20 years.
Since the rise of Corypheus and his fall.
Since the shock of the Exalted Council and the unmasking of Fen'harel.
Since the rise and fall of the Inquisition.
And no one remembered.
Though there was a scar in the sky, a ribbon of lights to remind all of Thedas that the Veil had been ripped apart, the Orlesian nobility had already forgotten, reverting back to their petty squabbles and their delightful diversions of corruption, espionage and murder. Nothing had changed. Empress Celene still held the throne, she still had not picked an heir, and the nobles still whispered of rebellion. Marquise Briala held her lands and title with the tightest grip, in spite of Celene's waning support. There was no room for elves in the Grand Game.
Except for those who knew how to play.
And tonight, at a celebration honoring the anniversary of the Divine's ascension, two stood amongst them. A Right Hand and a Marquise.
The Right Hand, with dark copper skin and Elgar'nan's vallaslin, scanned the ballroom, quietly noting the motions and machinations of the servants and nobility alike. She still refused to wear a mask, as she always had, relying on her charm and the good graces she earned - shielded equally by claims of divinity and by powerful allies.
It had been eighteen years since she last set foot into the Winter Palace, yet Josephine's first words still lingered:
Every movement, every reaction, is measured and evaluated for weakness.
And it did not help that many were eager to greet their former Inquisitor, purely to test their limits or gauge her power.
Cassandra Pentaghast, now Divine Victoria, sat beside her, dressed in resplendent red and white, a golden Chantry Sunburst emblazoned on her chest and a deep scowl on her face.
"I still do not see why I need to be here," Cassandra said as she shuffled in her seat, fingers tightly gripping the armrests of her chair, "You and Vivienne were always better at tolerating these sort of….functions."
"You are the Divine." 'Manehn, the former Inquisitor and current Right Hand of the Divine, replied with a small shrug.
"Yes, and therefore I have very little time for sitting like a prized doll for the nobles's amusement. I do not need their favor."
"Their favor isn't the reason you're here. Your presence keeps the nobles on their toes," 'Manehn said, with the slightest tinge of annoyance, "Did you really think your position would mean immunity to the Game? "
"I merely hoped it would. We don't have time for this, especially if what you expect to happen will come to fruition."
'Manehn pointed back towards the marble walls behind them with a small chuckle, "Well, at least the walls are sturdy for punching if you really need it."
She motioned to a few guardsmen with a quick wave of her hand, who rapidly rushed to the Divine's side, taking her place as she stepped off the dais and made her way towards the center of the ballroom. "I'll even see if I can send an enemy or two your way. Your glare alone could kill on site."
"In the meantime," she said, with a wide grin, "I'll speak with our source."
Another elf made her way across the ballroom, her cinnamon brown curls braided and pinned into a high bun and her freckled face obscured by a golden mask that highlighted the warm undertones of her tawny skin, nodding politely, making small talk, playing the Game just as deftly and as earnestly as she had done for decades. She approached 'Manehn with a slight smile.
"My Lady, you're looking radiant as ever," 'Manehn said with a coy smile as she approached, "and you are always a welcome sight."
"As charming as ever, I see." Briala replied with a smirk.
"I try."
"Try harder."
"Ouch, you wound me. Such barbed and wicked words from such a beautiful woman?" 'Manehn said, placing her hand over her heart in dramatic fashion.
Briala started laughing, attracting a few glares from surly nobles eager for favor and angered by the elf's presence. "And how many women fall for these lines?"
"None, my Lady," 'Manehn said in a surprisingly tender voice, "I save them for you."
Briala said nothing as both walked towards the dance floor. 'Manehn took her hand and they began to dance, Briala effortlessly matching 'Manehn's stumbling steps.
"So, was there anything out of the ordinary that you saw?" 'Manehn said with a sudden crisp tone.
"Nothing yet," Briala replied with a matching curt affect, "Wherever his spies are, they are well trained. I detect nothing unusual among these servants. Though I know one of his agents is here."
Briala leaned in as the music slowed to a crawl.
"I leaked false information to three of my agents, an itinerary where I would be vulnerable and be acquiring 'highly sensitive intelligence'. Reinforcements showed up…attempted assassination. It's likely they planned to frame humans for the murder, leading to a revolt, which would incite a crackdown…"
"Wait….this afternoon?! Why didn't you tell me?! I could've…"
Briala put a finger to her lips to silence 'Manehn's protests. "All you would've done is tipped them off," she said, "Especially based on your reaction just now. I can handle one measly assassination attempt. Besides, the nobles here send so many that's it become tiresome. I schedule time in between various masquerades and traipsing about with you."
"I guess it won't be an ordinary visit without an attempted assassination or two." 'Manehn replied with deadpan snark.
"An attempted assassination or two is an ordinary visit to every soiree, or has court life made you soft?" Briala teased.
"Now you're just fucking with me." 'Manehn said with a smirk.
"Oh, I would never dream of it."
"Are you sure about that?" 'Manehn said with knowing smirk, "... or am I just imagining your hands creeping lower on my hips?"
A bright flush rose in Briala's cheeks, red enough to show on her olive cheeks as she pulled her hands away, "They were not! And, if we could be serious for one second," she retorted, "the agent who set up the assassination attempt is likely here, since the first one failed and this soiree was next on my itinerary. But we need to establish who gave the order. I have traced the source to here, but that's all I know at the moment. I have plenty of enemies."
"And allies." 'Manehn corrected her.
"Never mistake alliances for allies," Briala said, her tone still serious.
'Manehn stopped their dance and took Briala's hands from her hips. "So am I an ally or just a convenient alliance to you?"
"You know that's not what I meant. I meant that you're still used to open battles, clear targets, and eliminating them. You also have individuals you can trust to back you up. A war of subterfuge is long, arduous and always uncertain."
She took 'Manehn's hips again and slipped an envelope into her belt as the music came to a stop.
"A map of the grounds. See what you can find. I'll wait here," she said between the nobles whistles and claps, "I'll watch for trouble. I believe I saw Madame de Fer here as well, she could have seen something."
"And please be careful," she warned 'Manehn as she walked away.
'Manehn retreated to the shadows as the music began once more, all the while seeking hidden blades among placid smiles. She pondered Briala's words, machinations and motivations. They had worked together for decades, a slow friendship fire-forged after the battle at Mythal's temple and after the Exalted Council. Yet still, she feared the Game more than she trusted 'Manehn.
She stared at the dais, watching Cassandra grow increasingly surly, almost sulking, her fingers now gripping her chair hard enough to steal blood from her fingertips.
Suddenly, a clear whisper called to her, just enough to hear over the lute players and lushes in the ballroom. A call to action and a warning of danger.
She rushed back to the dais and slipped Cassandra her dagger.
"Keep this for yourself if the guards fail," she said in an urgent whisper, "I must investigate something, and I don't want you in danger."
"What are you talking about?" Cassandra called after her to no avail. 'Manehn had already rushed across the ballroom and out of sight.
The soft clinking of her armored boots against the gold veined marble sent prickles down her arms, already itching from the heavy fabric and leather armor. She pulled slightly at the leather straps that pinned a blade to what remained of her left arm.
Whether intuition or supernatural forces called to her was irrelevant. 'Manehn followed the voice that lead and beckoned with urgency, past the gardens, retracing the same steps 20 years prior, when she wore an innocent, less world weary face.
More whispers followed as she entered the guest rooms, this time from three elves. Servants, she thought, as she ducked behind a trellis to catch some remnant of conversation.
"Are they in position?"
"They better be, we've waited FAR too long for this moment."
"All of them die tonight. The Divine, the elven Marquise, the Right Hand..."
'Manehn released the pin on her prosthesis, revealing the silverite blade hidden within her sleeve, and bolted from the shadows as they approached. She slashed at the first attacker, sending him stumbling. Unhooking a small crossbow from her belt, she shot three bolts in the chest of a second and two bolts into the head of a third.
She crouched besides the body of the barely breathing man she had slashed and retrieved a small paper sticking out of his belt. Arrows whizzed by her head and sent her scrambling as a fourth person in hiding tackled her to the ground, pinning her sword arm in place.
"Elgar'nan!" 'Manehn cursed as she struggled to gain leverage, releasing herself from the elf's grip with a sharp blow to the temple and a quick thrust of her blade in his belly.
More arrows came and she bolted towards a wall, seeking cover as she searched the line of sight.
Spotting one of the archers, she lifted her crossbow, ready to fire before she heard the crunch of bone and loud screams. A shattering of ice and the clicking of heels on cobblestone followed, and 'Manehn turned towards the sound of her rescuer. She was dressed in pastel blue and white, with a long silver chain hanging from a graceful neck and protective braids bound into a tight ponytail that swished back and forth as she walked.
"Lady Vivienne…" she addressed the woman with a grin and bow, "your help was appreciated, but I can handle myself, you know."
"And you're very welcome, darling," Vivienne replied with a small knowing smirk. "You might have told me first if you were going to run off and leave me out of the fun."
"I'm sorry…"
"All is forgiven, my dear. It is better to split our efforts and play to our different strengths," Vivienne said, "But a word of advice: don't confuse an ally and an alliance. This is the Game, and she plays it just like everyone else here."
'Manehn cocked her head and shot an incredulous look, "Are you talking about Briala, of all people?"
"Just don't make the same mistake you made years ago - trusting the intentions of a person you didn't know. We will speak again in -."
The sound of screams interrupted Vivienne and 'Manehn.
"Shit! They're under attack, we have to go!" 'Manehn cried, grabbing Vivienne's hand as they raced towards the ballroom.
The ballroom was utter chaos as Vivienne and 'Manehn flung open the doors, with nobles fleeing towards the vestibule while Briala and the Orlesian guard were racing to eliminate the attackers. But no attackers were in sight as 'Manehn searched the ballrooms, eyes squinting and tearing from what felt like fire in her eyes. A thick cloud had settled over the ballroom and along the walls, thick and creeping, searing the eyes and mucous membranes of any and everyone caught in the cloud.
"There's a mage here as well," Vivienne said with disgust as she wiped hot tears from her face, "they help sustain this cloud. Be careful."
Against the wall behind the dais, Cassandra stood fast, dagger at the ready, with blood on her robes and dead guards at her feet.
Another elf appeared from the shadows and quickly stabbed a noble in the back before rushing towards a chevalier with a quick slash at his throat. 'Manehn stabbed him in the back then rushed towards the dais. The Divine had to be protected, at any cost.
She heard the slightest whistle of a blade in the air by her neck, and slashed at the air, connecting with muscle and bone and revealing another elf as she fell. Another lunged forward but Briala sunk a throwing dagger into the back of his head.
Out of sight, Vivienne quickly cast a large barrier to protect the remaining nobles and guards. She cast another spell to dispel the mist, revealing four confused elves and a stunned human mage, whom 'Manehn promptly riddled with bolts. The remaining chevaliers sprung into action as well as 'Manehn and Briala, cutting down the elves that remained.
The screams dulled to dead silence as the nobles that lived took in the sight of elven and human blood, and the Right Hand, Marquise and Grand Enchanter standing triumphant.
None dared to speak until one person separated from the stunned crowd and began to speak as she stepped forward. A Grand Cleric, with wisps of silver and blonde hair sticking out of a disheveled hat and rouge tinted lips that sneered at their elven and mage saviors.
"Thank you. I'm impressed how quickly you dispatched these fiends," she said in a lilting Orlesian accent that amplified her haughty tone, "It's almost….too impressive."
"I was not made Right Hand for show. And this was not the only spy that infiltrated tonight!" 'Manehn said, producing the piece of parchment she had stolen from the dead elf's satchel. "These are orders from Fen'harel himself, to murder the Divine and myself."
Loud murmurs and sudden gasps replaced the stunned silence across the ballroom and beyond.
"And how do you know? What evidence do you have to support these claims?," she retorted, obviously flustered.
"I know because you'll find more of these assassins in the courtyard. They tried to kill me first." Vivienne piped up with the slightest contempt. "It seems that whoever was behind this wants those who oppose him out of the way. Why would he waste his time on us if we supported him? Lady Lavellan has raised her voice to oppose no one except Fen'harel. Maybe it's time to take the threat seriously."
She tucked a grey curl back into her hat. "And why was no one warned again, my Lady? Didn't these same blunders lead to the disbanding of your former Inquisition? Did we not witness this same terror before at your hands? How can we trust you when they are elves as you are!"
"Do I not still champion the Maker's cause? Do I not serve Divine Victoria, Most Holy, as her Right Hand? Did I not prevent the fall of Orlais, a great lion of a nation that stands against Tevinter? A shining beacon of an empire founded on the principles of the Maker and his Bride? Have I proven otherwise in twenty years? My organization is the only one mobilized against Fen'harel and his allies. Allies who have fallen tonight by my blade."
The silence turned to cheers from the nobility, roused to action by her fiery speech.
She turned to the cleric, a defiant gleam in her eye, "Or do you know something about our enemy's movements that I do not?"
"Let's do another sweep before everyone leaves," 'Manehn said, still glaring at the Grand Cleric, "I don't think that's all of them."
The rest of the gaurd rushed to action, leading the nobles away as 'Manehn returned to Cassandra's side.
"Looks like you got your wish after all, in the worst way possible," she said, repentant. "I did not mean to abandon you."
"My life matters little now if Solas has finally made a move," Cassandra said, stone-faced and grim, "we have to consider our options carefully. I would ask you to pull all of our resources that remain."
"You don't have to tell me twice," 'Manehn said as she ushered Cassandra out of the palace towards a carriage. "However, I think we have to tread lightly. Enemies abound here."
The Grand Cleric returned to the Grand Cathedral humiliated and red-faced, near fuming. The other mothers scattered out of the way as she approached, followed with low whispers and scandalized gasps.
She flung open the door to her quarters and immediately stumbled back, shocked to see an elven woman sitting on her bed. She was fair, like Natalie, with light brown hair braided tight against her scalp and her brown eyes set close together, gazing out the window behind her.
"I'm not happy with your performance, knife ear!," Natalie snapped.
"Katrina," the agent said, her back still turned. "And Fen'harel is just as displeased, if not more, shemlen."
"You didn't hold up your end of the bargain. I told you I needed more assassins in that garden but only my agents were there!" Natalie screamed as she stormed towards the agent. "You're supposed to work with me! you were supposed to - !"
The elf turned towards her, face blank of all emotion minus the smallest haughty smirk. "I did absolutely nothing wrong by standing back and watching you orchestrate your own downfall."
"We could've eliminated the Right Hand and her Divine EASILY if you would've….."
"No."
"No?!"
"We could've let her continue to fade into irrelevance until she loses whatever political clout she has left by clinging to the Divine's robes," Katrina said, pacing around the increasingly flustered Cleric, "we could've waited for Celene to use that moment to formally withdraw her support from Briala without upsetting the Chantry and the Divine in any meaningful way. And then you would play your role expertly and all the pieces would fall perfectly into place."
She stopped and leaned against the wall.
"Instead," she continued, her tone as cool as it was patronizing, "your foolish shortsightedness almost got your cover blown, has now galvanized them into taking harsher action against anyone suspected of being one of our agents…..AND Lady Lavellan has used your failure as her opening to leading the forces the nobles now wish to raise. And all you have to show are one dead mage and nine dead elves. Some of who," Katrina said with the slightest snarl, "were ours."
"Don't you dare place all of the burden on me!" Natalie said. "Doesn't this 'Solas' not want both the so-called Herald and the Marquise eliminated as well?"
"He wants them disgraced, not dead," Katrina replied. "If you kill them, how many alienages can you possibly purge? Can you stop an entire continent of elves rising against you?"
"I am less and less hesitant to wonder the longer your master drags his heels," Natalie snapped back. "I am also more convinced he does not move against that heathen for…..sentimental reasons."
"Death makes martyrs," she said, folding her arms, "And trust me Natalie, the thing you want even less than an elven Herald, Right Hand or Marquise, is an elven martyr. The elves will invoke Mien'harel, and you will see your Cathedral, your throne, your entire country burned to ashes. Just proceed as planned. We don't need much more time."