-Denerim 9:41-
Ferelden's capital city was a bustle of traffic, people making their way in the crowded narrow streets. The high noon sun beams above the towering statue of Andraste the Maker's prophet and spouse. Her arms stretched out as if showing a sign of nurturing to her people below, it being a symbol on how Denerim had far come from the Fifth Blight. A decade ago buildings where in rumbles and ash and the population small from the many casualties and or folk leaving the city all together. Now the city has raised like phoenix and thrives once more as Ferelden's great capital.
It did Ser Damon good to see Ferelden and her people recover so adamantly. But he was not here to take account of the welfare of Ferelden, he was here on exact business. Past the heavy market area of the town square near the docks in the damp narrow alleyways, the Knight-Captain strides away briskly through the cobblestone streets overlooking the shady dockhands and vagrants huddled together. A hooded cloak atop his steel plated chainmail obscures his face for he did not wish to draw attention to himself. Instead making his way to his destination as quickly as possible.
Luckily he had finally arrived, aside from the cramped wooden town homes and buildings that aligned the dock area, there was a well built sturdy bricked three story building, decorated in healthy green vines and roses. The Pearl as the establishment named itself.
Entering he was already met with the musk smell of perfume and loud music bellowing on a stage, roars of laughter and other voices of patrons shrouded in the mix. Shutting the door behind him, Damon spots the tavern's head mistress. A chesty woman in a frilly gown, her ginger curls done up in a bun. Her make up caked face smiles as she sees the templar approaching, his steel armor clinking as he steps to her. "How can I serve one of the Maker's faithful?" her cockney blurting as she speaks.
"I'm looking for someone." Damon spoke.
The mistress laughs, "And that's what I'm here for darling."
"No. Not that kind of someone." Damon reaches in his back pocket pulling out a pedant on a silver chain. The pedant showed a gold steed adorned a white field, his family's sigil. The mistress instantly knew what the templar meant. "Yes of course Ser Trevelyan. Right this way."
The mistress lead Damon through the dense crowd of patrons on the main floor, leading him upstairs to the second level. "His lord has been kept in the Emerald Suite. Paid for two nights full." the mistress spoke.
"His lord?" said Damon.
The mistress stops in her steps and turns to him, "He is kin to your House is he not?"
"He is madam." Damon spoke ushering the mistress to continue her walk on which she does. "I'm just shocked he'd still refers himself as such." Damon continued.
"He didn't. But once I saw him walk through that door I could tell by that dashing face of his that he was a noble as he carried himself in that way." the mistress said with a crooning smile.
Down a narrow wing of the building passing the well decorated rose oak doors Damon could see they were nearing the room judging by the green colored door at the end of the hall while passing the othered closed rooms hearing the high pitched pants and grunts of feminine voices along with the sound of beds rocking as he walked by.
"Here we are sir." spoke the mistress stopping at the door, "Policy states that I amend you to wait until the patron has finished but judging by your stiff face you'd look to be in a hurry."
"I am. And thank you." Damon does a small bow of his head while the mistress does a quick curtsey and leaves.
Damon softly raps the door, "Drake" he speaks at the door. No answer. Softly turning the knob, Damon quietly enters into a dimly lit suite. It's name the Emerald Suite was derived from its decoration, dark green fur rugs covered it's dark oak floor and its wall was painted of tall trees painted in blurry shades of green depicting the thick forest of the Emerald Graves of Orlais in the Dales. Portraits of naked eleven courtesans dot the walls along with statues, giving the effect of some deep elven theme.
In the center of the room was a round large dark green cushioned bed covered in light green small pillows and a canopy. Laying on the bed were two slim platinum hair nude elven girls fast asleep, sandwich between them was his cousin Drake. Good physique he was, his body showing that he had years in the discipline of a warrior, short chestnut hair was brushed back atop his head and he had a light scruff of a beard. All three on the bed were cozily asleep, Drake lying like a stone, had his mouth agaped into that of a snore.
"Drake!" Damon barked, but Drake did not stir. He continues to lay there. "If you...brought….coffee….put it on the table." He murmurs in yawn his eyes still closed.
Seeing another way to wake him, Damon steps over to the tall window at the end of the room which was covered in a large emerald color drape. Briskly pulling the curtains back and letting the sun's sharp rays pool in, Damon watched as his cousin jolts up along with his two elven companions.
"Aw, for fuck's sake!" Drake spat. The two girls squealed at the sight of Damon, covering their bare chests.
Damon only folded his arms and laugh.
"Alright I'm up, ya hardass!" said Drake motioning his two companions to rise from the bed and leave. They got up but they looked to him with a stern face, as if they are waiting for something of him.
"Right…" Drake reached over to the end table for the violet silk coin pouch he kept. "One sovereign plus ten silvers each for the night." He hands to one of the women. She snatches it with a smug smirk while she and her sister leave. Damon waited for the door to shut behind them for he and his cousin to speak.
"You're early." said Drake pouring himself a small cup of spiced brandy, he had quickly changed into his tight leather trousers not wanting to flash his cousin any longer.
"I rode here as soon as your sister gave word you were in Denerim. Didn't expect you'd be in Ferelden truthfully." said Damon.
"I didn't expect Her Holiness to bring the entire damned Chantry out of Val Royeaux to some frozen pit stain of a village." said Drake in his ever blunt manner taking sip.
"I see you're informed." Damon grumbled.
"I have my ways." said Drake with a sly smirk. "Then again people have been rousing about it. Justina herself having both templars and mages come together to the Holiest of Holys! Ha the bards should already be making ballads." He laughed. Damon was however not in the mood of his cousin jestering attitude. He knew Drake didn't really care much for the Chantry or in the concept of religious faith...well not anymore however.
"What are you doing here in Ferelden?" asked Damon, "Really?"
"For the cheap beer and dog smell." his cousin continued to joke.
"Last I heard you were far west in Orlais, fighting confederates in the name of the Empress." said Damon.
Drake pulled on a cotton shirt"True I took part in the siege of Fort Garotte in Nahasin Marshes. Though I was only there briefly, as I'd planned to of course. The battle was won they even gave me a medal for it, sold it to pay for this room however."
Damon only shook his head, finding some humor to this. He did not understand why his cousin would permit himself to live like a homeless wanderer. Drake was a knight of House Trevelyan although he did not consider himself one. "I can't figure out why you'd choose this life, living like some mercenary selling your sword arm." said Damon.
"It's an illuminating experience cousin." said Drake finishing his drink.
"You were born better than this, you are better than this." spoke Damon.
"If you going to say how my life was so much better when I worked for the Chantry than don't waste your breath!" Drake snapped.
"You didn't worked for the Chantry, you served...greater than most. The third ranking officer of the Templar Order of Ostwick Circle!" Damon snapped back. "People commended you Drake, they looked up to you."
"What of now?" cynically spoke Drake, "I'm sure after my little incident the people now have a different opinion on me."
"What you did…" Damon's tone quickly turned cold as he spoke through clenched teeth, "It was our family's name that kept you from being executed."
"And I'm sure to write my father a letter of gratitude." Drake scoffed, dressing himself.
"Our family's reputation was near gone after that near massacre you created! Generations of hard work almost vanished in an instant! The sums of teethes our house had to give to Chantry donations could've bankrupted us! Just to save your disgraceful neck!"
"If I am such a damn nuisance to you then why the FUCK did you decided to find me!" Drake barked, marching close to Damon his face in his cousin's.
"The same reason you decided to attend!" Damon barked back.
"I only said I'll come is because Mari asked me to!" Drake hissed.
"And such is why I agreed to escort you. Your sister's request." Damon tone changed to a more calm manner. Drake eased up turning away to finish dressing. "And because I care." Damon finished, Drake paused for a moment turning to face Damon to hear him finish.
"You are still family Drake, as coarse as you are, you are still blood. And I know you are not the deceitful heathen many has labeled you."
Dressed in light civilian clothes aligned with leather armor with an ornate steel sword protruding in its holster, Drake followed Damon back down to the main lobby. Turning to the crowded rabble as they make their way to the exit.
"I don't see why you'd tangle yourself in place like this." said Damon, his face churned with slight disgust.
Drake did a hearty chuckle, "The girls here are quite wholesome unlike those ones in the tavern in the marketplace where nobles tend flaunt themselves. Nothing but stale wine and stingy girls."
"The Gnawed Noble?" Damon spoke.
"Yeah, though they should rename it the Pole in the Ass." Drake grumbled, "Besides this establishment has a history. Many of Ferelden's famous had been rumored patrons. King Maric...and Calain, there's even this one story with the Hero of Ferelden and two greased nugs…."
"Drake NO." a bad picture had already formed in Damon's mind.
"Okay but I can tell you about the dwarf in drag…."
"NO!"
On the far side of building, Drake saw the door he was coming to swing open, he stopping in his steps as he sees who enters. Two mountain sized muscled men, both twins of Rivaini origin judging by their tan skin, tribal patterned tattoos and face piercings, one with a stud on his nose and the other with a hoop hanging from his thick bottom lip. Both were armed and mean looking but the concern to Drake was not the two giant beef heads, it was the short scrawny Ferelden leading them in. He looked they atypical merc, beak nose and thick bushy eyebrows.
"Shit." whispered Drake.
"What's wrong?" asked Damon.
Drake took his sleeve and tug him out of the path, not trying to catch the trio's sight.
They gather at a table, Drake keeping his head low yet keeping his eye watching the man and his gang walk along far off on the other side of the room. "That man with the two Rivainis. His names Willis."
"Yeah and!?"
"And he's kinda pissed at me."
"What?!"
"Me and him did a job a while back, it went to shit and he blames me for it." Drake felt it was appropriate to give the short and direct version.
"And he's here?" Damon was still confused.
"Yeah just my luck right? Of all the taverns and inns, this guy stumbles here."
"You were just boasting about this establishment's reputation a minute ago." Damon spoke, in his usual dry tone. "Look he's way over there, let's walk idly to the door and keep your head low."
"Fine." Drake swiftly rises from his seat and both he and his cousin walk somberly to the exit. Damon to the right of him obscuring Drake's profile as they both strides pasts Willis and his duo, they at a table rousing over a jug of ale and two bare chested courtesans one sitting on Willis's lap.
Willis was well distracted good, on Drake's end. As the two near the door the mistress sees them and in her over polite manner and loudness speaks, "Farewell Sir Trevelyan!" she barks so that anyone nearby could hear her, that anyone being Willis.
"What's that?" he bellows, turning to see who was going to the door, he then pushes the girl off him and gets to his feet.
"Aw...fuck...me." sighed Drake, he turns to see Willis already approaching him and so he puts on his famous charming smile.
"Did I hear right?" spoke Willis, "Did I hear Trevelyan? Because they only Trevelyan I know is some highborn shit eating Marcher!"
"Willis." Drake spoke turning to face him. Unbeknownst to Willis, Drake had calmly reached for his dagger holstered to his back, "Long time no see. Good to see you're still good health."
Willis does snort of a laugh, "I know right? Good health is rare to come by when you're dealing with a few thousand qunari after being abandoned!"
"Abandoned? Funny because as far as I can remember that ship of theirs was sinking while in flames and you just didn't have to right sense to jump and swim." said Drake.
"Qunari ships don't sink." Willis grumbled.
"You're right they don't, they explode instead."
"An explosion you caused!" Willis barked.
"Gentlemen really." Damon stepped in, "Whatever past transgressions between you two must be put aside, this is a public area." He spoke in usual templar manner.
"Right." spoke the mistress folding her arms, "You wanna fight take it outside."
"Stay outta this bitch!" snapped Willis "And you too templar!" He said it in a way of disgust.
"Now that's no way to talk to a lady or the Chantry's followers." said Drake still in his sardonic tone.
"Oh is it now?" A sly smirk painted Willis's face. "Bono! Dak!" Willis called out, "Come here!"His two Rivani henchmen then step to, walking over.
"I see you've got new muscle." said Drake, "Nice bout time you got someone else to protect your scrawny ass! Though I can tell they're all muscle and no brains." He joked. That made both Bono and Dak flex with anger, Dak cracking his knuckles.
"What you say doesn't matter." said Willis laughing, "Because your brains is about to be squeezed out of your head!" Just as he spoke Willis reaches for the hatchet holstered to his belt and comes out with it in a swing, yet it was quickly blocked by Drake's draw of his dagger.
Willis tries to exert his weight onto Drake as he tries to strike down, yet Drake slams the front of his head directly onto Willis's nose. Willis went down with a thud. Bono and Dak had already draws their weapons, Bono had a broad maul and Dak at battleaxe.
Damon had already drawn his sword and blocked, Bono's attempt to slam his hammer down on Drake's head and Drake quickly ducked out of a swing from Dak slashing Dak's arm as he came back up.
Damon blocked another blow and this countered by aiming directly for Bono's calve, his sword cutting deep into the man's leg bringing him down to the floor.
People scrambled to get out of harm's way, the mistress running with a holler, "Security!" she barked.
Drake had his dagger in one hand with his other curled into fist ready to bout with Dak. Dak threw the first punch, Drake weaved countering with two sharp jabs. Dak tries with a right hook, Drake bobbed out of it's way, coming up with an uppercut and a quick slash with his knife cutting Dak's torso before ending him with hard jab to the nose sending him to the floor.
"Let's go!" Damon grabbed his cousin by the shoulders pulling him out the door before two armed security finally come marching out of the back room. The commotion was still rather loud, but neither Drake nor Damon stayed behind to see it through, instead they dart their way out onto the Denerim's streets rushing through the crowds trying to shake the feeling of being chased.
They figured someone had hailed for the city guard seeing a couple of guardsmen marching to where the Pearl was, so they hid in a dark alley waiting for the guards to pass them.
"They're gone." said Drake peeping over the corner panting, "But its best we leave Denerim quick before they string up a search." He looks to Damon who had a rather unamused look on his face.
"What?" said Drake, "It's not a real pub and whorehouse until someone's gotten their teeth knocked out!" laughed Drake.
Damon did no such thing, he did however….shook his head.