9:34 – Kirkwall – Hightown, Docks, and Chantry
Following the Qun
"Thank you for telling me."
"…You feeling okay, Seeker?"
"Oh, shut up and continue."
"That's more of what I'm used to."
When I got the personal letter from the Viscount asking me to come speak to him, I did so with barely a word to anyone. What was I supposed to do? Say 'no'? I had nothing to do anymore, and I didn't want to trouble anyone. The constant checking in during the previous days just made me feel guilty. Maybe if Bodhan could tell them I left, they'd stop worrying. I hated… something. I hated something about it. I didn't know what, but I did.
"You asked for me?" I began quietly when the Seneschal showed me into the Viscount's study. I was startled by how pale and drawn the old man looked. If he hadn't been moving, I'd guess he were dead. "What has happened?" Because it had to be something. Only a handful of people liked my company for anything but trouble.
"Yes," he murmured, slumping briefly over his desk before straightening. He looked as tired as I felt. "It's apparently not enough the Qunari define my political life, but also what little personal life I have." Hmm? "It's Saemus, Lady Hawke. The life you saved, he would no apparently squander by converting to the Qun." I guessed he was tired of everyone forcing their views on him. "He left for the Qunari compound while I was in a meeting." His hand brushed over a piece of paper. What little I could see of it was formal and short. "Please, can you speak with him?"
"Did anyone see him leave?"
"Oh, yes. He made no secret of his grand departure. It was just when my back was turned." His shoulders shook a little, but the face he showed was blank. "I'm sure he meant it as another of his statements. Everyone in Hightown probably knows at this point." Why did I have a bad feeling about this? "You've inspired him a bit and… honestly, it is not the action that bothers me so much as the timing. Things are…"
"Politically delicate?" I supplied. He sighed heavily and nodded. "Because it weakens how Kirkwall looks to outsiders."
"With trouble in Starkhaven over succession, the Marches look to Kirkwall for stability, and are not finding it." Why not Ostwick? Kirkwall was an explosion waiting to happen. "This only makes matters worse."
"Despite him being of age."
"I want him to find his way, and support his idealism, but not blindly. I want to talk to him about all of this, and see his side, and know he sees mine." He sighed again, hand going for the crown I half thought was welded onto his head. "At best, people will say my office is in Qunari hands. At worse, I lose my son." Ah. "Please…"
"This is going to end in some trouble, you know," I pointed out. "I can't exactly walk up to the compound and drag him out, no matter how much the Arishok likes me."
"Fitting, considering that's where all of this started." Well, he did have some bite to him. "Saemus has never been foolish. He will listen to reason. But you are the only one he is likely to listen to right now."
"You sure about that?"
"It is… a hope." He smiled wryly. "I'm still allowed that, at least."
Well, what could I say to that? "I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you. That's all I need."
It had been a long while since I'd been to the docks, and even longer since I had been into the Qunari Compound. On the surface, nothing had changed. I could feel the undercurrent of terrible rage under a calm façade, checked only by deep and controlled discipline. But there was something… deeper that made my magic scream, and my instincts primed for the attack.
None of it calmed as I was escorted to the Arishok, for once not sitting on his throne, but standing at the base of the steps. If anything, his cold, studying stare only increased these feelings. "Serah Hawke," he greeted. No more words, just letting me explain what I was doing here this time.
"I'm here about Saemus," I explained. For the first time, I truly noticed how large he was, and felt so indescribably small.
"Are you?" He looked up to the sky for a minute before returning his attention to me. "In four years, I have made no threats, yet fanatics have lined up to hate us simply because we exist." Okay? I knew this already. "Despite lies and fear, however, bas still beg me to let them come to the Qun, hungering for purpose. Saemus is one such convert. You will not deny him that."
"I'm not here to deny anyone anything." Head up, shoulders back, don't run. "I simply need to talk to him."
"For what? Political?" He scoffed. "Viddathari give up their lives for the certainty only Qunari know. In my eyes, he is no longer anyone's son, much less that fool of a Viscount." That wasn't the point. "The Ariqun and the Benhasserath might make use of such a connection, but I do not. It was his choice to be educated. He is not my prisoner."
"I have no idea why you're spouting all this. I came here because I just want to talk to him, and see if he's willing to talk to his father about all of this, because those two never even try to talk things through." I'd give anything to talk with Mother right now.
"Then ask the viscount why he would send you and a letter both, for he is not here." What. "He left long before you arrived." That wasn't…
"Who would…?" A name came immediately and I grit my teeth. If I was right, I was going to have a Mother to throttle. "I have to go. Saemus is in a lot of danger now."
"…There it is." Huh? "That fire of purpose. It only glowed before, but…" What was he talking about? Oh, forget it. I had to… "One warning for you."
"Yes?" I was turning away, heading down the steps to leave the compound. If I hurried, would I…?
"If yet another of mine has been threatened again, there is only one response." I froze and whirled. He was not threatening or intimidating as he stared back at me. "I have had cause for four years. I will not take more. I will be watching." Joy. "Panahedan, Hawke." That… was him dismissing me. Okay.
Time to run.
Even though the Chantry was, in theory, closed during the evening hours, the doors were always open. I crashed through them as I ran, spotting Saemus up on the speaker's platform where the Mothers and Clerics would preach, kneeling as if in prayer. That should've been the first warning sign, but I hoped it was just him in thought.
However, when I reached him and grabbed his shoulder, he was cold to the touch. No pulse. No breath. Dead, and had been so for some time. The blood staining his back was dried and crusted, creaking and cracking as his body flopped to the side like a broken rag doll. This was just sick.
"Did you have to arrange the body?" I wasn't sure why I spoke, but it just felt like it was a time to do so. The little yelp of surprise led my attention down below, and, unsurprisingly, I found Petrice. "The Chant speaks of honoring the dead, not forcing them into a show."
"Serah Hawke!" Petrice gasped, eyes wide in faked surprise. "Look at what you've done!" Oh, what was she trying to pull now? "To pounce upon the viscount's son, a repentant convert, in the chantry itself? A crime with no excuse! Your Qunari masters will finally answer."
"Are you seriously trying to pin this on me?" I sighed, slowly descending the stairs to meet her. "You do realize there are a host of witnesses who can testify I haven't been here since my mother's memorial service, right? Thousands of eyes watch my estate every day. I didn't leave until the Viscount's messenger came." I stood level with her and rolled my eyes. "Besides, what master? Everyone in Kirkwall knows I have no job." She glowered, but it was nothing. "You've been a horrible headache for me, and a thorn in the side for everyone else, but to outright kill someone is new for you."
"He deliberately denied the Maker! How many would follow if he went unpunished?"
"Zealots like you are the reason people turn away in the first place, you idiot." I resisted the urge to grab her by the collar and shake her. "This won't make them leave. We'll have a slaughter, on both sides."
"To die untested would be the real crime. People need the opportunity to defend faith!"
"Stand in their ashes when the fighting is over and ask them what good their faith was," I spat, tensing. I would not lose my temper here, no matter how well deserved it would be. "Nothing. Because why would the Maker look when we're slaughtering each other like beasts?"
"My, my, is it not a little late for a debate?" To my surprise, Elthina walked up, still fully dressed. "Althea, it has been a while since I last saw you," she greeted me gently, ignoring Petrice's wide eyed stared. "How are you faring?"
"D-don't ask her that, Your Grace!" Petrice snapped, eyes sparking like she thought she won. "She's a traitor attacking the very core of the Chantry! Defiling every step!" Someone was being melodramatic.
"Is that so?" Elthina smiled, shaking her head. "I'm not so sure. Althea has been doing the Maker's work far better than some of our own sisters or mothers. Donating to the poor, hiring those without work so they can feed themselves, accepting all without judgment…" Her eyes were warm as she studied me. "She is a testament to how we must truly act to further the Maker's will. Gentle and guiding support, not a bloody sword." I had no idea what she was talking about. I just… helped people. That's all.
"Forgive me, Elthina, but there has been a terrible crime here," I began softly, pointing up to her podium. "You must hear the truth of this."
"Don't you spout your Qunari filth," Petrice hissed. "This is a hand of the Divine!" Ugh, someone, shut her up.
"I have ears, Petrice." To my surprise, it was Elthina who rebuked her. "The Maker would have me use them," she stated, frowning at her subordinate. "Althea, what has happened?"
"Saemus is dead," I told her bluntly. She closed her eyes and slumped slightly. "Killed here in your name."
"I'm sure my name won't like that." That was… almost funny. "Petrice? What's your story?"
"He… he was a convert!" Petrice desperately declared. "He came here to repent and was murdered!"
"With a knife to the back, likely by you," I growled. "Trying to set more people against the Qunari in a pointless war."
"People are leaving to join them!"
"I wonder why, when they're killed for questioning."
"Correct," Elthina agreed, smiling at me. "We must pray for them like any other. If they choose to leave, then we must meditate and determine what is lacking about our institution that they must find comfort in another."
"But they deny the Maker!" Petrice tried to protest.
But Elthina cut her off with a stern look, turning to face her. "And you diminish him," she whispered. "Even as you claim His Side. Andraste didn't volunteer for the flame." She turned to me. "Althea, I ask you to bring this matter to the courts." What. "The Chantry respects the law, and so must see." Oh, sure, someone dies directly by her hand, instead of indirectly like it had been for four years, and now she gets punished.
"Grand… Cleric…?" Elthina ignored Petrice as she walked up, heading for the staircase. "Grand Cleric?" But Elthina continued to ignore her. "Grand Cleric!" Still receiving no answer, she looked down before snarling at me. "This is all your fault!"
"I've done nothing but oppose your wrongful actions," I whispered, suddenly quite tired. "The consequences are your doing, nothing more."
"You… you should just go join your mother!" she spat. I felt myself stiffen at the words. "Be a good little martyr, like you should have three years ago."
"Leave my mother out of your revolutions," I hissed, feeling my magic crackle under my skin. "And I'll never give you the pleasure of attending my funeral. I wish I thought to tell Elthina to keep you away from Mother's."
"Just die!"
"You first." No sooner had the words left my mouth did an arrow fly over my shoulder and thud into her chest. I blinked slowly, processing what had happened. Of course. Of course, I'd have good timing for that.
I turned to see who shot, and found a Qunari, carrying a bow. He aimed another arrow, and let it fly to thud cleanly into Petrice's skull. I watched him sling the bow on his back, and stared as he bowed to me. "We protect those of the Qun," he explained. "We don't abandon our own." He turned away, likely to inform the Arishok. This… wasn't going to be pretty.
"Althea." I looked up and found Elthina looking at me from the second floor. She looked unperturbed at the sudden assassination. "Please, send for Viscount Dumar."
Right. Leave the job of telling the Viscount that his only son was dead, killed by a Chantry zealot to me. Why not? I do all the jobs anyway.
The Viscount wouldn't believe me. He wouldn't even move, stating he'd only leave his desk until Saemus arrived. I ended up picking him up, throwing him over my shoulder, and carrying him to the Chantry. It wasn't hard. He was horribly light.
And he was horribly broken as he stared at Saemus's corpse.
"My… my son…" he rasped, collapsing next to it. He tugged the body into his lap, pressing his hands against the neck to feel for a pulse, the chest to feel breath. But everything was still. "My son. Murdered in the heart of the Chantry, but those who held a sacred trust." Yep. All because he thought differently. "What hope… what hope is there for this city? When we… when we fail our own so completely?"
"I don't know how to answer that," I told him honestly. I stayed back, leaning against the statue of Andraste, watching the brazier burning. This would spread like wildfire. How would people react? Would they blame the Chantry? Saemus? The Qunari? Did it matter? "The Qunari will attack."
"I know."
"Hundreds will die."
"Yes."
"Just like Saemus."
"Yes."
"Caught in the middle of leaders and their wars."
"That's right. Just as always. War is eternal damnation."
"It's worse, isn't it? After all, eternal damnation is only supposed to affect the people who deserve it."
"Too true. Too true."
Silence fell for a moment before I whispered, "The city will need its leader, sir."
"And I am no longer than man." His voice was soft and broken as he cradled Saemus to his chest. "I have failed where it mattered most." The words echoed my own thoughts. "I am sorry, Lady Hawke. Will you please…?"
"Good evening, sir." I bowed to his back and left him to be alone in his grief.
As I stepped outside the Chantry, though, and looked up at the full moon glowing in the sky, I couldn't help but feel aggravated at being late again.
Why was it that only I seemed to recognize the signs of trouble before it was too late? Why was I the only one who even thought of acting? I couldn't even save my mother! How could I save anyone else?!
Author's Notes – The poor Viscount. Everything just goes downhill for him. But man, I know I said this before, but Act 2 is a long string of being too late to stop anything. Nice foreshadowing the biggest problem behind the main conflict, game. I had Hawke alone mostly to reflect her mental state (that is, in mourning and a depression over her mother's death) and because the whole thing was SUPPOSED to be secret.
Also, who's been enjoying Inquisition? I HAVE (god, I put 90 hours into my first playthrough... and I'm sure there are those who did more)! Playing through has revamped some of my original intentions for Inquisiton's novelization (lucky I've been so vague up to now, huh?). Sorry for the short chapter. It's a short quest, and I took out the only fight in it.
Next Chapter – To Catch a Thief (Heehee. We're almost done with Act 2, everyone!)
