Moments

Moment of Grief

In reaching for a map tack, my arm scattered a pile of letters to the ground. I watched their fall as did the advisers, some fluttering away in the snow tinged breeze. Josephine tried to catch a few, then dropped down to gather them. "Apologies Inquisitor. These were supposed to be delivered to my desk. We're still training some of the volunteers that only arrived in Skyhold."

"How hard is it to understand don't put things on the big map?" Cullen asked. He grumbled at Josie taking the time to reorganize and file each letter but a smile danced upon his lips when he looked away.

Leliana picked up each letter as Josephine laid them back upon the table. "Instrumentally difficult for those who cannot read. This should have arrived to my attention days ago...and that one as well."

I peered over the spymaster's reach and read the inscription upon the envelope. To Her Lady Lavellan. "What's in all of these?" I asked, bending over to assist Josephine.

"Most are threats disguised as congratulations," she answered flipping through the stack, yanking one out, and slotting it in a new place.

"Threats? Is Skyhold in danger?" I asked.

"We don't have the manpower to support an attack," Cullen added, duty blowing away his moment of levity.

"It is politics," Josephine said, waving a hand. "Every noble house needs to present itself as cautious but open to the Inquisition that moved its location to a fortified hold. Just be thankful they didn't all decide to send the traditional warning of a bloodied dagger."

"Yes," Leliana said, turning away and most likely staring at the recesses where she hid all the visceral weapons.

"Should I be answering these?" I asked, dread thudding into my stomach as I flipped through the massive stack. Learning their tongue to handle the wandering tradesman at a young age was simple, but writing never came up. I only knew a few written words of Free Marcher when my keeper sent me to the conclave. Varric considered it his job to get me as literate as possible so I could read all the dirty graffiti, but in between stopping a rebellion, losing Haven, and discovering Skyhold, time slipped away.

Josephine seemed to sense my discomfort as she gathered the letters and smiled, "No, I can handle the correspondence. A writ of 'The Inquisition thanks your for your generosity, but we are more than capable to stand on our own' will suffice."

I nodded my head, grateful for the freedom. She paused and flipped through the stack again, "Oh, but this one you might wish to answer yourself. I believe it comes via your clan."

"My clan?"

Unearthing a letter more yellow and stained than the others, she handed it over, "The instructions were not written in elvish but it has your first name instead of Lavellan."

It took some adjusting to everyone calling me by only the clan name, when they bothered. Inquisitor seemed to be enough for people to get by. I asked Varric once why it was only Herald this and Herald that. He claimed that elven names were too hard on the tongue and it'd be better if I went by something easier like Itchy. That was probably another reason why my reading lessons came to a standstill.

Fishing a dagger out of my back pocket, I slit the seal and opened the letter. The smell of raw earth burst free from the paper and homesickness tugged on me. They'd be under a proper late summer back home, a few leaves turning early while the orange of the sun warmed the forest until it glowed. As opposed to sitting on a mountaintop accepting that I may very well never be warm ever again.

I unfolded the letter fully and twisted it towards the light from the windows. "Da'len, it is with a heavy heart I write this."

My chest constricted, terror clawing up my throat. My eyes zipped around the letter, taking in only a few words and not full sentences. "He was lost" "found the body" "The templars" "din'an."