The barracks was ablaze with the sounds of shuffling and banter. Men and woman, bearing the green shield of Denerim's guard on their glistening armor, had converged upon the dining halls and hallways upon the remaining open spaces of the barracks, leaving no plank untouched and no wall without a back to embrace. While words flooded the stone walls and creaky floors, a guardsman, carrying a book thicker than his waist, sped down the corridors without so much as a sound leaving his silver-plated helm. His fellow guards gave him the occasional glare, however their implied insistence that nobody should do anything that would cause the guard-captain to send them out early was ignored; this man was serious. The guard believed himself to be beyond rank and file, or at least that is what the guard-captain believed when the book-keeper entered his chambers without being invited in. As the door swung open, the guard-captain and the sergeant he was talking to gave stares that foreshadowed punishment, punishment the guardsman knew he would not be receiving.
The chamber of the guard-captain were small, but hospitable. Torches provided the orange glow that covered almost the entire room, including the enormous stack of papers upon the guard-captain's desk. Paintings of Andraste and Mabaris gave life to the homogeneous stone walls, which was made out of solid grey slabs with the occasional brick or wooden beam to support it. The guard-captain's bed stood tall against the far side of the room, with its red sheets still fumbled from when the guard-captain awoke that morning. The guardsman had never been in this room before; those of his rank who had were typically receiving chastisement. While his two superiors were glaring upon him, the guardsman had the opportunity to glace around the room as if it contained lost treasure, only then realizing that he needed to report.
"Guard-Captain Balis, sir, I have something for you." The guardsman said, attempting to justify his rude entrance. Balis and the sergeant continued to glare at him, insulted by what they perceived to be insubordination.
"What is so important that you would interrupt my conversation with Sergeant Corell and enter my chambers without permission?" Balis' inquiry was met with the guardsman displaying the book as if it were a product for sale by a merchant. Balis, sitting at his desk with his arms folded and a scowl upon his face, examined the cover. The red hide was marked with a large Carta symbol in its center with tan pages attempting to burst out of the sides like a rive colliding with a mountain. The more he internalized what he was viewing, the more annoyed he became.
The tension in the air was thick. In an attempt to avoid a prolonged, awkward silence, the guardsman explained what he was holding. "It's the report; it's finished."
Corell stepped back in astonishment, his emotions defined by his dropped jaw. "That's a report? Andraste's tits, that book is thicker than ol' Murray's backside!"
"Yes, but I never had to read his arse, thank the Maker."
Corell and Balis chuckled, however the slight grin Balis had just granted himself quickly changed into serious expression.
"As you can see, I have seemingly endless piles of reports here on my desk. Thievery, murder, adultery, the list itself could cover Murray's arse four times over. So tell me, guardsman, what makes this report so valuable that you would enter here uninvited and risk a day's punishment?"
"Sir, this is the report, the one about..."
Balis rapidly thrusted himself up from his chair, as he had no realized what was in the book. With his eyes fixed upon the enormous text, Balis slowly walked over to the guardsman, who handed him the report gently. The guard-captain stood and admired the book in awe, its Carta imprint now having new connotations.
Balis turned to Corell, who appeared confused at the guard-captain's sudden change in attitude. "Corell, I need you to leave my office immediately."
"But sir..."
"Do I need to drag you out myself? That's an order: leave now!"
Corell walked out of the torch-lit room, grumbling to himself as he closed the large, wooden door behind him. Balis, entranced by possible information inside the report, returned to his desk and sat down. The guard-captain began to move the stacks of sheets into a corner of the stone room, where the light of the orange flames reflected off the the few bricks and posts used to support the wall-stone. For the first time in what had felt like years, Balis was able to see the top of his desk, a dark brown wood glistening with the dance of the embers. He laid the book upon the desk and flipped through the pages, skimming over the words, pictures and diagrams that littered its pages.
"These descriptions... these people... so much detail..." Balis looked up at the guardsman, with a smile none had claim to ever see. "How did you get all this information? Most people will barely tell a guardsman their name let alone information on criminals."
"Let's just say I had to ruffle some bed-sheets in order to obtain this information." Balis shook his head in shame. He knew what the guardsman meant, however he was still disapproving of the way he chose to word that thought. His patience for things like this is what got him to become a guard-captain to begin with. Many of the men he lead never received an education, something his predecessors were unable to take into account when the guardsmen would do or say something foolish. Instead of insulting him like the guard-captains before would have loved to, Balis attempted to keep his shame to himself.
"There has got to be a better way to word that..." Balis grumbled under his breath.
"Did you say something, sir?"
"It's nothing, guardsman." Balis looked up at the guardsman, who appeared to be concerned. "You put this whole thing together, yes?"
"I did indeed, sir. I was instructed to be Sergeant Matthew."
"Of course he would, that lazy bastard. I told him to make the report." Balis noticed that his frustration was unintentionally worrying the guardsman. "Regardless, you are the one who made it, so you are the one who will reap the rewards."
"Thank you, sir."
Balis began to examine the pages more closely. He was in awe, he had never seen drawings this well-crafted or first-hand accounts so detailed. "This is extraordinary. You have accounts from casteless dwarves, dalish elves; you even have statements from Knight-Commander Greagoir." Balis continued to flip through and review the pages of treasure placed before him. "And these drawings, they are so detailed and designed flawlessly."
The guardsman straightened himself up with pride. "I tried my best, sir. Sergeant Matthew said this was extremely important to you and I did not want to fail my superiors."
After the initial shock, Balis' mind leveled with reason. "Of course, this is a large report for an investigation into three criminals. I suppose I'll be spending the rest of my days combing through this information."
"That won't be necessary." The guardsmen exclaimed. "I've made a summary of all the things I compiled in that report. Would you like to hear it?
Balis sat still, lost in his own thoughts. Is it worth my time to read this or should I trust this guardsman? He thought. After a minute of awkward silence, Balis finally spoke. "Alright, give me your summary, but be as detailed as possible."
"Very well, sir. Where should I start?"
"Every story starts somewhere, lad, I suggest you start with their backgrounds: who are these people that have been terrorizing our great nation of Fereldan during a Blight and where did they come from?" The guardsman start itching the back of his head, pondering which of the criminals he should describe first. Balis leaned back in his chair, preparing to hear what would be a very long tale. With a sudden burst of energy, the guardsman turned directly to Balis.
"I know! I'll start our adventure by going downward." After cringing, Balis began to listen to the guardsman. As his tale swam through the room like fish in the sea, the halls outside became silent. Silence: an entity that could tell its own story. Through wild words and enormous amounts of contextual information, bits and pieces of the lives these wanted men became more apparent; the criminals were humanized. Balis found himself engulfed, for he had never expected the story of Mokka, Cappi and Esso to be as truly complex and introquette as it was.