Blessed are the Peacekeepers
Chapter One: Chance Meeting
When I woke up to the sound horse hooves, I was instantly alarmed. I had woken up to similar sounds plenty of times, but not in these parts. Ferelden was a strange place in many ways. While most nations of Thedas boasted proud cavalry traditions, Ferelden seemed to have, almost, a distaste for the equine arts. Oh, they made up for it. Their heavy infantry was brutal in battle, able to soak up a great deal of punishment and deliver a blow as hard as any charge by the Chevaliers, if slower.
A combination of battle-won instinct and pure exhaustion when I had set camp last night, saw me sleeping in my armor, with my helmet laying off to the side. I had also learned to sleep with a weapon handy, in case of surprise nighttime raids. 'When in the field, you learn to be quick and prepared, or you die' his old instructor had often said. I took a moment to identify the sound, and get to my feet without shaking too bad, sword in hand. Withdrawal was a bitch.
I could tell that there were more than one rider, by both the sound the horses made, and the approaching voices deep in conversation. I knew there might be no danger, but you do not travel as far and wide as I have, without developing a healthy sense of paranoia. I donned my helm and looked around for my shield, noting that I had propped it up against a tree trunk, my cloak wrapped around it to keep the runes from shimmering in the dark.
I was torn between leaving my gear and hiding, or trying to pack it up, when the choice was taken from me. Four riders atop strong destriers came around a bend in the forested road, and immediately spotted me. Well, shit. I could see it was a strange collection of a party. A heavily armored man with a massive black beard, a dwarf with a strange crossbow slung over his shoulder and displaying a truly inspiring amount of chest hair, and an elf with a seemingly permanent smirk on her lips. It was not the majestic chest-hair of the dwarf, or the warrior's prowess that got my attention, but the one leading them.
She was a lithe young woman, with wavy red hair flowing past her shoulders. She rode her steed with a comfort and confidence that bespoke nobility. She was fair of face from the distance, and had emerald eyes that was utterly captivating. However, her attractiveness and noble bearing was not why my eyes seemed glued to her. No. She was wearing robes, studded with metal plates and leather. I had seen the garb before, usually on aggressive practitioners of the arcane arts who were lobbing elemental forces in my general direction. After seeing a few of your comrades burned to a crisp or frozen solid, you develop a modicum of respect and skepticism of the mages, if not outright fear. If the Battlemage robes were not clue enough as to her profession, the staff strapped to a holster at the right hand-side of her mount left little doubt.
The company halted, startled by the sight of a fully armored Templar standing smack in the middle of their path. With naked steel bare for the world to see. Now, I am a good Templar. Not the best, but good. I had distinguished myself in training, served honorably guarding a couple of Circles, and spent years traversing Thedas, tracking, hunting and fighting. As I said, I am good, but I had no illusions about my chances against two archers, a cute but dangerous looking mage, and a steel clad brute who seemed to know how very well which end of the sword was the pointy one. The fact that they were mounted would also be an advantage in a fight.
Oh, I could give them a fight, to be sure, but I was far from my best. My shield was still propped against the trunk I had left it at last night, for one. Add to that the fact that I had ran out of lyrium three days ago, and I had a bad case of withdrawal. Some shaking, some fatigue, and a headache the size of an Archdemon. I was painfully reminded of a handful of wounds that had yet to heal. Add to that the small sporadically occurring episodes of delirium that hit me, and I had seen better days.
"Now, that's a surprise. What does a lone Templar do in these parts?" the dwarf chuckled.
"Want me to pierce 'im? He looks like he needs some piercing." The elf said, taking her bow in hand and reaching for an arrow.
"Hold on. Let's not just attack fellow travelers without cause. It's unseemly." The mage said. The elf bit back a retort, and she didn't notch the arrow, but her bow stayed firmly at the ready.
"The Templars do seem to have it out for you." The bearded fellow commented.
"You know I can hear you, right? You are, what? 40? 50 feet away, maybe?" I said, a little irritated.
"Oh! He speaks!" The dwarf smiled. The mage ignored her friends, looked me over and called out.
"Greetings, Ser Templar. Might we have your name?"
"Marco Sarniani, late Knight-Lieutenant of the Templar Order, at your service, Lady…?" I said while giving one of my best courtly bows and letting my statement turn to a question.
"Radine Trevelyan. What do you mean 'Late of the Templar Order'? Have you deserted?" The mage asked curiously, but at the sound of her name, I was suddenly taken far away, as a memory swam to the forefront of my mind.
Some years ago, when I had served in Ostwick after transferring from Antiva City, I had been sent to tack down an apprentice who had disappeared from the tower before curfew. It had been an easy task. While my partner ran off to fetch her phylanctery from storage, I had used the simple expediency of asking her dorm mates a few pointed questions, and just leaving the tower to comb the vast park complex. It had taken me half an hour to find her. I just followed the humming. I found a teenage girl with flame red hair, lost in her own world as she wandered through the park, stopping here and there to pick some of the various flowers that the Circle cultivated, both for their beauty and for use in potions.
I stood there for a few minutes, just watching, as she seemed to dance from flowerbed to flowerbed, humming a melody; I could have sworn I had heard before. I could see at once that the fears she had ran away to live as some sinister apostate was unfounded. It seemed more like a case of someone getting lost in their own head for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet of the magnificent park. I couldn't really blame the mages for that. Being stuffed in a dank old lighthouse tower had to be boring.
I approached her, halting just short of grabbing her by force. I was well within my rights to drag her back to the tower, kicking and screaming, but I much preferred to simply escort errant apprentices that had forgotten time and place. Force should always be your second option, my old drillmaster in Antiva had told me.
"A little late for a stroll amongst the Maker's beauty, isn't it?" I said in a friendly tone. I had expected her to stiffen in shock, maybe squeal a little. I am not proud of it, but I do have a sadistic mean streak. Instead, she caught me utterly by surprise. With a fierce snarl, she spun around, and before I even knew what was happening, she had put every ounce of strength her petite frame held, and swung her beautiful bouquet of freshly picked flowers with full force straight into my open-faced helmet. I had been about to introduce myself to her, and was rewarded by having my open mouth stuffed with various flora.
As I was sputtering, trying my best to clear my mouth and nostrils of a collection of flowery debris, a second swing of a much-reduced bouquet descended on me. I felt a sharp prick as a rose thorn tore a ragged, small line down my cheek.
"Andraste's twitching twat! Stop it!" I shouted. That brought her up short. Breathing heavily, she took a step back, saw my armor, etched and emblazed with the Flaming sword of Andraste. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized she had just attacked a Templar, albeit with a very unconventional weapon, for a mage. After all, an offence like that warranted some hard punishment. Again, she surprised me. She crossed her arms and looked at me sternly, her emerald green eyes boring into my very soul for the audacity of interrupting her frolicking.
"You really shouldn't say such things, you know."
"What? Stop it? That's a very common request when assailed." I said befuddled, as I spat out another mouthful of petals.
"No. I mean that you really should not mention Andraste's…. twat… Twitching or otherwise."
I couldn't stop myself. I started laughing. She seemed a bit peeved at that.
"I'm sorry. You're right. Bad habit." I said, chuckling. "Comes with having a brood of bristling idiots for brothers. My instructors did their best to beat the habit out of me, but I fear they would be disappointed in my failings."
"Why are you here?" She asked, hands placed on her hips and seeming irritated.
"No apologies? You did just assault a Templar." I grinned. She just shrugged.
"You didn't announce yourself. You could have been a brigand for all I knew. Besides, I am allowed to wander the gardens, am I not?"
"Not after curfew." I said "And not without escort."
"Oh." She said, her gaze falling to her feet as she seemed to deflate a bit. "Damn. This will earn me a week stacking tomes." She muttered. To this day, I have no idea why, but it made me chuckle a bit.
"Oh, the punishment for runaway apostates attacking Templars are a bit more severe than stacking tomes." Ok, yeah. I was being an asshole. As I've said, I have a mean streak. Her eyes widened in fear at my words, and I could see she swallowed hard.
"What will they do to me?" she whispered.
"Oh, nothing too extreme for a first time offence, I think. This IS your first offence, right?" I teased.
"No… I sometimes lose track of time in the gardens." She admitted as I lead her back towards the main gates. She looked properly worried and chastised when we arrived, the Knight Tempars at watch looking her over.
"The missing apprentice?" one of them said.
"Yeah. Found her in the park. Lost track of time." I answered. He nodded, then gave me a searching look.
"What happened to you? You're bleeding. She hit you?"
I could sense her tensing next to me, looking down, not daring to meet the on-duty Templars' gaze.
"Oh, this?" I said, wiping a line of blood from my cheek. A white rose petal smeared with blood stuck to my finger. "Nay. Lost my footing. Stumbled into a rosebush. Nasty little things, really. So small and pretty, but they have quite the sting."
A few days later, as I came off a shift patrolling the outer wall, I found a single white rose on my pillow in my barracks, with a short note saying Thank you. I had always wondered how the Blight she had managed to sneak into the Templar barracks. I had left Ostwick a few months later, after overseeing a few Harrowings that went badly. My Knight-Commander had been impressed by my evenhanded approach to the mages, as well as my unflinching approach to duty. I suppose chopping the head off a couple possessed mages was impressive to some. At any rate, I had left Ostwick with a company of trackers and a nickname that would stick with me through my travels. Ser Rose.
I snapped back to the present. I could tell that it had taken me a few moments longer than normal to respond, and I just started chuckling to myself. The years had transformed her from the slightly scrawny teenager I remembered to a grown young woman.
"He's daft, yeah? Just standing there like a statue and bursting out laughing. It aint normal." The elf commented.
"He does seem… Addled." The stoic warrior agreed.
I sheathed my blade, and let out a deep breath I didn't know I was holding. I removed my full-faced helmet and grinned at the mage.
"At least you didn't smack me full in the face with whatever shrubbery was handy this time, Lady Trevelyan."
Her eyes widen a bit in recognition, and she seemed taken aback. She led her mount slowly closer, her eyes studying me.
"Ser Rose?" She asked.
"Always hated that name. You have no idea how hard it is to portrait being a strong, indomitable knight, when your comrades call you Ser Rose." I said, shaking my head.
"You know this... Mad Templar?" the warrior asked, riding up in support of his leader.
"Yeah. He was at Ostwick for a while. Caught me out in the gardens after curfew once."
I chuckled. I knew that some of my humor was relief. I was certain I was not about to be stuck by lightning or splashed with arcane fire. Some of it may have been the delirium that was part of withdrawal for a lyrium addict. "She smacked me repeatedly in the face with flowers, before chewing me out over my choice of profanity." I said.
That brought a smile to her lips. I noted that the beauty I had ascribed to her from a distance did her no justice. She was truly beautiful.
"Well, you did use some very blasphemous descriptions."
"After you stuffed a rose garden down my throat."
"Hardly. Just a few roses. Some wildflowers. And an elfroot or two." She snorted. "But, why are you here? And why alone? I thought most of your order relocated to Therinfal Redoubt."
My smile fell. "Yeah. We did." I felt dizzy. There was a tremor in my right hand, and my headache made itself known with a vengeance. I must have blacked out for a moment, because the next thing I remembered, I was firmly planted on my ass on the ground. Radine leap off her horse and approached me, to the protests of her companions.
"Don't! He may still attack!" The bearded brute, concern in his voice. She ignored them.
"Ser Rose? Are you alright?" she asked, taking a knee beside me.
"I hate that name." I muttered blinking a few times as my vision reasserted itself. "Been better. It will pass." I said, my voice thankfully not sounding as weak as I felt in that moment. "You wouldn't happen to have some lyrium on you, would you?"
"Lyrium? I thought you Templars brought plenty of the stuff on your travels."
"Yeah. As to that. You asked, and I shall answer." I said, steeling myself. "As you may know, Lord Seeker Lucius took direct control over the Order, after the conclave. We received orders to march and muster at Therinfal Redoubt. That's when the trouble started." I took a deep breath and launched into the tale. About how we had gathered. About how some of our number had started acting strange, before… changing. About how a few of us, concerned at the way the ranking officers were behaving, discovered the murdered corpse of the Knight-Vigilant, assumed lost at the Conclave. I told them how we had discovered Lucius had replaced our lyrium supply with tainted red lyrium.
The story took a while in the telling, and while I did so, the others dismounted and gathered around in the dirt. They were shocked and appalled at all the right places. From time to time, one of them would interject to ask a question. A good audience, all things considered.
"- So when they came for us, we fought our way free and scattered. We make for Haven, to warn the Inquisition. I'm not sure how many of us are left. We just took whatever supplies we could and got the Blight away from that FUCKING madman. The pure lyrium was the first of our supplies to run out." I finished, gratefully accepting a wineskin from the dwarf. They were silent for a while, looking at each other.
"What?" I asked.
"Well. If you were looking for the Inquisition, you've found it." The dwarf said. "May I introduce Lady Radine Trevelyan, of House Trevelyan, Late of the Ostwick Circle of Magi, Inquisitor and leader of the Inquisition."
I started at her dumbfounded for a moment before I barked out a short laugh.
"Well, well. Someone has risen high in the world." I said. "So you're the famed Herald of Andrate. I never would have guessed."
"That's all?" She said skeptically. "No lecture? No 'Magic exists to serve man, not rule over him' bullshit?"
"That became moot the moment the Conclave were blown to high heaven and the fucking sky tore open to spew demons into the world, don't you think?" I chuckled mirthlessly. "I have lost much since Ostwick. Brothers, blood, friends and faith. I care not who stops this madness, as long as it is stopped. Be it Templar, mage, mabari of Queen of the freaking Fairies. And from where I'm standing,- pardon me. Sitting; the Order failed miserably on that front."
She just studied my face for a moment, before she seemed to make a decision.
"Well. Ser Marco Sarniani. I hereby offer you a place among the Inquisition. We'll need every blade we can get, and strong arms to swing them." She said, standing up and offering her hand. With a heartfelt grin, I took it and got shakily to my feet.
"In that case, Inquisitor. Consider me yours to swing."