In a little hovel in Dust Town, a poor district in Orzammar, the city of Dwarves, there lived a dwarf who wrestled with a bar stool. The bar stool won.
"Really? Do you really have to be in another barfight?" said a pretty dwarf woman who was tending to the bruise on the dwarf's eye. Brosca pushed her hands away to tend to them himself.
After a moment, he said "I'm sorry ye got a nug for a brodder."
"Nug? You're more like a bronto."
"See? Nugbrain." he said, tapping his head.
"Rica! I hear yer brodder! Is he there?" said a harsh, guttural voice from a dark room somewhere in that gloomy house.
"Right here, ye madwoman!" answered Brosca.
A disheveled looking woman emerged from a dank room. "Ye foolish boy. Don't ye talk to yer mother like that. Ye think ye uppity now like dem nobles, runnin with dem Carta? Well, boy, if ye had any gratitude in ye, ye respect yer mother cos if she ain't, you ain't-"
He tossed a coin which his mother deftly caught. "Go buy yerself a soddin drink and leave me alone."
His mother scolded some more, but clutching the coin tightly in her hand, she put on her coat and eventually left for the nearest tavern. After the door slammed shut, Rica looked at her brother, exasperated.
"Must you? She-"
"Ah, donna start now. I'va only got rid of the naggin."
She settled on looking exasperated at him.
"Look I make it up to ye. We gonna pay the rent and the debt. But you gotta give yer brodder more time."
His sister lowered her eyes. "I was going to talk to you about that."
He looked at his sister more closely, alarmed at the way she looks. As if she was guilty. "What? What have ye not been tellin me?"
She kept quiet for a long time, but before she could speak the door flung open.
"Atrast vala, idiots."
The siblings shot out of their chairs and stared at the newcomer. It was a dark haired, hard faced dwarf, strolling in their home as if he belonged.
"This isna yer house, Beraht." Brosca said, eyeing the visitor warily.
"But it is my house. I own this house. I own that filthy rag over there, I own that ratty chair, I own everything that is yours." Then he looked at Rica. "And I own her."
"What're ye talkin about?"
'Interesting. You see, I've met your mother back there. Charming woman. But have you never thought that her daughter will end up like her mother? Only luckier, I hope."
"What? Rica, what's he natterin about?"
"Brother I….I have accepted Beraht's offer to be noble hunter."
"What?! When?"
"Months ago."
"Accepted my offer? Haha Rica, you were always my favorite. If I put my money on who gets foaling first, it'd be you. You're halfway noble already, the way you speak. Not riffraff like the others. Although-" Beraht picked up a lock of Rica's hair at the front and flicked it over her shoulder, to get a better view of her chest. "I can't keep gambling on you forever precious. You've got a sweet look, something to light a man on fire. But you've got to make it count."
Rica slapped the hand and backed away. "Can we not talk about this in front of my brother?"
"Why not? He knows the slope of the land, don't you, boy."
"Hey! Donna talk like that to me sister."
"You've told me a lot of things, not one of which meant more than a fart in the middens. Before me, your sister is another duster. Now check her out. Every man's dream. All she gotta do is find a lord, squeeze out some kid who looks like him, and we're all living the easy life in the Diamond Quarter."
"Please don't get involved. You know it never ends well." She pleaded to her brother, who was looking like he was about to strangle Beraht.
"He ain't got right to treat ye that way."
"I'll keep treating her however I like as long as you both eat off my plate. You keep your head down and say "Aye" to any job I give you. In return, I put up some coin and get a bellyful of some nobleman's brat. Then you go both free. Then I get to join the family and called my lord for the rest of the little prince's life."
"And what? That prince gonna call you uncle and visit on name-days?"
Beraht laughed a mirthless laugh. "That's what everyone likes- a casteless with a big mouth. But I didn't come to chat. I've been looking at my investments and this one hasn't borne gold. If you haven't got a patron.…" he looked at her with hard eyes "you're back to sweeping the streets."
Rica paled. "But I have..met someone. I didn't want to promise but he seems interested."
"Geroff her. It's me ye want, right? Ye hava job for me?"
"Your buddy Leske outside will tell you. Don't even think about bungling it." Beraht glared at Brosca with those mean, hard eyes. "You're all on loose sand with me right now and I know you've got nowhere else to turn." With a final leer at Rica, he went out leisurely and slammed the door.
When their visitor was gone, Rica turned to him and said "I'm sorry, brother."
"Why didna tell me? And why did ye do it? I told ye I'm gonna-"
"You always say that but everytime, you either get yourself so drunk you're gone for days or start a fight or Mother gets so drunk she starts a fight and I have to pay everyone so they wouldn't beat her to death. What am I supposed to do? Sit at home? We can't keep going like this." She sat in a chair and put her head in her hands.
Brosca placed a comforting hand on her back. "I'm sorry. Shite. I shoulda been better." He cursed himself for placing his sister at Beraht's reach, as his mercenary. Aye, he had heard of Beraht's trade. He knew girls wanting to be noble hunters were told to show their…skills. With Rica's beauty and educated-like speech and manner, he knew Beraht would snap her up quickly. He used to jeer at her accent and her love of refinement, saying she's ashamed of her roots and her family by aping a noble. But when she cried, he softened and gave way. Now, he wished he should have made her cry harder if it meant keeping her away from Beraht.
"So why is he naggin you?"
She told him about two of Berath's girls getting presents in Harrowmont's reception. That inspired the cave-tick to put pressure on her.
"Ye say ye gotta man."
"I didn't exactly got him. That is-I hope-he certainly seems charming. He treats me like a real lady, not just someone to tumble and forget."
Sodding Stone. His sister looked in love. That's the worst thing to be in for a noble hunter. She should be coolly following her interest, not mooning about someone.
"Who's he?"
"I'll tell you later. In case I'm wrong. It's just so….crazy that one of the most important man in Orzammar would be interested in me. Anyway, time is rusting and you have a job to do." She stood up. "I should probably get dressed."
"Dressed? Yer goin out?'
"You heard Beraht. Don't worry I'll be fine. Now go." She patted his shoulder and smiled at him, assuring him that she'll be fine.
He looked at his sister, cursing himself for not being the best brother to the only person he loved most.
"My lady, wait!"
Elissa Cousland, the daughter of Bryce Cousland, Teryn of Highever, is a pretty, fair haired girl with dark eyes, a fine complexion and fine figure. With all those blessings of beauty, wealth, and noble birth, it is not surprising she had a deeply held belief that the world always smiles upon her.
Or so she thought. At least it's smiling at her now.
"Ser Gilmore? Is something wrong?"
A stolidly built knight, with red-gold hair and a fair face walked up to her. "Nothing serious, my lady. But there is something I need your help with. It's about your dog. "
"That dog. What's he done now?"
"I fear your hound has the kitchens in uproar again. Nan is threatening to leave ."
"Oh, Nan is blowing off steam. She's always like that." She said dismissively.
Ser Gilmore took it seriously, though. "Your mother disagrees. She wants you to collect the dog, and quickly. You know these mabari hounds. He'll listen to his mistress but anyone else risks having an arm bitten off."
"Fine. I guess I should collect him then." She said, pouting. But actually, she was thrilled she had an excuse to be walking with the knight. Maybe she'll give the dog some treat later?
The pair walked off towards the kitchens. When they think they were out of earshot of anyone, the knight asked her. "Pardon me my lady, but is it true a Grey Warden arrived?"
Elissa smiled and said playfully to him "Hmmm…maybe"
He was indignant. "Maybe? Is he there or not?"
She laughed, putting a placating hand on his arm. "Yes he's there. I just saw him. He was talking to Father."
"Really? What does he look like?"
"He looks very dangerous, although he should smile every now and then. He's so dour-looking, he makes Arl Howe look handsome".
"You know that's not a polite way to describe someone from an order of great warriors."
"Why not? They're hardly important."
The knight gave up trying to convince her to make her see them his way.
"And did he…ask about me?"
Something about it made her stop in her tracks. "Why would he ask about you?"
"I have wanted to join the Grey Wardens. I have mentioned it to your Father, and he says he knows someone who was a Warden and he'll pass it along"
"Why would you do that? You don't have to join them, you know. You are perfectly fine here. Father and Mother are fond of you. We are fond of you. Why would you go off to join some obscure order?"
Ser Gilmore hesitated. "I…I want to tell to you about that, but not here"
Elissa looked both ways before pushing Ser Gilmore to a small covered corner of the pathway. "Can you tell me about it now?"
"You really are relentless."
She laughed. "That's part of my charm. So why are you joining them?'
Ser Gilmore turned away from her. "Look, I heard rumors about..about your bethrotal to Lord Thomas Howe. Is that true?"
"Hmmm." Elissa put her hands on her back, and tiptoed to Ser Gilmore. She peered up at him under her lashes. "Are you jealous?"
He took a moment to reply. "I'm….not. I guess I'm happy for you."
Elissa dropped her act, surprised he would believe that. "You can't be serious. Tommy Howe is five years younger than I am."
"Some people can be married to someone younger than they are. And I've seen Arl Howe talking with your Father. I guess they're talking about your marriage with him."
'Yes, but Father said to him that I'm still young for bethrotals"
He heaved a sigh of relief. Then he turned to look at her and his expression hardened.
"Even if it wasn't true, the same thing will happen again. Next year, he will still ask for you in his son's behalf, and your father cannot put him off forever. It won't be just Arl Rendon who will come. All over Ferelden, noble sons will come to court you and talk with your father. And I can't…I can't stand by and watch." He weaved his hand in his hair. "Look, whatever we have, it must stop now. You're my Lord's daughter and I'm just a son of a poor squire. Without your father, I might have been left to be like my father, an ignoramus and a violent drunkard, not learning my letters, or know anything about being a knight. Anything better. The time I spent here is the best moments of my life. I am grateful, for your father and I have come to love your family-"
"And what about me?"
Ser Gilmore cupped his hands around her face and held her gently. "You were the best thing I have ever beheld. But you're meant to be an Arlessa or a teryna, while I'm..I'm not going to be more than a squire. I will only ruin you. And so, it's best that I leave"
"I don't care about being a teryna or an arlessa." She caresses the sleeve of his doublet and said softly, " I want you."
"If only it was that simple."
"It is! No one would force something to do what she doesn't want"
"What about your Mother?"
"What about my Mother?"
"What would she do if she found out about us? Or your Father? They'll be disappointed. They were counting on you to make a good marriage. But that's not going to happen when a lowly squire like me had the gall to court their daughter, like an ingrate."
"They shouldn't be expecting me to do that. Fergus should've done his duty in marrying a respectable Fereldan woman, instead of making a scandal abroad. I like Oriana and I adore Oren, but she is only a merchant's daughter. I know that in Antiva, merchants are as good as the nobility. But this is not Antiva. Lineage is more important than money. She does not have alliances and barely enough wealth to be a wife to a future teyrn" She checks herself as she considers who she was talking to. "Siblings other than the heir are exempt from this rule."
"Of course." he said, drily. He gripped her arms gently, expecting her to fight what he's going to say. "And now, you have to make those alliances."
"No. Fergus should still have made those. It was his responsibility."
"Would you have let the scandal to continue? Would you have prevented your brother from marrying her, if you know that a pair of Antivan blades will be sent to him from an angry father?"
She thought for a moment before saying "I suppose you're right. I don't want him dead. But I still don't like being forced to marry some noble."
"You know alliances shift all the time. You're not safe just being from a teryn's family. You have to have the ear of the king. And right now, the ear of the king is held by his father-in-law. And he is strongly against foreigners right now.
"Only Orlesians"
"Yes but there were already rumors that your family is becoming too friendly with Orlais. So your family need to prove that you are loyal Fereldans."
"He can't be seriously thinking we are in league with Orlesians! We are the Couslands, second only to the King. We have served the Theirins for generations. While he is an upstart, and so is his daughter, no matter how pretty or smart she is." She played with a curl of her hair, which was a dull bronze compared to the Queen's gold locks. "He has no right to be suspicious of us. We are loyal."
"No one's doubting your family's loyalty to the king. But your family's loyalty to his advisers? That's another matter."
Elissa paced as she considered this. "So I have to get married to somebody to appease these people?"
Ser Gilmore smiled sadly. "Be brave, Elissa"
"And you are running away from me and to the Wardens?"
"It's better this way."
They were silent. Elissa was near crying from frustration. She knew he was right; her mother had already suspected that there is something much more than the usual flirtation between them. But still, it's not fair. If only he was born noble as she is. She loved the knight because he was what she expected from them: honorable, chivalrous and brave. She never expected, however, that those same virtues she admired so much would be used against her.
Shouts interspersed with barks recalled them to the present and they remembered that they had yet to fetch the bloody dog.
"Shall we go to the kitchens then?"
"Lead the way, my Lady." He smiled, perhaps for the last time, with love.
Humans hiding in the bushes. Bandits, no doubt"
Mahariel looked at where Tamlen was aiming his bow. A trio of those had indeed been hiding in the bushes, protesting that they are not bandits.
"We've never done anything to you Dalish" The humans protested to the elves.
"Yes you have. You have wandered too close to our camp." Tamlen said, his bow still aimed at the boldest of them.
"We didn't mean to. We have just come from a cave."
"And what are you doing in there? Spying?"
"No, we didn't dare. We did'nt even know the Dalish are nearby"
"That is because you know nothing. Speak quickly! What are you doing in that cave?"
"It's not a cave, it's some ruin. We thought there were…. treasure"
"Treasure? Preposterous. There is no treasure." He drew the string tighter.
"Wait! I have proof!" one of them reached into his pockets and produced a stone tablet. "We found this in the entrance." Tamlen glanced at Mahariel, her bow still aimed at the humans, and lowered his. With a wary look, he snatched the trinket out the human's hands and examined it.
"Is this..elfish? Written in the language of our people?" Tamlen looked at the tablet in wonder.
"There's more..in the ruins." The human looked at them, still afraid, but there was also hunger in his eyes. "We..didn't get very far."
"And why not?"
"There was a demon. It was huge, with black eyes! Thank the Maker we were able to outrun it."
"Where is this cave?"
They gave out the directions to it.
"Let us live, alright?"
Tamlen looked at her. "Well, do you trust them? Shall we let them go?
Mahariel looked at the humans. Thieves. If this cave is true, then they have plundered what they have no right to have. Just as they have done for hundreds of years, since they arrived. And if they were let go, they would go to their own people and raise them up and drive them out, so they can steal what should have been rightfully theirs. Just as they have always done, all the way back from the days of Arlathan.
There is only one way to deal with humans.
"Kill them all" she said, letting go of the arrow.
He stood some minutes at the threshold of a house, when the door opened and a pair of dwarves greeted him.
"My lord Aeducan? What can we do for you?" said the man. More like what he can do for them.
The woman however, took one look at his face and the sack he had been carrying, then she knew. "Oh, nononono..my boy…my Brodda". She went down on her knees, keening in broken-hearted sobs.
"My dear, what's wrong?" said her husband, stupefied. "My lord?"
He took a deep breath. "I am sorry, Lord and Lady Gelmir. Your son has fallen in the Deep Roads but he had died a hero." He had done this many times, to the parents of those who had returned to the Stone through wounds and the Taint. It was his duty to perform and the last to every person under his command. He had led them to the life of a soldier, and it was only right that he will lead them out of it.
Lord Gelmir swayed as he stood, then knelt to comfort his wife. Finally he was overcome and he wept. The stranger heard this cry before, and he remembered how the son had cried like that, calling for his mother as he rotted from the inside. Before he lost his sanity, he asked him to give his armor back to his parents and he be the one to slit his throat. He had done all that, so here he was, the sack heavy in his hands, knowing that anything he can say will never be equal to their loss.
He had bequeathed the armor to them and said their son's final goodbye, before he left them in their own grief. He walked a little while, remembering the lad and also, saying farewell to his memory.
"Lord Thorin."
He whirled at the source of the voice. "Gorim. What are you doing here?" he said, to a red-haired dwarf leaning on a pillar.
Gorim snorted. "More like what are you doing here. Don't you remember what it is today?"
Thorin thought for a second and groaned.
"Indeed. There is a celebration for you for being promoted to Commander. I'm hoping you remembered or your elder brother will both have our hides. Although…" he looked at the house "it's not a good day for you, isn't it?"
"Celebrations are never a good day for me. I would have been happiest if we just drank all day until we are rolling on the floor and seeing double."
"Hmm, I would have liked that too. But it is your father's wish. He was so proud of you." He looked again at the house. "At least you deserve it" he said softly.
Thorin's face darkened. "Do not speak ill of the boy. He has done his duty, whatever he was." He had been too young, too rash, too boastful. It took Thorin all his will to make the boy be the warrior he was meant to be, but it was nearly too late. The Taint took him just after he started to outgrow that youthful recklessness and arrogance.
"Forgive me my Lord. So shall we go back to the palace?"
He let Gorim lead him to the palace, as he put out the memories the unfortunate boy forever out of his mind.
"Hey thanks." The elf said as he heaved the last of the plates to the kitchen sink. The portly human cook of the estate, just grunted.
"Lemme see ya thankin me when ya done with those." he said, pointing at the hall where the last of the diners had left.
"I meant, thank you for getting me in here. It's hard getting a job, now."
"If ya kept ya head down and stop gettin into fights, ya might have one better than this." He nodded at dirty plates, stacked a meter high at the sink. Tabris put on an apron and started washing.
"I don't get into fights. The fights get to me."
"All the same." a pause, then he asked. "Why ya so keen on getting a job anyway? I neva see ya anymore except when ya doing something or other."
"Hey, you mind if I get this?" Tabris asked as he held the trimmings of a loaf, the hard crusts that nobles are loathe to eat.
"Sure. Don't think they will miss that." Tabris smiled and put it carefully in a paper bag.
"I'm getting married."
"Wha?"
"I'm getting married. "
"So?"
"So, I have to have some money tucked away. It's not just me that I have to keep alive anymore.
"So that's why ya workin your ass. Why would ya do that, marrying? Ya still too young, ya know?"
"It's a…tradition of ours."
"Huh. Ya all crazy."
"That's rich, coming from a married guy like you."
"And the worst thing I've had ever done. Women bah. If ya just getting itchy, get a whore. She's not gonna screw you over till you die."
"I think that sounds fantastic actually."
"Hah. You're really crazy."
Tabris finished washing the plates and left to wipe down the dining table and chairs at the hall. It was late when he finished. When he was about to leave, the cook held him up.
"Here. To go with ya trimmings." He held another bag.
Tabris looked into it. It was high quality preserved meat. "You shouldn't. These are expensive."
"I'm not gonna let some elf tell me what I should do and don't do in my kitchen. Now go before I haul your sorry ass off."
"I don't know how I can repay you. Can I kiss you, at least?"
"Shove off."
Tabris put the bag in his pack.
"Ya a good boy. Not like those other elves."
"Thank you. Really."
"If ya wife turns out a hag, don't come crying to me, though. I warned ya."
"Right. I'll remember that."
And so Tabris walked out the estate with a light heart. He figured maybe he could trade the meat for fish. It would have been good if he could surprise his father and cousins to eat something so luxurious for once, but he knew they'll need coin for the wedding. But before he could do that, he spotted three humans who were loafing ahead the alley. The humans looked up and spotted him. He swore silently.
He clutched at his pack and turned to a sidepath, away from them, careful not letting his fear show. He drew his daggers from the secret pockets and put them inside his sleeves, making sure they can be whipped out if it came to worse. It did, as when he emerged at the end of the path, the same humans were waiting for him.
"What have you got there" said one of them, eyeing him up and down.
"Nothing. Just some garbage, that's all."
"Let me see."
He backed away. They saw that and they stepped closer.
"I said let me see."
"It's smelly and rotting. You don't really want to see this."
The human sneered at him and turned towards his companions. "Hey, this dirty knife ear is talking back to me. What do you say, boys?"
"I say we teach him a lesson" said his friend, drawing a knife from his pockets.
"You don't want to do that."
The humans stared at him.
"And why would we not?"
He looked them dead in the eye. "You don't want to die."
They stared at him for a moment and then they laughed. "Let's see if you still talk like that after we're done with you." He lunged.
He sprang back and ran backwards at the side path. The humans chased him, too confident in their skills. They didn't know, that with the wall on both sides of the path, they have already lost their advantage in numbers.
Tabris drew his own daggers and faced the one in front of him. As he thought, they were just thugs, all power and no skill. They didn't know they were facing someone who was trained in knife-fighting for years. And so the human looked surprised, when he dodged his knife and plunged his dagger between the ribs. The human was still looking at him, blood pouring from his mouth, not believing that he was beaten by a stinking knife-ear, as he slid to the ground. The others saw their friend fall and they yelled. The next one charged, heedless, and it was easy to use his own force to twist his neck. The last one saw his companion crumple to the ground, and stared at him now with fear in eyes.
"You piece of shit. I'm gonna make you pay for this!"
He died, bravely.
Tabris looked at his blood spattered clothes. The guard at the alienage will never let him in now with clothes like that past curfew. He thought for a moment then took off his shirt, reversed it and put it on. The stains are hardly noticeable now, looking like dirt instead of blood. He scooped a handful of mud and spattered it around his clothes. Let the guards think he's an idiot for putting his shirt on backwards and looking like he bathed in mud. The he looked around and saw the bodies.
No use hiding them. They're just another casualty of city living. But well, if he's going to risk being arrested because of them, they should at least give him something for their trouble. He checked around their pockets.
"I told you she should've been given the Rite of Tranquility. But you insisted she undergo the Harrowing! Thanks to you, we might have a powerful abomination in our hands."
A voice hissed above her. She heard boots pacing to and fro on her left. Then the voice continued "She already is too powerful for her age and she made it clear that she hates us. If she wakes, it will be with a demon"
"You and your men should not have smited her for every tantrum she throws, Gregoire" a soft weary voice answered.
"She throws more than a trantrum. She nearly destroyed the first level room with a fireball the other day. I've talked to the builders and they said any more would've have shot a hole through the walls. Imagine that, Irving! Not yet harrowed but she could blow a building to bits! We should put her down" the voice of the man named Gregiore said.
"That would be a waste of talent. Given enough time, she would be a great mage, and a treasure to the Circle."
Gregoire just snorted.
"I repeat, as I do now, that every mage should have a chance to prove themselves. And even the Chantry is not prepared for Tranquil children, Gregiore."
"She's not a child. She has the face of one, but at her heart, she is a fiend. She's uncontrollable, Irving!"
"She is mischievous but not malicious. "
"Not malicious? She set Cullen's hair on fire!"
"Then perhaps you should've have warned your people that she doesn't like templars touching her."
"Don't blame it on my men! They have every right to seize her when she's destroying Circle property!"
"Uh Knight Commander? I think she's waking up." said a nervous voice.
Who wouldn't with all that racket? The small elf girl slowly sat up and held her head in her hands, black locks falling over them as she tries to make sense of what happened in the Fade. The experience was certainly….harrowing.
"Are you alright, child?" First Enchanter Irving. The girl did not reply. Meanwhile, Knight Commander Gregoire and his templars were looking at her, hands on the pommel of their swords, as though she might sprout claws any second.
She saw that and her head snapped up. "What the-are you trying to use that on me? ARE YOU GOING TO CUT ME WHILE I'M ASLEEP?! Cowards!" She shot up straight, bristling like an angry goose.
Irving sighed. That the girl was fuming as usual is proof that demons had not got hold of her, though she is acting like it. "Good morning, Neria Surana. You have passed the Harrowing. From this day forth, you are now a junior mage of the Circle."
He might have farted for all the attention the girl gave him. Which is none. She was trembling from head to foot, her green eyes blazing at the armored men.
"Bring it on then! You want a fight? Fine, I'll give it to you. If I can wipe the floor with the big bad demon, I sure can do it with big bad templars!"
"Calm yourself, mage!"
"I HAVE A NAME, YOU STUPID TEMPLAR!"
"Enough! All of you, stand down." Irving shouted before the templars smite his new mage. "Gregoire, you know better than to give in to her baiting. Miss Surana, do not dishonor your new status on the day you got it by starting a fight. This should be a joyful occasion, for all of us."
"Well I'm not going to party with those tinheads." she huffed. "I'm going to sleep. I don't like being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night just so I could sleep on the cold floor." She turned her heel and was about to storm off to the apprentices' dormitory, when Irving called her back.
"Miss Surana, do not tell the other apprentices about the Harrowing. This must only be known to those have passed through it."
"Yeah yeah. Whatever" she said, suppressing a yawn. Then she promptly walked out of the room. Some of the templars moved as if to follow her but a look from Irving stopped them.
"She might be possessed, sir".
Irving turned to the knight commander. "Well, Gregoire?"
"Insolent as usual, but not possessed." He sheathed his sword and turned to the first enchanter. "You and I have to talk about how to control her. Now that she's harrowed, she must not be allowed to continue acting like that."
The first enchanter replied "You know, control is the last thing you should be doing. If it wasn't for it, all of this" he gestured towards the templars with the hands still on their swords "would not have been necessary."
Amadeus Amell had his head buried in books at the Circle library. Three more days of this drudgery and he could go. But not if he slaughtered everyone within the tower. So he's trying to find any reason why he could not strangle the necks of everyone and anyone he meets. Any reason will do.
"Shine my boots."
Grr.
"Heal those wounds."
Grr.
"Do my thesis."
GRRR.
He ought to be following up on the missing books. Not deal with this shit.
He heard his name being called. Again.
"Someone had better be dying!" he snarled.
"Does being made Tranquil count?"
Amadeus whirled around and found a Chantry initiate, the only one he can stand from the self-righteous twits. She was biting her lip and playing with her fingers, glancing from side to side.
"Oh, Lily. What is it?" he asked, his voice losing its sharp tone when he saw it was her. By the look of her, her reason for coming to him must be more serious than smuggling forbidden books right under the Chantry Mother's nose.
She whispered. "I need your help."
"About what?"
She told him what she needed doing.
He sat back and crossed his arms. "That's not a good idea Lily. You could get caught. I could get caught. And Gregoire's not the forgiving type."
"I know. But, I can't let him be Tranquil. It's not right."
They fell silent.
"So can you help me or not?"
He sighed. One last job, and he'll be out of this bloody tower.
"Then you need a plan."