As Within

Chapter Three

Daud hated every minute of this.

The propriety, the false smiles, the nobles' backhanded compliments—all of it. He would have preferred a long, silent night spent locked in his quarters by himself than endure another moment of this complete bullshit waste of time. His headache had become worse, his temples all but throbbing. The line for the nobles to present the Empress with their gifts—the gifts that Daud had gone through several hours earlier—seemed endless.

"Do try to not look so bored," Corvo hissed.

"Possible were I not bored," he said, "given that it is hard to look something you're not."

He frowned, but did not say anything further, clasping his hands behind his back. Daud couldn't help but crack a smirk, almost proud of the fact that he had managed to shut Corvo up for once. Not that Corvo was known for being a man of many words, but when he did speak, it tended to be some sort of insult directed at Daud, and quite frankly, he was sick of it. He wanted...

He wanted to go home.

Wherever the hell that was.

It wasn't Dunwall—it hadn't been for years. Even when he had left, even when Corvo had held a sword to his throat, and had told him to never return, he hadn't considered Dunwall his home. It was a place he had lived for years, that was all.

He hadn't been able to find a home in Serkonos either. Not in the home he had shared with his mother, and not in Cullero where he had spent the past sixteen years. Everywhere he went, he felt like nothing more than a lost wanderer, but try as he might, he couldn't find a place to settle down. Every time he thought he had settled down, fate seemed to sweep up off his feet once again, and forced him to leave behind everything he had ever known.

Daud was tired.

Of the blood, the fighting, the corruption—of everything on which Dunwall was built. Perhaps he should have stayed up in the far reaches of Tyvia, away from any recognizable civilization.

He drummed his fingers on the hilt of the blade, watching as a noblewoman from Redmoor approached the throne, waving forward two servants holding gifts.

"Lady Lenora Preston," Emily said, forcing a smile. "I see that your husband is not with you."

"Alas there was...an incident back home, and he was unable to attend. He sends his regards." Lady Preston dropped into a bow so low, had her circlet not been pinned to her auburn hair, it would have fallen off. She straightened, waving forward her servants. One kneeled, presenting a box which Emily unwrapped to unveil a bust of her likeness plated in gold.

Daud had never particularly understood the idea behind a gift that served no purpose, but then again, he'd never had a reason for simply having something. Everything he had ever purchased needed to serve a purpose because at the drop of a hat, he could be halfway across the Isles, and anything unnecessary would have to be left behind. Emily, he supposed, did not have this problem. Her life was here, in Dunwall, and here she would rule, until she died, or until her Empire crumbled into the sea.

Still, as frivolous as Lady Preston's first gift had been, Daud wished the second had been half as similar. It would have been easier. It would have been better for all of them. But Daud rarely seemed to catch a break nowadays, and he wasn't certain why he'd ever expected the Empress' celebrations to not go over poorly. He had been saying that this was a bad idea for days after all.

Now, he was correct, but his rather small victory was nothing short of pyrrhic.

Lady Preston's second gift was precisely what he had warned everyone about. Even though Delilah had all but brought Dunwall to its knees, there were few radicals that still supported the psychotic witch. They called themselves the Circle of the Crowned Roses, and threatened to destroy Emily for all she had done to Delilah. They started riots, burned down buildings, attacked politicians, and everywhere they went, they left behind a rose wrought of gold dipped in blood to signify their involvement. For months, they had been dismissed as nothing more than troublesome, but it was only when one of the Roses had tried to kill Thalia Timsh did the Watch start taking action. They had waited too long to address the problem, however, and now the Roses were out of control. They grew bolder by the day, their attacks becoming more and more frequent, but no matter how many men the Watch sent out, they were still unable to find the leader of the operation.