Hawke took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before letting it out with a gusty exhale.
"Oh Lowtown! I always forget just how pungent the smell of despair, alcohol, and fresh baked bread is down here. And whatever they're burning in the foundry..."
"I'm sure they're burning a special blend today, just for you. Something about soiled pants and hair? It's always a surprise." Varric gave Hawke a grin, boots clanking against the rough stone street. "After your stroll through this lovely bouquet, I'm all for swinging into a tavern. I hear there's a brew down here that could curl your nose hairs."
The dwarf seemed unconcerned of the smell, or that they were on their way to visit Merrill.
"Oh, did The Hanged Man finally manage to find worse alcohol than what they already serve, or did you find a new tavern for us to drape our hides in after cleaning up all of Kirkwall's messes?"
Lately, he found Varric was the only one of their group who treated the poor elf gently. None of them were keen to forget that she was a blood mage but... Well, Hawke had long since accepted that he just kept weird, dangerous friends. Best not to think about it too hard.
He could see the outer edge of the vhenadahl's branches, dappling the light coming into Kirkwall's alienage and casting the rough buildings around it into cool shadow. Hawke doubted he'd ever find the contrast to be perfectly natural - thick roots had grown stubbornly between cracked cobble, the massive tree both standing tall and spreading its leaves like a looming bird.
"Well, when I say 'tavern' I mean it more like 'the shed behind someone's house' and by 'house' I might mean something like 'Alleyway' - interesting things can come from unpredictable sources, you know."
As if on cue, because nothing could ever go simply, a frantic elvhen woman clipped his side, stumbling a step to avoid Varric before leaping back.
"Oh! Sorry serah! I... You. You're the Champion! Please, serah, I'm not certain whom to go to for help..." Her desperate look had morphed quickly from fear to painful hope.
"Well, there is always the guard..." Hawke muttered, already knowing it was too late to redirect the elf's pleas.
"I'm sure the mighty Champion would be delighted to help in any way they can." Varroc interjected with a genuine tone, the gentle words contrasting with the amused quirk of his lips. Hawke fought back a groan, but knew he really did have a soft heart, chasing people's problems all over the countryside.
The elvhen woman was quick to continue, almost disbelieving that she'd found a willing ear.
"Serah, last night dozens of men came into the alienage. They took children! M-most of us... We didn't even hear them. My little boy is gone and I…" She faltered, swallowing tightly. Hawke felt the back of his neck prickle at her description, wondering whether the silent step had been from skill or magic. Either way, kidnapped children was never a good sign.
"Please, Ser! All I found was this, most of us didn't even find this much..." She offered a scrap of paper, pressing it into the mage's hands.
Hawke didn't have to look at it for more than a few seconds before an thunderously displeased scowl spread across his face.
"I'll be back before the sun rises tomorrow. Varric, come on." Hawke walked away before the woman fully processed what happened, her babbled thanks fading back into the rest of Lowtown's noise.
Varroc trotted after Hawke, glancing sideways at the paper still clenched in his hand.
"You seem sure of yourself," he commented. "A bunch of sneaks silently steal away children and they're clumsy enough to leave an address?"
Hawke shook his head, still glaring at the path ahead.
"Not exactly, but I tend to find that with a shipping manifest asking for two-legged cargo, the docks tend to be a good place to start." He exhaled a slow, deliberate breath to keep his calm.
"Got a plan, then?"
"...I'll figure out exactly where we're going after we pick up Fenris and Aveline. I'm good at improvising."
He headed for Hightown with his teeth clenched, the muscle in his jaw jumping in a way that clearly communicated that someone was likely going to die a horrible death that day. Children… slaves were bad, but targeting children?
"It's always a shipping manifest," Varric mused, "why are people so bad at keeping their paperwork in order, I wonder." Varric wisely didn't ask what they were going to do. At this point, it would have been stating the obvious. So, he followed, discreetly tallying the bolts in his quiver, and the traps in his bag.
Hawke swallowed back his anger, trying to stay focused with the lighthearted words of his shorter friend.
"I try and make a habit of not bringing my paperwork with me. Honestly, if I try and so much as bring a grocery list with me, I even manage to lose that. The whole damn manifest is a silly thing to carry with you." He quirked a strained smile. "I guess we're lucky that assholes from Tevinter are short sighted like that. Assuming they're Tevine, and not just blighted suckholes."
It was a bit awkward to 'sneak' into the guard house so late at night, both of them knowing it was closed to visitors, while the men on duty recognized their captain's associates quite easily. Unimpressed glares were shot their way from a few men, but one or two raised a hand in greeting, and none of the armored guards moved to stop them.
"Maybe I ought to bring along some "sensitive documents" for you to misplace." Varric's gestured air quotes and joking tone almost hid the gears spinning in the back of his head. A guard tilted his head toward the two of them. Varric grinned at him.
He gave Aveline a jaunty wave as they entered her office and Hawke forced out a chuckle,
"Well, since it's you, Varric, I suppose I won't ask you to pay me for such an unassuming service."
"You're so kind!" Varric wiped a fake tear from his eye at the offer. "Such generosity!"
Convincing Aveline went quickly. She knew the expression on Hawke's face every bit as well as Varric did, and the strained look lent some urgency to it.
Aveline nodded at her guards as she stepped out of her office, not bothering to ask what likely illegal activities they were about to dive into. She would really just rather not know, until it was too late for her guilt to get the better of her. She had her sword, her shield, and a trust that Hawke, at least, tended to side with the moral right - even if it didn't always side with the law.
While rumors may fly, she didn't exactly want to advertise that by discussing in front of her men.
The three of them were quick to head back to Hightown, crickets heralding their arrival with silence as they neared.
Hawke knocked at Fenris' door when they arrived, only just stopping himself from outright pounding on the sturdy wood. He knew Fenris was jumpy regardless of how often as he claimed he wasn't, and he'd be damned if he didn't ask for the elf's help at least half considerately.
