"Despite your efforts," the Viscount said to Sophia, tiredly rubbing his fingers against his forehead, "this situation only continues to escalate."
The afternoon was growing old by this point, and Sophia had so far been spending the day resting, something she hardly ever thought to do lately. It had seemed like the situation with the Qunari had been pushed aside somewhat after ending the threat to Lowtown, but it seemed now as though she was mistaken. It was probably foolish of her to be so optimistic. The fanatics among her beloved Chantry simply wouldn't let this go. They refused to see that there were other possibilities that did not involve bloodshed. A bloody solution would only result in their own blood being spilled... surely they could see that? "What has happened now, Father?" Sophia asked. She worked to keep her own tiredness from her tone, but it slipped in anyway.
Her father didn't like to see that, of course, but he had finally come to accept that his daughter had grown into a very capable woman, and that few other people had the drive and the ability that was needed to keep the peace. Dangerous as her work was, Sophia and her friends were the best group in the city at getting things done, and that was what was needed now, tired or no. "A Qunari delegate and entourage paid me a visit," he explained. "It was civil, tentative, even hopeful. They left my chambers with precision, but were not reported by the outer guard. They are missing almost literally from my doorstep."
Well, that was bad news. She could only imagine the Arishok's reaction. An attempt to establish better relations, this time arranged by the Qunari and not the Viscount or his daughter, and how do they respond? By making them disappear, of course. This... this was very bad. It smelled of war in the making, and they simply couldn't afford war, not now. "Maker..." Sophia whispered to herself, though the Maker didn't seem to be doing all that much in the matter of the Qunari. "I can fix this. I'll get them back to the compound safely, Father."
"Please be careful, Sophia. We've been trying to turn this stampede for some time now, but someone is pushing very hard." Sophia nodded. She was already thinking of who she would want to help her on this. Lucien, of course, and Nostariel, if she was available. Perhaps some cooperation with the Qunari would be wise as well, considering that she knew one who had helped her before for a good cause. "Speak with Bran," the Viscount continued. "And spread this only to those you can trust. This must be resolved quietly."
She knew that as well, and so she departed to find Seneschal Bran awaiting her outside the Viscount's office. He looked reluctant to speak with her, which she found somewhat odd. Still, he put on a smile, if a forced one. "Good day, Sophia. I understand you're to be tracking down the Qunari entourage. I... would prefer that we do not do this at all, but your father has given me orders." That struck her as odd. "What do you mean? You would prefer them not to be found?"
"I must always think of what is best for the Viscount and his family, Sophia. Bringing attention to this incident... well, it benefits no one." She knew he meant only to ensure their well-being by saying such a thing, but she found herself disappointed in them. "Bran, they were abducted. How could we just let this happen?" He crossed his arms. "Please, Sophia, if you would keep your voice low. The Qunari are... neutral hostiles at best. There is no relationship to salvage by overextending ourselves on their behalf."
"So because there is no relationship at the moment, we should make no efforts to improve it?" She would have argued with him more on the point, but they had more important things to discuss. "Regardless, I'm going to find them, and ensure they return safely to their compound. How were they even abducted? I should think any attempt would have resulted in a bloodbath." At that, Bran grimaced slightly. "Unfortunately, they were not at their best. Their swords were tied into their sheaths... as I advised."
He shrugged, but Sophia could not blame him for it, as his reasoning showed. "It seemed a respectful compromise. Even I know you cannot separate a Qunari from his weapon." It would explain a good deal, though every Qunari warrior accompanying the Arishok was quite physically impressive. Whoever had pulled this off clearly had some amount of power, and undoubtedly help from the inside. The guard would never have screwed up this colossally. Unless they were involved, of course. "We should start with the city guard. They must have been involved, for this to have happened."
"Agreed," Bran said. "Not coincidentally, a number of recent recruits have failed to report. I would start with one of them. Although, where you find a swordsman so eager to sell his honor and duty, I'm sure I don't know." Well, that was an easy one. "The Hanged Man, then." He nodded. "Surely this hasn't gone without notice. There is always a weak link. Good luck, Sophia. And please, be careful." She could only hear be careful so many times before it gave her a desire to go and do something reckless. Sophia left Bran and returned to her own quarters. She suspected she'd need her armor before this was resolved.
Lucien had never stained and sealed a floor before, but he supposed that there truly must be a first time for everything. He already knew much more about carpentry than he ever had before, and he couldnāt help but be grateful for the new skills. Whether or not they would ever be of use to him again was irrelevantāthe fact was that he was gaining them, and this was worth it own labor. So, stain brush in one hand and clean linen rag in the other, Lucien set about the task of coloring and sealing the floor of what would soon be the barracks of his mercenary company. There was something quite satisfying in thinking thatāin knowing that perhaps, he could do something just as worthwhile here as heād done at home.
Not that he thought what heād been doing so far was unworthy, it justā¦ it wasnāt on the scale to which heād grown accustomed. In every nation, there were a certain number of people upon whom history itself could very well depend, and though perhaps heād not quite yet reached that status in Orlais, he was certainly groomed for it, and to be acting again on a larger scale like that at once daunted and encouraged him. There was a lot of good a whole company could do, and at last the interviews had started to take a good turn. Heād be starting with ten men and women. Not a lot, but a considerable number more than heād been willing to count on. With time, those ten would be the foundation for the rest. Lucien had learned patience, a hard, but invaluable lesson, and now he was putting it to use.
A couple of hours saw the task done, and the mercenary straightened, swiping his forehead with the back of his hand. His mail and plate lay a short distance off, in one of the side rooms, and for the moment, he wore nothing more complicated than a dark blue tunic, some tan breeches, and dark leather boots. He took a few seconds to retie the tail at the base of his neck and surveyed his work with a sense of satisfaction. The place was coming together nicely: all of the rough carpentry had been completed in the last couple of days, and with the floors and the walls now both clean and ready to go, it only remained to move furniture and people into the space. The faƧade of the building was now a deep red stone, and a sign hung out in front of the space, advertising the Argent Lion mercenary company, which heād been advised would be much better shortened to the āLionsā or perhaps even āLionhearts.ā He wasnāt all that picky, truth be told, but he had taken the color from his own family device, only this silver beast rampaged on a field of maroon, a tribute to the dark red of the Viscountās own house, and a nice contrast with the silver. Lucien was enough an artist to appreciate the significance of color, and the sign was something heād painted himself.
Speaking of the Viscountās house, a knock sounded on his brand-new door, and when he bade the visitor enter, he was pleasantly surprised to see that it was Sophia. He smiled, cleaning his hands off on a clean corner of the cloth, and ushered her in. The floor was dry enough as it was. āApologies,ā he said mildly, ābut the furniture will not be in for another few days. Iāve nowhere to offer you a seat.ā Then again, he doubted she'd come all the way out here just to see him. That would be ratherā¦ well, rather nice, honestly, but perhaps not something either of them had the time for. āSomething I can do for you, Sophia?ā
The effort Lucien was putting into this place was making it look fantastic already, and it made Sophia smile. She could imagine what it would look like when it was completed and occupied, and of course it would only look better than she expected. There was a kind of extraordinary care that went into everything he did, as though the floor of the building was no less important than the work that had gone into painting her mother's face for the first time. And she liked the name, too. The lion suited Lucien very well.
"It's coming along beautifully," she said, taking a good look around, though the fact that she was fully armed and armored again implied that she was here for more than checking up on his work, and her face darkened somewhat. "I'm afraid something's happened at the Keep... a possible complication to our relations with the Qunari." She wondered if he was just as tired of holding this line as she was, considering how she enlisted his aid in almost every matter involving the Arishok and his warriors now. There was sadly no time for rest.
"A delegate and his entourage disappeared from the steps of the Keep shortly after meeting my father, and no one seems to know where they've gone. The city guard couldn't possibly have let this happen without some knowledge, so the plan is currently to search for a loose tongue, at the Hanged Man perhaps. I was hoping I could perhaps pull you away from here... and maybe we could beat up some corrupt guardsmen?" She imagined there would at least be some resistance, if they were being paid to look the other way. In a place like the Hanged Man, things could escalate quickly.
āMmā¦ā Lucien murmured, looking faintly troubled for a moment before he rearranged his face into a small, slightly sardonic smile. Nodding, he took the few steps to his mail and slid the shirt of it on as he spoke. Not a trace of the large puncture in it remained, though in all likelihood, his actual flesh would bear the serpentās scar for the rest of his life. It was a toll heād paid many a time, and one heād gladly pay again. āOf course Iāll help,ā he said without hesitation, buckling his chestplate into place deftly. āThe work here will keep, and this is surely more important anyway.ā
Yet another instance of corruption within the guard, perhaps. He supposed he could only hope that this one was not so pervasive as the last, though the sigh exhaled through his nose was evidence that he would stake nothing on such an optimistic thought. The kidnapping of a delegate and his entourage required no small amount of planning, and not insignificant manpower. It was, he supposed as he pulled a leather strap to tighten his gauntlet into place, hardly prudent to assume that the Chantry had nothing to do with it, either. Everything in Kirkwall seemed to run in the same circular patterns, as though sometimes, all that they and their friends achieved was to begin a new rotation of the same by bringing the old one to a close.
He still could not shake the suspicion that eventually, these circles would break apart, and throw them all onto a path from which there was no escaping. He did not know where it would lead, but he had a few good guesses, and he would hold off that seemingly-inevitable fracture for as long as he possibly could. Peace was worth preserving, even if war always loomed on the horizon. Never mind that this peace was already as tense and tenuous as they cameāthat only made the job they did, standing in the middle and trying to maintain a precarious balance, all that much more important. āI admit, I havenāt beaten anyone up in a good week, at least. I was going to go clear out a cave on the Coast just to stave off the boredom, but this will serve just as well.ā It was a joke, but only kind of. Perhaps it was a bit unusual to spend oneās free days running bandits out of their warrens, butā¦ Lucien was a bit unusual himself, so it ought be expected by this point.
"Some extra friends couldn't hurt," Sophia said. "I imagine the trail won't lead to a pretty place. Perhaps Nostariel will be able to join us." And perhaps they wouldn't find three extra people to come along this time. "I'd also thought this might be something Amalia would be interested in. She's certainly discreet, and I think her insight into the Qunari will be most useful."
The early mornings at Nostarielās clinic were usually occupied by families or children who were sick, and these could generally be sent on their way with a potion or tonic of some kind. Nostarielās came generally from either Rilien (through Lucien), or, more often, Amalia, so either way, they were essentially the best a person could get in Kirkwall, no matter what Lady Elegant likes to say about her elfroot brews. The clinic itself held odd, sometimes varying hours, but it was almost always open in the morning, so predictably by early afternoon, her work had trickled off considerably. Sheād had a pair of dockworkers show up with broken limbs from a bad accident with a shipping crate around lunch, but since then, nothing at all. The Warden took the opportunity to catch up on her paperwork and invoices, which always gave her a headache but were necessary all the same.
She wasnāt even running a business, per se, and she still had this much to do with shipments and licenses and the rather complicated matter of the lease she had on this building. It was technically hers, but the previous owner had wanted smaller payments for some reason, and she supposed that was his right as seller. For Nostariel, it was just one more thing to administrate, for someone whoād never really had to deal with this side of leadership in her lifetime. Grey Wardens didnāt have a whole lot of parchment documentation. Just one more reason to respect people like Sophia and Lucien, she supposed.
Of course, it was common superstition that thinking of people summoned them, and she couldnāt help but smile to herself when they both happened to walk right in through her front door just then, as though she really had bidden them. From the state of their dress and the looks on their faces, though, this was not a friendly visit. The smile dropped off her face as they explained their presence, and the elf toyed with one of the spiraling silver drops hanging from the lobe an ear, nodding when all was said. āSounds serious,ā she said gravely, then took her bow and quiver from where they lay against her wall and slung them over her back. She went without the staff now, mostly, preferring to channel her healing through her hands. She laced up her only leather bracer and accompanied the two out of the clinic, flipping the sign therein to āclosedā and braiding her hair as she went. āHave you considered speaking with Amalia?ā She was aware that both knew the Qunari woman, but she could not testify as to the relationships they held.
"I have," Sophia answered. "I think she'd be a great help here." She would also likely have some idea how the Qunari, and more important the Arishok himself, were going to react to all of this, and how best to maintain the peace. She knew the Qun and what it demanded of them. If there was a way to avoid having it demand bloodshed, Sophia wanted to find it.
The afternoon was growing old by this point, and Sophia had so far been spending the day resting, something she hardly ever thought to do lately. It had seemed like the situation with the Qunari had been pushed aside somewhat after ending the threat to Lowtown, but it seemed now as though she was mistaken. It was probably foolish of her to be so optimistic. The fanatics among her beloved Chantry simply wouldn't let this go. They refused to see that there were other possibilities that did not involve bloodshed. A bloody solution would only result in their own blood being spilled... surely they could see that? "What has happened now, Father?" Sophia asked. She worked to keep her own tiredness from her tone, but it slipped in anyway.
Her father didn't like to see that, of course, but he had finally come to accept that his daughter had grown into a very capable woman, and that few other people had the drive and the ability that was needed to keep the peace. Dangerous as her work was, Sophia and her friends were the best group in the city at getting things done, and that was what was needed now, tired or no. "A Qunari delegate and entourage paid me a visit," he explained. "It was civil, tentative, even hopeful. They left my chambers with precision, but were not reported by the outer guard. They are missing almost literally from my doorstep."
Well, that was bad news. She could only imagine the Arishok's reaction. An attempt to establish better relations, this time arranged by the Qunari and not the Viscount or his daughter, and how do they respond? By making them disappear, of course. This... this was very bad. It smelled of war in the making, and they simply couldn't afford war, not now. "Maker..." Sophia whispered to herself, though the Maker didn't seem to be doing all that much in the matter of the Qunari. "I can fix this. I'll get them back to the compound safely, Father."
"Please be careful, Sophia. We've been trying to turn this stampede for some time now, but someone is pushing very hard." Sophia nodded. She was already thinking of who she would want to help her on this. Lucien, of course, and Nostariel, if she was available. Perhaps some cooperation with the Qunari would be wise as well, considering that she knew one who had helped her before for a good cause. "Speak with Bran," the Viscount continued. "And spread this only to those you can trust. This must be resolved quietly."
She knew that as well, and so she departed to find Seneschal Bran awaiting her outside the Viscount's office. He looked reluctant to speak with her, which she found somewhat odd. Still, he put on a smile, if a forced one. "Good day, Sophia. I understand you're to be tracking down the Qunari entourage. I... would prefer that we do not do this at all, but your father has given me orders." That struck her as odd. "What do you mean? You would prefer them not to be found?"
"I must always think of what is best for the Viscount and his family, Sophia. Bringing attention to this incident... well, it benefits no one." She knew he meant only to ensure their well-being by saying such a thing, but she found herself disappointed in them. "Bran, they were abducted. How could we just let this happen?" He crossed his arms. "Please, Sophia, if you would keep your voice low. The Qunari are... neutral hostiles at best. There is no relationship to salvage by overextending ourselves on their behalf."
"So because there is no relationship at the moment, we should make no efforts to improve it?" She would have argued with him more on the point, but they had more important things to discuss. "Regardless, I'm going to find them, and ensure they return safely to their compound. How were they even abducted? I should think any attempt would have resulted in a bloodbath." At that, Bran grimaced slightly. "Unfortunately, they were not at their best. Their swords were tied into their sheaths... as I advised."
He shrugged, but Sophia could not blame him for it, as his reasoning showed. "It seemed a respectful compromise. Even I know you cannot separate a Qunari from his weapon." It would explain a good deal, though every Qunari warrior accompanying the Arishok was quite physically impressive. Whoever had pulled this off clearly had some amount of power, and undoubtedly help from the inside. The guard would never have screwed up this colossally. Unless they were involved, of course. "We should start with the city guard. They must have been involved, for this to have happened."
"Agreed," Bran said. "Not coincidentally, a number of recent recruits have failed to report. I would start with one of them. Although, where you find a swordsman so eager to sell his honor and duty, I'm sure I don't know." Well, that was an easy one. "The Hanged Man, then." He nodded. "Surely this hasn't gone without notice. There is always a weak link. Good luck, Sophia. And please, be careful." She could only hear be careful so many times before it gave her a desire to go and do something reckless. Sophia left Bran and returned to her own quarters. She suspected she'd need her armor before this was resolved.
Lucien had never stained and sealed a floor before, but he supposed that there truly must be a first time for everything. He already knew much more about carpentry than he ever had before, and he couldnāt help but be grateful for the new skills. Whether or not they would ever be of use to him again was irrelevantāthe fact was that he was gaining them, and this was worth it own labor. So, stain brush in one hand and clean linen rag in the other, Lucien set about the task of coloring and sealing the floor of what would soon be the barracks of his mercenary company. There was something quite satisfying in thinking thatāin knowing that perhaps, he could do something just as worthwhile here as heād done at home.
Not that he thought what heād been doing so far was unworthy, it justā¦ it wasnāt on the scale to which heād grown accustomed. In every nation, there were a certain number of people upon whom history itself could very well depend, and though perhaps heād not quite yet reached that status in Orlais, he was certainly groomed for it, and to be acting again on a larger scale like that at once daunted and encouraged him. There was a lot of good a whole company could do, and at last the interviews had started to take a good turn. Heād be starting with ten men and women. Not a lot, but a considerable number more than heād been willing to count on. With time, those ten would be the foundation for the rest. Lucien had learned patience, a hard, but invaluable lesson, and now he was putting it to use.
A couple of hours saw the task done, and the mercenary straightened, swiping his forehead with the back of his hand. His mail and plate lay a short distance off, in one of the side rooms, and for the moment, he wore nothing more complicated than a dark blue tunic, some tan breeches, and dark leather boots. He took a few seconds to retie the tail at the base of his neck and surveyed his work with a sense of satisfaction. The place was coming together nicely: all of the rough carpentry had been completed in the last couple of days, and with the floors and the walls now both clean and ready to go, it only remained to move furniture and people into the space. The faƧade of the building was now a deep red stone, and a sign hung out in front of the space, advertising the Argent Lion mercenary company, which heād been advised would be much better shortened to the āLionsā or perhaps even āLionhearts.ā He wasnāt all that picky, truth be told, but he had taken the color from his own family device, only this silver beast rampaged on a field of maroon, a tribute to the dark red of the Viscountās own house, and a nice contrast with the silver. Lucien was enough an artist to appreciate the significance of color, and the sign was something heād painted himself.
Speaking of the Viscountās house, a knock sounded on his brand-new door, and when he bade the visitor enter, he was pleasantly surprised to see that it was Sophia. He smiled, cleaning his hands off on a clean corner of the cloth, and ushered her in. The floor was dry enough as it was. āApologies,ā he said mildly, ābut the furniture will not be in for another few days. Iāve nowhere to offer you a seat.ā Then again, he doubted she'd come all the way out here just to see him. That would be ratherā¦ well, rather nice, honestly, but perhaps not something either of them had the time for. āSomething I can do for you, Sophia?ā
The effort Lucien was putting into this place was making it look fantastic already, and it made Sophia smile. She could imagine what it would look like when it was completed and occupied, and of course it would only look better than she expected. There was a kind of extraordinary care that went into everything he did, as though the floor of the building was no less important than the work that had gone into painting her mother's face for the first time. And she liked the name, too. The lion suited Lucien very well.
"It's coming along beautifully," she said, taking a good look around, though the fact that she was fully armed and armored again implied that she was here for more than checking up on his work, and her face darkened somewhat. "I'm afraid something's happened at the Keep... a possible complication to our relations with the Qunari." She wondered if he was just as tired of holding this line as she was, considering how she enlisted his aid in almost every matter involving the Arishok and his warriors now. There was sadly no time for rest.
"A delegate and his entourage disappeared from the steps of the Keep shortly after meeting my father, and no one seems to know where they've gone. The city guard couldn't possibly have let this happen without some knowledge, so the plan is currently to search for a loose tongue, at the Hanged Man perhaps. I was hoping I could perhaps pull you away from here... and maybe we could beat up some corrupt guardsmen?" She imagined there would at least be some resistance, if they were being paid to look the other way. In a place like the Hanged Man, things could escalate quickly.
āMmā¦ā Lucien murmured, looking faintly troubled for a moment before he rearranged his face into a small, slightly sardonic smile. Nodding, he took the few steps to his mail and slid the shirt of it on as he spoke. Not a trace of the large puncture in it remained, though in all likelihood, his actual flesh would bear the serpentās scar for the rest of his life. It was a toll heād paid many a time, and one heād gladly pay again. āOf course Iāll help,ā he said without hesitation, buckling his chestplate into place deftly. āThe work here will keep, and this is surely more important anyway.ā
Yet another instance of corruption within the guard, perhaps. He supposed he could only hope that this one was not so pervasive as the last, though the sigh exhaled through his nose was evidence that he would stake nothing on such an optimistic thought. The kidnapping of a delegate and his entourage required no small amount of planning, and not insignificant manpower. It was, he supposed as he pulled a leather strap to tighten his gauntlet into place, hardly prudent to assume that the Chantry had nothing to do with it, either. Everything in Kirkwall seemed to run in the same circular patterns, as though sometimes, all that they and their friends achieved was to begin a new rotation of the same by bringing the old one to a close.
He still could not shake the suspicion that eventually, these circles would break apart, and throw them all onto a path from which there was no escaping. He did not know where it would lead, but he had a few good guesses, and he would hold off that seemingly-inevitable fracture for as long as he possibly could. Peace was worth preserving, even if war always loomed on the horizon. Never mind that this peace was already as tense and tenuous as they cameāthat only made the job they did, standing in the middle and trying to maintain a precarious balance, all that much more important. āI admit, I havenāt beaten anyone up in a good week, at least. I was going to go clear out a cave on the Coast just to stave off the boredom, but this will serve just as well.ā It was a joke, but only kind of. Perhaps it was a bit unusual to spend oneās free days running bandits out of their warrens, butā¦ Lucien was a bit unusual himself, so it ought be expected by this point.
"Some extra friends couldn't hurt," Sophia said. "I imagine the trail won't lead to a pretty place. Perhaps Nostariel will be able to join us." And perhaps they wouldn't find three extra people to come along this time. "I'd also thought this might be something Amalia would be interested in. She's certainly discreet, and I think her insight into the Qunari will be most useful."
The early mornings at Nostarielās clinic were usually occupied by families or children who were sick, and these could generally be sent on their way with a potion or tonic of some kind. Nostarielās came generally from either Rilien (through Lucien), or, more often, Amalia, so either way, they were essentially the best a person could get in Kirkwall, no matter what Lady Elegant likes to say about her elfroot brews. The clinic itself held odd, sometimes varying hours, but it was almost always open in the morning, so predictably by early afternoon, her work had trickled off considerably. Sheād had a pair of dockworkers show up with broken limbs from a bad accident with a shipping crate around lunch, but since then, nothing at all. The Warden took the opportunity to catch up on her paperwork and invoices, which always gave her a headache but were necessary all the same.
She wasnāt even running a business, per se, and she still had this much to do with shipments and licenses and the rather complicated matter of the lease she had on this building. It was technically hers, but the previous owner had wanted smaller payments for some reason, and she supposed that was his right as seller. For Nostariel, it was just one more thing to administrate, for someone whoād never really had to deal with this side of leadership in her lifetime. Grey Wardens didnāt have a whole lot of parchment documentation. Just one more reason to respect people like Sophia and Lucien, she supposed.
Of course, it was common superstition that thinking of people summoned them, and she couldnāt help but smile to herself when they both happened to walk right in through her front door just then, as though she really had bidden them. From the state of their dress and the looks on their faces, though, this was not a friendly visit. The smile dropped off her face as they explained their presence, and the elf toyed with one of the spiraling silver drops hanging from the lobe an ear, nodding when all was said. āSounds serious,ā she said gravely, then took her bow and quiver from where they lay against her wall and slung them over her back. She went without the staff now, mostly, preferring to channel her healing through her hands. She laced up her only leather bracer and accompanied the two out of the clinic, flipping the sign therein to āclosedā and braiding her hair as she went. āHave you considered speaking with Amalia?ā She was aware that both knew the Qunari woman, but she could not testify as to the relationships they held.
"I have," Sophia answered. "I think she'd be a great help here." She would also likely have some idea how the Qunari, and more important the Arishok himself, were going to react to all of this, and how best to maintain the peace. She knew the Qun and what it demanded of them. If there was a way to avoid having it demand bloodshed, Sophia wanted to find it.