Fenris has kept busy since the events at Kirkwall. Tracking Tevinter slavers in the South leads him to the Temple of Sacred Ashes the night before the Conclave. From there, everything begins to fall apart. OR: Fenris is the Inquisitor and he has no patience for Venatori bullshit.

The locker room chatter started up almost at once, providing a screen of background noise. Zhenya sat down beside the ghost. “I’m captain. Evgeni Malkin.” “Sidney Crosby,” the ghost said. He didn’t offer his hand, which made Zhenya think he had been dead for a while, long enough to shed the ingrained habits of the living. “I’m, uh. Is it really 2018?”