Chapter 1: "You must gather your party before venturing forth" (BG)

It was a morning much like any other in Gamlen Amell's Lowtown home. The smell of rotten cabbage permeated every square inch of the hovel, and even Leandra's cooking did nothing to diminish its intensity. Sabine sighed as she finished gearing up, absurdly thinking that the smell might be just bad enough to keep the Templars away. She tied her thick, auburn hair loosely back and then looked over at Carver, still in deep slumber. She couldn't help but envy the peaceful look on his face. Then again, her brother could sleep through a hurricane.

"Wake up, you," she said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Carver?" She got no more than a deep snore from him. "All right, you leave me no choice," she smiled, her green eyes full of mischief. She gestured at the air, and her brother levitated off the bed, higher and higher, until he almost hit the ceiling. The tin plate that had been licked clean of last night's meal followed, along with a spoon. Sabine kept them close to the young man's ear then clapped her hands together, and the spoon obediently commenced beating chaotically against the plate. Carver jerked up with a start, only to bang his head against a wooden beam with a thud, and then screamed like a girl as Sabine let him drop. She caught him a few inches from the floor and wore a satisfied smirk as Carver began the usual string of curses.

"Stop it, you two!" Leandra burst in, a wooden spoon in her hand held up threateningly. "Sabine! What are you, seven? Stop haranguing your brother!"

"You know he won't get up otherwise," came the protest.

"You'll pay for this, Sabine!" Carver warned, his face as red as a ripe tomato.

"Oh? And what will you do, big man of the house? Nail my pigtails to the bed?" Sabine replied mockingly.

"I'll show you!" Carver bellowed, rushing towards his sister, vainly grabbing at her.

"Enough!" their mother cried, a finality in her voice that brooked no opposition. Sabine shuffled her feet embarrassed, while Carver's eyes were throwing daggers. "Breakfast, and out with you!"

Once outside, Carver smacked Sabine lightly over the head, then got an ineffectual shove in return. He chuckled. "Might as well try to move a mountain, you pipsqueak."

"Hey, watch it!" Sabine warned. "I'm the eldest, remember?" How did the years pass so quickly? He now towered over her, that skinny boy that had once been all knees and elbows. He also wielded a two-hander as if it were a butter knife, something she was rather proud of, though she would have never confessed to it.

"A fact poorly reflected in your behaviour," he chafed.

"Oh, and you are so much better?"

Back and forth the bickering went, and before they knew it, they were in Hightown.

"There's the dwarf," Carver said pointing out a stout figure with plaited beard and a ponytail.

It had been the same story every day for the past week: trying to convince Bartrand Tethras to take them onto his Deep Roads expedition. Maker, they needed the money desperately. Not having parted on the best of terms with Athenril, and with no money for bribes, it was only a matter of time before the Templars came knocking on their door.

"We have experience fighting Darkspawn, dwarf," Carver was trying to make a case for them, though Bartrand remained unimpressed.

"I do not care if you tore the horns off an ogre with your bare hands," the dwarf retorted. "I know your kind, just looking for a quick way out of the slums. The air must be a bit thin high up there around your head. The answer is 'no', as it was all this week."

"What my brother meant," Sabine put in carefully, "is that the risks of such a venture would be significantly reduced with the appropriate swords to guard you, your men and your spoils."

"I have made all the necessary arrangements," Bartrand replied dismissively. "I do not need dog lord swords."

"That went well," Sabine said sourly as they picked their way across Hightown.

"There must be something we can do to convince him to take us on," Carver fumed. "You are certainly doing a fine job showcasing our skills."

"Carver, I've been hounding him for a week now," Sabine replied annoyed. "What is it that you expect me to do?"

"You're the eldest," he shot back. "You mean to tell me you don't have everything worked out?"

Sabine was cut short mid-sentence, as a scrawny youngster whizzed past her and relieved her of her diminutive purse.

"Hey! Come back here!" she cried in vain. Both her and Carver chased after him, but had little hope of catching up with the nimble thief. To their surprise, however, as they turned around the corner, they saw the culprit pinned to the wall of a building, confronted by a dwarf with an enormous crossbow slung across his back.

"You don't have the flair to work Hightown," the dwarf mocked and followed up with a well-placed upper cut. "I suggest you find yourself another line of work." He retrieved the bolt from the thief's cloak, and let the fellow run as fast as his feet could carry him.

"Varric Tethras, at your service," the dwarf introduced himself and threw the pouch back to Sabine. "I must apologize for my brother. Bartrand wouldn't know an opportunity if it hit him squarely in the face."

"But you would?" Sabine asked cocking a brow.

"Indeed," Varric replied, and then proceeded with his business offer. Apparently, Bartrand's expedition was not resting on solid ground just yet. In fact, the undertaking was a significant number of gold coins away from becoming reality. "My brother could not refuse an investment into his venture," Varric continued. "Fifty sovereigns weigh heavily enough in a purse to justify you joining in as a partner, with equal shares."

"Fifty sovereigns?" Carver was revolted. "If we had that coin, we wouldn't be bloody looking to get killed in the Deep Roads."

"My brother makes a point, Varric," Sabine interjected. "With that kind of gold, I would not go spelunking in some forgotten thaig and risk ending up as decoration on an ogre's horns."

"You need to think bigger, Hawke," the dwarf said expansively. "Countless thaigs have been abandoned to the Darkspawn, along with all their treasure. The Blight conveniently brought the Horde out, and its defeat means those thaigs will remain empty for some time. What we will find there will return your investment at least ten-fold, if not more."

"It could mean the end of all our troubles," Carver said quietly.

"So, how am I to put together such an amount?" Sabine asked frowning.

"The name Hawke is on many lips these days," Varric replied smoothly. "Surely, there is no shortage of jobs here in Kirkwall for someone of your reputation. I would be happy to assist you, as would Bianca," the dwarf patted his exotic crossbow affectionately. "Set aside some coin with every venture, and before you know it, we will be ready for the Deep Roads."

"Very well, Varric Tethras," Sabine held out her hand, "you have a deal."

"In that case, maybe we should start with Aveline," Carver suggested. "Perhaps there are some jobs we could do for the City Guard."

"That is a good start," Sabine agreed. "To the Viscount's Keep, then."

Sabine was glad to see her friend again. She wholeheartedly congratulated Aveline on her recent promotion among the ranks of the City Guard. She was also amused to find that her friend was rather bored with the job.

"Say, perhaps there is something you could help out with, Hawke," Aveline said, her eyes twinkling. Some information had reached her about a potential caravan raid, and since the Captain was not ready to act simply on a rumour, Aveline intended to take matters into her own hands. "I hate sitting around here all day long, when I could do something good out there." The site was on the way to Sundermount. "According to my information, a caravan will be passing in the area two days hence, coming down the path, so we must leave tomorrow morning to get there on time."

"You can always count on me, Aveline," Sabine replied smiling.

The siblings and the dwarf left the Keep, and all agreed it was high time for lunch. The Hanged Man was suggested as a solid choice for a cheap meal served with everyone's favourite watered-down ale.

"Before we leave Kirkwall, there is something I'd suggest we look into," Varric said as he plopped himself into a chair. He was a permanent resident of the inn, and occupied lavishly furnished rooms that stood in stark contrast to the rest of the establishment. "While Bartrand can lead us to the proper sites once we are down in the Deep Roads, we currently have no good entry points."

"Wouldn't any entrance do? Unless there was a dragon sitting in it, I suppose," Sabine suggested smirking.

Varric chuckled, "That would be rather upsetting. We did have a few access points lined up, but they all turned out to be a bust. Now, rumours have been circulating about a Fereldan Grey Warden here in Kirkwall."

"It is not wise to interfere with Grey Wardens, Varric," Sabine cautioned.

"I am hoping he might be of the sympathetic kind," the dwarf countered. "If anyone knows how to get into the Deep Roads, it would be him."

"Well, I certainly have no better ideas," Sabine pursed her lips. "We'll do it your way, Varric."

The Fereldan refugees Varric had suggested to approach on the matter were reluctant to give up any information on the Grey Warden, but Sabine managed to set them at ease. His name was Anders, and apparently he broke away from his order. Currently he was aiding those most wretched in the city, lending his healing abilities for free. He was running a clinic amidst the misery and despair of Darktown, where the poorest of the poor resided.

"Great," Carver put in sourly as they left Lowtown. "Yet another delicate mage-flower."

"Oh, shush, you," Sabine admonished, rolling her eyes.

Darktown was not the most idyllic quarter in Kirkwall. Sabine navigated the muddy alleyways as quickly as she could, trying hard to avoid dwelling upon the desperate situation of the residents. Many of them were refugees, just like her, who had fled the horrors of the Blight in Ferelden never knowing that what awaited them in Kirkwall was not much better. Among them were good men, farmers and merchants who had earned an honest living in their homeland. Now they were all but broken, forced into beggary and crime.

The atmosphere was even more sombre in the clinic, where the ill and the infirm lay surrounded by their grieving families. Everyone's eyes were on the healer, however, who was presently struggling to drag a boy away from death's door. The latter was all covered in blood, as was his mother who was softly weeping at his side. The healer's hands drowned in blue light, and suddenly, with a deep inhale, the boy woke, and smiled weakly. His mother took him in her arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

It was only then that the healer noticed the small band of well-armed mercenaries watching his moves. "I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation!" He thundered at the trespassers. "Why do you threaten it?"

"Please, there is no need for that," Sabine replied calmly, turning her palms up in a gesture of peace. "We were told you were a Grey Warden - "

"If you are here to take me back, I am not going," the healer interrupted. "Those bastards made me give up my cat. Poor Ser Pounce-a-Lot."

"You had a cat named Ser Pounce-a-Lot?" Sabine asked, a blank look on her face.

"He was a gift. A noble beast," the Warden rambled on. "Got nearly ripped in half by a genlock once. Swatted the bugger on the nose. Drew blood too. I had to leave him with a friend in Amaranthine, though. They said he made me soft."

"Right, well," Sabine cleared her throat rather embarrassed. The man was a Grey Warden, part of an order of hardened warriors that could give even the bravest of knights reason to pause. He was also towering almost as much over her as her brother did. Cats were not what she would have expected as a first topic.

"I am part of a Deep Roads expedition, and was given to understand that you have maps of the area," Sabine finally went on. "I was hoping you'd be willing to sell them to me."

"No," was the disappointing answer.

"No?" Sabine echoed. "Surely, you must be in need of coin," she said gesturing at the ramshackle furniture. The equally pathetic patients had mysteriously disappeared in the meantime.

"I am, but I have no reason to trust you with such a document," the healer pointed out.

"Let's go," Carver muttered. "There's nothing for us here."

Sabine looked flustered, but nodded. "Sorry to have disturbed you then," she said curtly, and turned to leave. She was barely out the door, when the healer caught up with them.

"Wait. Rather than coin, perhaps you could render a service? A favour for a favour? Does that sound fair to you?" The healer spoke hopefully.

"What sort of favour are we talking about?" Sabine asked cocking a brow. "I'll have you know I don't do anything involving children or animals."

The healer looked taken aback, not sure whether to take it as a joke. "No, nothing of the sort," he muttered confused. "I have a friend in the Gallows. The Templars are ruthless here, and his last few letters sounded alarming. He was fearing for his life. I have to help him get away from Kirkwall."

"Freeing a mage?" Sabine asked doubtfully.

"Being a mage doesn't make a person less human," Anders bit off the words. "Or do you believe we should all be caged like animals?"

Sabine shook her head, sadness flitting over her delicate face. "Nothing of the sort. I just don't like the idea of crossing Templars. But if this is what it takes to get the maps, so be it."

"Thank you," the healer replied relieved. "Meet me at the Chantry four hours after sundown. With any luck, we will go unnoticed."

Sabine sighed displeased, but nodded agreement. "You never asked for my name," she said forcing a smile.

"I, ah - yes. Forgive my manners. I am Anders."

"You may call me Hawke," Sabine replied, holding out her hand, which Anders took uncertainly. "This is my brother, Carver, and my business associate, Varric Tethras."

Back at the Hanged Man, Carver began questioning her decision. "Sabine, this expedition is to get the Templars off our back, not to draw their unwanted attention. It is not worth it. There must be another way."

"I doubt it," Sabine replied dispirited.

"We could have just taken the maps from him."

"Carver, I do not wish to draw the ire of the Grey Wardens – "

"But Anders is a former Grey Warden."

"Even so, one Warden is worth ten knights, and a mage Warden... well, I am not sure if I could handle him. Besides, you know very well it is not how I do things."

"As you wish, Sister. But I have the feeling we are jumping out of the frying pan into the fire," Carver conceded irritated.

They stole their way to the Chantry at the appointed hour. Their faces veiled and black cloaks trailing, they looked like wraiths haunting the streets. Anders was already waiting for them. Sabine urged them to move quickly, unwilling to spend any more time than was necessary within Templar domain.

They found Anders' friend on the upper level, standing by a bookcase.

"Anders, I know you too well," the man said in an unexpected monotone.

"Karl, no!" Anders cried, rushing to his friend's side.

Sabine cursed under her breath when she realized that the mage had been made tranquil. "This is a trap," she hissed at Carver, and quickly traced a glyph on his shoulder to strengthen him.

"I knew you would not give up," Karl droned. "This is the apostate I have told you about," he said staring past Sabine. Templars closed in on them.

Can I go all out?

Direct attack is useless against them. The lyrium makes them resistant. But if the earth shakes beneath their feet, they will lose balance. Keep them as far away from you as possible, so they will not block you. And, remember, an arrow in the neck will accomplish what fire and lightning cannot.

Malcolm Hawke's voice rang distantly in Sabine's ears. Her eyes ablaze with the magic needed to push her body beyond its capacity, she set four throwing daggers in quick succession. In the span of two heart beats, four Templars dropped lifeless to the floor. She never managed to throw the new pair she had readied, however.

"You shall not harm another mage again!" Anders suddenly boomed in an unearthly voice. Blue light covered his body in rivulets and flooded his eyes. It was almost as if something was trying to burst through his skin. And then it did. There was a blinding flash and Sabine was brutally knocked against the wall, where she lost consciousness. When her eyes fluttered open, the world was spinning in a blur. Someone was calling her name from very far away. Why was it so hard to focus?

"Sabine, look at me!"

"Wha- Carver?" she muttered groggily.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" her brother asked waving three fingers before her eyes. She pushed him away scowling and looked around. The floor was littered with dead Templars. Not far from them, the culprit was talking heatedly to his friend.

"Anders, you must," Karl begged. "You cannot imagine what it is like! All the colour, all the music in the world - gone!"

"No, not this," Anders shook his head. "You might as well ask me to kill my brother."

"I would rather die a mage than spend the rest of my life as an empty shell," Karl pleaded. "I am asking you as a friend! Quickly, before it fades!"

Anders briefly glanced at Sabine, his face a mask of grief, and then produced a dagger.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Anders?" Karl asked in the monotone of a tranquil.

"Forgive me, my friend," the healer murmured, and slid the blade up to its hilt between the man's ribs. "I can provide healing once we are out of here, but now we must hurry," he said rushing past everyone.

The peace and quiet of Hightown struck Sabine as something wrong, considering what had just transpired in the Chantry. She could not afford to linger there too long, however, and thus hurried down the streets fast on Anders' heels. Once they were in Lowtown, she grabbed the healer's arm, forcing him to whirl around.

"You! You have a lot of explaining to do," she seethed behind her veil.

"We are both more than we appear to be, Hawke," Anders replied quietly. "But this is not the place to discuss our circumstances, don't you think?"

"Perhaps we should head to my quarters at the Hanged Man?" Varric put in gently.

Sabine's face was a thunderstorm as she paced Varric's rooms in silent fury. The dwarf was eyeing her hands – now shrouded in black mist – with apprehension. Carver was directing a murderous glare at Anders, while the latter kept his features carefully composed.

"What happened in there, Anders?" She finally stopped in her tracks, and looked the mage squarely in the face.

"I am sorry, I - "

"You started glowing and then killed a dozen Templars!" Sabine snapped. "What happened?"

"I have some special circumstances," Anders began in measured tones.

"Let me guess?" Sabine snorted. "This is the part where you tell me you are an abomination."

"No!" Anders stood up enraged. He then placed his palms on the table, making an obvious effort at reigning in his temper. "But it is not very far from the truth."

"Well, this should be good," Sabine laughed mirthlessly.

"When I was in Amaranthine, I met a spirit of Justice that was trapped outside the Fade. We... became friends. He recognized the plight of mages in Thedas, and perceived it as an injustice. He... expressed a wish to change things. Together, he thought we could fight against the oppressive rule of the Chantry. I... agreed." Anders paused, working his jaw. "They harm children," he said darkly, then cleared his throat and went on in a milder tone. "I thought I was helping a friend. He would have died otherwise, I guess. Things went wrong, however. I am not sure whether it was coming in contact with human emotions in general, or my own anger, but the spirit became twisted. He is no longer my friend, Justice, but a force of vengeance. Now, things that have always enraged me, but I could never do anything about, bring him out. And Vengeance knows no mercy."

"And you believe spirits to be different from demons?" Sabine asked failing to take the edge off her voice.

"Demons embody our weaknesses, everything that is ugly within our souls," he returned sharply. "Spirits embody our virtues, like bravery, fortitude, justice."

Sabine studied the former Warden for a brief moment, then let out a long breath. Carver looked ready to strike Anders down with one mighty blow of his sword, while Varric shifted uncomfortably in his seat. She took a chair facing Anders and considered her father's teachings about the Fade.

It was nothing but a great trap for mages, where demons lurked at every turn ready to take over one's mind. She had once believed her father's stories about blood mages and abominations to be exaggerated - Malcolm Hawke's way of scaring his daughters into submission when it came to magic. However, Kirkwall and its thin Veil proved her wrong. Presently, if there was one thing she feared more than the Templars, it was mages weak enough to give in to the allure of blood magic and the promises of demons.

"What am I to do with you, Anders? I have so many objections to your reasoning, I do not even know where to begin." She wanted to begin by calling the man an idiot. He still had the maps, however. Antagonizing Anders might also have led to a fireball blowing up in her face.

"You do not have to agree with me – "

"I don't, but what's done is done. Special circumstances indeed." Sabine chuckled, shaking her head, the anger suddenly gone. "So, can the two of you be separated?"

"Not without killing us both," Anders replied. "Even the greatest scholar would find himself hard pressed to tell you just where I begin and Justice ends."

"Then it becomes a matter of controlling him," Sabine concluded. "I would like to help you."

Anders stared at her nonplussed. Even Carver looked up surprised. Well, she couldn't quite explain why she had made such an offer, either. The healer was certainly a good man – after all, it was not every day that she met someone ready to aid those that Kirkwall had discarded without looking to gain some profit from it. But why not leave it to the Wardens?

"I... thank you," the mage stammered. "I am not sure if there is anything that you can do. You are the first person I have ever shared this with. I am surprised you did not run away."

"I am the type of person that would fight rather than run," she growled.

"Right. I guess I owe you some maps," Anders said clearing his throat, and pushed the documents across the table.