The inhabitants of the tower of the circle of magi notice a change in Ser Alrik. He's still the creepy, stoic and imposing man he always was, but there is a definite change. He was always the type to stare at the mages, especially the female ones (which soured his reputation among mages and Templar alike). But lately he has been looking at everybody, staring unabashedly at men, women, mages and templars. Some people think they notice him smiling ever so slightly, but they are never brazen enough to stare back and make sure.

Hawke is having a hard time making sure her new thrall behaves.

The demon Violation is a fickle servant, and highly untrustworthy. Yes, Violation is bound by oath to obey her every command, but desire demons are master manipulators. Hawke has killed enough of them to know.

Still, beggars can't be choosers, and despite how much creepier it makes Alrik seem (that smile) there's no denying how useful it is to have a demon thrall.

She tries not to make their association obvious. Nobody will assume that he's possessed, but they can assume other things. She doesn't want any more rumors getting like the ones about her and Tolfdir. So while she can make Alrik support her bid to become a senior enchanter, he must also "take her down a peg" by berating her in public. While he can suppress templar on mage violence as much as possible, he must also cartoonishly debate for the tranquil solution.

For the most part Violation is submissive, but like any demon it will take certain liberties Hawke would rather it not. This isn't guesswork, its certainty.

It hasn't done this yet, but Hawke knows that it will. The best thing to do is watch it in silence and keep its will firmly chained to hers.

The task is exhausting.

Alrik walks with a certain stiffness. Or rather, he doesn't quite walk so much as he stalks, like an executioner making his way to the doldrums the noose. He does this stiffly. Violation rather fancies it copies this stiffness well.

Sifting through the man's memories, Violation also knows that Alrik carries his sword in his hand if he can help it, the scabbard clasped firmly in between his fingers for ease-of-access. He keeps his moustache shaved in a certain way. If he desired to, he could actually grow a respectable head of hair, though out of some monastic instinct has kept it shaved for years.

Violation also knows that the man has certain ideas about mages, and certain ideas about women. These are delectable morsels of thought that Violation chews on when it isn't pretending to be Alrik, but otherwise it doesn't share. The mistress Hawke probably wouldn't appreciate hearing about them, not that she doesn't already know. Alrik, Violation well knows, was not a very well-behaved man.

But he was a self-righteous man, and he wore his character on his sleeve (on his pant-legs and groin more like) and Violation has done a very good job at keeping up appearances. Sometimes it meets Hawke's eyes from across the room and Violation knows that its mistress is pleased.

Being under the mistress's supervision can be oppressive. Even when she isn't in the room Violation can feel her reaching for it, thin feelers of sensation brushing up against it being just to make sure that everything is alright. It speaks of deep-set mistrust.

It's no surprise. To listen to the mages talk demons are monsters hungry to cross into the waking world and devour virgins. Are they? Violation isn't sure. In the Fade there was just a certainty, a constant desire to see the waking world and experience the wonders that lie there. What happened when that was achieved…none of them were entirely sure.

But now in a mortal body, Violation can feel wonders all around it. As a desire demon it is attuned to the constant ache of mortal desire; a cacophony of constant echoes reverberating across the multitude of mortal consciousness. The most dowdy chantry priest longs for meaning in a monotone life. The most dedicated mage stews in fantasies of revenge towards his Templar captors. And the Templars themselves constantly wish for more lyrium, addicts all of them.

So many different flavors of desire; Violation wants to sample them all, bring them to fruition, and then consume the apoplexy of still more desire until the one who desired in the first place is spent and withered. And after that? Violation would hunger for more.

No wonder so many demons go mad in the waking world.

But the mistress's hold on Violation is strong. Very strong. It is limiting, but there is a kind of clarity in complete submission and the compulsions that would have otherwise dominated Violation's demon mind are not so pronounced. Yes, this means it is limited, but it also means it has the presence of mind to make informed decisions.

From across the table Meredith frowns at it.

"You want to go to Darktown? Why?"

Meredith is a suspicious person. Her desires are pure zealotry; a thirst for justice and the destruction of all that demons touch. But she has an iron will. She wields her paranoia like a weapon, but doesn't let it get away from her. But even now Violation can feel her control slipping.

Violation keeps a straight face, as Alrik would. "There are reports of the mage underground operating in Darktown. I would like to investigate"

She scoffs. "One look at you and any mages that might be there will scurry to the shadows. There's no point to this"

"As you say. Even so, I think it would behoove us to get a fresh perspective on the way things are working in Kirkwall. Things are changing very quickly. It would be to our benefit if we had more ears to the ground"

"You're going to get in contact with your old lyrium providers I take it?"

Lyrium providers? Violation ransacks Alriks memory. Ah, the Coterie thugs that used to sell him cheap lyrium. If Alrik were really here then he would be surprised, so Violation feigns surprise. It lets Alrik's mouth open and his eyes widen, but it schools the expression as if covering up for itself. "Not this time, Knight-Commander. I was thinking I would go incognito"

She quirks her eyebrow. "Why?"

"The discovery of the maleficar in the Gallows caverns was a wake-up call. We can't always expect to root out apostates with the traditional shock-and-awe approach. I have been especially remiss in this regard. Therefore I wish to reacquaint myself with the world in which the apostate mage hides itself"

Meredith nods appreciatively. "Very well. You know that you could have done this without informing me"

Violation fights down its apprehension. "I thought that since the incident with Hawke-"

"Thank you for telling me in any case. I appreciate the initiative, but you needn't subject yourself to useless micro-management. I trust you"

"Thank you Knight-Commander." As an afterthought Violation bows, slightly, rigidly, like Alrik would. It is appropriately awkward. Alrik had never done well with formalities. Meredith evaluates him for a moment before nodding in dismissal.

Alrik has memories of Darktown, perhaps more than a respectable Templar should. Months ago he was here buying lyrium. He had been doing this for a while now, ever since his commanding officer had shown him how on one of his first patrols. "Maleficars don't play fair, that's why we seek every advantage we can get," The officer had said.

Words to live by, apparently.

In Darktown Violation can be someone other than Alrik. It can wander about in rags that are a far cry from Alrik's armor, and it can walk any way it likes. There are clusters of people here, as with many parts of Kirkwall, but there isn't the same beautiful cadence of desire that makes the rest of the city so beautiful. Here people huddle together in mutual misery as much a part of the filthy environment as the waste and dilapidation. They have desire in them, but it's dulled. Gray.

There is something about this city. Something about the winding passageways and architecture that hints at something more. They say that the veil is thin here, and Violation can feel it. There are the faint echoes of its siblings in the fade, slavering over the waking world like starving people over a pig. Was violation ever like that? No. Certainly not. Desire demons are too dignified to be rabid. Leave that to Rage, Pride and Hunger.

Ah! There is a tingling sensation at the forefront of its thoughts, a gentle but insistent tug at her awareness. Hawke, checking in once again. The mistress must have some experience with spiritual connections, Violation is certain she wouldn't otherwise be able to reach this far. The demon reaches back with its own tendrils of mental sensation, aiming for reassurance. Hawke stops with her nagging, albeit reluctantly.

An urchin child approaches Violation with a tin cup extended. Violation doesn't move, staring down impassively. The child does not waver in its path, stumbling ever forward until it bumps into Alrik's leg. If the man was still in control of his body he would have cuffed the boy, but Violation is curious. It watches.

The child jumps back in fright. "Sorry Messere!"

The child looks up at Violation's chest. Its eyes are a milky white. Blind.

"Be careful where you tread, boy." Violation attempts to walk past but is stopped when the child grips its robes.

"Ah! Ser!"

Violation seizes the fabric away from the child's hand. He flinches, but calms down when Violation speaks to him in an even tone. Not kind, but not cruel either. "What is it?"

The child hesitates, but seizes on the opportunity. "As you can see, I am blind, ser. I am looking for the red lantern clinic, where the mage healer lives. Do you know where it is?"

Volation considers. "I do not know for certain. But I passed a hovel not long ago with a red lantern in front. Perhaps that is it?"

"Could you show me?"

"I suppose I could. Yes"

The child holds out his hand. Violation takes it with only the slightest moment's consideration. They walk at a slow pace to accommodate the child's short legs.

"You trust too easily"

"Do you think so?"

"I could easily have been a person with ill intentions"

"I know all about that kind of stuff ser. My older brother made sure I was always careful when he was alive. I may be blind, but I can tell when a person is trustworthy or not"

"Indeed?"

"Oh yes. If you were a bad person I would already be dead or worse right now. In Darktown you don't need to lure children anywhere really, you can just kill them where you find them and nobody will be the wiser"

"You are a strange child"

"It's just called being realistic. With big brother dead I probably won't live long anyway. There's no sense in being reserved about these things"

"Why do you seek out the healer? To cure your blindness?"

"Oh no. I'm already resigned to a life of misery. Giving me sight would just give me hope I don't got no business having. Besides, from what I can understand my living situation isn't pleasant to look at anyway. I seek the mage because I need someone to heal my mother"

"What is she afflicted with?"

"I don't know. I was hoping the healer could tell me that"

Out of occupational pride Violation offers to fix the problem itself.

"You can do that? Are you a mage as well?"

"No. Something else"

"Something else? That sounds...No, as I said, I don't want a cure"

"Not even for your mother?"

"I know about the healer mage ser. He's honorable. I don't know about you"

It's probably better this way. What could a blind child offer? His body and soul? Violation already has that in Alrik. Freedom? Somehow Violation doubts the child would be an adequate tool to get Violation out of its contract.

"We are here"

The supposed clinic is a hovel. Not much more than a hole in the wall kept shut by sheets of metal haphazardly piled against the openings. The red lantern is there, burning brightly as a beacon in the perpetual gloom of Darktown. Violation hadn't bothered to check earlier, but it can detect traces of magic from inside. This is definitely the place.

It knocks on the door. When no-one comes it knocks more insistently.

A voice from the other side: "Who's there?"

"There is a child here who seeks aid for his mother"

"Is his mother here?"

"No," Says the child, "But she's not far from here. I can show you the way"

The door opens, revealing a man in unkempt robes. He looks haggard, as if he hasn't slept for a long time. He is the man who was there when Violation was brought into this world. Anders recognizes Alrik's face and is instantly on guard; he pulls his staff to him and assumes an aggressive stance.

"You. Why are you here?"

"I was showing this child to your doorstep, nothing more"

"Truly? I find that hard to believe, demon. How do I know you aren't controlling him?"

"If I wanted any more souls than the one I have, I wouldn't go looking for substandard hosts that can't see, or ones that are already occupied." This it says with a pointed look.

"That's different"

"I am not here to debate semantics. I am here to bring this child and nothing more"

"By all means," Says the child, "keep discussing. It's all going over my head anyhow"

"You are not here at Hawke's behest?" Asks Anders.

Violation laughs. It isn't Alrik's laugh. It is all Violation's own, and comes out more as a feminine giggle, making it that much more disturbing. "My lady would rather I stay in the tower feigning piety. No, I am not here for her"

"When will she learn all this dark magic is more trouble than it's worth?" Anders mutters to himself.

"On the contrary I have been very helpful to her. She is an enchanter now. She teaches spirit magic to the younger mages"

Anders goggles at it, then h despite himself. "Hawke, an enchanter? Teaching apprentices and the like? I'd pay to see that"

"Contrary to your mockery, she has taken well to the role"

"Is that so? Am I mistaking you or is there some pride in your voice"

"Naturally. I would not submit to someone who isn't impressive"

Anders frowns. "No matter. You will betray her sooner or later. It is in your nature"

Violation smiles, parting Alrik's mouth just a bit too wide than is natural. If Anders finds it unsettling he doesn't show it. "You're one to talk. For all your sanctimony you are as much an abomination as I"

Anders scowls. "Enough of this." He looks to the child, "Show me to your mother so I can be rid of this one." As he walks away he turns and regards Violation one more time. "Hawke has killed dozens of desire demons already. Keep that in mind as you plot for your freedom"

Later, Violation finds itself in Hawketown. An interesting place, much like Lowtown only remarkably more orderly. The desires of the people here are stunted, but they are beginning to flourish. Soon it will be a magnificent garden of different desires.

Tal-Vashoth struggle to find purpose in this world that is perhaps filled with too many possibilities. What would it be like to possess a Tal-Vashoth or a Serabaas? Would it be much different than a human? Would the contours fill out much the same or would there be a different feel to the meat-suit? The temptation of those thoughts is interrupted by the stinging pain of Hawke's contract, hot needles to the brain. For a creature unused to having organs the feeling is acutely painful.

Violation forces itself to calm down, lest the magic somehow signal Hawke all the way back in the circle.

Violation will walk for a time, and it will watch. The world is beautiful, and for the day Violation isn't done with its explorations. On the street it passes an elf hotly stalking in the other direction, a troop of mercenaries o his heels. Violation watches him pass, feels the exhilaration in the elf's tread and the anticipation in his intent. Before wandering off, Violation wonders what that elf is up to.

Hawke calls, stronger than before, and Violation consigns itself to returning a little earlier than it had intended.

Fenris leads his group of Coalition warriors out of Hawketown, into the hills of the Marches. Hadriana is in Kirkwall, or near Kirkwall anyway, and Fenris knows that he won't be able to think straight until he finds her and makes her dead.

Being a lieutenant in the vast criminal organization meant that he found himself quite suddenly becoming a man of spectacular means, not only living in a Hightown mansion, but suddenly able to afford furnishing it as well (and many things besides). But Fenris is a man with a narrow set of passions: he dislikes slavers, and he dislikes mages. Much of his earnings go towards funding Chantry programs to promote anti-slavery that send priests to the poorer areas of the city and raise slavery awareness. They teach people how to recognize the signs; young women suddenly offered promising jobs far away, men who leave their families to undertake labor in another city.

It is a matter near and dear to his own heart, but he is no aid worker. He is a warrior, and a vicious one at that. So when he isn't doing his coalition duties and making sure his donations are used wisely, he spends his time either lazing about in his home or Hawketown, or making sport of hunting down slaver operations in the city.

More Tevinter assassins have died trying to kill him while in Hawke's employ than they ever had before. Fenris supposes that must mean he's doing something right.

It was on the way to a hunt that he was suddenly waylaid on the wounded coast by a band of slavers who sought him of all people. Isabella happened to be with him at the time, as well as a few of her Tal-Vashoth honor guard, and they made short work of them.

And that's how he learned of Hadriana.

He leads his soldiers out of the city. They are loyal men and women, galvanized by his zeal and power. They remind him of the fog warriors.

That gives him pause. He got the fog warriors killed. Killed them himself in fact, because he didn't know any better. Could he be doing the same thing here?

His soldiers accept him so thoroughly. Some of them have even invited him to dinner with their families. He always refuses, but the thought means more to him than he ever lets on.

Against a magister, how many of them would die? Will they be sufficiently prepared? Some have faced abominations before but nothing can really prepare them for a battle against a Tevinter magister.

"Sir?"

"What is it!?" He snaps.

"You've stopped"

So he has. Not ten paces outside the city gates and he's stopped in his tracks. His soldiers look on with concern.

"I…"

Think of them. Think of their families. You're not in this alone, whether you like it or not.

"…Perhaps I was too rash. We should go back. Regroup." Think logistically, like Hawke. How many men does he really need? What are the advantages to taking a large group that can overwhelm compared to a small group that can infiltrate? There will be mages among the enemy. Not having one on his side will be a great disadvantage. He can't turn to Hawke this time, which means…

Fenris grits his teeth. He will NOT grovel to abominations and blood mages for help! Not even for…

He isn't alone. He isn't responsible for just himself.

He points at a portion of the group. "You lot, wait here at the gates. Be ready. The rest of you report back to Hawketown"

"What's wrong captain?"

"I…will need to find someone"

The Coalition has made the lives of many elves better, but that doesn't change the fact that they live in a society that is dominated by humans, which means that life is still pretty shit. Yes, there may be rising examples of success such as the elf Feynriel, but it takes more than a handful of moderately wealthy elves to make enact sweeping change.

Merrill used to daydream about newfound glory for the People; of harnessing the power of the Eluvian to elevate their station not just in the Dales, but the cities as well. It was easier to stay focused when daydreams were all she had to give her purpose. Demons and blood magic notwithstanding, it's hard to focus on an ancient relic when people are constantly outside her door asking her to resolve problems she hasn't an idea how to deal with.

Ownership disputes, petty issues, matters of trade and fair play; Merrill may have studied to become a Keeper, but she is certain that Marethari never had to deal with this kind of stuff. She's asked Isabella for help, but Isabella seems pleased that Merrill is too distracted to focus on her mirror ("Anything to get you away from that blasted mirror, Kitten"). Feynriel might have been a good choice, but he has become maddeningly reclusive as of late.

Varric is of the same mind, and only helps her out when she's overwhelmed.

Creators, why do the Dalish look down on the city elves so? They suffer so much in the cities, languishing in the slums and refuse of humans, humans that evaluate them as just a little higher than slaves. If only they could re-connect with nature as their Dalish cousins do…but then again, after so much time among the Shemlen they probably wouldn't know how.

A knock at the door interrupts her reading. Again. It's only been an hour since the last one.

She considers shouting at them to come back later, but reconsiders and pretends not to be home instead. The knocking continues. It intensifies. Then it stops.

Confident that they must have given up and left, Merrill relines in her chair. It creaks very loudly and she winces. The knocking starts up again.

"I know you're in there!"

"Fenris!?" She gets up and opens the door. Sure enough, the dour elf stands there a stiff expression he uses with her. "What are you doing here?" She asks unwelcomingly, a tone of voice that she reserves for him.

"I need your help"

She cocks her brow, "Is this something for Isabella?"

"No"

"Then what makes you think I would ever help you?"

"I'll pay you"

"Fenris you have never been anything but nasty to me. I don't care about your coin"

Fenris bristles. "Then what do you want?"

"Tell me what you're after"

"I was attacked by slave hunters outside the city. They were acting on the behalf of Denarius's apprentice, Hadriana. I killed them, but I learned that she is still in Kirkwall. I aim to find and kill her"

"And you need my help for this? You have people for this kind of thing don't you?"

"I want to…minimize casualties. She is a blood mage, and will be prepared"

"You want to fight blood magic with blood magic, is that it? So now that you need it, it isn't such a bad thing, is that it?"

"No! Blood magic is evil and taints everything it touches!" Fenris forces himself to calm down. Behind him elves look on in concern, but don't dare intervene. "But Hawke is a blood mage and has proven herself worthy. I would ask her, but…" He shrugs. "She trusts you. I can't do this alone, and I can't needlessly risk the lives of my men." He then very reluctantly adds, "Please."

The men and women of Fenris's command are used to fighting many things; slavers, mercenaries, thugs, giant spiders. They fought a revenant once and only one of them died from the encounter, which was lucky since most non-templar regiments that encounter them tend to suffer larger losses.

But blood mages? For all that their leader hunts them down himself, they had never encountered one in person, that is until they met Merrill.

She wasn't exactly what they pictured. When one thinks of blood mages one imagines a lot more doom and gloom, maybe a fashion palette that includes darker color shades and the odd cravat. Merrill is none of these things, which is a pleasant surprise, but they it also contradicts much of what their boss has told them.

Mind, he didn't say anything about what blood mages are actually like, but what they usually end up doing. It was a contradiction that they found confusing, and it was likely he found it confusing as well. He obviously wasn't happy with the fact that they needed her for this mission, but they appreciated his willingness to risk a moral dilemma if it meant saving their lives.

They appreciate the risk even more as Merrill absorbs lingering entropic energy from recently sacrificed blood thralls.

"I can't keep this up! You have to kill her quickly!"

Hadriana was more desperate than Fenris thought. He and Merrill had chased her to her lair in the caves by the Wounded Coast. What they found was pretty much what Fenris expected; ruins in the caves, freshly-spilled blood mixed with dust, the air flavored with something pungent and evil. The dead crashed upon them in waves; nothing they couldn't handle, but the sheer number of them hinted at the magister's desperation.

Finally they found her, surrounded by a crowd of kowtowing slaves.

The sight of them makes Fenris's blood boil, especially when he learns why they are gathered as they are. He cuts through her bodyguards with ease, but by then it's too late. She has already sacrificed her first thrall and the air thrums with her unholy energy. Merrill does what she can with her own blood offering, but a self-inflicted wound can't compare to a full blood sacrifice. What she does instead is absorb as much of Hadriana's magic as she can before she is completely spent.

It is hard to reach the magister. She summons legions of undead that pour forth en masse which only gives her more time to sacrifice more slaves. One of his soldiers falls, but the rest stand strong against the tide of bone and blade.

"Fenris!"

Merrill yells a desperate plea. Her eyes are glazed over and she is diminished under the crushing weight of Hadriana's power. Slaves huddle in the corner like mindless cattle, bleating despair but unable to resist their conditioning. Fenris rushes in desperation, invigorating the swing of his blade with the righteous fury of a former slave. His lyrium tattoos shine blindingly like the sun.

The shades protecting Hadriana fade to nothingness as he crashes into them. The magister looks at him with fear in her eyes and she reaches for another slave to sacrifice, a young elf girl around Fenris's age. She doesn't resist, climbing to her feet willingly. Fenris takes a step and catches Hadriana's wrist, staying her knife. Hadriana looks at him in fear. She struggles with every ounce of fight in her but Fenris does not let go.

"Please-!" She shouts.

With a glowing hand Fenris reaches into the woman's heart and squeezes. Once. Twice, prolonging the pain.

All at once the shambling army crumbles around them. His soldiers gape, shocked to silence. But when they realize that victory has been achieved they start to cheer.

Their glee does not infect him. He stares into Hadriana's eyes with a burning hate that has him tightening his grip more and more. She shudders in pain, trying to say something, but the blood stoppered in her heart prevents her from doing so. She reaches desperately, flailing her arms as if suffocating.

Merrill watches the display of pure hate. She feels sorry for the woman but her pity dies as she looks at the sallow husks of her victims, bodies drained of blood and substance. The slaves look between her and Fenris in fearful confusion.

With mages like that it's no wonder Fenris hates magic so much.

"She's trying to say something," She says to Fenris.

"What could she say to me now? She has cost me three of my men and killed her own servants to fuel her magics. She tormented me when I served Denarius. I look at her now and see an animal to be put down"

Merrill doesn't protest. But surprisingly one of the slaves does; the girl who was next in line to be sacrificed.

"Mercy! Please have mercy on her!"

Fenris withdraws his hand and recoils as the slave girl reaches for him. Hadriana flops onto the floor, already shaking in seizure.

"She would have killed you! How can you have the slightest ounce of pity for her?"

"Please! We have no-one else. If you hurt her she will only be more angry!"

Fenris looks on her with a broken expression before narrowing his eyes in contempt. He looks down at Hadriana and effortlessly brings his foot down on her neck, crushing her windpipe. The crunch of bone is dull and muted, but all the more sickening for it.

The slaves cringe at the display of ruthlessness.

"What will we do now?" Mumbles the girl. She looks up at Fenris, tears on her cheeks. "What are we supposed to do now!?"

"You're handling this situation well aren't you!?" Accuses Merrill.

Fenris looks from her to the slaves. He remembers what it was like to be mindless like them, but all he feels for them now is pity and disgust.

"What would you have me do? Spare Hadriana so she could go on killing innocents?"

"No," Retorts Merrill, "but you have responsibilities now, as you said. You have to find a place for these people"

"Why don't you take them? The alienage-"

"The alienage is already full! And who would take care of them? Who would give them jobs? We don't exactly have the space or money to house them all." She gave him a pointed look. "Your mansion is empty isn't it? That's more space than you can use"

"Are you suggesting I take slaves!?"

"I'm suggesting you spend your money on something other than this crusade of yours! You can't just free slaves and leave them to their own designs can you? Look at them. They don't know how to be free. You can show them"

Fenris looks at them. He knows she's right.

"Are you our master now?" Asks the girl.

Fenris doesn't answer her, but Merrill does, speaking some words of kind supplication he can't make out through the pounding in his ears. Without his anger he is very tired.

Isabel Hawke of the Coalition sits pretty on her rose-dappled throne. It's no secret that she owns the Blooming Rose, and she wouldn't want it to be. It is undeniably the greatest purveyor of carnal pleasure in Hightown, and the most expensive too. It is a quality business. The customers pay top dollar so the courtesans must be up to stuff.

The old Blooming Rose was all about sex. This new one, it's all about service; providing what's in demand. And what is in demand? Why all kinds of things. There's always going to be the proud noblewoman that secretly desires to be dominated by a woman in leather, while her husband secretly fantasizes about being an Antivan dockworker who's been noticed by the priestess in the cloister. There is the politician that sneaks into the building at odd hours wearing a cloak to hide his identity, only to be joined in a dark room by yet more cloak wearers for a night of anonymous fun. There is the young laborer who has saved up for month for just one night with that one special girl who makes him know for certain that every sovereign he spent was worth it.

The Blooming Rose can fulfill these desires and more. Discretion is a must.

But doesn't that mean that they expose themselves to the Mistress Hawke? If they buy fantasies from her prostitutes, doesn't it follow that she is privy to their most shameful secrets?

Well yes.

But then Isabel Hawke isn't some underworld cut-throat is she? She's a noble, like them. And while she may do some scandalous things and associate with scandalous people(why she's practically Orlesian!), she is undeniably the kind of person that would know what they are doing anyway, and sometimes there's no arguing with that. To the dumber nobles, this is reason enough to throw caution to the wind.

To the smarter ones though, she is very clearly a threat; a money-grubber sinking her tentacles every which way into the goings on of Kirkwall business. This isn't to say she's something to be gotten rid of. Far from it. A powerful person, no matter their moral inclination, is someone on whose side you want to be. Apparently the only people immune to Hawke's influence are the Templars, as well as certain elements of the city guard, and that kind of assurance is a rare thing.

"I won't hinder your operations Isabella, but I am not in your pocket"

"Don't worry Big Girl. If you hadn't noticed, this outfit doesn't have pockets"

"This is serious. There are elements in the Viscount's keep that whisper about my involvement with you"

"Baseless accusations, all of them"

Aveline stares across the table in Isabella's office. She narrows her eyes in a customary glare. "I know that. But it doesn't change the fact that it makes my job that much harder"

"Since when do you care what people think of you?"

"I don't." Aveline leans back. The airs of the guard captain leave her as she tentatively allows herself to relax. Her back and shoulders slacken, unused to being anything but ramrod straight. "I don't. I just needed someone to vent to I suppose. This job…it can be more stressful than I let on"

"Well I'm glad you came to me Big Girl. I was getting worried about you. Can't have you bottling up your feelings or else you'll eventually erupt and you'll go on a rampage. Then who will I hang out with after those boring meetings with the Viscount?"

Aveline smiles ruefully. "My official office hours aren't supposed to be used for 'hanging out.' In fact that's probably how those rumors started in the first place"

"Are you saying I can't come 'round with that brandy you like anymore?"

"I'm not saying that! I'm- ugh. I don't know what I'm saying. This is so confusing, talking to you. Sometimes I forget that you aren't Hawke until you say something like that and I think I should feel strange, only I don't"

"You're warming to me"

"You joke, but it's not untrue. You are…not unpleasant to be around"

Isabella pauses. "You're supposed to deny that. You're supposed to go all red and call me a slattern or something"

"Am I? Perhaps you don't know me as well as you think you do then. Or I've caught you off guard for once. Slattern"

Isabella smiles at the jab. "It's the former. Definitely"

"Mm-hm. It really is strange though. When Varric told me about this ridiculous swapping strategy you all thought up I thought everyone had gone insane overnight. Leandra should have known better at least. But against all the odds you've made it work. Somehow Hawke hasn't been beheaded for using blood magic, and somehow you haven't burned the city to the ground"

"Don't give me too much credit. It could still happen"

"You've adapted to the role well. Maybe too well. But you're right. You can't be too careful right now. Especially not when things are so…volatile"

"You mean with the Qunari?"

"With the Qunari. With the mages and templars. With Fenris running around, funding his own personal war. And you and Varric in bed with the Carta. I'm afraid I'll wake up one day and everything will have gone to hell. And yet every day I wake up and…nothing. Everything is still okay. I swear, when that day comes I'll be grateful just so I can stop worrying all the time"

"You are such a mother hen. But when you came in here you said you needed to talk to me about a personal matter. That wasn't it was it? I was hoping for something more juicy"

Aveline fidgets in her seat. "Maker," she says under her breath. She looks Isabella in the eye. "This is…difficult for me to talk about. Is it alright if I pretend that you're Hawke for a while?"

Isabella nods graciously. She straightens her posture, steeples her fingers, schools her expression. "What is it, Aveline?" She says in her best Hawke impression. It is spot on.

"It's scary how well you can do that now." Aveline swallows. "I-I need you to deliver something"

"A delivery?"

"Th-there's this guardsman. Donnic. You might remember him…"

Hawke has been released from the dungeons, but that doesn't mean she's any less popular in the tower itself.

Mages thrive on gossip. Get few of them in a room and they'll be spouting nonsense behind each other's backs in no time. It's almost scarily Orlesian. Replace that room with a tower and you have hundreds of mages spouting a new rumor every day. Hawke is practically entombed in rumors.

It is no secret that she was brought in for blood magic. She is suspected of having seduced Tolfdir to do the same, and when she was considered for tranquilization her outside contacts had power enough to get her out of trouble. Her brother is a Templar, and though they never speak openly they must be interacting somehow.

The strangest and perhaps most alarming rumor is her bizarre relationship with the Templar Alrik. Alrik hangs around her a bit more than he does the others, and while this would usually be cause for sympathy she never seems to be bothered by him.

Is she sleeping with him too? Vile, vile temptress!

All of this means that, like it or not, when Hawke eats her meals she has to sit with the mages no-one else will; the devout. In every circle of magi there is that one cadre of fanatically religious mages that denounce their own kind and themselves, spouting the "magic must serve mankind and not rule it," line like it's their own personal slogan. Even the Loyalists don't like sitting with them.

Most of them are freaks, but harmless freaks. They sit with Hawke because they love a chance to proselytize a sinner. It is a small annoyance.

Hawke's best friend among the mages is Idunna, a former blood mage prostitute who initiated demon summoning rituals through sex, and somehow she has found a place among the devout mages of the circle. Her quiet hints that Hawke become religious as well are another small annoyance.

"In the book of canticles Josefiah said unto the sinners of the mountain that they should denounce their pagan gods, for they had done naught but lead them to temptation and carnal pleasure-"

"For the last time Mekel," Interrupts Hawke, "I am not a heathen polytheist. Nor am I sleeping with every Templar in the Gallows." He opens his mouth and before he can get a word out Hawke interrupts him again, "Nor am I sleeping with any single Templar either"

"He's only trying to help," Says Idunna, holding Mekel's hand reassuringly. He returns dejectedly to his food. "You should be nicer to the friends you have Hawke"

Hawke suppresses the urge to roll her eyes. "My apologies Mekel. I am perfectly capable of listening to your proselytizing on a given day, but this morning has been difficult and I'm just too tired to even bother"

"What happened this morning?" Asks Idunna. After finding the religion her personality had taken a 180 to something motherly and gentle. If Hawke hadn't been there to see it she would never have guessed that Idunna was once a ruthless blood mage.

"I was teaching the apprentices how to summon will-o-the-wisps. Perfectly harmless spirits from the fade that can no more possess a person than it can rub two thoughts together. But you wouldn't know that from the way the attending Templar started panicking. You should have seen her, face red, sword drawn, screaming for reinforcements. I told her that the loud noises only make the wisps more interested in her but she wouldn't listen"

"That was you?"

"Yes, that was me"

"I heard the Templar was covered in wisps when the other Templars arrived"

"It was great timing too," Notes Hawke bitterly, "of course they immediately blamed me! I had to keep explaining to them again and again that I wasn't doing anything wrong. I thought they might have killed me then and there if Cullen hadn't shown up"

"You mean Alrik"

Hawke casts an annoyed glance at the young mage who said that. "I don't like what you're implying. And no. It was not Alrik, it was Cullen"

"Can't blame me for assuming can you? He always seems to come around when you're in trouble"

"He's been doing that a lot lately hasn't he?" Says a woman to Hawke's right.

"That's the thing isn't it? He was a right terror before the whole incident with you in the caves. Now he's different. What're we supposed to believe?"

Hawke sighs, exhausted. "I don't know. Believe what you will." With that she downs her water and finishes her food. She excuses herself, but as she nears the door the Templar on guard stops her.

"You can't leave until supper time is over"

"What? How long has that rule been in place?"

"Since now. Sit down." His command is edged with warning. He doesn't reach for his sword but he looks like he's ready to.

"Yesterday I was allowed to leave early to prepare my lesson plan. The day before that I was allowed to exercise in the common area. What changed?"

"The will of the Knight Commander. Now back away before I have you restrained and dragged to solitary confinement"

Hawke bristles, matching the man's glare even as she knows that she will have to back down. Before she can Violation materializes from the stairwell.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary corporal," it says in Alrik's disturbing calm. "I'm sure the enchanter has no designs to burn down the tower. At least not immediately after she has eaten"

The Templar reddens. "Of course Commander. As you say." He gibbers like a man who's been caught off-duty; a bully to the helpless but a simpering toad in the face of true authority. He steps aside to let Hawke through.

To Hawke's chagrin Violation follows her. Once they are far enough away from the cafeteria she slows her step to allow the demon to walk at her side.

"You should not have done that. Now there will be even more suspicion heaped at my feet"

"I exist to serve you mistress. I did only what you desired"

"You can read my desires but you still have no concept of proper restraint. I may desire something but that doesn't always mean that it is wise to act on that desire"

"So you did not wish me to put that man in his place"

"I did. But your doing that compromises my position"

If Violation resents the chastisement it does not show it. It merely stares straight ahead and nods at Hawke's words. "I understand"

"I don't think you do. Not only did you publicly protect me in front of the majority of the circle, you also followed after me where no-one can see us. The rumors will only get worse now"

"Would you have me leave then?"

"No. There's no point to it now. We don't see each other very often so we may as well make the most of this privacy while it lasts"

"As you say mistress"

"Do not call me that. Even now you should address me as either "Hawke" or "Mage""

"Apologies. The nature of our contract compels me to address you with the respect your dominance is due"

"You speak more like Alrik each day"

"Yes. He is not dead so I have ready access to his memories"

"A good thing. Your existence would be difficult to explain if Alrik's body started rotting"

"It is not unusual for demons to inhabit corpses. That is how necromancy works, after all"

"Have you ever possessed a corpse?"

"Never. As a desire demon I have the self-respect to ignore such base summonses"

Hawke derails the conversation before she can get drawn in to yet another fascinating discussion on the nature of demons. "The tower. The Templar earlier said Meredith was changing policies"

"Tightening security. More patrols and less freedoms for the mages. There were two executions in the last week, both suspected of blood magic"

"Were they guilty?"

"Yes. Though it might have been as much the fault of overzealous Templars. They were issued warnings but little else. Your brother presided over one of the executions"

"Is he okay?"

"He is withdrawn. The girl became an abomination, but when her death became the certain outcome she gave up. It gave your brother pause. I encouraged him to finish the job"

"You were there?"

"Of course. Alrik presided over many executions so it is only natural that I should carry on doing so"

"Doesn't that mean you're killing other demons?"

"You know that there is no love lost between demons. Besides, it was a demon of rage that took her, and I have no patience for its ilk"

"Well. Good job then"

"I aim only to please, Mistress"

"I told you to call me Hawke"

Violation exhales impatiently. "My apologies. I aim only to please you, Mistress Hawke." It says the name with noticeable discomfort.

"No not Mistress Hawke. Call me mage." She sighs. "If it makes you feel better you can call me Enchanter"

"Yes, Enchanter." Perhaps titles are easier to utter than names.

"Never mind that. How goes my bid for senior enchanter?"

"Not well. You have only been in the circle for six months and you are known to have used blood magic. If you weren't as connected as you are, you would not have been shown mercy at all. Aside from that…you are not very popular among the other mages. I doubt they would support your ascension"

"So I'm stuck teaching apprentices?"

"It seems so"

"Pity." Hawke looks slyly at her minion. Time to catch it off guard. "Where were you last week?"

That gives Violation pause. It opens its mouth to speak, and says nothing.

"I know you left the tower without telling me," Continues Hawke, "I want you to tell me why"

Violation considers lying, but Hawke is an astute mistress and might be able to tell. After that it would take a simple exertion of her will over Violation's and the demon would have to tell her anyway. No, lying would not be…serviceable.

"I was exploring. I wanted to see more of the world than I was seeing in the Gallows"

"I'm sure you see plenty during your assigned patrols"

"Those aren't the same. They are…confining. I wanted to see Kirkwall at my leisure and I wanted to see it without you or the Knight Commander watching my every move"

Hawke takes a moment to answer. They have stopped walking. "You feel confined"

"…Yes"

Is Violation looking for sympathy? Or is this genuine? Can a demon even have a moment of vulnerability?

"Where did you go?"

"Many places, though I spent most of my time in Darktown and…Hawketown"

Hawke rolls her eyes. "Are they still calling it that?"

"Indeed. And it is now home to more than just heretics of the horned race"

"That was the case even before I came to the tower"

"And it is even more so now. I saw many humans, elves and dwarves among the spires of Hawketown. Even a few mages; the mage underground thrives there"

"They hungered you did they?"

Violation smiles. "Not terribly. There are a great may desires in the mortal world, but I am satisfied with my possession of Ser Alrik"

"You said it was confining"

"Confining, yes. But a suit of armor is confining, and yet you would be better off using it. In any case being Alrik is better than being in the fade"

Violation smiles that creepy demon's smile, but says nothing more.

Moments later Hawke emerges from a passage and walks calmly in the direction of her chambers. Alrik does not emerge until much later, a pensive expression on his face.

"We're here Varric. Where's this informant of yours?"

After so long wearing robes and dresses everyday a rogue's leathers should feel strange, but they don't. Travelling without her personal retinue for once Isabella strikes a no less imposing figure, swaddled as she is in high-quality leathers. Commissioned from Antivan leatherworkers, the whole outfit had been a gag gift from Varric. Isabela had laughed at it and declared it unsuitable for a pirate captain.

But it is suitable for going out and killing people. And it breathed surprisingly well. She won't admit it to Varric, but strutting her stuff in the outfit makes her feel like a panther.

It's the best thing to wear for mysterious meetings in Hightown.

In the pale moonlight the square is dark enough that Isabella can only barely make out the closed-up stalls of the marketplace. Varric looks like nothing more than a short obscure blob. "Edge said his message was urgent," He says. "I wouldn't have asked you to come with me if I didn't think this wasn't serious"

"I thought you said this was about an invitation"

"And it is"

"Varric, I get invitations all the time, and not always to very palatable locations. I don't know who this Edge fellow is but it doesn't sound like he's worth my time"

"Let's just hear him out. Who knows? This may lead to an adventure!"

"Great, more adventure," Says Aveline, rolling her eyes, "if there's anything my life is missing its yet more adventure"

"Don't be like that. I did you a favor, which was embarrassing for everyone, so you can't complain. How is Donnic by the way?" When Aveline doesn't immediately answer she asks, "Cat got your-"Aveline places her hand on her shoulder. "What?"

Aveline nods in the foggy distance. A group of armed men approaches. "Trouble"

Isabella shoots Varric a sharp look. "Did you lead Hawke into nasty situations like this? Because I'll tell you right now, I'm not her and I won't tolerate this silliness"

Varric isn't pointing his crossbow but she knows he's got it ready. He flashes a smile before the leader of the group draws near.

He's a handsome one, or would be if his perpetual sneer didn't make him look like a pit-bull. He stops a few paces away, placing his hands on his hips and looking Isabella up and down. Predictably, he scoffs.

"You are the one who killed Castillon? I though you would be taller." He unsheathes his sword and rallies his men. "Tonight you die!"

"Can't say I wasn't expecting that," Isabella says, drawing and throwing a dagger into the eye of one of the enemy archers. Aveline pushes past her quickly, shielding her from a grouping of arrows before charging ahead. She cuts down two men, using the latter one as a shield from yet more arrows before throwing a hatchet at another archer. The axe buries in the archer's skull, distracting his companions for long enough for Varric to put a bolt in his fellows.

Isabella moves to capitalize on the disarray caused by Aveline's onslaught, but finds her targets cut down by yet more daggers striking from above. She turns, catching only a swift glimpse of an elf handily incapacitating mercenary after mercenary before leaping to the flagstone of the square. She cuts down a man and rolls easily to Isabella's side.

"And who are you supposed to be?" Isabella asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"Fight now, talk later," The elf replies.

"I don't even know why I bother asking," Isabella says as she parries a sword and lacerates the shoulder that swings it, "You're probably yet another crazy person who wants something from me"

Moments later, when the battle is done, the Elf offers Isabella a cloth to clean her daggers of the blood. "I don't know about crazy, but my name is Tallis, and you're right. I could use your help. Have you heard of Chateau Haine?"

"See Isabella? Adventure!"

Hawke hasn't had much to do with the First Enchanter. She sees him here and there, but he never seems to have time for her. She assumes that like most every other mage in the tower it's because of the rumors.

Apparently not.

He smiles at her from across the desk. A tired smile. Orsino wears his heart on his sleeve, and it pumps a ragged beat. She doesn't know much about him beyond the fact that he came from an Alienage somewhere in the Free Marches. Perhaps because of his upbringing in the Circle of Magi he has a self-assurance that distinguishes him from the world-weary city elves of Kirkwall.

Even with noticeable bags under his eyes he is an impressive man.

"Would it surprise you to hear that I have a great deal of respect for you?" He asks.

"Honestly, yes"

He chuckles at that. "By all accounts I should hate you. Blood magic and all that. But I don't. I wonder if that's a sign I'm getting older?"

Hawke is unsure how to respond, "First Enchanter?"

He sits in his chair and peers at her over steepled fingers. His eyes are much more owlish than most elves. "You think I don't see it? Of course you don't. And why should you? It's always the clever ones who think they're too smart to get caught"

"What are you talking about?"

He doesn't answer the question, instead asking on of his own. "How have you been adjusting in the circle?"

His abruptness unnerves her. "It has been…satisfactory"

"A blatant lie." He smiles, "I'm the last person who would blame you for hating every second here. You can be a little more honest"

Hawke cautiously lowers her guard. "It is unpleasant, yes. But I realize I am more lucky than many of the others here"

"That is an understatement. No-one else can say they have relatives as powerful as yours working in their favor. Withholding lyrium from the Free Marches? Your sister is as audacious as you are"

"How do you know about that? It isn't common knowledge"

He chuckles. "You know that it is the Templar's policy to relocate mages to cities away from their families? I daresay the only reason you aren't in the White Spire of Orlais is because Meredith wants to keep an eye on you. Which begs the question…how does she not see right through you?"

Hawke watches him cautiously; suddenly very aware that Meredith's office is just across the hall.

"Do you think I don't see what you have done to Alrik?"

Hawke schools her expression, but she only barely quells a surge of panic that squeezes the inside of her chest and catches her breath. Living in the circle has shaken her self-assurance, but she always thought that if anyone were to see through her it would be one of the Templars. Not another mage.

"Don't worry. I won't betray your secret." Orsino smiles, it is more genuine than any other he has offered her. "Why would I? The bastard is getting what he deserves. Tell me, what kind of demon lives in him now? Pride? It must be"

"It's a Desire demon, actually"

Orsino lets out a low whistle. "A dangerous game you play, friend"

A moment passes between them. The air lapses into something more comfortable. Hawke realizes she was holding her breath and allows herself to breathe.

"How did you find out?"

"Deduction mostly. Mages do not usually return from Alrik's excursions beneath the Gallows"

"You knew about those?!"

"Of course I knew! Who do you think told the mage underground about them? I'm just sorry it took him having to go up against you before he actually stopped." He shakes his head. "Templars. Always so willing to think the best of one another, but when it comes to a mage they always assume the worst. I suppose that's why none of them realizes that an actual demon has free reign in the tower"

"Do you mean me or Violation?"

"That is its name? How…apt. I meant the demon, but you're certainly not as benign as they would like, are you?"

"I have ambitions"

He scoffs. "Didn't anyone tell you? Mages aren't allowed to be ambitious. Especially not ones like you and me." He picks up a sheaf of paper that was lying at the corner of his desk. He passes it to her. "I know you are trying to become a senior enchanter"

"It's impossible isn't it?"

"Obviously. You'll never get Meredith's approval, and the other mages already don't like you"

"I hope you have a point other than how terrible my reputation is"

"I do. Senior enchanters command respect around here, but not very much authority. They don't actually get much done you see? Less politicking, more research. It's a dead end, hierarchically speaking. I think I have a position much better suited to someone like you"

A job offer. Hawke leans forward. "What do you have in mind?"

"Have you heard of Chateau Haine?"

"I'm glad you decided to take me on this trip Isabella. I needed to get out of Kirkwall. It feels like everywhere we go looks exactly the same"

"I know what you mean Kitten"

Merrill looks outside the window of the carriage, marveling at the way the sun washes over the valley at mid-day. Also in the carriage are Isabella, Leandra, their new acquaintance Tallis, and a particularly large Tal-Vashoth named Grunkle. The ride to Chateau Haine was a long one, though for people like Isabella who could afford to hire a carriage with Orlesian horses, the length of the trip was no trouble at all. Merrill gushed over the novelty of travelling in a carriage instead of an aravel, and watching Merrill gush over anything was worth the expense.

Tallis had been quiet for most of the ride, though not unfriendly. Strange, since she was pretty talkative before they left, if a tad evasive about the particulars of her mission. Grunkle made her noticeably uncomfortable.

Grunkle was as stoic as one could expect of any of the horned race. Before Isabella left the city she had tasked her chief lieutenants among the Tal-Vashoth to choose their most skilled warrior to accompany her on her trip. They chose Grunkle. He accepted the summons without complaint, only asking for money to buy more weapons. With the exception of his spear and long-sword they were now strapped to various parts of his body. In the Qun he was limited to the use of only a few weapons. Since becoming a Tal-Vashoth he had thrown himself into learning how to use many more.

He was a foreboding presence in the carriage, taking up more room than any of the others. Isabella was glad to have him along. Ecstatic even! The way people reacted to him was endlessly entertaining.

Like Merrill she was grateful to be out of the city. While there were many perks to running Hawke's Empire, there were many responsibilities as well. And Isabella was glad to let Varric handle things for a while in her absence. He might not be happy about being left behind, but that was what he gets for leading her to an ambush, even if accidently.

"I'm just so glad to be away from Fenris," Says Merrill, "you know he actually tried to buy a house in the Alienage just so he wouldn't have to be around all those people in his house. Can you believe that?"

"He's a loner. Loners don't like being around other people all the time. It makes them go wonky. Isn't that right Grunkle?"

Grunkle looks at her, sighs, and looks back outside the window.

"Isabel was the same way," Says Leandra. Isabella had tried to dissuade her from coming but she had put her foot down. There were a few auxiliary bodyguards in the carriage behind them brought along for the sole purpose of keeping Leandra safe.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were Isabel," Interjects Tallis, looking curiously between them all.

Everyone exchanges a panicked glance before Leandra exclaims, "That's right! Isabel looks so much like her sister that sometimes I confuse one for the other. Isn't that right Isabel?"

"Yes," Isabella lies, smiling smoothly, "mother had such a hard time telling us apart when we were children that we developed completely different personalities. I'm the fun sister"

"That must be difficult, having your sister in the circle and not being able to see her," Says Tallis, still looking a little suspicious. Isabella looks at her, meeting her eyes long enough that the elf has to look away. It is a challenge as well as a warning. Do not push this.

For Leandra's benefit Isabella says, "I do miss her. It really hasn't been long since we last saw one another but it feels like it's been ages"

"I hope she's alright," Says Merrill, "I worry for her. Anders has such terrible stories about the Circle"

"Isabella is a strong one," Says Leandra, taking Merrill's hand. She smiles valiantly. "I wouldn't be surprised if she were trying to take over the Circle and run it herself"

Isabella lets out a peal of laughter. "That would be just like her wouldn't it?"

Tallis looks at them curiously, but drops the subject.

The carriage begins to jostle a bit more as the horses pull them up the mountain. In the distance they can see the thick bricks of the Chateau peeking out over the tree line.

"There it is," Says Tallis. She looks at Isabella with a big smile on her face. "As promised, one adventure coming up!"

"Don't be like that sister. It's an adventure! You like adventure don't you?"

"Shut up"

"It's a nice day for a hike. Lots of…nature. We don't get to see a whole lot of nature from the Gallows"

"Yes. We have a noticeable dearth of mud and grass. Notify the Knight-Commander, this must be rectified at once!"

Carver's smile does not diminish. "Sure, be sarcastic, but I know you're loving every bit of this"

It's true. Hawke is loving every bit of her little excursion to the mountains. Even the constant marching isn't too much trouble. Climbing up and down stairs in the tower every day does wonders for one's endurance, and at least she doesn't have to wear templar armor on top of that.

Officially she is out here as Orsino's assistant, sent in his stead since he wasn't exactly allowed outside the city. He is a man with many secrets; many resentments. And proud as he is, he is desperately lonely. He does not trust anyone. Not even his closest friends in the circle.

But Hawke? He can trust her, because if she betrays his incriminating thoughts then he can betray her right back.

Other than the mutually-assured destruction their relationship has become immensely advantageous and even comfortable. As Orsino's right hand she wields authority among the mages she didn't have before, which at least quells the sleeping-with-templars rumor. After all Orsino wouldn't promote someone unless he knew for a fact that they were on the mages side.

Her first real assignment as his right hand is going to Chateau Haine for Duke Prosper's grand hunt. To present a show of mage-templar cooperation Meredith had sent a delegation of mages and Templars to attend the festivities. Orsino was allowed to send his assistant, as a show of good faith. Meredith hadn't been happy but she hadn't complained either.

Among their number were seven Templars, including Alrik, captained by Carver Hawke, and four mages led by Isabella (actually Isabel) Hawke. It made for a strange dynamic, as well as an unprecedented instance of Carver leading a group while having more authority than his sister.

He was annoyingly giddy about it. So giddy in fact that even now, after days of marching across the Free Marches, occasionally having to stop and fight off raider bands, his mirth had not yet worn off.

All of a sudden Hawke stops in her tracks, having stepped into a mudded sinkhole. Her calf sinks into the ground with a wet squishing noise.

"Dammit!"

Carver laughs at her, immediately moving to assist. He easily lifts her out of the mud. He had always been strong, but it had always been easy to forget that what with how much of a tit he was.

Hawke mumbles her thanks, but frowns when Carver doesn't immediately put her down.

"Could you please not carry me about like a child in front of my colleagues?"

He obliges, but not before getting a few more laughs in. "Haha, I'm sorry. You just look so precious when you pout like that. Isabella would find it hilarious I'm sure"

One of the recruits runs up to them, snapping a salute at Carver. The younger Hawke drops his smile to face the man. "Report," Carver demands, suddenly all business.

"Sir. If we continue at this pace we should arrive at the Chateau tomorrow afternoon"

"Excellent. The hunt does not begin until the day after tomorrow. We can make camp in a few hours"

"Of course, but…some of the lads are eager to get to civilization. After that last bandit attack-"

"Are you kidding me? What kind of warriors can't stand a few more hours out in the wild? You wouldn't have lasted ten seconds in the army"

The recruits reddens. "Right sir"

Carver assumes a conciliatory tone. "If we're attacked again then we will fight them off as we have been doing. We are Templars man, not helpless merchants, and we have mages to boot. Remember yourself. Remember your calling. We make camp in a few hours"

The Templar nods, ashamed and inspired, and runs off to relay the orders. Hawke glances sidelong at her brother.

"That was impressive"

"Meredith has been driving recruitment, but that just means we're getting a lot of inexperienced men and women too green to hold a sword right"

"You are a good motivator"

"Ha! Flattery won't work on me." But she can tell he is pleased. "Besides, I'm sure the mages are about to keel over in exhaustion"

Hawke gives him a withering look. He raises his hand, conciliatory.

"I don't mean you, obviously. But you have to admit, some of the mages you brought along are too old to be out here"

"Sadly true." Hawke looks at her colleagues; a young man, and young woman, and two old codgers valiantly keeping pace with everyone else. They use their staffs to support themselves as much as their legs. She hadn't chosen them, but apparently their presence at the festivities was essential. The older mages are grim-faced, but the younger ones are enthusiastic to be outside. All of them are wary of Alrik as he brings up the rear of the group.

"By the way," Says Carver, eyeing Alrik, "When are you going to tell me why Alrik seems to be reporting to you as much as he is reporting to me?"

"You…caught that did you?"

"I'm not completely blind you know. And I do hear the rumors. There's something weird between you two isn't there?"

"Uh…"

"Don't worry I know you well enough to know the rumors are complete shit"

"Carver…"

"But something's going on. I know when you're hiding something from me." He considers a moment, "Actually, no. Nevermind. I figure if you haven't already told me then you were never going to, which means it's something I wouldn't like, right?"

"Probably"

"That's just lovely. Well, whatever. Whatever you did to him I'm sure he deserved it"

"Since when has your moral compass been as warped as mine?"

"Ha! Your moral compass is a little more than warped, I'd say. But if I seem uncaring it's only because I know how much of a bastard Alrik is. Look at him, with his evil little beard. So creepy"

Hawke lets out a light chuckle.

After the conversation dwindles they trundle on in silence. Eventually the sun sets behind them, heralding the coming of the night. Carver orders them to make camp.

"There it is," Says one of the mages, pointing at a stone tower in the distance rising above the trees. The setting sun has caught the structure in an orange haze, making a weak but noticeable reflection in the dawn. "Chateau Haine"