Toro Tokuda

7.

“It still isn’t enough,” Brona complained to Varric, who sat at the end of his table, deep in thought. She had compiled all their funds into one place, but it wasn’t nearly enough for the expedition. Two further weeks of work doing little odd jobs around Kirkwall, and beyond, and they did have a significant amount, but not enough to turn Bartrand’s head.

“It is still more than I’ve seen at once,” Fenris noted from behind them. He stood at the entrance to Varric’s rooms, his eyes on the rest of the tavern.

“You’ve invested too much back into Isabela’s wild goose chase,” Varric finally said. “Enough. Her cargo is gone, you killed that bastard after her and what— you take the gold she gave you and put it right back into greasing palms.”

“The pirate isn’t the problem,” the elf countered. “You have inflated how much is needed for the expedition. This isn’t sufficient?”

“Not if we hope to get some gear to get us through it, no,” Hawke replied in a sigh, sitting back in the chair with her hand over her eyes. 

“The expedition has no where to go without our maps, so we still have time,” Varric reminded them both. “I’ll get you some more work, don’t worry.” Fenris let out a very displeased noise. “You have a better idea?”

“No, but I hoped that you would.”

“What about this bounty, Hawke?” Varric said after a moment, rustling a piece of paper to get her attention. She looked over at it, then took it from him.

“I forgot about this, the missing wife. We could try to find her.” Hawke read over the information again before she fluttered it in Fenris’ direction. He left his post to stand behind her chair, leaning on top of it as he gazed down at the warrior and the bounty both. “Do you think she’s still missing?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Still, he took the sheaf from her and stayed staring at it, as if he was reading. Posturing for Varric, perhaps, but they both knew he couldn’t read it. “We could go now.”

“Not before you clean up this mess,” Varric countered.

Brona took her time in re-bagging all of their coin, and storing it in the designated safe, along with the Grey Warden maps. Fenris waited, as patient as ever, and then was right behind her as they left out to Lowtown. “This isn’t going to pay much.”

“No, but it will keep us busy while Varric gets us more work, and maybe we can rescue this poor woman.”

Fenris didn’t reply, but was there at her side as they walked through the busy afternoon streets of Kirkwall. It was a normal enough sight in the past couple of weeks since she had helped him clear out the estate, since he didn’t have much else to do but to drink. He did that, too, but often on nights when she assured him that she wasn’t doing anything interesting, besides going up to the Chantry. Brona had made sure to go back after nearly a week of being absent, thinking that that had been a sufficient amount of time.

Sebastian and her had spent hours that first day they saw each other again to catch up on all the events that had transpired. While he seemed uneasy with the nature of Anders, not to mention their closeness, he assured her that he did trust her. Brona had promised that if she didn’t trust Anders, she wouldn’t allow him around Bethany, and the prince had really no choice but to agree. Once they had spoken so thoroughly that they seemed to exhaust all of their conversations, he would drag her to whatever he was doing that day as a Brother: working in the kitchens, cleaning, going out into the city itself to distribute food or… the list went on and on. While it provided nothing for her expedition project, it did much to set her mind at ease.

Part of it was simply the Brother’s presence itself, because he had a way of keeping her calm and centered with nothing but a look or a hand on her arm. He was a paradox, and Brona found herself fascinated by him. She thought often of how he had looked that night in the Chantry, staring down the templars with his bow, and the precision of his arrows. And then— and then she saw how tender he was with the people that they aided, how devout he was when she sat with him to hear the Chant being sung. She was duly fascinated by the duality of the man.

Fenris had traveled up to the Chantry with her once, and he had met the prince. He had been driven by curiosity more than anything else, because sometimes she would mention Sebastian in passing. He failed to see the same thing in the man as she did, but he stayed with her during that day anyway. The prince had bombarded the elf with questions, especially about the Imperium and their Chantry, about his own beliefs— and therefore Fenris had no desire to repeat the experience.

And, of course, there were the questions that Sebastian asked Brona privately about her relationship with Fenris. It was in a hushed tone, but even so, she assured him that they were friends. Close friends, perhaps, but friends. The prince, not quite satisfied with her answer, as he had noticed that she didn’t always catch on to social cues, had pulled aside the elf in turn— the next time he saw him. Fenris had simply scoffed and told him to keep his nose to himself. It did nothing to reassure Sebastian.

“Hawke, there you are,” came an exhausted voice as they reached the markets in Hightown, and Brona took the last few steps up to where Aveline was waiting. “Have you been avoiding me? I actually have some—“ The guard cut off, eyes narrowing at Fenris as he stopped beside Hawke. “Who is this?”

“This is Fenris. Fenris, this is Aveline Vallen. We came to Kirkwall together.” The two warriors nodded to each other, so Brona continued. “I haven’t been avoiding you, I’ve just been busy. Besides, don’t you have your guards watch me?”

“I do, and there’s been some very odd reports lately,” she scolded. “Lucky for you, I’ve suppressed or taken care of the more scandalous ones on my own. Two separate incidents in the Chantry? Hawke, even for you…”

“Yes, the irony is rich,” Fenris noted, and Brona frowned at him.

“And I thank you for that, but it really seems worse than it actually was.”

“Was it?” Aveline snapped, turning to point up at the Chantry. “Three of those templars died, Hawke. Templars! One of them had multiple arrow wounds, which I could not explain. Perhaps you could enlighten me?” Hawke took in a breath, but Aveline shook her hands quickly. “No, you know what, nevermind. It’s better that I don’t know.” Still, she let out a heavy sigh.

“I really don’t mean to make things more difficult for you. That was a rather unique situation— unavoidable, really— and the other one was a duel, which… I wasn’t really even a part of.” Fenris breathed out a laugh, and she elbowed him in the side. “I was there, yes, but it was a duel, Aveline! There was bound to be blood.”

“Please tell me you’re coming up to Hightown for a legitimate reason?” Fenris produced the bounty letter, and the guard took it. “Ah, yes. I remember this man. His wife had run off, he said, but it had been a while. He had started to get worried, and was insistent that I involve myself, and drag her back home. I refused, and so should you.”

“If he’s worried, shouldn’t we at least investigate?”

“I have much more important things to do, such as cleaning up your messes,” Aveline said, handing Fenris back the sheaf. “If you want to investigate, I’m not going to stop you. If you find anything worthwhile, then maybe I’ll be able to help.” She pointed up to a house over the markets. “He lives just over there. Or maybe he’s just camped out there. Who knows?” Her attention fell again to Hawke. “I do have real work for you, when you have some time.”

“Yes, of course. What is it?”

“Some auxillary guard work. Some ruffians are camping out and attacking merchants up the mount, and so I’m going to clear them out. I will just hire some others if you refuse—“

“Of course I’ll help—“ Brona glanced at Fenris, who just tilted his head lightly. “We’ll help. It’s really all right for you to hire mercenaries for this?”

“There’s not enough guards, and they haven’t attacked any of our people directly. It’s only a matter of time until they do, though. A patrol regularly walks the route. How long before a bandit group decides to test their luck?”

“Does it pay well?” Fenris wondered, and Aveline looked right at him.

“It does pay well, yes. How did you come to know Hawke?”

“She helped me with some pursuants.”

“A fugitive,” Aveline accused, attention back to Hawke, her arms crossing. “When my guards said there were two white-haired warriors running around Kirkwall, I said they were mad, drunk, delusional, seeing double—“ She shrugged and then let it back down, exhausted. “But it’s true. An elven fugitive.”

“He’s not a fugitive, not anymore,” Hawke defended him. “And they had no rights to pursue him here, anyway.” Aveline made a very unconvinced noise in the back of her throat. 

“A few less slavers for you and rest of the guard to contend with, along with maleficar,” Fenris offered, once he determined that Hawke wasn’t going to give up the information herself, even to an old friend. “And if they return, we will correct them again.”

Aveline’s entire posture and attitude seemed to change, but it was only while she worked that through. “Good. Next time, come and get me. I will gladly go beyond my station to assist with that.” Her bright eyes turned down to the stone beneath their boots before she looked to Hawke again. “Speaking of maleficar, I did hear some rumblings out of the Gallows, and I thought you might be interested.” Brona nodded to indicate she was. “A couple of the templar recruits have gone missing. There’s nothing definite yet, but I know templars can be… highly suspicious, especially when they get scared.”

Hawke hummed as she thought that through. “That’s interesting. I saw a note to that effect on Varric’s desk, but it didn’t seem odd to me.” Here her eyes met with Fenris’, his head tilting further as he tried to understand her line of thought.

“Which means they might try to tear apart the Undercity in order to find them,” Aveline provided, mainly for his benefit. “I know your tracking skills, Hawke. Maybe you can get out ahead of this before it reaches a critical point.”

Fenris was still having trouble connecting the dots. “Is your concern with our mage, or with the templars themselves?”

The guard adjusted her stance, like it always did when she was reminded of Wesley, and the shield she still wore on her back. “As many problems as there are with the Order, they still provide services and do things that I— and all the guards— cannot. But yes, I am also concerned with Bethany, and any others we might collectively know,” she agreed.

“Have you met him?”

“No, not directly. I just redirect any reports of his clinic to my watch, instead. I don’t doubt the templars already know of it, but if we can keep it out of their forefront for as long as possible, our countrymen will surely benefit.”

“No concern for the man himself?” Fenris wondered.

“Only in that I know he has taken over Bethany’s instruction,” the guardswoman clarified. “This city has many more imminent issues than a healer running a free clinic.”

“I’ll have to introduce you,” Hawke stated, and Aveline frowned at her. “I think you’ll like him.”

“Do you?”

“I do,” she confirmed with a nod. “But maybe don’t bring up any templars.”

“I’m not letting you set me up with an apostate.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Hawke teased, but Aveline’s mood didn’t lighten. “Maybe for supper sometime soon?”

“He eats supper with you?”

“And sleeps there half the time,” Fenris added. “Leandra set up an extra bed in their room, because she couldn’t stand to see him sleeping on the floor.”

“And how do you know that?” Fenris’ eyes darted to Hawke. “He’s on first name basis with your mother?”

“She’s fond of him,” Hawke sniffed. “When do you want to head for the mount?”

“Avoidance,” Aveline sighed out, but didn’t argue the point. “We can go tonight, though I cannot promise we’ll find anything. It might be a few nights before we do.” Hawke nodded, so the guardswoman looked between the two of them. “Please, be careful. Meet me at the gates at nightfall.”

“We’ll be there,” Hawke promised with a smile. She pointed up to where Aveline had indicated for de Carrac, and she and Fenris went to go and find the man.

He was very easy to find, as the man was sniveling on the front stoop of a large house. Hawke approached him carefully, crouching to look at him, her hand to her sword so it wouldn’t make a noise on the stone. “Ghyslain de Carrac?” She wondered, and he looked up at her, back of his hand to his nose. “I saw your post about your missing wife. I’d like to help.”

“You— you would? A guard was just here, and he said what they’ve all said. She’s run off, and no guard can drag her back. As if they could find her,” he murmured the last, sleeve to his face instead. He tried to regain some of his dignity. “I’m telling you, this doesn’t feel like all the other times. I think something happened—“

“What other times?” Hawke cut in.

“She’s run off before,” he said with a nod, eyes from her over to Fenris. “You know how women are, so fickle and fleeting. She’s always come back, though. It’s never been this long.”

“Have you considered earning back her affections?” The elf wondered, finally crouching beside Hawke to be eye-level with the man.

“Easy enough for you to say,” Ghyslain scoffed. “You do not know my Ninette. She is wild— she keeps multiple lovers, in the city and without, and makes no secret of it! She frequents brothels, even. Which I know because one sent her flowers to the house. Can you—“ He cut off with a frustrated little growl, hands rubbing over his face.

“Was there a card with the flowers?” Hawke wondered.

“With one of the bouquets, yes. Jethann, down at that whore house in the Red Light district.”

“The Blooming Rose,” Fenris offered. De Carrac nodded, and Hawke looked to the elf. His eyes darted to her. “I don’t go there. Varric was telling me of the Coterie,” he explained.

“You’ve never been?”

“No,” he said emphatically, “though it seems that will change for the both of us today.”

Ghyslain perked up at that. “You’re really going to try to find her?”

“Yes,” Hawke told him, hand to his shoulder in a reassuring way. “But if there’s anything else you can think of, it might help us.”

“Anything about these other lovers, perhaps? Even something said in passing.”

“There’s been so many, and she’s been gone for an entire month now,” he replied, but did look deep in thought.

“An entire month?” Hawke repeated. “Why are you just looking for her now?”

“I thought she’d return! At least for her jewels or her wardrobe, you know…” He trailed off, looking between the two of them. “Her family has been asking questions, and that’s what made me think that something is wrong about this time. She always keeps in touch with her family. And now— they think I’ve done something to her. For her inheritance!” He made a face at the very thought, as if imagining the murder of his wife by his own hands, and being disgusted at the gore. “I wouldn’t. We have our problems, but we were in love once.” His gaze went to Fenris, face clearing. “You understand that, don’t you?”

“Love?” He murmured, and the man nodded. “I understand that you speak the truth.”

“You believe me? The guards didn’t believe me—“

“We believe you,” the elf assured him, even offering him a small smile, though it fell quickly. “But you do understand that we might find nothing. A month is a long time, especially in a city such as this one.”

“Anything,” he begged, “anything you can find. Even if she doesn’t want to come back— just let me know she’s all right.”

The pair of warriors left the man amidst fresh sobs on his stoop. Fenris took the lead, and Hawke didn’t question it. They walked in silence for a long while through the city, heading towards the brothels, until he cleared his throat. “I can go in alone, if you’d prefer.”

“Do you not think me capable of being in a brothel?”

“I know it will make you uncomfortable.”

“And I’ll have you there beside me.”

He threw her a glance. “I will not be able to stop people from looking at you, Hawke.”

“Do you think me so repressed and demure?” He made a little noise, eyes moving over her features. “Fen.”

“Are you prepared for vulgur talk, half-dressed people of any gender, and to interrogate a whore?”

“No.”

“Hence my offer. I can surely get the information out of him.”

“You can take the lead, but I’m coming,” she insisted.

They paused outside the brothel. It wasn’t dark outside, but the red lantern district was so tightly packed with buildings, and things strung between them, it threw the entire block into a sense of twilight. He moved closer to her, adjusting her cloak over her shoulders so it covered more of her, and then spent a moment to rearrange her hair so it fell down her and revealed very little of her skin. She didn’t argue, but her eyes did follow his movements, wondering his thoughts. His face was set into the mask he often wore when he was hiding emotions, and he made not a single noise as he fixed her for the brothel.

“You’re jealous,” she finally whispered. Fenris had his hands on her shoulders, looking her over to be sure she looked presentable as a warrior, and no one might mistake her for a whore. At that comment, though, his eyes came up to hers, his green onto her golden ones. “Making sure no one else even imagines me.”

“You should be more concerned about someone wanting to hire me,” he answered. “I am an elf.”

“A very tall and talented elf,” she amended.

“Precisely.” Then he made a little noise, eyes falling from hers. “No, I am not jealous. Protective, perhaps. I do not look forward to explaining why you were sobbing to your mother later. She’d never forgive me.”

“Fenris,” she whispered, but he just pulled away. He turned towards the door, but waited for her to join him before they entered into the brothel.