Chapter 48: Promises
A few days after her return, Solona resumed her duties as leader of the city of chains.
The Viscountess dressed for court, the traditional black and gray robes of state, the seal of the city, and the black iron crown that defined her station as Viscountess.
Solona sighed heavily, her time in Rivain had been so nice, magical even, it had felt…it had felt like she had become herself again after playing a role she despised for so long, alas…that freedom was gone. It was time to resume the place her Father had left to her.
It was time to rule her city once more.
She returned to these symbols…reluctantly.
She slipped on the long black gloves and her signet ring, checking one last time if her long white hair was perfectly in place, held up in its tight bun.
She smiled into the mirror.
The perfect image of Kirkwall, the perfect Viscountess.
She sighed.
After five years of rule, she still felt like a fake.
A wistful smile came to her lips; she decided to be a bit…rebellious today.
She dipped into her jewelry box, and smiled at the item she withdrew.
She had received many gifts the day of her wedding. Ambassadors, Lords, and Merchants had showered her with false symbols of affection, some might have been genuine, but even those had been given with expectation of getting something out her and her new husband.
Prince Goran had gifted Sebastian with his Grandfather's bow that had been lost when the Flint Company men had slain his family. Goran had no talent for a bow himself, and had heard how close Sebastian had been with his grandfather.
Sebastian had embraced his younger cousin, he had been touched deeply by the gift, far more than he realized was possible.
It pleased Solona to see him so happy.
From Aedan and Marius she had received something most precious, but also something that had to be kept concealed. The two had spoken with the Ambassador from the tower of magi in Ferelden, and had fashioned at Lord Aedan's request a most kingly gift.
It was a staff; one of the finest white wood staff's that Solona had ever seen ensorcelled by a group of the finest enchanters in all of Thedas.
Marius, knowing that the sigil of their father had been a lion, had the staff topped with the sleek head of a lioness loving crafted in silverite. Its sapphire eyes would flash when a mage focused his or her power through it.
Solona had been pleased, at last she had a weapon that spoke to her, and what she was. Of course she would never be able to wield it for her people, not without revealing exactly what she was, she even had to keep it secret from her husband, lest he inquire why she needed such a thing.
Solona placed it lovingly in her training room, it would be here, and only here that she would be able to use it.
That knowledge saddened her.
Of all the gifts she had received only one intrigued her more than the staff. It had appeared among the many baubles offered from the merchants' guild, and at first glance she might have overlooked it except for one tiny detail.
It almost seemed to speak to her the first time she had seen it, the first time she held it in her hands, and in that moment she had to have it.
She knew that she would keep it close.
Solona smiled.
It was a locket, made of simple gold, but far more precious than most of the fine things she owned. The first time she had released the clasps she was surprised to see how much thought and care had gone into its creation.
Inside the tiny thing were images of her parents faces, loving etched with the skill of dwarven craftsmen. Even shrunk to such a small size, the designer had still managed to recreate the love her two parents had shared for each other and for her.
It was not simply a pretty bauble, but a work of art. She had asked around at the wedding feast which merchant had found such a…intriguing gift. Surprisingly, no one took credit for it, and the note that was included gave no clue either.
From one true ruler to another, may we both find our true destiny.
Such a cryptic little statement, but then again, some merchants did love such games. She suspected that one day the person that had gifted it to her would ask a favor in return.
She would have to give it serious thought for something so beautiful, regardless of where it had come from.
In the end she simply accepted it in the spirit that it was given.
She placed the small object around her neck and inside her robes, letting it brush against her bare skin, right over her heart.
She felt a slight tingle go through her, it reminded her of when Father had patted her head when she had still been small, a sense of warmth, happiness and safety.
She checked herself in the mirror one final time, making sure she was perfect, at least visually anyway.
Smiling slightly she left her apartment.
Her city awaited.
IOI
"Marlowe Dumar is dead. He chose to meet his end in fire rather than face the justice if our beloved city."
Solona addressed the royal court, Sebastian sat at her side, the Viscountess drew strength from his presence as she faced her nobles. News of Dumar's end had only just arrived. Two days ago, she had dispatched Aveline and her city guard to bring the man in alive to answer for his assault on her brother, and to hear whatever explanation he could offer for maiming an innocent sixteen year old boy.
She had been quite eager to hear those reasons.
Alas, that was not meant to be, Dumar must have gotten wind of their coming, and decided to avoid her justice.
The disgraced lord had decided to kill himself instead.
The Discovery of Dumar's location had been a bit of a shock to her. Her own agents had come up with nothing, and even Varric's many contacts could not hazard a guess to where the old man had gone. It was almost as if he had just disappeared. The Viscountess had started to believe the man had slipped the noose, when confirmation had finally come.
Confirmation from a most unlikely place to be sure.
IOI
The information had come to her from Serah Gaston Poole, Angelique's father. His contacts had managed to trace Dumar to a small hovel along the old Starkhaven road, a spice merchant that Poole dealt with had passed along how Dumar had thought to book passage on one of the man's ships out of Starkhaven and take shelter in the wilds of Nevarra.
He should have realized that House Amell would never allow that, an attack on one Amell was an attack on them all.
He would answer for what he had done.
The Viscountess had not hesitated, she had ordered that Aveline go and seize the former lord immediately. He would answer for what he had done to her poor brother.
Aveline had told no one where she was going, the Dumar's still had allies in Kirkwall and she had no desire to see them tip the bastard off.
The Kirkwall guard arrived just in time to surround the building. She could see movement inside, but not enough to be certain that it was Dumar.
The Guard Captain called to those inside to surrender or face the wrath of Kirkwall.
Everything fell silent, she was about to repeat her demand, when smoke began pouring out of the windows.
The hovel burst into flames.
Aveline and her men waited to see if anyone would emerge, but no one did, the guard stayed there until the fire burnt the hovel down, only then did they go in and inspect the ruins for the search of the criminal Marlowe Dumar.
They were not disappointed.
Marlowe Dumar was discovered near the hearth, though burned, his body was easily recognized, his features twisted in agony.
Aveline had shuddered, burning to death…a horrible way to die.
Among the bodies were two bodyguards and an elven servant. The guards still lay in the ruins of their cots; it appeared that the servant had slit their throats before burning himself and his master, likely at the lord's own orders.
Aveline shook her head.
It was clear what had happened here, almost too clear, to be honest. Dumar had killed himself and his men, it should have been case closed, but…
She did not like it. It was almost too perfect.
Something…it did not feel right.
She checked the hovel for almost an hour before finally calling it an eve. She paid special attention to the lord's body. She checked for any signs that he had died of anything else but fire.
She found no wounds, and nothing in the house suggested anything strange had happened, but…
She still did not like it.
Something stank, and she could not put her finger on it.
She could feel it in her gut.
She had reported this to Solona, who had consented to let her continue the investigation as she saw fit, but quietly. The nobles had to see that justice had been done in this case.
Aveline promised to be discreet, and report any findings that she could not account for.
The guard captain promised the Viscountess that she would follow this to the end.
They would know the truth.
IOI
For his service in this matter, Gaston Poole was to be greatly rewarded.
Solona not only named the man to the royal court, but also named his lord of all of House Dumar's former holdings being that the family had died with no heirs. It was a meager lot, but enough to ensure the man and his daughter a place in the nobility.
Angelique Poole beamed at her lover, who returned her smile with a quiet grace.
Daylen stepped forward, he asked his sister for permission to speak, which she granted.
The Lord Hand stepped forward, a smile on his face.
He opened his cloak, revealing his ruined arm. Many cringed, but Daylen carried the wound like a badge of honor.
"I am most pleased that justice has been served in this matter," the lord hand began, "And equally pleased that so righteous a family may take their rightful place among the royal court of Kirkwall."
Daylen embraced his future father in law.
"I hope you will continue to serve as one of my advisors Lord Poole," Daylen exclaimed, "and long may you serve the rightful ruler of Kirkwall."
"Long may I serve House Amell, Lord Daylen," the old man agreed.
The two men grinned like old friends, pleased with their success.
It was only then that Daylen turned to Angelique and bade his fiancée rise.
She took her place at his side.
Again the Lord Hand addressed the court.
"My Lords and Ladies," he began, "I come before you on this day of days to share most wonderful news. From the pain born of this outrage has come not only greater strength, but love as well."
He smiled and turned to address his sister.
"Your Excellency, sister," he said dropping to one knee, "I come before you not only as your Hand, but loves eager and willing slave."
He smiled warmly at Angelique, who returned it.
"I ask of you sister, no, I beg of you, grant me your blessing so that I might bring this fine young woman into our house, not simply as an ally, but as wife to me and sister to you."
Solona shifted in her seat, many noble ladies twittered for her to accept her brother's eager plea, to grant Angelique a place in House Amell.
She looked at Sebastian who gave her a knowing look.
Daylen was not the type of young man to take no for an answer. She might as well make the best of this and welcome the girl into their house.
Solona sighed.
Her little brother did not play fair.
She smiled at Angelique.
"In the name of House Amell," she said, "I welcome you sister into our house, may you and my brother know only a lifetime of happiness."
With a hearty laugh Daylen swept Angelique into his arms, kissing her deeply.
The court raised their voices in celebration of the Lord Hand's impending wedding.
It was to be a happy occasion to be sure.
From their places in the court Ladies Revka and Leandra sobbed, happy for the youngest Amell's good fortune.
It seemed that the future of their noble house was assured, not just with Solona, but with Daylen's wedding as well.
The future for House Amell looked bright…
…extremely bright indeed.
IOI
The happy display was not shared by all however.
Fenris watched from his place with the other bodyguards, he watched his lord take his love as his future bride formerly before the court.
Yet, he was not pleased, no.
The elf was concerned.
Fenris was no fool and he certainly was not blind. He had hoped that Daylen's infatuation with the Poole girl was just a passing fancy, that his heart would turn to a more…appropriate match.
Sadly, that had not happened, and Fenris worried about his friend's future.
Power corrupts; Fenris knew that very well, he had seen it in his former master, and in almost every other Magister in Tevinter.
He had promised Solona that he would protect her brother, and insure his protection if she ever faltered and fell from grace.
Fenris shifted uncomfortably.
He knew how he should act if Solona fell, but…but…
What was he to do if Lord Daylen…?
No, he refused to believe it, Daylen was ambitious, but he was no mage, power would not corrupt him like it did…
Fenris felt an icy chill go down his spine.
His markings flared slightly, his eyes narrowed in hate.
"Leave me be witch!" he spat.
The shadows behind him parted, Neria stepped out of them, no longer did the elf dress like a handmaiden, Daylen had gifted her with red robes of the finest Orlesian silk. Robes the color of her fiery hair…
…Robes the color of fresh blood.
The girl laughed.
"Try to look more pleased Fenris," she smirked, "Our lord is to be married; it is a happy time for us all."
She leaned in and ran her finger seductively down his breast plate.
She smiled hungrily at him.
"Why should the humans have all the fun," she purred.
Fenris grabbed her hand and removed it.
He glared at the girl.
"I doubt that Lord Daylen would approve," he said, "Nobles are so touchy about their mistresses."
She pouted.
"Lord Daylen does not own me," she reminded him, "I suspect that he and my lady will find their own fun this evening. Why should we not find our own?"
Fenris shook his head.
"Turn off the charm," he said, "I'm immune."
Her smile turned hard, her eyes flashed with anger at his rejection.
"Just admit it," she purred, "You want me."
Fenris smirked.
"If I wanted your heart little one," he said, "I would reach into your chest and take it."
His markings began to glow.
"Remember that," he hissed.
Neria backed away quickly, fear shone in her eyes.
Fenris gave her a dangerous look.
"Run back to our Lord's bed little one, you will find no comfort in mine."
She sneered at Fenris. Clearly she did not take rejection well.
"You will regret turning me down one day," she promised, "One day I will have you fetching balls like a trained pooch little wolf."
Little Wolf?
Fenris gave her a deadly stare, his hand reached for his sword.
"Call me that again witch, and you will have an unfortunate accident, your mistress will be greatly saddened I'm sure."
The two glared at each other, the air tensed between them.
Neria laughed.
"Think about my offer," she said, "I can be quite pleasant when want to be. Lady Marjolaine trained me quite well in how to please a man."
"I'm sure she did," he said flatly, "Be gone."
The blood mage sauntered away, swaying her hips seductively.
Fenris did not even glance her way. Neria held no attraction for him.
He knew how to avoid evil, even in its most beautiful of forms.
His eyes fell on Lord Daylen, a worried look on his face.
Daylen, his friend, and lord, the man he had sworn to protect, and he would.
…Even if it was from himself.
