"I've decided that I don't like Kirkwall," Tabris mentioned off handedly to her mabari. The dog in question huffed in agreement. "It's an inferno in here, smells like Oghren's socks, and everyone has a suck-lemons look. I mean, Maker, even the birds look pissed off." She gestured towards a raven-shaped bird, one she had never seen before. The mabari looked up, woofed, and the bird hissed back.

Tabris sighed as she sauntered deeper into Low Town. Being in full armor was not her choice, but being told repeatedly that if she didn't look official and intimidating enough, she would get her money and probably socks stolen. And Maker forbid she got her socks stolen. Grey Warden armor was not her favorite, it was too heavy and flashy, screaming, "Look at me! I do important things! WORSHIP ME!" No, no, she preferred Dwarven armor. Those bastards know what the hell they are doing when they craft armor. However, musing how impractical her armor was is not why she arrived to Kirkwall.

Tabris shoved her hand into one of the many pockets she had, grabbing a crumpled piece of paper. Written on it was incredibly curvy handwriting, almost to the point to where Tabris couldn't even read it.

Dear Grey Wardens,

It has come to my attention that many Kirkwall mages are being recruited into the Grey Wardens. They have been taken away by the dozens over the past few years. I have contacted other Circles to be informed that not nearly as many mages have been recruited. I formally request one of your officials to please explain to me in person as to why this is. I await an explanation.

Sincerely,

Knigh- Commander Meredith

Tabris raised her eyebrow at the letter. She didn't know why she was chosen to go. Why not Stroud? That mellow-dramatic Orelsian had been here before during the Qunari attacks. But nope! Send the elf who doesn't do well with people to solve the problem. Yup, that's why the Wardens are known for their tact. She rolled her eyes. And couldn't this Meredith at least put some directions on here?

A middle-aged man leered at her as she passed, but her well practiced no-nonsense glare made him scamper off. Maker, she hated this place.

Alistair had warned her of Meredith before she set off. The king described her, in only a way he could, "A sneaky she-beast that swoops better than Morrigan." Needless to say, it didn't improve her mood about being sent off to the City of Chains.

The minutes ticked by, and still no sign that said, "This way to Meredith!" Nope, just rotting rat corpses and toothless men. She tried asking people several times where the hell she was and where to go, but they all either cowered away from her or sneered. The boiling sun made her sweat everywhere and she began to develop a headache. Patience running thin, she approached one last person. A man with sunbaked skin, greasy hair and an unkempt beard gave her a suspicious look when she approached.

"Not a step further! I bet you run with that stupid gang my niece started! Always stealing my food and meddling with political affairs! No! I'm sick of it! Back, I say!" he wailed, flailing his arms with wide eyes. He then ran with speed that made Tabris feel vaguely jealous. Sadly, her patience snapped. It was hot, she did not want to be here, no one was helping, and her socks were getting soggy with sweat.

Fury rolled off her as she stomped her way up to what she assumed was a tavern. Who ever thought a man being hanged in the front had some seriously disturbed curb appeal tastes, but that was not her problem right now. She kicked open the door with enough force for one of the hinges to break. Everyone inside immediately shut up, wide-eyes.

"Alright, LISTEN UP!" the tiny elf roared. She was met with silence. "I'm trying to find Knight-Commander Meredith! Which one of you Kirkwallers know where the hell she is?"

Everyone, too afraid to correct her on the correct use of term for a Kirkwall citizen, stayed quiet. Her mabari decided to bristle with anger for effect. "If no one tells me where this mage-hatin' Templar is, I swear to Andraste I'll make someone WISH they told me!"

Someone spit out their beer, going into a coughing fit. Tabris' eyes zeroed in on him and he gulped. "You there!" He sat stock-still. "Tell me!"

"Duuhh-I uuhh…uuuh…" he sputtered. She made a beeline towards him. Her armor glistened, indeed giving off the 'Look at me! I do important things' effect. The elf got right up into his face.

"How. Do. I. Get. To. Meredith," she seethed. The tension in the air was so thick you could punch it.

A dwarf, not much shorter than Tabris, sauntered up like this was normal. "Meredith! Oh, she's at the Gallows. Just head east here a bit and take a boat there, its only a ten minute ride."

Tabris stood up, fully composed and nodded. She could feel the anger melting away. "Thank you very much. Have a nice day, everyone," she said calmly, surprising even her self. And with that, she quietly walked out with no shame, her mabari happily trotting after her. It was silent in the tavern before people began to mutter in confusion.

"You okay, Sebastian?" Varric asked, patting the victimized human's shoulder.

The former prince blinked, dazed. "I think so… what… what was that?"

"A Grey Warden, by the looks of it. Don't take it personally, they all get a little high-strung," Anders casually mentioned as he sipped his beer, although he held a knowing smirk.

Just then, the door swung open again, and everyone flinched. The famous Hawke blinked in confusion before scuttling to her companions. "Did I miss something?" she asked.

"No," Isabella laughed, patting an open seat for her friend to take. "Just a crazy Ferelden."

Xxxxxx

Aaah, that was fun! I do not own these characters, they belong to Bioware!