Eyes of the Heart

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Act III

Unexpected assignment.

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Maximilian

Maximilian hated to wait, especially when he didn't know exactly what he was waiting for.

At least fifteen minutes had passed since he was called to the office of First Enchanter Irving that afternoon, and he was apprehensive, to say the least. The mage didn't usually deal with the young Templar directly, but always through Greagoir, so he could count on one hand how many times he had entered that place in all those years.

This could not be a good sign. Especially because Greagoir was also in the room, standing in a corner behind Irving's desk, so silent and mysterious, just as everything seemed to be.

And if his own stream of thought pushing his a concentration to its limits was not enough, three rapid knocks on the door almost made him jump out of his own skin.

...

Wait, wait and wait….

"There's an important issue I must discuss with you," Irving said when I entered his office. "Be my guest."

How could I be comfortable?

Everything in that place inspired distrust. And I couldn't even allow myself to become anxious in his presence, especially with my uncle in the room watching me like I was some kind of criminal. Also, he was silent for a change, just looked at me askance, analyzing me, studying me, hoping I would denounce myself somehow.

I don't know exactly what he was up to, but I had no choice other than to stand quietly beside the mage's desk, as I was commanded to do. Motionless, forcing me to calm my breathing and pretend that I was composed and untroubled, rather than let on that I was suffering from the afflictions of an agonizing wait, for something I didn't even know what it was.

The truth is that I'd had this bad feeling for days now, a malaise that weighed heavily on my chest and would not let me sleep in peace. It was almost like a disease. And the worst part was I could not get rid of it no matter what I did - nothing seemed to be able to ease my restless heart.

It was killing me inside.

And when Helena entered the room, Maker, I think my heart stopped for at least three seconds.

...

"Come in," Irving said, staring at the door.

"You called, First Enchanter?" Helena put her head inside the office, as she usually did, but her smile faded as soon as her gaze met the sharp and vigilant eyes of the Templar-commander. "Greagoir," she added bitterly, bowing her head sightly.

"Please, have a seat," Irving invited, his kindly expression ten times lighter than when he was alone with the Templars. It was no surprise that he felt affection for the young Cousland, and he didn't bother to hide the pride he felt in the fine woman she'd become, and in her efforts to conquer her own space inside the circle.

Helena promptly obeyed, however hesitantly, exchanging a brief, sidelong glance with Greagoir while crossing to the First Enchanter's desk, which seemed an especially long way that afternoon.

Maximilian just watched her in silent apprehension, trying not to show interest in her actions. He feared the meaning of this meeting as much as she seemed to fear it. What if they suspected something?

Since she had been officially named an Enchanter, they'd continued meeting each other, yes, but he'd never done anything that might appear suspicious. They were simple, casual encounters, conversations that didn't suggest any behavior that might infringe upon the basic rules of coexistence in the circle. But even so, his bad feeling prevented him from remaining calm .

His fear of impending loss was nearly overwhelming.

"So, Enchanter Helena," Irving called, slowly removing his glasses as he propped his elbows on his desk. "Do you have any idea why you were called here today?"

She glanced at Maximilian, who was standing a few feet to the side, and then to Greagoir, before turning her attention to the silver eyeglasses pointed in her direction.

"Well," she began apprehensively, or so Maximilian thought, "I don't know what any evil tongues may have said, but whatever happened, this time I'm innocent."

...

I smiled, and thanks to the Maker I was wearing my helmet , otherwise I would have gotten myself in trouble. I really admired her ability to face and deal with the incredible tension, especially in such a situation. Even though her body was tense - and that could be seen just by watching the muscles of her neck twitching occasionally, and the way she kept her fists in her lap - she always tried to inspire confidence with her words when she faced problems, rather than pretending that she didn't know, or deflecting the question.

She always spoke her mind , regardless of the consequences of her honesty. What was, in my humble opinion, her greatest virtue, although it is also her biggest flaw.

And Irving also liked it, because he let out a short laugh that happily echoed through the stone walls. It certainly calmed part of my anxiety, because the First Enchanter would never have been relaxed if it was a serious matter.

Greagoir , on the other hand, did not share our sympathy - his narrowed eyes spoke for themselves , and I think hardly anything could have made his expression less friendly than it was now.

...

"And what might the gossips say?" Greagoir asked, crossing his arms.

"Bullshit," Helena shrugged, not taking her eyes off the Templar-commander. "That's precisely why they are called evil tongues." Maximilian cleared his throat overly loud, like a growl of reprimand, right by her side. "Sir," she added through gritted teeth, not giving the word the respect it derserved.

Greagoir just shook his head, frowning deeply.

"Your actions are not the main topic of this meeting, don't worry," reassured Irving, putting his glasses back on. "In fact , your behavior is excellent, and your apprentices are prospering greatly." He took one of the papers from his desk and stood, scanning quickly for the information." You've become an important member of the Circle, Helena, and as a way to reward you for the reliability you've given us during these last years, Greagoir and I agreed to assign you an important task outside of the tower."

Outside the tower... - the words echoed through the office like a glowing energy ball bouncing off the walls. Helena stared at them surprised, although she didn't know exactly what they meant. Maximilian, however, frowned behind his helm, unconsciously mirroring the frown that his uncle had made at the sound of those words.

If before he was apprehensive about the unknown, now he could hardly keep his throbbing heart inside his chest, so concerned he was about the huge list of problems that those three little words might imply.

"Outside the tower," repeated Helena, still incredulous. "What does that mean?"

Placing his elbows back on the table, Irving spent some time in silence with his chin resting on his hands, thinking of the right words to use to explanation.

"There's a riot going on in the north," he began, carefully studying the reactions of the mage. "Highever's army was divided, and part of it is organizing uprisings against the Teyrn..."

"My father?" She jumped up, clapping her hands against the table. "How so? How is my father? And my brothers? What ..."

"Calm yourself, child, they're fine," Irving said quietly, gesturing with his hands to ask her to sit down, "Just listen carefully..."

Helena followed his order and sat down again, her panting too intense for her to control.

"They have not attacked Highever directly yet," Irving continued, "But they will, eventually."

"Sir," interrupted Maximilian. "Why come to us, exactly?" He looked at Greagoir. "Why not ask Denerim directly?"

"Because the matter is more serious than it seems," replied Greagoir, uncrossing his arms." The situation in Denerim is not the most favorable. With King Maric missing, it is almost impossible to get any response from Denerim these days. "He walked to the window at the back of the room.

"Missing?" Helena asked, surprised. It was not as if she received information from outside very often, but suddenly the world seemed a bit more chaotic since the last time she'd had anynews.

"It's been over a month in which no one has heard from Maric," Irving replied thoughtfully. "The Elite are completely lost - leaderless and vulnerable. Rumors run without restrictions, and people even talk about a possible new occupation of Orlais," he sighed. "Everything indicates that the King is dead, but no one has taken the initiative to do something about it. It's not like Bryce had someone to turn to."

"But ..." Maximilian started, but Greagoir interrupted.

"No buts." He cut sharply. "We did not call you here to speculate." He turned, looking at them briefly before continuing. "Denerim may be going through a bad time, but Teyrn Loghain sent soldiers to help Bryce," He paused, walked back to the side of Irving. "The fact is that the presence of at least four apostates has been confirmed behind enemy lines. The presence of the Templars was requisitioned by the Chantry."

"Blood mages?" Maximilian asked , almost sure of the answer. If there was one thing that could destroy Greagoir's good mood, it was blood magic.

He just nodded, giving them time to process the information before continuing, "We will send a small group of Templars to deal with the problem." Greagoir paused for a moment, lowering his head as if he didn't wanted to say the next words," And out of consideration to Bryce Cousland, we'll also send some of our mages as reinforcement."

"And you, Helena, will be responsible for the two mages who will accompany you," Irving added, finding it best to take the lead in the conversation before Greagoir's rage could grow stronger. He pulled another sheet of paper, and again glanced quickly through the text. "Michael and Lenora will accompany you."

Helena just nodded in silence, absorbing every bit of information with anxiety. For, even though a civil war was a worrying matter, nothing could contain the excitement of going back home, even for one day. Maximilian just stared at her, worried, while Irving explained the rules and protocols that kind of situation demanded. It was the usual stuff about the use of magic in an improper place, constant surveillance, among others rules that she was tired of knowing.

"Maximilian," Greagoir called sharply, almost making the Templar jump again. "You will be responsible for her." When the riot had been revealed, Maximilian had already imagined that it was the reason for him being there, but still could not help but feel relieved to hear those words. He would not be at peace if he was not close to her, to make sure nothing bad would happened to her. "You know the rules."

"Constant vigilance, daily reports," The young Templar summarized his obligations promptly to ensure Greagoir that he was ready for the task." And full autonomy to enforce the commandments of the Order, if necessary."

"Good," said Greagoir, but his expression said otherwise. "Francyne and Marcelo will also play the same roles. They have already been informed." He crossed his arms again . "You will leave tomorrow morning, so I suggest you pack your things and get to sleep early."

"Yes sir," said Maximilian, bringing his fist to his chest.

"Your students have also been warned, and will be ready in the morning as well." Irving smiled, trying to lighten the mood in the room. "Upon arriving in Highever, you will receive instructions from Bryce personally. You are dismissed." Irving stood slowly, stopping beside Greagoir. "May the Maker watch over you."

"May He watch over us all," said Helena and Maximilian in unison, before giving a half turn to leave the room.

"I suggest that you have a good talk with your students before leaving, Helena." Greagoir added, causing her turn and face him again. The eyes of the Templar Commander were so sharp that she felt a chill run down her spine. "An apprentice is the reflection of her master. Their behavior outside this tower will reflect your teaching, as well as any consequences, will be your responsibility."

"You want to teach me how to do my job now?" Helena asked gruffly. Maximilian cleared his throat from where he stood beside her. "Sir?"

"So, you're confident that you can control them? Fair enough," Greagoir finally uncrossed his arms, putting both hands on the table, leaning his body forward. "I do not need to remind you that the rules of the Order are very strict about allowing the Magi to go outside their circles. Also, I don't have to remind you that the penalties for noncompliance are very rigid, and can hardly be appealed."

"I know, sir," she told him grudgingly, clenching her fists behind her.

"Great." Greagoir stood again. "Just a precaution, in case you had forgotten."

"As if anyone would ever let me forget," she growled through gritted teeth, holding Greagoir's sharp gaze with the same intensity.

"Dismissed."

Helena did not think twice and left the room like a whirlwind, with Maximilian following in her shadow.


I managed the feat of leaving that room more concerned than when I entered it.

At first, I was terrified, because none of the possible outcomes of that meeting with Irving pleased me, not even a little bit, and to be honest, I didn't see how it would not end in bloodshed. Whatever the rebuke applied, Helena would be terribly impaired, and truth be told, I walked into that room ready and willing to kill my own uncle, if only to protect her from the worst.

But participating in a civil war? That was not even on my list.

At least my companions were not corrupt, like some people that I do not care to mention. Francyne was my mentor, a woman of middle age who could spank most of the young recruits with both hands tied, and had a solid sense of loyalty. As for Marcelo ... We'd trained together, and as far as I knew, we shared the same principles. Well, at least he seemed to respect mine, which for me, was enough.

Just knowing that they wouldn't be a threat, part of me left the office a little less anxious. Not that this aspect in question was greater than the whole mess was in my mind right now, but it was less one concern from a huge list.

So many things could happen in the meantime, so many internal and external variables to consider, so many different outcomes and obstacles... Any misstep, be it hers or mine, would bring the Void to earth in the blink of an eye. This mission had, in theory, the same consequences of the Rite of Tranquility - both could indirectly end in death.

I could not be feeling more overwhelmed than I was in that moment.

Maker... Watch over us.

...

Maximilian was distracted, too involved with his long list of problems to notice Helena leaning against the wall in front of him. It was as if every step taken by the Templar added a new variable to his calculations of the unexpected, accumulating more concerns than his mind was able to process.

He only realized that the mage wasn't following him when the empty corridors of the tower began to echo just his own steps, instead of two.

He did not find her at first - he had to go a few steps back to find her sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. Her head was in her hands, her elbows on her knees and her legs flexed.

She definetly did not look good.

"Lady?" Maximilain called, kneeling beside her, placing a reluctant hand on her shoulders.

"Outside the tower," she said, without looking up. "Do you realize what this means?"

"I believe that taking a step through the main gate would fit that requirement, lady," he joked, tightening his grip. His reward was a low, but delicious giggle from her.

"I'm going home, Max," She looked at him, her eyes glistening with tears of happiness." I'm going home..."

Still smiling, he stood, reaching for the mage, who caught his hand, grateful for the help. All it took was a small tug to put Helena to her feet, standing in front of him.

"Thank you, Max," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion, keeping a strong grip on his hand.

Max sighed deeply, his heart aching with the pain that those simple words had caused in his heart. He was aware that she was not just grateful for just this small bit of help - she was going home, and she was happy about that, but ... What then? When the times comes and they have to return to the tower? Being responsible for her meant that he would also be responsible for her separation from her family once again. She'd told him how painful it was, how she missed her brothers, the people of the castle, her parents… The life Highever had provided her that this tower could not. It was not like he was ready for it, ready to receive her hatred for having robbed her of her life when he had a choice. If that was a choice, after all.

Or worse ... being forced to kill her because of it.

If she broke the rules, all the circunstances would force his hand to do something he did not want. And if not him, another Templar would do the job without the least hesitation.

The situation was not good, definitely, and the bad feeling grew increasingly as he accompanied her disappearing back towards her room.


The office was silent for a while, even after the strong slam of the door that marked the departure of the two. And the situation remained that way until Irving finally sighed, relaxing his shoulders.

"That was a little more intense than I was planning," the mage confessed, squeezing his own nape. "Do you not think that it was a bit unnecessary?"

"It was standard procedure, Irving," he replied, sighing too. "You know that."

"Such hatred in your eyes was also part of standard procedure?" Irving asked, smiling weakly upon seeing the lack of reaction from the Templar.

"This is madness," Greagoir sighed, defeated after a while, burying his face in one of his hands. "Helena leaving the tower with Maximilian... It's not right."

"You do not trust your own nephew, Greagoir?" Irving asked.

"It's not about trust," Greagoir's hand went up to his gray hair. "They are close, Irving, and this friendship worries me."

"I believe it would work well enough in this case."

"No, it's exactly the opposite." He threw his hands in the air, starting to walk in circles. "I still think I should send Urkov instead."

"Greagoir," Irving called seriously, causing the Templar to stop walking." I am well aware of your preference for Lieutenant Urkov, but Maximilian will do a good job." He put a friendly hand on his shoulder. "As for Helena..."

"She is dangerous."

"She 's still young," Irving defended. "She has a sharp tongue and is not afraid to challenge you, and for that alone, she is dangerous? This makes no sense."

"You know what I'm talking about." Greagoir walked back to the window, looking at the horizon with some concern. His arm still held the scar of their first conflict some years ago, when she was just a fourteen year old rebel girl with strong energy and little to no control. Now she was a grownup woman, with even more power and a control level that he wished she had. If at that time, she had easily destroyed a wagon and frozen the arm of the Templar commander, he wondered what she would be able to do now.

Actually he knew - and that's exactly what scared him the most.

"I think you should have a little more faith in your charges," Irving suggested , arranging the pads of paper on the table to align them.

"There is no room for faith in my work ," he replied dryly. "Just the facts, and nothing else."

Irving chuckled, amazed by the irony of his words. "Listen to yourself for a moment,"

"You have seen several of your best students turn into abominations before your own eyes, so you, better than anyone, should know what I mean." He knew that Irving shuddered at the memory, even without looking at him. "We share the same sympathy for them, my friend, but the fact is that all mages have the same chance of being possessed, and Helena is no exception."

"Still ..." Irving pressed his temples with his fingertips.

"You have chosen to always see the good side of people, but if you keep indiscriminately patting the head of your favorites ones, someday the consequences of your concessions will be greater than you can afford."

"We raised them, Greg." He leaned back in his chair. "We teach them right and wrong, how they should behave, and in most cases, partake more of their education than their own parents." He looked deeply into Greagoir's eyes. "If we don't have at least some faith in the people they have become, then we will be no more than mere jailers."

Greagoir sighed, walking towards the door. "One day you will pay for this excess of ingenuity. I just hope that the whole Tower does not pay for it."

"Still, you sent them on the mission," Irving smiled. "This means that you agree with me, even if it's at just a little."

Greagoir closed the door behind him without answering.