Chapter Text
Item log #22: One (1) protective scroll case and one (1) parchment scroll
Location of discovery: Frostback Basin research site, quadrant 05
Date of discovery : 9:43, 05th day of Verimensis, by Inq. Halam’era Lavellan & alii
Item description:
Scroll case: lacquered wood, engraved with early Orlesian Imperial motifs. Fully preserved. Traces of blood flakes on cap seam. [see joined sketch]
Parchment scroll: single sheet of calfskin vellum, rolled up. Message penned in black ink, above a large signature and wax seal attributed to Emperor Kordillus Drakon I. Fully preserved. [see appendix #1 : transcript]
Appendix #1:
Whosoever reads this message,
Let it be known that the bearer, Inquisitor Ameridan, Commander of the Seekers of Truth, travels to the Frostback Basin on the official request of His Divine Majesty Kordillus Drakon, Emperor of Orlais, upon business vital to the safety and security of this most holy empire, and that he and those who travel with him are to be afforded every service, rendered every assistance, and extended every courtesy in their effort to protect Orlesian lives from threats both magical and mundane.
Maker watch over him,
Kordillus Drakon I
Initial analysis:
The scroll was recovered on the island known to the Avvar as the ‘Lady’s Rest’ by the Inquisitor’s team investigating presumed demon activity. It was found in a small, preserved cabin surrounded by demons, on the remains of a body who was later identified as Telana [surname unknown] (see item logs #52-58 for necropsy). Mages posit the demons and the thinness of the Veil are responsible for preserving the whole scene against decay.
Additional comment:
This must be it. We know Inquisitor Ameridan disappeared around this time. This is indisputable proof that he was here, in the Frostback Basin on a mission from Emperor Drakon himself, as I have defended in my research time and time again. Take that, Chairman Vinet!
It is remarkable how well-preserved that document was by a happy circumstance of the Fade. I am no mage, but I have been warned that removing it from site might cause it to start decaying. I will seek appropriate preservation protocols at once.
I must send word to the Université d'Orlais. This is groundbreaking.
Possibly tenure-levels of groundbreaking.
Pr B. Kenric
*
“History’ll herald us as heroes for what we have accomplished together over the years. Please, my friend. One last favour. For both our Peoples.”
The words circled around Ameridan’s mind like carrion birds, feasting upon his damn loyalty for Kordillus. The scroll that gave him his orders felt heavy against his heart, tucked in the inside pocket of his robes. He spurred his hart along the road from Drakon’s Val Royeaux palace to the White Spire.
The imposing fortress, with its lone tower that would rise above all other buildings in the Orlesian capital was still under construction, workers busying themselves along scaffolds like ants. It was meant to house the Seekers of Truth and the Templar Order, born from the recent dissolution of the Inquisition into the nascent Chantry’s fold.
As he climbed the imposing stairs that led to the edifice, Ameridan craned his neck to observe builders hoisting a golden statue of Andraste up the scaffolds with ropes and pulleys. Where it would rest in its niche high atop the Spire, the Maker Bride would catch the sunrise and cast its golden rays back towards the Imperial Palace.
Subtle.
The guards stood at attention when he strode inside the forecourt, puffing their chests.
‘Inquisitor.’
‘Not for much longer.’
‘To us, you’ll always be the Inquisitor… sir,’ one of the guards replied fervently. The elven man chuckled, entering the White Spire.
Ameridan’s mage staff clacked on the marble tiles. Inside it, the spirit stirred, pressing against his own magic. Sparks erupted from the tip. It made the templars who crossed him in the corridors nervous, their hands going to their swords out of habit. Despite the years, despite the bonds their Peoples had forged, the humans had never gotten used to the Arcane Warriors of the Dales, who carried spirits within their weapons to aid them in combat.
‘Peace, Shivanas,’ he cooed. With a brush of his mana he calmed the little spirit of Duty, who must have been stirred by his own roiling emotions. ‘We have our orders. One last job for Drakon. Once Orlais is saved, we’ll have deserved our rest, old friend.’
Ameridan entered the newly furbished training halls where the Seekers and Templars honed their skills. A line of new recruits formed a shield wall under the watchful eyes of their instructor. They were all terribly young, he observed. Hearts filled with tales of the Inquisition’s glory days of demon hunting and dragon slaying, vying for a place in the sun at Drakon’s side.
A small explosion rattled the halls. The instructor angled his shield upwards. The recruits imitated him. Tongues of flame bounced off their shields harmlessly, but the force of the blast knocked several recruits off their feet. At the other end of the line, a dwarven sapper surrounded by grenade crates cheered.
‘Three for me!’ she boasted.
‘What’d I tell you, men! Strong arms don’t matter if your footing’s shit. Demons’ll jump you as soon as your shield falters. Again!’ their instructor bellowed, and the sapper prepared the next batch of explosives. Ameridan leaned against a colonnade, happily watching the instructors wrangle decent fighters out of green shoots. Across the Waking Sea, the halls of Halamshiral must be echoing with the same insults, the same ‘yes sirs’ for the da’len who sought to become the next generation of Emerald Knights. The more the world changed, the more it stayed the same.
You’re getting old. Soon, you’ll join the other elders smoking elfroot on their benches and whining about kids these days.
When the training was over and the recruits sent away, the instructor shrugged off his smoking templar shield and clasped the sapper’s arm.
‘Change something in your recipe, Ori’? That one had some kick. Nearly fell on my ass myself.’
‘Mayyybe. Can’t have you getting soft, can I, Haron?’
Ameridan embraced his old friends both. Haron looked well, today. The lyrium draught didn’t sap the templar’s strength as he crushed Ameridan in a bear hug. Good.
‘So, tell us! What did Drakon want? Trouble in the north with the darkspawn?’ Orinna went to the heart of the matter, wiping soot off her hands. Typical Ori’. Never one for small talk. It’s what he liked about her. She never stood on ceremony about Ameridan’s Inquisitor title, never bowed, in all the years they’d fought together.
‘Yes and no.’ He took the scroll out of his tunic and let his friends read the mission order.
Haron whistled.
‘Frostback Basin? That’s the literal arse-end of nowhere south.’
‘What are we fighting?’ Orinna asked.
‘We?’ Ameridan smiled.
‘Says right here, ‘he and those who travel with him’. You’re going nowhere without us, old man.’
‘Trouble with the Avvar,’ he explained. ‘Somehow, they command a dragon. And they’ve raided several settlements already. I – we – go there, slay the dragon and make sure the southern borders of the Empire are safe.’
‘…And that no one’s the wiser,’ Haron understood. ‘People already think there’s a Blight with the darkspawn in the northern flats. If news got out a dragon was threatening Orlais from the Frostbacks…’
‘Drakon wouldn’t keep his head long,’ Orinna added.
Ameridan put the orders back in their protective scroll case.
‘Haron, if you sit this one out, I’d underst-’
‘I’m coming,’ the templar shook his head, squaring his shoulders. ‘Symptoms ain’t too bad nowadays. I can handle it.’
Orinna gave Ameridan a pointed look but he ignored it. He knew Haron was lying. He’d seen how he adjusted his grip on his shield in battle to keep the shaking away from his hands. Haron had been one of the first volunteers to test out the experimental lyrium draughts that gave the first generation of Templars their powers, against his friends’ wishes. Mulish to the end.
Not that Ameridan was one to talk.
He’d agreed to become Inquisitor at Kordillus’ behest fifteen years ago against Halamshiral’s wishes.
He clapped his friends’ shoulders and smirked.
‘Prepare your gear then. We sail at dawn’s break.’
*
The white walls and golden spires of Halamshiral welcomed them barely a few days later. Drakon’s orders had afforded them passage on the fastest ship across the Waking Sea. A surly company of Emerald Knights escorted them from the elven border port to the city itself, keeping a close eye on Ameridan’s companions. They’d been other incidents at the border with Orlais recently and the sight of a Knight-Templar, even one known long to the Dales as a friend of Ameridan was enough to warrant a full escort to reassure the elven settlements.
They probably could have avoided riding across the elven kingdom entirely, taken the eastern trade roads and only met cursory resistance – but Ameridan had an important detour to make.
At the city gates, the Emerald Knights prevented Haron and Orinna from entering. New orders. No shemlen inside. Before Ameridan could protest or use his influence, his friends exhorted him onwards and took their horses towards one of the roadside inns that welcomed outsiders.
Halamshiral was as beautiful as Ameridan remembered it. The streets were busy, market stalls with colourful awnings popping up in every corner in preparation of Mythal’s Winter Solstice. He would miss the festival again, he realised. His mission in the Frostbacks would take longer than a couple of weeks if the dragon of the Avvar was as formidable as the reports described. He basked in the festive preparations as much as he could, watching people put garlands up on roofs, and offerings at the feet of the statues of the Creators that lined the central avenue. A honeyed apple in hand, gifted by a food vendor who’d heard of his deeds, he took his steps towards the Palace of the High Keepers.
For all the celebratory atmosphere of the streets of Halamshiral, the corridors of the palace were filled with gloom. He wasn’t much welcome in these halls anymore. His association with Drakon and the human realm of Orlais put him at odds with the most isolationist of his peers. The day’s Keeper council session was just over. High Keepers, councillors and representatives from the border settlements mingled in the parlours in quiet whispers.
‘Inquisitor Ghilain,’ a councillor raised an eyebrow when Ameridan joined one of the debating groups. ‘We were just talking about you. I’m surprised you have not yet forgotten the way to Halamshiral, your presence is rare among your own these days.’
‘Oh, hush, Ralaferin,’ a woman snapped. Telana. She was the most beautiful woman Ameridan had ever set his eyes on. He would know, he’d had the privilege of setting his eyes on her for the past thirty years as her lucky consort. ‘That is untoward even for you. Garas’an vhenas, era’ma,’ Welcome home, my dream. She leaned against him, sneaking her arm around his hips. He couldn’t help but notice the new strands of grey in her long black hair. ‘Have you made safe travels?’
‘The seas are peaceful, though my tidings are not. I’ll let you finish,’ he kissed her brow, feeling the grooves of her vallaslin against his lips.
‘Oh, we were quite finished here,’ Telana said, ‘I’ll have my aides draft a funding proposal for next week’s session, would that suffice, councillor?’ Ralaferin agreed after some more bickering, but Telana was already pulling Ameridan away towards the exit.
‘Trouble?’ Ameridan asked conversationally, eyes lost in Telana’s brow wrinkles that had developed in recent years from repeated frustrations. He planted a kiss on the back of his consort’s hand to get her wandering mind’s attention.
‘The Lords are worrying,’ Telana finally admitted. ‘Rumours of a new Blight brewing in the north are dividing the council. They’re already arguing about the extent of our Kingdom’s involvement should the darkspawn spread any further.’
Ameridan sighed. He’d never had the endless patience for politics that Telana cultivated. He was lucky the Seekers of Truth had administrators willing to deal with most of the mundane tasks while he was out in the field doing the fun part – battling demons, dragons and possessed mages gone rogue.
As one of the elven ambassadors working closely with the human Empire of Orlais, Telana had been afforded a beautiful suite in the high districts of Halamshiral close to the Palace of the High Keepers for when she was in the capital. Ameridan spent most of his time in Val Royeaux when he wasn’t in the field but Telana had insisted he keep a few belongings in her lodgings – so that he always had a place he could call home in the Dales, perhaps even a home to retire to once his duty was done.
‘What are these troublesome tidings you speak of, love?’ Telana asked once they were in the sanctuary of their home. She served them cups of berry wine. Ameridan silently handed her Drakon’s orders.
‘I’ve assembled the old team,’ he explained, his fingers playing with his favoured dagger, the one Drakon had gifted him what seemed ages ago. ‘Haron and Orinna await me at the city gate’s inn. As soon as we’re stocked up, we’ll depart.’
Telana rose, walking circles around the roof terrace they lounged on. ‘What’s this really about, Ameridan? I thought you were done following Drakon’s orders.’
‘I’m not following- Kordillus trusts me. He wouldn’t have asked this of me if it weren’t vital.’
‘The rumours are true, then,’ she crossed her arms, shivering. ‘It’s truly a Blight.’
‘An Archdemon’s been sighted in the northern flats. This is confidential information, please, keep it between us for now.’
‘By the Creators.’
‘You see why I have to go?’
‘Say you do this. Save them secretly from the Avvar-dragon without a word of thanks. Then what?’
‘Then I come home. To you. Put down my weapons and help you convince the High Keepers to rally against the Blight. It threatens all, humans, dwarves and elves alike.’
Telana inclined her head, raising an eyebrow. ‘You, put down your staff?’ With a brush of her magic she pressed against Shivanas inside Ameridan’s staff that he’d laid against the table. ‘You hear that, Shiv? Inquisitor Ameridan Ghilain, slayer of four dragons, who once took out a demon of Pride with a farmer’s scythe, Oath brother of the Emperor of Orlais, retiring? Whatever will become of you, elgar’len?’
Sparks sputtered from the tip of Ameridan’s staff angrily. He rolled his eyes. ‘Alright, alright. You made your point.’
‘And I’m sure you made yours,’ she sighed, shedding the heavy robes of her station as ambassador for a lighter evening gown. ‘There would be no point in dissuading you, is there?’
‘You know me too well,’ Ameridan replied, extending a hand to pull Telana onto his lap. She wrapped her hands around his shoulders, rested their brow together. They remained embraced like that in comfortable silence for a time. Slowly, his lips drifted. He planted a kiss on her temple. Another against the soft flesh beneath her ear. Breathed in the new perfume she wore. He loved her so very much, though their respective duties kept them apart so often. His fingers pressed deeper against her hips. She laughed against his lips.
‘Can you at least wait until after dinner?’ she chastised, but her lips sealed over his own, briefly, to tease him.
‘If I must.’
They kept their hands to themselves for a few more hours, during which Ameridan sent a runner to Orinna and Haron telling them to settle for the evening. He would be delayed until the next morning, as his friends had astutely predicted.
‘I’m coming with you. You need me,’ Telana straddled him later that evening, their clothes discarded around the settee. Ameridan lifted his head from the trail of kisses he was planting on his consort’s breasts.
‘The People need you here more,’ he kissed her. Ran his hands gently across her sides before squeezing her backside. ‘You’re a voice of reason within the Palace. If we both leave, I fear there may be no one to remind the High Keepers of our alliance with Drakon.’
‘I miss the field,’ her hand caressed the old scars on his thigh before taking him confidently in hand. He shuddered. She grinned. ‘I can do more good at your side than in endless meetings. Even with Haron… being what he is now. It’ll be good to fight with the old team.’
‘Unfair woman, to catch me in a moment of -ngh,’ Ameridan groaned, ‘Mythal’s mercy, slow down, I’m no spring chicken any-’ his last words were disrupted by Telana’s masterful tongue descending upon him, making him lose all willpower for a blissful moment.
Before she could make him crest too quickly and lose all dignity, he lifted her in his arms and rose from the settee. She wrapped her legs tightly around his hips. He barely made it to their bed – damn knee acting up. Laid them down gently, pressing himself between her legs and intertwining their hands above her head. Ameridan stared at her in awe, willingly sprawled in the bedsheets to let him gawk at her still toned body, whose edges were only starting to soften with age. He made sure she knew how much he loved her in that moment. How much he longed to stay in her arms instead of answering Drakon’s call.
When, much later, they lay in each other’s embrace under Mythal’s gentle moonlight, sleep evaded Ameridan. Mechanically, he recited prayers to the Creators in his mind, and when it didn’t send him to sleep he went through verses from the Chant of Light. Nothing helped. Telana rested peacefully at his side. He envied her, sometimes. Telana was one of the few Dreamers of their generation, and her mind wandered in sleep where he could not follow. He caressed her cheek with the back of his finger and she did not stir. Carefully, Ameridan rolled out of bed, started dressing himself as quietly as he could.
With the Maker’s grace, she wouldn’t even notice he’d left her behind until well into the morning. He hoped she would forgive him, eventually.
‘Don’t you dare,’ Telana warned. Her eyes were wide open, catching the moon’s reflection. He let out a breath, shamed.
‘There’s no point in dissuading you, is there?’ he asked, sheepishly,
Telana smirked. Rose from their bed, Mythal’s moon rays robing her forms in silver for a few, breathtaking seconds. She headed over to the chest where she’d kept her old travelling rucksack from their adventuring days.
‘You know me too well.’
*
The whole gang regrouped at the roadside inn the next day.
‘Lana!’ Orinna waved at the two elves leading their harts by the bridle. She snuffed out her small smoking pipe and grabbed her own pony’s lead. ‘Knew she’d come,’ the dwarf elbowed Haron, who nodded mutedly. ‘Old man didn’t forget to hand my gifts for your nieces, did he?’
‘The girls loved it,’ Telana assured her. ‘I’m amazed you remembered their eye colours. They’ve been showing off their new bracelets to the family all morning.’
‘Great, because I had the gems shipped straight from Orzammar, so they better show them off.’
‘I’m sorry the new regulations keep all non-elves outside the city walls,’ Telana said. ‘The girls would have been happy to see you.’
‘You spoil them, Ori,’ Ameridan chastised. He’d indulged the girls too when Telana’s whole family had invited them over for breakfast to wish them well on their journey. They’d insisted upon braiding ‘Uncle ‘Ridan’s’ long grey hair themselves, and the youngest had sneaked in a flower that tickled the tip of his ear.
‘Someone has to!’ Orinna chuckled.
Haron didn’t say much this morning and Ameridan could see he’d had trouble sleeping, dark circles swelling under his eyes, but he was as prepared as they all were. Ameridan smiled, mounting his hart. They may not be the freshest, youngest band of adventurers, but by the Creators, they damn well were the best. There was no one he would rather fight alongside with, save perhaps for Kordillus himself.
The journey across the Kingdom of the Dales went quietly, The occasional border patrols stopped them because of the non-elves alongside them but Ameridan’s aura and Telana’s status were enough to silence the Emerald Knights’ concerns. Once they were on the eastern roads crossing through the Emerald March and hiking up the trails towards the Frostbacks, autumn slowly ceded terrain to winter’s frost. The auburn and golden trees of the forests let way to snowed-in shrubbery, frosted creeks and a harsh biting cold that attacked their skin.
In the Frostbacks mountains, there were few settlements to speak off, apart from a couple of lumbering villages and mining camps. The people there didn’t bother themselves with the changes of the world. Drakon’s Chant of Light still hadn’t reached these valleys where statues of small gods whose name Ameridan didn’t know peppered the trails. Yet these people were honest and hardworking, and usually happy to share a fire and a meal with the few wanderers who made the climb to trade.
They welcomed Ameridan and his team at the longhouse where all the workers gathered in the evening, but the humans were nervous. They cast each other long glances when serving their guests a bowl of stew from the cooking pit.
‘What’s gotten peoples …like you wandering all the way up there?’ the village elder asked, an old, bearded man with a crooked back from years of hard work.
‘We’re adventurers. Dragon hunters,’ Ameridan replied, massaging his aching knee. ‘Heard there was some good quarry in these parts.’
The assembly laughed uneasily. The elder spat in superstition. ‘Dragon hunters, eh? Well you heard wrong. Ain’t no ordinary dragon did this to ‘em poor sods.’
He pointed to a few people at the back of the longhouse who were nursing their drinks, cheeks bitten by frostbite. One had propped up a hastily bandaged leg on a stool.
‘Fuckin’ Avvar,’ the wounded man growled when they interrogated him. ‘Fell upon us a fortnight ago. Bret and I, we were out huntin’. We were lucky. Barely made it out here alive. Never ran so fast my whole life. The Avvar, they gone mad, brother. Nearly pissed meself. That was no dragon they had. A demon, I tell ya.’
‘And the rest of the village?’ Telana asked dubiously. Their years in the Inquisition had taught them that common folk called demon anything that looked out of the ordinary and that it shouldn’t be taken at face value.
A sombre silence. Bret and his friends spat on the ground.
‘Where’s your village?’ Ameridan asked.
‘Next valley over after Clayne’s falls, but you can’t just take the Avvar on.’
‘Watch us,’ Haron grunted.
‘Well, at least you brought bait for the dragon,’ a drunken fool pointed his tankard at Orinna. ‘Bet it’ll swallow you in a single bite, lass.’ The poor sod probably had never met a dwarf before. Ameridan rested back on his elbows on the fur he sat on, hiding a smirk in his cup of mead.
‘She’ll go for the crotch first,’ Telana whispered in his ear.
‘I say foot.’
‘You’re on.’
‘You got a problem with me?’ Orinna growled, rising. She barely reached the man’s waist when he stood at full human stature. Like most of the mountain folk, he probably had some Alamarri or Avvar blood somewhere along his bloodline, his kind were much taller and broader than most Orlesians.
‘I don’t pick fights with child-’ the man yelped, folding over in two. Orinna’d punched directly into his family jewels and immediately wound up for another blow, slamming her elbow into the man’s jaw. His head snapped back. She finished it with a kick of her steel-toed boot to his shin, sending him to the ground in agony.
Raucous laughter erupted across the whole long house.
Ameridan slipped Telana a few copper coins discreetly from his coin pouch, receiving a cheeky kiss in return. Orinna took a long swig from her mead tankard under the lumbermen’s applause while the unconscious drunkard was dragged outside to sleep it off in the haystacks. She might not be the tallest, but she’d been Warrior Caste back when she lived in Orzammar, and her tattooed knuckles wouldn’t let anyone forget that any time soon.
‘You should evacuate your village,’ Telana turned back to the alderman with concern. ‘We ride tomorrow to follow the dragon’s trail, but you’re still at risk of an Avvar raid until we succeed.’
‘T’s’your life. Waste it all ye like,’ the elder slapped his thigh. ‘But we ain’t goin’ nowhere. It ain’t much, but it’s our home. Enough talk of the dragon demon, you’ll bring back luck to the valley. A song!’ he roared. The lumberjacks slapped their hands on the tables in anticipation, beating the tempo. Soon enough, voices rose, filling the building with a bawdy song about a maiden, a bear and a pot of honey. The ground trembled from the table slapping and the foot stomping and the chest thumping.
‘Join us, outsiders!’
‘We don’t know the words,’ Ameridan guffawed.
‘We’ll teach ya. Might wanna cover your fair lady’s ears.’
‘This here fair lady has heard and done it all,’ Telana winked, finishing Ameridan’s mead. Ameridan should probably have told his companions to keep their drinking to a minimum and their minds focused on the journey ahead, but he found himself unwilling to cut their fun short while it lasted.
In the morning, they would venture into winter’s heart to slay the Avvar dragon.
But for now, Drakon’s scroll lay forgotten at the bottom of Ameridan’s pack, their duty discarded in a corner of the longhouse. All four friends were bellowing about the maiden’s sticky honey and the bear’s great gulps with the village folk, their minds mellowed by drink and their hearts softened by hearth fire’s warmth.