Sun...
Varric smiled and closed his eyes as he turned his head up to face the warmth as he stepped outside. Even two months after leaving the Deep Roads behind, he couldn't help but feel thankful for something so simple as the sun on his face. And given how things had panned out...he had a lot of time to appreciate such small things.
His share of the loot – even after he had convinced a not too reluctant Garrett to give the others the pay of those that hadn't made it – was more than he ever could hope to spend, at least with his habits...and why would he change his habits? Unlike Garrett, he had no one to support now. It was...odd...but without Bartrand, Varric had suddenly a lot of free time. He no longer had to watch his brother's back and constantly be on damage-control, nor attend merchant-guilds meetings and talk to various contacts in the underworld. Of course, he still kept up with the contacts in the underworld, but now more as a hobby...and he could now focus most of his time on telling tales, socialise with people and sing the odd song...a relaxing existence he was very happy with.
It made him feel guilty, to be relieved that Bartrand was gone, but in the end, it was hard to grieve for a man choosing a moment with his gold over his own brother. You always were greedy and heartless, Bartrand, but I thought you at least cared about me...
Sighing, Varric opened his eyes and shook his head. There was no point beating himself up about what had happened, especially when it hadn't been his fault. Speaking of Garrett... Varric steered his steps towards Hightown, having already decided to pay the man a visit a week ago.
The escape from the Deep Roads had proceeded relatively painlessly after the loss of Bethany. They had encountered no more Darkspawn, and between the three of them, he, Garrett and Merrill had turned the Deepstalkers more into a source of nourishment than a threat. Sure, it had taken a while, but after Fenris had noticed a similar intersection, meaning the group was back on track, it had been a straight shot back to Kirkwall.
Garrett had practically been a mute during that journey, no attempt by any in the group capable of dispelling the frown of depression or the look of despair in his eyes. Yet he had led them out, and he had bought back the Amell mansion in Hightown...and given what Varric had learned, the man was anything but a broken man. Tough lot, those Hawkes.
Varric had kept his distance the two months since their return, both out of respect for what had happened – surely Garrett wouldn't want a reminder of his loss to come knocking on his door – but because he knew that the man was busy like a fox in the hen-house. Varric liked to think he looked out for his friends, and after all that had happened, he liked to think of Garrett as a friend...so he'd...listened in on what the man was up to, curious and protective in equal measure. He's not like me, enjoying what he has, no he wants more, he wants to change things...no wonder I get the feeling he'll be a good source of new tales.
His contacts in the underworld had all been quite thrilled about the new noble in town, as had many contractors and minor businesses. The man had already invested in several smaller merchants, nothing major, but Varric could – after all his time with Bartrand – spot the nucleus of a trading-network when he saw it. Garrett was also hiring, workers and masons for his mansion, as well as dozens of workers and various experts, along with near a hundred mercenaries, buying them equipment and tools for lumps sums even Kirkwall seldom saw. Why Garrett, if I didn't know better, I'd say you're mounting a second expedition with the intent to clear out the demons and get a hold of all we left behind... Not that Varric minded, Garrett could have it all for all he cared, since Varric was set for life. Even recruiting apostate mages via Anders...you don't do things in half-measures, do you?
Moving up the familiar steps leading to Hightown, Varric was greeted with the usual market full of trinkets the nobles might want. It was a far cry from the packed markets down in Lowtown, one Varric found rather dull...but it was clean and open...two things Varric had learnt to appreciate in the dusty and claustrophobic Deep Roads. Being a familiar sight in every part of town, Varric didn't draw nearly enough looks as the average dwarf in less than pristine clothing would in Hightown, meaning none accosted him like they might have with other people.
Unlike say, Isabela and Merrill...
Smirking, Varric approached the two women from the side, watching the scene develop. Merrill was a step behind Isabela, looking decidedly awkward as with pink ears she glanced left and right at everyone who cast them but a glance..which most did. Isabela on the other hand, was practically leaning on the guard she was speaking to, her voice like velvet, yet with the slightest hint of edge to it. "Now, I know my hind-quarters are delicious, but you have been following us for the last five minutes, so if I didn't know better, I'd think you actually believe us to be thieves..."
"L-lady, I'm ju-just doing my job..." The guard seemed to be hiding under his helmet, yet there was no concealing the blush under the eyes darting between the woman whose chest was pressing into his armour and to the sides to try and find some kind of escape Isabela...Maker, you're evil at times. Varric snickered. "Th-there's been reports of pi-pickpockets and-"
"Oh? So just because I don't have a fancy coat, I'm a thief? Are you discriminating against the poor now? Or is it because of my friend here being an elf? Racist." Isabela practically spat the last word, making the guard take a step back, yet she remained on him, giving him no room to breathe or escape. "I know Aveline you know." She raised a hand, pressing two fingers together. "We're this close." Yeah, close to coming to blows, maybe. Varric grinned as the woman, without a hint of shame, lied through her teeth. "So unless you want single patrol in Darktown, at night, I'd back off if I were you."
"I think that's what he's trying to do, actually." Varric chimed in, grinning at the two ladies as they turned a pair of pearly smiles his way. Way better than Bartrand, people who like me for who I am rather than what. Still smiling, he turned his gaze to the confused guard, the poor man still probably unable to remember that the guard never sent single guardsmen into Darktown. "Hey, Daveth, relax, they're with me, not thieves."
"Ah...well I didn't..." The man struggled to answer, confused.
And Varric turned his smile over to Isabela, assuming a gentle tone. "And I'm sure Daveth meant no disrespect, he's a nice kid."
A glimmer of amusement in Isabela's eyes, and she backed away with a pout. "Fine, it was all a misunderstanding."
"Exactly." Varric gestured to Daveth to walk away, which he all to eagerly did, much to a few passers-by obvious amusement. Watching the man leave, Varric waited for a moment before turning his gaze back to Isabela with a grin. "So what will you do with the money?"
"This?" Isabela raised the little pouch she'd snatched from the guard while he'd been busy alternating between eyeing her cleavage and looking for a way out, shook it and grunted in disappointment at the small rattle. "Share one ale with Merrill, it seems...I really think he owes us more after such an insult. Thieves...bah!" She offered a feigned look of anger even as her eyes flashed in amusement.
"Yes...that was...rude?" Merrill chimed in, the elf staring at Isabela's face, then the pouch she was now slipping onto her belt, a look of confusion on her face. "Wait, you didn't just-"
"Do you know everyone, Varric?" Isabela interrupted before Merrill could ask the question she probably didn't want answered. "Or are you a mage in dwarf disguise?"
"Indeed, you've caught me, Templar." Varric held up his hands in surrender, grinning. Then he shrugged. "Information is a fun trade to ply, the use of it a fun game to play, and I'm good at it, I'm afraid."
"So..." Isabela smirked, looking over Varric's appearance, gaze as always lingering on his chest to tease. "...where's your satin robes and servants, Varric? You did get half the share, didn't you?"
"Oh please, if I showed up like that, no one would take me seriously." Varric chuckled. "Call me a dragon, I mostly prefer to just sit on that wealth, knowing it's there."
"Ah, so now you sleep on a bed of money?" Isabela licked her lips, gaze drifting off. "Sounds beautiful..."
"It's kind of painful, actually, gives me a crick in my back." Varric snickered, then turned his gaze to Merrill before Isabela could offer to make such a bed a little smaller. The dragon must guard his hoard from looters, after all...especially those who'd gladly take everything. "How are you doing, Daisy?"
The elf made a little jump at the question, looking surprised at being noticed. Yet the smile was kind, the strained kind Varric knew she used when she was trying to not complain. "Oh it's good, the pay from the expedition was very good, so even though I haven't had a job for a long time, I still have money saved...a little, at least." Varric smiled back, knowing that already. Can't be much left now, even with you not spending too much of it in the Hanged Man with Isabela. "Oh, but I did get a job last week...for a washerwoman..." Merrill glanced down, making Varric notice her reddened hands. "...I'm not very good at it."
No, no you're not. In fact, you will likely be fired by the end of the week, and this woman isn't known to pay elves that disappoint her. Varric wasn't about to say it though, Merrill was obviously trying to become independent, and robbing her of that chance wouldn't be kind. Still... "Well, if it doesn't work out, you can always come to me. I'm pretty good at finding people employment, you know."
"Thank you!" Merrill's face split into a wide grin, big eyes twinkling, making Varric and Isabela exchange a grin. Cute as a puppy, that one. "You are so nice, Varric, not at all like your brother."
Varric blinked, feeling something small twist in his stomach even as Isabela shot the elf an exasperated look. "Merrill..."
"Oh! I shouldn't have..." Merrill put a hand over her mouth, eyes even wider than usual. "...I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"It's okay, Daisy." Varric offered a pale smile and raised a hand, silencing the babbling he was sure was about to explode from the elf. "I know...besides, you're right, I'm nicer than he was, always was." He found his smile turn a little more genuine as he brushed the grief aside. "Now, I'm guessing you two are as curious as I am about what the Hawkes have been up to?" The two women nodded, one with a grin, the other with a giddy jump. "Well then let us join forces and we'll go and check now, eh?"
With a few mutters of ascents, the trio made their way towards the Amell mansion. Though despite the long walk – the mansion lay at the heart of Hightown – it wasn't hard to find the building.
For it was big, very big.
Built during the Orlesian occupation, the mansion was more of a palace, an opulent central structure of high pillars and curved arches, all in marble covered in carvings too small for anyone but a guest to see, beautiful beyond compare to anything in Lowtown. Around it, smaller buildings, including a stable and a barrack enough for a small army – the Orlesian occupiers hadn't been too popular in Kirkwall – were laid out and built in largely the same ostentatious manner. Placed on a low hill, like many of the larger and central mansions, the palace towered over much of the surrounding city. Around it, gardens that had obviously been left untended – with plants choked dead by weeds or died off due to a lack of care – spread out far and wide, enough space to rival that of a small farm. Ugly when the gardens are all a mess though...no wonder Garrett managed to buy the mansion relatively cheap, the other nobles must have pushed to have the previous owners removed...good, never did like slavers.
A few of the workers Garrett had hired were busy pulling weeds and working the untended soil beneath, though Varric had an inkling that was more Leandra's doing than Garrett's.
The majority were at the edge of the estate though, working on the wall, much to the annoyance of passing nobles, being forced to watch dirty people from Lowtown and even Darktown on the streets of Hightown. The men, motivated by better pay than they usually could ever dream of – legally, at least – were working hard though, and most of the original wall had already been removed. The six feet wall of white lime would apparently not do to Garrett, and while of white stones too, the new wall they were already raising near where the gate would be a full twelve feet tall...Varric even noticed how a parapet was being built atop the one section close to being finished. Figures, give a Fereldian a fence and he turns into a wall, bet if they had a ditch, he'd make a moat out of it. Varric chuckled.
His humour swiftly faded though, he could easily picture the reason for Garrett's decision to make a sturdier wall around his home, and there was nothing funny about that.
Next to him, Merrill was giving the burgeoning wall a hesitant look, torn between the Dalish dislike of such creations and perhaps a sympathetic inkling as to why it was being made. Isabela, on the other hand, was giving Varric a confused look, not really understanding his suddenly grim face. Oh she knows the facts, but to understand...it's hard to do that when you weren't there, when you didn't see the naked agony...
With lessened saunter to his steps, Varric approached where a path leading up towards the mansion suggested there would be a gate. He hadn't missed the sentries with halberds spread out along the garden to make sure no one entered uninvited, so judged it best to approach in the proper manner.
There, two guards eyed the approaching trio with bewilderment, one's eyes large, the other with an eyebrow arched in disbelief and a hint of hostility. In contrast to the ones in the garden, these were gripping still sheathed swords at their hips, and held up shields displaying a black background with the two blood-red birds of the Amell family crest facing one another, claws intertwined in a complex pattern. Huh, almost looks like a pair of hawks...but that's probably just a silly coincidence. "Greetings, friends."
"Erm...hello?" The big-eyed man replied in typical Fereldian voice, gaze darting between the three before him, perhaps trying to guess who fitted in the least in Hightown, the crossbow-carrying dwarf, the woman looking like a prostitute or the Dalish in chainmail. Why is she even wearing that now? I thought I'd paid the Coterie to stay off her back without her noticing...better check the local alienage thugs too, one or two might have been stupid, ah, if only they knew who I'm protecting from whom...
The other guard tightened his grip on his weapon though, looking like he'd been insulted. His accent was heavily Orlesian compared to the other man, though a hint of Nevarra slipped in. "State your business." He glanced at the two women at Varric's back, ever so slightly shaking his head. Ah, yes, I see how this might...look bad. "And be quick about it."
"I'm sorry, I meant no offence, it was presumptuous of me to call you friend, such titles are earned, not stolen like some cheap trinket." Varric made a deep bow, making sure to keep it in the Orlesian pattern to further confuse the hostile guard. Love doing that. When he looked up again, there was a decidedly stumped look on the guard's face as he tried to match the noble bow to the look of the dwarf before him. "I'm Varric Tethras, of the house Tethras. I'm a friend..." I'd like to think so, at least, hard to not do so after all we've been through. "...of your master and employer, Garrett Hawke...this is his mansion, is it not?" Varric assumed a confused look, making Isabela smirk. "I might have gotten my addresses wrong, but I do believe he knows I would come by to visit this week?"
The guard, now looking unsure, exchanged a glance with the slack-jawed Fereldian – looks like a bit of a moron, that other one, ah well, you take what you can get – then turned his head, never taking his eyes off the group as he shot a shout back. "Ser! Ser Bastile!" Ohhh...sounds solid.
The man that appeared from around one of the slowly growing walls looked every bit like one would expect an Orlesian chevalier to look like. His shortly cropped black hair contrasted sharply to a thick and oiled moustache. His impressive stature was covered in a black tunic with the Hawke heraldry on the front, the big sword strapped to his back showing a handle and cross-guard worn with wear. His face, while perhaps handsome once, was worn not just by age and weather, but marked by some old burn along his jaw, as well as sporting a broad and white scar across his nose and down along his left cheek. The man was walking with a limp, supporting himself on a white cane which Varric instantly realised held a hidden blade within. That is a dangerous man, but is that good or bad? The way he held himself though, despite the limp, was with pride, and the gaze he shot the three visitors was one of stoicism, refusing to show his opinion so soon as he turned to the shouting guard. "Yes, Orwell?" His accent was as Orlesian as it could get, but with a clipped quality to it.
"This man claims to be Varric Tethras...I...weren't we supposed to let-"
"Yes, yes you were." The large man instantly replied, narrowing his eyes at the guard, who – to his credit – remained where he stood. "So why isn't he in already?"
"W-well Ser, the other two..." The guard nodded at the trio before them.
"I see, good work." Bastile's eyes, hard and grey, swept past Varric and to Merrill...and though his face remained passive, there was a hint of disapproval in his eyes that Varric could just make out. Orlesians and free elves, like oil and water...but he's not insulted her yet, I give him that. "Name?"
"M-Merrill?" The elf replied, looking unsure enough to make Varric wonder if she actually had forgotten her name.
The man that Varric by now just knew had to be a chevalier – perhaps retired due to his limp – looked at the elf for a moment longer, gauging her reply, then nodded and turned his gaze to Isabela. "And you, mademoiselle?"
Isabela pulled back at the Orlesian word, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she purred her answer. "Isabela...Serah..."
The man didn't react in the slightest to the suggestive tone of the purr, his eyes narrowing, yet otherwise blank, making Varric realise Garrett likely hadn't put her on some list for people to let in. After a glance at Varric though, the man offered a short nod and took a step to the side. "Welcome in, then. Forgive my guards, but they are doing their job, Serah Hawke has made it abundantly clear he expects us to run a..'tight ship', is the term he used, I believe." There was a hint of approval in the man's voice at that, then he gestured up at the palace. "I'm sorry, but I'm needed here. Please, go on in and you'll likely find Serah Hawke in the main hall, if not, one of the servants can show you the way, I'm sure."
"Thank you, appreciated." Varric offered a simpler bow this time, more of a nod of his head, and as he had guessed, the man offered a respectful nod back. You never know with the Chevaliers, half expect every courtesy of a nobleman, the other half is iron...no surprise which type Garrett went with, really. With Isabela and Merrill in tow, Varric marched on, up the gentle slope, past men and women working on the garden, and towards the palace.
Despite his rather blasé way of viewing the world and people in general...Varric had to admit the palace was...impressive. Not as much heart as my private place in the Hanged Man, but I can see the...appeal. Before them, the high roof of white marble depicted various scenes of riding knights with fluttering pennons, the roof jutted out from the house, shielding a large patio whose white railing moulded into a few thin pillars of bronze-coloured basalt, polished to a shine. The high set of oaken doors in black framed by an arch of white marble Andraste's graces was closed and flanked by two female guards, and there was the unmistakable sound of work escaping through them, making Varric raise an eyebrow. Damn, two months and still not done?
Moving up the three steps needed to reach the edge of the patio, the two guards, halberds resting against the floor, moved in sync, opening the door for the group. Though while their faces remained impassive, there was clearly puzzlement in their eyes as they darted over the group. They just need to get to know me, in a week or so, I'll be known by all and know them in turn... Varric was good with people, after all.
His thoughts on that matter swiftly faded though, as he moved past the doorway and let his gaze sweep over the interior.
The room they were in was large enough to swallow Varric's entire apartment. The polished floor was grey, but a fresco depicting a black dragon's head at its centre made exquisite detail and seemed to look up at the group. On the right, a desk of oak ran along the length of the room, a pair of men in rough clothing were behind it, busy tearing down a worn-looking closet large enough to fit the coats for a hundred people as orderly piles of dark-brown wood lay on the bench, ready to be shaped into a new one.
Above, the light from a single round window in the centre of the high round ceiling bathed the chamber in light, illuminating a ceiling covered in murals done primarily in blue and white, making it seem like one was outdoors, looking up at the sky.
Maker, Garrett sure has upgraded from Gamlen's sty...
Further ahead, there was a large archway leading into the main hall, and though Varric could only see part of it, it was enough to make him raise an eyebrow. The floor was pristinely white, the walls equally so, yet mostly concealed behind gilded support-columns and rows upon rows of paintings. Maker, I never thought Garrett would spend a fortune on something like that... There was also a pair of stairs running parallel to one another up on each side of the room at its far side. Atop the mezzanine they reached, Leandra was standing in a deep red dress, directing a small army of servants carrying all from furniture to cutlery and books back and forth. She looked stressed, stressed and with a somewhat forced smile on her lips, a smile not quite reaching her eyes. At least she's embracing being a noble again...tough, those Hawkes. Varric wasn't sure he bought the woman's appearance though. She's trying to hide the pain, probably from herself...
The woman didn't notice them, nor did the man striding into their room from the main hall, his burgundy vest with golden buttons and beige trousers making him look every inch the nobleman he'd now become. "Yes, you wanted to ask something?" Garrett's voice was strained, betraying a hint of stress, but other than that it was the usual Hawke, confident and collected to the core. "I don't have a lot of...Varric?" Garrett turned his head, looking at the dwarf, the tiniest of smiles creeping to the corner of his lips, though as with Leandra, it didn't reach his eyes. Blinking, Garrett turned back to the two workers. "You can continue with this later, I believe they need help in the kitchen too, if you don't mind."
The two workers exchanged a glance, shrugged and grunted something under their breath as they picked up their tools and walked out the way Garrett had entered.
The man's attention was on his guests, his smile turning a little more genuine, though yet again, it seemed to lack a spark. "Varric, Merrill, it's been too long, friends." He looked over to Isabela...and to Varric's surprise he even had a smile in him for her. Well, at least he's not a wreck...? "Isabela, it's been a long time, good to see you."
"Awww, I don't get a 'friend'?" Isabela feigned a pout. "I'm hurt."
"Do not take it too harshly, you get what you earn." Garrett smile became a little strained. "I'm not throwing you out or checking my silverware, am I?"
"Maybe you should." Varric chuckled as he interrupted whatever Isabela was about to say, not about to have Isabela and Garrett's first meeting since the expedition turn sour. "I mean Maker, Hawke, with all this stuff...you must have spent the majority of your share already."
"I've invested most of it as wisely as I can..." Garrett replied...and the other three looked over his shoulder in time to see a chandelier large enough to require four carriers move by at the instructions of Leandra. Before them, Garrett stiffly refused to notice it, a haunted look flickering by in his eyes. "...my mother is a different matter, however."
"She's just trying to find her roots again, get back to being a noble..." Varric replied, giving a reassuring smile even as he winced in sympathy, understanding how Garrett and his mother were trying to cope. Isabela and Merrill, however, did not grasp that, their titter making Garrett take a calming breath. "...but wow, talk about some investments, I've heard all about them...not about to go down the path of Gamlen, are you?" Garrett tilted his head to the side, giving Varric an insulted look that made the dwarf dutifully chuckle. "I didn't think so!" He shot a glance left and right. "Where is the old sod anyway?"
"Probably down in the wine-cellar." Garrett replied, then a little smirk actually worked itself to the corner of his lips. "The empty wine-cellar...not that he's not trying hard to find something I've 'hidden'...and no, Isabela, there's nothing actually hidden there."
"Wasn't about to ask..." Isabela snorted. "And I'm just surprised you let him stay here, not scared he'll waste your fortune away?"
"He's on a...stipend." Garrett replied, shifting where he stood.
Merrill was the first to snicker. "Y-you...gave him an a-allowance...?"
Isabela burst out laughing, doubling over and making a passing servant flinch away from the doorway he was passing. As Isabela did so, Varric was wryly eyeing Garrett. "Probably out of necessity, all those investments, this house being put into order...how much money do you have left, exactly?"
Garrett stretched to his full height, looking slightly insulted, the stress in his eyes clear. "Enough, and I'll get more." He shrugged when Varric arched an eyebrow. "I knew reaching for nobility would be expensive, but not quite how expensive...investments must be made if this position is to be held. I know what I'm doing though."
"Yes..." Varric tilted his head a little, offering a smirk. "...heard all about your expedition..."
To his credit, Garrett looked guilty for a brief moment, then he straightened, probably having gone through what he was going to say...the man was nothing if not thorough. "Yes, I know how it might look, you are still my partner in discovering the Thaig, and are as such entitled to half of what's down there. However, given my investments in this next expedition, I must ask of you, if you want a part of what the expedition brings back, to invest-"
"Relax, Garrett, just messing with you." Varric held up his hands, stopping Garrett's speech with a smile. "I have all I want, it's yours to do with as you want."
"Ah, okay...good." Garrett looked surprised, then pleased, offering a courteous nod, moved to offer his hand, then thought better of it and nodded again, looking somewhat awkward. This social bit somewhat...new to you, is it? "I was going to tell you sooner, but...well...you see yourself." He gestured at the mess of activity behind him, again, visibly struggling to maintain his smile.
"Ah, yes, I can see." Varric nodded, then hesitated, too many bad memories coming up as he recalled the dim twilight that had been the Thaig. "You don't worry...losing the entire expedition? I admit I don't know fully how many mercenaries you have, but there was an awful lot of those...things."
Garrett's face froze, what pale smile he'd managed dying, both him, Merrill and Varric casting their eyes down, as if seeing the terrifying Thaig somewhere underneath their feet. Yet surprisingly, Garrett was the first one to shake off the horrifying images, his tone calm and assertive, sure of himself as only a man who'd gone through the facts a hundred times could be. "Our fault that time was our lack of numbers and being hit when we were unprepared. I have the entire Red Irons mercenary gang assisting with skirmishing and drawing out the demons into the open, I have two hundred mercenary pikemen from the Anderfels hired on, as well as fifty Orlesian halberdiers, they'll turn the plaza into a funnel and slaughter the demons as they come. If that isn't enough, I have two...specialists hired on through Anders' help, they'll make these mercenaries even more potent." Varric arched an eyebrow. Even careful about mentioning magic in his own home, his guard hasn't gotten rusty at least, that's for sure. "Plus, I even hired on Samson – the retired Templar, if you recall – to assist...I believe a Templar would do wonders versus demons, don't you?" Garrett moved a hand up to stroke a stubbled chin, voice a low mutter as his tired eyes turned glassy. "In fact, I might keep him around after that, with the Templars dominating Kirkwall, he might prove...useful..."
Varric and Isabela were staring at him with wonder, the later speaking what was on their mind. "You've hired...over two hundred mercenaries?" The expense for mercenaries is high enough for odd jobs, for something big like an expedition...Varric knew there was good reason for Bartrand hiring on as few as possible.
"I do things right." Garrett shrugged, then shot Varric an apologetic look, considering what he was implying. Varric only shrugged in return, he wasn't about to think about his foolish brother if he could help it. "But yes, it's expensive, which is why they're leaving tomorrow...I expect it to be a success and it'll clear out the Thaig for cheaper expeditions in the future. Not that this is the end of it all. I fully intend to move into the business of trading and mining here in Kirkwall, there's a lot of coin to be made there, especially if you have an initial source of wealth like the Thaig."
"Ah, lots of plans, lots of gold...what are you going to do with all that?" Isabela licked her lips.
Garrett frowned at her, then shrugged. "I will use it to secure my position in Kirkwall, to give my family all they could wish for." A shadow fell over his face. What's left of it. Then it was gone in a flash, replaced by a the smile stuck to his lips like a mask. "My family will be the safest and strongest in Kirkwall by the time I'm done, I assure you."
"Ah, interesting, figured you wouldn't sit on your laurels..." Varric grinned as best he could, willing to help distract the man. I foresee new tales in the future. "But keep talking like that, and people might start worrying you'll try to become Viscount!"
"Anything's possible." Was Garrett's reply, his non-committal shrug saying more than anything else he might have done. Holy... Varric stared at the man, torn between being impressed and worried over his friend's growing ambition, considering he was still such a small fish among the nobles.
Before Varric could comment though, Merrill finally exploded. "This place is amazing! Look at the ceiling! And the walls! And the colours! Oh but there's too few...oh but I like those paintings over there! And that dragon on the floor looks like it's alive!" Varric and Isabela exchanged a grin before looking to Merrill's excited face and bouncing feet. Even Garrett smiled, though his smile wasn't really amused, rather patient and surprisingly friendly. Guess she earned a lot of points with helping with Bethany's funeral if he actually listens to half of that wordstorm... "And did you notice that one figure in the ceiling? I think that's an elf but not a Dalish elf, yet not a city elf either, who was the artist making it? And how many rooms are there here? Have you found a use for them all? Are they all as pretty as this one?"
For a moment, silence reigned in the wake of Merrill's questions.
The elf began to turn red as Varric and Isabela continued to grin at her.
Then Garrett took a step to the side and gestured towards the next room, bowing his head slightly as he did so. "Would you three like a tour?"
"Oh! That sounds fun!" Merrill jumped at the offer, then stopped, looking a little unsure. "Errr...where's Carver by the way...?" Isabela chuckled as Varric rolled his eyes, it was all too obvious why Merrill worried about having to be around that man...
The only one not amused was Garrett, his smile finally crumpling, his posture stiffening. "He's not here at the moment..."
Huh...?
8
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8
Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for all the blood and tears.