Author's Note: Part of this chapter was written over two years ago. When incorporating it in this new story, I discovered something that I immediately considered a logical fallacy. I refer to the fact of mage phylacteries being sent to Denerim after they pass the Harrowing. I could not for the life of me remember if that was my idea or was that a fact from the game. It seems dumb - what if a mage escapes, they need to make all that way to Denerim, get the phylactery and then chase the apostate down. That's a lot of time lost there. Besides, in the Asunder novel, it's quite plainly stated that in the Circle of Val Royeaux, they keep the mage phylacteries inside the Tower. Why would they do things differently in Ferelden? It made no sense, so I started to rewrite this part.
Then I decided to double check and created a new character to play through the mage origin story. And what do you know... after you complete your Harrowing, Irving tells you that your phylactery has been shipped to Denerim... oh well, go figure! Glad I didn't rewrite it after all. :P
Chapter 2
Kinloch Hold, Ferelden, Twenty-two Years Prior
"If you would only listen to what I am trying to say, Greagoir…"
"No! I will hear no more of this! I have made myself quite clear on the matter, and I expect you mages to fall in line and do as the Chantry bids, this is not negotiable! Enough! I want the names of those responsible on my desk tomorrow morning, or the Circle will face some additional restrictions!"
Maythre watched the heavily armored templar commander storm down the hallway of the Circle Tower, after another heated argument with First Enchanter had left old Irving shaking his head and looking desperate. The little brown-eyed elf girl tugged on the First Enchanter's robes, trying to shift Irving's attention away from his row with Greagoir and back to her.
"First Enchanter? First Enchanter?" Maythre looked up at the kind old man who had been her mentor for the first year she had spent in the Circle Tower. "I don't understand. Why do we mages let the bad men of the Chantry treat us like their servants? Greagoir should not be allowed to yell at you like that, when you have enough power to blast him on the spot. I think that the Circle has enough power to destroy the Chantry and the templars easily."
Irving gave her a measuring look before sighing and replying. "Greagoir is not a bad man, Maythre..." the young girl looked like she very much disagreed. Irving had rarely seen a child this opinionated and headstrong at the tender age of seven. She also had none of the timid meekness and subservience that all the other young elven apprentices tended to display. Maythre, from the moment she was brought in, a survivor in a skirmish between a stray group of Dalish and hunters of one of the south-western bannorns of Ferelden, displayed fierce pride and independence, unlike the 'tamed' alienage elves, and young Maythre's contempt for her city kin was always plain to see.
"Listen to me now child, and listen to me carefully," he leaned down closer to her. "It is precisely because of what you say that we must allow the Chantry to govern us. It is because we have so much power that we could destroy us all. Remember this well, and never forget it."
The girl looked a little confused and not entirely convinced at his words. It was not the first time that he wondered if her fiery character and at times deviant opinions would not cause problems in the long run. This was one reason why he had decided to tutor the young elf himself, because he saw the tremendous potential in her, far greater than in any of his other apprentices, and because he recognized the danger if her potential got out of hand. But... she was only an innocent child still, there was plenty of time to mould and even out her character, plenty of time to make her into a proud, loyal servant of the Circle...
Lake Calenhad Approach, Ferelden, Present Day
It was several weeks since Cauthrien had asked her that simple, yet fateful question that had shaken Queen Maythre more than it ought to have. "Ferelden is firmly in our control now," her trusted general had said. "What comes next?"
Maythre had been taken completely aback by this question, only able to stammer something evasive in reply, and fortunately Cauthrien hadn't picked up on her confusion. The truth was simple, and it would have shocked Cauthrien if she only knew. The truth was that Maythre had absolutely no idea, no plans for what she was supposed to do next.
Was she supposed to simply hold Ferelden under her iron grasp? Or was she supposed to look at the neighboring Orlais, ripe with rumors of unrest and civil war and perhaps plan a swift invasion to seize a good chunk of their lands?
All her life up to this point, Maythre remembered having a very clear goal, even as the little girl from the tales she had shared with Cauthrien. Everything she had done, had been to grab more and more power, seize the throne of Ferelden, overthrow the Chantry and purge land of the Maker's hypocrisy. Now it had all been achieved, and she felt lost, stranded like fish ashore, almost as if waiting for someone to tell her what to do, where to strike next.
I wish I knew why I feel this way. I made these plans to rule Ferelden as its Queen, I should not have any difficulties in coming up with ideas on how to proceed, she thought at herself desperately, an unpleasant feeling at the pit of her stomach as her mind wandered towards more disturbing possibilities. Nobody put me up to do all of this! Nobody! It was me all along! My plans, my ideas! She shouted inside her own head, trying to quell the mad speculations plaguing her for many days now.
"Are you alright, my Queen?" Cauthrien's voice broke through her jumbled thoughts, and it was only then that Maythre realized she had released the reins of her horse and was holding her head in her hands. She quickly grabbed the reins again, pulling her white mare back alongside Cauthrien's dark steed on the cobbled path of the Imperial Highway.
"Unpleasant spiking headache," she lied quickly. Something isn't right here. Something isn't right with me. But I will get to the bottom of it. That was one reason why she had decided to travel to the old Circle Tower. The place where it all started. Maybe returning there will give me some long sought answers.
The other reason was Cauthrien's annoying insistence to know where all the wealth of Ferelden was coming from. The Circle Tower would provide her with that answer as well. After that, there would be only two options for Cauthrien; she would either be dead or her loyalty would be further reinforced. Perhaps that is why I feel like sharing my past with her. One way or another, she will never be able to harm me. And after Zevran's death... I have this irrational need to have at least someone close and following me by their own choosing, not compelled by my blood magic. I hope Cauthrien's reaction will not disappoint me.
"We could stop while it passes," Cauthrien suggested, looking a little concerned. "We are not in a hurry."
"Truly, it is not necessary," Maythre smiled in reply. "Perhaps talking might help. Yes, I feel that it would."
"Very well... in that case, I have a question for you, my Queen," Cauthrien said, encouraged by her friendly invitation. "We heard about mages trying to escape the Circle all the time. Most of them unsuccessfully, never even making outside or quickly hunted down by templars. Did you ever try to escape?"
Maythre chuckled before replying. "That reminds me of old, foolish Anders. How many times did he try to escape, six, seven? He never got very far, of course, not with the templars having his phylactery, but I suspect it was all a game to him. A dangerous game that I was not willing to play. After a few more escape attempts, the templars might have just decided not to bring him back but to execute him after tracking him down again."
"As for me..." she continued a while later. "Of course I started to plan for the eventual escape as soon as I discovered all the details about the phylacteries. I realized that escaping while the templars still had my phylactery would be foolish. I needed to make sure that they had no means with which to track me down."
"How did you plan to ensure that?" Cauthrien asked.
"I wasn't certain at the time, but then something happened, a fortunate occurrence that would give me an idea," Maythre looked thoughtful as she replied, delving deep into her memories. "Let me see... the evening was getting late, and I was in the First Enchanter Irving's study, practicing the Mind Blast spell under his supervision, when he received an all too familiar visitor..."
Kinloch Hold, Ferelden, Twenty Years Prior
"Irving! I need your assistance immediately!" Knight-Commander Greagoir spoke impatiently, barging into First Enchanter's study without any warning. "Niall completed his Harrowing good while ago, and we have not yet sent the phylactery to Denerim, it is about time we do that. You know that I need you to enter the vault," he added, having faced Irving's disapproving stare.
"Can't it wait?" the First Enchanter replied, his spell broken off with Greagoir's sudden appearance. "We are in the middle of a lesson here, I don't want to leave my apprentice right now."
"Bah! I don't have time for this," Greagoir frowned. "If you can't leave her with someone, then just take her along and continue your lessons afterwards!"
"But taking apprentices to the phylactery vault is against regulations, you know that," Irving looked surprised that Greagoir would even suggest something like that.
"She's just a child, what is she going to do? Tomorrow she won't even remember being down there," Greagoir waved him off dismissively. "I need that phylactery sent tonight or I will have some explaining to do, so could we simply get it over with?"
"Very well," Irving said, taking Maythre by the hand. "Come with me child, and don't be afraid. We shall take a little walk to the basement."
Maythre struggled hard to suppress her curiosity and avoid bursting out in questions, as that would probably have led to Irving sending her to Wynne or Sweeney to look after her, until he and Greagoir conducted their business. This would have been most undesirable. For a good while she had wondered what secrets were hiding behind the heavy locked door leading below the ground level of the tower. She had been able to sneak a peek inside a few times, but it hadn't revealed more than a dark hallway and equally heavy set of doors further ahead.
Of course, by now Greagoir had already mentioned a vault and phylacteries. It made sense to her, of course they had to be hidden somewhere safe in the Tower. Now she would find out where.
The first door yielded after Greagoir had recited a quick verse, likely something from his much treasured Chant of Light, after which Irving cast a simple cantrip at the doors, thus opening them. This was strange, because she recognized the spell and its purpose had nothing to do with opening locks. Maythre kept quiet and continued to study the massive door, trying to learn as much as she could about the wards designed to keep it shut.
Another gate stood in their way after that, this one also primed by a password that Greagoir spoke with undeserved pride of a Chantry tool. More interestingly, this time Irving did not assist with any spells, for this door was covered with several conventional locks, and both Greagoir and Irving retrieved chains with a pair of silver keys on them, using those to get past the final barrier.
Inside was a giant storeroom with countless desks and shelves. Menacing statues of stone guardians overlooked their passage through this magical place. The air down here was cold and dry, perhaps maintained so to keep the phylacteries in correct condition. And speaking of phylacteries, there were quite a few of them, at least three large shelves dedicated only for storage of these fragile crystals. Was there three, four dozen of them? Maythre had at first expected there to be even more, but of course, these were only phylacteries of the apprentices and there probably were not more than fifty of them at the Tower at this time.
While Irving searched the shelves for the phylactery of this Niall, Maythre tried to take in as many sights as she possibly could, trying to make most of her chance of seeing the rarely mentioned vault of the Tower. She made an effort to spot where in the shelves was her phylactery, but then with the corner of her eye, she noticed Greagoir watching her with a piercing stare and that forced her to break off her searching and instead pretend to be studying the less interesting floor tiles, before slowly turning towards Greagoir, an innocent look and then a slowly blossoming broad smile.
The templar was unable to hold her stare, so he just harrumphed something under his breath and walked over to Irving to harass the old mage into finding Niall's phylactery as quickly as possible. This gave Maythre some much needed time. There was plenty of wonder to see and learn about here, but she was clear in her mind on what she needed to focus on. It was those massive doors leading into the Vault and the wards preventing entry.
Because, even if she wasn't yet entirely sure why, she simply knew that she needed to be able to return to this place.
Lake Calenhad Approach, Ferelden, Present Day
"That's when you started forming a serious plan to escape the Tower?" Cauthrien asked, after the Queen had finished her tale.
"You could say that," Maythre nodded. "I had been thinking about it before, but that was the day when idle musings turned into solid ideas. I finally knew what I needed to do in order to be able to escape at the right moment."
"Let me guess... you tried to break into the vault and get to your phylactery," Cauthrien ventured.
"Oh, I would never have attempted something like that without plenty of preparations," Maythre laughed, shaking her head. "Besides, remember the door mechanisms that I described to you. Something like 'breaking in' would have never worked. No, to get inside, I would need to employ the one and only powerful tool in my possession. My magic."
Cauthrien did not say anything, so Maythre continued a while later. "I was certain that all the locks, all the wards on those doors could be countered and then resealed with the right spell. But it was not something that I could simply read about in the books and then use it. I needed time to study those protections and then design something unique that could neutralize them. Such work would take very long time, Cauthrien."
"Are we talking weeks or months here?" the general asked.
Maythre let out a brief chortle, before giving Cauthrien an amused stare. "Try years, my dear Cauthrien. Eight long years to be more precise."
Cauthrien looked shocked at that. "Eight years?" she repeated, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't imagine how finally making that breakthrough would have felt. You must have been exhilarated, eager to put it to use and finally be out of that cursed place."
"I was pleased, yes, but I could not use that knowledge immediately," Maythre replied, remembering how it had felt to make that decision. Success had never tasted as bittersweet as then. "In fact, I had to put all my research aside for several years before I could make the attempt."
"But why? Why couldn't you just go in there, smash your phylactery and escape? Why wait? You would have still stood a much better chance at success than all the other escapees with their phylacteries intact!"
"It was too risky," Maythre shook her head. "I realized that I was too young and lacked the survival skills to last on my own long enough to reach the Dalish. Not that I could be certain they would welcome me. And more importantly, I felt that I had not learned everything that I could from the Circle, its senior mages and the wisdom of its libraries. I wanted to consume all of its knowledge, absorb all the power from the yellowing pages of dusty tomes, before I left it forever."
"Such restraint and patience when freedom was at your fingertips," Cauthrien's voice was full of awe. "But did you finally await that moment to stage your escape?"
"I always knew that I would have to make that attempt shortly after my Harrowing. A ritual where a young and unprepared mage is thrown into the Fade at the mercy of demons to prove themselves," Maythre explained, not bothering to hide the deep hatred in her voice. "I would succeed easily, of course, and become a full fledged mage. Once that was done, my phylactery would be removed from the Circle vaults and sent to Denerim, to be stored safely in the basements of the Chantry. I would need to make a move before my phylactery was transported away."
"There was also another possibility, and it was to gain the trust of the senior mages. They left the Circle Tower ever so often on various business, and occasionally took a delighted apprentice with them. Imagine if Irving or Torrin, my tutor during my later years at the Circle, would have taken me with them to say, Val Royeaux or Cumberland," Maythre said. "On the eve of our departure, I would have entered the vault and smashed my phylactery to bits. When I was far away from the Circle Tower and preferably Ferelden itself, I would have made my escape. They would have never been able to track me down then."
Cauthrien nodded, appearing impressed. "I have to admit that is sound thinking," she said. "But I take it that you never got to put that plan in motion."
"No, I didn't," Maythre's face darkened. "I'm not sure I could have ever made it work, unless I somehow got rid of Wynne. Irving, Torrin, Leorah, Sweeney, they all adored me, but not that old biddy, always spying on me, suspicious witch."
"Why would she do that?" Cauthrien asked.
"Wynne's specialty was the Creation school of magic. Her lectures always put me to sleep, being too boring, and I grew careless and misspoke part of an incantation." Cauthrien only blinked at her, clearly not realizing the meaning of her words. "The phrase I spoke wrongly was part of a blood magic spell. Damn it, Wynne wasn't even supposed to know what it was!" she felt her fists clench at the memory. "Yet, somehow she recognized that it was blood magic related. She ran to Irving right after that lecture. I was lucky that Irving chose to believe my story that I had simply misspoken, but I could tell that Wynne never truly believed that explanation."
"You were already dabbling in blood magic at that time?" there was a slight tremor in Cauthrien's voice as she asked the question, herself once a victim of Maythre's dark magic.
"I had never cast a blood magic spell," Maythre said. "But I already knew at least two dozen of them. During my stay at the Circle, I did not form many friendships or mingle with the other apprentices. What free time I had was all spent on either cracking those wards on the vault doors or reading, one tome after another. I think I came close to consuming half of that massive library over those sixteen years."
"But surely they did not keep tomes on blood magic on those shelves," Cauthrien spoke.
"That is true. However, there were countless subtle allusions to blood magic in the texts approved as safe for us, impressionable apprentices. It was quite remarkable how often I found passages that dozen others had read without picking up on these hints. When untangled and combined, I could have put together several large tomes on blood magic from all that!"
"So what did you do when it became apparent that winning the trust of all the senior enchanters would be impossible?" Cauthrien asked. "Did you simply wait for your Harrowing?"
The Queen nodded slowly. "I also considered arranging an accident for Wynne. However, it never came to that as another unexpected and welcomed opportunity presented itself." As Cauthrien looked at her with great interest, however, Maythre raised her hand and pointed at the distance westwards. "But look, we have arrived!"
Through the opening in the pine forest, they could see the beautiful cold deep blue waters of Lake Calenhad spreading to their right, an outline of the Circle Tower just barely visible in the mist some distance from the shore. "And would you know, The Spoiled Princess is still standing," Maythre pointed at a large wooden log building near the shore. "It is getting late. Why don't we secure rooms for the night, and make the trip to the tower tomorrow?" Cauthrien only nodded in acceptance. "Patience, you will have your answers, Cauthrien. And this way, I will also be able to finish my tale..."