When the group of adventurers arrived inside the village of Haven, they found themselves amid a violent altercation between the refugees. Elentari raised her eyebrows and looked to Cassandra, the warrior whose constant presence had already become a protective shield for the Herald. The Seeker, for her part, gestured subtly, making it clear she had no idea what was happening.
So, drenched in dried blood, exhausted and aching, the group ran with determined steps toward the large doors of the Chantry. They were closed, and a mob of rebels, both mages and templars, had gathered before them, the two factions facing off.
- Your people killed Her Most Holy! - shouted a soldier clad in worn templar armor.
- Lies! - snapped a man in robes, holding a staff. - Your people let her die! Weren't you supposed to protect her?
- Shut your filthy mouth, mage! - came the templar's response, as he swiftly drew his sword, ready to cut the other down.
Elentari felt her skin prickle as she witnessed how easily they resorted to violence over a mere disagreement. Yet before she could intervene to stop them, Cullen stepped in first, positioning himself between the two and pushing them apart with a bold shove, his sharp gaze filled with unshakable determination.
- Enough!
- Knight-Captain… - murmured the templar, lowering his weapon.
- That is no longer my title. - the blond shemlen corrected harshly. - We are no longer templars. Now, we are all part of the Inquisition. All of us: mages and templars.
- And I wonder how you plan to make that work… - A voice rose from the templar side, laced with cynicism. It was Chancellor Roderick, a member of the Chantry. - I'm curious, Commander. How do you plan to fulfill your promise and restore order... with your Inquisition and your so-called 'Herald'?
Elentari felt she had to speak up, to stand beside the commander of her forces, but as she stepped forward, a clawed hand grabbed her forearm and held her back. She turned toward her captor with irritation and found the apostate watching the conflict with a tense expression. He gave her only a brief glance and shook his head slightly.
For some reason, Solas didn't think it wise for her to intervene. And even though she felt responsible for the uproar, she was beginning to trust the elven mage's perspective. With a quiet sigh, she let him hold her back and stay close, as if he were trying to protect her.
Solas held the "Herald of Andraste," fully aware of the power idolization could bestow on authority figures within religious systems.
In his world, he had not only been Fen'Harel to his people but also a god (much to his own dismay and despite all his efforts to explain that deities were but lies). The faith in the Dread Wolf had persisted beyond reason, beyond any proof he'd offered. And so, Solas had been commander of armies, king of vast lands, an Evanuri, and finally, a god of Rebellion.
The elf he now held was beginning to walk the same path, surrounded by ambiguous and grandiose tales that might someday lend her a divine aura. That was dangerous, especially among fanatics who saw her as a threat to their beliefs, blind to the greatness that seemed to reside in her spirit.
By some impulse he refused to analyze too deeply, when Solas noticed that the Herald was about to intervene, he had stopped her (despite his own tendency to respect free will). He told himself he had done it because Elentari couldn't possibly understand that her involvement would unleash chaos. Those templars didn't just believe in a god her face offended. They saw in her the very thing andrastianism feared and hated most: a mage, and worse, one untrained by any Circle.
Yet when he noticed the way she looked at him, and how easily she placed her trust in him, Solas felt uneasy. Not only because days earlier she had defied him, but because the Herald had stepped closer to him, seeking shelter.
He didn't want to analyze why. But he knew himself well enough to recognize that her trust had sparked a budding desire to protect her. And Solas (when he protected) was often blind to boundaries…
Still, perhaps to soothe himself and his own agenda, he didn't let go of her. He allowed Elentari to feel safe beside him.
Cullen eventually calmed the crowd and sent them back to their quarters. The man inspired loyalty and respect, even among the mages... and that was a powerful trait in a commander.
Once the riot was quelled, Solas noticed Cullen and the Chantry brother still standing face to face in heated debate, while Cassandra stepped forward to join them. Now that tempers had cooled, it was safe for the Herald to approach.
- Herald, please be more cautious when it comes to uprisings, will you? - Solas tried to say it in an authoritative tone, but his voice came out nearly a whisper. She looked at him again, and her expressive eyes seemed to show gratitude for his concern. He released her arm and stepped aside.
He reminded himself of what he had told Varric earlier: that she didn't need his guidance, and that her path was hers alone. Not his.
- Why? - the elf turned to him, locking his gaze with eyes so intense they seemed laced with magic. Her posture made it clear Solas now had her full attention. Elentari seemed unconcerned by the ongoing discussion before them. - What would have happened if I had intervened, Solas?
- Religions claim that the laws of the world are ordered by an absolute and supreme authority…
- The Maker… - she murmured, and Solas nodded.
- Precisely. The Maker, as represented by the andrastian creed and enforced by the Chantry. This places certain fundamental rules beyond all challenge. And you… you are a threat to a pre-established religious system.
- Not just me: the Inquisition.
- Exactly. But beyond that, you are considered the 'Herald' of their prophetess… and the Inquisition, as an institution charged with restoring order from chaos, lacks the power to shield what you represent from the faithful. It's dangerous for you to get involved in disputes when religious fanatics are arguing supposed truths that ultimately don't even rely on objective reality. They are based on faith.
The woman said nothing, weighing his words. Solas merely watched her, silently scolding himself for becoming involved, confessing truths that only he knew, truths tied to his own elvhen condition.
- I must take our visit to Val Royeaux more seriously… when we meet with the priestesses. - the Herald whispered, grasping the depth of what he'd just told her.
- Indeed. Just remember: when laws are attributed to the heavens, any dissent becomes heresy. There is no dialogue with faith. Only obedience… or rebellion.
To his surprise, she looked at him again. Just for a second, but those golden eyes seemed to shine after hearing his words. Solas felt a twinge of curiosity, wishing he could enter her thoughts and understand the reason for that glimmer.
They looked at each other in silence… time passed, though it seemed to stop. Then, she smiled at him, warmly. The mage remained completely still before the dalish elf, controlling every muscle, every expression.
- Thank you, Solas. Your words always give me something to reflect on. - And then, unlike his grip on her, Elentari laid her hand gently on his arm, a soft caress that sent a subtle jolt of electricity through him. He kept his gaze steady, feigning total control before the woman.
- I'm glad to have helped, Herald.
When the dalish elf turned her back and headed toward the commander, Varric approached Solas with a half-smile. Solas turned to face the dwarf, irritated to realize he'd been witness to the entire conversation. Still, true to his self-discipline, he masked every trace of discomfort and met Varric's eyes with his usual implacable stare.
- Child of the Stone…
- Well done, Chuckles. Your advice was spot on. You kept the kid from making a mistake and sparking a riot.
And with that half-smile, slightly mocking and far too amused, the dwarf walked away. Solas watched him in silence and realized (reluctantly) that he had followed the dwarf's advice.
He had gotten involved… when he shouldn't have.