Warden Nostariel,
I hope this letter finds you well. You will no doubt remember the boy Feynriel, whom you assisted in rescuing and escorting to the Dalish. I was the Templar assigned to bring the boy in. I do not seek to undo the work you have done in that regard, however, but something else entirely. Another matter involving the mages has arisen beyond the walls of the city, a situation that I fear could turn violent if it is not resolved soon. I do not believe the Order capable of ending this without bloodshed, and thus I turn to you.
Please, meet me outside of the eastern city gates at your earliest convenience, and I will lead you to them. I would recommend bringing others, but only those you trust. This is a matter most delicate.
Regards,
Ser Thrask.
Nostariel refolded the letter carefully, placing it into a pocket in her robes and sighing softly. A matter most delicate, was it? She wasn't sure she was properly euqipped for such things. She would better describe herself as a blunt instrument, to be directed to batter away at situations until something gave, but then that wasn't quite right either. Whatever she was, she needed help to do what this templar was asking her, and there was no mistaking that she would do it. That left the matter of who to go to for help. She knew several people with appropriate... skills, but not all of them were discreet.
Her first choice would have been Lucien, since he was most obviously capable of great discretion, but much to her dismay, he was nowhere to be found. She doubted very much that either Ithilian or Amalia would have any reaosn to assist her, and if Sophia was half as committed to the Chantry as she indicated, this was the kind of business it would be best if she didn't discover at all. Never mind that Nostariel would not feel comfortable asking the Viscount's daughter for a favor. Aurora was equally problematic, but for the opposite reasons. The idea of her mage friend working magic anywhere in the vicinity of templars unsettled her, and she shook her head. She wouldn't ask that of anyone.
Which was perhaps how she found herself outside a Lowtown shop she'd never been to before, glancing apprehensively at the sign swinging sideways above the door. It seemed like the right place, though she wasn't entirely confident that she should be here, asking this of him, of all people. He made her... vaguely uncomfortable, but this she was inclined to blame herself for. More than that, she had taken him to be some kind of mercenary, and there was to be no coin in this, of that she was certain. Still, what other option did she have? It was with a mild grimace and no small amount of trepidation that she pushed open the door, startling slightly at the unexpected sound of a bell tinkling. Reminding herself that this was no enemy fortress, she soothed her nerves and moved over the threshold.
It struck her that she wasn't really sure what to say, but she decided that she'd make it up as she went along. "...Excuse me? Ashton? Are you here?"
Ashton, ever the vigilant shopkeep he was, was sitting on top of his counter-- his usual seat-- sewing of all things. Deft fingers criss-crossed a cross-stitch, stitching together two pieces of fresh leather. At the sound of the bell ringing, he casually recited a memorized phrase, "Welcome to the Hunted Stag! You can't track a lower price than me!" not even taking his eyes off of the stitching at hand. When a familiar feminine voice responded, his eyes were torn from the work at hand and to the owner. Just as he thought, it was Nostariel. He opened his mouth to greet her, but somehow he managed to forget to stop stitching before talking, and a needle found it's way into his thumb.
He jerked as if a volt of electricity shot through his body at the pain, but managed to keep his composure. A hard twitch and a quiver of his smile was the only thing he was going to let Nostariel see. Inside however, was another story. Within the confines of his mind, a flurry of expletives, both common and colorful were being yelled. Had he been alone in the shop, he couldn't promise that the leather, needle, thread, and all wouldn't be flying towards the opposite corner of the shop in a fit of rage. As it stood, Ashton just smiled at Nostariel awkwardly and silently as the pain began to subside. Once he was sure he could speak without cussing, he finally did so, though there was an edge to his voice.
"Well. If it isn't pretty little Nostariel. What can I do for you milady? Can I interest you in any of my fine wares? Though, I doubt that's what you're after," Ashton admitted with a wink. She didn't seem like the type to want to wear his crude fabrications of leather, nor did she seem like the kind who bought venison from a run-down shop such as his. Hm. At this Ashton tilted his head, "If that's the case, what brings you to my humble little shop?" He asked, finally giving her time to answer.
Nostariel wasn't exactly sure why he was looking at her like that, face vaguely strained in its effort to maintain a smile. His hand twtiched, though, which naturally drew her attention, and she noted with something approaching amusement the small bead of blood welling from his thumb. "You can take a blade to the side or an arrow to the shoulder, but that still smarts, doesn't it?" she asked quietly, offering a half-smile and waving a hand nonchalantly. The faintest trickle of healing magic enveloped the tiny wound, easing the pain and closing up the small puncture. She hadn't missed his questions, though, and internally breathed a sigh of relief.
It was nice that he was so direct, else she'd have doubtless made a fool of herself trying to wade through small talk. Once upon a time, she'd thought nothing of idle conversations, and in fact was well-practiced at them, at least with one person in particular, but her life had sealed her lips together, in a sense, muting her voice and stilling her tongue. Now, when she spoke at all, it was of things either useful or otherwise important, as she was sure most of the people she knew could attest. She wasn't always... clear about it, nor transparent in her demeanor, but she certainly couldn't manage much in the way of pleasantry anymore.
Which was why, though she sensed she should glance around the shop and offer some sort of comment on the merchandise within, she didn't. "Er... actually, no. Sorry. I came to ask for your help, really. I- well, perhaps it's best if you just read this." Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew the folded leteer on its heavy vellum and handed it over, allowing Ashton a moment to peruse its contents before she explained further. "There are... precious few people I can turn to about this, and unfortunately, about half of them are presently... unavailable. I was hoping I might be able to impose? I can't offer much in the way of coin, but I do bring in a stipend for my posting here. Next week's is yours, if you would like it."
Ashton sat the leather to the side and crossed his legs as he listened to what little Nostariel had to say. Though, it was scant little, just a favor to read a letter. He accepted it and turned his nose down as he read it, nodding along with the contents. The contents that sounded extremely interesting and in a way-- fun. "Hm. Mages? There seems to be a lot of issues involving mages recently. No offense of course. You're among my top favorite mages," one of which was of course Sparrow. And perhaps Rilien. Did Rilien count as a mage? He was a mage once. Hm. Perhaps a question for the white haired elf himself. Ashton also noted the recent surge of mage activity, remembering his own experiences with Sparrow and Rilien, along with the past event alluded to in the letter.
He craned his neck to glance at the unfinished leather good and then back to the paper. Ah. Decisions, decisions. He could either suffer and toil in his shop. Or agree to help the little dove in front of him and do the world a little bit of good. To be fair, it wasn't a difficult decision. He handed the little back to Nostariel with a little flourish, handing it to her in his upraised palm, and then hopped of the counter. "Give me a minute and let me get my things. The fellow who commissioned the jacket can wait a little bit longer, don't you say?" Ashton asked as he made his way around the counter to grab his bow and quiver. As he did, he continued to speak, "As for the payment, don't worry your pretty little head over it. I won't take money from you," he said, peaking his head from over the counter, "The only payment I require is a smile," he finished, standing with his bow and quiver in hand.
Nostariel found that, as she had come to expect with Ashton in their very breif acquaintance, her conversational input was only minimally necessary. Considering her own reticence, this worked out quite well for her, and she simply nodded along, considerably relieved that he was agreeing to help, and at no expense, no less. It was still odd to her when she encountered generous people; she certainly hadn't grown up around anyone who had much means to be charitable, and the Wardens couldn't spare much of anything but their service to their cause. In a way, that was probably the ultimate form of self-sacrifice, but on the other hand it left very little in terms of time and resources for just... helping with the more-or-less mundane intricacies of everyday life. If she'd had regular duties in the Deep Roads, she might have been unable to assist, but all they'd told her was that she was to do assignments if they came in.
So far, none had, leading her to the belief that they really were just retiring her.
Ashton's words dragged her back to the present. "As much as I would like it to be just us two on this mission together, in case things go... South, perhaps we should see if a couple of my associates would like to lend their help for this worthy cause?" He'd also want to see if Rilien would still classify himself as a mage. Sparrow would hop in without hesitation, he knew. They did share the same sense of adventure, and there was no way she could say no to a pretty face like Nostariel's. Rilien... Well, they could drag Rilien along. He raised his eyebrow as he awaited her answer.
She wasn't surprised that he had people one would call 'associates.' She wondered if that was what they were now, come to think of it. She doubted very much that Ithilian or Amalia were her associates in this sense, but it seemed plausible to think that Aurora might be, and Sophia in a sense. Lucien was almost a friend, and that probably counted. The thought that she might have here one more such person was not at all unpleasant, and she found herself curious as to just what kind of people he'd give that label to. The suggestion was practical besides, and she nodded sagely. "That.. seems a good idea. If you want to lead us to them, I will follow." She didn't indicate the way out the door as a signal to go, largely because he obviously knew where it was and also because she had no wish to seem impatient or force departure before he was prepared.
"The let us be off my fair maiden," he grinned as he produced a keyring from his pocket. He led the way out of the shop, spinning the keyring on his finger before stopping and locking the door. He pocketed the keys again and began to walk off to where Rilien and Sparrow's hovel was. It was so convienent that they lived in the same place, he didn't have to spend the afternoon hunting them down separately. Though, he did hope both of them were home. And free.
"If you don't mind me asking... Who is this Feynriel kid the letter spoke of? Ashton asked trying to make small talk.
It was not lost on her that they were descending into Darktown, a place that she seldom had cause to visit, except when she was feeling cheerful enough to endure concentrated doses of sorrow without succumbing to it, which was incredibly infrequently. Still, she'd made it known that she could be found in the Tavern if anyone was in urgent need of healing. It was the best she could do without making herself even more miserable and bitter than she already was. It wasn't enough, but then it wouldn't have been no matter how much she was able to give. The problems were just that oppressive down here. In a way, reminding her of something she'd actually more or less succeeded at was the kindest thing Ashton could have done, thought she doubted he knew that.
"Feynriel's a friend, I suppose you could say." She'd been to visit him nearly weekly since his recovery, and though he was distinctly uncomfortable still among his mother's people, she sensed that her visits helped somewhat, and she was certainly convinced it was better than the Circle. "A boy who discovered his magic in the wrong city. He's with family now." She couldn't give away anything more explicit than that; though she trusted that Ashton was no Templar in disguise, it was not her secret to tell.
Some time after their entrance into Darktown, she found that Ashton had led them to a hovel, notable for the fact that it appeared to be constructed of mostly-sturdy material. It was a wonder that nobody had stolen the non-rotting pieces of wood from the facade yet, and she suspected that if the acquaintances Ashton was referring to were as skilled as he was, that might have something to do with it. To Nostariel's surprise, the door opened as they drew within ten feet of it, opening to reveal a man she dimly recognized. The memory was fuzzy (for the usual reasons, unfortunately), but she was quite certain it was associated with music that she'd found quite sublime. Since she didn't often go other places where music was to be found, she could only assume he'd played at the Hanged Man at some stage. She hadn't formed a memory of the odd coloration or sunburst brand, though, and her eyes widened near-comically. A Tranquil? Was it perhaps the case that Ashton had Chantry loyalty after all?
"Ashton." The Tranquil acknowledged in that uncanny monotone they tended to have. "Why are you here? And why did you bring a mage?" His eyes swung to Nostariel for a moment. "A Warden, at that." The last thing Rilien needed was the kind of attention that was bound to attract.
Ashton donned a mock pained expression and cooed, "Oh Rilsie, is that how you greet a friend? I am pained. I do not know how ever I shall recover from such a mortal wound!" he said clutching his heart. Just as quickly as it came though, the facade was dropped and the stupid grin returned. "Nah, just teasin'. She's a friend. She's alright. She's not your average Warden and what not-- Though just as grim-faced sometimes," he said grabbing her shoulder and squeezing. So he didn't miss the forlorn looks that she sometimes had about her, "Though the way you sniff out mages is... Disconcerting," He added with a puppy-like tilt of the head. Then again the subject was completely dropped and he hopped straight into another.
"Ah, introductions are in order. That is what people do in these situations, right?" He shrugged. Normal people perhaps. In their case, they were just a Templar shy of a bar joke, "Rilsie, this is the Warden Nostariel. Miss Nostie, this is Rilien. He's a friend, so don't let that emotionless tone fool you. Now... Who's missing," He said sarcastically and tapped a finger on his lips before snapping. "That's right, how ever could I forget! Can Sparrowsie come out to play too? There is an issue that has been brought to Nostie's attention and I pledged our services to her cause." He commented offhandedly. Though he seemed nonchalant about the statement, he carefully watched Rilien to see if it irked him in any way, shape, or form. He hadn't be able to play his game with the Tranquil for quite a bit. "Something, something Mages, something," he explained ever-so helpfully.
"Watching you attempt to render my services would doubtless be educational," Rilien replied, alluding without any apparent irritation to the considerable differences in the way they went about things. Following this, he turned towards Nostariel, fixing her with a flat stare. She swallowed; something about this man unnerved her, but that was probably just the Tranquility. It wasn't a stretch to say that most mages were not overly fond of the Tranquil, which was doubtless why they were kept in such close proximity. But...
"You're not part of the Circle?" she asked, unable to help herself. She'd seen no Tranquil in Kirkwall outside the Gallows, and certainly, the Chantry in Starkhaven had not made a habit of letting them wander around either, assuming they'd even want to. Were they not supposed to be content doing whatever they'd been told to do? That was what she'd always found the most alien, personally. And yet here this one was, living in Darktown, dressed not as a lay Chantry brother in their robes, but as a- rather stylish- citizen.
Rilien thought the answer to this question was obvious, and he ignored it. The question regarding Sparrow's whereabouts was considerably more relevant, and he nodded sagely to Ashton, still stonefaced. "Sparrow is out. I sent her on a delivery this morning. She has yet to return. I can locate her, if you wish, but her assistance is her own to offer or refuse." The empahsis was very, very slight, and Nostariel nearly missed it. Even though she'd picked it out, she had no idea what it meant, and was halfway inclined to believe she'd imagined it. She wasn't sure why the Tranquil- Rilien, Ashton had said- had ignored her, but she resolved not to be offended. Such a sentiment was probably pointless where the Tranquil were concerned. It wasn't like they were capable of offending intentionally.
"Sparrow?" she said instead. "I know a Sparrow. He comes by the Hanged Man rather frequently, and usually brings considerable... excitement with him?" Given Aston and Rilien's mutual feminine pronoun use, she wasn't sure they were all referring to the same Sparrow, but how many of them could there be?
"That would be her, yes," Rilien demurred blandly. "That does sound like our little birdy" Ashton agreed. Rilien didn't have to follow his hovel-mate into the bar to know the kind of ruckus she probably caused, after all. Glancing between the two of them once more, he shook his head minutely and closed his door behind him, locking it with a brass key on a ring of similar instruments. "Follow me, and I will lead you to her." "Aye my captain," Ashton said with a wink directed to Nostariel before falling in line. The Warden herself was more than a little perplexed by the situation, but she shrugged and brought up the rear anyway. Little of this endeavor was how she expected it to be, but given her particular outlook on life, that was not necessarily a bad thing.
I hope this letter finds you well. You will no doubt remember the boy Feynriel, whom you assisted in rescuing and escorting to the Dalish. I was the Templar assigned to bring the boy in. I do not seek to undo the work you have done in that regard, however, but something else entirely. Another matter involving the mages has arisen beyond the walls of the city, a situation that I fear could turn violent if it is not resolved soon. I do not believe the Order capable of ending this without bloodshed, and thus I turn to you.
Please, meet me outside of the eastern city gates at your earliest convenience, and I will lead you to them. I would recommend bringing others, but only those you trust. This is a matter most delicate.
Regards,
Ser Thrask.
Nostariel refolded the letter carefully, placing it into a pocket in her robes and sighing softly. A matter most delicate, was it? She wasn't sure she was properly euqipped for such things. She would better describe herself as a blunt instrument, to be directed to batter away at situations until something gave, but then that wasn't quite right either. Whatever she was, she needed help to do what this templar was asking her, and there was no mistaking that she would do it. That left the matter of who to go to for help. She knew several people with appropriate... skills, but not all of them were discreet.
Her first choice would have been Lucien, since he was most obviously capable of great discretion, but much to her dismay, he was nowhere to be found. She doubted very much that either Ithilian or Amalia would have any reaosn to assist her, and if Sophia was half as committed to the Chantry as she indicated, this was the kind of business it would be best if she didn't discover at all. Never mind that Nostariel would not feel comfortable asking the Viscount's daughter for a favor. Aurora was equally problematic, but for the opposite reasons. The idea of her mage friend working magic anywhere in the vicinity of templars unsettled her, and she shook her head. She wouldn't ask that of anyone.
Which was perhaps how she found herself outside a Lowtown shop she'd never been to before, glancing apprehensively at the sign swinging sideways above the door. It seemed like the right place, though she wasn't entirely confident that she should be here, asking this of him, of all people. He made her... vaguely uncomfortable, but this she was inclined to blame herself for. More than that, she had taken him to be some kind of mercenary, and there was to be no coin in this, of that she was certain. Still, what other option did she have? It was with a mild grimace and no small amount of trepidation that she pushed open the door, startling slightly at the unexpected sound of a bell tinkling. Reminding herself that this was no enemy fortress, she soothed her nerves and moved over the threshold.
It struck her that she wasn't really sure what to say, but she decided that she'd make it up as she went along. "...Excuse me? Ashton? Are you here?"
Ashton, ever the vigilant shopkeep he was, was sitting on top of his counter-- his usual seat-- sewing of all things. Deft fingers criss-crossed a cross-stitch, stitching together two pieces of fresh leather. At the sound of the bell ringing, he casually recited a memorized phrase, "Welcome to the Hunted Stag! You can't track a lower price than me!" not even taking his eyes off of the stitching at hand. When a familiar feminine voice responded, his eyes were torn from the work at hand and to the owner. Just as he thought, it was Nostariel. He opened his mouth to greet her, but somehow he managed to forget to stop stitching before talking, and a needle found it's way into his thumb.
He jerked as if a volt of electricity shot through his body at the pain, but managed to keep his composure. A hard twitch and a quiver of his smile was the only thing he was going to let Nostariel see. Inside however, was another story. Within the confines of his mind, a flurry of expletives, both common and colorful were being yelled. Had he been alone in the shop, he couldn't promise that the leather, needle, thread, and all wouldn't be flying towards the opposite corner of the shop in a fit of rage. As it stood, Ashton just smiled at Nostariel awkwardly and silently as the pain began to subside. Once he was sure he could speak without cussing, he finally did so, though there was an edge to his voice.
"Well. If it isn't pretty little Nostariel. What can I do for you milady? Can I interest you in any of my fine wares? Though, I doubt that's what you're after," Ashton admitted with a wink. She didn't seem like the type to want to wear his crude fabrications of leather, nor did she seem like the kind who bought venison from a run-down shop such as his. Hm. At this Ashton tilted his head, "If that's the case, what brings you to my humble little shop?" He asked, finally giving her time to answer.
Nostariel wasn't exactly sure why he was looking at her like that, face vaguely strained in its effort to maintain a smile. His hand twtiched, though, which naturally drew her attention, and she noted with something approaching amusement the small bead of blood welling from his thumb. "You can take a blade to the side or an arrow to the shoulder, but that still smarts, doesn't it?" she asked quietly, offering a half-smile and waving a hand nonchalantly. The faintest trickle of healing magic enveloped the tiny wound, easing the pain and closing up the small puncture. She hadn't missed his questions, though, and internally breathed a sigh of relief.
It was nice that he was so direct, else she'd have doubtless made a fool of herself trying to wade through small talk. Once upon a time, she'd thought nothing of idle conversations, and in fact was well-practiced at them, at least with one person in particular, but her life had sealed her lips together, in a sense, muting her voice and stilling her tongue. Now, when she spoke at all, it was of things either useful or otherwise important, as she was sure most of the people she knew could attest. She wasn't always... clear about it, nor transparent in her demeanor, but she certainly couldn't manage much in the way of pleasantry anymore.
Which was why, though she sensed she should glance around the shop and offer some sort of comment on the merchandise within, she didn't. "Er... actually, no. Sorry. I came to ask for your help, really. I- well, perhaps it's best if you just read this." Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew the folded leteer on its heavy vellum and handed it over, allowing Ashton a moment to peruse its contents before she explained further. "There are... precious few people I can turn to about this, and unfortunately, about half of them are presently... unavailable. I was hoping I might be able to impose? I can't offer much in the way of coin, but I do bring in a stipend for my posting here. Next week's is yours, if you would like it."
Ashton sat the leather to the side and crossed his legs as he listened to what little Nostariel had to say. Though, it was scant little, just a favor to read a letter. He accepted it and turned his nose down as he read it, nodding along with the contents. The contents that sounded extremely interesting and in a way-- fun. "Hm. Mages? There seems to be a lot of issues involving mages recently. No offense of course. You're among my top favorite mages," one of which was of course Sparrow. And perhaps Rilien. Did Rilien count as a mage? He was a mage once. Hm. Perhaps a question for the white haired elf himself. Ashton also noted the recent surge of mage activity, remembering his own experiences with Sparrow and Rilien, along with the past event alluded to in the letter.
He craned his neck to glance at the unfinished leather good and then back to the paper. Ah. Decisions, decisions. He could either suffer and toil in his shop. Or agree to help the little dove in front of him and do the world a little bit of good. To be fair, it wasn't a difficult decision. He handed the little back to Nostariel with a little flourish, handing it to her in his upraised palm, and then hopped of the counter. "Give me a minute and let me get my things. The fellow who commissioned the jacket can wait a little bit longer, don't you say?" Ashton asked as he made his way around the counter to grab his bow and quiver. As he did, he continued to speak, "As for the payment, don't worry your pretty little head over it. I won't take money from you," he said, peaking his head from over the counter, "The only payment I require is a smile," he finished, standing with his bow and quiver in hand.
Nostariel found that, as she had come to expect with Ashton in their very breif acquaintance, her conversational input was only minimally necessary. Considering her own reticence, this worked out quite well for her, and she simply nodded along, considerably relieved that he was agreeing to help, and at no expense, no less. It was still odd to her when she encountered generous people; she certainly hadn't grown up around anyone who had much means to be charitable, and the Wardens couldn't spare much of anything but their service to their cause. In a way, that was probably the ultimate form of self-sacrifice, but on the other hand it left very little in terms of time and resources for just... helping with the more-or-less mundane intricacies of everyday life. If she'd had regular duties in the Deep Roads, she might have been unable to assist, but all they'd told her was that she was to do assignments if they came in.
So far, none had, leading her to the belief that they really were just retiring her.
Ashton's words dragged her back to the present. "As much as I would like it to be just us two on this mission together, in case things go... South, perhaps we should see if a couple of my associates would like to lend their help for this worthy cause?" He'd also want to see if Rilien would still classify himself as a mage. Sparrow would hop in without hesitation, he knew. They did share the same sense of adventure, and there was no way she could say no to a pretty face like Nostariel's. Rilien... Well, they could drag Rilien along. He raised his eyebrow as he awaited her answer.
She wasn't surprised that he had people one would call 'associates.' She wondered if that was what they were now, come to think of it. She doubted very much that Ithilian or Amalia were her associates in this sense, but it seemed plausible to think that Aurora might be, and Sophia in a sense. Lucien was almost a friend, and that probably counted. The thought that she might have here one more such person was not at all unpleasant, and she found herself curious as to just what kind of people he'd give that label to. The suggestion was practical besides, and she nodded sagely. "That.. seems a good idea. If you want to lead us to them, I will follow." She didn't indicate the way out the door as a signal to go, largely because he obviously knew where it was and also because she had no wish to seem impatient or force departure before he was prepared.
"The let us be off my fair maiden," he grinned as he produced a keyring from his pocket. He led the way out of the shop, spinning the keyring on his finger before stopping and locking the door. He pocketed the keys again and began to walk off to where Rilien and Sparrow's hovel was. It was so convienent that they lived in the same place, he didn't have to spend the afternoon hunting them down separately. Though, he did hope both of them were home. And free.
"If you don't mind me asking... Who is this Feynriel kid the letter spoke of? Ashton asked trying to make small talk.
It was not lost on her that they were descending into Darktown, a place that she seldom had cause to visit, except when she was feeling cheerful enough to endure concentrated doses of sorrow without succumbing to it, which was incredibly infrequently. Still, she'd made it known that she could be found in the Tavern if anyone was in urgent need of healing. It was the best she could do without making herself even more miserable and bitter than she already was. It wasn't enough, but then it wouldn't have been no matter how much she was able to give. The problems were just that oppressive down here. In a way, reminding her of something she'd actually more or less succeeded at was the kindest thing Ashton could have done, thought she doubted he knew that.
"Feynriel's a friend, I suppose you could say." She'd been to visit him nearly weekly since his recovery, and though he was distinctly uncomfortable still among his mother's people, she sensed that her visits helped somewhat, and she was certainly convinced it was better than the Circle. "A boy who discovered his magic in the wrong city. He's with family now." She couldn't give away anything more explicit than that; though she trusted that Ashton was no Templar in disguise, it was not her secret to tell.
Some time after their entrance into Darktown, she found that Ashton had led them to a hovel, notable for the fact that it appeared to be constructed of mostly-sturdy material. It was a wonder that nobody had stolen the non-rotting pieces of wood from the facade yet, and she suspected that if the acquaintances Ashton was referring to were as skilled as he was, that might have something to do with it. To Nostariel's surprise, the door opened as they drew within ten feet of it, opening to reveal a man she dimly recognized. The memory was fuzzy (for the usual reasons, unfortunately), but she was quite certain it was associated with music that she'd found quite sublime. Since she didn't often go other places where music was to be found, she could only assume he'd played at the Hanged Man at some stage. She hadn't formed a memory of the odd coloration or sunburst brand, though, and her eyes widened near-comically. A Tranquil? Was it perhaps the case that Ashton had Chantry loyalty after all?
"Ashton." The Tranquil acknowledged in that uncanny monotone they tended to have. "Why are you here? And why did you bring a mage?" His eyes swung to Nostariel for a moment. "A Warden, at that." The last thing Rilien needed was the kind of attention that was bound to attract.
Ashton donned a mock pained expression and cooed, "Oh Rilsie, is that how you greet a friend? I am pained. I do not know how ever I shall recover from such a mortal wound!" he said clutching his heart. Just as quickly as it came though, the facade was dropped and the stupid grin returned. "Nah, just teasin'. She's a friend. She's alright. She's not your average Warden and what not-- Though just as grim-faced sometimes," he said grabbing her shoulder and squeezing. So he didn't miss the forlorn looks that she sometimes had about her, "Though the way you sniff out mages is... Disconcerting," He added with a puppy-like tilt of the head. Then again the subject was completely dropped and he hopped straight into another.
"Ah, introductions are in order. That is what people do in these situations, right?" He shrugged. Normal people perhaps. In their case, they were just a Templar shy of a bar joke, "Rilsie, this is the Warden Nostariel. Miss Nostie, this is Rilien. He's a friend, so don't let that emotionless tone fool you. Now... Who's missing," He said sarcastically and tapped a finger on his lips before snapping. "That's right, how ever could I forget! Can Sparrowsie come out to play too? There is an issue that has been brought to Nostie's attention and I pledged our services to her cause." He commented offhandedly. Though he seemed nonchalant about the statement, he carefully watched Rilien to see if it irked him in any way, shape, or form. He hadn't be able to play his game with the Tranquil for quite a bit. "Something, something Mages, something," he explained ever-so helpfully.
"Watching you attempt to render my services would doubtless be educational," Rilien replied, alluding without any apparent irritation to the considerable differences in the way they went about things. Following this, he turned towards Nostariel, fixing her with a flat stare. She swallowed; something about this man unnerved her, but that was probably just the Tranquility. It wasn't a stretch to say that most mages were not overly fond of the Tranquil, which was doubtless why they were kept in such close proximity. But...
"You're not part of the Circle?" she asked, unable to help herself. She'd seen no Tranquil in Kirkwall outside the Gallows, and certainly, the Chantry in Starkhaven had not made a habit of letting them wander around either, assuming they'd even want to. Were they not supposed to be content doing whatever they'd been told to do? That was what she'd always found the most alien, personally. And yet here this one was, living in Darktown, dressed not as a lay Chantry brother in their robes, but as a- rather stylish- citizen.
Rilien thought the answer to this question was obvious, and he ignored it. The question regarding Sparrow's whereabouts was considerably more relevant, and he nodded sagely to Ashton, still stonefaced. "Sparrow is out. I sent her on a delivery this morning. She has yet to return. I can locate her, if you wish, but her assistance is her own to offer or refuse." The empahsis was very, very slight, and Nostariel nearly missed it. Even though she'd picked it out, she had no idea what it meant, and was halfway inclined to believe she'd imagined it. She wasn't sure why the Tranquil- Rilien, Ashton had said- had ignored her, but she resolved not to be offended. Such a sentiment was probably pointless where the Tranquil were concerned. It wasn't like they were capable of offending intentionally.
"Sparrow?" she said instead. "I know a Sparrow. He comes by the Hanged Man rather frequently, and usually brings considerable... excitement with him?" Given Aston and Rilien's mutual feminine pronoun use, she wasn't sure they were all referring to the same Sparrow, but how many of them could there be?
"That would be her, yes," Rilien demurred blandly. "That does sound like our little birdy" Ashton agreed. Rilien didn't have to follow his hovel-mate into the bar to know the kind of ruckus she probably caused, after all. Glancing between the two of them once more, he shook his head minutely and closed his door behind him, locking it with a brass key on a ring of similar instruments. "Follow me, and I will lead you to her." "Aye my captain," Ashton said with a wink directed to Nostariel before falling in line. The Warden herself was more than a little perplexed by the situation, but she shrugged and brought up the rear anyway. Little of this endeavor was how she expected it to be, but given her particular outlook on life, that was not necessarily a bad thing.