While he slept, Niall had been murdered. Smacked over the head with a dwarven maul. At least, that was the immediate explanation he thought of to account for the splitting headache he had woken up with. It took him a few moments to reassess the situation and decipher the real cause of the headache - he was finding out the hard way that brandy was not his drink.
He made a valiant attempt to open his eyes and face the daylight streaming in through his window. As a newly harrowed mage, when he had first be assigned to these quarters, he had been pleased to have his own window – most mages' rooms didn't have them. Now, he couldn't think of anything worse that the aggressive yellow beam of light trying to burn out his eyes. He groaned and wrenched himself out of bed.
He pottered around, getting washed and dressed, until his nausea subsided, at which point he could stop feeling sorry for himself long enough to recall memories of the night before. Was he part of some sort of secret club now? Uldred's inner circle? That was – not good? Or maybe it was? Either way, he had a more immediate issue to contemplate.
He glanced over at the pile of dirty robes that he hadn't gotten around to washing in the far corner of his room. He glanced down at the robes he had fallen asleep wearing, wrinkled and thick with the stench of alcohol. Those were his options of outfit for the day. A day in which he had to go and speak with the First Enchanter. Great.
He settled on a brandy-soaked ensemble. Given that the purpose of his meeting was to convince Irving not to promote him to Enchanter, it may even work in his favour.
-o0o-
"Come in." Irving beckoned. As usually, he wasn't sat at his desk. Niall was sure he had never once seen Irving actually sit down. Instead, he had his back to the door, searching for something on his bookshelves.
"Good afternoon, First Enchanter." Irving turned.
"G – Ah, are you quite alright, child? You are awfully pale."
"Just a bit overtired, that's all." he smiled and that seemed to be enough of an explanation for Irving.
"What was it you wanted to see me about?" he asked in his usual droning timbre.
"Enchanter Leorah -"
"Ah," Irving smiled knowingly, cutting Niall off before he could elaborate, "You mean Senior Enchanter Leorah. Who know doubt mentioned to you who she had suggested as her successor?"
"Well that's the thing – she did mention it. And – I'm not sure it's a good idea."
Irving quirked an eyebrow, he looked genuinely surprised by Niall's announcement.
"Why ever not?"
He froze. The sickening lurch his stomach gave when Leorah had first told him was all the reason he needed to want to turn the position down. But a general, ineffable sense of unease at the thought of rising through the Circle's ranks, at gradually becoming responsible for upholding practices he could barely bring himself to think about – how could he explain any of that to the First Enchanter?
"I'm just – not sure I'm cut out to be teaching." It sounded weak even to him. Irving gave an amused shake of his head.
"How can you know that – you've never tried." He didn't give Niall a chance to respond, "Senior Enchanter Wynne has her Intermediate Spirit Magic class this afternoon., I think you should assist her."
He would have protested, but he knew it wasn't a request. Niall gave a resigned nod and turned to leave.
"It's the last class before sundown so," Irving looked him up and down, "It should give you time to attend to your laundry, Enchanter Niall."
Niall didn't respond. He felt annoyed with himself for assuming Irving would listen to him.
-o0o-
A few hours and a clean robe later and Niall was standing at the front of Wynne's classroom. He looked out at rows and rows of empty desks, trying not to be too terrified that in a few moments they'd be filled with wide-eyed apprentices expecting him to have something of value to say.
Wynne was walking up and down the classroom, placing a sheet of parchment covered in intricate diagrams on each desk.
"Could I get one of those?" he asked her, feeling very much like the same scared little boy who'd sat in this very classroom years ago.
She handed him a sheet, "Of course, I suppose Irving did not give you much chance to prepare for the class. But the notes are simple enough to follow."
"Thank you." he looked it over. Her hand drawn diagrams made absolutely no sense. But the heading told him they were studying the Mana Drain spell, which, thank the Maker, was easy enough.
Right on time, the students filed into the room, one by one, in silence, and took their seats.
"Good Afternoon, everyone." she said and the class replied in unison.
Wynne did not bother to introduce him before she set off teaching which meant he was left just standing there at the front, staring at the apprentices who quickly went from looking confused by his presence to ignoring him completely. He was about as useful as the decorate wall-hanging behind him.
"…. which is why it is not necessarily a case of proximity to your target as it is focus…" Niall's mind had wondered somewhere far away since Wynne had started talking. He was thinking about the last time he'd sat in this classroom as an apprentice - his Elemental Magic theory exam. He only focused back in on Wynne when he heard his name, "… Enchanter Niall and I will demonstrate."
Enchanter Niall, he thought, word travels fast.
She gestured for him to come forward, when he did Wynne took him gently by the shoulders and manoeuvred him to the position she wanted in front of her desk. He'd apparently been promoted from decoration to prop.
She produced an old, splintered staff handed it to him. As ridiculous as it sounded, it hadn't occurred to him to bring his own. He wasn't in the habit of carrying it around the tower with him – it was very rare that he used a spell complicated enough that he needed the thing.
"Now," Wynne said with her unique air of authority, "Enchanter Niall, would you be so kind as to cast Winter's Grasp on -," she picked up the potted plant from her desk, "this dawn lotus. Using the proper staff-wielding technique, please."
He did as he was told, though the spell felt awkward with the unfamiliar staff. Crystals of ice encased the lotus and froze it solid. The magic lingered only for a few seconds before melting away, leaving the plant unharmed.
"Good," Wynne continued, "Now, Niall will try to cast it again – only this time I will counter him with Mana Drain." She nodded slightly to him and he took that as his cue. He tried to summon his mana but all he felt a heaviness in his legs and feet as something prevented his magic from surging through his body. It was an uncomfortable feeling, as though for a second he was able unable to touch the fade.
"Good." Wynne repeated, "Now of course, this is a controlled scenario. Using the spell in a confrontation would likely be much less effective. Can anyone give me a reason why?"
Several tentative hands were raised. Wynne fielded several questions and a comment from one smug girl at the back who pointed out Niall hadn't performed the correct staff movements for a Winter's Grasp. He prickled with irritation when Wynne praised her for having noticed his mistake.
Once the class was finally over and the students had filed out, Wynne turned her attention back to him,
"I have next week's lesson plan for you in my desk. You aren't obligated to follow it word for word of course, but I would appreciate if you at least stuck to the main outline. I had been working to a curriculum -,"
"Sorry," Niall interrupted, "I'm giving next week's lesson?"
Wynne looked at him like he was being deliberately dense,
"Yes. You're to take over the class when I leave for Ostagar. Surely Irving explained that?"
"I – No, no he didn't."
"I see. Well, you know now." she produced a folder from her desk and thrust it into his arms, "Everything you need should be in here. Do make sure you brush up on standard staff technique too. I know most mages adapt it to their own style but it's important the apprentices learn the standard form first -,"
"Sorry," he repeated, not quite processing what he'd been told, "I'm going to teaching Intermediate Spirit Magic? When was this decided?"
"Irving told me the day before yesterday." she sounded mildly irritated, "If you have any questions, find me before I leave for Ostagar. Right now, I have to rush off or I'll be late for chapel."
It took him a moment to identify the feeling welling up inside him as anger. Two days ago? Irving had promoted him and assigned him classes without so much as the courtesy of a meeting. It was frustrating. He wasn't naïve, he knew mages had no say in almost every aspect of their lives, if Irving wanted him to teach then Niall had no choice but to do it. What annoyed him about this was it would have been so easy for Irving to be up front with him this morning. Niall had been there, in his office, he could at least have explained his decision, pretending to care what Niall thought about it. Instead, Irving had chosen to send him into the classroom blind, and he'd spent the hour feeling guilty for being ill-prepared.
Niall was a skilled mage, he never caused trouble - had he not earned the right to be treated with more respect than this? Suddenly, he noticed Uldred's words had begun, unconsciously, to surface in his mind.
As mages, we are expected to spend our days with our heads down… to show blind obedience…
Niall took a breath and mentally began to count down the ages.
Divine, Glory, Towers, Black….
It was a technique he remembered his mother teaching him when he was very young, to calm himself down when he got upset. It was something he had done so often that he now did it automatically whenever he felt a surge of emotion. It always worked - by the time he reached Dragon he felt less inclined march into Irving's office hurling fireballs. He knew there was no point getting wound up – what was done was done.
Going to the library seemed like his best shot at salvaging the miserable day. He might be over-tired, nauseous, pissed off and mildly humiliated – but the day wouldn't be a total bust if he could get some research done this evening.
When he got to his usual spot Uldred was there – leisurely packing away bits of equipment.
"Evening. Been teaching?" Niall said causally before it occurred to him that maybe he shouldn't have done. How friendly should he be to a man with whom he's only communicated via secret notes and secret gatherings? Thankfully, Uldred didn't seem to mind Niall's familiarity.
"Sort of – I was tutoring. Unfortunately my latest protégé –" that last word dripped with sarcasm, "refuses to skip a chantry service."
"Jowan?" it slipped out before Niall could stop himself because Uldred's relationship with that particular apprentice had been a point of curiosity for Niall for a sometime.
"Yes." Uldred's voice gave nothing away but he was running his eyes over Niall now, "You're not a chantry-going man then? This isn't the first time I've seen you here when the rest of the tower is in the chapel." Niall got the distinct impression he was being weighed up.
"I go sometimes. I suppose I'm slightly apathetic about the whole Andraste thing. She can't compete with a rare moment peace and quiet in the library." That earned an amused exhale from Uldred that Niall chose to interpret as a laugh.
"Apathy, that's certainly one way to view the force that keeps you locked in a tower all your life." His words were harsh but his tone wasn't. For someone as practiced at heresy as Uldred, the words rolled off the tongue without any extra oratorical effort needed. If anything, he sounded amused.
"Anything else in either direction just seems like a waste of time to me." it was true that Niall gave the Chantry remarkably little thought. The tower was littered with giant statues of Andraste – even some of the larger personal quarters came equipped with their own stone idols. It was just a part of life, as mundane as any other.
Uldred looked thoughtful,
"I envy you that in some ways. It bothers me – always has done - 'accursed ones' – and we just accept it. Still -," his wistful tone disappeared as abruptly as it had come, "we resist as best we can. I was glad to see you last night."
Niall had presumed he wasn't supposed to mention the previous night. It was jarring having Uldred reference it so casually – even if there was no one else within earshot.
He was about to thank Uldred for the invitation, only he stopped, realising he wasn't sure whether or not he was thankful. He settled for,
"I think I overdid it slightly on the brandy."
"Ha – not quite so much as Anders, I had to get Jowan to help me carry him back to his quarters. I'm sure he woke up with quite the headache to reckon with. Still, I can't say I blame him for needing a little escapism after everything he's been through."
Niall wasn't sure what Uldred was referring to. He only knew Anders had spent a whole year outside the tower before the templars had finally caught up with him. One rumour had it he'd been in Denerim. Another said he'd gotten all the way to the Free Marches.
"Did something happen to him while he was away from the tower?"
For the second time that day, a senior enchanter was staring at Niall as though he was completely dense.
"The man was locked in solitary confinement for a year." Uldred's face twisted in disgust.
"I – I had no idea."
"Remember that templar who disappeared a few months back – the tall one? He was one of Anders' guards, liked to toy with him. Then one day, he took it a bit too far. From what Irving said, the only reason Anders didn't end up dead on the floor of his cell was his own skill with healing spells.
As Uldred spoke Niall felt sick. An image from the night before came back to him – Anders' back covered in deep, red scars that hadn't quite healed over.
"Maker's breath." was all he managed to say.
"Greagoir had the templar transferred to another Circle. He beat a man almost to death and all he got was a transfer. But we're the accursed ones."
Uldred turned his attention back to tidying his supplies – casually placing extracts of cinnabar into a small box as though the story he had just told was unremarkable, an everyday occurrence. Niall felt numb as he contemplated the possibility that maybe it was. Once Uldred finished he turned around to see Niall hadn't moved.
"Er – if you're free right now, we could look over your research – if you're still open to sharing it with me?"
"Sorry," Niall shook his head, "I'm not sure I could focus on that tonight. We could meet here same time tomorrow though?"
"Excellent." Uldred said and took his leave.
Niall stared vacantly at the nearest bookshelf for a moment, before deciding to return to his quarters.