#da:i codex

Among the papers taken from the red lyrium smugglers in the Dales is a note from the ringleader to his lieutenant:

Beware that red lyrium. Our mage claims it's much more potent than the blue. "Like serving brandy in an ale tankard," he said. Two nights later, he went crazy, frothing and screaming. We had to lock him in the warehouse. Looks like lyrium madness, but comes on faster.

It's not all bad. Our new client, Samson, has his agents buying anyone who gets sick—for gold. When they bought the mage, I asked why; Samson's people said, "To make something better of him." For what they're paying, he must have something blood spectacular lined up.

Have the men be extra careful around the crates. Tell me if any come down sick. Keep the why to yourselves.

To Master Kells:

The new client wants double the red lyrium shipped last time. The contact said it was for someone called Samson. I met him during the last trip. Got a templar feel off of him, although the armor he wears doesn't look Chantry. Still, his coin's good, and he doesn't preach.

Nothing to hunt for days. No deer, no hares. Nothing. Wenneg says we're at least halfway through the forest. He's the only one who's traveled these parts, so we have to take his word.

Ugh. Wenneg. The minute we get out of here and get back to a town, we're ditching the shifty-eyed bastard. It's not just that he's a mage; he's just... shifty. He found some herbs, said they would keep the hunger at bay. Shouldn't have listened, but the others thought it was a good idea.

What did he call it? Ashvine? Doesn't matter. You can't live off vegetables. Real men need real meat to keep he blood up and the humors circulating. Good thing we decided to rest. Feeling dizzy from the lack of proper food...

Master Kells:

Numbers are fantastic, ser. Trade's booming with all this lyrium showing up. Maybe it's red instead of blue, but people are still buying. That mage we picked up can look into what the color means; he needs to start earning his keep.

We have more coin on hand, too. No need to pay of some greasy dwarf since the red stuff isn't from the Deep Roads. Must be killing them; someone struck lyrium up here and they're not getting a piece.

Haven Destroyed By Darkest Menace!

Dire news from the Frostbacks. The pilgrim's sanctuary of Haven, home to the new Inquisition, has been destroyed. Information is still vague, but some believe a dragon resembling an Archdemon was involved in the attack. Fears of a new Blight are now beginning to surface.

As the Chantry continues to flounder, some are concerned that Haven's destruction may predict the Inquisition's imminent collapse. However, there is yet hope, as reports indicate that the Herald of Andraste and Inquisition leadership survived, and have found refuge elsewhere.

Workers finishing the banner placements are requesting more important tasks. Several wish to train with swords so they can fight, more directly serving the Inquisition. They traveled to join a war, not dress up a keep. Can't say I disagree.

Foreman Sherice

Our enemy cut a hole in the sky seen everywhere. We look upon it from below, but it need not humble us. We may fight because we are many. We are many because the Inquisition inspires. The Inquisitor inspires because of her growing legend. Part of this legend is what the masses find on arrival. That is the job of your workers: not vanity, but veneration. Not impulse, but elevation. Their skill as workers is greater threat to the enemy than their number in half-trained soldiers.

One of our finishers, Garin, fell from the scaffold and landed on a paving stone. He had breath for an hour, but his eyes were still. He died, and the Chantry sisters wrapped him. What should we do?

Foreman Sherice

Have them commit his body with those we have lost since Haven; I will record his sacrifice for the Inquisition. Move his fellow workers to another site, and allow time off with pay if they request. Ensure that all workers do their jobs safely. We are in a war, not a race. Rushing does no good if we harm ourselves. We are all the Inquisition.

You ruddy bastard!

You'd be laying at the bottom of the ocean if it weren't for me. That marlin would've spiked and dropped you. I save your life and this is how you repay me? That catch was ours—we both worked for it. You're not getting away with this. I'm getting the gold you owe me, even if I have to beat it out of you. Just so you don't run off like the little shit I know you are: I did your sister. That's right.

So if you've got the stones, meet me by the old camp. We'll settle this.