Rajmael of Clan Lavellan

by Powerslammer

Rajmael is an elf possessed of great pride and an incredible power. Born with a powerful name and a greater destiny, he has lived his whole life by the the Vir Tanadhal. And now he must use his ancient knowledge to stand against forces that threaten his world and everything he loves. Watch as he stands as a Dalish Elf, a Herald and as The Inquisitor. Please, please review.

41. The Untold Chapters: Part III

The Untold Chapters: Part III

Kirkwall, the City of Chains. This Free Marcher city state earned it's endearing epitaph from the fact that it was once the heart of the Tevinter slave trade during the height of the Imperium's power. Even today, Kirkwall had a terrible reputation, and it was a wonder that anyone wished to live there. This city was the breeding grounds for criminal organizations, corruption, Qunari invasions, and most recently, being a tightly held Templar police state.

Aedan had come to this foul-smelling armpit of the Free Marches with the intent of bringing his misplaced countrymen back home. Then, right in the middle of his speech, a bomb, or something like it, exploded right in the center of the gathered crowd. What started off as a peaceful rally quickly turned into a sea of blood, screams and confusion. Aedan was going to murder whoever was behind this assault, but first, he had to help the injured.

The entire Lowtown Market District turned into a field of screams, terror and pain. The one's closest to the blast were lucky enough to have been killed instantly, while dozens more had been injured, killed and maimed. Cries of agony and fear filled the air and blood soaked the ground as the survivors scrambled to help the victims or get the hell out of there. Guilt stabbed at Hawke like a knife in his chest. He couldn't help but believe that this was his fault. He tried to stop an assassination, but failed to realize it was a terrorist attack, and now so many people were dead and injured because he failed them. Hawke had to push it out of his mind; now was not the time for feeling guilty. Aveline had taken Garth under arrest, Hawke would help these people first, then find out how Garth did this.

"Bevin! Bring me a tourniquet! Help me stop the bleeding!" Aedan ordered, desperately applying pressure to a man's severed arm.

Bevin, Amethyne and the rest of the Silver Knights did their best to help their injured countrymen who were caught in the blast. Aveline brought in her guardsmen and any supplies they could bring to try and help, but it was difficult. All of them were trained for war and combat, none of them were healers.

Hawke did his best to keep himself from panicking or letting this disaster take control of him. It was so much like when the Blight destroyed Ostagar and Lothering. So many good people killed by a destructive force, and many more begging for help. This time, there was no running away. This was his home, and these were his people. He would do everything he could for them. The Champion had brought some healing poultices from his personal stores to try and help the maimed and wounded. They were of extremely high quality, and would work as well as magic. Lady Elegant was able to get her husband to bring in as many aid kits, while many of the merchants of this district tried to help as best they could.

Aedan and his men did what they could, but they were soldiers, not healers, and their skill in this matter was limited. Aedan was more than accustomed to the sight of blood and the sounds of people dying, but that was when he was inflicting death on people, not preventing it. He was outside his element, and trying to sew a man's guts back into his body was something he never prepared for. He didn't know how to save lives, only end them. Then his blue eyes caught sight of a certain blonde mage whose very presence pissed him off, but he now had a use for him.

Anders felt the Hero of Ferelden glowering at him, and wasn't sure if he should stay and help or tuck tail and run.

"Anders! You wanna redeem yourself in my eyes? Help my mage with the injured!" Aedan ordered, just like he used to back in Amaranthine. "Petra, you've got some help now."

Anders did what he was asked, both to heal this poor man's butchered body, and because he was afraid of what Aedan might do if he didn't. He focused his mana into a simple but strong spell. He had to close the wound and reattach all the fibers of flesh and sinew together, otherwise the wound might open up again.

Both Anders and Merrill used their magic to heal as many as they could, but it was futile. There were just too many people injured in the blast for them to help them all. At this rate, there would be far more dead than injured.

Garret noticed the sound of many footsteps walking down the pathway stairs from Hightown down here. He looked over and saw Grand Cleric Elthina's entourage, and it looked like they were bringing more healing supplies. More than that, she was accompanied by an entourage of Mages and Templars, and they weren't trying to kill each other. Thank the Maker. Sebastian, the Chantry sisters and the mages instantly set to work to bringing as much relief and help as possible. They might just save even more from dying.

"Champion. I came as quickly as I could when I heard what happened." Elthina addressed worriedly. "I cannot believe anyone would do such a thing, and to so many peaceful people."

"I can." Hawke said satirically. "Hate crimes are all too common in this city, they just have been big enough for anyone to notice, or care enough." In the back of Hawke's mind, he was disappointed and infuriated that this is what it took to get everyone's attention about all the things going wrong in this city. It seemed like the only way for people to work together was if there was a Blight or great catastrophe going on, or until they messed everything up enough, like these tension between Mages and Templars.

"I brought as many healing supplies as I could, I pray this will help these poor souls." Elthina said with genuine concern and care.

"I'm sure every soul here is indebted to you." Sebastian praised thankfully. "And you were even able to get the mages and Templars to work together towards a common goal, as they should. Maker bless all that you're doing."

"Fuck the Maker!" Aedan barked viciously. "If he actually gave a shit about what's going on right now, he'd have stopped this from happening!"

Elthina sighed sadly. She had already knew this young man had so much anger, and this incident certainly did not endear him to the Maker. "Hero, I understand that you are angry, but this is..."

"Shut up, old woman! This has nothing to do with you or your wretched god!" Aedan interrupted furiously. "What I want to know is what the fuck just happened!? This was supposed to be a peaceful event, and then some asshole turned it into a goddamn shit-storm! Now, I want some fucking answers, and I want them now!"

This was Hawke's burden. He failed to stop the attack, therefore he was responsible, and would bare the news to the visiting Hero. "It was my fault. I found out someone was going to attack your summit. I found the attacker and took him down. I thought I stopped him, but I was so wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"He wasn't there to carry out the attack, but to make sure that the actual attacker fulfilled his mission." Hawke answered shamefully. "My mistake cost these people their lives."

"Where is this collaborating piece of shit now?" Aedan demanded.

"We have him in a holding cell, and we're going to interrogate him for answers as soon as I get back there." Aveline answered firmly.

"Give him to me, I'll get the answers I want out of him!" Aedan demanded threateningly.

"Excuse me?" Aveline asked. That was a demand she had never heard before

"You heard me!" Aedan growled like a rabid animal. "This piece of shit, I want him. Anyone he conspired with, I want them. And I'm going to show them just what it means to fuck with Ferelden. Give them to me, or I will take them myself!"

Varric didn't envy Aveline's position right now, less so than normal. If he were in her position right now, Varric would have given the Hero what he wanted, then run away as fast as he could, but that wasn't Aveline's style. She stood her ground, and wasn't going to be pushed around in her own city.

"I'm sorry, but that's not going to happen." Aveline rejected defiantly. "I understand how you feel, but I cannot allow to just go around kill people at your own whim. There are laws we must adhere to."

"What you allow, Guard-Captain, isn't my concern. And if this attack is any indication, your laws, and your ability to reinforce them are meaningless!" Aedan rebutted heatedly. "I do not make idle threats, only severe promises. If you won't hand him over to me, I will take him from you and trample any sorry bastard who get in my way!"

Hawke stepped in to back up his friend. While he shared Aedan's anger, he knew that this was not the way to resolve this problem. "Aveline's right, Aedan. You cannot just go around taking justice into your hands. If anything, the people here need to see that the law is capable of protecting them, otherwise we they won't trust us, and we'll have nothing but chaos."

"Chaos?! Look around you, Sergeant, chaos is all around us!" Aedan shouted, his eyes burning red with rage. "You've already stood in my way once, I will not tolerate it again. If you stand in my way, I'll make you move!"

Hawke returned Aedan's angry glare and stood up to him. He would not be threatened by anyone. "I don't move for anyone. Especially not in my own city. But you're welcome to try and see how far you get."

Once again, Varric felt that odd sensation of fear and excitement crawl up his spine like a spider. Seeing these two powerful, famous warriors squaring off with each other, neither one of them willing to bend or back down to the other. Varric was no professor, but even he knew that when an unstoppable force met an immovable object, everything else gets destroyed. This recent explosion would be nothing compared to the crater that used to be a city if these two actually fought.

The tension was felt by everyone within the immediate vicinity of the Champion and the Hero. Sebastian urged the Grand Cleric behind him while Anders made sure none of the injured would be caught in the middle. Aveline and her men stood ready, though the fear in her guards' eyes was obvious. Fenris' hand rested on his greatsword, while Merrill and Isabela were ready to leap to their lover's defense at the drop of a hat with magic and steel. Aedan's squires, Bevin and Amythene, and all his knights stood ready for a fight with their hands reaching for their weapons, and none would hesitate for a moment to spill blood for their commander.

Varric wished there was something that could resolve this, but right now, it looked like the only way this was going to end was in blood.

"Brother?" Said a warm, welcoming voice that was so familiar to them all. Bethany came running up to her beloved brother and embraced him happily. It had been far too long since she could hug another member of her family without being locked behind walls. "When I heard about what happened, I was so worried. But of course you're alright, you always are."

All concerns for the Hero's threats left Hawke's mind and he returned his sister's hug. He wished it didn't take some sort of crisis to be reunited with his sister. And as if by some miracle, the rage that possessed Aedan's eyes melted away and were replaced by a strange sense of familiarity at the sight of the younger Hawke sibling.

"What are you doing here, Bethany?" Hawke asked happily.

"I'm on the mages the Grand Cleric called for to help tend to the injured."

"It's you...Bethany?" Aedan recalled in disbelief.

Bethany turned her attention to the man who just now was threatening her brother and shared his shock and disbelief. "You? Ser Aedan? You're the Hero of Ferelden? I...heard your name said many times, but I didn't think you were the same person. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. After all, they did say the Hero of Ferelden passed through Lothering after the battle of Ostagar."

Now it was Hawke's turn to be surprised. "You...know this man, Bethany?"

"Yes. Before you and Carver got back from Ostagar, this man saved me from the bandits who were preying on refugees." Bethany remembered vividly. "He even escorted me home to Mother, and she thanked him for what he did."

Realization came over of Aedan like a blanket, and all traces of his anger disappeared. "Then...you...you're Leandra's son, and your father's name was Malcolm."

"How do you know that?" Hawke asked. How could the Hero have known that?

Aedan motioned his men to stand down, and everyone felt like they could breathe easy now.

"So be it." Aedan sighed, feeling genuine shame for his actions. "We'll do this your way, Sergeant. I won't interfere with your methods."

That surprised everyone, especially Hawke. Not even a minute ago, the Hero of Ferelden was ready to kill all of them just to take their prime suspect. Now, after all that drama, Aedan Cousland, the most warlike dog-lord alive, was willing to back off?

"I don't understand." Hawke stated confused. "A moment ago, you were willing to start a fight for getting in your way, now you're willing to just stand down? Why? What does this have to do with my mother and sister?"

"I owe your mother a great debt." Aedan answered softly. "She...gave me the power I needed to save our country. So, in honor of your mother, and what she did for our country, I will yield to your authority on this matter. I will not interfere with your investigation." Aedan turned away from the Champion, all traces of his anger gone, and resumed his duties to tending to the wounded.

Hawke was left in a state of confusion. What did the Hero of Ferelden mean? Hawke had met the Hero years ago back at Ostagar before the darkspawn slew King Cailan, but he never knew his family was acquainted with him. Just what did his mother do for him? And why didn't he hear about this until now?

"Bethany? How come you never told me about any of this?" Hawke asked deeply vexed.

"Well, with everything that happened at the time, it slipped my mind." Bethany answered honestly. "And besides, and didn't even know he was a Grey Warden, or that the two of you had even met."

"Ahem. Now that we've got this little issue resolved, maybe we want to deal with the matter at hand?" Aveline insisted urgently. "Time is a desperate factor here."

"Would you like to come with us, Bethany? We could use you on a mission like this?" Hawke asked hopefully. At this point, he would use any excuse to get his sister out of the Gallows.

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Champion. Your sister and all these mages are to return to the Gallows immediately after they are done helping here." Answered the civil but unwelcome voice of a certain Templar that made Hawke even angrier than when Aedan threatened him. Cullen could sense the enmity from Hawke, but made the effort to remain respectful.

"Cullen. I thought I smelled hypocrisy. Must have been Meredith rubbing off on you." Hawke said disrespectfully. "What're you doing here?"

Cullen did his best to ignore the Champion remarks and remain civil. "I'm a part of the detail assigned to escort these mages while they're in the city."

"And, of course, Meredith can't let these mages go anywhere without any oversight." Hawke said with contempt. "Maker forbid that any mage be allowed to use their gifts freely to help anyone...!"

Bethany placed her hand on her brother's arm in an attempt to calm his anger on her behalf. "Garret, please. This isn't the time or place."

"You're sister has a point, Sergeant. You have a mission to carry out." Aedan reminded.

A sense of shock erupted in Cullen's eyes, and he straightened himself out and stood at attention as though he were about to inspected by a superior officer. He even began to stammer nervously over his words like he was some wet-nosed recruit instead of Meredith's Knight-Captain.

"Lord Cousland. It-it's a t-tremendous honor to meet you again, Ser." Cullen saluted respectfully.

Aedan quirked a quizzical eyebrow at the stuttering blonde man in a skirt in front of him like he was a walking freakshow. "I'm sorry, who're you?"

"M-my name is Cullen Rutherford. I was one of the Templars you rescued back in Kinloch hole, when the Circle was taken overrun by demons." Cullen reminded enthusiastically.

"Really? I don't remember." Aedan dismissed uninterested.

"Well, I remember you. I couldn't forget that moment." Cullen continued. "You saved me from Uldred's insanity. I would be dead or insane if it weren't for you. I...never did properly thank you for what you did."

"That's nice." Aedan said with sarcastic disinterest. "Imagine what the life of a Templar means to me. Short answer: not a damned thing. Now, if you're done wasting my time, I've got better things to do than listen to you bump you gums."

Aedan turned his back on Cullen, leaving the Templar in a stunned stat. Cullen wondered what he did to offend the Hero of Ferelden before shortly remembering that in this day and age, Templars did not have the same respect they were due for the duties they performed. He thought that, perhaps, the Hero of Ferelden might have understood that burden, but it appeared that wasn't the case. Cullen supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. After all, it was a widely known fact that the Hero of Ferelden was involved with a raven-haired apostate during the Blight, and that, no doubt, set him against the standards of the Chantry.

"Amythene, Bevin, I want you to do everything you can for these people. Whatever it takes." Aedan ordered his squires. "Use our stores and supplies if you need to."

"Understood, Commander." Bevin saluted.

"We'll do whatever it takes." Amethyne assured.

"Petra, I want you to assist the injured, use whatever spells you deem necessary, but save as many of these people as you can. And if any of these Templars are stupid enough to interfere, tell them who's got you back."

Petra nodded her head in acknowledgment. "I'll set to it immediately, Commander. The healing, not the threatening."

~XoXoXo~

Merrill and Anders continued to use their magic to provide healing to the injured. Their considerable skill, combined with the mages Elthina brought, they were able to save many of the injured, but sadly, there were still more dead. Despite the circumstances, this is what Anders wished to see: mages being allowed to walk in the world, to practice their magic for the betterment of others, instead of being locked away like criminals as if their being born with magic was a crime. But the presence of the Templars watching them with their suspecting, hateful eyes reminded Anders that this was merely a temporary thing. Just as like anything else, when they were done here, the Templars would corral them back into the cages at the Circle and forget any good they have done, and resume their abuse. Anders wished that the world could see the good mages could do, what they could accomplish without having to be shoved into a Circle like prisoners, but that would never happen so long as people like Meredith remained.

The former Grey Warden went over to assist the mage under Aedan's command. She was trying to heal a man who lost his left eye and arm in the explosion, and looked like she could use some assistance. While helping her with the healing, Anders unintentionally looked at the younger mage with a quizzical look on his face. As if she were familiar to him. She was a bit younger than he was, and very lovely to look at. With gentle brown eyes, auburn hair held in a ponytail, and smooth features, it was a wonder she wasn't married. "I remember you...from the Circle in Ferelden. You were Wynn's apprentice!"

"Yes. And I remember you, as well." Petra replied, a look of dislike on her face pointed right at Anders. "Every mage back in the Fereldan Circle remembers you, and how every time you escaped, the rest of us, who actually liked the Circle, had to pay for it. Thanks for that, by the way."

"What can I say, Circle life isn't for everyone." Anders defended nonchalantly. "You should know that, if you're serving with the Hero of Ferelden. How did something like that happen?"

"It wasn't very complicated or eventful, if that's what you're thinking. Not all encounters or recruitments are made in life threatening situations or by chance." Petra rebutted. "The Commander needed a healer to serve in the Silver Order, and he remembered that I was one of Wynne's students when he saved the Circle. He asked me to join, and couldn't turn down such an opportunity. Wynne gave it her all, and as her student, I felt I should do the same."

"Well, it's good to see other mages putting their talents to good use." Anders complimented genuinely.

"And speaking of putting talents to good use, maybe you should stop talking and get back to helping." Petra suggested. Anders took the hint and resumed what he was supposed to be doing.

~XoXoXo~

Aveline refused to take her eyes of the Hero of Ferelden. She was still more than a little bit put off by what his actions back in Lowtown. Aveline had heard the stories surrounding Aedan Couslands reputation, but she thought they were mostly embellishments, like the bullshit Varric tells to the drunks at the Hanged Man. But seeing what he was like back in Lowtown made her wonder if the stories were actually true. Who better to ask than someone whose actually worked alongside the Hero of Ferelden?

"Anders, you served directly under Aedan, yes?" Aveline asked curiously.

"I believe that's been established an established fact for years now, Guard-Captain." Anders shrugged.

"Well, I was merely wondering...are the stories they say about him true?"

"And which stories might that be, Aveline?" Anders chuckled. "They say a lot of things about the Hero of Ferelden, and even I still have a hard time believing them."

"You know. That he's..." Aveline looked over to Aedan to make sure he wasn't listening while shielded her mouth from him and lowered her voice to a whisper. "That he's...a cannibal?"

Anders shuddered like a ghost just passed him at the question and swallowed a fearful lump in his throat. Thinking about those days still gave him the shivers. "I...cannot say if those rumors are true or not. But I will say this: Aedan Cousland is the most fearsome, savage, and merciless warlord to ever come out of Ferelden. The things I saw him do when I served under him still give me nightmares, and I was only with him for a short time. I have no idea what he did during the Blight."

The memory of Anders almost being strangled to death in Aedan's merciless grip was still fresh in their minds. The only reason why Anders wasn't dead with his neck snapped like a chicken bone, was because Hawke stopped him, and declared Aedan's actions as dishonorable.

"I was in Denerim during the Blight when he arrived there." Isabella recalled. "To see how Loghain and Howe's men reacted just from saying his name, you'd think the man was the Archdemon. I've known pirates who've raided for decades and never got that kind of respect."

"Oh, he can't be all that bad." Merrill said sympathetically. "You saw all those people who came to see him in Lowtown, there must be something good about him. They call him Hero after all."

"I'm afraid I must agree with Merrill." Sebastian spoke out. Which surprised everyone considering how much Aedan detested the Chantry. "Rumors are always worse than what they truly are. I don't think anyone is as evil as other people claim."

"All rumors, no matter how far fetched, have some truth to them. After all, they need to start somewhere." Fenris said in his usual morose tone. "You don't get to be as powerful as he is without stepping on others along the way."

"It's weird. I always pictured the Hero of Ferelden carrying a valiant sword." Varric expressed somewhat disappointed. "You know, something gallant and heroic-looking, something that could inspire whole armies to follow him just by looking at the sun reflect off its blade. Instead, he's just got an axe. Any duster in Orzammar could swing a weapon like that. Very uninspiring."

"Actually, the Commander once did wield a sword. It was a kind of weapon that can only be seen once in all of history. A sword named Vigilance." Anders recalled vividly. "It was forged from the bones of an ancient High Dragon by the famous weapon smith Master Wade, exactly to Aedan's specifications. But I think the only thing that weapon could possibly inspire is fear and terror, especially when it was in Aedan Cousland's hand." Anders thought back to when he saw Aedan wield Vigilance in defense of Amaranthine, and just thinking about it still made him feel awed by what that man could. "Truly, it was a sword that could make a legend out of anyone who held it."

"Wow. I gotta admit, Blondie, you told that tale pretty damned well." Varric complimented, genuinely impressed, and eager to hear more. "So...? What happened to the sword."

An uncomfortable look twisted on Anders' face as he recalled Vigilance's fate. "It was...stolen not even a few months after the Amaranthine Crisis, by Antivan Crows. They heard about the power of his sword and wanted it for themselves. Later we got word that the Crows in turn lost it and it all but disappeared...He really, really doesn't like talking about it."

"No, I do not. So maybe you people wanna try doing something useful instead of gossiping about me like I'm not even here!" Aedan shouted at them rather irritated. "Seriously! I'm not even twelve yards from you idiots and you're talking like I'm not even in the same city as you. Oh, and Guard-Captain Aveline," Aedan flashed her a rather toothy and sinister grin. "if you want to talk about my eating habits, you should come over here and ask me yourself."

Every one of them froze in equal parts horror and embarrassment. Suddenly they all wished they were back were fighting something right now, instead of making themselves look like a troupe of jackasses.

"Ahem. Maybe we should get to the barracks now, and see what we can learn from our suspect." Aveline suggested earnestly.

"Yeah. Preferably before the Hero of Ferelden starts getting hungry." Varric agreed hurriedly.

~XoXoXo~

Hawke and his companions made their way to the barracks where Garth was being held in their cells. After that scene the Hero of Ferelden caused, the tensions were still high amongst Hawke's companions. Fenris and Aveline were still mad at the Hero for the way he spoke to them both since he arrived, and Anders would rather be in the Deep Roads right now than even be in the same city as Aedan Cousland. Varric was wishing they fixing yet another problem, because this situation they were in was a writer's dream come true. Two legendary heroes in the same city, both being targeted by a secretive group that was out to destroy them, it was a literary goldmine! Merrill and Isabella stayed close to Hawke; after seeing the Hero of Ferelden get threatening with him, it was only natural for them to feel protective of their man.

Hawke, on the other hand, couldn't really care less about Aedan Cousland right now.. He had more important things to worry about than the Hero of Ferelden's temper. He wanted answers, and he wanted them right now. Hawke wanted to know who was responsible for this attack and why, so that Aveline could hang them before the week was out.

When they arrived at the barracks, they were greeted by Aveline's husband, Donnic, who was more than relieved to see his wife unharmed.

"I'm so glad you're unharmed." Donnic sighed gladly, and embraced his wife.

"I'm alright, Donnic, but so many people are not." Aveline said hugging her husband back. "Has the suspect ready for questioning?"

Donnic flashed his wife and commander a confused look. "Wait, you're talking about Garth? What does he have to do with this?"

"You know that kid, Donnic?" Hawke inquired.

"A little. He and I are from the same neighborhood. I know his mother." Donnic answered, still confused. "He's a good kid."

"Not quite so good as you think. This boy was involved with the bombings that just happened in Lowtown." Fenris stated damningly.

That bit of news hit Donnic like a club to the face. "What? That can't...The suspect is ready for you in the holding cells, Captain. Will there be anything else?" Any pity Donnic might have had was replaced by his sense of duty to the Kirkwall Guard and his wife.

"No, Donnic. Resume your post."

Donnic saluted his Guard-Captain dutifully and followed his orders.

"Hawke, I want you to be here for this. You heard what his friend was saying in the tavern, and you brought him down. Maybe you can get some answers out of him." Aveline requested.

"Alright, but let's be careful. His friend bit his own tongue off before giving us any real answers." Hawke recalled grimly. "Garth seemed just as devoted to this cause of theirs."

"Agreed."

Aveline and Hawke entered the cell, ready to do what they had to for answers. The instant they walked through that door, a newfound sense of horror pierced their hearts like a lance.

"Sweet Andraste!" Aveline gasped in shock.

"Anders, get in here now!" Hawke yelled urgently.

Anders and the others ran into the holding cell and found what was distressing them so badly. There was nothing Anders, or any mage could do. Garth had hung himself from his cell bars with his own shirt.

Hawke cut the misguided boy's body down and set him on the ground with dignity. First Randall, now Garth. Hawke couldn't understand this. Why? Why would they throw their lives away? Was their loyalty to hatred to great that even their own lives didn't matter? Donnic came running in and was horrified by the sight.

"Oh, holy Maker...What am I going to tell his mother?" Donnic said sadly. "He was a good lad! Why would he do this!?"

"Suicide is a sin in the eyes of the Maker." Sebastian said full of sympathy and regret for the misguided youth. "Still, even he deserves the proper rites."

"I doubt his victims would feel the same." Fenris scoffed.

"If the Hero of Ferelden is any indication, being hanging himself was probably the smart decision." Isabela pointed out casually. "All those pissed of Fereldans back in Lowtown would probably have ripped him apart if they could."

"But why would he do it?" Merrill asked, sadly looking at the poor young man. "We wouldn't have hurt him. Why take his own life?"

"Because he knew we wanted answers, Daisy. And tightly knit groups, like the Carta and some others, would rather kill themselves than talk or betray their accomplices." Varric stated knowledgably.

"Maybe we should have handed him to the Hero of Ferelden." Isabella looked back in hindsight. "Garth wouldn't have had the chance to take his own life. Now all you've got is just another dead body."

Hawke shook his head depressed at the situation, but he wasn't ready to stop now, or take the time to feel sorry for Garth. There was still work to be done. "Let's get him into the coroner's office. See what he can tell us."

"Unless you plan to have one of the Merrill somehow resurrect this bastard with her bloodmagic, I don't think he's going to be telling us anything anytime soon." Fenris said with doubtful contempt.

"Just because one is dead, doesn't mean he can't be helpful." Hawke assured.

Aveline's men set to the task and set Garth's dead body on the coroner's table. Now it was time for Hawke to do what he did he best: get answers. While most people merely thought of Hawke as a great warrior and protector, many didn't know that Hawke got where he was now thanks to his sharp analytic skills. Over the years, Hawke made quite a reputation for himself in Kirkwall as a detective and problem solver, and this skill set is what made him so useful for helping with the city's many crimes, and even made the base for Varric's Hard in Hightown book series.

Everyone waited outside the cell while Hawke conducted his investigation. Many things were going through their minds right now from all the turbulent and bloody events that had just transpired in the last few hours. What should have been a joyous occasion for so many quickly turned into a horrible nightmare. Who was behind all this, and why would they slaughter so many? Did this have something to do with Aedan Cousland's arrival in Kirkwall? What manner of explosives did they use to cause so much carnage? There were many questions. Right now, all they could do was hope Hawke could find some answers.

"Everyone, come in here, I think I've got some answers." Called Hawke from the cell room. All his companions breathed a sigh of relief. They were eager to get back on track and forget this embarrassing moment.

Hawke had stripped Garth's body down to his skivvies, and everyone gathered around the table to see his findings on the recently deceased young man. Most of them looked at the boy's body with sympathy, but it was apparent that Aedan really couldn't care less about him. As far as he was concerned, he was just another dead enemy.

"So, Hawke, what have you found?" Aveline asked eager for answers.

"You see this tattoo on his right hand?" Hawke pointed to the illustration on the back of Garth's palm that depicted a severed dog head with a sword shoved through it.

"Yeah, I remember. Garth's buddy had the same one." Varric recalled.

"The ink still looks fresh. It had to have been done this week." Fenris pointed out. The tattoos may not have been lyrium, but even Fenris could see that detail.

"If Garth and Randall were working together, then it's probably a gang mark." Aveline surmised.

"Not just any gang mark, Aveline. Don't you recognize this?" Hawke asked, but Aveline didn't know. "This was the tag that the Dog-Lord Slayers used to identify their members."

"The Dog-Lord Slayers? Andraste's ass, I haven't heard that name in a while." Varric exclaimed, fully surprise.

"Is that some sort of street gang?" Sebastian asked curiously.

"Bunch of small-time thugs who plagued Lowtown a few years ago. Most of them were Anti-Fereldens who liked to plague on refugees." Hawke recollected vividly. "As I recall, you had to beat a Fereldan senseless as an initiation. Hence Dog-Lord Slayers. Not a very imaginative name, but I doubt these racist bastards had much in the way of brain power."

Aveline shook her head wearily. "I barely remember them Hawke. They were so petty and not around long enough for me to even remember. Were they one of the gangs you got rid of for those...friends of friends?"

"Yes."

"I remember the day we took care of those pricks." Isabella remembered fondly. "The Friends of Red Jenny paid us a pretty penny when we got rid of them. I spent all that coin over at the hat shop in Hightown. Aww, money well spent."

"How do you go from petty thugs to hardened terrorist?" Fenris inquired. "Those thugs weren't even minnows compared to the other gangs in this city. This is not the same group we faced before."

"No, it isn't. They're something far worse." Hawke confirmed grimly. "When I confronted Garth on the roof, his movements and technique were impeccable. Some kind of specialized training, not common foot soldier techniques. Someone trained him to fight, to be a killer. Not only that, they supplied the Slayers with top tier equipment. Look at this." Hawke grabbed the sword that Garth had so recently used to try and kill him with. It was a simple blade, but of obvious high quality. It reflected the light of the room like a mirror, and Hawke gave it few test swings that made the blade sing when it cut the air. "This is an authentic dwarven steel blade, and not the kind you would find here on the surface. This weapon was made in Orzammar."

Hawke pointed to the maker's mark on the base of the blade, and confirmed his claim. The mark was a dwarven pictograph in the shape of a helmet, made in the traditional dwarven geometric design. Seeing such weapons was more common in Ferelden or Orlais, but it was extremely rare to see them in the Free Marches.

"That's impossible!" Varric asserted firmly, even though the evidence was right in front of him. "There's no way a self-respecting Smith from Orzammar would ever sell good steel to the likes of these nug-humpers. Even if he did, these guys wouldn't be able to afford it."

"And his armor, it's the same kind of quality Orlesian bards use when they're committing assassinations." Hawke pointed out.

"But it doesn't make any sense, Hawke." Anders maintained. Having to deal with both the Carta and Coturie every day in Darktown, he knew what it took to be a real gangster in Kirkwall. "The Dog-Lord Slayers couldn't even try to compete with the major gangs in this city. There's no way they could ever afford such equipment or training."

"Then somebody is funding them." Aveline stated. "Using their agenda, or recruiting from them to attack Fereldans. Someone with money to spare and an axe to grind."

"None of this explains how they were able to blow up the rally." Sebastian pointed out despondently. "We didn't find any explosives, yet they were able to cause such devastation."

"I think I can answer that, Hawke." Merrill answered meekly. She wanted to help even though she was afraid to answer, but her desire to help Hawke was stronger than her insecurity. "When Anders and I were helping with the injured, I could sense the power that was lingering there. This attack was most certainly the work of a mage. It wasn't bloodmagic, but it was something very similar to it."

Fenris scoffed spitefully. He was not surprised. "Of course it was! Whenever there's trouble like this, you'll always find a mage behind it all. It figures that you of all people would know if bloodmagic was involved."

Hawke scowled at Fenris threateningly. He took exception to Fenris' to how he spoke towards Merrill. "Fenris, I suggest you watch your tone. So far, Merrill has contributed more to this catastrophe than you have. So maybe you should shut up."

"That's not possible. Sean was no mage!" Anders denied adamantly.

"Sean?" Hawke asked curiously.

"He...he was the bomb." Ander answered sadly. "I found him in the middle of the crowd, he looked like he was in terrible pain. He fell to his knees, and then he exploded! Like a keg of qunari black powder!"

"What can you tell us about Sean?"

"I remember him. He was on my list of missing persons." Aveline pointed out. "He was a Fereldan refugee, came to Kirkwall with his family to escape the Blight. A few weeks ago, he was approached for some long-term employment. He hasn't been seen since then."

"So how does our missing person go from being disappeared to right in the middle of a crowd of people, then blow up?" Varric asked confused.

"I don't know how he got there, but I think I know how they made a bomb out of him." Hawke answered grimly. "The School of Entropy."

Anders looked at the Champion with a serious look in her eyes. "That is not a very widely studied form of magic. How do you know about that school, Hawke?"

"My father, Malcolm, was a powerful apostate. He taught my sister everything she knows, and passed on some of his knowledge to me." Hawke answered. "He taught me that the School of Entropy uses spells that focus on decay, erosion and destruction. Focuses on attacking a person's life force. It's the closest thing a mage can get to bloodmagic without crossing that line. My father once told me of a spell that this school teaches is called the Walking Bomb. It uses the life force of the victim to create an explosion from the inside, and destroy everything around it. But I never thought it was this powerful."

"So you mean to tell me that there's someone out there making bombs out of people?!" Aveline asked aghast.

"More than that. It confirms my theory. Someone with a lot of power, influence and wealth is coordinating the Slayers in some sort of vendetta against Fereldans." Hawke affirmed knowledgably. "They scoop up a Fereldan refugee they think no one will miss, cast this spell on him to blow up the peace rally. They wanted Garth on that roof to confirm the attack was carried out. And, whoever is leading the Slayers now, they trained both Garth and Randall to commit suicide if they were ever captured, so they couldn't reveal their secrets."

Merrill placed her hands over her mouth in appalled shock. "Mythal'enaste! That's horrible!"

"How can anyone think of doing such a thing?" Sebastian asked with equal horror.

"Someone with a grudge against Fereldans, and against the Hero of Ferelden in particular." Hawke answered stoically.

Aveline raised an eyebrow curiously. "Oh? How do you figure that, Hawke?"

"Both Randall and Garth expressed a lot of hatred for both you and me, because we're Fereldans holding positions of rank and power. But Garth seemed particularly interested in seeing the rally the Hero of Ferelden was holding be destroyed." Hawke recalled clearly. "Garth even said that he wasn't there to see if Aedan was killed, but watch to watch him get what you deserve."

"Anders, can you think of anyone who might bare General Cousland a grudge?" Aveline asked earnestly.

A surprised laugh blurted out of Anders' mouth, like the question was ridiculous that it had to be funny. "Aveline, that man's got more enemies than some countries have people. Like Fenris said, you don't get to where he's at and do the things he's done without stepping on a lot of people."

"There anyone in particular who would really, really want you to see the Hero suffer?" Varric inquired.

"None of dire consequence. He killed all the ones that mattered. But then again, I wouldn't know. In the time I left, he could have made new enemies, and that's something he's very good at." Anders answered blithely. His response was more than a little disturbing to the rest of them. How often could that man have killed people?

Isabella shook her head irritably. This was a lot to take in at once. "There's still one thing I don't get: if all this is true, then why did Garth show up at the Hanged Man, drunk off his ass, spouting about his little club's big plan?"

Hawke shrugged, it confused him as well. All things considered, Randall getting drunk and angrily spouting at them was their first big break in this case. "I honestly have no idea. The way he spoke, the things he said. He truly believed in his heart that killing my countrymen was an honor."

"How could anyone possibly think that something as horrid as that could be an honor?" Sebastian asked dismally.

"Whoever is controlling the Slayers, they've...indoctrinated them into thinking that these actions are honorable. That this cause is one worth dying for. And if there are any others like him, then there will be more attacks, and they might be worse than what just happened."

Merrill placed her hand on Hawke's and looked up to him with determination in her green eyes. "How do we stop them, ma vhenan?"

Hawke smiled warmly at his elven lover. He always knew she would have his back. He grabbed the Garth's dwarven steel sword and held it confidently. "We follow the trail. See where that leads us. Varric. Whose the most powerful Carta boss in the region?"

"Uh, that'd be...Boss Barkas of House Cadash. Why?" Varric asked somewhat nervous.

"I need you to set a meeting with him. As quickly as possible."

~XoXoXo~

Varric was grudgingly able to use his connections within the Merchant Guild and called in a few favors from his Carta contacts to quickly arrange a meeting with Boss Barkas, against Varric's better judgment. Barkas agreed to meet with them, but it had to be as place of his choosing. That's why they were walking into the muck and stink of Darktown.

As the Guard-Captain of Kirkwall, Aveline couldn't be part of this meet unless she was going to arrest Barkas for his criminal activities. Sebastian also chose to stay behind, so that he could continue to help the Grand Cleric with the injured in Lowtown. Anders was certainly not pleased with having to go down to some abandoned quarry in Darktown to meet with the man who was probably responsible for all the shakedowns and racketeering that is forced on the people he's always healing. But none of them were more nervous than Varric was right now. He wasn't exactly keen on meeting one of the most ruthless crime boss of all the Carta families.

Hawke didn't really care at the moment how powerful or influential this Barkas Cadash was. If he knew something about the attack on Lowtown, Hawke wanted know what.

"What can you tell me about this Barkas Cadash, Varric?" Hawke asked curiously.

"Well, I guess since we're really doing this, you might as well know what you're getting into, Hawke." Varric sighed. He was not exactly fond of this idea. "House Cadash is one of the most powerful and ruthless of all the Carta families. Originally, House Cadash were of the Warrior Caste in Orzammar, very strong and very feared, even by the Assembly. After they were exiled a few generations ago, they quickly to set to work on carving themselves a place in the Carta by taking over a huge percentage of the lyrium smuggling trade, as well as getting goods from and to Orzammar. Those that opposed them didn't live very long to regret it."

"Any idea why they were exiled?"

"Who knows? Probably the usual: they pissed off the wrong people in the Assembly and the deshyrs didn't feel like putting up with them. Personally, I don't blame 'em!" Varric stated strenuously. "These guys make the Couturie look like a Chantry choir group."

"Sounds like just the people we're looking for then."

They arrived at the designated meeting place, the Carta was already waiting for them. Hawke had been fighting with the Carta virtually since he first arrived in Kirkwall. He usually fond them to be a bunch of ruthless, conniving thugs who would rather beat a problem to death than actually solve one. But theses dwarves were different. They were watching intently instead of glowering. The way they carried their weapons, the look they had in their eyes, even the way they stood revealed their discipline, their control. These Carta dwarves were more akin to soldiers than gangsters. If House Cadash were originally of the Warrior Caste, then their skill and discipline was still being carried on by their descendants. No wonder this clan was so powerful.

"Ah, the Champion of Kirkwall. And here I am without my autograph book. I always thought you'd be taller." One of the guards joked.

"Still taller than you, and that's what really matters." Hawke rebutted. "Now, maybe you can stop wasting my time by trying play the clever dwarf and direct me to your boss."

"Alright, human. S'your funeral." The carta dwarf chuckled. "The boss is waiting for you inside. Word of advice: don't try anything, because the boss picked a nice little sewer hole for us to dump you in if you try."

The guards led them inside the underground warehouse, where inside were even more armed guards. Either this Barkas was paranoid, or he wanted to show Hawke that he wasn't someone to be trifled with. Once inside they found a table standing in the middle of the room. Sitting at it was a dwarf who appeared to be waiting. He was an older man, with streaks of grey in his thick and intricately knotted hair and beard. He was dressed in the fashion of a dwarven noble, and had golden rings with precious stones set in them on each finger and even hanging in his beard. His eyes were grey and steely with decades of hardened experience behind them. Every pair of dwarven eyes in this building, including Varric's, looked at this man with respect. This must have been the Carta boss.

"Barkas Cadash of House Cadash, I presume." Hawke addressed respectfully.

"You presume correctly, Lord Hawke." The dwarven crime boss greeted with a stern but polite voice. Hawke sat himself on the other side of the table, ready to begin their talks. "Before we start, Champion, let me make this perfectly clear: I came here as a courtesy to Varric and the rest of House Tethras. I owed a favor to Bartrand, and when our meeting has concluded, I will considered that debt paid. Don't think that I'm unaware of your actions against the Carta."

"I'm sure my brother would have appreciated this." Varric assured.

"Sounds like we both want to get straight to the point, so I won't waste your time." Hawke pulled out the sword that brought him here. The carta men became alarmed at the sight of the Champion pulling a weapon on their employer and moved to act. Barkas raised his hand, signaling his men to stand down while Hawke placed the sword in front of him. "You recognize this this sword, Lord Cadash?"

Barkas glanced at the blade with his steely eyes before for a moment before turning his attention back to the Champion. "A sword, or so it would seem."

"Don't insult me, Cadash. I'm not in the mood for anyone else's bullshit today." Hawke shot back impatiently. "This is authentic Orzammar steel, and this here on the base of the blade...that's the mark of House Dural of the Smith Caste, who provide weapons to the Warrior Caste."

A deep chuckle erupted from Barkas' gut. He was actually impressed by this human's knowledge of dwarven society. "I'll give you this much, Champion, you certainly know your weapons."

"All the things I encounter here in this city, I've had to familiarize myself with every kind of type of weapon, armor, and fighting style in Thedas." Hawke responded honestly. "Apart from you lyrium smuggling business, your clan also corners the market of dwarven weaponry from Orzammar, probably from ties that your House made back when your Ancestors were of the Warrior Caste. You're the only one who could have sold weapons like these."

Barkas laughed, genuinely amused by this human. "I must admit, Champion, I am impressed, and at my age, I that rarely happens, even less so by humans. So what is it you want exactly? For me to sell to you?"

"Not exactly." Hawke asserted. "I want you to give the names of the people you sold these weapons to recently. It shouldn't be too hard, it would have been a very large order."

After a brief moment of awkward silence, and Varric being filled with enough anxiety to sink a ship, Geribor busted out laughing at the top of his lungs. Both his men and Varric were actually a little bit scared of what could possibly be laughing at, while Hawke just sat there quietly on his side of the table, his face unflinching.

"Oh, there's gall, and then there's damned gall!" Barkas guffawed and wiped a tear from his eye. "I don't know if I should shake your hand or kill you and feed your body to the rats. You come to me, on a favor for a dead man, who I didn't even like, and then you waste my time with something as pitiful as wanting to know who my buyers are like I'm obligated to give you that information. I don't even know how to respond to that."

Hawke smiled a cunning grin at the old dwarven crime lord, knowing that little ace up his sleeve. "Now, Lord Barkas, I wouldn't dream of arranging a meeting with a Carta Boss as powerful as you and not make it worth your time. I would never be that arrogant or insulting. My mother taught me better than that."

Barkas quirked an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Oh, is that so? An offer from the Champion of Kirkwall? Now, that is something that just might be worth my time. What could you possibly offer me to divulge such sensitive and profitable information?"

"A simple promise." Hawke answered stoically. Now he really had everyone's attention. "A promise that after you have told me what I want to know, you and your Carta will continue to eke out an existence living off crime, like the parasites of society that you are, and you will not be maimed, gored, impaled, eviscerated or eaten after today...if you tell me what I want."

The amused smile on Barkas' face was instantly wiped off and replaced by an infuriated scowl that was shared by his men. Barkas' men and Hawke's companions all began reaching for their weapons, ready for a fight to ensue.

"Careful, Champion." Barkas warned dangerously. "I only have so much humor, and my men and I do not take kindly to threats in the least bit."

"Oh, I'm not threatening you, Cadash, not in the least bit." Hawke assured, remaining calm and not in the least bit threatened. "I am merely stating a fact. Well, more of a prediction really. One that you would be wise to follow."

Barkas scoffed at Hawke's words. "A prediction? A prediction of what?"

"Your whole House's salvation, or it's destruction. But as to which one it will be depends entirely on you, and how you answer me." Hawke answered cryptically.

"What are talking about?" Barkas demanded, his limited patience being stretched thin.

"These weapons you sold, you sold them to a group of extremists called the Dog-Lord Slayers. They were the ones who attacked Lowtown today, got a lot of people hurt and killed."

Barkas scoffed off the whole notion as ridiculous. "Tch. I just sell the merchandise. What people do with the merchandise after they've bought it is none of my concern. And not even your friend, the Guard-Captain, has the authority, or even the power, to push on me for selling my wares to whoever can meet my price. So far, your predictions seem awfully inaccurate. So far you're not giving me a reason not to have my men gut you here and now."

"Save your threats, dwarf. I've killed more than enough Carta thugs to never be intimidated by them. Besides, I'm here to do you a favor, and you're not being very helpful." Hawke warned very threateningly. "You see, it's not me or the Guard-Captain you need to worry about. It's Aedan Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden, who's going to destroy you."

Hawke noticed some of Barkas' men shudder and falter at the mere mention of Aedan. Even a flash of hesitation, maybe even fear, came over the crime boss. Somehow, Hawke knew that would get their attention.

"Aedan Cousland? What...what does he have to do with this?" Barkas asked, he even sounded a little nervous.

"Didn't you hear? The rally that was blown up was being hosted by him, and now he's on the warpath, looking for those responsible. He decided to hold back on wiping anyone out until after I've investigated." It'd be a shame if I were to implicate you."

"I could have you killed right now, and there'd be no one to say anything." Barkas threatened.

"Hmm. You could try, but I know you'd fail, like every other gangster has when they tried to kill me." Hawke waved off unperturbed. "Besides, even if, by some farfetched miracle, you were able to somehow kill me, it wouldn't do you any good. I've already arranged with Guard-Captain Aveline to insure that if I don't return from our little talk, that she tells the Hero that the carta, your carta, was responsible for arming those responsible on the attack of our people. And I'm on a first-name basis with the Hero. I think you can imagine what he would do."

A profound, powerful silence came over the meeting place like a dark cloud. Hawke could feel the carta enforcers' discipline and resolve starting to disappear. Some of them were even trying to slink away into the shadows as if they wanted to escape the very mention of Aedan's name. Even the mighty Barkas Cadash was starting to break into a cold sweat.

"You remember Aedan Cousland did to the Carta back in Orzammar, don't you?" Hawke asked ominously. "How he stormed into the Carta's base, butchered every member that was stupid enough to stand between him and Jarvia. Jarvia, the most powerful of the Carta bosses, who even the Noble Caste were afraid of. He beat her to a bloody, crying pulp, and even when she begged for her life, Aedan Cousland cut her throat, ripper her head off with her spine still attached, then presented it to King Bhelen as a paperweight. Imagine what he could do to House Cadash?"

That last question gave Barkas pause, and Hawke could finally see that distinctive look of fear dancing in his eyes. The last shred of courage in the carta thugs' bodies finally shattered, and Hawke could see their knees starting to quake and their hands shivering.

"So what's it going to be, Cadash?" Hawke demanded seriously. "You can choose to answer my questions, and you and your clan can continue existing like the parasites of society that you are, or you can choose to suffer the Hero of Ferelden's wrath, and he will devour every last member of your House piece by piece, down to the last child. And the final epitaph for House Cadash will be 'they fucked with Aedan Cousland'. What's it going to be?"

Barkas Cadash, patriarch of the powerful House Cadash, one of the most feared and ruthless of all the Carta Bosses, gave into Hawke's terms, without a second thought. In the face of total annihilation at the hands of the Hero of Ferelden, answering a few questions for the Champion was an easy choice. "What do you want to know?"

"You sold a large order of dwarven weapons to a group called the Dog-Lord Slayers, correct?"

"Yes."

"How large?"

"Enough to outfit a small army." Barkas recalled the order very well. It wasn't very often anyone had the money to pay for that many weapons. "I could tell most of them were still green by how excited they were to finally have quality steel in their hands, like they had yet to actually get into a real fight."

"What can you tell me about them?"

"They're vicious little fucks, I can tell you that, but I think you knew it already." That statement coming from Barkas spoke volumes about the Slayers. "If it wasn't for the fact they needed my weapons, I think they'd rather take a dwarf's head than give them money. I was also very surprised that it was these so-called Slayers that approached me, or that they even had the money to buy anything. As I'm sure you know, the Slayers were nothing more than small-time minnows compared to the real muscle in this city, but over a month ago they approached my business wanting to make a deal, and acted as if they were ready to go to war."

"So who brokered the deal?"

"Most of them were rabble, from what I could tell. Whelps and pricks who probably had no business even holding a sword. But there was one amongst them who they all listened to..." Barkas' memory was still sharp, and he remembered faces very well, especially the ones he didn't like. "I could tell this guy was a professional killer, and he was the one who inspected the quality of the weapons, and, like you, he knew his weapons better than I know my own kids. But there was something off about him. All his underlings obeyed his every word, but it seemed like it was more out of fear than respect."

Hawke leaned forward, deeply interested and concerned about this mystery man. "What can you tell me about this man?"

"Not much, but he's not a man to be trifled with it seems; even his own men were scared of him." Barkas answered truthfully. "He was Orlesian, I could tell from his accent. He was no thug, either. He carried himself like a soldier, maybe even a Chevalier. He spoke of your people like they were more like animals than anything. But what I remember the most about him were those eyes. Hollowed and blank, like he was dead inside, with nothing but a spark of hate keeping them lit. I heard his men call him Renard."

"And this Renault, he was the one who brokered the deal?"

"He made sure that the deal went smoothly, but it was another man who did the buying and the talking, a Free Marcher. He was an arrogant pig of a man, his compatriot didn't seem to like him, but the other Slayers hung on his every word like he was Andraste's mouthpiece. He was the one who paid for the Slayers' weapons and armor." Geribor answered.

"I need a name, Barkas!" Hawke shouted impatiently.

"Jeven. He said his name was Jeven."

That name rang in Hawke's head like a Chantry bell being beaten with a war hammer. He came here for a lead, and by the Maker, he got one. "Do you know where I can find him?"

"Word in the underground is that he's holding some kind of anti-Ferelden hate rally in another part in an abandoned quarry to recruit some new blood. It's going down tonight. I can draw you a map."

One of Barkas' men handed his boss a pen and paper, and the old crime lord jotted down a set of simple direction and handed them to Hawke. A small smile appeared on Hawke's face at the sight of the directions. "This is exactly what I needed to hear, Barkas. Thank you."

Hawke got up from his seat and made his way out of there with the rest of his companions. His purpose here was done, and now he wanted to get out of this shit-smelling sewer.

"Wait!" Barkas beseeched to the Champion's back. "The Hero of Ferelden, he...he won't hear any of this, will he?" There was a twinge of fear in Geribor's voice, and Hawke could feel all of the other carta dwarves waiting breathlessly for an answer.

"He won't even know you exist." Hawke assured without even glancing back at Barkas. He heard all the dwarves present breathe a collective sigh of relief, now that they know one of the worst fates that could ever befall them wasn't going to happen.

~XoXoXo~

None of them said a word until they were well out of Darktown. Every single on of Hawke's companions couldn't believe what had just transpired. Given all their previous encounters with the Carta, especially back in that Grey Warden prison, and the fact they were meeting a powerful Carta boss, they all thought this encounter would begin and end. Instead, they got what they needed, and every carta duster in there was willing to sing like a Chantry choir member to make sure Hawke got what he wanted. To say this was a surprise was a massive understatement.

"Andraste's firm tits, Hawke!" Varric finally exclaimed, no longer able to contain his disbelief or how astonished he was. "I've been avoiding that guy for most of my life because of how scary he was! Barkas Cadash is one of the most feared and ruthless Carta lords alive, and just waltzed in there and made him spill his guts like scared kid who was threatened with the boogeyman. Reminder me never to play a game of Wicked Grace with you again."

"Using the Hero of Ferelden as a threat? If I were him, I'd be flattered." Isabella complimented.

"For such hardened criminals to act the way they did; it makes me wonder just what kind of man this Hero of Ferelden truly is." Fenris commented curiously.

"Right now, I'd be more concerned about the man who bought those weapons." Anders said anxiously. "I have no idea who this Renault is, but Jeven? I remember him alright."

"Wasn't he the one who used to have Aveline's job?" Merrill recalled.

"Yes, then he was disgraced and arrested when we found out that he was involved with the Coturie." Hawke remembered that day clearly, and all the death threats and Fereldan slurs he spouted at Aveline while Jeven's own men took him away in chains. "I thought he was still in prison. If Jeven's involved, we need to let Aveline know immediately."

Isabella nodded her head in excited agreement. "Well, let's not keep her waiting. I can't wait to see what Lady Man-Hands does to a bent guard turned terrorist."

~XoXoXo~

Hawke and the others made their way back to Hightown, hoping to leave the stench of the undercity behind them, and proceeded to the Vicount's Keep where the City Guard Barrack's was stationed. They had to get this information to Aveline quickly. But as they made their way to the Keep, Aveline herself came rushing down the way to meet them, and she had a very worried look on her face. All of them knew that if Aveline was disturbed, then they all probably in trouble.

"Hawke! Thank the Maker you're here." Aveline exclaimed worriedly. "I hope you've found something. Things have just taken a turn for the worse."

"Oh, great. Now what." Varric groaned into his hands.

"Aveline, has something else happened?" Hawke asked concerned.

"While you were gone, and the rest of us were tending to our own tasks, that mage in the Silver Order who was helping the Circle mages, Petra? She's disappeared." Aveline answered. "Her comrades looked for her, but found nothing, and they all refuse to believe that she simply wandered off. General Cousland is furious, and he's blaming the Templars. He went over to the Chantry to demand that Elthina do something about this."

"Why didn't he just go to you?"

"I tried to reason with him, but he knows that I have no jurisdiction over the Templars, and have less means of even knowing where Petra is." Aveline looked to her friend beseechingly, her face full of worry. "Hawke, General Cousland is already outraged about the attack in Lowtown and all the people that were hurt. Now someone under his command has been taken, and I can't say that his anger in unjustified. But if we don't do something, I don't think the city will survive the destruction the Hero will bring."

"Do you truly think his anger is justified?"

Aveline sighed heavily. She didn't want to admit it, but there was no denying it, either. "He came here looking to help his people and bring them home, only for someone to attack them, maiming and killing many. Now, someone under his command is missing, and given the reputation of the Templars here, his suspicions are not unfounded. Twice now, in the same day, someone has made an assault against him. If I were in his position, I doubt I could overlook such an insult. But my concern is that this could turn into an international incident. Kirkwall has only just began recovering from the Qunari invasion, we cannot afford a conflict with Ferelden."

"You're right, Aveline. A disaster from the Hero of Ferelden could leave what's left of Kirkwall in a giant, smoldering crater. We need to see if we can head this off."

An small idea came to Hawke's mind when he recalled a small fact about the Hero he had completely forgotten. It might have seemed insignificant to some, but Hawke had a feeling this might buy them some much needed time and even grace. "Merrill, I want you to go back to the house, and have Bodahn and Sandal bring my other weapons. Have them meet us as the Chantry."

"I'll do it, ma vhenan." Merrill promised.

~XoXoXo~

Hawke, Aveline and the rest of them hurried over to the Kirkwall Chantry, where half the Knights of the Silver Order were waiting outside. As they entered they noticed almost all of the Chantry sisters and brothers were clinging to the walls and shadows, doing their best not to be noticed, and quaking in fear. It was as if they were trying to hide from some monster that broke into their sacred walls. Seeing as Aedan Cousland was standing at the altar, yelling so loudly the whole Chantry boomed with his voice, right at Grand Cleric Elthina. Sebastian stood faithfully by her side, angrily glaring at the Hero, but remained silent as Elthina did. Aedan's squires, Bevin and Amythene stood behind their commander, both of them looking outraged themselves. If they were capable of being as angry as their commander, they certainly would be, but no one was capable of matching Aedan Cousland's anger.

"WHERE IS SHE!?" Aedan fumed like a thunderstorm.

"Lord Cousland, please, calm down." Elthina beseeched unperturbed.

"Fuck calm! Someone blows up my fucking rally with my countrymen right in the middle, and now one of your fucking Templars takes my mage, and you want be to be calm!? Fuck you!"

"Please, Lord Cousland, at least show some decorum, this is a Chantry!" Sebastian berated deeply offended by the man's behavior. "As Fereldan noble, even you must have that much respect."

Aedan hocked in his throat and angrily spat on the statue of Andraste that looked over the entire Chantry. Several Chantry sisters screamed in horror while some fainted at the sight of such blasphemy. Even Hawke was shocked at such a sight.

"There's your respect, right there!" Aedan shouted viciously, pointing to the splatter of spit on Andraste's feet. "Now stop wasting my time with your bullshit, and start doing your job!"

"How dare you!?" Sebastian demanded. Furious and outraged at the Hero's heresy, he stepped up to Aedan's behavior. Aedan shoved the Starkhaven Prince so hard Sebastian was sent flying off his feet and into a wall, knocking the wind out of him.

"Stay out of this, boy! You're betters are talking." Aedan seethed.

Elthina looked over to Sebastian, shocked and horrified what was happening right before her very eyes. How could anyone be so violent?

"Please, Lord Cousland, there is no need for this disgraceful behavior." The Grand Cleric berated sternly, refusing to give into her fear of the angry Fereldan general. "Your actions shame your rank and your country."

"Don't even think about talking to me about what shame is, woman. You have to earn the right to do that." Aedan growled. "First the attack on my people, now your Templars take my mage? This is the final insult I'll suffer in this fucking city."

"How do you know it was the Templars who did this?" Elthina asked defensively.

"Because we saw several Templars asking her for her aid with some injured in an alley. Being a healer, and a former Circle mage, she obliged." Bevin answered sternly.

"Obviously, we didn't trust the Templars, so we followed after them." Amythene added. "But when we entered the alley, those Templars and Petra were gone. Just disappeared. Then the other Templars called the Circle mages back to the Gallows."

Elthina remained composed, but it was obvious that this news disturbed her. "Lord Cousland, I can assure you that no Templar here could have done such a reckless and reprehensible thing."

"Bullshit! This city and its Templars are famous for the shitty way it treats its mages, and you're a fool or a liar to say otherwise." Aedan rebuffed. "Now, I want Petra back, and I mean right now."

Elthina tried to reason with the Hero. "It's not that simple, Lord Cousland..."

"The fuck it isn't. The Templars answer to the Chantry, and you're the highest ranking Chantry official in this shithole of a city." Aedan interrupted rudely. He towered over the old woman with a threatening gleam in his eyes. "Kick your Templars asses, get me my mage back. Otherwise, I'm going to go over to the Gallows myself, and I'm taking her back. And trust me, woman, that little Qunari invasion you had will seem like a warmly received exchange of ideas by the time I'm done!"

"Lord Cousland, please..." Elthina reached out, but Aedan's mind was made up.

"You have two hours." Aedan dictated with finality. He and his squires turned from the Grand Cleric, ready to follow through with the promise that was just made.

Aveline and Hawke knew they had to step in now. This city was already on the verge of self-destruction, but if Aedan Cousland stepped in, there probably won't be a city left to defend.

"General Cousland, you cannot be serious about this!" Aveline shouted.

"I'm as serious as the Blight, Guard-Captain." Aedan stated. "If you wish to stop me, you're free to try. Though I wouldn't recommend it. I heard you were recently married, and I'm sure you'd rather live a long, happy life with the guy you were lucky enough to reel in."

Aveline gritted her teeth and clenched her fists and an angry vein started pulsing on her forehead. Aveline's limited diplomatic reserves had run out. "Just who do you think you are?! I understand the outrage you're feeling right now. You came here to help your people, only for it to go horribly wrong, and for that, I am truly sorry. We are doing everything we can to find those responsible. But hero or not, you have no right to waltz around this city like you own it!"

"If you had been doing your job, Guard-Captain, none of this would be necessary, would it?" Aedan remarked condescendingly. "And if you think I'm going to suffer repeated assaults against my people, then you're sorely mistaken. If you won't do something about it, I will."

Aveline wasn't backing down, she would not. Not in her own city. "Barking orders, making threats, stomping around like it was your right. Don't you see what you're doing? You're acting just like Loghain!"

Aveline's words were a great shock to Amythene and Bevin, who both obviously took exception to that comparison, and instinctively reached for their weapons in anger. Aedan, on the other hand, just stood there, with that threatening glint in his eyes. "I don't need to explain myself, least of all to the likes of you, Guard-Captain."

"The likes of me?" Aveline repeated, offended.

"Yes, you, Aveline du Lac, daughter of Benoit de Lac." Aedan said lividly, and shocking her and her companions. "What? You think I'd go anywhere without knowing who's who, especially in trash heap city like this? You, a decorated and upstanding officer of the Fereldan army who ran from her country when it needed you the most. Instead, you ran from your country, and adopted this miserable shit-stain of a city. And what have you done in you years as Guard-Captain? Well, let me see if I've got this right, but do stop me if I'm wrong: Um, slavers, organized crime, and blood mages are commonplace here. A demented serial killer ran free for years, until the Champion killed him. Oh, and a Qunari invasion happened on your watch. Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised, running away when times are difficult and failing in another country seems to be a trait in your family. Just like with your bitch-ass Chevalier father!"

Aveline's patience snapped like a dry twig at that insult, and she lost all self-control. She balled up her mailed fist and threw it straight at Aedan's insolent face with all her strength.

~XoXoXo~

"And right then and there, I damned near shit my pants at what I saw." Varric recalled as if he were reliving a nightmare that still haunted him.

"Man, just the sound of this Aveline lady...just turns me on!" Iron Bull laughed lecherously.

"Sure, it was a bad, I'da been pissed off too, but he was acting like a shit." Sera said with dislike.

"Guard-Captain Aveline actually managed Aedan?" Leliana said, unable to believe it. After everything she saw the Hero of Ferelden do, she didn't think anything could hurt him. "I didn't think that would be possible."

"Guess the Hero of Ferelden is more mortal than people think." Blackwall spoke with a hint of disappointment.

"If she could do something like that, then Guard-Captain Aveline is more formidable than I ever realized." Cassandra commented admirably. "I can see why you were afraid of her, Varric."

"Oh, make no mistake, I was always scared of Aveline, but she wasn't the one I was terrified of at that moment." Varric stated strenuously. "No, the thing that made me almost brown my trousers, was what Aedan Cousland did..."

Everyone leaned forward, their ears open, eager to hear what Varric had to say. What did Aedan Cousland do when Aveline punched him?

"He did NOTHING. Absolutely noting." Varric recalled, taking another deep quaff of ale to calm himself, like he couldn't believe the words that were coming from his own mouth. Everyone was surprised and confused at what he said. "He didn't block, or duck, heck, he didn't even blink. Aedan Cousland just stood there and smiled, while Aveline broke her fist on his face."

~XoXoXo~

Aveline yelled in pain and held her broken hand in front of her. Her fingers had been mangled, had at least three fractures in her fist, and her gauntlet was completely shattered. Aedan, on the other hand, just stood there, a sinister smile stuck on his face, without so much as a bruise. What is this guy made of?

"Aw, the truth hurts, doesn't it, Guard-Captain." Aedan condescended, that grin still planted on his face. "Everything Loghain did in his final days, was an abject failure, which resulted in his execution. If anyone here is like Loghain, Guard-Captain, it's you. The fact that you've had to rely on the Champion here for so long only proves that. If you won't do anything about these attacks on my people, then I will!"

Hawke was stunned by what he just saw. He once saw Aveline punch a qunari so hard his head twisted backwards. Watched her block an attack from a Pride Demon, and not even budge. Now she breaks her hand just punching the Hero's face? What in Andraste's name was he?

"General Cousland...!" Hawke shouted, getting the Hero's attention. "What you're doing here is uncalled for, and unworthy of someone of your rank and station!"

"Don't talk to me about what propriety is, Sergeant." Aedan snapped harshly. "Dozens killed and maimed in what was supposed to be a peaceful gathering, then some asshole kidnaps someone under my command. All this in a manner of hours! I will not tolerate these attacks against my people!"

"I don't think these are separate attacks, they are related." Hawke revealed. "We have reason to believe that a group of extremists are targeting Fereldans, targeting you. This may be another ploy of theirs to get at you."

"Do you have proof?"

"We have a lead." Hawke answered.

"Then you have nothing." Aedan responded dismally. "For all I know, given the insanity of this city, these could be separate incidents. And I think you know better than I do what fanatics the Templars of this city are, and what lines they're willing to cross. That bitch, Kinght-Commander Meredith herself, made it abundantly clear that she doesn't care about who mages are so long as they are kept in their prisons. So, to me, the suspect is obvious, and I am going to make them pay for this outrage."

"I want what you want, Aedan. I want the bastards who did this to our people to be punished for it, but I know there is more to this! And I'd rather not see my home reduced to ash before I can find the answers." Hawke argued adamantly. "This city by be a trash bin ready to be burned to you, but this is my home, and I will fight to keep you from lighting the match."

Aedan paused for a moment, considering the Champion's words. There weren't many who had the spine to try and backtalk Aedan, but Hawke had been doing practically since he arrived. Most people who even attempted to stand up to him were either arrogant or stupid, but Hawke was neither. He was just that much of a badass. "I'll give you this much, Sergeant, and the Guard-Captain, got more spine than most of this damned city. I swore not to interfere with your investigation in this matter, and I never go back on my word. If you can prove to me that these attacks are done by these extremists, and bring Petra back, I will do nothing. But if you can't, I will go to the Gallows myself, and believe me, I will rip apart the very stones of that building to find her. You have until sunset tomorrow."

Hawke didn't like having this kind of pressure, but he could understand Aedan's reasons. The Templars of this city were famous for their cruelty to mages, and if Aedan believed that they took Petra, then he knew her time could be short before the Templars decided to make her Tranquil. It was a fear Hawke lived with every day for his sister. More importantly, he remembered that as a Fereldan war leader, Aedan Cousland could not show weakness, nor tolerate insults or personal attacks. In Ferelden, his actions would not only be considered acceptable, but expected, otherwise, he wouldn't be a general worth following. Hawke himself would have probably acted the same way if someone did this to him. However, this wasn't Ferelden, and the Marchers here were already scared of outside forces moving in on them. If Aedan followed through with his threat, he could completely destroy this city's need to connect with outside countries to survive.

The pressure was on now. Hawke had no choice. "Then it seems I don't have time to waste."

"Good hunting, Champion." The Hero bade as sincerely as he possibly could.

Anders helped Aveline up and quickly set to work healing her mangled hand. As they made their way to the exit, Hawke was relived to see Bodahn and Sandal enter the Chantry with Merrill. Bodahn had Hawke's Key while Sandal carried the Amell family shield. These were exactly the kind of weapons he was going to need right now.

"Here you are, Champion. My boy and I got these here as fast as we could." Bodahn said as he handed the Champion his Key-Sword.

Hawke could still feel the power of this enchanted weapon when he held it in his hand, the magic his father wielded when he empowered it with his blood. It was the weapon his father, Malcolm Hawke, used to bind Corypheus to his prison, to reinforce the spells that held him there, and it was the same weapon Hawke used to slay the wretched creature, who was like a curse on his family, then had Anders incinerate his carcass. The sword had a wretched color to it. A shade of dull red and brown, like blood that he been dried out for years, as if the blade had been rusted over for centuries, but it was still sharper and more enduring than any other longsword Hawke ever held. The blade was unique; rather than tapering into a sharp point at the end, as most swords did, this one ended in a deep curve, like a scythe. This curved end gave the sword greaters cutting power than any straight blade and made it perfect for piercing the nicks in enemy armor, getting around shields, disemboweling and severing limbs like a sickle cuts wheat. It was a weapon that served Hawke well, and bore enchantments that made it even more dangerous.

"Enchantment!" Sandal shouted with that joy only he could posses as he handed Hawke his family shield.

The shield was an heirloom of the Amell family, his mother's kin, whose blood and history was tied to Kirkwall. The Amell name was one of the most powerful and prominent in this city, but after the death of Hawke's grandparents, and his Uncle Gamlen squandered the family fortune, including Leandra's inheritance, the shield was one of the things taken by the debt collectors. After Hawke became a wealthy man and bought back the Amell Estate, this shield was one of the first things he restored to his mother. After she died, Hawke took to wielding this shield in battle in honor of his mother. Unlike most shields, which hand rounded or flat faces, the Amell Family shield's face was angled outward, like the roof of a house, which made enemy attacks slip off its surface like drops of rain. On the face of the shield was the Amell Family crest, and Hawke had Sandal place several very powerful defensive rune enchantments on the shield so that it could hold back most attacks, whether it was from steel or magic.

Hawke found it appropriate that he wielded a sword from his father and a shield from his mother. They gave him life, made him the man he is, and now their legacies would continue to protect him. He was probably going to need it now that he had the Hero of Ferelden breathing down his neck.

"Will there be anything else, my lord?" Bodahn asked dutifully.

"Actually, there is, Bodahn. As I recall, you traveled with the Hero of Ferelden during the duration of the Blight." Hawke remembered.

"Yes, ser. One of the proudest things I ever did." Bodahn smiled proudly.

"Well, it just so happens that he is standing over there, and I think he would appreciate a visit from an old friend."

"Is that right?" Bodahn peeked over on his toes and was surprised to see his old traveling companion. "Maybe I will just do that, my lord. How about it, Sandal? You want to say hello to the Hero of Ferelden?"

"Enchantment!" Sandal clapped happily.

Both father and son made their way over to the Hero, eager to reunite with their former comrade. With any luck, they would provide a decent distraction to the Hero. Anything to keep him from thinking about burning this city to the ground. Now, Hawke had to get back to his own mission.

Everyone made their way outside, ready to follow Hawke to their next move. Anders finished mending the broken bones in Aveline's hand. They were going to need her sword hand where they were going.

"Maker's breath!" Aveline shouted, flexing her healed hand, unable to believe what just happened to her. "What in Andraste's name is that man made of?!"

"Coustland whiskey and anger issues." Anders answered sarcastically.

"Just who does he think he is?!" Aveline demanded angrily. "I heard the stories, but I never knew the Hero of Ferelden was such a bastard."

"Calm down, Aveline. In his position, you'd probably be just as pissed off." Hawke pointed out. Aveline gave him a disapproving look, but sighed and shook nodded her head, knowing his was right. "Besides Aveline, I think you going to want to save your anger for what I have to tell you."

"Just give me something to hit without breaking my hand, Hawke. I could really use something right now." Aveline sighed.

"We have a lead." Hawke answered earnestly, instantly catching Aveline attention. "We found out who was supplying the Slayers with weapons, and after some convincing, he told us where the Slayers are going to have their next rally, and who's leading."

"Who is it? I'll have him in irons and throw him to the Hero kicking and screaming." Aveline demanded.

"It's Jeven. Your predecessor." Hawke answered flatly.

Aveline stood there for a moment, completely stunned. Not in shock, but in absolute blind rage. Hearing Jeven's name had always rubbed her the wrong way because of how he disgraced the guards, but this was an entirely different level. Her eye twitched subtly and that angry vein reappeared on her forehead. "That...that cast-out disgrace? He's the one behind all this!? Never mind. The Hero can will have to wait his turn. There won't be enough of Jeven left to fill a wineskin when I'm done with him!"

"That's it, Big Girl, get pissed and show these pricks what you can do." Isabela encouraged.

"Apparently, after he was released from prison, Jeven held a bit of grudge against us, and he became an upstanding member of this anti-Ferelden movement." Hawke explained. "It seems he's the one who helped the Slayers obtain their quality weapons."

"Probably used his old criminal contacts to get those weapons. He dared to act as if he was wronged after sacrificing one of his own guards to cover his debts." Aveline huffed angrily at the thought of Jeven's corruption. "Do you know where he is, Hawke?"

"I've got information and a map telling me that he's holding a hate rally in Darktown. It'll be the perfect place to catch him and his conspirators."

"Then that's what we're doing." Aveline declared firmly. "I will not let that man do any more damage than he already has. You and I will go in to confront Jeven and his conspirators while my guards make the arrests. With any luck, we can stop the Slayers' activities and maybe resolve this issue with Cousland's missing mage."

"I don't know, guys. You really think he's behind all this?" Varric shrugged. "Jeven never struck me as the criminal-mastermind kind of guy. If he was, he wouldn't have been caught so easy."

"Then we'll just have to get the answers out of him. Even if I have to wring them out of his neck." Aveline threatened, strangling the air pretending it was Jeven.

~XoXoXo~

Hawke led his companions while Aveline led her guards. Thanks to the map Barkas Cadash gave them, they were able to navigate through these maze-like tunnels in the under-city with ease. Much like the Deep Roads, these underground pathways and tunnels could lead to any part of the city, but if you take the wrong one, you could easily get lost, fall to your death in the dark, or run afoul of the merciless natives of this dark place.

They must have been heading in the right direction. They found flyers on the wall welcoming new members to the Slayers that read...

To the true natives and rightful rulers of Kirkwall,

If you are tired of living of the scraps that the invaders of this city leave you, then you are not alone.

If you are sick of letting the outsiders who steal your jobs and take away your homes, then hear our words.

If you would stand against the foreign invaders who diminish your pride and rob this city of its greatness, then come stand with us.

Together, we shall overthrow the tyranny of the guard and the foreign filth who infest Kirkwall, and return this city to its true rulers.

No longer shall we be blind to those who rot this city to its core and taint the fruit of our proud heritage.

"Well, I'll give Jeven this: he certainly knows how to write a good hate speech." Varric commented satirically.

"Let's hurry, we must be getting close." Hawke urged.

They found themselves in an abandoned mining facility carved right into the cliffside by the sea. They were getting so close they could hear the echoes of some kind of empassioned speech being given to eager listeners. Aveline recognized the voice instantly. It was the voice of a man who would order his own men to their deaths for his own gain and not even blink. Jeven. He always did like the sound of his own voice giving orders, it made him feel important, like he was more of a man than he really was. Even after all these years, he was still a pretentious bastard.

"Too long, brave Kirkwall, have you had to suffer the indignity and oppression of outsiders. You did not cast out all other simply to fall under Fereldan influence!" Jeven's voice echoed through the mine. "Leaderless, displaced! Alien hands on the most basic authority. Foreign elite bleeding you dry!"

"Racist, pretentious pig..." Aveline gritted angrily through her teeth. Listening to Jeven's arrogant voice was a pain she wished she'd wouldn't have to suffer ever again.

"Well, no more! No longer we will we need to suffer such disgrace. No longer will we need to scrape and bow our heads to the outside masses that take our homes and rob us of our pride!" Jeven yelled charismatically, his audience cheering. "The attack against the dog-lord infestation proves that the so-called Hero of Ferelden isn't as powerful or invincible as the interlopers would have you believe."

The crowd cheered and applauded Jeven's words. The unprovoked attack that resulted in the suffering of others seemed like a victory to them. How can anyone take pleasure in such a horrible thing?

"This is merely the beginning, a stepping stone towards the future! A future where mongrels like these Fereldans will never again set foot on our shores!" Jeven shouted, his fist raised high. "With the steel we've acquired, we'll take back our place in this city. And with the magic and plans of our benefactors, we will use the Fereldan filth's own people against them, just like we did at their damned rally! They shall be a plague on themselves, just as they are on use!"

Sweet Maker, they planned to do this again? How could they do accomplish this? How could they even think of doing this to others? And who were these benefactors Jeven mentioned? This needed to be stopped before it went any further, and they needed to get some answers.

No sentries or guards posted. Either they were arrogant enough to think no one would find them, or they really wanted to Jeven spout his bullshit. This gave them a distinct advantage over the insurgents.

Aveline held her fist up, signaling her men to halt. "Everyone, wait here. Hawke and I will try to talk them down. If they won't yield, move in."

Donnic reached out to his wife, his face full of concern. "Just...just be careful, love. These men are dangerous."

"So am I." Aveline smiled confidently.

"Aye, that you are. It's why I married you." Donnic chuckled.

"Hey, far be it for me to interrupt a moment between a man and his wife, but maybe we should handle the dangerous infestation of insurgents before you two have a romantic scene together?" Varric suggested with his signature wit.

Hawk and Aveline walked in to the mine full of dangerous upstarts. Under most circumstances, just two people walking into a mine full of dangerous insurgents responsible for a devastating terrorist attack might seem suicidal, but these were not normal people. This was Guard-Captain Aveline, and the Champion of Kirkwall. For them, taking out a large group of armed radicles like this, must be Thursday.,

Aveline and Hawke shoved their way through the crowd, pushing aside anyone who stood in their way. When the Slayers realized who they were, the fire they had sputtered out.

"It's the Champion. He's here!" One of the Slayers said in shock.

"It's the Guard-Captain. Are we ready for this?" Another asked nervously.

Hawke could sense some of their resolve faltering. Just like Garth and Roland, they were mostly just young people. Couldn't have been much older than Carver when he died, and Hawke doubted any of them even held a sword before now. How could they have been warped this way?

Jeven was certainly not the man he once was. His hair was grey and brittle, his face worn and tired, and it looked like he had lost a lot of weight. Prison life must have taken a lot out of him. But for pride or vanity's sake, he still held himself with authority, something he probably felt he couldn't live without. Like the rest of the Slayers, he was wearing a set of high-quality leather armor, and armed with some very well crafted dwarven-steel daggers. He may even still knew how to use it.

"Jeven!" Aveline shouted at her disgraced predecessor. "You...disgrace yourself."

"The Fereldan bitch with the Orlesian name. And a displaced upstart who thinks himself worthy of being called Champion. Is there anyone else who so embodies how low this city has fallen?" Jeven accused hatefully.

Hawke snorted, unimpressed by Jeven's bellowing. After having to deal with Aedan Cousland, this man was nothing. "I'll let you handle him, Aveline."

"Do they know how you sacrificed your men? How you sold out everything you were supposed to stand for? How you alone disgraced your name?" Aveline denounced. "How long before you do the same to these people?"

The young Slayers looked at Jeven, wondering whether or not that was true. Would he betray them to save himself?

"Bitch! You took everything from me!" Jeven spat hatefully.

"You took it from yourself! You were supposed to protect your men and this city, but you sold them out to line your own pockets! You're not doing this because you care for this city, you're just doing to settle your own grudge. And he'll do the same to the rest of you!" Aveline turned to address all those who had gathered to hear Jeven talk. "When the storm you've all stirred gets windy, Jeven will choose himself over you every time. Do you think more blood, more murder will make this city better? It'll only create more suffering, and people like me and the Champion will hunt you down. And when that happens, Jeven will throw you on to the pyre before even thinking about testing the heat first. This isn't revolution, it's lunacy! An injury inflicted on Kirkwall! Your home, and mine!"

Some of the young recruits heard Aveline's words. Disheartened and ashamed of what they were allowing themselves to become. However, the true, hardcore, initiated members of the Slayers stayed, and were ready to put down the two objects of their hate. Jeven was enraged at the sight of Aveline robbing him of his chance to be important once again.

"I will not be left with nothing again!" Jeven growled, reaching for his daggers.

"No, you will be left with less." Aveline said calmly, unsheathing her sword.

Enraged, Jeven threw an object at Aveline from his satchel. Aveline instinctively blocked it with her shield, and it exploded on contact into a black cloud; it was a smoke bomb. Choking and blinded by the smoke, Jeven screamed in anger as pounced at the woman who robbed him of his life, his daggers ready to plunge into her filthy Fereldan face. Aveline heard Jeven's damned voice, and simply held her shield up to block his clumsy attack, the backhanded him in the side of his face with her shield, his jaw made a loud crack when it broke. Jeven stumbled backwards, his face in searing pain and spat the blood and broken teeth out of his mouth. He wasn't going to stop now. He had waited far too long for this.

Several Slayers got tried to get behind Aveline as she engaged Jeven, their swords drawn, ready to stab her in the back. Hawke charged them down with powerful shield bash, and thanks to the runes Sandal enchanted on it, the force of his attack sent all three Slayers flying into a nearby wall, breaking their necks and bodies. While Aveline was fighting Jeven, Hawke kept the other Slayers from swarming her.

The Slayers surrounded Hawke, their dwarven steel weapons eager to taste Fereldan blood. Despite being outnumbered by over a doze, Hawke stood firmly before his attackers, grinning confidently at the insurgents.

"What're you smilin' at, dog-lord? You're outnumbered and surrounded!" One of the Slayers shouted arrogantly.

"You sure about that? Why don't you look behind you?" Hawke dared.

"Ha! You really think we're that stupid?!" The Slayers laughed, so sure that Hawke was trying to pull a fast one on them.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Hawke sighed, but the Slayers kept laughing, until an arrow shot through the back of one of their heads and out their mouths. They all looked behind them to see a smiling, heroic dwarf holding a beautiful crossbow with the full might of the Kirkwall Guard behind him, and the rest of the Champion's companions. Standing amongst them was Donnic, and he wasn't very happy to see the greatest disgrace to the Kirkwall Guard trying to kill his wife.

"For the Kirkwall Guard! Charge!" Donnic yelled furiously. He and the rest of the Guard charged into the mine with full force, ready to stand with their captain.

The guards quickly got in formation, their shields locked and their swords held out against the Slayers. The enemy, however, didn't form ranks, or even hold a decent position. They just charged at the Guards' solid phalanx formation screaming viciously and swinging their swords wildly. What the Slayers failed to realize was that no matter how good your weapon was, it was worthless if you couldn't wield it properly. Someone trained them to fight, but only as individuals, whereas the guards had been trained to fight miscreants like them as a single unit. One mind, one goal. Aveline's training would undo their enemies.

The Slayers struck their dwarven steel against the shield wall of the guards, but their clumsy attacks were deflected by the guards' discipline. Now it was their turn. In one powerful motion, as a single unit, the pushed forward and slammed the slayers with their shield wall, their shields making a resounding clang against that echoed through the mines like a brass band. Each of the slayers was knocked off their feet, each of them seeing stars and hearing bells. The guards would not let up, not after what these people had done and moved to finish them.

The so-called Slayers found themselves in a horrible position. Only now did they realize how screwed they were. In front of them was that impenetrable wall of steel the guards made, and behind them was the Champion of Kirkwall. They were doomed.

Hawke charged the slayers down, breaking their bodies with his shield and cutting them down with his sword. Some tried to fight back, but Hawke's equipment and training outstripped theirs. Their weapons shattered on his shield and armor, and Hawke's enchanted Key-Sword cut through them like a scythe through wheat. Some of the slayers tried to run, but they were cut off by the guards, and quickly were quickly run through by them. As quickly as they started, it was beginning to end.

While her friends and her men were dealing with the underlings, Aveline took on their leader. After years in prison, Jeven had lost a step or two, though Aveline doubted his martial skill was ever that great, even when he was Guard-Captain. Then as now, he was a lowdown thug relying on underhanded tricks to get what he wanted. Fighting dirty was about the only thing he could do. Aveline, on the other hand, fought to win.

Jeven saw his followers being taken down, how easily they had been beaten and any chance he could have had to gain importance again was crushed. His anger boiled over, desperately trying to kill Aveline. He could still at least take her down.

"Argh! You Fereldan bitch! You destroyed my life!" Jeven fumed, his face red with rage.

"Wrong, Jeven. You did that when you betrayed the uniform." Aveline denounced harshly.

Jeven screamed with rage and, blinded by his anger, lunged at Aveline with full force, trying to stab her in the face with both his daggers. Aveline easily deflected the wild attack. She reared back her arm and punched Jeven square in the face with her shield. Jeven stumbled backwards in a daze, but Aveline wasn't through, and proceeded to pound him mercilessly with her shield. Every hit made a sick crunching sound as she flattened his nose, busted out his teeth and jammed his eye. Only when his face was a wet, pulpy mass on his skull did Aveline finally stop beating Jeven.

The disgraced former Guard-Captain turned terrorist laid there on the dirty floor of the mine, blood and tears streaming down his broken face. His functioning eye looked at his compatriots dead on the ground, then looked back up at Aveline, still intense with anger. "Well? W-what're...koff...waiting for? You've...already taken everything else from me, may as well take my life, too."

Aveline bared her teeth at Jeven and snarled like an angry warhound, and was tempted to grant Jeven's wish and just end him right here. "You arrogant, selfish bastard! You still think you're the victim in all this. You chose to be a criminal when you betrayed the guard! You chose to be a terrorist! Everything that happens to you now, is what you brought on yourself!" Aveline aimed her sword right in front of Jeven's ruined face threateningly. "I should kill you, you more than deserve it. But that's not what the Guard is here for. You'll be arrested and tried for the crimes you've committed against the people of Kirkwall."

"But first you're going to give us some damned answers." Hawke spoke out sternly. He knelt down before Jeven's beaten body and forced the injured terrorist to look him in the face. "Who's really behind this, Jeven? You don't have the resources to buy such a vast amount of dwarven steel. You're not cunning enough to come up with a plan of attack like this. You're nothing more than another petty thug. So tell me, who's your boss? And what kind of mage did you use to attack the rally?"

Jeven stared at the Champion with a disgusted cringe on his face, before spitting on Hawke's armor and screamed at him furiously. "I ain't telling a thing, you hear me, ya dog-lord piece of shit!?"

Hawke calmly, coolly, grabbed a kerchief from his pocket and wiped Jeven's blood and spit off his armor, then tweaked Jeven's broken nose, making him scream in pain. "So be it. If you won't talk to us, then we'll just hand you over to Aedan Cousland. I have no doubt he can get the answers out of you, and I'm sure he'll be eager to meet with you after what you helped do to our people. Take this murdering filth away."

The guards grabbed Jeven by his arms and proceeded to drag him back to the barracks. Jeven struggled against the men holding him. His mind snapped at the prospect of once again being hauled off to prison by the very guards he once commanded. That Fereldan bitch would never turn her back on him again! Summoning what strength he had left, he ripped himself free of the guards who held him, whipped out the dagger he had hidden in his sleeve, and ran to stab that miserable woman in the back like the bitch she was...!

"Aveline!" Isabella screamed, but it was too late. Aveline didn't turn around fast enough to see Jeven's knife coming at her.

The sound of steel cutting through flesh echoed of the mine walls as fresh blood sprayed through the air. Donnic's sword ran through Jeven's neck with ease, and the terrorist just stood there hanging on the edge of his blade like a piece of meat, gurgling blood out of his mouth.

"Nobody...touches my wife!" Donnic yelled furiously. He twisted his sword and yanked it out of the side of Jeven's neck. Jeven finally fell to the floor dead, his half-decapitated head spurting blood in the dirt. Donnic looked to his wife, his anger replaced with deep concern. "Are you alright, love?"

Aveline did her best not swoon. Being rescued so dashingly by her husband was a secret fantasy of hers, but she'd rather not look like a awe-struck schoolgirl in front of her friends, least of all Isabella. Maker knows she'd never hear the end of it. "I'm...I'm fine, Donnic. Thank you."

"I'd never let anything happen to you, Aveline." Donnic said affectionately, his words making Aveline blush deeply.

"Aww. Isn't that sweet." Isabella cooed sarcastically. "You two can kiss now, if you like. I certainly wouldn't mind seeing that side of Aveline."

"Oh, shut up, whore." Aveline responded.

"As well done and romantic as your actions were, Donnic, I'm afraid this works against us." Hawke stated with a slight hint of disappointment. "With Jeven and the rest of these Slayers dead, we've got no one to give us any answers. These guys were just the muscle, not the real brains behind this operation."

"So we're back to square one again? We got nothing? Great..." Varric groaned.

"And in the meantime, the Hero's deadline is getting closer." Sebastian recalled. "If we bring him nothing, he'll bring destruction to the Gallows."

"As much as I'd like to see the Templars get what's coming to them, I don't relish the thought of seeing what Aedan can do to this city." Anders spoke. "The last time he charged a city, he ended a Blight."

"Well, the only guy who could tell us anything just died, so I guess we're all buggered." Isabella said blithely.

"I...I can give you the answers you're looking for." Answered a soft, meek voice. One of the slayers walked back into the mine with tentative steps. The guards moved to arrest her, but Aveline signaled them not to. The slayer took off her hood revealing her youthful, blonde appearance. Hawke was shocked to see how young she was. She was even younger than Bethany was when they fled Ferelden. Her heart-shaped face turned pale at the sight of so much blood, and Hawke doubted she ever even held a sword before today. What was someone so young doing here?

"Who are you, young lady?" Aveline asked.

"M-my name is Sabrina." The young lady answered timidly. "I...I can tell you what you want to know. But first, I there's something I need to know. What happened to Garth and Randall?"

That caught them by surprise. Obviously, she was someone who cared about them.

"How do you know them, Sabrina?" Hawke asked.

"Garth is my brother, and Randall is his best friend." Sabrin answered. "They both left before the attack, and I haven't seen either of them since. I'm so worried about them."

Hawke sighed deeply. Despite what those two had done or may have done, they left behind people who cared about them. They were both so young, and made terrible choices, now those who cared about them would be left with nothing but heartbreak an pain.

"Sabrina...I'm sorry to say this, but both of them are dead." Hawke informed sadly.

Shock and pain gripped Sabrina as she fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands as pained sobs wracked her body. "Oh, Maker! Wh-what...what am I going to tell our mother?!"

Donnic knelt beside Sabrina and placed his arm on her consolingly. "I'm sorry Miss Sabrina. I knew Randall and your brother. They were good lads."

"You...you're Donnic Hendir, right? The guardsman? You're from our neighborhood, Mother used to talk about you." Sabrina sniffed, trying so hard to come to grips with deaths of her brother and friend.

"I remember your momma and your papa, too." Donnic smiled in an attempt to calm her down. "Sabrina, Garth and Randall were always good boys. What happened to them? Why would all of you join something as terrible as this?"

Sabrina sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes, her face veiled with sadness and shame. "Our father was killed two years ago when the Qunari attacked. Garth and Randall tried to find work to provide for us and our mother, but no one would take them as apprentices, nor would they hire them as laborers when they had Fereldan refugees who worked for so little. It was the same thing for a lot of people in our neighborhood, throughout Lowtown."

"I'll be that made them angry. After losing so much when the Qunari invaded and then not being able to provide for their own family?" Hawke asked.

"You wouldn't believe how angry." Sabrina responded. "Garth and Randa were both so furious. They couldn't understand why it was so hard for us who were born in this city were being pushed aside, and after what the Qunari did, it made them mad at outsiders."

"Then Jeven and the Slayers showed up?"

"Yes. They started showing up in Lowtown, talking about how the people of this city had been wronged, how we deserved more. The things they said gave us sense of pride again. Then, Jeven gave them they wanted even more: someone to blame." Sabrina continued. "They started talking about how outsiders were corrupting the city, how we needed to throw them out by force, and how the guards were against us."

"Why did you, your brother and your friend join up with them?"

"Garth and Randall wanted to feel proud again, feel like they were doing something for this city, protect it. I only joined to see if I could watch out for them. The things these people said, the things they wanted to do...I wanted to leave, but my brother said there was no going back. That we needed to make a stand if our family was going to have a future." The tears welled back up in Sabrina's eyes, remembering her brother's words became so painful now that he was gone. "What kind of a future can we have if all we do is kill and hurt other people? When Garth told me he was going to watch the attack on the Fereldan refugees, he said it with such pleasure, it scared me. I didn't even recognize him any more..."

"Do you know Randall ended up at the Hanged Man?" Hawked asked. If it hadn't been for Randall's drunken ravings, they never would have known about the attack or found the trail they were on.

"Because Randall was jealous!" Sabrina wept bitterly. "He wanted so bad to watch those people get hurt, but when Garth got picked over him, Randall stormed off saying he wasn't afraid of you or the Hero. That he could face you down and stand for the cause."

Hawke gently lifted Sabrina's face, making her look him in the eyes. "Sabrina, I need you to tell me exactly what the Slayers are planning, and how they intend to accomplish it."

Sabrina wiped the tears from her eyes once more and got a grip on herself. "You were right about Jeven. He was just a spokesman, telling the recruits what they wanted to hear. The real one coordinating them is a man named Renault. He was the one who trained the recruits and made sure the plans were carried out."

There was that name again. Renault, just like Barkas Cadash mentioned. "What can you tell me about this man?"

"He's Orlesian, I could tell that much. I think he might have been a Chevalier or a noble, judging from the way he acted. he trained all of them how to fight, and everyone hung on his every word like he was speaking for Andraste. He scared me, scared everyone around him." Sabrina confessed with fear in her voice. "If anyone truly believed in this cursed cause, it was him. He spoke of Fereldans like they're a cancer to be cut out, like they're worse than the Blight. And those eyes of his...they were so hollow and dark, like they had no soul behind them."

"How did he manage to turn someone into a living bomb?" Anders asked earnestly.

Sabrina's eyes went wide with shock and horror at that question. "What? That's what they did? Oh, Sweet Maker, please forgive me. I didn't know anything about that, I swear I didn't!"

"Do you know what this Renault plans to do next, Sabrina"

Sabrina's face twisted with sorrow and guilt for any part she played in this madness. "All I know, is that what happened this morning was merely the begining, a test. They plan to do something bigger, kill a lot more people with the same method on a larger scale."

Use the same method? That would require a great many more people being turned into living bombs. How would they do that? What methods were they using? Were they going to turn themselves into suicide-bombs?

"Sabrina, please, is there anything you can tell us about what they were doing? Any other crimes they were committing? Anything you tell us might help us stop this." Hawke begged.

"I...I know they were hiring someone to take Fereldan refugees from Darktown away." Sabrina remembered. "They were paying a slaver to lure them away with the promise of finding them paying work to help their families but just took them away."

"Sean's wife, she told me the same thing. That Sean said he found a job that could help him provide for his family. That's when he disappeared!" Anders recalled, angry that this was how they captured and murdered a good. man.

"They must be using this racket to finance their operations." Aveline said, outraged that this was happening under her nose. "Lure people with the offer of a good job, then sell them into slavery."

"These Slayers are worse scum than I realized." Fenris growled with disgust. His own anger piqued realizing that slavers were involved. "This is how slavers back in Tevinter capture new blood to feed the Imperium's need for more slaves."

"This is the exact same shit Castillon pulled on those Fereldans he captured from Denerim." Isaballe pointed out, knowing full well the lows some criminals will go for a profit.

"This is horrible!" Merrill spoke, completely appalled. "You can't just take people and sell them like they're goats or thing. We have to stop this."

"They're are all kind of criminals in the world. Some not so bad, and others are really bad. But slavers? They're as low as you can get." Varric commented insightfully. "How else could these bastards get a hold of good dwarven steel?"

"No. I don't think they were selling those people for money." Sabrina spoke out, trying to clarify what was happening. "The slaver didn't pay them for the people that were kidnapped, they paid him to hold them. Someone else paid for the weapons."

"Not exactly standard procedure for slavers, but most of them will do anything for gold." Isabella commented.

Hawke thought for a moment, trying to piece this all together. An Orlesian Chevalier who hated Fereldans who trained the Slayers to be soldiers of fanaticism. A slaver meant to hold kidnapped Fereldan refugees. And somehow, they were going to turn even more of them into human bombs. Something was connecting and coordinating them as a part of a huge design. It couldn't be a coincidence that all this happened just as the Hero of Ferelden arrived, somehow he was connected to this. Hawke needed to find a lead that connected all of this and follow it to where it led. There was still one more connection to follow.

"Sabrina, I need you to think very hard on this, even the smallest detail could help me stop any more death from happening." Hawke beseeched. "Do you have any idea at all who financed this operation? Who purchased these weapons? Anything you can tell me will help."

Sabrina paused for a moment and concentrated. She desperately searched the recesses of her mind for even smallest clue that might stop all this madness. "I...I recall another man who was there when we bought the weapons from the Carta. I didn't see his face, he was wearing a hood, but Jeven seemed to recognize him. Said he didn't think the two of them would ever work together. He said a name, but I don't know anything else. Vanard? Jeven said his name was Vanard."

That name stirred up a storm in the back of Hawke's mind. Now he finally had something to help him connect all the dots in this puzzle. "Sabrina, thank you. This is exactly the need I've been looking for." Hawke reached into his pouch and gave a handful of sovereigns to Sabrina. "Here take this money, and use it to help your family. Use it so you never have to come back to dark places like this."

Sabrina never dreamed of seeing so much money, let alone able to hold it in her hand. "Even after what my brother did, you'd still be willing to help my family?"

"Someone needs to look after the people of Kirkwall, all of them. And I think you're family has been through enough pain." Hawke smiled kindly.

Sabrina looked up at the Champion in awe and was overwhelmed with such emotion, that she couldn't help but weep at his generosity. "Andraste bless you, Champion. Bless you and all you've done for this city."

"Donnic, take her home please." Aveline asked her husband. Seeing how much this young lady had been through, all of them couldn't help but want to help her, even Isabella. Perhaps this small act of kindness would be the start of a new movement that would help heal the wounds of this city.

~XoXoXo~

Everyone made their way to the city surface, a profound sense of determination in Hawke's stride. There was such a fire in him, his companions couldn't keep pace with him. The information Sabrina told him exactly where he needed to go.

"Hawke! You know where you're going?" Varric huffed, trying to keep up with him.

"Did that name Sabrina give you mean something?" Anders asked.

"It gave me exactly what I needed." Hawke answered vigorously, not bothering to stop and explain. "We need to get Hightown right now. There's someone there who needs my boot in his ass!"

"Ooh, Hawke, I love it when you're aggressive like that." Isabella purred lasciviously.

"Well, whatever we're doing, we'd better do it now." Anders urged. "Sun's starting to set, so that gives us twenty-four hours before Aedan goes on his murder spree."

Hawke had a name, and with it, the motivation and means to that made this entire nightmare possible. Unrighteous men who committed villainous deeds were now carrying out acts of terror and evil, as if they were the ones who had been wronged, like this was some kind of justice. They had brought destruction and disgrace upon this city, and Hawke would hunt them down one by one if he had to. He would carry out true justice on them for the crimes they inflicted on his people and on this city. Hawke would not allow anyone to harm this city any more, even Aedan Cousland.

Author's Note:

Alright, so here's my latest chapter. Sorry it took me over two months to get it out.

I've been super busy lately and all my free time was really limited. And with the holidays coming up, I expect I'll still be busy.

I'm committed to finishing this arc and this story, so I ask that you continue to give me your patience.

The other reason why it took me so long to finish this chapter was to finish all those chapter extensions I said I was going to do.

The extended chapters are Chapters 1, 2, 3, 10, 13, 17, 18, 19, 20.

Some are more extended than others, but you'll need to go back and read them again to find out which ones.

Please review and tell me what you think.