Garrett was afraid.
It was not the panic of some sudden danger that was the flavour he usually felt, but a dark pit in his stomach, a dread of what was to come. He usually never had to feel that, he prepared and planned for nearly every situation, and once he had his plan, he could calmly walk into – nearly, obviously – anything. Yet despite having planned meticulously – what to say, what arguments to use, how to frame his case – that dark serpent of fear was wrapped tightly around his gut, making it hard to focus on anything but the beads of sweat running down his spine.
He didn't much care for it.
He had chosen to come in chainmail and wearing his sword, not because he thought he could fight his way out if things turned awry – he was no legendary hero of old, after all – but because the Arishok was a warrior, and seemed to hold respect for others of his profession...at least as long as they were men, if Aveline was to be believed. His shield he'd left behind though, not only because he already had enough burdens, but because he didn't want to appear too ready for battle...it was a fine balance he was walking, and he was well aware of the fact that a sidestep to either way would mean his head ended on a pike.
I know what to do, I just need to do it. The thought didn't bring much comfort.
In front of him, the Qunari guard was looking down at him, his stoic eyes betraying nothing as his gaze wandered from the cloth-covered bundle in Garrett's hands to his face. Maker, it's covered in sweat, I can feel it... The larger warrior paid no heed to that though, his face unreadable as he took a step back, straightening. "You may enter, bas."
At his words, the heavy iron gate behind him silently swung open, the guards pulling them standing in attention with their spears, seemingly cool even in the stifling autumn heat that had descended upon the city. Garrett, feeling a sting of jealousy in the furnace that was his armour, forced himself to move forward.
As he entered the Qunari compound, Garrett's knees nearly turned to water. Maker, please, in the name of Andraste and all your faithful disciples, I do not wish to die, not here, not for this, not for a false servant of yours...
They had cornered Petrice...though 'cornered' was perhaps a strong word, she'd had a few quiet Templars nearby, and had been in a quiet area of the Chantry, with many Priestesses around to bear witness if there was any violence.
Whatever warmth Mother Petrice had conjured up when hiring the group had been gone. Her eyes had been like two pieces of flint, her features taut with scorn, cruelty and conviction...and her words had been like knives. She had without hesitation admitted to leading the Qunari and Garrett's group into a confrontation. She had admitted to having freed the Sareebas and shackled him with runes without a hint of shame. She had admitted that he and his ilk had been expendable to her, a way to start a war, to create yet more tension with the Qunari.
Garrett had barely been able to stop Carver from punching her teeth in. He'd recognised the truth in her words though, that no one would believe a few elves, a dwarf known by the Kirkwall Guard and a Ferelden-born living in the slums over a Mother of the faith...and had tried to smooth things over as much as possible as he brimmed with rage over how close she'd been to getting him and his killed. He'd gotten their payment, and that had been the end of that...or so he fervently wished as he walked into the Qunari compound. If I die for her political machinations...Maker, it would be an unkindness to my family...please...I don't want to die like this...
Garrett had never believed in the power of prayer though, and the words gave little comfort. If He's all powerful, He already knows...the die has been cast.
It was always a shock to come from the Kirkwall docks to the Qunari compound. It was no Hightown, but within the compound the streets were clean, everything orderly, the paint on the walls new, the roofs properly tended to...it was like looking at a different Kirkwall, one almost beautiful despite the modest buildings and streets within.
There were only a few Qunari standing guard around the small plaza some had jokingly started calling the 'Qunari audience chamber'...their eyes were following Garrett, cold and emotionless. Far to Garrett's right – much to his surprise – half a dozen elves were busy hanging up laundry, though they had stopped now that they'd spotted him. Their gaunt features marked them as Alienage elves, but these had nothing of the whipped look most had when around humans. They were openly staring at him, resentfully narrowing their eyes as hands tightened into fists. The Qunari are taking in elves now? Why? Garrett tried to pay the staring men no heed, but that proved hard as one dropped a hand to the dagger in his belt, gripping it tightly.
With an effort of will, Garrett kept moving, struggling not to lick his lips and further reveal how nervous he was.
In the air, there was the scent of freshly baked bread. The Qunari bought the ingredients for all they ate and made their food themselves...still, they paid well for good ingredients, freely handing out credit one could use in Par Volen or Seheron. And as every merchant worth his salt knew, Qunari credits were worth their weight in gold. Always honoured, they led to holds brimming with spices that sold for millions all around Thedas.
There was also the sound of a hammer striking steel, of a forge at work – day and night, some said – on forging...Garrett couldn't say what. He agreed with Viscount Dumar who had expressed displeasure with selling iron ore to the Qunari, though the man hadn't dared go so far as to forbid it...and no doubt such a ruling would have fallen on deaf ears. When gold was involved, the nobles easily ignored their Viscount. Hopefully, it's nothing martial, there's enough tension as it is.
Tension Garrett now personally felt, like a great weight, pushing down on him, squeezing him until he was the size of an ant as he marched to what might well be his doom. He had prepared extensively, questioned Fenris to the point that the elf had started sneering at him, repeated his plan to himself a thousand times...even tried to prepare for the alien reasoning the Qunari used. But how do you prepare for something you don't understand? Every time Garrett thought of his idea, of how to reason with the Arishok...he couldn't help but see the Sareebas burning to ash in front of his eyes. This is a fool's errand.
Yet there was no choice, not if he wanted his family to be safe, and especially not now, with the gate closing behind him.
He moved forward.
Ahead, atop a small dais, seated on a simple wooden bench that seemed a throne when he used it, the Arishok looked down on Garrett. One arm was resting on his knee, the other was hanging limp, the man a statue in all but his eyes, eyes as calm as a still sea as they watched Garrett approach.
Finally, judging himself to be at a respectful distance, Garrett stopped and held back the impulse to kneel, knowing the Qunari put no worth in such gestures.
Silence.
Garrett felt more than a dozen pair of eyes on him, the angry stares of elves boring into his back as uncomfortable as the calm looks of the Qunari guards. And the Arishok...his eyes were so steady, so focused...Garrett felt himself shrink even further under their scrutiny. His voice was sombre, the deep timbre commanding respect as if he'd been born with it. "You are familiar, present yourself."
Garrett swallowed, his back drenched in sweat that had suddenly turned cool enough to make him shiver. "Garrett Hawke." At least his voice was steady, if smaller than usual. "I was the sellsword with the merchant Javaris."
"Ah, yes, the dwarf of wide mouth and narrow mind." If it was a joke, the Arishok wasn't laughing, and Garrett found no impulse to do so himself, not while standing in the middle of the plaza, moments from what could be his death. "You were paid, human, why do you come? There is no gold to be found in the Qun. Nothing we require of you, and all we have to offer is the Qun." He gestured at the elves at the corner, elves still glaring at them, the one with the dagger still stroking the handle, making Garrett shiver as he turned back to regard the Arishok. "Or have you come here to...trade?" The Arishok spoke the last word with a hint of distaste, as if the word didn't quite fit his mouth and left a sour taste behind.
"N-no...no I have not." Garrett took a deep breath, trying to still his rapidly beating heart, and failing. "I come...on a different errand." Another deep breath...his hands trembling...and he let the content of his blanket spill out on the ground. Maker, please...
The large black swords fell to the ground with a clatter.
Then silence descended upon the plaza, a tense silence.
Garrett felt the Kossith guards shift their grips on their spears, muscles tensing as the statues they had been became ready to move forth, their calm eyes now holding a fire deep within, a fire directed at Garrett. The elves had taken several steps forward, the one with the dagger having drawn his weapon, the others looking as if they wouldn't need one.
Garrett felt all that, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling even as he felt every bead of sweat on his skin like little needles, dragging their points over his flesh like daggers.
I will not beg for mercy...mostly because it wouldn't work...
He licked his lips.
The Arishok remained still though, all save the eyes, looking down at the swords, then back up to Garrett. When his mouth moved, it was like watching a statue come to life. "Nine swords, the only group I have sent out of that number is a Karaatam in search of a Sareebas." He shifted in his seat, leaning closer. There was no narrowing of his eyes, no shift in his tone, yet his words sent a shiver down Garrett's spine. "Explain this."
All Garrett's preparations, all his arguments, his plan...it was suddenly lost to him, his mind drawing a blank where it had been just a moment ago. Eyes wide, panic gripping him, he swallowed. "They're...dead."
Behind him, the elves hissed, their stares making Garrett's skin prickle in fear.
"Obviously, they would not have been separated from their Asala otherwise." Asala, soul, the swords, the soul of the warriors, as Fenris said... Garrett licked his lips, the fragment of Fenris' lesson not really helping at the moment. "I thank you for returning them, a lost Asala is a shame upon their bearer and the Qun." The Arishok's thanks sounded empty though, a courtesy, nothing more. Better than not bringing them, at least. "But how did they die?"
Andraste, please... Garrett felt every eye on him. The Arishok seemed to see right through him, seeing the truth before it even spilled from Garrett's lips. "I killed them."
The elves drew nearer with a growl...and the Arishok's gaze shifted, narrowing at them...and Garrett struggled not to collapse in relief as the elves retreated from his unguarded back. Too close... Then, the narrowed eyes turned back to him. Maker, creator of all, for the love you bear humanity, don't - "You? Alone?"
"No, but I command. I bear responsibility." Garrett swallowed, straightening as best he could. There, I said it, might be I just saved Bethany and Carver...
The Arishok nearly seemed pleased by the answer. "Agreed, such are the ways of war." Thank the Maker! Relief flooded Garrett...and then the Arishok's eyes flashed. "You are responsible for their deaths."
Garrett felt all colour drain from his face. He had no answer to that, no rebuttal, his mind frozen, quavering in fear deep within his skull.
The Arishok leaned back, calm once more, but there was an edge to his voice, like a razor aimed at the human before him. "They sought a Sareebas."
"Y-yes..." Realising the Arishok was giving him his cue to speak, Garrett cleared his throat as best he could, his windpipe painfully tight. "And they found it, with us..." Maker, I'm shaking! He tried to still himself, but couldn't, the steady gaze of the Arishok draining all courage from him. "We...I...had been hired to bring the Sareebas out of Kirkwall, to free him."
"It was already free." The Arishok grunted.
"Yes...it said so." Garrett grimaced at the word. "Once it was capable of speaking that is, it had been silenced by runes while we escorted it...and even if it had not, I doubt it would have spoken, it...obeyed." Garrett hoped that would please the Arishok, perhaps even distract him from those Garrett had slain...though he knew that was a vain hope. "It followed the Qun...ending its own life."
"Of course." The Arishok nodded. "I would not dishonour it by expecting anything else." His gaze was steady on Garrett. "And neither should you."
"I find little honour in suicide." Garrett nearly bit his tongue as the words slipped out before he could stop them. "I mean...errr..."
"I do not expect you to think as we do, Hawke." The Arishok grunted. "You are still Basra."
Still? Garrett bowed his head, struggling once more not to bow in supplication. Maker, I don't know where I have this man! He's impossible to read! "Basvaarad, the Sareebas called me."
"Did it?" The Arishok arched an eyebrow, though if it was in surprise or some other cue, Garrett couldn't tell. A hum escaped the Qunari. "Do you know what that means?"
"Bas is foreigner..." A polite translation, according to Fenris. "...and varaad is derived from Arvaraad, the one guarding the Sareebas."
"One worthy of following, by a Sareebas..." The Arishok tilted his head to his side, watching Garrett as a man would a fly. "...curious, I did not think any in this city could best a Karataam, nor be considered Basvaraad, or defeat Tal-Vashoth. You, Hawke, are different."
Different good, or different 'a threat to destroy'? Garrett forced himself to incline his head in a nod though, his voice almost steady. "Thank you."
"Facts are nothing to thank someone for, they simply are." The Arishok dismissed Garrett's words with a wave of his hand. "Tell me more. The Arvaraad demanded the return of the Sarebaas as the Qun commands, and you...?"
"Denied them. I had hoped they'd back down, knowing that they were in a bad position..." Garrett forced him to say, feeling the elves still glaring daggers at his back. If the Arishok orders my death, they will be the first to reach me..."My contract was to take the Sareebas to safety, I honour my contracts."
"For whatever honour there is in fighting for coin." The Arishok snorted, then inclined his head. "Still you acted as you must, as did the Arvaraad, the conflict could not be avoided."
"That...was what the Arvaraad said." Garrett admitted, grimacing at the memory. "I do not agree, I tried to avoid the conflict, truly."
"Agree or not, the events could not fall differently, only the outcome surprises me." The Arishok nodded. "The Sarebaas is gone, the conflict is resolved."
Silence.
Garrett sensed the elves looking at one another in confusion even as the other Qunari stepped down from their high alert. What...just happened? "Just like that? You aren't...angry?" Garrett was too confused to be relieved, though his legs remained watery, barely able to hold him up.
"All acted with honour and did what they must. There is nothing to be angry about." The Arishok replied, eyeing Garrett calmly. "However, I will be watching. If you make yourself an enemy of the Qun you will be dealt with." So...if I kill them on my own volition? Without honour demanding it? Garrett frowned, confused, yet by now relief was starting to trickle in, making him sway where he stood as the realisation that he wouldn't die started to sink in. "Is there anything else?"
"No." The word came quickly, Garrett far too eager to leave, to reach safety...yet a part of him made him linger, to speak up. "Actually...yes." The Arishok arched an eyebrow. "My contract...she led your Arvaarad to my location, she wanted the conflict." The Arishok looked back at him, not looking nearly as bothered as Garrett had expected. "She's a Mother in the Chantry, apparently part of a faction wanting to stir up conflict with the Qunari, to eject you from the city."
The Arishok snorted, leaning back in his seat. "These groups and factions...they all merge together in one filthy morass. At Seheron there is only the Qun, but here...here the illusions of beliefs are as many as the people in this city." A shake of his head. "If this Mother wishes to force us out, she should come here and try and force us herself."
Priestesses don't carry swords... Garrett didn't say it, knowing the Arishok didn't care for the strange world he was in. "She will not do that, she will stay in the shadows, continuing to stir up resentment of your people, to turn people against you and create a war."
"Our enemies stay in the shadows because they cannot truly harm us." The Arishok calmly replied, making Garrett frown. Tell that to the Arvaarad. "They are of no concern for the Antaam, the Qunari army does not battle shadows." A snort. "We will continue to act according to the Qun, with honour..." The Arishok eyed Garrett with narrowed eyes. "If there will ever be a war, it will not be the Qunari who start it."
"That's what I fear. I do not wish for a war within the city walls."
"Wishes are but dust in the wind." The Arishok shrugged. "I cannot do anything against those acting in the shadows, but once they enter the light, I will destroy them."
"If you can." Garrett warned, worried by the implications of the Arishok's words.
The Qunari nodded. "If I can. Now go, you have done what you came for, and your words of this sick city will not make it any better."
"As you wish." Garrett offered a stiff bow, then beat a retreat, doing his best to ignore the glaring elves as he headed for the relative safety of the Kirkwall docks.
When he got outside, he stopped, head tilting back as he gave voice to a deep sigh of relief, feeling as if he'd been holding his breath throughout the talks with the Qunari. A feeling as if it was all an unreal dream descending upon him.
I'm...alive?
8
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The group ghosted forward.
Garrett was suspicious of their current job-offer, fearing a trap. Who wouldn't, with a letter slipped under the door at night, promising an ample reward to someone that had proved willing to aid mages in need? As such, none of his siblings, despite their protests, came along for this job, Garrett wouldn't risk it, not with such circumstances. The only member of the family he'd brought was Maric who lay beside him. The dog would be capable of running back home and warning the others if the group stumbled into the trap.
Still, if the offer was genuine, it would be enough to take them past the fifty Sovereigns mark...and Garrett couldn't let such an opportunity go, not when they were running out of time.
Varric was off with Bartrand, trying to stall the dwarf a bit longer, convincing him there would be no need to go with less than a full investment in equipment, that Garrett would come through for them. Though that was a tall order, Garrett had refused Varric to offer a down payment, for while he was by now convinced of their need to go on the expedition, Garrett wasn't about to leave Bartrand with a large sum of his money without Garrett himself being around to keep an eye on the dwarf. With Varric maybe...Bartrand...not a chance...and whatever Varric says, he's no family. An image of Gamlen flickered before Garrett's vision, making him grimace and cock his head. Well...close family.
Nor was Aveline with them...and Garrett disliked that. We do too many jobs that circumvent the law, it's dangerous and...well I could use her. It bothered him, but even though he'd seen her at their last dinner, he was actually missing her. Too little time to take council thanks to mother hogging the woman's attention...shame she couldn't come, Aveline would have been far easier to be with than these others...
The others were right behind him.
Merrill and Anders had both volunteered their service for a tiny cut, the later always willing to help a fellow mage, the former...well Garrett wasn't sure, just...helpful? I don't understand that elf, she doesn't seem to have an agenda, despite the blood magic and...elvenness...it puts me on edge. Is she just trying to be helpful, as she says? That seems...implausible...she's up to something, and I don't like it.
Fenris and Isabela had demanded a larger cut, and Garrett had – after some haggling and counting to ensure there would be enough of a profit for him – agreed to it under the proviso, a word Isabela still hatedfor some reason, that he'd only pay them if there actually was a job to be had. The former was currently in a glaring contest with Anders, while the later... "What's going on?" In a crouch, Isabela moved up to his other side, making Garrett realise he was flanked by a hound and what Carver had summarized as a 'bitch in heat'. Garrett didn't find that too amusing though, and shot the other woman a curt nod. He still thought her careless and foolish...but not many could take a javelin to the leg and then come back for more, especially still dressed in that ridiculous outfit of hers...it was reckless, but worthy of respect. She doesn't scare easily, that's for sure.
"I'm not sure." Garrett replied, looking ahead. They were close to Sundermount, but on the wrong side, meaning they'd likely not bump into any Dalish, for which Garret was thankful, one was annoying enough. With all the trees and boulders around, it was difficult drawing a clear line of sight at anything ahead, but Garrett was sure he'd seen a flash of steel not too far away, just below the little hill they'd crested. "Think I saw someone."
"Oh, you mean that Templar over there?" Isabela pointed, and as Garrett followed her finger, he noticed the tiniest of glitters behind two bushes...he shot her a look, equally questioning and surprised, making her chuckle and shrug. "Pirate."
"Meaning...?" Garrett arched an eyebrow.
The pirate rolled her eyes. "Meaning my eyes are drawn to shiny things!" She made an exaggerated gesture at the gaudy necklace hanging down her neckline, making Garrett struggle not to glance – he wasn't like Carver, but he was still a man, and the woman was too much in his face to be ignored – much to Isabela's obvious amusement. Maybe Carver wasn't wrong... "And any pirate worth their boots knows how to tell 'fancy' shiny from 'dangerous' shiny..." Her amusement fading a little, the Rivaini turned back to the glitter ahead, eyes narrowing. "Only looks like the one though...why would a lone Templar be out here?"
"He's waiting." Garrett replied, suddenly putting two and two together. "Waiting for us." He rose to his feet, Isabela swiftly following as the others looked up at them, sensing something was about to happen. Raising his voice, Garrett advanced. "Come on, let's see what Thrask has to say..."
In moments, they'd reached the bottom of the little hill and pushed their way through the foliage marking the edge of the small road Garrett had chosen – given his fear for a trap – not to walk on for their last mile. Beyond the undergrowth, the road had been reduced to a narrow path of packed earth with an overgrown ditch on either side...and even that ended as the road turned into a small sandy field in front of a mound of moss-covered rocks with a wide opening in its centre. A cave.
Before it Thrask stood, eyes wide as he turned to face the group suddenly appearing, though his relief was palpable as he recognised them. The man was as Garrett remembered him from their hunt of Feynriel. Long coppery hair, a closely cropped beard with the odd streak of grey, and eyes so blue and screaming out his emotions that it was a wonder if he'd ever managed a lie in his life."Ah, you got my letter, I was beginning to fear you wouldn't come."
"It takes a few hours to gather my people." Garrett replied, coming to a stop before Thrask, wary as he always was around his kind. "Especially if you have to leave the same day, more of a warning would have gone a long way."
"There was no time, unfortunately, I only recently got my orders myself." Thrask shifted, looking uncomfortable as he eyed the group at Garrett's back. "How...how's Feynriel?"
And no wonder. Maric was watching the man as warily as Garrett, Isabela as if she wanted to eat his eyes, Fenris with a disapproving frown and Anders with open hostility. Only Merrill seemed somewhat friendly, though that was hard to tell given the way she was shyly hiding behind Isabela. At least she's taken the lessons of the dangers of Templars to heart... "He's safe." Garrett replied, not about to waste more time on discussing unimportant things after their long trek.
"And far from your Circle." Anders just had to add, the mage hissing the last word as if it was a curse.
"Good." Thrask nodded, eyes looking pleased...and somewhat amused by the way his answer made Anders blink. "The Circle is good for many, it gives them a home, a place to learn...but it's not for everyone, I know that." He hesitated, then glanced at the cave. "Also, it breeds hostility between the Templars and mages that need not be, to the point that some believe it's a relationship between jailers and jailed."
"It is." Anders growled, arms crossed over his chest as Garrett sighed. I...understand your position, but must you drone about it at the worst of times...?
"It has become such in many places, yes." Thrask allowed, a sliver of impatience in his eyes. "It need not be so, but now it is...and that's a dangerous situation, creating conflicts, like this situation we're now in."
"You are in." Garrett corrected, though he didn't move, save cocking his head to the side. "That is, if your payment is good." He spoke before Thrask could reply. "And I judge the task doable."
"Of course." Thrask nodded, pulling a pouch free from his belt, a thick pouch. "Your payment." Without hesitation, he handed it over to Garrett. "All I promised." Garrett didn't bother counting the coins, there was no lie in Thrask's eyes. "Now, could we get to the point? There is precious little time." He glanced at the cave, then down the road leading to it, the impatience in his eyes growing.
Hmm...don't like this. The pouch in his hand was heavy though, and Garrett found his reluctance defeated by its weight. "Give me the story."
"Two weeks ago, there was a fire in the Circle at Starkhaven and a dozen mages fled the tower in the confusion-" Thrask began.
Only for Anders to chime in. "Good, every free mage is another out of the Chantry's tyranny."
Fenris frowned at that, shaking his head. "Free to create their coven, you mean? Start what might be another Tevinter empire? Mages ruling everyone else like slaves. I'm sure you'd welcome such a change without hesitation."
"Everyone deserves to be free, don't try and twist my-"
"Enough." Garrett growled the word, silencing them both. I knew bringing them both to this was a mistake...at least they'll be professional once we get going. "Please continue, Thrask."
"The Starkhaven Templars have been tracking these mages and requested that Kirkwall would assist once it was clear the mages were heading that way." Thrask grimaced. "A forester caught sight of the mages hiding here and Meredith sent word to the Starkhaven task-force and sent me here to guard the entrance to the cave."
"Alone?" Fenris asked, surprised. "Mages are a dangerous thing, Templar."
Anders hissed, but Thrask was quicker to reply. "I might not look like much, but my ability to subdue mages is near second to none." There was no lie, nor any pride, in the statement. "If they came to the surface, I could well kill them with a strong enough smite...I do not wish that to happen, but it might be that they'd force me, if they came out." Again, no lie. "However, once the Starkhaven Templars arrive...they're led by Ser Karras, a Templar known for his harsh take on mages. He'd order a bloody assault that would kill all the mages without a second thought."
Anders was shaking his head. "So either they die, or they die...you Templars always give mages so many choices."
"They could have chosen to stay." Fenris growled.
Before the argument could resume, Garrett spoke up, focused on Thrask. "You want us to get them."
"I do." Thrask confirmed with a nod. "If they see me, they'll panic and try to resist, and I'm unsure how bloody such an event would be. If Karras comes, they'll die for sure. You, however, are no Templar, and you even have mages with you." He nodded at Merrill and Anders, the former who's eyes bulged in panic. "They hide those energies well, but as I said, I'm powerful in the ways of the Templar." There was no threat in his eyes, no hint of disapproval...so Garrett said nothing, letting the man continue. Glad I didn't bring Bethany though...knew it was too much of a risk. "I hope you can go in, talk to them, convince them to come out and surrender to me...if they do so, Karras will have no power over them, they'll be my-"
"Prisoners." Anders snarled, making Fenris snort as the two exchanged glares.
"-charges." Thrask replied, irritation in his eyes as he shot the two a look before returning to Garrett. "I'll bring them back to the Circle unharmed, make sue their punishment is but the scrubbing of pots...it's the best I can do." He was unsure if he could make the punishment that light, Garrett saw, but sure of bringing them back alive. Thrask then inched closer to Garrett, lowering his voice as his eyes screamed sympathy. "Listen, these mages...they've been out in the woods for two weeks. They have never been outside the circle before, never mind in the wild...they'll be half-starved, desperate, scared, I've seen it before...they need help. Please...I have no one else to turn to for a peaceful end."
It's dangerous. Garrett frowned, worried...twelve mages were dangerous no matter their state or power, if it turned to violence...Garrett didn't much care for those odds. Too dangerous? The pouch in his hand pulled down, wanting to attach itself to his belt. If we don't do this...Varric might not be able to stall Bartrand. His frown deepened as he stared at Thrask's breastplate. And Karras and his Templars are coming, that makes it even more dangerous...if they think we're trying to help the mages...it is too dangerous. Yet the coins weighed heavily, signifying an end to their struggles with raising money, to the next step in the plan, perhaps the only chance they'd have...
Damn it.
Garrett raised his eyes, grimly meeting Thrask's hopeful ones. "Very well, you have yourself a deal." He grimaced even as Fenris and Anders both muttered something under their breath, neither fully approving. "We'll do this quickly though, I imagine that Karras would not like outsiders interfering in Templar business?"
Now it was Thrask's turn to grimace. "Not really, no, which is why I had hoped you'd arrive sooner."
"Things don't always happen as we'd like them to."
With those foreboding words, Garrett moved past Thrask and towards the mouth of the cave...
8
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Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being such a stubborn arse.