Chapter 1
"Morrigan, how many times do I have to tell you not to insult the customers?" The boss of DA Café reprimanded the raven-haired beauty.
"What is the problem? 'Tis appropriate to respond with an insult if one is insulted," Morrigan argued, with her arms folded defiantly.
"Please, stop talking like that," the boss sighed, and smacked a palm tiredly over her eyes.
Morrigan knitted her brow in frustration. "'Tis it not appropriate to stay in character when one is working at medieval theme restaurant, oh great and powerful Inquisitor?" Morrigan sarcastically said, egging her boss on. Morrigan continued being overdramatic and was waving her arms up and down in mock worship. "What shall you require of me next? Lick the heel of your boots?"
"No," the "Inquisitor simply sighed in response, not bothering to continue with her daily argument with Morrigan. She instead tried to focus on her daily checklist of supplies they needed to stock the kitchen while ignoring Morrigan's glare.
Before Morrigan could make another insult to the "Inquisitor" clearly not caring about the fact she could be fired at any time, Alistair, the co-owner, came up to the display case of baked goods and leaned over the counter.
"What seems to be the problem now, Inquisitor?" Alistair said, playing along with the titles they were assigned to – it was extremely bizarre at first pretending to be living in a completely made up world, but whether they wanted to admit it or not, they actually enjoyed the role-playing.
"Nothing, Alistair. Just the usual Morrigan stuff," the Inquisitor sighed, tiredly.
"Oh, you mean the Apostate?" Alistair chuckled at the inside joke between them. Originally, Morrigan had simply been given the job description of being the mage, but the Inquisitor and Alistair decided to take it a step further and label her as an Apostate. An Apostate, according to their definition, was a rebel mage. And they decided since Morrigan had a complete disregard for all the rules and procedures of the workplace, she'd fit the role perfectly.
"Must we persist in believing we are in some kind of alternative reality where magic and dragons exist? Nerds," Morrigan said, and added under her breath, "Why did I drop out of high school?"
"Says the woman who can't seem to stop using the words 'tis and 'twill even though no customers are around," the Inquisitor said, and Morrigan noticeably blushed, but she only clicked her tongue irritably – refusing to confess how she somewhat liked pretending to be someone else for a change.
Alistair and the Inquisitor looked at each other and reveled in their geeky companionship. They had come up with the restaurant's concept together after deciding they simply had to place their love of fantasy into an outlet. And thus, DA Café was born where dragons, mages, and coffee prevailed, oh, and other various baked goods like Carta Cannolis.
"What do you think, Alistair? Are you going to strike this witchy apostate down for talking back to a Templar?" The Inquisitor continued the charade.
"Wait, I thought we decided I'm now some kind of big-time Grey Warden who used to serve alongside the previous owner, the Fer—uh, what was it? Feral—no, falafel Hero or something?" Alistair muttered, as he tried to remember where they last left off in their fabricated lives.
"Hero of Ferelden," the Inquisitor helped jog Alistair's minimal memory.
"Ah, right! Ferelden," Alistair quipped. "Where the hell did we come up with the name of a place called Ferelden?"
The Inquisitor shrugged her shoulders and said, "I think we were pretty wasted that night when we came up with most of the names and terminology of this world."
Morrigan scoffed, quickly losing her patience. "I can't believe you two are actually my bosses."
"Hey, it's our creative minds that helped us become so successful. That, and dragons are always an undying trend aren't they?" Alistair realized.
The Inquisitor nodded her head eagerly in agreement and replied, "True. I mean just look at how popular Game of Thrones is."
"I love that show," Alistair gushed.
"I despise it," Morrigan refuted.
Alistair and the Inquisitor gasped simultaneously in horror. "How can you hate Game of Thrones?" Alistair had to ask.
"'Tis a tedious show to drudge through. I see more flaccid penises than dragons and the plot is like watching a soap opera with its endless betrayals and daddy issues," Morrigan explained, ignoring a customer who was asking for extra sugar packets.
The Inquisitor handed the irate customer the sugar and said, "But the over-the-top nudity is what makes it so good. I mean, it kind of keeps you on your toes because just when you think a dragon is going to show up or something cool is going to happen like an ice zombie popping out of the snow, then suddenly, wham! Dangly bits and breasts everywhere! It's kind of fascinating really. Like a car crash you can't turn away from."
"I'm going to have to agree with pretty much everything you just said," Alistair seriously said.
Morrigan huffed. She was staring absentmindedly at her dark painted nails until another employee came up to the counter. It was Leliana, the head of security or the "Spymaster" (ooh scary).
"Has anyone seen, Sera?" Leliana inquired, in her lyrical French accent. She looked serious as her sharp eyes panned the three standing idly.
They all shook their head no. Sera was unpredictable. She could be anywhere from the bathroom to Mars for all they knew.
Leliana sighed and said, "I caught her placing cherry bombs in the trash bins outside the bathrooms, but afterwards, she just disappeared from all of the security cameras."
"I dunno. Maybe ask Cullen. Isn't he supposed to be on duty today?" Alistair suggested.
Just as he said Cullen's name, the dashing security guard (previous Knight-Commander) came bumbling towards them with a streak of black powder on his face mixed in with bits of cake. "Sera just blew a bomb in front of my face!" He cried, his blonde wavy hair falling loosely over his forehead as chunks of frosting slid off his reddened cheeks. "She put a cherry bomb inside of a piece of cake and gave it to me!"
They stared at Cullen as he wiped the remaining cake residue off his cheek and continued his rant. "Luckily, I caught sight of the bomb and shielded my face just in time before the damn thing went off. I don't know why you guys even keep her around after all the stuff she's done."
"Oh, come on Cully-wully," Alistair teased. "Your handsome face is still intact for the ladies. Thank the Maker since you bring in most of our female clientele," Alistair mumbled. "Don't worry about it. Hey, look on the bright side. If you get a scar from this incident, you can make up an extravagant lie and make yourself seem like some wounded hero or something. Then you'll get double the affection for being troubled and wounded which equals more revenue for us. Yay."
Cullen only glared angrily at Alistair and then said to the Inquisitor. "Sera needs to be fired. She's been nothing but trouble since the day you hired her. She's tripped Blackwall off the stage several times, defaced Dorian's advertisement posters, and even acted completely inappropriate in front of children with Isabella," Cullen beseeched. "The list goes on and on."
"Yeah, but you have to admit she's a pretty good drummer. I mean she is now officially part of the band which is the biggest attraction we have. I suppose the decision is up to Iron Bull and The Chargers. He's the boss of them," The Inquisitor decided, and watched as Cullen dropped his shoulders in defeat.
"Alright, but if she does one more thing to me personally – it's either she goes or I go," Cullen concluded, and walked away with Leliana back to the security room to do whatever it is they did.
"Well, that went well," Morrigan sarcastically said, and then proceeded towards the backroom to most likely slack off.
"Our employees are the best, huh?" Alistair said, and laughed at the blatant lie.
"Yeah, well, welcome to Dragon Age," the Inquisitor exasperatedly sighed.