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Since the downfall of Corypheus six weeks ago, and my last report four weeks ago, there have been few changes in the structure or military personnel of the Inquisition. You ask me, my lord, to speak of the Inquisitor herself as though you had not met her. I shall endeavor to provide a sketch, as well as that of relevant personalities around her and such details as may prove useful to your grace.
Inquisitor Lavellan is an elf woman of middle years and slight stature. Her hair is faded gold, and her skin is considerably weathered. Her eyes are very light blue and she wears a half-mask of elvhen tattoos, a pattern of branching leaves or feathers. She is always seen impeccably dressed and always in the dress uniform of the Inquisition, except when she wears armor which is both finely made and ornate enough to befit a prince of the blood.
She is quite accessible, not only to this ambassador but to many other visitors as well. It is widely known that in the morning she takes her breakfast in the great hall several days a week and any may approach her and even sit and discuss matters of interest with her. She is never alone at these times. One or more of her intimates, usually Ambassador Montilyet or Seeker Pentaghast, is present, and while one may discuss matters with her informally, the Ambassador often produces pertinent documents entirely spontaneously. One may find oneself, moreover, sharing space with a Ferelden merchant, a traveling apostate, trade representatives from Orzammar, or whomever else wishes to talk to the Inquisitor – even horsemasters, sutlers, and the inevitable pilgrims.
More private and official audiences may be applied for, as with any lord. These are generally in late morning or over the noon hour. The Inquisitor does not seem to take luncheon and usually works through, having breakfasted substantially. Anyone who rises late or expects that meetings shall break for luncheon will be disappointed. During the hours between breakfast and any audiences, the Inquisitor is usually closeted with the Military Commander, Cullen Rutherford, or with the aforementioned Ambassador. If there are no audiences, the Inquisitor cannot be expected to emerge from the business of the Inquisition until mid-afternoon.
If the weather is fair, she will then proceed to the lower courtyard of the castle, often in the company of Varric Tethras and others, to shoot at butts. This is her daily routine, cold or warm, unless the weather be so wet as to be injurious to bowstrings. Her bow is simple and unadorned, yet she is a fine shot, to be truthful one of the finest I have ever seen. I have personally observed her put ten arrows into the center of the bullseye in sixty seconds at a distance of fifty paces. She generally spends an hour at this martial practice in the company of Tethras and other friends. It is politely understood that while this is in a public place, it is not appropriate to approach with petitions and other business at this hour.
The Inquisitor does not ride. While she has several fine mounts in her stable, she does not ride out, nor does she travel on horseback, bizarre as that may seem. I presume this to be a peculiarity of elvhen blood.
After these martial endeavors, she walks the entirety of the castle save the weather be too poor, inspecting the guard posts, visiting the infirmary, and venturing into the camp city outside the walls. Lest anyone believe she is unprotected at this time, she is always accompanied by Seeker Pentaghast, Tethras, a Qunari mercenary captain known as the Iron Bull, or the lamentable soldier-of-fortune Thom Rainier. She may wear no armor, but she carries her bow from practice and they are fully armed as a rule. She stops and talks with many people she knows during this time, though it does not usually exceed an hour in length.
In the fifth hour after noon she meets with her War Council in the Council Chamber. It is through Ambassador Montilyet’s office on the ground floor off the great hall, through the second door to the left as one enters. I have not been in the chamber and cannot describe it. Sometimes these meetings are short and sometimes they extend well into the dinner hour.
Except for rare occasions, the Inquisitor does not take dinner in the hall. Perhaps one night in ten she patronizes the Herald’s Rest, the local tavern, where she is most often in company with the Tevinter Mage Dorian Pavus, the aforementioned Tethras, the lamentable Rainier, and members of the mercenary company known as the Chargers. Often it is otherwise a quiet and routine evening except for the Inquisitor’s presence. She attends these evenings in full dress uniform, her unvarying costume of the day. She dines on peasant food and drinks usually one cup of cider or wine punch, often enjoying the performance by a bard. Maryden Halewell is a favorite performer, though when there is someone new booked it is likely the Inquisitor will attend. She speaks politely to those who approach her but makes it clear that all business or discussion of politics or war must be conducted at another time. Unless the performance is unusually good and runs late, she leaves quite early in the constant company of Rainier.
This brings us to the inescapable topic of Rainier. That he is her acknowledged lover is a matter of fact. Most evenings she retires to dine with him privately after the War Council meeting. Her chambers take up two full floors of the tower, approached through the third door on the left in the Great Hall, directly above the Council Chamber. There are always two guards on duty at the door from the hall, and they are in full sight of at least four other guards in the hall, as well as anyone else present in this very busy space. I have not been invited into her private chambers, but they have been described to me as “spacious and well-appointed.” Once she has retired, she is not disturbed until morning unless there is an emergency. Rainier retires with her. While he nominally keeps quarters above the stable (!) it is understood that he is in her rooms at all hours these days. The guards permit him access without question even when she is not with him.
As to who he is, my lord, he is precisely what one expects. He is a sturdy fighting man of about fifty, dark haired and bearded in the Ferelden fashion, but with some rudiments of Orlesian manners. He has been seen to make a fine leg and to bow to his lady, kiss her hand, and boldly express sentiments proper to a chevalier to his lady in a manner which would not be shameful in Val Royaux. However, he is no popinjay or flatterer. He is known as a swordsman nearly without peer. A training bout between him and Seeker Pentaghast is a sight to behold, and he regularly spars with the Military Commander in the mornings. He also assists in the training of recruits, though he holds no official military rank. When I asked Ambassador Montilyet what his title was, she said that he should be styled the Inquisitor’s Champion. Certainly the position of Champion to a great lady is an honorable one, more so than this traitor to our colors deserves.
Nevertheless, I propose that we attempt to make a friend of Rainier rather than alienate him. He has the Inquisitor’s ear in all things. She never travels without him, and he has unparalleled access to her chambers and person. One may suspect that given their ages, as she cannot be his junior by more than a year or two if that, all these private hours together must be spent in discussion as well as sport! His influence is pervasive, if subtle. Should he speak for or against a course of action, his words would carry great weight.
I am currently attempting to find out what his opinions are. As is proper for a Champion, he does not publicly express political opinions unless they are the official pronouncements made by his lady. However, I am quite certain he has some, and that they are the result of decades of experience in war and in the Game, and that his discretion is the result of propriety rather than a lack of thought. I understand he has said before my arrival that “Celene was no great loss,” and that Madame de Fer is “a prissy bitch.” It pains me, my lord, to report that he has also referred to you as “a treacherous jackass.” He speaks very well of Sister Leliana, the leading candidate to be the new Divine, always with respect and sometimes with admiration. I might conclude that his greatest allegiance after the Inquisition is to the Chantry.
My lord, it is a long second. He has publicly sworn to the Inquisition, which may or may not mean much from a man who has broken oaths before, but his devotion to the Inquisitor is unquestioned. Given that she has raised Thom Rainier to heights he could not have achieved in our fair nation of Orlais, and that he has gained the respect accorded to a great hero by the members of the Inquisition, there is little one could offer on the scales to balance that. Certainly he is not to be bought for gold.
He may indeed be her weakness – her devotion to him, and the public display of unseemly affection that marked his return from Val Royaux, do not well serve the image of the Inquisition. But what are they both but bounders raised up, an elf and a sell-sword? What days have we come to when such are made mighty? Mercenaries and tramps, rogues and murderers now hold dominion. Perhaps, now that Corypheus is defeated, the surge of support the Inquisition has enjoyed from the common folk will wane. Perhaps these seditious pamphleteers will find less fertile ground for their poison seed now that fear does not feed the fancies of peasants. However, until this occurs, I think it is prudent for us to chart a course of friendship with Inquisitor Lavellan. Hers is the power in the moment. While all power is fleeting, we do not yet know what she will do with it, other than use the Inquisition’s influence in favor of Sister Leliana. To that end, we must cultivate Rainier, distasteful as that may be. He must, after all, harbor some warm sentiments for the country that nurtured him for twenty years!
It is far more to the point than to appeal to her intellect or artistic curiosity, as from what I understand she has little of either. Her education is negligible and her tastes are pedestrian. I understand she reads and writes, but I have found little evidence that her reading goes beyond popular serials like Hard in Hightown. She listens to bards in taverns; there is no theater, no symposium, no recitations or salons. In short, her tastes are common. To appeal to her through wit or art seems a lost cause. She has no patience for matters beyond logistics and war. Indeed, it is said that Inquisitor Lavellan has never been seen at Chantry services, not even for high feasts! (Though it is true that the Inquisition has given generously to the Chantry for relief efforts in Ferelden and beyond.)
Perhaps, my lord, were the Inquisitor a man and a human, you might say that she is a good, plain warrior who has no patience for frivolity, and there is that school of thought. However, such does not make a king nor an Inquisitor. Graces are required. Opinions are formed. If they are not formed in the crucible of the university or the finest thinkers in history, where are they formed? Who leads her? It is this that I endeavor to discover. In a word, what does Inquisitor Lavellan think? Does she think? I presume she does – her actions are not those of a figurehead. But how could an elf, an uneducated Dalish, form any opinions of worth? We learn, my lord, from art and history, from literature and poetry, from the centuries of civilization that make up the Game. If she has none of those things and she is not guided by the Chantry, what then guides her? I am no closer to answering this question than when I arrived.
I shall persevere, content in your good will, and hopeful of your approbation.
I am your obedient servant,
Adrien Monfort de Bellevue-Chazey