Cullen wondered how much faith had waned within the templar order as he watched his soldiers train.
As was customary, the commander stood on the outskirts of Haven, holding the endless reports on patrol progress and new recruitments. The sheer volume of information did not trouble him; on the contrary, he welcomed it. Since he had decided to fight his addiction to lyrium, keeping his mind occupied to the point of exhaustion had become his best defense against withdrawal.
To many, he seemed more like a machine than a commander, but he knew the truth was simpler and more human… he was not hardened by a lack of feeling, but because he fled from his own weaknesses.
As commander of the Inquisition, Cullen was responsible for organizing the army, designing military strategy, securing the defense of the settlement, and coordinating troops, patrols, and potential sieges. Many of these duties, for now, existed more in theory than in practice. No siege had yet been necessary, and the organization of the army remained relatively straightforward, since it was still small—though growing exponentially.
The problem was not that recruitment was flourishing (that was to be expected in times of war), but rather the composition of the troops themselves. The bulk of the army consisted of a mixed assortment: former templars; aging Fereldan soldiers who, by all rights, should no longer be in active service but remained nonetheless; volunteers who had to be trained from scratch; and, most problematic of all, mercenaries—who arrived with prior experience… and an almost innate insubordination.
He was the absolute military authority. Everything related to martial matters passed through him. Although there was a high operational command with specific functions (designed precisely to relieve him of unmanageable responsibilities), he frequently interfered to ensure everything was done as it should be. That is, with a clear objective… to protect the innocent and exercise a level of military mastery that left no room for error.
Cullen did not want merely a large number of troops. He wanted competent soldiers—prepared enough to enter battle with confidence and maximize their chances of survival. He would not send inexperienced men to their deaths. But he also knew he could not turn everyone into veterans, because experience came with years, and that—time—was precisely what they lacked.
Still, he could do something. He could drown them in military theory. He could grind them down with constant training. And that was exactly what he did.
The problem arose when he also had to deal with mages.
Unlike most templars, Cullen had always shown greater consideration toward them. From his first templar posting at the Ferelden Circle of Magi, he had never been able to see mages as enemies or potential abominations. To him, they had always been people… as dangerous as he himself could be with a sword in hand.
That outlook had placed him in extreme situations within the Circle. He broke rules at far too young an age and, without realizing it, began to stray from a path he had believed to be solid. He bore no resentment toward the memory of Praianna or the love he had felt for her. It was true that it had taken him years of introspection to forgive himself for believing that, in falling in love with a mage, he had overlooked signs of blood magic within Kinloch Hold. But time—and above all his experience in Kirkwall and the disaster of the Circle—had taught him something different: that corruption did not reside in a single person, nor even in magic itself, but in the entire system that sought to control it.
That was why he had left the order before the final schism.
Even so, that did not mean he had left his demons behind. They were still there, silent, influencing his doubts when he least desired it. That was why he hesitated more than he should around Elentari. Not because of what she represented… but because the Herald of Andraste was an elven spellcaster.
Once again, fate seemed to place arcane forces in his path, and as in the past, Cullen did not look upon her with contempt or distrust. He saw her for what she was—a young woman dragged into the center of a disaster far greater than herself, whose customs he scarcely understood. And he wanted to make sure she was protected.
For him, the problem was not Elentari.
The problem was Solas.
The apostate mage had something. That indefinable something that made Cullen's skin prickle. He did not consider Solas evil, nor a potential traitor to the cause; nor did he believe he harbored hidden intentions against the Inquisition. And yet, there was something about him that stirred Cullen's old templar instincts… and he could not determine what it was.
Perhaps that was why he had attempted to establish dialogue with the elf on more than one occasion. And perhaps for the same reason, he had failed. To Cullen, it was clear he had gone about it the wrong way. Solas remained hermetic, answering questions politely but never opening a real conversation. There was no exchange—only measured replies.
Cassandra, for her part, exhausted him trying to convince him of Solas's good intentions. But that was not the point. Cullen did not suspect dark motives or veiled conspiracies. It was something else. Something subtler. It was that sensation he had once ignored among mages… and which had ended in disaster at Kinloch. He had felt it again in Kirkwall, and that time he had not dismissed it; instead, he had faced it, aligned himself with Hawke, and risen against his own superior, Knight-Commander Meredith. And now Solas provoked that same unease once more.
That was why, when Leliana approached him early that morning with a ruling that allowed Solas to act as arcane mentor to the Herald of Andraste—guiding her in the study of Rift Magic—Cullen immediately recognized an opportunity to accompany them as an observer. Not with the intention of controlling them, and certainly not mistreating them, but to ensure that the arcane power of both could flow freely, supported by a former templar should it become necessary. In that sense, Leliana's proposal struck him as entirely coherent.
Solas was an elven mage, like Elentari, but he also possessed a measured, centered personality and seemed to have a deep understanding of magic. Cullen had to admit that, when it came to elven culture, Solas likely knew more than anyone else in the Inquisition. And he was almost certain that Elentari would feel comfortable learning from someone like him.
For all these reasons, he accepted Leliana's request to keep them under his watch. He knew Solas would object, but trusted that once the protective intention behind his presence was understood, the mage would eventually accept it… perhaps even appreciate it. That, deep down, part of him also wished to evaluate Solas was something he preferred not to admit. Not even to himself.
The sound of cheerful laughter reached the commander's ears. He recognized the voice immediately—it was Elentari. Turning his head, he saw the two elves in the distance, chatting about something that clearly amused them… while she smiled without restraint, Solas seemed comfortable at her side. He adopted a relaxed posture Cullen had never seen from the apostate mage, though it was already evident that this ease was not something he shared with him.
When the two came close enough to require his attention, it was Elentari who raised a hand and, still smiling, approached him with quicker steps.
- Good morning, Cullen.
She seemed unusually cheerful today.
- Good morning, Elentari. - He made sure to call her by her name rather than her title, as she had asked. Then he looked to Solas, who inclined his head slightly—his usual greeting. - Good morning, Solas.
- Good morning.
Not another word.
- Leliana said you wanted to see us. - she went straight to the point. - What's going on? Everything alright with the troops? - Without giving him time to answer, she took the pack from her shoulders, set it down in the snow, crouched, and pulled several papers from inside. Cullen immediately recognized the organizational chart he had prepared at her request to help her understand the military hierarchy within the Inquisition.
Elentari stood again and searched through the papers, where neat marginal notes were visible—handwriting he suspected was hers.
- I took the liberty of meeting some of the senior officers you listed on the chart. Ser Rylen, for example… - Cullen nodded. - He's a former templar, isn't he? - He nodded again. - And the lieutenant… what was his name? - She searched through her notes.
- I'll simplify it. - Cullen interjected. - He's also a former templar. - She nodded and looked up. - Like most of my men in senior operational positions.
- Exactly. - she agreed. - I've noticed that the Inquisition's military hierarchy is governed by templars.
- Former templars, Elentari. - he corrected. She crossed her arms. - Men I have worked with in the past and whom I trust. They are qualified for their positions and respect the chain of command. They will do nothing I do not approve. I answer for their actions, and I do so with honor.
- I'm not questioning your decisions, but that makes us look like the armed arm of the Chantry. Don't you think?
- We are not. And I do not care how it looks to outsiders. Those men are there for their abilities, not religious purposes. - His reply was sharp. A dense silence filled the space between the three. Cullen was surprised that Solas had not spoken; he glanced at him and saw the apostate enjoying the debate with a faint, mocking smile.
Cullen sighed, but clarified nonetheless.
- And with all due respect, I remind you that I do not take tactical orders from you. You are the Herald of Andraste, but not the supreme authority of the Inquisition.
She looked struck by the response.
- I didn't say it to upset you… - she faltered. - I said it because during my visit to the Val Royeaux market we were accused of being a threat to society, and it was the templars themselves who declared us heretics—not only before the religious leadership, but also the civilians. - She paused, visibly uncomfortable. - Forgive me if I seem overwhelmed, I'm just trying to find the right words…
- I regret my earlier tone, Elentari. - the commander apologized. It was clear to him that his firmness had been too harsh a blow. He should not forget that she was not a soldier and unaccustomed to such manner.
Solas still did not speak. Cullen looked at him again; now the apostate was visibly serious.
- I only wanted to ask if you had any idea what Lord Seeker Lucius might be plotting, - she clarified - but it's obvious you don't. Even Cassandra couldn't say anything concrete.
- From your report I know that the largest garrison of Orlesian templar forces has withdrawn from the White Spire to an unknown location, with the intention of becoming a new military and religious force. - he replied. - The templars have rebelled against the Chantry across all orders of Thedas. Some still call themselves 'loyal,' but they are so few they can no longer even be called 'the Order.'
He sighed, regretful of his earlier outburst.
It was still difficult for him to separate past trauma from present mages. Nightmares plagued him every night, and memories of the tortures he had endured only intensified now that he no longer consumed lyrium. She and Solas were mages, and that unsettled him because the wounds were still open. Even so, he tried to be better than his fears and not let pain dictate his judgment.
He ran a hand through his hair, flattening it. He always did that when nervous. That, or gently kicking the snow.
Silence stretched between the three. He was not going to apologize for the content of his words—perhaps for the tone—but when he was about to speak, she interrupted him.
- Well, and… - she hesitated again, turned to Solas. The elf inclined his head gently, urging her to speak, and she nodded. There was clear trust between the two. - Well… you tell us. - She looked at him. - Why are we here?
The question caught him off guard. Cullen had assumed Leliana had informed them.
- Uh… - Cullen stammered. - Didn't Leliana speak with you?
- If the Herald has no objection to my interruption… - Solas said before continuing. Cullen noticed he looked to Elentari first. She held his gaze; there was a tacit understanding between them that the commander missed. Then Elentari nodded, and the mage continued.
- Leliana met with me to inform me of the investigation's results, Commander. But she did not mention that I was to report to you afterward. - he added, fixing him with a cold stare. - If I was meant to personally deliver the report she asked me to complete, I apologize for not doing so. She did not indicate it. I delivered it directly to the spymaster.
- Complete the investigation? - Cullen frowned, disoriented. - You? The subject of the investigation completed it?
Solas did not seem uncomfortable or surprised. Only stoic. - Leliana asked me to describe in detail the arcane projection technique I used that night during the templars' attack.
- Oh… - Cullen murmured. Suddenly, things began to make sense. - I see.
He fell silent for a moment, ordering the pieces.
- I understand… - he muttered, more to himself than to the two mages. - After your explanation, she concluded that you have notable mastery over arcane currents linked to the rifts and the Breach, correct? - He looked up at the apostate. - Rift Magic?
He noticed Solas tense slightly. Cullen sighed and turned away, calling to a soldier and asking him to fetch the document he had left on the table.
- I imagine Leliana was overwhelmed trying to contact the Crown about the bann issue I mentioned. - he said, returning his attention to Elentari. - It's likely she forgot to inform you of the exact reason for our meeting.
It was likely that the situation was entirely deliberate. All three of them knew it.
- Likely. - she agreed.
Solas crossed his arms.
- Leliana has issued a Ruling of Arcane Aptitude and Tutorship Assignment… - Cullen began to explain, when the soldier arrived at a trot and handed him the document.
Elentari raised her brows at the heading and stepped closer to him, leaning in to see better. Cullen handed it to her.
Then he looked at Solas and continued.
- Apparently, the interrogation you mentioned also involved an evaluation of you. - he let a few seconds pass, then concluded. - The objective was to determine your arcane capacity and conclude that you are the most suitable candidate to train our Herald.
This time it was the mage who stepped forward, positioning himself just behind Elentari's shoulder, focusing on the document.
- 'Arcane Evaluation Report' - she read aloud. - 'Attached Resolution.' - She searched through the pages.
- May I? - Solas extended a hand and took the resolution. He read it in silence, and Cullen noted his eyes narrow—he seemed displeased. - It appears… our spymaster has made the decision without consulting anyone. - he paused, visibly annoyed. - She has redefined my role within the Inquisition. I will now also serve as Elentari's arcane tutor.
- It is an honor, Solas. - Cullen snapped with command authority, feeling insulted by the apostate's disdain.
- You do not have to do it if you do not wish to. - she interjected quickly. Solas turned to her, and the hardness in his eyes softened when he met hers. He sighed.
- No. I have no objection to instructing you. - he finally replied, jaw tightening. - What troubles me is the manner in which I am being conditioned.
- What other manner do you expect? - Cullen questioned. - You are being given a written ruling.
- Precisely… - Solas murmured. - And I appreciate the honor.
He did not sound honored at all. The way he clenched the papers made that clear. Elentari and the apostate exchanged a look; he sighed again, yielding once more. He handed the papers back and looked to Cullen.
- Very well, Commander… you tell me. When do we begin the training?