The Winter Palace was alive and breathing around them as they hustled down the many winding corridorsâquietly. Just as quietly as they could be, of course. Zahraâs ears were straining for any signs of footsteps. Something out of the ordinary. Though she was mostly defering to Româs judgment in nearly all those regards. Seeing how he was much better at being stealthy and not being caught. With only the barest sense of where they were going and what theyâd need to find⊠it would prove difficult to return in a timely fashion.
âSo, weâve got to find one piece of document somewhere in the right wing of this enormous place. A contract. Youâd recognize the likes of it,â she paused to catch her breath and continued trekking at his side, âOminous writing. A large sum of money. Where the Empress would keep such a thing is another story.â They passed several closed doors on the way. None that fit the description. Apparently the right wing would open up into some personal quarters. Offices. Strange. She mightâve thought that the Empress would hide something so important in her bedroom.
Under a pillow or stuffed inside her mattress for safekeeping. How Q knew where sheâd hidden it went beyond her understanding. Orlesiansâ love of their Game knew no bounds and she supposed their hatred drew just as deeply. If this Q wanted the Empress kicked off her throne, she wouldnât have set any limitations to acquiring the information she needed to do so. Even still. This place was just as frightening as sheâd thought it would be, in a much different way than staring down the blade of an enemy.
Here enemies smiled and shook hands. Laughed and drank together. Waxed pleasantries about the weather and who was wearing what. It made no sense to her. She supposed it didnât matter even if it did. There was no place for a pirate among nobles and royalty. She found herself, for once, not minding that that was the case.
The last tendrils of a string instrument singing in the room they had left behind faded and was silenced as they progressed deeper. She was only aware that someone was approaching from behind when Leon was only a few paces away. Long legs were certainly favorable. She wondered if he had a better idea how to navigate the Winter Palaceâs halls, or at least, if he was somehow familiar. Or he was simply quicker to catch up now that theyâd paved the way. Thereâd been no guards to speak of. No trouble. Not yet.
âFancy meeting you here,â she tipped her head with a smile and moved over to allow him space to walk between them. âIf my directions are correct, weâre nearly there. I think.â
"We're going to want to look for an office, library. Something like that. Or maybe a safe." Still moving, he opened his hand, revealing a lockpick and the second, straight bit of metal usually required for leverage. "Estella loaned me these. I can use them, but I'm not especially fast or skilled, if either of you is better."
Zahra grinned wide, snatching them from his fingers and slipping them behind her ear, âIâll put them to good use.â Being a grimy fishmonger and a bygone raider meant sticking her fingers into things that didnât belong to her. Though she figured Rom had a similar set of skills needed for such a task⊠so if she couldnât get the damned thing open she would hand it off to him.
âA safe, more than likely. If she was smart about it.â
Rom continued in the lead, pausing when he laid eyes on a luxurious pair of double doors, the most ornate they'd seen in this particular wing of the palace, which was no small thing to say. "This looks promising," he said, moving forward to try the handle. Locked, of course. Taking a look around for anyone nearby, he found nothing, and then glanced at Zahra. "You want to take a crack at it?"
No sooner had he said it, however, then the light sound of a young woman's giggling laughter echoed down the hall. Around a corner, but coming closer. "Really, Duvelina, I must be getting back." That came from a second voice, a man's, and with it came the clanking of armor. The woman made an exaggerated sound of disappointment.
"So desperate to be rid of me, Mathieu? Viens ici, mon doudou!"
There was a moment of what sounded like passionate kissing, before they separated again. "Not here," the guard, Mathieu, said. "Won't your father be looking for you? What if he sees us? Let's... come, inside." Duvelina giggled her agreement, and their footsteps steadily approached the corner.
Rom cursed under his breath, holding out his hand for the lockpick. "Actually, let me," he said. "One of you needs to get rid of them." He obviously felt he wasn't the best candidate to do so, and given the skillset he'd demonstrated thus far it wasn't hard to imagine why.
Things had been going far too swimmingly. Of course, there had to some sort of complication. Zahra tsked and plucked the lock-pick from behind her ear, depositing it in Româs proffered hand. Maybe next time sheâd get to show off a little. Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment before she wound her arm through Leonâs and clasped her other hand onto his wristâhe wouldnât like this one bit, but it had to be done. She just hoped heâd be quick enough to play along. Sheâd apologize later. Over wine, perhaps. She tugged on his arm and inclined her head in the direction she wanted them to go, âPlay along, wonât you? Itâll be semi-painless, I swear.â
She mussed up her hair with one of her free hands and instructed him to do the same. Just enough to look like theyâd been fooling around in the hallway.
He seemed to get the general gist of the idea, anyway, mumbling something under his breath and reaching up to pull the tie out of his cornsilk hair and using a large hand to muss it. "Uhâ" He cut himself off, perhaps deciding that Mathieu and Duvelina were too close to risk any questions.
A few more paces and the voices were nearly on them. She waited until they were just at the corner, and whispered something along the lines of sorry under her breath before bodily pushing him towards the nearest wall. Away from the coffee table and flowery vase at their sides. Just hard enough to jostle the picture frame above their heads. This was a dance of another sort. It would have to be convincing enough to persuade a drunken couple to look elsewhere for their little tryst. She was certainly good at making people uncomfortable; a skill she would be able to put to good use in Halamshiral of all places.
Uncomfortable might have been too mild a word for Leon, at least. He went easily enough when she pushed, which was good, because she'd have probably not been able to get him anywhere if his instinct had been to resist. His eyes were round in surprise and something quite a bit like terror. Apparently, this was what it took to put a dent in the Commander's calm. Go figure.
She maneuvered them around the corner until they were right in front of them. Though she hadnât stopped. As if she was far too preoccupied to realize that they werenât alone. She drew herself up on her tippy toes and grabbed onto the front of Leonâs jacket in order to pull him down towards her. Slanting her head sideways to plant a kiss on his lips; aggressively. One of her hands drew up the sleeve of his jacket and tipped back towards his jawline, before she finally broke away. She froze in place and swung a wide-eyed stare in their direction; mouth still parted.
âOh! I didnât realize anyone else was here,â she unwound her fingers from the front of Leonâs jacket but remained in close proximity, âDear me, looks like youâve found our little hiding spot.â The implication was clear. She wouldnât be budging so they would have to clear off.
Leon's face was flushed a deep red. He'd clearly been expecting a something a bit more... feigned than the real thing, even if it was an act. The slightly dazed, extremely embarrassed expression on his face worked well enough for their purposes though, and he seemed to more or less snap out of it in time to at least contribute to the effort, clearing his throat and raising an eyebrow at the couple. "If, uh... if you don't mind..." he made a vague gesture with his hand, about as polite as an insinuation of 'get lost' could be.
Duvelina seemed very amused to have come upon them, trying and failing to stifle more giggles. "Oh dear, Mathieu. Looks like we'll want to try the other hallway." She winked at the both of them and turned, flouncing back the way she'd come, her paramour in her wake.
Leon cleared his throat again, ducking his head and refusing to make eye contact. Once they were gone, he stepped out from under where she'd shoved him back against the wall. "That was, ah... qu-quick thinking." He grimaced at his own slight stutter, then set himself to rights as swiftly as he could, straightening his shirtsleeves and combing his fingers back through his hair. "Let's... get back to Romulus, then. Ahem."
And here she was doubting his acting abilities. Perhaps sheâd gone a little too far. Supposing that the success in this heist was of the utmost importance, she thought theyâd done rather well. Zahra finally gave him some space and stepped off to the side; peeping up to look at his face. How red. Almost adorable. Sheâd never seen him so rattled before, the great Commander who towered over his enemies and strove into battle like a bull.
She patted him on the lower back and hmâd softly under her breath as they turned back around the corner, âI must say, you did splendidly. Thatâs one disaster averted.â She drew a finger up to her lips and tapped it there, âDonât worry, I wonât tell anyone. Cross my heart.â A laugh bubbled out as she dropped her hand back to her side, and tipped her head back up at him. It was in her nature to jostle the seriousness out of people. If only a little. Though she did link her hands behind her back and huff out a nearly genuine, âSorry, I canât help it.â
Besides, it looked like Rom was finished.
Indeed, he held one of the two doors slightly ajar for them, deftly flicking the lockpick about the fingers of his right hand. He shook his head slightly as they returned, offering a subtle grin. "I'd have just knocked them out," he admitted, shrugging. "But that's why I figured you should handle it." He tossed the lockpick at Zahra. "Come on, let's make this quick." He stepped inside, holding the door open for them to enter behind him.
The chamber they stepped into was as sumptuous as any Zahra had ever seen. It wasn't hard to decide that this had to be Celene's bedroom; there was just no one short of an Empress it could belong to.
There was almost too much to look at. The walls were painted in fresco-style, bright pigments in slavish detail illustrating... it was hard to say what. Scenes of venerated ancestors from history, perhapsârulers and famous Orlesians past. If the richness and number of the depictions was anything to go by, there was no shortage of them. Men and women with beautiful faces, beneath beautiful masks, often armed or mounted or both, scenes of war, romance, and tragedy in some sort of grand visual history lesson.
The images broke only for the full wall of windows, each enshrined in elaborate stonework, the top half of each one assembled from mosaics of colored glass, arranged in contiguous theme with the paint, interrupted only by lavish silk drapes, patterned in delicate embroidery which carried through over the chaise lounges, upholstered armchairs, and the coverlet over the massive four-poster bed against the furthest wall. All of the wood was rich and dark, much of it inlaid with gold or mother-of-pearl. A small writing desk sat in front of the central windows, neat stacks of parchment arranged meticulously upon it, an elaborate white feather quill resting upright in an inkwell beside them.
The ground beneath their feet was soft; purple rugs lay over the bare floors, their edges gilded with thread as well, many of them with tassels gathered at the corner. At the very center of the room hung another of the magelight chandeliers. This one sparkled like diamonds, each crystal throwing brilliant little rainbows upon the nearest surface. A door to the left likely led to a privy chamber, but there were two others as well. A closet and an attached lounge, maybe? The whole thing was much fussier than any room in Lucien's home, to be sure.
It definitely was too much to take in⊠which would make finding the documents a nightmare. Zahra only hoped that theyâd be left alone for the duration they were in here, seeing how the Empress would be one of the only ones allowed in her chambers. Though with mercenaries and spies skulking around in the shadows, she doubted that that was the case. Maybe it was too much to hope for. She took a few tentative steps inside the room and spun in a slow circle, absorbing her surroundings.
The desk sounded far too easy, and the Winter Palace was anything but. âNow, comes the hard part. Where oh where would she keep a contract?â A rhetorical question. One posed to herself. If she were the Empress who wanted a relevant person executed without so much as a whiff tracing back to her, sheâd use a vault and keep the key on her at all times; stuffed in her corset if she had to. She pulled open a few drawers and shut them once sheâd found nothing noteworthy. Only then did she approach the desk, and fan out some of the parchment papers.
Searching for keywords. Coin. Gaspard. Something.
Leon checked the other doors. "Bathroom, salon, and closet," he announced. "...a really big closet. Might be something back here, actually."
Rom peered in behind him, seeming to agree, as he was the first to step inside. The space was about as big as the area in which Rom lived in Skyhold, with incredible depth to store an absurd variety of gowns and any imaginable other garment that the Empress might need. Rom seemed honestly to be quite at home with breaking and entering, rummaging through the belongings of an incredibly important woman. Like this was something he'd done many times before.
The closet area was lit by a small magelight in the ceiling, reflecting off of the full-size mirror on the far wall and dimly casting over the room. It wasn't much light, but at least enough for Rom to soon locate something near the back. "Here. Safe." It appeared to be located in the back left corner, a well made piece of work if the half-frown on Rom's face was anything to go by. He crouched down in front of it, pulling free a lockpick set of his own, apparently tucked away somewhere in the cloak he wore. "I'll see what I can do."
Zahra popped her head around the corner, and into the closet before glancing around the gaudy dresses and frilly nightwear, âYou do that and Iâll make sure no one sneaks up on us.â Not that theyâd have many options if someone cornered them in the Empressâ chamber. Scrambling underneath the bed sheets or barricading themselves in the bathroom didnât sound very promising. She wandered the room as Leon continued shuffling through the parchment papers set on her writing deskâjust in case she hadnât hidden it in her vault. How long would a vault take to open anyway? It certainly wasnât as simple as a door.
The uncomfortable itch of time was finally setting in. Her stomach felt heavy. It made her pace in front of the door, occasionally pausing when she thought she heard something. Footsteps? No. Straining her ears for any further noise proved fruitless. Just her imagination playing tricks on her. She exhaled softly through her nose; rolling the tension from her shoulders. They were fine, for now. She wondered how the others were faring with their missions, deterring assassinations. Hopefully just as well as they were.
There. There it was again. Distinct footsteps. Clearer this time. She pressed herself up against the door and tilted her head so that her ear was pushed against the wooden frame. Voices. More than one person. Speaking in assertive tones. Guards? She couldnât tell. Orlesian accents, at least. âWaitâthereâs something...â her voice lowered into a hurried whisper, âSomeoneâs coming.â
"Hide!" Rom hissed, from inside the closet.
"Lock the door," Leon added, quickly neatening the stack of papers he'd been rifling through and then darting his eyes about. He selected his spot quickly, ducking into the bathroom and shutting the door softly behind him.
Zahra fought back the groan crawling up her throat as she snapped the lock back into place, searching the room for a suitable hiding place. Dammit. That would do. At least it wasnât in the bed itself. She hurried across the chamber, swishing purple finery as she skidded to a halt and crawled down on her belly. Fortunately the Empress was a clean lady. No dust to speak of, even underneath the bed. She pulled herself under and fixed the bedding back in place, making sure that her dress was tucked tight enough to her sides not to be seen peeping out.
Rom had apparently chosen to remain in the closet, as he didn't emerge from that room before the footfalls became much louder, right outside the door. Their voices were muffled outside, but definitely more along the gruff Orlesian lines than the more eloquent tones the nobility often took with each other. A key turned in the lock, and the door swung open. Two pairs of heavy plated boots made their way inside.
"It's incompetence, plain and simple," one of them said to the other, a deep male voice. He sighed in frustration. "The fool's never taken anything seriously in his life."
The next to speak up was a woman. "But he's your brother, you're really just going to destroy him like that? He'd be disgraced."
"Perhaps he should be. In any case, no harm seems to have been done. Room's clear."
"One moment," the woman said. "No harm in being thorough." Her boots thudded across the floor and into the closet, and what followed was an incredibly long moment of uncomfortable silence, as the other guard waited for her to finish her inspection, and very little sound at all came from inside. At least none that reached under Celene's bed.
Finally, after it seemed like the first guard might go to look, she reemerged. "Right, let's go. No need to watch the room from inside, right?" Together they made their way back through the door, closing and locking it behind them. Their footsteps did not take them away, and indeed it seemed as though they had stopped just outside the door, where they now stood watch.
A second later, Rom could be seen crouched in the doorway of the closet. "I don't think I can crack this," he admitted in a whisper. They would need to be very careful about their noise now. "At least... not with a lockpick."
The privy door opened soundlessly, Leon creeping out on surprisingly soft feet for a man so large. He moved a ways further from the entrance and towards Rom before he spoke. "Is there something else that will help? I doubt she leaves the key in here." It was almost certainly on her person. Zahra had already crept out from under the bed and was dusting herself off. Fixing the rumples in her dress; what could be done, if even Rom couldnât pick the lock? She doubted she could.
He held up his left hand, green energy of his mark glowing softly. He almost winced before he spoke. "This should get through it. But it'll be loud." He glanced around the room, taking in their surroundings. "And we'd need another way to get out quickly."
Leon pursed his lips, glancing about the room. It was almost possible to see the wheels turning in his head. "The windows," he decided. "We're on the third floor, so we'll need to be careful, but it should work. We'll need to buy ourselves time." His eyes alighted on one of the chaise lounges; he crossed to it and picked it up off the ground with great care, minding the fact that two of its feet were on wood rather than carpet. "Let's block the door."
Zahra glanced at the window leading out of the chamber. She liked the sounds of that⊠assuming they didnât fall and break their legs. What an unpleasant conclusion to a dramatic heist that would be. Three stories didnât sound so far down. At least she didnât think so. Best only think of it when they were cornered and had no other choice. She let Leon handle the heavy furniture, as she moved towards the bedding and grabbed a silken throw folded at the foot of the bed. It would do for what she had in mind.
She tiptoed towards the door and set about her work: a bowline knot. As good as it would be without being made of actual hempen rope. Tight enough to be an annoyance. She gave one more tug before stepping aside to let Leon pile chairs in front of the door. She almost wished she could see their faces when they realized they couldnât get inside as easily as theyâd done moments ago.
Once Leon was satisfied as to the amount of furniture in front of the door, he crossed to the window, pulling it open and then nodding wordlessly to Rom.
He nodded back, turning back inside the closet room. He didn't waste any time about it, either, kneeling before the safe and pressing his marked hand against the door. It glowed green for a moment, emerald veins spreading like spider webbing along the face of it. It cracked, and then Rom released the pent up energy, letting it collapse in on itself with a loud sound of shattering metal. Rom turned his face away from it momentarily, only long enough to protect himself, before he looked back and let the door swing open. Immediately there were sounds of confusion from outside, and then the guards tried their key in the door.
Shouts followed next when it wouldn't open for them, but Rom had apparently found what they were looking for. "Transaction record there, should be what we need." He handed it over to Leon, apparently believing the Commander to be the better person for safekeeping it, and then he led the way to the window, peering down towards the ground.
"There's a pretty easy path here. Don't have to climb all the way down, either, just bend your legs and roll when you drop. If you need to." It was all the advice they had time for. The guards were furious, the banging on the door almost drowning out Rom's words.
But they had what they came for.
âSo, weâve got to find one piece of document somewhere in the right wing of this enormous place. A contract. Youâd recognize the likes of it,â she paused to catch her breath and continued trekking at his side, âOminous writing. A large sum of money. Where the Empress would keep such a thing is another story.â They passed several closed doors on the way. None that fit the description. Apparently the right wing would open up into some personal quarters. Offices. Strange. She mightâve thought that the Empress would hide something so important in her bedroom.
Under a pillow or stuffed inside her mattress for safekeeping. How Q knew where sheâd hidden it went beyond her understanding. Orlesiansâ love of their Game knew no bounds and she supposed their hatred drew just as deeply. If this Q wanted the Empress kicked off her throne, she wouldnât have set any limitations to acquiring the information she needed to do so. Even still. This place was just as frightening as sheâd thought it would be, in a much different way than staring down the blade of an enemy.
Here enemies smiled and shook hands. Laughed and drank together. Waxed pleasantries about the weather and who was wearing what. It made no sense to her. She supposed it didnât matter even if it did. There was no place for a pirate among nobles and royalty. She found herself, for once, not minding that that was the case.
The last tendrils of a string instrument singing in the room they had left behind faded and was silenced as they progressed deeper. She was only aware that someone was approaching from behind when Leon was only a few paces away. Long legs were certainly favorable. She wondered if he had a better idea how to navigate the Winter Palaceâs halls, or at least, if he was somehow familiar. Or he was simply quicker to catch up now that theyâd paved the way. Thereâd been no guards to speak of. No trouble. Not yet.
âFancy meeting you here,â she tipped her head with a smile and moved over to allow him space to walk between them. âIf my directions are correct, weâre nearly there. I think.â
"We're going to want to look for an office, library. Something like that. Or maybe a safe." Still moving, he opened his hand, revealing a lockpick and the second, straight bit of metal usually required for leverage. "Estella loaned me these. I can use them, but I'm not especially fast or skilled, if either of you is better."
Zahra grinned wide, snatching them from his fingers and slipping them behind her ear, âIâll put them to good use.â Being a grimy fishmonger and a bygone raider meant sticking her fingers into things that didnât belong to her. Though she figured Rom had a similar set of skills needed for such a task⊠so if she couldnât get the damned thing open she would hand it off to him.
âA safe, more than likely. If she was smart about it.â
Rom continued in the lead, pausing when he laid eyes on a luxurious pair of double doors, the most ornate they'd seen in this particular wing of the palace, which was no small thing to say. "This looks promising," he said, moving forward to try the handle. Locked, of course. Taking a look around for anyone nearby, he found nothing, and then glanced at Zahra. "You want to take a crack at it?"
No sooner had he said it, however, then the light sound of a young woman's giggling laughter echoed down the hall. Around a corner, but coming closer. "Really, Duvelina, I must be getting back." That came from a second voice, a man's, and with it came the clanking of armor. The woman made an exaggerated sound of disappointment.
"So desperate to be rid of me, Mathieu? Viens ici, mon doudou!"
There was a moment of what sounded like passionate kissing, before they separated again. "Not here," the guard, Mathieu, said. "Won't your father be looking for you? What if he sees us? Let's... come, inside." Duvelina giggled her agreement, and their footsteps steadily approached the corner.
Rom cursed under his breath, holding out his hand for the lockpick. "Actually, let me," he said. "One of you needs to get rid of them." He obviously felt he wasn't the best candidate to do so, and given the skillset he'd demonstrated thus far it wasn't hard to imagine why.
Things had been going far too swimmingly. Of course, there had to some sort of complication. Zahra tsked and plucked the lock-pick from behind her ear, depositing it in Româs proffered hand. Maybe next time sheâd get to show off a little. Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment before she wound her arm through Leonâs and clasped her other hand onto his wristâhe wouldnât like this one bit, but it had to be done. She just hoped heâd be quick enough to play along. Sheâd apologize later. Over wine, perhaps. She tugged on his arm and inclined her head in the direction she wanted them to go, âPlay along, wonât you? Itâll be semi-painless, I swear.â
She mussed up her hair with one of her free hands and instructed him to do the same. Just enough to look like theyâd been fooling around in the hallway.
He seemed to get the general gist of the idea, anyway, mumbling something under his breath and reaching up to pull the tie out of his cornsilk hair and using a large hand to muss it. "Uhâ" He cut himself off, perhaps deciding that Mathieu and Duvelina were too close to risk any questions.
A few more paces and the voices were nearly on them. She waited until they were just at the corner, and whispered something along the lines of sorry under her breath before bodily pushing him towards the nearest wall. Away from the coffee table and flowery vase at their sides. Just hard enough to jostle the picture frame above their heads. This was a dance of another sort. It would have to be convincing enough to persuade a drunken couple to look elsewhere for their little tryst. She was certainly good at making people uncomfortable; a skill she would be able to put to good use in Halamshiral of all places.
Uncomfortable might have been too mild a word for Leon, at least. He went easily enough when she pushed, which was good, because she'd have probably not been able to get him anywhere if his instinct had been to resist. His eyes were round in surprise and something quite a bit like terror. Apparently, this was what it took to put a dent in the Commander's calm. Go figure.
She maneuvered them around the corner until they were right in front of them. Though she hadnât stopped. As if she was far too preoccupied to realize that they werenât alone. She drew herself up on her tippy toes and grabbed onto the front of Leonâs jacket in order to pull him down towards her. Slanting her head sideways to plant a kiss on his lips; aggressively. One of her hands drew up the sleeve of his jacket and tipped back towards his jawline, before she finally broke away. She froze in place and swung a wide-eyed stare in their direction; mouth still parted.
âOh! I didnât realize anyone else was here,â she unwound her fingers from the front of Leonâs jacket but remained in close proximity, âDear me, looks like youâve found our little hiding spot.â The implication was clear. She wouldnât be budging so they would have to clear off.
Leon's face was flushed a deep red. He'd clearly been expecting a something a bit more... feigned than the real thing, even if it was an act. The slightly dazed, extremely embarrassed expression on his face worked well enough for their purposes though, and he seemed to more or less snap out of it in time to at least contribute to the effort, clearing his throat and raising an eyebrow at the couple. "If, uh... if you don't mind..." he made a vague gesture with his hand, about as polite as an insinuation of 'get lost' could be.
Duvelina seemed very amused to have come upon them, trying and failing to stifle more giggles. "Oh dear, Mathieu. Looks like we'll want to try the other hallway." She winked at the both of them and turned, flouncing back the way she'd come, her paramour in her wake.
Leon cleared his throat again, ducking his head and refusing to make eye contact. Once they were gone, he stepped out from under where she'd shoved him back against the wall. "That was, ah... qu-quick thinking." He grimaced at his own slight stutter, then set himself to rights as swiftly as he could, straightening his shirtsleeves and combing his fingers back through his hair. "Let's... get back to Romulus, then. Ahem."
And here she was doubting his acting abilities. Perhaps sheâd gone a little too far. Supposing that the success in this heist was of the utmost importance, she thought theyâd done rather well. Zahra finally gave him some space and stepped off to the side; peeping up to look at his face. How red. Almost adorable. Sheâd never seen him so rattled before, the great Commander who towered over his enemies and strove into battle like a bull.
She patted him on the lower back and hmâd softly under her breath as they turned back around the corner, âI must say, you did splendidly. Thatâs one disaster averted.â She drew a finger up to her lips and tapped it there, âDonât worry, I wonât tell anyone. Cross my heart.â A laugh bubbled out as she dropped her hand back to her side, and tipped her head back up at him. It was in her nature to jostle the seriousness out of people. If only a little. Though she did link her hands behind her back and huff out a nearly genuine, âSorry, I canât help it.â
Besides, it looked like Rom was finished.
Indeed, he held one of the two doors slightly ajar for them, deftly flicking the lockpick about the fingers of his right hand. He shook his head slightly as they returned, offering a subtle grin. "I'd have just knocked them out," he admitted, shrugging. "But that's why I figured you should handle it." He tossed the lockpick at Zahra. "Come on, let's make this quick." He stepped inside, holding the door open for them to enter behind him.
The chamber they stepped into was as sumptuous as any Zahra had ever seen. It wasn't hard to decide that this had to be Celene's bedroom; there was just no one short of an Empress it could belong to.
There was almost too much to look at. The walls were painted in fresco-style, bright pigments in slavish detail illustrating... it was hard to say what. Scenes of venerated ancestors from history, perhapsârulers and famous Orlesians past. If the richness and number of the depictions was anything to go by, there was no shortage of them. Men and women with beautiful faces, beneath beautiful masks, often armed or mounted or both, scenes of war, romance, and tragedy in some sort of grand visual history lesson.
The images broke only for the full wall of windows, each enshrined in elaborate stonework, the top half of each one assembled from mosaics of colored glass, arranged in contiguous theme with the paint, interrupted only by lavish silk drapes, patterned in delicate embroidery which carried through over the chaise lounges, upholstered armchairs, and the coverlet over the massive four-poster bed against the furthest wall. All of the wood was rich and dark, much of it inlaid with gold or mother-of-pearl. A small writing desk sat in front of the central windows, neat stacks of parchment arranged meticulously upon it, an elaborate white feather quill resting upright in an inkwell beside them.
The ground beneath their feet was soft; purple rugs lay over the bare floors, their edges gilded with thread as well, many of them with tassels gathered at the corner. At the very center of the room hung another of the magelight chandeliers. This one sparkled like diamonds, each crystal throwing brilliant little rainbows upon the nearest surface. A door to the left likely led to a privy chamber, but there were two others as well. A closet and an attached lounge, maybe? The whole thing was much fussier than any room in Lucien's home, to be sure.
It definitely was too much to take in⊠which would make finding the documents a nightmare. Zahra only hoped that theyâd be left alone for the duration they were in here, seeing how the Empress would be one of the only ones allowed in her chambers. Though with mercenaries and spies skulking around in the shadows, she doubted that that was the case. Maybe it was too much to hope for. She took a few tentative steps inside the room and spun in a slow circle, absorbing her surroundings.
The desk sounded far too easy, and the Winter Palace was anything but. âNow, comes the hard part. Where oh where would she keep a contract?â A rhetorical question. One posed to herself. If she were the Empress who wanted a relevant person executed without so much as a whiff tracing back to her, sheâd use a vault and keep the key on her at all times; stuffed in her corset if she had to. She pulled open a few drawers and shut them once sheâd found nothing noteworthy. Only then did she approach the desk, and fan out some of the parchment papers.
Searching for keywords. Coin. Gaspard. Something.
Leon checked the other doors. "Bathroom, salon, and closet," he announced. "...a really big closet. Might be something back here, actually."
Rom peered in behind him, seeming to agree, as he was the first to step inside. The space was about as big as the area in which Rom lived in Skyhold, with incredible depth to store an absurd variety of gowns and any imaginable other garment that the Empress might need. Rom seemed honestly to be quite at home with breaking and entering, rummaging through the belongings of an incredibly important woman. Like this was something he'd done many times before.
The closet area was lit by a small magelight in the ceiling, reflecting off of the full-size mirror on the far wall and dimly casting over the room. It wasn't much light, but at least enough for Rom to soon locate something near the back. "Here. Safe." It appeared to be located in the back left corner, a well made piece of work if the half-frown on Rom's face was anything to go by. He crouched down in front of it, pulling free a lockpick set of his own, apparently tucked away somewhere in the cloak he wore. "I'll see what I can do."
Zahra popped her head around the corner, and into the closet before glancing around the gaudy dresses and frilly nightwear, âYou do that and Iâll make sure no one sneaks up on us.â Not that theyâd have many options if someone cornered them in the Empressâ chamber. Scrambling underneath the bed sheets or barricading themselves in the bathroom didnât sound very promising. She wandered the room as Leon continued shuffling through the parchment papers set on her writing deskâjust in case she hadnât hidden it in her vault. How long would a vault take to open anyway? It certainly wasnât as simple as a door.
The uncomfortable itch of time was finally setting in. Her stomach felt heavy. It made her pace in front of the door, occasionally pausing when she thought she heard something. Footsteps? No. Straining her ears for any further noise proved fruitless. Just her imagination playing tricks on her. She exhaled softly through her nose; rolling the tension from her shoulders. They were fine, for now. She wondered how the others were faring with their missions, deterring assassinations. Hopefully just as well as they were.
There. There it was again. Distinct footsteps. Clearer this time. She pressed herself up against the door and tilted her head so that her ear was pushed against the wooden frame. Voices. More than one person. Speaking in assertive tones. Guards? She couldnât tell. Orlesian accents, at least. âWaitâthereâs something...â her voice lowered into a hurried whisper, âSomeoneâs coming.â
"Hide!" Rom hissed, from inside the closet.
"Lock the door," Leon added, quickly neatening the stack of papers he'd been rifling through and then darting his eyes about. He selected his spot quickly, ducking into the bathroom and shutting the door softly behind him.
Zahra fought back the groan crawling up her throat as she snapped the lock back into place, searching the room for a suitable hiding place. Dammit. That would do. At least it wasnât in the bed itself. She hurried across the chamber, swishing purple finery as she skidded to a halt and crawled down on her belly. Fortunately the Empress was a clean lady. No dust to speak of, even underneath the bed. She pulled herself under and fixed the bedding back in place, making sure that her dress was tucked tight enough to her sides not to be seen peeping out.
Rom had apparently chosen to remain in the closet, as he didn't emerge from that room before the footfalls became much louder, right outside the door. Their voices were muffled outside, but definitely more along the gruff Orlesian lines than the more eloquent tones the nobility often took with each other. A key turned in the lock, and the door swung open. Two pairs of heavy plated boots made their way inside.
"It's incompetence, plain and simple," one of them said to the other, a deep male voice. He sighed in frustration. "The fool's never taken anything seriously in his life."
The next to speak up was a woman. "But he's your brother, you're really just going to destroy him like that? He'd be disgraced."
"Perhaps he should be. In any case, no harm seems to have been done. Room's clear."
"One moment," the woman said. "No harm in being thorough." Her boots thudded across the floor and into the closet, and what followed was an incredibly long moment of uncomfortable silence, as the other guard waited for her to finish her inspection, and very little sound at all came from inside. At least none that reached under Celene's bed.
Finally, after it seemed like the first guard might go to look, she reemerged. "Right, let's go. No need to watch the room from inside, right?" Together they made their way back through the door, closing and locking it behind them. Their footsteps did not take them away, and indeed it seemed as though they had stopped just outside the door, where they now stood watch.
A second later, Rom could be seen crouched in the doorway of the closet. "I don't think I can crack this," he admitted in a whisper. They would need to be very careful about their noise now. "At least... not with a lockpick."
The privy door opened soundlessly, Leon creeping out on surprisingly soft feet for a man so large. He moved a ways further from the entrance and towards Rom before he spoke. "Is there something else that will help? I doubt she leaves the key in here." It was almost certainly on her person. Zahra had already crept out from under the bed and was dusting herself off. Fixing the rumples in her dress; what could be done, if even Rom couldnât pick the lock? She doubted she could.
He held up his left hand, green energy of his mark glowing softly. He almost winced before he spoke. "This should get through it. But it'll be loud." He glanced around the room, taking in their surroundings. "And we'd need another way to get out quickly."
Leon pursed his lips, glancing about the room. It was almost possible to see the wheels turning in his head. "The windows," he decided. "We're on the third floor, so we'll need to be careful, but it should work. We'll need to buy ourselves time." His eyes alighted on one of the chaise lounges; he crossed to it and picked it up off the ground with great care, minding the fact that two of its feet were on wood rather than carpet. "Let's block the door."
Zahra glanced at the window leading out of the chamber. She liked the sounds of that⊠assuming they didnât fall and break their legs. What an unpleasant conclusion to a dramatic heist that would be. Three stories didnât sound so far down. At least she didnât think so. Best only think of it when they were cornered and had no other choice. She let Leon handle the heavy furniture, as she moved towards the bedding and grabbed a silken throw folded at the foot of the bed. It would do for what she had in mind.
She tiptoed towards the door and set about her work: a bowline knot. As good as it would be without being made of actual hempen rope. Tight enough to be an annoyance. She gave one more tug before stepping aside to let Leon pile chairs in front of the door. She almost wished she could see their faces when they realized they couldnât get inside as easily as theyâd done moments ago.
Once Leon was satisfied as to the amount of furniture in front of the door, he crossed to the window, pulling it open and then nodding wordlessly to Rom.
He nodded back, turning back inside the closet room. He didn't waste any time about it, either, kneeling before the safe and pressing his marked hand against the door. It glowed green for a moment, emerald veins spreading like spider webbing along the face of it. It cracked, and then Rom released the pent up energy, letting it collapse in on itself with a loud sound of shattering metal. Rom turned his face away from it momentarily, only long enough to protect himself, before he looked back and let the door swing open. Immediately there were sounds of confusion from outside, and then the guards tried their key in the door.
Shouts followed next when it wouldn't open for them, but Rom had apparently found what they were looking for. "Transaction record there, should be what we need." He handed it over to Leon, apparently believing the Commander to be the better person for safekeeping it, and then he led the way to the window, peering down towards the ground.
"There's a pretty easy path here. Don't have to climb all the way down, either, just bend your legs and roll when you drop. If you need to." It was all the advice they had time for. The guards were furious, the banging on the door almost drowning out Rom's words.
But they had what they came for.