And the search continues... Varric experiences his finest hour and he doesn't even realises it and Fenris becomes desperate.

Enjoy!

A Wild-Goose Carol part three

Vidar Harlan was, if possible, even more unpleasantly surprised than Fergon Bhelarson had already been. Especially because he was caught in the act, so to speak. He was having a very enjoyable time with a girl he had ordered from the Blooming Rose, the establishment he owned, after all. Enjoyable, that was, up until the moment a mass of dwarves came invading his bedroom. His very private bedroom. The girl he was with squeaked in panic and fled the bed to take refuge in a large cupboard.

(Only much later, when she deemed it safe again, she sneaked out of the place to turn home. With a quite interesting story. And, to her astonishment, with a little pouch filled with golden coins that was pushed into her hands when she left the premises. She was highly surprised but, then again, it was First Day. Anything could happen.)

'What is the meaning of this?' the Head of the Coterie demanded to know with all the dignity he could muster, which wasn't easy for a man dressed only in his bare skin.

Fenris considered it unnecessary to use his "talent" this time. Obviously the man was suffering enough as it was.

Like right now Harlan was staring into the face of a notorious deviously dwarf. 'I notice you're inspecting the merchandise. Always good to see a man who's taking his job seriously,' the dwarf commented deadpan. And everyone knew he was most dangerous at those times.

The Head of the Coterie drew himself up while he attempted to cover his naked body with a bedspread. 'What the hell are you doing here?' he barked irritably.

Not moments earlier the men who guarded the entrance to the building had asked the same question, just before they discovered they weren't able to stop the swarm of dwarves that out of the sudden flooded the headquarters in the Docks.

'I'll make it brief because I can see you're a busy man,' Varric said carelessly, 'just a simple inquiry.' He paused a few moments for the effect. 'Where is the Champion?' There was no way he could have made a mere question sound more ominous, but Vidar Harlan acted unimpressed. He just scowled at him.

'And how the fuck am I suppose to know?!'

Varric caressed his beloved crossbow in a deceivingly casual way. It didn't escape the Head of the Coterie but he pretended not to notice. 'Because I know that you know about everything that's going on in this city.'

'I was under the impression you were the all-knowing one,' Harlan bit back. The dwarf's reputation was not only famous among the Merchant Guild and the Carta.

'That might be,' Varric nodded, assenting, 'but I don't bear a grudge against the Champion.'

'And what makes you think I do.'

'She has thwarted you more than once,' Varric replied, smiling at the memory.

'Ah yes,' mused Isabela, standing next to him, 'good times. Such good times.'

'What the lady means,' Varric explained (Harlan winced at the word "lady"), 'is that we wouldn't put it past you that you finally decided to give her a payback. So, tell me. Where is she.' This time it sounded like no question at all. This time it sounded like an outright threat. But still Harlan didn't budge.

Fenris had to admit he admired the man. Harlan might be the leader of one of the two biggest criminal cartels in Kirkwall, right now he was surrounded by enemies while sitting naked in his bed and he couldn't make an appeal on his men. But even so, he showed no fear whatsoever. Of course it was bluff, but first-rated bluff. Extraordinary.

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' he said haughtily. He looked and sounded convincing, at any rate convincing enough to persuade Varric.

The Top-side Paragon tapped his fingers on Bianca's smooth rosewood stock and came to a conclusion. 'Right,' he said determinedly. 'Then there's only one option left.'

Fergon Bhelarson looked rather sheepishly at Vidar Harlan. 'What the hell just happened?'

The Head of the Coterie looked back with slightly raised eyebrows. 'You tell me. I believe this is more your area of expertise. You know him better than I do.'

In the meantime Harlan had donned a dressing gown and a pair of slippers, all manufactured out of costly materials, and had moved to his luxuriously furnished living room. All the way with a slightly off balanced Caput of the Carta in tow. He was loath to admit he more or less felt the same but did his utter best not to show it.

That he had chosen to live in the Docks, didn't mean he had to share the poor conditions of the district. On the outside his residence might look like the average miserable dwelling in the harbour quarter, on the inside it turned out to be nothing less than a lavish palace. He offered Bhelarson a glass of exquisite whisky which the Caput gratefully accepted. He craved for a swig of strong liquor, after all that had occurred. They both sat down in the easy-chairs, positioned in front of the comforting fire in the large marble fire-place. The chairman of the Merchant Guild had already taken his leave, together with his associates. He had made it very clear, with his head held high and cursing in his beard, that he was not willing to burn his fingers more than was necessary to keep the Storyteller off his back.

Apparently the infuriating dwarf nicknamed the Storyteller, who was a Paragon of some sorts, if Harlan was to believe the stories of the Carta, had taken over without him or anyone else being able to do anything about it. Varric had ordered, stone-faced, both the edgy members of the Carta and the Coterie to start some kind of expedition to find the gone missing Champion. (Harlan had to grimace foully at the expression; fucking dwarves and their fucking Stone.)

'You know what to do, you lousy buggers, go look and comb the Undercity, the Docks and Lowtown. And don't forget the attics and the cellars of the wealthy high-and-mighty in Hightown. I'm fairly certain you're familiar with those.'

And without any questions or protests, driven by instinct and the dwarf's piercing glare and thunderous voice, both groups had bolted off to obey his orders. It had all happened so fast that Bhelarson and Harlan had been out of the play completely, hardly able to grasp what was going on. The moment it dawned on them someone else had taken temporarily command of their precious cartels, they were the only ones left in Harlan's bedroom. In the midst of an imaginary whirl of dust.

'He's quite the plucky bloke, isn't he,' Harlan pondered, while waltzing the whisky in his glass around. He still felt a bit dazed.

Bhelarson snorted. 'That's one way to put it.'

'How do you cope with him?'

'We don't. He just happens.'

'And you let him happen,' Harlan understood.

The dwarf looked uncomfortable. 'We don't seem to have a choice.' After some reflection he added, 'Frankly, we fear the outcome, should we try to rein him in. He could turn into a loose cannon. One with a small but near unbeatable army of very loyal friends to back him, which includes the Champion.' He thought about that for a moment. 'Who, evidently, has gone missing.' He decided to let that problem go. Too complicated to take into consideration on this already complex night. 'And with a large, be it somewhat obscure, host of informants to boot.'

'I see.' Harlan took a sip of his expensive drink and cleared his throat. He too didn't want to broach the delicate matter of the lost Champion. He was certain it wasn't his doing, but couldn't completely answer for all of his men. He deemed it safer to change subjects. 'How, er, how is business these days?'

Bhelarson shrugged. 'As good as can be expected, I suppose. You know the expression: could be better, could be worse. I take it it's the same with you?'

Contemplatively Harlan filled up the empty glasses. 'Indeed it is. Listen, I've been thinking...' He cleared his throat once more and continued somewhat bashfully, 'Well, I thought, er, I thought, perhaps it could be profitable to, you know, work together now and again..? To a certain degree, of course.'

Fergon Bhelarson, surprised but not unpleasantly so, cocked his head. 'It's surely something to take into consideration,' he reacted cautiously.

'Well, whatever the case, it's almost First Day.' Harlan smiled awkwardly. 'Since you're here anyway, let's make the best of it.'

The Caput of the Carta looked up at the Head of the Coterie. He smiled back and heaved his glass. 'To cooperation,' he grinned.

'To cooperation it is,' Harlan replied.

And so, for the first time ever, Carta and Coterie celebrated First Day together. Due to a door fallen shut. And a loose cannon with a very big mouth.

The word "cellar", uttered by Varric while he gave his instructions to the bewildered groups of thugs, kept nagging at Fenris's mind for hours. He wasn't aware of it at first, though, due to the disturbing thoughts already swirling through his head, taking up most of the space.

It was around midnight and they were all gathered in Varric's suite. "All" meant the whole bunch. So this time it also included Aveline and her husband Donnic, Sebastian, Merrill and, to Fenris´s dismay, Anders. He hated the abomination who had tried so hard to win Marian over after that one wonderful and then completely gone awry night. The mage had made no secret of his feelings for Marian, nor of his efforts to lead her to his bed. That she hadn´t responded to his pleas and pathetic attempts didn´t do anything to ease Fenris´s mind, nor did it dampen his repulsion for the man.

The elf was restlessly pacing the room. He resembled a caged animal that stood on the brink of ripping its chains apart or gnawing a paw clean off. From the moment he had learned Hawke had gone missing, a small but persistent voice at the back of his mind had tried to tell him something he absolutely didn't want to hear. But after neither the Carta and the Coterie nor they themselves had been able to find even the smallest trace of Hawke, that voice had rapidly become a roaring thunder. It was a thought so terrible that it almost deprived him of his sanity.

´By Andraste's flaming knickers, Fenris,´ Varric irritably called out, ´please calm down, won't you? You're making me dizzy! We´re all concerned. We´re all trying to find a solution!´

Fenris turned violently, a sneer on his face. ´What if Danarius was not the only magister who came from Tevinter?´ he blurted out his burning fear. ´What if another magister followed him and has taken her? She is the Champion! A prize for every Tevinter mage!'

The assembly stared at him, shocked.

'You're not serious, are you?' Anders mocked, shattering the sudden heavy atmosphere. 'It sounds rather paranoid to me.'

'Paranoid?!' hissed Fenris heatedly, clenching his fists. 'Paranoid?! It is clear you still don't know, or better don't want to know, one bit about the ghastly methods of Tevinter magisters! They are capable of anything, just to obtain more power!'

'Ah yes!' Anders scoffed. 'Here we go again! Apparently all that mages covet is power! It clearly possesses their whole mind!'

'In my experience it does,' Fenris bit back.

'Stop it, you two,' Aveline intervened sternly. 'Bickering won't bring Hawke back.'

The two sworn enemies kept glaring at each other until Isabela broke the strained silence. 'Right,' she said, too light-heartedly to sound convinsing, 'it seems we have to search the ships in the harbour.'

'You're not really taking this outrageous brain-wave seriously?' Anders incredulously cried out.

'I said, stop it!' The Guard Captain raised her voice while she thumped the table.

'I thought the Carta and Coterie went investigating the Docks,' Donnic said, hesitantly. Askance he looked at Fenris. He could understand his friend's feelings. If anything like this would happen to Aveline, he would turn Kirkwall upside down. Fenris might not have, in so many words, confided to him how much he felt for Hawke, in the way he looked at her, he didn't have to. Donnic understood damn well he cared deeply for her. He gathered his courage and walked over to him. He laid a hand on his arm. 'I understand how you're feeling,' he said silently. 'Know I will do anything to find her.'

Fenris looked at him with such a tormented expression it almost knocked him off his feet. 'I can't stand this uncertainty,' he croaked. 'I want to know what happened to her.'

'And we will find out,' Donnic said, with more conviction than he felt. But he had to support his friend. 'We will find her. Don't doubt that.' He got rewarded with one of Fenris's very rare touches. The elf squeezed the hand lying on his arm and even went as far as giving him a pained smile.

'Thank you,' he murmured.

Varric rubbed his face. He looked a whole less determined than a few hours before. At this moment he couldn't take even pleasure in the fact he bossed the Carta and Coterie around. It had been of no use; Hawke still wasn't found. 'The Docks, yes, Donnic. Not the ships.' He shot the others a brittle smile. 'Sorry, Anders, but in my opinion Fenris has a valid point.' He sighed. 'So it looks like we have yet to take up another task.'

The elf had already exited the suite before the last words were uttered. Closely followed by Donnic.

The only thing they managed to do, was leaving a trail of startled and infuriated ship captains, scattered and distressed deckhands and tons of upside down turned cargo. They didn't discover one Tevinter ship, or any Tevinter native at all, let alone a magister. And, worse, not a sliver of information about Hawke's whereabouts. Finally, around the dawn of a new morning, the day before First Day, the harbourmaster, alarmed by the increasing amount of complaining people storming into his office, put an end to their drastic endeavour. Varric had to promise to send over a cask of first class rum to let the peace return, but even so the confusion and irritation lasted for quite a while. Although, fair is fair, ultimately the ruckus changed character and turned into an early First Day party with lots of fraternizing and new friendships. And again due to ... well, let's call it some thoughtless behaviour.

'This is just brilliant,' Aveline groused while they were walking through Lowtown with nothing achieved but causing a turmoil in the harbour. 'Bran will have my hide for this. I bet I will receive a very special First Day present this year.'

'I didn't know you exchanged First Day presents with the Seneschal, Aveline,' Merrill chirped. 'That's so sweet. I thought you two didn't get along, but I suppose that's the real spirit of...'

Her voice trailed off when she saw Aveline's face: blank but with a not to misunderstand hint at murder. The message wasn't hard to get, not even for her so often fuddled mind. 'I got it wrong again, didn't I,' she mumbled meekly to Sebastian, who was walking next to her.

The Chantry brother smiled reassuringly back. 'That doesn't matter, Merrill. It's the positive thought that counts.'

The Guard Captain rolled her eyes and could but just refrain from giving a snappy remark.

'I told you it was an idiotic idea,' Anders said with badly hidden triumph.

'Shut up,' Donnic warned him. He could simply feel the dangerous glow in Fenris's eyes and he fervently wanted to prevent bloodshed. Although, on the other hand, he had a hard time not to punch the mage in the face. If only on Fenris's behalf.

'And what do we do now?' Isabela asked. She felt completely worn out. 'It's past noon by now and we haven't found a clue whatsoever.'

'I don't know about you lot, but I'm going to try to catch some hours of sleep after a sleepless night,' Varric replied, while he stomped angrily along the streets of Lowtown as if he wanted to punish the cobblestones for the mess. 'I suggest we will meet again at the Hanged Man around six bells this evening. Hawke has to be somewhere; we just haven't thought of the right spot yet.'

They all agreed, though somewhat reluctantly, some more than others, and went their own way for the time being.

But, of course, Fenris isn't pleased at all and something, finally, will trigger his mind...

Thank you for reading!