Chapter 10: Guests and Bogeymen
"Well," Bok said with a jovial smirk, "As far as prisons go, this one is not bad."
The group was currently standing in a large sitting room. The noble estate that they had been brought to likely had many such rooms. Five or six large arm chairs sat around a large roaring fireplace. The portrait of a powerful looking Orlesian knight, stared out over the room. The floor was covered with thick fur rugs.
It was hardly a prison, unless you wanted to kill your prisoners with luxury.
Lyna's eyes narrowed slightly. The warden was still not quite sure what to make of all this. First they had been arrested at sword point…
…and now…this.
It didn't make sense.
Bok swaggered over to small table with a large wine decanter, and several empty goblets.
He poured himself a generous drink and downed it in almost one gulp.
A second or two later, the dwarf belched.
Esme rolled her eyes and shook her head. Royce gave the dwarf a dirty look, while Kierhen snorted and let his eyes drift around the room, looking for possible escape routes.
Findel watched the dwarf with a merry smile on his face.
Such a look was enough to get Bok's attention.
"What?" he asked the elven mage.
Findel chuckled.
"Nothing," he sneered, "Just waiting to see how fast it takes you to keel over after drinking such a large helping of likely poisoned drink."
Bok regarded the goblet thoughtfully then shrugged.
"Wine has killed before," he admitted, "But I doubt there is any more poison in this than there is in any other glass of wine."
Royce's brow furrowed.
"Really," the warrior said, "How do you figure that?"
Bok's smile widened.
"If our captors wished us dead, they could have killed us outside the scholar's home. Maker knew; they had the perfect excuse. A pack of armed foreigners standing outside the home of a dead Orlesian scholar…"
Bok shook his head.
"No city guard would have questioned them if they had done us all in. Yet, they chose not to do that. They disarmed us, yes, but left us our armor. They could have blindfolded us for our journey here yet they did not even try to hide the fact that we were being taken into the wealthier part of the city. Now… look at our current accommodations. Why are we not all locked in cells? Why choose to leave only a handful of guards outside the door, while we are left to our own devices in here?"
Bok shook his head again.
"No, friend Royce," he said, "No, I do not believe we are in any danger here, at least not yet. Perhaps our host/captor wishes us to relax before the real interrogations starts, but once again that does not fit what has happened to us so far…"
Bok poured himself another drink.
"No," he said taking only a tiny sip this time.
"I would say our captors have other things on their minds besides simply killing us."
Esme shivered and looked around. Royce, looking worried offered her his cloak.
"So we she not be worried that we're in a trap?" she inquired.
Again Bok chuckled.
"If this is all a trap, then were all stuck in it," he shrugged, "Might as well eat the cheese while our host decides his next move."
Lyna considered what the dwarf said. Bok made many interesting points. Had their captors wanted them dead, they would be dead, but that did not mean that they were not in danger. That bard leading those guards, and yes, Lyna believed without a shadow of a doubt that the girl was a bard, suggested that whoever she was working for wanted them all alive…for now.
The warden's elven ears twitched.
Could the bard's employer be the one who had put the live bounty on her head? Possible she supposed…
…She would just have to ask him about when they met.
Whoever was holding them, the bard must have sent word ahead to tend their needs. The wine decanter was full, and sitting off to one corner of the room was two large metal bowls filled with water.
…Refreshments for the Ranger's wolf and her Mabari, no doubt.
Lyna snorted.
Wasn't their captor a generous one?
So far this experience was quite honeyed…
She suspected that the bitterness would come later.
"Whoever brought us here wants something," the warden said with a sigh.
Esme looked at her.
"Why would you think that?"
Lyna rolled her eyes.
"From experience," she grumbled, "When I wasn't fighting darkspawn during the Blight I was running around doing odd jobs for people."
The warden shook her head.
"Alistair and I were pretty much gophers, go for this, go for that. My child is lost in the deep roads. I need this retrieved from an old ruin. I need every abomination killed in the circle tower."
The warden shook her head.
"The wondrous life of an adventurer," she said with sigh.
"Ugh!"
Kierhen kneeled before one of the water dishes, and tasted its contents. He held the contents in his mouth before spitting it into the fire.
Lyna gave him a quizzical look.
"It is not poisoned," he informed her, "Unless the poison is more subtle than anything else I've encountered."
The warden nodded.
So the hospitality extended to their animal companions too.
Interesting.
Both Arrow and Lady went to their respective bowls and drank.
Esme kneeled down next to the fire, warming her hands; the evening air had been very cold on their journey here.
Royce stayed close to her, his eyes never drifting far from her side.
Lyna frowned.
Bok had warned her about this too. He had mentioned on how he thought the young sister may be a distraction for their warrior ally.
When they got out of this, if they got out of this, she would need to pull the sister aside and talk to her. This undertaking was no place for those that could not fight, fend for themselves, or contribute to the group.
She would need to evaluate the sister's skills at the earliest convenience.
Kierhen was standing at the room's one lone window. They were about five stories up, with a straight down drop to a stone courtyard below.
No escape that way, unless someone was born with wings, or could grow a pair when she needed them.
The warden shook her head.
Morrigan would not have been caged so easily. In times like this, she envied the witch's skill to shapeshift.
Such abilities would come in handy in times like this.
She walked over to Kierhen. The ranger gave her an arched look.
"Keep an eye on the boy," she whispered, "If things take a turn for the worst…"
The Ranger nodded.
She did not need to say anymore.
The ranger was quick enough to reach the needed conclusions quickly, praise the Creators.
It was at that moment that door they had been led through opened again. The bard stood before them, still armed and armored, and backed up by two armored warriors.
She smiled at Lyna.
"My patron would like a word with you warden," she cooed, "If you would be so kind as to follow me."
Bok clasped his hands.
"Ah good," he said, "It would be nice to greet our generous host."
The bard sneered at him.
"My patron would prefer to meet with the warden…alone."
Kierhen started walking towards her.
"I'm sure he would," the ranger said with no little hint of menace in his voice.
The bard's hands drifted to her daggers.
Lyna raised her hand.
"I would be delighted to meet with your…patron," she said, "Provided my companions are looked after in the meantime of course."
The bard's smile became less predatory.
"You are all in no danger," she said, "My patron merely wished you taken off the street before…you caught the attention of…other interested parties."
Lyna digested what the bard had said.
Few people had known she was coming to Val Royeaux, fewer still knew she was seeking out the now dead Brother Marcelle.
It seemed that there was more going on here than she realized.
Perhaps the woman's employer could shed more light on the subject.
It seemed that she had little choice but to play along.
"Lead the way," she informed the bard, "I'm eager to make your employer's acquaintance."
"He will be most pleased, warden," she said with a slight curtsey.
She looked over Lyna's shoulder at her companions.
"You will all be given a chance to freshen up after my patron finishes with his meeting."
She gave them another cruel smile.
"In the meantime, please enjoy our hospitality."
One of the guards behind her opened the door and she motioned for Lyna to follow her, the warden gave the bard one final look before stepping out into the hall.
The bard joined her, followed closely by her two escorts, the last man out closed and locked the door anew.
Lyna looked at the other woman.
"I don't suppose your patron has a name," she inquired.
"All in good time, warden," the bard answered.
"All in good time."
IOI
Kierhen frowned as the bard led Lyna from the room.
So far the ranger was not pleased with how things were going.
When he had joined up with the Hero of Ferelden he had hoped for…well…more.
He glanced over at Findel; the boy was watching the closed door.
When he spoke, he sounded nothing like the arrogant little shit they had been travelling with.
"Do you think she will be all right?"
The ranger pursed his lips.
For a moment, the boy sounded like a scared child, which is exactly what he was. He had power, but that was still in its infancy. It would take time for the young mage to realize his full potential.
That is what this was all about…potential.
Kierhen had his own masters after all, people that promised much if he obeyed them. Findel could become a valuable ally if trained just so. Lyna was…
Kierhen shook his head.
Lyna was not what he expected.
He had spent much of his life hating the Dalish, hating them for what had happened to his father. Those he now served had promised to see the Dalish brought low when their dreams were realized.
Lyna would not like that, he suspected, which was of course, why he was here. The hero of Ferelden was a symbol to the elvhen people.
If his masters could control her, then their dreams would be much easier to realize.
It was his task to make sure that she did join them, if not…
The Ranger swallowed hard.
If not, she would have to be removed…for the greater good.
A hard choice to be sure…
…but…a necessary one.
IOI
The girl led her down one long hallway after another.
Lyna's eyes took in every little detail they passed, if this did turn into a fight she wanted to know exactly how to make it back to the others.
The bard said nothing as they continued their journey. Two guards walked in front of them two more behind, with the girl at the warden's side.
Lyna frowned.
If escape was possible it would not be easy.
They finally came to a heavy oak door at the end of a hallway. The bard motioned her forward while the two guards ahead of them took up positions next to it.
The girl knocked loudly.
"Enter," a cultured Orlesian voice responded from within.
The bard smiled.
She opened the door and motioned for Lyna to step inside.
The warden complied, but did so with the utmost care.
The room was smaller than the one that her friends had been taken to. The type of room a noble man might come to get paperwork done. The walls were dotted with many hunting trophies, animal heads and pelts from throughout Thedas.
At the far end of the room, sitting at a small oak desk was their host. A broad shouldered man with short cropped hair, and the half mask of an Orlesian noble. The finery he wore was more uniform than simple noble dress. His jacket gleamed with gold medals.
The man looked up and smiled at her.
"Lyna of the Grey Wardens, I presume?" he said in clipped Orlesian accent.
She nodded and crossed her arms over her heart in the traditional warden greeting.
She bowed slightly to her host.
"I am she," she replied, "May I ask who you are?"
The man chuckled.
"Forgive me," he said with an amused smile, "I'm too used to people knowing me I sight. I am Grand Duke Gaspard De Chalons, heir to the throne of Orlais.
He rose from his desk and offered her a military style bow.
"May I be the first to officially welcome you to Orlais."
Lyna crossed her arms across her chest.
She expected that this would end with a person of power, but the heir to the throne?
My, my, she thought.
I am moving up in the world.
The Grand Duke rose and offered her his hand.
"I do hope you excuse the rather…harshness of my invitation warden," he continued, "But it was necessary to get you off the street, before your presence drew…much darker attentions."
Lyna was still suspicious, but offered the noble her hand, rather than shaking it, he brought it to his lips, and kissed her knuckle chastely.
She smirked.
If the Grand Duke wanted to play this civilly, fine.
She could do civil.
"Your…invitation was a bit unorthodox, Your Grace," she cooed, "But I suspect that you have your reasons."
"More than you realize," he said, "You have drawn attention warden, dangerous attention…"
The Grand Duke pursed his lips.
"I could not allow you to suffer the same fate as poor Brother Marcelle. You are a fellow warrior after all…
The noble shook his head.
"No warrior deserves to die like that."
Lyna's ears twitched with curiosity.
"I take it that your men did not kill Brother Marcelle?"
The Grand Duke laughed.
"You speak plainly warden," he said, "A rarity here in Orlais."
Lyna bowed her head slightly.
"I meant no offense…"
"None taken," the Grand Duke replied, "It has been a long time since I had the chance to speak with someone so openly. My dear cousin Celene enjoys her games too much to permit such candid debate…"
Gaspard shook his head.
"Under me, the court would have been quite different."
Lyna pursed her lips; she had no desire to get drawn into Orlesian politics. All she wanted now was answers.
Hopefully the Grand Duke would be willing to give her them.
"Given how quickly your men showed up at Brother Marcelle's I'm guessing you were watching him?"
"Indeed," the noble replied.
"May I ask why?"
Gaspard snorted.
"You may indeed," he said, "But first, let us have a drink, talking about such dark things are made less dark with right application of alcohol."
He smiled again.
"May I offer you an Antivan Brandy, or would you prefer Dalish spring wine?"
Lyna's eyes widened.
Where would a shemlen have gotten Dalish spring wine?"
Gaspard seemed to guess what she was thinking.
The noble chuckled.
"An old friend of my commands a small garrison on the Nevarran border. There is a Dalish clan that wanders the woods not far from there. These Dalish are willing to trade with the dwarves who supply the garrison, among their best trade goods is their wine."
His smile widened.
"I take it that you would not mind a glass?"
Lyna's head bobbed in the affirmative.
Still smiling, the Grand Duke poured two glasses.
The Grand Duke finished his in two gulps. Lyna was more careful, she savored the smell of the liquor; let it sit on her tongue, enjoying the sweet taste.
The drink made her shiver.
It had been far too long.
Gaspard returned to his seat, but not before pouring himself a second glass. The noble man stared into the fire; even with his mask Lyna could tell he was troubled.
The Warden's brow furrowed.
Whatever was going on, it was clear that the Grand Duke was not entirely pleased with their meeting.
The noble sighed.
"Tell me warden," he began, "Do you know what he bogeyman is?"
Lyna nodded.
"A human legend," she said, "A monster that preys on unruly children."
"A good a definition as any," the Grand Duke said, "But here in Orlais, it is no mere myth, at least not for one who is close to the royal court.
Gaspard's eyes narrowed.
"The court has been bothered by this particular bogeyman for almost sixty years. He appears and vanishes with little rhyme or reason, but always death follows him."
The Grand Duke gave her a sad smile.
He leaned back in his chair and began to recite:
Beware the Count of Light.
He brings death for any slight
If his path you should cross.
Embrace your fear, and accept that you are lost.
There is nowhere that you can flee.
Across the world, his eyes can see.
You will vanish without a trace.
Evil always keeps its pace.
Beware the Count of Light.
He brings death for any slight.
Gaspard shook his head.
"My mother used to threaten Celene and I with that rhyme when we were young. I used to think it funny, at least until I saw him…the Count of Light."
Lyna's ears twitched.
"Who is this count?"
Gaspard shook his head.
"He is an enigma, warden. He is a monster and a legend all rolled into one. He is Comte Julien Lumiere, former occult advisor to Emperor Florian, and nightmare to many Orlesian children."
The Grand Duke sighed.
"He recently returned to the royal court, after not having been seen in almost six years. I tried to find out why, what could possibly bring the old bogeyman back after all this time.
Gaspard finished his drink.
"Everything my people found, pointed to you," the Grand Duke gave her a sad smile, "When my agents along the border reported that a warden matching your description had crossed, I knew now why the Comte had returned.
The noble shook his head.
"The Count of Light is after you, warden."
"You have my sympathies."