Hey there, so get ready for a LONG chapter.
I'm excited to see what you guys think.
Happy Reading!
~Garnet
Halamshiral
The summons were mailed in a severe red envelope with a wax seal of twin daggers set in silver lacquer. Inside was an official invitation to attend the coronation, masquerade and banquet celebrating Briala as empress of Orlais. Sara stared at the neatly penned invitation numbly. She hadn't expected for Briala to act so quickly; it had been less than a year since she came to Kirkwall with her threats and extortion. Sara wrote to Leliana and Cassandra about her suspicion that Briala would murder Celene, but they could hardly act without proof.
Earlier that winter, Empress Celene's heart stopped in her sleep. According to Leliana, no one in the imperial court suspected a thing. All the same, the three of them discussed ways to combat any other of Briala's plots and decided to allow some of Leliana's agents in the Chantry to spy for a while. That worked in garnering information, though Briala was living very innocently since Celene's death. They'd almost stopped investigating until Sara received the invitation to the coronation.
She would be crowned on the summer solstice, so Sara had time to prepare. She wrote to many, requesting their presence at the ball, including Josephine, Dorian, Cullen and Vivienne. She wrote to Dagna as well, hoping that through her she could reach Sera. They all agreed to meet in Kirkwall to discuss a formal plan before traveling to Halamshiral where Briala would be crowned and take formal residence as empress.
The former Inquisition met at Varric's keep three weeks before the coronation. As Sara walked through the halls and into his parlour, a subtle fluttering began in her stomach. She was faintly enthralled by the prospect of entering back into her former life. After losing her arm, she never thought she'd be in a position of action again, but thanks to Dagna and Bianca, she had the ability to fully lead. She never thought she'd miss it after ending the Inquisition but she'd been wrong about many things.
The parlour was full, bustling with activity, the aura thick with determination. Leliana, dressed out of her Divine garb in common clothing, with looking over a map with Cullen, Cassandra and Josephine as if no time had passed since they'd last seen each other and they were back in Skyhold. A small cluster of Chantry sisters stood quietly toward the back of the room and Sara was sure that they were special agents for Leliana. Vivienne glanced around the room primly, followed around by a procession of mages that looked as unimpressed with the keep as Vivienne. Dorian and Varric chatted casually while Iron Bull, an unexpected face, sampled wine with Sera, Krem and the Chargers.
Gazing about the room left Sara overcome with gratitude at their devotion for what the Inquisition stood for. The first person to notice that Sara had arrive was Cullen, who immediately sunk to his knee reverently. Person by person either knelt or bowed and a rush of sudden strength struck Sara. They were depending on her to have the capacity to lead and she refused to disappoint them.
"We are ready to serve at your side again, Comtesse," Cassandra said firmly, to which many offered nods of approval.
"Thank you," Sara replied. "I am indebted to all of you and will never forget this."
"Don't think on it too much, Sara," Dorian said with a smirk. "We all actually have death wishes and delusions of grandeur. To live 'normal' lives would be far too humdrum for us."
"Yeah," Sera agreed. "Where's the fun in that?"
"So, what's going on now?" Bull asked. "I thought our plans were to find Solas and stop him."
"Our plans in that regard haven't changed," Sara explained. "However, Briala's ascension is a pressing issue if she did murder Celene. Pairing that with the exodus of city elves and the lack of word from the Dalish worries me. Frankly, this may all lead back to Solas but we won't know that unless we investigate."
"Briala's coronation will be a fine opportunity to discover what she's planning and determine if she's connected to the missing elves or Solas," Leliana stated.
"I don't believe she's working with Solas intentionally," Sara interceded. "She made it quite clear that she saw him as an enemy."
"That may be true," Leliana allowed. "But she may have only been trying to gain your support by having a common enemy. As a spy, lying comes naturally to her."
"Is that all you would have us do?" Josephine asked. "Investigate."
"Yes. Gather information and observe. We'll discuss what we learn after the festivities are over," Sara said. "Within this group, myself, Leliana, Cassandra, Josephine, Dorian, Vivienne and Varric have received formal invitations. We will actively investigate while there. Sera, I'd like for you to contact our friends in Orlais, especially Halamshiral, to see if they know something we don't."
"Alright, Mumsie," Sera replied. "Simple enough."
"Hawke will also attend," Varric said. "I can tell him to keep his eyes open."
"Great." Sara met eyes with Bull. "You're with me."
He smiled, excitement flashing across his face. "Good. It'll be like old times. What about the Chargers?"
"I'd like them to stay here," Sara murmured. "Briala found it necessary to threaten my twins, therefore, I need people I trust to look after them while I'm away."
"You never mentioned that in your letters." Cassandra looked at Sara sternly. "What provoked her?"
"Briala believes that I'm allied with Solas and thought that threatening them would scare me into working with her," Sara explained.
"Fucking bitch," Sera swore.
"We'll look after the children," Krem murmured. "It's not our usual gig but we'll manage."
"Speaking of the twins," Leliana put in, "I've brought one of my Sisters from Val Royeaux to come and look after them as well."
A small, meek looking woman dressed in Chantry robes walked to Leliana's side. She had big, warm brown eyes and a plump but welcoming frame. Her small smile radiated compassion and wisdom. Around her eyes were deep laugh lines which told more about her friendly disposition than it did about her age.
"Allow me to introduce Sister Mary Forrest. Before she came to Val Royeaux, she was working across Thedas as a healer, teacher and nurse for common children. I figured that while we were away, she would be helpful in caring for the twins. Unless, of course, you already have a nurse."
"I don't," Sara confessed. She didn't want her children to be around people she didn't trust but she also believed that Leliana wouldn't bring someone she wasn't sure about.
"I am honored to serve you in any way I can, Comtesse," Sister Mary said sweetly. "While you are away, you'll need someone to nurture as well as educate the children. If you would have me, I'd be happy to remove that burden from your shoulders."
"If Leliana deems you capable," Sara began with a breath, "then I'm happy to invite you in my household for a time. After I return from Halamshiral, we can see if your position will be permanent."
"As you wish, Comtesse," Sister Mary replied with a bow and returned to her place with the other sisters.
From there, they made plans to travel to Halamshiral discreetly and individually as to not reveal that they were all working together.
Bull and the Chargers lingered in Kirkwall for the few weeks before the coronation. The morning Sara and Bull departed was excruciating. She'd never been apart from her children and the idea of leaving them anywhere without her was nearly incomprehensible. They were so little. Only three.
All the same, she had to leave them in order to protect them. And if all went well, she would only be away for a little while. No more than a fortnight.
They took a quick liking to Sister Mary, so that eased several of Sara's worries. She didn't doubt that they would be well looked after while she was in Halamshiral.
She held back tears as she embraced them and stroked their hair, committing every detail of them to her memory. Aiden wept, red with sorrow, and clung to the front of her cloak although Amelie was more confused and curious than upset.
"Where are you going?" she asked, her thumb between her lips.
"To another country," Sara explained simply. "To visit with a friend."
"Why can't we go with you?"
"It isn't..." No, she couldn't tell them that it wasn't safe. It would only lead to imagined danger and fear. "Children aren't welcome there," she explained instead.
"Unfair," Amelie muttered glumly.
Sara laughed gently. "I know, da'len. And I'm sorry but I'll only be away for a little while." She rocked Aiden, who'd calmed in her arms. "Alright? Only a little while. I promise."
She gave final tight hugs to each of them and swallowed the lump forming in her throat. As she climbed into her carriage, Sister Mary took them by the hand and said, "I'll treat them as if they were my own, Comtesse. You have nothing to fear."
"Thank you," Sara replied and all too soon, the carriage began to slowly creak with movement.
"Ar lath ma, Mama," they called, squirming away from Sister Mary to follow behind the carriage.
"I love you," Sara called back, her voice breaking slightly. She waved until she could hardly see them in the courtyard and took a breath to sooth herself.
The Iron Bull occupied the space in the carriage across from her and stroked his chin uncomfortably. "Hey, uh, I'm not good at these sort of things, but-"
"You don't have to say anything, Bull," Sara replied. "I'm fine."
He sat back against the cushions and looked at her observantly. "How long is the trip to Orlais?"
"By ship? Four days, perhaps five. And half a day to Halamshiral once we port," she explained.
"Good. That should give us plenty of time."
Sara shifted nervously. "For?"
"When's the last time you had a good fight, Boss? Four years ago? I bet you haven't even given your fancy new arm a decent test run yet." Bull's chuckle was a low, deep rumble. "Everyday on this ship, we are going to fight until fighting is second nature for you again."
"You honestly think that five days is enough time?" Sara asked, her eyebrow raised in doubt.
"Well, no, actually. But it's enough time to get you familiar again. In case something happens in Halamshiral and I'm not around." He shrugged dismissively. "Hopefully, it's all for nothing, but if not, you'll be prepared."
"It's a good idea," Sara allowed. "Using this arm is nearly second-nature now, but, sometimes, the fingers lock and I can't seem to focus on the movements."
"Considering the arm you lost was your shield arm, all you'll have to do is build your endurance."
"In five days?"
"We've done harder thing in less time. Remember the three dragons in Emprise du Leon? We killed them in 5 hours." Bull smiled in remembrance. "Now that was a good fight. Seemed like every time we killed one, another would fly overhead. We were tired, cold and injured, but wouldn't stop until they were dead. I love fighting like we've got nothing to lose. It makes me feel alive."
Sara remembered the fight, though not as fondly as Bull. During that visit to Emprise du Leon, she learned that her clan was slain by bandits. She was grief-stricken and reckless and should've retreated from the ruins sooner. Fortunately, she, Bull, Cassandra and Solas managed to trudge back to camp after the dragons were slain. Being that close to dying seemed to cut through her despair and remind her why she needed to live. For the memory of her clan and for others she could spare from death.
"It can't hurt," Sara murmured, "to begin training again."
"I'm ready to see that fire come back into your eyes, Boss," Bull grunted. "If we go to the Winter Palace and our enemies sense any hesitance, we're fucked."
He wasn't wrong. Briala wouldn't be intimidated by verbal threats in her own space. As soon as she set foot in Halamshiral, Sara needed to have an air of physical strength as well as cunning. If Briala discerned weakness, she would take any opportunity she could to capitalize on it.
"You're going to hit me with a stick a lot aren't you?" She asked with a nervous laugh.
Bull chuckled and glanced out the window. "Yup."
"Come on! Pull, Boss!"
Sweat streamed down Sara's face, neck and back; her arm was pulsing with overuse and she could feel her fingers begin to slip from the ropes Bull had thrown around the mast of the ship.
Their first day sailing was the least painful by far, though that day began with swats to her legs with a thick plank to "master fear". Every time she flinched, Bull would smack her legs.
"Josephine made me promise that I wouldn't leave marks anywhere the nobles would see," Bull explained with a shrug. "And I'll stop when you don't anticipate the blow."
Eventually she stopped flinching and the first day ended with her soaking in salt water to help the bruises on her thighs fade. The second morning, she was abruptly woken by water splashing on her face. Before she knew what was happening, Bull tossed her over his shoulder with little effort and made her climb around the hull. She nearly slipped and fell in the Waking Sea too many times to be safe. Once she shimmied around the entire ship, they ate breakfast and sparred until sunset.
The days went on in a flurry of fighting and intensive exercise. On the final day, when Orlais was so close they could see the shape of the harbor, Bull strung rope to the fore mast and asked her to climb to the top of the mast and retrieve a flag he placed near the sails.
She climbed, the height of the mast making her stomach tighten. She tried to keep her palms from getting too moist, though her wooden arm was more supportive than she would've expected. As she neared the top, her right arm tingled with pain and she eventually dropped it and held on with her wooden fingers. A wisp of violet silk fluttered in the wind a few feet away, its distance taunting her.
Enough of this, Sara thought, blowing her hair from her eyes with a huff. She settled her feet on a lower rope and caught her breath before using all of her energy to launch herself in the air. The silk slid through her fingers and she nearly missed it before it gathered around her finger. A brief grin flickered across her face; it evaporated as soon as her other hand missed the rope and all too soon, she was falling.
"BULL!"
"I've got you, Boss!"
She landed in his arms with a hard thud and they fell to the deck clumsily. Iron Bull was breathless with laughter as Sara struggled to stand. She tossed the flag onto his face and stretched. "I meant to do that," she mumbled.
"Sure you did," he replied sarcastically, his laughter slowly subsiding. He stood and exhaled. "Alright. As a reward for sticking it out with me the past few days, I got you something." He fished in his pocket an pulled out a skinny dagger sheathed in leather and sewn to a thin lace garter.
"You won't be able to carry your sword in the palace and this time we won't have guards around to arm you, but you'll need something in case things go to shit," he explained.
"Thank you," Sara replied. "What do you think about Briala? Do you think she really killed Celene or was just trying to intimidate me?"
"I wouldn't put it past her to secure her position then remove her rival," Bull muttered. "In the same breath, it's too early to say whether she's actually that cutthroat. Her threats to you were suspicious, but if she really sees Solas as an enemy, she could be a good ally. Say she didn't kill Celene: if I were you, I'd try to smooth things over with her."
"If she is innocent, I'll consider it."
The rest of their journey was uneventful. After they docked, they rode to a small inn outside of Halamshiral where they prepared for the ball for the final three days before the event.
She dressed for the ball slowly, making sure that nothing was out of place. After a long soak in a bath, she rubbed perfumed oils on her entire body, pulled on a pair of silk stockings and clasped her dagger and garter around her thigh. Over that, she wore a thin underskirt and a tightly laced corset. Her gown was a deep, imposing red damask with short sleeves that cupped her shoulders and was belted at the waist with a chain of silver. She painted her lips with red rouge and pulled a nugskin glove onto her wooden arm to mimic the feeling of skin, then pulled on a pair of white satin evening gloves that clasped above her elbow.
Stepping into her shoes, Sara glanced at herself in the mirror and took a calming breath. Everything will be fine, she told herself once, twice, thrice, and again.
It became her mantra as she rode with Bull to the Winter Palace. Her mind didn't quiet itself until they were greeted in the courtyard by impeccably dressed human servants.
"Well, that's new," Bull muttered under his breath.
"Yes," Sara agreed. As they continued through the palace, she noted a flipped dynamic of power. The few humans that attended were vastly outnumbered by elves draped in silk and jewels, glowing with new influence and wealth. Part of her wanted to flush with pride with them, but the other was cautious and worried.
Among a sea of mistrust, there was a single familiar, welcome face.
"What a severe tone of red you're wearing, Sara," Dorian commented with a wry smile. "You could almost pass for some wealthy black widow."
"I'll take that as a compliment," she replied, looking over his own regalia, a confection of violets, greens and blues. "And may I commend you for looking more like a peacock each time I see you."
Dorian chuckled deeply. "Thank you." He gave Bull an approving once over. "I ought to let you borrow him more often. Did you make him shave?"
"I made a suggestion," Sara replied with a shrug.
Bull snorted, his arms crossed stubbornly. "I know how to put on airs for these sorts of things without either of you."
"Of course you can, Amatus. Forgive us," Dorian murmured sweetly, but with a hint of sarcasm. Bull bristled, nearly melting in his own skin, before grunting, "I need a drink. I'll find you if something happens, Boss."
"Have you seen any of the others?" Sara asked Dorian.
"No." He folded his arms. "One of Leliana's agents told me that the empress asked to meet with the Divine and Cassandra so they've probably been up there." Dorian pointed to an upper gallery in the center of the ballroom where a line of elven guards stood resolutely, robbing the guests of a view of their new empress.
"She must already be receiving threats," Sara commented. "Why else would there be so many guards?"
"Whoever has her worried would be good to know," Dorian replied. "I'll ask around."
"I'll see what information I can find in the apartments." They parted ways for a while that night, though it was more difficult than Sara would have anticipated to wander, unfollowed, as it seem that all the apartments off the ballroom had guards posted by the door. Pairing that with a particular dark haired girl that followed her around every corner confirmed Sara's suspicion that Briala planned on having her followed.
She wasn't surprised, as Sara could unravel her throne with the right whisper in the right ear. She only suspected Briala of killing Celene, but many would likely jump at the chance to remove Briala from power. Alternatively, Briala did fully believe that Sara had a lingering connection to Solas.
She knows about the twins. She suspects, but she's right and can never have certainty. If she decided to act... Sara didn't care to think on it further. Now, she was at an impasse; Briala made sure she wouldn't be able to investigate, so the only hope Sara only hope of gathering any information would be through playing the Game.
Of the people that would speak to Sara for more than pleasantries, there were only a few. Lords and ladies that fondly remembered her as the Inquisitor, tittered at her over how well she looked and how thankful they were over the Inquisition's efforts years before. They also gushed, quite sincerely, about how much they enjoy having an elven empress. Everyone Sara spoke to had nothing snide or informative to say.
Perhaps she didn't do anything to Celene, Sara thought after an hour or so of empty conversation. If that was true, then Sara had no reason to be concerned about the state of Orlais. All she had to do was convince Briala that she wasn't allied with Solas and quell her suspicions about the twins.
"Lovely party, no?" Dorian leaned beside her on a westernmost veranda that overlooked a hedge maze. "Everyone seems to feign happiness so well."
Sara chuckled humorlessly. "I never have to return to court. I don't know how you live like this."
"With a smile, plenty of wine and a draught for migraines." Dorian tossed his arm around her shoulder. "What have you learned?"
"Nothing. She may even be innocent," Sara confessed.
"Really? Well, I've seen stranger things."
"I think she's just trying to intimidate me into telling her information about Solas. Information I don't have, of course," Sara muttered, frustrated.
"Why is any of that information her business?" Dorian scoffed.
Before Sara could explain, they were joined on the veranda by the dark haired girl that had tailed her all night. The girl greeted them with a modest bow.
"Good evening. Comtesse, the empress requests your presence in the upper gallery," she said, her voice soft and airy.
"I would be honored to speak with her," Sara replied. She followed the girl back through the halls and into the ball room. Sara was glad to see Bull trailing a few steps behind her. After a short climb up a grand flight of stairs, Briala's line of elven guards parted to allow Sara to enter the gallery while Bull waited just outside the line.
Briala stood, her face a resolute mask of frost. She embodied pure elegance and was dressed in a gown of golden cloth, designed in the style of portraits of elven queens in Arlathan. Her royal crown was a circlet of twisted gold adorned with ruby roses.
"Comtesse." Briala nearly smirked in amusement. "I'm told you've been wandering the palace."
"The Winter Palace is such a marvel it offers something new to see every time I visit," Sara replied smoothly.
"Of course. You must forgive me, Comtesse. The palace is undergoing some renovation and it would not be safe for my guests to wander," Briala explained, her tone betraying the truth that she simply didn't want anyone snooping.
"I see." Sara took small steps toward her. "If I may speak plainly, I don't want there to be enmity between us."
"No one wants the ire of an empress, Comtesse," Briala replied smugly.
Ignoring her, Sara continued, "I think that we both assumed the worst in each other and were both wrong."
"I'm certain of your ties to Fen'Harel," Briala interrupted.
"You're wrong."
"And you're a fool if you think I'll put my guard down for a moment. I have not ever forgotten what he's done." Briala's face reddened considerably. "Sila Felassan."
"Who is Felassan?"
The empress' eyes narrowed and began to sparkle with moisture. She took a shuddering breath and composed herself before turning her back to Sara.
"Its time you left, Comtesse."
"Briala–"
One of Briala's guards stepped between them. "Farewell, Comtesse," he said and Sara knew it was over, at least for now. But at least she had a lead: a name. Felassan. Whoever he was.
"Well?" Bull asked when she emerged fro the gallery.
"Gather Leliana, Cassandra and Josephine for me. I think I may have a small lead."
Sara lingered and Bull went off to find their allies. Who was Felassan and what did he have to do with why Briala hates Solas? As Sara descended the stairs of the gallery, trapped in her musings, a small hand pulled her into an empty hall.
"Been looking everywhere for you, Mumsie. I didn't realize you were meeting with Her Grand Elfiness." Sera smiled sarcastically. "Anyway, whatever she was talking about couldn't be funner that what I know."
"What are the servants saying?"
"Well first of all, most of the servants are human now so that was weird. A bunch of poor sots that didn't have any other options. They don't complain much but the elves that used to be servants are all up their own arses now so... goody."
"Interesting," Sara murmured. "Have you heard any rumblings about Solas?"
"Nope. No mention of Wolf Nuts."
Sara couldn't stop the giggle that flew past her lips. "You know there's a word for wolf nuts in elvish."
"If I called Wolf Nuts wolf nuts in his dead language, he'd like it, so no, he'll always be common Wolf Nuts," Sera said firmly.
"Alright. What about the name 'Felassan'? Does that sound familiar?"
"Hmmm... Dunno. I can ask around." Before Sara could even caution her to be careful, Sera had disappeared from the hallway, so she made her way back to the ballroom alone.
In a quiet corner, far from the gallery, Dorian, Bull, Josephine, Cassandra and Leliana all stood, their expressions frustrated and tired.
"Dorian tells us that you no longer suspect Briala and only wish to ally with her now," Cassandra said, straight to the point, as ever.
"Suspecting Briala on little more than an instinctual feeling seems unfair to say the least," Sara replied. "And I don't want to be her ally but I also don't want to be her enemy. Finding out why she hates Solas is the first step in clearing my name, so with that, are any of you familiar with the name 'Felassan'?"
"No, Boss."
"Unfortunately not," Dorian replied.
"The name sounds familiar," Josephine mused, "but I cannot be certain."
"'Felassan' you say?" Leliana paused for a moment. "I believe Felassan was the name of her hahren."
"'Her hahren'? Not just a hahren?"
"If I'm correct, the man claimed no ties to an alienage," Leliana explained.
"Then he was Dalish?" Dorian supplied.
"Around Briala? That's unlikely." Leliana thought for another moment. "I don't remember exactly what happened to him, but I'll find out. In the meanwhile, try to seem inconspicuous."
Their group split for several moments, with Dorian and Josephine wandering the gardens for information while Cassandra sought to find Cullen and reaffirm their protection for the evening.
Sara circled the room, with Bull nearby, and asked after Felassan, but his name was not well known. She was beginning to lose faith when an older elf, with soft brown eyes lined with age approached her with a bow.
"My lady Lavellan, will you honor me with a dance?"
Sara faltered slightly but didn't see the harm in refusing him. When Leliana was ready, she'd have an excuse to end the dance.
"The honor would be mine." He led her to the dance floor and they made smooth, slow steps.
"I'm afraid we've never met," Sara said politely.
"Who I am is of little value. I am only a servant." He leaned close to her and whispered, "Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anaris."
Sara felt a chill run up her spine. She hadn't heard those words since her time in Vir Dirthara. It was Fen'Harel's greeting for allies and refugees. His greeting... Did that mean...?
"Is he here?" Sara asked, keeping her voice low.
Her partner's eyes flickered nervously before he simply replied, "He watches."
"He is here." Sara craned her neck to look around though her partner only smiled.
"He sends his sincerest regards and asked me to relay to you a message."
"Yes?" Sara could feel her heart drumming in her throat.
"He says that he hopes you find what you're looking for."
It was cryptic and unhelpful and so much like Solas she could scream. "Tell me what you know of a person called 'Felassan'," Sara requested firmly.
"Felassan?" Her partner frowned deeply. "A traitor."
"He was an agent of Fen'Harel, then. Why did he betray him?"
The elf shrugged. "I cannot be sure. His name is practically a curse to us loyal few."
"You curse him, yet don't know why he left your cause. He could have had a good reason," Sara argued.
"What reason could there be when the future of your people is at stake?" Her partner's smile was rueful. "Likely, Felassan forgot himself in this new world."
As Solas did, she thought, suddenly irked. He would likely say now that he "forgot himself" with me.
It seemed to her that if Felassan would be labeled a traitor for something Solas himself did, it was the height of hypocrisy. Before she could stop herself, she told the elf parallel to her, "Tell him I want to speak with him."
"That is not possi–"
"I must speak to him. Tell him it's about the empress and Felassan." Sara watched as her partner's eyes glazed over with apprehension.
"I will relay your message, my lady, but I cannot guarantee a response."
After they parted, Sara paced the room anxiously. Her desire for answers could potentially undo her. She hoped that Solas had more sense than her and would simply refuse to reply to her request.
"My lady Comtesse."
Sara turned to face another well dressed elf, this one younger than her dancing partner, who greeted her by taking her hand and kissing it.
"How good it is to finally meet you," he said and slipped a paper into her palm. "I hope you find the evening exhilarating."
"Thank you," she replied, her breath caught in her throat. When he departed, she walked to a lonely corner of the ballroom.
"What's that, Boss?" Bull murmured, suddenly beside her.
"A note." She looked over the note, her heart beating faster than she would have expected. "Solas is here."
"You're shitting me."
"I wish I was." Sara tucked the note in the bodice of her gown. "According to this letter, Briala has captors waiting for me in my guest chambers. Will you investigate this for me?"
"No problem. Stay here, Boss."
She would have liked to head his request, however, the part of the note she kept to herself read: I will tell you of Felassan, but no more. Find me in the southern garden.
Sara made her way to the southern garden without attracting any attention. The garden was empty and nearly silent, but for a light trickling of water from a fountain surrounded by roses. It was so quiet she could hear small footsteps approaching her. They were too quick in succession to belong to a single person so she hiked up her gown and unsheathed her dagger.
"Who's there?" she called.
The steps stopped.
Sara took a breath, her hand shaking. "Who–"
The blow to the back of her neck made her feel plunged in water, suddenly deaf and heavy. Her vision was leaving her as well, and the roses all collided together in a mess of red before complete blackness.
Elven Phrases
Sila: Remember
Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anaris: Phrase used to identify followers of Fen'Harel.
Loosely translates to "I promise that soon there will be freedom". (I dunno, I just write the tales. I'm no linguist haha)
(Thanks to Project Elvhen by FenxShiral for the vocabulary)
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