Lyrium Greed
Chapter 3: Tainted Oakbrire.
Located on the eastern part of the Free Marches's coast between Kirkwall and Ostwick, Oakbrire represented an important lawless enclave for all kinds of criminal activity. As a coastal city, its port housed and resupplied hundreds of ships per day, many of which were dedicated to plundering. Thus, the city was not a place for newcomers. If you were keen on keeping your purse through your entire visit, then the city needed to know of you. Reputation was a highly valued currency, sometimes even more than actual gold coins.
Everyone in Hawke's group was familiar to the city. Varric and Isabella had contacts -goons ready to give up information for coin- within the outer district, where the low-life peasants carried on with their survival. Aveline had heard about it, about lawless Oakbrire, but she had thought of it as delusions. She believed law enforcement could not be that incompetent. Hawke, on his part, had not known of its existence until he was assigned here a few months ago, when he worked as a mercenary. Elora had been a local for many years. As much as she traveled around Thedas for her contracts, she was comfortable in the Oakbrire hostile atmosphere. It kept her on her toes, ready for any encounter.
The Revenant docked by midday. Today, the port seemed bustling with merchant ships coming and going, goods being loaded or unloaded. The expedition's crew scattered as soon as the gangplank connected their ship with the ground, though they would need to return in a few hours to start repairs. Hawke had watched the arrival from the main deck. He breathed in Oakbrire's air, instantly regretting it. The atmosphere was heavy, heated, not at all what you would expect in a city with a beach. It was contaminated, corrupted.
"Cheer up, Hawke" Varric said, stopping by Hawke's side "We get some vacation before plunging into the depths of hell"
"I prefer to call it delay, Varric" he answered, looking at the small piece of paper in his hand. He did not dare to unfold it again, but its incriminating words were burned in his head since he had first read them the night before.
"Extract the target"
Target? What target? Questions gathered in his mind.
"That's a wild accusation you're throwing around" the mage answered to Bartrand.
"What's your take on this, Hawke?" Varric questioned. The mage spent some time thinking. He could see the logic behind Bartrand's claim. The hunter had stated she sought a relic, but was she? Still, there were many other variables to consider before any harsh action could be taken.
"Could be her, or not." he said "But we can't act solely based on a note."
"Of course. I knew you would take her side!" Bartrand objected.
"It's not about taking sides. It's about solving a problem. If we act recklessly, we might catch the wrong person."
"Or not!"
"Justice acts on facts, not chances. It is rational." Aveline intervened. "If it were someone you know in her place, would you give them the benefit of the doubt?" Bartrand became more restless, he moved around uttering profanities only he could understand.
"Where did you find this note, anyway?" Hawke asked Aveline, who provided a quick explanation.
"The captain vouches for Thomas. Says he's known the man since he was a kid" she added.
"People change, cap." Hawke said.
"I know it wasn't him. We are his only family." the captain insisted.
Hawke dropped the matter, deciding it was not worth arguing over, though he made a mental note to dig into it later.
"Captain, where did you put the prisoners?" Aveline queried.
"Cargo hold. We have two small holding cells."
"Good. Then let's get down there. They might be able to provide some answers"
"Ha! Allow me to highly doubt it. Our prisoners aren't exactly high-ranking officers."
"But we need to start somewhere."
The Revenant had two decks, and below them, the cargo hold. For obvious reasons, it was not a crowded place. Few people were even allowed in. The deck was not very big and its ceiling was lower than in the other decks. Apart from the rum barrels and wooden boxes of supplies, it only housed the two metal cells the captain had mentioned. The group focused their attention on the individuals inside as soon as they were within their sight. The eight prisoners were all on sitting on the floor and chained. Two of them raised their heads at the sound of footsteps but remained motionless otherwise.
The two guards posted beside it opened the cell and allowed Aveline inside.
"So, this is how it's going to work: You tell me who do you work for and we might consider a quick death for you. Maybe even sparing your life. Does that seem fair?
None of them answered, they did not even dare to look at the woman. One of them was shaking, but kept his head as low as he could. She sighed loudly.
"You don't need to keep up appearances. We know you're not pirates. We know you don't work for one. Do I need to repeat my question?" Silence was her answer once more.
"Do I need to repeat the question?!" she yelled as aggressively as she could, while shaking the metal bars of the cell to make more noise. Three prisoners jumped, surprised, two lowered their heads again after glancing at Aveline.
"Please, don't hurt us!" the third one whimpered, at the brink of tears. "We didn't want to do it!"
Aveline observed his features. Young man, could not have been more than an apprentice, eyes full of fear. The woman moved her hands behind her back. It was going to be much easier than she had first anticipated.
"I won't have to if you answer my questions."
"It was that Templar! He was bad luck!" confessed a fourth prisoner.
"Shut it! You can't know that for sure!" another prisoner spoke, looking at his comrade with narrowed eyes.
"Explain" Aveline said.
"Uhm…" he hesitated, exchanging glances with his fellow comrades "Our cap'n. He took a new quartermaster. Just before we left port." Aveline crossed her arms.
"What did he look like?"
"Fair skin, black hair, huge scars on his face. Tall and bulky." Aveline remembered the last corpse they had dumped into the sea. It may have been him who carried the note, she thought.
"Why do you think he was a Templar?" she asked the fourth prisoner.
"We had a mage in our crew. He kept watching her. The way he spoke of her. He liked to humiliate her in front of everyone."
"But he wasn't a Templar. Or he would have taken her back to the Circle." insisted the other prisoner.
"What happened after you left port?"
"Cap'n told us we were going to attack a ship. Someone said no. He killed him. No one else said no after that"
Even with all the information gathered so far Aveline could not envision the entire picture, but some pieces had connected.
"Thank you, gentlemen" she said as she left the cell and closed it.
"Wait, wait" Aveline stopped, but did not turn. "What's going to happen to us?"
"Not for me to decide."
The prisoner tried to plea, Aveline would not listen anymore. After all, she had no real authority aboard The Revenant.
The rest of the group had watched the entire scene from a secluded corner which light could not reach. The woman moved toward them.
"We have more questions now than we did before." the captain stated, voicing everyone's thoughts.
"Why Templars?"
"Well… I can only think of one reason they would want to attack us" Varric then looked at Hawke. He furrowed his brow
"I'm the target? Why now? They could have caught me back at Kirkwall whenever they wanted"
"Too many repercussions, maybe?"
"So what, were they going to cover it with a random pirate attack? They were not doing a good job at it."
Aveline considered carefully his words, running all sorts of hypothetical situations in her head.
"We certainly can't rule that option out"
"So what do we do now?" Aveline directed her question at the captain.
"We need repairs. We are sailing to Oakbrire as we speak, the nearest port. As for everything else, you better find out the whys and whos. Soon."
"How long are the repairs going to take?"
"A week. Three tops."
"Damn. Bartrand is not going to like the detour."
Hawke lifted his head from the folded note to glance at Varric.
"I still have not heard what you think of all this"
"Isn't it obvious? There's something really fishy here. But I don't think it's Vega's fault"
"Why not?"
"She's not that foolish." Hawke threw him a disbelieving look "Yeah, yeah, I've only known her for a few months. Still, she doesn't strike me as that kind of person."
"I truly hope you are right."
The mage set aside the note in one of his pockets, then checked his staff was still attached to his back before walking down the gangplank.
"So, where are you planning on staying, Hawke?"
"Nowhere near your snoring, that's for sure."
Varric chuckled. "Very funny. Seriously, now."
"What's wrong with staying here?"
"You really prefer a rudimentary hammock which you have to set up every night over a comfortable and warm bed?" the mage grunted in exasperation. He was right, even if he did not want to admit it. "Besides, I know my snoring isn't that bad… Is it?"
Oakbrire's Chantry was a decrepit tower located between the two districts of the city. Years had passed since its construction and not even the priests living inside took care of the wilderness growing around it. Vines covered its walls, making it difficult to know what material the tower had been built with. Its main door was still standing strong after all this time. The wooden carvings which used to decorate it had worn out and its shapes and lines were barely visible by now. The top of the tower had crumbled long ago, no one had bothered to clean the debris.
Elora opened the tall door, hinges complaining soundly. A deafening silence enveloped her as soon as she was inside. The main hall was everything the hunter could see and the humid atmosphere everything she could feel. There were some windows scattered across the walls, most broken, a few still in one piece, but all of them covered by the vines outside. Surprisingly enough, one priest was cutting down vegetation which had seeped inside the hall. At the far side of the hall there was an altar, delicately decorated and in prime condition. Between it and the hunter, dozens of benches allowed people to sit in prayer, or listen to the daily sermon. The hunter only saw two people populating the hall, apart from the gardener. Three if you counted the huge rat which traveled back and forth through a doorframe further ahead.
Elora walked through the left side of the hall, careful not to disturb the peaceful environment with the sound of her steps and watching the man who kneeled before the statue of Andraste. He had his hands clasped together in a silent prayer. The second person was a woman with Chantry robes who kept her eyes trained on that same sculpture. A Chantry sister? Elora was confused, however, she did not allow it to show in her features. The hunter took a seat close to the woman, yet not on the same bench.
"I hear you had an eventful journey" the sister whispered tilting her head backwards. Elora ignored her comment and began a silent prayer of her own
"I hope you understand. We had to be sure-" Elora scoffed, more loudly than she should have. She kept her head down and eyes closed.
"That I wasn't running?" she whispered, anger poisoning her words. "Right. I do not run away when I have a task to finish."
"Glad to see you know your place."
Elora raised her head only to look at the statue, without even sparing a glance at the sister.
"We will be in the Deep Roads in two weeks. Three when we reach the necessary depth. Then, I cannot predict how much time it will take to find the relic." explained the hunter.
"Then you better hurry. You were only granted a month."
"What?!... It's not-"
"Silence!" the woman spitted her words "We will hear no more. You were given time to complete your task and you failed. A month. That's it."
"It does not even give me enough time to go in and back!" Elora had raised his voice and even turned to the sister, who raised a hand to stop the complaints.
"It's not our concern" she growled, while her eyebrows wrinkled in a clear sign of anger "A month" she repeated "Or we will find someone else to do it. And you know what she thinks of loose ends."
The Chantry sister left the hunter, in silence, disappearing through a doorway to their right. Elora gulped down the lump in her throat and lowered her head. She'd better finish that prayer for her life.
Whoa, this is actually a new record. I'll say that I don't know why, but my excitement makes the editing not boring. Here's an update. Because this story reached 10 followers and I have 4 reviews. Soooo awesome!. I am incredibly happy that people is interested in this! I know I repeat that a lot, but it's not any less true. Whenever I've tried uploading stuff on the internet it never interested anyone before. And now it does! I'd say that's a huge improvement.
Anyway, thank you guys for being here! Enjoy this update, review if possible, and stay tuned for more Lyrium Greed!