(uchiha jinrai: Sorry, but it's less a stance and more of a hard fact at this point. I've seen LetsPlays that use Shale, and I agree that she's awesome. She's a fun character, in a deliciously gruesome way. But the fact that I've never played with her to get to know her more personally, coupled with the sheer number of characters already in the story and the fact that I'd just be shoe-horning her into an already-mapped plot, means that I would not be doing her justice, on several levels. So no, I cannot be convinced. It was worth a shot though, right?)
49. Broken Circle
Felicity prided herself at being good at puzzles. When presented a problem, she approached it like a puzzle, and was thus able to come up with a solution. This particular dilemma, however, she was beginning to think was unsolvable.
They were waiting in the Spoiled Princess, because no amount of logic, cajoling, or bribery had been able to have any effect on the Templar who guarded the ferry boat. The man simply stared at Felicity with obvious hatred, impervious to the papers she waved plainly in his face.
Marnan was tapping her fingers impatiently on the table when Leliana came in, fresh from her latest turn at trying to persuade the man. The bard came up to the table and looked between them, shaking her head in exasperation.
"I will give the Templars this: they are certainly disciplined," the Orlesian said. "I turned on wiles for him I haven't used in a long time, but he just clenched his jaw and told me to go away." The bard paused, shrugging. "He must fancy men, or something."
"A pity we're short on those," Felicity sighed. Marnan grunted distractedly, staring at her hands as if they'd done her a personal wrong. "I just don't understand. This isn't normal. He's obviously covering up for something that is happening in the Tower."
"The question is," Leliana said, "is he keeping something out, or keeping something in?"
Abruptly, Marnan stood. Wordlessly, she grabbed up her pack at the foot of the table and stalked out into the night. Curious, Felicity and Leliana followed.
The dwarf stalked straight toward the Templar, who frowned as she approached. He said, "How many times must I tell you women, the Tower is off—"
Marnan pushed him off the dock. He toppled back into the lake with a splash, and Marnan turned to the other two while he bobbed and spluttered in the dark waters of Lake Calenhad. "Diplomacy has broken down," she said simply, gesturing to the now unblocked ferry.
Leliana was giggling, and Felicity couldn't help but agree with the bard as the trio piled into the boat. The Templar spluttered and shouted in protest, but by the time he'd gotten back up onto the dock, they had pushed off and were a good fifteen feet out. His heavy armor would never allow him to follow them, and taking it off would doubtless take too much time. And further, there was no other boat the Templar could use. He was well and truly evaded, that simply.
"For such a simple plan," Felicity observed, "that certainly was effective."
Marnan cast her an incredulous look as she pulled on the oars, but Felicity did not miss her smile in the moonlight. "What part about 'I push him in the lake and we steal the boat' was a plan, exactly?"
Leliana pulled a lantern out of her own pack and lit it, illuminating the softly churning waters of the lake around them. "Sometimes the simplest plans are the best, no? It means they have less chance of something little going wrong."
Felicity nodded, seeing the logic in that.
"Now I feel foolish not to have tried it sooner," Marnan grumbled. "Serves me right for trying to be civilized."
Leliana laughed. "It can sometimes be very difficult, no?"
"And inconvenient." Marnan shook her head, still pulling on the oars.
Felicity, in the meantime, found words largely escaping her. She simply sat in the front of the boat, watching the dark silhouette of Kinloch Hold loom closer. There was something ominous about it now: dark and waiting. Even so, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was coming home.
They landed at the docks below the tower, much to the obvious surprise of the pair of Templars guarding it. The two attempted to explain the exact same things the one on the other shore had: that the Tower was off limits, and that no one was allowed inside.
Marnan simply marched them past the protesting Templars, complaining rather loudly that no one seemed to respect Grey Wardens topside. The Templars were too thrown off to force them back into the ferry boat, but they did follow closely behind as the trio marched up the steps to the Tower.
When they entered, Felicity's nose was assaulted with the familiar aromas that she hadn't even realized she'd missed. The air of the Tower was always peppered with herbal and alchemical scents, the dustiness of hundreds of books in a small area, and the stuffiness of hundreds of bodies in the same, all layered over by a subtle scent of something burning.
It made her sharply miss her old life, but at the same time, she couldn't help but detect another, newer scent among the familiar ones. It was something earthy… something thick. She couldn't guess what it was, but its presence was disconcerting. Nothing changed in the Circle Tower, not even the scents.
Felicity was pulled from her thoughts by the ringing sound of steel being drawn. Then, a blade of cold metal pressed against her throat, and Knight-Commander Greagoir's steely eyes were looking down at her.
"Have you been corrupted?" he barked, even while she heard answering weapons being drawn from her companions. "How did you get past the guards? Was it blood magic?"
"I… no! How could you think that?!" She was shocked by this turn of events. Greagoir had always remained calm and resolute in the most stressful of situations—like the incident with Jowan. This tired, overreacting Greagoir worried her even more than the lack of any mage presence in the entry hall.
There wasn't a single mage in sight, but the place was absolutely crawling with Templars.
Greagoir looked at her through narrowed eyes for one more moment, then cast a glance at her companions. Finally, he lifted his blade from her throat, but didn't sheathe it. "I'm sorry for the abrupt greeting, Miss Amell, but I can't take any chances."
That was more akin to the Knight-Commander she was familiar with. She rubbed her neck and nodded back to her companions. Marnan warily put her axe away, and Leliana's daggers disappeared. "Please, Commander, could you explain what's going on? I came expecting to be able to speak with Irving about the Blight, only to find the Tower barred."
The Templar commander pressed his lips together, finally putting his own sword away. "I'm afraid Irving is… unavailable, at the moment. As are all the mages."
Felicity swallowed, and noticed that the heavy emergency door that led from the entry hall to the rest of the Tower was barred shut. It had never even been closed before, in all the years she had lived there. It was merely supposed to be a precautionary measure, so that the Templars could guard the exit if something dangerous were to get loose in the Tower.
In fact, such a disaster would lead to a scenario that looked exactly like this.
"What's happened? Is there something in the Tower? Did you leave the mages in there with it?!"
He raised a hand to cut off her increasingly incredulous questions. "As a matter of fact, the mages are what we're keeping in. The Circle has been corrupted by blood magic, releasing all manner of demonic forces upon the Tower. Every mage beyond those doors is a risk, and I will die before I let it spread beyond this Tower."
Marnan stared at the inner doors with a frown. "So there are monsters in there? Why not just kill them and save the mages?"
"Because the monsters are the mages, Marnan," Felicity said, feeling faint as the enormity of the disaster dawned on her. "Demons corrupt the living, much like the Taint does. The difference is that demons are drawn to magi, because we have a strong connection to the Fade… we're easily possessed. When a demon possesses a mage, the mage is… transformed into something called an abomination. And once a demon is joined with a soul as an abomination, the only reliable means of separating them is death."
Marnan looked decidedly paler. "So the creatures in there would be innocent mages?"
"Innocent no longer," Greagoir said, "if demons have corrupted them."
"This was caused by blood magic?" Felicity asked quickly. "How? Who?"
"Uldred," Greagoir growled. "The bastard led a coup… he must have been brewing the thing for years, and saw his chance after so many Templars died at Ostagar. He certainly overwhelmed us at first; I'll give him that. But we will not be put down so easily; justice will be served, and soon."
Leliana asked softly, "What does that mean?"
"I've sent a request for the Right of Annulment from Denerim."
Felicity gasped, horrified, and Leliana let out a soft, "Oh no..."
Marnan looked sharply between the two of them. "What is that?"
Felicity could barely say it, but forced it out. "They're going to purge the Circle!"
"Purge?" Marnan eyed Greagoir sharply. "As in kill the entire Circle of Magi?"
"It is a necessary action," Greagoir said calmly, glaring at both women, "when a Circle is irredeemable."
"But isn't Irving in there?" Felicity squeaked. "And the other senior enchanters?! What if they're still alive?!"
"I can't take that chance!" In the shout, Greagoir showed just how much this ordeal was wearing him down. He took a deep breath and gathered himself before addressing the women again. "The Circle is lost, Miss Amell. Simply thank the Maker you weren't in there as well."
Unbidden, tears came to Felicity's eyes, thinking of all the people who had been in there. The enchanters… her peers… roommates and study partners… she had never been close to many of them, true, but she had known them all, in the way that people who lived together tended to know one another. Their faults and strengths were familiar to her, and it was their presence that made this home. She could not let them be annulled.
Felicity clenched her fists, and she blinked her tears away. "No. No, you can't do this."
"Miss Amell, you are not thinking clearly-"
"Of course I'm not! You're threatening to kill my peers and mentors!" Anger sparked in her: a true righteous fury that was as vicious as it was slow to stir. "I refuse to believe that every mage in the Tower succumbed to the demons. The Harrowing is designed to weed out such people, after all. Thus, it only stands to reason that there must be survivors, clean of the demonic taint, and that such survivors would be capable of helping to cast out the abominations."
"The problem is that there's no way of knowing who is safe and who isn't," Greagoir said with narrowed eyes. "We're dealing with blood magic, Miss Amell. Not only are blood mages indistinguishable from their fellows, but they also have the means by which to enthrall anyone who might disagree."
"And so you'd rather kill the lot of us and be done with it?" Felicity got in the Knight-Commander's face, challenging him with a finger to his chestplate. "Templars claim to protect us mages from ourselves, so is this what you call protection? Or are we merely your prisoners, meant to exist quietly in our tower while the world forgets we exist, with you the ever-watchful guard-dogs just waiting for the excuse to pounce on our throats? I've never believed such things before, but your speed at seeking the right to Annul the Tower can have no other logical conclusion than that you value our lives below your own. But you tell me, Knight-Commander of the Templars: what are you without us? Just some Chantry choir boy with a pointy stick, that's what!"
With a huff, Felicity whirled away and stalked toward the door leading into the Tower. She heard someone give a low whistle, but nonetheless heard Marnan and Leliana fall into step behind her.
"Blast it, Miss Amell! If you go through that door, we are locking it behind you!"
"Then you'd better pray that I do find some survivors, if you don't want three more deaths on that quagmire you call a conscience."
The Knight-Commander was silent as Felicity reached the door, and the Templars beside it stepped aside after a quick glance at him.
Heavy footsteps came up behind them, and Felicity turned her glare on the Knight-Commander. He matched it.
"Irving," Greagoir said. "If you find Irving, and he tells me himself that the Tower is safe, I will call off the Right of Annulment. I will only accept the word of the First Enchanter."
Felicity nodded, glad to have that much compromise, at least. "Irving, then." The heavy doors were opened for them, and the three women stepped through.
The doors shut behind them with a note of finality. Felicity suppressed a shiver, staring back at the unyielding steel.
"That was… amazing!" Leliana said. "The way you stood up to him!" She shook her head with a smile.
Marnan eyed her as well. "I have to admit, seeing that finally made me realize why Duncan picked you. You've got a backbone of steel under all that flower-picking and useless knowledge, don't you?"
Felicity felt her face heat up in a blush. "Well, I couldn't just let him kill all the mages, could I?"
"No," Marnan said, smiling. "You couldn't have. Come on: let's go save us some survivors."
And when Marnan spoke of survivors, Felicity wasn't thinking of looking for only mages. There was a certain young Templar who she hadn't seen in the front hall, and that frightened her more than it really should have.
As it turned out, they didn't have to go far to find the first survivors—there was a cluster of them at the end of the hallway, ranging from tender apprentices of ten, to Harrowed mages, to white-haired Wynne. A glowing barrier blocked the single door leading into the rest of the Tower.
"Wynne!" Felicity ran up to the senior enchanter, relief bringing tears to her eyes to see her mentor healthy and—more importantly—unpossessed.
The elderly mage turned to her with pinched eyes, showing the same weariness that Greagoir had, even as Felicity enveloped her in a hug. "Felicity? My dear, what are you doing here?"
"Grey Warden business, technically," Marnan said wryly. She nodded cordially to the mage. "It's good to see you well, enchanter."
"And you, Marnan." Wynne extracted herself from Felicity's grip. "Though I can't imagine why the Wardens would wish to enter the Tower at so perilous a time, we could certainly use the aid." She turned to Leliana and forced a weak smile through her obvious exhaustion. "Hello. I don't believe we've met. I'm Wynne."
The bard smiled warmly. "So I'd gathered. I am Leliana. I travel with the Wardens, though I am not one myself."
"They stand for a good cause," Wynne said, a real smile flickering across her features. "Even so… Felicity, should you not be out battling the Blight?"
Felicity couldn't find the words to explain, so Marnan said, "We would if we could, but Ostagar decimated all the forces that would have fought beside us against it. We came here to recruit more allies." Marnan frowned, looking over the huddling collection of mages. "It seems such allies will be scarcer and harder to come by than we'd hoped."
"Have no fear, Marnan," Wynne said. "Even if our numbers are depleted, we mages are strong. Even a handful of us can turn the tide of the war."
Marnan smiled. "So have I learned. If we dwarves had mages like you surfacers do, we'd never have lost the thaigs. Though I suspect the ancient cities would have been a great deal more scorched."
Wynne chuckled. "And how is young Mage Surana faring? I can't help but notice that he is not with you."
Felicity smiled wryly. "He opted to search for the Dalish elves instead. He… wasn't particularly eager to return to the Tower."
Wynne's own smile saddened. "No, I don't suppose he would be. Still, it is good to know that he is alive, at least. We lost a great deal many good mages at Ostagar. Not as many as the Templars or the Wardens, but we hardly left unscathed before Loghain's deception became apparent."
Leliana asked, "Then you do not believe the story that the Wardens betrayed the king?"
"How could I? I am old, not blind." Wynne sighed. "Even so, there is little we can do about it, now that the Templars have locked us in here."
"I'm surprised you got past the Templars," said one of the other mages, Petra. The red-headed mage nodded cordially to Felicity in greeting—they'd never had any reason to dislike one another, before. "Last any of us heard, they'd barred the door."
"Truth be told, Greagoir let us in," Felicity admitted, drawing curious looks all around. "It was… a one-way trip."
"Oh, Felicity," Wynne sighed.
"I couldn't just sit by! Not when he…" she cut herself off, looking at the assembled survivors. A dozen eyes around the room watched her, and she swallowed. Then, she raised her voice, because they all had the right to know. "Knight-Commander Greagoir has sent for the Right of Annulment."
Whispers, both fearful and angry, broke out over the room. Exclamations of disbelief and surprisingly creative curses filled the air for a time, until Felicity raised a hand and cleared her throat. Slowly, the din died down.
"There is one hope. Greagoir said that if Irving tells him the Tower is safe from demons, he'll call off the Right." Felicity turned uncertainly to Wynne. "You don't happen to know whether he's even alive, do you?"
Wynne chuckled. "Oh, I have no doubt that old devil's still kicking, somewhere. It should only be a matter of finding him."
"And killing abominations along the way," Marnan put in, a hand on her axe handle.
"That as well. Come, we should leave at once." Wynne picked a pack up off the ground and grabbled an enchanter's staff that was leaning against a wall. "It should take more than a week yet for the messenger to get to Denerim and back, even if Greagoir sent it out as soon as the Tower fell. Nonetheless, we shouldn't waste any more time than necessary."
"Wynne," Petra said fretfully, "are you sure you're up to this? After what happened…"
"I am hardly made of porcelain, Petra. Watch over the younger mages. We will return."
Felicity bit her lip, carrying not a few reservations herself about having the elder woman join them. Even so, she nodded and followed Wynne as the elder let down the barrier that led into the rest of the Tower.
