Chapter 3: Presenting...Zorro
Josephine and Mahanon sat quietly on a bench near the elfroot gardens. Now that they were safely within the auspices of Antiva City's upper community, the two of them decided it was time to figure things out.
"...so the consensus was in allowing us to loan them money in return for the loan we were allotted, minus the interest that we accrued, plus taxing from overseas shipping..." Josephine calculated, staring at the ground.
"I won't even try to understand," Mahanon responded irritatingly. "What matters now is whether or not we even have a ship to go back with..."
"That can be arranged, Messere," said a mysterious voice from behind them.
The two of them jumped to their feet as Josephine pulled out her dagger.
"Who's there?" Mahanon called out.
A dark, caped figure appeared in front of them suddenly with a puff of smoke. Through the haze, Mahanon could barely make out the shape of a large feathered hat before realizing that the strange glimmer in front of his eyes was due to his staring right into the tip of a dueling blade.
"En guarde."
Mahanon stumbled back, wishing at the moment that he had not left his dragon-slaying bow back in his quarters at Skyhold.
"What...what the hell do you want - ?!" he sputtered, coughing from the smoke.
"To be the one to face you, a worthy adversary, of course," the voice, clearly Antivan, responded.
"What?! Please, my husband is a terrible duelist, surely you can understand - " Josephine interrupted, desperately waving the smoke from her eyes.
"Then shall we dance?"
With a blink of an eye, the blade traced a conspicuous 'Z' on the back of Mahanon's cloak just as he turned to run.
"I felt that! You're not getting away from this, bastard!" Mahanon retorted as he sprinted towards the noble estates.
"So I have ruffled some feathers it would seem. How do you respond, I wonder?" laughed the chasing figure.
Realizing he had no means to defend himself, Mahanon leapt over a fence into a noble's statue garden, where two children were playing. A girl stopped to gawk in surprise at the sight as the Inquisitor snatched the slingshot from her hands and ran past her, apologizing incessantly while insisting that the loan was temporary.
As he descended down a flight of stairs and into the courtyard, the cloaked figure appeared a few yards in front of him.
Mahanon slid to a halt on the ground, slingshot primed in his hand.
"Tsk tsk, you intend to use a child's toy on me?" the figure said coyly.
"I'm warning you, toy or not, I could pop a tusket's head off from three leagues away with my eyes closed!" Mahanon replied as he pulled the string taut.
"I believe you."
The man removed his hat to reveal a shining lock of gold hair; a delicately drawn wave pattern tattoo adorned the sides of his immaculately tan face as he flashed a smile at his victim.
"Zevran Aranai, at your service," he said, sweeping a bow.