Chapter Seven: Wicked Eyes
A lowly inn on the outskirts of the city of Halamshiral suddenly found itself putting up its No Vacancy sign in the window as the Inquisition descended upon it. This wouldn't be where they spent the night following Empress Celene's grand ball, but it was the best place for the Inquisitor and her advisors and companions to change into the dress uniforms they would wear to the event. Arriving in style, as those already familiar with Orlesian high society knew, was everything, and the Inquisition needed everyone in attendance to stand up and take notice of them.
Already dressed in her red and gold frock coat with the blue sash tied in place, Rosalie made her way to the room where Varric had told her Bull was changing, figuring she'd better check on him in case he was struggling with the whole having to wear a shirt thing.
That, as it turned out, was hardly necessary. She found him already dressed and admiring himself in the mirror. "I feel like the moment I flex, I'll bust every seam and button on this thing," he muttered as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
"Best not to flex then," she replied, tilting her head slightly at the sight of him. He was certainly handsome in red, as strange as it was seeing him all covered up like that. "At least not until later. I know the wait will be hard on both of us," she added with a wistful sigh as she stepped closer.
Bull turned to grin at her. "Sounds like one of our little games, right?" he chuckled. "I think I can handle it." He sank into a courtly bow - one she was certain he'd learned from Vivienne - then straightened. "You look good, boss. Even if I did like that backless gown better."
"That makes two of us," she agreed. "I admit, I was half expecting you to end up with the sash tangled around your horns."
That made him laugh. "Came in here to rescue me, huh, boss? Nice to know you've got my back."
"Always," she answered, looking up at him with a bright smile. And she knew without him even needing to say it that he had hers.
His face softened as he asked, "How're you holding up?"
She couldn't help but sigh. "There's a lot riding on tonight. For me personally, but for Orlais and potentially all of Thedas as well. It's discomfiting to realize that we're all that's standing in the way of total chaos."
"I definitely like it better when we know what we're up against and can just march in and kick its ass," Bull admitted. "For what it's worth, between total chaos and the Inquisitor? Smart money's on the Inquisitor."
That brought a smile to Rosalie's lips. "Thanks, Bull."
The Inquisition rode into the city together early in the evening, using Josephine's idea to have the Inquisitor, her advisors and all of their soldiers parade through the city for all to see and speak of before making their way to the palace.
Rosalie had never been to Halamshiral before. She knew the history, of course. An elven city that had stood for four hundred years before the Exalted March came to reclaim the land for Orlais. She knew the basics of its present as well; that it was the home of Celene's winter palace. That the elves weren't sectioned off in an Alienage, but formed the bulk of its population. Humans were the minority there, though still the upper class, with most choosing to keep to the safety of the city's high quarter. She knew all of that, but wasn't quite prepared for the looks as she and her advisors rode through its streets.
They were greeted with fear and contempt in equal measure by the elves that watched them pass, many of them not brave enough to peek out from behind the curtains of their modest homes. The unease was palpable, it being barely a year since the Empress' soldiers had marched in and burned down the slums to put an end to their rebellion. A year was far from enough for those scars to heal. Rosalie couldn't help but feel relieved knowing their journey would not take them past the burnt husks of buildings left in the wake of such tragedy.
Even here, there was undeniably some interest in seeing the famous Herald of Andraste. Some elven children who had heard the stories ran alongside her horse begging to see the mark on her hand. They squealed with delight before running back to their mothers when she slipped her glove off and let the anchor release a small, harmless burst of green magic.
Still, it was a relief when they eventually passed through the gates into the city's high quarter, where their reception could not have been more different. Carriages had been arriving throughout the day from every part of Orlais as the nobles poured in to attend Celene's grand ball, and this part of the city was abuzz with excitement.
Many attendees were staying with friends and relatives within the city, which meant the streets were crawling with servants rushing out to get whatever was required to keep their sudden influx of guests happy. Halamshiral's fancier taverns were similarly overwhelmed, a disheartening fact to Bull, Varric, and whoever else in their party was hoping to slip away from the festivities once their mission was behind them to see about cards and ale.
The Inquisition, at least, did not have to worry about accommodations. Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons had included suites in the guest wing of the palace as part of his invitation to the Inquisition. That was for later, however. In order to make the grandest entrance possible, they had perfectly timed their arrival to coincide with the beginning of the palace festivities.
"You're sure about this no mask thing?" Rosalie murmured to Leliana once they had both dismounted and handed their horses off to the stable hands.
"Trust me," Leliana replied, her voice just as quiet. "Anyone you know here is used to seeing you with your mask on. They will be too distracted by the sight of a full face to be wondering if your eyes and chin look familiar."
Rosalie nodded, understanding the idea better now. "A bard is most effective hidden in plain sight."
Leliana gave a pleased smile at that. "Exactly."
There was no time to speak further after that. In the next moment Cullen let Rosalie know that her escort was ready, and then it was time to go inside. As she turned to walk away, she felt Leliana grip her hand and squeeze it reassuringly. "You are the Inquisitor. You know how it works here. Command their attention. Earn their admiration. Play the Game, and play it well. I will be at your side as much as I can be," she promised.
It was exactly what Rosalie needed to hear. It wasn't so far from what Mathis would have told her, in fact.
Six soldiers marched ahead of her through the gate, suddenly stepping aside and clasping their hands to their chest to allow their Inquisitor to go on ahead. The display left Gaspard looking suitably impressed. There would be several problems concerning the Grand Duke that Rosalie would need to find answers for that night, and she would need to watch him very closely for those answers.
He was her bard master's patron, which meant they'd met before, albeit only briefly. There was every chance Mathis had let slip that his spy at the conclave and the woman who had risen to the rank of Inquisitor were one and the same - in which case the man before her would have expectations. Even if Mathis had said nothing, there was always the chance Gaspard would recognize her and draw conclusions of his own. As always with those who knew the Game, the trick would be to listen carefully for the clues and hidden meanings. For what the Grand Duke said and didn't say.
"Inquisitor Trevelyan! We meet at last! I've heard so much about you," the man said, his voice more warm and sincere than most at court ever managed to sound. "Bringing the Templars into your ranks was not just a brilliant military move, but a clever political ploy as well. Imagine what the Inquisition could accomplish with the full support of the rightful Emperor of Orlais!"
It was hard not to feel out of her depth against a man who not long ago had almost stolen an Empire out from under his own cousin, not to mention that he had already been a decorated war hero by the time Mathis had found Rosalie and her sister begging on the streets for scraps.
Still, he wouldn't have been pushing his potential usefulness to her quite so firmly if he thought he already had the Inquisitor in his pocket.
"I can see many benefits to such an alliance," she replied. An answer worthy of the Game: flatter your opponent, say nothing that isn't true but give no clue as to which way you truly lean. Her bard master had trained her well, after all.
"Keep the image firmly in mind. We may see it materialize before the end of the evening," the man replied. It was disconcerting how easily the words came to him, considering how life changing that outcome would be for all involved. Of course, the War of the Lions had been going on for over a year, and had been a life or death matter for him and many others since its beginning. That was something Rosalie understood better than most in the Inquisition.
Gaspard went on to warn her about Briala, a former servant of Celene's who had an underground army of elves at her command and every reason to interfere with the peace talks. He went out of his way, in fact, to point out that the elf had motivation to wish Celene harm, a statement that only made Rosalie more suspicious of Gaspard. Still, Leliana had warned her about Briala before they'd even left Skyhold. She'd heard the rumours herself that Briala was a former lover of the Empress. It would be foolish to discount her as an important piece of the puzzle.
Once their conversation was concluded, Gaspard smiled, bowed, and offered out his hand. Together, they linked arms and made their way past the guests who were milling around by the courtyard fountain.
"Is that the Inquisitor?" she heard someone sneer as she passed by.
"What? A Marcher? Don't be absurd!" someone else scoffed dismissively.
Rosalie couldn't help but smile. Some Orlesians were simply far too easy to fool. It remained to be seen if she would get by the Empress so easily.
The announcer bowed as she entered the ballroom, and gestured her to where she ought to stand before he called her name. Flanked by two armoured guards, he stepped forward and unrolled the scroll he was holding. As he raised it up in front of his face, a general hush settled over the gathered crowd.
"And now, presenting: Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons, and accompanying him… Lady Inquisitor Trevelyan. Daughter of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick! Shepherd and leash of the wayward order of Templars, purger of heretics from the ranks of the faithful! Champion of the blessed Andraste herself!"
It was positively surreal to be at court with all eyes upon her, rather than just a pretty face in the background, there only to watch, or perhaps to catch the eye of some mark her master needed her to seduce for information. It was even stranger to hear everything that happened to her since leaving for the conclave summarized so succinctly. They'd made it sound like she'd done it all on purpose, when in Rosalie's mind it was all just things that had happened while she'd somehow managed not to end up dead.
Her best smile fixed so firmly in place it made her jaw ache, Rosalie looked to where the Empress stood above the ballroom and sank into a well-practiced courtly bow. From there, she followed Gaspard on his slow procession towards the Empress.
As someone accustomed to wearing a mask, it was hard not to feel exposed as she felt the stares of everyone upon her. Her expression couldn't waver - even the slightest twitch would be measured for weakness - and she absolutely could not look to the crowd for familiar faces, though she was certain they were out there. Eyes on the Empress, was her mantra with every slow, measured step.
And yet, when that familiar mask came into view; silver and set with sapphires, her gaze couldn't help but flicker towards it, only for the briefest moment. Mathis was watching her, arms folded across his chest. He wore a knowing smile, one that widened ever so slightly when he caught her looking in his direction.
She cursed inwardly at the realization that this was a proud moment for him. And what was worse... knowing he was proud of her still made her feel good.
The meeting with the Empress went about as well as could be expected. There were no slips at any rate, nothing to embarrass the Inquisition as best she could tell. Their problem for the moment was that the Inquisition was an unknown quantity as far as the Game was concerned. Nobody wanted to have an opinion about them yet, since nobody was sure what the general opinion was. Nobody wanted to be the first to be seen interacting with that strange group of people all dressed in red with no masks on their faces.
Winning over as many people as they could would be an important challenge of the evening, and not only if they were to have any hope of foiling a plot that would plunge Orlais into chaos. The fate of the Inquisition itself and its continued success in southern Thedas was also at stake here. If the Inquisition ended up shunned by the court, it would become increasingly difficult to find anyone willing to work with them among the nobility, which in turn would hurt their ability to move troops around as they needed. There was a lot more riding on tonight's outcome than Celene's life.
Protecting Celene was the best thing for Rosalie to focus on for the moment, however, and to that end, she made her way out of the ballroom to where Leliana had asked to meet her for a discussion. Rosalie doubted that her little glance in Mathis' direction had gone unnoticed by someone as adept at the game as the Nightingale, and was expecting a stern reminder of where her loyalties were supposed to lie.
Before she made it as far as her rendezvous, a hand tightly gripped her wrist to tug her back into a storage closet. Before Rosalie knew what was going on, she'd been shoved into a wall and a hand was covering her mouth. She reacted on instinct, letting the mark on her hand suddenly flash a bright green that startled her assailant, allowing her to snatch her hand free and shove them back.
It was only then that the woman who had grabbed her came into focus. The many skirts of her powder blue ball gown seemed to cushion the fall as she stumbled back and landed on her bottom.
"Lila?" she gasped.
"Good to know you haven't forgotten your own sister," she replied, hmphing just a bit as Rosalie helped her to her feet. Then she pushed her mask up to rest on the top of her head, revealing a face that mirrored Rosalie's in all but the subtlest of ways. The hug that followed took Rosalie by surprise, but she returned the embrace just as tightly, having to admit that she was pleased to see her twin in spite of everything that was happening around them.
"Now hurry up and get out of whatever that is so we can swap," Lila said with a grin.
Rosalie blinked in confusion. "Swap?"
Lila nodded. "You need to investigate 'Ambassador' Briala. That means going where you're not supposed to be. The Inquisition needs its leader to be present at the party, however. That's where I come in." She sank into a flourishing bow. "Your decoy."
That made Rosalie sigh wistfully. Certainly that's how she and her sister had always worked together before. The Game was far easier to win for someone who could be two places at once, after all. The problem was, she had no idea where her sister's loyalties lay. She wasn't entirely convinced where hers lay beyond wanting the Inquisition to succeed. Letting someone else, even her own sister, take her place at the party seemed far too reckless.
She didn't need to say so, of course. Lila could read her like a book. "What's wrong? I'm here to help you, ma soeur," she said gently.
"No. You're here because Mathis told you to be," Rosalie answered. "I can't trust you with this, Lila. Not now."
"This is what you have to say to me?" Lila's face fell and she looked… genuinely hurt, an expression that made a stab of guilt slice Rosalie in the chest. "I haven't seen you in months," she continued, "I thought you were dead. It was weeks before word reached us that someone called Trevelyan was the Herald of Andraste. I cried for days, I was so relieved I'd not lost you."
"I'm sorry you went through that," Rosalie murmured quietly. "But I have to do what's best for the Inquisition. I can't just hand over any control I have over this situation to Mathis. His loyalty is to his patron."
"His loyalty is to you. He told me to help you however I could. To give you whatever you needed and to tell you that you have our support no matter what." Lila's eyes began to shine with the threat of tears as she said that, but in the next moment she lowered her mask back into place. "But if you're too important for the likes of your own sister now, so be it. I guess you're on your own instead."
At that, she slipped from the storage room, shutting the door firmly behind her as she left.
Rosalie sagged into the wall behind her and cringed, wishing all of this could be somebody else's problem for a change.