Post #2512861 in The City of Chains, a roleplay on RPG

With a resolve held up by cracking pillars, the Viscount's daughter emerged from the Keep.

The sun would soon be setting on another day, and though Sophia had wanted more than anything to continue hiding, to ignore the terrible tidings that Bran was bringing her, her guilt at doing nothing was eventually able to overcome her shame, at what she'd already failed to do. She looked like a woman possessed of an illness, and she supposed grief was close enough to a sickness for it to count. Sleep had not come easily, but when it had finally overtaken her, she'd dozed through events that seemed destined to destroy Kirkwall. The guard captain had revealed a hatred of elves, attempted to commit atrocities he never would have dared had she been there to make him answer for it, and succeeded in finally setting fire to a bridge that had never been built with the Qunari. Now the Arishok harbored dozens of elves, several of which were reported to have committed very serious crimes, and potentially were using conversion as an attempt to escape punishment. The law required that someone go in and retrieve them, that they might be judged properly. But Sophia also intended to make one last attempt, a pointless appeal, as the Arishok might say, to stop the seemingly inevitable violence. It was an idea that was perhaps doomed to failure before she even set out, but Sophia had already seen what occurred when she did nothing, and she would not sit idly by again.

Blearily she had risen, washing herself off in a half-hearted attempt to make herself look like a future ruler again. She dressed, braided her hair, and pulled on her armor, feeling as though it was twice as heavy as normal. She felt no appetite, but knew that she needed to eat, and so she managed to consume a meager dinner before she buckled her sword belt across her chest, sliding the blade named for her foolish mother into the sheath. Assigning a personal force of four guards to her (ones she knew personally, which she felt necessary after what she'd heard of recent events), Sophia immediately set out for Lowtown. Though she felt defeated already, she did her best not to show it, putting up a thin illusion that the Viscount's daughter was still confident, capable, and going to make things right.

The streets were quieter than usual, she noted, informed citizens wisely choosing to brace themselves for what was likely to come. Some still seemed in blissful denial, however, particularly the ones with strong anti-Qunari leanings. She heard the word 'hornhead' uttered several times on her way to Lowtown. They would not say such things when the Arishok's vanguard came to burn these neighborhoods to the ground, she knew.

Sophia instructed the guards to wait upon reaching Lucien's street, and she proceeded to his door alone. Normally, she would have sent summons and had her friends meet her at the Keep, but waiting longer would have only hurt the situation further, and deteriorated her resolve. She needed to be moving right now, acting. To hesitate now would paralyze her. She knocked on Lucien's door.

Lucien had only heard about the chaos in Hightown after all was said and done already, and he felt guilty for missing it, considering the state he caught Nostariel in when he dropped by the clinic. Apparently, everyone else involved was much worse off, but currently resting. He couldn’t say how much longer they would be granted to do that, considering, but perhaps they would be able to avoid the worst of what was to come. There must be very little for the Qunari to want in the Alienage. If Amalia was right—and he had no reason to believe she wasn’t—the Arishok’s target was much more likely to be the Keep, or perhaps the Chantry. Though if he had to lay money on the outcome, he personally would guess that it was the Keep.

It was fair to say that this thought was fraying his nerves considerably. Of all the aspects of warfare, the waiting had always been hardest for him, which was a shame because there was rather a lot of it. Though likely not much more in this case. He was torn between remaining here at his home, where he knew everyone could find him, and taking up some kind of permanent post at the Keep, at least until all was said and done. He held no delusions of being able to stave off the Qunari army with what remnants of the City Guard had not abandoned their posts and commissions in recent hours, but… he supposed if the Templars too could be mustered, there might be a chance, depending on how well the strategy could be executed. Unfortunately, he understood well that there was very little chance of uniting those disparate bodies, much less beneath someone with as little authority as he.

And the authority that might have sufficed was in no position to be organizing defenses at this point in time. He could blame neither Marlowe nor Sophia for that, not given all they had lost, but the knowledge of how much danger they were in was eating at him, like the acid mixtures he’d seen Rilien use to wear away at plate mail. Lucien was not a religious man—he never had been. But at times like this, he rather wished he were, because perhaps it would mean something to him, give him some assurance, to be able to put trust somewhere else, to believe without evidence that it would work out for the better. Then again… perhaps it didn’t really suit him at all. So instead, he simply waited, trying to weather that gnawing feeling like he would weather any other kind of pain, to little success. He could not wish the moment he would need to act were sooner, but he could not wish that the waiting be prolonged, either.

When the knock at his door came, his heart jumped for a moment into his throat. Surely it would not be now, would it? But when he opened the door, it was to see someone he had expected to see perhaps less than a rampaging troop of Qunari on his doorstep. “Sophia?” He blinked down at her, clearly surprised to see her, though not displeased, if his tentative smile was anything to go by. He was aware that she was likely still in a poor state, and indeed the signs were there to be read underneath the care she’d managed to take with herself. It hurt, to see that, with the familiar ache of someone dear in pain. There was really only one question to be asked.

“What can I do for you?”

"I need your help," she replied, her voice a little quieter than usual. "I'm going to the Qunari compound. Someone has to try and retrieve the criminals the Arishok is sheltering... and I need to convince him to stay his hand. It might be too late, but to do nothing would be to invite death." She had already done too much of nothing, regardless of how good her excuse was.

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Lucien said simply. He left the doorframe for a moment, heading back into his house to retrieve what looked to be a halberd from the back room. He informed his houseguests in quiet tones not to expect him back before nightfall. By now they knew that if anything happened, they needed to hide in the saferoom he’d had built into one of the walls. He’d sacrificed a space for clothing, but a trunk was sufficient anyway. Strapping the weapon into place on his back, he slid a spare knife into his boot and headed back out the door, pulling his door shut behind him.

The first stop, it was agreed, would be the clinic. The walk itself was short and mostly silent, though he did ask the guards to remain outside the clinic. His earlier visit had served to inform him that it was not Nostariel alone who was present, and he did not know how the situation would look now. There was no reason to invite more potential trouble than necessary, after all. He actually knocked, given that the place was technically closed, and it was Amalia rather than Nostariel who answered. She looked from himself to Sophia, then shook her head faintly and stepped aside, allowing both entrance without so much as a word.

There were a few cots set out, one of them occupied, and Nostariel herself was slumped against the counter, looking only half-awake. In fact, Amalia seemed the most alert of anyone there, given Ashton’s uncomfortable-looking sprawl in an armchair. They really did look like they’d been through the gauntlet.

While it was true that she was half-asleep, the presence of new people was not entirely lost upon Nostariel, and she straightened in her stool, rubbing slightly at her eyes. What had she—? Oh right, she’d been trying to take inventory of her potions. Rilien was supposed to come by with more today, but given everything that was going on, she felt it would be unwise to count on that. There was another lyrium restorative by her hand, and she uncorked it with a soft pop. “Lucien, Sophia? What’s going on?”

While Sophia explained the situation, Nostariel knocked back the restorative, feeling the kick almost immediately. From the sounds of things, she was going to need it—and probably a few more. This was going to wreak havoc on her system, and her magic would probably be out of sorts for days after she stopped taking them, but it looked like she wouldn’t be stopping until the Qunari mess was done, one way or another. At the request for her assistance, she glanced around at her patients, all in various stages of repair. “I… yes, I’ll help. Just… if I can have a few minutes, I need to…” She gestured vaguely to encapsulate the obvious injury surrounding her.

Starting with Ithilian, since he was still the worst, she gave him as much healing as she thought either of their bodies could tolerate, then moved on to Ashton. Amalia declined, which Nostariel was secretly grateful for. Taking a leather bandoleer off a hook in the back of the clinic, she loaded it with more potions and slung it over her shoulder, taking her bow and quiver down and situating those as well. At this point, it would probably be more offensive to the Arishok if they didn’t come armed to the teeth, so she felt little reservation about this.

“Okay, well… any advice before we go, Amalia?”

Amalia turned her head towards Nostariel, and Lucien wondered where the scabbing cut on her face had come from. Like his own, he imagined it would scar quite apparently. Still, that was definitely a question for another time. “You will not succeed,” Amalia said in reply to the inquiry. Her voice was softer than usual, and did not carry far, even in the small space they all occupied. “The Arishok must fulfill a demand of the Qun, and he has chosen the most expedient path now that patience has failed him.”

Lucien sighed through his nose. “But what demand is it? If he were here just to conquer, he would have moved much sooner than this.” As military strategy, waiting around this long made no sense, and Amalia herself was testament to the fact that the Qunari were nothing if not logical. “Why attack at all, if not to conquer?”

Amalia was oddly surprised the question had not been asked sooner. Then again, perhaps those who dealt with the Arishok simply assumed he would volunteer all the relevant details. Such was not always the way of the Qunari—some things must be asked. And that was the question. “He has lost that which must be retrieved at all costs. From his care was stolen the original copy of the Tome of Koslun. It is the single most venerated artifact the Qunari possess. And he allowed it to be stolen from underneath his nose. Until it is returned, he is denied Par Vollen, and his Antaam with him. It was taken just off the coast of Kirkwall, and there is every reason to believe it is here.”

“Did you say it was a book?” Nostariel’s tone was perhaps surprisingly urgent. “Because… I might know who has it, actually. Um…” The Warden hurried across the room, putting a hand on Ashton’s shoulder, shaking as gently as she could and still have a chance at waking him. “Ash, Ash, wake up. This is important, I’m sorry.” She’d rather not wake him at all, but they had so little time now, in all likelihood.

As soon as he looked awake enough to register words properly, she spoke again. “Ash, do you remember that book we found, on the ship? The one with the Qunari writing in it? Do you still have it? It might be very important.” What were the chances that they’d run across the very same artifact that the Arishok had been searching for all this time? Probably about the same as the chances that they’d run across some other Qunari book in a pile of stolen loot on a smuggling ship.

Ashton's eyelids snapped open wide but they lacked immediate understanding. Completely unaware of the dire mood everyone seemed to be in, he let a long drawn out yawn escape and proceeded to straighten his back accompanied by the sound of his vertebrae popping back into place. "The book? What..." He trailed off as he realized that they were joined by Lucien and Sophia, and by the fact that nearly everyone was staring directly at him. He paused only for a moment, meeting some of their eyes before looking back to Nostariel.

It was then he felt the full brunt of the serious atmosphere. If Sophia was here... Then something important was about to happen. He straightened out in his chair and leaned forward, throwing himself into deep thought. "The book... The book..." He repeated, urging himself to remember where he had it last. "It's at home, upstairs from my shop," He said, nodding. He went nowhere else with it, nor even knew exactly where it was-- but it was at home. That much he was certain. Again, his gaze flickered from person to person until it realighted back to Nostariel.

"Why?" He asked tentatively. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like the answer.

"It might be the key to getting the Arishok and his soldiers to leave the city," Sophia explained quickly, and for the first time since her brother had been slain she was showing signs of life. The revelation that it was a simple book the Qunari were here for, and that Ashton may have it in his possession, had injected her with a great deal of energy. Later, she could be upset at how the Qunari had caused so much trouble over a single lost tome, and how they had refused to ask for any help in recovering it, but for now, she had latched onto the idea of just recovering the thing, and getting them to leave. They could make it out of this yet, if they hurried.

"The book?" Ashton asked in confusion. The book that he had could send the Qunari home? Had her expression not been so serious, Ashton would've brushed it off as a joke, but there wasn't any humor in her voice, nor anywhere else. The attitude was serious and dire, and he could feel the importance. But if he had the book, the key as Sophia had called it... It sat in his shop for countless weeks forgotten. The guilt didn't hit immediately, but it began to drip in. He leaned back against the chair, letting the back of his neck fall against the chair. He hid his face with his hands, cursing himself for being such a fool look like he was simply trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. No... he was quite awake now.

He lurched forward and rose from the chair, going toward where he'd left his bow and arrow, as well as the guard's sword instead of his machete. "Let's hurry, while we can still salvage this," He urged, though his tone sounded more defeated than his words led to believe.

Rilien shifted the crate in his hands slightly, the glass bottles therein clinking faintly against one another. They were padded with layers of linen, but not so thoroughly that they would all hold if he dropped the object. Fortunately, he was more than strong enough to carry it, and it was rather difficult to startle him into dropping anything. Beside him walked Sparrow, no doubt enlivened somewhat by the prospect of going to visit Ashton, whose shop was on the way to the clinic at which he would be making his scheduled delivery. He at least was studiously ignoring the discomfort that hung between them in favor of attempting to return them to their equilibrium, but the longer passed since their… discussion, the less he believed she would simply allow that. Whatever the case, neither was speaking of it now, and he was admittedly at a considerable advantage when it came to acting as though little had changed.

Of course, all plans for delivery were somewhat waylaid when the pair approached the Dragon's Hideout—a name which Rilien believed required some reconsideration, though he had thus far refrained from mentioning as much. Regardless of Ashton’s aptitude for titles, the store itself bore the characteristic signs of theft, and a hasty theft at that. The Tranquil’s expression did not change, of course, but he diverted his path from the road to the storefront, setting the crate down off to one side of the door.

The door hinge was broken, indicating that those entering hardly cared for whether they were seen, which implied that whatever was taken was of enough importance to risk capture. Inside, everything had been turned over and much of it was on the floor. The mess led up the stairs as well, indicating that what they were after did not appear to have been located in the storefront, suggesting an item of a more personal nature, rather than one associated with Ashton’s craft. As far as Rilien could tell from the window, nothing was missing, which meant either they hadn’t found what they were searching for or it was found upstairs instead.

Before he could enter to investigate further, however, a large party of people, including Lucien and Ashton himself, as well as the Warden, Sparrow’s Qunari friend, and the Viscount’s daughter. "Ashton.” The Tranquil’s voice betrayed nothing. "It would appear that you have been robbed.”

"Robbed?" Ashton asked, "What are you... Oh no." His question was answered before it was even asked, all it took was a look toward his broken door. The hinge was torn from the frame leaving the slab of wood that served as his entrance lazily swinging back and forth. He took his first steps tentatively toward the entrance, afraid of what he might find inside. Or perhaps, what he wouldn't find. "Oh Andraste," He said rubbing his face in exhaustion. He couldn't shake the feeling that she was playing some cruel joke on him now. Then his eyes snapped back as realization struck. The book wasn't the only thing of value in his shop. "Snuffy!" He exclaimed and dove into his shop.

He paid no mind to the wreck on the bottom floor, scanning it for Snuffy and Snuffy alone. When that search bore no fruit, he ran to the stairs and took them two at time. The mess in the room he slept in was worse than what was on the ground floor. His dresser was flung open wide, clothing strewn across the floor. His mattress was flipped from its bed-frame, leaning against the nearby wall with the frame itself broken in half. The bookshelf was face down on the floor, with its books and pages scattered nearby. All of his etchings and carvings were either broken or likewise discarded, but none of that mattered.

Snuffy was found laying against the wall under the far side window. Ashton stepped over the mayhem to reach her and found himself relieved to still see the steady rise and fall of her chest. At the soft touch of Ashton, she turned and faced him, her long face mirroring his. Flakes of blood were already drying in her mouth and fur-- and not all of it hers. Another scan revealed drops of blood near his desk, its empty drawer opened wide. "Dammit," He cursed, understanding what it meant. His attentions returned to Snuffy, gently stroking her side. He searched for any injuries she may have had, which were fortunately few. "You tried your hardest. You're going to be fine, Princess. Just fine," He said, reassuring himself more than her. Like him, she'd just have a few bruises-- perhaps more, before this was all over.

Sophia entered the shop not long after Ashton, though she scanned it a little more closely, looking for any sign of the book on the bottom floor. She hoped whoever did this had not killed Ashton's dog, yes, but with the entire city on the line, she needed to focus on this book. It was nowhere to be found, however, and soon she was trailing after Ashton, finding him over the form of the mabari hound, who was thankfully still alive. She glanced around for the book, but it didn't appear to be up here, either. Anxiety immediately began to set in, thinking about what they would do without this book. They were losing time...

"They took the book, then? Whoever did this?" It wasn't really a question, as it was obvious that the thieves had taken little else. "They can't have gone far. Do you think they could be tracked down?"

Now leaning against the same wall that Snuffy was, Ashton nodded in the affirmative. Pointing toward the open desk drawer, he spoke, "Yeah. It was in there." Was being the key word. As for if they could be tracked... "I... Don't know," He admitted. Ashton was a good tracker, perhaps bested only by the Dalish. But tracking in the woods and in the city was two different world. He could follow broken twigs, disturbed leaves, and footprints in the woods. There were no such things in the city, the best being a fine layer of dust on hard, packed in ground. Even then, the thieves' feet wouldn't be the only prints to be found. Hundreds of people walked the streets every day. Ashton didn't like their odds and it frustrated him.

A pound echoed throughout the shop as Ashton hammered the wall with a fist. Why, he asked himself. "It'd be near impossible to find any kind of trail," He admitted, shaking his head. A wet sensation happened upon his elbow, and he looked down to see Snuffy pushing her head under his arm and into his lap.

He began to caress her head as she rested. Ashton had never been a man taken to flights of rage, but his frustrations were nearing a boil. Why could nothing ever work out, he thought. He found himself staring at Snuffy's nose when an idea struck. His head jerked up and looked back at the blood stains. Next to it was a piece of ripped clothing, a pant leg most likely torn off during Snuffy's attack. "Wait." he said, gently moving Snuffy's head and picking the shreds up.

Energy came rushing back as he spun back around and hovered over Snuffy. "I need a potion," He urged desperately. "I'm sorry Princess, but looks like we're going to need your help. At least you'll get a chance to take the bastard's leg this time." Snuffy's ears pricked up that, and she began to leech off of his energy barking as he spoke. "I can't track them, but she can," Ashton explained, showing Sophia the scrap of clothing, "I've been training her."

Potions were easy enough to come by at the moment, and Rilien reached into the crate, withdrawing three and handing them all to Ashton. One was for the dog—the other two were for whatever happened to come next.

Ashton slipped the pair of potions into a fold in his shirt, unstopping the other and put it up to Snuffy's mouth. "It tastes like dirt, but it'll make you feel better. Come on Princess, we need you," Ashton urged. Snuffy's immediate response was to whine lowly and stare at him with her long eyes. Ashton would not budge, and soon she relented and let him turn the vial up into her mouth. She coughed loudly and shook her head, but otherwise took the potion well. Eventually she found she found the strength to stand on her front legs and give Ashton a grateful lick across the face. "That's my girl," He said proudly, giving her head a rub.

Nostariel, on the other hand, chewed her lip and shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “I’m not sure we have much time.” Glancing between the others, she shook her head slightly. “I think it might be wisest to split ourselves. Some of us should track the thieves down, and perhaps the rest ought to inform the Arishok that his book is close at hand—hopefully stop the madness before it has the opportunity to begin.” Though it was arguable that it had started long ago. Perhaps they would be able to prevent the worst of it, regardless. She had little desire to be pulling bodies out of wreckage in the coming months.

It was a knee-jerk reflex that pushed Amalia to immediately track down the book as well. The way they spoke of it, they did not truly understand its meaning, and though perhaps she was still lingering in some threshold place between Qunari and not-Qunari, she could never for a moment doubt what the Tome of Koslun meant to her. The ideas within it had saved her life on more than one occasion, and the actual artifact was something she had seen only once.

But there was more then one reflex to contend with now, and her other one was perhaps something that nobody else here could spare the time and energy to do—something that she was no longer that surprised to find she held to be of equal importance. “The hound will track better even than I can, through this,” she admitted, then shook her head slightly. “And my words are not the ones that can stop the Arishok now. Perhaps none are, but yours have a better chance than most.” she spoke mostly to Lucien and Sophia, knowing as she did the extent of their interactions with him. Still, it seemed unlikely that the Viscount’s daughter at least would be able to sway him—here was a case where her station would serve her ill. Whether he would be any more inclined to listen to the other was something she did not know, and would not bother to speculate about.

“I am returning to the Alienage. When it comes to battle, they are unable to defend themselves.” Not with so many of their young and able-bodied converted to the Qun. Besides, it was still imperative to find and secure Lia, something Ithilian was going to need help with.

Glancing between all of those present, she inclined her head. “Farewell. I hope you do not die.”

She departed then, though not exactly back to the Alienage the short way. There was one more person she needed to find first, someone she desired to keep safe from that which would surely follow.

Lucien watched her depart, then turned back to the others. “Sophia and I should probably try our luck with the Arishok.” They wouldn’t be a whole lot of use in tracking, anyway. Lucien knew only the bare rudiments of it, and he doubted Sophia was any more of an expert than he was. Besides, they’d dealt the most with the Qunari, and it only seemed wise to give themselves the best chance they could have. “In case we don’t get through to him… Nostariel, would you come with us?” He knew he could very well be asking her to die, given the gravity of the situation, but it was also true that with her present, they all stood the best chance to live if things went poorly. Her abilities were good for use on large numbers, and her healing might just save their skins. He suspected that the crate full of Rilien’s potions would have to suffice for the other group. It was far from the ideal situation for any of them, but it was the best way he could think to divide them.

If Rilien were the sort to be easily-stirred by such matters, he might have managed to be a little offended that Lucien would rather take the Warden into danger than him, but as it were, he easily recognized the logic in it, and though perhaps he was still more comfortable facing death beside the Chevalier than anyone else, he wasn’t precisely uncomfortable with it in any capacity, and would serve more use hunting those who were not well seen than those who were blatantly obvious. Examining the crate at his side for a moment, he provided several tinctures each to Sophia, Lucien, and Nostariel before setting about the task of partitioning out the rest into various pouches, loops, and pockets in both obvious and subtle places on his own person.

For her part, Nostariel accepted hers gratefully, then turned to Lucien. She knew what he was asking as well as he did, and though it brought her no joy to admit how long their odds were, she could not fail to acknowledge the reality of the situation. This was grim—and there was little hope to spare—but they would all do what they had to do to give each other the best shot at meeting again tomorrow. It was all they could do. “I’ll go.”

"So... We're splitting then?" Ashton asked, though he already knew the answer. It made the most sense, to split and have people try to contain the coming wildfire. It didn't mean he had to be happy about it. Looking between Rilien and Sparrow, he nodded and added, "Then you two are with me." Rilien and Sparrow he could trust to see their recovery to the end, if anyone had a chance of retrieving the book and getting it back to the Arishok in time, it was them. He stood and lead the groups outside his shop, where they split off into their groups.

Ashton watched as Nostariel's group began to depart before he felt a pinch in his chest. He wouldn't lie to himself, what they had in mind had low odds, if they had any chance to begin with. Danger loomed like a dark cloud over their heads, and it made him anxious and nervous in equal parts. There was a very real chance that he wouldn't be able to see tomorrow. A lot things could happen between then and there. But that didn't scare him the most. No, there were thoughts that were more frightening. He watched Nostariel's blonde hair as the distance between them grew. Well, if they didn't make it, then he'd have no regrets.

"Nostariel wait," He called, pressing the scrap of bloody cloth into Rilien's hand. He crossed the distance between them like he was sliding across ice and when he reached her, his fingers went to her face and pulled her in. No more regrets he told himself as he pressed his lips against hers.

"Come back to me safe, Nos?" He asked, pressing his forehead against hers.

Well.

That was making it considerably harder to leave. And to think, for that matter. For a few seconds, Nostariel could only smile, the urgency of the situation peripheral at best, and she was certain she looked quite the proper fool, holding his hands to the side of her face like that, her fingers slotted absently into the spaces between his and curled faintly around. The moment was warm, and she wanted to savor it, to speak even, tell him everything that was on her mind, everything she’d been putting off saying because she lacked the courage.

But she couldn’t. Not right in this moment. So when her lips parted, she managed only one thing: “I promise.” She had no idea if she’d be able to keep it, but in making the promise, she was giving herself one more reason to try. As though there weren’t enough already. “Be careful, Ash.” Gently, she dropped her hands and stepped away, nodding slightly before mustering the will to take a few steps backwards and then turn around, hurrying after Lucien and Sophia.

Snippet #2512861

located in Kirkwall, a part of The City of Chains, one of the many universes on RPG.

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