Playing the Game Part I
"I know what Corypheus' next move will be." Josephine proclaimed in the War Room.
"You just stumbled on this, Madam Ambassador?" Cullen asked skeptically.
"In that future Rajmael visited, he said that the south fell into chaos because Empress Celen was assassinated." Josephine explained.
"Orlais already in a state of civil turmoil. The fighting and destruction is almost as bad as it was in Ferelden." Leliana informed. "Empress Celene is doing her best to try and cease the fighting, but if she were to suddenly die…."
"The balance of power will be thrown out of control, and everyone will be too busy fighting for the Orlesian throne while an army of demons marches down on them!" Cullen concluded. "And with the most powerful nation in the South destroyed, the rest of Thedas will follow."
"The Empress' death will be Corypheus' keystone into the invasion and conquest of Thedas." Rajmael stated grimly. "This cannot be allowed to happen. Have we sent warning to the Empress?"
"We have, but the Empress' court is not so receptive of us." Josephine answered. "They see us as another political rival for control."
"Right, because assassination is just all too common Orlais." Rajmael said sardonically. "Just one more on the Empress' life is no big thing. They just haven't taken into account what will happen if the assassin succeeds."
"I know where this assassination will take place." Josephine stated. "The fighting in Orlais isn't going well for any side. Celene and Gaspard's armies continue to fight in a stalemate while Briala's rebels harry them both. To that end Grand Duchess Florianne has called for a peace summit at the Winter Palace in Halamshiral. Absolutely everyone will be there. During the festivities, Empress Celene will be entering peace talks with the usurper Duke Gaspard, and Ambassador Briala."
"With so many enemies under one roof, it would be the perfect place for an assassin to hide." Leliana spoke from professional experience. "And is she should die with all her supporters and enemies present, they'll tear each other apart."
"Halamshiral?" Rajmael completely forgot about the mission at hand as he remembered the bitter sweetness of that place. Once the capital of the Dalish Kingdom, but was destroyed when during the Exalted March when they human's broke their treaty and destroyed everything his people tried to rebuild after a thousand years of slavery. The elves who still live there, now lived like servants and slaves under humans rule, and every Dalish elf remembers its loss with sadness and anger. Rajmael needed to snap out of it. "Um…tell me about the contenders of this war. I'm afraid I don't know as much as I would like about what's been going on in this civil dispute."
"He's the man who would have been Emperor. Some still think he should be." Cullen answered sternly. "He's Celene's cousin, and the first to inherit the throne after Emperor Florian died. But Celene outmaneuvered him. She won over the Council of Heralds, who hold authority over all title disputes. She became the Empress, and Gaspard became The General of the Imperial Army, so he's is greatly loved by his troops. He is also the head of the Chevalier Order, most sided with him when he turned on the Empress."
"They swore an oath to serve the empire didn't they? Why would they help instigate a civil war?"
"Chevaliers have always been a guileless lot, but in this case they feel they are justified." Cullen answered. "Empress Celene has been working to improve relations with Ferelden and Nevarra, the Chevaliers see her as antimilitary. They believe the Gaspard can lead them back to the glory days of Drakon's expansionist years. By that logic, they believe they are serving the Empire."
Rajmael hocked a lugi and spat it on the ground, all his councilors looked at with mixed confusion and disgust. "What? All elves despise chevaliers. You can't trust the honor of someone who slays elves as an initiation rite. What do we know about the Empress besides public knowledge?"
"Empress Celene is a renowned diplomat and reformer." Josephine answered. "She has worked tirelessly to try and secure peace for the empire, but many Orlesians mistake peace for complacency. She has not named an heir, nor has she ever considered taking on a suitor, leaving the fate of her throne uncertain should anything happen to her. Especially considering that her cousin Gaspard would be next in line, and he's made very few friends within the Orlesian Court."
"Celene can also be incredibly ruthless, she'll do anything to get what she wants, by any means necessary." Leliana added grimly.
Leliana's comment was a bit of surprise. "What do you mean by that, Leliana?"
"Before the war started Empress Celene was granting concessions to make the lives of elves more tolerable in Orlais. Some of the nobles backing Gaspard began smear campaign that said that she favored the elves over true Orlesians, and when the elves began rebelling in Halamshiral, she burned their Alienage herself to discredit the allegations."
"And how do you know this?" Rajmael inquired.
"I'm the spymaster for a reason, Inquisitor." Leliana evaded.
"And what about this Ambassador Briala?"
"An Ambassador in name only." Leliana answered. "Sometime after the purge of Halamshiral's Alienage, Briala organized the elves of Orlais into an effective guerilla army, and they've all but crippled both Celene and Gaspard's forces. Celene has invited Briala to the talks in the hopes of getting the elves to aid her in her bid for the throne, which is scandal enough. There are rumors stating that Briala is in fact a jilted lover of Celene's, and that was the reason for the smear campaign against her."
"An elf sleeping with the shemlen empress who oppresses them?" Rajmael questioned. "Mmm! Trust me, that wouldn't go over well with a lot of elves."
"It is only a rumor, one whispered on the lips of many servants. But if true, the empress and an elf? The scandal alone would destroy Celene." Leliana confirmed. "A personal grudge, and an army of saboteurs at her command? A most promising lead."
"I assume we're not going into the lion's den blind?"
"With Gaspard and Celene's armies so deeply entrenched, we cannot march our soldiers to the Winter Palace." Cullen noted. "And if we're tracking down Venatori, I doubt there'll be just one, there's going to be a whole operation in there."
"My agents will be posted inside waiting for your men, Commander." Leliana assured. "But we will need to sneak your men in a few at a time to avoid notice."
"And I have already secured us an invitation from Duke Gaspard himself." Josephine added. "The Empress is worried that we'll upset the delicate power balance, and Gaspard is all too happy to tweak his cousin's nose."
"Then in that case there's only one problem left." Rajmael stated dismally.
"And what's that Inquisitor?" Cullen asked.
"Finding the right threads for what is sure to be a memorable evening."
"Oh, Josie, Vivienne and I may have a few ideas." Leliana informed with a look that somehow reminded Rajmael of a cat about to pounce on a mouse. He didn't know whether to be relieved or scared.
~XoXoXo~
Somewhere in one of the hidden corridors in Skyhold, Leliana found a hidden room almost as large as the Inquisition vault, and she filled the whole damned thing with the latest fashions from Val Royeaux. They had everything, shoes, surcoats, gloves, accessories, everything from buttons to zippers. Already Leliana, Josephine and Vivienne descended upon the garish clothes line likes vultures on a dead carcass.
"My dear Leliana, wherever did she find such a wonderful collection of ensembles?" Vivienne asked wondrously.
"Well, everyone needs a hobby. And I just can't buy shoes without having the right dress to go with them." Leliana answered sheepishly.
"And I added to this little collection knowing that eventually we were going to make a formal appearance to the courts." Josephine informed. "I have just the uniforms picked out for this ball." Josephine pulled out several matching uniforms made of highest quality red velvet. They were styled in traditional dress uniform and they were perfectly tailored to everyone's size.
"Oh, no, no, no, dear Josephine." Vivienne rejected politely. "We are all a part of the Inquisition yes, but we are the elite of the Inquisition. And we should wear only the finest ensembles that prove that we are. It just wouldn't do for us to look like peons."
"That…is a fair point." Josephine conceded. "And there are some things here that I've wanted to wear for a special occasion."
"Well, let's get everyone in here, and we'll pick out the perfect clothes line out for them." Leliana giggled. "Picking an outfit for Rajmael will be a little difficult, he'll want to wear something that shows off his Elven heritage, but I'll make sure he at least wears shoes."
"But let's not forget who deserves our attention the most: Seeker Pentaghast." Vivienne reminded with a sly grin on her face.
"I've been waiting for this day for years." Leliana laughed.
"This will be so much fun." Josephine commented.
One Brief Fashion Montage Later….
After a few painstaking hours of preparation, threats, bribes and possible emotional scarring, everyone was ready for the Winter Palace. They rode from Skyhold to Halamshiral with an entourage of their soldiers. This was definitely going to be a night to remember, as demonstrated by how some of them had dressed. When they arrived, the receptionists at the gates were shocked and awed by the Inquisitor and his entourage.
Dorian wore the traditional dress clothing of the Tevinter Elite, a layered plum surcoate designed with dragon motifs and a lace collar wearing a brooch with heraldry of House Pavus, and on his back was embroidery with the Sigil of the Inquisition. Dorian had no issues with wearing or even being seen in Tevinter cloth, he could make anything look good, and he could make anyone love him for wearing it, he said.
Cullen and Iron Bull were both a difficult task. Vivienne wanted Cullen to wear the dress uniform of the Knight-Commander, but he refused as he was no longer a Templar. And she wanted Iron Bull to wear this most garish purple vest and jacket with a ruffled collar and poofy pantaloons. Iron Bull politely insinuated that he wouldn't be caught dead in that thing. So they both decided to wear the red dress uniform Josephine prepared, but Cullen agreed to wear his service medals, and his ribbons to distinguish wear he served. Iron Bull wore it on the condition that he could wear some of the trophies he won that said what jobs he pulled like medals. Some Great Bear hide, Wyvern scale, Giant's hair and piece of a Dragon's Tooth.
Cole also decided to just wear the Inquisition Dress Uniform as well. No one would see or remember him, and he like the colors on the clothes. Josephine was even nice enough to find him a matching hat for the uniform.
Sera almost violently eschewed any kind of formal wear. "Don't want to look like a shit", she said. Not such a bad thing, Sera was more useful as a stealth operative, and she couldn't do that in lace and high heels, but formal wear was non-negotiable. So, she opted to wear the formal clothing of the Inquisition as well.
Of course Vivienne decided to wear only the latest and most fashionably up to fate ensemble. She did, after all, have a reputation to maintain within the Orlesian Court. It was modeled after her usual garb, but it was designed with intricate, overlapping layers of white garments that clung and flowed around her figure, and embroided with silver and pearls along the edges. She wore gilded thigh high boots with modest heel, laced with silver and bird designs. And, of course, she wore her signature split henin and her courtly mask inlaid with white-gold and lyrium crystals.
Leliana wore a very effeminate jacket and blouse of red and white, which complimented her figure and did very well to hide any weapons she'll be carrying. The red and white Leliana wore were the colors of the Chantry servants, embroided with the Andrastian Sunburst and Eye of the Inquisition, and it did well to compliment her red hair. She wore thigh high boots with gilded buckles, incredibly high heels that forced her to walk on the balls of her feet, and white leggings that clung to her shapely legs.
Josephine wore a ball gown that was reminiscent to her work clothes, only more extravagant. An intricate ruffled skirt that was like curtain of purple and gold, her blouse had a low neckline, and cut low in the back, which showed off her delicate, dusky skin. Her hair was intricately braided upwards, held in place by ruby hair pens, and a golden necklace with baubles of rubies and onyx laced around her elegant neck.
Blackwall tried to hide it, but he could barely keep his eyes off Josephine. Their residential Grey Warden was wearing a silver-colored coat with blue linings that complimented his upper body strength incredibly well. He bore the Warden Constable's Badge proudly on his chest, and pinned right next to it was the Silverite Wings of Valor. Blackwall didn't notice, but Josephine loved how he looked in formal wear, and the medals made her look at him even more.
Solas was a bit of a challenge. He always preferred wool and furs to silks and velvet, being a wandering apostate. Leliana graciously gave him the formal wear of a Thedosian Scholar, given his vast knowledge and sage-like demeanor, she felt it was only appropriate. Solas gladly accepted, though he chose to eschew wearing footwear, and wore a pendant of the Inquisition on his coat.
Varric wasn't one for formal wear, or for galas in general for that matter. While he loved to have money in his pocket, he wasn't suited for the life of luxury that the nobility loved to have. He'd much rather be at a tavern with scoundrels and thugs than sipping wine with the elite of Thedas. But seeing as the Orlesians assassinate anyone who don't even wear the right color for this season's shoe buckle, Varric decided to wear the formal wear of a deshyr of the Dwarven Merchant's Guild. He opened the collar to enough to show off his glorious chest hair, his signature identity, and Vivienne did say it was important to keep up appearances.
Rajmael was most uncomfortable in wearing finery, her preferred function to fashion, but he also knew the importance of appearances, especially in the face of potential enemies and allies. Knowing his fondness for the coat his Keeper bequeathed to him, Leliana dressed him in a formal white long coat with militaristic dressings. The long coat had leather tassels on the coat ends that Rajmael carved several of the Creators' names on to for protection, and the back was stitched with the Sigil of the Inquisition. His vest was made of finest black Great Bear hide and was embroided with floral patterns. Rajmael wasn't used to wearing these long, black leather boots, having them cover his feet, it was unnatural. Wearing leather on his feet; he may as well be walking with his feet in an animal's carcass. And as a special edition to the ensemble, Rajmael wore a like sash over his coat like a badge of honor, it bore the crest and colors of Clan Lavellan.
Rajmael's jaw practically fell to the floor when he Cassandra. She wore a neckless, and shoulderless gown with deep crimson accents along the edges, and the skirt was an intricate swirl of red and black, like red blood on black ink, with scarlet roses attached to it. Covering her strong, slender arms were these black silken gloves that reached up to her biceps, and wore small golden chain bracelets around her wrists. On the very edge of her top, towards her generous cleavage, was a pendant that bore the Heraldry of the Pentaghast Family. And by some miracle, Leliana actually managed to get Cassandra to wear these masterfully made, exotic, black high heeled pumps that forced her to walk on her tip toes. Cassandra was actually forced to ride sidesaddle with her legs draped over one side of her horse, and only one foot in the stirrup because of her skirt. She had an uncomfortable scowl on her face the whole way to Halamshiral, but Rajmael was too busy admiring those beautiful legs of hers in those silken stockings every time the wind blew her skirt up a little.
~XoXoXo~
They dismounted their steeds and turned their invitations into the valets at the gate. The guards and valets at the gates were shocked and awed to see Rajmael riding in on a halla. Neirin, on the other hand, was not comfortable with humans trying to grab his reigns. If Rajmael hadn't been there, there'd probably be a few skewered shemlen hanging from Neirin's antlers.
Cassandra was still uncomfortable in this confounded dress, and was even more uncomfortable with everyone staring at her.
"What are you staring at, Varric?" Cassandra asked with an undercurrent of hostility.
Varric was eyeing her like she was some kind of curio on a shelf. "Oh, I'm just making sure that I'll always remember this moment of you wearing a dress. This is definitely going on my list of weirdest things of ever seen. Right under that part where a hole in the sky showed up."
"Keep staring at me like that and I'll use these high heels to gouge your eyes out, dwarf." Cassandra promised.
"Aww, just look you, trying to look all tough and dangerous in that lovely gown of yours." Dorian cooed sarcastically. "Like a little puppy trying to act all big and tough, but you just can't take seriously because of how cute it is."
"You must relax, Cassandra, dear." Vivienne insisted. "If you keep up that ghastly scowl while wearing that lovely ensemble, you'll alert the assassin from a mile away."
"And war is one through various means, Seeker. Sometimes victory calls for us to do things that we don't wish to do, though in this case, I think you've drawn up a lucky hand." Solas stated.
"Lucky me." Cassandra said sarcastically.
Rajmael snuck behind Cassandra and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Cassandra, whether you're in steel or silk, you'll always be beautiful to me." He whispered to her as he kissed her neck.
"Well, there is one thing I would actually like to wear." Cassandra said with heavy breat. She reached into her handbag and pulled out the amber amulet that Rajmael gifted to her as a sign of his love, and placed it around her neck. The heart-shaped sylvanwood leaf rested perfectly on her chest.
Rajmael was actually touched. "Are you sure you wish to wear this so openly, Cassandra?"
"You gave it to me. Why should I be ashamed to wear it?" Cassandra answered with a smile.
Cassandra noticed an uncomfortable look in Rajmael's eyes. "Is something wrong, Rajmael?"
Rajmael sighed with depression. "I don't know it's just….Many members of my clan dreamed of coming to the Dales, of seeing our ancestral land, this place that was once our kingdom. But now that we're here, and seeing the squalor my people live in here, I can't help but feel guilty that I'm here to save the empress who oppresses my people so that we can gain the aid of an empire who treats elves like shit. I feel like I'm betraying them."
Cassandra understood what he was saying, and couldn't help but feel guilty as well. After all, it was the Chantry that put the elves on their knees and forced them to live in poverty under the elitist and indifferent boots of Orlais. It's easy to claim how righteous the Exalted March was when it was many centuries ago, when the dead and the pain are not even echoes of memory. But the elves remembered, and they were reminded every day when they woke up, and it was hard to claim that same righteousness when they were the ones still suffering for it.
Solas looked at Rajmael with pity in his eyes. "One battle at a time, my friend. Our people will still be here when Corypheus is defeated."
"Yes." Rajmael confirmed sadly. "And will they still be here, like this, after I'm dead and gone?" Rajmael shook the thought from his mind, and tried to remain focused on the task at hand.
~XoXoXo~
The others went ahead into the palace and waited for Rajmael. Being the Inquisitor, he had to make a grand entrance with the soldiers he brought. His soldiers all marched to the entrance of the palace in disciplined formation. When they arrived through the main gate, they stopped and gave Rajmael a perfect salute. The sight of the Inquisition entourage caught all the nobles' attention, but their wonder quickly turned into shock at the sight of these soldiers saluting a heathen Dalish elf.
Rajmael could already hear these elitist, racist bootlicks whispering behind his back, like he couldn't hear them.
"Is that the Inquisitor?" A lady asked disbelievingly.
"An elf savage? Maker forbid!" A lord said with shock a disgust.
"Only Gaspard would be so crass as to invite such vulgar company as a joke." Another lady said angrily.
Rajmael looked ahead and saw the Grand Duke approaching him. Josephine described him in great detail, and he memorized the crest of House Valmont on his garish mask, a yellow and two lions rampart above a Chevalier on checkered yellow and green badge shield. The Duke was a man at least in his sixties, balding and with a hard face beneath his mask, Rajmael could also see that trademark human arrogance in his eyes. Gaspard stood tall, and looked incredibly strong for a man his age, no doubt he was a great warrior in youth, but Rajmael noticed the slightest hesitation in his step, and the swing of his arms. He suffered some kind of injury and was trying his damndest to hide it, so he was probably not fit for fighting anymore.
Despite how gaudy his mask was, he wore the ceremonial armor of a Chevalier made of wyvern skin; probably one he killed himself. And he carried an almost outlandish sword with the image of a woman's face on the hilt and a lion's head on the pommel, encrusted with precious gems. But Rajmael didn't doubt the sharpness of that blade. Gaspard was a warrior, the Imperial Commander of the Chevaliers, and he wanted everyone to know it.
"Welcome, Inquisitor Lavellan! We meet at last." Gaspard greeted gregariously. "I'm a great admirer of your exploits. Brining the Rebel Mages into the ranks of the Inquisition was a brilliant move, one that most people wouldn't have the spine to even attempt. My favorite story is the one where you slew a Pride Demon in single combat in the Temple Sacred Ashes! And I've even heard you've become quite the dragon slayer."
"Yes. One Fereldan Frostback, an Abyssal High Dragon, and a Vinsomar." Rajmael answerd casually. "With the aid of my companions."
"Most impressive. Imagine what your Inquisition could accomplish with the aid of the rightful Emperor of Orlais at your back!"
Rajmael could see why the Duke wasn't popular amongst the other nobles, he wasn't a silent wallflower, or a delicate dandy. He was a lion and he knew it; he strode into the room and made himself known, no matter who was offended. A warrior's attitude, and one Rajmael would admire if he didn't know how pigheaded this guy really is.
"You might be surprised the things I could image, Duke Gaspard." Rajmael responded. "Would the rightful Emperor be capable of matching what my imagination conjures?"
"You and I are men of action, Inquisitor. We see what must be done, and we chase after it." Gaspard answered. "And I am not a man who forgets his friends: you assist me, and I'll assist you with all the authority my rightful place grants me." Gaspard invited Rajmael to walk with him to the palace. "Are you prepared to shock the world by arriving as the guest of the hated usurper, my lord? They will be telling stories about this night into the next age!"
"Oh, trust me, Duke Gaspard, these people won't believe what's happening, even while it unfolds before their very eyes." Rajmael promised.
"I knew we'd get along famously!" Gaspard laughed.
If only the Duke knew what was truly going on this night. He probably wouldn't be acting so smug if he knew there was a Venatori assassin serving a would-be god in the palace.
"As a friend, perhaps there is a matter you could look into." Gaspard suggested with his voice uncharacteristically quiet and filled with caution. "This…elven woman, Briala, I suspect she is here to sabotage the negotiations before they even take place. My people found these 'ambassadors' all over the fortifications. Sabotage seems the least of their crimes."
"So the elves were acting dodgy? Is that such an uncommon thing for servants in the Winter Palace?" Rajmael asked.
"That is usually what they want us to think, my lord." Gaspard answered. "I detest the Game, it is an honorless way to gain anything, but if we do not play it well, these saboteurs and sycophants will spell our demise for us. But we are keeping the court waiting. Shall we begin?"
~XoXoXo~
Gaspard led the way into the Winter Palace, and to the Ball Room. Rajmael was almost in awe of the Ball Room. It was a vast hall of gilded, alabaster walls and a marble dance floors set down below were everyone on the upper floor could see the festivities. Rajmael would be impressed if he didn't think such grandeur was wasteful.
At the end of the Ball Room, overlooking the dance floor stood the Grand Duchess Florianne and Empress Celene Valmont I, who stood in a gorgeous gown of satin blue, a lion-faced mantle on her back that held a sapphire blue cape that cascaded down her back, and a mask that represented her and her house. She had a beautiful smile on her face as she greeted each of the guests, but Rajmael knew the smiles of Orlesian nobles was just another mask, another lie to hide their ulterior motives.
The Inquisitor noticed his companions standing near the exit, waiting to be announced on the floor by the chamberlain. This guy must've had some impressive lung power, considering how loud he talked, how long some of these guests' titles were, and how many people he had to announce.
Rajmael noticed the scroll the chamberlain had and noticed how it was going to introduce him, and some of those following him. And he didn't like it. So he decided to subtly tell the chamberlain to say otherwise. "If you say any of that crap, I'll have you killed."
The chamberlain went as white as snow, and almost choked on his own tongue.
Rajmael waved his hand over the scroll and the chamberlain watched in amazement as some of the letters rearranged themselves into new introductions. "This is what you will read." Rajmael instructed.
"O-of couse, y-your worship." The man said. He cleared his throat and started doing his job, while trying not to piss himself. "Now presenting…Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons, Head of the De Chalons family, and Commander of the Order of the Chevaliers of Orlais." Gaspard gave a curtsied bow full of false grace, and strode towards his cousin and his sister.
"Accompanying the Grand Duke, Lord Inquisitor Rajmael Lavellan. First of Clan Lavellan, Savior and Protecter of the Mages of Thedas, Dragonsbane, and Herald of Andraste." The entire ball room went silent, and beneath the nobles' masks were faces of shock as Rajmael appeared on the floor and gave a respectful bow. They couldn't believe that there was actually a Dalish heathen walking their precious floors. He didn't show it, but on the inside he was laughing his ass off. Let's see any of these ass-kissing cheese-monkeys try to be a third of the badass he is. But he did smile that triumphant grin of his.
"Yes, smile, dear." Vivienne whispered approvingly. "Remember, this is all for show."
"And accompanying the Inquisitor," the chamberlain continued. "Lord Dorian Pavus, Member of the Cirlce of Vyrantium, son of Magister Halward Pavus of Asariel." Dorian bowed and winked to the Orlesian nobles. Somewhere repulsed by the presence of a Tevinter mage, while others, men and women alike, were intrigued by the exotic foreigner.
"The Iron Bull, Commander of the famed mercenary company The Bull's Chargers, as the name might imply. Mercenary Captain to the Inquisition." Iron Bull walked out on to the floor with heavy steps, and a big grin on his face. No one wanted to say anything to his face.
"Madame Vivienne, First Enchanter of the Montsimmard Circle of Magi, Enchanter of the Imperial Court, Mistress to the Duke de Ghyslain." Vivienne walked out with unflappable poise and grace, and proceeded down the floor with a sultry yet authoritative swagger. The audience was in awe of her elegance, and she knew it.
"Renowned author and adventurer, Varric Tethras. Head of Noble House Tethras, Deshyr to the Dwarven Merchant's Guild of Kirkwall, and veteran of the Second Qunari Invasion of Kirkwall." Varric bowed modestly, many of the attending nobles were excited to see the famous author.
"Warden Blackwall of Val Chevin, Constable of the Grey. Bearer of the Silverite Wings of Valor, and honored recruiter for the Order of the Grey Wardens." Blackwall bowed low and humbly, barely showing his face. Rajmael thought that it was good for someone with such credibility would also show humility.
"Her Ladyship, Iva Lodt of Khrabs." Sera snickered incessantly along with all the servants in the background.
"Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Callogera Filomena…."
"Get on with it!" Cassandra barked.
"…Pentaghast, Fourteenth cousin to King Markus Pentaghast, nine times removed. Hero of Orlais, and Right Hand to Divine Justinia V." Rajmael didn't realize Cassandra had so many names along with her longwinded titles. No wonder she hated going to these galas. A lot of the men, and even the women, couldn't take their eyes of the Seeker as she walked down the floor in her beautiful gown.
"Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath. Commander of the forces of the Inquisition, Former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, and veteran of the Second Qunari Invasion of Kirkwall." Cullen gave a polite bow, stone-faced and stern. Half the ladies and some lords swooned as he walked by. If things go well, Cullen might get lucky in more ways than one.
"Lady Leliana, Nightingale of the Imperial Court. Left Hand of Divine Justinia V, veteran of the Fifth Blight, seneschal of the Inquisition, and former companion of the Hero of Ferelden." Like Vivienne, Leliana walked the floor like she belonged there, but moved with infinite grace and charm. Every man wanted her hand in a dance, and every woman wished they held half the power she wielded.
"And Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet of Antiva City. Heir Apparent of House Montilyet, and Ambassador of the Inquisition." Josephine gave a perfect curtsy and walked down the way with the grace of a dancer, and a beaming smile. It wouldn't be much of a surprise if half the men in the ball room would ask for her hand later.
Rajmael was somewhat impressed with the chamberlain, he must have had some impressive lung power to say all that. Rajmael stood in front of his company, with the Grand Duke, before the gaze of Empress Celene and Grand Duchess Florianne.
"Cousin. My dear sister." Gaspard adressed with slight hint of contempt.
"Grand Duke, we are so pleased to have you join us this evening." Celene greeted with a voice like smooth silk, and natural grace.
"Don't waste my time with pleasantries, Celene." Gaspard insisted. "We have business to conclude."
"We will meet for the negotiations once we have finished greeting our other guests." Celene assured. The Duke gave bowed with faux courtesy and walked away. "Lord Inquisitor Lavellan, we welcome you to the Winter Palace. Please, allow me to introduce my cousin, Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons of Lydes, without whom this gathering would not have been possible."
"What an unexpected, but most welcome pleasure." Florianne greeted. "I did not think the Inquisition would be a part of our festivities."
"Orlesian festivities are just so entertaining and filled with so many interesting people, how could we not want to involve ourselves?" Rajmael asked with as much charm as he could muster.
"Well said." Florianne smiled. "We must speak later, Inquisitor." The Duchess walked away to join the rest of her little soiree.
"Your arrival to our court is like a cool on a summer's day. How do you find Halamshiral, Inquisitor?" Celene asked sweetly.
I would gladly burn you and every shemlen in this godforsaken shit-shack to the ground for desecrating the Dales with your filthy footprints, Rajmael thought to himself. "The beauty and majesty of the Winter Palace is beyond anything I've ever seen. I cannot do it justice."
"But your words are very well spoken." Celene complimented. "We look forward to watching you dance."
Everyone bowed in respect as the Empress turned from them, and they vacated the dance floor to get on with their business.
~XoXoXo~
"Inquisitor, I must speak with you." Leliana whispered urgently. "Immediately." Rajmael met with Leliana in a secluded corner in the vestibule where they could see everyone, but no one would hear them talking. "Did the Duke mention who our saboteur might be?"
"He's a Chevalier, Leliana. And he points the finger at whoever he thinks doesn't belong." Rajmael answered. "So, of course he points to Ambassador Briala."
"The Ambassador is up to something, no doubt, but I do not believe she is our main concern. Celene knows to be wary of her, and the best place to strike the empress is from her side." Leliana's face became deathly serious, now Rajmael knew to really pay attention. "The Empress is fascinated by mysticism; foretelling the future, speaking with the dead, that sort of rubbish. She has an…occult advisor. An apostate who has charmed her way into the empress' good graces, along with half of her court."
"I thought Vivienne was the official advisor to the empress about magic?" Rajmael said curiously.
"That position was always seen as nothing more than a glorified jester, Vivienne was the first to turn it into a political position, but when the Circles rebelled all mages became apostates. Celene brought this woman on as her arcane advisor because she was already an apostate, and could tell her things no Maker fearing mage could. And she has become very close to the empress."
"An apostate mage who charmed her way into the Empress' grace without the Chantry's approval or political BS? Wow! Vivienne must hate her guts! I like her already!" Rajmael laughed.
"This is no laughing matter!" Leliana scorned. "I've…dealt with her in the past. She is ruthless, capable of anything and has absolutely no compunctions about delving into things no one else should."
"You seem to know a great deal about this Arcane Advisor, Leliana."
"We have a history, both from before and during our time at court." Leliana answered. "She is worth investigating. That is all I'm saying, I cannot be certain. I will directing our spies if you need anything."
This was going to be a pain in the ass, but it was one Rajmael had to endure: playing the Grand Game. It was every Orlesian lords excuse to do terrible things to another person, and it was the only way to gain anything in the treacherous halls of Orlesian power. These activities only proved one fact that Rajmael had always known: Orlesians are treacherous, and not to be trusted. But he would play their little game, and he would best them at it.
~XoXoXo~
Cassandra stood in complete discomfort, waiting for the chance for Rajmael to call her and the others to action. High heels were the greatest punishment that any woman could suffer! How can Josephine, Leliana and Vivienne stand it? And worse than that, she was standing in this ridiculous dress in public! Cassandra could feel everyone staring at her; she like she was some kind of freak show.
"Excuse me, milady?" a young handsome Chevalier with bright blonde hair adressed politlely.
"Yes?" Cassandra asked disinterestedly. She could tell the man was a Chevalier from the feather in his hat, and he had a couple of medals pinned to his chest. And like all Chevaliers, he strutted around like a rooster in mating season.
"My name Jean-Renard de Parteu. I've fought since the beginning of the war, and one several decisive battles, I was even with the Duke when he first declared his intent to take his rightful throne." The man lauded.
"Is that supposed to impress me?" Cassandra rolled her eyes.
"I just arrived at the palace when I noticed you standing there, and I knew immediately that I had to introduce myself to you, I had to know who you are. Please, will you do me the honor of telling me you name?"
"Ugh!" Cassandra groaned. "Cassandra Pentaghast, if you must know."
Cassandra was almost amused by how quickly the enthusiasm left the Ser Whats-His-Names' face. He quickly gave a respectful bow. "Oh! Er, i-it's a pleasure t-to meet you, S-seeker! An honor, r-really. Would you…please excuse me?"
"You're the only one talking." Cassandra was amused by how quickly the vain knight got away from her. It would seem her reputation in Orlais was still withstanding, and it made for the perfect suitor repllent.
"Here for barely an hour, and already you're making quite the impact, Cassandra." Leliana laughed. "It is good to see you dressed for the occasion for once."
"Ugh. This just like my fourteenth birthday all over again." Cassandra remembered dismally. "My Uncle would dress me up like a porcelain doll, and whole line of suitors would ride in on their steeds, and tell me how my beauty shames the sun. Bah! I'd rather wear a shirt made of shattered glass and molten led boots than go through that again."
"Ha! Then what did it take for you to wear such an ensemble here where there would be lords a plenty who would bore you for hours about your beauty, your status and everything else about you?"
Cassandra blushed slightly. She couldn't keep things from one of her oldest surviving friend. "An elf who rode in on a white halla, and said that I hit like a girl." If this was any other event, Cassandra would gladly accept a dance with Rajmael while wearing a dress. But she'd never actually tell him that.
~XoXoXo~
Dorian stood by himself in the inner courtyard tossing a few caprice coins into the fountain, while listening to pleasant music. The ham was delectable, even though it tasted of despair. Events like these almost reminded him of home. Almost. In Tevinter the environment is much darker, and magic was on constant display to show off their prowess, and his mother was usually nagging in his ear. Also, most of these nobles believed that their titles offered them some sort of protection and were too important to be killed by their neighbor, however, in Tevinter everyone was capable of killing everyone, and not just because they were mages, even the slaves serving drinks were trained killers; either the were mages themselves or seasoned soldiers and assassins. Sigh. Thoughts like these were making him homesick, Dorian decided to go try the cheese, he heard it tasted of regret.
~XoXoXo~
Ironbull was enjoying being the center of attention. They were all asking about the Boss, and making innuedo about how big his muscles must be. Obviously he enjoyed the flattery, but Bull could tell that some of these guys were actually spies. The one guy dressed in really tight pantaloons with a heron-feathered mask was a chevalier, most likely he had knives hidden in his sleeves. Bull could tell from the way he stood and the way he motioned his arms. So were the elven girls passing him drinks and snacks, they were constantly eyeing everyone, and the humans were too snooty to notice. No mages though, if the Venatori are here, they'll definitely be bringing serabass. He was hoping the Boss would sniff them out soon; some of these ladies and lords were giving him the hungry eye, and was tempted to take them all around the corner and oblige them.
~XoXoXo~
Sera thought it was too easy. Most of these self-important tits were too busy watching Cassie's nice, firm ass, and trying to get autographs, and learn about the champion from the hairless dwarf to notice that she was swiping their purses and whatever jewels and valuables that they were flaunting on their clothes. Oh, what would she do with all this gold and jewel trinkets? She'll keep the gold obviously, but maybe she'll throw all the jewels and pearls to the poor sad saps in the gutter back in the city. That'll rub shit in the noble arses' noses.
~XoXoXo~
Cole could see all of these people, but none could see him, and he was very confused. All of these people said something to one another, but meant something else. Some of them would say nice words to each other, but are actually hateful, and some actually meant to hurt the people they were talking nice to. He spoke to Varric about it, but he told him to not do anything and enjoy the dancing. Cole didn't understand the dancing, but he liked the pretty hats. On the table there was a plate with many pretty little cakes on it, he didn't understand how people could eat something so pretty. Cole tried one and it tasted like happiness.
A servant walked by to deliver some more cake at the refreshment table and just as she dropped it off it disappeared! She thought she saw someone make off with it but couldn't remember clearly, so she decided to get more, quickly.
~XoXoXo~
Now this is where Vivienne belonged. In the halls of power where the most important people of Thedas decide the outcomes of the world. And tonight, one of the most important outcomes in history will be determined, and she would have a part to play in it. The Inquisitor has done well so far, he actually surprised with how well he handles the nobility. Vivienne would wait to see how long this sudden state of wisdom and practicality would last. If there was one thing she learned, it was not to trust the Inquisitor's powers of pragmatism.
The Council of Heralds was here to decide who had the stronger claim for the throne, but it was only the six of them. The seventh one, her dear Bastien, was…indisposed. His absence would complicate the matter, and the outcome would most likely be decided by whichever of the contenders came the most prepared. If the Inquisition was to better fulfill its mission, it would behoove them to determine who should rule the empire, but only to the best benefit of the Inquisition. After all, the Inquisitor's successes were hers as well.
~XoXoXo~
And here he was once more. Watching from the sidelines as the powerful and entitled strutted around like peacocks showing off their feathers while pretending to be raptors. He had seen many such displays in the Fade, the powerful remain the same, and only the costumes change. Most nobles went through their lives never noticing the servants who serve their drinks, or realizing that it was the servants, not the other lords that they should be wary of. Far too often the nobility were too arrogant or too ignorant to notice how easily it was for the servants they deliberately ignore could poison their drinks or steal their secrets. And even if they did realize this fact, most were too proud to act on it, that would force them to admit that their lowly servants were a threat, and therefore worth noticing.
Rajmael had made it to the halls of power by the strength of his own will, something that most nobles knew nothing of. And they had no idea what to make either him or the Inquisitor, neither of them were people that the nobles wanted to acknowledge, but neither were they people who could be ignored. An unwelcome conundrum. The servants, on the other hand, were happy to refill Solas' glass, and they even called him hahren, and the Inquisitor was already hunting down clues and suspects with the inquisitive mind of a follower of Dirthamen. This would shape up to be an eventful evening.
~XoXoXo~
Blackwall stared at the other side of the dance floor, utterly enamored. Josephine was a lovely as an early spring, a fact made more obvious by the gorgeous dress she wore. Andraste's Knickers that woman is beautiful. He watched her talk with her younger sister, another pretty thing, but she had some time to go to catch up with her sister, both in wisdom and in beauty.
"Instead of standing there looking like a creepy, bearded statue, why don't you just go over there and ask her to dance?" Rajmael suggested earnestly.
"Oh, I'm tempted. Really tempted, but it wouldn't be appropriate." Blackwall stated. "There's just too much standing between us."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm well aware how much you shems like to put so much importance on petty social differences." Rajmael waved off. "But I think an acceptation can be made tonight. To the eyes of the nobility, she is yet another lovely face in a sea of masks and intrigue. And you, Warden Blackwall, are a highly ranked, decorated slayer of darkspawn in a time where Grey Warddens are celebrated as heroes. I think you two at least deserve to have one dance with each other, on a night where you two can be considered equals."
Blackwall hadn't thought of that. For her to be seen dancing with a Grey Warden who wanders the wilderness for a living, what might that do to her carefully made reputation? "I don't know….perhaps?"
Rajmael handed the indecisive Warden a shot of some Coastland Whiskey he found on one of the serving tables. "Here's a little liquid courage."
Before his better judgement could make a coward of him, Blackwall downed the glass in one shot, and decided to take Rajmael's advice. He made his way over to Ambassador Montilyet who was still talking to her sister. Rajmael also made his way over there when he saw Cassandra approaching Josephine.
"Milady, Josephine." Blackwall greeted courteously.
"Oh, Warden Blackwall. My Lord Inquisitor." Josephine curtsied. "This is my sister, Yvett Gabriella Montilyet."
"A pleasure to meet you, ma'am." The two men greeted.
"Oh, Inquisitor! I have so many questions!" The younger Montilyet almost squeeled. "Is it true that you and Seeker Cassandra are going to elope, and move to Nevarra, and make a claim for the throne, and slay dragons together?"
"Yvette!" Josephine scolded.
"I want to know!" Yvette whined.
Rajmael smiled slyly as he wrapped his arm around Cassandra's waist. "I've already reserved our honeymoon suite in Cumberland. Isn't that right, ma vhenan?" Rajmael planted a few kisses on Cassandra's lovely neck.
"No! That is not true!" Cassandra denied while she blushed several shades of crimson.
"Oh! But that would be so romantic if it was." Yvett looked to Blackwall and giggled like a school girl. "Josephine, is this the Warden you wrote to me about?"
"Shh!" Josephine hissed, making her sister giggle even more.
It was now or never. Blackwall swallowed hard and forgot all about his social rank. "Might I have this next dance, Lady Josephine?" he asked nervously before the music resumed.
Josephine's eyes lit up like candles, her smile filled with genuine joy. "I…was hoping you'd ask, Warden Blackwall."
Blackwall offered his arm, and Josephine gladly took it as he led her down to the dance floor. Rajmael had now idea Blackwall knew the Montsimmard Waltz.
~XoXoXo~
Rajmael decided to take Leliana's advice and had spent the better half of an hour listening and gathering information, mostly from the elven servants, as well as charming up a few of these noble snobs. It was amazing how easily they could be moved by false smiles and fake words depending on how pretty they were.
The elven servant were hiding something. Something about hiding something in the garden balcony. Something Briala didn't want discovered. And whatever Ambassador Briala was hiding was definitely something he needed to know.
He made his way into the gardens and easily snuck his way past the chatting nobles as he snuck up the lattice to the upper balcony. The closet the elves spoke of was locked by some kind of enchantment; someone really didn't want anyone else to open it, but he easily disabled the magic charm. Rajmael was surprised to find the bodies of two imperial messengers inside, along with the letter her was supposed to carry.
Strange. This was a letter from Gaspard to Celene beseeching her for an alliance against Briala. The Duke actually considered her to be the biggest threat. Why? The letter spoke of a weapon in Briala's possession, an elven artifact that made her, and the elves serving her, a threat to both contenders for the throne. What artifact could she possess that would make Orlais' highest ranking general sweat enough to make him want an alliance with the empress he wanted to depose? This must be why Celene wanted Briala apart of these talks: the Ambassador was too dangerous to ignore.
Briala must have learned of the Duke's intentions and killed the messenger, and stole the proposal of alliance. If Briala was half as smart as he thought she was, she would have sent false letters to both the Empress and the Duke to heat up the fighting, and keep attention off of her. Rajmael was definitely going to need to find out Briala's intentions. Still, he couldn't help but like her for sticking it to the shemlen bastards who take delight in harming elves.
Rajmael made his way over to the Arcane Advisor's office and was pleased at how fortunate it was to find it empty. Her office was hidden behind a secret door behind the book shelves, but Rajmael could sense the magic behind it, and found the hidden lever that revealed the room behind it. The office had strange artifacts of all cultures. Elven, Tevinter and even Chasind artifacts littered the room, many of them were things that the Chantry forbade. On her desk Rajmael found a letter from the hand of the empress herself. The empress stated that she wanted her Arcane Advisor at her side during the peace talks. Apparently she didn't trust her cousin enough to not bring magic into the negotiations, and it wouldn't be the first time he brought a mage to undermine her, so Celene wanted her personal mage there to protect her should that happen.
Given how much importance the Empress was placing on an apostate, whose position in court was precarious at best, and whose only protection came from the empress, it was not likely that this "Lady M" was the assassin they were looking for. If the Empress was killed by magic, fingers would first be pointed to her.
But something else was going on. A few of the servants actually approached him and warned him not to go into the servant's quarters. Said that no elf that went there came back out alive. That definitely sounded like the place to check out. But first, it was time to go, before Rajmael was missed and the nobles started wondering where the Inquisitor was.
~XoXoXo~
Rajmael made his way back to the Grand Ball Room's entrance in the Foyer. And then he felt something, like a cold chill mixed with static electricity crawl up his spine. A very powerful mage, with a very unique control over magic was nearby. A mage with access to very ancient, and even primordial magic.
"Well, welll. What have we here?" Asked a voice a sultry voice that had winter's cold embrace. "The leader of the New Inquisition, fabled Herald of the faith. Delivered from the dark grasp of the faith by the hand of Blessed Andraste herself."
Watched as a raven haired woman with an almost ethereal beauty to her approach with each word. Her skin was like fresh snow, and had brilliant golden eyes, almost like his own. She wore a dark red velvet dress that was cut low in the front and generously showed off her feminine features, and other dark dressings that gave her a beautiful, mysterious but also dangerous appearance. She also wore a golden necklace with a turquoise gem of foreign design. Judging from her accent and her features, she was most certainly not Orlesian. Chasind perhaps?
"What could bring such an exalted creature to the Imperial Court? Do you even know, I wonder?" The lady asked.
"I suspect that I know myself, and my reasons for being here more than an unintroduced stranger probably could." Rajmael replied. "Courtly intrigues tend to obscure much."
"Indeed, but they don't hide everything." The golden-eyed lady smiled. "I am Morrigan. Some call me advisor to the Empress on matters of the Arcane. You…have been very busy this evening, hunting in the dark corners of the palace. Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey?"
"Well, that would depend upon the nature of our hunt, wouldn't it?" Rajmael evaded.
"You are being coy." Lady Morrigan chuckled.
"I'm being cautious. I don't make it a point to show my hand to strangers."
"Not an unwise decision, given the state of things." Morrigan replied. "Allow me to speak first, then. Recently, I found and killed a most unwelcome guest within these halls, an agent of Tevinter. Allow me to offer this as a sign of good faith. A key: where it leads and what it unlocks, I cannot say, but the assassin had it on him, and was most upset when I relieved him of it. I would search myself, but cannot leave Celen's side for fear of her assassination. Perhaps you can find where it leads."
This was the key to the servant's quarters, where those elves told him to stay away. It would be the perfect place for someone to sneak in troops or agents. "What does a Chasind Apostate gain from protecting the Empress?"
"Well, my life for starters." Morrigan laughed. "If anything were to happen to her, her occult advisor would be the perfect scapegoat, even if others knew otherwise. There are sharks in the water, Inquisitor, and I will not fall prey to them, not now, not ever. I hope you proceed with caution. Your enemy is allied with Tevinter, and their identity remains hidden amongst Celen's allies and enemies. What happens next, promises this to be a most eventful evening."
Morrigan smiled and walked off as though she were off to watch a play. Leliana was right, this woman was worth caution, but she wasn't the enemy they were seeking. This wouldn't be the last he saw of her, he was certain of that.
~XoXoXo~
"You stupid little elf-bitch!" A fat, obnoxious masked lord barked at his servant. The young lady had accidently spilled some red wine on his surcoat. "Look what you've done!"
Rajmael had never seen a shemlen so fat before. His stomach was as big a boulder, and his overly expensive mask barely fit over his chubby, fleshy face. The man's expensive threads threatened to tear under the strain that his grossly obese body placed on them. To be so well fed while others starved in the midst of a war was shameful to Rajmael.
"I…I'm sorry, messere." The young elven lady whispered. "You told me to run and…."
The fat lord smacked the young lady across the face in front of a whole room of people, the elves tried not to care, the nobles that looked actually didn't care, while the others acted as if nothing was going on.
"No excuses!" The fat lord yelled, his jowls and extra chins shaking. "Get out of my sight, before I have you caned!"
The kept to the walls, so as to not get in the other nobles' way, and scurried away weeping.
"Ugh! Elves." A noble lady groaned in disgust. "So clumsy and lazy. They should be grateful for what kindness we give them."
A sense of outrage washed over Rajmael, and that thing inside him began to stir once more as he watched the whole spectacle. He hadn't been a city elf since his parents were killed, but he remembered well how indifferent and cruel humans could be, and he couldn't imagine what his life would be like if he had never been adopted by Nethras' family amongst the Dalish. Halamshiral was originally the new homeland of the Elves, and even today the elves of the Dales vastly outnumbered the human interlopers. How can the elves of this land just let humans treat them like such shit?
Rajmael tried to keep his mind on the task at hand, but he couldn't help but glare poisoned daggers at the fat lord, and that fat lord couldn't help but notice.
How dare this lowly elf look at him thusly? "You bastard little knife-ear! What are you starring at?!" The lord demanded.
"Not much." Rajmael answered indignantly. "Just another fat human, who probably couldn't find his own dick with four hands and a map." The nobles gasped in shock, and the elves all snickered in the background.
The lord turned purple while his jowls shook with rage. "You miserable knife-eared, bastard-born, son of a slut! Who do you think you are?!"
And now he brought Rajmael's mother into it? Now it was personal. His eyes flared power as his magic began to shimmer around him, and his hand rested on his sword. "Rajmael Lavellan, Lord Inquisitor to the New Inquisition."
The once purple lord now turned pale. "A Dalish savage…? I mean-! Please, pardon me. My lord! Your worship! I…beg your forgiveness!" The lord's jowls were now quivering with fear.
Rajmael approached the fat lord, his eyes still glowing with power. "Usually when people beg me for anything, they're on their knees."
"W-what?" The lord asked wide-eyed with disbelief.
"Get. On. Your. Knees." Rajmael ordered dangerously. "And beg my forgiveness."
The fat lord looked around at his fellow peers as if they could offer him aid. The other nobles averted their eyes, as though they were ashamed of him. Even the man's chevaliers backed away into the shadows. With no one coming to his aid, the nobleman slowly lowered to his knees, the size of his obese body made it difficult for him to lower himself, and the weight of his lethargy hurt his knees something awful.
Rajmael dropped a handkerchief in front of the kneeling fat man. "While you're down there, shem, shine my boots."
The chunky noble apprehensively took the cloth, his knees and his weight killing him, and set to work shinning the Inquisitor's boots. Some of the nobles felt outraged at the sight of an Orlesian lord being forced to clean the feet of an Elven savage, while the elven servants hiding in the background felt a sense of vindication seeing one of those high and mighty shems being brought low by a fellow elf.
"Now look at me." Rajmael ordered vehemently.
The fat lord looked up to the Inquisitor, but his eyes didn't meet the elf's. His attention was too focused on the Inquisitor's sword pointed at him.
That thing inside Rajmael demanded that he kill this fat fuck, make everyone in this room pity his fate. Rajmael ignored it. He had another idea. "Now you can beg my forgiveness."
"Please, Inquisitor, I beg Andraste's forgiveness!" The man wailed as he felt the heat from the Inquisitor's white hot blade burn his face. "I beg your forgiveness! I'll increase my servants' pay, I'll donate to the Inquisition! I'll do whatever you want!"
The obese lord's fleshy face was streamed with tears and his whole body shook beaneath his tight-fiting, garish clothing. This was so pathetic, it was almost funny.
"Take of your mask." Rajmael ordered.
The other nobles gasped in shock and horror as the fat lord unwillingly removed his expensive, barely fitting mask and dropped it to the floor. Rajmael could now see his piggy little eyes, beak like nose and fleshy face, the man reminded actually reminded him of a stuck pig. There was no worse shame for an Orlesian lord than to be removed of his mask, but to have it removed on the order of an elf, was almost too shameful to bear. And then, the Inquisitor crushed the bejeweled mask beneath his shinned boot.
"If I ever hear you mistreat another elf, or even utter the word knife-ear again, I'll know. And next time, I'll burn the fat from your body and make you eat your own entrails." Rajmael turned away and left the pig-like noble kneeling in shame before his own peers, sobbing like a little girl, barefaced and shamed in a manner that crushed his soul.
That thing inside Rajmael continued to scream at him, it wanted him to go back and murder that lord. Show these humans what elven wrath looks like, make them regret ever befouling this sacred land with their filth ridden footsteps. But Rajmael ignored it. He was here for another reason entirely. Still, it gnawed at him like a hungry wolf. There was no doubt in his mind that if every shemlen soul in this stolen kingdom of his people's was to die, he would not shed a tear, only smile at the poetic justice of it all.
But first, he must perform his bitter duty, and save this Empress who would continue to treat his people as secondary citizens fit only to serve and oppress. Rajmael knew in his heart that no matter who won tonight, his people would still lose, and be seen only as fodder to the humans of this putrid empire.