Chapter 2

Minrathous, Tevinter Imperium; 9:40 Dragon

The thick scent of herbs and chemicals filled the room as Xari carefully stirred the contents of her alchemy vial, her brow furrowed in concentration. Livia stood beside her, watching with a mix of pride and patience, her hands clasped behind her back. "Precision is everything, Xari. A single mistake could turn a healing tonic into poison." Xari nodded, her gaze fixed on the swirling liquid as she added a drop of crushed lyrium. The vial fizzed, releasing a faint glow, signaling that the mixture was correct. Livia smiled. "Well done. That concludes your studies for the day. But remember, control over your craft is as important as control over yourself." With a final approving glance, Livia turned toward the door. "You're free to go." Xari's heart lifted at the prospect of a rare break. With a nod, she gathered her things, the weight of her alchemical tools feeling lighter with each step toward the door. She was eager to meet her friends at the market, where, for a fleeting moment, she could forget the pressures of family and duty.

Xari exited the lab to make her way through the corridor into the main entrance. The Mercar estate was an imposing yet elegant structure, nestled in the heart of Minrathous. Built in 8:52 and passed down to Erynd, the graystone walls were adorned with gold accents that gleamed in the sunlight. Tall windows allowed natural light to flood the rooms, making the estate feel larger than it was. High ceilings and intricate arches added to the sense of grandeur, while the large courtyards and lush gardens provided a serene escape. Though not the largest estate in the city, it exuded wealth and authority, a place of both comfort and hidden expectations.

The walls of her home and the sunlight it invited were comforting to Xari. She enjoyed sitting on windowsills, allowing the warmth to soak into her cheeks and bring her freckles to life. Sometimes Theron would join her, or wave at her from the courtyards. However, the magnificence of it all brought out another feeling. She wasn't sure what to name it, but it made her heart ache just a little. The Mercar estate, with all its grandeur, felt like a beautifully gilded cage—a home she occupied, but one that never truly felt hers. Eventually, Kaelon would inherit the estate. If not Kaelon, Theron would be next in line on the will. If Xari was lucky, she would inherit some gold and maybe some of her mother's heirlooms. But the ache she felt was not rooted in materialism and inheritance; she was living in the shadows of a family she did not belong to. When she would have these thoughts, she punished herself for being ungrateful. Xari had been told the story of how she was found as a baby and accepted into the Mercar family. Of course she loved them, they saved her and treated her like their own. How could she feel any other way, after all of the opportunities she had been given?

Now thirteen, Xari had known for a few years she was not related by blood to the Mercar. Even if no one had told her, it was evident by looks alone; her ringlets of raven-black hair and sunkissed skin, even in the winter, compared to the Mercar's straight, bronzed hair and fair undertones. Xari's eyes were like gems of Alexandrite- emerald by day, amber by night. Her frame would be delicate if she hadn't been raised in a military family; one could tell she was athletic and sturdy. Unlike her father and brothers, Xari did not excel in combat as a tank or warrior. Instead, she was naturally drawn to the delicate yet deadly art of dual-wielding and cunning strategy. Her smaller size allowed her to slip through defenses, find weak points, and strike where it counted. While her brothers charged headfirst into battle, sporting heavy armor, longswords, and shields, Xari preferred to assess the battle from the shadows and strike with a deadly stealth attack. Even when backed into a corner, she was quick on her feet and wits. Her greatest strength was not, well, strength, but her mind. Xari had a knack for outsmarting her opponents and striking before they could even process their throat had been slit. Erynd, initially skeptical of her approach to combat, came to appreciate her skill. In his eyes, she offered a promising addition to the Tevinter militia. During a training session, he referred to her as "a dagger in a world full of hammers."

Of course, she'd never been in a real fight, not one that didn't involve practice targets, or her brothers in a training session. While Xari was certainly a talented duelist, this did not fuel her passion. It was simply expected of her, almost a chore. She did enjoy it, some days. But when she was busy throwing knives at dummies, her mind was usually wandering elsewhere. More often than not, she patiently waited until the sun hid behind the rooftops and was relieved of her lessons so she could resume painting, or meet her friends in Dock Town. She often painted the skyline of the city from her bedroom window. Other times, not often, she recreated the strange visions that visited her at night.

Livia called them night terrors, but while Xari did not fully understand what they were, she did know it was more than night terrors. It was as though something was calling for her, yearning for her to answer. She did not tell anyone this part, since she already stuck out from her family like a sore thumb. But the visions could scare her, especially when one moment she would be performing a task, and a vision would consume her. When it was over, she found herself unable to recall how much time had passed, or how she had gone from one place to another.

Once, she had been lying awake at night, looking for sleep to find her. Unsuccessful, she decided to grab her paints and recreate the moonlit landscape outside her window. She blinked, and instantaneously found herself floating in a dark void. Xari wanted to scream, look around, but she could not. Instead, she was frozen and terrified. "Kaelira," the void whispered around her. Red spilled around her, the whispers growing louder and more distorted. "Kaelira… Kaelira… Kaelira… KAELIRA."

With a gasp, Xari found herself back in her room, the void's whispers still echoing faintly in her ears. Her breath came in shallow bursts as the sight of the canvas pulled her attention. She jumped, knocking down her stool. It clanked loudly against the stone floor. Before her, the previously blank canvas was now filled with black and red paint. At first glance, one would believe a toddler had gotten ahold of the brushes and scribbled on the canvas. But looking deeper, forming what looked like the jagged outline of a dragon and a snake coiled around each other.

Behind her, Xari heard a gasp. She spun around and saw Livia at her bedroom door. Her mother's hands covered her mouth, eyes wide in horror.

"Mama, I…I couldn't sleep-"

Livia hurried across the room to Xari. She grabbed her by the shoulders and parted her lips to speak. She paused, eyes still wide. Xari stared back at her, scared and confused. Was she in trouble? What had happened just now? If Livia was going to speak, she chose not to and instead turned to grab the canvas. "Go to sleep, Xari." She made for the door quickly, the canvas in one hand. Her mother turned to face her, her expression now full of worry. "Do not speak of this." The door shut, and Xari was left alone. She definitely would not sleep now.

Her mouth watered and her skin became clammy. Before Xari emptied the contents of her stomach onto the floor, she ran to her window and swung it open. The cool, fresh sea breeze filled her lungs. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath in and out. In, and out. In, and out… her eyes opened and the nausea was going away. Her ringlets brushed her face in the breeze. She recalled the voices she had heard just now. Kaelira… the name was unfamiliar, yet she felt as if the voices were speaking to her. Who is Kaelira?

Xari did not know what time of night it was, but certainly late. Should she try to go to sleep now? No, she worried about having a night terror and being back in the void. Instead, she swung her legs over the windowsill and hopped onto the rooftop. Even at this late hour, she knew one person who would be awake too. Maybe.

This was not her first time sneaking out at night and navigating the rooftops of her estate into Minrathous. By now, her nocturnal escapades were a well-practiced ritual, each step memorized like a silent dance. She knew exactly which shingles on the roof would creak if she stepped on them, and exactly how many running steps to take to jump to the next rooftop. Xari knew how to distribute her weight onto the balls of her feet as she ran. Before climbing down the vine trellis on the outside of the estate walls, she checked her surroundings for guards. The murmur of guards patrolling nearby made her pause, heart thudding in her chest. She pressed her belly against the cool stone roof, counting her breaths until the footsteps faded into the distance. Once it was clear, she descended to the cobblestone street. Xari kept close to the walls, hopping over puddles as she made her way to the market. If Tarin was anywhere this time of night, it would be there.

The market at night was a world of its own, lanterns swaying gently in the ocean breeze. Stalls, half-covered with faded tarps, gleamed under the warm glow, and the air carried the mingling scents of roasted nuts, sea salt, and ripe fruit.

The palm reader, however strange he was, had a soft spot for orphans. Xari saw him at his usual spot, soliciting passersby for a glimpse into their futures. Once she reached the market, she no longer hid herself from the lanterns' glow. Her eyes met the eccentric palm reader's, and his eyes creased with a kind grin.

"Ah, my favorite night crawler is back. Seeking a glimpse of your future, or organizing an orphan's guild in my tent tonight?" He teased, twirling his mustache with his fingers.

"Hi, Seralys." Xari returned the smile while rolling her eyes. "No orphan meeting tonight, just couldn't sleep." She looked behind the man at her friend, who was sitting on a pillow, petting Seralys' pet dog. "I knew you would be here." She sat across from Tarin, holding out her hand for the dog to sniff before petting.

Seralys' tent was a vibrant oasis amid the gray streets of Minrathous. Silken curtains framed the entrance, inviting curiosity while shrouding the interior in mystery. Inside, the air was thick with the heady scent of sandalwood and incense, mingling with the quiet clink of hanging charms and beads. Plush rugs layered the floor, while low tables held curious trinkets—polished stones, worn cards, and vials of strange powders. Piles of brightly colored pillows surrounded a central throne-like chair draped in crimson, framed by strands of glimmering beads. Above, gauzy fabrics hung like a starry sky, and a brass incense burner sent curls of smoke spiraling upward, completing the tent's enchanting and slightly unsettling ambiance. It offered the perfect spot for a street urchin to rest.

"You know, maybe we should have orphan meetings. We can start an orphan committee, I'll be the treasurer." Tarin cracked a smirk.

Xari smiled, but her gaze drifted to the cobblestone. "I might not really be orphaned, you know."

"Yeah, and my parents are just on an extremely long vacation."

Xari raised her brow at Tarin. His humor was dark sometimes, supposedly a side effect of being an actual street orphan. Despite his circumstances, Tarin was very capable of taking care of himself. Rather than not having a home to himself, he claimed the city of Minrathous as his own. He made his way by selling secrets to nobles and mercenaries, whispers he heard on the streets or the docks. She admired his resilience, but also pitied him; he had no choice but to be resilient. Only being fourteen, and losing his parents so young, she was not sure if she could be so strong in his position. She felt the guilt creep back in.

"What brought you down here tonight?" Tarin stared at her, studying her mood.

"Like I said, I couldn't sleep. I had… another night terror." She knew that wasn't what it was, but did not want to explain further.

Tarin hummed in acknowledgment. "You hungry?" Reaching behind him, he presented a basket of bread, fruit, and cheese. Xari's eyes widened in excitement. She didn't even realize how hungry she was, even though she ate dinner. She grabbed a grape bundle and broke off a twig. The fruit merchant at night had the best grapes.

Seralys turned his head to face them and held out his hand. He grunted to get Tarin's attention, who tossed him a grape. Xari popped one into her mouth, savoring its sweetness. For a moment, the tension in her shoulders eased as the mundane comfort of food and familiar company grounded her. Tarin watched her with an amused smile, leaning back against a cushion and twirling a piece of cheese between his fingers.

"You know," Tarin said, breaking the silence, "if your night terrors are getting worse, maybe it's a sign you should talk to someone. Like a mage who knows about dreams or—"

"Or maybe not," Xari interrupted sharply, her gaze darting to the flickering lanterns outside the tent. "They're just dreams. They mean nothing." She hoped her tone was dismissive enough to end the conversation.

Seralys, who had been quietly arranging his deck of divination cards, raised an eyebrow. "Dreams are rarely 'just dreams,' child," he said, his voice low and almost playful. "Especially not in a place like Tevinter. The Fade has a way of creeping into our slumber, doesn't it?"

Xari stiffened but didn't respond. Seralys was peculiar, always speaking in riddles and half-truths. Yet, she couldn't ignore the unsettling accuracy of his words.

Tarin, sensing her discomfort, shrugged and shifted the conversation. "Well, whatever's keeping you up, at least you have me to keep you company. And Seralys, I guess."

"You're too kind," Seralys said dryly, tossing another grape into his mouth. He leaned back in his chair, the candlelight casting flickering shadows over his sharp features. His smile lingered, but his eyes seemed to catch something in Xari's expression—a storm she hadn't yet named.

Xari managed a small smile, but her mind lingered on Seralys' words. The name from her vision echoed in her head: Kaelira. It clung to her like a shadow she couldn't shake. Whatever was happening to her, it was becoming harder to ignore.

"Thanks for this," she said softly, gesturing to the food.

"Anytime," Tarin said, grinning. "But if you're ever looking for answers, you know where to find me—or Seralys. We're the best secret keepers in Minrathous." He winked at her and Xari nodded, though she doubted anyone could keep this secret for long.

—

The next morning, Xari made her way to the bustling courtyards near the training grounds, where the clatter of swords and the barked commands of drill instructors filled the air. Her friends were already there, gathered in their usual spot under a large oak tree that provided shade from the rising sun. Theron and Kaelon had already joined the ranks of their father's regiment, while Xari's other friends, Aurelia and Corin, lingered on the edges of the martial world. Corin, sharp-tongued and quick-witted, often scoffed at the rigid hierarchy of the Imperium's military, while Aurelia harbored a quiet resentment for the way commoners were dismissed as tools in the war machine. Xari, once captivated by her father's stories of honor and valor, had begun to see the cracks her friends pointed out. The soldiers who passed by weren't heroes—they were tired, their eyes shadowed with guilt or disillusionment. The banners of the Imperium hung heavy in the air, and Xari couldn't help but notice how the grandeur of their golden threads hid the frayed edges beneath. As Corin leaned in to share the latest rumors of corruption among the generals, Xari felt her chest tighten. The world her family represented seemed less like a beacon of strength and more like a gilded mask hiding something rotten underneath.

"Well then," Aurelia clasped her hands together, "that's enough talk of gloom. Shall we head to the market, maybe find Tarin? I heard a procession will be happening today, one of the Chantry members is returning from an expedition."

The trio silently agreed and made their way to the streets. It was a bustling and sunny morning, the crisp air combining lovely with the sunlight of early spring. Today was the beginning of a new week, when most common folk and house slaves ran errands around the city. Tarin, when he was not joining his friends on escapades or in Seralys' tent, was busy running the streets and alleys. He had a knack for portraying a poor, helpless child, and was overlooked by those whose secrets he sold. Because of this, he blended in with the crowds, yet his awareness of his surroundings was keen. His friends worried for him sometimes; if he got in too deep, sold secrets to the wrong person, or about the wrong person, he could find himself in a hole that he could not escape from. Tarin brushed off their concerns. "I'm flattered, really," he'd say with a crooked grin, "but I know exactly how far I can push before I cross the line." His confidence only unsettled Xari further, as she knew the dangers in Minrathous often came without warning. One wrong move, one overheard whisper, and even Tarin's sharp mind and quick reflexes might not be enough to save him. Still, she couldn't argue with his instincts—he moved through the shadows of the city like a ghost, hearing everything and being seen by almost no one. Tarin's world was one of risks and rewards, and though Xari admired his resilience, she wondered how long he could keep balancing on the edge before he fell. At the same time, she felt a hint of jealousy at his carefreeness, and even his freedom.

They approached the market, looking around for their rogue friend. Passing by Seralys' tent, empty during the day, he was not in occupancy of it. "Well, who knows where he's off to today," Corin shrugged. "He'll probably catch up to us later."

Then, the sound of trumpets filled the air. The trio, and the street dwellers, all turned toward the source of the fanfare. This must be the procession Aurelia was talking about. A knight appeared over the hill, holding the trumpet over his mouth. He lowered it before announcing, "Make way for the procession of Archon Radonis! Honor the strength and unity of the Imperium!"

The crowd began to part, creating a wide path down the cobblestone street. Behind the knight came a row of mounted soldiers, their armor gleaming in the midday sun. Each bore the sigil of the Archon—a golden laurel encircling a silver staff. Banners of crimson and gold fluttered above their heads, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the muted tones of the market.

The trio stepped back, blending into the gathering crowd. Xari's gaze swept over the procession, her admiration mingling with unease. Behind the soldiers came a grand chariot, ornately decorated with filigree and gemstones, pulled by black horses whose manes shone like silk. Atop the chariot stood a man clad in ceremonial robes, his bearing commanding yet detached, as though the people bowing and cheering were little more than a backdrop to his grandeur.

"Archon Radonis himself," Aurelia whispered, eyes wide. "I've never seen him in person before."

Xari glanced at Corin, whose expression was unreadable. Unlike Aurelia, Corin had likely seen this sort of spectacle countless times, growing up in a family of Imperium officials. Yet, Xari could sense a tension in her friend—a stiffness in his posture, as if he, too, felt the weight of something unsaid.

As the procession passed, Xari couldn't help but notice the faces in the crowd. Most looked on with awe or pride, but others...others had expressions that lingered between indifference and disdain. She spotted an older man with a hunched back muttering something under his breath before shuffling away. A woman with a child on her hip turned her back to the road, murmuring to her neighbor.

The cracks were subtle, but they were there.

As the procession wound its way through the bustling marketplace, Xari's attention was drawn to a small cluster of elven house slaves standing close together, their gazes fixed firmly on the ground. The youngest among them, a girl no older than ten or eleven, clutched an overflowing basket of fruits and vegetables. Likely sent on errands by her master, the girl was visibly struggling with the load.

As she stepped back to steady herself, she bumped into the counter of a market stall. The collision sent several apples and a melon tumbling onto the cobblestones, directly into the path of the Archon's knight. Panic flashed across the girl's face as she knelt hastily, basket still in hand, scrambling to gather the fallen produce. But the task seemed impossible; for every piece she retrieved, another slipped from the precariously balanced basket. The eldest elf in the group hissed under her breath, her tone sharp with fear. "Hurry, you nit. Get out of the way!"

Desperation drove the young elf to abandon the basket entirely. She darted into the street, frantically scooping up the scattered fruit with trembling hands. The knight, now only a few yards away, did not slow.

With a sickening crunch, his horse trampled a melon, spraying its sticky juices across the cobblestones—and onto the girl's face. The knight reined in his mount, towering over her with an air of disdain. "Elves," he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "Always in. The. WAY."

Without warning, his armored boot lashed out, striking the girl squarely in the chest. She yelped as the force sent her sprawling backward into the market stall, a tangle of limbs and torn clothing. The impact toppled a display of wares, sending a cascade of trinkets and vegetables to the ground. Xari and Aurelia gasped, and Corin watched in fear for the elf.

"Do you have a death wish, slave? Or are you simply daft?" the knight snarled, his voice booming over the now-silent market. "Your Archon Radonis demands respect, not obstacles!"

Xari's stomach churned as the crowd remained still, their faces a mixture of shock and silent submission. She balled her fists, anger simmering beneath her skin. Every fiber of her being screamed to act, but she knew any interference would only make things worse—for the girl, and for herself.

The knight dismounted his horse and unsheathed his longsword. The sound of the silver blade sliding against his golden sheath rang the air. The sun reflected off the bright silver as his free hand snatched the young elf's wrist. She whimpered, and tried to pry the knight's tight grip from her. The other elves with her screamed, giving pleas for forgiveness. "Please," one of them cried, "we're sorry, ser. She meant no harm! Please understand, she's a child and this is her first market run. She does not know any better!"

"Then perhaps," the knight scowled, "I shall make an example out of her for elves who do not understand their place!"

Xari did not realize her feet were running before it was too late to stop. She pushed herself through the crowd towards the knight. There was no plan here- only that she had to stop this. With all her force, she pushed into the knight and staggered him enough to lose his grip on the elf. She saw her chance, and the young girl scrambled to her feet, leaving her basket on the ground as she disappeared into the crowd. The other slaves quickly followed.

The knight turned to Xari, his face a mask of fury as he loomed over her. "Who do you think you are?" he bellowed, his voice reverberating through the marketplace. His eyes burned with indignation, and his sword, still in his hand, gleamed menacingly in the sunlight. The crowd held its breath, shifting uncomfortably, torn between fear and a quiet sense of injustice. It was the way of the Imperium—cruelty masked as duty, and any who defied it would pay the price.

Xari straightened her spine, fighting against the knot of fear tightening in her stomach. She met his glare with steady resolve. Her heart hammered against her chest, and for a moment, she thought it might give her away—loud, frantic, betraying her fear. "Someone who won't stand by and watch you brutalize a child," her voice shaking but resolute.

The knight sneered, his lip curling as he took a step closer, forcing her to crane her neck to maintain eye contact. "Bold words for someone so small," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. He glanced down at the discarded basket, then back to her. "Do you think you're a hero, girl? Because all I see is another insolent fool."

"I'm no hero," Xari shot back, her fists clenched at her sides. "But you're no man if you think picking on a defenseless child makes you strong."

A murmur rippled through the crowd at her words, faint but unmistakable. The knight's expression darkened, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. "Careful, girl," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You're treading on thin ice."

"And you've already fallen through," she retorted, her voice steady despite the tremor running through her body.

The knight raised his sword, but a voice cut through the tension. "Enough!" It was deep, thunderous- impossible to ignore, cutting through the air like a crack of thunder. The crowd looked toward the source; Archon Radonis, his expression hard and unyielding. He stood in his chariot, arm extended out. "Stand down, knight." The knight hesitated, clearly seething but unwilling to challenge the Archon. He lowered his sword, shooting Xari a venomous glare. "This child is of the Mercar household. You would be wise to not chop off the hand of your commander's daughter."

Xari exhaled shakily as the Archon's sharp gaze turned to her. "And you," he said, his tone cold. "you would be wise to represent your father's household with class."

Swallowing hard, Xari nodded, feeling the weight of the Archon's words pressing on her chest. She could sense the whispers spreading through the gathered crowd, the mingling of curiosity and judgment aimed her way. She knew, with a sinking certainty, that her actions today would reach her father's ears sooner rather than later—and the consequences would not be kind.

Still, as her eyes swept the marketplace, she caught sight of the young elf girl, now hidden among the crowd. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment. The girl's wide eyes were full of something Xari couldn't name—gratitude, yes, but also a silent plea for something more than the world could offer. In that brief moment, Xari knew the weight of what she had done. Despite the looming repercussions, Xari drew strength from that moment, a reminder of why she had acted. She had no illusions that her choice would make her life easier, but it was a choice she would make again in a heartbeat.