Hawke was drawing up maps for how she would go about infiltrating deep, deep into the Depths of Dark Town when the familiar knocking of Seneschal Bran Cavin knocked on the door to her office.
He had a very punctual way of knocking that man, four raps in short but repeating bursts.
"Why do enter Bran…"
The door opened and the redheaded man stepped inside, with a not-exactly-worried, but definitely suspenseful look on his face.
"Viscount, there is an urgent matter that must- What is that?"
"You're going to have to be a bit more specific Bran. There are a lot of things that's changed here you know?"
Hawke knew exactly what he was asking for, but it was not in her nature not to make a quip, or teasing every time the opportunity arose… To the annoyance, or delight of all around her.
The Seneschal pointed at her chest area with a truly horrified look."Th-That outfit! You cannot wear… THAT in office!"
"What, you don't like it? Tsk, tsk, tsk! And here I thought you actually had taste Bran. But I suppose good taste in partners isn't the same as STYLE!"
She dramatically posed to show off all the new features of her new outfit… An effect sort of ruined by the fact she did so sitting down.
The outfit was stylish though.
A perfection of a scarlet shirt, pants, and gloves of Highever Weave, and over it, dark metal armor covering her legs, knees, shoulders, and feet. Plenty of leather straps around her chest, along with a grey sash(Held in place by a belt) with a dozen, enchanted, hidden pockets, just like her cape.
Her absolute favorite part was the hands, the gloves of cloth and metal looking like talons.
It was the perfect Rogue outfit, as far as she was concerned.
The only thing left of the more subdued silks and royal garments she'd been wearing until recently was her crown… And that was only because she hadn't found something she could replace it with yet.
"You look like an antivan assassin, who decided to delve into the Coterie and Carta's wardrobes."
"That's… That's surprisingly spot on actually. I've been designing this outfit for years using those exact sources. I just decided that when I became Champion, it was time to finally change that into reality. Took a while before the tailor got done!"
Which was true… In that, the sash had only been done and finished yesterday. The rest had been waiting for a while until she had a mission at hand. Like delving deep, deep into the bowels of Kirkwall to kill Demons.
"That's even worse! You cannot wear such in-" "Actually Bran, I've been thinking about changing fashion at court completely. Make Kirkwall's fashion something unique you know? And of course, I would have to start such with my staff… Ah, but that's a task for another day… But you seemed to want something didn't you?"
He took the threat immediately.
Not that it would save him in the long term. She was thinking… Black leather coat and grey fur collar… maybe some metal boots, and a big leather belt.
"Um… Yes. There is an urgent matter that you must attend to immediately."
"What is it? Don't keep me waiting in suspense Bran!"
"The fleet from Ferelden, that is to carry the Elves from the Alienage has arrived, your Highness."
She blinked.
Then got up and pulled the curtains to the sides.
A small fleet of Longships and smaller Ferelden vessels were indeed out, floating in the bay.
"That's great! Let them dock, and begin the work to help the Elves leave. At once!"
"Ah… Yes… That has already begun… It was not the matter I wanted to inform you of."
"No? What was it then? Have the mighty Templars decided to kick up a fuss?"
"No… The matter is the fleet's leader. King Alistair of Ferelden."
That actually, genuinely surprised her.
She had been planning to build up some joke, but it died before ever being uttered.
King Alistair! He was here! The legendary Hero-King of the Fifth Blight. And if he had come… Maybe…
"Does he have an entourage?"
"Of course he does, he is King and-" "Well bring them here then! At once! Oh and give the chefs the order to make the absolute best food the Keep has to offer, with a big focus on cheese. Alistair is fond of cheese right?"
"If the stories be true…"
Bran bowed, and left the door behind, leaving Hawke to look out over the bay, and the ships in it.
Looking out over them, and the two massive chains across the waters that would prevent anyone from entering the Harbor if so desired, she was suddenly struck by a thought.
As great defences as the chains were, they did have the weakness that they didn't actually prevent anyone from entering the great bay itself. They were there to control and protect the harbor, but regardless of whether you came from the west, south, or east, there was a massive distance between the entrances and the harbor of Kirkwall or the Gallows.
She would need to work on those… Fortify the clefts in the stone somehow?
Something for a different time.
Her eyes turned from the window to her desk, where maps of Kirkwall's underground passages were laid before her.
She had been planning on dealing with the strange, underground chamber and the demons within today… But that would have to wait.
For now, she would have to play the role of Royal host… And maybe get to meet the greatest of the Age. The Hero who would surely be remembered as the greatest, and most influential Hero of the Dragon Age.
Her namesake, the Hero of Ferelden.
I
"Quite the welcome here, from the Templars."
The man who spoke was clearly King Alistair.
The way the party that had just entered through the doors to her Keep, all was centered around him kinda gave it away.
The incredibly detailed Plate Armor made of pure Silverite, fashioned with Draconic imagery also made it clear that whoever he was, he was far and away the most important man there.
Hawke smiled, imagining what sort of reaction he'd faced from the Templars.
"Oh, that's just their idea of Kirkwall hospitality.'
Everyone in the party stopped and looked up to where Hawke was up on the balcony above just outside the Guard's barracks, leaning over the railing.
"Really? Kirkwall hospitality must rip the skin off your face then."
He looked her in the eyes, his brown meeting her piercing blue.
"You're… The Viscount yes? Daemona Hawke… Well, that's gonna be awkward."
"Feel free to call me Hawke. Everyone else does. You're different than I thought you'd be."
"Oh, am I?"
"Yes. Your wife's biography describes you pretty well… But I got the impression you were a redhead, and had deeply tanned skin."
"Ah, so you've read that book have you? Good to know that thing spreads everywhere, even across the sea."
"Every Ferelden in Kirkwall who knows how to read has read "The Hero of Ferelden"... And a lot who haven't. The pictures are quite expressive all on their own."
"Good to know. Anyway, I'm Alistair, King of Ferelden."
A small cough sounded behind him.
"Oh right, and this is Arl Teagen. My uncle. Sort of."
"I see! My, the book didn't lie at all. You're quite the hunk Arl Teagen."
"So I keep being told." He said dryly. "I am married though…"
"Kaitlyn right? The granddaughter of the Dragonslayer."
"The same."
"Ah, it's good to hear Ferelden is the same as when I left it. A land of free people, where the nobility isn't living gated away from their subjects as if they were subhuman. But back to the point… I am Daemona Hawke, Viscount of this fine, fine City-State known as Kirkwall… And my hospitality is yours during your stay… Though I don't see anyone matching your wife's description in your party… Is she back on the boats maybe?"
"Daemona? No, she is back in Ferelden, ruling the country in my absence. Nothing new about that."
Another man might have been bitter about the implications of that, but Alistair took it, and the meaning of those words in stride.
Hawke though felt a pang of massive disappointment.
She had wanted to meet the Hero of Ferelden herself.
But apparently, she would have to do with King Alistair?"
"So… It's just you here then? You and Arl Teagen? None of the rest of your companions have joined you on the trip here?"
"No sad to say. This… Wasn't exactly a well-planned trip you know? Once we got your message, we had to scramble together a fleet and set sail as soon as possible. If we didn't, it's just begging the Orlesians to intercept us. Things haven't exactly been going… Well on that front to put it mildly. This is not helping matters."
"Really? Is there to be a war between Orlais and Ferelden then? The Grand Cleric was so sure there wouldn't be."
"Well, I sure hope so too!"
"You two are far more optimistic than I am."
"Regardless, some of the Orlesian Nobles thinks it would be grand to get "their" lost province back. This whole evacuation of Kirkwall's mages going wrong would be an excellent excuse for that."
"Well we won't let them swoop down on us will we?"
"That's right. Swoooping, is, bad."
Hawke grinned, as she stepped up, and began walking towards the stairwells, prompting the Ferelden group to do the same, just from the different side.
Maybe she wouldn't get to meet any of the other Heroes of the Fifth blight today… But she was quickly finding Alistair to be her kinda man. Not too stoic to not have some fun.
She found herself leaning up against one of the pillars, as Alistair and Teagen stepped up to her, the group around him forming a shield around most of the places they could be approached.
Not that they needed to have bothered. The place was currently abandoned other than a few of her personal beurocrats and city guards. She'd given strict orders she didn't want anyone unnecessary around today as she met with the foreign king, and her nobility had dutifully gone home for the day.
It was… A surprisingly potent reminder of how powerful she actually was now.
That she could just order all the most powerful men in the land to just… Go take a break for the day.
"So, how did the Lord of the Elves take the news?"
"Garahel? Oh, he was over the moon. If Kirkwall hadn't been crawling with Templars, I'm sure he'd come in person to thank you openly… But unfortunately, he couldn't come and meet you here under the sunny sky, and so I had to come instead. Terrible job you know, traveling north and enjoying a bit of sea travel and the sun."
"Oh yes, it's a terrible job being monarch. We get to boss around whomever we want, and all we have to do is attend parties and meet with Diplomats and other heads of state. Truly an endeavor."
Alistair gave a sad smile.
"You… Have only been Viscount a couple of weeks right?"
"Yes."
"Keep hold of that sense of humor then. You'll need it as the years go on."
"I'll take your word for that… But I haven't lost it after all I've been through, I doubt my crown will manage to do the trick. In all seriousness though… It's sad he couldn't come himself. I had some gifts for him, I was hoping to give in person if I met him."
"Gifts? It's… It's us who are in your debt my lady, not the other way around."
"Well, that's true… Maybe I should ask for a full suit of Ironbark armor? Or maybe a Throne I could take with me to hold court when I travel my lands? But that is for another day. No, the gifts are simply things I have no use for… But he might."
Alistair took it calmly with a jovial expression, but Teagan raised an Eyebrow.
"Like what? Old Elven scrolls?"
"Oh, no I don't have any of those! I don't think so anyway… I do have a lot of ancient books and manuscripts I've never read just lying about in my Estate… But no, I was thinking more along things such as Warden Garahel's helmet. I'm sure that's something that would please both him and the Elves of new Arlathan greatly."
Even the guards around them turned to look at her, as she leaned up against the pillar, the biggest, shit-eating grin on her face.
Even amongst Humans, the legendary Warden was a figure of myth and legend. It was the equivalent of claiming you'd found the sword of Dane… Which Alistair's own wife had done during her travels."
"You have that? The actual helmet of Garahel? The Warden who ended the fourth Blight? Where in the world did you find that?"
"Oh, I have much more than that. In my travels and journeys, I have found things such as a full set of Enasalin, one of the enchanted suits used by Knight Enchanters during their final stand against the Tevinter Imperium at Sundermount, a channeling crystal from the original Arlethan which I don't know how to use, and a magical amulet that may or may not have been a literal tooth of Fen'harel the Dreadwolf. Oh wait you asked a question Teagen? Where did I get them? Oh, you know how it is, you find some old, unlooted dungeon, that you're the first decent sort to step into in Centuries, and you stumble across legendary treasures every step you take."
Teagen looked immensely skeptical… But Alistair laughed.
"Isn't that the truth of it? You should see the museum my wife has put together in Denerim out of all we found traveling. About the only thing we didn't find out of Ferelden legend was Calenhad's silver armor."
Teagen frowned.
At first, Hawke thought it was due to continued skepticism regarding legendary artifacts, but no, that wasn't quite it.
"Your Highness, have we met before? Up close you look… Familiar."
"Oh no I don't think so… But you have met one of my relatives. Amel the Circle mage who traveled With Alistair and the Hero of Ferelden."
Teagen's face turned into a downright hostile frown, while Alistair's mood dipped noticeably.
"Oh. Right… I can see the resemblance, yes..."
"I never met my cousin. Was the way The Hero portrays-" "Yes it was accurate. Amel lost his mind ages before we met… I mean, allying with Werewolves because it would be badass? But if you're that interested I could tell you more, minor things that didn't get into that blasted book becaus-" "Hawke!"
Every one of the guards stiffened, their hands going down to their sword sheets, while Teagen and Alistair snapped around.
Hawke meanwhile calmly turned her head at the voice as Aveline materialized out from one of the castle doors by the barracks.
"What's going on here Hawke? I just got back from an investigation, and my guards tell me you cleared the entire Keep. Why? And who are these two?"
"I'll introduce you! Let her pass gentlemen, this is just my trusty Guard Captain Aveline."
Aveline did indeed get to pass and placed herself beside Hawke looking the two foreign Lords over with a not exactly approving look.
"Haven't heard the news have you? I would have thought they'd have reached you… But anyway, Gentlemen, this is my guard captain Aveline Hardyr, nee Vallen, nee Du Lac."
"Du lac? From Orlais?"
"I'm sensing a story here…"
"Oh, there is, but introductions first. Aveline, these gentlemen are Former Ban, now Arl Teagen Guerrin of Redcliffe, and King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden."
The moment of complete, incredibly satisfying shock washed over Aveline's face… Less satisfying for Hawke, was the way she went to one knee.
"Your Majesty may I say… What an Honor it is to meet you."
"Well you could, but you'd be the first today."
"How come you never bow like that before me Aceline? I am your sovereign now, you know."
Alistair seemed to find her lowkey indignation rather funny.
"Old friends right? Don't worry, you'll get used to it. You never do get the same respect from those who knew you from before you wore the crown."
His tone made it very clear he was rather fine with that.
Aviline got to her feet, and still with a far more stiff, parade-like body language than Hawke was used to seeing from her, spoke.
"I… We… Me and Hawke I mean, fought at Ostagar. What happened there was… A great tragedy."
"Ah… Yes. Yes, it was. Thankfully, the man responsible has paid for that."
If Hawke recalled correctly, Loghain's head had suffered the same fate as Queen Moira and the usurper King from Orlais, and had been mounted outside Fort Drakon, his body given to a random pyre, and ashes unceremoniously dumped in the sea.
The book hadn't been clear what had happened to his daughter, but her lands had been confiscated and given to the Paragon Moria as a boon from Alistair, much the same way as the Brecilian Forest had been granted to the Elves, so she probably wasn't doing particularly well either.
"That's well to hear. Always satisfying to hear wicked men getting exactly what they deserved."
I
Varric was watching the Elves who were in the process of helping out the Alienage Elves in transporting their personal goods to the ships they would be assigned.
It was a rag-tag operation.
A lot of things such as chairs, tables, wardrobes, and all the accommodations that made a real home were too big to be put together with the living elves, and so had to go on transport ships. Which meant tagging, and then transporting many hundred pieces of furniture.
He'd hoped to catch Daisy somewhere, but she wasn't anywhere to be found in the Aliengae. So she was probably at the Keep with Hawke.
As he was about to give up on the search though, somebody called out his name.
"Tethras! By the Maker's holy beard is that you?"
The voice was, as he recognized immediately, Dwarven.
More specifically it belonged to an old friend of his.
"Brognar! Now that's a surprise, you're the last Dwarf I expected to find here."
The dwarf, clad in thick, but not exactly true heavy armor stepped up to him with a grin.
"You thought you'd see me next time at night with a dark hood right? Hah!"
He laughed uproariously, making several of the very busy Elves around glare at him.
"Well, those days are behind us. House Cadash is once again a part of good, Dwarven society!"
'Really? He actually went through with it? Letting surface Dwarves back into the castes?"
"Well… No… I'm still effectively casteless… But that's not as bad now as it used to be… House Cadash are now effectively the rulers of the old Cadash Thaig. But… Maybe we should have that conversation somewhere more private? I have some stuff I wanna ask you about before I meet the Viscount."
Varric nodded, the possibilities of what exactly might be going on in Orzammar flowing through his mind.
"I got a place not far from here."
Not too long afterwards, the two dwarves seated themselves around Varric's table in his own "Suite" at the Hanged Man.
Brognar ran his hand over the table, clearly impressed with the stonework.
"I have something like this back at Cadash Thaig… Nowhere near as good though. The Orzammar Dwarves might carve way better structures, but we surfacers long ago passed them when it comes to furniture."
Varric chuckled as he poured two tankards of beer. Real beer, not the stuff they served down below.
"Add it to literature, farming, and all sorts of machinery. There isn't exactly a shortage of things we do better."
"Don't let the "proper" Dwarves hear you say that. They are livid enough as it is that we're allowed down below ground again."
His tone betrayed his words quite openly, being completely irreverent.
"I can imagine. I'd be shocked if the entire Nobility wasn't fighting tooth and nail against every single one of Bhelen's reforms."
Brognar laughed, then took a deep swig of the beer.
"Ahhhh… I'd almost forgotten what real alcohol made of grain tasted like. The swill we make in Cadash from mushrooms is pure piss by comparison.
Varric, who had actually tasted that kind of beer nodded, as he took his own, far less deep sip of beer.
"Truth be honest though Varric… Bhelen's biggest concern isn't the Nobles. He has plenty of supporters there, that sees which way the wind is blowing… Or whatever it is the underground equivalent is. No, the biggest problem is the damned Miners."
"Wait, the miners? Really?"
"Oh yes, it's the might of the mining guild that keeps Bhelen's reforms to save the Dwarven race in its tracks. Terrifying no? A group whose only purpose is to dig holes."
"Why are they opposed to them? Shouldn't they be happy they got access to so many new, untapped mines?"
"You'd think so, wouldn't you? But no, the Mining Caste throws a hissy fit every time the idea of former surfacers or Casteless taking up a pick, and doing their "noble calling" alongside them."
"What, they don't wanna be foremen and overseers?"
"You'd think they would, but they fight tooth and nail against it. The Warrior Caste is settling into using Casteless and Surfacers as expendable shock troops, always thrown first into any situation where high casualties will occur. They understand what the Casteless roles in the new order are, and have adapted. The casteless get paid, are still completely subservient under any member of the warrior caste, and it's still the caste that gets all the glory. It's not a perfect solution… But it's one people can work with. Not so much with the miners. There's not exactly room for an underclass there."
"And the Mining Caste is the beating heart of Orzammar's economy, yeah… No wonder he has to tread lightly with them. But then again, that's nothing new there. Traditional Dwarven politics have always been the dumbest shit there is."
Cadash laughed.
"Ah that's why I love you Varric, you got actual brains, but you don't hold your tongue about the bullshit all around. But yeah, the mining caste is the biggest obstacle to Bhelen's new order. The rest of Dwarven society is willing to tolerate it. Results speak for themselves after all…"
That part was true. It was mostly those results speaking for themselves that had gotten Hawke to the position of Viscount.
"So… How did you guys end up as "Lord" of Cadash Thaig?"
"Ah… I was wondering when you'd get to that. See Varric, most of the old Thaigs are completely underground you know? But Cadash? The entire ceiling is cracked open so sunlight goes straight in. And not just a couple of rays either."
"Ah… So no "Proper" dwarves want to take the chance to live there?"
"Yep. There's talk of completely rescinding the old laws regarding the whole "One glimpse of the sky stripping you of your caste." Or at least changing it. Best time for it too, given the entire warrior caste spent lots of time above ground during the Blight."
"Think he'll actually go for it?"
"Bhelen? Oh yes. That guy hates tradition even more than us. It's the whole reason he's doing so well… But I don't think he'll change those laws without recalling the assembly to legitimize it… And he won't do that before he's in a way, way better position than he is now."
The more he heard, the more Bhelen actually seemed like he might pull this all off.
"So, what's the long-term plans for House Cadash? I'm guessing you won't be able to remain kinda lords forever?"
The older dwarf got serious, his smile fading.
"Did you know Varric, that just before the whole Blight came knocking, there was a movement to allow former nobles topside to maybe return to Orzammar to rejoin their caste? This all happened before the last king died."
"I can't imagine that went anywhere."
"It didn't. But there has been more productive talk about it later after Bhelen took the crown… The big sticking point though, is stone sense. Without it, we aren't getting back our rightful, official place as Deshyrs and lords of Cadash Thaig… But we've been doing a bit of… Digging around let's say. And from what can tell, there is some evidence that while you can never regain it yourself if you weren't born with it… You can breed it back into the family line, from a family that has it. If that turns out well… Well Khaza has no Stone Sense at all… But if my Grandkid does… We'll be lords again. And as for my people… Well, we have resources, coin, experience, whatever. But we don't have Stone Sense… But the Casteless do."
"So you intend to encourage mass marriage then?"
"I don't see why not. Thaig Cadash will always be of a separate breed with that hole in the sky to light it up. No reason we shouldn't get Stone Sense back at least. Other than miners and Traders, nobody wants to even come close to our Thaig… And even then they only hang around on the corners, never actually venturing in, where the "Terrible blue hole above awaits them!". HAH!"
"Reminds me of Barthrand. He always used to look up absolutely terrified into the clouds when he went outside."
The two Dwarves laughed, clanked tankards together, and took deep draughts of the beverage.
"Ah, it's good to talk to somebody who isn't related to it all… But enough about that… I didn't seek you out just to catch up on the news back home."
He turned deadly serious.
"I'm the sorta an unofficial ambassador from Orzammar, and I've been sent to do some unofficial deals with the new Viscount. You know how it is. Someone does the real work, brings it back home, Bhelen can take credit, and nobody asks for details on how he arranged it. I hear you're kinda close with the new lady in charge."
Varric had known that Bhelen would send a middleman to him. He hadn't known who but he had pretty much figured it out the moment Cadash began talking.
"Guilty as charged. And don't worry about it. Hawke isn't really interested in courtly bullshit. I'll arrange a meeting, and put in some good words for you. She is pretty eager to get a good deal with Orzammar, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem to arrange something that benefits both cities."
"Thanks, Varric. I knew I could count on you!"
"It's what I do."
I
They were several hours into a big feast at the Keep to honor their guests when Alistair slipped her a note.
She'd been rather enjoying herself, having a friendly discussion about Ferelden with her fellow Monarch, listening to interesting tales… Including when she introduced Alistair to Isabela, upon which she had learned to her great amusement that the Pirate knew Alistair from an encounter in the past when she'd been in an orgie with King Garahel, one of the other Elvhen wardens, and the Rogue Zevran.
Alistair had apparently been a witness to the whole thing being set up but swore he'd not partaken in any of it himself.
Regardless of the truth of that part, it was a fun story that wasn't included in "The Hero of Ferelden."
The Queen had been stupidly detailed and honest in pretty much anything that included politics, apostates, and outlaws, but plenty of lesser stories like this had been forgotten or most likely left out intentionally.
And it wasn't just from Ferelden. She and her little group of friends had plenty of stories of their own, even if the resident storyteller Varric wasn't there. Of her usual company, Bethany, Carver, Isabela, Aveline, and strangely enough Fenris had been or come to the Keep in time for the feast.
The rest had decided not to come.
They were in the middle of a retelling of their push into the Deep Roads, and meeting with bizarre rock Demons, with Isabela being the current speaker when Alistair pushed over a slip of paper over the table towards her, while his other hand was under his chin in a contemplative manner, with an expression to mask as he stared at the Dusky Rivaini intently.
Hawke took the slip, gave it a short read before it vanished into her sash.
It was blessedly simple.
-Go to Merril's house at Midnight. The Girl will be there, along with Sabrae's Keeper, and an important visitor from New Arlathan-
It was blessedly simple and to the point.
About ten minutes later, she checked her Dwarven Pocket watch, a piece of marvelous engineering, taken from a slain foe long, long ago.
There was still plenty of time to get there after the party had quieted down and everyone went their own way for the night.
And sure enough…
I
An hour before Midnight, she slipped out of the Palace and began making her way down to her Estate.
Nothing out of the ordinary with that.
When she got inside and out of sight though, she quickly moved her way down into the basements, and after moving some crates she was out into Darktown.
After that, it was down, down, down, until she reached the tunnels that took her underneath the river to the east side of the city… And not long after that, she made her way to an opening in a warehouse just by the Alienage.
All in all, it had taken her 47 minutes of running, jumping, and stealth to reach here.
The irony that she, one of the people who probably knew the secret tunnel network underneath Kirkwall better than anyone else alive, was also the one who wanted to put them out of use, was not lost on her.
After that, it was a calm walk outside and a stroll to the gates of the Alienage.
Strangely enough, no one was outside. That was odd. They weren't even close to being done with the work evacuating everyone and everything yet.
She'd have figured out that at least somebody was still outside trying to get some last-minute work or preparations for the morrow done.
There wasn't.
That could not be a coincidence.
The only Elf she did see on the streets was Merril, who was fidgeting about outside her own house… At least until she saw Hawke, upon which she suddenly became much more calm.
"Hawke! It's so good to see you! You got a message from Maretari to come right? I did. I've been working all day, but then as I was going home, I got a message from the Keeper that I couldn't come inside before you came at midnight.'
Hawke raised an eyebrow at that.
"I did get a message… And I suppose It might have been from Maretari… It told me I would meet her here, along with an "Important visitor" from New Arlathan."
"From the Kingdom? You don't suppose the King sent someone personally do you?"
"Probably. I got the message from King Alistair. But let's keep whoever it is, waiting."
The two of them opened the door and stepped inside.
The thing she noticed the moment the door was opened was a sudden… Charge in the air.
Magical power that had NOT been here the last time she had seen it.
She found her hand instinctually on the hilt of her dagger, while Merril gasped softly, as they stepped inside.
At first, she assumed that it was the same feeling she had just felt, but that wasn't quite it.
There were two people in the room.
One was the Keeper Maretari.
She was sitting by Merril's table, with a concerned expression, but which lightened up as she turned her head and saw Hawke and Merril. Her worried frown became a soft, if tired smile.
On the table, was a long, very pretty-looking sword that mixed silver, gold, and black into its steel.
The other figure, however, was one standing over by where Merril kept the big, mystical mirror she had spent years trying to regrow and fix.
Said mirror was glowing with a faint, but yet still immensely strong light.
The contradiction that was those levels of intensity vanished, along with the light, as the figure turned.
He was tall as far as an elf went. About Hawke's own height.
Long, golden locks, fell about a handsome, pale face, with a golden Vallaslin she had never seen cresting his face as a crown in the middle of his forehead, and tree branches spiraling out down his nose, and the sides of his face. His face was comely and handsome enough, with an imperial-looking nose, and piercing blue-green eyes like the sea.
He had some truly massive ears, but the thing that struck Hawke the most was his clothing. She had expected something truly Elvish from this visitor… But instead, he dressed in high-quality white half robes open in the front, with emerald-green trim.
Around his waist, he had a sash very similar to her own, and covering his chest a silverite breastplate with the New Arlathan coat of arms emblazoned. A green, leafy mask, inside of a striped shield with gold and white lines on a slanted angle. The shield itself was placed on a green background.
Not that any of those colors were in the breastplate, but every single detail of that coat of arms was there in the silvery metal.
On his shoulders and arms he in turn was also armored with similar silverite pieces, if not quite as well detailed.
And finally, he had a set of leathery gloves and boots.
She did not recognize the national origin of the armor, but she did recognize it from elsewhere.
She distinctly remembered one of King Cailin's Grey Warden's friends wearing an assembly like this… Though he had been dark orange, and pale, pale yellow.
She was about to make some quip when suddenly Merril stepped forward and just like Aveline earlier, she went to a knee, kneeling before the figure in front of her with her head faced downwards.
"I… I welcome you to my home my Lord… I am sorry it's a bit of a mess."
What caught Hawke completely off guard wasn't just what Merril did, but the tone as she spoke.
It wasn't like Aveline, respectful, and humbled.
No, it was filled with Awe. As if she was talking to Andreste or some other legendary figure… It clicked for her.
She knew who he was.
"You… You're King Garahel. Lord of All Elves, and King of New Arlathan."