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Daniel looked back toward the city, its distant lights flickering like stars trapped in a gilded cage.
The morning mist clung to the valley as the Inquisition column made its final approach toward Val Royeaux. The city rose before them like a jeweled crown, its white spires gleaming in the pale dawn light, the grand bridges spanning the river like threads of gold. It was beautiful—and utterly daunting.
Daniel reined Max to a halt at the head of the bridge, the massive warhorse stamping impatiently. Behind him, the soldiers straightened their postures, their hands drifting toward weapons out of habit. The wounded had been left at the previous night's camp with a contingent to guard them, but even the healthy among them looked tense.
Cassandra guided her charger up beside him. "We cross here?"
Daniel nodded, but his eyes were fixed on the city gates in the distance. Guards in Chantry colors patrolled the entrance, their halberds glinting. "We can't march in with an army. It'll look like a threat."
Varric, astride his sturdy pony, snorted. "Because nothing says 'friendly visit' like fifty armed soldiers stomping through the market square."
Solas, ever observant, tilted his head. "They will still see us coming. The Herald of Andraste does not travel quietly."
Daniel exhaled. "Then we don't give them a reason to panic. Cassandra, pick ten—your steadiest hands. The rest stay here with the horses and supplies."
Cassandra's jaw tightened, but she didn't argue. "And if this is a trap?"
"Then we'll be glad we didn't bring everyone into it," Daniel said grimly.
Cassandra moved through the ranks with the precision of a seasoned commander. She pointed to soldiers in turn—a mix of veterans and scouts, all with cool heads and quick reflexes.
Alrik, the grizzled Fereldan sergeant, was among the first chosen. He grinned, hefting his axe. "About time we got off our arses and did something interesting."
Reynard, despite his healing leg, looked crestfallen when he wasn't selected. "I can fight," he protested.
"Not in your state," Cassandra said bluntly. "Stay with the healers. That's an order."
The young recruit flushed but nodded.
Mariel, though still recovering, was chosen—her knowledge of the city's backstreets and templar marks made her invaluable. She smirked at Reynard's envious look. "Don't worry, pup. I'll tell you all about the excitement you missed."
Varric and Solas, of course, would be coming. Bianca was already slung across the dwarf's back, and Solas's staff glowed faintly in the morning light, a silent promise of magic at the ready.
As the selected ten gathered, Daniel addressed the rest. "Hold position here. If we're not back by nightfall—or if you see signal flares—fall back to the pilgrim's path and send word to Leliana."
The soldiers nodded, their expressions grim. They understood the stakes.
The bridge to Val Royeaux was a marvel of Orlesian engineering, wide enough for three carriages to pass abreast, its stone arches carved with intricate reliefs of Andraste and the Maker. But as they stepped onto it, Daniel couldn't shake the feeling of walking into a lion's den.
The bridge beneath their feet seemed to tremble with the weight of the city's grief. Cassandra's shoulders stiffened as they walked, her gaze sweeping across the towering spires of Val Royeaux. The banners that usually fluttered in vibrant colors now hung limp and black, the city draped in mourning for the Divine. The air itself felt heavy, thick with the scent of incense and candle wax from countless vigils.
Daniel kept his expression neutral, but his grip tightened. "The city still mourns," he murmured.
Cassandra's jaw clenched. "They loved her. As they should have."
A group of citizens hurried past them, their heads down, but as they caught sight of the Inquisition's party, they recoiled. A woman gasped, clutching her child closer before darting into a nearby alley. The whispers followed like shadows: "Herald of Andraste." "The Marked One." "The Chantry says—"
Varric arched a brow. "Just a guess, Seeker. But I think they know who we are."
Cassandra shot him a withering look. "Your observational skills never fail to impress me, Varric."
The dwarf grinned, entirely unrepentant. "What can I say? It's a gift."
Solas, walking silently beside them, studied the city with a quiet intensity. "Fear is a powerful thing. It turns allies into enemies and strangers into monsters."
Daniel exhaled. "Then let's hope we can remind them we're neither."
As they passed through the towering gates, a figure in Inquisition colors slipped from the shadows—a woman with sharp features and the lean build of a seasoned scout. She bowed slightly. "Lady Cassandra. Lord Herald."
Cassandra inclined her head. "You're the scout Leliana sent. What have you found?"
The scout's expression darkened. "The Chantry Mothers are waiting for your arrival. But... so are the templars."
Cassandra went very still. "There are templars here?"
The scout nodded. "The people believe they've stayed to protect Val Royeaux from..." She hesitated, then forced the words out. "From the Inquisition. They're gathering on the far side of the market. I believe the Chantry Mothers and the templars intend to meet you there."
A beat of silence. Then Cassandra's hand dropped to the hilt of her sword. "Well. There's only one thing to do, then."
Daniel studied her face—the steel in her eyes, the tension in her jaw. "We walk in. Heads high. No weapons drawn unless they strike first."
Cassandra met his gaze. "You think words will be enough?"
"I think we won't know until we try."
Varric adjusted Bianca's strap. "And if they do strike first?"
Daniel's lips thinned. "Then we make sure they regret it."
Cassandra's hand lingered on the hilt of her sword as they moved forward, her brow furrowed in thought. "Now that I think about it," she said slowly, "the templars are here to protect the people? From us? The Inquisition, who battles the demons?"
Daniel kept his voice low as they walked, their boots echoing against the marble walkway. "We knew there would be reaction from the templars, Cassandra. This was always a possibility."
"Of course," Cassandra replied, her tone sharp with frustration. "But I did not expect them to make a public appearance under the pretense of protecting the people from us."
The female scout, lingering a step behind, spoke up. "That's what I've heard from the citizens of Val Royeaux. They assume the templars are here as their defenders. But I've found no concrete evidence of what the templars actually intend."
Varric let out a dry chuckle. "So, what? The templars suddenly decided to play heroes again? Return to the people's good graces?" He shook his head. "Or maybe they're just here to deal with us. The upstart Inquisition. After all, the people in the Hinterlands already trust us more than them."
Cassandra's jaw tightened. "I have known Lord Seeker Lucius for years. I cannot imagine him leading the templars back to the Chantry's side after everything that has happened."
Daniel exhaled, watching the way the statues lining the path seemed to stare down at them—stone eyes judgmental, unblinking. "Well, the reason we came here was to find help to close the Breach. Maybe this is our chance to speak to the templars directly. Persuade them to aid us."
Cassandra considered this, then gave a reluctant nod. "Perhaps." She turned to the scout. "For now, return to Haven. Someone needs to inform them if we are... delayed here."
The scout bowed. "As you say, my lady." With a final glance at the group, she slipped away, disappearing into the side streets with the practiced ease of Leliana's agents.
Silence settled over them as they continued down the walkway, the statues looming like silent sentinels. The air grew heavier, thick with the scent of incense and the distant murmur of a gathering crowd.
Solas, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke. "The templars' presence here is no coincidence. If they have returned to the Chantry's fold, it is not out of loyalty, but strategy."
Daniel frowned. "You think this is a power play?"
"I think," Solas said carefully, "that the Lord Seeker is not a man who acts without purpose."
Cassandra's fingers flexed at her side. "Then we had best be prepared for whatever purpose that may be."
As they rounded the final curve of the walkway, the market square opened before them—a vast expanse of marble and gilded stalls, now eerily empty of merchants and shoppers. Instead, the space was filled with people, their faces a mix of curiosity and fear.
The crowd parted before them like water before a ship's prow, but not out of respect—out of fear. Daniel could feel their eyes on him, hear the hushed whispers that slithered through the gathered masses.
"That's him—the Herald."
"They say he walked out of the Fade itself."
"The Chantry says he's a liar."
An Orlesian noble in a peacock-feathered mask leaned toward his guard, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "Stand down, my friend. The templars will deal with this... Inquisition soon enough."
Daniel ignored them, his focus locked on the stage ahead. Three Chantry clergy stood beneath a golden sunburst banner, their crimson robes stark against the pale marble. Surrounding them were templars—not just guards, but an entire contingent, their armor polished to a mirror shine, their expressions hidden behind steel helms.
The central figure, a woman with silver-streaked hair and piercing eyes, stepped forward. The crowd hushed instantly.
"Good people of Val Royeaux," she proclaimed, her voice carrying across the square, "hear me! Today we gather to mourn our Divine, whose naive and beautiful heart was silenced by treachery!" A murmur of agreement rippled through the audience. "Many of us wonder what will become of those who murdered her."
Her gaze snapped to Daniel, her finger jabbing through the air like a dagger. "Well, wonder no more! Behold—the so-called Herald of Andraste!"
The title dripped with venom. The crowd gasped, recoiling as if he were plague-ridden.
"He claims to have risen from where our beloved Divine fell," the Revered Mother—Hevara—continued, her voice rising in pitch. "But the Chantry declares him a false prophet! Would the Maker send a Dalish elf in our hour of need?"
The accusation hung in the air like smoke. Daniel felt the weight of hundreds of eyes upon him, judging, fearing, condemning.
He stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension. "We came here to talk peacefully. We want only to address the real threat—the Breach!"
Cassandra moved beside him, her hand resting on her sword hilt, though she did not draw it. "What he says is true! The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it's too late!"
Hevara's lips curled into a sneer. "You are already too late."
She gestured dramatically to the side of the stage. The crowd gasped again as a new group of templars marched forward—not in the orderly ranks of Chantry guards, but with the deliberate, unified stride of an army. Their leader, a towering figure with a lion-crested helm, moved with an authority that silenced even the Revered Mother's theatrics.
Hevara spread her arms wide. "Behold! The templars have rejoined the Chantry! They will deal with this false Inquisition, and the people will be safe once more!"
For a heartbeat, the square was utterly still.
Then—
The lead templar's armored fist lashed out in a vicious arc.
The crack of metal against bone echoed across the plaza as Hevara's head snapped back. She crumpled to the stage like a broken doll, her crimson robes pooling around her. A strangled cry escaped her lips as she clutched her face, blood seeping between her fingers.
The crowd erupted.
Shrieks filled the air as people stumbled back, tripping over each other in their panic. The two Chantry clergy scrambled away from the templars and went to see Hevara, as their faces white with terror.
The square was in chaos. Mothers clutched their children, merchants abandoned their stalls, and nobles in their silks and masks pressed handkerchiefs to their mouths in shock. The Revered Mother Hevara lay crumpled on the stage, her two fellow clergy hovering over her, their hands fluttering uselessly as blood dripped between her fingers.
Then, through the pandemonium, a figure emerged—tall, armored, his lion-crested helm removed to reveal a face that might have been handsome if not for the cold disdain twisting his features.
"Lord Seeker Lucius," Cassandra breathed, her voice thick with disbelief.
Lucius didn't even glance at the wounded woman at his feet. Instead, he addressed the templar who had stood beside Hevara moments before—a younger man with a square jaw and troubled eyes. "Get a hold of yourself," Lucius snapped. "She was beneath us."
Daniel stepped forward, his stomach churning. "What are you doing?"
Lucius finally turned his gaze to him, his lip curling. "Her claim that the templars are returning to the Chantry is an insult. Much like you, standing before us now."
Cassandra moved to intervene, her voice steady but urgent. "Lord Seeker Lucius, the Inquisition seeks only to—"
"You can't speak with me," Lucius cut her off, his voice like a whip crack. He turned on his heel and began to stride away, the templars falling into formation behind him.
Cassandra stiffened. "Lord Seeker?"
Lucius paused, half-turning to deliver his final blow. "What are you doing, Pentaghast? Creating a heretical organization, then propping up a Dalish elf as your puppet prophet? You should be ashamed." His glare swept over the crowd. "As all of you should be! The templars have failed no one by leaving the Chantry to purge the mages! The ones who failed are you—leashing the Order's righteous sword with fear and doubt!"
Daniel's hands clenched into fists. "The Inquisition needs an alliance with the templars to seal the Breach. That's all we—"
Lucius laughed—a sharp, ugly sound. "Oh, the Breach is indeed a threat. But you have no power to do anything about it."
The templar who had stood beside Hevara—Barris—stepped forward hesitantly. "But Lord Seeker... what if this elf was sent by the Maker? What if—?"
A senior templar officer whirled on him. "You have been called to a higher purpose! Do not question the Order!"
Lucius's smile was glacial. "I will make the templars the most powerful force in Thedas. We will stand alone against the Breach. We deserve independence." His gaze flicked to Daniel, then Cassandra. "The Inquisition has shown me nothing. And the Inquisition is... less than nothing."
With that, he raised his hand. "Templars! This city is not worthy of our protection! We march!"
The templars turned as one, their armor gleaming in the sunlight, their boots striking the marble in perfect unison. The crowd shrank back as they passed, their once-revered protectors now marching away without a backward glance.
Silence settled over the square like a shroud. The Revered Mother Hevara was being helped to her feet, her face a ruin of blood and swelling. The remaining Chantry clergy looked lost, their authority shattered in an instant.
Varric and Solas joined Daniel and Cassandra at the foot of the stage.
"Well," Varric said dryly, "that was a charming fellow."
Cassandra's face was pale. "Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?"
Daniel exhaled slowly. "Cassandra... do you know him well?"
She hesitated. "He took over the Seekers of Truth two years ago, after Lord Seeker Lambert's death. He was always... decent. Never given to grandstanding. This—" She gestured to the empty space where the templars had stood. "This is not the man I knew."
Daniel studied the retreating figures in the distance. "Do you think we can reason with him?"
Cassandra's jaw worked. "I hope so. But if not... there are others in the Order who don't share his views. Templars like Barris—they may yet listen to reason."
Varric crossed his arms. "So what's the play, then? Chase after the templars? Try to catch them before they disappear into the wilderness?"
Solas, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke. "Rushing after them now would only reinforce Lucius's narrative—that we are desperate, that we need them. We must be strategic."
Daniel nodded. "First, we return to Haven. Leliana needs to know what happened here. Cullen, too—if there are templars willing to break from Lucius, we need to find them before he poisons them against us completely."
Cassandra's shoulders sagged slightly. "Then it's settled. We regroup."
As they prepared to leave the square, Daniel cast a look at the city—the frightened people, the abandoned stage, the distant dust cloud of the templars' departure.
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Name : Daniel Carter
Race: Elf
Level 5 : 2475/2500 EXP
Professions: Mage
Gold Coins: 2289 coins
Weapon: Staff of the Dragon
Armor: Light Armor of the Dragon and Templar Scribe Scowl
Accessories: Token of the Packmaster and Belt of Health
Inventory: Acolyte Ice Staff, Morning Star, Stiletto, Hunting Longbow, Fire Resistance Cowl, Mercenary Coat, Acolyte Fire Staff, Disciple Lighting Staff, Apprentice Armor, Qunari Battleaxe, Raider Hatchet, 2 Disciple Fire Staff, Apprentice Mail, Qunari Buckler, Medium Adventure Armor, Mindleech Staff, Soldier's Nemesis, 2 Recruit's Dirk, Reinforced Dagger, Sledgehammer, Disciple Lighting Staff, Apprentice Armor, Exacting Longbow, Barbarian Lord Maul, Lifeward Amulet, and Grenade Belt
Crafting Materials: 37 Elfroot, 62 Iron, 2 Blue Vitriol, 1 Dawn Lotus, 11 Silk, 17 Lambswool, 3 Royal Elfroot, 10 Ram Leather, 23 Drakestone, 4 Fire Essence, 3 Blue Vitriol, 11 Canine Leather, 4 Plaidewaive, 2 Frost Essence, 1 Fade-Touched Iron, 4 Blood Lotus, 5 Embrium, 10 Spindleweed, 16 Onyx, 3 Ironbarks, 2 Crystal Grace, and 1 Serpenstone
Upgrades: Sigil of the Gamordan Stromrider and Sigil of Deathroot
Valuables: 2 Shadow Essence, 1 Ram Horn, 1 Dreamer Rag, 5 Weapon Fragment, 2 Bowstring, 8 Mysterious Shards, Nevarra Skull, 1 Wisp Essence, and 1 Wolf Fangs
Potions: Lesser Health Potions x8, Lesser Regeneration Potions x5, and x5 Lyrium Potion
Skills: Chain Lighting, Flashfire, Barrier, Winter's Grasp, and Energy Barrage
Armor Schematics: Shokra-taar Schematic, Antaam-saar Schematic, Avvar Armor Schematics Acquired, Stone-Bear Armor Schematics, Vanguard Coat Schematic, Sturdy Defender Coat Schematic, and Scout Mail Arms Schematic
Weapon Schematics: Curved Dagger Schematic and Hunting Bow Schematic
Potion Recipe: Lesser Regeneration Potion recipe and Lyrium Potion Recipe
Bottles of Thedas: Vint-9 Rowan's Rose and Carnal, 8:69 Blessed