SHOULD GLORY COME AT SUCH A PRICE, Part II

[faderifting]

WHO: Characters in Minrathous
WHAT: Daring escapes
WHEN: End of Solace
WHERE: Minrathous
NOTES: OOC plotting post!

It's become a running joke that wherever the Inquisition travels, disaster follows. It stops being funny somewhere around mid-afternoon: not long after a cadre of Inquisition representatives departs to speak with the Archon at a secretive location, the atmosphere in the palace shifts. The staff is watching the Inquisition's movements more openly, and guards are watching their own colleagues with more interest. In the late afternoon a woman arrives with a small entourage, and while she doesn't visit the visitors' quarters where the Inquisition is housed, she might be glimpsed through a window or cracked door, with twin blonde braids looped behind her ears and serious eyes above a gap-toothed smile. Only those who were at Haven would recognize her for certain.

In the meantime, back doors and side exits that were previously open and unguarded begin to close, here and there, with enough subtlety that it would be easy to miss at first, until the scattering of guards throughout the palace suddenly doubles. Most remain tight-lipped, offering only the most cursory explanation: routine security response. A few are willing to offer more, but their stories vary: rumors of a potential intruder on the grounds, a visiting petitioner causing trouble, unrest in the city over a recent vote, some sort of controversy in the Magisterium. It's increasingly clear that something is happening, but equally that those in the palace willing to speak of it have no idea what it is.

The main doors remain unbarred, and members of the Inquisition are not stopped from leaving, but warned that once they do, they're on their own. Those who venture out will find the city in a similar state: thrumming with unfocused anxiety, gossip flying, wild stories about attacks on the city gates, the harbor blockaded, a purge in the assembly, a slave revolt, armies on the march, fires on the mainland--too much to parse through and find any kernel of truth before it's too late.

Thankfully, there are sending crystals. Eventually, there comes a whispered warning: leave the city, now, without anything that might slow them down. There is no way for the entire delegation to safely meet, so instead spots are chosen both within the palace and without, places that small groups can congregate without drawing attention to arrange an escape toward the city gates.

It's as much advance notice as anyone could hope for, but it still isn't enough to make this simple.

Comments

[hwaaaitsme]

"If you wish to starve countless poor and lost civilians, do us all a favor and drop the pretense! Hate Tevinter, as you like, but do not pretend this is a sound strategy."

Loki is tired and angry and he has had quite enough of this. He has had enough of death today. He is in no mood to fight, nor to kill, even if it would be simpler to dispatch this woman.

"What you are suggesting is an atrocity, an execution of tens of thousands of people you happen to dislike. You will not even punish Corypheus with this farce of a plan, only the people and us."

[coquettish_trees]

"Resistance will hardly come flocking to the Inquisition's flag if it is known that we are prone to hacking off limbs."

And there is Alexandrie, bringing up the rear and looking rather the worse for wear; blood spattered, like the rest, the skirt of her gown slit to the thigh for movement.

"Yes, as you say, the people of Tevinter will fight for Tevinter. But that is not what we wish, is it? It is the people of Tevinter fighting for Thedas. What care they for us; what care they for our efforts in Orlais, in Nevarra, in the Marches, Ferelden, the Deeps, if it is our care that starves them? You may as well write the Venatori's propaganda for them. Why create willing recruits when you could have a city full of spies and rebels waiting to be tapped?"

[altusimperius]

What a horrible place. What a horrible day.

It's well into the conversation that Benedict comes shuffling forward, limping and gripping his arm over a sleeve torn down to the last few pathetic threads. His hands are bloody and he looks awful, less in the physical sense than by the glassy horror in his eyes. He'd stayed behind in his rooms as long as he could.
Didn't Tevinter always protect its own?

He comes upon an argument, people shouting and threatening and-- that is a fire, isn't it. Two of the Templars are here, and the Asgards, and that woman, and another he doesn't know: a motley crew. He's hardly paying attention.

"We have to go," he says, with an urgency that's strangely frail. Whatever the argument is about, surely it can wait until they're all safely away from the ...whatever this is.

[limier]

"I would do the same of Val Royeaux," How well-bred stomachs churn to know their meat; the Imperium was built on war, on the backs of the dead. It will crumble for fear of its own foundations. "Or should they only starve under —"

And then there are two more, head swiveling to take in the state of them; mouth drawn into sudden, thin line. She hardly takes in what Lexie says, the blunt shock Benedict wears is all that’s needful:

They’ve run out of time.

"Go," Her own voice sounds distant, at once defeated, lost beneath the heartbeat in her throat. A moment passes that must be shorter than it feels before she finally shakes the blade. The flickering of its fires wink out to plunge their surroundings deeper into gloom. "Someone prop him up."

A step about James, out into the hall. An arm to Benedict — or a rough gesture to Lexie to do the same, should he shy from it. He’s seen them. It’s keep up now, or kill him, and the rest plainly haven’t the balls.

"Were you followed?"

[thorndergod]

Lexie makes better points than him and he'd say something if his mind was clear enough. It's not. His energy sputters out with the fire, fury giving way to let the reality of everything sink in. The city is lost. Frigga is lost. Corypheus has won this day and Thor has won a small battle down here but in the grand scheme of things it is nothing.

"If you set more fires, I will put them out," Thor warns in a tone devoid of much emotion at all as he takes the lead. He's familiar with the simple layout, and very familiar with the hideyholes as well.

"We will exit the catacombs and press west, unless there are other plans." If he keeps planning, if he keeps thinking about what they're doing next, he doesn't need to dwell on the body on his shoulder or what is going on above their heads. Moving is good, even if it's at a slow enough pace for Alexandrie and Benedict to keep up. One foot in front of the other and he can pretend that everything is fine. He can get them out. And then... then is something he doesn't need to think about right now.

[judgemewhole]

James's hand was at his sword, looking into the darkness. As Lexie approached, his expression tightened -- but no, no, Evie was far away from here. He just needed to get her sister out alive. Benedict, for all the problems they had with one another, was nodded through as he watched the corridor behind.

He tossed a glance over at Wren, noting that the injuries got more and more severe as the more of them gathered together. There is the distinct noise of his sword being pulled free of the scabbard.

"We can choose to starve him out now, and deal with Tevinter later, when they are angry and coming for blood ... or we can take him out later, with all of Thedas behind us. Strategically speaking, let's leave the way we came, in peace."

He turned to Benedict, and solemnly offered his free arm to lean on. "Wren is right though - we have run out of time. They are coming."

And now he was going to say something that Wren would like and the rest would hate, but it might be the difference between them being alive and dead.

"We might have to set the fire behind us anyways, to keep them from following. Either way, we have to leave. Right now."

[altusimperius]

Shrinking away from James, Benedict half-bumps into Wren's offered arm, gripping onto it to keep himself from falling. His leg isn't broken, but it hurts to walk on, and he's clearly in no state to do any serious running or jumping without worsening it.

"I don't know," he answers faintly, "I heard them--" A rough swallow as fear surges through him; time with the Inquisition has made him more familiar with such fear, but he still isn't used to it. "--looking for me." He grips Wren's sleeve as he looks back over his shoulder, clearly grasping at anything even slightly resembling protection.

[hwaaaitsme]

"These catacombs will not aid us in hiding," Loki explains in an effort to halt the current argument and help them move along. "There will be few dead ends and even fewer winding corridors to duck down. For a group of size this will be very difficult."

The actual architecture of the underground is ancient but well cared for. The ceiling style is a series of open domes held up by converging archways--convenient for airflow and, unfortunately, wont to transmit sound over great distance. There are far more pillars than walls and, apart from the expansive darkness, it is the stores themselves that provide the most cover. It is not hard to identify where one estate's storage ends and the next begins, the walls of plaster, wood, or concrete stand out terribly against the old stone. They divide the space well, but will not obfuscate their path if they are caught out.

Setting fire to the stores might aid their escape, smoke would be quite a boon for hiding...but it would also force them to deal with a rapidly escalating fire in a contained space. It would also starve most of Minrathous but, if he were being honest, Loki was less and less bothered by the idea of that with every passing second.

"This way and keep up, if they start searching from the slave markets inward, we shall have to exit out a much more distant entrance."

Loki starts moving west, toward the outlets he knows. He is exhausted but still he lifts a hand to conjure a sphere of watery silver light before them. He could not make it brighter if he tried but, if questioned, will deflect that it is low to keep them from being spotted.

In the distance it is not hard to hear the cacophony of booted feet and metal armor clanking through the underground. It is very hard to tell how close they are but Loki would guess not very. If there are peasants after them, they will be far harder to hear on approach than the guard. Sandals make far less sound on stone than hardened soles, after all.