It's Bioware's universe, just exploring the planets.

Okay, I'm finally getting around to revising some of the chapters of this story so they read a little easier. Chapter 2 has improved a lot because of it. :) Enjoy!


Antiva

Moira crossed the quay, dodging men, carts, and containers as she made her toward the wide man-made waiting area and exit point to the avenue that would lead her into the city. She was impressed by the level of engineering it had taken to construct the stone piers that jutted out into the water and connected to each other by a long, wide strip. Once or twice Moira could see where the stonework had needed replaced because those stones were less worn than the rest but meticulously fitted into the exiting structure.

She started up the main causeway while carts passed her in both directions carrying goods and materials to and from the ships. Down the beach a ways she could see men sorting fish while their boats bobbed on the waves that lapped against the khaki sand. Walking uphill she passed a worn but tidy squat stucco building painted red. Hanging above the door was a ship. Harbor Master? She thought. Its gated courtyard opened up to the street and it was full of people. She paused out of curiosity and looked in. She could tell some of the men were sailors, with their rough clothing and bare feet. Others were clearly merchants, richly dressed and standing impatiently with their bodyguards. A few were probably ship's captains, clutching papers in leather folders, looking annoyed and in a hurry.

The harbor area of any city was a busy place but Moira was taken with the amount of people everywhere, all dressed in more different styles than she was accustomed to seeing in Amaranthine. She walked uphill between buildings weather beaten and bleached, sturdy like they'd seen many storms blow off the ocean, tiles dingy with dirt and pollution from the nearby factories. Most were probably warehouses, their doors heavy and their plaster peeling. She could see some were open while men worked in front of them or appeared and disappeared from their dim interiors. Moira stayed on the main as Galin had indicated, occasionally looking down the cobbled streets that bisected it.

Here, on the outskirts, the city smelled of tanneries, coal fire, strange spices, fish, and too many people. She smiled inwardly remembering a bit of conversation from long ago.

"Ah yes...that smell. Just like rotting flesh. Now if I had a prostitute, some fish chowder, and a corrupt politician, I'd really feel at home!"

When she left the warehouse district she started passing rundown apartments. Two story structures that stretched out in both directions from the avenue she was on. The sound of children's voices and the barking of dogs drifted from between the buildings and she turned to look at the people bustling around. The gutters of the streets were open, but she was used to that, children jumped lithely across them somehow managing to miss the filth as they lost themselves in play. Moira spotted women hanging out wash or standing around chatting, pausing from their conversation only long enough to catch sight of a wayward child. In many ways it reminded Moira of the alienage back home. She looked over the buildings again unconsciously comparing them to the ones she'd grown up in. Many weren't plastered or were plastered poorly, their baked brick and stone construction showing through, but all of the ones she could see had tidy stoops and many had flowers or coarse woven rugs on the stone stairs.

She passed several rows before the apartments opened up to a small community marketplace with its modest shops lining the perimeter and impromptu carts turned stores parked near the water fountain in its center. The cobblestones here were uneven and some were missing or broken but the buildings facing the interior were all brightly painted and looked fresh.

Fishwives were hawking their products, arguing loudly in a language Moira didn't comprehend. Young girls carried water vessels resting on coiled rags on their heads, some with smaller siblings in tow. Women with baskets of bread, vegetables, and meat passed her, heading in the direction of the apartments. The place was alive and the low din of everyday noise was everywhere. Moira made her way through the press, searching for the exit that would take her into the heart of the city. She was navigating through the press of people where the street narrowed when a thin man casually bumped into her.

Clumsy.

To the great surprise of the thief she spun around and grabbed his wrist. He glared at her angrily and went to jerk away from her grasp when his eyes went wide. He had seen the broach and felt the dagger pressing into his under arm. A few of the other patrons noticed the two figures standing dead still and paused to watch.

"Unwise my friend," Moira said coldly.

He squirmed under her icy stare. "My apologies, Lady, I didn't know." His reply was stilted, unfamiliar with the Common tongue. He produced the purse he had tried to steal from her and offered it back. She pressed her dagger a little more sharply into the man watching his moment of panic as he wondered if she was going to kill him anyway.

"I'd be more careful if I were you." Moira withdrew the dagger, secreting it away. She calmly took the purse and buried it in a pocket of her cloak.

"Get lost." She said dismissively.

"Yes, Lady." The man hurried away from her, looking back to see if she followed.

Nothing like a little pick pocketing in the morning to get the feel of a city is there? She knew she'd asked for it, but she was prepared for it. She grinned inwardly scanning the sea of faces. Let's see how long it takes before they appear.

Moira started on her way again, ignoring the curious stares and whispers. It wasn't long before she received her answer as two men appeared at the mouth of an alley. They watched her coolly as she passed and Moira took note of them. They were dressed in hardened leather cuirasses and leather skirts, scarlet tunics showing beneath. It was their sword hilts she was interested in however. The Crows of Antiva preferred a specific style of long dagger, standard issue according to what Zevran had told her.

"Ah, there you are." She whispered. But do you report back to the Guild or are you part of someone's cell?

Moira walked on, pausing in front of a tavern and pretending to read its sign. Good she thought when she happened to glance behind her and spotted one of the men from the alley following a distance away. Moira reminded herself not to take a look around for the other one. She glanced again at the sign, "The rocking chair" and left.

Moira could tell she was leaving the poorer district when she noticed the houses were all in good repair and their gutters and sewers were closed. She paused in amazement at that. As she inspected the street closer she noticed drains and realized the sewers were all underground! The majority of homes were storied here as well but there were quite a few singles in the mix, rooftops opening up to gardens whose flowered plants hung in tendrils over the house face. The doors were more ornate and the windows were made of clear glass. Everywhere was color, only dimly muted by their plastered makeup and set off by the green of plants. Amazing.

Finally she made her way through the gates of a bigger, more affluent market. She walked to the fountain in its center and drank from cupped hands. Women filled ceramic urns from the clear waters exiting from the wide mouthed vases that decorated the foot of the statue in the center. Their skirts tied up, baring their calves as they waded the shallow waters of the pool surrounding it.

Moira scrutinized the centerpiece, two figures, one male the other female carved from marble. The woman was struggling against the man who held her by her arm and waist, her flowing robes made to look as though a breeze had caught them and were billowing them in one direction. Her face was turned away, tendrils of hair across her carved expression of reluctance and panic. The figures hands were pressed against the man's bare chest, the muscles of her bare arms showing the strain in trying to push the powerful warrior away. The warrior was gripping her, trying to subdue her, his expression hard and determined. Two figures locked in eternal struggle. She decided that she liked it.

Sitting on the wide concrete lip of the fountain she watched the comings and goings for a few minutes. Bright tents of the open-air market, stalls selling all kinds of fruits and vegetables, even a few that were selling nuts. She thought she saw some vendors selling prepared foodstuffs, the smell of roasting food in the air, and her stomach gave a little growl. There were more stalls selling household goods, exotic items from other lands, jewelry, weapons, everything and anything a person could want. The whole square was full of people and she could see more standing at the counters of beer shops or taking lunch in the square's restaurants when she looked through the people passing in front of her. It was difficult to see from where she was sitting but she wondered what was in the shops that were, undoubtedly, surrounding the place.

Moira watched enjoying the experience of being nothing more than a simple bystander, pretending as she was to not notice the men trailing her as they melted in and out of the crowd. If she hadn't spent so much time with Zevran and Lelianna she wouldn't have noticed them at all. Of course, it helps that I'm looking for them.

Moira decided to browse the market for a while before heading to her final destination. The day was beginning to warm now that the sun had crawled higher in the sky and Moira took a moment to enjoy the warmth on her face before standing. She walked slowly down the rows of vendors, seeing wares from across Thedas.

After walking past several stalls carrying jewelry she settled on one after spying a set of silver bracelets. She picked up the pair of braided bracelets and examined them, running a thumb over their ridges.

"You have a fine eye, Lady." The merchant began in Common, accent noticeable but not overwhelming. "Those were made by the master smiths of Par Vallon themselves!" He continued his sales pitch. "I was told they were very old when I acquired them, worn by a Qunari princess." He smiled broadly at her.

She turned them over in her hand. They were finely made it was true, near perfect in fact, simple, elegant, strong and functional. Much like their people. She smiled at his words.

"How much?" She asked. These would make a fine gift for her cousin, Shianni, liaison to the Landsmeet for Denerim's alienage. When Moira thought about it, she hadn't seen Shianni in a long time. She'd been remiss in answering her letters too.

So many things left to be done, darkspawn in the south and Frostbacks. The ever present need for reconstruction at Vigil's Keep, strange rumors from the north. Still, I should be better about seeing my family. Moira's thoughts turned over quickly while she waited for the price.

"1 sovereign, 20 silver." The merchant replied smiling.

Moira met his eyes seeing the greedy gleam in them. She looked his wares over closely, baubles from all over from the look of them. She noticed some were better made and more expensive looking than others. She wondered how many he'd come by honestly.

In a measured voice she said, "I knew a Qunari once. He was a Sten of the Beresaad." She watched for his reaction and was unsurprised when his face paled.

"We spent a long time traveling together. He was a tireless warrior, very devout in his beliefs. Didn't speak much but when he did it was often about his homeland." She returned her attention to the bracelets in hand.

The merchant looked nervous. He took a step back and glanced over her appearance.

Moira smiled at the merchant reassuringly. "60 silver." She countered. She doubted he'd paid that much for them.

"Done, Lady." The merchant smiled nervously as they made the exchange. Further down the row, from the corner of her eye, she saw one of the Crows following her examining a dagger. Moira considered ignoring him before changing her mind.

"The ones you're wearing are better made." She said as she made to move beside him. Moira felt a certain sense of satisfaction at the startled expression that flittered quickly across his face.

"Permisso?" The Crow answered.

She gestured to the dagger in his hand and smiled impassively. The Crow's eyes darted around quickly before coming back to her, touching briefly on the broach she wore. "Will you take a message for me to Master Arainai?" She watched his expression of cool professionalism change subtly at the mention of Zevran's name.

The Crow seemed to think about it a moment before answering. "Si." He once against darted his eyes behind and around her. Moira wondered if his companion was somewhere behind her but had to trust they would do nothing foolish.

"Tell him to meet me for dinner." She clapped him on the shoulder once before passing him back the way she'd come.

She exited the rows of tents and walked toward the Chantry, huge and imposing, dominating the far corner of the square. The usual Chanters board was out front with the usual types looking over the jobs listed on it. Moira passed them and headed toward the gate that would lead her to her destination. She glanced up at the birds carved into the gate and was confident that the Crows would deliver her message.