A.N. It has come to my attention that has suddenly decided to enforce its rating system with an iron fist, and that thousands of fictions on the site are going to be wiped out. I have taken precautions against this, and saved the entirety of Inseparable, Dragon's Rage, and And We Shall Overcome on my computer, and if they get whipped out, I will try to start up again. If the site won't let me, send me a PM, and I will mail you a synopsis of the fiction or fictions you want.
Chapter 15
Matthew, Velanna, Anders, Oghren, and Nathaniel were relaxing in the Crown and Lion inn, enjoying a short break from their doings. In addition to wiping out the smuggler den, they had also killed four blood mages that had taken up residence in the city. When a templar had approached him with detailed drawings of the suspected maleficarum, Matthew had accepted the task only with the intention of warning the mages that the Chantry's goons were on to them, and they should get away from the city immediately. However, when he approached the first of the apostates, the woman had shrieked, slit her wrist, and attempted to cast a Blood Wound spell, which would have caused their own blood to lacerate them from the inside out. Luckily, the woman was not using a mage's staff to channel her power, so she was forced to take a moment to channel the magic through her own body. This allowed Nathaniel to loose an arrow at her, which while it did not kill her, it did interrupt her spell long enough for Matthew to use a Holy Smite, which left the mage trembling on the ground, bleeding from her eyes, nose, and ears, until Matthew stabbed her through the heart. Acknowledging the fact that his most hated foes were right for once, he led group in combing the city, slaughtered the other three blood mages, stripped them of their coin and equipment, and returned to the Chantry where they were rewarded with twenty sovereigns for their efforts.
About five of which had already been spent on the inn's spirits. Mainly by Oghren.
Looking over his Wardens, Matthew saw that they had divided into groups of two; Oghren and Anders were at one end of the bar, the former drinking as he usually did and the latter playing with Ser Pounce-a-Lot, while Nathanial and Valanna were at the other, the rogue sipping a pint of ale while the elven mage sat with her back to the wall looking at everyone in the room as though they were the scum of the earth. Which, given what the men looked like and were talking about, Matthew was inclined to agree with her.
For his part, Matthew was sitting at a table not far from Nathaniel and Velanna, reading his new Spirit Warrior instruction manual. While not true mages, Spirit Warriors were able to, with enough discipline, cast their minds into the fade and call upon the assistance of the benevolent spirits of the Fade, such as the spirits of Valor, Compassion, Fortitude, and Justice. In exchange for taste of the realm of mortals, the warrior would gain access to the power and abilities of the spirit, greatly augmenting the warrior's fighting prowess. The book warned numerous times that spirit warriors were often mistaken for mages and hunted by templars, but Matthew considered tweaking the Chantry's nose to be an added bonus. He resolved to begin practicing these new abilities as soon as possible.
From the other end of the bar, the Warden-Commander heard Oghren growl under his breath, and then say "Women are drawn to you when you play with that cat."
"Like moths to a flame," Anders replied proudly, dragging a piece of yarn along the ground and letting Pounce-a-Lot chase and attack it. "Women like it when you show affection for small, fuzzy, defenseless beings. Like you."
"Stupid…..mage," Oghren cursed vehemently. "Every time I pull something out of my robes, women just flee."
Rolling his eyes at the banter, Matthew looked near the door, and saw a notice board by the entrance, along with a wooden crate and a mug. Placing the Spirit Warrior book into his pack, he stood and walked over to the notice board, read the title, and started laughing. It was a notice for the "Blight Orfans", clearly a scam to cheat people out of money, likely set up by some of the inns costumers. Reading the request from the "children", he started slipping into hysteria; their requests, which included brandy and moonshine, made it even more blatantly obvious that is was a sham; no child would have any use for these things. Then, once he was able to breathe properly again, he read the last item. Instead of a request for money or other supplies, it was a request to perform a task, specifically to spread a nearby bowl of scented herbs on Revered Mother Morag's bed sheets. Looking at the bowls contents, an evil, vindictive smile spread across his face.
What you are planning is incredibly immature, Matthew, Morrigan's voice echoed in his mind.
I do not care, was his reply.
He received the mental equivalent of a groan. Oh, this is just lovely. Such a fine example you are setting for your child; soon we shall have every peasant, lord, and priest banging on our door, demanding we discipline our child so that he or she will desist with such tomfoolery. Is that what you want?
Morrigan, were you paying attention when I told you about what I was like as a child? I expect any child of mine to engage in pranks. Nay, I demand it!
There was a pause, and then his wife said, You do know that you will regret those words, correct?
Probably, but you wouldn't want our lives to be boring would you?
Perish the thought, Morrigan snapped sarcastically. Then she was gone.
Grinning like a small child, Matthew pulled out his coin pouch, and filled the mug with silver and copper coins; the opportunity they had given him was worth every bit. Taking the bowl of not-scented herbs, he walked back to Nathaniel and Velanna; his time as the most wanted man in the country had taught him to never travel anywhere without someone to watch his back. As he drew nearer to Nathaniel and Velanna, however, he heard a heated and less than pleasant discussion.
"So," the elf began, "you not only gave up on killing the Grey Warden that murdered your father, but you actually joined the order."
"Are you trying to pick a fight, Velanna?" Nathaniel responded, his voice calm and collected, but rippling with anger. "Baiting me like this is juvenile."
"I just wanted to know how you felt," the mage defended.
"How do you feel knowing you murdered all those people because you were too arrogant to check your facts?"
"Warm and fuzzy."
"You are a horrible person." Nathaniel turned to get back to his ale, but then added, "And your ears are clownish."
Velanna reacted as though Nathaniel had slapped her in the face. "What? Who's being juvenile now?"
"That is enough, from both of you!" Matthew snapped. Once the two had stopped bickering, he said, "Nathaniel, I need to run an errand, and I need you to accompany me."
Nodding, the archer stood, and walked towards the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw Velanna look at Nathaniel's retreating form with a wistful expression for a split second before settling back into her usual disdainful look. Matthew shook his head to clear the image; Velanna did not look at anyone like that. She was the original Morrigan in elf form.
Increasing his pace to catch up with the rogue, the two exited the inn, and Matthew directed them toward the Chantry of our Lady Redeemer. Looking at his commander, Nathaniel asked, "What are we doing, sir?"
"The writers of the Blight Orfan's notice board want someone to spread these scented herbs on her bed," Matthew explained, gesturing to the bowl in his hand.
Nathaniel flinched, then half-screamed, "Commander, those aren't scenting herbs, those are rashvine nettles!"
A small, evil smile spread across Matthew's face. "I know," he replied.
Nathaniel blinked several times, and then asked, "What reason do you have to put rashvine in the revered mother's bed, sir."
"No reason," Matthew replied nonchalantly.
"Do you have a desire to strike out at the Chantry in any way, at any opportunity, Commander?" Nathaniel asked, somewhat in shock by his superior's blatant desire to engage in such a petty prank.
"What gave it away," Matthew replied, voice suddenly becoming much more serious. "My taking a wife who is a mage and not even attempting to hide the fact, or my chocking a Templar to death in full view of everyone present, or all the gossip between the nobles and priests about Bryce Cousland's younger son uprooting a bush in an attempt to stop his mother from dragging him to the building he hated even then?"
"You uprooted a bush?" Nathaniel gasped incredulously.
"I also wedged my first knife into a gap between two cobblestones so tightly no one could get it loose. To my knowledge, people are still stubbing their toes on the handle."
And with that, he motioned for the archer to continue, and the somewhat shell-shocked Nathaniel followed the Warden-Commander up the steps to the Chantry. However, when Matthew was reaching for the door handle, he noticed that Nathaniel was no longer with him. Turning, he saw the archer a short way away, staring at the statue of Andraste in front of the Chantry. Upon approaching him, Nathaniel, turned to Matthew, and said, "It figures, actually."
Matthew's eyes narrowed in confusion. "These statues are everywhere, Nathaniel; I don't understand your surprise."
"There was another statue here, until recently," Nathaniel explained. "One of my Uncle Byron. He died in the rebellion against the Orleasians. He was a hero. And now everything he and everything my ancestors is gone and forgotten. All because of what my father did."
Matthew's face softened, and for the first time, he regretted his asking Alistair to declare the Howes pariahs. What Rendon had done, both to his family and to others, were the most base and evil things that could be conceived by a mortal mind, but the Howes DID have a long and noble history, and he had, at least in part, obliterated it. Looking Nathaniel in the eye, he said, "I'll have them replace it."
"I appreciate the offer, Commander," Nathaniel replied. "But don't bother; no one will want to see it. Everyone in Fereldan thinks that my family's name is trash, and given what we know, they're right." The rogue clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and released it in an explosive growl. "Curse my father, and his idiot ambition!" Turning to Matthew he asked rhetorically, "He lost everything for us, didn't he?"
"Yes, he did," Matthew replied without pause. Then, walking up to the Howe, pointed at him, and said, "And it's up to YOU to turn that around."
Nathaniel smiled bitterly. "Not too much pressure, right?"
"Hey, I led a group of seven people and a dog to unite a nation and defeated the Fifth Blight in about a year. I'm sure you can redeem your family's name in no time flat if you really apply yourself."
Chuckling, Nathaniel looked back at the statue, and mused, "I wonder what happened to poor Uncle Byron. He's probably propping up the side of a Chantry somewhere." Shaking his head, he finished with, "Ah, statues are for pigeons. Let's get back to your ridiculously childish mission."
"Yes, please," Matthew responded enthusiastically.
Entering the Chantry, he told Nathaniel to keep an eye out for anyone, and then proceeded to the Grand Cleric's bedchamber at the rear of the Chantry, which, upon his inspection, was completely empty. While walking down the aisle, he noticed a book had been left behind. Picking it up, he saw the only thing on the cover was an embossed oak tree. Looking through the book for anything that could indicate who it belonged to, he discovered every page in the entire book was blank. With no one to return it to, and the missing party clearly not returning for it, Matthew placed the book in his pack; he might find a use for it later.
Continuing to the rear of the Chantry, he turned right, and entered the revered mother's chambers, which were also empty. Working quickly, he lifted up the covers, spread the rashvine in a thin layer on the bed, positioned the covers as they were before he came, and quickly left the scene. Motioning for Nathaniel to follow him, the two left the Chantry, Matthew snickering like a little boy, and Nathaniel rolling his eyes at such childishness.
However, when they reached the bottom of the steps, they both stopped in their tracks and cringed. Revered Mother Morag, flanked by two other chantry priests and four Templars, walking directly towards them. With no opportunity to avoid her, the two would simply have to put up with the woman, who was, undisputedly, the most selfish, petty, and greedy women in the Arling. Likely the reason the scammers wanted her to suffer the wrath of rashvine.
Once the group had reached them, Nathaniel knelt on the ground. Morag offered her signet ring to him with the air of someone giving a favor to a lesser being. Nathaniel kissed the ring quickly, and then stood. Morag then offered the ring to Matthew, who looked at it, and then looked her in the eye, not bending his spine an inch. Nathaniel, the other two priests, and the Templars all flinched.
Morag's slightly wrinkled face twisted with anger. "Arl Cousland, I trust you know that followers of the Chantry knell to kiss the ring of a Revered Mother?"
"I'm sure that they do," Matthew said simply, still staying upright.
He heard Nathaniel take a deep breath through his nose, and the two lower ranking priests' eyes widened in horror.
Morag's countenance became one of utter disgust. "I see that the Grey Wardens still see fit to include heathens in their ranks. That your order accepts those you do not follow the Maker is forever their greatest weakness."
"The fact that led a single nation to end a whole Blight in little over one year belies your argument," Matthew replied, his voice barely polite.
With one final dirty look, Morag stepped past him, followed by her Templar guards and one of the priests. The second, a woman who appeared to be in her late twenties, however, stayed behind, and once the group had passed, she said, "My lord, I apologize for the Revered Mother's rudeness. She is…overzealous in ensuring that the Maker's word is spread to and believed by all."
"She is an obnoxious, greedy, conceited, arrogant, bitch who only cares about what can bring prestige and coin to her, ma'am," Matthew responded without pause. "As are almost all members of the Chantry. And you know it. Miss…?"
"Julia. Mother Julia. And I feel that you are mistaken, Warden-Commander," she said, clearly unhappy with his analysis. "All of those who take up the cloth are fully committed to all morals and laws, both those set forward by the Divine, and the Kings of men."
Crossing his arms, Matthew asked, "Then why did three Templars spit on BOTH sets of laws, attack me and my men, and attempted to take one of my Wardens under arrest when they had no authority to do so?"
Mother Julia's eyes widened in shock, and explained, "What do you mean?"
"I mean that Knight-Lieutenant Rylock, along with two accomplices, laid a trap for one of my Wardens, and demanded I turn him over to her. I refused, and she immediately unleashed a Holy Smite on me, and all the Wardens present. Those three Templars defied a treaty signed by the very first Divine, committed high treason, and attempted to assassinate me! Given all this information, do you think that I would have a high opinion of the Chantry at the moment?"
Mother Julia, whose face had gone white as a sheet, looked down at the ground, and murmured, "No."
"I didn't think so," Matthew replied. Then, he turned and marched back to the Crown and Lion inn, Nathaniel close behind.