Iron Bull received his first mission objective from Anri via bird. His boss had been cryptic with his orders, but with his Ben-Hassrath training, he understood what he needed to do.

  A soft-faced and staunch young man in heavy armor stepped up to stand next to the six-foot muscly warrior.

  "Chief, what's our next step?" Krem calmly asked his beefy bullish leader, who was setting a small parchment on fire with torchlight.

  The Chargers had just finished clearing out a Venatori camp, which Dorian had handsomely paid for them to do.

  Krem noticed all their recent work was being paid by Dorian's gold: their last job had been within the Exalted Plains where their old friend had hired them to kill a Magister blood mage who had attempted a Tevinter magic ritual for the Venatori. That was an interesting time involving shades with tits and a few desire hags to chill everyone's bones, but they had survived and succeeded. Their other jobs were simpler Venatori clean-house gigs. The other Chargers were more than happy to kill some corrupt and nasty Vints while getting royally paid at the same time. So he expected the message his chief had received was another job offer from their magister patron.

  "Next step, we break open the casks and get drunk until we drop!" Iron Bull's thick, deep voice was loud for all his mercenaries to hear in and near their pitched tents. "Maybe find a pretty redhead to keep me warm tonight."

  "Really? Chief, where in the Emerald Graves are you gonna find a willing redhead wanting to ride your horns?"

  Iron Bull laughed. "Come on Krem, didn't you see that pretty maid in Argon's Lodge checking me out? I think I have a shot."

  Krem chuckled as he left his leader to his wild fantasies and returned to get merry with the other Chargers. A hearty cheering echoed down the valley of Din'an Hanin, which was the resting place for the elven Emerald Knights. They were camped within a ruin that housed a large-sized elven wolf statue Iron Bull had termed, Solas's dogshit face.

  Despite what Iron Bull had said to Krem, his mind was in a sober mood as he pondered Anri's orders for him.

  For starters, it made little sense to return to the Western Approach and meet up with some old friends to do an odd gig. This order felt as cryptic as the message itself. Like Dorian, Anri had paid them a shit ton of gold upfront. Although he had had to retrieve it from a Red Jenny Cache drop point earlier, which had been a bugger to get to. He was no skinny rogue to slip through rock crevices, so he had his sapper Rocky blast through the stone walls blocking access with explosives. A landmark hill was made rubble in the process, but the Dales was used to shit becoming ruins so it was all good.

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  Anyway, the gold was good and, under Anri, his mercenary purpose was a lot more meaningful than just being a sword for hire. He wasn't a Tal Vashoth if he was working to save the world. His boss never did something without an end goal, so he pocketed his doubts and joined his men for some drinking.

  The next morning they dismantled their camp and made the long journey to the desert regions of the Approach.

  There were some grumbles and signs of tiredness by the time they reached the Griffon Wing Keep outpost via horse and cart. They all lapsed into a moment of nostalgia as they stared at the Inquisition banner still flapping in the hot winds at the main entrance.

  A few Inquisition soldiers paraded the keep's battlements while others sealed items into crates marked for the Orlesian Chantry.

  Iron Bull and his men calmly entered the keep and were greeted by Knight-Captain Rylen, a stocky and stern-faced, tattooed-chin man in heavy Inquisition armor, who was more than happy to share a drink with old comrades and learn what they had been up to.

  Everyone was gathered around a roaring campfire near the tents on the upper wing. The stark desert sun began to set, causing a chilly night to settle in.

  "Sad to see it come to this, but I guess Your Worship had his reasons." Rylen sighed as he took a hearty swig of ale. "Can't say I'm not happy to leave this desert behind me. I'm even gladder the Inquisition didn't become part of the Chantry, but I guess they had to surrender their holdings to them."

  "We defeated Corypheus and dismantled his red templar bastards. The Inquisitor felt it was time to give everyone the break and peace they deserved."

  Rylen nodded. "We're lucky we had a good and practical man to lead us. If it had been anyone else, especially those Chantry types, we would've been fucked."

  Iron Bull laughed. "You're right about that."

  "Kind of hard not to call him Inquisitor though," Rylen stared pensively at his half-filled mug. His pondering led to the question of why Iron Bull and his men were in the region. "Anyway, what brings you all here? Doubt it was for going down memory lane."

  Iron Bull immediately answered with a plausible lie. "Got a job to clear out some Venatori last sighted near the Gates of Andoral. I was hoping to see if your men noticed anything new. Something that would help narrow down these bastards' camping spots."

  Rylen frowned, trying to recall if his scouts reported Venatori in the area. "Some Grey Wardens from our Orlesian unit had dropped by a few days ago, but my men never mentioned seeing any Venatori. If they're hiding from our patrols, then I'd be grateful for aid. We've enough shit to deal with in handing over the keep to Chantry control."

  "Grey Wardens?" Iron Bull feigned surprise, "I guess this was once their turf. Where did they go?"

  Ryan shrugged his shoulders and swallowed a hearty amount of ale to make him feel mellow. "They were headed in the direction of the Griffon Wing Monument, but I didn't bother to ask more."

  Iron Bull nodded and turned the conversation to light and trivial topics, which had them laughing and enjoying good company until the morning.