Chapter 14: The Welcoming

No identifying features had been stripped from the bodies. The glorified sewer had not been kind to them, and even in the hours since Fenris had briefed Aveline on his discovery they seemed to have rotted significantly.

"I've read about spells that could preserve a corpse," Bethany said, plugging her nose while walking across the line of lower-class victims, "but never seen one cast."

"Tevinter madness, no doubt," Fenris said. "So reliant on magic they can't even honor the dead properly."

"Say what you will about it, but I'm guessing that's what the mage you fought here was doing," Bethany said. "You're sure they weren't as rotted last night?"

"Yes."

The upper row of bodies, the ones collected from Hightown, were being removed first. Aveline had seen to it that the injured Guard was given immediate medical attention, then began collecting whoever was awake in the Barracks and sent them to follow Fenris back to the sewer. She came shortly after with Bethany at her side. Now, she was busy comparing the wounds on the necks of each of the victims.

"None of this was sloppy," she said. "I know this isn't saying much, but this was done by an expert. Or experts, more likely."

"Taking care of the bodies one person could do easily enough," Bethany said, "but to collect so many bodies from all over the city, bring them here, and drain the blood from them so thoroughly, that would take multiple people. I couldn't tell you how many."

"Doesn't matter. We've found their work, we can find them. Blood mages, all of them," Fenris muttered. "A horde of maleficarum coming from the Imperium to do Maker-knows-what. It would be nice of Varric would tell us more about this plot we need to help him thwart. After seeing this, I don't care the cause, I'm not helping it."

"Can we be sure they're connected?" Bethany asked.

"It would make sense," Aveline said. She stepped out from the row of bodies and signaled for two of her guardsmen to begin collecting them. "He's been willing to tell us it's something from the Imperium. Fenris, you are positive the man you fought was Tevinter?"

"A mage in a slaver's cowl, oh yes," the elf growled. "Varric did tell me I might have a chance to kill a few blood mages. I'm glad he hasn't let me down."

"Men, continue securing the scene," Aveline ordered to her guards. "I trust Varric, I do, and I've taken his word so far, but if there's anything left for him to tell us, we need to know it. Fenris, Bethany, we're done here. We're going to the Hanged Man."

"Seeing this all again, it's a little eerie," Merrill said, gazing at the dilapidated buildings of Lowtown. "I know we walked past it yesterday, but did we really take the time to take it all back in?"

"Not at all," Hawke muttered, combing over a vendor's table of old books. "There's a guide to the best cheeses across Thedas. Merrill, I'm buying it. When we're done here, I say we go on a tour to try them all."

"Done?" Merrill paused. "Are we leaving again after this?"

"I assumed so," Hawke answered. "How much for this?"

"You… You're him!" The vendor stammered.

"Yes, it's true, it's me," Hawke sighed. "Everyone thinks I died years ago. The truth is I just filed off my horns and put on lots and lots of make-up."

"Wh-"

"You don't recognize me, the mighty Arishok?" Hawke jested. He grabbed the book, and laid down a few coppers. "The Qun demands you accept this much. Have a splendid day."

"A little mean, weren't you?" Merrill asked.

"I knew what was coming," Hawke said. "Either he was going to start going on, raving about the Champion coming home, or shout at me for freeing all the abominations from the Circle."

"Oh ma vhenan, you can be a little conceited at times."

"And handsome, don't forget handsome. And strong."

"Ha. Yes, all of those things," Merrill laughed. She spotted a jade bracelet at another stand, and dragged her husband to examine it. "You're still conceited by the way. But you can make up for it by buying me this."

"You do make redemption difficult," Hawke said, exchanging ten silvers for the bauble. Merrill beamed as she slipped it onto her wrist.

"Oi, ain't you the Champion?" the jewel asked. "Where the hell have you been, you bastard?!"

"Moving on," Hawke pulled away from the stall, Merrill following slowly, admiring her new bracelet.

The plan was to spend some time shopping. Merrill had insisted on looking at nearly every vendor in the square at the entrance to Lowtown. Hawke grew less and less comfortable the more people recognized him. He had hoped as they left the estate that morning that maybe the time away from the city had dulled memories of his face. This was in spite of the statue in his image standing in the most heavily-trafficked section of the waterfront. Either way, it had been a vain hope, and he was starting to pull in the general direction of the tavern that had been his primary social spot during his years in Kirkwall.

"Do you hear someone shouting?" Merrill suddenly asked, her attention diverted from the bracelet. Hawke craned his head up and listened. Shouting was far from unusual in this place, but he knew better than to ignore something that concerned his wife.

"It's not shouting, it's screaming," he said. "Maker, if that's at the Hanged Man…"

The couple didn't run to their destination, but they walked quickly from there, not stopping to look at any more stalls peddling cheap clothes or used weapons. And in minutes, they had come to the Hanged Man, and sure enough, the screaming came from there. A robust middle-aged woman was shrieking in front of the door.

"Stay away!" she cried. "Evil has infested this place, none are safe!"

"Madame, that's not evil, it's just cockroaches," Hawke quipped, pushing his way through the crowd that had gathered.

"The people inside are ensorcelled!" the woman screamed. "All of you, run from here, summon the Templars, horrible magic took them all!"

At this point Hawke's sarcasm gave way to genuine worry. His first full day back in the city, and there was a calamity in his favorite place. He shoved his way past the panicked woman, unsheathing his sword. Merrill, staff in hand, was right behind him. The two had gotten used to going into cities without their weapons on hand since their travels began, but both armed themselves when they left the mansion that morning, almost on instinct.

"I hope Varric's okay," Merrill said as Hawke opened the door.

"I don't-" Hawke paused mid-sentence. The Hanged Man looked like it had changed little in the time he had been gone. What was unusual: the patrons were all frozen in place. Not with ice, simply paralyzed. Some had looks of fear locked onto their faces, some seemed as if they'd barely noticed.

"I've never seen anything like this," Merrill whispered. "Ma vhenan, be careful."

Hawke nodded, and began scanning the tavern. He recognized a few odd patrons, and the bartender was an old one. There was no sign of Varric. He began moving his way through the human statues.

"Isabela!"

Merrill clutched her old friend by the arms. The sultry pirate was frozen in an awkward position at the bar, setting a pint glass down with one hand, reaching for a dagger with the other.

"What the hell happened?" Hawke asked. Merrill was passing her hand over Isabela's face. There was a slight yellow glow emanating from her fingers. "Are you sensing anything?"

"I know of spells that can do this to one person, for a moment, but an entire room of people, and for however long this has been…" Merrill couldn't finish her thought. "Hawke, step back."

Hawke complied. Merrill placed the bladed tip of her staff on the ground, clutched the shaft with both hands, and closed her eyes. The top of the staff began to glow the same shade of yellow as her hand had before. Merrill began muttering something in Elvhen, and the glow increased to a bright flash. Hawke shielded his eyes, and could hear people moaning.

"What the hell?" When Hawke lowered his arm, the bartender was rubbing his eyes. Three patrons around the bar were also moving again.

"Oh, I am going to cut his bloody throat!" Isabela roared, finally getting to wield her daggers. "Wait… Merrill?"

"Isabela, are you okay?" Merrill asked,

"Kitten, I am a lot of things right now. 'Okay' would not be one of them," the pirate groaned. "All these people. They're all awake, but stuck like this. It felt like an eternity…"

"Isabela, who did this?" Hawke asked.

"They went upstairs looking for Varric," she answered. "Come on, I have throats to slit."

"Merrill." Hawke gestured to the other people frozen in place in the bar. His wife nodded and hurried to a table in the middle of the room, getting ready to repeat the dispersion spell on a larger scale. Isabela ran up the stairs without waiting for him to follow. Hawke hurried behind her, into Varric's suite. He could hear the sound of somebody slumping to the ground, likely the first victim of Isabela's wrath.

"Let him go now and I won't pluck your damned eyes out!" the pirate roared. Hawke, sword in hand, ran inside. There was a serving girl, frozen in place by Varric's door, just like the people downstairs. A dead body, a long dagger sticking out of its neck, lay on the ground.

"I'm sorry, this got out of hand," came a voice sitting in Varric's bedroom. Hawke knew that voice. He'd heard it years ago. No, he'd heard it recently. It was the voice that called to him, looking for him in his dreams!

"Stay back, friend."

A hooded mage stood holding his staff, guarding the door. His side was bloody, and Hawke was sure Isabela had simply forced herself past him.

"You don't want to do that," Hawke growled. "I've killed worse than you for a lot less."

"Hawke?!" came that voice. "Serah Hawke, is that you? Let him pass."

Hawke moved past the mage, and entered Varric's room. The dwarf was frozen in place, like all the others. Isabela had a dagger in one hand, and a broken wine bottle in the other, threatening the owner of that voice. He was sitting on Varric's bed, looking excited.

"Hello Hawke," he said. "Or do you prefer 'Champion' now?"

"You?!"

As quickly as Aveline could disperse the crowd outside of the Hanged Man, people began racing out.

"Grab somebody and find out what the hell is going on!" she barked to a guard. "Bethany, Fenris, come on!"

Aveline led her companions inside. A few people were left in the tavern. The bartender was dispensing wet towels and shot glasses of whiskey. And helping him was a familiar face.

"Aveline, oh thank goodness!" Merrill dropped her staff and ran to her old friend. "We came looking for Varric, everyone was stuck in place like statues. I've been able to break the spell, but Hawke chased Isabela upstairs and I heard shouting."

"You didn't think to go help them?" Fenris asked, the frustration in his voice evident.

"Hello to you too, Fenris," Merrill said, going to reclaim her staff. "As I said, I've been freeing people from this spell. I don't know who cast it, Isabela took off too fast to say."

There was a loud crash from up the stairs. Aveline and Fenris reached for their swords and took off.

"Bethany, good to see you," Merrill said, following the others. "We tried to visit you at Vigil's Keep but you'd left for here already."

"Yes, well, I follow the excitement," Bethany said to her sister-in-law. The two mages followed Aveline and Fenris into Varric's suite. Two dead mages in Tevinter garb were spilling blood all over the floor, and four shadowy creatures, shrieks, spilled out from the bedroom.

Aveline charged into one, tackling it with her shield. Fenris swung at another with his great sword. Merrill and Bethany reached for their staffs, and took up positions on the other side of the room, aiming ethereal bolts at the monsters. Fenris dispatched his with an overhand strike to the head. The two that hadn't been engaged up close converged on him. Merrill reached out her hand, and a bolt of electricity arced from her palm. It struck one of the shrieks, then jumped to the other, stunning both. Bethany continued firing as Fenris hit one with the pommel of his sword. Aveline hopped to her feet, having taken her enemy to the ground, and swung her sword in a wide, quick arc.

"One at a time!" she barked. Merrill and Bethany both focused on the shriek nearest to her. Aveline shoved it with her shield, pressing it onto the point of Fenris's blade. The lyrium markings on Fenris's skin started to glow, and he swiped out with his free hand, trying to connect with the last creature. It slipped out of the way, then stopped and raised into the air. It was brought back down to the floor with a crash. Bethany approached, her spell completed, and bashed its head repeatedly with her staff.

"Fenris, the bedroom," Aveline ordered. Fenris went ahead, and found one more shriek, dead on the floor. Varric was standing in the room, not moving, looking like he was reaching for his crossbow. Isabela was repeatedly slapping him on the face and shouting at him to move. Hawke was sitting on the bed, his sword resting next to him. He looked jarred.

"Isabela, stop," Fenris said, grabbing the pirate's hand. She turned on him, looking like she was going to lunge. "It's me, calm down. What the hell happened here?"

"It was him," Hawke muttered.

"Ma vhenan, who was it?" Merrill rushed past Fenris and sat at her husband's side. Hawke looked at her, then around at Fenris and, as they entered the room, Aveline and Bethany.

"Sent him to Tevinter to help him, let him live his own life," he said. "What the hell does he want?"

"Sent him? Brother what are you talking about?" Bethany asked.

"I know who it is," Fenris said. His eyes narrowed, and his lyrium markings glowed even brighter.

"Maker, so do I," Aveline sighed.

"Looking for me in my dreams," Hawke said. "He's the one who Varric called us all here for. It's Feynriel."