The silhouette stood stark against the infernal flames. It was a charred figure bound to the towering pyre at the center of the festivities. Yet, the townspeople revolved around it, their faces aglow with firelight as laughter and music filled the air. The macabre celebration churned Jamie's stomach.

'At the end of the day, they're all puppets in the lord's hands,' Jamie thought bitterly, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. He couldn't fathom what lies or accusations the lord had spun to justify such a gruesome display. 'What did he tell them? What crimes did he lay upon her?' The questions gnawed at him.

Beside him, he noticed Maria's hand trembling ever so slightly. Her face was like a cracked mask, fighting to hold together and conceal the turmoil beneath. Fear and anger warred in her eyes, but she fought to keep her composure.

Jamie wanted to offer some support, a reassuring word or gesture, but he dared not draw attention. Any wrong move could put their plan at risk.

'This would be the worst time to falter,' he reminded himself. 'For now, we stand on equal footing.' Jamie knew they couldn't afford to show weakness. Despite the lord's outward semblance of incompetence, Jay's memories painted a different picture. Varic Frosthell was a sadist. But that wasn't his worst part. No, the worst was his cunning smarts, who would move any piece on the board to expand his power. Underestimating him would be a fatal mistake.

Their group moved onward, walking through streets and alleys as they ascended to the higher levels of the city. The path steepened, and the chill in the air sharpened, but the opulence of their surroundings only increased. Few homes dotted this elevated district, but each was more magnificent than the last. Manor houses that spoke of old wealth and careful craftsmanship.

Finally, they approached the grand mansion that crowned the city. A sprawling edifice of dark stone and gleaming glass. The opulence was unmistakable; no expense had been spared to ensure the comfort and prestige of the noble family residing within.

Crossing the threshold, they felt a rush of warm air that vanquished the freezing cold clinging to their clothes and skin.

Even Jamie, whose body was used to the harsh northern climate, felt a profound relief as the warmth seeped into his bones. The sensation brought Jay to mind. Glancing around, Jamie realized with a flicker of concern that Jay was nowhere to be seen.

'Where could he have gone?' Jamie wondered, masking his worry as he scanned the opulent hall.

The entire entourage moved through the corridors of the mansion, their footsteps muffled by lush carpets. As they progressed, each chamber they passed through seemed more expensive than the last. It was a deliberate display of wealth and power.

Jamie walked alongside Maria, his keen eyes taking in every detail. 'Is he trying to buy time, or simply intimidate us with his extravagance?' he wondered, leaning toward the latter. The ostentatious display felt like a calculated move to unsettle them, to remind them of the vast resources at Lord Varric's disposal.

Without warning, Lord Varric halted in one of the elongated galleries. The corridor stretched ahead, filled by towering portraits that almost reached the ceiling. Each painting portrayed a different man. Yet there was a unifying trend among them. All wore formidable war armor with the emblem of FrostHell.

Pausing before one particularly imposing portrait, Varric turned to them. "We have stood guard over the North for more than two millennia," he proclaimed. "Long before the empire drew its first breath. Our roots are among the deepest and strongest on this continent."

Jamie suppressed a wry smile. 'Definitely the latter,' he confirmed to himself. The lord's need to assert his house's superiority was palpable. Beside him, Maria offered only a noncommittal "Hmm," her expression neutral. But Jamie could sense the tension beneath her composed facade. This was more than a tour. It was a strategic maneuver in the silent game of influence between their two houses.

The House of Hafenstadt, though newer and hailing from the south, shared a similar purpose with FrostHell. They were also born for the protection and expansion of their region. However, there was an underlying issue that Jamie was acutely aware of. Something the lord was not mentioning to keep his facade.

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Their journey resumed. Ornate doors swung open before them, revealing the grand hall.

At the far end of the hall, atop raised steps, stood a throne of dark iron. Lord Varric ascended the steps with a measured pace, his heavy fur cloak trailing behind him. He settled onto the throne with an air of authority.

Flanking him were two figures who commanded attention. To his left sat a young man, strikingly handsome with chiseled features and eyes as sharp. His short, raven-black hair contrasted with the silver of his heavy armor. His posture was rigid, one hand resting on the hilt of a greatsword at his side, ever ready for battle.

To Varric's right was a young woman whose beauty was otherworldly. Long silver hair flowed over her shoulders. It framed her face, marked by high cheekbones and deep blue eyes. She held a staff taller than herself. At its top was a crystal that glowed with an azure light.

Both youths surveyed Jamie and Maria with piercing gazes. It was as if they were measuring the worth of the newcomers, weighing them against some unseen scale.

Jamie felt the weight of their stares but met their eyes. He knew that appearances were everything in these moments, and any sign of weakness could be exploited. Beside him, Maria stood tall, her chin lifted in quiet defiance.

Varric looked over Maria. His eyes bore into hers with a predatory gleam, the corners of his thin lips curling into a smug smile.

"Tell me, Maria von Hafenstadt," Varric intoned. "You have just arrived. Would you prefer to rest from your journey, or shall we proceed to negotiations?"

His tone dripped with feigned courtesy, barely masking the underlying condescension. He was a hunter toying with his prey, relishing each moment as he tightened the noose.

Maria met his gaze, her posture poised and dignified. Despite the extravagance surrounding her, she remained a figure of composed elegance.

"At this moment," she replied evenly, "my foremost priority is the safety of my uncle. Thus, I wish to see him."

A flicker of amusement crossed Varric's face, as if he'd anticipated her response. He reveled in the illusion of control, savoring each move in this game of wits. "All in due time," he said smoothly. "For now, I have presented you with two options."

Maria inclined her head, her expression betraying nothing. "In that case, you leave me little choice. I have no desire to prolong my stay unnecessarily. My city needs me, so let us proceed to negotiation."

Jamie stood a few paces behind her, his senses alert to anything around them. He could sense the subtle traps being laid, the unspoken threats coiled beneath polite words. Leaving this place, he knew, would not be as simple as concluding a discussion.

"Excellent," Varric replied, his eyes narrowing as a sly smile spread across his face. "I, too, prefer to get straight to the point."

He gestured to the elaborate seating arrangements. There was a semicircle of high-backed chairs upholstered in rich velvet, positioned before his ornate throne. Maria sat in the center, while her captains sat around her.

Jamie kept himself standing, right behind her. The bard couldn't shake the feeling of being on display, like actors on a stage set for the lord's amusement.

"You called me here to negotiate," Maria began, her tone firm yet courteous. "What is it that you propose?"

Varric settled into his throne, resting his hands on the carved armrests. "Given the offenses done by your uncle," he began, his voice carrying a rehearsed gravitas, "I have determined my demands. I trust you know them."

"Yes," Maria affirmed, her gaze steady. "I am aware of your stated terms."

"Splendid." Varric leaned forward, a glint of triumph in his eyes. "Then we have but one final matter to address. The marriage. It would only be proper to allow you the courtesy of choosing your partner, wouldn't it?" His words dripped with mock benevolence as he allowed a cruel smile to twist his lips.

Maria arched an eyebrow, feigning a mild surprise. "Oh? Is that so?"

"Indeed," Varric continued, gesturing to his left. "First, my son, Andrik Frosthell. A formidable War Fighter, renowned for his prowess in battle and exceptional ability to lead troops."

"Your other option," Varric said, turning to his right, "is my daughter, Serana Frosthell. She is one of the most powerful mages in the North, the very cornerstone of our city's defenses."

Maria allowed a hint of a smile to touch her lips. "Interesting choices," she remarked, her voice carrying a subtle note of intrigue.

Jamie observed the exchange, noting the tension that flickered in Varric's expression. This was not the reaction the lord had anticipated. He had expected discomfort, perhaps even desperation. Yet Maria stood unfazed, her composure unwavering. The subtle shift in Varric's demeanor did not escape Jamie's notice. It was as if the lord had tasted something bitter.

"They are both admirable options," Maria continued, her eyes meeting those of Andrik and Serana. "However," she paused, allowing the word to linger in the air, "I prefer the third option."

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