Empty. The chest is empty, a twist to this simple job, as Edrear suspected there would be. Anso's request was far too straight forward, which was never the case regarding smuggler disputes. This was a set up, and he had to wonder who it was meant for, and who had organized it. Anso had questions to answer, and he'd best be forthcoming with what he had previously neglected to mention. A glance to Varric told Hawke the dwarf agreed as they looked on in dismay. It was time to get to the bottom of this. Hawke let the lid fall closed, never minding the loud bang it made.
"Who put us up to this?!" Varric bemused.
"Let's find out, shall we..."
Marching to the front door, Varric at his heels, Edrear threw it open and both step outside. He then resists the urge to bark out a curse the moment they're through the doorway. The challenge had not yet ended as is made clear by the numerous, armed, individuals, waiting to ambush their exit. Had he really expected any different? The trap is sprung. Yet, there is a pause before the mass throws themselves into thoughtless combat with the two rogues. A lady, presumably their lead, makes complaint. And her words raise yet more questions. Just what was really going on here?
"That's not the elf! Who is that?"
'Such charm.' Edrear thinks to himself.
One of her charges steps forward, brandishing his weapon and offering a response.
"It doesn't matter. We were told to kill whoever enters the house."
Hawke was beginning to regret taking on Athenril's recommendation, they were far outnumbered. And, despite not being the intended recipients to this charade, they were about to pay the price anyway. So far, this was more trouble than it was worth. The coin had better make up for it. Perhaps they would demand double the wage offered for this nonsense.
Leaving his bow at his back, he reaches instead for the daggers at his waiste. He preferred not to use them, preffered to engage foes at a distance and not close up. But, two designated archers against so many was sure to get them killed. One of them needed to hold these thugs off while the other thinned out the heard. Since Varric obviously had no blades with him, that automatically nominated Edrear for the task.
He springs into action, not trying to slay his enemies so much as hold off their nearly overwhelming assault. It is a battle dance riddled with many close calls, each one terrifying to the core. Meanwhile, Varric wastes no time taking to the unspoken plan. Arrows fly and Hawke strikes out with care, one by one their opponents keep falling. Slowly improving their odds with each tiny victory, until the end of the battle.
As luck would have it, they manage in fending off the ambush. Basking in their success, they loot the bodies for more clues to this plot, but find nothing. Panting lightly, Edrear turns to Varric.
"We'd better get compensation for this..."
"Agreed. What do you suppose they were talking about, with all that fuss about an elf?" The dwarf asked, aware Hawke knew nothing more than he did.
"I guess we only get that from Anso."
They made way back towards the street at the edge of the alienage, only to be suddenly intercepted by a man boasting the same armor as the freshly felled adversaries. Edrear groaned. It was highly unlikely this man was alone, which meant more risky hand to hand combat. They needed someone more than strict and busy Aveline who could weild a sword to join their wayward group. He was skilled enough in daggers, wise enough to use them in combat, but held a vast amount more finesse with delicately feathered arrows and a tight bow string. Unbeknownst to him, he was about to get his wish.
After a short ramble, which Edrear missed entirely, the scoundrel called to his allies. This refocused Hawke, and he prepared for an onslaught, but, none came. Instead, a single recruit came limping pathetically out of hiding, spilling burning colors, blood, all over the ground. He was near death, in fact, as he fell calling out to his Captain amidst choking on his breath. In place of the armored contenders that had been expexcted, a strange figure with a great sword at his back, stepped forth. Edrear hurriedly studied the features he could determine upon his first glimpse.
Rather tall and well muscled for an elf, the scowl on his face seemed almost natural. He held a haggard stance that seemed more of forced habit than anything else. But, what stood out above everything... Markings that were etched upon his warm skin. They were colored with greater heat than the rest of his flesh. Hawke was mystified.
This stranger warned the Captain that he should turn back while he still could. But the fool ignored the threat and grabbed at the warrior's shoulder, prompting a rather spectacular display in response. The heat in those strange patterns amplified, burning hot, as their odd guest turned and thrusted his armored fist through the enemy. Edrear took it all in, a head ache rising as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. With a jerk, the victim tried to scream but only managed a quiet gag. Pulling his fist away after a moment, the slaver fell dead, heart crushed. Then, their 'ally' turned back towards the gawking pair. And, breifly, Edrear wished Bethany had been present so he could ask for a proper description of this elf and his strange tattoos.
His attention turned back to the new corpses at their feet. Quickly shaking themselves out of their intrigue, both Hawke and Varric took on wary expressions. Their company was certainly dangerous. The stranger took it in stride.
"I apologize. When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they'd be so... numerous."
The newcomer offered in an unapologetic tone, thus, Edrear opted for humor in introduction.
"Don't worry, we were quite entertained by this little game. Now we can safely say, this was a trap that had nothing to do with greedy smugglers but a run away slave. I think we are doing rather well with the few clues we've been given. Wouldn't you agree Varric?" He brushes loose strands of hair back from his face.
"We certainly could've fared worse." The dwarf chuckles.
Their acquaintance stares for a moment, unamused.
"Perhaps the deception was not necessary. If so, I apologize."
He gives more sincerity this time, and Hawke takes to the truce with a nod.
"My name is Fenris. These Imperial bounty hunters were seeking to recover a Magister's lost property, namely myself."
Making direct eye contact with Edrear, he continues to explain.
"Crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely."
"So everything he said was a lie..."
"Not everything," Fenris assured him, "Your employer was simply not who you believed."
He still wanted answers, reasons. He was not yet satisfied with what he'd been told.
"If you couldn't face these bastards, why not just run?"
"There comes a point when you must stop running, when you turn and face the tiger."
Edrear wasn't sure he understood this notion. But, thinking on it only increased the light throbbing in his head, so he dismissed it.
"That seems like a lot of effort to retrieve one slave."
Fenris agreed to the statement.
"Does this have something to do with those markings?"
With slight laughter, he replied "Yes. I imagine I must look strange to you."
Hawke was certain he did not know just how strange...
"I did not receive these markings by choice, even so, they have served me well. Without them I would still be a slave."
A moment of silence held as Edrear let his thoughts run. He could not say that he felt sorry for the slavers. But, he felt he was no better than they were. And he had to wonder if, like the Archerons, or rather himself, many of them were just desperate people trying to make it by. Just like this runaway. Even if by terrible means.
All of his irritation at being tricked into this trap faded. Unlike with the hunters, he clearly did not have to question whether or not Fenris was a desperate man. That made them similar, and it bred understanding. He let all reservations go.
"If you were truly at risk of being recaptured, then I'm happy I helped."
The elf gave a sorrowful look.
"I have met few in my travels who have sought anything more than personal gain."
Hawke winced at this statement. He would not go so far as to claim this had nothing to do with personal gain. In fact, most of what he did was for himself.
Fenris didn't give him time to dwell on his secret shame.
"If I may ask, what was in the chest? The one they kept in the house."
"It was empty."
"I suppose it was too much to hope for. Even so, I had to know." He sighed.
Edrear was surprised.
"You were expecting something else?"
"I was, but I shouldn't have. It was bait. Nothing more."
An overstatement. Hawke hadn't expected anything different from the beginning.
"Well, what now?"
Fenris stooped to search the Captain's belt pouches, pulling from one a small scroll of paper bearing an ornate seal. He did not bother to scan it's contents, but stashed it in one of his own pouches and stood, addressing Edrear.
"It is as I thought," his voice dripped with despise "My former Master accompanied them to the city. I know you have questions, but I must confront him before he flees."
Hawke didn't need to guess at his intentions. Killing the man was the most efficient way to ensure his freedom. The only way he could be freed without doubt. Although Edrear assumed there would be hardly any gold to garner from this task, he sympathized too readily with this elf. Not to mention Hawke did want to abolish some of his less honorable traits. He wanted to better himself, if only a little. And he needed to start somewhere. He had already come this far through it, and there'd be plenty more opportunities to earn the coin he needed. With a sigh, Edrear resigned to his self convincing argument.
"Its going to be a long night..."
"I will find a way to repay you, I swear it." Fenris vowed.
