CHAPTER I: Wicked Grace

9:32 Dragon, 7th Justinian

The hours passed swiftly as the group got into the game. Coins rose in little copper mounds around the scattered mugs and glasses. Ingvar had fallen asleep with his head pillowed on a stained, scruffy old satchel.

His winnings lay untouched though Hugo occasionally glanced at them and sighed. Whenever that happened, Dalish' nails tapped sharply on his wrist guard and the elf favored him with a knowing smile. It helped distract him from stealing but didn't do much to draw his focus back on the game. He'd be left staring at her, eyes roving over her features, temples, jaw and lips; he yearned for the courage to simply reach out and touch.

His fingers twitched on the cards. He imagined letting them trail down her cheeks, pressing them against her lips. She'd open her mouth, slightly, and look at him — no, her eyes would be closed. It was nearly impossible to imagine them clouded with lust. It hurt but he'd only ever seen them narrowed in anger or concentration, half-closed in boredom or disdain, twinkling in mirth; he'd never dared look whenever she brushed her lips against his cheek in thanks, afraid of what he might see.

Slowly, reluctantly, he forced his attention back to the game. It was Laufleid's turn but the dwarf hadn't noticed. She was fingering the cards' ragged edges, seemingly lost in thought. At length, she set them face down and loudly cleared her throat.

"I got a tip, Ian."

The man had been pointing to a couple of drunk guards at the bar who were harassing a young elven servant. After whispering something in Dalish' ear, he turned to ask.

"Reliable?"

Laufleid shrugged, tugging on one of her braids as she spoke. "Reliable enough… for Carta. There are a couple of Lyrium runs where the Carta needs some extra muscle - a lot of extra muscle."

"Carta." Ian spat, "We're not discussing it, Laufleid."

Dalish on the other hand looked interested.

"Come now, Ian. Mere proximity to the city guard can't have infected you with a sudden case of morals!" she scolded playfully and Hugo couldn't stifle a laugh. A deal with the Carta was risky but it also meant good money. Ian was a fool if he thought they'd pass on the deal offhand. He eagerly leaned forward,

"How much are we talking about?"

"Sixty gold each."

He whistled quietly. "What's the catch?"

"It's supposed to be a chain thing. Four runs: Hathevale in the West Hills, Fender's Mill for Jader, the Stone Barrows near Halamshiral and Lydes."

Dalish raised a brow. "Orlais?"

It had been a while since such an opportunity had presented itself. For the past couple of months they'd been stuck in Ferelden, protecting petty merchants and killing the occasional bear that had wandered too close to some backwater village. The pay was low, the tasks tedious and the company left a lot to be desired.

"It certainly.."

Ian cut her off. "Out of the question. We're not smugglers. And we don't deal with the Carta."

The mage's eyes widened dramatically. "Oh, you should write it all down in our charter, Brave Leader, lest we forget again: will perform assassinations. Will not deliver goods."

"We're not assassins either, Dalish."

Hugo snorted and Laufleid covered her chuckles by raising the half-full mug for a drink.

"We are bounty hunters."

"It's not the same thing."

Dalish looked at him blankly. "We deliver the bounty as requested. Dead or Alive."

"They're public bounties, Dalish."

"Except when they're not." Hugo muttered, sharing with Laufleid a grin. The little dwarf added her own two coppers.

"The Potts from Amaranthine, Ian."

Dalish smirked. "Remember the elder daughter? The one who simply wouldn't let herself be caught?"

"Oh, she was that bitch who stabbed James in the shoulder." Hugo exclaimed, recalling the incident.

Laufleid nudged him good-naturedly. "To be fair, he had just shot her brother."

Dalish' lips twitched. It was the shortest smile, vicious and mocking. "Oh, he was a feisty one." she said, rolling her shoulders to relieve some tension.

Hugo inhaled sharply. The stifling air had lent her skin a faint sheen and made her wiry hair frizz at the tips. Her eyes were unfocused but there was a wild gleam in them, cruel and very familiar. He felt a spike of desire shoot straight to his loins and tried to cover it up with a joke.

"Pff! the little menace should have stayed put when we told him to."

Dalish' eyes sparkled with laughter. "Oh, where is your heart, sweet Hugo. Would you not do the same for James?"

"I certainly wouldn't rush an archer with a hatchet and expect him to ignore it."

"Well, Ian certainly solved the issue of having one sibling outlive the other. Tell me Ian, do you remember whose head you crushed first: was it the teen or the pretty little bride-to-be?"

"Enough." the man growled, thumping the table with a mailed fist. "It's not.."

The elf wouldn't hear it.

"It's every second bounty we get from Alton's contacts, Ian. Come, drink some more. You're spoiling our mood with these… odd ideas."

"We dispose of troublemakers, Dalish. We don't support criminals organisations or encourage deadly addictions."

"You're far too old to be developing scruples, Ian." the mage chided. "They are the province of wide-eyed farm-boys who want to make the world a better place, not grizzled old mercenaries who must earn coin."

With a muttered curse, Ian pushed to his feet. He had only just shouldered his pack when he felt a light hand on his arm. There was a serious expression on Dalish' face, mixed with something akin to pity.

"You might have been a good man, Ian, had things been different. But this company needs a smart leader, not a virtuous one."

He shrugged her off and sneered.

"And you'd follow anyone, wouldn't you Dalish? You tease and smile and at the end of the day, for a couple of gold, you'd slit anyone's throat."

Her lips curved in a thin, mirthless smile.

"We all make compromises."

He snorted and turned to leave. "I wonder what you'd do for a leader you actually respected." he whispered without looking back.

There was a pause, as if the question had surprised her and then a laugh, light and airy, completely at odds with her previous demeanor.

"I would probably be a terrible bore. Even you wouldn't wish to see such a thing. Goodnight, Ian."


It was some hours before dawn when Hugo and Dalish left the Naughty Nymph. They walked with a purposeful stride through the darkened streets. In their profession it was a useful skill - to be able to look as though it were unhealthy for others to stop you - and both mercenaries had long practiced the art of looking terribly tough and terribly busy.

In due course, they stopped in front of a two-story house of tan stone, the smallest in a row of elegant-looking homes, right on the edge of the rich hillside district.

Hugo strode confidently up the path and knocked three times on the heavy oaken door. A moment later James opened it widely and, upon seeing his companions, stepped aside with a slight, mocking bow.

"Dalish. Brother dearest. Welcome to my humble abode."

The woman sidled inside and looked around curiously. The hallway was small but clean. Pottery filled the shelves that lined the cream-colored walls and three wooden tables housed an assortment of interesting baubles. James had picked a charming little place.

"Your humble abode, James?" she playfully quipped.

"If the owner was so kind as to let me borrow it." James answered with a smirk and a shrug. After locking the door, he turned in time to see Hugo slip something under his cloak. He tried to stifle a laugh. His brother was so predictable at times.

"Please, do make yourselves at home."

"...Is the owner..." Hugo started, then trailed off, knowing better than to accuse his brother outright, but anxious for reassurance.

"Ah," James thought "Predictable indeed. His brother the thief... the morally upright sibling."

"Rest easy, little brother, the man - and all his meddlesome servants - are sleeping. Alton has helped me tuck the little angels in."

"Ah, have you two been testing another one of Alton's airborne concoctions?" Dalish asked and, setting the vase she had been carefully appraising back on the mantel, sauntered towards the sitting room.

"Meddlesome servants? Were you seen?" Dalish heard the thief ask as she closed the door.

In the parlor, their herbalist was nestled inside a large armchair, reading from a thin book with black covers. When James approached with two glasses of wine, Dalish was struck by what a warm and pleasant a picture they portrayed, especially for being two strangers in someone else's home.

"Dalish, Hugo." Alton greeted them, before nodding his thanks to James and taking a small sip of the amber-colored wine. When it appeared that neither of their temporary hosts were in a mood for conversation, Dalish moved to explore the room. Meanwhile, Hugo made his way to the small dining table where a pot of stew was cooling in a large, earthen bowl.

"Dinner smells wonderful, Alton! Or is it breakfast by now? Regardless… many thanks." he praised and the elf spared him a slight smile.

"Beef, carrots and potatoes… garlic and thyme… An apple pie is in the oven. It'll still be a while till it's done but... the owner's pantry was generous."

"We should make sure to properly reward him, then." Hugo commented, as he spooned the thick broth into his place.

Alton hummed noncommittally and returned to his reading. After the very late supper - or the very early breakfast -, as they lounged in front of the fire, Hugo mentioned their newest assignment.

"...for sixty gold each."

"And?"

"Ian disapproved." added Dalish with a yawn.

James scoffed and allowed his head to fall back. It bumped against Alton's shoulder and the elf shifted to accommodate it. "Predictable. Does this mean he's forbidden us from accepting?"

"He'll bark and whine and we all know we're doing it in the end." was Hugo's prediction "So we might want to pass by Mother Yvette… We're going to Orlais."


Next Chapter: Providing for Those in Need;

I hope to have the next few chapters out sooner. They're outlined up to chapter 5 but with the whole family sick I've had literally no time to write. :(