Chapter Three: A Warm Welcome
"Who's your friend, Varric?" asks the Inquisitor, walking up next to us, with Hawke not far behind. I wanted to wait, but I guess an introduction now will have do.
"New recruit," Varric answers. "Didn't get a name yet."
"Ferox," I speak up, smiling at him. "But I know who you are, Your Worship."
"Please, none of that. Just Declan will be fine."
"No, I couldn't possibly call you that," I protest.
"I insist," he adds. "I get enough of that from the nobles. I don't need it from pretty girls."
What did he just say? I'm stunned, and feel an unfamiliar warmth in my cheeks.
Varric laughs. "Guess nobody warned you. The Inquisitor's an incurable flirt. Don't take him seriously."
"I am not," he contradicts, but smiles nevertheless. Stepping toward me, he takes my hand. "I'll have you know, dear lady, I happen to be very serious."
Even Hawke chuckles this time. "Your approach needs some work." He joins our group and extends his own hand. "Garrett Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, at your service, but like him, I don't stand much on formalities. You can call me Garrett. It's always nice to meet another free mage."
I pull my hand away from the Inquisitor and shake Hawke's hand, instead. I give my name again. "Well, that's kind of the point in coming here, right?" I ask. "You guys have the best deal running for mages in all Thedas!" I can't keep a straight face with any of these three men. Maybe this won't be so hard, after all.
"Tevinter might not agree with you," Varric states with a wry smile and a shrug. The thought, although sarcastic, does warm my heart a little.
"So," I begin, "would one of you rather charming gentlemen be so kind as to give me directions to the library? I don't want to be late meeting Fiona on my first day here. "
"I'll walk you there...on one condition," Declan asserts.
"Oh brother," I chuckle. "This should be good."
"I believe it will be. Dine with me at my table this evening."
"Are you sure that's a good idea Your Wor-" I pause at his look, "Declan, I mean, showing favor to someone you only just met?" I question.
"Nah, he's always doing stuff like that, but you can sit next to me if you want," Varric interjects. "Although if you're signing up to work with Fiona, I sure hope you're better with your staff than you are at paying attention to where you're walking," he jokes.
"I can guarantee you of that," I reply, laughing.
"Oh this I have to see," Hawke teases. "What Circle are you from, anyway? I can't quite place your accent."
"None. I've lived outside a Circle my whole life. Traveled a lot, too, that's probably why my accent isn't pronounced. I was born in a small fishing village on the Storm Coast, but it's been a long time since I was there," I state, giving my usual tale about where I'm from. If I don't have a "home" then it's far less likely that anyone would think they knew me or ask me too many questions.
"You're Fereldan, then. Same here, although my parents were from the Free Marches," Garrett says. "I'm fairly certain Fiona will want a demonstration of your 'guaranteed' magical prowess. I have to see if you can live up to your promises."
"Well then, Garrett, prepare to be impressed," I boast.
I end up with a three-person escort. This was unexpected, but it's nice. I enjoy their company so far. Declan leads the way, giving me a guided tour of the place as we go. He insists I walk next to him, leaving Garrett and Varric to tail behind us.
We reach an upper level in the main keep. Row after row of dusty bookshelves filled with ancient tomes line the walls. This is a place of learning. I've always loved the smell of the written word, although not nearly as much as my brother Etiam. He would spend hours pouring over texts in his study, scribbling notes down with his quill in a small book. I doubt anything lately is of much value to him, most of his text being retrieved from the mortal world long ago, but he finds enough crumbs of ideas to fill book after book with his thoughts. I've always been curious to see what he writes, but he won't let me read them.
We see a few individuals on the way, including a man, obviously a mage, in garb I recognize as from Tevinter. One of our own, here, in this place where he would not be trusted. He is brave indeed. I smile at him.
Varric calls out, "Hey Sparkler, is Fiona around?"
"What's this?" the man asks, and I hear the familiar intonations of Tevinter. It's pleasant.
"Dropping off a new recruit," Declan states.
"And it requires a full Inquisition escort? Color me curious. But yes, she's over by that Tranquil girl, Helisma. Dare I ask what's so important?"
"I'm not sure what color curiosity is, but I'd say it fits them, as well," I say with a giggle. "I made the mistake of bragging about my ability with magic, and now they want to see it."
He grins. "I'd go with purple. Always been a favorite. And who might you be?"
"Ferox, wild apostate, and hopefully, agent of the Inquisition," I reply. "You're from Tevinter, right?"
"Indeed. The scary 'Vint," he jokes. "Dorian of House Pavus."
"I'll make note to quake in my boots first next time, do it proper," I tease.
"See that you do, and don't forget a knife for all the blood magic," he retorts back. He's thoughtful for a moment. "I think I see now how you got an escort."
I cock my head at him, unsure what he means. I'd been enjoying joking around with the men of the Inquisition so far, but I hadn't really done anything special.
"And you don't see it. Even better," he laughs. "You'll have to tell me all about your demonstration later." He goes back to reading a book. The title read From Magisters to Darkspawn: A History of the First Blight . On the table is another one, titled Old Gods and Archdemons.
Not just a little light reading, then. Dorian is researching Corypheus and the corrupted dragon. I'll definitely be back by to talk to him later and find out what he knows. Maybe I can use him to help influence the Inquisition's stance on dragons.
But, yet again, we've wasted time. I really wanted to make a good impression on Fiona, too. Now she's probably going to be angry, or maybe she'll understand when I show up with my powerful retinue. We finally arrive, and I'm face to face with the woman who would decide my fate here with the Inquisition.
"Inquisitor," she greets Declan. "And the Champion, as well?"
I notice she didn't mention me, or Varric. I look over at him, gesture between he and I and shrug.
"Compared to them, maybe," Varric says with a small chuckle, before returning his gaze to Fiona.
Fiona examines me carefully. "You must be the new recruit that Threnn told me about. I admit, I had expected you a bit earlier, but I see you were otherwise engaged."
"I'm eager to get started," I announce, smiling wide in my enthusiasm.
"What areas did you study at your Circle?" she asks.
"No Circle, I learned from my family or whoever would teach me, but I'm best at primal magic," I explain.
"Any other specialities?"
"Yes. Dragons."
The entire group turned to look at me.
Fiona wrinkled her brow. "What do you mean, dragons?"
"I'm an expert on dragons and dragon magic."
Hawke spoke up. "I've never heard of dragon magic. Is there even such a thing?"
"Not to my knowledge," Fiona asserts.
"And that's where Circle training gets you," I conclude with a chuckle. "Dragons are most definitely magic."
"Let's start with primal, then, but we will need a better area to test your talents," Fiona states.
"Lead the way," I respond.
Fiona leads us down a dusty, mostly unused corridor, and through a door that squeals loudly on its hinges as she opens it. This area hasn't seen much use until lately. The door opens into a large terraced balcony. The first section appears solid, with no cracks to indicate any kind of instability. The second section shows more evidence of wear, stone railings crumbling, and sections of the floor missing around the edges.
Fiona indicates that the others are to stay on the upper balcony, while she and I head to the lower section.
"Let us start with something simple. Do you know the spell Winter's Grasp?" Fiona asks me.
"That is simple," I state. I back away from her, twirl my staff in the air once, and slam the end into the ground, sending out the freezing burst around me.
"Good, now how about Rock Armor?" she prompts.
"This isn't really a challenge, you know," I tell her, and focus on the solid feeling of earth around me. Out of the dust and pebbles around me, the earth particles collect and create a light, durable armor for me. I know it looks a little different than what normal mages do. Rock Armor often ends up bulky and heavy, but I don't like things that impede my movement, so I tend toward more flexible materials.
"An interesting variation," she comments, coming over to test the strength of my armor. She pulls out a short dagger from her belt. I hear the Inquisitor... Declan, I remind myself, protest the idea of her stabbing me.
"Don't worry, Declan, I know what I'm doing," I reassure him, raising my tone to be sure to be heard above the sound of the wind. The blade shatters on my armor, despite being thin. I see surprise in her eyes.
"Very well, you wish for a challenge?" she asks with a grunt of frustration.
"Yes , please," I beg, my boredom with these small tasks evident in my impatient tone.
"Show me Storm of the Century," she commanded. She doesn't think I can do it. Oh, Fiona, you do have a few things to learn about me.
There are three parts to this one. Clenching my fist, I activate my ability Spell Might. I see Fiona's eyes narrow. She knows I know what I'm doing, at least. I raise my staff in the air and start chanting the Blizzard incantation. It takes a few seconds, but then the blast of frigid air hits, sleet and snow whipping around in the wind. Immediately, I raise my staff again and call upon a charge in the air, in my mind's eye, drawing the storm clouds nearer This is my element. I laugh with excitement as I feel the primal forces collecting, and I unleash Tempest in the same area as I had Blizzard.
The roar of the electrical storm is loud enough that I bet anyone inside the keep believes a real thunderstorm is brewing. The spell cast, I lean my head back and enjoy the rush of the winds stirring my long wavy hair. Magic . This is what I live for.
The storm rages for a few minutes, making it difficult to see Fiona, or the men of my escort, but eventually it settles. The ground is covered in frost, and small patches of purple electricity still spark around me.
"How was that?" I ask Fiona, faking being a little winded, and I grin.
She claps. "I would say you are a master of elemental magic. Well done, and welcome to the Inquisition."