The Rogue's Conquest
Chapter Two
Eleven Years Later
Free Kirkwall
9:41 Dragon Age
In the quickly ebbing rays of post-dawn, the Market Square should've been ablaze with merchants hawking their wares, housewives giggling over the newest gossip, children chasing each other through the snowy streets, while frazzled adults screamed for them to "SLOW DOWN" to no avail. Instead there was nothing. No town crier, nor a city guardsman in sight. The place was a ghost town. Windows and doors on both houses and shops were shuttered tight, the newly built, Chantry bells hadn't even tolled the time. Only the wailing crows over the dead Market Square, and warm sun were left to prove it was day and not night.
Knight-Commander Sebastian Vael, of the Divines Royal Elite Army, scanned the houses and shops restlessly, sensing the hostility with in. How many bows, daggers and apostates were hiding there too? Preparing to offer the only welcome he and his men could expect from rebels. His army hadn't exactly made the subtlest of entries into the city. Justinia's Elite; had ridden through Kirkwall, a fine sight to behold, dressed head to toe in white Dragonbone, with solid gold encrusted into the trim of the sleek armor. Their helms of the same bone white proudly sat atop their heads with outstretched, golden horns on either side, shining like blinding beacons in the sun. It wasn't standard Templar skirts, but Sebastian's order wasn't an average Templar order. They took their lead directly from the Divine herself, and were only dispatched when things went terribly wrong… And so, here they sat, in Kirkwall, where things had most definitely gone terribly wrong… Actually, things could have only gone worse if the Waking Sea rose up to smite Kirkwall. The Chantry? Gone. Blown to smithereens by rebel mages, and their sympathizers, and rebuilt by non-believers no less, a mockery, no doubt. The Knight-Commander? Dead. The Grand Cleric? Also dead. The city had even been declared free from all Chantry law, the circle abolished. A young Tevinter in the making.
"Absolutely outrageous!" Sebastian scowled, a puff of icy smoke escaping his lips. The city would turn into a corrupt cesspool if it hadn't already. It should be burnt to the ground with its rebels for the crimes and outright murders that had taken place here. "Oh Elthina." Sebastian mourned inwardly. Sweet, Lady Elthina, the Grand-Cleric of Kirkwall and above that, his beloved surrogate mother. She'd given him direction, in place of his wayward inclinations, peace, where devious fires had once burned and most of all she had given him hope, that one day he'd step from the shadows of his brothers.
"Please, Elthina, leave Kirkwall, come to Orlais, where you'll be safe!" Sebastian had written in his last missive to her, a desperate plea for her to see sense, had known it would only be a matter of time before things heated to boiling.
" Calm yourself Sebastian. A good Supreme Mother always stays with her flock. Especially in times of great turmoil. You must have faith, my son. Don't fear for me. A Champion has arisen, like a phoenix from the ash. Kirkwall will be safe, under our Champion's watchful eye." Was all he'd received in return, mere days before the city imploded on itself.
Elthina's trust in this "Champion" had clearly been misguided, immediately after the death, destruction and confusion, like a slithering serpent the "Champion" and self-appointed Viscount, sided with the mages, dissolved the circle, ousted Templar influence, then proclaimed every man, woman and child born in Kirkwall, free. This Champion was the reason Sebastian and his order were here now. It was about time too. Only a week ago; a full year after the city had been left in the Champion's hands, he, along with Knight-Vigilant Cullen and his fellow Knight-Commanders had been asked to join Divine Justinia V, to discuss meeting hadn't gone as expected however. Oh, indeed the Divine had decided to put Templar influence back into Kirkwall, but refused Holy War!
" The Champion is influential my Knights, small rebellions have begun to pop up around all of the Free Marches, because of his influence, more are sure to follow. These people, mages and sympathizers alike love him. I don't need to tell you that mages outnumber us three to one, if they rise up war will ensue, a war that we can't win. Our order can't afford another Tevinter; we have to put this rebellion down quietly. Make the Viscount believe it's his idea. Go under the banner of friendship and peace. Show him the price that his people could pay. Catch the bees in their hive, with their honey, not our vinegar. And when they finally see sense, make their Champion disappear… Quietly"
Those were the orders, come to the city under the guise of peace and strike like thieves in the night. Not ethical in the least. What war was ever fought ethically though?
The Supreme Mother wasn't wrong; this Viscount was an influential leader, with many followers, and stories in abundance about his competence as a legendary warmonger. Rumors had even been spoken in hushed tones through Orlais, (as if speaking his very name would bring his wrath) that The Champion managed to kill a Qunari Arishok in a duel, saving all of Kirkwall from Qunari indoctrination. Impressive, most impressive.
Under different circumstances, Sebastian could even admit an admiration and willingness to shake the man's hand. These weren't different circumstances though, and war was imminent. He was here, under a false banner of peace, to take the Champion's head, not shake the rebel king's hand.
Did the silver fox know? Sebastian wondered. A great leader such as this Champion had to know the Divine would want her city and circle restored. Were his kind offerings of food, drink and warm quarters as false as the Divine's offerings of peace?
Sebastian tightened his gloved hands around his stallions' reins, the thought of warm quarters reminding him of his painfully, chilled fingers. Like all of the Elite soldiers, he too had been soaked to the skin. A freezing ice storm had pelted them as soon as they had landed on the Wounded Coast. Two nights spent camping on windswept hillsides had left every old wound, ever suffered aching. He'd be thirty-three his next name day and this newest mission, to put down the mage rebels, already had him feeling every one of those years. As if the Maker heard his thoughts and decided to mock him, the youngest Knight-Corporal rode up beside him. "Knight-Commander…Sir." He stuttered nervously looking at the crumpled paper in his hand. "Knight-Vigilant Cullen sends his regards. He also says that you'll be quartered in a Hightown Tavern called The Rose. It's just a few -."
Sebastian held up a gloved hand, silencing him. "I know were it is, but the missive must be wrong. The Blooming Rose is a brothel, not a tavern." Irritation bubbled, all Sebastian wanted was a place to bathe and sleep, whose incompetence was to blame for this?
" I assure you Serha." The young man's voice pitched higher. Maker he'd barely just become a man! "The Knight-Vigilant said, I was to take you to your quarters directly. Your baggage is already there. Once you've settled and bathed, he wants you to report to him." Sebastian glared at the younger man for a brief moment, then steered his horse away from his men. He'd much prefer making sure their needs were seen to first, but being under Cullen's thumb this mission carried a whole different set of rules and responsibilities than what he was use to. He was in command of his regiment, but on this assignment he wasn't in charge. He too had orders to follow and lines he could not cross. If Cullen wanted him to report to a brothel now, he really had no choice but to obey.
They arrived at the brothel in silence. Already Elite Centurions were posted on either side of the heavy, violet stained door, the Divine's banners hoisted proudly above them, letting it be known that a Templar regiment would be residing within. Sebastian wondered how many citizens of Kirkwall would be crossing that threshold while he and his men were here, he'd bet only a handful.
Pausing before the Blooming Rose, Sebastian, was mildly impressed by the revival of the old building he had once wasted so much of his youth in. The paint had been stripped from chipped, dirty red, to a simple, but delicate white, lush, violet shutters now adorned each window, with garden beds below, not yet in bloom. Magenta and gold paper lanterns were hung, the ambient flame mimicked the dancing of fire, but weren't hot. An illusion made from magic Sebastian had to assume.
As if beckoned, Sebastian's attention darted from the eerie glow of the lanterns, toward the huge balcony above. There, standing in the shadows, behind thick, pane glass doors, Sebastian could make out the figure of a woman, and though he couldn't see her, he knew, without doubt that their eyes were locked, sending rippling sensations through his body. Unease? Or something else entirely, he pondered, his eyes not leaving hers.
"Knight-Commander?" The young Corporal asked hesitantly, briefly distracting Sebastian from the odd staring contest. "Shall we go in?" Sebastian's eyes flickered to the balcony once more, but the mysterious being was gone, quick, as if she'd never been.
"Perhaps she hadn't been old boy. Sleep depravation, and ice storms have slued the minds of better men than you."
"Yes, lets."
To Sebastian's surprise no one came to greet them when they entered the foyer. No matter what their political beliefs, it was bad business to leave guests waiting. Unhooking his cloak he moved further into the lounge area, were a giant hearth sat, its warmth calling to him like a siren's call. He removed his gloves quickly, warming his hands over the flames. Sebastian looked around taking in his surroundings. The furnishings were elegant enough to be part of a private parlor: mahogany chairs cushioned in white satin. Tavern tables polished in brass. Deep, purple silk lined the walls from floor. to ceiling like a luxurious indoor tent. From the kitchen drifted the aroma of roasting, seasoned chicken, tempting enough to make Sebastian's mouth water in anticipation. The Blooming Rose couldn't be an ordinary brothel, he thought with approval: lodging here would be infinitely more comfortable than water soaked tents on The Wounded Coast.
The memory alone was enough to make him lean in closer to the roaring hearth, letting the heat soak through his sore body. "Have you met this host of ours, Corporal?" he asked a bit impatiently. "He's been so late in his greetings, I'm beginning to suspect he doesn't exist!"
"He doesn't." Said a woman behind him, voice sharp with hostility. "My husband has been dead for many years. The Rose is my tavern and what a truly sad day it is, that she'll have to accommodate Templars, instead of the good people of this city."
"Then perhaps ma'am." Sebastian began "You should talk to your Viscount, about reinstating the Templar order in Kirkwall. If there wasn't an entire city of rebel mages running free, the Divine wouldn't have had need to send her army. Your brothel would be right back to being filled with drunks and whores." Before he turned to face her, Sebastian drew himself up to his full height, determined to let this woman feel the full impact of the Templar armor he bore. In his leather-riding boots, with the silver spurs, he stood well over 6 foot, and was confident he cut a far more imposing figure than anything this woman had ever seen. The golden face of Andraste on his belt buckle, emphasizing his status as Knight-Commander, and not just some wastrel of a patron she'd be used to addressing. "Your servant, ma'am." Sebastian turned fully, unleashing upon her his greatest weapon, a single charming smile, that constantly kept him out of trouble and favored by people, especially women…
"My servant, or my oppressor?" But not this woman, if her venomous tone was to be any judge. "You must be one or the other for you can't possibly be both."
"Mrs. Hawke!" said his Knight-Corporal hastily. "May I introduce Knight-Commander Sebastian Vael, of The Divines Royal Elite Army. Knight-Commander Vael, Mistress Marian Hawke, the proprietress of this establishment."
Sebastian smiled again, bowing slightly in acknowledgement, while she in turn did nothing. "Blast her audacity," he thought irritably, not only was it disrespectful to the order he served, but a lash to his ego as well. Mistress Hawke was a stunning lady, and stunning ladies seldom scorned him like this.
She looked young, perhaps mid to late twenties. Much too young to be married and widowed already, and he was certain she was too young to be running such a huge brothel alone. Her long fiery hair was drawn over her left shoulder, pinned loosely with a beautiful, golden butterfly clip, fitted with small emeralds in the wings, and was left to flutter in waves, upon waves of soft curls, over her left breast. Her eyes were a solemn blue, that seemed to be at odds with a mouth, that he suspected, could blossom into a ripe lush temptation under more desirable circumstances. She wore an emerald and gold robe that left little to the imagination. It clung to every curve like a second skin, the front dipping open in a V all the way to her belly button. At the apex of the V a golden chain seemed to hold the whole ensemble together. Though nearly naked, Mrs. Hawke still managed to hold an air of elegance and more ego than even Sebastian could muster. She was a woman that was to be respected and he guessed, she'd accept no less. He glanced over her once more, taking a passing note of the small, golden heart-shaped locket hanging around her neck.
"Ahem" She interjected, into his appraisal of her person. "You will forgive me, Knight-Commander, if I've left you too long to enjoy this fine fire and my gorgeous lounge," her sarcasm impossible to overlook "I am a bit short handed you see. A number of my people fled when they heard you and your brethren had come to save us from ourselves." She fluttered her small hand to her forehead dramatically, sneering at him.
He sat watching her for a moment trying to control his temper. He knew she was baiting him, but the knowledge didn't make it any easier to bear. "Perhaps you should be grateful the Divine has been merciful, that our arrival has been so peaceful and that none or your people have been wounded or killed.
She arched one shapely eyebrow, dropping her hand and cocking her head to the side studying him with a narrowed gaze.
"Grateful? Oh I'd be a good deal more grateful if I didn't have to house, and feed you and your men. I'm told that in my attic alone there are two-dozen soldiers sleeping on mats."
"You'll be receiving a more than generous stipend for the accommodations ma'am." Said the Knight-Corporal. "I thought I had explained that well enough before!"
But Sebastian doubted she'd even heard the young man, her gaze was fixed on him.
"What of my staff Knight-Commander? They are used to attending to men and women of the better sort. Not rough soldiers."
"May I remind you Mistress Hawke? This fine establishment is still only a brothel. The men and women you have working here, I'm sure have dealt with-." As quick as a cat she snapped her hand up in his face, electrical sparks crackling about her fingertips, her quick show of aggression instantly quieting him.
"This establishment, Serha, is not a brothel. I employ the people here for honest work. However times are hard and Kirkwall is free. I don't condemn them if they choose to sell themselves to the guests, but I am, in no way their pimp and therefore The Rose takes none of the sovereign they make." She paused her rant, staring into Sebastian harder, with a look capable of striking a man's soul dead. "Even if this were a brothel Commander, your men would still be expected to act like gentlemen and not the pack of wild dogs that they are. If my staff complains, about you or your men being too rough just once, you will all find yourselves sleeping on the streets! And mind me when I say Templar, Kirkwall is mighty unforgiving on these winter nights, when the sun no longer warms the skin."
"I assure you ma'am that the men and women will be unharmed and treated with the utmost respect." Said Sebastian earnestly, placing his hand lightly on her wrist to douse the bit of magicka. If the staff were half as prickly as their mistress, it was going to be his men in desperate need of protecting. "There will be no trouble with my men. I give you my word as a gentleman and an officer." To his surprise, Mrs. Hawke's studied composure abruptly faltered. Her cheeks coloured a cherry red.
"Your word, Serha, as a gentleman? As an officer?" she mimicked quietly, pulling her wrist from his grasp.
"Yes ma'am." He said intrigued by the sudden change in the icy Mistress. "My word as both, you have no reason to doubt that. I vow it to the Maker himself."
"Then I suppose that will have to be enough." She sighed. A tight smile plastered on her pretty face. She turned swiftly on her heel, "follow me Serha. I'll show you to your quarters." Collecting his helm and cloak, Sebastian nodded briefly to his Corporal, dismissing him, before following Lady Hawke to the stairs. He watched as she swiftly gathered the train of her robe to ascend the stairs unimpeded, revealing to him the slightest glimpse of a diamond patterned tattoo, placed on the most narrow part of the back of her left thigh, within the tattoo were staggered lines that met and formed into uneven points. To most the piece would be no more than a tribal marking. Sebastian knew better though, had seen it before, just never so far South. He knew the Qunari had occupied/attacked Kirkwall, but he strongly doubted they'd gift this wisp of a woman with such an honor. The symbol of the Triumvirate was sacred to the Qunari, their religion. Only the most respected of the Qun were given the mark. It was a sort of Rite of Passage. He couldn't help but wonder if she knew the danger she put herself in bearing such a mark. Any of the Qun would be demanded to kill this Ms. on the spot, if ever they saw it upon her.
"I have put you in one of the Roses biggest suites Serha." She said unlocking the door, moving to the side for him to go into the room first. "I trust it will suit?"
"How could it not ma'am?" Sebastian responded, forgetting the tattoo for now and focusing on the room before him. He tossed his helm and cloak on the bed. Glad to see that his trunk and bow had already been delivered. Like the rest of the tavern the room was furnished elegantly. The bed was a canopy, with deep, green silk sheets. Its four posts were stained with a deep mahogany and adorned with thick, white curtains. "We poor soldiers seldom have such grand quarters."
Her glance alone, managed to scornfully dismiss his comment for the gallantry it was.
"According to your Knight-Vigilant, you'll have a cord of wood for your fire, delivered here each week. I suggest you draw your curtains tightly around your bed at night, Mr. Vael. It's clear your Divine isn't familiar with how cold Kirkwall winters are, or she would have granted her officers three, instead of one. She walked to the window arms folded over her chest. She moved gracefully the sway of her hips natural, not forced like the woman of Orlais. "I thought you'd prefer a room in the front, so that you could keep watch over the front door, to make sure none of us wicked rebels could escape you.
This time Sebastian wasn't listening to her mockery. The weak winter sun upon her cheek lit her face in a way that was almost familiar. "We've met before haven't we?" It was less of a question than a statement. He frowned moving closer to her, trying to find her place in his past. "At a party perhaps in Starkhaven? Or maybe Redcliffe? My brothers and I used to frequent the Arl's estate there.
"You're mistaken, Serha." She said quickly, much too quickly to be anything else but a lie. She touched her fingers to the golden locket around her neck, rubbing it nervously. "You and I would never have been seen in the same places, nor would we have run in the same circles."
He waved his hand impatiently about to continue when she stopped him once more. " I am originally from Lothering and you from Starkhaven, we never would have met. I come from common stock; you were spoon fed, from a golden spoon. Now, if there's nothing more you require of me I have other matters to attend to." She left him by the window. Her head bowed slightly to avoid meeting his eyes, as she began to close the door after her.
"One last question Mistress Hawke." Sebastian called. Watching as her whole back tensed and she reluctantly looked back at him. He smiled slowly, slightly teasingly holding her gaze. "You've been so kind, to house my men in your attic and lesser rooms. You've given me this generous suite to use. But we're, ma'am, will that leave you to rest your own weary head this night?"
"Your concern touches me, Knight-Commander. Where shall I sleep?" she said, picking up the gauntlet he'd thrown down, smiling a smile that rivaled his own. "In my own bed, behind a locked door, with one of my favored daggers laying next to me on my pillow and a shock of fisted magicka at the ready. Good day to you, Knight-Commander. May the blight taint your Templar soul in the black hell you deserve."
The door clicked shut, leaving Sebastian with a foolish smile stuck on his face. If she wanted a battle from him, then a battle she'd get. He'd make her his second, more personal priority. Another chance to subdue one more rebel, before he was done he'd have her surrendering completely.