What Secrets Await

Chapter 15: Restoration

"You fixed it, you return it. It'll be good for ya," Harritt had said.

Thus he directed Maeva to Josephine about returning the Keeper's pouch to its owner. Already brimming with good mood thanks the romantic dream she'd had of Solas last night, as well as the thought of fixing her mother's ring, Maeva was thrilled that she'd get to meet the Inquisitor today. Now she stood in a large room, cozy thanks to a fireplace that glowed warmly over rugs, tapestries and wooden rafters against gray brick, waiting her turn to approach.

Lady Josephine Montilyet of Antiva City represented the Inquisition's diplomatic and structural aspects. The golden-ruffled woman sat behind a desk so large than it seemed a fortress around her. The intimidation it presented was softened by shimmering beams of light that poured through latticed windows; a living metaphor of the woman's links to the outside and the inside of the Inquisition. The insignia was carved into the wood of the large chair she sat it, above her head before giving way to a padded leather back. Beyond her a row of tall bookshelves overflowed with leather bound tomes of family lineages, detailed laws and etiquette.

A tall man in mage robes that was speaking to her presently gave a final nod and turned to leave. It was Maeva's turn.

Anxiety returned as she approached the golden woman and her mighty desk.

How do I speak to her? Should I curtsey?

"Hello, Lady Montilyet. I am here to return the Inquisitor's pouch-- it's repaired now."

She displayed the prize in her hands. The Lady looked at the item and smiled despite not seeming to recognize it.

"Ah, that's wonderful news. But I believe all equipment matters are handled by Master Harritt, no? How is it that you have the Inquisitor's pouch?" Her disarming smile quieted any sense of accusation her words might have had.

The tune and richness of her voice was a benevolent anchor and Maeva felt no threat from this woman's perception. She watched her hands moved deftly about efficient tasks as if of their own volition, writing notes and sorting papers into neat stacks.

"I report to Master Harritt; he gave me the pouch to fix. I've repaired it now and he told me to talk to you next," Maeva explained.

Josephine's smile shifted.

Say something more. "It's a Dalish Keeper's pouch."

"I see," she said, smiling bigger at the familiar words. "Then I imagine Lady Lavellan will want to receive the item personally. I can arrange for you to be called for when she next receives visitors. After her return to Skyhold, that is; Her Worship is currently in the Western Approach. What is your name?"

"Maeva."

Lady Josephine scribbled a note on a small piece of paper and added it to a collection of the little things at one corner of the desk.

"Very well, Miss Maeva," she said with a smile and a tone that indicated farewell. "We'll call for you then."

Maeva awkwardly attempted a curtsey but it was more like a stumble. She blushed and walked away stiffly.

Just before the door to the main hall-- which was currently filled with early-rising nobles eager for court favor-- she spied a stairwell she didn't recognize and followed it. She found herself on a sub-level of the castle building, in large room that was carved the dark stone into two orderly rows of thick columns, creating a wide center aisle and lit with candelabras. It was the Inquisition's rumored dining hall, she saw from the long table, chairs and place settings.