Val Royeaux, capital city of Orlais, one of the largest cities in Thedas and home to the Andrastian Chantry. And full of little shits.
A woman, face hidden behind a mask, screams as we approach the large group in the middle of the city.
Val Royeaux, it seems, is scared of us.
Assembled just by the tall iron gates towards the docks are a bunch of Orlesians, gossiping and yelping amongst themselves. On a wooden stage stands a Chantry cleric, with Templars standing guard around her. She swings her arms, trying to make a point.
I hear Cassandra let out an "ugh", and I feel exactly the same way.
The crowd gasps when they see us, but the cleric keeps ranting, "Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me! Together we mourn the Divine. Her beautiful heart was silenced by treachery." The cleric's eyes settle on me as I stand in front of the wooden stage. "You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more."
I can feel every pair of eyes turn to me and I swallow down the rising fear.
"Behold! The so-called Herald of Andraste. The murderer of the Divine, claiming to rise where our beloved fell. It's all false. No servant of anything beyond her selfish greed."
I look around before speaking. The eyes behind those masks glare at me and it takes all my strength not to run.
Back at home, nobles had never treated me like this. I wasn't their enemy.
"We came in peace," I yell over the hushed whispers, hoping to gain their attention. "We just want to talk. Please, let us sit down together… and deal with the real threat—the Breach could split the sky open any day now."
"It's true," says Cassandra, stepping up beside me. "The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it's too late."
"It I already too late!" snaps the cleric. She points at the group of Templars making their way towards the stage. "The Templars have returned to the Chantry. They will face this 'Inquisition', and we'll be safe again."
The men leading the Templars doesn't look happy. His grey hair is shoulder length, but it's his emotionless blue eyes that send a shiver down my spine. He walks straight past the cleric, much to her surprise.
But when she looks at the Templar behind the leader, he punches her.
I jump back in shock and I hear Cassandra beside me let out a small gasp.
The cleric herself falls to the wooden flooring, groaning—the other clerics cowering in fear. The Templar supposedly protecting the cleric glances at her then his leader.
The grey-haired Templar nods, "She is beneath us."
I find my voice, "What was that for?"
The Templar leader stares down at me, "Her claim to authority is an insult. Much like your own."
"Excuse me?"
He storms from the stage and I let him. I've got nothing else to say. I rub my temple with a sigh, but see Cassandra move.
She follows the Templar, "Lord Seeker Lucius, it's imperative that we speak with—"
"You will not address me," he says in such a casual tone that it makes me want to punch him. Right in the throat.
"Lord Seeker?" asks Cassandra, her voice small.
The Lord Seeker turns and stops, glaring at Cassandra, tempting me to actually punch him in the throat.
"Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste's prophet. You should be ashamed."
Cassandra's face falls for a split second, but the walls are built high again, almost as fast as they crumpled.
"If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late," he says. "The only destiny here that demands respect is mine."
"We need an alliance to help close the Breach. Don't you understand that?"
"Oh the Breach is indeed a threat. But you certainly have no power to do anything about it," the Lord Seeker says with a smug smile.
I clench my fists.
"Templars, Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection. We march." And with that, the Lord Seeker and his faithful followers march from the courtyard.
"What an ass," I mutter.
Varric walks from the shop he so conveniently disappeared into, "Charming fellow."
"Has the Lord Seeker gone mad?" asks Cassandra, watching him leave with those dark eyes.
"Well, it seems the Templars are out of the question," I say.
"I wouldn't write them off so quickly. There would have to be some in the Order who see what he's become," says Cassandra.
"Well Makers breath, I hope so."
Cassandra doesn't say anything.
"We should return to Haven," says Varric, glancing at Cassandra. "The others will want to know of our…"
"Fantastic way of dealing with the Templars?" I suggest.
"Exactly."
Cassandra is already two steps ahead of us, so we scramble after her.
A faint whistle brushes past my ear and slams into the stone pavement next to my feet. With a jolt, I realise it was an arrow that flew past my ear.
I let out a small scream.
"What was that?" asks Cassandra, whirling around to look at the arrow. "It's got a message tied onto it."
I bend down and untie the small piece of parchment. Uncurling it, I take in the flowing hand writing and hold it so the others can read:
Favors for Favor for Friends
People say you're special. I want to help, and I can bring everyone.
There's a baddie in Val Royeaux, I hear he wants to hurt you.
"Have a search for the red things in the market, the docks and 'round the café?" reads Varric. "Who wrote this? A kid?"
"Bring swords," says Solas. "Are we expecting a fight?"
"Well, I guess we are now," I say.
"Wait," says Cassandra. "Is that… is that a phallic drawing?"
I snort, looking at the little drawing in the corner. It certainly looks like that.
Varric crosses his arms, "Oh, you would know, wouldn't you Seeker? I'm sure you've seen plenty in your lifetime."
Cassandra's head turns to Varric, her eyes burning in anger.
Varric backs away, "Take it as a compliment, Seeker. It means you get around."
Solas watches the squabble with a slightly confused daze on his face.
"Cause she has nothing else to do but get around," I say. "Oh wait, saving the world may be more important than looking at men's nether regions."
Cassandra looks just as lost as Solas, "Well, it's not like I haven't seen… oh Maker take me. Never mind. Let's just find these red things." She snatches the note from my hands and marches towards the docks.
Varric turns to me and gives me a push before we both run after Cassandra.
Rushing up a small flight of stones stairs, we reach the docks.
"If I were a red thing, where would I be?" asks Varric.
"Well, you could be any sort of red thing. An apple, a ribbon, armour, a scarf, cushions, hats…"
"OK, we get the point Chuckles," says Varric, rubbing his ears.
The smell of fish fills my nostrils and I gag, turning towards the blue water gently lapping at the marble dock. Boats rock in the gentle waves, sea birds sitting lazily on the boat's hulls.
A cluster of barrels catches my attention and I move towards them. And sure enough, tangled in a fishing net is a red handkerchief. I pick the handkerchief up, praying to the Maker that is hasn't been used. A small note and key fall into my hand.
"Ah, the ol' secret note passing technique. A wonderful tactic," says Varric. "Until someone stumbles upon said secret note."
"It says 'Key lifted from drunk swearing about the Herald. Don't know what door. I'm out, my debt paid'," I read out.
"Perhaps the other two locations will give us more information," says Solas.
I nod and we make our way towards the café. Various masked citizens waltz through the streets, glancing our way before moving along.
The café is full of patrons, all enjoying cups of tea and plates of cakes. I pat the pockets of my armour and pull out a few gold coins. Before my companions can comment, I walk up to the food merchant and order four pieces of cake.
The masked merchant gives me a sly smile then cuts the chocolate cake, handing the pieces to me on a plate.
I thank him and bring the cake to my ever happy companions, "Here, I thought you'd might be hungry."
Varric grabs a piece, "Thanks Stumbles."
"The pleasure is all mine."
Solas takes one as well, his long spindly finger wrapping around it. He examines the cake and pops it into his mouth, "It is very moist."
Varric makes a face, but keeps his mouth shut from saying one of his crude jokes.
I glance at Cassandra and smile, "Go on."
Her eyes flick to me then back to the cake, "Ugh. Fine." She snatches the cake and takes a small bite.
I do the same, biting into the chocolate goodness. And it is good, great actually. I finish the cake in two gulps, grinning.
I even see Cassandra gulp her piece down.
"Well, they don't call you Herald of Andraste for nothing. You must have her touch in picking the good cakes," says Varric.
"Well, as long as my influence is put to good use."
"Herald," comes Solas' voice. "If I may point out something of importance."
I turn to him, "Of course Solas. What is it?"
He point with his staff and I follow it. Nestled neatly under a table is another red handkerchief.
I gasp, "Good spotting Solas." Grabbing the small cloth from its hiding place, I pull the note from the cloth's folds.
"Thank you friends for helping good Lady Keris. Saw those who asked about Herald enter third passage. Could not stay to see them exit." I glance at Varric for an explanation.
He just shrugs, "Don't look at me Stumbles, I may be a writer, but I've got no idea what they're talking about."
"What we do know is someone is watching you," says Cassandra.
"A comforting thought," I mutter.
"Come, we have one last clue to find," says Solas.
When we reach the upper market, my eyes flick straight to the red sock in the middle of the walkway, "Not very subtle."
Cassandra eyes the parchment, "It's torn, but most of it's legible: …and we are to obey well. We meet at three bells to discuss how best to serve the new way."
"Three bells… meaning three in the afternoon?" I glance at the sun, "That's soon."
"Wait there's something else here," urges Cassandra. "Herald go at time. Praise Adrast." She looks mortified, "Adrast? What kind of spelling is this?"
I snort, "Don't make fun of people's lack of education."
"So I'm guessing this key will allow us to go somewhere," says Varric.
"The third path," says Solas.
"I know where that is," nods Cassandra. "Follow me."
+++
"An alleyway?" I ask, taking in my surroundings. Around us are the back doors to various markets and brothels. Wooden crates are scattered around a large clearing. All away from the centre of Val Royeaux and in the darker parts of the Capital.
I swallow the rising bile in my throat, "If this is a trap…"
We round a corner and I'm surprised to see a group of mercenaries. They look just as shocked until one snaps back into action.
"It's the Inquisition's Herald."
I spring into action, silencing the man before he can utter another word. My blade connects with his throat, splatting his blood against the grubby ground.
I spin, just as Cassandra steps in front of me, blocking and attack with her shield. I yell a thanks and bound towards my next target.
Solas flicks his staff, sending a bolt of ice straight through a man's chest. I see him crumble to the ground.
The archer lets an arrow fly and I duck behind a crate. The arrow hits the corner of the crate, stopping inches from my face. I reel back and flick my blade, sending another blade skittering to the ground.
Gripping both of my weapons, I let out a scream as I hurl them towards the archer. Before he can comprehend my attack, the blades slam into him, one in his stomach, the other in his chest.
We stand in silence before Varric clears his throat, "I think that's all of them."
I nod, retrieving my swords from the corpse.
Cassandra slings her shield over her back, "Well done, they're all gone."
Moving through the back alley, we come to a blue door, seemingly out of place from this dank alley. The sun has dipped behind the buildings, even if it's only afternoon.
I push the door open and step through, just as a fire ball comes straight towards me. Cassandra pulls me back and the fireball hits the wall beside my head.
Another one heads straight for our group and we split. Though, I just duck under the fire, the heat skimming past my head.
"Herald of Andraste. How much did you expend to discover me? It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably."
"I don't know who you are," I say, walking towards the masked man. His golden mask glints in the light.
"You don't fool me! I'm too important for this to be an accident. My efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere."
A scream rips through the air and I turn to see one of the man's guards go down in a heap. An elf looks up from the body, bow and arrow pointed at the masked fellow.
"Just say 'what'!" she yells. And the arrow flies, right into the guy's throat.
"What?" I yell.
The man gurgles on his blood then falls silent.
I examine the elf who may have just saved my life. Her blonde hair is messy, and so unevenly cut I have to wonder if that hairdresser is still in business. Her tunic is red, mismatched with a few leather patches. Her pants are a bright yellow, boots scuffed and dirty.
"Eww," she groans before slinging her bow over her shoulder. "Squishy one, but you heard me, right. 'Just say what.' Rich tits always try for more than they deserve."
"Rich… tits?"
"Blah, blah, blah! Obey me! Arrow in my face!" she yells, retrieving the arrow from the body. "So you followed the notes well enough. Glad to see you're… you're kinda plain, really. All that talk and you're… just a person."
"I'm afraid so."
"I mean, it's all goo, innit? The important thing is you glow. You're the Herald thingy?"
"I am the Herald thingy, yes. But who are you and… what just happened?"
"No idea, I don't know this idiot from manners. My people just said the Inquisition should look at him."
"Your people? Elves?"
"No. People people. Name's Sera, this is cover, get round it." She points to the wooden crate.
"What?"
"For the reinforcements. Don't worry. Someone tipped me their equipment shed. They've got no breeches."
"Seriously?" I ask, letting out a laugh.
A bang interrupts what Sera is about to say and I dive towards the wooden crate. Men rush towards us, swords held high, bows and arrow nocked, but none of them wear pants.
And I actually laugh. It's the funniest thing that's happened since before the Breach.
The men try to attack, but some are too busy fixing their underclothes. I slash at a mercenary, cutting his unprotected legs and with a final stab, I slit his throat.
Varric weaves around the men, nimble as a cat—much to my astonishment. Varric doesn't strike me as a nimble person, even if he is small.
But he catches hold of the back of a man's undergarment and pulls it down to his ankles.
The dwarf cackles, "There Seeker, your phallic symbol."
Cassandra huffs, sending the flat of her shield into a mercenary's face, blood spurting from his now broken nose.
The warrior doesn't even respond, but I hear Sera chuckle, "Ew. Put that back in."
I block a sword coming straight to my face and turn, "Why didn't you take their weapons?" I yell through gritted teeth, shoving the sword away.
"Because no breeches," says Sera as if it explains everything. Then she bursts into a fit of laughter, whilst managing to shoot an arrow straight into a man's eye.
The alleyway goes silent and I slot my weapons back into their sheath.
Sera slings her bow over her back, "Friends really came through with that tip. No breeches!" she laughs again. "So, Herald of Andraste. You're a strange one, I'd like to join."
I blink, "Ah… um. Well, first of all, how about we get to know each other. You know, names and such."
"One name. No, wait, two. It's… well, it's like this. I sent you a note to look for hidden stuff by my friends. The Friends of Red Jenny. That's me. Well, I'm one. So is a fence in Montfort, some woman in Kirkwall. There were three in Starkhaven, brothers or something. It's just a name, yeah? It lets little people, 'friends', be part of something while they stick it to nobles they hate."
"I'm confused."
"So here," she says, without missing a beat. "In your face, I'm Sera. 'The Friends of Red Jenny' are sort of out there. I used them to help you. Plus arrows."
I glance at Cassandra, but she urges me on with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, Sera. What can you offer us?"
"Here's how it is: You 'important' people are up here, shoving your cods around," she says moving her hands just above her head. "Blah, blah, I'll crush you. I'll crush you." She starts making kissing sounds, "Oh crush you."
I laugh, but a look from Cassandra silences me.
"Ahem. Step down," she continues, "you've got big lords with big purses like the tit we killed. His grand plan was ruined by scrap torn from his desk and a red sock. By someone who couldn't read it. So no, I'm not Lord Poncyfart, all ruffled. But if you don't listen down here too, you risk your breeches. Like those guards, I stole their… look, do you need people or not? I want to get everything back to normal. Like you, yeah?"
I smile, "Alright Sera. I'm sure we could use someone like you—and your friends."
"Yes," she squeals. "Get in good before you're too big to like. That'll keep your breeches where they should be."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"Plus extra breeches, 'cause I have all these… you have merchants who buy that pish, yeah? Got to be worth something. Anyway, Haven. See you there Herald. This will be grand."
Before I can say anything else, the girl scampers off, muttering something about bees.
I look at Cassandra but she just shrugs, "Come we best be getting back to Haven."
+++
"Excuse me? If I may have a moment of your time," comes a voice. I turn just as we reach the gates to Val Royeaux.
An elf walks towards us, black hair tied back in an intricate braid. Her robes are that of a mages attire.
Cassandra cocks her head and eyes widen in realization, "Grand Enchanter Fiona?"
My own eyes widen. She looks frail and small, too weak to be a Grand Enchanter.
Solas steps forward, "Leader of the mage rebellion. Is it not dangerous for you to be here?"
"I heard of this gathering and I wanted to see the fabled Herald of Andraste with my own eyes."
"Believe me, there's not much to see."
The Grand Enchanter's green eyes skim over me, "If it's help with the Breach you seek, perhaps my people are the wiser option."
"You want to help us?"
"Consider this an invitation to Redcliffe: come meet with the mages. AN alliance could help us both, after all. I hope to see you there. Au Revoir, my Lady Herald." She turns and heads back to the Capital, blending in with the afternoon masses.
"Come," says Cassandra, her eyes following the Grand Enchanter's. "Let us return to Haven."
+++
Night has fallen by the time we reach Haven and my limbs are stiff and tired. My eyes struggle to stay open and I want nothing more than to sleep. In my own bed. Back in Ostwick. With my family.
But I know it's wishful thinking. After all, we've still got to close the Breach.
"Let us go to the Chantry," says Cassandra.
I rub my eyes and give her a small nod.
"You are free to rest after," she adds.
Varric and Solas leaves us, tending to their duties.
Pushing the Chantry doors open, we hardly take a few steps when I hear a gasp.
I see Josephine, still wearing her yellow and purple dress, stand from her chair, "It's good you've returned. We heard of your encounter."
"You heard?" asks Cassandra.
Cullen and Leliana stand from their seats, joining us.
"My agents in the city sent word ahead," says the spymaster.
Cullen nods, "It's a shame the Templars have abandoned their senses as well as the Captain."
I look away from his brown eyes, "We had to do something… and now we have an opportunity." I continue walking, wanting to tell them off the Grand Enchanter.
"Yes, as we have the opening we need to approach the Templars and the mages," says Josephine as we continue towards the War Room.
Cassandra scowls, "Do we? Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember."
"True," says Leliana. "He has taken the Order somewhere, but to do what? My reports have been… very odd."
"We must look into it," suggests Cullen. "I'm certain not everyone in the Order will support the Lord Seeker."
"Or the Herald could simply go to meet the mages in Redcliffe, instead," says Josephine.
Cullen stops and I nearly walk into him.
"You think the mage rebellion is more united? It could be ten times worse," he says, voice strained.
"Or you could stop bickering and make a decision," I say. All eyes turn to me and I feel as though I shouldn't have said it. But… we have to work together, not fight.
"I agree," says Cassandra, surprising me. I share a look with her.
"We shouldn't discount Redcliffe. The mages may be worth the risk," says Josephine.
"They are powerful, Ambassador. But more desperate than you realise," says Cassandra.
"You think the invitation could be some kind of trap?" I ask.
"If some among the rebel mages were responsible for what happened at the Conclave…"
"The same could be said about the Templars," cuts Josephine. Though she seems calm.
"True enough," comes Cullen's voice. "I'm not certain we have enough influence to approach the Order safely."
"Then the Inquisition needs agents in more places," says Cassandra. She turns to me, "That's something you can help with."
"In the meantime, we should consider other options," says Josephine.
And with that, the group disbands for the night. Cullen gives me a nod, while Cassandra just leaves.
Leliana stays though, "There is one other matter. Several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished. I sent word to those in Orlais, but they have also disappeared. Ordinarily I wouldn't even consider the idea they're involved in all this, but the timing is… curious."
"It does seem a little suspicious," I say.
"The others have disregarded my suspicion, but I cannot ignore it. Two days ago, my agents in the Hinterlands heard news of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. If you have the opportunity, please seek him out. Perhaps he can put my mind at ease."
I nod, rubbing my eyes, "And if he can't?"
"Then there may be more going on than we thought. But, for now, I'll leave you be. It is late." She turns to leave.
"Good night, Leliana."
"Rest well, Herald. We have busy times ahead of us," I hear her say as she makes leave for her chambers.