"She's married?" I hissed at the teenager, not caring at how shoulders hunched in at my tone. An effect probably not helped by the fact that I'd made him follow me into an alley, the pair of us lurking in between two hovels in Lowtown's poorest quarter. "You're certain?"
"T-to a Templar!" He stuttered. "They... they're home is in Lowton! B-by the docks!"
"You said that already." Taking deep breaths didn't really help calm me down any, but at least I tried. "They don't have any other contacts within the city?"
"Um... j-just other guards f-from who I t-talked to. And T-templars. I think they go out drinking with... um..."
I'd never been the most patient person, and it was worn thin after what had happened this morning. "Out with it."
"The Kn-knight-Captain!" The poor kid ducked his head further. At this rate he'd be on his belly, mumbling into the dirty streets before we finished his report. "C-Cullen! Th-that's what the dishwasher at the Steel Tap called him!"
...what fucking warped version of Thedas had I shown up in? Aveline's husband was alive and well, and the pair of them were drinking buddies with Cullen? When had Cullen even gotten here? I thought he wouldn't show up until after the Blight was over!
And I had confirmed that the Blight was still raging south of us. Swinging by the docks to count Qunari sentries had let me track down recent Ferelden refugees. Few had been willing to talk to an elf, but a silver coin here and there had changed their minds. As far as I could tell the Darkspawn were only just now gathering for their march on Denerim. One them had heard a rumor that the Dwarves were sending the Legion of the Dead to the surface to help, at the behest of the Grey Wardens, but no one else I'd talked to had said the same.
So the end stages of the Fifth Blight, maybe, but it was definitely still going. So what was Cullen doing here? And promoted already? Hadn't he just been a... whatever they called a baby Templar, like, a year ago?
Ugh. This was twisting my brain into knots.
"Thanks." I managed to tell him, pulling out a silver from my pocket. After a moment, I let out a frustrated breath and pulled out a second one. "Double payment for my temper. You didn't deserve that."
I don't think the teenager had been apologized to in his life for someone snapping at him. He'd probably never had two silver in his entire life either.
Trembling fingers took the coins. He followed that up with a nervous glance at my eyes, his own expression a mess of gratitude and fearful tension. When I jerked my chin over my shoulder he got the hint, darting off toward the Alienage without another word.
I watched him vanish into the streets proper, then turned and let myself fall back. My spine hit the wall a moment later, head resting on the stone while a hand fell to the hilt of my sword. The worn leather grip didn't actually creak under my clenching fingers, but it was the closest thing to a stress ball that I had. I spent a few moments tightening and relaxing my grip, slowly forcing myself to think logically instead of just silently screaming in frustration. None of this made any damned sense. Worse, I was now apparently way behind on realizing it, because I'd been too confident in when things would happen.
I'd spend far too long working my way into Varric's employ, focusing on nothing besides being able to earn money. Stockpiling that gold and silver in his investments instead of spending it on information on Hawke, Gamlen, and Aveline. On news from refugees. And now I was paying for that by being utterly confused, stuck rushing around, desperate for anything that might help me make sense of all this.
Facts. I had to focus on the facts that I knew.
Fact One. Merrill was here very early, and was apparently on far worse terms with her Keeper than I remembered.
Fact Two. Aveline was here, with a husband who should have been dead. I had no idea how they'd managed to survive.
Fact Three. Cullen was here too, and already promoted. I had no idea what had happened at the Circle in Ferelden, or how he'd met Aveline.
Fact Four...
My nostrils flared as I kicked at nothing, letting go of my sword and yanking my newest cloak up and over my ears. Disguise in place, I dropped a hand back to my weapon and stalked out of the alley.
I emerged into a little square surrounded by homes. Most didn't look much better than mine, despite being owned by Humans, and the local people moving through kept their heads down and feet moving. A couple glanced my way as I strode up a short stairwell, but quickly averted their attention when they saw that I was armed.
"...another hunter." The mutter was quiet as they shuffled past. "Maker save that drunken fool when they find him."
Ignoring them, I strode up to the door of Gamlen Amell.
I didn't need to pick the lock, or kick it open.
Someone had already done the latter.
An irritable nudge sent it swinging drunkenly on the one hinge still holding it up, letting me walk right inside. Despite the outer appearance, Gamlen had lived pretty well by Lowtown's standards; his apartment was pretty big on the inside. His main living and dining space was nearly the size of my entire home, complete with several rooms connected to it.
It had probably been decently furnished too, at least before the scavengers and looters had gone to town on it. All that was left was the larger furniture, stuff that would be hard to move without plenty of help. The dining table, the bed-frames, that kind of stuff. It would probably be taken eventually, or just used by whoever moved in next, but for now it gathered dust along with the various leftover debris scattered around.
Prowling through the dark rooms, I did my best impression of an amateur detective looking for clues.
Considering the state of the place, there were really only two things I could think of: counting the number of beds, and checking for Mabari paw prints. The former was because I couldn't imagine someone like Gamlen spending the money on beds he didn't need, not when he lived alone. The latter because I was pretty sure Hawke had owned a Mabari, and that Gamlen hadn't had a dog.
I wished that I was surprised by what I found.
The lack of paw-prints wasn't that unusual. There were enough chaotic footprints in the dust and dirt to have covered up any that had been left behind even if a Mabari had ever been living here.
The problem... was that there was only one bed frame in what passed for a master bedroom. The other room, the one I was certain the Hawkes had stayed in, was filled with broken crates and empty boxes. Unless they'd been dumped here by the looters, which I doubted, no one had lived in that room. Not recently at least.
Fact Four. Gamlen Amell had vanished into thin air, and it didn't look like Hawke had ever been here.
Fuck.
...this pathetic world, so barbaric. Burn it. Burn it all, it deserves it. We can burn it together...
"...fuck." I clenched my jaw, closing my eyes as I fought to get myself under control. "Piss off."
What has this abomination of a planet done for you? It deserves to burn. You know it. You feel it in your bones. Just-
"Shut the fuck up or I'll have Longing pitch you into the deepest part of the ocean she can find."
Rage stopped whispering at once. I appreciated that.
What I didn't appreciate was the feminine laughter that echoed through the home a moment later.
Dammit. I had to be close to seriously losing it if I was hearing demons during my waking moments. If I could hear Longing's mocking cackle from her side of the Veil. I had to get myself under control. I needed to calm down, focus on what I could do now. My options were still pretty limited in that regard, but that didn't mean I was totally out of things I could do.
Merrill. Merrill was staying in my spare bedroom. I needed to know what had happened to her. What had happened to the amulet.
Elves were tiny, myself included. We didn't have much alcohol tolerance. I could get her drunk easily enough. Try and ask questions that way... ugh. No. I couldn't. Merrill was... not some stranger I needed to pump for information. She was, well, Merrill. I'd thought she was adorable as a two-dimensional character on a screen, and she was even more so in real life.
Maybe if I'd been in a desperate hurry I'd be able to force myself to do it, but...
"...if Hawke isn't here, then what is the rush?" I admitted quietly, opening my eyes to glare at the empty fireplace. "Flemeth, or Mythal, or whatever she is... she's probably gone. The sooner I face that fact, the sooner I can calm down and come up with a new plan."
It sucked to think that.
It really fucking sucked.
In all likelihood, I was now confined to Thedas for the next six years. Hell, the next decade was probably more accurate. I couldn't remember when Inquisition started. All I really knew was that getting to Haven or Skyhold after the Breach would be my only chance to find Solas. Which would mean I'd need to not warn anyone about that Breach, leaving hundreds of people, including the local version of the Pope, to be blown up by a Darkspawn with delusions of grandeur.
And even if I did, Solas hadn't even been strong enough to use his own orb-thing. He probably wouldn't be able to help me for years after that point. Assuming I could convince him to try at all.
So a decade plus in Thedas, with a side helping of monumental guilt over the Breach, all in the hopes of begging the Dread Wolf for a favor. And I was currently stuck in Kirkwall, a city that was going to explode with violence at least twice over that time period.
And I was an elf, so my options for going and living somewhere else were... limited to say the least.
God dammit.
...right. I had a new plan for the rest of tonight. The Hanged Man. Coff's cheap-ass whiskey. Blackout drunk. In that order. If I killed my liver fast enough, I could stumble home with some food for Merrill in time for sunset.
I'd definitely regret it tomorrow, but for today I couldn't stand to be in my own head anymore.
Striding out of the empty home, I slipped down the stairs and stalked away. My angry strides kept my cloak flaring dramatically out enough to showcase the sword on my hip, and the fact that I was keeping a hand on it at all times. That was enough to keep some space around me, despite the fact that the streets were starting to crowd as work wound down for the day.
I stuck to the main roads as long as I could, before the odds of someone noticing my ears under the hood got too high even for my current mood. Then it was a duck into the back alleys and side-streets, where I joined plenty of other elves picking their way through the refuse. Some were clearly heading home for the day, others were going in the opposite direction. Servers and dishwashers for the bars and taverns heading out for their night shifts.
Murmured greetings came and went as we moved past one another. A few knew my name, and I did my best to remember theirs when I replied.
That paid off for me when I was a couple blocks away from the bar. One of the younger girls, I think she worked at one of the dockside bars, whispered a warning when I made to pass her. "Fighting back there, Lady Maeve. Be careful."
"Thanks Asharis." I patted her shoulder as I went by, "Nothing between here and the docks."
"Thank you."
Unfortunately for me there really wasn't a better way to the Hanged Man from where I was. Not unless I wanted to add most of an hour circling around the Alienage's outer wall, or risk darting along the rooftops.
The former was out of the question, and the latter wouldn't become the Thieves Highway until after sunset. Anyone going up there now would be easily spotted by the Guards, few as they were in Lowtown, and I definitely wasn't in the mood to be chased around the city.
Onward toward the fighting then.
Sure enough there wasn't anyone else using the alley short-cuts after her. Most of a block passed in relative quiet, apart from the distant murmurs from the main streets. The less pleasant sounds of a medieval brawl started up not long after, and got louder with each step I took closer to the Hanged Man.
Great. Another brawl right in front of where I wanted to go. Typical.
All right. Being honest? I'm not very good with a sword. Not outside of a fencing club at least, and even there I'd never been better than above average. I'd never been very good at Sabre either, sticking to Épée. I was still getting used to slashing being a legitimate thing, and to actually having to finish my attacks with a most of my strength. Which hit on the core of the whole problem; sport fencing didn't have much in common with actual sword play. It had rules, regulations, conventions. You played to score points, with an extreme emphasis on the speed of your attack. There was no armor to work around, your movement was almost exclusively forward-backward, and apart from a few 'let's-laugh-and-have-a-melee' nights, all the bouts were one on one only.
Most of my training sessions with Thrask were about breaking me out of bad habits as they were actually teaching me how to use a real sword. Silly things like how to move laterally, quickly, without lowering my guard. How to guide my attacks to the few weak points an armored man would have. How to keep track of multiple opponents at once, and fight on the run to stop them from just overwhelming me. Where to aim my sword against an unarmored man to ensure I killed him in a single thrust.
You know. Unpleasant crap like that.
Keeping a grip on my blade, I drew it a half inch or so, making sure I was read to pull it loose if I had to. I shifted my movements as well, going into a short, loping run that Brennan had taught me. It kept my footfalls light while still letting me move along at a decent clip. I kept up that speed until I got to the final stretch; where the alley would lead me out into the square containing the Hanged Man. I'd just started to slow down when I picked out actual words being shouted amid the chaos.
"...melana sahlin!"
Huh. That almost sounded like...
I froze for a brief second before my brain prodded me back into a quick rush forward. "...you have got to be shitting me!"
Getting my sword free, I ran right to the edge of the courtyard before skidding to a stop. The last thing I wanted was to run head-first into someone without even knowing what was going on.
My shadowed spot gave me a good view of Merrill standing with her back to a wall, one of the few city lanterns revealing dark bruising across her face. Her staff was held out in both hands, twirling slowly as her eyes darted between the men surrounding her. That would have been bad enough, but she wasn't alone. Varric of all people was standing right beside her, sheltering her as best his short frame would allow.
He held Bianca in both hands, keeping her aimed at the two men near the back how had far more basic crossbows pointed his way. At least four of their attackers were already dead on the ground. A pair with bolts sticking out of them, while the other pair looked like they'd had their heads caved in by rocks. From where the bodies were, Merrill had killed two, drawing Varric's attention, and he'd shot the others in the back when he'd emerged from the bar before moving to protect her when their dead men's companions objected to what he'd just done.
That left... seven alive. Two crossbowmen, five men with heavy clubs and shields.
The clubs really gave away their profession; murders and thieves used blades. You only used a club if you wanted to beat someone nearly to death, but then take them alive after.
"Give 'er up, dwarf." One of them, maybe the leader, growled. "We'll get ya a cut of what she's worth. Vints pay top coin for a knife ear'd mage."
Varric scoffed, shifting his aim from the crossbowman closest to me to the woman on the other side. He'd spotted me then, and was trusting me to take that one out for him. Great. Well, I might not have been the best in a straight fight, but I'd gotten pretty good at stabbing people in the back. My life in fucking Thedas.
"Come now, gentlemen." He called back, sounding far more confident than someone surrounded ought to. "I offered to settle this over a few beers, but you insisted on doing it the hard way. You really want to keep going down that road?"
"Ya got a fancy toy and a shaking knife-ear." The definite-slaver retorted. "Ya caught us by surprise once, ya ain't doin' that again."
"You sure about that?"
It was about an obvious a cue as he could have given.
Taking a final calming breath, I padded over as silently as I could, blade up and steady in my grip. The thug never even turned before the tip was plunging into the back of his neck, cutting through to emerge from the front of his throat.
I'd thrown up the first time I'd killed a man. A trapper who'd caught me alone in a forest, who'd wanted to brighten up his evening by trying to rip my clothes off. He'd missed me stealing his knife, until I'd rammed it up under his sternum.
My hands had shaken for hours after the second. A cocky Templar who'd caught me asleep in a stable. She hadn't tied me up well enough, or searched me for weapons, and I'd used the same knife on her throat mid-taunt about how she was immune to my magic.
I'd stopped keeping track after the twelfth. I hadn't wanted to know how much blood was on my hands after that.
Twisting the grip with both hands to make sure it tore open his arteries, I yanked it back, dodging left as blood spurted from the gaping wound. He fell, thrashing and clutching at the hole in his throat, letting me see the fight resuming ahead.
Varric had already shot down his own target, putting a bolt into her chest before she could pull her own trigger. The others all rushed forward, apparently not even noticing that I'd just killed their other man in the back ranks. Merrill quickly thrust her staff out, an enormous stone fist coming together out of nothing before shooting forward like a cannonball.
It took the closest thug in the head, putting him down permanently, but the other four were on them before she could summon up another.
I ran forward as Varric shot one in the leg, making him collapse with a yelp, leaving only three to start swinging their clubs around. The dwarf took a blow to his shoulder, only barely getting Bianca up to block one aimed for his head, while Merrill frantically parried the leader's attempt to brain her. Which was another difference from the games; your opponents didn't let you keep using magic or your crossbow at point-blank range. Once they got close, you were basically just someone with a stick or a fancy club. Even Varric, dangerous as he was, would lose a fight with three pathetic slavers armed with clubs if they got within arms reach of him.
"...behind us!" The wounded man saw me coming when I was nearly on them.
Ignoring him, I slid into a classic lunge, guiding my thin sword into the thigh of my target. He yowled in pain, staggering into his companion, leaving Varric free to swing Bianca around and yank the trigger. His bolt took the man in the guts, leaving him screaming. The thug toppled, convulsing, my arm only barely getting my sword free before he fell.
Merrill's opponent made the mistake of jerking his head around at the screams, and the tiny Dalish smashed the end of her staff into his throat. He fell to his knees, choking, then collapsed she spun it once then she slammed it into his temple.
The sole survivor saw his boss go down, visibly wilted, and turned to run.
Varric let him get a few paces, then casually shot him in the back. He had a good shiner forming on his jawline, and it'd probably turn into a nasty bruise come morning, but I didn't see any other wounds on him. "Can't stand slavers. You all right, Daisy?"
"My bruises have bruises," Merrill replied with a weak groan, leaning heavily on her staff. She was panting, and up close it was easy to see she wasn't lying about the bruises. I didn't think they'd broken her nose, or got her teeth, but her skin was already turning purple from her collar all the way to her ears. From her hunched posture she'd gotten hit in the ribs a few times too. They must have been really beating on her before Varric had emerged. "But I think I'm all right. Oh! Hello Maeve!"
I finished tugging my hood down, giving her my best 'you are in trouble, girl' look. "Merrill. What are you doing here?"
"I was... oh. You're giving me the same look the Keeper used to. I'm in trouble, aren't I?"
"Of course you're not." Varric patted her on the leg, probably the only part of her that wasn't bruised, waving for me to deal with the moaning bodies on the ground. "You two know each other?"
"She's my new roommate." I replied, stepping over to the man Varric had gut-shot. He was still twitching, at least until my sword slid into his throat. Ugh. I hated this part, but we couldn't leave them alive.
If they survived, they'd come back for revenge. That was just how things worked here.
And besides. Slavers. I hadn't any sympathy for the profession back home, and I had less than that now.
"And I thought she was spending the afternoon catching up on sleep, and letting me bring home dinner in the evening." I added.
I think Merrill blushed a little, but it was hard to tell around her black eyes. "Uh, well, I did. Sleep that is. Then I woke up and felt terrible for not thanking you properly for your help, so I thought I'd get some flowers to brighten up your home a bit."
"...and you got lost." I guessed, sighing as I walked the next moaning figure.
"Well, yes. There's so many corners and turns. How do you find anything here?"
Varric chuckled, eyes alight with amusement in a way that worried me. "Time and experience, Daisy. Come on, let's get you inside and get you looked at. Then I can ask Buzz why she didn't introduce me to her new friend sooner."
"Oh, ma serrenas. We only just met today, that's probably why-"
I tuned out her nervous chatter as Varric guided her inside, focusing on the throat-cutting I needed to do. A step here, a stab there, a duck down to pick up a coin purse over there. Wrapping up, I cut off a dead man's sleeve, using it to wipe down my sword as people began to trickle in now that the fighting was over.
No one gave the corpses more than a glance, shrugging as they walked over and around them. This wasn't the first time most of them had picked their way through the aftermath of a street battle to get drunk at the Hanged Man, and it wouldn't be the last either. I still kept my eyes up as I cleaned the weapon, just in case Aveline made an appearance.
She seemed the type to want silly things like 'proof' that these bastards had been slavers, and that they'd attacked first.
For once God or the Maker was with me; she didn't show up at the worst possible moment, neither did any other member of the Guard. Just a handful of the usual crowd slinking past me to forget how terrible their lives were for a while.
Tossing the bloody cloth aside, I made to join them in that noble dream before a flash of color caught my eyes.
There were... a small collection of daisies lay on the ground near the wall, where Merrill had been standing.
"...huh. She really did try to bring me flowers." I... was honestly touched for a moment, at least until I remembered that Merrill probably had no money. Which brought up the question of just where and how she'd gotten them.
Letting out a final sigh, I yanked the door open, more intent than ever on getting blessedly drunk.