The personal journal of Varric Tethras

by Setrus

Call it a diary if you will, but if you had a life like me, and wrote as many stories as me, you'd keep notes too just to keep your own thoughts straight. Varric A selection of short entries written in the span of Varric's life, from how his life begins to change in Kirkwall to the end of the Inquisition's story. Follows the storyline of my previous works, so spoilers...

1. Chapter 1

30th year of the Dragon age, Kingsway, 2nd Tuesday:

Bartrand's being greedy, again.

Though I guess that's a lie, you can't do something again if you never stopped in the first place. Still, this scheme takes the cake, runs away with it and throws it into the Knight-Commander's face. Then it probably moons her in front of her personal guard.

I mean really, an expedition to the Deep Roads? Bartrand's a good gambler when it comes to money, but lives I'm not so sure about. What's wrong with what we have, anyway? We have a large estate. We have what, a few hundred people working for us? Guards, spies, merchants, workers, cooks, servants, we have it all. Sure, not everything is perfect (I blame Bartrand for all such issues, I'm right almost half the time) but more money won't really solve anything. Would just lead to more bookkeeping, as far as I'm concerned.

But I am, as I'll always be, the second son, not the one with the final say in the matter.

I thank the Maker for that every day, but days like these it's harder. Would be so satisfying to just say 'no' to that demanding prick. Damn, should erase that, what if someone reads it? Actually, if they do, they'd probably agree with me.

And there I went on a tangent, jeez, I don't know what my readers see in my books.

Suffice to say is that writing will have to take a back seat for a while now though, I can already feel my fingers itch in worry. But there's a lot to do, something Bartrand wastes no time in reminding me of again and again. Got to fire the servants, too much money being wasted there, damn, poor people. Then there's stocks to sell off so we can put our merchants out of work, leaving us but with guards and the few surviving cooks out there. Glad Kirkwall is the city of opportunities, but bloody hell, brother, that's a lot of good people we'll lose.

But costs need to be reduced, things bought in bulk for this long trek, the location offered on Bartrand's map checked out, and I'll have to do that while enduring Bartrand's mood the entire way. Andraste's tits, this is one of the times I hate being the younger brother, I'm allergic to work, damn it.

I hope Bartrand knows what he's doing, the house of Tethras isn't liked, respected, sure, but not liked. There won't be any favours or help if this expedition fails and we find ourselves low on funds.

Still, it's not an entirely shitty plan. The darkspawn are busy butchering people in Ferelden, and though there's word that there's hope in ending the blight early, even that wouldn't mean the darkspawn return to the Deep Roads instantly, or in numbers. Kind of disgusting to see my brother to pray for the blight to continue, but then again, I shouldn't be surprised.

So we go in, nab whatever treasure Bartrand has his eyes on, get out. Considering how much wealth is still down there since the first wars with the darkspawn we could indeed make a fortune to set up us for life. I just hope my brother will be content with that.

Somehow I doubt that.

And now he's stomped in roaring at the one secretary we have left, poor Lucy. Right, should I leave for the Hanged Man and have an ale or ten, or help her and draw Bartrand's ire?

Eh, why not both? Lucy drinks with the best of them.

~V

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Thanks to my angelpie, Abydos Jackson.