that would attend functions like these.”

The horses fell into a comfortable trot through the city. "An Orlesian? Would I know him?"

“No, Free Marcher. He was a noble. Was, died a long time ago.” his tone was solemn, he still grieved for the man. I did not intend to pry.

"I'm very sorry." We rode under passing lights for several minutes before I spoke again. "Have you noticed the strangeness of the mages as of late? Some seem quite uneasy throughout the Crown."

“That Conclave might be making them nervous. They’ve had freedom for far too long, and now worry about being shipped back into Circles or worse. Or perhaps it’s those Templar Errants… Or even…”

His face twisted. It was subtle; unconscious probably, no one without years of experience in reading body language would have noticed it. I decided not to pry, riding on in silence

Neither of us said a word as we continued up the street. I scanned out over the river. “I have someone coming to replace me.” His words were brought forth like a mage would a flame, causing me some pause.

I pulled the reigns on my horse, causing pause for a moment. My lips parted, leaving my voice searching. I looked down and thumbed at a single straw of hay caught in my horse's mane.

"I am sorry." I was beyond words, strangely more upset than I had expected. "Charles and myself would like to offer you refuge here in the city, or any lands in the surrounding area, for your services. We would also broker land for you with the Ferelden Crown if you wish."

“I appreciate it, but all I want to do is take up my families land for them. Just to live quietly with Tara and Leah. I can’t keep fighting, Ranmarque. Sooner or later, I’ll die. It won’t be in battle. I’ll just… fall apart. The mage I brought with me, Alessia says it so. And while Abbey doesn’t want to admit it, she knows as well. It’s better this way.” His knuckles turned white as the strained against the leather reins. “My replacement will be here in two weeks time. Treat them well.”

"I'll do my best." A whirlwind of thought pulsed through me. "I am truly sorry to see you go." I attempted a half hearted smile, the pitiful display only held for a few moments.

"Perhaps tomorrow we train. It's been...a long time."

“Perhaps.” He laughed to himself. “I think I might be the only Ferelden at this meeting. The old animosity between the two nations still lingers.”

"If I waltzed into a landsmeet, and told your people how to defend their homes, would they be happy?" I laughed aloud.

"These fools are harmless, anyone with any intelligence or enough clout to be considered anyone is in the Frostbacks. Poor bastards are probably being blown apart by the wind."

A deep laugh erupted from my left. “Too bad Loghain is dead. I would have love to hear him prance around going ‘I told you guys the Orlesians were coming back!’” He snickered like a school boy who was impersonating Chantry Cleric. “Him and Gaspard are very much alike.”

"I suspect more than either of them would wish to admit. Fucking Fools." I swore in Orlesian and spat onto the ground. "I suppose the power hungry are not all that different in Ferelden than they are here." A quick pause broke my chain of thought as I nodded to a closing shopkeep. "Tell me, what do you know of this situation with the Empress and Gaspard De Chalons?" His name was unintentionally formal in its full length making the sentence awkward in statement. Another shopkeeper waved as we passed. The Sentinels had received a boon of public support since the abomination was caught. Word of Bonventures abuse had become diluted by tales of the Orders fearless Templars capturing a dangerous and villous abomination. The tale became more and more storybook with each subsequent retelling; which resulted in more waves from the small people of the city, and with any sort of luck would result in the nobles parting from their deep reserves of coin. With any sort of luck.

“What I know of this situation? Gaspard wants Ferelden, stuck in the conquering ways. My understanding is that he’s quite upset that the Empress isn’t trying to do so. Amongst other things. The Empress is merely defending her claim to the throne.” He paused to scratch his head. “That’s all I know. I’m more concerned with this batch of recruits however…”

"The less the better." I turned to face him as we passed through the gates to the royal district; still scarred with flame from the elven riots a year gone. "We need a consolidated house. Do not bring up either Gaspard or Celene. Under any circumstances, if things get out of hand call me up and I'll, defuse." The horse jumped onto a small curb jarring my breath from me. "...the best I can."

“Of course.” He said this without missing a beat, obviously missing the curb my horse had nearly jolted me off on.

We rounded another corner to the assembly house. A massive marble building with a bronzed statue of Andraste overlooking a armored knight. Archaic and stately. I dismounted my horse and began towards the massive open doors waiting for Cadwgan to follow. Keylia was somewhere inside.

"Great leaders of Orlais have changed history in these halls." I gave the hulking Ferelden a coy smile.

"I don't imagine they will be thinking of us when the next man says that."

He laughed. “No, I don’t think they will be.” He followed me rapidly from the sudden stop of his horse, I should have warned him but it had slipped my mind.“Was she ever real?” He turned to me. What am I some sort of cleric?

“Andraste? Yes. History is fairly indicative of her existence.” I opened a door and beckoned him inside. It was eerily quiet. “Whether or not so was married to the Maker? That's a question for another man, I've fucked more lay sisters than I've ever prayed with.” I threw a finger over my mouth and winked.

“That of course is a strict secret.” the door to the hallway we were passing through bolted open; a wave of voices followed. Keylia stood in the hallway. I kissed her and introduced her to Cadwgan.

“Cadwgan O’Hara, commander of the Sentinels of Orlais, master-at-arms at The Crown of Val Foret.” Formal introduction. Good start.

She gave the Ferelden a deep curtsey.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you messeree O’Hara. I've heard much of your martial prowess from Ranmarque; he is impressed by few men, and exceptionally fewer does he regularly tell me about.” I sighed quietly, embarrassed.

I averted my eyes, subtly. “Hopefully, you’ll never have to see my prowess, though I assure you, Ranmarque is the better fighter between the two of us.” He struck my back hard. Knocking the smirk from my lips.

“I may not hope for such a thing, though I cannot deny it would be interesting to see you in action sir O’Hara. From a strictly scientific cause of course.” She glanced over her shoulder. “We should begin making o ur way towards the main chamber. Too many many fools with too much power left alone can be...disastrous.” I took a large stride to get beside her.

“You changed your dress, what was wrong with the Lavender? This looks fine but…”

“A madame told me it called too much attention to myself from the stands, or some such nonsense.” She sighed. “Whilst any of these old generals can wear whatever they please too, I am bound to the whims of some decrepit old crone.” I chuckled to myself for a brief moment.

“Such is life. I for one thought you called for a mere fraction of the attention you deserve.” I winced. “Maker that was bad. What I'm saying is that you look gorgeous.” We entered a small antechamber outside the main Rotunda of the assembly house as I began fixing my mask to my face.

“You’re right. That was bad.” She kissed the silverite cheek. “Have fun playing politics, I have to attend to an old woman and several glasses of tea.” The snark laden in this statement could have sunk a small ship, but with that she was gone, making her way out towards her waiting carriage. I thought for a moment to explain what she had said earlier, deciding against approaching the subject again.

“Let me give you a quick run through of what we're going to see.” I made a final adjustment to my mask. “First we will have several speakers bringing topics to our attention, of which we can do nothing on because we don't actually rule the city. Then you will present your plan to the assembly. It will be torn down and apart by the nobility. Do not worry about them. Focus your attention on the Bankers, and protecting commerce and trade alongside the city. Those are the ears we need to listen, and these minor nobles will be posturing in Charles’ absence. After your plan is finished we will take a short rest and resume afterwards. You can then head back to the Crown if you wish.”

He grunted. “I have no problem with nobles tearing apart my plan. They, however, might not listen to A…” His teeth clenched, clearly he was angry. “Dog.” He spat the word like it was laden with darkspawn blood.

“The a coin in the hands of an Orlesian is just as valid as one in the hands of a Ferelden. Trust me, they would listen to a Darkspawn if it had a decent plan to make them money.” I placed my hand on his shoulder.

“It will work. Trust me.” I opened the doors to the massive round chamber. Maker it had better.

“Well, I’m ready when you are.” The Ferelden mumbled quietly

I motioned to a seat, pouring myself a glass of water.

“Now we wait…”

The time passed quickly between the first few speakers; thankfully. A few demands for levies from the farms, raising of taxes, lower some tariffs on Ferelden raw goods, nothing astounding.

The final few lords finished their bickering and Cadwgan was called to the stands. An introduction by an announcer was finished he walked up the steps of the podium. I gave him a reaffirming nod from my seat.

“Well I can already tell none of you, save for two in the crowd, have ever picked up a sword. I could change that…”Letting it sink in, I smiled. “But I won’t. Some of you look like you’ve drank a bit too much over your lifetime, and others are far too old to pick up a sword.” A gentle wave of noise rolled through the crowd, questioning murmurs and quiet outcries were quickly silenced.

Good Maker above I poured a glass of wine and massaged the base of my neck.

...Perhaps in Ferelden they begin propositions with insults…

“To begin, some general maintenance is required. Starting with the aging town roads, as well as the roads leading out of the town to a degree. This should speed up all trade in and out of Val Foret.” He began rubbing the base of his neck, of which stopped me immediately. Maker he hasn't been taking gestures from me has he? I sat up higher in my seat, hoping that if was in fact taking queues from me that he would at least gain something. “The town’s gates shall be replaced. In their current state, half starved halla could tear down the main gate. Once it’s reinforced, it should be able to withstand a constant barrage of modern siege equipment.” I stopped to see if anyone would pipe up with their non-existent wisdom.

I noticed a particular unrest within one of the upper seats, reserved typically for Marquis Jean La-Pet; today, occupied by his son. The boy was an unfortunate specimen of a man; his massive nose reminiscent of a vultures beak. Without warning or introduction he stood and called out through the rotunda.

“Our walls are the finest in the empire!” A few distasteful groans of rolled through crowed. This behavior was almost expected of La-Pet, and such sudden and obnoxious eruptions were sadly common among the family.

He loosed a long sigh before continuing. “If I wanted to, I could tear down these walls myself. Speaking of, the walls shall be rebuilt and reinforced where applicable. As well, I’m adding a ring of towers that will go along the wall. These are to better call out approaching threats to the town, as well as anyone whom might be in need of some assistance. Such as the lucrative wagons that our merchants in town, miss out due to highwaymen.” He raised his arm sensing an interruption.

I stood and cut off La-Pet before he could continue.

“Thomas. Sit. Please.” I gave a brief nod to Cadwgan to continue.

The Ferelden blinked several times, looking a little more dazed than i was comfortable with. “As well, I propose we build a tunnel underneath the Chantry, as a means to escape Val Foret if a siege looks to be a loss, or perhaps a fire that rages uncontrollably. There are some other minor things, such as funding for better equipment for the Sentinels, the construction of a guard post for the merchant district, thus increasing patrols there. We will also construct another guard post near the noble district as well. The town’s own guard will also need better equipment as well. That is my proposal. Any questions?”

All was silent for a moment, then as a dam shattering under the strain of a mighty river it came. A deafening blast of voices. I rose from my seat and took the stand unannounced as the presiding official attempted to keep order. I set and hand on Cadwgan’s shoulder, moving ahead of him to take the brunt of the outrage. The overseer’s cries for order were swallowed whole the noise; I dug deep summoning a bellowing voice from the bottom of my stomach.

“In the name of Andraste I will have ORDER!” I drew several quick breaths, listening to my voice reverberate back to me from the inside of the rounded walls.

“Madames and Messerees...” The presiding official began to introduce me by name and full title; I rapidly waved him off.

“You all know who I am. I have served this city for almost my entire life; here and abroad. I only wish to guarantee the safety of my home; as does the Man standing behind me.” A woman stood several rows from the front row seats.

“He is not of this country! He cares not for this city!” I gave a slight bow.

“Countess, he has taken a solemn oath to defend this land and the people of it. Do you care any less for this country because your mother hails from Ostwick? Do I, because of my birth in the plains of the Anderfels?” Silence dominated the room for the first time since we had began. “Any man who questions my motives or loyalties may come and test their honor against mine, blade against blade.” I scanned the room from beneath my mask of silverite. None stood to take the challenge. “This man's word should be taken as my own, the word of the Sentinels that watch over our city in times of peace, and more importantly in times of war. The Dales may seem ages away in this moment. But I assure you that the fury of War will come to our gates, and now I ask you; shall we be led to the torch as a lamb is to slaughter? Or should we be prepared to meet them blade for blade, and shield to shield?” Several silent nods fell through the crowd, equally met with stern gazes of contempt. “Now I ask you to behave as you birth would have you, as ladies and lords of Orlais; act as you would in the presence of the ruler of this city and do away with this disgraceful banter.” I sighed through my nose desperately hoping I contained my anger and kept composure. I bowed to the audience and walked passed Cadwgan to my seat. Whispering in his ear in passing.

“Remember in war you do not need to slay them all, just most.”

The Ferelden gave me a brief nod as i passed and took a seat. “With war in it’s current state, I would be putting your funds to use right away. If Celene, Gaspard, or their fucking jester comes knocking on our doors here, I want to be ready. That is all.”

The deliberation, and debate took the better part of three hours to boil down to a head; a rest. The finer details were discussed in great depth by many leaving the round for fresh air, drink and food. I was one of the last to leave the room, taking a moment to consolidate my senses.

I met Cadwgan in the hallway.

“Well, it certainly could have gone worse.” I smiled beneath my mask. “I think I have the support to get it done. Hopefully between Françios and Keylia we will muster the coin by the time Charles has returned from the Conclave.” I bobbed my head towards an open doorway to a patio. “You mind if we move out of doors for a moment? I long to feel the breeze.”

“Yeah. Get out of the stink of Orlesians.” I smiled at the jest as he followed me out.

“I smell like primroses you swine.” I jested closing the doors behind us, chuckling as I removed my mask. The air here smelled floral, air from the gardens of the royal district being carried high onto the balconies.

“Maker, any longer and I may have slit my own throat. Listening to a gagg-” A sudden rapping on the glass caught my attention. I made my way to the door, the man pressed through without hesitation.

“Messeree Lobrandt, I have urgent news.” I rolled my eyes and made my way to Bannister; facing over the city.

“If urgent news is regarding an insult between the aristocracy I will throw you over the edge into the fountain.” A perplexed and worried look crossed his face for a brief second.

“No Messeree. It's about the Conclave.” I stood and turned to the aide.

“Oh Maker good news, did the end the war?” The man's gaze dropped down to the floor.

“No Messeree. The Conclave was destroyed, None have survived.” A sharp sensation began spreading over my spine. “We believe that Charles and the rest of the representatives are dead.”

I felt Cadwgan’s eyes upon me before he spoke. “Means this war isn’t over.” I said. “Best to leave us messenger.” The man nodded and left. I felt his hand on my shoulder. “It’s only a chance he’s dead. The Frostbacks aren’t an easy traverse.” my eyes darted over the city. Thinking.

“Anything is possible.” I turned towards the overlook of the city. “Maker. Who gains from this. The divine, the Mages, the Templars all dead.” A deep breath exited through my mouth as I turned back to Cadwgan.

“Go back to the Crown, we are high alert. I will notify the nobility here.” I left the door open as I passed. “May Andraste watch over us all, if she is still watching.”