Varric stared out the window. Another rainy day in Kirkwall. A bolt of lightning briefly illuminated the Gallows. After four days of the downpour, he didn't envy the inhabitants. The griffins were often temperamental, and that problem only grew worse when they were both wet and confined.
He went back to his desk. Aveline was requesting additional something for the guard. He signed his approval without bothering to finish reading the request. Nobles had complaints. How Hawke could manage to burn down a building in the middle of a torrential downpour was something of a puzzle. You'd think people would start hiring security rather than let criminals squat in their abandoned buildings if they were so worried about Hawke burning the place down.
He was trying to decide if he was thirsty enough to walk the fifteen feet to the liquor cabinet when someone set a glass down in front of him. "A thousand blessings upon your house." He looked up at his seneschal.
Caleb moved aside some of the messages and set a plate full of Orana's delicious pasties down on the desk. He dragged a chair over and sat down across from him. "I think the rain is actually managing to keep some of the petitioners in their home." He helped himself to one of the pasties.
"Just means they'll use the time to write longer and more ridiculous requests." Varric moved stiffly in his chair, and then narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Did you dose my drink?"
"No," Caleb said.
"You're lying."
"If you'd take your medicine like you're supposed to, I wouldn't have to." Caleb smiled.
For a moment, he just stared at the glass. Dammit, but it was a sin to let good brandy go to waste. He sighed, and took a swallow before helping himself to the food. Caleb pulled some of the papers to him and began going through them. Varric settled back in his chair. By the time the pastie was consumed, the pain in his knee was starting to ease. Once again, he cursed himself for being stubborn. He should just take the medicine, but then he'd have to start acknowledging that he was getting old. He looked up when his office door opened. "Hey there Lina."
"Grandpa Varric." Caleb's daughter entered the room, carrying what smelled like pie. "I thought I'd find the two of you eating at work again."
"And like a good girl, you brought dessert." Caleb cleared a spot on the desk.
He let the first bite of pie sit on his tongue for a moment. At twelve, Evelina was already starting to rival Orana as the best baker in Kirkwall. "You've outdone yourself." He thought about licking the plate clean, and decided to abuse his power instead. "Why don't you cut me another slice of that?"
"One slice of pie." Evelina narrowed her eyes. "Aunt Salla was very concerned you aren't watching your diet properly."
"What she doesn't know won't hurt me." Varric held out the empty plate and gave her his best puppy eyes.
She looked down at the pie, and then back at him. "It's going to cost you."
"I'll give you the key to the city."
"You already did." Caleb didn't look up from the papers.
"I did?" Varric frowned. "When?"
"The peach cobbler."
"Oh, that's right." Varric nodded. "A knighthood."
"Did that too."
Evelina giggled. "I'll settle for a story." She cut the pie and put it on his plate.
"Anything in particular."
She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Why don't you tell me about the Inquisitor?"
"You've read my book."
"Everyone's read your book." Evelina shook her head. "And it's all a bunch of lies. You admitted that yourself. I want to know the real story."
The pie sat on the plate in front of him. Varric sighed. "Trust me, kid. The lie makes for a much better story."
"Please?"
"Can't say I'd mind knowing what really happened." Caleb sat back. "I know some of it. Like how Papa nearly died."
Varric sighed, then drained the glass of brandy. "Well, then, pour me another. This isn't the kind of story one tells while sober."