Eleven
Carastes 9:29 Dragon
Enchanter Marianna handed him the sealed envelope with a smile on her face.
"What is this?" Cassius asked, looking at his name written in shaky, blocky script on the front.
"Just open it," she said with poorly restrained excitement.
Cassius flipped the envelope over. The wax seal on the back was not that of the Circle, but instead a seal he didn't recognize. The paper on the envelope was thick and crisp and made a wonderful sound as the edges of the firm paper scraped against each other as he lifted the flap and pulled out the letter within.
Apprentice Cassius Terro:
Congratulations, you have been selected as one of many young, aspiring students of the Circle to serve in the page program at the Magisterium in Minrathous. This honor is bestowed upon high-achieving secondary students who have proven their competency and dedication during their studies.
The page program is a four-year commitment. Students will be required to travel to Minarathous by First Day in Verimensis and will assist their assigned Magister and/or other legislative staff for the entirety of the term, lasting through Eluviesta in odd-numbered years and through Nubulis in even-numbered years.
After completion of the four-year term, pages will return to the Circle to complete their final two years of study before commencement and assignment into service for the Imperium.
Your assignment for this term is:
MAGISTER FLAVIUS ARRENTIUS
ASARIEL ON THE WATER
We look forward to your service to the Imperium.
Ever in faithful service,
Valerius Titan
Magister Superiores
The signature of the chief magister of the upper house was in a different script than the rest of the letter, suggesting that someone else had drafted the form letter and he had merely signed off on it. Below, there was a note scrawled off to the side in a third hand.
Cassius,
I look forward to meeting you and hope that we will work well together this term and beyond.
– Flavius Arrentius
Cassius lifted his eyes from the letter and back up to his instructor.
"Is this real?" he asked.
Enchanter Marianna was nearly bouncing with excitement and couldn't control herself as she bounded forward and hugged him.
"Yes it's real, Cassius," she said, squeezing him. "I'm so excited for you. Do you know what kind of opportunity this is?"
"How did this happen?" he asked, still slightly dumbstruck by the development.
Marianna let go and stepped back, dabbing the corners of her eyes with her fingers. She clasped her hands in front of her, still beaming from ear to ear.
"I recommended you!" she said, her knees bouncing slightly as she said it.
"You… recommended me?" he said, still confused.
"Of course I did!" Marianna said. "You've really proved yourself this term. You've demonstrated strong control of your magic and I've watched your confidence and power grow. And you've shown much more dedication to your studies than most of the class. You're exactly the kind of hard worker who would be perfect to serve as a page."
"But won't there be a lot of reading and writing involved?" he asked.
"Did you have any trouble reading that letter in front of you?" she countered.
"No, but–"
"You have nothing to worry about, trust me," Marianna said. "Your writing is fine. You'll do fine."
"But–" he started again.
"No buts!" Marianna said, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around, pointing him toward the door. "You need to get packed. There will be a ship in the harbor tomorrow heading for Minrathous. It's a two, sometimes three-day ride to the capital depending on the weather. You'll need to make sure you have everything you need for three months for the short session."
She gave Cassius a gentle shove and he shuffled forward to the doorway and he stopped in the frame and turned back. He smiled.
"Thank you, enchanter," he said. "For believing in me."
Marianna smiled warmly back.
"You're welcome, Cassius. Remind them what us Praeteri can do," she said, then waved her hands. "Now go! Go! You've got a lot to do."
Cassius made his way through the winding halls of the Circle tower, passing other students and open doors, seeing none of it as he walked as if in a daze. Minrathous? He had never been. And not just the capital, but the Magisterium itself?
He had been born a farmer's son. The Circle in Carastes itself was an entirely new and wonderful world, one that his family never could have dreamed of. Now, he was being ushered away to the oldest and grandest city in all of Thedas. He would be working side by a side with a magister. The only magisters he had ever seen were the few that toured through the Circle, or those who came to collect their children at the end of the term.
He knew of Asariel by maps only. The magister to which he was assigned, Flavius Arrentius, was little but a name. He knew nothing of Imperial politics or the men and women who plied their trade in it. What kind of man was Magister Arrentius? A clever orator? A cunning statesman? A backwater politician? He must have been a Laetan and low-ranking at that. Why else would they assign Cassius to him?
As he arrived back in the dormitory, he pulled out his pack from under his bunk and began to fill it. Packing would not be a laborious ordeal. He had few possession to his name beyond what the Circle gave him — smallclothes and robes and provisions enough to conduct his studies. He had obtained a few small trinkets of his own, things the instructors had gifted to him or items he received as payment for helping others with their chores or studies.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Cassius looked up from his pack to see two other boys at the foot of his bed. They were both a year older and a year ahead of him in their coursework at the Circle. They lived a floor up, but often liked to walk down a floor or two, causing trouble.
"Don't you have anything better to do, Jax?" Cassius said as he folded another one of his robes and stuffed it into the bottom of his pack, trying his best to ignore them.
"I'm checking the dorms for fleas," the dark-haired boy said. "Figured I might as well start with the filthy Praeteri mongrels."
"What's this?" the brown-haired one said, reaching down toward the envelope Cassius had left on the bed. He reached for it, but couldn't get it before the older boy snapped it up like a snake plucking prey from the grass.
"Give it back, Plin," Cassius said, reaching for it, but the other stepped in between and bumped Cassius backward with a shove.
"What's it say, Plin?" Jax said as he crossed his arms over his chest, sneering at Cassius.
"Blah blah blah… page program?" Plin said with a snort as he flipped the letter and envelope out of his fingers, the papers fluttering to the ground. "Magister Arrentius?"
"Arrentius," Jax said before bursting into a laugh. "Figures that they'd send him someone like you. Give the most worthless magister a worthless mudraker like you."
Cassius continued to fold his clothes and pack his bag.
"Well, last I checked, neither of you were selected to serve in the Magisterium," Cassius said.
They laughed at the notion.
"I'd rather die than be caught running papers around the capital like some common slave," Jax said.
"Yeah," Plin agreed. "If I want to go to the Magisterium, I go with my father as the heir to his seat there. Not as some obedient service dog."
"The page program is for pathetic nobodies," Jax said, emphasizing it with a two-fingered shove to Cassius' shoulder. "Pathetic nobodies like you."
Cassius glared. Jaxxon Terititus and Plinius Paverii were both first-born sons of magisters and made sure no one forgot it. They were both of old and deep Laetan bloodlines in the east. They were actually distant cousins, as the bloodlines of elite families were often so criss-crossed that most ennobled magi in the Imperium seemed to be connected somewhere in their family trees.
They were somebodies, while they were inarguably right that he was a nobody.
"And yet, you're still here and I'm on my way to Minrathous," Cassius said, letting his anger overwhelm his good sense to just bite his tongue until they got bored and moved on. "I'm not surprised, though, for Jax-Shit and his Plenis always stuck firmly between his ass cheeks."
Their joking demeanors instantly went dark at mention of the nicknames usually whispered behind their back. Jax never did do any actual work, resting on the laurels of his lineage to help him cruise by in the Circle without expending any effort, while Plin clung to him so closely that some had started rumors that they were more than just friends.
"You fucking Praeteri shit, I'm gonna–"
"Boys!" The booming voice from the doorway interrupted Jax before he could squeeze out another word. Enchanter Marianna stood in the entry tapping her foot. "Isn't there somewhere you're supposed to be?"
"Yes, enchanter," Jax said, while never taking his furious eyes off Cassius. "We were just stopping to congratulate Cassius on his selection to the Magisterium."
"I'm sure you were," Marianna said without disguising her sarcasm. "Go on. Off with you."
The two older boys shuffled off. Marianna walked over and bent down, picking up the letter from the floor and sliding it back inside the envelope, closing the flap.
"You shouldn't provoke them," Marianna said as she handed the cream-colored envelope back to him. Cassius took it and lowered his eyes and nodded, sliding the letter into the front pouch on his pack. Marianna looked over her shoulder as she sat down against the edge of the bed and then leaned closer and lowered her voice. "Jax-Shit, huh? I haven't heard that one yet. I'll have to remember it."
Cassius smirked and his teacher did too as he went back to filling his pack.
"Before you left, I wanted to give you something," Marianna said as she reached into her pocket. "I don't know what your level of devotion is and I hope this isn't presumptuous, but I wanted you to have this."
The blazing sun medallion dropped from her fingers and dangled at the end of the simple chain. The sun on the pendant was painted on in gold and not the precious metal itself, and looked a little worse for wear.
"This was a gift from Magister Annothomopolous, who gave it to me when I served her during my time as a page," Marianna explained. "She was a low-ranking Laetan magister, nearly eighty during my first year with her. Compared to someone like Magister Arrentius, she was nothing. But she was a devout woman and she served Tevinter and the Imperial Chantry to the best of her ability. She helped me get my position as an enchanter here at the Circle.
"When I would make a mistake, or get anxious that I was about to make one, she always used to smile and tell me not to worry, that 'the Maker never gives us more than we are capable of handling.' Whenever I would doubt myself, she was there to assure me that I was doing better than fine and that I would find my way and my place in time," Marianna recalled.
"She sounds very kind," Cassius said.
"She was," Marianna said with a sigh. "And she was the last of her line. When she died, there was no one to take her place. All of the other mages in her bloodline had either died fighting Qunari or died of illness. House Annothomopolous no longer exists."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Cassius said.
"Funny thing is, she wasn't," Marianna said. "She never lamented that her family would end with her. She thought it was silly that her value might solely be determined by only her name. Instead, she tried her best to do deeds that might long outlive her, and tried to invest her time and wisdom into people like me, that someday we might grow ourselves to do the great deeds she never could."
Marianna placed the medallion and chain into Cassius' and closed his fingers around it.
"Now it's your turn, Cassius, to rise to become more than your birth."
Asariel: 9:41 Dragon
Cassius hummed as he walked down the hall, swaying his arms, rocking his daughter as she blinked up at him, eyelids growing heavier and heavier.
When Anna's cries woke him and Andria in bed, he had placed a hand to stay his wife as he rolled out of the bed to attend to their child. Anna had woken and wet her diaper, or perhaps awoken because she wet her diaper, but after a quick change into a dry cloth and a little gentle cooing, she had quieted in no time at all.
Cassius had lifted her to his chest, resting her head against his neck and quietly slipped out of the bedroom to leave his wife to rest. Like most nights past, Anna was awake but quiet — a true blessing, Junia had told them and then shared which of her five children had not been so placid, Valerie and Kordelia the worst among them — so he had opted for a short stroll around the house in hopes it might help her slip back into sleep.
It might have been midnight, Cassius guessed as he looked out the window at the height and light of the waxing moon in the sky. It would be several hours still before dawn. The manor was dark and quiet as everyone stole what sleep they could.
Cassius was content to slip from bed for these quiet, solitary moments with his daughter. His days were occupied by his work assisting Magister Arrentius, so it fell upon Andria to look after their girl during the daylight hours. The days so far were a mix of good and bad.
Andria glowed as she recounted stories of those little moments of pure light and joy with their child, when Anna would look her in the eyes and make that momentary connection, or when she would eat well or fall asleep while cradled in her mother's arms.
Then there had been the days when Andria had been brought to tears by the evening when it had seemed like nothing in the world could placate and satisfy her daughter, when the baby's cries and tears cut her to pieces, like being slashed with a thousand daggers.
Junia was ever at her side or, at worst, a short summons away, ready to swoop in at a moment's notice to scoop her granddaughter in her arms. It frustrated Andria to watch how quickly and effortlessly her mother could take the inconsolable infant and turn her to putty, but there was something to be said for experience after Junia had raised and cared for five girls of her own.
But these late-night moments were his and his alone, for just father and daughter to enjoy. Although his eyes drooped with fatigue as he sat studying pages of reports day after day, being tired was a small price to pay for those quiet moments with his firstborn.
The stillness of the house was shattered by the sound of coughing from down the hall, quiet at first, but growing louder and more violent as it continued, deep and wet and barking.
"Shall we go check on grandpa?" Cassius asked his daughter. She gave no answer, except to look at him, listening. He took that non-answer to be an affirmative. "Yes, I agree."
Cassius reached the door of Flavius' office just as another bout of coughing subsided, with the magister grunting in discomfort as he took loud, sucking breaths behind the door.
Cassius tapped his knuckles against the door which was shut but not latched, leaving a sliver of faint orange light bleeding into the hall, and pushed it open, stepping inside.
"Special delivery," Cassius said quietly as Magister Arrentius looked up from his desk to see his son-in-law and granddaughter slipping in.
"My dear girl," Flavius said as he placed his pen down on the table and slid back from the papers. "Bring her here, Cassius. I need to rest this damned foot of mine anyway."
Flavius pushed his chair back from the table and stood, grimacing as he did so, grabbing his cane and resting heavily on it as he steadied himself on his bad foot. He shuffled slowly out from behind the desk, hobbling to the armchair and cushioned stool near the mantle. He backed into the padded chair, dropping his weight heavily into it with a tired thud, before resting the cane on the side of the chair and grabbing his leg to hoist his foot up and onto the stool.
Even in the dim, Cassius could see the knot around his big toe, swollen and red. Flavius placed his fist to his mouth and coughed hard again, the rattling cough racking his chest and causing him to wince every time his body jerked, no doubt sending jolts through his gouted foot.
"You should be resting," Cassius said as the cough fit subsided and as he lowered Anna into her grandfather's arms. Flavius, too, was no stranger to children in his household, and the magister melted into his seat with his first and only grandchildren nestled into his arms.
Cassius turned toward the fireplace and positioned another log into it, poking the wood until it began to catch. The room was too dark and cold, too cold considering the amount of coughing Flavius had been doing the past week. The physician had come by two days past at Valerie's demand, but had not found Magister Arrentius to be actively ill. The cough was a concern, but merely a nagging, straggling holdover of an old illness. It would abate in time, with rest, he promised.
The problem, however, was that Flavius was not resting, as he kept himself locked away in his office nearly all day poring over papers, conducting meetings with visitors called to the manor and working himself deep into the night.
"There's no time for rest," Flavius said, stifling another cough. "I've just finally gotten the Venatori's affairs in order. Supply lines have been smoothed out. Troops are getting where they need to be and are adequately provisioned. It's disgraceful how they expected our men to bumble around the south.
"There are some problems, however," he continued. "This damnable Inquisition continues to harry our supplies. They have a demon's knack for knowing just where and when to hit. It's causing me no small amount of frustration."
"Still, you need to consider your health," Cassius said. "For your family."
"This is for my family," Flavius reminded him, rubbing a finger against his granddaughter's cheek. "All of this is for them."
"I know, my lord," Cassius said, taking a seat near the fire across from his patron. "But please don't deprive them of you. You need your rest."
Flavius scoffed as he doted on his granddaughter. Her eyes were on Flavius too as she squirmed in her swaddle. Flavius breathed slowly and deeply, taking the moment to relax. His eyes drooped. Cassius could see the fatigue scrawled all over his face.
"I received a letter from my brother," Flavius said. "Marinus has been returned home, safe and sound, although with no shortage of unkind words for you, my brother says. The boy is too hot-headed and stupid to realize you saved his life."
"I'm glad to hear it," Cassius said with a nod.
"And the excavation in the desert is progressing well," Flavius said. "Juliex expects they should be able to crack the first thaig within the month. Hopefully they'll find something worth all the effort."
Cassius looked at the end table next to Flavius' chair, noticing the familiar sigil on the outside of an envelope face up and open on the table. Had he really managed to lose track of time so badly? Since his daughter's birth, days melted together so that weeks had felt like days. Flavius had once joked that was the beginning of getting old. Your first child arrived, you started to lose track of time and then, before you knew it, your hair was turning gray and starting to thin.
"The Magisterium," Cassius said, pointing to the open envelope on the table. "I hadn't thought about it, but I suppose First Day is coming up sooner than later."
"Yes," Flavius said, turning his head and he tried to swallow down another deep cough. "And I've been meaning to talk to you about that. I–"
His sentence was cut short by another cough, growing into a series of coughs, racking his entire chest as he leaned forward and extended his arms for Cassius to take his daughter from him as he doubled over, hacking and choking on his own breath until finally it subsided. Flavius wheezed, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief produced from his pocket as he rubbed his eyes of tears of exertion and straightened in his seat.
"This damnable cough…" he said, taking two deep breaths and settling into the chair again. Anna squirmed in Cassius' arms at the boisterous noise of Flavius' coughing. He wiped his mouth again with the corner of the handkerchief before slipping it back into a pocket.
"I won't be going to Minrathous this term," Flavius said, glancing down at the envelope and then back up to Cassius.
"My lord? But it's the long session this year," Cassius said. "Your input will be needed in committee. And the Venatori, certainly they'll be looking to you for leadership now that we've lost Magister Alexius. Your voice is needed."
"I'm needed more here," he said, gesturing to the stacks of papers on his desk. "I already have more than I can handle with the Venatori. And, as much as I hate to admit it, I'm not sure my health could take four months away in the capital. I can't breathe. I can't walk. My stomach isn't what it once was and my kidney is stoned again. No, I'm in no shape to go anywhere."
He wasn't wrong. Valerie had been nagging her father to slow down, frequently reminding him of his many conditions and the toll they were taking on him. He kept brushing her off — years of raising her had made him wise enough to know better than to surrender any argument to her easily because she would only come back twice as confident that she would win the next one too — but there was no denying that she was right.
Even Flavius could no longer deny it.
"Well," Cassius said, resigned to the facts. It was the right decision. The magister's health was more important than anything that would transpire at the Magisterium. "The chamber will be lesser this year for lack of your wisdom."
Flavius chuckled at that, a chuckle that started to turn into a cough until he stopped and waved it off.
"I only said I'm not going," the magister said. "I don't intend to leave my seat at the table vacant. Maker knows some of those dolts would bring the Imperium to ruin without me there to stop them."
"Marinus?" Cassius asked. He had just mentioned his nephew earlier in the conversation. The young lord was, for now, the named heir to the Arrentius seat in the Magisterium.
That elicited a snort from Flavius, which again threatened to turn into a cough before he stifled it. "Maker, no. That hot-headed nephew of mine is the last person I'd send. That's half the reason I need to look after my health, so I can live long enough for Anna's gift to manifest so I can disinherit the idiot.
"No, I have much better and wiser proxies to send in my place," Flavius said.
"Proxies? Plural?" Cassius said, catching on the word.
"Yes," Flavius said. "It's time for Valerie to step into her role as my heir. She's no mage, but you and I both know how the girl loves an argument. I can't think of anyone better to send to Minrathous to fight for our interests."
It was all starting to make sense now. Flavius had called on his first daughter much more often than usual, summoning her for hours-long meetings in his office and study. Cassius had only noticed in passing as his time had been consumed by his own duties and his daughter, but now that he thought on it, she had been much more scarce around the manor than usual.
Flavius must have been preparing her for weeks now for the session, sharing his mind with his eldest daughter so that she would be of single mind with him, to speak and act in his stead as he might if he were there himself.
The Magisterium was a foreign world to her. She would never be able to assume his seat in full for herself some day, so there had been little need to have her shadow him and learn the trade of the halls and chambers of the government. Instead, Valerie's education had been geared toward household management. She had been taught and trained to manage books, to oversee personnel and to keep operations of the family's business in good working order. Without the gift of magic, that acumen not only helped to serve the house, but would make her a suitable match in marriage to a magister of her own, so that she might be able to manage his home while he was the one away for months at a time in the capital.
Valerie had inherited her father's temperament and passion, but had also been gifted her mother's intelligence. In Cassius' eyes, there was nothing she could not succeed at when she applied herself.
It would be a learning experience, but Cassius suspected that she would rise to the challenge.
That left only then the plural part of "proxies." And Cassius understood well what that meant.
"And what do you require of me, my lord?" Cassius asked, not waiting for his patron to acknowledge that he was to be the second to serve in Minarathous in the magister's stead.
"I need you to take care of Venatori matters. There will be discussions about our next moves. We have suffered defeats, but I have received word that we are ready for our next move. What that may be, they have not said," Flavius said. "There will be a conference of our magisters to discuss. I need you to represent me."
"Yes, my lord," Cassius said, dipping his head in deference.
"Whatever they ask of us, make it so," Flavius said, placing his hand to his mouth and coughing into his closed fist. "The Venatori has my full support. We must commit any and all resources to make sure we succeed. If they need money, I will send you with deeds to mortgage or sell. If they need men, send a letter and I will draft them. If they need slaves, I will find them.
"We must succeed," Flavius finished, his tone grave as he uttered the words.
There was a moment of quiet. The flames in the hearth flickered. Flavius looked upon him, the lines of his face signing the declaration, as dire and serious as a man signing a warrant for his own execution.
Magister Arrentius had already committed years of work and heaps of coin to the Venatori. He had been there since nearly the beginning, even when the Venatori had little to offer but bold promises and faith. But men like Flavius and Gereon Alexius and others had turned the movement from wishful thinking and air into a force. The Venatori faction had risen from nothing into its own solid bloc within the Magisterium and beyond.
They were still a minority caucus within the Magisterium, but what faction could claim majority status nowadays as splintered as the families were? Many of the old-school conservative families did not openly support the Venatori, but neither had they made any measure to thwart the movement's rise. Even the more liberal families did little to oppose them, preferring to fling the tag "cultist" at them, turn their noses up and ignore it as a curiosity.
Being ignored by most had turned out to be a blessing, allowing their leaders and agents to build the Venatori slowly, magister by magister, supporter by supporter. Ideas took time to grow, a seed planted and watered, grown over time as their leaders had observed what was transpiring across the Imperium and placed their lens in front of it, so that others might view what was happening from their perspective.
In time, the message began to make more sense to more and more, and they had grown to what they were today. The Venatori controlled enough power, influence and money to wage its own war, a war that Tevinter itself did not acknowledge or condone, but also did not stop. It was the type of war that should have been waged for centuries, the war that had been ignored for too long and allowed the southern Chantry and its follower nations to grow in strength, strength enough to oppose them.
And then, with the Qunari threat ever off their shores and the obsession of some magisters to wage that war at any cost, it was plain to see why Tevinter had become what it had become and why those who walked the path of the Venatori marshaled to its cause.
For men like Flavius, failure could not be tolerated.
Everything rode upon this. This was the magister's gambit. If it failed, it might be the last he would ever get to make.
"I will not fail you, my lord," Cassius said as he bowed his head, his eyes falling upon his daughter in his arms as his face dipped. She was so beautiful, so precious. And yet again, he would need to part from here. "Anna…"
"Will be well looked after by her mother in your absence," Flavius assured him. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I suspect Junia will be overjoyed to see you go. She will no doubt swoop right in to fill your place while you are gone and do so gladly."
Cassius snickered. "You're probably right."
"I regret having to ask you to miss four months of your daughter's earliest days. I realize the sacrifice I am asking you to make," Flavius said, sounding slightly more somber now. "I do not take it lightly."
"Flavius," Cassius said, bowing his head again. "As I have said a thousand times, I will say once more. I am ever in your service, whenever, however you need me. I have bound myself wholly to you and your family. And I will never hesitate to fulfill my duty to you."
Flavius smiled and rested his hands atop his rounded belly, leaning back more deeply and nestling into the padded armchair. For a brief moment, he looked content, as he nodded his approval.
Cassius pushed himself up from his own chair and Flavius blinked heavily and yawned widely, stifling another cough as his yawn stretched his lungs and came to a close. "I should get Anna back to sleep, and myself as well. I will need to inform Andria tomorrow and begin making arrangements to travel."
"One last thing, my son," Flavius said as Cassius turned toward the door.
"Anything, my lord," he said.
"Keep my daughter safe in Minrathous."
Cassius nodded slowly. He had spent enough time within the halls of the Magisterium to know precisely what his patron meant. It was not the threat of physical harm that gave the father concern for his daughter, but whispers and lies that could cut as deeply and painfully as any blade of steel.
"Absolutely."
By the time he made the return trip down the hall, rocking Anna softly in his arms, she had drifted back into slumber.
Andria did not wake as he entered the bedroom and gently placed his swaddled daughter down in her bassinet and closed the opaque curtain around it to keep out the night's chill. As Cassius straightened, he made eye contact with the slave standing pressed against the wall in the corner of the bedroom, an elderly elf woman who stood as unmoving as a shadow, eyes forward and completely silent.
He recognized her as one of the slave elders. In her younger years she had wet nursed in the Arrentius household, but now was well past the days of providing surrogate feedings for the magister's infant daughters. Still, she was regarded as the chief matron slave of the household. She could often be found corralling Servilia after her latest escapades before her parents found out whatever mischief she had been up to, or could be seen watching quietly over Flavia as she played on the beach or in the gardens or throughout the household.
She might have been close to seventy years now, Cassius guessed, and was, without doubt, one of, if not the most respected slave in the household. That itself was evidenced by the fact that the overseer allowed her to keep a short crop of white hair atop her head, while all of the other household slaves were kept bald. That was a sign of decades and trust and faithful service, a privilege the overseer did not dole out flippantly.
It was in that moment that Cassius realized he did not know her name. He had been within Magister Arrentius' household for twelve years now, had crossed paths with her thousands of times and now that she was standing sentinel watch over his own daughter, to be ready at a moment's need, he recognized that he did not know her.
Cassius stepped to near where the slave matron was standing — she did not move or make any acknowledgement that he existed, perfectly trained to be invisible except when called upon to serve — and pulled a chair out from the corner table.
"You may sit," Cassius said, gesturing to the seat.
"Yes, domine," she said and obeyed, sitting straight up in the chair and resting her hands across her lap as she had been trained to do when slaves were ordered to sit. Her gaze again set looking straight ahead, focused on nothing so that she saw nothing, as was required of all slaves.
"What is your name?" Cassius asked.
"Carolin, domine," she answered without moving her eyes.
"Carolin," Cassius said, feeling the name on his tongue for the first time. Now that he heard it and said it, he realized he had heard it before, only that he had never connected it to her person. "You may be at ease."
The slave matron blinked as if she had just woken up, like a statue first animated to life. She changed her posture, exhaling quietly in a sound of discomfort as she found a more natural sitting position. No doubt the rigidity and stillness required of slaves would take a toll on a woman as old and slight as she had become.
No doubt she would thank him, except that slaves had been trained not to speak unless being spoken to. To utter appreciation for the simple kindness of being able to sit would not be acceptable.
Cassius took note of the canvas bag on the small corner table next to her, to the rolls of yarn protruding out of the top of it and the metal needles jutting from the bag.
"You may continue your knitting," Cassius said.
"With respect, domine, but I do not want to disturb your rest," she responded.
"I won't be disturbed by the quiet clicking of your needles," he assured her, gesturing to the bag again. "I insist. It must be boring to simply stand watch in the dark all night."
The slave reached to the bag and retrieved her project-in-progress, a light pink knit that had the early makings of a long-sleeved shirt.
The winter months in Tevinter never got terribly cold, per say, at least not compared to the chill that had permeated his bones while in Ferelden, but there were times when temperatures dipped down, at least relative to the normal comfortable warmth of Asariel on the water. Infants appreciated the extra warmth, regardless, so many of the slaves — Junia and Andria too and even Kordelia at times when her mother forced her to sit and do it — had taken to knitting Anna a plush and warm winter wardrobe.
"Thank you," Cassius said to the slave. "For being here. To help. I greatly appreciate it."
The slave matron smiled, a serious break in her otherwise religious training. "It is my pleasure, domine," she said, breaching her training yet again to add, unsolicited, "It is so good to see another child in this house."
"I'll leave you to it," Cassius said as he tiptoed around the bedroom to the opposite side of the bed. The covers he had left loose when he got up with Anna had been sucked in by Andria, who dozed peacefully with the blankets pulled tightly around her in a ball. Rather than disturb her, Cassius went to the chest at the foot of the bed to retrieve another blanket for himself.
As he opened it and reached for the blanket, he stopped as he took notice of his travel pack also tucked into the corner of the heavy wooden box. He reached for it first, pulling it out of the trunk, as he would need it to start making preparations for travel north to Minrathous again. As he lifted it, he noticed the weight of the bag, remembering that it wasn't empty.
Magister Tilani's package of papers purporting to detail Magister Arrentius's finances still sat tucked into the bottom, unopened.
"If they need money, I will send you with deeds to mortgage or sell. If they need men, send a letter and I will draft them. If they need slaves, I will find them. We must succeed."
Magister Arrentius' words rang again in his head. Just weeks ago, he had delivered a full chest of gold to support the cause. Now, as the Venatori prepared to make its next move, Flavius charged him to provide whatever support they needed.
Cassius grabbed the extra blanket and closed the chest, setting both the bag and the blanket on top of the lid. He glanced at Carolin, who was quickly and deftly knitting and paying him no mind, as she was trained to do.
He had not looked through the package of Mae's papers. Nor had he simply thrown them away. He had previously resolved before to leaf through the papers, if only to try to verify their authenticity and to then decide the best way to dispose of them.
Now, with a return trip to Minrathous looming, the wrapped parcel of papers at the bottom of his pack called to him. If he were to commit the resources of House Arrentius to the Venatori, it would be prudent to go in armed with the fullest knowledge available — if Magister Tilani's was genuine at all and not some fabricated ruse.
Cassius opened his pack, retrieved the bundle of papers and went to the balcony, shutting the windowed door behind him as he settled into the chaise under the beams of the moon. He quickly traced a pattern in the air, summoning a small ball of magelight to shine down on his lap.
He looked at the wrapped package once more, took a breath and opened it, tossing the wrapping aside. He looked down at the stack of papers and at a small, yellow, square card resting on top.
Dorian said you were righteous of heart.
If you're reading this, Cassius, you've proved him right.
My apologies for doubting him, and you.
I hope you find the answers you're seeking.
–Mae
Cassius scowled, pushed fire through his fingertips and watched as the card burned quickly, flicking it into the air where the ash blew away in the breeze.
He looked down the first document at the top of the pile, picked it up and began to read.
By the time he finished with the stack, it was daybreak.
