A Tevinter Inquisitor (Dragon Age)

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dragon Age franchise, it belongs to Bioware.

A Tevinter Inquisitor

Prologue​

Under normal circumstances, it would have been an incongruous sight.

Templars, or what could pass for them, mounted on reptilian mounts escorting a large and well-furnished carriage pulled by a pair of brontos up a rough road on the Frostback Mountains. That, and a baggage train of mules, along with an assortment of Elven and Dwarven servants, mounted on a mix of ponies and brontos. Clearly the procession of someone of great importance, but why that someone would be heading into the Frostbacks instead of someplace like Denerim, Highever, or Amaranthine would have boggled the mind.

These weren’t normal circumstances, however. The Mage-Templar War had been raging for over a year now, mostly in Ferelden and Orlais, with various skirmishes erupting across Nevarra and the Free Marches. Making things worse was the concurrent Orlesian Civil War, as Grand Duke Gaspard sought to overthrow his cousin Empress Celene and regain the throne stolen out from under his nose decades ago.

With the only power in Thedas able to bring both the templars and mages alike to heel tearing itself apart, it had fallen to the Chantry to try and arbitrate an end to hostilities. Ferelden had no inclination to act outside of its borders, while Nevarra itself was on the brink of civil war, between Houses van Markham and Pentaghast. The Free Marches had no unified military, leaving the Chantry – which originally held responsibility for both the templars and mages anyway – the only ones with the clout to possibly resolved the Mage-Templar War.

And in so doing, regain the power and influence to force the Orlesian royals back to the negotiating table, and end the war before foreign powers could take advantage of weakness in Thedas’ greatest power.

To that end, Divine Justinia V had called the Divine Conclave. Together with the Chantry’s greatest and brightest, she would meet with representatives of both the mages and templars, and finding a common ground between them, end the fighting once and for all.

As such, the sight of individuals of importance and their retinues climbing up into the Frostbacks had become…if not commonplace, unsurprising, to the Fereldan and Orlesian peasants on both sides of the mountains.

Had they been more learned, or worldly, however, they would have realized this caravan was different from the others.

For starters, there were the mounts the templars used. Dracolisks, a rare sight in Thedas, so much so they were only ridden by rich eccentrics and riding connoisseurs. Their draconic appearance also lent them something of a malignant air, and one not completely undeserved at that. As one professional breeder once described them, dracolisks weren’t simply unruly and bad-tempered. They were plain mean.

That, and they were the favored mounts of the Tevinter Imperium’s cavalry regiments.

The same Tevinter Imperium that had its snarling dragon proudly worked in metal and semi-precious stones on the doors of the carriage the Templars were escorting. A dragon your typical and illiterate Fereldan or Orlesian peasant had failed to recognize, as despite the dragon’s association with Tevinter or the Blights or other such things, quite a few noble houses in Thedas also featured dragons as part of their heraldry. Indeed, even Orlais’ much famed and nigh-legendary founder, Kordillus Drakon I, was associated with a dragon.

Probably because they were originally from Tevinter themselves, something most Orlesians or even the Chantry preferred not to acknowledge.

And so, the caravan passed up into the Frostbacks without meriting more than a few looks and some whispers from peasants who marked its passing. Bandits and highwaymen gave them meaner looks, but the nearly two-score templars guarding the caravan had them decide that perhaps discretion was the better part of valor that day.

That, and dead men don’t get to spend gold on whores and ale.

Eventually, after a long and hard journey, the caravan reached the threshold of Haven, and was waved down by Fereldan guards. “Halt!” the ranking guard commanded. “Who goes there?”

“Knight-Lieutenant Aurelius of the Imperial Templar Order.” The ranking templar said, riding forward and pulling off his helmet, exposing an olive-skinned face with dark hair cut short. “Escorting the honored delegate of the Tevinter Imperium, to observe the proceedings of the Divine Conclave by invitation of Her Perfection, Divine Justinia V.”

Aurelius reached out then, holding out a scroll. The ranking guard took it with a dubious look on his face, one that faded as he noted the Divine’s own seal on the wax, and pulling it open, read the invitation before taking in the stamped seal at the bottom.

“We…we will have to confirm this…” the ranking guard began, only to be interrupted by a woman’s voice.

“That will not be necessary, young man.” A Chantry sister in red, white, and gold said while slowly approaching. “I will personally vouch for them, so let them pass.”

“Yes, sister.” The ranking guard said with a bow before turning back to Aurelius. “You may pass, knight-lieutenant. Welcome to Haven.”

Aurelius nodded at the guard, then at the sister. “My thanks, sister.” He said.

“Go in peace, knight-lieutenant.” The sister said, and then the caravan was moving along.

“What a rustic sight.” One templar said a few moments later.

“Keep it to yourself, Cassius.” Aurelius said. “No need to piss off our hosts when we’ve only just arrived.”

“As you say, knight-lieutenant.” Cassius said, before gesturing with his head in the direction of the village. “Place is packed tighter than a Qarinus whorehouse, getting space for the magister and her retinue is going to be a pain.”

“True,” Aurelius admitted. “But it’s not as bad as it seems.”

“Knight-lieutenant?”

Aurelius gestured with his head at the carriage behind them. “The magister brought a full pavilion with them, remember?” he pointed out. “We don’t need rooms or shacks or anything of the sort, just enough open space.”

“Our hosts won’t be able to stable the dracolisks with regular horses, anyway.” Cassius said.

“Now that you mention it,” Aurelius said with a small smile. “Make sure that doesn’t happen, knight-corporal. I don’t want to hear complaints from our hosts about our mounts taking bites out of their horses.”

Cassius winced and then nodded. “Understood, knight-lieutenant.” He said, with the rest of the journey to Haven proper taking place in silence. As they approached, they were waved down by a Fereldan woman wearing a modest brigandine reinforced by metal rerebraces.

“…dracolisks…and the heraldry on that carriage…so, you’re the Tevinters they said would be coming?” the woman began. “Honestly thought the Chantry was pulling my leg but here you are. Anyway…name’s Threnn, and I’m the quartermaster of this whole affair. You’ve brought quite a lot of people with you.”

“And I’m Knight-Lieutenant Aurelius Juntinus.” Aurelius said with a nod before dismounting. “I can see how we’ll be a problem.”

“Quite…” Threnn said before peering around him and then at the rest of the caravan beyond. “…we’re already barely making do to find room and board for everyone…”

“Then you might be pleased to hear that we can help you in that regard.” Aurelius interrupted before smiling as Threnn looked at him quizzically. “The lady magister has brought a pavilion for herself and her retinue, so we’ll be fine with some empty space. That, and water for the mounts and everything else that needs it.”

“Huh…well, that’s a load off my back.” Threnn conceded. “Maybe you Tevinters aren’t all that bad either…still, empty space is a luxury on top of a mountain. Let me get back to you on that, in the meantime, feel free to stretch your legs.”

The quartermaster nodded and walked off at that, Aurelius following her with his eyes before turning back to Cassius. “Knight-corporal,” he began. “Inform the lady magister we might be held up for a bit, but we’ve been granted leave to…stretch our legs. As her ladyship will have been cooped up all this time, she might want to take advantage of that.”

“Yes, knight-lieutenant.” Cassius said before dismounting and heading back to the heart of the caravan. Passing various attendants checking in on the carriage’s exterior after the rough passage through the mountains, Cassius arrived at the left-hand door, and politely taking off his helmet, rapped his gauntleted knuckles against the wood. Then he silently waited, until a metal slot slid open. “Apologies for disturbing you, your ladyship, but we’ve arrived at Haven. We’re still sorting out space and other necessities for your and your retinue’s accommodations, but we have leave to stretch our legs in the meantime. Perhaps you might like to take a walk around in the open instead of staying inside as you have most of the trip?”

There was a moment of silence, and then the slot slid closed. Another moment later, and the sound of various locks coming undone could be heard, Cassius stepping back and aside moments before lyrium runes woven into the door briefly flashed as the wards were undone from the inside. Then the door opened, Cassius stepping forward to politely offer a hand, even as magic rippled and velvet-padded steps appeared below the door leading to the ground.

“So…this is Haven…” Magister Aeris Rann of the Qarinus Circle of Magi softly said, even as she allowed Cassius to help her down the steps, not even flinching as her partly-bare feet stepped onto the snowy ground. “…what a rustic sight…”

Cassius smiled at the magister making the same comment he did, before a powerful breeze gusted. It didn’t last long, but it lasted long and powerful enough to briefly push back the magister’s hood, and ever so quickly exposing the long and pointed ears poking out from her hair. Not many people saw, but those that did stared.

“…hmm…” Aeris hummed as she adjusted her hood and hefted her staff, darkly-polished dragon bone glimmering with lyrium spiraling up towards the gold and emerald dragon at its head. “…then again, appearances can be deceiving. I’ve come this far, might as well see it through. You have my thanks, knight-corporal.”

“Yes, lady magister.” Cassius said with a salute, even as Aeris turned and looked expectantly into the carriage, where a pair of Humans and another Elf sat waiting for their mistress’ command.

“Come, apprentices.” She said. “Shall we see what this place has to offer?”
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A/N

I’m sure you can guess where this is going.

For those of you who read the original from SB, that one is discontinued, and this is the rewrite. I’ve also decided to shake things up further, by making the Inquisitor not just a Tevinter or even a magister, but also an Elf.

 

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dragon Age franchise, it belongs to Bioware.

A Tevinter Inquisitor

Chapter 1​

Aeris delicately opened a wooden box, its lid and sides decorated with gold leaf and semi-precious stones arranged into abstract geometric patterns. Then she reached inside, and lifted out a pinch of glowing blue powder that she sprinkled into a flask of blood-red wine. Closing the lid, she gently swirled the flask while heading towards the round table in the middle of the pavilion, ghostly green light dancing through the air in the flask’s wake, and then she was pouring drinks for herself and her apprentices, the red wine glimmering with star-like flashes of blue.

“Observations?” the magister simply asked as she sat down, and took a sip of lyrium and Fade-infused red.

“The blacksmith spat when I walked by the forge.” Livia said before taking a drink. “Then he said something about ‘robes’ and ‘vints’…but what can you expect? Southerners…if not for the history books documenting the New Exalted Marches, I’d say we’re wasting our time here.”

“We probably are.” Drusus chimed in. “No offense intended, magister, but I still think the southern nations will never close ranks with us until the Qunari attack.”

“The Qunari have never stopped attacking.” Livia remarked. “It’s just the southerners preferring to stick their heads in the sand and pretend it’s otherwise. They fail to realize that Qunari are deceitful and treacherous by nature. The Llomeryn Accords aren’t worth the paper they’re written on, with the Arishok’s attack on Emerius in the Free Marches seven years ago proving that much.”

“Kirkwall.” Aeris interjected. “The modern name is Kirkwall. I understand it’s fashionable back home to refer to various places in the south by their old Tevinter names, but in the interests of politics and diplomacy, the modern names should be used outside of the Imperium.”

“Of course, magister.” Livia said with a small bow. “My apologies.”

Aeris nodded. “I don’t disagree, of course.” She said. “The southerners are strangely blind to the threat of the Qunari, and would rather pretend they do not exist. That, or blindly believe in the binding authority of the Llomeryn Accords, until reality asserts itself, as it did seven years ago at Kirkwall.”

“Either that,” Drusus pointed out. “Or they expect us and the Qunari to wear each other down, and when one or the other finally emerges victorious, to simply sweep in and destroy whoever is left.”

Livia snorted. “Fools.” She sneered. “The victor would emerge stronger from it, and free to focus their strength on the south without hindrance.”

Aeris smiled. “A statement that applies equally to the Imperium as it would to the Qunari.” She said with a small laugh. “Do watch your words, my dear. Until the Qunari are defeated, we should not give the impression of potentially being unreliable allies, or a common enemy for the Qunari and the south to stand against.”

Livia bowed again, even as Aeris’ third apprentice began to speak. “I’m more concerned that we were recognized as Tevinters so easily.” He said. “Here, at the pavilion, it’s only to be expected. We have Imperial banners flying from our tents, the entrances of which have dragons embroidered on the cloth. But, while we’re simply walking around? This is…concerning.”

Drusus snorted and then laughed, with Livia and Aeris alike smiling and lifting amused eyebrows at Koris. “Koris, my friend,” Drusus began. “We all have dragon imagery embroidered into our robes and cloaks. Our staves similarly have draconic imagery, and the four of us here are all mages. It’d be more surprising if we weren’t recognized.”

Koris blinked, and then looking down at himself, blinked again, at the gold dragons climbing up the blue-dyed wool of his mantle, or the draconic motifs of his belt and its buckle alike. “Oh…yes…I’d forgotten…” he said.

Aeris sighed and took a deep drink of her wine, savoring the rich flavor of the alcohol tempered by the metallic bitterness of lyrium. Similarly, the fire of alcohol in her belly and veins was accompanied by a rush of otherworldly vigor that came with the ingested lyrium, all making for a heady blend of sensations. “In any case,” she finally said. “We’re only here to observe, and bear witness to the Orlesian Chantry try and talk the southern mages and templars down from all this pointless bloodshed they’re indulging in.”

“Do you think it will amount to anything?” Livia asked. “This…Divine Conclave, of the White Divine?”

“Normally I’d say no.” Aeris said before narrowing her eyes. “But Divine Justinia is a cunning woman. Truth be told, when we requested to be allowed to observe these proceedings, it was only a token gesture, a way to demonstrate the Imperium’s interest – for various reasons – and willingness to act in a southward direction. We never actually expected anything to come of it. Imagine our surprise when the White Divine not only granted our request, but sent a hand-written invitation for a delegation from the Imperium to observe the Divine Conclave.”

“Could it be a trap?” Livia asked. “Presenting us as an external threat to motivate the southern mages and templars to compromise with each other and once again form a unified front against us, or indeed, any other external threat?”

“Possible,” Aeris conceded. “But that seems a little too…reactionary, considering the White Divine’s reputation here in the south. Or at least, Divine Justinia in particular.”

“She does have the reputation of an idealist,” Drusus noted. “And has made plenty of enemies for it. Long before this war, even.”

“I’ve also heard she’s rumored to sympathize with the rebel mages.” Koris pointed out. “And there are reports – conflicting ones, admittedly – that when the Val Royeaux Circle united behind the south’s grand enchanter, the White Divine acted to delay the templars’ response, giving the rebel mages time to escape the city and reach their allies.”

“Not conflicting.” Aeris quickly said with a shake of her head. “We’ve since confirmed that the White Divine did do just that, hence the southern templars deciding to respond in kind to the mage rebellion independently of the Orlesian Chantry. But, returning to the White Divine, and knowing all that…”

“…she’s still alive, and her personal power base still firmly secure.” Livia admitted. “Enough to retain a majority of support from the Orlesian Chantry’s Grand Clerics, and influence with the south’s rulers and nobles, that both the rebel mages and templars could not simply ignore her call for this Divine Conclave. Yes, I see the point.”

“Do you think this Divine Conclave will accomplish anything meaningful, my lady?” Drusus asked.

“…yes, I do.” Aeris said after a moment. “Given the influence she must have expended to call this Divine Conclave, the White Divine will not allow it to end without a meaningful result. That said, I do not think it will end quickly, nor will the rebels unanimously accept whatever compromise results.”

Livia snorted. “A thousand years’ worth of grudges from mages getting collared and beaten down finally boiling over, while the templars see it as their just and holy duty to keep the collars on and the beatings going.” she spat. “No, the negotiations will not be short, and the hardliners will never be satisfied with whatever results. The latter might even have foreseen it, and are making preparations even as we speak.”

“That does seem likely.” Koris agreed. “But at the very least, it should wind the fighting down by a significant degree, perhaps enough for the Orlesian Chantry to similarly arbitrate an end to the Orlesian Civil War.”

“And so long as the fighting ends early enough that the south’s value as allies against the Qunari isn’t spent,” Aeris concluded. “Then Cerberus’ objectives here will be met.”

Drusus scowled. “But in the meantime,” he began. “We’ll have to sit and watch as southerners make long-winded speeches and argue over the same points over and over again.”

“Sounds like home, to be honest.” Livia quipped.

“Not much different from formal events and even classes at the Qarinus Circle.” Koris agreed. “And, if it isn’t too forward to say so, official sessions of the Imperial Senate.”

“It isn’t.” Aeris reassured her apprentice, before smiling at Drusus. “And if you’re still aspiring to eventually get a seat on the Imperial Senate, well, you’d better get used to everything you’re expecting the Divine Conclave to be.”

“…yes, my lady.” Drusus sourly said.

“Cheer up, Drusus.” Livia said before taking a deep breath. “Like I said earlier, there’s a lot of grudges behind this whole affair, and it’s all getting brought to the table. I doubt it’ll be long-winded, and even if it is, it shouldn’t be too hard to find artistic value in it.”

“Well, if you put it that way…” Drusus mused while lifting his glass for a drink. “…prosit, I suppose.”

Aeris just smiled.
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“Remarkable…” Drusus breathed as they entered the Temple of Sacred Ashes come the following morning. The young mage was looking and turning from one direction to the next so quickly he might well give himself whiplash. “…just remarkable…as without, so within…strip away all the…modern, iconography and apparel, and this whole building is a relic of pre-Chantry Tevinter and pre-Fereldan Alamarri architecture. The design of the vaulted ceilings and windows both…”

“Drusus…” Livia said. “…breathe…just, breathe…”

Drusus gave his fellow mage an ugly look. “…I’m just saying,” he said. “No one builds anything like this anymore, and it’s rare to see similar architectural styles even back home. Well, at least outside of public buildings, and even then, pre-Transfiguration architecture isn’t as common as it ought to be.”

“Drusus,” Aeris chimed in. “While there’s nothing wrong with being awed by such a piece of history as we find ourselves in, perhaps you could instead take notes instead of babbling away your observations and likely forgetting about it all once your attention is drawn away.”

Drusus blinked, and then reached into his satchel bag for writing materials. “As you say, my lady.” He said. “Thank you.”

Aeris nodded, first at Drusus, and again at Livia’s thankful look. Meanwhile they proceeded through the foyer, itself nowhere near empty. Close to a hundred people filled the long foyer, lit by roaring fires in great bowls running down the foyer’s centerline, as well as through stained glass windows set high above near the ceiling. They clumped together in small groups, Chantry mothers and lay brothers and sisters standing out in their predominantly white robes, templars in heavy armor, and mages in colored robes.

Most of them ignored the Tevinters as they proceeded down the foyer, but those that noticed stared. At first glance, the Tevinters were just more mages, but they stood out with a closer look, with their heavy draconic motifs. It wasn’t long before murmuring could be heard, soft enough for Humans to have difficulty making them out, but an Elf like Aeris?

“Tevinters, here?”

“So, the Divine really did invite the Imperium to observe the conclave.”

“Shame!”

“How can anything be sacred anymore, now that the Imperium has finally managed to defile even the Prophet’s holy resting place?”

“Shame!”

“Why would the Divine allow the Tevinters to come here of all places?”

“Grand Cleric Iona must hear of this.”

“Don’t get careless. Divine Justinia never does anything without a clear motive and cold calculation behind it.”

“What could possibly be worth allowing the Imperium into this holiest of places?”

“Why, the Game, of course.”

“…Orlesians.”

“Humph…dog-lords…”

Aeris largely tuned out the murmuring southerners, but kept herself wary in case some overzealous fuckwit tried to attack her in the back. Unlikely, but it didn’t pay to be careless. No Elf could halfway succeed in the Imperium without learning that lesson, much less rise to the Imperial Senate. It was a lesson that her time on Seheron and in Rivain had only reinforced, and she had no doubt it would serve her well as it did in the Imperium and its surroundings.

She wouldn’t attack first, no.

But if someone attacked her first, she’d make them pay dearly for it.

“My lady,” Livia whispered while keeping her features hidden in her hood’s shadows. “Qunari.”

“Tal-Vashoth mercenaries, more like.” Drusus disagreed, even as Aeris lifted her head, but otherwise moved only her eyes. There were indeed Qunari, or at least the ash-skinned giants commonly known as Qunari, standing guard along the walls or by the doors leading further into the Temple of Sacred Ashes. That said, while their equipment was typical of their kind, the markings on the armor didn’t match with any of the Qunari Empire’s known – and other, officially unknown and even nonexistent – forces.

“I agree.” Aeris finally said. “Mercenaries, no doubt, hired by the…the Divine, to keep order during the conclave.”

“How very cunning of her.” Livia remarked. “It allows her to demonstrate the Chantry’s ability to exert force even without the templars or mages, or even calling on neighboring nations for aid.”

“And maintaining neutral with both.” Aeris said with a nod. “Orlais and Ferelden have not had the friendliest relations with each other.”

“We’re probably friendlier with Orlais than the latter is with Ferelden.” Drusus remarked.

“That…that is true.” Aeris admitted with a sigh, before a flash of silver caught her attention. Sure enough, not far from the foyer’s exit was a group of mages in blue and silver brigandines and tabards. They kept a wide distance from themselves and other groups even as they huddled and whispered among themselves, with the other groups respecting their privacy and otherwise regarding them with awed respect and curiosity from a polite distance.

“Maker’s breath,” Drusus breathed in awe. “Grey Wardens…the Grey Wardens are here…”

“Heroes.” Livia breathed laconically, and Aeris agreed. One word, but more than enough to describe the entirety of the Order of Grey Wardens. Even in Tevinter, the rare times a Grey Warden visited the cities would see them receive invitations to meet with and attend formal affairs hosted by the great and powerful of the Imperium. And while they didn’t always accept, no one held it against them.

Unlike the southern nations, which bizarrely preferred the wardens just…go away, whenever a Blight wasn’t ongoing, Tevinter – and the neighboring Anderfels – knew better. Tevinter even had the biggest chapter of the order in the entire continent, while even Altus families treated the induction of one of their own into the order as something to publicly celebrate.

“Leave the wardens to their business.” Aeris crisply said. “I suspect they’re here for the same reasons we are, to observe something of enormous impact to the world, and by extension, their duty.”

That said, however, Aeris allowed her gaze to linger on the wardens for just a moment longer. There was something…off, about them, a subtle feeling of wrongness, but one that was strangely familiar. Like…blood magic…?

Yes, that was it. She’d encountered…thralls, of blood magic in the past, and this felt disturbingly like it, but not quite the same either.

What’s going on here?

What’s happened to those wardens?

And…why does it feel like I’m back on Seheron again?

Aeris didn’t allow it to show on her face, but the brief reminder of Seheron led her to make a decision. Wordlessly, she reached out into the Fade, and had one of her contracted spirits keep an eye on the wardens, just in case.

That done, Aeris and her apprentices – except Koris, who’d come down with a cold – stepped out of the foyer and deeper into the Temple of Sacred Ashes.
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“…Lina was ten summers old! TEN! Even nobles don’t marry their children off that young! But because of that templar pig…”

“You were right, Livia.” Drusus grandly said while drinking from a flask of lyrium-fortified wine. “This is proving more interesting than I expected. Indeed, I daresay it’s better than a play.”

The Tevinters were seated at a balcony above a hall filled with hundreds of people, the mages and templars seated opposite from each other below. Between them were the Grand Clerics of the Chantry, while scribes and other hangers-on were seated to either side of the Chantry delegates.

“This would make great inspiration for a comedy.” Livia said with a nod. “You wouldn’t even need to exaggerate either side’s arguments all that much to make a farce of it all.”

The conversation stilled, then, as a templar gave a cutting remark. “…better the child died then,” he said with a sneer. “At peace with the Maker, than living to be condemned to the Void with his apostate mother.”

“Idiot.” Aeris said, as angry shouting erupted below. The mages were up in arms over the remark, and surprisingly enough, many of the templars were as well. Shouts of ‘shame’ and ‘undeserving of…his place in the order’ could be heard mixed with insults and challenges, Divine Justinia’s shouts for order going unheard in the fracas.

Then the Tal-Vashoth mercenaries were wading in, some positioning themselves protectively before the Grand Clerics and the Divine, and others to break up the brawling templars or to keep the mages from joining in. It took some time, but the Tal-Vashoth finally managed to calm things down, the templar responsible for the incendiary remark sitting down with a split lip and a blooming black eye.

“Perhaps a short break is in order,” Divine Justinia said with a smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes as she regarded both the templars and the mages, both of whom suddenly seeming less belligerent and more contemplative in the face of the Divine’s personal displeasure. “To calm spirits down on both sides.”

Murmuring and conversation broke out below, even as the Divine conferred with an aide before getting to her feet and walking out of the hall. A number of mages and templars did likewise, Tal-Vashoth discreetly following them out just in case someone tried to cause more trouble despite the Divine’s truce.

“You have to give it to the W…er, that is, the Most Holy,” Drusus began, quickly correcting himself before using the inflammatory prefix commonly added to the Orlesian Divine’s title in the Imperium. “Without looking or sounding angry, she managed to cow both sides into remembering their places with a single look.”

“She’s a strong woman.” Livia said with an approving nod. “Mage or not, Orlesian be damned, she does the Prophet proud.”

Aeris nodded and was about to say something before jolting as her spirit – the one watching the wardens from earlier – sent a warning. It was just a few seconds’ worth of memories, but that was enough. Through the spirit’s eyes, she watched the wardens cut down the Divine’s guards, and quickly binding her with magic, dragged her off.

And again, there was that sense of…wrongness, almost like the wardens had been enthralled with blood magic, only they weren’t.

At least…not with what little blood magic Aeris knew of.

Who could say there weren’t other blood magic spells she had never encountered before, and had been used to bind these wardens into some kind of nefarious scheme?

A part of Aeris’ mind told her to just tip off the guards, but the tactical part of her mind, honed in war and politics, instead told her to seize the initiative, and strike with maximum possible force. Especially since it didn’t seem as though the enthralled wardens had noticed her spying on them, meaning whoever was behind them probably hadn’t either. She would have the advantage of surprise.

“Wait here.” Aeris said, and without waiting for either Livia or Drusus to respond, she cast Fade Cloak on herself, and slipped out from the balcony.
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A/N

That bit about Tevinters adding lyrium to their wine is just something I invented on the spot, based on Dorian’s remarks. Specifically, when asked if Imperial Templars used lyrium, he laughs and says there wouldn’t be any left for them. And since southern mages clearly have ample lyrium available even with the templars regularly dosing themselves, I suspect in Tevinter it’s also because the mages use lyrium for both magical and recreational purposes.

Especially since unlike non-mages, mages don’t actually get addicted to lyrium, and it takes a lot more lyrium for them to start suffering from physical side-effects.

Anyway, as to the Divine Conclave, things are about to go to hell, although even before that it’s clearly not going well. I suspect it was pretty much the same in canon, with the mages lashing out even off the battlefield over a thousand years’ worth of abuses by the templars, and with tacit Chantry approval to boot. That said, not all templars are bad, as while those present do generally believe the order was just doing its duty, I like to think when one of the real bad apples shows their true colors, even their own brothers and sisters will turn on them for shaming the whole order.

 

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dragon Age franchise, it belongs to Bioware.

A Tevinter Inquisitor

Chapter 2​

“Ha…ha…HA-CHOO!”

Koris wiped at his nose with a napkin in one hand, while his other hand tried to pull his robes closer to himself. Then putting the napkin away, he lifted an eyebrow as the (Imperial) Templars forced what appeared to be another Elf onto her knees before him. Definitely not one of theirs, or those who accompanied the Orlesian Chantry, or even one of the locals, what with the tree-like slave markings…that is, the vallaslin tattooed in pale green over her forehead.

The Tevinter apprentice briefly ran through known vallaslin patterns in his head, and identified the pattern worn by the Dalish Elf before him as marking her as belonging to the goddess Mythal. Then he blinked, as he sensed the lingering traces of arcana around the other Elf, and recognized her as a mage.

“Knight-corporal, what is this?” Koris finally asked.

“Apologies for disturbing you, sir,” the knight-corporal said with a small bow. “But we found this one sneaking around the camp. Could be a spy, but seeing as the lady magister is at the temple, we thought it might be best to get your opinion on her behalf before making a final decision.”

“…fair.” Koris said while wiping his nose again before addressing the other Elf. “Right then…who are you, and why were you sneaking around our camp?”

The Dalish mage just glowered defiantly at Koris, but Koris was unimpressed. “Not much for talking, are you?” he asked but continued without expecting a response that clearly wasn’t forthcoming. “You know, just because you refuse to talk doesn’t mean you’re strong. And depending on who you’re facing, it might end up only making things worse for yourself. So, come now, enough with this posturing, and just answer my questions. If you do, I give you my word we’ll treat you fairly.”

The Dalish mage kept on glowering in silence, and Koris finally sighed. “Fine, then.” He said before turning back to the knight-corporal. “Hang her.”

“Sir…?” the knight-corporal asked, looking and sounding surprised, clearly not expecting such an order, even as the Dalish mage’s eyes bulged in their sockets.

“You heard me, knight-corporal.” Koris said, already turning away. “Hang her. She can’t give us a good reason why she was skulking about our camp, so she’s clearly a spy, maybe even a ben-hassrath agent trying to pass for a Dalish Elf, and spies hang. Chop-chop, get to it, knight-corporal.”

“Uh…yes, sir. Right away!”

“NO!” the Dalish Elf finally burst out, struggling against the templars starting to drag her away. “You…you can’t do this to me! I…I’m not a Qunari spy! You can’t just…!”

Koris raised a hand, causing the templars to stand down, and turned back to the other Elf with a small smile. “Finally got you talking.” He smugly said, wiping at his nose as the Dalish mage glowered again. “Now then, let’s start with your name.”

“…Ellana…” the other Elf grudgingly replied. “…of Clan Lavellan.”

“And I am Koris Ralohana, an apprentice of the Qarinus Circle of Magi, under Magister Aeris Rann of the Tevinter Imperium.” Koris said with a small bow. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it now?”

Ellana glowered, and Koris shook his head. “Moving on…” he continued. “…what were you doing sneaking around our camp? Come to think of it, why would a Dalish Elf even be here? I was under the impression you don’t care much for the world around you so long as it doesn’t affect your clans.”

“I could say the same about you, flat-ear.” Ellana snapped defiantly. “Isn’t the Imperium supposed to be so far above the nations of the rest of Thedas? And yet, here you are.”

“Flat-ear, really?” Koris said with a roll of his eyes. “How dreadfully unimaginative, almost like rabbit or even knife-ear, in all honesty. As for our presence here…come now, you are not just a Dalish Elf. You are a mage, and since you seem to be too young to be a full-fledged keeper, you’re probably an apprentice to one, and trained to succeed them as your clan’s leader. As such, you should understand that as much as the Imperium would prefer to stay aloof from the rest of Thedas, we can hardly afford to do so. Not when all this chaos could invite an escalation of the ongoing conflict with the Qunari, among other undesirable outcomes.”

“…you could say the same about the Dalish, then.” Ellana grudgingly said, and Koris smiled before gesturing at the templars, who let her go, allowing the Dalish Elf to get back up on her feet.

“Observing the conclave to see which way this conflict between the mages and the – southern – templars could go?” Koris asked. “If so, you should have gone to the temple hours ago.”

“You are here.” Ellana said accusingly. “All of you.”

“Hmm…yes…” Koris said with a slow nod and narrowed eyes. “…I suppose it would concern the Dalish if the Imperium decided to take greater interest in the south, wouldn’t it?”

Ellana narrowed her eyes in turn, but whatever she had to say was cut off as blinding light bleached all the colors from their surroundings. It lasted for only an instant, but it had them blinking spots from their eyes, before a thunderous blast shook the earth and sent everyone tumbling to the ground.

“…Holy Maker…” Koris cursed while shakily getting up on all fours and shaking his head. “…what…what the hell was that?”

“…Creators preserve us…” Ellana breathed, lying on her side, eyes wide in shock and horror as she looked into the distance, Koris’ eyes doing likewise as he got up on a knee before turning to look behind him.

“…the temple…” he breathed, before his breath froze in his throat as the sky burned green with the glowing light of the Fade.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Templars, form up!” Knight-Lieutenant Aurelius barked, his voice cutting through the panicked din of the servants and the locals alike. The Imperial Templars responded automatically to the weight of command, the knights pushing through the milling servants and locals to form up in parade rest before the knight-lieutenant. “I don’t know what the hell just happened, how it happened, and what’s going to happen in the future. I do know, though, that the lady magister was in the temple when it…well, got blown into the Fade…”

Aurelius trailed off uncomfortably, his fellow templars stirring with similar discomfort. “…in any case,” he continued after a moment. “Until we have confirmation otherwise, our duty is to search for the lady magister, and render what assistance she requires. And if we do get confirmation otherwise, we need to have answers for when the Senate asks questions over the loss of one of their own. Either way, we need to get up there, even if it’s obvious that the Veil is torn, and that means demons.”

“The Divine is just going to love this.” A templar muttered.

“That’s enough of that.” Aurelius barked. “We are templars. More than that, we are templars of the Tevinter Imperium, and we will not shirk our duty unlike our brethren here in the south. Knight-sergeant, lead us in prayer.”

“Yes, knight-lieutenant.” The knight-sergeant said, taking off his helmet and holding it beneath an arm, bowed his head while pressing an armored hand over his heart. “Holy Maker, hear our prayer. I am the shield on Your arm, the sword in Your hand, the mail around Your fist. As we march into the darkness, guide us as surely as You guided the prophet’s arrows.”

The templars bowed their heads in silence, nearby servants and locals similarly falling still and silent, with a few even sinking to their knees and holding their hands together, joining the templars in prayer. “And should we fall,” the knight-sergeant concluded. “Guide us to Your side, to join Blessed Andraste and Hessarian and all others who fell in Your service.”

“Templars!” Aurelius barked while raising his head. “Form up the two-headed snake! We march!”

The templars said nothing, instead letting the steely hiss of their swords being drawn speak for them. Runes on the knight-lieutenant’s blade shone cold, colder than the mountains around them, frost quickly congealing over its edges even as he took his place at the head of the formation.

Then with the sound of two-score pairs of armored boots striking the ground, the templars marched out of the Tevinter camp, formed up into a two-headed snake. Two files of men marching shoulder-to-shoulder, able to turn and fight against an enemy from any direction at a single command, or even back-to-back if need be. The sight of the templars marching out drew more than a few cheers from the locals, something that caused more than a bit of confusion for the Chantry’s lay brothers and sisters present, considering these templars followed the Imperial Chantry as opposed to the Andrastian Chantry.

But as what would eventually be called the Breach rumbled, and demons fell from the sky on burning trails, the confusion faded, pushed into the background for another day.

Doctrinal differences could wait.

Right now, any sword offered in good faith against the living nightmare they all found themselves in was welcome.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Halt, who goes there?” Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast, fourteenth-in-line for the throne of Nevarra, member of the Seekers of Truth, and Right Hand of the Divine, demanded as she rode around a corner and found what looked like a column of templars marching up towards the summit.

“Knight-Lieutenant Aurelius Juntinus of the Imperial Templar Order.” The man at the lead responded. “And you are?”

“Imperial Templars…?” Commander Cullen Rutherford, former Knight-Commander of the Kirkwall Chapter of the Templar Order, asked in surprise.

“Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker of the Chantry.” Cassandra replied, riding closer to the Tevinters with a censorious look on her face. “Interesting, that the Imperial Templars seemed to have responded so quickly to the destruction of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”

The Tevinters bristled at that, but discipline held, the knight-lieutenant answering for them all. “Our duty was to protect the lady magister, seeker.” He coldly replied. “The only reason we did not accompany her to the temple was because she thought our presence in the temple potentially provocative, when we are only supposed to be observers, and not actual participants.”

“And yet you are here now.” Cassandra replied just as coldly.

“Whether or not the lady magister survived,” Aurelius snapped. “We will ascertain for ourselves, and if need be, bring answers back for the Imperial Senate.”

“Leave it be, seeker.” Cullen wearily said. “We’d have responded no less quickly, if the templars had any sizeable force in one place when…this, happened.”

Cassandra glanced unhappily at Cullen, but was preempted from saying anything as a Tevinter gave a shout. “Incoming!” he shouted, even as meteors from the Fade slammed into the ground further up the mountain.

The ground shook, causing Cassandra and Cullen’s horses to nearly panic, the seeker and former templar struggling to avoid getting thrown from their saddles. In that time, though, energies seething from a meteor coalesced into a shade, thankfully only of the lesser variety, but still a demon for all that.

“Shade!” the shout went up.

“Steel circle, now!” Aurelius barked.

The Imperial Templars charged forward, the two-headed snake coming apart and then back together into a ring around the demon. It roared as it realized its situation, claws striking sparks impotently off the Tevinters’ shields, before no less than four swords impaled it from multiple directions. The shade collapsed with a gurgle, then with a wet squelch, as a templar crushed it underfoot.

“…impressive.” Cassandra admitted grudgingly as she dismounted.

“Imperial Templars don’t use lyrium.” Cullen said as he did likewise. “It’s no surprise then that they find ways to get around that limitation.”

Cassandra grunted even as she adjusted the shield on her arm before drawing her own sword. “We will join you.” She firmly told Aurelius while marching up to him, in tones that brooked no dissent. “If it is your duty to find your magister, living or dead, ours is to do likewise for the Most Holy.”

“Understood, seeker.” Aurelius said before glancing curiously at Cullen as he approached.

“Knight-lieutenant,” Cassandra began. “This is Sir Cullen Rutherford, the former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall.”

“Ah,” Aurelius said with a bow. “Greetings, brother.”

“I’m not a templar anymore…” Cullen began before shaking his head, and instead offering a hand. “…but I suppose that shouldn’t matter…greetings.”

“Come,” Cassandra said, marching ahead even as Imperial and southern templar alike shook hands. “We still have a long ways to go yet, and the longer we delay, the less chances we have of finding the answers we all seek.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The march on the summit was long and arduous. The terrain was rough, the weather atrocious, and the waves of demons falling from the sky relentless. Indeed, the closer they got to the summit, the more demons they seemed to face.

“Shields up!” Aurelius barked. “Here they come! For the Imperium! In the Maker’s Name!”

Shades shrieked and howled as they threw themselves at the Tevinter shield wall, which buckled and strained at the demonic onslaught, even more so as wisps hurled pockets of noxious gas into their ranks. But the shield wall held, and the shades’ shrieks and howling grew pained as the Imperial Templars stabbed their swords through the gaps between their shields and pulled them back dripping with ichor. And as the shades fell back in pain and anger, the Imperial Templars advanced, step by step, shield up and swords drawn back.

Compared to the shades, the wisps were more annoying, as they could simply float to the flanks and rear, attacking the Imperial Templars from outside their reach. But with the Tevinters holding off the shades, Cassandra and Cullen were free to dash in to close with the wisps, and quickly taking them out before rejoining the templars.

“We’re almost there.” Aurelius said as he patted a fellow templar on the back in the aftermath, the young man looking pale as he downed a vial of elfroot elixir before coughing wetly, hit particularly hard by the wisps’ clouds of noxious gas. “Keep it up, brother.”

“Yes, knight-lieutenant.”

“More incoming!” the shout went up, and the Tevinters reformed the shield wall. And not a moment too soon, as more meteors fell from the Fade further up, and causing a small rockslide as the earth shook. Grunts and cursing filled the air as rocks pummeled at the Tevinters’ shields, followed soon after by the familiar screeching and howling of demons.

“Forward!” Aurelius shouted as he stabbed a shade through its face between his shield and that of a fellow templar to his right. The demon fell back in agony, crumpling to the ground as the knight-lieutenant bashed it with his shield, and then was turning to muck as the templars trampled it underfoot while making their forward.

“Not far now.” Cassandra shouted as she hopped over rocks to the side, having dealt with several wisps and a shade before returning to the templars. “Just over that ridge, and then around the one beyond it.”

“Then onwards we go.” Aurelius said, his fellow templars staying silent but for the crunching of rock and snow under their boots.

Surprisingly, there were no more demons along the last stretch of the approach, and just as surprisingly, they found several Chantry men-at-arms had arrived at the temple before them. “How’d they get here before us?” a templar grumbled.

“Are there other ways to the temple?” Aurelius asked.

“There are.” Cassandra said with a nod.

“Then that answers the question.” Aurelius said. “We took one route, and they took others…”

Words failed the knight-lieutenant then, as they crossed the threshold and saw what was left of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Most of it was a smoking crater of blackened rock, corpses burned down to the bone scattered across the ground. Some were curled up on the ground, burned where they lay as the flames washed over them. Others were in a standing posture, arms raised protectively in the direction of the inner sanctum, while others were turned away, seemingly having been killed so quickly they didn’t have time to react.

Surprisingly, though, parts of the inner sanctum, which included the holy of holies which once housed the ashes of Andraste, had survived. Or at least they appeared to have survived, as it seemed there was a second crater past the blasted passageway, obscured by great and jagged slabs of rock thrown up and out to claw at the sky, veined with unnaturally glowing veins of green.

More green trailed up from the crater beyond, what seemed like smoke climbing up into the sky, past floating rocks and broken statuary and through the tattered remains of the Veil into the Fade beyond.

“Hessarian’s beard, what could have caused this?” Aurelius breathed, before blinking and pulling himself back together. “Spread out! Look for any sign of the lady magister! And while we’re here, the White Divine as well!”

The templars did as commanded, Aurelius, Cassandra, and Cullen following after them soon after. Indeed, Cassandra and Cullen’s sheer shock at seeing what was left of the Temple of Sacred Ashes had so numbed them they couldn’t even react to what was normally seen as a heretical suffix to the Divine’s title by the Tevinter Imperium.

“Magister Rann!” Aurelius shouted as he jogged across the ruins, looking at each corpse closely and carefully. “If you’re alive, please answer! Magister Rann!”

“Most Holy!” Cassandra shouted in her turn while doing similarly. “Divine Justinia! Most Holy! Please answer me!”

“…Cassandra, look!” Cullen said, pointing to across the crater, where several men-at-arms were slowly making their way back out of the crater, and carrying a pair of bodies with them. Cold gripped their hearts as they ran over, barely registering the Tevinters closing around them as well.

“Seeker Cassandra!” one of the men-at-arms said in recognition, coming to a halt while their fellows gently laid down their burdens. One of them appeared to be an Elf, with blonde hair and olive skin, wearing black brocade that glimmered with gold thread, under a torn and tattered woolen cloak. The other, though…

Cassandra gasped. “What…how…” she breathed.

“Maker’s breath…” Cullen gasped, staring at Divine Justinia V in disbelief. Even then, they only knew from her ornate robes of office, otherwise looking like a completely different woman. “…what happened to her?”

“I…I don’t know…” Cassandra said, sinking down to her knees and gently pulling the Divine into her arms. “…we need to get her…them…out of here…is that the magister?”

“This is Magister Aeris Rann, yes.” Aurelius said, similarly carrying the unconscious Elf. “What was she doing with the White Divine?”

“They came out of the Fade together.” One of the men-at-arms said, and who flinched back as eyes turned his way. “We saw it. A…glowing, green hole in the world…it just opened up, and then the knife-ear jumps out carrying the Most Holy by the waist before the hole closes up behind them.”

“Is it really necessary to use such language?” Cullen acidly asked. “Especially as from the sound of things, the magister seemed to have saved the Most Holy from…whatever it was, that caused all this…and sent them into the Fade…”

“…I…yes, of course, my apologies, commander.” The man-at-arms apologetically said.

Further words failed them all, though, as with a thundering boom, the Fade erupted with power above them. More meteors fell out, and both the air and the ground trembled. Most importantly, the unconscious magister spasmed and cried out in pain even while unconscious, green light blazing from a hand.

“What is that?” Cassandra asked.

“I…don’t know.” Aurelius said, struggling to keep the magister still until she calmed down. “It wasn’t there when she left camp this morning! More importantly, this isn’t the best place for this, and we need to get them both to a healer, and soon!”

Cassandra nodded, and adjusted her grip on the Divine while getting up. “A fair point.” She said. “Let us move quickly.”

“Templars, fall in!” Aurelius shouted. “Protective echelon, around the lady magister and the…the Divine! Prepare to move out! We’re heading back to Haven!”

“You as well!” Cullen barked at the men-at-arms. “Support the templars, and cover their flanks and back!”

“Yes, commander!” the ranking man-at-arms said before turning to his fellows. “You heard the commander, flank the templars as they lead! Move it!”

The templars began marching back to Haven, with the Chantry men-at-arms guarding their flanks and rear, all protectively surrounding Cassandra and Aurelius, each carrying their quarry back down.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N

Update time!

Lavellan gets lucky, deciding to sneak around the Tevinters and avoiding getting blown up like she would otherwise be. Granted, her cover gets blown, but she has her life.

Meanwhile, the Tevinter templars manage to make an impression fighting to the temple. As does the magister in her turn, actually managing to save Divine Justinia.

 

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dragon Age franchise, it belongs to Bioware.

A Tevinter Inquisitor

Chapter 3​

The journey back down to Haven was just as arduous as the march up to the summit, even more so given Aurelius and Cassandra couldn’t join the fighting, weighed-down as they were by the magister and the White Divine, respectively. It fell to Cullen to command both the Imperial Templars and the Chantry men-at-arms, the constant threat of demons keeping any animosity between the Tevinters and the southerners buried by their shared desire to get to safety.

“…this used to be so much easier.” Cullen gasped out after a hard fight against a pack of shades and wisps.

“The perhaps you should resume…” Cassandra began only for Cullen to throw her a glare.

“No, seeker.” He firmly said. “I will not.”

Cassandra huffed but said nothing more, Cullen heading off to order the men back into formation. “What was that all about?” Aurelius asked.

“…I assume you are aware of the differences between you and your fellow templars here in the south?” Cassandra asked after a moment reflecting on whether or not to give a reply.

“Aside from answering to the Imperial Divine as opposed to the…Orlesian, Divine, you mean?” Aurelius asked back. “Yes, I am aware our southern brethren regularly take lyrium to gain a resistance to magic, and even the ability to cancel out spells. Abilities that the Imperial Circles of Magi would prefer we not share, no matter how useful they might be in the pursuit of our duties.”

“So, you are aware.” Cassandra said with a nod. “Then I shall get straight to the point: the commander has since left the order. And ever since then, he’s stopped taking lyrium…”

“…and lost all the abilities that it used to give him.” Aurelius said with a nod. “I see…and?”

“What do you mean?” Cassandra asked even as they continued down the mountainside.

“Is he well?” Aurelius asked. “While the Imperial Senate and Chantry alike have their own reasons to limit mine and my brethren’s abilities, I am also aware that using lyrium as they do takes its toll on our southern brethren. I’m not entirely certain about the details, but I hear it’s similar to a form of addiction, and once they retire or are discharged from the order, southern templars…don’t live long.”

Cassandra looked very uncomfortable. “You are not incorrect.” She eventually said. “Unlike mages, templars develop an addiction to lyrium over repeated use, and struggle to overcome it after they leave or are discharged from the order.”

“Huh…I assume the Chantry here in the south also regulates the lyrium trade just as the Imperial Chantry does in the Imperium?”

“You assume correctly.”

“…it seems as though the lyrium supply is at once a boon as much as it is a collar to control the templars here in the south.” Aurelius lightly observed.

“The same could be said for the Imperial Chantry keeping the Imperial Templars from having anti-magical abilities.” Cassandra wryly remarked in turn.

Aurelius laughed. “Fair, seeker.” He admitted. “Still…addiction, and withdrawal thereof…it is selfish of me, but I find myself thankful the Imperial Chantry didn’t require me to consume lyrium.”

Cassandra was silent for a long moment, and then she sighed. “That too is fair, knight-lieutenant.” She said.

“Going back to the commander,” Aurelius began. “Now that he has left the order and has stopped taking lyrium, is he well?”

Cassandra sighed. “That is between myself, and the commander.” She firmly said.

Aurelius bowed his head, respecting the privacy of his southern colleagues. He did tilt his head curiously, though. “If it’s not too much to ask,” he began. “Just what is a seeker, really? In the Imperium, all we know of you is that you are a…different, kind of templar. That is, where your typical templars serve as…guards, for the circles and major chantries, essentially the militant arm of the Orlesian Chantry, the seekers are an investigative arm thereof.”

“We all have our secrets, knight-lieutenant.” Cassandra said with a glance at Aurelius. “But without compromising my order’s inner workings, you and the Imperium are not entirely incorrect. We are, indeed, primarily an investigative arm for the Chantry. You are, however, incorrect in seeing us as a different kind of templar. The Seekers of Truth are a separate order, and answer to the Lord or Lady Seeker where the templars answer to the Knight-Vigilant.”

“And both answer to the Orlesian Divine.” Aurelius said with a nod. “Thank you for indulging me, seeker. I shan’t pry further into your order’s workings.”

Cassandra gave a grateful nod at that, the conversation dying for good as yet another pack of shades descended on them, held off only by the Imperial Templars’ shields.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

There were no cheers as their party finally arrived at Haven, only an ever so palpable sense of relief. And even that was hollow, between the Breach blazing with the light of the Fade overhead, the demons raining down over the landscape, and the state of both the magister and the White Divine.

They did, however, arrive in time to witness an argument between a bald mage and a fully-armored templar at the village gates. The former was an Elf to boot, dressed in rough clothing suitable for extended wear in the outdoors, while his staff was equally roughly-made if well-worn from use.

“What’s going on here?” Cullen barked.

“Apologies, commander,” the templar replied. “But this knife-ear here has been trying to force his way into the village.”

“Please,” the bald Elf began, and pointedly ignoring the racial slur hurled his way. “I have spent my life studying the Fade. Anything and everything I have uncovered, I offer to assist in light of the catastrophic threat looming over us all.”

“And like I said,” the templar at the gate heatedly snapped. “You’re bloody mad if you think we’ll just let a random apostate run around doing as he pleases!”

“Aren’t all southern mages apostates nowadays?” Aurelius asked. “More importantly, with almost all mages present having died at the Conclave, I’m not sure we can afford to turn away any help offered to us at the moment.”

“But, sir…!” the templar began to protest, only to break off as the Breach pulsed and the unconscious magister in the knight-lieutenant’s arms began to spasm. Simultaneously, the mark on her left hand flared angrily, blazing with green light that matched that of the Breach above.

At the sight, the Elven mage started, stepping forward only to be restrained by the templars. “Maker help us all…” Cullen breathed. “…let him pass!”

The templars did as commanded, the Elven mage approaching the magister before gently taking her marked hand. His eyes widened as he closely examined the mark, before waving a hand over it while muttering something under his breath.

“I am…uncertain,” he admitted. “As to how she could have gained this mark…I can tell you, however, that it seems connected to the Breach. Indeed, from what I’ve gathered, as well as her recent spasm, the mark flares whenever the Breach pulses that much wider.”

“…we’d also gathered as much.” Aurelius dryly said. “Can you get it off of her? Or at least stop it from causing the lady magister to convulse with every pulse?”

The Elf shook his head. “Not without further examination,” he replied. “And quickly at that: the mark is extremely unstable, and is not simply causing the magister great pain, but also strains her on a spiritual level. Unless it is stabilized quickly and soon, it will kill her.”

Aurelius set his jaw at that, clearly unwilling to risk someone under his charge…that, or to be held liable by the Imperial Senate for the death of one of their own. “Then let’s get her inside.” He said.

“What of the Most Holy?” Cassandra barked. “Is there anything you can do for her?”

The Elf immediately approached the unconscious Divine, and again waved a hand over her while muttering a spell under his breath. Much to Cassandra’s concern, he immediately frowned, and quickly began checking Divine Justinia’s arms, hands, and her neck.

“I assume she did not look like this before the Conclave’s destruction?” he finally asked.

“No.” Cassandra said with a shake of her head. “The Divine is barely in her late fifties, and her appearance matched that. But now…she looks as though she’s aged…ten, or twenty years, in the space of a few hours.”

“I suspected as much.” The Elf grimly said. “It seems her life force was drawn from her, and violently at that. I am sorry, but I can do nothing about that. I recommend making her comfortable, and gathering what people she needs to see before…before the time comes.”

For a moment, it looked as though Cassandra would erupt, but then she seemed to deflate, jerkily nodding before holding the Divine even tighter. “Was it blood magic?” Cullen instead demanded.

The Elf tilted his head. “Possibly,” he admitted. “Although I cannot find any evidence of the Divine having been exsanguinated. However, I cannot completely rule out the possibility, so you may wish for a Chantry sister to examine her more closely.”

“We can do that.” Cassandra said, finally pulling herself together. “Come, let us go to the chantry. The magister as well. The chantry will be warmer, and better protected than the Tevinter camp.”

Aurelius looked like he might protest, but he couldn’t argue with the seeker’s reasoning, and simply nodded before ordering his templars to follow. Cullen, though, coolly regarded the Elven mage. “What’s your name, anyhow?” he asked.

“Solas,” the mage replied. “My name is Solas.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Solas looked on dispassionately as the magister’s Elven servants undressed her, leaving her in her underclothes. Internally, though, he winced at the close and even intimate reminder of how his greatest victory was also his greatest defeat. All the Elves before him, each and every last one of them, were diminished echoes of what their ancestors had been, physically and spiritually.

Well, the magister to a lesser extent, at least spiritually. While he hadn’t lied when he’d said her life was at risk, it wasn’t as bad as he’d have expected of a mortal who’d somehow not only come into contact with his orb, but had been marked by it. Or, for that matter, if what he’d heard on the way to the chantry was true, had been sent physically into the Fade, and come out of it relatively unscathed.

“That,” he mused to himself. “Or she only survived the physical journey into the Fade thanks to the Anchor. However, that would not explain being able to endure receiving the Anchor in the first place…perhaps more hope exists for restoration than I initially thought.”

Solas politely nodded at the other Elves as they backed away, allowing him to approach the magister to even more closely examine the Anchor. “She is powerful, at least by the standards of this day and age.” Solas thought while murmuring spells to try and stabilize the Anchor. “Then again it should come as no surprise. For an Elf to rise to the position of one of Tevinter’s magisters…”

He whose name meant pride glanced at the magister’s face with an unreadable expression on his own. “I could simply take the Anchor, and leave this…childish mimic, of the Evanuris to her fate.” He thought, but then chased it away with revulsion.

The others would have done just that without hesitation, and Solas’ stomach turned at the belated realization of just how similar he could be to the false gods he’d spent his whole life fighting against.

That was always the plan, was it not?

Let that tainted magister from ancient Tevinter unlock the orb, and destroy himself in the process.

Then taking advantage of the resulting anarchy, I would reclaim my orb, and undo my greatest mistake.

Set this world ablaze with the fires of pure chaos, and from its ashes restore what had once been.

Again, Solas’ stomach turned at just how little difference there was between his plan and the plans any of the Evanuris would have conjured up in his place. Indeed, his plan was easily worthy of Elgar’nan, and was little different from how Elgar’nan had asserted his dominion over the world, until Mythal had come and taught him restraint, at least for a time.

It was revolting.

“But what else can I do?” Solas asked himself as he cast spells by rote, refining and fine-tuning the connection between the Anchor and the magister’s own magic, reducing the strain the former was inflicting on its bearer. “I cannot simply sit by and do nothing, watching as these…children, face constant oppression, reduced to shadows of what they should be. They are my responsibility, for it was my mistake, my triumph, that led them to become what they are now.”

Solas sighed and sat back, letting the magic of the Anchor and the magic of the magister settle. It was a crude and haphazard arrangement, and would need further adjustment, but for now it would do.

“How is she?” a voice asked, and he turned to see a dark-haired Elf step through the door.

“She will survive.” Solas replied. “But the mark bears more watching, and I may need to stabilize it further.”

“I see.” The other Elf said with a nod. “I’m told your name is Solas. My name is Koris Ralohana, and I am the magister’s apprentice.”

“A pleasure to meet you.” Solas said with a polite nod. “On further reflection, I don’t believe I have been told my patient’s name, only her rank of magister.”

“Then her name is Aeris Rann.” Koris said with a nod of his own.

“My thanks.” Solas said while turning back to his patient, eyes focused on the Anchor. “You’re all a long way away from home.”

“The magister and her allies in the Senate were concerned about this war between mages and templars in the south.” Koris replied. “Add to that civil war in Orlais, a building succession crisis in Nevarra, and tensions with Ferelden…we’re already at war with the Qunari. We do not need the rest of the continent falling into chaos which might then spill across the border into the Imperium.”

“Or for that matter,” Solas idly said. “For the Qunari to see such chaos as an opportunity to escalate the conflict.”

“Indeed.” Koris said with a nod, and for once Solas was sympathetic to the Imperium. For all that the Imperium seemed set on perpetuating all the ills of Elvhenan from the days before the Veil, they alone also seemed willing to stand against the abomination that was the Qun.

Everyone else outside the Imperium preferred to either look away or blind themselves with the delusion that the Qunari could be reasoned with, and that peaceful coexistence was possible.

Fools…

Solas blinked then, as a commotion could be heard from outside. Koris frowned and went to check with the templars guarding the door, while the servants murmured among themselves. For his part, Solas kept watch over his patient, especially as the Breach again rumbled and the magister spasmed from the Anchor flaring once more.

“Did something happen?” Solas asked as Koris arrived to help restrain the magister.

“The White Divine,” Koris replied, looking on as Solas quickly cast spells to further stabilize the Anchor. “She’s awoken.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was a few hours later that Cassandra came to visit, even as the skies outside the window turned dark with the coming of night. Or at least they should have gone dark, with the stars instead blotted out and the sky lit up with the ghastly green of the Breach.

“May I help you, seeker?” Solas asked while standing politely from his meal, brought to him by one of the Tevinter Elves. He’d learned a lot from short conversation with them, including the surprising discovery that none of them were slaves. Granted, that could just have been the magister bringing freedmen with her to avoid complications from traveling with slaves outside the Imperium, but it bore further investigation.

“How is the magister?” Cassandra asked without preamble.

“She will live.” Solas said. “Her magic is quite powerful, and that has helped immeasurably with stabilizing the mark. I will need to further refine it, but it should hold.”

As if on cue, the Breach rumbled, and the Anchor flared, causing the magister to again spasm, though less so than before. “You are certain?” Cassandra asked as Solas checked on his patient.

Solas sighed. “I can stabilize the mark,” he began. “But not completely until the Breach is either closed or halted from further expansion.”

Cassandra blinked and stepped closer. “And you have ideas on how this could be done?” she asked.

Solas nodded. “I previously told you how the mark is tied with the Breach, and you have observed this yourself.” He said. “I believe that we can use this connection to either contain or even close the Breach, as well as the rifts that would have opened up nearby from the strain on the Veil from the Breach.”

“That is…good news.” Cassandra breathed. “One we are desperately short of at present…you have my thanks, Solas.”

Solas blinked, and then nodded in acknowledgement. “You are welcome, seeker.” He said. “However, first we must wait for the magister to awaken from her slumber.”

“We may not have much time.” Cassandra pointed out. “Is there any way to awaken her?”

“…it would be inadvisable,” Solas said after a moment’s thought. “But it can be done. However, I would recommend only doing so as a last resort, and only after I further stabilize the mark.”

“Noted.” Cassandra said with a nod. “Do what you can, but we cannot wait overlong, not when all our fates rest on her shoulders.”

Solas glanced curiously at Cassandra at that, but the seeker was already leaving. Turning back to his patient, Solas mused over his plans, both with regard to his patient, and his overarching goals. It wasn’t long before Koris arrived, though, and looking rather agitated.

“You’ve been gone for quite some time.” Solas observed. “Has something happened?”

“I needed to calm things down and explain them to my countrymen at our camp.” Koris replied. “You already know that the White Divine woke up earlier, didn’t you?”

“I did, yes.” Solas replied.

“Well, she’s ordered the formation of something called the Inquisition,” Koris continued. “And after having what she remembers of recent events put to paper, she’s ordered Magister Rann be proclaimed the Sword of the Maker.”

“I…see…” Solas said, caught by surprise by such a development. “…and her reasoning for making such a decision?”

“The White Divine can’t quite remember what caused the Breach,” Koris said. “Only that it sent her and the magister physically into the Fade. Apparently, they ran into all sorts of demons there, but the magister was able to fend them off until both she and the White Divine could find a way back into reality.”

“Ah…so, the White Divine has inferred the hand of a god acting through your mentor,” Solas said while nodding slowly. “And given her a title and authority for it.”

Koris made a disgusted noise. “This is going to cause a mess,” he said. “Whether here or back home.”

Solas just hummed in response. It wasn’t really that surprising, that people turned to faith in higher powers, whether or not there actually was a basis for it, to provide answers – or seeming answers – in times of crisis and hardship. He’d seen it before, after all, even lived it. It was the story of the Evanuris, and of himself.

Time would tell if it would follow the same script he remembered.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N

And he arrives, the Dread Wolf, whose name is pride.

Ironic, isn’t it, that Solas’ plan to restore the world of the Elves is basically the same as what allowed Elgar’nan to claim the position of First Among the Gods? Basically, burn the world to a crisp, and rule over the ashes…

…well, Solas doesn’t plan to rule over the ashes, but that’s largely academic compared to the rest of the details. Of course, once he realizes this, he’s naturally horrified at how little difference there is between him and the Evanuris when all is said and done. Unfortunately, and as shown by post-Trespasser novels, Solas is – ironically – too responsible to stop. By freeing the Elves from the Evanuris he diminished them, and reduced them to slaves to Humans. He has to do something about it, he just can’t think of a better way beyond tearing down the Veil, hence him practically pleading to a friendly Inquisitor to show him that better way.

 

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dragon Age franchise, it belongs to Bioware.

A Tevinter Inquisitor

Chapter 4​

Awareness tugged through the darkness, accompanied by literally nerve-wracking bursts of pain as though lightning was tearing through her flesh. That felt wrong, the wrongness wearing away at the thoughtless miasma that clouded her mind.

Scrunching up her eyes, Magister Aeris Rann of the Tevinter Imperium blinked awake, and found herself staring up at a rough stone ceiling. Slowly glancing at her surroundings, she saw she was in a candlelit room of some kind, and most definitely not in her and her fellow Tevinters’ pavilion.

“What the…?” she muttered while beginning to rise, and drawing the attention of her attendants.

“My lady!” one of them said, while the others rushed away.

“Jaina…what’s happened…where is…?” Aeris began before another burst of pain consumed her left arm. No…not her left arm…her left hand…a burning green…something, that had latched onto it and was now tearing at her very being.

Quickly shoving Jaina away for her own safety, Aeris focused her power on the mark, chanting in Old Tevene under her breath. Her first attempt to ward against it shattered, though, only because there were already wards in place. Blinking in surprise, Aeris cast several spells to study the words, and literally gaped at the sheer…artistry, of their configuration. Instead of simply being layered onto and around the mark - whatever it was - they had been woven around its edges, and then carefully sutured into the bindings between it and her metaphysical being. This allowed the wards to limit the mark’s effect on her, with the mark otherwise having consumed - possibly literally, even - her before she had awoken.

It also offered clues into the nature of the mark, and which honestly perplexed Aeris. “It’s not a mark at all.” she thought. “It’s more like a vibration in the fabric of reality itself, and somehow tethered to both myself and…the Veil? But…how and why would…”

Aeris’ musings on the mark ended as her attendants returned, accompanied by a stern-faced woman in dark armor with the markings of the Seekers of Truth. It took the magister only a moment to recognize her as Princess Cassandra Pentaghast, and the so-called Right Hand of the Divine.

“Praise the Maker, you’re awake!” Cassandra breathed. “What do you remember?”

“I…what do I remember?” Aeris echoed in confusion, before blinking as recollection slammed into her. “I…I remember being at the Conclave…the Divine had called a recess but then I…”

Aeris paused and blinked as she remembered her contracted spirit showing her enthralled Wardens slaying the White Divine’s guards before dragging the woman away. “...I went to mingle…” she said, deciding not to mention she had a contracted spirit, considering Thedosian opinions on such things. “...but then I encountered…thralls.”

“Thralls?” Cassandra echoed.

“Yes, thralls.” Aeris said with a nod, and just as quickly deciding to cover for the Grey Wardens. They were as much victims in this as the White Divine had been, and she had no desire to potentially drag the whole order’s face through the mud in case the Thedosians lost their heads on account of a few wardens being turned against the White Divine. “Soldiers bound by blood magic. I hid myself with magic, and followed the trail of blood to find the Divine being…sacrificed, in some kind of ritual. And then…”

Aeris blinked, slowly raising a hand to her head as her eyes widened. Ignoring Cassandra’s attempt to get her to continue, she got up and began to pace, eyes narrowed in thought as inwardly she fought to keep control. Her memories…her memories had been tampered with…but how…no, the how was easily deduced…magic…either by a powerful mage, or an equally powerful demon…

“...I don’t remember…” she finally said while turning back to Cassandra. “...something has tampered with my memories.”

Cassandra gave an understanding nod. “I understand.” she said. “The Most Holy said something similar, although it seems she remembered more than you do. Both you and her were cast into the Fade by this ritual you mentioned, and there you saved her from demons.”

“Wait, what?” Aeris asked in shock and disbelief. “The Fade? We were literally in the Fade? How is that possible? The amount of power needed to physically enter it…”

Aeris trailed off, remembering who or rather what she was. It seems Cassandra understood, though, as she quickly reassured the magister. “Rest assured, my lady magister, you are above suspicion.” she said. “The Most Holy has firmly vouched for you, and has made it clear you are in no way responsible for the recent incident.”

“...my thanks to her then.” Aeris said after a moment. “Still, to be cast into the Fade, rescuing the Divine, and fighting demons…”

“It does beggar belief, doesn’t it?” Cassandra asked. “Come, it is better to see in person.”

Without another word, Cassandra turned and strode out of the room, Aeris following after her and gratefully taking her staff from Jaina. From there, she found herself climbing up into Haven’s chantry, and then stepping outside, gaped once more at a colossal tear in the Veil hanging high in the sky above the mountains.

“We call it the Breach,” Cassandra softly said. “A massive tear in the Veil that separates this world from that of demons, through which they can enter into this world.”

“...how is this possible?” Aeris breathed. “Not even the Magisters Sidereal tore the Veil to this extent when they invaded the Golden City over a thousand years ago.”

“We do not know.” Cassandra replied. “You mentioned a ritual…”

“A ritual by…someone…” Aeris interrupted, resisting the urge to grind her teeth at someone or something poking holes through her memories for their convenience. “...sacrificing the Divine. But, with all due respect, the Divine for all her importance is just one woman. Even if she was drained of all life, well, she’s just one woman. No offense…”

“None taken, I assure you.” Cassandra said with a reassuring nod. “And I see your point. Yes, the Most Holy, even had she had died, should not have been enough to rend the Veil to this extent. Even the Magisters Sidereal had to sacrifice thousands of slaves to reach the Golden City, and as you said, they never caused this much damage.”

Aeris said nothing, least of all the theoreticals to anyone with in-depth knowledge that it would actually have taken tens of thousands of sacrificed slaves to allow all seven Magisters Sidereal to reach the Golden City. Assuming the old story was true, of course, which the Imperial Chantry officially denied. Unofficially, though…? Now that was something else.

Anything else she might have thought or said became as nothing as the Breach pulsed, meteors seemed to fall from its depths in a rain of fire, and the mark on her hand similarly pulsed as though in response. Aeris grit her teeth and staggered in pain, glancing down at the mark and eyeing both it and its wards.

“Every time the Breach expands,” Cassandra explained while helping Aeris stay on her feet. “Your mark grows and it is slowly killing you. But…it may also be the key to stopping this.”

“Sympathetic magic…” Aeris breathed. “...the mark is somehow tied to the Breach…yes, I can see what you mean.”

Cassandra nodded. “First, however,” she said. “It must be tested on something smaller than the Breach.”

“Unsurprising,” Aeris conceded. “That something as destructive as the Breach has caused smaller tears in the Veil nearby. Very well…I will assist you. Aside from my own life, this Breach if not sealed or at least contained, will continue to grow until it consumes the whole world, including my own country.”

Cassandra gave a smile of relief. “You have my thanks.” she said.

Aeris nodded before narrowing her eyes. “Then we will find out who is responsible for this,” she said. “And make them pay.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“It’s the Sword of the Maker!”

“Our prayers go with you!”

“Maker be with you, my lady!’

“Sword of the Maker…?” Aeris demanded as she trailed after Cassandra, having taken the time to put on some armor just in case before leaving Haven. There were demons about, literally falling out of the Breach and other tears in the Veil nearby, and she wasn’t about to go and face them without putting something between their claws and her skin first.

Just a hauberk of dwarf-forged mail over her underclothes, really, simple and straightforward, and not really something one would expect of a magister. Appearances could be deceiving, however, as each of the rings was made with an alloy of silverite and steel and folded with lyrium to make it virtually unbreakable like all true dwarven armor.

A cap of the same material and a pair of greaves crafted from dracolisk leather rounded it out, with Aeris wearing her magister’s cloak and hood over it all. Other magisters might prefer hideously-ornate things, but most of them had never fought a proper battle before. It might draw attention during a parade, but that was the last thing you wanted on a battlefield.

Aeris might not stand out much beside her pointed ears and bare feet, but she was alive, which was more than what many who’d gone to Seheron could say.

Or couldn’t say anything at all, as it were.

“It was the Most Holy’s decision.” Cassandra explained. “She believed your intervention at the start of this incident was guided by divine will. And with that mark you now bear, and the historical precedent of Archon Hessarian, ‘Sword of the Maker’ seemed an appropriate appellation.”

“That’s just…ugh!” Aeris spluttered in disbelief before trailing off with a disgusted noise. “We can discuss this later, when the world isn’t at risk of getting dragged into the abyss.”

“I agree.” Cassandra said, looking sympathetic and even a little approving at the magister’s apparent reluctance to bear such a mantle.

The journey to the target rift was mostly quiet, aside from the rustle of branches in the mountain winds, the rumbling of the Breach overhead, the distant sound of fighting and demonic howls and screeches, and soldiers murmuring in awe and reverence as the magister and seeker passed them by. The magister was far from flattered, however, and the arrival of demons provided much needed stress relief.

Unfortunately, they arrived in the form of a meteor that slammed into the bridge just as they were crossing.

“Demons!” Cassandra barked as she got up on her feet, and quickly drawing her sword and brandishing her shield, advanced on one of two shades which coalesced out of the crater’s shadows. “Stand ready!”

Aeris just glanced dispassionately at the other shade, letting it finish pulling itself together first. Then it howled and glided towards her, prompting a raised eyebrow and a mental gesture. With the crack of displaced air, lightning split the sky and struck the shade, which howled in agony as its flesh was seared with intolerable heat and power. But the magister wasn’t done yet.

Summoning lightning from the Fade was quite easy, especially with the Veil so thin, but raising simple spells into an art form was practically a requirement for any mage worthy of note in the Imperium. As the impression of the lightning bolt lingered in the Fade, the spell echoed that impression and with another crack of displaced air, a second lightning bolt split the sky and struck the shade.

The demon reeled and slumped against the ground, its demonic flesh smoking and oozing black ichor. Then Aeris raised her free hand, drawing lingering sparks of power from the air into her palm, and used it to spark a lightning bolt into existence. Normally it’d take a couple of seconds to charge up lightning like this, but the spark allowed her to cast instantly.

With a final wail, the shade exploded into chunks of burning flesh and boiling ichor.

“Magister, are you alright?” Cassandra asked as she hurried over.

“I am.” Aeris assured her. “The demon didn’t even manage to get close.”

“So I see.” Cassandra said, eyeing its smoking remains with an appraising eye. “Well, I suppose I should not be surprised…let us proceed…”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“There, the rift! And more demons! We must assist them!”

Cassandra dove into the fray, but Aeris stood her ground, taking a moment to take in the battlefield. On one side, mostly Chantry men-at-arms, but also a scattering of templars, both southern and Imperial, along with a bald Elf and a Dwarf, the latter armed with a singularly-impressive crossbow. Then of course there were demons, shades again, sliding out of the rift in pulses of light.

Aeris clicked her tongue, and held out her hands. Sparks flickered from and between her fingers, before lightning pooled in her palms and crackled around and over her body. Then with a crackling chatter that set men’s teeth on edge, she unleashed the storm of lightning across the entire battlefield. Men, Elf, and Dwarf all froze in shock and disbelief while the shades screamed in agony as the lightning held them in place and tore at them with blazing arcs of light.

For several seconds the storm raged, until at last it petered out. About half the demons had been banished, reduced to smoking puddles of ooze that quickly faded out of existence, but the rest were recovering and preparing to resume the fight even with their injuries. Cassandra and the warriors prepared to attack, while the bald Elf readied a spell of his own, but Aeris beat them all to the punch.

Drawing in the lingering sparks of lightning-attuned mana in the area, she sparked her own spell, removing the need to charge up the next bolt and fired it in an instant. It arced from one shade to another, the demons howling in pain and dismay as their flesh failed and either exploded or melted down into piles of ooze.

“Well, don’t look so shocked.” Aeris quipped as she hopped down and crossed the battlefield under the shocked and awed eyes of everyone present. Well, no. There was that bald Elf, who was now looking at her with a veiled look of appraisal.

How very curious.

But a question for later.

First things first, sympathetic magic, yes?

Let’s give it a shot.

Aeris held out her marked hand towards the rift, and pushed her magic into the mark. Almost immediately, a tendril of light shot out and linked itself to the rift, which roiled around even as the magister narrowed her eyes in thought.

It was like…yes, like a key fitting a lock. That, or using pincers to grab hold of a tear in a piece of fabric, and then forcing them together, sew the tear closed.

With that analogy in mind, Aeris pulled the rift shut/turned the key/cauterized the very fabric of reality. Thunder boomed as air was displaced violently by the rift’s collapse, but the Veil…

…it was back to normal.

Here at least. In the skies above, the Breach continued to glare and spin ominously.

Cheers went up at the sight, but Aeris paid it no mind. Instead, she stared at the mark on her hand, the act of sealing the rift allowing her to deduce much more about its nature, and her deductions made her very wary.

“That was very impressive.” the bald Elf congratulated her. “But perhaps I should have expected nothing less from a magister of the Tevinter Imperium.”

Aeris hummed and raised an eyebrow. “He means, ‘thank you for saving all our skins, magister’.” the Dwarf said as he folded up his crossbow and stowed it behind his back. “Of course, it’s the least you could do, considering he did save your life, from what I gather.”

The pieces clicked together, and Aeris glanced back at the Elf. “You were responsible for warding the mark?” she asked.

“I did the best I could.” the Elf said with a nod.

“The best you could do is a marvelous piece of work.” Aeris remarked. “Such a degree of precise metaphysical surgery…I never expected to see such outside the Imperial Circles of Magi.”

“I am very flattered to hear that.”

“And of course, you have my thanks, for saving my life.” Aeris said with a small bow.

The other Elf smiled. “Thank me if you manage to close the Breach without killing yourself in the process,” he said. “For it seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

“Not by choice.” Aeris said with a scowl. “I…do not know how I came by this mark, or how it even exists in the first place. It’s very clearly connected to the Breach, and may even be connected to how it was opened in the first place. The only question is, how? The amount of power needed to open such a thing…the ancient magisters breached the Veil before, but never to this extent!”

“An excellent question,” the other Elf agreed. “We would do well to find the answer once the immediate danger is passed.”

“But for now,” the Dwarf chimed in. “We focus on keeping more demons from popping out of that big hole in the sky.”

“Absolutely not!” Cassandra burst in. “Your help is appreciated, Varric…”

Aeris looked on with mild amusement as the seeker and the Dwarf argued, before turning back to the other Elf. “My name is Solas,” he began. “If there are to be any introductions.”

“Solas…?” Aeris echoed in surprise.

“Yes, that is correct.” Solas said.

“It means ‘pride’ in the old tongue, does it not?” Aeris asked.

“So it does.” Solas confirmed, and Aeris nodded.

“My apologies for any offense caused,” she said. “It was not intended. I am Aeris Rann, Magister of the Tevinter Imperium, and official envoy to the Divine Conclave.”

“Then I am in esteemed company,” Solas said. “Considering the identities of everyone else present.”

He trailed off then, as Cassandra stalked off in disgust and the Dwarf approached. “Varric Tethras,” he introduced himself. “Author…”

“Wait,” Aeris interrupted. “The Varric Tethras? Author of The Tale of the Champion, and trusted companion of the Champion of Kirkwall, Marian Hawke?”

“Oh,” Varric said, his grin growing. “I’ve met a fan, it seems.”

“...when this is all over,” Aeris said. “You need to pass by the Tevinter camp. A lot of people will be happy to meet you…that, and I need you to sign my copy of The Tale of the Champion.”

“Well, I suppose it shouldn’t come as a surprise.” Varric said with theatrical reluctance, to Solas’ amusement. “I already knew that book sold well in Tevinter, and that Hawke’s something of a celebrity there. Tevinters love Qunari-killers.”

“Celebrity?” Aeris echoed. “Try hero. If she’d gone to the Imperium instead of up and vanishing after everything that had happened at Kirkwall, your friend would have been paraded in the Archon’s chariot through the Via Triumphalis at Minrathous.”

“Really, wow…shame about that…”

“As interesting as this is,” Cassandra said with a cough. “Perhaps we should focus on the matter at hand?”

“Yes, of course.” Aeris said with a nod before gesturing at the Imperial Templars present, now all-business and giving orders with the ease of long practice. “Hold here, and tend to the injured. Send a pair of runners back to the village, and report the situation. In the meantime, we will push ahead, to the forward camp.”

“Yes, my lady!” the Imperial Templars said with salutes, their southern brethren doing likewise on pure reflex, and the men-at-arms doing so a heartbeat later, deferring both to her air of authority and the official position given her by the Divine.

Aeris nodded, and turned back to Cassandra, Solas, and Varric. “Shall we?” she asked.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N

The magister awakens, and immediately shakes things up. Starting by deducing more about the mark than any of the canon Inquisitors ever did by the end of the game, followed by her casually throwing lightning around like there’s no tomorrow.

Naturally, she’s a big fan of Varric. Well, Hawke. I mean, she’s fought the Qunari on Seheron and Rivain, and her whole reason in the south was to try and gauge support and opinions for a united front between Tevinter and Thedas against the Qun. Back to Hawke, she killed the Arishok at Kirkwall. It’d be more surprising if Aeris - and other Tevinters - didn’t see her as a bona fide hero. Valos atredum, as the Dwarves of Orzammar call it, the favor of the ancestors.