Chapter Text
Chapter 2: Skyhold
From the moment of his arrival at the mountaintop fortress, Abelas found himself the subject of far too much interest for his liking.
He was granted access without incident, a testament to the sincerity of the Inquisitor's offer. That was a reassurance, a strike in favor of his decision to embark on what had great potential to be madness. Yet though he caught sight of many elves – a number of whom borevallaslin– his presence was a novelty,
or so he judged from the lingering stares as he was led up the central steps into the keep. Small groups had gathered to glimpse him and whisper amongst themselves, and though his hood stayed firmly about his ears, there was no shortage of the word 'elf' being tossed about.
His wariness had always served him well, and he saw no reason to engage with any of the onlookers unless necessary. As the great hall opened before him, he took quick stock of his surroundings. The tapestries and statuary were impressively well-kept, and he feigned interest in a large one near the hearth, watching the exchange out of the corner of his eye as his escort was dismissed and a man took her place.
"Well!" The new greeter leaned against the hearth, smirking broadly beneath a dark mustache. "You must be the new arrival."
Abelas turned, assessing him and the air of aggressive interest he was directing at his person. "I am."
"Wonderful. Eve's told me of you, you know, and I've been positivelydyingto meet you." He came up off the wall, spreading his palms and bowing shallowly. "Forgive my manners. Dorian Pavus, resident prodigal son and amateur librarian. And you are?"
"Abelas," he replied shortly. "Where is the Inquisitor?"
Chuckling, Dorian walked ahead and waved a hand. "Impatient, are we? No matter, I'll get a proper conversation out of you soon enough."
Abelas followed him through the halls, committing the path to memory out of pure instinct. Their intended destination wasn't far, and his guide deposited him in front of a pair of iron-barred doors with a wink.
"Welcome to the War Room. Good luck."
"...and that's the tavern," Eve explained, pointing to a massive structure to their left. "You'll want something cleaner, but Bull has a room there. So does Sera – Ah, she's an elf too, but she's... well, you'll see."
She led him around the parapets, the bird's-eye tour having started from the moment they left the keep proper. Her advisors had taken some convincing, but she'd been vehement. It had worked – and now the Inquisitor couldn't keep the excitement from her voice or expression, walking backward half of the time to better see him in the flesh, in the waking world, within reach.
As they paused to better take in the scene below, Eve tilted her head and smiled, enjoying the sight of him surveying the world within the high walls.
He turned to her, frowning. "What?"
"I'm glad you came, Abelas."
Something flickered across his face at his name, and Eve waited as he studied her face in what she had come to recognize as deep thought. After a moment, he took a step closer, wearing a curious expression.
"I wonder that you would take me in so easily, so readily."
"I don't." The breeze caught her hair as she moved closer to the inner edge, watching those in the sparring ring below. "I can't explain what it is or why, but I feel something pulling at me, calling me to you. And that same feeling is how I met most of these people, who, as it turns out, are some of the best things that have ever happened to me."
He joined her, hands clasped behind his back. They observed the goings-on of the training arena, watching as the new recruits came at Blackwall one at a time with wooden longswords. After tidily disposing of each almost embarrassingly quickly, he ordered them into lineup for a second go-round. The looks on their faces was pitiful, and Eve had to stifle a snicker. Blackwall was an excellent teacher, even if his students couldn't appreciate it while exhausted and sore.
"This Solas," Abelas said, interrupting her reverie. "Tell me about him."
"Ah," she sighed, "you're going to regret asking that."
The tour continued for some time more, their slow steps and conversation moving them forward until they reached the final stop for the day.
"This is the mage's tower," Eve explained, gesturing to the bookshelves and polished tables. "It has a library, resource stocks, various equipment, anything that the mages here might find useful in their study."
It was empty at the moment, and so they went undisturbed as she led him up the stairs to the topmost floor. Waiting was a well-furnished bedroom, fire already burning and warm in its welcome.
"And this room is yours, if you want it."
Hisroom. Hisroom?
Surprised, he looked up from the bookshelf. "I assumed that I would be housed in the barracks, with the ranks."
"I thought you might want something quieter."
He surveyed the room, slowly crossing to inspect the view from the eastern window. "I enjoy quiet. Iappreciateprivacy."
"Good, then it's settled." She sat back against the desk. "I'll tell the servants that someone's staying here now. Don't want to startle them, or I'll get a lecture from Josephine again."
"Servants," he asked slowly, "not slaves?"
"Servants," she repeated. "Housed, fed, and paid fair wages. No slaves,especiallynot elven ones."
She watched in silence as he sat on the bed, leaning forward and lowering his hood with long, nimble fingers. He lost himself in thought as the thick mattress – a luxury, after open nights in the Wilds – sank beneath him. She had vociferously spoken in his defense to her council, and then that moment, on the parapets -
'Something called me to you, Abelas.'
The way she had spoken his name with such familiarity, such warmth, had undeniably satisfied a part of him that he hadn't even been aware was lacking. And the forces she commanded, the change she could effect...
"I will help you."
Smiling, she crossed her arms. "Help me what? Protect the elves? Find Solas? Save the world?"
The quick smirk that that elicited was gone as soon as it was there. "Whatever you may need of me. I am at your disposal."
"Good." She straightened, smoothing out her robes. "Best to settle in now, then - we're setting out at dawn to see what you can do. Cullen's orders."
Eve fell onto the sofa, letting out a long sigh as her limbs sank deep wherever they fell.
The murals spanning the rounded walls had remained one of her favorite spots to sit and process, despite their artist. It had taken a while for the anger and pain to ebb, as well as the urge to whitewash the entire damn thing. Sera had offered to vandalize it with creative vulgarities, and though the Inquisitor had declined at the time, she was sure the offer still stood, should she change her mind.
He actually came, she mused as she let her head rest against the upholstery. From the moment he'd stepped into the war room, he'd felt like an old friend she hadn't seen in ages. She'd been unsure about meeting in the waking world, but aside from the urge to reach out and pinch his face to reaffirm his solid state, it seemed that nothing was different in the least. If anything, she felt comforted by his presence.
"Your friend isfascinating," came a voice from behind her. "People skills could use some work, if I had to nitpick."
She smiled, leaning back to greet the Tevinter mage upside-down. "You've met?"
"Brought him to you myself. You're welcome." He turned Solas' chair to face her, sitting in it artfully. "I must say, his backside is exquisitely shapely for someone pushing two thousand. Is it better or worse in the Fade?"
She raised an eyebrow, slinking against the arm of the furniture. "I'm not exactly in the frame of mind to be looking, remember?"
He scoffed, crossing his legs. "You'rehurting," he chided, "not dead. And I haven't seen you so excited about something in months. Not since the litter of Nuggalopes were born, noisy things."
"You adore them and you know it."
"I will never admit to loving something so ugly."
Biting her lower lip, she rolled onto her back. "Heisvery handsome, I'll give you that."
"Ah, so youhavenoticed." He smirked triumphantly. "Good, I'd have had your eyes checked otherwise."
Eve snickered.
"Ma serannas,you ass."
Cullen had chosen their target either very well or very poorly.
A request for aid had come in from one of the settlements near the ruins of Haven at the base of the mountains. The two camps, some hours apart, were constantly at odds over leadership and the decision to merge them had only worsened the power struggles. The southern camp had sent a plea for help, claiming that ever since the decision was handed down, raids on their camp had increased – and that the northern camp was to blame.
A team of scouts had been sent to investigate. Thank the Creators for Harding, Eve swore as she marched through the pine needles, otherwise they would've had a very different idea as to what they were walking into.
"Bears," she said aloud to no one in particular as they trekked the camp perimeter. "Bearattacks."
"Should've brought the Seeker," Varric suggested. An errant branch swatted him in the face, and he grunted. "This is probably her idea of fun."
"I did." Eve thumbed behind them. "She's investigating the other end."
"Is that wise?" Abelas stepped over roots, experienced footsteps silent on the bed of dried leaves. "These creatures should not be underestimated."
"And neither should Cass," Bull said with a grin. "You send her up against the biggest, maddest one you can find - she'll bring you back a rug."
"Alone?"
"Yes,"came the chorus, and Abelas chuckled under his breath.
"I look forward to meeting this Seeker," he said as he paused to inspect a tree trunk.
"Yeah," Varric muttered. "She's a real barrel of laughs."
Eve was about to step over a creek when the former temple guardian called for her attention. She doubled back, following his gaze to the tree. "What?"
His fingers traced a series of splintered gouges, and Bull hummed appreciatively.
"We're getting close."
Frowning, she leaned in. "What are these, claw marks?"
"Territory marking," Bull explained, and Abelas agreed.
"Did you not see them?" he asked, turning to follow.
She raised her arms, offering up her hands in mock surrender. "That's why I have people like you and Bull," she said. "You're the experts - I'm no hunter. I reach out with magic to find things."
At his expression, she got the feeling that she was in for a stern lecture, but her salvation came in the form of a heavy, dullcrunchthat sounded uncomfortably close.
"ThatI understand," she said, reaching for her staff. "Abelas, your call."
"Surround it in silence until my signal," he instructed, voice low. "Stay downwind. Keep distant. When striking, do not engage at close range for longer than a single blow."
"You heard him." Green tendrils of light began to creep across the skin of her hands. "Let's make this quick and clean."
And it was quick – though bears were anything other than easy marks. They'd encountered a male, large and combative and very much unwilling to be relocated. As promised, Eve kept back and crippled the bear with a constant drain, leaving the brunt of the work to the others.
In keeping with the aim of their errand, she kept her eye on Abelas. Bull and Varric she could predict and trust, but the reason they were there, the goal of the entire damn trip, was to evaluate the new recruit.
He did not disappoint.
Artful weaving through Varric's cover fire placed him at the creature's flank, a fistful of needles swept from the forest floor dry in his hand. The other wrapped itself in thick fur, and in one fluid motion, Abelas had hoisted himself up, heels digging into the juncture of the bear's hip. In an effort to throw his rider, the bear reared, and Eve watched as Abelas ground the pine straw into the bear's fur before pushing off and leaping back. Bull let out a yell and swung, and suddenly Abelas was as good as invisible as the bear instead advanced on the one challenging him.
He wouldn't even get the chance to swipe. From his crouched position, Abelas flung out a hand and sent a flame – small, dart-shaped – right at the rising animal. Instantly, the sap-coated needles sticking to the bear's fur caught light, igniting a fire along his body anywhere Abelas had touched. The battle had suddenly become less about fighting the bear and more aboutcontainingit, a monstrous mess of burning fury. As the fire spread, the bear roared and shook, spinning and blindly charging.
Eve almost pitied the poor creature at this point – burning was painful, yet effective – but just as she was about to intervene, Abelas drew his bow and fired an arrow into each of the bear's front ankle joints, sending him crashing into the dirt. Weak and crippled, he was completely prone, and the sentinel executed the kill in one quick, clean shot between the eyes.
He was the first to approach, extending a hand to slowly extinguish the flame and taking to one knee.
"Ghilana mir na din'an," he said as he let his palm come to rest on the bear's massive head.
Something in that gesture tugged at Eve's chest, but it was replaced with laughter as Bull swung an enormous arm around Abelas' neck.
"Not bad, not bad at all!" he declared with a booming laugh. He clapped the elf on one gold-clad shoulder, almost sending him flying facefirst into the charred carcass. "You're creative. I like that. And fast, for an old-timer."
"Old-timer– !" From her position, Eve couldn't see the expression beneath his hood, but she couldn't imagine it was a pleased one.
"Man's got a point," Varric added thoughtfully, snapping Bianca back into place and scratching his stubbled jaw. "I mean, when you stop counting your age in years and evencenturies,well. That's something."
"Understandthis,child of the stone," Abelas began, rounding on him, but stopped dead at the sight of Varric's broad smirk. "You are baiting me," he said flatly, straightening his posture. "I was nearly taken in."
Chuckling, Varric walked past him. "Worth a shot."
As the two archers surveyed the damage, Eve remained quietly at the sidelines, musing on the developing dynamic. Abelas was hesitant, it seemed, but receptive to the attentions of her other companions. It was promising, and she watched with a smile at the notion that this transition wouldn't be nearly as difficult as she had thought.
Something Varric said under his breath earned him a smirk from the hooded elf, and warmth flooded Eve's gut.
No, not difficult at all.
"Hey, Boss," Bull called from beside her, axe over one shoulder. "Earlier. What was that thing he said?"
Eve leaned on her staff. " 'I guide you into death.' It's something our hunters still say when they kill an animal for food or hides. In a way, to thank them for their sacrifice."
He grunted in acknowledgment, keeping his good eye on her. "Close to home?"
She sighed and rolled her forehead against her weapon. "A little."
He watched her for a moment longer before shifting to rehook his axe. "He's sharp, quick. I say keep him."
"Professional opinion?"
"Yeah."
"Inquisitor!"
Cassandra's voice cut clear through the dense growth, and Eve and Bull joined the others. "Here," the mage called. "This one's down."
As she crossed over, weaving through the trees, Cassandra took quick stock of the group. "Any injuries?"
"None. Mostly let Abelas take point."
The seeker lifted her chin, a noise of approval in her throat at the sight of the carcass. "Well done." She turned back to the Inquisitor, indicating the direction of the camp. "I found a trail of food left hanging from trees leading directly to the settlement," she reported. "Deliberate. It seems that their suspicions were correct."
"Then it's completely uncivilized and I won't stand for it," Eve issued. "Go to the northern camp and bring their chief in, as well as anyone else you deem potentially responsible. Take a company, if need be."
Cassandra nodded. "Understood. I'll tell Scout Harding to send her men for the bear pelts."
"Wait," Bull interrupted. "Pelts, as in more than one?"
"Yes. I killed the three on the eastern edge." She smirked. "And you?"
He grumbled something unintelligible, and Abelas chuckled.
"Varric was correct," he informed Eve discreetly. "I like this one."
The first evening back at Skyhold, Eve found herself walking through the snow outside of the western walls, a piece of folded parchment in the pouch at her hip.
It was Elvish script, old – and gave a time and location, as well as the instruction to leave her staff behind. Whatever Abelas was planning, he clearly didn't intend on sharing until she was freezing in the middle of nowhere.
Said nowhere ended up being a large boulder about fifty paces in from the tree line, the clearing frosted with pristine, undisturbed snow. Assuming that she was the first to arrive, Eve sat on one of the craggy, flat sections of rock and watched her breath hang in the air.
"Inquisitor."
Startled, she spun – landing on her backside in the snow, palms crackling with energy and raised at the source of the voice. Abelas stared down at her from atop the boulder, also unarmed.
Swearing under her breath, Eve stood and dusted herself off. "Creators, Abelas! Could you not have given me warning?"
"No." He joined her, indicating the thick ring of conifers surrounding them. "I need to evaluate your hunting abilities. Every aspect."
"My hunting abilities?" She frowned. "What for?"
He crossed his arms. "You have things you need to hunt, do you not? You asked for my help; I agreed to give it." Turning, he pointed due east. "I will enter the forest there. After thirty seconds, you may pursue me."
He covered the distance in long strides, Eve staring blankly and trying to processwhat in Mythal's namehad just happened. Before she could get farther than the word 'pretentious,' however, he had disappeared, and she involuntarily started counting.
One,she breathed,two.
At thirty, she followed him in.
By somewhere around what would have beenthree thousand, Eve was encrusted in frost up to her knees and passing the same damn cave for the third time. She was so engrossed in her frustrated mutterings that she didn't hear the softcrunchof approaching footsteps behind her.
"Are all Dalish so freely vulgar?"
She turned, glaring. "Only when dumped into the woods, mind."
He ignored her, instead frowning in displeasure. "Your skills are greatly lacking," he observed. "How do your kind survive in the wilds?"
"I'mnot a hunter," she repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. "When I came into my magic, I was taught to focus onthoseabilities so that I didn't sneeze and blow the aravels apart or hurt someone. The hunters -theywere taught to use weapons, to track, and they keep us well-fed and safe." She crossed her arms, the skin at the tops of her boots beginning to sting. "My clan was never wanting, so I never needed to hunt."
Apparently satisfied with her answer, Abelas turned and indicated for her to follow. "We will begin at the most basic skills," he said, "and train as often as possible."
"Yes," she agreed, trudging along to catch up. "Basic,thatI can do." As she fell into step beside him, she flexed her wrists. "So where do we start?"
He looked down, and so did she. His boots, frosted but otherwise immaculate, shone in contrast to her snow-caked, almost unrecognizable lower legs.
"First," he said slowly, "you learn how to walk on snow."
The roaring fire in the corner of the tavern was a thing of beauty after spending several nights making an ass out of herself in the snowy woods.
Eve sighed, stretching her sore legs out under the table. Bull's invitation out for drinks couldn't have come at a better or more welcome time. Even more so, as it was extended to Abelas, who had taken some coaxing.
He'd be fighting alongside these people, she told him. Establishing some kind of connection was important. He'd grudgingly agreed, and the boisterous greeting that awaited them at the table bolstered Eve's confidence in the decision to drag him out at all costs.
The only potential problem had been Sera – after sizing him up, the blonde elf had simply lifted her chin and snorted.
"So what, then," she scowled, "here to tell me how to live my life, too? Like all the ways I'm not elfy enough for you lot."
"No," Abelas replied. "I judge merit on skill."
"Really? No lecture, no sh*te about the 'ancient ways'?" Grinning, she leaned back and uncrossed her arms. "BecauseMaker,you've got to be the elfiest elf that ever friggingelfed."
He frowned. "I have no idea what that even means."
"Good. You're already loads ahead of the last one." She kicked over a stool, and he accepted. "Welcome to the Arsequisition," she snickered, grinding her fist into his shoulder.
Now they were settled and Bull, possessor of the largest hands of the group, was fetching another round.
"So," Dorian prompted, leaning eagerly in on his elbows. "Abelas. What's your story?"
Hesitating, Abelas considered the question. "My story?"
"Yes. Besides the temple and your breathtaking– " Eve glared a warning, "armor,all I know of you is that you're a fellow mage. And we all have that story, how we came into our magic. So let's start there, shall we?"
"Don't give two sh*ts about your magic," Sera muttered, and Dorian shushed her.
"No one askedyou," he informed her politely. "And I'm curious."
"Thenyoucan start," Eve said, hooking her fingers around the stem of his wineglass and picking it up. "And it had better be a good one, or else you're not getting this back."
"Ofcourseit's a good one," he said, and he cleared his throat to begin. "Minrathous, my golden childhood. I was a young, innocent thing running about the Pavus family city estates."
The use of the word 'innocent' garnered a few raised eyebrows and snickers, but he continued uninterrupted.
"One lovely morning, I was playing with some magister or another's son while our fathers talked politics. The boy was a spoiled brute, ripping pages out of my books and constantly holding things out of my reach and laughing at my suffering. Taking the painted skyball that my mother had brought me specially from Rivain was the last straw, apparently."
Eve sipped at his wine. "Can't imagine that went well."
"Indeed, it did not." He illustrated with his hands. "In my fury, I summoned a horrid miasma circle in my father's rug, fear demons clawing at the boy's feet until he screamed like a banshee and soiled himself."
Abelas folded his hands on the table. "The negotiations failed, then."
"Quite the contrary! This wasTevinter." He chuckled. "My father was positivelythrilledand naturally insisted upon throwing a lavish party to celebrate. The sudden boost in his reputation at my prowess meant that he could essentially name his terms in the deal." With a flourish, he plucked his stolen drink back from the Inquisitor's grasp. "And there it is, my story. Next."
"I'm actually curious, too," Eve said, turning to the hooded elf with interest. "When did you know that you had magic?"
"There was no matter of 'if' among the Elvhen," he explained. "We all carried the gift. The question lay in learning to control it."
"Really?" Eve prodded. "No funny stories? Embarrassing training accidents?"
"Comeon,"Sera added, "must've set someone on fire at least once." At his telling silence and shift in posture, a wide grin spread across her face. "You did," she insisted, leaning across the table. "Youso friggingdid."
"Several," he admitted reluctantly. "I recall being told that I was an ill-tempered child."
The table's other occupants burst into laughter, Sera perhaps loudest of all.
"That just seems so out of character," Eve hiccuped. "But oddly easy to picture."
"Perhaps because you are constantlyscowling," Dorian suggested, reaching over the table to make a move at Abelas' face. "Here, let me show you how smiling works."
Abelas leaned back, just out of range. "I need no help, thank you."
"You wouldn't say that if you had to see your sour puss every day. Just let me – "
"No."
Sera watched them struggle, taking a long swig from her tankard. "Wouldn't want magic for piss all," she said, "but I'd like the lighting pricks on fire bit."
"It's fun when you'reolder," Eve conceded, "but as a child, it can be terrifying. Especially if you had no idea it was coming. Like theworstpossible name day surprise."
Dorian paused in his attentions to the tattooed elf, one knee now on the table in an effort to extend his reach. "Come to think of it," he said thoughtfully, "I've never heardyourstory, mighty Inquisitor."
She tapped her fingers on the wooden surface, chin in one hand. "Are you sure? It's not nearly as satisfying as yours."
"I am also interested," Abelas agreed, gently shoving Dorian's hand away. "Your abilities are... unprecedented."
She snorted, digging into one of the table's gouges with a polished nail. "Unfortunately for most Dalish, the trigger was pretty common. Still is." She set her jaw as she nudged the splinters she'd freed, considering how to best relay something she would much rather leave forgotten. And in front of Abelas, no less.
"My clan was in the southern marches for the winter," she began. "It was a difficult year, and we weren't the only ones in the area. But I loved the wilds, and so a few of us disobeyed the Keeper and went out alone. We encountered a group of poachers. Shems."
As she spoke, she remembered the look on Solas' face when he'd asked about it. She had long since decided to face this part of her past with honesty, with dignity intact – but this was the point in the story when pain had crept into his expression. He had clearly known what was coming.
"They'd strung up a halla, and one of the boys with me had just gotten hisvallaslin– Ghilan'nain,motherof the halla. He threw a rock. They grabbed their weapons, and we scattered, but the hunters came right for me as I ran into the woods."
"Just you?" Dorian sat back, puzzled. "Surely the boy whothrewthe rock– "
"I was the only girl," she said dryly. "And little elf girls have one good use." She turned her attention back to the excavation of the wood knot in front of her. "Anyway, there was an elven temple nearby. I ran in as far as I could, until my legs gave out in front of a statue. I remember praying. Beggingma halani, asking the gods to intervene, and then... nothing. Black." Sighing, she straightened and dusted off her handiwork. "When I woke up, my hands were glowing and the poachers were just corpses, broken and twisted like they'd been caught in a storm. Made my way back and told the Keeper, and our hunters went to go dispose of the bodies, sack their camp. And that's when I started my training."
"Pricks got what was coming to 'em," Sera muttered as she emptied her ale. Another was plonked down in front of her, Bull having returned with his mission accomplished.
"Sorry for the wait, Boss," he said as he sat at the end of the table, reaching over to gently ruffle her short hair with thick, scarred fingers. The tension left her shoulders at the gesture, and a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. He was always good for that – it didn't take his Ben-hassrath training to recognize the little things she often needed.
"The statue," Abelas asked. "Whose was it?"
The question took her by surprise, and her looked up at him as she passed the drinks around. "It was a great wolf - Fen'harel. Why?"
"I thought he was meant to beevil,"Dorian mused aloud as he refilled his wine with the bottle Bull had procured. "Some sort of elven Big Bad Wolf, so to speak."
"Ah, he's not necessarily evil," Eve clarified. "Not really. He just... never helps people, not directly. Not without a reason. Or, more often, a price."
Abelas was watching her thoughtfully, gold eyes keen with interest as he studied her face. "You show less fear of him than others of your kind," he observed, to which Eve made a noncommittal noise.
"You've proven that some of our stories aren't all they appear to be," she said. "And he did seem to save my life." She drank deeply and coughed, smirking despite herself. "Though sometimes, I wonder if I'm just waiting for him to appear and name his price."
"But until then..." Bull reached into his pocket and produced a deck of cards, eliciting groans from the two sitting farthest from him.
"I'm not drunk enough for this," Dorian insisted, and Sera rolled up her sleeves. Eve laughed, leaning back and preemptively cracking her knuckles.
"You're sharp, Abelas," she teased, elven ears raised and ready, betraying her excitement. "Try to keep up."
By the end of the night, he'd won Sera's pants.
He declined.
Some days later, Abelas leaned against the stone wall by the entrance to the undercroft, watching the proceedings from a distance.
Josephine – the chief diplomat of whom Eve spoke highly – stood on the raised steps of the platform, writing board in hand. She listed names as the Inquisitor reclined on the room's central throne, a thing of stone and metal, flanked by a pair of dragons rampant.
Shackled directly in front of them both were a trio of men: the headman who had been baiting bears to the village he'd perceived as a rival, and his two sons. They'd been in the dungeons for near a week, waiting for the results of the investigation that Josephine was now reading aloud. Now they seemed more than a little worse for wear, he noted; Cassandra did not seem the type to bring in criminals with a gentle touch.
"...with the intent of causing harm to the southern camp," she announced in her thick, rolling accent. "Inquisitor, your thoughts?"
He watched as Eve leaned forward, interlacing her fingers. "Headman," she called. "Aside from your own aspirations, do you have any reason to doubt the southern leaders?"
Abelas crossed one ankle over the other, observing in silence. She was asking if his sabotage had any purpose other than his grasping attempts at meager power. Men were petty, selfish, consumed with greed; what did she hope to learn?
At the headman's silence, she pressed harder. "I ask youagain,"she insisted, tone sharp. "Do you take issue with the leadership of the southern settlement?"
"Headman Jann isweak,"he spat in response. "Weak and too damn soft!"
"Explain."
He began to loudly call the man a number of unflattering things, all variants on spineless and lax, until the Inquisitor silenced him.
"If you intend to assault hischaracter," she interrupted, "I must remind you that you have no ground to stand on. I want examples. Dates, events. Can you give me that, or are you wasting my time?"
Abelas found himself greatly pleased by her pragmatism. Her poise, as well, lent her a strong presence in a room crowded with onlookers. Her voice alone had shamed the headman into silence, and the manner with which she fixed her stare on him would have been enough to make any man shrink from challenging her authority.
He could see why Solas had been so powerfully enamored of her.
Silence hung in the hall for several long moments before one of the sons gathered the courage to speak, and when he did, it was with respect.
"Last winter, Jann's camp nearly had a food shortage. They barely made it through."
"Anything else?"
"No, Your Grace."
She leaned back, studying him thoughtfully. "It will be looked into. As for the three of you..." She looked to Josephine, who stood at attention with ink ready. "Labor. You will be sent to the Inquisition's farm holdings, to replace the food you wasted with your scheme and to feed the families of those the bears killed."
"It will be done, Inquisitor," she said as she scribbled. "And that is all for today."
"Dismissed, then."
As the crowd murmured and dispersed, the elven sentinel remained to consider what he had just witnessed. There was much to admire in the Inquisitor – insight, integrity, the power she wielded. The respect she commanded.
She was not a woman who did things by halves, he had learned. Even in the woods, their training sessions in the harsh cold at the end of the day when she was already near exhaustion, she was committed and present. Whether it was because of her character or because she wanted to find those she hunted so desperately, he couldn't say, but it was hard to look at her effort and disparage it.
She grew more and more interesting by the day, he mused, and quietly slipped away.
