The note. The note.
It was suspicious, was it not? The anxiety had left Felix tugging irritably at his jet black locks. The message had indicated that a senior servant of Tevinter had something of immense value to deliver to him. Coin? Probably not. An artifact, letters or maybe information. Whatever they had, this senior servant of Tevinter whom exactly did he serve
? House Cato, perhaps. That is what he longed for. Roma had not responded to his letters in quite some time. Perhaps this servant had smuggled them out of Tevinter for Roma, maybe... maybe this servant would take him to him. Like a pin pressing on his stomach, the desire was so strong that it was painful, so much that he could not believe it to be true. He dare not.
Felix had been fooled once before. Not deceived, or baited, perhaps, but that Elven women who called herself Magister had invited him in a manner not dissimilar to this note. She had been cordial, true, the two had even parted with a shake of the hand. But she had done something that Felix had not even begun to forget. In the irreverence of her cruel ghastly words, she had insinuated him to be... to be... the bastard child born of inscst.
"Forever pure" muttered to himself softly, "forever pure." he repeated, reciting his family motto under his breath as he sought to dispel the lingering words of the Elf, so that he could focus on the note scrunched in his sketiale hand.
In moments like this, his better senses told him to bring it to Adrienne. Get her take. But he had not the time. The servant had given him until the end of the hour, and not a second later. Besides - Felix had not told Adrienne about Roma, he'd wanted to, but just never known how. The shy boy had clammed up whenever his personal and private life had come up in conversation. Besides, what with her 'rambles' as she called them, Felix had decided the two were not best suited to the personal talk of love and... and... erm. intimacy.
It was the young Magister's naivety that settled his decision in the end. His want to believe in the genuinity of the message. It had not dawned on him that the time limit had been imposed precisely to stop him being joined by friends. Nor in his subconscious quest to discover signs of Romulus Cato had he noticed the absence of any connection to him beyond the abstract implication. And so, against his better judgement, Felix Velenia had wandered around Hightown, stalking the Hightown mansions, debating what to do in his mind.
He'd loitered in the spacious courtyard for about twenty minutes before he dispelled his lingering worries, and approached the great wooden door cautiously. When he placed his pasty palm flat on the faded red door, it inched open slightly. As the note had implied. "Hello?" he called out, as he stepped carefully through the hallway, into the mansions great hall, a room with damaged paintings, torn carpets and little furniture, a chilling ambience that wasn't helped by the echo of his soft croaky voice.