Two more days of this, and it would be over. Rom couldn't remember another time where he'd felt quite like this.
He wanted this for Khari, very badly. This was where her efforts had led her ever since she was a girl, swinging a stick in the forest and dreaming of a different future. The battles they'd fought together were important, on a scale far larger than a knightly tournament could ever hope to be, but this was her mission. Her cause. And he'd never once believed it was a lost one.
Still, there were so many things that could go wrong, at any moment. The disguises were testing their patience. The prying eyes everywhere didn't even know what they were looking for, but if they happened to see the wrong thing, it could all be undone. Not to mention the events themselves. The joust had been difficult to watch, and he'd preferred to do it from the stands where Khari wouldn't pick up on his nervousness. The castle assault was easier, as they could do it together as a group.
And now, finally, they could take their masks off, and be the Inquisition again. Their presence was expected for the feast before the final day, whereas the absence of one unknown knight sitting in eighth place wouldn't be too unusual. The party itself wasn't going to be as extravagant as the one in Halamshiral either, though it would have its own kind of difficulties. Rom was in the process loosening up, but these sorts of things were always going to be uncomfortable.
The late evening air was comfortable enough for forgo cloaks, considering how many people were around and how much activity there was. Rom was also feeling somewhat warm from the drink by now; he was finding drinking to be easier than eating at the moment. Their table was packed with those of the Inquisition that had come, making the immediate area comfortable, but all around them the chevaliers were getting rowdier the longer the night went on.
Khari, usually one to take full advantage of any opportunity for celebration, was unusually quiet to his left, mostly intent on eating the food in front of her. She didn't look any more appetized by it than he felt. She was also going very light on the wine, a tension evident in the lines of her shoulders now that she'd swapped the heavy armor out for a thick winter tunic.
When a throat cleared behind them, she turned sharply, halfway out of her seat before she sat again, one foot on either side of the bench. It was the elven boy from earlier, shifting from foot to foot with his hands clasped tightly in front of him.
"Er... Inquisition?" His eyes narrowed into a squint, shifting from Rom to Michäel across the table, though he refrained from making any observations aloud. "I've been... asked to deliver a message. A friend of mine would like to see you. Specifically the Lady Inquisitor and her, uh, friend. Elf with red hair, she said."
"Does this friend of yours have a name?" Michaël asked, somehow keeping his tone genuinely curious rather than prying. The fluttering of eyebrows and wry grin that accompanied him was most likely aid by the half filled second drink sloshing in his hand.
"Kestrel, ser. She said you'd know it."
"We do." Estella furrowed her brows, frowning slightly. Her apprehension was clear enough, though she didn't seem to be on the verge of panic or anything so urgent. "I'll talk to her. Maybe let's not take everyone, though—we should probably be as discreet about this as possible." She glanced between Khari and Rom, standing from her spot on the bench across the table from them.
"Would you take us to her, please?"
The boy nodded, a little wide-eyed—perhaps it had something to do with the obvious importance of his company. They were hardly the entourage of a random chevalier at the moment, after all.
The party was still in full swing around them, making navigating through the crows something of a task, though it also allowed them to move around more or less unnoticed. Their group, small as it was, would have drawn a fair amount of attention were things around them less boisterous and distracting. After escaping the press of the partygoers, however, their guide picked up his pace a little, leading them to what seemed to be a small tent at the outskirts of the competitors' encampment. The soft glow of a lantern was visible within, staining the plain canvas in a warm yellow, the edges flickering slightly. Their guide pulled open the canvas flap, ushering them inside.
"At this point, I can't say I'm particularly surprised to run into you, Inquisition. Though—this is bold, even for you." Kestrel spoke without much by way of preamble, blinking yellow-green eyes at them from beneath a mask. A plain one, more akin to what the help wore than a noble's. She sat in an ordinary wooden chair, no more adorned than the rectangular table she'd propped her feet on, forcing the chair to its back legs. Clearly, she did not believe she was in any danger here.
Her eyes met Rom's first. "Lord Inquisitor. I don't believe I've had the privilege."
"Kestrel," Rom answered, inclining his head a little. It was true that they'd managed to avoid each other in the Winter Palace, leaving Rom to hear secondhand of her activities. From what he'd heard, Rom expected she might even approve in some way of what Khari was attempting here, if indeed she'd figured that out by now. And he wasn't going to underestimate her and assume she hadn't.
"I hope it's all right that I came uninvited." He didn't want to cause any trouble with her, but on the off-chance she intended any of it for Khari or Estella, he didn't want to be useless at a party table surrounded by chevaliers.
She shook her head immediately. "Of course—that's quite fine. I wouldn't want the whole Inquisition in my tent, I'm sure you understand, but this is no excess." Her tone was almost wry; based on what he'd heard, she was at best a tenuous ally, so perhaps she'd planned to receive a little extra company.
Whatever the case, she shifted her attention so that it encompassed all three of them, then waved a hand, dismissing the messenger who'd brought them. "Go get something to eat, Alain. I'll be fine here."
He nodded, sharp enough to perceive it as a request for privacy, and ducked back out of the tent.
Beneath the half-mask, Kestrel pursed her lips. "I know about Katriane." She let that sit for a moment, crossing one ankle over another. "Heard a whisper about a few slips of the tongue during the group exercise, no? A 'Stel' here, a 'Rom' there?"
Khari winced, mouth pulling into a deep frown. “Shit. How busted are we?"
"You aren't—yet. If you had been, you'd be having this conversation with some very pissed-off people with titles. Or rather, the Inquisitors would be having that conversation. You would be in prison, at best."
Estella's lips pursed; she crossed her arms in a way that suggested defensiveness, but her tone was free of any accusation. "But you think it might not take too long for someone else to put the pieces together?"
Kestrel shrugged. "I know more about you than most people do, but not that much more. If I was able to find out what that judge heard, or one of the other competitors includes the details in his story about it, well... there's also the fact that some of the members of your group around tonight haven't been around to watch the events—in particular the one who has loudly proclaimed her enthusiasm for all things chevalier." She raised a dark eyebrow at Khari over her mask.
"I'm quite certain it's only a matter of time."
It didn't come as too much of a surprise to Rom. It was one of the objectives here for everyone to find out that Khari was an elf, but preferably after she won, to better make the statement. Deception obviously wasn't her specialty, but he'd hoped they'd be able to keep things together just long enough. Maybe they still could.
"Do you have any suggestions?" he asked, trying to avoid sounding hostile. He figured even if Kestrel didn't agree with what Khari was doing, she would find some amusement in seeing their plan actually work, and cause a stir. "Or is this just a warning?"
The elf grimaced. "My suggestion is that you withdraw from the Tourney and go home. If no one's exposed you by tomorrow, it probably means they have some other plans for the information, and I don't think you're going to want to play into anyone's hands like that. Katriane withdraws, and I doubt anyone will bother to pursue."
“No." The word seemed like more of an involuntary outburst than a considered position. Swallowing thickly, Khari shook her head. “No. I'm not stopping now. Not when I've got a real chance. If you've got some other advice, I'm listening, but I'm not giving up."
A hyperbolic sigh escaped Kestrel, but there was a subtle smile playing at her lips, too. "I figured you might say that. Really the only other advice I have is so generic as to be useless."
Khari's face twitched into a grin. “Be careful? I get that one a lot."
"Just so, I'm afraid." Kestrel paused, humming softly. "Now, on the off-chance you make it to tomorrow morning without discovery, I'd watch the other competitors in the melee itself. And I'd say your friends should put their eyes to use watching the stands. Just a thought."
That didn't sound promising. A grand melee had a lot of possibilities to begin with. Rom's mind immediately went to the possibility of Khari's opponents teaming up against her, at least those that knew who she was, if indeed the knowledge got out. As for those in the stands... he supposed magic could be used subtly to interfere. No doubt that kind of cheating would backfire if caught out.
It was a useful warning, at least. "We'll be sure to do that," he said. "If there's nothing else, we should be getting back, before our absence becomes an issue." If indeed anyone cared that the Inquisitors were gone.
"Best of luck." Kestrel tipped her hat, a trace of irony in the motion.
From there, everyone filed out of the tent and back into the chilly evening air. Khari looked unusually troubled, brow furrowed heavily over her mask. She didn't say anything directly, though, instead shifting her cloak a little more tightly around her shoulders and striking back down the path Alain had used to get them here in the first place.
It was still mostly unoccupied, and the few people they did pass didn't look to be paying them much mind. Khari stopped suddenly, though upon reaching the edge of the crowd and firelight, her eyes fixed on some point in the distance and slightly to the left.
She'd locked eyes with someone. A second look at the mask proved it a familiar one, if only because the single encounter they'd had with it was so memorable. Théodore Blanchflor, flanked as before by his siblings, was regarding their group evenly, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't close enough to speak to, an enthusiastic knot of dancers and a bonfire in the way, but it was nevertheless unmistakable that they—or specifically Khari—had his attention.
Rom was close enough to see the muscle in Khari's jaw jump as she gritted her teeth. “You know, normally I'd consider it a good thing that the bastard can clearly see me now, but..."
Rom's expression remained stony, as neutral as he could keep it. It was just one more thing to be nervous about, but clearly Khari had enough stress already. "Shame he won't know who's pummeling him tomorrow," he said quietly. There was no telling what would happen in a grand melee, but he was willing to bet Khari would be seeking Théodore out at some point. He thought for a moment about advising against that... but he wasn't Khari's teacher here. She knew more about these events and how to handle them than he did.
"Best to leave them be for now, though."
She nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, you're right. No good starting a scene. Might give people more reason to look too close." A gust of air escaped her, and she shook her head, turning away from the Blancheflors and back towards her companions. “Anyway. I think it's time we figured out where they're hiding dessert. Isn't Orlais supposed to be famous for pastries and stuff? It'd be a shame to leave here without any."
He wanted this for Khari, very badly. This was where her efforts had led her ever since she was a girl, swinging a stick in the forest and dreaming of a different future. The battles they'd fought together were important, on a scale far larger than a knightly tournament could ever hope to be, but this was her mission. Her cause. And he'd never once believed it was a lost one.
Still, there were so many things that could go wrong, at any moment. The disguises were testing their patience. The prying eyes everywhere didn't even know what they were looking for, but if they happened to see the wrong thing, it could all be undone. Not to mention the events themselves. The joust had been difficult to watch, and he'd preferred to do it from the stands where Khari wouldn't pick up on his nervousness. The castle assault was easier, as they could do it together as a group.
And now, finally, they could take their masks off, and be the Inquisition again. Their presence was expected for the feast before the final day, whereas the absence of one unknown knight sitting in eighth place wouldn't be too unusual. The party itself wasn't going to be as extravagant as the one in Halamshiral either, though it would have its own kind of difficulties. Rom was in the process loosening up, but these sorts of things were always going to be uncomfortable.
The late evening air was comfortable enough for forgo cloaks, considering how many people were around and how much activity there was. Rom was also feeling somewhat warm from the drink by now; he was finding drinking to be easier than eating at the moment. Their table was packed with those of the Inquisition that had come, making the immediate area comfortable, but all around them the chevaliers were getting rowdier the longer the night went on.
Khari, usually one to take full advantage of any opportunity for celebration, was unusually quiet to his left, mostly intent on eating the food in front of her. She didn't look any more appetized by it than he felt. She was also going very light on the wine, a tension evident in the lines of her shoulders now that she'd swapped the heavy armor out for a thick winter tunic.
When a throat cleared behind them, she turned sharply, halfway out of her seat before she sat again, one foot on either side of the bench. It was the elven boy from earlier, shifting from foot to foot with his hands clasped tightly in front of him.
"Er... Inquisition?" His eyes narrowed into a squint, shifting from Rom to Michäel across the table, though he refrained from making any observations aloud. "I've been... asked to deliver a message. A friend of mine would like to see you. Specifically the Lady Inquisitor and her, uh, friend. Elf with red hair, she said."
"Does this friend of yours have a name?" Michaël asked, somehow keeping his tone genuinely curious rather than prying. The fluttering of eyebrows and wry grin that accompanied him was most likely aid by the half filled second drink sloshing in his hand.
"Kestrel, ser. She said you'd know it."
"We do." Estella furrowed her brows, frowning slightly. Her apprehension was clear enough, though she didn't seem to be on the verge of panic or anything so urgent. "I'll talk to her. Maybe let's not take everyone, though—we should probably be as discreet about this as possible." She glanced between Khari and Rom, standing from her spot on the bench across the table from them.
"Would you take us to her, please?"
The boy nodded, a little wide-eyed—perhaps it had something to do with the obvious importance of his company. They were hardly the entourage of a random chevalier at the moment, after all.
The party was still in full swing around them, making navigating through the crows something of a task, though it also allowed them to move around more or less unnoticed. Their group, small as it was, would have drawn a fair amount of attention were things around them less boisterous and distracting. After escaping the press of the partygoers, however, their guide picked up his pace a little, leading them to what seemed to be a small tent at the outskirts of the competitors' encampment. The soft glow of a lantern was visible within, staining the plain canvas in a warm yellow, the edges flickering slightly. Their guide pulled open the canvas flap, ushering them inside.
"At this point, I can't say I'm particularly surprised to run into you, Inquisition. Though—this is bold, even for you." Kestrel spoke without much by way of preamble, blinking yellow-green eyes at them from beneath a mask. A plain one, more akin to what the help wore than a noble's. She sat in an ordinary wooden chair, no more adorned than the rectangular table she'd propped her feet on, forcing the chair to its back legs. Clearly, she did not believe she was in any danger here.
Her eyes met Rom's first. "Lord Inquisitor. I don't believe I've had the privilege."
"Kestrel," Rom answered, inclining his head a little. It was true that they'd managed to avoid each other in the Winter Palace, leaving Rom to hear secondhand of her activities. From what he'd heard, Rom expected she might even approve in some way of what Khari was attempting here, if indeed she'd figured that out by now. And he wasn't going to underestimate her and assume she hadn't.
"I hope it's all right that I came uninvited." He didn't want to cause any trouble with her, but on the off-chance she intended any of it for Khari or Estella, he didn't want to be useless at a party table surrounded by chevaliers.
She shook her head immediately. "Of course—that's quite fine. I wouldn't want the whole Inquisition in my tent, I'm sure you understand, but this is no excess." Her tone was almost wry; based on what he'd heard, she was at best a tenuous ally, so perhaps she'd planned to receive a little extra company.
Whatever the case, she shifted her attention so that it encompassed all three of them, then waved a hand, dismissing the messenger who'd brought them. "Go get something to eat, Alain. I'll be fine here."
He nodded, sharp enough to perceive it as a request for privacy, and ducked back out of the tent.
Beneath the half-mask, Kestrel pursed her lips. "I know about Katriane." She let that sit for a moment, crossing one ankle over another. "Heard a whisper about a few slips of the tongue during the group exercise, no? A 'Stel' here, a 'Rom' there?"
Khari winced, mouth pulling into a deep frown. “Shit. How busted are we?"
"You aren't—yet. If you had been, you'd be having this conversation with some very pissed-off people with titles. Or rather, the Inquisitors would be having that conversation. You would be in prison, at best."
Estella's lips pursed; she crossed her arms in a way that suggested defensiveness, but her tone was free of any accusation. "But you think it might not take too long for someone else to put the pieces together?"
Kestrel shrugged. "I know more about you than most people do, but not that much more. If I was able to find out what that judge heard, or one of the other competitors includes the details in his story about it, well... there's also the fact that some of the members of your group around tonight haven't been around to watch the events—in particular the one who has loudly proclaimed her enthusiasm for all things chevalier." She raised a dark eyebrow at Khari over her mask.
"I'm quite certain it's only a matter of time."
It didn't come as too much of a surprise to Rom. It was one of the objectives here for everyone to find out that Khari was an elf, but preferably after she won, to better make the statement. Deception obviously wasn't her specialty, but he'd hoped they'd be able to keep things together just long enough. Maybe they still could.
"Do you have any suggestions?" he asked, trying to avoid sounding hostile. He figured even if Kestrel didn't agree with what Khari was doing, she would find some amusement in seeing their plan actually work, and cause a stir. "Or is this just a warning?"
The elf grimaced. "My suggestion is that you withdraw from the Tourney and go home. If no one's exposed you by tomorrow, it probably means they have some other plans for the information, and I don't think you're going to want to play into anyone's hands like that. Katriane withdraws, and I doubt anyone will bother to pursue."
“No." The word seemed like more of an involuntary outburst than a considered position. Swallowing thickly, Khari shook her head. “No. I'm not stopping now. Not when I've got a real chance. If you've got some other advice, I'm listening, but I'm not giving up."
A hyperbolic sigh escaped Kestrel, but there was a subtle smile playing at her lips, too. "I figured you might say that. Really the only other advice I have is so generic as to be useless."
Khari's face twitched into a grin. “Be careful? I get that one a lot."
"Just so, I'm afraid." Kestrel paused, humming softly. "Now, on the off-chance you make it to tomorrow morning without discovery, I'd watch the other competitors in the melee itself. And I'd say your friends should put their eyes to use watching the stands. Just a thought."
That didn't sound promising. A grand melee had a lot of possibilities to begin with. Rom's mind immediately went to the possibility of Khari's opponents teaming up against her, at least those that knew who she was, if indeed the knowledge got out. As for those in the stands... he supposed magic could be used subtly to interfere. No doubt that kind of cheating would backfire if caught out.
It was a useful warning, at least. "We'll be sure to do that," he said. "If there's nothing else, we should be getting back, before our absence becomes an issue." If indeed anyone cared that the Inquisitors were gone.
"Best of luck." Kestrel tipped her hat, a trace of irony in the motion.
From there, everyone filed out of the tent and back into the chilly evening air. Khari looked unusually troubled, brow furrowed heavily over her mask. She didn't say anything directly, though, instead shifting her cloak a little more tightly around her shoulders and striking back down the path Alain had used to get them here in the first place.
It was still mostly unoccupied, and the few people they did pass didn't look to be paying them much mind. Khari stopped suddenly, though upon reaching the edge of the crowd and firelight, her eyes fixed on some point in the distance and slightly to the left.
She'd locked eyes with someone. A second look at the mask proved it a familiar one, if only because the single encounter they'd had with it was so memorable. Théodore Blanchflor, flanked as before by his siblings, was regarding their group evenly, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't close enough to speak to, an enthusiastic knot of dancers and a bonfire in the way, but it was nevertheless unmistakable that they—or specifically Khari—had his attention.
Rom was close enough to see the muscle in Khari's jaw jump as she gritted her teeth. “You know, normally I'd consider it a good thing that the bastard can clearly see me now, but..."
Rom's expression remained stony, as neutral as he could keep it. It was just one more thing to be nervous about, but clearly Khari had enough stress already. "Shame he won't know who's pummeling him tomorrow," he said quietly. There was no telling what would happen in a grand melee, but he was willing to bet Khari would be seeking Théodore out at some point. He thought for a moment about advising against that... but he wasn't Khari's teacher here. She knew more about these events and how to handle them than he did.
"Best to leave them be for now, though."
She nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, you're right. No good starting a scene. Might give people more reason to look too close." A gust of air escaped her, and she shook her head, turning away from the Blancheflors and back towards her companions. “Anyway. I think it's time we figured out where they're hiding dessert. Isn't Orlais supposed to be famous for pastries and stuff? It'd be a shame to leave here without any."