Anders watched the foursome leave from his door, exhaling a deep sigh. His heart was pounding. He delved his hands into his black pockets. In the left was the small envelope that read only, "Further instructions," in Mahariel's delicate hand. He touched the wax, soft now that he had smoothed it over so many times, and he was comforted by it. He took his hands from his jacket and ran them over his face, his stubble more prickly than he had let it get in a while. But the mage had more important things to worry about now. Hawke had agreed.
Anders already knew this was not going to end well for people he had come to consider his friends. After ten years, it felt like betrayal. But he quieted his guilty conscience knowing that he was true to someone else, that someone else had thought that this was the right thing to do.
She believed in him.
She believed in justice.