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________________________________________________ Below, the lieutenant and his men were loading the last of the apostate cache onto the carriage. The sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the bloodied earth.
The descent from the burning farmhouse felt heavier than the climb. Daniel's boots scuffed against the loose gravel of the hillside, each step kicking up small clouds of dust that mingled with the lingering scent of smoke clinging to their clothes. Behind them, the fire continued to consume what remained of the structure, its angry crackles fading into the distance as they rejoined the lieutenant and his soldiers.
The lieutenant stood by the now heavily-laden carriage, his weathered face streaked with soot and sweat. He snapped to attention as they approached, relief flashing across his features. "Herald. Seeker." His gaze flicked toward the smoking ruin on the hill before returning to them. "We've secured all supplies from the cache. This should be enough to sustain the Crossroads to face the cold weather."
Cassandra ran a hand along one of the crates, her fingers tracing the rough wood grain. "Good work. Any trouble while we were gone?"
The lieutenant shook his head. "None, ser. Though..." He hesitated, glancing toward the distant column of smoke. "Was there anyone...?"
Daniel's jaw tightened. "No survivors."
A muscle twitched in the lieutenant's cheek, but he simply nodded. "Understood." He turned to his men, raising his voice. "Form up! We move for the Crossroads at double-time—I want these supplies delivered before nightfall!"
As the soldiers scrambled to obey, Varric moved to Daniel's side, his voice pitched low. "You know, for a guy who just watched us walk out of a burning building full of corpses, he's taking it remarkably well."
Solas, who had been quietly observing the exchange, arched one slender eyebrow. "Military training breeds compartmentalization. As does survival in times like these."
The dwarf snorted. "Yeah, well, I'd still kill for a drink."
Cassandra shot him a look. "Focus, Varric. The Crossroads awaits—and with it, more who need our help."
Daniel exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting toward the horizon where the makeshift refugee camp lay. The weight of the day's discoveries pressed against his ribs—the coded letter from the rogue templars, the journal's desperate final entry, the charred remains of those who had thought a locked door might save them. Each step forward felt like wading through deepening waters.
But they had supplies now. Medicine. Food. Blankets. Winter clothes. A small measure of hope to deliver amidst the chaos.
Varric clapped him on the shoulder, startling him from his thoughts. "Come on, kid. Let's get this caravan moving before Cassandra starts assigning laps for 'slackness.'"
Cassandra's indignant sputter was almost worth the exhaustion. Almost.
As the carriage creaked into motion, the last light of day gilded the broken landscape around them. Somewhere ahead, the Crossroads teemed with frightened, hungry people. Somewhere beyond that, the "Just" templars plotted their next atrocity along the West Road.
The carriage wheels groaned as they rolled along the dirt path, the fading light casting long shadows across the road. The soldiers marched in formation around it, their hands never far from their weapons. Daniel kept his staff ready, his senses alert—the Hinterlands had proven time and again that danger could lurk behind every bend.
They hadn't gone far when the air crackled.
A bolt of lightning struck the ground mere feet from the lead soldier, sending dirt and pebbles flying. From the tree line, two figures emerged—rogue mages, their robes tattered, their eyes wild with desperation and something darker.
"Inquisition!" one of them snarled, raising his staff. "You're no better than the templars!"
Cassandra didn't wait for them to strike again. "Shields up!" she barked, already moving forward, her sword gleaming in the dying light.
Daniel reacted instantly, throwing a barrier over the nearest soldiers just as a fireball hurtled toward them. The flames splashed harmlessly against the shimmering magic, but the heat still made the men flinch.
Varric cursed, already sighting down Bianca's barrel. "You'd think people would learn not to shoot at us by now."
The first mage went down with a bolt through the shoulder, his spell fizzling into nothing as he crumpled. The second, a gaunt woman with sunken cheeks, screamed in fury and unleashed a torrent of ice shards.
Solas stepped forward, his Keeper Ice Staff glowing. With a sharp motion, he pulled, and the woman's magic twisted midair, the ice shards shattering harmlessly before they could strike. Her eyes widened in shock—just before Cassandra's sword found her chest.
The fight was over before it had truly begun.
Daniel's interface flickered:
[30 EXP Gained]
[2 Rogue Mages Defeated]
[Obtained: Miniature Throne (Valuable)]
[Obtained: Weapon Fragments (Research Material)]
Varric nudged one of the fallen mages with his boot, his expression uncharacteristically grim. "They weren't even trying to rob us. Just... attack."
Cassandra wiped her blade clean. "Fear makes people reckless. And the Breach makes them desperate."
Solas crouched beside the bodies, his fingers brushing against the tattered edges of their robes. "These were no trained combat mages. They were running. And they saw us as just another enemy."
Daniel exhaled, rubbing his temple. Another tragedy in a land drowning in them. "We should keep moving. The Crossroads isn't far."
As they continued, Daniel let his perception guide him, his eyes scanning the roadside for anything useful. His interface pinged softly as he spotted a cluster of half-buried ore near a rocky outcrop.
[Obtained: 6 Iron]
Further on, a patch of vibrant green caught his eye—elfroot, its leaves still fresh despite the encroaching cold. He harvested it carefully, tucking it into his belt pouch.
[Obtained: 1 Elfroot]
But the real find came moments later. Nestled among a pile of ordinary iron fragments was something... different. A shard of metal that seemed to pulse faintly, its surface shimmering with an otherworldly sheen. When Daniel picked it up, his fingers tingled as if the metal was alive.
His interface identified it immediately:
[Obtained: Fade-Touched Iron – Tier 1 Masterwork Metal]
Varric whistled. "Now that's a find. You could make some nasty weapons with that."
Solas studied the metal with keen interest. "Fade-touched materials are rare. This must have been exposed to a rift at some point—imbued with raw Fade energy."
Cassandra arched a brow. "Is it safe?"
"For crafting? Yes. For carrying around in your pocket?" Solas's lips quirked. "Mostly."
Daniel tucked it away carefully. Another resource for the Inquisition. Another tool to fight what was coming.
The sun had nearly set by the time the Crossroads came into view. The makeshift refugee camp sprawled across the central square, its tents and lean-tos clustered around the chantry like chicks around a mother hen. The smell of woodsmoke and cooking stew filled the air, mingling with the ever-present tension of a people living on the edge of survival.
Mother Giselle stood near the chantry steps, her tall frame unmistakable even at a distance. She turned as they approached, her sharp eyes taking in the laden carriage, the weary soldiers, the blood and soot still staining their armor.
"You've returned," she said, her voice carrying the weight of both gratitude and sorrow. "And not empty-handed, I see."
Daniel nodded. "Supplies. Enough to last through the worst of the cold."
Her shoulders relaxed slightly. "Maker bless you. These people have endured too much already."
Cassandra stepped forward. "There's more. We encountered rogue templars—a faction calling themselves the 'Just.' They're gathering along the West Road."
Mother Giselle's expression darkened. "Then the rumors are true. I had hoped..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "No matter. Come. The wounded need tending, and you all look like you could use a hot meal."
Varric didn't need to be told twice. "Now that's the best news I've heard all day."
As they moved into the camp, Daniel's gaze swept over the refugees—the hollow-eyed children, the exhausted mothers, the wounded laid out on bedrolls near the chantry doors.
The warm scent of stew and freshly baked bread filled the air as Mother Giselle and a handful of refugee volunteers moved through the camp, distributing meals to the Inquisition soldiers and their companions. Daniel accepted a wooden bowl gratefully, the heat seeping into his chilled fingers. Around him, the soldiers relaxed slightly, their postures loosening as they ate—some sitting on crates, others leaning against the carriage, all of them weary but relieved to have made it back safely.
His eyes drifted across the camp, taking in the faces of those they'd come to help. Near one of the makeshift tents, he spotted Hyndel's father, the elven man with deep-set eyes, kneeling beside a woman wrapped in threadbare blankets. She was pale, her breathing shallow, but there was a steadiness to it that hadn't been there before.
Daniel approached, his boots crunching softly against the frozen earth. "How is she?"
Hyndel's father looked up, exhaustion lining his face, but there was a flicker of gratitude in his gaze. "The potion helped. She's holding on. Thank you."
A small, quiet victory. Daniel nodded, clapping the man lightly on the shoulder before stepping back to give them space. As he did, his interface flickered at the edge of his vision:
[44 EXP Gained]
The notification was simple, almost mechanical, but the weight behind it wasn't. A life steadied, even if just for a little longer.
He hadn't taken two steps when a calloused hand touched his back. Turning, he found himself face-to-face with the refugee hunter—a man with sun-browned skin and a scar running down his cheek. His grip was firm, his voice rough but earnest.
"Thank you," he said. "The rams you brought back—that meat's kept a lot of us from going hungry."
Daniel remembered the hunt—the crisp mountain air, the careful tracking, the clean kill. It had been a small thing, just another task in the endless list of things the Inquisition needed, but here, now, it mattered.
His interface pulsed again:
[177 EXP Gained]
Then, another message, brighter this time:
[Level Up!]
[1 Skill Point Available]
The hunter gave him a nod before slipping back into the crowd, leaving Daniel standing there, the hum of camp life around him. He exhaled, rolling his shoulders, and pulled up his skill tree. The branching paths of abilities glowed faintly in his mind's eye—each one a tool, a weapon, a way to survive what was coming.
He focused on the Storm section, the crackling energy of lightning and raw power humming beneath his fingertips even now. There, nestled among the options, was Energy Barrage—a salvo of elemental blasts, homing in on targets with deadly precision. Twelve projectiles, sixty-six percent damage per hit. A storm given form.
He selected it without hesitation.
The knowledge settled into his bones like a spark catching kindling. He could almost feel the magic coiled inside him, waiting to be unleashed. A sharp breath, and he dismissed the interface, grounding himself back in the moment.
The sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention. Recruit Whittle—a young man with a perpetually harried expression—hurried over, his cheeks flushed from the cold. Daniel said "Whittle! We found the supplies you sent us after—the apostates' stash. It's all on the carriage now."
Whittle who hear it nodded and sakd. "Good work sir! That'll keep the refugees fed for a while longer."
Daniel grinned. "Glad to help, Whittle."
Another flicker of his interface:
[177 EXP Gained]
The notifications were stacking up, but the real reward was in the way Whittle stood a little taller, the way the refugees' shoulders didn't seem quite as hunched under their burdens. Small steps, but steps forward all the same.
As night settled over the Crossroads, the camp took on a different rhythm. Fires were banked, voices lowered, the wounded tended to in hushed tones. Daniel moved among them, checking in where he could, listening where he couldn't help.
Near the chantry steps, Mother Giselle stood in quiet conversation with Cassandra, their faces illuminated by the flickering torchlight. Varric had claimed a spot by the fire, Bianca propped beside him as he scribbled in that damned notebook of his. Solas was nowhere to be seen—likely off studying the Fade-touched iron or some other curiosity.
Daniel found a quiet corner to sit, his staff resting against his knee. The day's events played behind his eyes—the rogue mages' desperate attack, the supplies secured, the lives touched in ways big and small.
A child—no older than six—darted past, clutching a scrap of bread like it was treasure. She skidded to a halt when she saw him, her wide eyes taking in his staff, his armor, the mark on his hand.
"You're the Herald," she whispered, half in awe, half in fear.
Daniel sighed inwardly. That name. That title. It sat on his shoulders like a weight he hadn't asked for. But the girl was waiting, so he mustered a small smile. "Just Daniel."
She blinked, then grinned, suddenly bold. "My ma says you're gonna close the big hole in the sky."
"That's the plan."
She nodded solemnly, as if they'd just agreed on something very important, then scampered off into the dark.
Daniel leaned back, staring up at the Breach—that terrible, glowing wound in the heavens. It pulsed faintly, a reminder of everything at stake.
But down here, in the dirt and the smoke and the stubborn resilience of people refusing to break, there were smaller battles being won. Potions given. Food shared. Lives steadied, one act at a time.
And for now, that was enough.
The next morning brought frost and pale sunlight. The Inquisition forces readied to move out, their destination still the Hinterlands' many scattered fires—templars, mages, rifts, refugees. The work never ended.
________________________________________________
Name : Daniel Carter
Race: Elf
Level 4 : 251/1500 E
Professions: Mage
Gold Coins: 1309 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, Qunari Battleaxe, Amulet of Magic, Raider Hatchet, Disciple Fire Staff, Amulet of Willpower, Apprentice Mail, Qunari Buckler, Medium Adventure Armor, and Mindleech Staff
Crafting Materials: 31 Elfroot, 50 Iron, 2 Blue Vitriol, 1 Dawn Lotus, 11 Silk, 6 Lambswool, 1 Royal Elfroot, 10 Ram Leather, 23 Drakestone, 3 Fire Essence, 3 Blue Vitriol, 3 Canine Leather, 4 Plaidewaive, 1 Frost Essence, and 1 Fade-Touched Iron
Valuables: 3 Aquamarine, Silver Bracelet, 2 Figurine of Maferath the Betrayer, 2 Shadow Essence,
Gurn Gallstone Charm, Braid of Rank, Glass Halla, 1 Weapon Fragment, 2 Silver Necklace, 1 Ram Horn, 1 Bride's Blood Vial, 1 Silk Handerchief, 1 Glass Fox, 1 Silver Earring, 1 Dreamer Rag, 1 Miniature Throne and 1 Weapon Fragment
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,
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