DAI: Becoming The Inquisitor

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As the others had bedded down, Daniel found himself taking the last watch. The fire had burned low, leaving embers glowing like eyes in the dark. The mountains loomed around them, silent sentinels in the night.

The morning dawned crisp and clear, the kind of winter day that would have been beautiful if not for the ominous green tear still pulsing in the sky. Daniel stretched, his muscles protesting after another night on the hard ground, and rolled up his bedroll with stiff fingers. Around him, the others were already moving—Cassandra checking her armor for damage, Varric grumbling as he laced up his boots, Solas quietly extinguishing the last embers of their fire with a flick of his wrist.

They broke camp in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The final stretch to Haven lay before them, the path winding down through the foothills until the village walls came into view—wooden palisades reinforced with stone, smoke curling from chimneys, the familiar bustle of Inquisition soldiers moving about their duties.

Daniel patted Max's neck as they approached the gates. The horse huffed, tossing his head as if he, too, recognized they were finally home.

The guards at the gate snapped to attention as they rode through, saluting sharply. "Herald! You're back!"

Daniel nodded, dismounting with a wince as his boots hit the packed snow. "Any trouble while we were gone?"

"None, ser. Though the Lady Ambassador's been asking after you daily."

Of course she has, Daniel thought. Josephine's polite but relentless efficiency was something he'd come to both admire and dread.

Cassandra swung down from her own horse beside him, her expression unreadable as she surveyed the courtyard. "We should report to the war council immediately."

Varric groaned, rubbing his lower back. "Can't it wait an hour? I'd kill for a hot meal and a chair that doesn't try to impale me."

Solas, was already leading his mount toward the stables. "The Breach does not pause for comfort, Master Tethras."

"Yeah, yeah, 'the fate of the world' and all that," Varric muttered, but he followed anyway.

Daniel handed Max's reins to a stablehand, then turned to the sergeant overseeing the returning soldiers. "Send the wounded to the healers first—make sure their injuries haven't worsened on the road. The rest can return to their tents to rest."

The sergeant saluted. "At once, ser."

As the soldiers dispersed, Daniel caught sight of a familiar red-headed figure striding toward them from the chantry. Leliana's sharp eyes missed nothing as she approached, her hands tucked into the sleeves of her robes.

"You're late," she said, though there was no real reproach in her tone.

Daniel arched a brow. "We ran into some complications."

"So I've heard." Her gaze flicked to Cassandra, then back. "Josephine and Cullen are waiting. They'll want to hear everything."

Varric sighed dramatically. "No rest for the wicked, huh?"

Leliana's lips quirked. "If you were hoping for wickedness, Master Tethras, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. The war council is a strictly professional affair."

"Now that's a tragedy."

Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose. "Maker give me strength."

Daniel rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the grit of days on the road beneath his fingers. The thought of sitting through hours of war council deliberations while still coated in dust, sweat, and Maker knew what else made his skin crawl. He met Leliana's gaze, mustering what he hoped was a convincingly weary but apologetic smile.

"Can we push the meeting back an hour or two?" he asked. "I'd like to wash off the road and get something that isn't dried meat or hardtack into my stomach before we start strategizing the fate of Thedas."

Leliana studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, to his surprise, the corner of her mouth twitched. "I suppose even the Herald of Andraste is entitled to a bath."

Varric let out a bark of laughter. "Andraste's holy knickers, yes. If we're going to argue for hours, I'd rather not do it while smelling like a druffalo's backside."

Cassandra opened her mouth, likely to argue, but Solas spoke first, his tone mild. "A brief delay will do no harm. The Breach has remained stable for days. Another hour will not tip the balance."

Cassandra exhaled sharply through her nose but relented. "Very well. But no longer than two hours."

Daniel grinned. "You're a saint, Seeker."

"I am tolerating this," she corrected, though there was no real heat in it.

Leliana nodded. "Two hours, then. I'll inform Josephine and Cullen." With that, she turned and glided back toward the chantry, her steps eerily silent even in the snow.

Varric clapped Daniel on the shoulder. "Nice work, Herald. I was starting to think you'd forgotten how to ask for things like a normal person instead of a martyr-in-training."

Daniel rolled his eyes but didn't argue. The truth was, he had forgotten, in a way. Since the explosion at the Conclave, every moment had been about survival, about the next crisis, the next decision. The idea of pausing—just for a little while—felt almost decadent.

Haven's baths were a small luxury, tucked into a repurposed storage building near the chantry. The Inquisition's quartermaster, a Fereldan named Threnn, had rigged a system to heat water using spare forge coals, and though it wasn't exactly the grand baths of Val Royeaux, it was a damn sight better than snowmelt and a rag.

Daniel sank into the wooden tub with a groan, the heat seeping into his aching muscles. For a moment, he just sat there, eyes closed, letting the steam curl around him. The scent of pine soap—crude but serviceable—cut through the lingering stench of travel.

A knock at the door startled him.

"Come in," he called, too relaxed to care much about privacy.

The door creaked open, and a young recruit—barely more than a boy—peered in, holding a tray. "Ser! The Lady Ambassador sent food. Said you shouldn't strategize on an empty stomach."

Daniel blinked. Leave it to Josephine to think of that. The tray held a hunk of fresh bread, a wedge of cheese, a handful of dried fruit, and, blessedly, a cup of something that smelled suspiciously like actual wine.

"Tell her I owe her one," Daniel said, taking the tray.

The recruit nodded eagerly and scurried off.

Daniel ate slowly, savoring each bite. The bread was still warm, the cheese sharp and tangy. Even the wine, though likely the cheapest vintage available, tasted like ambrosia after days of trail rations.

As he ate, his mind wandered back to Redcliffe, to the strange thickness in the air, the way Fiona had looked at him—assessing, almost calculating. What were the mages really doing there? And the templars—where had Lucius taken them, and why?

He shook his head, dragging himself back to the present. Those were questions for the war council. For now, he had a rare gift: a moment of quiet.

He intended to enjoy it.

Clean and marginally more like an elf, Daniel stepped out into the chilly afternoon air, running a hand through his still-damp hair. He'd barely gone five steps before Varric appeared at his elbow, looking remarkably refreshed himself.

"Don't you look almost civilized," Varric said, grinning.

Daniel snorted. "I'd say the same, but you've still got that 'I slept on a rock' hunch."

"Ah, the perils of being a storyteller. My spine's permanently bent from hunching over desks."

They fell into step together, heading toward the tavern. If they were stealing an hour, they might as well do it properly.

The Singing Maiden was bustling, filled with off-duty soldiers and scouts. The air was thick with the scent of stew, ale, and woodsmoke. A few heads turned as they entered, murmurs of "Herald" following them, but most were too absorbed in their own conversations to pay them much mind.

Daniel claimed a corner table while Varric sauntered up to the bar, returning moments later with two tankards.

"To not being dead yet," Varric said, clinking his mug against Daniel's.

Daniel took a long pull. The ale was cheap and bitter, but it was cold, and right now, that was enough.

"So," Varric said, leaning back in his chair. "You ready for the circus?"

Daniel grimaced. "Which one? The 'let's argue about templars' circus or the 'let's argue about mages' one?"

"Why not both? I'm sure Josie can make it a double feature."

Daniel rubbed his temples. "Maker, I hope not."

Varric's grin faded slightly. "For what it's worth, I think you're right. About not rushing into a decision, I mean. This isn't just about closing the Breach. It's about what comes after."

Daniel studied him. "Since when do you care about politics?"

"Since they started affecting my drinking habits." Varric took another swig. "Look, I've seen enough shit in Kirkwall to know how this goes. You pick a side, the other side hates you forever, and next thing you know, you're knee-deep in a war nobody wanted. So if you're trying to avoid that? Good."

Daniel didn't answer. Kirkwall's legacy hung heavy over everything now—the rebellion, the Circles, the templars. He'd heard the stories. He knew how it ended.

He also knew they might not have a choice.

The warmth of the tavern faded quickly as Daniel and Varric stepped back into Haven's crisp evening air. The Breach pulsed overhead, its eerie green light casting long shadows across the snow. Daniel exhaled, watching his breath curl in the cold, then squared his shoulders. Time to face the music.

The Chantry loomed ahead, its heavy doors flanked by two Inquisition guards who snapped to attention as they approached. Inside, the air was thick with incense and the low murmur of Chantry sisters at prayer. The war room lay just beyond the main hall, its door slightly ajar, spilling torchlight into the dim corridor.

Daniel didn't bother knocking.

The room was exactly as he'd expected—Cassandra standing rigid near the head of the table, her arms crossed; Leliana leaning over a map of Orlais, her fingers tracing invisible paths; Cullen pacing near the fireplace, his armor gleaming in the firelight; Josephine scribbling notes with her usual elegant precision; and Solas, silent and watchful in the corner, his expression unreadable.

All eyes turned as they entered.

"You're late," Cassandra said, though there was less bite in it than usual.

Daniel held up his hands. "You gave us two hours. It's barely been one and a half."

Josephine set down her quill, the soft scratching of its tip against parchment finally ceasing. "We've been reviewing our options while we waited. The situation has... developed."

Leliana straightened from where she'd been studying the map, her gloved fingers brushing aside a lock of red hair that had escaped her hood. "My agents in the city have already sent word ahead. We knew what transpired in Val Royeaux before your party even returned."

Cullen stopped his pacing near the fireplace, the flames casting sharp shadows across his face. "It's a shame the templars abandoned their senses as well as the capital." The bitterness in his voice was palpable, the words laced with the disappointment of a former templar watching his old order crumble.

Daniel leaned against the war table, his palms pressing into the worn wood. "At least we've made contact with them. Now we can discuss how to approach them properly."

Josephine nodded, her dark eyes thoughtful. "You're right, Herald. And now we must determine our next steps—how to approach both the templars and the mages."

Cassandra let out a slow breath, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Do we? What Lord Seeker Lucius did in Val Royeaux... that was not the man I remember." Her brow furrowed, as if she were sifting through memories of a different time, a different leader.

Leliana's voice was cool, measured. "Agreed. He has led the Order away, but to what end? The reports I've received have been... very odd."

Cullen turned, his armor clinking softly. "Even so, we must continue to investigate. I refuse to believe every templar supports what the Lord Seeker did in Val Royeaux. There must be those within the Order who still remember their duty."

Josephine tapped her quill against her notes. "Or," she interjected smoothly, "the Herald could simply go to meet the mages in Redcliffe instead."

Cullen stopped mid-step, turning sharply to face her. "So you think the rebel mages are more united? They could be worse than the templars—desperate, unpredictable. Now that they've broken free, who knows what they might do?"

Daniel exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Either way, we should try to approach both sides. We need all the help we can get."

Josephine inclined her head. "Of course, Herald. I only meant to propose that we shouldn't discount the rebel mages entirely."

Cassandra's jaw tightened. "I understand your point, Ambassador. But desperation makes them dangerous. More than you might realize."

Daniel met her gaze evenly. "There will always be danger, Cassandra. I've been in danger since the moment I walked out of that rift."

Varric, who had been quietly observing from his seat, finally spoke up. "If you're going to argue that the mages might have been behind the Conclave explosion, Seeker, you have to admit the same could be said for the templars."

Cullen didn't flinch. "True enough. But I'm not certain we even have enough influence to approach the Order safely at this point."

Cassandra's expression darkened. "Then we need more agents. More allies. That's something you can help with now, Herald."

Josephine, ever the diplomat, interjected before the tension could escalate further. "In the meantime, perhaps we should focus on how to approach both factions. And if we can only manage one... which should it be?"

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the decision pressing down on them all.

One by one, they began to leave—Josephine first, gathering her papers with a quiet murmur of excuses about correspondence to attend to. Cullen followed, his strides stiff with frustration. Varric pushed back his chair with a sigh, muttering something about needing a drink. Solas, ever silent, merely inclined his head and slipped out like a shadow.

Cassandra lingered only a moment longer, her gaze locked with Daniel's. "Think carefully," she said, before turning on her heel and striding out.

And then there were two.

Leliana remained, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the map. The firelight flickered across her face, illuminating the sharp angles of her cheekbones, the calculating gleam in her eyes.

Daniel didn't move from where he stood by the war table, watching as Leliana continued tracing invisible lines across the map. The firelight painted her face in flickering gold and shadow, making her expression even more unreadable than usual.

"There's something else you wanted to tell me, isn't there?" he asked, breaking the silence.

Leliana's fingers stilled. She didn't look up immediately, but when she did, her blue eyes were sharp, calculating. "Yes. There is one other matter."

She straightened, folding her arms into the sleeves of her robes—a habit Daniel had come to recognize as her way of steadying herself before delivering difficult news.

"Several months ago," she began, her voice low, "the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished."

Daniel frowned. "Vanished?"

"Disappeared. No word, no warning. I sent inquiries to their counterparts in Orlais, but they, too, are gone." She exhaled slowly, the weight of the revelation settling between them. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't even consider the possibility they're involved in all this... but the timing is too coincidental."

Daniel leaned back against the table, crossing his arms. "Who are the Grey Wardens?"

Leliana's gaze grew distant, as if she were recalling something from long ago. "An ancient order. They've existed since the First Blight, thousands of years ago, sworn to fight darkspawn and end the Blights. They've faded since those glory days, but they never disappeared entirely." She paused, her voice dropping. "Ordinarily, they remain neutral in political affairs. But now... they've been seen in strange places. Acting in ways that don't align with their history."

Daniel rubbed his temple, the implications sinking in. "So you're telling me that an entire order of legendary warriors—people who specialize in fighting monsters—just vanished right when the sky tears open and demons start pouring out?"

Leliana's lips thinned. "Precisely."

"That's really suspicious if you put it that way," Daniel muttered.

She didn't smile. "The others dismissed my concerns when I first raised them. Cassandra believes the Wardens would never involve themselves in such matters. Cullen thinks they've simply gone to ground. But I cannot ignore it."

Daniel studied her. "You think they're connected to the Breach?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "But two days ago, my agents in the Hinterlands reported sightings of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. If you have the opportunity... seek him out. Perhaps he can put my mind at ease."

Daniel arched a brow. "And if he doesn't even know what's happening?"

Leliana's expression darkened. "Then something has happened—something big enough to make an entire order of warriors disappear without a trace. And if that's the case... it may be far worse than we've imagined."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken dread.

Daniel exhaled sharply, pushing off the table. "Alright. If we run into this Blackwall, we'll see what he knows."

Leliana nodded, seemingly satisfied—for now. "Thank you, Daniel."

With that, she turned and glided toward the door, her footsteps silent against the stone floor. Just before she stepped out, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder. "Be careful in Redcliffe. If the Wardens are involved in this... we may be walking into something far more dangerous than rebel mages."

Then she was gone, leaving Daniel alone in the war room with nothing but the crackling fire and the weight of yet another mystery pressing down on him.

Daniel lingered for a long moment, staring at the map spread across the table. Redcliffe. Therinfal. The Hinterlands. Everywhere they turned, there were more questions, more dangers, more pieces that didn't quite fit.

The Grey Wardens.

He'd heard stories, of course—everyone had. The heroes who had ended the Fifth Blight. The warriors who had stood against the Archdemon and lived to tell the tale. But if they were gone now, when the world needed them most... what did that mean?

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

Varric poked his head in, holding a tankard of ale in one hand. "You planning to brood in here all night, or are you coming to drink with the rest of us mortals?"

Daniel snorted, shaking off the unease. "I thought you were getting drunk, not recruiting."

Varric grinned. "Why not both? Come on. If we're marching into the unknown tomorrow, we might as well enjoy tonight."

Daniel hesitated, glancing once more at the map—at the markers denoting Redcliffe, at the empty spaces where the Grey Wardens should have been. Then he pushed away from the table.

"Alright. But you're buying."

Varric's laughter echoed down the hall as they left the war room behind, stepping into the cold night air where the Breach still pulsed overhead, silent and watchful.

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Name : Daniel Carter

Race: Elf

Level 5 : 2475/2500 EXP

Professions: Mage

Gold Coins: 2289 coins

Weapon: Staff of the Dragon

Armor: Light Armor of the Dragon and Templar Scribe Scowl

Accessories: Token of the Packmaster and Belt of Health

Inventory: Acolyte Ice Staff, Morning Star, Stiletto, Hunting Longbow, Fire Resistance Cowl, Mercenary Coat, Acolyte Fire Staff, Disciple Lighting Staff, Apprentice Armor, Qunari Battleaxe, Raider Hatchet, 2 Disciple Fire Staff, Apprentice Mail, Qunari Buckler, Medium Adventure Armor, Mindleech Staff, Soldier's Nemesis, 2 Recruit's Dirk, Reinforced Dagger, Sledgehammer, Disciple Lighting Staff, Apprentice Armor, Exacting Longbow, Barbarian Lord Maul, Lifeward Amulet, and Grenade Belt

Crafting Materials: 37 Elfroot, 62 Iron, 2 Blue Vitriol, 1 Dawn Lotus, 11 Silk, 17 Lambswool, 3 Royal Elfroot, 10 Ram Leather, 23 Drakestone, 4 Fire Essence, 3 Blue Vitriol, 11 Canine Leather, 4 Plaidewaive, 2 Frost Essence, 1 Fade-Touched Iron, 4 Blood Lotus, 5 Embrium, 10 Spindleweed, 16 Onyx, 3 Ironbarks, 2 Crystal Grace, and 1 Serpenstone

Upgrades: Sigil of the Gamordan Stromrider and Sigil of Deathroot

Valuables: 2 Shadow Essence, 1 Ram Horn, 1 Dreamer Rag, 5 Weapon Fragment, 2 Bowstring, 8 Mysterious Shards, Nevarra Skull, 1 Wisp Essence, and 1 Wolf Fangs

Potions: Lesser Health Potions x8, Lesser Regeneration Potions x5, and x5 Lyrium Potion

Skills: Chain Lighting, Flashfire, Barrier, Winter's Grasp, and Energy Barrage

Armor Schematics: Shokra-taar Schematic, Antaam-saar Schematic, Avvar Armor Schematics Acquired, Stone-Bear Armor Schematics, Vanguard Coat Schematic, Sturdy Defender Coat Schematic, and Scout Mail Arms Schematic

Weapon Schematics: Curved Dagger Schematic and Hunting Bow Schematic

Potion Recipe: Lesser Regeneration Potion recipe and Lyrium Potion Recipe

Bottles of Thedas: Vint-9 Rowan's Rose and Carnal, 8:69 Blessed