Sylvanni had no intention of waiting to be announced. She pushed her way past a rather stunned looking steward in Duke Antoine's entryway, walking with a determined step farther into the house once the door was opened. The steward was left, bewildered, in her wake as he first tried to get her to stop, then settled on simply trying to keep up with her.
It had been a long journey. She'd waited long enough.
It was currently early evening, the sun setting outside, and Duke Antoine was in his dining room, enjoying an early meal. He was an oily looking man, unhandsome but not unfashionable. The table was set with an extravagant meal, even for nobility, despite the fact that he was the only person in attendance. The idea that a man who was so monstrous could live in such luxury turned Sylvanni's stomach.
Antoine looked up in surprise from his spot at the head of the table, spoon poised halfway to his mouth at the sight of three fully armored elves and a Qunari walking into his house as though they owned the place. Sylvanni looked into his eyes and saw confusion there. Worry perhaps, but not yet fear.
She planned to fix that.
The steward, much to his credit, managed to squeeze his way past the party only moments after they entered, giving the Duke a small bow. "Lady Inquisitor Lavellan, and companions, my Lord." He sounded only slightly out of breath.
There it was. Oh, he hid it well. Just a slight widening of the eyes, the barest hint of stiffness entering his posture, but she'd been watching for the reaction. Terror. She hoped the sight of her had made his heart leap into his throat. She hoped that his heart was racing. It was only natural. He should be afraid of her. She'd do far more to him before she was done.
Outwardly, at least, he maintained a good semblance of composure. He picked up the napkin from his lap, folding it on the table beside his silverware, but he gripped the fabric just a little too tightly. "My Lady," he said, giving a small still-seated bow in her direction. "Please join me at the table. You have no doubt traveled a long way. To what do I owe the pleasure of your unexpected company?"
She made no move to sit. "You may address me as Inquisitor Lavellan, Duke Antoine, or simply Inquisitor. My business here is personal, of course. After receiving your tragic correspondence regarding the fate of my clan, it seemed only fitting that I travel here, to mourn them and to express my gratitude to you."
He had the air of a cornered fox about him, wary and watching for an opportunity to strike. "Your gratitude?"
'Of course," she said. "For what aid you were able to give Clan Lavellan in this time. You were their last ally, the last person to work with those I called my own. In a way, I could consider you family for the service you provided to them." Saying the words made her want to gag, but she pushed through it.
"The Inquisitor is too kind," he said carefully.
"Yes, she is," Sylvanni said under her breath. She continued more audibly, covering the muttering with a small cough. "It is a rare misfortune that my entire clan should fall to something so disorganized as a group of bandits. Especially with your aid, is it not? A group of lawless thieves, able to overcome the combined forces of a Dalish clan and a Duke's retinue. They must be impressive indeed. How many men did you lose in their defense?"
"Very few, Lady Inquisitor," he said. "As I informed your ambassador in my letter, the problem was that my men arrived too late to help your clan, not that they were overwhelmed."
She gave a small nod and a smile that didn't touch her eyes. "Of course. My mistake. Tell me, did you march with your men? Or was Corypheus satisfied with you giving the order to exterminate a group of innocents without leaving the comfort of your own home?"
His eyes widened as her tone turned savage with the accusation, and he immediately started reaching for his sword. When she started to move forward, he stood and started calling for guards. She cast a spell without even thinking, stepping through the Fade in order to blink across the room. As she peeled back to reality, she used the momentum lent by the spell to shove the Duke back against the wall. His sword clattered to the floor as she pushed him back, cries for his guards cutting off with a strangled noise...
As a mage, she seldom found reason to use the dagger she carried in combat, but as Antoine stumbled backward, she found the small blade in her hand. She brought it up next to his neck with savage quickness, a quiet snarl escaping her lips. Her staff had a blade on the end, and it would have been sharp enough to threaten him, but she wanted to be close. She wanted him to look into her eyes as she forced him to yield, no room to breathe, no room to escape.
Behind her came the clanks and stomps of armored men entering the room, accompanied by a rather creative string of swears from Sera. From the sound of it, they were quite a crowd, but Sylvanni didn't turn to look. She simply held Antoine with her knife pressed against his neck, pinning him to the wall as much with a stony glare as with the knife blade.
"Inquisitor," Solas said calmly somewhere off to her left. "We appear to be both outnumbered and surrounded."
"These ain't house guards either," Iron Bull rumbled. "I know the look of mercs when I see 'em."
Sylvanni wondered if she should be surprised by how calm she felt, even with the odds against them if this inevitably turned to a fight. She wanted to believe that it was simple confidence in their skills, but if she was being honest, all she seemed to be able to care about was the Duke. So long as she had him trapped, little else seemed to matter to her.
She pushed her knife closer, and Antoine whimpered, flinching slightly as the blade made a small cut. "My dear Duke Antoine," she said in a voice that could have cut steel. "It seems that the 'bandits' who attacked my clan have come after you in the safety of your own home. Lucky that the Inquisition is here to protect you from them, isn't it?"
"Please," Antoine begged, breathing as shallowly as possible to keep her dagger from cutting him. "Have mercy, Lady Inquisitor."
"Mercy?" she snarled. "You have the audacity to ask me for mercy after what you've done?"
"The men," he said. "Please, they were only following my orders."
She took a small step backward, extending her arm to keep the dagger at his throat. "I will consider that your confession."
Without warning, she whipped her hand up in front of her face, using the motion to focus a blast of spirit energy outward in all directions. The duke's head snapped backward as he was flung against the wall, collapsing into a slump as she whirled to face the room of mercenaries. Solas reacted immediately to her aggressive move, throwing up a barrier around the four of them. None too soon, either, as two of the mercenaries had been carrying bows. The conjured protection flared with light as it deflected two arrows from her, its magic weakening noticeably where they hit.
The dining room was not terribly large, but there was enough space to move around in at least. Sera was already letting arrows fly, each one finding their targets. Iron Bull let out a war cry, charging across the room as some four or five mercenaries converged on him. Solas had pulled out his staff and was incapacitating the archers from afar, and Sylvanni's first instinct was to join him, but she paused for just a heartbeat. Thoughts racing in the onset of a fight, she realized what she wanted to do.
Antoine groaned behind her, not unconscious, but certainly not in fighting condition either. She didn't want him to make him fear that he'd upset a mage using her arcane power, or even that he'd upset the Inquisitor using political power. She wanted him to know the fear of facing the Herald of Andraste, the only person who could stand against Corypheus.
The only person in Thedas with power to tear open the Fade.
Leaving her staff in the sheath at her back, she raised her arm, bracing the wrist with her other hand and felt her mark flash and spark as she drew power from it. A green light burst into being over the table as she brought the Rift into being. The screeching noise as reality was torn apart was almost deafening in the confined space. Men began to scream as the raw energy ripped into them. She was able to protect her companions from the spirit energy, in the same way she protected them from all of her spells, and the three of them paused, watching as her Rift incapacitated the entire room.
It didn't take long to finish. Opening Rifts like this was always brutally effective work. Just to be on the safe side, she waited until all of the mercenaries had stopped moving before finally releasing the Fade and letting the tear snap back closed again.
She slumped just slightly, the effort of holding the tear open for so long having drained her, then turned back to look at the Duke. He'd been outside the range of the Rift's effects, but he'd seen everything. He was shaking, face bloodlessly white and his expression seemed frozen in an open-mouthed gape. When her eyes fell on him, he flinched visibly.
Good. As it should be.
"W-what… what are you g-going to do with me?" From the way his voice was shaking, Antoine might have been on the verge of tears. She considered that a personal victory as well.
Her eyes flicked to Bull, and she nodded for the Qunari to tie up Skyhold's latest prisoner. "You, Duke Antoine? You're coming with us."