Duke Prosperâs estate was nestled in the mountains, which at this time of year meant that the area was blanketed in snow. It had a sort of breathtaking, scenic appeal to it, the crystals sparkling under the sunlight, which for the journey thus far had been uninterrupted by clouds, lending a warmth to the daylight that made their trek rather pleasant. The ice coating the needles of most every pine tree was beginning to melt, droplets of water falling onto the snow-covered ground a steady patter as they progressed. It was winter, slowly beginning to emerge into the first false spring. If the weather held, it would prove no impediment to them, even despite the chill.
Lucien rode at the front of the procession, more because he knew where they were going than for any other reason. Heâd shed most of the evidence of his current occupation, digging into his trunk and retrieving more official livery for the occasion. All of their horses were blanketed in emerald green and silver for the duration, saddles oiled to a supple shine, and he himself wore the same colors on his fur-lined cloak, the crest at the back unmistakably a dragon, wings spread wide and head pointed towards the sky. It was all a little unnecessary, in his opinion, but needs must, and appearances mattered when one played the Game. Fortunately, this was likely not an occasion on which masks would be required, as it was rather informal by comparison, which he considered a stroke of luck.
In the interest of simplicity, heâd decided that other than Sophia, the party would be introduced as his retinue, and then essentially allowed to do as they liked. People tended not to keep track of the help, which would be to their advantage here. He was counting on his own appearance acting as a rather effective smokescreen to any of the nobles caring about most of those heâd brought with him, which should allow them to move about freely, as long as they were careful not to be seen anywhere they definitely shouldnât be. He didnât doubt they knew what they were doing, in that respect.
Gradually, the path they were traveling on evened out, sloping down into a wider thoroughfare that no doubt served as the main route to and from the Prosper estate for deliveries and guests both. The estate itself was somewhere between a large manse and a very small castle, made largely of the same medium-grey stone as the surrounding mountainsides. The snow capped the roofs of the small towers and several outbuildings, contrasting with the warm glow emitted by the candles and torches in the windows. It was a rather elegant vista, as far as they went, and he could appreciate the tactical advantages as wellâthe back of the place was built into the mountainside, and the front three sides were protected by a wall with, by the looks of it, only one gate in.
They stopped outside the gate, which was manned by two guards, both in elaborate, feather-plumed helmets. One called down to them. âWho goes?â
Lucien chose to announce himself, since he didn't want to make Rilien do it and none of the others would know how anyway, and he went with the short version. âSer Lucien Thibault Drakon, Prince of the Empire, Marquis of Lydes, Commander of the Knights Chevalier, accompanied by Lady Sophia Dumar of Kirkwall, and household.â Clearing his throat a smidge awkwardly, he held up an envelope. âI, ah⊠have an invitation.â
Even from this distance, it was rather evident that the guardâs eyes couldnât have widened any further without risking expulsion from his head. âYes, of course. Please pardon us, Your Imperial Highness!â The sound of the gate cranking open immediately followed, and Lucien sighed heavily. He would have told them to call him âserâ if they had to do anything, but that would only make things even worse, for he and they both.
âWell, it looks like weâre in.â
Sophia knew he was more comfortable in anything else, but she didn't mind seeing Lucien dressed up every once in a while. Considering the snow and the object of the gathering--a hunt--she had found something practical for herself as well as fashionable enough for show, which had required a trip to Hightown's market, as it had been some time since she'd been to anything like this. Her armor, however, was still tucked into her saddlebags, lighter and heavier variations, as a wyvern was nothing to be trifled with in the event that they were the ones to come across its path.
"Lovely place the Duke has," she commented, without sarcasm. It had been a beautiful ride up through the mountains, and they'd even been lucky enough to have clear weather for the day, comfortable even with the snow surrounding them. They passed now through the gates, the stables awaiting them ahead, though the stableman and several of his assistants waited to greet them outside of it. Sophia smoothly dismounted from her sadly unfamiliar horse, handing over the reins.
Ithilian did so as well, giving his horse to a younger elven stableboy, who stared at him wide-eyed for a moment before remembering his job. He had said little on the ride over, and nothing at all after they'd come even remotely close to their destination. He was glad at least that the noble members of the party would draw most of the attention, and planned on speaking as few words as he needed to. Dressed mostly in furs and leather, what cloth he wore in tones of brown and green, it would seem obvious that he was here to assist with the hunt to come. He would gladly have them believe that was all.
"I believe our host has come to greet us," Sophia said somewhat quietly, looking in the direction of the castle.
Lucien, giving his horse a pat on the flanks as she was led away, turned at the sound of Sophiaâs voice, his eyes falling on what did, indeed, appear to be an approaching entourage. Given that Prosper was in his own home at the moment, the procession wasnât particularly large, perhaps no more than five people. The consistent guard presence about the castle would serve well in lieu of most personal protection, though there was one bodyguard quite conspicuously stationed over the Dukeâs left shoulder.
The Duke himself was already dressed for hunting, by the looks of it, a rather ornate set of leathers and silvered chain, bearing his house colors of yellow and black, and a few plates for protection laid over his shoulders and forearms. Prosper wore his salt-and-pepper beard short and well-trimmed, as was his wavy hair. He looked to be in the center of his middle age, though fit as one would expect a hunting enthusiast to be. There was no disguising the fact that he was a good half-foot shorter than his guest of honor, however. He bowed deeply upon reaching the group, and his retinue took a knee, which provided Lucien with the interesting realization that one could indeed grow unaccustomed to being treated in such a way. He fought to keep a straight face, though he was certain the tips of his ears were pinking a little. Returning the bow in a much shallower fashion, Lucien offered a short gesture, which allowed all those kneeling to stand.
âYour Imperial Highness.â The Duke was a man of genial manner, and there was a thread of affability in the address, as though he had caught on to Lucienâs discomfort and was a bit amused by it. âLong has it been since you have graced your people with your presence. I must confess I was not expecting my humble hunt to be the scene of your return to society.â He smiled, inching a dark brow up his head.
âPlease donât think too much of it,â Lucien replied sincerely. âI had rather thought I should learn if I can still swim before I attempt to do so surrounded by sharks. A gathering of friends need not be a stage for me.â Prosper was silent for a moment, as though absorbing that, but such deflections were expected from the prince by now, and it was generally understood that they were meant in earnest, and so the other man shrugged his shoulders, a faint touch of informality bleeding into his demeanor.
âIf you wish. I still get to say I hosted you first, and I dare expect that will be quite enough to ruffle the right feathers, hm?â It seemed to be a mostly rhetorical question, because he clearly didnât expect Lucien to answer it. The greeting as such concluded, the Duke turned at last to Lucienâs companions, or at least the one with a title.
Picking up the cue, Lucien interceded. âDuke Prosper, please allow me to introduce Lady Sophia Dumar, of Kirkwall. Lady Sophia, this is Duke Prosper de Montfort, of Orlais.â
âEnchanted, my lady,â the Duke replied affably, bowing over Sophiaâs hand but electing not to kiss it. âWelcome, to you and to all of His Highnessâs party, to Chateau Haine.â He rose, waving to his own group, and a young woman stepped forward, bowing to both the Duke and Lucien as well. âThis is Claudette. She will show you to your rooms, where you may prepare for this afternoonâs hunt. Perhaps you will have a chance to venture into the gardens before it begins? Many of my other guests are already present thereâand I am certain they would welcome the opportunity to converse with you after your absence. But alas, I must attend to other matters.â Prosper bowed, and at Lucienâs answering nod, took his leave, most of the rest of his party in tow, leaving the stewardess with the visitors.
âRight this way, Your Highness.â
The group followed the woman, including Aurora, who spent more time looking at the scenery than paying attention to the social niceties of the nobility. The posturing and whatnot went right over her head. The duke's chateau however, was something she could understand, albeit just barely. She wondered how one amassed such wealth to be able to even afford half of what he had, and no doubt this was just a second home for the Duke. It was beautiful, even with a layer of snow covering most of it. Aurora was not a winter person, unfortunately, so she pulled her dark red cloak over her neck and drew her scarf up around her chin.
The snow had the unfortunate effect of hiding all of the flowers, and Aurora found herself wishing it'd been spring so that she could see them. No doubt in a place such as the duke's chateau, the gardens would've just been marvelous to behold. As the girl, Claudette, lead them around around back, Aurora did catch a glimpse of the gardens, and found that they weren't completely bare due to the snow. A few of the winter blooming flowers and shrubs made their homes in there, and she couldn't help but smile at them. Someone who knew what they were doing was in charge of that, no doubt.
She also saw a number of the other nobility mingling the garden around where the food and wine was served, though she didn't recognize them. Even so, she found herself wanting to break off from her group to taste some of the finer Orlesian food, though she wisely stayed behind the young woman. Some of the nobles in the garden were obviously there for the hunt, while others had other plans it seemed. Still, she paid little attention to them as they were led toward their chambers, and was careful to not say anything, lest it be taken with offense. She'd let Lucien and Sophia take care of all the noble speak.
While those present may all be strangers to Aurora, Rilien knew almost all of them by name. It was residual information, old and largely irrelevant in his present life, but he hadnât forgotten any of it, and didnât intend to. He would probably need it again, in time, and it was best to be prepared. While most of the others had dressed themselves in whatever manner they thought most fitting, he actually came as Lucienâs servant, which meant a fair amount of green and silver, and heâd taken care to disguise some of his most prominent features, like his brand. With his hair pulled back into a tail, he looked different enough from the last time he was in Orlais that he doubted anyone would suspect him of being himself, even if one did not regularly encounter people with his coloration. It wasnât a particular concern if they did, but heâd prefer not to broadcast the fact that Lucien had brought a bard to the gathering.
Amalia didnât think much of all the ceremony, but at the same time, she didnât precisely disdain it, either. She could blend if she had to, but Lucien and Sophia were a far surer cover than any alias and occupation she could construct for herself, and as such, she was grateful to them. The layers of formality and convention would merely be further obfuscation that she could use to her advantage as she needed to. She was careful to scan over those people they passed without really seeming to study them at all, trailing at the back of the group with Ithilian. For the most part, she didnât recognize anyoneâthough she had once studied family livery belonging to Orlais, she had never been dispatched there, and so could perhaps pick out a few last names, from those who had their servants with them, dressed in their colors, but nobody specific stood out to her as a likely explanation for her purported connection to this place.
At least not until they passed by an open courtyard area in the garden, and she spied a group of several people arranged around an individual in rich red. He seemed to be holding quite the captive audience, an easy smile slid over his face like he was born to wear it. And then he looked up, eyes black as pitch, and pinned her almost in place with the stare.
Amalia hissed, a soft sound under her breath more reflex than choice, and kept her legs moving with only a slight hitch in her stride. Marcus. His presence at once explained everything and nothing at all. Her jaw tightened, but she forced herself to walk past him without so much as a second glance.
Ithilian was unable to avoid a slightly more lingering look, but his feet continued on their previous course. He realized then that up until that point he hadn't truly been treating this venture seriously. It was some game of noble politics before, a misunderstanding that had caught Amalia. Now, however... he immediately shifted his mindset into that of the hunter, constantly studying everything around him with a high level of focus. Whatever Marcus was here for, it was not coincidence, and it was not good.
The inside of the chateau was, if possible, even more extravagant than the exterior suggested. The entrance they took led immediately into the grand foyer, after which they were turned right and led up a few flights of stairs to a wing carpeted in dark amber, the floors a polished marble, from the looks of them. âThese rooms have been set aside for your use,â Claudette indicated in a heavy Orlesian accent. âIf there is anything you should want for, each room contains a bell on the wall that you may ring, and someone will be up to attend to you immediately.â She bowed, and then left them to their own devices.
It would seem that, while they had been speaking with the Duke, their belongings had already been brought into the rooms, with, oddly enough, an entire chamber for each of them. Lucien supposed Prosper had elected not to take any risks, given that Lucien had not specified exactly who he would be bringing. Once everyone had figured out where their own belongings were stowed, and moved them around as necessary, they all gathered in Lucienâs room to formulate their plans.
Amalia was troubled by Marcusâs appearance here, and refused to believe that it had nothing to do with her own, so she chose to lay that out first, much as she generally declined to speak of him. âThere is a Tevinter Magister here, one that I know. He⊠almost certainly has something to do with this.â Not that she could yet identify exactly what this was, but that was precisely part of the problem. âIf you should be introduced to a Marcus Alesius, be wary. He is no friend of anyone but himself.â
It was simple enough to tell that Marcus and Amalia had some kind of history, but Lucien didnât inquire after it. Sheâd warned them to be careful around him, and so they wouldâif any of the other details were pertinent, he was sure she would have shared them. âWhat are the chances of being able to get information out of him? Could he be tricked into explaining his purpose here?â
Amalia shook her head. âNo. He wonât explain himself until he wants to. Iâm more concerned that he knows why I am here. If he is some kind of ally of Prosperâs, he may or may not choose to share what he knows with him. We could be made before we begin.â
Lucien rubbed his chin thoughtfully. âI donât think thereâs much we can do about that but wait him out. If he werenât here, what would you do?â
âSearch the estate for any clues as to why Prosper would want to meet a Qunari⊠or a former one. Such meetings are not a matter of sending a request to Par Vollen.â She couldnât imagine it being anything but a prospective business transaction, which meant there might be records somewhere, or correspondence, or something of the kind.
âThe best time to do that will probably be during the hunt, when most of the household is either away or preparing for the party. Iâd like it if my group was not suspiciously smallâthe presumption is that most of you were brought here to participate with me. Is this something you and one other would be able to do yourselves?â
Amalia glanced at Ithilian, a wry twist to her lip. âIf the one doesnât mind the risk, yes.â
Lucien rode at the front of the procession, more because he knew where they were going than for any other reason. Heâd shed most of the evidence of his current occupation, digging into his trunk and retrieving more official livery for the occasion. All of their horses were blanketed in emerald green and silver for the duration, saddles oiled to a supple shine, and he himself wore the same colors on his fur-lined cloak, the crest at the back unmistakably a dragon, wings spread wide and head pointed towards the sky. It was all a little unnecessary, in his opinion, but needs must, and appearances mattered when one played the Game. Fortunately, this was likely not an occasion on which masks would be required, as it was rather informal by comparison, which he considered a stroke of luck.
In the interest of simplicity, heâd decided that other than Sophia, the party would be introduced as his retinue, and then essentially allowed to do as they liked. People tended not to keep track of the help, which would be to their advantage here. He was counting on his own appearance acting as a rather effective smokescreen to any of the nobles caring about most of those heâd brought with him, which should allow them to move about freely, as long as they were careful not to be seen anywhere they definitely shouldnât be. He didnât doubt they knew what they were doing, in that respect.
Gradually, the path they were traveling on evened out, sloping down into a wider thoroughfare that no doubt served as the main route to and from the Prosper estate for deliveries and guests both. The estate itself was somewhere between a large manse and a very small castle, made largely of the same medium-grey stone as the surrounding mountainsides. The snow capped the roofs of the small towers and several outbuildings, contrasting with the warm glow emitted by the candles and torches in the windows. It was a rather elegant vista, as far as they went, and he could appreciate the tactical advantages as wellâthe back of the place was built into the mountainside, and the front three sides were protected by a wall with, by the looks of it, only one gate in.
They stopped outside the gate, which was manned by two guards, both in elaborate, feather-plumed helmets. One called down to them. âWho goes?â
Lucien chose to announce himself, since he didn't want to make Rilien do it and none of the others would know how anyway, and he went with the short version. âSer Lucien Thibault Drakon, Prince of the Empire, Marquis of Lydes, Commander of the Knights Chevalier, accompanied by Lady Sophia Dumar of Kirkwall, and household.â Clearing his throat a smidge awkwardly, he held up an envelope. âI, ah⊠have an invitation.â
Even from this distance, it was rather evident that the guardâs eyes couldnât have widened any further without risking expulsion from his head. âYes, of course. Please pardon us, Your Imperial Highness!â The sound of the gate cranking open immediately followed, and Lucien sighed heavily. He would have told them to call him âserâ if they had to do anything, but that would only make things even worse, for he and they both.
âWell, it looks like weâre in.â
Sophia knew he was more comfortable in anything else, but she didn't mind seeing Lucien dressed up every once in a while. Considering the snow and the object of the gathering--a hunt--she had found something practical for herself as well as fashionable enough for show, which had required a trip to Hightown's market, as it had been some time since she'd been to anything like this. Her armor, however, was still tucked into her saddlebags, lighter and heavier variations, as a wyvern was nothing to be trifled with in the event that they were the ones to come across its path.
"Lovely place the Duke has," she commented, without sarcasm. It had been a beautiful ride up through the mountains, and they'd even been lucky enough to have clear weather for the day, comfortable even with the snow surrounding them. They passed now through the gates, the stables awaiting them ahead, though the stableman and several of his assistants waited to greet them outside of it. Sophia smoothly dismounted from her sadly unfamiliar horse, handing over the reins.
Ithilian did so as well, giving his horse to a younger elven stableboy, who stared at him wide-eyed for a moment before remembering his job. He had said little on the ride over, and nothing at all after they'd come even remotely close to their destination. He was glad at least that the noble members of the party would draw most of the attention, and planned on speaking as few words as he needed to. Dressed mostly in furs and leather, what cloth he wore in tones of brown and green, it would seem obvious that he was here to assist with the hunt to come. He would gladly have them believe that was all.
"I believe our host has come to greet us," Sophia said somewhat quietly, looking in the direction of the castle.
Lucien, giving his horse a pat on the flanks as she was led away, turned at the sound of Sophiaâs voice, his eyes falling on what did, indeed, appear to be an approaching entourage. Given that Prosper was in his own home at the moment, the procession wasnât particularly large, perhaps no more than five people. The consistent guard presence about the castle would serve well in lieu of most personal protection, though there was one bodyguard quite conspicuously stationed over the Dukeâs left shoulder.
The Duke himself was already dressed for hunting, by the looks of it, a rather ornate set of leathers and silvered chain, bearing his house colors of yellow and black, and a few plates for protection laid over his shoulders and forearms. Prosper wore his salt-and-pepper beard short and well-trimmed, as was his wavy hair. He looked to be in the center of his middle age, though fit as one would expect a hunting enthusiast to be. There was no disguising the fact that he was a good half-foot shorter than his guest of honor, however. He bowed deeply upon reaching the group, and his retinue took a knee, which provided Lucien with the interesting realization that one could indeed grow unaccustomed to being treated in such a way. He fought to keep a straight face, though he was certain the tips of his ears were pinking a little. Returning the bow in a much shallower fashion, Lucien offered a short gesture, which allowed all those kneeling to stand.
âYour Imperial Highness.â The Duke was a man of genial manner, and there was a thread of affability in the address, as though he had caught on to Lucienâs discomfort and was a bit amused by it. âLong has it been since you have graced your people with your presence. I must confess I was not expecting my humble hunt to be the scene of your return to society.â He smiled, inching a dark brow up his head.
âPlease donât think too much of it,â Lucien replied sincerely. âI had rather thought I should learn if I can still swim before I attempt to do so surrounded by sharks. A gathering of friends need not be a stage for me.â Prosper was silent for a moment, as though absorbing that, but such deflections were expected from the prince by now, and it was generally understood that they were meant in earnest, and so the other man shrugged his shoulders, a faint touch of informality bleeding into his demeanor.
âIf you wish. I still get to say I hosted you first, and I dare expect that will be quite enough to ruffle the right feathers, hm?â It seemed to be a mostly rhetorical question, because he clearly didnât expect Lucien to answer it. The greeting as such concluded, the Duke turned at last to Lucienâs companions, or at least the one with a title.
Picking up the cue, Lucien interceded. âDuke Prosper, please allow me to introduce Lady Sophia Dumar, of Kirkwall. Lady Sophia, this is Duke Prosper de Montfort, of Orlais.â
âEnchanted, my lady,â the Duke replied affably, bowing over Sophiaâs hand but electing not to kiss it. âWelcome, to you and to all of His Highnessâs party, to Chateau Haine.â He rose, waving to his own group, and a young woman stepped forward, bowing to both the Duke and Lucien as well. âThis is Claudette. She will show you to your rooms, where you may prepare for this afternoonâs hunt. Perhaps you will have a chance to venture into the gardens before it begins? Many of my other guests are already present thereâand I am certain they would welcome the opportunity to converse with you after your absence. But alas, I must attend to other matters.â Prosper bowed, and at Lucienâs answering nod, took his leave, most of the rest of his party in tow, leaving the stewardess with the visitors.
âRight this way, Your Highness.â
The group followed the woman, including Aurora, who spent more time looking at the scenery than paying attention to the social niceties of the nobility. The posturing and whatnot went right over her head. The duke's chateau however, was something she could understand, albeit just barely. She wondered how one amassed such wealth to be able to even afford half of what he had, and no doubt this was just a second home for the Duke. It was beautiful, even with a layer of snow covering most of it. Aurora was not a winter person, unfortunately, so she pulled her dark red cloak over her neck and drew her scarf up around her chin.
The snow had the unfortunate effect of hiding all of the flowers, and Aurora found herself wishing it'd been spring so that she could see them. No doubt in a place such as the duke's chateau, the gardens would've just been marvelous to behold. As the girl, Claudette, lead them around around back, Aurora did catch a glimpse of the gardens, and found that they weren't completely bare due to the snow. A few of the winter blooming flowers and shrubs made their homes in there, and she couldn't help but smile at them. Someone who knew what they were doing was in charge of that, no doubt.
She also saw a number of the other nobility mingling the garden around where the food and wine was served, though she didn't recognize them. Even so, she found herself wanting to break off from her group to taste some of the finer Orlesian food, though she wisely stayed behind the young woman. Some of the nobles in the garden were obviously there for the hunt, while others had other plans it seemed. Still, she paid little attention to them as they were led toward their chambers, and was careful to not say anything, lest it be taken with offense. She'd let Lucien and Sophia take care of all the noble speak.
While those present may all be strangers to Aurora, Rilien knew almost all of them by name. It was residual information, old and largely irrelevant in his present life, but he hadnât forgotten any of it, and didnât intend to. He would probably need it again, in time, and it was best to be prepared. While most of the others had dressed themselves in whatever manner they thought most fitting, he actually came as Lucienâs servant, which meant a fair amount of green and silver, and heâd taken care to disguise some of his most prominent features, like his brand. With his hair pulled back into a tail, he looked different enough from the last time he was in Orlais that he doubted anyone would suspect him of being himself, even if one did not regularly encounter people with his coloration. It wasnât a particular concern if they did, but heâd prefer not to broadcast the fact that Lucien had brought a bard to the gathering.
Amalia didnât think much of all the ceremony, but at the same time, she didnât precisely disdain it, either. She could blend if she had to, but Lucien and Sophia were a far surer cover than any alias and occupation she could construct for herself, and as such, she was grateful to them. The layers of formality and convention would merely be further obfuscation that she could use to her advantage as she needed to. She was careful to scan over those people they passed without really seeming to study them at all, trailing at the back of the group with Ithilian. For the most part, she didnât recognize anyoneâthough she had once studied family livery belonging to Orlais, she had never been dispatched there, and so could perhaps pick out a few last names, from those who had their servants with them, dressed in their colors, but nobody specific stood out to her as a likely explanation for her purported connection to this place.
At least not until they passed by an open courtyard area in the garden, and she spied a group of several people arranged around an individual in rich red. He seemed to be holding quite the captive audience, an easy smile slid over his face like he was born to wear it. And then he looked up, eyes black as pitch, and pinned her almost in place with the stare.
Amalia hissed, a soft sound under her breath more reflex than choice, and kept her legs moving with only a slight hitch in her stride. Marcus. His presence at once explained everything and nothing at all. Her jaw tightened, but she forced herself to walk past him without so much as a second glance.
Ithilian was unable to avoid a slightly more lingering look, but his feet continued on their previous course. He realized then that up until that point he hadn't truly been treating this venture seriously. It was some game of noble politics before, a misunderstanding that had caught Amalia. Now, however... he immediately shifted his mindset into that of the hunter, constantly studying everything around him with a high level of focus. Whatever Marcus was here for, it was not coincidence, and it was not good.
The inside of the chateau was, if possible, even more extravagant than the exterior suggested. The entrance they took led immediately into the grand foyer, after which they were turned right and led up a few flights of stairs to a wing carpeted in dark amber, the floors a polished marble, from the looks of them. âThese rooms have been set aside for your use,â Claudette indicated in a heavy Orlesian accent. âIf there is anything you should want for, each room contains a bell on the wall that you may ring, and someone will be up to attend to you immediately.â She bowed, and then left them to their own devices.
It would seem that, while they had been speaking with the Duke, their belongings had already been brought into the rooms, with, oddly enough, an entire chamber for each of them. Lucien supposed Prosper had elected not to take any risks, given that Lucien had not specified exactly who he would be bringing. Once everyone had figured out where their own belongings were stowed, and moved them around as necessary, they all gathered in Lucienâs room to formulate their plans.
Amalia was troubled by Marcusâs appearance here, and refused to believe that it had nothing to do with her own, so she chose to lay that out first, much as she generally declined to speak of him. âThere is a Tevinter Magister here, one that I know. He⊠almost certainly has something to do with this.â Not that she could yet identify exactly what this was, but that was precisely part of the problem. âIf you should be introduced to a Marcus Alesius, be wary. He is no friend of anyone but himself.â
It was simple enough to tell that Marcus and Amalia had some kind of history, but Lucien didnât inquire after it. Sheâd warned them to be careful around him, and so they wouldâif any of the other details were pertinent, he was sure she would have shared them. âWhat are the chances of being able to get information out of him? Could he be tricked into explaining his purpose here?â
Amalia shook her head. âNo. He wonât explain himself until he wants to. Iâm more concerned that he knows why I am here. If he is some kind of ally of Prosperâs, he may or may not choose to share what he knows with him. We could be made before we begin.â
Lucien rubbed his chin thoughtfully. âI donât think thereâs much we can do about that but wait him out. If he werenât here, what would you do?â
âSearch the estate for any clues as to why Prosper would want to meet a Qunari⊠or a former one. Such meetings are not a matter of sending a request to Par Vollen.â She couldnât imagine it being anything but a prospective business transaction, which meant there might be records somewhere, or correspondence, or something of the kind.
âThe best time to do that will probably be during the hunt, when most of the household is either away or preparing for the party. Iâd like it if my group was not suspiciously smallâthe presumption is that most of you were brought here to participate with me. Is this something you and one other would be able to do yourselves?â
Amalia glanced at Ithilian, a wry twist to her lip. âIf the one doesnât mind the risk, yes.â