The Sun Warrior, The Inquisitor.

2. Master Dennet

After an excursion to the Hinterlands to find Mother Giselle, Feyhel was ready to wander back to the Free Marches. He wasn't cut out for what they were doing. He wasn't cut out to wear shoes of all things either. They felt clunky as he walked, his feet felt enclosed and sweaty. "Don't worry, kid. You'll get used to them." Varric said softly as he handed a bowl of broth to the elf. They'd set up camp just down from a lake for the night. "I know but still." He muttered as he stared at the shoes. "I feel like I'm slower than normal." He added as he took the bowl. "Thank you." He finished as he cradled the bowl close to his chest. "No one is making you wear them, you know." Solas cut in as he sat opposite Feyhel. "They already think I'm savage. I don't want them to think I was raised in a barn." The elf joked as he began eating. Solas simply chuckled and stared into the fire, Cassandra joining them soon after. Varric stared at him for a few seconds before humming lightly. "So where were you raised?" He asked. Feyhel flinched and turned his head to the side a little. "Tevinter. Then the Free Marches." He mumbled. "Care to elaborate?" Varric pushed. "Not really," Feyhel took a sip of the broth. "sorry."

A few hours passed and Feyhel was the only one left sitting outside. Everyone else had returned from the tents. "I've something for you, ser." One of the officers spoke, breaking the silence as she walked over. "Thank you." Feyhel muttered as he took the small slip of paper. "Blackwall, huh?" He whispered as he read over what Leliana had sent him. It seemed he had a mission for the following day. As well as finding Horse master Dennet for the mounts. "Still out here, kid?" Varric asked as he crawled out of the tent the two were to be sharing. "Yeah... I can't sleep." He muttered as he stared into the fire. "I've had problems with sleep for as long as I can remember, really. Always plagued with these... Dreams that seem too real to be dreams." He mumbled. "Wanna talk about it? I'm all ears." Varric said gently as he sat beside the elf. "At night... I get these images. A large estate somewhere... there's me and another elf. He has white hair and shining green eyes." He explained as he looked at the sky "but he doesn't have a Valaslin. So, he's not Dalish... I could draw him, if you have paper?" Feyhel suggested as he played with his fingers. Varric nodded before disappearing back into the tent and returning seconds later with the tools Feyhel needed.

It took him a while, but the elf soon sketched out the elf from his memories. "Andraste's Ass... That's Fenris." Varric muttered. "Fenris?" Feyhel questioned. "Someone I knew in Kirkwall, only... He doesn't have plain skin like that." Varric explained. "Anyway, lets head into the tent. We have to be up pretty early." Varric stated as he stood up. "Alright." The elf muttered as he got up and went into the tent.

The night was oddly peaceful for the elf. His memories didn't haunt him, and he was able to get a few hours before Cassandra burst into his and Varric's tent. "Both of you, up. Now." She demanded before pulling the covers away from the two. Feyhel groaned as he slowly rolled out of the bed. "Come on then, let's get recruiting." Varric chuckled as he pulled his shirt on. The elf nodded as he quickly got into his armour again. The pair left the tent and began their journey to lake Luthias to speak to Blackwall. "Kid, that other mark on your hand." Varric questioned, pulling him away from Solas and Cassandra. "What about it?" Feyhel asked cautiously. "How did you get it? You can't have been born with it." Varric queried as he looked to Feyhel's right hand. "I've had it for as long as I can remember. That's all I can tell you. I didn't know much about myself before the conclave. Now I know a whole lot less. Those dreams don't help either." The elf confessed, running his fingers through his hair. "To be honest, a lot of this feels like a dream." He finalised before walking ahead a little.

"Bandits!" A cry called out from across the lake. "That must be him." Solas informed Feyhel. The elf nodded before taking out his staff and running in the direction of the voice. The fight they stumbled on wasn't what they expected. There was a confident warrior with three rather frightened looking ones behind him. "Looks like they could use some help." Varric coaxed as he motioned to Feyhel's right hand. The elf sighed and shook his head before using his immolate to hold back some of the bandits. Solas covered the group in a barrier as they all followed Feyhel's attack. They worked efficiently, taking the bandits down with ease. "You must be Warden Blackwall." Feyhel panted as he walked over to the rugged looking man. "How... how do you know me?" The men questioned. "I'm with the inquisition. I'm looking into the disappearance of the Wardens after the Conclave. This is Varric, Solas and Cassandra. My... friends." Feyhel explained. The word 'friend' seemed alien on his tongue. He hadn't said that in a long time. "You think the wardens have something to do with this?" Blackwall accused, making Feyhel sigh lightly. "No, I don't but we have to cover our options. If you can't offer any help, then I guess we're done here." He stated as he sheathed his staff and turned to walk away. "Wait. I don't know what happened to the Warden's, but I can help. I will serve." He spoke, picking up his sword from the ground. "Alright. Report to Haven and speak to Josephine." Feyhel told him before watching as Blackwall walked away.