Estella was frankly very glad Ves had been here for this part of it, because she wasn't sure what, if anything, she would have been able to say that would have meant anything to Seril. Even standing here, having only witnessed some of what had taken place three years ago was making her uncomfortable and guilty in ways she could not fully explain. She couldn't imagine the mindset of someone who had to live here, having experienced not only the horrors of that night, but the nights after, when the fires at last died down and the dead were accounted for. She wasn't sure if the faint scent of ashes she smelled on the breeze was actual or just forced there by memory.
Still... he did have the right of it. If there was some way, any way, that they could possibly get these Cendredoights to come around, then... what? She supposed she didn't really know. But maybe it would be something. If, as seemed increasingly-likely, they'd had something to do with the frame-up of Julien, maybe they could be convinced to help undo what they'd done. She dearly hoped it was so; the alternatives seemed too terrible to contemplate.
She led the group from the Alienage; the dockside part of the area wasn't too far from the familiar harbor district. She'd been here more than once before, usually in the company of other Lions. Cor had spent a great deal of time in the Alienage, once, and liked to always bring at least one of the others with him when he went. Trust was a matter of time and effort, but association could go a long way, too. She saw the wisdom in itâthat trust by association was probably the only reason they'd been able to evacuate anyone at all.
They'd made it out into the empty zone of the Alienage, well away from the center. As before, there seemed to be no one around at all; clearly however many elves dwelt here now, it was nothing compared to the previous population. It wasn't hard to believe that many of those fortunate enough to escape had chosen to remain wherever they escaped to.
A firm hand gripped Estella's shoulder without warning, pulling her backwards hard enough to make her lose her balance entirely and stagger; Rilien stepped in front of her in the same smooth motion, knife in-hand. The enchanted steel flashed as he sliced it through air, catching a throwing blade in the middle of its trajectory and deflecting it away.
âAmbush." He cocked his head slightly, as though listening for more movement. âAbove."
Estella regained her balance quickly, her hand automatically finding the hilt of her saber, though she was reluctant to draw it, given who this ambush had likely been arranged by. They were still within the bounds of the Alienage, perhaps on the way towards discovering even more than Julien had, and in much less time due to their ability to follow his tracks this far. It wasn't hard to suppose that those he'd been seeking did not enjoy being sought, and were protecting themselves accordingly.
Even as she debated it, though, a volley of arrows was descending towards them. Ves wasn't carrying his tower shield; considering that, the best option was just to press herself against the wall of the nearest building, and she scrambled to do it in time, a near-miss skimming her right arm and leaving a jagged cut there to ooze blood. Clicking her tongue against the side of her teeth, Estella abandoned the effort to draw her weapon and gripped the wound with her other hand, applying pressure.
âWe mean you no harm!" she called to whoever might be listening. No doubt they were within the burned-out buildings. âPlease, we can talk this out. We're not here to expose you, or hurt anyone."
Unfortunately, her words seemed to make no difference; the door closest to her burst open, three masked and hooded figures brandishing short blades headed towards her. The case seemed to be the same elsewhere; it looked like a dozen people or so overall, all their identities obscured by cloth and metal.
The third figure coming out the door towards Estella didn't quite make it out in time, before Ves's large frame smashed into the door from the other side, slamming the masked figure into the door frame and knocking him momentarily senseless. Ves hadn't been as quick or as lucky as Estella had been with the arrows; one protruded from his left shoulder. He wasn't wearing proper armor to stop it, nor did he seem inclined to draw his weapon, instead fighting barehanded.
He had to turn on an elf rushing him from behind, twisting with swift reflexes to dodge a throwing blade before the attacker reached him. "We don't want to fight you!" he shouted, all the words he had time for before he had to sidestep a lunge, grabbing the elf's arm and using his impressive strength to hurl him around into a building, wrenching the short blade free in the process. He cast the weapon aside.
Cyrus was also barehanded, having not gone for the swords he wore at either side. He was fending off a pair of assailants rather more awkwardly than Vesryn. They were clearly quite well-trained, all things considered. When one moved in low, attempting to stab him, he raised a handâand nothing happened.
The knife slid home where it had been placed, which was probably quite close to his kidney or thereabouts. A sharp breath hissed out from between his teeth. The second ambusher nearly took advantage, until Rilien deftly tripped them, slamming the hilt of a knife into the back of their head while they were unbalanced. They fell facefirst and hard into the ground, but there was no reason to believe they were any worse than unconscious.
For a moment, Cyrus stared in horror at his own hand, but he shook it off quickly, pulling the knife out of his side with a grunt and tossing it away. Blood stained his tunic in an ever-growing blotch, but he kept his focus, catching the fist thrown at him next and sidestepping, taking out his assailant's balance with a well-placed blow to the back of the knee.
âStellulam? They aren't listening." There was a sort of tight control in his voice, a sure indication that he was feeling more pain than he allowed himself to express.
She knew they weren't, and she was having trouble figuring out what to do about it. âDon'tâdon't kill anyone, justâ" That much was likely extremely obvious to all of them anyway, but before she could really even think about anything else, she was fighting off another.
The person who'd stepped in this time moved faster than the rest by quite a lot. Of middling height, their gender was just as uncertain as that of the rest of their compatriots. Their face was fully-covered by a featureless white mask, the only gaps in it two holes for the eyes and a thin slit by way of a mouth. The hood secured around their head with a band was black, as was the rest of their loose clothing, occasionally supplemented in places with armor. The knife in their left hand moved unerringly for Estella, forcing her to take a large jump backwards, then raise a hand to block the quick kick that came for her as soon as she was out of stabbing range.
âPlease, stop. I'm really not going toâ" She turned aside another blow, her jaw clicking shut as she was forced to abandon her efforts to talk in favor of efforts to keep herself alive. She knew she had a much better chance if she drew her blade here, but that would be an act of hostility directly against the point she was trying to get across here. Hand-to-hand was not her strength, but maybe...
Rilien had not put his knives away, but he also was not deploying them lethallyânot at the moment. Of course, it was hard to say that it would remain so if he sensed a need to speed things up for her sake. As it was, he was quite suited to exactly this kind of fight, and the armed agents did not seem to pose him much in terms of problems; he was faster and stronger both than the would-be assassins who tried to kill him, but knocking them out was a slower process than killing them instead.
Cyrus, with a major knife wound still freely-bleeding in his side, wasn't finding it quite so easy. He seemed at times to be fighting his own instinct as well as his foes; there were sometimes awkward pauses in his motions, in exactly the same places he would have cast spells before. They weren't enough to earn him any devastating wounds like before, but he was picking up his fair share of injuries trying to fend off his attackers with his hands and nothing else. He managed to elbow one into a wall just in time to bend away from another attempted stabbing, but he was unprepared for the sweep that knocked his legs out from under him, and landed hard on his back.
From behind the one that tripped Cyrus, a powerful hand closed around the attacker's shoulder, yanking them forcefully away and into a brutally strong punch that knocked the mask clean off. There was no time to see the person's face, as they collapsed in a heap on the ground, hood concealing their features. Vesryn obviously didn't prefer hand to hand, but he or at least Saraya seemed more than practiced enough in it, dispatching one assailant after another with an efficient, heavy style, rarely requiring more than one or two blows to incapacitate their smaller and lighter enemies. His raw speed wasn't a match, but in terms of quickness and hand-eye coordination he seemed to be above their level.
He wrapped around behind one, one of the few remaining attackers in the ambush, wrapping his arms around their neck in a sleeper hold. The elf grabbed for the arrow in his shoulder, but if it pained Vesryn a great deal, he didn't let it show, quickly restraining the arm and sinking down towards the ground. "Stop struggling," he urged, tightening his grip. "I'm not going to hurt you any more than I have to." Eventually, the choice to stop struggling was no longer a choice, and the attacker's body went slack.
It was fairly clear to Estella by this point that the one she was contending with had to be the leader of this group. Remembering what Seril had said, she ducked a slash and strafed to the side. âQ? You're Q, aren't you? Please, we're really not here to harm youâah!" The knife sliced through her shirt at the forearm, opening a bloody gash there to match the one on the same tricep, from the arrow.
There was a scoff, barely audible, but very clearly a noise of at least mild disgust or frustration. It was hard to say why, but at this point it didn't really matter. Estella had to do something, or the next one might not miss. She couldn't draw her swordâeven if she'd changed her mind about wanting to, it would take precious seconds she no longer had. And she hadn't really changed her mind anyway. She didn't want to risk using the mark here, either; these buildings weren't stable-looking, the mark wasn't stable as a rule, and there was still a pretty good chance something would go wrong.
For once, though... she had a viable third option. Taking a deep breath, she reached inside herself for the magic, feeling it hum to life under her skin. She didn't try to force it out into the world beyond her body though, instead letting it settle against her bones and muscles and skin, warm and reassuring, almost like being embraced, or protected by something steady and sure.
She saw the figure's body contract, and knew they were about to stab. She reacted almost before she had the thoughtâor more like the time between her thought and the motion of her body was just... shorter. Much shorter. It was still a little awkward; she accidentally cut part of her hand on the knife as she reached forward, but her fingers did close around Q's wrist.
The person beneath the mask reacted with surprise, trying to pull away, but Estella's grip was tightâtighter than she would have thought. It gave her enough leverage to pull the person forward, wrap her arms around them, and take them both to the ground.
It was a struggle once they got there: Q kicked, bucked, and continued to try and stab her, but she managed to pin their wrist to the ground first, planting a knee against their sternum and her other on their hip. âStop! I won'tâ" she cut herself off, eyes widening. She could see deeper into the mask now, enough to make out the person's eyes. That color... she knew that color. Tinged with just a tiny bit of yellow.
âNo," she breathed, but her free hand was already reaching up, pulling loose the band holding Q's hood to their head. It fell away, dark brown hair spilling from the cloth; with a quick motion, Estella pulled the mask free as well.
It couldn't be. But it was.
â...Kess?"
Her lips pulled back from her teeth in an almost-snarl, twisting her face until it was far angrier than Estella had ever seen it. "Let me go." She hissed the words as much as she spoke them, still struggling beneath Estella's magically-enhanced grip. "If you don't intend to hurt me, stop trying to break my wrist, shem."
The word hit Estella probably harder than the knife had. She loosened her grip immediately and stood, taking a step backwards. âI'm sorry, I didn't mean toâ" She swallowed. Maybe trying magic she barely knew wasn't the best idea, but... âKess, you're Q? But... But Julien, and the frame-up? Was that...?" They'd all been friends. Shared meals, and living space, and laughter and stupid conversations far too late at night on the roof of Julien's estate.
She was sure that for once, her emotions were scrawled openly across her face. She couldn't have hidden her shock or dismay even if she'd been inclined to. âWhy are you here? Why did you attack us?" She hated how small she sounded. How pathetic.
Kestrel pulled herself to her feet, rubbing at her wrist with her other hand. Her knife had found its way back into a sheath at the base of her spine, but she regarded them warily. Perhaps more so because of her unconscious comrades, still strewn about the makeshift battlefield. For a moment, something akin to regret or pity crossed her face, but she banished it just as quickly. "You weren't supposed to get this far." She shook her head, disturbing her loose hair. "You were supposed to look into this, find nothing interesting, and go back to Skyhold where you belong."
She grimaced; Rilien had circled behind her at some point, and she'd clearly just noticed the fact that her most likely escape route was cut off. "Kill me if you must, but I'm not telling you anything."
"We're not killing anyone," Vesryn said, his tone more frustrated than anything. He had discarded the elf now unconscious beneath him, stood, and removed the arrow from his shoulder, putting pressure on the wound. "Are we not all on the same side here?"
"No. We aren't." Kestrel shook her head, tone sharp. "People like you... you think that they can be reasoned with. The nobles. That they can just be made to see the error of their ways if they were only allowed time, or the right intellectual argument, or whatever. They can't. And the time we waste doing that, any time we spend under their boots... that's more chances for one insane woman to decide all of us deserve to die. Mien'harel is the answer. The only one that will protect us, in the end."
Cyrus, having some difficulty getting to his feet, grunted, temporarily drawing Kestrel's attention. âBut of course you're few, and so your revolution must be quiet, yes?" His tone didn't give away much; when he finally was able to stand, he leaned heavily against a wall, hand pressed to the wound in his side.
"Yes." Kestrel apparently didn't count that much in the information she was unwilling to reveal, at least. Perhaps because she suspected they already knew. "An old man dies of natural causes. A mid-level bureaucrat finds herself with a discrepancy in a chevalier's paperwork. Bandits steal weapons. These things all happen. Sometimes, they happen with help. But if the veil is lifted, the help is dead. Do you understand that, I wonder?" She turned her eyes to Estella. "You have a fortress. Before that, you had a barracks. And you've always had your humanity. More protection than any of my people have ever had."
âYou're right," Estella conceded, her voice soft. âI can't possibly understand what it was like, growing up in an Alienage. I can't know the fear they knew, when the soldiers came for them and burned their homes. I don't understand what it feels like to walk around the world in a body that so many people see as lesser." Just for a few physical features, no less. âBut... is it so impossible that I might want to help you anyway? That I might care what happens to you, and people like you? Kestrel... I'm your friend. Julien's your friend. You don't... you and these Cendredoights, you don't have to do this by yourselves. There are people who will listen. People who aren't like Celene or those soldiers."
She swallowed thickly, unsure how much more of a case she could even make for herself. In some ways, the point was moot: there wasn't much Kess could do now one way or another. But Estella had no plans to let anything bad befall her for this, and more than that, she wanted to work out some kind of solution to this. So that no one else had to die for it. Not Kess or Julien or anyone.
Kestrel crossed her arms. "You don't understand. Our invisibility is the only thing protecting us. Even now, the only thing protecting the others is the guarantee that I will not tell you who they are. Even this much... if you want to stop that execution, you're going to have to out us all. And even knowing we exist, even knowing that the Cendredoights are operating. Do you have any idea how much paranoia that's going to cause? How many servants will be turned out onto the street or worse? How many atrocities will be licensed under the guise of weeding out bad ones? One slip, from anyone. That's all it would take. One careless word from Julien, one intercepted letter from you, and the cycle repeats itself."
She could see the reasoning, at least. In a way, that only made this harder. If the frame up and this attack were both just attempts to protect themselves when people got too close to discovering the secret, Estella could see why they would have chosen such methods. âBut... we do know, now," she said, trying to put it kindly and not let it sound like a threat. âYou're right that I want to free Julien, but I don't want to do that by revealing anything about you. Surely there must be some kind of way to get him a better trial without implicating any of your people in this."
Kestrel sighed deeply. "You really mean that, don't you?" Her tone was more sardonic than anything, and a bit weary, as though maintaining her anger was costing her more energy than she really had. "Look. I still think you're wrong. I'm sure I know what you're thinking. You believe that if all the right people are in power, they'll decide to make things better for elves and somehow accomplish it. You think all that needs to happen is for the right body to be sitting on the throne, or in the council, or whatever. But it's not as easy as that, Stel. The thrones and councils are the problem. Because for every beneficent dictator there's a mad tyrant, and as long as our fates are tied to that... we're no better off than we were."
âSurely a beneficent dictator is a decent start though, no?" Cyrus was starting to look rather pale, face damp with sweat. Blood loss, no doubt. Whatever happened here needed to happen reasonably quickly, to be sure. âGives you a bit of time to work in, impending threat of purging and utter tyranny shelved for a good thirty to sixty years?"
She didn't look amused, but then it hadn't really been a joke. "Fine. This has all been going south since that damn letter anyway. We can work something out, but I'm going to need complete silence from all of you and Julien. I was never here, you were never here, and he never looked into a damn thing. If this gets out, I'll know whose fault it is that we all get killed." She grimaced. "Not much consolation."
Estella nodded, feeling herself relax a little bit. âOf course we'll keep it to ourselves. And I'm sure Julien will, too, once he understands what's going on." It was enough resolution at least for her to turn away a bit and get to Cyrus, her rather feeble healing spell at her fingertips. Still... bodies weren't that different, and her increasing familiarity with her own was at least somewhat helpful in patching up others. She could stop his bleeding and scab him over, anyway.
âWhat do you mean, though? About things gong south since the letter? If you can say."
Cyrus exhaled softly, easing a little as she worked. Kestrel, on the other hand, crossed her arms.
"We're not stupid. We know Julien's more use to us alive than deadâonly a few of us wanted to kill him when he got too close. The rest of us just wanted to make sure he never got any closer. Few years in prison would work just fine. In that span of time, he'd be bound to forget about it, or stop caring. And a few key pieces of his evidence might go missing, if we could make it happen, just in case."
âYou only framed him for embezzlement, not sedition." Rilien delivered his guess neutrally. It was actually hard to say if it was a guess. He might have been quite certain by this point.
Kestrel nodded. âYes. Our agent closest to him was put in charge of that. But when the opportunity arose, the damn duchess didn't just find the evidence we arranged for her, she added to it. We couldn't have fixed that without drawing suspicion, and the trial was so fast we didn't have any other options but to let it happen."
"Agent closest to him?" Vesryn repeated. He shook his head slightly and lowered his gaze, obviously knowing who was being referred to there, but refrained from saying the name out loud, perhaps out of respect for the group's valued privacy.
Estella had the same instinct. Frankly, she wasn't sure what to make of all of this. Gauvain was another friend, and she couldn't believe that the care he had for Julien was anything but genuine. It occurred to her that what she might be offering to protect here risked hurting more of her friends in the future. They'd killed one man, however much he might have deserved it. If things had been left as they were, Julien would have died, too, innocent of the crimes he'd been convicted of and apparently not enough of a concern to at least the Cendredoights as a whole that they'd risk anything to rectify the mistake.
If they all even saw it as a mistake.
What happened if, in the future, they elected to hurt more of the people she cared about? What if it were Sabino or Lady Costanza that was inconvenient to their purposes? What if it were Commander Lucien? She wasn't sure what to make of the implications. What if others in the group disagreed with Kestrel's decision here and tried to have her friends silenced for knowing too much? Rilien and Ves and Cy? They were all strong, to be sure, but agents like this worked in the dark, and everyone slept. Even Saraya, now.
What was she supposed to tell Julien? It seemed like he had a right to know what Gauvain had doneâintentionally or not, it had very nearly killed him. But clearly, the guilt for that was tearing at the steward as well. She didn't want to make things worse. She hated having this much power over what happened to other people... and at the same time, she was learning to hate not having more of it. Not being able to see what lay at the end of all the threads. What the best decision was.
âKess, do you..." She paused, awkward and uncomfortable, taking her hand away from Cyrus's side and making eye contact with the other woman. âWas it real?" She wasn't even sure what relevance the question really had to the others swirling around in her head, but it was somehow the one that burned at her the most, selfish as that must be.
Kestrel broke the eye contact first, hers hitting the ground underneath their feet. "More than I wanted it to be." Her tone softened slightly, but then she expelled a sharp breath. "But less than you thought." Her lips pursed, features hardening. "We've taken most of the weapons, but you can have the crates and what's left. You'll have to lie about where you found it, of course, but as long as it wasn't anything to do with Julien, that should be enough." With the new evidence about the letter, it would almost certainly get him released.
"You say you want to help us, Stel. Thisâall of thisâis your chance to prove it. We'll be watching."
âI understand," she said quietly. It shouldn't be too hard to come up with some kind of story about the shipment. Lying to a court wasn't exactly a fantastic idea, but compared to either of the alternatives, it was easy to choose. It was the long-term implications of this decision she was most worried about.
She hoped she wasn't choosing wrongly, but she just couldn't see any better option than to hope that, if she took this chance and did prove the truth of her own words, then... enough people would believe her that maybe there would be some chance for the future. But she'd been wrong before, and she wasn't certain enough to rely on her judgement alone. âBut I'm not the only one here. I can'tâI won't speak for everyone, and I won't deceive you about that."
âYou are not required to prove anything to anyone." Rilien sheathed his knife, but he didn't take his eyes off Kestrel, despite the fact that he was speaking to Estella. âThey tried to kill you. It is not your obligation to pacify them, however worthwhile you find their cause. If this is what you wish to do, then do it. But no undue burden lies on you here. They have taken their own risks, and must accept the consequences of their own actions." He folded his hands into his sleeves. Apparently, he was willing to defer to her judgement in the matter.
Cyrus, still looking a bit pale, lifted his shoulders. âFor the record, I'm none too fond of being stabbed. But if Kestrel here is willing to hand over the shipment and place that much trust in us not to out her entire organization, well... the risk of future harm is probably a better bet than guaranteed future harm." He made a face. âYou've always been better at this than me, Stellulam. Whatever you think is right, I'll do. But I'm inclined to help them."
"The way I see it," Vesryn said, still keeping pressure on his shoulder. "We're not the only ones with an opportunity to prove something." He looked for Kestrel's eyes. "Don't make Celene right. Defend our people if you have to, but consider if it's worth any cost. I know nothing is ever that simple. And I know nothing of what you've suffered, but... take it for what you will." He shrugged, perhaps not fully satisfied with his own words, or maybe just pained a bit now that the fight was over.
He looked to Estella. "For the people they're protecting here, I think we should keep their secret. But they're not the only ones who can keep a watch."
Estella pulled in a breath and then released it, nodding slightly. They were right. All of them, in their respective ways. This was a risk, she didn't have to do it, and... it was the right thing to do anyway. For the people the Cendredoights were protecting. âAll right," she said. âTake us to the shipment. We'll do the rest."
Hopefully, she wouldn't regret it.
Still... he did have the right of it. If there was some way, any way, that they could possibly get these Cendredoights to come around, then... what? She supposed she didn't really know. But maybe it would be something. If, as seemed increasingly-likely, they'd had something to do with the frame-up of Julien, maybe they could be convinced to help undo what they'd done. She dearly hoped it was so; the alternatives seemed too terrible to contemplate.
She led the group from the Alienage; the dockside part of the area wasn't too far from the familiar harbor district. She'd been here more than once before, usually in the company of other Lions. Cor had spent a great deal of time in the Alienage, once, and liked to always bring at least one of the others with him when he went. Trust was a matter of time and effort, but association could go a long way, too. She saw the wisdom in itâthat trust by association was probably the only reason they'd been able to evacuate anyone at all.
They'd made it out into the empty zone of the Alienage, well away from the center. As before, there seemed to be no one around at all; clearly however many elves dwelt here now, it was nothing compared to the previous population. It wasn't hard to believe that many of those fortunate enough to escape had chosen to remain wherever they escaped to.
A firm hand gripped Estella's shoulder without warning, pulling her backwards hard enough to make her lose her balance entirely and stagger; Rilien stepped in front of her in the same smooth motion, knife in-hand. The enchanted steel flashed as he sliced it through air, catching a throwing blade in the middle of its trajectory and deflecting it away.
âAmbush." He cocked his head slightly, as though listening for more movement. âAbove."
Estella regained her balance quickly, her hand automatically finding the hilt of her saber, though she was reluctant to draw it, given who this ambush had likely been arranged by. They were still within the bounds of the Alienage, perhaps on the way towards discovering even more than Julien had, and in much less time due to their ability to follow his tracks this far. It wasn't hard to suppose that those he'd been seeking did not enjoy being sought, and were protecting themselves accordingly.
Even as she debated it, though, a volley of arrows was descending towards them. Ves wasn't carrying his tower shield; considering that, the best option was just to press herself against the wall of the nearest building, and she scrambled to do it in time, a near-miss skimming her right arm and leaving a jagged cut there to ooze blood. Clicking her tongue against the side of her teeth, Estella abandoned the effort to draw her weapon and gripped the wound with her other hand, applying pressure.
âWe mean you no harm!" she called to whoever might be listening. No doubt they were within the burned-out buildings. âPlease, we can talk this out. We're not here to expose you, or hurt anyone."
Unfortunately, her words seemed to make no difference; the door closest to her burst open, three masked and hooded figures brandishing short blades headed towards her. The case seemed to be the same elsewhere; it looked like a dozen people or so overall, all their identities obscured by cloth and metal.
The third figure coming out the door towards Estella didn't quite make it out in time, before Ves's large frame smashed into the door from the other side, slamming the masked figure into the door frame and knocking him momentarily senseless. Ves hadn't been as quick or as lucky as Estella had been with the arrows; one protruded from his left shoulder. He wasn't wearing proper armor to stop it, nor did he seem inclined to draw his weapon, instead fighting barehanded.
He had to turn on an elf rushing him from behind, twisting with swift reflexes to dodge a throwing blade before the attacker reached him. "We don't want to fight you!" he shouted, all the words he had time for before he had to sidestep a lunge, grabbing the elf's arm and using his impressive strength to hurl him around into a building, wrenching the short blade free in the process. He cast the weapon aside.
Cyrus was also barehanded, having not gone for the swords he wore at either side. He was fending off a pair of assailants rather more awkwardly than Vesryn. They were clearly quite well-trained, all things considered. When one moved in low, attempting to stab him, he raised a handâand nothing happened.
The knife slid home where it had been placed, which was probably quite close to his kidney or thereabouts. A sharp breath hissed out from between his teeth. The second ambusher nearly took advantage, until Rilien deftly tripped them, slamming the hilt of a knife into the back of their head while they were unbalanced. They fell facefirst and hard into the ground, but there was no reason to believe they were any worse than unconscious.
For a moment, Cyrus stared in horror at his own hand, but he shook it off quickly, pulling the knife out of his side with a grunt and tossing it away. Blood stained his tunic in an ever-growing blotch, but he kept his focus, catching the fist thrown at him next and sidestepping, taking out his assailant's balance with a well-placed blow to the back of the knee.
âStellulam? They aren't listening." There was a sort of tight control in his voice, a sure indication that he was feeling more pain than he allowed himself to express.
She knew they weren't, and she was having trouble figuring out what to do about it. âDon'tâdon't kill anyone, justâ" That much was likely extremely obvious to all of them anyway, but before she could really even think about anything else, she was fighting off another.
The person who'd stepped in this time moved faster than the rest by quite a lot. Of middling height, their gender was just as uncertain as that of the rest of their compatriots. Their face was fully-covered by a featureless white mask, the only gaps in it two holes for the eyes and a thin slit by way of a mouth. The hood secured around their head with a band was black, as was the rest of their loose clothing, occasionally supplemented in places with armor. The knife in their left hand moved unerringly for Estella, forcing her to take a large jump backwards, then raise a hand to block the quick kick that came for her as soon as she was out of stabbing range.
âPlease, stop. I'm really not going toâ" She turned aside another blow, her jaw clicking shut as she was forced to abandon her efforts to talk in favor of efforts to keep herself alive. She knew she had a much better chance if she drew her blade here, but that would be an act of hostility directly against the point she was trying to get across here. Hand-to-hand was not her strength, but maybe...
Rilien had not put his knives away, but he also was not deploying them lethallyânot at the moment. Of course, it was hard to say that it would remain so if he sensed a need to speed things up for her sake. As it was, he was quite suited to exactly this kind of fight, and the armed agents did not seem to pose him much in terms of problems; he was faster and stronger both than the would-be assassins who tried to kill him, but knocking them out was a slower process than killing them instead.
Cyrus, with a major knife wound still freely-bleeding in his side, wasn't finding it quite so easy. He seemed at times to be fighting his own instinct as well as his foes; there were sometimes awkward pauses in his motions, in exactly the same places he would have cast spells before. They weren't enough to earn him any devastating wounds like before, but he was picking up his fair share of injuries trying to fend off his attackers with his hands and nothing else. He managed to elbow one into a wall just in time to bend away from another attempted stabbing, but he was unprepared for the sweep that knocked his legs out from under him, and landed hard on his back.
From behind the one that tripped Cyrus, a powerful hand closed around the attacker's shoulder, yanking them forcefully away and into a brutally strong punch that knocked the mask clean off. There was no time to see the person's face, as they collapsed in a heap on the ground, hood concealing their features. Vesryn obviously didn't prefer hand to hand, but he or at least Saraya seemed more than practiced enough in it, dispatching one assailant after another with an efficient, heavy style, rarely requiring more than one or two blows to incapacitate their smaller and lighter enemies. His raw speed wasn't a match, but in terms of quickness and hand-eye coordination he seemed to be above their level.
He wrapped around behind one, one of the few remaining attackers in the ambush, wrapping his arms around their neck in a sleeper hold. The elf grabbed for the arrow in his shoulder, but if it pained Vesryn a great deal, he didn't let it show, quickly restraining the arm and sinking down towards the ground. "Stop struggling," he urged, tightening his grip. "I'm not going to hurt you any more than I have to." Eventually, the choice to stop struggling was no longer a choice, and the attacker's body went slack.
It was fairly clear to Estella by this point that the one she was contending with had to be the leader of this group. Remembering what Seril had said, she ducked a slash and strafed to the side. âQ? You're Q, aren't you? Please, we're really not here to harm youâah!" The knife sliced through her shirt at the forearm, opening a bloody gash there to match the one on the same tricep, from the arrow.
There was a scoff, barely audible, but very clearly a noise of at least mild disgust or frustration. It was hard to say why, but at this point it didn't really matter. Estella had to do something, or the next one might not miss. She couldn't draw her swordâeven if she'd changed her mind about wanting to, it would take precious seconds she no longer had. And she hadn't really changed her mind anyway. She didn't want to risk using the mark here, either; these buildings weren't stable-looking, the mark wasn't stable as a rule, and there was still a pretty good chance something would go wrong.
For once, though... she had a viable third option. Taking a deep breath, she reached inside herself for the magic, feeling it hum to life under her skin. She didn't try to force it out into the world beyond her body though, instead letting it settle against her bones and muscles and skin, warm and reassuring, almost like being embraced, or protected by something steady and sure.
She saw the figure's body contract, and knew they were about to stab. She reacted almost before she had the thoughtâor more like the time between her thought and the motion of her body was just... shorter. Much shorter. It was still a little awkward; she accidentally cut part of her hand on the knife as she reached forward, but her fingers did close around Q's wrist.
The person beneath the mask reacted with surprise, trying to pull away, but Estella's grip was tightâtighter than she would have thought. It gave her enough leverage to pull the person forward, wrap her arms around them, and take them both to the ground.
It was a struggle once they got there: Q kicked, bucked, and continued to try and stab her, but she managed to pin their wrist to the ground first, planting a knee against their sternum and her other on their hip. âStop! I won'tâ" she cut herself off, eyes widening. She could see deeper into the mask now, enough to make out the person's eyes. That color... she knew that color. Tinged with just a tiny bit of yellow.
âNo," she breathed, but her free hand was already reaching up, pulling loose the band holding Q's hood to their head. It fell away, dark brown hair spilling from the cloth; with a quick motion, Estella pulled the mask free as well.
It couldn't be. But it was.
â...Kess?"
Her lips pulled back from her teeth in an almost-snarl, twisting her face until it was far angrier than Estella had ever seen it. "Let me go." She hissed the words as much as she spoke them, still struggling beneath Estella's magically-enhanced grip. "If you don't intend to hurt me, stop trying to break my wrist, shem."
The word hit Estella probably harder than the knife had. She loosened her grip immediately and stood, taking a step backwards. âI'm sorry, I didn't mean toâ" She swallowed. Maybe trying magic she barely knew wasn't the best idea, but... âKess, you're Q? But... But Julien, and the frame-up? Was that...?" They'd all been friends. Shared meals, and living space, and laughter and stupid conversations far too late at night on the roof of Julien's estate.
She was sure that for once, her emotions were scrawled openly across her face. She couldn't have hidden her shock or dismay even if she'd been inclined to. âWhy are you here? Why did you attack us?" She hated how small she sounded. How pathetic.
Kestrel pulled herself to her feet, rubbing at her wrist with her other hand. Her knife had found its way back into a sheath at the base of her spine, but she regarded them warily. Perhaps more so because of her unconscious comrades, still strewn about the makeshift battlefield. For a moment, something akin to regret or pity crossed her face, but she banished it just as quickly. "You weren't supposed to get this far." She shook her head, disturbing her loose hair. "You were supposed to look into this, find nothing interesting, and go back to Skyhold where you belong."
She grimaced; Rilien had circled behind her at some point, and she'd clearly just noticed the fact that her most likely escape route was cut off. "Kill me if you must, but I'm not telling you anything."
"We're not killing anyone," Vesryn said, his tone more frustrated than anything. He had discarded the elf now unconscious beneath him, stood, and removed the arrow from his shoulder, putting pressure on the wound. "Are we not all on the same side here?"
"No. We aren't." Kestrel shook her head, tone sharp. "People like you... you think that they can be reasoned with. The nobles. That they can just be made to see the error of their ways if they were only allowed time, or the right intellectual argument, or whatever. They can't. And the time we waste doing that, any time we spend under their boots... that's more chances for one insane woman to decide all of us deserve to die. Mien'harel is the answer. The only one that will protect us, in the end."
Cyrus, having some difficulty getting to his feet, grunted, temporarily drawing Kestrel's attention. âBut of course you're few, and so your revolution must be quiet, yes?" His tone didn't give away much; when he finally was able to stand, he leaned heavily against a wall, hand pressed to the wound in his side.
"Yes." Kestrel apparently didn't count that much in the information she was unwilling to reveal, at least. Perhaps because she suspected they already knew. "An old man dies of natural causes. A mid-level bureaucrat finds herself with a discrepancy in a chevalier's paperwork. Bandits steal weapons. These things all happen. Sometimes, they happen with help. But if the veil is lifted, the help is dead. Do you understand that, I wonder?" She turned her eyes to Estella. "You have a fortress. Before that, you had a barracks. And you've always had your humanity. More protection than any of my people have ever had."
âYou're right," Estella conceded, her voice soft. âI can't possibly understand what it was like, growing up in an Alienage. I can't know the fear they knew, when the soldiers came for them and burned their homes. I don't understand what it feels like to walk around the world in a body that so many people see as lesser." Just for a few physical features, no less. âBut... is it so impossible that I might want to help you anyway? That I might care what happens to you, and people like you? Kestrel... I'm your friend. Julien's your friend. You don't... you and these Cendredoights, you don't have to do this by yourselves. There are people who will listen. People who aren't like Celene or those soldiers."
She swallowed thickly, unsure how much more of a case she could even make for herself. In some ways, the point was moot: there wasn't much Kess could do now one way or another. But Estella had no plans to let anything bad befall her for this, and more than that, she wanted to work out some kind of solution to this. So that no one else had to die for it. Not Kess or Julien or anyone.
Kestrel crossed her arms. "You don't understand. Our invisibility is the only thing protecting us. Even now, the only thing protecting the others is the guarantee that I will not tell you who they are. Even this much... if you want to stop that execution, you're going to have to out us all. And even knowing we exist, even knowing that the Cendredoights are operating. Do you have any idea how much paranoia that's going to cause? How many servants will be turned out onto the street or worse? How many atrocities will be licensed under the guise of weeding out bad ones? One slip, from anyone. That's all it would take. One careless word from Julien, one intercepted letter from you, and the cycle repeats itself."
She could see the reasoning, at least. In a way, that only made this harder. If the frame up and this attack were both just attempts to protect themselves when people got too close to discovering the secret, Estella could see why they would have chosen such methods. âBut... we do know, now," she said, trying to put it kindly and not let it sound like a threat. âYou're right that I want to free Julien, but I don't want to do that by revealing anything about you. Surely there must be some kind of way to get him a better trial without implicating any of your people in this."
Kestrel sighed deeply. "You really mean that, don't you?" Her tone was more sardonic than anything, and a bit weary, as though maintaining her anger was costing her more energy than she really had. "Look. I still think you're wrong. I'm sure I know what you're thinking. You believe that if all the right people are in power, they'll decide to make things better for elves and somehow accomplish it. You think all that needs to happen is for the right body to be sitting on the throne, or in the council, or whatever. But it's not as easy as that, Stel. The thrones and councils are the problem. Because for every beneficent dictator there's a mad tyrant, and as long as our fates are tied to that... we're no better off than we were."
âSurely a beneficent dictator is a decent start though, no?" Cyrus was starting to look rather pale, face damp with sweat. Blood loss, no doubt. Whatever happened here needed to happen reasonably quickly, to be sure. âGives you a bit of time to work in, impending threat of purging and utter tyranny shelved for a good thirty to sixty years?"
She didn't look amused, but then it hadn't really been a joke. "Fine. This has all been going south since that damn letter anyway. We can work something out, but I'm going to need complete silence from all of you and Julien. I was never here, you were never here, and he never looked into a damn thing. If this gets out, I'll know whose fault it is that we all get killed." She grimaced. "Not much consolation."
Estella nodded, feeling herself relax a little bit. âOf course we'll keep it to ourselves. And I'm sure Julien will, too, once he understands what's going on." It was enough resolution at least for her to turn away a bit and get to Cyrus, her rather feeble healing spell at her fingertips. Still... bodies weren't that different, and her increasing familiarity with her own was at least somewhat helpful in patching up others. She could stop his bleeding and scab him over, anyway.
âWhat do you mean, though? About things gong south since the letter? If you can say."
Cyrus exhaled softly, easing a little as she worked. Kestrel, on the other hand, crossed her arms.
"We're not stupid. We know Julien's more use to us alive than deadâonly a few of us wanted to kill him when he got too close. The rest of us just wanted to make sure he never got any closer. Few years in prison would work just fine. In that span of time, he'd be bound to forget about it, or stop caring. And a few key pieces of his evidence might go missing, if we could make it happen, just in case."
âYou only framed him for embezzlement, not sedition." Rilien delivered his guess neutrally. It was actually hard to say if it was a guess. He might have been quite certain by this point.
Kestrel nodded. âYes. Our agent closest to him was put in charge of that. But when the opportunity arose, the damn duchess didn't just find the evidence we arranged for her, she added to it. We couldn't have fixed that without drawing suspicion, and the trial was so fast we didn't have any other options but to let it happen."
"Agent closest to him?" Vesryn repeated. He shook his head slightly and lowered his gaze, obviously knowing who was being referred to there, but refrained from saying the name out loud, perhaps out of respect for the group's valued privacy.
Estella had the same instinct. Frankly, she wasn't sure what to make of all of this. Gauvain was another friend, and she couldn't believe that the care he had for Julien was anything but genuine. It occurred to her that what she might be offering to protect here risked hurting more of her friends in the future. They'd killed one man, however much he might have deserved it. If things had been left as they were, Julien would have died, too, innocent of the crimes he'd been convicted of and apparently not enough of a concern to at least the Cendredoights as a whole that they'd risk anything to rectify the mistake.
If they all even saw it as a mistake.
What happened if, in the future, they elected to hurt more of the people she cared about? What if it were Sabino or Lady Costanza that was inconvenient to their purposes? What if it were Commander Lucien? She wasn't sure what to make of the implications. What if others in the group disagreed with Kestrel's decision here and tried to have her friends silenced for knowing too much? Rilien and Ves and Cy? They were all strong, to be sure, but agents like this worked in the dark, and everyone slept. Even Saraya, now.
What was she supposed to tell Julien? It seemed like he had a right to know what Gauvain had doneâintentionally or not, it had very nearly killed him. But clearly, the guilt for that was tearing at the steward as well. She didn't want to make things worse. She hated having this much power over what happened to other people... and at the same time, she was learning to hate not having more of it. Not being able to see what lay at the end of all the threads. What the best decision was.
âKess, do you..." She paused, awkward and uncomfortable, taking her hand away from Cyrus's side and making eye contact with the other woman. âWas it real?" She wasn't even sure what relevance the question really had to the others swirling around in her head, but it was somehow the one that burned at her the most, selfish as that must be.
Kestrel broke the eye contact first, hers hitting the ground underneath their feet. "More than I wanted it to be." Her tone softened slightly, but then she expelled a sharp breath. "But less than you thought." Her lips pursed, features hardening. "We've taken most of the weapons, but you can have the crates and what's left. You'll have to lie about where you found it, of course, but as long as it wasn't anything to do with Julien, that should be enough." With the new evidence about the letter, it would almost certainly get him released.
"You say you want to help us, Stel. Thisâall of thisâis your chance to prove it. We'll be watching."
âI understand," she said quietly. It shouldn't be too hard to come up with some kind of story about the shipment. Lying to a court wasn't exactly a fantastic idea, but compared to either of the alternatives, it was easy to choose. It was the long-term implications of this decision she was most worried about.
She hoped she wasn't choosing wrongly, but she just couldn't see any better option than to hope that, if she took this chance and did prove the truth of her own words, then... enough people would believe her that maybe there would be some chance for the future. But she'd been wrong before, and she wasn't certain enough to rely on her judgement alone. âBut I'm not the only one here. I can'tâI won't speak for everyone, and I won't deceive you about that."
âYou are not required to prove anything to anyone." Rilien sheathed his knife, but he didn't take his eyes off Kestrel, despite the fact that he was speaking to Estella. âThey tried to kill you. It is not your obligation to pacify them, however worthwhile you find their cause. If this is what you wish to do, then do it. But no undue burden lies on you here. They have taken their own risks, and must accept the consequences of their own actions." He folded his hands into his sleeves. Apparently, he was willing to defer to her judgement in the matter.
Cyrus, still looking a bit pale, lifted his shoulders. âFor the record, I'm none too fond of being stabbed. But if Kestrel here is willing to hand over the shipment and place that much trust in us not to out her entire organization, well... the risk of future harm is probably a better bet than guaranteed future harm." He made a face. âYou've always been better at this than me, Stellulam. Whatever you think is right, I'll do. But I'm inclined to help them."
"The way I see it," Vesryn said, still keeping pressure on his shoulder. "We're not the only ones with an opportunity to prove something." He looked for Kestrel's eyes. "Don't make Celene right. Defend our people if you have to, but consider if it's worth any cost. I know nothing is ever that simple. And I know nothing of what you've suffered, but... take it for what you will." He shrugged, perhaps not fully satisfied with his own words, or maybe just pained a bit now that the fight was over.
He looked to Estella. "For the people they're protecting here, I think we should keep their secret. But they're not the only ones who can keep a watch."
Estella pulled in a breath and then released it, nodding slightly. They were right. All of them, in their respective ways. This was a risk, she didn't have to do it, and... it was the right thing to do anyway. For the people the Cendredoights were protecting. âAll right," she said. âTake us to the shipment. We'll do the rest."
Hopefully, she wouldn't regret it.