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The next morning brought frost and pale sunlight. The Inquisition forces readied to move out, their destination still the Hinterlands' many scattered fires—templars, mages, rifts, refugees. The work never ended.
Daniel rubbed the back of his neck, the morning chill biting at his skin as he scanned the camp. Soldiers moved with purpose, packing supplies and checking gear, their breath fogging in the crisp air. Something nagged at him—a loose thread he needed to tie up before they marched out.
He found Cassandra near the makeshift armory, her sharp eyes tracking the preparations. "Cassandra," he called, stepping up beside her. "The soldiers we sent back to the Crossroads two days ago—the ones delivering the ram meat and Hyndel's potion to his father. Have they rejoined us yet?"
Cassandra didn't hesitate. She turned and barked, "Lieutenant!"
A grizzled man with a scar running through his eyebrow snapped to attention and strode over. "Seeker?"
"The detachment we sent ahead with supplies. Are they back with the main force?"
The lieutenant nodded. "Aye, Seeker. They rejoined us last night, just before midnight. A bit worse for wear—ran into a pack of wolves on the return trip—but nothing they couldn't handle."
Relief settled in Daniel's chest. "No casualties?"
"None, ser. Just a few scratches and a lot of grumbling about Hinterland wolves having a death wish."
Cassandra dismissed the lieutenant with a nod, then crossed her arms, studying Daniel. "You were worried."
He shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time a routine supply run turned into a disaster out here."
Her expression softened, just slightly. "They made it. That's what matters."
A shout rang out from the edge of camp—Varric, waving them over. "Hey, lovebirds! Unless you're planning to redecorate the Crossroads with your lingering stares, we've got rifts to close!"
Cassandra's jaw tightened. "I swear, one of these days—"
Daniel chuckled, cutting her off. "Come on. You can threaten him after we save the world."
Then Daniel motioned to Varric, Solas, and the lieutenant, gathering them in a loose circle away from the bustling soldiers. The wind carried the scent of damp earth and pine needles as they huddled together, their breath visible in the cold morning air.
"Alright," Daniel began, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "We need to decide our next move. We can't just wander the Hinterlands hoping to stumble into solutions."
Cassandra straightened, her posture rigid with purpose. "Corporal Vale mentioned Horsemaster Dennet. If we can secure his support, the Inquisition will have mounts—better mobility for our scouts, faster supply lines. It's a practical first step."
Varric leaned on Bianca, his eyebrows raised. "Horses would definitely beat walking everywhere. I'm all for it."
Solas nodded thoughtfully. "Dennet's farm lies to the northwest. It would be a logical starting point."
Daniel glanced at the others. "That's one option. But we also have those letters we recovered—the rogue templars are dug in along the western road, and the rebel mages are holed up in Witchwood. We can't ignore those threats forever."
The lieutenant—a seasoned soldier with weathered skin and a permanent squint—cleared his throat. "If I may, ser." At Daniel's nod, he continued, "There's a spot in the hills northeast of here. High ground, good sightlines. We could establish an outpost there—somewhere to regroup, resupply. And from that vantage, we'd have eyes on the main battlefield between the templars and mages."
Daniel considered this, his fingers tapping absently against his staff. The idea had merit—a foothold in the region would give them stability, a place to operate from. But splitting their forces...
"That outpost could be valuable," he said slowly. "But I don't want us divided. Most of these soldiers are still green—they'll be safer if we move together."
Cassandra crossed her arms. "You're right. We stay united for now."
Varric smirked. "So, the plan is: convince a stubborn horsemaster to lend us his prized nugs—"
"Horses," Cassandra corrected dryly.
"—then set up camp in the hills while keeping an eye on two groups of very angry people who want to kill each other. And us."
Solas's lips quirked. "An accurate, if reductive, summary."
Daniel exhaled, his breath fogging in the air. "Then it's settled. We head to Dennet's farm first. After that, we scout the hill for the outpost. Once we're established, we'll assess the templar and mage situations."
The lieutenant saluted. "I'll inform the men, ser."
As the group dispersed, Daniel lingered for a moment, staring at the distant horizon where the Frostback Mountains loomed. The weight of leadership pressed on him—every decision carried consequences. But hesitation got people killed.
Cassandra paused beside him, following his gaze. "You're doing fine," she said quietly.
He snorted. "Tell that to the next group of refugees we find starving in the wilds."
"We'll help them too." There was no doubt in her voice, just steel.
Daniel's fingers brushed against the cold glass of the phylactery in his pouch as they made their way back through the Crossroads. The vial felt heavier than it should have—not just a container of blood, but a life cut short by this senseless war. He signaled to one of the soldiers standing guard near the chantry.
"You," Daniel called. "Do you know a mage named Ellendra?"
The soldier—a young man with a patchy beard—snapped to attention. "Yes, Herald. She's been helping with the wounded when she can. Let me bring you to her."
They followed the soldier through the maze of tents and lean-tos, past refugees huddled around cooking fires and children playing with sticks in the dirt. Near the edge of the camp, where the trees began to thicken, a lone figure sat on a fallen log, her back to the chaos. She wore simple robes, her dark hair streaked with silver, and when she turned at their approach, her eyes were sharp with intelligence—and grief.
"I have heard stories about you, Herald of Andraste," she said, rising gracefully. "I am Enchanter Ellendra. I hope you find a way to end this foolish war."
Daniel reached into his pouch and held out the phylactery. "I believe this was yours. I found it on a dead templar named Mattrin."
For a heartbeat, Ellendra didn't move. Then her fingers closed around the vial with a tenderness that made Daniel's chest tighten. "Ah," she whispered. "I suspected he died when he didn't join me or send word." Her grip tightened, knuckles whitening. "Maker curse the fools who started this war... and the fools now fighting it." She exhaled sharply, then reached into her own belt and pressed a small pouch into Daniel's hand. "Thank you. Mattrin was... important to me. Here, for your trouble."
The weight of the coins was negligible compared to the quiet sorrow in her voice. His interface flickered:
[44 EXP Gained]
But the numbers meant nothing next to the woman's grief. Daniel hesitated, then asked, "If you're a mage, why aren'tt you with the rebel mages?"
Ellendra's smile was thin, humorless. "I was an Enchanter in the College of Aequitarians. We wanted tolerance, not war. By rights, I'm sworn to join the rebels." Her thumb traced the edge of the phylactery. "But I had friends among the templars. I will not fight them. I know my own strength, and I have no fear of demons. I will keep to myself and harm none."
The wind rustled the leaves overhead, a brittle sound. Daniel hesitated, then asked softly, "If I may... I'd like to know about you and Mattrin."
For a moment, he thought she wouldn't answer. Then she laughed—a short, tired sound. "Ah. Templar and mage. Natural enemies, they always say. As though you can keep healthy men and women close to each other for years without anyone getting ideas." Her voice softened. "We were friends for many years. And lovers for a few more. And now he is gone because of this war."
Cassandra shifted beside him, her armor creaking, but she said nothing.
Daniel studied Ellendra's face—the lines around her eyes, the way she held herself like someone braced for a blow. "You haven't joined the rebels or the refugees. Are you on your own?"
"Yes," she said simply. "It's safer that way... for everyone. At first, I used my healing skills to help the refugees. But when the templars saw me, they attacked. Innocent people died in that battle." Her jaw tightened. "I will endanger no more."
Daniel glanced at Cassandra, then back to Ellendra. "The Inquisition could use the skills of a powerful mage."
Ellendra's eyes narrowed. "If I wished to kill others, I would have joined the rebels. How is the Inquisition any better?"
"You wouldn't have to fight," Daniel said quickly. "There are countless ways to help safely—wards to reinforce, glyphs to study. If you have healing skills, you could save many lives without ever raising a staff in anger."
For a long moment, Ellendra was silent. Then she sighed, her shoulders loosening. "True enough. If the Inquisition believes I can help, then I will do what I can. My skills are yours." She turned toward her meager camp. "Just give me a moment to gather my things."
Cassandra stepped forward. "You'll report to Leliana as one of her agents. She'll ensure your talents are used wisely."
Ellendra nodded, tucking the phylactery into her robes with the care of someone handling a holy relic. "Leliana. The Nightingale. I've heard... stories."
Varric, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke. "Most of them are true. The scary ones, anyway."
Ellendra almost smiled. "Good."
As she moved to collect her belongings, Daniel exhaled, watching the way the late afternoon light caught the edges of the camp—the frayed ropes of the tents, the scuffed boots of the refugees, the determined set of Ellendra's shoulders as she folded a threadbare cloak. Another piece found, another life pulled from the wreckage of this war.
His interface pulsed again, but he ignored it. Some things couldn't be measured in experience points.
Cassandra nudged him. "We should go. Dennet won't wait forever."
Daniel nodded, casting one last glance at Ellendra. "No. But she's worth the delay."
And with that, they turned back toward the road, the weight of the Hinterlands pressing on them—but a little lighter than before.
Then the lieutenant cleared his throat, stepping forward with the careful bearing of a soldier who'd spent years navigating treacherous terrain. "Herald," he said, pointing toward a narrow, overgrown trail branching off from the main path. "There's a small route here—leads up into the hills near Corporal Vale's camp. It's steep, but manageable. Once we're up there..." He paused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "The ridge gives us clear sightlines over the valley below. Perfect spot for an outpost. We'd see any movement from the rogue templars on the western road or mages in Witchwood long before they saw us."
Daniel studied the path—little more than a goat track winding through jagged rocks and stubborn shrubs. Not ideal for a full company, but doable. "Scouts checked it?"
The lieutenant nodded. "Aye. No signs of recent activity. Just some wolf tracks and an old fire pit near the top—probably hunters or refugees passing through."
Varric squinted up the slope. "You know, I'm all for dramatic vistas, but maybe we send the lightly armored folks first? In case gravity decides to argue with us."
Cassandra ignored him, already assessing the trail with a soldier's eye. "We'll take it slow. Single file. Lieutenant, have your men secure ropes at the tricky sections."
Daniel exhaled, rolling the tension from his shoulders. Another climb, another gamble. But the advantage of high ground was undeniable. "Alright. Let's get to that ridge before nightfall."
As they turned toward the path, Solas murmured, "A wise choice. From such heights, even the winds carry whispers of approaching storms."
The lieutenant grinned, patting the hilt of his sword. "Exactly what I was thinking, mage." And with that, they began their ascent—one careful step at a time.
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Name : Daniel Carter
Race: Elf
Level 4 : 295/1500 E
Professions: Mage
Gold Coins: 1359 Coins
Weapon: Staff of the Dragon
Armor: Light Armor of the Dragon and Templar Scribe Scowl
Accessories: Lifeward Amulet
Inventory: Acolyte Ice Staff, Morning Star, Stiletto, Hunting Longbow, Fire Resistance Cowl, Mercenary Coat, Acolyte Fire Staff, Disciple Lighting Staff, Sigil of the Gamordan Stromrider, Apprentice Armor, Qunari Battleaxe, Amulet of Magic, Raider Hatchet, Disciple Fire Staff, Amulet of Willpower, Apprentice Mail, Qunari Buckler, Medium Adventure Armor, and Mindleech Staff
Crafting Materials: 31 Elfroot, 50 Iron, 2 Blue Vitriol, 1 Dawn Lotus, 11 Silk, 6 Lambswool, 1 Royal Elfroot, 10 Ram Leather, 23 Drakestone, 3 Fire Essence, 3 Blue Vitriol, 3 Canine Leather, 4 Plaidewaive, 1 Frost Essence, and 1 Fade-Touched Iron
Valuables: 3 Aquamarine, Silver Bracelet, 2 Figurine of Maferath the Betrayer, 2 Shadow Essence,
Gurn Gallstone Charm, Braid of Rank, Glass Halla, 1 Weapon Fragment, 2 Silver Necklace, 1 Ram Horn, 1 Bride's Blood Vial, 1 Silk Handerchief, 1 Glass Fox, 1 Silver Earring, 1 Dreamer Rag, 1 Miniature Throne and 1 Weapon Fragment
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,
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