At dawn, the glittering remnants of an ancient empire capture the rays of the sun. These remnants soar above the city below, beautiful gilded ivory towers that have stood the test of time and war. The rest of the city cowers in the shadows; decrepit buildings lie forlorn on every block, blurring into the jet stone that form their base - a cliff surrounded by the sea. There are people, so many people, littering the streets. Many stare vacantly ahead of them, others bustle from place to place, and merchants cry out their wares. The brisk sea air, accompanied by a sharp aftertaste of fish, mask the stench of waste. The docks and shipyards see the most activity, and from dawn til dusk are a flurry of moving bodies. A single bridge connects the city to the mainland, a small bridge easily destroyed in times of need, and just as easily repaired. Cecilia takes a deep breath as she follows Laputa into the markets of Minrathous. Her nose scrunches at the conflicting scents of spice, human waste, and the sea. She keeps closely to the elf in front of her as she weaves through the crowd. They come to a stop at a stall selling fruit. Laputa sifts through the fruit determinedly, inspecting each with care. The merchant, a dark haired human, puffs with pride, intent on his next sale. Cecilia herself studies the stall, surprised at the familiarity of some of the fruit. Apples, oranges, and others she knows sit among strangers of bright colors and myriad shapes. She reaches for an apple, the deepest red she's ever seen, and hands the merchant a copper. Biting into it, the sweet juice fills her mouth, refreshing her. As she continues to eat her apple, she looks at Laputa, basket half full with fruit, as she makes her way back to the merchant. The elf begins haggling with the man- they bicker for quite some time before Laputa comes away triumphant. Joining Cecilia, Laputa smiles and sticks a stray hair behind a pointed ear. Smiling, she says, "You didn't have to come with me, milady. It's dreadfully early."

Cecilia throws the core of the apple away, replying, "No, I didn't. But I couldn't stand to be stuck in that house anymore."

Laputa laughs. "You've only been there a week."

Cecilia snorts. "Time is an illusion, Laputa."

Laputa raises an eyebrow. "You've been spending too much time with Master Alexius."

"Not really. It's Dorian I spend most of my time with. Alexius is too busy doing whatever it is magisters do with their lives. I'm stuck listening to Dorian theorize." Cecilia brushes a stray hair from her face.

A chuckle. "At least he's pretty to look at."

Cecilia stops, bracing a hand on Laputa's arm. "Laputa, no. Don't be fooled by his looks. He's an arrogant prick who thinks he's a gift to the world."

"Most magisters are, milady. Though I have to say, as far as magisters go, Master Dorian is very kind. Master Alexius is too, for that matter."

Derisively, Cecilia comments, "He hit poor little Kory for not putting enough sugar in his wife's tea."

Laputa nods seriously. "He shouldn't have. Kory has been making her tea for a while now."

"Still, hitting a little boy for an honest mistake seems unnecessary."

Laputa sighs. "I'm afraid you have no idea, milady."

"You're right. I've been very fortunate." She frowns, " I couldn't imagine living as a slave."

"I hope you never have to."

"Me too." Cecilia answers, linking arms with the young elf. Laputa stiffens, but does not pull away. The two continue through the markets, filling Laputa's basket as they go. Near noon, Cecilia is perusing books in a small corner shop. Most sound sinister, boasting myriad spells and enchantment. She runs her hands along the spines, relishing the leather of the tomes. Her hand catches on a red-tinted spine emblazoned with The Tevinter Imperium by one Ferdinand Genitivi. Flicking to the first page, she reads:

The Imperium is little more than a dilapidated old slattern, crouching in the far north of Thedas, drunkenly cursing at the passerby to recall her faded beauty…

"Ah, so you do have good taste." Cecilia jumps at the voice, dropping the book and whirling to her assailant.

Dorian stands before her, wearing a smile that would put the Chesire cat to shame. The young man bends to retrieve the text, standing and offering it to her pointedly. With a huff, she takes it, snapping, "You shouldn't sneak up on people. It's rude."

Dorian bows, taking her hand and kissing it.. With a smirk, he drawls, "My humblest apologies, my lady."

She snatches her hand away, rolling her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Dorian gives an affronted look, gesturing around the shop. "I wasn't aware I couldn't visit a book shop."

Grudgingly, she apologizes, "I'm sorry. Of course you can. Still, you haven't answered my question."

He gives her a mischievous grin, patting the stack of books under his arm. "Research."

"Something tells me I'm not going to like this." she groans.

"Probably not." He responds cheerfully. She covers her face as they make their way to the shop owner. Dorian places his books on the counter, then wrestles her book from her grasp.

"I can buy that." She protests, reaching for it.

He gives her a sidelong glance. "You're using the money I gave you. Either way, I'm buying it."

"It's really the least you could do after you trapped me here." She crosses her arms.

"Granted. Still, Brother Genitivi is a gift. Let me give him to you, even if a good portion of his works reside in Alexius' library." he states resolutely, giving the shopkeeper coin.

"Genitivi is a Brother?"

"Yes, in the…. other Chantry. You've heard of the Chantry, yes?"

Cecilia grabs the book, and hugging it close to her chest, retorts, "Yes, I know the Chantry."

Satisfied, Dorian pats her head. "I'm glad you've retained something of the lessons I've been giving."

Pushing him away she bites out, "They're not 'lessons'! They're barely veiled rants on how intelligent you think you are."

The mage clutches his chest, crying, "Oh! How you wound me, Cecilia!"

She bends her head over her book, muttering "Oh God" as she rushes from the store. Out on the street, she nearly bumps into someone. Raising her arms placatingly, she sputters, "I am so sorry!"

A familiar chuckle greets her ears. "It's quite alright, milady."

Cecilia sighs in relief, "Oh, thank goodness, Laputa. Did you get all your shopping done?"

"Yes. Did you get what you needed?"

Cecilia glances over her shoulder. "Yes… and no."

Dorian chooses that moment to exit the store, swaggering toward the pair, a shiteating grin on his face. Laputa bobs a quick curtsy, a quick "Master Dorian" spilling from her mouth. Dorian nods to her, smile becoming more gentle. "Laputa. Lovely morning, isn't it?"

The elf blushes, turning her head. "Yes, milord."

A bell tolls from the middle of the city, marking noon. Laputa jumps at the sound, a panicked look on her face. Eyes wide, she gasps, "I have to get these to Aris! She won't be able to make Mistress' lunch."

"We'll get there in time. Lady Lydia takes her lunch at half past. We can make it." Cecilia reassures.

Dorian snickers, but it quickly chastised by Cecilia's glare. "Let's go!"

Laputa leads the charge, dashing through the crowd with Cecilia close behind. A ways down the street, passersby fling themselves to the side as a carriage careens down the road. It is black and silver, covered in rich brocade with silver plated wheels. Cecilia stops when a man abruptly shoves into her. She trips, but catches herself from falling. There's a small cry from the middle of the road; her eyes follow the sound, lighting on a young boy who has fallen in the carriage's path. With a shove her book in Laputa's general direction, she pushes through the wave of bodies and to the boy, scooping him into her arms. The thundering of hooves gets closer, and she freezes; eyes closed against the boy whimpers against her chest. Please, whoever is listening... "Whoa!"

Horses whinny in fear, and hooves trample the ground. Cecilia opens her eyes. She finds herself eye to eye with a very annoyed thoroughbred. She smiles wanly at it. It throws its head in dismissal. She looks down at the boy in her arms, staring up at her with wide jewel blue eyes, terrified. She sets the boy down and crouches down to his level. Brushing the dirt from his clothes, she smiles, "What's your name?"

Pointed ears burning red, he hangs his head, mumbling, "Jo..n..a…"

She tilts her head, gently probing, "What was that?"

The little one lifts his head, squaring his jaw. "Jonah, milady."

Grasping his hands, she asks, "Are you alright, Jonah?"

"Y-Yes."

Beaming, she gestures to the crowd, stock still at the scene. "Are you here with your mother, Jonah?"

"Yes, milady. She's right there." He points to a stricken elven woman wringing her hands across the road.

Cecilia ruffles his hair, then nudges him toward her. "Go to your mother. Don't stray again, alright?"

Jonah nods, and runs towards his mother, who hugs him tightly. Cecilia stands, dusting off her skirts. Inside the carriage, there is grumbling as a footman opens the door. From it, an enraged man steps out. Cropped dark hair, peppered with salt, throws his features in stark relief. A hooked nose seems suited to the disdainfully curled lip it overlooks. He surveys the scene, eyes narrowing as they alight on the lone figure in the middle of the street. The man - Magister- strides toward Cecilia, grey silk robes flaring. A red mantle fits over his shoulders, clasping at his neck with a silver dragon. A tall, wiry elf shadows him; one step to his right and two behind. Silver tattoos line his body, matching the short mop of hair on his head. His cheekbones are high and sharper than the knife at his back. Eyes the color of moss blankly observe the area, flicking back and forth. Cecilia clenches her jaw, a tense smile pasting itself to her face as they approach her. Cutting to the chase, he demands, "What is the meaning of this?"

Gritting her teeth, she replies, "Your carriage nearly killed a boy… my lord."

Unimpressed, he responds, "I fail to see how that is grounds for tossing me about my carriage."

"You don't see how that's…? A boy nearly died! That doesn't bother you?"

"Should it?" He sneers.

Throwing her arms in the air, she bursts out, "Yes, it should!"

"Why should I care for the life of a slave?"

"Listen, you son of a-"

Dorian jumps in and restrains her, interrupting, "My lord Danarius. My apologies. Cecilia here is new to the Imperium."

The three stand triangulate as silence reigns. Ages seem to pass as the senior mage stares down the interloper. Finally, Danarius arches an eyebrow. "You are… Halward's boy, yes?"

Straightening, Dorian replies, "Yes, milord. Dorian Pavus."

The magister's eyes turn to ice as a muscle jumps in his jaw. "Tell me, Dorian, how are you acquainted with such an… enthusiastic… young lady?"

Dorian glances at Cecilia, who returns his stare evenly. "She is… the niece of my master Alexius, my lord."

The magister raises his eyebrows. "Niece?"

Dorian nods. "Yes. By his disgraced sister. The one who married the Orlesian."

"Hnn. Yes, I remember her well. They do resemble each other..." he muses.

Dorian and Cecilia glance at each other. Really, Dorian? Niece? Danarius seems to debate inwardly with himself before returning his attention to the two, speaking, "Very well. Dorian, you remind your master - and your father - of the fete I am holding at my estate next Saturday. He will bring his niece. Understood?"

Dorian swallows, "Yes, my lord."

With that, the magister turns and, robes billowing, stalks to his carriage, accompanied by his elven shadow. The two invitees walk back to the side of the road, shellshocked. They barely register the carriage as it passes by. Once the carriage is gone, Dorian takes a deep breath and smiles. "Well, that went well!"

Cecilia stares at him incredulously. "In what world do you live in which that went well!?"

Dorian waves a hand in dismissal. "Please, that was nothing. I'm really just surprised there wasn't lightning involved. There's always lightning." he clears his throat, "Anyway, Father and Alexius will be pleased; Danarius is a big deal."

Cecilia scoffs, "I'm glad I could help."

"I'll take that as a thank you for saving your life. You're welcome."

"You're insufferable."

"You know I don't hear that as often as you would think?"

"Whatever. So… Who was that man behind Danarius? The one that was all glowy?"

Dorian grows serious. "That is his bodyguard, Fenris. The tattoos are made of lyrium. Danarius sank a fortune into that slave. It's his greatest achievement, making those markings."

Cecilia takes her book from Laputa, questioning, "That sounds really illegal."

Dorian shrugs. "The act itself isn't. The method? Probably. No one really cares, though."

"How could you not care?"

"Power is paramount, here, duckling. You get it however you can."

Cecilia huffs, "Don't call me that. I'm older than you." Taking a breath, she continues, "That seems extremely dangerous."

The mage shoots her a wolfish grin over his shoulder. "Now you understand. Come, you only have two weeks to learn how to dance."