happy holidays!
Finding Meeran, it turns out, is almost embarrassingly easy – a few quick words with one of the Templars loitering around the Gallows has them going in the right direction. Not that it even helps that much anyway, because Meeran himself waves them over when they get near enough. He isn't all that impressive up close; despite how stocky he is, he's also pretty short. Garrett will give him that he looks like he's lived through some of the worst that the world has to offer and firmly told it to fuck off.
He gives them all a very assessing look on their approach. "You two are the Hawke boys, I take it?"
"That'd be us." Garrett says as they slow to a stop. Carver and Aveline flank either shoulder.
"Your uncle talked up a storm about the two of ya. He'd better not be talkin' out of his arse. As per usual."
Carver fidgets beside him, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It takes every ounce of patience Garrett has to resist elbowing him in the stomach. "Funny that, he didn't really tell us much about you at all."
Meeran scoffs. "Forgot yer not a Marcher." He starts pacing, folding his hands at the small of his back. "The Red Iron're well known around Kirkwall – we pick who we work for. That way we keep our noses clean. Anyone screws with us, though, and we mess 'em up. That make sense?"
"Makes sense." Aveline agrees.
Meeran's eyes leap to her face, as if suddenly noticing her presence. "Who's this? Gamlen only mentioned the two of you." He shakes his head. "I don't mind an extra pair of hands, so long as you're willing to put in the work."
"Ah," Garrett jumps in with a nervous laugh. He rubs his palms against his thighs. "This is Aveline. She's a friend."
Meeran gives her a once over, sucks on his teeth, and then nods. "You look like you can handle yourself." He says approvingly.
"Gamlen said getting us into the city is going to take a lot of money." Carver says, scratching at the back of his head. "Is that true, or is he just 'talking out of his arse'?"
"Oh it's true." Meeran actually laughs. "The Red Iron gets paid well enough to cover it. Plus, as I said, Gamlen wouldn't shut up about how useful you are. It's an investment we're willing to make."
Garrett rolls his shoulders. "How do you even know Gamlen? He doesn't seem the sort to hang out with mercenaries."
"He isn't. He cheated one of my men at a wallop match – you work out for us and we'll call it even."
"Still seems a bit risky to me." Garrett says. Aveline makes a noise of agreement. "Not that I'm not grateful – I am – but all you've got to go on is word of mouth."
Meeran shrugs, and then sneers. "Eh, if you don't work out, we'll just stick you on the shittiest jobs we've got. Some o' the boys are hoping for it, actually. Either way, you'll be safe for a year, and we get our coin back. Win-win, if you ask me."
Garrett has known from the beginning how this is going to end, so he steps forward with a hand outstretched. "Time to prove our worth then, I suppose."
"Good." Meeran says, clasping hands and thumping him on the shoulder. "Already got something of a job for ya. There's a fella here in the Gallows, goes by the name of Friedrich. One o' those noble bastards – right uppity. Gave us some bad info that almost got my men killed."
"You want us to go and talk to him." Carver guesses. He doesn't look overly impressed, but then he rarely does. Garrett ignores him.
"Want you to do a damn sight more than that, lad. From what we know, he's hiding out down here in the hopes of catching the first ship out. I need someone to get to him before he does. But if he sees any of my men coming, he'll go straight back into hiding again, and it was hard enough finding him this time 'round."
Garrett nods slowly. "So you need us to go because he won't recognise us?"
"Yer sharp." Meeran says with an approving nod. "When you find him, I need you to kill 'im. We'll make sure no one asks too many questions."
Garrett blows out a heavy breath through his nose. Aveline tenses beside him, and he sees Carver's scowl deepen. "You know where he is?"
The Gallows is an overwhelmingly large place, they quickly learn. They cycle through several of Meeran's informants, and although the information they get isn't necessarily the best, it does at least help them get a feel for the place. After a few hours he doesn't feel quite so out of place anymore anyway, even when they shuffle past his mother and uncle for the third time.
"What do you reckon this 'wrong info' even is?" Carver complains, rubbing a weary hand over the back of his neck. "He's got us running around like idiots."
Garrett is only half paying attention, but he knows he murmurs something that sounds like an agreement. He's distracted, too busy eyeing up a market stall. His mouth waters at the sight of what looks like fresh fruits glowing in the afternoon sun. Their last meal – if the slop they'd had can even be considered food – had been hours ago and his stomach rumbles. There's a tug in his stomach that is almost impossible to ignore, and his feet start walking in that direction before he even has a chance to think about it. Before he knows it, he's mere inches away from a crate of apples, and he barely resists reaching out to take one. It's close, though.
"Have you checked the courtyard?" A voice Garrett does not recognise says, close enough to distract him. His accent is odd, which might be why it draws his attention in the first place. He's definitely not from Kirkwall or Ferelden, at the very least.
"He's still out there. Hasn't made a move yet, though." Another man says. He's leaning against the wall, the lit torch beside him casting his face into shadow and making it difficult to read his expression properly. He sounds annoyed, but it's hard to tell. Everyone sounds annoyed in Kirkwall.
The first one begins to pace, wringing his hands. He's wearing fancy clothes – the kind that are personally tailored. It's enough to make Garrett raise an eyebrow at Carver and get a nod in return. "I don't like this. What are we going to do when the ship arrives?"
Aveline slinks up behind Garrett, faking an interest in the market stall. Luckily for them, there isn't a merchant around to hound them for a sale. She steps in closer. "I think that might just be our man."
"It's beginning to look that way." Garrett agrees as he picks up an apple to inspect it. It's yellowing slightly around the top, and the middle is a little soft. He puts it back.
"Calm down." The one leant against the wall says, hiding a yawn behind one of his hands. He catches sight of them and straightens up, immediately reaching for his sword.
The rest of the men gathered around them catch on very quickly, instantly reaching for their own weapons. Friedrich spins around, the ends of his ponytail hitting him in the chin when he comes to a stop. He pulls strands of dirty blonde hair from his mouth and scowls. "Who are you?" He demands, still tugging at his hair. "What are you doing here?"
Garrett moves away from the stall and gives one last regretful look to the apples. He puffs his chest out and saunters over to where they've hidden themselves in the shadows, trying for a cocky grin. One of them points a shaky sword in his face, and he tuts. "I would've thought that fairly obvious." He says cheerfully, jerking his chin towards the stall. He hears Carver sigh behind him, and his grin brightens.
"Meeran sent 'em." One of them says with a frown.
"I'm not an idiot!" Friedrich whines, even going so far as to stamp his foot. "I could've figured that out on my own."
Carver scoffs. It's not loud, by any means but it is enough to capture Friedrich's attention.
"Look here, you… I don't know what that pissant is paying you, but whatever it is, I'll double it! Just let me go."
"I'll consider it," Garrett says, relaxing his posture. "If you tell me why he wants you dead so much."
Friedrich has the gall to laugh. "Those idiots take everything far too seriously. All I did was tell Lord Asheral they were coming…" He trails off, hands twisting, and only continues when Garrett makes a sympathetic noise. As if he has any idea who this 'Lord Asheral' is. "It was just business! I was going to give the Red Iron a share of the profit." He gestures at them. "Or it could go to you, if you'd just let me go. You can have it all."
"Hang on." The same one who's been doing most of the talking says, turning to Friedrich and pointing his sword in his face. "You told us the money would come to us."
The blood drains from Friedrich's face and he waves his hands. "And once we've reached safety, it will. I promise you. But to actually get there we need-" He makes a choking sound. Garrett's eyes flick downwards to see that there's a sword protruding from Friedrich's stomach.
"You're a lying piece of shit, Friedrich." The 'guard' hisses, shoving the sword in deeper and twisting his wrist upwards. Blood trickles from the corner of Friedrich's mouth and he gurgles. "Should'a known you'd try and fuck us over." He pulls the sword out, placing his foot against Friedrich's shoulder and using it as an anchor. He watches Friedrich's body crumple to the ground with disinterest, and then wipes the blood off on his trousers. "You can tell Meeran the job's done." He says, looking up at Garrett. "The rest of us will be outta here by nightfall."
"What about your money?" Carver asks carefully.
He gets an almost… amused look in response. "We know where he kept it – idiot couldn't keep his damn mouth shut."
They watch the four men disappear off through the gate leading down to the docks a few moments later. Garrett hears one of them laugh and he shakes his head, before turning to face Carver and Aveline. "What a welcome, eh?"
"This place is bloody awful." Carver retorts, completely deadpan.
"I'm sure it must have… some redeeming qualities." Garrett pauses for a moment and then sticks a finger in Carver's face. "Just you wait until we find a tavern, that'll be sure to life your spirits!"
"It'll take a lot of alcohol."
"Maybe Meeran will treat us. You know, as a job well done."
Carver's answer to that is a derisive snort, and honestly, Garrett can't argue. He can't quite stop the smile either, and he watches Carver struggle to do the same.
"We should report back to Meeran." Aveline says, drawing their attention back to the task at hand. A talent of hers, he's found.
"Right you are." Garrett claps his hands twice. "Let's hope we don't get lost on the way back."
As it turns out, there isn't a chance for them to get lost because Meeran is waiting for them just around the corner. He's tucked himself as close to the wall as he can manage, but it seems rather pointless given the way his grey hair reflects in the dim light. That, and the fact he's flanked by two armed men. Garrett is honestly beginning to question if everyone in this city just happen to carry a weapon on them at all times. They startle at the trio's approach, only standing down when Meeran waves them off.
"Dead and buried." Garrett announces and then shrugs. "Well. Dead, anyway."
"Excellent. Welcome to the Red Iron, the three of you. You can tell yer uncle I'm finalising the arrangements." He brushes past them, back out into the sunlight. "C'mon boys, we've got work of our own to be gettin' on with."
"How will we know when you've got work for us?" Carver calls out to their quickly retreating backs.
Meeran smirks at them over his shoulder. "Don't worry! We know where Gamlen lives – we'll find you when we need you."
Garrett watches them fade into the distance. He raises his eyebrows and sucks in a deep breath through his mouth. "Well. That was… surprisingly easy."
"I don't trust them." Carver says, careful to keep his voice quiet even now. He falls silent for a few moments, and then groans. "Ugh, we're going to end up talking like them."
"I don't think we're meant to trust them." Aveline says, shielding her eyes against the sun. "I suppose we'd best go and find Gamlen."
Garrett aims a grin at her. "You sure you don't want to wander around aimlessly for the next few hours? I have it on good authority that it's an excellent way to stretch your legs."
In the months that he's known her, Garrett has come to learn a few important things about Aveline Vallen. One – she is terrifyingly adept in a fight. Two – she'd somehow managed to actually fall asleep on the ship, which is a feat in itself. Three – and this one he feels is the most important, for the sole fact he's determined to change it – she doesn't smile. Oh, she pretends. But it's never very big, only ever playing at the corners of her mouth.
It's the same smile that she's giving him now. "I'm more worried about your mother and uncle killing each other if we don't return soon."
"That's… an excellent point." The grin fades and his shoulders slump. "This is going to be interesting."
"Hopefully it won't be for too long." She says, face clearly suggesting she doesn't really believe it.
"Just a year." Garrett raises one unenthusiastic fist in the air. "What's a year, really?"
Carver sniggers but doesn't bother answering. He leads them back across the courtyard towards wherever they'd left Gamlen and Leandra. Garrett's so tired that things have started to blur together, so he follows in silence for what feels like an hour, but is probably closer to ten minutes. He's barely even paying attention, only snapping back into action when Carver nudges him in the ribs. He somehow manages to stand up straight and stride back over to them.
"Any luck?" Gamlen asks, turning his back on Leandra from where she'd been saying something to him.
Garrett cocks his head to the side and smirks. "You doubted? Meeran says he'll take care of it."
Gamlen smiles, visibly relieved. "That's excellent news. Listen, I've got a few bits of business to take care of myself. Wait here, would you? I shouldn't be too long."
"I'm getting really tired of people doing that." Garrett says mildly, once Gamlen's vanished from sight. "Nobody ever wants to just have a chat, do they?"
"But does that mean it's over?" Leandra interrupts, striding over to clutch at Carver's arm. He tries to shake her off, but all it does is make her hold on tighter.
"For now." He says. His voice is deceptively calm, but Garrett can see the tightness around his eyes.
Garrett slaps his brother on the shoulder, dislodging Leandra's hold enough for Carver to pull free. "Let's not do that again any time soon, eh?" He ignores the grateful look Carver gives him. "Once was enough."
"If only Bethany were here." Leandra sniffles. She dabs at her nose with her sleeve, but her eyes are boring into the side of Garrett's head.
He looks away, up at the Circle in front of them. He closes his eyes and breathes a few times.
"And Wesley. He should be here." Aveline whispers, shoulders drooping.
"I'm sorry." Garrett murmurs. He's careful to make sure Leandra doesn't see him do it.
Aveline shakes her head, eyes sad. "It wasn't your fault. Any of it."
Carver steps into his side and bumps their shoulders together. "Bethany wouldn't want you to blame yourself, you know. She, and she alone, made her choices. There's no way you could have stopped it."
Garrett doesn't bother trying to argue with them, but he can see the way Leandra looks at him and knows that that isn't true. He blinks rapidly for a moment, and then coughs.
"I'm going to keep saying it until you believe me." Carver says, still leaning against his shoulder.
"You're going to be waiting a long time." Garrett fakes a smile, taking a few steps forward and then spinning on his heel. "Well, after that charming introduction, what do you say to finding out what else this city has to offer?"