A/N:

Just a reminder: Seheron is conquered Qunari territory, while Par Vollen is the Qunari homeland. The Antaam is most active in Seheron. The Triumvirate resides in Par Vollen.

;

"Come, Brute." Carver tucked a tin of cookies under his arm and strolled out of the market, Brute quickly by his side.

Carver didn't look back at his contact manning the stall he had left, nor did his contact say farewell after Carver paid for his goods. Save for Isabela, no one in Kirkwall knew of Carver's connection with the merchant, though Carver and Antonella weren't shy to play up to their stumblingly romantic image when needed. The roles helped explain their painstakingly subtle exchange of letters, should anyone catch their slights of hand.

Regardless, today was Carver's last day in Kirkwall if Nails had anything to say about it. In Carver's written exchange assuring the commander that his captain was alive, Nails had blown through denial, negotiation, rage, until finally acceptance of Carver's absence from Denerim. After all, securing the stability of Ferelden's neighbours was related to checking Ferelden's safety. However, even exaggeration had its limits within the bounds of professionalism. Carver was due to expeditiously return to Denerim, yesterday.

Bodahn swung the estate door open. "Ser Carver, welcome back!"

"Bodahn, Sandal." Carver nodded to the Feddics as he entered the Hawke estate.

Brute bounded ahead of Carver for his room, where Carver blinked at the sight of Garrett and all of his friends sprawled across the space, lounging. Isabela darted past Carver and threw herself into his bed with a snicker and his coin purse in hand.

Carver sighed, setting his tin down on a table. "If you run away with that, I'll be forced to kill you."

Isabela tittered excitedly. "Reaaaaaally, what's in here?" She opened the purse, murmuring, and fished out a wooden stamp. "Coins, a key…and something with dogs on it? Very Ferelden."

Sebastian stared. "Isabela, that's the crest of the Ferelden royal family."

Isabela whipped a sparkling gaze to Carver. "How did you get this? Wait, if you tell me, you'll have to kill me?"

"He's in Maric's Shield." Garrett looked at his brother. "Carver is its captain."

Next to the doorway where Carver kept his weapons, Aveline unsheathed Carver's sword enough to reveal its engraving. "Summer Sword."

A stunned silence fell.

Carver quickly interjected. "I take it all of you have nothing to do today?"

"Oh no you don't!" Anders interjected. "No deflection this time! Based on news across the Waking Sea, you've been running Maric's Shield since you were eighteen!?"

Carver groaned, flopping into his armchair with red cheeks. "Does no one respect privacy anymore? Why are all of you in my room?"

Garrett scoffed. "We've all been busy. Only now do I have time to update everyone on what happened at the château."

"In my room?" Carver repeated.

Merrill fiddled with her hands. "Some privacy was desired."

Carver sighed at the confession. Ever since the hunting party, the general public had been stirring at the news that Garrett had killed an anti-Ferelden Orlesian noble somehow embroiled with the Qunari before his death. The hot topic only elevated Garrett's reputation to greater heights. Love him or hate him, the Champion of Kirkwall moved decisively in political matters – a stark contrast to Marlowe Dumar who was guilty of cautiousness. Garrett's inner circle had begun receiving attention by default. Charade was content disappearing into Garrett's shadow, though her participation in the event had reached some ears pricked towards the last living Amells' affairs. The bon ton's burning curiosity over Charade's choker had already earned the young woman and her father countless invitations to soirées and tea parties.

Carver was secretly working with Celene to pass Prosper's château on to Garrett via a law of chivalry, given Garrett had beaten Prosper in combat. Celene had been unhappy to learn that Prosper had been fraternising with the pro-annexation Gaspard behind her back.

Varric leaned back in Carver's other armchair. "Tell me something I don't know about the Deep Roads."

Carver groaned. "What do you want, Tethras?"

"Honest insight on an unknown topic," Varric chuckled, crossing his arms. "You've been holding out on the rest of us."

Carver frowned. "Remember when we rescued Yevhen's sons?"

"You found that runed sword," Isabela piped up, "and five golems. A shame, really. That sword would have served better in the hands of a warrior instead of a conciliator like Emrys. Or better yet, traded for good coin."

Carver watched Aveline admire Vercenne's engraving. "I've met the one who smithed Heartdrinker before."

Varric raised a brow at him. "The sword was as old as the First Blight."

Carver didn't refute it. "Paragon Caridin surrendered a normal life in stopping Emperor Valtor from creating more golems. He believed no future was worth making unwilling sacrifices out of fellow countrymen. In Paragon Caridin's last moments, he joined his stone brethren with the peace that such sacrifices would never be made again."

"Alright, that one's a lie," Anders accused, but Justice denied it.

"I sense no malice," the cat commented.

"Paragon Caridin," Carver continued, "would have been happy to know that one of his creations fell into the hands of a soft-hearted man like Emrys."

"How did you do it?" Merrill watched him with wide, curious eyes. "End the werewolves in the Brecilian Forest?"

Carver stiffened. "That's — I can't—"

Fenris snorted. "Humility here would be fruitless."

"The details affect the lives of many." Carver ran his hands down the wrinkles of his clothes. "This is deeper than my honour as a knight. I'm sorry, you must content yourself with what Clan Siona has chosen to share with the People."

Merrill blinked, startled. "By word of mouth, Fen'halam is said to have led a few wardens into the Brecilian Forest. There, they fought an entire pack of werewolves for seventeen days and seventeen nights, before finally slaying the last of the beasts. Upon the end of the creatures' taint on the land, the forest breathed life anew. Clan Siona heard the forest's wisdom and moved on to new lands for a home."

Aveline lowered Summer Sword and looked at Merrill. "Your clan trusts the details of stories passed second-hand?"

"Our ways are rooted in oral tradition," Merrill stated. "The Keeper and the First bear the grave responsibility of sharp memory. In exchanges between clans' Keepers, words are as gold — precious and powerful." She turned to Carver. "The stories never hinted at a second truth."

Varric nodded. "The wolfsbane song made you out to be a warrior who shoots lightning from his eyes and has the strength of a dozen men in each hand. Funny enough, no one can agree on Wolfsbane's race or gender, considering the tale's origins."

"The victory is the elves'." Weariness settled behind Carver's eyes. "As is the tragedy. I can say no more."

"What of the warden song?" Sebastian remarked, intrigued. "The Hanged Man sings it now and then, but makes no mention of a golem paragon. The song instead celebrates your valour for braving a fortress infested with darkspawn in order to find Paragon Branka's remains, and lay them to rest in the Stone."

Garrett cocked a brow. "I didn't realise you enjoyed music outside of the Chant, Vael."

Sebastian smiled softly. "The Maker has set things into motion so long ago, we oft miss his hand in the present. Any sound of His creatures' goodness warms my heart. A dwarven lay brother in Orzammar sought to share the Chant's joy so sincerely, he established a Chantry in his home with help of a Ser Carver. His account lines up with the Warden Carver song."

Carver dithered when gazes turned his way. "…All true. Warden Elissa and the rest of us had hoped to instead find Paragon Branka and escort her back to Orzammar, but the Deep Roads eventually claimed her. Oghren Kondrat thus returned his former wife to the Stone."

Carver had never sat and listened to Leliana's tributes to him all the way through, but he was grateful that the bard had seen fit to exclude mention of broodmothers. Upon reflection, Leliana had likely written the songs to lift folks' spirits, embarrass Carver, and encourage his self-confidence in equal measure, considering Solona had been present to contribute to the lyrics. Ever since their journey from Redcliffe to Ostagar, the two women had been teasingly honest around him.

"I also remember Brother Burkel," Carver admitted. "His Chantry was already developing last I saw."

"You're fibbing," Garrett spluttered, turning to Sebastian. "The both of you. A Chantry dwarf brother in Orzammar?"

Sebastian's face glowed. "The Maker's song can enlighten all hearts who hear."

The door suddenly erupted with knocking, before Carver sat up and opened it to reveal Bodahn. "Pardon me, messeres. Harbormaster Liam sent an errand boy requesting for Messere Hawke? Apparently the First Enchanter and a few mages crossed over from the Gallows, before the Knight-Commander and her Templars intercepted them in the name of public order."

Unified groans responded to the news.

Bodahn nervously stroked his beard. "The Knight-Commander and First Enchanter are, ah, caught in a spirited debate."

Aveline shot out the door, stomping. "Public order as if. You there, errand boy! Send for Lieutenant Hendyr and a squadron of guardsmen!"

Carver quickly made way for the orange-haired soldier. Kirkwall's economy still needed to be able to run while the skirts were having a fit, to say nothing of Kirkwall's public face before international parties sailing in and out of the harbour. Garrett's presence in the politically tangled knot would do wonders as the steady Champion. Carver expressed as much with a look at his brother and a swift equipment of his sword.

Garrett bolted to his feet and grumbled the entire way to the docks.

Meredith and Orsino's voices grew clearer and louder the closer the party drew, until finally they witnessed Meredith abruptly step into Orsino's face with bared teeth.

"Blood mages!" Orsino mocked in response, gesturing sharply. "You see them everywhere! My people cannot sneeze without receiving such accusations!"

Garrett raised his voice at Orsino's sudden square-up with his Templar counterpart. "Woah! The way you two go at it, people will talk."

Meredith snapped. "You have no business here, Champion."

"Why not involve him?" Orsino interjected. "The people of Kirkwall deserve to know that you abuse the Order's powers as the Chantry's right arm in magic."

Garrett blinked rapidly. "I don't speak to or for the people––"

Except pertaining unfounded gossip like Meredith and Orsino kissing, apparently.

"Then let us seek the Grand Cleric's wisdom!" Orsino moved for the Chantry.

Meredith cut him off, her Templars rippling behind her in parallel movement. "You'll not disturb Her Grace with a pointless debate!"

Aveline and a squad of her guardsmen strolled in, establishing a perimeter. The dockworkers and ferrymen began clearing the space with darting eyes.

Carver sighed at the scene. The Templar Order had been conducting its own internal investigations of disloyal members for decades. Meredith's strictness with both mages and Templars was still being tolerated because her attitude hadn't developed without inspiration. In Garrett's first interaction with Knight-Captain Cullen, long before Carver's arrival to Kirkwall, Cullen had been caught trying to scare a confession out of a Templar recruit named Wilmod for secretly meeting up with escaped Circle mages. Cullen had felt compelled to make the threat feel genuine.

The incident proved that Cullen had been conditioned to think the method was appropriate for a knight-captain. He had probably suffered the same treatment in Ferelden's Circle to force him to admit that he had liked Solona, and had likewise received punishment for "sympathising" with a mage. Cullen's transfer to Kirkwall's Circle could have been Greagoir's best attempt at calming the scarred man. Ferelden was guilty of loose oversight, considering it was host to four knight-commanders, three of which were let loose to check on chantries and lead hunts for apostates. Knight-Commander Harrith could even secretly maintain a partnership with the Lucrosian Mage's Collective.

To Carver's understanding, Ferelden's Circle nowadays knew to write letters to Wynne in Tevinter if they wanted Circle authorities to be cut back down to size. One could hardly argue logic with the first enchanter currently researching how to reverse the creation of golems and other supposedly impossible science. Greagoir and Irving sometimes sent Carver energetic letters considering his friendship with Wynne, but the two men always ultimately cowed upon receiving Wynne's response. She liked to remind them that without her prompting, they themselves had allowed Finn to indefinitely leave Kinloch Hold in the name of research. Greagoir and Irving could hardly eat their actions now. Wynne's involvement in the genius Dagna's recruitment into the Circle also mollified them.

Varric nudged Carver and murmured. "You keep glancing at the Twins, Shiny."

Carver sighed. "Just hoping I have the date right."

"For what?"

"…Preventing a war?"

The Twins was the colloquial term for the two bronze statues guarding Kirkwall's channel. All ships in and out of Kirkwall had to pass between them.

"Maybe the Qunari will invade a second time," Merrill suggested, "and give those two a reason to fight together again."

Carver blinked, turning his gaze from the statues to Meredith and Orsino. Even with Garrett present, their debate was escalating, and the Templars and mages behind the pair likewise stirred with stimulated energy. Carver's heart picked up at a glimpse of Bethany in the shifting crowd.

Isabela held a hand to her chest. "Don't even joke about that, kitten. If I never see a qunari again, it'll be too long."

"They won't fight together," Carver murmured, eyes straying to sparks in the tip of Orsino's staff. Mages were driven by emotion. "I've seen it before in Ostagar. Chaos can divide just as well as it can unite."

Templars had struck mages down in reflexive fear, despite the fact that the archdemon had been to blame for sudden fire. With frayed tempers among Orsino's count, particularly Orsino himself, the debate was a disaster waiting to happen.

Aveline joined them in that moment and cursed under her breath at Carver's statement. She rigidly motioned an elf with a nicked ear over.

Varric blinked. "Gallard?"

"I've said it before," Aveline commented. "You want to be good at this job, you pay attention to what's missing and when people arrange escape routes."

The gambler from the Hanged Man smirked at Varric as he strolled over. "You're not my only colourful contact, Tethras."

Fenris shrugged when Varric caught the look between them. "Donnic and I sometimes play diamondback."

"And Hendyr is a sore loser." Gallard chuckled quietly at Aveline.

"Chaos is good for no one," Aveline steered them back on track. "Gallard, no one can be throwing rocks at this time."

The Coterie accountant grumbled. "Distractions serve us best in theft, but I see your point, Guard-Captain."

Isabela watched the man walk away. "He uses you to arrest his rivals."

"I arrest anyone with sufficient evidence," Aveline sniffed, "and when it gets tough, I send Hawke."

With Garrett's mine lucrative for all parties involved, even the Coterie knew when to cut losses. Isabela snickered at Aveline's cold cleverness.

Anders tossed a look at Carver. "What of you, Captain? Does the king's army share an understanding with extra-legal parties?"

Carver spoke flatly. "No comment."

Magic suddenly flared among the crowd of mages, and everyone jumped. Garrett interceded while half of the Templars and mages reflexively drew their weapons and were already attacking.

"Keep your emotions in check, for Maker's sake!" Garrett hastily blocked a blow with his staff.

Violence and yelling erupted at the docks, crashing like a tidal wave into a full-blown fight.

"Enchanter, you tell him––!"

"Don't you bring my sister into this!"

Fenris jerked forward. "That's my cue."

The party quickly drew their weapons and hurried to Garrett's side or to block the fighting off from reaching civilians. Carver clicked his tongue at the mayhem. A mage's emotional outburst had manifested into a harmless flare of magic, much like the shot heard 'round the world.

Bethany's voice filtered through the air. "Brother, all citizens must be allowed at least the freedom to publically gather–– Carver!"

Merrill earnestly turned to him. "I believe that's your cue?"

"Behind me," Carver tersely replied and hammered a wrath of heaven upon a cluster of people.

Templar or mage, they all fell over stunned. Carver quickly switched places with Merrill who freely cast her magic without Carver's natural dampening, and imprisoned several Templars in mid-swing with conjured stone. Anders twirled his staff before Carver threw a hand out in front of him.

"But––" Anders protested.

"Fireballs can't solve everything!" Carver intoned.

The blonde whined. "Then at least let me kick the shit out of diseases!"

"I believe those people need healing," Sebastian offered with a nod to incapacitated mages.

Justice pounced on a Templar's face before they could attack the mages, while Anders rushed over with glowing hands. Aveline disarmed a Templar with honed experience, startling the Templar, before raising her shield flat to the sky and crouching down. Isabela wordlessly ran at the proffered mount and leapt over a volley of arrows before ambushing a line of Templars from behind. The two women cut the legs out from under their opponents together. Garrett and Bethany meanwhile telekinetically wiped out the obstacles in their path for Orsino and Meredith, who were in a clash of holy and elemental power. The cliffsides around Kirkwall's docks flashed with blinding light. A nearby ship caught on fire.

"What a mess," Carver muttered under his breath, before an opening in the crowd revealed Garrett tackling Bethany away from an attack in her blindspot.

Meredith rose a glowing red sword over their heads.

"NO!" Carver cried out.

"AGGGHHH!"

Suddenly, the knight-commander staggered. Her sword slipped out of her hands and fell point-first into the ground with a twang, Meredith's knees quickly following. The woman heaved on all fours as her veins bulged up her neck and temple. Orsino seized up next with a clutch of his heart, drawing the stunned attention of the Templars and mages around them. The fighting wavered.

"Enough."

Dockworkers, guardsmen, Templars, and mages parted before the arrival of Cassandra Maker-loving Pentaghast.

Men and women in Seeker armour streamed in from behind the Right Hand of the Divine. She lowered a fist, and Meredith and Orsino caught their breaths with sudden relief. Cassandra had used her unique Seeker ability to set the lyrium in a person's blood aflame.

Cullen hastily straightened, nearly dropping his sword to salute. "Seekers!"

"Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard," Cassandra bellowed. "First Enchanter Orsino. You are both hereby stripped of your rank and deported to Val Royeaux for criminal investigation. Kirkwall's Circle and Order are under Seeker supervision, now."

The Seekers spread out to detain the two accused and split up the Templars and mages.

Meredith picked herself up with a hand on her pommel and slapped the Seekers' hands away. "What!? How can that be!"

Cassandra stood at rest, pointing her chin at the red idol infused with Meredith's sword, then at Orsino. "You are in possession of an illegal and highly volatile material – and you, Orsino, encouraged and equipped a serial killer by the name of Quentin. There are written correspondence and banned blood magic tomes from yours and Quentin's living spaces that point to your contribution to unholy experiments."

Orsino spluttered while a pair of Seekers bound his wrists together behind his back.

Bethany picked herself up with Garrett's help. "Quentin, as in the one who nearly killed Mother? First Enchanter, did you really…?"

"No, that's––" Orsino stammered as he was forcibly marched past Cassandra. "Where's your evidence? Where did you find the evidence––!?"

Cassandra briefly met gazes with Carver while he was sheathing his sword.

Meredith caught the eye contact. She stood up, jerking away from restraining grips. "Pardon, Seeker, but I suspect the boy isn't a member of the Chantry."

Cassandra followed Meredith's gaze to Carver, and snorted. "If you mean by him not being a Templar, then you would suspect correctly. Ser Carver is the knight of Maric's Shield who travelled with the Divine's Left Hand and ended the Fifth Blight. He is a credible source of information claiming the presence of blighted lyrium in Kirkwall."

Meredith processed Cassandra's statement and abruptly dropped her sword in such shock and revulsion, her face contorted unrecognisably. "Blighted lyrium!?"

Bethany whipped a gaze between Carver and Garrett. "Maric's Shield?"

Carver cleared his throat while Meredith was unwillingly jockeyed to the Seekers' ship. "Regardless, these arrests affect Kirkwall's major institutions. I'm compelled to report them to the viscount."

"No need." In that moment, Marlowe Dumar briskly strode in accompanied by a complement of guardsmen and a certain Antivan merchant, who subtly slowed down and vanished into the onlooking crowd. Carver's messenger had acted in time. "As if Kirkwall isn't troubled by enough scandal! What's this I hear about arrests, Seeker––? Bride of the Maker!"

A qunari dreadnought sailed in between the Twins.

Carver stepped in. "Viscount Dumar, they come on formal business."

"Ser Carver," Marlowe weakly recognised while his guards caught him from fainting. "You drink tea with my son – and harass me about traveller records."

Carver coughed. "What we discussed about your son has reached the point of action. These new arrivals are my contacts."

Marlowe slowly straightened, sorrowful eyes watching the ship dock. "Ah. It is time, then."

Garrett, Bethany, and most all of Garrett's friends regrouped with Carver and Marlowe. Around them, Aveline barked orders at her guardsmen, Anders healed the injured, and Sebastian allayed civilians' worries over the recent outburst. A crowd of skirts and armour shuffled around and with the Seekers like frenzied ants. The docks had suddenly become the site to several unlikely parties all meeting in one place. At the centre, a cluster of Seekers carefully extracted Meredith's corrupted sword from the ground to be boxed and locked away for careful study. Carver – and Leliana – had suggested the wardens of Soldier's Peak.

"Carver," Garrett furiously whispered. "What in Maker's name."

"Ser Carver, Viscount Dumar." Cassandra strolled up to stand alongside them. Marlowe returned her nod.

"Seeker," Carver greeted without tearing his eyes from the approaching painted and horned figures. "I nearly feared you would not arrive as Leliana timed."

Cassandra snorted, which seemed to surprise those around her. Carver could admit the tall warrior was intimidating. "And subject the Circle here to you for a day longer? Test not the Maker's mercy. I must at least have certain faith in you, to sail ahead of a qunari dreadnought into Kirkwall's harbour."

Carver placed a hand on his satchel. "They're here for the Tome of Koslun and a genuine convert, Saemus Dumar." Marlowe leaked a pained sigh at his son's name. "They have also come to coordinate with Kirkwall's main powers and remove the sunken dreadnought in the coast."

Cassandra raised a brow at Carver and Marlowe. "The main powers, meaning the viscount's office."

"And the Seekers," Marlowe fretfully cut in, mind racing. "Without a knight-commander or first enchanter, Kirkwall will feel the absence of stability up-top more than ever! Oh dear, oh dear…."

Carver glanced at Bethany. "If the Chantry chooses to reform the Circle one day, the Divine will initially call on only first enchanters to meet about it."

Cassandra hummed and called out to one of the figures who was unwittingly laying down order, besides Aveline. "Knight-Captain!"

Cullen wearily trotted over. "Seeker?"

"The Seekers need streamlined communication with the Order here," Cassandra stated. "With Stannard under investigation, you're promoted to knight-commander."

Bethany pounced. "Orsino never appointed a successor so far as anyone can recall – right, Knight-Commander? Should a replacement be required, Seeker, I would be humbled to accept the position and help straighten out wrinkles as they transpire."

Cullen stammered at his sudden authority. "Enchanter Hawke does share amicable relations with most of the Circle, Seeker."

"These are rare circumstances," Cassandra stated. "Enchanter Hawke, I as Seeker promote you to First Enchanter."

Bethany beamed and hastily left the group with Cullen to organise the flustered crowd.

Garrett quietly watched her flit off. "What have I just witnessed?"

Apprehension rippled through the docks as qunari finally drew near to Marlowe, Cassandra, and Carver. The qunari were all clad in the braided rope, cloth, and leather of beresaad armour, save for the towering, hornless figure leading the group. Intricately braided ropes along the shoulders and exposed abs highlighted equally detailed vitaar patterns on the leader's grey skin, elevating him to a higher rank. A sheathed greatsword as tall as a human male hung on his back. Carver knew that from the side, the weapon would look as long and thin as a clothesline.

The group of qunari came to a halt, before the leader inclined his head. "Kadan."

"Arishok." Carver's chest warmed, inspiring a glow and small smile on his face. "I know Seheron is expanding its range of sweets, so I bought a box of assorted cookies to help. Sadly, however, it's not on me right now."

"Maraas kata," Sten, now Arishok replied smoothly. "I brought tea from Par Vollen. We should share in our wealth."

Garrett interrupted. "Unfortunately, tea time will have to wait. Carver, would you like to introduce the rest of us?"

Arishok's eyes turned less soft as they shifted to Marlowe who was wearing the black diadem of Kirkwall's viscount, Cassandra who bore the all-seeing eye symbol of the Seekers, then Garrett and the rest. "I come only for the Tome of Koslun, a viddathari, and to facilitate communication between Seheron and Kirkwall regarding the removal of a sunken dreadnought."

"Another Arishok…?" Marlowe echoed faintly.

Said qunari looked at the viscount. "Several months ago, my predecessor's growing inclination towards uncontrolled behaviour was made known to Par Vollen. His unsanctioned invasion settled the question of a court-martial. The former Arishok would have been dead whether or not he had claimed victory against the basalit-an called Champion. I have since been appointed to the position."

A month ago, the actions of a Salit and the possible actions of a Tallis had also reached certain ears. Primarily Arishok's. It had been a gesture of goodwill to help convince the Ariqun that the Arishok's friend gave trustworthy information when he did. Had Tallis not failed to kill Salit and retrieve Salit's scrolls, then hidden Ben-Hassrath would have. Garrett's contribution just helped prove that the previous Arishok's label of him as basalit-an was earned. Arishok's presence in Kirkwall would truthfully only last the time required to establish steps for removing the dreadnought's remains; he was returning to Par Vollen as soon as possible, leaving behind the necessary beresaad to continue the work.

Carver revealed the Tome of Koslun and extended it to his friend. "I knew you would."

"You contacted me for a reason." Arishok gestured, and a beresaad stepped forward to accept the tome with a bow. While the individual beresaad departed to return to the ship, Arishok turned to Carver. "The viddathari?"

This time, Marlowe did collapse, and several of Garrett's friends reflexively tried to catch him. "Saemus, my boy, oh…!"

Varric awkwardly retreated from the emotional viscount. "I'll, uh, notify the kid."

"I'll go with you," Isabela blurted and quickly disappeared with Varric.

"I can do this no more," Marlowe moaned. "My personal life has suffered for it. Messere Hawke!"

Carver and it seemed half of the dock froze at the address. In the Free Marches, nobles were called lord or lady, except rulers of a city-state; the very traditional or Orlesian among them could insist on being referred to as a comte or comtesse. For everyone else, "serah" referred to one of equal or lower station, while "messere" referred to one of higher station.

Marlowe continued weepily. "The Amells are the oldest family in the city. I have no heirs, and the nobility unanimously recognised you in their declaration of a Champion. You are the viscount of Kirkwall now!"

Garrett hastily caught the black crown pushed into his chest. Aveline and a couple guardsmen stepped in to pick the frail Marlowe up from the ground and escort him aside. The guard-captain stayed to level Garrett, Carver, Cassandra, and Arishok with a flat look.

"What happened?" Aveline demanded.

Garrett stared. "I believe I have a real job, now."

;

A/N:

I surpassed my word limit, so I'm splitting the rest of the content off for the next chapter. Thank you for your support!