Chapter 3

Starkhaven shone brightly in the hot summer sun. The city was a vision of different shades of white. The paths were constructed of granite and it seemed as if there was a marble fountain in every courtyard. Fritz was right, Ronan had to admit; the city was rich. Every estate they passed looked as if it were the home of a king. But there were no kings here, just a ruling prince, a dimwit who did not truly belong on the throne. At least, that was what he heard from the whispers on the sparkling clean streets.

Ronan found himself wandering the city with Ty and Anwen. Vance had told them to spread out, to try to find something worth doing. Ronan fumed inwardly. He would rather have gone with anyone but these two, an untested youth and a voluntary mute. The richly attired people on the streets, however, gazed curiously only at Ronan. He did his best to ignore them. They must not see too many Dalish around here. What a sight they must make. However were they supposed to find a good job?

Ronan glanced behind him. Anwen hovered behind him closely, her gaze on the ground. She seemed nervous, her shoulders hunched forward. She had pulled her hair back into one long braid that morning, Ronan noted, for the first time since he had met her. Ty followed Anwen closely, a lovesick expression covering his face. Ronan shook his head in disgust. What a fool.

Ronan lead on, weaving through the crowds, wondering what the hell he was supposed to be looking for. The people in the crowd gave him amused looks but did not stop. He paused in front of a gate. Anwen stumbled into his back. Ignoring her, he went up to the gate. Looking through it, he saw a large burnt out building.

"The one blemish on this city so far, besides the haughty shems." Ronan said to himself. There were notices stuck onto the gate. Ronan grabbed at one and looked at it. He couldn't read.

"The Starkhaven Circle." Ty said. Ronan handed him the paper. Ty shrugged. "I never learned to read either. Darktown isn't the place for raising scholars."

Ronan looked back at the burnt out building. "What happened here?"

"The same year of the Blight in Ferelden, mage renegades burnt down the place." Ty said. Ronan noticed Anwen fidgeting.

"What happened to the mages?" Ronan asked, keeping a suspicious eye on Anwen.

"Some escaped. Some were rounded up and sent to the Gallows in Kirkwall." Ty answered. Ronan took the notice back from him. He shook it in Anwen's face.

"I know you can read. I've seen you."

Anwen, still looking at the ground, took the paper reluctantly from Ronan. She gazed at it for a moment.

"Well, by the gods woman, what does it say?" Ronan asked impatiently.

Anwen crumpled up the paper and tossed it to the ground. "Nothing."

Ronan furrowed his brows in frustration. He grabbed Anwen by the arm. "Nothing you want us to know, right?"

"Hey," Ty said shoving Ronan away from Anwen. "Leave her be."

Ronan turned around and walked away. He really wanted to punch the shem in the face, or give him a rough shove back, but Ty was Vance's little brother. Whether he liked it or not, Ronan couldn't afford to be on his own right now. There were too many bandits, cutthroats, thieves, and general rottenness between here and home. Instead, he kicked furiously at the ground.

"Don't touch me again, halla turd."

…

Even the tavern was made of marble. The walls and floors were polished to a sparkle. Vance, Fritz, and Chug sat hunched at a marble table. They looked terribly out of place, with their rough leather armour, crude weapons, and tanned skin. Chug's double horned helmet contrasted frighteningly against the glittering architecture around them. As Ronan and the others joined the trio already at the table, a serving girl stared haughtily at them. Ronan grinned at her and she scrambled away quickly.

"Did you find anything?" Vance asked as they took a seat.

Ronan shook his head. "The shems in this town should be given a trophy for being the most stuck-up in Thedas."

"Normally, I would take offence at your slur," Vance said, "But you're right. The people of Starkhaven are a condescending lot. When they need people such as us, though, they pay good coin."

"So you found nothing as well?" Ty asked his brother.

"On the contrary, we've heard about bounties for renegade mages." Vance said, leaning over the table. Ronan stole a glance at Anwen, who sat as still as a statue. Her eyes, however, darted back and forth nervously. She was an apostate. He knew it all along, from the moment her sorry wolf self stole his blade.

"It's been years now since the Starkhaven Circle burnt down." Ty said.

"What is your point?" Vance asked.

"Any mages they haven't caught, well, they must be something."

"Aw, is the little boy afraid of the big bad wizard?" Chug taunted.

"I am not afraid." Ty spat back, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly.

"This is good coin, brother." Vance said, staring at his little brother. He gestured to the lot of them. "There are six of us. We can take on any mage."

"What if there are more than one?" Anwen spoke up to everyone's surprise. She lowered her head under their gazes.

Ronan hated to admit it, but Ty and Anwen were right, though he had the feeling that Anwen was only out to save her own hide while Ty was simply too scared. Any mages that were still out there would be desperate to remain free, especially after all this time. He thought of his brother, Tristan. He was a powerful mage. He'd hate to face even one mage like him, let alone two or three at the same time. He should speak up, but he didn't want to appear a coward.

"Anwen, sweetness, we can take them." Vance reassured her.

"Based on what?" Anwen pushed. "In the last couple of months, all we've done is kill a few horse thieves and chase off a few hungry refugees from stealing early crops. How can that compare to a couple of mages who've been on the run for a few years now?"

Vance glanced to Chug and Fritz, who both shrugged. "Cowards, the whole lot of you are cowards. What about you my Dalish friend? What do you think we should do?"

Ronan tapped the marble table in thought. "Gods, there is nothing I like more than a challenge. I once killed a Tevinter magister and his apprentice. They weren't that powerful once they were away from their mercenaries." Ronan paused. He remembered the slaver ship, the exhilaration at killing the mage who wanted to enslave his whole clan. He glanced at his stump of a hand. It was the Qunari that had proved difficult. He'd had the blood lust running through his veins then and only one thing on his mind: vengeance. It had been a different matter altogether from what Vance was proposing. Catching thieves was one thing, but catching mages? Their only crime was wanting freedom, at least as far as he could tell.

Ronan glanced at Anwen. Her head was downcast, but her eyes looked up pleadingly at him. Whatever he said, Vance would still be outnumbered. He couldn't bring himself to say the words, that he didn't want to take this bounty. Instead, he shrugged.

Vance slammed his fist onto the marble table. "Maker's ass."

"We should leave mage-hunting to the experts." Ty suggested.

Vance stood up. "Fine. But don't come whining to me when we run out of coin, or when you decide not to be a bunch of bloody cowards."