Revelations

There is little I can say that will ease this pain. Just know that while it hurt to leave, it would have hurt more to stay. I am deeply sorry.

She ripped the paper from the work place and held it tightly in her hand. The scout spoke but the words didn't feel real. He held a piece of paper out to her but she stared straight through him, as if he weren't there. "Inquisitor?" the scout's voice shook as he tried to pull her from her trance. She snatched the paper from his hand and made her way to the tavern.

"Hey boss," Bull laughed. His voice echoed through the small room and up into the rafters; Cole's head peaked over the railing.

"Hurting, helpless, yet somehow hopeful," Cole's voice carried quietly through the building. He made his way slowly down the stairs as he spoke. "Open cuts filled with dirt, blistered soles of a child's feet, the gentle singing of a mocking bird; but everything is carried away by the river, not even walls stand against the rapids."

"What are you talking about, kid?" Bull asked, his words heavy with the smell of alcohol.

"Words thick and tainted, but still strong and sturdy; she trusts you more than the ground sometimes," Cole continued. "The parchment hurts, is hurting, her heart and her palm; she wants you to take it."

She extended her shaky hand; her knuckles pressed against her skin as she desperately held the piece of paper. Bull set his hand on top of hers and slowly pulled at her fingers, lessening her death grip on the note. He read the note and looked up at Cole. "There's more," Cole replied. She extended her hand once again and Bull repeated the process of gently removing her fingers.

He read over the report and yelled out for Sera. "We're going to Val Royeaux!"

The elven rogue tumbled clumsily down the stairs. "We, what?" she yawned. She looked at the inquisitor, who shook like a leaf. "Shite," she whispered. "Come on. Let's go."

The inquisitor sat on Bull's shoulder as they traveled. Cole would occasionally begin saying what the inquisitor was thinking but Bull or Sera would quickly tell him it wasn't the time. The inquisitor dragged her nimble fingers across gently across the curves and crevices of Bull's horns and sadly hummed one of the bard's songs.

"We're here," Bull said, gently pulling the inquisitor from his shoulder's.

They walked up and joined the group of Orlesians who gathered around the gallows. A man sat on his knees surrounded by soldiers who announced his crimes to the crowd. They yanked the man to his feet and placed the noose around his neck. A familiar voice interrupted execution and Blackwall stepped onto the stage-like platform.

"This man is innocent of the crimes laid before him. Orders were given and he followed them like any good soldier. He should not die for that mistake!" His voice was as stiff and sturdy as ever, it brought a small half smile to the corner of her lips.

"Then find me the man who gave the orders," the soldier growled. His mask hid his emotion but his voice twinged with anger.

"Blackwall!" the inquisitor called out. She stepped forward, ready to run up the stairs after him; Sera grabbed her hand softly, shook her head, and mouthed the word don't.

"No, I am not Blackwall. I never was Blackwall. Warden Blackwall is dead, and has been for years. I assumed his name to hide, like a coward, from who I really am."

"You? After all this time..." the man with the noose spoke.

"It's over," Blackwall whispered. "I'm done hiding. I gave the order. The crime is mine. I am Thom Rainier."

"Liar!" the inquisitor screamed. Before she could move Bull had picked up the small dwarven woman and lifted her so her feet no longer touched the ground. "You fucking liar!"