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Ferin Mercar has been remitted to the custody and care of The Viper a day ago; the masked man's focus on his elven 'Frater', whatever that meant in Tevene, had been singular and near frightening to behold.
The Viper makes his first and potentially final visit to Treviso's Cantori Diamond. Magic flickers over the man's form and his entourage; a dozen mages and their booned warriors follow a terrorist leader to a private room in a building full of paid assassins that had tried many times to kill him and his people. The Viper's security detail replaces the guard of Chance and Heir outside the door, Viper and his right hand Templar enter into the sick-room of Ferin Mercar, short Tevene phrases uttered between them as the damage is discussed. Ferin is deemed stable enough to travel to Minrathous, and Viago sends the same medicines he has been using on Mercar with them; instructions verbal and written given to the Templar.
"If they are in pain even with the medicine, give them a measure of the sedative. They do not need to suffer. If you are in need of further medicine, let me know before it becomes dire."
The Templar nods and tersely thanks him, a single arm to his chest in a small salute as he follows Viper and the entourage carrying Ferin on a stretcher. Viago watches the elf disappear with their family and Teia in tow; the elf refusing to let Ferin awaken without the one voice they have listened to. Viago knows his wife goes with them to assure that Ferin is genuinely being taken care of; her lack of knowledge of who The Viper and this Templar actually are means she will not leave the wounded elf in the care of strangers.
Seven days ago, Ferin Mercar was sent home to Minrathous; a slow death condemned upon the elf because those that claimed to love them refused to let them rest. The elf would be in pain until they finally passed or a series of miracles by Tevinter's healers were worked. All Viago De Riva had been allowed to do was keep the woeful creature asleep and harmless; the mage's magic denied to them while they were in a desperate state. A confused mage will kill allies as well as enemies if they are unable to be reasoned with.
Viago steps into his bedroom in Salle; hair on the back of his neck standing up as he takes one step further than the entrance. The lanterns and sconces are off as they should be. The windows are closed. The balcony door is latched. Nothing is amiss in Viago's private quarters save for a feeling he cannot place. His hand clutches his cane as he backs out of his room; preparing to call for Ishani when Viago feels the all too familiar pressure of a rapier's blade against his spine.
"I have no desire to harm you, Talon De Riva. Please enter your room and speak with me." A low born Antivan accent speaks warmly; the press of the blade insistent but not an attempt to kill him. Not yet, anyway. Viago exhales slowly and does as his captor asks; walking into his quarters calmly and remaining within striking distance of a blade that could very easily cripple or kill him in a split second. Even an unskilled warrior could kill him at this point. The sound of the bedroom door closing reaches his ears. He is alone with someone who may yet want him dead.
"Face the mirror, Seniore De Riva. I would see your expressions for this." Viago walks to his dressing room; lone tall mirror standing proud in the center. The uninvited guest had explored his room; he knew where to send him for this audience at blade point. Viago scowls unhappily; everything will be cleaned and dusted for tampering and poison. Every Crow will be interrogated and punished for failing to stop this intruder.
Provided Viago is not murdered in his own home.
If he dies tonight… Rook Syriannas will be given their rightful place and all the power of the Fifth Talon of The Crows. Syriannas, even if they lose him, will have everything he can give them save his physical presence. If he cannot be with them during this fraught time, if he cannot support them during an impossible pregnancy… this will have to be enough. His plans will have to be enough.
Viago De Riva looks into his mirror and feels his heart falter. A blonde elven man stands behind him; a Crow's cowl tucked into the belt of a stolen set of black leather armor. The shoulders are too wide for his frame; the hips as well; the belt creasing the leather as it fights gravity to keep the man clothed. Viago sees the too long sleeves and pant legs; a younger Crow's garb. One of Viago's fledgelings who may not have even heard the elf coming. The only relief is that he sees no bloodstains. The fledgling may have survived the encounter. Viago does not throw out a perfectly good recruit because a man with decades of experience got the drop on him. So long as the fledgling did not flee or surrender knowingly, they will likely be forgiven and punished with extra trainings to avoid this in the future. Provided Viago survived this tense moment. His hand twitches on his cane; instinct begging him to whirl and strike at the greatest traitor in The Crow's history. Of course it would be The Crow Killer himself to end the rule of Viago De Riva.
Zevran Aranai's expression is nearly unreadable. His eyes are dark and his brow uncreased. He seems unbothered and yet entirely focused on his purpose. The tattoo on his face has aged with him; faded now and creased at his cheeks by smile lines he does not show at this time.
"Relax a moment, Talon. You are yet to be condemned. I have come to know for certain why an ally of Rook's was abducted from Treviso's streets. Rather embarrassing, no, to have an ally of your ward taken and broken without your allowance?"
Viago's lips curl and twitch in anger; the audacity of this man to blame him for Ferin's torment was too much; especially after he breaks into his home and accosts a hapless fledgling as well as himself. But Viago cannot rise to the anger, not yet. The Crow Killer speaks of Rook with reverence and familiarity; a dangerous and advantageous thing to do.
"What do you know of it, traitor? Were you not in the position to aid them? Or are you loyalties as unpredictable as ever?"
"Your Rook saw fit to trust me last we spoke. The Jester as well. Would you call me a fool for believing any amount of protection would be afforded the mage that saved your sibling's life any number of times?"
"The only fool in that situation is Rook for trusting a traitor to do anything other than stab them in the back. As he does now."
"I have not stabbed anyone this night, De Riva. The owner of this armor is alive and well. Do answer the question; why was Jester allowed to be stolen from your city?"
"It was not allowed, traitor. If- If an oversight on my watch occurred and thus Mercar was stolen, it is due to my focus being on my ward, not whatever Jester is to you." Viago's eyes watch Zevran's lips smirk and the blade of the rapier press slightly firmer into his spine. A nerve had been struck in the elf. Viago continues to pull at it now that he knows where it is.
"Perhaps you should ask yourself why I must watch your ward as well as my own when Rook's autonomy, dignity, their life, has been stolen from them. When you yourself are nowhere to be seen." Zevran Arainai laughs at that; a small, wry smile on his lips.
"Why I am nowhere to be seen? In a city- an entire country- that would kill me for the prestige it would buy them? Do you not understand why I am here? Why I hold a blade gently instead of running your through? Do your paranoid glances not allow you to see the obvious? An ally of your ward, your heir, was stolen from your city. Tortured and tormented because someone allowed it to happen. Where in Treviso could The Antaam have taken Jester where Crows do not see? What, other than specific instruction, would allow a mage who's biggest crime against The Crows is open distrust and suspicion— as any foreigner has of you, they simply do not have the courtesy to be honest with you— what other than specific orders would allow an ally of Rook's to be attacked and stolen?"
The Crow Killer has not said anything Viago has not already considered and dreaded. Ferin Mercar; glamoured and hidden from prying eyes specifically for the purpose of not putting others or themself in danger; was taken while disguised. They were overwhelmed; a Tevene blood mage was overwhelmed in the streets of Treviso. Magic may have become less illegal in the last two decades since Orlais elected a new Divine, but even Free Mages were not openly casting in public spaces unless they were already in danger. Any unprepared mage would not have dared challenge a prepared Maleficar such as Jester, let alone when they were fighting the Antaam. The fact that Ferin Mercar was overpowered meant that someone wanted and had planned, to take them.
"Spit out your accusation then, traitor. Or go ask the Jester themself whom they suspect."
Viago watches the Crow Killer's stolen garb shift unnaturally; a writhing, rippling undulation of leather garb that Viago cannot guess as to the meaning of. Had the Crow Killer become a Necromancer's plaything? Did his body have roiling beasts and bugs within it? What fresh horror would this man visit upon The Crows?
A vibrant blue cobra head pokes out of the Crow Killer's collar. Green eyes brighter than any emerald Viago has ever seen stare at him in the mirror; a calm beast surveying him until she turns to nudge Zevran's jaw as she had done with Viago a short week ago. Andraste alerts Zevran that she does not believe Viago to be responsible for her master's torment. Zevran's mouth smiles at him in the mirror, free hand scratching the cobra's chin.
Of course the Tevene Blood Mage was in cahoots with The Crow Killer. Why wouldn't they be? If you fear the Crows, you ally yourself with the one man who had evaded them for decades.
"I did not lie when I spoke of no desire to harm you. Andraste has the final say in who wishes her keeper harm. A question, Talon De Riva; if I were to put away my blade, would you attack me?"
Any half decent Crow would. Any Antivan would launch themself at him to gain the prestige in killing him. A Crow under the gaze of their Talon would be forced to act even if they did not think they could win.
The only Talon in the room is Viago De Riva.
"I must." The Fifth Talon states; grave and unflinching. Viago may have just signed his own death certificate.
"You are not forced to do anything, Fifth Talon of The Antivan Crows." The blade at his back lifts, and in the mirror, Zevran Arainai sheathes his sword. Andraste nuzzles against his chin again. Viago's body moves before his mind can tell him not to. The poisoned blade hidden within his cane flicks out; aiming for the elf's belly.
Two Crows act to save themselves; a familiar dance that Viago has performed more times than he cares to count. Training or true death duels, Viago's instinct is to win a fight; and Zevran Arainai had started one.
A blue cobra bursts from loose leather armor like the elf has been disemboweled. Six feet of pure muscle wraps around Viago's sword arm and tenses; forcing his aim off and missing Zevran's stomach by millimeters. The elf lurches back and holds up his hands; a look of pleading desperation on his face. Half of Andraste is still uncoiling from his waist; the cobra simply too big to be practical. How Mercar traveled with her on the daily was a mystery that could only be explained by magic. The mage simply could not be that strong.
"I will not harm you unless you harm me, Talon De Riva. I swear to you on my spouse's life. I am here to help you and your ward."
"You can only trust a traitor to betray you, Arainai." Viago hisses, jerking his arm around to try and dislodge the serpent on his arm. Andraste's head rises to glare at him; mouth open in warning, but her fangs are not bared. Her cold head presses to his brow; soothing and calm. The immense weight and pressure of the snake's coils leave him lopsided and off kilter; while Zevran Arainai unties his rapier and throws it behind Viago. He is unarmed, and Andraste has begun to unwind herself from the Talon's arm.
"Mahariel, actually, De Riva. I find that name to be quite fitting for one who has no use for the house that failed me. Be reasonable, De Riva. Rook will be upset about this enough; we do not need to be friends, we simply must know we are on the same side."
"The same side of which conflict, traitor?" Viago hisses, sheathing his blade in his cane once more. Andraste slithers off and up Zevran's body once more, bulking out the loose armor as she disappears inside the coat. The elf fastens the armor again, looking almost good enough to pass for a new recruit. No one would look at him twice; unseasoned and unworthy of paying for.
"Mythal'enaste, De Riva, the world ending conflict we are all trying to avert, no?" The elf sounds utterly helpless in the face of a man he cannot make heads or tails of. Viago can only barely hide his smile as Zevran continues to speak.
"My beloved hears the voices of the Gods; I will not lose them to ancient mages. I can help you if you swallow your pride long enough to allow it. Andraste has proven you are not at fault for Jester's fate; as I assumed was the case. Now, I am leaving, as I have others to check for culpability and a snake to return to her keeper. I shall inform you via letters if anything of note is discovered." Zevran backs through the dressing room until he is one foot outside, shooting one last glance at Viago before he dons his stolen cowl and absconds into the night.
"I have left a note of security weaknesses on your desk, as well as a gift from my beloved. You saved our Jester, and that will never be forgotten. These are strange times, De Riva. We have lived through enough of them; let us hope this is the last and the future is calm."
Zevran leaves through the front door of House De Riva, and Viago reads the detailed security break down the man left for him; frowning at how easily the man had broken in and hid in Viago's parlor until he arrived. Ishani at least was in Treviso at the time. She might have actually killed Arainai if she had a chance.
The gift from Arainai's beloved is a thick leather folio bundle of fresh and dried herbs labeled in elvhen, trade, and Antivan. There are rare plants from the Anderfels; Ferleden, and Orlais, as well as powdered mushrooms from The Deep Roads. The Hero of Ferelden has given him a gift that would cost a small fortune. Viago stares at the alchemical ingredients for a long moment. The Hero of Ferleden, a dalish warrior mage that had saved the world and spared an assassin's life… had sent a gift of poison and medical reagents to him because he had saved Jester.
"You can only trust that he will betray you." Viago reminds himself, packing the reagents up and marking them for testing later. He has a house to secure.