Chapter One: No More Mercy
Commander Cullen rubbed his tired brow as he stood and watched the new recruits being lectured. He was not normally with the recruits anymore, not even to observe, not now that the Inquisition had moved to Skyhold and its numbers were increasing every day because of those looking to join the Inquisition or those who were just visiting to see the Inquisition's grand progress. Since moving to Skyhold, his job had essentially become a desk job. When he wasn't in his office looking over reports and summarizing them in ink for the Inquisitor, he was at the war table advising Inquisitor Trevelyan in matters of troop movements and opportunities across Thedas for their forces. This took up a majority of Cullen's time.
Still, Cullen always tried to keep track of the progress of the new recruits through the reports and liaisons. After all, the recruits were men and women who were giving up their normal lives to fight for a greater cause. They deserved some attention. He often found himself wishing he could give them more of his attention. Maybe he should go back to training them as he was in Haven, when the Inquisition was still a babe.
But with a battle against Corypheus' forces drawing near, that just wasn't possible. The Inquisitor needed Cullen focusing on war tactics and overseeing all of the Inquisition's army, not personally training the army.
Although, in regards to that matter, Cullen could imagine the Inquisitor saying something like, "If it would help us win against Corypheus."
It could, Cullen would reply if he was feeling smug.
Today he was not feeling smug. Today he was having a particularly bad day with his lyrium withdrawals. He was most certainly not in a good mood, but he was trying not to make it noticeable by staying in his office reading reports from Commander Rylen at Griffon Wing Keep.
Yet Cullen found himself distracted from his work by a commotion that had somehow arisen from the Inquisition's latest army recruits. He was now outside his office, standing at the sidelines of Skyhold's training area as one of the drill sergeants yelled at a line of twelve recruits with the fury of the Andraste behind his words.
Apparently the recruits had started a free-for-all swordfight that caused one of the surgeon's tents to get knocked down—thankfully empty at the time. Three sacks of medicinal herbs got trampled. And a mage that was caught in the swordfight set fire to four training dummies. Costly, Cullen foresaw Josephine's outlook of the situation—if it got brought up; and it no doubt would be, even if in passing at the war table.
He could see Leliana being embarrassed for Cullen's sake as the Inquisitor just laughed at the entirety of the matter, which would put a damper in Cullen asking for a proper infirmary within Skyhold, away from the training area. He saw it as a very serious matter. Recruits should not be allowed to act this way, he told himself as he rubbed his brow, feeling irritated.
Cullen would also have to expect a vehement letter from the surgeon to arrive in his office later on, if the surgeon herself didn't show up at his office door with a death threat. Cullen grimaced; with all her talk of amputations and drilling holes into people's heads, the surgeon scared him.
"This is not behavior befit for an Inquisition soldier," the drill sergeant spat into the face of one of the recruits. "Our army does not allow troublemakers into our ranks. Do you understand?! If the person who was responsible for starting this 'free-for-all' does not step forward, then all of you will be kicked out of the Inquisition and sent back to where you came from. Do you hear me?!"
There was silence among the recruits and the rightfully impatient drill sergeant stamped down the line with a scowl that could scare away almost anyone who was truly guilty.
Before the drill sergeant reached the end of the line, someone stepped forward.
"Drill Sergeant, it was me. I started and encouraged the free-for-all."
The drill sergeant stepped up to the woman who had stepped forward.
"I'm also the one who knocked down the tent," the woman added with a small amount of shame in her voice. The recruit was a small, very petite and slender woman. Her average-sized sword at her hip was almost half the length that she was. Her helmet was obviously too big for her head, because as the drill sergeant glared at her in contempt, the woman pushed the rim of it out of her field of view just so she could see forward.
"You," the drill sergeant said with disgust, but with no surprise. "I somehow knew it was you, Recruit Calloway. You've been nothing but trouble the moment you stepped into my training ground."
Calloway, Cullen recalled the name. He remembered seeing the name in several of the daily reports he had received on the recruits over that past four weeks. He specifically remembered a report that said that Recruit Calloway was constantly arguing with the drill sergeant. The first day had been about how she did not want to wear her helmet, and how she refused to use a sword that would fit her "build". Cullen was certain that build was the word the drill sergeant had used in the report, and now he understood why. Her build was not very… soldierly. It was barely a build at all.
The second mentioning of Calloway in a report was of how she had managed to accidentally knock over, with her sword, the scaffolding being used to repair a crumbling wall near the training area, setting the repair schedule back by several days. Other reports later in the week revealed more acts of clumsiness committed by Calloway; more and more small damages that added up to be costly.
The following week there was a report of all the shields in the armory being found with a blue phallic symbol painted on their fronts. Calloway was discovered not only with the jar of blue paint under her bed, but the blue paint was also on her person. She was punished by having to scrub-wash every shield and armament in the armory.
According to the Drill Sergeant's progress reports, Calloway was also struggling in training, unable to keep up with the progress of the others. Not to mention the periodic scraps she would get into with them, alienating her from the group in team exercises.
So this was the what? Eighth? Ninth time? That Recruit Calloway had caused trouble. Cullen was not very happy.
"That's it, Calloway! You're done," the drill sergeant barked. "Pack up your things, and leave. I'm kicking you out of the Inquisition."
"Sir, I must decline your resolution," the petite recruit argumentatively said in return.
"You what?!" the drill sergeant screamed back. "You don't have a choice in the matter! This isn't your Inquisition! You're leaving, or I'll have you thrown in the stocks for trespassing on Inquisition property!"
A few of Skyhold's visitors were now stopped and watching. Calloway's insubordination was causing a scene. Cullen knew this was going to come back to haunt him at the war table.
Calloway remained at attention in front of the drill sergeant and said, "Put me in the stocks, Drill Sergeant. But I am not leaving."
"Dragon shite! I will have you put in the stocks if you—"
Cullen had had enough. He angrily sighed and stepped toward the recruits, firmly calling out, "Calloway. I want to see you in my office. Now!" And he began walking in the applicable direction.
Everyone, upon the command Cullen had given Calloway, including the drill sergeant, had frozen into position, more so than they already were for being at attention. They knew, without a doubt, that Calloway was now in real trouble. And perhaps, the sympathetic recruits and onlookers were worried as to how the small, argumentative recruit would react to an order given by the Commander of the Inquisition's armies. Would she argue with him? Insubordination to Commander Cullen could land her a spot in the Inquisition's dungeons, for life.
Calloway had still not moved, so Cullen stopped, turned, and with frustration said, "Well? You shouldn't keep your Commander waiting. Move, recruit."
And so she did. Without glancing at any of the other recruits or the drill sergeant, Calloway followed Cullen in the direction of his office. The walk was long and silent; and Cullen could only imagine how humiliating it was for Calloway as everyone they passed stared at her in horror—as if the happening on the training ground had already spread through Skyhold like mage fire.
Thankfully, Cullen hadn't needed to turn around to make sure Calloway was keeping up with him; the recruit was diligent and dutiful in her steps as she followed him. He did briefly wonder if perhaps the recruit was fearful for her life, but he decided against the notion. He wasn't that scary. Was he? He knew he could be if he wanted to be. Oh Maker, had he terrified the poor recruit? That had not been his intention.
When they finally reached his office door, he opened it and gestured for Calloway to enter first, avoiding eye contact with her when she went in without hesitation. Not that he could see her eyes, anyway—they were covered by her ill-fit helmet again. Once she was inside, Cullen followed suit, closing the door behind him.
Cullen could only think of a few other instances where he had spoken with someone in his office on misconduct before. Never at Skyhold; and certainly not recently. The last time had been in Kirkwall when he was a Knight-Captain. Typically he would confront the misconduct upfront and in front of everyone, but that could have proven to be a mistake in a case like Calloway's. And Calloway wasn't a Templar. Cullen would be angrier with her if she was. A misbehaving Templar was—well, Cullen used to find it dastardly and intolerable. Now, with the Red Templars walking around, it seemed common.
"Have a seat," Cullen told her, and he gestured to the chair in front of his desk. As she sat, he went around to his side of the desk and remained standing with his arms crossed. It wasn't meant to look intimidating; it was his usual stance when he was waiting for something.
When Calloway seemed settled into the chair, Cullen started with, "Recruit Calloway—"
"Mercy, Commander," she interrupted him.
Cullen's words got caught in his throat. Had he terrified her so much that she was asking for mercy? She didn't look to be shaking from where he was. She looked steady, and even relaxed, despite that he couldn't see her face from underneath the rim of her helmet.
She wasn't scared, he finally decided, before he expressed, "Let me finish, and you may find that I am merciful."
Calloway right-out chuckled. "Mercy is my name, Commander," she explained. "Mercy Calloway."
Cullen found that he couldn't speak, again. "Oh," he simply replied.
Recruit Calloway then took the moment to remove her helmet, revealing sharp, bright green eyes, and dark brown hair that was kept in a bun at the back of her head. Her height and vibrant voice had lead Cullen to believe she was young, perhaps still a teen, but her face was defined enough to reveal that she was older—perhaps in her late twenties.
Calloway ruffled the top of her head where strands of her hair were escaping and sticking up in different directions. She then chuckled a second time, rested her helmet on her leg, and said, "Helmet hair," before she looked up and innocently smiled at the Cullen.
The first thought that popped into Cullen's head was: Maker's Mercy, her eyes are beautiful. He almost voiced this thought, but caught himself by forcing himself to look at his desk.
"Recruit Mercy, the way you prefer, then," he started again. "I've gotten multiple reports on your misconduct. The drill sergeant has marked you as a troublemaker, and from what I've seen in the reports and now witnessed down on the training grounds, I quite agree. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Recruit Mercy stirred in the chair. "Innocent until proven guilty?" she hesitantly asked.
"You do realize that you confessed out there, to almost half of Skyhold?" Cullen asked; he was beginning to wonder about Mercy's sanity.
"Of course, Commander," she said with regret, but there was also resolve in her voice. "Someone had to step up and take the blame, or everyone would have been sent home."
Cullen was silent as he considered her answer. He had misjudged her character, he understood that immediately. However, there was still the matter of her inability to keep up with the other recruits' progress.
"Why are you here, Mercy?" he eventually blurted. "Your determination to be in the army is honorable, I'll give you that. But you are clearly not… " he stopped while he was ahead of himself. Instead, he chose to say, "You barely fit into your own armor. You're clumsy with a sword. The other recruits have singled you out as an easy target to pick on. You're not—"
"Army material," she finished for him, nodding.
"Yes," he agreed, offering a sympathizing frown. "I think at this point, it is best that I agree with the drill sergeant and have you sent home."
"I'm not leaving," she stubbornly replied.
"Fine," Cullen said as he turned his attention to a paper on his desk, pretending to be done with the conversation. "You don't have to leave Skyhold, but you are not staying in the Inquisition's army; I just kicked you out."
It was harsh, he knew. It was also the right decision.
Mercy stayed seated and silent for a good long minute. The hand resting on her leg then twitched almost into a fist, and she grimaced. Then she sighed. "Fine," she repeated his settlement of the matter, in a defeated tone. "You're right. I'm clearly not right for your army." She then stood and set her helmet on his desk, before unstrapping the sword on her waist. She then raised the sword and dropped it onto the center of Cullen's desk. "You asked me why I am here. I am here, Commander Cullen, because I have faith. I will now let that faith guide me to a new occupation. Thank you for clearing up my misperception as to what I thought it was before."
With that, she turned and walked out of his office, closing the door behind her.
Cullen stared at the closed door for a long time. There had been no anger in her parting words, as he had expected. She had not even slammed the door behind her. Had he wanted her to argue with him, he was realizing? Was he really feeling that combative from the lyrium withdrawals that he took it out on a recruit who had just took the blame for the misconduct of several others who had been bullying her? And she had just let him do it—this Mercy Calloway had just let Cullen kick her out of the army without a fight.
Cullen plopped himself into his chair and rested his head in a hand, slamming his other hand onto the desk. The sword in front of him jumped. He looked down at it, noticing that it was not the normal sword of a recruit. He picked it up by the hilt and it examined it more closely. It was a customized sword—a family sword, he noted the heraldry mark engraved into the blade. It was the heraldry of the Highever teyrnir.
That's when the door to Cullen's office opened and the Inquisitor stepped in. "Cullen, I hope this isn't a bad time… Hey, who was that who just left your office? She looked upset. Uh-oh," the Inquisitor said as he saw the sword in Cullen's hand. "What happened?"
"Maxwell," Cullen informally acknowledged the Inquisitor, but standing from the desk in respect. "I'm actually rather confused as to what just happened. I, uh… I think the woman I just dismissed from the army just turned in her family sword to me."
The Inquisitor cocked an eyebrow and whistled. "You kicked her out of the Inquisition's army? No wonder she looked upset. And the sword… You clearly don't understand a woman's scorn. The sword has to be a message. Maybe she's saying she's going to come back and kill you. I think you should run after her and beg for forgiveness."
"Funny," Cullen said with a crude smile. Then he sighed. "But you're right. I think I made a mistake somewhere. I should at least make sure she gets her sword back."
"Let me know if you need any help," Maxwell spoke with a happy-to-help smile. Then he made for the door.
"Did you need something?" Cullen asked after him.
"Not really," Maxwell shrugged. "I heard what happened on the training ground and I wanted to see for myself if everything was okay."
"Nothing goes unseen here," Cullen grumbled as Maxwell left whistling a happy tune.
AN: So the unexpected happened. Cullen stole a place in my heart. He'll never replace the special place I have for Alistair, but Commander Cullen did succeed in making his own special place. Darn that quirky side-glance and smile of his. Anyway, I became inspired to write an Inquisition romance story for Cullen, but a romance with the Inquisitor would have been too redundant. Instead, I hope you enjoy the cheese that will ensue between Cullen and Mercy Calloway. This story is just for fun as I continue my DA research (by playing Inquisition).
