Dragon Age:

Origins

(Book 1 of 7)

Chapter Eight

The air was full of dust, enough to choke a bronto on a good day and today was not a good day. The heat from the great forges and the bellows made it hard to breath with how it hot it was and it was almost impossible for him to catch a breath of air. He pushed through a crowd of people, ignoring their coughs and their curses as made his way out.

He felt the weight shift under himself and when he glanced down he saw that his coin purse had been lifted from his belt, he let out a sigh before he reached for a dagger on the other side of his belt and drew a knife. He spun on his heels and almost lazily threw the dagger, once he had heard the grunt he knew that he had found his mark. He smiled, bitterly but a smile was a smile, as the crowd screamed and ran in a thousand different directions.

He walked over to the body and knelt down and jerked the knife free from his back before he patted the body down and came away with a small knife with a pretty purple stone set into the hilt. It was hardly much to come away from an attempted theft but he had his coin purse back and the knife looked like it was good steel, if he could pry the jewel out then he could get a good price for it, at least a few pieces of silver.

There was also a small pouch of coins, naught in there but a few coppers but he wasn't about to turn up his nose at that. When you lived in Dust Town, when you were nothing, less than nothing, you took what you could get and even then it was never enough. Every morning you would find some other poor duster who had too much, who had slid some cheap iron into their own gut or had cut their wrists or their throat.

And that was for those who had been lucky enough to own a good solid piece of iron, those that didn't own any at all would often have no other recourse than to pick themselves up and walk down into the Deep Roads, if they were lucky then the Darkspawn would kill them before the taint had a chance to set in. Even then, some choose to simply cast themselves into one of the great forges or the streams of molten metal that fed into them through out the entire day.

And then, some just laid where they fell and waited for the hunger to kill them, or the thirst or the unbearable heat in the night. Death was a constant companion in Dust Town and many and more had welcome it's embrace since he was a lad and many more would after he had embraced her and gone to the stone. Such was always to be their fate.

When he had been younger it had always made him angry but as he had gotten older he had realised that he might as well be angry at the stone for being stone or for molten metal being hot and burning you when you touched it. Eventually, he had just came to accept that it was part of being a duster. No one in any of the other quarters cared about them at all and everyone in Dust Town was simply to busy to care about themselves and their own to care about what happened to anyone else around them.

That was just the way it was, and that he had to deal with for the rest of time. He sighed and brought up his arm to brush away the sweat on his brow before he placed the knife into one of the pouches on his belt and slid his own back in his sheath before he continued on his way. Walking through Dust Town was never safe, everyone knew that but he was one of Beraht's men and if there was one rule in Dust Town it was that you didn't mess with Beraht and you didn't mess with one of his own.

Obviously, that pickpocket hadn't learned that one, simple rule. Don't fuck with Beraht. Well, now he would never learn it at all. The scavengers would come for him soon enough, they would strip him of his boots and his clothes and anything else that looked slightly valuable on his body and to the scavengers of Dust Town, everything was valuable.

Thankfully, he wasn't far from his house. As Dust Town houses went...well, it kept them warm and the walls and doors were solid and they were not as like to have their throats cut in the middle of the night and when you were less than nothing that was really all you could ask for. It didn't change the fact that there were cracks in the walls that let in rats and lice and other things that bite in the middle of the night.

He strode up the steps to the door and rapped her knuckles against the door, there was a clank as the eyehole in the middle of the door and a green eye that was flecked with hazel appeared on the other side of it. After half a heartbeat, there was a dull thud that meant the wooden beam barring the door had been removed and the door swung open and he wasted no time, practically throwing himself inside.

The door was quickly shut and the wooden beam was replaced and he soon found himself with arms full of his sister. Rica was older than him by almost six whole years but sometimes he had found that he had forgotten that. She was smaller than he was and there was something about her that screamed out to be protected, a meekness. "I'm alright Rica, only late by a few minutes. Nothing to worry about."

Rica pulled back and then slapped him on the back of her head, it hurt but he couldn't help but laugh when he realised that Rick had to stand on her toes in order to reach him where as when he was a child Rica wouldn't have to stoop at all. "A few minutes can be the difference between life and death, you should know that better than I do Faren. What took you so long?"

"Beraht had us deal with some idiots who were moving on his territory." And all of Dust Town was his territory, so any fools who dared to challenge him really did have it coming. He could still taste the cinders in his mouth and the heat on his face when they had burst into the hideout, all of them having a touch in one hand and axes or short swords in their other.

No one had been able to stand against him, he had struck fast and he had struck hard and it had been done with soon enough. His hatchet had been buried into skulls over and over again and he had shoved the flame of his torch straight into the face of the rival leader. He still remembered the way he had smelt, the awful smoke that had risen from him as his hair had caught on fire.

Ancestors, he didn't want to do this anymore. Faren sighed heavily and rubbed at his eyes as he walked over to the table and picked up one of the many half empty flagons of wine. He poured himself some into the chipped wooden cup and brought it up to his to take a swing. If there was some sort of halfway point between swill and vinegar then this wine would be at that point. He shouldn't be surprised he knew, but all he had really wanted was a nice cup of wine to ease the stresses of the day.

He still swallowed it down and finished the rest of the cup, he had learned long ago to finish off every scrap of food and ever swallow of wine, you never know when or if you would get to eat again and there had been plenty of days when he hadn't, even when Rica had sacrificed her own stale heel of bread for him which he was ashamed to admit happened more often than it should.

Once his cup was empty he placed back down on the table and used the back of his hand to roughly wipe at his mouth before he turned his attention fully on to Rica. "Where is she?"

Rica sighed and gestured over into a corner near the cold heath filled with ashes, Faren couldn't even remember the last time they had been able to get a fire going. Still, it was one of the warmer spots in the house and their Mother was curled up in front of it, snoring loudly. A dozen or so flagons of wine were surrounding her and not a single one of them had even a trickle of wine left inside of them, which did not surprise him at all.

Whenever they did manage to get some coin in, it never lasted long with the drunken old sow taking it from them and going to get herself another flagon. After a while, they had both learned the lesson that it was better to just let her go. She was a drunk and was slowly killing herself and when she drank she fell into sad moods, but she was never violent and didn't lay a finger on them when she was drinking.

It was only when they tried to stop her from getting some more wine that they often found themselves walking away with bruises. Any love that either he or Rica had born for her had faded away a long time ago, and yet despite all of the wine that she had drunk over the years she never seemed to get any sicker and Faren had to wonder if she was clinging on to life just to spite them.

For half a moment, the insane notion of going over there and kicking her in the gut entered his head but as soon as it was there it was gone and he simply let out a sigh. "Not surprised, how've you been sister?" He asked, but he knew that he didn't need too. Rica was dressed in a pretty silk dress that was their family's closest guarded secret and her face was painted along with her nails. Faren wasn't the only one working for Beraht, though Rica's working and his could not be more different.

He hated that she had to do it, that she had to find some snob from the Diamond Quarter and try and sell herself to one of them, he knew that it could be worse. She could be forced to sell herself to anyone with two coppers to rub together but that didn't provide him with much comfort and he doubted that it gave much comfort to Rica either.

She tried to give him the smile that meant everything was fine, but he had learned how to see through that a very long time ago. "It was fine, well. Mostly fine, I used some of the power that Beraht gave me to cover up my brand and it covered it up fine all through out the party at Lady Tromone's estate but I must have rubbed at it at some point cause on the way back here a merchant at his stall saw it and he screamed at me, he threw one of those red fruits from the surface at me and screamed at me, for the guards to come."

"The fruit didn't hit me, and I ran off before the guards even came near but it just wasn't very nice, that's all. I'm fine, Don't worry about me." Rica tried to smile again but it seemed even more forced this time. "Anyway, I've got some good news. I did actually find someone and if it all works out, well, hopefully it will get us out of this pit. Or, at the very least, a slightly nicer pit."

Faren laughed at that, even though it wasn't that funny he had always loved her for at least trying to make him laugh, even when she herself felt miserable. The least he could do was laugh at a bad joke. Rica turned then and walked into the small room that acted as a kitchen and came back out with what they called supper, it was Nug stew with a few slivers of Deep Mushrooms and bread that had been baked with sawdust.

It was hardly appetising and it was in fact a little lethal but it was better than eating nothing, which for most other people in Dust Town it was a simple reality. Beraht was a monster and a bad tempered bastard but he made sure that they always had something to eat, and that made them practically rich as far as the rest of the dusters went.

But they were still poor, wretched creatures while the old bloodlines of the Pargons supped on venison and vegetables roasted in goose fat, and fine wines from Orlais and dressed themselves in silks and gemstones and never seemed to notice them unless they were going to spit on them. Faren hated them, he had hated them since he learned what hate was, he had hated them before he had ever learned to hate his own Mother.

Whenever there was a job that required them to venture into the Diamond Quarter, he was always the first to volunteer. Not only because they were the most rewarding jobs and he more often than not needed to go on those with the amount of money that Mother squandered on wine every day. But because some small mean part of him wanted to hurt them, surely they deserved it more than anyone else in all of Orzammar.

Sadly, most of them jobs that took them into the fancy part of town were simple things, subtle. Stealing silks and spices from the Surface from the stores of wealthy merchants. The closest he had actually got to a highborn was when Beraht had tapped him to pick the lock of the vault in the estate of some highborn lady but Faren never saw her, it had been in the dead of night and they had to be quiet if they didn't want every single guard in the quarter brought down on to them.

It had been a get in, get out job and they had done if perfectly. They had carried away gold and jewels and oil paintings that were with thousands and thousands of pieces of gold according to Jarvia, not that he had ever seen any of it. No, he walked away from that job with four skins of sour wine and a light sack filled with a mixture of cooper and silver coins, with far too much cooper and far too little silver if you had asked him.

But still, it had been enough to buy them a week of food and Mother had been so busy drinking from the skins to take any of the money for herself. He was fairly sure that it had been one of the best weeks of his entire life. Not that it was saying much, to be brutally honest about it.

He and Rica finished their supper in almost silence, only Mother's snoring broke through the silence. Soon the bowls were empty and Rica stood up and took them away into the kitchen and then came back with a rough woollen blanket wrapped around her shoulders and another in her arms, which she promptly threw in his direction. "The forges will be turned off in a couple of moments, get that wrapped around you while I get a fire going."

The shock have shown on his face because Rica grinned broadly. "My friend might have given me some few nice things as a gift, I pawned a small jewel, nothing Beraht would miss and got us some fire wood." She reached into a clay pot near the front door and pulled out a fat log and a few thin twigs which she soon carried over to the fireplace.

As Rica placed the log into the place, there was a spluttering groan from their Mother as she sat up and dragged her hand over her eyes. "Uhhh...By the bloody stone and all of the sodding ancestors, what's all the fucking racket?" Once she had seen Rica kneeling next to her, she let out another groan and this was one of pure loathing. "Ancestors, you're still here then?"

Rica said nothing, she had learned long ago that it was best to simply let Mother say whatever cruel thing that came into her head rather than rise to her bait. It was not a lesson that Faren had ever truly got his head around however and he knew that as soon as his Mother turned her attention on to him, then it would not end well.

It took longer than he had expected, she had got to her feet and stumbled around for a few moments, bending down to pick up some of the flagons to see if there was any wine left in any of them. After the sixth empty one she picked up, she cursed and threw it into the wall, causing Rica to flinch when it fell to the ground with a clatter and Faren jumped out of his, unsure what he actually meant to do once he had gotten to his feet.

The sudden movement drew his Mother's attention and she turned to face him, swaying on her feet as she did so. Her eyes narrowed as they landed on him and Faren got the feeling that he was trapped in a small space with a Bronto that was about to charge at him. "So, you're back then." She spat harshly as she walked over to the table and pulled a chair out, sitting herself in it. "Thought you would've done me a bit of fucking decency and get shanked in the back."

"No Mother, I am so sorry to disappoint you, but I am still here. You can tell by the roof over your head." Faren spat back with equal venom which caused his mother to glare at him, his eyes drifted down to one of her hands when he noticed her fingers twitching and nearly curling around one of the knives. A part of him wanted her to do it, either way it would make an end to it.

After a few tense moments, she pushed herself away from the table and walked deeper into the house. "I'm going to bed, you ungrateful bastards. If I don't wake up in the morning, don't come and check on me. But if I am unlucky enough to wake up here, get me some more wine." Her words grew fainter and fainter as she walked deeper into the house until they were finally punctuated by the slam of a door.

The sound of a fire coming to life and Rica let out a sigh as she stood up from the fireplace, the firelight made her red hair shine like it was polished cooper and the skin around her eyes look red. "Well, that was nice wasn't it? She's as charming as ever."

"Would you mind terribly if I slipped into her room in the middle of the night?" Faren already knew that he wouldn't do it, he couldn't. For all she was a terrible person, for all he was terrified of her and hated her and shivered every time when he remembered her cruelty, he didn't think he would ever actually be capable of killing his own mother.

Rica knew that too, which is why she said nothing and simply smiled sadly as she came to sat next him. She reached out for his hand and Faren took it readily and his eyes slide shut as he allowed the crackling sound of burning wood and the soft heat that filled the room to lull him into the comforting darkness which was the only peace that he ever knew.

Like with all good things, it did not last. The sound of a rough, rapid knocking brought him out of his sleep and he opened his eyes to a dim room. The house had no windows so you had to often guess the time by how warm it was, the fire had long since guttered out but there was still a stuffy warmth in the air that was a telltale sign on the forges being busy which seemed to suggest that it was the morning, closer to the afternoon than the night.

Rica walked into the living room with a tray filled with what he imagined was meant to be breakfast and stared at him with wide eyes. Faren stood up from his chair and held a finger up to his lips before he turned and made his way to the door, sliding a dagger out of it's sheath as he approached the door. He gazed through the peephole, and he wasn't sure if he should relax or not once he saw that it was Beraht.

He quickly slid his dagger safely back in his sheath and removed the plank from in the front of the door and pulled open the door. When you first saw Beraht, you wouldn't think that he was a gang leader. He supposed that being a member of the Merchant's caste helped with that. He was the average height of a dwarf with finely combed brown hair, pale skin that was completely unscarred and eyes the colour of a soft grey mist. He was a little plump as well, he didn't look like a crime boss. He looked like a shopkeeper.

It's what made the heavy armour he wore look so out of place, combining that with the heavy war hammer that was slung over his back made him look almost absurd, laughable. But Faren had been there the last time someone had been stupid enough to laugh at Beraht. There hadn't been much left of the poor duster after he was done and what was left...well, it hadn't looked like much of anything.

Despite the armour and his hammer, Beraht didn't travel anywhere without his personal guards, four men, all casteless and all of them dressed in lighter armour than Beraht himself and armed with a long sword and a hatchet. Jarvia lead them and she was only one who was wearing armour that was close to the quality of Beraht's, a longbow was slung over her back and her black hair was tied up tight and her lips were pressed firmly into a sneer.

"Well, if it isn't my favourite little grunt." Beraht cried out in a voice of mocking joy, his soft grey eyes turning as hard as sleet as an instant. He marched through the hall and picked up half a loaf of bread from Rica's tray before his hand snapped out and grabbed her chest through her shirt. Faren took a step forward without thinking about it and as soon as he did, a longsword was pressed to his throat.

The man holding it stared at him for a moment through the eye holes of his helmet and to Faren they didn't look like unkind eyes, or even unsympathetic ones. All the same, he still held the sword so tight to his throat that it caused the skin of his neck to break and a thin trickle of blood to run down to his shirt. The guard shook his head and Faren let out the quietest sigh and stepped back and turned his face away, not trusting himself if he continued to watch.

It was over quickly at the very least, Rica bore it bravely as she did everything in her life and Beraht was soon sitting at their table and eating their bread and drinking their ale as though he had a right to it, like he owned it as he owned them. After few tense silent moments, Beraht spat out a mouthful of ale and soggy bread. "Stone! That is foul, honestly, is this the best that you can do for a guest and a dear friend."

"I'm...I am sorry Beraht." Rica spoke quietly, sounding as meek as a mouse with her head bowed. It was the best tactic when it came to Beraht, never to look at him when you were speaking and to always sound like you were terrified of him, which was easy as most people were terrified of him. Even Rica, who was never, ever meek in her entire life. "We can't get any good flour for bread, we have to make do with sawdust. And we don't have yeast for ale either."

Beraht snorted and put his tankard down on the table and gestured for Faren to come and sit across from him, Faren walked forward and tried to look completely unperturbed as he sat down in the chair. Beraht stared at him, his eyes seeming to be digging through him before he finally started to talk. "Honestly Faren, how unfair is that? The highborn up in the Diamond Quarter get to feast on suckling pig and roast bronto and fat nugs drowned in butter and seasoned with salt and pepper and you have to chew on sawdust bread and chock down the worst ale in the world. The injustice, it's terrible isn't it?"

It was but it wasn't like Beraht had anything to complain about, he wasn't casteless. He was a member of the merchant caste, he had never gone hungry or had to choke down anything. He might never had anything to feast on that the King or the lords of Orzammar did or wear any fine clothes made from the silk or cotton of the surface but he had never gone hungry and he had never had to chock anything down, his family might not be the highest in the merchants but he was hardly near the bottom either.

But if there was one thing he learned about Beraht, it was that he was greedy. He was greedy for power, for honour, for love. For prestige and status and to be risen amongst the ranks of the nobility, that was what he wanted more than anything and that was why he had Rica do what she did. She was a noble hunter, who would seduce a noble and then try and bear them a son.

If it was a boy, then Rica's status would move up and she would be able to move in to said Lord's estate and look after the child. And all of her family would be able to move in with her as well, if it worked then Beraht would claim that he was a distant uncle and move in with them as well and get the title and status that he always wanted.

Of course, it was not without it's risks. If the child was a girl, then Rica would have nothing at all to show for it except for a baby which meant that they would have another mouth to feed. Of course Beraht knew that as well, which was why he took no chances and Rica was only one of the girls he had turned into hunters, according to him Rica was his favourite but Faren didn't believe that. He didn't have any favourites. He had people that he used for whatever he wanted, and if you got him what he wanted then he would show his gratitude by not smashing your head like it was a water melon.

Of course, he said nothing of that and instead simply nodded and spoke quickly. "Yes, Beraht."

Beraht stared at him for a few long moments before he finally let out a tired sounding sigh. "Listen, you know that the two of you are my favourites but the only gets you so far. You can stay with me for as long as you want Faren, quite a few jobs would've gone sour without you there...but Rica, I've spent a lot of money on you. Powders to hide that brand without looking like your hiding it, some pretty dresses that you actually wear to a party at a lord's estate. I spent more money on you than I did on any of the others because I believed that you could deliver. But if I don't start to see some results pretty soon, then I'm afraid I am going to have to maybe spend some time with one of the others instead."

Rica swallowed dryly after a moment and was clearly trying her hardest not to fidget. "I know Beraht, and I am so sorry but I promise you I am working on it, I actually met someone and he seems really interested in me. And I promise you Beraht, once I have a son by him you won't need any of the other girls and you will be glad that you stuck with me, with us."

Silence filled the house once again and Beraht narrowed his eyes as he stared at Rica and at that moment, all Faren wanted to know was what was going through his head. "All right, you convinced me. I am going to give you...another month, no, two months, just because I like you so much, to get me some results. Don't make me regret it Rica."

Rica nodded and Beraht turned his attention back on to Faren. "I've got a job for you, but I have other things to take care of." Beraht stood up and gestured for his men to exit. "Leske is waiting for you outside, he'll tell you what needs to get done." And with those last words, Beraht left and slammed the door shut after him.

Rica let out a sigh of relief and practically collapsed into her chair and clutched tightly at the blanket that she had left on the chair from the night before. "I don't think I can breath. I do have someone that's interested, I swear I do but he's...I have to be careful! I'm trying my best and I think I could get him too...you know but even so, it's a half a chance."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me Rica." Faren said as he stood up and walked over to his sister, pulling her into a hug while he stroked her back. "I know you're doing the best that you can, and we have two more months before we have to worry. That's plenty of time, you do what you have to do and I'll do what I have to do and everything will be fine."

After a few more moments Rica sniffled and pulled away, rubbing at her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You're right." She took in a deep breath and then let it out and then brought her fingers up to her hair and ran them through it. "I should get dressed again and try and see if I can see him, I can never get started too early right? You should go and see what Beraht wants you to do."

Faren nodded and turned and made his way to the door and stepped out into the closed and boiling streets of Dust Town. Standing against the crumbling stones of the ruin of the house that was across from his was Leske, he had known the other man since they were both babes starving together and he was the closest thing that he had ever had to a brother.

His face was open and honest if not particularly pleasant to look at, his nose was bulbous and his mouth was crooked when he smiled and half of his teeth were broken. But he was always good for a laugh whenever he didn't make Faren feel like knocking a few more of his teeth out. Most had been lost to a few men who couldn't take a joke, but most of them were taken out by a barmaid who had gotten tired of him pinching her bottom after a while and so the last time she had done it, she had slammed a flagon of ale into his face.

No one had laughed harder that night than Leske himself and it was one of the few memories that Faren could count on to always make him smile. A rare thing when it came to his memories to say the least. Leske came strolling up to him, like he hadn't a care in the world. "Well there you are, took you bloody long enough. I swear to all the sodding ancestors that just standing around in this filth's bad for you. How's your sister? She mention me at all?"

Faren wasn't sure if he should smile or sough, he settled on a frown. "Yeah, she did actually. She said that if you mentioned her, even in passing, I was to knock the rest of your teeth out, cut off your head and feed it to the nugs. Oh, she also said to tell you that she said hello as well."

Leske laughed loudly, his shoulders shaking. "Always a charmer your sister, ah sweet Rica. I'll get her one of these days, if the ancestors have any fairness then she'll be me wife. Wouldn't you love that Faren, you lucky bastard? Me as your brother, waking up to my handsome face every single day?"

"Oh, I can't think of what I would enjoy more. Except getting my throat cut in the night or being shanked in the back or being stuck in a pit with a herd of rampaging Brontos or being encased in molten iron or being sent into the deep roads to die or to be made a eunuch or-" Leske punched him in the arm to stop him from going on, cause he could have and would have gone on, happily.

"All right you nug humping bastard, I get the bloody point. If you're done ripping me heart out of me chest, we do actually have some work to do." Leske turned on his feet and gestured for Faren to follow him. "Some dust headed idiot's been stealing from Beraht, or at least Beraht's fairly certain that he is. It's up to us to see if he actually is and if he is...to correct him."

Faren frowned heavily, anyone who tried to cheat Beraht or stab him in the back could only be dealt with in one way, the only way that he would tolerate. Poor fucker.

They strode through Dust Town easily enough but kept their head's low when they came into the commons, casteless weren't banned from the commons as they were from the Diamond Quarter or from the Proving Grounds but their presence was very heavily discouraged. Stories like the ones Rica had told him were not anything out of the ordinary.

Thankfully, they made it to Tapsters without much incident. As taverns went, Tapsters wasn't the worst and it allowed Casteless inside which was something at the very least. According to Beraht's information, the man who was cheating him was somewhere inside.

It didn't take them very long at all to find him, they just had to look for the man who looked like he was the closest to shitting his breeches. Faren only had to take one look at him to know that he did it. He let out another sigh, this was not going to be pleasant. At all.

Leske had seen him as well and made his way over to the table, positioning himself behind the man's chair so he could be ready if he tried to run for it while Faren slid into the chair on the other side of the table. The man's face, already pretty damn pale, went ever paler to the point of looking like sour milk when he saw him sitting down. "I don't want company."

"Not even for a friend of a friend? Beraht says hello." The man's eyes went wide and he had begun to stand up from his chair but before he could, Leske's hand came down and clamped on his shoulder. When the man turned to look at him, Leske simply shook his head, for once looking completely serious and not in any mood to laugh.

Faren picked up the cup that the man was drinking from and studied the dark liquid inside for a few moments before he lifted the cup up to his lips and took a sip from it, it was shite but it was Tapsters shite. He stopped drinking and held the cup in his hands, a finger tracing the rim for a moment. "Beraht's hurt, he always considered you to be one of his favourites. To know that you would steal from him, it's like a knife through his heart. Do you know what that feels like? I would be more than happy to show you."

A thin sheen of sweat had broken out on the other man's face and he was shaking, his hands quivering. He could almost hear his heart beating so fast, blood pumping faster and faster and faster. "Look, Beraht...He's been good to me, I know that. I really do know that, and I gave him most of the Lyrium I swear that I did. I just kept a single nugget or two. Coin hasn't been flowing in and my wife's been sick, I just needed a little more to keep us going. I was going to pay him back, I swear!"

Faren had to resist rolling his eyes, he would have done better to just keep denying it or even better, to frame someone else. He placed the mug back down on the table and pushed it over to him. As the merchant brought it up to his lips and chocked down the liquid to try and calm his nerves, Faren drew one of his daggers and the tavern grew so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. "So, you did steal from him? Beraht is going to be heartbroken."

The clattered of the mug hitting the ground was as loud as a war drum. The Merchant swallowed thickly and looked like he was about to cry, when he finally found the strength to spoke it was in a broken whisper, like his throat was filled with glass as he tried to hold back from sobbing. "Are...Are you going to kill me? Please don't, my wife she's...we've been trying for a babe, she lost the last one because she was sick but once she's better we're going to try again. Please, just please don't."

Faren stared at him for a few moments longer, staring at his eyes as he played with his knife before he let out a long, low sigh. "No, I am not going to kill you. Leave the nuggets, both of them on the table and I will tell Beraht that you slipped away from us, go to your wife."

The sob that escaped the merchant then was one of pure, sheer relief. "Thank you, oh ancestors be praised, thank you so much." He fumbled in his pockets for a few moments and produced two shinning blue lyrium ore nuggets and placed them both on the table. As soon as he done so, he was on his feet and running out of the tavern. As soon as he was gone, the tavern began to fill with noise again like nothing had ever happened.

As soon as he had pocketed the nuggets, Leske sat down on the other side of the table and stared at him with a frown that didn't seem to fit his face. "Are you insane? Beraht didn't just want what he was owed! He wanted whoever stole from him to be punished for it! And what do you do? You let him fucking go! Beraht is going to be pissed!"

"No he isn't and no he didn't. He will be dead before he is half way home to his sick little wife." Leske stared at him uncomprehendingly and Faren sighed heavily. "I slipped it in his wine before I handed it back to him, he was so terrified that he didn't even consider that I might have poisoned it. It's my own mixture, in a couple of moments he'll start to feel as though every step he's taking is tied down by boulders, his tongue will swell and his blood will be on fire and he will feel like his skin is too tight."

"And then, his heart will explode."

Faren pushed his chair back, stood up and stared down at Leske. "We could have cut his throat or stabbed him in the heart, but shouldn't traitors be dealt with more...Creatively?"

Leske stared at him for a few moments before he let out a low whistle, standing up from the table. "Damn man, you're cold hearted son of a bitch. Anyway, let's get those nuggets to Beraht."

Faren nodded and followed him out, trying very hard not to think at all about what a cold hearted son of a bitch he was.

End of Chapter Eight.


Well, I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter and I would just like to take a moment to thank everyone for being so patient as I know it's been a while since I had updated this story. That's just what happens when you have multiple big stories on the go, all of which you plan to complete at some point.

The next chapter, should be a continuation of this one as it stands and the one after that we will be sweeping back to Serda's POV. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as I said.

If you did like it, please leave a review and follow and favourite as well.

With much love,

DiscordantSymphony