In an instant Rom went from uncomfortably out of his element to being absolutely enveloped in it.
He didn't bother creeping around and staying low like he would in a forest or obviously dressed as an enemy, sneaking through an occupied fortress. The servants weren't really to be feared, and if they were spotted, Rom doubted they'd even do anything about it. Syl and Pol probably passed the word around that there were friendlies dressed up like wealthy nobles coming through their quarters. Friendly enough, anyway. All the same, it was best for them to stay out of sight as best they could. Safer for everyone that way.
They moved slow, staying quiet, with masks remaining on. At each corner he stopped and listened for a moment before signaling when to move. Sometimes he made Leon and Zee stay put while he went a short distance ahead, to silently scout before gesturing for them to follow. More than one door into kitchen or supply areas had to simply be darted past swiftly and quietly while someone inside had their back turned. They were on the clock, with not even an hour available to them before they needed to get back to the ballroom.
So they could dance. Rom groaned inwardly at the thought. He wasn't bad at it by any means, any sort of physical work came pretty easy to him, but still. It was a mess of trading partners and empty socialization all while remembering to move his feet this way and that, and he was not really looking forward to it.
The sight of the gardens was enough to remove it from his mind, however. It put Skyhold's modest garden area to utter shame, and Rom could only see a section of it when they first exited the building. The crisp and cool night air greeted them again, refreshing after the relative heat of the kitchens wafting out into the hallways. The walls of the Winter Palace towered around the gardens on all sides, but the grass beneath their feet was soft, evenly cut and green as any lawn in Minrathous Rom had ever seen. There were rows and rows of flowers and other plants, cobblestone walkways winding their way through them and out of sight. He could identify quite a few of the ones useful in alchemy, even noting a few rare ingredients that would prove useful. But there was no time for that now, and they weren't supposed to leave any trace of their being here if they could help it.
"I didn't expect it to be this big," he admitted, watching warily for any sign of trouble. He glanced back at the Commander. "Which way do you think?"
Leon swept his eyes over the landscaping around them, the subtle frown he wore evidence that he wasn't completely sure, but was trying to decide what he found more likely. "Normal visitors would head towards the center," he said at last. "If they were absconding here for, ah, clandestine affairs of a different sort." He tilted his chin in the opposite direction. "So... spies and hidden agents to the left, I'd think."
"Alright," Rom nodded, starting forward. "Keep it slow and quiet. Harder to hear people out here." It was quiet of course, given the overall tranquility of the garden, but there was still a wind rustling through the leaves of the trees that sporadically sheltered them from the sky, and the soft grassy surface beneath their feet was a lot easier to walk quietly on than hard stone floors. He doubted his advice was entirely necessary for either of his companions, but it didn't hurt to give it.
They took the path to their left, moving slow and pausing often to listen, but for the most part they seemed to be entirely alone. There were footsteps in the impressionable areas of dirt near the pathways, but there was no telling who they were and how long they'd been there for. Rom wasn't the best at outdoor tracking, but he was serviceable. He'd need a more obvious sign of recent activity to go off of.
They passed a tall hedge maze on their left before he got one, and thankfully it didn't lead inside. "Blood here," he pointed out, lowering himself down into a crouch to inspect it. The dark fluid stained blades of grass. A significant amount of it, too, impossible to clean up by anyone that wanted to conceal it. "Signs of a struggle, too." The ground had been impacted more deeply in places where a boot had dug in for purchase, or someone's weight had been rapidly shifted in an effort to move quickly. "This way."
They followed the blood trail over to a thick patch of bushes near the wall. The smell of blood grew thicker on the air as they approached. Rom pushed his way through the waist-high plants, eyes pointed down. There, on her back in the bark mulch, was a young elven woman, probably still in her early twenties, with short, dark hair. "One of the servants," Rom said quietly. "She's dead, around two hours ago." He'd seen more than enough bodies, and studied them extensively, to make a close guess of the exact time.
Crouching down, he examined the body. "It wasn't clean, either." He pointed to a few spots on her side, where her shirt was bloodiest. "Multiple stab wounds. Slash to the back of her leg, very deep. No, not a slash. Probably done with an axe." He grimaced, the nature of her death becoming quite clear. "Broken bones in the arms, ribs. And..." Her clothes were torn at, a few of the seams near the waist ripped as well as at the shoulders. Clearly not by weapons but by hands. And the way the dirt where she lay was somewhat scattered in places, packed down in others...
"Whoever killed her had their way with her first. Likely a much larger person, judging by the nonlethal injuries, maybe multiple people."
Zahra had crouched down alongside the corpse as well. On the other side, though sheâd drawn her dress away from the pool of blood and knelt down on one knee. Her lips pulled back in a scowl at Româs observation. Expression stony. Just like most of the other in the Inquisition⊠stumbling upon a corpse didnât particularly bother her. The implications, however, seemed to make her sour. Not enough to clench her hands into fists. But enough to rankle her nerves. Easy enough to tell by her change of demeanor; squared shoulders and an unyielding jaw. Raiders mustâve seen or done enough of thatâherself included. It didnât mean she approved.
A muscle jumped along her jawline as she used her knee for leverage and straightened back up again. âSuch excessive force,â her tone was bitter as she regarded the elven body laying out before them, âIâve seen work like this before. But not in such a fancy place.â She rubbed at her chin and glanced around the hedge-line of the garden. Probably checking that they werenât being followed. Or watched from the shadows. âTwo hours? Seems like weâre on the right trail, at least.â A sigh slipped past her lips, âI hope the others fared better than she did.â
"Only one way to find out," Leon added, his eyes falling once more to the dead woman. If Zee had grown stony in response to the circumstances, his whole countenance had softened. He shook himself slightly. "If we're looking for multiple people, it's probably something other than palace guards abusing their authority. I think there's a sculpture garden this way; seems likely to be our best shot at finding a relatively stationary group. I'll watch the rear as we go." He'd likely been doing something similar already, but the more explicit information was important now that they knew someone or something out here was willing to kill people.
There wasn't much they could do for the body, sadly. It was probably best that they move on, now that they knew what had happened to her. Of course, that left the other two servants that had also disappeared, and if the first was any indication, they likely had met similar ends. Still, there was a chance they could be alive in here somewhere. Of equal or greater value, no doubt, would be the person or group that had killed this one. It didn't strike Rom as the work of any Orlesian noble party-goer at all, though they were known to show a great amount of cruelty towards the elves.
But it was as Leon said: they could only find out by moving on. Rom led the way again, his hand never far from the small weapon concealed in his half cloak. Along the way he pulled a small vial from a pouch on his belt, downing the potion in one quick gulp. In an instant any tiredness he felt from the party was gone. His hearing sharpened, his eyes reached an ever greater clarity, and he felt an urge to move faster. He suppressed it, knowing stealth was still key here.
The sculpture garden treated them to a number of marble statues elevated on pedestals on either side of the path, depicting what were no doubt famous figures of Orlesian history, great Emperors and Empresses, chevaliers and the leaders of their armies. Of more interest to Rom was the hedge maze just on the other side of the nearest group of statues. A lone man was slowly wandering out of the exit, buttoning up the front of his jerkin, a garment sorely out of place compared to the rest of the guests. He was scruffy, armed with a sword and wooden round shield. He didn't even look Orlesian.
When at last he looked up and laid eyes on the quietly approaching Rom, Leon, and Zahra, he froze, going wide-eyed for a moment. Then he turned and bolted into the maze, disappearing around a corner.
It was about then that stealth became much less of a priority, and they reacted accordingly. Leon in particular took no more than half a second to register what they'd just seen and lunged into a sprint, taking the same corner hard enough to tear a furrow in the grass under their feet with his boot in a hard redirection of his momentum.
The fleeing man had a considerable head start, but they were gaining on him quite rapidly. He was not running so quietly that they couldn't hear him, making tracking his progress through the maze easier than it would have otherwise been. Leon caught up to him probably halfway to the center of the maze, reaching out to grab the back of the man's jerkin and yank backwards, his own momentum carrying him past where the soldier fell.
He did so with a shout, which was surely enough to alert anyone he was with if they hadn't been heard already. Leon glanced around the next corner, exhaling a frustrated breath. "Knock him out. If the others are armed, we might not be able to capture them." The strategy was obvious: they wanted at least one person alive to tell them what was going on here, and it wouldn't be as easy to guarantee that once this became a melee.
With a tsking sound, Leon rounded the corner, taking him to the next layer in on the maze, a thick hedge wall between himself and them. From the sounds of it, he met more soldiers there; there was a heavy impact sound and then a crash and snapping of branchesâhe'd probably just sent someone through a hedge on the other side.
A thrashing sound of leaves sounded somewhere behind Leon. Something like someone bodily crashing into the underbrush. Trouncing through the maze with a dress proved a much more trying experience for Zahra. She appeared shortly after Rom, huffing and swearing obscenities not quite under her breath. Once sheâd regained some measure of control over her breathing and smoothed out the ruffles of her dress, she was on the fallen man in a heartbeat. A flutter of dark purple flapped as the ruffles settled back down to her sides.
Even without her bow, he didnât seem to have a chance. Leonâs surprise yank had knocked the sense out of him. Certainly long enough for her to act on his sensible command. She hadnât pulled out her blade either. Not that it would do much good in this situation unless slitting his throat was in order. It was not. Instead she opted to swing her leg over the man and jerk him up by the collar, yanking her fist out wide behind her ear and slamming it into the side of his head. She pulled it back and slammed her fist down once more, for good measure.
To ensure he was unconscious. Probably. Zahra stepped away from the manâs listless body and rolled him over with the heel of her bootâthough it did not take her long to abandon him and lurch further into the hedge maze, in the direction Leon had disappeared into.
Rom was ahead of her, having only looked back long enough to ensure that Zahra had things in hand before he charged after Leon. Rounding the corner, they came to a central area in the hedge maze, which seemed to be where the last man's friends had gathered. They were mercenaries by the looks of them, and not the well-groomed and prestigious bunch that Lucien commanded, either. In the center of the area was a stone fountain, elaborately decorated with the theme of lion heads spewing the water. Tied up to the base of this fountain and subsequently soaked by this point were a pair of elves, presumably the other two that they were looking for. These two seemed to be very much alive still.
The mercenaries took their appearance as a cue to attack, however, and they were numerous, at least ten that Rom could see, with probably more of them lurking in parts of the maze just out of sight. Rom groaned inwardly, removing his half cloak and throwing it in the face of the first man to charge him. He was armed with a short sword of sturdy make, and the blind lunge missed Rom by a good foot, allowing him to snatch the arm, break it, and wrench the blade free for his own use. There was a pounding in his ears calling for blood, spurred on by the knowledge that this group was more than likely responsible for what had happened to the young woman from before.
He slashed the man's leg, chopping him down to a knee, then ripped the cloak free from his head just before he slashed again, opening the throat. They didn't need to keep them all alive.
Leon was already in the thick of it with another trio of mercenaries, though his fighting lacked the fearsome rage it occasionally displayed. He seemed to be cautious, in some way, maneuvering himself so as to avoid attacks he would have shrugged off without care in ordinary circumstances. Part of that was certainly the lack of armor, but it seemed to be even beyond that. He struck with a precision that was almost surgical, felling the first man with a doublehanded blow to his ears and then a kick to his chest hard enough to audibly crunch against his ribcage. He dropped and did not rise.
The second swung at the commander with a two-handed axe. Leon ducked, letting it pass over his head, then slammed the heel of his hand into the woman's jaw on the way up, snapping her head back. A sweep of his foot took her legs out from underneath her, and he neatly strafed half a step to the side to position himself behind the third, gripping both sides of the mercenary's head and wrenching to the sideâanother bloodless death.
âFuckinâ hell.â
Another unenthusiastic groan resonated from central area Rom had just exited. Quicker than sheâd been before. Zahraâs breath was measured this time. A vial dropped from her hand and bounced down the slope of her dress into the grass. A leather-vested man gawped crooked, dirty teeth at her. Leering with as ugly as a smile could be when missing half their teeth. Perhaps thinking her a weak woman among a pair of capable attendants. As soon as mercenary approached from the left, she quickly hunched down in order to retrieve something from her left boot. A knife. It appeared as if she was not quick enough.
The man grabbed onto her shoulder and attempted to push her backwards, sword-arm rearing up at his side. Though it was clear he meant to intimidate and frighten rather than run her through with his blade. She dropped to her knee and leaned into the pushing hand long enough to make him screamâsinging the blade free from her hidden scabbard and driving it up into his groin. Somehow, sheâd managed to push him backwards and roll away with blade in hand. Grass flew from her boots as she dug them into the ground back for purchase, pushing into the dirt and towards another incoming mercenary.
This time, she ducked beneath an oncoming blade and utilized her momentum to slice at the womanâs shoulder blades. Another swing came much closer. Inches from her face. Perhaps she wouldnât have been so lucky if she hadnât tripped over her skirts. Her movements were clumsier with the dress on but it appeared to be working in her favor. The woman lurched forward with a grunt and attempted to thrust her blade through her belly. A quick side-step avoided a quick death; Zahraâs arm shot out to catch the woman by the neck as she passed by her, dragging her to the ground. Something she might have seen Khari do before. Her gurgling breaths were soon silence.
For the most part, Rom had forgotten about the mission and his purpose for being out here in the gardens. There were people to kill, and killing was what he was best at. The drive for it coursed through his veins as he pushed another man back into a hedge row, bringing both hands up to his throat. The one carrying the short sword he drew rapidly sideways, cutting a deep slice across the throat and spattering his mask and face with blood. He let him sink to the ground.
A battle cry from behind him alerted him to a woman's charge. He turned just in time to deflect a downward mace strike to the side, responding to the opening by landing a pair of slashes across her leg and arm. Rom leaned back swiftly, letting the mace whoosh past his face, and then he was on the attack again, striking and advancing and landing hit after hit, driving her back towards the center. Her weapon arm came in reach; he snatched it with his marked hand. Without thinking a burst of energy obliterated everything below her forearm. She howled for a moment, one where Rom was just as surprised as she was, and then he drove his sword into her belly, turning the scream into a choked cough.
He drove her back until her back hit the fountain. Within seconds she was losing her grip on life, and he let her slide down onto her rear in the water, short sword still pierced through her. Her head lolled over nearly onto the shoulder of one of the tied-up elves. Rom simply stood there for a moment, hearing no further sounds of battle. He blinked, and then took a few staggering steps backwards, sinking to a knee and pulling off his mask. He grabbed a fallen cloak from one of the mercenaries, using it to wipe the blood from the mask. He then brought the fabric up to his face, scrubbing there as well.
With the mercenaries all down, Leon immediately turned his attention to the hostages. Stepping into the fountain only brought the water about halfway up his calves, which was probably for the best. He shoved the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, reaching forward through the flow of water to carefully untie one of them. The woman fell forward, but the commander caught her with ease, shifting her so that one of his arms was beneath her knees and the other braced her back, sloshing back over to the edge of the marble water feature. She was clearly unconscious, head lolling back, and she bore bruises and abrasions, including a black eye.
"Romulus." He waited expectantly until Rom moved to take the woman from him, then went back for the other, a young man in similar condition. "Zahra, can you strip a few cloaks off the mercenaries? It's the middle of winterâI'm worried about hypothermia." Not for himself, obviously, but it was a fair point about the servants. With the second still held carefully, Leon stepped back over the lip of the fountain, settling him into the first of the cloaks Zee provided and checking the pulse at his neck.
"Alive," he pronounced. "I'll be right back with our prisoner." So saying, he disappeared back into the hedge maze, returning about a minute later with the still-out mercenary. His handling of that one was much less gentle, and Leon didn't show any hesitation before dumping him unceremoniously in the frigid water of the fountain with a loud splash, allowing him to remain there until he came up coughing and sputtering, at which point the commander gripped him by the front of his jerkin and hauled him back out again.
"Good." He didn't sound particularly pleased. "You're awake."
The mercenary coughed, spitting up water he seemed to have inhaled, but Leon's grip on him did not err, and he seemed to be smart enough to understand that fighting it was useless. Blearily, he blinked at the much-larger Seeker, his legs swinging ineffectually in the air. "Whaâ"
The commander's head tilted slightly to the side. "Your accent is Fereldan." His own seemed to be a little more prominent than usual at the moment as well, the guttural rasp of the Ander enunciation roughening his voice. "What are Fereldans doing here? Who hired you, and why?"
The man looked reluctant to answer, but one sharp jerk from Leon was enough to change his mind. Though he was usually perhaps the mildest of men, it was clear enough at the moment that the Seekers had not neglected to train him in how to utilize his dimensions for intimidation. "G-Gaspard," the mercenary said, the word escaping as more yelp than anything. "Gaspard did. We're supposed to wait here, for his signal. K-kill anyone who found out too soon."
"Why? What does he intend you to do?"
"N-nothing! Not if his plan goes well, I mean. Supposed to talk to some people, get them to make him Kingâer, Emperor. If that doesn't work, we're supposed to help the guards and chevaliers he bought menace the nobles a little, that's all. Rattle the sabers, you know?" It was unlikely the mercenary's pitch was that high usually, but some combination of panic and chill was elevating it.
"And if they are not cowed?"
"I-I dunno. Kill 'em, maybe? Whatever he wants!"
Leon's eyes narrowed, but he didn't seem to doubt the veracity of the information. Slowly, he set the man down on his feet, but his heavily-scarred fist remained clenched in the jerkin, holding him in place. Honestly it just made the near-foot in height discrepancy that much more obvious. "Vela. Was that you?"
"Wh-who?"
Leon's hand tightened; the mercenary tried and failed to take a step back. "The elven girl someone killed and tried to hide in the bushes."
The man shook his head jerkily. "No, ser. Only elves I ever saw tonight were those two. Mighta been one of the others, but, uhâ" he glanced at a couple of the nearby corpses. "Don't reckon they'll be able to tell you."
There was a long pause. Leon's breath slowed until it reached ordinary, pre-exertion levels. He was still scowling, still glaring into the mercenary's face like he was watching for even the slightest twitch, but his posture eased just slightly. "You're going to tell the court exactly what you just told me, and you're going to do it not a moment before or a moment after we instruct you to. Do you understand?"
With a series of quick, almost compulsive nods, the mercenary agreed. Leon expelled a heavy breath, then took a step back, releasing the man from his grip. Wisely, he did not attempt an escape.
"We should get the other two back to their friends. Dry clothes and the kitchen's heat will do more for them than we can out here."
Rom blinked a few times. In truth, he was lucky to have caught most of what the mercenary had said, but he understood that it was quite valuable ammunition to have against Gaspard. He wished he hadn't used the potion, but he hadn't been willing to take any chances, not when he was mostly unarmed and unarmored and near-perfection was required in the fight. Still... it was a good thing his clothes were dark, and could be partly hidden under his cloak.
Nodding silently to Leon, he moved to help the servants, and they started on their way back.
He didn't bother creeping around and staying low like he would in a forest or obviously dressed as an enemy, sneaking through an occupied fortress. The servants weren't really to be feared, and if they were spotted, Rom doubted they'd even do anything about it. Syl and Pol probably passed the word around that there were friendlies dressed up like wealthy nobles coming through their quarters. Friendly enough, anyway. All the same, it was best for them to stay out of sight as best they could. Safer for everyone that way.
They moved slow, staying quiet, with masks remaining on. At each corner he stopped and listened for a moment before signaling when to move. Sometimes he made Leon and Zee stay put while he went a short distance ahead, to silently scout before gesturing for them to follow. More than one door into kitchen or supply areas had to simply be darted past swiftly and quietly while someone inside had their back turned. They were on the clock, with not even an hour available to them before they needed to get back to the ballroom.
So they could dance. Rom groaned inwardly at the thought. He wasn't bad at it by any means, any sort of physical work came pretty easy to him, but still. It was a mess of trading partners and empty socialization all while remembering to move his feet this way and that, and he was not really looking forward to it.
The sight of the gardens was enough to remove it from his mind, however. It put Skyhold's modest garden area to utter shame, and Rom could only see a section of it when they first exited the building. The crisp and cool night air greeted them again, refreshing after the relative heat of the kitchens wafting out into the hallways. The walls of the Winter Palace towered around the gardens on all sides, but the grass beneath their feet was soft, evenly cut and green as any lawn in Minrathous Rom had ever seen. There were rows and rows of flowers and other plants, cobblestone walkways winding their way through them and out of sight. He could identify quite a few of the ones useful in alchemy, even noting a few rare ingredients that would prove useful. But there was no time for that now, and they weren't supposed to leave any trace of their being here if they could help it.
"I didn't expect it to be this big," he admitted, watching warily for any sign of trouble. He glanced back at the Commander. "Which way do you think?"
Leon swept his eyes over the landscaping around them, the subtle frown he wore evidence that he wasn't completely sure, but was trying to decide what he found more likely. "Normal visitors would head towards the center," he said at last. "If they were absconding here for, ah, clandestine affairs of a different sort." He tilted his chin in the opposite direction. "So... spies and hidden agents to the left, I'd think."
"Alright," Rom nodded, starting forward. "Keep it slow and quiet. Harder to hear people out here." It was quiet of course, given the overall tranquility of the garden, but there was still a wind rustling through the leaves of the trees that sporadically sheltered them from the sky, and the soft grassy surface beneath their feet was a lot easier to walk quietly on than hard stone floors. He doubted his advice was entirely necessary for either of his companions, but it didn't hurt to give it.
They took the path to their left, moving slow and pausing often to listen, but for the most part they seemed to be entirely alone. There were footsteps in the impressionable areas of dirt near the pathways, but there was no telling who they were and how long they'd been there for. Rom wasn't the best at outdoor tracking, but he was serviceable. He'd need a more obvious sign of recent activity to go off of.
They passed a tall hedge maze on their left before he got one, and thankfully it didn't lead inside. "Blood here," he pointed out, lowering himself down into a crouch to inspect it. The dark fluid stained blades of grass. A significant amount of it, too, impossible to clean up by anyone that wanted to conceal it. "Signs of a struggle, too." The ground had been impacted more deeply in places where a boot had dug in for purchase, or someone's weight had been rapidly shifted in an effort to move quickly. "This way."
They followed the blood trail over to a thick patch of bushes near the wall. The smell of blood grew thicker on the air as they approached. Rom pushed his way through the waist-high plants, eyes pointed down. There, on her back in the bark mulch, was a young elven woman, probably still in her early twenties, with short, dark hair. "One of the servants," Rom said quietly. "She's dead, around two hours ago." He'd seen more than enough bodies, and studied them extensively, to make a close guess of the exact time.
Crouching down, he examined the body. "It wasn't clean, either." He pointed to a few spots on her side, where her shirt was bloodiest. "Multiple stab wounds. Slash to the back of her leg, very deep. No, not a slash. Probably done with an axe." He grimaced, the nature of her death becoming quite clear. "Broken bones in the arms, ribs. And..." Her clothes were torn at, a few of the seams near the waist ripped as well as at the shoulders. Clearly not by weapons but by hands. And the way the dirt where she lay was somewhat scattered in places, packed down in others...
"Whoever killed her had their way with her first. Likely a much larger person, judging by the nonlethal injuries, maybe multiple people."
Zahra had crouched down alongside the corpse as well. On the other side, though sheâd drawn her dress away from the pool of blood and knelt down on one knee. Her lips pulled back in a scowl at Româs observation. Expression stony. Just like most of the other in the Inquisition⊠stumbling upon a corpse didnât particularly bother her. The implications, however, seemed to make her sour. Not enough to clench her hands into fists. But enough to rankle her nerves. Easy enough to tell by her change of demeanor; squared shoulders and an unyielding jaw. Raiders mustâve seen or done enough of thatâherself included. It didnât mean she approved.
A muscle jumped along her jawline as she used her knee for leverage and straightened back up again. âSuch excessive force,â her tone was bitter as she regarded the elven body laying out before them, âIâve seen work like this before. But not in such a fancy place.â She rubbed at her chin and glanced around the hedge-line of the garden. Probably checking that they werenât being followed. Or watched from the shadows. âTwo hours? Seems like weâre on the right trail, at least.â A sigh slipped past her lips, âI hope the others fared better than she did.â
"Only one way to find out," Leon added, his eyes falling once more to the dead woman. If Zee had grown stony in response to the circumstances, his whole countenance had softened. He shook himself slightly. "If we're looking for multiple people, it's probably something other than palace guards abusing their authority. I think there's a sculpture garden this way; seems likely to be our best shot at finding a relatively stationary group. I'll watch the rear as we go." He'd likely been doing something similar already, but the more explicit information was important now that they knew someone or something out here was willing to kill people.
There wasn't much they could do for the body, sadly. It was probably best that they move on, now that they knew what had happened to her. Of course, that left the other two servants that had also disappeared, and if the first was any indication, they likely had met similar ends. Still, there was a chance they could be alive in here somewhere. Of equal or greater value, no doubt, would be the person or group that had killed this one. It didn't strike Rom as the work of any Orlesian noble party-goer at all, though they were known to show a great amount of cruelty towards the elves.
But it was as Leon said: they could only find out by moving on. Rom led the way again, his hand never far from the small weapon concealed in his half cloak. Along the way he pulled a small vial from a pouch on his belt, downing the potion in one quick gulp. In an instant any tiredness he felt from the party was gone. His hearing sharpened, his eyes reached an ever greater clarity, and he felt an urge to move faster. He suppressed it, knowing stealth was still key here.
The sculpture garden treated them to a number of marble statues elevated on pedestals on either side of the path, depicting what were no doubt famous figures of Orlesian history, great Emperors and Empresses, chevaliers and the leaders of their armies. Of more interest to Rom was the hedge maze just on the other side of the nearest group of statues. A lone man was slowly wandering out of the exit, buttoning up the front of his jerkin, a garment sorely out of place compared to the rest of the guests. He was scruffy, armed with a sword and wooden round shield. He didn't even look Orlesian.
When at last he looked up and laid eyes on the quietly approaching Rom, Leon, and Zahra, he froze, going wide-eyed for a moment. Then he turned and bolted into the maze, disappearing around a corner.
It was about then that stealth became much less of a priority, and they reacted accordingly. Leon in particular took no more than half a second to register what they'd just seen and lunged into a sprint, taking the same corner hard enough to tear a furrow in the grass under their feet with his boot in a hard redirection of his momentum.
The fleeing man had a considerable head start, but they were gaining on him quite rapidly. He was not running so quietly that they couldn't hear him, making tracking his progress through the maze easier than it would have otherwise been. Leon caught up to him probably halfway to the center of the maze, reaching out to grab the back of the man's jerkin and yank backwards, his own momentum carrying him past where the soldier fell.
He did so with a shout, which was surely enough to alert anyone he was with if they hadn't been heard already. Leon glanced around the next corner, exhaling a frustrated breath. "Knock him out. If the others are armed, we might not be able to capture them." The strategy was obvious: they wanted at least one person alive to tell them what was going on here, and it wouldn't be as easy to guarantee that once this became a melee.
With a tsking sound, Leon rounded the corner, taking him to the next layer in on the maze, a thick hedge wall between himself and them. From the sounds of it, he met more soldiers there; there was a heavy impact sound and then a crash and snapping of branchesâhe'd probably just sent someone through a hedge on the other side.
A thrashing sound of leaves sounded somewhere behind Leon. Something like someone bodily crashing into the underbrush. Trouncing through the maze with a dress proved a much more trying experience for Zahra. She appeared shortly after Rom, huffing and swearing obscenities not quite under her breath. Once sheâd regained some measure of control over her breathing and smoothed out the ruffles of her dress, she was on the fallen man in a heartbeat. A flutter of dark purple flapped as the ruffles settled back down to her sides.
Even without her bow, he didnât seem to have a chance. Leonâs surprise yank had knocked the sense out of him. Certainly long enough for her to act on his sensible command. She hadnât pulled out her blade either. Not that it would do much good in this situation unless slitting his throat was in order. It was not. Instead she opted to swing her leg over the man and jerk him up by the collar, yanking her fist out wide behind her ear and slamming it into the side of his head. She pulled it back and slammed her fist down once more, for good measure.
To ensure he was unconscious. Probably. Zahra stepped away from the manâs listless body and rolled him over with the heel of her bootâthough it did not take her long to abandon him and lurch further into the hedge maze, in the direction Leon had disappeared into.
Rom was ahead of her, having only looked back long enough to ensure that Zahra had things in hand before he charged after Leon. Rounding the corner, they came to a central area in the hedge maze, which seemed to be where the last man's friends had gathered. They were mercenaries by the looks of them, and not the well-groomed and prestigious bunch that Lucien commanded, either. In the center of the area was a stone fountain, elaborately decorated with the theme of lion heads spewing the water. Tied up to the base of this fountain and subsequently soaked by this point were a pair of elves, presumably the other two that they were looking for. These two seemed to be very much alive still.
The mercenaries took their appearance as a cue to attack, however, and they were numerous, at least ten that Rom could see, with probably more of them lurking in parts of the maze just out of sight. Rom groaned inwardly, removing his half cloak and throwing it in the face of the first man to charge him. He was armed with a short sword of sturdy make, and the blind lunge missed Rom by a good foot, allowing him to snatch the arm, break it, and wrench the blade free for his own use. There was a pounding in his ears calling for blood, spurred on by the knowledge that this group was more than likely responsible for what had happened to the young woman from before.
He slashed the man's leg, chopping him down to a knee, then ripped the cloak free from his head just before he slashed again, opening the throat. They didn't need to keep them all alive.
Leon was already in the thick of it with another trio of mercenaries, though his fighting lacked the fearsome rage it occasionally displayed. He seemed to be cautious, in some way, maneuvering himself so as to avoid attacks he would have shrugged off without care in ordinary circumstances. Part of that was certainly the lack of armor, but it seemed to be even beyond that. He struck with a precision that was almost surgical, felling the first man with a doublehanded blow to his ears and then a kick to his chest hard enough to audibly crunch against his ribcage. He dropped and did not rise.
The second swung at the commander with a two-handed axe. Leon ducked, letting it pass over his head, then slammed the heel of his hand into the woman's jaw on the way up, snapping her head back. A sweep of his foot took her legs out from underneath her, and he neatly strafed half a step to the side to position himself behind the third, gripping both sides of the mercenary's head and wrenching to the sideâanother bloodless death.
âFuckinâ hell.â
Another unenthusiastic groan resonated from central area Rom had just exited. Quicker than sheâd been before. Zahraâs breath was measured this time. A vial dropped from her hand and bounced down the slope of her dress into the grass. A leather-vested man gawped crooked, dirty teeth at her. Leering with as ugly as a smile could be when missing half their teeth. Perhaps thinking her a weak woman among a pair of capable attendants. As soon as mercenary approached from the left, she quickly hunched down in order to retrieve something from her left boot. A knife. It appeared as if she was not quick enough.
The man grabbed onto her shoulder and attempted to push her backwards, sword-arm rearing up at his side. Though it was clear he meant to intimidate and frighten rather than run her through with his blade. She dropped to her knee and leaned into the pushing hand long enough to make him screamâsinging the blade free from her hidden scabbard and driving it up into his groin. Somehow, sheâd managed to push him backwards and roll away with blade in hand. Grass flew from her boots as she dug them into the ground back for purchase, pushing into the dirt and towards another incoming mercenary.
This time, she ducked beneath an oncoming blade and utilized her momentum to slice at the womanâs shoulder blades. Another swing came much closer. Inches from her face. Perhaps she wouldnât have been so lucky if she hadnât tripped over her skirts. Her movements were clumsier with the dress on but it appeared to be working in her favor. The woman lurched forward with a grunt and attempted to thrust her blade through her belly. A quick side-step avoided a quick death; Zahraâs arm shot out to catch the woman by the neck as she passed by her, dragging her to the ground. Something she might have seen Khari do before. Her gurgling breaths were soon silence.
For the most part, Rom had forgotten about the mission and his purpose for being out here in the gardens. There were people to kill, and killing was what he was best at. The drive for it coursed through his veins as he pushed another man back into a hedge row, bringing both hands up to his throat. The one carrying the short sword he drew rapidly sideways, cutting a deep slice across the throat and spattering his mask and face with blood. He let him sink to the ground.
A battle cry from behind him alerted him to a woman's charge. He turned just in time to deflect a downward mace strike to the side, responding to the opening by landing a pair of slashes across her leg and arm. Rom leaned back swiftly, letting the mace whoosh past his face, and then he was on the attack again, striking and advancing and landing hit after hit, driving her back towards the center. Her weapon arm came in reach; he snatched it with his marked hand. Without thinking a burst of energy obliterated everything below her forearm. She howled for a moment, one where Rom was just as surprised as she was, and then he drove his sword into her belly, turning the scream into a choked cough.
He drove her back until her back hit the fountain. Within seconds she was losing her grip on life, and he let her slide down onto her rear in the water, short sword still pierced through her. Her head lolled over nearly onto the shoulder of one of the tied-up elves. Rom simply stood there for a moment, hearing no further sounds of battle. He blinked, and then took a few staggering steps backwards, sinking to a knee and pulling off his mask. He grabbed a fallen cloak from one of the mercenaries, using it to wipe the blood from the mask. He then brought the fabric up to his face, scrubbing there as well.
With the mercenaries all down, Leon immediately turned his attention to the hostages. Stepping into the fountain only brought the water about halfway up his calves, which was probably for the best. He shoved the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, reaching forward through the flow of water to carefully untie one of them. The woman fell forward, but the commander caught her with ease, shifting her so that one of his arms was beneath her knees and the other braced her back, sloshing back over to the edge of the marble water feature. She was clearly unconscious, head lolling back, and she bore bruises and abrasions, including a black eye.
"Romulus." He waited expectantly until Rom moved to take the woman from him, then went back for the other, a young man in similar condition. "Zahra, can you strip a few cloaks off the mercenaries? It's the middle of winterâI'm worried about hypothermia." Not for himself, obviously, but it was a fair point about the servants. With the second still held carefully, Leon stepped back over the lip of the fountain, settling him into the first of the cloaks Zee provided and checking the pulse at his neck.
"Alive," he pronounced. "I'll be right back with our prisoner." So saying, he disappeared back into the hedge maze, returning about a minute later with the still-out mercenary. His handling of that one was much less gentle, and Leon didn't show any hesitation before dumping him unceremoniously in the frigid water of the fountain with a loud splash, allowing him to remain there until he came up coughing and sputtering, at which point the commander gripped him by the front of his jerkin and hauled him back out again.
"Good." He didn't sound particularly pleased. "You're awake."
The mercenary coughed, spitting up water he seemed to have inhaled, but Leon's grip on him did not err, and he seemed to be smart enough to understand that fighting it was useless. Blearily, he blinked at the much-larger Seeker, his legs swinging ineffectually in the air. "Whaâ"
The commander's head tilted slightly to the side. "Your accent is Fereldan." His own seemed to be a little more prominent than usual at the moment as well, the guttural rasp of the Ander enunciation roughening his voice. "What are Fereldans doing here? Who hired you, and why?"
The man looked reluctant to answer, but one sharp jerk from Leon was enough to change his mind. Though he was usually perhaps the mildest of men, it was clear enough at the moment that the Seekers had not neglected to train him in how to utilize his dimensions for intimidation. "G-Gaspard," the mercenary said, the word escaping as more yelp than anything. "Gaspard did. We're supposed to wait here, for his signal. K-kill anyone who found out too soon."
"Why? What does he intend you to do?"
"N-nothing! Not if his plan goes well, I mean. Supposed to talk to some people, get them to make him Kingâer, Emperor. If that doesn't work, we're supposed to help the guards and chevaliers he bought menace the nobles a little, that's all. Rattle the sabers, you know?" It was unlikely the mercenary's pitch was that high usually, but some combination of panic and chill was elevating it.
"And if they are not cowed?"
"I-I dunno. Kill 'em, maybe? Whatever he wants!"
Leon's eyes narrowed, but he didn't seem to doubt the veracity of the information. Slowly, he set the man down on his feet, but his heavily-scarred fist remained clenched in the jerkin, holding him in place. Honestly it just made the near-foot in height discrepancy that much more obvious. "Vela. Was that you?"
"Wh-who?"
Leon's hand tightened; the mercenary tried and failed to take a step back. "The elven girl someone killed and tried to hide in the bushes."
The man shook his head jerkily. "No, ser. Only elves I ever saw tonight were those two. Mighta been one of the others, but, uhâ" he glanced at a couple of the nearby corpses. "Don't reckon they'll be able to tell you."
There was a long pause. Leon's breath slowed until it reached ordinary, pre-exertion levels. He was still scowling, still glaring into the mercenary's face like he was watching for even the slightest twitch, but his posture eased just slightly. "You're going to tell the court exactly what you just told me, and you're going to do it not a moment before or a moment after we instruct you to. Do you understand?"
With a series of quick, almost compulsive nods, the mercenary agreed. Leon expelled a heavy breath, then took a step back, releasing the man from his grip. Wisely, he did not attempt an escape.
"We should get the other two back to their friends. Dry clothes and the kitchen's heat will do more for them than we can out here."
Rom blinked a few times. In truth, he was lucky to have caught most of what the mercenary had said, but he understood that it was quite valuable ammunition to have against Gaspard. He wished he hadn't used the potion, but he hadn't been willing to take any chances, not when he was mostly unarmed and unarmored and near-perfection was required in the fight. Still... it was a good thing his clothes were dark, and could be partly hidden under his cloak.
Nodding silently to Leon, he moved to help the servants, and they started on their way back.