The Big City
You feel elated despite your nerves the second your feet hit Val Royeaux’s streets. It’s not a very long walk to the University… perhaps ten minutes at a decent walking pace, but you feel as though you could spin in place. Val Royeaux! The sights! The smells! You’re home! There’s a definite spring in your step as you walk side by side with Solas along the boulevard. Your face feels uncomfortably bare, however. Your meeting with the University representative is unmercifully early, or you would go shopping first. Clothing could wait, perhaps, but to your shock, the Inquisition hadn’t provided masks for you and Solas. Baptiste had packed one, but it wouldn’t fit either of you, nor was it particularly appropriate for elven wear.
Solas seems quite happy to silently take in the sights, but you blather idly as the two of you walk, pointing out stores that you’ve been in or food stands from which you purchased meals. As the two of you pass a Lover’s Alcove, you cheerfully point to the couple walking into the shadowy recess.
“It’s Lord Bellemont! And is that a new beau I see? Why… it’s Baron Choffard’s son! I haven’t even been gone half a year; what have I missed?” you say with a laugh. “I have to catch up on my gossip.”
“You seem quite involved in politics for one who professed a dislike for it,” Solas comments, sounding amused.
“It’s not politics, Solas, it’s gossip,” you say with a scoff. “If I don’t know these things, I won’t even be able to hold a decent conversation in Val Royeaux. I have a hard enough time being taken seriously without appearing uncultured.” At the word uncultured, your eyes drag over his outfit. Sigh. Well, yours isn’t any better. You’ll have to cause quite a scene to get into the library in any kind of legitimate fashion.
“How do you know the two of them are romantically entangled?” Solas asks. It’s a fair question, they’re not holding hands nor sitting particularly close, and Solas hasn’t spent much time in Val Royeaux.
“Note the alcove in which they sit,” you explain with a grin. “Very shadowy, is it not? With lots of corners where one might be unseen by passers by? As if designed for the arduous task of making love, yet placed in plain sight. There are many such corners in Val Royeaux, and they mostly serve as a means of announcing a relationship. In Ferelden, one simply publicly declares a relationship, but that would be uncouth here. To be seen entering a Lover’s Alcove with someone is much the same as shouting your love from the rooftops.”
“Fascinating,” Solas says, and to your surprise, you detect no sarcasm. Most people find the roundabout way of doing things that most Orlesians share to be… tiring. It would be nice if Solas was as interested in the culture of your countrymen as he is in the cultures of lost civilizations. Your desire to show him the beauty implicit in Val Royeaux only grows.
Unfortunately, duty calls. The University buildings loom on the horizon. You take a deep breath to calm your nerves. “Alright, Solas… Try to let me do the talking, even if they become rude or hostile. If the Chevaliers become involved, we’ll make a break for it and contact the Inquisition for further instructions.”
“Do you feel that particularly likely?” Solas asks.
“It’s enough of a possibility that I’m preparing for it,” you reply. “Alright… Let’s see how rusty I’ve become.”
You stroll through the main gates as if you own the place. The mural in the courtyard fills you with as much hate as it always has. Shartan, with his ears docked. Were it not the last such mural, you would melt it to slag. As it is, you’d love to vandalize his ears back on. But you focus, letting the hate fill you with a form of arrogant confidence, a cockiness that lets you look down on shemlen much taller than you.
You fix the world around you with a steady glare as two guards expectedly bear down on you. “Hey, you—”
“Finally, some help,” you say with a very Orlesian scoff. “I’m here to meet with a Jean-Marc Bernier. Why is he not here?”
Your tone throws both guards. “Uh…”
“Don’t just stand there,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “Is no one here informed? How do they expect anyone to do their job under such circumstances?” You see the guard’s eyes flickering about as he attempts to figure out if you’re referring to him or yourself. “I’m Alix Gagnon, with the Inquisition,” you say slowly, as if explaining something to a child.
“…You’re the ambassador?” the other guard says, appearing to finally grasp what’s happening.
“Ah! I see you’ve caught on!” you say, sarcastically clapping your hands together. “Yes. Where is Bernier?”
Just then, a rather flustered looking man runs over. You eye him, making care to look genuinely unimpressed. “Please, please. Tell me your name is Jean-Marc Bernier.”
“It is, although you have me at a disadvantage,” the man replies.
“They didn’t even give you a name?” you say with a sigh. “Typical. I am Alix Gagnon, for the Inquisition. You were at least told researchers were coming, I hope?”
“They said there would be an ambassador and researchers—”
“Ambassador,” you say dryly, pointing to yourself. Then you point to Solas. “Researcher. Pardon if I’m a bit short, monsieur, but it’s been a very long journey. The Imperial Highway is certainly not as it was the last time I traversed it. We’re both eager to see the University’s resources.”
“Uhm… If you would just… come with me?” the man says, looking somewhere between annoyed and panicked. With a short, resigned sigh, you follow the man. He leads you and Solas into something of a sitting room. You sit on a couch; Solas sits next to you. You take advantage of the moment to size up how Solas is doing. His face is such a neutral mask that even you have no idea what he’s thinking. Good. Although you really expected no less. Anyone who can fool you can fool some Orlesian fop. You cross your legs at the knees and lean back on the couch, adopting the posture of one tired but comfortable with their surroundings.
“Are we to meet someone?” you ask, eyeing your surroundings as Bernier murmurs something to another man. “I wasn’t told to expect anyone besides you; they will have me at a disadvantage.”
“Ah, I just need to… clear a few things…” the man murmurs, and you frown.
“Why was this not taken care of before we arrived? You were given warning.”
The man bristles. “Well, with all due respect, Miss Alix-”
“Gagnon, at the very least,” you interrupt with a scowl.
A few more people shuffle in, and another man moves to address you. “My apologies, madam, but the University was expecting someone more… official.”
You glare up at the man. “Pardon me? Official? Your assumptions are hardly my fault. I’m here to do a job, even if none of you know how to do yours.”
A few of the others begin speaking in Orlesian together, the choice words “lapin1” and “orgueilleuse2” among them. You glare at the speakers.
“Si vous voulez parler dans mon dos, assurez-vous au moins que je ne suis pas là! Imbéciles! Si vous êtes incapables de faire votre travail, trouvez-moi quelqu’un pour le faire à votre place!3” you snap, Orlesian tumbling from your lips with satisfaction.
The looks on the men’s faces are priceless. You keep up your glare. Even the man who deigned to speak down to you looks a little pale. “I will… get my superior,” he says icily.
“Do that,” you say darkly. “With some degree of haste, if you please. Some of us have work to do.”
You’ll win no friends, but they weren’t going to like you anyway. You sit with your legs crossed, foot flicking irritably, as a few of the men shuffle off, no doubt to get someone who actually gets paid enough to deal with the headache you’re causing.
“So… Alix Gagnon was it?” the arrogant man says as his subordinates fetch his betters. “You are not what was expected.”
“So I’m gathering,” you say sourly. “However, that’s more your shortcoming than mine, is it not? The Inquisition sent its best researchers, not its best courtesans. I was under the impression that our presence had already been settled.”
The man hesitates, doubtlessly knowing that it had, in fact, been settled, but that no one had mentioned you would be elves. It wouldn’t have even occurred to an Orlesian to ask. “I’m sure you and my superior can work things out,” he says finally, with some delicacy.
“I would hope so.” You wait, putting on the air of someone who has much better ways to spend their time. Not even any tea! You consider commenting on it, but really, they should know better without you saying. You steal another glance at Solas, but he’s looking as blank as ever. You’re sure you’ll get quite the reaction out of him later.
Finally, the others return with yet another man. The University has become something of a sausage fest since you were here last, Maker. But the sight of the man startles you so much that it shows on your face, however briefly. You regain your composure quickly, standing to shake the man’s hand as he approaches. “Alix Gagnon with the Inquisition. And you are someone with some degree of competency, I hope?”
“I am that, madam!” he says cheerfully. “I believe I grasp the misunderstanding here, fellows. Give me some time with Ambassador Gagnon, would you?”
The others seem more than willing to clear out of the room and leave you to the man. As soon as they’re gone, you break out in a grin to match his. “Jean-Luc Génin, you rascal!” you exclaim. The man pulls you into an embrace, and you return it gladly. “You’ve moved up in the world since I’ve been gone!”
“So have you, Alix!” he laughs. “Ambassador to the Inquisition, really?”
“It’s somewhat more complicated than that,” you admit with a chuckle, pulling back from the embrace. Both of you sit, you into the couch next to Solas, and him into a chair across from it. “But I am here on official business of the Inquisition, if you can believe that.”
“I can, but barely. Who’s your friend?”
“Oh, my apologies. This is Serah Solas, magical advisor to the Inquisition.” No point in lying, the man carries a staff. “The Inquisitor actually did send the two of us for this task.”
“Magical, hmm? Pleased to meet you, Solas. I’m Jean-Luc.”
“A pleasure,” Solas says politely.
Jean turns back to you. “The Inquisitor sent two elves? What was he thinking?” Jean laughs. “How much does he know about you?”
“Not enough to think I could handle this,” you say with a snort. “I’m his assistant, technically,” you add with a gesture towards Solas.
“Lucky man,” Jean drawls. “Well, you’re in luck, Alix. I’ve got a great excuse to let you in, and legitimately this time! Try not to trod on any more of my men, though. I don’t want a knife fight in the stacks.”
“I never thought I’d be lucky enough to see you promoted,” you snort. “I figured I’d have to bluff and bluster my way in. Fate’s smiling on me lately.”
“Honestly, we couldn’t turn you away without risking a stink with the Inquisition and the Empress,” Jean admits. “Plus, who wants to piss off Alix Gagnon?”
You snort. “Everyone, last I checked. I appreciate this, Jean.”
“We’ll have to catch up, Alix,” Jean says, a bit more seriously. “You’ve been gone for a while. Most of us thought you died when… I mean, your house… It’s gone, Alix. Burned to the ground.”
You wince. “I know. Send me a raven tonight. I’m at the Les Indignés Mouffette, room 304. Give me some spares, as well.”
Jean salutes sarcastically. “Your wish is my command! But you absolutely must fill me in. I have so many unanswered questions.” He gives Solas a long wink. “Your assistant is wily, monsieur. Watch out.”
“Yes, thank you, Jean,” you say dryly.
“Well, let’s get the two of you set up in the library!” he says gamely. “I’ll be running around soothing hurt feelings all day. I’m going to be the one to tell the Chancellor about this, you know. You owe me.”
Jean shows the two of you around the library and introduces you to the workers, more for Solas’s benefit than yours. You honestly can’t believe your good luck. Jean-Luc has been your contact within the library for a long time now. You’d pulled some strings to get him hired in the first place; you had known him when he was but a humble student, attempting to get some attention paid to his dissertation on the fallibility of the current economic hierarchy. You’re pleased to see he’s moving up in the world, considering you helped put him there. When he succeeds, you succeed, and this is a very real example of that. Plus, with his help, it will be all the easier to touch base with your old contacts without screaming to Solas “HEY LOOK AT ME DO ALL THIS SHADY BARD STUFF.”
Solas, at the very least, waits until Jean has left to turn to you. “Know that it’s only the presence of all this knowledge that keeps me from questioning you on the spot,” he informs you, although you see the ghost of a smile on his lips.
“I’ll explain later, I promise,” you say with a guilty grin. “For now, let’s focus on getting as much done as we can before the Chancellor catches wind of us and starts screaming for the Chevaliers.” You begin unloading requisition forms and lists onto the workspace that’s been designated for the Inquisition’s use. “Focus on what you want, first, but when you’re satisfied that you’ve filled your own requests, please assist me with the magical requests. I barely understand what some of them are,” you lie.
“Of course, Ambassador Gagnon,” he says, and you can’t help laughing.
“Thank you, Serah Solas, Magical Advisor to the Inquisition,” you reply solemnly, trying and failing to keep a straight face.
The two of you sweep through the library with a vengeance. It takes Solas impressively little time to accustom himself to the place. As for you, well, you’ve been here before, and the only thing that’s changed is that now you don’t have to sneak around. You would take joy in slowly perusing the aisles if not for the sheer amount of work you have to do. Solas, true to his word, not only fails to question you, but essentially ignores you altogether, only interrupting you when he needs your assistance with something. He doesn’t seem to want to use the library staff; you don’t blame him. Not a one of them is an elf, and all are staring at the two of you as if you’ve six eyes and three heads apiece.
You do much as you told Solas, focusing on your own requisitions first. You tear through every book they have on dragons, writing down names and authors of every tome that might even be slightly useful to you. Next, you take special care to do Helisma’s requests, which takes you much longer. Most the magic books will have to be obtained through your less, um… legal… channels, you’re sure, but these bestiaries you can get from the University.
You only realize how late it’s gotten when your stomach begins to rumble. What time is it? A cursory glance at a water clock lets you know it’s well into the afternoon. You’re surprised, but it seems Solas is just as willing to work through the lunch hour as you are. It’s something of a relief, actually, to know he can be swept away by work as well as you can. Perhaps he’s just chronically bored at Skyhold? Now that you think about it, he’s always either reading or fiddling with something magical if he’s in the rotunda. Normally reading. Doesn’t the Inquisitor give him things to do? Maker knows they manage to keep you busy.
Either way, you’ll both be kept busy for the entire time you have in Val Royeaux. There’s much to do and little time to do it in, so you’re more than willing to have the meal skipped. You focus on your work as much as you can throughout the afternoon.
You’re getting pretty hungry by the time it could arguably be called “dinnertime.” Solas is still working through tome after tome after tome, and you begin to suspect he’d work here until midnight, then simply sleep on a table, if you let him. It’s almost a shame to interrupt him. You wait until he seems to hit a lull.
“Solas.”
“Mmm?”
“Solas. Come on, I’m hungry.”
It seems to take a moment for this to register with him. He looks up from the tome he’s flipping through.
“That means you’re coming with me. To get food. Food, Solas, that thing you normally pester me for?”
“Yes, of course,” Solas says, though he still seems distracted. He glances down at the book. “I don’t suppose they let us take these…?”
“Us?” you say with a snort. “Maker, no.”
Solas sighs, and places a soft strip of cloth into the book. “Will they leave them alone?”
“Yeah, I doubt they’ll touch anything we leave out until we’re gone for good,” you say with a chuckle. “C’mon. There’s a place nearby we can go.”
You do manage to drag Solas out of the library, despite his distracted fussing. You go only a few buildings away to a bakery that you’re familiar with. You lead Solas around to the back entrance, although you suspect he doesn’t even notice.
The back entrance is hot, because it’s behind the kitchens, where the ovens vent. But it’s where an elf can grab some food in peace, one of the few places on this side of town. The back area has a couple of tables haphazardly scattered about. There’s only one other person there; not a lot of elves come this way.
“Alix!” says a cheerful voice. “Back in town, eh? Playing tour guide?”
“Hello, Élise,” you say gamely. You have a very good mind for names and faces. It’s a blessing. “Something like that. What have you got for me?”
“Lots of leftover crullers today! I think we’ve got some day-old baguettes and some spread that’s starting to look a little off…”
“No chance of something nicer?” you say with a smile, slipping a few coins onto the counter. “Got to show the tourist a good time.”
Élise chuckles. “I’ll see what won’t be missed.”
You head to the table Solas has sat down at. He seems to have gotten his head out of the book-fog and is looking at you curiously. Now is probably when the deluge of questions comes. “Is it not so simple as buying food?”
“It’s hard to even find a place that’ll seat elves on this side of town,” you say with a sigh. “The owner here tolerates us as long as it gives him people he can sell old bread to. He won’t sell it up front, not good enough for sh… humans.”
“You seem to know exactly where to go and exactly what to say,” Solas observes.
“I lived in—or just outside—Val Royeaux for years,” you reply, knowing that doesn’t even begin to explain it. Solas’s expression says as much.
“And you have friends within the University,” he points out.
You cough delicately. “Yes, well, that’s something of a secret. Less now, I suppose, since elves are allowed in.”
“And you know the layout of the library and how to request tomes… and the names of several workers.”
You wince. You hadn’t thought he was paying that much attention, absorbed in his work as he was. “Ah… Well…”
Élise saves you from answering right away by arriving with two bowls of soup, miraculously hot, and some of the aforementioned crullers and slightly old bread. Still good, really, and Solas doesn’t seem too picky. You thank her and pay, and only turn back to Solas when she walks back into the kitchen. You let your eyes trace over the other person in the room, but he seems to be finishing up and getting ready to go, not paying you much mind.
“I… Well, honestly, Solas, the University is the reason I lived in Val Royeaux. It attracts the kind of people who hire linguists and scribes, and it has one of the greatest—if not the greatest—library in Orlais. I… found ways to get in.”
“That much is clear,” Solas says with a chuckle. “It’s interesting to meet Alix Gagnon.”
You flush slightly. “She’s not so different.”
“No?” Solas says, looking amused. “You’re more confident here.”
“I know what to expect in Val Royeaux,” you say, shuffling your feet uncomfortably under the table. “Skyhold is still new to me.”
“Was it difficult, to be an elf living here?” Solas wants to know.
“There are places where it’s easier and places where it’s harder,” you say generously. “There are more elves in Orlais than anywhere else, especially here in Val Royeaux. We’re ubiquitous… and no one tends to look twice as long as you don’t stray from your expected paths.”
“But you do,” Solas points out. “Or you never would have discovered the bakery that sells day old bread to elves.”
You nod. “Because of my job, I often show up in places where humans don’t expect me to be. I’ve learned ways of helping them cope with the shock.”
Solas prods you with more questions as the two of you eat, mostly harmless, but you can tell he’s curious about who you were in Val Royeaux. You can’t blame him. You’re just glad he’s not being ruder or more forceful with his inquiries, actually. He’s acting like someone who just learned about a friend’s hobby. Perhaps he’s just doing that to make you comfortable? He’s certainly seeing now that you can be wily. It might be that he’s just decided a direct approach won’t work on you.
You wish that you could stop being paranoid and enjoy a pleasant conversation with an attractive, fascinating man. But the day you do that is probably the day you die. So the paranoia can stay.
After dinner, the two of you head back to the library to do even more work. By the end of the day, you have a significant stack of requests to hand to the library staff.
“I need copies of these,” you tell a rather tired looking librarian.
“Some of these only have one copy,” she points out dryly.
“It’s a good thing not all the mages are gone from Val Royeaux, then, isn’t it?” you say with a smile. “I’m sure the University knows several who would be willing to magically copy the tomes swiftly enough to have them ready by the week’s end. If not, I could provide a list.”
The librarian sighs. “It will be expensive.”
“I have the coin. Please, have them start at the top of this list, they’re ordered by importance,” you inform her. “And this won’t be all of them. This is just to start.”
After you get everything squared away with the librarian, you head to collect Solas. Days are still long in Val Royeaux, but it’s getting dark outside, and that means it’s time for the two of you to begin your walk back to the inn. Dragging Solas away from his books yet again will no doubt be a task.
“Solas. Soooolas.”
“Mmm.”
“Solas, it’s time to go back to the inn.”
Solas pauses, then looks up from his tome. “I would have thought you’d wish to stay here all night. Does the library close?”
“Maybe I’ve just decided that sleep is a precious thing.” Solas’s skeptical look could peel paint. You sigh. “It’s getting dark, and we have to walk back to the inn.”
“I wouldn’t have pegged Val Royeaux for a dangerous place to walk at night,” Solas comments.
“I’ve got long ears and spent all day irritating people, Solas. I don’t care how far we are from the alienage; I’m not risking running to a Chevalier.” You glance out a window at the steadily darkening sky. You’re not sure which you want less: to see what a Chevalier would do to you or what Solas would do to a Chevalier. You’d rather just avoid the confrontation altogether.
“You’ve mentioned them often. Are they such a problem?”
“How about we start walking and I tell you on the way?” you urge.
Solas looks at his book and sighs. “Very well.”
You walk quickly through the streets of Val Royeaux, but try your best to look like you belong there. No posture could make you actually belong, of course. You and Solas look like alienage elves at best. The lack of masks is also particularly telling. He’s insistent on you explaining as you walk, however.
“The Academie des Chevaliers is here in Val Royeaux,” you explain while keeping a keen eye on your surroundings. “Meaning Val Royeaux is always full of new Chevaliers and cocky little shits still in school, ready to prove themselves. They’re known to target elves out late, whether in the alienage or not. And before you say anything, yes, Solas, I’m sure you could protect both of us from a single arrogant Chevalier, but I’d rather you didn’t have to.”
“Is this why you were hoping to keep a human guard?” Solas inquires.
“Yes, precisely,” you admit with a sigh. “As much for the human part as the guard part. It wouldn’t be an issue if Baptiste were still with us. But he’s not, and it’s my responsibility to keep us out of trouble.” Solas snorts before he manages to cover his mouth with a hand. “Alright, alright, my responsibility to keep us out of trouble that ends with spilt blood,” you amend with a chuckle.
“I’m lucky I have you here to keep me safe,” Solas quips, and you spin your head to look at him. He’s teasing you again!
“Oh, har har,” you say sarcastically. “Laugh it up; I’ll still fret. I can’t even imagine you in Val Royeaux alone… they really should have sent Madame de Fer for this.”
“We can complete the task better than her,” Solas says with a smile. “Whether that was the Inquisitor’s intent or not.”
You smile as well, unable to help it. He’s complimenting you, in a roundabout sort of way. “At least this way I get to show you the city… If we can get our work done quickly enough, anyway. Ah! Les Indignés Mouffette! Home sweet home.”
You order wine and snacks as soon as you’re back in the room. As tempted as you are to take yet another bath, you don’t really need it, and you’d like to avoid getting naked in Solas’s vicinity as much as possible… even if he doesn’t feel the same constraints. That he sees you as a non-sexual entity has been established, but Maker, you sure don’t see him the same way. You’d seen half of his ass and thought you might actually die. He’d stripped you nearly nude and mostly just been irritated that he had to.
Despite having left the library at a decent hour, the two of you stay up rather late. You both sit at the desk, going through the requisitions together.
“These are the ones I’ve requested from the University,” you say, pulling out a stack. “They’re the intersection of ‘hard to find’ and ‘the library had them.’ I think for a lot of these magical requests we’re going to have to go to some of the bookshops here in town, especially, ah…” You pull out a form. “Rivaini Seers: A Forbidden Art… My, who would have requested something like that?” you say sarcastically. It’s one of Solas’s many requests.
“Clearly, a man up to no good,” Solas says with a faint smile. You snort.
“We can go to some bookstores tomorrow… The sooner the better, really, but I still want to spend the morning at the library…”
You go over your plans for tomorrow with him as the two of you sort through the requisitions a bit better than the rushed organization you’d given them the night before. It’s mostly about familiarizing yourself with the names, authors, and subjects… several of the requests are like yours, requesting any tomes on a certain subject that can be found. Those are the most time consuming to fill.
The two of you eat cheese, drink wine, and sort paperwork until late in the night; your idea of the perfect evening, honestly. Solas does eventually retire, but since he just yanks his shirt off and collapses into the giant bed, you stay working at the desk. You’re a little uncomfortable, knowing he’s half naked under the sheets, but you try to ignore it. There’s still work to be done, and honestly, it’s much nicer to be working at a desk.
You try to focus on your work, but your eyes keep drawing back to Solas’s sleeping form on the bed. Every time you notice yourself watching him, you snap your eyes back to your papers. Isn’t this the exact scenario you had scolded yourself for, not five days prior? How pathetic are you, to watch a man sleep?
Still, you can’t help but notice that Solas sleeps like the dead. The steady rise and fall of his chest is the only thing that informs you he’s asleep and not a corpse. He doesn’t snore, doesn’t toss and turn… Even when your aura isn’t wrapped up tight inside you, you’re a fretful sleeper. He sleeps so completely that it’s making you tired. You consider going to your own room to lie down for a bit, but shrug it off. Chances are you won’t be able to sleep, so why bother? Might as well get some work done since Solas fell asleep without chasing you out.