Special Weapons and Tactics

The streets of Estwatch were a damn shambles. As we followed the pirates who had discovered us in the cargo ship, we saw the effects of our bombardment first hand.

There wasn't a single building that was fully intact. Those that were still standing had holes in them, often with the glass of the windows shattered from the force of the impacts rolling along the walls. Where the cannonfire had hit weight-bearing beams, entire structures had collapsed, not always straight down either. As we made our way, we had to climb over or go around large piles of wood, sometimes smoking in the rain.

That was a mere architectural curiosity compared to the people though.

The living ones now had too few places to shelter from the weather, and had taken to spreading the massive sails over poles and tying them to whatever was left standing, creating massive tents. Underneath them were dozens of people huddled around braziers, large cooking pots and metal baths, using them as makeshift heaters by piling in the broken remains of their hometown.

It was Berlin 1945. They were surrounded and doomed.

Pirate towns aren't exactly known for their high morals at the best of times, and these pirates had nothing left to lose but their lives. So many were going out drunk and loud. To use an example of what could be observed that night, there's nothing quite like seeing two barely-teenagers with daggers strapped to them, ripping the clothes off each other in the ruin of a house... At the same time far more salted sailors empty their stomachs in the gutter six yards away.

And that was just the living.

The first few blocks from the harbour, you'd see the dead. There was no shortage of them, and as there was no central authority to command it, the bodies lay where they fell. The Navy had raked the streets with grapeshot from their cannons, so the people caught outside or those inside the waterside buildings were very unfortunate.

The places where the ballistas for defending the harbour with Antivan firepots were where you'd see the worst carnage on the bodies, being closer to our ships and so being hit with many of the projectiles, but they weren't the worst sight. No, that distinction went to the dead families you'd find laying on their stomaches, backs perforated with the lead balls.

Yes, Estwatch had families. Not necessarily those of the pirates, but the crooked merchants, sex workers, carpenters, blacksmiths, cordage and sail makers all lived there with far more stable lives than those they served. Still part of a system dedicated to thieving, murdering and slaving, but not the direct participants.

As we weaved our way through this mess, I felt heavy with what I assume was melancholy. All this had happened because I had come to hunt Ianto. Although there were other reasons, the ruthlessness of the approach taken was a strategic decision of my own making, one made because of Ianto's own complete disregard for human life.

In fighting him, the bastard had made me more like him, and I didn't like it even if it was necessary.

It affected some of the others too. Cassandra, Sera, Varric... They were visibly screwed up by it. I had to dispatch Armen, who wasn't so cool himself, to get them to reel themselves back to the task at hand. Figured giving him the job would distract him, and it worked. A little too well.

That left the one other person who didn't like what she saw.

Inquisitor Trevelyan soon dropped to the back of the group, where my Tevinter brothers-in-law and I were holding up the rearguard far from the sight of the pirates leading us through. I didn't acknowledge her as she did so, there were too many potential threats popping into view as we moved.

"Why did you attack the town with your cannons?" she asked me, not with any hostility but with curiosity, "Was it really necessary?"

"Yes," I responded immediately, "The alternative was fighting street by street, which would've got more people killed. Mostly mine."

Or so I kept telling myself any time I saw the body of someone who really should've not been living in a pirate haven.

"Why?" she asked, "Could you not have just done what we are doing now? Adopted a disguise and killed Ianto? Or bribed the other pirates to hand him over?"

Keeping quiet as a trio of drunken cut-throats caroused past us, I slowed to put more space between us as the front of our group in order to answer when I was sure not to be overheard. A couple of the Inquisitor's retinue slowed also, afraid of something I might do. Though considering it was the Madame de Fer and Solas, I'm not quite sure what they thought they would achieve considering my magical immunity.

"The disguise plan only works if you have an army to back you up," I replied at last, "As for bribery... Ianto has a reputation for dealing with people who try to cross him, so only the biggest fish would try. There aren't many of those. Maybe three others with the power individually."

It took me a second to recall who the top pirates were from the intelligence briefs prepared by the OSS back when I was the one everyone called Emperor.

"Isabela is leading the privateer fleet on the North Seas, so she's out. Lachlan Poole is rotting in our military prison at Fort Carillon, awaiting trial. 'Ser' Tadeus is ironically serving as Gaspard's naval commander, so he's a little too busy with Valmont fleet and was too far from Estwatch to do anything anyway."

"In other words," Trevelyan concluded, "Ianto is too scary for almost anyone to betray."

There was a polite clearing of throat from in front of us. "That is not the only reason they opted for this display of force, my dear," Vivienne said, the 'they' being we Trojans, "By taking the island, they gain an alliance with one of the Rivaini factions, and resolve a growing diplomatic crisis by destroying the pirate threat they unleashed by castrating the naval power of Orlais and Antiva."

"The Assembly were pretty happy to get the excuse," Armen chipped in cheerfully, "Deploying military forces to do anything but fight demons isn't popular at the moment, except if we were invading Orl..."

He stopped as soon as he saw the deadly stare I was giving him, but grinned sheepishly, his youthful exuberance unable to make him fully sorry for speaking his mind.

"Yes, God forbid we want stability and security on the high seas," I said flatly to the Madame de Fer, "How dare we?"

"The cost of which is paid in blood, darling," Vivienne said to Trevelyan, "Never forget the people you are dealing with."

"I won't," Trevelyan frowned, "But now is not the time."

She was right on cue. As we turned onto a main thoroughfare, there were flashes in the night from the hillsides around the town. The artillery of McNulty's division was opening fire again, at selected points. All in support of what was to come next.

My radio crackled to life in my ear. "This is Ironside," the lieutenant of the unit said, "Commencing attack." It announced the beginning of a diversionary attack by two platoons of Grenadiers on a taller building left standing near the edge of town, a good overwatch position for the full attack to come in the morning.

With the rain, there was little chance of a massive fire, so the flashes from the hillside were soon joined by flashes far closer, explosive shells raining down on the defences near the target building. Seconds later, the crackle of musketry sounded just barely over the sound of the rain.

From the streets around us, a great groan of displeasure went up from almost every throat. Clearly the pirates thought they'd be safe for the night.

"Get to Langer's," the pirate leader who had been leading us shouted, "We've got business elsewhere it seems."

"Meet you afterwards for a tankard or two!" the Iron Bull replied, slapping the man on the shoulder as he left, "Go cut down a few for us."

This seemed a little strange to me, but I guess pirates had set watches for their people just as much as we did. Being on board ship without sailors working in shifts just wouldn't have worked, after all.

The trio sprinted off at top speed, so fast they slid on the mud and gravel below their feet. Fighting as they were for their very survival, or so they thought, weapons jumped into the hands of at least a third of the great many pirates around us in the buildings and tents around us. The men and women ran past us as we ducked into an alley, intoxicated or not, ready to do battle once again.

I was singularly impressed with their nerve given the odds, almost wanting to applaud. They reminded me of the men and women of Ansburg in that respect. A pity they were on the wrong side of history.

"Well then," the Bull said, "Looks like we're on our own." He looked to the Inquisitor for instructions.

"We should stick to the plan," Trevelyan said, with a confirmatory glance to me.

I shrugged with one shoulder, not able to argue with that. The diversionary attack was when we were supposed to start off towards the brothel, and we were already halfway there. We were ahead of schedule. The Iron Bull took my shrug for what it was and waved the whole group to follow him. He seemed remarkably familiar with where to go, and I mentioned as much, as I was sticking to the front of the group this time.

"Been here lots of times," the Iron Bull admitted under his breath, as we rounded a corner into an alley which he must've thought was a shortcut, "Sometimes things get too hot and this was always the best place to go to. Hercinia was better if you wanted to relax, before you guys took it, but here is way safer if you're being chased."

As everyone had to arrive by ship to Estwatch, it means arriving by stealth to hunt someone down was far harder. At least that was the point the Bull was making, but I imagined hiding in cargo crates would be pretty damn easy. Hell, I first met Armen after he came bursting out of one. I made a note of it, in case we ever had to track down someone. Even in Rivaini control, the island was still likely to be a hub of less reputable folks.

The Inquisitor explained the bait-and-switch plan to the Bull and Pentaghast as we moved.

The brothel called Langer's was and is based in an old Qunari barracks building.

It is in a dumb-bell shape, with two large square buildings connected by a long one, the east end being a headquarters turned into a tavern area, the connecting structure being the barracks rooms proper and the west end being store rooms turned into more … bedrooms. The whole structure was windowless on the ground floor, reflecting the need for defence. It faced directly across from the mayor's mansion across what used to be an open square which was built over with single floor housing, mostly occupied.

In other words, limited access above ground.

We were approaching from the east, and soon found ourselves outside of the tavern section.

Light and raucous noise poured out from windows and doors. There was no one hanging around outside near here; they were all inside, where proper shelter, drink and company could be found. Occasionally the doors opened, revealing it was packed almost wall-to-wall. Even large balconies on the wall attached to the rest of the building seemed dangerously full.

I grit my teeth. This was going to be bloody. Maybe too bloody for the Inquisitor's small group to handle without getting blooded themselves. Doubt about my idea seeped in.

"A lot of people," I said to her quietly as we observed for a moment, "You still good for this plan?"

Trevelyan gulped visibly. The sheer weight of numbers against them would be ferocious. "It's the only way to guarantee Ianto doesn't flee immediately," she said, before turning to her own companions.

"We're going in the front," she declared, "Varric, you're going with the General here by the back route. Follow his orders as if they were mine."

There was a light moment of comic relief for me as Tethras' face shrunk like he had stuck a whole lemon in his mouth, but he shuffled over with his crossbow in his hands, accepting the command of his leader.

"Good luck," I said as we departed, the small fireteam following me around the north side of the building to try for the west end.

As we left, the Inquisitor's retinue shed the furs covering the bulk of their bodies and rolled it up, and unsheathed their weapons. Our last sight of them was of the entire crew making it to the doors, before we disappeared around the corner... but it was not the last we heard.

The windows of the tavern section were open, so we were able to hear clearly when a thunderclap boomed, from some spell no doubt, and the sounds of final celebration went silent.

"By the authority of the Holy Inquisition!" rang out Trevelyan's voice, "We come to arrest the murderer and pirate Ianto the Talon! All those that aid us will receive a pardon from the hand of the Inquisitor herself! Where is he? Where is Ianto?!"

As distractions go, it was as good as any.

I paused to listen to what might happen. Trevelyan was making a smart move, with that offer she had included. The Rivainis weren't in a position to revoke such pardons and they should've been worth their recipients' weight in gold. If the pirates had received the offer at a time when they were sober and hadn't seen their friends killed, they might have accepted.

Instead, a colossal drunken roar of rage went up in rejection of the offer, and the sounds of battle immediately commenced, with Lady Vivienne, Solas and Dorian lighting up spells that shone brightly through the windows above our heads.

"Fuck, time to run," I said to my team, "No way Ianto can ignore that."

"Lead the way, Killer," Tethras agreed, his tone sincere and urgent despite his use of that nickname for me.

So lead I did. We sprinted the length of the barracks section to the old storage one in no time at all, spotting a doorway by virtue of the fact that scantily clad people, mostly women, were fleeing out of it. Or they were for a few seconds before the door was abruptly shut and locked just as we arrived. Shouts of command could be heard from behind it, telling 'whores to get back to their rooms' and that the hubbub would be over soon.

So, the enemy was all over the building, I thought to myself. Things would be bloody inside.

"Ditch the disguises, tool up," I said, "Prepare for breach. Tethras, can you pick this lock?" I pointed at the door's rather chunky looking keyhole. The dwarf grunted, reaching for a lockpick set on his side and getting started.

In the mean time, Armen, Marcus, Quintus and myself threw off our furs onto the ground and got ready. Quintus produced a smallish ballstic shield from the bottom of our large bag. Armen and I attached suppressors to the barrels of our firelances, basically tubes that caught the hot air of shooting so that the noise of firing was far quieter and sounded different. All of us donned Earth helmets to go with our Earth armour, and snapped night vision goggles onto them.

By the time we were finished, we would have been recognisable on Earth as soldiers or heavily armed police: SWAT.

As we did all that, Tethras was having trouble getting us inside, cursing under his breath. I began to wonder if I shouldn't order Marcus up to blow the lock off with his shotgun, something that was becoming increasingly less of a noise concern given the sound of fighting from the other side of the building seemed to have gotten louder.

"You going to get us in or not?" I asked the dwarf.

"Don't you worry about that, Killer," Varric replied testily, "Give me another minute."

I wasn't sure we had that, but getting him out of the way might need as much time. Plus something else was bothering me.

"Going to insist on that nickname?" I asked as he worked.

"Yes," Tethras said, "You have the eyes of a killer. They look around for ways to kill people when you enter a room."

Have to say I was surprised at that. Not because he thought such a thing, but that he had noticed it. You build up a natural paranoia when you've been in my business for as long as I had by that point, and aggression to go with it if you've survived and killed.

"What, like Angel Eyes?" Armen asked curiously, "'I always follow my job through'. You know, from the Good, the Bad..."

"And the Ugly," I completed, "Don't give him ideas." Him being Tethras in this case.

Armen loved westerns, for some reason, and he was upping his reference game.

"I might use that," Tethras admitted. He soon would, but for now, he was shutting up to let the lock click loudly. The door was now ready to open.

Here we go, I thought.

"Stack up," I commanded, pulling the night vision goggles down over my eyes, "We'll go in nice and easy. After you, Quintus."

My younger brother-in-law nodded, and moved forward with his ballistic shield, a tower shield strong enough to deflect firelance bullets but damn heavy. We lined up behind him along the wall, and Tethras opened the door by its handle slightly before letting us pass.

Quintus nudged the door open with the shield slowly, and on seeing nothing but a dark oak-panelled corridor beyond, we quickly filed inside out of the wet and cold. Tethras took up the rear, closing the way after us.

The predictable smell of alcohol, sweat and other bodily fluids hit us at once, carried on warm stale air. The sound of fighting had died almost completely, replaced by whispering, weeping and the occasional grunt of annoyance. I didn't like it. Especially as we had nowhere near enough time to sweep every room branching off from the corridor, of which there were many, most of which had curtains instead of doors.

This was the low cost part of the brothel, though it probably hadn't always been so given the furnishings.

I gave the order to advance directly down the corridor barely above the volume of a breath to Quintus, and we moved forward. The objective was the side of the building facing the mayor's mansion, for reasons I will explain.

We moved with weapons raised, aiming them at each curtained doorway as we passed them. No one emerged from them. The few people that had their curtains open were scared silent by our passing, were too addled to care or simply didn't notice us in the dark. There were very few candles in the hallway, barely enough for an ordinary person to see, though I supposed that sailors were well used to such conditions below decks and on watch at night.

A stairway up to the next floor met the passage half way into the building, which we ignored for the moment. No one was on them or on the floor we could see above, though we passed by in two groups, one covering the other in turn.

It was only when we were at the home stretch did opposition appear.

Two pirates emerged from one room towards the end of the corridor about ten yards from us, fully armed and armoured, though only just. They were talking about the fight the Inquisitor was still neck-deep in, while tightening the straps holding their weapons scabbards to their bodies. They had crossbows and cutlasses, the former ready to shoot for some reason.

Quintus knew what to do. He kneeled, the ballistic shield making a light metallic thud on the stone floor as he aimed his handcannon down at the enemy. I stood behind close-by, my weapon aimed over his head.

The thud caught their attention, enough that they began to bring up their crossbows on sheer suspicion. Good instinct. Poor timing. Quintus and I fired simultaneously, he putting a bullet in the left target's throat and me putting three through the centre mass of the right target. The suppressors made our shots sound like loud clicks, louder than the sound of the pirates' expiring breaths followed by their bodies hitting the floor slow, but not going to sound like trouble to anyone.

Except the poor girl who had been with the two men in the room they had just come out of. She whimpered loudly, seeing the men drop dead in front of her, before apparently covering her mouth quickly.

I waved Quintus to stay put and advanced alone, until I came level with the dying bodies and the doorway. The girl beyond it must've thought I was a God-damned alien, she was shaking so bad, half under a blanket, one hand pressed hard over her mouth. Her eyes shut tight at the sight of my shape in the gloom too, barely illuminated by the lantern on a small table by her bed. Couldn't have been older than sixteen.

I wasn't particularly pleased to be regarded with such fear by someone I thought innocent, particularly someone who was clearly being exploited... but at the same time, I was there to do a job.

"Is there an underground passage near here?" I asked the girl in the Common tongue, "An escape tunnel."

She nodded, though her eyes remained closed and her hand remained over her mouth.

Just as I suspected. It would be a poor excuse for a Qunari barracks turned brothel that didn't have a passageway to the mayor's building for discreet use. Especially as it doubled as a way out for the mayor. Our intelligence had picked up persistent rumours about such a tunnel.

"Is it left or right?" I said, indicating the direction we had been moving in before.

"Left," she squeaked, "Laundry room."

"Thank you," I replied, "Stay here and close the curtain."

I did not wait for a response, and left her, waving my team up to join me. Sure enough, we found the laundry room through the last door on the left, a L shaped space with large vats and copper water heating vessels. It was easy to see where the escape tunnel was, because it was hidden in plain sight as a drain for the water, large enough for two people to pass through easily and covered by thick metal bars on hinges.

"Armen, weld this shut," I said to him, "Quickly."

My companion slung his firelance and hmmed to himself, looking down at the thing. After a moment, he went to a vat and ripped off one of the iron legs attached to the wooden frame holding it, and brought it over to the metal bars.

Pulling out what can only be described as a wand, crystal and all, Armen lit up a blowtorch-type magical flame and melted the top of the iron piece, dripping the metal down in among the hinges made from the same metal. He tossed the leg down through the bars when it got too hot for him to hold, and turned his flame on the corners of the metal grate until they melted into the frame. Finally, he reversed his spell and hit them with ice, sending steam into the air and solidifying his work.

"Like to see Ianto's mages get through that," Armen said with great satisfaction, "Doubt they know how to summon flames like that!"

Of that we could be almost certain.

"Never have seen a spell like that myself," Tethras admitted with some admiration, "You'll have to tell me how to do it when we get out of here. Could be very useful to some friends"

"One thing at a time," I said, "Ianto is a slippery prick, he may get away from us somehow. Now his main escape route is blocked. He can't risk going out into the street for fear that we have more people waiting for him to do just that, so we'll be able to trap him here. Hopefully he's taken the bait. Let's go get him."

We went up to the floor above by the stairway and found it connected to the main corridor through the middle of the central building. Here the rooms had doors, and there were connecting more of the same to different sections, so you couldn't just see. All of those leading to rooms off the side were open, but all of those that led to the tavern were shut and locked. The candles here had all been blown out, and you wouldn't even know they existed if it hadn't been for the smell of beeswax floating in the air.

I figured this was where the fleeing people we had seen exiting the building had come from, because it didn't seem like there was anyone home. I was biting my lip the entire time, as we were forced to cover every side room while Tethras picked every keyhole. There's a statement you could misunderstand when said about a brothel...

Luckily the interior doors had piss-poor locks, so we were still making progress, but every minute that passed was one where the Inquisitor's retinue had to fight alone. Caution in not being detected was seeming less and less intelligent by the second. And less of an option too.

We were two thirds of the distance to the tavern by my reckoning when the noises of men shifting on the wooden floor and complaining could be heard through the next door. Stealth was no longer an option. Tethras had already crouched to unlock it when I pulled him back with one hand, and offered him a hand cannon with the other.

The moment of truth had arrived.

"Time to rock and roll," I said quietly, waving Marcus forward with his shotgun to do the honours. Something they'd here through the entire building, fight or no fight.

That was when Ianto decided to help us out.

A moment before we made the breach into the next part of the corridor, a beautiful voice unlike anything I have ever heard sounded as loudly as if it was projected by electronic means. What's more, I understood and recognised the lyrics.

L'amour est un oiseau rebelle
Que nul ne peut apprivoiser!
Et c'est bien en vain qu'on l'appelle
S'il lui convient de refuser!

Someone was singing the god-damned Habanera and doing a very good job of it.

To the uninitiated, this was an opera song that only someone from my world should have known at the time. The only document containing information about how to sing it was at the bottom of a random pile of music books back in Troy, definitely not something to be heard in Little Llomerryn that night.

My mind raced. Who was this person? Were they from Earth?

Our reason for being there now even more urgent, I opened my mouth to order Marcus to continue with the breach, but when I spoke the words, I found them drowned out by the singing. I flinched, looking to the others directly and raising my voice even more. Still couldn't hear myself properly, nor the others when they spoke.

The singer had monopolised the air for her song alone.

There was only one logical conclusion. It was the siren; the mage that had forced Ali and his entire personal bodyguard to wander close enough to town to be ambushed.

Thankfully, whatever personal aura of immunity to magic I had seemed to protect me, and my team was close enough to have the same protection. A bolt of fear went up my spine as I realised the Inquisitor and her retinue definitely would be under the Siren's spell.

"Sam?" a familiar voice crackled in my ear, "Can you hear me?"

Armen, the fucking genius, had tried talking to me over the radio. Something about it cut through the magical jamming. It was sorta like talking to someone through a primitive telephone, but I could understand. I smiled broadly at him and gave a thumbs up. Marcus and Quintus seemed to have snapped out of their confusion to, looking to my young companion with the same approval I had.

"Ianto has a mage with him," I replied, "Time to put your barriers up, I think."

My team obeyed, summoning shimmering blue magic around themselves while Tethras looked on, apparently having figured out that we were using our radios to talk but not having one himself.

The singing continued, so did we.

Marcus very kindly blew the lock on the door to smithereens with two quick shots from his pump-action, and Quintus kicked the thing in before leading the way through. I was directly behind.

We were immediately confronted by a dozen armed men and women, armed with crossbows and swords held ready to go. As I lined up my sights to shoot them, I saw that they weren't under any spell and quickly realised why when I noticed a guy picking at one of his ears. They had quite cleverly stuffed their ears with the wax from the candles in the hallways we had just travelled through, so they wouldn't be enchanted by their own mage.

They clearly hadn't heard the blasts of the shotgun, so they were just as surprised as we were that this confrontation was so even-sided in terms of who still had control of themselves. We exchanged shots appropriately.

As Quintus and I opened fire, the quicker pirates had gotten their crossbows up and loosed back at us.

Our weapons did not rise a decibel over the singing, but their fury was untouched nonetheless and bullets ripped through the closest two pirates. Meanwhile, bolts flew at us in reply, two bouncing harmlessly off of the ballistic shield... while another managed to find the edge of my waist and cut me deeply before skittering to the ground.

Pain rumbled in my side, a sensation I ignored as best I could while laying my sights on another target. Magic began shooting from both sides too. Armen and Marcus behind me and the pirates trying to kill me all decided to end this more quickly with spells. But between our barriers and my immunity, we came out the better in that exchange.

The pirates began to try to flee through the doors behind them or to the sides, but that was signing their own death warrants. We put them down, the last one just barely putting her hand to the door handle before slumping to the floor.

Slowly, we moved in on the dead and dying, to make sure no one was playing games with us. They weren't.

And like that, we were at the final door. Without a word, I dragged the bodies out of the way while the others covered me, so we wouldn't be tripping over them as we moved. One was still wriggling, and reached for a dagger. Surprised, I was barely able to deflect the blow and got a shallow but annoying cut up my arm for my trouble, before I dispatched the little shit by pulling my handcannon off my hip and shooting him in the face.

As I stood up, spitting to clear my mouth of blood splatter and regretting that I didn't shoot for the chest instead, I pointed first to Tethras and then to the door. He got the idea quickly and moved to unlock it, but gave me a look as he tried the handle and it opened without any trouble. Perfect.

"Goggles off, the tavern has light," I ordered, "Reload, then follow me."

My team responded enthusiastically, and no doubt would've coaxed many a satisfying sound from their firelances had we been able to hear a damn thing except the sultry sounds of the Siren.

This time, I led the way through, firelance up.

The doorway led to a smaller, higher balcony than the main one above the tavern floor, so we had a good view of both as we entered.

The tavern below was a god damned slaughterhouse. Bodies lay on the ground with wounds and burns across every conceivable part, over tables and the bar's countertop, blood was pooled seemingly everywhere. The smell of alcohol, ichor and death was damn near overwhelming. Nausea rose up and burned my throat, but there was plenty to distract me from it.

Among all that carnage, the Inquisitor's retinue stood in a circle, surrounded by surviving pirates and outnumbered still at least two to one.

The mages looked utterly exhausted, especially Lady Vivienne, who was being supported on her feet by the spirit Cole. Cassandra, 'Blackwall' and the Iron Bull had sprouted wounds and damage to their armour in a hundred different places. Sera had run out of arrows and had a chair leg instead of a blade. The Inquisitor herself had no more arrows either, was sporting a quarrel sticking out of her torso armour, while her dual daggers and hands were soaked completely red.

All of them, pirates and Inquisition, were entranced by the Siren's song with the single exception Cole, who was doing a bad job of pretending and had Vivienne to take care of regardless.

Above them but below us, the balcony railing below us was a line of crossbowmen, pirates to a man. All with their backs to us. In the middle of the line were Ianto and the mystery mage, both dressed in the typical pirate garb with winter additions of fur over their shoulders.

The Siren had dark brown hair which flowed from her head to her waist, and seemed to prefer blue as her clothing colour of choice and feathers as accessories... Nothing seemed special about her other than the unique magic she seemed to be capable of. She was taller than her master by a couple of inches, but he wasn't very tall to begin with.

There was nothing to indicate that she might be from Earth except her song.

Ianto hadn't changed a bit from the last time I saw him at the Gallows as far as I could tell. He was clasping his hands behind his back, the thin flowing wave tattoos visible up the length of his arms. He was unarmed, probably the only person in the room who you could say that about.

My skin itched as every instinct told me to unload every bullet in my firelance through the man, a sensation I just barely resisted... but only because Trevelyan was visible over the man's shoulder. I remembered my promise, and reminded myself to assure Sister Nightingale used all the best techniques as compensation.

In order to keep my word and take Ianto alive, I needed to get closer. Frustrated, I contained another urge to just shoot the prick and gestured for us to move down the steps from our balcony to the main one.

We accomplished that without being noticed, now unable to see the Inquisition retinue, but just as all five of us stepped off the small stairway, Ianto laid a hand on the arm of the Siren and the singing stopped at once. He pulled hardened candlewax out of his ears, and raised his voice.

"Inquisitor Trevelyan!" Ianto declared in a cheerful tone, "How nice of you to join us in this dark hour!"

He leaned forward over the balcony railing towards her, examining her retinue for a minute.

"You know, for the first time in my life, I truly believed I was going to meet my end," he continued, gesturing with a hand to the windows, "There is no escape from the army and fleet sitting outside this town. I know, I had my people look for one. I expected to have to hide in some dark hole somewhere until eventually dragged out of it and executed on the spot."

A rumbling laugh escaped, a real side-splitter. A fake one.

Realising we didn't have much time, I gestured for my team to follow me as we moved quietly forward, placing each footfall gently so we didn't give away the game. We fanned out in a line parallel to the pirates at the railing, even Tethras joining in and holding the handcannon I had given him at the ready. Every second, I was closer to my target, more able to take him alive.

"And along you come, one of maybe three or four souls that can buy my freedom!" Ianto said with glee, "The only woman that can save the world from demons walks right into my grasp. I must commend you on your effort, at least. I can see you brought the best of the best, and if it wasn't for Theti here, maybe you could have succeeded."

An unusual name, the mage had. It was unfamiliar to me, but Earth had many cultures I wasn't exactly hugely familiar with. Ianto paused again, waiting for a response, before he gave a theatrical sigh.

"Is that your only response to this great irony, Inquisitor?" he asked, "A smirk? I must commend your bravery, but it is not very articulate."

Trevelyan remained silent, presumably still wearing her smirk. I felt myself growing one as I finally entered range to execute the next phase of my plan. I held up a fist to tell my team to stop moving forward, and let my firelance hang off its straps in front of me while I retrieved a weapon from a holster on the small of my back.

A Taser.

A less-lethal weapon that shoots a web of wires onto a person and then runs high voltage electricity through them, shocking them to the point that their muscles seize and they drop to the ground. These days, we have mages that can accomplish the same thing with fine spell control, but even Armen had not developed it at that time.

"If you insist on being stubborn, we have nothing else to say," Ianto declared, clearly annoyed or worried that she knew something he did not, "Drop your weapons, and you will not be harmed. I would not harm so valuable a person."

Which was true. Problem is that he'd happily hurt the Inquisitor's companions to force her compliance or even Trevelyan herself the moment it became clear she was not valuable enough to save him from death or imprisonment.

I couldn't resist any longer.

"Feu!" I commanded loudly enough that the entire tavern heard. Open fire.

The next few seconds saw the shotguns of my brothers-in-law boom, Armen's suppressed firelance whisper and Tethras' handcannon crack as they laid pirates low to either side of Ianto and his Siren, the bastards caught entirely by surprise. The backs of heads exploded and backs sprouted angry red maws, their new owners falling straight over the railing they had been leaning on.

I did nothing for those few seconds. I waited.

The Siren called Theti was clearly a woman seeped in violence and acted accordingly. As soon as the man beside her died in spectacular fashion, as soon as she heard the gunfire behind her, she made her move. Not to turn around, not to counterattack... She turned herself into a seagull and flew straight out the window. A response to this sort of surprise attack that she had clearly used before.

I had not even got a look at her face.

Ianto was not so lucky as to be able to turn himself into an animal to escape, but his response was no less animalistic. He spun on the spot, fist raised, misjudging how close I had been behind him. If he had been given time to think rationally, he would've jumped to the floor below, but the man beside him had been the one whose head had exploded. He was covered in chunks of brain matter.

He was frozen on recognising that it was me standing behind him, with a weapon raised.

With a great deal of satisfaction, I triggered the Taser in my hand and the wires shot out, grabbing the clothes on his chest. The click-clicking of the electricity flowing through was confirmation enough that the thing was working, but Ianto falling flat on his face in front of me twitching was even better. I let him stew like that for a few seconds, walking over and standing over him with my finger squeezing the trigger.

Only when I had retrieved the handcuffs from my belt did I stop the Taser, quickly grabbing his hands and cuffing him tight. A quick glance confirmed that my team and the Inquisitor's retinue were putting the remaining pirates down like rabid dogs.

"You..." Ianto breathed from his prone position.

"Yeah, me," I replied, "Shoe is on the other foot now, is the phrase you are looking for."

He struggled on the ground until he could see me.

"Why am I alive?" he asked, "Do you want a public execution?"

I snorted. "Nope, we're just going to tickle your testicles with this for a couple of years," I replied. I gave the Taser another squeeze, briefly, to illustrate the point. "Then maybe you'll die."

Gotta hand it to him, he recovered his composure quickly.

"You're lying," he said, "The Inquisitor... would not personally help you if that was the case."

I crouched down beside him, so I could get a good look at his pug like face directly.

"I wasn't lying," I said, "You will be tortured. That's all you need to know. Enjoy the knowledge."

Ianto's eyes shifted in thought for a moment, before something clicked and he sneered up at me.

"How is that woman?" he said, "The one I threw to you as a test. You know, I think there was something there, underneath the drug induced lust. Most people do not immediately fuck each other when under the influence of that particular cocktail."

I punched him in the head without thinking, regretting the decision at once. He remained conscious, thankfully.

"Sore spot, General?" Ianto groaned, "I'm sure the cravings for the substance continue, in both of you. There must be some nights where you feel like you want to scratch off your skin. Pity it is a unique thing, not easily found... but if you release me, I will tell you all I know of it, and anything else you wish to know."

The fucker was really going for broke.

He was wrong about the cravings for what I still call Silk Cocaine... mostly. There were some nights, after stressful days, where I could not sleep out of wanting it. Never after combat, though. Julie always seemed to know when it happened and did what she could to give me relief. I did not know what Mariette did for it, and that fact merely added to my feelings of guilt about what I had done to her.

That guilt began to add fuel to an unspeakable anger, my promise to Trevelyan to keep him alive ever more likely to be broken. "I'd much rather see you flayed and crucified," I retorted at a whisper, "But only after your balls have been singed off you."

How far I had fallen from the ideals of the United Nations... That is how far he had sent me down from them.

Ianto laughed, knowing he was getting traction. "Tell me, what did Mariette de Villars do afterwards?" he chuckled, "Magic can't touch her, so I suppose that makes things more complicated. Did she ruin herself with the herbs to end it rather than bear your child? Or does she plan to enter the Great Game of Troy and kill your other children to put hers on the throne of your little realm?"

I punched him again, harder. He shut up for a moment, but probably not because he was in pain. He was letting me stew with the thought of what he had just said. I had truly neglected good sense in not talking to Mariette in detail about this. It was her choice, I felt I had no choice but to accept her wishes on the matter. That was true, but not talking about it was... unwise.

Mariette was an Orlesian bard by training and Ianto had suggested about her plan for our child was not an impossibility, and that made it all the worse.

"Well, I must admit I owe you an apology, General Hunt," said a voice from behind me, "Ianto is truly a vile person, beyond my expectations."

I stood up and looked to find Trevelyan and the Iron Bull standing there, with Armen.

"Inquisitor!" Ianto said, "Save me from this man and I will tell you all I know!"

Trevelyan cocked an eyebrow at me, surprised that I hadn't told the pirate what his fate was to be yet. "Very well," she said, playing along, "Ianto, also known as the Terror of Llomerryn, I arrest you in the name of the Inquisition."

Ianto laughed once more. "As I thought!" he said to me, "You always were going to hand me over to her."

Neither of us gave that the dignity of an answer. The Iron Bull stepped forward and grabbed the man by the scruff, lifting him to his feet and pulling him away past Trevelyan with a great deal of force.

I switched channels on my radio and reported to headquarters.

"FOB Rivain, this is Checkmate," I said, "Send word to Troy and Skyhold. The pirate Ianto has been captured."