“Our house belongs to a slaver ring?”
Abigail came home to her mother and Gamlen having a shouting match.
“Last time I checked, yes!” Gamlen said, folding his arms in such a way that made him look rather like a sulky child. “But that's out of my hands—I sold it to some above-board people, next thing I know, it's all criminals!”
“Why did you sell it at all?” Leandra demanded.
“I was trying to clean up the mess Father left!” Gamlen exclaimed.
“What's going on?” Abigail muttered to Carver.
“Gamlen sold Mother’s house to some criminals,” Carver whispered back. “She is not happy.”
"Well, that only makes sense, I suppose."
“What did the will even say, Gamlen?” Leandra snapped. “Was the house even left to you?”
“It doesn't matter!” Gamlen retorted. “It was read, then put in the vault. No one needs to bother anymore!”
“Well, that certainly doesn't sound like you're avoiding the question at all,” Carver grumbled. Gamlen glared at him.
“We could try and get the will back ourselves,” Abigail suggested.
“What good would that do?” Gamlen said.
“Well, for one, you're not exactly the most trustworthy source,” Bethany informed him. “We could read it for ourselves and see what it had to say.”
“And it might be useful in taking back the Amell estate,” Abigail mused.
Carver snorted. “Is there really a point to that?”
“No, there isn't,” Gamlen snapped.
“I am not listening to you anymore,” Abigail pointed at Gamlen. “You sold a house to slavers.”
“Should we really be so focused on the past?” Carver asked.
“Carver, if you get a steady job, then you can complain about the methods we use to get money.” Abigail informed him.
Carver fell into a sullen silence.
“Anyway, I don't really like the idea of a slaver ring operating in Kirkwall,” Abigail said. “Who do we know who might be able to help?” she asked Bethany.
“Fenris, and Velanna, too,” Bethany said.
“Mm,” Abigail nodded. “Could be.”
“Are we seriously doing this?” Carver asked, heaving a sigh.
“You do not have to come if you don't want to,” Abigail informed him.
“Are you already planning on doing this?” Gamlen said, aghast. “You’ve been back home ten bloody minutes!”
“Should I not be planning anything?”
“What's past is past, girl. Don't dwell on it.”
Abigail made a show of turning her back on Gamlen to face Carver, Bethany, and Leandra instead.
“So,” Abigail said. “What should we do?”
“If you think you can do it, you should,” Leandra said. She bit her nails. “Oh—curse it, if I’d just taken more fencing and less etiquette lessons...”
“We wouldn’t ask you to fight, Mother,” Bethany assured her, putting a hand on her arm.
“And why not?” Leandra rubbed her forehead, and shook her head. “It’s my family’s home, for the love of the Maker!”
“We will do it, Mother,” Abigail assured her. “It’s our home as well. And even Gamlen’s.”
“We can't do it with just the three of us,” Bethany said. “Maybe we could bring Varric along…? Fenris, definitely.”
“Is Fenris that man who hired you for the Alienage job?” Carver asked.
Abigail nodded. “He has a bad history with slavers.”
“He’d be the one who drew all those Tevinters to the Alienage.” Carver sat back and folded his arms.
“Yes.”
“And you’re sure he’s trustworthy?”
Abigail looked at Carver. “I only need someone I can trust to fight with. And I’ve fought with him before.”
Carver raised his hands and leaned back. “Fine. It’s not like it’s my neck—oh wait,” he glowered at her. “It is.”
“Carver...” Bethany sighed.
“You met this man...how?” Leandra glanced from Abigail to Bethany.
“We were doing a job,” Bethany explained. “He’s—he’s a good swordsman. Very strong.”
“And very clever,” Abigail added. “And he’d have more of a reason to kill slavers than to stab us in the back.”
Leandra didn’t look convinced. “And you’re sure…?”
“Yes. Why, do you want to meet him?”
“That’s alright, dear,” Leandra sighed. “I—have left too many things in your hands to worry about it now.”
“Thank you.”
“Although I would like to meet some of your...business partners,” Leandra added. “That Tethras fellow seemed pleasant enough.”
“You’re just going along with this?” Carver demanded. “Mother, please, we don’t need to do this!”
Leandra ran a hand through her hair. “And what would you suggest, Carver?” she asked him.
“I’d build something new,” Carver said, puffing out his chest. “We don’t need to look to the past.”
“New like what?” Abigail asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “I’m open to ideas.”
“Well, I...” Carver faltered and rubbed the back of his head. “I’d think of something.”
“You’re not thinking of anything now.”
Carver glared at her.
“Carver, come on,” Bethany sighed and patted him on the shoulder. “We can take you to meet Fenris, and then we can see about getting those slavers out of the house.”
Fenris’ mansion was much as it had been the last time Abigail had seen it. It was dark and smelled rather strongly of spilled wine and burnt food.
“This is where he lives?” Carver breathed, looking around.
“For now, I suppose,” Abigail said. “Fenris!” she called.
“You need not shout,” Fenris appeared at the top of the stairs. He was out of his armor for once, dressed in a long gray tunic and dark leggings. His silver hair was a mess and he glared at them as he came down the stairs. He was barefoot, as usual. In one hand he held his sword, and he leaned it against the banister.
He looked at Carver, eyes narrowed.
“This is my brother, Carver,” Abigail said.
Carver stared at Fenris, wide-eyed. “Hello.” he managed.
Fenris gave a short, sharp nod before turning his attention back to Abigail. “What is it you wish from me? Why are you here?”
“Fenris, we're going to get rid of a slaver ring,” Abigail said. “Do you want to help? It would be for free but we could use the extra hands.”
“A slaver ring?” Fenris scowled. “You hardly needed to ask.”
Abigail nodded in approval. “I want to ask Velanna, too, but I’m worried that it would make the team too mage-heavy.”
Fenris' lips thinned. “It would,” he agreed.
Fenris agreed to go with them, and they all went down to Darktown to take the back way around to the Amell mansion.
The Amell cellars went down so far they could be accessed from Darktown. Leandra had explained it, as well as providing them a basic map of the floorplan.
“I suppose our family really was important,” Carver said when they found the door into the cellars. He looked at the passage, eyebrows raised, and knocked on the side.
“Were you confused by the noble title?” Abigail asked, inspecting the passage and lighting a small flame in her hand to light the way.
Carver glowered at her.
They went through the house, picking off slavers from the bottom up. There was some worry about the magic being cast, as slavers would absolutely sell out mages to the Templars or attempt to capture and sell the mages themselves, so Abigail and Bethany stuck to mundane means of fighting for the most part. Quarterstaffs were a useful weapon, both for those with magic and those without.
Fenris was of great help. His lyrium markings warped the Fade around him and let him be faster and quieter than the average warrior. He also had a very unsettling trick of phasing his hand into someone else’s body, then ripping it out, usually instantly killing his opponent. He was quickly drenched in blood, moreso than the rest of them.
Finally, they got into the family vault. First off, they started looting everything they could carry. Then they got into the lockbox which held the will and removed it.
“Come on,” Abigail said. “We should take this back to Mother.”
They left the house, the slavers gone. Fenris returned to his own home, and the Hawkes to theirs. They wanted to read the will with Leandra present.
“So, I have good news,” Abigail said when they came through the door. “We have more money.”
“Better news,” Bethany said, holding up the envelope with the will in it. “Here's Grandfather's will, Mother.”
Leandra took the envelope and read quickly through the will. Leandra looked down at the will, covering her mouth with her hand.
“So?” Abigail prompted. “What does it say?”
“It says Father left everything to me,” Leandra said. “And my family.”
Slowly, all three of them looked to Gamlen, who folded his arms.
“It's hardly like you were here to claim the inheritance,” Gamlen sniffed.
“You absolute bastard,” Leandra snapped, clenching her fists.
“Who's the one who ran off the Ferelden?” Gamlen demanded. “I had to stay behind and deal with your mess—you didn't even come home for the funeral, Leandra, don't blame this all on me!”
“Don't you dare,” Leandra snarled, advancing on Gamlen, who actually backed up a step or two. “By the time I finally got the news, the twins were a week old, and you'd had the funeral three months earlier!”
“And you wouldn't have gotten the news so bloody late if you had just stayed in Kirkwall and not run off with that apostate!”
“Gamlen, if you'd said anything—anything at all—I could have started petitioning the Viscount for our property months ago—a year ago!”
“It doesn't matter,” Gamlen insisted. “You can't just get the house back by whining to the Viscount! No money means no title—and two apostate brats definitely means no title! It was bad enough we had the mage cousin, but the two of you, who aren’t even in a Circle? That couldn’t be worse.”
Abigail and Bethany both scowled.
“Maybe you should repeat that when all three of us aren't armed,” Carver growled.
Gamlen rolled his eyes. “You lot should have bloody well gotten used to Lowtown by now,” he snapped. “All this nonsense with your dwarven friend and now this—it's pointless.”
“Says the man who hasn't managed to get a decent job in all this time?” Bethany said quietly.
“Neither have any of you!”
“No one wants to hire a Ferelden refugee,” Carver said.
“Aveline seems to be doing just fine.”
“None of that is a good reason why you haven't gotten a job, and you wanted to keep the facts of the Amell inheritance from us,” Abigail said, putting her hands on her hips. “I'm sure the Viscount doesn't want more criminals and slavers setting up in Hightown—with this maybe we can at least keep the house vacant instead of some sort of slaver den.”
“Don't bother,” Gamlen said, waving a hand.
“If I wanted life advice from a drunk and a gambler, I'd ask for it,” Abigail said.
“Oh, yes, complain about me, when I'm the one keeping a roof over your head!”
“You’re keeping a roof over our head?” Leandra exclaimed, incredulous. “I believe it’s Abigail and Carver who brought in last month’s rent, and you still don’t seem to have brought in any!”
“Face it, Uncle—we bring in more money than you do, and that's with the expedition and no steady work. You need us more than we need you.” Bethany told him, folding her arms.
“Mm,” Carver chuckled. “Pretty sure you'd've gotten kicked out on your ass if it wasn't for us.”
Gamlen threw up his hands. “Waste your time all you like, it doesn’t matter to me,” he hissed.
Leandra decided that she would try to petition the Viscount for rights to the Amell property, citing the will as evidence that Gamlen had had no leave by which to sell it.