"I'll start on cooking dinner," says Vivienne. "I certainly know how to cook a good stew."
"First watch," yells Varric, hefting Bianca over his shoulder. "Seeker and Stumbles, you're on tent duty."
I groan, "Leave us with the bad option."
Cassandra grunts, "Varric won't last long. One shadow will send him straight back."
"My dears, cooking dinner is quite the ordeal. You must please everyone's palates," says Vivienne, placing a pot on the rack above the fire.
Cassandra blinks, but doesn't say anything.
And so the two of us set about pitching the tents. Vivienne's, hand-made in Val Royeaux, is the biggest of the tents. Slowly though, it comes together. I'm determined to make sure it's suitable for the posh First Enchanter. Cassandra unrolls a large bed roll and places it in the middle of the tent.
She looks at me, "I don't understand why she can sleep in luxury. And Varric…"
"Well, Miss Posh Pants did say she wanted a tent to herself. And we must obey. We could only fit three tents in our packs."
The warrior's delicate eyebrow rises, "I wanted a tent to myself."
"Oh come on, I'm not that bad. I don't move that much."
Cassandra lets out a small laugh, moving to pitch the next tent, "I'm sure you're right."
"OK, would you rather be in a tent by yourself and have me sharing with Varric?"
"I will not put you through that pain."
"Good."
I stop tying the hide tent to the pole and look at Cassandra. Her face is shadowed by the fire behind her, but her dark eyes are on me.
"Why are you smiling?"
"I was thinking," I say with a grin. "How about I take the other tent and you and Varric share?"
She doesn't say anything for a few seconds, "You know how that would end for Varric."
I smile, "I'm sure he wouldn't mind. I am the Herald of Andraste, after all. I should be allowed my own tent."
Her faith in the Maker is very passionate. And she certainly wouldn't argue with the chosen Herald.
"If that is what you wish."
"I'm kidding Cassandra. I wouldn't do that to you."
She smiles, "Good." Though her eyes drift to the dwarf as he marches around the camp, making enough noise to scare any enemy away.
"Dinner is served, my darlings. Come and get something to eat," calls Vivienne.
Cassandra and I finish off the last tent and I bolt towards the fire, glad to finally have something to eat.
Vivienne hands out the bowls and we sit on the cool grass, eager to start eating.
Varric takes a sniff of his meal, "Smells good. What is it?"
"Druffalo and vegetable stew. With a touch of honey."
The stew is actually very good, though I'm not sure how Vivienne managed to cook it—she would be used to having kitchen staff cooking her meals.
"So Lydia Trevelyan, if this wasn't how you were spending you night, where would you be now?" asks Vivienne.
I blink, the fork dropping into my bowl. I look at the Enchanter, "I… er. I'd be home."
She nods, "As would we all."
"Having dinner perhaps. With mother and father."
"Any siblings?"
"Two brothers, one younger and the other two years older than me. Brandon and Augustus." I smile as their faces appear in my mind.
"If you are anything to go by, than I'm sure they are lovely men."
My eyes drop to the fire, "Augustus is always chasing the women in court. And Brandon…" a laugh escapes my lips, "He'd be torturing our wet nurse, no doubt."
"Ah, a trouble maker?"
"Certainly. And… and a young mage."
"A young mage? Why dear, that is dangerous in times like these."
"I know," my eyes stay on the dancing flames, not wanting to look at any of them. They can think what they will. Brandon is still my little brother.
"I would be in the tavern, most likely," says Varric. "A nice cold ale would be great at this time."
And so we continue chatting and eating under the stars. But my thoughts keep returning to my family. Are they wondering where I am right now? Josephine has sent word to them, though I'm sure they would know I've been dubbed Herald of Andraste. Gossip spreads quickly over in Ostwick. I hope mother would be proud.
The moon sits up in the night sky and Vivienne excuses herself for the night. Cassandra glances at me, but I shake my head, "You rest too."
She seems to hesitate, but then stands, heading to our tent.
Varric watches her leave, firelight flickering through his eyes.
"I'll tell you if she sleeps in her armour," I say.
Varric's eyes return to me, a smile crawling to his face. Though I can tell it's forced, "She never takes armour off."
We sit is silence, watching the flames.
Biting my lip, I turn back to Varric, "How did you and Cassandra meet?"
Varric laughs, "That is a long story."
"Well, I love stories."
Varric sighs, "We met a year ago. Though, I wouldn't say met. More like, I was captured and held against my will as she interrogated me."
"She bound you?"
"Maker no. I was allocated a nice, comfortable chair, while she asked me questions."
"That doesn't seem too rough."
That earns me a look, "Oh you don't know how frightening she can be when she's angry. When she's angry and wanting answers."
"What answers was she looking for?"
"You don't know?"
"Well… I was kind of caught up in life…"
"She wanted me to tell her where Hawke was."
I blink, "You mean the Champion of Kirkwall?"
"Ah, so you weren't that busy."
"I've read Tales of the Champion before."
"A reader are you?"
"I do like to read, yes. There's never anything else to do. But, please, continue."
"Cassandra wanted to know where Hawke was after the Chantry was blown up by Anders. They needed her." His voice is quiet now, so quiet I have to lean in to hear. "They ran away together—Hawke and Anders."
"What about the rest of you… of Hawke's friends?"
"They went their separate ways."
I glance at the tent Cassandra disappeared into, "At least she's stopped interrogating you. Though, you both seem to argue with each other."
Varric snorts, "We aren't the best of friends. No matter how hard I try." I snap back to him and see Varric trying hard to pull his wits back, "Well, I know we'll probably never be good friends, but it's always worth a try."
"Keep trying," I say. "Who knows. She may need a friend."
"She's already got one."
"Who?"
"You."
"Me? I'm almost two decades younger than her. I wouldn't know why she'd want to be friends with me."
"She seems to like you. I mean, she hasn't interrogated you yet."
"I hope it stays that way. Though she did almost kill me when we first met."
Varric laughs and glances at the moon, "You better get some rest. I'll stay watch."
"Call me when you want to sleep."
"I will Stumbles."
Easing my way to my feet, I walk to the tent, but stop, "Varric?"
"Yes?"
"I think you two would be great friends. You've just got to get past all that armour." And with that, I duck inside the tent. Cassandra herself is curled up in her bed roll, sound asleep.
I smile and notice her armour tucked away in the corner.
It seems she doesn't sleep with it on.
With one last glance at Varric through the flap of the tent, I curl up in my own bed roll and sleep finds me easily.
+++
As we walk through Redcliffe Village, I try to stop my hands from shaking. First visit to the Village, and a Rift blocked our way. As always, we managed to close the Rift with no problem. But this one was different. It seemed to speed up time and to slow it down. I don't know how it managed to do that, but it sends a shiver down my spine just thinking about it.
And now, it seems as though Grand Enchanter Fiona doesn't remember talking to us in Val Royeaux. An Inquisition scout had told us that no one in the Village was expecting us. And according to a rebel mage, a Magister Alexius is in charge—though what happened to Fiona is unknown.
I thought having Vivienne with me might ease the tension, but it seems so messed up we may not even get to speak with the mages.
We reach the tavern where negotiations are to be made with this Magister. The people watch us wearily, and Cassandra keeps a hand on her hilt, ready for anything.
Entering, I take in our surroundings. The tavern is small, cozy even. A fire burns in the hearth, flickering orange light across the tavern.
Grand Enchanter Fiona glares at us, her green eyes burning, "Welcome, agents of the Inquisition. What has brought you to Redcliffe?" Her voice is tight but her eyes flick to Vivienne, "First Enchanter Vivienne."
"My dear Fiona. It's been so long since we last spoke. You look dreadful. Are you sleeping well?"
I blink. There goes Vivienne's help. My eyes flick to Cassandra than back to the Grand Enchanter. I clear my throat, getting her attention, "You traveled all to way to Val Royeaux and invited us to meet you here to discuss… the Breach."
"You must be mistaken. I haven't been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave."
"I… Someone exactly like you spoke to me in Val Royeaux, a few days ago."
"Exactly like me? I suppose it could be magic at work, but why would anyone…" she hesitates. "Whoever or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed. The Free mages have already… pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium."
"An alliance with Tevinter?" asks Cassandra. "Do you not fear all of Thedas turning against you?"
Varric scoffs, "Andraste's ass… I'm trying to think of a single worse thing you could have done. And I've got nothing."
I watch for the Enchanter's reaction, but she doesn't say anything.
And Vivienne also stays quiet, though I do see her hands tense.
"As one indentured to a Magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you," says the Enchanter.
"An alliance with the Tevinter is a terrible mistake."
Fiona shakes her head, sadness drawing across her features, "All hope of peace died with Justinia. This bargain with Tevinter would not have been my first choice, but we had no choice. We are losing this war. I needed to save as many of my people as I could."
The tavern door opens, sending a flurry of wind through the tavern. I turn as the door slams shut and walking towards us is the man I presume to be the Magister.
His robes are red and lightly armoured. His hood bears three prongs that look suspiciously like a crown. His smile is slimly and my neck prickles under his gaze. And a boy, no older than I walks behind him, head down.
"Welcome, my friends," bellows the Magister. "I apologies for not greeting you earlier."
"Agents of the Inquisition, allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius."
"The southern mages are under my command. And you are the survivor, yes? The one from the Fade? Interesting."
His voice makes me want to hurl a drink at him. And the way his eyes roam up and down my body. I'm just glad I have armour on.
"If you're leading the mages now, then let's talk. I'm sure we can come to an arrangement.
"It is always a pleasure to meet a reasonable Lady," he beckons me to sit down at one of the tables and I follow.
"Felix," says Alexius. "Would you send for a scribe, please? Pardon my manners. My son Felix, friends."
I glance at the boy and he bows to me, smiles and teeth flashing. Without a word, he turns and talks quietly with a mage.
"I am not surprised you're here. Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could even attempt," continues Alexius. "There is no telling how many mages would be needed for such an endeavor. Ambitious, indeed."
I stare into the Magister's eyes, "Does that mean you'll lend your mages to help our case?"
"There will have to be—" Alexius' eyes drift to Felix, who is limping towards us.
Felix tries to keep a straight face, but pain is clearly etched in his expression.
I stand quickly, Alexius doing the same. And Felix collapses into my arms.
I struggle to hold his weight, but trying to keep him upright is my main concern.
"Felix?" yells Alexius, and it's quite clear how much the Magister cares for his son.
Felix seems to come to as I sit him on the floor, "My Lady. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." He still holds my hand.
"Are you alright son?"
"I'm fine, father," Felix assures. He clutches his stomach, far from fine.
"Come, I'll get your powders. Please excuse me, friends. We will have to continue this another time." Alexius takes his son by the shoulders and Felix's hand slips from mine. I clench my fist.
They walk towards the door, "Fiona, I require your assistance back at the castle."
Fiona grudgingly follows the Magister, Felix close behind.
"I don't mean to trouble everyone," mumbles Felix, giving me one last look.
"I shall send word to the Inquisition. We will conclude this business at a later date," says Alexius.
When the mages leave, I look down at my clenched fist. A note, scrawled on a torn piece of paper is crumpled in my hand, placed there when Felix fell.
Patrons begin filing into the tavern, yelling and laughing, the meeting finally over.
Cassandra gasps, "He gave you a note?"
"You're in danger. Come to the Chantry," I read out.
Looking at Cassandra, her eyes are wide, "We best go to the Chantry then."