VII: Unpaid Offers, Unfinished Business

Aveline Vallen stood in Lowtown's Southern Market, her feet parted, her shoulders relaxed. The warmth of the sun shone onto her freckled face, driving down her neck and back to absolve her entire being of tension. Even here, in Kirkwall, there was beauty. The sun touches all, she thought sadly. Wesley would have said that, or the like. He always had a way with words. Now Wesley is gone, yet the sun still shines.

A small part of her felt guilt for that enjoyment, for the momentary respite from the stresses of life in the Kirkwall guard that she had thrown herself into. It had always been her way of grieving to commit all to a task worthy of completion, and protecting her new home was the worthiest cause available to her.

That and her friends. She owed so much to the Hawkes, to Leandra and her daughter. They had brought her out of the wilderness, had fought by her side to escape the Blight. They had sacrificed of themselves to bring her into the city, and Leandra had even offered her a place at their home.

Thankfully that last gift had not been needed long, for Gamlen's small house could barely fit what was left of the Hawkes and Amells without adding the last of the Vallens to the hearth. She still came to visit as often as she could, for friends as worthy as the Hawkes are a rare thing to come by. They are as a second family to me, and I will forever cherish them. Even Carver.

And now she needed their help again. There was shame in it to even ask after all they had already done. She could never repay them, yet she had to ask for more.

Perhaps it would all work out. Perhaps there would be a bounty in it, some coin down payment on her eternal debt. Not from the Captain at any rate, he's not one to let go of coin. If I have to, I will appeal to the Seneschal. The Hawkes deserve that much at least.

With that thought she pushed her way through the thinning crowd, nodding to a guardsman as she passed him.

"Ho, Sergeant!" The man called, taking her arm and stopping her. "Think you might cover the end of my shift? Linde said she'd give me a rate special if I showed up before dark."

Aveline shook her head at the man. Dark eyes and a Tevene nose poked out beneath the brim of his helmet. "Not today, Tress. I have a matter to handle."

The guardsman shrugged. "'A matter,' she says. Ta for nothin', Sarge. I'm doomed to dance in half of Kirkwall's seed by the time I get to her. Ah well, always the morrow."

"A commendable attitude," Aveline answered blithely before nodding and continuing on her way.

The market was oddly quiet as what few merchants still remaining only sporadically hawked their wares. Most were already beginning to pack up their stalls for the night as the world around faded into orange, soon to be dusk, then black. The merchants would store their goods, the beggars would turn in for the night, while the rest of Lowtown would head for the nearest tavern and drink away the black 'till the sun shone once again.

Aveline never understood their routine, these Kirkwallers. Working for their coin alone, sometimes their families, then burning it all every night on alcohol or harlots. I have my own routine, true, but I serve a higher call. I served Ferelden, and now I serve Kirkwall. For better or for worse. Someone must look out for everybody else.

It took some time, but at last she found herself at the stained doorstep of the Hanged Man. Its dangling mascot repulsed her even as she pushed open the door. She was barraged as she entered, by both the loud clamor of the lively tavern (that will only get livelier as the night wanes on) and the sour stench that seemed to always cling to the place. She couldn't understand why Hawke loved it so much. Though she did not spend so much time here before she met Varric. He is certainly vocal in his appreciation for it.

Her gaze flicked to each side of the tavern, roaming across the varied patrons who filled the dirty tables. She was sure she had arrested at least two of them at one time or another. She was also sure that she would come to know more of them in the future as she escorted them to the city jail.

Finally, she saw them. Seated near the back, as usual, though in a different table than normal. She moved towards the card playing trio of the siblings Hawke and Varric. Hawke was even more animated than usual, her loud voice (if not her words) carrying through the din towards Aveline. As Aveline approached, Hawke threw her cards down in insincere frustration.

As the Sergeant drew closer she realized that the man she had thought was Carver was in fact not – instead a different, more battered face over a battered cuirass raised his eyes to meet hers. He tossed his cards on the table and stood with an outright smile. "Sergeant!" He called in a quiet voice that cut through the noise. "Join us. I believe I owe you a drink."

Hawke, who was seated facing away from her, turned then. "Aveline!" She shouted, her face flushed. "It's always good for the Guard to show a strong face here at the Hanged Man. Show the ruffian's what for, right?"

"In uniform no less," Varric grinned slyly, showing his cards and dragging the meager pot of coppers to his side of the table.

The man, who she now realized was familiar, pulled up a chair for her from an adjoining table.

As she sat Varric continued. "You ought to be more considerate Aveline. I know at least four people are cowering under their tables right now for fear of the Guard coming for them. Bet you old Graham's even soiled his trousers."

"Good," Aveline replied smoothly. "Lawbreakers should fear the law. It means I'm doing its job."

Varric made a show of ducking his head beneath the table. "Did I say four? I meant five. Please, great guardsman, spare us your wrath!"

Hawke guffawed loudly. Aveline glanced to her. Maker, in her cups again? Concern filled her. This early? She silenced the thought. I will not judge her.

As Aveline leaned back in her chair, she noticed the hammers tied to the familiar man's hip.

"I remember you," she realized.

He nodded, shouted to Nora for another round (which was promptly filled to Aveline's surprise) and offered his hand. "Martin," he said. "When last we met, I did not have the opportunity for a proper introduction."

Varric's eyes glistened intently as he leaned forward in his seat. "I sense a story here. Come on, don't keep us in suspense."

"No indeed!" Echoed Hawke as guzzled her recently refilled mug.

Something about the way Varric leaned forward, or perhaps the greed in his eyes irked Aveline. He was a strange dwarf, one without beard who told constant tales of others whenever he could get a crowd worked up. She never had seen him outside the Hanged Man. Come to think of it, she had never seen him without Hawke. He doesn't sit right with me.

Aveline shrugged through her thoughts. "Some of the guard took issue with another fereldan seeking refuge in Kirkwall. Just the boys being rowdy. A little talking to from their Sergeant set them right."

"Might have just been a little talking to for you," Martin said, also pausing to take a deep drag from his own tankard. "But for me it was life and death. Them as well, now that I think on it."

"Oh ho!" Varric chuckled. "If that was a story, I'd title It 'The Adventures of Aveline – how she scared the shit out of some people for the three thousandth time.'"

"Oh come now, Varric," Hawke cut in, swatting his arm. "No one will believe that. Aveline's one cute, huggable little bear. Back in Ferelden she was famous far and wide for her delightful smile and curvaceous legs."

Varric made a face. "You were doing good there Hawke - 'till curvaceous. That's not the adjective I would've used. Or anyone else with eyes."

Put that uniform to work, Aveline thought, giving Varric her best Sergeant's glare. "And what word would a tavern fly like you use to describe me?"

Varric's only immediate response was his typical carefree grin, though this time he had the decency to hide it partially under the brim of his mug. He wasn't easily intimidated, Aveline gave him that.

"Chiseled. Maybe granite or marble. Certainly hard as stone. Ever considered going to Orzammer? I bet they'd just worship your strong stone toes as you passed over the blessed stone of their ancestors. They'd be like to put a statue up of you on the spot."

Hawked tittered loudly. "Now who's going too far with description?"

"'Those who cannot write, critique.'" Varric quoted smartly.

"Does that mean you cannot write?" Aveline asked, finding herself slipping into the banter despite her misgivings about the dwarf.

"She's got you there!" Hawke pounded her mug on the table.

"Traitor!" Varric gasped in mock indignation. "Siding against me for the Guard, are you? Won't anyone protect a decent Maker-fearing dwarf from abuse by the local guardswoman?"

Martin leaned back in his chair. "Nay, Varric. Looks to be you are all done in."

"Not so fast," Hawke interjected. "I change my mind. I will protect this dwarf from belittlement…" she hiccupped loudly, belched, and laughed uproariously. "Ha! Belittlement!"

Martin, Varric, and even Aveline chuckled at that. "I'll give you that one, Hawke," Varric chortled between sips of drink.

"That said," Aveline cut in as the banter seemed to lose its steam. "I didn't come here without purpose, Hawke."

Before she could explain said purpose Varric interrupted again. "Well, I knew you cared Aveline, but I wasn't sure you wanted to make it official – "

Annoyance flared through her, but she suppressed it. Andraste preserve me. "I may have some work for you, Hawke. Your brother too." She continued as if Varric hadn't spoken at all. He at least had the decency to shut up as soon as she interrupted his interruption.

Hawke stopped drinking mid gulp to set her mug down haphazardly on the table. She tried as professional a face as she could muster through flushed cheeks and glazed eyes. "By all means, Guardswoman," she managed with only the subtlest of slurs. "You have my utmost attention."

I sincerely doubt that. But this is my night off, so it's now or next week. "I've heard word from some informants of a fugitive hiding out in the wilds, near-to Sundermount. It's unwise to venture so far alone, and Captain Jeven refuses me a patrol. I'd like to hire you."

Hawke cocked her head curiously. "Captain Jeven? What happened to Ewald?"

Varric snorted. "What rock have you been under, Hawke? Ewald was fished out of the canals not even a fortnight ago. The Viscount hasn't put up a replacement yet, only a temporary guy."

"Captain Jeven." Martin supplied.

"Right, Jeven. I tell you, it's been a real shit show down at the Merchant's Guild. Us second sons had quite a pickle figuring out who's pocket to line now that…" Varric trailed off as he glanced the glare Aveline was throwing his way. "We're all in mourning. It's awful. Chantry's just packed with well-wishers."

Hawke took hold of her mug. "I met Ewald once. Good man from what I saw." She saluted with her drink before taking a swig. "And to answer your question, Varric, it wasn't a rock but a bottle. You know damn well I've been here since that shite you got us into down below Darktown. Maker have mercy."

"Shit Hawke," Varric response sounded genuinely regretful. "How many times do I gotta say I'm sorry – "

Unwilling to allow another conversation to drown out the one she needed to finish with Hawke, Aveline interrupted the budding argument. "Are you willing Hawke?"

Hawke turned fully towards Aveline again. "This isn't some kid sticker you'd have us chase, right?" She shivered visibly. "I don't think I can handle any more skulls smaller than my fist this month."

Aveline took in a breath to ask her what she meant before she caught Martin staring pointedly at her. He shook his head, as if to say, "don't ask."

So she didn't. "No. Just a no-good thief, who's managed to steal quite a bit from Darktown and the Alienage. Jumps people in alleys, that sort of thing." When she saw the greedy look in Varric's eye she added "No bounty. Only what I can persuade the Seneschal to give you. The folks this man's stolen from don't have anything else to give."

Hawke nodded at that, then abruptly stopped as if remembering something. "Wait, did you say he's hiding out near Sundermount?"

Aveline nodded, taken aback. "We'll have to search the old smuggler caves. Some run all the way down to the Wounded Coast. Why?"

Hawke grimaced. Without answering Aveline, she pushed her mug across the table. "Then that's it for me tonight. Can we head out on the morrow, Aveline?"

Aveline nodded again, head suddenly filling with second thoughts. I could take the patrol down the road to the coast, take a detour…

"You heard the lady, can't promise any coin, but if either of you wants to tag along…"

Martin stood and made a show of stretching. "I will come along, coin or no. I could use a breath of sea air. Unpolluted by Kirkwall."

Varric only grinned. "Bianca could use some trouble. She's been getting soft with all this booze, I tell you."

"Don't be too trigger-happy shorty," Hawke said soberly. "Wouldn't want to piss on the Dalish we're going to visit. Carver and I have been putting it off too long now. Got unfinished business, now for both Aveline and… an old friend."