Boots click against the solid glass-like tiles of the castle hold as a man reaches to the wooden door of metal linings, his attire consisting of a tan-color robe with leather brown belts that tied together and some leather armor on his person. Dark hair nicely combed, his facial hair of a black mustache and small hair below his lower lip personally well-groomed. Upon pushing open the door, he is greeted by the sight of another man in armor inside, looking over some books that were shelved at the corner of the room by the glass window where faint frost colors the tint.

"Felix!"

The armored man turns as soon as he heard the door open, and smiles, "Dorian. It's good to see you again."

The same can almost be said for Felix, if Dorian didn't know any better. The Tevinter mage can make out the dark circles in his old friend's eyes. Sadly, not a sign of overwork or lack of sleep, with his sun-tanned complexion looking to lose more of its supposed warm color by the day. Of course, it is hardly noticeable for someone afar, unless one is as long acquainted as Dorian is.

Dorian bits down the urge to release his sadness, and walks up to Felix with arms offered. An embrace that Felix returns and patting the other's shoulders with a hint of laughter at their meeting again.

Felix - Dorian's best friend from the same country of Tevinter, son of Gereon Alexius, whom from what Felix has told of Dorian through letters, is becoming more secluded from the rest of the world, excluding the meetings with his own son, meetings that always carried the hopeful words of Felix's eventual, and impossible, recovery.

One might say Dorian is a bit jealous of the sort of relationship Felix has with his father, though it's obvious enough to the mage that nothing is so stellar as it depicts with a determined father and fate-accepting son.

They part their hugging, Dorian grabbing to his best friend's shoulders longer, treasuring his hold of what was still here, "Thank you for coming Felix. Hopefully the travel hasn't been too harsh."

"Hey now, it's not like I'm not going to just keel over at the slightest bump, you know," Felix chuckles at that, a genuine humor of a remarkably dark subject. Dorian can only give a smile at that, for the sake of his friend's own feelings rather than himself. Felix is always the sort to stay bright at the darkest times, always the strongest one between the two of them.

Releasing each other, the duo walk to the chairs a round table was in between and there, they sat down. "And Alexius?" Dorian asked, "How is your father doing?"

There are plenty of words to say to that, fiercely pursuing, tirelessly exhausted for over many sleepless nights. Yet, none of those came to air as Felix frowns.

"I wish I knew how to answer that. Truthfully...I don't really know anymore." Dorian waits for his friend to elaborate, arms resting on the table with a deep pondering in his eyes.

"He's still working," Felix tells somewhat anxiously, "as we both know, but...there's something more to it. I honestly think he's got himself into something he shouldn't."

Dorian frowns, "I have noticed something peculiar from your father's actions lately, and even more of that after hearing this bit of news, which is the reason for why I wanted us to meet here," He reveals this stunning knowledge, "Alexius is leading the Arl of Redcliffe Castle by the Venatori here, and what's more, he's gained an alliance with the Mage Rebellion."

Felix's expression darkens, not quite surprised, either that he had known beforehand, or he didn't and yet it was something that his father would do, a desperate act recognized. Dorian believed it to be the former, because certainly, Alexius recruiting that mage group of extremists was definitely not something the older man normally does.

The Tevinter mage rubs his forehead, "I can't even comprehend how Alexius managed to get into contact with that group...well, certainly the reason is obvious enough."

He takes a longer look at his quiet friend. Truly, for anything to save his son, Alexius is extending both his connections, power, even wealth to the near brink for any cure to find in order to save Felix, it is a desperation that honestly leaves Dorian shocked and dismayed. His old mentor used to act with reason and calm analysis, but when it comes to his only blood, he is but a man who acts as if it is his own heart that is held out in front of him, threatened to be crushed unless he does whatever it takes to save it.

"But even for that," Dorian gently continues, "It's an escalation. He wouldn't do this on his own merits."

Felix nods, agreeing, "Before the rebellion, he did try talking to some members of the Circle, but...well, he didn't like hearing the truth spelled out for him. You know how he can be."

All too well. "But even so," Dorian states again, "why form an alliance between the Rebellion and the Venatori? He should be more than aware of the dangers those mages possess."

"Father doesn't care for that, not anymore. He's getting more and more frantic as time goes on," While his was running shorter. Felix shifts his shoulders in a stretch, a faint exhale, "He's doing this not because he's hoping to find something that could save me, but someone promised that he would. Someone that you'd find at the dark corner of an alleyway."

"A new associate of that kind?" Dorian asks, all kinds of worries building in his chest. "Has he really gone that far?"

It is his own old mentor who told Dorian never to trust the false wishes of those with unknown yet likely dark goals. To go against his own advice? No, rather, someone saw him struggling and weakened with growing hopelessness, and they took advantage of that, worse yet, his old mentor latched onto it without qualms.

"Have you taken anything new from him?" Dorian immediately asks Felix with urgent hush. If it is a new potion that was purely experimental, done by an alchemist of an unknown background, or worse yet, that his old master would fall so far as to rely on dark forbidden arts! No death would be worse than what unforeseen effects such dangerous efforts could unfold for Felix and Alexius.

Felix smiles gently, "Not yet, but he's been reassuring these last few weeks now, more certain than hopeful. Honestly never seen him look so exhausted, and you'd think I wasn't...ill..."

Dying. Dorian somehow knew Felix had planned to say that, but realized it was a bit too morbid in current context.

"I wish he'd stop. I know, I understand. I probably would have done the same thing for him, or if I had a son of my own," Felix cradles his arms together, "But I'm worried Dorian. I'm really frightened for my father's sake and whatever mess he's gotten himself into."

He leans forward, tired eyes that withheld a subtle pain ached by his sickness, "He's been telling me about this figure he calls the Elder One. He says that we can trust him, that he has a way to cure me, with magic during the Tevinter Imperium before the First Blight!"

Dorian stills, a startled comprehension in his widened eyes, "That would make this figure more than just centuries old!" And for Alexius to not immediately think this figure is so explicitly conning him with sweet lies, then there must have been some immaculate proof, enough to fool his old mentor.

"Father seems to believe it, or wants to anyway, or maybe there is something about this person that should get not just you and me, but all of us concerned," Felix states somberly, "He wants us to eventually meet someday, but that he still needs to prepare and gather more things."

He clutches his hands together, "It's not just him. The Venatori are taking this person seriously as well, and they've been talking more and more about the Inquisition, specifically the Herald and the magic in her hand. They're definitely...interested in her."

'Well that's not good.' Dorian thinks to himself, the last thing anyone wants to have is the attention of the Venatori, a group that honestly makes the Qun look like best pals to drink and sleep with.

Felix continues, "The magic that she has, from what father told me, no member of the Circle, or any mage on Thedas, has ever dealt with it before, the Venatori are already conducting something to meet with her personally, and I can't see how well that's going to go for her and her group."

Dorian nods, "It won't be well at all. I can't say if her group have enough power to fend them off."

"Their Herald seems rather powerful though," Felix adds, "from what I've heard anyway."

"As have I," The Tevinter mage sets his back against the frame of the chair he sits in, a glimmer of thought shining in his eyes, "I've also heard she's no less than a teenager who wields an invisible golden sword. Maker knows if any story about her is true, but she certainly has gained quite a number of supporters and influences in Thedas."

"Knowing that look, you seem pretty interested in her as well," Felix assesses the face of his friend, a quirk of a smile as if the Tevinter mage was planning something rather devious in his head.

"If the few rumors are true that she's actually a handsome man, I might be so," Dorian japes. "Deal-breaker though if her young age turns out to be true. Either way, she'll need someone to help her against the Venatori."

A smile form behind his mustache, "I think it's high-time that we should meet with this Arturia Pendragon ourselves, before these oh so lovely cultists do."

He walks with quiet steps, as if they are not there.

Pressing hist feet against the cold stone as he hides along the shadows. Out of sight, out of the oblivious minds of those who pass by him, a pair of Templars discussing with each other, in idle talk and spoken wives or families that pray for their life to linger more in this world of disaster that walked among the earth, fallen from the sky asunder of magic that this world was not yet ready for.

His pointed hat pokes out from the corner as he leans over to see. When the hallway is empty as the Templars left to another area, he continues down the corridor, back against the wall and feeling the rough exterior with his physical capability of touch. Even years after forming as he is, touch is a strange phenomenon to him, and yet it is an oh so familiar thing, as if a nostalgia that hums in his mind.

"-Cole. Can you bring over those plates? Come help me clean them."

His memories prods him again. Well, his memories, than it is his. But they are one in the same, so now these are his as well, rather than it just being theirs together. Anxiety creeps in his heart; this is not something Cole does. The Cole who had lived a normal life before his life...

...Well, it is now his to continue living as.

He's been hearing other voices as well. Voices of the dead in the wind. Voices of many things. He's heard of her, that he has. The intruder, this plane's living riddle that wields a piece of his home in her palm. Helping people wherever she goes, she is an intruder welcomed.

He finds the door where he had been searching for. Quickly, and discreetly, he opens it, and enters silently, like a solid figure that moved like silk, entering the room as he closed the door behind him in subdued sounds.

"-the days are getting bleaker each time that sky rumbles, and the people panicking. The Mages are getting a foothold, it won't be long before we'll need to confront them at their next camp."

The hidden prowler takes hiding behind a table, observing the group of men in armors that gather together in this chamber where their beds lie. Before the Templars stands the atrocious creature in the human skin of the Lord Seeker, the outline of its existence so distinct in his eyes, of course, he is the only one in the room to see the Envy Demon.

Envy ushers towards the bag that lay on the bed to the rest of the grim-looking, and vice-taken Templars, "We must step up our game, men. We are Templars, we are the only ones Thedas, and this entire world, has left to depend on."

The disguised demon shows them a bag that upon opening, glowed immediate red of crystals inside, dark energy that made the observer's skin crawl and his literal spirit shudder.

A strain of Cole's jaw, he tenderly touches the hilt of his daggers out of humanly instinct and not with purposed thought, not realizing what he's doing at the sight of the evil being - another odd phenomenon he's slowly becoming used to as he lives in this body as Cole.

The Inquisition group trek down the road on their journey back to Haven. The hoods of their rain coat have fallen back as they left the rainy environment of the dreaded Fallow Mire, the leading yellow cloak of Arturia riding on her horse as the rest of the group follows behind her.

"I must say, the topic of the Old Gods is rather intriguing," Her Excalibur comments in her mind. "But is it likely that they have anything to do with your arrival here and the magic you wield in your hand?"

"I can't say. To be fair, you're probably my only source to ask such questions, but I imagine that you would have already mention something of it some time ago," Or perhaps he wouldn't, with the annoying reason to be that Excalibur doesn't seem perturbed by its freedom of vocal expression and comprehension now, and so thinks no relevance to how he achieved it after her use of mixing her weapon's holy status and the green magic of the mark.

"Fair enough. Unfortunately I have no such knowledge, not that I minded anyhow how I came to have sentience," Excalibur responds, "From what we have read, and on my own knowledge of my own creation in our original world. On one hand, which I do not have, it would take nothing less than a god or a being with enough power to transfer not only your soul, but grant you the body to exist without the necessity of having a Master holding your Command Seals as your anchor, thus you are no longer considered to be a Servant, and are now living your life anew, right from where you have left off."

Arturia frowns as she subconsciously clutches the reigns of her horse with her marked hand.

"On the other hand," Excalibur resumes, "which I also and still do not have, the Old Gods had been asleep, and would not wake until 'Blighted' by the Darkspawn in the Deep Roads in the Dwarven Kingdom."

"I must say, just as you have, the subject of the Old Gods have been fascinating. I can't seem to get my mind off of them for even a minute. I wonder if, maybe this is a hint that they do in fact have something to do with this, and has left their mark in me when I arrived here, beside the physical one that I have on me now." Could they have been the ones to disguised themselves as Irisviel? To lure her into this world?

Arturia releases the reigns from her marked hand and look at its palm, "What's more...whatever sort of body I am using, it is nothing natural, nothing like human. I'm even wondering if I truly have become something else, or if I am still in all accounts a Servant."

"Servants cannot exist without their anchor that are the Command Spells," As Excalibur more than recalls in his memories of her participation in the Fourth Grail War.

Arturia nods in agreement, "That is true, but perhaps there is an exception? What if something else were to give me a footing in this world? I do not know the system of it in more depth than what I have already been given by the Grail when I was summoned, but what if I simply need an anchor of any kind that doesn't have to be the Command Seals?"

"That scar on your hand."

She clutches her blouse beneath her armor, "If this scar is what's been keeping me present in this world, then it stands to reason that it's been providing me the magical energy keeping my Servant body existing. These are all theories, of course, but if they turn out to be correct..."

"Then for how long can the magic provide you energy, before it inevitably runs out?"

Will her life be snuffed out along with it?

"If it's true that the Mark is a piece of the Fade," Arturia thinks to her weapon, "a connection to that entire world of spirits and what I can imagine, an endless source of magic and prana, then I might live for as long as this body will hold up."

"Would it be on the same level as Avalon? I only know more of myself than I would to my, shall we say, brother in same enchanted materials, and much more so with Avalon, then I would with the magic of your Mark."

Her eyes narrow, "I do not know...this is something that I'll need to discuss with Solas, eventually."

"That might lead you to reveal not only your condition, but who and what you really are."

She takes a moment to contemplate this possibility before giving her response, "...The concepts of other worlds are not so incomprehensible, though clearly not something to this extent. If I gain enough of their trust, then I may need to tell them all."

"And how far has this trust extend? From theirs in you and yours in them?"

Her eyes soften, "That is something to be debated. I have grown rather fond of them, even if a few of them are...peculiar people, but whether they may be ready to hear the truth of myself, only time will tell for the right conditions to meet, when such a discussion must be had."

She hears the approach of hooves to her side and immediately drops all evidence of being deep in thought, returning both grip of her hands to the reigns of her horse. "My my, that's quite a focus you have in those lovely emerald eyes of yours."

Vivienne trots up by her lovely white horse of silver mane, having felt at ease for these ridden creatures to be brought after such a long journey through the muck-valley that they previously were in.

"You've been at that face for days now," The enchanter observes, "Is something the matter? I can lend an ear if you require it."

Pushing the subject of the Old Gods aside in her mind for now - as she's been on the topic far longer than what's considered to be healthy - she answers the female mage, "I'm just considering the new batch of food the Inquisition has brought it, and ways how they can be improved."

There's a subtle startle in Vivienne's dark brown eyes, revealing that's not the reason she expected. "Oh. I see."

"Is that a surprise?" Arturia catches on to her expecting gaze.

Vivienne relents, "Admittedly, yes. I had thought you would wish to talk about how your magic is progressing, or how the Fallow Mire will be under scrutiny security without our presence there." Or how the girl would like some inquiry from the experienced Enchanter to the supposed plan of a joined alliance between the Mages and the Templars, and hopefully dissuade the young knight from making such drastic actions.

Arturia answers collectedly, "I already have Solas to watch over my progression, and so far my practice and studies have been going smoothly. Cassandra and I, along with the other advisers, will be having a meeting to discuss what to do with the Fallow Mire tomorrow, but more importantly..."

She turns her head to look directly into the tall mage's eyes with a stern, determined stare, "We must procure ways to help improve the kitchens and chefs in the Inquisition, providing for our deserving soldiers top quality meals that are on par with the highest of delicacies, which I'm sure you must have experienced as noticed as well."

Vivienne slowly nods. She has tasted the food of their base and well...it is most certainly food, although to call it that took time to adjust. Vivienne is more than aware that food outside of Orlais would be different, frankly it is something to expect, and naturally prepped her stomach and taste buds for the worst of what these poor souls have to long digest and get used to.

To most of the people of the Inquisition who has led humble lives, it is acceptable and eatable, to Vivienne, she always ends up having to eat small portion, so that her stomach would not get so upset.

"I know very well of what you mean," The dark skinned mage responds tactically, "although, and I hope you won't take this to personal offense, it would be a difficult challenge to seek Orlesian-quality meals from the perspective of someone who has lived in a farm for most of her life. It's not your fault of course, people outside of Orlais can hardly tell the difference between what's food and what's good food."

Never has the Orelsian mage seen someone look so outright fended as Arturia currently does her comment, her lips slightly pursing so that the forming glare does not be obvious, and states back with a calm voice, "Then I must implore that you have a try at some of the meals I've conducted. I believe you will find them more than exceptional."

An amused grin quirks the corner of Vivienne's mouth before voicing her acceptance, "I would be more than delighted, if it means for you and I to spend time together, and get to know each other more."

"Count me in too!" A certain blonde haired elf startles the two women, Sera speeding up her own horse of chest-nut brown color and raising her hand eagerly, "I'll take any invitation if it involves free food. I don't need to bring in heels though, right? Or nothing frilly?"

The smile becomes more strained on Vivienne, when she looks back at Arturia, with the knight waiting for her response expectantly, clearly allowing her to express her comfort to Sera's participation. With a thought, and also perhaps a better understanding to this Red Jenny that has been making themselves known throughout certain areas of Orlais and Ferelden, Vivienne takes a moment to feign consideration.

"I suppose we can allow one more attendance," Decides Vivienne, "Casual wears are allowed, so long as if you can promise to show some etiquette at the table. I'm free all tomorrow afternoon and evening. I certainly hope your words are not simply that, Sir Arturia."

Arturia grins at the challenge sent her way, "On my honor as a knight, you will be impressed, my lady."

"Alright! Free food!" A whooping Sera ushers her horse behind theirs and moves to Arturia's side, and offers her raised hand which, by a few seconds later, Arturia steadily raises hers and they high-five. "Whoo!" Sera cheers.

Varric is heard restraining his laugh from the back. Cassandra gently punches his side for his reaction, Solas silently admiring the view of their environment. The Iron Bull lets out a quiet rumble of a chuckle, and Blackwall wondering if he should... but then decides to held back his tongue and not see if he can also be invited to their small dinner soiree.

'Quite a party this is.' Vivienne thoughtfully perceives, not finding this new fact of her life particularly a bad thing.

After another few hours, they finally arrive at Haven. With each respectively returning their horses to the stables, the group then disembark to their various ways throughout the campsite, Arturia bidding them with her own gratitude, hoping for all of them to rest well - and silently looking forward to their future endeavors together again - with many of them wishing her the same.

Cassandra leaves to report to the other advisors, Varric retires to his room, hoping to fill out his next journal with the abundance of ideas he has gathered and been inspired over the trip. The Iron Bull starts for the bar, and unexpectedly, inviting Blackwall to join him. The Grey Warden hesitates, but soon enough agrees, as he can clearly use a drink after scraping by from what he has so far lived from against undead and spirits. Sera goes with the worded goal of inexplicably gathering some chickens - no context further elaborated - and Vivienne excuses herself as well, leaving to recover from the long journey at her quarters.

Now alone with her magic tutor, Arturia turns to Solas as their surrounding camp bustles with activity, "And are you planning to retire for the day, Solas?"

Solas thinks for a moment, "It has been a long travel, but I wouldn't mind a little walk across the camp."

A friendly smile forms on the knight, "Then might I accompany you? If you do not mind."

"Not at all. I welcome it in fact."

And so together, they walk, the blonde knight and the elven mage. Passing by workers at their duty, and soldiers patrolling the area.

"You've been doing remarkable in your training, Arturia," Solas brings up. "I'm honestly impressed. Not many would be so quickly accustomed to the arcane, especially those who had no prior experience to wielding it. It's one thing that you used some magic to conceal your sword and summon your armor, it's another thing to expand beyond that. You have a natural talent for the arcane."

Arturia looks ahead in fond remembrance, one that also holds a hint of irritable compilations, "To be truthful, I had some telling of the arcane by an old friend. He was a mage like yourself. A bit too mischievous for his own good, but his heart was good and just, if only his ridiculous flaw is to fall for every woman he meets."

"Hm." Is all Solas hums for a moment, though it's obvious what he is hearing with quite a bit of interest, "And was he the one to teach you the abilities you had before?"

She ponders for a bit. "He has been a teacher to me," She vaguely reveals. "In more ways than one, he and my father had been a guidance for me, for as long as I can remember. He actually knew me since I was born. I suppose you could say he's been like another guardian of mine."

Solas nods as he comprehended her story, "So he is a family-friend."

Arturia considers her next words, "...More so of a family, I suppose. Even though I would sometimes fight the urge to hit him in the head, if only restrained to do so because it would be undignified and I would just end up taking his bait."

"Sounds like he was quite an eccentric."

"Perhaps not as outwardly eccentric as, say, Sera. He actually had a mellow personality, but just so happens to like to perform pranks some times, either to amuse himself, to test my patience and others, or it was simply to lighten the mood. In a way, he might have been a jester than he was a great magic-caster."

The knight slowly comes to a stop, looking up at the main building of Haven, with Solas sharing the view of it before examining her controlled expression. "One day, he disappeared. Without a word, without even a warning. The last I heard of him, he was visiting a forest, and I...searched for him."

She had sent numerous knights and scouts searching through and through that mystical forest where it was last said for that wizard to disappear to, but no such evidence, or even a scrap of his being, was ever recovered from that place. As if he had simply vanished from the rest of the world.

"I looked, and looked, for quite some time," A few months in between her leadership as king before evidently, she had to make the cold but necessary decision to abandon her search of the old wizard to focus her rule, it would have been wasteful to expend her soldiers and resources otherwise. "Merlin was always peculiar, but this was something that struck me as odd, even for him. I managed to keep it together, but deep down, I was discomforted and concerned."

And it did not go unnoticed that the entire kingdom, no matter the joy and happiness of her people in her mid-decade rule, felt emptier and with less life than before.

Her voice holds no grief, but there is indeed that sense of mystique, missing the person who had been there her whole life, and all she could only do is to accept it and move on. "To this day, I never knew what happened to him."

Not even the Grail could tell her. Of course, she wasn't a proper Heroic Spirit then, those who entered the Throne of Heroes would receive access to all information of many heroes who have lived, even beyond her time, but because she had refused to die, she did not enter that plane, and so is left unknowing of the fate of that wizard. And even then, it is uncertain if he has even entered the Throne of Heroes, as he had the capability to live for a very, very, very long time...but that is a meaningless thing to think of now.

Solas keeps his silence, but it is not done out of respect, but of knowing.

In his time of meditation and listening to the voices of the Fade when joined by Mythal, he's heard stories being whispered between the spirits. Stories of other realms, worlds of settings that are far different or so similar to this one, with advanced construction to society of magic's depleted existence, to countries where magic is forbidden and even outlawed, to worlds where there only lies destruction, and there only lies peace, and so forth.

One such story he has been told and shown by the All-Mother, long time ago, is a story of a chosen king, the only to have pulled a magic sword out of the stone, and proclaiming his fate as the next future ruler that will save his country and the people. Guided by the great wizard, and the destiny the once and future king held with a new sword and its name forever immortalize along with this ruler, the legend, tales, and tragedy of the legendary King of Knights traverse beyond time and space.

Of course, he does well to not let himself be discovered that he suspects this much. Nor allow the surprise to come when he found out the true gender of the King of Camelot, as he understood enough that during those times, a female ruler was considered a bad omen, and he could already see the many reasons for why the true identity of King Arthur was kept as so. Although, it isn't a stretch to say that it could have been simply one version of the legendary King that Mythal had introduce him to, as he, her, and the others were also aware of there being multiple dimensions of different scenarios.

But he has certainly heard of Merlin, and what became of the great wizard. Many stories tell of his fate, with one telling of his eternal slumber, the other telling of his eternal waiting for his great king to return. One story even suggest that he is helping a group of teens with other great warriors to save humanity by exploring through every anomalies in history - that one was certainly an interesting tell.

But most definitely, that Merlin's fate had been the same. Stories of the Fade tells that the grand wizard did indeed had quite an...affection for women, a quality that became his downfall with some stories telling that he was lured into a trap, and was sealed for centuries, and it is unknown when, or if ever he had truly escaped his sealing.

He suspects Arturia would not like to hear that, furthermore that he would reveal his awareness of her true identity. Perhaps, in time, when the right moment calls for it, he shall tell her, but for now, if she is ready to divulge her own secret to not only him but perhaps to the rest of the Inquisition members, then he shall keep hold of his knowledge.

"I do not doubt that that man has gotten himself into something that was probably his own fault, otherwise, I couldn't see him be so easily bested," Arturia goes on somberly, snapping the elf out of his inner thoughts, "But never mind what was long past. I can only pray of his well-being, and if something did happen, then I hope he is at peace."

A long acceptance to what is otherwise a sad departure of a long-time friend and family she never got the chance to say goodbye to. There is only the the present and the future that awaits them all, and the least she can do is fulfill the promise she made to him, that oath she gave before pulling Caliburn from the stone, one which she has almost broke due to her own failures that were too much for her to accept. Hopefully, God be willing, that she will not attempt to dishonor her word to that mischievous wizard again.

They continue their walk then, a brief silence between before Arturia delved into another subject to talk about, something more light-hearted. "What are your thoughts of our new recruits? The Iron Bull and Vivienne."

Solas takes a moment to answer, and when he did, it is with a very controlled face, a neutral tone, "The Iron Bull and Vivienne have both shown to be very promising to the Inquisition. With the Iron Bull's strength and resources, Vivienne's talent and mastery over her abilities. I can say that they are both capable allies."

He then steadily adds, "I, however, will say that there may be times when I might not agree with them on some occasions, with their affiliations to their groups. I suspect there will be moments where we may be, as Varric might say, "budding-heads" with one another, but I believe we all have enough sense of professionalism to keep personal opinions out of matters that requires our teamwork, compliance and survival. However, I cannot promise that I may refrain my true thoughts should it come up, I have my own views with the Qun and the Circle."

Arturia nods in understanding, "I certainly hope that, despite our own separate point of views, that we may all get along and work well together. I will not chastise you or them for speaking your true feelings or beliefs, so long as it can be exchanged without compromising our goals."

"I hope for that as well," Solas sighs.

Arturia then adds with a slight smile, "I also wish to thank you for your teaching guidance, Solas. I can honestly say that these last few days, I've been able to find a calming presence in this marked hand of mine," she raises said hand and looks at it. "I honestly never saw myself as a mage, but now, I'm beginning to see the appeal of it," she turns to him fully, stopping which prompts him to do the same, with honest words, she gratefully says, "I look forward to our future lessons together."

With a smile he barely managed to bring forth and a heart carrying guilt, Solas nods, "And I certainly look forward to see how much more you may improve, Arturia."

With that, Arturia decides it best to retire for today. With parting words of good resting, Arturia bids Solas well and she starts for her place. Solas watches her leave quietly, and to himself, he ponders.

If she is in fact from another world, that she could come from and to other dimensions, then surely...surely, this will only assure success in his mission, though it won't be without a terrible cost.

He turns to resume his walking, keeping his rising regret and shame at heart's bay.

"...Is it me, or is there something strange with Solas?" Arturia quietly asks her Excalibur.

The Excalibur harrumphs, "Nothing unusual with that sort of person."

She frowns, though not in disapproval, but a hint of agreeing, "True enough, but I can't help but feel..." She looks back at where she had spoken with Solas, "He is mysterious and stoic, and yet, there is a hint of trouble in his eyes I can't help but notice again and again."

The kind of eyes as if he is carrying a heavy burden, a burden he is willing to carry out and fulfill with a hurtful heart. That sort of burden which she is all too familiar with, one that would be like looking at a mirror...

And what reminds her of Kiritsugu.

And that leaves her with a very, very worrying feeling.