II
chapter summary: Servis meets the last remaining leader of the Venatori.
Judging by the splendid houses around them, the man leads him to the good part of Lydes. Maybe it means he'll be welcomed properly, feast and everything. Servis doesn't want to set his hopes high, but it sure would be nice if he finally had a decent meal. Once he's back in Tevinter he's going to tell everyone the truth about Orlais, especially about Orlesian food. Now, however, he keeps walking behind his silent companion.
Just when Servis begins to wonder what's the point of asking him to meet in a tavern if they're going to another place, the man stops in front of a gate. He opens it, gesturing at Servis to get inside.
"I didn't know Lady Calpernia owns an estate in Lydes."
"She doesn't," is the brute's gruff response.
"Then why – "
"Stop talking," he barks. Something in his tone of voice makes Servis shut his mouth in fear he may be silenced forever if he keeps talking.
They get inside the house through the back door. There's no feast prepared to welcome him, and the place looks empty as if the owner was getting ready to leave. They are in a kitchen with barely any signs showing that someone is actually living in this house. Seeing a cold stove Servis feels a pang of disappointment. If he stays in Orlais he'll most likely starve to death.
He meets another stranger, this time a girl. Her curly red hair looks like a halo of flames around her head. Servis glances at her, half expecting she's Lady Calpernia. But the girl won't even look at him, her head slightly bowed. Perhaps this is nothing but some elaborate joke that ends in him being stabbed to death by the Inquisition's agents.
"She'll take you to Lady Calpernia," the Tevinter man says. "If you try anything, I'll kill you."
There's so much certainty in his voice Servis prays to every god he knows to help him.
"Come," the girl says.
There's a scar on her cheek, from her eye to the corner of her jaw. It looks like an old wound that never healed properly. She's pretty, though the way she bows her head and her slightly hunched shoulders suggest she is a servant. Or perhaps a slave, although Servis isn't sure what Orlesians think about keeping slaves. He tried to speak about the matter with a Marcher once; it was a disaster.
"May I ask who's the owner of this house?" Servis asks with a polite smile. Trying to have a conversation is always better than just standing in silence.
"Master Lyrio," she says, her voice flat. She's looking at some unspecified point on the floor.
"Will he join us?"
"Master Lyrio is dead."
Somehow her emotionless voice makes this statement even more ominous. Servis wonders if she was the one who killed him. She's not carrying a weapon, so he should be safe for now. But the idea of sleeping in this house makes him worried if he's going to leave the place still breathing.
"I'm sorry to hear that..?" he suggests in a weak voice.
The girl frowns, lips twisting in an ugly snarl, as if he said something greatly offensive.
"No need to be sorry. He deserved it."
When she looks up there's so much anger in her pretty eyes Servis takes a step back.
"He bought me when I was twelve. He did this to me," she points at her face. "And to every other girl that failed to please him. I was his whore."
There's no trace of shame in her voice, no embarrassment. Only hate so raw it leaves Servis paralysed.
"Don't feel sorry for that piece of shit. He finally got what he deserved."
Servis can only stare, frightened but also cursing himself for trying to talk to the girl. He should stop talking to people. It seems like every times he opens his mouth something bad happens. He tried to reason with the Inquisitor, and now he's supposedly one of Lavellan's agents. He agreed to meet Lady Calpernia, and he finds himself in this mess, inside the house of some dead Orlesian noble.
He follows her through the mansion, too terrified to speak. He glances around, noticing empty walls. The place looks more like a tomb than a nobleman's home.
He nearly has a heart attack when the girl stops to open a door.
"I'll wait here," she says. It sounds like a threat.
Servis takes a deep breath, heart pounding in his chest. He peaks inside the room, and then, feeling the girl's angry glare, he takes three faltering steps. He shouldn't be so afraid, he has all his magic flowing in his veins. He learned from the best mages in the Imperium. Too bad he feels more like a terrified rabbit, all his Tevinter pride forgotten.
There's a woman sitting by a table. She looks up at him, her hazel eyes slightly narrowed. She wears a grey robe with a red brooch pinned to the front, and a wide leather belt on her waist. She looks more like a common girl than the last surviving leader of the Venatori. Servis takes another step forward, uncertain if this person is finally the one he's supposed to meet.
Perhaps he's not the best mage, but Servis is quite good at feeling magic. It's convenient to know more or less what's the skill of his opponent. Magical power in this room is so great it almost makes it difficult to breath. For some reason it makes him think about crackling flames.
Nobody knows about Lady Calpernia. Somehow this makes her more frightening.
"I'm glad you decided to join me," she speaks in a polite voice.
She invites him to sit by the table. Servis hastily obliges, fearing his smallest gesture may displease her. And that would surely result in his death.
There are so many questions in his mind it's difficult to concentrate on the right thing to say. So naturally Servis chooses one of the questions he should probably never ask. But the panic rising in his throat pushes the words through his mouth before he can even think.
"I heard master Lyrio met his end. Forgive me, Lady Calpernia, but I have to ask," he takes a deep breath, his palms are sweating. "Did you kill him?"
She gives him a stunned look.
"He was a slaver," Calpernia says as if it explained it all.
"Are you going to kill me as well?"
She regards him for a moment, genuine surprise painted on her freckled face. Then her gaze softens, something like amusement glistening in her eyes.
"Are you a slaver, Servis? Do you beat slaves to death? Do you maim women if you get bored with their bodies?"
"No!" he yelps in panic. His magic is distant and cold, while the power radiating from the woman sitting next to him is almost suffocating. "I'm a… I'm a smuggler."
Crassius Servis is many things. He's a mage, maybe not the brightest one, but a mage nonetheless. He comes from an old Tevinter family with traditions. He's a historian as well, and an archaeologist, though many of his expeditions, including the latest one in the Western Approach, brought him nothing but failure.
So when Servis describes himself as a smuggler, because it seems like something Lady Calpernia would be interested in, he may almost hear his father's disapproving words. But his father's opinion matters little now, so far away from home, when Servis has to face a very real threat.
Seeing Calpernia smile Servis nearly faints from all this tension. "I'm glad to hear that, because I'm in need of your, ah, talents."
"Talents?" he repeats. He could swear he's the least talented person in all Thedas. Because what does he do, really? He digs up stuff that may or may not be valuable, finds old crumbling ruins full of bloodthirsty creatures (including darkspawn; he truly hates the Western Approach), and sometimes finds a shiny trinket for himself.
So what does she need from him…?
As if reading in his thoughts, Calpernia replies, "You have contacts. Ways to obtain information and goods. I heard you've been doing quite well in the Western Approach before the Inquisition tracked you down?"
"Not really…" he cringes. No matter how many times he changes his clothes, he always finds sand somewhere. Not to mention that trying to organize a complex expedition when there was a high dragon flying above his head wasn't the best for his business plans.
"I want to offer an agreement, Servis," Calpernia's strong voice brings him back to the present moment. "As you know, the Venatori are mostly gone. The Inquisition nearly wiped us out. I need your help for there's a long journey ahead of me."
"Where do you need to go, Lady Calpernia?" he asks in a voice slightly louder than a whisper. Something tells him he's not going to like the answer.
"To the Temple of Dumat."
"I'm afraid I know nothing about that place," he says, feeling sweat dripping down his back.
In a moment of sheer panic he glances at the window, calculating how far he can get before Calpernia's spells hit him. His tormented mind curses him for never paying much attention to physical exercise. Not that he could ever outrun a well–aimed ball of fire.
"Don't fret. I already have enough information about that place. I need supplies, mounts for my men. And, most importantly, someone who knows how the Inquisition operates."
"I know nothing about the Inquisition!" Servis hastily proclaims. The back of his robe feels like a wet sheet.
"You are an agent of the Inquisition, are you not?"
Fenhedis. Of course she knows.
"Well, technically…" he makes a vague hand gesture.
"Instead of running away to the Imperium, stay in the south. Work for the Inquisition. Pretend you want to cooperate."
Servis opens his mouth, countless questions forming in his thoughts. What she proposes is the exact opposite of what he has in mind. He'd rather return to Vyrantium and live in shame that he chose to run when he had a chance. Perhaps he truly is her one and only option; maybe she can't ask anyone else for help.
There's something in Calpernia's voice, so calm and confident, that makes Servis believe in what she's saying.
"I need to ask you about something, Servis," Calpernia continues.
She fold her hands on the table. There's a scar on her hand, and another one on her wrist. From their shapes he can guess that perhaps something burned her arms, but it seems strange she still has the marks. All Tevinter nobles Servis knows want to be seen as perfect. With so much power and wealth they can hide or remove every imperfection, every smallest flaw. Calpernia, however…
"How did the Inquisition win? What happened to the Elder One?"
Servis hesitates. It's difficult to tell what she wants to know. His limited knowledge about the matter doesn't make it easier.
"After we lost the Western Approach, when magister Erimond failed with the Grey Wardens, the Venatori forces were pretty much gone," he begins, carefully choosing his words, recalling rumours he heard after getting captured.
His days in Skyhold were tedious, after all there wasn't much for him to do once they questioned him and locked him in a cell. At times he could hear guards talking. He even tried to start a friendly conversation (because what did he do? He just wanted to make some coin, it wasn't like he was summoning a demon army!). They threatened to cut off his tongue if he kept asking, so he never spoke to them again. Southerners are impossibly rude sometimes.
What he did hear one day was a loud celebration, singing, dancing and praise for the brave Inquisitor who defeated all evil.
"The Inquisition fought the Red Templars in some elven ruins. And that was pretty much the end. All the Inquisitor needed to do was to defeat Corypheus in the final battle."
"How well do you know the Red Templars?" Calpernia asks. She seems rather disinterested, but the slight curve of her lips, a smile she can't quite hide, tells Servis she knows more than she says.
"I had to work with those… creatures, albeit briefly," he explains with a slight frown. Why would Corypheus need such monsters is still a mystery to him. "Some of them were more human, but sooner or later they all changed because of that foul substance they had to take."
"And what happened to the man who commanded the Red Templars?"
"General Samson? He's dead. I think." He scratches his large nose, wondering about the answer. "I mean, he was already half dead when the Inquisitor exiled him. Now, that was a surprise because everyone thought she's going to execute him publicly. To strengthen the morale, or something."
"But she didn't?"
Servis shakes his head. "No, Lavellan exiled him. I guess she didn't want to look at his transformation. I saw what red lyrium does to a person. To be honest, I never want to deal with the Red Templars again."
Calpernia studies him for a longer while. When he starts to worry if his answer isn't enough and he failed the test, she gets up.
"Come. I need you to understand who you're dealing with."
Servis follows her, utterly confused, through the spacious halls of the Orlesian mansion. He walks right behind her, panic rising in his throat. When Calpernia stops in front of one of many doors, Servis half expects there's a dragon waiting on the other side. Or something equally terrifying, like one of those red lyrium behemoths spewing that vile substance everywhere they go.
As it turns out, he's not entirely wrong.
Seeing what Lady Calpernia prepared for him, a small gasp escapes from his lips. His eyes return to her, wide in shock. She has a little smile on her lips. She wanted to check what he knows; that's why she questioned him, to check whether he tells her the truth or lies.
He turns his head to see if the room hasn't changed. But no, his eyes don't fool him. The threat of being stabbed to death by an assassin sent by the Inquisition suddenly seems completely insignificant.
"I must say…" he begins in a weak voice. He clears his throat and starts again. "If you're able to outsmart the Inquisitor, and do something like this, then…"
He glances at Calpernia. She looks quite pleased. Servis perfectly understands why.
"You have my undivided attention, Lady Calpernia. And all help I can provide."
