Chapter II: Conscripted

The moment Logan entered the room, he was greeted by several cries of relief merged into one messy uproar and cringed. They had probably been waiting a long time, for it was already dark outside. There was no time to waste, Logan decided; most of the templar patrols would have died down by now. His walk back to his room had been pleasantly uninterrupted and quiet—something he could never find in the daylight.

"Where have you been?" Garrett asked, looking particularly bored. "Jowan almost cried, thinking that you weren't coming."

Logan had to suppress a laugh as he glanced at Jowan, who could only protest in annoyance. "I was not! I was just worried!" he retorted, "I wondered if the First Enchanter had found out about our plan and did something to Logan."

"It was about something else," Logan said, eyeing Bethany and Garrett, "Something I'll have to tell you two later, after we get out of here."

"What's so important that we—" Logan put up a hand to silence Bethany, with a look in his eyes that was unmistakable. They had no time right now, and it would have to wait. Bethany sighed and picked up her belongings, crossed the room and swung open the door. "Come on then," she said, peering outside, "There are no templars on this level."

The trip down to the repository was easy—they had managed to slip past the templars undetected—but they didn't exactly expect whatever was inside the repository. The suits of armor had been awakened, and it seemed that there were tears in the Veil. While Logan mended the tears, Garrett, Bethany, Jowan and Lily fought off the sentinels—Logan was quite surprised to learn that Lily knew a bit of fighting—and they eventually cleared the path to their destination: the phylactery storage.

To their dismay, the door was locked, even after they had used the rod of fire on it. "Damn it," Logan cursed, "There has to be another way around. Come on."

He led them on a different route, and eventually ended up in a room filled with artifacts and strange statues—a room certainly valuable to the Circle. At first, Jowan had second thoughts about destroying any part of the room for fear that they might end up in trouble in the event that they were caught, but the rest persuaded him out of his cowardice.

"Stop squirming and help me move this bookcase," Garrett said, walking up to a lone bookcase at the north side of the room, "I'm pretty sure the repository's right behind this wall." Logan and Jowan approached the bookcase and pushed it to one side, only to face a brick wall.

"It's behind this, right?" Logan asked, looking at Garrett, "The mage that told you—she was reliable, wasn't she?"

"Well of course," Garrett said, "Trust me." Logan knocked lightly on the wall and found that it was extremely hard and tough to break, perhaps even by magic—he had hoped that it was hollow; a secret entrance to the repository for the mages in case something went wrong with the main door, but this was another obstacle they would have to deal with. He looked around the room as the rest spread out again to search for anything that might help them, when Bethany piped, "Look at this artifact—I've seen this before!"

"Where?" Garrett asked his younger sister, circling the stone animal. "Not in your dreams, I hope?"

"In a book," Bethany said, smacking her brother lightly on the arm, "It's an artifact used to amplify the normal power of magic. We could try using the rod of fire with this and see if it blows up the wall."

"Won't—won't the templars or anyone else hear us?" Jowan said, suddenly paranoid again.

Logan groaned. "Do you want to destroy your phylactery or not?"

Suddenly, a huge blast of fire was launched straight at the wall—Logan inwardly thanked the Maker that no one had been standing in the way—and sent it tumbling over into the repository in pieces. Logan glanced at the person behind the artifact, and it turned out to be Bethany.

"Maker, you could've blasted someone to bits!" Logan breathed, his heart still pounding from the shock.

Bethany giggled. "You were all wasting time!" she pointed out. Logan shook his head and smirked when he saw Jowan's expression of unbridled terror. He patted Jowan firmly on the back and dragged him into the storage room, filled with countless vials and bottles of different shapes and sizes, but all separated neatly and all labeled with the names of the apprentices that have yet to go through the Harrowing.

It was then that Logan spotted Jowan's. "Jowan, this is yours, right?" he said, staring at Jowan's name carelessly scribbled on a piece of parchment that was torn off and pasted onto one of the bottles.

"That's my phylactery!" Jowan said happily, before making a savage movement to grab them and throw them down the stairs, and then setting the broken bits and liquid on fire. He let out a laugh as his phylactery was reduced to ashes. "I did it… we did it! Thank you, thank you! You don't know how much this means to me!"

"Maker," Garrett muttered to his sister, "Was he always this mad, or was he hiding it from us?"

"Keep your voice down," Logan sighed, as Jowan embraced Lily, mad with joy. "Or the templars will hear us!"

"Oh, come on, you'd probably be this happy if it were your phylactery too!" Jowan exclaimed, still holding Lily and beaming.

Logan knew Jowan was right. If it had been his phylactery—why, he supposed that destroying it once and for all would certainly feel much better than freedom. The Circle wouldn't be able to track him down anymore—it was a personal goal to achieve alongside Garrett and Bethany once they were out of the Tower, and Logan made sure he remembered it well. He remembered once asking Irving why there were phylacteries for every mage, and remembered Irving explaining it to him with a sad look on his face.

"It is because when mages escape, the Circle will be able to track them down," Irving had said.

"Why would they escape?" Logan remembered himself asking, "If this weren't such a bad place with all these templars, no one would even think of escaping. It would feel like home, for once."

"This doesn't feel like home to you?" He remembered how sad and disappointed Irving had sounded—his favorite student had, after all, rejected everything the Circle was to Irving.

"No," Logan had said, "The templars know that, too. That's why we have phylacteries. They know a lot of people hate it here. The only ones who don't express it are the people who have given up."

Irving had looked surprised, then. Had his words taken effect on the enchanter, or have they simply fallen upon deaf ears? Logan didn't know—and he didn't have time to care. His only concern was getting out of here unscathed and getting as far as he could away from the Circle Tower.

He led them back up the stairs and out of the freezing phylactery storage chamber and found that the exit could now be accessed from his side. They ascended the stairs and out of the repository, only to be faced by Greagoir, Cullen and Irving. Every ounce of hope and excitement that consumed Logan was now non-existent as he looked away when he met Greagoir's angry face, and Irving's disappointed frown.

"Going somewhere?" Greagoir's voice was dripping with what Logan assumed to be triumph—he had finally found a valid reason to put Logan, Garrett and Bethany to their deaths, including Jowan and Lily.

"Well, we were just about to tell you that the repository's infested with sentinels!" Garret chipped in, trying to make light of the situation and find an excuse, "The Veil has been torn, so we being responsible and—"

"Responsible!" bellowed Greagoir, taking one step towards Logan and his companions. "There is nothing responsible about the lot of you! We've caught you red-handed this time, Amell, and trying to escape, even! You will suffer the consequences, as every other mage that tried to escape in the past. Your sentence will be death, nothing more, nothing less."

"And what could be worse than death?" Garrett murmured under his breath.

Irving let out a pained sigh. "You should have told me of your plans, Logan," he said, shaking his head.

"I was helping a friend," Logan said coolly, "And my family."

"You have made a serious mistake," Irving sighed, "I cannot help you this time, Logan. I am sorry."

Logan shook his head. "Don't be," he told Irving. "You've helped me in so many ways ever since I first arrived at the Circle. I should be the one thanking you here and now. You've done a lot for me and my cousins—I will not forget that."

"You're just giving up?" Jowan cried, "Just like that? After all we've been through—you're just gonna let them take us and turn me Tranquil?"

"So, you destroyed your own phylactery, Jowan," Greagoir growled, "It seems like you've sealed your fate in becoming Tranquil, after all. We were only considering the option at first, but it seems like you've given us the green light."

"No!" Jowan said, lunging at Greagoir and reaching for the templar's dagger, "I just want to get away from here and live with Lily! I'll not let you harm her or my friends!" In one swift movement, Jowan sunk the sharp blade into the palm of his hand and let the blood flow, his eyes fixed on Greagoir, filled with hate and fear at the same time. Logan knew what he was about to do—but he had never expected it. Garrett, Bethany and Lily all had the same look in their eyes—shock.

Jowan was a blood mage.

Before Logan could even make a move to stop his friend, a blinding explosion knocked everyone off their feet as Jowan used blood magic and sent Greagoir and Cullen crashing into the wall before he disappeared, leaving only a pool of blood on the carpeted floor. Logan groaned and struggled to his feet, with Garrett helping both Bethany and Lily up. He staggered over to Irving and helped the First Enchanter up, anger coursing through his veins at Jowan's betrayal.

"He was a good boy, back then," Irving said weakly, "Blood magic is something I never would have expected Jowan to tap into."

"He was a blood mage," Logan growled, "And he will pay for his deception."

Irving could only let out a sigh as he dusted himself. "It could have been prevented, all of this…" Logan winced. It was through him that they were able to destroy Jowan's phylactery and aid in his escape—it was through him that they would never be able to track down the bastard and gut him. Before Logan could even apologize to Irving, Greagoir rushed forth and pulled Logan away from the enchanter and threw him a hard blow in the face.

Garrett rushed forward and shoved Greagoir away aggressively, glaring at the templar. "I don't care if you are the Knight-Commander or the King of Ferelden," Garrett growled, "If you touch him one more time, you will wish you were never born."

"This is treason!" Greagoir roared, drawing his sword and advancing towards Garrett. He swung strongly at Garrett, who dodged easily and managed to deliver one swift kick to Greagoir's shin, causing the templar to cry out in pain and fall to his knees.

"This is for Logan's face, Greagoir," Garrett growled, preparing to strike him in the face. Bethany immediately rushed forward and held her brother back, fear in her eyes.

"Stop, don't make it worse," she told him. The older Hawke looked down at Greagoir with disgust in his eyes, before reluctantly turning away to attend to Logan. Logan reached up to his face and touched his bruise and winced in pain—being punched in the face with an armored fist was certainly something he wouldn't like to experience a second time.

"Enough." Logan looked up upon hearing Duncan's voice. The Warden's imperious tone penetrated the momentary silence as he stepped into view. "I'm afraid you've gone too far, Knight-Commander."

"You're just a Grey Warden," Greagoir retorted angrily, "You have no command over me!"

"He is right," Irving said, "You've crossed the line, Greagoir. Please, step back."

Garrett held a ramrod position and crossed his arms over his chest, keeping a vigilant eye on the Knight-Commander. Duncan stepped forth and observed the group of mages and regarded them thoughtfully. "What will you do with them?" he asked, turning to Irving.

"They will have to die!" Greagoir yelled, his voice echoing all around them like a final death sentence. Logan swallowed hard, his anger rising once more, drowning out the pain as Bethany tended to his bruise.

Duncan looked at Irving questioningly. The First Enchanter sighed deeply, as though he knew that Greagoir's words were absolute, and nodded silently. Duncan shook his head. He did not want to resort to this, but it was the only way if he were to recruit these three mages to the Ostagar war effort.

"Then I will invoke the Right of Conscription on these three young mages," Duncan announced, "They will come with me and become Grey Wardens."

"What?" Greagoir walked up to Duncan with a horrified look on his face. "We can't just let them go, after they've helped a blood mage escape from our clutches!"

"The Right of Conscription overrules everything—even the highest of authorities—and will draft anyone into the ranks of the Wardens," Duncan said calmly, seemingly unaffected by Greagoir's maddened expression, "It cannot be refused." The Grey Warden turned to look at the three mages, all of them seemingly surprised at his actions. He assumed that Logan hadn't told them about the impending battle at Ostagar, and decided that he would have to brief them all later along the way.

"Very well." Irving nodded, knowing that it was the only way Logan and the two Hawkes were going to keep their lives. "It is the best way."

"The best? They are traitors! Infidels!" Greagoir exclaimed, waving his sword at them.

Garrett chuckled. "Oh, get over yourself, Greagoir."

The Knight-Commander glared at Garrett, who in turn held an expression of mock terror as he placed his hand on his heart. Bethany hit her older brother as she shook her head—he always seemed to be incapable of grasping the seriousness of a lot of situations. Greagoir looked at Irving, who only nodded with a sort of finality in his eyes—the mages were to become Grey Wardens, whether he liked it or not.

"Fine!" he finally said, throwing his hands up in the air, "Fine. Take them with you—and make sure they never set foot in the Tower ever again!" Greagoir stormed off within the minute, with Cullen following closely behind him.

Duncan smiled as he turned to the three mages. "Pack your bags," he said, and when he noticed them already carrying their bags, he chuckled. "Come with me. We will head off to Ostagar shortly."

"First Enchanter?" came Lily's voice. "What… what will happen to me now?"

Irving seemed to consider this for a while, glancing from the young initiate to Logan. Eventually, he spoke. "You will return to your prior duties, initiate. It was not your fault—you were deceived just as much as these three, yes?"

Lily's eyes widened with surprise. "Thank you, First Enchanter, thank you!"

"Lily!" Logan walked up to her, concern in his eyes. "What about… you know…"

"He lied to us, Logan," Lily said firmly, "I cannot bring myself to forgive him. He is no longer the Jowan I knew—the Jowan we both knew. It's all right, Logan. This is where we part—and thank you for everything you've done for… Jowan and I. Though he probably doesn't deserve your loyalty."

Logan's lips stretched into a crooked smile. "And he doesn't deserve your love," he whispered, so that no one else could hear, "But never close yourself off from it. Even though you are an initiate of the chantry… well… it's a big world out there."

Lily smiled appreciatively. "I'll keep that in mind. Andraste be with you, Logan Amell."

He nodded and turned back, and saw that Garrett and Bethany were already saying their goodbyes to Irving. He walked up to them, unsure of what to say. He adjusted his backpack and stood next to Garrett.

"Take care of yourself, Logan," Irving said, "I will always welcome you back home."

Logan shook his head, mildly surprised that Irving still had hoped for Logan to have accepted this prison as a home. Somehow, Logan couldn't blame him. "It's not home," he told the First Enchanter, "But I thank you for everything, as I have said. If I were to remember anything about the Circle, it would be you. Until we meet again, First Enchanter."

Irving smiled as he watched the retreating figures of the three mages, as they followed Duncan into the darkness of the night. "Yes," he whispered, "Until we meet again, my boy."

"The Blight?" repeated Garret, sitting up from his sleeping bag, "It's starting again?"

Duncan smiled, despite the heavy weight sitting upon his shoulders. Even though these three were young, he had no doubts as to their abilities and strength to come out of the Joining alive. He had no qualms about what they did at the Tower—he only knew that three more Wardens meant a lot to the Fereldan Grey Wardens. Besides, they were endearing—especially Bethany. He just hoped Alistair would be able to handle them.

"It's been so long since the last Blight," Bethany said, hugging her knees as they sat around the campfire, "It's a little terrifying, to say the least."

"It is," Duncan agreed. "Even the strongest of Grey Wardens have faltered in their footsteps when they laid their eyes on the archdemon. It would take a strong fighter to face the creature and defeat it. That is why I chose the three of you."

"I thought we were just chosen just because we're needed to fight," Garrett said, "Not become Grey Wardens—but who's complaining? As long as it gets me away from Greagoir, I'm fine with it!"

Bethany rolled her eyes. "And here I thought you lost your sense of humor because it was scared off."

Garrett chuckled. "Never in a lifetime, little sister," he told her, laying back down on his sleeping bag and looking up at the sky. "That's some sky up there."

"I remember the last time we saw it—remember? The ride to Lake Calenhad—the templars couldn't stop us from peering outside the carriage!" Bethany recalled, smiling at the memory. "You even smacked one of them in the face and they couldn't do anything about it because we were just children."

"Yeah," Garrett said, "The inside of the carriage was dusty and dirty, too. Probably transported a lot of people like us, huh?"

"Yeah," Bethany murmured, "We were so young. Do you remember the look on mother's face?"

"I could never forget," Garrett answered. His voice was suddenly a little shaky and strangled. "She was crying out for us, and a neighbor had to hold her back so she wouldn't run after us." He let out a deep sigh and sat up again. "They killed father, too."

Bethany shook her head and closed her eyes, feeling the tears return after so long. She hadn't cried about her father in such a long time, she almost forgot what it was like to wake up in the middle of the night as a child, calling for her father before realizing that he was already long gone. It was something she never wanted to go back to.

"I am sorry," Duncan said, his tone comforting and sympathetic.

"No, it's okay," Bethany said reassuringly, wiping away a few tears that had escaped. "It's been so long; I think I'm nearly immune to it."

Garrett pursed his lips and glanced at Logan, who was sitting quite a distance away from the campfire. Duncan noticed Garrett looking at his cousin and stood up. "I'll talk to him," Duncan said quietly, "Go to sleep, both of you. We have a long day ahead tomorrow."

Garrett chuckled. "Yes father," he said teasingly, causing Bethany to laugh a little as well. "I haven't said that in years!"

The voices of the two siblings became softer as Duncan approached Logan, who was leaning against a nearby tree. Duncan sat down next to him, trying to guess what he was thinking. Ever since they left the Tower, Logan had become very quiet and reserved—his face had also become barely readable.

"Are you thinking about Jowan?" Duncan asked.

Logan said nothing.

"We all experience betrayal in our lives," Duncan continued, as though Logan had actually responded, "We must learn to live and let live, sometimes, because by thinking of them constantly, we would only be wasting our time. Am I right?"

Logan's face remained the same—empty, emotionless and still. It was almost remarkable how well he could remain so motionless, save for the heaving of his chest as he breathed. "Forget about Jowan," Duncan advised him, "He is no longer important to any of us. Not anymore, at least. Not even to Lily."

"How'd you know that?" Logan said suddenly, turning to Duncan.

"Jowan was holding her hand—and I was observing from afar," Duncan pointed out. "I may be old, but my eyesight is still working."

Logan let out a soft 'hmph' and went back to staring straight into nothingness. "I hate him for what he did to us," Logan said quietly, "After all that we went through for him and Lily—after everything we agreed to just to save his ass…"

"He has no one now," Duncan said, placing a hand on Logan's shoulder, "He is alone, isn't he? He is worse off than the three of you—even Lily. Lily has been given a second chance—something I am sure the chantry would not allow if they knew of her defiance. All of you have found some sort of freedom—except him. He will always run, because he is now an apostate. A blood mage. He is in much graver danger than any of you are now."

Logan seemed to consider this for a moment. "I suppose," he finally said. "It's his loss, right?"

"Right," Duncan agreed, chuckling, "And it is not your fault. It never was your fault. You did the right thing—yes, that's what I said. The right thing. You were a true friend to him and Lily, and your loyalty never wavered until the very last second. That makes you a better man than Greagoir thinks you are. When you have the greatest skills and the strongest abilities, you are a fighter—a warrior. But without character and a steadfast heart, you are worse than even the darkspawn—who possess an unwavering loyalty to their archdemon."

"What a strange comparison," Logan said, feeling slightly amused yet encouraged, "But thank you, Duncan."

"You're welcome." Duncan stood up and offered his hand to Logan. "Now let's get some sleep, shall we?"

Logan smiled, for the first time that night, and took the older man's hand, knowing that he was on his way to a better life, now that he was out of the Circle. Not even the Blight could take away his returning hopefulness for the future.