A Tale from Tevinter
Chapter 28
Consequences
Whisper's arm hung low, a slash to the limb causing several drops of blood to trickle into his palm. He caught the red fluid, realizing somewhere in the back of his mind that it would reveal his location. He was lucky there hadn't been an alarm. The first Templar he'd killed had been sloppy work. Too much blood, too much mess. He'd left the body in the library, hidden away in a corner nook. It was the best he could manage in his current state. He had been compromised. A small smile caused his lips to twitch as he cursed Redder. Even in death the man was screwing everything up. A sound caused the rogue to spin, ducking behind a decorative statue that hid him from a Templar who following after a giggling mage. So, the stories were true, he idly thought as he recalled how Redder would regale him with the tales of life, and sex, within the Circle. Mostly the rogue figured he just wanted to boast of his supposed exploits. He didn't care then, and, other than drawing out another memory to haunt him, he didn't care now. Whisper waited for the two to depart before he made his way farther up the tower.
Before he'd taken the Templar apart, he'd learned what he needed to know. Who was to blame. Who had decided that making one of their prisoner's tranquil would prove easier, and more fruitful, than the torture had. He wasn't surprised, and from what he knew of circle dynamics from Redder's descriptions, he suspected it the moment he'd pulled his head together enough to form a concise thought.
Finding the Knight-Commander was easy.
Finding the quarters of top marks always was. They couldn't help themselves. Always posh. They all loved to take prominent rooms or homes in order to flaunt their importance with tapestries and statues that basically screamed 'important person stays here!'.
This Knight-Commander was no different.
Whisper slipped through the room's ornate doors like a ghost, moving without a sound as he slid along the wall of the room. His inheritance of elfish blood helped his eyes focus easily in the dark. The Blighted man was sleeping soundly in his large four post bed. Whisper pulled out a blade with a practiced motion that made not even a breath of sound as he withdrew it from its sheath.
The dip of the bed could have been avoided if he had followed protocol. He was breaking every rule of his training tonight.
The man awoke, straddled about the hips with a small framed, leather clad rogue. His hard, age worn face pinched in confusion, then realization. He reached back, no doubt going for a hidden blade tucked between the bedding. Whisper plunged his blade into the man's arm, between bone and bicep, pinning it to the bed as he used his other to shove a wade of sheets into the Templar's mouth. The scream was muffled behind the impromptu gage. His second blade was pulled and stabbed into the Knight-Commander's other arm, earning a second agonized scream from the old warrior. Whisper shoved his hand over the man's mouth, pushing the fabric into the templar's throat till he began to choke upon it. He was hyperventilating as Whisper reached down into his boot, pulling out the small hidden blade he kept there.
"There is only one I have enjoyed killing more," Whisper murmured as he leaned forward, using his weight to shove the man's head back, exposing his neck. The blade slid easily through skin and flesh as he opened him up just under the jaw. He cut slowly, again breaking another cardinal rule. It should be fast. It should be impersonal. It should be done, and you should be gone before the body falls.That wasn't what this was.This was personal, and he wanted it to last. He wanted the man to bleed out slowly. He wanted to watch the fear enter the old warrior's eyes as the cold, and the knowledge it brought, began to seep through his being. Ah, yes, there it was. Whisper waited, frozen, unblinking, unwilling to miss a moment of his revenge, until the struggling stopped. He waited and watched until the last lights fade from the man's eyes.
Sitting in a bed soaked in blood, straddling a corpse, Whisper came back to himself. He pulled back his blades, wiping them across the man's fine night cloths. It wasn't enough, but it never was and experience had proven that already. Nothing would put right the wrong committed upon his friend, his brother.
Redder had been a fool. An idiot. A noisy, obnoxious lout. He had also been a good man. Hehaddeserved better, but so many who died always did. Standing, Whisper looked down upon his hands and legs. He was covered in spatter, and soaked in red. It had been a while since he'd seen himself like this, and a chill ran up his spine as he smelled the familiar tinge of the metallic taste of copper that hung heavy in the air.
A knock at the door, an urgent voice calling to their commander.
Whisper spun on his heel. He saw the window when he'd first entered, another folly of those ingratiated with power. They tended toward rooms with grand views. They also made for good escape routes.
(zXz)
Aldo waited until the rays of the sun started to lighten the night sky. It was more time then Malcolm, or even Bethany had thought the ever-competent Whisper would need to return with Redder by his side. Bethany's teeth ached from how tightly her jaw clenched. Her fingernails had dug red crescents into her palms as she watched the door from where they stood on the far side of the mote.Malcolm hadn't been able to use the rope, and Aldo had jumped into the neck deep stream of much and sewage, holding a hand out toward the injured mage. Bethany had joined the hired thief, and they'd managed to get her father to the other side. She reeked of the stench of the dark water. Her robes were probably beyond saving, the smell set as the fabric dried about her as she stood, waiting for the half-elf rogue who never came.
When Aldo told them they needed to leave, that he wouldn't wait any longer, the two Hawks turned to follow their guide back through the sewers. "He'll make it," Malcolm said, placing his hand over his daughter's shoulder. "I've never seen a better rogue. He'll get Redder out."
"Then why are we leaving them?" Bethany snapped, her eyes burning, but she was pretty sure it wasn't solely from the putrid air. She didn't want to consider the fact that had been staring them blatantly in the face while they waited for hours on end; that something had gone wrong.
Whisper and Redder would not be coming back.
(xZx)
They had waited for what felt like an eternity. Probably because she felt so on edge. Fenris remained standing by her side, but he did not have his leathers or his weapon. They were both probably still bundled together in their rented room. That, or maybe the inn keeper had removed them. She would have the maid girl, Nadine, retrieve them when next she returned. She didn't like the way the appraiser was looking at her, or Fenris. Ever since he'd set eyes on her, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was evaluating them.
He wanted something, but she didn't know what. Nor could she understand why they waited. She half expected them to attack; the tension in the air was palpable. Were they waiting for the others to return? That seemed silly. They could outnumber them then. As it stood, she knew she couldn't handle a fight with these men. Fenris might not be as drained as her, but he was also unarmored and did not hold his sword.
Things were not in their favor.
The hatched opened, and Marian breathed out a sigh of relief. She'd be able to get Fenris' gear. The boots that followed with leather breaches and no skirt, however, dissuaded her pre-emptive plan. Two more rogues appeared. They shot Marian and Fenris looks, but moved instantly to the appraiser who appeared to be surprised at their appearance. One of the men whispered something into his ear, and the man visibly stiffened. He frowned, his one eyes squinting in thought.
Two more came down, closing the hatch behind them.
"Things have changed." The appraiser said, tilting his head toward the two who had been with him when he first arrived. "We need to return home. Boss's orders. You are to come with us." The appraiser said, his eye going to Marian and Fenris who stood on edge.
"No," Fenris said. Marian's hand's clenched into fists. Everyone was silent for a moment, a calm before the storm. It would be hard to say who struck first, they all seemed to move at once. The rogue closest to them entangled with Fenris. The elf ducked a blade that sailed past his head, as the rune's upon his body came alive. The lyrium pooled energy along his arm as the elf's arm reached forward and sunk his hand into the rogue's chest. The fear and shock that flickered through the other rogues was there, but short-lived.
Another had moved to take down Fenris, two blades drawn, even as he ripped the heart free of its chest. Marian tried to cast a torrent to knock back the rogue. The spell would have been laughable had the situation not been so dire. Another two had moved in on her as well, and she slammed her hands into the ground, but there was barley even a tremor. They were upon her, one gripping her about the chest, hauling her up. The second brought a hand over her mouth, and Marian felt the bite of a chemical assailing her lungs as she tried to yell. She coughed, her eyes fogging as she saw Fenris dispatching a second rogue, calling back to her. Her eyes swam, and the more she fought the darker the world became.
(xZx)
Aldo took them back the way they'd come. Once they'd freed themselves of the sewers, re-entering a street's back alley through a manhole, they found they were not alone. The one eyed appraiser stood, leaning against a nearby barrel. He nodded at Aldo, the two men flanking him from the shadows, two different men then the ones who stood behind him before, took position at the appraiser's sides.
"What's going on?" Aldo asked, after he helped Malcolm and Bethany up onto the street.
"Change of plans." The appraiser said, snapping his fingers, and two more men, leather garbed rogues, appeared from the shadows. "It was no longer safe. We moved the two clients to the hideout."
Aldo's brow pinched, but he nodded at the appraiser, before turning a tight smile to Bethany. "Just hasn't been your day." He offered apologetically.
Malcolm and Bethany were led through the back alleys and down into the slums. Eventually the party no longer kept to the shadows, instead walking openly in the streets. Bethany watched as the beggars and poor turned their eyes down as they passed. The guild's intimidation caused her to quirk a brow as an old woman lifted a scarf to cover her face as she pretended to find the ground fascinating. She wasn't unfamiliar with such acts. Actually, it was very familiar to how people treated her in Tevinter. Fear caused them to cast their eyes downward.
Turning into a decrepit building, Bethany was lead with her father past a broken down doorway and into the living quarters of an old woman. She fussed when they entered, cursing something in Antivan, and gestured to the back door. Aldo offered the older woman a kind word, and a kiss on the cheek as they passed. Out the back they went,through a weeded garden and entered into a storage shed. Bethany wasn't surprised when one of the rogues lifted up a rug and opened a trap door.
"Is everything here under trap doors and buried underground?" Bethany huffed as the appraiser pointed for her to head down.
"Only things worth hiding." The older man smiled, and Bethany rolled her eyes as she entered to hole. She was surprised when she hit a landing that overlooked an expansive underground cave. It may have once been a cave, but now it was a well acquainted room with carved walls that hung with fabrics and chandeliers. There were two men sitting on the landing behind her, hands on blades that fell when they saw the one eyed appraiser enter behind her. Bethany turned back away from the guards, back to the sight below. The room was filled with people. At the far side of the room was a bar. People were drinking, smoking, and a fine tune was drifting from a far corner. Doors were on the far side of each room, indicating to her that there was more to this area then even the bar represented.
Aldo took her by the arm, gently offering her a smile as he led her down the stairs and into the throng of milling rogues and scoundrels. A few catcalls, and grabbing hands earned a glare from Bethany, and a swatting hand and admonishment from Aldo. Malcolm grabbed the hand of one man trying to coup a feel, but one did make it though.
One hand reached its target, slapping Bethany hard across her ass, and earned a laugh from the table where the man was seated. The uproar stopped when the offending man's wrist was grasped firmly in the one eyed rogue's gloved hand. The silence that fell over the room was intense as everyone turned to look as the appraiser, slowly turned his head, as though he were looking each of the men in the room in the eye. He finally looked down at the person who was attached to the wrist he held in his grasp. He offered the petrified man a small, consoling smile, just before he snapped the man's wrist.
The popping, and cracking sound, followed by the muffled scream of pain earned not a single surprised, or outraged response from the room. Bethany watched as the appraiser dropped the offending limb, tilting his head as he gestured to the cringing man who cradled it against his chest.He said nothing, but the other men from the table rose, pulling the man to his feet and leading him back toward the landing they'd just entered from.
They we lead out of the bar, into a back room. Several men stood up as they entered. The appraiser waved them down, all but one, whom he gestured to follow. They were taken through a hallway into another backroom. This room was covered with heavy tapestries, bookshelves that lined the wall, and thick rugs that lay across the carved stone floor.
"Where's my sister?" Bethany asked, as the appraiser gestured to the chairs that were set in front of the desk. Malcolm and Bethany took a hesitant seat. Bethany waited for the appraiser to take the seat at the end of the desk. However, the man did only circle around the desk, he went to a tapestry in the back of the room. Lifting the fabric's edge he knocked upon what sounded to be wood on the other side. A few moments later a lean man with black hair, pale skin, and a scar cross his nose that extended just under his eye and over to his ear, entered into the room. He glanced at Bethany and Malcolm, then back to the one eyed thief. Muttering something under his breath before he entered into the room, he came up to the desk, throwing himself down tiredly into the chair. His hand reached up, propped upon the armrests as he laid long, pale fingers across his brow.
"My man says you are valuable." The dark haired leathered man said, pinching a finger across the bridge of his nose.
"Where is my sister?" Bethany demanded of the man, whom she assumed to be their guild leader. She growled low in her throat at the dely. "Where is Marian?"
"Gone." The dark haired man said, waving a hand dismissively at the question. Bethany stood up, only to be shoved down, a heavy hand upon her shoulder. Malcolm rose, and this time a blade appeared under Bethany's throat. The man holding her down sent a meaningful look to Malcolm.
"They're twitchy." The guild leader said, lolling his head tiredly to the side as he looked to Malcolm. "Don't bother trying to cast. There are wards all about this place." The rather bored sounding rouge gestured upon along the walls that were covered with thick fabrics and tapestries. "You see, we have ourselves a bit of a problem," He continued on when Malcolm settled back into his seat. "Your man deviated from our plan."
"What?" Malcolm asked, frowning.
"You're man, your friend, has broken our trust within the Templar Order," Their leader said.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Killing the Knight-Commander!" The tired rogue snapped, anger drawing out more energy then they'd seen him display since they'd entered the room. Eventually he breathed out, relaxing back into his chair as he sent a pale hand to rubbing his finger across his eyes, trying to push away what appeared to be a headache. "We never agreed to you killing the head of the Templars. Now," The rogue drawled, shrugging his arms up in the air, "all of our well built contacts with the Templars will have gone sour. That was allot of time, and money, you have cost us."
"We haven't done anything!" Bethany snapped.
"Your friend did." The appraiser said, moving to stand close beside the dark haired rogue who sat behind the desk evaluating them. "His only purpose in going in was to aid in getting the captives out." The appraiser said as he leaned in to speak to the ever tired looking rogue who didn't seem to register what was being said. That, or he simple didn't care.
"Any word on if he's been discovered?" Dark haired rogue asked as he turned his pale blue eyes up to the appraiser who shook his head. "Well, you better find him. I'd rather like to meet the man." The guild leader rubbed a long finger under his chin, before steepling the long appendages under his jaw in thought. "Point of fact is simple; you owe us." He directed his gaze from Bethany to Malcolm. "Fortunately for you, we may be able to recover our losses." The guild master reached onto his desk, tossing a couple pages across the table. Malcolm caught the pages, sparing a look down to see the sketched face of his eldest daughter staring back at him.
"What is it?" Bethany asked, craning to see what had caused the horrified look to cross her father's face. Perched under his fingers were two bounty flyers depicting the faces and descriptions of Marian and Fenris. The sum of the reward made Bethany's jaw drop.
"No!" Bethany struggled to stand, but the goon behind her that had held her down slapped her across the face.
"Keep your hands off her!" Malcolm stood up, trying to pull energy into his hand. The wards about the room grew bright and the energy flowed away from Malcolm. Two of the six that had followed them into the room moved against Malcolm, punching him across the jaw and dropping him to the ground.
"Stop it!" Bethany pleaded, struggling against the man who pushed her down into the chair once more. She turned her head to find Aldo at the back of the room, head down and offering no help.
"Yes, please, stop!" The guild leader sighed, annoyed as he waved a dismissively gesture to the guards, causing the men to release their hold and back away once more. Bethany was by her father's side instantly, cradling his head against her lap. He was still injured from the torture, and he moaned softly though he could not open his eyes.
"I could earn a good bit of money off him too." The dark haired, pale rogue nodded at Malcolm. "I'm sure the Templars would offer a hefty reward for him. Lucky for you, if the trade goes through with those two, I won't need to do that." He stood, his long legs striding around the desk as he leaned his back against it, crossing his arms as he looked down at the pair with a calculating stare that chilled Bethany's core. "I understand this will not ingratiate you with us. I don't expect that. However, I expect you to understand the consequences of what has happened. Your party has implicated our guild in an assassination. Lazlo here," He gestured to the appraiser, "thinks I should slaughter the rogue perpetrator to set an example, and hand your father over right off. You, well, there are many things that could be done with you."
"I won't let you touch him," Bethany breathed, but her threat was hallow as the wards drew in light once more.
"Calm yourself. I have no intention of doing any of that. In fact, long as the bounty clears, we'll let you go. Maker, we'd even point you in the direction needed to go after them, but not until we've been able to recover from the damages you've caused." The dark haired rogue, turned to look at the appraiser who cleared his throat. Lazlo drew out the bracers Marian had traded from the satchel. He tossed them upon the desk, earning a half hearted humph from the guild master. "Given the situation, I'm sure you can understand why we'll be requesting your cooperation in staying here. For our own protection, you will be kept to locked quarters."
(xZx)
Whisper made his way back to the inn, under the cover of darkness. He didn't dare take to the streets, or the sewers, until the sun had once more faded from the sky. He had spent the day holding up near the shore, hiding pinched between sharp rocks before he could swim back through the mote. His arms and legs were stiff even as he moved. He'd been out of practice for too long.
Lifting the trap door, Whisper descended into the hideaway. He stopped short, when the smell of blood manage to overtake his senses. Silently, the rogue's boot touched down to the floor, careful to avoid the pool of blood that lay there. One, two, dead. They were torn apart. One had his chest ripped open, and it wasn't very far away that Whisper saw the man's heart. He remembered rumors that the Magister's watch dog had been trained to rip out hearts. He searched the room, but found no trace of two, nor any sign of Aldo, the one-eyed thief, Malcolm, or Bethany.
Pulling down his mask, the half-elf kneeled down to the ground, finding scuffs and claw marks against the floor. He recognized those marks as the same that were against the ship's haul. The slave, Fenris, had put up a good fight. There were drag marks through the blood. Two distinct patterns. There was no trace of One-Arm or Bethany, but then again he wasn't an expert tracker. A gasp over his shoulder, and Whisper whipped around, a blade in his hand and poised under a throat faster than the small figure had thought to flee.
"P-p-please!" Nadine, the gasped. The serving girl was pushed into the ladder, a hand going behind her head to expose her throat.
"Where are they?!" Whisper hissed, yanking on the girl's braided hair when she stared blankly at him.
"I-I donno! I was just coming to see if any were hungry. I've been inside, all day." Big, blue eyes watered at the pain and the fear the half-elf was bringing upon her. "Please, Serrah, I do not know where they are!" Whisper pulled back the blade slightly, but did not release his hold.
"Did the others return? The younger girl, Bethany Hawke, did you see her? Her, or her father."
"No. No one, Serrah. I've seen no one!" The girl's face was streaming with tears as Whisper considered her for a moment. He believed her, but that didn't solve his problem. He knew that left only one other place to find his answers.
"Where can I find this guild?"
(xZx)
Marian awoke to an awful pain. She gasped, coughing violently. She turned on her side, a heavy clinking of metal ringing against her ears. She blinked several times, trying to clear away the drunken fog from her mind. Everything was blurry, and she had to force herself to focus though it. This is what you get when you hire thieves, she supposed.
"You're awake."
Marian couldn't help the smile that pulled on her split lip when she heard that familiar voice.
"They took you too?" She asked, shaking her head back and forth as she attempted to clear the drug from her mind. The action did nothing to help, only making her dizzier. This was become ridiculous. She pulled at her wrists, and the familiar feel of chains weighing her down registered through the drug-induced fog. Marian groaned, shuffling until she was seated in her cage with the cold iron pressed against her back. "You could have gotten away," Marian breathed out pressing her hands against her face. He didn't respond, and Marian dared to open her eyes.
They were in chained up in hanging cages, strung across a beam that was fashioned over a caged wagon used for transporting bounties and criminals. There was a driver of the wagon, and at best she could tell six other well armored men rode about them as the wagon doddered near a river bank. "Only six," Marian murmured, tilting her head as one of the men rode near, giving her a horrid sneer that she gladly returned.
"There are four more," Fenris returned, gesturing to the road ahead. "Scouting the path." Marian whistled trying to give him a grin.
"Ten men? You'd think they're afraid of lil' ol' us," Marian chuckled. Fenris offered her a halfhearted smile, but he couldn't hold it. They rode, rocked, in silence a little longer, Marian watching the light that glistened off the stream. The sun was setting, the light shimmering off the blue. "How long have I been out?" Marian asked, earning a shake of Fenris' head.
"You've been out for the day," Fenris said, his green eyes closing as one of the men rode his horse on another lap around the wagon. "They're nervous. They've been making sure we don't get into trouble."
"This will be a very long trip to Tevinter," Marian noted, watching the way the sun fell. "We're heading west. They're taking us further into Antiva."
"Yes, and the river is our companion," Fenris acknowledge, nodding over his shoulder.
"It would have been faster to have taken a ship!" Marian called out to the men who were making wide birth about their cage.
"Ha! Truly we would be daft to take a mage aboard a ship. Even one so well ensconced in wards," The driver called back as the wagon slid over another bump in the road. "Can't sink us on land," The driver jovially smiled as he patted the wagon. "Helps to have an iron transport too. Don't think about casting fire, even if you mange to must it up. Only end up heating up your own cages. Know how you mages love your fireballs."
"Can you truly not cast?" Fenris asked after he watched Marian hold out her palm before her face. There was a flicker of blue, but it sputtered and died away. She swallowed, suddenly feeling very naked and pulled her robes about her legs and wrapped her arms around her knees. Shaking her head, she gave him a curious look.
"You...?"
One of the men circling them laughed, slapping a crop against Fenris' cage.
"Try anything, go on." The man jeered, smiling. "You're barely worth more dead than alive."
"Leave him alone!" Marian snapped, gripping hold of the bars and trying to pull any magic she could. It was feint, and other then tingling the hairs upon her neck, she felt little effect.
"Hey, now, no need to have such an ugly face." One of the other riders drew near, taking part in the conversation. "You could be so lovely." The man smiled down at Marian, chuckling as he licked his lips.
"Dante." The driver called over his shoulder, shooting the rider a glare. "We need her alive."
"I wasn't planning on it being any other way." Dante said, giving a broad grin.
"You want to risk this bounty so you can get your rocks off?" The driver snapped, glaring death back at the man. "You have any idea what he'll do to you if this doesn't go down right?" The veiled threat was enough to get Dante to drop his grin, dip his head, and move away from Marian's hanging cage.
(xZx)
Bethany paced back and forth across the floor of their new 'quarters'. She was biting her nails when she heard the lock of the door tumble. She moved to her father's side, who had laid down upon the small bunk in the room. She'd been allowed to feed him poultices, though she hadn't been allowed to cast. It appeared the whole of their operation laid on top magic eating wards similar to design of those she'd seen used in the Tevinter arena. These were a different, bastardized version.
When the door opened though, she didn't expect to see the rogue that entered. Whisper came in, and quickly closed the door behind himself. Bethany gasped, rushing to his side and came up just sort of embracing the half-elf.
"You're alive? What happened, what are you doing here?" Bethany fired off a litany of questions. She paused, taking in the blood that covered the rogues gloves and boots. "Are you hurt?!" Bethany checked him over with a cursorily inspection. She stopped when she saw no obvious wounds to account for the blood. "Redder?" Bethany asked, and she knew the answer the moment she saw the rogue's eyes squint, his exposed face twisting in pain.
"We need to get you out of here." Whisper said, shaking his head before going to inspect Malcolm. "He's asleep."
"I've given him poultices. This place- I can't cast." Bethany sighed, pushing a hand through her hair. "They've taken them. My sister and Fenris. They've sold them for bounties to Tevinter." Bethany hiccupped, her breath hitching as the strain laying out the truth of their predicament made it all the more real. "They said they had to, because, because we ruined their contacts with the Templars. They said we killed the Knight-Commander. That you, you killed him. Why did you do it?!" Bethany had gone from sad to irate, accusations flying at Whisper who bore her anger as he turned to face the angry mage. Bethany shoved him, pushing him back from her father, tears trailing down her face.
"I killed him, and I would do it again, Maker as my witness, if he could be brought back from the dead for such a pleasure." Whisper hissed, the chill of his words shooting an unknown fear through Bethany.
"Such fine words." Came a voice, and from seemingly out of nowhere. The dark haired, pale guild master stepped out from behind a tapestry, his long fingers trailing the fabric as though he somehow found it interesting. "You cost me a lot of time and money." The man turned his steely blue eyes upon Whisper. "But, look where we are now? I'll make up for what you cost me, soon I secure that bounty, and the excitement of the fear our guild now inspires has driven up recruitment prospects. Everyone wants the guild that could stealth into a place as secure as the tower, and take out the Knight-Commander. Course, some think it was the Crows." He turned a questioning look up to Whisper. "Not a Crow then."
"Release them." Whisper said, gesturing to Malcolm and Bethany. "They have nothing to do with this."
"They do have something to do with this." The guild master said, giving a mild shrug as he crossing his arms about his chest. "They're my security, until I get that Tevinter bounty. Once it's secured, they're free to go. Maker, I'll even put them in the direction we took their companions. Until the bounty is claimed, I'll not risk letting them go. Anything falls through, I can still hand over this one," He gestured to the unconscious Malcolm, "and as for her~" The guild master stopped his advance into the room when Whisper pulled Bethany behind him. "Yes, I thought so." The rogue chuckled.
"Now you, on the other hand. You are truly something special," The guild master ducked his head of black hair, bending in a small bow. "From the cells, to the Knight-Commander's personal quarters without alerting one guard? I know you did not know the layout of the tower, because you were only shown the map of the cells. What you did, was awe inspiring."
"Thanks for the compliment." Whisper ground out, earning a curious brow from the man who leaned in to better hear the other rogue.
"Wasn't a compliment, just an observation." He said. His eyes lit up with realization. Faster than Bethany could see, the guild master had pulled down Whisper's mask, and Whisper in kind had drawn his blade, but the unarmed, black haired rogue had caught the half-elf by the wrist. Pushing a finger into a pressure point caused Whisper to drop his dagger. The blade clattered to the ground between them.
"And there you are."
"Let them go." Whisper hissed as the two remained frozen in their stance.
"What have I done to receive so many gifts this day?" The guild master asked, his brow quirking up as a genuinely broad smile pulled at his lips wide.
TBC~
Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all of its character's and places are property of BioWare and the respective copyright holders. OC(s) Include Artamus Dolan, Vivianna, Ophelia, Redder, Whisper (other random people who appear in the background) and (sorta) Anitra.
Much thanks again to Beta Dark ring of hope!
Author's note: Much faster update. Hopefully if I'm caught up on my work load I'll have another chapter up soon. It was pointed out that not much FenrisxMarian, and I admit they have taken a back seat for the last few chapters. Couldn't be avoided since everyone is getting in between them. However, I think you will find the next chapter couple of chapters will be very heavy Fenris and Hawke laden.
I'm glad to see people liked Redder, because I really enjoyed him too. He was never suppose to have made it out of Tevinter originally, but he was too much fun. I disliked killing him, and I'm not done with his character yet (don't think he'll be coming back to life, however, he is quiet dead).
