The Kirkwall guards simply don’t listen to certain people. Those that always have complaints to make, the drunks, or any of the guard’s wives who speak disparagingly about them. There was one among the ranks who listened to them all, Jill.
Working on a lock that was unfamiliar to her, she’s being quiet, proving herself against it until suddenly she isn’t. Jill drops the lock and her tools, standing back with her hands empty in an effort to show she’s unarmed. She breathes out that this isn’t what it looks like- because she doesn’t want to die and it’s the truth.
“I got a tip that someone has a trap planned for you. I couldn’t go to my Captain with the information, he wouldn’t listen to me.” Of course, her captain wouldn’t listen; she’s a woman and the information came from his best friend’s wife. Jill keeps all of her attention on Arishok, trying to ignore the Qunari who is behind her. She’s spent enough time near their ranks to know they defer to the big one, so that’s who she’ll keep looking at. Her hands don’t shake despite the fear, even as a bead of sweat rolls down from her brow and slips down her cheek. “I didn’t think you’d take me seriously if I came here and told you. I broke in in an effort to see if the information was reliable.”
Her eyes dart to the side over to the box that she had been working on with the same insignia as the drawing in her pocket. “That is the only box that has the sign I was told to look for.” Jill swallows, and focuses on just breathing and not the twist in her stomach- she doesn’t want to die like this. “Can I open the box?” She has to ask, she wants to know what someone had been planning- if this was all a setup to get rid of her, or if someone had planned something sinister against the Qunari.
The little guard was allowed to explain. As long as the Arishok wields composure, the others would do the same. He watched, and he waited. Looked at her tools askew on the ground, then her. “You believe one of the people of Kirkwall sends us a trap.”
The Arishok lifted his chin, making eye contact with the qunari behind her. His stance changed, the staff in his hand twisting tightly. It was this one’s duty to vet all goods coming into the compound. This news the guard brought suggested a danger has slipped through, possibly. He stepped in closer to hear what was being said, to see this “sign” on the box he did not recognize for himself, and trapping her in closer quarters than before.
“The key,” demands the Arishok. A chain of rope is raised from the other qunari’s pocket, one of the keys looped on it chosen and offered to the Arishok, who indicates with a motion of his head to pass it off to her. It awaits her taking. “You suggest any of those outside of these walls would give you a warning to spare us an attack?” He doubted it was possible, but he would hear it from the mouth of the guard. Or her confession for planting something nefarious just now.
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