The magister looked up from the letter to observe the man in front of him. Hair slick with oil pasted on his scalp. Rough, plump features. Thick, bushy eyebrows. All moving in a way that betrayed nervousness. Drops of sweat shimmering on his forehead. Hands fidgeting. A pathetic figure.

When the man realized the magister was looking at him, he swallowed audibly. The magister let him sweat a little longer before he finally decided to break the pressing silence.

"Describe the man who gave you this letter," he ordered with a soft, calm voice. The more relaxed you appeared, the more nervous the man in front of you became, he knew.

"Eh... He was an elf," the man squealed. What a ridiculous voice, the magister thought with annoyance. "White hair, big green eyes, large, pointy ears." For an elf? Truly? "And some kind of white scars all over him. On his neck and arms."

"Do you realize this man you claim to work for is actually my property? My missing property?"

"I... I had no idea."

"And why exactly did you decide to help this obscure figure?"

"Well, he... he paid me. I... I needed the coin."

The magister sighed. "What a pity. I am sure I could have rewarded you with a lot more coin, had you chosen to alert me instead of delivering those letters."

"I... I'm sure I would have, had I known..."

"Isn't it your job to know everything worth knowing?"

"I d...do, but not when it c...comes to T... Tevinter."

The magister placed the tips of his fingers against each other. Talking to this man bored him to no end. Fenris must be desperate that he turned to folk like this for help. The lone wolf longed for his pack. Once more the magister's eyes went over the letter. A disapproving sound came over his lips.

"I'm offended. The fool can't even get my name right. "Denarius"! I ask you! And that hopes to best me." The magister shook his grey head. "It boggles the mind. Nevertheless, I have some questions for you, dear man. Mind you, I might already know the answer; I have plenty of spies at my disposal, so consider an attempt at lying most... unwise."

The man with the high voice nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, serah."

Serah? Surely I deserve a higher title... The magister tapped with his right index finger on the letter. "He writes he's had help. From whom? I assume he does not mean you."

"I know that, serah!" A relieved smile spread across the man's face, eager to answer the question to the magister's satisfaction. "I talked to Varric before I returned to Tevinter. Apparently the elf, and Varric too, follow a guy named Hawke. He is the Champion of Kirkwall. There is a big statue of him at the docks. Fancy stuff. With a flaming sword in his hand. Must be a fine warrior."

The Champion of Kirkwall. Interesting. The magister had heard as much, but much of the man remained unknown. A Fereldan, who had risen to nobility in Kirkwall and had defeated the Arishok in single combat. It was no surprise a man like that had found Fenris' abilities useful. And of course Fenris had decided to follow one of the most well-known nobles. His pet was used to the best, although this little Champion would be no match for a magister, flaming sword or not.

"Do you also know why the elf would follow Hawke?"

"Ah... Varric hinted at something between them..." The man's voice faltered as he saw a look of disgust appear on the magister's face. "B...but he didn't give me any details..," he finished weakly.

So that Fereldan filth now has his hands on my little wolf. Disgusting. I will get him back ridden with diseases.

"One last question," the magister said when he had himself under control again. He studied the well-manicured nails of one hand while he spoke. "What shall I do with you now?"

The square jaw of the man dropped a little. His lower lip started trembling. His eyes bulged. It was a sight the magister always enjoyed. It felt good to be the one with the power, and not the weaker person. No one could hurt you when you had enough power. It was the only way to be safe, especially in a land like the Tevinter Imperium.

"I... what d...do you m...mean?" The man licked his lips nervously. "I d...don't understand... I came here willingly when y...your m...men ordered me to. I t...told you everything I know," he squeaked.

The magister shrugged. "What would stop you from warning the elf?"

"I swear I won't! I swear. The knife-ear ain't paying me enough for that."

"So you are willing to work for me instead?"

The man nodded so fast the magister vaguely wondered if his head would come loose and fall off. "Yes, serah!"

The man was a loose end, but he was still needed. He had to deliver Varania's message to Fenris. Making him a blood thrall was probably the safest option, but thralls had the annoying tendency to lose their ability to act naturally. Despite his lack of writing skills, Fenris was no complete fool. If he was confronted with someone completely bound to the magister's will by blood magic, he would probably become suspicious. And the man seemed afraid enough to be reliable in his state of free will...

With a swift movement that was quite supple for a man of his age, the magister rose from his seat. "Excellent," he said. "You're hired. Now, come with me, then you will receive your first job in my employment."

No questions were asked. The man simply followed. Good.

In the foyer, the magister ordered a slave to get the lectica. It did not take long for the vehicle to arrive, carried by four slaves whose broad, muscled arms were tanned by many hours in the strong Tevinter sun. The magister made himself comfortable against the soft purple pillows. "To the mansion of magister Ahriman," he ordered. The slaves moved immediately at the command. The magister's new employee hurried after them.

During the brief journey, the magister mused on the situation. It was almost a decade ago that Fenris had escaped. A decade. And still he had not been caught. The magister had even sent Hadriana after him, and the stupid cow had gotten herself killed! The magister's fists clenched in frustration. He had been the subject of quiet mockery when his most precious slave had escaped and he had failed to capture him again, but after the death of his apprentice he had become the target of open ridicule. What kind of apprentice could not stand against a desperate slave, even one with unique abilities like Fenris'? Hadriana had known what she was up against, and yet she had underestimated her opponent. Always too damn arrogant for her own good, that woman.

One good thing had come of her actions. It had been a smart move to tell Fenris of his sister, one that the magister could use to his advantage. No doubt Hadriana had told the slave to save her own worthless hide, but it was useful nevertheless. Only not for her.

Fenris had cost him far too much already. A large part of his fortune had been poured into the ritual. The small armies of slave hunters had not come cheap either. The ritual and the hunt had cost so much that he could barely even afford another experiment of this caliber. That, and he hated the idea of investing such a huge amount of coin while the previous version was still walking around freely. The magister did not like wasting things. He was no longer in the position to waste things. Years of training had gone to waste in Hadriana... Years of securing his position as a magister suddenly threatened to melt away...

One thing was certain. His ungrateful pet would not continue to escape his grasp for much longer. Soon, he would be returned to his leash. The magister had given Fenris powers no ordinary mortal could ever hope of getting. He had lived the life of the dearest pet, had even received the affection of his master, and what did the wild animal do in return? It turned around to bite the hand that fed and petted him. That was gratitude for you!

The magister's thoughts returned to the present when the lectica came to a halt in front of magister Ahriman's estate. With a quick look over his shoulder the magister assured himself that his employee had kept up with them as he got to his feet, straightened his robes and marched to the front door. A slave opened it for him and announced his arrival. It did not take long for Ahriman to greet him. At least I have not fallen from grace that much.

"Ahriman, dear friend," the magister said, "I am sorry to disturb you."

"Not at all, Danarius. Not at all," the other replied. "What can I do for you?"
"I would like to speak to one of your servants. Varania."

There was glimmer of curiosity in Ahriman's eyes, but he knew better than to pry. "Of course. Pedro here will bring you to her." He gestured at the slave who had opened the door. An Antivan, the magister saw now. Bah. How vulgar. With a straight back and his head raised proudly, the magister followed Pedro the slave through cool corridors. His pride was one of the few things his renegade slave could not destroy and he was determined to remind everybody of this.

Ahriman's estate was not that big, so it did not take long for them to reach their destination. Pedro opened a door made of dark wood that lacked the elaborate decorative carvings that could be found in the more public areas of the mansion. The magister strode past him, the man with the annoying voice still on his heels, and looked down at the red headed woman who was bent in concentration over a pair of silk pajamas. The subtle sound of the magister clearing his throat had her jumping up in surprise. When she saw who her visitor was, she lowered her head. "My lord," she mumbled.

The magister glanced at his servant to see if he had picked up on the title before he turned his attention to the elf in front of him. "Good afternoon, dear girl."

Now there were two ways to approach this: she could be threatened and intimidated into submission, or a more subtle, persuasive method could be used. Quickly the magister decided the second would be favorable. It was better when she distrusted her brother and saw the magister as her ally. It would ensure her loyalty.

"I am here because I require your aid," the magister began. He waited for the woman to look up at him and meet his eyes. Her eyes were the only thing about her that reminded the magister of Fenris. The same deep mossy green gems. Apart from that, they did not look much alike. Her skin was pale, whereas Fenris' had always been a bit darker, something that had contrasted nicely with his markings. Fenris' face was more angular and sharper than the softer, female features. Perhaps the mouth was similar as well... The magister recognized Fenris' rather full lips in this woman, but he felt no desire to experience their hot wetness. The dark color she used to paint her lips did nothing to awaken his desire.

And here my mind is wandering again. After some effort the magister broke off his mental comparisons and focused on the task at hand. Not that it would be difficult to wrap this frail figure around his finger...

"I need your help to catch a dangerous killer. He has escaped years ago from my service and has caused chaos and destruction wherever he went ever since." The magister took on a sad, pained expression. "He has mercilessly butchered many of my men, has even robbed my apprentice of her life, and I have received word he seeks to end me. This man will not stop until his lust for blood has been sated, and it may very well be endless."

The woman's eyes flicked from the magister's face to his robes, the ground, and back to his face. "I don't know such a man, my lord," she said softly.

"Oh, on the contrary. I think you do know this man. In fact, I have a letter from him for you."

Her light skin turned even whiter while the magister revealed a letter from the folds of his robes. She hesitated before she took it. Then she looked up at the magister in doubt.

"Go on, read it," he encouraged her.

Reluctantly, she obeyed. The magister noticed how she bit her lip as she reached the end of the letter.

"I... I told him not to bother me again, my lord. I swear. I wrote him I didn't believe him."

"Is that so?" the magister asked innocently. "And how can I be sure of that? He has written to you again. Perhaps you have promised to help him. Perhaps you two have come up with a plan to assassinate me. You know what the penalty is for an attempt at the life of a magister..."

True fear now twisted her face. "N... no... I... I swear... P...please!"

The magister held up a hand. "Hush. I am not unreasonable. I am sure we can come to an arrangement. Tell me, are you willing to help me catch this dangerous criminal?"

"Y...yes. Of course."

"I am pleased to hear that." The magister pretended to think for a moment. "You have the gift of magic, have you not?"

She nodded, still trembling from fear, her eyes directed at the ground. "Yes, I have."

"Then I have an interesting proposition for you. Since your... brother has murdered my apprentice, I will make you my new apprentice. If you help me to catch Fenris."

The dark green gems grew wide. She even believes it. "I... I don't know what to say..." How about "yes", you goose? "You... your honor me, my lord. This is... I... I would love to... Yes! A hundred times yes!"

The magister stroked his beard. So easy. "I am glad to hear it. Well then, you are going to have to write a reply to him. Tell him you will come to Kirkwall. But not yet. I am occupied elsewhere for the coming year at least..."

"What shall I write then?"

With a hand wave the magister dismissed the question. "Whatever you want. Say you can't leave yet. Say your employer does not want you to go for the time being. I don't care. Propose to exchange letters until you can see him in person. Try to find out as much as possible. I am particularly interested in his new master, the Champion of Kirkwall. See if you can get information about him. I will arrange passage and will let you know when we depart. As I said, it will at least take a year before I have solved my other business."

"Yes, my lord." She nodded that she had understood. "My lord? So it is true then? He is my brother?"

"Yes," the magister said. His eyebrows lowered. "Is that a problem?"

A flicker of doubt was quickly put out, replaced by a cold look of grim determination. Interesting. She may have more potential than I would have guessed. "No," she said. "It is not. That man you describe... that is not Leto. He is not my brother. He has stopped being that a long time ago."

Satisfied with the way things had played out, the magister turned to the man with the high-pitched voice. "I assume you already understand what is expected of you. You will deliver the letters that will be exchanged in the future, as long as Fenris asks you to. Do not in any way warn him or raise his suspicions, or you will be sorry for the rest of your very short life. My patience is at an end. Everyone who opposes me, will be dealt with without mercy. Have I made myself clear?"

The man nodded vehemently. "Yes, se... my lord. Understood."

"Good. Then you two know what you have to do."

"Yes, my lord," the human man and elven woman replied simultaneously.

The magister turned on his heels and walked with brisk steps back to the exit. The trap would be successful, he was certain of that. Predictable little Fenris would not be able to resist the chance to meet his dear sister. It was surprising how easy it was to let the common people do what you desired. Many of his colleagues had grown lazy and simply turned to blood magic to bend people's will to their wishes, but Danarius knew how some simple manipulations could be just as effective. And they were more amusing as well.

Fenris had made him look like a fool, and he would put an end to it now. Where all others had failed, he would succeed. If you wanted something done, you had to do it yourself, that much he had learned. He would stabilize his position and live the rest of his life the way he deserved after all his hard work. If he survived his year on Seheron... The senate had ordered him to go to their armies in the north to fight against those cursed horned monsters. Ordered him! If there was a sign your power was diminishing alarmingly, then that was it. Being thrown to the Qunari.

But he would not be defeated. They would see how he forced things to go his way again after a decade of failure. One more year, and he would have Fenris on his knees before him again. He would crush that little Champion of Kirkwall and his flaming sword under the eyes of his pet before he dragged him back to Minrathous and taught him obedience once more.

A smile played around the magister's lips as he seated himself in the lectica and ordered the slaves to return home.