The next few days were quiet. However, Athenril had a lead on a job for Abigail, so Abigail took Varric and Bethany and went to meet the contact Athenril had specified.
The person in question was a dwarf named Anso, an individual that Varric knew in passing. Anso was skittish and jumpy, never a good sign, but he needed help and was willing to pay them a great deal for it. As far as he knew, the property (he wouldn't tell them what it was, specifically) had been taken to the Alienage, but Anso didn't have to means to deal with bandits and thieves.
“We'll get it back for you,” Abigail assured him.
After Anso was out of earshot, the three of them looked at each other.
“This smells bad,” Varric said.
“It does,” Abigail agreed. “What do you think is really going on?”
“I don’t know,” Bethany said. “But we should go to the Alienage and see if we can find out. Maybe Sigrun or Velanna or Merrill would know more.”
They made their way to the Alienage, and found it extremely quiet. Sigrun, however, was hovering under the Vhenadahl. She was dressed in heavy plate armor, and a hammer was slung over her back.
“Sigrun?” Abigail said, taking in her armor and weapon. “What are you doing here?”
Sigrun blinked at her in surprise. “Me? What are you doing here?”
Before either of them could explain, Velanna and Merrill crossed the square, each coming from a different alley. Both of them were armed as well, Velanna with a staff that had a crystal embedded in the top, Merrill's a twining figurehead. Merrill also had a long knife on her belt.
“I found nothing,” Velanna said with a shake of her head.
“Nor me,” Merrill said. “Not even a mugging!” Merrill was fascinated by muggings, and seemed oddly disappointed.
“What are you three doing out?” Abigail asked. “It's the middle of the night!”
“There's something weird going on,” Sigrun said. “Someone spotted a man in Imperial armor a few days ago, and there's been some other weirdos around too.”
“Tevinters?” Abigail asked, furrowing her brow.
“Perhaps,” Velanna said. “In any case, what are you doing here?”
“We've a job,” Abigail explained. “We’re supposed to be getting back lost property.” she and Varric exchanged a look.
“It really feels like some kind of set up,” Varric said. “Not sure what kind, exactly, but it sure feels like one.”
“I bet they have something to do with each other,” Bethany said. “Do you know about any strangers in the Alienage, smugglers or the like?”
Sigrun and Velanna glanced at each other.
“Most human criminals get chased out,” Sigrun said. “But like I said, people've seen Tevinters around...” she frowned.
“But there were a couple of humans who used a house around here,” Merrill said. “Zefris and her sister chased them away, though.”
“Who's Zefris?” Abigail asked.
“She sells wines, just there,” Merrill said, pointing to a nearby empty cart. “Oh! And the house the humans were using was right next to her—that's why she was so angry.”
“Why don't we take a look?” Abigail suggested. “It can hardly do any harm.”
There was no one in the house, but there was a large chest of dwarven make.
“Do you think that's Anso's?” Bethany said.
“Could be,” Varric said. “You see a lot of dwarven chests around here?”
They opened it. “That's strange,” Abigail said, peering into the chest. She turned it for her companions to see. “There's nothing in it.”
“Maybe it was stolen?” Merrill suggested. “Things get stolen here a lot.”
“Could well be,” Sigrun said. “I mean—no one's been here for a day or two. I don't think anyone lives here, it's not exactly unlikely.”
“Why don't we keep looking?” Abigail suggested. “I don't want to go back to Anso empty handed, at least not until I figure out what's going on.”
Outside was a group of humans in Tevinter armor. Velanna muttered a Dalish curse, and everyone took out their weapons.
“None of them is the right elf,” the woman at the front of the Tevinter group snarled to her second.
“Doesn't matter,” said her second. “Whoever enters the house, remember?”
There was no chance to stall, the Tevinters simply attacked. Lights began to go on in the Alienage, and during the fighting, a large number of insults in Dalish and Alienage pigdin were called out. Someone threw a rock at one of the Tevinters, but no one else came out to fight.
Due to the three mages, the fight was over quickly. The Tevinters had enchanted armor and there was one mage accompanying them, but he wasn't a match for them.
“What in all the Void is all this about?” demanded a loud voice from one of the apartments overhead. “Velanna? Sigrun? Merrill?”
Sigrun slung her hammer over one shoulder. “Damn Tevinters,” she called back. “Go back to bed, Lorren.”
“What are they even doing here?” Hahren Josiah came out of his home, limping on his walking stick. His silver hair fell freely down his shoulders instead of pulled back in its usual severe braid, and he looked even angrier than normal.
“Hahren Josiah,” Velanna greeted. “Ir abelas—these scum must have sprung a trap for whoever entered that house,” she pointed at the house they had just left. “Do you know anything of this?”
“He wouldn't,” came a new voice, and they all turned to look. Another elf came down the Alienage steps.
As he came into the light, it was easy to tell that he was an odd one. His hair was just as silver as the Hahren's, but his face was almost as young as Carver's. Ice-pale tattoos trailed over his warm brown skin, and glimmered slightly as he moved. He was very short, even for an elf, only about a head and shoulders taller than Varric, but stocky and muscled. His armor was spattered with blood.
“Oh, for the love of the Maker,” Hahren Josiah rolled his eyes. “And who exactly are you?”
“The one they set the trap for,” he said with a sneer, looking down at the bodies of the Tevinters. He had a very thick Tevene accent. He glanced back up at the Hahren. “I apologize. I asked Anso to set a distraction for the hunters—I had no idea they'd be so...numerous.”
“You should bloody well apologize!” Hahren Josiah exclaimed, thumping his walking stick on the cobblestones. “Waking the whole cursed Alienage up—some people have work in the morning, you know!”
“Hahren, we can take care of it,” Abigail said, stepping up. “We're the ones who got dragged into fighting, after all.”
The Hahren rolled his eyes. “Oh, lovely, some Lowtown shem solving problems instead of causing them,” he snapped. “That'd be a nice change of pace.” he turned to Velanna and Sigrun. “Would the two of you be so kind as to get the rest of these idiots out of here?” he said. “Before Zefris or one of Malana's boys gets an idea into their head?”
“What about the bodies?” Merrill said.
“We'll deal with it at a decent hour,” Josiah said. “Now, Merrill, dear, please take your friends and move this somewhere else.”
“You heard him,” Abigail said. “Come on,” she gestured to the silver-haired elf. “You can explain everything to us.”
They walked out of the Alienage.
“And don’t come back!” Josiah shouted at the new elf.
“Oh, Creators, the Hahren’s upset,” Merrill said, worried.
“We did wake him and half the Alienage up,” Sigrun pointed out.
Merrill clucked her tongue, worried. “Maybe we could help put better walls up? Stop anyone else like that coming in?”
“You,” Velanna jabbed a finger at the unfamiliar elf. “Explain.”
“Those soldiers were Imperial bounty hunters, sent to retrieve a magister's lost property,” he said. “Namely myself.” he rolled his eyes.
“Oh, no,” Merrill covered her mouth. “You aren't a slave, are you?”
“I am not a slave,” he snapped, clenching his fists. “My name is Fenris.”
“That's a lovely name!” Merrill said. “Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“A small wolf.”
“No.” Fenris glowered at her, his curious tattoos catching the light.
“How do we get from them trying to find you to us having an all-out fight in the Alienage?” Abigail asked, trying to get the conversation back on track.
“They wanted to draw me out into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could hardly face them alone. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely.”
“So you hired a merc group with a go-between, so you could spring the hunters' trap on the mercs instead of yourself?” Varric asked. He shook his head. “It'd be clever if I weren't the one in the trap.”
“You are unscathed. I see no problem.” Fenris folded his arms.
“There's a problem in waking up half the Alienage,” Sigrun said. “We’re never going to hear the end of it now.”
“There is also a problem in four mages running around freely, but you are not speaking of that.” Fenris’ eyes were on each of the mages, his gaze suspicious.
“Do you have a problem with mages?” Abigail asked.
Fenris' lip curled. “If you knew magisters as I did, you too would have a problem with your kind.”
“But we aren't magisters,” Merrill said.
“You of all people should know how insulting it is to compare elvhen to Tevinter magisters,” Velanna snapped. “You are an elf yourself!”
“Yeah, and I'm pretty sure Velanna would murder any magister she ran into,” Varric offered helpfully.
“Magic is more dangerous than any difference of race,” Fenris snapped.
“But you're covered in magic,” Merrill pointed out.
“Is that him bending the Fade?” Abigail asked. “I was having a hard time pinning it down.”
“It's like you're casting some spell,” Bethany told Fenris, her expression curious. “But I don't know what it is.”
“I am casting no spells!” Fenris pinched the bridge of his nose—an interesting gesture, as his hands were covered by very sharp gauntlets. “Do you not see these markings?” he tapped his chin, where the strange tattoos trailed from his lower lip, down his jaw, and over his neck.
“I saw, but I thought they were just pretty,” Merrill said.
“You are daft.”
“I am not! I just don't know what they are!”
“Lyrium,” Fenris gave a heavy sigh. “A magister's experiment—lyrium branded into my flesh, to see what it would do.”
“Well, that makes you practically a mage in a funny sort of way, doesn't it?” Merrill said.
Fenris’ eyes flashed. “No, it does not!”
“Enough,” Abigail raised a hand. “Now, Fenris—we aren't really happy about being tricked this way, and I know the Alienage isn't happy we had a fight there--”
“That is not of my doing. The Tevinters chose to operate there.”
“Which is...odd, and very bad,” Abigail said. “In any case, if they really were slavers trying to recapture you, we can help you.”
“We’re not really big fans of slavery,” Varric said.
“Why didn’t you just ask us for help in the first place?” Bethany wanted to know. “No one in Kirkwall likes slavery very much.”
“It would have been too dangerous,” Fenris said with a wave of his hand. “And too much attention would have been drawn to me. A go-between was the best solution.”
“Fine, fine,” Abigail said. “As long as we still get paid.”
“What? Oh—yes, of course,” Fenris said. “I do not have money on me at the moment, as it is the dead of night in Kirkwall...”
“Makes sense,” Varric said with a shrug.
“But when I am through with my next task, you shall be paid.”
“And what is your next task?” Abigail asked. “As I said, we can help you with it.”
“The magister who sent these hunters is still here in this city,” Fenris said. “I must confront him before he escapes.”
Abigail nodded. “Right then. We can help you capture him.”
“Why?”
“If there is a slaver like that in town, I want to know about it,” Abigail said. “We cannot just let a slaver run around doing whatever he wants. Take us to him.”
Fenris narrowed his eyes at them.
“In any case, you just said you had trouble taking on lots of people on your own,” she said. “What happens if you are surprised by a group? We can watch your back for you.”
“We're already out here,” Varric pointed out. “Might as well.”
Fenris looked at all of them, sizing them up. “If you must,” he said at length. “Follow me—his mansion is in Hightown, we must be quick if he is not to escape us.”
“When did he get here?” Varric asked. “I'm pretty sure I'd've heard of a Tevinter magister setting up shop.”
“He is using an assumed name,” Fenris growled. “He knows well of the hostility of the south, and the particular hate Kirkwall has of mages.”
“Well, the Templars don't like them,” Sigrun said. “Everyone else seems to be busy with their own problems.”
“And do these problems include magic?”
“Only when you go to the Sundermount,” Merrill said. She paused. “Well, there are a lot more nasty things in Kirkwall than anywhere I've been before,” she elaborated. “I think it's because the Gallows are so close. Makes everyone just miserable.”
Fenris furrowed his brow at her, not understanding, but he didn't push the issue. Instead he turned to Abigail. “What was in the chest?” Fenris asked. “The one they kept in the house?”
“Nothing,” Abigail said. “It was empty.”
Fenris frowned. “I suppose it was too much to hope for.”
“Were you expecting something?” Merrill asked.
Fenris shook his head. “It no longer matters.”
“Are you sure? What if--”
“It is not important,” Fenris insisted, and they left it at that.
The mansion they came to was tall, and the building itself was of a more Tevinter style than the more modern Kirkwall style. That wasn’t uncommon in and of itself, especially with older buildings.
“Is this the place?” Abigail asked, looking up at it with a critical eye.
Fenris gave one short, sharp nod. His expression was closed and sour, his brows drawn together. His shoulders were hunched and he shifted from foot to foot. His feet were bare, contrasting with his metal armor.
“Anything we should know?” Varric asked.
“He will have traps,” Fenris said. “Demons.”
“Oh, I can take care of those!” Merrill said. She pulled the knife from her belt and squinted at the door. “Only once we're inside, though.”
Fenris' eyes darted from Merrill to her long knife. “You are a mage. What need have you for a blade?”
“Oh, it's not for them,” she assured him. “It's for me.”
“What?” Fenris narrowed his eyes at her.
“We can explain later,” Abigail said. “We need to take care of the magister now.”
Fenris immediately kicked the door in.
“Subtle,” Varric muttered.
They went inside. “Danarius!” Fenris bellowed. “Show yourself!”
The house was quiet. At least, it was until they moved further inside, and suddenly it was filled with demons.
The fight was confusing, with spells flying everywhere and Fenris, Varric and Sigrun trying not to hit anyone with their weapons.
Merrill sliced open her arm, and a stream of blood was flung out into the air. The demons fell back, and the entire world suddenly felt more real and solid, the demons less strong.
Fenris exclaimed a Tevinter curse and brought his sword up, pointing it at Merrill. Merrill ignored him and forced the demons back more.
“What are you doing?” Fenris demanded.
“What are you doing?” Abigail asked, grabbing his sword arm. “She's getting the demons to leave off!”
“With blood magic!”
“They don't much like blood magic,” Merrill said, offhand. “Give me another minute and I'll have them back in the Fade.”
“That makes no sense,” Fenris said.
“Of course it does!” Merrill sliced open her other arm, and with another spray of blood, the demons became insubstantial, softer. The world tilted for a minute, then righted itself, and then they were alone in the house. “There—much better.”
Fenris stared at her, then at the others. “She is a blood mage,” he said, as if they somehow hadn't understood the first time.
“Yes, we're all very clear on that,” Bethany sighed.
“How did you--” Fenris waved his hands, the wild gesticulation making his confusion clear. “This does not—how are you not an abomination?” he demanded of her. “Why are you even here?”
“Why does everyone think blood magic means people will turn into abominations?” Merrill asked with a sigh.
“Because that's what happens,” Bethany muttered.
“Don't be silly.” Merrill shook her head. “Demons can't hardly make heads or tails of a blood mage.”
Fenris looked baffled. “..later,” he growled. “We can deal with it later.”
He kept a close eye on Merrill as they went through the house, which was empty. There was no one there. A few magical traps and more mundane ones (Merrill narrowly avoided getting caught in a huge bear trap), but other than that, everyone was gone.
They finished searching the house and came back to the main room.
“Gone,” Fenris growled. “I'd hoped—but it does not matter any longer.” he shook his head, his silver hair hanging in his eyes. “I assume Danarius left valuables here—take them if you wish.” he began to walk towards the door.
“Where are you going?” Abigail asked.
“Outside.”
Fenris left them, and Abigail sighed. “Varric, go make sure he doesn't vanish,” she said.
“Sure,” Varric shrugged.
Abigail and her companions looted the place, which indeed had a large number of valuables. Then they went outside, where Fenris and Varric were talking quietly in the shadow of the mansion.
Fenris looked up when he saw them. “So, I seem to have found myself in the company of four mages,” he said with a scowl. “One of whom is a blood mage.”
“Well, when you hire people from Lowtown, you take what you can get,” Sigrun said with a shrug.
“I did not hire you or them,” he pointed to Velanna, then Merrill.
“No, you merely set Tevinters upon our Alienage!” Velanna snapped.
“That was not of my doing!” Fenris snarled back. “The hunters assumed I would be hiding there—there was no way for me to remove their presence without advertising my own!”
“You didn't have to lie to get our help,” Abigail said. “Couldn't you have told the Guard or the Hahren?”
“There was at least one mage with the Tevinters,” Varric pointed out. “Bet you could've gone to the Templars with that.”
Fenris scowled. “The Templars would as soon arrest me for these,” he held out his arm, showing the gleaming lyrium marks. “I have tried to appeal to southern Templars before—I would have thought they would consider a Tevinter magister a viable threat, but they always thought me more so.”
The group collectively sighed.
“The definitely sounds like Templars,” Abigail said, shaking her head.
“You could still have gone to the Hahren of the Alienage, if you were worried about the Templars or the Guard,” Sigrun pointed out.
Fenris blinked at them. “That had...not occurred to me,” he admitted. “The elves of Tevinter could hardly defend against hunters.”
Merrill made a sad, sympathetic noise, and Velanna scowled.
“The Alienage here isn't like that!” Merrill said. “They'll throw things if they don't like you.”
“Or use blood magic, if you are any example to go by,” Fenris said with a sneer.
“Oh, that reminds me!” Merrill raised the arm she had cut, hummed a little, and the cuts healed over completely. “Anyway--”
Fenris wrinkled his brow. “What did you do?”
“Healed myself. See?” she held out her arm to him.
“So you are a healer as well as a blood mage?” Poor Fenris now looked more confused than ever.
“A spirit healer, you mean?” Merrill shook her head. “Oh dear, no, not me. Bethany is, though.” she pointed to Bethany. “I just do blood magic.”
Fenris stared from her arm, to her face, then back at her arm again. “Then...how did you...?”
“You can heal with blood magic.”
“No, you can't.”
“I just did it.”
“I...” Fenris continued to look baffled. He sighed and closed his eyes a minute. “I imagine I appear ungrateful,” he said at length. “Nothing could be further from the truth. I am afraid I don’t currently have the coin Anso promised with me--”
“Just get it to us as soon as you can,” Abigail said. It only made sense that someone wandering Kirkwall in the middle of the night would not have much money on him. “What are you going to do now?”
Fenris shrugged. “Perhaps I could leave Kirkwall, go further south...perhaps there is somewhere I could run that Danarius would not follow.” he frowned. “But I no longer wish to run.”
“So does that mean you're gonna stay here?” Varric asked.
“I suppose that it does.”
“In that case, do not set foot in the Alienage unless you're sure there's no Tevinters on your tail,” Velanna snapped.
“He could come live in the Alienage if he wants to!” Merrill protested. “I bet Hahren Josiah would understand if Fenris explained.”
“I bet he’d throw something at Fenris,” Sigrun countered. “Or sic his grandkids on him.”
Fenris blinked at them. “I do not wish to live in the Alienage,” he said. “As I see it, there is a perfectly serviceable house that is currently abandoned.” he pointed to the mansion behind them.
Abigail raised her eyebrows. “That's certainly true.” a thought came to her. “If my family paid you rent, could we live here?”
“What?”
“Well, we're living in Lowtown with my uncle, but we’d really prefer not to. That house is too big for one person.”
“Two mages living in a derelict Hightown manor?” Fenris grimaced. “If you wish to avoid Templars, that is exactly the opposite of what you should do.”
“You just said that you get attention from Templars,” Abigail pointed out.
“I am not another two mages.”
“Look, I don't want to cut things short, but maybe we could talk about this sometime that's not one in the morning?” Varric suggested.
“Right...”
“We should get back to the Alienage,” Sigrun said. “See if there's anything we have to deal with.”
“It was lovely meeting you, Fenris!” Merrill said with a little wave.
Fenris had a peculiar expression, like he was caught between anger and confusion. “Goodbye,” he said at length.
Merrill, Velanna and Sigrun left. Abigail, Bethany and Varric left as well, with a promise that Abigail would come see Fenris in the morning.
True to his word. Fenris was still in the mansion the next day. He'd cleaned it up some, getting rid of bodies and smashed furniture, and when Abigail arrived, he was pacing the front hall, restless.
He startled when she entered the door, and then scowled.
“You may want to look into locks,” Abigail advised.
Fenris just growled.
“So, what do you plan to do?” Abigail folded her arms.
“I...am unsure,” Fenris admitted. “Oh—here is your payment,” he handed her a coinpurse, which she accepted and pocketed. “Do you still...wish your family to stay here?”
Abigail looked around at the house. “I don’t know,” she said. “It might be dangerous for two mages to live in Hightown. You were right about that.”
Fenris looked relieved, and Abigail realized that he was still very tense, shoulders drawn tight. He still wore armor, not having removed any of it, and though his sword was not strapped to his back, it was within easy reach, leaning against a nearby wall.
Abigail rubbed the back of her head. “Well...” she said. “If you need work, Varric could probably lend you a hand. And if you hear any more about slavers, definitely tell us.”
Fenris nodded his head once.
“We also know a healer in Darktown,” she added. “He could probably help you out if you got into any scrapes.”
“Thank you,” Fenris said. “But I have little need of magical healers.”
“Alright,” Abigail shrugged. “So...I’ve never seen anything like those marks. You say a magister did this to you?”
Fenris nodded again. “You and the other—mages—mentioned that they make it appear as if I am a mage,” he said, his eyes narrowed. “The Templars I have approached had a similar misconception. Why?”
“They’re bending the Fade around you,” Abigail explained. “It’s as if you’re always casting some kind of spell. You really can’t tell?”
“No.”
“Are you sure you aren’t a mage? Maybe your magic was dormant, and this—lyrium experiment—did something to it. I don’t think injecting lyrium into anyone’s skin would do anything but kill them, if they were a normal person.”
“If I was ever a mage before having these markings, I would not know,” Fenris said. “I recall nothing before having them. In any case, if a slave is found to have magical abilities, he is freed.”
“But you have magic,” Abigail said. “If it’s not magic you were born with, it’s like having an enchantment bound to your skin. You’re—well, I suppose not a traditional mage, but I don’t know what else to call you.”
Fenris shook his head with a scowl. “No. You are wrong.”
Abigail shrugged. “It’s enough magic for the Templars to be on you, isn’t it?”
Fenris’ glare grew, if it were possible, even darker.