Anna adored her new suit of armour.

It wasn't as well-designed as her armour back home, or of as good material, clearly the Inquisition didn't have the resources to make the best of the best. Yet the gilding, the inlays, the artistry...Josephine had outdone herself in getting good workmanship on the appearance of Anna's armour. Golden, silver details, polished to a shine, each piece covered in engravings of flames, swords and eyes...it was armour fit for Andraste's Herald, it was amazing.

Even a chevalier would love it!

She flexed her hand, the gauntlet enclosing it shifting alongside the movement, a perfect fit, the links expertly made. Mere steel, yet it was so finely made, it could be thought to be silverite.

I might look bad in a dress, but in armour like this...

Anna smiled.

"Keep staring at it, and you might wear the armour out before we arrive." Sitting upright fast enough to make her horse twitch in confusion, Anna turned her head to glare back at the source of the verbal jab. Iron Bull was ridding the largest horse of the stable, yet it looked like a pony under him, straining under the weight of the one-eyed brute. His remaining eye flashed in amusement at the sight of her glare, shrugging his massive shoulders, he made the horse under him neigh in protest even as he spoke: "Just saying, it's a good breastplate, would be a shame to damage it through adoration"

Next to the man, riding an actual pony, Varric looked tiny in comparison to the hulking Qunari. Still dressed in his regular coat with his amazing crossbow on his back, the dwarf was chuckling at the larger man's words. Anna shot him a glare as well for good measure. "He has a point, Herald, you've been staring at it for nearly an hour now."

"It's a fine suit, nothing wrong with checking it out, might save your life." Blackwall, further back, chimed in, the first words the quiet Warden had said since they left. In the armour of a Warden, supplied by Josephine, he looked mightily impressive, a grim warrior with his black beard and horse, grey eyes hard as they scanned the country-side. Though then he coughed, somewhat awkwardly adding. "Of course, I'd check the links and flexibility, rather than the inlays, but I'm like that..."

Anna's face reddened even as the others chuckled, this time joined by the Iron Bull's somewhat androgynous captain. "Maybe we should hire the Warden, Boss? We got too many grumps in the troop right now."

"Not happening, Krem, Wardens draw trouble."

"But you love trouble, boss."

"Not Blight-shaped, I'm afraid, disease isn't my thing."

With Varric opening his mouth to partake in the ribbing between commoners, Anna gladly moved her gaze beyond the core of her entourage. Ahead of her, the six templars, each a veteran with years of experience, and grey beards to show for it, grimly rode, hands on their swords. "What? Puking blood till you die isn't a Qunari...ceremony or something?" And behind her, beyond her closest...companions? She wasn't sure what they were, really. Beyond them, there were twenty of the Hessarian Blades and ten of Bull's Chargers. Each was heavily armoured and looked like some of the freebooter knights Anna's father had once hired to deal with some pirates, competent, well-equipped, mercenaries. No amount of polish would remove that impression, and Anna just had to hope it didn't undermine the impression they wanted to make.

"More...unofficial, some taverns weren't exactly up to the standards of the Qun." Riding next to Anna, Cassandra, Josephine in her ridiculous side-saddle, Mother Giselle and Baldwin all seemed lost in their own thoughts. Josephine was somehow balancing a writing board in her one arm as she kept quietly writing down notes on the paper there, seemingly untroubled by the movements of the horse. Bloody perfect noblewoman... For a second, Anna felt a jab of envy at the sight of the woman, but then she squashed it with a glance at her armour. Andraste chose me though, a noble warrior.

Varric was laughing. "The Qunari got taverns!?" Anna smiled, the little troop was such a small thing, yet it carried with it the fate of Thedas...it reminded her of the tales of the Hero of Ferelden. Us against the world, with the Maker at our side.

"Sure. Relaxation is done by every animal on the planet, even ants do it, you know. It's natural, and if done at the times when your species' needs it, there's nothing wrong with it, it's just the Qun." Anna frowned, annoyed with the Iron Bull's words. Sure, Varric was asking, but the last thing she wanted was Qunari preachings in the ranks.

"Wait, you schedule your relaxation?" Varric scoffed. "Like, work ten hours, then you get thirty minutes in the tavern, starting when the clock strikes eight?"

"Don't you?" Iron Bull softly replied. "When do your soldiers, your traders, your labourers, take a break and relax? Is it whenever they want to? Truly?"

"Well, okay...point." Varric grumbled. "Krem, is he always like this? Bet he has a 'Qun' answer for everything."

"Not really, he only whips it out if someone asks and the answer might amuse...amuse him, that is."

"Krem, I'm hurt."

"What? It's the truth."

"Precisely. It's not fun if you explain the joke."

"I have to side with big guy here on that one, I remember this one time Merrill..."

"Water, your worship?" Anna looked up, befuddled by suddenly being addressed when being so busy eavesdropping on the conversation behind her. Before her, dressed in blue and gold livery that was struggling to contain the broad shoulders of a farmer's boy, the dark-haired and earnest-looking man Cassandra had chosen as Anna's squire eagerly offered the water-skin, some of it splashing onto her leg as his horse moved with the man's movements."Oh Maker, I'm so sorry! I'll clean it up! I swear, it won't happen again, your worship!" The boy bent down and began to furiously dab her armoured leg with the sleeve of his fine tunic, making Josephine startle, looking positively horrified.

Anna, more amused by the horrible breach of protocol than anything else, well remembering how poor she herself was at it, reached down and grabbed the man's wrist. "Sutherland, wasn't it? Don't worry, I'm not thirsty, and I think plate will hold against the water."

The man smiled, somewhat goofily, at that, making Anna nearly chuckle. Though his nigh on worship of her was annoying, and his skill at squiring non-existent, his earnestness was...welcome, appreciated even. Simple, honest and willing, Cassandra had chosen the man well and the fact that he even seemed to know how to carry the sword at his side was a plus. "Thank you, Herald, of course it won't, Herald. Can I be in assistance in any other way, Herald?"

This time, Anna couldn't help herself, she chuckled. "No, thank you, Sutherland, but I'm fine. I'll call for you if I need you, okay?"

"Yes, your worship, of course." Putting one arm across his chest and bowing his head, the man reined in his horse as he aimed to go back to his place near the Hessarians, since Blackwall had advocated trying to give the boy some command to see how he'd do.

Glancing back, Anna shook her head. I'm not the one you should worship. There were already chuckles emanating from her side as she was looking back, making her sigh and look to the source of the sound. "Yes? I hear an opinion forming."

Josephine was the first to speak. "Well, we're just impressed by your...tact, it's not common for a goddess."

Anna frowned, but before she could reply, Baldwin invited himself into the conversation. "It's a good sign. That man is one of the people, and he worships the ground you walk on. Herald, imagine what that power can do with a large population."

Anna's frown grew. "It's not for me to use that power, it's all for the glory of the Maker and the will of Andraste."

Giselle smiled at this, a warm, almost motherly smile. Her tone, however, was chiding. "While true, Anna, in practice, you will be the one wielding this one. You know very well how the Maker very seldom gives instructions, it's for us to interpret his will." Giselle's smile widened. "It's a good thing that you see it like this though, it's humble and recognising where the power comes from. I believe you'll use it responsible. It is far too easy to abuse such power."

Anna inclined her head. "Thank you, Mother, but this should be obvious to anyone, all power originates from the Maker, it's a gift to use wisely."

The reply made Cassandra smile, a pale and dull one, focused on some spot ahead. "One would think so, wouldn't you...?"

Anna frowned, confused. What do you mean?

8

8

8

Val Royaux, the most polished turd in existence.

It had been a long time since he'd been there, and Blackwall naturally felt a churning dread deep in the pit of his stomach at the thought of entering it once more. He knew it to be illogical though, it had been years since he'd been there last, he was older, sporting a beard, his helmet kept most of his face obscured and no one would expect to see him wearing the regalia of a Warden. Yet despite this, it was impossible not to look around, trying to gauge his reception and see if he needed to wheel the horse around and gallop away.

He might as well not have bothered. While the odd person glanced at him as the group rode down the road, most eyes were reserved for staring at the trio now at the head of the column, many exchanging hushed whispers, a mixture of awe and fear in their eyes.

At the forefront, Anna rode, looking every bit the Herald of Andraste that had already become a myth among many. While Blackwall himself didn't much like overly intricate armour, he couldn't dismiss the effect it was having on the people looking at her, like she was a goddess made flesh. The two flanking her also drew a lot of stares. Cassandra was very well known, particularly in Val Royaux, a hero to all: Baldwin was also known, though his reputation cast him in a more ambivalent light, one to be feared. The fact that the left and right hand of the late Divine rode slightly behind the Herald was missed by none.

As if she's leading us...or being lead up as a prize or offering. Blackwall wasn't sure which he preferred. So far the Herald had struck him as the archetype of a noble, someone he had little to no sympathy for. On the other hand, she had helped many a common person and was the key to helping many more. Hopefully this won't come to blows.

Many of the Hessarians and Chargers were looking around, staring at the finely chiselled buildings making up the richest city in Thedas, every building seemingly a palace of marble and limestone designed by some architect with a boner for high arches, gilded ceilings and coloured windows. Blackwall, however, was spotting the guards. Orlesian soldiers were hidden in many a cleverly designed alcove, standing in the deeper shadows in numbers or walking atop a roof with a strung bow. They didn't seem hostile, but they were certainly watching the group with cold and calculating eyes, expecting trouble. The guard of Val Royaux wasn't known for allowing any disorder.

It didn't take long to pass the commoners though, for by entering the very first plaza of the city, Blackwall found his eyes widen as a crowd of silk and masks suddenly seemed to envelop him. This must be half the noble families of Orlais represented! Unlike the commoners before them, it was hard to tell if the nobles were staring or not with their masks on, however, they were certainly watching the group as with untroubled elegance they parted to let the group past. All had their own colours and combinations of cloths woven into their attire, making the nobles of Orlais like a sea of colour. Their masks featured much gold and silver, making this sea glitter like a real ocean.

In contrast, the gathering of Chantry clerks and Mothers seemed dull in comparison.

As the sea of nobles parted before Anna and her group, it also opened a large space in the centre of the plaza in which the representatives of the Chantry, thirty in numbers, stood, their crimson-coloured vestments matching their dour expressions and contrasting sharply to the bright and happy look of the nobles around them. At the head of the group, Rowyn stood. Beautiful, freckled face topped by curly red hair that was like a cloak hanging down her back, her big green eyes flashing, she looked striking indeed, like a leader, a leader against the group approaching.

Blackwall couldn't help it, he took a deep breath, even though he wasn't about to speak, he felt nervous.

Next to him, Varric leaned closer. "Yeah, I hate this part too, I got used to it though. Trick is to not look bored and force yourself to pay attention."

Blackwall looked down at the dwarf with an amused look. "Is this another of your...Hawke things? I read part of your book."

"It is, yes. And you read my book? Wait, part of it? What was wrong with it?" Varric looked genuinely insulted.

"Nothing, it was just that I didn't-" Blackwall trailed off as those ahead of the column dismounted, prompting him to do the same. From the back, servants rushed forth to take the horses and lead them to the side...while helpful, Blackwall kept an eye on them, making sure they didn't lead them too far away. You never know...

Looking around, he found the group surrounded by nobles. Above, from every balcony from houses that to anyone but those in Val Royaux would be considered a palace, more stood, looking down at the proceedings with interest and a hushed silence.

At the forefront, Anna, Cassandra, Josephine and Baldwin were stepping forth into the open, their backs guarded by the six veteran templars Cullen had dispatched. Blackwall silently, with Varric and a tense-looking Bull, also inched closer, hands hovering close to their weapons. Something's wrong, Rowyn seems too confident.

Even as he thought it, the Chancellor stepped forward, bringing an accusing finger to bear upon Anna. "Behold, the false prophet has arrived!"

Anna somehow got even taller at the accusation, her chin held high. "The Divine lies dead and you shame her memory by your every action, Chancellor."

"Yes, she lies dead, at your hands!" Rowyn replied, green eyes flashing even as the words made a whisper of unease mixed with anger run through the crowd. Nobles they might be, but they were also Andrastians, and Blackwall saw many a dagger ready to be drawn... "The explosion, the rifts all over Thedas spewing forth demons, the death of the Divine, and you, the only survivor? To say that that's suspicious would be putting it lightly!"

Anna opened her mouth to speak, but Josephine was quicker, the lovely diplomat assuming a friendly tone even as she said. "Surviving an attack is not a crime, Chancellor, and secular and Chantry law both require evidence to lay charges against another."

Rowyn somehow managed to ignore the cutting words, her focus remaining on Anna. "And your explanation for surviving a demon-infested blast killing the most holy Divine herself? That Andraste saved you!? Ha!" Boldly, the chancellor moved closer, the others of the Chantry a silent support at her back. "If she did, why didn't she save the Divine? Was she not holy enough for Andraste!? Were you so special, she couldn't compete for Andraste's affections? The arrogance of such a statement belies belief!"

Next to Blackwall, the Iron Bull leant closer, his voice a whisper. "Somehow I don't think Rowyn intends to put this through lawful process..."

"You don't say? And here I thought the Qunari only noticed the obvious." Blackwall rolled his eyes, making the giant chuckle.

Before them, Anna was clenching her fists in rage, yet Josephine somehow managed to keep her back with but a glance before focusing back on Rowyn. "However unlikely the tale might strike you, the facts are that lady Trevelyan came out from a rift, with eyewitnesses seeing a glowing woman behind her, and that she's capable of closing the rifts all around Thedas and even weaken the giant Breach above Haven itself. Your claims of her being a killer of the Divine and some enemy of the Chantry rings hollow in the wake of this."

"Does it?" Rowyn flashed a glare at Josephine. "This is the woman joining the Inquisition, an illegal organisation flaunting the Chantry's authority. In her camp, she holds an apostate mage, and now I see one of the heretical Qunari among her followers!" There was a whisper of horror across the plaza at the words. "You think this is how the Herald of Andraste would be like, were she real!?" Rowyn gestured at Anna, voice and posture full of scorn.

Anna stepped forward, brushing aside Josephine's feeble attempt to hold her back. Though Blackwall noticed, as she pulled away, that Josephine was smirking. Anna's voice, loud, clear, angry and unafraid, called out. "Those who bear false witness and work to deceive others, know this: There is but one Truth. All things are known to our Maker. And He shall judge their lies!" Rowyn didn't look impressed by the quote of the Chantry, but then Anna continued. "I saw the Black City!" As one, the people around her gasped. "I, a non-mage, saw it! I prayed, as others died, I prayed, and She came to me!" Anna took another step forward, steel in her eyes, clashing against the flashing green of Rowyn's gaze. "She reached out, She saved me, by taking this hand!" Anna's left hand shot up, a fist raised to the sky, a fist crackling with green lighting, as if summoned by the woman's anger, it cast a sharp light across the plaza.

All around, nobles stepped back, whispering to one another, a sound of awe sweeping across the crowd, of uncertainty.

Rowyn looked uncertain too, it lasted for but a moment, but one everyone noticed. Then she straightened, shaking her head. "Parlour tricks, magic deception, do not believe it! Apostates now run rampant and she's using their corrupted magic to her own ends!"

Anna wasn't addressing the crowds when speaking though, she was focused on Rowyn, fist still crackling with energy, making her armour shimmer like the northern lights had come down and taken form around her. "The only end I'm concerned with is that of the rifts! Andraste saved me not to grasp power, but to do His bidding!" A snarl, and Anna raised her fist in front of her, the light within it loudly crackling. "Now her hand is raised. A sword to pierce the sun. With iron shield, she defends the faithful. Let chaos be undone." Shaking her hand, Anna lowered her hand, snuffing out the light as others would a candle, her voice was steely, yet no longer a roar. "I'm no assassin, I'm no prophet. I'm the Maker's sword, and Andraste's will shall guide me."

A quiet hush fell over the plaza and even Blackwall, long having lost what little religious belief he had, felt an unnatural shiver run down his spine.

Rowyn was glancing around, noticing the horde of nobles inching back, of her support waning, and then looked back to Anna with a snarl. Anna looked right back, eyes narrow and hard. Behind her, Josephine was quietly smiling, pleased with having orchestrated Anna's impassioned speech after disarming Rowyn's accusations. Clever woman...

Then, someone started applauding.

Blackwall and the Iron Bull exchanged a pleased smile, then frowned as they realised its nature.

It was a slow, mocking, clapping...

8

8

8

Thanks to my perfect little girlfriend, I'm so bloody lucky to have you.