It had been some months that such a prominent target had required his attention.
In the early months of the new order it had been a daily occurrence, but now the Law of the Eyes had filtered down into the fabric of everyday life, infractions were rarer these days. Only fools decided to play games, especially now the name had landed across his desk.
It was easy to find this magister Giles. Their habits unchanged, exuding foolish defiance, undaunted by the consequences of their actions, their inability to adapt to the order of things. Mal inhaled deeply through his mask, eyes carefully studying his prey from the shadows with an air of boredom. This had to be his dullest hunt in a decade. Mal’s masked visage may as well be his true identity, it was rarely lowered outside of his own estate and the Archon’s presence. Even the guards at the entrance had tensed as he’d swept through hours earlier. It was not unknown that the Eyes were in attendance among the help, yet their lips remained tightly sealed from releasing that tit bit until necessary.
Everyone at the soiree seemed to know Giles was dead besides the soon to be corpse himself. Hiding himself had been pointless after that and Mal took to enjoying some short comfort in a chair, turned in a way that the gullible idiot would walk past into the room fully before noticing the Chancellor. Every extra minute that passed however, wore at Mal’s patience, the line of his brow growing heavier and deeper as this inconsiderate whelp took his sweet time and when he finally did, this was when Mal decided the roof was now the perfect place for their conversation to continue.
It was an easier way to dispose of the body too. One swift kick to the chest was all it took, Mal’s back turning on the idiot the moment he heard the crash and clang with the eventual heavy thud followed by a scream. Quickening his steps he’d traverse the rooftop to the far end, work his way down to ground level to mingle briefly with a gawking group of servants and gentry, seeming to have only just arrived before the awful events, simply awful... before enquiring about the ongoing soiree.
[color=#ff851b]“I always seem to arrive at these things at the worst time, honestly. No. I simply refuse to entertain this nonsense. Have them clear up the mess and let us enjoy the indoors, yes? I'm certain the servants will handle this promptly.” [/color]
Giles was foolish, even as he continued to converse with the young woman. She kept his attention, until she knew it'd thin the patience of the Chancellor. Particularly bratty, and amused with herself, she offered a wave towards Malachai as Giles finally left her.
She'd delivered the information on the fool; had become his favorite flirt, and almost-confidante. A dangerous game to play with her, when her loyalties were so far unaskewed from those that governed her.
And when it was done, she approached with a drink outstretched. 'tis like a curse, I'd say, her voice lilted over the murmur of those that gawked. But perhaps a dance will change your luck? She sipped from her own glass, as she held another to him, dark eyes sweeping across the gawkers.
Of course she’d catch his attention, not that he let it outwardly show while on the hunt. He was focused. Too focused on his work, those few in his inner circle would often comment, yet it was how the bastard Valentius had risen. His gaze passed through her gesture to the man behind, the jerk of his head a clear indication that Giles should follow. He’d deal with Novella later.
His reappearance was as casual as the sun rising, he towered over, brows raised in perfectly feigned innocence before adopting - only rightly - command of the situation. Guiding the sheep back inside through the doors, Mal’s gaze lingered on their backs before he addressed his progeny. Facing ahead the man took a deep inhale, holding it a second before expelling it evenly, Then he looked down at a boot, examining a slight wrinkle.
Frowning, he’d remark while reaching for the offered glass. [color=#e86e04]“A bastard owes me a new pair of boots. These were a gift”[/color] Was he bothered? Not particularly, but terrified people spent a lot of time staring at his shoes or boots, Mal had to set standards. Under the mask he suddenly smiled, finally setting his meticulous gaze on her, teasing her with, [color=#e86e04]“Oh? Are we repeating the time we tango’d in Seheron? I remember that day was very costly for the Qunari.”[/color]
Ah, well the dead cannot provide repariations, my Lord. She was easy-going with the chancellor, and eventually that easy-going nature passed to the onlookers, who quietly dispersed to their activities once more. As if nobody had died.
His smile was met with one of her own, and she raised her gaze to meet his, even with the mask in place. I'm not dressed to tango, I'm afraid. A waltz will suffice.
No-one in the crowd would have the same name for the young woman; she'd introduced herself twelve times over with a new name everytime. She was a ghost, as far as society cared. The Calidus family did not have this daughter to their name. But she blended in, like a chameleon forcing itself into the environment.
I must inquire about something my father has written about, she mused, as she found the dance-floor. Perhaps after our dance. Her father had written her; informed her she was to leave whatever posts she'd been assigned, to return home to the Calidus household. An enigma, a shadow upon her memory that ceased to exist after she'd been sent to the military.
[color=#ff851b]“No, what coin he has will go to funding the education of our youth and his assets seized and distributed accordingly. As is within the confines of the Law.”[/color] Unless he had a will, but so far Malachai’s investigation had resulted in nothing of note, nor much worth. Ignoring the dispersing sheep from around them, the Chancellor appraised his old student and colleague.
[color=#ff851b]“Pity. I do miss the old days, battle robes make for more comfortable attire than stuffy parties, but I will hold you to the alternative.”[/color] Anything to make this appearance as short as possible. His role was only to step out when needed, to apply pressure and ensure it was understood by all, that rules of Law protected them and no-one was beyond charge. Protect the status-quo.
Valentius had denied his son’s existence until his final few years of life, suddenly his legacy had meant something now that he was dying slowly. The mask had been inherited, worn since his days as a glorified babysitter and guardsman to the Archon Demetrius. At least the ‘Eye’s’ had proven interesting and challenging in ways he hadn’t scratched since his war-torn days.
With less wagging tongues around, Mal’s grin dropped back to a line of indifference, eyes rolling as she mentioned her kin. [color=#ff851b]“I do wish you would take up my offer. One day I may take it upon myself. I am someone's favourite after all, I could easily be pardoned.”[/color] They’d have to time Deme’s mood perfectly, but the spy was confident, his position was more than comfortable, his contingencies put in place should things turn.
There was no delusion that the Chancellor meant anything more than the battle robes were more comfortable. She didn't see him that way; though she noticed how some of the women and men regarded him... as if they were in awe. It was quaint, and quite amusing, if she was to be honest.
She snorted, as they danced through the crowd, until they were upon the fringes of said crowd. She'd already planned how they might disappear from the party without notice. I wish to be the last face he sees, when I decide the time is right. Though he had a point about the pardons.
He's written that I am to return home, as if I belong to him; I'm a military weapon, and I don't belong to him. She paused, clearly irked with the man she's never known, believing he owned her. He wishes to marry me off, it'd seem there's a debt in the family. She mused, as they danced, hardly paying attention to the steps. My next assignment was the Tilani's, and their heir is unwed. Allow me to please my father and continue to serve. Her voice was low.
No, there was nothing ever between the two other than camaraderie, saving each other's lives during the conflicts between Tevene and Qun and a common, natural ease such experiences bonded. Now, as Chancellor, people fawned over him, quickly submitting to his authority but only out of fear and duty, not genuine respect. Even after his father’s passing and Mal’s take over of House Valentius wasn’t enough to quell the ‘bastard’ title muttered in quiet corners.
Their brief waltz across the floor carried them easily to the outer fringes, where less prying ears would linger and the two could converse relatively easily. While parties could be interesting and amusing, the rigidity of social expectations annoyed the man, content to lurk and observe than generally take part. Her words caused him to chuckle, nodding in agreement. [color=#ff851b]“Yes, of course. Watching their eyes dusk, that last piece of light fade is a rather enjoyable experience. Exhilarating, one might say.” [/color]
His gaze narrowed as he listened, what on Thedas was Calidus up to? Debt? His jaw clenched under the mask, shoulders stiffening that his posture openly expressed his disapproval. [color=#ff851b]“Please your father? Pfft. Nothing will please that man than a blade between the ribs. Marriage though?”[/color] Briefly his eyes narrowed further. [color=#ff851b]“Is it something you truly want to do, Novella? I would never turn you away from serving the ‘Eyes,’ serving Tevinter, but marriage? Be bound to such convention?” [/color]
See? So you can't take care of him, for me. It takes away my fun. She crooned, her gaze sweeping around the dance floor behind of him. They were towards the outer fringes, now. Easier to converse freely.
He tensed, his posture stiffened in such a way that she felt it before she bothered looking back at him. Well, when I say 'please my father', I more-so mean the idea of receiving a bride price for me... and of course, I'd do something naughty where watchful eyes might catch us. Because if they were caught in any kind of sexual act, they would not pay for her, and yet they could still force her father to meet the dowry requirements if they opted to keep the engagement on despite her tarnished reputation.
Oooh, my full given name. You're upset. She wasn't teasing him, merely stating a fact. Her given name, especially the full thing, was hardly used often enough. You know, a marriage only lasts until 'death do us part'. She gave him a wide-eyed, innocent stare. Not that I'd kill my spouse, but if the rumors of the Tilani heir's rebel tendencies are true... She sucked her teeth, ...I could easily acquire an annulment from the Archon, and commendations. It'd do wonders for my career.
She puffed her cheeks out at her commander, a childish manner, almost petulant. I won't do it, without your approval. His approval mattered more than her actual families thoughts on the matter.
Mal snorted, “And what about my fun? Do I not get a chance to play, toy with him a little before you get.. I was going to say leftovers. I’m entirely selfish, I do apologise…. Not even a nibble? These tasks were more enjoyable when there was favourable company along for the ride, it gave him further reason to be left alone, unapproached by the scaling carrion. The overeager was always the first new meal at the table.
He listened to her excuses with dampening disdain. While grateful he’d been born a bastard, the advantage of a noble mother wouldn’t have been a hindrance either. Legitimacy, would have been at least an attempt, yet Mal’s father had dangled even that caveat of respect. Family meant nothing, blood meant nothing, one's deeds were what defined them and those who worked against Tevinter would find his steps kicking them violently off a building.
“You think yourself so amusing,” his tone is colder, but the amusement clear enough to her ears. “And I pity the poor fiance who’s doom is such, but now… why did you have to say it is to Tilani?” He scoffed, the jovial tone replaced swiftly with bitter knowing. The Tilani’s had been under investigation since the creation of the barrier, they’d been able to keep their heads above the tide, but how long could the old dogs last?
“Your Father has his own reasons and so do the Eye’s. Tilani has always been a thorn in the Archon’s side, but not one he could ever truly outroot.” Carefully, Malachai turned to appraise her,, his mask and underlying expression giving away none of his underlying feelings. Like she said, an annulment could be achieved if she wished it and if not, well, poison was always easy enough. No need to let the poor sod suffer.
“My approval isn’t necessary. In regards to the ‘Eye’s,’ you are a free citizen.” Then lowering his voice a fraction, “And anyone who infringes that, I will have put in a black bag and then I will have a game of piñata with them.”
Ella's lips curved at one side, just slightly. An almost smile, but she didn't let her amusement show so easily. And when did I say you'd never get a chance to play with him? She raised her eyebrows, dark eyes studying her superior's features. You cannot kill him. Maim him all you'd like.
His amusement was easy to see, even if to anyone listening, it'd sound that he was displeased with her. I'll never truly be a 'free citizen', you know. She mused lowering her voice, her gaze drifting over the dancers on the floor. Those people were free in their own ways; had never been trained to be a weapon and nothing more. I know too much. Done too much. Secrecy doesn't breed freedom. But thank you for the illusion.
She smiled brightly as she said thanks, as if it were a true statement of gratitude. She meant it; of course, but she also understood the ramifications if she defected from her station in life were much higher than the regular citizen. A regular citizen would be re-educated. A spy that defected... would only find death's embrace waiting.
Thank you. It wasn't a blessing, exactly. I'll see that they're no longer an issue for the Archon. She'd need to do her research; see why this heir was not married already. See who had been turned away, turned down, and why.
Sometimes, catching someone in a trap means being everything they want.
A feral glint ignited into life, just for her, as the opportunity to play with Calidus was still dangled. Don’t threaten me with a good time, Novella. You know maiming is my favourite part. He did like to make them dance and tell him all their juicy skeletons, or knowledge about others, even if completely untrue. What was one lie among a thousand screams?
Mal studied her as she lowered her voice, outwardly brushing it aside while inwardly he bristled. Even in his position as Chancellor, there were limits. One day, or I’ll make you one of my own. Retirement darling, always keep one eye on it. As a bastard, he had always understood that he would never be truly accepted among the elite, even now some circles were still too tightly wound by conservative magisters who couldn’t bend their neck to greet a half-breed. It was why the two had been flung together, expected to die instead of succeeding.
Jealous bitches, be jealous. When this place finally meets its demise, who do you think will survive longer, certainly not them. His brows shrugged, and dipping into the inner pocket of his coat, Mal produced a straw for his drink. It’s so infuriating, smelling the food and not partaking. You must eat for me, Ella. Describe it to me.
As the two circled the outside reaches of the party, Mal rolled his eyes. Make it at least a fun assignment for yourself. The longer you immerse yourself, the better intel and the easier they can be used to further whatever ends Deme has designed. However, his gait paused. I need not remind you of his… condition. Whatever illness he has, is progressing. It may be that we need… further information. Information that is currently outside of our reach. You may be reassigned suddenly, have an excuse prepared or be done with it.
A wicked little smile crossed her lips, A promise, then. She amended, with a shrug of her shoulders as he reminded her about retirement. Perhaps retirement is in my future. Perhaps it isn't. I like being of-use. She didn't fit in anywhere else; not yet. She looked the part as long as she wore her necklace, but that could be stolen, pulled from around her neck.
As it were, she was ashamed of her Kossith features... but she was also ashamed of hiding those features. But nobody had ever told her it was okay to be different.
Her worth was through her use, her abilities.
She was brought from her thoughts, as he brought out a straw to drink with. And asked her to taste the food for him. She rolled her eyes, claiming a dessert pastry from a passing caterer, keeping step with him.
One bite, delicious. Mmm. I'll start my research this week. Perhaps this Tilani heir will be an easy mark, worship at my feet. She'd had richer people, Houses long gone, worship her before. But it never lasted.
Understood. She nodded once, and let her gaze wander the dance floor once again, as she finished her pastry. Mmm, that was good. Bit too sweet, double-chocolate, maybe? Still warm. The food was an afterthought; she'd not been here for the food.
The slight narrowing of his eyes was the only comment on her promise. Their conversation moving on to their future, Mal inhaled a measured breath. The life of a half-breed was one of ostracization and a hope that they died quietly without incident when their use had ceased to be anything of consequence. I will always have use for you. Even in retirement. Your father won’t live forever, that noose around your neck will be cut one day.
He wore his own variety of masks to hide. At first the adopted fabric was light, granting him access to the circles of Tevinter life barred to him beforehand, then as he rose from the ashes of battle - a place where he was most comfortable - to the glittering halls of the Magisterium, the weight and suffocating hold it had took over.
Mal wished to be done with it. All of it. He had shed blood, lost friends and suffered heavily from fighting Tevinter’s battles, taking that drive to the shadows and now, now the threat could be the Archon himself.
The glare he shot her was two-fold. Firstly, how dare she, and the second, calculating, glancing towards the kitchens and sulking. Perhaps they are dumb and mute too, regardless, you will make them putty in your hands… Can you ditch this party now? I think we’ve lingered long enough. His impatience was obvious, his drink discarded on a nearby table while the straw slipped back into his pocket.
...I fancy finding the chef of those and… employing him elsewhere. His hand gestured, index finger indicating towards taking the long way. Any business you need done, go tend to it. I will be in the kitchens. Asking questions.
Novella rolled her eyes at her surrogate father, Yes, well, you made me more than just a weapon. And without my father, I'd have never came under your care. So perhaps we thank the old fool.
But the conversation quickly shifted away from how she might be of use after Tevinter was finished using her. She shrugged, Nobody here knows me for who I am. I could have left ages ago. But her grin widened, and she leaned towards him.
His gait halted abruptly, tension bristled across his shoulders before his steps renewed. I will not. And you have the audacity to roll your eyes at me. No, both their fathers could rot for their lack of simple kindness.
It’s not naughty. It’s merely a redistribution of resources. And I require tarts. He couldn’t even remember the owner of who’s estate they were in, but Mal was determined to acquire their talented pastry chef if not to merely inconvenience them. He had to take his amusement when he could, the responsibilities of his role too often a revolving door of lies, behind veiled lie, behind a shroud of mystery and misdirection if anyone looked too closely.
What do you say? as they reached the closed door leading to the kitchen chambers. Do we treat this as a mission from the old days, a smash and grab? Or, false charges leading to questioning, make this… who’s house is this? I forget, but, we could certainly drag this entertainment out for days.
