Spring slowly gave way to summer, the early part of the season bringing with it a balmy slightly-sticky heat. It was more tropical than the kind Rilien was used to in Orlais, but he endured it with the same unruffled calm that he dealt with almost everything else, forgoing the sleeves on most days, but otherwise changing little about his appearance or surroundings. This particular day was shaping up to be much the same as those that had preceded it: he worked quietly for a span of about six hours, after which heâd make deliveries and the like, and then it would be time to meet Estella for her training. Occasionally he saw others, but Sparrow was a distant presence at best, still ensconced safely in the Alienage. He knew this, but it was not something he had yet acted upon, which was illogical since he knew he should.
Occasionally, he reminded himself of this, but it never seemed to motivate him any further to action, which was rather curious. Once, logic had been his only motive for anything. Or so heâd told himself, anyway. Heâd rather forgotten how good at deception he wasâgood enough to fool himself as well as everyone else. No logic had brought him through Denerim and a horde to Kirkwall. That had been loyalty, and trust. Similar things drove him still.
He didnât mind the light sheen of sweat that beaded on his bare arms from the heat of his forge, not even when a drop collected on his chin and fell to the hot blade below, sizzling away into nothingness on the yellow-white metal as it took shape beneath his hammer. The lyrium was⊠almost a little harder to work, lately, and he refused to let his focus slip as he had the last time heâd been at this task. On the second attempt, it had folded into the steel a little easier, and all that remained was to beat the sword back into its proper shape and sharpen the edges anew.
With a few final, measured blows, he doused the whole thing in the trough of water laying to the side of the anvil, steam flying upwards only to be caught and filtered out the open window on the other side. He left it there for a moment and killed the fire in the hearth, removing the bellows from their stand and hanging them back on the hook in the wall that held them. Even extinguishing the fire did little for the heat in the shopâit was an unseasonably warm day, and he wasnât the only one feeling of it. Bodahn was patting his forehead dry of sweat with a handkerchief, and though Sandal appeared no more affected than Rilien did, his short hair was plastered to his head, damp and sticky.
Opening the rest of the windows, Rilien elected to prop the shopâs door open as well, holding it in place with a wedge of wood. The air wasnât much cooler outside, but at least it would circulate this way instead of remaining stagnant and oppressive. He was about to go remove the sword from the trough when he caught sight of Estella making her way up the street towards him. That was unusualâthey werenât scheduled for anything until much later in the afternoon. It wasnât entirely unheard-of for her to spend free time in his shop for whatever reason, however, and so he didnât think much of it, merely nodding to acknowledge that he had noted her approach and ducking back inside, removing the now-cooled sword and placing it on one of the many racks on the shopâs walls. It gleamed faintly with the nature enchantment heâd given it, the blade seemingly tinged green along the center line.
Estella gave one of her customary small smiles to Rilienâs nod, picking up her pace just slightly. She was always glad to see him, but perhaps in this instance, she was a little more eager than usual, owing to the arrival of two strange objects at the barracks that morning. One was tucked under her elbow, held against her side, and the other was in her left hand. She ran her right index finger over the large, soft white feather, which sheâd found balanced on her pillow when sheâd returned from bathing that morning, the heavy parchment envelope laying beneath it. It was sealed and addressed to Rilien, not her, so sheâd first showed it to Lucien, who seemed to recognize the seal. Heâd told her in no uncertain terms to bring it to Rilien, and then do whatever he said, apparently inclined to leave the matter to his friendâs judgement.
That was fine with Estella, too, of course, though she did wonder why a letter for him should not be delivered to him. Their frequent association wasnât a secret by any means, but it wasnât something either of them had great cause to advertise, either, so most of those who knew about it were close with one or the other of them, which made the whole thing that much more mysterious.
Glancing up at the sky for a moment, Estella found it completely bereft of clouds, which fit with the temperature. She wasnât as bothered by it as some might be, having grown up in one of the warmest climates in Thedas, but honestly that didnât make a person sweat much less, just feel it as less of a discomfort. She kept her hair high on her head, her linens loose and short-sleeved, and she coped just fine.
Entering the shop, she exchanged greetings with both Bodahn and Sandal before heading over to Rilienâs counter. From the smoldering embers, heâd recently been working on a project. Sheâd seen him enchant only onceâit was a fascinating process she didnât think she fully understood. Setting the letter down on the counter in front of him, she explained. âIt came about an hour ago, along with this.â She held up the feather in her hand, then set it down as well, though she couldnât imagine him needing a closer inspection to understand what it was.
Sheâd set the envelope face up, and so he could see his name written in an elegant, loping hand on the front. He recognized the writing, and felt⊠something like disconcerted to find that the seal on the backâwhite wax, the insignia of a stylized swan impressed into it. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and Rilien tore it open at once. The letter inside was extremely short, indirect, and cryptic, which was more or less what heâd expected. In the very center of the page were inscribed a few sparse lines of verse, in exactly the same hand, the ink a bright, ruby-red.
Occasionally, he reminded himself of this, but it never seemed to motivate him any further to action, which was rather curious. Once, logic had been his only motive for anything. Or so heâd told himself, anyway. Heâd rather forgotten how good at deception he wasâgood enough to fool himself as well as everyone else. No logic had brought him through Denerim and a horde to Kirkwall. That had been loyalty, and trust. Similar things drove him still.
He didnât mind the light sheen of sweat that beaded on his bare arms from the heat of his forge, not even when a drop collected on his chin and fell to the hot blade below, sizzling away into nothingness on the yellow-white metal as it took shape beneath his hammer. The lyrium was⊠almost a little harder to work, lately, and he refused to let his focus slip as he had the last time heâd been at this task. On the second attempt, it had folded into the steel a little easier, and all that remained was to beat the sword back into its proper shape and sharpen the edges anew.
With a few final, measured blows, he doused the whole thing in the trough of water laying to the side of the anvil, steam flying upwards only to be caught and filtered out the open window on the other side. He left it there for a moment and killed the fire in the hearth, removing the bellows from their stand and hanging them back on the hook in the wall that held them. Even extinguishing the fire did little for the heat in the shopâit was an unseasonably warm day, and he wasnât the only one feeling of it. Bodahn was patting his forehead dry of sweat with a handkerchief, and though Sandal appeared no more affected than Rilien did, his short hair was plastered to his head, damp and sticky.
Opening the rest of the windows, Rilien elected to prop the shopâs door open as well, holding it in place with a wedge of wood. The air wasnât much cooler outside, but at least it would circulate this way instead of remaining stagnant and oppressive. He was about to go remove the sword from the trough when he caught sight of Estella making her way up the street towards him. That was unusualâthey werenât scheduled for anything until much later in the afternoon. It wasnât entirely unheard-of for her to spend free time in his shop for whatever reason, however, and so he didnât think much of it, merely nodding to acknowledge that he had noted her approach and ducking back inside, removing the now-cooled sword and placing it on one of the many racks on the shopâs walls. It gleamed faintly with the nature enchantment heâd given it, the blade seemingly tinged green along the center line.
Estella gave one of her customary small smiles to Rilienâs nod, picking up her pace just slightly. She was always glad to see him, but perhaps in this instance, she was a little more eager than usual, owing to the arrival of two strange objects at the barracks that morning. One was tucked under her elbow, held against her side, and the other was in her left hand. She ran her right index finger over the large, soft white feather, which sheâd found balanced on her pillow when sheâd returned from bathing that morning, the heavy parchment envelope laying beneath it. It was sealed and addressed to Rilien, not her, so sheâd first showed it to Lucien, who seemed to recognize the seal. Heâd told her in no uncertain terms to bring it to Rilien, and then do whatever he said, apparently inclined to leave the matter to his friendâs judgement.
That was fine with Estella, too, of course, though she did wonder why a letter for him should not be delivered to him. Their frequent association wasnât a secret by any means, but it wasnât something either of them had great cause to advertise, either, so most of those who knew about it were close with one or the other of them, which made the whole thing that much more mysterious.
Glancing up at the sky for a moment, Estella found it completely bereft of clouds, which fit with the temperature. She wasnât as bothered by it as some might be, having grown up in one of the warmest climates in Thedas, but honestly that didnât make a person sweat much less, just feel it as less of a discomfort. She kept her hair high on her head, her linens loose and short-sleeved, and she coped just fine.
Entering the shop, she exchanged greetings with both Bodahn and Sandal before heading over to Rilienâs counter. From the smoldering embers, heâd recently been working on a project. Sheâd seen him enchant only onceâit was a fascinating process she didnât think she fully understood. Setting the letter down on the counter in front of him, she explained. âIt came about an hour ago, along with this.â She held up the feather in her hand, then set it down as well, though she couldnât imagine him needing a closer inspection to understand what it was.
Sheâd set the envelope face up, and so he could see his name written in an elegant, loping hand on the front. He recognized the writing, and felt⊠something like disconcerted to find that the seal on the backâwhite wax, the insignia of a stylized swan impressed into it. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and Rilien tore it open at once. The letter inside was extremely short, indirect, and cryptic, which was more or less what heâd expected. In the very center of the page were inscribed a few sparse lines of verse, in exactly the same hand, the ink a bright, ruby-red.
Bring me the name of the she-wolfâs shame.
Bring me the gold worn oâer the crown of the cold.
Last, be quick, fail not to observe,
Only thus the feathrâd will you preserve.
Bring me the gold worn oâer the crown of the cold.
Last, be quick, fail not to observe,
Only thus the feathrâd will you preserve.
Below that, in the same color, rested a slightly more informal note. We all do best in the company of friends.
Placing the missive back down on the counter, he raised his eyes to meet his studentâs. "Estella. This is very important. Where exactly were these left?â
âOn my bunk, why?â
"I see.â Rilien looked back down at the note, piecing the individual lines together. It was carefully phrased so that the grammar remained ambiguous between one and many âfeathrâdâ, and for a moment he entertained the irrational wish that it had been written in Orlesian, which had no such plurality ambiguities in it. Pursing his lips, he took another piece of parchment from beneath the counter and dashed off a short note to Lucien, informing him that he would be retaining Estella for the rest of the day, as well as a summary version of his suspicions and his desire that if anyone else they knew should mention the appearance of a very large swan feather in their residence, they immediately be taken into the Lionsâ protective custody until he could get the matter straightened out.
Once it was done, he put it back in the existing envelope and stepped outside, motioning for Les, one of the many idle roustabout children that tended to wander Hightown at these hours, looking for some odd job or another to do. This one would follow his instructions to the letterâRilien paid him too well for him to consider anything else. "The Lionsâ barracks. You are to hand it to the commander personally. When you return, Bodahn will pay you.â Heâd leave the funds for the transfer behind, but he was departing, at least for now.
Turning back to Estella, he noted with approval that she was armed, if perhaps understandably uncertain of what was going on. "You have questions. Ask them, but do so while we walk.â Choosing not to take any chances, Rilien armed himself as well, sliding several knives into various places on his belt and settling his bandolier over his chest, replete with small bottles of tonic and antidote alike. Holding the door for Estella to precede him, he started them towards the Keep.
Estella had no idea where they were going or what was happening, but she trusted Rilien, and if he was treating this as a matter of urgency, then it was. She fell into step beside him as they headed further into Hightown, her hand unconsciously drifting towards the hilt of her saber. Trying to decide which questions would be best to ask, she licked her lips, then pursed them with a hint of discomfort. Rilien wasnât being hasty, he didnât look afraid or uncomfortable or even mildly put-out, but she felt like something was wrong nevertheless. âOkay, um⊠where are we going, and why?â That seemed like a decent place to start, she supposed.
Rilien nodded slightly, acknowledging the question. "We are going to the Keep. There, we will find the official records of heraldry and peerage for the city of Kirkwall.â He needed to look something up.
âOkay, so why do we need to go there? What did that letter say, anyway?â She figured the last was technically an intrusive question, but she knew it was probably also the important one, and he wasnât likely to be cross with her for asking it. Her boots clipped along on the flagstones of the Hightown road, only audible because there were so few people about. Probably the heat. She could feel sweat gathering at the back of her neck, and was glad her hair was all atop her head for once. She attributed the fact that she still made automatic note of these things even in what must be an urgent situation to his influence, really. Sheâd never been given to outright panic, but distraction used to be a problem.
Rilien recited for her the contents of the message, and then explained. "I believe each line of it to represent a distinct objective that I am to perform. The first involves someone called the âShe-Wolf,â and the most likely identity of that person would be a female member of a house that uses wolves in its heraldry, since I have heard of no mercenary or criminal who goes by such a moniker.â Besides, he would scarcely be asked to deal in mercenaries or criminals when nobles were available. That was much more what he would expect from this.
âSo⊠you need to know which house that is, which is why weâre going to the Keep.â That much made sense, and sheâd followed so far, she believed. But there was something she didnât quite understand. âBut, if I can ask⊠why exactly are you doing whatever you believe this letter tells you to do?â Rilien was the last person she would ever guess would do something like this on a whim, or just because, or merely to get to the bottom of a mystery. In fact, if she had her guess, this wasnât really all that mysterious to him at all. So she couldnât divine his motive for actually doing it. Maybe he was hired to? But then, why send her the letter? And what did it mean, âonly thus the feathrâd will you preserveâ? That sounded ominous.
"Because that trifle you received is the calling card of a very specific bardic organization.â A pause. "Mine, or rather, that of my bardmistress, once also mine.â Rilienâs explanation was flat as ever, but his gaze was somewhere else. "It means that the person it is left with is marked for death. If I do not do this thing, she will have you killed.â Things didnât really get any simpler than that.
He knew, of course, that not even those of his former affiliation would have an easy time getting to her, not with the Lions about, but the fact that theyâd somehow managed to leave the thing on her bunk in the first place was an indication that they could, and that gave them a chance of success too great to be ignored. Odds were that he would have time to complete his objectives, but only as much time as was precisely necessary. And the note at the bottom had been a clear indication that whatever his solution was, it was expected that it would involve Estella herself, which was why heâd chosen to keep her with him.
Well, that and because he believed she would be best protected by someone with the same skill set as her would-be assassins. Namely, himself. It was only logical that since it was his fault that her life was in danger, he should be the one to see that the danger passed.
âOh.â Estella didnât seem all that surprised by the news that someone intended to kill her specifically. And indeed, she wasnât. She had never considered herself a person of importance, and she hadnât been. But she had been close to such people before, and she knew that fact tended to paint a target on her back just as surely. If Rilien believed that completing this task was the best way to ensure that she survived whatever this was, then she was going to trust him, and do everything she could to help. That only made sense.
Just as much, though⊠she wondered what this might mean to him. She knew he anticipated returning to Orlais and in some sense to his old life eventually, but she wasnât certain what implications this incident might have for that. Was he an enemy of his former allies now? Why else would they threaten to kill people he knew? The most absurd thing of all, though, was that she felt a little bit⊠happy. Rilien had more friends than he might think, and that someone had observed his life and chosen her specifically to get to him was⊠well, on the one hand it was a bit strange, and not a little daunting, but it felt like confirmation of a kind. She did matter, at least to someone. It was a good feeling.
They reached the Keep not long after, and since what they were looking for was public record, no one kept them from their search. The family they were looking for were called the Acklands, and they still maintained a manse in Hightown, which was not unexpected. He didnât think heâd be made to travel far for this. All that remained was to find the date and time for their next social engagementâand if it wasnât today, he had a feeling it would be soon. After that, the only real issue would be getting in⊠but he had an idea of how that could be achieved, and it involved his apprentice.
Placing the missive back down on the counter, he raised his eyes to meet his studentâs. "Estella. This is very important. Where exactly were these left?â
âOn my bunk, why?â
"I see.â Rilien looked back down at the note, piecing the individual lines together. It was carefully phrased so that the grammar remained ambiguous between one and many âfeathrâdâ, and for a moment he entertained the irrational wish that it had been written in Orlesian, which had no such plurality ambiguities in it. Pursing his lips, he took another piece of parchment from beneath the counter and dashed off a short note to Lucien, informing him that he would be retaining Estella for the rest of the day, as well as a summary version of his suspicions and his desire that if anyone else they knew should mention the appearance of a very large swan feather in their residence, they immediately be taken into the Lionsâ protective custody until he could get the matter straightened out.
Once it was done, he put it back in the existing envelope and stepped outside, motioning for Les, one of the many idle roustabout children that tended to wander Hightown at these hours, looking for some odd job or another to do. This one would follow his instructions to the letterâRilien paid him too well for him to consider anything else. "The Lionsâ barracks. You are to hand it to the commander personally. When you return, Bodahn will pay you.â Heâd leave the funds for the transfer behind, but he was departing, at least for now.
Turning back to Estella, he noted with approval that she was armed, if perhaps understandably uncertain of what was going on. "You have questions. Ask them, but do so while we walk.â Choosing not to take any chances, Rilien armed himself as well, sliding several knives into various places on his belt and settling his bandolier over his chest, replete with small bottles of tonic and antidote alike. Holding the door for Estella to precede him, he started them towards the Keep.
Estella had no idea where they were going or what was happening, but she trusted Rilien, and if he was treating this as a matter of urgency, then it was. She fell into step beside him as they headed further into Hightown, her hand unconsciously drifting towards the hilt of her saber. Trying to decide which questions would be best to ask, she licked her lips, then pursed them with a hint of discomfort. Rilien wasnât being hasty, he didnât look afraid or uncomfortable or even mildly put-out, but she felt like something was wrong nevertheless. âOkay, um⊠where are we going, and why?â That seemed like a decent place to start, she supposed.
Rilien nodded slightly, acknowledging the question. "We are going to the Keep. There, we will find the official records of heraldry and peerage for the city of Kirkwall.â He needed to look something up.
âOkay, so why do we need to go there? What did that letter say, anyway?â She figured the last was technically an intrusive question, but she knew it was probably also the important one, and he wasnât likely to be cross with her for asking it. Her boots clipped along on the flagstones of the Hightown road, only audible because there were so few people about. Probably the heat. She could feel sweat gathering at the back of her neck, and was glad her hair was all atop her head for once. She attributed the fact that she still made automatic note of these things even in what must be an urgent situation to his influence, really. Sheâd never been given to outright panic, but distraction used to be a problem.
Rilien recited for her the contents of the message, and then explained. "I believe each line of it to represent a distinct objective that I am to perform. The first involves someone called the âShe-Wolf,â and the most likely identity of that person would be a female member of a house that uses wolves in its heraldry, since I have heard of no mercenary or criminal who goes by such a moniker.â Besides, he would scarcely be asked to deal in mercenaries or criminals when nobles were available. That was much more what he would expect from this.
âSo⊠you need to know which house that is, which is why weâre going to the Keep.â That much made sense, and sheâd followed so far, she believed. But there was something she didnât quite understand. âBut, if I can ask⊠why exactly are you doing whatever you believe this letter tells you to do?â Rilien was the last person she would ever guess would do something like this on a whim, or just because, or merely to get to the bottom of a mystery. In fact, if she had her guess, this wasnât really all that mysterious to him at all. So she couldnât divine his motive for actually doing it. Maybe he was hired to? But then, why send her the letter? And what did it mean, âonly thus the feathrâd will you preserveâ? That sounded ominous.
"Because that trifle you received is the calling card of a very specific bardic organization.â A pause. "Mine, or rather, that of my bardmistress, once also mine.â Rilienâs explanation was flat as ever, but his gaze was somewhere else. "It means that the person it is left with is marked for death. If I do not do this thing, she will have you killed.â Things didnât really get any simpler than that.
He knew, of course, that not even those of his former affiliation would have an easy time getting to her, not with the Lions about, but the fact that theyâd somehow managed to leave the thing on her bunk in the first place was an indication that they could, and that gave them a chance of success too great to be ignored. Odds were that he would have time to complete his objectives, but only as much time as was precisely necessary. And the note at the bottom had been a clear indication that whatever his solution was, it was expected that it would involve Estella herself, which was why heâd chosen to keep her with him.
Well, that and because he believed she would be best protected by someone with the same skill set as her would-be assassins. Namely, himself. It was only logical that since it was his fault that her life was in danger, he should be the one to see that the danger passed.
âOh.â Estella didnât seem all that surprised by the news that someone intended to kill her specifically. And indeed, she wasnât. She had never considered herself a person of importance, and she hadnât been. But she had been close to such people before, and she knew that fact tended to paint a target on her back just as surely. If Rilien believed that completing this task was the best way to ensure that she survived whatever this was, then she was going to trust him, and do everything she could to help. That only made sense.
Just as much, though⊠she wondered what this might mean to him. She knew he anticipated returning to Orlais and in some sense to his old life eventually, but she wasnât certain what implications this incident might have for that. Was he an enemy of his former allies now? Why else would they threaten to kill people he knew? The most absurd thing of all, though, was that she felt a little bit⊠happy. Rilien had more friends than he might think, and that someone had observed his life and chosen her specifically to get to him was⊠well, on the one hand it was a bit strange, and not a little daunting, but it felt like confirmation of a kind. She did matter, at least to someone. It was a good feeling.
They reached the Keep not long after, and since what they were looking for was public record, no one kept them from their search. The family they were looking for were called the Acklands, and they still maintained a manse in Hightown, which was not unexpected. He didnât think heâd be made to travel far for this. All that remained was to find the date and time for their next social engagementâand if it wasnât today, he had a feeling it would be soon. After that, the only real issue would be getting in⊠but he had an idea of how that could be achieved, and it involved his apprentice.