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As they left the war room, Daniel couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. The Hinterlands awaited. And with them, the first true test of whether the Inquisition—and its unlikely Herald—could survive what was coming.
The crisp mountain air hit Daniel's face as he stepped out of the Chantry, the weight of the war council's plans still settling in his mind. The Breach loomed above, its eerie green glow a constant reminder of what was at stake. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.
Before he could decide where to go next, Cassandra's voice called out behind him.
"Herald."
He turned to see her approaching, her stride purposeful as always. She stopped before him, arms crossed, her dark eyes scanning him with that familiar intensity.
"Before you leave for the Hinterlands, you should take some time to walk around Haven," she said. "Get to know the place—and its people."
Daniel blinked. "You want me to... sightsee?"
Cassandra's lips twitched—almost a smile, but not quite. "I want you to understand what we're fighting for. These people look to you now. They should know their Herald sees them as more than just numbers on a report."
That made sense. He nodded. "Alright. Where should I start?"
Cassandra gestured toward the bustling village. "Speak with Haven's best and brightest. Harrit the blacksmith, Threnn the quartermaster, Adan the apothecary. They each have their role in keeping the Inquisition running, and they'll have insights you won't find in war councils."
Daniel smirked. "So you're saying I should actually talk to the people doing the real work?"
Cassandra huffed, but there was no real irritation in it. "I'm saying that an Inquisition built only on the words of its leaders will not last. The people must believe in it—and in you."
That sobered him. "Right. No pressure."
She gave him a firm nod. "If you need me, I'll be at the training grounds outside the gates. We leave for the Hinterlands soon—use this time wisely."
With that, she turned and strode away, her armor glinting in the morning light.
Daniel exhaled, watching her go before turning his attention to Haven proper. The village was alive with activity—soldiers drilling, craftsmen hammering away at their work, Chantry sisters moving between the wounded. The weight of expectation settled on his shoulders again, but this time, it felt different. Less like a burden, more like... a responsibility.
Daniel made his way toward the requisitions camp that positioned near the Chantry steps, where Threnn stood surrounded by crates and supply lists. The quartermaster was a woman who carried herself with the no-nonsense efficiency of someone who had spent years keeping armies fed and equipped. Her sharp eyes darted between scrolls as she barked orders to a young recruit struggling under the weight of a sack of grain.
As Daniel approached, Threnn didn't even look up.
"If you're here to clean, Hess can get you a bucket and a broom," she said briskly. "Anyone calls you 'knife-ear,' you come to me."
Then, finally glancing up, she blinked in surprise. "Oh. You're him." She straightened slightly, though her tone remained matter-of-fact. "Threnn, Inquisition Quartermaster. I'm doing what I can to supply this mess. If you find what I need to fill one of my requisitions, I'd appreciate you bringing it in."
Daniel tilted his head. "What did you mean when you mentioned requisitions?"
Threnn exhaled, as if explaining the obvious to someone who had never seen a supply line before. "I'm making this Inquisition run with what we have, but we're not a real army. We're stretched thin on materials, so I've put up requisition lists for anything that could help our people." She grabbed a nearby parchment and thrust it toward him. "Here, take a look. You find some iron and a good logging site, maybe Harritt can get our troops better weapons."
Daniel scanned the list—basic but vital supplies. Iron, lumber, herbs. The bones of an army.
"If I have material for a special order, do I bring it to you?" he asked.
Threnn waved a hand toward a nearby table where a young man was scribbling notes. "Just take it over there. One of my boys will take the materials or jot down what you found."
Daniel nodded, then hesitated. "What do you do here, exactly?"
Threnn gave him a look that suggested she thought the question was either stupid or insulting. "I make sure the Inquisition troops have food in their bellies and iron in their hands. Both are important." She folded her arms. "Lot of people expecting us to be heroes, marching all day to fight the demons. Turns out heroes need to dig latrines just like everyone else."
Daniel smirked. "Fair point."
Something in her expression softened slightly, just for a moment. Then, curiosity getting the better of him, he asked, "How does someone end up as quartermaster for the Inquisition?"
Threnn's jaw tightened, and for the first time, Daniel saw something flicker in her eyes—something guarded, almost defensive. "I served Ferelden under Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir," she said, her voice low but firm. "Best commanding officer this world has ever seen."
Daniel knew enough about Ferelden's recent history to recognize the weight behind those words. The Battle of Ostagar, the betrayal—or what many called a betrayal.
Threnn continued, her tone edged with bitterness. "After they all turned on him at Denerim, though, there wasn't much use for people who held that opinion. Queen Anora offered my services to the Inquisition. It was a kindness; she knew I supported her father and got me away from the political garbage."
Daniel studied her for a moment. There was loyalty there, fierce and unshaken, even after everything. "Your loyalty to the man you served is admirable, quartermaster."
Threnn's shoulders relaxed slightly, though her voice remained sharp. "Thank you. A lot of people seem to think they know what happened at Ostagar... but I was there." Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. "Teyrn Loghain never betrayed his king. If he'd brought the reinforcements, darkspawn would have just killed everyone. He did what he had to do to save our country... and we betrayed him."
Her words came faster now, as if she had been holding them back for years. "King Cailan overextended his position, and the Grey Wardens were too late lighting the signal. Following the original plan would have gotten everyone killed! Teyrn Loghain made the right decision."
Then, abruptly, she cut herself off, shaking her head. "I... apologize. Sister Leliana told me I shouldn't talk about this. Just forget it."
Daniel didn't press further. He could see the old wounds there, raw even now. Instead, he simply nodded. "Farewell, Threnn."
She exhaled, some of the tension leaving her. "Maker go with you."
Daniel moved to the nearby requisitions table, where a young soldier—Hess, presumably—was sorting through supply lists. He glanced at the topmost sheet:
Inquisition Weapons
Required: Logging Stand, 5 Iron
Simple enough. If they could secure those, Harritt could arm their soldiers properly. Daniel made a mental note to keep an eye out for resources in the Hinterlands.
His next stop was Adan's apothecary hut, tucked away near the Chantry. The moment Daniel stepped inside, the sharp scent of herbs and something faintly alcoholic hit him. The place was cluttered—jars of dried plants, bubbling potions, and half-finished tinctures lined every available surface.
Daniel stepped further into the cluttered hut just as Adan finished speaking to a harried-looking recruit. The alchemist turned, spotting him, and let out a dry laugh.
"Look who's back from the dead. Again."
Daniel blinked. "I don't recall meeting you before."
Adan snorted, wiping his hands on a stained rag. "I'd be surprised if you did. You weren't particularly coherent." He tossed the rag aside and crossed his arms. "Someone had to patch you up after you staggered out of Maker-knows-where, though, so you're welcome."
Understanding dawned on Daniel. This was the man who had tended to him after the explosion at the Conclave.
"I didn't realize you were the one who tended to me while I was injured," Daniel said, offering a respectful nod. "Thank you."
Adan waved a hand dismissively, though there was a flicker of something—pride, maybe—in his expression. "Yeah, well. You can pay me back by fixing the world." He jerked his chin toward the shelves of ingredients. "Name's Adan. I'm in charge of keeping our little band here stocked with potions and elixirs. Not that Seeker Pentaghast seems to care whether we've got the supplies to actually do that."
Daniel smirked. "For a healer, you don't seem particularly nurturing."
Adan shot him a glare. "I'm not a healer. I'm an alchemist who's forced to play mother hen." He gestured emphatically at a row of volatile-looking vials. "You want something to burst into flame on contact with the air? Done. Gladly. Patching up wounded soldiers is a waste of my time and talents... but there are few around who can help."
Daniel couldn't help but chuckle. Adan's gruff demeanor was oddly refreshing after the weight of so many deferential greetings.
"How are your people holding up?" he asked.
Adan sighed, rubbing his temples. "There's no shortage of work, that's for damn sure." He gestured to the wounded scattered around Haven. "Every time that Breach spits out another demon, we get a fresh batch of idiots who think they can take one on with a butter knife and prayers."
Daniel glanced at the potion-laden shelves. "How do I go about having potions made?"
Adan motioned toward a nearby table cluttered with notes and ingredients. "Just take a look there and tell me what you'd like. Find a recipe for something better, I can make that, too."
He rummaged through a stack of papers before thrusting one at Daniel. "Here. Basic regeneration potion. Simple enough even a recruit could brew it—if they didn't keep blowing themselves up."
Daniel took the recipe, scanning the instructions. "Is there anything I can do to help out?"
Adan gave him a long look before shaking his head. "We're fine as far as raw labor goes. You've more important things to do than tend to me." He hesitated, then added, "I only wish I'd been able to find Master Taigen's notes. Old bastard was working on something special. He died at the Conclave, and his notes weren't here. Been too busy dealing with the wounded to look for them."
Daniel filed that away for later. If they came across anything in their travels, he'd make sure to bring it back.
"I'll keep an eye out," he promised.
Adan grunted in acknowledgment, already turning back to his work. "Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a batch of salves that won't brew themselves."
Daniel moved to the potion table, examining the recipe Adan had given him.
Regeneration Potion
Required: 1 Elfroot
Simple enough. He checked his inventory—he had eight elfroot on hand. Enough for several batches.
He set to work, carefully following the instructions. Crush the elfroot into a paste, mix it with purified water, heat it just enough to bind the properties without boiling away the essence. The process was methodical, almost meditative.
One potion. Then another.
By the fifth, his movements were smooth, practiced. The liquid shimmered faintly as he poured it into vials, sealing them with wax.
Adan glanced over from where he was grinding something in his mortar. "Huh. Not bad. Maybe there's hope for you yet."
Daniel smirked. "High praise."
Adan snorted. "Don't let it go to your head."
As Daniel left the apothecary, the newly brewed potions secure in his inventory, he took a moment to survey Haven. The sun was beginning its descent, casting long shadows across the snow.
Daniel paused outside the apothecary's hut, the crisp mountain air sharp against his skin. He reached into his pack, fingers brushing against the smooth glass vials of freshly brewed regeneration potions. Pulling one out, he examined it closely—the liquid inside glowed faintly, swirling with a luminescent green hue that reminded him uncomfortably of the Breach above.
As he turned the vial in his hands, the interface materialized before his eyes, displaying crisp text:
[Regeneration Potion]
[Effect: Heals minor to moderate injuries over several seconds]
[Duration: 8 seconds]
[Application: Consume orally or apply directly to wounds]
The description was straightforward, clinical even, but Daniel couldn't help marveling at how seamlessly this "system" integrated with his reality. The potion felt weighty in his palm, its glass cool to the touch, while the floating text remained ethereal—there but not quite tangible. He wondered if others could see these interfaces or if they existed solely for him.
A sudden commotion near the gates drew his attention—a group of soldiers returning from patrol, one limping heavily with a bloodied bandage around his thigh. Daniel's grip tightened around the potion. This wasn't just game inventory anymore. These would mean the difference between life and death for real people.
Daniel made his way toward the training grounds outside Haven's gates, the rhythmic clang of steel on steel growing louder with each step. The crisp mountain air carried the scent of burning coal and hot metal, mingling with the sharp tang of sweat from the soldiers drilling nearby.
To his left stood the blacksmith's forge, a sturdy wooden structure with an open front, its interior glowing orange from the roaring furnace. A burly man with arms like tree trunks stood at the anvil, hammering a red-hot blade into shape. His face was smeared with soot, his leather apron scorched from years of work.
As Daniel approached, the blacksmith glanced up, his eyes narrowing against the glare of the fire before recognition flickered across his face. He set down his hammer and wiped his hands on his apron.
"Expected you'd be by," he said, his voice rough but not unfriendly. "I'm Harritt… and everyone knows who you are." He gave Daniel an appraising look. "How's the new gear fit?"
Daniel adjusted the straps of his Light Armor of the Dragon, the leather still stiff from recent crafting. "It's not exactly what I'm used to."
Harritt let out a gruff chuckle. "Too used to sparkly dress armors, your lordship?"
Daniel smirked. "Something like that."
Harritt's expression sobered as he gestured to the weapons rack beside him. "World's gone mad. Stock armor and blades are good against bandits, but we're not fighting bandits." He picked up a freshly forged sword, testing its edge before nodding in satisfaction. "My gear will see you through demons, apostates, whatever this world throws at you."
He set the blade down and crossed his arms. "So, you need custom work? Something special? You bring the materials to us, we'll make it happen."
Daniel studied the smith for a moment. There was a weariness in Harritt's eyes, but also a stubborn determination. "How did you come to be here?"
Harritt exhaled, wiping soot from his brow. "Come from a little town called Lothering. Long gone now." His voice carried the weight of old grief. "I was in Redcliffe when the darkspawn hit it during the Blight. Helped rebuild. Left when royalty decided it was time to hand the place over to the bloody mages." He paused, then added with grudging respect, "Then again, fair's fair. It was one of them that stopped the Blight and all."
He shook his head. "Ended up here. Just missed the boom." A wry smile tugged at his lips. "Can't decide if I'm the luckiest son of a bitch walking, or the exact opposite."
Daniel chuckled. "You're still walking. That's always good."
Harritt nodded. "True enough."
Daniel turned the conversation back to practical matters. "Who outfits the Inquisition's soldiers?"
Harritt snorted. "Not me. I've got work to do. Can't be passing a sword to every blighter who signs up." He jerked his thumb toward the Chantry. "If you want to help the troops, talk to Threnn, the quartermaster. She'll set up requisitions."
Daniel frowned. "Does the Inquisition not have supplies to make armor or weapons?"
Harritt's expression darkened. "Tough convincing traders to haul up here. Impossible to get them to risk the rare stuff, so that's on you."
Daniel glanced at the forge, where an apprentice was carefully quenching a newly shaped breastplate in oil. "What can you and your team make here?"
Harritt followed his gaze. "Arms and armor. We work iron to blighted dragonbone, if you've got it." He shrugged. "Our designs are simple, but they get the job done. You want something fancy, bring your own design. We'll see what we can do."
Daniel flexed his fingers, the mark on his hand pulsing faintly. "Can you help improve my arms and armor?"
Harritt nodded. "Yes. You find a new piece, a pauldron or greaves, we'll take care of you." He pointed a calloused finger at Daniel's sword. "You can't just slap a new hilt on your sword in the field. Bring it here, we'll make sure it's done right and proper."
Daniel hesitated, then asked, "If I want something, what can you make?"
Harritt motioned toward a nearby table laden with weapon and armor schematics. "Start simple. Something to keep you safe." He flipped open a ledger, revealing rough sketches of various designs. "Take a look at what's on the table there, and we can talk." He smirked. "You'll need materials. We should have what you want just outside."
Daniel examined the schematics—basic but sturdy designs, each annotated with notes on required materials and estimated durability. A particular set of reinforced gauntlets caught his eye, the design promising better grip and protection without sacrificing mobility.
"These," he said, tapping the page.
Harritt leaned over, nodding approvingly. "Good choice. You'll need three units of iron and some hardened leather. Plenty of that around if you know where to look."
Daniel made a mental note. The Hinterlands would be ripe for scavenging.
As he turned to leave, Harritt called after him, "Herald."
Daniel paused, looking back.
The blacksmith's expression was unreadable for a moment before he finally said, "Don't die out there. Bad for business."
Daniel smirked. "I'll do my best."
Harritt grunted and returned to his forge, the rhythmic clang of hammer on steel resuming as if their conversation had never happened.
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Name : Daniel Carter
Race: Elf
Level 2 : 171/1250 EXP
Professions: Mage
Gold Coins: 680 Coins
Weapon: Staff of the Dragon
Armor: Light Armor of the Dragon and Templar Scribe Scowl
Accessories: Lifeward Amulet
Inventory: Acolyte Ice Staff, Morning Star, Stiletto, Hunting Longbow, Fire Resistance Cowl, Mercenary Coat, Acolyte Fire Staff, and Disciple Lighting Staff
Crafting Materials: 3 Elfroot, 6 Iron, 2 Blue Vitriol, and 1 Dawn Lotus
Valuables: Aquamarine, Silver Bracelet, Figurine of Maferath the Betrayer, 2 Shadow Essence, and Gurn Gallstone Charm
Potions: Lesser Health Potions x8 and Lesser Regeneration Potions x5
Skills: Chain Lighting, Flashfire, Barrier,
Armor Schematics: Shokra-taar Schematic, Antaam-saar Schematic, Avvar Armor Schematics Acquired, and Stone-Bear Armor Schematics
Potion Recipe: Lesser Regeneration Potion recipe