Near the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Village of Haven, Kingdom of Ferelden, 9:41 Dragon
The human with fire-red hair withdrew from the room once morning had fully settled into the day.
The apostate mage remained silent, seated on an uncomfortable wooden chair, his travel pack resting on his lap—and far too much information to give.
For most, information was a way to represent reality. That was a naive assumption. Solas knew that information rarely aspired to reflect reality as it truly was; rather, it sought to build it. Sometimes, of course, it portrayed things with precision. Other times, not so much. But what it always achieved (and this was what made it truly powerful) was to connect people. And that was precisely what Solas was doing in that moment… establishing a connection with this group. One that would allow him to understand exactly what was happening. Because that explosion had been catastrophic… and he was nearly certain it could only have been caused by his Orb.
The door opened abruptly, cutting off his thoughts.
A woman with dark, short hair entered with a firm stride. Solas noted her heavy armor, the tension in her jaw, the scar that crossed her face. Without a doubt, a human warrior. The redhead (Leliana, if he remembered correctly) came in behind her and set a hand on her shoulder.
- He has offered his help willingly, Cassandra. At least hear him out.
The warrior stopped before him with swagger, arms crossed, tension in her face and a merciless voice.
- Leliana tells me you surrendered your staff yourself.
The dark-haired woman was holding, for the moment, the very weapon Solas had given to Leliana. The apostate mage merely nodded, offering no additional words. It was not worth speaking to these uncultured beings. Only manipulating them, if necessary.
- And you are an apostate. - she pressed. He nodded again. - Where were you at the moment of the explosion?
- I already told you, Cass… - he heard the redhead complain, stepping forward to place herself between them. - In a village near the site. We have witnesses who place him there. He hasn't lied.
No. He had misinformed.
The warrior slipped around the redhead's body and faced him again.
- Leliana claims you have asked permission to study the only survivor of the explosion.
Solas nodded silently once more, and Cassandra sighed with unmistakable exhaustion.
- Tell me. What exactly do you intend with the prisoner?
"Intend with the prisoner?" He intended many things—but with the prisoner? Nothing. If he intended anything, it was with them, and it was simply a matter of buying time…
- I intend nothing… - for the first time the mage spoke, letting his tone suggest he did not know the proper way to address the ill-tempered woman. And yet, the rhythm of his words carried education and respect—something very typical of elves in these times toward shemlen, as he had observed.
The warrior sighed again, and in the glint of her eyes Solas recognized fear, doubt, and despair. Good… she was right to feel that way.
- Call me Seeker.
A Seeker of Truth.
Solas nodded. Yes… over the past year he had read about the hierarchies of Andrastianism, the most popular religion in Thedas, and the Seekers were the Chantry's armed branch, meant to serve as an instrument of internal correction within the religious institution…
Good. Military force. Which could only mean this woman likely possessed a rigid, structured mind. Easy enough to handle.
- I intend nothing, Seeker. - he corrected. - I have presented myself voluntarily before you because it is the right thing to do. We are all in danger if that rift in the Veil continues to expand. It is not wise to stand by with our arms crossed.
Connection.
With calculated precision, Solas was building a close connection to this group—one that, in his judgment, clearly intended to accomplish something amid the catastrophe. And he needed to be seen as an indispensable advisor in arcane matters, someone they could not afford to ignore, in order to become part of them. Because although they did not know it (and if it depended on him, they never would), if that explosion had been caused by his Orb… then it could only mean matters were far more serious than anyone present could even imagine.
But he was not about to explain that to any of them.
- I only request permission to study the prisoner. - the elf said, his voice calm but certain. - With the intention of finding a way to close the Breach in the sky, if such a thing is possible. - He paused. - I specialize in the forces of the Fade and the Veil, and I place my knowledge at your disposal to assist in whatever is necessary.
Time passed between the three of them. Cassandra and Leliana allowed themselves a swift glance; Solas could only think how ironic it was to present himself as an "expert on the Fade and the Veil" to these beings when—well—he was its creator.
- Cassandra - Leliana broke the silence. - He has correctly assumed the Breach is expanding.
In the redhead's eyes there was honest fear as she spoke.
- He believes it will destroy the entire world if we don't find a way to stop it.
The dark-haired woman placed her hands on the desk, letting the weight of responsibility seem to crush her under the grief of that fateful day. Everything had been chaos for hours. Solas did not envy that kind of burden... but he would do nothing to lighten it.
- If you have no objections, I will authorize his studies…
- Objections? - Cassandra let out a dry laugh. The exhaustion was unmistakable. - If you truly came here with the commitment to save this world, how could I object?
Save the world? Well, yes—perhaps it was about that…
…but not this world.
- I do not intend to save this world, Seeker. - he clarified. - Only to find answers, if my knowledge can provide any sort of guidance.
For an instant, Leliana watched him in silence. It was only a fleeting glint in the redhead's gaze, but it was enough for Solas to understand that she was far more dangerous than she appeared. That way of observing (swiftly, catching the smallest detail) was the sight of an executioner, someone capable of merciless acts.
Had he been so obtuse as to misuse his intonation when he said "this" world?
No. It wasn't that.
It was simply her.
The small bird with red feathers was, without doubt, a lethal weapon.
A pity she was facing a wolf.
- Look, Solas... - he heard the warrior's implacable voice, and the mage looked back at her. - I don't know you, and I don't know your intentions. But I know Leliana, and she's betting on you.
Cassandra drew a deep breath and straightened further, imposing with her height and composure. She adjusted her sword in its scabbard—likely a reflex that gave her comfort—and without intending to, her shoulders shifted naturally as she settled the weight of her shield on her back. It was clear she was a gallant warrior of these times.
- You'll understand that, for now, I will not return your staff. - she warned. - There's too much chaos between mages and templars. But I will allow you to examine the prisoner.
The apostate nodded, expression neutral.
How naive it was to think she was safe merely because he carried no focus. A staff was useful, yes…
…but unnecessary.
With or without the Veil, Solas knew more than one way to take lives. Magic was simply the most elegant of them all.
- Come with me. - the Seeker said at last. - I'll take you to the prisoner.
They crossed the interior of the village Chantry and headed to the lower levels, where the cells were kept. The place was dark and damp; the smell of mold and dried blood filled the air. A few torches danced, burning and lighting the corridor, but there were too few, and Solas wanted to extend his hand and set the rest aflame so he could see properly.
He restrained himself, naturally…
Cassandra moved with resolve toward one of the cells, stepping ahead of the mage. Solas tightened his lips in silent reproach at how safe she felt beside him—and so quickly. It was naive to trust one's back to a stranger (even with a shield), especially to Fen'Harel… but of course, she didn't know.
And she wouldn't.
Not yet. For now, she could afford such miscalculations…
- It's her. - he heard her say.
Solas stepped up beside the Seeker and looked at the only survivor of the Conclave explosion. And to the elf's misfortune…
... she was Dalish.
He made an almost imperceptible face. Of all beings in this world, that one: a Dalish elf bearing Ghilan'nain's vallaslin upon her face. He was tempted to sigh and roll his eyes, but of course he kept his posture perfectly controlled. He clenched his teeth and had to look away toward the adjacent doorway to neutralize his frustration…
…though the "greatness" of mighty Ghilan'nain invoked on that girl's skin offered the heretical Dread Wolf the chance to notice a library inside this place!
Well then. The Dalish certainly knew how to make their captive gods speak…
Excellent. Later, he could approach and look for information. It never hurt to read about the folklore of these times and correctly perform the role of the "wandering apostate mage," did it?
Ghilan'nain enasal… Later he would plant a tree in her name…
Cassandra's voice forced him to pull his attention away from his resentment.
- She hasn't woken since we took her in. - she said, not looking at him. Her full attention remained on the worshipper of "Ghily." - But she was found at the site of the explosion. We believe she was spat out from the Fade.
Spat out from the Fade? Unlikely.
Then a faint green glow on the prisoner's palm caught the mage's eye.
- May I? - Solas gestured toward the cell.
Cassandra nodded, took a large iron key, and turned the lock.
They entered. The mage knelt beside the Dalish woman, still unconscious on the cold cell floor. He lifted his hand to hover above the girl's forehead and closed his eyes. He let the arcane forces flood him and compelled the Dalish mind to yield…
After all, he was a dreamer mage.
He could allow himself a trick.
Or two.
The prisoner was submerged in a deep sleep (likely arcane) within the Dreaming Realm… sunk into a profound meditative state… He wondered how she had achieved it, or what had triggered it. Then he looked back to the warrior.
- She won't wake soon. She's drained. Whatever happened inside that temple has nearly emptied her mana reserves.
- Mana? - Cassandra repeated, lifting an eyebrow. - She's a mage?
- So it seems, Seeker.
The woman huffed, shifting impatiently beside him. Her gaze drifted for a moment toward a horizon of impossible responsibilities, and at last she confessed:
- Listen, Solas. I have far too many things to do. The uprising between mages and templars hasn't given us a second's respite, and everything has worsened with the death of Her Most Holy.
Solas nodded in silence.
- Something tells me you're a sensible man, one who won't try to escape. I'll leave you here to examine the prisoner, but you must remain inside the cell with her. Precaution.
- If she wakes, I won't let her flee... - he replied bluntly. - I don't like the idea of lying behind bars. It unsettles me. But you can trust that I will not allow her to escape.
- Trust me, as I am trusting your intentions. - the Seeker replied.
Solas made a slight face. He did not want to be locked in.
- We are two strangers who, it seems, will have to cooperate, apostate. I will not leave you with the prisoner without locking the cell. - Their eyes met. - You'll be inside. It's a precaution. We still don't know what she might do if she wakes.
- Then today we are two who cannot trust, Seeker. I regret having to decline your offer. - the mage said calmly, but firmly. - I appreciate that you allowed me to see her, but I do not wish to be deprived of my freedom. I hope you can understand.
Cassandra frowned, but did not argue.
- You're prudent. - she said at last. - And distrustful.
- No more than you, Seeker. No more than you.