Hidden Agenda

/Lightheaded with legs of stone, Nathaniel stumbled to his father’s study. Dread rumbled within him, preparing himself for the cruel remark that would doubtlessly leave Howe’s lips. Resting his weight on the doorway, his gaze slowly slid from the dull marble floor to the red liquid dripping off the desk. It was then that his eyes locked on and traveled up a thin pair of ankles that belonged to a petite elf with blonde hair that stopped just short of the shoulders. The elf turned and Nathaniel realized it was male…and the male elf was shielding the decapitated body of his father. Howe’s head sat on the desk, eyes closed, mouth slightly open…./
A shrill noise split Nathaniel’s eardrums, startling him into consciousness. Through glazed eyes, he saw the form of his sister kneeling beside him and two blurred outlines huddled behind her. “Nathaniel! Thank the Maker…he’s alive.” Deliah breathed as Nathaniel automatically propped himself up on an elbow. Nathaniel forced himself to blink, revealing the persons behind Deliah as Nan and his mother, though he could scarcely believe it. Nan didn’t have a compassionate bone in her frail body and she had passed on this abnormality to her daughter. Yet there they were, Nan cuddling his sobbing mother. In the foreground Deliah spoke, dapping a bit of cloth against her tongue: “You’re bleeding….your nose..and your side…”
“Why is Nan cuddling Mother?” Nathaniel asked, his eyes frozen on them even as Deliah reached towards him. The cloth paused inches from Nathaniel’s bloodied cheek as his gray eyes met her hazel ones. “Deliah?” he pressed. She slowly lowered her hand “…Is father dead?” Deliah’s gaze dropped then she gingerly glanced over her shoulder. Nathaniel didn’t look, he already knew.
“…What happened brother?” Deliah asked softly.
Nathaniel frowned at the marble floor, picturing the elf’s sword skitting across it as he tackled the assassin in a chokehold. He had seen that elf before….Nathaniel remembered the rage boiling over his gaze…but seconds before he had lunged, the elf had said something…what was it? Suddenly the elf’s strange accent rattled through Nate’s mind : “~~~~~~~~ seemed sweet on you…”
“~~~~~~~~~..” he said aloud in a frown.
”What?” Deliah asked. Her question fell on deaf ears as Nathaniel’s thoughts raced. You had been speaking to that elf near the gate of the servants’ quarters. That elf had been the one to help you serve the ale at dinner. The ale….
“We were drugged.” Nathaniel realized. When he looked at his sister, he saw her eyes were narrow.
“Drugged?” Deliah repeated.
“Yes by an elven assassin!” Nate announced.
There was a sharp intake of breath as Nan scoffed. “An elven assassin? You’re delirious as well as stupid Nathaniel.” She said, sparing a glare as she continued to console her daughter.
“You have lost a lot of blood brother…” Deliah worried as she pulled Nathaniel to his feet. She grimaced as he groaned, clenching his shoulder. “You were stabbed too?!”
“It’s not important…” Nate grunted, turning around.
“Of course it’s-wait where are you going?” Deliah called as he hobbled out of the study.
“I’m going after them!”
“Them? Nathaniel no! You need to see a physician…Nathaniel!”

The leather inlines of Nathaniel’s armor grated against his wounds as he buckled his boots. An open injury kit lay forgotten inches from him. Nathaniel had tended to himself quickly, wrapping his side and splashing a health poultice against his shoulder. Standing, Nathaniel crossed the room to his bed. His tan Maburi looked up as he passed. Reaching behind the headboard, Nathaniel’s fingers closed around a broken bow that mended itself the instant he touched it. The bow only worked in the hands of a Howe; it had been his grandfather’s who had ran off to become a Grey Warden and was never seen again. The wood was tinted blue and in the midst of its face was the Howe crest. Nathaniel winced as he swung the bow behind him, clamping it securely against his bundle of arrows. “Ready to go?” he asked his Maburi. The Maburi barked intently. “Then lead the way Hannibal.” The Maburi tilted his head. “…What? You don’t know her scent?” Nate asked. The Maburi hestiantly barked. “What kind of tracker are you?” The Maburi growled and Nate held up his hands. “Fine, fine. We’ll stop by the servants quarters first.” The Maburi barked happily and hopped off the bed.

Stepping outdoors, the first thing Nathaniel saw was Samuel sprawled out beneath Andraste’s statue. “Samuel! Groundskeeper Samuel..” Nathaniel said, kneeling beside him. Samuel stirred at his touch.
“Nate?” he murmured. The Maburi licked his face until Nathaniel shooed him in the direction of the servants quarters.
“Groundskeeper…what happened?” Nate pressed as he carefully helped Samuel to his feet.
“Someone knocked me out..from behind..…I saw ~~~~~~~~~…with two men…their arms were…”
“Was one of the men an elf?”
“Wha? No. No, I think they were mages.” Samuel mused.
“Mages? Here?…Why would the assassin bring mages?” Nathaniel asked himself.
“Assassin? Do you mean…?” Samuel trailed off.
“My father’s dead.” Nathaniel confirmed.
“Oh Nate…”
“..And ~~~~~~~~~ knew of the plot against him.”
“What? No she’d never…the mages!” Samuel blurted.
“What about them?” Nate pressed.
“One had a demonic look about him. Perhaps he was a blood mage…controlling her mind.” Samuel explained as Nathaniel
“…Perhaps.” Nathaniel considered. “But someone has to pay for my father’s death.”
“Nate, I watched you two grow up…I saw the way you looked at her, even when she didn’t.”
“..Samuel…”
“I haven’t told a soul…If your father had known, he would’ve killed her on the spot. All I’m saying is don’t doom yourself by dooming her Little Nate.”
Nathaniel was silent, staring up at the statue of Andraste. “I’m not little anymore.” He said tonelessly. “Nor that..child that I once was.”
Samuel fought a smile. “I’m afraid you’re wrong Sire. You will always be Little Nate at heart.” He replied.
Nathaniel slowly looked at him. “Heart is something we Howes lack Samuel. Regardless, I have to go…” His gaze shifted to the Maburi returning from the servants quarters. “Did you get her scent?” he asked. The Maburi barked proudly. “Then we’re off.”

******
“So this is the City of Amarathine…” Taliesan mused, coming to a stop, his gaze upward. “Not anymore impressive up close than it was from far away…”
The city lay in the heart of a forest, the road leading to it sloped up with each step. The city stretched from side-to-side, the tower-tops made of red bricks. Along the road, tents were set up and there was even a shabby home or two. You didn’t have to see the pointy-earred children running amuck to know it belonged to your brethren.
“You don’t have much good to say do you?” Anders replied.
“Did you hear something Zevran?” Tal mocked.
“Now that we’re here,” Zevran began, ignoring them both as he turned to you. “Taliesan and I must go speak to the Dark Wolf.”
“The Dark Wolf?” Jowan repeated before you could.
“I’m told the Crows paid him for information on my next target.” Zevran continued.
“You mean you’re going to assassinate someone else? Already?” Anders asked with a laugh.
“You think he came all the way to Ferdelen to kill one lousy human?” Taliesan jeered.
“You’re human, or have you somehow forgotten?” Jowan replied.
“Enough! All of you..I am beginning to understand why they say it’s bad luck to bring women along when you travel.” Zevran responded. “What I was trying to tell you my dear ~~~~~~~~~~, is that Taliesan and I will be speaking to him at the back gate. Why don’t you help the mages sell the Avvar armor? We’ll catch up with you…”
“Take your time!” Anders called as they walked ahead.
“We cant be part of another assassination, it’s bad enough we were involved with this one.” Jowan said softly. On either side there were slummed homes, with people along the road begging for money.
“How were we involved?! Cause we fled with them?” Anders laughed as the three of you passed beneath the gigantic archway of the city.
“Hail.” Said a city guard, his armor made of red steel in places. “I have to check you for smuggling.”
“You blind? We’re just here to sell armor..” Anders replied, shifting the pile in his arms.
“So it’d seem but…” the guard began.
Another guard approached, his armor shiner than the others. “What are you doing?” he asked. His skin was tan, as was his hair, his face slightly weathered.
“Y-You said to check everyone Aidan,” the other stammered.
“That’s Constable Aidan.” Aidan corrected. “And these men are mages,” he gestured. “How many mages do we get in Amarathine?” he asked. The other guard opened his mouth but Aidan continued: “Almost none. They’re clearly travelers not smugglers.”
“I apologize…Constable.” The guard said, bowing his head and moving away.
“I apologize on his behalf, sirs.” Aidan replied. “You may want to try the dwarven merchant Glassric, he’s a weaponsmith. Enjoy your stay.”
“Funny, I didn’t notice Zevran and the other one get hasseled.” Jowan mused as the three of you stepped into the city itself.
“Those two know how to disappear at will. It’s disturbing..” Anders replied. He and Jowan immediately turned left down a set of stone stairs. You followed closely behind, your gaze falling on a dwarf standing behind two slabs of decorated stone.
“By the Paragons…” Glassric greeted, his beady eyes on the Avvar armor Jowan unloaded.
“Wha?” Anders replied as Glassric picked up the Avvar’s helmet. Jowan nudged Anders and gestured for him to set the armor down.
“Where in the name of our Ancestors, did you find these?” Glassric asked placing a hand on the Avvar’s breastplate.
“It’s not important,” Jowan answered. “How much would you say they’re worth?”
Glassric huffed a laugh. “…6 maybe 7 sovereign a piece…”
“A piece?” Jowan and Anders echoed. Glassric raised a stubby finger to his lips but nodded. “Maker…” Anders breathed.
An elven woman with short blonde braided hair walked up beside you, though her attention was on Anders’s broad back. “Word of advice, don’t let him sweet-talk you. He’s very good at that,” she said, a soft rasp to her voice.
“Namaya?” Anders muttered before he had even turned around.
“I was wondering when you’d show up..” she replied.
“What are you doing here?”
“What do you think? I keep my promises.”
A wave of sheepishness washed over Anders face as Jowan faced Namaya too. “That the girl looking for your phylactery?” he asked.
“And I’ve found it too. See that door?” Namaya nodded to the left.
“I…guess I should thank you…” Anders stammered.
“Damn right. You get caught this time Anders, and I’m not helping you out.” Namaya turned to leave, but she paused to glance at you. “You remember what I said.” She added.
“…Friend of yours?” you murmured.
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” Anders replied.
Thankfully Glassric cleared his throat at that moment causing Anders to turn around. Glassric handed him a silk pouch, the sovereigns jingling inside.
Jowan took a sideways step towards you. “He was just using her,” he whispered in your ear.
“Jowan! I’m shocked and appalled..” Anders responded. Jowan just folded his arms with a smirk. “Now I’m not sharing,” he tucked the pouch into the breast of his robe.
“Oh? Not even if I help you destroy your phylactery?” Jowan challenged.
“What is that?” you asked.
“You think it’s guarded?” Anders asked ignoring you.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jowan shrugged.
“What’s a phylactery?” you pressed.
Anders exhaled. “Suppose you’re right,” he told Jowan before turning to you. “Long story short, it’s what the templars use to track down rogue Circle mages.” He answered.
“Circle mages?” you repeated.
“Look we’ll explain it to you later,” Anders continued. “For now I think we should go destroy my phylactery, if it is unguarded it wont be for long…”
“So you are going to split the sovereigns…” Jowan half-asked.
“I was only giving you a hard time friend. What on Earth would I do with 42 sovereigns anyway?” Anders replied with a shrug.
Jowan just chuckled. “~~~~~~~~~~ why don’t you wait for us here?” he suggested.
“But….?” You trailed off as Anders took your hand and placed 3 gold coins in your palm. “…That’s a sovereign?”
“Awe you’re like a child,” His fingers pressed against your cheek in a squeeze. “That’s three sovereigns. I’m spoiling you.” He said smugly.
“C’mon Anders,” Jowan sighed, lugging him away by his collar. “We’ll be back soon ~~~~~~~.”
You glanced blankly at the coins in your palm. The only time you had been given money was from Bryce Cousland when he came to visit Howe….but Mrs. Howe had spotted the transaction and forced you to hand it over to her. You could actually buy something! But what? You glanced around the city. There was another merchant stall not far from Glassric’s….ran by a human who didn’t look friendly. Closing your hand around the coins and cupping it with your other hand, you walked past him. Your eyes darted to a chicken coop between two small houses on the right, then you looked to the left. At the end of a short alleyway, was the most beautiful male elf you had ever seen. His flawless skin practically shone, outlining his chiseled cheekbones and perfect lips. His blonde hair was short and fair, his eyes gleaming. He was sitting behind a wooden chest, that seemed to double as a merchant table. You started towards him without even realizing it.
“Hello,” he greeted with the shadow of a laugh. Were you gawking? Probably. “Are you lost?”
“…No. No I’m…looking for something to buy…” you forced your eyes to leave his face.
“Something in particular?” he pressed.
Your eyes met his and you blushed. “No.” you admitted.
He laughed softly. “My name is Nelaros. Might I interest you in a ring?” he offered.
“Um..sure.” you said. Beneath a bit of silk, Nelaros revealed a glimmering ring of blue steel. “..Wow.” you murmured.
“It’s made of lyrium. I found it on my travels. Would you like it?” Nelaros asked. The way the glitter danced on the band, it was hypnotizing really.
“..Okay,” you agreed, handing him a sovereign. Nelaros blinked at the gold coin blankly as you slipped the ring onto your finger. “What?” you asked.
“This…is kind…but too much. I don’t want you to get in trouble with your master. 20 silvers will do.” Nelaros answered offering it back.
“I only have sovereigns.” You said.
Nelaros sat forward. “Who’s your master?” he practically whispered.
“I am.” Answered an unfamiliar male voice. A lump instantly lodged in your throat as you felt something sharp prick your side. Glancing up, you saw a human looming over you, his tan face smooth except for his angular cheekbones. His eyes weren’t quite as dark as his hair, though they gleamed as if he were telling a joke. “Now. Give Master Daveth the rest of your coin.” His accent curled as he gently pressed his dagger against your waist.
Your eyes darted to Nelaros who must have seen the fear on your face. “You’re not her master….you VILLIAN!” he accused.
“Let’s not get personal. Otherwise I may be tempted to call you something nasty too.” Daveth replied. He slouched down inches from your cheek. “You going to keep me waiting? I don’t want to hurt you but I will. I’ve been living off coppers. Now give me the gold.” He held his free hand out and you hesitantly dropped your remaining sovereigns into his palm. “There’s a good girl. It’s a shame I’m not more of a bastard than I am otherwise…”
“You’d have your way with her?” laughed Taliesan.
Daveth dropped his dagger as he glanced backwards. At the mouth of the alleyway was Zevran and Tal. On instinct alone, you smacked Daveth’s hand while he was distracted and the sovereigns went flying. “Hey you dirty…!” Daveth trailed off and it wasn’t until you had recaptured the gold that you saw why. Zevran had him pressed against the wall with a sword beneath his chin. Zevran made a tsking noise while Daveth’s eyes traveled to Taliesan.
“You just gonna stand there?” Daveth laughed “Did our friendship mean nothing?”
“Friendship’s a bit much don’t you think?” Taliesan replied.
“Friend or no,” spoke up Zevran. “You picked the wrong target today.”
“Yeah I see that.” Daveth agreed. “She yours then? Might want to keep her close. Lesser VILLIANS,” Daveth’s eyes jumped to Nelaros. “than I, would’ve taken advantage of her all alone.”
“She wasn’t supposed to be alone,” Zevran mused glancing at you. “Where is Jowan and his loud-mouthed friend?”
“They…had to take care of something.” You said.
Taliesan glanced out of the alleyway. “Did it involve getting captured by chance?” he asked.
“What?!” you blurted hurrying to his side. Passing Glassric’s corner, were a trope of soldiers in shimmering silver armor. In the midst of them were Jowan and Anders, their hands clasped in irons.
“Templars.” Zevran breathed.
“They’re screwed.” Daveth said.
“I don’t understand why aren’t they using their magic?” you murmured to yourself.
“Don’t you know anything?” Taliesan sneered.
“Templars know tricks of their own to drain mage’s powers.” Zevran explained.
Your eyes darted to them briefly than you ran forward. “Anders, Jowan!” you called. Jowan paused but one of the templars pushed his shoulder, urging him forward.
“Cullen?” Anders called to the templar in front. “She’s my girl, can I have a moment to say goodbye?”
You paused a foot away from them as Cullen seemed to consider. His tan hair was short and curly, his features hard. “I don’t know…” he hummed.
“Oh c’mon, what if it was…?” Anders began.
“Fine!” Cullen cut in, coming to a stop. “2 minutes.”
A smirk outlined Anders’s lips as he stepped towards you, a templar securely holding onto one of his arms. “What…did Namaya betray you?” you stammered.
“Yes,” Anders sighed, taking your hands in his. “I should’ve suspected as much.” Jowan scoffed in the background. “But no matter, everything’s…” he began leaning in. “Going to be alright.” He whispered his mouth inches from yours. His left eye closed in a wink, then his gaze traveled down to your hands. Frowning, you didn’t notice what was missing until the templar holding him yanked him backwards and you caught a glimpse of glittering steel between Anders fingers. The lyrium ring! What had Anders said?…. /“Lyrium runs in our very veins! It’s just sometimes we need a boost to get the magic going.”/ The next moment Anders exploded into a swarm of bees. You gasped as the templars drew their swords; Jowan took this opportunity to grab the sword of the templar holding him and drive it into another templar’s jugular. The swarm of Anders buzzed harshly around the templars closest to Jowan, keeping them from attacking as Jowan claimed the sword. Jowan slit the blade across his palm causing a haze of blood to shower down on him. Raising both hands a burst of energy coursed out in a circle blasting down everyone close by – templar and city guard alike. With that, Jowan and the swarm of Anders rushed out the city entrance.
“Well,” Daveth’s voice made you jump. “There’s something you don’t see everyday..”
“Good riddance I say,” Taliesan replied. “Let’s check into The Crown and The Lion. I want some fun before I have to travel back to Antiva. Alone.”
“Don’t be like that Taliesan,” Zevran said, turning you in the opposite direction of Jowan and Anders. “You’re more than welcome to assist me in this assassination too.”
“Oh but that would interfere with your plans wouldn’t it?”
“Jealousy is such an unflattering form…”
You barely heard the rest of what was said. It was a dull noise in the back of your mind as you tried to come to terms with what you had seen. Truth be told, you thought Anders might kill someone before Jowan. But Jowan had killed that templar so easily….and Anders…exploding into bees…how in the Maker’s name had he done that? You were dimly aware of being led into a tavern lit by a blaring fireplace, the smell of alcohol prickling your nose. Next thing you knew, you were sitting on a bed with Zevran studying your face.
“Are you alright? You’ve been quiet. Moreso than usual.” He told you.
“…I’m fine…just…what happened…” you stammered.
“Mm was quite a sight wasn’t it?” Zevran mused, slinging his swords onto a table.
“Yet you don’t seem surprised.” You noted.
A weak smile bit at his lips. “Part of being an Antivan Crow I’m afraid. ‘To show surprise is to submit to your own demise’ is how the saying went. If something in the midst of an assassination surprises you, your response must be one of readiness to fight not widening of eyes.” Zevran explained.
“….I shoulda went after them…” you murmured.
“I think we are better off without them.” Zevran said, sitting in a chair to take off his boots.
“…’We’ or me?” you challenged.
Zevran glanced at you then smirked. Pushing himself to his feet, Zevran chose to sit beside you. “So I want you all to myself….is that so bad?” he asked.
You avoided eyecontact as you asked: “So Taliesan’s leaving?”
“Yes,” Zevran sighed. “It’s for the best, he’s been behaving like a child since you came along.”
“You mean he doesn’t always act that way?”
“Ah-haha…on the rare occasion.”
“Did the Dark Wolf tell you where your next target is?” you asked. Zevran studied you silently but nodded. “Who is it?”
“I could tell you but where would the fun be in that?” Zevran replied. “All you need to know is,” his voice turned softer as he leaned in. “we leave for the forest in the morning.” His hand gently coupled with your face as his lips met yours. He pulled away before you could kiss back. “Now, I am going to bathe myself. Feel free to join in.” Zev announced, leaving your line of sight.
Your cheeks blazed, muscles tensing. “Should I go to my room?” you asked.
“Taliesan only bought two.” Zevran answered. Glancing over your shoulder, you glimpsed two circular tattoos on his buttocks as he stepped into the tin bath. “He assumed that was all we needed.” Zev continued as you averted your gaze to the carpet. “…Was he wrong?” he finished.
“Maker I hope so,” greeted Jowan, outlined in the doorway.
“Ah the blood mage returns to us. Where is your flying friend?” Zevran replied.
“Anders wants to see you ~~~~~~~~~~. He’s not doing so well.” Jowan said.
“What do you mean?” you murmured.
“Just come with me, please.” Jowan pressed.
You cast a backward glance at Zevran. The vapors of the hot water showcased his rippled chest. “Don’t let me stop you.” He responded.
You followed Jowan into the tavern’s hallway, a wide but short space. “I thought you had left the city,” you said, glancing at two bookcases niched along the wall.
“And have the templars right behind us?” Jowan laughed as he led you into the back room. “No. We were going to wait a bit…but now…with Anders condition…”
Your eyes barely took in the countless barrels of ale on either side of you. “Will he be okay?” you asked.
Jowan faced you. “In time….hopefully.” he answered. Kneeling on the boarded floor, he pushed aside some crates to reveal a wooden door. Grasping the handle, he swung it upwards, revealing a dimly lit space. “Come on,” he urged, lowering himself into it.

Jowan held a fistful of lighting to fight the shadows of the curving path.
“What is this place?” you asked.
“An underground cave.”
“Beneath a tavern?”
“The smugglers built themselves a nice place of business.” Jowan informed.
“Smugglers?” you repeated.
“We gave them the rest of the sovereigns to let us stay here until Anders is well enough to travel.” Jowan replied, extinguishing the lighting as the path finally opened up. The ceiling was low and the angled walls were stuffed with barrels of ale. Leading out of this room, was the cave itself, where water in all its blue glory lapped peacefully beneath overhanging rock. The rock was split in the middle, allowing sunlight to stream down onto the docks. Something brushed against your leg and you shrieked realizing it was a rat. Jowan instantly shushed you as a band of men near the water, glanced in your direction. He held up a sheepish hand in greeting, than grabbed yours and tugged you past a heap of stolen goods. You had been so busy staring out at the cave, that you hadn’t noticed a large fire burning at the base of a small structure. At first you thought the smugglers had stolen a library, then you saw an empty bookcase beside the fire tub of fire and realized they were merely using the books as fuel. Jowan led you up a few stairs and there between two small peculiar statues, was the slumped form of Anders.
“Maker…” you whispered. Anders’s face was cracked in several places, dried blood marking the trails. His robes were badly tattered, the cracks on his hands deeper than those on his face. It looked as if one touch would cause him to shatter.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Anders said. “Now you can track down Morrigan and tell her I’m all BROKEN UP about what she taught us.”
“Who’s Morrigan?” you asked glancing at Jowan.
“She was the witch we met in the Korkai Wilds. She taught us to shapeshift.” Jowan explained.
“Only she failed to mention, the side-effects of turning into a swarm.” Anders scowled.
“He cant heal himself and no amount of health poultices have worked.” Jowan added.
“Cant you heal him?” you asked.
Jowan opened his mouth but Anders spoke: “He could’ve, if he had bothered to learn how to become a spirit healer!”
“I’m a blood mage! Learning that kind of magic could’ve seriously tampered with…”
“Oh shut up! I don’t want to hear it….Again.”
“I’M SORRY but it’s not my fault.” Jowan said.
“I know,” Anders sighed. “But it feels good to blame someone…”
“What about Namaya?” you blurted.
Anders tilted his head. “So you were jealous.” He noted.
“I…”
“Come on then, give the dying mage a hug.”
“You’re not dying,” Jowan said as Anders roped you into his arms.
“I’m not getting any better either.” Anders replied, delicately resting his chin on your shoulder.
“There must be a way to fix you…” you murmured, staring at his cracked fingers secured around your wrists.
“I may know of a way…” Zevran spoke up.
“Oh Maker no…” Anders complained, burying his head in your back.
“As you wish.” Zevran replied, crossing his arms. You sensed Anders’s leer though you couldn’t quite see it.
“Tell us, please.” Jowan pressed.
“There is a spirit healer…” Zevran began.
“How long have you been down here?” Anders interrupted.
“…named Wynne,” Zev continued. “The best at her craft so I hear. She travels with the Commander Of The Grey.”
“The Grey Warden Commander?” Anders laughed. “And you know this how?”
“The Dark Wolf. You see one of her companions is my next target. The Dark Wolf warned of Wynne being a problem.” Zevran explained.
“So you’re offering to take us along for your next assassination, is that it?” Anders pressed.
“That is it exactly. You get to be healed and I get to kill who I am sent to kill. A win-win no?”
“Who have you been sent to kill?”
“That information is on a need-to-know basis I’m afraid.” Zevran said as a Maburi came up to you.
“Riiight.” Anders hummed as you stared at the Maburi curiously. It looked familiar somehow….
“What makes you think we wont try to stop you from killing whoever it is you’re supposed to?” Jowan asked. The Maburi began to bark.
“Nothing, but it doesn’t matter. If I wished to kill you, I would do so without you even knowing it.” Zevran answered. The Maburi continued to bark although it retreated a bit.
“I thought you said poisons were for amateurs.” Anders sneered.
As your eyes followed the dog, a familiar face ran into view, a bow in hand. His name left your mouth in a whisper “Nathaniel.” When the smugglers saw him, a few started charging at him while others grabbed bows of their own. Nathaniel fired arrow after arrow, and each impaled a smuggler either in the face, stomach or leg. Suddenly Nathaniel turned his bow in your direction and released another arrow.
“Brushadug!” Zevran cursed as he ducked out of the way.
“This is not good.” Anders added as Nathaniel started forward with a determination blazing on his face.
“We have to get out of here!” Jowan said grabbing and jerking Anders’s arm causing you to sprawl. You felt paws on your back and a rumbling growl from the Maburi.
“Not so…AH!” Anders cried and you glanced up just in time to see the skin on his hand fall off as the Maburi’s teeth retracted from his wrist.
“Leave her! We have to ACK!” Jowan cried as an arrow pierced his shoulder. His face started to transform despite another arrow landing in his stomach. A black bear stood in his place and it wasted no time hoisting Anders onto its back and running off.
“After them Hannibal!” Nathaniel ordered. You winced as the Maburi lunged off you, its barks growing distant as it ran. Before you could get up, Nathaniel pushed his boot against your side, rolling you onto your back. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared up at the tip of Nathaniel’s arrow, mere inches from your face. “I want to know why…”
“What?” you whispered.
“Why’d you do it? Why’d you let that elf assassinate my father?” Nathaniel asked, anger dripping from every word.
“N-Nathaniel…”
“ANSWER ME!”
You flinched at the venom in his shout. “Y-Y-Your father…was an evil man Nathaniel…” Your eyes closed as the bow tightened. “He h-had Fergus Cousland’s family killed!”
“You lie.” Nathaniel said simply.
“N-No! Zevran said Fergus was the one who hired him…” you insisted.
“Fergus and I have had our differences, but he would never do such a thing….without reason…” Nathaniel responded.
Zevran appeared out of thin air, a dagger pressed against Nathaniel’s throat. “Indeed he wouldn’t.” he agreed.
Nathaniel seemed to hesitantly relax, lowering the bow…the next instant he grabbed Zevran’s dagger while slamming his elbow into his face. Zevran staggered while Nathaniel threw the bow aside with a whistle. The Maburi came charging, tackling Zevran with such force that you heard his skull crack against the ground.
“Nathaniel no!” you cried jumping to your feet.
Nathaniel pointed the dagger at you. “Stay out of this cur.” He warned. “Hannibal! Shred.” He instructed, with a backwards glance at the Maburi. The hound’s claws began to tear into Zevran’s chest making easy work of the leather armor he wore.
“No-!” The tip of Nathaniel’s dagger found the crevice of your throat and lingered there.
You were forced to stand there and watch as the Maburi’s claws turned Zevran’s chest into ribbons.
“Stop.” Nathaniel ordered. The Maburi did as he said, and turning slightly, Nathaniel dropped a health poultice onto Zevran’s chest. Relief began to wash over you as Zevran’s chest healed. “Again.” Nathaniel instructed. The Maburi shredded into Zevran anew.
“No!” Nathaniel rounded on you, his free hand closing around your throat and lifting you into the air. Your fingers dug into his arm uselessly, your eyes frozen in his. For the first time, Nathaniel looked exactly like Howe, his face set in a horrible scowl. Your mouth gaped open as he increased the pressure on his chokehold. But suddenly Nathaniel’s body jerked as he blinked, and you could see he was back to himself. “H-Hannibal, stop.” He said hoarsely, lowering you to the ground. The Maburi grumbled but did as it was told. Releasing you, Nathaniel just stared at you blankly for a minute, then slowly turned and splashed Zevran with another health poultice. “Get out..of here…” he said, though it sounded like it hurt him to do so.
“Don’t mind if we do.” Spoke up Taliesan, appearing beside you.
“Wha-Nathaniel!” you cried as you saw him buckle to his knees, blood soaking the stomach of his armor. The Maburi let out a wicked howl and lunged for Taliesan, who slit the dog’s throat without moving an inch. Your eyes jumped from the dog to Nathaniel who had fallen face-first, his eyes open and unmoving. “…Maker…” you whispered.
“Yes, yes, it’s all very sad.” Taliesan replied, helping Zevran to his feet. “Let’s get out of here shall we?”