Wherein the Kirkwall Circle and Templars get absolutely hammered. Crack, drunken Bethany / Cullen.

Calogrenant is one of the minor knights at King Arthur's table. "The Question, Gentlemen, is one of Liquor" is from Gilbert and Sullivan's operetta Trial by Jury.

The Knight and the Mage-Maid Fair

With carefully measured steps, Knight-Captain Cullen marched down the narrow hallway, the only sound being the rhythmic clattering of his mail-and-plate. His hand remained rested on the pommel of his sword, his senses awake. He did not expect trouble on his routine evening patrol through the junior mages' living quarters – but if there was one thing the Order's training and the Ferelden incident had taught him, it was that there was no such thing as "too vigilant."

"And he said, 'broke 'er phylactary? Why, I 'ardly knew 'er!'"

Roaring laughter echoed through the narrow hallway, muffled by the heavy doors of enchanted oak. Cullen tensed. What was that? There had been no reports of broken phylacteries for years, thank the Maker. Perhaps an old story? As softly as his armour permitted, Cullen followed the noise. There – the sign on the door read Hawke, Bethany. He knew the girl – hardly one to incite rebellion, he would have thought. He had been there for her Harrowing. Even so, there seemed to be a gathering inside her cell past the curfew. Cullen had half a mind to call for back-up, then decided to first ascertain what was happening. He stepped to the cell door and opened the spyhole.

The small cell was packed to the brim with young men and women in colourful robes, talking loudly. Maker, most of the junior enchanters and some of the older apprentices were here. And there – was that Brother Hugh? Sister Ruvena? His view into the room was briefly blocked by a mage's shoulder, but when she moved, he could see one of his brother knights seated in the middle of the room, still in full uniform. His head was thrown back, a bottle at his lips. Red wine ran through his beard as the mages around him chanted "Drink! Drink! Drink!"

A sudden anger flared up within him. Fraternisation with the mages was not only forbidden by the fifty-eighth provision of the Rule of the Templars, but also dangerous. All the most threatening mage uprisings and all the most successful fugitive apostates had had Templar aid. To consort with mages was to open oneself to manipulation, exploitation and demonic possession. He knew he had to call for back-up to disperse the crowd and take his erring brothers into custody, but he could no longer contain himself. Cullen drew his sword and opened the door.

He was treated with a cheer and a flagon of wine. "Knight-Captaaaaaiiiin!," one of his men bawled. Cullen could make out Enchanter Hawke shooting him an apologetic glance from the corner she had retreated into. Suddenly, getting drunk didn't seem that bad of an idea.

"I mean, when you think about it, like, seriously think about it, then desire demons are, like, totally gay."

"Nuh-uh. They're hot. That's why they're desire demons, not … not … gay demons."

"Just stay with me for a second here. They're supposed to be the forbidden fruit, aren't they? And they're purple. Like, purple purple."

"So what? I like purple."

"So do gay people!"

"But boobies …"

"You sound like a horny teenager, mate."

"I'm drunk, not horny."

"Yeah, right."

"Arcane Bolt."

"Hey, we're almost out of ale," someone realised three hours into the debauch.

"There's more in the cellars," Brother Clovis claimed. "Ser Calogra... Caleganz... that guy says there's barrels of ale and racks of wine."

"Now that's an idea I can get behind …" Leaning on a giggling Bethany Hawke and her apprentice Ella, Cullen stumbled to his feet, already dangerously swaying and raised his sword. "Onwards, then! To the cellars, everyone!"

Someone started singing, and soon most mages and Templars were roaring at the tops of their lungs. "From there to here, from here to there, all chaste and brave and a Templar true! He smelled that girl in the summer air, the knight, the knight and the mage-maid fair!"

Cullen presumed they had found their liquor in the cellars, as Brother Calogrenant was snoring next to him when he regained his consciousness. He lay on a thick carpet in what seemed like a Hightown brothel. Most of the mages were still in sight, though he was in no condition to count. Somehow, he got to his feet.

"Remind me never to drink with mages," he told the girl next to him. His tongue felt heavy and resistant to his efforts.

"What?" Bethany Hawke. Damn, that was embarrassing. The alcohol had brought out the red on her cheeks. "The night is still … still going on. Oooh, I've always wanted to try that!"

He followed her gaze. Brother Hugh saw him and waved him over to the table. Well, he couldn't argue with Hawke's words, he had never snorted Lyrium dust from the breasts of a prosti... postri... prostiwhore either. The pervasive scent of the drug was almost impossible to ignore.

"The question, gentlemages, is one of liquor. You asked for guidance: this is my reply. He says, when tipsy, he would trash and fireball the place. Let's make him tipsy, gentlemages, and … try!"

"As Andraste said … alcohol is … uh, thou shalt not … hey, one more drink for the Templar!"

"Uhh, I think that's your armour, Knight-Captain …"

"And who's going to pay the bill, huh?"

"Oh, let me! I've almost discovered the secret of making gold from dirt! Just one more drink …"

"What a big sword you have, Ser Paxley …"

Cullen woke up with his head caught between a pair of millstones mercilessly grinding his brain into dust. His bowels were turning like a ship thrown about by stormy sea, and he felt the discreet need to empty his stomach. Andraste's grace, what had happened? He remembered only vague scenes of debauchery. A night out with the lads? But there had been mages involved (he sniffed – the distinct stench of a fire seemed to confirm his suspicions). Had he … oh, Maker, he had, hadn't he? He still felt the effects of the Lyrium, at least, even though he wasn't due for another dose for a few days. How was he going to explain that … A ray of sunlight fell in his eyes, sending sharp bursts of pain through his head. He groaned and turned around – only to find that he wasn't alone in the bed. There was another person sitting next to him – a woman, thank the Maker, and she was naked and awake.

What the hell had happened? He hadn't even been with a girl since taking his vows, how could he ever … his vision cleared up enough to make out her face.

Damn.

Bethany Hawke regarded him with expressionless amber eyes, her face an impenetrable mask he had thought reserved to her sister. What remained of Cullen's sense of self-worth rapidly dissipated under her gaze. Then, the repentant apostate said: "Let us never speak of this again," and he was all too happy to acquiesce.

At least on the provision that she lower her voice.

Orsino returned Meredith's glare. He wished this conversation took place in her office, with her seated and him standing instead of the other way around. "May I point out that Templars were also involved?," he snarled in a way that had nothing to do with "may". "If anything, they're just as responsible for this mess as my mages. It was your own captain who hit your cellarer over the head with the flat of his blade to gain entry to the wine cellar, and your men who brought them to the mainland!"

"My Templars did not set fire to the Hanged Man!," the Knight-Commander snapped back. "Nor was it my Templars who summoned and molested a Circle-aligned desire demon who has been helping us conduct the Harrowing for centuries, can you imagine how embarrassing it is to receive a sexual harassment complaint from the Fade?"

"Ah, yes," Orsino returned. He couldn't resist the urge to smirk. "Speaking of Harrowing, I understand that your men at one point nasally ingested Lyrium dust stolen from the Gallows vaults from the bare breasts of an under-age elven prostitute who had been told it would grant her magical powers."

To her credit, Meredith did not even twitch. "Well," she shot back, "but my apprentice fucked yours."

For a long moment they glared at each other.

Then, Meredith said, "I believe invoking the Right of Annulment is the only appropriate step?"

Orsino found it hard to disagree.