Author's Notes: Guess what ladies and gentlemen I'm still alive.
I do not own Dragon Age or Game of Thrones (you may notice some inspiration in this chapter)
Please read, review, and enjoy.
Chapter 4: Hope
"Hope?" young Falke asked in a very confused tone of voice "what hope?" he gripped his small fist so tightly that his nails threatened to cut into his palms "all we have to look forward to is a life of living under the Templars' thumbs…as far the Chantry is concerned we're nothing more than weapons to be wielded against its enemies, then tossed aside once we're of no further use…tell me something…what hope is there in that?!" tears began to fall from his eyes.
"You must have faith Falke, the Maker…" Victoria began but was cut off.
"How many times do I have to tell you?" Falke interrupted "I don't believe in the Maker!" with that the child Mage turned and ran to his quarters.
Sister Victoria got up to follow him but was stopped by a gentle grip from the First Enchanter "I'll take care of him" Mevala assured her.
Young Falke sat on the edge of his bunk, it was still only late afternoon so he was alone in the dorm as he flexed his left hand watching fire, frost, and lightning alternating in regular intervals. Out of all the horrors of living in the Circle, the worst was having so much power yet at the same time being powerless to prevent the Templars' atrocities, even now years after rebelling I still remember the fear, the anger, and the feeling of helplessness.
"Hey" a calm voice called drawing Falke's attention towards Mevala.
"First Enchanter, I'm…" Falke began but before he could finish.
"You don't owe me any apologies" Mevala stated plainly "I'm not an Andrastian either but I think you should tell Sister Victoria you're sorry" the human child tilted his head down as his teacher sat next to him "tell me something, let's say you had the power to do anything, what would you do?"
"I'd bring the Circle System to an end, I'd kill every last Templar in the world, I'd also crush the Chantry along with anyone stupid enough to get in my way" Falke answered with a disturbing coldness that did not belong in a little boy "to see that happen I'd set this whole world ablaze if I had to."
"And what of the innocents who would be killed in the process?" Mevala inquired.
"In reading books on history I've noticed a pattern" Falke began his tone remained as disturbing as before "progress seems to demand blood, sometimes a lesser evil is required to bring about a greater good."
"True enough" Mevala conceded "but tell me this, if you can sacrifice the lives of innocent people who never harmed you or anyone and feel nothing, then how are you any better than Knight-Commander Abel and the Templars you despise?"
Falke's eyes shot open in response and his hands began to shake rapidly "First Enchanter…I…I just…"
"I know" Mevala assured the boy as she gently wrapped her right arm around his shoulders "listen to me Da'len, I have things that I wish to show you but first I need you to pass your Harrowing, I know it is difficult but trust me you'll like what I have to show you."
"I'll…try…" Falke replied weakly as Mevala pulled him into a soft embrace.
"Be strong" Mevala instructed "and remember my clan's saying."
"Banal nadas" Falke recited.
"Very good" Mevala said as she gently stroked the boy's brown hair.
*Present Day*
"Banal nadas?" Cassandra asked curiously.
"It means nothing is inevitable in elven" Falke explained with a certain level of fondness as he took a sip of ale "First Enchanter Mevala was a very wise woman, if anyone had any idea how true those words were at the time, it was her."
"Pft I don't see why ya bother with that elfy crap" Sera groaned as she usually does whenever the conversation goes towards anything elven.
"I have to admit it's kind of surprising" The Iron Bull said plainly "In Par Vollen we rarely go a week without hearing about some sort of Human-Elf clash in the south, it's interesting how well you and your First Enchanter got along."
"That's one of the few good things about the Circle" Falke replied lightly "the shared suffering made us realize human, elf, rich, poor, or whatever; if we didn't look out for each other no one would" he took a large sip from his drink as he turned his gaze towards the Antivan Ambassador "tell me Josephine how would you describe most Mages politically?"
"With the exception of First Enchanter Vivienne…" Josephine began causing the Inquisitor to roll his eyes at her name "…most Mages' number one goal beyond stopping the Elder One seems to be freedom from the Chantry and the Circles, beyond that they generally seem to have a rather cosmopolitan attitude towards the world…unless you're talking about Templars, the Chantry is also a sour topic for many of them."
"You really don't like Madam de Fer do you Inquisitor?" Varric chuckled.
"I suppose it's because she didn't support the rebellion?" Cassandra added.
"Come on Cassandra, I'm not that shallow" Falke replied sounding slightly hurt by her accusation.
"So what is the reason?" Cassandra inquired.
Falke's eyes slanted slightly as he looked the Seeker right in the eyes "the simple answer to that is because she's a selfish bitch."
"Here here" Sera replied as she chugged a whole tankard of beer.
"The more complicated answer is she's at best one…maybe two steps removed from being a complete and utter sociopath" Falke elaborated earning a rather disapproving look from the black haired woman "come on Cassandra, you've been a Seeker of Truth for over twenty years, do you really need me to tell you that she's only loyal to herself? She's not exactly secretive about that."
"You didn't hear this from me, but he's right Seeker" Varric chirped in "I mean the second her interests don't line up with the Chantry…well…"
"I get it Varric" Cassandra half hissed "if that's the case then why did you recruit her?"
"Giant hole the sky, demons spreading like nugs in the middle of mating season, certain doom for us all if we don't stop it" Falke listed calmly "you can't be too picky about your allies in a situation like that" he emptied the stein before letting out a deep breath "and as much as I hate to admit it she and her loyalist shits are useful but the moment she betrays us, she dies."
"Eh…I don't know about that boss, I mean dragons, Vints, and demons are one thing" the Iron Bull began "but Ma'am is…"
"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it" Falke replied with a gentle pat on the Iron Bull's shoulders "in any case I should get back to my story…"
*Year 30 of the Dragon Age*
Seven years as a Circle Mage had changed Falke dramatically, for one thing he now stood only about a head shorter than most of the adults in the Circle. His brown hair which had previously been kept extremely short to help prepare him for the more militarized life of a Templar was now much fuller than it had been before.
His skin which had previously been a tanned color was now much paler due to a lack of exposure to direct sunlight. His grey eyes which had once been filled with childish glee and innocence were now cold as stone but there was still a certain fierceness in them. Even seven years of living in fear hadn't broken him, not completely anyway.
Divine Faustine II had originally planned to name our era "The Sun Era" but with the return of the dragons she opted to call it "The Dragon Age" predicting it to be an age of violence and upheaval. That year would be only one of many to show just how right she was, in Southern Ferelden the Fifth Blight had begun.
When news reached Ostwick about the defeat at Ostagar rumors and speculation spread through the tower like wildfire. Blights normally last for decades as Darkspawn swarm the countryside killing and devouring everything in sight and poisoning the land with their presence. From what I heard, Divine Beatrix III at that point had suffered from multiple strokes and was suffering from dementia, for all intents and purposes she was a puppet for the few Grand Clerics who were able to get close enough.
This only made matters worse as Ferelden's king Cailan had died at Ostagar leading to his father in law Loghain Mac Tir to assume his throne as regent. While a brilliant military commander, Loghain was not fit to be a ruler. The first thing he did upon assuming control was focus on fortifying the border with Orlais and closing off its northern ports effectively cutting it off from the rest of Thedas.
Even more mind boggling Loghain declared the Grey Wardens enemies of the crown and not only would not allow them entrance, he put a mark on their heads. Now I don't have a clue just what it is exactly that makes the Grey Wardens so special when it comes to Darkspawn and Blights but the fact that all the Blights were ended when one of them killed the Arch-Demon not to mention their seemingly dodgy response when anyone presses them leads me to suspect some form of magic is involved but that's a curiosity for another day.
As news of the Blight spread so did a panic across the continent prompting leaders to start making emergency plans. There were even rumors that some leaders were considering an invasion of Ferelden in order to give the Grey Wardens access to prevent the Blight from spreading to other nations. However, because the Divine was effectively a puppet whose masters couldn't decide on a course of action, there was virtually no unity, nations were unwilling to act out of fear that a military movement would leave them vulnerable to their rivals. In short it was a year of utter chaos.
Naturally we Mages were eager for any kind of news, despite the Chantry's insistence that "Magic must serve man and never rule over him" the Chantry and the nations of Thedas never seemed to take much issue with using our abilities to expand and enforce their rule. Blights in particular made us valuable assets on the battlefield, when allowed to cut loose even a moderately skilled Mage is capable of roasting Darkspawn by the dozen. In a way everyone wins during a Blight, the Chantry and its puppet Kings and Queens get to maintain their thrones, and we get the opportunity to work out at least some of our aggression.
But what we were talking about most in Ostwick was the change in the Templars. They tried to hide it under their helmets and to avoid our gazes as much as possible because they didn't want us to know. Poor fools they had no idea, after living and breathing it for seven years, I could practically smell their fear from across the hall. Even that insufferable prick Knight-Commander Abel had a noticeable glint of fear in his eyes that I could see whenever I saw him.
While we were afraid of what the Blight could mean for us, seeing the cold stoic Templars afraid of what the future might hold for them brought an undeniable sense of joy to our hearts. About a year into the Blight however, something incredible happened, something that Sister Victoria considered to be a Miracle.
After a single year the Blight had been ended. Apparently two Grey Wardens had survived the battle of Ostagar and slew the Arch-Demon. One Warden rose to become King Alistair Theirin who sits upon the throne of Ferelden to this day, the other warden, the one who lead the effort quickly rose to become a legend. He is now known as Warden-Commander Amell and the Hero of Ferelden, formerly of the Ferelden Circle, a Mage had done the impossible.
As peace began to return to Ferelden Amell's story began to spread. Apparently after Ostagar he returned to the Circle to find it infested with demons. Despite the Templars calling in the rite of annulment, Amell and his team managed to purge the tower of demons while saving the bulk of the Mages. Where the Templars failed miserably, Amell succeeded. After that he traveled to the Dwarven City of Orzammar where he helped secure the throne of Bhelen Aeducan a ruthless but progressive leader credited with leading his people towards a new age. Next he brought the Dalish Elves under his banner by curing a pack of werewolves and restoring their humanity.
His biggest tale prior to the final battle came in the village of Radcliffe where a demon had possessed the Arl's young son Connor and began besieging the town with undead before Amell and his band drove them back. Whereas a Templar would simply have killed the boy without a second thought, Amell brought in aid from his fellow Mages and together they drove off the demon without resorting to killing a child. As if to make his legend even bigger Amell then did what most believed impossible he discovered the Urn of Sacred Ashes.
But the story that caught our attention more than any other was the story of what happened after the final battle. With the Blight over King Alistair offered Amell a boon for his services to the nation and the world. What we heard, which was later confirmed by Leliana was that the normally stoic and sometime brutal Amell immediately got on his hands and knees and begged the King to free the Mages from the Templars' control with tears in his eyes and desperation in his voice which no one had ever heard from him before.
King Alistair agreed but on one condition, Amell was to call him "brother", a condition that Amell gladly accepted. Despite originally being groomed as a Templar, King Alistair felt that we Mages had proven we could be better than the lies the Chantry had told for a thousand years.
This move was met with great debate and speculation from the nobles about what it would mean. The Grand Cleric of Ferelden immediately started spouting the usual crap about "magic is meant to serve man, but never to rule over him" the King was defying centuries of traditions and the very tenants of the Chantry. King Alistair turned to Amell and asked if he had anything to say in response.
Amell wiped the tears from his eyes, straightened his robes and hair, took a deep breath, and then as only an arch-mage can, he began to radiate power as if his very presence was pushing against everyone in the hall. Without touching his staff he began walking towards the Grand Cleric who immediately backed into the wall in fear as most of the hall could only watch in stunned silence.
When the Warden stood face to face with the Grand Cleric he calmly and stoically delivered a famous phrase "Fuck the Templars, fuck the Chantry, and fuck you" he then turned on his heel and walked away causing the Grand Cleric to sink to the floor, she never opened her mouth on the subject again.
All of Thedas was talking about him, a Mage who not only became a Grey Warden, but a hero, a hero who ended the Fifth Blight in a year, a hero who spat in the face of the Chantry and its Circle system. He challenged the Chantry to its face, and it blinked.
All of Thedas celebrated the Blight's end, especially in Ferelden from what I hear. But the Templars in Ostwick were never the same.
The thirteen year old Falke walked down one of the Circle's many halls where he saw Knight-Commander Abel standing grimly. Falke looked into his eyes and what he saw made the young Mage smile.
"What are you smiling at Mage?" Abel asked darkly.
"You're still afraid" Falke replied without a second's hesitation.
The Knight-Commander responded by slamming his fist into Falke's chest throwing the Mage back a couple feet and knocking him to the ground. The older Templar began to walk towards the boy who was nursing his chest but was stopped when he heard another voice.
"Why don't you try picking on someone your own size Knight-Commander?" a male voice called out drawing the Templar's attention towards a middle aged balding human.
"Enchanter…Rion…" Falke said through gritted teeth.
"This doesn't concern you Mage!" the Knight-Commander hissed.
"I beg to differ" a female voice called out from the opposite end of the hall as an elven mage in her early twenties appeared "attacking children, and you call yourselves knights!" she was flanked by an additional three Mages who all looked at Abel with disgust.
Abel's gaze returned to Rion who was now flanked by five more Mages including Mevala who glared at the Knight-Commander with barely contained fury "congratulation Abel, you proved you can beat a thirteen year old boy in a fist fight, I advise you to get your act under control!" as she spoke Rion and the Elven woman tended to the injured Falke.
Even after all these years I still remember it perfectly, the way Abel looked at my brothers and sisters. We were still afraid but thanks to Warden Amell's inspiration we seemed to learn that "courage" does not mean the absence of fear, but the strength to stand tall in the face of it.
"All of you get back in line" Abel commanded as he turned to leave.
I suspect it wasn't just in Ostwick, Warden Amell's accomplishments seemed to create the first sparks for Mages across Thedas. I had no idea what the future had in store for me, none of us did but for the first time in a long time we felt like people again, but there was one thing I did know; that one day I would kill Abel.
"Fuck the Templars…fuck the Chantry…" Falke said weakly as the pain from his chest made speaking difficult "…and fuck him."
*Year 34 of the Dragon Age*
Four years later came another crucial year for all of Thedas. In that year after a long tenure, Divine Beatrix III succumbed to a stroke. Following her death Justinia V rose to the Sunburst Throne; even in her early days I heard stories about her making motions to reform the Circles and expand the rights of Mages. A shrewd woman by all accounts, if anyone saw the coming war it was her, how much of her efforts on our behalf were because she wanted to stop the war and how much was out of genuine sympathy for our plight I don't know.
In Kirkwall an apostate named Hawke had managed to buy his way into the nobility which put him beyond the reach of the Templars. Later that year the Qunari's Arishok lead an uprising and killed the Vicount throwing his severed head amongst the gathered nobles. Just as it seemed like all was lost Hawke emerged and defeated the Arishok in single combat ending the uprising and saving the city. What I would give to have been in that room when Meredith was forced to acknowledge Hawke as "The Champion of Kirkwall."
On a minor note by comparison it was also the year of my Harrowing. I remember entering the top chamber of the tower, barely seventeen years of age. The room was filled with Senior Enchanters, Templars, and of course both Knight-Commander Abel and First Enchanter Mevala. As the Knight-Commander began reading that chant I noticed something was missing…on second thought this little story is probably better told over a game of Wicked Grace, especially the part with the rabbit, it might just be what finally makes Cassandra laugh. I trust you all can guess by the fact that I'm still alive that I passed with flying colors.
After I recovered from my Harrowing, First Enchanter Mevala kept her word and called me to her study. It was funny and strange really, when I first came to the Circle Mevala towered over me, she seemed like a mountain of power, prestige, and skill compared to me. But at that time the top of her head only reached my bottom lip and I could tell that age was starting to catch up to her. Not that I would have dared saying so to her face.
"You should know I've put you in this Circle's history book, I've placed it under lock and key…" Mevala explained to her human apprentice "…and we are never speaking of it again."
"Come on First Enchanter it wasn't…" Falke chuckled only to have Mevala grab his collar and pull his head down so it was level with hers.
"I said never again!" Mevala hissed as the mere thought of the incident seemed to threaten her sanity.
"Okay, okay" Falke replied not wanting to draw his teacher's wrath.
"Good, now about why you're here" Mevala continued as she released Falke "the reason I took you on as my apprentice eleven years ago is because I believe you may be worthy of learning my secret magic."
"Is it some form of Dalish magic?" Falke asked curiously.
"No" Mevala answered "it's a pair of spells I developed after decades of study once I was inducted into this Circle."
"So what kind of magic is it then?" Falke inquired.
"Anti-Templar magic" Mevala replied causing a wide smile to form on Falke's face.
"Master Mevala that's perfect, what are the spells, how do they work, what do they do?" Falke asked excitedly "this could be just what we need."
"Hold your Halla Falke" Mevala commanded calming the younger Mage "this magic, like all magic comes with a price."
"Name it" Falke replied eagerly "if this magic is even half as good as I hope this could be what finally allows us to destroy the Templars and…"
"Are you prepared to kill me then?" Mevala asked stoically causing Falke to freeze in place as soon as the words left her mouth "it's true, these spells could potentially grant you the revenge you've desired against the Templars for most of your young life, especially if you were to share it with the others, particularly the younger Mages who look up to you" Falke said nothing as Mevala approached him and placed a hand on his right shoulder "think it over Falke, I'll await your answer this evening after supper" she made her way towards the door before saying with a very tired tone of voice "I might take a while after all, if it's going to be my last supper, I may as well enjoy it."
I sat there the entire day; my mind was like a nug running inside a wheel. My hatred of the Templars and the Chantry was every bit as real then as it is now if not more so. I remember the feel of that first Templar's boot pressing into my back during my first day in the Circle, how much anger and hatred I felt towards him at that moment, my despair when my faith in the Maker shattered, and the feeling in my hands as I literally blew his head off.
I remembered seeing one of my sisters give herself to a demon after the Templars stole her baby and killed her lover. I watched as she slaughtered three Templars before I was forced to blow a hole through her body with a bolt of lightning. I remembered seeing how they beat, raped, and killed my fellow Mages without a single sign of remorse ever since I had arrived. There was no question, I wanted justice…and revenge.
But on the other hand I remembered how through it all my fellow Mages and Sister Victoria were always there for me, especially First Enchanter Mevala. I recalled how just four years prior they stood up against Knight-Commander Abel himself, if they hadn't arrived who knows what might have happened to me. Furthermore, First Enchanter Mevala took me under her wing, under her tutelage I quickly rose to the top of my class and would advance at an unprecedented rate in the Circle. But at the heart of it all was one simple truth, I loved them, they were my new family after my old one had thrown me away, I was willing to die for them.
More than ten hours had passed when I finally reached my conclusion, with my heart beating like a drum I made my way through the halls until I finally found First Enchanter Mevala in Victoria's chantry chatting with the Sister.
"So have you finally reached a decision?" Mevala asked as I entered the room drawing both the Mage and the Sister's gaze.
"I have" Falke answered calmly.
"Very well, follow me" Mevala instructed as she stood up "listen carefully because I don't want to feel anything when…"
"I'm sorry" Falke interrupted.
"Excuse me?" Mevala inquired.
"First Enchanter Mevala you've taught me so much over these past eleven years, not only that but you and Sister Victoria were always there for me when the emotional anguish was just too much to bear" Falke began as a thin trail of tears began to fall from his eyes "the truth is I consider both you and Sister Victoria to be more of a mother to me than that bitch who threw me to the Templars" Sister Victoria smiled softly at his words "I'm sorry, but I can't kill you and you were out of your mind to think otherwise…I love you too much…
"Is that it then?" Mevala replied "you're just going to give up?"
"Of course not!" Falke answered immediately "I've simply decided to find another way; maybe if we figure out how to get access to their lyrium supply, we could blow it up or spike it to fry their organs or…"
"Alright already, you pass Falke" Mevala interrupted causing her apprentice to freeze and Victoria to chuckle ever so slightly "honestly I can't believe you actually fell for that, this isn't some blood magic ritual, there's nothing about these spells that will kill me just because I teach you…"
"But…you…said…" Falke replied dumb founded.
"Don't be stupid Falke, this isn't some sort of blood magic ritual that requires a sacrifice" Mevala asked but only received a dumb look from Falke "this isn't the kind of power that can be trusted to someone who would kill their own mentor just to advance, but at the same time I couldn't trust it to someone who isn't at least willing to consider making a sacrifice for the greater good, the implications of this magic are not for the weak of heart."
"So…it was all a lie…to test me?" Falke asked weakly earning a nod from the old elven woman "you vindictive old woman!" Falke hissed, his face was flushed red "do you have any idea how much I tortured myself over this? I just poured out my heart and soul saying all that touchy feely shit and now you're telling me it was for nothing?!"
"Falke!" Mevala replied sharply causing the young human to tense up "it was not for nothing" she walked up to him and looked him straight in the eye "you will remember everything, everything that when through your head today" Falke had a thin layer of sweat covering his face "and when the time comes to choose whether or not to use this power to its potential I want you to remember it all, the potential of this magic is too great to give it any less."
"You say I'll have to decide whether or not to spread this knowledge?" Falke asked earning a nod from his teacher "why not you? After all you created this magic why don't you use it to bring down the Order?"
"Falke, I am an old woman" Mevala sighed heavily "by the time I perfected it I was already too old to make such choices about the future…" she smiled weakly "…such choices should be made by young men and women like yourself" the old elf walked up to Falke "still I'm glad to hear you think of me as a mother" she wrapped her arms around her student/adopted son gently.
"As am I" Victoria said softly as she rose to her feet and walked by the two Mages "I know you don't believe, but I believe that the Maker has great things in store for you Falke" she kissed the young Mage on the forehead and then kissed Mevala gently on the lips "please be careful you two."
"We will" Mevala assured her as she released Falke "we begin in the morning."
*Present Day*
"So it was First Enchanter Mevala who created that spell the apostate used on Commander Cullen" Cassandra said calmly.
"That's correct, that was the first spell that my master developed" Falke replied calmly "the way it works is that it draws power from any nearby sources of magic such as lyrium, Templars even if they haven't had a fix in a while have lyrium in their blood so when used on them it not only brings the Templar to their knees but it also recharges the Mage's mana" he took a big sip of ale "makes it the perfect counter to that damn ability of theirs to drain us of mana."
"I take it the second spell is meant…" Cassandra began.
"To counter their magic resistance, yes" Falke answered "the look in their faces is always the best part."
"Oi I've got a question for you" Sera perked up "so your teacher and that Chantry Sister had a thing goin on?"
"I wouldn't call it a 'thing' but yes they did have a relationship though they never had sex due to Sister Victoria's vow of celibacy" Falke answered rather annoyed by Sera's characterization and Cassandra seemed to disapprove "come on Cassandra, as big of a romantic as you are you should know, the best love stories always contain an element or two of the forbidden."
"I am not a romantic Inquisitor!" Cassandra insisted.
"Everyone here already knows Seeker" Varric chuckled.
"He's right you know" The Iron Bull added as he drained his stein.
Cassandra looked to Josephine for support but the younger woman simply said "it might just be the worst kept secret in Skyhold" Cassandra's face became red as a tomato as Sera simply laughed hysterically.
"So then, I presume you shared your lessons with other Mages?" Cassandra inquired wanting to change the subject.
"Everyday; as soon as my lessons were over, I shared what I had learned with Mages I trusted such as Enchanter Rion" Falke explained calmly.
"Were you trying to provoke rebellion?" Cassandra half asked half accused.
"That was going to happen regardless of what I did or didn't do" Falke stated bluntly "I just wanted to make sure we were ready, I didn't make that choice lightly, but it was the right one…"
*Year 37 of the Dragon Age*
In the years following the Qunari uprising in Kirkwall, Knight-Commander Meredith effectively took control of the city. First she crushed the Mage Underground, a loose association of apostates who practiced otherwise legal magic but simply refused to live in a Circle. As her Templars began cracking down many of them turned to blood magic out of desperation, regardless the results were the same. She then began to tighten her grip on the Circle Mages, the more she squeezed the more they resisted, and the more the Mages resisted the harder she squeezed.
At that time though there was one hope for them, Hawke. Despite Meredith's efforts she could not take direct action against him and his people because he was too ingrained with the nobility, in fact the nobles of Kirkwall by and large wanted Hawke to take over as Vicount. An idea which frightened Meredith that a Mage and lifelong apostate was more loved by the people than her and her Templars.
Hawke was a constant source of defiance against Meredith's tyranny, helping Mages flee from the Circle, building support to be named Vicount, and killing any Templars dumb enough to attack him. Turns out Hawke is what the Templars have feared more than anything else for a thousand years, a Mage who not only was not afraid but proved that Mages could be good and even great men and women despite the Templars and the Chantry.
Across Thedas his name inspired fear amongst the Templars. Amongst Mages such as myself in Ostwick and other Circles drew inspiration from his continued defiance. The sparks that Warden Amell had created were fanned into a flame by Hawke. With every day that passed tensions rose between Mages and Templars, especially in Kirkwall. But as the fear in the Templars rose, ours was replaced by hope. As time passed I came to understand what Victoria meant when she called it the most powerful force in the world, I felt it as did my brothers and sisters.
Tensions finally exploded into violence on one fateful night. An apostate named Anders blew up the Chantry killing over a hundred innocent people including the Grand Cleric. With that single act of terrorism Anders had given Meredith the opportunity she had been waiting for. Despite the fact that this was the result of a single man who she could have easily cut down then and there, Meredith invoked the right of annulment and ordered the death of every Mage in Kirkwall.
Despite the fact that it meant losing any hope of being named Vicount, despite the fact that it meant giving up the life he had worked so hard to build for nearly a decade, despite the sheer risk of dying it entailed; Hawke chose to defy Meredith. Thanks to Hawke and his companions many Mages were saved from Meredith's madness without being forced to use blood magic. Furthermore he executed Anders as punishment for the innocent people he murdered which not only granted his victims justice, but helped grant out cause legitimacy later.
Throughout the city Mages and Templars clashed spreading death and destruction across Kirkwall. Despite their years of training and their precious skills, countless Templars died in a futile attempt to stop Hawke and his companions as they defended the Mages from the brutal injustice and many escaped Kirkwall with their lives; and they did so without becoming possessed. In the end even Knight-Commander Meredith died by his hand and despite the terrible odds, Hawke and his friends all survived.
Meredith had hoped that by executing every last Mage she could put down the flames of rebellion but she only served to fan the flames. When Hawke stood up to her, he not only protected the innocent from her insane blood lust, but he showed Mages across Thedas that for all their skills and training, the Templars were not invincible. In the months and years following Kirkwall Hawke's name became a rallying cry for us in the Rebellion, a reminder that through all the hardships we faced that those who would imprison and enslave us could be defeated.
It was also a fateful year for me and the Ostwick Circle, I was twenty years old at the time and despite my youth my skills in magic and leadership amongst my fellow Mages had earned me the title of "Senior Enchanter" which next to "the Herald of Andraste" is the most ironic title I've obtained in my life thus far. Though I didn't hold that title for long.
About a month after the uprising in Kirkwall we organized a tower wide protest against the Templars. And in case you were wondering Cassandra, it was going to be a peaceful protest or at least that was the plan.
"What in the Maker's name is going on here?!" Knight Commander Abel demanded as he descended the stairwell flanked by two Templars but froze when he reached the bottom to see First Enchanter Mevala and Sister Victoria standing in front of the main hall with literally every Mage gathered with fury in their eyes and every Templar in the tower surrounding the group with their hands resting on their hilts.
I watched from the front flanked by Enchanter Rion and our fellow Mages. If the Templars knew, I suspect they would have thought twice about what happened next.
"Sister Victoria what do you think you are doing?!" Abel demanded.
"Knight-Commander I cautioned against such rash actions but the Mages have decided to protest their treatment by you and your Templars" Victoria responded with poise and grace befitting a woman of strong faith "I am simply trying to keep the peace."
"First Enchanter Mevala it is your duty to…" Abel began but was cut off by the old Elf.
"What am I supposed to do exactly?" Mevala asked sarcastically "listen to them Knight-Commander, to disperse them I'd need at least a wagon full of lyrium and some potent blood magic; my people have decided they will not be silent anymore."
Knight Commander Abel took a step back amongst the cries from the gathered Mages. Most of the cries from the crowd were for greater freedom or for the Templars to be held accountable for their actions, though there were more than a couple along the lines demanding that Abel resign his post or "give me back my baby!"
Tensions quickly rose in the hall, especially when Hawke's name was invoked. Some of the more gutsy Mages amongst us, including myself began chanting "Fuck the Templars!"
"Knight-Commander" Victoria began "I urge you and First Enchanter Mevala to sit down and talk, nobody wants to see this erupt into violence…"
"ENOUGH" Abel shouted with a surprising amount of force for a man of his age as he took two steps forward "NOW ALL OF YOU ARE TO RETURN TO YOUR QUARTERS AND GET BACK IN LINE!"
The responses to Abel's demand ranged from polite but firm "No!" to a more brazen "fuck you!" In that instant Abel made the choice that sealed the fate of almost every Templar in Ostwick.
"As Knight-Commander of Ostwick I hereby invoke the Right of Annulment…" Abel declared as he reached for his sword but was cut off when Mevala swung her staff and hit him square in the chest with a spell which sent him flying backwards.
Knight-Commander Abel must have believed that with all of us gathered in one place and surrounded by the Templars it would be as easy as having his men suppress our magic then cut us down one-by-one, unfortunately for him some of us suspected this might happen and took appropriate steps.
For one thing we made sure that the edges of the group were made up predominately of Mages who I had taught First Enchanter Mevala's Anti-Templar magic. With the Templars' suppression most, including myself fell to their knees as all of the energy in our bodies was literally drained from our beings.
But as soon as that happened we retaliated by drawing power from the lyrium in their blood. I felt like a drowning man when he reaches the surface of the water as I drained a female Templar with straw blonde hair restoring my power. Pure horror engulfed her face as every ounce of strength left her suddenly falling to her knees. With lightening surrounding my left hand I stuck two fingers in her slightly gapped mouth and blew a small whole through the back of her skull; she was the third person I killed.
As soon as she had knocked Abel back First Enchanter Mevala extended her index and middle fingers on both hands and pointed them towards the two Templars who had accompanied their Knight-Commander and with an intense white glow.
The second spell that my master had developed is designed to negate Templars' ability to shield themselves from magic. The way it works is that it takes a large portion of the user's mana and focuses it into a small but incredibly dense and potent attack. Because so much magic is concentrated into such a small projectile it's far harder for Templars to nullify, once the spell is released it explodes towards the target with such force that not even a Templar's protective abilities can slow it down. Put another way it's like shooting a knight with a crossbow using armor piercing bolts.
Mevala unleashed two blasts of pure white light from her fingers which shot towards the Templars who had already raised their shields in defense but it was all for not. The spells shot clean through the shields and their armor leaving a small hole about the diameter of a human pinky through their chests. If they weren't dead when they hit the ground, they would be soon two of the first victims of the second spell which Mevala had chosen to name "Hessarian's Spear" out of a sense of dramatic irony.
Knight-Commander Abel looked on in horror as Mages and Templars clashed with the former seeming to gain an advantage over the latter. He looked into Mevala's eyes and saw white hot fury which threatened to erase him from existence. He quickly turned and ran back up the stairs seeking reinforcements a third blast of magic just barely missed his leg.
"Leave one alive!" Mevala commanded before turning to Victoria "stay here with the others" she then looked into the crowd where I just finished blasting a whole through one the larger Templar's chests "Falke, Rion, you're with me!" she waved for us to join her.
"So it's finally come to this" Rion said with an excited breath, he was one of the few Mages who had been allowed to see the situation in Kirkwall it left him even more eager than I to see Templars brought to heel, even though he's older than me I don't think he had any idea just what kind of costs our struggle would bring…well even less than most of us did would probably be a better way to put it.
"Focus Rion" Mevala ordered as they ran up the steps after Abel as soon as they reached the top they saw two Templars running towards them who were both struck down by a blast from Falke and Rion.
Falke ran towards one of the Templars' barracks in the upper levels and threw the door open with his right hand before throwing a massive fireball inside with his left. With a loud boom five men and two women were screaming in pain as they were suddenly lit ablaze while trying to change into their armor, luckily for them their pain didn't last long.
"You have good instincts Falke" Mevala complimented as they made their way towards a narrow hall which lead to the Harrowing chamber "Rion, stand guard here be ready to kill them should they attempt to flee."
"Yes First Enchanter" Rion replied happily.
Fortunately for us, in his panic Abel didn't think to take advantage of the bottleneck created by the hall. As we neared the chamber I could swear that I smelled shit in the air. All my thoughts and amusements were brought to an abrupt end however when we made it to the chamber.
Knight-Commander Abel had hidden behind a statute just to the right as you entered the chamber and swung his sword towards my head. Thankfully my reflexes were sharp for a Mage and I was able to leap back in time to avoid losing my head. However, the tip of his sword cut into the left side of my neck drawing blood and leaving me with this scar you see today. I instinctively pressed my left hand to the wound and used a small amount of healing magic to stem the bleeding and keep the cut from widening while Mevala stepped forward and swung her staff horizontally sending the old Templar flying across the room and crashing into the wall.
I smiled in satisfaction as the old bastard fell and the sound of his armor echoed throughout the chamber but my joy was short lived as out of the corner of my eye I saw a second fully armored Templar emerge from behind the statue to the left as you entered the chamber. The sound of Mevala's spell and Abel's crash muffled his movements as he thrust his sword through my teacher's back before I could scream.
Mevala spat a small amount of blood as she fell to her knees with the sword still in her body. The Templar took a couple steps back as she turned her gaze towards him looking at his now blood stained gauntlets as his hands shook. Not since my first day in the Circle when that Templar beat me and the other children when I was six had I felt such white hot fury as that moment.
As Mevala fell to the ground I remember the old man who gave his life to save mine on that day only this was much worse, while I was grateful to him he was for all intents and purposes a stranger to me. Mevala on the other hand…she was my teacher, my mentor…and she was far more of a mother to me than that cunt who threw me away when she discovered I was a Mage. With tears in my eyes I swung my staff in an upwards motion slamming the man into the ceiling before swinging my staff downward and crashing him into the floor.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Abel get to his feet, old age and heavy armor makes it difficult to pick yourself up in these situations. He immediately charged towards me however I responded with a blast of Hessarian's Spear from my left hand which struck his right arm halfway between the elbow and wrist causing the old man to howl in pain as his sword and about a third of his right arm fell to the ground.
"Master" Falke cried out desperately as he held his teacher in his arms while blood continued to flow from her abdomen.
The old elven woman looked into his eyes and cracked a small weak smile as she cupped the right side of his face and said "you…are free…now… Da'len…" her arm went slack leaving a thin trail of blood across her adopted son's cheek as the life faded from her body and eyes closed for the last time.
Young Falke's eyes immediately darted towards Abel who had dropped his shield and was now reaching for his sword with his left hand. Within seconds Falke blew a small hole right through the old Templar's left knee cap depriving him of half of his leg causing him to fall to the ground weakly and howl in pain.
"What are you waiting for you damned Mage?!" Abel practically screeched as his helmet fell off his head "get it over with."
"After what you've done, you don't get to die cleanly" Falke said coldly but furiously as he blew a third hole about the diameter of his finger through the Knight-Commander's stomach eliciting another shriek of pain from the older man as even more blood began to flow from his wounds "for what little is left of your worthless life, I intend to watch you suffer" he hissed.
And so I stood there watching and listening as Abel swore and screamed in agony from his wounds as the life slowly drained from his body over ten minutes. This is the part of the story where I'm supposed to say that I regretted my choices to share Mevala's lessons with my fellow Mages and encouraging the protest that lead to the Rite of Annulment but that would be a lie.
While I would have gladly traded almost any life including my own for hers, on that night I and my fellow Mages finally took a stand against our Templar oppressors and fought back when they responded to our peaceful protest with blood and steel…and we won. While the costs were certainly regrettable and tragic the fact was that we took a stand for ourselves and for the first time and years, decades for many of us, we had hope…real hope.
I suppose this is also the part where I'm supposed to tell you that Abel's death brought me no satisfaction, that revenge left me feeling dead and empty inside; but again that would be a lie, especially to myself. The truth of the matter was I enjoyed every second of it. The sight of his severed limbs and the blood flowing from his stumps and stomach put the finest Orlesain frescos to shame in my eyes. The sounds of his curses and his pained screams provided roughly ten minutes of the music so beautiful it soothed even my angry soul.
But the best part of it all was his eyes. The look of sheer pain, fear, and desperation which had been our own for years had now become his as his final moments drew closer and closer. My favorite moment came just before he finally died when he fully realized that his terror, like him was over, nothing in all the world beats that look.
Author's Notes: and that's chapter 4 ladies and gentlemen, please leave a review to let me know what you think. In particular I'd like to know if that last scene made you somewhat scared of the future Inquisitor.
The character "Rion" is not mine but rather one of the multiplayer characters, like Falke or any Human Mage Inquisitor he hails from the Circle of Ostwick.
Next chapter or two will deal with Falke's experiences during the Mage Rebellion and the Conclave. A fair warning to you all in case the last couple of chapters haven't made it clear, I am a firm believer in the saying "war is hell." All and all I expect his backstory to be completed in the next two or three chapters but I am planning to give him some manner of closure…eventually, poor man. In any case please stay tuned for Chapter 5: Rebellion.
I'm also thinking of adding a little personal quest for him where he returns to Ostwick and reunites with his blood family. I've got most of the details worked out but I'm still trying to decide how I want to resolve one issue; basically I've got three ways this matter could be settled one is in a rather bitter-sweet way, an incredibly cynical way, or slightly cynical way (this is the middle option). Please check out my profile and vote in the poll.
Thank you all for reading and please leave me a review.