DAI: Becoming The Inquisitor

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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.

The Singing Maiden was alive with the low hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter, a stark contrast to the heavy silence of the war room. Varric led Daniel to a corner table, already flagging down the bartender for another round before they'd even sat down.

The tankards arrived quickly—ale for Varric, something stronger for Daniel—and for a moment, they drank in silence. The alcohol burned its way down Daniel's throat, a temporary reprieve from the storm of thoughts swirling in his head.

Varric studied him over the rim of his mug. "Well, the council meeting really troubled you, kid."

It wasn't a question.

Daniel exhaled, rubbing his marked hand absently. The green glow pulsed faintly, a constant reminder of the burden he carried. "Yeah. It's just... exhausting." He leaned back in his chair, the weight of the last few weeks pressing down on him all at once. "I haven't had a single breath since this whole mess started. The Conclave explodes, I wake up with this damn mark on my hand, and suddenly I'm the 'Herald of Andraste'—except, oh wait, the Chantry's denouncing me as a heretic and accusing me of murdering the Divine."

He took another long drink, the bitterness of the liquor matching the bitterness in his voice. "And let's not forget the cherry on top: I'm a Dalish elf. Half of Thedas already looks at me like I'm some kind of savage, and the other half expects me to fix the fucking sky."

Varric didn't interrupt. He just listened, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

Daniel dragged a hand through his hair. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't want this. And now every decision I make could mean life or death for thousands of people. Templars or mages? Chantry or rebellion? And now Grey Wardens are missing? It's too much."

The words spilled out before he could stop them, raw and unfiltered. He hadn't realized just how much he'd been holding in until now.

Varric waited a beat, then leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "You're right. It is too much. But here's the thing—you're not alone in this."

Daniel scoffed. "Tell that to the Chantry."

"Fuck the Chantry," Varric said bluntly. "They're a bunch of self-righteous pricks who wouldn't know the Maker's will if it bit them in the ass. But the people here? The ones who actually matter? They're with you."

Daniel glanced around the tavern. Inquisitor soldiers, scouts, even a few townsfolk—all of them had thrown in their lot with the Inquisition. With him.

Varric tapped his tankard against Daniel's. "Look, I'm not going to feed you some bullshit about destiny or divine purpose. But I will say this: you've got a knack for pissing off the right people. And that? That's a good start."

Daniel couldn't help the tired smirk that tugged at his lips. "Thanks. I think."

Varric grinned. "Anytime, kid. Now drink up. Tomorrow's going to be a shitstorm, and we might as well face it with a hangover."

Daniel raised his glass. "To terrible decisions."

Varric clinked his mug against it. "And even worse consequences."

Varric's tankard hit the table with a thud, ale sloshing over the rim. His normally jovial expression darkened into something unreadable. "Wait—the Grey Wardens are missing?"

Daniel nodded, swirling the liquor in his glass. "According to Leliana, yeah. Both the Fereldan and Orlesian branches have vanished without a trace."

Varric let out a low whistle, rubbing his chin. "That's... not good. Like, 'maybe we should start digging our own graves now' levels of not good."

Daniel leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Cassandra, Josephine, and Cullen don't buy it. They think Leliana's seeing shadows where there aren't any."

"And you?" Varric arched a brow.

Daniel exhaled sharply. "I think an entire order of legendary warriors—whose entire purpose is fighting darkspawn and demons—disappearing right when the sky splits open and hell pours through? That's not a coincidence. That's a goddamn pattern."

Varric's fingers drummed against the table. "You think they're involved in this Breach business?"

"I don't know." Daniel ran a hand through his hair. "But Leliana mentioned a Warden named Blackwall was spotted in the Hinterlands. If we can find him, maybe we'll get some answers."

Varric's eyes narrowed. "Blackwall, huh? Don't think I've heard of him."

"Neither have I," Daniel admitted. "But Leliana seems to think he's our best lead."

The dwarf leaned back, folding his arms. "So let me get this straight. We've got rebel mages playing with time magic, templars following a guy who's clearly lost his marbles, and now the Grey Wardens have pulled a disappearing act?" He shook his head. "You know, for a guy who supposedly has Andraste's favor, you've got the worst luck I've ever seen."

Daniel snorted into his drink. "Tell me about it."

A comfortable silence settled between them, the noise of the tavern fading into the background. For a moment, it was just two friends sharing a drink, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten.

Then Varric sighed. "Alright, let's say we find this Blackwall guy. What then? You really think one Warden can explain why the whole order vanished?"

Daniel stared at the dregs of his liquor. "I don't know. But it's a start. And right now, it's the only lead we've got."

Varric studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Well, when you put it that way..." He raised his tankard. "To chasing ghosts and hoping they don't bite."

Daniel clinked his glass against it. "And to surviving the hangover tomorrow."

They drank, the warmth of the alcohol a small comfort against the cold uncertainty of what lay ahead.

The tavern door creaked open, letting in a gust of cold air that made the candle flames flicker. Daniel glanced up from his drink to see Cullen standing in the doorway, his golden armor replaced with a simpler tunic and cloak, though he still carried himself with the bearing of a soldier. The commander's eyes scanned the room before landing on their table.

"Well, well, well," Daniel drawled, raising his glass in mock salute. "If it isn't the commander of the army. I suppose even you take a break now and then."

Cullen's lips quirked into a tired smile as he approached. "Even templars need to sleep, Herald. Or so I've heard." He pulled out a chair and sat, motioning to the bartender for a drink of his own.

Varric chuckled. "Careful, Curly. If you start admitting you're human, people might start expecting things from you."

"Too late for that," Cullen muttered, running a hand through his already-disheveled hair. The bartender slid a tankard of ale toward him, and he took a long pull before continuing. "Just finished another round of training with the new recruits. Maker knows we need every able body we can get."

Daniel leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "So how many fresh faces do we have?"

Cullen sighed, wiping the ale from his lips with the back of his hand. "Not as many as I'd like. Just a batch of a hundred or so, mostly refugees from the Hinterlands. Our influence hasn't spread much beyond that yet."

Varric whistled. "That's not exactly an army."

"It's not," Cullen admitted. "But it's growing. Right now, we're sitting at around seven hundred total, though a good chunk of that—about two hundred and fifty—are stationed in the Hinterlands to maintain order."

Daniel frowned. "Seven hundred against the end of the world. That's... not great odds."

"No," Cullen agreed. "But it's better than nothing. And the more we stabilize the region, the more people will flock to the Inquisition's banner." He took another sip, his expression turning thoughtful. "Assuming, of course, we don't all get swallowed by the Breach first."

Varric snorted. "Always the optimist, Curly."

Cullen shot him a wry look. "Realist. There's a difference."

Daniel swirled the remnants of his drink, watching the liquid slosh against the sides of the glass. "We'll need more than just soldiers if we're going to pull this off. Allies. Resources. Right now, we're stretched thin, and every decision feels like a gamble."

Cullen nodded. "Which is why we need to focus on securing the Hinterlands fully before branching out. If we can establish a solid foothold there, it'll give us the foundation we need to push further."

Varric leaned back, folding his arms. "And what about the mages and templars? Can't exactly ignore that mess."

Cullen's jaw tightened. "No. But until we have more information, rushing into either situation could backfire spectacularly."

Daniel exhaled sharply. "So we're back to waiting."

"Not waiting," Cullen corrected. "Preparing. There's a difference."

Varric grinned. "Spoken like a true military man."

Cullen rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

For a while, the three of them drank in companionable silence, the weight of their responsibilities momentarily set aside. The tavern around them buzzed with laughter and conversation, a stark contrast to the grim reality outside its walls.

Eventually, Cullen set his tankard down with a decisive thud. "I should get back. There are still reports to review before tomorrow."

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "And here I thought you were taking a break."

Cullen smirked. "This was the break."

Varric shook his head. "You're worse than Aveline, and that's saying something."

Cullen chuckled as he stood, tossing a few coins onto the table. "Try not to drink yourselves into oblivion. We've got work to do tomorrow."

Daniel saluted him with his glass. "No promises."

With a final nod, Cullen turned and strode out of the tavern, his cloak billowing behind him.

Varric watched him go before turning back to Daniel. "You know, for a guy who used to be a templar, he's not half bad."

Daniel smirked. "High praise coming from you."

Varric shrugged. "What can I say? I've got a soft spot for hopeless causes."

Daniel laughed, though the sound was hollow. "Then you're in the right place."

The tavern door swung open again, cutting through the warm haze of alcohol and conversation. This time, it was Cassandra who stood framed in the doorway, her sharp eyes scanning the room before locking onto their table. The Seeker's posture was rigid, her arms crossed over her chest in that familiar stance that meant business.

Varric groaned into his tankard. "Oh, here we go."

Cassandra marched over, her boots thudding against the wooden floorboards. "Herald," she said, her voice carrying that no-nonsense tone Daniel had come to know all too well. "You must get some rest. Tomorrow we head back to the Hinterlands."

Daniel blinked, setting his drink down with deliberate slowness. "Isn't that a bit soon? We just got back to Haven today."

Cassandra's jaw tightened. "I know. But the Breach does not wait for our convenience."

Varric leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. "Come on, Seeker. Even the Maker took a day off."

She shot him a glare that could have melted steel. "This is not a joke, Varric."

Daniel held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. After this drink, I'll head back to my cabin and get some rest." He paused, then added, "And we're leaving at evening, not morning."

Cassandra opened her mouth to argue, but Daniel cut her off with a tired smile. "I need at least one proper night's sleep in a real bed before we go charging back into the wilderness. Besides," he gestured to Varric, "someone needs to sober up."

Varric clutched his chest dramatically. "You wound me, Herald."

Cassandra exhaled sharply through her nose, clearly weighing the merits of dragging Daniel out by his ear versus allowing this small concession. After a moment, she relented. "Fine. Evening departure. But do not be late."

Daniel saluted her with two fingers. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Cassandra rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, her cloak swirling behind her as she strode out of the tavern. The door slammed shut with more force than strictly necessary.

Varric chuckled. "You know, I think she's starting to like you."

Daniel snorted. "That was her liking me?"

"Trust me, I've seen her when she's really pissed. That was practically affectionate."

They both laughed, though Daniel's was cut short by a yawn. Now that Cassandra had mentioned it, the exhaustion of the past few days was starting to catch up with him. The warmth of the tavern, the alcohol in his veins—it all made the idea of his cabin and a real bed incredibly appealing.

Varric seemed to notice, because he waved a hand dismissively. "Go on, get out of here. I'll finish your drink."

Daniel arched a brow. "That's very generous of you."

"What can I say? I'm a giver."

With a final chuckle, Daniel pushed himself to his feet, stretching the kinks out of his back. "Alright. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Varric grinned. "So... nothing, then?"

Daniel flipped him off good-naturedly as he made his way to the door. The cold night air hit him like a slap as he stepped outside, but it was bracing, clearing some of the fog from his mind. Above him, the Breach pulsed lazily, its green light casting eerie shadows across the snow.

Haven was quiet at this hour, most of its inhabitants already retired for the night. The only sounds were the distant murmur of the night watch and the occasional crackle of torches. Daniel made his way to the small cabin that had been designated as his—a modest space with a bed, a desk, and little else, but it was more than he'd had in weeks.

He pushed the door open, the hinges creaking softly, and was greeted by the faint scent of pine from the fire that had been lit earlier. Someone—likely one of Josephine's people—had left a tray of bread and cheese on the desk, along with a pitcher of water. Small comforts, but they mattered.

Daniel sank onto the bed, pulling off his boots with a groan. The mattress was thin, but after days of sleeping on the ground, it might as well have been a royal featherbed. He lay back, staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling, his mind still churning despite his exhaustion.

Tomorrow—no, tomorrow evening—they would ride out again. Back to the Hinterlands, back to the chaos and the fighting and the endless decisions. Back to the mystery of the missing Grey Wardens and the looming threat of the Breach.

But for now, just for tonight, he could rest.

Daniel closed his eyes, letting the weight of sleep pull him under.

The morning sun cast long shadows across Haven as Daniel stepped out of his cabin, stretching the stiffness from his limbs. The crisp mountain air carried the scent of pine and woodsmoke, a welcome change from the stale ale and sweat of the tavern. He'd slept better than expected, though his dreams had been restless—visions of green fire and a voice whispering from the void.

He shook off the remnants of sleep, deciding to take a walk through the village before the evening departure. Haven was already bustling with activity—soldiers drilling in the yard, craftsmen repairing gear, messengers darting between buildings. The Inquisition was growing, but it still felt fragile, like a sapling trying to take root in rocky soil.

As he neared the Chantry, a figure caught his eye. A man stood near the entrance, clearly trying to get the attention of passersby, but everyone was too preoccupied with their own tasks to notice him. He was tall, with cropped dark hair and the bearing of a soldier, though his armor bore no insignia Daniel recognized.

Curious, Daniel approached. "You look like you need something."

The man turned, his sharp eyes assessing Daniel in a single glance. "You're the one in charge, right? The Herald... or Inquisitor, or whatever they're calling you now?"

Daniel crossed his arms. "Who's asking?"

"Name's Krem," the man said, extending a hand. "Lieutenant of the Bull's Chargers. We're a mercenary company—best in Orlais, if you believe our boss's stories."

Daniel shook his hand, noting the callouses of a seasoned fighter. "Mercenaries? What brings you to Haven?"

Krem grinned, though there was something calculating behind it. "The Iron Bull—our boss—sent me to scope you out. He thinks your little 'end of the world' problem might be worth our time." He paused, then added, "Plus, he's got a nose for interesting opportunities."

Daniel arched a brow. "And?"

Krem's grin widened. "And let's be honest, your recruits could use some polish."

Daniel couldn't help but chuckle. "Fair point. What's your price?"

"Price is negotiable," Krem said, shrugging. "As for the Bull... let's just say he likes to keep an eye on big players. And right now, you're the biggest."

Daniel studied him for a long moment. The offer was tempting—skilled fighters were in short supply, and if the Bull's Chargers were half as good as Krem claimed, they could be a valuable asset. But mercenaries came with their own risks. Loyalty bought with coin wasn't loyalty at all.

Still, they couldn't afford to turn away potential allies.

"Tell your boss we'll take the meeting," Daniel said at last.

Krem saluted, a quick, efficient motion. "Your call, boss. You can meet us at thw Storm Coast, as we have a commision there. But trust me—you won't regret giving us a shot."

With that, he turned and strode off, blending into the crowd with the ease of a man used to moving unnoticed.

Daniel watched him go, already turning the implications over in his mind. The Iron Bull. The Bull's Chargers. Another piece on the board, another player in the game.

He exhaled, rubbing his temple. Just what they needed—more variables.

Daniel found Varric near the training grounds, watching a group of recruits fumble through sword drills with the kind of pained expression usually reserved for bad poetry.

"You look like you're enjoying yourself," Daniel remarked, falling into step beside him.

Varric sighed. "If this is what passes for soldiers these days, we might as well start writing our epitaphs now."

Daniel smirked. "Good thing we might be getting some reinforcements, then."

Varric perked up. "Oh? Do tell."

Daniel recounted his conversation with Krem, watching as Varric's expression shifted from curiosity to amusement.

"The Iron Bull?" Varric repeated, chuckling. "Now there's a name. Heard stories about him—Qunari mercenary, runs a tight crew. Supposedly fought in Seheron for years before branching out on his own."

Daniel frowned. "Qunari? That complicates things."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Varric shrugged. "Bull's not exactly the typical Qunari, from what I've heard. He's got his own way of doing things."

Daniel rubbed his chin. "You think we can trust him?"

"Trust?" Varric snorted. "No. But can we use him? Absolutely."

Daniel shot him a look. "That's reassuring."

Varric grinned. "Hey, in our line of work, you take what you can get."

Before Daniel could reply, Cassandra's voice cut through the air. "Herald! A word."

She marched toward them, her expression as stern as ever. "The preparations for the Hinterlands are nearly complete. But we need to discuss our route."

Daniel nodded toward the mountain pass. "We'll take the same route we used last time to reach the Hinterlands. It's familiar ground, and our scouts have already cleared most of the dangers along that path."

Cassandra's brow furrowed slightly. "That path adds nearly half a day to our travel time. With the Breach growing more unstable each day—"

"We'll make up the time by traveling lighter," Daniel interrupted. "And I'd rather take a known route than risk getting ambushed trying to cut through unknown terrain after dark." He met her gaze steadily. "We can't afford delays caused by avoidable mistakes."

Varric chimed in, "The Herald's got a point, Seeker. Remember what happened last time we tried taking shortcuts? That 'harmless' ravine turned out to be full of angry brontos."

Cassandra exhaled sharply through her nose, but after a moment gave a curt nod. "Very well. The known route it is." She turned to leave, then paused. "But we leave at evening just like you ask. Not tomorrow, as every hour counts."

Daniel opened his mouth to protest, but Varric elbowed him subtly. "We'll be ready," the dwarf said smoothly before Daniel could argue.

As Cassandra strode away, Daniel shot Varric a look. "You know I could negotiate it again right?"

Varric shrugged. "Pick your battles, Herald. At least we're taking the safer path." He gestured toward the tavern. "Now come on - let's get one last decent meal before we're back to eating trail rations and dodging demons."

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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