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As she walked away, Daniel watched her go, the weight of their conversation lingering. For all her brusqueness, Cassandra Pentaghast was far more complex than she let on. And that, he thought as he turned toward the tavern, made her all the more fascinating.
The tavern was alive with noise and warmth as Daniel pushed through the heavy wooden door. The scent of roasted meat, spiced ale, and burning hearthwood wrapped around him, a stark contrast to the crisp mountain air outside. The common room was packed—soldiers laughing over mugs of ale, villagers sharing stories, a few off-duty scouts playing a rowdy game of cards in the corner. The firelight cast flickering shadows across the rough-hewn beams of the ceiling, giving the whole place a cozy, if somewhat chaotic, atmosphere.
His eyes scanned the room before landing on a familiar pair at a corner table—Solas, deep in quiet conversation with Varric, who was gesturing animatedly with a tankard in hand.
Daniel made his way over, weaving between the crowded tables. As he approached, Varric looked up and grinned.
"Well, well, if it isn't the Herald of Andraste himself!" Varric raised his mug in greeting. "Come to grace us lowly peasants with your holy presence?"
Daniel rolled his eyes but couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his lips. "Something like that. Mind if I join you?"
Solas inclined his head slightly. "Of course. It would be an honor."
Varric snorted. "Don't let him fool you, Herald. Chuckles here was just lecturing me on the finer points of Fade politics. Riveting stuff, really."
Solas's lips twitched in amusement. "And yet, you seemed quite invested in the discussion—right up until you realized you were losing the argument."
Varric waved a hand dismissively. "Details, details." He pushed a spare tankard toward Daniel. "Here. You look like you could use a drink."
Daniel took the offered seat, gratefully wrapping his hands around the warm mug. The ale was dark and rich, with a hint of honey and something herbal—local brew, no doubt. He took a sip, letting the warmth settle in his chest before speaking.
"So, what were you two debating so passionately?"
Varric leaned back in his chair. "Oh, you know. The usual. Whether spirits are just demons in fancy hats, whether the Chantry's ever been right about anything—"
"An oversimplification," Solas interjected dryly.
"—and whether our resident elven mystic here actually sleeps or just stands in a corner meditating all night."
Solas arched a brow. "I assure you, I sleep. Though perhaps not as… excessively as some." His gaze flicked meaningfully toward Varric, who clutched his chest in mock offense.
"Low blow, Chuckles. Low blow."
Daniel chuckled, shaking his head. The banter was familiar, almost comforting in its absurdity. For a moment, it was easy to forget the weight of the Breach, the Chantry's condemnation, the fact that he was supposed to be some kind of holy figure.
"So," Varric said, propping his chin on one hand. "How's our favorite Seeker treating you? Still glaring daggers at anyone who looks at you funny?"
Daniel snorted. "Cassandra's… intense. But she's not wrong about what needs to be done."
Solas nodded thoughtfully. "She is a woman of conviction. That is rare in these times."
Varric smirked. "Oh, she's got conviction, all right. Conviction that I'm a 'corrupting influence.'" He sighed dramatically. "And here I thought we were bonding."
Daniel chuckled into his ale. "Well, if you keep annoying her like that, it'll be hard," he said, shaking his head in amusement. "Though I'm not sure if you're trying to bond or just seeing how long it takes before she snaps and throws you in the stocks again."
Varric's grin widened. "Why not both?"
Solas exhaled through his nose, the closest he ever came to an exasperated sigh. "I would advise against testing the Seeker's patience. We may need her goodwill in the days to come."
"Oh, come on, Chuckles," Varric said, waving a hand. "A little healthy tension keeps things interesting. Besides, she secretly loves it."
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Somehow, I doubt that." He turned and caught the eye of a harried-looking barmaid weaving between tables. She hurried over, wiping her hands on her apron.
"What can I get you?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the tavern's din.
"Whatever's hot and ready," Daniel said. "And another round for the table."
The barmaid nodded and disappeared into the crowd. Varric raised his tankard in salute. "Now that's what I call leadership. The Herald knows how to keep his people happy."
"It's called basic decency," Daniel muttered, though he couldn't help but smile.
As they waited for the food, the conversation turned to the upcoming mission.
"So," Varric said, leaning forward. "Hinterlands. Demons. Angry mages and templars at each other's throats. You sure know how to pick a vacation spot, Herald."
Daniel rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, nothing like a scenic hike through war-torn farmland."
Solas swirled his drink thoughtfully. "The region is volatile, but it presents an opportunity. The people there are suffering—not just from the fighting, but from the Breach's effects. If we can aid them, it may go a long way in securing their trust."
"And their supplies," Varric added. "Let's not forget we're running an army here. Food, weapons, healing potions—none of that magically appears just because we're the 'good guys.'"
Daniel nodded. "I'll do what I can. But I'm not exactly a diplomat."
"Neither was Andraste, if the stories are true," Solas remarked. "Yet she united an empire."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Daniel said dryly. "I'm just trying to close a hole in the sky, not start a holy war."
Varric snorted. "Too late for that, I'm afraid."
The barmaid returned then, balancing a tray laden with steaming bowls of thick stew, crusty bread, and a fresh pitcher of ale. The rich aroma of herbs and slow-cooked meat made Daniel's stomach growl. He hadn't realized how hungry he was.
"Bless you," he said, handing her a few coins. She smiled tiredly and slipped back into the crowd.
For a while, they ate in companionable silence, the warmth of the food and the ale easing the tension of the day. Around them, the tavern's noise rose and fell—laughter, arguments, the occasional off-key singing from a particularly drunk patron.
Varric tore off a chunk of bread and used it to scoop up stew. "You know," he said between bites, "for a world-ending catastrophe, this isn't the worst company I've kept."
Daniel smirked. "High praise."
"Don't let it go to your head," Varric said, pointing his bread at Daniel. "I've been in some really bad company."
Solas, who had been eating with quiet precision, set his spoon down. "The Hinterlands will test us. The rifts there are more unstable than the one at the Temple. And the war between mages and templars has left the land scarred."
Daniel pushed his empty bowl away. "I know. But we don't have a choice."
"No," Solas agreed. "We do not."
Varric sighed. "Well, this got depressing fast. How about a round of Wicked Grace to lighten the mood?"
Daniel laughed. "I think I'll pass. I've heard stories about your card games."
"All of them true," Varric said cheerfully. "And exaggerated."
The hour had grown late, and the tavern's crowd had thinned slightly. Daniel stretched, feeling the day's exhaustion settle into his bones. "I should turn in. Big day tomorrow."
Varric raised his tankard. "Don't let the demons bite."
Solas inclined his head. "Rest well, Herald."
Daniel stood, tossing a few more coins onto the table for the barmaid. "Try not to corrupt anyone else tonight," he said to Varric.
"No promises."
With a final wave, Daniel made his way through the thinning crowd and out into the cold night. The stars were bright overhead, the Breach's eerie glow casting long shadows across Haven's snow-dusted paths.
His cabin wasn't far—a small, simple structure near the Chantry. As he walked, his breath fogging in the air, he replayed the day's conversations in his mind. Cassandra's doubts, Solas's warnings, Varric's irreverent humor.
They were an unlikely group, thrown together by circumstance. But for the first time since waking up in this world, Daniel felt something like... belonging since he reincarnated in this world.
He pushed open the door to his cabin, the warmth from the banked fire greeting him. Tomorrow would bring new challenges. But for now, he would rest.
The first light of dawn painted the Frostback Mountains in hues of gold and pink as Daniel stepped out of his cabin, stretching the stiffness from his limbs. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and the faint metallic tang of the Breach still swirling ominously above. Today was the day they would leave for the Hinterlands, but first, he had one last errand to complete—finding Master Taigen's notes for Adan.
He made his way through the quiet paths of Haven, the village just beginning to stir. A few early-rising soldiers nodded in greeting as he passed, their breath visible in the chilly morning air. The training camp was already active, the rhythmic clang of swords and shouted commands echoing across the grounds.
As Daniel neared the camp, his eyes caught a glint of metal half-buried in the snow near a supply chest. His perception skill activated, the familiar interface shimmering into view:
[Tier 1 Dagger Schematic: Curved Dagger] [A lightweight blade favored by Dalish hunters. Balanced for quick, precise strikes.]
[Braid of Rank]
[A woven cord marking a hunter's standing among their clan.]
Daniel tucked the schematic and braid into his pack—useful finds, even if he wasn't a rogue. Nearby, another chest sat partially hidden beneath a tarp. He pried it open, and the interface lit up again:
[Sigil of the Gamordan Stormrider – Rare][+10% Electricity Damage / -50% All Other Damage]
[Tier 2 Heavy Armor Schematic: Vanguard Coat]
[Reinforced leather and metal plates, offering solid protection without sacrificing mobility.]
[Glass Halla]
[A delicate figurine, expertly crafted. Likely valuable to collectors.]
Daniel whistled softly. The sigil was an odd one—powerful, but with a steep trade-off. The armor schematic, though, would be invaluable for their soldiers. He carefully stored the items away before continuing his search.
Near the edge of the training grounds, he spotted a cluster of elfroot peeking through the snow. His interface marked them automatically as he harvested them:
[Elfroot x2]
A few paces away, another chest yielded a modest haul:
[Gold: 62]
[Apprentice Armor – Common]
[Lightweight robes offering minimal magical defense (+3%).]
Not the most impressive find, but every bit helped.
With the immediate area scoured, Daniel followed the winding path out of Haven, retracing the route he remembered from the game. The snow crunched underfoot as he moved, his breath fogging in the cold air. Along the way, his perception skill pinged repeatedly, highlighting more resources:
[Elfroot x8]
[Iron x5]
He gathered them absently, his mind already on Taigen's notes. The apothecary had been adamant—Master Taigen had been working on something groundbreaking before his death at the Conclave. If those notes could help the Inquisition's healers, it was worth the detour.
The house came into view—a modest cottage tucked away from the main path, its roof dusted with snow. The door creaked as Daniel pushed it open, revealing a dim interior frozen in time. Dust motes floated in the slanted sunlight, and the scent of dried herbs lingered in the air.
A worktable dominated the center of the room, cluttered with vials, parchment, and half-finished experiments. Daniel's eyes locked onto a neat stack of notes beside an overturned inkwell. He picked them up, the interface confirming his find:
[Master Taigen's Research Notes]
[Advanced alchemical theories on lyrium-infused potions. Potentially revolutionary.]
Daniel exhaled in relief. Adan would be pleased.
Before heading back, Daniel remembered Threnn's requisition—they needed a steady supply of lumber. According to his memory, there should be a logging stand behind Taigen's house.
He circled the cottage, finding a narrow trail leading into the trees. The path was overgrown but passable, and as he walked, his perception skill continued to flag resources:
[Elfroot x9]
[Iron x21]
The forest grew denser, the snow thinning as the canopy overhead blocked the worst of the weather. Then, through the trees, he saw it—a small clearing with stacked logs and abandoned tools. The logging stand.
Daniel approached, the interface updating:
[Logging Stand Claimed]
[Now under Inquisition control. Resources will be regularly delivered to Haven.]
One more task checked off the list.
With Taigen's notes secured and the logging stand claimed, Daniel turned back toward Haven. The sun was higher now, casting dappled light through the trees.
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Name : Daniel Carter
Race: Elf
Level 2 : 321/1250 EXP
Professions: Mage
Gold Coins: 742 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, and Apprentice Armor
Crafting Materials: 22 Elfroot, 32 Iron, 2 Blue Vitriol, and 1 Dawn Lotus
Valuables: Aquamarine, Silver Bracelet, Figurine of Maferath the Betrayer, 2 Shadow Essence,
Gurn Gallstone Charm, Braid of Rank, and Glass Halla
Potions: Lesser Health Potions x8 and Lesser Regeneration Potions x5
Skills: Chain Lighting, Flashfire, Barrier,
Armor Schematics: Shokra-taar Schematic, Antaam-saar Schematic, Avvar Armor Schematics Acquired, Stone-Bear Armor Schematics, and Vanguard Coat Schematic
Weapon Schematics: Curved Dagger Schematic
Potion Recipe: Lesser Regeneration Potion recipe