The house was as inconspicuous as expected. A small, old, two story building sitting in a dull part of Denerim that could never attract many visitors. Not unlike the house she and her accomplices used as their base when she first came to this city so many years ago, Huntress noticed. A typical residence expected to be rented by a not too successful foreign merchant, its only virtue was to provide those unscrupulous people a suitable cover to conduct their dark business. Alas, it did her old associates little good, as they were all dead in the end, only Huntress alone was permitted to live by Master. The current occupants will soon be sent the same way, by Huntress herself. The irony didn’t escape her.
The King had ordered the execution himself. “No need to bring him under arrest. Interrogate him if you must, Nini, but then dispose him as quietly as possible. Maker’s mercy, we already have enough scandals these days. We could do without the whole nation knowing the full story behind this one.” He said that while looking at Huntress with his weary, sad eyes, shaking his head. The King seemed to be greatly distressed and embarrassed, and in Huntress’ opinion, he should be, because he had just learned that without Huntress’ master, he couldn’t even keep his own home safe. In the corner of newly liberated royal kitchen, there collapsed a cook assistant and several other servants, hired one by one in recent months, by none other than the ailing Chancellor Eamon. All had been ruthlessly tortured by Huntress to extract the whereabout of their leader. The cook and another young man were mage so they did most damage, but Huntress’ wrath was equally shared by everyone. There was not too much life left in these broken bodies after Huntress was done with them. The King pretended he had seen and heard nothing.
Huntress didn’t think highly of King Alistair, always believed he was too soft, inclined to show ill-considered mercy when an iron fist should be firmly displayed, though she admitted his Theirin charm was endearing even to a woman like her, including his mildly annoying habit of occasionally calling her childhood nickname, something Huntress believed only Master was entitled to. That Alistair would choose to overlook Huntress’ bloody work and personally order no prisoner to be taken was a sign of growing tension in capital city these days, after the Redcliffe debacle, Haven’s destruction and The Elder One’s ascension. The fireballs thrown across the royal kitchen, which ruined most of his cheese supply, must contribute to his sour mood, too. Huntress wished nothing more than the safe return of Master, the only person who could take the helm when the kingdom entered such stormy waters, but first she had to help keep the ship afloat. That’s why she came to Denerim as soon as she received Sister Nightingale’s message. Master ordered her to cooperate with Nightingale, serving as the former bard's agent, and to look after Alistair and the young crown prince, so she did.
Suddenly the sound of a bird whistle alarmed Huntress, followed immediately by another whistle of a slightly different tone. Ser Gauld, a former templar serving as her second-in-command in this mission, gave a subtle nod. Huntress knew it indicated her scouts were in their positions and the house was completely surrounded. Good, that’s how a professional team should work. Huntress felt proud of her subordinates. As commander of Scouts she took two dozen of her best soldiers to Denerim. Though until now it proved a vast overkill, it was always better safe than sorry when you need to confront mages. Especially Tevinter ones.
With a hand signal from Huntress, Gauld moved forward to knock the door, holding his shield in ready with another hand. Meanwhile Huntress, two mages and another dalish archer covered him with drawn weapons. Huntress' bow was once committed by Emperor Kordillus Drakon I for his beloved wife, Empress Area, so they could ride into battle side by side and spread the Light of Maker to the world. It fell into Tevinter hands after one of those futile Orlesian Exalted Marches against Imperium. Over years, Huntress had used it to shoot many Orlesian agents in her service to Master. And now, after four hundred years, it once again drank heartily Tevinter blood. Another little irony failed to escape her notice.
Almost half minute passed, before the door opened with a whine of hinges, and a skinny man peeped from the dimness within. Curtains fell on every window of the house to keep sunlight out. With only weak, flickering candlelight providing the illumination, the ground floor of the house gave Huntress an ominous feeling as if some dark, unholy ritual was being held. It’s better not be blood magic sh*t.Huntress frowned. She hated nothing more than that evil art. A long time had passed since that dreadful afternoon. A lot of things had happened. She had worked with blood mages at Master's behest, and she knew even one of her best friends had dabbled in it. Hadn't that woman's blood magic enabled Master and King Alistair to overcome their sterility and conceive their child? Still, nothing good could really come out of it, since none other than blood magic itself did damage to them in the first place.
The skinny man obviously didn’t expect to see a group of angry, armed men and women gathering before the house. With a yelp he hastily tried to back away. Perhaps he was a mere servant, ignorant of his master’s plan, but Ser Gauld didn’t take chance. He brutally knocked his shield onto the other man’s face, sending him reeling and falling unconscious to the floor. Now the door was widely open, daylight poured in and Huntress could see the dimness inside was of not some sinister design, just ignorance. These men didn’t even bother to maintain the façade that house was used by a proper merchant. Huntress quickly checked the entrance one more time, but found no trap, either. Giving a disapproving grunt, she stepped into the room with Gauld. Either the Venatori was not as competent as rumors suggested, or The Elder One had such a low opinion of King Alistair and Chancellor Eamon that he only sent his most useless minions here.
Only then, several figures hurriedly ran down the steps from the second floor, with a half bald, merchant looking man in lead. One look at Huntress and her companions was enough to convince them to scurry toward the back door. Huntress didn’t pursue as there was no need. Soon afterwards, from that direction came the sound of explosions, the clangs that metal weapons hit each other, and desperate screams. Huntress found it hard not to smile. The Scouts of Silver Order was not reputed to be one of deadliest striking forces in Thedas for nothing, despite its short history. For her, there could be no greater joy than serving as its commander.
When the supposed merchant emerged again, he was alone and bleeding, his robe torn in several places. He stared at Huntress with an expression of cornered beast.
They look so alike. She thought.
“I demand explanation of this outrageous act!” The man shouted with a wildly artificial rage. “I know your country is inhibited by a horde of barbarians, but this is the capital! I expect protection from the City Guard, not robbed by you!”
Huntress watched his show with a blank expression. Only after several seconds did she reply with a cold voice. “By sending assassins into Royal Palace, you have committed a capital offense. The King has personally ordered your death. I could give you one minute to do that by yourself. Or I could help you, if you lack the courage.” Waiting another several heartbeats to let the meaning of her words sink in, she continued in Tevene. “And please drop your pretense of being a merchant, Magister Pelagius.”
The Magister almost dropped his jaw hearing her speak his native language, but in the same time, a shred of hope also appeared on his face. Extending both hands in a gesture of conciliation, he tried to maintain a haughty air, even as it’s not very successful. “Don’t be rash.” He warned. “You are a Tevinter, I can hear from your accent. You can’t be happily serving those dog lords, or that bastard king. Yes, I am a Magister, I am an important person, I have a seat in Imperial Senate! Let’s make a deal.”
“I don’t mind King Alistair very much, but my master cares about him, whatever his fault.” Huntress explained matter-of-factly. “Master will not be happy to know you try to hurt him and their child. And your men make a mess of Master’s kitchen. For that alone, the punishment is death, which means negotiation is now out of question.”
Perhaps Pelagius was really that dumb so Elder One couldn’t wait to get rid of him. Or perhaps he had a sublime confidence of his eloquence, because he didn’t stop blabbering. “I don’t care who your ‘master’ is, elf. Just let me leave, and I will make you a proud citizen of Imperium, I could give you a job in Minrathous Circle! You don’t need to stay in this dog land any longer!”
“A proud Imperial citizen? Or A glorious servant of Minrathous Circle? I heard all those craps long ago, from another Magister. And for a time, I genuinely believed them…” Huntress said in a reminiscent tone. Ah, good old days. As most nightmares, it began as a beautiful dream. “…until the day he used blood magic to sacrifice me. You talk like Caladrius, you even look like him. Are you a cousin?”
Now Huntress could see terror finally took a firm grip on Magister Pelagius, as he unconsciously stumbled several steps back. “You…You are her! You are Devera The Betrayer!” He cried out in fear.
“So they said. So they accused me of selling him to Fereldan Authority, in order to steal his money, right? For that, they sentenced me to die.” In absentia. By a Minrathous court, after the news about sad end of Caladrius’ misadventure reached home. A pathetic, last ditch attempt from his friends and family to justify his gross failure, to mollify the venture's angry investors, and to salvage something out of his tattered reputation. To Huntress, a final insult. Feeling the boiling anger inside her, Huntress squinted her eyes like a predator before launching the killing strike. “I didn’t betray him. I fought for him, I gave him my all, right to the moment he tried to kill me. After that, I wanted nothing more than breaking his neck. But he died too fast.” Moved by Huntress' suffering, Master forsook a big ransom and beheaded Caladrius without hesitation, before his infernal spell could suck all life force from her and leave her a consumed, empty husk, but Huntress could still remember the sharp pain. The pain of a thousand needles piecing her body, peeling off her soul piece by piece. Suppressing the nauseating memory with a deep breath, Huntress took a measured step forward and drew her dagger. “I guess you will have to do, for now.”
All composure vanished from Pelaguis’ face now. “Please, dear lady, I have money! A lot of! Just take them and let me go!” He waved his hands hysterically, as if he could produce coins out of thin air.
With a disgusted grin, Huntress took another step. “You call us barbarians, haven’t you? Then you must know our barbarian way is to kill you and take all your money, for free.”
Realizing he had no other option, Pelagius let out a guttural growl and began to intone some spell, but Gauld quickly hit him with a Holy Smite while Huntress’ mages drained his mana, leaving him collapse on the floor. There was nothing more for him to do. Other than scream.
And his screams were long and loud.
When all finished, Huntress heard Gauld asking curiously. “You have lived there many years, commander. Are all Tevinters so whiny and touchy?”
She chuckled. “Maker, no, lieutenant. Just Magisters. That’s why it feels so nice to murder them.”
