The City Guard stopped protecting the Alienage five weeks after Merrill arrived.
On its own, that news was bad enough. Kirkwall's Guard may have been an openly corrupt and almost totally ineffective police force, but the key word there was 'almost'. There were still enough decent people in their ranks, people who believed in law and order, that most petty criminals did their best to avoid the Guard's notice.
Having even one of them outside our gate every night had been a kind of force-field. A pathetically weak one that occasionally folded, forcing us to protect ourselves, but a barrier to casual entry all the same.
And as soon as that barrier was gone... they came for us.
I leaned down, listening as the little girl frantically whispered her message into my long ear. Around me were the twenty-three volunteers of the Alienage's Night Watch, plus Merrill. All of us were clustered around the Vhenadahl, the central square unnaturally silent this early in the evening.
Everyone else was at home, or nervously watching from a safe distance.
"...thanks kid." I said when she finished, giving her a gentle pat on the back. "Run home now."
The smattering of armed elves shifted, letting the child slip past them. None of them spoke. Content to wait until the too-young ears were far enough away.
"They're coming." I confirmed. "One of the Hightown 'Vints has gathered up a group of thugs to back up his personal guard. Last count has about thirty of them heading our way. They intend to kill the Elder to intimidate us, and chain as many as they think they can fit into a ship bound for Minrathus."
Low growls came from a dozen throats, though Zatris was the only one to raise his voice. "What of the shem Templar?"
I nodded back toward the stairwell leading out. "Ser Thrask and Varric are ready. They'll wait for the Vints to get past them, then move up to block any escape. Thrask will do his best to shut down any magic."
"Good." The Alienage's best bowman, and my self-appointed second-in-command, nodded once. "Is our plan the same, my lady?"
My eyes narrowed. "Knock it off with the 'my lady' crap, Zatris. You know I hate it."
Quiet chuckles ran around the circle, Zatris merely grinning. "The plan?"
"Is the same. Archers to the roofs, remember to stay in cover. Everyone else to West Street. Elowen? You're leading the shield-wall."
Elowen was the tallest Elven woman I'd seen yet, which sadly wasn't saying much. She might have been five-six, maybe five-seven in shoes. But she was pretty burly, and claimed to have been a mercenary before retiring to raise a family.
I didn't really believe her, but I didn't really care much either. She was good with a sword, and knew how to drill the others on how to fight in a formation. That was a lot more than I had, considering I was basing this entire thing on half-remembered television shows and a few frantic conversations with my friends.
"Well?" I covered my terror at being in command by snapping even more sharply than usual. "Move it! We've got slavers to kill!"
The sound that came out wasn't anything close to being in unison, or anything like a rallying cheer, but it felt more honest in its ragged enthusiasm. Men and women jogged off into the darkening streets. A few gave each other final embraces, but most focused on climbing out of view or darting down the street.
Within a few minutes it was just Merrill and I, standing alone in the square.
"It's a good plan." She tried to reassure me, voice quiet. "It will work."
I grimaced, hissing back, "Merrill, I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing and you know it."
Warm hands took one of mine, holding them gently. "You knew enough to ask Ser Thrask for advice. I wouldn't have thought of that."
"Maybe the plan is fine," I muttered, not in the mood to be reassured. "But plans never really work out. Especially for me. If something goes wrong, these people expect me to be able to lead them. All because most of them are convinced I'm a soldier from some mythical Elven state."
"Varric says you swear like one... or did he say you swear like a sailor?"
"Merrill."
She giggled quietly, giving my fingers a gentle squeeze before letting go. "Ir abelas. It will be all right. The Creators will watch over us."
My jaw clenched for a moment at the mention of her gods... but this wasn't the time or place to dwell on those frustrations. "Get behind the tree. Don't act until I do."
Merrill nodded, skipping back to hide behind the thick trunk of the old tree. Well, she tried to skip. She made it about three steps before tripping over a root, a muffled yelp accompanying an embarrassed duck of her head.
...ladies and gentleman, the deadliest mage I knew.
Shaking my head, I slunk back toward the stairs. I peered up them long enough to confirm that the Guard hadn't bothered to come and shut it for sunset. This despite the fact that they had still been supposed to, at least according to what Varric had heard and what Brennan had been able to find out.
Their Commander had probably taken an extra bribe to not bother. Make things a little easier on the 'Vints.
Turning around, I slipped into a thin crack between the stairs and the nearest building, settling down into the dark shadows there. Sheltered from the stairwell on one side, I took a few steps farther back to make it as hard as possible to see me. A slight shift let me draw my sword, keeping my grip loose for now.
Silence fell when I stopped moving. Even the general noise of Kirkwall at night seemed distant, muted.
We didn't have to wait for very long.
I heard them coming from a ways off. Loud chatter, mocking laughs mixing together. The kind of too-loud cackling you only got from people who were liquored up and didn't realize how loud they were being. Boots began striking the stairwell shortly after, torchlight pushing back some of the darkness.
The 'Vint was out in front, leading the procession.
He was wearing the adorable little hood, complete with rubies that made it look even more like a jester's hat. It was hard to tell with it up, but the slow way he moved made me think he was on the older side. That might have been why he'd gone with dramatically billowing robes instead of armor, though that may have just been his total disregard for our ability to threaten him.
Arrogant idiot.
I counted silently as the rest of them joined their boss, apparently not willing to get started on the night's work without his say-so. I appreciated that; it made it easy to count them as they all bunched up not more than a dozen yards away.
Three were definitely his personal guard. They had chainmail armor, masks that concealed their features, and swords at their hips. All three were also doing their best to shelter their leader from the common rabble behind them.
And it was most definitely a rabble. Quite a few had torches, most were carrying clubs, chains, ropes, or a combination there-of. One looked like he had some kind of fishing net he was trying to figure out how to hold properly. The smell coming off of them was an unholy mixture of sewage and beer; the unmistakable odor of Darktown.
And there were... twenty-three of them, give or take a couple.
"Should we bonfire the tree? That'd really make the knife-ears weep!"
"Not tonight." The 'Vint barked without facing them, his hood shifting as he turned his head right to left. "We shall hang their Elder from its branches instead, along with any others who resit."
A general rumble enthusiastic agreement rose at his words.
"...very well. Let us begin. Remember! I want the Elder and any Dalish brought to me alive, and as unspoiled as possible! In addition to your payment, I will allow you all to keep five of them for your own pleasure if you are quick and efficient about this!"
"You heard him lads! Time to round up some rabbits!"
And with that, we got started.
Keeping my sword in my right hand, I stepped out of the alcove I'd been lurking in, left hand raised. My mind slid into the patterns that Merrill had spent a month drilling into me; anger rising as a fuel for the fire that I wanted to call. A memory of a burn twisting the Veil. The scent and taste of smoke filling my nose and mouth as the spell came together.
And a word set it motion. "Fuego!"
Merrill's fire spell was a little burst of flame around a distant target. A brief flash that only lasted if there was something flammable where she'd set it off. Painful and debilitating, but rarely lethal on its own.
Mine...
...mine wasn't that cute and cuddly.
Liquid fire vomited out from my upraised hand; a thin stream of napalm that I swept left to right over the closest targets. At least five men and women lit up like torches, howling in agony. A couple tried to stop, drop, and roll, only to discover the ignited grease sticking to them no matter how hard they tried to get it off.
The enemy mage whipped around, blue-light wreathing him as he called up a barrier to protect himself. His guards similarly fell in around him, facing me, swords glinting in the fire from the burning bodies.
I got two more of the thugs before the spell sputtered out, my vision going blurry for a moment as I got too close to mana exhaustion.
Fortunately Merrill was there to take up the slack.
"Mage behind!" The 'Vint bellowed, trying to rally his thugs. "Swarm her before-"
A stone the size of his skull slammed into the guard on his right, cutting him off. The armored man fell instantly; she must have snapped his neck. Another had enough time to whip around before she caught him in the chest, sending him stumbling for the few seconds it took a third stone to crush his throat.
Two professionals dead, close to a third of the thugs were down, and it hadn't even been fifteen seconds.
Losing so many of their friends so quickly threw the Darktown thugs into confusion. The fact that the people I'd hit were still howling in pain probably didn't help. The less committed bolted for the stairs, while the others started running in seemingly every direction at once. One had the sense to start mercy-killing the burning ones, ending their misery with his ax.
...and three came for me just as arrows began to whistle down from the rooftops.
In movies, in shows, people can always seem to see perfectly well at night. In real life, even to Elven eyes, there was a curtain of near perfect darkness outside of the light of the torches. In contrast, the torches and burning bodies made it incredibly easy for us to pick out where each and every one of our attackers was.
The men rushing my way died without having any idea as to where the shots had come from, and I was completely fine with the unfairness of it all.
Taking a quick breath, I brought my sword up to a ready position and advanced into the chaos. More arrows were whipping around, burying themselves deep into unarmored bodies. A roar of noise to my left drew my attention there in time to see Elowen rushing out, a dozen men and women with stolen shields forming a rolling wall.
They didn't kill the thugs in front of them so much as they simply ran them over, stabbing with their short spears as they went. Beyond them Merrill was occupying the mage, tossing weak but distracting spells at his barrier to stop him from interfering.
I felt my steps slow as I picked my way through the smoldering bodies of my victims. The smell of it churned my stomach, but I didn't let my gaze waver from the last men standing.
The 'Vint had thrown his back against the Vhenadahl, his last surviving bodyguard close to his flank. Merrill halted her approach, staff aimed like a gun at the both of them. Elowen and her people slid in between her and I, forming a wall of very angry Elves glaring down the pair of cowering Humans.
Ser Thrask announced his own arrival a moment later; the distant feeling of the Veil abruptly cut out, followed an instant later by the mage's barrier.
The old man's teeth were bared in a snarl, his staff rising in both hands as his only protection without magic. "I am an Altos of Tevinter. You cannot touch me."
"Pretty sure we can." I called back. "We've got a Templar with us, which makes you an old man with a stick. Not an impressive one either. Looks a bit limp and wrinkled. Useless really."
Mocking snickers rang out from both the ranks and the rooftops, a few of them calling out their own opinions of his stick.
"Tell you what," I went on, thoroughly enjoying the way his teeth were grinding. The way his guard had started shaking nervously. "If you surrender, right now, we'll kill you cleanly instead of taking our time about it."
"Barbarians! I will not be threatened by pathetic-" Blood spurted from his mouth.
I blinked, lips parting.
Merrill lowered her staff in shock.
And the last guard yanked their sword free of their master's throat, ignoring the way he tottered before collapsing in a heap.
"I yield!" A woman's voice carried from the mask; young and terrified. Her sword quickly fell, the guard herself dropping to her knees with her hands on her head a moment later. "I beg your mercy, my lady!"
...right. Not a video game. Most people wouldn't fight to the death over absolutely nothing.
"...Elowen?" I managed her name after a moment. "There's plenty of chains among the bodies. Get this one disarmed and tied up."
The larger woman huffed. "Should cut her throat too, lady."
I was really getting sick of being called that. "If I decide that's what she deserves I'll let you do it. Just chain her up, dump her in my house under guard. Thrask and I will interrogate her and decide what to do."
She grumbled a bit more, but strode forward all the same. The guard didn't resist as her belt was ripped off, taking a sheathed knife with it. She was bundled off quickly, only a few muffled yelps hinting that she got punched or kicked a few times in the process.
And with that...
...with that we won. The first major slave raid since I'd arrived was over. It hadn't lasted more than a few minutes, and not a single one of us had been hurt.
Huh.
How about that?
I looked around to find everyone else looking nearly as baffled as I felt. Thrask and Varric were only barely visible by the stairs, the latter carefully pointing to one side. I followed his attention to realize that my flamethrower spell's leftovers were still smoldering, and some were smoldering a little too close to some of the apartments.
Oops.
"Throat cutters!" I called, getting everyone's attention. "Make sure none of them live to talk about this! Everyone else, get dirt over the fires before they catch any of the buildings!"
Those people we hadn't trusted with real weapons came rushing out of their homes, out of alleys. Buckets of sand and dirt were thrown on the people my spell had hit, while kitchen knives stabbed into the hearts of those few Humans still breathing. A couple of minutes later and it really was all over. Elves stood around in shock, staring at the bodies, at each other.
The archers started the cheering. Whooping in excitement as they scrambled down from their perches. People began embracing anyone within arm's reach, slapping backs and kissing cheeks. Or occasionally lips. Some had tears in their eyes, laughing almost uncontrollably.
Merrill tried to escape to my side only to be swept up by half of the shield-wall, her cheeks and ears flaming red as men and women began babbling their thanks for her role in the ambush. I smiled a little at the sight. I'd worked very hard to make sure no one thought of her as a pariah, and that I would not be happy if she was mistreated.
That had been more effective than I'd anticipated. Probably because, much to my consternation, people seemed to assume that I was some kind of leader. Almost entirely because I didn't act as downtrodden and deferential as everyone else did.
Well, that and the fact that I wasn't shy about snapping at people who did stupid crap in front of me. And that I'd helped arm most of the people carrying weapons tonight. And that I was the only person under the age of fifty willing to call the Elders out on their shit.
It was kind of flattering. And terrifying, since I didn't know anything about leading. Or want to know anything about it.
But tonight...
...I'd pulled it off tonight, thank God.
I was considering trying to rescue Merrill when Zatris ambushed me from the side. I yelped when he picked me clear off my feet in a hug, practically shouting in my ear, "We did it! That was incredible!"
I gave him an awkward pat on the back, trying to breathe through the bear-hug. "Yeah. We did. It's not over, we have to deal with the bodies."
He pulled back, nodding once though he was still grinning. "Yes, my lady! You heard her everyone! We're not done yet!"
The slender man promptly waded into the cheering crowd, tapping members of the Night Watch on the shoulder as he went. He got them wrangled up in short order, their friends and family quickly helping to start grabbing the bodies.
They would all be hauled into the back streets, stripped of everything valuable, and them dumped into the Darktown sewers.
"Not bad at all, Buzz." Varric's drawl had me turn to see him approaching, Thrask walking confidently at his side. "Don't think I've seen the Alienage this lively since the last wedding."
"That was barely two weeks ago, Varric."
He grinned. "Still true."
I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for the help. Both of you."
Thrask chuckled, putting a hand on his chest. "For what little we needed to do, it was our pleasure, my lady."
"No rear guard?"
Varric shrugged. "Just one. Bianca dealt with him before he could try anything, then two more made it up the stairs trying to run. By the time we handled them and got down here, you all had pretty much finished up. What are you going to do with your prisoner? Rare to see one with a working sense of self-preservation like that."
"I... don't know." I admitted.
Our Templar friend shifted his weight uncomfortably. "She knows you and the Dalish girl are mages, Lady Maeve. It would not be wise to let her survive the night. My fellow Templars may not be eager to trust someone from Tevinter, but if she went to them, they would be honor-bound to investigate all the same."
I surprised myself by grimacing.
I was no stranger to killing people, not after ten months in Thedas, but something about killing a prisoner still struck me as... wrong. Whatever was left of my civilized conscious must have been desperately trying to make me remember I came from a proper civilization.
"I'm thinking about it." I said after a moment. "Do me a favor and go stand guard over her? Just in case she's a hidden mage."
He tipped his head, smiling through his beard. "Wise as always, my lady. It will be done."
I kicked his shin as he went past, which hurt my toes far more than his leg. "No more ladies tonight! I'm sick of it!"
The Templar merely laughed, striding away to leave me alone with Varric. We didn't stay that way long; the Elder limped over a moment later, a hand resting on Merrill's arm. She was still blushing badly enough to make me sure that someone had kissed her, and she'd probably volunteered to help the old man just to escape the ongoing celebration.
"A victory." He said, looking around proudly. "Proof that we can defend ourselves."
I nodded once, glad to not be arguing with him for once, but I wasn't so optimistic. "Against a group of idiots stomping in from the gate, sure. The smarter predators will find a way through the walls, or up through Darktown. That or they'll call the Guard to disarm us."
Varric nodded, "Much as I hate to agree with Lady Pessimism over here, she's not wrong. There's at least two more 'Vint nobles in town. They'll have no idea what happened if you make the bodies vanish, but they'll know he's dead. And who probably killed him."
The old man grunted, thumping his cane on the ground. "We have been raided by the Guard before, and we will again. We know how to hide our real weapons, and let them find nothing but scraps."
If he said so. "Probably don't want to let them celebrate too late either. Someone will bitch about the noise."
"Then I will tell them there was a wedding." The Elder chuckled. "This is not my first time covering up something like this, da'len. Granted there were usually fewer bodies, and tears of sorrow rather than joy among our people."
I could only shrug. I had plenty more pessimism where that had come from, but it wouldn't change his mind. No point in wasting my breath or time. Not when I could complain and mutter to Merrill and Varric over drinks instead.
"How close are you to dealing with the remaining Magisters?" He asked.
I bit down on my instinctive retort that there weren't any Magisters in Kirkwall. They were just lesser Tevinter nobles. Instead I just turned to glance at Varric, since he was the only one who could answer that question.
"I've got us a way into one of the estates." He said, "But the Coterie's meeting with them tomorrow night to hand over lyrium vials. It'll have to be the day after. That work for you two?"
I nodded, "Unless Merrill has a hot date lined up."
"Maeve!" Said woman protested, blush returning.
I gave her a quick grin, then turned back to Varric. "Is Brennan in?"
"Says she'll be on duty that night, but she swapped patrol routes to be the one in that area. Shouldn't have any interference, and she'll deal with anyone trying to slip out the front door."
Good. "I'll pick out two volunteers to watch the Darktown exit. You, me, Merrill, and Thrask for the actual attack then?"
Varric nodded. "Sounds it. Even split of any loot?"
"As always."
"Good. I'm late to meet my editor, drinks and cards tomorrow?"
"Su-"
Thrask's abrupt bellow cut me off. "Lady Maeve!"
I froze for a brief instant, then tore off toward my house at a run, drawing my sword again as I moved .Varric was moving even before me, while Merrill was a half-step behind. Around us the celebrations abruptly ceased, the crowd surging along in our wake as they rushed along to see what was happening.
Varric slid to a stop just outside of the apartment, Bianca falling into his hands as he settled in to aim it inside. I let myself get just a bit ahead before stopping in the doorway, a bit to one side so he had a clear field of fire.
That gave me a good view of the situation in my living room.
Our prisoner was kneeling in front of the fireplace, chains binding her arms behind her back, ropes holding her legs together. Without her mask she proved to be a rather mousy looking woman. Tan skinned, dark hair, and wide, terrified eyes staring up in front of her.
Ser Thrask had his sword drawn, and was currently holding it at the throat of an uninvited guest, who himself had a sword mere inches from the prisoner's neck.
The white-haired man turned at our arrival, glaring over his shoulder...
...letting me see glowing lyrium brands running across tanned skin, an unpleasant grimace marring an otherwise handsome face. He wore partial-plate armor that looked like it had seen better years, and which had far too many spikes to actually be practical.
...and so I finally met Fenris.