Disclaimer: I do not make any profit from this story.
How did it turn out like this.
He was happy. He had passed his Harrowing. His life was suppose to be better afterward now that the threat of being made Tranquil was gone.
Less Templars breathing down his neck, being able to get away from the more devout Senior Enchanters as he was now allowed to spend longer periods alone and unsupervised, and freedom to continue his research. He cared little for the internal politics of the Circle, or anything outside it really. And yet, for reason he couldn't fathom, he had been roped by his friend Jowan into trying to help him run away from the Circle.
Why he had agreed to this to begin with, he would never know.
He had told the First Enchanter as soon as Jowan was out of sight expecting him to deal with this immediately. Instead Irving sends him to help Jowan as part of his own little scheme to shame the Knight-Commander and the Chantry with the fact that one of their Lay Sisters had consorted with a would-be apostate.
It had made sense at first. It would hopefully dampen the inevitable Templar crackdown as soon as it got out that a mage had tried to run-away again, one that's a suspected maleficar no less.
Of course in hindsight it really wouldn't have made a difference. The Chantry had always turned a blind-eye to any heresy by their own people so long as it progressed their own goals. They would shove Lily into some obscure prison or just send her back to the Chantry for retraining, place attention to the fact that the Circle had unknowingly sheltered a Blood Mage, and no one would care about some disgraced lay sister.
He had agreed to Irving's plan because he saw it as an opportunity to examine the vaults. Even though he was an Enchanter now, he was still denied access to it. What manner of magic would he find there?
The kind that actively tried to kill him apparently. The animated statues weren't that difficult to handle. A nice, solid rock spell breaks them apart easily. And blast of arcane energy would destabilize the spell holding them together just as easily. Why this things were expected to be a good defense, especially for something as valuable as the phylacteries of hundreds of mages, he would never know.
Things had gone right. Jowan had destroyed his phylactery, Irving and Gregor were waiting for them right outside the door ready to apprehend Jowan and Lily, and he would be allowed to go back to his research.
Only Amell had far overestimated the skill of the Templar, or rather underestimated how utterly incompetent they were.
Who goes up against a mage, one suspected to be a blood mage and confirmed to be rebellious, and still be caught completely unaware when said mage pulls out a knife and cuts his palm? Idiots.
So now here he was standing between two old men playing the blaming game.
"Excuse me, but can I go to my quarters now?" Mirion Amell, recently Harrowed Mage, soon to be scapegoat asked two bickering old men.
Perhaps he should have just tried to walk away quietly. Gregor turned and instantly redirected his grievances at the young man. Amell immediately regretted his decision as he blocked out the stream of reprimands that flew out of the Knight-Commander's mouth before Irving decided to cut him off. Eventually the two had compromised. While Lily consorting with a Blood Mage wasn't good enough to shame the Templars into not cracking down on all the mages of the Circle, the fact that the Knight-Commander along with several of his lieutenants got knocked on their ass by an apprentice mage was more than enough. It was balanced out by the fact that the First Enchanter was also knocked on his ass.
So the compromise went "We won't harass you or your mages and expose the fact that you got knocked down by an apprentice, if you agree not to leak the fact that we also got our asses handed to us by said apprentice." Of course the actually wording of the agreement was more eloquent, but that was what it boiled down too.
As for young Amell, he was let of with only a slight warning and a few months probation to make sure he wasn't a maleficar. Those months went by fast enough.
Near the end of his probation Amell's friend, Varsuuvius Surana, and elven mage who was the only one who could match his devotion to research had finally been allowed to take the Harrowing and passed easily enough, having been confronted by demon of Sloth that wasn't able to overcome his desire for knowledge. It was fortunate Surana hadn't gone up against a demon of Desire or Pride. They would have picked apart the elf far more effectively than a being of Sloth.
Of course those few months hadn't been all good. Darkspawn had risen out of the Deep Roads and began raiding small towns. King Cailan had decided to take the fight to the darkspawn, assembling his army and winning several skirmishes against the horde. And now he had called upon the lords of Fereldan and the Circle to join him in what he calls "the final glorious battle". And as luck would have it, the time of this battle just happened to coincide with the final week of Amell's probation.
And so he was to be sent out along with several others to join the army at Ostagar. "Fighting of such odds without succumbing to the temptation of demons for the sake of survival" would be a good final test they said. He had no complaints, as it was his chance to examine the almost mythical darkspawn. Their blood was said to be poisonous with the only possible cure being the Grey Warden's joining.
Amell wondered "How hard had they actually tried curing it?"
He was going to a battle and blood will be available in rivers. Varsuuvius was late to the news and had asked him to bring back some blood for the elf's own research. The payment that Surana offered was a journal containing a few spells that the elf had invented. Nothing truly awe-inspiring like the fabled Shapeshifting of the Witches of the Wild, but nothing to scoff at either. The spell labeled only "Disintegrate" looked very promising. The journal also carried some of Surana's theories on shapeshifting, from possible methods of transformation and the limits.
As Amell was packing his things for the trip to Ostagar, Irving decided to pay him a visit.
"Amell, may I have a word?" Asking was just a courtesy. Amell was expected to agree.
"Of course, First Enchanter. What did you want to speak about."
Irving respectfully refused as Amell offered him a seat before responding "I just wished to speak with you concerning the upcoming battle."
"What is there to speak about? It is to be my final test if I've heard you and the Knight-Commander correctly, is it not?" The fact that legally, the Harrowing was supposed to be a Circle Mages final test went unsaid, but not unheard by both.
"Yes, that is true. I just wished to ask you of your plans for the battle itself."
"Follow orders. I have nothing to gain from doing otherwise." That was completely true. He had nothing to gain by being insubordinate. And Irving believed him. The old man always had a soft spot for his star pupil.
"Very well. I will leave you to your preparations. Promise you will stay safe."
"With all due respect, First Enchanter, I'm not sure if that's one I can keep." Amell's tone of voice was calm. It gave away no emotions.
The First Enchanter gave him a weary smile and a nod before walking out. Amells returned to his preparations.
Staff? Check.
Runes? Check.
Lyrium? Check.
Spare clothes? Check.
Journal? Check.
Alchemy Kit? Check.
Cat? Che-
Wait. He didn't own a cat.
Amell stared at the large orange tabby he held in his hands. The cat's large green eyes stared back.
He set the cat back down and let him scamper of in search of rats or something as he went back to checking his pack.
"Everything seems to be in order." Sling his pack on his back he left to join the rest of the mages going to Ostagar. "I really hope I didn't forget anything important."
Surana walked into the Living Area of Harrowed Mages. With a good portion of the Senior Enchanters gone, there were fewer unharrowed mages practicing with the Senior Enchanters, meaning it was a lot quieter. It was a good place for a nap and an undisturbed reading marathon. Surana preferred the latter. As Surana sat down a familiar object entered the elf's vision.
"Hmm. Didn't expect Amell to forget this."
The journey to Ostagar was so far uneventful. The route they had taken was deemed safe at it lived up to that assessment. Not even a pack of wolves. Amell had hoped to find some signs of the Blight on the way to Ostagar and is now very disappointed.
At least until they had stumbled across a Dwarf cleaning blood that was to dark to be anything other than Darkspawn blood of him, clad only in common clothes and wielding a bastard sword. Around the dwarf were several darkspawn corpses, with the beginning of a really long line of them visible near the edge of the forest.
Durkon Aeducan, he had introduced himself. "Where are you lot going?"
They had answered honestly. The dwarf had further inquired as to whether or not the Grey Wardens would be present. When he received confirmation, he had respectfully requested to be taken along with them. They had no reason to refuse.
And when no one was looking, Amell knelt beside a dead genlock and collected a few vials of blood before moving on to a Hurlock and doing the same.
The dwarf had asked if they could be bothered to mend his injuries. Amell volunteered. It was a good chance to possibly observe the effects of the blight on an infected individual. He could see the effect of it on the dwarf. His skin was noticeably paling, his veins darkening. Healing magic seems to have slowed the process.
The Chantry claimed that the source of the darkspawn was the Maker casting down and cursing Tevinter Magisters who had thought themselves capable of matching god. Curse, like magic.
If the Blight's effects had originated from magic, it might be possible to purge it's effects as one would a curse or an enchantment. Would it possible to resist it's effects with the aid of spell as some schools of magic had done? As the templars can?
Templars... They claimed that their ability to resist magic came from regularly imbibing Lyrium, although some say that the Lyrium was a way of controlling the Templars by getting them addicted to the substance, that it doesn't play as large a role in their powers as the Chantry claims. Still, Amell couldn't deny that Lyrium had some affect on magic. Perhaps Lyrium could help stall blight sickness? He would test that later, but not on the dwarf.
While Amell was confident in his combat skills, he had no intention of antagonizing and fighting someone capable of leaving behind that many bodies while most likely slowly dying from a sickness gotten from fighting darkspawn. Especially not if that someone was a member of a species that had some resistance to magic and was likely capable of infecting him with the same sickness. He didn't want to study the effects that up close.
It was said that the only cure to the Taint was becoming a Grey Warden. What was their solution? A closely guarded blood ritual that provided immunity? Some obscure spell researched all the way back to the First Blight? Acquired resistence and eventual immunity from carefully regulated altered dosages of Darkspawn blood?
The blood. That was how the Taint was carried from person to person. Cures to several kinds of poison were discovered by researching to poisons themselves. The key to a cure would lie in the blood.
Amell wrote all of this and more in his journal before stuffing it in his bag. The Grey Warden's immunity and cure could also provide answers. He would see them soon enough. Hopefully at least one of them would fall in the battle and he could collect their blood.
He looked at the sleeping dwarf. Durkon obviously plans on becoming a Grey Warden to save himself. Whether or not he succeeds isn't set in stone. Still, the blood of someone, before and after becoming a Grey Warden, would prove useful in his research. It was unfortunate that he did not manage to obtain some of Durkon's blood from before he was tainted, but there was nothing to be done about that. As soon as they had finished packing up their camp they would continue. Ostagar was only a day and night away. Amell would try his best to keep Durkon alive until then.