Alistair was aware of the position he was in but didn't look at the people pointing a variety of weapons in his direction. He stared into Elissa dark eyes and refused to look away. The seconds dragged on during their silent battle of wills, either she would order the attack or she wouldn't. Alistair silently implored her to hear him out. If she would only hear what he had to say he was sure she would agree he had no choice but to come to her.
Elissa was furious. After months of waiting and hoping he would come back she had finally decided to let it go and focus on her duty as Commander of the Grey Wardens. And now he comes back? NOW?! Zevran cleared his throat next to her, bringing her back into the moment. Sighing she dropped her arms from in front of her chest,
"Fine. Say what you came here to say, but this had better be good," she turned, gesturing to the others to lower their weapons.
"Elissa..." Alistair murmured,
"Don't Alistair, just don't." Elissa said quietly, turning her back on him.
"Who's that?" she distinctly heard Nathaniel whisper to Oghren,
"Don't ask kiddo," he replied, "Seriously, don't ask." She smirked in his direction and went back to the fire, finished her tankard of ale and passed it to Oghren for a refill only then did she nod for Zevran and Alistair to join them. Alistair caught Zevrans eye and shrugged, first hurdle over, he felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. Okay, here comes the easy part, he thought ruefully and keeping an eye on Oghren joined the hostile group.
"Okay," Elissa said, "I'm listening" Alistair looked pointedly around the fire at the others then back at Elissa hoping she would get the hint, she just raised a brow back at him in silent challenge, daring him to ask for privacy. Alistair sighed, resigned to the fact he would have an audience for his story after all but slightly pleased they could still communicate without having to say a word.
"It's a long story," he started, "I'm no bard but I'll do my best..."
Alistair had been in a sorry state for quite some time after the defeat of the archdemon. Frequenting various taverns of diminishing reputation feeling sorry for himself. Looking doubly hard at every woman with black hair and black eyes that he saw. Once or twice he'd even considered trying to find some peace in the arms of one of them but never did. It would just be a pale imitation. It got to a point that every tavern that wasn't packed to the rafters with scum started to make it very clear that he and his coin were no longer welcome so Alistair had started to venture out of Denerim and into the surrounding countryside. Travelling by day and spending his evenings at Inns, most nights with his head down on a bar table, not even capable of making it to his room.
It was in an Inn such as this where he shared the bar with a rowdy group of Templars. It was on the road to Orlais and the Templars had been sent to catch any apostates attempting to flee there from Fereldan. They had been in the area for awhile by the sounds of things, boasting about how many apostates they'd captured. Alistair had done his best to ignore them and kept to himself in a corner, quietly drinking as he did every night. The affairs of Templars was none of his business any more.
Late that night, once the bar was empty and the tavern keeper had retired for the evening Alistair found himself shaken awake. He'd fallen asleep at the table, tankard still in hand. Someone had thoughtfully thrown a blanket over his shoulders and his first instinct was to just go back to sleep.
"Alistair," a voice roughly whispered in his ear, "Andrastes ass Alistair! Wake up." Now that got his attention. He hadn't used that name since Fereldan, preferring to travel under a false name hoping less people would recognise him for who he really was. Lifting his heavy head from the table he looked up to see one of the Templars from earlier.
"Exactly how much of this stuff have you had Alistair?" he asked, squinting into the tankard and pulling a face, "this stuff will kill you."
"I'm sorry," Alistair said, "but who are you? And what business is it of yours what I drink?" Alistair looked into the Templars face, he did look a bit familiar now he thought about it. Did they meet at the Circle? The Templar was older than Alistair by quite a few years. Grey just dusted his temples but his eyes were alert and the hand that shook him strong.
"You may not remember me Alistair but I'd know you anywhere. The Templar that became a Grey Warden. I was part of the Chantry when you were a boy, taught you a bit of sword play. My name is Ser Geoffrey Martel and I think I may need your help. Come, lets get some fresh air."
Alistair and Geoffrey headed outside, the cool sea breeze helping to clear Alistair's head and allowed him to think clearly.
"Yes, I think I do remember you," he said once they'd walked down the coast a little. Geoffrey seemed concerned about being overheard, "although I don't know what you think I could help you with. I'm clearly no longer with the Templars, as you seem to remember and I've seen no apostates in the area."
Geoffrey looked around, making sure they hadn't been followed Alistair assumed. What could he be so concerned about Alistair wondered.
"Alistair, there isn't much time. I will soon be missed and I don't know if I will ever get an opportunity like this again. Please listen to me. There is something very wrong at the circle. At all the circle of magi I think. The Templars once lived beside the mages, we were there only if something went wrong. The mages understood the necessity of it, or at least they seemed to. No true mage wants to become an abomination, they would beg for our swords first. But since the circle at Fereldan lost control...well lets just say that many of my order are not willing to let something like that happen again."
"But the Fereldan circle is fine! I was there. The blood mages were defeated, order was restored and First Enchanter Irving was put back in charge. Even Knight-Commander Greagoir was satisfied with the outcome." Alistair protested.
"That is not good enough for some in my order I'm afraid. There are Templars that insist we need to prevent these things from happening with force, brutal force in some circumstances. They say the mages that resist are obviously hiding their true nature and will turn on us all. The more restrictions and punishments the Templars inflict upon the mages the more the mages resist and so the problem keep worsening. Whenever a mage breaks and turns to forbidden magic or fights back the more it reinforces the notion that all mages are dangerous and only adds fuel to the fire. The Templars that share this belief grow in number with every such incident." Geoffrey looked around them again, peering into the dark for any signs they were being overheard.
"But this is only the beginning of the tale. There is some darker conspiracy at work here. I know it. The rite of Tranquillity has become a punishment for mages that the Templars even suspect may have broken a rule. And worse, there have been rumours of Templars using lyrium branding on mages, I do not know what the purpose of such a thing could be, the lyrium branding would only make the mage more powerful. It makes no sense but the rumours are there." Geoffrey paused to give Alistair time to take it all in.
"The circle at Ferelden seems to be out of immediate danger, for now. The rumours seem to be coming from a tower in Halanshiral, in The Dales. Please, Alistair. Something needs to be done before more lives are lost. I cannot be seen to be turning on the Templars, they would brand me a traitor and possibly execute me. I know you are a Grey Warden, that you once travelled with the Hero of Ferelden. There must be something you can do."
Alistair was stunned into silence. He had heard of Templars trying to abuse their power before but this...could this really be true?
"Ser Geoffrey, I understand your position. I do. But I cannot act on rumour alone. Do you have any proof of the things you claim?"
Geoffrey pulled a piece of folded paper from the inside of his armour.
"Here. This is all I have. It's not proof of the lyrium branding but it is orders from the Knight-Commander of Halanshiral demanding that all apostates, no matter where they are found, are to be brought straight to his tower. There has never been an order like this before. We have always taken apostates to the nearest tower that has room. It can help the mages to have people around them that started life in the same places they themselves did. I'm afraid I can be no more help than this."
Alistair took the paper, it was indeed as Geoffrey had said, the Knight-Commanders seal branded the order. He took a deep breath. This was more than just a few Templars.
"Thank you Ser Geoffrey, I will do what I can." Alistair had no idea what that might be exactly but this could not be allowed to continue.
"Maker bless you my friend," Geoffrey said, "Maker bless you. It pains me to turn on my brothers in such a way, but I cannot stand by any longer. I only hope it is not too late to put a stop to this madness."
And with that Geoffrey turned and quickly went back the way he had come to the inn.
Alistair stood rooted to the spot for some time. The order that Geoffrey had left in his hand blowing in the wind. What was he to do now? Could he really take the word of a man he hadn't seen in such a long number of years? But if he wasn't to act at all then could he live with himself if it was true and he'd done nothing? This is why I don't lead, he thought to himself. The first order of business, it seemed, would be to investigate the Circle Tower at Halanshiral but Alistair didn't even know where that could be. The Dales were not a small place. And what would he do? Just knock on the Tower door and ask the nearest Templar if any experiments on mages were taking place on the premisses? Alistair laughed at himself. Turning he followed Geoffrey's path back to the Inn. One thing was certain, if he was going to do something then he wasn't going to be much good on his own.
Back in his room he started getting ready to leave, if he was going back he may as well get started. Rummaging into the bottom of his pack his fingers closed over something hard. Pulling it out to get a look he realised it was his mothers amulet. If Elissa were here she'd know exactly what to do, he thought, or at least make a decision either way. She wouldn't stand here frozen by indecision, unable to act. He put the amulet around his neck, tucking it carefully under his armour and threw the rest of his possessions into his pack. He knew what he had to do.