"Me?"
"Yes you, Jowan," Edmund confirmed. "We're the only ones who've been inside the Tower before. Knowing the layout just might save us from whatever problems there are."
Jowan hated the logic behind that. "And what if Greagoir decides I don't get to leave?"
"Worse things have happened," Sten grumbled.
"I won't let him," Edmund said, ignoring the Qunari. "You are a Grey Warden now, so you're above the Templar Order and the Chantry."
"That's not completely true," Alistair advised.
"He could perform blood magic right in front of the Knight-Commander and get away with it, couldn't he?" asked Edmund.
"Not that I would!" Jowan was quick to add.
A sour twist of his lips darkened Alistair's features, what Jowan could make of them at the late hour. "In theory, yes, but I wouldn't suggest testing the theory."
Jowan didn't reply. He'd already tested his luck once with blood magic, giving away the trick up his sleeve. Knight-Commander Greagoir and the other templars knew what he could do. Their training surpassed his heightened magical prowess tenfold, and he didn't even have a staff.
He nodded his reluctant approval to join the party heading to Kinloch Hold. The Circle of Magi wasn't open to random visitors. It isolated mages from the rest of the world, to protect them from non-mages and themselves. There was a reason the Circle Tower was on a lake, accessible only by rowboat. Jowan had needed steal one to get away.
But now the Circle Tower was under lockdown, and it was clear something had happened. The templar Carroll stood guard at the docks, preventing ferry to or from the Circle. A cookie bribe from Sten—a bizarre exchange—had earned them access to Kinloch Hold. But the boat was only so big, and not everyone could go.
"So who's coming with us?" Edmund asked, leaving an open invitation to anyone but Jowan. Maybe there was more to it than just familiarity with the location. The sooner Jowan proved he wasn't a threat, well, the sooner they'd quit seeing him as such.
Sten sneered at Kinloch hold with violet eyes. "I joined you to fight darkspawn. I will not find my atonement in the house of saarebas."
Atonement? Sten's searching for forgiveness too? That Jowan could have anything in common with the quiet mountain of a man was a wild notion. Their view on darkspawn certainly differed. Sten had battled the tainted creatures and showed little concern for them. To him, darkspawn were just another foe. Jowan, now sworn to fight the Blighted beasts, was absolutely terrified. And he'd only encountered darkspawn in stories; the roads had been empty during the three day journey from Redcliffe to the Circle. Jowan was the only one in the bunch untested against the darkspawn. He prayed he wouldn't falter on the day that changed.
"You're half again the size of anyone else on the team," Edmund said to Sten. "Perhaps it's for the best we don't drop you into a tiny boat wearing heavy chainmail. Plus you can go looking for your sword while we're away." He was obviously trying to avoid Sten's slight on mages. Qunari treatment of mages made any Circle of Magi in Thedas a life of luxury by comparison. Templar abuse was not uncommon, but chains and collars were "proper" care for saarebas.
Regardless, Sten nodded. Edmund turned to the remaining three party members and his mabari, Duke. "With our good friend Carroll steering, we're left two more spots on the boat. Who else wants to see the Circle of Magi?"
Morrigan spoke up and made the point moot. "I am not restricted to crossing the lake in a boat. And I will not miss out on an opportunity to examine the gilded cage mages condemn themselves to. There must be something attractive about oppression to draw in so many."
"A simple 'Alistair and Leliana can ride in the boat' would have sufficed," Ed droned. "Assuming you two want to go."
"Of course," said Leliana. "I am also intrigued to see the Circle Tower, though I wouldn't have worded it so... bluntly."
"And if there's trouble with the mages, one more templar couldn't hurt." Alistair studied the Tower, lacking the contempt Sten had displayed. "Even a disgraced templar who never completed his training. They must have some need of those."
If there's use for templars like that, then a mage like me could make a difference too.
They piled into the rowboat with Carroll, brushing the crumbs of his bribe away from his mouth. The five of them made for a tight squeeze, even with the bulk of their supplies left in their rented rooms at the Spoiled Princess. Jowan brought nothing but his soiled robe, small clothes, and leather boots. They pushed off the jetty, leaving Sten, Duke, and Morrigan on the shoreline. She walked away and disappeared into darkness. The giant and mabari were a gradual fade into obscurity as the boat glided across the water.
As they sailed, Edmund and Leliana chatted about the Circle. Alistair joined in when he could, but concentrated more on paddling in rhythm with Carroll. They were gathering as much information as they could, anything that might have importance. Jowan sat quiet in thought, having nothing to contribute that Ed wasn't telling them. He was doing his best not to have a panic attack. A known maleficar waltzing into the Circle of Magi was unheard of. Regulations likely commanded "kill on sight." Edmund's guarantee of protection meant little. By Loghain's decree, Grey Warden lives are forfeit, just like a blood mage's—and I'm both.
Forcing his mind elsewhere, Jowan focused on the spire. He remembered the first time he saw it, five or six summers old. He'd been frightened by the the metal men bearing Andraste's Flaming Sword of Mercy. Father called them mage hunters, and hunters killed their prey. But the Circle Tower had left him in awe. In his village—the name long lost to him—the largest building had been the local chantry. Kinloch Hold was three times taller if not more. It was sleeker and born from the depths of Lake Calenhad, his imagination had assumed. The shattered bridge standing to this day had been a beacon of hope. Nearly inaccessible, young Jowan had believed the Tower was a safe haven. He would learn to control his magic in a place where he'd do no harm. Once he was ready, the metal men would let him return home to show his mother he wasn't an abomination.
"I was wrong," he whispered sadly.
"Wrong about what?" Edmund asked.
"It's nothing... just thinking out loud."
The boat reached the small dock at the base of Kinloch Hold some time later. Carroll ushered them out as fast as he could. "I don't want to be here when the Knight-Commander learns you're here," he explained in a rush. Jowan had barely set foot on dry land before the lyrium-addled templar made his retreat.
"Such bravery, these templars have."
Jowan jumped. Morrigan slithered into the moonlight, her daunting yellow eyes an unexpected surprise. There was no chance she could have swam faster than the boat, and she was bone-dry. He couldn't figure it out. "How did you get over here?"
"Blood magic is just one of several practices the Chantry deemed forbidden," she said. "My mother taught me a few of them."
"Shapeshifer," Edmund clarified.
"Wow..." Jowan failed at practical applications, but he'd developed an intense interest studying magic. Knowledge was power, even if he'd planned to put his then limited power aside to... to keep Lily safe. The Circle had no formal ban on the practice of shapeshifting; there was no need. All the texts on the subject said the art was lost ages ago, with no one left to teach or learn it, not even from demons. Uldred protested the secret had to still exist somewhere, possibly passed along by hedge mages or the Dalish. He was right.
"The Chantry forbids those schools of magic for a reason, you know," said Alistair.
"You didn't protest when Mother plucked you and your fellow Grey Warden off the Tower of Ishal. Does the Chantry teach their devout to whine and snivel when their laws are broken lest something is gained?"
"No, I learned to whine and snivel all on my own, thank you very much."
"Perhaps we can continue this debate after we've secured help for Connor?" Leliana suggested.
Ed nodded. "I think that's a splendid idea." He didn't wait for Alistair or Morrigan to comment. He strolled up to the entrance of Kinloch Hold and knocked with his staff.
The response was slow, but eventually arrived. "Carroll, the Knight-Commander told you..." began a helmeted templar as he cracked open one of the doors. He trailed off once the five-member party was in view, three of them mages and no sign of Carroll. "What's the meaning of this? Who are you?"
"We're Grey Wardens," Edmund announced. "Half of us, anyway. We've come seeking allies against the Blight, as obligated by our treaty with the Circle of Magi."
"We also need mages and lyrium sent to Redcliffe," Alistair chimed in. "The lives of Arl Eamon Guerrin and his son Connor depends on it!"
"Then they are dead," said the templar. "The Circle of Magi is unable to deliver assistance at this time."
He started closing the door. Edmund slipped his metallic staff into the doorway first. "We at least deserve a better excuse than none at all."
"You'd better get going, mage," the templar warned. "Your kind has caused enough trouble already."
He reached to remove the staff from the opening. Edmund the Impulsive moved faster. He froze the templar's gauntlet to staff and door, the buildup of frost trapping all three in place. The templar called for backup and struggled to break free.
Edmund stepped back and faced the team. "Well, we have their attention now, for better or worse."
"I would not put high hopes on 'better'," Alistair said.
"If they take us prisoner, we'll discover what is happening to the Circle," Leliana said. Her Orlesian accent helped put a positive spin on the possibility of arrest. Jowan was almost fooled.
"'Twould not be wise for them to try," Morrigan mused.
The double doors burst open. Edmund's staff toppled over and rolled down the slight incline. Two more templars had appeared to help the first, and all three were staring at the party. In unison they cast a Holy Smite. Jowan's connection to the Fade wrinkled, sapping all the energy in his body to nothing. He started falling. The Smite his Edmund and Morrigan just as hard, but they had Alistair and Leliana to catch them. Jowan had no one, and doubted Sten would have done anything were he there. He slammed onto the ground, knocking the wind out of him.
A migraine swelled in his skull and the world was spinning. Jowan closed his eyes, hoping his rolling stomach wouldn't expel what little he'd eaten. He relied on his ears to paint a picture of the scene; most prominent was the crashing of steel on stone floor. A fourth templar approached the smiting trio. "We don't have the room to detain them." His voice was familiar and filled Jowan with dread. "There are more pressing matters than supposed Wardens. Toss them into Lake Calen—"
The senior templar faltered and his footsteps stopped. "Amell?" Then he fiercely added, "Jowan?!"
Scraping of a sword unsheathed beckoned Jowan to open his eyes. He listened, to his great misfortune. The situation he was in seemed ripped straight from his nightmares. Knight-Commander Greagoir, his face burning hot with unbridled fury, had his sword point aimed right at Jowan's throat.
"You shouldn't have come back," he spat.
A/N: I mentioned this story was born from a Minor Character Challenge. The challenge came from a Facebook group called the "Dragon Age Fanfiction Writers" group. It's open to anyone interested in the Dragon Age fandom and has six hundred members.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a review if you did, or to leave some constructive criticism.