45. Talking with the Three Advisors

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Then, with a last knowing look, she turned and walked away, her robes whispering against the stone. Daniel watched her go, the words settling somewhere deep in his chest. Hope is a fragile thing. He wondered if it would be enough.

The crisp mountain air bit at Daniel's face as he stepped outside the Chantry, the weight of Mother Giselle's words still lingering in his mind. Haven stretched before him—a fragile bastion of order amidst the chaos. Smoke curled from chimneys, soldiers patrolled the walls, and the ever-present glow of the Breach pulsed ominously above. The village should have felt alive, but instead it carried the quiet tension of a people holding their breath.

He found Cullen beyond the gates, where the training grounds had been carved into the frozen earth. The commander stood like a pillar amidst the chaos of drills, his voice cutting through the clatter of wooden swords and shields.

"You there!" Cullen barked at a recruit who'd just taken a practice blow to the ribs. "There's a shield in your hand. Block with it. If this man were your enemy, you'd be dead."

The recruit—a boy no older than eighteen with the sunburnt cheeks of a farmer—nodded shakily.

Cullen turned to his lieutenant, a grizzled veteran with a scar running from eyebrow to jaw. "Don't hold back. The recruits must prepare for a real fight, not a practice one."

"Yes, Commander." The lieutenant saluted and moved to correct the next struggling trainee.

It was only then that Cullen noticed Daniel's approach. The commander's stern expression softened slightly. "We've received a number of recruits—locals from Haven and some pilgrims." A dry chuckle. "None made quite the entrance you did."

Daniel rubbed his marked hand absently. " I just hope I can help."

"As do we all." Cullen's gaze flickered to the Breach before returning to Daniel. *"It is enough that you would try."*

They fell into step together, walking the perimeter of the training grounds in what might have passed for a leisurely stroll if not for the grim context. The snow crunched underfoot, and the sounds of sparring faded slightly as they moved away.

"I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall, myself," Cullen said suddenly. "I was there during the mage uprising—I saw firsthand the devastation it caused." His hand flexed at his side, as if remembering the weight of a sword.

Before Daniel could respond, a soldier jogged up behind them. "Ser!" The man handed Cullen a report before saluting and retreating.

Cullen scanned the parchment quickly, his brow furrowing. Without missing a beat, he continued, "Cassandra sought a solution. When she offered me a position, I left the templars to join her cause." A bitter smile. "Now it seems we face something far worse."

Daniel flexed his marked hand, the green glow pulsing faintly. "I must have this mark for a reason. It will work. I'm sure of it."

"Provided we can secure aid," Cullen agreed, folding the report and tucking it into his belt. "But I'm confident we can." His voice took on a harder edge as they passed a group of recruits struggling with pike drills. "The Chantry lost control of both templars and mages. Now they argue over a new Divine while the Breach remains." He gestured to the organized chaos around them. "The Inquisition could act when the Chantry cannot. Our followers would be part of that. There's so much we can—" He cut himself off abruptly. "Forgive me. I doubt you came here for a lecture."

"You understand our situation," Daniel said honestly. "I appreciate your opinion."

Cullen nodded, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Look around. Our people are well-organized and committed." He gestured to where a group of veteran soldiers were demonstrating proper sword forms to wide-eyed recruits. "Despite what the clerics may think, we're in the best position to help."

"There's still a lot of work ahead," Daniel observed.

"That there is—"

Another soldier approached at a run. "Commander! Ser Rylen has a report on our supply lines."

Cullen sighed, shooting Daniel an apologetic look. "As I was saying." He turned to leave, but Daniel called after him.

"Wait—how many soldiers do we actually have?"

Cullen paused, calculating. "Counting the 250 I sent with you to the Hinterlands?" At Daniel's nod, he continued, "Here at Haven, we've got 250 recruits in training, and about 50 veteran templars who've joined our cause." His mouth quirked. "Not enough to fight a war, but enough to start making a difference."

With that, he strode off toward the waiting soldier, already barking orders before he'd fully turned away.

Daniel watched him go, the numbers settling in his mind like stones. Five hundred and fifty soldiers against the end of the world.

Then Daniel decide to visit Josephine, as he want to get to knew her role as the Ambassador of the Inquisition. Then he went inside Haven, as he pass the village and saw the people who still in shock but manage to continue their daily life. Daniel approaching the Chantry and went inside, as he hear the Chantry's heavy doors closed behind Daniel with a soft thud. The air inside was warmer, thick with the scent of beeswax candles and aged parchment. He made his way toward Josephine's office, the rhythmic tap of his boots echoing through the quiet hallway.

Just as he reached for the door handle, raised voices spilled through the wood—Josephine's measured tones clashing with a man's imperious baritone. Daniel hesitated, then pushed the door open.

The scene before him was one of diplomatic tension stretched thin. Josephine stood behind her desk, posture perfect but fingers tight around her quill. Opposite her, a nobleman in rich Orlesian silks waved a gloved hand dismissively.

"The Inquisition cannot remain, Ambassador,"* the man—presumably Marquis DuRellion—declared, "if you can't prove it was founded on Justinia's orders."

Josephine's smile didn't reach her eyes. "This is an inopportune time, Marquis. More of the faithful flock here each day."

Then she noticed Daniel in the doorway. Her shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. "But allow me to introduce you to the brave soul who risked his life to slow the magic of the Breach." With graceful precision, she pivoted the conversation. "Ser Lavellan, this is the Marquis DuRellion, one of Divine Justinia's greatest supporters."

DuRellion turned, his sharp features twisting in appraisal. The firelight caught on the silver threads of his doublet as he looked Daniel up and down. "And the rightful owner of Haven," he said pointedly. "House DuRellion lent Justinia these lands for a pilgrimage. This...'Inquisition' is not a beneficiary of this arrangement."

Daniel crossed his arms. "This is the first I've heard of Haven having an owner outside the Chantry."

The marquis's lip curled. "My wife, Lady Machen of Denerim, has claim to Haven by ancient treaty with the monarchs of Ferelden." For a moment, genuine grief flickered across his haughty expression. "We were honored to lend its use to Divine Justinia. She is...she was a woman of supreme merit. I will not let an upstart order remain on her holy grounds."

"People have been injured," Daniel countered. "You can't just turn them out onto the snow."

"And who benefits if they stay?" DuRellion shot back.

Josephine smoothly interjected, "Divine Justinia, Marquis. The Inquisition—not the Chantry—is sheltering the pilgrims who mourn her."

The marquis scoffed. "Why is the Chantry ignoring the faithful?"

"Because it remains in shock," Josephine said gently.

A long silence followed. The marquis sighed, some of the fight leaving his posture. Josephine seized the moment, her voice softening further. "We face a dark time, Your Grace. Divine Justinia would not want her passing to divide us. She would, in fact, trust us to forge new alliances to the benefit of all, no matter how strange they might seem."

DuRellion studied them both, then gave a curt nod. "I'll think on it, Lady Montilyet. The Inquisition might stay in the meanwhile." With that, he swept out, his velvet cloak whispering against the floor.

The door clicked shut behind him.

"Do the DuRellions actually have a claim on this place?" Daniel asked.

Josephine's professional mask slipped, revealing a tired smirk. "His Grace's position is not so strong as he presents it. Despite their Ferelden relations, the DuRellions are Orlesian." She moved to rearrange papers on her desk. "If the marquis wishes to claim Haven, Empress Celene must negotiate with Ferelden on his behalf. Her current concerns are a bit larger than minor property disputes."

Daniel rubbed his neck. "I apologize for the intrusion. I didn't realize you were meeting with the marquis."

"You did little harm," Josephine assured him, sinking into her chair. *"In truth, the debate was most beneficial as practice for those to come."

"You expect more people in Haven?"

"Undoubtedly." She selected a fresh quill from her inkwell. "And each visitor will spread the story of the Inquisition after they depart. An ambassador should ensure the tale is as complimentary as possible."

Daniel leaned against the edge of her desk, studying the intricate murals of Antiva City painted on the walls. "May I ask what brought you to work for the Inquisition?"

"Sister Leliana approached me," Josephine said, a fond note creeping into her voice. "We've been acquainted for quite some time." She gestured to the mountain of correspondence before her. "For better or worse, being the Inquisition's diplomat has become as interesting as she promised."

"What sort of dealings have you had with nobility?"

Josephine's smile turned wry. "For some years, I was the royally appointed court ambassador from Antiva to Orlais." She tapped her quill against a sealed letter bearing the Imperial crest. "The nobility of Thedas is a rather singular sphere. Those I'm not acquainted with, I know through reputation."

"The Inquisition is lucky to have you as an advocate, Lady Montilyet," Daniel said sincerely.

"Thank you." Her expression sobered. "Let us hope so. Thedas's politics have become...agitated as of late. I hope to guide us down smoother paths."

She turned back to her work then, the dismissal polite but firm. "But please excuse me. I've much work to do before the day is done."

Daniel pushed off the desk with a nod. As he reached the door, Josephine's voice stopped him.

"Herald?"

He turned.

"Do try to avoid falling out of any more rifts before Val Royeaux," she said dryly. "It would make my job significantly easier."

Daniel couldn't help but laugh. "No promises."

Then Daniel decide to get out from the Chantry and see Leliana. As Danie get out from the Chantry, the Chantry doors groaned shut behind Daniel, sealing away the warmth and scent of candle wax. The sudden bite of mountain air made him shiver as he stepped into Haven's courtyard. The village bustled around him—soldiers drilling, refugees huddling near cookfires, children darting between tents with stolen bread—but his attention was drawn to the lone figure standing before a simple canvas tent.

Leliana.

She stood with her back to him, head bowed, her gloved hands clenched at her sides. Even from a distance, the tension in her frame was palpable. As Daniel approached, her voice carried on the wind—low, raw, and trembling with something between prayer and accusation.

"Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.'" A bitter pause. "In their blood the Maker's will is written. Is that what you want from us? Blood? To die so that your will is done? Is death your only blessing?"

Daniel froze, uncertain whether to interrupt.

Then Leliana turned, her piercing blue eyes locking onto him. Shadows clung to her face, deeper than mere exhaustion. "You speak for Andraste, no? What does the Maker's prophet have to say about all of this? What's His game?"

The question hit like a physical blow. Daniel hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "How is this a game?"

Leliana's laugh was sharp enough to draw blood. She gestured wildly at the Breach, at the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes visible in the distance. "Do you see the sky? What about the temple ruins? The bones lying in the dust?" Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "Even if you didn't support the Divine's peace, you wouldn't call this right. Who could? So many innocent lives—the faithful murdered where the holiest of holies once stood." She clenched her fists. "If the Maker willed this, what is it if not a game or a cruel joke?"

Daniel exhaled slowly. "I speak for no one but myself, and I have no answers for you."

Leliana studied him, then shook her head. "You probably don't even worship the Maker because you were Dalish. Lucky. He asks a lot." She turned away, her voice hollow. "The Chantry teaches that the Maker abandoned us. He demands repentance for our sins. He demands it all. Our lives. Our deaths. Justinia gave Him everything she had, and He let her die!"

The raw grief in her words made Daniel's chest ache. "I'm sorry. Her death has clearly hit you hard."

"Not just me." Leliana's voice cracked. "All of us. She was the Divine. She led the faithful. She was their heart!" A tremor ran through her. "If the Maker doesn't intervene to save the best of His servants, what good is He?" She laughed again, the sound jagged. "I used to believe I was chosen, just as some say you are. I thought I was fulfilling His purpose for me, working with the Divine, helping people. But now she's dead. It was all for nothing. Serving the Maker meant nothing."

Daniel stepped closer, keeping his voice gentle. "Maybe you have another purpose. I could help you find it."

Leliana stiffened. For a moment, she didn't respond. Then, slowly, she shook her head. "No. This is my burden." When she turned back to him, the vulnerability was gone, replaced by the cool mask of the Left Hand. "I regret that I even let you see me like this." She straightened her shoulders. "It was a moment of weakness. It won't happen again."

Before Daniel could protest, she gestured toward the tent. "Come. To work then. We will speak later."

The dismissal was clear.

Daniel hesitated, wanting to say more—to offer something, anything—but the steel in Leliana's gaze warned him against pushing further. With a quiet nod, he turned away, leaving her standing alone beneath the fractured sky.

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Name : Daniel Carter

Race: Elf

Level 5 : 2183/2500 EXP

Professions: Mage

Gold Coins: 2289 coins

Weapon: Staff of the Dragon

Armor: Light Armor of the Dragon and Templar Scribe Scowl

Accessories: Token of the Packmaster and Belt of Health

Inventory: Acolyte Ice Staff, Morning Star, Stiletto, Hunting Longbow, Fire Resistance Cowl, Mercenary Coat, Acolyte Fire Staff, Disciple Lighting Staff, Apprentice Armor, Qunari Battleaxe, Raider Hatchet, 2 Disciple Fire Staff, Apprentice Mail, Qunari Buckler, Medium Adventure Armor, Mindleech Staff, Soldier's Nemesis, 2 Recruit's Dirk, Reinforced Dagger, Sledgehammer, Disciple Lighting Staff, Apprentice Armor, Exacting Longbow, Barbarian Lord Maul, Lifeward Amulet, and Grenade Belt

Crafting Materials: 37 Elfroot, 62 Iron, 2 Blue Vitriol, 1 Dawn Lotus, 11 Silk, 17 Lambswool, 3 Royal Elfroot, 10 Ram Leather, 23 Drakestone, 4 Fire Essence, 3 Blue Vitriol, 11 Canine Leather, 4 Plaidewaive, 2 Frost Essence, 1 Fade-Touched Iron, 4 Blood Lotus, 5 Embrium, 10 Spindleweed, 16 Onyx, 3 Ironbarks, 2 Crystal Grace, and 1 Serpenstone

Upgrades: Sigil of the Gamordan Stromrider and Sigil of Deathroot

Valuables: 2 Shadow Essence, 1 Ram Horn, 1 Dreamer Rag, 5 Weapon Fragment, 2 Bowstring, 8 Mysterious Shards, Nevarra Skull, 1 Wisp Essence, and 1 Wolf Fangs

Potions: Lesser Health Potions x8, Lesser Regeneration Potions x5, and x5 Lyrium Potion

Skills: Chain Lighting, Flashfire, Barrier, Winter's Grasp, and Energy Barrage

Armor Schematics: Shokra-taar Schematic, Antaam-saar Schematic, Avvar Armor Schematics Acquired, Stone-Bear Armor Schematics, Vanguard Coat Schematic, Sturdy Defender Coat Schematic, and Scout Mail Arms Schematic

Weapon Schematics: Curved Dagger Schematic and Hunting Bow Schematic

Potion Recipe: Lesser Regeneration Potion recipe and Lyrium Potion Recipe

Bottles of Thedas: Vint-9 Rowan's Rose and Carnal, 8:69 Blessed