"So, Maric, tell me: how does one go about finding an ancient relic of Arlathan curiously hidden in the bowels of Antiva, and exactly what is entailed in the process of 'activating' it?"
"Ugh, don't say 'bowels,'" Maric said, with a hand on his stomach. "That pot pie is coming back to haunt me."
"Told you. Regardless of intestinal discomfort, please answer my questions."
"Well, first we have to locate the mirror itself - "
Loghain poked Maric in the chest. "Wait a minute - you said you already knew where the bloody thing is."
"I do! I do! In a…general sense. I know it's within a hundred square miles of Antiva City. The specifics I'm still a little bit vague on, however."
"Andraste's tits. A hundred square miles? And presumably the damned thing is well-hidden or people would know about it. How exactly are we supposed to find it?"
"Ah, and there's the beauty of it, my friend," Maric said, with a broad smile. "We find it…by looking for it."
Loghain paused, then sighed and shook his head. "That was a staggeringly brilliant observation, Maric."
"Our first order of business is to set up a base of operations. That means lodgings," Maric said.
"I know what it means, Maric. Where have you been staying, all this time?" Loghain asked.
"In a flea-ridden inn by the docks, so that I could stand there in the dark and damp night after night, hoping my best friend would come and relieve me of my lonely watch."
"Hey, I'm here, aren't I? Now where do we hole up?"
"I've done some checking around and I've found a lodgings house that's almost dead-center in our search area; it would make a perfect home base. There is a catch, however; just a small, miniscule obstacle we shall overcome easily enough, with a bit of application."
"Oh, really? And just what is this small, miniscule catch?" Loghain asked.
"It's a ladies' boarding house."
"What?"
"It's no great issue, Loghain. We'll just curl our hair out, put on some cosmetics, and stuff you in a nice satin gown. Easy."
"Not if your life depended on it, Maric, and believe me, if you insist upon making the attempt, it does."
Maric laughed. "Relax, my friend, I'm only teasing. I put the old Theirin charm on the woman that runs the place. The Duenna, they call her. Formidable woman. Knows things no lady ought to know. She'll let us stay."
"'The Old Theirin Charm,' eh? I knew it. We're bloody screwed. Well, no matter what you say or do, I'm not wearing a fucking dress."
Despite Loghain's lapse of faith, the old Theirin charm appeared to have some use after all. The Duenna, a large, voluptuous woman with an astonishing head of black hair piled high and held with silver combs, dimpled up like a schoolgirl when she saw Maric, and burst forth with a rapid-fire assault of Antivan. Finally she dropped the native tongue and continued on in Common:
"Mario! How lovely to see you again, my darling boy. And you friend has arrived, I see. That is wonderful. There is always room for another big, strong, handsome Fereldano barbarian under my roof!"
Loghain smacked Maric on the arm with the back of his hand. "You told her you were a bloody Antivan, didn't you? If she calls me Luigi, I'm out of here. Just so you know."
Maric blushed and grinned. "Well, big and strong he's got covered, but I'll have to supply the handsome, Duenna. I apologize for the façade, before: just a bit of a lark, practicing my Antivan, you know. My name is Maric, actually, and my friend's name is Loghain."
"Oh, no harm, my darling boy. I knew all along you were being only s, how you say, 'silly arse?' I found you little charade quite charming. But Maric and Loghain, those are two very famous Fereldan names, yes? The girls shall be thrilled to hear we harbor two so august barbarians," she said, and laughed as though it were the best joke of the season. "I will just go and see that you room is ready. Don't go bothering my girls, now, you rogues!"
Maric led Loghain into what could possibly be termed a "parlor." A score of young ladies, scantily attired, lounged about in sumptuous splendor on couches and in chairs. Loghain glanced at them, then back to his friend.
"Maric, when you told me this was a boarding facility for young professional women, did you perhaps deliberately leave off telling me just what profession the young women were members of?"
"Why, whatever do you mean to insinuate, Loghain?" Maric asked, with much innocent fluttering of his eyelashes.
"This is a whorehouse, isn't it?"
"It may be true that the ladies of the house are open to certain activities which, in Fereldan, a proper lady of standing would be adverse to, but it's not quite the same as a Ferelden brothel."
"Explain to me the difference. You give these ladies coin, they open their legs, correct?"
Maric clucked his tongue, eyes closed. "You are so crude. The difference, my friend, is that these ladies are perfectly free to say 'no' when it pleases them. They are also perfectly free, Loghain, to say 'yes,' even when no coin has been exchanged. And these ladies, Loghain, are positively delightful creatures."
Loghain sighed and rolled his eyes at the King's naïveté but chose not to remark on it. "Maric, you are such a horn-dog."
"You could stand a little distraction, my friend. Celia has been gone now for some time, and you've shown no interest in finding another companion. You can't go through life alone and miserable, Loghain, though I know you'd like to. Perhaps one of these ladies can reignite the spark of life in you, make you realize how unhealthy it is to deny yourself expression of your natural desires."
"Yes, the expression of which has garnered you one bastard son that I am aware of. I shudder to think how many dim-witted blonds are running loose in Thedas thanks to your natural desires, Maric."
"Oh, ease up. You know, one thing I find odd…I was certain that if we followed your plan of giving our true names, our identities would be known instantly. But she only laughed."
"We're dressed as peasants, Maric. People who've known you for twenty years might well look at you now and not know you for the King of Fereldan."
The Duenna came back, and sidled up to Maric. She pressed herself close against his arm and slid a hand across the breadth of his chest. "Your room has been made ready, Maric, my darling boy, but of course you are welcome to stay this night in my room, if you prefer."
"A courteous guest never passes up a lady's hospitality," Maric said, and permitted the vamp to lead him away. Loghain stood shaking his head after him in the entryway to the parlor.
"We haven't been here five minutes and he's in a woman's bed. And that one looks like she'll eat him alive."
He realized suddenly that he was muttering to himself in front of twenty or so interested prostitutes. When he saw the way they looked at him he began to feel very much like a mouse in a room full of cats.
"Fereldano muy grande," one of the ladies said, with a little titter.
Another lady sidled up to him. She was young, probably barely of age, and looked a trifle shy, though doubtless that was simply an act used to appeal to those looking to bespoil innocence. "I will show you to your room, if you wish," she said, in a soft, musical voice.
"And I will show you to mine, if you prefer, hombre," another, bawdier lady said.
Loghain backed away quickly. In turning, he slammed face-first into a hat stand. "Excuse me, I…I'll just go to my room, now," he said, and hoped he didn't look quite as great a fool as he felt.