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It’s been two years since Corypheus and his cronies fell. Two years.
Since that time, I’ve been obligated to continue in my role as Inquisitor. It’s a bit of a celebrity role now. I’m quite popular at court and bribes are sent to me on a regular basis. Oh, please, Inquisitor Lavellan, would you help this region, help assist this Lord. Pathetic, sniveling people. So what if I keep the bribes and do the exact opposite of what these people want? That’s what they’re used to from me, is it not? Me making up my own damn mind? Doing what I damn well please.
There’s word of an Exalted Council led by Divine Victoria, which is how Vivienne is now known in her role as the most highest. Honestly, I don’t quite see what all the fuss is about, but apparently not everyone wants the Inquisition to continue on, and those who do wish for control over it. Over my fucking dead body. I saved your arses. I own you all. Still, I can’t not show up to this council meeting because it apparently would look bad on us all, so Josie preps us and off we go to the Winter Palace to meet with Divine Victoria and the Ambassadors of Ferelden and Orlais.
The Winter Palace:
As we ride in under the watchful eyes of nobles and Ambassadors alike, Josephine tells us that Orlais would like to have more control over us, while Ferelden would see us disbanded completely. So, one group wants to control my every move and another wants to get rid of us: who’s going to clear up your messes here? Who has been looking after Thedas while you lot squabble among yourselves? Me, that’s who, you fuckers.
Cullen, much to my surprise, actually stayed on with us though I’ve no idea if he managed to kick his lyrium habit. We’re not exactly on the greatest of speaking terms, and he has taken to retreating to his office every night even though there are no major threats against us. He grimaces at Josephine’s suggestion that many nobles have plans to try and marry him, to ensnare him in an engagement during the council meetings. Hah! I’d actually pay to see that to be honest. Perhaps I could bribe the support of one of the nations with the promise of Cullen’s hand. It’s at least something to consider.
Cullen and Josephine leave me once we officially arrive at the Winter Palace. I suppose they have things to prepare before the meeting. I just go for a wander. My mark has been strange recently. Well, stranger than normal. Every now and then it’ll burst to life for no reason at all and it’s slightly disconcerting. Especially when it wakes me up in the middle of the night. This time, it happens in the hall where the council meeting will take place. Mother Giselle catches me at the tail end of me trying to control my mark, but I don’t think she saw it flaring to life. She asks how I have been, then informs me what has been happening in Thedas like I haven’t been receiving regular updates from my own blasted council. She tells me food is finally starting to be distributed around Emprise du Lion. It took them a bloody long time to do that, didn’t it? She tells me not all wounds heal quickly. That wasn’t a wound, that was a group of starving people. Getting food there shouldn’t be that hard. Put it on a wagon, cart it into the area. Boom, done.
Mother Giselle changes the subject. Hah. Fucking coward. She has been asked to greet me on behalf of Divine Victoria as she’s currently in a meeting with the Ferelden Ambassador. Alright then. I’ll find her later. Before she lets me go, Mother Giselle asks what I want to do with the Inquisition. We’re not bloody going anywhere unless I get grandly compensated and as I can’t see that happening anytime soon, the Inquisition will remain. Besides, someone has to make the hard decisions for the rest of the snivelling brats of Thedas.
Apparently there are a few other friendly faces around here who I might want to talk to. Well, I’d hardly say friendly. Perhaps familiar might be the better word. Save for Bull, I don’t really care too much if people call me friend.
Still, I decide it’s probably best to do my rounds and look like the caring Inquisitor, at least to the other nobles.
Varric:
Won’t speak to me. Good. I like it that way. Word has it he’s the new ruler of Kirkwall which is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. He’ll be an even worse leader than I.
Blackwall:
Won’t speak to me either, but he does hand me a letter from the Wardens requesting he come and assist in an investigation into his true identity. I guess the Wardens have finally figured out he’s not who he says he is. Took them long enough. An additional note at the bottom of the letter is from Cullen, who suggests that this charade has gone on too long, but I don’t really agree. I like having Blackwall under my thumb. Under my sole control. It’ll be a shame to have to let him go if the Wardens demand he stands trial.
Cassandra:
Won’t speak to me, but I think she’s just hurt I didn’t support her in her bid for the Divine’s seat. Child.
Bull:
Barely has more than four words for me, but that’s alright. He doesn’t tend to talk much anyway.
Cullen:
Cullen appears to have found a Mabari hound. It’s quite dopey looking—the dog, that is, not Cullen—but apparently someone abandoned him. Cullen is looking forward to training him. Is happy that the dog likes him. No shit, he’s a dog. I ask him if he has enough lyrium. Leliana has informed me he still takes the stuff, and I don’t want my Commander falling apart in the middle of these council meetings. He assures me he has everything he needs. Good.
Leliana:
Leliana asks me to walk with her. She tells me that she first came to the Winter Palace when she was eighteen. Oh god, this is going to be a personal sob story, isn’t it? She thought the Palace bright and splendid then, and now she sees something different in it. Yes. That’s called getting older, Leliana. What a depressing bore you are.
She thankfully changes the subject. She senses the fear surrounding the Inquisition’s future. There has always been some semblance of fear surrounding us, Leliana. Always has. We were the unknown force, and now we are all powerful. It’s a frightening prospect for those who want to think they are in charge. Leliana tells me to consider giving them what they want. Hell no. They can fuck off. She suggests we retreat to the shadows. Our work can continue, but unofficially, in secret. Lose all the glory? The bribes? The presents and accolades? That’s really the only thing that makes this job worth it.
I step away from her.
Ferelden’s Ambassador, the Arl of Redcliffe, is still absorbed in a meeting with Vivienne. I interrupt and tell him I need the Divine’s attention right this second. I’m tired of waiting around. I just want to get on with this so I can go back to bed or get shitfaced. I’m too fussy about which. Divine Victoria tells me I have her full support, and that there are few with enough power to tell me to disband the Inquisition. Good. I’ll get my own way then.
She takes her leave to go and prepare the summit, which the Arl of Redcliffe takes as an opportunity to make his feelings about the Inquisition and I better known. He can’t ignore my massive army on Ferelden’s border any longer. Tough shit. What are you going to do about it? He tells me he’d probably keep his army if he were me, but our lack of allegiance to an actual country—be that Orlais or Ferelden—has him concerned. Maybe I should create my own country? I’ve the power, the prowess, and the people. Now, wouldn’t that be something.
Vivienne:
Divine Victoria sends me a message through one of the servants to meet her in the baths downstairs. Perhaps the summit preparation was merely a ruse to get away from the Ambassadors? I don’t really blame her if so. Odious idiots with their endless problems. She waves at me from the baths. She’s made us an appointment at the Spa. Of course she did!
Moments later, we’re lying there with cheese wheels across our eyes. Although it’s nice to just sit and relax for a moment, I can’t help but wonder what on earth the cheese wheels are for. Vivienne—I can’t bring myself to call her the Divine while we’re dressed in our spa garb—tells me she’s surprised I don’t know what they’re for. Obviously I live in uncivilized conditions if I’ve never had the cheese wheel treatment. I roll my eyes underneath the cheese.
She asks me about Bull. Are we doing well? I don’t know. We don’t exactly see much of each other anymore and when we do we barely talk. It suits me.
The spa treatments go on for a few more hours but at the end I don’t really feel that different. Vivienne should get a refund, assuming she even paid for it.
Dorian:
I’d heard that Tevinter had sent their own Ambassador, but I hadn’t expected it to be Dorian. He approaches me and calls me friend. He’s either very buzzed, hit his head too hard, or been indoctrinated by his countrymen to be nice to me in exchange for something. Duke Cyril of Orlais interrupts Dorian and I to offer his own perspective on the Inquisition, and Dorian scuttles off in the meantime. Thanks for all your moral support, Dorian, you fucking coward.
Duke Cyril and the other nobles of Orlais apparently wish to leave us alone and merely offer its guidance. Haha yeah. Guidance. Sorry, but fuck off, Cyril. I’m not about to let anyone tell me what to do. Duke Cyril responds by telling me Orlais and Ferelden may have no choice but to unite against me. Let them try. He wishes me well and goes on his way.
As I pass back through the courtyard, Dorian calls to me from one of the seating areas. He asks me how long it’s been since we last saw each other. Two years, Dorian. He tells me it felt like ten years. Truly? Being home must have been awful for you. I wave him away.
I’m flagging by the end of all this reunion time, so I call for the summit to start. Let’s get this done.
Emma Fissenden is a writer of all trades. When she’s not pushing through her next rewrite, she’s playing too many games and working as the Editor in Chief of @noblegasqrtly. You can find her on Twitter @efissenden, or check out her other series for TMS, Game Changer.
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