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Maliphant kept several journals. This one spans the time Maliphant spent as a sergeant in the Imperial Army:

I see Laurent's death in my mind all the time. The man who killed her—one of the usurper's soldiers—was familiar. I wouldn't be surprised if I once shared a drink with him. Isn't that how it is now? Brother against brother.

The priests tell me to remember Laurent's life, not her death. So I try to recall years past—the countless times she saved me. The day we first met, when I was a young recruit who almost pissed himself at her barked orders. Because of her, I learned discipline and control. She instilled in me pride in what we did. She taught me how to use a sword. More importantly, she taught me how to keep it sheathed.

She was fearless. Strong. Regal. And she was cut down like a common peasant by someone we may have once known. Will anyone remember her? Will Celene?

Some pages later:

There is a new soldier in our battalion: Gordian. He's an odd fellow, with an accent I can't place. Like he'd spent time in the Marches. It doesn't matter, in the end. He's been a comfort, listening to me talk about those who died. He also lost friends in Celene's war. And he's tired, like we are. He said a very wise thing: "There is no war without soldiers." The empress can't wage her war if we refuse to fight.

Orlais should belong to Orlesians.

Maliphant kept several journals. This one details the founding of the Freemen of the Dales:

Auguste and I have established outposts in the Emerald Graves. We are spreading the word to both armies. I'm sick of good Orlesian men and women dying for someone else's cause. It ends now. Orlais should belong to us: the people who defend her borders, who till her fields. If we're to fight and kill for something, let it be that.

Several pages later:

Templars approached us. They are not the Order I knew, but they have offered weapons and gold if we help bring their supplies through the Emerald Graves. If we are to free the Dales from the grasp of the nobility, we need what they have to offer. It's a deal with a demon, but our cause is worthwhile.

Maliphant kept several journals. This one appears recently written:

I don't know what we're doing anymore. Our hearts were pure when we started; I have to wonder if we've lost our way. The templars are... terrifying. When I speak to the knight-captain, I feel uneasy. There is something unsettling about his eyes and voice. They keep making offers: more shipments to guard, more men to be escorted to their keep... I just...


No more grousing. I can't let my doubt show. Others take their cue from me; they must stay strong. It's just for a little while longer, then we'll get what we want. We'll be free.

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