Chapter One

Of Wine, Women, and Song

Rémonn took several steps inside and came to a halt, taking in the fragrances of various flowers amalgamated so well that he couldn't identify any single one. The brawny young man began to peer about the large tavern; twenty or so people all spread about, some standing together in clustered groups around one of the many small and ornate fireplaces, most sitting at various tables positioned meticulously along the length of the two side walls, the rest walking casually around from table to table, no doubt the waitresses as they were elves and older women clad in rather dull clothing compared to the vibrant satin and velvet garments worn by the more obvious patrons. Stained glass windows were evenly placed and embedded into the elegant stone walls slightly above every table, each one bearing unique patterns and colors. In the back of the room two rosewood doors stood at each corner and between them rested a rather ordinary looking bar, a few patrons gathered around all with dull silver chalices grasped in their hands. Not pleased with what he saw he looked down to his left at a stout dwarf; Kirvar, donned in thick brown leather, bald and rugged looking with a heavy black beard growing down to his chest, an empty sword sheath dangling from his belt, and a brand going across the length of his forehead pattered like that of a chain link. "Any sign of him?"

Kirvar took his turn studying the crowds and gave a quick shake of the head. "No," he spoke with a bassy voice,pointing a finger towards a table on the right side of the room occupied by a lone man. "I see Liam sitting over there, but no Gautier. Might be best if we wait outside."

Rémonn looked over towards the direction the dwarf had gestured and eyed the man sipping from a silvery goblet. "I thought I said no eating or drinking in this place. What is he doing?"

"Having a drink," The dwarf answered with a shrug of his shoulders. "Calm down, it's not like these people know who we are."

Rémonn ignored the dwarf as he continued to stare. Liam was a young man, short and scrawny, born a bastard to an Orlesian woman which made him useful here in Val Royeaux. They used what spare coin they had to clean him up, a bath and cut along with a fresh set of bright blue garments, that combined with the bit of Orlesian blood he had allowed him to blend in well, at least until one would begin talking with him. Once he uttered a word his thick accent and lack of any real education showed him for what he truly was, a two bit thief from the back alley's of Denerim.

"So what do we do? "

"We will wait here. If something does happen we'll have a good chance of catching a sign and getting out," Rémonn asserted as he signaled for Kirvar to follow him towards an empty table on their left, both taking a seat on elegant wooden chairs cushioned with a purple colored plush. He glanced around the room again, many of the patrons had now noticed them and began to take an interest in the two oddities. Sighing he leaned forward clasping his hands tightly and resting them on the square mahogany table so well polished he could see his own reflection clear as day. Rémonn stared at himself for a moment; his young face turning gaunt from hunger and stress was covered with a thick stubble, his normally smooth and straight brown hair that went down his neck sprayed out wildly. It had been a few weeks since he had a real meal or a decent bath and it made him stick out like a sore thumb amongst these Orlesian nobles. "They're staring at us," he said softly, not needing to look up to feel their eyes or hear the lashing of their tongues.

"Well, not like we fit in here," Kirvar muttered as he pulled out a deck of cards from a small leather pouch tied to his belt. "You look like you just broke out of a cell and dwarfs are not what you would call a common sight in Val Royeaux," He took another turn looking around at the various groups as he began cutting the deck of cards. "Let them talk. They're harmless unless you've got a reputation to lose. Lucky us, eh." The dwarf paused a moment as he turned towards Rémonn once more. "You want in?"

Rémonn shook his head as he continued to stare into his own eyes.

"Suit yourself," The dwarf sneered as he began dealing to himself. "You should get something to eat. You look terrible and smell even worse."

"Still not as bad as you." Rémonn replied snarkily as he finally broke away from his reflection and peered out the stained glass window nestled in the wall besides their table, the sun slowly beginning to set.

Kirvar laughed. "I'm a casteless dwarf who has turned in his stone sense or whatever the sod it is they say. I really don't care what people think of me. You however are a human, you should be trying to look half way decent."

"I am just living up to the Orlesian's standard of a Fereldan," Rémonn said as he returned the dwarfs hearty laugh. "The children live as dogs, the women as whores, and the men unsophisticated barbarians." His laugh died off and a sour expression came across his face. "Maker I hate this place. This tavern is fancier then the palace at Denerim."

"It's called class. Maybe your people should have picked up on it when they had you on your knees licking their boots for over half an age," Kirvar smirked as he picked up his cards and began dealing. "They try and give your countrymen nice things and how do you thank them? You threw it back in their face and spat at their feet because it is not what you wanted. And you call them spoiled and excessive."

"You have spent too much time in Orlais."

"I'm not going to argue that. So how about we wave down a wench and get a pint of ale. It has been weeks since I have had a pint of anything aside from bog water and rain puddles."

"No. I told you not to drink anything while we are here. I do not trust this place and I do not trust Gautier. We will take care of our business here, collect our coin and make back to Denerim and drink ourselves until we see the Maker himself is dancing in the streets."

"I rather see a dozen dwarven wenches dancing with nothing but their small clothes on," Kirvar replied has he started dealing to himself once again. "Whatever you prefer though, I'll not judge you." He looked up towards Liam who was still sitting there quietly sipping from his goblet. "That nug huger is still breathing, you cannot argue that and you know sodding well as soon as he uttered a word they wanted to kill him."

"Luckiest man I have ever seen," Rémonn muttered under his breath. "How that fool is still alive...," He shook his head. "No drinking."

"You need to calm yourself," Kirvar grumbled. "Far to cautious."

"I don't like this."

"Neither do I, but damn it look at yourself."

Rémonn ignored him and let the dwarf get back to his cards. He had been a bit overcautious the past few months, the stories he has heard about the Orlesian nobles and their backroom dealings sent shivers down his spine. He began to peer around the room again, the glances and glares much less frequent now. The spectacle of two dirty foreigners somehow crawling their way into this place of privilege was obviously losing it's charm so he took a turn studying them. Most of what he saw were older men sipping from their goblets and chalices accompanied by younger women, weather they were their mistresses, concubines, or just ordinary whores he couldn't tell. """No different than the Fereldan nobles",'' he thought to himself. His eyes bounced from group to group as he tried to figure their expressions and read their lips but it never led to any avail. Finally something caught his eye, a small group standing in the back of the room near one of the ornate fireplaces. All were fairly young, three women and a man sipping on wine, talking and laughing about Maker knows what. Something seemed different about them, their clothes of much finer quality than most of the others in the room and they just seemed, enchanting. Perhaps the children of the more powerful nobility. Two of the women met his gaze; one an elegant lady wearing a florid purple and white dress with a jeweled caul placed over her long, dark hair, with a look of complete disgust in her face and that made Rémonn smile. The other one appeared to be the youngest in the group; draped in a exquisite gold dress with lustrous red hair that seemed to glow as firelight shined against it. She gave him a bit of a tantalizing smile, or so he thought. But before he could discern anymore of her features she gracefully turned away and stepped out of view behind a stone pillar. Discreetly he began shifting in his chair hoping to catch another glimpse of her, all of his attempts proving unsuccessful.

Suddenly shouting broke out in what was complete gibberish to Rémonn. He looked up at an older woman dressed in fine and colorful garb going off on a tirade besides their table, shouting profusely in the Orlesian tongue. Initially he feared this woman was the either the mother or employer of the girl he had noticeably been eying and had become furious that some dirty foreigner was ogling her prize. Kirvar stood up though and began calming the woman down, replying to the agitated words in her tongue. The dwarf pulled a small folded parchment from his pouch and handed it off to the woman, her eyes widened with disbelief as she handed it back to him. Gracefully she bowed, spoke a few more words, and scampered off. "What was that about?" Rémonn asked curiously.

"She said that dirt like us are not allowed in her husbands tavern and to get out before she summoned the guard, I told her we were invited here and showed her Gautier's letter," Kirvar grinned amusingly. "She got real quiet after that," he sat back down and returned to his card game. "Then she asked if we wanted anything and I told her to leave us be."

Rémonn sighed as he looked back around, the events seemed to perk peoples interest in them once again. "So much for being discreet," he muttered, the dwarfs initial reply being a hearty laugh.

"Discreet? An ugly Fereldan who smells like dung traveling with a ruggedly good looking dwarf through the heart of Orlais was trying to be discreet. You are dumb as a nug sometimes, you know that?"

"I was not expecting to go completely unnoticed, but we don't need anything adding to our attention here."

"Well you got it, so live with it."

Rémonn shook his head and looked back over at the fireplace where he had seen the woman but she remained hidden behind the pillar, though the man in her company began to give him a rather nasty glare. Brother, husband, betrothed, simple friend he didn't know but he knew better then to try and tempt any fate. "Did you see the woman over there?" he asked softly.

Kirvar looked up at him curiously. "So let me see if I understand this. We cannot eat, we cannot drink, we cannot even get a decent room to sleep in because of your rampant fear, but we can think about what we would do to their women once we got their pretty little dresses off?" he started to chuckle. "Well at least you have your priorities in good order. So which one are we undressing now?" he watched as Rémonn began shaking his head. "Come on now, they might not be as luscious as dwarven women but they sure beat what you have in Fereldan," slowly he began to scan the room scan the room with a widening grin. "Sod it, I will take any of these over those stones we had back in Orzammar."

"I was not talking about it like that."

"Of course you were." Kirvar interrupted. "You saw her and wanted to take her up to one of the room upstairs and, whats a nice word so I don't upset you," He stroked his beard a moment, acting as if he was in some deep thought. "Aha, ravish. You want to take her upstairs, rip off her clothes and your clothes and then ravish her all night." The dwarf started to laugh but held it back as he saw an enraged look in Rémonn's eyes. "You know what your problem is, you are too haughty, like someone plunged a pike up your arse. Here is what I am going to do for you, once we collect our coin and return to Denerim I am going to rent The Pearl for a week, lock you in there and tell them to throw everything they have at you until you become a broken husk of a man."

"I thought that was your plan for Liam," Rémonn muttered.

"Bah, Gautier would have to give us his entire fortune to get enough coin for a woman to bed with Liam." Kirvar answered as he returned to his cards. "So was there something else about that woman other that what I said?"

"No," Rémonn replied softly.

"Thought so. I would look but I know your taste in women. Terrible." Kirvar stared at the cards in his hand and sighed. "So how much longer are we going to wait?"

"Until he shows I suppose. He has got to show eventually, or at the very least send a few well armed men."

"And me without a sodding blade," Kirvar said furiously.

"What do you think?" Rémonn asked as he began to rhythmically tap his fingers on the mahogany table.

"About what? Are we still discussing this woman of yours?"

"Is this a trap or not?" Rémonn replied harshly.

"I don't know," Kirvar looked back towards the front door and shook his head. "I don't think so, not here at least. The Orlesian nobles, they prefer to handle their business cleanly."

"I have heard differently."

"This isn't Antiva where everyone you see is looking to cut your throat and spit on your corpse. If they can make it go away by simply passing along a few sovereigns than that is exactly what they're going to do." Kirvar watched as that fearful look appeared in his friends eyes one again, his fingers tapping the table as he made occasional glances around the room. "We have dealt with Orlesians before. I'm not sure what you are so worked up about."

"I know. But it has always been on our terms, on our turf. We have always been the ones in command."

"Well, now you know how they felt."

"Better them then us," Rémonn grunted.

They both sat quietly for another hour or so, Kirvar continuing on with his cards and Rémonn gazing out the stained glass window watching as the blue tinted light trying to shine through slowly began to dim as the sun sank further below the buildings of Val Royeaux. A few of the waitresses began to make rounds around the room lighting additional candles that were fastened to the walls next to the windows as well as a few that dangled elegantly from the ceiling. A few of the old patrons had left with their escorts in arm but for everyone that left two more seemed to come in and take their place, each one directing a curious glare towards them as they passed by. The room was now bustling with much of the same he had seen before, older men accompanied by several younger women sharing drink and words as they smiled and laughed, no doubt with the hope of waking up in the morning with a few extra silvers or a child brewing in their bellies.

Rémonn exhaled a deep breath as his eyes once again settled on the back of a red haired woman wearing a gold dress. Her friends had left sometime ago, each giving him a somewhat menacing glare as they passed by much the same as every other Orlesian. She had now taken up the company of an old, rather worn looking man who seemed to be enjoying every moment of it. "'Poor guy wouldn't last the night with her,' he thought to himself as a smile cracked though his nervous guise. Admittedly though he felt a little disappointed, for some reason he was hoping she was something else, something more. But in the end she appeared to be the same as the other women here, hoping to birth a bastard from an old fool and gain a few sovereigns to make it simply go away. 'Pity'.

"Gentlemen." Suddenly came from behind them, breaking Rémonn's attentive gaze. He turned around and saw a young, fair-skinned man towering above them. His chiseled face clean and smooth aside from a thin mustache above his narrow lips. Oily, pitch black hair tied back in a thick ponytail, dark eyes that gave off an almost sinister radiance, and his face striped with purple and blue paint. His clothing a bright red and black satin doublet and breeches that matched. "Master Rémonn I presume?" he spoke with a soft, cool tone that was marked by a heavy accent.

"Gautier?" Rémonn asked quietly as he studied the man, searching to see if he branded any weapons but none appeared in any of the obvious places.

"Lord Gautier." The man replied sharply as he made his way slowly around them to the other side of the table. "We do respect the one title we are permitted to hold here in Orlais." He had a certain swagger in his step, almost as if he was setting his dominance, like a beast warning you that you've encroached on it's territory.

Rémonn bowed his head slightly as he began to search the room for any signs of sudden movement or added intrigue, none found. "My apologies, Lord Gautier," he muttered sarcastically. "You are however just a bit late from our arranged time."

"Nonsense. We Orlesians are never late nor are we ever early. We arrive precisely when we mean to," Gautier retorted with a smirk as he took a seat.

"That is wonderful to know lord. Perhaps you could have been kind enough to have shared that in your message so that we did not sit here like fools for several hours."

"Just get on with it," Kirvar muttered as he placed his cards in his small pouch.

Gautier smiled. "What is the rush? Come, let us drink a toast to good health and fortune." He turned around and made a signal to a woman who came rushing over. "I apologize we had to have our meeting in such shoddy accommodations. For this type of business though, discretion was necessary."

Rémonn gave Gautier a quizzical look as he spoke to a blond elven woman in his native tongue then watched her dash off back towards the bar. "Shoddy accommodations?"

"Yes." Gautier said with a nod. "This place, there is no music, no song, the walls are so plain and dreary, the food is terrible and the company is usually, less then desirable. It is such a monotonous place." He paused a moment as he looked back over his shoulders. "It serves it's purpose however, it gives the noblemen a place of privacy to come and seek love of a more, physical nature and it is bleak enough that their wives and ladies have no desire to join them," he said with a casual grin as he turned his attention back towards his company.

"Well how do you like that, their brothels are fancier then your palace Rémonn." Kirvar blurted.

Gautier turned towards the Dwarf. "Brothel? No, no. These women are not whores, they are the daughters of smiths and merchants who come hoping to expand their families prestige and fortune, so to speak." He paused as the elven woman returned and set plain silver chalices down in front of all three before bowing deeply and walking away. "So no, these woman are not whores. While their intentions may be similar they are under no obligations to serve anyone aside from themselves and their family," he smiled and raised his cup as if to toast before taking a sip of the sweet wine.

Rémonn looked down at the dark red wine, taking in it's aroma and swirling it a little to see if anything was slipped in it, peering to his left he saw Kirvar doing the same.

"Gentlemen please," Gautier said with a smile as he took another sip. "There is no reason to be scared. Business is business in Orlais. Indeed it is not uncommon for unsavory methods to be employed." He paused, again taking a sip and giving them a eery grin. "But we do not taint our wine, our women, or our songs. One should not have to fear life's greatest pleasures, no?"

Rémonn gave him an uneasy look and glanced over to Kirvar who had already begun gulping down the wine. He turned back and looked down at the thick red liquid, he was parched and it had been a long time since they had anything other then dirty water. Slowly he took a sip, his face puckering up as the taste blasted against his tongue. "That's terrible." He muttered.

"I agree," Gautier said with a smug look. "As I said, I apologize. Perhaps next time we will meet under better circumstances and can enjoy our business in a more appropriate place."

Rémonn nodded as he waited anxiously to see if any signs of poison came about, but nothing felt abnormal aside from the foul taste in his mouth. "So why are you late?"

"As I said, we are never late. If you would like to know why I have only now just arrived I had to visit several libraries and the Grand Cathedral. The Empress; Maker watch over her, she is adamant that her nobility be as educated as the brightest mages and most revered scholars. I do apologize however if I have kept you waiting longer then you had anticipated."

Rémonn stared at him a moment, his statement appearing to be sincere.

"And you came here alone? No guards?" Kirvar asked as he surveyed the room. "I thought you were a man of importance in Orlais?"

"Myself?" Gautier replied with a smile to the dwarf. "No, I am simply the third child of a land owning noble so my importance here in Orlais is minimal. As for guards, there is no need. This is Val Royeaux, blood has not touched the streets outside the docks and alienage in years. My friend if we are not safe here we are not safe anywhere." He watched them both carefully, watching Rémonn's eyes occasionally glance off to the side. "And how about you? Do you happen to have any others here, hidden perhaps, waiting?"

"No," Rémonn replied bluntly, his eyes shifting off to the side towards Liam.

"Is that so?" Gautier asked. "Well, than this should be easier then I thought."

Rémonn looked at him with an inquisitive stare then watched as Gautier suddenly began clapping his hands together. Both he and Kirvar jumped from their chairs, Liam following shortly after. All three began to franticly search the room, their hands hovering near their hidden daggers as they looked for signs of an incoming fight. But aside from many curious glances and Gautier's amused laugh nothing came about.

"Sodding bastard," Kirvar muttered though his gritted teeth as his eyes filled with rage. "What was that!"

Rémonn waited to see if Gautier replied but he did nothing aside from continuing on with his laughter. "Let it go," he muttered as he put his hand on the dwarfs shoulders. "He tricked us." Once Kirvar reluctantly took his seat Rémonn followed and signaled for Liam to do the same.

Gautier stopped his laugh and sighed as he turned around in his chair to examine the third man who had reacted. "What is it you fear?" he asked through a devilish grin as he turned back around to face Rémonn. "Do you fear chevaliers will pour into the room and run you through? Perhaps you fear assassins will fall upon you from the rafters above? What would I gain from such an action?" He paused a moment, his expression now stern as he watched the young man begin to stir uncomfortably. "Perhaps it is I who should be concerned as you are the one with men incognito," he leaned forward. "If I truly wanted you dead, it would already be so." Gautier winked and smiled as he leaned back, letting that thought linger at their table for a minute. "I do apologize, but you are a terrible liar and I was curious as to exactly how many you had hidden."

Rémonn watched as Gautier took another sip from his chalice. "You will have to understand our caution, Val Royeaux has not exactly been hospitable to us."

"I did extend the offer to conduct our business in the privacy of my estate, you however insisted it be in a neutral setting." Gautier set his chalice down gently as he leaned forward once more. "My family just wants this to go away, blood does not need to be shed from either of our ends," he made a quick glance back at Liam before once more locking onto Rémonn's eyes. "If you are ready we may begin. I assume you have an offer in mind?"

"Three hundred sovereigns is a fair price, do you not agree?" Rémonn responded calmly.

Gautier chuckled. "Must say I do not. Do you have the book with you?"

"How dumb do you think we are?" Kirvar blurted before chugging down the rest of his wine.

"You would be in a much better position to answer that question, no?" Gautier replied never breaking away from Rémonn's eyes.

"I fail to see why that matters. It is obvious you believe we are in possession of them otherwise you would not be sitting here across from me," Rémonn softly spoke as he broke away from Gautier's ominous stare. "As I said, three hundred sovereigns or we turn these papers over to the Orlesian government."

Gautier smiled as Rémonn's gaze turned away from his own. "I am afraid that cannot be done. Far too steep."

"Too steep?" Kirvar interjected. "Last time I checked treason was quite a serious crime here in Orlais. Your entire family would be swinging from the gallows within the week and your bodies left to feed the crows. How is the price to steep when your families being is at stake?"

"Treason?" Gautier said as he turned over to the dwarf. "I hardly consider a few business deals with foreigners to be treason. I suppose death would be a possible punishment but more likely than not we would be stuck with a hefty fine and a rather unpleasant tongue lashing."

"I am tempted to call that bluff." Kirvar muttered.

Gautier laughed as he began running his finger along the rim of his chalice. "Turn it over to the government and you may get a few silvers, then you would wait several years for our trial and then several more for judgment to finally pass. Orlesian justice can be incredibly swift or extremely tedious depending on the prestige of those being tried."

Kirvar shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe watching you stew is worth a thousand sovereigns to me."

Gautier laughed again. "Then you have a very poor judgment of value my tiny friend." He turned back towards Rémonn. "I suggest you leave your, companion, out of this business."

"He has a point." Rémonn replied. "Three hundred sovereigns and you can avoid all possible troubles."

"Do not underestimate my families influence," Gautier said sternly. "You may think you control the board but it is quite the opposite. I will give you one hundred. That would be plenty for you and your friends to buy a piece of land in Ferelden with a few peasants," he grinned as he lifted his chalice to take another sip. "Grow fat on the fruits of your success."

Rémonn saw Kirvar ready to speak up so he quickly positioned a hand in front of the dwarfs mouth. "I want to get very fat."

"I see. Sadly I cannot oblige you the three hundred, my father would hang me himself if I parted with that much."

"Just another reason to make the price stand." Kirvar smirked.

"You want your gold while my family wants this to go away," Gautier said ignoring the dwarfs comments. "There is nothing to gain for either of us to leave here without an agreement." He paused a moment as he began to study both of them; reading their eyes, their expressions. "I can part with two hundred."

Rémonn glanced over to Kirvar who simply shrugged. "Alright. two hundred sovereigns for your papers."

"Excellent!" Gautier shouted jubilantly. "This my friends is how all business should be done; quick, clean, and painless."

"So when do we get our coin?" Kirvar muttered.

"Obviously I do not carry two hundred sovereigns on my purse," Gautier lifted his chalice to his mouth and sighed.

"Well," Rémonn spoke up. "You go get the coin and we will fetch your prize."

Gautier chuckled after taking another sip of wine. "If I may be so bold as to offer a more sensible proposal." He waited for Rémonn to give him a signal to continue on. "Trust is obviously an issue for both of our parties. Tomorrow midday we meet at the Grand Cathedral and simply have our exchange there. I can assure you nothing will be attempted from my end in the house of the Chantry and anything attempted from your end would result in a rather gruesome demise. Once I have what I want there is no reason to pursue you any further, coin can be replaced far easier than reputation."

Rémonn glanced over at Kirvar who gave his approval with a simple nod. "Very well," he turned back to Gautier. "Midday tomorrow at the Grand Cathedral."

Gautier watched as both stood and began making their way towards the door." Gentlemen, please," he uttered with a smile. "There is no reason to leave, the evening is still young."

Rémonn paused and turned back around, Kirvar doing the same. "Our business here is done."

"Two hundred sovereigns, the least you can do is grant me the pleasure of your company for the evening," Gautier said as he raised his chalice in the air.

Rémonn eyed him curiously before looking over to Kirvar who shrugged his shoulders and returned to his seat. "You'll have to understand I am not looking to make friends."

"Who said anything about making friends. I am simply looking for a bit of company as I finish my wine."

Rémonn glanced towards Liam who was standing with a muddled look about him, waving for him to sit down then did the same himself.

"Come, a toast to success."

Rémonn raised his chalice and gently tapped it with Gautier's before taking another sip of his wine noting a vastly improved taste, though that just may be the fact that this time tomorrow he would have two hundred sovereigns in his pocket.

"If you do not mind my asking, how exactly did you come into possession of this information?" Gautier inquired. "It is obvious by your appearances that you have gone to great lengths to retrieve and hold onto it."

Rémonn contemplated a moment, debating with himself weather it would be in his best interest to answer or not. The last time he lied Gautier saw right through it and quickly embarrassed them as a consequence. "Perhaps you would care to share something me first." He didn't expect Gautier would comply, but perhaps something would slip in the process. "Why would your family hand out so much clear and damning evidence?"

"Fair enough," Gautier said. "It is simply business. Records and sealed agreements, orders for those handling the shipping and transportation, other various details necessary for the completion of the transactions. Honestly it was never a concern that this would fall into the wrong hands, it takes a sharp mind to put it all together as you have."

Rémonn sat astonished, more so to the fact he said something rather then what was actually said. Still curiosity began bubble inside of him. "So what did you sell, exactly?"

"Arms and armor, supplies, food and clothing, anything any of the various nations needed which was in my families power to supply ," Gautier replied coolly.

"But you also dealt with Ferelden during our wars, how did you manage to get all this equipment and supplies into our lands?" Kirvar spoke up curiously.

"We would hire out Antivan and Rivain ships, they displayed the Orlesian flag and my families banner allowing them to pass through our blockade and once past they exchanged flags to that of whatever nationality. When they arrived in Ferelden they passed as simple merchants, so they operated freely throughout your major ports. Other times merchants and guides would lead small caravans across remote passages in the southern reaches of the Frostback Mountains allowing them to bypass the massive lines on our borders.

"And all this time you've never been caught?" The dwarf once again inquiring.

Gautier glanced over to Kirvar and smiled. "Do you not consider this being caught? You have me at this table bartering for your silence on the matter."

Rémonn noted the Orlesians rather apathetic manner around the subject and his involvement. But the fact he was speaking about this so openly continue to have him on edge. ''Why?' He shook his head to try and clear away his worries. "But you sold to Ferelden while we were at war. You helped to feed our people and arm our soldiers. How do you not consider this treason?"

"War and treason?" Gautier turned his attention back towards Rémonn."For the past fifteen years we have done nothing but sit on our borders. Occasionally a minor scuffle would break out between our forces, even rarer would be a major battle. But we were never aggressive, no plan for a second invasion was ever conjured, we just sat there in defiance of the truth and realities that we had been bested. Our stubborn leaders far to arrogant and egotistical to ever admit defeat to your people, never willing to utter a word of peace so long as Maric's head remained attached to his body. So we continued on with this 'war' while the aristocracy began to bleed to death financially as we continued to finance this war with no gains even attempted to be made. Many of the aristocracy began seeking other methods of financing themselves, my family began trading off much of our excess to various nations. Eventually we saw an opportunity with your people and made a few agreements in secret with some of your nobility. Weapons and armor, food, medicine, clothing, and other bits and pieces in exchange for a hefty amount of gold. This helped Ferelden to keep itself armed and supplied and my family managed to recoup much of our coin spent on your cursed lands."

"And this is not treason to you or your people?" Rémonn asked.

"In my eyes the traitors are the ones who continued on with this jest despite pleas to put it to a halt, but time and treachery have dealt with most of them," Gautier took a sip of wine and softly exhaled. "But I do not know what people would see this as, perhaps nothing. Would it not be queer to execute a family who aided the nation you are now trying to regain friendship with? Perhaps honor in public and scold in private, or perhaps we would dangle from the gallows as your friend suggested, I do not know. I am a gambling man, but when the stakes are the lives and reputation of my family it is far to high of a risk to take hence why I am willing to deal with you and pay such a price. Coin can be recouped far easier than blood."

"So help me to understand this," Kirvar said. "Orlais had the ability to launch another invasion but instead you stood idle? Why would your people do such a thing?"

"I do not know, I am not privy to such information. The general consensus amongst the aristocracy is it was simple incompetence coupled with a bit of fear. We were crippled upon our expulsion from your lands that is not contested, but our militia and garrisons remained unscathed and could have quickly been mobilized to the lines and the sea for one more devastating push. Alas we held onto the motionless, our coin and resources wasted on a stalemate kept alive by stubborn foolery. But I do believe your people had us frightened, terrified that we may underestimate your leadership, cunning, and will once more and this time we would be the helpless nation left to mercy of Ferelden and the rest Thedas," Gautier sighed. "But this is such an unpleasant conversation, let us move on. Perhaps now that I have shared my side you shall share yours?"

Rémonn let a moment of silence linger between them as he dove back into this thoughts. "I would rather not," he muttered in a soft tone as he looked away. "I am sure you understand."

"Pity," Gautier replied sharply. "But yes, understandable."

Rémonn sighed, he wasn't sure why but he felt a bit of relief come about. The reality in his mind was Gautier already knew every dirty detail about how they came into possession of this information. "So why did you share that?"

"Why not," Gautier said with a shrug. "I have nothing to fear from you, the patrons here are more concerned with finding a 'companion' for the night than the idle business of a few men, even those as queer as yourselves. Even if one were to find out and confess the actions of my family most of Orlais would simply turn a blind eye without any evidence. I am not some simple peasant," he cracked a grin. "Confession is good for the soul, or so they say."

Rémonn simply nodded, he felt there was more to Gautier's smugness then self imposed fearlessness but it was good enough to put him at a bit more ease. Kirvar looked as if he felt differently though, his eyes fixated on Gautier as if he were trying to read his very thoughts, to break his will and force him to confess some unknown truth. Rémonn let the dwarf be and began peering around the tavern floor once more, hoping to catch a glimpse of gold and red once more. Standing near where he had his first glimpse there she stood with some young man he had yet to see, her back once again shown as if she was purposely teasing and tormenting him.

"You have an eye for our women?"

Rémonn looked towards Gautier who broke the silence with his heavy accent. "Pardon?"

Gautier grinned. "I see the look in your eye, it is a look I am rather familiar with after all." He paused a moment, admiring Rémonn's bewildered look. "Tell me, have you ever had an Orlesian woman before?"

"None that I'm aware of." Rémonn replied slowly, attempting to determine where Gautier was going with such a question.

"Oh if you did you would know. Orlesian woman are, how do you say, more passionate about their duties. Perhaps you would like to experience this first hand?"

"What do you mean?"

"I thought the meaning was obvious. It has been a successful evening, perhaps you would like to complete the night with a lovely young lady amidst your company."

"Sure, but..." Rémonn stopped to think a moment. "I am a little hesitant to take anyone from your graces."

"My graces? Nonsense. I know nothing of your tastes." Gautier glided his hand out across the the room. "Pick one. Both of you, simply pick one and she is yours for the night."

"I don't need help finding a woman," Kirvar grumbled.

Gautier laughed and smiled. "Of that I have no doubt. Something so small would certainly hold quite an exotic and alluring quality to many of the woman here."

Rémonn threw his hand on the dwarfs shoulder before he could finish his leap across the table. "Take Liam and head back to the inn," he whispered in Kirvar's ear.

Kirvar never took his eyes off of Gautier who sat there bearing a smug grin. The dwarf gritted his teeth and nodded in agreement. "Don't do anything foolish," he whispered back. "I don't trust this sodding bastard and I don't trust any sodding whore he gives you." Kirvar forced his shoulder away from Rémonn's grip and angrily began walking towards the door. "Liam! Let's go!" he shouted, the young man bouncing up on command. "Come on you nug huger, I don't have all day," he said bluntly as he shoved Liam towards the door.

Rémonn watched them both leave and once gone returned his attention back to Gautier who maintained his smug expression.

"As I said, feel free to pick any woman here. Consider it my way of sealing our deal."

"One of these? Did you not say they are nobility or something?"

Gautier chuckled. "My friend, you are in the company of Lord Gautier of House d'Allemagne. When it comes to the ladies here Val Royeaux is at your beckon call."

Rémonn looked back towards the woman with the red hair, staring as he debated in his mind weather or not to accept Gautier's odd offer.

Gautier noted the rather intent stare and turned in his chair, connecting Rémonn's gaze to a single individual. "You like the red hair one?" He asked as he turned back around to face Rémonn. "A good choice. They say the ones with red hair are more; fiery, sensual, lustful."

"I can't have her." Rémonn was trying to deny it to himself, the fear of some sort of trap lingered in the back of his mind. "She has to be nobility."

"Normally, no," Gautier smiled. "The way you look now you would not be able to take a simple dock wench. But as I said, you are in good graces." He turned back around and studied the woman a bit more. "Yes, I know this one," Gautier said as he turned back to Rémonn.

"You...know her?" Rémonn asked, not sure weather to take the notion as a good or bad omen.

"Indeed. She is a minstrel, has performed several times for my father during his gatherings and balls. Very beautiful, very talented," Gautier noted the twisted look in Rémonn's eyes and laughed. "No need to worry, my father has not bedded with her, nor have I. As far as I know she is as innocent as a young Chantry initiate. If that is a desire of yours of course," he let the words linger on for a minute. "Do you want her?"

Rémonn rubbed the back of his head as he thought, his eyes bouncing between Gautier and the woman. "I. I guess. I don't know."

"If you prefer to spend the night alone with your two friends, the short one and the ugly one, then I will not force this. I am simply extending my hospitality and thanks," Gautier watched as Rémonn finally nodded. "Excellent. Come."

Rémonn watched as Gautier flagged down a young elf, spoke a command in the Orlesian tongue and pointed towards the woman near the back. The elf ran off towards her and Rémonn began pondering his choice. Maybe Kirvar was right; maybe he was too cautious, too paranoid and fearful when it wasn't warranted. Gautier, while smug and obnoxious, hasn't given him any reason to distrust him. The Orlesian has been sincere in all of his actions, open with his words, and explicit with his desire to keep this as simple and clean as possible. Perhaps this was simply a gesture of good will, perhaps.

"Ah, how are you my dear," Gautier said smoothly as he opened his arms.

"I am fine Lord Gautier, thank you for asking." The woman replied with a soft, ethereal voice marked with light accent similar to that of the other Orlesians attempting to speak his tongue. "I saw you earlier and would have come to greet you but I saw you had, company of sorts, and felt it best to leave you be."

"Nonsense my dear, I will always have time for you."

"And a good evening to you. I apologize for not giving you a more proper greeting but I do not believe we have met." The woman spoke as she turned her attention to the young, unkempt man.

"Where are my manners," Gautier quickly jumped in. "This is Master Rémonn, a very good friend of mine," he said gesturing towards Rémonn. "And this here is Leliana."

Rémonn sensed the sweet aroma of lavender radiating from the young lady as he examined her closely for the first time. She was quite young, a soft and pale complexion, her features seemingly cut from fine stone. Her lips pout and emphasized by a light red paint, light, almost icy blue eyes that held a sort of seductive quality. That fiery red hair flowing down to her shoulders like strands of silk, her gold dress shaping to her comely body. "You speak my tongue?" he managed to ask dryly.

"Of course. Those of privilege are taught a great deal including the many languages of the lands," she replied.

"Come, have a seat." Gautier ordered as he placed his hand on her back and gently guided her to the seat across from Rémonn. "Now tell me what are you doing here? This place, it is below you."

Leliana smiled at him. "My mistress has said that we need to find new clientele so she asked me to come here and introduce myself to a few of the nobility."

"Nonsense," Gautier replied. "You know my father would keep you locked away for himself if you and your mistress allowed him. There is no reason to come and sell yourself here. I will speak to my father, perhaps he can grant you more opportunities."

Leliana bowed her head and then turned to the man across the table from her. "Rémonn? That is an unusual name to hear in Orlais, I assume you hail from Ferelden?"

"Now what could have given that away," Rémonn replied with a smile. "Yes, I hail from Ferelden. Gwaren to be exact."

"Well you must be someone of great importance, very few men have the prestige to hold Lord Gautier's company for an entire evening."

Rémonn met her eyes and smiled. "I wouldn't say that."

"No need to be so modest," Gautier interjected. "He served directly under a Bann before deciding to take on more personal ventures. Dare I say they are turning out quite profitable."

Rémonn stared down Gautier as he spoke, watching the imperturbable Orlesian raise his chalice in salutation. "Served being the word of note," he muttered softly.

"May I ask what it is you do now," Leliana inquired.

"Rather personal," Gautier answered for the Fereldan. "You will have to understand that my dear."

Rémonn was perplexed by Gautier's actions but the words seemed to satisfy the young woman's curiosity. Maybe he truly was sincere with his offer. "And how about you," he asked as his eyes shifted across the table. "May I ask where you hail from?"

"From a quaint little town here in Orlais, though my mother is from Ferelden as yourself."

"So you have some Fereldan blood in you?" Rémonn asked intrigued.

"Yes, one of her few demeaning qualities," Gautier uttered. "Though we have done well in washing it away and dare I say, she has become one of the jewels of Orlais."

"Maybe that blood is what makes her one of the 'jewels of Orlais'," Rémonn retorted, watching as Gautier slunk back in his chair. He glanced back over to Leliana who was shyly looking away, that tantalizing smile he had seen earlier lingering about. "So you are a minstrel?"

"Yes." Leliana replied joyfully. "I have been for many years now."

"And you enjoy it?"

"Certainly, I love song and dance but my passion is with the stories. Tales of heroes and adventures long past, lovers who come to pass with tragedy, stories of good battling against evil." She paused a moment and smiled. "Listen to me go on about myself, I apologize."

"No need," Rémonn said repaying her smile in kind. "As a child I loved to hear tales of old, stories to spark ones spirit in dire times. As I grew though there became less and less time for such things. Perhaps you could share a few stories sometime," he paused a moment noting how she seemed intrigued. "Many years you say. You look rather young so the Maker has blessed you greatly one way or another."

Leliana blushed. "Thank you," she said softly. "I have been practicing as far back as I can remember. My mother passed away when I was young and the lady she served took me in. She taught me song and dance, taught me to read and write. I preformed for her and her company many times." She went quiet, her face bearing a somber expression. "When the lady who took care of me passed away, I was found by my mistress who took me in and furthered my knowledge and talents and had given me the opportunity to perform on a regular basis. So I have traveled all over Orlais performing at various taverns and balls, sharing what I know and learning so much more."

"A sad story with a happy ending," Rémonn said raising his chalice in salute of her and then took a sip.

Gautier slowly stood up, took out his coin purse and set a silver down on the table. "It has been a pleasure speaking to you both. Regretfully however I must now take my leave. I do have other matters to attend to and it is no doubt getting rather late so I shall leave you two to get further acquainted," He turned and looked down at Leliana. "My dear, do take care and I will see if something can be arranged with my father." He then changed his direction to face Rémonn. "And I shall see you tomorrow Master Rémonn, it has been an honor discussing business with you once more." Gautier gave him a bow and a smile. "I wish you both a pleasant and pleasurable night together." Slowly he began to walk towards listening as Leliana and Rémonn continued on with their conversation. Stopping just short of the door he turned and looked back at the two. Leliana beaming and laughing, inveigling him more and more with every moment he spent in her company. 'Pleasant and pleasurable indeed.'