Notes: A new subplot begins. Here's one of the major home-front antagonists, Harlan.

Song: Green Day - "Favorite Son"


Chapter 64: The Favorite Son


Cassandra's visit to Kirkwall had concluded on a rather frosty note. The Seeker had not approved of Caitlyn's resolve to "do what she must," or her abrupt embrace of her emergency war powers.

"I hope that you will take advice from the people around you," Cassandra had said coolly as she prepared for her departure. "War must be won not just on the battlefield, but on the home front too."

It had irritated Caitlyn, who had seen it as supercilious and condescending. As if I don't know that, she thought scornfully. It's just another example of someone giving what they think is extremely profound wisdom, when in truth it's facile and obvious. Anders' visible support, as he stood beside her with a defiant smirk on his face, affirmed her conviction that she had what she needed to succeed.

"You know," she remarked to him after the Seeker left, "we are the ones who actually managed to bring about change. We have accomplishments. They don't. They have ages of good intentions and nothing to show for it. It sounds proud and arrogant, I know, but it's true."

"It is true," he agreed. "You became Viscountess openly as a mage, you pushed reforms, you killed the Knight-Commander and got away with it... and you declared the Circle here independent, inspiring other rebellions."

"And they are apparently going to sit out this war. We're the leaders. It's gotten away from them. We set the course of it, and I see no reason to follow the advice of people who are officially neutral."

Anders turned to her and offered her his arm. His satisfied smile made him look so attractive to her in this moment that she suddenly wanted to pull him into a private corner and just have her way with him.

His grin broadened. "Copper for your thoughts?" he murmured knowingly.

She met his smirk with one of her own. "My thoughts will cost you more than that."

"Oh, will they?"

"I'm afraid so. More than gold, too. My thoughts are expensive."

"I think I understand how this works," he drawled. "You tell me your thoughts, and I pay you by acting them out. Is that right?"

They had just passed by a tearoom. Caitlyn's patience dissolved. With an aggressive tug, she pulled him into the room and shut the door hard.

But Anders was not going to let her lead things without challenge. In the very next moment, he had her pushed against that same door, trapped against the wood paneling, as he stared fiercely into her green eyes and pulled up her filmy silken gown to reveal her toned thighs.

"It'll have to be quick," he murmured, giving her a hard kiss on the side of her neck. "We're expected."

"We're always expected," she complained.

"You are, anyway. It's the downside of being Somebody."

Caitlyn stifled a groan as his nimble hands, Healer's hands, slipped into the band of her smallclothes. "You know," she murmured, letting him tug them down without a struggle, "there's something very smugly satisfying about going into a Small Council meeting fresh from ravishing each other." She took just enough control of herself to undo his belt and get her hands into his trousers. He was not completely hard yet, so soon had the urge come over them, but that was remedied in a matter of minutes.

It was a quick tryst, as they had known it would be, but a very satisfying one—as they often were when the surge of desire came over them suddenly and they immediately sated it without delay. In a matter of minutes, they found blissful release, clinging to each other for support as they swayed.

Finally they had to pull apart and put their clothes back in order. Caitlyn went to a small wall mirror in the room and laughed at her image.

"Look at what you did to my hair!" she scolded Anders. She tried to tame her red locks, unkempt from his fingers running through them wildly.

Anders merely shrugged. "You almost pulled mine down, so you can't complain much." He tightened the ponytail on the back of his head and smoothed the top of his hair. "You know, maybe we should go to the meeting looking like this—and defy the others to comment about it."

"Looking?" Caitlyn said. "We probably have a scent."

He smirked. "Probably. All the more reason to go. Mages should get to openly flaunt our romantic lives, our intimacies, just like anyone else."

Caitlyn laughed and shook her head. There was something appealing in his words, but she did want to get her hair in order. She was a Viscountess.


She and Anders took their seats, unlinking their arms only as they sat down. Caitlyn settled into her chair and gazed out, suddenly needing to catch her breath. Ser Marlein exchanged a knowing smile with Aveline. But it was Varric who spoke first after she brought the meeting to order.

"I know this isn't war-related," he said, "but it's something that came to my attention that I think you should know about. I've just heard something very interesting—and worrisome—about the Coterie."

Caitlyn sat at attention.

"You know that Lowtown shop, Lirene's?"

"You're not telling me that Lirene's is a Coterie shop!" Caitlyn exclaimed, horrified. Lirene was a Fereldan merchant who had managed charitable work for the Blight refugees years ago.

"It isn't, and that's the weird thing," Varric said. "It's legitimate, and its charity is legitimate too. I won't go into it unless you want me to, but Coterie 'charities' are false fronts for funneling money back into the organization itself. But Harlan just made a large donation to Lirene's to be disbursed to the poor."

"Why would he have done that?" Anders asked. He had a history with Lirene's himself. Lirene had directed needy refugees to his original clinic in Darktown.

"We don't know," Varric said grimly. "One thing you can rest assured of, though, is that Harlan doesn't do anything out of the goodness of his heart. He's a crime boss. He has an angle. We just don't know what it is yet."

"Lirene shouldn't have taken the coin," Caitlyn declared. "Whatever his agenda is, he's making her a tool of it."

"The Chantry would not have accepted donations from the Coterie," Petrice said coldly.

Anders gave the priest a hard look. "Better that it go to the poor than stay in Coterie coffers, though. Maybe Lirene sees it the same way."

Aveline spoke up. "She surely did, and you have a point, Anders. But the best way to get Coterie coin to the poor is for the city of Kirkwall to seize it and distribute it through public works."

"Then why don't you just arrest him?" Caitlyn said, exasperated. "If we all know he is a criminal, then why is he not in prison?"

"Because we'd need an active crime scene or a warrant, and we can't get the evidence required for that," Aveline replied. "That's how the Coterie works. The low-level thugs and sellers are the ones who take the risk of prison—or worse. Everyone knows that Harlan is the boss, but officially, and in his taxes, he is just a well-to-do mercantile shipper."

Caitlyn glowered. "This very Council voted to grant me increased powers. Perhaps I should order his arrest under those powers and take his money."

"I would strongly advise against that," Aveline said at once.

"Agreed," Varric said.

"Then what do you suggest?" she said impatiently.

"I suggest actually granting him and his mistress, Lusine, an audience in the Keep," Varric said. "Well-guarded, of course. But it's your territory, you control it, it's a statement that things will happen on your terms, and it would be a way to speak to them face to face. You'll stand a better chance of working out their agenda if you can have a long conversation with them."

Caitlyn sighed. Admitting an organized-crime boss and a brothel-keeper to the Keep! When she had become Viscountess, one of the things she had wanted to clean up in Kirkwall was its aristocracy's quiet tolerance, even collusion, with organized crime. She had made real headway with the smaller gangs and the slaving cartels, and the dwarven Carta was in dire shape after she had slain much of its Tainted membership in her pursuit of the ancient Tainted magister Corypheus. This meeting seemed a betrayal of her ideals.

But perhaps it had to happen. It would hardly be the first time that she had spoken with people she didn't like because it was a necessity.


Caitlyn did not have time to issue an invitation—or a summons, as she preferred to think of it—to the Coterie boss before other matters drew her and Anders' attention. She had told the Free Mages that she would visit them regularly to examine their conditions, talk freely with them, and hear any petitions they might have. They could send representatives to the Keep like any other petitioner, but Caitlyn wanted to do this for them because they faced challenges that most Kirkwallers did not. Since most of them had lived in Circles for most of their lives, they were only just now learning how to conduct regular lives for themselves, and Caitlyn and Anders cared about their progress.

Caitlyn had talked about this with Anders many times before, aware that their experiences were different, and more fortunate in this respect, than most mages'. She had never known the inside of a Circle and had grown up learning how to take care of herself. Anders had gone to the Circle later than most mage children, and he had escaped so often—and, in a few cases, for such a long time—that he had more independence than most Circle mages. When he had come to her family in Lothering, he had known how to forage for food safely and cook for himself. He had known to boil water unless he melted it from ice that he had cast himself. He had known how to tell directions by the sun and stars. He had known how to mend clothes. Those skills were the most critical for survival outside Circle walls. But other skills had been a mystery to him, even with his greater-than-usual awareness of life outside Circles. Caitlyn's parents had started to teach him a few things about parenting, farming, household budgeting, home maintenance...

She sighed. That simple future was long gone. Now, they'd had to master such skills as budgeting for an entire city, fighting crime, war strategy, battle tactics, political negotiations, balancing different people's interests, and—at the moment—leading a revolutionary movement while showing the rebels how to live in the world they hoped to build once the revolution was over.

Caitlyn felt a pain in her heart as she left Mal and Jo Beth with her mother, aware that Leandra loved every minute with her grandchildren, but regretting that she, the children's mother, was losing any of those minutes. From the pained look on Anders' face, she guessed he shared that thought.


To Caitlyn and Anders' approval, the mages had formed a council of their own, and its members were waiting to receive their leaders. This included Alain, Petra, Sketch, Caspar Waite of Markham—and Grace. Caitlyn was uneasy about that last appointment, as Grace had some unsavory proclivities. Well, they have to learn how to govern themselves, she resolved stoutly, and that might mean choosing leaders I don't like. She hoped they didn't expect her to duplicate their selections on her own War Council, though, because she wasn't going to do it.

"Your Graces!" Alain said, looking relieved to see them as they arrived at the Gallows. Perhaps he didn't like sharing a council with Grace either.

"Alain," Caitlyn greeted him. As the mages led the way to their assembly chamber, she sneaked glimpses of rooms. Over the past nine months, the Gallows had been transformed from the grim prison it had been when Meredith ruled. Work crews of mages and non-mages had affixed windows in all the bedrooms, and most of the bedrooms had in fact been made into apartments, with cooking and cleaning facilities, furniture for private meals and activities, and personal décor. The idea was that even those mages who wanted to live here would learn independent living. The halls were cleaned, walls painted, and the communal areas were much cheerier than they had been before.

The assembly chamber was the very same banquet hall that they had feasted in after the Battle of Wildervale, just with no food out. It was not at all like a prison hall now, but was a rather homey place. An enormous cask of ale—guarded, they noted with amusement—stood to one side. Cheerful candles and elemental crystals rested in wall sconces, plants and wall hangings filled the chamber with life and art, and curious magical artifacts rested here and there. Since the Battle of Wildervale, someone had even hung a chandelier. A huge hearth in the center and front of the room, always kept stone-cold under Meredith's regime, now crackled with roaring fire.

The mages didn't have to live here if they didn't want to—and many did not—but it was a very sturdy and secure building, and they were turning it into their own. Even those mages who did live in Kirkwall proper were pleased to visit the assembly chamber-banquet hall for group meetings.

"It's like a lodge for a fraternal order," Anders remarked, smiling in spite of the fact that this place had once been a repressive Circle.

Caitlyn smiled. "And how do you know about fraternal orders?" she teased.

"Varric!" he exclaimed. "Varric's told me all about the Merchants' Guild meetings. And you should read his books more. Have you even read Hard in Hightown, love?"

She smirked wryly. "I admit I dropped off as a reader. The protagonist was clearly based on me, but her story and my life diverged after a point."

"Well, Varric's books, my dear, are how I know about fraternal orders."

Their conversation subsided, as the assembly hall had several dozen mages sitting at benches—or, alternatively, standing up with eager, sharp looks on their faces, as if they had petitions for the Viscountess and Consort. Some of them looked rather angry. Caitlyn and Anders noticed that of the mages who were on their feet, most of them had split into what seemed to be two factions, each group glaring fiercely at the other.

"We're going to be asked to settle a dispute," Anders warned her quietly.

Caitlyn glowered down at the floor. "So it seems."

Petra, who seemed to be the mages' council leader despite that it had been Alain who greeted Caitlyn and Anders, called the assembly to order. "We're honored with the presence of our commanders, our leaders, our inspirations today," she said. "And because we don't want to take up too much of their time, I am going to call business to order at once. First, if the Viscountess or Consort has anything to tell us..."

Caitlyn shook her head. "We're here to listen to you."

"Thank you, Viscountess Hawke. In that case, all couples, step forward."

Caitlyn raised her eyebrows as, out of the large group of people, several couples shyly stepped out. Hmmm... most of them appeared to be two mages, but there were a few who were a mage and a non-mage...

"These are mostly longtime couples who kept their relationships secret in the Circles but now wish to get married," Petra explained. "Obviously, you did this... but... since Anders is a Grey Warden..."

Caitlyn interrupted immediately. "Anders and I were married in 9:32. Although the priest knew, I had to conceal from the world in general that I was an apostate then. But the Chantry didn't doctrinally ban marriage for mages, and it doesn't now either. If you want to get married, go to the Chantry like any other couple would and fill out the forms."

"Will the priests..."

"This Grand Cleric is the priest who performed my wedding. She has always been moderate about mages. She rules the Kirkwall Chantry with an iron fist and there will not be any priest subordinates defying her, I assure you." She softened her tone and smiled. "Congratulations to all of you, and Anders and I wish you joy! Go and get married!"

Several of the couples managed shy, slightly fearful laughs—but happiness still gleamed in their eyes. Anders took her arm and smiled at her.

Petra continued, notably happier. "The next item—Healers, step up."

Anders' attention was immediately on the next group that came forward.

"We'd like to open a clinic in the former Qunari compound next to Evelina's orphanage," the leader, a gray-haired elf, said. "Some people have trouble climbing the ramp to Hightown to get to the Keep or Chantry."

Anders only needed to exchange a momentary glance with Caitlyn to tell that she approved. "Your petition is granted," he said at once. "And that's an excellent point. My old clinic in Darktown served some populations that have a harder time getting to Hightown—or feel less welcome there."

The remaining petitioner mages, Caitlyn noted with dread, were the angry ones. One of them spoke out of turn. "Petra, are you going to bring our problem to Their Graces' attention, or just the nice things?"

Petra glared at her. "Your problem is next, Verena."

An older woman from the opposite group of angry mages then spoke up. "It isn't a problem! We're minding our own affairs and trying to be free! The only problem we face is that her group wants to shut us down!"

"You're exploiting other mages! You're hurting your fellow mages!"

"I'd say that mages who want to control other mages as soon as we obtain freedom are the problem!"

"Enough!" Caitlyn roared, slamming her staff on the ground. A wave of magical force rippled away from it, shaking the angry petitioners on their feet. She glared out furiously at them. "Silence, all of you! Petra—Alain—the mages' council. You explain what the issue is."

The council members all looked sour. Petra reluctantly spoke up. "Verena and Freda represent groups that have a dispute about mage-owned shops."

"What's to dispute?" Caitlyn snapped. "It's legal for mages to go into business and sell goods. As long as you follow Kirkwall law for commerce, and don't sell Tranquil-made products, it's legal." She glared at the angry petitioners. "Is there a question about something else?"

The young woman, Verena, spoke up again. "You dissolved the Circle shop. Some of us wanted to keep it, but run it ourselves."

Caitlyn exchanged a frustrated look with Anders. Some of them just cannot let go of their chains. "There is no 'Circle shop' anymore. There's no Circle. But all of you who wanted to run the Circle shop can start a big shop as a group and pool your resources and labor. That's perfectly fine under the law."

"You don't understand, Your Grace," the young woman protested. She glared at the others. "They don't want to join. They want to compete with us."

The older mage from that group, Freda, spoke up hotly again. "See, Your Grace? It's as I said. They want to control us. They want to force us into their revived Circle shop, which is what it is! We want to run our own shops."

"You want to be like any other greedy merchant. I know what you were in the Circle," sneered Verena. "Lucrosians. You just wanted gold."

"People would give us gold freely if they wanted to buy something from us. You would force us to surrender some of our freedom to you. You want the Circle shop back, just with you lot in charge of it rather than the Chantry!"

Anders could not stop himself from speaking up. "I avoided buying goods from Circle shops unless I had no choice," he said. "I knew which vendors in the marketplaces had apostate goods and gave my custom to them, because I wanted to support them rather than the Circles."

"This isn't like that," the young woman protested. "We're all mages."

He shook his head. He was certain that Caitlyn agreed with him, based on how irritated with Verena's group she seemed to be. "That's exactly why we're not going to force anyone to work for anyone else. Self-determination is part of freedom." He smiled faintly at the reminiscences. "In my apostate days, I always liked having coin of my own. It meant independence to me. Start your business, employ as many fellow mages as you like, but forcing other mages to work for you instead of themselves? No. You're all mages, but Loyalist First Enchanters are mages too. That doesn't mean you were free under them."

The Lucrosians looked smug as they realized that he was siding with them.

"This is a part of our newfound freedom, the chance to set our own course in life," he finished. "I won't have one set of chains exchanged for another, and those of you who seek to wrap chains around your fellows need to reconsider."

The Lucrosian group began snickering as their opponents muttered in discontentment. Caitlyn spoke up. "No gloating," she commanded. "I stand by every word my husband said. That's the final decision. Employ as many mages as you like and distribute the profits among yourselves as you please, but nobody will be forced to work for you." She paused. "I will say this much. I want to encourage legitimate commerce in Kirkwall as a foil to the Coterie."

"The Coterie?" Verena repeated.

"Yes. I have received word that the Coterie is taking increasing interest in Lowtown, for some reason. That can't be good, so I wish all of you success in your endeavors. Every business that is not Coterie means less power and wealth for that organization."

"Exactly," Anders agreed. "You're right about the idea that we mages should stick together against threats, but that doesn't mean that every mage has to hold exactly the same views on every point. In fact, if we're united despite differences, that unity is even stronger than one based on force."

The mages' council exchanged looks among themselves. Petra was visibly relieved that this unpleasant policy dispute was resolved, and Caitlyn noticed that her eyes seemed to gleam at her own mention of the Coterie. Has Harlan been trying to get his claws into my mage army too? she thought, the very idea making her angry.

Petra cleared her throat. "If no one else has a petition for Their Graces, this assembly is dismissed. We need to speak with Their Graces privately."

Caitlyn and Anders exchanged uneasy looks. It appeared that they had arrived at the same conclusion.


"Lyrium?" Caitlyn said. "Regular lyrium, not red?"

Alain nodded. "A large donation of blue lyrium to the Free Mages of Thedas, with a note from Harlan and Lusine themselves." He passed the note across the table for Caitlyn and Anders to read.

She scowled as she perused the note. It was completely bland, no subtext that she could see. There was not even a suggestion that the Free Mages should take command from the Coterie.

"Was it addressed to the Arcane Guard?" she asked Alain, who continued to lead the small unit of mages who served the City Guard to fight magical crime.

He shook his head. "Not specifically."

She considered. "They still could have been trying to bribe the Guard."

"I'm sure that was a motive, yes." Alain frowned. "The thing is, Viscountess Hawke..." He hesitated.

Caitlyn was instantly alarmed. "Is something the matter?"

"Yes," Petra confirmed. "We are still receiving shipments of lyrium from Divine Justinia's people, but it isn't enough for us all."

"I could send word to her asking for more." But even as she uttered the words, Caitlyn realized that it might not be that simple. Lord Seeker Lambert, for one, would object to increasing the supply that the "rebel mages" received. In fact, she realized, it was distinctly possible that the supplies that Justinia sent to Kirkwall were secret to him.

"You need to preserve it," Anders said. "Save it for battle and try not to use it otherwise. You can train your mana to last longer and to not require artificial renewal as often."

"You can. Spirit Healers have an advantage over the rest of us."

"I didn't have access to a ready supply of lyrium as an apostate either," Caitlyn said, "and I'm not a Spirit Healer." Or a spirit host, which is Anders' biggest advantage in mana renewal and spell power. "It is something you can train to do. Anders is right. Save it for battle, when you have to cast big spells in frequent succession. For everyday living, train yourselves to renew your mana faster and use less of it to cast spells. It can be done."

"So we are not going to work with the Coterie?" Petra said.

Caitlyn shook her head. "As I hinted in the assembly, I want to thwart Harlan. He's up to something. I don't want to empower whatever he is doing."


At last, Harlan and Lusine were being presented to Caitlyn at the Keep. She had made certain to present herself as menacingly as she could, an avatar of power. She sat on the throne, the diadem of Kirkwall on her head, a shimmering gold-and-black gown with more than a hint of Tevinter style clinging to her curves. This dress covered her shoulders, and black feather pauldrons—like a small version of Anders'—adorned them. Instead of a scepter, she carried her most intimidating staff, the one that was an inheritance from her father, left in Corypheus's prison.

It was a good decision. Harlan and Lusine also appeared before her looking proud, very well-dressed, and adorned with costly jewelry. The crime lord carried a walking stick of polished, gnarled dark wood from the tropical north—a very expensive kind. A glass globe topped it.

Caitlyn was determined to make them stand in her presence. She smiled falsely at them. "Serah Harlan," she purred, relishing the use of the Marcher appellation for someone who was not a social superior. "Madam Lusine."

There was a brief moment, when Caitlyn uttered the title as the insult it was in this situation, that she thought she saw a flash of anger in Harlan's eyes that she had not called him "Messere." Pleasure coiled in her abdomen at the sight.

But that moment passed quickly. He had not become the boss of a criminal organization by being unsubtle. "Your Grace," he said smoothly.

Lusine, Caitlyn noted, had nothing to say. She was not so suave as her lover. Clear resentment blared from her features.

Caitlyn felt very smug indeed. She recalled the first time she had ever set foot in the Blooming Rose, in Dragon 9:31. The madam had sneered at her for her Fereldan accent, and then, when Caitlyn had said she was not interested in spending coin there, Lusine had said, tones full of contempt, "Of course you aren't. Poverty had nothing to do with your decision, I'm sure."

That was actually true. She had not been there to buy the services of a prostitute. She was emotionally committed to Anders, though they had not yet formally become a couple again—but she was also just not interested in casual, or purchased, sexual encounters and never had been. She had been at the Rose, in fact, to investigate a crime—a crime in which one of Lusine's women was deeply implicated. It had galled Caitlyn like a raw blister that a sleazy flesh-peddler harboring a killer had presumed to sneer at her, all the more so when she could not prove that Lusine herself knew what her whore had been doing and therefore could not wipe the sneer off the madam's face that same day.

Caitlyn smirked darkly at the pair as she recollected the incident. Harlan was smiling mildly, perhaps wearing a very effective mask—but Lusine could not hide her irritation that she had to make obeisance to a former refugee. How the tables have turned, you whore-mongering snob, Caitlyn thought in pleasure.

"Your Grace," the madam finally snapped, breaking Caitlyn's reverie.

Caitlyn smiled her false smile again. "My... friends." She paused pointedly on the word. "I have summoned you here to discuss your donations of coin and lyrium."

Harlan gazed challengingly back. "What is there to discuss, Your Grace? We wished to support the war effort and help the poor. Wars often leave the economy in a precarious condition. Trade routes are restricted, or become more dangerous. Supplies are disrupted. Cities can be damaged."

"Perhaps, but the first battle was a resounding success, as you know. If you have any intelligence of upcoming offensives that may endanger Kirkwall's trade routes, you are obligated as loyal citizens to share that knowledge. To keep news of the enemy from your Viscountess would be treasonous." It was very pleasant to utter a veiled threat almost immediately, but Caitlyn also thought it necessary. She did not trust either of these people one jot.

"Of course," Harlan said. "However, we do not have such intelligence. I made the donation preemptively, for when and if times do grow hard."

"You understand that I have agents. They will know if you are in a position to hear enemy intelligence." She was not sure if the isolated Dalish clans, the patrol between Lighthouse Point and Highever, and Varric's sources were the best possible intelligence operation, but Harlan did not need to know that.

"Naturally."

"Did you summon us here to threaten us, Viscountess Hawke?" Lusine snarled suddenly, unable to control herself.

"Lusine," Harlan said in a low warning.

Caitlyn stretched her arms on the armrests, her wide bell sleeves hanging over the edges. "Why play games? I know what you are, and you know that I know. You've concealed the proof well, that's all. When you make a large donation of lyrium to mages, some of whom are in the City Guard, it's perfectly clear that you mean to bribe them, as you have bribed other guards."

"You—" Lusine began.

"Don't insult my intelligence. We all know it." She gazed at Harlan. "When you donate coin to a shop that you do not own, whose owner is known to be charitable, it appears very much that you want to control that shop owner—and, perhaps, recruit the poor to whom she distributes the charity."

The crime boss seemed satisfied and pleased with the conversation. "I am a businessman, Viscountess Hawke," he said. "Lusine is a businesswoman. We require workers, yes. We also require customers who can afford our goods."

"So you expect to see the coin return to your own coffers, ultimately."

"Of course," Harlan said with a shrug. "It is an investment in my organization... and in the city, which I care very much about."

Caitlyn scoffed. "I said not to insult my intelligence."

"You are very mistaken, Viscountess Hawke, if you think I do not care about Kirkwall and its people. That includes your people," he said pointedly. "Do you realize how many Fereldan refugees are alive today because the Coterie provided employment for them when no one else would? They would have starved on the streets, or been captured by Tevinter slavers. Do you realize how many apostate mages... or former apostates, I suppose, due to your cause... that I employed, keeping them free of the Circles?" He gazed hard at her. "My organization offers goods at prices that others will not, or cannot. The poor can buy things from my vendors that otherwise they could not. And Lusine's institution provides a community service."

Caitlyn barely held back a derisive scoff. Lusine noticed.

"I sell carnal pleasure, Viscountess Hawke. I would not have taken you to hold that in such disdain. Let me see, your firstborn was born... how many years before your wedding?"

Anger surged in Caitlyn immediately at this personal attack. "You sell home-wrecking and relationship destruction," she snarled recklessly.

"Why so indignant, Your Grace? Marital trouble? Sadly expected, if you hate sex so much now..." Lusine said in mock sorrow. "But if you are worried, Anders has not been one of my clients."

At that, her rage became a towering inferno. "That's it," she spat. She nearly rose from her throne, the little flames forming in her palms that so often did involuntarily when she was worked up. "I do not have to listen to this."

Harlan interceded. "Lusine! Apologize to Her Grace." He turned to Caitlyn. "I beg your pardon. Lusine was inexcusably rude."

"Sorry," the madam snapped reluctantly. "But am I to keep my nose in the relationship of every couple in the city and turn away customers who are with someone else? Their troubled love lives are not my problem. I have no right to meddle. I offer a service. They choose to partake of it."

Caitlyn seethed. The personal insults still rankled, but she could see the sense of Lusine's words—and that alone irritated her.

The madam continued. "I have heard of the new orphanage that one of the mages has founded in part of the old Qunari building. The Blooming Rose has served as something of an orphanage too."

Caitlyn glared icily. "Prostituting children is punishable by death."

"I am aware, and I have done nothing of the kind. The Rose puts a roof over their heads and trains them to a remunerative profession when they are of the age of consent. There are walls of books, as I think you know?" Lusine paused, glaring at Caitlyn. "And the girls and boys learn music and dancing if they are talented. They receive an education in the arts."

"At a price that they might not want to pay," Caitlyn replied. "There will be no occasion for that anymore. Homeless children will go to the city orphanage that Evelina started as soon as it is ready. They'll be educated there, too, without a requirement to become prostitutes afterward," she added sharply.

"There is no requirement. No one was ever forced."

Harlan interceded again. "I could make a donation to this orphanage itself," he said. "It is a civic work. And the lyrium can go to the mage army or the healing clinics. As I said, Your Grace, I care very much about Kirkwall."

Caitlyn stared skeptically at him. "The Coterie benefits from an underclass, not a prosperous city."

"The Blooming Rose doesn't serve the underclass, nor do some of our other businesses. But there is always an underclass, even in the most prosperous city. What matters is that those in that underclass survive and have coin to spend."

She decided to use his own words against him. "As you said, you are a businessman. You said that your donation to Lirene's was an investment. You talked about the Coterie offering employment to people in this underclass. When you speak of donating to the orphanage, it appears that you see it as an ownership share, both to control its operations and to lay claim to some of the children as future workers for your organization." She gazed hard at him. "In that case, further donations, Serah Harlan, will not be necessary."


Caitlyn needed to cool off after that meeting. She felt that she had won it, but it was a closely-run thing, and that made her uncomfortable. But at least she thought she had a better idea of Harlan's intentions.

"He must have realized that I've been hard on the smaller gangs—that, for once, there is a leader in this city who won't turn a blind eye to organized crime," she said to her friends later. "And so he thinks he can get to me by being 'charitable.' I'm not for sale, though. I don't need the bribery of a crime boss to win this war or improve this city. I can lead Kirkwall and the Free Mages to a better future with what we have ourselves."

Anders' face lit up at her little speech. "That's the fiery woman I love."

She was so sure that she had worked it out and nipped the problem in the bud. The explanation she gave made sense.

She had no idea what to think when the Coterie opened its second brothel.


Lowtown.

"That's it?" Caitlyn said, staring at the house of ill repute's sign in distaste.

The sign for the Blooming Rose was suggestive enough. The shingle hung for this place, called the Ripe Peach, was so overt that it barely avoided running afoul of public obscenity laws. A pitted peach half was painted on the wood, a little round bump at its top where the stem would have been, each little ridge inside the pit delicately rendered in deep reddish-pink. Painted juice dripped from the peach's pit, and cream was brazenly painted in white.

Aveline was seething at the sight of it. "That is completely obscene," she stormed. "There has to be a way to have that removed."

"They'll probably claim it's only a peach," Varric reasoned, "and—so it is."

"It looks like an accurate depiction of a 'peach pit' to me," Isabela said with a shrug and a lewd wink.

"It really does," Merrill said ingenuously. "It is a very detailed painting."

Fenris sighed. "Merrill, it's not meant to be a peach. Do you remember what Isabela told you about the flower paintings at that Hightown shop?"

Merrill's eyes grew wide and her face flushed. "Oh."

Caitlyn was irritated enough that Harlan and Lusine had dared to run up against the very line of public obscenity ordinances like this. It felt like a middle finger to her specifically, after that hideous meeting in the Keep. Then she noticed that Anders appeared extremely pained.

"What's wrong?" she said quietly to him.

He gazed awkwardly at her. "This... bothers me. I'll tell you later."


"It made me uncomfortable," he told her when they were back at the Keep and Caitlyn had called an emergency meeting among them, Aveline, and Varric to discuss the Coterie.

She embraced him gently. She felt that she had been very angry these past several weeks, and it exhausted her. Holding and being held by Anders, spending time with her children, being with her friends, were all antidotes. "You haven't been to one in years, and never after you met me. I trust you."

"I wish I hadn't gone at all. I told you that, I think, just before our very first time, that I regretted that that was what my first experiences were."

"I remember. But you meant well. You did it because you didn't want to break hearts or get someone pregnant." She chuckled. "A wise idea, since you managed to do both with me." His face crumpled in pain, and she instantly regretted her poor joke. "Anders! Damn it—I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel worse. I meant to jest."

He sighed, holding her close, and rested his cheek on top of her head. "I know. I can't laugh, though."

She didn't know what to say, so she just let him hold her and wrapped her arms around him in return. Finally something came to her. "You desire love. You always have. You're an incredibly loving person, Anders. You love me, you love our children, you love our family and friends... and the Circle made you live in fear of what would happen if you surrendered to that natural desire. That's why you did it. I lived in fear too, and my life was empty of romantic love or friends until I met you. And that's what we're fighting to destroy."

He nuzzled the top of her head, and she felt his chuckle through her scalp. "Revolutionary talk makes anything better. Keep doing that." He stood up, pulling her along with him, and kissed her. "But for now, this blasted meeting."


"Well," Caitlyn said to her friends, "I thought I had Harlan figured out. I thought he was trying to buy me off after seeing that I am not a typical Kirkwall aristocrat who shrugs at crime. I'm not sure at all now what he intends, suddenly opening a second brothel, this one in Lowtown."

"While you were talking with Blondie, I made an inquiry with the Merchants' Guild here in Hightown," Varric said. "It seems that our friend Harlan is periodically donating part of the profits of that new place to the poor."

"Through Lirene?" Her voice hardened. "I don't want to treat her as a criminal, but if she keeps accepting Coterie coin, I may not have a choice."

"Well, not just yet," Varric said. "So far he's donated to other charity workers. What baffles me is that, from what the Merchants' Guild can tell, they're real donations. They are indeed going to the poor. That doesn't fit trying to buy you off, Hawke."

"I know," she agreed with a contemplative frown. "I wonder... are these donations widely and publicly known?"

"Not yet, but they probably will be. The charities won't keep the coin. It will get around that someone made a big donation."

"So Harlan will want to take public credit for it. Whatever his endgame is, obtaining a good reputation in Lowtown is part of that agenda." A cold fear settled in her stomach, one that she would not even dare to name. Memories of angry crowds, lit torches... Surely not. She instantly banished it.

"It seems that... perhaps."

Caitlyn glowered. "I want to shut the Coterie down. I don't care how big it is. It needs to be crushed."

"So taking on the Templars and a Chantry schism isn't ambitious enough for you, Hawke?" Varric teased.

"Not when the Coterie boss is causing problems for me. And I think he is—or means to eventually."

He whistled. "Taking on the Coterie will be a big bite to chew."

"How big?" she asked. She leaned in. "I don't think I know as much about the Coterie as, perhaps, I should, and this is as good a time as any for us all to learn about it."

"You were a smuggler, Hawke. I figured you'd know all about it."

"I know Athenril's gang competed with the Coterie, but she was 'only' a smuggler. She delivered the goods to the sellers who had hired her, and that was the end of it. The point was to avoid the harbor tax... or, sometimes, to bring in something illegal." She chuckled ironically. "Her group went legitimate when I became Viscountess. I guess she was afraid I would shut her down, since I had been an insider."

"Would you have?" Aveline asked with a wry smile.

"Yes, without a doubt."

"Such loyalty," Varric teased.

Caitlyn shrugged. "I never had any illusions about it. I would've hired on as a mercenary that first year if I hadn't been an apostate, but attacking people with magic seemed... unwise. Moving goods around seemed a better way to stay undercover as a mage and protect my son, especially since Anders wasn't even in Kirkwall until a year later. The people Athenril supplied were the worst part. They tried to blackmail and extort her to get a better deal, and I developed a reputation for not tolerating it."

"You never wanted to say much about that year," Anders said, shaking his head, "and I see why. I'm so sorry I couldn't take care of you, sweetheart."

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "You were defending Amaranthine against darkspawn, and you didn't know where I was or if I was even alive."

"But I still wish I could've provided for you and Mal with my Warden stipend, so you didn't have to risk discovery, dealing with such people. I would have taken you back to Vigil's Keep if I'd known how to find you."

They shared a sad, tender smile and squeezed hands under the table. Caitlyn reflected on the moment. Anders knew perfectly well that she could take care of herself, and he was not a controlling type. But she knew that in addition to "Anders the Revolutionary," there was another side to her husband, "Anders the Healer," who was loving, domestic, and protective. This side of him had fewer opportunities to express itself, but it was there, and she did want him to understand that she loved it too.

Aveline cleared her throat. "The Coterie."

"Right," Caitlyn said, brought back to the present. "I know they do smuggling and run brothels, but what else do they do? How are they so powerful, since the word on the street is that they're just a 'guild of thieves'?"

Varric nodded. "That's definitely a misleading oversimplification. The Coterie is a criminal syndicate. There are certainly thieves among the grunts, but the major crime is more sophisticated than that."

"Explain," she urged. "I need to understand it now."

"Let's see..." Varric mused. "There are basically two types of businesses that the Coterie runs. First is the kind that's blatantly illegal, which means assassination contracts, protection rackets, and smuggling. Bootleg liquor, stolen goods, banned potions, even a sideline in lyrium—"

"As we saw recently," Caitlyn muttered.

"There are corrupt port authorities who have deals with the Coterie to let these goods into Kirkwall illegally or duty-free," Aveline said, scowling. "I've found some of them, and you have too, Hawke, but the Coterie always gets its hooks into new ones. And once they're bought, if they then change their minds and turn, their lives are in danger. The Coterie won't hesitate to kill informers."

"I know the Coterie runs its own shops, of sorts," Caitlyn said. "Sellers popping up in alleys or in Darktown with a dubious box or two who are gone a month later. Or... for the lyrium... I suppose they sold to corrupt Templars, back when we had that problem."

Varric nodded. "The Coterie brings in a lot of coin from its illegal business. I mean a lot. And it hides this coin in its legal businesses: the Blooming Rose, this new brothel, a tavern, a shop or two. The proprietors are dedicated Coterie employees and they cook the books."

"So... they have a second set of account books at every Coterie-owned legal business, a set that the authorities never see, separating the legitimate revenue from the infusion of coin from these illegal sources?"

"Exactly," he said. "Just as an example, imagine your standard Coterie 'merchant' selling stolen goods in Darktown."

"I don't have to imagine. I killed enough of them the first four years here. One even had the nerve to steal from the supply wagons for my mine."

"Well, imagine those who escaped your wrath closing up shop until the next shipment comes in. They take the coin they made and shuffle it over to the Blooming Rose. Madam Lusine puts it into the 'official' account books as just part of the month's, uh, services rendered."

Caitlyn frowned. "The city receives taxes from the legal businesses, so even though the smuggling itself is illegal, we would get something out of it."

"Not as much as you think. From what I've heard, the Coterie reports much of this excess revenue as 'tips' and 'damage fees.' Tips are taxed less, and damages to a business are expenses that count against business income."

"But that's outright fraud," Caitlyn exclaimed hotly.

"We're talking about the Coterie, remember?" he said with a wry smile. "But that's not even the worst. Something it did during the Blight in particular was to have 'charity chests' in some of its businesses—"

"Which I presume hardly provided any charity for anyone," Caitlyn said, suddenly enraged at what she was sure Varric was about to say.

"You would be correct. It was a way for the Coterie to dump illegally obtained coin into a pool, which it would then recirculate through itself. Some small pittance might go to charity, but most of it would be spent on 'operations' to distribute the charity—which, of course—"

"—meant that it was given to Coterie thugs posing as charitable workers." Caitlyn glowered. "If we know so much about how the Coterie works, why hasn't it been shut down yet? I guess," she said shamefacedly, "that I'm guilty too, since this is my third year as Viscountess. But I haven't been idle. When it comes to crime, I've just focused more on slaver gangs and small operations."

"This isn't your fault, Hawke," Aveline assured her.

"And I have to tell you," Varric said, "we do have a good idea of how it works... but without the account books, we can't prove crimes. That has been the difficulty."

Caitlyn thought about it. "Then we need to target the legal businesses. Particularly the Blooming Rose and..." She glowered. "The Ripe Peach. If running a brothel became illegal in Kirkwall, that would solve some problems."

They exchanged looks before Aveline responded. "I disapprove of them on principle, so if you did that, Hawke, I'd support you... but to be honest, you would need my support. You'd need a lot of support."

"If you outlaw brothels, Hightown will toss you out of the Keep on your backside," Varric said grimly. "There are way too many frequent customers from this district. You would meet with major revolt, I guarantee it."

"Then why don't we try to get informants in the Rose or the Peach? Get someone on the inside who can give us the goods on this... this fraud."

"Money laundering, the Merchants' Guild calls it," Varric said. "You're welcome to try, but they're more disposable to Harlan and Lusine than anyone—with the exception of a few 'courtesans' who are in high demand, are very well-paid, and are utterly loyal to the Coterie too. The others? Harlan and Lusine see them as trash. They'd kill one in a heartbeat."

Caitlyn recalled the incident years ago in which she'd questioned a prostitute about disappearances. The woman turned out to be a blood mage. Caitlyn had slain her in her room in the brothel itself—and absolutely nothing had come of it. Madam Lusine herself had never been held under suspicion in the disappearances, but she also hadn't sought vengeance or pursued the killer of her employee. It sickened Caitlyn to realize that Varric was correct. For all the woman's defensive talk about "educating" her workers in the arts, she did see most of them as rubbish. In all likelihood, Caitlyn thought, the ones who had talents had already learned whatever they knew elsewhere. Leliana had told her once that it was not unusual for bards and minstrels who could not make it in the Great Game to turn to brothels for employment.

"The Blooming Rose can wait, then," she muttered, "but the Ripe Peach seems like it could be more promising. I seized the shares of my mine's former co-owner because he was negligent of employee safety. Maybe we could shut down the Peach on a similar basis. Hightown wouldn't care about that. They'd go to the Rose instead anyway."

"The mine workers were being killed by dragons and things that Hubert wouldn't get rid of. I doubt you'll see negligence on that scale at this place, though it's still undoubtedly a pit of disease."

"They cannot possibly be making enough coin for the hazards that they endure." Something occurred to her. "What about slavery? Does the Coterie traffic in people?"

"Not for its brothels," Aveline said grudgingly. "I've asked around about the Peach, and it seems that its... workers... really are people from Darktown and Lowtown who went there voluntarily. And Lusine wasn't technically lying when she said that children who grow up in the Rose aren't forced to stay there. It's just damned hard for them to make their way in the world when they don't know a respectable trade. The ones who picked up music have a chance as tavern singers, but none of the others do. But no... it isn't slavery."

Caitlyn glowered. She felt that she was being thwarted everywhere. Harlan is one clever bastard, she thought. "I want it watched very carefully, and if there are any indications of force, let me know at once. There were issues with Fereldans being sold into slavery during the Blight. This war will unfortunately provide another opportunity for refugees to be exploited."

"Will do, Hawke."

"There is something else, on the subject of negligence and dangers," Anders said. "What Varric said about it being a 'pit of disease' reminded me. The number of times people came to my old clinic in Darktown because they worked at, or patronized, the Blooming Rose..." He shook his head. "But since we have healing clinics with someone always on duty, we could have some Healers periodically go there to check on the... workers."

"Not you," Caitlyn said immediately.

The others burst out laughing at this, Anders too. The laughing smile on his face was a blessed relief to Caitlyn after the angst that she had witnessed in him just before the meeting. "Oh, you know you could trust me!" he said, chuckling.

She smiled affectionately, feeling very warm toward him. She trusted him with her heart and her life, and the fact that he cared about the well-being of these people that no one else cared about—including their employers—only warmed her heart to him more.

"I know," she said. "But I don't think it would look good for you to go there. It's a good idea for someone to do it, though, since you confirmed that the Coterie didn't take care of its people in the Rose. Let's make it happen." She gazed at the others. "And inspecting his businesses routinely would put Harlan on notice that I'm the power in Kirkwall, not him."

They exchanged curious glances. Aveline spoke up. "You think his activities lately are some sort of—defiance?"

Caitlyn considered. Those dark images of Lowtown mobs past—Petrice riling up her supporters in the marketplace with Caitlyn's grim assent, Mettin inciting his murderous mob about a year ago on Satinalia, even her own squad of armed vigilantes stalking around the Keep after Mistress Selby was assassinated—entered her mind again, much as she didn't want them to.

"He's the Coterie boss," she finally said. "I don't trust his intentions for that reason alone. I think he's up to something with all this 'charitable' and 'civic' activity, all these appeals to Lowtown. I just don't know what."


Notes: This take on Harlan is based on a familiar archetype, but this archetype has many variants. There's the Robin Hood figure, but there's also the romanticizing of fictional and real organized-crime bosses. And it's extremely common for populist movements to center around this kind of figure.

Regarding the conflict about mage-owned businesses, I wanted to do something with the Lucrosians, because canon does nothing with them, and it seemed natural for them to want to go into business and acquire all the gold the Templars never allowed them to earn... and for other mages to deeply disapprove of that! I'm also trying to do something with the Free Mages that canon didn't: show them actually trying to live normal lives when they aren't fighting a war. They have that chance here, but political factions would develop just as they always do in any community. A different political faction will arise in a later chapter and cause major problems.

And I admit it, because it's not exactly subtle: It is my view that the Circles are essentially Stalinist communes that have religious indoctrination instead of ideological. Circle mages can't communicate with the outside world. They're not allowed families. To stand a chance of ever being allowed to step outside, or of being First Enchanter, they have to parrot the party line. Those who are allowed out are tracked. Escapees are hunted down ruthlessly. Dissidents and troublemakers can be essentially lobotomized. And... they can't own much personal property (e.g. Anders having only one item allowed from home), and for ages Circles have kept the coin from the fruits of mage and Tranquil labor, rather than letting anyone have personal wealth. All forms of tyranny have certain things in common, but I think totalitarian collectivism is the closest analog for the Circles. And I just can't see Anders siding with the collectivists here. He was a Libertarian. He thinks mages should be allowed to live like anyone else, doing what they want in life. He cares about the poor, but he wouldn't want mages restricting other mages.