[Written by the hand of Talita da Motta, Knight-Commander of Rivain, as she is held prisoner by Antivan Crows.]
[Recap: Talita, a young templar in training, has been given a mysterious task by the Grand Cleric herself. She is heading to Fereldan; a frightening prospect in of itself, unknowing that the Blight is already stirring there]
Chapter 4: Spirit of Opportunity
Well before dawn the next morning, I dressed for travel. It had been many years since my last voyage at sea; despite my misgivings about our destination, I was excited. As a young girl I had loved to sail with my father. He'd taught me everything, from reading the sky to working the ropes. I imagined that, had things happened differently, I would have been a sailor, maybe perhaps a first mate on my way to a captain's berth. Lost in these thoughts, I was completely unprepared when I crashed into Angelo's chest as I stepped into the hallway outside my cell.
"Knight-Commander!" I stammered, mortified. What was he doing here, at this unholy hour? "Is something wrong?" I asked.
"No, Talita, nothing is wrong," he assured me as he lent a steadying hand. Glancing at my travel bag and light armor, he ventured, "All set?"
I nodded. "Yes, Commander."
He paused and I sensed hesitation. From Angelo? I felt my pulse quicken in alarm.
"Talita," he began, "Be careful. This journey will take you far away from everything you know. Ferelden can be a dark and dangerous place. And I – I will not be there to protect you."
His vow to my mother. I instantly understood. "I promise to be careful," I said, although I'd never really been careful a day in my life, as Angelo knew well.
He studied me for a long moment. In the dim torchlight, I saw lines of worry around his eyes. It suddenly occurred to me that he did not want me to leave, but was not about to gainsay the Grand Cleric's choice. My heart filled with a strange emotion. He was worried about me, as a father would be. I was embarrassed, my vision blurred. He hugged me then, and I knew it would be moment I would never forget. I felt the fatherly strength of his arms and will of his spirit protecting me, wanting me to be safe.
He released me at last, and kissed my forehead in blessing. I was beyond words as he cleared his throat. "Ah, yes, and there is one more thing—"
I listened and nodded, still unsure of what to say. Angelo untied an embroidered leather pouch from his belt and offered it to me. As my fingers closed around the leather, however, he held up a finger to stop me.
"A small test first, Talita. Tell me, what do you sense, inside the bag?"
My fingers tingled strangely, even before he'd finished his question. What did I sense? A sphere inside the bag, but there was something else. Something more. Instantly, my curiosity chased away the awkwardness of the previous moments.
"Its …warm …" I ventured, as Angelo was waiting for my response. "And ..alive? It seems to vibrate, or hum."
Angelo smiled broadly and his eyes twinkled with delight. "Exactly so! Open it!"
I untied the silk cord with trepidation. Inside I found a glass sphere filled with a luminescent blue fog, or was it sand? Or a liquid? I lifted the ball out of the pouch to examine it more carefully. The blue essence inside the sphere seemed to both flow and float simultaneously.
"Is this …lyrium?" I asked. This bordered on advance training, I suddenly realized. Training that was forbidden a novice like me, yet here it was in my hand.
"Yes, an essence of lyrium. Some call it 'mana'. It is an energy, although it can also be found in a liquid mixture. This sphere was created using a process that is now lost to the Circle. We Templars use these mana spheres to learn mastery over it. Without this energy, a mage cannot work his magic. Unfortunately, these baubles are rare now, and many Templars are trained using lyrium itself. Long, direct exposure to lyrium ruins the mind, Talita. Avoid it! Master the sphere instead. It is a longer, more difficult path, but a stronger one in the end."
He touched the edge of the crystal glass and the blue essence fled from him, flattening itself to the far side of the ball. It was dark and dormant. This was the very heart of a Templar's power!
He removed his touch and the mana began to flow and brighten once again.
He wanted me to take this gift, this rare magic thing? "It might break on the journey," I protested.
"The glass is unbreakable, save by magic. You will have many long hours on the ship. It is time not to be wasted."
Footfalls sounded down the nearby stairwell and Angelo quickly returned the sphere to its pouch and placed it in my hand.
"You have your orders, trainee." He said to me as one of his assistants approached us.
I saluted, an arm across my chest and a bow. "Yes, Knight-Commander," I answered crisply.
His assistant also saluted. "The First Enchanter seeks a word with you, ser."
"Then let us go and see what he wants."
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In the courtyard a wagon had been prepared and several horses were saddled. The First Enchanter was indeed waiting. He was a tall, thin man with long hair, a pointed nose and piercing dark eyes. Romaldruin was his name, and he was rumored to have descended from Tevinter stock, from a dalliance between an Imperial Magister and a local Rivaini during the last of the Exaulted Marches against the Qunari. Although I'd seen the man before, I'd never heard him speak. His voice was surprisingly deep for such a reedy-looking man.
"Knight-Commander!" he called to Angelo as we approached. "There has been a last-minute addition to the roster. Despite my assurances that you would approve, your lieutenant is quite adamant that I have your direct approval for the change."
The lieutenant in question, Ivonetta, frowned. She stepped forward. "The procedures are clear, First Enchanter. I meant no offense."
Angelo held up a hand to Ivonetta, but addressed Rumaldruin. "Are you wanting to travel to Fereldan, First Enchanter?"
"Me? Maker, no! But this young mage, Joao Carlos, has important business at the Circle Tower in Fereldan. He has received an invitation from First Enchanter Irving to continue his studies there for a few years, and I have given my approval. Will you not see that he is escorted there safely, Knight-Commander?"
Ivonetta, clad in full-body Templar armor, stood scowling. It wasn't an auspicious beginning for our voyage. The Knight-Lieutenant was obviously not a superstitious woman; my grandmother's warning about remembering to smile at all partings came to mind. The spirits, she said, were opportunists, lurking and watching our comings and goings, looking for any sign of strife, of disgruntlement. "So make your heart light and think positive thoughts, so that all we be well while those you love are away," she'd admonished me.
Angelo, as always, was calm. "They are scheduled to meet with some Templars in Denerim on the return voyage, Romaldruin, it should be no trouble at all to see your mage safely there and entrusted to their care."
The First Enchanter nodded, seemingly satisfied. Ivonetta barely contained her ire until Romaldruin had stepped away. She turned to Angelo. "Knight-Commander! We were not advised in advance about this transfer! The arrangements—"
"Be easy, Ivonetta. It is our duty. See the boy to Denerim safely. He is not a trouble maker, or we'd already know of him."
Ivonetta saluted. "I will send word ahead to the captain of the Seadance, ser," she offered.
Angelo nodded. The lieutenant turned and stalked away, but not before casting an irate glare at the newest member of our party. Joao Carlos was a tattooed young man with earrings, decorations that spoke of hailing from a Rivaini family of wealth and influence. The First Enchanter was doling out some final instructions to him, and I watched as the younger man bowed respectfully, hefted his satchel over his shoulder and headed in our direction.
Angelo greeted him and asked, "Is this your first sea voyage, Joao Carlos?"
"No, Knight-Commander, but my first since I was very young," he answered. "Thank you, ser, for allowing me to join the expedition."
"After weeks at sea and days spent in the cold Fereldan rain, I wonder if you will still feel as grateful."
[Author's Note: It stands to reason that the Templar Order was not founded as a bunch of addicts: yet, the skill required to disperse mana is not found in every recruit, and so, eventually, they found ways to compensate. Lyrium is the steroid addiction of the Order: so easy to justify, especially in those situations where lives may be at stake. Unfortunately, direct lyrium use is a crutch, a cheap shortcut to power, much like the DARK SIDE of the Force. And, like the Dark Side, it yields only sorrow and death wherever it is embraced]
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