for fenris

[samahl]

Magister Anguis had once belonged to an impressive Tevinter household. Once upon a time, the name had had weight and power behind it. Now, though he still had the title of Magister, it was widely known that his house was deeply in debt. He had sold most of his estate and slaves in effort to save face, keeping only a small house close to the edge of the Starkhaven border and three slaves; one young maid, a footman, and his most prized possession, a Dalish elf whom he kept close to him nearly every moment.

The Dalish elf was called Cervi by the Magister but that was not the name given to him by his Clan. It had been years since he had been called his given name and though Cyril kept it in his heart he was rather protective of who knew it. The two other elven slaves who tended to the house were teenagers, Cassia and Viridi, and even they knew him only by the name their master had given him.

The summer of 9:40 Dragon had been remarkable so far because the south had been plunged to chaos since the Nevarran Accords had been annulled. They were at war, with mages and templars bring death and fire every where they went. That and the tensions between the Empress and her cousin had boiled over into a Civil War that ravaged the Dales.

Chaos in the South brought profit for Tevinter, and Master Anguis had wanted to take advantage of that. He had been so desperate to regain his family's standings that he had even crossed the border into Starkhaven. He allied himself with mercenaries turned slavers and preyed on those caught up in the chaos. He was so set in the idea of finding a fortune by selling the disenfranchised that he had even brought Cassia, Viridi, and 'Cervi' with him - ignoring the fact that technically once they crossed the border the three were technically no longer in bondage. To him they were property, and always would be.

The night was warm, but not nearly as hot as it would have been north of Vyrantium. Cyril was finishing up setting up a bath that he and Anguis would have shared. Cassia and Viridi were cleaning up in the kitchen after creating a modest meal for their master. The Magister was in his study going over papers that tracked the transportation of the slaves his men had found.

He had no idea that those men were now likely dead, nor that the one who had attacked them had found information on him and his location. No one in the house would have dared to believe that the Magister would not make it through the night.

Comments

[wolfuncaged]

It was a grim business, the duty Fenris had taken up since the fall of Kirkwall. For a long time, he had been lost. He rarely returned to the city- only to visit Aveline and Donnic, truly. There was little left in Kirkwall any more. But the chaos Anders' actions had wrought had made things worse for those who suffered the most, and finally, finally Fenris found a calling he could answer.

It was rare, during one of his raids of slavers, that he found the magister attached to them. Most stayed safe- in Tevinter, using proxies and puppets to carry out their terrible orders. They were never foolish enough to travel South. This one must be desperate.

He didn't care, of course. The slavers were quick to give up the man who paid them- when your life is on the line, loyalty is poor, and there is no honour amongst thieves. Fenris was just as quick to repay them with ending their lives. He never promised they could live if they told him what he wanted to know. And so, he found himself at the house the magister was staying at. This, at least, would be the end of one line. He was surprised by the lack of guards. It was either arrogance or poverty which kept the magister unguarded- he wasn't sure which, he didn't care, it would end the same either way.

He slipped into a window, silent, deadly, focused. It wasn't hard to find the magister. It was pathetically easy, in fact. Fenris had been spoiling for a fight and found nothing. It didn't matter. He didn't stop for gloating or an angry monologue. He surged forward, lyrium flashing, ending it with a gurgled scream from the man. He let the magister drop to the ground like a sack of potatoes, dropping the man's heart on top of him with a wet plop.

He tensed, listening- just in case there WERE guards. Or...well. Others. He'd have to deal with any slaves in the house. Sebastian could help there, at least HIS ties with the prince weren't completely rotten. Sebastian would help them. He was sure of it.