Lucien stroked the neck of his horse absently, the creatureâs silvery coat smooth beneath his gauntlets. His face was set into a neutral expression, carefully so, but there was a barely-perceptible tension in the lines of his shoulders and limbs. He and about ten other Lions were fully armed, armored, and ready to depart on horseback or on foot, depending on what word came back to them, should any word do so at all. He was doing his best to be at ease, because he knew that the others, consciously or not, would pick up on his mood if he wasnât careful about it. He was deeply worried, for Sophia and for the two he had sent with her, but he knew there was little point in stewing in it. So heâd kept himself busy with the preparations.
At present, he stood near Ashton and Estella, who along with several of the younger Lions, had insisted on being part of the reserve. Lia and Tessa were good friends of theirs, after all, and he would not deny them the chance to feel more useful while waiting for some word or another. The young woman had her arms crossed just below her chest, and was chewing her lip rather more actively than he believed she was aware.
âItâs been too long,â she said, glancing up at the sunâs position in the sky. Lucien found that he agreedâheâd given them enough time to return by now, and none of them had. Not Sophia, but also not Lia. That could either mean that nothing was wrong, or that everything was.
âIt has.â He turned to Ashton, who was pacing back and forth. For present purposes, heâd been loaned a horse as well. âAshton, I donât like this. Can you run and get Nostariel? We may need her.â Idris was a good healer, but he had no magic at his disposal.
"Let's hope not," Ashton said. He stopped his pacing and moved toward the horse he'd been loaned. Time was of the essence, and if they were to move, he would like to move as quick as he possibly could. He'd rather not waste time walking to get Nos when he could ride. "I'll be back in a moment," Ashton told him, mounting the horse in a single smooth motion. He pulled on the reins to angle the horse toward the city, but something caught his gaze that caused him to pause.
A hooded figure approached, clearly making their way toward them. Ashton's hand went to the sword at his waist out of reaction, though further inspection proved the action unnecessary. The figure struggled to walk, and the cloak he wore was damp with something. It wasn't until a drop of crimson splashed on the ground under him did Ashton realize it was blood. Still, even bleeding and injured he didn't lower his guard. "Halt," Ashton ordered, blocking his path with his horse. "Who are you?" He demanded to know.
The injured man pulled back his hood, revealing a face that Ashton would only be able to recognize through descriptions that Sophia had provided him with. One gloved hand clutched a bleeding wound in his side, and his features were spattered with it as well. A two-handed sword about the length and size of Sophia's rested across his back, though he did not look to be in any position to draw it.
"Dairren Quinn," he managed. "I've... made a grave misjudgement." He said no more, however, instead collapsing to the ground before Ashton, and slipping out of consciousness.
Nostariel worked steadily on Quinnâs injuries, her pace as brisk and efficient as it ever was, though the shadows beneath her eyes were dark. The healer wore not a trace of her Warden armor, and only the lightest of her leathers, because there hadnât been any time to prepare when Ash showed up at the clinic, and not for the reason sheâd been hoping. Theyâd caught her up on the goings-on, and the way she figured it, Quinn was likely to have information that they needed, though sheâd have healed him anyway, since it was largely against her principles not to.
A few of them were clustered in the side room she was using, her patient laid out on an upholstered table, covered in something water-resistant. The wound wasnât negligible, but it wasnât fatal, considering her skills and abilities. She took a second to tip back a potion when sheâd finished with the deep-tissue work, repairing blood vessels and the like, and after that, sealing his skin over was a relatively simple matter.
âHe should wake soon, I think.â It wasnât always a sure thing, of course, but sheâd done the necessary mending. That was usually all that was required. She certainly hoped he would.
Lucien was leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed mostly so he wouldnât give into the urge to move them. His jaw was tight, his posture rigid, and his eyes didnât leave the unmoving figure of Dairren Quinn. His head was nearly spinning with questions, things he wanted to ask or demand, but he knew that if it came down to it, there was only one he really cared about at the moment. âThank you, Nostariel,â he murmured, the utterance more habit than consciously decided. He hadnât lost his calm or his manners to his anxietyâyet.
âWhen he does⊠Ashton, you know more about this situation than any of us. If you would not mind handling the questions?â It was only logical, though it was difficult in this particular case for Lucien to leave matters to someone else, even if that someone was a friend. But he reminded himself that he trusted Ashton, and trusted his ability and his sense of urgency both.
Ashton looked up from his chair and nodded, though he added, "He's unlikely to say anything he doesn't want to, even in his condition. I know his type, they don't give anything up they don't want to." Even though, Ashton drew his sword from its sheath and placed it tip down in front of him, moving to lean on it. An intimidation tactic, one that he figured would have little effect on Quinn, but nonetheless it was worth an attempt. Even so, Ashton continued to speak to Lucien, "But he wouldn't be here if there wasn't something he wanted to say." With that, Ashton turned back toward Quinn and waited for him to wake up.
He did so in short order, letting out a groan a few moments after Ashton fell silent. His eyes opened, dark brown in color, and he tilted his head about, getting his bearings in the room. They lingered on his weapons, taken from him and piled in the corner next to Lucien, before moving to his rescuers, and captors. "Thank you for the healing," he murmured to Nostariel. Wincing, he sat himself up on the table.
"Sophia... she'll have been taken captive by now. If you sent people to shadow her... probably dead. I don't know what they want with her. I was a fool, thought I could control them a little longer." He moved to stand up, and found Nostariel attempting to support him. "Thank you, I'm fine. We need to move quickly, a small group. I know where they're going to hold her, and I know a way to get her out cleanly."
Ashton's grip on his sword tightened as Quinn tried to stand. "I'll prefer it," Ashton interjected with authority, "If you just sat instead." Time was of the essence, he knew this, but that was no excuse to drop his guard. He was not about to let go of his caution, not until he was sure that Quinn meant them no harm, and was indeed earnest in his desire to help them.
"Let's start with some answers instead, yeah? I'm not going anywhere without them," and there was no doubt in his mind that he was going this time. "The obvious ones first. What happened? Where's Sophia? Who's taken her? We need to know as much as you can tell us." Ashton watched the man intently, searching his face and body language for any indication that what he told him was anything but the truth.
Dairren appeared impatient with the questions, but he complied, returning to a seated position, and folding his hands together where the new guard captain could see them. "Sophia's likely in a cave formation on the Wounded Coast, near where that fool was leading her to me. I was supposed to be there, but the Coterie... I could only dupe them for so long. They grew tired of me, saw the opportunity, and didn't believe I would take it. They were right. I know not who leads them now, or what they want with her. It doesn't matter. We will retrieve her."
He gestured to the wound on his side. "They likely think I'm dead, or too injured to be a threat. I know a way into that cave system the Coterie isn't aware of. They weren't the first to use it. If we attack from the front, with your full strength, they may well just kill her. We can't risk that. We need to get inside quietly, and get out quick."
"Is there any reassurances you can give us that this isn't just a trap?" Ashton said stoically.
âWhat difference would it make?â Lucien spoke up at last. The best thing Quinn could give them to that effect was words, and those were already implied. The Lionsâ Commander found it difficult to care. âWe have no better option than going where he leads, and so thatâs where weâre going.â His tone was unusually curt, but he didnât even seem to notice. Meeting eyes with the roomâs fifth and final occupant, he nodded. âI want Cor, Donnelly, Estella, and you. Tell everyone else to stand by. Idris is in charge.â Havard nodded and exited the room quickly, to convey the orders.
Reaching down to the gear heâd piled beside him, Lucien hefted most of it in one hand, the hand-and-a-half alone resting in the other. This, he handed to Quinn, hilt-first. It was of a similar construction to Vesenia, and an icy spike of fear lanced him at the reminder. Theyâd wasted too much time already.
âDonât make me regret this.â He wasnât a man for elaborate threats or intimidation at all, really, and the words, such as they were, didnât quite count as either. If it hadnât been an imperative, it might have counted as a simple statement of fact.
Ashton exhaled loudly through his nostrils. He wasn't overly enthused with trusting the man who'd been a shadow for the better part of Sophia's life, but made no voice to try and dissuade Lucien from his course. He had a feeling anything that he could say wouldn't matter, and that there would be no stopping him either way. Still, Ashton would've liked to wring a little more information from Quinn before they set off, though it looked like that wasn't happening. Instead he stood and sheathed his sword, and gave Quinn a long stare.
"Be careful," he said, before turning to Lucien, "We can't help her if we're dead."
Sophia was mostly in a daze while she was hauled off by the Coterie, only glancing back once to watch them carry off Tessa's body along with all the others they had slain before succumbing. They wouldn't burn the bodies, as they couldn't afford making a smoke signal giving them away. They wouldn't take long burying them, either, not with the imminent counter-attack coming. They were smart enough to know by now that abducting Sophia Dumar, and murdering a member of the Argent Lions would not go without an answer.
Which meant Tessa would likely lie in a shallow grave, surrounded by dead Coterie thugs. Sophia could not help feeling shame for the result, which seemed so obvious. And yet the choice had been irresistible, a chance to finally put her mind at peace by seeing this man who claimed to be her father. She didn't know for sure that he had betrayed her, for she had not met him here, only Miranda. She'd already known Miranda was wicked, and willing to do a great many things to restore her family's power. This, however, she would not have predicted.
By the time Sophia thought to pay attention to her surroundings, she had already entered the darkness of a cave system. It was clearly a mine of some kind, likely from the days when magisters still ruled over Kirkwall. No one had worked it in many years, but the hollowed out structure of the place still held, serving as a fairly defensible base for the Coterie here. The criminals seemed to know which way they were going, taking several twists and turns through hallways of varying widths and lengths, leading her deep into the earth.
Eventually they arrived in a small room, entirely empty save for two support beams situated away from the walls. After warning her not to struggle, Sophia was untied, and forcefully stripped of her armor, leaving her feeling naked, though she still wore breeches and a tunic. The dirt felt cold and wet between her toes. Forced to sit, her hands were pulled behind her back around a support beam, and tied back together. The thugs proceeded to carry her equipment out of the room, a few remaining with Miranda. Jamie was tied to the other post, silent as ever.
"You're probably not feeling terribly warm towards me at the moment," Miranda said, settling down on her knees in front of Sophia, and leaning back on her heels. "That's understandable. You were expecting a family reunion. You may still have a chance for that, provided you cooperate, and provided Quill doesn't do anything dumber than I expect him to."
"Did he betray me to you?" Sophia felt miserable for even conversing with the woman, but she'd brought up Dairren, and she couldn't help the curiosity. Part of her wanted Miranda to say yes, if only to confirm that the man was as evil as she wanted him to be.
"Quill? Oh, no. From what I understand, he's quite enamored with you. Still, not the shining knight he'd have you believe." Sophia wasn't sure the man she knew would ever have referred to himself as a shining knight with a straight face, but then, she didn't expect Miranda to know the man well at all. "In fact, it may surprise you to know that Quill actually believes everything to be going according to plan. How amusing it is, when the king places himself into checkmate."
The conflicting statements clashed like charging lines in Sophia's mind, and the confusion must have shown on her face, as it pulled another smile from Miranda. Neither woman said any more on the subject, however. Sophia assumed she simply couldn't trust anything Miranda told her about anyone else, and she suspected the woman was much more interested in talking about herself regardless. "So what do you want from me? You said you needed my cooperation."
"It will require some effort on your part, yes, but I'm sure that this can be relatively painless for us both if we work together. Well, from here on out, that is. I've noticed that you've begun pushing back against Meredith, reminding the people that she was never meant to rule this city." She leaned forward, putting a hand on each of Sophia's shoulders, though she maintained an arm's length distance. "You know she shouldn't remain in power, but you don't want to seize that power for yourself. You want other things. The way I see it, I can free you to pursue those other things." Sophia refused to break the gaze that the two women shared, wondering just what crazed plan she had in mind.
"With your help, I believe that the family meant to rule Kirkwall can return to power. The family that ruled it long before your father ever stumbled onto that throne."
"And why would I help you? Why would I want you in power instead?"
"Don't you worry about that. Your motivation should be well on their way by now."
At present, he stood near Ashton and Estella, who along with several of the younger Lions, had insisted on being part of the reserve. Lia and Tessa were good friends of theirs, after all, and he would not deny them the chance to feel more useful while waiting for some word or another. The young woman had her arms crossed just below her chest, and was chewing her lip rather more actively than he believed she was aware.
âItâs been too long,â she said, glancing up at the sunâs position in the sky. Lucien found that he agreedâheâd given them enough time to return by now, and none of them had. Not Sophia, but also not Lia. That could either mean that nothing was wrong, or that everything was.
âIt has.â He turned to Ashton, who was pacing back and forth. For present purposes, heâd been loaned a horse as well. âAshton, I donât like this. Can you run and get Nostariel? We may need her.â Idris was a good healer, but he had no magic at his disposal.
"Let's hope not," Ashton said. He stopped his pacing and moved toward the horse he'd been loaned. Time was of the essence, and if they were to move, he would like to move as quick as he possibly could. He'd rather not waste time walking to get Nos when he could ride. "I'll be back in a moment," Ashton told him, mounting the horse in a single smooth motion. He pulled on the reins to angle the horse toward the city, but something caught his gaze that caused him to pause.
A hooded figure approached, clearly making their way toward them. Ashton's hand went to the sword at his waist out of reaction, though further inspection proved the action unnecessary. The figure struggled to walk, and the cloak he wore was damp with something. It wasn't until a drop of crimson splashed on the ground under him did Ashton realize it was blood. Still, even bleeding and injured he didn't lower his guard. "Halt," Ashton ordered, blocking his path with his horse. "Who are you?" He demanded to know.
The injured man pulled back his hood, revealing a face that Ashton would only be able to recognize through descriptions that Sophia had provided him with. One gloved hand clutched a bleeding wound in his side, and his features were spattered with it as well. A two-handed sword about the length and size of Sophia's rested across his back, though he did not look to be in any position to draw it.
"Dairren Quinn," he managed. "I've... made a grave misjudgement." He said no more, however, instead collapsing to the ground before Ashton, and slipping out of consciousness.
Nostariel worked steadily on Quinnâs injuries, her pace as brisk and efficient as it ever was, though the shadows beneath her eyes were dark. The healer wore not a trace of her Warden armor, and only the lightest of her leathers, because there hadnât been any time to prepare when Ash showed up at the clinic, and not for the reason sheâd been hoping. Theyâd caught her up on the goings-on, and the way she figured it, Quinn was likely to have information that they needed, though sheâd have healed him anyway, since it was largely against her principles not to.
A few of them were clustered in the side room she was using, her patient laid out on an upholstered table, covered in something water-resistant. The wound wasnât negligible, but it wasnât fatal, considering her skills and abilities. She took a second to tip back a potion when sheâd finished with the deep-tissue work, repairing blood vessels and the like, and after that, sealing his skin over was a relatively simple matter.
âHe should wake soon, I think.â It wasnât always a sure thing, of course, but sheâd done the necessary mending. That was usually all that was required. She certainly hoped he would.
Lucien was leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed mostly so he wouldnât give into the urge to move them. His jaw was tight, his posture rigid, and his eyes didnât leave the unmoving figure of Dairren Quinn. His head was nearly spinning with questions, things he wanted to ask or demand, but he knew that if it came down to it, there was only one he really cared about at the moment. âThank you, Nostariel,â he murmured, the utterance more habit than consciously decided. He hadnât lost his calm or his manners to his anxietyâyet.
âWhen he does⊠Ashton, you know more about this situation than any of us. If you would not mind handling the questions?â It was only logical, though it was difficult in this particular case for Lucien to leave matters to someone else, even if that someone was a friend. But he reminded himself that he trusted Ashton, and trusted his ability and his sense of urgency both.
Ashton looked up from his chair and nodded, though he added, "He's unlikely to say anything he doesn't want to, even in his condition. I know his type, they don't give anything up they don't want to." Even though, Ashton drew his sword from its sheath and placed it tip down in front of him, moving to lean on it. An intimidation tactic, one that he figured would have little effect on Quinn, but nonetheless it was worth an attempt. Even so, Ashton continued to speak to Lucien, "But he wouldn't be here if there wasn't something he wanted to say." With that, Ashton turned back toward Quinn and waited for him to wake up.
He did so in short order, letting out a groan a few moments after Ashton fell silent. His eyes opened, dark brown in color, and he tilted his head about, getting his bearings in the room. They lingered on his weapons, taken from him and piled in the corner next to Lucien, before moving to his rescuers, and captors. "Thank you for the healing," he murmured to Nostariel. Wincing, he sat himself up on the table.
"Sophia... she'll have been taken captive by now. If you sent people to shadow her... probably dead. I don't know what they want with her. I was a fool, thought I could control them a little longer." He moved to stand up, and found Nostariel attempting to support him. "Thank you, I'm fine. We need to move quickly, a small group. I know where they're going to hold her, and I know a way to get her out cleanly."
Ashton's grip on his sword tightened as Quinn tried to stand. "I'll prefer it," Ashton interjected with authority, "If you just sat instead." Time was of the essence, he knew this, but that was no excuse to drop his guard. He was not about to let go of his caution, not until he was sure that Quinn meant them no harm, and was indeed earnest in his desire to help them.
"Let's start with some answers instead, yeah? I'm not going anywhere without them," and there was no doubt in his mind that he was going this time. "The obvious ones first. What happened? Where's Sophia? Who's taken her? We need to know as much as you can tell us." Ashton watched the man intently, searching his face and body language for any indication that what he told him was anything but the truth.
Dairren appeared impatient with the questions, but he complied, returning to a seated position, and folding his hands together where the new guard captain could see them. "Sophia's likely in a cave formation on the Wounded Coast, near where that fool was leading her to me. I was supposed to be there, but the Coterie... I could only dupe them for so long. They grew tired of me, saw the opportunity, and didn't believe I would take it. They were right. I know not who leads them now, or what they want with her. It doesn't matter. We will retrieve her."
He gestured to the wound on his side. "They likely think I'm dead, or too injured to be a threat. I know a way into that cave system the Coterie isn't aware of. They weren't the first to use it. If we attack from the front, with your full strength, they may well just kill her. We can't risk that. We need to get inside quietly, and get out quick."
"Is there any reassurances you can give us that this isn't just a trap?" Ashton said stoically.
âWhat difference would it make?â Lucien spoke up at last. The best thing Quinn could give them to that effect was words, and those were already implied. The Lionsâ Commander found it difficult to care. âWe have no better option than going where he leads, and so thatâs where weâre going.â His tone was unusually curt, but he didnât even seem to notice. Meeting eyes with the roomâs fifth and final occupant, he nodded. âI want Cor, Donnelly, Estella, and you. Tell everyone else to stand by. Idris is in charge.â Havard nodded and exited the room quickly, to convey the orders.
Reaching down to the gear heâd piled beside him, Lucien hefted most of it in one hand, the hand-and-a-half alone resting in the other. This, he handed to Quinn, hilt-first. It was of a similar construction to Vesenia, and an icy spike of fear lanced him at the reminder. Theyâd wasted too much time already.
âDonât make me regret this.â He wasnât a man for elaborate threats or intimidation at all, really, and the words, such as they were, didnât quite count as either. If it hadnât been an imperative, it might have counted as a simple statement of fact.
Ashton exhaled loudly through his nostrils. He wasn't overly enthused with trusting the man who'd been a shadow for the better part of Sophia's life, but made no voice to try and dissuade Lucien from his course. He had a feeling anything that he could say wouldn't matter, and that there would be no stopping him either way. Still, Ashton would've liked to wring a little more information from Quinn before they set off, though it looked like that wasn't happening. Instead he stood and sheathed his sword, and gave Quinn a long stare.
"Be careful," he said, before turning to Lucien, "We can't help her if we're dead."
Sophia was mostly in a daze while she was hauled off by the Coterie, only glancing back once to watch them carry off Tessa's body along with all the others they had slain before succumbing. They wouldn't burn the bodies, as they couldn't afford making a smoke signal giving them away. They wouldn't take long burying them, either, not with the imminent counter-attack coming. They were smart enough to know by now that abducting Sophia Dumar, and murdering a member of the Argent Lions would not go without an answer.
Which meant Tessa would likely lie in a shallow grave, surrounded by dead Coterie thugs. Sophia could not help feeling shame for the result, which seemed so obvious. And yet the choice had been irresistible, a chance to finally put her mind at peace by seeing this man who claimed to be her father. She didn't know for sure that he had betrayed her, for she had not met him here, only Miranda. She'd already known Miranda was wicked, and willing to do a great many things to restore her family's power. This, however, she would not have predicted.
By the time Sophia thought to pay attention to her surroundings, she had already entered the darkness of a cave system. It was clearly a mine of some kind, likely from the days when magisters still ruled over Kirkwall. No one had worked it in many years, but the hollowed out structure of the place still held, serving as a fairly defensible base for the Coterie here. The criminals seemed to know which way they were going, taking several twists and turns through hallways of varying widths and lengths, leading her deep into the earth.
Eventually they arrived in a small room, entirely empty save for two support beams situated away from the walls. After warning her not to struggle, Sophia was untied, and forcefully stripped of her armor, leaving her feeling naked, though she still wore breeches and a tunic. The dirt felt cold and wet between her toes. Forced to sit, her hands were pulled behind her back around a support beam, and tied back together. The thugs proceeded to carry her equipment out of the room, a few remaining with Miranda. Jamie was tied to the other post, silent as ever.
"You're probably not feeling terribly warm towards me at the moment," Miranda said, settling down on her knees in front of Sophia, and leaning back on her heels. "That's understandable. You were expecting a family reunion. You may still have a chance for that, provided you cooperate, and provided Quill doesn't do anything dumber than I expect him to."
"Did he betray me to you?" Sophia felt miserable for even conversing with the woman, but she'd brought up Dairren, and she couldn't help the curiosity. Part of her wanted Miranda to say yes, if only to confirm that the man was as evil as she wanted him to be.
"Quill? Oh, no. From what I understand, he's quite enamored with you. Still, not the shining knight he'd have you believe." Sophia wasn't sure the man she knew would ever have referred to himself as a shining knight with a straight face, but then, she didn't expect Miranda to know the man well at all. "In fact, it may surprise you to know that Quill actually believes everything to be going according to plan. How amusing it is, when the king places himself into checkmate."
The conflicting statements clashed like charging lines in Sophia's mind, and the confusion must have shown on her face, as it pulled another smile from Miranda. Neither woman said any more on the subject, however. Sophia assumed she simply couldn't trust anything Miranda told her about anyone else, and she suspected the woman was much more interested in talking about herself regardless. "So what do you want from me? You said you needed my cooperation."
"It will require some effort on your part, yes, but I'm sure that this can be relatively painless for us both if we work together. Well, from here on out, that is. I've noticed that you've begun pushing back against Meredith, reminding the people that she was never meant to rule this city." She leaned forward, putting a hand on each of Sophia's shoulders, though she maintained an arm's length distance. "You know she shouldn't remain in power, but you don't want to seize that power for yourself. You want other things. The way I see it, I can free you to pursue those other things." Sophia refused to break the gaze that the two women shared, wondering just what crazed plan she had in mind.
"With your help, I believe that the family meant to rule Kirkwall can return to power. The family that ruled it long before your father ever stumbled onto that throne."
"And why would I help you? Why would I want you in power instead?"
"Don't you worry about that. Your motivation should be well on their way by now."