They broke off their kiss when several magisters had left their seats and approached the victors. Claudius was the first to congratulate Hawke.

"An impressive recovery," he said. "For a moment I was quite certain you were done for. It was a lucky coincidence that Gaius suddenly lost control over his spell..."

Hawke grinned triumphantly. "Lucky indeed," he cheerfully agreed. "But I am a man known for my luck."

Claudius' eyes glimmered darkly. "So I've seen. Extremely fortunate for you that Gaius made such a beginner's mistake. Usually even our apprentices are above that level."

"Insufficient willpower," Hawke replied with a shrug.

"Hmm."

The Archon gave Claudius a disapproving look. "Magister Claudius, where are your manners? Our Fereldan guest has treated us on an excellent display of magical ability, and yet you are trying to downplay his victory. Would you accuse any of your colleagues of winning by sheer luck? Now be a good host and invite our victor to the celebration party."

Claudius made a formal bow in the Archon's direction. "Of course. Apologies." He turned back to Hawke. "As is our custom, there is a party in honor of the duel's victor. Since it is my turn to be the host, you are more than welcome in my home to properly enjoy your victory."

"I do love parties." Hawke returned Claudius' bow, although he made sure it was not a deep as the magister's. "I will gladly seize the opportunity and take advantage of your hospitality."

When Claudius smiled, he reminded Fenris very strongly of Danarius. "Marvelous! We will leave when you're ready."

Hawke looked like he felt completely ready for a victory party, but Fenris placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him down a little to whisper in his ear. "We can't leave yet."

Hawke stared at him, his brow lowered in confusion. He waited for an explanation, but Fenris was not willing to give one in front of the magisters. When he did not get a reason, Hawke straightened. "If you don't mind, I'd like a moment to recover before I go with you," he told to Claudius. "You can travel ahead if you wish. We will follow shortly."

Claudius tilted his head. "Very well. I'll make sure everything is arranged for your arrival." With that, Claudius and the majority of his colleagues took their leave. Feynriel seized the opportunity to quickly embrace Hawke and congratulate him before he trotted after his mentor.

After the men, a large group of women walked past them. They deliberately moved slower than their spouses and took the time to glare hostilely at Hawke and Fenris. In their midst was a plump woman, weeping bitter tears and wailing in grief. Gaius' wife. Now widow.

"The women don't appear to be fond of you," Fenris commented dryly.

"Ah well, I've never been very interested in them anyway," Hawke said airily. "Can you tell me now why we're still standing here? I honestly would like to sit down. And eat all Claudius' food."

Fenris did not answer. Instead he walked to where he had come from, towards Gaius' corpse. Two slaves were busy lifting the magister's remains on a stretcher to carry him out of the arena. Though Fenris was not very interested in the charred corpse he could not help but notice a hole in the body's abdomen. "What exactly did you do to him?" he asked Hawke while he climbed over the marble balustrade.

"Knocked him over with some force magic when he lost his spell, gutted him with an ice spike, then burned him with fire to finish it. Didn't you see it? It was quite spectacular, if I might say so myself."

"I did not see it, no. I was occupied, as you should well know." He had reached the body of the slave. She was still slumped against the first step of the arena, her head resting on one shoulder in an awkward angle. Apparently her presence had not caused panic among the crowd. Imperial citizens knew what they were supposed to ignore. Nobody around them gave any indication that they saw the dead woman. People enthusiastically discussed the duel and its surprising outcome, pointing fingers in Hawke's direction and whispering behind their hands. A dead slave did not dampen the mood of those fortunate enough to have claimed a viewing spot in the arena. Knowing Hawke was right behind him, Fenris took a step aside.

Hawke cursed when he noticed the slave. "Oh, no. I had forgotten about that for a moment." A sigh. "Poor thing."

He knelt next to the woman's remains to examine the wound on her arm.

"He did not even bother with subtlety," Fenris spat. "According to the somniari a cut in the palm of her hand would have sufficed, yet he slit her open from wrist to elbow."

"He cut along the artery," Hawke mumbled. "She would have needed healing immediately after the duel or she would have died then as well. Perhaps Feynriel underestimated the amount of blood Gaius needed for his spells?"

"Have you not paid attention when fighting all those blood mages in Kirkwall? When your own blood mage cast her spells? Surely killing them would have been a lot easier if they'd been so kind to afflict lethal injury upon themselves as soon as the battle started."

"It was mere speculation. I don't know if a wound like this was required. It does seem excessive." Hawke got to his feet. "Alright, you've successfully ended the moment of victory but I'm still not sure what you want from me. She's dead. I can't do anything for her."

"You cannot just leave her here. She is your responsibility now."

"Mine? This is your dead body. My fat guy over there is already being taken care of!"

Fenris folded his arms. "I meant that she is your dead slave now."

Hawke gaped at him, glanced down at the slave, then raised his head to gape some more. "Please tell me you're joking."

"You dueled for Gaius' mansion and everything in it. If this slave belonged to Gaius, she has now become your property."

"But... but what am I supposed to do with her then? Carry her over my shoulder to Claudius' party?" When Fenris did not answer, he went on. "Does she have family somewhere? Should she be returned to them? I don't even know what Tevinters do with their dead."

"Imperial citizens are usually burned. Slaves are buried."

Hawke frowned. "Why not burn slaves as well? Seems like less trouble."

"Yes, what use could corpses possible serve?" Fenris said sarcastically. He saw Hawke's frown deepen and then his eyes widen as he understood.

"Please tell me you're-"

"I am not joking."

"They don't cremate slaves because they could be used for necromancy?"

"This still surprises you?"

Hawke scratched his freshly-shaven chin. "I suppose it shouldn't, huh?" He let his hand fall back to his side. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do at the moment. I can't simply set her on fire her. There are too many people still in the building, and it would be highly disrespectful as well."

"And leaving her here wouldn't?"

"I... Maker's blue balls! Just say what you want me to do then!"

"I don't know either," Fenris admitted. "But she is your dead slave."

"I told you I have no idea what to do with her!" Hawke snapped. He took a deep breath, once more looked down at the body, and asked in a calmer voice: "Do you think they will bring her back to the mansion if we leave her here?"

"Not likely."

Hawke nodded, more to himself than to Fenris, turned around and grabbed the arm of the man closest to him. "You," he said brusquely. "Take this woman to Gaius'... now my mansion, will you?"

The man wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I am no slave to be ordered by a savage!"

Hawke strengthened his grip on the man's arm. Fenris thought he could see tiny flames light up around Hawke's fingers. The smell of burning fabric confirmed his suspicion. "Do you really think it's wise to call me a savage after what you've just seen?" Hawke hissed while the man gasped at the burning of Hawke's fingers. "You will receive payment. Now get to it, or you can join the beloved magister Gaius." The Tevinter immediately picked up the dead woman after Hawke released him and carried her away. When he was out of sight, Hawke smoothened his shirt. A ripple of magical energy went through the air, detected by Fenris' hyper alert markings. When Hawke looked up again, the last traces of Gaius' blood magic had disappeared. The skin of his neck and face was smooth again - apart from the reddish stubble on his cheeks.

"Now... time for a little celebration."

Outside of the arena they found their escort waiting for them. A lectica, carried by four slaves stood ready, as were several armed men who were supposed to serve as bodyguards. Hawke stared at the lectica distrustfully.

"What is that?"

"A lectica. You can be carried to Claudius' estate if you wish."

"Carried?!" Hawke bristled in indignation. "Do they think I'm incapable of walking? That Gaius hit me so hard that I can no longer stand on my legs? Bah! I'll walk."

Fenris chuckled, secretly relieved that Hawke did not want to be carried through the city after his glorious victory. "You saw the magisters arrive in these things," he said. "They all use them."

"Good thing I'm not a magister then."Hawke started walking, keeping up a brisk pace to make it absolutely clear he was still able to use his own legs. The empty lectica and the bodyguards followed hastily. "If I had let myself be carried around Kirkwall and to the Wounded Coast and Sundermount, my head would be the size of my ass by now."

Had it been a hot summer's day, Hawke might have changed his mind on the way to Claudius' home, but with winter near the streets were cool and the sun was unable to truly warm them. Fenris' amusement at Hawke's refusal to use the lectica was long gone by the time they approached Claudius' mansion. Despite the cool weather he was sweating. The markings continued to spread their heat. He checked a few times if he was glowing. Fortunately the lyrium was not fully active and appeared relatively calm, but every now and then he was aware of the lyrium lighting up, ever so lightly. Fenris tried to silence the markings several times, but he felt his energy draining. The prospect of having to spend time in a room filled with magisters became even less enticing. He would rather return to their room at the inn, or the mansion that Hawke could now call his own.

"Why are we going to this celebration again?" he asked after another annoying pulse of the markings.

"To gloat."

"You got what you wanted," Fenris grumbled. "We can simply go to Danarius' old mansion."

Hawke shook his head. "We won. Why would we immediately run off to that place? Claudius hosts that celebration to honor the victor, and against their expectations, I am the victor. We beat them at their own game. Think about it: they want to appear civilized. Claudius was offended that I mocked him when he told us he had bribed Danarius' informants. Just now the Archon himself scolded Claudius for trying to downplay the outcome of the duel. For some reason they thought they could play this by the rules - their rules - and win. We have to remind them of that and hope that they will continue to honor their own laws. So we go to the party they're holding in our honor and subtly annoy them. It'll be fun."

"I can't wait," Fenris sighed. He stopped and brushed his sweaty hair from his forehead. "Here it is."

Claudius' mansion was one of the largest in Minrathous. It was located at the center of the rich district and was surrounded by a lush garden. Hawke could not hide his admiration as he walked past the exotic plants. The temperature seemed to rise a few degrees as soon as they set foot on the magister's domain. The garden appeared untouched by fall or winter, with flowers in all possible colors in bloom. Before they had reached the front door it was opened and Claudius stepped outside to welcome them, a smile on his face. "And finally the Champion arrives! Welcome! Welcome to my home. It is an honor to have you here. Please, do come inside." The magister led them through a vast hall; complex, colorful mosaic decorated the floor; plants and statues were placed in just the right places. Soon they arrived in the room where the rest of the guests had already gathered. Magisters and lower members of the Senate were seated on benches with soft pillows, talking to their colleagues, sipping wine and nibbling on the small delicacies that were offered to them by polite slaves. Fenris' gut tightened at this display of perfect obedience. Danarius used to have me pour wine for his guests. My appearance intimidated them, he said, which he enjoyed. This was too familiar, too much, too close. His step faltered. "I do not wish to be here," he said in a hushed voice to Hawke.

Hawke offered an encouraging smile. "I'm sure it won't be long."

"I..."

"Can I offer you something to drink?" Claudius politely inquired.

"I'd like a glass of Agreggio Pavali," Hawke replied with a stony face. "If you have some."

Claudius' teeth glinted in his smile. "Ah, you have good taste. I will order for a bottle to be opened immediately."

Hawke bent towards Fenris, and whispered: "Don't decorate the walls with this one." With a snicker, he straightened.

You have no idea how tempting that is.

"Do it!"

"Crack a bottle on one of their heads!"

"Olives, my lord?"

Fenris started as a silver tray was held under his nose. He quickly stepped away from the young slave, who was looking at him expectantly. He was an elf, no more than twenty summers old, with blond hair and light brown eyes. When Fenris stepped back, the slave's expression went from polite to fearful nervousness. He quickly sank into a deep bow. "Apologies," he muttered. "I did not mean to offend."

Fenris wanted to say something, reassure the young man, but before he could manage to come up with suitable words, the slave had already turned and fled to a group of four guests who were having a passionate discussion about an unknown topic.

"Did you just scare somebody off?"

"I am in no mood for this, Hawke."

Hawke misinterpreted his words. "That's still no reason to be mean to the servants." Slaves, Hawke. These are not servants.

Another slave, a pretty human woman, brought Hawke his wine. Hawke thanked her and accepted his glass. She hesitated for a second before she offered Fenris a glass as well. His mouth a thin line, he took the glass filled with blood-red liquid from her. Fenris inclined his head to show his gratitude. He did not know what else he could do.

Hawke had already drunk half of his wine when Fenris was still staring at the glass in his hands. He had just been served by a slave. For years he had done what those slaves were doing: pour wine, serve the master and his guests.

They were afraid of him. He could see it in their eyes, in the way the man had grown uneasy when Fenris rejected the simple service he offered, how the woman had hesitated before she offered him wine. They feared him, but why? These two slaves were too young to have served alongside him ten years ago and they had not belonged to Danarius' household. Was it simply his appearance then? He realized that he must be looking worse than during his time with Danarius; clammy - almost feverish - as he felt now, and with the lyrium sending its blue warning at random intervals. Not that he had had much contact with his fellow slaves when he had served as Danarius' bodyguard... Danarius had always kept Fenris with him, always close, always ready to serve. Always on the leash. He could not recall ever having eaten or slept with the others. Now that he was thinking about it, he was no longer certain that was all because of Danarius' wishes, or because the other slaves had avoided him then as well.

Hawke nudged him with an elbow. "The creepy magister is coming our way."

Magister Macarius indeed approached them, without his sour apprentice this time and leaning heavily on his staff. He stopped in front of Hawke, his head bobbing up and down, and giggled. "We Tevinters tend to believe that we are unmatched when it comes to the field of magic. It is good to see us proven wrong by a foreigner. Oh, the look on their arrogant faces! Priceless!" He laughed softly to himself.

"Gaius was no friend of yours, I take it?" Hawke said coolly. He made not much effort to hide his wariness while talking to the magister.

Macarius scoffed. "None of these serpents are friends of mine. Do not be fooled by their smooth faces, little barbarian." Hawke scowled at that. Apparently he did not appreciate to be called "little barbarian" by an old, deformed little man whose head did not even reach to his chin. "The true evil hides inside."

"Macarius, you old fiend!" Claudius appeared next to the deformed magister. "I hope you are not bothering our guest with wild tales and slander?"

"Not at all," Macarius murmured. "I was merely congratulating..."

Claudius' smile failed to reach his eyes, which looked cold and dangerous. "Good. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to discuss something with messere Hawke..."

Macarius nodded, his colorless eyes somehow as unfriendly as Claudius'. "Of course, of course," he said, and shuffled away.

Claudius' gaze followed his colleague until he was certain that the magister was out of earshot. "Forgive me my rudeness," he then said to Hawke. "But I would like a moment to discuss our deal. As I'm sure you recall, part of our agreement was that I could examine Fenris here if I aided you. Of course I do not wish to appear impatient, but I have a busy schedule, so I would appreciate it if we could make an appointment."

Fenris combated the urge to grab the magister and smash his arrogant head on the marble floor. These people truly were the most despicable beings to be found on earth! In the arena the magister had barely been able to hide his shock and disappointment when Hawke won the duel, yet a few hours later he was back to pretending that he had done nothing but help them. The hypocrisy was baffling. One thing was certain: Fenris would not let that rat touch him. Claudius would find himself absent a heart if he dared to stretch one finger in Fenris' direction.

"I think your memory is faulty," Hawke told Claudius. "If I remember correctly, we agreed that you would help us to get access to the mansion that used to belong to Danarius so that we could get the information we need to stabilize Fenris' markings. I would give you all information we found on the ritual and you could examine Fenris when we succeeded. We are one step closer; we have the mansion, but we are not done yet."

Claudius pursed his lips. "I don't think that was what..."

"I think it was. Until the ritual has been undone, you will not touch Fenris. Is that clear?"

"Very." Claudius' dark eyes were narrow slits and it was clear that he was not happy with this refusal, but he did not wish to argue in front of the rest of the Imperial elite. "In an hour the first course will be served. You will dine with us, will you not? The winner of a duel is allowed the honorable seat on the Archon's left."

"Oh yes, I'm starving."

"Good. If you excuse me, I have other guests to entertain."

Fenris allowed the air in his lungs to escape when Claudius took his leave. He was grateful for Hawke's quick thinking, but the game they were playing was a very dangerous one. Hawke was no trained diplomat. It was only a matter of time before he ran out of tricks to keep Claudius at bay. Then they would have a true confrontation. Fenris did not look forward to that. One step at a time, he reminded himself. Day by day.

An hour crawled by. Hawke spent most of that time chatting with Feynriel and asking questions about the people who were present. Feynriel pointed out the most important people of the Imperium and provided Hawke with short descriptions. Though he tried to pay attention to the things Feynriel told them, most of Fenris' energy was put into standing straight and not falling over.

"Sleep."

"You know you're tired."

"Only for a moment."

He recognized most people Feynriel pointed out. Only a few faces had changed. Ten years ago there had been two female magisters. Now there was only one. The apprentice of another magister had had an accident and had died.

"I've been informed dinner's ready," Claudius announced. "If you'd all be so kind to follow me."

Obediently the crowd of nobles followed their host to the dining room. They found a long, laid table waiting for them. A row of slaves was standing ready near one of the walls, holding trays with wine and water, or plates with the first course: small shrimps baked in cream.

As Claudius had promised, Hawke was offered a chair next to the Archon. Fenris was seated on Hawke's other side, next to Feynriel. As he sat down, he thought he caught a glimpse of a head with a red bun amidst the people on the other side of the table, but when he focused his eyes he did not see the face he expected. My mind is playing tricks on me.

When everybody had found his or her place the slaves rushed forward to bring food and drink. A few of the guests had already had a little too much alcohol and were becoming louder. One, seriously obese, magister squeezed the buttocks of the elven woman who brought him his plate and laughed when he saw her eyes widen in surprise. Fenris averted his gaze. Repulsion left a filthy taste on the back of his tongue. He could not believe that he was sitting at the same table as the people he had once served, to be served himself. He wished he could throw this fancy table upside down and walk away without looking back, but for some reason he was trapped here, as trapped as when he had been forced to serve. He did not know which role he hated more.

Course after course was brought and taken away again. Fenris ate little and spent most of his time staring at his full plate, at food he had never dreamed he would get to taste. Caviar, salmon, oysters, dear, boar, pheasant, swan... the list of meals was endless. Yet to Fenris it all tasted the same. Ashes.

He and Hawke were the center of attention, but people were mostly talking about them instead of talking to them. After what was perhaps the fifth course, the Archon graced himself to address Hawke. "Tell me, serah, what do you know of the rebellions in the South?"

"The South?"

"Yes, about the mage rebellions. According to our sources the Circles are collapsing. Did you not play a part in that?"

"Not really."

"Yet the mages seem to cry out your name when they fight their templars."

Hawke's face went slightly pale. "I was there when the Circle in Kirkwall fell apart. The Knight-Commander there lost her mind and wanted to annul the Circle without valid reasons. I decided to defend the mages."

"An admirable decision," the Archon decided. "With far-reaching consequences."

"I thought Tevinter would approve of mages' freedom in the rest of Thedas?"

The Archon smiled thinly. "Except there's no such thing yet beyond our borders and mages are fleeing to Tevinter en masse."

Hawke struggled to keep up. "And this is... bad?"

"They're potential competition," the Archon said simply. "At least the majority of the Senate considers them as such. They fear all these mages might upset the balance in the Imperium, as they've already done in the Free Marches, Orlais and Ferelden. We are occupied with the Qunari conflict. Unrest within our own realm is highly undesirable. "

"I'm... not sure why you are telling me this. It's not like I can do something about it."

"Ah, I am just making conversation," the Archon reassured him. "I merely thought you might be interested to hear that you have unleashed war."