Chapter 2 - Chant Day


9:28 Dragon, Haring

Solona could never decide what part of Chant Day she hated the most. There were the bells, of course. She would probably find them more appealing had they not been set to ring five times over the course of the day, and beginning them at sunrise? Honestly, it all just seemed so excessive. The Maker was intelligent enough to understand how penitent someone was the first time, surely. Didn't the Maker turn his back on his people or something anyway? What's the point of praying to someone you know isn't going to listen?

As if that weren't irritating enough, Chant Day meant the chantry - and the floor that contained it - would be full of what was just an absolutely unreasonable number of templars. All day. Evidently beating each other to a pulp in the training yard wasn't enough; no, they also had to join hands with one another and wring out their self hatred together every week. What surprised her more was the number of mages who joined them. That was entirely baffling to her. Why someone gifted with magic would willingly sit through the Chant that all but called them cursed and afflicted was beyond her. Some people, she mused, just got off on self flagellation, probably.

She considered herself fortunate, at least, in that her own mentor was not one to force her to attend the Chants, unlike some of the unluckier apprentices she knew. Poor Neria, a latecomer to the Circle and so very Dalish, had attended every Chant day service with Enchanter Selvin at her heels since she first set foot through the main doors. She maintained good spirits about it, at least, although exactly how she managed that was anyone's guess. First Enchanter Irving, for the most part, gave her the freedom to choose how to spend her Chant Days, and for that she would be eternally grateful.

No, the absolute worst thing about Chant Day began roughly four months ago, when that pious hypocrite Ser Merryn began his rounds on the apprentice wing. "A learned child is a blessing unto the Maker," he'd say with that infuriating grin on his face while he "punished" children for minor infractions by making them kneel on the stone floor and read verses of the Chant until the candle stubs burned themselves out. She had actually tracked down an abridged copy of the Chant in the library and committed a handful of verses to memory for the sole purpose of harassing him after witnessing that, although now she occasionally wondered if it had been wise to step in at all.

"Those who bring harm without provocation to the least of His children, Ser," she had said to him one day in a conversational tone while eying the boy crying on the floor, "are hated and accursed by the Maker, are they not?" The statement had caught him off guard, as had she when she claimed the boy was wanted by the First Enchanter and led him out of Merryn's sight. She had filed a formal complaint with Irving later, of course, and Merryn was quickly reassigned to the commons floor, but that only meant that going anywhere outside of the apprentice wing meant passing by his insufferable face. And insufferable he had become, especially when he learned the pretty apprentice with the uppity mouth had to pass by the Chantry at the midday prayer bell on Chant Days to get to the alchemy lab for one of her biweekly service shifts. Maker, who had she wronged in a past life to deserve this?

"Hear they're bringing in new blood from the Order today, Amell," he said to her this time, stepping in front of her as she rounded the corner past the chantry doors. "Should we take bets on how quickly you'll run up and spread your legs for them?"

"Kindly fuck off, Ser Merryn," she hissed, sidestepping around him. The rumor was an old one, and to this day she had no idea which idiot had started it. She did have a bit of a reputation among the older apprentices, one she wore with an almost taunting sense of pride, but a templar? A girl had needs, yes, but Maker's balls, just how bloody stupid did these people think she was to just walk up to one and claim them? She'd slit her own throat first.

He cut her off and stepped in front of her again. "Do your mentors not teach you manners here, girl?"

"I thought we both agreed last week I was just a cheap Marcher whore. Do your expectations change so quickly, Ser?" She held his gaze with what she hoped was steel in her eyes, but she was tired. She was so tired.

Someone cleared his throat behind them. "What's going on here, apprentice?"

"A conversation between a lady and her protector, nothing more," she said breezily, turning around and storming past the newcomer with increasing annoyance. The alchemy lab could wait until Thursday. If one more of those fucking self righteous sword slingers bothered her today, she might actually earn herself an equally self righteous execution, and if Alchemist-Enchanter Ariban had an issue with that, then he could very well march down here and tell her himself.

"Is he bothering you?" That voice again, dripping with concern. Not that it mattered. They all faked it. Some worse than others, but at the end of the day they all ended up the same.

She stopped in her tracks and whirled around. "Excuse me?" Here it went. They never stepped in without a price, and now she would definitely be late to her shift. What would this one want? she wondered. Lyrium, probably, the bastards are mad for the stuff.

The young man in front of her ran a hand through his blonde hair and gave her a knowing look. "I asked if he was bothering you."

"No, I said-" She had barely gotten the words out before he turned his piercing gaze at Merryn.

What in the Void was he doing? "Ser, what is the meaning of this? The Chantry forbids such untoward conversation towards our charges; surely you know this."

Merryn laughed, but there was no humor in his voice. "Been here a day and you're already out to change the world, are you? Stand down, boy. You'll lose your sympathy for her kind soon enough."

"Be that as it may, I must insist you allow the lady to pass. I'm certain she has somewhere to be, and as you are already at your post for this rotation, I will gladly escort her to her destination myself."

Solona stiffened. They were so predictable. This was the part where they grabbed you by the arm and yanked you to some hidden corner to blackmail you into giving them favors. If you were lucky, it would be a bottle of lyrium or two. If you weren't, well. She glanced at Merryn and his misshapen nose and that creepy smile that never quite reached the eyes. Cheap Marcher whore indeed. Maker's balls, she was just too damn tired to fight it today. At least this one was good looking.


"Is he like this often?" It was only his first day in the Ferelden Circle, but Cullen wasn't an idiot. He knew a situation when he saw one. Disgusting men with their predatory advances were a ubiquitous thing across all of Thedas, it seemed. The apprentice he had been harassing, at least, seemed like someone who could take care of herself. He could tell by how she carried herself, the way she strode with purpose a few steps in front of him, staying just far enough into the center of the hallway to block him from stepping around her. The sight was … too familiar.

It shouldn't have been so surprising, really, to see this kind of behavior here. He'd seen a couple of trainers in Denerim thrown out of the Order for similar acts of vileness during his years as a recruit. What surprised him, and perhaps struck him with a distinct sense of unease, was just how familiar the girl seemed with what had transpired. I thought we both agreed last week I was just a cheap Marcher whore.

"Is this the part where you tell me to hand over some lyrium or suck your cock or something and you won't report me to the Knight Commander for … fuck, I don't know, whatever inane nug shit you people dream up around here?" She didn't even bother turning around to address him.

"Maker's breath, I … why would you … no, that isn't what I …" He cleared his throat again. "I am glad he did not lay his hands on you, my lady."

She snorted. "Your lady? So quickly? That has to be some sort of record."

"My apologies for causing offense. I truly mean you no harm." He sighed. "I meant it when I said I would escort you, and it has far less to do with my intentions for you as it does my mistrust of people like him."

She turned around then, piercing blue eyes regarding him with the wariness of a cornered animal. "Why?" It was a simple question, but the weight behind it only made the warning feeling in his chest grow tighter. Why wouldn't he? Why would any other decent person do any differently?

Cullen shrugged, trying to exude an ease he certainly didn't feel. "Men like him disgrace the Order and everything we stand for. It would have been careless and negligent of me to not intervene."

"Right." Her hair was falling out of a loose ponytail, unruly black waves of obsidian bouncing on her shoulders with every step as she resumed walking down the corridor. They walked together in uneasy silence until she reached the door to the tiny stairwell leading down into the alchemy labs. "Well." She patted the door handle. "This is my stop. I suppose this is where I thank you for … whatever it was you just did and we part ways and pretend this never happened?" He did his best not to gape at her when their eyes met. Her expression, which had been positively vitriolic earlier, had eased into a teasing smirk that made his stomach flutter and his mouth go dry. "I'll see you around, Ser Knight." She winked and disappeared behind the door.

What did just happen?

He tried to shake the entire exchange from his mind as he made his way back to the chantry. Canticles had just ended, and throngs of people were filing out from the chapel doors. He would be expected to take his evening post by the apprentice dormitories in a few hours. Dormitories she would be returning to later no doubt. The thought crept to the forefront of his mind before he even realized what was happening, until he caught himself smiling absently at the thought of seeing her again. No. No, no, no. This was inappropriate, he seethed silently. Inappropriate, untoward, and just plain wrong. And yet. She'd smiled at him. Well, sort of, anyway. I'll see you around, Ser Knight. What had she even meant by that? He didn't know how long he'd been standing there lost in thought until someone barked his name.

"Rutherford." He jumped. The stern lilt of Knight-Captain Jaylen sliced through his thoughts like a freshly sharpened blade. "My office."

The first day of his posting at Kinloch Hold was shaping up quite strangely, Cullen thought as he followed his superior through the halls. His mind wandered back to his years growing up in the Chantry, and more specifically, to his mischievous bunkmate with whom he'd shared a tiny dormitory room for the better part of five years. The image of Alistair's face at finding him - meticulous, dutiful, "infuriatingly rule-following-y" Cullen Rutherford - seated in the Knight-Captain's office not two thirds of the way through his first day was positively delightful. Part of him wondered how he'd already managed to start off on the wrong foot here, but he was finding that he, surprisingly, didn't mind as much as he once thought he would.

I'll see you around, Ser Knight. He fought the urge to smile again as he sat down.

"So." Jaylen eyed him from across the room, armored boots clanking softly against the tiles as she paced. She was an imposing woman, well over six feet tall and easily eye level with the Knight-Commander himself. She wore her brown hair cropped short on the top and shaved neatly across the sides. It was a soldier's haircut, one that only highlighted the severity reflected in her cheeks. Her face was all angles and sharp lines, and a jagged scar crossed the length of her jaw, coming to rest right before the soft spots on her neck. "A little bird told me you had a bit of a row with another one of our men today near the Chantry. I have my suspicions, but from the rumors that have been flying at me, I wanted to hear your version before I open that damnable piece of paper that will undoubtedly end up on my desk tomorrow morning."

Cullen gulped. "Rumors, Ser?" There it was, he thought grimly. There was that worry he was expecting when he first entered her office. So much for bravado.

The expression on Jaylen's face remained impassive. "Aye. Something about telling off a veteran knight, then walking off alone with the First Enchanter's apprentice in tow? Care to explain what that was about?"

A renewed sense of anger flooded him at that. And walking off alone with…Maker, did she say the First Enchanter's apprentice? What had he stepped in, he wondered. He fought to keep his own face neutral as he retold what had happened. Repeating Merryn's words made him feel like he needed to scrub some unseen layer of filth from his skin. You'll lose your sympathy for her kind soon enough. He considered telling her what the girl had told him on their way to the alchemy labs. Is this the part where you tell me to hand over some lyrium or suck your cock? He fought the urge to wince and kept the last part to himself.

"I see." Jaylen's face remained unreadable, and for a brief, agonizing moment she paused her pacing and frowned in silence. She sat down behind her desk, took out a quill, and began writing something down. "Who were you assigned this morning to oversee for individual mentorship?"

Cullen racked his brain. It had been a younger student. Bella? Beatriz? Briana, that was it. "Briana Sullivan. Year two, under Enchanter Tertio."

The quill never paused when Jaylen spoke again. "Consider her reassigned. You will meet the Amell girl and the First Enchanter in Training Hall A tomorrow morning during individual lessons."

Cullen sputtered. "What?"

Jaylen finally looked up from the stack of parchment on her desk. "I've heard good things about you, Rutherford. Merryn's an ass, and based on his record here I've got no reason to take his word over yours. The last unlucky bastard charged with overseeing Solona's training got himself killed in the last Harrowing, the girl's probably only got a few months before hers, and from what I hear, you're one of the few people we've taken on today who actually seems to give a damn about the mages' well being. She ends up getting assigned anyone less after the last one and the First Enchanter will have my head on a plate, no doubt." She pursed her lips and began writing again. "You got balls, standing up to Merryn like that. Good to see someone else who actually remembers what the Order's about."

"Oh. Um…thank you, Ser." Cullen blinked and tried not to stare. He'd expected some sort of admonishment for his insubordination, an assignment of penance at the least.

Jaylen snorted. "Try not to look so pleased, boy. You clearly haven't seen the girl in action. Got your work cut out for you more than you think." She sealed the parchment with the Order's sigil, then looked back up and frowned. "That's all," she said curtly, waving a hand at him. "Dismissed. Quit your gawking and find somewhere else to be." He didn't have to be told twice.