Chapter Text
Let's pretend, for a moment, that you've never heard of my brother. Pretend you've never bloody read that book, that you don't have any idea who I am.
Is that too hard for you? Yeah, I suppose the same goes for every single acquaintance I've made in the last few years. Whatever.
My name is Carver Hawke, and this is my story.
I could start with my childhood, but I'm not going to. It's really none of your business. I could start with the Blight, the Battle of Ostagar, with my arrival at Kirkwall, but I won't. You know those stories. Everyone knows them.
Everyone knows how I joined the Templar Order in Kirkwall. They know the part I played in my brother's story. But this isn't about that. This is my story, and it begins in the wake of Kirkwall's fall. Three years after the Kirkwall Rebellion, to be exact.
--
"You wanted to see me, Knight Captain?"
It was bloody sweltering in the Knight Captain's office. It always was. A man in full Templar armor, with the surcoat and cloak and everything else, was a man in a personal oven, especially in the Free Marches heat. Cullen never seemed to notice it, despite being Fereldan, as I was. Maker, am . The shouts of drilling recruits in the courtyard rolled in through the open window, but the sticky air didn't seem to move.
The Knight Captain set aside a parchment and looked at me, then frowned, lifting a hand to rub forefinger and thumb into his eyes. "You look as if you want to argue. Maker, why do you always look as if you want to argue?" He peered at me again, planting an elbow on his desk.
I could feel sweat rolling down the sides of my face, felt like my body was literally melting away, and his comment irritated me, but I tried to appear deferential. Judging by his face, it wasn't that great of an attempt. "No, Ser," I told him, still at attention. I like Cullen well enough. He's a good man, probably the only officer in the Kirkwall Templars who didn't have shit for brains. That's the main reason I stuck around.
"Right, well, at ease, Carver. I have a... well a proposition of sorts."
As I assumed a more relaxed posture, I quirked a brow at him. "Ser?"
"You've been briefed on the situation in Val Royeaux, the breaking of the Nevarran Accord. The effects have been devastating, even here, our numbers are dwindling."
I nodded at him, in acknowledgement. He knew well enough that I knew. He'd been the one to brief us about it, after all.
"I've been offered a command position," Cullen continued, "away from Kirkwall, one that I have accepted. I thought to bring my best and most loyal men with me, if they saw fit to make the change. You should know that this organization is not of the Templar Order, yet not entirely dissimilar in creed. These forces are tied directly to the Chantry- to the Divine herself. As I said, I have already accepted. So now I ask you, Carver: will you join with me?"
The decision was not a terribly difficult one. The Templar Order, as we knew it, had thrown off Chantry ties and abandoned their sacred duties. Though, in truth, there were no longer Circles to protect. Kirkwall was stable now, slowly rebuilding, but my family and friends - what was left of them - were scattered to the winds. If the Divine had need of us, and if Knight Captain Cullen Rutherford was answering the call, that was good enough for me. "Yes, Ser," I answered him with all the conviction I had.
He smiled at me- an expression I did not often see on the Knight Captain's face, and nodded. "Gather your things, and say your farewells to Kirkwall, Carver Hawke. We're leaving for Ferelden in three days."