The clinking of glasses, the sound of laughter. The nobles below were truly having a fun time. Was it not always fun in Orlais? when could one not enjoy themselves when beautiful masks were to be had at the plenty and gold flowed like an endless stream. Barrett had been to other nations, of course, but the significant grandeur of Orlais always attracted him. In Ferelden he slept in a ditch, In Kirkwall he slept in an Inn, in Tevinter he slept on the gallows, but when his line of work deigned him worthy to kill in Orlais, he slept in style. He did not dislike his line of work, no on the contrary, the adrenaline rush that met him after a kill was something to be desired. And today he looked down on a most joyous feast. The masks were the most splendid he had ever seen, the dresses were made of the finest silks and there were only three Chevaliers to give him trouble. There was one man he was looking for, a man that stood out in a crowd, when Orlesians wore silk, this man wore cold armour made of Dragonbone and veined with white steel. His lush brown hair was long and his nose was large, his eyes were inviting and caring, but they met with a witty twist. His brown beard was cut short, which made it possible to see his huge broad smile. They called him the Warden Commander and the hero of Ferelden, but an Assassin should never see his prey as a hero. To Barrett, this man was the young Aeden Cousland. The Commander had been invited here, to Val Royaux, because of his lover, the bard Leliana, who had Orlais heritage herself. After Leliana had aided in saving the world, several nobles had decided they wanted to see her and meet her, it was always in their slimy intentions to get on the better side of important people. Aeden had been in Starkhaven when he caught the unwanted eye of Barretts employers. It had belonged to a Knight loyal to the late Viscount of Starkhaven, and the mercenaries who served the new Viscount had asked for it, apparently there had been some stir and Aeden had ended up fleeing south with the blade, it apparently had something to do with the mans principles. It was late into the night when Barrett got his chance for a kill, Aeden had left the party to rest by the balcony, and was sitting out there all alone. With silent footsteps, Barrett paced from his perch in the ceiling to the door to the balcony, putting on a mask as too blend in with the party. Barretts dagger flipped out, whoosh it went as he sent it hurling downwards to kill the Commander, but a twist. the commander drew a longsword and dashed the flying dagger to the side, and it was less than seconds before the two were slashing, clawing, biting, spitting. they were of equal match, but Aeden was strong where Barrett was fast, and although Aedens blows were those of legend, Barrett gained the upper hand by stabbing Aeden in the neck. Aeden would most likely die now, the dagger had been poisoned and had now spilled his lifeblood, but the great commander would not go down so easily. Barrett found himself hurling downwards, trying to clutch for Aedens bladebelt, but Barrett would never touch the soft leather, only fall forever downwards into failure and regret.

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