Joseph
Almost before the seamen could finish tying Le Présage down, the templars forced the entire crew to get off the ship and stand in a line. Ten of the tin soldiers began questioning the men, rather roughly. About twice as many marched aboard and began searching the boat, ripping through any bit of cargo they found larger than a fish barrel and spilling the contents onto the deck.
Maybe I was just paranoid, but this seemed a bit excessive.
Veau was throwing a fit. "No, no! Stop eet! Yeu're ruining my shipment! Agh! Yeu're going to hav to pay for zat!" His neck was red and bulging under his thin skin; it looked as if Veau might explode any moment. When he received no response from the knights, he ran forward and tried to pull one of them off the ship by hand.
They threw him back angrily. "You are interfering with templar business, serah."
"Yeu are interfering with moi livelihood! I'll never be able to sell zat now!"
"Stand back. We cannot risk letting any apostates into this city."
Illegal mages? Was that really what all the fuss was about?
Three templars stood apart from the rest, the only knights not actively occupied in the 'security check.' I assumed one of them must be in charge and started to approach, intending to declare myself, explain the situation, and hopefully do everyone a favor.
"You there! Where'd you get that blood stain?", one of the interrogators shouted.
Stopping, I looked down the line and saw the sailor I had mended struggling to explain himself in front of an angry, armed interrogator.
"Zere w-w-was a fight, messere. I was stabbed", the sailor explained, trembling.
"You have no wound", the templar snarled, pulling his sword from it's scabbard. My blood began to boil. If I hated anything, it was bullies. Especially self-righteous ones.
" 'ealed, it–"
"This blood is fresh."
"Yes, I–"
"Are you a mage?", he demanded, lifting the blade in his hands menacingly.
You got the feeling that answering 'yes' would bring a swift death, and 'no' a slow one. The rest of Veau's crew cowered like sheep. My fists clenched, and I had to consciously push back the magical energy that wanted to surge forth. If this was the Maker's will at work, then I was the Empress of Orlais.
"No messere!", the sailor squealed. I honestly thought he might wet himself. "I'm not–"
"Don't lie to me!" the templar interrupted again, grabbing the sailor by the collar. "If you aren't, then someone on your ship is! I will have the truth from you! You will turn them over to us, or Maker help me, I'll–"
"You'll what?", I cut in, stalking towards them. The eyes of every sailor and knight honed in on the conflict. They probably wondered if it was possible for someone to be so stupid. But I'd had my fill of templar abuse twenty years ago; I wasn't about to stand by and watch it happen without some kind of snarky protest.
The arrogant templar considered me, and dropped the sailor onto the ground. "Is there something you want to say to me, Orlesian swine?"
"Uh, do I sound like I come from Orlais to you?", I retorted, crossing my arms as if offended. "Maker's breath, if you can't tell an Orlesian hog from a Ferelden dog, how on earth could you hope to correctly identify a mage? Sloppy that is. Disgraceful, really. In fact, I might even file a complaint."
He began to stalk towards me, holding his sword ready. I suppose it was an attempt at being intimidating, except he'd been swinging the thing around for a while now and that made the whole gesture really quite pathetic. "You will give up the apostate in your midst!", he reiterated, "Harboring mages is a hanging offense!"
"So after we give him up, you hang us? Is that what you're saying?", I asked, nodding seriously, and keenly aware that I was digging myself into a hole, "Well I must say that's definitely a strong argument for turning over the 'apostate.'"
"I'll have the truth from you!", he repeated. "Willing or not!"
"Of course. How about you ask nicely, and we can cross out the 'not'?"
"Oi, Ser Strak, take it down a notch!", one of the other templars shouted.
"You should listen to your friend", I advised
"I don't take sass from smart-mouthed Fereldens", Ser Strak snarled.
"I don't take harassment from thick-headed templars."
"He's hiding something!", Strak was only a few meters away now. "There's an apostate in this lot – I'm sure of it!"
"There's no apostate!", I insisted, uncrossing my arms. "But if it makes you feel any better, there is a nice sparkly Grey Warden here with magical properties." I allowed a ribbon of blue flame to dance up my arm. He tensed and I started to explain, "My name is Joseph Amell, Grey Warden and Hero of–"
"MALEFICAR!", Ser Strak screamed, charging me. His arrogance went hand in hand with his stupidity, it would seem. What a show Knight-Commander Meredith ran.
The templar came at me like a rampaging bull – only with considerably less grace. He'd made no attempt to nullify my magic, instead seeming to be under the impression that mowing me over was the most logical plan of attack. Of course, in all the heavy steel armor, he was about as agile as blind duck.
Too easy.
My opponent swung his sword, but overextended himself in the strike. Dodging the blow was as simple as taking a step back. He staggered, completely off balance, and I gave him a good kick in the backside as he flew past. Strak fell, skidding across the stones. Probably put a few scrapes on his armor. I looked to see how many reinforcements were coming.
Most of them were looking at the three templars which stood apart, as if waiting for orders. I fixed the leaders with a meaningful glare. "As I was saying: I'm Joseph Amell, Commander of the Grey and Hero of Ferelden. I've come all the way from Orlais to speak with your Knight-Commander. I am expected. So unless you're planning on bringing the wrath of every Warden from here to the Weisshaupt down on your city, you would do well to keep your swords sheathed."
Thankfully, these templars had a little more sense. The leftmost knight in the trio came forward. He removed his helmet, revealing a young man with straw-colored hair and sky-colored eyes. "Stand down, Ser Strak. He doesn't want to fight, and Maker knows we don't need another army at our doorstep. Let the Knight-Commander see to this Warden."
Ser Strak, the one who had attacked me, was getting back to his feet. I could practically feel the glower burning behind his helmet as I strode past him. "Even you can't possibly believe he's telling the truth!", he hissed to the blonde templar.
"A lot of people go around pretending to be Grey Wardens?", I quipped.
"Stand down, Strak. That's an order." The blonde templar put a hand on his sword hilt.
Strak's reaction was difficult to gauge under his stiff armor. But finally he offered a disgruntled reply: "...Aye, Ser Keran."
Keran nodded. "This ship is clear", he waved to the knights on the ship, "Put everything back where you found it and let them through."
Veau gave me a nod, and I saluted emphatically – a gesture I'd picked up from my time in Orlais.
"Sorry about all that", my escort apologized.
"Some security check you have going", I remarked dryly, considering Keran. He seemed less… zealous than most other templars I'd met.
"Things have been tense lately", he explained awkwardly, motioning for us to start walking. "You understand."
"I suppose I do", I replied, thinking he was referring to the fact that Kirkwall hadn't had a viscount to rule it in three years, and Knight-Commander Meredith in her divine paranoia had practically taken over the city.
"Keeping Strak active in the force so soon after loosing his friends to blood mages wasn't ideal… but we're a bit tight for numbers. Most all of us have lost someone these past few days…", Keran drifted off mournfully.
This new bit of information made me wince. I had no problem stepping on the toes of zealots with too much ego. But if I'd known Strak's anger was born of grief, I wouldn't have tried so hard to humiliate him.
"I apologize for causing a scene", I offered, making a mental note to apologize to Strak in person when I got the chance. The irony wasn't lost on me.
Keran shrugged. "For all the training Meredith put us through, I don't think anyone was really prepared for this mess. It's amazing how few of the Order have been able to rise to the challenge in this chaos."
"A bit melodramatic, don't you think?"
"Maybe for a Warden."
We walked through a tunnel-like hallway into the Gallows courtyard.
Suddenly the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Magic. And not just the aura you'd expect from a mage prison, but something dark and powerful which lingered in the shadows. A sort of hushed fear hovered in the air. I searched for the source, but it appeared to emanate from the entire yard.
At first glance, the courtyard itself looked clean, except for a massive pile of rubble, broken statues and bent metal piled up indiscreetly in a cloister to the left. The wrought iron fencing around the porch above the main yard was bent and, in many places, torn clean through. Like something massive had bulled its way through. Large gaps of stone appeared to have been dislodged from the stairways. And if I wasn't mistaken, there were a number of blackened stains along the walls from fire damage. Most disturbing was that, though there were plenty of templars around, not a single mage stood to be seen. Even the stalls where Tranquil sold their wares were empty, and many were in ruins.
Silently, I took all of it in. Keran turned left and led me into a smaller yard, where he waved down a recruit. "You there! Fetch the Commander. The Grey Warden is here."
The young woman nodded quickly and vanished into the obelisk-tower. I wondered if Meredith would keep me waiting long.
"You know, you really look like her", Keran observed.
"Meredith?", I replied, turning to look at him quizzically.
"No! Er, I meant Athena. You look just like her. That's why I believed you about being the Hero of Ferelden. When you said your name was Amell, the resemblance suddenly made sense."
I racked my memory for anyone I knew who went by that name, and shared some meaningful resemblance to me. Normally I was good at remembering people. I didn't remember any Athena. "Well… thanks?", I replied, "But I don't have a clue who that is."
"Oh, sorry messere", the templar apologized, "I thought as an Amell, you'd– Well, I guess it's still not surprising. So many people only knew her as 'Hawke', and that wasn't even her last name, anymore." He chuckled, and looked at me as if this was supposed to explain everything.
"I still don't understand. How does that connect her to me?"
Now Keran looked confused. "You know about the Champion, right?"
Yes, I knew about the Champion. I'd heard so many stories about her, it was difficult to think of Kirkwall's hero as a single entity.
Patron to mages, emissary of the poor, the only one foolhardy and reckless enough to make a personal enemy of Meredith, there were a number of peculiar things said about the woman. She had come from Ferelden as a nobody-refugee during the Blight. Remarkably, she'd saved enough coin to buy into a Deep Roads expedition, actually survived the venture into the darkspawn-ridden tunnels, and returned to the surface incredibly wealthy.
Three years ago, she'd earned her title when she saved the city from an assault by Qunari forces. Their attack had robbed the city of its viscount, and the Qunari probably would have taken control if the she had not intervened. She'd battled the Arishok, the military leader, in single combat… and won.
And there were other stories, too. According to rumor, the Champion had wrestled a High Dragon to the ground with her bare hands, released an Arcane Horror in Darktown, married an apostate, and set the entire city on fire twice. Her friends consisted of pirates, vagabonds, handsome dwarves, blood-mages, priests, and ogres. Supposedly, she had more charm than a desire demon, the strength of a thousand men, seven-thousand kills to her name, and was a family-woman at heart. She also held the secret of eternal youth and kept a griffon locked up in her wine cellar.
"I've heard of the Champion, but I still don't–"
"That's her." Keran explained emphatically. "Athena was the scion of the Amell family here in Kirkwall. Leandra was her mother, Aristide was her grandfather."
It clicked. He was telling me the Champion had blood ties to the Amell family. My family. Aristide was my great-uncle, Leandra was my aunt, and that made Athena Hawke my cousin.
The epiphany must have been clear on my face. Ser Keran laughed, "Makes sense now, right?"
Then the smile faded, "I wish she was still here. She always seemed to know what to do to make things right. The city's in chaos, everyone is terrified, and it certainly hasn't done the crowd any good to find out that Athena and her friends have all fled Kirkwall. They think maybe she was personally responsible for the… Incident. That kind of betrayal breaks a spirit."
"Incident?" I'd just found out I had living relatives worth meeting, and now Keran was talking about an incident?
He nodded, giving me a sideways glance. "What with Meredith's death, Cullen's had a hard time keeping the Order in line. A lot of the older knights still hold to Meredith's ideas. I only rejoined by Cullen's request – let's face it, the Commander needs all the help he can get to keep things under control. Wish I knew the whole story, but he issued a gag order until reinforcements arrive. Trying to keep down the panic, I guess. Not like that's working. He can't very well hide the bloody mess in Hightown that used to be the Chantry. And it's no secret magic killed the Grand Cleric, or that Athena was there when it all went to the void. Now she's gone. People are going to talk. And, personally, I think the wild speculations are doing more damage than the truth would."
"Hold on, back up", I said, my stomach sinking into oblivion. "You lost me at 'Meredith's death.'"
Ser Keran's eyes narrowed, "Cullen sent for you, didn't he explain why in the letter?"
I shook my head, groaning. "Cullen didn't send for me. I'm here looking for potential Warden recruits in the Kirkwall Circle. When I took ship, Meredith was still in charge… What do you mean magic killed the Grand Cleric?"
Keran locked his fingers together nervously, "I-I guess you were at sea when it happened. The Chantry was destroyed, everyone inside was murdered. If you really don't know…"
"When was this?", I demanded.
"About a week ago."
A number of nasty words came to mind, and I had to bite my tongue hard to keep them from spewing out. For the Maker's sake, couldn't I go somewhere that wasn't bleeding with chaos for once? If it wasn't an archdemon, it was something else.
"I need to speak to Cullen", I told Keran, stalking towards the door the messenger had been sent into. "Now."
A/N:
A reviewer brought up that, as Revka and Leandra were cousins, Joseph and Athena are technically 2nd cousins. Yes, this is 100% true. I've always heard a parent's cousin called 'aunt' or 'uncle', and second cousins called simply "cousin." For these reasons Joseph does the same. That was intentional. ;D