Crimson sails flapped and rustled overhead as the Riptide sliced through oncoming waves. There was an occasional salty spray that broke over the wooden figurehead. It crowned over the painted face and pattered across the forecastle. It was difficult enough to miss the elegantly crafted woman staring off into the distance, breasts bared and hands planted across her knees. Her midsection was covered with wooden ruffles. Painted with the same rouge as the sails, though it hardly applied any modesty. Whoever had etched its face had certainly spent a painstaking amount of time on it. She nearly looked real. In the shipâs belly lied the hold and the crewâs quarters, individually decorated and ridiculously large. Hammocks, wooden beds built into the walls, and an assortment of chests. There was a small stock of barrels in the furthest chamber, filled with who knows what and a makeshift kitchen that appeared as if itâd just been built.
Borja had certainly been accurate when heâd said that the little vessel sailed truer than his own. Quicker, at least. A great deal smaller than his heavily-gunned battleship, the Riptide speedily progressed towards their destinationâwhere to? Zahra wasnât entirely sure, but when Rom and Khari had approached her with the request, she was loath to deny them. Her ship, sheâd said, was as good as theirs. Always, anytime. Besides, sheâd been itching for a reason to clamber back onto these decks. Sheâd missed it. Dearly. Skyhold was all well and fine, but it paled in comparison to the freedom she felt striking across the seas, an expanse of glass or choppy waves. As much as Zahra missed the cawing of gulls, and the salty breeze kissing her cheeks⊠it reminded her of loss, of the absence of Aslan whoâd always stood at her side. A vigilant giant keeping her from tumbling straight off the cliffs she toed so close to.
Even if Skyholdâs chill still nipped at their heels, sheâd chosen a lighter fare. She assumed the weather would incline itself to her preferred state, after all. Zahra wore a loose cotton shirt tucked into tight leather pants, with a red sash and thick belt wound around her waist. She had her sleeves pulled up to her elbows and oddly enough had forgone wearing boots. Riptideâs deck was smooth enough to abandon good manners and civilities. This was her ship after all. She hadnât left her companions with any instructions other than to enjoy the ride, explore the ship as they saw fit. They could sneak down into the holdâs kitchen and nab some biscuits before Brialle hid them away or help Nuka shuffle around the ship, tugging on the rigging with curse-words sifting through her lips. Or simply find a place to sleep. Garland was snoozing near the forecastle and his figurehead. Impressively ignoring the spray of water splashing across his face. He could sleep anywhere, that one.
Zahra found herself lounging near Nixium and the Riptideâs helm. Usually sheâd harass the little elf. Stick her hands through the cylindrical spokes or teasingly jerk the rudder in the opposite direction. Anything to acquire an annoyed grumble, or a small, steepled smile depending on the occasion. But today, she wasnât in the mood. She hunched over the chestnut railing and leaned her elbows across it. In these moments, you couldn't tell where the gray skies ended and the gray seas began. Thick clouds swirled in a tumult above, blue-gray waves swirled below, crashing into the side of the ship. It reminded her of things. Memories, mostly. Of the day sheâd first stepped foot aboard a ship. A pirate ship. How ridiculously terrified sheâd been. She glanced over her shoulder, expecting a familiar face, and chirped a quiet laugh when she saw no one standing there.
Ridiculous.
Something nudged into her shoulder. Zahra glanced over to her right and faced a tin flask: two inches from her face. Behind it was Nixiumâs impassive expression. Betraying nothing behind those bright eyes of hers. Not even a smile, nor a word or explanation. She supposed she didnât need one. Her smile simpered into something less wistful as she accepted the flask. She twisted off the lid and tipped her head back to seize a generous mouthful.
Ridiculous.
"Borja's impressed," came the voice of Romulus, and soon the visage of the man himself appeared nearing the helm. "I heard him say we're making good time. Thought I'd pass the compliment along, since he's unlikely to do it himself." He was dressed comfortably again, in a loose tunic and pants, and only a pair of sandals separating his feet from the ship's deck. His beard, too, he'd trimmed, down to its lowest layer. Likely he wanted to keep it for their return to the cold when this was over.
Romulus took a seat on a nearby railing, keeping himself anchored with one hand grabbing a rope tied up to a sail. He looked comfortable on the water, at home, even. If he was putting on some kind of act, it was a good one. "Thanks again for doing this. I know my father was sparse with the details. I think he sees you as a rival, actually." He seemed to remember himself, and walked to within arm's reach of the pair.
"Don't think we've met yet," he said, addressing Nixium. He outstretched a bare hand. "I'm Romulus."
Zahra spotted Romulus before he spoke. Or the top of his head anyhow. Ascending the wooden stairs, quiet as a mouse. If heâd wanted to startle them, she doubted it wouldâve been difficult. She passed the sloshing flask back to Nixium and stretched her arms up towards the gray skies, wriggling her fingers. Itâd been awhile since sheâd had so many passengers aboard the Riptide. People not officially belonging to her crew⊠but somehow managing to fit in just the same. She felt a crick in her neck and internally blamed old age. Maker knows she wasnât as young as she used to be. âThatâs just like him,â her laugh was genuine, and a little reflective, âStubborn man. Youâre right. Iâd never hear it.â
She watched as Romulus perched himself across the railing, seeming every bit a sailor. Or pirate, if she had her way. She wondered just how different his life mightâve been if heâd been raised by Borja himself. Itâd taken her awhile to even believe they were related. Would they have met on the seas? Would Borja have taken a different path altogether? Lived a nice and quiet life in the hills. It almost made her laugh. From what sheâd heard, theyâd been through quite a lot before finally appearing in Skyhold. Of course, she hadnât broached the subject. And wouldnât unless he asked. Though she felt a small tickle of regret at how she behaved in Redcliffe. At Româs father, no less. All bared fangs and venom. Sheâd have to apologize, someday. Perhaps.
âWhat kind of pirate would I be if I couldnât help my friends?â It was a rhetorical question because at this point she was treading past the line of contractual responsibilities. This time, sheâd strayed too close. She supposed it made her a weak mercenary. One that wasnât so inclined to choose wealth over her companions. An odd transition to be sure, and one she found not so unpleasant. She pushed the wild mess of curls from her eyes and nodded her head. It appeared as if she wasnât quite used to being thanked either. âRival? You know, Borjaâs one of the greatest sea pirates Iâve ever seen. Doubt he thought much of me when I was a just a whelp. Thought I was too mouthy for my own good. Heâs probably right.â She held a finger in front of her lips and snorted, âDonât tell him I said so.â
The red-headed elf regarded him coolly. Not in the manner that appeared impolite, or rude. Simply one belonging to an individual who preferred watching and listening over speaking herself. Nixium tilted her head and trailed her eyes across his outstretched hand. She blinked up at him and reached past his proffered hand, grabbing onto his forearm instead. A firm grip. If she was at all perplexed by the odd handshake, she gave no indication. âNixium. Navigator. I keep this one from sinking our ship.â It mightâve been a joke if sheâd laughed or smiled but she only nodded.
Behind them, Zahra snorted louder. âShe isnât lying.â
"Good thing you're here then," Romulus chortled back. "We've got a long ways to go still, and then a long ways back." The humor faded from his tone, an indication that he was moving to some business at hand. Indeed, he hadn't yet told her where they going, or what they were doing when they got there.
"We're headed to Llomerryn, or nearby at least. There's a Qunari ship docked there with a prisoner that we need to recover, man named Conrado. Long story short, he's an underworld sort that sold out my mother and father a long time ago. Someone had reason enough to want my mother dead for her bloodline, and if Conrado can point us in their direction, we might have a real lead on proof of my ancestry." He made his way back to his position on the railing, taking a seat again. "Not the simplest operation, I know. But you shouldn't have to risk the ship. I figure we'll want to go in with something a little smaller."
âThat can be arranged.â The new voice was Leonâs distinctively-accented bass. The Seeker had shed most of his customary layers in concession to the rapidly-warming climate, though he still exposed no more than his face and forearms to the sun. He looked like the type that burned easy, between the blond hair and the fair complexion.
The tread of his boots was soft over the planks of the deckâeither he hadnât taken long to adjust to the rolling of the ship, or else he had experience with boat travel already. He spoke to all three of them, though perhaps mostly Romulus. âThereâs not as much Chantry presence in Rivain as elsewhere, but for our purposes, thatâs good. What is there arenât templars or the sorts that speak the Chant on street corners. We do have agents, though, and more than one unmarked boat, Iâm sure.â It seemed to go without saying that he could request such a thing and receive it.
Zahra said little to interrupt the flow of conversation. Only nodded when it was appropriate. She hadnât been privy to any battle plans, though she felt a little more at ease knowing why they were going⊠if not where. Llomerryn? Sheâd honestly never been there, but sheâd sailed close enough to spot their terrifying ships. Even she wasnât stupid enough to trespass too close. Dreadnoughts could tear them to pieces. And as restrained as Aslan was with his history, heâd instructed her how to avoid such conflicts. Though, she wouldâve been lying if she said she didnât want to see more Qunari. His people. His ways. A shame this wasnât a frivolous occasion. She glanced between Leon and Romulus, resting her hands back at her hips.
Rivain. Home, then. A wistful sigh sifted from between Zahraâs lips. It was dangerously close to home, in any case. A rough fishing village surrounded by piers and docks and old, creaking boats. She didnât often wonder what her family was up to. Though she missed her brothers, dearly. Though even less of the fiancee sheâd fled from. She did think of the day Aslan appeared in the sour-smelling tavern. Remembered him proposing that she simply leave if she hated living there so much. Easy for him to say. And then sheâd gone as if sheâd never been there in the first place. Stepped off the docks without so much as a backwards glance. Theyâd sail straight past it if her estimations were right.
She shook the thoughts from her head and studied Romulus. Never thought sheâd be in the business of recapturing prisoners. She had no qualms who they faced in Llomerryn. Or how theyâd pull it off. Nor did she understand the weight of this particular pursuit, but she did know that it was important to him. Thatâs all that mattered.
"That's good," Romulus responded. "In any case, I can't imagine we'll get in and get out without coming across anyone. Even Qunari ships aren't that big. Best to go without anything that can link us with the Inquisition. Goes without saying that I don't want to bring any unnecessary trouble on us." Killing Qunari unprovoked was a certainly a good way to do that, even if Skyhold was about as far as possible from Par Vollen.
"Somehow I doubt the Qunari would be willing to just hand him over. They don't like to bend on these sorts of things, from what I've seen." There was something a little dark in the last words Romulus spoke, but he didn't elaborate on it any further.
âTheir intelligence-gathering capabilities are also very good in Llomerryn,â Leon pointed out. âWeâre going to need to be as unobtrusive as possible as soon as we hit landâeven a bit before. You canât swing a dead cat without hitting a viddathari that close to Kont-Ar.â He frowned slightly. âActually, youâre probably going to want to keep your face hidden as much as you can. I donât know if the tattoos would be recognizable, but they might be.â He gestured vaguely to his own visage as he said it.
Before any sort of response could be made to that, there was a soft groan from off to the left. Khari, looking distinctly green around the gills, staggered towards the prow of the boat, muttering something impossible to hear. She hit the railing hands-first, bending over it for a few seconds before she fell into a seated position, dangling her legs over the edge and pressing her forehead into one of the vertical bars keeping the handrail in place.
âZee⊠youâre great and your crew is great, but I hate your boat. Ugh.â She paused to take several deep breaths. âHow do I make it stop moving?â
âYou should see the other boats. Riptideâs smooth as butter in comparison.â Zahra snorted through her laughter and rubbed at her eyes with her knuckles. She hardly looked sympathetic when she sauntered over and leaned against the railing to Khariâs side, âAn acquired taste, I think.â
Asala followed close behind, whom in contrast seemed right at home on the deck of the ship. She too had shed much of the layers she'd usually wore at Skyhold. She walked barefooted along the wooden deck, with loose breeches that cut off at her calf and a shirt that exposed her midriff. In fact she even appeared to have a slight skip in her step as she came to stand over Khari.
Asala bent over and gently gathered the woman's fiery red hair in her hands to keep it out of her face. The look on her face was one of pity as gazed upon the poor creature. âYou, uh... do not,â Asala answered. âBut you will get used to it. In time. Maybe.â She did not seem at all convinced by her own words. It was all she could do to shoot the others a shaky smile that all but said probably not.
Borja had certainly been accurate when heâd said that the little vessel sailed truer than his own. Quicker, at least. A great deal smaller than his heavily-gunned battleship, the Riptide speedily progressed towards their destinationâwhere to? Zahra wasnât entirely sure, but when Rom and Khari had approached her with the request, she was loath to deny them. Her ship, sheâd said, was as good as theirs. Always, anytime. Besides, sheâd been itching for a reason to clamber back onto these decks. Sheâd missed it. Dearly. Skyhold was all well and fine, but it paled in comparison to the freedom she felt striking across the seas, an expanse of glass or choppy waves. As much as Zahra missed the cawing of gulls, and the salty breeze kissing her cheeks⊠it reminded her of loss, of the absence of Aslan whoâd always stood at her side. A vigilant giant keeping her from tumbling straight off the cliffs she toed so close to.
Even if Skyholdâs chill still nipped at their heels, sheâd chosen a lighter fare. She assumed the weather would incline itself to her preferred state, after all. Zahra wore a loose cotton shirt tucked into tight leather pants, with a red sash and thick belt wound around her waist. She had her sleeves pulled up to her elbows and oddly enough had forgone wearing boots. Riptideâs deck was smooth enough to abandon good manners and civilities. This was her ship after all. She hadnât left her companions with any instructions other than to enjoy the ride, explore the ship as they saw fit. They could sneak down into the holdâs kitchen and nab some biscuits before Brialle hid them away or help Nuka shuffle around the ship, tugging on the rigging with curse-words sifting through her lips. Or simply find a place to sleep. Garland was snoozing near the forecastle and his figurehead. Impressively ignoring the spray of water splashing across his face. He could sleep anywhere, that one.
Zahra found herself lounging near Nixium and the Riptideâs helm. Usually sheâd harass the little elf. Stick her hands through the cylindrical spokes or teasingly jerk the rudder in the opposite direction. Anything to acquire an annoyed grumble, or a small, steepled smile depending on the occasion. But today, she wasnât in the mood. She hunched over the chestnut railing and leaned her elbows across it. In these moments, you couldn't tell where the gray skies ended and the gray seas began. Thick clouds swirled in a tumult above, blue-gray waves swirled below, crashing into the side of the ship. It reminded her of things. Memories, mostly. Of the day sheâd first stepped foot aboard a ship. A pirate ship. How ridiculously terrified sheâd been. She glanced over her shoulder, expecting a familiar face, and chirped a quiet laugh when she saw no one standing there.
Ridiculous.
Something nudged into her shoulder. Zahra glanced over to her right and faced a tin flask: two inches from her face. Behind it was Nixiumâs impassive expression. Betraying nothing behind those bright eyes of hers. Not even a smile, nor a word or explanation. She supposed she didnât need one. Her smile simpered into something less wistful as she accepted the flask. She twisted off the lid and tipped her head back to seize a generous mouthful.
Ridiculous.
"Borja's impressed," came the voice of Romulus, and soon the visage of the man himself appeared nearing the helm. "I heard him say we're making good time. Thought I'd pass the compliment along, since he's unlikely to do it himself." He was dressed comfortably again, in a loose tunic and pants, and only a pair of sandals separating his feet from the ship's deck. His beard, too, he'd trimmed, down to its lowest layer. Likely he wanted to keep it for their return to the cold when this was over.
Romulus took a seat on a nearby railing, keeping himself anchored with one hand grabbing a rope tied up to a sail. He looked comfortable on the water, at home, even. If he was putting on some kind of act, it was a good one. "Thanks again for doing this. I know my father was sparse with the details. I think he sees you as a rival, actually." He seemed to remember himself, and walked to within arm's reach of the pair.
"Don't think we've met yet," he said, addressing Nixium. He outstretched a bare hand. "I'm Romulus."
Zahra spotted Romulus before he spoke. Or the top of his head anyhow. Ascending the wooden stairs, quiet as a mouse. If heâd wanted to startle them, she doubted it wouldâve been difficult. She passed the sloshing flask back to Nixium and stretched her arms up towards the gray skies, wriggling her fingers. Itâd been awhile since sheâd had so many passengers aboard the Riptide. People not officially belonging to her crew⊠but somehow managing to fit in just the same. She felt a crick in her neck and internally blamed old age. Maker knows she wasnât as young as she used to be. âThatâs just like him,â her laugh was genuine, and a little reflective, âStubborn man. Youâre right. Iâd never hear it.â
She watched as Romulus perched himself across the railing, seeming every bit a sailor. Or pirate, if she had her way. She wondered just how different his life mightâve been if heâd been raised by Borja himself. Itâd taken her awhile to even believe they were related. Would they have met on the seas? Would Borja have taken a different path altogether? Lived a nice and quiet life in the hills. It almost made her laugh. From what sheâd heard, theyâd been through quite a lot before finally appearing in Skyhold. Of course, she hadnât broached the subject. And wouldnât unless he asked. Though she felt a small tickle of regret at how she behaved in Redcliffe. At Româs father, no less. All bared fangs and venom. Sheâd have to apologize, someday. Perhaps.
âWhat kind of pirate would I be if I couldnât help my friends?â It was a rhetorical question because at this point she was treading past the line of contractual responsibilities. This time, sheâd strayed too close. She supposed it made her a weak mercenary. One that wasnât so inclined to choose wealth over her companions. An odd transition to be sure, and one she found not so unpleasant. She pushed the wild mess of curls from her eyes and nodded her head. It appeared as if she wasnât quite used to being thanked either. âRival? You know, Borjaâs one of the greatest sea pirates Iâve ever seen. Doubt he thought much of me when I was a just a whelp. Thought I was too mouthy for my own good. Heâs probably right.â She held a finger in front of her lips and snorted, âDonât tell him I said so.â
The red-headed elf regarded him coolly. Not in the manner that appeared impolite, or rude. Simply one belonging to an individual who preferred watching and listening over speaking herself. Nixium tilted her head and trailed her eyes across his outstretched hand. She blinked up at him and reached past his proffered hand, grabbing onto his forearm instead. A firm grip. If she was at all perplexed by the odd handshake, she gave no indication. âNixium. Navigator. I keep this one from sinking our ship.â It mightâve been a joke if sheâd laughed or smiled but she only nodded.
Behind them, Zahra snorted louder. âShe isnât lying.â
"Good thing you're here then," Romulus chortled back. "We've got a long ways to go still, and then a long ways back." The humor faded from his tone, an indication that he was moving to some business at hand. Indeed, he hadn't yet told her where they going, or what they were doing when they got there.
"We're headed to Llomerryn, or nearby at least. There's a Qunari ship docked there with a prisoner that we need to recover, man named Conrado. Long story short, he's an underworld sort that sold out my mother and father a long time ago. Someone had reason enough to want my mother dead for her bloodline, and if Conrado can point us in their direction, we might have a real lead on proof of my ancestry." He made his way back to his position on the railing, taking a seat again. "Not the simplest operation, I know. But you shouldn't have to risk the ship. I figure we'll want to go in with something a little smaller."
âThat can be arranged.â The new voice was Leonâs distinctively-accented bass. The Seeker had shed most of his customary layers in concession to the rapidly-warming climate, though he still exposed no more than his face and forearms to the sun. He looked like the type that burned easy, between the blond hair and the fair complexion.
The tread of his boots was soft over the planks of the deckâeither he hadnât taken long to adjust to the rolling of the ship, or else he had experience with boat travel already. He spoke to all three of them, though perhaps mostly Romulus. âThereâs not as much Chantry presence in Rivain as elsewhere, but for our purposes, thatâs good. What is there arenât templars or the sorts that speak the Chant on street corners. We do have agents, though, and more than one unmarked boat, Iâm sure.â It seemed to go without saying that he could request such a thing and receive it.
Zahra said little to interrupt the flow of conversation. Only nodded when it was appropriate. She hadnât been privy to any battle plans, though she felt a little more at ease knowing why they were going⊠if not where. Llomerryn? Sheâd honestly never been there, but sheâd sailed close enough to spot their terrifying ships. Even she wasnât stupid enough to trespass too close. Dreadnoughts could tear them to pieces. And as restrained as Aslan was with his history, heâd instructed her how to avoid such conflicts. Though, she wouldâve been lying if she said she didnât want to see more Qunari. His people. His ways. A shame this wasnât a frivolous occasion. She glanced between Leon and Romulus, resting her hands back at her hips.
Rivain. Home, then. A wistful sigh sifted from between Zahraâs lips. It was dangerously close to home, in any case. A rough fishing village surrounded by piers and docks and old, creaking boats. She didnât often wonder what her family was up to. Though she missed her brothers, dearly. Though even less of the fiancee sheâd fled from. She did think of the day Aslan appeared in the sour-smelling tavern. Remembered him proposing that she simply leave if she hated living there so much. Easy for him to say. And then sheâd gone as if sheâd never been there in the first place. Stepped off the docks without so much as a backwards glance. Theyâd sail straight past it if her estimations were right.
She shook the thoughts from her head and studied Romulus. Never thought sheâd be in the business of recapturing prisoners. She had no qualms who they faced in Llomerryn. Or how theyâd pull it off. Nor did she understand the weight of this particular pursuit, but she did know that it was important to him. Thatâs all that mattered.
"That's good," Romulus responded. "In any case, I can't imagine we'll get in and get out without coming across anyone. Even Qunari ships aren't that big. Best to go without anything that can link us with the Inquisition. Goes without saying that I don't want to bring any unnecessary trouble on us." Killing Qunari unprovoked was a certainly a good way to do that, even if Skyhold was about as far as possible from Par Vollen.
"Somehow I doubt the Qunari would be willing to just hand him over. They don't like to bend on these sorts of things, from what I've seen." There was something a little dark in the last words Romulus spoke, but he didn't elaborate on it any further.
âTheir intelligence-gathering capabilities are also very good in Llomerryn,â Leon pointed out. âWeâre going to need to be as unobtrusive as possible as soon as we hit landâeven a bit before. You canât swing a dead cat without hitting a viddathari that close to Kont-Ar.â He frowned slightly. âActually, youâre probably going to want to keep your face hidden as much as you can. I donât know if the tattoos would be recognizable, but they might be.â He gestured vaguely to his own visage as he said it.
Before any sort of response could be made to that, there was a soft groan from off to the left. Khari, looking distinctly green around the gills, staggered towards the prow of the boat, muttering something impossible to hear. She hit the railing hands-first, bending over it for a few seconds before she fell into a seated position, dangling her legs over the edge and pressing her forehead into one of the vertical bars keeping the handrail in place.
âZee⊠youâre great and your crew is great, but I hate your boat. Ugh.â She paused to take several deep breaths. âHow do I make it stop moving?â
âYou should see the other boats. Riptideâs smooth as butter in comparison.â Zahra snorted through her laughter and rubbed at her eyes with her knuckles. She hardly looked sympathetic when she sauntered over and leaned against the railing to Khariâs side, âAn acquired taste, I think.â
Asala followed close behind, whom in contrast seemed right at home on the deck of the ship. She too had shed much of the layers she'd usually wore at Skyhold. She walked barefooted along the wooden deck, with loose breeches that cut off at her calf and a shirt that exposed her midriff. In fact she even appeared to have a slight skip in her step as she came to stand over Khari.
Asala bent over and gently gathered the woman's fiery red hair in her hands to keep it out of her face. The look on her face was one of pity as gazed upon the poor creature. âYou, uh... do not,â Asala answered. âBut you will get used to it. In time. Maybe.â She did not seem at all convinced by her own words. It was all she could do to shoot the others a shaky smile that all but said probably not.