The Dragon Age series belongs to Bioware and Electronic Arts.
Jarak did nothing to explain the situation in which Rhyann was needed. The only elaboration that was given was one that was meant to chide Alistair when he rose from his seat in an effort to come and investigate as well. To keep his nose out of things, Jarak threatened with telling Eamon that the man was currently hiding from his duties in order to play cards. This quelled any further attempts from the King to come along. It was pitiful to witness him sitting there, back slumped against his chair in a defeated manner as his friend pulled the elf out of the room in a speed that didn't seem possible. Still, there was nothing that the girl could do.
They proceeded with a sense of urgency. Jarak had Rhyann by the wrist, and was dragging her behind him much like a child would a toy. When they rounded corners, which the man did so sharply, the elf was afraid that he would send her smashing into one of the walls. He hadn't, which warranted a silent prayer of thanks every time she cleared one safely.
Soon, they were descending into the bowels of the palace. Servants did not come here to clean often, observed the young woman as she sped passed a crate covered in a fine layer of dust. And, she imagined it was with good reason. Where the rest of the castle was plain, but homey, a sense of foreboding sat in the pit of her stomach as soon as they hit the basement. In truth, it was nothing unlike every other basement she had seen. Nonetheless, goosebumps rose up upon Rhyann's arms in anticipation of something both sinister and terrible in equal measures.
Nothing came out to get her, however. That was, unless she was keen on mentioning several plump rats that were fighting over a scrap of food they must have purloined from the kitchens. In fact, everything was eerily quiet until they reached an odd section that was lit with a singular torch. Sophie and Leliana were waiting patiently there, both of them concealed behind a large crate that looked to be storing the banners that were usually hung around the palace during times of celebration. Sophie had a parcel of cloth in her arms and was currently holding it upon her chest when they approached.
"Here, I brought her." Jarak announced breathlessly, pushing Rhyann out to the forefront for the women to observe more clearly.
Once Jarak released his iron grip on her arm, the elf tested the joint that connected her shoulder to the limb as a means to make sure it still worked. Like clockwork, the joint rotated, but not without the dull ache that came from being dragged along.
"Will someone please tell me what is happening?"
Jarak motioned towards the women for an explanation.
Leliana sighed. Rhyann had seen neither hide nor hair of the woman since their first day coming to the city, but already, she noticed a visible difference in her appearance. She wore dark clothing, probably to allow concealed movements in the shadows, and she looked tired. Maybe 'frustrated' was a better way of putting things.
"We think we've found a lead in our investigation." Said Leliana. She was blunt and precise, wanting to proceed as quickly as possible. "But, we've hit a snag."
"What sort of 'snag'?" Questioned the young elf. While she could figure the direction that this conversation was going, she wanted to be sure.
"The sort that involves your help." Leliana took a step closer. They were in an isolated area of the castle, one that saw very little traffic, so Rhyann couldn't figure why she eased up. Perhaps it was to convey the importance of their mission. Either way, it had the girl worried. "We've heard some…whisperings that someone in the palace may be concealing information that is vital to our investigation; documents and letters, stored in a private place where prying eyes wouldn't normally look. I have narrowed it down to the bed chambers of someone who lives here in the palace, but the problem is, the room is locked at all times, and only three keys to that particular door exist—the master key, the key the occupant uses, and the key the servants use when they come in for cleaning."
Rhyann gulped hard. She feared that they would be asking her to retrieve the key, a task that was much better suited to one of them. She was no sneak thief. Any attempts that she could make and being so would end in failure. "I'm guessing that you want me to find one of these keys so that you can get in."
"No." Leliana searched around in her garments briefly before producing a wrought iron key. "Zevran managed to seduce the key out of the servant who normally keeps it. We only have access to it for today, however. He promised that he would return it before sundown." The red haired woman now made an effort to give the key to Rhyann. At first, the elf fumbled with the metal object, not liking the way it felt in her hands. "We need you to go into the chambers and retrieve the documents mentioned."
Nervously, Rhyann wrung her hands around the key. She had known the second that Jarak had come in to bring her to them that they would be requesting her to do something highly unpleasant, something that would land her in a heap of hot water if caught. Such was her lot in life, to find herself in bad situations that only seemed to get worse.
And yet, despite the potential of punishment, Rhyann knew that she had to play her part, even if she still doubted that she would be the best candidate for this job. Lyna and Alistair depended on it. She stood a little taller and stopped fussing with the key. Whatever this responsibility was, she was ready to accept it. "How will I know what I'm looking for? I'm in the dark about everything you've been investigating up until this point."
Sophie now came forth. Now that she had stepped into the torchlight, Rhyann could see that the cloth she was concealing was in reality, clothing. From the looks of it, a simple peasant dress and a sort of shawl. "We're not quite sure what to find there either, though Zevran is sure that his previous employers—the Antivan Crows might be involved. Look for any correspondence that could implicate them as potential assassins for hire."
"The Antivan Crows. Got it. Anything else?"
"Yes." Sophie handed Rhyann the bundle of clothes she was holding. "You'll need to put these on. We don't want anyone to grow suspicious of a well-dressed elf poking around peoples' private chambers. If you look like a servant, no one will bat an eyelash at you."
Rhyann retreated to a more secluded part of the basement, one that afforded her a bit of privacy for changing. She dressed in haste, tucking the key into a pocket of the dress before returning. When she did, however, both women looked at her critically. Rhyann couldn't fathom why. She was wearing the clothes they gave her.
"Is there a problem?" She asked, self-consciously tugging at the sleeves of her garment.
Leliana didn't bother with a verbal response. She approached quickly, removing the shawl from the elf's shoulders and proceeding to use it as a hair wrap in order to conceal the girl's hair. Rhyann grew dizzy trying to focus on how she wove the fabric around her head and then fastened it by tucking the loose lengths into other bits of it. The added weight of it made her feel as though she would topple over as well.
"You are young and already have white hair. We do not need you sticking out from a crowd."
"I understand." Admittedly, Rhyann would have never thought to use the shawl like that. Women of Ferelden didn't often tie their hair up in such a fashion. None that she had ever seen, at least. "Will you be showing me to the chambers I am to investigate, now?"
"I will be taking you there." Hummed Jarak. He had remained silent this whole time, so silent in fast that Rhyann had forgotten he was present. "You will need to follow several feet behind me, as to not arouse suspicion. When we've arrived, I will flick my nose with my right ring finger to alert you. Once you're inside, I will be nearby to make sure no one comes in while you're in there."
"Okay." Nerves bubbled up in Rhyann's stomach. She pushed them down, reminding herself that this was for two people she cared about. This solemn knowledge was enough to stop her palms from sweating and her body from quivering uncontrollably. "I think I'm ready to go."
"Remember," Added Sophie, "Antivan Crows."
Jarak proceeded ahead of Rhyann, just as he said he would. The man went on at a brisk pace, but slow enough still that she did not lose him when he rounded a corner. Once or twice, he would look back, just to make sure that she was still following. And, she was, though slowly. Occasionally, they would pass a servant or someone else who had business in the palace. Jarak seemed a common fixture in these parts, so he was regarded with little interest. Rhyann, however, she trained her gaze on her feet and did her best from making it hard for anyone to get a good look at her face. It was a little awkward, and every time she did so, she feared that she had lost the man. Sure enough, however, he was easing his way along several feet before her, having noticed the difficulty she had been having.
It wasn't long before the wing they were in started to resemble what Rhyann thought a royal palace would look like. Granted, it was still very simple and had that rustic touch that the elf had come to expect. The furniture was of high quality and polished immaculately. Though she didn't dare to get close enough to see for fear of losing Jarak, she was sure that she would be able to see her face in one of the end tables. Likewise, it was warmer and brighter here. Rhyann had to assume that these were the main living quarters for the royal family.
But, she was granted no time to explore.
Jarak flicked his nose right outside a room to his left. A breath hitched in Rhyann's throat. This was real, and there was no backing out now. She waited for him to make his way further down the hallway before fishing out the key and sinking it into the lock. With a flick of her wrist, the door was opened with no resistance. Before attention was drawn to herself, Rhyann rushed inside, careful to shut the door behind her.
The room Rhyann found herself in was definitely befitting royalty. It was a large room, and warm from the fire roaring in the fireplace. Neatly stacked beside it was a pile of freshly-chopped wood. Pine, she figured, based on the woodsy scent in the room. Everything was neatly organized, and from the looks of it, a woman lived here, judging by the flowers that must've been imported from a warmer country. There was a small seating area with a couch and a low table. A lone book sat upon there. Against the far wall sat a small vanity with various beauty provisions, as well as a few loose pieces of parchment. The chair had been pulled out, like someone had been sitting there recently. The largest pieces of furniture in the room, however, was a four-poster bed wearing a cozy spread in green and an armoire that could easily conceal a grown man. Those were of little interest to Rhyann, however.
Ignoring all other distractions, Rhyann rushed over to the vanity. She had noticed several papers lying there and wanted to investigate. The words were flowery, and troublesome for her, given the state of her reading ability, but she managed to make out that they weren't assassination requests. From the looks of it, they were personal letters, from someone named Esmerelle. In her haste, the girl opened a drawer, only to find a glass bottle of perfume, and a tin of something that she didn't dare open.
Just then, there was a sound outside, the sort that sounded like company would soon be joining her. Rhyann panicked. She slid the drawer closed, careful not to make a noise in the process. There were only precious seconds to find somewhere to hide. Beads of sweat formed on her face as she scanned the room. Instantly, she thought of the bed. It sat so low to the ground that it would be impossible for her to slide underneath, however. The only other option was the armoire. Moving faster than she had in her entire life, the young elf climbed inside it and snapped it shut, just in time for her to hear the door open.
All Rhyann could hear was footsteps. A woman's, one who wore heels instead of the clunky boots most people would choose this time of year. Everything was dark in the armoire, though from the feel and shape of the garments hanging in there, they were dresses—definitely a woman's. Rhyann could make out as the presumed woman maneuvered around the room. All the while, the young girl was frozen with fear. She was terrified to even breathe, lest she be found out. Her heart pounded so rapidly and so loudly that she was sure that the other person in the room must've heard her.
They didn't.
Whomever occupied the room as well sat at the vanity. There wasn't even a crack between the two doors of the vanity, so Rhyann couldn't make out what they were doing. However, she assumed they were freshening up. The deafening silence continued on for what felt like an eternity, Rhyann careful not to make a solitary sound the entire time.
"Maker's breath." The presumed woman cursed. Her voice was strangely familiar. "I've got a stain on my dress." Then, the woman rose and began to approach the armoire.
Panic didn't even begin to describe what Rhyann felt. She was trapped like a hunter's prey, shoved into an armoire with nowhere to go but out. As much as she tried to form a plan, she resigned to the fact that there was none. Those doors would open, and there she would be standing. Any connection she had to Alistair as his friend would probably be ignored due to her sneaking around his home. Someone might even peg her as an assassin, Maker forbid. Her heart leaped up into her throat, pounding madly the whole time. Every limb quivered with reckless abandon for what she wanted. There was no escape.
Like a gift from the Maker himself, there was a knock at the door. The woman left her previous task to answer it. Rhyann sighed out in relief, tension leaving her body for the time being.
"My lady, you have a guest waiting for you downstairs. They've only just arrived and wish to meet with you as soon as possible."
"Okay, I will go down there at once."
The door swung shut, the sound of the clicking of the locking mechanism followed. Rhyann waited a few breathless minutes in utter quiet before opening the doors to the armoire and heading out. Upon climbing out, something shifted inside the piece of furniture. Several bits of parchment fluttered down from an upper shelf, landing conveniently at the girl's feet. Rhyann picked them up and glossed them over. These were a little easier to read, but still trying on her abilities. Someone named Nuncio wrote these letters, and they spoke of an old contract that hadn't been fulfilled that would presently be honored. Regardless of only having been able to decipher a selection of the letters, the elf thought them suspicious and slipped them in her dress after shutting the armoire and leaving the room. After the scare she had with almost being caught, she was not about to continue poking around.
Down the hall, Jarak was watching the door like a hawk. His face was luminescent with a fine sheen of sweat. He was nervous. Rhyann exiting in one piece, however, calmed his tried expression considerably and gave him reason to approach without fear of being caught.
"Found anything?" He asked.
"Some documents. I'm not sure if they're of any use." Rhyann produced the parchment, as well as the key, and handed them over. "I was nearly caught in there, so I rushed my investigation after she left." It struck Rhyann then. Jarak had seen the person enter. He knew who it was. The curiosity was killing the elf. She had to know who they were investigating. "Can you tell me whose chambers those were? You seemed much better informed as to what is going on than I am."
The man ceased looking over the documents. Every muscle of his being stiffened, making him look little more than a statue. Her inquiry scared him far more than she assumed it would. Several seconds went by of him standing like this, eyes glassy and mouth slightly agape. Then, his composure returned. Jarak smoothed a hand over the crown of his head before clearing his throat anxiously. "I suppose I can tell you, just don't tell anyone."
Rhyann nodded and leaned in closer to receive the information.
"We're investigating the Queen."