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As they moved out, the astrarium stood silent behind them—a sentinel of forgotten knowledge, waiting patiently to be understood.
The astrarium's mystery would have to wait. As Daniel and his companions descended the hillside, the world reminded them sharply of more immediate concerns—a large herd of mountain rams, at least thirty strong, grazing in a rocky clearing below. Their thick, shaggy coats rippled in the wind, their curved horns glinting in the fading light.
Daniel signaled for the group to halt behind a cluster of boulders. "That's more than we expected," he murmured.
Varric peered over the rocks. "Enough to feed the Crossroads for weeks. If we can get them back."
Cassandra studied the terrain with a soldier's eye. "We'll need to cull carefully. Too much noise, and the entire herd will bolt."
The lieutenant—a grizzled veteran named Renn—scratched at his scarred cheek. "Even if we take down ten, how do we transport that much meat? We've no carts, no pack animals..."
Daniel exhaled, watching his breath fog in the cold air. The problem was twofold: securing food for the refugees, and ensuring it didn't spoil before reaching them. His mind raced through options.
"We'll split the group," Daniel decided. "Twenty soldiers to escort the meat back to the Crossroads immediately. The rest continue with us to the watchtower and supply cache."
Renn frowned. "And the transport?"
Cassandra, ever practical, had already spotted a solution. She pointed toward the tree line where the remains of two abandoned wagons lay half-hidden in the brush—left behind by fleeing refugees, their axles broken but the beds still serviceable. "We can rig those to carry the carcasses."
Solas tilted his head. "The wood is sound enough. With some rope and a bit of repair..."
Varric chuckled. "Nothing like a little impromptu butcher's convoy."
They moved with precision. Inquisition archers took positions on the high ground, their arrows tipped with hunting broadheads designed for clean kills. Scouts circled to cut off potential escape routes. Daniel, Cassandra, and a handful of soldiers crept closer, weapons ready.
The first volley took down six rams before the herd even startled. The animals milled in confusion, their alarm calls echoing off the rocks. A second volley dropped four more. The rest scattered—but not before Daniel's party intercepted them, blades flashing.
It was over in minutes. Twelve rams lay dead, their ends quick and painless. The soldiers moved in to field dress the carcasses, their knives glinting red in the waning light.
Skinning and quartering the animals was messy work, but the soldiers performed it with practiced efficiency. Strips of meat were wrapped in the rams' own hides to preserve them, while the choicest cuts—loins, haunches—were set aside for smoking. The scent of blood and viscera hung heavy in the air, attracting crows that circled overhead like dark omens.
Daniel Interface also appear as told him to loot the bodies which he confuse as the rams has already been cut but he said ok and the interface told him.
[gained 10 Rams leather and 3 Rams horn]
Then Daniel turn his focus back as he wiped his hands on a scrap of cloth, watching as soldiers lashed the repaired wagons together with rope and green wood. "How long to get this back to the Crossroads?"
Renn estimated, "With twenty men pushing and pulling? Before midnight, if the paths hold."
Cassandra nodded. "Good. The sooner it arrives, the sooner Whittle can distribute it."
As the butchering concluded, Daniel addressed the soldiers who would return to the village. "Tell the hunter we'll bring more if we can. And let Corporal Vale know we're heading for the Winterwatch Tower next."
The lieutenant saluted. "Maker watch over you, Herald."
With that, the group split—the wagon train lumbering back toward the Crossroads, its precious cargo swaying with each bump in the trail. The remaining forces reformed, their numbers diminished but their purpose sharpened.
Varric watched the wagons disappear into the gloom. "Hope they make it. That much meat walking through bandit country..."
Solas's voice was quiet. "Hunger makes predators of us all."
Daniel adjusted the strap of his staff. "Then let's make sure this ends with fewer predators."
As they marched, the terrain grew steeper, the pines giving way to gnarled, wind-twisted oaks. The air smelled of damp earth and something else—woodsmoke, faint but unmistakable.
The scent of woodsmoke grew stronger as they pressed onward, mingling with the metallic tang of blood still clinging to their weapons. Daniel kept glancing back over his shoulder, though the wagon train had long since disappeared into the gloom.
"I hope that meat reaches the Crossroads safely," he muttered, more to himself than anyone.
Varric, trudging beside him, gave a humorless chuckle. "If it doesn't, we'll be eating roasted bandit by week's end."
Cassandra shot him a glare but said nothing. The tension in her shoulders spoke volumes—every delay, every diversion cost them time they couldn't afford.
Then the sounds reached them.
Not the distant howl of wolves or the rustle of game through the underbrush, but the unmistakable clash of steel and the sizzling crackle of magic. Ahead, where the path curved around a rocky outcrop, flashes of light illuminated the trees in bursts of orange and blue.
"Maker's breath," Cassandra hissed, already drawing her sword.
They crested the rise to chaos.
At least fifty combatants filled the clearing—a mix of rogue templars in battered armor and wild-eyed mages whose staves crackled with unstable energy. The ground between them was littered with bodies, some still twitching.
Daniel didn't hesitate.
His staff came up, the air around him humming with gathered energy. "Chain Lightning!"
The spell arced from his fingertips, forking between three templars in the blink of an eye. Their armor conducted the charge beautifully—muscles locked, limbs spasming as they crumpled.
Before the first body hit the ground, Daniel was already moving. "Flashfire!"
A gout of flame erupted beneath a cluster of mages, sending them scrambling. One didn't move fast enough; his robes caught, the fire spreading with unnatural speed. His screams were cut short as Varric's crossbow bolt took him through the throat.
The Inquisition soldiers fanned out, engaging with disciplined precision. Cassandra waded into the thickest fighting, her shield deflecting spells and blades alike. Solas hung back, his staff weaving barriers to protect their forces while freezing enemies in place with well-timed Winter's Grasp spells.
It was over in minutes.
The last templar fell with Cassandra's sword through his gut. The final mage, a young woman barely out of her teens, dropped her staff and raised shaking hands. "Please! I surrender! I just—I didn't want to die in a cage!"
Cassandra hesitated, her blade still raised.
Daniel stepped between them. "Bind her. She'll answer to the Inquisition."
As the adrenaline faded, the true cost became clear. The farmhouse was a lost cause, its beams collapsing into the inferno. The fields around it were trampled and scorched. And the bodies...
"Lieutenant!" Cassandra barked. "Prioritize our wounded."
The grizzled officer saluted and set to work, directing healers to those who still breathed.
Daniel moved through the carnage, his boots sticking in the blood-soaked earth. His vision flickered strangely at the edges:
[105 EXP Gained]
He shook his head to clear it, then knelt beside a dead templar. The man's armor bore the insignia of Val Royeaux, though the metal was badly dented. Tucked into his belt was a scrap of parchment—a crude but serviceable map showing a section of the Frostback foothills labeled "Calenhad's Foothold." His interface also appear show that he got 4 Silk from the body which he the only one who knows.
[Gained 4 Silk]
"Cassandra," Daniel called, holding it up. "Recognize this?"
She studied it briefly, her mouth tightening. "A templar staging ground. Or what's left of one."
Varric whistled low. "So the crazies have a home base. Good to know."
Solas, who had been examining the surrendered mage, joined them. "She claims they were ambushed. The templars tracked them from Redcliffe."
Daniel pocketed the map. Another piece in the puzzle. Another potential fire to put out.
But the Winterwatch Tower still loomed ahead, its secrets waiting. And somewhere in the Crossroads, an elven woman's breath grew shorter with each passing hour.
Daniel wiped his hands clean on his trousers, though the blood had long since dried. "We move on. The tower can't be far now."
As they reformed their ranks, the surrendered mage—her hands bound, her face streaked with soot and tears—was placed under guard. The wounded were stabilized as best they could be. The dead were left where they lay; there was no time for burials.
The march toward the tower resumed, though the pace was slower now—eyes scanning the undergrowth for threats, ears straining for the telltale sounds of another ambush. The forest here was dense, the canopy thick enough to blot out much of the fading daylight.
As they picked their way along the trail, Daniel's gaze caught on clusters of blue flowers peeking through the underbrush. Elfroot. He knelt, harvesting them with careful fingers. His vision flickered briefly:
[Gained 3 Elfroot]
Further on, a rust-colored outcropping of rock caught his attention. Veins of iron ore ran through it like old scars. A few strikes with the pommel of his dagger dislodged several usable chunks.
[Gained 4 Iron]
Varric watched the process with amusement. "Never took you for a gatherer, Herald."
Daniel shrugged, tucking the ore into his pack. "Every bit helps."
The cave mouth appeared suddenly—a yawning darkness set into the hillside, partially obscured by hanging vines. A faint, metallic scent drifted from within, undercut with something sharper. Sulfur, perhaps.
Cassandra held up a fist, signaling the column to halt. "Something's watching us."
As if summoned by her words, a low growl rumbled from the shadows. Then—movement. A massive shape lunged forward, all muscle and snapping jaws.
"Maker's breath!" Varric backpedaled, Bianca coming up in a flash.
The mabari was enormous, nearly twice the size of a normal war hound. Its coat was matted with old blood, its eyes wild with pain or madness. Saliva dripped from yellowed fangs as it circled, searching for an opening.
Daniel reacted first. A bolt of lightning arced from his staff, striking the beast square in the chest. It howled but didn't go down, its charge only faltering for a second.
Cassandra moved in, her shield deflecting a swipe of claws that would have gutted a lesser warrior. Varric's crossbow sang, the bolt embedding itself in the hound's flank. Solas's magic wrapped around its legs, frost crawling up its limbs to slow its movements.
The fight was brutal but short. The mabari fought with the desperation of a cornered animal, but numbers and tactics won out. When it finally collapsed, its massive body shook the ground.
Daniel's vision swam briefly:
[27 EXP Gained]
Varric nudged the carcass with his boot. "That's no normal mabari. Someone bred—or corrupted—this thing."
Solas knelt, examining the beast's eyes. "Its pupils are wrong. See how they're slit, like a serpent's? This is no natural creature."
Cassandra wiped her blade clean. "Then let's see what it was guarding."
The cave interior was cooler, the air thick with the scent of damp stone and something metallic. Just inside the entrance, Daniel spotted an unusual rock formation—a jagged spike of dark stone shot through with veins of red. He pried it loose.
[Gained 1 Drakestone]
Varric hung back near the entrance, his usual bravado notably absent. "Just so we're clear, not every dwarf likes caves. Some of us prefer our holes in the ground to have proper ceilings and ale on tap."
Daniel couldn't help but smile as they pressed deeper. The cave opened into a wider chamber, its walls glittering with more deposits. Three more drakestones came free with some effort, along with several chunks of iron ore.
[Gained 3 Drakestone]
[Gained 8 Iron]
But the true find was against the far wall—a stack of crates bearing the faded insignia of the Redcliffe Circle. Cassandra pried one open to reveal blankets, healer's kits, and sacks of dried grains.
"The apostate supplies Whittle mentioned," she said, relief coloring her tone. She turned to the lieutenant. "Take the carriage we saw outside and load what you can. The Crossroads needs these more than we do."
As the soldiers set to work, Daniel explored further. A small alcove held a chest, its lock long since broken. Inside rested a small figurine—a crudely carved representation of Maferath, his features twisted in betrayal. The craftsmanship was poor, but the weight of it felt significant.
[Figurine of Maferath the Betrayer added to inventory]
Beside the chest lay a corpse.
The dwarf had been dead for weeks, his beard stiff with dried blood. A dozen sword wounds marked his chest and back—this was no clean kill, but an execution. A scroll lay near his outstretched hand, as if he'd been trying to reach it in his final moments.
Daniel unrolled it carefully. The words were smudged in places, but clear enough:
"I need you to check a cave up in the hills of the path between Redcliffe and Haven. If you can get past the mages and templars, it's worth it. Purest vein I've ever seen so close to the surface."
His interface pulsed:
[50 EXP Gained]
Varric peered over his shoulder. "Well, that explains the drakestone. And probably why our friend here ended up with more holes than a cheese wheel."
Solas studied the walls with new interest. "This cave is a miner's dream. Or a death sentence, depending on who finds out about it."
Daniel pocketed the scroll. Another secret to keep. Another potential resource for the Inquisition—or a future battleground if the wrong factions learned of it.
As they emerged from the cave, the last light of day painted the sky in hues of violet and gold. The carriage was nearly loaded, the soldiers working with quiet efficiency.
Cassandra joined Daniel at the mouth of the cave. "We're close to the tower now. Perhaps an hour's march."
He nodded, his mind racing. The supplies would save lives. The cave's resources could arm and equip their forces. The map to Calenhad's Foothold might lead to a templar stronghold. And somewhere ahead, Hyndel and his cult awaited.
So many threads. So little time.
Daniel adjusted the strap of his staff and turned toward the path. "Then let's not keep them waiting."
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Name : Daniel Carter
Race: Elf
Level 2 : 961/1250 EXP
Professions: Mage
Gold Coins: 749 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, and Qunari Battleaxe
Crafting Materials: 27 Elfroot, 44 Iron, 2 Blue Vitriol, 1 Dawn Lotus, 9 Silk, 1 Lambswool, 1 Royal Elfroot, 10 Ram Leather, and 4 Drakestone
Valuables: Aquamarine, Silver Bracelet, 2 Figurine of Maferath the Betrayer, 2 Shadow Essence,
Gurn Gallstone Charm, Braid of Rank, Glass Halla, 1 Weapon Fragment, 1 Silver Necklace, and 1 Ram Horn
Potions: Lesser Health Potions x8, Lesser Regeneration Potions x5, and x5 Lyrium Potion
Skills: Chain Lighting, Flashfire, and 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