Chapter Text
It was the night, again, yet not that late this time. Half an hour had passed since the curfew and, as it is mandatory in quality of Knight-Commander, I was checking all cells were occupied by their assigned occupants first and foremost, and only by them as a secondary objective. Many have protested against the alleged unnecessariness of this measure, a list of course spearheaded by Orsino who, adhering to his usual hypocrisy, ran his own nightly check parallel to mine and even had the audacity to believe such activity remained secret. Thus far, such checks didn’t reveal anything more worrying than nightly trysts or minor lyrium smuggling (both of them punished accordingly, of course); but tonight the cell belonging to Enchanter Agnes was suspiciously dim lighted (too low to be reading at night, too high to be sleeping) and the lock on her door suspiciously unlocked. It only took a moment to adopt a defensive stance, body angled in such a way that Certainty could be drawn swiftly and safely in an enclosed environment, and push the door open to find-
—Orsino!
The First Enchanter of the Gallows was found kneeling over the otherwise empty cell’s fireplace and accompanied by a small orb of greenish magical light, his hands reaching for something among the soot and ash. Being honest, the light was too dim and poorly placed for me to have identified the intruder by looks alone, but somehow the silhouette, stance and movements were enough to cast away any shade of doubt from my mind. Must have been the signature staff resting against the wall. The same one I have just been made aware of. No need to think further on this subject.
—Meredith!
Orsino jumped on his feet like a cat caught next to a cake with his whiskers dripping cream, in a way very unbecoming of his age that will be regretted later (“Good”, Meredith thought, “no crime without its punishment”). To his credit, the elven mage smoothed his tunic in a swift motion and started answering right before being asked.
—Enchanter Agnes is nowhere to be found, particularly not in her cell, thus in quality of First Enchanter I felt the need to investigate why.
—To what purpose?
The question was very pointedly accusing Orsino of tampering with proof and potentially covering for Apostasy. Because what other thing could a high-ranking mage be doing hiding in a disappeared Enchanter’s cell?
—To inform you providing all relevant clues and then ask for your help in retrieving her.
The answer was delivered so matter-of-factly, directly and without a second thought that it had to be true. And it was true, at this point I knew Orsino well enough to tell when there was a chance he lied. He genuinely seemed to trust me with a matter as delicate as this. Was it because of my dealing with shameful Karan and forgiveness of young Izian? This line of thought was about to drag me through the path of rightful pride before I looked further into the crime scene, for there had doubtlessly been a crime.
The fireplace was cold, but it smelled faintly of smoke. Fresh smoke, distinct from the scent arising from the disturbed fireplace. And there was a telling vibration in the edge of perception that made her hair stand on edge ever so slightly… The Fade had been summoned here recently. The piquancy of a Primal spell was apparent, Fire would be the first suspect; but then there was a more subtle hint underneath… Creation? Not healing. Restoration perhaps? Then the pieces clicked in place.
—What did the note say, Orsino?
Hah! He hesitates! I was correct! He’s been trying to hide evidence! I should have him chained and-
—The Enchanter has been recruited by a cell of Tevinter slavers –He said in the end, admitting his guilt with a tired sigh– For quite a while, it would seem. Her task was to spread the word among other mages, mainly apprentices, and prepare a mass escape for them all to, allegedly, “find a better life” in the Imperium. But, for some reason, Agnes decided to flee with them today.
His voice showed how foolish the whole thing was to his eyes. As it should be to anyone’s eyes! How could the others not see it? What have I done wrong to give Tevinter the impression that this is a weakly enforced place full of weak minds to impress with outright heresy? This poison of an idea is to be eradicated from the very root, swiftly and without mercy. But wait…
—If that is so, then why did you burn the note again?
—They held plenty of personal information regarding Agnes, which is no one’s business. My only intent was to protect her privacy and dignity.
—The privacy and dignity of a traitor! Now how will I know what sensitive information has that heathen offered to Tevinter or how many of my mages has she-?! Wait. “They”? There were more than one?!
I was almost glad I could not see Orsino’s face properly (truly, the darkness at this point was putting a completely unnecessary strain to the eyes) because whatever expression he was making would surely deserve a punch, at the very least. His answer sounded slightly ashamed, nonetheless, so there might yet be hope of him being reasonable and reasonably accepting his due punishment.
—The reconstruction spell produced several incomplete fragments of many notes across the time. Not dated, but it could be inferred from context that each note was separated from the next by around a week. But the Gallows is ironclad, how could she get them from outside…?
Perhaps if the Champion of Dignity didn’t destroy the only available clues I could find an answer! But I am no fool. I know burnt things can sometimes be recovered via specific Creation spells, and despite not doubting Orsino’s capability in that regard, the written word tended to return distorted and twisted from the Fade. Maybe not the first time it’s been rebuilt, existing more as a reflection than a reverie of what once was; but from the second time onwards the item you get is more Fade than reality, and thus you get a distressing number of errors and impossibilities. Repairing the damage again would only do more harm to their mission. So they’ll have to make do with what the circumstances allow. A note a week… A Tevinter cell in Kirkwall… Disappeared today in the evening…
—The Formari trading post! It’s been today and gathers weekly… Could this Agnes have something to do with it?
Now I felt gratitude for not meeting Orsino’s more than likely glare of disapproval at not knowing each and every one of my mages by name and favoured occupation. I have too many things to worry about day after day! Besides, why am I worrying about what a mage could think of me? This impromptu nightly meeting has turned into too equal a ground for comfort.
—Yes… –So far his voice showed to be deep in thought, no judgement to be heard whatsoever– Yes, the Formari! Agnes was part of them, ever since her little sister, Anna, was made Tranquil. Agnes turned towards alchemy and accompanied the Formari Tranquil to the trading post without fault every week since then… Perhaps she didn’t even return from there! Today the market closed later than usual and the last shift Templars-
Orsino closed his mouth before finishing “late shift Templars are too lax in their obligations to notice a single missing mage among Tranquils”, which he didn’t need to because it’s an obvious and well-known weakness of the system. One I’ll need to clash under my heel until it is forged either into a strong point or a missing one. This thought also helped my train of thought avoid entirely the fact that two sisters could be joined both in magic and in Circle just to be set apart by Tranquility. Nothing to do with Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard in any case, not a single reason to feel related.
—But Tranquil Anna has been accounted for. –that much I know, for my memory might not be perfect but my nightly guards are spotless– Had it been a planned escape, she would certainly have taken her sister as well. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely her choice, and the ‘Vints took her by force.
Now that’s a better angle for the whole situation. Not a treason from within, but an attack from outside. That she knows how to handle much better, and allows greater damage to the offending part.
—Maybe if we hurry we could still find them, and take Agnes back unharmed.
—”We”? What makes you think I’ll get one of my mages outside the Gallows at night to pursue an Apostate and some slavers? I am Knight-Commander, and I have an army of Templars under my orders for this specific reason.
—Because, Knight-Commander, mobilizing troops will take precious time and draw unwanted attention that will guarantee the ‘Vints’ expeditious escape, not to speak about the explanations you’ll need to send down the chain of command. But we already know what we are after, can take care of ourselves, and can proceed discreetly around the city.
—”Discreetly”? The Knight-Commander taking a night walk alongside a mage who’s no other than the First Enchanter?
—No, Meredith… A Templar Knight patrolling the night accompanied by a mage infractor, going to thoroughly check his alibi.
I did not like that plan. I did not like it in the slightest. It was too risky, had too little guarantees, anyone could recognize them prompting countless questions and a scandal previously unheard of, Orsino could attempt to escape and go Apostate which would utterly destroy the Circle of Kirkwall’s credibility, and any of her Templars or mages hearing of this would inspire insubordination. This was not going to happen under any circumstances, and I’ll make that clear.
—If you dare move in an ever so slightly suspicious way while out there, Orsino, you’ll draw your last breath right then. Understood?
—Understood.
Maker damn it!
—
It was all, in both of their silent opinions, distressingly easy. At night the training camp was deserted, and among the pieces of armor not duly returned to the armory there was a more-or-less matching set fit for Meredith, helmet and all to cover her too well-known face. It was far from comfortable, but she could fight with this, even if she had to leave Certainty behind and replace it with a nondescript greatsword. Most of the moment was spent in silent introspection reprimanding herself for vanity, as becoming commonplace by getting rid of her hard-won distinctions should not be such a hard blow to her psyche. But she was a Knight-Commander! She worked herself to the bone in service to the Maker and Andraste’s justice! Not a single step she climbed without having deserved it many times over! And now her duty demanded of her anonymity and discretion. Was she doing something wrong? Was this truly so bad, or just an attack to her pride she ought to overcome for the sake of her charge? If the Maker didn’t bestow the answer to her soon, she can at least hope crushing some Tevinter bastards would bring enough peace instead.
On his side, Orsino was surprised to find some casual-looking clothes among the least used corners of his wardrobe. They even fit just fine, and had a hard time recognizing himself in the mirror, after so many years of looking the part. Somehow this made a weight lift off his shoulders. He might be performing the same duty, but at least he could do it away from so many judging eyes… At least, until he found Meredith again, of course. He covered with a hood in the end (in a way that highlighted his elven ears, because a hidden head is suspicious but a cowering elf is commonplace), took a simple walking-staff-looking focus and went to the corridor accorded for the meeting.
At a first glance neither of them could tell the other was exactly the person they were looking for, which was taken as an obvious success even if the instinct forged by familiarity warned them of the obvious stance and walk of the other a few moments later. Without exchanging more than a nod, the incognito rulers of the Gallows headed towards the entrance. If the guards at the gates noticed how both their fists clenched when one of them cheerily exclaimed “Don’t go easy on him, chap!” towards Meredith, they did not show it. The Knight-Commander silently made an extra footnote on the list of things she had to eventually fix.
The streets of Kirkwall didn’t pay much attention to them either. A Templar clad in armor walking in full alert clenching at an obvious criminal’s (maybe an Apostate? Does that count as a staff even?) arm, and an apprehended elf looking shifty and disquieted. Just another night at the City of Chains. The Formari store was at the Docks, farther would have been too much to ask under Meredith’s Knight-Commanderhood, so it was a short trip both in boat and boot. It was closed now, obviously, but a look around revealed a small pub surely pumping smuggled alcohol into criminal throats. Without speaking a word, Meredith dragged Orsino through the door, stomped all the way in, forcefully grabbed Orsino by the hair and yanked him chin-first against the bar, toppling a couple of best-left-unidentified beverages. If the carousers noticed the way Orsino’s eyes expressed surprise and a faint blissful glow over the expected displeasure, they did not show it.
—Tell him what you told me, you rat!
Incognito Meredith commanded, pointing at the braid-bearded dwarf behind the bar, assuming he was the owner. When the aforementioned shrugged and pointed a thumb to a leather-apron-wearing human woman before continuing minding his own business, Meredith took a note to to berate her own racism AND sexism before just crudely gesturing her correction. It would break the character otherwise.
—S-someone stole from the Gallows enchanting shop, across the street. Shady serpent-adorned individuals, they were. I swear! It wasn’t me… I don’t have anything!
To the First Enchanter’s credit, he could speak quite well after such a hit to the chin and with his head pressed against wood. Meredith did not think about how much of it was due to the practice she provided throughout the years.
The owner looked at the elven rascal unamused. Then towards the Templar, clever her for not showing her face when doing something like this on the Docks. She sighed, so so tired. This will be bad for business in any way, but there’s “Famous for snitching to Templars”-level bad and “Burned to the ground in a Templar raid”-level bad, so she made a fast informed choice, pointing her chin towards an old tattooed sailor in a nearby table.
—Hey, Leland, do you know what this armor is talking about? You get a free round if you make her go and not return.
—Huh? Yeah, there were ‘Vints –mandatory pause to spit on the ground, with many others following suit– stalking all haughty-looking ‘round the netmaker’s warehouse, the sixteenth. They didn’t take their eyes off those ghastly Tranquils, I reckon. –mandatory pause to shudder, making a superstitious gesture against bad fortune– If the glowing armors will take them out, the better. Now, get the fancy plum brandy, huh? Me and ma’ friends want our round.
The owner gestured a very firm farewell to the uncomfortable interlopers who, having what they wanted, hastily obliged. Meredith didn’t have the decency to apologize for the stellar performance, Orsino didn’t have the decency to complain beyond softly massaging his offended chin. Thus it became a short silent stroll towards Warehouse 16.
—Opening the lock shouldn’t be difficult. Just a mo-
Orsino’s voice was drowned in the loud metallic “CLINK” of greatsword against chain that followed, not to speak about the heavy metal door being pushed as the incognito Knight-Commander stormed inside. There died the First Enchanter’s plan of entering the place masking as a rogue templar and an Apostate mage willing to strike a lucrative deal with the slavers before even being born. Sigh…
Ten black, angular, medium-armored Tevinter soldiers promptly drawing their weapons towards the sudden intruders, standing in between them and four enrobed figures. Three of them very obviously prepotent serpent-worshipping magistri (because that’s how all Tevinter mages are known as, isn’t that right?) and the fourth wearing Gallows cloth and an anguished, terrified expression: Enchanter Agnes. That made thirteen confirmed hostiles with a potential fourteenth against one Templar and one Circle mage.
The ‘Vints didn’t stand a chance.
As soon as one of the magisters rose his staff glowing with the familiar golden of Creation, Meredith extended an arm, her armor momentarily covered by blueish lyrium patterns as she reached upon that hollow she carved inside her to allow only the Maker’s grace in and projected His Holy Mandate outwards, a wave of light and unseen force washing over their dark intent and rendering the magic-wielding foes (momentarily) powerless.
The soldiers rushed forwards to take advantage of the momentary opening in the Templar’s defenses when Orsino conjured a splash of elemental water against their inadvisably tight formation, followed by a heavy hit on the floor with his staff, sending a Primal electrical shockwave through the highly conductive wet skins and armors of his foes, who filled the warehouse with agonizing screams.
Taking the cue, Meredith advanced towards her charge with the determination of an arrow shot from its bow, delivering preemptive yet brutal disabling greatsword slashes to the already weakened warriors in her path, knowing she won’t have long until the mages recover their power. Along the way a warm sensation spread across her skin, a protective shield ringing faintly in the background of her fiery purpose made manifest.
But a few steps away from the mages, a crimson glow shone from one of the targets (a tall woman, the most heavily adorned in jewels of the group) as blood-thick strings connected her with the other three mages and even the bodies (in some cases corpses) of her bodyguards. Meredith knew blood magic didn’t need any connection to the Fade, thus bypassing the Smite and maybe resisting another one if she gathered enough strength to manifest it-
All her planning got cut short by a disabling spike of pure, unsourced pain spreading all over her body, boiling at her core, churning at her organs, scratching at her skin… She could scream, but felt blood gathering at her throat, threatening to choke her… Just standing on her feet took inhuman amounts of willpower, probably not available to Orsino, who just fell on his knees clutching at his chest.
But she is Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard of the Gallows, Magi Circle of Kirkwall! She will NOT fall to a Tevinter maleficar while undercover in the only company of her First Enchanter, outside the walls of the fortress under her charge, alone in a dirty Docks warehouse while on a secret venure, a failure… NO!
With unspeakable pain, Meredith took a step forward. Feeling the whole weight of the world crushing her shoulders, Meredith took a second step forward. Taking a desperate strain on her muscles such as to risk her bones to snap, Meredith took a third step forward. Seeing, smelling and tasting nothing more than red once the capillaries in her eyes, nose and mouth bursted, Meredith took a fourth step forward. Attempting to rise a greatsword that could very well be a mountain with her almost-deadweight hands, Meredith prepared a weak but hopefully final swing to go with the fifth and hopefully final step…
And right before she could will that miracle to existence, the magistrix collapsed on her own, pale as Death’s own visage. The Knight-Commander did not know how long it took the blood boil to finally dissipate, or her body to recover from the trauma, or the healing potion to find its way to her lips, but in the end there she was: The only one standing among a plethora of exsanguinated corpses, which included-
—No! No, no, no… Maker, please, don’t let it end like this…
That was Orsino, crawling exhausted on his knees towards the pale, terrified body of Enchanter Agnes, who for some reason fell in a mutual, close embrace with one of the Tevinter mages –not the maleficar, although there is no way to know if he wasn’t one himself–. With an uneven breath, the First Enchanter managed to settle the head of his –theirs, shared– charge on his lap, cradling her hoping for the impossible to happen. Orsino was not a Spirit Healer, and even one of those would have difficulties to force open death’s gates when they have been shut with such force.
Meredith’s gloved hand settled with surprising softness on Orsino’s shoulder.
—We have to go.
—She can’t stay here-
—We can’t go carrying a corpse across Kirkwall at night, for Maker’s sake!
—She thought she was going to find a better life-
—If the Viscount’s troops find us here, that will be a much worse life for us. Go!
—She got pregnant of an Altus and thought that would mean something-
At that, Meredith’s mind crashed, halting her mental processes while she added, furious and mournful, one more victim to this mistake. But then she squeezed the First Enchanter’s shoulder, and spoke without any doubt, but a softer edge on her voice that proved enough to convince the collapsed Orsino.
—We have to go.
Only a nod was an answer. Sometimes that’s enough.
—
The Knight-Commander and I were gathered in the former’s chambers, after a much-needed bath (too much sweat, too much blood, too little tears) and change of clothes. Dawn was about to come, but as rulers of the Gallows this crisis, no matter how secret, had exposed too many gaps that needed to be filled as soon as possible. Such a thing needed several hours, patience and a calm mind to be done properly. Only one of those will have to suffice tonight.
—I’ll send a letter to the Viscount to meet regarding the scene left at the Docks first time in the morning. But from now on, there will be no more Formari trade allowed outside the Gallows, under any circumstance. A squad will be sent to the store to recover any remaining material and shut it down for good.
—Meredith, please! That was the only way many of our mages could even see the city proper-
—And you’ll be gathering ALL the mages, from Senior Enchanter to Apprentice, to give a mandatory seminar on the evils and lies of Tevinter methods, its Black Chantry, slavery and blood magic. Whoever doesn’t attend will receive an exemplary punishment.
—That’s a good preemptive measure, but Mer-
—Knight-Commander –she interrupted, swift as a viper bite–.
—Knight-Commander… –I sighed rubbing my temples, far too tired and hurt for this power play– Sometimes I wonder if you get to see- –I strangled my throat too late, not fully in control of my thoughts–
—See what, First Enchanter?
—If you get to see that often, the best way to keep our mages alive and safe is for them to WANT to remain alive and safe within these walls.
I should not have said that. I should have never dared pronounce those words outside of my head. But not even in a nightmare I could have imagined the effect those would have.
Meredith closed her mouth, stared deeply into nowhere, and then suddenly stood up and walked out the door at a firm, military pace, leaving me alone without any further word. These were her chambers. Her territory, abandoned to me because of a simple sentence.
A slap, a punch or even a dagger might have hurted less, or so I thought at the moment.
Only one last responsibility remained, regarding the grievous affair.
Even the echo of my knuckles against the door sounded hollow yet heavy at the same time. It was early in the morning, too early for people who for some unknown, Maker-forsaken reason enjoyed the silent darkness of sleep. Fortunately the Tranquil aren’t usually among them, dreamless and disciplined. Any word to dance around the dreadful “obedient”.
Anna received me as if I wasn’t bothering. Maybe I’m not, to her. She allowed me to sit on her bed, while she took the desk chair (then again, disciplined). Her pleased smile, a learned behavior to prevent the unsettling blankness of expression that was natural for the Tranquil, disquieted me even more. There was no reason to delay the matter further.
—Anna, your… Your sister, Agnes. Something bad has happened to her…
—I know.
She then gave a confirming nod, as if aware of my confusion. Perhaps I don’t have as much control over my expression as I wanted to believe.
—How do you know?
—She confided she was planning something. Something bad, forbidden. Bad things happen to those with such ideas, it is written in the walls all over the Gallows. I told this to Agnes, and it made her very sad, but wanted to go on nonetheless, it seems.
I felt like I was drowning like a fish out of the water. Trying to take air being well aware it was not what I needed but it being the only thing available. Fleeing, like a coward, I stood up and prepared to leave.
—I… I am sorry it ended this way, Anna. Please count on my if you… If you ever need something.
—I will do. Thank you, first enchanter.
Her unwavering smile and dry eyes will haunt the darkest moments of my nights for years, if it ever ends, this I knew. But if only my tears will water Agnes’ tomb –if she even gets one– then so be it. And if no one, not Meredith nor even Anna, will blame or punish me for her loss, then I’ll wield the flail. But I won’t let this blame off my shoulders.
I promised myself I won’t let anything like this happen again. At this point I was already used to such blatant lies at my own face. Some day, perhaps, I will be punished for that as well.