Dragon Age Inquisition: Faith

Part I: The Tale of the Champion

*******************************************

This is the story of Juliet Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall.

It is also the story of the men and women who stood at the Champion’s side as she became a legend. Her brother Carver, who fought to find his own path. Aveline Vallen, a warrior and protector without equal. Isabela, a charismatic pirate trapped in Kirkwall by a shipwreck—among other things. Merrill, a Dalish elf whose kind heart carried a dangerous obsession. Fenris, a former slave whose desire to escape his past was matched only by his hatred of magic. Plus a charming dwarf with a deadly crossbow and a heart of gold—that would be me.

And, of course, Anders.

I’ll have more to say about Anders.

Almost everyone in Thedas has an opinion about the Champion. I have heard her called a hero and a traitor, a savoir and a coward, a rebel and a pawn.

My name is Varric Tethras, and I am honored to call her my friend.

*******************************************

“What’re you reading?”

Cecily looked up, startled, and grabbed for the pommel of her saddle. Reading and horseback riding weren’t necessarily the best combination, but she had to do something to keep her mind off their destination.

Kallian had steered her horse up next to Cecily’s and was looking quizzically over her shoulder. “The Tale of the Champion? Again? Which part?”

“The Kirkwall rebellion,” Cecily admitted. “I’m at the part where the Templar officer breaks ranks and defends the Champion. Do you think that really happened?”

“Sure, Cecy. A Templar officer stepped in to defend an apostate during a mage rebellion. And nugs can fly, and Lake Calenhad is filled with chocolate,” Kallian said, rolling her eyes. “The author just made that up so the Chantry wouldn’t accuse him of being anti-Templar. If there were Templars like that we wouldn’t need this bloody Conclave.”

Cecily sighed and slipped the book back into her saddlebag. “You never were one for comforting illusions, Kalli. I suppose if he were real, Varric Tethras would have included his name.”

“Oh, don’t look like I’ve told you Winterfair is cancelled. If you need a distraction, why not flirt with some of the mercenaries? They’re a good-looking bunch, as sellswords go.” Kallian’s eyes crinkled merrily.

Cecily laughed. “As if I could draw their attention when you’re around," she teased. Kallian had been her first friend in the Circle—the clever elf had been the only one willing to reach out to the haughty newcomer with the famous last name. That was Kalli all over, charming and at ease with anyone.

Kallian shrugged playfully. "I can't help being irresistible, you know that." But then her smile shifted into a more serious expression. “Cecy ... what do you think will happen at the Conclave?”

Cecily pulled her coat closer and let out her breath; the puff of air coiled through the winter cold. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “We must do all we can to help Divine Justinia see our side. We’re told she’s sympathetic to the complaints that led to the rebellion, and surely she will agree that invoking the Rite at a Circle like ours went too far.”

She had tried to start with her hopeful thoughts, but her optimism sounded false, even to her. She slumped a bit in her saddle. “Truthfully, though? Things may be too far gone for reconciliation. We have to try. But not even the Divine may be enough to end this war.”

Kalli sighed. “That’s what I think too,” she said, resignation clear on her face. “Shit. You’re better than I am at politics. I was hoping I was wrong.”

“The Maker can hear you swear, Kallian,” Cecily said primly. It had been one of the first things Cecily had ever said to Kalli, and it was now a joke between them.

Kallian laughed dutifully, but Cecily could tell her attention was focused ahead of them, on the Temple of Sacred Ashes, now just a few short miles away.