Note: And welcome to Team Lahara…
This is significantly different to the game's version of events, just to warn you, so expect omissions and alterations.
The carriage ride to Halamshiral was more comfortable than Lahara was used to, but it was no less as tedious. She let out another sigh, curling up on the halla-leather seats. Josephine and Leliana sat opposite, exchanging fond memories of their last visit. Leliana was most animated, her words like liquid silver, and it made Lahara smile. Her companions often spoke of the spymaster's penchant for storytelling, although Leliana seemed to have done everything to deny that so far. Now her silent burden had been cast off, it was as if she were making up for lost time, and Lahara knew exactly who to thank for it.
Of course, thinking about Elissa also triggered thoughts of a certain mage, and Lahara rested her chin in her hand. Bethany's absence left a dull ache inside, but at the same time, Lahara was relieved Elissa hadn't gone on her journey alone. In truth, it was the best compromise, as the pair were used to looking out for each other. After all, they had spent four years on the run, and Alistair was no push-over, either. They would be just fine.
Still, Lahara was nothing if not impatient. Since she and Bethany had admitted their feelings for each other, this would be the longest time they'd spent apart. Their mission couldn't be over soon enough.
"So, Lara, will this be your first time attending such an occasion?" Josephine asked, breaking the Herald's thoughts. "Although I imagine as a Trevelyan, you must have been invited to many noble gatherings."
"Oh, I only ever went to just one," Lahara said, sitting properly again. "My first and last." She fingered her lyrium collar, which was half-hidden by her dress uniform. "I was eight years old, and it was the Marquis of Markham's anniversary or something. When we arrived, my parents promptly dumped me with the other brats to go and socialise." She smirked, and her collar clicked. "This girl, daughter of some baron I think, felt she was so much better than me. Kept making fun of my outfit, my hair, my eyes, you know, all that stuff. So I let her keep goading and goading…and then I set her dress on fire."
Leliana chuckled, while Josephine raised a brow.
"First time the Markham Templars were forced to escort a mage to Ostwick in one night, the baroness paid them so much," Lahara went on, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Joseph almost had kittens when I showed up at the Dragon Tower the next day. Had to pick his jaw up for him!"
"Oh, that's right, your brother was a mage as well." Josephine became subdued. "I am sorry, Lara. I didn't think…"
"Don't sweat it, Josie." Lahara brushed off her concern. "I prefer remembering those times, not…what happened in the end." She smirked, letting darker thoughts fall aside. "But don't worry, I don't plan to set anyone on fire this time. Then again, if I'm bored, I could always freeze someone into an ice statue…"
"Lara, you wouldn't!" Josephine spluttered.
"You wouldn't be the first to do so, Inquisitor," Leliana pointed out.
"Well, that makes it all the more acceptable then," Lahara said. Josephine glared at her, and the Herald laughed. "Aw come on, I'm only joking!"
"You had better be," the ambassador huffed. "We have enough eyes upon us without you causing a scene."
"Heh, don't need to tell me twice," Lahara said. "Seriously, it sounds like this get-together is a really big do, even for Orlais."
"It is indeed," Leliana said. "The fate of the empire lies at stake. And the Winter Palace is as treacherous a battleground as any front line."
"Except here the duels are fought with words, not blades," Josephine added. "Well…no blades used in public view, at least."
"I guess I'd better watch my back, then," Lahara said. She brought a hand to her chin. "So, if I've got this straight, we're supposed to get cosy with Duke Gaspard, and make him support us rather than our darkspawn abomination friend?" Leliana and Josephine nodded. "Do we have much in the way of a strategy for this?"
"Our main priority is information," Leliana answered. "I am mostly aware of the current goings on, but having first-hand knowledge will be better. Celene's involvement with the elves had dredged up much controversy, and we will need to know where this leaves her."
"Yeah, you two are accomplished players of the Game, after all," Lahara said. "I'll just pose for the curious onlookers and wait for your cue."
"Curious onlookers there will be plenty," Josephine said. "You will be a novelty, Inquisitor, and idle tongues will speak freely about you. Not all pleasantly, either. Many will try to use you to gain favour with the Duke, or whisper to the Empress that we are a threat. You must choose how you speak and act carefully."
"Oh, the trials of being famous," Lahara grumbled, resting her hands behind her head. It seemed the part of her life she had been glad to leave behind had returned to haunt her. "Alright, so we're just watching and waiting for the time-being. I can handle that."
"You might need to be a little more pro-active later," Leliana said. "We will have to see what unfolds."
The conversation fell away, but it was just as well, as shortly after their carriage came to a halt. Lahara glanced out of the window, catching the silhouette of the palace. She licked her lips, her heart pounding, and her collar clicked again. Here went nothing.
The carriage door opened, and an Inquisition soldier offered his hand. Lahara took it, and stepped out before the gates. The gardens were brimming with nobles, and Lahara could not hold back her gasp as her eyes fell upon the Winter Palace. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, a sprawling mass of blue, white and gold, with balconies draped in foliage, high turrets and scores of bright porticoes. A magnificent fountain graced the front, and beneath the full moon it seemed even more enchanting.
A nudge caught her side, and Lahara closed her mouth. Josephine giggled.
"I felt the same way the first time I laid eyes on it, too," the ambassador admitted. "It is not a sight easily forgotten."
"It's, ah, it's got nothing on the Griffon Tower in Ostwick," Lahara said, rubbing the back of her neck. Maker, she must have looked graceful.
"Wait until you see the inside," Leliana added. She was leaning on an ivory cane, and Lahara caught the silver nightingale on its handle. The Herald's brow arched.
"Can you walk with just that?" she asked.
"I can now." Leliana glanced to her left leg. "Dagna and Eliza crafted a brace for me, and it has been very helpful." She raised her cane, proving she could even stand without its help. "Perhaps with more training I might be able to walk without aid altogether, but I will take things slowly."
"That's fantastic," Lahara said, brushing her fingers against her lyrium collar. "We're lucky to have those two, aren't we? I bet Elissa will be chuffed when she gets back."
Before Leliana could answer, steps approached, and the rest of Lahara's entourage appeared. Lahara surveyed them, and couldn't help but smile. It was strange to see everyone in dress uniform, especially Iron Bull and Solas, but it did wonders for their presentation. The Inquisition were a force to be reckoned with, and it was about time they were recognised for it.
"So, this is the famous Winter Palace," Dorian remarked, twirling his moustache. "It's making me homesick already."
"It has not changed one bit." Cassandra's lip curled, and she folded her arms. "That is not a good thing."
"It's certainly…very Orlesian," Cullen muttered, fiddling with his gloves. His brow glistened slightly, and he shuffled on his feet. Lahara had to hold back her smirk. He seemed very uncomfortable in such an environment. Solas, too, was similarly edgy, but for altogether different reasons.
"Hey, it's a party, and you know what that means!" Iron Bull slammed his palm into Cullen's back, and the Commander coughed. "Cut loose, man, let yourself live a little!"
"Please show some decorum, Iron Bull!" Josephine said. "At least until we are formally announced."
"Yes, let us not keep the Duke waiting." Leliana nodded towards the gardens. "We are his honoured guests, after all."
"Let's say hello, then," Lahara said.
Squaring her shoulders, the Herald sucked in a breath, then led the way through the gates. The effect was instant. Every noble turned to look, and hushed whispers spread like wildfire. Lahara swallowed, her neck clammy. She was glad for the gloves that masked the marks on her hands, although that didn't stop people staring. Her hearing was also suddenly keen, and their words made her fist clench.
"A mage? I thought that was just a rumour. Andraste help us all!"
"Still, at least she is of noble blood, no?"
"A Free Marcher? The Maker has an odd sense of humour, indeed…"
Pushing such remarks to the back of her mind, Lahara scanned the garden. It did not take long before one of the nobles left the fountain and started towards her. She stepped forward, meeting eyes with the masked gentleman. It could only be the Duke himself.
"Ah, greetings, Lady Inquisitor!" he said, in a thick Orlesian accent. "It is an honour to finally meet you."
"The honour is all mine," Lahara answered, fighting down her grimace. She'd almost forgotten the speech pattern her parents had drilled into her when she was younger, and she was not happy to hear its return. "The Inquisition is delighted to attend at your kind invitation, your Grace."
"I have heard many stories about your exploits," the Duke went on. "You summoned the earth-fire of the Frostbacks themselves, and the ash cloud still drifts over Orlais, even now." He chortled. "You are a formidable force indeed, yet your influence is not what it could be." He paused, a smile gracing his lips. "Were you to assist the rightful Emperor in reclaiming his throne, however, that could easily be amended."
A dry retort was on Lahara's lips, but Josephine flashed a wary glance. Resisting the temptation to roll her eyes, Lahara took a breath.
"The Inquisition is always open to favourable alliances." She swallowed the bile in her throat, and her collar clicked. Maker, this diplomacy burned her mouth as much as the vent chamber.
"Such a thing may come to pass by the evening's end," Duke Gaspard said. "Alas, before we enter the Court, there is one other matter I would like to raise, if you would be so kind."
"I'm all ears," Lahara said, before biting her tongue. Whoops. The vein on Josephine's temple bulged, and she held a hand to her forehead.
The Duke raised a brow, but made no comment.
"The Empress is in danger," he began. "I would therefore ask that you keep watch on that elven 'ambassador', Briala. She has a history with Celene, for she was close to my cousin, before she was arrested to cover up a political mistake." His eyes darkened behind his mask. "Briala's allies are everywhere, and if anyone is out to harm Celene tonight, it would be her."
"I'll keep my eyes open," Lahara said. "Thanks for the tip."
"Try to be discrete about it," Duke Gaspard continued. "I despise the Game and its foolish machinations, but if we are not careful, we will become the pawns, and our enemies will take pride in disposing of us as they see fit."
"Got it. You won't even know I've left the ballroom," Lahara said.
"Excellent. Then let us not keep the Court waiting." The Duke offered his arm. "Shall we, Inquisitor?"
Sighing, Lahara took the Duke's elbow. That title was never going to grow on her.
Duke Gaspard walked slowly into the atrium, ensuring everyone was watching. More than a few mouths hung agape, and another round of bemused muttering rang through. Lahara kept her head high, although it took all of her willpower not to burst into a giggling fit. A sign of her nervousness, perhaps. She could only imagine what Josephine was thinking right now.
At last, the ballroom doors were opened, and Lahara and the Duke stepped onto the upper balcony. He released her, giving a nod, before making towards the royal herald. Lahara waited, letting her companions catch up. Someone gently poked her back, and she stiffened.
"Follow the Duke," Leliana murmured in her ear. "Then you must address the Empress directly. We will meet up afterwards."
Lahara gave a slight nod, wishing she didn't feel quite so out of her depth. Adjusting her sash, she walked down the marble staircase, taking her place beside Duke Gaspard. The members of the Court turned, intent on the new guests.
"And now, presenting," the herald called, "Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons, accomplished war veteran and respected General of the Imperial Army."
The Duke bowed, then descended to the ballroom floor. Lahara licked her lips, resisting the urge to fiddle with her lyrium collar.
"Accompanying him, is Lady Inquisitor Lahara Nevenka Julia Trevelyan, youngest scion of House Trevelyan, esteemed Mage of Ostwick Circle, crusher of the rebel mages of Ferelden, and Champion of Lady Andraste herself."
Lahara's lips twitched, desperate not to break down into laughter. Her full name was haughty enough, but esteemed mage of Ostwick? Crusher of rebel mages? Maker's breath, if only Joseph could hear this now…
Before her mask would crumble, she gave a bow, then sauntered after the Duke. The announcer continued, introducing the rest of her companions. When he started on Cassandra, Lahara had to hold her hand to her mouth. And she had thought her own name lavish enough. No wonder the Seeker had been so reluctant to attend.
Eventually she joined Duke Gaspard again. They stood before the Empress, who perched behind the upper floor railing. Like all the other nobles she was similarly masked, and another woman stood beside her.
The Duke bowed his head.
"Cousin. My dear sister," he said simply.
"Grand Duke." Empress Celene gave a short curtsey. "We are always honoured when your presence graces the Court."
"I do not have time for pleasantries, Celene," the Duke answered, curt. "We have important business to conclude."
"Once we have seen to our remaining guests, we will start the negotiations." The Empress's tone was unchanged. Lahara kept her gaze ahead, starting to realise why Orlesian nobility were so keen on their masks.
Duke Gaspard's only response was a further bow. He nodded to Lahara, then clasped his arms behind his back and walked away. Lahara had no doubt he would corner her later. She was not looking forward to it.
"Lady Inquisitor, it is a joy to welcome you to the Winter Palace," the Empress said. She glanced to the woman beside her. "May I also present our cousin, the Grand Duchess of Lydes, whom we have to thank for this gathering tonight."
"It is a surprise to see the Inquisition joining our festivities," the Grand Duchess said, although her voice hinted it was anything but. "We will certainly speak later. Please excuse me."
She departed into the shadows. Lahara fought back a shiver, her skin crawling. All these veiled words and guarded intentions; how was anyone supposed to enjoy themselves? Even Hawke's offer of trawling the Deep Roads was starting to sound more enticing.
"Lady Inquisitor, you seem lost for words." The Empress raised a brow. "Does Halamshiral sour your tongue so?"
Lahara blinked, her cheeks flushing. Damn it, say something!
"Oh, um, not at all, Your Imperial Highness, er, quite the contrary," she stammered. "Everything's so, uh, captivating, I'm just so overwhelmed. I have no words."
"You kindness does you credit, Inquisitor," Empress Celene replied, her gaze softening. "Please, do not let me keep you. Enjoy the pleasures of the ballroom."
She turned slightly, signifying dismissal, and Lahara all but ran back to the upper balcony. Sweat pooled around her collar, and she leant against a pillar, taking slow breaths. Maker, how embarrassing.
"You did well, Lara." Leliana approached from the wall, at complete ease with the environment. Lahara frowned, more than slightly jealous. "We can talk outside."
She walked them to the nearest balcony, her cane clacking against the tiles. It did not go unnoticed, and Lahara tensed. Murmurs of 'lame' and 'broken' slipped past, and although Leliana gave no reaction, Lahara had to resist her urge to death-glare. She could not break the façade, not yet. Still, since they enjoyed their back-stabbing Game so much, she would teach them a thing or two later.
It was not a moment too soon they stepped into the cool night air. Lahara savoured the breeze, and wiped her brow. Leliana leant against the railing, her eyes expectant.
"So," she began, "what did the Duke say?"
Lahara ran a hand through her hair. Better to focus on what they had come for.
"He seems eager to point fingers," she said. "Asked me to keep an eye on an elven woman named Briala. He thinks she's planning something tonight."
"I see," Leliana murmured. "I am not surprised, but do not let his intentions fool you. He has just as much motive to assassinate Celene, and similar means to achieve it."
"Great, a love triangle of knives instead of roses," Lahara muttered. "And there's more people pulling strings than there should be." She shook her head. "Can't we freeze the whole place over and call it a night?"
"We never said this would be easy," Leliana said. "This is a start, but we need more if we are to prevent Orlais collapsing. The main players are quick to accuse one another, but it is obvious another power is at work, too. Who they are acting through, however, we must find out."
"Gotcha," Lahara answered. "Gaspard wasn't exactly forthcoming, so I suppose Briala is our next bet."
"Yes," Leliana said. "Head for the servant's quarters, and see what you can find. My spies will continue to soak up what they can, and I will remain here."
"Thanks, Leliana," Lahara said. She clasped the spymaster's shoulder. "Speaking of which, are you alright?"
Leliana let out a slow breath.
"I am…managing," she said at last, glancing aside. "I expected such comments, it was only natural."
"Doesn't make them hurt any less," Lahara said. "I can rough them up a bit from the sidelines if you want?"
Leliana smiled.
"There is no need, Inquisitor." She fingered the pendant around her throat. "Besides, I cannot afford to be distracted."
Lahara's gaze softened.
"Hey, it's not a crime to worry about her too, you know," she said. "You don't think I get all twisted inside about Beth?" She patted Leliana's arm. "They'll be fine, we just have to hang in there. We'll all be together again before you know it."
Leliana nodded.
"Yes, we will." She squeezed Lahara's wrist. "Now go, and be careful."
"Well, this is a fun start."
Lahara stepped into the servant's wing, wincing. Dorian and Cassandra followed, similarly disquieted. The door lock had been picked, and while the hall was clear, the first room was a mess. Amongst the broken tables and benches lay several bodies, their blood cooling on the tiles. The stench was overpowering, and Lahara had to breathe through her mouth. She had not expected to find such carnage so quickly.
"And the Orlesians pride themselves on their great 'Game'," Dorian scoffed, avoiding the crimson puddles. "This would be considered very sloppy back home."
"This is far too overt, even by these fools' ridiculous 'standards'." Cassandra approached the nearest corpse, her brows knitted. "These are sword wounds, made by a well-trained arm."
"Hmm, at least it's not magic, then," Lahara murmured. "Still, I wonder…"
She was cut off by a string of cusses, followed by the twang of a bow. It was coming from the gardens. Frowning, Lahara bolted for the door, Dorian and Cassandra at her heels.
They raced into the maze of trellises and vines. Every passage was gloomy and fragrant, threatening dead ends, but the shout came again, and eventually they emerged into the courtyard. A group of soldiers were there, facing a lone elf. She had short-cropped blonde hair, and had an arrow nocked. However, she hesitated to fire; her quiver was empty. Another elf sheltered beneath a portico, clutching their wounded arm.
"Get the sodding hell away from me, you freaky shits!" the elf spat, her voice undoubtedly Ferelden. "Eyes are not supposed to glow like that!"
The soldiers grunted, and Lahara gasped. Fragments of red crystal bulged beneath their armour, casting eerie light onto their swords.
Maker, you've got to be kidding me…
"Heads up!" Lahara cried, sprinting into the fray. The soldiers hesitated, enough for Lahara to shoot a lightning spell. They cried out, swiping blind with their blades, as Dorian added ice to the mix. Cassandra charged, smashing through the first like tissue paper, and her sword cleaved the next. Lahara threw another burst of lightning, while the elf archer shot the last one in the throat.
An uneasy quiet descended, and Lahara dusted her hands. Her Shard prickled, and she clenched her jaw. This was very, very bad.
"Don't tell me that's you-know-what," Dorian said, scowling at the fallen soldiers. "How in the Maker's name did they get in contact with it?"
"No clue, but three guesses who brought it here," Lahara drawled. She knelt beside the soldiers, stripping off their armour and exposing the crystals that still choked their flesh.
"'Ey, you really shouldn't touch that, yeah?" the elf warned, lowering her bow.
"It's alright, I got this," Lahara said. "Can't let this stuff spread."
She held her hand over the tainted wounds, and her Shard lit up. The crystals burned away, reduced to smoke, and the soldiers' bodies returned to normal. Lahara sighed, shaking her fingers. Such a waste. As she stood up again, the elf woman stared.
"Andraste's tits, you're not that sodding…no, never mind." The elf glanced to her wounded comrade. "Can you help this idiot for me?"
"I'll try," Lahara said. Her healing was no way near as accomplished as Bethany's, but it would do in a pinch.
She jogged over to the injured elf, discovering another servant beside him who had not been so lucky. Thankfully there was no trace of red lyrium on either of them, so she set to work. The elf winced, the healing aura sealing up the cut. The elf woman cringed, taking a step back.
"Thank you," the servant said, his face still sweaty. "I'm so sorry, Sera. I didn't realise…"
"You can shut your mouth, yeah?" Sera's brow twitched, still uneasy. "Made me come all this sodding way, and for what, Geraint? Darrien's dead and I can't get these creepy bastards's glowy eyes out of my head!" She snatched his collar. "We're Friends of Red Jenny, we do stuff to bring nobles down a few notches, not play their arse shitty Game! What the bloody hell were you thinking?!"
"Sera, I didn't know, I swear!" Geraint pleaded. "I needed your help, I had no-one else to turn to!"
Sera growled. She raised her arm, fist clenched, when Lahara gripped her wrist.
"Hey, chill out a second," she said. "He said he was sorry."
"Sorry don't bring back the dead, does it?!" Sera hissed, shaking off the Herald's hand. "What it's to you, anyway, mage-face? It's none of your sodding…"
"This woman saved us, Sera," Geraint said. "Don't be so quick to judge."
Sera's eyes flared. For a long moment she glared at Geraint, her arm trembling. Then she let it drop, and she let out a flustered breath.
"Alright. Guess I should say thanks, yeah?" She shouldered her bow and stood up. "But keep your weird magey-crap away from me."
"Whatever you say." Lahara flexed her fingers.
"Do you know how these soldiers ended up like this?" Dorian asked. "Or who they're working for?"
"Ugh, why do mages ask so many questions," Sera snorted.
Dorian scowled, but Lahara held up her hand.
"Look, I get the feeling you don't like us mages much," she said, "but you have to admit you still owe us. Least you can do is fill us in."
Sera pursed her lips, still defiant.
"We're wasting time, Inquisitor," Dorian piped up. "It's no use, we should…"
Sera's eyes bulged.
"Wait, you're the sodding Inquisitor?!" She gawked, looking Lahara up and down. "Then…shit, you really are…" She bit her lip. "No, can't be. You're just arseing around with me."
"I am?" Lahara asked.
"You can't be the high and mighty Inquisitor," Sera said. "You helped us, you don't mind getting your hands dirty, and you don't talk all shitty either!" She shook her head. "But you're like, all important, yeah? You should be all…up your own arse and that!"
"Sorry to disappoint?" Lahara shrugged. "I'll try harder to belittle you next time."
"Please, Inquisitor, can you help us?" Geraint touched Lahara's knee. "I…I'm one of Briala's agents. She told us Duke Gaspard had moved mercenaries into the palace, and wanted us to watch them. They went into the guest wing, but when they came out, something changed. Those crystals appeared, and now they strike at anything that gets their attention."
"Sounds like we have a date with this guest wing," Lahara stated. "How do we get there?"
Geraint reached into his pocket, withdrawing a key.
"This will unlock the lower entrance, over there," he said, pointing. "It's just beside the storeroom."
"Thank you," Lahara smiled. "We'll check it out. Hope you get well soon."
She stood, giving a brief stretch, when something tugged at her sash.
"I'm coming with," Sera said.
Lahara raised a brow. "Sure you want to face more of those creepy glowy eyes?"
"Pfft, course I bloody don't, but no choice, yeah?" Sera answered. "Can't sit on my arse when I can put arrows in more of those things for Darrien's sake." She thumped Geraint's shoulder. "You just get out of here, yeah."
"Get the other servants to keep clear, too," Lahara warned. "Red lyrium isn't picky about who it infects."
"I will." Geraint rose to his feet, then picked up Darrien's body. "Thank you, Inquisitor."
He retreated to the servants' rooms, while Lahara twirled the key in her fingers.
"Well, isn't this interesting," she commented. "Gaspard's had his men infiltrate the palace, got them afflicted with red lyrium, and Briala's agents are suffering the consequences." She shook her head. "Looks like we're already too late."
"I'm not so sure," Dorian countered. "Much as Gaspard seems the direct type, a full-on assault against Celene is too risky. And if the Duke was so confident, he would not be up there waiting. I would wager he's not aware of the red lyrium."
"Maybe, but he's definitely not innocent, either," Lahara answered.
"We are wasting time standing and speculating," Cassandra growled. "Whoever is behind this, we need to find the red lyrium's source and destroy it, before it affects the rest of the palace."
"What the hell are you lot on about?" Sera scoffed, retrieving her arrows from the fallen soldiers. "Just take me to things I can shoot already!"
"Won't argue with that logic," Lahara chuckled, clasping the key. "Alright, it's time to go hunting."