Estella was pretty sure she hadnāt felt this awkward since she was fifteen years old and had accidentally caught her brother in the Chantry garden with Helene Titus. Actually, this might count as worse, because at least that had been, on some level, funny. This was justā¦ uncomfortable. In every conceivable way, actually.
Firstly, she was wearing a gown. It definitely wasnāt hers, but she hadnāt bothered to ask Rilien where heād procured it on such short notice. He had people for everything, she suspected. It wasnāt a big floofy fancy thing, because this was a garden party and not by any means a ball, but it was clingy and gauzy andā¦ well, just awkward. It had been so long since sheād worn anything but practical mercenary clothes that she seemed to have forgotten how to comport herself in anything formal, and she wished longingly for her Lionsā uniform, stowed safely above Rilienās shop for the moment.
This alone she might have been able to tolerate, but even worse was the fact that Rilien was following a few paces behind her and to the right, playing the part of attentive manservant, the brand on his head concealed and his mannerisms about as un-Tranquil as sheād ever seen them. He smiled and frowned and otherwise expressed himself on cues so perfectly-timed they felt downright unnatural to her, and it was beyond strange to have her teacher going to fetch her things or awaiting her instructions. But she knew this was what he had to do to be here, just like she had to make small talk to the other guests, sticking to a manufactured story about being distantly related to one of the other partygoers, a visiting cousin from the Imperium.
At least this wasnāt a dancing kind of party. She might actually die if she had to dance. Probably from falling into a rosebush and getting a cut somewhere really unlucky, if the embarrassment didnāt do her in first. They were slowly working the room, trying to get close to the host and hostess, for some clue as to what they might be looking for here. Rilien had coached her as succinctly as possible on the queries he needed her to make, but she knew it was largely up to her to actually make them, since a servant talking to the host would look incredibly out of place.
So sheād plastered a thin, serene smile on her face and resolved to do her best not to screw this up. Rilien was counting on her to be useful, and she didnāt need to remind herself that her own life might hang in the balance, too.
She wasnāt doing as badly as she imagined. At the very least, she looked exactly like a young noble lady, and there were certain instincts that had to be trained into a person that Estella simply seemed to have, such as posture. Rilien had already guessed that her family at least was of some stature in Tevinter, but he was now certain of it, though she spoke little of them. There was a natural quality to her that was eye-catching, and as someone with an appreciation for aesthetics, Rilien had to admire his own handiwork. Between the color of the dress and the small amount of cosmetic sheād consented to him applying, she looked every bit as noble as anyone here, and it was not unnoticed.
The restā¦ the rest needed some work, but she had yet to make any outright errors as such, and it was enough for their present purposes. She didnāt have to get herself invited to future social engagementsāthey merely needed to pass beneath the level of suspicion at this one, and so far, they were indeed doing that.
As for the actual task before them, he believed he had an inkling of what the answer might be. Upon their entrance onto the grounds of the Ackland estate, heād detected the faintest trace of magic. It was likely there was a mage somewhere on the grounds, though he knew not if this person was a guest or a member of the house. Under the guise of heading away to fetch Estella another drink, he took a quick turn about the garden itself, but no object or person was sticking out to him, which made it likely that whatever he was seeking would be in the manse itself. An inconvenience, but one they would have to find a way around, somehow.
On his way back from the refreshments, he took a quick survey of the immediate area. Lord and Lady Ackland, the latter being the person he took to be the mentioned āshe-wolfā, since her family records indicated she was the only current living female member of the house, were located near the gardenās central marble fountain, holding court in the way the hosts of these gatherings were wont to do. Their only living child, Matthias Ackland, was amid a cluster of younger people, those below thirty, telling what appeared to be a joke to sycophantic laughter. Nobody else was of particular significance, at least not to him. There were a few Comtes and Comtesses in the ranks of the guests, but none of them had familial ties to the Acklands.
"Lady Calligenia.ā He addressed Estella, giving her the opportunity to turn away from her current conversation for a moment to accept the champagne flute he held. When she leaned close enough to take it, he continued in a much lower tone. "Insinuate yourself with the sonās group.ā The parents were too occupied with people too important to interrupt just yet. But they could easily get into the other cluster.
Well. Perhaps easily was a relative term.
Estella barely resisted the urge to groan. This was not her area of expertise, and as someone who wasnāt really good at much of anything, to be markedly worse at this than everything else was really saying something. Sheād considered channeling Cyrus, but the point was to not get noticed that much, and she remembered him doing pretty much the opposite at all times. She didnāt have anything to go on in terms of remembering her motherās mannerisms, and so she was stuck trying to approximate the few courtiers sheād seen actually acting like courtiers.
Spine straight, shoulders back, placid smile, donāt stand like a mercenary. The complicated style of her hair was beginning to feel heavy on her head, and she knew it would turn into a headache quite shortly. She sipped from the champagne flute partly because it would look weird if she didnāt and partly because she felt like she needed it to get through this, but a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Rilien reminded her to keep her wits about her. She was going to need them.
She murmured some kind of platitude to extricate herself with minimal clumsiness from the current conversation, and was halfway through a beeline to the destination she wanted when she remembered she should probably be indirect. Awkwardly, she reoriented herself for a cluster of flowering bushes, as though sheād been intended to go stand next to them the whole time. Inwardly, she was just hoping no one had seen that. This was half a disaster already, and it had started only an hour ago! With a slightly-shaky hand, she raised the flute to her lips for another sip, staring a bit harder at the bushes than was probably warranted. Rilien seemed to have disappeared again.
Of course.
Rilien had indeed left again, this time in hopes of learning something useful from the other servants whilst Estella attempted to ply the nobles. Heād have to make back-and-forth trips with some frequency to ensure nothing was going too poorly on her end, but he did believe she could handle herself for the most part, though she was clearly uncomfortable with the idea and less than certain herself.
āHave the roses done something to offend you, milady?ā The voice, a touch amused, came from just behind Estella, and belonged, fortuitously enough, to the youngest Ackland, who appeared for the moment to have left the cluster of other younger nobles behind. He bore a wry half-smile, one blond eyebrow lofted slightly, likely at the face she was making at the flowering shrubs. āIāll admit theyāre a bit prickly, but I shouldnāt think them too dangerous if one is careful.ā
Estella, not moving her eyes from where they lay, responded automatically. āIād say something poetic about roses and thorns, but honestly Iām just more likely than most to trip and fall into the bush.ā A couple of seconds ticked by, and then the exchange actually clicked, and she whirled around to face the stranger, trying to think of the right words for accidentally forgetting toā¦ what? Filter her thoughts? Act like a lady? Was this even grounds for someone to be offended or was she overthinking it? Ugh, this was more difficult than it had any right to be. Talking to people was hard enough on its own, without any of this extraā¦ trouble.
āI, umā¦ sorry. That was rude. I didnāt thinkāā she cut herself off before she dug any deeper into whatever faux-pas this was, smiling thinly instead. On the upside, this was the person she was supposed to be talking to. On the downsideā¦ she may have ruined it already.
The nobleman waved a hand in dismissal, a smile playing over his features. āDonāt apologize. That might have been the most honest thing anyoneās said in my presence since this whole thing started.ā He shrugged diffidently. āBut where are my manners? Matthias Ackland, at your service.ā He crossed a hand over his chest and bowed slightly.
āOh, ah. Calligenia Valerius, milord. A pleasure.ā Still off-balance, Estella curtsied and attempted to hit her stride, retreating into the familiar, at least as far as conversational topics went. āIā¦ donāt actually have anything against roses in particular. I was just thinking about something else. Theyāre really quite nice.ā A corner of her mouth pulled upwards, and she felt her shoulders relax. Maybe she hadnāt done anything terribly rude yet after all.
Matthiasās expression brightened, as if some new thought had just dawned on him, one he quite liked. āWell, then you must see the rest. Perhaps I could interest you in a tour of the manse and its grounds?ā He smiled obligingly and offered his arm.
Estella blinked. Well, that wasnāt anything she was expecting, but it looked pretty much exactly like the opportunity she needed. Now all she had to do was find an excuse for Rilien to go along. Probably not difficultāescorts were normal with this kind of thing, right? Her brows knit together for a moment as she tried to remember, but she smoothed them out and looped her arm through Matthiasās. āThat sounds lovely. I hope you would not mind if my steward chaperones usāI would not wish to give my relatives cause for concern.ā
āOf course, of course.ā Almost as soon as Matthias had indicated his lack of concern about the matter, Rilien himself appeared, resuming a discreet distance from the two of them as they traversed the gardens. The servants had been oddly evasive with him, but not until heād started asking questions about any strange requests the lady of the house made for them. It was usually a topic they were happy to talk aboutāservants enjoyed complaining about the eccentricities of their employers, and lamenting the specificity of certain particularly ridiculous orders, but there was nothing like that here. Which led him to believe that something very strange going on, and the servants were somehow involved.
Fortunately, Estella had managed to gain them both access to the house via their solicitous host. He wondered exactly what her exit strategy was for this situation, then decided she likely didnāt have oneāwhich meant heād probably best come up with something when he could.
The tour, narrated with the occasional humorous anecdote by Matthias, eventually took them into the house itself, where he began explaining the construction process on the foyer before moving them in to what was apparently the east wing. Rilien didnāt think the house qualified as large enough to have full wings, but surmised that the young nobleman was trying to impress his apprentice, not an entirely uncommon reaction to the presence of an aesthetically-pleasing woman. In fact quite predictable, and one of several reasons Estellaās presence was useful to his aim here.
Rilien noted that while each of the doors in the east wing was opened and its interior explained, one door was left unremarked-upon, and it was therein that the magical signature of the house was strongest. There was no way to ask himself, of course, but then, he didnāt really need to, if Estella could distract Lord Ackland thoroughly enough that his absence would not be noticed. He made eye contact with her just briefly while she was in profile to him, and nodded to the nobleman, miming motion away with a subtle gesture.
Estellaās eyes went wide for a moment as she interpreted Rilienās signal, and she felt a brief moment of panic. The obvious way to get Matthias out of the way and disinclined to notice her teacherās absence was not something she was even close to comfortable with, and she didnāt like her chances of successfully seducing anyone. Even thinking about it was making her feel awkward again, and sheād been doing pretty well not showing it so far.
Soā¦ she needed to think of something else, and quickly. Maybe a specific room, something she could talk about enough to be distracting, and something not in this hallway. āMilord, does your family by chance have a library? I left my own behind at home, and I do find that Iāve missed it.ā
Matthias looked nonplussed for half a second, but he recovered quickly. āOf course. Itās over on the west side, and rather small, but we do have a collection of rare Chantry manuscripts, if youāve any interest in that sort of thingā¦ā Rilien slowed his footsteps, letting them disappear around a corner as Estella answered, and assumed that her conversation on a matter she had some expertise in as well as the tendency of nobility to ignore the presence or absence of servants would here serve him well.
The door of interest to him was, predictably, locked, but such a thing hardly constituted an obstacle to him, and he removed a small pick set from his sleeve, suitable for work on locks more delicate than strong. Checking the corridor, he knelt in front of the knob and worked the first pick into it, changing it when it proved slightly too fine. The second was what he was looking for though, and with most of the servants out in on the grounds or, presumably, in the kitchen, he knew he had little risk of discovery. It was far from the most difficult job heād ever had, but knowing the one whoād given it to him, there was a twist coming.
The door swung inwards, and the unique tang of magic prickled on the back of his tongue, almost like a flavor, acrid and sulfurous. It was utterly unlike those belonging to the people he knew, or even most of the enchanted objects heād run across. It didnāt have the feel of lyrium, not even the raw stuff, and Rilien felt a bare flicker of curiosity as he descended the stairs.
The staircase deposited him in what had once been a cellar, he supposed, though it was mostly bare at the moment. Following the sensation of magic, he rolled aside what appeared to be several barrels of ale. Judging from the marks on the floor, this was done with some regularity, which was a decent indication that he should try the same. It wasnāt especially difficult to push them off to either side, and doing so revealed an otherwise-hidden trapdoor in the cellar. Hauling it open, Rilien set it down quietly on the wood floor of the cellar and dropped himself down without hesitation, mindful of his landing.
The room he landed in was even dimmer than the cellar, but there were a couple of candles clustered together on an old wooden table with a single chair. The only other feature in the room was a large metal cage, the slight luminescence of the bars a clue to what was familiar to his senses: the bars were infused with lyrium. Inside them, shuffling around with a rattling of chains, was what appeared to be an ordinary enough human girl. She was blonde, or had been, but her hair was stringy and matted. The veins in her bare arms and along her neck were prominent, and a blackish violet, stark against fair skin. Her features might have been aristocratic once, but they were too thin and hollow now, the bones prominent and birdlike in their apparent delicacy.
What stood out above everything else though, was her left arm. Massive in proportion to her body, it was twisted, the flesh lumpy and reddened, her digits fused until there were only three, each tipped with an obsidian claw. It was no natural deformityāshe reeked of magic.
At his approach, her head snapped up, her eyes wide and frightened. She backed up against the opposite side of her cage, her misshapen arm held out before her almost as a form of defense.
āWho are you? Youāre not one of the servants.ā
Rilien did not respond immediately, studying the room, the bars of the cage, and the girl inside. The magic here felt sick, diseased, almost likeā¦
"Abomination.ā The word was ready to his tongue, the natural conclusion. But she was not like any abomination heād ever seen before. Perhaps her mutation was incomplete somehow, perhaps she was restricted by the size of her containment. It was hard to say. But this girl, whoever she was, had certainly once been a mage, yet the walls bore no evidence of escape attempts: no scorch marks, no water damage, nothing. In fact, though it was beyond sparse, it was quite neatly-kept. It would appear he had discovered what the servants were unwilling to talk about.
His eyes turned to the girlās face, scrutinizing her features. Blond hair, fair complexion, brown eyes. She shared coloration with both Matthias and his parents: the lady Acklandās hair and the lordās nose, among other things. But the only living child of the Acklands was supposed to be several floors above with Estella.
āYes.ā Her voice was a choked whisper, her smile more a cadaverās grimace than anything genuine. āI am that.ā
"Madeline Ackland.ā It was a guessāthe Acklands had two younger children than Matthias, both of whom were supposed to be dead. One was a stillborn, and so unlikely to be this girl. The other, however, had died as a young child, or so it was reported.
Her arm trembled, and she lowered it, approaching the bars. āIām that, too.ā The girl, or more accurately, the young woman, gripped the lyrium bar nearest her with her ordinary arm, but kept the other well away from it. He imagined it probably burned if it came into contact with the corrupted flesh. āBut who are you?ā
"I am no one.ā
She blinked at him, tilting her head to the side, her expression curiously childlike. Open, without any of the reserve he encountered in human adults. āThenā¦ will you stay? Iām not allowed to see anyone, mother says, and the servants donāt talk to me. They just leave me food and go. But if youāre no one, then Iām not breaking the rules, am I?ā
Rilien hesitated. He believed he had the information he required, and he should be getting back to Estella. They had what they needed, which meant it was time to go. Years ago, he wouldnāt have even thought twice about the request, just left her there to whatever miserable existence her half-life allowed. He shook his head slightly.
"I cannot stay long.ā A pause. He wanted to say something else, but was in the strange position of not knowing what it was.
Her face fell. āThenā¦ can I ask a favor of you, for when you leave?ā
He considered it for a moment, then inclined his head in acquiescence.
Her eyes hit the ground at his feet and did not move. She spoke slowly, enunciating every word as though she had practiced them. āWhen you leave, will youā¦ will you tell the Templars where I amāwhat I am?ā
"They will kill you.ā His reply was flat, with no room for speculation. She may yet have a human face and a human voice, but she was at least partway to being an abomination, and had been down here for close to ten years, if he had his guess. Since sheād been reported dead.
āI hope so.ā The rasping whisper was stronger on that sentence, and she looked back up at him. āMother says I must live for her, butā¦ but he is in my head, and sometimesā¦ sometimes he hurts the servants, when they come to bring me food or change my buckets. I donātā¦ I donāt want to be like this anymore. I donāt want to hear him anymore. I just want it to be quiet.ā
Rilien considered it. He wasnāt sure if he was meant to pass along this information to anyone else, butā¦ he would not leave her here, like this. There was another possible solution, one not likely to earn him favor with his taskmaster, but one not outside of her parameters. "If you wish to die, I will do it myself.ā
The pained expression on Madelineās face became an actual smile, if a bit tinged with irony. āI think that may be the kindest thing anyoneās ever said to me.ā He approached her bars, and she knelt, pulling her thick, greasy mat of hair over to one side such that the back of her neck was exposed. Rilien moved one of his concealed knives into his hand, reaching through the bars and plunging it downwards even as whatever demon was possessing her tried to force a more complete transformation for her protection. But either she suppressed it or he was too quick, because the knife met no resistance as he punched it into her spinal cord, ending her life nearly instantaneously.
Choosing to take the knife, lest one of the servants be blamed for supplying it, he left the room behind, climbing up and back out into the cellar, calmly rolling the barrels back into place, listening at the door before stepping back out into the hallway, and then heading down the corridor where heād last seen Estella.
His first task was complete.
Firstly, she was wearing a gown. It definitely wasnāt hers, but she hadnāt bothered to ask Rilien where heād procured it on such short notice. He had people for everything, she suspected. It wasnāt a big floofy fancy thing, because this was a garden party and not by any means a ball, but it was clingy and gauzy andā¦ well, just awkward. It had been so long since sheād worn anything but practical mercenary clothes that she seemed to have forgotten how to comport herself in anything formal, and she wished longingly for her Lionsā uniform, stowed safely above Rilienās shop for the moment.
This alone she might have been able to tolerate, but even worse was the fact that Rilien was following a few paces behind her and to the right, playing the part of attentive manservant, the brand on his head concealed and his mannerisms about as un-Tranquil as sheād ever seen them. He smiled and frowned and otherwise expressed himself on cues so perfectly-timed they felt downright unnatural to her, and it was beyond strange to have her teacher going to fetch her things or awaiting her instructions. But she knew this was what he had to do to be here, just like she had to make small talk to the other guests, sticking to a manufactured story about being distantly related to one of the other partygoers, a visiting cousin from the Imperium.
At least this wasnāt a dancing kind of party. She might actually die if she had to dance. Probably from falling into a rosebush and getting a cut somewhere really unlucky, if the embarrassment didnāt do her in first. They were slowly working the room, trying to get close to the host and hostess, for some clue as to what they might be looking for here. Rilien had coached her as succinctly as possible on the queries he needed her to make, but she knew it was largely up to her to actually make them, since a servant talking to the host would look incredibly out of place.
So sheād plastered a thin, serene smile on her face and resolved to do her best not to screw this up. Rilien was counting on her to be useful, and she didnāt need to remind herself that her own life might hang in the balance, too.
She wasnāt doing as badly as she imagined. At the very least, she looked exactly like a young noble lady, and there were certain instincts that had to be trained into a person that Estella simply seemed to have, such as posture. Rilien had already guessed that her family at least was of some stature in Tevinter, but he was now certain of it, though she spoke little of them. There was a natural quality to her that was eye-catching, and as someone with an appreciation for aesthetics, Rilien had to admire his own handiwork. Between the color of the dress and the small amount of cosmetic sheād consented to him applying, she looked every bit as noble as anyone here, and it was not unnoticed.
The restā¦ the rest needed some work, but she had yet to make any outright errors as such, and it was enough for their present purposes. She didnāt have to get herself invited to future social engagementsāthey merely needed to pass beneath the level of suspicion at this one, and so far, they were indeed doing that.
As for the actual task before them, he believed he had an inkling of what the answer might be. Upon their entrance onto the grounds of the Ackland estate, heād detected the faintest trace of magic. It was likely there was a mage somewhere on the grounds, though he knew not if this person was a guest or a member of the house. Under the guise of heading away to fetch Estella another drink, he took a quick turn about the garden itself, but no object or person was sticking out to him, which made it likely that whatever he was seeking would be in the manse itself. An inconvenience, but one they would have to find a way around, somehow.
On his way back from the refreshments, he took a quick survey of the immediate area. Lord and Lady Ackland, the latter being the person he took to be the mentioned āshe-wolfā, since her family records indicated she was the only current living female member of the house, were located near the gardenās central marble fountain, holding court in the way the hosts of these gatherings were wont to do. Their only living child, Matthias Ackland, was amid a cluster of younger people, those below thirty, telling what appeared to be a joke to sycophantic laughter. Nobody else was of particular significance, at least not to him. There were a few Comtes and Comtesses in the ranks of the guests, but none of them had familial ties to the Acklands.
"Lady Calligenia.ā He addressed Estella, giving her the opportunity to turn away from her current conversation for a moment to accept the champagne flute he held. When she leaned close enough to take it, he continued in a much lower tone. "Insinuate yourself with the sonās group.ā The parents were too occupied with people too important to interrupt just yet. But they could easily get into the other cluster.
Well. Perhaps easily was a relative term.
Estella barely resisted the urge to groan. This was not her area of expertise, and as someone who wasnāt really good at much of anything, to be markedly worse at this than everything else was really saying something. Sheād considered channeling Cyrus, but the point was to not get noticed that much, and she remembered him doing pretty much the opposite at all times. She didnāt have anything to go on in terms of remembering her motherās mannerisms, and so she was stuck trying to approximate the few courtiers sheād seen actually acting like courtiers.
Spine straight, shoulders back, placid smile, donāt stand like a mercenary. The complicated style of her hair was beginning to feel heavy on her head, and she knew it would turn into a headache quite shortly. She sipped from the champagne flute partly because it would look weird if she didnāt and partly because she felt like she needed it to get through this, but a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Rilien reminded her to keep her wits about her. She was going to need them.
She murmured some kind of platitude to extricate herself with minimal clumsiness from the current conversation, and was halfway through a beeline to the destination she wanted when she remembered she should probably be indirect. Awkwardly, she reoriented herself for a cluster of flowering bushes, as though sheād been intended to go stand next to them the whole time. Inwardly, she was just hoping no one had seen that. This was half a disaster already, and it had started only an hour ago! With a slightly-shaky hand, she raised the flute to her lips for another sip, staring a bit harder at the bushes than was probably warranted. Rilien seemed to have disappeared again.
Of course.
Rilien had indeed left again, this time in hopes of learning something useful from the other servants whilst Estella attempted to ply the nobles. Heād have to make back-and-forth trips with some frequency to ensure nothing was going too poorly on her end, but he did believe she could handle herself for the most part, though she was clearly uncomfortable with the idea and less than certain herself.
āHave the roses done something to offend you, milady?ā The voice, a touch amused, came from just behind Estella, and belonged, fortuitously enough, to the youngest Ackland, who appeared for the moment to have left the cluster of other younger nobles behind. He bore a wry half-smile, one blond eyebrow lofted slightly, likely at the face she was making at the flowering shrubs. āIāll admit theyāre a bit prickly, but I shouldnāt think them too dangerous if one is careful.ā
Estella, not moving her eyes from where they lay, responded automatically. āIād say something poetic about roses and thorns, but honestly Iām just more likely than most to trip and fall into the bush.ā A couple of seconds ticked by, and then the exchange actually clicked, and she whirled around to face the stranger, trying to think of the right words for accidentally forgetting toā¦ what? Filter her thoughts? Act like a lady? Was this even grounds for someone to be offended or was she overthinking it? Ugh, this was more difficult than it had any right to be. Talking to people was hard enough on its own, without any of this extraā¦ trouble.
āI, umā¦ sorry. That was rude. I didnāt thinkāā she cut herself off before she dug any deeper into whatever faux-pas this was, smiling thinly instead. On the upside, this was the person she was supposed to be talking to. On the downsideā¦ she may have ruined it already.
The nobleman waved a hand in dismissal, a smile playing over his features. āDonāt apologize. That might have been the most honest thing anyoneās said in my presence since this whole thing started.ā He shrugged diffidently. āBut where are my manners? Matthias Ackland, at your service.ā He crossed a hand over his chest and bowed slightly.
āOh, ah. Calligenia Valerius, milord. A pleasure.ā Still off-balance, Estella curtsied and attempted to hit her stride, retreating into the familiar, at least as far as conversational topics went. āIā¦ donāt actually have anything against roses in particular. I was just thinking about something else. Theyāre really quite nice.ā A corner of her mouth pulled upwards, and she felt her shoulders relax. Maybe she hadnāt done anything terribly rude yet after all.
Matthiasās expression brightened, as if some new thought had just dawned on him, one he quite liked. āWell, then you must see the rest. Perhaps I could interest you in a tour of the manse and its grounds?ā He smiled obligingly and offered his arm.
Estella blinked. Well, that wasnāt anything she was expecting, but it looked pretty much exactly like the opportunity she needed. Now all she had to do was find an excuse for Rilien to go along. Probably not difficultāescorts were normal with this kind of thing, right? Her brows knit together for a moment as she tried to remember, but she smoothed them out and looped her arm through Matthiasās. āThat sounds lovely. I hope you would not mind if my steward chaperones usāI would not wish to give my relatives cause for concern.ā
āOf course, of course.ā Almost as soon as Matthias had indicated his lack of concern about the matter, Rilien himself appeared, resuming a discreet distance from the two of them as they traversed the gardens. The servants had been oddly evasive with him, but not until heād started asking questions about any strange requests the lady of the house made for them. It was usually a topic they were happy to talk aboutāservants enjoyed complaining about the eccentricities of their employers, and lamenting the specificity of certain particularly ridiculous orders, but there was nothing like that here. Which led him to believe that something very strange going on, and the servants were somehow involved.
Fortunately, Estella had managed to gain them both access to the house via their solicitous host. He wondered exactly what her exit strategy was for this situation, then decided she likely didnāt have oneāwhich meant heād probably best come up with something when he could.
The tour, narrated with the occasional humorous anecdote by Matthias, eventually took them into the house itself, where he began explaining the construction process on the foyer before moving them in to what was apparently the east wing. Rilien didnāt think the house qualified as large enough to have full wings, but surmised that the young nobleman was trying to impress his apprentice, not an entirely uncommon reaction to the presence of an aesthetically-pleasing woman. In fact quite predictable, and one of several reasons Estellaās presence was useful to his aim here.
Rilien noted that while each of the doors in the east wing was opened and its interior explained, one door was left unremarked-upon, and it was therein that the magical signature of the house was strongest. There was no way to ask himself, of course, but then, he didnāt really need to, if Estella could distract Lord Ackland thoroughly enough that his absence would not be noticed. He made eye contact with her just briefly while she was in profile to him, and nodded to the nobleman, miming motion away with a subtle gesture.
Estellaās eyes went wide for a moment as she interpreted Rilienās signal, and she felt a brief moment of panic. The obvious way to get Matthias out of the way and disinclined to notice her teacherās absence was not something she was even close to comfortable with, and she didnāt like her chances of successfully seducing anyone. Even thinking about it was making her feel awkward again, and sheād been doing pretty well not showing it so far.
Soā¦ she needed to think of something else, and quickly. Maybe a specific room, something she could talk about enough to be distracting, and something not in this hallway. āMilord, does your family by chance have a library? I left my own behind at home, and I do find that Iāve missed it.ā
Matthias looked nonplussed for half a second, but he recovered quickly. āOf course. Itās over on the west side, and rather small, but we do have a collection of rare Chantry manuscripts, if youāve any interest in that sort of thingā¦ā Rilien slowed his footsteps, letting them disappear around a corner as Estella answered, and assumed that her conversation on a matter she had some expertise in as well as the tendency of nobility to ignore the presence or absence of servants would here serve him well.
The door of interest to him was, predictably, locked, but such a thing hardly constituted an obstacle to him, and he removed a small pick set from his sleeve, suitable for work on locks more delicate than strong. Checking the corridor, he knelt in front of the knob and worked the first pick into it, changing it when it proved slightly too fine. The second was what he was looking for though, and with most of the servants out in on the grounds or, presumably, in the kitchen, he knew he had little risk of discovery. It was far from the most difficult job heād ever had, but knowing the one whoād given it to him, there was a twist coming.
The door swung inwards, and the unique tang of magic prickled on the back of his tongue, almost like a flavor, acrid and sulfurous. It was utterly unlike those belonging to the people he knew, or even most of the enchanted objects heād run across. It didnāt have the feel of lyrium, not even the raw stuff, and Rilien felt a bare flicker of curiosity as he descended the stairs.
The staircase deposited him in what had once been a cellar, he supposed, though it was mostly bare at the moment. Following the sensation of magic, he rolled aside what appeared to be several barrels of ale. Judging from the marks on the floor, this was done with some regularity, which was a decent indication that he should try the same. It wasnāt especially difficult to push them off to either side, and doing so revealed an otherwise-hidden trapdoor in the cellar. Hauling it open, Rilien set it down quietly on the wood floor of the cellar and dropped himself down without hesitation, mindful of his landing.
The room he landed in was even dimmer than the cellar, but there were a couple of candles clustered together on an old wooden table with a single chair. The only other feature in the room was a large metal cage, the slight luminescence of the bars a clue to what was familiar to his senses: the bars were infused with lyrium. Inside them, shuffling around with a rattling of chains, was what appeared to be an ordinary enough human girl. She was blonde, or had been, but her hair was stringy and matted. The veins in her bare arms and along her neck were prominent, and a blackish violet, stark against fair skin. Her features might have been aristocratic once, but they were too thin and hollow now, the bones prominent and birdlike in their apparent delicacy.
What stood out above everything else though, was her left arm. Massive in proportion to her body, it was twisted, the flesh lumpy and reddened, her digits fused until there were only three, each tipped with an obsidian claw. It was no natural deformityāshe reeked of magic.
At his approach, her head snapped up, her eyes wide and frightened. She backed up against the opposite side of her cage, her misshapen arm held out before her almost as a form of defense.
āWho are you? Youāre not one of the servants.ā
Rilien did not respond immediately, studying the room, the bars of the cage, and the girl inside. The magic here felt sick, diseased, almost likeā¦
"Abomination.ā The word was ready to his tongue, the natural conclusion. But she was not like any abomination heād ever seen before. Perhaps her mutation was incomplete somehow, perhaps she was restricted by the size of her containment. It was hard to say. But this girl, whoever she was, had certainly once been a mage, yet the walls bore no evidence of escape attempts: no scorch marks, no water damage, nothing. In fact, though it was beyond sparse, it was quite neatly-kept. It would appear he had discovered what the servants were unwilling to talk about.
His eyes turned to the girlās face, scrutinizing her features. Blond hair, fair complexion, brown eyes. She shared coloration with both Matthias and his parents: the lady Acklandās hair and the lordās nose, among other things. But the only living child of the Acklands was supposed to be several floors above with Estella.
āYes.ā Her voice was a choked whisper, her smile more a cadaverās grimace than anything genuine. āI am that.ā
"Madeline Ackland.ā It was a guessāthe Acklands had two younger children than Matthias, both of whom were supposed to be dead. One was a stillborn, and so unlikely to be this girl. The other, however, had died as a young child, or so it was reported.
Her arm trembled, and she lowered it, approaching the bars. āIām that, too.ā The girl, or more accurately, the young woman, gripped the lyrium bar nearest her with her ordinary arm, but kept the other well away from it. He imagined it probably burned if it came into contact with the corrupted flesh. āBut who are you?ā
"I am no one.ā
She blinked at him, tilting her head to the side, her expression curiously childlike. Open, without any of the reserve he encountered in human adults. āThenā¦ will you stay? Iām not allowed to see anyone, mother says, and the servants donāt talk to me. They just leave me food and go. But if youāre no one, then Iām not breaking the rules, am I?ā
Rilien hesitated. He believed he had the information he required, and he should be getting back to Estella. They had what they needed, which meant it was time to go. Years ago, he wouldnāt have even thought twice about the request, just left her there to whatever miserable existence her half-life allowed. He shook his head slightly.
"I cannot stay long.ā A pause. He wanted to say something else, but was in the strange position of not knowing what it was.
Her face fell. āThenā¦ can I ask a favor of you, for when you leave?ā
He considered it for a moment, then inclined his head in acquiescence.
Her eyes hit the ground at his feet and did not move. She spoke slowly, enunciating every word as though she had practiced them. āWhen you leave, will youā¦ will you tell the Templars where I amāwhat I am?ā
"They will kill you.ā His reply was flat, with no room for speculation. She may yet have a human face and a human voice, but she was at least partway to being an abomination, and had been down here for close to ten years, if he had his guess. Since sheād been reported dead.
āI hope so.ā The rasping whisper was stronger on that sentence, and she looked back up at him. āMother says I must live for her, butā¦ but he is in my head, and sometimesā¦ sometimes he hurts the servants, when they come to bring me food or change my buckets. I donātā¦ I donāt want to be like this anymore. I donāt want to hear him anymore. I just want it to be quiet.ā
Rilien considered it. He wasnāt sure if he was meant to pass along this information to anyone else, butā¦ he would not leave her here, like this. There was another possible solution, one not likely to earn him favor with his taskmaster, but one not outside of her parameters. "If you wish to die, I will do it myself.ā
The pained expression on Madelineās face became an actual smile, if a bit tinged with irony. āI think that may be the kindest thing anyoneās ever said to me.ā He approached her bars, and she knelt, pulling her thick, greasy mat of hair over to one side such that the back of her neck was exposed. Rilien moved one of his concealed knives into his hand, reaching through the bars and plunging it downwards even as whatever demon was possessing her tried to force a more complete transformation for her protection. But either she suppressed it or he was too quick, because the knife met no resistance as he punched it into her spinal cord, ending her life nearly instantaneously.
Choosing to take the knife, lest one of the servants be blamed for supplying it, he left the room behind, climbing up and back out into the cellar, calmly rolling the barrels back into place, listening at the door before stepping back out into the hallway, and then heading down the corridor where heād last seen Estella.
His first task was complete.