Dragon Age Inquisition: Faith

Introductions

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When Bartrand looked at Hawke, he saw a shabby Ferelden apostate. I saw a potential business partner. Sure, she didn’t have two coppers to rub together when we met, but she was focused and determined; she could get the coin. I knew Bartrand was underestimating her.

As it turned out, I was as well.

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Cecily rubbed her hands together, wishing she had gloves, and then scolded herself for being upset over cold fingers. She hadn’t even begun to process any of this—the mark on her hand, the tear in the sky, the monsters, or the lingering suspicion that a lot of people around her wanted her dead.

Well, she was used to people wanting mages dead on general principle. But now they wanted her dead, specifically. That was new and unwelcome.

So she tried to boil her day down to its simplest form. The rift releases demons. Demons are bad. Get to the big rift, fix the big rift, and no more demons. No demons will be good.

Maker, please let this work.

“You all right there?” the dwarf asked.

“Oh yes. Just thinking,” Cecily said, trying to keep her voice bright.

The dwarf—Varric—looked up at her curiously. Cecily wondered how he’d broken his nose. “So … if you don’t mind me asking, how exactly did you survive that explosion?”

“I have no idea,” Cecily sighed, feeling the ice ahead of her with one foot before trusting her weight to it. “I don’t remember. I was at the Conclave, and then the next thing I knew I was in a cell with this thing on my hand.” She flexed her left fingers. It still felt as if her palm were trying to split itself in half.

Varric shook his head. “That’s where they’ve got you. You should have just made up a story. Easier for them to understand, and less likely to result in premature execution.”

Behind them, Cassandra made a disgusted noise and started to say something, but Cecily wasn’t entirely listening. The comment about stories …

“Maker’s breath!” she gasped. “You’re that Varric Tethras!”

Varric gave her a strange look. “Um. Which Varric Tethras is that?”

“The Tale of the Champion! I didn’t put it together until just now, what with the demons and everything.” Cecily beamed. “I can’t believe it. I read your book—maybe dozens of times. Is that really what the Champion is like? That funny, and brave, and …”

Varric grinned, clearly enjoying her hero-worship. “Well, I did my best, and it turned out pretty well if I say so myself. Hawke’s hard to capture on paper, though. She is funny, and brave, and she makes dealing with the craziest shit look almost easy. But she’s also got flaws like anyone else. For one thing, she’s terrible at Wicked Grace.”

“What about her other friends? Do you know what happened to them?” Cecily knew she sounded about fourteen, and didn’t care.

“I keep in touch. Daisy—er, Merrill is still in the Kirkwall area. She’s helping elves who were made homeless during the fighting. Aveline’s still in Kirkwall too, with her husband Donnic. I think the city would fall into the sea if she quit the Guard. Isabela went back to the Raiders and is calling herself Admiral now, but it might be that she just has a really big hat. Hawke’s brother Carver was off on Warden business in the Anderfels last I heard. And Fenris has been putting his energy into fighting the Tevinter slavers who came south to prey on Kirkwall refugees.”

For some reason, Cassandra stiffened at the mention of the last name. “You did not mention you had been in contact with the elf. Are they still together, Fenris and the Champion?”

The dwarf side-eyed her warily. “They left Kirkwall together. But it’s hard to predict those two. Like I said, Seeker, I’m not sure where Hawke is now.”

“Would he know where she is, by any chance?” the Seeker asked, her tone cold.

“He might. If you want to find him, you can probably just follow the trail of corpses.” Varric smirked a bit. “But I really don’t recommend trying to bring him in for questioning. He takes being shackled badly, for some reason.”

“I thought you brought Varric in to ask him about Anders,” Cecily said, turning to Cassandra. “And to have him testify at the Conclave. You’re looking for the Champion? Why?”

She couldn’t keep all of her outrage from her voice. It was easy to guess what the Seekers of Truth wanted from Thedas’s most famous apostate—probably to see her clapped in irons and executed for her part in the mage rebellion.

Or made Tranquil. Cecily’s stomach churned.

“You admire the Champion, I take it?” Cassandra said, narrowing her eyes.

There was no point in denying it. Cecily gave a single nod. “She was an apostate in a city whose Templars have—er, had—a well-established reputation for overzealousness, even brutality. She took a tremendous personal risk when she confronted the Arishok, using her magic with all of Kirkwall’s elite watching.”

“Not to mention the part where she fought a giant Qunari warlord and won,” Varric added.

Cecily suppressed a smile; that had been her favorite part of the Tale. “I don’t agree with what Anders did,” she continued. “Many mages don’t. But the Knight-Commander had no justification for invoking the Rite of Annulment over the actions of a single apostate. As for Hawke, she could have fled the city, left us—left them to their fate. She stayed and fought and tried to help. So yes, I admire her.”

Cassandra tapped her fingers on her sword pommel. She seemed to be considering how to respond. Finally, she said, “I do as well.”

Cecily didn’t bother to hide her surprise. “You do? The Templars at Ostwick all insisted that Hawke was a traitor, that her goal all along was to cause the rebellion.”

Cassandra nodded. “I believed that once. But Varric convinced me that the official story is … inaccurate.”

“Well, I’m glad something came out of our little chats, Seeker,” Varric said wryly.

“Our Knight-Commander even banned your book, Varric. It was the first thing I bought after our Circle fell. Well, second, after the winter coat,” Cecily admitted.

The memory of those days after they’d escaped the Circle quickly erased her good mood. After the declaration at Andoral’s Reach, their Knight-Commander had invoked the Rite. Cecily had known Leonard was more distrustful of mages than his predecessor, but even so, she hadn’t expected such a swift and brutal reaction. Ostwick had been a quiet Circle and most of the mages there had never even thought about using their magic as a weapon.

And yet somehow, many of them had escaped with their lives—only to lose them at the Conclave.

Lydia. Kalli.

She was aware that everyone else was looking at her, and she felt her cheeks flush. “I suppose I lost my copy when the rift opened,” she said quietly, swallowing hard.

Varric’s expression was sympathetic; he seemed to sense that the book wasn’t the loss on her mind. “Tell you what. If we survive the big rift I’ll get you another one. My publisher will send as many copies as I ask for.”

Cecily smiled a bit. “Thank you, Varric. I would like that.”