Thornton, The Hunter (DA:I ficlet)

DA:I multiplayer ficlets: Reaver, Legionnaire, Hunter, Assassin, Arcane Warrior, Templar, Elementalist, Archer, Alchemist, Necromancer, Keeper, Katari

Varric had grown used to a procession of unfamiliar faces making their way in and out of the Great Hall and generally ignored their comings and goings. One morning, though, his eye was caught when a man walked in wearing a flared-brimmed hat so impressive as to strike envy into Cole’s heart. The hat-wearer was a comparatively plain man, weather-beaten, dark-skinned, and, aside from the hat, simply dressed, with a heavy bow strapped onto his back. Varric expected the stranger to stride down the great hall to approach the throne, or turn to his left to meet with Josephine, or take the door behind Varric to access the tower. To Varric’s surprise, the man stopped when he reached Varric and stood there staring at him.

“Do I owe you money, or…?” Varric asked lightly.

“Varric Tethras,” the man said, his voice imbuing each syllable with significance. “It is you, isn’t it? The writer?”

“Guilty as charged,” Varric said. “Always good to meet a fan,” he added, hoping that his guess was correct. A shockingly large number of people were somehow convinced that one or another book of his was a direct attack on their character and heritage. If this man was among their number, he’d have to make a quick escape. This was why he preferred to stand close to the tower door - it gave easy access to multiple escape routes.

“I just wanted to say that you spin a fine tale, Ser Tethras.” Good, he had guessed correctly. “I first discovered your work when I was scouting in the Frostbacks. A freak storm blew up, and I had to seek shelter in a rundown hunting cabin. I wound up snowbound there for four days. The only thing standing between me and utter boredom was the copy of Hard in Hightown I found sitting on a table. I read it three times before the wind shifted and I was able to move on. Took the book with me, too.”

“You weren’t sick to death of it by then?” Varric asked. He knew that he could write a page turner, but had little confidence in his books’ staying power.

“No, not at all! I kept noticing new details. It reminded me of an extended scouting mission, where you keep picking up more and more the longer you observe.” The man was smiling at the memory and his eyes were shining. He was either a talented actor, or obviously sincere.