Standard Disclaimer: Bioware owns all Dragon Age characters and in game content. I own the bits that are left.
Chapter 17 – Bloodshed and Tears
9:20 Dragon Age, Antiva City, Antiva – Neria (10), Zevran (now 17)
That hurts you know! Neria was frowning and pouting petulantly as she flashed her small notebook in front of Zevran's face.
"Ah, piccola cara. You requested that I teach you using the best method I know and confirmed this many times before I started. I did warn you it would hurt, yes?" Zevran grinned unrepentantly. "This is the normal area where it is positioned. You wouldn't have the same satisfaction if I placed it elsewhere, say behind? Or do you prefer a more frontal approach?"
Neria glared at him. She had a good mind to paralyse him and just walk away but she could not risk blowing her cover so close to Antiva City. She heaved a silent sigh and steeled herself for the likelihood of pain.
Sauntering ahead, acting the part of an oblivious pedestrian, Zevran could barely stifle his laughter when Neria brushed against him again in another blatant attempt to remove his money bag from the side of his belt where it had been tied. A quick flick of his wrist and Neria was once again scowling angrily, shaking her hands furiously as if the quick motion would reduce the pain inflicted by the thin branch Zevran had picked just for this purpose.
Neria was dismally pathetic at pickpocketing. All things that involved specific methods, precise movements and practise, she excelled in. Executing unstructured moves was never her strong suit.
Zevran had demonstrated the skill to her many times on the hapless travellers they encountered now that they were nearer to the city. However, despite her intent study of his actions, when it came to her turn to perform it on him, she was always too slow. The branch was an added incentive for her to move faster. He was not sure about Fereldan punishment for pickpockets but getting caught in Antiva as a pickpocket meant the removal of one's hands. It was better for her to suffer his not so light punishments than that more gruesome penalty.
"You need to be more subtle with your approach and quicker with your hands." Zevran reprimanded mock seriously. He did not really expect Neria to be able to pick up the skill within a day. However, he would drill her in all he could remember from those long ago lessons he had learnt. It was a fair trade for the recipe of that sinfully delicious stew that Neria had written down for him.
"You need to think quicker on your feet. Create a diversion or distraction so that the target is preoccupied." Zevran nonchalantly continued. "That is the easier way to do it. Of course, if you could hide in plain sight like me, it would be the best." Shaking his head at the pleading look on Neria's face, Zevran ruefully laughed. "True stealth is not a skill I can teach you in…" Glancing at the not so distant steeples of buildings that attested to their proximity to Antiva City, Zevran looked back at Neria. "…a few hours at the most."
Neria noted his gaze and slowed her steps down even further. On one hand, she wanted to prolong her time with Zevran. He had so many interesting skills that she could learn. If she ever lost her magic, it would mean that she would be helpless if she had no other skills in her repertoire.
She fervently wished she could stay on longer in Antiva to learn the skills that Zevran seemed so willing to impart to her. However, she knew that her time with him was an illusion. An illusion bought with Ines' money. She felt bad about it and had picked as much herbs as she could during the trip. Turning these into potions or poisons should not be difficult and she could sell them to repay Ines. She had her own stash now, selling her potions and poisons to the Quartermaster at the Circle, but she needed more to both repay Ines, purchase souvenirs and find replacement daggers.
She loved her daggers. They felt like an extension of her hands in the few short days that she had trained with them and she did not wish to relinquish them due to foolish Chantry rules. She would have to find similar weapons here to turn over to Greagoir once they reach the Circle Tower.
Thinking off the top of her head, she sprinted in front of Zevran, spun around and recklessly barrelled straight for him. The suddenness of her action took Zevran by surprise and he instinctively dodged to prevent Neria from bruising his more sensitive parts.
Triumphantly jingling the small black pouch that held the last of their coins, Neria flashed Zevran a brilliant smile while he helplessly chuckled at her audacity.
Ines was very pleased to see Neria. There were only so many ways to evade questions on where the little apprentice was in these ten days without rousing suspicions.
"Did he suspect?" Ines questioned urgently. Crows were well known for their discretion when it was bought but Ines had not paid extra for this, trusting in Neria's discretion, but the talk with Greagoir had her second guessing herself.
"No," Neria laughed merrily. "He thinks me a rogue with a strange fascination for herbs."
Ines shot Neria a questioning look. "He didn't do anything… Did he…" Ines struggled to phrase the pertinent question properly.
"He was the perfect gentleman, too perfect if I do say so myself." Neria chuckled at dubious look on Ines' face. "Nothing happened, Ines, even if I did kiss him."
"Neria! What did I tell you about not being a cock tease? One day you will meet someone who would not take no for an answer." Ines scolded while labouring to stifle her laughter. "Poor boy… He was what? Eighteen?"
"Seventeen. I am not a cock tease. I'm just ten. There is no way I could be a cock tease at my age. I'm not even a woman yet, nothing for a man to lust after." Neria guilelessly stated while fluttering her eyelashes at Ines and gesturing at her still childish form.
"You don't fool me, you little vamp. You enjoy that power you have over men. Right now it's still harmless. Maker help them when you do grow up enough to use all the wiles available to a grown woman and become perceptive to their reactions." Turning to a row of potions she had lined up on the worktable, Ines did not see Neria's stunned look then furtive smile. She breathed a sigh of relief that the little girl was finally safe and sound back at the Antivan Circle. After her confrontation with Greagoir, Ines had been on tenterhooks about the little apprentice's safety. "Well, since we were supposed to be working on a cure for your lack of voice. I suggest we start straightaway."
"I can already speak." Neria scoffed, peering curiously at the labels on each flask in spite of her words.
"I seriously doubt that you would wish to sound like a skilled Antivan courtesan with the body of a child." Ines remarked drily. Neria raised an eyebrow at that, wondering if she dared to ask Ines how she would know what a skilled Antivan courtesan would sound like. I think that should be saved for a later time.
"I made several options for you. Pick one that you like and drink it thrice a day for maybe two years, twice for another two and once for another two. Stop when you think you can safely speak like you do now without any repercussions."
"Seriously? What would I sound like drinking these? What do they do?" Neria stared sceptically at the contents of a flask she casually picked up, lightly shaking it.
"Hopefully, a child. Theoretically, they soften your vocal cords so that they vibrate faster each time you speak resulting in a higher pitch. It's not permanent though and hence the need to take regular doses." Motioning for Neria to start, Ines pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil to note down the effects of each flask.
After taking that long anticipated hot bath once he had deposited Neria back with the lady mage in the Antivan Circle, Zevran immediately paid a visit to one of the brothels known to cater to men and women with appetites for much younger bed partners. Detailing his needs to the proprietress who looked more matron than seductress, Zevran was ushered into a small, utilitarian room which featured only a large four poster bed.
He made himself comfortable on the bed, all the while wondering what the Void he was doing here. Never in all his years of depravity had he ever considered such an act. However, after the responses that little Neria had stirred in him, Zevran had to confirm for himself if the effect was only due to Neria or he had unexplored tastes he had not discovered within him.
The door opened and a young elven girl entered the room. Her long black hair and hazel eyes met his requests but Zevran felt there was something missing in her smile. He stared into her eyes and realised that her wide, welcoming smile did not reach her dead, brown eyes. This was not someone who enjoyed her trade. As she crossed that short distance between them, Zevran gave a snort of utter disgust and left. He did not want this girl. He did not want just any black haired, bright hazel eyed young elven girl, willing or otherwise. He wanted Neria and no one else.
Storming back into the little room he shared with Taliesen within the tannery district, he brusquely woke the human up before proceeding to live up to his reputation in Seduction among the Crows. That night Zevran took Taliesen in as many creative ways as possible, including some ways that if one was not flexible, not at all plausible. Exhausted, Taliesen had sunk into a deeply sated sleep beside him. Zevran was not so lucky. No matter how physically tired he was, his traitorous mind would not turn from his memories a certain young elven girl. The most damning of this was he was not even focused on their kiss, incredible though it was, or her body but her eyes and her smile. Disgusted, he spent the night berating himself for such foolishness and useless sentiment. It was unlikely that they would meet again.
Zevran kept his perpetual mask of lascivious bemusement firmly on even though pandemonium had already erupted in his mind. Master Frediano had just informed him that he had accepted the contract for the demise of Alfonso, the First Enchanter of the Antivan Circle of Magi and his entire cell of Crows.
Everyone in the House of Crows knows that First Enchanter Alfonso was no mere mage. He was a Crow Master first, mage second. His ascension as the First Enchanter of the Antivan Circle had been bloodily forged by his cell of Crows and he has continued his reign of terror for the past fifteen years, mercilessly slaughtering any who dared challenge him or seemed overly ambitious. The Antivan Chantry and Templar Order all feigned ignorance of his methods. Looking further into the "accidents" that occurred within the Antivan Circle ensured that the investigator also met with one.
The man may look like a peacock but he was shrewd as a fox, cruel as the deadliest sand storms in the wastes of Antivan deserts and highly paranoid about his personal safety. The man never travelled anywhere without at least four of his highly trained personal guards. All his food was taste tested before consumption as he had no proficiency in poisons.
Zevran was generally an optimist but this was ridiculous odds. Master Frediano's cell totalled a mere seven excluding the master himself while First Enchanter Alfonso had a personal army of fifty or more which included blood mages.
Besides this, there was still the College of Magi currently assembled at the Antivan Circle. Zevran could not imagine that the other First Enchanters and Knight-Commanders would take too kindly to Crows dropping in to murder their host.
He stifled a long suffering sigh. He supposed that he only had himself to blame for this. After Zevran became a Crow, the failure rates of contracts taken by Master Frediano's cell decreased to the point of non-existent. Due to the size of Master Frediano's cell, no one within the cell had to bid for contracts. Any contract accepted was executed by the entire cell.
It never failed to surprise Zevran and his other teammates that someone so young would excel in battle strategy and deployment. However, he was and after that first fracas when a member of his cell, just a little older than Zevran, had challenged his authority and met with a fatal end under Zevran's daggers, everyone just took to listening to him. Well, that and the fact that Taliesen made it known he was Master Frediano's lover.
Lover was a gross overstatement. Zevran considered himself more Master Frediano's whore. There was no tenderness in their interactions, only pain, pleasure and release. It was a necessary chore to keep the lecherous man happy enough to assign leadership to Zevran for plum assignments.
Zevran never touched those with poor pay or poorer chances. He loved the little luxuries that his scarce remuneration afforded him. In addition, a failed mission equated a dead Crow. He much preferred life but there was no way to refuse this contract once it had been accepted. It would mean either ultimate glory for or utter destruction of Master Frediano's entire cell.
"Well, you know what to do. Get to it and make it happen." Master Frediano dismissed him with an impatient wave.
Zevran was hiding in the shadows, taking his turn to observe the comings and goings of the Antivan Circle. It was barely three in the morning and only a few templars were patrolling the grounds. A small figure detached itself from the shadows once their backs were turned. Intrigued, Zevran moved to follow the clandestine form as it slipped away from the main building, skirting the wall but always keeping to the darkness afforded by the trees and various other structures scattered around the premises. His eyes widened when the shape walked right through a section of the wall. Touching it with curious fingertips, Zevran gasped silently when his hand failed to contact solid brick but passed straight through.
Mind racing over the implications of this, Zevran trailed behind the silent individual marvelling at his ability to use the darkness. It was not true stealth, just very clever uses of the dimness and light steps to evade detection, but effective nonetheless.
The person started running once he was far enough away from the vicinity of the Antivan Circle. Zevran trotted to keep up and managed to track him to a nearby park. The moon finally came out from behind the clouds and Zevran huffed in exasperation when he recognised the multi-hued beribboned head.
Does she never sleep?
Neria stopped in the area she had discovered four afternoons ago while out with the templar she managed to charm into escorting her to the nearest park and, later, the marketplace. After her excursion through the jungles of Antiva with Zevran, the stone walls of the Antivan Circle had begun to feel strangely oppressive and she did not wish to remain indoors. Thus it was that she would wonder around Antiva City in the afternoons with the nearly retired templar. She also needed to find a pair of daggers that at least looked similar to the pair Teyrn and Teyrna Cousland had given her.
She unsheathed her daggers, proud when they now slid free without a sound, though she was still far from Zevran's proficiency, and started with the slow movements Zevran had taught her. She added a few more that she had picked up just that afternoon, watching an Antivan street dancer in the marketplace. It had looked beautifully graceful and exotic when performed by the dark skinned beauty and Neria hoped she managed to capture it within her own movements.
Smiling happily, she hopped, spun, slashed, twirled and leapt in the air feeling a deep sense of peace descend upon her. When she had first requested for Zevran to teach her to use her daggers, she had never imagined the physical exertion could aid so much in focusing her thoughts and feelings. Through executing the prescribed movements, her sense of equilibrium was centred and she no longer felt at sea from the revelations learnt from her excursion.
Neria had always thought that the people in the Circle Tower were all friendly and kind. No one was ever truly cross with her no matter the pranks she pulled or scrapes she got into. Everyone was quick to coddle her because she had been the baby of the Circle. Many had watched her grow from baby to toddler to the little girl she now was. She thought that was the reason she had always managed to get out of trouble no matter the situation. Now she wondered if the curse had something to do with it. Was everyone in her life enthralled? Did no one truly care? These thoughts were wiped away as she poured her heart and soul into the effort needed to remember all the necessary steps and stances.
Zevran watched the little girl fluidly execute each movement with a subtle grace that brought magnificence to the deadly dance he had only started to teach her two weeks ago. He noted with the satisfaction of a proud teacher that she had managed to get the actions nigh perfect as if she was a talented Crow recruit he had personally trained.
Her movements started to change after a turn that marked the last of all Zevran had imparted to her. Arching her back, she threw her arms back and one leg rose so that her body was almost parallel to the floor. Waving her arms sinuously, she bent further backwards, leg rising for counterbalance. When her head nearly touched the floor, the one leg she still had on the ground sprung and kicked up. Her body twisted and her other foot landed firmly on the ground whilst its counterpart took its place in the air.
Dipping her head upwards as if she was rising out of a deep pool, Neria rose up on her tiptoes, leapt, spun in the air and threw out her arms exuberantly. The look of pure joy on her face called to a part of Zevran that he had thought was long dead and buried. He ruthlessly suppressed and resisted the urge to make his presence known.
It was already unbearable that he had strangely realistic dreams of the young girl every night when he did manage to fall asleep since he had left her. The worse of it was that they were not even lurid dreams but ones where they would talk like old friends and Neria would pester him to teach her the various Crow skills he had mentioned offhandedly to her during their excursion. The enthusiasm in her smiles and the happiness he felt afterwards for pleasing her were unnatural and unnerving.
Zevran felt a sudden explosion of temper flare inside him. The little dolt was frolicking in a deserted park in the middle of the night within a city filled with thieves, spies and assassins. He felt like throttling her in vexation. He convinced himself that was the reason he was approaching her, silently creeping towards her.
Neria had felt eyes on her for quite some time now. This was a sixth sense honed from having templars watch your every movement at the Circle Tower. Some of them really do while some managed to master the art of standing upright while asleep. The sixth sense had often aided Neria in deciding when would be a good time to get up to mischief.
While Neria had been curious about the identity of her watcher, she could sense that the person was in no way a danger to her. When Zevran walked out of the shadows cast by the stand of trees, she was not startled but pleased. Sheathing her daggers, she cheekily grinned and spoke in a singsong voice. "Missed me?"
Zevran's jaw would have literally dropped if he did not have total control over his facial expressions. "I thought you were mute?"
Neria shrugged. "I was brought to Antiva to see Ines so that she could cure my injury. I was not always mute. It was the result of an unfortunate accident." The lie rolled off her tongue with practised ease. The voice she now had was as close to the voice of a young child as Ines' potions could create. It was not too high pitched, soft and sweet.
"Didn't anyone tell you that it is dangerous to roam the streets of Antiva in the dark?" Zevran snapped making a mental note of the lady mage's apparent ability to create miracles plus Neria's intriguing importance as an individual to warrant such travel and expense. "Any numbers of criminals roam here."
"Then it is good that you are here to protect me." Neria flashed a bright smile up at him.
"…I am one of those criminals when I have not been paid to protect you." Zevran snorted, deliberately turning his gaze cold, calculating and deadly.
Neria scoffed haughtily and rolled her eyes. Zevran frowned as an elusive memory flashed before his eyes, disappearing before he could make sense of it. "You wouldn't hurt me." The little girl asserted impudently.
"…Are you positive about that?" Zevran smiled toothily, reminding Neria of the pictures she had seen of Antivan jungle cats baring their teeth. To her great sorrow and Zevran's even greater pleasure, they had not encountered any of these sleek predators during her excursion.
The hairs on the back of her neck suddenly prickled and she whipped around, daggers out without conscious thought. Zevran felt that odd swell of pride for her near proficiency.
A lanky human young man with short cropped dark hair was standing in the shadows eyeing Zevran and Neria with avid curiosity. Neria raised an eyebrow at him challengingly while mentally sifting through her repertoire of spells frantically searching for one that would be least likely to give her away and still render any threat he may post harmless.
Zevran heaved a sigh behind her. "Taliesen, what are you doing here?"
Talisen blinked and closed the distance between Zevran and himself. "I was supposed to take over your shift, remember? I was making my way using the shortcut across the park when I heard your voice." Leaning in to speak in Zevran's ear, he whispered urgently. "What are you doing here? You know this contract is of great significance to Master Frediano. He'll kill you and all of us as well if we fail."
"If he kills us, he will have to start doing his own dirty work. That is as likely to happen as a dock whore is likely to remain pox free." Zevran hissed back in anger. "Enough talk. She is not one of us."
Neria's ears twitched. Despite the faintness of their tones, she had heard everything. She may get teased mercilessly about her long elven ears but they had their uses. She grew cold inside as she wondered who their target was. Surely not Ines, Irving or Greagoir? She casually re-sheathed her daggers and turned to Zevran with a raised eyebrow. "Who is your target?"
"That, piccino, is none of your concern and strictly Crow business." Zevran stated with finality.
Neria's eyes flashed with irritation, turning obsidian. "If you will not tell me, I will alert the templars and mages that the Crows are targeting someone within the Antivan Circle."
"Dead girls don't talk." Taliesen uttered in a menacing tone, daggers suddenly appearing in his hands. Zevran placed a hand on his friend and stared at the defiant little girl. She had not backed down at the face of this threat. In fact, if Zevran were forced to describe the emotion blithely displayed on the young girl's face, he would have incredulously pronounced it as savage anticipation. What a bloodthirsty little girl she is. Zevran felt his loins tighten at the thought and nearly groaned in frustration.
"Taliesen, go take up your post. I'll handle this." Zevran shoved the human towards the path to the Antivan Circle before he could act on his threat. Taliesen looked uncertainly at Zevran before turning away to do as told when Zevran glared sternly at him.
Neria raised an eyebrow in disbelief at Zevran, he had withdrawn his daggers from their scabbards, very clearly undaunted. She did not move an inch even when he prowled ominously towards her. He pressed a dagger to her throat and she just beamed sweetly up at him, reaching out to hug one of his legs with both arms.
Muttering a string of Antivan curses that would have caused a dockside whore to blush, Zevran hastily re-sheathed his daggers and extricated himself before she could further increase his state of arousal. "Why don't you have the good sense to be afraid of me? I am an Antivan Crow. We are assassins. We kill people for a living."
"I believe that you would never intentionally hurt me." Neria intoned sweetly as she smiled serenely.
Zevran huffed despairingly. "I'm not sure if that makes you an ignorant fool or me an incompetent Crow." He squatted down to face her. "Are you really going to tell on us if I don't reveal the identity of our target?"
Neria's eyes darkened again and she nodded resolutely. After a very short internal debate where his instincts rode roughshod over his suspicious nature, Zevran mumbled. "Alfonso, the First Enchanter of the Antivan Circle, and his entire cell of Crows."
Neria chortled wickedly. "That's too easy!"
"Easy? What do you mean easy?" Zevran enquired with great interest. Perhaps the little elven rogue knew something about the First Enchanter that would give them a fighting chance given that she lived in the Antivan Circle.
"He doesn't taste test all his chocolates, just the ones with individual types."
Zevran narrowed his eyes at the little imp in front of him. "And you would know this because?"
"I saw his lover deliver a box to him. He immediately opened it and made each of his bodyguards eat a piece. I very politely asked for one but he refused to share. Such a miser he is when he gets a box every other day." Neria pouted then grinned mischievously. "I followed his lover when she went to get it. She used that section of the wall you followed me out of."
Zevran felt an irrational urge to laugh. All that worry and planning for a full scale attack and it may only take a single piece of chocolate to end such a prominent target.
"Ines promised me that I could get chocolates to bring home to share with the others." Neria mumbled, stealing a glance at the preoccupied assassin. "Perhaps I could help you?" She had nothing personal against this Alfonso but in just a day within the Antivan Circle, she could sense the menace and malice of the man despite his ready smile.
Having spent four days in the Antivan Circle, with her nocturnal habits and propensity to wander around, she had uncovered some atrocities that seemed barbaric to her but accepted by all others. Ines had told her not to interfere as she was only here for a short time while the victims may be beleaguered upon her departure. The way the apprentices and mages stuttered, stammered and flinched when they were around the Antivan First Enchanter did not exactly bolster his act of kindliness towards the other First Enchanters and their delegates.
"You do realise that we are not seeking to protect him?" Zevran enquired hesitantly.
Neria chuckled with great amusement. "I'm not a fool, Zevran. I know contracts taken and executed by the Antivan Crows mainly entail assassinations. If removing him would help to dispel that constant feeling of fear within the Antivan Circle, I would like to help." She would also like the opportunity to see the great Antivan Crows she had read about doing what they did best. Her mouth curved with a decidedly sinister grin.
Zevran felt a strange thrill of fear and excitement travel down his spine seeing that deadly smile. Yes, the little girl would have made an excellent Crow recruit.
It was a simple plan. Neria would bring Zevran to the chocolatier and he would make further plans based on the reconnaissance done. Waiting impatiently for the young girl, Zevran nearly did a double take when he saw her in an apprentice's robe with a templar trailing behind her. She made for a store selling dwarven made weapons and started browsing the daggers on sale.
"What the Void do you think you are doing?" Zevran whispered urgently to Neria as he stood behind her examining the selection of short swords.
"Less questions, more action. Follow us without the templar's knowledge when I exit this store." Neria muttered under her breath while her eyes glinted with unholy delight over a pair of daggers that looked almost similar to hers. "How much for those?" She indifferently asked the diminutive storekeeper.
"Fifteen sovereigns." The stoic proprietor answered.
Neria narrowed her eyes at the merchant. "Those are not even dwarven made. You expect me to believe you came by them through legal means? Fifteen silvers and I will take these stolen goods off your hands."
"You have some nerve accusing an honest trader." The vendor was red in the face and Zevran felt to be protesting too much.
"You are a swindler and I could report you to the authorities for hawking ordinary metal as dwarven steel." Neria whispered deviously. "Or you can accept these fifteen silvers and give me those daggers."
"The Stone take you!" The merchant muttered furiously before swiping the proffered money off Neria's hands and shoving the desired daggers at her. "Get out and I never want to see you here again."
She smiled sweetly at the raging dwarf, kept the daggers in her pack, turned and dashed through the marketplace before sprinting into another alley that led to the quieter residential parts of the city. The templar followed her doggedly, jogging to keep up with the fleet footed little girl.
Zevran took off at a run into an alley that was parallel to the one Neria had turned into and scaled the wall nimbly to perch on the roof. Neria had stopped, panting and leaning against a side wall. The apprentice robe she had on was drawn up to her knees while she examined her left ankle. The templar rushed in, took one look at her state and collapsed against the other wall, also panting.
Neria turned those bright, hazel eyes at the templar and pled innocently. "My ankle, Ser, it hurts so. Would you take a look at it for me?"
The templar grunted, removed his helm and swept his sweaty grey hair away from his face. "You shouldn't run like that. The cobblestones may cause a bad twist if you are not careful." He scolded while bending down to gently take Neria's foot in his hand.
"I'm sorry." Neria apologised contritely and covered the templar's nose and mouth with a large strip of linen. The templar gasped in disbelief and lost his grip on her ankle. Zevran watched spellbound as Neria gripped the templar's head firmly in her small hands and continued to smother him until he lost consciousness. Lightly resting his head on the cobblestone floor where she placed the drugged handkerchief, Neria uncorked a small flask, tilted the templar's head and poured it down his throat.
"Do I want to know why you are murdering templars now?" Zevran slithered up to the little girl just as she got up to stow away the empty flask into her pack.
"He's not dead." She snorted derisively. "Just incapacitated for the next few hours." Stealing a mischievous glance at Zevran, she started unbuckling the templar's armour.
"What do you think you are doing?" Zevran protested vehemently as Neria insouciantly stripped the man.
"What better disguises than a nondescript apprentice escorted by a knight of the Chantry?" She smirked while throwing a plated pauldron to him. "Nobody ever suspects them of anything nefarious."
Zevran looked down at the plain servant's clothing that he had been wearing and shrugged. Perhaps the little minx was right. The helm would keep others from knowing that he was an elf and ensure his identity remains a secret.
"Here, drink this. It helps to increase your strength temporarily so that you would be able to move with so much more weight than you are used to." She drew a clean gambeson out from her pack. "Oh, and this is what goes underneath first. I didn't think you would want to wear his after he had walked from the Antivan Circle to the marketplace in this weather. I'll just be look away. Tell me when you are done."
Noticing the light blush on Neria's face as she looked down, Zevran could not stop himself from teasing. "You know, if you wanted to get me naked, you only needed to ask."
"I do not…" Neria looked up in outrage just as Zevran had removed his cuirass. Heat rose to her cheeks and she quickly looked away again without continuing. Zevran felt his own face flush unexpectedly. Great! Now I am blushing just because a babe saw my torso? I seriously need a better sexual distraction than Taliesen. Perhaps one of the more willing female Crows.
He put on the gambeson and the various parts of the heavy templar armour, buckling everything that he could reach. Clearing his throat loudly, he gruffly muttered. "I'll need your help with some of these buckles."
Neria looked up blankly, a myriad of thoughts sweeping across her face, and completed his efforts. Handing him the helm, she indicated that he should put it on and precede her out of the alley. Once Zevran's back was turned, Neria quickly cast Force Field, Misdirection Hex, Glyph of Warding and Spell Might on the area around the templar and Zevran's neatly folded armour. That should keep anyone from seeing this until we get back.
Zevran started to turn around when he realised that Neria was not following him. She ran ahead of him so that he would hopefully follow and not bear witness to her handiwork. When Zevran started after her without a pause, Neria breathed a sigh of relief. I'm sorry but it's best if you didn't know I'm a mage.
"Let's go, Ser. I am anxious to get chocolates for my friends back in Ferelden." Neria's eyes twinkled as she winked at Zevran before leading him to the First Enchanter's chocolatier.
The shop that Neria had led Zevran to was one frequented by the merchant princes of Antiva. Slipping into the store, Zevran watched with bemusement while Neria gazed in fascination at the variety of chocolates sold. Given her age and nationality, perhaps she really was that mesmerized. As far as Zevran knew, only Orlais could top Antiva when it came to production of fine chocolates.
Flitting around the premises, Neria spoke to each shop assistant, engaging them in discussions about the various types of chocolates, how they were made and their ingredients. Somehow each shop assistant would beguile the little girl with all their knowledge drawing in other customers with their descriptions. Once each shop assistant was engaged with another customer, Neria would flit away to another. At the end of her trip round the small shop, all the assistants were busy with other clients and none were near the back entrance to the kitchen. Neria winked conspiratorially to Zevran and quietly made for the door.
An elderly elven man was just removing some of the most exquisite confections Zevran had ever seen from small ice runed moulds. Neria squealed in delight and snatched one up to pop into her mouth. Immediately, a dagger flashed from the shadows and Zevran barely got the templar's sword out in time to deflect it from sinking into Neria's throat. Neria paled and turned eyes bright with tears to the woman who had stepped out from the shadows.
"Such impertinence! These chocolates are especially made for the First Enchanter of the Antivan Circle." The woman with russet curls and sensuous curves sneered. "A mere apprentice dares to steal what is his?"
Neria turned those wide hazel eyes brimming with tears at the elderly chocolatier. "I'm sorry…" she sniffed piteously. "I didn't know. They just looked so delicious. I've never had chocolate before." A tear slid from her eyes and Zevran nearly snorted in amusement. The little minx really had the act of manipulation down to an art. He convinced himself of this as he fought the urge to murder the other Crow for making the little girl cry.
"Dorotea! Enough! She is just a child." The elderly man patted Neria on the head while offering her a seat. "I can always make another. It would only take a minute. Would you like to watch child?"
Neria gave the old man a shy, tentative smile. "May I? I don't wish to cause any trouble for you, hahren."
The old man laughed heartily. "Hahren?"
"I was taught to always greet the elderly with respect as they have lived and experienced more than we can imagine in our young lives." Neria bashfully replied. "Unless you mind me calling you that, hahren?"
The old chocolatier chortled delightedly. "No, piccino, I don't mind. This is my kitchen and I can invite anyone I wish to watch me." Reaching for the batch of chocolate warming over a small fire, he pointedly stared at the female Crow who still had her weapons drawn. "It is good to finally have an appreciative observer."
Neria's gasps, gawks and breathy exclamations filled the kitchen as the elderly chocolatier created yet another confection from chocolate removed from the same mould where Neria had previously filched her first chocolate. "That looks super delicious!" Neria excitedly reached for it again. A throwing knife sank itself beside her hand.
"Enough of this! The First Enchanter is not a patient man. This batch is already late." Dorotea hissed and seized the box as soon as the old chocolatier completed wrapping it in gold coloured paper. She removed the throwing knife and left with nary a word of thanks.
Neria hopped off the chair she had been perching on and reached for the moulds. "Let me help you wash them, hahren." She carried them to the basin, poured water over them and started scrubbing them enthusiastically. With a hopeful backwards glance, she asked. "If I'm really good, would you teach me how to make those heavenly creations?"
In the end, Neria not only managed to coax the elderly chocolatier to teach her the techniques for making some of the confections, they also left the shop with twenty large boxes of the shop's best confections.
Zevran was greatly amused. He had an idea how little Neria wished to help with the contract but her efforts to duplicate the elderly chocolatier's creations had been drab to say the least.
"How long before you think you would be able to create a confection that resembles anything like these?" Zevran smirked gesturing to the boxes he was carrying.
Neria arched an eyebrow in puzzlement. "Years?" She worried her lips. "I don't think the ingredients are readily available in Ferelden for me to practice. Why?"
Zevran frowned worriedly. "Was it not your plan to poison Alfonso with one of these chocolates he is so fond of?"
Neria laughed hilariously. "Yes, it was and he probably would not live to see tomorrow's sunrise."
"What?" Zevran turned to gaze at Neria in astonishment. "Why would you say that?"
"Because I've already poisoned that last chocolate the hahren made." Neria smiled with evident anticipation.
Zevran nearly gaped but questioned instead. "How? What poison did you use?"
Neria raised an eyebrow. "You didn't really think that I would snatch anything without permission? That would be just rude." Deadly anticipation filled her eyes. "It's a cocktail I made just for him. Concentrated Magebane, Concentrated Crow Poison and a dash of Lanthrax. It should not kill him immediately, this combination normally takes some time to take effect."
A particularly vicious smile appeared on Neria's lips. "While I was wandering the halls last night, I heard him give one of the younger apprentices to his personal guards for entertainment despite her pleas for forgiveness." Her eyes flash with ire, turning obsidian. "The world has no need of such people."
"Remind me never to get on your bad side." Zevran chuckled apprehensively. Neria's voice had been cold as death as she intoned those words.
Just like that, her eyes reverted to bright hazel and she flashed him a brilliant smile. "I don't think you could unless you seek to assassinate me."
It took a while before Zevran's mind processed the ingredients of Neria's lethal concoction. He blamed the heat he was suffering from within the plated armour. "How did you get the recipe for Concentrated Crow Poison? It is not something readily available for sale."
Neria giggled and sped ahead of him. She had no intention of telling him that he had shared it with her during one of her visits into his dreams. Beolagh had indolently mentioned to her that she was invading the young Crow's privacy by not telling him what she was doing, comparing her behaviour with that a demon but she had simply waved away his concerns. She wanted to learn all the skills she could in case she ever really lost her magic. She did not know if she could still do this at the Circle Tower.
Neria had found herself connected to Zevran's dreamscape when she had first slept upon returning to the Antivan Circle. She was angry to find Zevran trapped in another nightmare where he was imprisoned in a hole in the ground with sharp spikes all around. She knew there was a chance that dreams were not real but she had the sinking feeling that these were all Zevran's darkest memories.
So she had made him aware of her presence before reshaping the Fade into the jungle landscape they were both familiar with. In them, they would sit and chat and he would introduce various Antivan food and pastries, Crow skills and poisons. She had always found talking to Zevran simple and fulfilling. Zevran was a very generous teacher and taught all that he could, and never sought to horde any knowledge to himself. Neria was free to express any thoughts no matter how repulsive and he would give his opinion without judgement.
She was unsure if this was due to him believing that nothing was real in the Fade or that he was really that open. She had a strong feeling it was the former and had started to feel uneasy about taking advantage. However, in her mind, ends do justify means. She would tell him when she had learnt all she could or before she left.
She scurried ahead of him, dispelling the wards she had cast on his armour and the well-meaning templar before Zevran had even reached the entrance of the alley. Neria turned away again while Zevran shrugged out of the heavy, hot and stifling plate armour. She handed him a towel without looking up and took another flask from her pack when Zevran touched her shoulder to let her know he had completed changing back into his armour. This she set aside as she motioned for him to help her get the templar back into his.
She propped the templar up with Zevran's help and slipped the fluid from the flask into the templar's mouth. Gesturing for Zevran to leave, Neria picked up the templar's hand and grasped it around her ankle before sending a very small Heal spell into the templar. He immediately woke, eyes blurrily focusing on her.
"Ser? Are you alright?" Neria innocently enquired. "You have had your hand on my ankle for quite some time. Is it really twisted?"
The templar reflexively closed his hand around Neria's ankle in a squeeze then released it in a rush. "No, it is not twisted. I think the weather has finally gotten to me. The heat is too sweltering."
"Oh… Do you need help to carry the boxes then?" Neria ingenuously offered.
"What boxes?" The templar was clearly astounded by the twenty large boxes surrounding him. "Where did these come from?"
"We bought them from the chocolatier we visited just now." Neria replied with nary a blink. "Are you feeling alright, Ser? Perhaps we should hurry back to the Circle so that you may rest."
"Yes, yes. We should rush back. It is rather late now." The templar gathered the boxes in his arms as if they weighted no more than a feather, turned and headed for the Antivan Circle. Neria knew it would not take much to convince the old templar that they had been to the chocolatier together. His similarity in size to Zevran had not been the only reason for Neria to seek him out for this afternoon's jaunt. The fact that he was almost close to retirement due to his lyrium addiction was another. The lapse in his memory could be easily attributed to that by him and his peers. Neria only needed to supply their supposed history for the past few hours in case the embarrassed templar needed to report their outing to his superiors when they arrived back at the Antivan Circle.
Zevran once again marvelled at the little girl's ingenuity. She had the wit of a much more mature person and, he comforted himself, perhaps, that explained his obsession with her.
That evening, Zevran and the other members of his cell entered the Antivan Circle through that section of the outer wall that was not really there, a literal bolt hole for the Antivan Crows under Alfonso's employ, for their final assault. From the revelry within the dining hall and the kitchens and the relaxed stances of the other occupants of the Antivan Circle, Zevran knew that Neria had somehow managed to engage the entire Circle in celebration, a rare occasion for everyone in it.
By early morning the next day, they were all in place and he signalled the member in charge of poisoning the Crows' pastries to proceed. Neria had shared that the Crows only ate pastries and not the hard bread served to the mages and apprentices in the Antivan Circle. Zevran had to wonder at the foolishness or complacency of these Crows. Did they really think themselves invincible?
"The First Enchanter is dead!"
"Poisoned by Crows!"
"Found by servants this morning, blood trailing from his eyes, ears, nose and mouth."
"Who's going to be First Enchanter now?"
The whispers, if they could be called that given their volume, surrounded the Fereldan mages as they sat down for breakfast in the great hall. Neria did her best to look appalled at the news but felt Ines' sharp glance on her. Oh well… I never really managed to keep anything from her yet. Irving paled when a murder of Crows led by Dorotea tramped into the dining area like a host of vengeful angels.
Her gaze swept across the hall silencing all talk as she searched for her prey. She levelled an enraged glance at the leather clad Neria and stomped up to her. Greagoir was out of his chair at a speed Neria found astonishing with the massive armour he wore.
"We will take this traitorous little whore into possession for the murder of First Enchanter Alfonso." Dorotea announced without preamble, motioning to the other Crows around her to seize the young apprentice.
Neria widened her eyes at the accusation. Surely she had not seen me laced the mould or she would not have left so peacefully. "I have not seen the First Enchanter since the day before yesterday. How could I have murdered him?" She turned eyes bright with tears to Irving, Greagoir and Ines. "I spent yesterday afternoon with the nice chocolatier hahren and that friendly templar uncle. The chocolatier hahren taught me how to make those not so good looking confections I gave you." Tears fell from her eyes as she gazed at the Crows in front of her.
The men Dorotea had sent to take Neria into custody hesitated. With Neria's performance, there was not a single person in the room who believed the sweet, little girl was in any way involved in the First Enchanter's passing. She was not even Antivan but a Fereldan and everyone in Antiva knew them for their forthrightness.
"Do you have any proof of this?" Greagoir angrily retorted. "This is a very serious accusation to level on such a young girl. In addition, should this case not be handled by the Chantry?"
Dorotea flushed in agitation. In truth, there was no proof of Neria's involvement. All facts pointed to Crow activity but she just a very strong hunch that the young apprentice was somehow mixed up in it. She was about to speak when Ines' dry tone cut her off.
"You do realise that Neria was in the dining hall and kitchen all yesterday evening, passing out boxes of chocolates to celebrate the recovery of her voice?" Ines remarked drily. "Even though the First Enchanter was here, he did not partake in any of the food or drinks. It has always been his habit to eat and drink alone. Although that did not stop him from getting poisoned."
Dorotea was about to speak again when a black tipped, black fletched arrow buried itself in her foot. Chaos immediately erupted in the dining hall. Ines quickly ushered their little group out through the nearest exit which by some stroke of luck, they were sitting very close to. Sieving through her memory, Ines shot a suspicious glance at Neria. It had been her idea to sit so close to the exit this morning.
"The Antivan Crows sends their regards." The words were vaguely heard before blood curdling screams erupted from the room. "We are only interested in those under previous First Enchanter's employment…"
The words were drowned by the frenzied voices within the dining hall and further cut off by the solid oak door as Ines dragged Neria away from what would most likely be a massacre.
Her eyes narrowed when she saw a look of disappointment flit across Neria's face before it reverted to her innocent mask. Signalling for Irving and Greagoir to follow her, she towed Neria into her room and sat down with a huff of exasperation. "These Antivan Crows will take a while to sort out their differences." She levelled a disconcerting look at Neria. "Perhaps it's best if you make preparations to leave immediately to avoid unnecessary questions."
It took all of Neria's self-control not to squirm under Ines' penetrating gaze. She met her eyes without flinching and guilelessly asked, "May I go purchase more chocolates? I gave out more than I intended to yesterday evening."
Greagoir and Ines stared at each other, silently communicating without words. "Perhaps, it would be better if she was away from here. I will escort her there. You and Irving you can get our luggage out of here without mishap?" Greagoir continued on Ines' nod. "Even if the ship cannot sail immediately, it may be safer to stay there until it can."
So it was that Neria found herself hustled from store to ship which was miraculously ready to set sail once they had boarded it. She had purchased another fifteen large boxes of the marvellous chocolate confections from the old chocolatier. He had been delighted at her patronage and gave her a little notebook filled with recipes and instructions for her to create her own in Ferelden when he learnt she was leaving.
Her only regret was that she had no idea if Zevran survived the impossible.
Master Frediano had been ecstatic at the results of this contract. He was full of praises for Zevran's planning and execution. Even though Zevran had very little to do with the death of the Antivan First Enchanter, he bragged about it to keep Neria's involvement a secret. It would not do for anyone to know the little elven girl had been involved.
The strike within the dining hall was a success given the odds. Seven against fifty, with only two fatalities within his cell, and the other cell had been totally decimated. When the rest of the Antivan mages and apprentices, the other delegates having fled, had been assured that they were only after the remnants of the previous First Enchanter's cell, some had even helped. It was obvious that there had been no love lost between them and the occupants of the Antivan Circle. The poisonous cocktail that Neria had shared with him had also indubitably reduced their opponents' combat abilities making them relatively easy kills for Zevran and his teammates.
He had waited for Neria in the little park near the Circle wishing to share the details of the attack but the little girl did not show up for her pre-dawn exercises. In the end, he went back to his little room and had fallen exhausted into a deep sleep. There had been another disturbingly realistic dream about her.
"Did you get hurt?" The dream Neria asked.
"What? The fabulous Zevran? Not even a scratch." Zevran grinned and caressed her cheek. "All thanks to your lethal brew. They didn't even know they had no means to fight back until they drew their weapons."
"Great! I assumed that they are all dead?" Neria grinned maliciously.
"Every last one of them." Zevran confirmed, smiling at the satisfied gleam in Neria's eyes.
"I'm on my way back to Ferelden. Greagoir and Irving deemed the situation too dangerous to remain in Antiva. A lot of people heard Dorotea accuse me of murdering Alfonso." Neria muttered sadly.
Zevran felt that sinking feeling of disappointment that he had not felt for a very long time. Even though this was a dream, he did not allow his feelings to manifest. Scoffing loudly, he dismissed her concerns. "Everyone knows it was executed by our cell now. They will not pursue this any further." He continued in a scornful voice. "The new First Enchanter is a relative of the current Antivan Grand Cleric. I would not be surprised if she was the one to engage us for this contract in the first place."
Neria beamed at him, pulled him down and kissed him lightly on the lips. "I don't know when we would be able to meet again. So farewell, my friend. May our ways be guided by Ghilan'nain so that we once again cross paths."
-0-
9:20 Dragon Age, Circle Tower, Lake Calenhad, Ferelden – Aneirin (17), Anders (15)
There may never be a better chance. The new elven kitchen maid had similar height, build, hair and eyes as him. Aneirin's only regret was that he would not get to bid farewell to the friends he had made for these three years. They were the only rays of light in this Creators forsaken place. He had not wanted to make any friends but Neria had somehow wormed her way into his heart and he could no more deny her offer of friendship than he could stop the flow of time. The group had bonded over mischief and mayhem largely thanks to the little elven girl. She was that candle in the darkness for him. Unfortunately, one solitary candle could not defeat an eternal darkness.
Everything was in place. He had to act before something scared this one away. Only the stout hearted and nimble stayed on as servants at the Circle Tower. Besides the high possibilities of being singed, frozen or accidentally plummeted by a misaimed stone fist, there were the harmless and not so harmless tricks the apprentices got up to with glyphs and other unauthorised spell combinations. This one probably would not last another week given her reaction to that little prank Kinnon had played on her.
Aneirin had placed a Glyph of Paralysis on the maid's way to the lavatory before her trip back to mainland. She had done this every time since she had started work here and Aneirin prayed to the Creators that she would not choose this night to change this habit as he laid in wait for her.
There she is! The maid was immediately paralysed when she stepped on the glyph and Aneirin hurried out to bind her eyes with a bandage stolen from the infirmary. He gagged her with another cloth before removing her clothes and covering her with his discarded robes. Swiftly changing into her threadbare blouse and patched skirt, Aneirin dragged her into a darkened corner and tied her to a tree. He ran for the boat while tugging his hair under the kerchief she had on her head.
"About time you came, bloody knife ear." Kester grumbled loudly. "Get on board quickly so the rest of us can make it home for supper."
Aneirin bowed his head in submissive acknowledgement before taking his seat right at the back. As the boat glided away from the Circle Tower, his heart felt free for the first time in a very long time. No more shemlens forcing themselves on him. No more walls without any natural light. No more asking for permission before playing in the sun. No more imprisonment. I am free.
The Circle Tower was in an uproar. A maid was found trussed up against a tree, naked except for an apprentice robe covering her. They were all roused from bed in an hour before dawn for a head count and it was soon determined that the escapee was Aneirin.
Anders was initially as shocked as the rest of their friends. For Aneirin to have escaped so quickly meant that he had already planned this for quite some time. The anger was secondary. He felt that he had betrayed. Aneirin clearly did not trust him enough as a friend to share his plans with him despite Anders always being there to help heal him after each session of abuse at the hands of the templars. He was not sure if it made them closer as friends but he had started to develop a deeper sense of affection for the older elf than for the rest of their group. Aneirin obviously did not have similar feelings.
A team of four templars were sent with his phylactery to hunt him down. In spite of his hurt feelings, Anders could only hope that they were not the same four who had been abusing Aneirin on a regular basis.
He was hunted. He did not know how they tracked him but track him they did. Even though he wore clothes of a woman, did not use any magic even to light a fire on the cooling nights, they were on to him. Every village, every town he passed through he could not stay for more than a night before they were there, asking around for an elf of his description. His luck finally ran out in a village not far from Dragon's Peak. One of its more gossipy inhabitants had described a red headed female elf that matched their description but not a male.
The templars immediately caught on that Aneirin was still in disguise and he cursed the day he had helped the old lady pick up her belongings. It was not something he would have normally done. However, the kindly looking old shem lady had seemed so lost when the handle of her bag tore off and all her items dropped to the ground. Aneirin could not just stand by and watch her scrambling to pick up her goods like the other shemlens.
He nearly screamed in frustration. Just once, could I not be rewarded for doing good? Thus it was that instead of moving on to Denerim to see his family one last time, he determinedly turned towards the Brecilian Forest after stealing some man's clothes from still wet laundry to find and stay with his Dalish cousins. From the books Neria had shared with him, the Dalish were much more tolerant with magic users and no templar had the authority or temerity to capture a Dalish mage protected by a clan.
"Where do you think you can run to, knife ear?" The voice that Aneirin thought he would never hear again nearly brought him to his knees. Turning, he found himself facing four templars. "Some guts you had to run away from us." Dangling a small brightly glowing crimson glass vial on a short chain from his hands, the templar laughed harshly. "Do you know what this is?"
"Stupid knife ear probably doesn't even know its use." Another voice joined in a jeering tone.
"He needs to be taught to mind his betters before we haul him back to the Circle Tower." The raspy voice was accompanied by the removal of breeches.
Something in Aneirin snapped. To be so close to freedom only to lose it was devastating to his psyche. Any day now he would find the Dalish elves, he just needed more time. He was not going back to that prison where magic was deemed a curse and the so called keepers abused more than protected. He was not going back to that abyss without a fight.
Aneirin cast a Mind Blast on the templars which, miraculously, managed to stun them before they could smite him. Turning to the lead templar who had been his main tormentor for the past three years, he cast Crushing Prison before starting on another Mind Blast. However, his luck did not hold out. One of the templars recovered quicker than the rest and immediately smote him.
Drawing his longsword, he slashed Aneirin from shoulder to chest. The Crushing Prison stopped immediately and the lead templar's grunts of pain ceased. The other templars also recovered and drew their weapons against him. Aneirin felt a sick sense of satisfaction at the fear he could sense from them.
The lead templar gritted out tersely. "What are you waiting for? Kill him!"
"He could heal you. He was training as a Healer. Aren't they the most valuable mages?" The templar who had slashed Aneirin asked. "Killing him would be such a waste. Let's just teach him a lesson and cart him back." The other templars hesitated, looking between the two speakers.
"Very well. Heal yourself, apprentice, and let's have some fun." The lead templar sneered.
"You can have your fun… over my dead body." Aneirin grasped the templar's long sword and impaled himself on it. Free at last! This, at least, is my choice. He smiled a beatific smile.
"Maker! Is he insane?" The templar withdrew his longsword out of Aneirin with a sickening squelch. Gushes of blood flowed down the front of Aneirin's stolen peasant wear.
"We… We have to help him!" One of the hesitant templars stammered.
"I have health poultices and bandages!" The other was rummaging through his backpack.
"I will need those. He is beyond the help of health poultices. He turned maleficar, fought and we had to kill him. Is that understood?" The lead templar declared resolutely. The phylactery in his hand was no longer glowing; it was flickering weakly and its light looked to be going out very soon. Snorting in anger, he crushed it under his plated boot.
"You are leaving… him to bleed to… death? Sweet Andraste… We can't… do that!" The templar with the longsword stuttered nervously gazing from Aneirin to the lead templar and back.
The lead templar had unsheathed his weapon. "I have no problem reporting to the Knight-Captain that Ser Rhodri had unfortunately perished at the hands of the maleficar."
"Ser Alrick, please…" The templar who had been frantically searching his backpack spread out his hands in a placating gesture. "We can leave now and still make it back before the Knight-Commander comes back. He is the one who is most likely to ask questions given that this one is friends with his favourite."
Ser Rhodri frowned thoughtfully at Aneirin who had fallen to the ground with blood loss before sheathing his longsword. "I'm not dying for some knife ear whore. Let's head back before Ser Greagoir returns."
Ser Alrick walked up to Aneirin and kicked him in his face viciously with his plated boots wishing to dislodge that blissful smile. "Your little friends shall take your place."
Aneirin's eyes were glassy but a tear still slid down his face.
Translations
Piccola cara – Little Darling
Piccino – Child
Hahren – Elder
Author's Notes
A slightly early update. :) Be back in another fortnight.
I would like to thank Corea for your continual support and reviews. :)
I would also like to thank cbrstrshp, YukinaAmonYoukai and Eona for your reviews. :)
Thank you RivalAdmirer19 for adding me to your list of author alerts. :)
In addition, I would to thank DoctorPopeSamuel, LadyEdea and Eona for adding this story to your list of favourites and cbrstrshp, YukinaAmonYoukai and kiyob for adding this story to your alert list. :)
That said it really helps my writing to know what people think of each chapter. Please review to let me know if it's a hit or a miss. Please, I beseech you be kind :P More importantly, it would really help if you were specific about how I could improve if you want to cast stones. :)
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