@witherhoarder
Justinia’s death hit Thedas’ faithful like a battering ram to the chest. Worse still was the chantry crumbling without matriarchal leadership. While the Conclave was meant to put an end or instill an armistice between the mage rebellion and the Templar order, the end result only created more chaos. Many lives were lost, and it felt like a ripple of Kirkwall’s most recent tragedy. Then, from the vestiges of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, rose the Inquisition.
Sebastian had already sent a missive extending a hand in friendship to bolster both the Inquisition and Starkhaven equally, however personal battles served little outside his own interest, so he took an additional step. Thus, he found himself on the snowy hills just outside of Haven.
At a distance, the sleepy hamlet was quiet, and in his approach, he felt as if the Maker himself had guided him to this very moment. He looked onward in awe upon holy ground, or what of it remained, and with a purposeful step forward, Sebastian approached what the buzzing military hub in its infancy. Ushering his own snowy steed forward with a click of his tongue, the horse beneath him whinnied and descended down the slopes in a practised gallop. It was only when he reached the gates where his ears were filled with the sound of clashing weapons and overlapping conversation that he dismounted with a practised elegance. Within a moments, a stable worker rushed over to take the reins from his grasp with a sense of wonderment.
It was not difficult to find the nerve centre of the Inquisition; as he wound through the homes and temporary tents pitched to house recruits and refugees, Sebastian found himself stopping several times before he reached the doors to the house of worship, offering support, prayer, and his time. With introduction and a request for an audience with the Inquisitor herself, he was granted entrance and direction through to the apse.
Footsteps echoed off the high walls alongside soft voices reciting the Chant of Light. Dark spaces were illuminated by flickering candles, and he proceeded with a sense of calm and belonging. A warm feeling flooded through him as the approached the door at the far end of the long aisle, where word of his arrival had granted his access to the Inquisition’s war room. As the heavy door was pulled open, the archer stepped inward with an air of pride.
“I am Sebastian Vael, crown prince of Starkhaven,” he introduced warmly, placing the palm of his hand at his waist before bowing with courtesy, “I’ve since extended a hand of friendship to your Inquisition. I would like to offer my aid and services further.”