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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.
The smell of stew—rich with herbs and chunks of salted meat—wafted through the camp as Varric's voice boomed across the clearing. "Herald! Get over here before these vultures leave you nothing but scraps!"
Daniel chuckled, tucking Josephine's letter away for later consideration. The political machinations of Haven could wait. For now, there was hot food and good company to be had.
He made his way toward the central fire, where soldiers and scouts had gathered in loose circles, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames. Varric stood near the largest cookpot, ladling stew into wooden bowls with exaggerated flourish.
"Took you long enough," the dwarf said, thrusting a steaming bowl into Daniel's hands. "I was starting to think you'd rather starve than try my cooking."
Daniel sniffed the stew appreciatively. "Smells better than the rations we've been eating, at least."
Varric grinned. "High praise indeed."
Cassandra joined them shortly after, accepting a bowl with a curt nod. She ate in silence for a moment before glancing at Daniel. "You seem distracted."
Daniel hesitated, then decided there was no harm in sharing. "Josephine sent word. She wants me to return to Haven after we secure the Crossroads."
Varric whistled. "That can't be good. Ruffles only pulls people back when there's nobility involved."
"Precisely what I'm dreading," Daniel muttered, stirring his stew absently.
Cassandra frowned. "We cannot afford delays. The Breach—"
"—won't wait, I know," Daniel finished. "But neither can the Inquisition's political standing. If Josephine thinks this is important..."
Cassandra exhaled sharply through her nose but didn't argue further.
The quiet crunch of snow announced Solas's return. The elf moved silently to the fire's edge, his expression unreadable in the dancing light.
"Perimeter is secure," he said, accepting a bowl from Varric. "Though I sensed... disturbances to the west. The Veil is thin there."
Daniel's hand instinctively flexed, the mark giving a faint pulse. "Demons?"
Solas shook his head. "Not yet. But the Breach's influence spreads. We should exercise caution tomorrow."
Varric groaned. "Just what we need—more demons. I was hoping for a nice, quiet hike through the countryside."
Cassandra shot him a withering look. "This is not a pleasure excursion."
"Could've fooled me," Varric muttered around a mouthful of stew.
As the meal wound down and soldiers began retiring to their tents, Daniel found himself alone by the fire with Solas. The elf stared into the flames, his face a mask of contemplation.
"You're worried about the Veil," Daniel observed.
Solas nodded slowly. "The Breach is not merely a tear—it is a wound. And like any wound, it festers the longer it remains untreated." His gaze flicked to Daniel's hand. "Your mark helps, but it is a temporary measure at best."
Daniel flexed his fingers, watching the green light shimmer. "You think we're running out of time."
"I think," Solas said carefully, "that every moment we delay risks catastrophe."
The weight of his words settled heavily between them.
Dawn came too soon.
Daniel woke to the sounds of camp breaking down—tents being folded, armor being strapped on, and the occasional curse as someone stepped on something cold and wet. He emerged from his tent to find Cassandra already armored and barking orders.
"Move with purpose! We have ground to cover before noon!"
Varric, looking distinctly unamused by the early hour, was nursing a cup of something steaming. "I take back what I said about this being a pleasure excursion," he grumbled as Daniel approached.
Daniel accepted a cup of bitter herbal tea from a passing scout. "Ready for more demons?"
Varric raised his cup in a mock toast. "Always."
Solas joined them as they mounted up, his staff secured across his back. "The path ahead is clear, but we should remain vigilant."
Cassandra took point, her posture rigid with determination. Daniel fell in beside her, with Varric and Solas bringing up the rear. Behind them, the column of soldiers marched in formation, their armor glinting in the pale morning light.
The landscape shifted gradually as they descended from the Frostbacks, the rocky mountain paths giving way to rolling hills dotted with stubborn pines and the occasional copse of birch trees. The air grew warmer, though a persistent chill lingered—a reminder that winter had not yet fully released its grip on the land.
They reached the outskirts of the Hinterlands by midday, where one of Leliana's scouts emerged from the treeline like a shadow given form. The agent, a wiry woman with a face half-hidden by a scarf, saluted crisply before falling into step beside Cassandra.
"Forward camp is just ahead, Seeker," she reported, her voice low. "At the top of the cliff. But the path isn't clear."
Cassandra's jaw tightened. "Demons?"
The scout shook her head. "Worse. Rogue templars and rebel mages are skirmishing across the entire region. They've turned the Hinterlands into a warzone."
Varric let out a low whistle. "So much for a warm welcome."
Daniel scanned the horizon, where plumes of smoke rose in the distance—burning farmsteads, most likely. The Breach pulsed overhead, its sickly green light casting an unnatural glow over the war-torn countryside.
Solas's voice was quiet but firm. "We should avoid unnecessary conflict. The more time we waste fighting their war, the longer the rifts remain open."
Cassandra nodded. "Agreed. Our priority is the forward camp. From there, we can assess the situation properly."
The path to the forward camp wound up a steep cliffside, the narrow trail barely wide enough for two horses to pass abreast. Leliana's scouts had marked the way with subtle signs—a scrap of cloth tied to a branch here, a small arrangement of stones there—guiding them safely past the worst of the fighting.
Even so, the sounds of battle were impossible to ignore.
Somewhere to the west, the clash of steel and the crackle of magic echoed through the valleys. A burst of flame lit up the sky momentarily, followed by a chorus of shouts. Daniel's grip tightened on his reins.
"Charming place," Varric muttered. "Remind me why we're here again?"
"Because someone has to fix this mess," Cassandra replied, though her tone lacked its usual bite.
The forward camp came into view as they rounded the final bend—a fortified outpost perched at the cliff's edge, its wooden palisades bristling with Inquisition banners. Guards snapped to attention as they approached, and within moments, the gates swung open to admit them.
The camp was a hive of controlled chaos. Soldiers drilled in the central yard, their shouts mingling with the clang of steel. Scouts hurried between tents, delivering reports or hauling supplies. Near the command post, a harried-looking lieutenant was arguing with a group of farmers, their faces drawn with exhaustion and fear.
A familiar figure detached from the crowd and strode toward them—Leliana, her hood pulled low against the afternoon sun.
"You made good time," she said by way of greeting. Her sharp eyes flicked over their party, assessing. "The situation here is… complicated."
Daniel dismounted, stretching to relieve the stiffness of the long ride. "We noticed."
Leliana's lips twitched, though her expression remained grave. "Mother Giselle is waiting for you at the Crossroads. But before you go, you should know—the templars and mages aren't just fighting each other. They're targeting civilians."
Cassandra's hand went to the hilt of her sword. "Why?"
"Control. Resources. Sheer spite?" Leliana shrugged. "It hardly matters. The people are caught in the middle, and they're desperate for help."
Daniel exhaled. "So we're not just closing rifts. We're putting out fires everywhere."
"Literally, in some cases," Varric added, eyeing the distant smoke.
Leliana nodded. "The Inquisition's presence here is a symbol. If we can prove we're more than just another faction vying for power—if we can actually help—"
"—then maybe people will start believing in us," Daniel finished.
"Precisely."
After a brief rest to water the horses and replenish supplies, they prepared to move out again. The Crossroads was only a few hours' ride from the forward camp, but with the countryside in turmoil, it might as well have been another world.
Cassandra addressed the soldiers who would remain at the camp. "Hold this position. If any refugees come seeking aid, give it. We are here to restore order, not add to the chaos."
The lieutenant saluted. "Understood, Seeker."
As they mounted up once more, Solas moved to Daniel's side. "Be cautious," he murmured. "The Veil is thin here. Where there is bloodshed, demons will follow."
Daniel flexed his marked hand. "I'll keep that in mind."
Varric adjusted Bianca's straps with a sigh. "Well, if we're walking into a demon-infested warzone, can we at least stop for a drink first?"
Cassandra shot him a glare, but Daniel caught the faintest hint of amusement beneath it.
"Later," he promised.
The group had barely finished preparing to leave when Leliana approached them once more, her steps silent against the packed earth of the camp. The Spymaster's expression was unreadable beneath her hood, but her voice carried the weight of urgency.
"I will return to Haven," she said, her gaze flicking between them. "But if you need information on the local situation—ask her." She gestured toward a dwarf standing near the supply tents, her arms crossed as she surveyed the camp with sharp, assessing eyes.
Without another word, Leliana turned and strode toward the gates, her scouts melting into the shadows around her as if they were extensions of her will. The dwarf, now aware of their attention, approached with a brisk, confident gait.
"The Herald of Andraste!" she exclaimed, her voice bright with a mix of awe and amusement. "I've heard the stories. Everyone has." She tilted her head, studying Daniel with open curiosity. "We know what you did at the Breach."
Daniel resisted the urge to groan. More stories. Just what I needed.
The dwarf continued, her tone shifting to something more pragmatic. "It's odd for a Dalish elf to care what happens to anyone else, but you'll get no back talk here. That's a promise." She thumped a fist against her chest in a casual salute. "Inquisition Scout Harding, at your service. I—all of us here—we'll do whatever we can to help."
Varric, who had been leaning against a supply crate with Bianca slung over his shoulder, perked up at the introduction. "Harding, huh?" he mused, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Ever been to Kirkwall's Hightown?"
Harding blinked, thrown by the sudden question. "I can't say I have. Why?"
Varric sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "You'd be Harding in—ah, never mind."
Cassandra let out a disgusted noise, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Must you?"
"It's a gift," Varric said, grinning.
Daniel, meanwhile, was still stuck on Harding's earlier comment. "I'm starting to worry about these 'stories' that everyone's heard," he admitted, rubbing his temple.
Harding waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, there's nothing to worry about. They only say you're the last great hope for Thedas."
Daniel exhaled sharply. "Oh. Wonderful."
Harding's expression softened slightly. "The Hinterlands are as good a place as any to start fixing things." She glanced toward the distant plumes of smoke, her voice turning grim. "We came to secure horses from Redcliffe's old horsemaster. I grew up here, and people always said that Dennet's herd were the strongest and fastest this side of the Frostbacks. But with the mage-templar fighting getting worse, we couldn't get to him. Maker only knows if he's even still alive."
She turned back to them, her tone shifting to something more urgent. "Mother Giselle's at the Crossroads helping refugees and the wounded. Our latest reports say that the war's spread there too. Corporal Vale and our men are doing what they can to protect the people, but they won't be able to hold out very long." She nodded toward the road leading east. "You best get going. No time to lose."
With that, Harding gave them a final nod before striding off, her attention already shifting to the next task at hand.
Daniel watched her go, feeling the weight of expectation settle over him like a second cloak. Last great hope for Thedas. The words echoed in his mind, absurd and terrifying in equal measure. He wasn't even supposed to be here. He had no grand plan, no divine mandate—just a mark on his hand and a trail of destruction in his wake.
Cassandra, ever perceptive, placed a firm hand on his shoulder. ""Do not let the stories distract you," she said quietly. "What matters is what we do now."
He nodded, though the unease lingered.
Before they could mount up, however, another figure approached—a harried-looking requisitions officer clutching a scrap of parchment. "Ser!" he called, slightly out of breath. "I've something for you."
Daniel arched a brow. "What is it?"
The officer straightened, clearing his throat. "We've been working on a project—a Dwarven Puzzle Box. It's meant to serve as entertainment for the soldiers, something to keep morale up during long campaigns. But it could also be useful for trade, if we can produce enough of them." He held out the list. "We need materials to craft the first prototype: three drakestones, one crystal grace, five ram leathers, and five pieces of obsidian."
Daniel took the list, scanning it briefly. "And if I find these?"
"Bring them to the requisitions table," the officer said eagerly. "We'll handle the rest."
Varric peered over Daniel's shoulder, whistling. "Drakestone? That's not exactly lying around in the dirt."
"No," the officer admitted. "But given the Herald's… reputation, I thought he might have better luck finding them."
Daniel sighed, tucking the list into his belt. "I'll keep an eye out."
With the sun beginning its slow descent, they set out toward the Crossroads, the sounds of distant battle a constant companion.
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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