It was a long ride back to the Western Approach, but Rom didn't need much convincing to take it.
He'd been among the first to know of Leon's condition, the first to learn of his worst fear and greatest enemy: time. Now that time was running out, but they still had grains of sand left in the hourglass. Fitting then, that they'd come to this desert to refill it. Rom never knew how it was that he could help Leon, but it turned out he'd be able to make good on his offer. He could kill what needed to be killed, with the knowledge that it would save his Commander. His friend.
And he was good at killing. Man or beast. He was no dragon-hunter, but he could already feel his mark tingling, brighter than usual. Almost in anticipation of the use he was certain it would see. Unless the dragon was old and worn down, he doubted there would be many places his blade could sink in.
"How much farther is it?" he asked Rhys, who rode at the head of their column, guiding them to their destination. It was already further into the Approach than they'd ever needed to go when battling the Venatori and the Grey Wardens here. That struggle seemed like ages ago now.
"Over a couple of more dunes I'd say," the elf said, standing in his saddle to get a better view over the horizon. A lot of good that it would do, seeing how deep the dunes were this far into the Approach. Before he sat back down, his partner Rashad leaned over and told him something in Qunlat. Though he had been with the Inquisition for a while now, his trade tongue was still shaky and used Rhys to translate whenever he could.
Rhys chuckled lightly to himself and agreed, before turning to repeat it to the rest of the party. "As a forewarning, our dragon expert is... well, he's a bit eccentric. 'Course, you'd kind of have to be to think camping out in the middle of the desert watching for dragons is a good idea, but there you have it." He turned with a smile and pointed over the next dune. Expectedly, once they crested it, their expert's camp waited on the other side.
"Sounds like he'd fit in well at Skyhold," Séverine said. She looked uncomfortably warm in her armor, but considering their reason for being here, wearing it was sensible.
The campsite itself was quite small, consisting of little more than a small canvas tent and a fire pit. It looked like the kind of setup designed to be packed up on short notice and moved. The sorrel horse standing in the shade of a large rock must have been the method of transport—the desert had rendered it lean, but it seemed to be doing well for itself otherwise.
A dug-out fire pit with an iron a-frame set over it for cooking was for the moment cold, but their scholar sat in front of it anyway, seemingly preoccupied with a notebook, at least until their voices reached him. He glanced up, dark eyes under a mask with ashes smeared around the eyeholes, probably to stop the sun from blinding him with glare off the silver. It made him look a bit raccoonish. He was otherwise dressed sensibly for the environment: lots of loose fabric for sun protection. When he stood, stowing the book in a bag at his waist, he leaned himself against a staff, smiling at the Inquisition party with the air of someone who'd most definitely been expecting them.
"Inquisition! It's an honor. Frederic of Serault, at your service. Please, join me for a bit—we've some information to cover, I expect." He gestured vaguely around the fire pit, which lacked seating of any sort, suggesting that the sand itself would have to do.
“Introduction to Dragons, is it, professor?" Cyrus sounded somewhat amused, for all the danger, but then it wasn't like anyone had much choice about the latter. He slid down from his mount first, glancing at Khari, and then Leon.
She seemed to understand the wordless point, and followed hastily. There was really no way not to be obvious about the fact that the Commander needed a bit of help, even if it was just someone standing there to make sure he stayed standing after he landed. Khari served that purpose just fine, and Cyrus held the horse still, just in case.
Leon seemed mostly steady—definitely better than he'd been in several weeks, at least. But even then, he did land a little too hard on his dismount, grimacing and leaning heavily on Khari for a bit. The cane he'd taken to using to get around at Skyhold was missing now, replaced by a staff that would do him a little better in the desert, at least until the time came to fight.
Once everyone was settled, the horses left to Rhys and Rashad, the professor sat again as well. He got right to business, whether because he sensed the need or because he was just inclined to do it. "So," he began, setting his hands on his knees. "Rubis—that's what I've been calling her—has been keeping to this area over the past couple of years. I've tracked her patterns of behavior, and you're in luck. Spring is a particularly active season for her, and she tends to eat in large quantities around this time, enough that she'll scavenge if such resources are available. Statistically, she prefers to eat quillbacks when possible, but I've also found evidence of varghest consumption."
"And this is... definitely a high dragon we're talking about?" Leon flexed his hands, creaking the thin leather gloves over them. His gauntlets were still tied to the saddle of his horse.
"Assuredly," Frederic replied. "Rubis has only grown larger since her appearance here; I believe she is now quite possibly the largest dragon to be recorded, but of course for now I can only approximate her dimensions. That's where you come in, no?"
"Feel free to do all the measuring you like, once we've killed her." Rom didn't allow any amount of scorn to creep into his voice. He held no ill will for the dragon; on the contrary, it would be saddening to see her dead. Though she was a great and terrible creature capable of inflicting destruction anywhere she flew, she did nothing wrong save for existing, her only mistake so far being that she was discovered by this scholar, an error that would lead to her end.
"Not that I don't share the Inquisitor's confidence," Séverine added, "but how are we to bring the creature down? Some sort of trap?"
"That's the idea, yes," Frederic replied. "As I said, she eats... quite a lot at this time of year. In preparation for mating, you see. I suggest you present her with an opportunity to feast, and ambush when she attempts to do so."
"She won't see us as she flies in?" Leon sounded skeptical. "The landscape isn't that conducive to hiding, especially not from something airborne."
"Actually, her vision's not especially good," Frederic replied. "You ought to be more worried about how you smell than anything. Fortunately, I already know how to deal with that. I've prepared several decoctions that should let you not draw her notice. At least long enough to get you close."
“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth here, professor Frederic, but, uh... you seem to know a lot about this dragon. Why are you helping us kill her?" Khari no doubt felt similarly to Rom about it, if her reaction to the one other they'd seen together was anything to go by. She didn't seem outright suspicious of the scholar's motives, but perhaps a bit of concern was understandable.
"Truthfully?" he replied. "I'd rather it wasn't necessary. I feel there's still much to learn from her. But your Inquisition keeping this area clear of bandits and the like has made several years of productive research possible, and moreover I fear that if things are left much longer, worse will become of her than death."
"Please explain." Leon's tone was too weary to convey any surprise.
Frederic sighed. "The Venatori," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I understand they have a lyrium-infected dragon? I've had to deal with small groups of them before—but the last didn't burn all their correspondence. I believe they mean to convert Rubis into another of the same. And that, well. I couldn't stop that. Death seems a mercy for her, compared to such a fate. So I contacted your garrison at Griffin Wing, and here you are."
Rom hadn't faced the corrupted dragon at Adamant Fortress; he'd been too busy chasing down Pike and being thrown bodily into the Fade. But he had come face to face with the beast at Haven, and he knew full well what it could do to hurt them. The thought of Corypheus having two at his disposal was... disconcerting, to say the least. Saving Leon's life was motivation enough, but knowing the Venatori had their own plans for the dragon was all the justification they needed to take it away from them.
"We'll do what we can to make it quick," he promised Frederic. "For whatever it's worth."
Séverine stood, hefting up her shield. "Anything else you can tell us? Any signs of damage on it, from earlier battles?"
"Not that I've observed," Frederic replied, after a short nod to Rom. "Like all of dragonkind, the scales on her underbelly are softer than those usually exposed, and of course the eyes and inside of her mouth are vulnerable as well." He paused, blinking quite deliberately before he amended. "Not that I recommend the last. Very powerful fire breath, you understand. Quite capable of cooking you in that armor, I should think. If you've alchemical or magical means of resisting that, I do suggest making liberal use of it."
Séverine shrugged. One wouldn't have thought she was about to fight a dragon. "Templar training is not without its uses... but yes. Probably best to avoid the fire."
Rom stood as well. "We should get to work. Lots of hunting to do, and not much time." He looked to Leon. It was honestly hard to imagine him being up for another fight in his current state... but he of all people knew what magic and alchemy could do to the body. And he'd only experienced a taste of it. "We'll send for you when we're ready. We won't take long."
He'd been among the first to know of Leon's condition, the first to learn of his worst fear and greatest enemy: time. Now that time was running out, but they still had grains of sand left in the hourglass. Fitting then, that they'd come to this desert to refill it. Rom never knew how it was that he could help Leon, but it turned out he'd be able to make good on his offer. He could kill what needed to be killed, with the knowledge that it would save his Commander. His friend.
And he was good at killing. Man or beast. He was no dragon-hunter, but he could already feel his mark tingling, brighter than usual. Almost in anticipation of the use he was certain it would see. Unless the dragon was old and worn down, he doubted there would be many places his blade could sink in.
"How much farther is it?" he asked Rhys, who rode at the head of their column, guiding them to their destination. It was already further into the Approach than they'd ever needed to go when battling the Venatori and the Grey Wardens here. That struggle seemed like ages ago now.
"Over a couple of more dunes I'd say," the elf said, standing in his saddle to get a better view over the horizon. A lot of good that it would do, seeing how deep the dunes were this far into the Approach. Before he sat back down, his partner Rashad leaned over and told him something in Qunlat. Though he had been with the Inquisition for a while now, his trade tongue was still shaky and used Rhys to translate whenever he could.
Rhys chuckled lightly to himself and agreed, before turning to repeat it to the rest of the party. "As a forewarning, our dragon expert is... well, he's a bit eccentric. 'Course, you'd kind of have to be to think camping out in the middle of the desert watching for dragons is a good idea, but there you have it." He turned with a smile and pointed over the next dune. Expectedly, once they crested it, their expert's camp waited on the other side.
"Sounds like he'd fit in well at Skyhold," Séverine said. She looked uncomfortably warm in her armor, but considering their reason for being here, wearing it was sensible.
The campsite itself was quite small, consisting of little more than a small canvas tent and a fire pit. It looked like the kind of setup designed to be packed up on short notice and moved. The sorrel horse standing in the shade of a large rock must have been the method of transport—the desert had rendered it lean, but it seemed to be doing well for itself otherwise.
A dug-out fire pit with an iron a-frame set over it for cooking was for the moment cold, but their scholar sat in front of it anyway, seemingly preoccupied with a notebook, at least until their voices reached him. He glanced up, dark eyes under a mask with ashes smeared around the eyeholes, probably to stop the sun from blinding him with glare off the silver. It made him look a bit raccoonish. He was otherwise dressed sensibly for the environment: lots of loose fabric for sun protection. When he stood, stowing the book in a bag at his waist, he leaned himself against a staff, smiling at the Inquisition party with the air of someone who'd most definitely been expecting them.
"Inquisition! It's an honor. Frederic of Serault, at your service. Please, join me for a bit—we've some information to cover, I expect." He gestured vaguely around the fire pit, which lacked seating of any sort, suggesting that the sand itself would have to do.
“Introduction to Dragons, is it, professor?" Cyrus sounded somewhat amused, for all the danger, but then it wasn't like anyone had much choice about the latter. He slid down from his mount first, glancing at Khari, and then Leon.
She seemed to understand the wordless point, and followed hastily. There was really no way not to be obvious about the fact that the Commander needed a bit of help, even if it was just someone standing there to make sure he stayed standing after he landed. Khari served that purpose just fine, and Cyrus held the horse still, just in case.
Leon seemed mostly steady—definitely better than he'd been in several weeks, at least. But even then, he did land a little too hard on his dismount, grimacing and leaning heavily on Khari for a bit. The cane he'd taken to using to get around at Skyhold was missing now, replaced by a staff that would do him a little better in the desert, at least until the time came to fight.
Once everyone was settled, the horses left to Rhys and Rashad, the professor sat again as well. He got right to business, whether because he sensed the need or because he was just inclined to do it. "So," he began, setting his hands on his knees. "Rubis—that's what I've been calling her—has been keeping to this area over the past couple of years. I've tracked her patterns of behavior, and you're in luck. Spring is a particularly active season for her, and she tends to eat in large quantities around this time, enough that she'll scavenge if such resources are available. Statistically, she prefers to eat quillbacks when possible, but I've also found evidence of varghest consumption."
"And this is... definitely a high dragon we're talking about?" Leon flexed his hands, creaking the thin leather gloves over them. His gauntlets were still tied to the saddle of his horse.
"Assuredly," Frederic replied. "Rubis has only grown larger since her appearance here; I believe she is now quite possibly the largest dragon to be recorded, but of course for now I can only approximate her dimensions. That's where you come in, no?"
"Feel free to do all the measuring you like, once we've killed her." Rom didn't allow any amount of scorn to creep into his voice. He held no ill will for the dragon; on the contrary, it would be saddening to see her dead. Though she was a great and terrible creature capable of inflicting destruction anywhere she flew, she did nothing wrong save for existing, her only mistake so far being that she was discovered by this scholar, an error that would lead to her end.
"Not that I don't share the Inquisitor's confidence," Séverine added, "but how are we to bring the creature down? Some sort of trap?"
"That's the idea, yes," Frederic replied. "As I said, she eats... quite a lot at this time of year. In preparation for mating, you see. I suggest you present her with an opportunity to feast, and ambush when she attempts to do so."
"She won't see us as she flies in?" Leon sounded skeptical. "The landscape isn't that conducive to hiding, especially not from something airborne."
"Actually, her vision's not especially good," Frederic replied. "You ought to be more worried about how you smell than anything. Fortunately, I already know how to deal with that. I've prepared several decoctions that should let you not draw her notice. At least long enough to get you close."
“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth here, professor Frederic, but, uh... you seem to know a lot about this dragon. Why are you helping us kill her?" Khari no doubt felt similarly to Rom about it, if her reaction to the one other they'd seen together was anything to go by. She didn't seem outright suspicious of the scholar's motives, but perhaps a bit of concern was understandable.
"Truthfully?" he replied. "I'd rather it wasn't necessary. I feel there's still much to learn from her. But your Inquisition keeping this area clear of bandits and the like has made several years of productive research possible, and moreover I fear that if things are left much longer, worse will become of her than death."
"Please explain." Leon's tone was too weary to convey any surprise.
Frederic sighed. "The Venatori," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I understand they have a lyrium-infected dragon? I've had to deal with small groups of them before—but the last didn't burn all their correspondence. I believe they mean to convert Rubis into another of the same. And that, well. I couldn't stop that. Death seems a mercy for her, compared to such a fate. So I contacted your garrison at Griffin Wing, and here you are."
Rom hadn't faced the corrupted dragon at Adamant Fortress; he'd been too busy chasing down Pike and being thrown bodily into the Fade. But he had come face to face with the beast at Haven, and he knew full well what it could do to hurt them. The thought of Corypheus having two at his disposal was... disconcerting, to say the least. Saving Leon's life was motivation enough, but knowing the Venatori had their own plans for the dragon was all the justification they needed to take it away from them.
"We'll do what we can to make it quick," he promised Frederic. "For whatever it's worth."
Séverine stood, hefting up her shield. "Anything else you can tell us? Any signs of damage on it, from earlier battles?"
"Not that I've observed," Frederic replied, after a short nod to Rom. "Like all of dragonkind, the scales on her underbelly are softer than those usually exposed, and of course the eyes and inside of her mouth are vulnerable as well." He paused, blinking quite deliberately before he amended. "Not that I recommend the last. Very powerful fire breath, you understand. Quite capable of cooking you in that armor, I should think. If you've alchemical or magical means of resisting that, I do suggest making liberal use of it."
Séverine shrugged. One wouldn't have thought she was about to fight a dragon. "Templar training is not without its uses... but yes. Probably best to avoid the fire."
Rom stood as well. "We should get to work. Lots of hunting to do, and not much time." He looked to Leon. It was honestly hard to imagine him being up for another fight in his current state... but he of all people knew what magic and alchemy could do to the body. And he'd only experienced a taste of it. "We'll send for you when we're ready. We won't take long."