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Names slip through the elf man’s clenched teeth, but not the names they’re looking for.
It’s been almost a year since the Exalted Council, and this is the only lead Bull and the chargers have found so far.
The agent of Fen'harel scowls up at Iron bull as he towers over him, his valaslin distorted by the frown lines in his forehead.
The only sounds that fill the air are the prisoner’s heavy breaths and the echo of Skyholds dungeon.
Bull wordlessly picks up the chained elf with one hand as if he weighs no more than a pint of ale.
The agent kicks and protests to no avail, Bull’s grip sure as stone.
“If you won’t give us anything worthwhile, we’re done talking,” his voice firm but uncharacteristically soft for a Qunari.
Iron Bull gently tosses the agent in a cell. The prisoner trips over his own chains and stumbles to the stone floor.
Bull kneels and begins to remove the elf’s chains, ignoring his spitting words, “Fen'Harel ma halam Qunari.” He tries to yank the chain from Bull’s hands and sneers,” Dirthara-ma din’an.”
At that Bull looks over his shoulder to the Inquisitor.
She stands in the center of the jail room, hood covering her pointed ears and naked face.
The inquisitor just shakes her head, “They’ve just cursed you and wish you death.”
Bull raises a brow, “Ahh, that’s cute.” He takes the chains and slams the cell door shut.
Bull tosses the chains aside and nods at two of his chargers, Grim and Dalish. They’ll guard the prisoner and let Bull know if he relinquishes any more information.
The Inquisitor is already ascending the stairs.
Bull catches up giving her a sidelong glance, “He seems new to the whole ‘spy’ thing. A few days of isolation and he should start talking.”
She stops and her mouth forms a thin line. “Not a fan of my interrogation tactics Boss?”
She turns to him and lets out a breath, “No bull, I- Thank you. I am grateful you didn’t torture him.”
Slowing her steps to a stop and looks at Iron Bull with knit brows.
“The agent had this,” Her voice waivers as she hands him an unfolded note.
Bull frowns. There in Solas’ neat writing: “Pawn to E4”