The massive doors clanged shut with a loud boom.
A plain faced woman with dark hair and darker eyes, dressed in subdued robes the color of doves under a midnight blue cloak, stared at the now closed entrance. Behind her, other mages streamed in the direction of the boats waiting at the dock. Boats. As in plural. Big ones too. Not Kester's leaking tub that could barely fit Kester and a handful of passengers. A tub that often threatened to capsize with just Kester and two passengers. She shuddered and turned away from the sight of the grim, yet eager mages who willingly boarded the floating deathtraps.
No, that wasn't fair. The boats themselves weren't actually deathtraps, but they were the first step to something that would likely see a large number of them dead at the end. Yet they were happy to go.
Huddling in front of what had been her home for the past seven years, Vanessa Amell desperately wished they would let her go back inside. There was still so much to be done now that they finally cleared out the last of the demons and abominations. Only they were told to drop everything to go to war against darkspawn. Filthy, disgusting creatures. And there were confirmed reports of an archdemon. An archdemon. Sweet Andraste, they were to go face a twisted abomination of a god and its army of horrors.
And the others were happy to be leaving? She'd always suspected most of her fellow mages were insane, this just proved it.
"What's this now?" A man's voice rasped behind her.
She didn't have to turn around to know that it was Irving, which made her feel like a heel on top of her horror of being outside, since he had far more important things to be dealing with than one twitchy mage. Wonderful. She turned around to face the man and her heart sank at seeing Greagoir standing with him. Even more wonderful. She swallowed and said hesitantly, "First Enchanter, Knight-Commander."
For once the Knight-Commander wasn't glowering. If anything he looked concerned, that made her feel even worse. His question proved her right, "Is everything all right, Enchanter Amell?"
Vanessa shivered in the breeze that blew over the cold lake and lanced right through her heavy cloak, and she wondered where her usual bravado had gone. Right, it was left behind in the Tower, which is where she should have been. She'd come to the Tower later than most at the age of 13, so she remembered what life was like quite well outside of Kinloch Hold. She didn't want to go back to it. She liked the comforting solidity of the thick, stone walls. That meals were made by someone not her, food that was fresh and good quality. Cleaning clothing whenever she needed it, a bed free of vermin. A bed all of her own. The others complained about lack of privacy, but when you grew up in a hovel with your mother and numerous siblings, having to share a room with one or two other people really wasn't much to complain about.
Let the others complain about being penned up, she knew she had it good in the Circle.
Realizing that the two men were waiting on her response, she gathered her cloak about her along with her wits. Only what came out was the truth, not a clever reply that she was well known for, "I-I don't know."
Greagoir murmured something to Irving who looked at his old rival and friend before nodding and shuffling away to return to overseeing the last of the mages and supplies being loaded. Most would have been terrified at being left alone with the templar, but he'd never been horrible to her.
Stern? Yes. Overbearing? Absolutely. And more than a little pompous. But she never had to worry about him getting drunk and raising his hand to her because the drink made him mean the way it did her mother's customers. The few times one of the templars had tried to take advantage of her, he'd dropped like a pile of bricks on the templar, not her. Yet, she'd never seen this particular expression on his craggy face.
In a surprisingly gentle voice he said, "Let us take a walk and we can discuss the situation."
Vanessa glanced over at the man all the mages called "Old Stoneface" when out of earshot of any templars, or Irving. It seemed he flashed her a brief smile, which was impossible because otherwise his face would've shattered. She nodded and fell in beside him, using his armored bulk to shield her from the bitter wind. He didn't say anything for a moment, and she was too churned up to imitate what was likely to be a horribly awkward chat.
"Amell, I could try to explain how much your ability to create mass destruction will be greatly needed, and your healing spells will be needed even more, but I won't insult us both."
ThanktheMakerforsmallfavors, she thought to herself. Outwardly she just nodded, "Thank you, ser."
He cast a thoughtful look her way, "Ser is it? I don't think I've heard that particular word out of you in a very long time."
She bit her lip and looked away, cheeks bright from her embarrassed flush. It wasn't that she was ever rude to the man, no mage in their right mind would be rude to a Knight Commander, but it was true that she rarely called him ser. Then again, she rarely called anyone ser. It was always by their title or name. Ser conjured up too many memories best left alone.
Then he did smile, albeit a small one, and his face didn't crack. So miracles were possible after all. "There is one thing that you should remember, Vanessa."
"And that is?"
"We may be going to Denerim to support the Wardens in their battle against the darkspawn, but you aren't returning there permanently. Your home will always be with the Circle."
Her throat closed up with unshed tears at the comment, but she managed to croak out, "Thank you, Knight Commander."
Another small smile that quickly faded as shouting started in the distance. He looked over her head and swore, "Maker's breath, they can't even get on a boat without squabbling."
Curious, Vanessa craned her head and tried not to smirk. Collin and Tallin, a fractious set of elven twin brothers, were at it again. And this time it looked like they were dragging in bystanders in their seemingly endless brotherly squabbling. The sight brought a small smile to her face as the Knight-Commander stomped his way over to settle them down. Odd how such things could be reassuring.
Still smiling, Vanessa made her careful way to the waiting ships and whatever destiny lay in store for her. It would be in the company of those that had become her true family. More importantly, she could always come back home. Strange that such reassurance could come from a man like the Knight-Commander. Not that she'd ever tell anyone, no one would ever believe her.
"What're you smilin' about?" Barden asked sourly. She paused to look at the bald templar that was unusually grumpy looking.
"I was reminded that sometimes you can come home."
He stared at her, then shook his head muttering at her back, "Mages."