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Tomorrow, the Hinterlands. Tomorrow, the first real test of whether this Inquisition—whether he—could actually make a difference. The thought should have terrified him. Instead, for the first time since waking up in this world, it felt like he has purpose in this world.
The first light of dawn had barely touched the Frostback peaks when Daniel stepped out of his cabin, the crisp mountain air sharp in his lungs. He adjusted the straps of his Light Armor of the Dragon, the leather supple against his movements, and pulled the Templar Scribe Cowl tighter around his shoulders—both for warmth and to obscure the faint glow of his mark from prying eyes. The Staff of the Dragon rested comfortably across his back, its weight familiar now, like an extension of himself.
Haven was already alive with purposeful chaos. Soldiers moved in organized lines, checking weapons and securing packs. Scouts darted between groups, delivering last-minute orders. The scent of burning pitch from torches mixed with the earthy aroma of horses and the sharp tang of metal being readied for battle.
Daniel made his way toward the gates, where Cassandra stood with Solas and Varric. The Seeker was in full armor, her stance rigid as she reviewed a map with Solas, while Varric leaned against a supply crate, Bianca propped beside him as he polished a bolt with exaggerated care.
As Daniel approached, Varric looked up and grinned. "Look who decided to join us! Was starting to think you'd slept through the apocalypse."
Cassandra shot the dwarf a glare before turning to Daniel. "Herald. We were just finalizing our route." She tapped the map. "Leliana's scouts report that the Crossroads are relatively clear, but the Hinterlands are vast. We'll need to establish additional camps as we go."
Solas studied Daniel with those unsettlingly knowing eyes. "You are prepared?"
"As I'll ever be," Daniel said, rolling his shoulders. The weight of the coming mission settled over him, but it was a familiar burden now.
Beyond their small group, a force for their expedition was assembling. Cullen stood at the head of a column of 250 soldiers, his voice carrying as he barked orders. The soldiers—a mix of seasoned warriors and fresh recruits—checked their gear with disciplined efficiency. Their armor gleamed in the pale morning light, a sea of steel and determination.
Leliana moved among a smaller group of her agents, her movements swift and silent. The scouts were already armed with light bows and daggers, their leathers dyed in muted colors for stealth. She paused to murmur something to one of them, then glanced up, catching Daniel's eye. A nod passed between them—no words needed.
Josephine, the diplomat, was overseeing the final loading of supplies. A line of sturdy carriages stood ready, one of which would carry their reserves of food, medicine, and equipment. Nearby, stablehands tended to the horses—four sleek mounts for their inner circle, fifty for the soldiers, and five massive draft horses to pull the supply carriage.
Varric whistled lowly. "Well, Herald. Looks like you've got yourself an army."
Daniel exhaled. "Let's hope it's enough."
Cassandra folded the map and tucked it into her belt. "We move out within the hour. The forward camp is a day's hard ride, but with the scouts clearing the way, we should make good time."
Solas tilted his head, his gaze distant for a moment. "The Breach's energy is... unsettled today. We would do well not to linger."
Daniel didn't need the warning. Even now, he could feel the mark on his hand pulsing faintly, a reminder of what awaited them.
Josephine approached, her usual composed demeanor slightly frayed at the edges. "Herald, a moment?" She handed him a sealed letter. "For Mother Giselle. She may have allies who can aid us, but we must tread carefully. The Chantry's eyes are everywhere."
Daniel took the letter, tucking it into his pack. "Understood."
Cullen strode over, his armor clinking with each step. "The men are ready, Herald. Just give the word."
Daniel looked around—at Cassandra's unwavering resolve, Solas's quiet intensity, Varric's wry confidence. At the soldiers who had placed their trust in him, the scouts who would risk their lives to pave their way.
He took a deep breath.
"Then let's move out."
Just as the expedition prepared to move out, Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine stepped forward in unison, their expressions grave. The morning sun cast long shadows behind them as they approached Cassandra and Daniel, the weight of their unspoken concerns palpable in the crisp mountain air.
Cullen was the first to speak, his voice carrying the steady authority of a man who had spent years commanding troops. "Before you go," he began, crossing his arms, "remember that the Hinterlands isn't just about closing rifts or fighting demons. Spread the word of the Inquisition. Every village, every farmstead—people need to know we're there to restore order, not just wage war." His steel-blue eyes flicked between them. "Establish camps as you secure areas. If we let chaos take root again after clearing it out, we'll have gained nothing."
Leliana stepped forward next, her hood casting her sharp features in shadow. "And do not overlook potential allies," she said, her voice low but carrying an undeniable intensity. "The Hinterlands are full of those with... peculiar skills. Hunters who know the land better than any map, healers versed in remedies even our apothecaries haven't mastered. Recruit them. The Inquisition's strength lies not just in numbers, but in the talents of those who serve it."
Josephine's turn came with a sigh, her quill tapping absently against her clipboard. "And please," she said, her Antivan accent softening the urgency of her words, "remember that every interaction is a chance to build—or damage—our reputation. The Chantry's denouncement has already made securing support difficult. If we're seen as brash or tyrannical, we'll lose what little goodwill we've managed to scrape together." She fixed Daniel with a pointed look. "That means no setting fire to villages, even if they're full of particularly irritating templars."
Varric, leaning against a nearby supply crate, snorted. "So, what you're saying is: be nice, don't start fights, and for Andraste's sake, don't let Ruffles here down."
Josephine's lips twitched, though she maintained her diplomatic composure. "In fewer words, yes."
Cullen cleared his throat, drawing attention back. "One last thing. The 250 soldiers accompanying you will remain in the Hinterlands to maintain control. The other half of our forces will stay here to defend Haven." His jaw tightened. "We can't afford to leave our stronghold unprotected, not with the Breach still looming over us."
Cassandra nodded sharply. "Understood."
Daniel exhaled, absorbing their words. The scope of what lay ahead settled over him—this wasn't just a mission to seal rifts. It was about laying the foundation for something greater. "We'll keep it all in mind," he said finally.
Cullen clapped a hand on his shoulder, the gesture firm but not unkind. "Maker watch over you, Herald."
Leliana's gaze was unreadable, but her voice carried quiet conviction. "And don't die. It would be inconvenient."
Josephine rolled her eyes but offered a small smile. "Try to return in one piece. Preferably with fewer angry nobles in your wake."
### **The March Begins**
With final orders given, the gates of Haven creaked open, revealing the winding mountain path beyond. The soldiers fell into formation, their boots crunching in unison against the frostbitten earth. Scouts fanned out ahead, their figures soon disappearing into the mist-shrouded valleys below.
Daniel mounted his horse, the animal snorting impatiently beneath him. Cassandra took the lead, her posture rigid with purpose, while Solas and Varric fell in beside Daniel. Behind them, the supply wagons groaned under their burdens, the draft horses straining against their harnesses.
As they passed through the gates, Daniel cast one last look over his shoulder. Haven stood resolute against the morning light, its banners fluttering in the breeze. The Breach pulsed above it, a silent reminder of why they marched.
Varric followed his gaze and smirked. "Don't worry, Herald. Something tells me we'll be back sooner than we'd like."
Daniel turned forward, toward the uncertain horizon. "Let's hope it's not because we're running for our lives."
The Hinterlands awaited.
The winding mountain path stretched before them, the jagged peaks of the Frostbacks looming on either side like silent sentinels. The crisp morning air carried the scent of pine and damp earth, mingling with the occasional metallic tang of armor polish from the marching soldiers. Daniel guided his horse alongside Cassandra, Varric, and Solas, the steady rhythm of hooves against stone filling the comfortable silence between them.
After a while, Daniel turned to Solas, curiosity getting the better of him. "You've traveled the Fade more than anyone I've met," he began. "What's it really like?"
Solas's lips curved slightly, though his gaze remained fixed on the path ahead. "The Fade is... fluid," he said after a moment. "It shifts with thought and memory, reflecting the minds that touch it. To walk there is to walk through the echoes of history itself."
Varric snorted. "Sounds like one of those fancy Orlesian plays where nothing makes sense until someone gets stabbed."
Cassandra rolled her eyes, but Solas merely chuckled. "An apt comparison, in some ways. The Fade is a place of metaphor and meaning. Spirits are drawn to emotions, to concepts—valor, despair, wisdom. They are not so different from mortals in that regard."
Daniel frowned. "But demons—"
"Are spirits twisted by force or fear," Solas finished, his voice taking on a harder edge. "Just as a man might become a monster under the right cruelty, so too can a spirit be corrupted." He glanced at Daniel. "The Breach has torn the Veil asunder, allowing both to spill into our world unchecked."
Cassandra shifted in her saddle, her grip tightening on the reins. "And that is why we must close it."
Solas nodded. "Indeed."
As the day wore on and the sun climbed higher, the group settled into an easy rhythm of conversation. Varric, ever the storyteller, regaled them with tales of Kirkwall's underbelly—smuggler's dens, corrupt nobles, and the occasional drunken brawl involving a surprisingly articulate nug.
Cassandra listened with grudging interest, though she interjected at one point, "I still maintain that half of these stories are exaggerated."
Varric placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. "Seeker, you wound me. Every word is true—mostly."
Daniel laughed, then turned back to Solas. "You mentioned traveling the Fade physically. How is that even possible?"
Solas's expression grew thoughtful. "There are... places where the Veil is thin. Ancient ruins, sites of great emotion or magic. With the right knowledge, one can slip between worlds, if only for a time." His eyes grew distant. "I have walked paths forgotten by history, seen empires rise and fall in the shifting currents of the Fade."
Varric raised an eyebrow. "And you're just sharing this now? Chuckles, you've been holding out on us."
Solas smiled faintly. "Some things are not meant for casual conversation."
Cassandra eyed him warily but said nothing.
As dusk began to settle over the mountains, the expedition made camp in a sheltered clearing. Scouts patrolled the perimeter while soldiers set up tents and built fires. Daniel found himself sitting beside Solas near one such fire, the flickering light casting shadows across the elf's sharp features.
"You speak of the Fade like it's a second home," Daniel observed.
Solas stared into the flames. "In many ways, it is. The Fade is a reflection of all that was and could be. To understand it is to understand the very fabric of our world." He glanced at Daniel. "Your mark—it is tied to the Fade in ways even I do not fully comprehend. That is why it can seal the rifts."
Daniel flexed his hand, the green glow pulsing faintly. "Lucky me."
Solas's gaze was unreadable. "Luck is a curious thing, is it not?"
Daniel replied with a smile. "Yes it is."
Then Daniel exhaled, watching his breath mist in the cooling evening air as he finished tending to the horses. The animals huffed contentedly, their warm breath creating small clouds as they nosed at the feed in his hands. He gave one a final pat before turning—only to find a shadowy figure approaching from the edge of camp.
One of Leliana's agents.
The scout moved with silent efficiency, offering a sealed letter with a gloved hand. "From Ambassador Montilyet, ser," they murmured before melting back into the dusk.
Daniel cracked the seal, squinting at the elegant script in the fading light.
Herald,
Once you've met with Mother Giselle and secured the Crossroads, I must ask you to return to Haven briefly. There is a matter requiring your attention. I would explain further, but some things are better discussed in person.
Yours,
Josephine
Daniel folded the letter, tucking it into his belt pouch. "Something that needs convincing," he muttered. That could mean anything from smoothing over political tensions to outright bribing some disgruntled noble. Josephine's wording was always diplomatic, but the urgency beneath it was clear.
A burst of laughter drew his attention to the center of camp, where Varric was overseeing the cooking fires with his usual irreverent charm. "No, no, that's how you stir a stew without losing an eyebrow," the dwarf was saying, demonstrating with exaggerated motions as a group of soldiers watched, some amused, others skeptical.
Nearby, Cassandra directed the setup of tents with military precision, her voice carrying across the clearing. "Secure those lines properly, unless you want to wake up buried in canvas!"
Solas was nowhere to be seen—likely still scouting the perimeter, as was his habit.
Daniel rubbed his temples. The Hinterlands mission was already complex enough without adding a detour back to Haven. But if Josephine needed him, it couldn't be trivial. He'd deal with Mother Giselle first. Then, whatever political storm awaited.
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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, Lesser Regeneration Potions x5, and x5 Lyrium Potion
Skills: Chain Lighting, Flashfire, Barrier,
Armor Schematics: Shokra-taar Schematic, Antaam-saar Schematic, Avvar Armor Schematics Acquired, Stone-Bear Armor Schematics, Vanguard Coat Schematic,
Weapon Schematics: Curved Dagger Schematic
Potion Recipe: Lesser Regeneration Potion recipe and Lyrium Potion Recipe