They're late. The thought went through his head like one of the fireball's his father favored. Of course they didn't exactly give me much of a description beyond 'two Dwarves, and agents of the Inquisition.'
His eyes scanned the bar looking and he could identify at least seven Dwarves keeping to the edges at various points. Two of them over by the bar itself kept drawing his eye...but he had to be sly. If anyone found out he was still alive it would end badly for him, he couldn't make a move until he was sure. Though he was growing more sure by the second, there was something familiar about those two...
Before he could make his move the bar door banged open and on its heels came several robed figures that fanned out. Most of the other patrons in the bar had the good sense to back up against the wall, and they took the opportunity to use it to isolate those who they obviously sought.
Oliver felt a chill as he recognized their aggressive angular clothing, their scimitars they unsheathed.
At least there don't seem to be mages.
He debated on staying still and staying out of it, or letting the Venatori have their way with the people who were obviously in some way responsible for the death of Corypheus.
"Varric Tethras, you are a long way from home." The leader of the assassins sneered.
"Well you know, the Viscount of Kirkwall sometimes tires of politics and just enjoys a nice drink in a seedy out of the way tavern." The Dwarf grumbled.
"Don't hide behind your title here, Dwarf," The Venatori snapped. "It won't do you any good."
The Dwarf sighed exaggeratedly. "I suppose it won't."
The Venatori let out a vicious war yell.
He was cut down mid stride with a bolt.
His gaze snapped to see Varric holding a crossbow in his hand, one like he had never seen before, sprouting four limbs. Something else in his memory fired.
The other archer let go her arrow at point blank range and her hair whipped around after the shot as she regarded the bearded Dwarf. "Not looking good old friend. You just had to open your mouth."
Varric spluttered. "They had already made us." He handed her a drink. "Behind you."
The diminutive woman put all of her strength behind the throw and slammed the heavy cast iron goblet into her opponent's face knocking him into the bar.
Typical Venatori, they don't learn.
Yet it seemed like they did as the next assassin decided to try flanking them. The bad news, for him, is that it brought him right within arm reach.
It was then that he decided to get to work, his arms flexing as he tapped the assassin on the shoulder.
The man turned around, his expression surprised even through the face mask he wore. His bearing took a second to register the shock that someone would dare approach him...and that he too was wearing a hood and a mask concealing his identity.
Should've checked your corners kid.
His arm shot out like a Qunari cannon and knocked the kid aside with ease, his weapon flying from his hand.
He stooped down to pick up the blade and several of his compatriots had noted the scuffle which had broken out in the corner.
The hit team proved their unprofessionalism as they turned to deal with him, enraged, their real targets forgotten about.
He ducked under the first strike and brought his sword across his opponent's chest, before stabbing it through his stomach.
The second guy took a moment to actually reverse his grip blocking his strike but he was still a hand quicker and opened his throat.
The rest of the Venatori abandoned their intentions and amassed to attack him. Seven of them. No matter his skill as they rushed he had no way of resisting.
His options were few, but fortunately he cased the joint even before entering.
His body whipped around, his arm already in motion. The Scimitar flew through the air with unnerving accuracy...right into the rope holding a chandelier right above him.
Just then the Venatori decided to pile on and tackle him. But the chandelier crashed down a second later, their flesh serving to protect him.
He slammed a elbow into their leader as they got off. The two Dwarves pulling the rest of their attackers off of him before ensuring they are dead.
"Varric Tethras," the Dwarf said thrusting a meaty paw into his face, "and you must be 'Rook'. Of course I know that is just an alias."
He unfurled his mask and dropped his hood, taking a deep breath of fresh air.
"Please, call me Oliver. And I know who you are...who both of you are. I hate it took me so long to recognize the two great heroes of the Inquisition, Scout Lace Harding and Varric Tethras."
His voice held an edge to it. He had heard of the Inquisition. Seen their picture in the broadsheets back home. His father even claimed to admire their work for dealing with the Venatori and their mad god for the Imperium. Yet they also weren't popular, they were agents of the Southern Chantry with their False Divine. They were almost as natural enemies as the Qunari and several of his friends told them bad rumors. Rumors that they would bring nothing but trouble and meddle in the Imperium's policies. Forcing their beliefs upon them. And he had no idea who was right but experience begged him to be cautious.
"Well look at that," Lace Harding said with a light note to her voice, "we're famous Varric."
The older Dwarf replied in kind. "Nice to meet you Oliver."
"So...what does the agents of the Inquisition want with the son of a dead Tevinter noble?"
"Well, we're in Minrathous to stop a...ritual...of sorts. A dangerous ritual which could cost thousands of lives. We're trying to form an organization to stop it, looking for people we need to lead that organization."
And you chose me? "Venatori?"
"Not exactly." The Dwarf said evasively.
"Alright...well it looks like there is no time to waste." He pushed himself up, fearing that their fight had already drawn attention.
"Not so fast," Varric pushed him back down, for an older Dwarf he still showed some strength, "I said we are here to see if you should lead this organization we're working on. Consider this a job interview."
"Dealing with those cultists not enough of an indication of my skills? And you clearly know who I am."
"We've heard rumors," Varric elaborated. "But that is not the same thing. And besides...we should still have plenty of time to conduct our business and stop the ritual.."
"Well..."Oliver glared at the two of them, Harding's hand was on her bow, an arrow nocked indicating she wasn't going to take no for an answer.
"We've already been to at least twelve different candidates," Varric said following his gaze.
Oliver nodded, "Well, I suppose I should begin at the beginning, shouldn't I?"
"That might be best." Lace said softly, eyeing him up.
He sighed, Well this day hasn't gone how I expected so why not?
Oliver
The carriage rocked arrhythmically as it rolled along the High Street in Minrathous. Somehow it seemed like the travels through the back country in the army were somehow more stable then the supposedly well maintained streets of the Tevinter capital city.
He looked out the window as they passed a long line of darkened estates. His face was as expressionless as his mood and yet he welcomed the darkness. While Minrathous may have never slept this part of the city was home to wealthy magisters and merchants, away from the pure gaudiness of some of the magically infused lighting of the poorer corners.
The Dracolisk pulling the carriage gave a small snort as it continued to canter forward. Oliver considered the creature. Smart enough to not require a driver leaving him to his thoughts, the creature was enchanted to be the perfect herd animal for its particular job.
The thoughts slowly were awakening his concentration, he felt a small stir of interest as it began a slow and lazy turn to the right. He recognized the pathway of his family's home which he had left. The creature settled into a spot along a fence line.
Five years, as much as I think I have changed, this place barely has.
He got out in a couple of steps and walked over to the front of the carriage.
He glowered up at the draconic animal, its reptilian eyes regarded him with cool contempt. At least so I think.
A brazen thought passed through his mind, to unhitch the Dracolisk from its bindings and ride it into the night. Back to his unit to fight the savage Qunari. Part of him was happy to be home, but he wasn't sure he wanted to do what he set out to do when getting his orders dismissing him from the Tevinter Scouting Regiment. Nor did he want to do what his family and their colleagues want, the last thing he wanted was to take his rightful place in the Magisterium.
He sucked in a cool breath from his surroundings, squaring his shoulders, letting steel set into his spine. No, my path is already decided. I already made my decision. Both of them.
With that he gave the lizard a friendly nod, it snorted back at him, before he moved off into the warm embrace of his home.
In the darkness a shadow moved, the sharp points of his ears jutting out in the darkness silhouetted against the little light leaking out of the room.
His hand twitched for the non existent weapon at his side even though his mind acknowledged there was no way this could be a threat.
"Oliver?"
He blinked as the voice sounded familiar.
"Daggone?" He asked.
"Sir."
"Sir?"
He saw the shadow shift its weight around on one foot almost looking as though he became amused.
"After I was discharged from the military I searched for occupation. Your family took me on as a guard in the wake of your father's death."
"Good I'm glad...after the incident I tried to speak up on your behalf...but the Magistrate didn't want to hear it."
"Well, I'm just an Elf sir. You are the son of a Magister. It just reminded me of the fact."
"You are much more then that."
"Are you? And stop calling me sir, its Oliver."
"Please sir, you are now going to be the master of the house. And soon a Magister. Its your right."
Why is he acting like this? After all we have been through together?
"Well, good luck to you. And no matter what I am glad to see you."
"I am sure, sir."
As he stepped into the Foyer and put his bag on the table he noticed two things. One no majordomo was here to announce his arrival and two it was darkened. Yet he could hear idle chatter and see light shining from the next room.
He took a step and then as if by magic a shadow passed over the archway, surprise colored on her face.
"Oliver?" The woman spoke with the same sing song Antivan accent that he had known since childhood.
"Mother." For some reason he heard, and felt, the small sob escape his wind pipe.
"Oh Oliver."
She approached him in three quick strides and his arms opened up to her before she enfolded him in her own. He felt the tears begin to leak freely and despite his best efforts he decided to let them.
"I am sorry I wasn't here for the funeral. A runner got lost, the Qunari have been raiding the supply lines of late and we think he is missing presumed dead." He said with his head buried in her dark hair.
"I know, at least you made it in time for the wake." She choked out.
"How did it happen?" He managed to separate himself and look at her at arms length. "The message I received wasn't clear."
"A freak accident. He was examining one of our shipyards at the Docks when a construction stonework collapsed on him."
I bet...
The thought took them into the room with the rest of his family waiting, or their servants, and retainers. He made note that few of the Magisterium were present for the death of a colleague. He had heard rumors and his mail from home sometimes indicated a falling posture within that august body but his suspicions only grew and he had to keep his fists from balling up.
"Ollie?"
The voice snapped him out of it. His sister favored the same features as their Antivan mother. An irony that she had followed his family into achieving magic while he had not.
Yet in his time away she had grown into a mature woman. The last time he saw her she was all of 14. Now nineteen and clearly had come into her own, though her shoulders were slumped in her grief.
"Tessia." He murmured at her.
"Oh Oliver." She leapt into his arms. "I am so glad you made it home. I was so worried the Qunari got you."
"Well, I am here now." He breathed luxuriating for a moment in being home.
The rest of his family closed in.
"Come on," Mara said, "lets get you settled," his mother slapped him on the back.
For a moment he felt the weight of the Imperium dissolve from his shoulders.