Chapter Text
It is an unmakerly hour in the evening. Well past that, too. I don't even need a clock to know this, for my frankly exhaust mind considers pointing out this fact to the rest of me a more important use of its waning forces than focusing on the matter at hand. But I am not grasping the vigil because of any important work that needs to be finished, not really. I am just waiting for the screams to cease so I can at least close my eyes and find some solace in my sleep. Everyone else in the Circle was long asleep or on planned guard duty by now, which meant the screams were echoing inside my mind rather than across the walls, but that made them no less unceasing. All over my waking hours I heard anxiety and panic attacks among the mages -no matter how novel or veteran-, physical and psychological punishments being delivered -to this every denizen of the Circle was eligible-, cries for help for a companion's or one's own sake, begs for mercy before an execution, or the terrible surprise of discovering one's roommate had chosen to spare the world of their presence -Lethin was the name of despair's most recent victim-. And yet, everyone else -among those remaning, that is- was asleep. Maybe bearing their own miseries was exhausting enough to not give the others a second thought, or maybe it was a choice of survival to prevent being crashed under the weight.
But I am First Enchanter, and if nothing else it is my duty to carry the burdens of the hundreds of mages under my charge. I still have to remind me it was a free voluntary choice. A friend I love and miss in the same measure would argue there's no such thing as free choices for us mages.
The matter at hand, by the way, involved composing several letters -just drafts, actually- calling for political and material support to the powers at play outside our home. Aristocrats, magnates, military, clerics, good-willed people, whoever could help us have enough quality food to not again face starving measures and deficiencies, medicines to keep plagues and malaise at bay, clothes and adornments to better cling to dignity, and some sliver of leverage to protect us from the abuse of our templar keepers. Castles in the air, at the time being, for I have run out of contacts willing to listen, but the simple act of trying, keeping my hands busy groping for hope, helped me keep dread and despair at bay.
Usually did, though. Tonight I didn't even need to drink for Maud to come to mind. Perhaps I should just brave the nightmares and blow the candles, lay down and hope for either dream or dawn to swiftly come. But as soon as I was reaching for my candlestick I could hear that noise again -metal against metal, the sound of someone clad in heavy armor attempting to be subtle despite the aforementioned fact, then growing bolder and unashamed towards the end-, confirming the close presence of my constant companion in duty: Meredith, the Knight-Commander, who staunchly refuses to sleep until every last mage has closed their eyes. But I haven't, as she can so easily -and so frequently- attest from her chambers a single corridor away from mine, so she will neither. I was surprised at a sudden feeling of peace washing over me at this idle thought and, seizing the chance, stepped towards my bed and allowed the blankets to welcome me one more night. But before I snuffed the last light in my room I waited one final moment, savouring both this fleeting moment in which there was only the two of us alone in the silent dark and the petty power it gave over her, just this once.
---
Next morning found the First Enchanter more optimistic and with darker circles around his green elven eyes. His duties starting right at the breakfast with the Knight-Commander to hear the daily report of incidents and threats -it's been a couple of relatively calm days, thank the Maker-, being once again told that he's looking tired and that perhaps he should consider stepping down and finding a replacement -not happening-, replying with a restful smile that she is looking no better and that perhaps she should lower the guard and sleep more, both finally agreeing to not heed any advice from the other on the matter, and then off to other more constructive duties. Some classes to impart, shift through the mail inbox for new internment requests, check the calendars for scheduled Harrowings and discuss the adequacy of them, and generally roam around the Gallows to make certain all goes as well as can be expected... Oh! There was one intriguing new arrival he wanted to meet but didn't have the chance until today, an intriguing youth born in far Rivain and registered at age 25, both traits most uncommon in a Circle mage. She should be in her room now...
—Greetings, Carmina. Thank you for your time.
—Heh, it's not like I have plans you know?
—I guess not on the outside at least, but I'm certain you'll find some company soon enough.
—If it's going to be like the one last night I'd rather pass, ugh.
—What?
—Pay me no mind. You didn't come here to talk about that, did you?
—Carmina... I am First Enchanter. This means I have to be both the first to be informed of everything and the first to act upon it, you know this? I know many things go poorly here, but if you know of something specific I can act upon, you should let me know. Do you understand?
The young mage sighed, looking downwards to avoid any expectations at eyesight in the process of thinking. It didn't help that Orsino's hands were right there, as if to gently hold her glance. Just when did he lean so close? It was unfair! She was here trapped and will never get out nor have a normal life but if whatever armored fucker decided she looked at them wrong she could just be killed! And here it was this teacher-looking, err... Teacher, she guesses, with her warm understanding voice and tender concerned eyes and open helping hands acting like this had any kind of good side? Ugh...
—Okay -the silence breaks- It... It was my roommate. Izian, it's his name. A templar entered at night in the room, probably didn't notice it no longer had only one guest -she chuckled mirthlessly at the word, as if this was some inn- and I did my best to remain silent and still. And then he-
Her voice cracked, and while trying to gather the sharp-edged pieces and continue, Orsino placed a hand on hers, softly, and squeezed in reassurance.
—It is enough. All is well, Carmina. You don’t have to-
—He is fourteen years old, First Enchanter -she gathered enough strength to deliver the message, words flowing in tight knots-. When I met him I saw those dark, half-dead eyes… And now I understand. It was- It didn’t look like the first time, not by far. Also, i-in the meantime he, the templar, mentioned another one. Said he’ll miss her. The name was-
—Lethin.
The First Enchanter, worthy of his charge, had no doubt and thus waited for no confirmation, as it was already obvious on the young mage’s face. The rage built up inside him, and no matter how much he’d wanted to channel it into fire and let it find the offender, he couldn’t allow it. No mage can attack no templar without risking an Annulment, less so him. But he could be cunning, and turn this tragedy into something productive. Always something productive.
—Do you know the templar’s name?
Carmina shook her head, emphatically, tears collapsing down her cheeks from welling under her lids.
—I still don’t know them beyond the face.
“Them”. Heartfeltly pronounced as far removed from “Us” as possible. When it comes to mages and templars, there’s no other way. There were many who resented this distance, but few more than Orsino.
—I’ll go talk to Izian myself. And Carmina… Thank you. I promise this will be over soon.
—
There had been an alert. One of the Circle mages showed signs of demonic possession, which demanded immediate evaluation by a group of templars. Of course the Knight-Commander Meredith had to be involved, along with two other templars: A witness, in the form of Knight-Lieutenant Karan, and an evaluator, in the form of Knight-Templar Revin. The First Enchanter Orsino was present as well, of course, to ensure due process as far as his power allowed.
The suspect was one Izian, age fourteen but arrived at the Gallows at age four. Those were the worst, Meredith thought to herself, as all an early-awakened mage knows is magic and the Fade, giving it more control over their lives. Then again, she also thought late-awakened mages were the worst, as they usually miss the outside too much to stay put and safe within the Circles. It’d be easier to summarize it as every mage being just a misstep away from irredeemable possession, really. But this one didn’t look the part, sitting so calm and composed, patient even, no swelling flesh or chaotic energies in sight.
—What were the signs, Knight-Lieutenant?
When the Knight-Commander wanted answers there were no platitudes or formalities, and her voice said as much. An abomination in her Circle was not to be taken lightly.
—I received an anonymous note slipped under the Quarter’s door, warning about this mage’s room -there Orsino couldn’t help make the slightest grimace, witnessing the gall of the templar acting like he doesn’t even know his victim while handing his Knight-Commander said note-. When I arrived he was talking on his own, with two voices! And as I called him to attention, I could see an unnatural glow in his eyes fading right when he turned around. Possession, it has to be.
Possession it had to be, of course. Meredith was so tired of this. Templars are supposed to know better than to go around with suspicions alone. A demonic possession is obvious, the signs unmistakeable, not some retelling of an allegedly terrifying folk tale scene. But that’s why these evaluations existed, she reminded herself. If any other templar was as good as her at following their duties, there would be more than one Knight-Commander. She stopped that cart of thought before she could figure up if she’d dread or thank such a state of affairs.
—Knight-Templar, perform the test.
In an unbecoming gesture of collaboration -which made Meredith’s brow crease slightly-, the First Enchanter himself offered the lyrium needle case to Revin, who took it with a nod of acknowledgement before uncasing the bright, vibrating artifact.
—Reveal yourself, foul Fade-born enemy!
The zealous exhortation -not necessary but appreciated nonetheless- was followed by a prick with the needle in the back of the accused mage’s wrist, right on the pulse point, causing the expected immediate reaction. Veins of glowing Fade energy spread up Izian’s arm, his eyes light up in an unsettling pinkish-purple energy, and his voice changes to something far deeper, hungrier, vile.
—Revelations you demand, templar?! Revelations you shall receive!
Two templar hands instantly laid on two templar swords, ready to unsheathe and attack as soon as aggression was hinted at, despite the child’s body not even struggling against the chair’s restraints nor summoning magic. The Knight-Commander remained motionless, composed and observant. Not as much towards the possession, but towards the First Enchanter who didn’t flinch at it. Is he truly that wistful for death?
—I shall reveal how you came under the Chantry’s care when those who brought you to the world could no longer lay their eyes on you, after seeing what you did to your dog! I shall reveal how a fellow novice abandoned the temple at night and never returned, you being the last one to ever cross her cell’s door! I shall reveal how your hands were already dripping red blood when you first took your sword and swore the Oath! I shall reveal how you were cast out of your first Circle after the nooses were hung from the apprentice chamber’s high wooden beams! And I shall reveal the names of those in the Gallows that took their lives to keep them off your dirty, lusting hands! Raquelle! Hymus! Thaon! Lethin! And now… Izian is mine because he preferred my Desire over yours!
The gravity and feeling projected by the abomination’s voice was enough to stop any attempt of silencing him before even starting, but the face of the accused -how the tables turn- became redder and redder, with rage rather than shame. The words still lingered in the air when Knight-Lieutenant Karan bared his blade and charged towards the rapturously cackling abomination.
—Shut up, demon!
There was a flash of light followed by a void felt in the soul. A swish, and a slice. A terrified scream, a gush of blood. The clank of armored knees hitting the hard stone floor. Knight-Commander Meredith, Certainty both in her eyes and gripped with both hands, standing on the path between Karan and Izian, the former having lost a hand with a face twisted in pain and confusion, the latter unscathed but for the glow in his veins and eyes having dissipated as if they have never been there and exhibiting a shocked yet deeply satisfied expression.
—Only a Knight-Templar is allowed to touch a Circle Mage -the Knight-Commander declares, firm and stern, getting in position, greatsword drawn-.
—Knight-Commander! -the offender pledges, as if he had any right to do so- I just- Carried my duty…
—A templar’s duty is to keep the Circle from threats within and without. And in this moment, mine is the duty, and yours is the threat.
No more words are mentioned, only the whistle of air against a scrupulously sharp blade, then the terrible sound always followed by perfect silence when the executioner’s duty is fulfilled. Certainty, once delivered, is returned to her sheath. Karan will have to be taken out the room in three pieces.
—Congratulations on your promotion, Knight-Lieutenant Revin. See the mage safely returned to his chambers.
—B-but the abomination, Knight-Commander? -not to talk about the summary execution of a fellow templar on the accusations of a demon-tongued child-
—The only abomination in the stance has already been dealt with, Knight-Lieutenant.
The inflexible command was swiftly albeit shakily obeyed, no traces of uncanny eyes or unsettling voice remaining on the child’s visage.
—And you, Orsino -no First Enchanter, he hasn’t earned the privilege today-, are expected in my chambers. Now.
No time was given to react, as the templar had already turned around and started the unrelenting march. Orsino was allowed just a few moments of processing the recent events before obeying to the atavistic, instinctive pull of the command, allowing his feet to lead him to Meredith’s chambers. Never running, but neither halting.
—
As soon as I arrived at my chambers I placed Certainty aside for a rigorous cleansing, and a poker in the fireplace; when Orsino finally arrived, all pieces were finally in place.
—Meredith, seeing as you have requested me, I’d like to propose some changes to the night watches to prevent-
—Am I inaccessible, Orsino?
—I beg you pardon?
—Has my door ever been closed to you?
Ah, the perplexed look in his eyes. He didn’t even think on asking me. The duplicitous bastard…
—No, Mer-
—Knight-Commander.
The lightning-fast and boulder-hard correction was enough to make the First Enchanter stagger, then adopting a more military-appropriate stance. An interiorized instinct, or a subtle mockery?
—No, Knight-Commander.
—Good. And, in your opinion, should a Knight-Commander from the Templar Order in charge of a Circle of Magi be able to tell a demonic possession from an illusionist’s amulet changing one’s eyes and voice? Or that certain mages under her charge have contacts outside capable of unearthing a certain templar's record?
Now a gulp made Maferath’s Apple bob within Orsino’s lying throat. Was he truly so foolish? Or even worse, confident on my own inadequacy?
—Despite his youth, Izian has been in the Circle for a long time. It is likely he learned some of the Dread-inducing spells taught by our Entropy teachers-
A raised gauntlet stopped him mid-sentence, thankfully. Outrage never fails to give me mockery-sensitive headaches.
—You have a choice now, Orsino.
With a swift motion, mentally trained so many times in the last couple of minutes, my hand found the poker in the fireplace and brandished it at a hazardous enough distance of the so-called First Enchanter’s cheek. He could feel the heat, a fact made obvious by the way his lips parted, as if to gasp in surprise, or perhaps beg? But never to ask for help. At least at that he still knows his place well.
—You can blame the kid for the ruse. It’d be plausible, and I could never prove you had nothing to do at all. But of course that means all the punishment due for lying to his templar keepers about something as serious as a possession in a way that ended with a casualty will fall over his shoulders and his alone. Or you can admit it was your plan, carry the burden of your crime, and let the kid live his victory unscathed… Mostly.
The moments in which Orsino understands he must do something are truly beautiful to behold, nevermind how improper such thought is for a Knight-Commander. That decision, that drive, he would have been a perfect cleric, had the Maker not punished him so early in life. Without a single word, I witness how he loosens his robes, exposing his upper right arm, slightly leaning towards the still red-hot poker. Hmm, I admit I almost hoped he offered the cheek, it would have made a perfect brand of shame… But his public duty needs a flawless appearance, and a new visible scar would arise too many questions. Besides, this sight of him allowed sight of other similar marks close to his chest… This First Enchanter sure is a rebellious one, but never shied away from due punishment, there’s honor in that. And yet he does not learn contrition on its own isn’t enough to prevent sin from happening again. One day I’ll have to dispose of him. Not today, though.
The next motion was followed by sizzling, but no scream, not even a whimper. The elven mage barely even flinched at physical pain by now. Then again, he’d make a magnificent cleric. The resulting wound will take some time to heal, a long-lasting memento of what to do and who to reach for in the matter of her templars stepping out of line.
—Regarding those night watch proposals -credit goes where credit is due, those changes have been proven necessary, and discussing it while Orsino nurses his wounds and dresses properly again is as good a moment as any other-, I’ll be up to allow them, in the hopes no more aberrations like this one happen again. But to do so I’d need you to sign an allowance to bring in more templars, otherwise I won’t have enough Knights to ensure no watcher is left unwatched.
—You’ll have it -he answered, jaw clenched, always so capable to discern when a victory of his ultimately became a bigger victory of mine-.
—We’ll meet again soon enough, then. Oh! And on your way out, make certain to call young Izian to my chambers. He made me stain my greatsword, and so he is the one responsible for cleansing it. If he does as good as I would, no further discipline will need to be imparted. Make certain he understands that.
—Yes, Meredith.
Of course, he could never depart without a final act of rebellion. Not entirely unwelcome, though. Were not for him, I fear I would forget my own name.
—
Back in the First Enchanter’s chambers, a soft knock could be heard. Allowed entrance, Carmina gently pushed the door and stepped inside, to Orsino’s delight.
—Carmina, it is good to see you again -he stood up, favoring his left arm when pushing himself away to the table-. Is there something I can do for you?
—In fact, First Enchanter… I believe it can be the other way round, this time. I- I’ve been made aware of what happened and… Izian looks so hopeful now. It is true you try to help us, here. So I thought… Maybe I could help you as well.
The young mage pulled a sealed envelope from inside the sleeve of her tunic.
—My father is a wealthy businessman, back in Rivain. Recently he wanted to make inroads with the Andrastian government, and in exchange he offered to have me locked here, appeasing both his Rivaini and Kirkwall contacts. “His little dear investment”, he called me before the templars came and dragged me out of home. I was adamant at not ever talking to him again, but… I know his guilt could move him to favor the Circle, you know? So I… Wrote him this, and said a letter from the First Enchanter would be sent alongside. Whatever you say, he’ll read and act upon in exchange of my forgiveness, I’m certain. I… I hope this helps.
At this, the First Enchanter found himself at an utter loss of words. Bursting out laughing would be too improper, even if the moment deserved no less. Remaining stone-cold would be expected, but entirely undeserved to the youth’s magnanimous gesture. Thus the older mage allowed the weight on his chest to be emptied in a relieved sigh, and the joy replacing it showed through a sweet, warm smile.
—Thank you so much, Carmina. Truly I- This means more to me, to all of us, than I could express. Please, never hesitate to reach for me if you need anything, whatever it is.
Happy to make something productive of her unfair situation, the Rivaini mage matched her superior’s smile and nodded, fidgeting with her hands as if she has thought on a hug but deemed it too forward given the situation.
—No, thanks to you, truly. I’ll leave the letter here, so you can send is whenever it is ready. Hope to see you around, First Enchanter.
—Orsino, please.
—See you around, Orsino -she corrected herself with a shy, blushing smile, before reaching for the door and returning to her mage apprentice duties-.
Meanwhile, the First Enchanter hurriedly reached for the cabinet where he kept all his emotional support drafts, shifting through them until finding the most adequate template. With newfound enthusiasm and hope, he penned a duly edited copy, properly sealed and enveloped, to be delivered as soon as possible.
Perhaps, he thought not for the first time and hopefully not for the last, there could be a way out this sea of misery.