Zevran's Duel
I
“How do you feel, knife ears? Willing to fold now?”
“Not yet, Francois. I still got a little fight left.”
“There Zev! What do you say now? I’ll take that gold then.”
“Huh, alright Francois. You’re lucky I decided to bet low for this game. Your win but also mine as well.”
“Sure. Dress it up however you want my little Antivan knife ears. You lose. I win.” He laughed while tossing about his newly won bag of coins. Zevran smiled back at him awkwardly. Even in defeat, one must show humility and charm. He had the latter but he was unsure about the former. He sat there spinning a knife within his fingers and watching the patrons of the Blooming Rose come and go. Here he was in the heart of Ferelden in a dingy brothel with a light coin purse while staying in a country unknown to him. He groaned. Not a good contract in sight since coming here. As he sat there, he missed the fresh sights and smells of Antiva. The food, the sculptures, architecture, the…leather? The leather was what he appeared to fixate on the most. Zevran did not know why but he didn’t care. He was lost in pleasant thought. As he twirled his dagger and boredly thumped his finger against the table, a sudden tap on the shoulder brought him to his senses. Zevran turned around to see only a man wearing a long flowing robe and hood obscuring his face. He watched as his hand slid a piece of worn paper across the table into his view. Without another word, the man was gone and all of Zevran’s attention was turned to the note in front of him.
I couldn’t help but observe your progress since you arrived in this city. I am aware you are in need of some work. In that case, here is your mark:
Lord Alwin de Barbo, connected to a gang of pirates
Seek out David Auclair. He shall give you his whereabouts. You can find him at the Blooming Rose. Ask Maria the proprietor. She will tell you more.
---I
At once Zevran stood to his feet. In a couple of seconds he had already folded the sheet of paper and stuffed it into his pocket. His hand ran quickly across the hilt of his blade. He turned his attention towards a young woman with brown hair tied up in a bun. Must be Maria he thought. But as he approached, he did not pause to think about or consider any other possibilities. What if this was a trap to have the guards called on him? What if this elusive ‘I’ who had written to him was really part of an elaborate plan to assassinate him? Zevran in his brief career as an assassin had made plenty of enemies. Though mostly in Antiva, he could certainly imagine word had spread fast of his exploits. Yet this was not what he was thinking. In a country he did not know, speaking in a language that he knew was foreign to the natives here, and with a purse as light as a beggar’s coin plate he refused to question the situation. He needed that gold above all else.
“Hello my dear lady.” Zevran said, trying his best to be smooth despite overwhelming nervousness. “I’m looking for David Auclair. I’d like to speak with him.”
“Dave, hmm?” Maria replied. “He’s in with one of his regular girls and shan’t be available for a while. But if you like I can pass on a message to him if you’d like.”
“Please do.”
“Mmm hmm..What’s your name?” Maria politely asked.
“Vincento Natale.” Zevran replied whilst projecting a demeanor and veneer of confidence. As Maria jotted down his information, he could swear he saw her eyes rolling in a fit of sarcasm.
“Please take a seat, Lord Natale. David Auclair will not be long.” What began as half a minute became two and what was two minutes slowly became another hour. And while he waited outside impatiently, the venereal yells of satisfaction grew louder; near deafening Zevran at times. Soon the door opened and out walked a half-naked elven woman covering her privates with a towel. As she left the room, she avoided eye contact with Zevran. After taking a quick glance at her partially covered posterior, he walked inside closing the door behind him. David Auclair lay on his back against the bed partially dressed up to his torso.
“Well, well Vincento Natale…You don’t look much like the Antivan king.” He said.
“You’re not that bright aren’t you?” Zevran quipped back. “but no matter. I was told you could help me with a contract of mine.”
“Oh sure. Once you establish a reputation as one of the best spymasters within good King Cailan’s army and suddenly everyone comes to you for information. Oh ser Auclair, I can’t find my husband! He may have been taken by darkspawn! Oh ser Auclair, I lost my toy griffon! Could you help me find it? Oh ser Auclair, I can’t seem to find my knickers! Could you help me find them?” Zevran smirked to himself for he knew what the man was indicating. He sat back up and placed a pipe within his lips.
“Cute. I’m looking for Lord Alwin de Barbo. Are you going to tell me or shall you be looking for something else today?”
“Can’t rightly say. I could say the same about you and the curious euphemism you just used now.”
“How about I propose something instead, ser Auclair?” Zevran said, pressing himself up against wall and folding his arms. “I need to find this individual. You can guess why. You likely need some gold and for that I am willing to pay you.”
“Don’t try to buy me.” Auclair replied gruffly. “I’ve seen you around the Rose. You’ve lost nearly all matches you’ve taken a part in. You could barely pay a beggar with what you’ve got now. Besides, I wouldn’t accept your gold in any other circumstance.”
“Then tell me what you would accept.”
“Barbo has a necklace in his possession. He wears it around his neck to spite me, I swear. If you can get that back, consider that your contribution to me as my information is for you.”
“That’s all? Quite underwhelming now that you mention it.”
“It was my daughter’s. Bastard stole it from me. By the Maker, it’s been too long since I last saw her. I just hope she’s alright.”
“I shall do as you command.” With that Zevran quietly ushered himself out of the room and out of the Blooming Rose establishment. As he walked towards the entrance, he passed by the same hooded individual who gave him the note.
“On your way to deal with that contract?” the stranger said. Zevran stopped in his tracks, surprised at the very feminine pitch and tone of the stranger. He nodded his head without turning around.
“You’d be making a mistake there I fear.” The stranger walked in front of him and pulled of their hood. As they revealed their face to Zevran, he was met with the beautiful appearance of a dark skinned woman with long black hair.
“And you wouldn’t mind if I asked you why that is?”
“Oh my, I seemed to have completely forgotten my manners for a moment! Silly me forgot to introduce myself to you! Isabella, at your service.”
“Zevran Aranai. Now answer the question.”
“Huh, you take all the fun out of this part. Alwin de Barbo. That is your target no? He’s actually my husband.”
“Then why would you assign me a contract to kill him in the first place?”
“Now now, Zevran. I can’t reveal all my secrets now can I? I just stopped you to say you’d be making quite the enemy if you go through with this. Alwins on board the ship, the River Dane in case you’re still interested.” Isabella pulled on her hood and walked out, shutting the door behind her.
II
Zevran did not know what to think about Isabella. He thought about his last and first encounter with her while observing the ship, the River Dane; currently docked in the Denerim Harbor. He had no idea what to feel about her. Someone who set a contract on her own husband yet tried to warn him away from the job. She maintained an air of elusiveness but revealed herself at the last minute. He twirled the hilt of his knife in between his fingers as he continued watching the ship. His eyes scanned the area around him as he looked around for any sign of Alwin de Barbo. Night soon fell and the streets began to empty. Soon there was no one else present aside from the occasional sailor and night time guard on duty. Zevran proceeded towards the River Dane, clutching the hilt of his blade. He was stopped in his tracks by a gruff voiced pirate. His chest was covered in tattoos and his large drink pleasured belly was very noticeable.
“Don’ recognize you. You don’ look like one o’ Alwin’s men.”
“No, I’m not. I would like to meet with him if you didn’t mind.”
“On’y thing that Alwin expects to meet is a whore all done up in lacey garments or a bag o’ soddin’ gold.”
“Ah, I was expecting you’d say that.” Zevran drew his dagger pierced the man’s large belly. The pirate screamed and moaned in agonized pain. His hand held the short blade Zevran had sunk into his flesh. As blood began to soak out from his gaping wound, Zevran threw his weak body off-shore into the sea below. The cry of the pirate caught the attention of the other crew members on board. They all came streaming out, armed with swords, hooks, and bows. As soon as Zevran stepped foot on board the ship’s main deck, he was surrounded and circled by Alwin’s crew. His hand reached for his sword. He pulled it out and faced it towards the vile fiends. It glimmered in the light of the moon. Zevran stretched back his sword arm and positioned his feet in the correct manner. He spun around slowly, still holding his blade whilst watching the pose and stances of his opponents. “This is what I’m paid for! Let’s dance!” Zevran thrust forward and locked blades with one of the pirates while holding off another with his dagger. After kicked his leg forwards, knocking the blade locked pirate back, he cut, stabbed and slashed in such a flurry of attacks he took the man off guard. Finally he cut across the man’s chest and head. And as his now lifeless body dropped to the floor, Zevran turned his attention to the rest of the mob. He moved himself appropriately into position, slowly swinging his blade and watching the moves of his remaining opponents. His eyes darted about within his skull as they moved from one pirate to the next. With a movement that one might consider ‘a shot in the dark’ Zevran struck with his blade at the leg of one pirate, chopping it off with such force that it left him to bleed out and die as the fight continued. There were now four left. Zevran fought on, blocking, defending and attacking from all attacks sent his way. He stabbed and thrust forward thus locking blades with another pirate. As he reached with his dagger towards the man’s stomach, he felt a great fiery pain in his back. He fell to his knees clutching his wound. He had been cut across the back. Groaning violently and breathing heavily, Zevran pushed himself to his knees. By this point in the fight, he had become heavily fatigued. His grip was starting to loosen on his blade and his feet had become lighter. It took every ounce of his strength to push himself back to his feet. He had to finish the fight he had begun. The final three pirates now remained. Despite his tired and weakened state Zevran still managed to hold his own during the fight. After chopping off the head of the first pirate, he stabbed his blade into the second man. After pulling it out, he was now face to face with the final pirate. Both men, now tired, fatigued and wounded stared each other down. Despite his back wound and his tired legs clearly stumbling over each other, he lifted his sword up towards the face of the last man and continued the fight. Zevran struck first slowly only to have his attack deflected. The two men circled each other like two lions fighting over the same meal. The man charged forwards with a flurry of attacks, all expertly blocked by Zevran: one by one. Zevran’s face during the duel was mostly muted yet his mind was racing with anxiety. The man’s face was fuming with anger. He grunted vehemently as his fist wrapped even tighter around his sword. Without thinking he charged towards Zevran, screaming at the top of his lungs and suddenly silence. Zevran had stabbed his sword through his chest. While tiredly leaning against a railing, clutching his back; he watched his final opponent limp backward with a sword hilt sticking out of his chest. Blood bubbled from his mouth. He choked, coughed and struggled to let out words as breathing became far more difficult. Finally he collapsed and fell on his side. Slowly but surely Zevran approached the corpse and pulled out his blade. It was soaked in blood. At once, Zevran’s big moment of triumph was interrupted by a low commanding voice.
“You seem to have quite a way with a blade. But did you have to cut through my men to prove it?” the man called out.
“What can I say?” Zevran panted. “I can never resist a good challenge.”
“Clearly.”
“I’m assuming you aren’t going to put up as much of a fight as your men here? I’m wounded and tired and could use a good night’s sleep at the Blooming Rose.”
“Now why would I? I am no fighter. Kill me and you would be killing a well respected arl. You’d be hunted all over Ferelden. Not even Antiva could hide you. The Antivan Crows would be hired to hunt you down. Even to the ends of Thedas itself.”
“Hmm…You’re making me regret this choice. But you are forgetting something.”
“What would that be, you little elven fool?” Alwin could not finish his sentence in that moment. Before he could speak, Zevran had already stabbed a knife through his neck. Choking and drowning in his own blood, he watched Zevran who was now staring him in the eye.
“I am a member of the Crows.” With a look of horror, Alwin breathed his last and collapsed to the deck of the ship. Panting and breathing heavily, he smiled in tired satisfaction and sheathed his blade. He knelt down by Alwin’s body and observed the necklace hanging on his neck. The light of the moon was caught in the reflection of the jewel inside. He gently pulled it off and placed it in his pocket.
III
The streets of Denerim appeared so silent at night. Zevran walked past the empty stores and stalls, as silent as mice. As he returned to the front doors of the Blooming Rose, Zevran pressed his hand up against his back , wincing in pain as he pushed open the door. Once he returned he was greeted by Isabella, pressing her foot against the wall with her arms folded. She was smiling at him coyly.
“Well well, Zevran. I wasn’t expecting you’d be as successful as you were.”
“Child’s play, Isabella.” Zevran replied. “I’ve handled far worse contracts.”
“I hear Lord Alwin de Barbo met an unfortunate end.”
“Mm hmm?”
“You know what I’ll do, right?” Isabella asked, cracking a smile. “Not that he didn’t deserve it but bloody hell he had a damn fine ship.
“You don’t have to tell me twice.”
“Did you by any chance stumble across a necklace in that old codger’s corpse?” Zevran pulled the beautiful jewelry out of his pocket, presenting it proudly towards Isabella who snatched it out of his hand in seconds.
“I was supposed to give it to Auclair.”
“And who did he say it belonged to my dear Zevvie poo?”
“His daughter. But this was my job, not yours.”
“I see. But no offense Zevran, I would like to present the gift to Auclair personally. My relationship happens to be closer to the man if you know what I’m saying.”
“I see. Think I know.” Zevran said under his breath.
“Well said Zevran.” Isabella reached for her blade and unsheathed it in front of him. She let the blade lightly stroke the tip of his nose. Zevran looked back and returned her smile.
“Can we take this outside Isabella? We wouldn’t want to hurt any innocent onlookers.”
“As you wish. If you beat me, I’ll give you anything you desire.”
“Sounds wonderful.” Zevran replied, closing the door behind him. The two fighters positioned themselves on the cobblestone floor. Zevran swung his blade out of its sheath and twirled it in a smooth figure eight. Isabella narrowed her eyes and began to stare down her opponent and as she drew her sword, she proudly presented it to Zevran.
“En garde, Ser Aranai.”
“The same to you, my dear lady.” He had never experienced a better Fereldan night….
