Over the next week and a half, coins changed hands, vials were passed to cooks and manservants, and Ten purchased a new table. Round, with fine chairs to surround it. Of course, she would never rival Madame Hirondelle's parlor, but she hoped to impress the less tolerant of the neighborhood bosses into respecting her. She also, having escorted Sten back to the Alienage and her own childhood home, where he was not exactly in place, as certainly less out of it than he was at the estate, arrive at the Alienage several hours before the others were slated to.

She, with Soris and Shianni standing behind her, sat nearest the fire, waiting for her guests to arrive. She was dressed simply, in a dress sewn of far finer fabric than she was used to, but which was cut with a neckline that covered her collarbones and a full skirt as befitted a woman of her station. Of course, the fact that the Alienage was technically still under lockdown was but a hiccup to Denerim's criminal elite, and nobody said anything when a series of small boats docked at the river, and their passengers walked slowly through the icy streets to a room above a woodworker's shop.

Madame Hirondelle, of course, arrived first. She was dressed in a commoner's idea of what an Orlesian noble would wear, fitted gown, frilly collar, and, most importantly, a mask covering her face to her nose. With her, to Teneira's surprise, rather than her boys, two young women that Ten did not recognize, each similarly decked out in the popular concept of the latest fashion in Val Royeaux. She took her seat beside Ten, her mouth smiling mysteriously beneath the white mask.

Don Cangrejo arrived next, flanked by two very tall women wearing flowing sleeves. Teneira could only imagine the arsenal they had strapped to their arms. He had abandoned his crocheted hat for something much more elegant, a broadbrimmed, rounded affair with a splendid plume in it. He wore his stuffed gloves today, not a surprise, but had trimmed his mustache, which was. He kissed her hand gallantly, and took his seat on her other side. Though he, Ten, and Madame Hirondelle had been in on large parts of the plot heretofore, they clearly had all come to the independent conclusions that it should not look too much like the three of them had been plotting without the others, lest they feel they were being ganged up on.

Boss Guilder of the Market Square, arrived next. Guilder, a moniker he had given himself - his real name was Fergal Goggin, which he hated - was a portly man in his forties with a waxed mustache and goatee in the Tevinter style, wearing breeches, a waistcoat, and a fashionable three-cornered hat. He walked with the aid of a cane that almost certainly hid a blade within. The cane he required due to an unfortunate construction accident, just an accident, yes ser, nothing suspicious about it at all, back when he was a celebrated contractor to noble and bourgeois alike. The blade was to prevent such an incident from occurring again. His hands were adorned with a king's ransom worth of gaudy rings, and he was flanked by two qunari mercenaries. A man such as he, of course, could not be seen in the company of common thugs. His protection was bought and paid for.

Shortly behind him came the grizzled woman known as the Captain, but who had, at one point, been known as Crimson Griet - Ten did not know her surname, though it was almost certainly Nevarran, far too long, and spelled in a ghastly manner - was probably in her late thirties, but looking much older, thanks to long years plying the salt, as a privateer first for Orlais and later for Antiva. For reasons Ten could only guess at, she was now was welcome in neither nation, and had returned to her native Ferelden with a hold full of ill-gotten gains. Her hair, though, was magnificent, red and curly and falling to her chest in shining ringlets. Her help were two dwarven sailors whom. Ten recognized from the Paloma - she could not remember which of them was Kovald and which was Potchek - flanked her.

The last to arrive was the boss from the slums, whom Ten did not recognize. He - she - did it matter? - was a very tall human dressed in a flowing red gown, with an exaggeratedly painted face and a wig - also red - designed to mimic the hairstyle of a fashionable lady of court. They arrived alone, though Ten imagined that whatever muscle had come out of the slums was skulking somewhere nearby.

"I apologize for the time, dear," the slums boss said. The voice sounded male. Or did it? "I do so enjoy being fashionably late."

"Not an issue," said Ten, "Missus…"

"Jeannette LaRouge," the slums boss said, dropping an exaggerated curtsy before taking a seat and daintily crossing their legs. The six of them looked around the table at each other, before Don Cangrejo cleared his throat, and opened the floor.

"So tell me, Arlessa," he said, "What has brought us here?"

"I have called you here to day," said Ten, "To discuss everyone's favorite topic."

"Grand larceny."

"Extortion!"

"Grift?"

"Kickbacks!"

"Pranks?"

"Politics," Ten said.

"Boooring," groaned Jeannette from the end of the table.

"There is to be a Landsmeet, a gathering of the peerage," said Ten, "A week from now."

"Just like those skulking weasels to meet in secret," grumbled Boss Guilder, "Deciding our fates without so much as a by-your-leave." Guilder fancied himself a gentleman, though all of his riches had never managed to gain him a title. Anything that reminded him of this fact was of great offense to him.

"And what is the purpose of such a thing?" asked the Captain, who even after long years, had not managed to lose the Hinterlands accent that marked her as someone not born for the sea, "Seems to me it's been decided. The king is dead. The queen's father has seized power, the lords of the land will certify it. What is it to us who fills the throne?"

"She has a point, Arlessa," said Don Cangrejo, offering her an opening, "We have never cared. You are too young to remember the occupation, but things in this city run much the same now as they did under every viceroy and governor before."

"Some would say things were better before this land gained its independence," Madame Hirondelle added snarkily.

"It matters not to you perhaps," said Ten, and she produced from beneath her desk the documents that she had gleaned from the slave ship that very nearly took her people from her. They were passed around the table, eliciting mostly grunts, and a gasp from Jeannette.

"Know someone on that manifest?" Ten asked.

"He's going to have to pay for this," Jeannette said, the smile slipping from their face for only a moment. While most denizens of the slums had no use for Denerim's elves, they all knew very well that if the elves were gone, it was going to be impoverished humans that found themselves beneath the heel of the boot next.

"No offense," the Captain said, after examining the records. She spit the juice from the tobacco she was chewing into a tin cup she had brought for just that purpose with a 'ping'. "But I don't see why we need to risk unrest in the rest of the city because the Teyrn went after your people."

"You know very well you need us," Ten countered, "Your people may have a certain disdain for mine, but it's elfin hands that deliver your imports" - she nodded at Don Cangrejo - "from your warehouses" - the Captain - "to your shops" - Boss Guilder. Elfin hands build your houses and stock your shelves. This city was built and is maintained on elfin backs. And, even if you think you could continue on your merry way without us, if Loghain succeeds at purging the Alienage, as he most certainly will try again, how long before the good people of Denerim begin turning their glares on foreigners? On the destitute? The vitriol aimed at us will not simply go away just because we do. It will merely seek another target."

"You'll get no disagreement from me that Loghain has to go," Don Cangrejo said, "But that leaves us with a dilemma. Everyone who is anyone in this land has at least one of that dirty old puto's illegitimate spawn in their pocket, any of whom could make a claim at this little… Landsmeet, however you fucking peasants called it. And when I say everyone has a royal bastard in their pocket, I am including you yourself, Arlessa."

Madame Hirondelle turned to Ten, likely grateful for the mask that very nearly hid her surprise. Ha. Something she did not expect.

"Ioan has had to leave town," said Ten, "And too many people know who his mother is. Even the most enlightened among you would not accept a halfbreed on the throne."

"That's not who I was talking about," said Don Cangrejo. Ten concentrated on not looking surprised, "What about that man who's been chasing you around the city like a lost dog these last months?"

"Why, Gonzago, you've been spying on me!" Ten exclaimed, using his given name. She hoped her tone conveyed amused surprise rather than the actual cold bite of betrayal that she felt.

"When the Arlessa is out of the Alienage, one tends to take note," Boss Guilder said.

"You too, Fergal? Why, this is the height of bad manners," she said, her gaze fixing on Madame Hirondelle, who snapped her fan open and put it in front of her exposed lower face, "Well, Gonzago, I think you've answered your own question. Any man caught dead chasing me around like a lost dog is hardly fit for politics."

"You deserve more credit that I've given you," Boss Guilder said, stroking his beard, "We all thought you were here to get us to back the one whose strings you pull. It would be a gambit for the ages, of course, but you are less self-serving than I thought."

"That's not true," said the Captain, "It's that she doesn't trust that she can pull his strings. He's in the pocket of the Arl of Redcliffe, my people have seen them both go in and out of that estate. He's loyal to some backwater bann who would put his pet on the throne to siphon our hard-earned taxes out to the very arsecrack of the nation while we here in the heart of it fight over scraps."

"Is there anyone here who's not spying on me?" Ten demanded. Everyone at the table looked at each other guiltily.

Jeannette raised one gloved hand, "I wasn't, but that's just because Griet tells me everything."

"I don't even know who you are," Ten said in frustration, "Come on, gentlemen, ladies..." she stared at Jeannette for a moment, trying to decide if a third epithet was necessary.

"I answer to Your Eminence," Jeannette declared smugly.

"That," Ten continued, "I thought we all agreed spying on each other was crass."

"Well the last time I sent a spy you seduced him and then sent him into exile," said Madame Hirondelle, "That was certainly crass."

"You really just love sending your sons into the thick of it, don't you," the Captain commented, "You should be glad that's all she did."

"I can have more sons," said Madame Hirondelle, lifting one foot and putting it on the edge of Ten's new table. The skirt of her gown was far too tight for such a thing, and it rode up above one shapely knee.

"Well you are not going to conceive them here," said Ten, "So how about you close your legs for the moment." And get your filthy shoe off my furniture.

"I'm the only one who should close my legs," the Orlesian countered, "Especially around the sons of their betters."

What was the purpose of that? She can't possibly be angry about me and Anton. Or has she been brooding on it since he took off? Either way, this is a distraction.

"Oh, stop it, Albertine, we're on the same side," said Ten, "We are in a rare moment right now. The interests of everyone in this town have aligned. I have the queen's ear. Together, we can steer this ship in whatever direction we choose."

Don Cangrejo put one hand up to stop her before she could continue, "Clarify something for me first, mijita, when you say you have Queen Anora's ear, do you mean that… literally?"

"No!" Ten exclaimed.

"Ah. Good. Just making sure. We can never tell with you."

"Before I was interrupted by such a scurrilous accusation, I was saying that Anora - who still physically has both her ears, by the way - has been effectively ruling the nation while Cailan was off on whatever romps that idiot man thought important. The best chance for stability is for her to remain right where she is."

"She was a consort. Dowager now," said the Captain, "What claim does she have?"

"She… doesn't," said Ten, "But, and this does not leave the room…" she made brief eye contact with Madame Hirondelle, who nodded at her, "Queen Anora is with child."

There was a murmur of surprise, but the group, as a whole, remained skeptical.

"That's certainly convenient of her," said Don Cangrejo. She could see the wheels turning in his head, "How do you know?"

"I've seen her," Ten said. She paused, thinking on how to say such a thing delicately. "...all of her."

"Well you'll have to paint us a picture, Arlessa," Boss Guilder quipped.

"Don't be a creep, Fergal," Ten scolded, "Suffice it to say, with Loghain out of the way, we are faced with two choices - she is regent for the next twenty years or so and then likely a quite overbearing queen mother. Or, we find another regent, convince her it's a good idea, and hope for the best."

"Sounds like a lot of work," Boss Guilder grunted, "It'd probably one of those backwater assholes who think the sun rises and sets on their own little hill of cow manure."

"I hate to say it, but he's right," the Captain agreed, "She was raised in the city. She knows where the heart of the nation is. I hear the Arl of Amaranthine is no more - thanks for that, Teneira - so the only nobles high-ranking enough for the job are the Teyrn of Highever and the Arl of Redcliffe, and both of them can fuck right off as far as I'm concerned."

"At the end of the day," Jeannette offered, "She's one generation removed from being just another common thug like us. If Teneira's in her good graces for the moment, I trust we all will be. Right, Arlessa?"

"When have I ever been stingy with my good fortune?" Ten asked, smiling magnanimously.

"More importantly, you keep your ill fortune tight to your breast," Madame Hirondelle acknowledged, "Which is more than I can say for some of you."

"Speaking of Teneira's ill fortune, there's another dragon in the room," the Captain said, not entirely enjoying the adulation her counterpart was getting, "That you yourself, Arlessa, are now a member of the very order that Loghain has denounced. I could make a few sovereign myself, were I to turn you in."

"Yes," Don Cangrejo agreed, "Not that I would be as vulgar as my esteemed colleague as to suggest turning you in, but how do we know that this juegito you're playing right now isn't just to save yourself from being tried for treason? And here you are, roping us into protecting you, at the risk of our own people?"

"If this little game was just about me keeping my head, why would I have returned?" Teneira countered, "I could have jumped the border at any time. I could be sipping wine in Nevarra right now with a couple of rent boys, which believe you me I would much prefer to be doing. But no, I'm sitting here with you sorry lot because the threat all of us are facing is very real, and it is, somehow, on me to save us all from it."

"You mean the darkspawn?" Boss Guilder asked skeptically, "I thought it wasn't a true blight."

"Did you not see the refugees camped outside these very walls?" Teneira asked incredulously.

"There are always refugees," Don Cangrejo said, "Famine, wildfires, blood feuds, rampaging demons… how could one even tell the difference?"

"Do any of you have people in Lothering?" she asked, "What about Arnthorn? Vanderk Hollow?"

"My brother lives in Lothering," the Captain offered.

"And how long has it been since you've heard from him?" asked Ten.

The Captain was silent.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Ten said, "But either your brother has found his way elsewhere, or the worst has happened. You haven't heard from him because the village of Lothering was wiped entirely off the map. By a whole passel of these."

She reached down by her foot, found what she was looking for, rose. She stood on her chair, which gave her enough height to dump the contents of an enormous bloody sack on to the heads rolled out before the neighborhood bosses. "There are tens of thousands more where I got them."

"Andraste's left tit!" Boss Guilder cursed, jumping up from the table as several rolled towards him.

Madame Hirondelle snapped her fan open and waved it in front of her face as though the silk would protect her from the smell. Jeannette LaRouge laughed out loud - in surprise - and clapped.

"Fine," Boss Guilder said, his face a little green, "So Loghain has to go. How exactly do you propose we do that, without having whatever is said about him splashing back on Anora?"

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that," Ten said, "I will deal with Loghain and have Anora come out of it smelling like a rose. The only thing I need from you is to suggest that your people, perhaps, might position themselves outside the estates of the various peers of the realm on the appointed day, and make their opinion known."

"Ooh, can we have a riot? I do love a riot," Jeannette giggled, rubbing their hands together with glee.

"You just thrive on chaos, don't you," Cangrejo observed, shaking his head.

"Oh, you didn't like my birthday gift?" they said, pouting.

"Do I want to know?" asked Ten.

"One of their people released a thousand live crabs in his privy," Madame Hirondelle said.

"Next time, make sure your people tip their bartenders," Jeannette declared.

"So we're all agreed? Same page?" Ten said, drawing attention away from the crab stunt and towards her own.

"Down with the Teyrn, I suppose," Boss Guilder.

"And long live the Queen," the Captain begrudgingly acknowledged, but her hands had already set to wringing, no doubt worried over the fate of her brother, "But can we… dispose of the heads? Great for dramatic effect, I'll have to remember that one, but… ew."

"I can take those," Jeannette offered.

"And use them for what?" Don Cangrejo asked skeptically.

"Why the next time a wealthy importer of dubious reputation throws himself a birthday party and doesn't tip his bartenders, of course," Jeannette said again.

"Excellent!" said Ten, clapping her hands, "Now, I have reserved several casks of moonshine for just the occasion. Jeannette, if you really want the heads, you may have them, and then we can all get so drunk you don't remember having seen them."