After everyone had taken about half an hour to clean up and get the smell of the sewers off themselves, they met up again, this time in front of Rilienās shop in Hightown. The differences in their surroundings were so different as to be almost nauseating, but to Rilienās mind, at least, the amount of perfume on the air, at least around large clusters of people, smelled almost as bad as the sewers. Still, it was in every other way significantly less troublesome, and that included the even cobblestones beneath their feet.
"The de Launcet manse is this way.ā Rilien, intimately familiar with Hightown, led the way. By this point, dusk was beginning to fall, the sky overhead growing darker, casting the pale stone most of the buildings were made of into medium greys and blues. A few merchants were closing up shop; others lit various torches and candles to illuminate what was still on offer. Down a side street, they could make out the bright, blush-colored paper lanterns that signified the boundary of the pleasure district. He led them in the opposite direction, however, turning down a few less-used, but still well-maintained, side streets, ending in a rather large courtyard shared by three different manors.
"Left. The Knight-Captain believes that Emileās parents may be harboring him, but it is a much more complicated matter to level such an accusation at a noble with status and position to wield in retaliation.ā Had he set upon this task himself, he would likely not have bothered to interrogate them at all. While he wasnāt ineffective at persuading people to part with information, it was simply easier to find it in more direct ways, and he would have chosen to sweep the house for traces of the mage son and his magic, or evidence of where he might be insteadāwithout the knowledge of the Comte and Comtesse. But they were not him, and the face-to-face approach may serve them well, since their ears were bound to be more sympathetic than his ever could be.
Crisp, clean clothes. Sparrow pinched the fabric of her loose shirt and brought it up to her nose, inhaling deeply, heedless of manners and her exposed belly button. Smelt like lavender, strangely enough. When she thought about it, all her clothes did. It sure as hell didn't come from the musty heap of shirts and trousers she kept just beside her ill-fitting rust-bucket she'd once called proper armour. She dropped her hands back down and smoothed them across the front of her shirt, eyeing the remaining people bustling in the square. People were beginning to drift back home, shutting doors and windows. The smell was noticeably stronger around these parts, but she didn't mind. Not as subtle as Aurora's flower garden, but she admitted to nuzzling a few fragrant jawlines in these very houses.
She followed beside Rilien. While she, too, professed familiarity in Hightown and all of its extravagant estates, it had been for very different reasonsāand usually, the interior of houses nor the location of windows out of sight helped. This man's house was unfamiliar to her. She'd never cat-called from beneath his bannister, and had no spidery connections to know of any families. Pretty faces had nothing to do with lineage. She sucked on her teeth and absently watched as candles were lit and hooked onto porches. All in all, Hightown painted a lovely picture in the evening. It also included her old home away from home, the Pleasure District, which she instinctively eased towards, clearing her throat with disappointment when they shuffled down the opposite alley.
āSo, we have to... talk to them about it?ā Sparrow snorted with a shake of her head, planting her hands on her hips. From her experience, nobles did not take well to anything logical. Tell someone their mage-son was causing a ruckus and drawing Templar's in, as well as endangering all other mages in Kirkwall, and they'd shut the door in their faces. What could be done, anyhow? She glanced back at Aurora. Sparrow might've been smooth-tongued when it came to courtship, but not in confrontations with skittish parents.
"It's always a good start," Aurora teased. She traded in her dirty clothes for the nicest set she believed she owned. If the next stage took place in Hightown, she didn't want to seem too out of place, but it was still undeniable that she wasn't from there. Pike even more so, unfortunately, as he seemed to be uncomfortable even walking through its streets. Walking beside him, along with Sparrow and Rilien, she actually felt like the most ordinary person in the group... Which meant that she was probably going to have to talk to the de Launcets.
The revelation caused her to sigh inwardly. "Actually," she began, "I'm probably going to have to talk to them about it," she finished, glancing at Rilien and Sparrow. Neither of them was much of a... People person. It wasn't something that she looked forward to, and she could have swore she heard Pike snicker at her. Aurora allowed Rilien to lead them to the manse, but she was the one to knock on the door. It was answered by what she assumed was their butler, a man who looked straight ahead without emotion. Aurora caught herself looking to his forehead for the sunburst brand.
"How may I help you?" The butler said in an eerily familiar monotone.
"May we see the de Launcets? We wish to speak to them about their son, Emile. We fear he may be in trouble," Aurora asked, which finally caught a glimmer of emotion from the butler. He looked down to her for a moment before nodded and asking them to wait while he informed the de Launcets.
A minute or two later, he returned and allowed them in, standing in between them and the doorway into the parlor. Aurora stood confused for a moment, before he shuffled to the side and revealed a woman, obviously highborn.
"Good evening Lady de Launcet," Aurora greeted with a bow. It... Seemed like the appropriate thing to do, considering the circumstances.
"I do not believe we have been introduced my dear...?" She asked in a distinct Orlesian accent.
"Aurora," she added, "And these are my friends Sparrow, Pike, and--" Before she could finish, the Lady finished for her.
"Rilien. He is the tranquil that runs the enchantment shop, no? From what we hear of him, his works are masterpieces. Please, come in, I will call for refreshments," she said, leading them into the parlor. Aurora was struck by how big the single room was, and noted that it could fit probably two of her homes in it. She'd never been one to place an attachment on material goods, but she could not deny the touch of envy she felt.
Talia!" She called. A few moments passed without a response before the Lady gave an exasperated sigh. "Oh! She is so slow, this girl. Come, let us chat while we wait," she said, leading them to a small table to the side.
Rilien clearly wasnāt one for chatting, but he did politely move himself into one of the chairs the Comtesse indicated, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee in a gesture of relaxation. It was in small part deceptiveāhe was habitually ready to react quite quickly to his environment, but he did not believe that the de Launcets posed anyone here an actual threat. They were nobles, not warriors, and he suspected that if they were harboring their son, they were doing it out of no malice. It was not as though they could be expected to want him in the Circle, considering the rumors floating around about Meredithās authoritarian leadership style, rumors which had grown worse rather than better of late.
Sparrow immediately felt a prickle of discomfort when they were invited inside. It always came in brief moments when she noticed just how different she was in comparison and lasted just as briefly, flitting away in childish curiosity as she glanced into the rooms they passed by. Gaudy furniture and equally fantastic paintings loitered the chambers. While she'd never been to Orlais before, she certainly recognized that outer influences had motivated the furnishings, which were so unlike Kirkwall's rabble. She was also somewhat dumbstruck by the woman's cordiality. Perhaps, a door closing in their faces, or at least harsh, clipped words. She had to admit she'd expected a different reaction, but maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Plopping down in another plush chair, Sparrow settled herself like a lounging cat and fixed the Lady with what she thought was a friendly, enquiring stare.
Chatting seemed harmless, though. āYou've got a nice home, then. Pretty things,ā she rambled as she plucked something from the nearest table. A small, intricate letter opener. Sparrow turned it over in her hands, and deposited it back where she'd taken it from. Rudeness was an acquired tasteābut her comments were genuine enough. She'd never been surrounded by so much wealth before, excluding that time they ventured into the Deep Roads. Her brief flirtation with wealth left her feeling as if it hadn't happened at all. She clucked her tongue and glanced over at Aurora. She racked her brain for something less inappropriate to lean on, aside from the obvious compliments sitting on her tongue. Not appropriate. āIs there anything you'd like to say?ā
Aurora looked at Sparrow for a moment before shrugging. "We wanted to talk to you about Emile," she said. All of the niceties and socialization was nice and all, but they had come there with a purpose and Aurora was not too keen on drawing it out for too long. They had come for a reason, and the longer they tarried, the more danger Emile was in.
"Emile? Oh, I have not seen Emile since he was taken to the Circle. He was just six. You do not have to worry, I am sure Emile will turn himself in soon. He is a good boy," the Lady said pleasantly.
Aurora intended to follow up with another question, but she barely opened her mouth before a voice echoed across the cavernous room. "Dulci!" A man called from the doorway, whom Aurora assumed to be Emile's father. "What have you done? You should have told the boy to throw himself at the mercy of the templars." A muffled cough escaped Pike at the notion, who then quietly shook his head. Aurora only shot him a glare in response.
"Guillaume! Darling..." Dulci managed before getting cut off by her husband. It seemed that for the moment Aurora and the others were ignored.
"Do not 'darling' me Dulci. He has been telling people he is our son, that you gave him gold."
"Guillaume, darling, we have guests!" Dulci said, gesturing over to Aurora and others. Guillaume slowly turned his head and stared at them for a moment, while Aurora offered a smile and a small wave. Pike on the other hand, rubbed his eyes. "As you were saying?" he muttered under his breath.
"Look, we just want to help Emile," Aurora said, "We may be your son's best chance for mercy from the templars."
"Mercy?" Dulci repeated in shock. "They would not really hurt him, would they? Oh, you should have seen his face-- It just broke my heart," She continued, rubbing her cheeks. She was clearly distraught. "I gave him some money. Not too much. He said he wanted to start a new life.
Guillaume's head snapped back to his wife. "New life? His new life is spent in Lowtown taverns, getting drunk on cheap wine. It's a wonder the templars haven't found him yet." He then turned back to Aurora and entreated her, "Help us, please. Emile is not a blood mage, just a foolish boy. Don't let the templars kill him."
Upon hearing the words 'blood mage,' Dulci shot out of her seat, while Aurora noticeably sank deeper into hers.The last thing she wanted to hear was blood mage. "Blood mage! Oh Guillaume, do not say that!" Dulci continued, Aurora twitching at another instance of blood mage.
"Please, save my son's life," Guillaume pleaded.
Rilien had not missed family dramatics of this sort in the years heād gone without witnessing them. As far as he could tell, they had all the information they really required, and he stood smoothly. "Whatever we do, we ought to do it soon, lest the poor concealment Emile is maintaining bring less sympathetic visitors to his side.ā Not that he was sympathetic, of course, but one would be hard-pressed to find anyone moreso than the other three. He didnāt understand everyoneās panic about blood magicāEmileās father had just said he wasnāt one, and the truth of the matter was something they would likely not discover until they confronted the man himself.
Sparrow lifted two fingers together and dropped them back to her sides, swiftly rising from her comfortable perch, āAwkward.ā She wasn't sure what to make out of the whole spectacle, and it'd panned out stranger than she'd imagined, but Rilien was right... they needed to find him as quickly as possible. Templars and crocodile tears hardly mixed. Ripping apart families and shoving people into towers was only a matter of business. Besides, they'd sooner have Emile's head erected on a pointy stick, presumably posted outside the Gallows for all to see. She blinked owlishly at the mention of blood magic. Why mention it if there was none involved? Suspicious. She cleared her throat and placed her hand across her heart, āWe'll do what we can. Now, we should be going.ā
Taverns in Lowtown? Those were places she could actually lead them to.
"Thank you!" Guillaume said, "An acquaintance spied Emile in the Hanged Man not too long ago. He should still be there," He offered.
Dulci covered her mouth in painful surprise, "The Hanged Man? Oh, but that place is so filthy!" Aurora averted her gaze and said nothing about the tavern being a sort of.. nexus of theirs. Of course he'd be in the Hanged Man.
"Come, Dulci. Perhaps you should lie down," Guillaume said, leading her away, leaving Aurora and her friends in the parlor for the moment.
"She's... Not wrong, the place is pretty filthy," Aurora agreed, "Come on, let's hurry before we miss him." With that, she turned and led them out of the manse and back onto the streets. The path to the Hanged Man was one any of them could make in their sleep, due to how many times they've been there. It wasn't long before they pulled up to the familiar door, and Aurora pushed her way in, holding the door for the others to follow.
Upon entering the Hanged Man, Rilien scanned it over. Being a weeknight, it was not as busy as it was at the end of one, when the more conscientious tended to relax their standards a bit without more work to do the next day. That meant most of the patrons were either alcoholics, regulars close enough to it, or those with unusual schedules. It wasnāt too hard to pick out the man in silk who shared his motherās hair colorāhe was presently facedown over one of the tables, several empty mugs laying about his person.
If it were possible for Rilien to look even less impressed than the way he usually did, that was how he appeared, his eyes falling half-lidded. Leaning slightly down and slightly over to speak quietly to Aurora, he flicked his eyes in the direction of the passed-out noble. "When you visited the Antivan Circle, did you note that the mages were now required to distinguish themselves with unfortunate haircuts? Because I can think of no other logical reason a person would voluntarily look like that.ā His delivery was unswervingly monotone, but there was a faint hint of distaste in it as well.
Aurora tried to stifle a laugh, to no avail. It still came out between her lips, and after that she couldn't stop herself. "No, no they didn't. I'm pretty sure they'd jump off the tower before going into public like that. Who ever thought that hair was a good idea needs to be locked up instead," she said, hiding her mouth with her hand. Emile had a... Bowl cut, of sorts, but that wouldn't have been so bad by itself. What really set him apart was the massive bald spot that sat on the top of his head. Pike was turned around, his back toward the man, though his shoulders were hitched, more from the unexpected joke from the tranquil than anything else.
"You... You're going to have to talk to him, I don't think I'll be able to keep a straight face."
It might have been a quirk of the lighting, but for a moment, Rilien seemed almost to smile with his eyes alone, though if it indeed happened, it passed very quickly, and he looked again as he always did. "Fortunately, ākeeping a straight faceā happens to be my area of expertise.ā He did indeed lead the way towards Emile, or the man who could hardly be anyone else anyway. He had no desire to touch the manāthe Hanged Man was fairly uncleanāso he inquired verbally, at just enough volume that he should rouse the sleeping.
"Emile de Launcet?ā Subtlety seemed hardly required on their parts when the man in question was obvious enough to pass out in a tavern while the Templars were looking for him. He supposed the Knight-Captain might have intentionally held off on the search for this one, if he hadnāt been found already; the Templars were not generally incompetent.
The man, though in truth he looked more of a boy at present, started, shooting upwards sharply until his nausea likely caught up with him, and he swayed a little in his seat. Rilien took a judicious step to the side, just in case he should lose the bellyful of rotgut he probably contained. He seemed to become sensate again, though, and kept the contents of his stomach to himself. āHow do you know my name? Did Nella tell you?ā His voice was slurred, but not enough to make him incomprehensible. Rilien resigned himself to taking a long time to get to the point, and indeed, Emile kept talking.
āI gave her my Launcet signet ring in exchange for a kiss, and tonight, sheās going to make me a man.ā
"Is that so?ā Rilien blinked, no more impressed than he was a few minutes ago, wondering distantly if anyone had ever taught Emile how to shave his face. His uneven, wispy facial hair was doing him no more favors than his haircut.
Apparently unaffected by the elfās dry manner, Emile continued to make a mockery of any attempt to lay low in possibly the history of all attempts to lay low. āRound of drinks, on me? Iām Emile, as you know. And you areā¦?ā
Rilien said nothing, staring him down for a moment, waiting for the realization to kick in. It wasnāt like people wore sunburst brands on their heads for aesthetic reasons. After several very long seconds, what he was observing seemed to catch up to Emile. āYouāre with the Chantry! Oh, buggery! I know what this is about. Iām not a blood mage, all right? I, uhā¦ I started that rumor becauseā¦ because I thought it would make me sound dangerous andā¦ suave.ā He stood, apparently more to make room for emphatic gesticulation than for anything else.
At Rilienās continued silence, he seemed to grow more desperate to explain himself. āI-I mean, itās not like Iāve told everyone you know. Only people in the tavern. And only women.ā The Tranquil was unsure how exactly that was supposed to make anything more reasonable, but he kept his silence. Apparently, that was intimidation enough to wring everything from Emile that he wanted to say, anyway. āYou donāt understand. Iāve been in the Circle since I was six. Six! For twenty years I was locked up. Never had a real drink, orā¦ cooked something for myself. Never stood in the rain, or kissed a girl. I just wanted to live a little.ā
Something told Rilien that a few of these lacks of life experience had more to do with Emile than the Circle. He didnāt remember having any trouble with either locating drinks or interested parties with whom to hide in dark corners and broom closets. He chose not to say this, however. Pike on the other hand, simply sighed-- loudly. Sparrow snickered behind Rilien, knuckling her nose in a weak attempt to hide her amusement.
Emile sighed. āPlease. If youāre going to kill me, do it. Iād rather die drunk.ā
Rilien drew one of his knives, seizing the wrist of Emileās non-dominant hand. Despite his words, the young man struggled against his hold, but the Tranquil was unconcerned. A flash of the knife, and Emileās silk sleeve was split up the middle, falling away from his forearm on the underside. The skin there was smooth, free of any wounds or even the light scars that blood mages tended to accrue. The elfās knife slid home in the sheath at his belt, and he glanced back at the other three, releasing the young de Launcet from his grip.
"The bloody fool," Pike stated, clearly more upset with the thought that Emile had been parading himself about as a blood mage because it might make him more popular with the women. "You idiot, do you know what they do with blood mages? Maybe it's better that you don't..." Pike said, calming down after getting a look from Aurora. "Doesn't matter, no amount of blood magic would help that hair," he said, though under his breath. Aurora couldn't help but hide a grin at that.
However, that grin faded soon after, as they had to do something about Emile. If they were to let him go, then there were no guarantees that he wouldn't pull another stunt like that again. Looking at Pike Aurora shrugged and stepped forward. "Templars kill maleficarum. It doesn't matter if it you were lying or not, Meredith wouldn't take that chance in letting even one escape. You can't stay here," Aurora said, earning herself a surprised look from Pike. It was surprising to see her so blunt with others.
"Thereās a merchant ship departing for Rivain tonight.ā Rilien raised one white brow ever so slightly. "You may wish to take it.ā
Rivain or deathāit wasn't as if there were many options for him, and by the slack-jawed expression on his face, he would choose wisely. Sailing into the night didn't sound half bad. She slung an arm around Rilien's shoulder and leered toothily beside him, craning her head to the side and decidedly placing a hand across his bald pate. āYou should probably take care of that when you get there,ā she suggested as he indignantly slapped her hand away.
If no one else was going to say it.
"The de Launcet manse is this way.ā Rilien, intimately familiar with Hightown, led the way. By this point, dusk was beginning to fall, the sky overhead growing darker, casting the pale stone most of the buildings were made of into medium greys and blues. A few merchants were closing up shop; others lit various torches and candles to illuminate what was still on offer. Down a side street, they could make out the bright, blush-colored paper lanterns that signified the boundary of the pleasure district. He led them in the opposite direction, however, turning down a few less-used, but still well-maintained, side streets, ending in a rather large courtyard shared by three different manors.
"Left. The Knight-Captain believes that Emileās parents may be harboring him, but it is a much more complicated matter to level such an accusation at a noble with status and position to wield in retaliation.ā Had he set upon this task himself, he would likely not have bothered to interrogate them at all. While he wasnāt ineffective at persuading people to part with information, it was simply easier to find it in more direct ways, and he would have chosen to sweep the house for traces of the mage son and his magic, or evidence of where he might be insteadāwithout the knowledge of the Comte and Comtesse. But they were not him, and the face-to-face approach may serve them well, since their ears were bound to be more sympathetic than his ever could be.
Crisp, clean clothes. Sparrow pinched the fabric of her loose shirt and brought it up to her nose, inhaling deeply, heedless of manners and her exposed belly button. Smelt like lavender, strangely enough. When she thought about it, all her clothes did. It sure as hell didn't come from the musty heap of shirts and trousers she kept just beside her ill-fitting rust-bucket she'd once called proper armour. She dropped her hands back down and smoothed them across the front of her shirt, eyeing the remaining people bustling in the square. People were beginning to drift back home, shutting doors and windows. The smell was noticeably stronger around these parts, but she didn't mind. Not as subtle as Aurora's flower garden, but she admitted to nuzzling a few fragrant jawlines in these very houses.
She followed beside Rilien. While she, too, professed familiarity in Hightown and all of its extravagant estates, it had been for very different reasonsāand usually, the interior of houses nor the location of windows out of sight helped. This man's house was unfamiliar to her. She'd never cat-called from beneath his bannister, and had no spidery connections to know of any families. Pretty faces had nothing to do with lineage. She sucked on her teeth and absently watched as candles were lit and hooked onto porches. All in all, Hightown painted a lovely picture in the evening. It also included her old home away from home, the Pleasure District, which she instinctively eased towards, clearing her throat with disappointment when they shuffled down the opposite alley.
āSo, we have to... talk to them about it?ā Sparrow snorted with a shake of her head, planting her hands on her hips. From her experience, nobles did not take well to anything logical. Tell someone their mage-son was causing a ruckus and drawing Templar's in, as well as endangering all other mages in Kirkwall, and they'd shut the door in their faces. What could be done, anyhow? She glanced back at Aurora. Sparrow might've been smooth-tongued when it came to courtship, but not in confrontations with skittish parents.
"It's always a good start," Aurora teased. She traded in her dirty clothes for the nicest set she believed she owned. If the next stage took place in Hightown, she didn't want to seem too out of place, but it was still undeniable that she wasn't from there. Pike even more so, unfortunately, as he seemed to be uncomfortable even walking through its streets. Walking beside him, along with Sparrow and Rilien, she actually felt like the most ordinary person in the group... Which meant that she was probably going to have to talk to the de Launcets.
The revelation caused her to sigh inwardly. "Actually," she began, "I'm probably going to have to talk to them about it," she finished, glancing at Rilien and Sparrow. Neither of them was much of a... People person. It wasn't something that she looked forward to, and she could have swore she heard Pike snicker at her. Aurora allowed Rilien to lead them to the manse, but she was the one to knock on the door. It was answered by what she assumed was their butler, a man who looked straight ahead without emotion. Aurora caught herself looking to his forehead for the sunburst brand.
"How may I help you?" The butler said in an eerily familiar monotone.
"May we see the de Launcets? We wish to speak to them about their son, Emile. We fear he may be in trouble," Aurora asked, which finally caught a glimmer of emotion from the butler. He looked down to her for a moment before nodded and asking them to wait while he informed the de Launcets.
A minute or two later, he returned and allowed them in, standing in between them and the doorway into the parlor. Aurora stood confused for a moment, before he shuffled to the side and revealed a woman, obviously highborn.
"Good evening Lady de Launcet," Aurora greeted with a bow. It... Seemed like the appropriate thing to do, considering the circumstances.
"I do not believe we have been introduced my dear...?" She asked in a distinct Orlesian accent.
"Aurora," she added, "And these are my friends Sparrow, Pike, and--" Before she could finish, the Lady finished for her.
"Rilien. He is the tranquil that runs the enchantment shop, no? From what we hear of him, his works are masterpieces. Please, come in, I will call for refreshments," she said, leading them into the parlor. Aurora was struck by how big the single room was, and noted that it could fit probably two of her homes in it. She'd never been one to place an attachment on material goods, but she could not deny the touch of envy she felt.
Talia!" She called. A few moments passed without a response before the Lady gave an exasperated sigh. "Oh! She is so slow, this girl. Come, let us chat while we wait," she said, leading them to a small table to the side.
Rilien clearly wasnāt one for chatting, but he did politely move himself into one of the chairs the Comtesse indicated, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee in a gesture of relaxation. It was in small part deceptiveāhe was habitually ready to react quite quickly to his environment, but he did not believe that the de Launcets posed anyone here an actual threat. They were nobles, not warriors, and he suspected that if they were harboring their son, they were doing it out of no malice. It was not as though they could be expected to want him in the Circle, considering the rumors floating around about Meredithās authoritarian leadership style, rumors which had grown worse rather than better of late.
Sparrow immediately felt a prickle of discomfort when they were invited inside. It always came in brief moments when she noticed just how different she was in comparison and lasted just as briefly, flitting away in childish curiosity as she glanced into the rooms they passed by. Gaudy furniture and equally fantastic paintings loitered the chambers. While she'd never been to Orlais before, she certainly recognized that outer influences had motivated the furnishings, which were so unlike Kirkwall's rabble. She was also somewhat dumbstruck by the woman's cordiality. Perhaps, a door closing in their faces, or at least harsh, clipped words. She had to admit she'd expected a different reaction, but maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Plopping down in another plush chair, Sparrow settled herself like a lounging cat and fixed the Lady with what she thought was a friendly, enquiring stare.
Chatting seemed harmless, though. āYou've got a nice home, then. Pretty things,ā she rambled as she plucked something from the nearest table. A small, intricate letter opener. Sparrow turned it over in her hands, and deposited it back where she'd taken it from. Rudeness was an acquired tasteābut her comments were genuine enough. She'd never been surrounded by so much wealth before, excluding that time they ventured into the Deep Roads. Her brief flirtation with wealth left her feeling as if it hadn't happened at all. She clucked her tongue and glanced over at Aurora. She racked her brain for something less inappropriate to lean on, aside from the obvious compliments sitting on her tongue. Not appropriate. āIs there anything you'd like to say?ā
Aurora looked at Sparrow for a moment before shrugging. "We wanted to talk to you about Emile," she said. All of the niceties and socialization was nice and all, but they had come there with a purpose and Aurora was not too keen on drawing it out for too long. They had come for a reason, and the longer they tarried, the more danger Emile was in.
"Emile? Oh, I have not seen Emile since he was taken to the Circle. He was just six. You do not have to worry, I am sure Emile will turn himself in soon. He is a good boy," the Lady said pleasantly.
Aurora intended to follow up with another question, but she barely opened her mouth before a voice echoed across the cavernous room. "Dulci!" A man called from the doorway, whom Aurora assumed to be Emile's father. "What have you done? You should have told the boy to throw himself at the mercy of the templars." A muffled cough escaped Pike at the notion, who then quietly shook his head. Aurora only shot him a glare in response.
"Guillaume! Darling..." Dulci managed before getting cut off by her husband. It seemed that for the moment Aurora and the others were ignored.
"Do not 'darling' me Dulci. He has been telling people he is our son, that you gave him gold."
"Guillaume, darling, we have guests!" Dulci said, gesturing over to Aurora and others. Guillaume slowly turned his head and stared at them for a moment, while Aurora offered a smile and a small wave. Pike on the other hand, rubbed his eyes. "As you were saying?" he muttered under his breath.
"Look, we just want to help Emile," Aurora said, "We may be your son's best chance for mercy from the templars."
"Mercy?" Dulci repeated in shock. "They would not really hurt him, would they? Oh, you should have seen his face-- It just broke my heart," She continued, rubbing her cheeks. She was clearly distraught. "I gave him some money. Not too much. He said he wanted to start a new life.
Guillaume's head snapped back to his wife. "New life? His new life is spent in Lowtown taverns, getting drunk on cheap wine. It's a wonder the templars haven't found him yet." He then turned back to Aurora and entreated her, "Help us, please. Emile is not a blood mage, just a foolish boy. Don't let the templars kill him."
Upon hearing the words 'blood mage,' Dulci shot out of her seat, while Aurora noticeably sank deeper into hers.The last thing she wanted to hear was blood mage. "Blood mage! Oh Guillaume, do not say that!" Dulci continued, Aurora twitching at another instance of blood mage.
"Please, save my son's life," Guillaume pleaded.
Rilien had not missed family dramatics of this sort in the years heād gone without witnessing them. As far as he could tell, they had all the information they really required, and he stood smoothly. "Whatever we do, we ought to do it soon, lest the poor concealment Emile is maintaining bring less sympathetic visitors to his side.ā Not that he was sympathetic, of course, but one would be hard-pressed to find anyone moreso than the other three. He didnāt understand everyoneās panic about blood magicāEmileās father had just said he wasnāt one, and the truth of the matter was something they would likely not discover until they confronted the man himself.
Sparrow lifted two fingers together and dropped them back to her sides, swiftly rising from her comfortable perch, āAwkward.ā She wasn't sure what to make out of the whole spectacle, and it'd panned out stranger than she'd imagined, but Rilien was right... they needed to find him as quickly as possible. Templars and crocodile tears hardly mixed. Ripping apart families and shoving people into towers was only a matter of business. Besides, they'd sooner have Emile's head erected on a pointy stick, presumably posted outside the Gallows for all to see. She blinked owlishly at the mention of blood magic. Why mention it if there was none involved? Suspicious. She cleared her throat and placed her hand across her heart, āWe'll do what we can. Now, we should be going.ā
Taverns in Lowtown? Those were places she could actually lead them to.
"Thank you!" Guillaume said, "An acquaintance spied Emile in the Hanged Man not too long ago. He should still be there," He offered.
Dulci covered her mouth in painful surprise, "The Hanged Man? Oh, but that place is so filthy!" Aurora averted her gaze and said nothing about the tavern being a sort of.. nexus of theirs. Of course he'd be in the Hanged Man.
"Come, Dulci. Perhaps you should lie down," Guillaume said, leading her away, leaving Aurora and her friends in the parlor for the moment.
"She's... Not wrong, the place is pretty filthy," Aurora agreed, "Come on, let's hurry before we miss him." With that, she turned and led them out of the manse and back onto the streets. The path to the Hanged Man was one any of them could make in their sleep, due to how many times they've been there. It wasn't long before they pulled up to the familiar door, and Aurora pushed her way in, holding the door for the others to follow.
Upon entering the Hanged Man, Rilien scanned it over. Being a weeknight, it was not as busy as it was at the end of one, when the more conscientious tended to relax their standards a bit without more work to do the next day. That meant most of the patrons were either alcoholics, regulars close enough to it, or those with unusual schedules. It wasnāt too hard to pick out the man in silk who shared his motherās hair colorāhe was presently facedown over one of the tables, several empty mugs laying about his person.
If it were possible for Rilien to look even less impressed than the way he usually did, that was how he appeared, his eyes falling half-lidded. Leaning slightly down and slightly over to speak quietly to Aurora, he flicked his eyes in the direction of the passed-out noble. "When you visited the Antivan Circle, did you note that the mages were now required to distinguish themselves with unfortunate haircuts? Because I can think of no other logical reason a person would voluntarily look like that.ā His delivery was unswervingly monotone, but there was a faint hint of distaste in it as well.
Aurora tried to stifle a laugh, to no avail. It still came out between her lips, and after that she couldn't stop herself. "No, no they didn't. I'm pretty sure they'd jump off the tower before going into public like that. Who ever thought that hair was a good idea needs to be locked up instead," she said, hiding her mouth with her hand. Emile had a... Bowl cut, of sorts, but that wouldn't have been so bad by itself. What really set him apart was the massive bald spot that sat on the top of his head. Pike was turned around, his back toward the man, though his shoulders were hitched, more from the unexpected joke from the tranquil than anything else.
"You... You're going to have to talk to him, I don't think I'll be able to keep a straight face."
It might have been a quirk of the lighting, but for a moment, Rilien seemed almost to smile with his eyes alone, though if it indeed happened, it passed very quickly, and he looked again as he always did. "Fortunately, ākeeping a straight faceā happens to be my area of expertise.ā He did indeed lead the way towards Emile, or the man who could hardly be anyone else anyway. He had no desire to touch the manāthe Hanged Man was fairly uncleanāso he inquired verbally, at just enough volume that he should rouse the sleeping.
"Emile de Launcet?ā Subtlety seemed hardly required on their parts when the man in question was obvious enough to pass out in a tavern while the Templars were looking for him. He supposed the Knight-Captain might have intentionally held off on the search for this one, if he hadnāt been found already; the Templars were not generally incompetent.
The man, though in truth he looked more of a boy at present, started, shooting upwards sharply until his nausea likely caught up with him, and he swayed a little in his seat. Rilien took a judicious step to the side, just in case he should lose the bellyful of rotgut he probably contained. He seemed to become sensate again, though, and kept the contents of his stomach to himself. āHow do you know my name? Did Nella tell you?ā His voice was slurred, but not enough to make him incomprehensible. Rilien resigned himself to taking a long time to get to the point, and indeed, Emile kept talking.
āI gave her my Launcet signet ring in exchange for a kiss, and tonight, sheās going to make me a man.ā
"Is that so?ā Rilien blinked, no more impressed than he was a few minutes ago, wondering distantly if anyone had ever taught Emile how to shave his face. His uneven, wispy facial hair was doing him no more favors than his haircut.
Apparently unaffected by the elfās dry manner, Emile continued to make a mockery of any attempt to lay low in possibly the history of all attempts to lay low. āRound of drinks, on me? Iām Emile, as you know. And you areā¦?ā
Rilien said nothing, staring him down for a moment, waiting for the realization to kick in. It wasnāt like people wore sunburst brands on their heads for aesthetic reasons. After several very long seconds, what he was observing seemed to catch up to Emile. āYouāre with the Chantry! Oh, buggery! I know what this is about. Iām not a blood mage, all right? I, uhā¦ I started that rumor becauseā¦ because I thought it would make me sound dangerous andā¦ suave.ā He stood, apparently more to make room for emphatic gesticulation than for anything else.
At Rilienās continued silence, he seemed to grow more desperate to explain himself. āI-I mean, itās not like Iāve told everyone you know. Only people in the tavern. And only women.ā The Tranquil was unsure how exactly that was supposed to make anything more reasonable, but he kept his silence. Apparently, that was intimidation enough to wring everything from Emile that he wanted to say, anyway. āYou donāt understand. Iāve been in the Circle since I was six. Six! For twenty years I was locked up. Never had a real drink, orā¦ cooked something for myself. Never stood in the rain, or kissed a girl. I just wanted to live a little.ā
Something told Rilien that a few of these lacks of life experience had more to do with Emile than the Circle. He didnāt remember having any trouble with either locating drinks or interested parties with whom to hide in dark corners and broom closets. He chose not to say this, however. Pike on the other hand, simply sighed-- loudly. Sparrow snickered behind Rilien, knuckling her nose in a weak attempt to hide her amusement.
Emile sighed. āPlease. If youāre going to kill me, do it. Iād rather die drunk.ā
Rilien drew one of his knives, seizing the wrist of Emileās non-dominant hand. Despite his words, the young man struggled against his hold, but the Tranquil was unconcerned. A flash of the knife, and Emileās silk sleeve was split up the middle, falling away from his forearm on the underside. The skin there was smooth, free of any wounds or even the light scars that blood mages tended to accrue. The elfās knife slid home in the sheath at his belt, and he glanced back at the other three, releasing the young de Launcet from his grip.
"The bloody fool," Pike stated, clearly more upset with the thought that Emile had been parading himself about as a blood mage because it might make him more popular with the women. "You idiot, do you know what they do with blood mages? Maybe it's better that you don't..." Pike said, calming down after getting a look from Aurora. "Doesn't matter, no amount of blood magic would help that hair," he said, though under his breath. Aurora couldn't help but hide a grin at that.
However, that grin faded soon after, as they had to do something about Emile. If they were to let him go, then there were no guarantees that he wouldn't pull another stunt like that again. Looking at Pike Aurora shrugged and stepped forward. "Templars kill maleficarum. It doesn't matter if it you were lying or not, Meredith wouldn't take that chance in letting even one escape. You can't stay here," Aurora said, earning herself a surprised look from Pike. It was surprising to see her so blunt with others.
"Thereās a merchant ship departing for Rivain tonight.ā Rilien raised one white brow ever so slightly. "You may wish to take it.ā
Rivain or deathāit wasn't as if there were many options for him, and by the slack-jawed expression on his face, he would choose wisely. Sailing into the night didn't sound half bad. She slung an arm around Rilien's shoulder and leered toothily beside him, craning her head to the side and decidedly placing a hand across his bald pate. āYou should probably take care of that when you get there,ā she suggested as he indignantly slapped her hand away.
If no one else was going to say it.
The Chanter's Board has been updated. On the Loose has been completed.