The Imperial Palace-Viewing Gallery
Durnham moved his hand forward, picking up one of the pieces…a small pawn, and moving it forward two places. He steepled his fingers and gazed up at Benjamin Trevelyan.
The Inquisitor was too busy pacing to really pay attention to the board.
"Your move Benjamin," Durnham said when it was clear the Inquisitor was not going to sit down and participate.
"Why?" Benjamin asked instead of playing the game, either of them.
"Because those are the rules," Durnham said grinding his hands together slightly, rubbing the fingers against each other.
"I was talking about why you are here, what you are doing."
Durnham chuckled, "So was I."
Benjamin glared at him.
Durnham sighed. "This is how the game is played. How all games are played. I make a move, you make a counter move. Do you trust yourself and the Inquisition to go blow to blow against me? Can you save everyone and ensure the world does not spill into 'chaos'? Is Chaos exactly what this world needs, to grow, to evolve?"
Benjamin continued his pacing, up and down. Still watching Durnham. I am not usually like this, I guess he has really gotten under my skin.
"I do admire you Inquisitor," Durnham blurted suddenly, Benjamin's eyes swiveled to his locking on. His blue eyes piercing into Durnham's. "Your Inquisition survived, survived everything I could throw at it…you should be proud."
Benjamin smiled lowly. "I am rather proud of my people, yes. But if you admire me so much then why are you trying to get us all killed?"
"Because you are an impediment to, everything. You and Celene."
"Is that why you want to kill them? And us?" Benjamin pressed.
Durnham clapped his hands together and his brows furrowed in puzzlement. "Kill? Want to?" He sighed. "No I do not want to. But Celene, the Inquisition, you are all impediments. You put the world back to how it was before. Instead of changing things you ensured the status quo. Despite the opportunity that was provided to you by the fates, by Corypheus, maybe by the Maker himself…you did nothing. You did not change the world."
He sighed leaning back in his chair. Looking at the board, one hand banging off his lip. Benjamin studied it. Part of his mind began working on the problem too, working on the game. Part of it working on the larger game involved.
"You were the Herald of Andraste, supposed to usher in a new age…congratulations." He remarked dryly.
Benjamin still said nothing. Not rising to the occasion, or the bait.
He snorted, "You know playing chess might be the perfect way to mirror the game outside. After all, everything in Orlais is a game. Mirrors upon mirrors, wheels upon wheels. They play, have their little distractions. As the world burns. As people die and suffer…you want to blame me for murdering people…take a good long look at the people who you protect!"
Benjamin smiled slightly, "Is that why you do it? To protect people? You kill, by protecting people?"
"Isn't that what you do?" He pressed.
"In Combat." Benjamin emphasized. "I put out the fires, I do not start them."
"I-!" Durnham leapt up from his chair before slamming his hands on the table before him. The chess pieces rattled on the board. It seemed to freeze him in place. "It's your move Inquisitor." He smiled, predatorily.
Benjamin smiled lightly, really a smirk, approaching the table he picked up the knight, and put it to a place three spaces away.
The game had begun.
The Grand Cathedral
The room was dead quiet. All the parties, the revilers, and the gossip instantly ceased to be.
All that was left was the deadly dance and ripostes of clashing metal on metal. It echoed through the great hall, as the Inquisition's forces, the Divine's guards, and the 'enemy agents' engaged in pitched combat in the middle of the floor.
A different kind of dance.
Brandon pivoted on his right foot swinging his blade from left to right, then left again in a giant spinning windmill, keeping two of his opponents at bay.
But we are badly outnumbered. He thought to himself.
Yet something was wrong here. These people seemed to be incompetent, and weary, conservatively pressing their advantage. But wasting time in the doing.
What are they playing at? Even if they weren't good…it would be bloody for them, but they could probably rush it.
Brandon had little time to think though as one of his assailants thrust a short sword in his direction. He barely had time to bring his sword down slamming it across in a desperate parry.
And another thing, they keep on trying to draw us off, every time I think about something they just press the attack again.
He decided to go on the offensive smashing his shield up and against the man's sword, and then swinging his swords in two quick cuts across his abdomen. The opponent did a marvelous job defending, parrying, and riposting against all three strikes.
Maybe they aren't even that incompetent.
The Imperial Palace
Cassandra Pentaghast was off to the side of the dance floor. Watching the crowd. As they drifted on past. No knowledge that their lives could be under peril by someone in the crowd, one of their own could be responsible for killing them all.
Yet one mask looked vaguely similar to the next, to her untrained eyes.
She was a noble, yes. Someone from Nevarra, yet she hated her upbringing and did everything she could to escape it. Even when her very upbringing helped her get a leg up in her line of work. This place, it was still foreign to her. Seeming so petty when compared to her normal life. She may've grown up in a gilded cage, but these people had their bars built quite high all on their own. They did this to themselves. The masks just another layer from the world. It seemed foreign to her when her own country's habits made them look…moronic.
Yet it was here she was supposed to come up with the answer to the problem, divine the nature of the assassin. In truth, Benjamin wouldn't have been much better at this then she was…but at least back in Halamshiral he was actually there.
"I see the Inquisitor went somewhere else, hunting."
Varric's voice made her jump nearly out of her skin. She eyed the Dwarf wearily. "And what makes you think he has gone anywhere?"
"The fact that he is not close to you, by you. Hanging off of your every…word." He said.
The Seeker rolled her eyes and snorted.
Then she eyed him up for a second. "Any insights into this whole mess? Why are we waiting around here?"
"Me!" Varric laughed, "Aren't you the mighty Seeker?"
Cassandra frowned. Then she smiled lightly. "You were right Varric, I am not exactly the best at Seeking. I let Hawke slip through my fingers. And I could not lead the Inquisition. I am a follower Varric, I am not a leader…it's time to accept who I am."
Varric snorted.
Cassandra eyed him for a second wondering where he was going. As he hobbled away, from the crowd.
Finally he turned back. "I do not think you give yourself enough credit Cassandra. There would be no Inquisition without you. And sure, Benjamin may have saved us all but who saved him?"
She smiled lightly, "I think he saved himself."
"No, it was you, well both of you…you two complete each other."
Cassandra nodded at Varric and then smiled, casting a conspiratorial look around the assembled. "So, who do you think is responsible? Which one do you think will do it?"
"I don't know," Varric whispered, "but I know we are in a position to find out."
The Gallery
Benjamin Trevelyan watched as Durnham moved up one of his pawns, threatening one of his bishops, and perhaps, if he was lucky, his queen. Is this all a part of the plan or is the game just a game?
Benjamin looked around the room.
Durnham steeped his fingers. "You know what your problem is Benjamin Trevelyan? What the entire problem of your Inquisition is?"
Benjamin snorted, "This should be good."
"You are academics. You are an academic. You are not men of action. You, nor Cassandra, nor Dorian, nor Varric. You wait, and you read, and prefer the world to act around you. I was once like you."
"Do you really believe you can change the world? By acting on it, by assassinating major world powers and sending the world back to chaos?"
"No one grows without feeling uncomfortable about it, you should even know that. And for centuries the Chantry, the South, even the North have felt comfortable. Sure, the occasional blight, the Qunari threat, but nothing has shaken the established order to its core. People die each and every day, people are traded like meat in a Qunari market, yet we don't do anything about it because the nobles have to worry about is who stepped on who's dress at the winter ball."
"And so what? You'll start a war? Make sure everyone is fighting everyone else so you can move in? Where is the sense in that action? How many people will die? And in war most powers usually clamp down on their power, governments hold onto power like a mother bear protecting its cubs. Millions will die. Many of the Cheviliers will see the alienage's burn rather than give the Elves power, and who knows what will happen with the limited freedoms mages have gained."
"But what about the end of the journey? With the powers fighting each other we can build networks, resistance, and people can seize their freedom for themselves."
Benjamin sighed and twirled around. He moved his bishop, out of harm's way. This was Durnham's game. At least for the moment. But if he's here.
His eyes froze, looking at the board. "If you are here how are you going to assassinate anyone? And you aren't Ferelden? You will hardly be able to start a war with anyone just sitting here, with your Ferelden accent."
Durnham froze while he was still reaching for the board to make his next move.
"So, there is another is there?" Benjamin grinned savagely.
"But we will see if your people can find mine," Durnham said moving his knight, "before we strike."
Benjamin moved his queen. "I have faith in them." He took Durnham's Knight.
Durnham frowned.
The grand ball room.
Cassandra was continuing to watch the dizzying display of dancers. They were off to the side looking Varric was huddled around her. An idea was slowly starting to form in her head. Her eyes locked onto a small group of people, currently looking just as out of place as the Inquisition's agents.
"You know if I were to start a war…wouldn't it make sense…that I used the people I wanted to start the fight. That way there would be no doubt."
Varric's eyes swiveled around dramatically, "Teagan?!" He said incredulously, "Why would he be involved with Durnham's plot? After all Ferelden sacrificed in their negotiations with Orlais, with what good King Alistair sacrificed, and they would all throw it away?"
"They may not have much of a choice," Cassandra murmured.
Varric closed his eyes, wincing, and "Blood magic?"
"Blood magic."
The decision sent Cassandra stalking across one side of the hall. Varric went the other way, hanging back. His hand inching over towards Bianca if need be. Cassandra walked slowly, keeping her eye nailed on the Ferelden delegation, most of them…unlike the Orlesians and even most of the other representatives from far flung nations…kept off the actual dance floor. Looking awkward and uncomfortable.
Not deadly.
And yet they are isolated.
It took her a moment to move around the dance floor and towards the group. The Arl turned and gave her a contemplative look.
"Arl Teagan." She greeted with a slight, though respectful, bow of the head.
"Seeker Pentaghast, I am sorry I did not get to meet you, or thank you personally for the Inquisition's efforts at Redcliffe."
Cassandra smiled graciously. "It is true we helped. But we also had to get the mages for the breach."
"Ah so it wasn't a kindness," Arl Teagan smiled lightly, he rose his glass and took a drink, "Still, everyone benefitted in the end."
Cassandra nodded, feeling a slight heat rising up in her cheeks at the compliment, and what she had to delicately accuse the Arl of. She didn't believe for a second he was actually responsible, he was still the most likely answer.
"Arl Teagan, there is a plot to murder the Empress tonight…we think-"
The Arl arched a wry eyebrow, "What another one? We heard about what happened at the Winter Palace, even in backward Ferelden."
She chuckled lightly, "Yes, another one."
The Arl's eyes narrowed, "And you think Ferelden will be behind it?"
"I-"
"Why would we sacrifice everything we have gained in such a plot," He hissed, obviously trying to not draw attention by shouting.
"Please, Arl Teagan." Cassandra's eyes widened and she stammered, "I did not mean to suggest your involvement personally, we believe blood magic to be involved."
Teagan sighed, "It always comes down to that doesn't it?"
"It does."
His back stiffened. "We will try and help with the investigation in any way possible. I will…discreetly…begin questioning the staff."
Cassandra nodded understanding the political dangers of the situation, "I understand, if it can be avoided the Empress will never hear about the plot, you have my word."
The Grand Cathedral
His armor was rent, but he was still holding his own. His cheek was cut, and yet he held his sword up in a parry, facing off against one of the last guards opposing him.
Brandon Durrow brought his sword up in a swinging block, bashing the enemy's strike out of the way and then flipped in in an expert riposte taking off his opponent's head at the neck.
One of his people shot a bolt through another one of the remaining guards.
And Cole finished off still another with a slash across his neck.
Brandon looked around as him and the Inquisition forces again formed into a circle of defense. Mutually supporting themselves in the event of further attack. Yet none seemed to be materializing.
There perimeter was secure, yet a sudden spike of dread ran through Brandon's heart.
Where's the Divine!
He spun around as if on the ball of his foot to see Victoria crawling backwards from the leader of their opposition. Who somehow had survived their entire attempts to kill her?
The woman was limping, yet it was in a fast determined pace. She would reach her far sooner than it would take any of the Inquisition soldiers to swing into action... unless
He threw his sword aside and charged the woman. Tackling her around her waist and throwing her to the ground.
It was a desperate move and one liable to get him…
The woman reacted with impossible speed given her injuries and plunged a dagger into his heart. He gasped and a small shuddering breath escaped his mouth. He could feel the shaft of metal sticking from him, tearing up his insides even more as he toppled back.
But it was enough, more than enough. As he toppled he saw Cole leap out of a burst of smoke, and plunge both of his daggers into the target. One through the neck, and the other through the head.
The woman coughed, pathetically, her breath came out as a gasping gurgle before she too toppled over, quite dead, quite instantly.
A rush of footsteps swirled around him, several people came around him. Some of the Inquisition's guards surrounded him, facing outwards, protecting him, and Cole leaned over him.
"I…cannot help." The spirit said. "This hurt is not mental it is physical."
"Well maybe I can," Vivienne shoved him out of the way, and crawling on all fours approached Durrow, she crouched over him and began waving her hand over him. He twitched as magic rushed into him.
But he could tell it was not enough. His limbs were becoming numb, the wound would not close, and the life was slowly pouring out of him.
"No! If only this once you will serve me." Her hands glowed again, a sickly green, and again her hands slammed down on the wound.
Brandon doubled over, he hacked, his body rolled in renewed pain, and the wound was not close.
"No! The Knife…it's a magical impediment!" She said, she took the knife out, and flung it aside.
Brandon's eyes began fluttering close. He knew it was far too late. And he smiled, content in the knowledge.
At last, I have done my duty.
The Grand Gallery
Durnham made his next move, the Inquisitor was slowly losing ground. But it was all according to his plan. His knight was captured, but soon, unless he missed his guess he would be able to checkmate the former Templar.
He tapped his fingers together.
"So say you win, hip hip, war, the elves are able to free themselves and form their own society…in the Dales I would assume? Halamshiral would again be the Capitol yes?"
His opponent said nothing.
Benjamin arched his head to his side, "haven't even thought that far ahead? Well, then assume you get everything you want who will be leading them? What will their laws and policies be? Who says that the Dalish, or City Elves, once they are free won't just start this all over again? Who knows what they will do with their new found freedoms?"
"I have to have faith-"
"Faith?" Benjamin laughed, "You have faith? In what? Not the Templars, or the Chantry…so that rules out the Maker…do you have faith in the people around you? Have you ever had faith since that day when you stepped into that barn?"
"And who do you have faith in?" Durnham shot back, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
"In my people," Ben returned without hesitation, "in the people around me, in the Maker that his laws are righteous ones. I have faith that eventually things balance out, that with a million small actions we will start an avalanche which will swipe aside the stem of tyranny that has dominated Thedas for so long, and we will change the world, without the blood shed you mean to do. The Inquisition is a start, this summit is a start, and you seek to disrupt it."
Durnham finally moved his piece, and Benjamin wanted to grin at the result.
"Your move Inquisitor."
"Indeed it is."
The Imperial Palace
The investigation, such as it was, was going nowhere, without the ability to question the suspects directly it was all just a waste of time. And they couldn't do that without raising suspicion from the very people they meant to save.
Cassandra made a disgusted grunt wanting to throw her hands up in the air as she stalked away.
"This is pointless." She sighed.
"Hey take it easy, calm down Seeker. You can do this, you must do this. We need a new angle." Varric came up behind her and put a hand on her back.
"We just do not have enough time, we have no idea who out of the dozens members of the delegation could be involved, nor how they will attack, nor what the trigger point will be," Cassandra's eyes widened slightly, "Trigger point," Her eyes swept up, "Time."
"Seeker?" Varric asked.
She bit her lip, the wheels working in her head. "Tell me Varric, you're an author? To make the biggest impact on your audience, when would you strike?"
"Simple, when there is the most exposure, after all they want exposure." Varric explained.
"Exactly, and would you trust someone to get a war started who has a stake, a motive, or someone who is completely innocent? Who does not hold a grudge? After all if someone has no grudge it will be harder to pass off as the actions of one deranged man, and not that of an entire plot?"
Varric's eyes widened but he smiled dramatically, "Why Cassandra, I do believe you are getting good at this politics stuff."
Cassandra snorted, "Watch it Dwarf. Go, keep an eye on the Empress. All we have to do is wait for our target to come to us, again…drama."
The two of them separated, one of them moving one way, across where Celene was about to give her speech officially starting off the negotiations. Each of them watching for any threat. It was a gamble, but Cassandra was hinging on one lone assassin appearing.
One woman slowly crept up behind the Empress, seemingly unbidden. Her gown was long and flowing silver. Her hair went all the way down her back, her face silky white.
But there was just enough room at her side for a concealed pouch, one where her hand was slowly inching towards it.
"Varric!" Cassandra yelled.
Several gasps and the swishing of cloaks greeted her pronouncement as she rushed forward, drawing her sword with from its sheath with the tell-tale grinding of metal on leather.
The sound of Bianca firing barked through the air.
The woman took the hit, it was a concussive bolt, spinning her down on the floor. She fumbled with her dagger in her pouch as it fell to the floor. Cassandra reached her and pinned her arms before she could get it.
"No!" The woman screamed. "I must reach the Empress, I must KILL, the empress. Kill, kill, kill."
"Why woman, snap out of it!"
Murmurs broke out behind her, the crowd was pressing in, getting restless.
Cassandra could make out few of the words. Most of them consisted of "She's a Ferelden? A Ferelden tried to kill the Empress?"
"She is not in control of her actions! She is under a blood mage spell, a binding ritual, she is not responsible, and nor is Ferelden!" Cassandra said.
"Believe her, why would Ferelden do this?" Tegan exclaimed rushing forward.
"I am inclined to believe them, but, if so, then we have a blood mage in our midst," Celene said, "search the Imperial Palace, root out all the traitors."
Her guards snapped to attention and went.
The Grand Gallery.
Durnham jolted up when he heard a commotion downstairs, yelling, shouting, and the scuffling of feet.
"Looks like the game is up," Benjamin mused.
"We don't know that," Durnham said, but even he sounded worried.
"Would they be rushing up the stairs if the Empress were dead?" Ben pointed out.
The Templar grunted. "Well, I guess that does it." He said stalking over to the door as he placed his hand on it, a click met Ben's ears.
"Come on Durnham, give up, even if you manage to kill me, the entire Imperial Palace is after you, and the Inquisition."
"But, without you, maybe the world can take its proper shape." Durnham drew his sword, keeping himself between Benjamin and the door.
"I see," Benjamin said. "Well, I see you got me at a disadvantage. Would you really kill an unarmed man?"
"I have learned, to never underestimate mages." He replied. "You are never unarmed."
Benjamin nodded, and on the down arc of his head he jolted out of his chair, it spilling out behind him.
Durnham brought his sword up and Ben swung his Knight Enchanter blade up in a blind swing, a reverse grip on his Spirit blade. It blazed out green in the dull night time light of the surroundings.
The two weapons sparked together dramatically. Ben ran his blade along that of Durnham's, but the Templar realized what he was trying to do and swung his sword away, breaking contact and spinning away from the Inquisitor.
Benjamin pressed his advantage bringing the blade up in a level straight up strike, moving his body, using it as the fulcrum to bash into his opponent, keeping the blade up as defense.
Instead Durnham reacted by concentrating on the blade, it snapped, breaking into a million pieces. The energy dissipated. The Inquisitor swung away from the upswing of Durnham's blade.
He brought the staff to hand, and danced back on one foot, electrifying the rod, and using it as his weapon.
Durnham continued to press forward his advantage, his sword came up and around, feinting left then going right.
Benjamin twirled his staff around knocking it to one side, and then spun around clockwise bashing the sword and batting it away. Durnham held it out to one side and came in high again, holding it in one hand.
The Templar nodded at Ben, and Ben held his staff out. The two of them clashed together. Benjamin swung his staff around, whacking the sword twice, sparks greeted danced around the contact point. He spun it around pressing his advantage, parrying and riposting where he could, and attacking where he couldn't. Keeping Durnham close.
His staff was just easier to maneuver in tighter corners then the Templars Great sword, who was used for bludgeoning. It also did not give Durnham any time to use his own powers.
Finally though he managed to get through Durnham's guard. Bashing him once in the face with the bland end of the staff, then the Templar enraged swung his sword in an arc. Benjamin leapt aside, batted the sword up, then twisted the staff blade around under the sword, and slashed it deep through the Templar's armor.
Durnham's eyes widened in shock, and Benjamin grunted.
They held that state for a manner of moments, staring each other down. Then Durnham smiled, blood gurgling around the fringes of his mouth. "Well congratulations, you beat me."
He slid off the blade and collapsed at Ben's feet.
He closed his eyes, "I'm sorry." He said.
After a moment he realized someone was banging on the door. It rattled, holding against those trying to get in. .
He sighed, giving the door a chagrinned look, and electing to open it. Letting the people in.
Cassandra came in and he collapsed into her arms, the both of them sharing the embrace.
Benjamin again left to contemplate the future.