Chapter 9: A City of Masks
Val Royeaux.
The capital city of the Empire of Orlais, it was called by his rulers the center of culture, art and music for all of southern Thedas.
Val Royeaux.
Seat of the Andrastian faith, it was the home to the newly elected Divine Justinia V, the place that all the faithful found their way to in one form or another.
Val Royeaux.
A place of schemes and the grand game, from here the Orlesian aristocracy flattered and deceived as they conducted their secret wars against each other, all fighting for attention of her Majesty Empress Celene.
It was to this city that Lyna was drawn. It was to this city that she hoped that her quest to find a cure for the Calling would truly begin. While going through the library of Vigil's Keep, she had discovered a book by a Chantry brother: Marcelle of Lydes. For almost a month she sat in the library pouring over that book. Brother Marcelle had done extensive research on the Blight, on all the Blights. He had collected names and dates. He told of potions used by the wardens to protect the common soldiers against the taint, and bolster their wills in the darkest battles. He told of places of great power, places the wardens had used to focus magical strength, and turn it against the Archdemons and their soulless followers.
Lyna had shaken her head as she finished reading that book.
So much information the man had learned, the warden could not help but wonder…
What had the man left out? What secrets must he have kept to himself, not wishing to anger the Grey Wardens?
If anyone knew anything of the Calling, and ways to counter act its effects, Brother Marcelle may have collected their works.
That made it worth her time to seek the man out.
A month before she had left the Vigil, she had sent a letter to her old companion Leliana. The former bard turned chantry sister was now living in the capital, working as an agent of the newly elected Divine.
It was through Leliana that she had learned that Brother Marcelle of Lydes was currently living in the capital, and it was through her old friend that she had learned his address.
Now after weeks of travel, she was on her way to speak with him, to learn, whatever it was he might know.
IOI
Lyna made her way down the long bridge and through the city gates. Several Orlesian nobles gawked as she and her companions passed by, gawked but quickly looked away before anyone in their group could take offense. Truth be told, she could not really blame them.
Heavily armed strangers, she would be weary of them as well.
Royce sneered at the nobles who fled from their path. More like strange birds then people, this lot, he had murmured.
Lyna could not really disagree with him.
Sister Esme kept her hood up, just in case the people from her village might have sent sketches of her face to the guards in the capital. Kierhen kept close watch on both Lady and Arrow. The sight of a full grown wolf, and a purebred Mabari walking the streets of Val Royeaux were something of an oddity.
Surprisingly, no guards challenged them over the animals' presence.
Fear did have some uses she supposed.
Findel, also hooded and cloaked, gawked at the sights of the human city. Lyna knew how he felt, she had been in awe of Denerim the first time she had seen it, all her life she had lived in the solitude of the forests, seeing a city for the first time was a bit of a shock.
The white marble structures, the brightly colored banners floating in the breeze, everywhere you looked icons of the golden lions could be seen, at least here in the more well to do part of the city.
"The symbol of the Valmont family," Bok informed Lyna.
"They are the kin of the Empress."
Lyna nodded.
So they were, she thought.
She glanced around at the fancily painted Orlesians their bright colors and fancy masks, most avoided her intense stare, the Dalish savage in their midst.
She smiled slightly.
Of course, the fact that she was Dalish might not have anything to do with their unwillingness to stare. Before entering the city she had dug out a tunic out of her pack, a gift from Alistair a year ago. The heavy gray fabric did its job of keeping off the morning chill, and the white griffon emblazoned on her chest kept the eyes of many gawkers away.
Alistair had smiled sadly as he held it up for her to see.
"Duncan told me about these," he said, "When he first came to Ferelden, he wore one to his first meeting with the king."
He handed her tunic.
"Might serve you will at all those political functions a warden commander has to go to," he said with a smirk.
He had laughed at the sick look she had given at that little comment. If anyone hated political functions more than Alistair, it had been her.
"Warden?"
She looked down. Bok was returning from one of the merchant's stalls, he held up a plain unmarked white mask.
The Dalish gave him a curious look.
The dwarf shrugged.
"In case you have not noticed, friend Lyna," he said, "Orlesians have a fascination with masks."
The dwarf smiled slightly.
"The important people of the city wear them, so…"
Lyna's ears twitched.
"You expect me to wear a mask?"
"It could not hurt," he said with a shrug, "Masks have an interesting history in Orlais. The Orlesians say that they allow them to be their true selves, plus they can also hide someone's identity, not a bad thing when you are being hunted. In fact it…"
He looked around.
"Ooh, look at that!"
The warden turned. A dwarven merchant sat by his stall in the shadows of one of the golden lions, swords and daggers of every type surrounded him.
Bok motioned for her to follow.
"Let's go check out his wares."
Curious, Lyna followed her companion. Esme was checking out a silk merchant's wares, while Royce did his best to keep his eye on the animals, Findel, and Kierhen.
When they were safely out of earshot of the others, the dwarf spoke more freely.
"See any familiar faces?" he asked.
Lyna's ears twitched.
"No. Why?"
The dwarf glanced around them.
"I've been thinking about what Kierhen told us back in the Exalted Plains, how we were being hunted."
"Yeah? So?" she said.
The dwarf pursed his lips.
"Well, according to Kierhen, someone has been aware of us since we first left Ferelden. I'm just trying to figure out how that came to pass."
He frowned.
"Tell me, dear warden, did you tell anyone about your decision to come Val Royeaux?"
Lyna frowned.
"I have a friend here, she works in the chantry. I wrote to her."
"Hm," Bok said tapping his lip.
"What," Lyna said.
"It may be nothing," he said, "Maybe everything."
She gave him an arched look.
"I trust my friend, master dwarf," she said, "She would not betray me."
"I never said your friend would betray you," he said raising his hands, "But I think we may have found out how we were discovered."
Lyna's eyes narrowed.
"My friend would not betray me," she repeated.
"I do not believe your friend did betray you," he said in a soothing voice, "But it is important to remember the chantry is a large place. Your letter might have passed through more hands than just your friends."
Lyna had been about to snarl an angry retort, when she considered what her friend was saying.
How many times had she been handed the Seneschal's private messages, she had never read them…but…
How many hands had her letter passed through? It was unlikely that Leliana retrieved it from the raven herself. What if some page had gotten curious, what if he had given it to another priest who had a deal with some noble to pass on any curious information?
Lyna frowned.
Bok was right, it was possible, someone could have read her letter to Leliana, and if that had happened…
Her trip to speak Brother Marcelle might have become a trap.
Bok picked up a dwarven mace; he turned it over in his hands inspecting the weight.
"There is another consideration you should make," he said conversationally, "You may not like it, but as a loyal hireling I think it is my duty to bring it up."
Lyna pretended to be interested in a new longsword.
"What consideration may that be?"
"Our Ranger friend," he said, "Who is to say that he is exactly what he claims to be."
Lyna's eyes narrowed.
"He helped us in that tavern?"
And by helping us, he is now travelling with us," Bok said, "He found us a mage, that knew him, and apparently a chantry sister for an ally, pretty enough, I might add, to distract our dear friend Royce."
Bok put down the mace.
"Who could say that this is not part of a larger plan on his part?"
Lyna's ears twitched, as she considered that.
"He might have been working with those men who attacked us, or with whoever hired them. He would have a much better shot at collecting the bounty on your head if he was with us."
"The why not try to kill us?"
"Maybe he is working for the person or persons who wants you alive, or perhaps he has his own agenda, and we just can't see it yet."
Lyna shook her head.
"Are you trying to turn me against the others, Bok?"
The dwarf shrugged.
"I merely wish you to be aware of what you are getting yourself into. People are not always honest. They have secrets, and their own agendas."
He gave her a concerned look.
"I merely wish for you to consider that."
He once again handed her the mask, she noticed that he had made changes to it with his dagger, skillfully cutting a series of symbols into it.
She gave him a questioning look.
He smiled again.
"Those markings mean that you are travelling under the protection of Orlais' Council of Heralds. Anyone in power sees that, they will know that you are under the protection of both the council and your order.
She smirked at him.
"And how would you know what markings this…council uses for its agents?"
Bok's smile widened.
"As I said, people have their secrets, even me."
Bok picked up the mace he had looked at earlier; he nodded to the stall's owner, and began to fish into his belt for coins.
Lyna beat him to it.
He gave her an arched look.
"For the advice," she said.
The dwarf nodded.
"Fair enough."
He took the mace, and they slowly began their walk back to the rest of their group.
Lyna slipped on the mask, and smiled down at her dwarven ally.
"One day, you will have tell me where a…gentleman of the road learned about the Orlesian Council of Heralds."
Bok snorted with amusement.
"No," he said softly.
"I won't."
IOI
It did not take the group long to learn the location of the scholar's home. The owner of a café in the marketplace said that Brother Marcelle often stopped in for his morning tea. The group took a table near the back hoping to catch the man when he came in. Despite the crowds in the marketplace they had the small eatery mostly to themselves. Only the café owner and a young girl playing a lute across from them were there for most of the morning. By midafternoon the girl had left, and Lyna had grown impatient.
She could not learn what the brother knew if she never got the chance to meet with him.
The warden's eyes narrowed.
Despite the danger, she realized she would have to risk going to the scholar's home. If someone was waiting for her there, she would just have to deal with them and hope for the best.
As a group they left the café. Findel stayed close to Lyna while Royce brought up the rear with Sister Esme. Both Bok and Kierhen kept one hand on their weapons. Lyna had informed them all that they might be walking into a trap, and she wanted them all prepared.
Sister Esme offered a quick prayer for their protection.
Bok snorted at that.
"Please do not do that my good woman,' he advised, "It is bad luck."
The sister frowned but held her peace.
It was midafternoon by the time they reached the address that Leliana had provided them with. Lyna's gaze had been darting around every corner since they had left the so called…nicer part of the city.
She was a bit surprised to find such a learned man, lived in such a rough part of town.
The buildings became more run down as they made their way down the street. The smell of wood and waste filled their noses. Lyna tried to ignore it, but even she was bothered by stench…
The warden shook her head.
How could humans live like this?
They finally came to a small stone staircase leading down into a tiny apartment off the main street.
According to Leliana, this was where the scholar lived when he was staying in the capital.
Lyna looked down the shadow filled steps.
A cool shiver ran down her spine.
"Wait here," she told the others, and began the trip down.
She was surprised when she felt a slight tingle from her warden's senses, not much, but enough to keep her guard up. She had sensed nothing of darkspawn since reaching the city. It could have come from some relic in the brother's keeping, but…
Lyna paused before the door; she reached out with her warden's senses, probing for any threat.
Her elven ears twitched, as her heart began to pound.
She felt nothing.
She licked her lips and knocked on the door.
It was unlocked and creaked open.
Lyna drew her dagger and ax and dropped into a fighting crouch, her every sense, heightened, by a perceived threat.
She stepped into the room, her elven eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness.
The scene before her did not please her.
The brother's home had been trashed, furniture smashed, book cases flipped over, drawers pulled out of cabinets their contents emptied on the floor.
Lyna crept into the room, feeling a slight flicker of anger at this violation.
She had come here seeking wisdom and now…now…
It looked like that wisdom may be lost.
She found what looked like a journal; it laid its cover wide open, as it lay flat on the floor.
Lyna picked it up and…
She jumped back; a gasp of surprise escaped her lips.
A face stared back at her, its yellowed skinned pulled taught against its skull, the mouth hung open in a look of pure fright. The eyes were white, boiled like a fish's that had spent too long on the cook fire.
Lyna
Eyes narrowed.
She had found Brother Marcelle.
Cursing under her breath, she slipped out of the man's home. Bok had not been wrong it seemed. Perhaps someone had read her letter to Leliana.
Read it, and took steps to prevent her speaking with Brother Marcelle.
A Dalish curse spit from between her teeth.
She was angry.
She felt cheated, but there was nothing she could do for the poor man now.
They needed to leave this place and quickly…
…Before someone got it into their heads to blame her for this.
She hurried up the steps and…
"Do not move Rabbit!"
Lyna froze weapons still in hand.
No less than twenty armed guardsman surrounded them. Royce, Bok and Kierhen already stood grouped together, their weapons removed.
Lyna glared at the guardsman, part of he wanted to resist, to fight their way out of this.
Fortunately, she knew better.
They were outnumbered.
Any fight now, would not end well.
She let the Orlesians take her arms.
"I'm a grey warden," she said, "You have no right to do this."
"Indeed," a cultured voice said behind her.
Lyna turned.
It was the girl from the tavern, the one with the lute.
She smiled sweetly.
No longer was the girl dressed in a simple gown, her leather armor with its silver buckles stood out starkly in the afternoon light. A pair of daggers with gold hilts sheathed at her belt suggested that she was no mere songstress. Her lips were curled into a cruel, yet amused smirk.
"So you are the Hero of Ferelden?" she said, "I expected someone…well…more."
Lyna glared at her.
The songstress laughed.
"Take them to the Grand Duke," she ordered.
The men nudged Lyna and the others forward.
Lyna never took her eyes off the girl, they promised swift retribution.
The girl did not seem to care.
"He has been expecting you."