Happy New Years! Lets hope 2021 is better than 2020 (the bar is so low).

Chapter 14

The Declaration of Mage Rights

"This is an outrage! A blasphemous document that spits in the very face of the Maker Himself!"

There was no calming the Knight-Commander, so First Enchanter Irving remained silent and allowed Greagoir to vent. Was it still proper to think of himself as First Enchanter? Probably not once this unpleasantness was over. The mages were allowed to select their own First Enchanter, one of the few true choices they could make, but Irving doubted that would continue once the Circle was retaken.

So, Irving sat in his cushioned faldstool chair, sipping his delightfully spiced ginger tea from Antiva, and listened to Greagoir shout about the audacity of mages declaring themselves free of the Chantry and pledging themselves to the Crown of Ferelden. If it weren't for the noise outside – the cacophony of armor strutting about, horses, and general noises of camp life – it would seem much like his old life in the Tower. Was someone claiming his old desk, searching through his files and private library? Victor was a good sort but five months in the dungeons had hardened him. This declaration of mage rights was laced full of references to the Maker – a very Victor thing to do – but the underlying principles of it were Libertarian in nature.

Ah Victor Amell. The most promising pupil Irving had seen in a long time. Irving had been grooming him to become First Enchanter one day. His religious zeal was a bit much at times, but would help with the Templars. No inconvenient accusations of blood magic could be leveled against him. Irving himself payed all the customary and expected deference to the Maker and His Prophet, but was privately an ardent atheist. To him, Andrastianism was just the most successful of the cults to fill the vacuum of religious belief created by the First Blight. If Andraste was not such a successful military commander, who knew what Thedas would be worshiping that day. Perhaps they would all be praising Korth the Mountain Father?

Irving also though the Tevinters had the right of things by labelling Andraste a powerful mage, but that was something he would never ever say out loud to anyone.

"And why has Grand Cleric Elemena not responding to my missives?" Greagoir ranted, addressing Irving directly as if he had secret communication with Her Grace. "She must have received them by now! Perhaps the mages are interfering with them somehow?"

"I highly doubt that Greagoir." Irving soothed. "They have not left the island or else we would have seen."

"Well someone must be leaving! How else have they not run out of food and other supplies?"

Irving remained silent, giving Greagoir a look of feigned ignorance. Privately Irving could guess the Mage's Collective or the Carta was supplying them. As First Enchanter, Irving was aware of all the comings and goings in the Tower. He knew all about Godwin and Maron's activities on the nights of the new moon but remained silent. The Mage's Collective served an important function for a Circle: providing mages an outlet to feel as though they were defying the Templars. Irving wasn't going to betray that secret. It would only cause more harm to mages across Ferelden.

But Greagoir was at the end of his rope. Every day he spent on the shores of Lake Calenhad while the mages of the Circle thrived without Templar oversight was like a punch to the gut for the grizzled Templar. But he would not act without Grand Cleric Elemena's approval. It was the only thing keeping the mages alive.

Not all the Templars felt the same way. A small band of them had "commandeered" two rowboats from the local fishermen and rowed across to the island, intent on sneaking into and doing… well Irving wasn't quite sure what their plan was. In any event it was a failure. It appeared the mages had repurposed the Sentinels in the tower and set them to guard duty. The Templars were held off by them and then knocked out by the mages who came to investigate.

Fortunately, none of the Templars had been killed, only sent back across the lake with their tails between their legs. Greagoir had been furious and each of the Templars was sentenced to corporal punishment. The leader of their gang, the novice Templar Cullen, was unrepentant and continued to rave how the mages were abominations in disguise.

"Regardless, if I do not hear from the Grand Cleric soon, then I will have no choice but to go outside of Ferelden for assistance." Greagoir muttered.

"Where?" Irving asked, trying to sound coolheaded. "Surely not Orlais?"

"Do you take me for a fool, Irving? To invite Orlais into Ferelden now would be insanity! No, I will reach out to Kirkwall. They are closest and can easily send a contingent of Templars south to deal with this matter."

Kirkwall. That boded ill. Irving had met a few mages from Kirkwall's Circle while in attending the College of Magi in Cumberland. Kirkwall's First Enchanter, Orsino, was a smart, dedicated elf, but his job seemed akin to attempting to hold back an avalanche with a wooden shield.

Kirkwall sounded like the worst sort of Circle, with its Free Marches compatriot Starkhaven in a close second. Kirkwall's Knight-Commander was crazed zealot by all accounts, and wielded the Tranquil brand with as much responsibility as an apprentice mage first learning how to cast. If Greagoir was to send for her, Knight-Commander Meredith would probably put the whole Circle to the sword. It wouldn't be the most outlandish thing she had done with impunity.

"Then let us pray to the Maker for Her Grace to respond to you." Irving replied. "Soon."

It was the most bizarre document Teagan had ever received. Mages demanding to be free of the Chantry and pledging themselves to the Crown of Ferelden. Normally, such a thing would be laughed off, consumed as gossip for parties and nothing would come of it. But it was not a normal time, and as any fool who thought himself clever would say, chaos presented opportunity.

For Ferelden truly was in chaos. The most obvious threat was the Darkspawn, who were still spewing forth from the Korcari Wilds. They had moved north to sack Lothering and then rushed westward to overtake the Arling of West Hills. Arl Wulff had passed through Redcliffe a fortnight ago, a broken man mourning the loss of his Arling and his four sons. He was off to his estate in Denerim, unsure where else to go.

"There were so many of those creatures." Wulff had muttered into his seventh cup of brandy that evening. The dutiful and jovial man reduced to a shadow of his former self. Even his piercing blue eyes seemed have lost their spark. "Ferelden is doomed. The Maker has forsaken us."

Teagan had feared the Darkspawn would be upon Redcliffe soon, but none came. The scouts reported decreased activity from the Darkspawn, perhaps due to the first snowfall. Did the Darkspawn winter like a normal army? Who knew. Perhaps the Wardens did.

Nor were things faring better in the world of the mundane. The civil war, for it truly was a war now, raged in Ferelden. To the north, the Teyrnir of Highever was a hotspot of violence. Banns still loyal to the Couslands stood against the treasonous Rendon Howe as best they could, but resolve were breaking. Howe had the ear of Loghain now and an unseemly amount of wealth to buy off prominent freeholders and hire mercenaries to intimidate or kill the rest. The Arling of Amaranthine, the seat of Howe's power, had always been wealthy, but it was hard to believe it was able to finance such a strong force during the current political climate. The Sovereigns was coming from somewhere else and Teagan could not guess the source. There was a great deal of wealth in Highever and Teagan had no doubt that Howe had sold much of it once he finished wiping the blood of the Couslands off it. Teagan had reached out to the Bann's in opposition of Howe and received scattered support from them. For now, their concern was holding off Howe, Loghain could wait.

Not that Howe was doing well amongst his fellow nobles. Many were still shocked by the massacre on Highever, which killed the popular Teyrn Bryce and Teyrna Eleanor Cousland, their nineteen-year-old daughter, their Antivan daughter-in-law, and eight-year-old nephew. Meanwhile, the heir, Fergus Cousland, was missing, presumed killed by Darkspawn in Ostagar. It was a brutal, bloody affair and none except Loghain and Howe's sycophants were inclined to overlook. Now, Rendon Howe was claiming not only to be a Teyrn but also Arl of Denerim.

For the Kendall line was extinguished and Denerim had no leader. Arl Urien, a wheezy and ill-tempered man, was killed at Ostagar and his heir, the repugnant Bann Vaughn, had been killed as well. The circumstances around Vaughn's death were salacious and Teagan had heard all the rumors while he was in Denerim. Apparently, Vaughn had interrupted a wedding in the Alienage and taken the brides and maids of honor back to his estate for… "entertainment." The elves did not submit blindly to being raped and carved a bloody trail through the Arl of Denerim's estate, killing Vaughn along the way. Some doubted the claim though, finding it hard to credit elves with the strength to overwhelm an Arl's estate.

Regardless, Howe had led a bloody purge of the Alienage in retribution and was firmly in control of two Arlings and roughly half a Teyrnir. What was Loghain thinking allowing Howe so much power?

And now they had the "Mage Declaration of Rights" to deal with. Teagan's only reassurances on this was Warden Gytha. She had met with the Knight-Commander and the Circle leaders – this… Council of Magi – and reported that the mages were good people and not something to be feared. They were eager to do their duty and fight the Blight, and had been more than happy to save Connor and thus Redcliffe.

Oh Maker, Connor… Isolde was still inconsolable that her son was already taken, but Teagan thought it for the best. If the Connor had not been the son of Eamon, Teagan knew the boy would not have left Redcliffe alive. The surviving knights of Redcliffe refused to even mention the Connor's name. Their loyalty to Eamon was damaged and Eamon would have much prove to make the knights and people of Redcliffe trust him once more.

Maker, he prayed Gytha was on the right track. She had stopped and spent the night in Redcliffe a week ago, resupplying and updating Teagan of her search for the Urn. She had travelled to Denerim and located Brother Genitivi's home, only to find a sketchy man pretending to be his assistant and claiming no knowledge of his whereabouts. Gytha had dealt with him and discovered an unknown village called "Haven" in the Frostbacks where Genitivi seemed to think the Urn of Sacred Ashes was.

All of his faith, all of Ferelden's faith, was now placed in an exiled dwarven princess turned Grey Warden. How odd the Maker was with His plan.

Teagan still wasn't sure what to make of Gytha. He would have preferred to see Alistair leading, but for some reason Alistair wasn't inclined to assert his rights as Senior Warden. Gytha was certainly competent and, Teagan had to admit, a true leader. He liked to think he helped protect Redcliffe, but village had been doomed until Gytha arrived and showed the downtrodden Redcliffe villagers how to fight and organize a proper militia. She brought all her knowledge of fighting Darkspawn in the Deep Roads with her and thanks to her the village and the castle were saved. The people of Redcliffe respected Teagan for standing with them, but everyone knew it was Gytha and the Grey Wardens whom they owed their survival.

It was only one of many acts the Gytha was doing to protect the reputation of the Wardens from Loghain's lies. Refugees came into Redcliffe from the West Road, spreading stories about how Gytha had saved them from roaming packs of Darkspawn. Gytha told Teagan she had performed similar acts all up the West Road, and even used a group of thankful refugees to sneak into the Denerim. While a proper response against Loghain's slander was slow amongst the nobility, Gytha had been quietly turning the common folk and freeholders away from him.

Once more, Teagan looked over the Declaration, Gytha's words coming back to him.

"The Mages are Grey Warden allies. We will respect that. Once the Blight is over however… well that's none of your concern, is it?"

The Denerim Grand Cathedral was hardly "Grand", but Grand Cleric Elemena had done her best to at least make her quarters live up to the title. It certainly did not compare to the opulent Orlesian grandeur of her predecessor, Grand Cleric Bronach, but Elemana and the Ferelden's who visited her waiting room and private study did not view that as a negative. For any foreign visitors, well, she had some nice Orlesian silks and tapestries she could hang up.

Her study and solar were respectable and perfectly humble for the representative of the Maker, Andraste, and Her Divine. Scented candles from Nevarra filled the air, a pleasant change from the powerful incenses that were constantly smoking in the nave of the Cathedral. Comfortable couches and chairs with plump cushions greeted visitors, respectable plates of Ostwick which had painted religious imagery lined the walls, and as the center piece, a beautiful triptych of Andraste and her Disciples. It was a perfectly calm and humble setting.

But today, the mood was anything but relaxed. Grand Cleric Elemena sat on her couch reading over this Declaration of Mage rights and subsequent demands. Standing next to her, heads bowed in respect, were Sisters Lillete and Mallory, waiting for the Grand Cleric's response.

"This is unexpected." Elemena stated simply.

Unsure how to respond to that, Sister Mallory asked, "What are your wishes, Your Grace?" Her voice a little close to a shout. Elemena had become hard of hearing in her later years, much to her own embarrassment.

"For you to leave the Knight-Commander and I. Fetch a quill and ink so I may dictate my response. No, ask Sister Justine to come instead with quill and ink. Her handwriting is far superior."

Meekly, both sister's bowed and exited the room, leaving her alone with Knight-Commander Tavish. A good man, if a bit eager. He stood off to the side, looking out a window with stain glass framing that overlooked Denerim's Market District. How Elemena wished she had a better view. For such a devout people, Ferelden's Grand Cathedral was practically a hovel compared to the humblest of Chantry's in other nations. Still, the members of the Ferelden Chantry more than made up for it. Elemena found them dedicated and hard working women and men who, unlike in Orlais or Nevarra, were not forced into it by noble families looking to send away younger children. Those children typically created issues.

Plenty of small children were also given to the Chantry – orphans and half-breeds abandoned by their elven parents after a dalliance – and Elemena made sure all were given proper education and a future in the Chantry. Tavish himself had been an orphan, his father and mother both killed while fighting the Orlesians. He had followed in their footsteps and became a warrior, though Elemena was proud he fought for something worthier than worldly matters. He had distinguished himself and was now in command of all Templar forces in the Arling's of Denerim, Amaranthine, and South Ridge – a difficult position given the current civil war.

"It seems Knight-Commander Greagoir has lost all control." Elemena began, tossing the Declaration aside.

"It is very unlike him." Tavish replied, standing at attention. "Greagoir trained me himself and he is the most honest of our Order."

"I am surprised have not heard anything from him." Elemena mused. "Even when the Circle fell he sent us no notice. Could his mind be…"

"No, Your Grace. Knight-Commander Greagoir would never continue his duties if he thought he was near the end of his tenure." Tavish quickly insisted, eager to be off the subject. It wasn't polite to speak about the addiction lyrium caused or how it would eventually melted the mind of the users.

"Then we must consider other explanation. I do not believe Greagoir simply 'forgot' to write."

"Such as, Your Grace?"

Elemena gave him a soft, understanding smile. Children of the Chantry could be so ignorant of the world. Elemena herself was born during the height of the Occupation and had seen her fair share of it. When she was old enough at fifteen, her wealthy merchant parents had been able to secure her a position as a hand maid to a snobby Orlesian lady who spent all her time complaining of Ferelden and demanding that her and her husband return to their Lake Celestine Château just outside of Val Firmin. Eventually she got her way and Elemena had fled to the Chantry, taking vows and never turning back. But her four years in the noble's household had taught her more than enough about politics and helped her get where she was today.

"Perhaps someone intercepted the missive for their own purposes?" Elemena proposed, already knowing she was right.

Tavish stood still as a statue in his Silverite armor. "But who would interfere with the Chantry like that? The mages?!"

Elemena shook her head, not sharing her own thoughts. It was clear Regent Loghain was behind it. The man had posed no end of problems for the Chantry in Ferelden. What was his game though? Was he supporting the mages under the table? It would explain how they had fended for themselves for so long. Loghain had already fled from Ostagar, supported Howe in his conquest of the north, and generally shown little respect for any of the nobility. That he might aid the mages and ignore the danger they posed to all of Thedas didn't seem so far fetched.

Unfortunately she could not discuss these plots with Tavish, who made a poor partner for playing politics. In fact, most of the clergy of the Ferelden Chantry was. But after the idiotic machinations of her predecessor, it did not surprise her that the triumvirate of Loghain, Queen Rowan, and King Maric had carefully overseen the Chantry to prevent Orlais from using it to gain a foothold in the country.

Not that the Divine or the Chantry bureaucracy seemed to mind. While Elemena enjoyed being the only Grand Cleric and thus the highest ranking clergy member in Ferelden, it spoke to Ferelden's low political ranking in the Chantry Hierarchy that it only had one Grand Cleric. The Teyrnirs of Highever and Gwaren really should each have a Grand Cleric of their own, but Divine Beatrice III was adamantly against it. Limiting the number of Grand Clerics was the easiest way for the Divine to show her displeasure and thus silencing their voice during the election of a new Divine and during any debates the College of Clerics conducted. The only other nation to have the dishonor of just one Grand Cleric was Rivaini, and they were practically a heretical nation with their seers and Qun lovers.

"I have no doubt the Regent will be summoning me to discuss this matter." Elemena continued. "I must be able to show him we are taking steps to mitigate this uprising. Ferelden is already engulfed in Civil War and darkspawn incursion. We cannot allow mages to be added to growing list of problems."

"What are you orders, Your Grace?" Tavish asked, eager to serve.

"First, we shall revoke the license of all mages currently serving in noble households." Elemena began. "Have your Templars sent out to collect them and bring them to Denerim. We can hold them beneath the Cathedral with Templar guards. No doubt the Circle Mages are working with them in some aspect. Second, we will send a missive to Grand Cleric Elthina to apprise her of the situation. That will help get the word to other Templars to be cautious to prevent similar uprisings. Third, we must begin a purge of criminal elements related to magic. I read your biweekly report, Knight-Commander. Black market enchantments have been popping up?"

"Yes, Your Grace. We are unaware of their source."

That was a serious problem. While enchantments and runes were a more stable form of magic, it was by the authority of the Chantry that those gifts were bestowed on the good people of Ferelden. That there was also money to be lost thanks to black market enchantments was also something to consider, especially in such a volatile time.

'Maker… let us hope the Seekers do not become involved.' She thought.

"Then use what discretion you see fit to track these sources down and deliver justice. If anyone gives you trouble, inform them that anything related to magic is subject to Chantry control by Order of the Grand Cleric."

"Yes, Your Grace." Tavish responded and dropped to his knee for her blessing. Once that was given, he departed. The Grand Cleric was confident in his skills to track down the sources. The Chantry was far more aware of Apostates than they thought, and those Apostates were allowed some extra rope up until they hung themselves. As he left, Sister Justine knocked on the door, bowing her head as she entered. Unlike some of the other Chantry sisters, Elemena thought Justine had some backbone.

"Sister, please come and sit, there is much work to be done."

It was a serious document that Regent Loghain was reviewing at that moment. The Mages were declaring their freedom and promising to serve the Crown of Ferelden directly.

Loghain took a moment, but only a moment, to appreciate how bizarre the world could be. This was very much the deal he offered Uldred who was apparently dead. When his agents first intercepted the Knight-Commanders missive to the Grand Cleric about how the Circle had fallen and demanding the Right of Annulment, Loghain had promptly destroyed it. The references of "abominations" running loose was written off by Loghain as Templar hysteria whenever a mage refused to bow and scrape to them, like an Orlesian lord demanding absolute obedience from a serf. Evidently, the "abomination" part was true, but the mages dealt with it all on their own. And, realizing they had actual power, the Mages were now demanding to make their own way in the world by serving Ferelden.

Loghain had objections to this. He had been young when he realized the power mages wielded. The Orlesians had used it like a whip against rebels, calling in mages from their Circles to fight alongside them. There had only been a handful of mages, but those few were just as effective as a full armored legion of Chevaliers. Loghain had long wished for mages in the army, but the Chantry had rebuked him constantly. The seven mages who served at Ostagar were immensely useful, and if this actually was a Blight, it would be better to have them serving than locked away in a Tower.

He barely heard the door open to his study as Howe entered. He looked up from the Declaration, giving the man a look. Did he like Howe? Not particularly, but his troops were useful and no one could say he did not have Ferelden's best interests at heart. Besides, his gold was enough to make up for any flaws. It was useful for paying the troops and keeping them loyal and for buying the loyalty of nobles. Another valuable lesson from the Orlesians, all nobles were for sale, like the best apple at market.

"Evidently rebellion spreads like the fever." Howe sneered, holding out his own copy of the Mage's Declaration. "It seems Uldred was good for something after all."

Loghain grunted in response. His head was aching again, his mind and thoughts clouded and murky. His grief over Ostagar, over Cailan? Perhaps. He had not felt this way since Maric's disappearance at sea. He shook his head, willing for his mind to clear. He must see Ferelden through this crisis. What mattered was taking control of Ferelden and beating back the Grey Wardens.

No… what mattered was protecting Ferelden. Yes, protecting Ferelden. His headache flared up and he sipped some more water, eager to calm it as Howe continued.

"I have had reports, sire, that the Grey Wardens have called the Circle to ally with us. How odd they wish to be associated with those traitors and foreigners."

"Circle Mages are desperate by nature." Loghain reasoned. "The Grey Wardens were simply the first hand offered to them. If we make them a better offer, they'll join us."

"You are truly considering their offer?"

"Why not? We need them for the Darkspawn and our armies."

It made no issue for Howe, who shrugged in agreement. "I've always found the Chantry line about mages to be rather tiresome. Bryce was especially fond of it though. He refused to have mages in his court, even for his children's birth."

Loghain did not want to hear about Bryce Cousland. His support for Howe was due to the Couslands being a moot point. Their line was extinguished and there was no point warring over a dead noble family when there were other more pressing issues. Standing, Loghain stalked over to the map table, examining the pieces on it. The fighting was thickest in the Bannorn with scattered skirmishes in the North. Morcrest, on the border of Amaranthine and Highever, was a hot spot of violence. Howe's men had secured the Calder Hills finally, but the alliance of remaining Banns loyal to the Cousland's memory was massing in Mistmoor for a renewed assault. Things were precarious but winnable. Unfortunately, winter was upon them and the armies would have to camp through it, allowing them time to rest and grow in strength.

Unless there was a change.

"Our goal for the winter will be to win the mages to our cause." Loghain declared. "We shall send word to their Tower, conscript them, and bring them into the fold."

"The Chantry will not approve, sire." Howe cautioned. "There is always the threat of an Exalted March."

"They can bloody well try. I do not fear Templars when they face an armed battalion of Ferelden's best, supported by mages."

In Return to Ostagar DLC, Ostagar is frozen over. Obviously, winter happens at some point. I like to imagine that it occurs while the Hero of Ferelden and his/her party are underground dealing with the dwarves. Darkspawn probably suffer from the cold and frostbite like any other living creature and thus need to Winter in the Deep Roads. It would also help explain why more of Ferelden isn't consumed by the Blight. The attack on the Western Hills Arling would be the Darkspawn's last major offensive before retreating underground for the winter, cementing their threat in the minds of Fereldens. Their next big assault would be on Denerim.

As to Vaughn, if you don't play the City Elf Origin then it's mentioned by the guard outside of the Alienage that the elves revolted and killed Vaughn. We later find out this is a lie. Whether it's a lie here or not… well, we'll see!

We don't get any info on how Grand Cleric's are selected, so I'm going with how their real world inspiration – Cardinals – are selected: by Papal Appointment. Naturally, a bunch of politicking goes into those appointments as anyone can learn from just skimming a Wikipedia article about any random Renaissance Papacy.

In Dragon Age II, we learn that Starkhaven has its own Grand Cleric known as Francesca of Starkhaven. Elthina is known as Elthina of Kirkwall. I think it's reasonable to assume then that each of the Free Marcher city-states has its own Grand Cleric. Meanwhile, Elemena is simply referred to as "Elemena of Ferelden." And, call me crazy, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say Orlais has "Grand Clerics of Areas That Don't Really Need Grand Clerics" so they can pack the College of Clerics and vote in Orlesian Divines. Because of this, it would make sense the Chantry would use the number of Grand Clerics to limit the political/religious power of nations who were out of favor. And Ferelden will always be out of favor when dealing with Orlais.