Near the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Village of Haven, Kingdom of Ferelden, 9:41 Dragon
The red-haired woman left the room once the morning had settled fully into the sky.
The apostate mage sat in silence on an uncomfortable wooden chair, his travel pack resting on his lap and far too much information crowding his mind.
For most people, information was a way to represent reality. A naive assumption, Solas thought. Rarely was it so. More often, information did not seek to reflect reality, but to construct it.
Sometimes, of course, it mirrored things accurately. Other times… not so much. But what it always managed to do (and this was the true source of its power) was to forge connections between people. And that was precisely what Solas was doing now: forging a connection with this group. A connection that would allow him to understand, with clarity, what was truly happening.
Because the explosion had been catastrophic… And he was almost certain that only his Orb could have caused it.
The door swung open, cutting through his thoughts. A dark-haired woman strode in with purpose. Solas noted the heavy armor, the tension in her jaw, the scar crossing her face. A human warrior, without a doubt.
The redhead (Leliana, if he recalled correctly) entered behind her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
- He offered his help willingly, Cassandra. At least hear him out.
The warrior stood in front of him, arms crossed, face tense, voice merciless:
- Leliana tells me you gave up your staff willingly.
The woman now held the weapon Solas had handed over. He simply nodded. No need to speak with such uncultured minds. Only to manipulate, if necessary.
- And you are an apostate - she added.
Another nod.
- Where were you at the time of the explosion?
- I already told you, Cass…- Leliana's voice came in, tired. - He was seen in a village near the site. We have witnesses. He's not lying.
No, he was misleading.
- Leliana says you've requested to study the only survivor of the explosion. - Cassandra continued.
Solas nodded again, and the warrior sighed heavy, exasperated.
- What is it you want with the prisoner?
- I want nothing - the mage answered for the first time, letting his tone suggest uncertainty over how to address her.
She sighed again, and in the glint of her eyes Solas saw it: fear, doubt. And something close to despair.
- Call me Seeker.
A Seeker of Truth.
Solas nodded, recalling what he'd read during the past year about the hierarchies of Andrastianism, the dominant religion in Thedas. Seekers were the militant arm of the Chantry, tasked with enforcing its internal correction.
Good. Military mind. Structured thought. Easier to handle.
- I want nothing, Seeker - he corrected. - I came to you of my own will because it is the right thing to do. We are all in danger if that rift in the Veil continues to expand. Sitting idly by is unwise.
Connection.
Solas was building, with calculated precision, a connection with this group that clearly had a mission. He needed to be seen as indispensable, an advisor in arcane matters they could not afford to ignore.
They didn't know it (and if he had his way, they never would), but if that explosion had truly been caused by his Orb… Then things were far worse than anyone here could imagine.
- I only ask permission to study the prisoner - he said calmly. - If there's a way to close the Breach, I intend to find it. I specialize in the forces of the Fade. I offer my knowledge, should it be of any help.
- Solas is right about the Breach expanding - Leliana added. There was honest fear in her eyes. - He believes it could 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 her responsibilities crush her beneath the day's grief. Everything had been chaos for hours. Solas did not envy the burden of leadership.
- If you have no objections, I'll authorize his request.
- Objections? - Cassandra let out a dry laugh, bitter and tired. - If you truly came here to save this world… how could I object?
- I don't intend to save the world, Seeker - he said, flatly. - Only to seek answers, if my knowledge might help.
For a moment, Leliana watched him in silence. Not with approval. With calculation. Just a flicker. But enough for Solas to understand: this woman was far more dangerous than she appeared. And he remembered something important: it was always the quietest birds that hunted best. They called this one the Nightingale.
She played the "good soldier," while the brunette wore the "bad soldier" mask. A classic tactic: hiding the deadliest weapon behind a gentle facade. The little red-feathered bird was, without doubt, a lethal blade.
Pity she was up against a wolf.
- Listen, Solas - the warrior said, drawing him back. - I don't know you. I don't know your intentions. But I do know Leliana, and she's vouching for you.
She took a deep breath, as if that alone were a concession too great.
- You'll understand that I can't return your staff; not with all the chaos between mages and templars. But I will allow you to examine the prisoner.
The apostate nodded, expression unreadable. How quaint, he thought, believing she was safe merely because he lacked a focus. A staff was useful, yes… But unnecessary. With or without the Veil, Solas knew many ways to kill. Magic was only the most elegant.
- Come with me - the Seeker said at last. - I'll take you to her.
They passed through the chapel and descended to the lower levels, where the cells were held. It was dark and damp, the scent of mold and dried blood thick in the air. Torches flickered, casting dim light. Solas resisted the urge to conjure flame and illuminate the space more fully.
Cassandra moved with purpose toward one of the cells, stepping ahead of him. Solas curled his lips slightly, a silent rebuke for her naive trust. Turning your back on a stranger, on Fen'Harel, was a dangerous thing indeed.
- It's her - she said.
Solas stepped beside the Seeker and looked down at the only survivor of the Conclave explosion.
To his dismay... she was Dalish.
He barely suppressed a grimace. Of all the beings in this world, why her? A Dalish elf marked with the vallaslin of Ghilan'nain. He was tempted to roll his eyes, to sigh, but of course, his expression remained perfectly controlled.
- She hasn't woken since we brought her in - Cassandra explained. - But she was found at the center of the blast.
Then Solas saw it, the faint green glow in the palm of her hand.
- May I? - he asked, gesturing toward the cell. Cassandra nodded and unlocked it with a heavy iron key.
They entered. Solas knelt beside the sleeping elf. He placed his hand gently near her forehead and closed his eyes, letting the arcane energies flow. After all, he was a dreamer mage, though they didn't know that.
She was deep in the Fade. Not merely unconscious. Meditating. A true state of focus, unlikely for one of this world. He wondered how she had managed it.
What had brought her here?
At last, he turned back to the warrior.
- She won't wake anytime soon. She's drained - he said. - Whatever happened in that temple, it nearly emptied her mana.
- Mana? - Cassandra echoed, raising an eyebrow. - She's a mage?
- So it seems, Seeker.
She sighed, pacing. Her eyes drifted to a horizon filled with impossible tasks. Then she admitted:
- Listen, Solas. I have more on my plate than I can handle. The mage-templar war hasn't given us a moment of peace... and now, the Divine is dead.
Solas nodded in silence.
- Something tells me you're a reasonable man. That you won't try to escape.
She looked at him.
- I'll let you examine her. But you'll stay inside the cell. Precaution.
- If she wakes, I won't let her run - he replied bluntly. - I dislike cages. They make me… uncomfortable. But you can trust that I won't let her escape.
- Trust me, as I'm trusting your intentions - the Seeker said.
Solas gave a faint smirk. He did not want to be locked in.
- We're strangers, it seems. Forced to cooperate. But I won't remain inside a locked cell. I appreciate being allowed to see her. But I won't surrender my freedom. I hope you understand.
Cassandra frowned, but did not argue.
- You're cautious - she said at last. - And distrusting.
- No more than you, Seeker. No more than you.