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“Did you hear the rumours? The head of the new Inquisition is some bat face,” a man told his colleague.
“I did! They’re saying it’s a Dalish,” the woman added.
“One of those savages? Unbelievable. South is such a joke,” the man laughed.
The two humans kept gossiping, making fun of the Inquisitor and what trouble the South could possibly be facing; not aware they were being watched. In the shadows, a young elf was listening to them attentively.
“A Dalish at the head of such important institution?” They whispered to themselves.
With a sly smile, they went back on their track. They definitely had to share this news. They walked to an infamous tavern, in which they knew a friend of them could be found drinking. And they were right. In a corner of the room was a young man with a thick beard completely wasted.
“Did you hear the rumours, Baltasar? About the Inquisitor?” They asked him, taking his beer from his hand. “It’s an elf,” they added sitting in front of him.
“Why should I care, Mis’? Gimme that thing back,” Baltasar groaned trying to reach his drink.
“South allowed a heretic to serve their Chantry,” they added, drinking the beer in one shot.
“You bastard,” Baltasar groaned in frustration. “A heretic you said? Dalish?”
They quickly nodded as they added: “Things are changing.”
“And so what, Mis’? Why should Minrathous cares about South’s politics?” Baltasar said, while trying to get the attention of the waitress.
“Either we like it or not, it will end up impacting the North. Sooner or later.”
“Mis’…” Baltasar sighed “I know you dream of rebellion, but it is what it is, a dream.”
The elf sighed in defeat. That drunkard was so pessimistic, the Maker could stand before him that he would call them all doomed.
“You should listen to you to your friend, little man,” some feminine voice said.
Baltasar frowned his brows as he turned angrily at her: “What did you call me, you hag?”
The woman with white hair laughed quietly as she sat at their table. It was an elf and, judging by her fancy clothes, either a Liberati or a foreigner. She emanated some kind of mystic energy. She had be a mage.
“I said, you should listen to your friend,” she repeated, turning toward the young elf.
“My name is Misuin,” they instinctively said.
“Such a beautiful name,” the woman said. “You may call me Maestitia.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Misuin politely said. “That ill-mannered dwarf is named Baltasar.”
“Half-dwarf,” he corrected them. “Knife ears.”
“Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“You both seem like close friends,” Maestitia observed. “It’s a good thing. You’ll need people who you can trust in the times to come.”
“Maestitia, do you know anything?” Muisin asked.
“Some things are better left unsaid,” Maestitia answered. “But worry not. I see great potential in you. If change is what you seek for our majestic Imperium, you may play your part.”
“Hold down there,” Baltasar cut her. “Why should we trust you in the first place?”
The woman smiled as she acknowledged he had a good point. She then took from under her dress a necklace. It was not any necklace, Misuin recognized its blazon. It was the mark of a magister’s house, a man known to ‘offer’ jewellery to his slaves. It was another way of showing he owned them, even if made Liberati. Unfortunately, Misuin could not remember the magister's name.
“You being a Liberati doesn’t change a thing,” Baltasar insisted. “You could still be working for him and try to lure us before enslaving us.”
“My intentions and upper motives are irrelevant,” Maestitia dismissed him as she turned to Misuin. “Besides, you do not need to trust me,” she said to them in a low voice. “What is happening in the South is only the beginning. Thedas will be reshaped in a way we cannot control. But it is up to us to make it a better place and to protect what matters,” she explained standing up. “Seek for a young man going by the name Ulixes among dragons in the shadow.”
Maestitia bowed her head as she walked out of the tavern, leaving the two young citizens perplex.
Misuin stayed silent, deeply lost in thoughts. They had to admit, this was a weird encounter. That woman surely was something one of her kind. Misuin never liked people speaking in enigmatic sentences.
“Crazy witch,” Baltasar spat as he ordered two beers. “I bet that Ulixes is gonna be the end of us if we ever seek him out.”
“Ulixes?” the waitress said as she was about to leave. “Magister Triconibus’s son?”
Baltasar gave her a weird eye as he asked her if she knew him.
“Well, I… I have to serve drinks,” she mumbled, leaving in hurry.
“A magister’s son… Told you, his name was screaming troubles.”
Ulixes Triconibus. Misuin never heard that name, not even once. Which seemed odd to them as listing to gossip was their number one hobby. Where did that woman said they had to seek him again?
“Wait,” Misuin said to the waitress as she served their beers. “We’re looking for something.”
The waitress stood awkwardly as Misuin thought about what to say next. The last thing Maestitia said had to be some kind of coded password. Baltasar confusingly glared at his friend, as they continued: “We’re looking for dragons in the shadow.”
As soon as she heard these words, the waitress sighed in relief: “You’re one of us. Should’ve said it from the start.” She leaned closer to them and whispered: “If it’s Ulixes you want to meet, wait in the backyard when the tavern closes. He’ll be there with the others.”
Misuin thanked the girl as they grabbed their drink.
“What in the hell Mis’?” Baltasar shouted as he took a sip of his own beer. “We’re not actually going to follow that lunatic’s advice?”
“You bet your ass, that’s actually what we’re doing.”
Misuin never felt this excited since childhood. They knew it. Sooner or later, the rebellion would strike. And they would play their part in it.