It’s not as bad as it could be, it’s to be sure, but blood is flowing freely from Varric’s ribs, where the blade of a rogue’s knife had raked across his skin, ripping his shirt. The blow had sent him reeling, but he’d managed to dispatch the enemy with a heavy hit from blade of Bianca’s stirrup, which had done worse damage by tearing at the throat of the Dwarf who’d nearly gutted him.
But it isn’t some battlefield that had left Varric wounded–no, these assassins have been after him for some time. People, he suspects, sent by Bogdan Vasca, no doubt after his now-wife’s invention; but the crossbow bearing her namesake had been spared returning to the hands of that greedy son of a bitch.
Bianca had promised him this matter would be resolved before Bogdan could send more assassins, but it looks as if her husband hadn’t honored her word, or else disregarded it. No surprise to Varric, that fact. The poor woman’s seen as nothing more than a meal ticket these days. A means to an end, the machine by which the Vasca line will go on.
In another life, things might have been different.
Despite having no time to muse over such things, he does anyways as he stumbles out into the hall, the dead bodies of two Carta assassins lying dead on his chamber floor, blood seeping into the rug which is blessedly red, yet still it’ll require some heavy cleaning.
He manages to get only as far as the Great Hall before the pain in his ribs brings him to a knee with a cry of pain; somewhere nearby, he registers a figure sitting at one of the tables, but the pain is so blinding he can’t do much but squeeze his eyes shut, and dig fingers tight against the wound to try and stop the bleeding.
The hall had been more or less empty, save for Hancock and a few other stragglers from lunch, but maybe that was for the best, as much as Varric appreciated drama, the elf couldn’t imagine this was the kind of drama he liked.
He got up from his seat immediately and rushed to the dwarf, stripping the scarf from around his neck and pressing it to the wound while he helped the other man to lay back carefully. After calling to the others around to find help, Hancock turned all of his attention to Varric.
“Hey, stay with me, alright? Help is coming.” The elf murmured, one hand moving to the other’s shoulder while the other kept the cloth firmly in place over the wound. “What happened? Who did this?”
