Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Scouts of the Inquisition (Alvis & Sync)

There was no real conversation, not from Dylan and Disa at any rate. Loriel was grateful for the silence as she watched the two sergeants – she presumed Dylan was a sergeant as well – leaned against a wall and relax into some kind of meditative restful state. Maren and Davin did likewise – not leaning against a wall so much, more than just sitting back and relaxing, knowing that there wasn’t much going to happen for a while. She knew she should do the same, but she also knew that rest was going to be denied her for a while. She was too wound up from the events of the last day or so. Nothing she’d done in the Tower could have prepared her for what she’d just experienced; nothing she’d gone through since the Circles had dissolved had prepared her for what she’d just experienced.

She should review her spells, she knew. How had two spell patterns formed in her mind without her studying the patterns first? In the Tower, it was known that you normally had to look at spells in a text to understand what they might do, then receive some instruction from another mage, before a spell could be utilised. Of course, once a pattern was known it was never lost or forgotten; it was as if the Fade itself made sure a spell was never forgotten by a mage. But…she’d picked up not one, but two, spell patterns spontaneously, without any prior study or even knowledge of the spells. Was that…was that what it was like for the ancient elves of Arlathan? She’d never know, of course, but she couldn’t help but wonder about the elves of old, a land and culture and knowledge long-lost to time and violence.

Before she could pursue any further thoughts, Garret coughed to get her attention. His question was not unreasonable, but his comment surprised her.

“He likes me?” she repeated quietly, not sure she’d heard him correctly. “You could’ve fooled me – oh, wait…you did.” She paused, then gave a quiet snort. “Well…I suppose it’s good to know that he’s not being difficult just to annoy me. The nickname I can deal with, if that’s all it is. I guess…I was just brought up differently, first in the Clan, then in the Tower. You live by what you know.” She shook her head slightly, noted the scout carefully changing his position so he could look at her better.

“Am I all right?” She sighed softly. “Yes. No. I…I don’t know. I don’t want to sound selfish or anything, but…well, I’ve never been in a situation like this before. Scouting, fighting, killing, being captured… I don’t know how to deal with it, Garret. After the Circles were dissolved, I avoided contact with just about everyone, out of fear of how they’d react to me, an apostate. I overheard rumours and stories when people walked past my hiding places. I killed small animals for food – it’s amazing how long a fenec or nug can last when you eat sparingly for one, although neither of them taste very good if you don’t cook them right. But what we’ve just done in the past day…? How do you deal with that?” She hadn’t quite started crying as she’d spoken, but Loriel knew she wasn’t far from it; certainly her eyes had started to redden, and even in the dimmed light Garret could see the change in the mage’s face.

“I…I don’t know,” Garret admitted. “You just…do. That doesn’t help, I know – except maybe to realise that if it’s not them, it’s you. Out here, it’s about survival. If you’ve done all you can and survived, you’ve done well. If you’ve helped others survive along the way, you’ve done better. You…” The scout paused, not sure whether to reach out a hand to try and give her a comforting grip or not…and decided not. “I suppose I had it a bit easier, when I made my first kill of another person. It was a while ago, when we had a few angry and hungry refugees come our way during the Blight. They were impatient, rude, loud, ungrateful…even though we tried to help them. Eventually my father got tired of it, pushed back…things escalated into a brawl, weapons were drawn…when it was over I had a bloodied knife in one hand, blood spatter all over me, and a dead man at my feet. I was…fifteen, I think. I had my family to help me deal with it. It was then I learned that sometimes you have to make a stand, that if you don’t they will.”

The scout fell silent for a second, then smiled apologetically and shook his head. “I’m sorry…I don’t have any words of wisdom for you.”

“Just…pick yourself up and move on, hmmm?” Loriel suggested, and Garret nodded slowly. “I…thanks, Garret. You’ve given me something to think about, at least.” She leaned forwards and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. “Get some rest. I’ll have another look at you in a little while.” Garret nodded again and shuffled himself down.

Soon the room was silent but for the sounds of breathing, and Loriel drifted into her own thoughts…thoughts that stayed with fighting and killing and hurting and capture and the mysteries of magic.
 
Disa stayed dozing fro awhile, not really interested in anything that was going on around him at the moment. He didnt know how long it was that he sat like that when Dylann nudged him into full wakefulness.
"Hey. You listening?" Dylan asked.
"No, why?" Disa countered.
"I suppose it didn't really occur to you to maybe make sure your mage was settling in?"
"She fought well. What more do yuo want from me?"
"She's young Disa. Very young. And we weren't all born Barbarians, blood in our mouths and blades close at hand. Don't know if now is the time, but she might need to have a chat with her serggeant about how to reckon with that."
"I don't know if I'd be much help Dylan. I've killed hudreds of peope in my life, and I can't remember a single one that I questioned or felt remorse over." Dylan was quiet.
"Yeah, maybe you're not the best person to talk to her. But I still think you should." Disa sighed, and stood up. He probably wasn't wrong.

Disa crossed the floor quietly, seeing others had settled in for a nap since there was precious else to do. He stopped beside Garret. It was cold in the chamber, but Garret was sweating. Badly. Disa held a hand over his brow, and could feel the heat radiating off of him. Not a good sign. He did a quick check on arret, not touching him, but getting a look. It was faint, but Disa managed to pick out a very faint discolouration on his wrist, running along the veins.
"Mageling." He called to her. "I think we need you over here." Disa annouced. Garret stirred awake faintly.
"Sir? We leaving?" Garret asked, his voice more of a slurred mumble.
"Soon Garret. Keep resting, and let Loriel check you over." He assured the scout. He turned Garret's arm over to show Loriel the markings.
"Is there anything you can do for him? If it helps, the Avvar would likely have used Blood Lotus for any poison. Tears of the Dead I think it is commonly called." Disa supplied to Loriel.
 
At the term “Mageling”, Loriel sighed to herself as she pulled herself out of her meditative-like state. That name was probably going to stick with her now, at least in public – probably until the day she died, and maybe not even then. It could only mean, too, that Disa was wanting to tell her something he thought was important, or ask her something he thought was important, or both…she’d find out in short order, she knew he’d make sure of that.

What she didn’t expect was for him to ask her to go to Garret.

When she crossed the few steps to the pair, she could see that Garret was worse off than she’d thought, and she accepted Disa’s words with a brief nod of acknowledgement. How had she not seen the poison in the man? Why hadn’t the poison bene purged by her earlier healing efforts? But even as she asked herself the questions, she knew what the answer was: because she hadn’t been looking for poison. But could she deal with poisons? Surely she could, she must be able to – Garret’s life now depended on it. How could Disa know, just by looking, what poison was likely slowly killing Garret? She probably didn’t want to know the answer to that one, but she also knew she’d ask him about that later. She knelt next to the scout and drew her will about her again. She suspected that dealing with poison would be harder than dealing with wounds and injuries.

As the healing magic descended upon Garret yet again, she found the pattern of poison in the man’s body. She knew she could adapt the healing magic pattern to counter the poison, but it was going to be harder because the poison had had time to make its way through Garret’s frame. If she’d got to the poison earlier…she pulled the thought up short; she didn’t need doubts and nagging thoughts, not now. She pushed her will forward instead, felt the resistance of the poison…

“Come on, Garret,” she pleaded in a quiet voice. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t you give up on me after all I’ve done to try and get you back on your feet.” She didn’t get a response, and hadn’t expected one. But she could, finally, start to feel the poison weaken its grip on the man. It was slow going. It was hard work. She could feel herself slipping, fading, as she worked to remove the poison. It was a difficult one to get rid of; not that she’d expected poisons to be simple, but they all worked differently both in themselves and in their victims, and as such they required more concentration and focus than healing injuries.

“Fight it, Garret,” she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else. “Fight it. You can do it.” Her arms were trembling slightly. She could feel her legs weakening. How long had she been at this? No idea. But it was starting to get easier…or less difficult, depending on your point of view.

Finally she heaved a big sigh as she withdrew her will. She swayed slightly, put a hand on the ground to attempt to steady herself, felt it waver until her elbow locked into position to stop her from falling. She didn’t bother opening her eyes.

“I think…I got it all…” she offered faintly.
 
Disa heaved a sigh as Loriel did her work. There was a little bit of interest from the others, but it seemed to be passing. A mage doing her work wasn't a terribly exciting task. It was slow going, which told Disa that Loriel had power, strength, but she was really going to need to work on her refinement. He'd seen mages purge poisons and even thigns lie broken bones in seconds. Prehaps that was just a degree of specialization that many did not have, he didn't know. His knowledge of magecraft typically extended as far as killing them when they turned on him, or having them support his work.

As she worked, Disa saw her starting to push herself, seeingf the physical strain of purging things, and did extend a hand, steadying her somewhat. If all he could do was make she didn't topple over, he'd do it. As she started hissing out faint words, Disa didn't comment. Long years of isolation from traveling had left him with the habit of talking to himself many times,. He'd been among people enough lately to shed the habit mostly, but it still cropped up. Not one to throw stones on that subject.

"Rest Loriel." He told her when she confirmed she was done. "I'll watch him. If the signs start showing up again, I'll bring you back, and hopefully much sooner than this, so you can tackle it before it's spread widely." He assured her, his hand still gently on her shoulder. He left it there for just a moment longer, adn then withdrew it. He heaved a sigh, and started to listen to Garret, noting his breathing seemed steadier all ready. A very good sign.

He also heard what sound like faint clashes of steel. Either the Avvar were having it out, or someone was fighting them. There was amomentary thrill of hope. Had the Inquisition sent assisstance after all? Were they getting out of here?
 
The only response from Disa, it seemed, was the hand on her shoulder. It wasn’t rough or heavy or pushy, just…almost comforting, as if he was thanking her for the work she’d done. She’d never know, of course, because Disa didn’t seem, to Loriel, to be the sort of man who randomly explained himself unless under duress or orders. His supporting hand was somehow not at all unwelcome, though – she felt an appreciation for it, but she lacked the energy and breath to say so. He’d probably understand from her lack of effort to shrug his hand away.

She settled back into a seated position before his hand withdrew, as if he was making sure she wasn’t going to fall over. She could feel her strength slowly return as she sat still. She knew within herself, and the thought was not the first time she’d come to this conclusion, that she’d have to work to get stronger if she was to be of continued use in the field. For all that she’d determined to transfer to another team when they made it back to Haven, she was starting to get this niggling feeling that Harding might deny her request and keep her in Disa’s team. That would be just peachy – although she at least had Garret for company, and they’d have to get another member to fill the team out. If Garret remained in the team, maybe staying wouldn’t be so bad.

She slowly became aware of the sounds of fighting not too far away, the sounds of metal striking metal, what sounded like an occasional magical detonation and the crackling of electricity, the groans and grunts of people being injured. Had those sounds always been there and she’d only just noticed? Had they only just started? Had she been dozing and the sounds had woken her up? She had no real way of knowing…time didn’t seem to make sense in this room. But the sounds awoke a glimmer of hope in the young elf that they might be saved after all. She opened her eyes and glanced around at her companions – they’d all noticed the sounds of fighting, and their faces seemed to hold similar hopes to her: that they might get out of here.

She leaned over to Garret, placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Soon, Garret,” she murmured to the scout, who certainly appeared to be more alert now than he had been earlier. “We’ll be out of here soon.” She didn’t know if that was an actual truth or not, but it helped her to say it.

Eventually the sounds of fighting faded, or at least moved away from them. Was it over, whatever was happening out there? Were they rescued, or were they about to die? She didn’t know, couldn’t know, wouldn’t know until the door was opened.

Which it was about to do. There was movement outside the door, fiddling with the lock, a moving of a bar, jiggling with the latch and handle…then the door was pushed into the room.

“One, two, three, four, five, six…and a stiff,” an elven woman with short blonde hair announced as she stepped into the room and surveyed those already inside. The woman was not unattractive, was lightly armoured and carried a well-used bow; she spoke with a strange accent and an almost-nasal voice. “And…one of the people is an elf,” she added as her eyes settled on Loriel. “Great.”

“Now, now, Sera,” another, masculine, smoother voice sounded from behind as its owner, a thickset dwarf with a blonde ponytail and dressed in an armoured coat, walked into the room and slung a large crossbow over his back. “There’s no need to be abusing the people we’ve just saved from certain death and dismemberment.”

“Shut it, Varric,” the woman – Sera – replied dismissively. “You know I just saved your arse, too, with that last shot of mine.”
 
Disa was tense, wanting to be outside, wanting his weapon in his hand, wanting to be a prt of this fight. He'd been getting the better of the leader of the Avvar before they'd forced him back, he wanted to settle that score. As the sounds of fighting started to fade, he had a good idea that he wasn't going to get his chance to settle up. When the door open, he felt his lip curling in a sneer. He didn't know Sera, but he knew of her from Haven. Spend any time in the tavern there and you were bound to find some of the people known for traveling with the Herald. The sneer faded back as Varric entered the room. Now the dwarf, he knew. He'd bought more than a few tankards for the man in Haven, and while they might not be friends, they were at least acquainted.

"Varric, nice of you to drop by. You're late." Disa said flatly, pointedly ignoring Sera. He wasn't rightly in the mood to deal with her brand of obnoxiousness. Besides, as much as he'd given Loriel a hard time, she'd done well enough in the fight for him to offer her a little slack. "Are we clear outside, I'd like to get my wounded back to Haven for proper treatment."

Garret heaved out a sigh, and started shifting. He'd heard enough, and it was time to get himself moving. Rescue. Disa had been right.
"Sir." Garret grunted. Garret lifted and arm, and Disa grabbed it firmly, helping Garret to his feet. Garret staggered, a hand going to his side where one of his wounds had been. Healed it might have been, but it still hurt.
"Can you stand soldier?" Disa asked him.
"I'll run if I have to sir."
"Should have told me that hours ago Garret, we'd have been halfway home by now."
"Sorry sir, I'll accept the reprimand when we get home."
"Damn right you will. Lousy malingerer." Garret cracked a pained smile.
 
For all that she was grateful to see vaguely-friendly faces enter the room through the doorway in a controlled manner – meaning that they’d just been rescued – Loriel was less-thrilled about one of their rescuers. She’d seen the pair around Haven briefly, but not much: Loriel was only a recent arrival to the Inquisition, so hadn’t met many faces or their owners, and had spent most of her time with the handful of mages the Inquisition had picked up already, anyway. It was clear from his reactions, though, that Disa knew who the pair were – as did most others in the room, and Disa was apparently quite comfortable with this Varric, and less-so with the woman, Sera. But before she could say anything, Sera looked at Loriel and squinted closely.

“I’ll bet you’re a mage, aren’t you?” Sera asked curiously.

“And I’m Dalish, too,” Loriel sighed softly, getting that out of the way quickly. “Loriel of Clan Fihrallen, most recently of the Fereldan Circle of Magi.”

“Lovely,” Sera replied sarcastically. “A magic elfy-elf. All my nightmares rolled into one package.”

“Let it go, Sera,” Garret cautioned from near Disa. “Loriel’s all right. I owe her my life.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Sera sniffed, before heading back to the door to apparently check how things were progressing outside.

“Don’t let her bother you, kid,” Varric added, before turning to Disa and looking up at the big man. “Sorry we’re late, Smiley, but we got held up. Our Illustrious Herald felt the need to stop and close a couple of rifts on the way to get to you, and a whole troop of undead also wanted to introduce themselves to us.” The comment might have been interpreted as being sarcastic, but it was delivered with an air of respect that belied any possible negativity.

Loriel had dismissed Sera’s comments and found herself holding an instant dislike for the woman. It seemed, from the reactions of everyone else in the room, that she was the only one who didn’t yet know this pair of Varric and Sera – and so far she was quite happy to keep that familiarity restricted to Varric. Right now, all she wanted to do was get out of here, out of the room, out of the Mire, out of the area…and back to Haven. She needed more functional clothing, a new staff, training…she needed to make sure Garret was all right. That was only going to happen, it seemed, when Varric and Sera declared the area safe.

“Looks like the Herald is now chatting to that big Avvar we met earlier,” she called from the doorway. “Sky-Watcher, was that his name? Anyway, I think we’ll be good to move in a few minutes.”

That news was the most welcome thing Loriel had heard in close to a week, she reckoned.
 
The fact taht Sera was walking away was the only reason that Disa didn't open his mouth to take a verbal slash at her. Disa helped Garret walk towards the door, the wounded man just needing a touch of support to keep himself up. Frankly he was in better shape than Disa had expected. At Varric's words, Disa had to crack a slight smile.
"Well, if I run into the Herald out there, I'll let them know to pick up their damn feet adn get their ass moving in the future. Wars are won and lost based on the speed of their forces after all. And you got help up by undead? It took thirty Avvar and a hostage situation to stop us and we're just a scout team!" Disa quipped back, moving at the door. He didn't speak to Sera, just using his bulk to bump her out of the way.

No matter how much she annoyed him, he was confidant she couldn't actually kill him with any less than four arrows. And by then he was equally confidant he could close the gap with her and break that scrawny knife-eared neck of hers, probably making a number of annoyed people happier. The keep area was a mess to be sure, the dead strewn along the ground, arrows and bolts in several of them. He grinned as he saw a fallen Avvar, adn stopped by a pillar, looking to Garret.
"Lean here a moment." He ordered. Garret obliged. Disa approached the fallen barbarian, and lifted his sword free. He swept it through a few passes, glad to have the weapon in hand once more. It was gratifying in a huge degree. He put the weapon back on it's hooks, adn turned to Garret, offering a hand again. "Mageling! Come on, or we're going to leave you here!" He called, heading for the exit. A huge Avvar was still there, but if the Herald had been present, tey were gone now. Disa sighed. He supposed Sera and Varric were their escort home.
 
“Did I say a troop of undead?” Varric snorted expansively to Disa’s comment. The dwarf didn’t appear to be offended by the comment; and, looking at him, Loriel wasn’t sure the dwarf could ever be offended by anything. “More like a battalion. The damned things didn’t stop coming as we tried to get into the keep, no matter how many we took down.” Varric was, however, content to take point by the door as the former captives got themselves ready to move – fortunately, it didn’t seem to take long.

Loriel’s delay in joining the others was caused by her struggling to move inside Disa’s heavy cloak. While she was sitting down with the cloak wrapped around her, she was fine – actually trying to stand and move in it without tripping and falling over was another thing entirely, and it was taking time for her to get used to moving in it. In the end she decided to do without it, and Disa’s call brought a small scowl to her otherwise-pretty face as she glanced up to the sergeant. As she watched him bend down to retrieve his sword she pushed the cloak wide with her arms and shrugged it off her shoulders – her robe was still damp, and was still clinging to her, and she’d still be cold…but she’d be moving, at least. When he’d clipped the sword to his back, she approached the large warrior and handed and oversized bundle of furs to him.

“Here…you can take this back,” she declared calmly. “I can’t move in this, not effectively.” She wasn’t trained in stealth, for certain, but she’d have no chance of moving carefully with that thing over her shoulders. Garret only smiled faintly and nodded – while he’d missed the event of Loriel receiving the cloak, he’d seen how big it was on her. When the cloak was taken from her hands, the elven mage nodded her thanks and moved closer to Varric.

“So…Varric, was it?” she began, her voice filled with a confidence she didn’t quite feel. “I’m Loriel, the mage assigned to Disa’s team. Are we headed back to Haven? Garret needs further treatment – I did the best I could, but I’m still learning a lot of things. This is my first field assignment, you know, and I only went through my Harrowing about a week before the Circles were dissolved, and-“

“Relax, kid,” Varic told her, cutting her off in a kindly manner. “We’ll get you all back to Haven. You can get cleaned up, healed, trained, re-equipped, whatever you need. I don’t know what Harding’s got planned for you, but I believe she’ll meet up with the scout teams at Haven so she can hand out new assignments.”

“Okay…good,” Loriel replied slowly, taking a deep breath to relax as Varric had suggested. “I need a new staff – mine’s somewhere in the Mire, likely never to be found – and my robes aren’t quite up to standard, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure either Threnn or Seggrit can fix you up with clothing and standard gear, Loriel,” Varric suggested smoothly. “For the staff, though…you might want to talk to Harrit instead, see if his people can help with the staff, although you may also want to chat with one of the Inquisition mages about a new staff in case Harritt can’t help – I’m not sure who we have, there. Mages who want to join the Inquisition are hard to come by.”

“Threnn or Seggrit…Harritt or otherwise ask a mage…got it,” the elven mage repeated carefully. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, kid,” Varric replied, and Loriel drifted towards the rear of the group as they slowly made their way out of the Fallow Mire.
 
Disa took his cloak back from Loriel, acknowledging her return of the cloak with a nod. The Mire was chilly and always damp, but he knew that Loriel was going t need some warmer gear if she was planning on spending any time in Haven. The temperatures there were freezing. Still, the trip wqould be long ewnough, especially with the wounded along for the ride, but Disa had no intention of leaving Garret behind. not after all that had gone on.

The Mire was long behind them. Disa sighed as they crossed the pass that led them towards Haven. It was comforting to some degree, seeing the base of operations, but still, if he was hoenst, he'd miss the Miree. It was enough like home to make him nostalgic. Still, the going had been faster than expected, but nto as fast as he'd have preferred. Still, the releif team had collected the scout team's stores, adn that left them enough food adn supplies to make the trip back as comfortable as possible. A few brief forays into the wild when they made camp had left Disa with enough time to bring in a little game, adding some much needed variety to their diet. A ram that he brought back had filled the stew pot well, and given him time to work on other projects. Cleaning and preparing the hide, the horns had been set aside, and he spent much of his night arranging the bones, as though trying to find a pattern to them that he could use. When asked by any of the party, Disa had gently rebuffed their interest, mostly because he had no idea what he was planning to do with them himself.

The party stepped through the gates of the wall, and Disa found himself standing before Harding, the dwarf looking at him expectantly, her arms crossed over her chest.
"Well sergerant? Report." She said flatly.
"Avvar contingent ma'am. Came for us. Outnumbered eight or ten to one. We made as good of an account of ourselves as we could, cut down a good number of them. Garret was wounded, and we lost Zander. I lost Zander. With your permission, once I've seen to my team, and gotten everything squared here, I'll carry word to his family. He was my responsibility, and I let him down." Disa answered. Harding sighed.
"Disa, you're a soldier, and so was he. And no, you will not carry word to his family, because all of the scouts are my responsibility. Settle your people, see to the living. I'll take care of the dead." Disa sighed, but nodded.
"Yes ma'am."
"Anythign else you need to report on?" Disa looked back at Loriel, and then back at Harding.
"I'll need a new member for my team. Preferrably one with some experience. Otherwise, no."
"Dismissed Sergeant." Disa nodded, and walked away from Harding, heading for the tavern. He had the need to get a large tankard of ale in him before he worried about anything else.

Harding smiled at Loriel and let her arms drop to her sides.
"Sounds you had it pretty rough for your first time out. You all right?" She asked the elf.
 
The trip back to Haven didn’t take as long as she’d thought it might. Or maybe it only seemed that way. The couple of weeks it took seemed to go by quickly, although Loriel found herself kept busy largely between looking after Garret, talking with Garret, and talking with Varric. The dwarf, in particular, was always good for a chat, it seemed, and he had plenty of tales to tell. Loriel wasn’t sure just how much of the tales was truth and how much was embellishment, but they all sounded good. She didn’t have much to do with Sera – the elven woman didn’t seem to want to do much with the dalish mage, and a lot of her chatter seemed to be filled with negative comments and snide remarks, something Loriel was happy to avoid. When they got to the Hinterlands they were taken to the Crossroads, and there Varric and Sera left them; they had to re-join the Herald’s party, and another Inquisition team would get them to Haven. Still, the Hinterlands seemed like heaven compared to the Mire…compared to Haven. At least Disa’s cooking was edible and palatable.

Haven…while southern Ferelden was generally cool, and the mire cool and wet, Haven was just cold. Up in the Frostbacks, nestled snugly between a couple of low peaks, the place was almost permanently covered in snow, it seemed. Yet there were people everywhere, and more coming in. Not that Loriel had time to enjoy the sights, as it were – Disa had taken his team straight to Harding to report. For a moment, Loriel thought he was going to ask for her to be assigned to a new team, but he didn’t – just asked for a replacement for Zander. Then he was gone, heading for the tavern, she wagered, and she found herself face-to-face with Harding.

“I suppose my first field trip could have been better,” the elf admitted slowly, gently rubbing at her cheek. The bruising had faded, leaving only a faint smudge, and it no longer felt sore or tender. She hadn’t bothered applying healing magic to herself, although she could have. It was a reminder to herself of her need to improve. “I’m okay, now, but earlier…” She paused, then sighed. “I’ll be okay. It was a rough trip. I don’t know what I was expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it. I’ll get better.”

Harding smiled faintly and nodded. “Good to hear it. Looks like you need some new gear, too?”

It surprised Loriel a little that the dwarven woman wasn’t being as hard or formal with her than she had been with Disa. She nodded again.

“Yes…these robes are all right for wearing in a tower, and on the road, but they’re not made for proper field work. I’ll also need to get a new staff, if we can find one for me.”

Harding raised an eyebrow slightly, then nodded sharply. “Go see Seggrit for new robes. We’ve got a few mages on board since you joined Disa’s team, and he and Threnn had worked with them to come up with what they’re calling a Battlemage outfit. Check it out. If Seggrit gives you grief about payment, tell him I’ll kneecap him if he doesn’t hand something over to you. The staff…check with Harrit in the smithy out the front. A couple of the new mages brought some designs with them, so he may be able to help you build a new staff using those and the resources the teams have been collecting along the way.”

Loriel smiled – the first smile she’d really felt for a while. “I will. Thank you, Harding.”

The dwarf smiled. “Don’t mention it, Loriel.” She turned and took a couple of steps away, then stopped and turned to face Loriel. “Oh…we’ve also picked up a few Templar and Templar recruits. Just thought I’d warn you; they may give you the evil eye for being a mage outside Chantry control.”

Loriel flushed and nodded her understanding. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll try to not take it personally.”

“I think you’ll do just fine, Loriel,” Harding noted, then turned and wandered off towards the Chantry building.

Loriel watched the dwarven Lead Scout walk away, then she smiled and looked around to get her bearings. Haven was crowded, bustling, and filled with all sorts: elves and humans and dwarves, men and women, Templars and warriors and rogues and the occasional mage. The Inquisition was nothing if not home for any who wanted to join its cause; Loriel knew that if she was ever going to call a place Home, the Inquisition would be her most likely chance.

First, though…a little shopping. She didn’t have a lot of coin on her, and she just had to hope Seggrit wasn’t given to charging high prices…
 
The ale went down smoothly. Disa wasn't paying much attention to the other patrons at the moment, just wanting the cold, refreshing taste of fermented hops to soothe out the lingering feelings of the mission. There was a word that one might use to describe his contribution to the task. Useless. Actually, less than useless, as his rescue had become a mission for the Inquisition. There were countless ways of looking at this logically, but none of them appealed to him for the moment. Right now all that came to mind was that he was one of the most experienced members of the scouting teams, and he'd still managed to create a complete fiasco. He set his tankard down, and stood up, leaving a sovereign on the counter to cover the cost, and heading out into the cold again.

He took a deep breath, the sharp bite of hte cold still feeling good to him. It wasn't home, but it was better than most places had been. Snow crunched underfoot, making it hard to miss his passage. There were innumerable ways to move quietly in this kind of weather and terrain, Disa knew most of them, but they weren't needed or appropriate at this point. SKulking around Haven was likely to get him quesrioned. Or shot t by some of the more paranoid guards.

The gate opened easily for him, letting him emerge into the cacophony of noise that was the training grounds. Disa picked out a few of the notable people in the mass of sparring fighters. Standing on the fringe of it all, was the Commander. CUllen would never be mistaken for anyone else to Disa. Cullen wore his past like a cloak around his shoulders. Ramrod straight, a soldier to the core. When he walked, the way he picked his moves without conscious thought betrayed the training that the Templars had given him, as was the way he instructed a warrior on the way to hold his shield. Disa smiled as he watched. The soldiers were coming along, they'd make reasonable fighters for the cause. He mentally picked out a few that seemed to be pushing themselves, ones that weren't followig hte standard training. These were the ones that He'd recommend co-opted into the scouting teams. Better to see that individuality nutured, not ignored or crushed.

Disa moved on.

He found Harrit supervising work on weapons and armour. As Disa stepped up, he pulled his pack from his shoulder.
"Disa. Good of you to come by. Anything for me?" Harrit asked. Disa opened his pack, and began to unload trhe contents.
"We were sidetracked, adn I couldn't get everything I wanted. But this should help some." Disa answered. Harrit was checking through the pile that was set out, adn nodded.
"Antler. A lot of antler. And some long bones. We can use these, so no problem Disa. Thank you. What can we do for you?"
"I'm all right for gear right now. But my team isn't. Can you use some of my credit towards them?"
"Of course! Who needs what?"
"Garret needs armour. Something better than the leathers he has. And the mage needs a staff." Harrit nodded.
"The Herald just got ahold of some good plans for some gear. We can whip a few things up I think. How do you want it?"
"Up to her. She should probably be by to talk to you about it." Disa nodded, adn backed away, letting Herrit start to lay out some material options for the eventual work he'd have. Disa flagged down a runner, and sent him off to find Loriel, and let her know that Harrit would be waiting for her to come down to get a staff built. Disa, on the other hand, started to head out into the cold, looking for some of hte scattered materials that were out there. He wanted to keep himself busy for now. Time enough to raise a drink for the fallen later, when the rest of his team was in better shape.
 
Once Harding had gone on her way, Loriel finally allowed herself to look around. She realised, to her annoyance and some caution, that she was standing near where soldiers – regular troops and former Templars alike – were performing drills, sparring with each other in a respectful but fevered manner. There were tents all around, easily big enough for three of four to sleep. She shivered slightly as the cold seeped through her almost-useless robes; they’d served her well in the Tower, they’d done a reasonable job in the Mire, they’d manager to continue serving on the trip back to Haven…but now her robes were nearing the end of their useful life. Standard mage robes had never been designed with extensive travel or wear-and-tear in mind.

At last the blacksmith was easy enough to find; just follow the stead column of smoke from the forge that was accompanied by the near-constant ringing of hammer striking metal. As she started towards the smithy, she noticed a couple of the soldiers stopped their training and glared at her – she knew instinctively that they were Templars, watching her every move. They looked so different, so normal, without their plate armour and full-faced helms, and yet the attitude remained the same. She gave them a wide berth as she continued on her way. She thought she saw Disa leaving the smithy as she drew near, but the man was gone before she got there. She approached a stocky human with a large floppy moustache and stopped a couple of paces from him, speaking only when she had his attention.

“Ummm…hi,” she began awkwardly, not sure how else to address the man now regarding her expectantly. “I-I’m from Disa’s scouting team. I need a new staff, and Harding said-“

“You’d be the one called Loriel, then,” he butted in, his voice rustic and matter-of-fact. “Disa said you’d be by. Harding left word, too. Good people, those two. What d’you need?”

“A…a staff,” Loriel repeated. “Mine – the one I had – is somewhere at the bottom of a bog in the Fallow Mire. Dropped it when I…” She paused, then sighed. “I just need a replacement. Can you help me?”

Harritt smiled faintly. “We’ve all got stories we don’t want to tell,” he agreed softly, before gesturing to a large workbench. “Picked up a few designs from scouting teams. The Herald brought a few more back. We’ve got materials in from the field, and a few staff shells brought in by some circle mages. Looks to me like you grab a shell, choose a core and sealer, fit a grip and blade to it, and you’ll be good to go…after a bit.”

Loriel nodded slowly. While she hadn’t studied staff construction, she’d heard a few things as rumours. “I’m sure I’ll be able to work something out,” she agreed carefully. “There’s just the matter of payment. I don’t have a lot of coin right now, but I’m sure I can-“

“Disa’s got that covered already,” Harritt informed her, cutting her off again. “Don’t worry about that. Pay him back if you have to pay anyone.”

“I…see,” the young mage noted, a touch reluctantly. She didn’t really want to be indebted to the large warrior, but there was nothing for it, now. “Thank you, Harritt.”

“Don’t mention it,” the smith replied dismissively. “You finish your design, and one of my boys will fix it up for you.” With that, the smith was gone, heading to a nearby anvil so he could bark instruction to an apprentice.

Loriel turned her attention to the bench. Scrolls of parchment were rolled up by the rear of the bench, neatly organised for each of retrieval. She’d be a fool to make a mess here. She pulled a few designs for staves out, flicked through them until she found one she liked. She’d always favoured electricity as her energy type, and iron was plentiful at the moment. Cotton to seal the ends of the staff. For the grip…a long leather one, made of canine hide and wrapped with cotton again. The blade...drakestone gave it a dark-red hue to match the colour of the wood, and bound with bear hide. It would do. She took the design and materials list to the smithy and found on of the apprentices ready to help out.

It took some time, over an hour, but the staff was finally ready and handed to the young mage. Others had come and gone, maybe even Disa, but Loriel had been focussed on the construction of her staff. She took it was great thanks, held it carefully in her small hands. She could feel the power in it, could feel some added confidence in her ability while holding it. The grip was firm, the blade crafted just right…and she smiled, genuinely smiled. She felt like a mage again. She slung it over her shoulder, the mystical strapping appearing as needed so that the weapon could be slung as required. The sun was dipping lower on the horizon, and she still had not replaced her robes. She had to find Seggrit before the merchant closed up for the night.

The merchant was getting ready to pack up by the time Loriel found him. Perhaps fortunately, the prospect of one more sale gave him cause to remain open…until her heard what Loriel was after.

“I run a business, not a charity,” he complained grumpily. “If it wasn’t for that Harding, and the Inquisition subsiding you mages…” He grumbled softly. “Come on, let’s see what we can get for you.”

Harding had been right, at least – there was an outfit Seggrit referred to as the Inquisition Battlemage. It was quite sturdy and functional: a long jacket and pants, and pockets everywhere; a strong belt around the waist, with multiple loops for potions and pouches, sturdy boots and gloves… she tried it on, and while it wasn’t sized exactly for a slender elf such as herself, it still fitted her quite well. She wasn’t the first to wear one, Seggrit noted, but she was only one of a half-dozen so far. It wasn’t too heavy, but it was heavy enough that it kept the cold of Haven out. The transaction was completed, and Loriel left the merchant to pack his wares away.

As she walked towards the Chantry building – it was the only building large and comfortable, even if she didn’t believe in Andraste or the Maker – Loriel smiled to herself. Finally, she felt like she belonged here…although convincing Disa of the same might be a bit more tricky.
 
It was dark out by the time Disa made his way back to Haven proper. He had found a few lumps of iron to break free, and a wealth of elfroot. He passed the elfroot off to the quartermaster, before delivering the iron right to Harritt. The smith nodded his thanks, and Disa knew that he had likely bumped up his account with the smith. Disa looked around to find Garret leaning against the fence that sat beside the forge. He crossed tot he scout.

"Surprised you're standing. Thought the healers would want you on bed rest." Disa observed.
"They did. Can't sit still sir. And I hear that you're helping to equip poor bastards like me." Garret observed with a strained smile. Disa nodded.
"I am. You clearly need better armour. Also maybe an upgrade in weapons."
"Wouldn't say no sir. But try to keep it light? I still need to be able to move quickly when the need arises."
"Agreed. Come on, let's have a look at what they have laid out, and we'll go from there."

Garret spoke to Harrit, explaining his preferences for weapons. A sword in one hand, a shorter blade int he other. Disa added in some recommendations, after seeing Garret in action. Materials were selected, and work began on the sword first.

Harrit spent most of his time overseeing the work fo the staff, but every now and then, he stepped up to keep his hand in and make a work on his own. And this time was one of them. The forge blazed with heat as the bellows worked, and Harrit lifted the ingots of metal. There hadn't been enough of the highest wuality metal, Paragon's Luster, on hand for a full blade, but there was enough to alloy into another material, improving the quality of it. Harrit hammered out each of the three ingots, two of iron, one of Luster, and then set them in a stack. The pile was put back into the forge, adn left ot heat. Garret watched in fascination, never having seen this kind of work done. Disa only smiled, but leaned back against the fence, folding his arms. It was something worth watching.

Harrit came back to the billet, one hand sprinkling a modest amount of sand onto the metal. The forge hissed at the action, but Disa knew that the type of sand being used would help keep the air out of the metal, ensuring a tighter weld. Harrit drew the billet out, and went to work, hammering the billet into a single solid bar of fused materials. With a nod, he drew out a hot-cut tool, and hammered it through the still glowing metal. He folded it over, and hammered it tight once more, placing it back in the coals. He repeat the process several times, layering up the metal repeatedly. After five such folds, there were nearly a hundred layers of metal in hte blade, and Disa nodded his approval. A fine blade indeed. Once that was finished, Harrit began to work on the swoard in earnest, stretching out the bar to a proper length. It was as wide as Garret's palm, and the length of both his forearms combined. There was a subtle curve that Harrit was working into the design, as per the recommendations offered. The tang of the blade was thick and heavy, making sure the blade would have a solid foundation. The bevels were hammered in, providing a good start to the cutting edge. Harrit placed the blade back on the coals, allowing it to heat up. He worked the blade in the coals, making sure the heat was distributed evenly. When he drew it out, he pluncged the blade into a barrel of oil. Heat simmered off of hte barrel, and the steady glow of hte blade faded. When harrit drew it back out, the blade was quenched and hardened. A quick inspection showed it to be free of warping or cracks. He handed it off to an apprentice for grinding to proper size. Harrit took up much smaller amounts of the same material, and began to work on the dagger that would be the twin of the blade.

Garret looked at one of the other craftsmen, seeing how they set out a much smaller amount of metal, Serpentstone this time, was laid out. This man set out to forge the hilt of the blade, making sure that it would fit Garret's hand easily. The design had been copied from some of the better established raiders in hte area, making a functional and effective hilt with little to no flash. Once it had been heated, the serpentstone had an almost golden hue to it, not as lustrous as bronze, but far harder. The sword was brough over from the grinding area of hte forge, and the hilt was fitted on. The end of hte tang was peaned over, forming it tightly to the blade. Garret held it, testing the feel of the blade. It was lighter than expected, but moved easily and smoothly. He nodded, and passed it back tot he craftsman. There was till a fair amount of work to be done on it, needing to be finshed on hte grind, adn etched properly. But there had been enough work done that Garret coudl retire back to his bunk in the infirmary. Disa nodded to Harrit, and walked away.

Disa used some of the credit he'd accumulated with Seggrit from some of his other trades to make sure that a set of Hunters Mail would be sent to Garret, despite the grousing of the merchant. Disa looked around Haven, taking in the low amount of activity since night had fallen. While he knew that he could find a place to rest outside of hte camp, he had some business to attend to with Harding. If she was in the village, she'd likely be in the Chantry, meeting with the upper command staff. The walk to the largest building in the village wasn't a long, one, and he ahd to marvel at the chantry. It was a spectacular waste of resources in his opinion. With the amount of stone and lumber that had gone into the place of worship, they could have errected a defensive wall to keep the place safer, and housed more people comfortably. Among his own people, they needed no places of worship like this. They carried what faith they had in their hearts, adn lived their faith. No sense in affirming that faith to others. You were square with your Gods, or you were not. Nothing would change that besides your own wishes.

He entered the building, stomping his feet to shake the snow from them. He'd been needlessly lectured on doing so by several of the Chatry sisters, and he had no desire to repeat the process. He cast his eyes around, picking out the people that stood to conduct their business, and picked out Loriel moving across the floor. She looked different in her new armour, much more...practical. As though she might actually be ready for the field this time. He crossed the floor swiftly, and nodded to her as he came closer.
"Mageling. I see you managed to find some better tools for the tasks at hand." He observed. "Harrit didn't give you any trouble about the staff, did he?"
 
She hadn’t realised Disa was nearby until she heard his voice from almost on top of her. It started her a little, but not too much – she hoped. The Chantry building was warm enough, and provided some comfort…enough that the elements were kept completely at bay, here; she did feel a little out of place, though, given she followed the Elvehn gods, and not the Maker of the humans. Indeed, Loriel had realised that she’d been offering a small prayer to June when she’d been working on her staff. And no-one here had given her any grief about it; there was even a murmured comment about Loriel being “…a bit like Solas” – whoever that was. She’d heard Varric and Sera talk a little about him on the journey from the Mire to the Hinterlands, but had never met him thus far.

She turned slightly to face Disa. In a way, it was a relief to see that he had barely changed since they’d returned. She hadn’t been specifically looking for him, but here he was.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head slowly. “None at all. He was quite good about it, in fact. Didn’t seem to have any trouble with me being a mage. He just pointed me to a bench, told me to find a design I liked and materials to build it, and to take it all to one of his boys to help construct it. I suppose making a staff is a bit more involved than making a sword – swords don’t channel magical energy, not normally. I know blades and bows can be enchanted to do that, but staves do it by design, and-“

She stopped, flushed slightly, then let her head drop slightly. “Sorry,” she offered apologetically. “I didn’t mean to go on like that.” She stopped and took a deep breath to slow her down. “The armour – such as it is – fits well enough. It’s certainly utilitarian and functional, and I seem to have good mobility in it. It’s good to have a staff I made, too – it feels more like mine. I guess you know what that’s like with your sword.”

The young made lifted her had to look into Disa’s eyes. “I…if you still want me in your team, I’m ready to go out. I know I’m still learning, but I will get better.”
 
Disa fought a smile at her words about the complexity of a staff. It was an easy assumption for a mage to make, not likely having much experience with blades.
"There is mroe to a sword than you might think Mageling. Ask Harrit about it sometime. Or get a good long look at the new blades that Garret will have." He point out to her, not trying to comment on her small ramble. He'd known worse crimes for a person to commit.

"A weapon is never really yours until you've really put it through it's paces. Once you've used it in battle, taken a life with it...then it's truly yours." he said with an air of calm, almost an edge of reverence to the words, as though it was a creed of some kind, something that he held close to his heart. The air of enthusiasm that she had for things made him think of someone else, someone long gone to him. He paused, closing his eyes, shaking off the memory, the wave of feelings that came with them, pushing them to the side, burying htem under the simmering anger that was always there in his mind. The byproduct of what he'd done to become who he was.

"You had best continue to get better. I demand no less than that from anyone on my team. You stop learning, you start dying." He said with a firm nod. He quirked a smile, the kind that he offered to someone that needed to know that he did indeed have a sense of humour. "Besides. If I got you transferred out now, I risk gettign someone even more useless, and who needs that aggravation?" He winked as he finished, and then paused. He reached high on his torso, and found the sheath and strap that held one of hte antler daggers that he'd made in the Mire, and tossed it to her. "Keep it close. Never know when an extra knife could be helpful." The weapons wasn't long, the blade maybe the length of Loriel's hand. The had a rough set of quilions, made byt the spreading tines of the antler. While the edges were sharpened, it looked to be a much better suited stabbing weapon. Fire harened, and oiled to make sure it stayed true, it was a surprisingly effective weapon given the more primitive materials that had gone into it.
 
For a moment, Loriel was a little confused – it seemed as though Disa was trying to make an effort to be vaguely personable with her. That was…unusual. Certainly nothing in her admittedly-limited experience with him had thus-far suggested he would hold anything but barely-disguised contempt for her. That he was talking lightly with her, winking at her…giving her one of his weapons as a back-up to her staff…it was all very…different. She wasn’t sure what to do with it. Sure, there was the backhand compliment about having to find someone “more useless”, that fit in with her general perception of him, but the rest was unusual.

“Thank you,” she finally offered quietly, as she took the blade in one of her small hands. Her eyes looked at him, a touch quizzically, as she tried to figure out how to proceed. The dagger felt more foreign in her hand than her staff had when she’d first taken it. The dagger was light, sure, and she had no doubt the blade would do some serious damage to a person, but…she had no idea how to use it effectively, at least not for fighting. She slipped the sheath inside her belt at her hip; she’d secure it to her belt later. “I’ll try to be worthy of the gift.” That’s what it was, she knew; it was evident in the way he’d spoken.

“I was scared, you know,” she continued after a few moments of silence, her voice now noticeably quieter than before. “Of you, of my magic, of being out of the Circle…of people relying on my skills and my magic. When my clan sent me on my way, I was scared. I was eight at the time. I knew very little at the time, barely enough to survive, but I somehow managed. Then Templars found me, and I was scared. I was taken to the Circle, and I was scared. I’ve been scared most of my life, since I came into my magic.”

She paused, then sighed. Why was she admitting this to him? He didn’t deserve to hear her fears, he wasn’t worthy of that trust.

“But here, in the Inquisition…I’m starting to feel like I actually might belong somewhere. I’m not going to waste this opportunity.”
 
She was offering some insight into herself, and that was a different thing to Disa. Most people didn't bother, they assumed that he didn't care and had no interest in knowing them farther than was needed to get the job done. That wasn't always true, or, if he was being honest, even often. He held faith with his people, and would fight to keep them safe. The better he knew them, the more likely he was to know their limitations. He cocked his head as she finished explaining how often she was afraid of things. And it was a lot.

"Think on this Mageling. Courage, real bone deep courage, isn't an absence of fear. It is the conquest of it. Being afraid of things you don't fully understand, things you might be struggling to control, isn't a weakness. It's sensible. It's only a weakness if you let that fear control you. Keep that in your mind. ANd if anyone tells you that they have no fear at all...they're either lying to you, or unhinged enough you should keep your distance." Disa offered.

That she was settling into the Inquisition was a good thing. On some level anyway. Disa wasn't sure what the future might hold, whether the Inquisition would endure beyond the hole in the sky, the Breach, or if once the purpose was completed it would disband, throwing the members to the winds. He opted not to voice that line of thought.
"Having a purpose is a powerful thing. Having a purpose that means something to the rest of the world, even more so. We're making a difference with this job." He paused before speaking again. "You are making a difference in this job."
 
She listened as he spoke. There was a certain wisdom in his words, she recognised that – but putting that wisdom into practice wasn’t so easy. Learning how to overcome – to best – her fears wasn’t going to be easy. True, she wasn’t scared of so many things now, but there was likely more to come. One of those fears had turned into a mixture of hate and contempt – the feelings for her own magical ability. She’d been afraid of her magic at first, even though she’d been quite comfortable with Keeper Shillei’s magic: watching the Keeper use magic was one thing; having magic of your own was something completely different, especially when it caused you to be exiled from your home and family. Ten years in the Circle hadn’t managed to teach her to appreciate her own ability.

Her ears pricked up, though, at his last comment, and she turned her gaze on him, searching his face to see if that was another back-handed compliment he’d just given her. It didn’t seem to be; he appeared to be giving her a genuine compliment, or at least an honest appraisal…there didn’t seem to be any hidden insult at all. She felt her cheeks flush slightly as she cast her gaze towards the floor.

“Well, I…thank you,” she mumbled quietly, not used to hearing positive words from him. “I try; I’ll keep trying. That’s all I can do.” She paused, mulling over her thoughts for a few seconds. Should she tell him…?

“What confuses me, though…is just how I learned those last two spells I used in the fight,” she admitted. “It’s as if Dirthamen himself just…revealed the knowledge to me, exactly when I needed it. I didn’t really know those spells existed until I cast them, expended the will to create the magical patterns and energy necessary. I…I don’t know how I knew to do what I did.” She returned her gaze to him, this time a curious expression on her young face.

“I suppose that means I’m growing…but what am I growing into?” She didn’t expect he’d have an answer, but it felt better having asked the question.
 
Disa shrugged at her words about having divine aid. He wasn't against the idea of her getting some kind of aid in that regard, but he had seen the effect of some that claimed to channel the divine through them. It usually ended poorly.

"You're growing into an Elf. An elf mage that some might have called 'apostate' once upon a time, but you're doing it in ways that very well might have been used before we decided that mages all needed to be taught a certain way. Keep this up and you might wind up being a member of my team that I can respect. Maybe even buy a drink for at some point. Until then, keep yourself alive. And get some rest. Can't say that we'll be back in Haven long enough to get a good night's sleep very often, so enjoy it while you can. Oh, and here." He tossed a wound bundle of hides at her. There were a few wooden poles in the middle of it, marking it as a likely tent. "No sense in you not being ready for expeditions. And the Gods know we can't trust Seggrit to keep you supplied. Get some practice setting that up and taking it down again. You'll want to be able to set up and break camp quickly." With that, Disa gave her a smile and a nod, and took his leave.

Disa gave himself a shake outside of the Chantry building. It was easy to fall inito a state of comfort around Loriel, there were reminders there of a time long past, adn he wasn't eager to revisit that line of thinking. He had too much work to do. With that thought, he set off.

Disa shifted his weight, finding another handhold on the cliff face. He'd yet to find a bluff he couldn't climb, and he wanted ot have a place to sleep with a good range of vision to the village. He pulled himself up again, finding himself on the top. He could see the field of tents that belonged to the general soldiery, knowing that most of the higher ups would be sleeping warm adn dry in the Chantry, or in the smaller cabins near it. The noted exception would be the Commander. Cullen was frequently seen pacing the grounds after training, speaking to the soldiers, getting to know his people. Templar or not, Disa had to respect him. He sighed, adn turned to setting up his tent. It was getting to be chilled enough that he was looking forward to some sleep. He knew he'd have to see what recruits Harding had for him in the morning. Hopefully someone with some experience. With that thought, he let himself drift to sleep.
 
It was tempting to make some smart-arse comment as Disa talked about respecting her, but Loriel bit the idea off quickly, before the words could form in her mouth. He had just given her what could be considered a compliment, and maybe some praise, and she wasn’t going to ruin it by being a smart-arse. The idea alone that he was being nice to her was surprising enough. As the young mage watched the hulking warrior walk away, she wondered whether Disa wasn’t actually starting to appreciate her, just a little bit.

Then there was the tent he’d passed to her. It looked as awkward as anything else she’d tried or seen. A mass of stitched-together hides, a few poles to hold it up, a few ropes to tie it down and stop it being blown away by the first breath of wind that came her way…wasn’t there something easier? And how was she supposed to carry it? Tucked up under her arm wasn’t going to work for more than a few hundred feet, nevermind the miles they might travel together. At least the poles looked crafted such that they could be pulled apart and put back together…that might make it a little easier to carry – once she figured out how.

She walked away from the camp a little, a bit away from the main thoroughfare, so she could have a go at setting up her tent, to see if she could manage it and not have it fall on top of her. It wasn’t easy; just unwinding the bundle and getting all the bits and pieces out took her a few minutes. Then she just…stood and looked at it, as if she was trying to work out a puzzle – which she was, in truth. She’d just started to make some sense of it when a voice, soft and gentle and wise, spoke from just behind her.

“You will learn by doing it, not by looking at it,” the voice said. Loriel turned quickly to see another elf, a man, standing near her, watching her. Like her, he carried a staff; unlike her, he was dressed in simple clothes, almost rags by comparison to her new battlemage outfit.

“Andaran atish’an, young one,” the man continued, his voice filled with serenity. “I am called Solas. If the rumours are true, you are the mage that recently returned from the Fallow Mire with Sera and Varric, yes…?”

Loriel blinked slowly. “Andaran atish’an, Solas,” she replied politely. “I am called Loriel. There are rumours about me already?”

Solas chuckled quietly. “Not many. It was known that a couple of Inquisition teams had been lost or captured in the Mire; the Herald and a few companions went to ensure that none of the Inquisition were lost for any longer than necessary. I am glad to see that you are unharmed.”

“Not completely unharmed,” Loriel admitted grudgingly. “We lost a member of our squad, and I took a solid punch to the head. I have fully recovered, however, and I have discovered I learned more than I thought I might.”

“Then the trip would be considered a partial success,” Solas ventured. “The loss of a life is always regrettable, but the instruction gained is always valuable.”

“I suppose we can agree on that,” Loriel replied slowly. “You…you’re a mage as well?”

Solas nodded. “Yes. Like you, I am an apostate. Like you, I joined the Inquisition of my own free will, although I suspect my motives for doing so are far different to yours.”

Loriel tilted her head in curiosity. “Why do you think I joined of my own will?”

Solas smiled faintly. “You have a tent, you have a weapon, and you are not in chains or under guard. That suggests you are not here against your will.”

“Fair enough,” Loriel conceded. “As you’ve likely been here longer than me…any suggestions?”

“Watch the people around you, Loriel,” Solas offered sagely. “Learn from them. Mind their words and actions, but make your own choices. Ultimately you will succeed or fail from your own decisions, not from those around you.”

“Sound advice,” Loriel agreed after a few moments of thought. “Thank you, Solas.”

“Not at all, young one,” he replied. “But for now, I shall take my leave and let you resolve the puzzle of the tent. Dareth shiral, Loriel.”

“Dareth shiral, Solas,” Loriel agreed, bowing her head politely. With that, the other mage turned and departed casually. Loriel watched the other elf depart, then returned to the puzzle of the tent.

It took her a couple of hours and several attempts to get the hang of setting it up and pulling it down. Eventually she thought she had it worked out, and took a turn at sleeping in it. It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared.
 
Morning came soon enough to Haven. Disa emerged from his own tent, looking out at the glittering field of white that was stretched out before him. It had snowed a little, not a huge amount, but enough to coat most of the outside region with fresh snow. There were still some patrols, a few camp fires still burning, but most of Haven was quiet. It was a rare moment, and he valued that more than he might admit. There was precious little quiet in the midst of civilized folks, and despite it's rarity, they all seemed incapable of valuing it.

Disa gave himself a slight shake. He ahd to stop himself sometimes from idealizing his own people. They were some of hte loudest and most aggressive people in all of Thedas, they had little use for silence unless they were hunting. At rest or camp they were anything but silent. He let himself smile. Time to get to work.

He was most of hte way past the camp when he heard a faint throat clearing. He turned to the sound, seeing one of the only forms that was larger than himself.
"Silverfire." Iron Bull, the resident Qunari warrior acknowledged simply.
"Bull. Something I can do for you?" Disa asked in an equal tone. There was a faint tension between the two of them. Disa had shared a few drunken nights with the Bull's Chargers, and a few more with Iron Bull himself, and anyone who knew them both had expected them to be fast friends. But it wasn't quite to be.
"Does there need to be? Maybe I just wanted to say hello."
"Doubtful. What is it your masters want to know?" Iron Bull let out a sigh.
"Not everything I see and hear goes back to my people Disa. Let's face it, not everything that happens here is nearly interesting enough to keep my handlers happy." Disa left his expression neutral. "Damn it man, we can both get drunk and revel through the night, kill our enemies, but why can't you trust me even a little?" Disa felt himself smile a moment.

"Because I come from a people that still remember yours. Not every clan can trace itself back to when the Kossith were in the Korcari Wilds, but mine can. We remember your people, we recall them then, and we recall each and every time you've come to try and enforce your Qun on the rest of us. And you acknowledge to be Ben-Hassrath. I believe that you are here to help. But I also believe you will betray us in an instant if it better serves your people or you are ordered to do so. So I will buy you an ale from time to time in honour of your fighting. But I will not share anything with you I would not share with an enemy." Disa explained. Iron Bull looked at him with a strange expression on his face. It was hard to say what was going through his mind, Qunari were hard to read. Some called them Ox-men, which Disa felt was unfair. After all, an Ox-man would at least be half a man. The Qunari were inhuman to the core.
"Good luck on your next mission Disa. It's going to get more dangerous from here." Bull answered quietly.
"It always does. Good luck to you in most of your endeavours Iron Bull." Neither man spoke again as DIsa took his leave, heading into Haven proper.

It didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for. A quick meal, and one of the other scouts. Saren was his name, an older man in his late forties, but one of hte best warriors with a spear that Disa had met. If Lorilei was going to risk getting caught in close in battle, then it would pay off to make sure that she knew how to use the more mundane aspects of her staff.

Disa looked out at the various tents, finding the one most likely to be hers. It had the look of a tent that had not been set up many times before. It would hold for normal day to day use, but it would never stand up to heavy winds or even heavy snow. He kicked the leading tent string, popping it loose from it's peg, and sending the tent tumbling in on it's occupant.
"Rise and shine Mageling. There's work to be done today." He announced in a calm voice, fighting a smile on his face.
 
She heard footsteps around her tent – that was the first she knew of her awareness of her surroundings. Had she slept much? Hard to know. Loriel knew she’d woken up a couple of times during the night, but had gone straight back to sleep. And there was now daylight filtering through the tent walls and roof. She stirred, groaned softly, stretched a little to try and ease some life back into wary muscles. Generally…she felt rested. Could have been better, but definitely wasn’t worse. She was unable to suppress the yawn as she pushed herself up on her elbows.

Through her tent walls the mage could see shadows moving around. Life was coming back to Haven again as people woke with the sun. She could hear general chatter, light laughter, someone whistling an unknown tune. The smells of cooking nearby slowly invaded her senses, caused her stomach to start grumbling with hunger. Her staff – the one she’d made herself – was lying next to her on the floor of the tent. She blinked at it and rubbed her eyes to clear them…then she sighed to herself. She’d need to find Disa soon, see what was happening with their team, find out about their next-

“ARRGH! What the…!”

Her cry of annoyance and confusion sounded exactly one second after her tent collapsed on top of her. Had she heard the sound of something being kicked right before her tent collapsed? She’d certainly heard words, though. She couldn’t remember, and wasn’t in a position to try it. Instead she scrambled to try and find the tent opening, her arms pushing the material away as she struggled to sit, then kneel, and then orient herself with where she knew the tent flaps to be. It took her a few moments before she found what she was looking for. She pushed her head and shoulders through the opening and looked up, her eyes squinting slightly in the sudden light. Fortunately she’d slept in her tunic and a set of light pants…she wasn’t revealing anything she might not have wanted to.

“You…! What was that for?” She wasn’t angry, just…she didn’t know. Disa actually seemed to be in a good mood, and that knowledge alone seemed to take the edge off her own annoyance. Although…was he in a good mood? Hard to tell. He wasn’t smiling, but then she didn’t suppose he ever did smile. Her expression was equally not angry, although, as she knelt in the middle of the pile of material that was her tent and peered up at the large warrior, there was no small amount of puzzlement on her features.
 
Disa still had a smile on his face as he watched the fallen tent thrash around as she tried to extricate herself from the mess that the fallen tent left her in. It didn't take her all that long to pull herself into the stark light of the morning, He could ahve done worse to her, collapsed it more awkwardly onto her, but he'd kept it simple. This was a lesson in some ways, anything else would just be malice, and he didn't feel it needed at this point in time. When she managed to get herself out, she demanded answers from him, though seemed to be taking it better than some might have assumed.

"It got you out here quickly, didn't it?" Disa asked idly, raising his brows to the question, accentuating the words. "And consider it a small lesson. I only had to flick the cord with my foot to send the whole tent tumbling in on you. More practice into setting it up would be a good plan." He advised. Soren was looking into the sky, seeming to ignore all the conversation between Disa and Loriel. Whether it as out of respect or disinterest, Disa didn't know, and it didn't really matter.

"Mageling, this is Saren. He's one of the best spearmen in the Inquisition, and he's agreed to try and see what he can teach you about fighting with your staff when you're not working magic through it." Disa said by way of introduction. Saren turned his gaze back to Loriel, and cocked his head, looking her over as he seemed to be appraising her. Whatever his thoughts, he didn't wear them on his face to be picked out easily.
"Get some food in you. Breakfast. COme back here, and I'll put you through some paces, drills. Get you up to speed." He said in a gruff, almost clipped tone. He seemed like someone used to having his instructions followed.
 
Great…another person appearing to be disinterested in her existence. Loriel was starting to get used to the idea that being detached was just Disa’s way – Garret had helped a lot with that concept – but this Saren seemed to be cut from the same mould…or at least had been similarly absent when compassion and empathy was being allocated.

As Disa had spoken, the young mage had managed to extract herself from her small, crumpled tent without much difficulty. She knew Disa was largely right about her tent-setting skills, but she’d never set one up before last night, so of course her first few efforts weren’t going to be anything ground-breaking…she let his observation slide. The tent lay in an unruly heap behind her as Disa introduced the newest member of the squad she was still a part of, and she was under no illusion, as Saren spoke in his gruff tone, that he’d view her with as much regard as Disa had (and probably still did). Maybe being gruff and detached was just Saren’s way as well. Loriel sighed softly as the spearman finished speaking and nodded her head slightly…although she was not going to be some weak city-elf who just followed instructions blindly.

“Loriel,” she introduced herself simply. “But if you’re anything like our sergeant, I expect you’ll not address me by name. I’ll meet you back here after I’ve eaten.” She nodded her head again, curtly, then turned on her heel and headed off. The thought occurred, as she walked away, that she should have attended to her tent first, but she’d now have to deal with that later.

For his part, the spearman merely raised his eyebrows at the mage’s words and departure. If other heads nearby had turned to watch the two interact, Saren gave no indication of noticing. He watched her departing form for a few seconds, then shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly as he turned and wandered casually through the rows of tents. Her tent was not his problem. Her skill with magic was not his problem. Her sill with her staff WAS his problem, however, as was her general attitude. Harding seemed to regard the young mage well enough, as did Garret; it was hard to know where their sergeant sat on the matter. He glanced briefly at Disa, then slowly made his way towards what passed for the training area, and proceeded to watch the troops that Commander Cullen was putting through basic drills. He’d catch up with the mage – Loriel – in a little while.

There was a small, makeshift mess area near the quartermaster’s tent, and the elven mage made her way towards it. Other Inquisition people were gathered loosely in the area, a lot of them, like herself, scouts from Harding’s teams – she could tell from their general attire and manner. She didn’t really know any of them, though – Loriel had joined the Inquisition and been allocated to Disa’s group within a couple of days of her arrival, and then the squad had been shipped out to the Fallow Mire a day or two after that. The young mage hadn’t really had time to meet anyone of note. Therefore she was a little surprised to hear a deep and semi-familiar voice behind her and actually address her.

“So…how are you holding up, kid? You doing all right, now?”

Loriel turned around and looked down to where the voice had come from, and found herself again facing the grizzled dwarf that had helped pull them out of the Mire. She smiled faintly and gave a slight nod of her head.

“I…I think so, yes,” she replied, a little uncertainly. “Better than when we first met, definitely.” She paused, then tilted her head to one side. “It...it’s Varric, right?”

The dwarf looked up slightly and nodded his head briefly. “That I am, kid,” he agreed lightly. “Wasn’t sure you’d remember; there were times when you seemed to fade on us between the Mire and the Hinterlands.”

Loriel snorted softly as she took a plate of basic hot porridge with a couple of slices of toasted bread. “I had my moments, I’m sure,” she conceded quietly. “That hit to the head was harder that I thought, and it’s not easy to heal yourself.”

“I’ll have to take your word for that, kid,” Varric noted drily. “We’re just happy that you pulled through.”

Loriel nodded quickly as she made her way to a bench, the dwarf right behind her; he was apparently happy to join her for breakfast. “Who’s that big guy…the one with the horns and the blue-grey skin?”

Varric chuckled softly. “Him? That’s The Iron Bull. He’s a qunari. Picked up him and his company, the Bull’s Chargers, on the Storm Coast a little while ago.” The dwarf paused to swallow a mouthful of porridge. “And, yes, it’s ‘The’ Iron Bull. I asked him about it once – he likes the article at the front, makes him seem like he’s not really a person, blah blah… Me, I think he’s a big softy under that rough exterior, but don’t tell him I said that.”

Loriel snorted and shook her head. “Doubt I’ll be getting that close to him to find out what he’s really like,” she observed between mouthfuls. “Harding’s going to put us back on the road soon, I’ll wager. Once Disa gets the team filled, we’ll be heading out.” She took a bite of bread, chewed then swallowed, then sighs softly. “I just have to work at being more useful than I was last time.”

“Just don’t wear yourself out on the way to getting better, kid,” Varric advised sincerely. “By all means work on improving, but you won’t help anyone if you burn yourself out on the way.” He scraped the last of his porridge from his bowl and spooned it into his mouth. “No good ever came from people being pushed too hard. You need to find that balance that lets you learn without stress. Not an easy task, I know.”

Loriel smiled warmly at the dwarf. She was starting to genuinely like him, even if she wasn’t sure the feeling was mutual…although she doubted he’d have joined her for breakfast if he found her repulsive. “Thanks, Varric. For your company and your conversation.”

The dwarf grinned and stood, taking his plate with him. “Always happy to chat, kid.” He moved to leave, then paused. “Oh…have a chat with Solas, too…maybe Vivienne as well. They’re both mages, although they’re very different types of mages. I’m sure they can both give you some insight into how to improve your magic.” With that, Varric bobbed his head politely and walked away.

Loriel was content to sit on her own for a few moments as she finished eating, then tidied up after herself and headed off to find Saren.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom