faderift | What Has Been Forgotten Has Not Yet Been Lost

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What Has Been Forgotten Has Not Yet Been Lost

WHO: Aleron and Malcolm Reed, then Cullen Rutherford
WHAT: Aleron shows up at Skyhold looking for answers.
WHEN: Guardian 20
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Possible wallowing in guilt for failures past.

For Malcolm
In a different time, under different circumstances, Aleron could have appreciated the mountain fortress laid before him and the landscape that surrounded it. The skies are clear and blue, air fresh and free of the stench of slaughter and warmongering that lingers in the world below. Skyhold is far removed from so much that plagues Thedas that it would almost be easy to forget those troubles. Almost.

The Seeker rides through the main gates in the early afternoon, his mount picking its way carefully around pilgrims and refugees traveling on foot. Valiente is too well-trained to startle, even when the press of humanity is tight in the approach. If only the rider had the calm of the horse. His mind is torn. The world has been turned upside down, jumbled into chaos, and in its wake left much of humanity fearful and confused.

Aleron refuses to acknowledge fear, much less buckle to it, but consternation of where his duty lay now continues to assail him.

Regardless, as he dismounts, Aleron has not gone unnoticed. Whispers start up about 'another Seeker' and those that reach his ears make him hope that the others have also made their way here. At the very least, he'd heard of two known to be with the Inquisition, and it is with these comrades he hopes to confer and determine where his service should be. He spends his first hour in Skyhold inquiring where to find his brethren and watching some of the present troops give him a wide berth. Eventually someone points him where to find Seeker Reed.

And that is an excellent start.

For Cullen
There is another old acquaintance present which Aleron knows of. He'd like to think they'd established enough camaraderie to even be considered friends. That is a matter of some debate. It is the standard reservations of Seekers versus Templars. He's all too used to watching Templars cringe when he arrives anywhere, and he wonders if Commander Rutherford will feel the same.

Strange to think of him as such. Not that Cullen wasn't entirely capable of the rank. But it is difficult to wrap his mind around the man having left the Templar Order. These days seem to find too many people abandoning their vows and obligations.

However, they'd worked well together when he'd been in Kirkwall, relocating the Starkhaven Circle when it burned to the ground. Kirkwall. Not for the first time, Aleron considers that he should have seen the problems when he was there. He had looked, but not hard enough. A failure that's caused more death than he can ever wash clean.

With those heavy thoughts, he follows the directions provided, up the stairs to the battlements where Cullen's office is.

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Word does, at times, travel fast, especially with so many people. While Aleron gets pointed in Malcolm's direction, Malcolm also catches wind of 'another Seeker' murmured around. He would hardly admit to paying attention to the gossip and the grapevine, but it is a good way of gathering the goings-on around Skyhold and the rest of Thedas.

They nearly pass each other, though it's hard to miss the face of an old acquaintance, much less the Seeker armour they both sport. "Seeker Darton," he greets with a modicum of surprise. Though of all fellow Seekers to not only survive but be on the right side (and it's so difficult to know which side that is anymore), he supposes it would be Aleron. "I'm glad to see another friendly face around here, though I've little doubt the Templars think otherwise. Have you only just arrived?"

"Seeker Reed," he replies with what could pass for the most excitement anyone is like to see from him outside of an untapped library. Which is to say, not much more than the barest hint of a smile, a nod of greeting and reaching out to clap a hand around Malcolm's forearm. It is excitement for Aleron though, or more precisely relief. Someone familiar to him that he trusts. "I've not yet been in the gates more than an hour. Saw my horse stabled and started the search for the mystery second Seeker in residence."

He breathes out a sigh and rests his hands on his hips, scrutinizing the fortress now that he's inside it. There's sections in desperate need of repair, though the majority of it appears solid at a glance. The location's certainly defensible. "Are there truly no others here?"

He's definitely been making and keeping and altering notes on the repairs or lack thereof. It's an ongoing effort, and he's considering making a more organized push for resources and workers. "You're our mystery third Seeker, in fact. Lady Cassandra herself presides as one of the heads of this Inquisition. But the number is only three indeed."

Malcolm's normally stern expression grows worried. "I fear we may only see a few more and that the rest of our number has walked a less appropriate path." Though Lord Seeker Lambert was, at the time, their leader, to blindly follow? His feelings on that sort of matter have been made clear enough to most. "But that is a problem we will have to deal with...later." Can plan for, of course, but he doesn't even know where the bulk of their forces have moved to. If they don't tear themselves apart or get torn asunder in the chaos, one force will meet the other inevitably.

He shakes the look away, back to a pleasant-leaning neutrality. He is pleased to see the likes of Aleron here. "I have only arrived within the month, so I do suggest making yourself known to Lady Cassandra as soon as you can." Yes, she hates the 'Lady' title. But he doesn't care. Though he doesn't use it out of any sense of her distant, distant nobility; rather, he considers her Lady Seeker, truly, of their forces.

That alone was more than enough information to confirm much of what Aleron's suspected while he's been away. Cassandra is a leader of this movement, Seekers have strayed from the righteous path and motives (which is profoundly disturbing), and that there are questions about where and what the others are doing. He hears too that Malcolm expects some sort of confrontation, which is something he's both suspected himself and dreaded. Warring amongst themselves does not contribute to restoration of the peace. For a brief, bitter moment, he almost wishes he'd capitulated to his mother's pleading and stayed with her in Orlais. The Game could almost be preferable to what is likely to come. Only he tired of being one of her pawns.

Those grim thoughts are firmly shoved away to more pertinent matters at hand. Lady Cassandra, her movement that is shaking Thedas, and its legitimacy. If Malcolm's signed on, that's a good sign of being the right path. But Aleron still needs to know. "I will do so immediately."

There's a pause and then Aleron angles so that he's closer in such a way that they are unlikely to be overheard. Not with lowered voices and the general clangs and clatter that surrounds them.

"I trust her and her judgement. But I must ask: did the Divine truly order this Inquisition? I discounted Lord Seeker Lambert's orders as a falsehood when I first heard of them, only to find later they were true, and the world thrown into chaos. Too many people speak freely of the decisions of others and act upon them without first verifying their validity and it's led to chaos."

If he's to stay here, he has to know it's for the right reasons.

"She is currently held up in Emprise du Lion, as are many of the Inquisition's number. Nasty mission full of red lyrium." Malcolm's nose wrinkles in distaste. He decided, new as he was, to hold down the fort, as it were, and let more coherent forces do their job. He'd prefer it if Aleron did the same, at least initially, instead of running off after her.

He lowers his voice conspiratorially to match the newly quiet nature of their conversation. Aleron has always been a good, smart fellow, a kindred spirit in a way. And, truly, a seeker of the truth. "I have not seen any official writ or document," he replies slowly, disliking one of the reasons the Chantry has seen fit to turn their backs on the Inquisition. "But if both the Right and Left Hands say it is so? Given Most Holy's history, I find it in line that she might have had a backup plan in case the Conclave didn't work out." A sombre pause. "I'm sure she didn't imagine the Conclave being so disastrous."

Malcolm's line of reasoning is sound. It seems unlikely that both women would concoct a false directive from Most Holy. That and there is a good point to be had that it seems in line with much of the other decisions she had made while living. Aleron nods, agreeing with the conclusion his fellow has reached. It's enough for now, though he will ask Cassandra later when he reports in.

"I doubt anyone could have conceived it so." Except the perpetrator, perhaps.

Where the Lady Pentaghast is at present gives him pause. Not for the location but for the purpose. "Red lyrium? I thought that contained to Kirkwall in the Gallows." Meredith's use of the substance is well-known and the stuff of nightmares. Why would it be an issue in Orlais?

"I will be honest with you, I don't know the specifics. The Inquisition has been busy, even in the wake of the Herald's death, and new information flows in and out every day. I didn't join the mission for the sake of allowing her command as she sees fit and to better integrate myself in life within these walls. The last thing I need to be doing is stumbling into the first thing I see without any trust or an adequate understanding of the situation."

Still. Red lyrium is absolutely part of the equation, that much he knows for certain. "I fear the issue of the horrid substance is farther spread than Kirkwall. There have been occasional reports through Ferelden, through Orlais--the timing is unfortunate. Suspicious. Perhaps our enemy has some hand in this. Or perhaps the world really is starting to come to an end."

He listens, closely, intently, weighing and absorbing every word. To do so has been remarkably well-trained in him, though it's true to his nature. Aleron trusts Malcolm. Well... trusted all the Seekers until clearly they went mad. But this one he trusts still and that is the pertinent issue. Things are bad, very bad, if Reed thinks this is the start of the end of the world.

"Maker's breath. Why now of all times? Orlais is busy slaughtering itself from the inside and the Veil has been torn." Not to mention the Mage-Templar conflict raging. There is a great deal of chaos all at one time. There is truly only one conclusion to be reached about the red lyrium's spread. "It cannot be coincidence."

There is much destruction and discord in the Chant as a herald of the Maker's return. The words of Exaltations 1 come to mind and Aleron looks up to the sky and murmurs, "Or it's a sign of the Maker's return to us." Faith springs up anew within him, lighting a sense of hope in that possibility.

"I suggested as much to her, the lack of coincidence. And we spoke of His involvement in all this." Malcolm shakes his head. Good to have hope, faith. His faith wears armour, steady and sure and nigh unshakeable, but his hope? That is secreted away and well guarded, behind many locked doors and stone walls.

"We cannot wait for the Maker to set foot upon the world. There is much to be done here and now, in this mortal realm. We have enemies, and they need slain. We have doubters and naysayers, and we will convince them. And in the wake of the Herald's passing, people like you and I and those who devote themselves to the Inquisition are needed now more than ever before. We are not men of inaction. It would be a boring and lazy life if we were."

Cullen's never had anything against Seekers. They do their job, much like the Templars do, and should their jobs coincide, then it does. He can't say that he's never had a problem - some seekers think that they're above Templars, and while those certain individuals may require a good hit to the back of the head, he knows there are others who are down to earth.

Aleron comes upon Cullen just as he's exiting his office, in mind to head down for another meeting with his fellow advisers. Another hour of them arguing about something or another, as they seemed to do as of late. If only they weren't all so stubborn.

"Seeker Darton?" It'd been some time since Cullen had seen the man - Kirkwall, years ago. But he had found him level-headed and someone easy enough to talk to.

"Commander Rutherford." It's an animated greeting... for Aleron. No smiles, but the man never smiles. Product of his exceptionally strict rearing, mostly. Some of it is simply his nature, though he finds himself capable of being amiable with people he's come to know over time. Cullen is one such person. "I'd heard you were here and leading the charge. Came to see if it were true."

He glances to the office door, then the stairs, brow furrowing. It's not too difficult to see he was setting off for somewhere else. "You're occupied. Forgive the intrusion."

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What Has Been Forgotten Has Not Yet Been Lost

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