So, This Dwarf Walks Out of a Bar...

Varric sat forward in his favorite chair, his eyes narrowed with focus. It was late, well after midnight, but the Hanged Man still bustled with activity. It was pay day for the Templars, and the mood in the tavern was high. Chants encouraging a rather raucous drinking game could clearly be heard in the background.

The irony of the night, was not lost on the rogue. Normally, he would lap up the fact that the pious bunch somehow managed for their vows to loosen up – and for some, disappear altogether – when coin was in their purse.

Normally, he'd be mingling amongst them, egging on their debauchery while he milked the naive fools for information. Normally.

The night, however, had taken an abrupt turn from 'normal' when Walter had tugged at his coat sleeve and whispered dark news in his ear.

"So this man, he's the one from Starkhaven? You're certain? Absolutely sure?" Varric queried, his tone hard.

"Yes, Varric, ser," the young man nodded vigorously. "He's here on orders, and from what I can tell, he's working against Hawke and the Prince. I was at the outpost when he came in."

Varric shoved back from the table and began to pace. "Tell me again, Walter, and don't leave anything out."

Walter swallowed once and cleared his throat. "I was taking paperwork to the Coterie offices in Lowtown, reports and such from their informants in Darktown, nothing of any import, I made a point to check, like you told me to," he began.

"Good, that's good. Then what?"

"Uh, so anyway, I tucked myself into one of the alcoves in the corridors outside of the office so I could go through the satchel," Walter resumed. "That's when I heard 'im, the fellow from Starkhaven you were looking for. The accent was a dead giveaway."

"And he said…" Varric encouraged.

"He asked the head man there, Oslo, if they'd had any new information on where the Champion was. At least, that's what I got it, he speaks funny. That's when Oslo took him into the back room."

"What then, Walter?" the dwarf demanded, anxiety creeping up his spine. "What happened after that?"

"I tried, Varric, I swear I did, but I couldn't get close enough to hear all of what was said," Walter said apologetically. "I heard some snatches, but didn't get the whole conversation. I'm sorry."

The rogue cursed softly. "Okay, kid, I know you did your best," Varric replied. "But tell me what you did hear, and then explain how they parted ways. Did the fellow from Starkhaven stay long? Did he leave with that man Oslo?"

"No, he stayed in the office with Oslo for about ten minutes, but I did clearly hear Hawke's name, and I know I heard him mention a Tisdale, and the name of the captain, the one who took Hawke out of here? Uh, Foster, that's the name!" Walter said in a rush. "Oslo left the office first, and he took off in a tear. I almost followed him."

"Almost?"

"I thought, well, 'what would Varric do'? So I stayed tight, and when the foreigner finally left, I followed him instead."

Varric stopped pacing and turned slowly back to face Walter, a grin spreading across his features. "Walter, my boy, please, oh please, tell me you know where the bastard is staying."

Walter returned the smile. "Whitman's Inn, room seven."

Varric clapped his hands together and a bark of laughter escaped him. "Walter, consider yourself promoted!" he announced with glee. Quickly, he scratched out a note and folded it, turning to Walter and holding it out. "Take this to David in the east warehouse, and then wait for me back here; we'll talk about your new duties and who will report to you then. And here," the dwarf paused, pulling five sovereigns from his lockbox, passing the gold to an astonished Walter. "Damned fine job, Walter."

"Wow! Varric, thank you!"

"No, kid, thank you! You just saved the day!" he clapped Walter on the arm and grabbed Bianca. Leaving the young man still gaping at the gold in his hand, Varric left for Hightown.

xXx

Anders sat in the middle of the tap room, his mug of ale still half full. The barmaid had been by a few times, and he knew she was ready for him to either drink up or move on. He'd been there for nearly an hour, trying to eavesdrop on the conversations around him, but as of yet he'd heard very little information that was relevant to him.

"Oy, mister, you really need to help me out here," said a feminine voice from over him. He looked up and saw that the barmaid had again returned a frown on her face. "I don't mean to be rude, but you're costing me good coin. Please, either order another drink, or let the table get filled by some others, alright?"

"Sorry," Anders replied. "I was just hoping to catch some news of back home, that's all. I didn't mean to take up your table."

"News? That's why you're lingering so? I can help you with that. Where you from?"

"Kirkwall," he replied. "It's been years since I lived there, but it sounds like things are getting bad."

The barmaid snorted. "Yeah, I'd say a blown up chantry, a murdered Grand Cleric and half the Templars in Thedas occupying the place is 'bad'," she said with a frown. "That place is going to the Void in a hand basket. My mum's living there; I just sent her a letter, asking her to come here, where it's safe."

"So things have worsened?"

"What's the last you'd heard?" she asked, placing her tray on his table top.

"I'd heard about the chantry."

"Yeah, a mite bit more has happened since then," she answered, shaking her head. "Where've you been? Under a rock?" She tapped a finger against her lips. "Let's see. Well, the rumors had been the Champion had killed the mage who'd murdered the Grand Cleric and all them poor souls in the chantry," she began. "'Course, now we all know that's not true, because there's posters for that blighter all over. Obviously, he ain't dead."

Anders nodded and took a sip of his ale.

"Turns out, the Champion was protecting the monster! Apparently, more than that, word is she helped him do it! So now, most folks are saying the Divine will move against the city any day," she continued. "I can believe that, just lookin' at the number of Templars that have been coming through here. When you ask them, they're all headed to Kirkwall."

"The Champion is a good woman, or so I'd always heard," Anders defended, but the last of the woman's words distracted him from his defense of Lorelai. "Templars? The Chantry is moving them? But I thought they were for mages? Didn't the mages there flee?"

"Well, of course they're for the mages, ser. But from what I hear, mages there are running loose, the ones that didn't leave, that is, and we all know they've got vengeance on their minds! And now, a 'hero' to rally behind, since that mage didn't die," she said. "And they've got no Viscount running things, you know. Kirkwall is in chaos."

"Can you blame them? Can you really blame the mages?" he snapped, and then, realizing his tone had startled her, tried to recover from his harsh rebuttal. "What I mean to say is, if the things I've heard about how those Circles are run are true, maybe we'd be upset too, if we'd lived that way."

"Anna! Can I get another?" asked a woman at an adjacent table, holding up her mug.

"Uh huh, sure thing," Anna replied and then turned back to Anders. "That can't justify what they've done in Kirkwall, no matter what's true about those Circles. He pitched the whole city into ruin, the bastard. Sorry, one second," she said and turned to yell the woman's order to the barkeep. "Anyway, as I was sayin'. It's madness, attacking the Chantry like that lunatic did. I ask you, how did he think he was helpin' his kind? Every mage in the Marches is under watch now, and I for one say we should lock all of them up!"

Anders swallowed down his anger and drew a breath. He wanted to ask her more about Lorelai, but he needed to control his temper. "So," he began with a strained tone. "I'd heard the Champion wasn't involved, thought this mage had done it alone? If the rumors are she helped him, then what happened to her? Was she arrested?"

"Nope! She's wiggled out of justice, it seems," she answered. "Amazing that, 'cause the way I hear it, she was his lover and he had her help him. She planted the bombs herself, from what people are saying. And then, of all things, she's run off!"

His head snapped up, his heart hammering inside his chest. "Run off? The Champion left the city?"

"Indeed. Apparently, she was also carrying on an affair with some lay brother, and that brother turned out to be a Vael!" she shared eagerly. "Now she's gone and married the man, taken his name!"

"It wasn't just any Vael, Anna," said another barmaid who was placing a drink in front of a customer at the table beside Anders's. "It was the Vael, as in the real Prince of Starkhaven. You know the last survivor of that poor murdered family? I heard he's gone back to Starkhaven and is going to take his throne. She's going to be the bloody Princess of Starkhaven!"

The man who was taking his drink from the barmaid barked out a harsh laugh. "Now isn't that a pisser? She kills the Grand Cleric, starts a bloody war, and makes off, scot free, with a crown and an army to boot!"

"She'll need the army, when the Divine comes for her!"Anna replied and then frowned slightly. "Wait, then which Vael is running Starkhaven now?"

"Some cousin that everyone hates," the other barmaid replied. "Can you imagine though? I mean, what a life! She's got how many lovers, blows up half a city, and still marries a damned prince! Maker, I wish the woman would teach a class!"

The barmaids laughed together.

"Bet she sucks a good cock!" offered the man, who then raised his mug high. "Maker knows, a man would do a great deal for that."

"Watch your mouth, Jarred! This is a family place!" Anna scolded with a laugh. "Though you know what I just remembered, I was told in market this morning? That the mage was a blood mage!"

"Oh! Aren't they supposed to be able to make you do things? Like, oh, what do they call it? Mind control?" the other barmaid speculated excitedly. "Maker, think on that!"

The trio carried on their conversation above his head, none noticing that Anders was gripping the sides of the shabby table. Blood rushed in his ears, the din of his anger nearly deafening. He didn't hear their continued speculation, only felt the fury of betrayal. "She was not lovers with Vael! They're not lovers!" he snarled, his tone rendering the others silent. He looked up at the women. "Do you hear me?"

The barmaids gaped and Anders got to his feet, shoving roughly past them.

"Hey! Arsehole!" grumped the other barmaid as she righted herself. "What's wrong with him?"

Anna watched Anders move away from them. "Wait! You owe me six copper!" she cried out, realizing he was leaving. "Bugger it all!" she cursed and began to work her way through the crowd, hoping to catch up with the stranger. She saw a glimpse of her customer as he reached the front door and she hurried outside after him. "Wait! Thief!"

As she exited the building, she skidded to a halt, and looked up and down the dark street. The stranger was gone, but a guardsman was just coming around the corner. "Hey there!" she cried out, drawing his attention. "I just had someone leave without payin'!"

The guardsman hurried over to her. "What happened? Describe him!"

And she did.

xXx

Merrill paced Varric's room in the back of the Hanged Man, her nerves making her jump with each loud laugh from the front. She'd been there since the noon meal, Norah having shared with her that the dwarf had gone to investigate something, and should be back soon. The afternoon lull had set in, and Merrill bit her lip nervously.

"Norah?" the elf asked quietly after she had walked to the bar. "When did Varric leave, exactly?"

Norah paused and looked thoughtful. "Oh, well, I guess it was about midnight. Why?"

"What time is it now?"

Norah glanced up at the highest window, its pane held open by a rotting plank of wood. "Looks like it's about four to me."

"Oh my, isn't that a bit long? For Varric to not have been here?" Merrill pondered. "Doesn't he normally meet with people this time of the day?"

Norah frowned. "Actually, now that you mention it, yes, he does. Hey, Jimmy?" she called out, turning her gaze to the burly man at the far end of the bar. "Did you see Varric this morning?"

Jimmy, one of Varric's more trusted smugglers, shook his head as he pushed his food around his trencher with a crust of bread. "Nah. David came by, said he had a note from the boss, so I did my inventory with him, instead."

Norah turned back to Merrill. "Well, there you go then. Varric must have planned to be out, if he sent word to David. I'm sure he's fine."

"David, from the warehouse, yes?" Merrill asked, and Norah nodded. Merrill sighed, still unsettled. "Well, alright, if you think things are fine. I'll just go wait, then. May I have a bowl of stew?"

"Sure, I'll even get it from the fresh pot," Norah replied with a grin as she walked past to the kitchen. A moment later, the barmaid returned, a steaming bowl of lamb stew in her hand. "Here, I even managed to get you a fresh loaf of bread to go with it!"

"Oh, thank you, Norah. You're so kind," Merrill said quietly, taking the bowl from her. "I'll just go, uh, well, I'll go back up, then."

Norah looked at the elf with concern. "Merrill, you shouldn't worry so. Varric's a big boy, he can look after himself."

Merrill nodded sheepishly. "Yes, of course. Thanks."

xXx

Marie entered her husband's office and waited quietly as Cameron finished his conversation with one of his secretaries. Cameron noticed Marie and politely dismissed the man, who silently left the room.

"Hello," Cameron said, smiling at his swollen bride. "What brings ye here in the middle of your day? I thought ye an' the girls were having tea?"

Marie smiled. "Yes, we were, but I'm now incapable of sitting on those tiny chairs in the nursery, so Hannah was gracious enough to excuse me," she explained as she walked to him.

He reached for her and she joined him behind his desk, leaning against the gleaming wood. He rubbed her belly before he looked up at her. "Tha' was gracious o' her," he chuckled. "Are ye feeling well?"

Marie nodded and ran her fingers through his hair. He sighed and relaxed against her middle. "Cam, did you accept the invitation?"

Her husband frowned and sat back into his chair. "No."

She nodded. "We should go, you know this."

His handsome features grew tight in annoyance. "We've been ove' this, Marie. I've nae desire to see them, let alone attend some trite soiree where we'll be forced t' pretend I dinnae wish to pound Seb flat!"

"Darling, we can't avoid this. Regardless of how things stand between us and the Vaels, you cannot ignore your social obligations. Politics demands it."

Cameron didn't answer, but instead picked up a ledger book, and studied it intently.

"Cam," she whispered, but his head snapped up.

"Drop it, Marie, I mean it. This is a closed matter," he said sternly. "We will no' be attending and I will no' change my mind on this."

Annoyance bubbled inside her, but she knew her dear husband well enough to recognize that she wouldn't be getting anywhere with her logical argument. Sighing, she nodded and pushed off the desk. "I shall see you for dinner?"

He studied his ledger and did not look up. "Aye."

"Alright. I'll see you then," she said softly and left the room.

Cameron glared at the door, tossing the ledger onto the desktop with a huff. The leather slapped smartly against the wood, and the loose papers surrounding it fluttered, drawing his eyes down to the gilt invitation to the Palace. He snatched it up and crumpled it into a tight ball, his anger at the Prince still bitter bile in his gut.

Again he replayed the fight between him and Sebastian, and he stood to throw the balled invitation across the room. "Damn you, Seb!" he yelled. He sat down hard, his head in his hands. "Damn you."

xXx

Fenris sat with Captain Jenkins in the man's office, leafing through the previous evening's reports. He'd spent the day walking the town, quietly gathering what information he could about the direction of his prey. As of yet, he'd found nothing to confirm his feeling that Anders had been in the remote locale, but his instincts were something that Fenris had long ago learned to heed.

Patience was his ally, diligence his friend. Vengeance would be his reward.

"Is this all of the reports, Captain?"

Jenkins glanced up from his desk. "Yes, should be. I read through them already, and it seems it was a slow night. Except for some fella leaving his tab unpaid at the Broken Back, not a lot went on."

Fenris frowned. "It would appear so. I read that report; the perpetrator does not match the description of Anders."

"Did you finish speaking with the merchants?"

Fenris shook his head. "Not yet."

"Where'd you leave off?"

"I believe there are four remaining," the elf answered, glancing at the list Jenkins had given him that morning. "A butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker, and a shop listed as 'Millie's'," he replied.

Jenkins arched an eyebrow. "Huh, I'd have thought you'd have made a point to get to Millie's."

"Why would I have done so?"

"Seeing as how that's the local apothecary; if your mage needed supplies, he'd have to go there," the captain explained, turning his back to Fenris to tuck away his finished paperwork. He continued, speaking over his shoulder. "There isn't another option in town," he finished, moving back again to face the warrior, his words lost as his eyes focused on the now empty chair that Fenris had been in. The older man shook his head. "Guess I'll see you later, Fenris."

Five minutes later, Fenris was tugging on the handle of the apothecary's door, admitting himself to the small store. He walked silently to the front of the store, and, seeing that no one was present, carefully rang the small bell.

"Coming! Coming!" called a female's voice from a beyond a curtain that hung over a doorway to the side. An elderly woman appeared, a bright smile upon her face. "Hello! What can I do for you?"

Fenris bowed his head respectfully. "Good evening madam. I am Fenris of the Kirkwall Guard, and I am here on the behest of its captain, Aveline Vallen."

The woman's smile faltered slightly, but she nodded. "I've heard her name, a time or two. What brings you to my little shop?"

He cleared his throat. "I am pursuing the rogue mage who committed the heinous crimes against the Chantry and the people of Kirkwall. My pursuit has led me to this lovely village. It is my understanding that you are the only apothecary, are you not?"

The shopkeeper nodded. "I am. My name is Millie Goodwell. I run a respectable shop, ser."

Fenris smiled. "Of that I have no doubt, good lady. May I ask if you have had any customers with whom you were not familiar? Perhaps in the last two weeks?"

Millie nodded. "Sure. I've had a few," she replied. "Ah, I had a fellow in here last night, as a matter of fact. He bought some oil and a few other things."

"Was he a mage?"

"No, he wasn't dressed like one, and I didn't see a staff. He was dressed rather finely, as I recall, had on a lovely cloak."

"A cloak, you say?" the warrior repeated. "That seems unusual, given the heat, does it not? What did he buy?"

"Uh, well, I suppose it is a mite warm for a cloak. He uh, he bought oil, some elfroot and two live lizards. He was making a dye for his socks, he said."

Fenris's heart began to thud. "A man, in a cloak, bought ingredients for dying cloth?"

Millie again nodded. "Yes, that's right."

"What color would this dye have been, given what you sold him?"

"A dark color, a brown, or perhaps a black if one used both lizards. Though, now that I think on it, if he was making the dye yielded from those particular lizards, then it could be used for more than cloth."

"Could it be used for a person's hair?"

"Why, yes, I expect it could," she replied.

Fenris slowly pulled the folded wanted poster of Anders out of his breastplate and spread it open on the countertop. "The man who purchased the lizards, did he resemble the one in this picture?"

Millie glanced down at the paper and her color drained. "Yes, that's him. Is that the mage that killed the Cleric? Oh, oh dear! He was in my shop?" she cried in a panic. "Oh kind ser, I swear I didn't know! He was so polite, and he even paid me above cost! I didn't know!" Tears sprang into the elderly woman's eyes. "Maker, forgive me! I didn't know! I would never have…I'm a faithful Andrastrian!"

Fenris raised a hand. "Good woman, have no concern. Did he say where he was going? Did he say anything to hint at his direction?"

Millie, breathing heavily and wiping away tears, shook her head frantically. "No! I swear to you!"

"Is there anything else you can tell me?" he inquired and again, the woman shook her head. "I am very grateful, madam, for your aid. Please, alert a village guardsman should you see this mage again. Be wary: he is deadly, and should not be approached."

The merchant blinked rapidly. "Yes, I'll be very careful! Thank you!"

With a slight bow, Fenris left the shop, his steps taking him swiftly back to the office of Captain Jenkins.

"Fenris, I'm guessing you went to the apothecary?" Jenkins asked as the elf charged back into the office. He watched quietly as the other man began searching the previous night's reports. "Fenris? Did you learn something?"

"Perhaps," Fenris replied. "Where is the report regarding the man who left the Broken Back Tavern, his tab unpaid?"

"It's in there," Jenkins replied. "What's going on?"

"The mage is here, Captain. He visited the apothecary last night," Fenris explained. "If my theory is correct, he has changed his appearance. It is possible that the man from last night's incident with the barmaid is one and the same."

"Shit," Jenkins muttered. Fenris found the report and he and Jenkins studied it together. "Fenris, I think we need to go over there. Let's see what Anna can tell us about this thief of hers."

"Agreed."

xXx

Merrill was hiding in the alley outside of the Hanged Man. It was dark now, and she hoped to move through Lowtown with less attention; the last thing she needed was a Templar spotting her out and about, her staff barely hidden beneath her long cloak. Seeing the coast was clear, she began to move.

It was risky, she knew, to travel with proof for the Templars in hand, but thugs were abundant in this area, and she wasn't willing to waste time having to turn away from her purpose because ruffians blocked her path. Rounding the last corner, she slipped behind a column, waiting for a guardsman to pass. Finally, she hurried across the courtyard and rapped lightly on the door.

Whispers were exchanged and she was quickly ushered inside.

"Merrill, what's this all about?" called a woman from the loft of the warehouse.

"Penny! I'm so glad you're still here! Can I come up?"

Penny, Varric's right-hand in the warehouse, nodded. "Of course, is everything alright?"

Merrill climbed the stairs and she and Penny went to the back office. "Penny, I can't find Varric. No one seems to be worried, and Norah keeps telling me to relax, but I'm certain something's not right. Walter said he took a note to David last night, and that Varric was chasing down a lead about someone threatening Hawke. Do you know anything about that?"

Penny nodded. "Not about the lead, but I knew about Varric's orders. He asked David to meet with Jimmy this morning, since Jimmy was here last night to receive a few shipments. Normally, Varric likes to go through the latest stock himself, but he sent David over instead."

Merrill scratched her head. "Yes, that's what Walter said too. But Walter also said that Varric told him to wait for him back at the Hanged Man, which makes me think he intended to be back by now. I mean, Varric would never expect Walter to stay this long, he knows the boy's got Cricket to look after."

The human woman frowned. "Varric didn't let me know he would be gone for any length of time," she admitted. "I'll agree that's not how he would normally operate, but you know how he is when things have to do with Hawke. He's very protective," she reasoned, but seeing Merrill's concern was sincere, sighed. "You know what? Wait here, I'll be right back."

Penny left the office and Merrill watched her return to the floor of the warehouse, where she spoke with several men. Two left quickly and Penny walked back up to the office.

"No one's seen Varric today, but Gordon and Conrad are going to ask around, and they'll report back here," Penny explained. "He was investigating a threat against Hawke, you said?"

"Something like that, yes. Apparently Walter got a good tip and Varric hurried off."

"To?"

"Hightown, or at least, an inn there," the mage answered in a rush. "Oh, Creators, this is very bad, I just know it!"

Penny smiled kindly. "Listen, Varric's probably just fine. Knowing him, he got a lead from the lead and he's hot on the trail of something. I'll get reports form Gordon and Conrad and send someone to your place, give you an update, okay?"

Merrill shook her head. "No! I'm telling you, something's gone bad! Varric's in trouble!"

"Penny!" bellowed a man from the warehouse floor, and Penny stuck her head out of the door to answer.

"What? Gordon, you're back already?" she asked in surprise.

"Penny, Varric missed his meeting with the Antivan Brandy contact."

The woman's face grew tight and she slowly turned back to face Merrill. "Merrill? I think you may be…"

Merrill rushed past Penny, and, in the blink of an eye, the small elf raced from the warehouse and into the night, her staff clutched in her hand, all concern for her own concealment forgotten.

Nearly a half an hour later, the panting elf arrived at the front door of Kirkwall's Guard Captain. She began to pound in earnest.

A moment passed and the door opened, a bare-chested Donnic blocking her path. "Donnic!" Merrill cried. "Do move! I must see Aveline!" she exclaimed and wiggled her small frame through the minute space the large man didn't occupy in the door frame.

Not waiting, Merrill hurried to the back of the home, calling for Aveline as she went. The red haired human stumbled into the hall, clearly awakened from a dead sleep. "Merrill? What in the world are you doing here? What's gone on?" she demanded.

Donnic arrived, his eyes full of concern.

Merrill was still gasping for breath but tried to explain. "I told them," she panted, "but no one would listen! Kept telling me to be calm! How…Creators there's a lot of steps from Lowtown to here…" she swallowed and blew out a hard breath. "How can I be calm at a time like this?"

Aveline gaped. "Merrill! Why are you in my home in the middle of the bloody night?"

"Because we need you!"

Aveline nearly growled. "Why? Merrill! Why do you need me?"

"Weren't you listening? Varric is missing!" the small woman exclaimed.

"What? When did you say…wait, Varric is missing? Since when?"

"I'll just go get dressed," Donnic said, moving past his wife and into their bedroom.

Aveline stared at Merrill in complete confusion. "I just saw…"

Merrill threw her hands up in the air. "Aveline! Stop lollygagging! Get a move on! We've got to save our dwarf!" she exclaimed, and began to push Aveline back into her bedroom.

"Damn it, Merrill!" Aveline barked, pushing back at the elf. "Start explaining or I'm going to hit you!"

"Varric is gone, Aveline! He left to go find some man from Starkhaven at some inn that Walter told him about, and he's yet to return!" the blood mage said. "He's been gone since last night, and no one has seen him since! He even missed a meeting with a brandy smuggler!"

Aveline frowned and turned to look back at Donnic, who had finished dressing. "Starkhaven? Alright, Merrill, you've got my attention. Love, would you go find Walter?"

Donnic nodded. "Of course, we'll meet you at the Hanged Man," he said and left the room.

Aveline began to dress and Merrill paced up and down the hall while she waited. A few minutes later, Aveline appeared in her full plate. "Come, Merrill, let's go find our dwarf."

As always, thanks Lisa for the bangin' beta...more thanks for your general fabulousness!

Yeah, it's been awhile, hasn't it? How all y'all been? I hope well! I owe everyone a big apology for letting this story go so long with no updates. Y'all don't want to hear the three hundred reasons why it went as long as it did, but it's my hope to be able to do better...certainly better than every six freaking months! Thanks for reading and I hope you'll accept my humble apology!