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Rosala is quiet on her feet as she takes a dark corner in the back of the Shadow Dragons central debriefing room. She is and has always been the unnoticed servant in the shadows, seen not heard, and she knows how to use that to her benefit. It is not only that she is an elf in a place where that tends to mean ‘slave’ of little importance, but also that she is purposefully plain.
There have been times where she’s been otherwise, for certain missions…when she adorns her hair with trinkets, covers her freckles, paints her lips and eyes, and wears clothes that show off her assets. Then, she is anything but plain, but it is not her natural or most comfortable form; she does not like the attention it gains, all the eyes on her. She prefers to keep her dark hair in a simple low braid, her assets well guarded, her freckles uncovered and her face unpainted. She would rather be the fly on the wall than the butterfly on the flower. It’s safer that way.
Despite all her attempts to remain unnoticed however, she seems to be the first person that one Varric Tethras notices when he steps in the room. He's a rather handsome older dwarf with a charming air about him, a bit of scruff on his chin but no true beard, and his blond hair kept otherwise short and well slicked back. On his back she notes a large and mechanically complicated crossbow that seems old but well loved. She's heard rumors that he's named the thing.
“Varric, Dorian told me you were coming.” Maevaris greets him with a warm, if subtle, smile,
“Good to see you Maeve.” Varric drawls, turning his appraising eyes away from Rosala to meet Maevaris’ gaze. Rosala blinks at the familiar term of address, surprised.
“Welcome to the Shadow Dragons.” Maevaris says with a sweep of her arm around the the room. Several others of the higher ups nod in greeting to Varric as well, including the shadowed Viper. “I’ve been told you have intel for us?”
“I’m afraid that Magister Gaius has somehow learned of your plans to waylay his caravan of slaves before they arrive at his estate.’”
“That is…concerning.” Maevaris says as she paces the length of the strategic map of Tevinter in the center table of the room. She sighs as she picks up the small caravan icon and moves it to the right, on a pathway through the forest east of the imperial highway. “We’re lucky we discovered he’d decided to change the route for his caravan last week, now it makes sense why he did so.”
“I wouldn’t trust that new route you found if I were you.” Varric shakes his head. “Magister Gaius is a smart one. He’ll have discovered your plant by now, and likely is feeding them false information.” Varric reaches across the table to fiddle with the small carved wooden caravan that Maevaris just moved. After a moment he tips the caravan over onto its side. “I’d guess his plan is to send out a fake caravan filled with his own personal guard, ready to attack as soon as you free them. Meanwhile the real caravan will be heading out on the original route, as planned.”
Maevaris nods thoughtfully. “So we should station our people on both routes, to be sure.”
“Can you spare that many Shadow Dragons?”
“Well…I had hoped to perhaps have some help in that regard.” Maevaris says slowly, “I know you’ve already helped us a great deal by giving us this information, but we’re spread thin right now as it is. Can the Inquisitor spare anyone for this mission?”
“Well.” Varric smiles roguishly. “She can spare me .”
“We will gladly accept your help, you and Bianca are after all a force of your own.” Maevaris says with a chuckle, then gestures to Rosala to come forward. “This is Rosala Mercar. She’ll be heading this mission, alongside one of our newer recruits, Yana. You all will be stationed at the new route, and we’ll have the Blue Wraith scout the original route, just in case they do still take the slaves on the Imperial Highway.”
“Aww, and here I was hoping for a reunion with Broody.” Varric says, before turning his appraising gaze on Rosala and holding out a hand for her to shake. “Good to meet you, kid. Names Varric Tethras, as Maeve said…and this here is Bianca. What’s your skill set?”
“Stealth.” She says instantly, ignoring the strange naming of his crossbow. “And knives. Preferably in people.”
“So long as those people aren’t me.” Varric laughs, “I think we’re going to get along great, kid.”
“It’s Rosala.” She says, with a raise of her brow.
“Sure, kid.”
Rosala rolls her eyes, waving Yana forward. “This is the real kid. Yana, this is Varric Tethras. He’ll be joining us on our mission.”
Yana bounces in place, giving a jaunty salute to Varric. She’s a pretty elf, young and slim but twice as dangerous with a poisoned blade as anyone. She’d supposedly been taught by her mother on how to use a sword when she was young, but had given it up when she’d been sold into a life of slavery in a brothel. Despite not wielding a blade in many years Rosala thought Yana particularly gifted with one, and she learned quick from her Shadow Dragon teachers.
“Kid number two.” Varric acknowledges her with a smirk, reaching out to shake Yana's hand.
Yana simply laughs, unlike Rosala who rolls her eyes hard enough she feels them strain. In the next moment though she sees Varric flinch and eye Yana’s grip on his had with caution.
“Call me kid again and I’ll cut your throat, just as I have a dozen men before you.” Yana releases Varric’s hand with a little giggle, the sudden malice immediately gone from her face. “It’s so good to meet you, though! I look forward to this mission! I’ll see you in an hour for our departure.”
“...Right.” Varric says warily watching as Yana bounces away to get ready. Slowly he looks to Rosala. “I think I like you better.”
Rosala snorts a laugh, shaking her head. “Don’t take it personally. Yana doesn’t like most men.”
“I suppose I can't fault her there.” Varric says with shrug.
Again Rosala strains to keep her mouth from twitching. She doesn’t want to, but she can’t help but like the snarky dwarf.
–
Before they leave for their mission Rosala sits in the joint barracks of the Shadow Dragons and packs her things. It’s a large open room with simple bunks built into the walls three beds high, each one with a safe for personal belongings hidden in the wall. In the center of the room there’s a large hearth fire with pillows and thick rugs in front of it, where a few Shadow Dragons sit playing card games in their time off. Rosala smiles to hear their laughter and easy conversation, watching them with a twinge of longing.
Even having been here for so long, she’s never fully felt that she fit in. So many of the Shadow Dragons are from the Soparati class, just regular everyday Tevinter citizens, humans and elves and dwarves who believe in the cause not just to end slavery, but to end the oppressive class system…the minority of people here are former slaves, like Yana and her, largely because many of those that they save wish to leave Tevinter in fear of their Master’s finding them and returning them to a life of slavery. Sometimes Rosala wishes she too had left, rather than stay. Especially now. Rosala opens the small locket around her neck, gazing down at the miniature portrait of her mother and father. Two humans, with dark hair and eyes and tanned skin. They may not have been hers by blood, but she’d loved them all the same.
Being a Shadow Dragon had been a choice she’d made to follow in their footsteps, to do as they did and save slaves…but sometimes in the silent moments between missions she wonders if she made the right choice to join after their deaths.
She closes the locket with a sigh, and goes back to her packing. Where would she even go if she left Tevinter? Left Minrathous and the Shadow Dragons? Her mind briefly falls to the dwarf who’d come into the meeting earlier; the infamous southern author with a mysterious crossbow from an even more mysterious organization.
“Varric Tethras…” She murmurs to herself as she goes about sharpening her knives in contemplation.
“He’s an interesting one, isn’t he?”
Rosala flinches, having not heard Yana sneak up on her, and almost stabs herself with the blade she’s sharpening. She huffs an annoyed laugh as the lithe woman flops herself down on her bed beside her. “Yana, you should be packing.”
“I’m done already, Captain. Not like I have much to pack anyways.” Yana shrugs, “So. What do you think of the dwarf? Maevaris said he works for ‘the Inquisitor’…isn’t that some southern leader? Y’know, the one that did the thing with the hand and the glowing sky.”
Rosala rolls her eyes, resigning herself to the younger woman’s incessant questions. “She’s supposedly Dalish originally, so I don’t know if you could call her entirely ‘southern’. But yes, the Inquisitor was the leader of a southern organization, the Inquisition; but that was disbanded long ago…now I don’t know what they’re called but I’ve been told they’ve been building a rather pervasive spy network everywhere in Northern Thedas.”
“Why are they doing that?” Yana says, “Aren’t they with the Southern Chantry? Trying to…indoctrinate our society into hating mages and putting them in cages, that sort of thing? Not that I’d complain…Tevinter could use some mages in cages. Ha! That rhymed…”
Rosala sighs again, feeling her eye start to tick, “No. They are not with the Chantry. Like I said, they disbanded long ago. I don’t know what their goals are, but there’s rumors it has something to do with all the elves disappearing and amassing in Arlathan forest.”
Yana hums, “What, they work for the missing’s families or something? Trying to find lost sons and daughters? Wouldn’t have thought most elves would have the money for that…”
“Are you being purposefully obtuse?” Rosala glares at the girl, who gives her a scowl in response. “No, they’re not paid by the missing elves families…although I assume they must get funding somehow. They’re investigating it because they think someone is amassing an army in Arlathan.”
“An army, or a city?” Yana huffs, “Either way...doesn't sound so bad to me, all these elves leaving and finding a new home in Arlathan. It was ours to begin with anyways, wasn’t it?”
Rosala hesitates, surveying the room around them for any who might be listening in too closely. “I know what you mean but…we don’t know who’s doing this, or why. It seems strange to me that those who keep disappearing are all of fighting age, hale and healthy. No elderly, no sick, no young ones…if they are truly building a place for us, where we are all welcome, why are they being so exclusive…so secretive?”
“Well obviously because there’s a whole organization seeking them out, one headed by a false prophet of an even falser shem religion.” Yana hisses. “I would be secretive too.”
Rosala doesn’t have an argument against that, and tilts her head in acquiescence. She side-eyes Yana, a little wary of just how zealous she seems to be about the subject.
“You seem to be pretty enamored with the idea of a new elven nation.” Rosala murmurs.
Yana shrugs, sitting up from her lazy flop on Rosala’s bed to examine her nails. She looks cagey. “Of course, I am…a place to call our own, somewhere where the shem’s can’t enslave us or subjugate us. What elf hasn’t?”
“An elf who knows that the shem’s won’t ever let us have anything to call our own unless we’re prepared to kill for it…or die trying.” Rosala scoffs. “Especially not here in the north. Besides, I’ve heard the Dales are welcoming elves from across Thedas. If ever there was a place where we could be free, it’d be there, not Arlathan.”
“The Dales…” Yana scoffs, getting up from Rosala’s bed finally to pace in front of it. “As if Orlais of all places is safe for us. They’re little better than Tevinter; an alienage is as much a prison as the slave quarters of a Minrathous Magister. Just because the Dales have an elven Marquiess now does not mean anything has changed…especially considering she’s the Empress's bed warmer.”
“I would disagree.” Rosala says, “Although I’ve never journeyed South, I’ve heard she’s done great things for the resettlement of the Dales with elves–”
“Resettlement beside humans.” Yana scoffs, “The elves of Orlais may live outside the cities now, but that does not change the fact that they are still servants . I’d bet my last coin that they’re the ones working the fields, while their human ‘neighbors’ sit in their comfortable homes watching all fat and happy.”
“And this mysterious figure gathering elves in Arlathan is so much better?” Rosala says heatedly, “I would rather the demon I know than the one I do not.”
“And I would rather an unknown than an elf who plays at being a shem.”
Finally, Rosala sighs and throws her hands up in the air and gives in. “I can see there’s no having a conversation with you about this. Believe what you wish, but I for one would like to see some light at the end of the tunnel of shit Thedas seems intent on always throwing at us.”
“I do see a light, Captain.” Yana says over her shoulder as she leaves, “Just not in the direction you do, it seems.”
–
Rosala meets Varric at the exit to the Shadow Dragons hideout, finding him armed and ready to leave. Yana isn’t quite there yet, and Rosala and Varric sit in silence for a moment as they wait. Her previous conversation with Yana keeps circling her mind, and she can’t help it when her mouth starts to speak without her permission.
“Varric…or should I call you Serrah Tethras?” Rosala starts, side-eying him. “I hear that’s the polite form of address in the Free Marches.”
Varric gives her a low chuckle, “Just Varric is fine, kid. Makes me feel old to be called ‘serrah.’ But I appreciate you doing your research.”
“I like the term. I’ve read it’s a form of address for those that are equal to you, as a sign of respect, not just those who are your superiors.” Rosala shrugs, “There is no Tevine version of Serrah.”
“I’ve been told to address people as ‘dominus.’” Varric says with interest, “I’m guessing that’s not quite the same then.”
“No.” Rosala huffs bitterly. “Dominus is only for those who are your betters. It directly translates into common as ‘master.’…but I refuse to call anyone ‘master’ again. I prefer the Free Marches way.”
“I prefer the Free Marches way of a lot of things.” Varric says, “Including the way they make their ale. Haven’t found a pint worth drinking north of the Minanter river.”
“I’ve heard the Free Marches have terrible ale…”
“Exactly.”
Rosala snorts, shaking her head, “I was going to ask you something, about your…organization.”
Varric’s good humor turns a bit more guarded at her words, and he crosses his arms as he leans back against the stone wall behind him. “I’m an open book.”
I highly doubt that. Rosala thinks, but it doesn’t dissuade her.
“I’ve heard your Inquisitor has quite the network of spies around Northern Thedas, one that rivals even the Shadow Dragons. There’s been a lot of rumors on what her aims are…chief amongst them being that she seeks to stop an army of elves amassing in Arlathan forest.” Rosala says, watching the dwarfs face closely, “Is there any truth to such rumors?”
Varric tilts his head from side to side, “Some truth, I suppose, depending on how you look at it. It’s not that we’re trying to stop the elves from ‘forming an army’ in Arlathan forest, but rather that we seek to stop the man who is amassing them.”
That has Rosala’s interest peeked, “Then you know who it is?”
“We do.” The dwarf says slowly, “And we know his goal too…and trust me when I say you won’t like it.”
“Most assume it is to unite elves under one banner, and create a nation for them alone.”
Varric sighs, “In a way, that is what he wants…and a goal like that wouldn’t be so terrible, if not for how he intends to do so. Sometimes, the ends don’t justify the means.”
“There is no freedom without violence.” Rosala says with a sigh, “The Shadow Dragons wouldn’t exist if there was a peaceful way to free the slaves. Magister Pavus and Magister Maevaris already attempted to do so through proper political channels with their Lucerni group, and look where it left them? Here, hiding in the dark.”
“I understand that. I do.” Varric says, “But fighting a war for freedom and a nation to call your own, is not the same as destroying the veil, and the world with it.”
Rosala’s eyes widen. “What do you mean destroy the veil?”
“I mean exactly that.” Varric says solemnly, “It’s…complicated, but the man behind all of the elves leaving for Arlathan is someone called ‘The Dreadwolf.’ He intends to rip the veil down, to restore the elves to their former immortal glory.”
“Immortal?” Rosala whispers, mind reeling. “Dreadwolf…as in Fen’harel? The god of lies and trickery from Dalish stories?”
“The very same.” Varric says, “Or as I knew him, Solas, who fooled us all into believing he was a simple apostate mage who wished to help the Inquisition close the Breach. It was only once the breach was closed and he’d regained whatever artifact he’d lost to Corypheus that he showed his true colors and revealed his plan to render the veil nonexistent.”
“Why even help seal it, if he was going to simply tear it down again?” Rosala says, “And what do you mean, return elves to immortality?”
“I don’t understand it all myself, but as the Inquisitor tells me Fen’harell was the one who tricked the elven gods into a prison of his own making, creating the veil. When he did so, he fundamentally changed the elves, turning them mortal, and many of them lost their connection to the fade entirely.” Varric sighs. Rosala takes this in, her mind turning over half forgotten dalish stories from her birth mother’s bed time stories. All of it slots into place in her mind, pieces clicking into place.
“As for why he helped the Inquisition seal the breach…well, that I believe had more to do with Corypheus than anything else. He needed our help to defeat him and steal his elven artifact back from his clutches.”
She’d heard stories of the Inquisition of course, of Corypheus and his army of red lyrium templars and Venatori. For a long time the Venatori were scorned for their part in the insanity in the south, but over the years they’d somehow begun to regain their power in Tevinter, against all odds. She never had understood the politics of it, but she supposes there must be a good deal of money and power behind the other Magisters support of them.
“The elves leaving to join him in Arlathan Forest…do they know his intentions to tear down the veil?” Rosala asks, only for Varric to shrug.
“That’s the question for the ages isn’t it? We’re not sure.” He sighs, “We’ve found it difficult to find and question his agents, at least without them killing themselves before we can get much from them. They appear to be incredibly loyal, and well trained.”
“Seems like your organization has its work cut out for it.” Rosala says then looks at him a bit suspiciously. “If I’m honest, I didn’t expect you to be so forthcoming.”
Varric shrugs, “Why not? The more people that know Solas’ plans the better. We need all the help we can get. Especially from someone as clever as you…you could do good work with us, if you’re interested.”
Rosala’s eyes widen at that, “I’m already doing good work, here, for the Shadow Dragons.”
Varric shrugs, “Sure. But, if I’m not mistaken, I don’t think you’re all that happy here, are you?”
“Of course I am.” Rosala says immediately, hackles raised, “Who are you to make assumptions like that? You don’t even know me.”
Varric raises his hands in surrender, “You’re right, you’re right. Call it a hunch really, but if I’m wrong…”
Rosala frowns and looks the other way, crossing her arms defensively. “Well…I mean…I’m not entirely opposed to the idea of leaving. I’ve never left Tevinter…and I’ve always wanted to travel.”
“This is your chance to, if you want it.” Varric says gently, hands still up, “Just…think about it, huh?”
“I…alright. I can do that. I’ll think on it.” Rosala nods, accepting the end to the conversation. She peers at Varric with interest. “Although, you never did tell me what this organization is called…I don’t suppose it’s still called the Inquisition, considering they disbanded ten years ago.”
“No. Not anymore.” Varric smiles, “Now we go by a different name. The Veilguard.”
“Interesting.” Rosala says, “Any relation to the Veiljumpers?”
Varric tilts his head, “Some, considering it was the Inquisitor that indirectly created that group, although she lost control of that ship long ago. Now that you mention it, the name is a bit derivative…almost like the name for a bad book sequel. But, what do I know…no one ever consults me about naming things.”
The dwarf shakes his head in annoyance, and Rosala snorts. “I don’t know, doesn’t sound too bad to me…it’s very heroic. ”
Varric raises a brow at her. “Heroic enough to join?”
Rosala laughs, “I said I’d think about it, serrah.”
“It’s Varric, kid.”
“Sure, serrah.”
Varric laughs, loud and gruff. “Oh, I see what you did there. Very clever.”
–
“So who is this mole we’re meeting?” Yana says later when they’re traveling stealthily through the woods, heading to their assigned meeting spot. “Are we sure we can trust him? I mean, like Tethras said, this new route seems likely to be a trap.”
“Our informant is trustworthy. An accountant that works on several different Magisters books.” Rosala sighs, “He’s been working with the Shadow Dragons for longer than even I have, and he’s never led us wrong.”
“Doesn’t mean he won’t now…” Yana grumbles.
“Or he could have been fed false information.” Varric chimes in, and Rosala has to concede that point.
“That’s why we sent a team to both routes.” Rosala says, holding her hand up for them all to stop when she sees a flash of movement in the trees below them. She sees their informant in a small clearing, a tall and thin human with long dark hair and ink stained clothes. She slides out of the shadows and creeps up behind him.
“Hark.” Rosala whispers in greeting and smirks a bit at the man’s visible jump in shock as he turns around. “Good to see you. This is my team, Yana and Varric. What’s the situation?”
Hark nods at her, as well as Yana and Varric, “You’re just in time, the rest of the group is about to depart. As far as I could see they are indeed a shipment of slaves, not guards as your agent Varric suggested they might be.”
“You’re sure?” Varric says suspiciously, “That almost seems too…easy.”
“I’m as sure as I can be.” Hark sighs with a worried frown. “We picked up the shipment of slaves in Asariel, and they’re far too thin and weak to be anything but slaves; not to mention they’re all elves. I should warn you however that the guards Magister Gaius sent along with me are…strange. They are not his usual house guards.”
“Hired muscle?” Varric asks, and Hark shakes his head after a moment of thought.
“Three of them, maybe, but two of them are mages.” He says, “Not many mages in Tevinter would lower themselves to guard work, to say the least. I…suspect they could be Venatori, or at the very least Altus mages who are aligned with their interests.”
Rosala swears, “How many?”
“Two mages and three martial focused guards.” Hark says, and Rosala nods with a frown. It doesn’t make this mission impossible, but she does wish that they’d brought a mage with them to run barrier interference. What she wouldn’t give to have the Blue Wraith on her team right now.
“So you’re our inside man?” Yana asks abruptly, “You were the one who found the alternate route?”
Rosala sighs at the note of accusation in her tone. “Yana…sorry about her, she’s…new. And rather prickly.”
Hark frowns but after a moment nods, “That’s quite alright. I’m sure she’s perfectly in her rights to be distrustful of anyone from Gaius' household, especially someone who is not a slave but a paid accountant. But I assure you, I am on your side. I’ve been working with the Shadow Dragons for many years.”
“Really…how many years?”
Hark blink as he seems taken aback by that question. “Well…it’s been so long, but I think about…ten years? Nearly since their inception I would say.”
“Trust me on this Yana, Hark is not the problem here.” Rosala says sharply before Yana can further harp on the man. “Now. Let’s get right to the point; where’s the caravan?”
Hark nods, “I’ll take you there; but follow from a distance. I told them I was walking a ways in to relieve myself in the woods, but they’ll be noticing my absence soon. We should depart right away.”
They do as the accountant says, following from a distance stealthily as Hark makes his way back onto the pathway where the caravan sits. It’s a large three cage caravan, pulled by Anderfel oxen with gold tipped horns. Around the three cages stand two mages and three guards with blades at their sides, just as Hark had said there would be.
Hark approaches them with a genial smile, saying something that Rosala can’t quite hear. What she can see however has her tensing. The body language of the mages and guards is…off. They don’t immediately return to the caravan to continue forward, and instead they seem to be moving into some sort of guard formation around the cages. Something isn’t right.
“Something isn’t r–” Rosala begins to voice, only to be cut off by a gasp of shock when the closest guard to Hark reaches out and slits the man’s throat.
Rosala watches in dismay as the mages around caravan of slaves begin to chant, and the cages erupt in red light. The elves inside scream, children begin to wail, the elderly go white with shock and horror, falling to their knees as a dozen flesh wounds appear on their arms and legs, blood draining from them into the waiting palms of the blood mages stationed around them.
“ Faex –they just–” Rosala swears, crouching lower in shock. “What the fuck are they doing?”
“Asking for my blade in their throat, that’s what.” Yana says, practically bouncing with angry energy beside her.
“Venatori.” Varric whispers darkly, “I’d recognize them anywhere, even without their typical dress.”
“We need to stop them,” Yana growls, “Now!”
“We will, but first we need to scout the edges of this clearing to ensure there’s no scouts hidden in—Yana, wait– faex! ” Rosala says, only to swear under her breath in tevine as she turns to find Yana already gone.
“Well, guess we’re doing this now then.” Varric says quietly, and Rosala swears again as Yana’s golden head of hair appears in the underbrush of the edge of the clearing.
“We need to act fast. Stay here and cover her from above, I’ll sneak around the other side to pincer them.” Rosala says.
By the time she’s in place across the clearing, Yana has already lept into action, and Varric is raining down arrows from above, shooting one of the guards through the neck. Rosala leaps into the frey, attacking the closest Venatori with a dagger to the side, only to be blocked by a magical barrier.
“Sanguis inimicorum meorum protegat me.” The mage chants in Tevine, and clenches the hand in the air not holding his staff. A red ray of energy tinged with the droplets of the slaves blood splinters the air, and Rosala flinches backwards as it shoots upwards into the sky.
She watches in horror as a red dome appears above them and Varrics arrows begin to harmlessly bounce off of it. “ Faex.”
The mage laughs, using her moment of distraction to send a burst of thunderous magic at her strong enough to throw her backwards into the barrier. It shoots lightning up her spine as she hits it and she struggles away to the ground with a shout of pain. Outside she can hear Varric shout in alarm, and to her right she can hear Yana give an angry battlecry, as the two remaining guards are pushed back by her sword.
“Get away from her, slaver scum!” Yana screams, swinging her long sword through the air at the Venatori mage in front of Rosala.
She takes the momentary distraction of the mage to roll to her feet and catch her breath, only just in time to block a strike from one of the bodyguards. She quickly takes stock of the situation, realizing that it’s now four against two, with Varric taken out of the equation. As she blocks and dodges she looks to the slaves in their cage.
Most of them are cowering, but several of them seem to be dead of blood loss. There are a few who look healthy and strong, however, with only a few minor cuts on their arms and legs. A plan begins to come together in her mind.
“Yana! Cover me!” She yells, as she ducks under the blades of the Venatori assassin. Yana is instantly at her back, roaring as she swings her sword in wide arcs to keep their assailants back.
Rosala sprints towards the cages, using the butt of her blade to slam into the lock’s. It takes a few tries and a few ducked blasts of arcane energy, but eventually she gets them open.
“Any who can fight, this is your chance!” Rosala shouts, turning kick away the blade wielding assassin who was trying to sneak up on her. “There is no escape for us so long as those mages live!”
From the open cages, five newly freed slaves emerge and run towards the mage at the back who’s been sending blast of energy towards them all. They’re still chained, but somehow manage to work together enough to jump the mage and wrap their chains around their neck and arms. Rosala watches gleefully as they take the mage down, strangling the Venatori with their combined efforts.
With the constant barrage of missiles now gone, Rosala can finally go all out. She attacks the last two guards viciously while Yana handles the other mage, until finally she sees her opening and slits the man’s throat and stabs the other in the gut. From there it’s a quick defeat, with both Mages being overwhelmed by Yana and Rosala’s blades until both their staves are snapped. Rosala stops Yana before she kills the final mage, shaking her head.
“We’ll need at least one of them for questioning.” She says as Yana stands down, “We should find out how they knew Hark was a spy, and what they were intending to do with that blood magic ritual.”
“What if we need to kill them to get rid of this barrier though?” Yana says, gesturing up at the still humming red barrier as she ties up the unconscious mage. “It doesn’t seem to have gone away not that this one’s knocked out.”
“Leave that to me…and do what you can for the survivors.” Rosala says as she gestures to the elves and humans still cowering in their cage. “And don’t think we won’t be talking about your little stunt you pulled back there. You could have gotten us all killed!”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Yana says and Rosala rolls her eyes as she lets her go. They’ll talk later.
“There has to be a way out of here…” She murmurs to herself, whirling around to look around for anything that could be contributing to this spell. She doesn’t see anything in the area, but as soon as she searches one of the mage’s bodies she finds something–a red gem, glowing with blood magic, embedded in a leather wrist band.
She can hear Varric in the distance, but it’s muffled even when she’s as close as she can be without getting electrocuted. She takes the ges from the dead mages’ wrist, ignoring Varric’s voice—she can’t hear him anyways. As soon as she tears the things off the corpse's arms she bashes the heel of her dagger into them, shattering it.
The dome flickers but doesn’t disperse, and Rosala gets up to look for the other mage–they must have another one. As soon as she turns though she sees Yana there standing over the other mage, already holding the other gem.
“Good, you found the other one. Break it and we can get out of here!” Rosala calls.
“Not yet.” Yana says, and Rosala looks at her incredulously.
“What?”
Yana ignores her, turning to the amassed freed slaves who are using the guard’s key to open their chains. Most of them look to them both like saviors, but a few of them look warily between them, sensing that there’s tension in the air.
“Brothers and sisters…before I crush this barrier, I would speak to you on your futures.” Yana says, in a strong and even tone that Rosala has never heard from her before. “You are free, but to what end? Where will you go? What safe haven can be found in Tevinter?”
Rosala steps forward, unsure where Yana is going with this, “The Shadow Dragons offer safe harbor for all freed slaves. Come with us, and we will find safe harbor for you–”
“The Shadow Dragons?” Yana says slowly, laughing bitterly, “They’ve been trying to end slavery for ten years now, and to what end? They fail at every turn; they free slaves only to set them loose on the world to be stollen into slavery again in a fortnight. They are weak, and short sighted, and they cannot protect you.”
Rosala looks at Yana with increasing wariness, “Yana, what are you doing...y ou are a Shadow Dragon–”
“No. I am not. Isn't that obvious by now?” Yana says coldly, “Keep up, Captain.”
Rosala looks behind her at the humming barrier, finding Varric’s wide eyes through the film of red. It’s unlikely he can hear the words Yana has said, but by the look on his face she can tell he knows something is wrong.
“My people,” Yana continues, stepping forward to the freed elves. “You have a choice, today. You can join me, follow me to Arlathan forest, and find a new life there in a nation built for our people, where we can flourish away from the humans who would push us down. You will be cared for, fed, and taught how to defend yourselves and given a home."
The freed elves exchange looks at her speech, and Rosala begins to put as much space between herself and Yana. She doesn't know this woman who speaks with such passion, and who she doesn't know she also cannot predict. She needs to get closer to Varric, so once the barrier is down they can stand united against any further threat from Yana.
"Or…you can remain here in Tevinter, and cower like a dog awaiting scraps from it’s master. It's your choice. What will you do?" Yana finishes, holding up the red gem that will remove the Venatori barrier. Yana gestures first to herself and then to Rosala. "Fight? Or...run?”
Rosala watches in horror as many of the freed elves drift towards Yana on the other side of the clearing. Only the very sick, old or the parents with children seem to migrate to Rosala’s side.
“Stop—you don’t know what you’re doing!” Rosala says to the elves, “She makes it seem like a paradise...but the elves there are in service of a man who would use you only as a means to his own ends! He seeks to tear the veil down, as it nearly was ten years ago. I'm sure most of you remember the Breach and all the chaos it sewed; if he succeeds, it will not just be your own lives at stake!”
The dwarf has already whispered falsities into your ear I see." Yana hisses, frowning as she notes the elves on her side shifting in uncertainty, “Don’t be alarmed by her words! The veil will fall, it’s true—but it will not be as it was before. So long as you remain under the Dreadwolf’s protection no harm will come to you! And when the dust settles, it will be us, the elves of Arlathan, who will rise immortal from the worlds ashes, to make it anew.”
“Do you not hear yourself?” Rosala gasps out, looking to the faltering elves, “They seek to end the world! How can you ally with such a cause?”
“End it, to remake it!” Yana yells, her composure breaking. “What you fail to see, captain, is that the world is already so broken that the only way to fix it is to burn it all to the ground first! Look around you! Look at these innocents sold into slavery!”
Yana gestures to the elves, both on her side and Rosala’s. The children cry and hide in their parents legs
“How much longer must our people be subjected to injustice by the world, how much longer must we dig in the dirt for scraps of power?” Yana says empassionedly, “Things will never change, so long as we remain as we are. You said it yourself, there is no human that would allow us anything that we do not kill to keep.”
That, Rosala has no answer for, but she doubts Yana would have listened even if she had. Yana drops the red gem and crushes it under her heel. “I am done with this conversation. As you said; believe what you wish.”
The barrier fizzles into nothingness around them and Varric immediately runs up to Rosala’s side, Bianca raised and at the ready. Yana simply frowns at the raised weapons, holding her arms out in surrender as she backs up slowly into the woods. The elves she’s convinced to her side follow her hastily, but give her a wide bearth in case Varric looses his arrow.
“She’s one of the Dreadwolf’s agents.” Rosala fills Varric in, which has his hand tightening around Bianca.
“You would kill me? Simply for freeing these elves and giving them a choice?” Yana says, turning her back to them to once more address the nervous elves who’d joined her side. “Follow me, if you wish to seek a better life. If you do not, I will not stop you.”
“I will.” Varric says and steps forward. Yana stops, turning to look over her shoulder coldly. “Stop, or I’ll shoot.”
Yana smirks, and ignores his words, turning forward to walk into the woods, the elves moving to follow her despite everything they’ve said. Varric releases an arrow, and Rosala watches it fly towards Yana’s back, only to be deflected by a magic barrier. A figure steps from behind a tree, and Rosala stares at them in shock. The elf is dressed in elaborate armor, her hair hidden by a green veil attached to a gold mask that covers her upper face and mouth, leaving just a sliver of dark skin to peak out around her cheeks and jaw. The staff she holds up is made of intricately carved and lacquered wood, topped with a hovering blue crystal. She’s never seen an elf so tall.
"Oh, shit..." Varric hisses next to her with clear recognition, heaving Bianca higher on his shoulder.
Who is that?" Rosala whispers to Varric, but before the dwarf can respond Yana speaks.
“Reva.” Yana says with a sigh of relief at the sight of the tall elf, “Finally. You’re late.”
“I am here exactly when I need to be.” She says in a low voice, looking over the elves beside Yana with glinting amber eyes. "You have done well, Yana, the Dreadwolf will be pleased."
Yana's face flushes as she bows to Reva shortly, her mouth twisting up into a proud smile. In the next breath, Reva holds her staff up quickly to deflect an arrow from Varric, releasing the barrier around Yana momentarily before casting another one around Varric, Rosala and all the elves who’d remained on their side. Rosala reaches out and pushes against the new barrier, flinching backwards as it leaves her fingers feeling cold and numb.
"Solas' right hand woman." Varric murmurs with anger in his voice, "Wherever he needs his dirty work done, that's where Reva will be."
"I do what I can, for the greater good of the elven people." Reva says to Varric, muffled by the barrier. She turns to Yana and the assembled freed elves, "Now, leave this place. I will remain here to ensure you are not followed."
Yana gives a nod, and says something that they cannot hear through the barrier, before turning and leaving with her converts. Varric swears beside Rosala as they watch the elves take off into the woods, while Reva remains behind to stare them down. Finally, when only Reva is left, she walks over to cut the ropes binding the unconscious Venatori mage they’d tied up earlier, who just happens to be outside the barrier. The elves cowering behind them gasp, but they can do nothing but watch helplessly as the elven mage heals the Venatori until his eyes flicker open. The mage freezes as he blinks up at Reva, who has her stave held warningly against his throat.
“You will run, as soon as I lift my staff, and go to tell your master of what’s happened here.” Reva says, and then uses the tip of her staff to turn the Venatori's chin to look at Rosala and Varric. “You would do well to remember their faces.”
As Reva steps back, releasing the Venatori from his intimidating presence, the still bloodied mage stumbles to his feet and begins to run. Rosala watches the Venatori escape into the woods with fierce anger. Reva walks forward, until she's close enough for Rosala and Varric to touch her if not for the barrier; this close Rosala can see that her dark skin is mottled with burn scars. After a cursory glance at Rosala that's more dismissive than appraising, Reva turns her gaze downwards to Varric.
"You, dwarf, seem to appear everywhere you shouldn't be." she drawls, "It is...persistently irritating."
"It's a special talent of mine, irritating the bad guys." Varric says with a wry smile. "Usually it means I'm doing something right."
Reva's scarred jaw, the only part of her face that they can see under the mask, ticks. "I will leave you here, to meet your fate, whatever that shall be. I hope we do not meet again, dwarf. I believe Fen'Harel would be...displeased if you die."
"Oh, I bet he would." Varric says, "Would he also be displeased you've left these poor elves to be recaptured Tevinter slavers? That doesn't seem very in line with the god of Rebellion."
"The Dreadwolf understands that sometimes we must do unpleasant things to achieve our goals." Reva tilts her head briefly to the side. "Whether they were behind this barrier or not, it would not change their fate. They have made their choice, and I cannot protect them now."
Finally she turns away from them, walking down the same path Yana and others had followed; no matter what Varric shouts at her back, she does not turn back. The barrier remains up even once they can no longer see him, and though they search the area for any crystals like those found on the Venatori, but they find nothing.
“We need to figure out how to get this damned barrier down.” Rosala groans, “That Venatori mage they released will surely run for help; and I suspect there’s more Venatori waiting at a nearby camp, they were clearly prepared for our arrival.”
Varric eyes the old and sick and injured elves that are cowering in the center of the barrier by them, considering. “It’s possible the other Shadow Dragon group will come for us before then...”
“If they’re still alive.” Rosala sighs heavily, pinching her nose. Behind her she hears an old woman sob, and she cringes. She should probably keep her voice down.
“Well, what choice do we have but to wait?” Varric says as he shakes his head.
Choice, choice, choice. Rosala grits her teeth at the word. Yana and Reva both had gone on about a choice, and yet was it really a choice if it meant they either followed her or were subjected to this?
“No.” She hisses. “I’m not giving up. Help me start digging. Everyone! If you can move your hands, pick up a rock and start digging at the edge of the barrier. Just be careful not to touch it!”
Rosala quickly tugs the metal helmet off of one of the dead guards, using it’s curved edge to start digging at the soft piney earth around the barrier. Varric is the first to join her, pulling out a small trowel from one of the bags around his waist, and beginning to dig. Rosala doesn’t ask why he has one. Slowly, others appear around her, kneeling elves digging carefully with their hands or rocks or the dropped weapons of the dead guards.
It takes them an hour to dig a hole large enough that the smallest of the elven children can get through. Once out on the other side, the child begins to dig there, widening the hole enough that the larger folk can get through.
“That took too long. We need to get out of here quickly.” Rosala pants as she stuffs herself out the other end of the hole, the last to go through. And just as she’s through, it’s like she’s spoken the danger into being, as in the distance she hears the sound of voices speaking in Tevine.
“Faex. That must be the backup. Everyone, we’re heading west! If you get lost or separated from the group, just follow the tree’s marked with a crescent moon!” Rosala calls out. “Varric lead the charge, I’ll protect the back. Now, we need to run!”
Calls of fear go up around the group, and they begin to run with all the strength they have left. Several of the young children are picked up by their parents of the other adult elves, but the elderly and the injured are forced to hobble behind them. There’s no one that can pick them up, and Rosala fears they won’t be fast enough; which is when a thought comes to her.
“Wait!” She calls to the several of the limping or hobbling elves. “The Oxen! I know it’s not ideal, but get in the cage—we won’t make it otherwise!”
She can see they’re clearly reluctant to enter the cage they’d only just escaped from. Rosala takes the door and breaks it from it’s hinges, leaving it open at the back, which seems to breakt through their fear. They pile into the wheeled cage, and Rosala leaps onto the sitting board of the caravan behind the oxen. The frightened beasts are shivering in their harnesses, eyes rolling madly still from the battle they’d just been in the middle of. Still, they respond to her snapping the reign’s likely eager to leave the site of carnage.
Quickly they head down the forrest pathway, separate from the rest of the group running through the trees. As unfortunate as it is to split up, it’s impossible for the wheeled caravan to go up the steep rock strewn slope into the dense forest. They’ll have to go the long way around. Unfortunately, going the long way around means that the Venatori backup catches up to them. They’re speeding up to them on Imperial bred horses, all black and sleek and faster than any oxen could be.
Rosala swears as a bolt of fire zips past her head. Behind her the sick and elderly elves cry out in alarm. She snaps the reigns of the oxen faster, and then uses her other hand to whip out a dagger and throw it at the Venatori mage sidling up next to her on a horse. It strikes true, and the woman goggles as she clutches her bleeding neck, which sprays the cart in blood as she falls off her alarmed horse.
Four more Venatori try to besiege them but fall to her blade. The last of them hops into the open cage of the caravan, causing the elves to scream in fear, and Rosala is forced to turn in her seat, paying only half attention to the winding pathway in front of her, as she shouts, “Get down!” As soon as they duck she lets her blade sing through the bars of the cage and meet its bloody end in their jugular. It sprays the occupants of the cage once more as the man clutches his neck and falls backwards off the cage into the dirt. Rosala feels a little bad for the elves, but she supposes it’s better that they be traumatized by a little blood than be taken as slaves again.
Finally, the barrage ceases, and Rosala slows the terrified oxen’s run to a trot as she catches her breath and turns in her seat. “Is everyone alright?”
“Y-yes. We’re all alive.” One of the elders confirms through the bars behind Rosala. “Thank you.”
Rosala sighs in relief, nodding to them. “Don’t thank me yet. We still need to find the others.”
–
Finding the others is thankfully not too difficult, as they seem to have hidden at a nearby Shadow Dragon hideaway. It’s a small cottage, kept purposefully unkempt on the outside so as to appear abandoned.
Rosala knocks the usual code into the door, one that Varric had been shown before they left just in case something like this happened. Varric opens the door a moment later, looking relieved to see her.
“I was beginning to think you were a gonner, kid.” He says, patting her on the shoulder as the elves behind her filter into the cramped cottage. “I’m impressed.”
“Impressed?” Rosala scoffs, everything finally hitting her. She slumps into a rickety chair by the boarded up window. “This is the most tits up mission I’ve ever run. My team member betrayed me, and half the people we came to free up and left with her.”
“Yeah...but you got the rest out of there, safe and sound, even when everything was working against you.” Varric says softly, sitting down across from her. “Look around. You did this. We’re here, alive, because of you, Rook.”
Rosala looks around, noting the happy reunions between children and their grandparents, the relief on the faces of these elves who had no choice but to be separated. A small smile twitches on her lips, briefly superseding the guilt. Then, Varric’s words catch up to her and she looks to him in confusion.
“Rook?”
“Seems to fit better than ‘Kid’ wouldn’t you say?” Varric chuckles, “The way you maneuvered everyone, getting them into the right positions so they could win the board…yeah. Rook.”
Rosala hums, smile widening. “I…like it.”
“I hoped you would.” Varric says with a soft smile, “And I also hope that you’ve thought about my offer…especially now that the Venatori know your face.”
Rosala frowns at that. “It’s true, I’m sure they’ll be posting it everywhere they can in search of me…especially since they're in leagues with Magister Gaius, who by law is within his rights to call for my execution now, considering I freed 'his' slaves. It’s likely the Shadow Dragons will have me go to ground for awhile, until my fame dies out.”
“And you’re alright with that?”
For a long minute Rosala considers her answer. At first she'd had doubts on the validity of Varric’s claims about this ‘Dreadwolf’s’ plans, but after everything that’d happened today, everything Yana had said and confirmed…there’s no denying that this group banding together in Arlathan is a rather inevitable threat. If they truly can tear down the veil, then it will be like the breach ten years ago all over again. She’d been young then, only twelve, but she still remembers the tears in the veil opening all around Minrathous, the demons emerging in the streets to kill and wreak havoc. She can’t imagine why anyone would want to do such a thing.
But is she really ready to leave the Shadow Dragons?
Her hand goes to her locket around her throat, thumbing the Tevine engraving there. ‘ To Rosie, with love…mama & papa.’
“My parents…well, the Mercar family who adopted me, they were Shadow Dragons.” Rosala says thoughtfully, “I joined because I wanted to be like them, saving people, freeing slaves…making Tevinter a better place for people like me. But it’s been almost four years since I joined, and I feel like with every step forward we take two more backwards. I’ve been thinking, for a long time really not just since you made your offer, that maybe…maybe the Shadow Dragons aren't the best fit for me. Maybe I can do more for Tevinter outside of it, rather than from within it.”
Varric nods slowly, “Is that a yes then?”
Rosala takes a breath, lets it out slowly, and then lets go of her locket. She meets the dwarf’s eyes head on and nods sharply. “Yes. I’ll join you. This...‘Dreadwolf’ must be stopped.”
“Well then…” Varric smiles and holds out his hand, “Welcome to the Veilguard…Rook.”