The Templars, Cullen and Adair, escorted Ilaria to Knight-Commander Greagoir's office on the ground floor of the Circle Tower. Her hope of being given the opportunity to clean up first was quickly dashed. Though, in all honesty, it was wishful thinking at best. These Ferelden Templars were nothing like those in Tevinter. The Tevinter Templars were cautious around mages but treated them with a great deal of respect. Ilaria was beginning to wonder why she thought she might even be given a hint of that respect in a nation whose primary faith taught that mages should be unwillingly locked in a tower because of an accident of birth.
Greagoir's office was utilitarian, to say the least. There was a large, solid wooden desk in the center of the room, a few chairs and a bookshelf. The only decorations visible was the Templar coat-of-arms hanging over the mantle and a figurine of Andraste on a small table in the corner. It smelled of wood smoke and metal polish. The fire burned high, chasing out the winter chill. As Ilaria entered, she observed two aged men deep in discussion. They turned to face her as she entered.
"Greetings, young lady. I am the First Enchanter, Irving. This is Knight Commander Greagoir." Ilaria observed that Irving, though having the physical appearance of frailty, was surrounded by an intensely powerful magical aura. His eyes were cunning but gentle and she got the impression that he was a reasonable man. The Knight-Commander looked to be almost Irving's age but still appeared at a physical peak: back straight, shoulders squared. He stared her down with a wary look. She knew that some Templars were able to get a sense of a mages capabilities and the way he was watching her gave her the feeling that he was using the abilities at his disposal to reason her out.
"Please, have a seat. The Knight-Commander and I would just like to ask you a few questions," Irving explained. Ilaria glanced at Greagoir with cautious uncertainty before following Irving to a few chairs placed close to the fire. Cullen and Adair took up guard just inside the doorway.
"Tell me, child, what brings you to Ferelden?" Irving questioned after they sat. Greagoir remained standing at the First Enchanter's shoulder.
"I have been travelling for a while. I wished to return to my studies. Ferelden was simply where I came to this decision," she responded softly.
"Can I ask why you left Tevinter in the first place? You had to know that mages outside of Tevinter have fewer... luxuries than those within." Irving's gaze was steady and calm though Ilaria noticed Greagoir tense slightly. It appeared he had caught the same implication that she had. Mages in the Circle had fewer freedoms.
She remained silent for a moment. Keeping secrets at this point would more likely cause her injury than do her any good. She took a fortifying breath before continuing. "My father was a Tevinter Magister. He was killed several years ago by another Magister. When I learned who killed my father, I felt concern for my life. I left before I shared his fate."
Greagoir spoke for the first time. "And where have you been in the interim?"
Ilaria met his gaze and was struck by the sudden realization that fearing this man would not help her if she were to stay here. She raised her chin and squared her shoulders before responding. "I left Minrathous on a merchant ship. We sailed to Rivain. The ship's captain introduced me to the master of a travelling faire. I spent the last two years travelling with them, performing. I presented my papers before beginning."
"Yes, about your Papers," Greagoir retorted, his tone rife with overtones of distrust, "we are having them verified. I'm sure that won't be a problem."
Ilaria kept her tone polite but by forcing back the biting response bubbling behind her lips. "No, it won't. I'm quite confident you'll find everything included to show my right to travel Thedas."
"What, exactly, were you hoping to do here, child?" Irving pulled the conversation back.
"I would like to continue practicing my current skills and study healing. I am quite practiced in other schools of magic but healing is not something that I was given opportunity to learn much of. After spending sometime in the world, I feel that a healer's skill would be the most... practical."
"Tell me, please, what skills do you possess? Which magics are you most proficient in?" the mage queried.
"My strongest skills are currently in Primal and Spirit magics. My father also had me trained in Force magic. I haven't mastered it yet. I have been trained, at least minimally, in other areas but have either shown ineptitude or lack of interest in them."
"And what about Blood magic?" Greagoir pressed.
Ilaria looked him in the eye when she spoke, hoping he'd believe the truth. "Blood magic is forbidden in the Imperium, just as it is here. And I have no desire to bargain with demons." Her voice had taken on a hard edge.
There were several moments of poignant silence before Irving spoke and Ilaria broke eye contact with the Knight-Commander. "Cullen, would you, please, fetch Neria Solona." Cullen bowed slightly before exiting the room. "Now, Ilaria, Solona is a skilled apprentice. I'll have her take you to get cleaned up while Greagoir and I discuss where you will best fit among us. We'll provide you with a robe for the time being and I'll have your things brought to my office. Do you have any questions for me?"
"No, First Enchanter, thank you." Ilaria felt relieved. At least she was going to get to bathe. She had only been fantasizing about the simple pleasures of a bath when Cullen returned with a young woman. She was elven with pale blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun at the back of her head. Her eyes were large; the irises an impossible light violet. Her skin was a golden tan color that made it seem as though she radiated a soft warm light. Her lips carried a soft smile and her eyes were open and curious.
"Ah, Neria," Irving began, "this is Ilaria. She's a Tevinter mage who will be staying with us for a time. Could you, please, take her up to the guest quarters so that she can bathe?"
Ilaria watched Neria silently examine her before responding. "Of course, First Enchanter. Will there be anything else?" Her voice was high and soft. It reminded Ilaria of chimes in the breeze.
"I'm afraid you'll have to find some robes for her. Owain may have some available in the store room. I'll have the kitchen send something up for dinner." Irving lead Ilaria to the door. "Please, remain in your quarters for the time being," he requested of her. "We'll speak again soon, child." She nodded and she and Neria bid farewell to the First Enchanter.
Neria set off down the hallway at a brisk pace. Ilaria caught up and matched her stride. There were several moments of awkward silence before Ilaria spoke.
"I'm sorry if I have interrupted your day," she began.
Neria blushed slightly and replied, "It is no bother."
Ilaria waited for her to continue and when the other mage didn't she fell into an exhausted silence. She was too tired and hungry to attempt a forced conversation. She remained this way until they reached the library. As she walked over the threshold, the scent of parchment, candle wax and a spicy scent she knew to be remnants of magic filled her nose. She paused, eyes closed, and inhaled deeply. Images of her father, the library in their manor in Tevinter and endless hours spent training rushed to her mind. It had been years since she'd been in a library and she'd missed the quiet comfort of the tomes and their knowledge.
"Are you alright?" Neria's soft voice interrupted her. Her eyes showed concern.
Ilaria snapped back to the present. "I'm sorry. I'm just tired and... that smell..." Neria gazed at her questioningly. "The tomes. I haven't been in a library for a long time and I didn't realize how much I... missed it." Her eyes became distant again for a moment. "Please, let's continue. I haven't been able to clean up for days."
Neria smiled and continued on. As they made their way through the tower, she pointed out things of interest to Ilaria, occasionally filling in some small piece of gossip. Ilaria found herself warming to the small elf. She was shy but seemed warm and willing to open up.
When they reached the guest quarters, Neria helped Ilaria to prepare a bath and then left to find some robes. Upon her return, she helped to wash Ilaria's thick, dark auburn hair and offered to brush it out after the bath. They chatted amicably and when dinner arrived they continued while they ate.
Eventually Ilaria's curiosity encouraged her to ask about Anders. "I met a young man, in the dungeon, when they brought me in. He said his name was Anders..."
Neria interrupted her. "Oh, Anders... He's been down there for about three months. The first two of those were spent in solitary."
This seemed to denote a dangerous individual. That was not the impression Ilaria had received when she spoke to him. "What did he do to deserve that?"
Neria seemed mildly amused. "Oh, he escaped again... for the fifth time."
Ilaria was shocked. "Fifth?" Her experience with templars was limited but she knew enough of them to be surprised that Anders hadn't suffered greater punishment than imprisonment. Though she was loathe to think it, she would have expected tranquility by now.
Neria giggled. "Yes, fifth. Anders is quite good at getting out of the Tower, just not so good at staying out. He's rarely ever gone for more than a few weeks. The First Enchanter keeps stepping in to prevent him from severe punishment. He doesn't seem to think Anders is dangerous. Just... free spirited." A strand of soft hair fell out of her bun as Neria gently shook her head. She sobered. "One of these days Greagoir is going to override Irving's decision. Then Anders will be dead... or... tranquil." She shuddered on the final word.
The Tevinter Imperium didn't have Tranquil. If a mage was deemed to be too dangerous, they were killed but that happened rarely. Ilaria had seen a few Tranquil on her journeys. She had always found them disturbing without truly understanding why. When she had been told what Tranquility really meant, that a mage was completely cut off from the Fade removing their emotions, she felt sick. No one should be forced to lose so much of what made them who they were.
A rap on the door drew the two young women out of their silent reverie. After a slight pause, Cullen entered the room. He met two pairs of bright eyes and blushed slightly. "Forgive my interruption," he said to Ilaria. "The First Enchanter asked me to fetch you." He turned to Neria and his blush seemed to deepen. "I was to... ah... tell you to return to your... um... lessons."
"Thank you, Cullen," Neria responded softly before brushing past him out the door, her cheeks an endearing shade of pink. Ilaria joined the awkward templar at the door and followed him back toward Greagoir's office.
Greagoir and Irving began their discussion the moment the door closed behind Ilaria.
"Hmm... An interesting young woman. I would like to test her abilities as soon as she is ready." Irving was already deep in thought, musing the possibilities of working with a strong apprentice.
Greagoir sneered. "If she is to remain in the Tower, she is to be Harrowed immediately."
Irving turned to his respected counterpart. "Come now, Greagoir. We do not even know if the girl would be prepared to take on the rigors of the Harrowing. Allow me to test her abilities and then we shall decided if offering her the opportunity to stay is worth undergoing the Harrowing."
"Very well. I will allow the Harrowing to wait on the condition that she be tested first thing tomorrow. However, if she does not wish to be Harrowed, she will be escorted back to the Tevinter Imperium's borders by a contingent of Templars."
Thank you, Greagoir. I'd also like to discuss Anders release with you."
"Irving, we have been over this before. I know you do not believe him to be a danger but the fact stands that he has repeatedly broken Chantry Law. If it was any other mage, he would have been executed or been forced to submit to Tranquility. He shall remain where he is for the time being." Greagoir's tone was stern and carried a note of finality.
"He is a proficient healer. It is possible that having an apprentice could provide him with the motivation he needs to remain within the Tower's walls."
"An apprentice? I was not aware that there were any apprentice's still in need of a mentor who were interested in healing. Has someone... Oh, no. No! I will not allow it! What better way to encourage Anders to run off again than to provide him with someone who will fill his head with stories of limitless freedoms for mages." The Knight-Commander had begun pacing before the hearth. Irving idly wondered if there was a visible worn spot there from the hours Greagoir had marched there over the years.
"Anders is never actually hiding when your Templars find him and he has never resisted being returned. He's remained cool headed regardless of the abuses pressed upon him. He has been imprisoned long enough. Let us give him the opportunity to show that he could be a good teacher. Perhaps he will find a calling in it."
Greagoir's jaw clenched and the muscles in his jaw flexed. Irving knew the look on his face to be a look of concession.
"Very well. If the girl is properly tested and succeeds with a Harrowing then we will offer Anders as a mentor so that she may study healing. But I warn you, Irving, if Anders flees the Tower again, I will not be so lenient. He will spend no less than an year in solitary if he is even awarded that consideration."
"Thank you, Greagoir. I shall begin making preparations immediately." Irving smiled to himself as he headed toward his office. The next few days would prove interesting indeed.