Emergence

Chapter I: Recruitment

The Circle Tower, to most of its apprentices, seemed like a haven—a sanctuary where they could finally belong. To most of the Circle's hierarchy, it was a tower filled with potential and hope for a better future with these many talents. To the templars, it was a secret prison to restrict the ways the mages could use their destructive powers. To three particular apprentices, however, the Circle Tower was but a temporary home. Logan Amell had no intention of staying here forever, trapped within these cold, stone walls. This notion was supported greatly by his cousins—Garrett and Bethany Hawke.

Logan had been sent to the Tower first, but it was not long before he saw two familiar faces entering the apprentice quarters a few weeks after he had settled in. For the first time in a long time then, he had felt relieved. He was no longer alone. Thankful that they had spent a part of their childhoods together, the three mages had stayed together as close companions ever since, being the only family left to each other.

He was initially surprised that Malcolm would send his children to the Tower, but soon discovered that Garrett and Bethany had been, in fact, snatched from the Hawke family in Lothering by templars. Garrett recalled that it was one of the villagers—perhaps a templar sympathizer—that had leaked the information to the 'proper authorities', and the three made a promise to return to Lothering one day—to return to their family. Logan's father and mother were both apostates—their fates had been kept a secret from him ever since he came to become a Circle mage apprentice, but there was little wonder in what happened to them.

The mutual dislike the three held for the templars only brought them closer together, and they had since spent months discussing potential methods of breaking out of the Circle—but only after their Harrowings. Logan and Garrett had gone through their Harrowing first. A few weeks after Bethany's eighteenth birthday, she finally managed to prove her mettle in the Fade and joined her older cousin and brother. They had passed their tests with surprising ease, and it had even impressed the Knight-Commander, Greagoir.

Irving had his eye on them too, for they were bursting with magical potential. The blood of mages ran in the Amell line and the name Hawke had always been associated with mages—it was no wonder these three were so talented in the ways of the arcane.

But they had no interest in receiving much attention even from the First Enchanter himself, and it worried the old man. He had seen many apprentices in the past attempting to escape, only to end up slain by the templars, and he feared that this would befall the three gifted mages. He had since then kept a close eye on them, much to their annoyance, and had unknowingly forced them to keep a low profile whenever they gathered to discuss plans for a possible escape in the near future.

It was then that Jowan had approached the three, lamenting about how the templars and the senior enchanters were planning to make him a Tranquil. It was convenient and also seemingly right, so Logan and the Hawkes agreed to helping him and his love, Lily, escape the Circle Tower after destroying his phylactery a few nights after their plan had been conceived in the privacy of the single mage quarters, where Logan had been placed with his cousins.

"Did you get the rod of fire?" Bethany asked, as the two older mages stepped in looking tired and worn. "What's wrong?"

"We had to clean out an infestation of spiders in the storage," Garrett growled, his hair even more disheveled than usual. "All for this blasted rod of fire!"

Bethany bit her lip, trying her best not to laugh. Her brother shot her a glare, as they crossed the room over to Jowan and Lily. "Well, here you go," Logan said, handing it to Jowan. "We can head to the repository now."

"Thank you," Jowan said, "You don't know how much this means to me."

"And to us," Logan agreed. He turned to the window and lost himself in the beautiful sunset for a few moments. He had never stepped out of the Circle for so long—he had forgotten what fresh air had smelled like. But it was close, Logan knew, freedom was catching up to them as the seconds went by.

"We wait until nightfall before moving," he added, as an afterthought. "The templars won't lessen their numbers until the sun goes down."

"Right," Jowan nodded, and placed the rod of fire on Logan's desk. "We'll just have to wait—by the way, Logan, the First Enchanter wants to see you."

Logan frowned. "Do you know why?" he asked.

Jowan shrugged. "I don't know, sorry," he replied, "But it should be important."

"It always is," Logan muttered irritably. He turned and made for the door, before turning back to the four. "Don't make the templars suspicious of us. We're already so close to our family," he said, and glanced at Jowan before adding, "And our futures."

Logan always felt their eyes on him, regardless of whether he was alone or with Garrett and Bethany, but paid them no attention. The templars were always wary of the mages under their charge, always waiting for that moment when one of them would fall and make a mistake and waiting for that moment when they were allowed to strike down just one more mage so that they could rid Ferelden and all of Thedas of one more potential abomination. Logan surged with anger every time he thought about their stupidity and ignorance—their misconceptions have branded them as fools, and yet most mages bow down to their control.

Most mages didn't feel the same way he did, and he wondered why. He wondered why no other mage had felt trapped like a bird in a cage. He wondered how Irving could even withstand the inside of the Tower, after living such a long and probably fruitless—as long as one was in the Tower—life as a First Enchanter. Perhaps they were cowards, just like their templar watchmen. Maybe they were afraid of being killed, and that was why they submitted to a fighting force that was, in reality, much weaker than them.

Suddenly, just as Logan ascended the stairs, he crashed blindly into what he thought was a set of armor that had been misplaced from its usual spot that could have been at both sides of every entrance and regularly along corridors in the tower. He knew the armors were always enchanted, and would come to life in the event of an unwarranted attack. But this was no suit of armor, Logan realized, as he looked up at the Knight-Commander's face.

"Knight-Commander," Logan greeted, his voice carefully neutral, bearing no kind of acknowledgement to the older man whatsoever.

"Ah, Logan," Greagoir said evenly, "What thoughts cloud even your vision, young mage?"

"I don't suppose you think it's any of your business," Logan taunted, raising his eyebrows.

Greagoir looked as though he was about to attack Logan, but the Knight-Commander had, surprisingly, enough self-control. Logan would have liked to see the Knight-Commander lose his temper over nothing—their words exchanged had not been provocative enough for anyone to put the blame on Logan—but he supposed it would never happen, seeing as how he was about to make his escape very, very soon.

"Careful with your words, Amell," Greagoir threatened, "Or you'll be joining the—"

"Threatening me, Knight-Commander?" Logan interjected, already knowing what the templar was going to say. "Just so you know, Greagoir, I have no intentions of joining the Tranquil. It is something most mages in the Tower regard worse than death, and if you were to try—"

"That is enough, the both of you." Over Greagoir's shoulder, Logan could see Irving looking down at the both of them with a look of clear disapproval. Always the mediator, Logan thought, always looking for a neutral way out.

Greagoir looked scandalized. "First Enchanter! You heard what he said!"

Irving shook his head. "I also heard what you said, Greagoir," Irving said, descending the stairs with care until he was level with the both of them. "You cannot possibly expect me to tolerate such behavior from the both of you forever."

Logan gritted his teeth as he glared at Greagoir, who looked equally frustrated. "I'm sorry, First Enchanter," Logan growled, "I just don't fancy the idea of becoming Tranquil."

"I will not allow that to happen," Irving assured Logan, before turning back to Greagoir. "Knight-Commander, I would advise you to refrain from lashing out at the mages. They are young, just as young Logan here is."

"Young," Greagoir repeated, with disgust in his tone, "You just don't want me to touch your precious talent, Irving, and you know it. It is not a crime to be wary of all the mages—especially the more potent ones that stand out—in case something goes wrong so the templars are ready. Keep defending him like that and you will see the dog biting at his master's hand!"

Logan watched the retreating figure of Greagoir, and shook his head. It almost sounded as though Greagoir knew what they had been planning, but Logan knew better. Greagoir had always been obsessed with the idea that the mages were plotting to stand up and overthrow the templars and rule themselves instead of letting external elements control their way of teaching.

If they're not careful with their attitude, Logan thought, it might just happen one day.

"Logan, this must be the fifth time this week," Irving said with an amused look on his face, "You and Greagoir have been arguing for as long as I can remember."

"He's mostly the reason why these needless fights happen," Logan said heatedly, "He's a tyrant and you know it, First Enchanter."

Irving chuckled and patted the young man on the back. "It was not too long ago that I had the same notion you do," Irving drawled, "I was but a young boy, just like you, thrust into the arms of the templars and locked in the Tower. I did not approve of their methods of control, but alas, we must all learn to accept the things that we cannot change."

"Cannot change?" Logan repeated in disbelief. "There are always chances for change. The only problem is that the mages are too afraid to try and fight for their own rights and for fair treatment—"

"That would only give them a reason to persecute us even more," Irving pointed out.

Logan sighed. Irving had always been a neutral figure in the Tower, much to the mages' dislike. Many have felt that Irving should stand up to the templars more, but the old man merely served as a mediator for most matters between templars and mages—matters that had mostly concerned Greagoir and Logan. Ever since his first argument with the Knight-Commander, his friends had begun to look up to him as an example of what mages should become—headstrong and brave. Logan had never appreciated the attention—especially since Greagoir had caught wind of the mages' talk and his attitude towards Logan had become more than just hostile.

"They are a detriment to the mages. They abuse their own power and jump at every chance to strike down even one more mage, as though we are a parasite that has stained Thedas. Perhaps they might even one day decide to call for the Rite of Annulment upon every single mage, if they ever become that ruthless."

Irving shook his head with a small smile. "The templars may be aggressive and strong in their ideals, but they are not mindless murderers, Logan, be mindful of that."

"Yes, First Enchanter," Logan said, deciding to drop the matter altogether. Discussion with Irving would be pointless and a waste of time—Logan knew that nightfall was coming fast, so he decided to go straight to the point. "What was it you wanted to see me about?"

"Ah, I have someone I would like you to meet," Irving said, leading Logan to his office. The mahogany doors swung open as Irving entered with Logan at his side, greeting a dark-haired man with a sword and a dagger strapped to the back of his armor. This was no ordinary man, Logan knew.

"Duncan," Irving said heartily, "Thank you for waiting."

"It was no trouble," Duncan said, smiling warmly at Irving before turning to Logan. "Is this the 'strapping young man' you spoke of?"

"Yes," Irving said, his tone laced with pride, "This is Logan Amell. Logan, this is Duncan. He is a Grey Warden—you know what they are, don't you?"

Logan had spent most of his time in the library with his nose buried in books—not the kind that mages use to look for spells, but history books—and had indeed learnt a lot about Grey Wardens.

"They fight darkspawn," Logan said, "And they protect the lands from the Blights."

Duncan smiled appreciatively at Logan. "This man is well-read," he said approvingly. "You certainly did not exaggerate, Irving."

Exaggerate? What exactly had Irving told Duncan? Logan looked to Irving with a questioning look, but the First Enchanter merely chuckled. Logan glanced at Duncan, who seemed to be constantly observing him—it unnerved him to no end, but he knew better than to show disrespect to a Grey Warden, especially when he was one of the Circle Tower's guests.

He remembered the first time he came across a Knight-Commander from Kirkwall—what was her name? Meredith?—and, in his annoyance for being punished by Greagoir the week before because he had accidentally set a templar on fire, had rushed up to the woman and told her to leave, for 'bullies were not allowed in the Tower, and one was enough'. She seemed a little amused at that time, but Greagoir had seized him by the collar of his shirt and shoved him in the chapel, where he told the initiates to keep a close eye on him for the rest of the day. Irving had merely sighed and shook his head then, but later that night, he had given Logan a long lecture about respecting others.

Despite his dislike for Greagoir and possibly every other Knight-Commander in existence, Logan accepted Irving's pleas and became more reserved around anyone that was of some importance to Irving—anyone that wasn't Greagoir.

"What was I called here for?" Logan asked.

Duncan wasted no time. "The army and the King are gathered at Ostagar, in preparation to fend off a possible Blight. A horde of darkspawn—not a small caravan—have been spotted there, and it would seem that they are to attack and invade Ferelden."

"A Blight?" muttered Logan, frowning.

"The Grey Wardens suspect it to be so, but there have been no signs of an archdemon yet."

'Yet' was a word that did not bode well for anyone, and it worried Logan. "You're here to recruit mages?" he asked, "To fight at Ostagar?"

"Correct," Duncan said, "We need as many as we can get—there is no telling whether the archdemon will make its appearance at Ostagar or how large the darkspawn numbers are. That is why you are here."

"Me?" Logan quipped. "Why me?"

"You are as talented as you are strong, Logan," Irving pointed out, "The most suitable candidate would have to be you, Garrett and Bethany. You are to go in the stead of the Circle of Magi and serve as a protector of Ferelden alongside the army and the Wardens. I did not choose you out of a whim—I chose you because I know you are capable of what I am entrusting you and your cousins with."

Logan leaned against the door. This would almost complicate things entirely—even if this gave him a chance to leave the Tower, he knew that once the fight was over, he would surely have to come back. There would be no escape for him, even if he could once again take a step out of the damn Tower. It was frustrating yet tempting, for he had always wanted to prove his abilities and use them in a real fight, but going back to the Tower was something he knew he could not withstand.

"What if I don't want to?" Logan muttered, "What if I'm not sure?"

"I will be staying here for the night," Duncan said, "You can look for me in the morning and tell me your decision by then. Would that be fine?"

Logan knew he wouldn't be here by morning, but there was no harm in reassuring Duncan for the moment. "Of course," Logan said, nodding, "I would prefer that way, as well."

"Very well then, if that is what you wish," Irving said, although Logan could sense the enchanter's disappointment that he did not jump at the opportunity to represent Ferelden's Circle of Magi at the battlefront. He suspected that Irving was troubled because he had always intended for his three favorite pupils to do something great with their talents—his favoritism was not well-concealed, which was also another reason why Greagoir held a specific grudge against them. "We will meet again in the morning. Logan, would you mind taking Duncan back to the guest room then?"

"Of course." Logan pulled the door open and led Duncan out into the corridor and to his room.

"You seemed troubled back there," Duncan said suddenly.

Logan nearly laughed. He was more nervous than troubled, but felt a little excited at the thought of leaving tonight. He wondered what Duncan's face would look like in the morning when he realized that Logan had already taken off the night before. But most of all, he wondered how freedom would taste like. He suppressed a grin as he shook his head.

"I was just tired," Logan lied, "And I hate this place. You don't see me enjoying myself very often here."

"I see," Duncan said, as though he was going into deep thought about something. It only took them several more steps before they stopped outside Duncan's room. "Well, here we are," Logan muttered, opening the door for the Warden. "Good night, Grey Warden."

"Please, call me Duncan," the man said. "And also, Logan—I hope you will decide to join us in Ostagar."

Logan said nothing as Duncan retreated into his room, and immediately made for his own room where the rest would certainly be waiting in anticipation for him. If everything was carried out as planned, then he would perhaps think about Ostagar afterwards.

His only concern at the moment was cutting his ties from the Circle.