These bandits were better than most of those she'd killed over the years.
Khari had received her training in very practical circumstances. There was little standing around in a ring practicing forms or beating on straw dummies. She'd learned from the very beginning how to stay alive in a thick melee situation like this one, and from there learned how to actively participate. Nearly every assessment had carried with it a real chance that her life would end, as Ser Durand's troop met with bandits or slavers or highwaymen and clashed. A single knight, a handful of commoners, and one little elf girl, against whatever band of criminals thought they were lucky that day. It was just as well she'd always been pretty good at this, because otherwise she'd be six feet underground.
A broad, horizontal stroke with Intercessor gave her a little more breathing room, forcing the three bandits she was juggling to jump back or get cut. Their numbers were gradually wearing down, but the chevaliers had taken a few causalities by this point as well—men and women either dead or too injured to pick themselves up off the ground. The rest were closing ranks, forming into a tight knot of fighters and weathering the assault from a defensive position just inside the gate.
Something glinted in the corner of her eye—one of the bandits had flanked her and was looking to slide a knife into a joint in her armor. He didn't get the chance; a longsword erupted from his chest, and with a mighty heave, Ser Durand tossed him off the blade, scowling. There was blood in his silver hair, dripping down his forehead, but he didn't pay it any more heed than Khari gave to her own wounds.
She grinned at him underneath her mask, the expression almost feral with the Haze still thrumming at a low pitch through her body. “Thanks."
He grunted—she had the sense that in any other situation, he'd have rolled his eyes at her. "Get back to work, Little Bear. You can thank me later."
Khari saw no reason to object, and lunged for the next bandit.
Nearby, Estella was also slightly apart from the chevaliers' line. Most likely because her fighting style, like Khari's, relied a great deal on being quick and mobile. She bled freely from a gash on her arm, but if it was slowing her down, she wasn't giving any sign of that. She kept her strokes quick, short, and efficient.
An axe came in from overhead; Estella blocked with both hands on her saber, but did not draw out the contest of strength, instead deflecting the weapon to the side and stepping in, drawing the knife from her back with the hand she'd removed from her sword and dragging it in a short, deep line across the bandit's neck, opening up the vital artery there and pushing him over with a knee. Her next block was awkward as another bandit stepped up to take his place—her guard broke, and she was forced to scramble backwards. Narrowly avoiding a devastating blow to the head with the second bandit's mace, she sidestepped the follow-up and kicked at the back of his knees, staggering him for just long enough to open up his belly with the saber. With a cry, he fell, clutching his abdomen. She went down with him, thrusting the knife up under his chin, killing him before the loss of his innards could gradually accomplish the same.
A shimmering barrier flew up beside her, a dull clank echoing as a result. A bandit's sword rebounded harmlessly off it. He clutched at his wrist as no doubt the sudden impact jarred the small bones in there. There was no time to recover from the relatively minor setback, as the shield flew forward and shrunk in size until it collided with his helmet, sending out an audible ring even over the din of battle. His head snapped backward as he dropped the sword and fell hard to the ground. He still drew breath, but he no longer moved.
Asala stood in the center rank of the knot of combatants, safe enough from the prying arms and armor of the bandits. Fluttering lights of blue danced around them, appearing for a moment to shield a chevalier from a wayward blow, to throw disorder into the ranks of the bandits, or on some occasions, putting a bandit out of the fight herself with a hard knock to the head.
Seeing how long-ranged combat was no longer feasible in the more congested areas of battle, Zahra had loosed the remainder of her arrows, pinning errant kneecaps and shoulders before tossing her bow aside, and drawing out her thin rapier. She was by no means as agile and quick to parry as Marceline was, though she’d managed not to impale herself on any incoming blades. Hers were feral, clumsy things. Wild sweeping motions that left openings, which she barely closed by continuing to barrel forward. Effectively tossing herself close enough that they couldn’t swing their arms even if they’d wanted to.
She bared a gash across her midsection where a sword had sliced through her leathers. An attack she’d been to slow to dance away from. Her palms and fingers were red as well. Possibly because she’d slicked it across the cut, in an attempt to stem the flow. It painted her thigh and dripped on the ground as she swept an axe away. It glanced off her blade, twirled off its end before she went full-circle and punctured it through his eye. He didn’t have the time to make a noise, as Zahra kicked him off her blade, toppling him backwards in a heap.
The tide of the battle was turning in their favor. Khari could sense it in a way that was different from simply counting heads or estimating casualties. Some kind of instinct, maybe—she'd never bothered thinking too hard about fighting. It worked better when she just let herself feel it instead.
But the bandits were falling underfoot, the chevaliers and their allies fighting for every step forward, but advancing steadily towards the keep doors. She hadn't spotted Rom in a while, but there wasn't much time to be worried about that. Khari knew he knew how to look after himself; he'd be fine. In the meantime, they had to—
"Stop!"
The shout was loud enough to carry all the way over the din. Perhaps that was why the group couldn't help but obey it, at least for long enough to figure out where it was coming from. That much didn't take long: a smaller group of bandits was emerging from the front entrance to the keep, and they weren't alone.
A woman—almost certainly Halfhand—led them. Immediately to her right, a massive man in full plate half-dragged another person, a tall woman with dirty golden hair. She wore no armor, but the crest on her scarlet tunic was the one belonging to the chevalier order—a yellow feather, crossed with a sword.
"Lili." Khari was close enough to hear Violette speak. Apparently, the blonde woman was indeed her sister.
But she was clearly not the only hostage here; three more bandits led prisoners out of the keep; they dutifully lined up behind Halfhand, holding blades of varying sizes to the unprotected throats of their captives.
The bandit leader herself was neither especially tall nor intimidating, as far as appearances went. Short-cropped brown hair, a middling build, and dark clothing and armor. She'd evidently been named for the fact that she was missing three of the fingers on her left hand; her right held a marine-style hatchet in a relaxed grip.
At once, the bandits disengaged with the chevaliers, stepping back to form a barrier between Halfhand and the invaders. The chevaliers looked to Violette for orders, though Halfhand continued before there was time to give any.
"I have your men. All of them. And unless you lower your weapons right now, these four are going to be the first to die. Your choice, chevalier dogs."
Violette visibly hesitated; the expression on her face was a clear blend of rage and fear. The fear, presumably, was for her sister and her soldiers. Her grip tightened on her sword; even not in use, little tongues of flame licked over its surface.
"Don't," Liliane rasped, voice hoarse and nearly unusable, from the sound of it. Her captor's hold on her tightened; the shortsword he pressed into her neck drew a line of blood.
"Disarm." For better or worse, that seemed to have decided the matter for Violette. With a look of disgust briefly flickering over he face, she tossed her hand-and-a-half to the ground, the enchanted fire guttering out. Those under her command followed suit. After a moment of indecision, Estella did as well. On the other hand, it seemed to be a simple decision for Asala, whose staff fell to the ground a moment after Violette's sword. Zahra made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat before tossing hers alongside Asala’s staff.
Khari hated the idea of dropping her sword in a situation like this, but she could understand why Violette had decided the way she did. With a sneer, she threw Intercessor to the ground.
"Very good." Halfhand's tone was condescending in the extreme. "Jean-Robert, are there any mages in the lot?" The bandit leader's eyes flicked to Ser Durand. As if he were actually going to—
"Just the Qunari."
Wait.
What?
Khari swung around to face him. Ser Durand hadn't bothered to disarm, nor had Brick or Fermin or any of the others in his group. None of them would make eye contact with her. Khari felt an uncomfortable lurch in her chest. But... but surely... surely there was some explanation she could not see. Some reason she did not have, an explanation that would make this make sense.
Ser Durand himself glanced at her, holding her eyes with his own. His expression was unreadable, the same grim mask he wore whenever he fought. He crossed his arms over his chest, maintaining their stalemate even while Halfhand gave him an answer.
"Arrows on that one then, please." A slight rustle almost drew Khari's attention away. Probably there were archers on the rooftops, too. She couldn't be bothered to care about that just now.
“...Big Bear?" She hoped her mask could conceal the way her lower lip trembled, but there was no mistaking the unnatural brightness to her eyes. “What's... what's happening? Why would you tell her that?"
Ser Durand pushed a heavy breath out of his nose. "You wouldn't understand." Dropping his eyes away, he gestured to his men to follow him. The line of bandits adjusted to let them through.
Halfhand was still talking. The words registered with Khari only dimly, but she did get the general idea. "Now... as you can see, your situation is not quite what you believed it was. There's only one way you get out of this alive, and that's if you do exactly what I tell you."
If facial expression was anything to go by, Violette was nearly apoplectic with fury. Her voice, however, came out tightly-controlled, sharp, and hard as the steel her armor was made of. "What in the Maker's name do you want, bandit? Why go to all this trouble to kidnap an entire squad of chevaliers? Hostages may stop us, but they will not stop the Lord-General. You're only putting yourself in the sights of people you won't be able to handle."
The chevalier showed considerable discipline, as the end of her question was uninterrupted by the surprising appearance Rom then made, emerging from the main building behind the assorted bandits. Everyone among the Inquisition and the chevaliers were able to see him coming, silently and swiftly, while several prisoners took up positions in the doorways with bows. They looked terrible, starving and ragged, but they were capable at least of drawing back the bowstrings and taking careful aim.
Rom went right for the heavily armored man on Halfhand's right, his knife stabbing deep into the back of his right leg through the gap in the plate, while his marked hand reached to grab his arm, pulling the blade away from Liliane's throat. Involuntarily he lurched forward and pushed the captured chevalier away from him as he went down, and Rom immediately went for the killing stab to his throat.
As soon as he'd made his presence known, the archers behind him loosed their arrows on the other bandits holding captives, arrows striking their upper backs and offering the prisoners opportunities to make a move. "Fight!" Rom roared, and immediately the chaos resumed, with a bandit instantly turning on the threat. He barely managed to get his shield in the way of the man's mace, the swift blow forcing him back a few steps. He was obviously tired; whatever he'd done to free the prisoners had taken a lot out of him.
Liliane staggered forward, free of her captor. Halfhand reacted immediately, swinging the hatchet in her hand wildly and hurling it with an enraged shout. "You will not get the better of me again!"
The weapon landed squarely in Liliane's chest, felling her mere moments after she'd been freed.
The move, effective as far as it went, also left the bandit leader wide open and weaponless. If Khari had been confused before, the feeling only redoubled when Ser Durand was the one to take advantage, plunging his sword into her abdomen from behind, just to the left of her spine. He whistled sharply, and a good half of the archers on the roof shifted their positions, loosing their nocked arrows at the rest. The ones on the ground were still aiming at Asala, however, and they released their shots as well.
The fade was in Asala's hands when the chaos ensued. However, she winced as she proved too slow to erect a barrier in time to protect Liliane, but apparently she kept the others in mind in spite of the danger to herself. The fade in her hand intensified and spread to her other, as a large luminescent dome encased not just her, but the small group of fighters just as the arrows were let loose. They did not travel very far before clattering uselessly against the barrier. When the last fell harmlessly to the ground, the shield vanished, allow the chevaliers free range once more.
Though it had been bought at great cost, the chevaliers seized their opportunity. In a showing of extreme self-discipline, Violette found the wherewithal to pick up her sword from the ground and lead the charge, crashing into the breaking bandit line. The renewed assault, and the fact that Durand's men were hewing the bandits down from behind, meant that the force was shattering quickly.
One by one, the bandits fell, until none moved anymore. Khari, breathing heavily, kept her sword uncertainly at her side, surveying the damage. In addition to Liliane, one of the other hostages and about three members of the invading force they'd entered with were almost certainly dead. Half a dozen more were heavily injured, though for once she herself was not among them.
It would have been almost clean, were it not for the thing she was trying to avoid thinking about. But she'd never been one to run away from a fight; she didn't see why it had to change because the type of fight was different. So she swallowed back the increasingly-bitter taste of bile in her throat, and pointed Intercessor at Ser Durand. The tip of the blade shook visibly. She took a deep, slow breath through her nose, trying to steady herself.
“Explain."
His expression was no longer so difficult to read; it had softened a great deal. But he shook his head. "You were only in the wrong place at the wrong time, Little Bear. It does not matter now." He turned to Rom, then. "Arrest me, Inquisitor. I'm sure the men you found inside have given you plenty of reason to do it. But know that my men only followed me."
Rom nodded, breathing heavily and glancing at those that hadn't been able to make it out of the fight alive. "They said you're the reason anyone was captured to begin with." He didn't look like he understood much more than Khari did, though. "Drop your weapons, all of you." He looked to Khari. "We'll figure this out, I swear... but not here." For those that had already lost friends or family, though, there would likely be no resolution. "I'm sorry, Ser Violette."
The captain was kneeling beside her sister, gingerly taking Liliane into her arms before standing. Considering that the latter was the taller of the two, it was a little difficult for her, but her strength compensated. At Rom's words, she glanced over at him, inclining her head slightly. "Thank you, Lord Inquisitor. We will... we will take care of things here, and then return to Val Royeaux. Your assistance has been appreciated." She closed her eyes for a long moment, swallowing thickly, and then turned away, carrying her sister away from the scene.
Khari replaced her sword at her back. There was a spreading numbness in her chest, one that left her feeling exhausted, as though somehow this fight had taken much ore out of her physically than they usually did. She knew that for a falsehood, but it didn't change the feeling.
Maybe she'd get some answers when they returned to Skyhold.
She wasn't sure she wanted them.
Khari had received her training in very practical circumstances. There was little standing around in a ring practicing forms or beating on straw dummies. She'd learned from the very beginning how to stay alive in a thick melee situation like this one, and from there learned how to actively participate. Nearly every assessment had carried with it a real chance that her life would end, as Ser Durand's troop met with bandits or slavers or highwaymen and clashed. A single knight, a handful of commoners, and one little elf girl, against whatever band of criminals thought they were lucky that day. It was just as well she'd always been pretty good at this, because otherwise she'd be six feet underground.
A broad, horizontal stroke with Intercessor gave her a little more breathing room, forcing the three bandits she was juggling to jump back or get cut. Their numbers were gradually wearing down, but the chevaliers had taken a few causalities by this point as well—men and women either dead or too injured to pick themselves up off the ground. The rest were closing ranks, forming into a tight knot of fighters and weathering the assault from a defensive position just inside the gate.
Something glinted in the corner of her eye—one of the bandits had flanked her and was looking to slide a knife into a joint in her armor. He didn't get the chance; a longsword erupted from his chest, and with a mighty heave, Ser Durand tossed him off the blade, scowling. There was blood in his silver hair, dripping down his forehead, but he didn't pay it any more heed than Khari gave to her own wounds.
She grinned at him underneath her mask, the expression almost feral with the Haze still thrumming at a low pitch through her body. “Thanks."
He grunted—she had the sense that in any other situation, he'd have rolled his eyes at her. "Get back to work, Little Bear. You can thank me later."
Khari saw no reason to object, and lunged for the next bandit.
Nearby, Estella was also slightly apart from the chevaliers' line. Most likely because her fighting style, like Khari's, relied a great deal on being quick and mobile. She bled freely from a gash on her arm, but if it was slowing her down, she wasn't giving any sign of that. She kept her strokes quick, short, and efficient.
An axe came in from overhead; Estella blocked with both hands on her saber, but did not draw out the contest of strength, instead deflecting the weapon to the side and stepping in, drawing the knife from her back with the hand she'd removed from her sword and dragging it in a short, deep line across the bandit's neck, opening up the vital artery there and pushing him over with a knee. Her next block was awkward as another bandit stepped up to take his place—her guard broke, and she was forced to scramble backwards. Narrowly avoiding a devastating blow to the head with the second bandit's mace, she sidestepped the follow-up and kicked at the back of his knees, staggering him for just long enough to open up his belly with the saber. With a cry, he fell, clutching his abdomen. She went down with him, thrusting the knife up under his chin, killing him before the loss of his innards could gradually accomplish the same.
A shimmering barrier flew up beside her, a dull clank echoing as a result. A bandit's sword rebounded harmlessly off it. He clutched at his wrist as no doubt the sudden impact jarred the small bones in there. There was no time to recover from the relatively minor setback, as the shield flew forward and shrunk in size until it collided with his helmet, sending out an audible ring even over the din of battle. His head snapped backward as he dropped the sword and fell hard to the ground. He still drew breath, but he no longer moved.
Asala stood in the center rank of the knot of combatants, safe enough from the prying arms and armor of the bandits. Fluttering lights of blue danced around them, appearing for a moment to shield a chevalier from a wayward blow, to throw disorder into the ranks of the bandits, or on some occasions, putting a bandit out of the fight herself with a hard knock to the head.
Seeing how long-ranged combat was no longer feasible in the more congested areas of battle, Zahra had loosed the remainder of her arrows, pinning errant kneecaps and shoulders before tossing her bow aside, and drawing out her thin rapier. She was by no means as agile and quick to parry as Marceline was, though she’d managed not to impale herself on any incoming blades. Hers were feral, clumsy things. Wild sweeping motions that left openings, which she barely closed by continuing to barrel forward. Effectively tossing herself close enough that they couldn’t swing their arms even if they’d wanted to.
She bared a gash across her midsection where a sword had sliced through her leathers. An attack she’d been to slow to dance away from. Her palms and fingers were red as well. Possibly because she’d slicked it across the cut, in an attempt to stem the flow. It painted her thigh and dripped on the ground as she swept an axe away. It glanced off her blade, twirled off its end before she went full-circle and punctured it through his eye. He didn’t have the time to make a noise, as Zahra kicked him off her blade, toppling him backwards in a heap.
The tide of the battle was turning in their favor. Khari could sense it in a way that was different from simply counting heads or estimating casualties. Some kind of instinct, maybe—she'd never bothered thinking too hard about fighting. It worked better when she just let herself feel it instead.
But the bandits were falling underfoot, the chevaliers and their allies fighting for every step forward, but advancing steadily towards the keep doors. She hadn't spotted Rom in a while, but there wasn't much time to be worried about that. Khari knew he knew how to look after himself; he'd be fine. In the meantime, they had to—
"Stop!"
The shout was loud enough to carry all the way over the din. Perhaps that was why the group couldn't help but obey it, at least for long enough to figure out where it was coming from. That much didn't take long: a smaller group of bandits was emerging from the front entrance to the keep, and they weren't alone.
A woman—almost certainly Halfhand—led them. Immediately to her right, a massive man in full plate half-dragged another person, a tall woman with dirty golden hair. She wore no armor, but the crest on her scarlet tunic was the one belonging to the chevalier order—a yellow feather, crossed with a sword.
"Lili." Khari was close enough to hear Violette speak. Apparently, the blonde woman was indeed her sister.
But she was clearly not the only hostage here; three more bandits led prisoners out of the keep; they dutifully lined up behind Halfhand, holding blades of varying sizes to the unprotected throats of their captives.
The bandit leader herself was neither especially tall nor intimidating, as far as appearances went. Short-cropped brown hair, a middling build, and dark clothing and armor. She'd evidently been named for the fact that she was missing three of the fingers on her left hand; her right held a marine-style hatchet in a relaxed grip.
At once, the bandits disengaged with the chevaliers, stepping back to form a barrier between Halfhand and the invaders. The chevaliers looked to Violette for orders, though Halfhand continued before there was time to give any.
"I have your men. All of them. And unless you lower your weapons right now, these four are going to be the first to die. Your choice, chevalier dogs."
Violette visibly hesitated; the expression on her face was a clear blend of rage and fear. The fear, presumably, was for her sister and her soldiers. Her grip tightened on her sword; even not in use, little tongues of flame licked over its surface.
"Don't," Liliane rasped, voice hoarse and nearly unusable, from the sound of it. Her captor's hold on her tightened; the shortsword he pressed into her neck drew a line of blood.
"Disarm." For better or worse, that seemed to have decided the matter for Violette. With a look of disgust briefly flickering over he face, she tossed her hand-and-a-half to the ground, the enchanted fire guttering out. Those under her command followed suit. After a moment of indecision, Estella did as well. On the other hand, it seemed to be a simple decision for Asala, whose staff fell to the ground a moment after Violette's sword. Zahra made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat before tossing hers alongside Asala’s staff.
Khari hated the idea of dropping her sword in a situation like this, but she could understand why Violette had decided the way she did. With a sneer, she threw Intercessor to the ground.
"Very good." Halfhand's tone was condescending in the extreme. "Jean-Robert, are there any mages in the lot?" The bandit leader's eyes flicked to Ser Durand. As if he were actually going to—
"Just the Qunari."
Wait.
What?
Khari swung around to face him. Ser Durand hadn't bothered to disarm, nor had Brick or Fermin or any of the others in his group. None of them would make eye contact with her. Khari felt an uncomfortable lurch in her chest. But... but surely... surely there was some explanation she could not see. Some reason she did not have, an explanation that would make this make sense.
Ser Durand himself glanced at her, holding her eyes with his own. His expression was unreadable, the same grim mask he wore whenever he fought. He crossed his arms over his chest, maintaining their stalemate even while Halfhand gave him an answer.
"Arrows on that one then, please." A slight rustle almost drew Khari's attention away. Probably there were archers on the rooftops, too. She couldn't be bothered to care about that just now.
“...Big Bear?" She hoped her mask could conceal the way her lower lip trembled, but there was no mistaking the unnatural brightness to her eyes. “What's... what's happening? Why would you tell her that?"
Ser Durand pushed a heavy breath out of his nose. "You wouldn't understand." Dropping his eyes away, he gestured to his men to follow him. The line of bandits adjusted to let them through.
Halfhand was still talking. The words registered with Khari only dimly, but she did get the general idea. "Now... as you can see, your situation is not quite what you believed it was. There's only one way you get out of this alive, and that's if you do exactly what I tell you."
If facial expression was anything to go by, Violette was nearly apoplectic with fury. Her voice, however, came out tightly-controlled, sharp, and hard as the steel her armor was made of. "What in the Maker's name do you want, bandit? Why go to all this trouble to kidnap an entire squad of chevaliers? Hostages may stop us, but they will not stop the Lord-General. You're only putting yourself in the sights of people you won't be able to handle."
The chevalier showed considerable discipline, as the end of her question was uninterrupted by the surprising appearance Rom then made, emerging from the main building behind the assorted bandits. Everyone among the Inquisition and the chevaliers were able to see him coming, silently and swiftly, while several prisoners took up positions in the doorways with bows. They looked terrible, starving and ragged, but they were capable at least of drawing back the bowstrings and taking careful aim.
Rom went right for the heavily armored man on Halfhand's right, his knife stabbing deep into the back of his right leg through the gap in the plate, while his marked hand reached to grab his arm, pulling the blade away from Liliane's throat. Involuntarily he lurched forward and pushed the captured chevalier away from him as he went down, and Rom immediately went for the killing stab to his throat.
As soon as he'd made his presence known, the archers behind him loosed their arrows on the other bandits holding captives, arrows striking their upper backs and offering the prisoners opportunities to make a move. "Fight!" Rom roared, and immediately the chaos resumed, with a bandit instantly turning on the threat. He barely managed to get his shield in the way of the man's mace, the swift blow forcing him back a few steps. He was obviously tired; whatever he'd done to free the prisoners had taken a lot out of him.
Liliane staggered forward, free of her captor. Halfhand reacted immediately, swinging the hatchet in her hand wildly and hurling it with an enraged shout. "You will not get the better of me again!"
The weapon landed squarely in Liliane's chest, felling her mere moments after she'd been freed.
The move, effective as far as it went, also left the bandit leader wide open and weaponless. If Khari had been confused before, the feeling only redoubled when Ser Durand was the one to take advantage, plunging his sword into her abdomen from behind, just to the left of her spine. He whistled sharply, and a good half of the archers on the roof shifted their positions, loosing their nocked arrows at the rest. The ones on the ground were still aiming at Asala, however, and they released their shots as well.
The fade was in Asala's hands when the chaos ensued. However, she winced as she proved too slow to erect a barrier in time to protect Liliane, but apparently she kept the others in mind in spite of the danger to herself. The fade in her hand intensified and spread to her other, as a large luminescent dome encased not just her, but the small group of fighters just as the arrows were let loose. They did not travel very far before clattering uselessly against the barrier. When the last fell harmlessly to the ground, the shield vanished, allow the chevaliers free range once more.
Though it had been bought at great cost, the chevaliers seized their opportunity. In a showing of extreme self-discipline, Violette found the wherewithal to pick up her sword from the ground and lead the charge, crashing into the breaking bandit line. The renewed assault, and the fact that Durand's men were hewing the bandits down from behind, meant that the force was shattering quickly.
One by one, the bandits fell, until none moved anymore. Khari, breathing heavily, kept her sword uncertainly at her side, surveying the damage. In addition to Liliane, one of the other hostages and about three members of the invading force they'd entered with were almost certainly dead. Half a dozen more were heavily injured, though for once she herself was not among them.
It would have been almost clean, were it not for the thing she was trying to avoid thinking about. But she'd never been one to run away from a fight; she didn't see why it had to change because the type of fight was different. So she swallowed back the increasingly-bitter taste of bile in her throat, and pointed Intercessor at Ser Durand. The tip of the blade shook visibly. She took a deep, slow breath through her nose, trying to steady herself.
“Explain."
His expression was no longer so difficult to read; it had softened a great deal. But he shook his head. "You were only in the wrong place at the wrong time, Little Bear. It does not matter now." He turned to Rom, then. "Arrest me, Inquisitor. I'm sure the men you found inside have given you plenty of reason to do it. But know that my men only followed me."
Rom nodded, breathing heavily and glancing at those that hadn't been able to make it out of the fight alive. "They said you're the reason anyone was captured to begin with." He didn't look like he understood much more than Khari did, though. "Drop your weapons, all of you." He looked to Khari. "We'll figure this out, I swear... but not here." For those that had already lost friends or family, though, there would likely be no resolution. "I'm sorry, Ser Violette."
The captain was kneeling beside her sister, gingerly taking Liliane into her arms before standing. Considering that the latter was the taller of the two, it was a little difficult for her, but her strength compensated. At Rom's words, she glanced over at him, inclining her head slightly. "Thank you, Lord Inquisitor. We will... we will take care of things here, and then return to Val Royeaux. Your assistance has been appreciated." She closed her eyes for a long moment, swallowing thickly, and then turned away, carrying her sister away from the scene.
Khari replaced her sword at her back. There was a spreading numbness in her chest, one that left her feeling exhausted, as though somehow this fight had taken much ore out of her physically than they usually did. She knew that for a falsehood, but it didn't change the feeling.
Maybe she'd get some answers when they returned to Skyhold.
She wasn't sure she wanted them.