His name was Raphael Trevelyan, a fact that made Hannah incredibly irritable and prone to grumbling. She hated pretty noblemen on the best of days, so the fact that the entire village would not shut up about him made the past week particularly annoying.
“He’s so dreamy,” Flissa sighed with a slightly far-off look as she took away the last of the dishes from the midday rush. “And so tall… And have you seen him smile? So handsome.”
Hannah tried really hard not to roll her eyes so she focused on her cup of mead instead. This wasn’t the first time, nor the first woman, to wax poetic about the newly-arrived cousin to the Herald. There were plenty of rumors flying about, but outside of the Chantry the most popular topic of conversation was the man’s relationship status. Or lack thereof.
“I’m sure he enjoys using that smile to seduce many women willing to spread their legs for him,” she said with a shrug.
Flissa grimaced. “You don’t have to be so crude.”
“I’m surrounded by assholes all day. I call it self-defense,” Hannah ground out. She leaned in and lowered her voice, “You want to know what that swine Wardell said to me today? He had the gall to tell me that I got an Inquisition post because I did sexual favors for the Commander. On my knees, to be specific.”
Flissa gasped. “He did not!”
“And when I loudly protested, he pretended like I’m an emotional female who’s being terribly dramatic. I had to leave before I jabbed him with my caliper.”
Master Wardell had become a pain in Hannah’s ass the moment he got hired by the Inquisition to help with the workload and lend his reputation to the engineers already working there. Unfortunately, he was an older man who didn’t see women as equally capable creatures and his continuous harassment made working a real chore some days. On those days, Hannah started drinking early.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Flissa said sympathetically. “More mead?”
“Yes, please.”
The alcohol hummed pleasantly in her veins, though it did little to improve her mood. Flissa was not the greatest conversationalist available, but none of the usual crew was free to keep her company. Perhaps once she finished her cup, she could go bother Krem or Rylen.
The door on the other side of the tavern opened and in came Raphael Trevelyan, caring a dead ram on his shoulders while a large bunch of herbs swung from his belt at the hip. Flissa immediately lit up and turned to attend to him, ignoring Hannah and her quiet groan of annoyance.
“Raphael!” she exclaimed. “How was the hunt?”
The tops of his ears colored a little, but the smile he gave Flissa was radiant. Suddenly Hannah understood why this man had become so popular with the ladies and vowed to herself not to fall for his charms. It would help if she could continue to avoid him, but her cup was nowhere near empty so she couldn’t leave just yet.
“I’m surprised how plentiful the game is in these parts,” he explained in his pleasantly raspy voice. “I had no trouble tracking or killing the ram. I can definitely continue providing you with meat, if you need it. I also found some rosemary and thyme to season your meals.”
“Thank you. You are Maker-sent,” Flissa said and pointed him towards the door behind the bar. “Just take it to the back room and leave it on the kitchen table. Me and my staff will take care of everything else.”
“Of course,” he replied.
Hannah tried her best not to stare after him, but he must have felt her eyes, because he turned in the door frame at the last second and immediately recognized her, his dark eyes brightening with a smile.
Shit.
As he vanished in the back room, Hannah felt panic settle in her stomach - she somehow knew he’d soon return. Ever since she had learned who he was, she did her best to avoid him, because she also knew she had a weakness for men like Raphael Trevelyan: attractive, attentive, exciting - and willing to move on at a drop of a hat. She could tell he was interested in her, so she had made sure to stay as far away as possible. Unfortunately, she was still trying to down a cup of mead when he returned to the main bar area and moved to lean against the counter next to her.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he intoned while wearing single most approachable expression ever invented. “I’ve been meaning to properly introduce myself. I’m Raphael.”
Hannah pondered the merits of ignoring the outstretched hand and just running away, but the sheer rudeness of such an act went against her upbringing. She grasped his hand and briefly shook it.
“Hannah,” she said with a nod. “I remember you. Last time we met, you were casually lounging on some potatoes.”
The brilliant blush that rapidly painted his face shocked Hannah into staring at him. She wasn’t used to men who blushed. The last time she saw a blushing man she accidentally overheard the Herald inquire about Commander Cullen’s potential vows of chastity, and that was months ago.
“Not my finest moment,” Raphael admitted. “That’s what I get for trying to avoid a stampede of unruly children.”
Hannah chuckled.
“Yeah, they can be a handful sometimes. But they’re good kids, if you properly direct their energy.”
“I’m sure they’re learning loads of fun things, with a teacher like yourself,” he said with a grin.
Hannah frowned. “A teacher?” she asked and then the thought clarified in her head. “Oh! No no no. Teaching children is not my responsibility; that’s Sister Hilda’s job. I occasionally babysit them when there’s nobody else available to make sure nothing horrible happens to them. It usually involves snowball fights and endless games of tag.”
It was his turn to frown. “Oh, I didn’t realize… Sorry! What do you do, then?”
“I’m a part of the engineering team. I design bridges, watchtowers, and the like.”
And the moment of truth had arrived. Hannah watched as Raphael’s brain computed the information she had given him, only to reach a conclusion she knew was coming. When the words finally came out of his mouth, it was almost a relief to hear them.
“I didn’t know women did engineering work.”
To his credit, at least he wasn’t belligerent towards her and didn’t immediately try to invalidate her existence the way Master Wardell usually did. Still, she lost any remaining desire to finish her cup of mead, so she hopped off her stool and gathered her things.
“And yet here I am, defying all expectation,” she bit out. “Pissing off men who feel like I don’t belong.”
He became defensive at once. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Sure you didn’t,” she deadpanned. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Flissa silently signalling her to stop talking, but Hannah had had enough for the day. Perhaps she shouldn’t have chugged all that mead this early in the day, but either way she looked at it, she was done with men and their shenanigans. “Sorry, I’m suddenly not in the mood for a casual conversation. Perhaps you should find Lady Montilyet - she’s much better at appealing to the whimsies of big lords like yourself.”
Raphael’s entire countenance shifted at once, a flash of hurt brightening his eyes before cold fury transformed his handsome features into an angry mask; he was no longer leaning or acting casual.
“I’m not a lord,” he bit out slowly. “Or a part of nobility. I’m simply a man and you’re being unfair to me.”
"Oh, but you are a lord,” she said. “The name 'Trevelyan' trails after you like a particularly bad fart, making it miserable for the rest of us. The Chantry already educated the entire village on how lovely your family is. You won’t fool me.”
She stopped, feeling dizzy. The mead had been stronger than she anticipated and it hit her harder than it should have. The entire situation was getting ridiculous anyway, and beyond saving, so she quickly swiped a hand over her face and turned to go.
“You know what? Forget it,” she said. “I’ll leave before I get in trouble for sassing a noble and you can go on and have yourself a fantastic rest of the day.”
If Raphael had anything else to say, it stayed firmly shut behind his clenched jaw as he glared at Hannah with intense anger. She briefly wondered if she should stay and rile him up into arguing more, but she promptly abandoned the thought. This just wasn’t her day. She left the tavern, hoping to get as far away from the man as she could.
Knight-Captain Rylen turned out to be an invaluable source of information.
“The morning drills start at half an hour after the sixth bell - everybody runs a lap around the lake as a warm up. We’re usually back by the time breakfast is ready and we resume afterwards with weapons training until the midday meal. Afternoons are spent in more specialized training or any additional drills that need to be refreshed with new recruits,” he explained, then paused. “Are you sure you’re up for it? You still seem a little malnourished.”
Raphael frowned.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I may not be up for a full day of training, but starting with a morning run would do me a world of good.”
“Does the Herald know about this plan of yours?” Rylen asked with a smirk.
Raphael rolled his eyes. “Lily can’t keep me confined forever. I’m not made of glass, I’ll be fine.”
Rylen chuckled. “If you say so! But if she comes after me for this, I’ll send her straight to you.”
“Please do. I’m not exactly afraid of her,” Raphael said with a smirk.
He was going to carry on questioning Rylen, when out of the corner of his eye he noticed movement around the trebuchets. On a closer inspection, he recognized Hannah and Commander Cullen, walking around the equipment and animatedly discussing something, and his mood soured at once.
It pissed him off that even after the unfair berating Hannah had given him at the tavern, he still couldn’t stop thinking about her. In his head he would replay their conversation and come up with new and increasingly more scathing replies to her comments, secretly hoping he would have a future opportunity to use them. Her assumptions had cut him to the core and he wanted her to know how wrong she was. Then he would have a peace of mind and he’d be able to forget her completely.
“Should I leave you to stare after the pretty girl?” Rylen asked with a knowing grin.
Caught doing exactly that, Raphael felt his face warm with embarrassment.
“I’m not staring. I’m just curious what’s happening over there,” he said and tried for a nonchalant shrug.
Rylen raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying the misdirection.
“Well, our dear Hannah is helping Commander Cullen calibrate the trebuchets,” he explained. “It usually ends with them shouting at each other because Cullen likes to do things by the book, while Hannah likes to use some engineering tricks she knows to speed up the process. Nobody likes to be in their immediate vicinity when it all goes down, but it sure makes for a good show.”
Raphael frowned. “Why would she be dealing with military equipment? Isn’t her job to design bridges and watch towers?”
“Because she’s really smart?” Rylen replied, as if that was obvious. “She’s talented with the numbers and knows the kinds of maths I only vaguely heard about. Cullen tries his best not to admit that having her around has cut a lot of his paperwork in half, but she’s been invaluable. Yes, she does design bridges and watch towers, but she’s so much more than that.”
This explanation was a lot more complimentary than Raphael had expected, so he continued glaring in Hannah’s general direction, willing her to do something heinous that would expose the rest of the world to her vile disposition.
“You have something against Hannah?” Rylen asked.
Raphael forced himself to look back at Rylen, though his scowl refused to go away. “She’s a prideful woman filled with prejudices. I can’t say I enjoy her presence,” he said, his tone sour.
Rylen’s eyebrows vanished into his helmet in surprise, closely followed by an outburst of mirth.
“Well, that’s interesting. Let me guess: you said something unsavory towards the lass and she gave you such a thorough what-for that your ancestors felt it,” he said with a wide grin. “What was it? Did you try flirting with her? Or did you discount her work? That tends to get her going pretty quickly.”
The fact that Rylen had such a ready-made comment blew wind out of Raphael’s puffed up sails, his bubbling anger simmering down to a mere annoyance under his skin. He frowned.
“Wait, that happens often?”
A long-suffering sigh escaped Rylen’s mouth as he nodded.
“A lot more than you think,” he said. “You have a young, pretty woman who is sharp as a whip, who works in a field that is still very much dominated by men. I’ve heard plenty of stories of what she had to put up with in the months since she joined the Inquisition. I shudder to think what she dealt with before.”
Raphael crossed his arms and continued glaring. “Maybe if she tried being nicer she wouldn’t have to deal with bullshit,” he quipped, willing himself to stay angry.
“Lad, let me put it to you plain,” Rylen said, his voice going hard. “The first Orlesian noble to show up to ask for help with his roads saw Hannah and decided she’d be perfect as his concubine. He actually tried to buy her from the Inquisition! Then there was some burly asshole from the Bannorn who straight up propositioned her, and when she rebuked him, he threatened to take her by force so he could, and I quote, break her spirit. And I’m sure there are others who made comments that I don’t know about. Frankly, I’m shocked she interacts with any men to begin with; I’d castrate them all on sight.”
No amount of previous hurt or anger could have prepared Raphael for this information. He stared at Rylen for what felt like an eternity, completely gobsmacked, before his mouth regained its function again.
“That’s awful,” he whispered. “I had no idea.”
Rylen shrugged again, though his countenance seemed to soften a little.
“Most people don’t,” he continued. “If she complains, it’s usually to Krem or myself. Flissa from the tavern also gets to hear some of the stories by the fact she provides the alcohol. We try to protect Hannah from the assholes who would mean her harm, but sometimes the only defense she has is that sharp tongue of hers. So if that bothers you so much, don’t tease or taunt her and your pride will remain intact.”
Her heated words rang through Raphael’s head once again, but this time he remembered the tired timbre of her voice and the almost-empty cup of mead that sat on the bar counter next to her. If she had started drinking just past midday, it meant that she had had a terrible day already and his carelessly phrased questions only added fuel to the fire. It still didn’t excuse her biting words, but he now had a better understanding of what had happened that day.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he told Rylen. “It’s not like I plan on being in her path anytime soon.”
Rylen snorted in reply. “It’s a small village, lad. You’ll have to try really hard.”
As Raphael once again glanced towards Hannah, their eyes briefly met and she looked away with a sharp turn of her head, making him feel like the biggest asshole in the world.
