Chapter Text
Lord Inquisitor~
It is with great trepidation that I implore for the Inquisition's aid. First and foremost I offer my deepest condolences for what transpired at Haven, though I knew nothing of the occurrence until it was too late. That my misguided brethren would shame our nation by leading the Southern mages into revolt is disgusting, and for the Inquisition and countless others to have suffered for it, all the worse. There is nothing to be gained but chaos by following the path of destruction they have wrought. It benefits no one; on this, we are of one mind.
It is not without correlation that Haven's name arises. My son and heir Dorian attempted to reach the Inquisition ahead of the mage rebellion's attack to give warning, at clear peril to himself. He has since gone missing. We expect he was captured by the Venatori but have received no word of a ransom request. The implications of his death do not bode well for my house and I will go to great lengths to make certain he is returned to us whole. I am at my wit's end out of concern for my boy.
The plight of a single mage, let alone one of Tevinter origin, may seem slight in a time of war, but I believe my friendship may prove beneficial if the Inquisition would deign to assist me in rescuing Dorian. I continue my journey south regardless but I hope we may reach an understanding.
I await your response~
With Deepest Regards,
Magister Halward Pavus of Qarinus and Asariel
"He has good spies," Leliana murmured as the Inquisitor finished reading, arms folded. "He's also not incorrect. I have gotten sparse reports from my agents on the Venatori camps as they moved from the area, but there was indeed one report that mentioned a captive."
"A hostage?" Trevelyan asked. The spymaster's frown deepened.
"A plaything." She nodded at his scowl. "I doubt any of the mages took kindly to a traitor against their cause. Since he is both Tevinter and mage, the affront would be twofold. From what we saw at Haven the southern mages are nearly mindless, but their Venatori commanders are not."
"Dorian Pavus may have some worth as a bargaining chip, if this letter is any tell. That's likely why they are keeping him alive, if it's him." Trevelyan tapped a finger against the tabletop as he pondered. "I am not sure it is worth risking our people to rescue a single mage, however, noble or not."
"Perhaps, perhaps not," Leliana said. "I say we reply and see what the magister suggests. Lord Pavus clearly has good informants to have gotten word so quickly. It would also not hurt to have a friend in the Imperium should we prove successful." Trevelyan nodded.
"-and if it is a trap, we kill him. Simple. I'll request he come in person. If he does, we will see what can be done. If he doesn't, we will likely have to leave Dorian to his fate."
That was how, some weeks later, the horns sounded and a shimmering carriage draped in black-and-gold Tevinter livery came rolling into Skyhold flanked by a dozen well-armed soldiers on horseback. Their armor was good quality, clearly cared for, though they bore the look of hard riding, mounts and carriage both streaked with mud from the road. Trevelyan came out to meet them personally, flanked by Josephine, Cullen, and the Bull.
Halward Pavus stepped down out of the carriage, skin far too bronze to be at home in the frigid south. His black, gilded robes hung just slightly looser on them than their fine tailoring should have allowed; the dark shadows haunting his sharp, grey-green eyes were marked. Together they wove a story that reaffirmed what the Inquisitor had read in his note: of meals missed, of sleep lost. He had said he was a man deeply concerned over the loss of his son and he looked it.
"Looks awfully worn, boss," Bull muttered quietly in his ear before Halward drew closer. The Inquisitor nodded. The tells weren't likely to be faked.
As the regal man drew nearer Trevelyan stepped forward to shake his hand. To his shock, Halward tucked an arm across his torso and one behind his back and bowed, deeply, as did his retainer behind him.
"My Lord Inquisitor," he began. His voice was slightly rough yet rang out clear as bell in the cool air of the courtyard. When he straightened, his eyes were on the Inquisitor's and the Inquisitor's alone. Questioning but regal, chin held high, and while Halward was desperate he was clearly a man who knew his station in life. Cullen's rigid posture beside him was proof enough that the man was a powerful mage in addition to being a formidable politician.
"Magister Pavus," Trevelyan inclined his head, taking the man's hand afterward when it was offered. His grip was strong, the hands calloused. Not an easy ride south, then, the Inquisitor noted, seeing the staff strapped to the magister's back. Especially not if he had it on him while in the carriage. "Come inside," he said aloud, getting right to the point. "My men will see to it that yours get fed, and their mounts stabled. We can grab something to eat and talk about getting your son back."
"Your hospitality is most appreciated," the Tevinter replied, inclining his head again.
"Not an easy trip, then?" The magister's eyes were dark even as a sardonic smile twisted his lips.
"Not given the stakes, no. Frequent battles and more frequent hazards. There are far more numerous miscreants on the roads than strictly necessary, certainly, even for war time." He made a sound of disdain, an irate turn to his tone as he added: "Rather uncalled for." Trevelyan chuckled; the dry, humorless comment settled easily with him. No political frippery. Good.
"We are doing our best to weed out the miscreants, believe me. Let's see if we can't do something about that together, shall we?"