9:40 Dragon – The Annulment of the Circle of Lydes
"-Once more, unto the breach!" The Knight-Commander cheered his troops on, and once again they broke through the barriers and charged up the staircase. They stumbled over the bodies and slipped in the blood of their fallen comrades. From their positions above the mages rained down ice and fire, shadows and light, the horrors of this world and the next. How many times in the last days had this scene not been repeated in the Circle of Lydes? But this was for the last time.
The Templars were relentless, horrible and magnificent. Armed in full plate, charred and bruised with a week of heavy fighting, they marched forward. Helmets and visors covered their faces. When one fell another took his place. At their head strode their Knight-Commander, indistinguishable from the rest except by a small emblem.
The Mages fought with the bitter desperation of men and women who know there is no hope but are determined not to go quietly. Many were mere children, others aged and wearied, their faces worn by more than a week's siege with precious little food or water. At the top of the stairs stood their First-Enchantress, at least fifty but never as beautiful nor as terrible as now.
And then it was over. The iron wave of the Templars pressed onwards and this time the mages could not stand against them. Their ranks, stratagems and spells broke – they were individuals once again and as such they were cut down. Small groups or powerful magicians held out in nooks and corners, but not for long. The children and wounded were not spared, and neither did they expect to be. Many chose to jump from the balconies.
.
.
The sun rose slowly over the Circle of Lydes on the ninth day of the Annulment. Its rose-fingers carefully investigated the top of the main tower. The battle was over and the once elegant Tevinter stones and pillars were cracked with fire put out by blood. Corpses clad in steel or cloth lay in piles. The Templars stood with unsheathed blades, dazed by the glory and horror of their triumph. They looked to their Knight-Commander for leadership.
Said Commander was kneeling at the top of the staircase, holding the body of the First-Enchantress to his chest. His helmet and blood-soaked sword lay beside him. His face was badly burnt, but he was clearly an older man, at least fifty. He spoke:
"-I am so sorry."
"-Don't be."
"-I don't have much choice in the matter."
"-Of course not. What about Elvire? And your beard?
"-She is dead. She was cut off in the west dormitory three days ago with Helon and the others. She… burnt my beard… She could… should… have killed me… but she hesitated." The Knight-Commander sobbed and the First-Enchanter sighed.
"-Did you do the deed?"
"-No, thank the Maker, I was spared that. She was so brave."
"-And how about our son? Any news from Montsimmard?"
"-I don't know. The latest news are no longer new. There is trouble there too, like everywhere. But it was always a peaceful Circle…"
"-Ours was always a peaceful Circle. And either way Keay is not one to sit quietly. He is as silly as you were."
"-He is indeed." The Knight-Commander spoke with both sorrow and pride.
"-This ought never to have happened."
"-I know. We did a good job here. If it were not for…"
"-Stop complaining."
"-If it were not for the rest of the world... I am getting very tired of the rest of the world."
"-So am I."
The Knight-Commander lifted the First-Enchantress into his arms and walked towards the balcony and the rising sun.
"-Does it hurt much? I am sorry for stabbing you."
"-It is not too bad."
Here the sun blinded the Templars and they could no longer see the two. All they heard were two voices:
"-You were right, you know.
"-Of course I were. What about, more specifically?"
"-I should have shaved off my beard long ago. Never mind that looking venerable thing."
That was the last they knew of the Templar and the Mage.