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Not for the first time, Cullen began to wonder if he made a mistake. Growing up he never doubted that becoming a Templar was the right path for him; that is, until he found himself standing in the center of the Ferelden Circle Tower. People joked that Templars were as much prisoners of the tower as the mages who resided there, but Cullen had never paid them much mind. Now that he was standing there, however, surrounded by gray stone walls with no signs of the outside world, he couldn’t help but think that maybe they were right.
“You must be Cullen.” A warm, firm voice snapped him out of his thoughts and brought his attention to the woman approaching from across the room. Like him, she was adorned in a shining suit of Templar armor.
“Yes, I am.” He said, his voice higher pitched than he intended. “I just arrived.”
The woman nodded as she came to a stop in front of him. At this distance he was able to get a better view of her; she had a lean, muscular body with a thin face, and although she was older than him gray had not yet touched her dark hair. Dark circles stained her tan skin under her eyelids, giving her a tired look.
“I’m Alaine, second to the Knight-Captain. I’ve come to get you settled.” She smiled, causing wrinkles to bunch up around her eyes.
“It’s an honour to serve with you, Ser Alaine.” Cullen replied, bowing slightly. She chuckled at that, and placed her hand on his shoulder as she turned to leave the room.
“I’ll show you around the tower, but first we must head to the third floor and find Irving.” She looked at him sideways as they walked past rooms filled with more books than Cullen had seen in his entire life. Filling the rooms were mages of all ages and races, but they all shied away from his gaze. That made him uncomfortable, he was here to protect the mages, not to hurt them. Why were they afraid of him?
Alaine must have seen him looking pensive, because she added, “All new recruits are introduced to the First Enchanter, it’s nothing to worry about.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about that,” Cullen said, slowing his pace slightly. Alaine matched it gracefully, her soft smile still firmly planted on her face. “I just-”
An explosion boomed out from behind them, the shockwave knocking them both to the floor. Nearby a bookshelf toppled to the ground, its contents sprawled across the corridor. Cullen’s ears were ringing, though he could make out faint shouts over the buzz.
Alaine was immediately on her feet, sprinting towards the direction of the explosion without so much as a word to Cullen. Within seconds he was right on her tail, hands shaking nervously on his sword’s hilt.
It was immediately obvious which room the blast had originated from; the edges of the doorframe were singed black and debris littered the ground outside it. Loud voices could be heard inside, talking over each other in a flurry.
When they rounded the corner Cullen nearly ran straight into Alaine. She stopped just inside the room, regarding the scene in front of her with narrowed eyes.
A young human woman stood in the middle of the room, scorch marks radiating out from around her. She looked practically untouched, her robes spotless and her long elegant hair showing no signs of turmoil. But most striking was her smile; it stretched from ear to ear and lit up the room. Despite everything, Cullen felt his heartbeat quicken.
Standing nearby was a short, gray-haired mage looking similarly untouched. He stared at the Templars with unmasked distaste, obviously annoyed at the intrusion.
“What is going on here?” Alaine asked, her voice carrying much more authority than it had before.
“Magic, of course.” The older mage responded, flashing a smile of crooked teeth. His apprentice giggled, her eyes shining.
Alaine let out a hiss-like sigh. “Don’t try my patience, old man. What caused the explosion?”
His gray, bushy eyebrows furrowed in response, “Why, she did.” He nodded his head towards his apprentice, who bit her still-smiling lips. Cullen had to fight back a smile of his own.
“An apprentice caused this?” Alaine locked her gaze on the girl, who didn’t seem phased by the line of questioning.
“That’s what I said,” The old man clucked. “The dear barely knows her own strength. She’ll make quite the Enchanter one day.”
His apprentice began to turn red and fixed her eyes shyly on the floor. Cullen couldn’t help himself; he was full on grinning at her. He was glad Alaine was paying him no mind.
Alaine’s lips pressed together in a hard line. It was obvious her patience was wearing thin. She stepped forward several paces, her metal boots loud on the stone floor.
“And what might the dear’s name be?” She sneered, loathing dripping from her voice.
The old man opened his mouth but paused, his nose wrinkling in a look of discomfort. Beside him his apprentice began to pale, her breath caught in her throat.
“Well?” Alaine snapped.
The girl looked anxiously at her teacher, who looked very much like he’d rather be anywhere else. Out of the corner of his eye Cullen saw Alaine’s hand move to the hilt of her sword, and panic began to rise inside of him.
“Amell.” The girl said abruptly, much to everyone’s surprise. Her voice was calm, though her hands were clenched into shaking fists and her lower lip trembled with anxiety.
Alaine’s gaze snapped to her, her chest rising and falling in deep breaths. After several painstaking moments she let her hand slide off her sword, and Cullen let himself breathe again.
“Make sure she learns her own strength, and fast.” Alaine said sternly. “If you can’t keep her under control, we will.”
The old man looked like he wanted to say something, but merely nodded in response.
“Come on Cullen, we still have a meeting to get to.” She barked before marching out of the room, past a group of students and enchanters who had lined up to get a peek at the excitement. Cullen scrambled after her, but paused in the doorway to look back.
Amell was staring at him, her mouth pulled into the beginnings of a smile. After a moment she raised her hand in a small wave, and without thinking about it Cullen swung his hand awkwardly in return. Amell giggled, and Cullen felt colour rush to his cheeks. As quickly as he could he stumbled through the crowd and rushed to catch up to Alaine, who cast him a sidelong look but said nothing.
“Amell.” He whispered to himself, committing the name to memory.
All through his meeting with the first enchanter the only thing he could think about was the apprentice and that radiant smile of hers. Maybe being a Templar of the Tower wouldn’t be so bad after all.