Estella had known this was going to be a headache, but she hadn't precisely anticipated the actual pounding in her head. She was fairly sure even that was only derivative on the terrible lancing pains shooting up her arm into her shoulder, though. The mark was not cooperating with her need to focus, which was really only making the entire situation unbearable.
Not that Arl Teagan wasn't doing an admirable job of that on his own. "The Inquisition established an armed presence in Ferelden territory. You outright seized Caer Bronach in Crestwood!"
Fortunately, Leon to her left wasn't currently in the middle of trying not to look like he was in excruciating pain. She wasn't sure she could form the words for an answer at right this moment. "Caer Bronach was under the control of bandits prior to our use of it, my lord. I hardly think the change a net negative, even for Ferelden." Though he kept his tone mild, there was a certain gravitas that his size and bass pitch couldn't help but add to what might have sounded downright snarky if someone else had said it instead, however true it was.
Teagan, however, didn't much seem to care either way. "And your help was appreciated at the time, High Seeker. But now order is restored, Corypheus is dead, and yet you remain. Invading under the pretext of restoring order is exactly what the Grey Wardens did to us centuries ago, and we exiled them! Now the Inquisition is doing the same thing, and expecting different results!"
"The Inquisition are not the Grey Wardens, Arl Teagan." Lucien's words perhaps carried the most weight of all, which was no doubt why he used so few of them. "The comparison is unwarranted. Better to speak of them on their own terms and merits."
"Of course Orlais tolerates the Inquisition's interference. They did a clean job knocking out the two people standing between you and that throne, didn't they, Emperor Lucien?"
Lucien's expression hardened fractionally. He did not, however, rise to the obvious bait. "It is in our interest as much as Ferelden's to ensure that no other regional power oversteps its bounds, the Inquisition included. But it isn't helpful to continue to berate them for what were, at worst, the well-intentioned mistakes of a foundling organization, acting in service of us all."
Estella pulled in a deep breath, her smooth visage starting to crack under the strain of the mark. It felt like her hand was splitting apart at the seams, echoes of the same cracking up through the long bones of her arm. She couldn't quite avoid the need to push her chair back a little, trying to adjust it without drawing attention to herself.
"An organization in need of a guiding hand. Yours, no doubt. You've already been quite the guide to one of the Inquisitors personally, have you not?"
Several eyes in the room were drawn near to Estella's side, where an elf had appeared. Brand, Rilien's aide. He'd approached silently, though he was obviously aware of the attention he unavoidably drew by moving to the Lady Inquisitor's side in the center of the room. He bent at the waist to speak such that only the Inquisition leaders would be able to hear him. "Terribly sorry about this, Lady Inquisitor, but Rilien needs to speak with you. It's rather urgent."
Next to Estella, Romulus was clutching at his wrist, trying to suppress the pain in his own mark no doubt. It seemed to subside at least a little for him, and while he obviously didn't think Brand was bringing them good news, he tilted his head, gesturing for Estella to go. "I can manage this. I think. Just try to make it quick."
It was a bit of an awkward spot to be put in, having to make her excuses to the likes of royalty and the kin of royalty, to say nothing of the Divine herself, but if Rilien had sent Brand to interrupt something this important, then she knew that whatever he was interrupting with had to be even moreso. So she made her excuses, trying not to flinch under Arl Teagan's withering glare, and took her leave swiftly and quietly from the council chamber.
She didn't ask Brand to explain, instead letting him lead her to wherever it was that they were supposed to be meeting. Around one side of the palace were the same gardens some of their number had explored parts of years ago, and in the light of day she could tell that there were several small outbuildings, guest-houses, and other such freestanding structures as well. It was to one of these—that looked to be nothing more illustrious than an extra storage space for unused portraits, that Brand led her.
Rilien was already waiting outside the door, but of equal interest to Estella at the moment was the large bloodstain on the threshold. "Rilien? What's wrong? Has someone been hurt?"
“Yes." Her teacher did not, as ever, soften the truth. “Furthermore, the same individual was killed. Of greater interest is who they were and how they were slain." Gesturing for her to follow, he stepped back into the room, over the drying blood and the threshold both.
Inside, propped up against one wall, was a Qunari. The design of the armor was not unfamiliar to her from days long past, when the northern wars were not so far away—the man could only have been a member of the Antaam, with gear that heavy. His sword, coated not in the blood of an enemy but rivulets of his own from the arm still gripping it, lay bare beside him; his head was lolled to one side, horn caught slightly on the wooden windowsill just above him.
"Didn't think I'd ever see one of these big guys again," Brand commented, stepping lightly over the blood so as to avoid getting it on his shoes. "Tempted to ask Lady C if she had anything to do with this, but somehow I imagine she's not looking for trouble here."
"She's no fool, so I expect you're right about that." Starting trouble in Orlais would be just about the worst thing Chryseis could do, from the perspective of self-interest. Among others.
Estella inhaled, finding that though musty, the air smelled only faintly of copper. There was more blood underneath him, but not nearly enough to suggest that he'd been wounded here. Taking a few steps closer, Estella crouched a respectful distance from the corpse, peering at his wounds.
The largest looked to be the one at the center of his chest, a very clean, well-defined entrance wound from what looked to have been a blade. A broad one, though, something made more for slashing than what it had done here—though clearly effective enough turned to this purpose as well. She squinted; there was a faint discoloration at the edges of the injury. His grey skin had darkened, almost to black.
"A burn?" she murmured.
Behind her, she heard the rustling of fabric as Rilien moved. “A very localized one." A pause. “Everburn leaves similar marks, but this blade was much too small to be a two-handed weapon. You should lift his arm as well."
She didn't bother asking why—Estella shifted forward enough to gently grasp the warrior by the bracer, shifting his arm away from his body. Immediately, she hissed in sympathy, not that it would do him any good. That was a definite scorch mark, right at his side and slightly towards his back. The size suggested a full lightning bolt, perhaps from a chain spell, but the placement was more like what she'd expect of one of the cascaded strikes that followed after. But if that was true...
Estella knew few people capable of such power. She knew even fewer who could also stab with such accuracy, and using a weapon that would leave small burns at the edges of its wounds. She swallowed, standing and letting out a hard breath. No doubt Rilien had wanted her to reach the obvious conclusion herself. "You don't think...?"
Why? Why would they concern themselves with Qunari? Why was a Qunari here, of all the places?
And perhaps the worst question of all: did that mean they'd been nearby the entire time?
"Where did he come from?" she asked instead, turning to face Rilien and Brand. "The fight couldn't have been here; someone would have heard it, and there would be others around." To say nothing of the property damage.
Rilien shook his head. “We do not yet know. I sent for you as soon as he was found. I do not think his origin will be difficult to track, however." His eyes fell to the bloodstain in the doorway. “He was bleeding heavily. No doubt we can follow it to his entrance."
Loosing a sigh, Estella nodded. "Then I suppose we had better." She didn't know who this Qunari was or where he'd come from, but the wounds were too unique to dismiss out of hand. And even if they hadn't been, the presence of a member of the Antaam at the Winter Palace was much too irregular not to figure out. The Qunari didn't use their army for diplomatic outreach, or even for spying—if he was here, violence was probably not far behind.
At first, the trail was simple enough to follow. No doubt the soldier had had other things on his mind besides concealing his trail, and spatters of blood dotted the lawn alongside the storage building. But then they took a turn into an alcove, one with a small inset fountain at the end and white-painted trellises flush with the walls, covered in the lush ivy and wisteria that the palace's gardeners seemed to favor. There was no other egress but the way she'd come, unless...
"What on earth?" A droplet of something, warm and sticky, landed atop her head. Reflexively reaching up, Estella touched two fingertips to it and pulled them away, eyes widening at the obvious red color. Stepping back several paces, she tilted her head up.
Sure enough, one of the railings above was coated in enough blood to suggest that the Qunari soldier had gone over it, perhaps not entirely voluntarily. The quickest way up was to climb the trellis.
"Um... maybe make sure no one comes down this way for a few minutes? Lucien's pretty understanding, but I don't know if the sight of the Lady Inquisitor climbing the walls of the Winter Palace is one I want anyone remembering."
“Be careful." Rilien said no more, turning his back to her and facing the entrance. Quiet footsteps carried him to the corner; no doubt he and Brand would be more than capable of distracting anyone who got too close. Subtlety was something they both did rather well, after all.
Flexing her hands, Estella winced at the sharp sting in her right. She'd just have to deal with it. Her clothing, chosen with diplomatic meetings in mind, was hardly the best for attempting a climb, but her boots were sturdy, at least, and she wouldn't have too much trouble climbing a trellis. It wasn't as though it were a naked stone wall or anything.
Reaching up, she chose a pair of handholds before lifting one foot and slotting it in. A moment to be thankful for relatively small feet, she supposed. With a slight jump from her back foot, she started up the wall, scaling quickly for fear of being spotted. It was about fifteen feet up to the balcony she wanted, and she shifted over a foot or so in order to leave plenty of room between herself and the blood before using the stone rail to pull herself up and over the balcony's edge.
It wasn't terribly different from any of the others adorning the Winter Palace, about the same size and floored in dark blue slate tiles. Obviously out of place was yet more blood—she had to wonder if the solider would have survived with healing or if he'd been doomed to his death the moment he took the injury. Probably the latter, but it seemed to have been unfortunately slow. Pausing for a moment to make sure she wasn't missing anything obvious, Estella pushed some loose hair back out of her face and headed inside.
"Oh." One look through the door was all it took. The bright piece of oblong glass could be nothing else, crystalline blue light shimmering across the surface. An active eluvian. Here.
"Oh no."
Biting her tongue, she mentally apologized to Rom. There was no resolving this one quickly.
Not that Arl Teagan wasn't doing an admirable job of that on his own. "The Inquisition established an armed presence in Ferelden territory. You outright seized Caer Bronach in Crestwood!"
Fortunately, Leon to her left wasn't currently in the middle of trying not to look like he was in excruciating pain. She wasn't sure she could form the words for an answer at right this moment. "Caer Bronach was under the control of bandits prior to our use of it, my lord. I hardly think the change a net negative, even for Ferelden." Though he kept his tone mild, there was a certain gravitas that his size and bass pitch couldn't help but add to what might have sounded downright snarky if someone else had said it instead, however true it was.
Teagan, however, didn't much seem to care either way. "And your help was appreciated at the time, High Seeker. But now order is restored, Corypheus is dead, and yet you remain. Invading under the pretext of restoring order is exactly what the Grey Wardens did to us centuries ago, and we exiled them! Now the Inquisition is doing the same thing, and expecting different results!"
"The Inquisition are not the Grey Wardens, Arl Teagan." Lucien's words perhaps carried the most weight of all, which was no doubt why he used so few of them. "The comparison is unwarranted. Better to speak of them on their own terms and merits."
"Of course Orlais tolerates the Inquisition's interference. They did a clean job knocking out the two people standing between you and that throne, didn't they, Emperor Lucien?"
Lucien's expression hardened fractionally. He did not, however, rise to the obvious bait. "It is in our interest as much as Ferelden's to ensure that no other regional power oversteps its bounds, the Inquisition included. But it isn't helpful to continue to berate them for what were, at worst, the well-intentioned mistakes of a foundling organization, acting in service of us all."
Estella pulled in a deep breath, her smooth visage starting to crack under the strain of the mark. It felt like her hand was splitting apart at the seams, echoes of the same cracking up through the long bones of her arm. She couldn't quite avoid the need to push her chair back a little, trying to adjust it without drawing attention to herself.
"An organization in need of a guiding hand. Yours, no doubt. You've already been quite the guide to one of the Inquisitors personally, have you not?"
Several eyes in the room were drawn near to Estella's side, where an elf had appeared. Brand, Rilien's aide. He'd approached silently, though he was obviously aware of the attention he unavoidably drew by moving to the Lady Inquisitor's side in the center of the room. He bent at the waist to speak such that only the Inquisition leaders would be able to hear him. "Terribly sorry about this, Lady Inquisitor, but Rilien needs to speak with you. It's rather urgent."
Next to Estella, Romulus was clutching at his wrist, trying to suppress the pain in his own mark no doubt. It seemed to subside at least a little for him, and while he obviously didn't think Brand was bringing them good news, he tilted his head, gesturing for Estella to go. "I can manage this. I think. Just try to make it quick."
It was a bit of an awkward spot to be put in, having to make her excuses to the likes of royalty and the kin of royalty, to say nothing of the Divine herself, but if Rilien had sent Brand to interrupt something this important, then she knew that whatever he was interrupting with had to be even moreso. So she made her excuses, trying not to flinch under Arl Teagan's withering glare, and took her leave swiftly and quietly from the council chamber.
She didn't ask Brand to explain, instead letting him lead her to wherever it was that they were supposed to be meeting. Around one side of the palace were the same gardens some of their number had explored parts of years ago, and in the light of day she could tell that there were several small outbuildings, guest-houses, and other such freestanding structures as well. It was to one of these—that looked to be nothing more illustrious than an extra storage space for unused portraits, that Brand led her.
Rilien was already waiting outside the door, but of equal interest to Estella at the moment was the large bloodstain on the threshold. "Rilien? What's wrong? Has someone been hurt?"
“Yes." Her teacher did not, as ever, soften the truth. “Furthermore, the same individual was killed. Of greater interest is who they were and how they were slain." Gesturing for her to follow, he stepped back into the room, over the drying blood and the threshold both.
Inside, propped up against one wall, was a Qunari. The design of the armor was not unfamiliar to her from days long past, when the northern wars were not so far away—the man could only have been a member of the Antaam, with gear that heavy. His sword, coated not in the blood of an enemy but rivulets of his own from the arm still gripping it, lay bare beside him; his head was lolled to one side, horn caught slightly on the wooden windowsill just above him.
"Didn't think I'd ever see one of these big guys again," Brand commented, stepping lightly over the blood so as to avoid getting it on his shoes. "Tempted to ask Lady C if she had anything to do with this, but somehow I imagine she's not looking for trouble here."
"She's no fool, so I expect you're right about that." Starting trouble in Orlais would be just about the worst thing Chryseis could do, from the perspective of self-interest. Among others.
Estella inhaled, finding that though musty, the air smelled only faintly of copper. There was more blood underneath him, but not nearly enough to suggest that he'd been wounded here. Taking a few steps closer, Estella crouched a respectful distance from the corpse, peering at his wounds.
The largest looked to be the one at the center of his chest, a very clean, well-defined entrance wound from what looked to have been a blade. A broad one, though, something made more for slashing than what it had done here—though clearly effective enough turned to this purpose as well. She squinted; there was a faint discoloration at the edges of the injury. His grey skin had darkened, almost to black.
"A burn?" she murmured.
Behind her, she heard the rustling of fabric as Rilien moved. “A very localized one." A pause. “Everburn leaves similar marks, but this blade was much too small to be a two-handed weapon. You should lift his arm as well."
She didn't bother asking why—Estella shifted forward enough to gently grasp the warrior by the bracer, shifting his arm away from his body. Immediately, she hissed in sympathy, not that it would do him any good. That was a definite scorch mark, right at his side and slightly towards his back. The size suggested a full lightning bolt, perhaps from a chain spell, but the placement was more like what she'd expect of one of the cascaded strikes that followed after. But if that was true...
Estella knew few people capable of such power. She knew even fewer who could also stab with such accuracy, and using a weapon that would leave small burns at the edges of its wounds. She swallowed, standing and letting out a hard breath. No doubt Rilien had wanted her to reach the obvious conclusion herself. "You don't think...?"
Why? Why would they concern themselves with Qunari? Why was a Qunari here, of all the places?
And perhaps the worst question of all: did that mean they'd been nearby the entire time?
"Where did he come from?" she asked instead, turning to face Rilien and Brand. "The fight couldn't have been here; someone would have heard it, and there would be others around." To say nothing of the property damage.
Rilien shook his head. “We do not yet know. I sent for you as soon as he was found. I do not think his origin will be difficult to track, however." His eyes fell to the bloodstain in the doorway. “He was bleeding heavily. No doubt we can follow it to his entrance."
Loosing a sigh, Estella nodded. "Then I suppose we had better." She didn't know who this Qunari was or where he'd come from, but the wounds were too unique to dismiss out of hand. And even if they hadn't been, the presence of a member of the Antaam at the Winter Palace was much too irregular not to figure out. The Qunari didn't use their army for diplomatic outreach, or even for spying—if he was here, violence was probably not far behind.
At first, the trail was simple enough to follow. No doubt the soldier had had other things on his mind besides concealing his trail, and spatters of blood dotted the lawn alongside the storage building. But then they took a turn into an alcove, one with a small inset fountain at the end and white-painted trellises flush with the walls, covered in the lush ivy and wisteria that the palace's gardeners seemed to favor. There was no other egress but the way she'd come, unless...
"What on earth?" A droplet of something, warm and sticky, landed atop her head. Reflexively reaching up, Estella touched two fingertips to it and pulled them away, eyes widening at the obvious red color. Stepping back several paces, she tilted her head up.
Sure enough, one of the railings above was coated in enough blood to suggest that the Qunari soldier had gone over it, perhaps not entirely voluntarily. The quickest way up was to climb the trellis.
"Um... maybe make sure no one comes down this way for a few minutes? Lucien's pretty understanding, but I don't know if the sight of the Lady Inquisitor climbing the walls of the Winter Palace is one I want anyone remembering."
“Be careful." Rilien said no more, turning his back to her and facing the entrance. Quiet footsteps carried him to the corner; no doubt he and Brand would be more than capable of distracting anyone who got too close. Subtlety was something they both did rather well, after all.
Flexing her hands, Estella winced at the sharp sting in her right. She'd just have to deal with it. Her clothing, chosen with diplomatic meetings in mind, was hardly the best for attempting a climb, but her boots were sturdy, at least, and she wouldn't have too much trouble climbing a trellis. It wasn't as though it were a naked stone wall or anything.
Reaching up, she chose a pair of handholds before lifting one foot and slotting it in. A moment to be thankful for relatively small feet, she supposed. With a slight jump from her back foot, she started up the wall, scaling quickly for fear of being spotted. It was about fifteen feet up to the balcony she wanted, and she shifted over a foot or so in order to leave plenty of room between herself and the blood before using the stone rail to pull herself up and over the balcony's edge.
It wasn't terribly different from any of the others adorning the Winter Palace, about the same size and floored in dark blue slate tiles. Obviously out of place was yet more blood—she had to wonder if the solider would have survived with healing or if he'd been doomed to his death the moment he took the injury. Probably the latter, but it seemed to have been unfortunately slow. Pausing for a moment to make sure she wasn't missing anything obvious, Estella pushed some loose hair back out of her face and headed inside.
"Oh." One look through the door was all it took. The bright piece of oblong glass could be nothing else, crystalline blue light shimmering across the surface. An active eluvian. Here.
"Oh no."
Biting her tongue, she mentally apologized to Rom. There was no resolving this one quickly.