This one ran away from me a bit... please read and review!

...

"And do you solemnly swear to serve the needs of the Carta above your own…?"

"I solemnly swear… you might have to ask Bartrand that more than once though."

"What?"

"… Well if he's saying 'yes' you might need to make sure he heard you right." The merchant's chortle was swiftly silenced by the woman's unimpressed expression. She knew how to put men in their place, it was a lesson he should have learned well by now.

"Will you take this seriously?" Her eyes swung to gesture to the snoring, drooling old man propped up in his regal looking chair behind her.

"Oh come on," Varric rolled his eyes dramatically, though he obediently kept his voice low. "It's not like the old fart can hear…"

"That 'old fart' is my grandfather and overseer of the Carta in Kirkwall." Bianca responded coolly, though the merchant noticed with some satisfaction a smile tug at the sides of her mouth. "Now pay attention, you're going to have to sign this in a minute."

Varric sighed, "Can't I just read it then…?"

"…Are you saying you don't like the sound of my voice, Newbie?"

Varric felt heat rush to his cheeks. Had he imagined her tone lower to an almost dulcet quality? Of course he had, don't be so ridiculous. "…No."

"Well shut up then, and do as you're told."

Face well and truly burning, the dwarf nodded in reply. "Fine."

"Good. Let's try that again… since you seem to be finding this so difficult… Do you solemnly swear to serve the needs of the Carta above your own…?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to live by our laws?"

"Yes."

"No matter how much they don't make business sense…?"

"…That's not on the parchment…"

"You calling me a liar?"

"I promise…" He grumbled with an aggravated sigh.

"Do you promise to always consider the needs of your brothers and sisters in the Carta?"

"… I take it that doesn't include Bartrand?"

"I can do this all day, Newbie…"

"Fine. Yes, yes… brothers and sisters of the Carta… got it…"

"Fantastic… only took twice as long as it needed to…" Bianca twisted the paper in her hands and slammed it on the nearby table. The sturdy wooden structure shuddered and the merchant stifled the snigger as the old man in the corner sprang to life and leaned forward, as if he had been eagerly watching the proceedings all along and had not, in fact, been sound asleep. "Sign here." The quill was shoved into his hand, as if to pull him from his amusement, though her serious and somewhat anxious frown was more than enough to do that.

"Bianca…?"

"Honour before blood, Newbie." Her voice was deliberate, and her expression one of reflection… almost one of concern.

"What? That's not on the..."

"It's on my list. Honour before blood."

"What does that even mean?"

"Just remember it. Now sign the damn contract and report in to Bellam, he's got a little job for you."

….

The grey bearded dwarf had to shield his eyes against the midday sun, as he made a show of studying the worthiness of Varric's last shot. It could be his eyes giving way to his years, or it could have been the low light of the sun bearing down on his vision, either way, he didn't need long to know that the results didn't make for pretty viewing.

"You're not very good at this are you?"

"It's windy." The young dwarf complained feebly, although he knew it was useless. There was no excuse for such a pitiful attempt.

"You can blame the air all you want, but I bet you I could make a better shot in a hurricane."

"Well I guess we'll never know."

"That's what you think. Anyway, guess I'd better teach you the basics for now."

"Pull the trigger?" Varric asked, voice dripping with as much sarcasm as he could muster. He knew the poor shot was a result of his own shortcomings, but he'd be damned if he was going to admit it to this old bastard.

"You idiot, what do you think affects your shot staying true…? and if you tell me the Maker being pissed off I'll…"

"Wind." The merchant responded dejectedly.

Varric's mentor chuckled, "Good, good. Not that you can use that shit excuse today but yes, that's the first thing a decent archer must look at before we take a shot."

"The first thing? How are you supposed to control the sodding wind?"

"You're not. You're meant to take better control of your shot, rather than shooting like a blind, deaf, blundering idiot. You think Bianca targets an enemy without taking everything into consideration? The terrain? The position of the targets? The nature of the enemy's attack? Where her comrades are? We must consider all these factors in different order, but they are factors all the same."

Varric chuckled drily, though it was a vain attempt to hide his curiosity and intrigue. "I usually find just pointing and shooting works."

The sage's withering look and gesture to the evidence of his recent poor effort was enough to make Varric's blood boil and his shame flare. "You weren't so confident in your…" he paused, searching for the word, "technique, when Bianca was in danger."

"I saved her, didn't I!?" The red-faced objection began, only to be abruptly cut off.

"You did. By throwing yourself in front of her and nearly getting yourself killed. Ask yourself, boy, why didn't you take the shot? It would have saved you both a world of trouble."

"I…" Thoughts pulsed through his head; it had all been so fast. He knew rationally that the wind had been too strong, crouched on that rocky peak. He knew that the shot had been difficult with all the movement in the battle, Bianca's swift movements not being the least of complications. Yet when he thought back, all he knew is that when he saw that red light and the robed figure, face contorted into a disgusting look of hate- eyes fixed on Bianca- he had just moved. There was nothing else. He had reacted and that was it. "I don't know… I just… didn't think."

"Well," Varric took a strange amount of comfort from the hand that rested on his shoulder "For what it's worth, I'm glad you did. Wind that high you'd probably have missed the shot anyway… and that girl is like a daughter to me. Guess what I'm saying, boy, is 'thank you'. You were a hero that day…"

"Heh, I thought you said it was idiotic?"

"Heroic… Idiotic… same thing. Leave that to the rest of them boy, heroes don't keep people they love for long. Now you're with us, you listen to me. We play it safe and keep them safe. It's up to us to be the brains, see? I can tell you've got some smarts in there… it's time to start using them."

"Right, I get it. 'Brothers and sisters of the Carta'…"

The dry and somewhat vehement snort from the old man made him jump, and he looked to Bellam curiously. "… 'Brothers and sisters of the Carta'… not heard that in a long time… nor seen much evidence of it. There's a war amongst us, boy, you've not seen the battle lines yet but they're there. There's a hurricane blowing this way, mark my words. That's why it's time to learn how to shoot true in a storm."

Varric felt a strange shudder come over him, and the breeze that he had imagined before seemed to cling to his skin. Bianca's words came back to him with a haunting eeriness and relevance: Honour before blood.

Was this what she had meant? He would have to betray Bartrand to fight in this war alongside her? But how would that even make sense?

"I don't understand, a war between who? The old man seems fairly comfortable."

"Aye, in his retirement chair. Let's just say there are 'differences in opinion' in how this operation should be run after he… goes. The Carta used to be a sworn dwarven brotherhood, yet there are those who would hire petty cut-throats to save themselves the coin. But that's what happens when tradition fades to the stone."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because you need to know. You think you got in to the inner circle with no expectations? You think that every waif that comes through the doors wanting to join the Carta even gets to see that old contract? Boy, you're here because you've been chosen. I don't know how your brother rode the same wave you made, but you're here and I'm going to make damned sure you're alive long enough save her arse again, in case I'm not. Bianca is one straight arrow, let's hope we don't lose her in this storm."

….

The bar was busy, though nothing like the Hanged Man. Most of the rickety chairs were occupied, but the dwarf had no problem locating his brother; sitting alone by the window and staring absently through it… straight at an imaginary horde of gold, if Varric was any judge. In an uncharacteristically generous move, there were two tankards of ale sitting on the table.

He sauntered over and eased himself into the chair beside Bartrand. He glanced absently out of the window, unimpressed with the vision of miserable looking buildings and rain spattered glass.

Varric's arms ached, though he hardly noticed over the throbbing in his eyes and the tautness of his shoulders. Even so, he was hardly dissatisfied with the day's events. He felt stronger, more sure of himself. Realistically, he knew it was ridiculous to imagine he might have improved so much in one day, but Bellam had opened his eyes to a new approach; a smarter way to operate, and that made him feel better no end. He actually felt quite smug as he accepted the tankard before him and smiled at the scowl on Bartrand's face.

"What are you so full of yourself for? Where were you when I needed you?"

"Target practise."

"… Target practise?" The flat tone and arched eyebrow told Varric that his older brother wasn't impressed. Shame.

"You heard right."

"Mind if I ask why you were wasting your day with such nonsense while I was breaking my back setting up our first deal?"

Varric took a sip from his tankard. Pure piss-water, as expected. The younger dwarf gazed longingly at his brother's mug, certain that whatever was in that one would be of far better quality. That would be characteristically generous, the younger dwarf mused to himself with some sarcasm.

He had been looking forward to another day spent with Bellam and his crossbow, but it seemed a pale hope now as his mind flooded with images of dragging Bartrand's gear up hills all day. No, not hills… mountains. While the lazy bastard made a huge show of reading a map and getting dressed in the morning.

"… I thought you wanted to join the Carta because other people did that for you?" He sighed.

Bartrand chuckled. It was a disturbing sound, which he had always likened to the beginnings of a landslide. It usually meant he was scheming something far more sinister than Varric could ever have dreamt up. Far from getting used to it, the years had taught him to expect the worst when he heard that laugh.

"Aye… but it takes a true blood hound to sniff out the best deal."

Varric rolled his eyes, trying to supress the chill that crept down his back. "Can't you even try to stay on the straight and narrow for five minutes?"

"There's a reason they need maps to find treasure, brother. You don't find hidden gold by walking the 'straight and narrow'."

"Right… forget I asked." He took a long drink from the tankard clutched in his hand before looking back to the older dwarf. "Well whatever it is, you might not take your vows seriously but I do, and I don't want any part in it."

"Vows?" Bartrand asked. The way his expression simply collapsed shocked Varric as much as it frightened him. "What vows?"

"What do you mean?" Varric replied, confused. "The contract…"

"Contract?!" Varric jumped as Bartrand's tankard crashed to the table. "That bitch…"

Varric's jaw flapped up and down. He didn't know what was going on, but his bad feeling had increased ten- fold. "Brother, I don't understand…"

"What was on that contract? What did you agree to?" The eruption seemed to have subsided, but now his brow was knitted and he chewed his thumb in thought… Varric knew calculating rage when he saw it.

His mouth suddenly very dry, Varric took a massive swig from his pint. Although he knew that it would do nothing to wet his throat, he used the opportunity to order his thoughts. He didn't know what to say… largely because he didn't know what had upset his brother so much; but he was fairly certain that being completely honest would only make matters worse.

"Just to follow orders when asked and pull my own weight… the usual…"

Bartrand didn't look convinced, though his darkened expression seemed to lift a shade or two. He grunted and returned to his drink. "That bitch thinks she can outsmart me… well let's see how she likes being played… Varric, you'll do as I say. She orders you to do something, you tell me before you do it; she tells you to follow her, you tell me where…"

"No offense," cut in a new voice abruptly, "but that sounds like stalker-ish behaviour to me… and you aren't someone I want that kind of attention from."

Varric felt relief and terror in equal measure. The two brothers twisted in their chairs as Bianca strode across the bar towards them. The tavern's patrons fell silent as she passed, then began to quietly resume their conversations in newly hushed tones as she stopped to stand, hands on hips, at the dwarfs' table.

Damn! She was quiet. Varric had no idea how long she'd been there, but it was a fairly safe assumption that she had witnessed his blunder before announcing herself.

"You bitch…" Bartrand wasted no time with his confrontation. He rose to his feet, though Varric noticed with some amusement that he did not close what little distance lay between them, nor did he raise his voice for fear of attracting attention. "We had a deal."

"We had a deal that I would put you both forward for the Carta's consideration, I never agreed to vouch for you."

"You vouched for my brother…"

"He's better looking," she replied, shooting Varric a wink that he knew full well was for Bartrand's benefit alone. "You know damn well who vouched for you, git-features. You knew before you even came to me with your 'deal'."

"What can I say… you should have chosen the smarter brother. I don't take risks… That's what being a merchant is all about."

Suddenly, Bianca leaned in close and grabbed Bartrand by the beard, yanking him forward so that his throat pressed against the blade of the knife she had produced from stone-knew where.

"You say 'merchant', I say 'coward'. But whatever you are, know that I have my eye on you. You may have gotten my sister to vouch for your place in our ranks, but it is me who decides who's in the inner circle, not her and not you."

Varric had seen Bianca irritated before, but this was the first time he'd witnessed her ire… and it was terrifying. Her stance was languid, save for the tautness in her arms, giving the distinct impression of someone who would kill you without a second thought… but just couldn't be bothered right now. Her face made a solemn expression, her lips thin and her eyes narrowed.

"I say it's time for a change in leadership." Bartrand forced out through gritted teeth, though so quietly that Varric wondered if anyone else was meant to hear it. Either way, Bianca did. She dumped him unceremoniously in his chair, and leaned forward so that she towered over him.

Satisfied that they weren't to be today's punching bag, several patrons had edged themselves closer to get a clearer view of the 'action', though judging by the way his brother was looking like he was about to piss his pants, he doubted that they'd see much… unless Bianca was feeling particularly brutal.

"Then it's a good thing for me that no one gives a shit what you say, isn't it?" Bianca stared at him, her eyes a mixture of cold fury and burning wrath. Varric was glad he had remained seated; he could only imagine the fear of someone on the wrong end of that glare. "Now piss off back to my sister, I have business with my newest recruit."

She stepped to one side to allow him to make his escape, but Bartrand couldn't seem to resist one last attempt at bravado.

"You'll regret this…" he sneered at her as he stood up. "One day, I'll make you sorry."

Bianca's hand shot out, seized Bartrand's shoulder and dragged him from the table, almost shoving him towards the door with one movement. He lost his footing and crashed to the floor, punctuated by several sniggers from observers.

She stared down at him, and Bartrand returned her gaze with an expression of contempt.

However, to Varric's absolute amazement and everyone else's amusement, she smirked and shook her head. "Then I shall tremble with fear until you come and put me out of my misery. Now sod off."

Varric was aware of heavy, retreating footsteps as Bianca crashed into the chair beside him, gestured to the bar keep who replied with a nod and turned to face her companion smilingly… almost as if nothing had happened.

"Did you not read the bit on the contract where you're not meant to tell anyone you've seen it…?"

"… What?" His already pounding heart seemed to stop still in his chest.

Varric couldn't hide the scowl when she creased up laughing. "Oh come on, Newbie, don't be mad." She clapped him on the back affectionately, "You've got to have some fun."

"… Do you keep 'being shit scary' on tap or something…?" The young dwarf enquired, bemused by the woman's bizarre behaviour.

She smiled at the barkeep as he placed the mug of ale in front of her. "On the house, Bianca." He told her, taking his leave. She nodded her thanks.

"Something like that…" She replied, taking a sip. "I don't want anyone to fear me… unless they are looking for me to fear them."

"Fair enough. So what was this deal with Bartrand?"

She snorted, "Your brother blackmailed me into putting you both up for consideration."

"That doesn't surprise me at all… but what the hell would he have on you?"

She cast him a sideward stare, one which he was sure was meant to be meaningful but he didn't have the slightest clue as to why. Eventually she gave up and rolled her eyes, "Don't worry about it. Your brother keeps his nose so close to the ground he's bound to get some dirt when he's looking."

"So you didn't want me in either?"

"…Next question, Newbie."

Varric stalled for a moment, he liked the Bianca he was currently with, he had no desire to see her revert back to terrifying mode… and if he pushed this he knew he was risking it. "Come on, if I'm only here because of Bartrand what was with all that 'blood before honour' stuff?"

"I called you 'handsome' before, you know. You only get one compliment a day so stop pushing for more. There's a reason your nug-humper of a brother is upset about you taking the vow… he didn't get invited. Now…"

A thought occurred to him, and he interrupted her. "Bellam said something about a war, is there something going on…?"

She rolled her eyes and her smile thinned a little. "Inquisitive, aren't we? I take it the old coot didn't go into it much?"

"He said something about 'tradition fading'…" He struggled to find his words for a moment, trying to work out exactly how to phrase what he had understood from his earlier conversation; fortunately Bianca took pity on him and put him out of his misery.

"When dwarves first came to the surface, they moved in groups of people they knew and people they trusted. Eventually, with our numbers swelling on the surface and especially in cities it became infeasible to know and trust everyone you worked with. So the Carta came up with a code of rules to live by… the rules that you agreed to when you signed that contract. To join our ranks, you must be nominated by a chief member of the Carta for consideration, but unless a chief member vouches for you the contract is never presented. We may have originally started out as casteless dwarves from Dust Town, and that reputation may have stuck with us, but when we first came to the surface we were determined to do things right by the stone."

"So that makes Bartrand basically a mercenary in contact with the Carta?"

"Exactly. That's the way it's always been. Only more and more people come forward, wanting to be nominated… trouble is they're not always of a trust-worthy nature even by our standards, if you catch my drift. They want in, and they want the quick way to make as much money as possible. Trouble is, once you sign that contract you agree to follow our rules and our rules aren't so much about making money… but maintaining our honour and doing right by one another. We've had a few bastards run off doing their own thing bearing the Carta's name… they made their money, but our reputation suffered for it… and as you can imagine that only attracts the lowlifes willing to skin a child for a copper."

"Right, so I get that… that's the tradition fading, but if you don't let them in they can't do anything about it, right?"

Bianca's clicked her tongue, seemingly annoyed for the first time since Bartrand's less than gracious exit. "Cue my baby sister. She's under the bizarre impression that we should accept the low-lives, and our new status among them despite all our work to change that… all our ancestors work. She's after running the operation, and if she had a brain in that head of hers I might let her. I think she's taking cash in exchange for putting people forward for nomination, kept bringing me all manner of cut-throats. Eventually I caught wise and ended it… as you can imagine neither her nor her 'clientele' were particularly happy with me."

Varric shook his head. It seemed so complicated, yet so simple at the same time… "But if you're in charge, what else can she do? Sulk in a corner that you didn't let her buddies play?"

"She's got a lot of back-up."

"You've got the inner circle."

"Somehow I think a hoard of axe-wielding beserkers are likely to overcome a group of old men clinging desperately to their traditional ideals. But we shall see when the time comes… now, curiosity sated? Good. I've got a little job for you…"

…

Fenris looked skeptical, his eyebrow arched and his lips pursed.

"What?!" Varric couldn't help but ask.

"The dwarven Carta once had honour… I'm more inclined to believe that Bianca was a nug in the first place…"

"Hey, those in Dust Town had it rough… cast aside for being…. Well… 'casteless', you can't judge people for wanting to change their fate. In fact you of all people should understand…"

Fenris gave a weary sigh, a combination of the weight of drink and the weight of the tale draining his energy. "Fair enough… but I've never heard of the Carta being known for their honour… only for being heartless…"

"They were trying to get away from that, that's why they came to the surface… until…"

"I take it their efforts were in vain?"

"… call for some whiskey, Elf. This is where it starts getting heavy."