La Flèche Noire was appropriately named. The tower was thin and freestanding, constructed of near-black stone. It narrowed towards the top, spearing into the skyline of Val Royeaux's government district with a harshness that the buildings around it did not share. Estella felt like it loomed over her, some great shadow too large to have been cast by her.
Rilien had secured their right to enter the day before, when they'd arrived in the city. Estella actually owned a modest house not too far from the Lions' barracks in the harbor district, which was where they were staying for now. But it had seemed best to see Julien as soon as possible; she didn't even know what date had been set for his execution, and if they were under a time constraint, she needed to know as soon as possible. Pulling in a breath, she patted down her heavy maroon tunic—she'd dressed as a Lion for the day, conscious of the fact that it carried a weight here that the Inquisition itself might not. As weapons weren't allowed in the prison, she held her sword loosely in her hand, anticipating the need to give it to the guard on duty. Pursing her lips, she checked to make sure the others were all ready to enter behind her.
Rilien looked back at her unblinkingly, arms folded into his dark green sleeves. He was, as usual, dressed impeccably, also displaying no outward affiliations.
“Little obviously a prison tower, isn't it?" Cyrus shifted his weight slightly, arms crossed over his chest. He wore two swords, one at each side, but on Rilien's advice, was bereft of armor. He could have been any Orlesian gentleman, given the crispness and quality of his garments, but for the absence of a mask. A little gauche, here, but it was likely better not to pretend to too much. The truth in the best light was better than an outright lie.
Ves could not pass for Orlesian nobility, but that was more a result of his ears than anything. Instead he'd followed Estella's lead, and looked more of a mercenary than anything, albeit an off duty one given the lack of armor above his waist. His tunic was a dark blue instead of maroon, sleeves rolled to the elbows, with a few sparing pieces of leather and mail armor on his legs and plating his boots. Evidence that he was not in fact a servant of the group, even if the appearance of that would've been impossible to produce anyway. The axe was a little conspicuous, but the tower shield and spear probably would've been worse.
"Something about the highest room in the tallest tower is coming to mind," Ves said in something of a deadpan. He'd been looking around curiously ever since they arrived in the city, and had mentioned earlier that he'd never actually been to Val Royeaux before. He didn't look upon the tower with nearly the same enthusiasm as everything else, though. "Hopefully there's no dragons involved in the rescue here." He paused, frowning. "Though honestly that might make things simpler."
Estella huffed softly, their humor reaching her almost despite herself. “I'm sure Julien would be flattered to be compared to the princess in this scenario." It wasn't too far off, actually. Turning back towards the building, Estella gathered herself and headed in.
They were asked to leave their weapons at the entrance, which they did without protest. Estella handed over the writ of authorization, carefully making sure she didn't fidget while the warden took far more time than necessary to check it over. When at last she let them past with a nod, another of the guards stepped forward to escort them.
As it happened, Julien wasn't on the highest floor or anything, though he did seem to occupy a level by himself; all the other cells on the fourth level were empty as they walked by. Estella did her best to make her steps as quiet as Rilien's, almost able to lose the sound in the three other treads. It had been about two and a half years since she'd last seen Julien in person, and much had changed. She honestly wasn't sure how this was going to go. The postscript to his letter made her cautious, but the rest of it was too urgent to allow that cautiousness to overcome her better nature. Whatever else they may be, he was her friend, and he needed her help. She might be able to argue the politics of the situation, but those weren't what this was about—not for her.
“Julien," she murmured, drawing the attention of the sole occupant of the block. The cell he was in was modestly-appointed, certainly not the worst such place she'd seen, but not the best, either. It had a pallet and a small writing desk with a chair, and little else.
The man who occupied the chair looked like he'd been in better health, to be sure. The white silk shirt he wore was undone at the collar, his sleeves rolled neatly up to his elbows. It showed clear signs of wear and former dirt, not quite taken out by whatever method the prison allowed for laundering. He was still quite a lean man, though not soft; there were even slight calluses on his hands, as much from more physical pursuits as from writing and the like. When he heard her speak, he turned from where he was bent over the desk, pushing dark golden hair back from his face. It was a bit unkempt, but not too much longer than she knew him to prefer. Perhaps he hadn't been here long.
"Stel." His entire countenance changed, angular features aligning into an expression equal parts surprised and relieved. He swept striking golden eyes over her first, then let them move back to the others; she could see it when he registered who Cyrus must be. He was too sharp not to notice the similarity immediately, and then couple it deftly with the stories she'd told him of her brother back in Tevinter. "You came. I didn't expect you to—well, I thought you'd write first, at least." He stood, moving up to the bars and gripping one in each hand at about shoulder-height, which for him was almost half a foot above her own.
She offered a tentative smile, pausing a couple feet in front of the bars on the other side. “Of course I did," she said quietly. “And... I didn't know how long you had, so I didn't want to risk the time it would take to write. It seemed better to come directly."
He blinked once, then grimaced. "I'm sorry about that; I didn't know how much time I had either, at the time I wrote." He shook his head slightly. "As it is, I'm glad you did. I've three days."
“Just three?" Estella's eyes widened. “How long ago were you sentenced?"
"Oh, they wasted no time with any of it. I was arrested nine days ago, and tried four after that. Frankly, I'm surprised I didn't meet the guillotine the same night." His tone was dry, laconic, but there was an edge of genuine discomfort underneath it. He wore his emotions far more openly than most people, certainly far more openly than she did; it was all there to be read in the way he held himself and the way he spoke. He sighed. "But please. I mustn't neglect my manners, even in such situations as this. I've enough time to meet your companions before we settle in for the story. It's good to see you again, Rilien. Seneschal Rilien now, as I understand. Alas, the setting leaves much to be desired."
“Lord D'Artignon." Rilien acknowledged him with a slight nod. He gave no more than that, but then this was quite typical.
Julien certainly didn't seem to take it poorly. He was at least familiar with Rilien's particular mannerisms by this point. He tilted his head to the side, turning his eyes to her brother. "I can only assume this must be the infamous Cyrus. Your reputation precedes you." He dredged up a smile from somewhere.
“I find that happens rather a lot. Always nice when Stellulam's the one doing the talking, however; she does have this lovely habit of putting me in my very best light." Cyrus bowed slightly, the motion heavy with irony, considering that Julien was currently behind locked bars.
He huffed anyway, either seeing the dark humor in it or else just amused by something else Cy had said. "I have likewise been the recipient of such benevolence, I am certain. Julien D'Artignon, at your service. We can dispense with all the milords and titles and the like, if it's all the same to you. I'd hardly be in a position to insist even if I wanted to." His eyes fell last of all on Ves. "Alas, I have simply no guesses who you might be, serah. I daresay I'd certainly recall it if we'd met before." Half of the smile still tugged at his face, but it was not as easy as she remembered it. Perhaps understandable, given the circumstances.
"Vesryn Cormyth," he introduced himself, his tone amicable. He offered a nod his head in place of any bow. "I believe I'm the muscle here, for whatever that's worth." The way he said it was jokingly self-effacing, as it often was for these things, implying he did not in fact think his only worth here was from the strength of his arms. "But I'm also a friend of Stel's. Considering you're one of those as well, I'm sure we'll get along splendidly."
"She does have excellent taste," Julien replied in the same vein, exhaling a soft breath. His expression sobered somewhat, though.
His eyes found their way back to Estella. "I suppose you'll be wanting the whole story, then." When she nodded, he returned it, letting his arms drop to his sides. "I'd offer you all seats, but as you can see, there are none." Save the one next to his desk, anyway, which he took, dragging up to the cell door and sitting in backwards, so he could lay his arms over the back and prop his chin on them, looking up to maintain eye contact with her. She swallowed, but said nothing, waiting for him to explain.
"I've been accused of sedition. Specifically, a rather complicated plot involving the theft of a large weapons shipment and an attempt to sell information to Antiva. Both, presumably, to bolster my private army and increase my chance of capitalizing on the civil war to sweep in and steal the crown off Celene's head." His lip curled slightly. "Not that I'd mind, you understand, but I certainly had no plans to attempt it, especially not with those methods."
“A weapons shipment? And the Antivans?" Estella's brows furrowed. It didn't quite seem to connect as a coherent plot, but maybe if she put it together with some other things she knew about him...
"Mm." He hummed a discontent note in the back of his throat. "They wove it into a nice little narrative, actually. I already have a private force that does not include any chevaliers. It wasn't too hard to spin that into 'a standing army with no loyalty to anyone but him, in need of more arms.'" He said the words with exaggerated care, as though mimicking someone else. The barrister who'd made the argument, most likely. "And of course a deal with a foreign power would bolster my resources and allow me access to the House of Crows, since I wouldn't want to risk hiring a bard that might have some loyalty to motherland, or some such." He rolled his eyes. "It's not the worst plot to overthrow a government I could think of, but I like to believe I could do better, if I'd been of a mind to concoct such a scheme myself. But it convinced the Honorable Magistrate Dufour, and so here I am."
“Surely they would have needed more than a story to convict you? What evidence did they bring?" Cyrus arched his brows, glancing between Estella, Rilien, and Julien for a moment. “I'm assuming Magistrate Dufour is particularly... what? Traditional or something?"
Rilien nodded to the last. “Also the most senior judge on the High Court. Ergo, he sees particularly important cases. It was he who oversaw Ser Lucien's first trial, though only the Empress has the authority to sentence someone of particularly high stature. Dufour would have been able to condemn him, but she would have been the one who handed down the order for execution." He moved his eyes to Julien, as if to confirm.
"Precisely. And the dear old judge is the sort of person who hates me most." Julien sighed. "Still, I don't know how much of the real fault lies with him. There was, as you say, purported 'evidence.' Three main pieces of it: a ledger, a letter, and a... character witness." He shook his head slightly on the last.
“What sort of ledger?" Estella asked, brows knitting together.
"Oh, one of mine. I make an effort to track every shipment and payment I make and receive, either at Arlesans or in Val Royeaux. This particular one does a rather nice job of betraying a pattern of embezzlement—it seems I was both cheating the crown out of its fair share of tax revenue and also moving military supplies that then simply disappeared. Given that, I suppose it was more likely that I'd be shameless enough to steal an additional shipment and make it look like bandits." He smiled tightly. "Obviously, the ledger was doctored. I don't know by whom or how—the one to ask about that is Gauvain. I'm sure he'd be delighted to see you; he's been fretting himself rather sick, of late."
Estella imagined that he almost certainly had been. Gauvain had the demeanor for it, and with Julien in this much trouble, he was sure to be almost beside himself. She couldn't blame him. “What about the letter and the character witness?"
He scoffed. "Elodie Janvier was the character witness. I don't think you've met her. It's not an experience I recommend, but considering she very likely set the whole thing up, you might have to. Her entire purpose at the trial was to malign me as much as possible, so as to make it seem like I was exactly the sort of person who would do it. She can certainly be persuasive." His lip curled.
"The letter was perhaps the crux of the case. Even I think it looks like my handwriting. And the barrister brought in Lefévre to verify, which he did. In the document, the writer offers the sale of sensitive information to the Antivan ambassador."
That surprised Estella. “Lady Costanza?"
Julien nodded. "The same. She was cleared of any wrongdoing, by the way; you need not worry that she's further up the tower or anything." He said that rather more gently, well aware as he was of Estella's fondness for the Costanzas. "Still... it might be worth talking to her. I suspect Lefévre was bribed; I'm not aware of any particular dislike he has for me otherwise. He's a strange little man—it might be that you could get something out of him as well. At the very least, I believe he has magically-rendered replicas of all the paper evidence. I doubt they'd let you see the originals, and even if they did, you wouldn't be able to take them anywhere."
Ves looked to be focusing quite intently. Probably having difficulty taking all of it in, but that was understandable given all of the players in the narrative that, as far as Estella knew, he'd never even heard of before. Aside from Celene of course. "Sounds like someone is very interested in seeing you dead. Or multiple someones. Are we the only ones going to be looking into this? No one else with a stake in your survival?"
Julien's expression shifted, a wryly-slanted smile pulling at his mouth. "A stake? Maybe. But my friends are usually not in very high places. The ones that are would be risking their own lives and livelihoods to do this, in a way that you aren't." He frowned a moment, eyes flicking back to Estella. "Not that I deny there's a risk to you. I'm humbled that you've taken even this much of one for my sake." He shifted, bracing one of his elbows on the chair back and settling the side of his jaw into his palm.
"I did try asking another friend to investigate this. She didn't get very far—few are willing to talk to a Bard about such things, fewer to an elf. You remember Kestrel, don't you, Stel?"
Estella felt her expression brighten, even despite herself. “Of course I do. Is she around? It would be good to talk to her about this and see what she managed to learn, I think." If there was a chance Kess had already spoken to some of the more challenging figures in this mess, then that was fewer chances for this to go very wrong. Elf and Bard she might be, but Kess was very good at learning what she wanted to know.
Julien huffed softly. "She has a contact somewhere in this prison, I'm sure of it. She probably already knows you're here. I wouldn't be surprised if she contacts you the moment you step out the front doors."
Cyrus cleared his throat then, looking very much as though something was bothering him. “The timing of this... it's all very strange. Suppose the judge really does have something against you—that might explain the speediness of your trial. But if it's as Rilien says and the Empress sentences you... why on earth did that happen so quickly? It seems like she'd have larger concerns at the moment, what with the ongoing war and such." He shook his head. “One thwarted overthrow is probably at least a biannual event for someone in her position. Hardly anything to panic over."
"Ah. So you've been in politics, then." Julien's eyes narrowed, a sort of dark mirth evident in his tone. "You're quite right, of course. But here, she had a very convenient two birds, one stone sort of opportunity. I only recently inherited my title and land, you see. And as of now, I have no heir. Not even a cousin or anything like that. The nearest claimant lords over some border region quite far from Arlesans."
“So if you died, your land would revert to the crown," Estella guessed, her lips thinning into an uneasy moue.
Julien nodded sharply. "Right in one, Stel. Now, my holdings aren't the largest, to be sure, but they do sit very comfortably on some of the best farmland in the country. And my family and our households have taken very good care of it. I don't mean to be indelicate, but I'm a wealthy man. Anyone who controlled the same area and managed it with half a brain would be." He paused, arching an eyebrow. "What I say here is of course merely conjecture, but... suppose you were a powerful chevalier leader under Gaspard de Chalons. The civil war has gone longer and cost you more men and money than you anticipated. Celene's forces seem to be slowly gaining the upper hand, and the neutrals are stopping you from getting the footholds you thought would be yours elsewhere. You want a way out, but your honor is niggling at you a bit. You don't want to be the first to defect, but your resources are depleted and you're quite ready to be done with the mess."
He shrugged. "Then the Empress herself comes along and makes you an offer: a parcel of very good land and an uncontested title to go with it. An end to the civil war, and an end to the needless death of the men you command, if only you would turn the tide in her favor."
“You really think...?" Estella let the sentence hang, taking half a step forward but pausing there.
Julien shook his head. "That she planned it from the start? Unlikely. But Celene, like all of them, is an opportunist. She'll take a chance if she sees one. So when I came up for trial, she might well have hastened it. And her need to reassert control over the political climate of Orlais is powerful—no one can deny that. She's done more deplorable things for less benefit before. If she can order the deaths of thousands of innocents without batting an eyelash, this is no challenge at all." He practically spat it; loathing palpably emanated from him.
Estella slowly watched him gather himself back together, pulling in a deep breath and smoothing his face over as well as he could. He wasn't especially good at it, but he made do.
“Julien..." she completed the step forward she'd started earlier, dropping her hands to the sides. She wasn't sure what to do with them. “We'll figure this out. Somehow." It was already extremely complicated, and no doubt it would be nearly impossible not to get tangled up in everything, but if they started slowly and carefully, she believed they could make sense of the threads here. It wasn't exactly the usual kind of problem the Inquisition solved, but there was no reason that they couldn't manage it between them. Or at least... if anyone could, they ought to be able to.
He rose, moving back to the bars. He let his hands rest at waist-height on the horizontal one there, leaning far enough forward to press his temple into one of the vertical slats. "I know you will." His certainty wasn't overt, but clearly it was present all the same. "I wish I could give you a more definite starting place, but I'm afraid the list of people with reasons to harm me is much longer than the list with reasons to help me. It seems best to start with whatever Kess figured out."
She nodded. “All right. We will. I'll be back in three days, if not before." It wasn't a lot of time; certainly not enough to go as slowly through evidence and discussions as she would have liked. But they'd just have to find some way around that. Estella refused to believe that they could fail.
"Don't—" Julien hesitated, then shook his head minutely, holding her eyes with his. "Don't risk too much, Stel. You know better than me what too much is, but... even though I asked for your help, don't feel obligated to sacrifice too much to this. There are more important things than my life. Your... Inquisition is surely one of them. I've always known what I risked, doing things the way I do. No one else should come down with me."
Estella closed her eyes for a short moment, nodding once before opening them again. What he was asking her to do was in some way harder than simply helping. Knowing when to stop trying to help—she was less good at that. But he was right. The Inquisition was more important than any single life, however much it pained her to admit. That didn't mean she was just going to use that as an excuse, though. “I promise," she said solemnly. “So try not to worry too much. We'll be careful."
"Good. Then I'll see you soon." He smiled, first at her, then the others. "I'll not speak of debts until the favor is done, but... you go with my gratitude even before that. Thank you."
Estella led them from La Flèche, sliding her sword back into her belt as she walked. Once her hands were free, she scrubbed them down her face, half a dozen thoughts warring for predominance in her head.
A hand found her shoulder before her own left her face. Ves's. He'd just finished securing his axe across his back, walking at a steady pace beside her. "Can't say I've ever had a friend facing execution before. You alright?"
She found herself leaning into it a little, dropping her hands away and letting them fall to her sides. “I haven't either. I'm not sure how it's supposed to feel, but I..." It was only just starting to settle in, really. That if they didn't do anything, Julien would be dead in three days. He'd always struck her as larger than life, almost untouchable. This was basically the opposite situation, and it wasn't doing anything good for her nerves, to be sure. “I'll be okay, I think." Better if they could figure out what in the world was going on, of course, but that would require keeping her focus through this part.
"Good." Ves applied a small squeeze of his fingers, and then returned his hand to his side. He seemed satisfied with the answer. "I'll admit, I'm a bit surprised at the amount of powerful people you know. An Antivan ambassador, a well-known marquis. Doesn't seem like the usual crowd for a mercenary."
“It isn't," she admitted. “But the Argent Lions aren't in the usual situation for mercenaries. Not considering who's in charge." She shook her head slightly. The Commander, however humble he insisted on his title being, was still a prince, and that meant his influence extended into the very upper reaches of Orlais. “I was part of a small group that did some bodyguard work for the Ambassador and her family. Better mercenaries than soldiers for that kind of thing, in some cases. And Julien's... he's not like most nobles."
Estella struggled to think of a way to explain it. “We met almost four years ago. He's very... unhappy, with the way things currently are in Orlais. And he was even then, when he wasn't the Marquis yet. He planned to kick the chevaliers off his lands as soon as he had the power to do it—he didn't like that they could do anything they wanted to commoners without fear of the law, and he didn't like that even the ones in his household were supposed to be loyal to the crown first." She couldn't blame him for either complaint, particularly not the first.
“But until he could do that, he wanted his people to be able to protect themselves. The household—servants, stewards, the ordinary Arlesans guard. Those people. He hired some of the Lions to train them in the basics. So that if the worst happened, they'd... have a fighting chance, I guess. There was no way anyone else would have agreed to do something like that, but the Commander could. And he did." She sighed heavily. “I didn't think much at the time about how it could look. It just seemed like a good thing to do, and I was happy to help do it. I've met some other people, through jobs or just through Commander Lucien, but not that many. I guess he wanted us all to understand what we were working towards."
Ves laughed softly, just the one, but it was devoid of any humor. "I can see how Julien has enemies, in a place like this. Better to start with friends, then. You know this Bard, Kestrel, as well?" He glanced between Estella and Rilien, offering the question to either.
“She is one of Lady Aurelie's agents. The same woman who trained me. Though I suspect she is involved in this more due to her friendships than her profession as such." Rilien offered an answer in lieu of one from Estella, but paused perhaps before he was properly finished. His eyes moved to a nearby street, a narrow one between two austere-looking buildings. “And I believe she is about to get in touch."
It was a child that approached the group, perhaps twelve years of age or so. Pointed ears stuck out prominently from his wayward scruff of brown hair, but he showed no fear as he moved closer to the armed group, stopping a few feet shy of Estella and bowing with rather better precision than his grimy appearance suggested. For a moment, he tilted his head upwards, peering intently at her face, as though looking for something in particular, but then he dropped back onto his heels. "Lady Inquisitor. Kess thinks you want to see her. She's at The Roost. Said you'd know where it is."
“We do." Rilien nodded, making a shrugging motion with one shoulder and dropping a silver bit from his sleeve into his palm. He gave it a deft toss; the boy caught it in midair without tracking it for more than a moment.
He grinned, exposing a few gaps in his teeth. "Much obliged, serah. Sers, milady." He ducked his head once more and fled.
Rilien folded his arms back into his sleeves. “She wouldn't send for you if her information wasn't at least worth hearing. Perhaps once we know what she knows, we will better know where we ought to begin."
Estella nodded. “It's a start, at least. Let's go see her."
Rilien had secured their right to enter the day before, when they'd arrived in the city. Estella actually owned a modest house not too far from the Lions' barracks in the harbor district, which was where they were staying for now. But it had seemed best to see Julien as soon as possible; she didn't even know what date had been set for his execution, and if they were under a time constraint, she needed to know as soon as possible. Pulling in a breath, she patted down her heavy maroon tunic—she'd dressed as a Lion for the day, conscious of the fact that it carried a weight here that the Inquisition itself might not. As weapons weren't allowed in the prison, she held her sword loosely in her hand, anticipating the need to give it to the guard on duty. Pursing her lips, she checked to make sure the others were all ready to enter behind her.
Rilien looked back at her unblinkingly, arms folded into his dark green sleeves. He was, as usual, dressed impeccably, also displaying no outward affiliations.
“Little obviously a prison tower, isn't it?" Cyrus shifted his weight slightly, arms crossed over his chest. He wore two swords, one at each side, but on Rilien's advice, was bereft of armor. He could have been any Orlesian gentleman, given the crispness and quality of his garments, but for the absence of a mask. A little gauche, here, but it was likely better not to pretend to too much. The truth in the best light was better than an outright lie.
Ves could not pass for Orlesian nobility, but that was more a result of his ears than anything. Instead he'd followed Estella's lead, and looked more of a mercenary than anything, albeit an off duty one given the lack of armor above his waist. His tunic was a dark blue instead of maroon, sleeves rolled to the elbows, with a few sparing pieces of leather and mail armor on his legs and plating his boots. Evidence that he was not in fact a servant of the group, even if the appearance of that would've been impossible to produce anyway. The axe was a little conspicuous, but the tower shield and spear probably would've been worse.
"Something about the highest room in the tallest tower is coming to mind," Ves said in something of a deadpan. He'd been looking around curiously ever since they arrived in the city, and had mentioned earlier that he'd never actually been to Val Royeaux before. He didn't look upon the tower with nearly the same enthusiasm as everything else, though. "Hopefully there's no dragons involved in the rescue here." He paused, frowning. "Though honestly that might make things simpler."
Estella huffed softly, their humor reaching her almost despite herself. “I'm sure Julien would be flattered to be compared to the princess in this scenario." It wasn't too far off, actually. Turning back towards the building, Estella gathered herself and headed in.
They were asked to leave their weapons at the entrance, which they did without protest. Estella handed over the writ of authorization, carefully making sure she didn't fidget while the warden took far more time than necessary to check it over. When at last she let them past with a nod, another of the guards stepped forward to escort them.
As it happened, Julien wasn't on the highest floor or anything, though he did seem to occupy a level by himself; all the other cells on the fourth level were empty as they walked by. Estella did her best to make her steps as quiet as Rilien's, almost able to lose the sound in the three other treads. It had been about two and a half years since she'd last seen Julien in person, and much had changed. She honestly wasn't sure how this was going to go. The postscript to his letter made her cautious, but the rest of it was too urgent to allow that cautiousness to overcome her better nature. Whatever else they may be, he was her friend, and he needed her help. She might be able to argue the politics of the situation, but those weren't what this was about—not for her.
“Julien," she murmured, drawing the attention of the sole occupant of the block. The cell he was in was modestly-appointed, certainly not the worst such place she'd seen, but not the best, either. It had a pallet and a small writing desk with a chair, and little else.
The man who occupied the chair looked like he'd been in better health, to be sure. The white silk shirt he wore was undone at the collar, his sleeves rolled neatly up to his elbows. It showed clear signs of wear and former dirt, not quite taken out by whatever method the prison allowed for laundering. He was still quite a lean man, though not soft; there were even slight calluses on his hands, as much from more physical pursuits as from writing and the like. When he heard her speak, he turned from where he was bent over the desk, pushing dark golden hair back from his face. It was a bit unkempt, but not too much longer than she knew him to prefer. Perhaps he hadn't been here long.
"Stel." His entire countenance changed, angular features aligning into an expression equal parts surprised and relieved. He swept striking golden eyes over her first, then let them move back to the others; she could see it when he registered who Cyrus must be. He was too sharp not to notice the similarity immediately, and then couple it deftly with the stories she'd told him of her brother back in Tevinter. "You came. I didn't expect you to—well, I thought you'd write first, at least." He stood, moving up to the bars and gripping one in each hand at about shoulder-height, which for him was almost half a foot above her own.
She offered a tentative smile, pausing a couple feet in front of the bars on the other side. “Of course I did," she said quietly. “And... I didn't know how long you had, so I didn't want to risk the time it would take to write. It seemed better to come directly."
He blinked once, then grimaced. "I'm sorry about that; I didn't know how much time I had either, at the time I wrote." He shook his head slightly. "As it is, I'm glad you did. I've three days."
“Just three?" Estella's eyes widened. “How long ago were you sentenced?"
"Oh, they wasted no time with any of it. I was arrested nine days ago, and tried four after that. Frankly, I'm surprised I didn't meet the guillotine the same night." His tone was dry, laconic, but there was an edge of genuine discomfort underneath it. He wore his emotions far more openly than most people, certainly far more openly than she did; it was all there to be read in the way he held himself and the way he spoke. He sighed. "But please. I mustn't neglect my manners, even in such situations as this. I've enough time to meet your companions before we settle in for the story. It's good to see you again, Rilien. Seneschal Rilien now, as I understand. Alas, the setting leaves much to be desired."
“Lord D'Artignon." Rilien acknowledged him with a slight nod. He gave no more than that, but then this was quite typical.
Julien certainly didn't seem to take it poorly. He was at least familiar with Rilien's particular mannerisms by this point. He tilted his head to the side, turning his eyes to her brother. "I can only assume this must be the infamous Cyrus. Your reputation precedes you." He dredged up a smile from somewhere.
“I find that happens rather a lot. Always nice when Stellulam's the one doing the talking, however; she does have this lovely habit of putting me in my very best light." Cyrus bowed slightly, the motion heavy with irony, considering that Julien was currently behind locked bars.
He huffed anyway, either seeing the dark humor in it or else just amused by something else Cy had said. "I have likewise been the recipient of such benevolence, I am certain. Julien D'Artignon, at your service. We can dispense with all the milords and titles and the like, if it's all the same to you. I'd hardly be in a position to insist even if I wanted to." His eyes fell last of all on Ves. "Alas, I have simply no guesses who you might be, serah. I daresay I'd certainly recall it if we'd met before." Half of the smile still tugged at his face, but it was not as easy as she remembered it. Perhaps understandable, given the circumstances.
"Vesryn Cormyth," he introduced himself, his tone amicable. He offered a nod his head in place of any bow. "I believe I'm the muscle here, for whatever that's worth." The way he said it was jokingly self-effacing, as it often was for these things, implying he did not in fact think his only worth here was from the strength of his arms. "But I'm also a friend of Stel's. Considering you're one of those as well, I'm sure we'll get along splendidly."
"She does have excellent taste," Julien replied in the same vein, exhaling a soft breath. His expression sobered somewhat, though.
His eyes found their way back to Estella. "I suppose you'll be wanting the whole story, then." When she nodded, he returned it, letting his arms drop to his sides. "I'd offer you all seats, but as you can see, there are none." Save the one next to his desk, anyway, which he took, dragging up to the cell door and sitting in backwards, so he could lay his arms over the back and prop his chin on them, looking up to maintain eye contact with her. She swallowed, but said nothing, waiting for him to explain.
"I've been accused of sedition. Specifically, a rather complicated plot involving the theft of a large weapons shipment and an attempt to sell information to Antiva. Both, presumably, to bolster my private army and increase my chance of capitalizing on the civil war to sweep in and steal the crown off Celene's head." His lip curled slightly. "Not that I'd mind, you understand, but I certainly had no plans to attempt it, especially not with those methods."
“A weapons shipment? And the Antivans?" Estella's brows furrowed. It didn't quite seem to connect as a coherent plot, but maybe if she put it together with some other things she knew about him...
"Mm." He hummed a discontent note in the back of his throat. "They wove it into a nice little narrative, actually. I already have a private force that does not include any chevaliers. It wasn't too hard to spin that into 'a standing army with no loyalty to anyone but him, in need of more arms.'" He said the words with exaggerated care, as though mimicking someone else. The barrister who'd made the argument, most likely. "And of course a deal with a foreign power would bolster my resources and allow me access to the House of Crows, since I wouldn't want to risk hiring a bard that might have some loyalty to motherland, or some such." He rolled his eyes. "It's not the worst plot to overthrow a government I could think of, but I like to believe I could do better, if I'd been of a mind to concoct such a scheme myself. But it convinced the Honorable Magistrate Dufour, and so here I am."
“Surely they would have needed more than a story to convict you? What evidence did they bring?" Cyrus arched his brows, glancing between Estella, Rilien, and Julien for a moment. “I'm assuming Magistrate Dufour is particularly... what? Traditional or something?"
Rilien nodded to the last. “Also the most senior judge on the High Court. Ergo, he sees particularly important cases. It was he who oversaw Ser Lucien's first trial, though only the Empress has the authority to sentence someone of particularly high stature. Dufour would have been able to condemn him, but she would have been the one who handed down the order for execution." He moved his eyes to Julien, as if to confirm.
"Precisely. And the dear old judge is the sort of person who hates me most." Julien sighed. "Still, I don't know how much of the real fault lies with him. There was, as you say, purported 'evidence.' Three main pieces of it: a ledger, a letter, and a... character witness." He shook his head slightly on the last.
“What sort of ledger?" Estella asked, brows knitting together.
"Oh, one of mine. I make an effort to track every shipment and payment I make and receive, either at Arlesans or in Val Royeaux. This particular one does a rather nice job of betraying a pattern of embezzlement—it seems I was both cheating the crown out of its fair share of tax revenue and also moving military supplies that then simply disappeared. Given that, I suppose it was more likely that I'd be shameless enough to steal an additional shipment and make it look like bandits." He smiled tightly. "Obviously, the ledger was doctored. I don't know by whom or how—the one to ask about that is Gauvain. I'm sure he'd be delighted to see you; he's been fretting himself rather sick, of late."
Estella imagined that he almost certainly had been. Gauvain had the demeanor for it, and with Julien in this much trouble, he was sure to be almost beside himself. She couldn't blame him. “What about the letter and the character witness?"
He scoffed. "Elodie Janvier was the character witness. I don't think you've met her. It's not an experience I recommend, but considering she very likely set the whole thing up, you might have to. Her entire purpose at the trial was to malign me as much as possible, so as to make it seem like I was exactly the sort of person who would do it. She can certainly be persuasive." His lip curled.
"The letter was perhaps the crux of the case. Even I think it looks like my handwriting. And the barrister brought in Lefévre to verify, which he did. In the document, the writer offers the sale of sensitive information to the Antivan ambassador."
That surprised Estella. “Lady Costanza?"
Julien nodded. "The same. She was cleared of any wrongdoing, by the way; you need not worry that she's further up the tower or anything." He said that rather more gently, well aware as he was of Estella's fondness for the Costanzas. "Still... it might be worth talking to her. I suspect Lefévre was bribed; I'm not aware of any particular dislike he has for me otherwise. He's a strange little man—it might be that you could get something out of him as well. At the very least, I believe he has magically-rendered replicas of all the paper evidence. I doubt they'd let you see the originals, and even if they did, you wouldn't be able to take them anywhere."
Ves looked to be focusing quite intently. Probably having difficulty taking all of it in, but that was understandable given all of the players in the narrative that, as far as Estella knew, he'd never even heard of before. Aside from Celene of course. "Sounds like someone is very interested in seeing you dead. Or multiple someones. Are we the only ones going to be looking into this? No one else with a stake in your survival?"
Julien's expression shifted, a wryly-slanted smile pulling at his mouth. "A stake? Maybe. But my friends are usually not in very high places. The ones that are would be risking their own lives and livelihoods to do this, in a way that you aren't." He frowned a moment, eyes flicking back to Estella. "Not that I deny there's a risk to you. I'm humbled that you've taken even this much of one for my sake." He shifted, bracing one of his elbows on the chair back and settling the side of his jaw into his palm.
"I did try asking another friend to investigate this. She didn't get very far—few are willing to talk to a Bard about such things, fewer to an elf. You remember Kestrel, don't you, Stel?"
Estella felt her expression brighten, even despite herself. “Of course I do. Is she around? It would be good to talk to her about this and see what she managed to learn, I think." If there was a chance Kess had already spoken to some of the more challenging figures in this mess, then that was fewer chances for this to go very wrong. Elf and Bard she might be, but Kess was very good at learning what she wanted to know.
Julien huffed softly. "She has a contact somewhere in this prison, I'm sure of it. She probably already knows you're here. I wouldn't be surprised if she contacts you the moment you step out the front doors."
Cyrus cleared his throat then, looking very much as though something was bothering him. “The timing of this... it's all very strange. Suppose the judge really does have something against you—that might explain the speediness of your trial. But if it's as Rilien says and the Empress sentences you... why on earth did that happen so quickly? It seems like she'd have larger concerns at the moment, what with the ongoing war and such." He shook his head. “One thwarted overthrow is probably at least a biannual event for someone in her position. Hardly anything to panic over."
"Ah. So you've been in politics, then." Julien's eyes narrowed, a sort of dark mirth evident in his tone. "You're quite right, of course. But here, she had a very convenient two birds, one stone sort of opportunity. I only recently inherited my title and land, you see. And as of now, I have no heir. Not even a cousin or anything like that. The nearest claimant lords over some border region quite far from Arlesans."
“So if you died, your land would revert to the crown," Estella guessed, her lips thinning into an uneasy moue.
Julien nodded sharply. "Right in one, Stel. Now, my holdings aren't the largest, to be sure, but they do sit very comfortably on some of the best farmland in the country. And my family and our households have taken very good care of it. I don't mean to be indelicate, but I'm a wealthy man. Anyone who controlled the same area and managed it with half a brain would be." He paused, arching an eyebrow. "What I say here is of course merely conjecture, but... suppose you were a powerful chevalier leader under Gaspard de Chalons. The civil war has gone longer and cost you more men and money than you anticipated. Celene's forces seem to be slowly gaining the upper hand, and the neutrals are stopping you from getting the footholds you thought would be yours elsewhere. You want a way out, but your honor is niggling at you a bit. You don't want to be the first to defect, but your resources are depleted and you're quite ready to be done with the mess."
He shrugged. "Then the Empress herself comes along and makes you an offer: a parcel of very good land and an uncontested title to go with it. An end to the civil war, and an end to the needless death of the men you command, if only you would turn the tide in her favor."
“You really think...?" Estella let the sentence hang, taking half a step forward but pausing there.
Julien shook his head. "That she planned it from the start? Unlikely. But Celene, like all of them, is an opportunist. She'll take a chance if she sees one. So when I came up for trial, she might well have hastened it. And her need to reassert control over the political climate of Orlais is powerful—no one can deny that. She's done more deplorable things for less benefit before. If she can order the deaths of thousands of innocents without batting an eyelash, this is no challenge at all." He practically spat it; loathing palpably emanated from him.
Estella slowly watched him gather himself back together, pulling in a deep breath and smoothing his face over as well as he could. He wasn't especially good at it, but he made do.
“Julien..." she completed the step forward she'd started earlier, dropping her hands to the sides. She wasn't sure what to do with them. “We'll figure this out. Somehow." It was already extremely complicated, and no doubt it would be nearly impossible not to get tangled up in everything, but if they started slowly and carefully, she believed they could make sense of the threads here. It wasn't exactly the usual kind of problem the Inquisition solved, but there was no reason that they couldn't manage it between them. Or at least... if anyone could, they ought to be able to.
He rose, moving back to the bars. He let his hands rest at waist-height on the horizontal one there, leaning far enough forward to press his temple into one of the vertical slats. "I know you will." His certainty wasn't overt, but clearly it was present all the same. "I wish I could give you a more definite starting place, but I'm afraid the list of people with reasons to harm me is much longer than the list with reasons to help me. It seems best to start with whatever Kess figured out."
She nodded. “All right. We will. I'll be back in three days, if not before." It wasn't a lot of time; certainly not enough to go as slowly through evidence and discussions as she would have liked. But they'd just have to find some way around that. Estella refused to believe that they could fail.
"Don't—" Julien hesitated, then shook his head minutely, holding her eyes with his. "Don't risk too much, Stel. You know better than me what too much is, but... even though I asked for your help, don't feel obligated to sacrifice too much to this. There are more important things than my life. Your... Inquisition is surely one of them. I've always known what I risked, doing things the way I do. No one else should come down with me."
Estella closed her eyes for a short moment, nodding once before opening them again. What he was asking her to do was in some way harder than simply helping. Knowing when to stop trying to help—she was less good at that. But he was right. The Inquisition was more important than any single life, however much it pained her to admit. That didn't mean she was just going to use that as an excuse, though. “I promise," she said solemnly. “So try not to worry too much. We'll be careful."
"Good. Then I'll see you soon." He smiled, first at her, then the others. "I'll not speak of debts until the favor is done, but... you go with my gratitude even before that. Thank you."
Estella led them from La Flèche, sliding her sword back into her belt as she walked. Once her hands were free, she scrubbed them down her face, half a dozen thoughts warring for predominance in her head.
A hand found her shoulder before her own left her face. Ves's. He'd just finished securing his axe across his back, walking at a steady pace beside her. "Can't say I've ever had a friend facing execution before. You alright?"
She found herself leaning into it a little, dropping her hands away and letting them fall to her sides. “I haven't either. I'm not sure how it's supposed to feel, but I..." It was only just starting to settle in, really. That if they didn't do anything, Julien would be dead in three days. He'd always struck her as larger than life, almost untouchable. This was basically the opposite situation, and it wasn't doing anything good for her nerves, to be sure. “I'll be okay, I think." Better if they could figure out what in the world was going on, of course, but that would require keeping her focus through this part.
"Good." Ves applied a small squeeze of his fingers, and then returned his hand to his side. He seemed satisfied with the answer. "I'll admit, I'm a bit surprised at the amount of powerful people you know. An Antivan ambassador, a well-known marquis. Doesn't seem like the usual crowd for a mercenary."
“It isn't," she admitted. “But the Argent Lions aren't in the usual situation for mercenaries. Not considering who's in charge." She shook her head slightly. The Commander, however humble he insisted on his title being, was still a prince, and that meant his influence extended into the very upper reaches of Orlais. “I was part of a small group that did some bodyguard work for the Ambassador and her family. Better mercenaries than soldiers for that kind of thing, in some cases. And Julien's... he's not like most nobles."
Estella struggled to think of a way to explain it. “We met almost four years ago. He's very... unhappy, with the way things currently are in Orlais. And he was even then, when he wasn't the Marquis yet. He planned to kick the chevaliers off his lands as soon as he had the power to do it—he didn't like that they could do anything they wanted to commoners without fear of the law, and he didn't like that even the ones in his household were supposed to be loyal to the crown first." She couldn't blame him for either complaint, particularly not the first.
“But until he could do that, he wanted his people to be able to protect themselves. The household—servants, stewards, the ordinary Arlesans guard. Those people. He hired some of the Lions to train them in the basics. So that if the worst happened, they'd... have a fighting chance, I guess. There was no way anyone else would have agreed to do something like that, but the Commander could. And he did." She sighed heavily. “I didn't think much at the time about how it could look. It just seemed like a good thing to do, and I was happy to help do it. I've met some other people, through jobs or just through Commander Lucien, but not that many. I guess he wanted us all to understand what we were working towards."
Ves laughed softly, just the one, but it was devoid of any humor. "I can see how Julien has enemies, in a place like this. Better to start with friends, then. You know this Bard, Kestrel, as well?" He glanced between Estella and Rilien, offering the question to either.
“She is one of Lady Aurelie's agents. The same woman who trained me. Though I suspect she is involved in this more due to her friendships than her profession as such." Rilien offered an answer in lieu of one from Estella, but paused perhaps before he was properly finished. His eyes moved to a nearby street, a narrow one between two austere-looking buildings. “And I believe she is about to get in touch."
It was a child that approached the group, perhaps twelve years of age or so. Pointed ears stuck out prominently from his wayward scruff of brown hair, but he showed no fear as he moved closer to the armed group, stopping a few feet shy of Estella and bowing with rather better precision than his grimy appearance suggested. For a moment, he tilted his head upwards, peering intently at her face, as though looking for something in particular, but then he dropped back onto his heels. "Lady Inquisitor. Kess thinks you want to see her. She's at The Roost. Said you'd know where it is."
“We do." Rilien nodded, making a shrugging motion with one shoulder and dropping a silver bit from his sleeve into his palm. He gave it a deft toss; the boy caught it in midair without tracking it for more than a moment.
He grinned, exposing a few gaps in his teeth. "Much obliged, serah. Sers, milady." He ducked his head once more and fled.
Rilien folded his arms back into his sleeves. “She wouldn't send for you if her information wasn't at least worth hearing. Perhaps once we know what she knows, we will better know where we ought to begin."
Estella nodded. “It's a start, at least. Let's go see her."