Chapter Text
From the Journal of Researcher Minaeve
In hindsight, I should never have told the Inquisitor that I liked the outdoors. I clarified my statement, but the damage was done.
I had a relatively safe and absolutely perfect research position here. Any book I needed was mine for the asking in a matter of weeks. Every one of Empress Celene’s own magical advisors has quit her service to lend their knowledge to the Inquisition. I could just walk up and talk to them! Dennet of Redcliffe, who was proving to be nearly as knowledgeable on the topic of dracolisks as he is on horses, traded his considerable knowledge for fresh apples and help with the exotics now and then. Not only did I have every resource I could hope for to aid my research, but specimens and observations flooded in from all over Thedas for my study every day. The Inquisitor herself delivered samples and first hand reports to ME. My discoveries were helping Seeker Penteghast and the Inquisitor bring order out of this chaos. I might be a nameless Circle apprentice, but I was keeping Inquisition soldiers safe, informed, and well armed.
Well, in the morning I’m leaving that world behind to work in the field with an absent-minded Orlesian professor who twice mistook me for a servant and an earnest but inexperienced Templar recruit. I don’t know if I did my job too well or not well enough.
When I first heard about my new assignment, I was excited. I’ll be working with the author of A Study of the Southern Draconids, himself! I’d probably still be excited if I hadn’t just met the man.
Frederic of Serault is the kind of eccentric that would be called crazy in someone without wealth. He’s head to toe crimson and I mean that literally. He actually wears one of those ridiculous Orlesian masks that covers his entire head. In Skyhold, he stands out like a bright cardinal on a pine branch. Out in the wild, I imagine he’ll be trampled by an enraged Druffalo or shot by a dozen different Venatori marksmen inside the first week. He’s a giant red porcelain chin that chatters to himself constantly and has no idea what’s happening around him. The things that he chatters are quite intriguing, though. I think he was arguing with the author of the book he was reading while we waited to submit our requisitions to the quartermaster. If Baron Havard-Pierre D’Amortisan had actually been there to argue back, it would really have been something.
Our guardian on this trip is much quieter. I’d met Lysette several times in Haven. She appeared at the Chantry every evening as I was leaving, for vespers, I suppose. She has a trace of an Orlesian accent and the fancier Templar armor to go with it, but seems otherwise unafflicted with Orlesian frippery, possibly because of a youth spent in Denerim. I’m glad she’s coming with us. Between the explosion at the Conclave, the hostilities with rebel mages, and the slow poisoning of the Order with red lyrium, there are precious few Templars left this far south. I’m surprised the Inquisition could spare us even a recruit. A couple of scholars might not be missed with so many great minds flocking to the Inquisition banner, but we can ill afford to lose even one good Templar from the war effort.
I will sleep better tonight knowing she’ll be with us tomorrow.
The one I'll be happiest to see in the morning, though, is “Smiley”. The Inquisitor still hasn’t seen fit to name him, so my nickname stuck. Until we brought Smiley back from Hunter Shade I’d never seen a dracolisk. I didn’t expect the osteoderms to clash in coloration from the underlying epidermis. They don’t in most draconids. The effect is very striking, as are his intelligent yellow eyes. I’ve been working with him for weeks now and still every time I see him, I can’t believe he’s a real, live, creature until he moves. He’s still new to to the saddle. I don’t know if he’s ready for a trip like this. I don’t know if I am either. I guess we’re both as trained as we’re going to be. The Professor came to us on a Dracolisk and since horses don’t like to be around them, we’ll all be riding out on dracolisks instead. Master Pavus has offered his personal steed, a predominantly black basking longma, Solia, for our use and another recently taken from a Venatori camp will be carrying our equipment. Dennet’s horses will no doubt be relieved when we’ve removed all the predators from the stables.