Séverine had never been too fond of the cold, but in this case it was good to be back.
Northern Orlais had been a comfortable place to grow up, and in Kirkwall it only snowed occasionally in the winters. Here in the Frostbacks it was spring, but still a lazy snowfall speckled the multiple braids of her dark hair with white. Her horse's breath still wafted out in visible clouds on the morning air. Despite that it seemed brighter than usual. The snow would melt soon after it had fallen, and warmth would return to Skyhold once more.
It was almost starting to feel like home. Séverine wasn't sure how to feel about that. Where her loyalties were supposed to lie, first and foremost. Kirkwall was supposed to be her home, she felt in her heart, as it was the place where she'd been reborn, so to speak. The place where she'd turned away from a path she finally saw to be self-destructive, and remade herself into something that would serve the Templar Order and the people it protected, not the whims of a woman made paranoid by her own personal loss.
But it was only after she'd left Knight-Commander Cullen and the Gallows behind that she felt she truly began to come into her own. Therinfal had been a revelation, an opportunity to lead more than just a few templars. And though difficulties had followed at Skyhold, she continued to find success, with the proper guidance and help from the many talented individuals Leon could call upon.
Three of those individuals rode close behind Séverine, along with the rest of the combined templar and scout forces that had been deployed in the Emerald Graves since the Inquisition's original excursion to the region. Their progress had been somewhat slowed by a few severely wounded templars, but all of them were expected to pull through, something Séverine had not expected to be able to say when she set out. The news was not all good, of course, but on the whole the spirits of her templars were high. The Red Templars could be crushed like any other enemy, given the right circumstances, and they had proven it.
It wouldn't have been possible without the help in planning from the two wanderers they'd picked up in the Graves, Amalia and Ithilian, the latter of which was apparently their scout captain's father. Séverine didn't see the resemblance. They were supremely skilled at what they did, though, and helped them gather all the necessary information they'd need to plan an effective ambush with overwhelming force, separating the Reds from their hostages before they could react and picking them off one by one.
"Looks like we made it," she announced, once the bridge to Skyhold finally came into view. She looked back to Ithilian and Amalia. "Thank you again for the work you've done. I don't doubt many of my templars are still alive because of it. I won't forget that." One of the first things she'd noted about them was how guarded they were, around pretty much everyone besides Lia. Trust wasn't something they gave easily, it was plain to see, especially not trust of a templar. But at least on Séverine's end of things, they'd earned hers.
"No doubt many of them are also still alive because of you." One of the few things Amalia had made obvious about herself was the fact that she had an inherent sense of fairness, and tended always to give credit where she believed it was due. Though she never sounded complimentary about anything, exactly, just quite matter-of-fact. That was how this came across as well. "We will not forget, either."
It was hardly an indication of trust, though she didn't seem to have had any difficulty interpreting Séverine's words for what they were. But there was a hint of respect in there, and that was far from nothing. With a short nod, Amalia returned her attention to the bridge crossing.
Soon they had made their way across it and through the fortress gates, the horses breathing somewhat heavily from the long climb at the end of the journey. There weren't really any farewells to be said, as they were all living in the same place, though Séverine wasn't sure either Ithilian or Amalia would have reason to visit her, or wish to do so. Not the easiest pair to make friends with. Ithilian's daughter was another matter, but even she seemed naturally a little more guarded around templars of any kind. Understandable, for an elf that grew up in Kirkwall. Séverine knew that better than most.
The wounded were directed to the infirmary. Séverine hoped Asala and the others would be ready to receive them. None were in real danger of perishing anymore, but that didn't mean the danger had passed. There was a chance one of them might never walk again, and another had severely injured her sword arm. Both were injuries that could easily prevent them from carrying out their duties as a templar, and force them down another path they might not want.
Those that were healthy were allowed freedom for the day to rest, which had been well earned. Séverine paused to watch them file in, dismounting from her horse and handing it off to one of the stablehands. She remained to observe and salute back when saluted, which more than a few of the lower ranking templars did. No few of them were bruised and filthy, heads wrapped or arms carried in slings, but she couldn't find a one of them that looked unhappy with where they were at. It was enough to bring a smile to her face.
"Séverine." The voice was familiar, though it did not belong to any of her troops. Rather, Leon seemed to have found his way to them—rather swiftly, for the short time they'd been back in Skyhold. He seemed to have omitted her title, clearly an accident, from the way he corrected himself immediately afterwards. "Captain. Good to see you." That much at least was undoubtedly genuine.
Leon too received more than a few salutes, which he returned in kind. Whatever distinction had once existed between Seekers and Templars was not particularly operative here. No one even called him one; it was fully possible that at least some of her people didn't even know. "Everyone made it back in one piece, then? I know you mentioned some severe injuries, so I had the infirmary on standby to receive them."
"Commander," she greeted back. "Thanks for that. Might make the difference between cripples and fighting templars for a few of them." Her expression sobered at the thought. "And we're in dangerous times now. Need every last templar we can get." To beat the Reds, and for the Order to survive at all. It was an uncomfortable amount of pressure to think that her band of templars were one of the two remaining bastions of the Order in all of the south. Tevinter had their own, of course, but Séverine was hardly willing to call them templars at all. The other group was Cullen's, and Séverine would always feel that they were in more stable hands, no matter how many successes she had here.
"Should we head back?" she asked. "I could use a chair and something warm to drink, honestly." And then a bath. She was fairly caked in remnants of dirt and grime, and certainly not looking her best. They'd marched at speed, after all, for the sake of the wounded that they carried.
"I think that can be arranged." Leon looked briefly worried himself, but it faded from his face quickly. He led the way out of the stable, pausing only once on the way to flag down one of the staff and ask for a two meals and something to drink to be brought to his office. "Hope you don't mind a bit of business with your food," he remarked, his tone conciliatory. "I suspect there's a lot to catch up on from both sides here." From the wry shake of his head, he considered it quite an understatement.
When they reached the Commander's tower, Reed opened the door for them both, adding a brief "welcome back, Captain," before closing it again behind them.
"Feel free to shuck the shell," Leon said, moving a few pieces of furniture around to make it easier to eat and talk at the same time. The food was almost certainly on its way up from the kitchens already. "Very little is quite as uncomfortable as trying to relax in armor that needs a cleaning. I certainly don't mean to make you try."
She laughed at that. "I've been guilty of making my men try it on occasion. But thanks, I'll take you up on that." She set down her shield face up on the end of a couch. The metal had some fresh scrapes, dents, and even one new puncture where a Shadow had almost pierced her side. Here it provided a surface to put her coiled up flail and the rest of her armor on, to avoid spreading much dirt on the rest of the furniture. Old habits her mother had driven into her, with the palm of her hand when necessary.
She started with the helmet, then peeled off her gauntlets and gloves to make the rest of the removal easier. "My report's got good news and bad news, but you seem to be in a better mood than I remember before I left, so let's start with yours." She finished unbuckling the straps around her arms that secured her pauldrons in place, shrugging them off and setting them down on the shield when they were free. That left the breastplate next, several of the straps of which on her back were a bit hard to reach. She pulled her trio of braids and the rest of her hair out of the way. "Give me a hand with this?"
"Of course." Leon stepped up behind her, loosening and unfastening the necessary straps and buckles with the same practiced ease all templars had drilled into them from their first day as trainees. He helped her ease it over her head as well, setting it down carefully with the rest. "I think the news is mostly good, yes. As you're doubtless aware, the Inquisition made a journey to Halamshiral while you were away." That much, at least, they'd known they were going to do beforehand.
"It was... quite eventful," he admitted, settling down into one of the chairs and pausing a moment as Reed admitted the kitchen lad bearing their dinner. He set everything in place on the table with a small nod to the both of them, and then departed as quietly as he'd come. As she'd observed on numerous occasions before, the Commander's plate was quite meatless, though the sheer amount of food on it was about what made sense for a person of his dimensions.
He tore the small loaf of bread at the center of the tray in half, a gout of steam and a delightful smell escaping into the air, then set one part of it back down, slicing into the other with his knife and reaching for the butter. "The summary version of events is that both the Empress and Grand Duke Gaspard were more or less planning to kill each other. Once everything came out, Lucien Drakon was named Emperor. Corypheus did in fact have an agent in the mix as well; the Grand Duchess Florianne, who also tried to kill some people. We left her to the Emperor's judgement as well." He shook his head, meeting Séverine's eyes with something approaching amusement.
"I don't know how the Orlesians do it, really. Worst thing that ever happened to my family was a rather persistent rumor that my brother was sleeping with the king. Utterly tame, by comparison."
"It does sound like out of the two of us, you walked into the deadlier situation since last we spoke," she said, grinning. She'd dug into the food while he explained, but the news itself required slowing down to process. "If Gaspard went down, that'll be the worst thing that's happened to my family. Father was quite firmly in his camp. Replaces the embarrassments I brought them getting shipped off to Kirkwall for my bad behavior, at least." She felt vaguely ill at-ease with it, honestly, knowing that her parents were likely more concerned with which butt landed on the throne that how their daughter fared with the Inquisition. But then again, they had other children, and her older brother may well have been involved in the fighting. As far as she was concerned, any end to the war was a good one.
"I'm sure they'll be fine, though." Séverine waved a hand dismissively, preempting any concern. "Really, though, Lucien Drakon is the Emperor now?" She didn't doubt him, but still... she wiped the dumbfounded look off her face quickly as it came, replacing it with a quite unapologetic look of pleasure. "That's brilliant." Anyone that spent long in Kirkwall while Lucien Drakon was there would have heard something of what he'd done for the city. His effects were still being felt there, what with part of the Argent Lions remaining behind. She found herself wishing she'd brought Lia along to help her report. The elf would've loved to hear this news. No doubt she'd get it soon enough, likely from one of her fellow mercenaries.
"I haven't told many people this, but Lucien was actually the one to give me this scar," she pointed to the one cutting up an inch or so from her upper lip. "The pommel of Everburn, right to my mouth."
Leon blinked in obvious surprise, but he had to wait until he was finished with his bite before replying. "Did he? Found yourselves on opposite ends of something in Kirkwall, I take it." Considering what he knew of her history working for Meredith, he'd likely deemed that connection the most likely explanation.
"We did." Séverine unfastened the top two straps across her chest securing her gambeson now that she was starting to warm up fully. "It's probably not that remarkable of a story, but I'm saving it for him. Well, preferably him and the Viscountess, if they should happen to be together next time I meet him." They'd been working together that night, after all, and even if Vesenia had never struck her, she was just as thankful to Her Excellence all the same.
"Anyway, I like to think that not many people can claim they've been smacked by the Emperor of Orlais. Though an Emperor like Lucien has smacked more people than most." Just so happened that most of them didn't live to tell about it. Everburn was a very large sword. "In the Emerald Graves I was just smacked by less interesting people. If they can still be called that."
No few of them seemed more monster than man at this point, warped into their armor and physically distorted until they were barely recognizable as even being human. "The good news I have to report is that we rescued twenty hostages from the Red Templars, we took down one of their staging areas for disguising the red lyrium, and no templars or scouts paid for it with their lives." There had been many close calls, as was always the case in war, but they'd gotten lucky. They had put themselves into the right positions to get lucky.
"That is very good news," Leon agreed readily, dipping his chin in a small nod. "Both in itself and for what it means for our future efforts. I can't imagine it did anything but good for morale, either." The Commander added some thick marmalade jam to the buttered bread on his plate and hummed thoughtfully. "That's excellent—I know you were worried about their sense of purpose."
His lips thinned, brows knitting over his distinctively-colored eyes. "Unfortunately, the Chantry as a whole seems to be struggling with the same. Of all the things that moved into place during our time in Halamshiral, that was not at all one of them. I looked into it before the peace talks." Pausing to chew, he swallowed and elaborated. "There's almost no movement. The Chantry seems to have split deeply along several prominent ideological lines, and the result has become a deadlock. The remaining Grand Clerics can reach no consensus on which among them ought to be Divine." His mouth pulled to the side.
"I'm... not entirely sure that is a bad thing, however. I can't say I have the greatest confidence in any of those I've met, and little reason to believe the ones I haven't are much different." It wasn't a flippant comment, what he said, nor did he seem to be treating sharing that opinion with her lightly. But he did state it simply. Honestly, to all indications.
"The fact that none of them were at the Conclave makes it nearly impossible for any of them to rally much support," Séverine added. "It wasn't meant that way, but it served as a statement of their lack of importance. And when none stand out from the rest, how can any of them be up to the task of repairing the Chantry after all this?" There was no one inspiring, no one capable of rallying the people behind them and restoring the faith that had been so deeply shaken by everything that had happened.
No, they would need a more radical choice this time, in one direction or the other. Séverine had an inkling of an idea what might work, but she wasn't ready to share it yet. Not until she'd thought on it more. The Inquisition had great influence now, after all, given the result at Halamshiral. It was not influence to be tossed around lightly.
"I suppose I should get to the bad news, then." She took a bite of bread, finding that the lighter foods were what was agreeing with her the best at the moment. After she finished, she continued. "The hostages didn't provide us with much. All had varying degrees of sickness from the red lyrium exposure, and clearly the Red Templars have been careful about what they were allowed to see. Most that were in a strong enough state to answer questions said they were taken from small villages in southern Orlais. Shipped in covered wagons, chained to each other and blind. They were left in a dungeon somewhere cold, but in winter that doesn't mean much, and Orlais has a lot of dungeons."
It also implied they weren't the ones working to collect the lyrium, as they'd been in the dungeons the entire time. Their lyrium exposure would've been much worse as well. No, they seemed to have been taken for the exclusive purpose of being used as hostages for transporting the lyrium after it was mined. "The Reds have picked up their operations in the Graves as far as we can tell," she continued. "I like to think we've been giving them too much trouble, but more likely they're just getting ready to make a move elsewhere. A few notes in the hideout we sacked spoke of a new leader, but no mention of a name. I'm not sure they even knew. But it's obvious that when they reappear, it'll mean trouble."
A sigh escaped Leon, ponderously and accompanied by a small shake of his head. "It's certainly not much," he agreed, clearly contemplating the news. Perhaps he was trying to see if there was anything extra he could glean from the same information. In the end, though, that didn't look to be the result. "Still, it's good that we disrupted them even to the extent we did. Without a better idea of their strategy, it's impossible to guess how much it hurt them, but it did something, without doubt."
Damn right it did. "I don't know if they feel much anymore, but I'm pretty sure they still feel fear. If their looks before they met the flail were anything to go by."
It took hours for them to pry all the little shards of their enemies from their weapons and armor after it was all said and done. It was not an experience Séverine was looking forward to repeating. And at the same time, she couldn't wait.
Northern Orlais had been a comfortable place to grow up, and in Kirkwall it only snowed occasionally in the winters. Here in the Frostbacks it was spring, but still a lazy snowfall speckled the multiple braids of her dark hair with white. Her horse's breath still wafted out in visible clouds on the morning air. Despite that it seemed brighter than usual. The snow would melt soon after it had fallen, and warmth would return to Skyhold once more.
It was almost starting to feel like home. Séverine wasn't sure how to feel about that. Where her loyalties were supposed to lie, first and foremost. Kirkwall was supposed to be her home, she felt in her heart, as it was the place where she'd been reborn, so to speak. The place where she'd turned away from a path she finally saw to be self-destructive, and remade herself into something that would serve the Templar Order and the people it protected, not the whims of a woman made paranoid by her own personal loss.
But it was only after she'd left Knight-Commander Cullen and the Gallows behind that she felt she truly began to come into her own. Therinfal had been a revelation, an opportunity to lead more than just a few templars. And though difficulties had followed at Skyhold, she continued to find success, with the proper guidance and help from the many talented individuals Leon could call upon.
Three of those individuals rode close behind Séverine, along with the rest of the combined templar and scout forces that had been deployed in the Emerald Graves since the Inquisition's original excursion to the region. Their progress had been somewhat slowed by a few severely wounded templars, but all of them were expected to pull through, something Séverine had not expected to be able to say when she set out. The news was not all good, of course, but on the whole the spirits of her templars were high. The Red Templars could be crushed like any other enemy, given the right circumstances, and they had proven it.
It wouldn't have been possible without the help in planning from the two wanderers they'd picked up in the Graves, Amalia and Ithilian, the latter of which was apparently their scout captain's father. Séverine didn't see the resemblance. They were supremely skilled at what they did, though, and helped them gather all the necessary information they'd need to plan an effective ambush with overwhelming force, separating the Reds from their hostages before they could react and picking them off one by one.
"Looks like we made it," she announced, once the bridge to Skyhold finally came into view. She looked back to Ithilian and Amalia. "Thank you again for the work you've done. I don't doubt many of my templars are still alive because of it. I won't forget that." One of the first things she'd noted about them was how guarded they were, around pretty much everyone besides Lia. Trust wasn't something they gave easily, it was plain to see, especially not trust of a templar. But at least on Séverine's end of things, they'd earned hers.
"No doubt many of them are also still alive because of you." One of the few things Amalia had made obvious about herself was the fact that she had an inherent sense of fairness, and tended always to give credit where she believed it was due. Though she never sounded complimentary about anything, exactly, just quite matter-of-fact. That was how this came across as well. "We will not forget, either."
It was hardly an indication of trust, though she didn't seem to have had any difficulty interpreting Séverine's words for what they were. But there was a hint of respect in there, and that was far from nothing. With a short nod, Amalia returned her attention to the bridge crossing.
Soon they had made their way across it and through the fortress gates, the horses breathing somewhat heavily from the long climb at the end of the journey. There weren't really any farewells to be said, as they were all living in the same place, though Séverine wasn't sure either Ithilian or Amalia would have reason to visit her, or wish to do so. Not the easiest pair to make friends with. Ithilian's daughter was another matter, but even she seemed naturally a little more guarded around templars of any kind. Understandable, for an elf that grew up in Kirkwall. Séverine knew that better than most.
The wounded were directed to the infirmary. Séverine hoped Asala and the others would be ready to receive them. None were in real danger of perishing anymore, but that didn't mean the danger had passed. There was a chance one of them might never walk again, and another had severely injured her sword arm. Both were injuries that could easily prevent them from carrying out their duties as a templar, and force them down another path they might not want.
Those that were healthy were allowed freedom for the day to rest, which had been well earned. Séverine paused to watch them file in, dismounting from her horse and handing it off to one of the stablehands. She remained to observe and salute back when saluted, which more than a few of the lower ranking templars did. No few of them were bruised and filthy, heads wrapped or arms carried in slings, but she couldn't find a one of them that looked unhappy with where they were at. It was enough to bring a smile to her face.
"Séverine." The voice was familiar, though it did not belong to any of her troops. Rather, Leon seemed to have found his way to them—rather swiftly, for the short time they'd been back in Skyhold. He seemed to have omitted her title, clearly an accident, from the way he corrected himself immediately afterwards. "Captain. Good to see you." That much at least was undoubtedly genuine.
Leon too received more than a few salutes, which he returned in kind. Whatever distinction had once existed between Seekers and Templars was not particularly operative here. No one even called him one; it was fully possible that at least some of her people didn't even know. "Everyone made it back in one piece, then? I know you mentioned some severe injuries, so I had the infirmary on standby to receive them."
"Commander," she greeted back. "Thanks for that. Might make the difference between cripples and fighting templars for a few of them." Her expression sobered at the thought. "And we're in dangerous times now. Need every last templar we can get." To beat the Reds, and for the Order to survive at all. It was an uncomfortable amount of pressure to think that her band of templars were one of the two remaining bastions of the Order in all of the south. Tevinter had their own, of course, but Séverine was hardly willing to call them templars at all. The other group was Cullen's, and Séverine would always feel that they were in more stable hands, no matter how many successes she had here.
"Should we head back?" she asked. "I could use a chair and something warm to drink, honestly." And then a bath. She was fairly caked in remnants of dirt and grime, and certainly not looking her best. They'd marched at speed, after all, for the sake of the wounded that they carried.
"I think that can be arranged." Leon looked briefly worried himself, but it faded from his face quickly. He led the way out of the stable, pausing only once on the way to flag down one of the staff and ask for a two meals and something to drink to be brought to his office. "Hope you don't mind a bit of business with your food," he remarked, his tone conciliatory. "I suspect there's a lot to catch up on from both sides here." From the wry shake of his head, he considered it quite an understatement.
When they reached the Commander's tower, Reed opened the door for them both, adding a brief "welcome back, Captain," before closing it again behind them.
"Feel free to shuck the shell," Leon said, moving a few pieces of furniture around to make it easier to eat and talk at the same time. The food was almost certainly on its way up from the kitchens already. "Very little is quite as uncomfortable as trying to relax in armor that needs a cleaning. I certainly don't mean to make you try."
She laughed at that. "I've been guilty of making my men try it on occasion. But thanks, I'll take you up on that." She set down her shield face up on the end of a couch. The metal had some fresh scrapes, dents, and even one new puncture where a Shadow had almost pierced her side. Here it provided a surface to put her coiled up flail and the rest of her armor on, to avoid spreading much dirt on the rest of the furniture. Old habits her mother had driven into her, with the palm of her hand when necessary.
She started with the helmet, then peeled off her gauntlets and gloves to make the rest of the removal easier. "My report's got good news and bad news, but you seem to be in a better mood than I remember before I left, so let's start with yours." She finished unbuckling the straps around her arms that secured her pauldrons in place, shrugging them off and setting them down on the shield when they were free. That left the breastplate next, several of the straps of which on her back were a bit hard to reach. She pulled her trio of braids and the rest of her hair out of the way. "Give me a hand with this?"
"Of course." Leon stepped up behind her, loosening and unfastening the necessary straps and buckles with the same practiced ease all templars had drilled into them from their first day as trainees. He helped her ease it over her head as well, setting it down carefully with the rest. "I think the news is mostly good, yes. As you're doubtless aware, the Inquisition made a journey to Halamshiral while you were away." That much, at least, they'd known they were going to do beforehand.
"It was... quite eventful," he admitted, settling down into one of the chairs and pausing a moment as Reed admitted the kitchen lad bearing their dinner. He set everything in place on the table with a small nod to the both of them, and then departed as quietly as he'd come. As she'd observed on numerous occasions before, the Commander's plate was quite meatless, though the sheer amount of food on it was about what made sense for a person of his dimensions.
He tore the small loaf of bread at the center of the tray in half, a gout of steam and a delightful smell escaping into the air, then set one part of it back down, slicing into the other with his knife and reaching for the butter. "The summary version of events is that both the Empress and Grand Duke Gaspard were more or less planning to kill each other. Once everything came out, Lucien Drakon was named Emperor. Corypheus did in fact have an agent in the mix as well; the Grand Duchess Florianne, who also tried to kill some people. We left her to the Emperor's judgement as well." He shook his head, meeting Séverine's eyes with something approaching amusement.
"I don't know how the Orlesians do it, really. Worst thing that ever happened to my family was a rather persistent rumor that my brother was sleeping with the king. Utterly tame, by comparison."
"It does sound like out of the two of us, you walked into the deadlier situation since last we spoke," she said, grinning. She'd dug into the food while he explained, but the news itself required slowing down to process. "If Gaspard went down, that'll be the worst thing that's happened to my family. Father was quite firmly in his camp. Replaces the embarrassments I brought them getting shipped off to Kirkwall for my bad behavior, at least." She felt vaguely ill at-ease with it, honestly, knowing that her parents were likely more concerned with which butt landed on the throne that how their daughter fared with the Inquisition. But then again, they had other children, and her older brother may well have been involved in the fighting. As far as she was concerned, any end to the war was a good one.
"I'm sure they'll be fine, though." Séverine waved a hand dismissively, preempting any concern. "Really, though, Lucien Drakon is the Emperor now?" She didn't doubt him, but still... she wiped the dumbfounded look off her face quickly as it came, replacing it with a quite unapologetic look of pleasure. "That's brilliant." Anyone that spent long in Kirkwall while Lucien Drakon was there would have heard something of what he'd done for the city. His effects were still being felt there, what with part of the Argent Lions remaining behind. She found herself wishing she'd brought Lia along to help her report. The elf would've loved to hear this news. No doubt she'd get it soon enough, likely from one of her fellow mercenaries.
"I haven't told many people this, but Lucien was actually the one to give me this scar," she pointed to the one cutting up an inch or so from her upper lip. "The pommel of Everburn, right to my mouth."
Leon blinked in obvious surprise, but he had to wait until he was finished with his bite before replying. "Did he? Found yourselves on opposite ends of something in Kirkwall, I take it." Considering what he knew of her history working for Meredith, he'd likely deemed that connection the most likely explanation.
"We did." Séverine unfastened the top two straps across her chest securing her gambeson now that she was starting to warm up fully. "It's probably not that remarkable of a story, but I'm saving it for him. Well, preferably him and the Viscountess, if they should happen to be together next time I meet him." They'd been working together that night, after all, and even if Vesenia had never struck her, she was just as thankful to Her Excellence all the same.
"Anyway, I like to think that not many people can claim they've been smacked by the Emperor of Orlais. Though an Emperor like Lucien has smacked more people than most." Just so happened that most of them didn't live to tell about it. Everburn was a very large sword. "In the Emerald Graves I was just smacked by less interesting people. If they can still be called that."
No few of them seemed more monster than man at this point, warped into their armor and physically distorted until they were barely recognizable as even being human. "The good news I have to report is that we rescued twenty hostages from the Red Templars, we took down one of their staging areas for disguising the red lyrium, and no templars or scouts paid for it with their lives." There had been many close calls, as was always the case in war, but they'd gotten lucky. They had put themselves into the right positions to get lucky.
"That is very good news," Leon agreed readily, dipping his chin in a small nod. "Both in itself and for what it means for our future efforts. I can't imagine it did anything but good for morale, either." The Commander added some thick marmalade jam to the buttered bread on his plate and hummed thoughtfully. "That's excellent—I know you were worried about their sense of purpose."
His lips thinned, brows knitting over his distinctively-colored eyes. "Unfortunately, the Chantry as a whole seems to be struggling with the same. Of all the things that moved into place during our time in Halamshiral, that was not at all one of them. I looked into it before the peace talks." Pausing to chew, he swallowed and elaborated. "There's almost no movement. The Chantry seems to have split deeply along several prominent ideological lines, and the result has become a deadlock. The remaining Grand Clerics can reach no consensus on which among them ought to be Divine." His mouth pulled to the side.
"I'm... not entirely sure that is a bad thing, however. I can't say I have the greatest confidence in any of those I've met, and little reason to believe the ones I haven't are much different." It wasn't a flippant comment, what he said, nor did he seem to be treating sharing that opinion with her lightly. But he did state it simply. Honestly, to all indications.
"The fact that none of them were at the Conclave makes it nearly impossible for any of them to rally much support," Séverine added. "It wasn't meant that way, but it served as a statement of their lack of importance. And when none stand out from the rest, how can any of them be up to the task of repairing the Chantry after all this?" There was no one inspiring, no one capable of rallying the people behind them and restoring the faith that had been so deeply shaken by everything that had happened.
No, they would need a more radical choice this time, in one direction or the other. Séverine had an inkling of an idea what might work, but she wasn't ready to share it yet. Not until she'd thought on it more. The Inquisition had great influence now, after all, given the result at Halamshiral. It was not influence to be tossed around lightly.
"I suppose I should get to the bad news, then." She took a bite of bread, finding that the lighter foods were what was agreeing with her the best at the moment. After she finished, she continued. "The hostages didn't provide us with much. All had varying degrees of sickness from the red lyrium exposure, and clearly the Red Templars have been careful about what they were allowed to see. Most that were in a strong enough state to answer questions said they were taken from small villages in southern Orlais. Shipped in covered wagons, chained to each other and blind. They were left in a dungeon somewhere cold, but in winter that doesn't mean much, and Orlais has a lot of dungeons."
It also implied they weren't the ones working to collect the lyrium, as they'd been in the dungeons the entire time. Their lyrium exposure would've been much worse as well. No, they seemed to have been taken for the exclusive purpose of being used as hostages for transporting the lyrium after it was mined. "The Reds have picked up their operations in the Graves as far as we can tell," she continued. "I like to think we've been giving them too much trouble, but more likely they're just getting ready to make a move elsewhere. A few notes in the hideout we sacked spoke of a new leader, but no mention of a name. I'm not sure they even knew. But it's obvious that when they reappear, it'll mean trouble."
A sigh escaped Leon, ponderously and accompanied by a small shake of his head. "It's certainly not much," he agreed, clearly contemplating the news. Perhaps he was trying to see if there was anything extra he could glean from the same information. In the end, though, that didn't look to be the result. "Still, it's good that we disrupted them even to the extent we did. Without a better idea of their strategy, it's impossible to guess how much it hurt them, but it did something, without doubt."
Damn right it did. "I don't know if they feel much anymore, but I'm pretty sure they still feel fear. If their looks before they met the flail were anything to go by."
It took hours for them to pry all the little shards of their enemies from their weapons and armor after it was all said and done. It was not an experience Séverine was looking forward to repeating. And at the same time, she couldn't wait.