The next time the Knight-Commander comes to check on Durandal, he will find a small leather pouch hanging from her stable door. Inside is a scrap of paper and a silver brooch, about half-palm sized, that has been intricately engraved with the crest of the Inquisition. While the sword-and-flaming-eye sigil itself is instantly recognizable and unchanged, the less obvious aspects of the engraving are unmistakably of Dalish origin. Someone spent a great deal of time and careful effort on this.

The paper simply reads:

"Thank you.
--N"

'Who is this "N"?'

When Alayre first arrived at the stables, he had came to brush Durandal's hair before taking her out for a ride. Little did he expect to see yet another gift lying in wait for him. While the bottle of Ferelden wine was a show of both gratitude and defiance, this silver brooch was a show of true thanks. It's beautifully handcrafted and wonderfully etched with familiar fine details that give away the gifter's identity. A small smile touches the corner of his lips as he puts down the message and picks up the brooch again.

"Many thanks..." Alayre whispers as he pins it to his red cloak. The way that brooch seems to shimmer has Alayre utterly transfixed for a time. He loves it. It's one of the nicest gifts he's gotten since arriving at Skyhold.

[ After Alayre's notice is posted and subsequently graffitied all over, Alayre will find a box on his pillow. If opened, he'll discover a handful of little Orlesian cakes and a neatly written note on the top, left by a particularly guilt-plagued perpetrator. ]

That faith is what was used to justify keeping my people locked up. It is what was used to justify stripping them of who they are, killing them on a whim.

If the Inquisition is seen as godless, then its flaws are mortal. Those of men. They can be challenged and changed. As some sort of holy movement, when it messes up it will be held to those mistakes.

Detlef?

[ A small part of him had hoped that his friend hadn't seen that mess unfold. Alayre spoke from a place of hollow desperation combined with his own personal frustration with the Inquisition entirely.

To say the least, he wasn't in a good place to discuss such a topic. ]

The fault does indeed lie with us mortals, for look how much we pervert the teachings to match our whims. Everything we claim or deem sacred is somehow sabatoged by our own selfishness to Lord power. Therefore, it certainly isn't the teachings that are erroneous here.

[ A pause ]

It's desperate idiots such as myself who allow their sorrow and anger to linger unchecked.

No, I'm your horse. Talking to you. Yes, it's Detlef.

[He sounds tired, because he is. But even with the tiredness, even with how much he disagrees with Alayre's message, he's still willing to talk and not attack. This is the one good Templar, after all.]

Faith has never gotten my people anything but pain, and the Inquisition is made up of groups other than human. Making us follow Andstrastian standards would splinter us. ...Which I'm sure you're realizing.

[Anders sighs.]

I've no reason to have any faith. That you do is... it's something that you can take joy in. I'd not expect others to do the same.

Durandal is female.

[ Sorry, he needed to clear that up. That's his precious white horse, okay? ]

I realize this all too late now that I've successfully offended everyone. However, I simply grow weary of feeling ashamed for still maintaining my faith because...that's all I have left. In all truth, I'm utterly ashamed to admit such since the Maker's Will been twisted into ugly half-truths and lies.

I only wish others could see what I still see left within these teachings. There's still some good there. Though, I won't force anyone to take such an endeavor against their will.

That is barbaric.

It's deeds.

[After a moment, he realizes that probably doesn't make a lot of sense. All of the healing he's been doing is taking its toll on him.]

If you become the first Knight-Commander to achieve equality with mages, to treat all mages as people, everyone will look more into what you believe. Some will do it out of scorn, but others will look for hope for the future.

Preaching won't get anyone anywhere. Actions will draw people to something or push them away from it.

I wish... I wish words worked. But they simply do not.

Then by my "deeds" alone, I will force change.

[ He all but whispers since the migraine he worked up is getting the better of him. The Templar hasn't been feeling his best as of late unfortunately.

There current location is getting the better of him. ]

I've always thought of myself as "eloquent" but the Inquisition's love for harsh criticism ruined that notion.

[ A lighthearted joke at his expense. ]

Maybe next time write down your thoughts and step away to mull over how you'll say things. Then write down a new version, do the same thing. A third time write them down, pass them to someone you trust to edit, and go from there. When something is of great importance, it's not always easy to find the right words that will work.

[As Anders unfortunately knows all too well.]

As a note? We're all eloquent in our own minds, I'm fairly certain. Whether or not we're persuasive is another thing entirely.

You're certainly correct about that. This isn't the first time someone suggested this idea, I only wish I had heeded it then. [ He let's out a sigh. ] I could've saved myself all this grief.

[ For now on, he's going to rely on Beleth's opinion regarding any thoughts or ideas he has about the Inquisition. She has proven herself to be just as good an ally as Detlef here. Beleth is always there to listen to him and seems always willing. ]

I had always thought that if one learned how to be eloquent that they persuasive. How wrong was I?

Persuasion is eloquence plus manipulation. Perhaps you should be glad you're not good at persuasive.

[It's small comfort, he's sure, but maybe it will at least be that.]

I'd also recommend a drink, if you've anyone to get one with. Not too much, and not alone because drinking alone is a terrible shame.

Thank goodness for small favors then. I would be no different than the despots back at the Chantry who persuade the good to do evil under the Maker's holy name.

[ He grumbles darkly in a slight flair of anger. His mood as late is quite violent and unsteady. ]

Alcohol solves nothing but wine is soothing. I cannot fathom what overcomes me as of late. Between the constant battles, the cold and the fiendish gleam of the red lyrium--I feel as if I'm being driven to madness!

Thedas has been going mad for Ages. It's simply that it's finally starting to show.

[His tone isn't dismissive, simply acknowledging.]

Perhaps, when all oppressive regimes are dealt with, it will find sanity once more. Balance once more. The red lyrium, I feel, is just a symptom of a greater disease, and one that can be healed. But it will take work.

[There's a beat.]

Perhaps get some rest as well, and some time away from the crystal.

Rest doesn't come easy when fretting over the state of things.

[He sighs. There's much still lingering on Alayre's mind but he doesn't want to voice it.]

We have to begin the process of healing this realm, Detlef. I don't want our descendants to suffer as we have.

I've spent so many years of my life dreaming of freedom and equality. I would give everything to make sure no more mages are punished for the sake of existing. Or Dalish, for that matter, elves of any kind.

A future without oppression... I don't know that we'll get to see it, but I want to so very much.

We share a similar dream but I'll do whatever is necessary to see it through.

[A thoughtful hum escapes him.]

As long as we're willing to lay the groundwork, I'm certain such a future will come to be. Though, be prepared for the world itself to try impede upon our march.

I'd expect nothing less. Power is most easily consolidated when you direct hatred at a group; mages are the easiest. But I'll not give over easily.