The Grand Conclave
9:41:2, Thursday, Dragon
The chiffon drape trails behind me like a lilac spirit treading in my wake. The sheer folds, silhouetting a set of slender legs. I float my way over to Baron Risha, leader of the nutmeg monopoly, and notorious slave driver. I lean against the wall, mango sati in hand. I catch his wandering eye with my own steely gaze. He smiles, engorged face and all, disgustingly arrogant, his double chin magnified. I smile, slyly, and, after a pause, proceed to walk towards the private chambers of his mansion in a slow tantalizing gait. I hear hurried footsteps behind me, trying to catch up. The bait has been cast. I open the door adjacent to me. An empty room in the private quarters. A fire is burning in the hearth. There are no windows. Perfect. I enter, leaving the door open behind me as I begin to unwrap the veil from my face. I hear wheezing and gasping behind me as a shadow obscures the light from the hallway. The door closes as I remove the sapphire drops from my ears. No words are exchanged. He thinks that I am hired entertainment. That, or a servant on break. Rookie mistake. I hear his panting from behind. I smell his musty stench and the wine on his breath. I gag, eyes screwing shut as my head begins to hurt. His grubby fingers with rings too small are on my hips, feeling the skin around my navel. I grimace, swallowing the urge to retch. My knife in my tefi is buried in the folds of fabric, unable to be freed. I fidget, trying to unwrap the folds of silk to allow me to draw my knife. I feel his oily stubble on the crook of my neck, and I close my eyes, barely stomaching the bile rising from my stomach. My hand claws at the sleeve, attempting to free the knife. Sharp stabs of pain attack my head as he gets comfortable. His stench is pounding my nostrils. His hand reaches down into the waistband of my chiffon wrap and his labored breath is on my neck. I bite my lip, feeling unbridled rage and fury course through my veins. I grab his wrist, and twist hard, flipping him. I slam my other palm into his elbow, snapping his arm. He screeches as he falls, gripping his arm and curling into a fetal position and with that, I rip my knife from the folds of my tefi. What was the left sleeve of the garment falls to the floor. I turn him onto his back and straddle him. He is gasping in pain, babbling pleas. I look down on him with contempt and pity. I grip his neck and shove his head into the carpeted floor, eliciting a yelp of surprise and more babbling. He grasps at my hand, trying to free his restraint, but my hand is iron against his throat. With his neck exposed, I lean in close, eyes and voice cold and icy:
"I was paid five hundred royals for this. But it's still not worth all the lives you've ended and ruined in your tyranny."
He is whimpering and crying now. A pathetic man. With that, I bring the knife up to his fat neck and I slash his throat deeply. A geyser of blood sprayed around the room, ruining the chiffon wrap, staining my tefi, dyeing my hands a deep crimson. The carpet beneath turns black as the blood pools around his corpse. An aroma of iron, and decay fills the room, and with the stench of his body came the unmistakable perfume of alcohol. The combination of all these smells stings my nostrils, adding to the migraine. I glance up to try and clear the episode of pain and I notice that the ceiling has not been spared. Flecks of red spot the ceiling of the ornate room, ruining the traditional Antivan mural painted above. The sour stench, the burning in my nose too harsh to handle. The pounding in my head intensifies, nearly incapacitating me as it spikes to a crescendo. I cry out, shutting my eyes. The flecks up above turn white as they emblazon into my vision. Stars at the back of my eyelids, the pain is a white light burning my eyes, like a supernova behind my lids. And…
I wake, the sunlight is hitting me square in the eyes, intensifying what pain I was feeling. I squint and bury my face into the sheets as the light pierces through the curtains and blinds me. I shut my eyes, trying to block it out, but to no avail. The iridescence of the summer sun glows amber against my field of vision, forcing me to face the reality of the choices I made last night, and the dawn of a new day. I inhale deeply, smelling nothing except burnt wax from the candle by the bed and the unmistakable perfume of sex. My head feels like an anvil was dropped on it while a lumberman split my head sideways. I raise my arms to my head to try and quell the pain, but to no avail. I hear the clamor of the shopkeepers and vendors outside, cleaning up the remnants of last night's firework show, and the commotion of customers haggling for the Post-Summersday sales. The cacophony pounds my eardrums like a myriad of explosions, deafening me. I squeeze the pillow around my ears to try and steal a little more sleep, but the drone of the crowds prevents me. With a groan, I turn over feeling a body sized imprint in the mattress, the covers thrown back. I bolt upright in a bout of confusion and panic, only to have my brain convulse inside my skull, throbbing and radiating lightning in my head. I gasp sharply, grimacing as I lay back down slowly. Did I bring someone home with me? What happened last night? I breathe in slowly, trying to remember the events of the night before through the throbbing. I lay there for what seemed like hours before the gong of the Chantry steeple bells gave me a rude awakening, signaling the midday hour.
I got up off the bed, groggy, head pounding, and walked over to the door. Opening it slightly, I peek around the corner and see Arielle in the kitchen, packing five bags while tending to four pots on the stove. Her humming is excited, energetic and festive as she pranced around the kitchen, stirring pots, checking the brick oven, and stuffing soaps and lotions into the bags in the foyer. Closing the door, I scan the room and see the clothes that I had taken off the night before. Walking over, I throw on the breeches and tunic from the night before. I glance over at the mirror hanging on the back wall and my eyes widen. Purple welts kissed the skin around my neck and the clothes I had thrown on were anything but clean. Oil and ale stained the cloth, making it look more like a table cloth than a ten royal tunic meant for celebratory occasions. I sigh, as I resign myself to the idea of taking a hot bath before making any other major decisions. I walk back over to the door, not ready to talk to Arielle just yet. Taking a deep breath, I open the door, careful not to make a sound. Tiptoeing into main hallway, I hear the humming and clamor in the kitchen stop. I freeze in my tracks as I hear shuffling down the hallway. Damn. I didn't want to have to deal with Arielle, at least not right now.
"Tevy? You awake now? Its midday!" her cheery voice rang down the hallway. I grimace. Her cheerful, invasive interrogation of the man I brought back yesterday would not be one I would enjoy, especially not with the migraine I was experiencing. I break into a sprint to the bathroom across the hall, in an attempt to attain some peace and quiet. I slam the door behind me, and lean against it. Latching the bolt behind me, I breathe a sigh of relief and lean on the edge of the sink.
I hear the handle on the bathroom rattle and I hear pounding on the oaken door. I bury my face in my hands and groan audibly. There were times when being Arielle's housemate was unbearable. Once an interrogation started, there was no stopping until you talked with her face to face.
"Tevy? Let me in! I have to talk to you! How could you do this? You left me all alone last night. We have so much to plan for the next week and you don't as so much as check in on me after talking with Gil? I was in the middle of my basil and cream custard when Sister Tauriel mentioned you were gone for about two hours at that point. TWO HOURS and I didn't notice. How do you think I felt? You didn't even think about how I was getting home! I had to stay over at Amber's place. She had to sleep on the couch! I thought you two went to go see the fireworks, not come home with him. And come on… Tevy you could have at least warned me. I come home in the morning and I see his naked ass running to the bathroom, no clothes on. I mean, congratulations and all. He's very built and uh… very endowed, but that's beside the point."
Up to that point, I had ignored her, unwilling to open the door and engage in any conversation. Her demands to be babysat always pained me and annoyed me like no other, but this was outrageous. Just because she got selected to go to The Grand Conclave in the next week didn't give her the right to be a snooty know-it-all. My already pounding head throbbed more and more as Arielle kept spewing crap from her mouth. I tried to ignore her to calm the pain; however, in response to that last statement, I felt a fire start in my fingertips that burned a wide reckless path to my chest. I barreled to the door, unlatched the bolt. Yanking the door open, I stared at her with brazen eyes.
"Arielle, shut up. Please, for the love of Andraste's tit. My head is hurting like none other and I just need you to not hound on me for at least the next few hours so I can shower and clean up. I don't need your snooty ass interrogating me when I clearly am in pain over here. Are you capable of that?" I practically shouted.
Arielle was stunned to silence and her mouth opened and closed for the next few seconds as she stared at me with an incredulous look in her eyes. I gave her a glare, sweeping my arms in front of me to point to the kitchen, ushering her away from the bathroom in a grand gesture. Her face settled on a perplexed frown as she turned away, heading back to her humming and prancing. I slammed the door shut, eliciting a splintering groan from the door. I slump against the locked door, the heat cooling off from my chest as I rolled my eyes at the mirror above the sink.
"Fuck. I can't even have a single moment's worth of silence, can I?" I ask my reflection. I stood there for a few moments, collecting my wits and my composure before deciding to move. Standing up, I slap my cheeks slightly, waking myself up.
I walk over to the bath, turning the knob on the spout located on the wall. Hot water gushed out, filling the tub with clean, hot water. The water began to fill the basin. I check the temperature of the water before I walk over to the cabinet in the corner and pull out a few jars containing soaps and cleaning solutions. Balancing the jars in hand, I walk back over to the tub and set down the containers on the edge. Steam rolled off of the rippling water as I bend down to take a bucket from the corner of the room and fill it with hot water from the bath. I set the bucket down and begin to disrobe. Stripping down, I fold the breeches and tunic carefully before soaking them into the bucket of hot water. I open two of the jars and pull out a handful of lavender pods and a few cubes of cinnamon bee's wax with which I drop into the bucket containing my soiled clothes and also the bath itself. I climb into the tub, relaxing as the hot water began to wash away the exhaustion and grime from the previous night away, and also soaking away all of the stress and pain of the morning. Within seconds, the warm, pristine aroma of the soaps fill the room, as the clothes in the bucket and I soaked away. I close my eyes, as the exotic spices and calming water lulled me into a state of neutrality as my mind wandered off with the trailing steam.
9:32
"Trevelyan!" her voice cut through, "Put your sword higher, you're not going to hit a Tevinter with that stance!" I perk up and stand at attention, raising my arm to fulfill the order.
"Alabaom," the voice continued. "Stop snickering, your technique wouldn't impress a blind princess much less me! As for you, Arafel, stop glaring at Trevelyan. If you want to bed him or kill him, do it when you've graduated. Besides, you're too small and young to do either at the moment. And you, Rinzfeld. Stop staring off into space. There are no stars in the skies, only the sun. If your parents wanted you to be a mage, they'd have sent you off to a damned Circle by now. Pay attention! None of you are getting so much as a wink of sleep while you're on my watch! Now drop and give me a hundred!"
And drop we did. No one questioned Lieutenant Tari or risk her wrath on all of us. She stood at four foot eight, and weighed less than an Antivan paperweight, but she was as tough as a Ferelden water yak. She slept with a blanket of daggers and a padded helmet as her pillow. No one won an argument with her, and no one wanted to fight her, either. And despite being a lieutenant, she was considered a high ranking official with smarts to back it up. Many a general asked for her opinion and professional advice in times of crisis or adversity. She had a philosophy: That every Templar was no better than the one next to him, and if one of you screwed up, all of you did. She ruled the Academy with an iron fist and we were the better for it. Not a single recruit was overlooked, not a mistake too small for scrutiny. Many a successful Templar trained under her tutelage and many a Templar owed their lives and careers to her. The four of us were nobles' sons, bred from luxury and sophistication. The only paths allowed for us were a life in law or the life of the Templar. Clearly, the four of us were not interested in reading scrolls for the rest of our lives. So here we were, first day trainees in a special tutoring camp before we were allowed to join the other recruits who were going to be drafted from the countryside in the next autumn. Here, we were the soft uncultured ones who had a whole world of knowledge to learn. We had already woken up at the crack of dawn for morning training and conditioning. The sun hung low
We knew the routine as we began the pushups. One. Two. Three. Sweat rolled off our foreheads as we did our pushups, the hot Orlesian summer sun beating on our backs. Thirty. Thirty-one. Thirty-two. The grass was rough and smelled of horse urine from where the riding classes had taken their steeds this morning. Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine. Sixty. The stench was unbearable, seeping into our clothes and our pores. Seventy-five. Seventy-six. Seventy-seven. We could hear Lieutenant Tari in the distance somewhere, shouting at us, warbled and muffled. Eighty. Eighty-one. Eighty-two. I could see the Lieutenant's shoes in front of me, kicking dust into my face. I could hear myself about to convulse, a hacking cough building up. Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine. Hundred. With a gasp, we collapsed onto the ground, embracing the moment's worth of rest and relaxation even if it meant lying in the stench and the filth. We coughed and panted like dogs in the heat, breaths ragged as we struggled to our feet, knees wobbling, and arms weak.
"Get up, now, recruits. I didn't come here from Val Royeaux to teach a bunch of sniveling idiots. Get up now! If you can't push a hundred out and be ready to face an army, then I haven't done my job. Now, five laps around the manor grounds."
We looked at each other in exasperation at the impossibility of her order, our eyes widening with surprise. Arafel opened his mouth to protest, but Lieutenant Tari cut in, with her razor sharp voice.
"Oh no, you do not look at your commanding officer with that face. And Arafel, you do not get to question my orders. Your job is to listen and obey. For that, we'll make it ten laps. Chop chop! Let's go! If I don't see you by sundown, I'll lock you out for the night. You all can sleep out here in the Orlesian wilderness for all I care."
With that, Lieutenant Tari turned curtly towards the manor and left us, sweating and heaving, in the setting sunlight. Rinzfeld, Alabaom and I gave Arafel a scathing look, angry that he had angered the Lieutenant. The four of us proceeded to lumber off towards the east entrance of Ostwick Manor, stumbling and struggling to put one foot in front of the other. Our heads lolling in front of us, fixated on the path ahead as one by one, we began our long trek, the dusty path lined with the footprints of thousands of Templars who came before.
9:41 Three Davys before The Grand Conclave
Like a crash of lightning, I was awakened rudely to a booming sound. The sound of the front door slamming had woken me in a fright. Bolting up, I could hear Arielle's hiking boots stomping off into the distance. I sigh, cold water dripping off of my body. Clearly, my reaction to her was uncalled for and unnecessary. I would have to apologize to her later. Sitting back down in the cold bath water, I look at my hands lazily wanting to enjoy the last moments of not having any responsibilities. My fingers were wrinkled and looked like sun dried prunes. I grimace, clearly having slept in the water for too long a time. I stand up, twisting my neck left and right to relieve the ache of sleeping in the tub. Looking out the window, I see that the sun is now at its peak, midday. Reaching over to grab a towel, I realize that the pain in my head was gone, a testament of the lavender pods performing their duty. I unplug the drain as I rub dry my chest and arms, watching the aromatic bath spiral down into the pipes below. Stepping out of the tub, I bend down to touch my toes, popping a few spinal joints in the process, stretching out jammed muscles from my impromptu nap. I groan as my body protests, resisting my attempts to align my body again. Remaining in the same stretched position, I dry off my legs and feet. After my toes had been dried, I stand up again, the ache in my body not as bad. I open the cabinet in the corner, putting my towel with the rest of the soiled clothes in there. Turning around, I bend down and pick up the bucket with the clothes from this morning's soak. I take the clothes out from the water, wring out the water, and string them out on the wire hanging on the back wall of the bath. Satisfied with the work I had done, I turn back to the cabinet and grab a set of clean garments and don them.
Emerging from the bathroom I could immediately tell that Arielle had left in a fit of anger. The kitchen was a complete mess. The smell alone could kill a herd of bison. Burnt matter sent an acrid smell through the room, bitter and pungent. The pile in the sink was as tall as I was; filled with basically every piece of cookery and dish we owned. The floor was greasy from what appeared to be a spill of one of the pots. I walked over to the stove and saw that it was going to take a lot more than soap and water to get the burns off of the stone. Refusing to clean up after what that girl had put me through, I turned around and went to my room where I began to start packing my things for our trip in the next few days.
9:32
The four of us collapsed at the outer gate of Ostwick Manor, exhausted, sweaty, and tired. The sun had set hours before we were done, and for three of the laps, we ran in the Orlesian starlight. Beautiful as it may have been, we barely looked to the sky. The sheer length of each lap eclipsed any and all motivation to appreciate the celestial fixtures. We sat there for a good hour, shivering and chattering as we garnered up what reserves of energy we had left.
"F-Fuck. Tara w-wasn't kidding. We're stuck out h-here for the night." Alabaom cursed.
We sat there, dumbfounded at our predicament. After a 10 league run and we were stranded in the Orlesian wilderness, forced to fend for ourselves for the night. We weren't ready for this.
A twinge of panic set amongst all of us as we looked at each other. The color drained from our faces, leaving an empty husk of panic and resignation. This may have been summer, but the nights in Orlais were still cold and unkind. We knew that not only would we have to fight the cold, but we would have to scrounge for food, defend against animals, and most importantly, find water. I looked up in the sky, searching desperately for the Silentir constellation. As my eyes raked the night sky, I stopped at a light emerald star twinkling near the East. I traced the stars that composed the constellation, searching for the apex point of the star cluster. Finding it, I motioned to the direction the cluster pointed towards.
"That way is n-north," I said with a quiver. "We'll roam towards the East; that way we can f-follow the rising sun if we n-need. A-Alaboam and I will start a fire, Arafel and R-Rinzfeld, you try and find some food." I say decisively through my chattering teeth.
The four of us nod, scared and determined. Wordlessly, we all stood and began hiking up the hills to the plains behind the manor. The once welcomed breeze that cooled us off during our run was now frigid and bone chilling. We huddled and hugged each other to harbor against the cold, as we broke off into pairs and began to scrounge. Alabaom and I searched around, for firewood and dry kindling. The aching in my knees persisted as a dry hum in my legs, droning a chant of exhaustion and weariness. My legs gave out, dropping me into the damp earth. Wincing, I began to dig a pit in an attempt to construct a fire pit. I could hear Alabaom's labored breaths as his head crested the hill. He is carrying a load of lumber and kindling. He collapses with a huff next to me, dumping all of the contents in his arms into the makeshift pit I had dug. I dig out a small knife and a flint shard from the pouch at my side. I strike the flint with the knife. Sparks fly onto the wood, illuminating the both of us with a weak amber light. The heat around my fingers is warm, singeing the nail and skin of my thumb. I strike again, the accompanying flash illuminating the creases of weariness, the streaks of exhaustion, and the bags under our eyes. A small flame catches onto the kindling underneath, frail and solitary. I lean down, closing my dried eyes, blowing onto the flame softly. Like a small child learning to walk, slowly, the flame catches and spreads, eating up the sun dried lumber with a greedy hunger. Thin ribbons of acrid smoke trail into the sky like dancing ghouls, marking our position to the other pair.
"Alabaom…" I started, turning to face the other youth.
"Roderick." The youth whispered, almost inaudibly.
"What?" I ask, unable to hear his response.
"It's Roderick. My name is Roderick from House A-Alabaom." He managed, burying his head into my shoulder, as a new breeze picked up. The flames in the pit danced as the harsh, icy wind blew down from the Weyrs, setting the shadows behind us dancing and leaping. We huddled against each other, shivering, our faces drying out in the heat of the fire, and our backs freezing from the frigid winds.
"Alabaom…Roderick. Where's Rinzfeld and Arafel?" I ask warily, looking around. "I haven't seen them since they left to go search for food and water."
"It's only b-been about a half an hour… let's build this fire higher so they c-can see where they n-need to head towards."
We stand, huddled around each other, arms wrapped across each other as we walked around the forested clearing, looking for any dry lumber or pieces of wood to use for the fire. The bright moon did little to light the forest, but the shadows of the trees and rocks around us were stark and intimidating, long and exaggerated on the hillside. Wandering aimlessly with only the live fire behind us to mark our position, we set forth into the forest. The process was slow, painstaking. The soles of our feet were numb and painless despite walking on rough terrain. Our skin was alive with gooseflesh and our breaths were white wisps against the black Orlesian sky. In the warm glow of the fire, we were pale and violet, almost blue. As we picked through the shrubbery and scavenged the forest floor, we heard rustling in the distance, the sounds of scuffles and resistance towards the South. We heard snarls, barks, and human shouting. An unearthly scream pierced the calm night, setting aflight a flock of ravens. We look at each other, the amber flames echoed in each other's eyes as we turned to the direction of the sound. The sticks and bundles of lumber fell from our arms as we ran to the South, towards the Vimmark Mountains. There was no feeling as we ran towards the foot of the mountains, fear paralyzing rational thought and physical sensation. We both knew what that sound was, but we didn't say a thing so as to admit that the possibility was real. We broke the forest line and as trees thinned out to grassy fields; we froze, the gnawing feeling of horror hollowing out what spirit we had left.
9:41 Two days before the Grand Conclave
"For fucks sake, Arielle, wake up!" I shouted viciously. "Master Dinel is here to load our bags, get your ass down here!"
From the foyer I could hear a startled yelp and a succession of shattering clangs as a few unfortunate pots and pans were assaulted and flung to the kitchen floor. I roll my eyes in disbelief. Had she pulled another night in the kitchen? I knew she cooked extra for the families in Lydes that were having a difficult time, but this was insane. We were leaving by midday and she hadn't finished packing her bags.
I see her shadow tumbling into the foyer and what I beheld was a sight most hilarious indeed. Her hair was, well… a mess, to put it in the least. Bits of food flecked her apron and I'm sure those age spots on her face were grease stains. Flour caked her breeches, and her feet were caked in whatever junk littered the kitchen floor.
We made eye contact for a few seconds, my condescending gaze, scraping what juicy gossip I could from her unbecoming appearance. She blushed a violent crimson as she stuffed a huge parcel of food into one of the five already engorged bags lining the wall. Scurrying off, I could hear the water in the bath being filled as Master Dinel came in.
"Dinel! It's been so long," I exclaimed, embracing the burly man. "I haven't seen you and your beauties since last Moon's Festival. Where have you been?"
"Well, the ol' miss got sick with the shivers three moons ago and the new foals be kickin' 'round the stable too loud. Usually, she cares for the yung'uns while I tend to the mares but the healer tole her to rest up, so I got stuck with 'em all." Master Dinel dusts off his breeches, looking back at his mares fondly.
"Well, Dinel, why don't you come on in and I'll pour you some tea. I know that you and your wife raise some of the most beautiful mares and fearless stallions in Orlais." I said, ushering him in and hanging up his coat.
"Ahh, ye give me too much credit, Tev," Master Dinel scoffs, despite the proud twinkle in his eye. "I'm told this blasted Conclave needs the best representatives from our village, but sounds like I'm just a blasted wagon driver, heh?"
"Yeah, I know Dinel, this job's a hassle, but at least it'll pay well." I stated.
I make my way to the kitchen, with Master Dinel in tow. I open the door and see Arielle over by the sink, now in her Chantry stole and habit. The room smelled minty and there wasn't a speck of grease or oil anywhere. I glance over at the stove and see that the burn marks were now absent. The monstrous pile in the sink had disappeared, and every surface of the granite counter was shiny and completely cleansed.
Arielle turns around and completely ignores me, moving onto Master Dinel.
"Master Dinel, thank you so much for transporting us to the Temple. I know this is a lot to ask, but I'm so glad you could do this," she said in a giddy, excitable voice.
I roll my eyes. Her unnatural, uncanny habit of looking like crap to me and on a dime seem overly presentable to others, annoyed me to no end.
As Arielle continued to gab on, I walked over to the cabinet, looking for tea leaves and a pot. Grabbing the kettle on the stove, I poured in some dried orange rinds, dried embrium leaves, honey, and water. I light the firewood under the stove, setting the kettle on top and returning to the table.
Arielle is incessant; lecturing Master Dinel on the differences between Chantry sisters and the Monks of the Maker. I see from his partial smile, his shifting legs and his raised eyebrow that he is clearly not interested with the discussion at hand.
"The Monks of the Maker don't have as many dut-"
"Dinel!" I interjected. "I haven't yet greeted your beauties. Why don't we go outside and feed them some treats. I specifically got them Ferelden golden apples, their favorite! Also, thanks to Arielle here, we have triple the amount of bags we should have."
Dinel gives me a glance of appreciation and thanks. We get up, walking outside as I grab the apples from my room.
Jogging to the front door, I see that Arielle is leaning on the front door, livid and annoyed.
"Asshole." Arielle shot at me.
"You're going to The Grand Conclave. Wash your mouth out. With that mouth, you'll start a war with the Templars and mages saying anything." I shot back as I nudged her aside, opening the door and stepping outside.
Slamming the door, I saw the four gorgeous horses that Dinel had brought with him. Dinel was already talking with his horses, petting them each in turn with the care a father would his child. The crunch of my boots on the gravel announced my arrival to which the horses stirred excitedly.
"Oh my gods, Dinel, they still remember me!" I exclaimed.
"Of course they remember ye, dolt. Ye spoilt them many a time when they be foals." He said blandly. He walked back towards the wagon in the back, adjusting the rigging and straps.
I walked up to the chestnut mare, clapping her on her back; her auburn pelt soft and smooth.
"How are you doing, Solus." I petted her snout affectionately, offering her an apple with the other hand.
She whinnied and butt her snout into my palm, licking up the apple. She looked at me with crystalline eyes, sparkling with recognition.
The grey mottled stallion behind her tossed his head, impatient and frustrated to meet me.
"Lauf! Stop giving Solus a hard time." I chastised him. He shook his head in response, huffing his annoyance and trying to bite the apple out of my hand. I give him the apple, not wanting to lose fingers in the process.
I look over to see a midnight black stallion, still and stoic.
"I didn't forget about you, Istalri," I whisper to him as I walked over.
He leans his head into my arms, sniffing and huffing before straightening up to butt my shoulder affectionately.
"Here you go," I told him, handing him an apple.
The last horse was pure white, not a spot on her.
"Vind, you little darling! I missed you." I say to her. She practically jumps up and down, shuffling her hooves and tossing her head with a neigh. I burst into laughter at her excitement, holding her reigns and calming her down.
"Here you go, you crazy horse." I say to her, handing her the last of the apples.
As Vind munched happily on her apple, I look over to see how packing was going. I could see that Dinel had placed all of our bags in the wagon, and was about to gather some last minute materials before heading off. Arielle stepped out of the apartment with another bag, of all things, and climbed into the wagon.
"Are ye and the lady ready to go?" Dinel asked.
"Yeah, we're pretty much ready." I sigh, not wanting to leave Lydes so soon. The Summersday festivities were officially over, but there was still partying dotting the city if one kept their eyes peeled.
"Arielle, where are we picking up the four other people again?" I ask her, inquiring about the four other sisters that were going to join us to The Grand Conclave.
"They'll get here when they get here." She shot at me.
I rolled my eyes as I climbed into the wagon, taking out a book from my knapsack, The Fifth Blight and propped my legs up onto the opposite bench. First come, first serve: I could take as much space as I wanted to. The other four were at a loss for coming late.
As the new summer's evening sun streamed into the cabin, the horses were urged on, trotting at a slow pace, headed towards the Temple of Sacred Ashes. A full night of travel was ahead of us, through the Dales and the Frostback Mountains. I opened the book at my lap, trying to pass the time by reading. As the wagon rocked its way to the edge of Lydes, the evening sun lanced through the wagon, illuminating us in a burgundy beam. Lavender and lilac kissed the sky, swathing a stretch of it with the evening glow. Fireflies were awakened, lighting the shaded bushes as we left Lydes towards The Imperial Way. As I began to read, the words themselves seemed to dance in the vernal sunlight, lulling me into a relaxing sleep.
9:32
We had all heard stories of the Blights of Thedas. Some of us were children born during the last Blight. We had heard ghost stories, old wives' tales and the motherly threats of night crawlers if we didn't eat our vegetables. We studied the histories and the old texts about these evil monsters, studied their appearances, their tactics, their biology. But nothing…nothing prepared us for what we saw in that clearing. Something was hunched over, lean, tall, and twitchy, taking hops towards Rinzfeld and Arafel. The thing barely made any imprint in the grass, as if it were standing on long stilts. In the moonlight, we could see the outline of a cloak that rustled and twitched every second, a long neck that wound its way towards the two, and a disfigured head, oozing pus. In its jaw, a set of jagged teeth that snapped at the two tauntingly, and in each hand, a long thin knife that reflected the white light of the moon. Rinzfeld and Arafel were against the boulder cliff, separating Ostwick Territory from the Waking Sea. Their eyes, transfixed on this bird like creature, their fear palpable and evident all over their faces. Despite all the courage they could muster, the presence of this darkspawn had drained what willpower they had gathered. Their eyes pleaded with anyone that could see to come and save them.
I couldn't move, I was stuck, staring at this monstrosity of a beast. I knew that if I didn't do something quick, Rinzfeld and Arafel were doomed to a painful death. However, time seemed to stop, my body disobeying any and all commands I had given, as fear settled in. I closed my eyes as the winding head gathered close to the two, baring its teeth. Bracing myself for what horrors were about to occur, I tried to shut out what was going on.
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" a voice rang out, shattering the eerie suspense. I flung my eyes open to see what had become of the two, only to see that the bird like creature was wounded. Rinzfeld and Arafel were as surprised as I was. Two arrows in its right eye had it writing in pain. It screeched a high pitched scream as it turned its head to us, blasting out my right eardrum. I unfroze, looking over to Alabaom and seeing a bow in his hand, his fingers bleeding from the impact of the arrow's release. A furious snarl snaps my eyes back to the beast, its blades bared in each hand, his advancing head like that of cobra. His mouth opens again, screeching, making both Alabaom and I fall to the ground, clutching our ears. I cannot hear what is happening but somewhere in the din, I hear Alabaom cry out in agonizing pain and the shouting from Rinzfeld and Arafel. The screeching gets louder and shriller, burring into my brain. A white hot nucleus of agony blooms in the center of my arm, radiating up towards my shoulder. I open my eyes to see its face is mere inches from mine, the black ooze dripping onto my face, and one of its knives is buried in my arm.
I am screaming. My voice uncontrollably yelling. But no sound is coming out. I cannot tell whether it is my ears or my voice that isn't functional. The pain is too much. I roll to my side, to try and curl into a fetal position and nurse my wounds and I realize too late that I had just rolled off a hillside.
I am tumbling now, through rosebushes, thistles, cacti, and large ferns. The wind is knocked out of me as a large palm trunk stops my fall, slamming my back into its branches. I gasp, winded and wounded. I struggle to my feet, and look up the hill I had just fallen down from with a look despair. Some 50 yards now separated me and my friends and not enough time to get all the way back up. I cannot hear a thing. I raise my hands to both ears and discover that both ear canals are bleeding, completely ruptured.
Crawling my way to the foot of the hill, I try to climb its semi-steep slope, but to no avail. The pain that radiates from my back and the damage to my eardrums is too much for me to maintain balance. Splayed at the foot of the hill, I began to lose consciousness from the loss of blood, and the extensive wounds.
Alabaom. Arafel. Rinzfeld. I'm sorry. I thought we'd be able to make it through together. That last thought trailed off as my head hit the grassy hillside. My eyes drooped and closed, my body shutting down from the pain and destruction that it had experienced.
9:41-2 days before the Grand Conclave- Late Night
I woke, book, covering my face, body splayed over the bench. The cold air nipped at my exposed body, forcing me to sneeze twice. Shaking off the sleepiness and exhaustion, I look around, searching for answers. Arielle gives me a glare and rolls her eyes as she steps off the wagon.
"What are we doing? Where are we?" I ask. Disoriented and confused.
"We be picking up the other four chaps. They were visitin' a small community four hours from Lydes. They said they would meet us up on the Imperial Way. Now get up Tev, and help me with these darned lanterns. Horses can't see too far in this here nighttime." Master Dinel stated.
I hopped off the wagon, spotting a group of four hiking through the agricultural fields towards us with torches for light. Taking out my flint and steel, I strike a flame onto the wick Master Dinel held out. With the flame lit, he circled around the wagon, lighting the lanterns that hung in the front and back.
The party of four had made it to the back wagon, and were now stashing away their luggage. Walking over to them, I stick my hand out to greet them.
"Hi, I'm Tevasta, Arielle's escort. It's a pleasure to meet you." I say.
There are two women; one dressed like Arielle, the older, had different robes, and the rectangular habit characteristic of Mothers.
"Ah. You must be the thief Master Baker is so keen to put away," the Mother stated tritely with no emotion. She extends her arm as well, grasping mine and shaking slightly. I blush and divert my eyes briefly.
"I am Mother Arabella and this is Frindyel," she states; motioning to the man next to her.
"A pleasure to meet you." I say, shaking hands with Frindyel as well. He nods, acknowledging my greeting with a grim face.
Frindyel climbs into the wagon, stretching a hand to Mother Arabella to help her get in.
I look to the other duo, and I see that Arielle is speaking animatedly to the other sister in hushed tones.
I walk over to the other female, dressed in sturdy clothing for the trip. She turns to face me, extending her hand.
"Hi! I'm Naya, Sister Clarice's escort. Is it true that Master Baker put a bounty on your head?" she launches.
I extend my hand, chuckling and smiling.
"Well met, Naya. I'm Tevasta…your local thief," I add for good measure.
She chuckles, easily amused as the four of us make our way to the wagon. The lanterns are lit now, providing a dim glow to the interior. Frindyel, Sister Clarice, Arielle and Mother Arabella are closest to Master Dinel. I see that he is adjusting his seat, whispering words of encouragement to the horses. I climb up the steps of the wagon and take a seat next to Mother Arabella, picking up the book from the bench. Naya sits across from me, crosses her arms and goes to sleep, nuzzling her head into Frindyel's shoulder.
"Ahh, The Fifth Blight," Mother Arabella says forebodingly, looking at my book. "My grandmother lived to tell the tale of that story. I do believe Master Kifpher interviewed her for this particular book. May I see?" she inquires tentatively.
"Of course, Mother." I state, closing the book and handing it off to her.
Master Dinel has urged the horses on, causing a minor jolt amongst the passengers
She caresses the cover with her aged hands, as if finding something long forgotten. As she opens the cover, she leafs around the book for a while, gazing at the illustrations with fond nostalgia. She stops on a page with an illustration of an Archdemon on one page. Her slight smile hardened to a flat, thin line, devoid of emotion. Her finger traces the lines of text on the opposite page, slow and deliberate.
The wagon goes over a bump in the road, lightly jostling everyone inside. Naya stirs, but remains asleep. Mother Arabella turns to me, motioning to the line her finger sat on.
"3:12, Towers
'The Fifth Blight was an atrocity. The streets were full of shades and wraiths. I saw friends, family succumb to the oncoming wave of darkspawn. I saw a man ripped in two, pleading to Andraste to deliver him. Darkspawn, flaying him alive, eating his entrails while his voice cried to the heavens. I still have nightmares about him. I hid in my home, a protected little flat on the second floor. My husband, my little Aiya and I hid away, making no noise so as to attract oncoming darkspawn. My neighbors were smart and barricaded the staircase from the first floor to the second. We helped each other cope with the gore that had painted the streets. We broke bread and shared food. It was three days of darkness and silence before the Grey Wardens arrived. We were running low on food and supplies. The Grey Wardens came and saved us, yes… but at what cost? When you are the only force that stands between humanity and The Blight…well it gets to your head. The most frightening of events happened not between darkspawn and human, but what happened between the Grey Wardens and humans.'"
The wagon tilted slightly as The Imperial Way turned towards the East towards the Dales. By now, all but Mother Arabella and I were asleep, heads lolling to the rhythm of the horses' trot.
"Mother… I didn't know that you…" I began.
"It's quite alright, Tevasta. Just know, my dear boy, that where we're going, peace may not be the ultimate result. The disease of greed and selfishness plague many, even among the Chantry. Be wary." Mother Arabella stated.
Her haunting words brought back memories I had but tried to suppress. Memories of a time long ago began to fill my head. Shaking my head slightly, I try and forget, yet again, but her words echoed even as I closed my eyes to sleep.
Eve of the Grand Conclave
"Tevy," a voice whispered next to me. I inhale sharply, squeezing my already shut eyes even tighter. The crisp mountain air, awakening my consciousness and pumping my blood faster. I register that this is the first time Arielle has spoken to me since the incident back in Lydes. Slowly, I opened my eyes, turning to face Arielle, remembering all the frustration and anger she had caused not too long ago. Expecting to hear an earful of her nonsense, I scowl my face, readying myself for the barrage. However, when I gazed at her, she no longer read of anger and frustration. She had a partial smile on her face as she gazed outside the wagon. Her eyes were wide, full of wonder and awe as she pointed to the sight she saw outside the slit in the wagon's sheets. I looked out to where she was pointed and was met with an overwhelming sense of humbling awe.
The repurposed Temple of Sacred Ashes stood before us in all its majestic grandeur. We were a couple leagues from the Temple but even from this distance, one could still see the sparkling marble pillars, the opaque obsidian monoliths, and the consecrated Alexandrite statues of Andraste and the Maker. Mosaics spanned the lengths of the temple's exterior walls, depicting the history of the Chantry. As the rising sun crept over the horizon, the light diffracted off the millions of gem shards in these mosaics and sprayed a kaleidoscope of optical wonder. Red from Ferelden dragonstone, green from Free March jade, blue from Antivan sapphires, and sparkling white from Orlesian diamonds. Like a gem in the middle of a mountainous graveyard, the temple sparkled high above the valley floor. Like the Earth presenting its most fit offering to the gods above, the temple was hugged and propped by arms and hands of granite and obsidian, as if Mother Nature herself wanted to indulge the gods personally. We stared for what seemed like hours at the temple in the mountain pass, not minding the shaking of the horses, nor the cramped quarters, nor the undisputed fact that we had been traveling for two days straight with little restful sleep. All those things seemed insignificant in the wake of what majesty and wonder stood before us now.
"I think I've died and gone to the Fade," I whispered silently. The pure ethereal aura of just the temple's exterior driving me to a spiritual place. I was calm for the first time in ages, eased of the pettiness of everyday life. Nothing was important in the presence of what stood before us.
Arielle glanced over at me and we locked eyes. We both smiled and shook our heads. We reached across the wagon to hold hands for a bit, squeezing each other's fingers slightly, and smiling even broader. As we turned back to watch the view outside, the sound of the wheels slowing down and the horses whinnying announced that we had approached the main gates of the Temple. We got up out of the wagon to talk to the two guards at the gate.
We both stretched, working out the kinks of a two day travel as we approached the two guards posted on the sides of the gilded entrance.
"Statement of Purpose!" shouted the guard on the right. He was stocky and stout, the gilded armor on him giving him a foreboding air around him. His partner on the left was slightly taller, but just as built, his armor accentuating the massive bulk of muscle that he was.
"We are from the Chantry in Lydes. Sister Arielle and her escort Tevasta; Sister Clarice and her escort Naya; and Mother Arabella and her escort Frindyel. I am Master Dinel, horse master in Lydes. We request permission to enter as representatives of Lydes for the Grand Conclave." Shouted Master Dinel.
"Present your official invitation." The guard on the left said flatly.
As we each in turn, presented our invitations, the guards took a great deal of time to authenticate each of our transcripts. All the while, interrogating us on the purpose of our stay and the length at which we were planning to remain.
"Do you have any weapons on your person? If so, present them. All weapons are prohibited on the holy grounds of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. We will return them to you when the time is due." The left guard stated.
One by one, the Chantry Sisters and Mothers turned over their personal weapons, the guards silent.
As I moved up to the guard, I removed the knives from my sleeves and boots, scabbards and all. Frowning slightly, I turned them over, handing them to the guard on the left. Sleeping without a weapon was going to require getting used to. I looked over and saw that Arielle had done the same with her bow and quiver.
As we were cleared by the two guards, the two behemoth gates began to open. The enormous gilded panels slid inward as we climbed back into the wagon. As the horses were spurred on, we passed the threshold of the Temple's entrance.
We took a steep left at the fork, as we headed towards the living quarters that were separate from the Temple itself. Inside the Temple grounds, we were met with more wonderful feats of Orlesian technology and design that made us gape in absolute wonder.
The grounds were fashioned after the gardens in Val Royeaux, with gigantic mosaic floors depicting Andraste and the Maker; rose bushes with every color of bud imaginable; the brass braziers that dotted the grounds every few hundred feet or so; and most spectacular of all, the malachite statuary and marble fountains that dotted the area. All this and the vast selection of aromatic trees around the area gave an ethereal, almost alien feel to the whole area.
As we approached the living quarters, we saw how enormous they actually were. The architect clearly had safety and segregation as his predominant theme here. The architect had built the living quarters in an enormous man-made ravine, requiring the descent of each participant down a decline into this makeshift valley. I saw two parallel lines of cabins stretching each length of the ravine. One parallel stretch of cabins were clearly occupied by the Templars. The armor and shields that were lying about glinted in the early morning sunlight. An anvil or two could be seen with a smith manning the station as well. On the other side, we could immediately tell that the mages set up camp in this parallel strip. The braziers that dotted each entrance were ablaze with every color of flame possible. Like a stained glass window, the cabins on the mage side sparkled every color of the rainbow. And not surprising, lying directly in the center of the ravine, was a square tent, about 500 feet long and wide where we saw Sisters and Mothers from every denomination across Thedas were gathered. The different colored silk tassels at their belts were the only way to distinguish between each other. As our wagon turned the corner in the decline, we could hear the bustle of how busy the living quarters actually were. From the hammering of armor on the anvil, to the animated discussions held by the mages, to the chanting and administration of rites by the Chantry members, the hustle and bustle of the living quarters reminded me very much of Market Square in Lydes.
We stopped near the Chantry tent, the horses whinnying their exhaustion and need for water. Master Dinel unhitched the horses and brought them over to the central trough where they began to drink voraciously.
The rest of us in the wagon climbed out, heading to the back where all of our packs were and began to carry them to the tent.
"I'm going to go see where we sign up to show that we are present," said Arielle to me, "Do you mind bringing my stuff to the cabin?"
I look at her with an exasperated face, looking down at the single bag that I had, and over to her five engorged monstrosities of luggage. I turn back to Arielle to protest, only to see that she had been making her way to the main tent.
"Are you serious?" I shout after her. "I'm not the one who brought the circus to the Temple. And besides, you're not allowed to wear anything other than your Chantry uniform. Why did you bring so much clothing?"
"Those aren't clothes!" I heard her shout over the din of the living quarters. "It's all food!"
I stare at her, as my jaw drops. All five bags were food? Well no wonder she was cooking for so long the day before we left. I turn to look back at the bags, I could see that Naya and Frindyel were rolling on the floor, cackling up a storm at what had just transpired.
"You know, one of these days, we're going to have a rat infestation and a breakout of the plague you know!" I shout back.
Arielle does not hear me as she begins to talk with other Mothers from different districts.
I shake my head, clearly unimpressed by her decision to bring five bags of food. No wonder the horses were struggling so much during the entire trip. They could smell good food and couldn't get to it. I sigh, uninspired to unpack what clearly was a feast fit for ten. I grab the five behemoth bags along with my own and start to trudge towards the cabin complex. I open the door to our complex and see that there are six beds laid out for us: three for the Sisters and Mother, and three for the escorts. There were two rooms to this cabin: one with all the beds, and the other with a kitchen, sink, and other utilities. I drag and plop off Arielle's bags on the bed in the far corner. I collapse on to the closest bed, exhaustion and drowsiness overwhelming me. The Chantry Bell clangs three times announcing the afternoon rites and as the monotonous drone of shuffling feet towards the Temple ensued, silence engulfed the living quarters. The now distant shuffle of arduous worshipers sounded like a lullaby, carrying me aloft a cloud of dreams.