Oliver
His time in the Magisterium had been brief, a mere couple of months had passed. He often found it difficult to get away and didn't think it was a good idea to draw attention to his absence from his duties to go chasing after random leads. He had to be careful lest he be discovered before he could do any good. Thus he only had time to run a few patrols since joining and he also had the time to continue building his main base of operations.
Yet his time with the Magisterium did have its benefits. Namely a staff of his own to help him collect information he needed. Thus his position served as a conduit for reports from law enforcement to himself. Reports on criminal activity, including his own. Rumors on information that the Templars or City Guard felt they couldn't act on or were ordered to ignore it by the rest of the government as being unactionable.
He knew it was risk, the problem with rumor and innuendo, but he had to start somewhere.
Which brought him here.
He hid in a dark alcove on the top of a stairwell leading down to street level. His target was across the street from where he squatted. A bank.
His files he had assembled told him that one of the bankers here was conducting affairs for the Venatori in his own private books, funneling them money and resources for some purpose or another. He had been keeping late hours after the bank officially closed and strange men had been seen loitering around.
His initial aim was to just check things out and see. He had his personal doubts that a random banker would simply join up with the Venatori given the circumstances in the Imperium and yet they were getting their money somehow.
As he watched any of those doubts were wiped from his mind. A group of men stalked outside the bank door, two more stood on each side of it. He had seen their dress before, both personally and in broadsheets.
Their faces were masked but their clothing and army was built with sharp jagged edges.
Those of the Venatori.
Still going through the front door would seem to be a fool's errand for two tactical reasons.
First doing so would expose him to risk, the street itself was open to many people could see his struggle against a superior force, even against the four guards, it could take a second. Then there was nothing to say that his fight against them would alert the rest of the people in the bank itself to his presence.
And he would rather not kill anyone if he had to.
Yes, they were here likely to defend the banker, dressed as Venatori. But he knew that they hired mercenaries and put mindless thugs in their livery.
He would defend himself, he had defended himself in the past, but his true enemies were those Mages and full on Magisters who were the ring leaders, those who organized the corruption of his nation.
And even with them I seek to bring them to justice.
That still left him the task of getting there without tipping the guards off. His eyes scanned the perimeter looking for ways in.
After a moment he made his decision, he gently made his way down the stairs and went across the street.
As he suspected the servants' entrance was left unguarded at this particular moment, dark, but locked as well.
It took him all of a few seconds to unlock the door with his multi tool as he ducked in through the open door.
Darkness was his friend given the circumstances but the path upwards to the second floor office was convoluted, snaking its way through the exterior of the building as if the manufacturers didn't want to be bothered by the staff.
It gave him free range though and since he had studied the blue prints he knew exactly where he would end up.
Getting to where he needed to be he peaked through the open window. Guards. A smattering of them blocking his way between him and the door where he suspected his target was.
A suspicion which is growing more and more confirmed with each passing minute.
He brought himself some time as he went around the corner opening the door. His eyes swept the room and noticed a fancy tableau depicting ancient dragons doing battle in the skies of Tevinter. The only light provided by a magically infused orb.
Two of the lead guards reached for their swords in their sheaths.
But then they chuckled. "You lost buddy?"
"The recruiting office is just down the street if you wanna join up."
He paused for a second, realizing his suit did make him look vaguely like a Venatori cultist. It also seemed to confirm what they were doing here and what side of the line they fell on. Still, he had to give them a chance.
"I'm only here for the banker. He is a threat to many people. He is directing funds to help fill the Venatori's coffers. He is not a good man and he has information I need to stop the Venatori and bring them down."
The group of guards sobered.
Their leader approached him, his arm hanging over his sheath at his side. "I don't know if you've noticed, but there are more of us then you. And we are here because we are Venaori. Now I don't know who you think you are but-"
In a blur he ripped an arrow out of his quiver it and plunged it into his chest cavity. The guard toppled over giving him a brief second.
His bow already was twanging even as the rest of them reacted stunned to the sudden assault. Two arrows cut down one of the guards and a crossbowman.
By that time the Venatori had gotten their feet back underneath him, the next man in line drew his sword and charged. Oliver cut him down with a shot to the throat. The initial man he felled twitched and an arrow came up to silence him permanently.
The second crossbowman returned fire finally and he had to spin aside, using the artistic banister for cover. Hiding in the shadows.
"He has to run out of arrows eventually. Get him!"
How right you are. Oliver grimaced as a mental count already confirmed he was down to two of them.
Yet they didn't seem to account for the blades that he could bring to the fight.
A shadow moved against the banister, rippling the fabric, he gave it a good two count.
Then pounced forward. His blade whipped out of his sheath and he plunged it through, the banister ripped with an unholy tearing noise as he pushed the sword up through cloth and flesh, the guard screaming in surprise.
His strength not spent he continued his maneuver, the blade tearing free as he adjusted it horizontally, drawing a complete hole in the material. A crossbow bolt just missing him as he did so.
His next arrow sliced through the glow orb casting the room in darkness. But he knew he was able to move fine in darkness. He traded his bow for his sword and dagger as he moved through the night as easily as during the day, him memorizing the layout of the room. Another guard loomed large, he cut him down.
The final crossbowman tried again and only succeeded in hitting his own ally in the back killing him.
It was why he preferred bows to crossbows, especially if you didn't know what you were doing it could be cumbersome to reload, to fire again.
The man before him was clearly panicked. Somehow passed over for military service he hadn't seen genuine combat, didn't know the fear or anger that could result.
Oliver did.
As his fingers fumbled with the latch he calmly approached, ripped his sword around knocking the weapon from his fingers.
"Please don't!"
He snarled as he plunged the dagger right through his heart, then used the momentum to slam him through the weakened door to the main office, knocking it to splinters.
Another guard, brought up a hand held crossbow.
But he was half a second faster, his last arrow knocking him against the wall.
He twisted around and his mind focused on his target. He recognized the banker from his broadsheet and squared his shoulders.
Then someone knocked into his side.
He spun around grappling around with the man on the floor for a second, punching him twice then chopping him to separate.
The second attempt brought the two of them face to face. Oliver recognized behind the man's eyes and grizzled beard the look of a veteran.
One who didn't give him any time to ponder what he would do about the fact as he came forward, arms wide to grapple with him. For half a second he succeeded in grasping him around the shoulders and throat.
But Oliver broke the lock with his own strike, then twisted around to chop him in the throat.
His opponent choked and sputtered, his head lolled around, but his hands snapped up instinctually to protect his vital areas as he regained his footing.
What he did not anticipate was that Oliver knew it so his foot shot out and kicked him into a table.
Turning it into splinters as the man's weight crashed through it.
Still he surprised Oliver yet again by scrambling up almost instantly, absorbing the shock and going through it.
"You have the look of a veteran." The man spat a glob of blood at him.
"So do you." Oliver hissed.
This time the guard came at him more cautiously, protecting his vitals as he lumbered forward like a large man. Oliver realized while he had the musculature advantage his opponent was still larger and could more easily take a hit.
Plus his own endurance was starting to fail him. Even with him emerging mostly unscathed to this point he still had to fight through a massive number of guards badly outnumbered.
Further any of his scout advantages had now left him. No shadows to hide in, his opponent knew exactly where he was.
He adopted his own defensive posture as the man took wide swings at his perimeter. His arms twisted up and battered each one of them aside. His knee went out going for his vitals but his rose up to meet his.
He found himself knocked against the wall and swung wildly again. This managed to buy him just enough time to spin out of the way and the leader of the guard detail crashed into the wall, hard enough that dust rained down from the ceiling.
But it succeeded in stunning him.
Giving him enough time to pluck his arrow up off the ground and slam it through through his eye. The man toppled back and he once more replaced the arrow in his quiver.
In the fight he realized that his hood had been knocked off revealing his short kempt hair and his one day's beard growth to the world. It made him more angry then anything else and with a snarl he turned around.
Fortunately the banker looked too panicked to move or even identify him.
"Come here!" He grabbed him by the collar and dragged him off the main desk against one side of the wall.
"Please, I'm just a banker! I lend out money to-"
"To the Venatori who saw fit to give you protection in case someone like me should turn up to pay you a visit."
"These men were just guards! Shadow Dragon terrorist and the Silver Rook is about, these are danger- you're him!"
Oliver grimaced but smacked him across the mouth. "You have been funding the Venatori! You must have ledgers! Names! Tell me!"
The banker got the nerve up to chuckle at him, "You think I would be stupid enough to admit working for an organization that has been officially banned by the Tevinter government and put that information in a book?"
You were stupid enough to let goons dressed in Venatori leathers into your office. "I think you are stupid enough to argue with the man who just killed your entire guard force."
For emphasis he broke the man's arm with a sickening snap.
He howled, even through his words he finally looked around, a small alcove on the wall that was covered by glass.
With his thick gloves he snapped it open with little effort and found a small leather bound book within. He slammed opened it and perused.
Names ledgers. The man truly was stupid enough, while many of the names were obviously in code there were official names in here to. He had mixed his legitimate business with his illegitimate one.
Most of the coded names looked like they were being funneled towards project in the docks.
His eyes widened, another pattern emerged. Magister Borontius also had accounts of money going towards the docks.
He blinked, hardly believing it, though somehow it sounded right. He still had to consider the problem. Wait, what if? There could be a million explanations...but if there is a connection I-
The banker cried out behind him and soon he felt a body twisting around him madly. A small pain pierced his side as he felt metal slide behind his rib cage.
Oliver you fool.
Yet the banker was no combatant, just a desperate man. While Oliver had experience he also was a combatant, he knew how to funnel his berserker rage as he threw the man off him with little effort.
His arrow came out before the banker could respond and he fired at point blank range. The arrow caught him center mass.
The banker sighed as his body went limp around the missle pinning him to the table.
And yet he had little time to consider his predicament, to staunch the bleeding as as a rush of feet broke out on the hallway beyond.
"Minrathous City Guard! You are surrounded! Don't move!"
Oliver growled. I'm not going to fight the city guard if I don't have to.
Yet they had given the game away too early. He scooped up the ledger and ran out the open window, leaping onto the ground below, holding his wound the entire time.
The idiots didn't even bother to establish a cordon as he fled into the night, where he was safe.