The port city of Jader gleamed like a brilliant pearl in the sun. The day was balmy and blessed with clear skies, carrying the salt smell of the harbor on the wind. Gulls cried overhead and people milled about, calling out to one another in their lyrical voices. It was as lively and bouyant as the waves dancing upon the Waking Sea.
Eastern jewel of the Empire, it was called. And rightly so – towering in the distance were impeccable specimens of some of the most striking architecture Ahnnie had ever seen. They were whirling and fanciful, constructed to reflect the sea so close to where they were built. But they were also distant, separated from her by the more common streets and alleyways. She could only admire them as one reveres an elevated monarch seated on a high throne.
After arriving at the gates of Jader, their group was quickly harried through the winding streets and down to the docks, leaving little time to stop and admire the finer points of the city. At first, she was able to catch a glimpse of a gilded carriage or a masked figure here and there, but the closer they came to the harbor (the rougher side, at that), the less she saw of those strange masked Orlesians she had heard so much about. The common populace went unmasked and seemed indistinguishable to her from the Fereldens, but for their rosier and more sunkist complexions.
Regardless, Ahnnie enjoyed being in the city very much. It was a welcome change from the cold mountain roads, which had taken them almost twelve days to pass because of rough weather – two days behind schedule! – and the merry call of the seagulls, coupled with the tolling of ship's bells and foreign voices, filled her with a sense of adventure.
"It is done," Cassandra called to their little group, consisting of Ahnnie, Blackwall, Solas, and Josephine. Varric could not come for his own personal reasons. Ahnnie was a little disappointed, but understanding. "We are to come aboard."
The followed obediently up to the side of a sturdy wooden vessel, one of the many moored at the docks complete with sails and all that jazz, where a gangplank was laid for them. One by one they walked up the gangplank, Ahnnie coming in next to last before Cassandra, and once they were all aboard, the gangplank was stowed away and the ship lurched to action a few minutes later.
Ahnnie headed over to the rails on the port side while Cassandra and Josephine spoke with the captain. She watched the city of Jader as it slowly fell away, bobbing up and down in time to the ship's movement, as if it too were set adrift in the waters.
The soldiers Cullen sent with them would be traveling on a different ship and were set to meet up with them at the capital's docks. She rested her elbows on the wooden railing and allowed herself to be content with that fact, looking forward to when they could reunite in Val Royeaux.
This trip, just like the previous one, was filled with new experiences.
First, she had left Haven in the company of some twenty people. It was a new sensation, traveling with so many people at once. Though the soldiers were just a small regiment, it felt like going on a trip with half the population of Haven. So it must seem after many days of sharing campfires with one another, as well as private space and animals and roads.
And it was amusing to watch Lady Josephine travel, in particular. The Inquisition ambassador had draped herself with thick cloaks and furs as they traversed through the mountains, drawing them closer at every small breeze, and was rather insistent that she not have to bed down for the night so close to their mounts. She disliked their smell and found it unsanitary to do so. The result was that she was often the last one ready for the next day's march, not counting the minute examinations of her hands and other limbs upon waking for signs of the frostbite that she so dreaded.
Then Ahnnie was aboard a sea vessel, sailing for longer than a day, and temporarily prey to seasickness. The waters were mostly smooth, giving her little cause in actuality to be uncomfortable. The ship wasn't a stinking hellhole of claustrophobia, either. But when it came to the bathroom arrangements, Ahnnie should have known better than to expect anything like the crisp and clean cruise liner bathrooms. Instead, there was only one latrine situated in the head of the ship, shared by all. The pitching of the waves seemed to increase the ever present swirling in her stomach as a result, and she was confined to her cabin for a better part of the first day.
By the half of the second day, the sailors finally sighted Val Royeaux. Ahnnie had mostly recovered by then and stood with the others on deck to watch as they neared the fabled capital city. Two great statues of marble, each depicting a woman in a flowing dress reaching out a hand in the direction of the city, graced the entryway into the harbor. The docks, teeming with colorful merchant ships and small boats very much like canopied gondolas, beckoned to them with a long strip of white stone leading up to equally white walls.
It was there they disembarked and rejoined their soldiers. Coming together in a nice formation, they marched on foot toward the gates leading into the Summer Bazaar.
Ahnnie's head went this way and that as she took in the city around her, gilded baroque structures of white stone, stately and majestic, sporting primary colors such as rich blues, deep reds, and shimmering gold-yellows. The people were like complements to their background, their clothes a riot of color and their masks – a half mask there, a full mask here, almost everyone's faces covered in masks! It was like being at a Venetian festival.
Albeit, a festival with no sense of festivity in the air.
Though the Orlesians (or, as the citizens of Val Royeaux liked to call themselves, the Royans) around them milled about at leisurely paces, something seemed tense in their gait. It was not immediately noticeable until Ahnnie saw a masked young woman look at their party, pause, and continue on her way with stinted, uncertain steps. Several others followed her example, casting suspicious and shadowed glances at their advance.
"The city still mourns," Cassandra said from ahead of her, "and apparently recognizes us."
A shame, Ahnnie thought. Val Royeaux looks like a nice place to be. In fact, it had appeared in her imagination as much more vibrant than Jader.
To counter the mood, Blackwall made some observations of his own. "Val Royeaux, huh? I remember the first time I visited it, some thirty years ago. The market was not half as large, without the garish statues. And far fewer stands selling those ridiculous frilly little cakes." He looked pointedly at such a stand, displaying little pastries decorated in frilly icing.
"A lot changes in thirty years," Ahnnie remarked, looking in response at that same stand. The pastries looked delicious. "It must be nice to come back and see how it all went."
"Indeed. I hardly know I'm standing in the same city."
"The Val Royeaux market was once nothing but tents of oiled leather and mud," Solas put in from behind them, and they turned their attention to the elf. "Filled with ragged humans selling strings of beads made of bone."
Blackwall raised an eyebrow. "You saw this in the Fade?" The Warden was aware of Solas' Fade walking abilities by now. If it put him off, he didn't show it.
"Yes. I left that memory quickly. The smell..."
"Must have been ages ago."
"Oh, yes. It's much better now." Solas smiled. "I enjoy the frilly cakes."
Just as they came to the soaring archway preceding the walkway that led into the Bazaar, a young woman in the familiar green hooded mantle of the Inquisition forces intercepted them. "My lady Herald," she greeted Ahnnie, and bent down to kneel on one knee.
Where Ahnnie was confused to see another of the Inquisition in the city but not in their party, Cassandra was not. "You're one of Leliana's people," the Seeker recognized. "What have you found?"
"The Chantry Mothers await you," she informed them, "but so do a great many templars."
Cassandra sounded surprised. "There are templars here?" she asked.
The scout's face reflected the discomfort of the news she was bound to deliver. "People seem to think the templars will protect them from...from the Inquisition," she gave out at last.
At this, Ahnnie exchanged glances with Blackwall and Solas. Her eyes next went to Josephine, whose face seemed pensive.
"They're gathering on the other side of the market," the scout continued. "I think that's where the templars intend to meet you." She then rose, having finished her report.
Ahnnie immediately looked up to the Seeker for guidance; so natural was this instinct that she didn't even remember turning her head. Cassandra did not return the gaze, and her face appeared even more hardened than it usually was. "Only one thing to do, then," she declared, and ordered them to continue on into the Bazaar.
"They wish to protect the people," Cassandra murmured under her breath. "From us!" She shook her head, her consternation all too clear in the tone of her voice.
Ahnnie looked up at the taller woman, wishing she could say something to make the situation seem better. "Maybe they misunderstood when they heard we were bringing soldiers."
"Enough to act as an envoy guard, not to invade their city," Cassandra reminded her.
Silence fell between them and Ahnnie looked elsewhere to distract herself. The fated market square loomed closer with every step; she felt doomed.
"You think the Order's returned to the fold to deal with us?" Blackwall then asked. At the beginning of the Mage-Templar war, the Seekers issued that neither they nor the templars would recognize Chantry authority, thereby nullifying their part of the Nevarran Accord.
Cassandra shook her head. "I know Lord Seeker Lucius. I can't imagine him coming to the Chantry's defense, not after all that's occurred."
They said no more on the subject as they finally emerged into the Bazaar. The Bazaar itself was arranged in a ring-like fashion around a squat blue tower, red ribbon-like stretches of cloth emanating from the tower roof to the eaves of the higher buildings around it so that they cast a circle of long rectangular shadows on the marketplace below. Ahnnie could not find the time to marvel at its beauty, for the marketplace was eerily quiet; unlike the earlier streets, no one was strolling here, and only a few masked people stood clustered in their own little circles.
"The Inquisition is here, along with the 'Herald of Andraste'," one of them whispered as the party went by. The Orlesian accent was heavy in his voice; Ahnnie did not miss the fact that he used Common to speak in lieu of his native tongue.
"They say they found the otherworlder covered in the Divine's blood," one of his fellows joined in.
Another spat with indignance onto the paved ground below. "Let her pass; the Inquisition is the templars' problem. And they'll fix it."
Like a bad omen, a gallows stood not too far to the left of those Orlesians, which the Inquisition had to pass by as they walked. It was more likely a long-time fixture of the Bazaar, serving its purpose for public hangings whenever they occurred, but Ahnnie felt sick looking at the empty noose swaying in the breeze. She tried not to pay it too much attention as she followed the others towards the murmuring of a gathering crowd.
"Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!"
The thin, rasping voice of a middle-aged Chantry Mother carried down from a wooden platform set up against the eastern end of the Bazaar, ringing with conviction like a preacher to a congregation. The audience, masked and unmasked Orlesians alike, listened to her every word with reverently bowed heads. She was flanked on both sides by two Chantry sisters and guarded about the platform with templars.
"Together we mourn our Divine. Her naive and beautiful heart, silenced by treachery." She read these words like a poet, her voice winding down to a soft note as she spoke the of the Divine. Her eyes and hand notably gestured at the Inquisition party as they approached, zeroing in on Ahnnie in particular and giving the effect that she was speaking directly to the girl. "You wonder what will become of her murderer...well, wonder no more. Behold, the so-called Herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell! We say this is a false prophet – no servant of anything beyond her own selfish greed!"
Just like that, the Chantry Mother's voice turned sharp and accusatory. The once silent crowd suddenly rippled with murmurs as they turned to stare at the blasphemous Inquisition; ripples that grew, and grew, until it was a wave of dissent.
Ahnnie felt a mixture of anger, disbelief, and discomfort as the audience turned on them. Had there been no soldiers, her group would surely have been overtaken by the angry crowd by now. This is what Leliana was talking about, she thought. This is what she warned me of. In the midst of it the speaking Chantry Mother's eyes bore down on her, so full of hatred for someone she hadn't set eyes on until now. Such a stark comparison to the warm and kindly Mother Giselle.
Ahnnie felt a tug on her sleeve. "Say something," Josephine's voice whispered to her through the chaos.
But what? She wished Josephine could give her the words, but knew this was something she had to do herself. Finding a break in the crowd's protestations, she steeled herself against their barbed words and cried, "It doesn't matter who the Herald of Andraste is!" A little pause, in which she noted the desperation in her voice, and then adjusted it. "And bickering about who killed the Divine isn't going to do anything. I sure didn't, but I'm not here for a trial. I'm here to talk."
"It's true," Cassandra jumped in, seizing the opportunity. "The Inquisition only seeks to end this madness before it is too late!"
Clinking metal sounded beyond the crowd to the platform's left. It fell and rose in unison in an almost military pattern. Upon hearing it, the Chantry Mother's face turned smug. "It is already too late," she corrected them, pointing in that direction.
They turned and saw a group of heavily armored men stepping up to the platform, breastplates emblazoned with the symbol of the Seekers. At their head was a pale man with dark, slicked back hair, his eyes stony and grim.
The Chantry Mother stepped aside as the men took up space on the platform. "The templars have returned to the Chantry!" she cried in exultation. "They will face the 'Inquisition', and the people will be safe once more!"
She seemed pleased with herself as she watched the Seekers gather about her. And then the nearest one threw a swinging punch at the base between her skull and neck, knocking her out cold.
What the fuck!? Ahnnie, along with the audience, gave out gasps of horror; the Chantry sisters screamed. Meanwhile, the templars continued to stand guard, seemingly oblivious to the events behind and in front of them.
Ahnnie didn't notice that she hadn't blinked until her eyes stung. Did that guy really just...!? Coming back to her senses, she pushed through the Inquisition soldiers and Orlesians, rushing up to the platform to check on the fallen Mother. She went down on her knees so that the platform floor was level with her face, and peered anxiously into the slack visage of the Mother. "Are you all right? Hello? Can you hear me? Mother Hevara?" For she had heard the panicked sisters scream out that name. But no amount of calling or shaking seemed to wake the unconscious Mother up.
Feeling a surge of anger, Ahnnie glared up at the burly Seekers. "How could you!? That was completely unnecessary! She couldn't have done anything to you!"
"And it would have been acceptable if she could?" the dark haired Seeker countered before walking down the platform. He held Ahnnie's eyes in a passing glance, and she saw nothing but contempt emanate from his stony orbs. Behind him, a dark skinned templar gazed uncomfortably at Mother Hevara's prone figure before following the Seeker.
Cassandra started up in his direction. "Lord Seeker Lucius, it's imperative that we speak with–"
"You will not address me," he interrupted coldly as he came off the last step.
Cassandra did not immediately respond, pausing for a moment to watch him lead the other Seekers and templars away. "Lord Seeker?" she then inquired.
Lucius paused in his tracks, slowly turning to face them. "Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste's prophet – you should be ashamed."
It didn't occur to Ahnnie that this Seeker was Cassandra's superior until now. Shooed away by the sisters from Mother Hevara after they recovered from their shock, she had no choice but to return to the group and watch this unpleasant exchange.
"You should all be ashamed!" Lucius snarled. "The templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages! You are the ones who have failed. You, who'd leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear!" An accusatory finger was levied against them all. "If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is mine."
"Then why are you here?" Ahnnie asked. Her voice still shook from her previous anger. "If it's not to help the Chantry, then what did you come for?"
Lucius' eyes locked with hers again. His lips curved into a sadistic, contemptuous smile. "I came to see what frightens old women so, and to laugh," was his chilling answer.
The dark skinned templar suddenly intercepted him. "But Lord Seeker," the templar began, "what if she really was sent by the Maker? What if–"
"You are called to a higher purpose," Lucius snapped. "Do not question!" To the Inquisition, he vowed, "I will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the void. We deserve recognition. Independence! You have shown me nothing," he reproached Ahnnie, "and the Inquisition...less than nothing." Turning to his men, he barked, "Templars! Val Royeaux is no longer worthy of our protection. We march!"
In a cold, orderly fashion, the men followed the Lord Seeker out of the Bazaar. The bewildered audience quickly made way for them, drawing back as far as they could as if they feared to receive Mother Hevara's rough treatment if they stood too close. The eastern side of the Bazaar became a buzz of murmurs and whispers as soon as the men were gone. In their nervous excitement, the people forgot about the Inquisition, although they still kept their distance.
"A charming reception," Solas remarked dryly.
"Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?" Cassandra asked no one in particular.
Ahnnie frowned. "Did you know him well, Cassandra? Was he usually like this?"
"He took over the Seekers of Truth two years ago, after Lord Seeker Lambert's death," Cassandra explained. "He was always a decent man, never given to ambition and grandstanding...so no, he was not always like this. This is very bizarre."
Blackwall sighed and crossed his arms. "I guess that means the Inquisition won't be receiving any help from the templars, then."
"Fortunately, they are not our only hope," Josephine put in. "For every group that speaks against us, there will always be those willing to listen."
That was true. The people of Haven and the Hinterlands held them in positive regard; who knew if there might be more?
"I wouldn't write the templars off so quickly," Cassandra forewarned. "There must be those in the Order who see what he's become."
Ahnnie perked up as she remembered one such person. "That templar, earlier. He had his doubts."
"Exactly," Cassandra nodded. "He is probably not the only one, either."
But he was also quickly suppressed, Ahnnie reminded herself, and felt deflated again. I wonder if that doubt is enough to persuade him? With a plaintive sigh, she looked back at the platform where Mother Hevara was lying. The Mother had regained consciousness and was sitting up, nursing an ache in the side she fell on. When Ahnnie told Cassandra the Mother had recovered, she signaled the group to return to the platform; the crowd around them had more or less dispersed by then, facilitating their passage.
Mother Hevara noticed their approached and narrowed her eyes at them. "This victory must please you greatly, Seeker Cassandra," she ground out.
"We came here seeking only to speak with the Mothers," Cassandra replied evenly. "This is not our doing, but yours."
"And you had no part in forcing our hand?" The Mother chuckled dryly. "Do not delude yourself! Now we have been shown up by our own templars, in front of everyone. And my fellow clerics have scattered with the wind, along with their convictions..." She suddenly winced as pain lanced her through the side and clutched it harder.
Ahnnie pursed her lips, wondering if it was okay to ask after her. But since she had taken quite a few liberties in speaking today, she decided to do it anyway. "Are you all right, Mother Hevara?" the girl asked timidly.
The Mother squinted uncertainly at her. "I am fine," she eventually spat out. "Just tell me one thing."
"Yes?"
"Do you truly believe you are the Maker's chosen?"
Ahnnie blinked, taken aback by the question. "N-no," she stammered. "I don't think that at all...Why do you ask?"
Mother Hevara grimaced and shook her head. "That is...more comforting than you might imagine. I suppose it is out of our hands now...We shall all see what the Maker plans in the days to come. Oh!" At her sharp gasp, the Chantry sisters hovered closer to her and began, delicately, to pull her to her feet. "Not so quickly," she pleaded as they led her off the platform.
"Wait," Ahnnie called after them, but Cassandra held her back with a restraining hand.
"Let them go," said the Seeker. "There is no more we can ask of them now."
"Okay," the girl conceded with a sigh. Turning back to the group, she asked, "So what do we do now?"
"We are obviously not going to leave things unfinished with the Chantry," Josephine began. "Our next step should be to give them some time before approaching them again. Let today's events sink in; Lord Seeker Lucius' actions will be the talk of the city, and in their shock, the Chantry will overlook their condemnation of us. It is but a limited moment, however, so we must move quickly to sway the clerics still denouncing you before it wears off."
"Exactly how soon should we do this?" Ahnnie asked. She was hoping some of this swaying could take place even after she returned to Haven; she had no desire to meet with angry Chantry Mothers face-to-face again.
"Preferably before the next Divine Election begins." Josephine shrugged. "It will be a continuous process, but I suggest we start at the prescribed time for it to have the right effect."
"For now, I suggest we find a place to spend the night," Solas interjected. "It wouldn't do to be stranded in this city."
Josephine smiled. "Of course. Let me handle the arrangements."
The small Inquisition regiment then took their leave of the Bazaar as Josephine led the way to where she believed good lodgings could be found. As they passed beneath the graceful arches leading in and out of the circular marketplace, Ahnnie paused when her back prickled with the sensation of being watched. She slowly turned to see what it was, but saw nothing of import except for some masked Orlesians. Shaking her head, she resumed her pace and welcomed the chance to put the Bazaar behind her.
Lodgings for the night consisted of plain rooms in a quaint little inn. L'auberge de Licorne, it was called – The Unicorn Inn. Despite the pretty name, the inn was largely nondescript and served a middling clientele. The Inquisition couldn't afford to waste its current resources on anything grander, and even if it could, the larger hotels would have refused to lodge them anyway. L'auberge de Licorne, seeing a business opportunity in the Herald's fairly sized party, put economics before religious views and eagerly let out its rooms to them.
To save some of the cost, Ahnnie roomed together with Josephine and Cassandra. There was a pair of twin beds which two of them would have to share when night came. Ahnnie felt slightly relieved when it was decided that it would be the two older women; she liked them, but not enough to share that much space with either one of them. Other such arrangements were made between the others and the soldiers, since the inn would have run out of room otherwise.
In the evening a modest supper was laid out for them in the little dining area by the lobby, presided over by the innkeeper's chittery wife. "Have a seat, have a seat, mes chers invités! Please, make yourself at home! Ah, here comes the food – don't forget to blow, it is hot! Bon appetit!" As they ate, she continued to hover over them, watching their movements like a hawk and inquiring sweetly after them every few minutes.
She was mightily pleased with the tips some soldiers left behind when they were done. Ahnnie had the feeling that if they kept it up, the woman would happily kick out the other guests and rent the entire inn to the Inquisition, regardless of what the Chantry thought.
Some people, she thought in amusement as she shook her head.
Rather than languish in boredom in their little room after supper, Ahnnie decided to get some fresh Orlesian air to settle the food in her stomach. She was inspired by the idea after seeing some Inquisition soldiers leave the inn for a stroll. If they could do it, why couldn't she? Besides, Josephine was reading a book by the lobby fireplace, and Cassandra was somewhere else, perhaps even out on a walk as well. They wouldn't miss her.
She felt a secret sort of thrill as she slipped out the inn's door and made her way down the quiet street. Her back and hip moved freely without the weight of her glaive-guisarme and short sword, adding to the sense of freedom that enveloped her like the warm night air. It felt good to be alone, with nothing but the soft city lights illuminating her cobblestoned way and her thoughts to keep her company. She would be sure to stick close to the inn, but at the moment felt charmed and allured by the Orlesian capital city; the stately buildings, with their ornate facades and windows, lost much of the hostile edge she had associated with them during the daytime (no thanks to Mother Hevara). Soft music wavering in the distance reminded her of the sprightly French tunes one would hear if one ate out at a French restaurant or listened to French music.
Mom likes listening to French music, she remembered.
She stopped by a lamp post to wait as a gilded carriage, transporting four fancily dressed and masked personages, clip-clopped through the street she wanted to cross. Her eyes followed the carriage until it was nothing but a sparkling speck in the lamplight, vanishing into nothing like a wispy dream. What an enchanting place Val Royeaux was! She could almost swear she had stepped into the pages of a fairy tale world.
Ahnnie turned her head back around to begin the crossing. What other wonders awaited her down the next block? The question filled her with curiosity and excitement, but all that fled a moment later when a thin, elongated shadow suddenly pierced the air before her. She jumped like a startled cat and gave a slight yelp, despite not having been hit.
"An arrow!" Ahnnie whispered when she registered what the object was. The arrow was lodged upright in the cobblestones two feet away from her, slanting at a slight angle. Did someone try to shoot me? She whirled around, looking left, right, up, but saw nothing amiss in the lamplit city around her. Finally, she turned back around to face the arrow. It was then she noticed the folded piece of paper pinned beneath the arrowhead.
Frowning, she reached out and plucked the arrow out of the stones. She dropped it after taking hold of the paper, which she now slowly unfolded, half expecting another heart-stopping surprise to jump out at her.
What the paper contained was a surprise in its own way, even if it wasn't heart-stopping. It was a message scrawled in a large, flowing hand, and the perimeter of the paper was bordered by funny doodles; below the writing was a poorly drawn map of the Summer Bazaar that Ahnnie mistook at first for a crooked key. Three spots on the key were marked with red ink. As for the message itself:
People say you're special. I want to help, and I can bring everyone.
There's a baddie in Val Royeaux. I hear he wants to hurt you. Have a search for red things in the market, the docks, and 'round the cafe, and maybe you'll meet him first. Bring swords.
-Friends of Red Jenny