Hawke, Carver, and Anders walked into the Hanged Man prepared to discuss some business with Isabela. As they made their way to her usual spot at the bar however, a suspicious looking woman approached them. "You two," she pointed at Hawke and Carver. "Fereldens?"

Carver looked at his sister. "Isabela said we had that look about us. What exactly does a Ferelden look like?"

"Apparently us," Hawke replied, returning her attention to the woman. "We are from Ferelden, yes. Can I help you with something?"

"Athenril said you might help me," she replied, and then moved in closer to speak in hushed tones. "Some raider captains are having secret meetings at night at the docks. The job is simple; break up the meeting and kill every one of the bastards."

Hawke sighed at hearing Athenril had been throwing her name around again. She was done working for the smuggler, had more than paid her dues. Why does she insist on throwing more work her way? Still, there was money to be made, and with the expedition only a week away, she didn't mind the extra coin. "That's not much to go on," Hawke stated. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

The woman handed Hawke a note with the details. "If you manage to eavesdrop on the meeting before you kill them," she said, "there'll be extra coin in it for you. When your mission is complete, come find me here."

Hawke nodded and moved away from the woman, settling into a table to wait for Isabela. "I think I know her," Anders told them when they were out of earshot. "I can't remember where, but I know I know her."

Carver smirked. "Some help you are," he said to Anders. "Are we really going to go take on a bunch of raiders because this woman said so? She didn't even tell us what they have done to deserve death as a punishment."

"Did I hear someone say raiders?" Isabela asked as she approached the table. "Have you spoken to Martin already?"

Hawke was now completely confused. "Martin? Unless he is suddenly dressing like a woman, no we haven't spoken to him."

Isabela grabbed a chair and turned it around before sitting in it back to front next to Carver. The blush on her brother's face was priceless, and Hawke found herself biting her tongue not to tease the poor boy on his crush. "Martin is who I wanted to talk to you about, and no he is not a woman. He's a raider, so when I heard you mention them I had assumed you already spoke to him."

"What a coincidence," Hawke said as she rubbed her temple. "I don't suppose he's at the docks is he?"

"Nope," Isabela answered cheerfully drinking the remainder of whoever's ale was left on the table. "He's upstairs in fact, but knowing Martin he'll probably need you to go to the docks."

Hawke perused the letter she'd received from the suspicious lady. There weren't as many details as Hawke would've liked to see. It only stated where to find the raider captains and at what time they met for the last few weeks. At least it was a pattern, one that was easy to follow. Not very bright. "Alright Isabela, let's go talk to your friend and see what we can do." As for the woman's request, Hawke decided she wasn't killing anyone until she had a little more information.

Dearest Father,

Usually when someone talks to me I try to give them my full attention. Here's a man, ex-raider, who claims to want to better his life. He's explaining to me that there is some cargo at the docks he needs to get his hands on and all I can do is stare at the rather large scar across his throat. Isabela said he was once a fearless dashing raider, but to me he just seemed like a broken, tired old man. Martin is his name, and he said the new raider leader gave him that scar when he tried to leave raiding. Apparently you can't; he was thrown overboard and left for dead.

What good is magic Father if it can not fix such things? We have the ability to repair broken bones, fuse muscles back together, stop internal bleeding and stitch together everything that makes a person live and breath. Why then can we not heal scars? I doubt the man would let me try, but there has to be a way, isn't there? Maybe if I could erase something he has to see every day, he would honestly try to do better? One more thing to add to the list I need to talk to Anders about. He's a very good healer, maybe he knows the answer.

Martin said that the raiders had some big plan for Kirkwall, and that soon they will be a problem. He didn't know any more, but at the time I thought it might have something to do with the meeting I was supposed to interrupt for that mystery woman. After Isabela did some sneaking around the docks late at night, we discovered Martin's cargo was right near the meeting place, so in one night I was able to finish two jobs.

The cargo was poison, used commonly by rogues such as Isabela. I let Martin keep it and open his store; after losing his ship just like Isabela did, I felt bad for him. Sure poison kills people, and Anders wasn't too pleased, but one day that poison in Isabela's hands may save my life, or Carvers, or any one of my friends. I feel like I am walking a fine line when it comes to morality lately Father, but you left me on my own, so I am doing the best I can.

As for the meeting of the raider captains, that did end up to be quite interesting. We left the warehouse just in time to catch them talking about sinking any Amaranthine ships that they come across. They also said that the Viscount's pardon came with strings; I didn't like the sound of that. Was he referring to our viscount? Why would Dumar pardon a bunch of raiders for destroying ships from Amaranthine? Anders said it probably had something to do with controlling the Waking Sea that runs between Kirkwall and Amaranthine. If the viscount was in league with the raiders, and the raiders controlled the water over Amaranthine, then Dumar would get a cut of every shipment coming into the Free Marches from Ferelden.

"Don't put Dumar as the bad guy," Anders said reading the letter over her shoulder. "Remember he doesn't really run this city."

"Alright fine," Hawke replied turning the letter over to prevent him from reading anything else. "Tell me then, why would the viscount pardon a bunch of criminals?"

Anders threw some coin on the table and picked up a card. "How well are you versed in Kirkwall history Hawke?"

"Here we go," Varric muttered under his breath as he folded his cards.

She laughed at Varric and settled in for a story. "Only what Mother has told me, which isn't much except for old noble gossip. Why?"

Anders leaned forward and began telling his tale. "Before Dumar, the viscount was a man named Threnhold. He fought hard against the templars when they tried to tell him how to rule the city; took the guard as his army and stormed the Gallows, arresting and executing the old knight-commander. Meredith and her men retaliated. Threnhold was sentenced by Grand Cleric Elthina herself, imprisoned for life, but died from a mysterious poisoning two years later. Elthina promoted Meredith as the new knight-commander, and together they have ruled the city ever since with Dumar as their puppet."

Varric shook his head but made no comment as Hawke processed what Anders had said. "So the Chantry and the templars are getting the cut from the sea trade?" she asked. "That has to be illegal, isn't it?"

"Sweet old Elthina," Anders said sarcastically. "Bet you never knew about her dark side. Whatever the Divine wants, she gets, and it trickles down from there."

Hawke turned to Varric. "Nothing to say?"

Varric shrugged. "Blondie has presented you with the facts. I can only add that it was Meredith who insisted Dumar take the viscount slot after Threnhold."

"Maker I hate politics," Hawke sighed as she folded her letter. "I don't suppose Dumar would admit to any of these charges?"

"Who would press them?" Anders asked. "The law in this city is the templars and the Chantry, no matter what Aveline wants you to believe. Wait and see Hawke; the raiders are only the tip of the iceberg of corruption around here. And it all stems from Elthina. There will be no peace with her and Meredith in their current positions."

Hawke didn't like the sound of that, but she had terrifying gut feeling that Anders was right.