Dear readers, at one time I thought to continue the cycle about Inquisition, but I realized that I could not. Dragon Age II could still be considered a single failure, but Inquisition is already a trend, and then, judging by all, it will only get worse. Well, since in reality the series will not wait for a decent end, it remains to come up with it himself. That is what you see in front of you. Therefore, in comparison with the past, this story will be a little less about sex and more about heroes; less for lovers of erotica, turning into a plain porn, and more for those who love the same series.

***

A sharp gust of wind threw a whole handful of thorny snow under the hood and, howling, took off further along a winding gorge. The lone traveler slowly raised her hand, wiped the wet slush from her face and shook the melting snow from her fingers. Had anyone alive in this forgotten Creator gorge, this sight would surely have surprised him. And really: a confident walk and a simple, but good-quality equipment - a long warm raincoat, the floor of which was now rattling the wind, and a simple, but durable traveling staff - were given out by an experienced traveler; But what seasoned wanderer dares to go into these mountain wilderness without satellites?

The lonely figure tightened the neckband of her cloak more tightly, shook her head, and leaned forward to meet new gusts of wind more conveniently, continued to climb the mountain path.

“This is how it must be told about our search for the Urn of Sacred Dust. We climb up the mountain slopes in a terrible snow storm, a couple of avalanches and a landslide - to taste. At the top we are met by hundreds of creatures of darkness - what is the story about the Gray Guard without them? Stan, of course, will dump garlocks down in dozens, Morrigan will turn into a spider with or without a spider, and I will soar into the air two of my height and quote the Song without stopping. - Subtly clenched lips under the hood bent in a not too cheerful smile. “Then a dragon will appear, which we will split in two accounts, and there it will remain only to proudly march to the Urn.”

Another gust of wind forced the traveler to stop, clutching with his hands to the staff and buried in the snow with narrow heels of pointed-toed boots.

“How could it be otherwise? A good story has its own requirements. I would tell exactly this, be it for me a bike. That's just for me, it's life. And besides, I haven't been telling stories for a long time. ”

The next step unsuccessfully fell on an icy cobble almost imperceptible under the snow. Having slipped, the pilgrim again leaned on the staff and seemed to have stood on her feet when another gust of wind hit her in the face, tearing the hood off her head and pushing the lonely figure back with force. The staff, which had previously served as a support, lifted off the ground, and the woman waved her hand, trying to grab onto something that would help maintain balance.

Someone's fingers closed on her forearm, not letting her fall. This second pillar was enough to restore balance. The traveler shook off the snow with short red hair and calmly looked at the broad-shouldered figure that emerged from the snowstorm in time. Uninvited assistant stayed for a few seconds with a look on a woman's face, after which he raised his hands and removed his own hood.

“Hand of the Holy One,” he greeted with a tired but sincere smile.

“Hero of Ferelden,” the red-haired wanderer replied a little mockingly.

The road staff, with a dull thud, clattered onto the rocky slope, and Leliana, one wide step overcoming the distance between them, pressed against the wide male breast, and the Guardian, tilting her head and almost touching the disheveled red hair with her nose, enclosed her in a strong embrace.

***

Half an hour later, Leliana sat on a spread bear skin, wrapped in a thin, but rather warm blanket. A thin carved ornament, scattered across an immaculately flat floor, continued on the walls and even the vaulted ceiling of the palace carved right into the rock and gave it either to the ancient Tevinter, or to all of Arlatan.After many years of wandering, Leliana had long ceased to be surprised at how many abandoned ruins could be found in any part of Thedas if we looked at a very small amount. Sometimes it seemed that a thousand years ago, people built only to immediately abandon their creations. Anyway, the comfort of the room was not to occupy - the winding passage did not let the storm raging outside, so the howls of the wind remained a few dozen steps, and the main sound inside was the soft crack of the logs in the niche carved into the wall that served as the hearth.

“I'm sorry you had to climb here by yourself,” the Guardian replied with an embarrassed look, deftly fussing over the kettle and a pair of boilers on the fire. “I thought of meeting you in the valley, but I didn’t expect you to show up today.”

- Can't you get over the fact that people have learned to move on horseback? - pinned his Leliana.

“Your truth,” the Warden snorted. - It seems that this has recently become fashionable. Sometimes it is even strange to remember how we went around the whole of Ferelden on foot.

Leliana chuckled, not hurrying with the answer. She watched the Guardian with a calm and absent-minded, but relentless gaze of the bard, who over the years managed to become her second person - although this time not out of a desire to notice important information, but wishing to recollect the gestures dear to her heart. That was the problem: he was in front of her, no doubt he was in the flesh - and at the same time someone else. She did not remember either this underlined thrift of movements, nor the smoothness of gestures that resembled spilled mercury - as if a verified grace, involuntarily attracting the gaze, should have diverted attention from something else.

“I even liked it in my own way,” she broke the silence. - It was ... more honest. When only your tracks remain on the road, you feel that every step belongs to you.

The guard raised his head, looking away from the cauldrons, and nodded slowly.

“But you never said how you found this place.” Or why he decided to meet right here, for that matter.

“An amazing story,” smiled the Guardian. Turning half-turn toward her, he became straightened and let theatrical solemnity be heard. - I hid here from the raging elements, and when the storm subsided, I realized that I did not want to leave ...

Leliana smiled, but her blue eyes remained the same fixed.

“The years have passed,” she remarked in her most carefree tone. - What only stories did not reach the ears.

- If you are about what allegedly happened in Starkhavene, then the fire started even before my arrival, and the bear was completely tame and did not eat anyone. - The guard spread his hands in an acquittal gesture. “Besides, I needed money.”

“Laughs off. Doesn't want to talk. ”

“And then,” he continued, “my career growth was on commandery ten years ago, but you should have fresher news.” Almost got new Holy?

"Transfers the conversation to me."

“The creator spared,” Leliana replied. “I don’t think I like to while away the rest of the days under the name Hortensia.”

“And just think about how the stories of our adventures would sound during the Fifth Mora,” the Guardian said. - "They go somehow to the bar His Holiness, Arishok and the king of Ferelden ...".

“The brothel,” Leliana corrected. - When I was always told about the brothel.

The guard's dismayed expression on the Guardian's face forced another smile out of her — this time sincere — but she flew off Leliana’s lips as quickly as she appeared.

- What, already there are such stories? - Rather, the Guardian, recovering from surprise, rather rhetorically inquired and shook his head. - I protest. In the "Pearl" we did not take Stan.

- As soon as you find yourself inside the story, it ceases to belong to you. Leliana grinned at the corner of her mouth, but there was no fun in that smile. “For me as a minstrel, it was an unpleasant discovery.”

The guard nodded slowly, understandingly.

- Like the road on which someone's footprints always appear before yours ....