Bethany and Carver were uncertain about the job.
“Should we really go and see Petrice?” Bethany asked. “It doesn't really sound like our kind of work.”
“It doesn’t sound like any kind of work,” Carver said.
“I'm going,” Abigail said. “I want to know what her game is.”
“What if it's a trap?” Bethany asked. “What if it's just some new way of looking for apostates?”
“I'll bring Aveline,” Abigail said. “She'll probably want to know about Chantry people being up to no good anyway. Fenris said he'd come, too—if I get Varric, Isabela, Sigrun or Nathan, then I'd be the only mage.”
“You're already leaving me out?” Carver said, raising his eyebrows. “I haven't said if I wanted to come or not.”
“You can if you want,” Abigail said with a shrug. “I’m certainly not stopping you.”
“It's more the fact you didn't think of me in the first place,”
“Carver...” Bethany sighed.
“Look, I'm the one who draws less attention than either of you—I don't have to hide from Templars. Why is it that you're the one who calls the shots?” Carver rolled his shoulders and planted his feet.
“I don't know, Carver, perhaps because you never bothered?” Abigail suggested.
“I would if--”
“But you don't. I am not exactly very pleased that I've somehow been made de-facto head of the family, you know. Perhaps if you bothered to do something other than follow me around, this wouldn't be an issue for you.”
Carver scowled and put his hand down on the table. “I don't just follow you around!”
“Then I hardly know what it is that you're complaining about, quite honestly.”
“Stop it, both of you,” Bethany snapped.
“I am fairly confident I wasn’t doing anything,” Abigail said, her tone frosty.
“What would it take for the pair of you to stop fighting all the time?” Bethany demanded.
“Mayhaps if Carver got an actual job, then he can complain about what I do.” Abigail stared at Carver with eyes like flint.
“You know no one's going to hire a refugee here!” Carver snapped.
“Then go sign on with a merc company or someone with lower hiring standards. You've a sword arm, and it's not exactly a change from what we usually do.”
“I'm not going to sign on with mercs!”
“Then find. Another. Job.”
“And how am I supposed to do that, exactly?”
“I don't know, Carver, Bethany and I are far more unemployable than you are, and we manage to find work.” Abigail tapped one finger on her upper arm. “If you cannot find work on your own, don't complain about me finding it for you.”
“Unemployable?” Carver scoffed. “People are falling all over themselves to give you jobs!”
“Maybe if you were less obnoxious, people would do the same for you,” Abigail said.
“Abigail!” Bethany exclaimed. “Now, honestly, both of you shut up.” she put her hands on the table. “Abigail—go find Aveline and tell her about Petrice, alright?”
“As you wish,” Abigail waved a hand and got up from the table. “Maybe when I'm back Carver will have unstuck his head from his ass.” she left before either of them could say anything else.
She found Aveline, whose expression grew more grim as Abigail explained the situation.
“This definitely sounds suspicious, at the very best.” Aveline said with a deep frown between her brows.
“Do not come as the Guard-Captain,” Abigail instructed her. “She wouldn't even have bothered asking us if we didn't look like people who would not be missed.”
“A Guard might just scare her off,” Aveline nodded. “You're right.”
They rounded up Fenris, Varric and Isabela. Varric and Isabela weren't as interested as Aveline and Fenris were, but Abigail and Aveline both felt it might be useful to have backup.
Petrice had directed them to a small, out of the way alley that they came to when the sun went down. Petrice herself arrived several hours after dark.
“Those three—they weren't with you last night,” Petrice said when she arrived, looking at Varric, Aveline and Isabela with her pale eyes narrowed.
“Any work you can get, right?” Aveline said, shrugging and shifting her shield more comfortably on her back.
Petrice pressed her lips together, studying them as if they were specimens under glass. After a long moment of deep consideration, she nodded. “Very well. Come, this way.” she lead them to a tiny, rundown warehouse that as far as Abigail had known, was abandoned.
“Inside,” Petrice instructed.
The warehouse was dingy, dark and smelled very strongly of fish. In it, Petrice's Templar friend was already waiting. He inclined his head in their direction, Templar plate gleaming in the dim light, but he didn't say anything.
“Now, Sister,” Abigail said, one eye on the Templar. “What's the work you have for us?”
“I have a charge who needs passage from the city,” Petrice explained, folding her hands inside her sleeves.
“Hire them a ship,” Isabela said, twirling one of her daggers in a free hand. “Why are we involved?”
“This charge is...of a delicate nature,” Patrice said, shifting her gaze away from them. “I think you will agree that the nature of this escort makes it...unique. I cannot have it connected to me.”
Aveline folded her arms. “Is this illegal?” she asked.
“You hardly seem the type to shun illegal work,” Petrice said. “But no, I would not say that it's strictly illegal.”
“Oh, good,” Isabela rolled her eyes and spun her dagger the other way around. “We're off to a lovely start here.”
“Clearly,” Aveline growled. “So—who is your charge?”
Petrice opened a door into another room, and gestured for the occupant inside to come forward. Out came an enormous Qunari man, large even for a kossith, but what was more unsettling was the weighty iron collar around his neck, and the mask on his face. His mouth was held closed with stitches.
As one, they all stepped back as the Qunari approached them.
“He is a survivor of infighting with the Tal-Vashoth on the coast. I call him Ketojan,” Petrice said. “A bridge between worlds.”
“Is that his name?” Abigail asked, looking up at the enormous man. He was a lighter gray than the other kossith she had seen, his skin with a somewhat sickly hue to it.
Petrice shrugged. “I could not say. He has not told us.”
“Do you think that has something to do with the stitching on his mouth?” Abigail said. “Why didn’t you cut it of him?
“He refused to let us remove it.”
“That does make sense,” Fenris said, speaking for the first time and drawing everyone’s attention to him. “Your charity is a lost cause, Sister. If a Saarebas does not free themselves, they will not take freedom when it is offered.”
Petrice regarded Fenris with a wary expression, looking him up and down, her eyes lingering on his lyrium markings. “And what would you know of it?”
“...I have been to Seheron,” Fenris said after a moment. “I know their tongue, and some of their culture.” he glanced at Ketojan, green eyes level. “Your impulse to free him is wasted.”
“You know Qunlat?” Aveline asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise.
Fenris shrugged and looked away, brow knitted. “I am hardly fluent in it.”
Petrice scowled. “Would you wish this mage returned to his brutal kin?”
“Why do you want him free so badly?” Abigail asked. “He can't be happy, but if he's a mage, why bother freeing him at all?”
“Wouldn't the Circle be a better option?” Aveline said.
“No—the Viscount would learn of it, and would simply return Ketojan to the Arishok.” Petrice said.
“And why is that a problem for you?” Varric asked, his eyes narrowed.
“Examples such as he will show the Chantry that the Qunari presence in Kirkwall is not merely a test of faith—it is an open challenge. He is an example of how cruel the Qunari are, even to their own people.”
“And allowing him to run around outside of Kirkwall will help that...how?” Isabela asked, propping a hand on her hip and leaning back on one leg. “If you think he's so important, why don't you bring him to the Grand Cleric?”
Petrice frowned. “Do you wish to take on this work, or not?”
“We have to talk about it first,” Abigail said, and lead the group out of earshot.
“This is some sort of trap,” Aveline said.
“Read my mind, big girl,” Isabela muttered with a sidelong glance towards Petrice. “Fenris? You know Qunari—what do you think about this?”
Fenris glanced at the Saarebas. “Qunari mages are known for escaping,” he said. “It is a strange thing—they either have no desire to escape, or that is the only thing they wish. There is no in-between. She said he was a survivor of a skirmish between Tal-Vashoth and the Kirkwall Qunari?” he shook his head. “That does not make sense. No Qunari would leave a Saarebas alive if the rest of his watchers were dead—no Tal-Vashoth would leave a Qunari alive, especially a Saarebas.”
“Maybe it was a happy accident,” Abigail suggested. “Perhaps for some reason he survived, and he's confused because he doesn't know what to do next, if he wasn't planning on escaping.”
“Perhaps that is the case,” Fenris inclined his head. “But this entire affair would be better suited to the Arishok, or the Circle.”
“What about one of the Vashothari groups?” Abigail asked. “There's a Vashoth mercenary company in town--”
“There's a merchant boat that's just Vashoth,” Isabela mentioned.
“Many Vashothari groups are home to apostates,” Fenris' lip curled a little. “But even Vashothari mages would be loathe to accept a Saarebas that didn't come to them of his own free will. He would be a liability to them. It seems this Petrice is steering the Saarebas in a direction she wishes—what for, I cannot say.”
Varric shook his head. “No, this definitely sounds like a trap,” he said. “Too many little things don't add up. Aveline?”
“I could invoke the Guard now,” Aveline said, biting her lip. “But there's no guarantee it would work—we might just get stuck with the same problem we had with the escaped healers, and be blocked again.” she shook her head. “No—I need to see how the plan plays out. Then I'll invoke the Guard.”
“I suppose, then, we need to do this,” Abigail said.
Isabela grimaced. “Right behind you,” she said. “For what it's worth...”
They returned to Petrice. “We shall do it,” Abigail said. “Are you sure we cannot take that collar off?”
“I can only do so much,” Petrice said.
“You could not find a smith to cut all that mess off him?”
“That would have been too conspicuous,” Petrice sniffed. “I suppose that is one reason the Qunari chain their mages so heavily—one can hardly hide looking like this. In any case—there is a passage to the undercity, here,” she pointed to a trap door in the corner. “It goes through the mines and tunnels under the city. It should take you out near the Wounded Coast.”
“Lovely,” Isabela drawled. “Just my idea of a good time—crawling through undercity tunnels.”
Petrice gave them a location to meet her at when they finished with the job, and then they left. Ketojan came when called. He seemed to understand both common and Qunlat, but his responsiveness didn't change when Fenris spoke Qunlat instead of common.
The undercity was mostly dull, though they kept watch for thugs and muggers.
“So, you speak Qunlat,” Aveline said to Fenris, after several moments of walking in silence.
“I believe that has been made clear.”
“The Guard has been looking for a Qunlat translator for months—you might have said something.”
“I cannot read it,” Fenris pointed out. “And I am hardly fluent--”
“We've been working with people who don't know so much as 'hello' in Qunlat,” Aveline said. “At this point, anything would be better than what we have.”
“I will...consider it,” Fenris said.
“You know, if you worked with the Guard, we could help you with your magister problem,” Aveline said.
“How so? As far as Tevinter is concerned, Danarius owns me very legally,” Fenris sneered.
“But we don't hold with slavery in the south. If you got a Kirkwall citizenship, we'd have legal means to defend you against him, especially if you have a skill we need, which you do.”
“I will consider it,” Fenris repeated. “Perhaps we should focus on the task at hand...?”
They continued to make their way through the undercity. It was revealed that Ketojan could in fact use his magic when they ran into a group of thugs and were forced into a fight.
Ketojan's magic was scattershot, not so much manipulating the Veil or the Fade as tearing at it with a violence that was startling.
“Where did you learn that?” Abigail demanded of him when the fight was over. “That's just about the worst spellwork I have ever seen—how come the Qunari don't have problems with demons, from their mages punching holes in the Veil?”
Ketojan just growled as best he could.
“I see what you mean about Saarebas being liabilities,” Abigail told Fenris with a frown. “This is—this is insane. I thought the Circles were bad enough...”
“Is the problem really so bad?” Aveline asked, a worried frown creasing her brows. “If all the Qunari mages have such poor spellwork--”
“It's a disaster waiting to happen,” Abigail said firmly. “You need to contact the Circle—Void, maybe even the Templars, and tell them that they should prepare for some sort of magical disaster if the Qunari stay here too long. Fenris? Are the Qunari known for magical accidents?”
“Saarebas are kept under such tight guard that any indication of the slightest mistake or weakness is taken care of immediately,” Fenris said. He was frowning as well. “The magisters always spoke of Saarebas with contempt—I thought it was just because the Qunari had learned to control their mages. But if what you say is true--”
“This is dangerous,” Abigail said, her tone very certain. “Even more dangerous than the ways the Circles handle it. On his own, he can't possibly control his magic without someone teaching him. He’d be a danger to everyone around him.”
“Maybe we should take him to the Circle,” Aveline suggested. “But—no, that wouldn't work. The Viscount would probably send him back again.”
“The Qunari would never allow for a magical accident,” Fenris said.
“But isn't the whole point of accidents is that you don't mean for them to happen?” Isabela said. “He's an accident,” she nodded at Ketojan.
“And—just tearing at the Veil with magic, like he did, is dangerous,” Abigail said. “All it takes is for one tiny spell to go awry, without anyone even noticing, and it could blow up in your face.”
“One minute everything's fine, the next, the dead start walking around.” Varric said.
“Exactly.” Abigail agreed.
“Well—we can't simply set him free, then,” Aveline said.
“Are you sure the Vashothari wouldn't take him?” Isabela asked Fenris. “I know a merc group that could do with a mage--”
“A trained one,” Fenris said. “If Abigail is correct, he is barely trained at all.”
“He'd have a better chance with the Vashothari than anyone else,” Varric said. “Think maybe Anders knows anyone in the business of getting people away from the Qun?”
“If he is, we can't exactly ask him,” Abigail pointed out. “We should get out of the undercity first, then decide what to do next.”
They made their way through the undercity, and out of the mouth of a cave on the Wounded Coast. Right at the mouth of the cave was a group of Qunari, who looked up as they approached.
“You will hold, basra vashedan,” the Qunari at the head of the group told them, holding up a hand to stop them. “I am Arvaraad, and I claim possession of the Saarebas at your heel.”
Abigail looked from Arvaraad to Ketojan, then shook her head. “Absolutely not,” she said, putting her hands down in an emphatic gesture. “You have no idea how to handle magic.”
Arvaraad scowled. “You cannot dictate what is done with him.”
“Neither can you! Look—this mage has no training. He’s going to cause an accident if he continues like this. If you don't care about anything else, pay attention to facts! Treating your mages like this is dangerous to you.”
“You know not what you speak of,” Arvaraad proclaimed. “You are unknowing basra. You claim to speak of danger, yet you willingly leave yourself open to it.”
Abigail straightened her back. “This—this is more dangerous than every mage in the Circle,” she said, gesturing to Ketojan. “Have you ever been to the Sundermount? That's what happens when the Veil gets too thin, and if this mage here is any indication, your mages are liable to rip the Veil open by accident at any time.”
“Wait...” Isabela said, tapping her hand on her thigh. “Why are you even here? It's not like the Qunari to just wander around on the Wounded Coast, is it?”
“This Saarebas' karataam were killed by Tal-vashoth,” Arvaraad explained. “Their disposal leads only here, to Saarebas and to you, but you have only just arrived, and from the wrong direction.” Arvaraad tilted his head back. “There is something else at work here.”
“Definitely,” Isabela said, exchanging a look with Varric.
“That can be dealt with at another time,” Arvaraad said. “My role is to confine the Saarebas, it is the role of another to deal with the perversions of basra.”
“No,” Abigail snapped. “You and your people are wrong. This is dangerous and I am not having it.”
“Let your mages doom you if you wish,” Arvaraad said, taking a long rod that gleamed with magic from his belt. “Reason will be forced upon you!”
Before Arvaraad could do anything, Abigail slammed the Qunari with a Firestorm spell, allowing her and her companions to get back. The Qunari were vicious fighters, but weak to Abigail's spells—they wore no enchanted armor to protect against magic, and they didn't have dwarven tolerance of it.
Abigail shook her head when the last Qunari fell. “What a waste,” she said, picking up the rod that Arvaraad had held. It was the only enchanted item the Qunari had, but when she took it, it shattered in her hand.
Ketojan made a strange growl again, and shook his head. “I am...unbound,” he gritted, voice obstructed by the stitching on his lips, but intelligible. “It is...odd. Wrong.” he looked at them. “But you deserve...honor. Your intent deserves honor, even if it was...wrong.”
“That doesn't make sense,” Abigail said. “Fenris?”
“I can hardly know every nuance of Qunari culture,” Fenris snapped.
“I know the will of Arvaraad,” Ketojan said. “I must return as demanded. It is the wisdom of the Qun.”
“Did you not hear any of what I said?” Abigail demanded.
“I heard. I do not believe. That does not matter, in any sense.”
“Why?”
“I must return to the Qun. But I am outside my karataam. I may be corrupted, I cannot know. So the Qun demands my death.”
Abigail shook her head. “No,” she told Saarebas. “I won't let you kill yourself just because you want to be in chains again!”
“You want for choice. Is this not my choice? If you force choice, it is no longer choice. Your doubt does not make me wrong.”
“It absolutely does, because you are wrong,” Abigail said.
“This is ridiculous,” Isabela said. “What are the Qunari, a bloody death cult?”
“It is more complex than that,” Fenris said. “Death would eliminate the problem...” he shook his head. “But suicide...no. Simply because it solves the short-term problem does not make it right.”
“Well, what can we even do?” Aveline asked.
“There is one thing,” before Ketojan could respond, Abigail struck him with a stunning spell, and then a heavy sleep one in quick succession. The large Qunari collapsed, out cold.
“This...was not a good idea,” Aveline said, eyeing Ketojan.
“And why not?” Abigail asked, jutting her chin out.
“The Qunari are already annoyed enough,” Aveline rubbed her forehead. “We don't need to give them any more reason to have problems with us.”
Abigail frowned. “Why are they annoyed with us? I mean—besides this. They wouldn't even know about this yet.”
Aveline sighed. “Some idiot merchant, Jevaris Tintop, figured he could get something from them,” she explained. “Some kind of blasting powder. He kept bothering the Arishok until the Arishok threw him out, and he came to us.”
“Everyone seems to really enjoy bothering the Qunari,” Varric said. “Not the greatest idea I've ever heard.”
“Well...what do we do with him now?” Aveline asked.
“Here—Isabela, give me your blade. At least I can cut this off of him.” Abigail gestured to his face, the mask and stitches. Isabela obliged, and Abigail cut the mask from his head, then delicately worked to remove the stitches. “Maybe once he can see clearly, he'll see more clearly.” she said.
“What about that collar?” Isabela asked. “What can we do about that?”
“Perhaps I can break the chains with a spell?” Abigail said. “I do not know for certain.”
“We could take him to that Vashoth merchant,” Isabela suggested. “Her whole crew is Vashoth. Maybe they can help.”
“What's her name?” Aveline asked. “Perhaps I know her...”
“Captain Revnas,” Isabela said. “She doesn't have a surname.”
Aveline nodded. “I think I've heard of her. But how do we get him back?” she nodded at Ketojan.
“I can go get her,” Isabela said. “Just give me a few hours, I'll bring her here.”
Revnas was a Vashoth woman with long white hair that flowed freely down to her waist. She had scars around her mouth that resembled the wounds around Ketojan’s, and her horns had been cut off at the base.
She balked when she saw Ketojan.
“Oh, Maker's balls,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “Isabela--”
“I told you it was important,” Isabela said. “We don't know what to do with him. The Qunari would've killed him.”
“Yes, I figured,” Revnas said, and shook her head. “Did he want to escape? Then I can help.”
“It's a complex situation,” Abigail said. “A Chantry Sister wanted our help to lead him out of the city--”
“What?” Revnas started and frowned at her. “Why?”
“We are going to ask her that same question,” Aveline said. “For now, can you help him?”
“Look, it's not that I don't feel for him,” Revnas said, glancing at Ketojan. “We just—we aren't equipped to deal with this sort of person, if he didn't escape voluntarily.”
“Well, is there someone who is?” Abigail asked.
Revnas stroked her chin. “There's a couple people who specialize in helping Saarebas,” she said after a moment of thought. “Even voluntary escapees have problems.”
“That makes sense,” Abigail said. “He barely has any control over his magic.”
“Believe me, I know,” Revnas said, grimacing. “Tell you what—there's a woman who helped me, but she lives in Ferelden. I can get him there.” she looked down at Ketojan. “Why'd you knock him out?”
“He wanted to kill himself,” Abigail said.
“His Qun wouldn't allow him to live,” Fenris said. “So he wanted to choose to take his own life.”
“Mm,” Revnas nodded. “Yeah, that can happen.” she sighed. “Listen—Isabela, you owe me a favor for this,” she said. “But I'm not going to abandon him. I'll take him to the Keeper in Ferelden--”
“Keeper?” Varric piped up. “Like a Dalish Keeper?”
“Yeah—her Clan's pretty weird. About half-Vashoth, if you can believe it.”
“I can't, actually,” Aveline said.
Revnas shrugged. “Well, whatever, she can help. Like I said, she helped me and a whole mess of other Saarebas. She can probably help him.”
“What if she can't?” Abigail asked.
“She hasn't failed yet,” Revnas said. “I'd be hopeful. But either way, he's not your problem anymore.”
They got Ketojan onto Revnas' ship by Revnas simply taking her ship up the coast. Abigail had to cast another sleep spell on him, so Ketojan wouldn't wake and try anything, but they got him onboard alright. Revnas' crew was entirely Vashoth, one other man with the same scars and cut horns as Revnas and Ketojan. The whole crew had sympathetic but wary looks for Ketojan.
“I'll let you know how it turns out,” Revnas said. “Me? I'm not coming back here till those damn Qunari are out of the city. Can't do any business with Qunari breathing down your neck.”
“That might not be for a while,” Aveline said.
“Ah, well, do your best,” Revnas told her. “See you around, Isabela,”
Isabela gave a wink and a wave, and Revnas and her crew were off.
“Now we just have to deal with Mother Petrice,” Aveline said.
They went to the place Petrice had given them, to find that she was surprised that they even showed up.
“You...took the Qunari from the city?” Petrice asked. “Without incident?”
“Not exactly,” Fenris muttered.
“The bodies of his karataam lead right to me,” Abigail said. “And the Qunari realized it was a trap, too—they are far too dead to do anything about it now, but they were not exactly stupid.”
“You come back speaking their language and think to lecture me?”
Aveline stepped forward. “Yes,” she said. “We do. What were you doing?”
Petrice folded her hands into her sleeves. “If such a false trail existed, and then if the Qunari had killed you for trying to help their slave mage, then yes, someone might have found that useful. It would have cast doubt on appeasement--”
“Do you want to start a war with the Qunari?” Aveline demanded. “This behavior is inexcusable.”
Petrice glared at her, haughty and imperious. “Who are you to lecture me so?”
Aveline drew herself up to her full height. “Guard-Captain Aveline Vallen,”
Petrice and her Templar looked at each other.
“You have tried to interfere with the Chantry once before,” Petrice said with a scowl. “It did not work then and it will not work now.”
“You are trying to agitate the Qunari,” Aveline snapped. “I won't have it.”
“Then perhaps we should take the matter to The Grand Cleric,” Petrice said.
“Perhaps we should.”
Elthina was just as uncooperative this time as she had been the last time.
“Some members of the Chantry take the Qunari's presence far too personally,” Elthina said. “It is, as I have said before, little concern of yours, Guard-Captain.” she looked at Petrice. “And you should not agitate the Qunari,” she said, her voice stern.
“Grand Cleric--”
“It is unbecoming to involve yourself in such matters. The truth of the Maker will show itself soon enough.”
Aveline put her hands down on the table. “Grand Cleric, this woman has endangered our relations with the Arishok,” she said. “If this happens again, the Qunari would see it as well within their rights to attack us.”
“Then it will not happen again.” Elthina leveled a hard stare at Petrice, who looked away.
Aveline gave a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Grand Cleric,” she said. “How will you ensure this?”
“I believe restriction of Petrice’s movements would be necessary,” Elthina said. “Sister, you are not to leave the Chantry without due permission. And no use of Templar resources—this is quite enough.”
Petrice frowned and folded her arms. “Is that enough for you, Guard-Captain?” she hissed.
Aveline stared at them both, shocked. “No!” she said. “It is not enough! This woman broke Chantry law—jeopardized our diplomatic relations, and assisted an apostate in escaping the Circle! I would see her jailed or sent to Aeonar—at the very least, she will not stay in Kirkwall!”
“Where she is is not for you to decide, Guard-Captain,” Elthina said, her voice utterly impassive. “And I understand that you yourself aided in removing the apostate from Sister Petrice’s care. Are you to be arrested as well?”
“Don’t think to lecture me on the law,” Aveline snapped. “It was a delicate situation, and I did as I saw fit. In any case, the apostate is dead now, killed by his own people.” it was the lie they had decided upon.
“So you understand why Petrice felt the need to act the way she did.”
“No, I absolutely do not!”
“Guard Captain,” for the first time, a flash of anger crossed Elthina’s face. “As I understand it, you saw what Sister Petrice did was wrong, yet you did not correct it until the damage had been done.”
“But--”
“You have no business interfering in Chantry affairs when you abuse the laws yourself,” Elthina got to her feet. “In the interests of keeping the peace, I suggest you make no more of this, unless you wish for the Viscount to be involved.”
Elthina and Petrice left her there in the office, Petrice smirking over her shoulder. Aveline wrapped her hand around the back of her chair, and held it so tightly that the wood creaked.
“The bloody Chantry will plunge the city into chaos!” Aveline exclaimed, slamming the door to Isabela’s house behind her. The others had all gathered there, and by the time Aveline got to the docks, she was fuming.
“Oh, what a surprise,” Isabela rolled her eyes. “Don’t slam my doors, this place is enough of a wreck already.”
“Yeah, they kind of have a habit of that,” Varric said with a grimace. “I mean—Velanna and Merrill'll tell you all about it.”
Aveline shook her head. “This isn't right,” she growled. “This is not how the Chantry should be. This is—chaos.”
“Calm down,” Abigail said. “Tell us what happened.”
“She isn’t going to arrest Petrice, she’s not going to send her to another Chantry—she’s going to simply restrict her movements to the Hightown Chantry and oh, she’s no longer allowed to use Templar resources!” Aveline rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. “And when I told her that Petrice broke the law, Elthina accused me of breaking the law by not immediately turning the Qunari in! Never mind, of course, that I was doing an investigation--!”
“Well, that gets Petrice out of our hair for the time being,” Isabela said with a shrug. “What’s the problem?”
“This city's in a delicate enough position as it is without idiot Sisters barging around and thinking they know better,” Aveline said. “The Kirkwall Templars can't even get their own jobs right—what business does the Chantry have thinking they might do the work of a diplomat?” she collapsed at Isabela’s table. “And if Petrice is still there, she might entice other Sisters to do the same thing as her.”
“And what exactly are we supposed to do about it?” Isabela asked. “apart from get out of town, anyway.”
They debated more on the subject, but no one could come to a proper agreement on the best course of action. They ultimately decided that they would need to wait for something else to happen, though no one was pleased with this idea.