All Fall Down
By: SurreptitiousFox245
Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or Elder Scrolls. All rights go to their respective persons. I only own my OCs.
Quick Author's Note: Well...this one's kinda long to try and make up for the wait. Both me and my beta have been kinda busy, me with sorting out some college stuff and him with...whatever the hell he does. I think he was camping...maybe... Either way, apologies all around, and enjoy!
"Our days are numbered
in the world of fools.
We feel the hunger,
and follow no one's rules.
Everybody wants a turn on life –
nobody can seem to get it right.
Our days are numbered,
and you're no fool.
Nobody's fool."
-Black Veil Brides "Days Are Numbered"
Chapter 5
~Thedas 9:34 Dragon~
"Ow! Get off my foot!"
"I ain't on your foot! It's your dagger hilt that's gettin' comfy in my ribcage!
"Oh, just shut up!" your voice hissed quietly as you jerked the offending spiky glass pommel away from Dand's armored person with a little more force than was necessary. "You're going to tip someone off that we're here!"
The Fereldan made an exaggerated motion towards himself, "I'm gonna' tip someone off? You're the one who bloody well started it!"
You glared, and even though your mask prevented your accomplice from seeing the gesture, you felt him flinch in response, "Gods damn it, just let it go! We don't know when that Templar is going to circle back!"
Dand grumbled a curse under his breath, but quickly fell silent after a firm shove to his shoulder seemed to get your point across. The storeroom (if you could even call it that – it was really more of an overlarge closet) the two of you had temporarily barricaded yourselves in was dark. The only sliver of light illuminating the small space came from a crack between the wooden door and the stone door jamb that you and the warrior had squished yourselves rather uncomfortably into a corner to avoid standing too close to.
You both froze as the tell-tale sounds of heavy boots slapping against carpet-covered flagstones sounded from down the curving hallway. The gait was set in a military-style march that told you it was the Templar assigned to patrol the third level of the Circle tower, and the very person you and Dand had been trying to avoid for the past hour and a half. The two of you had managed to do it, but only by the skin of your teeth.
Sneaking into the Circle had actually been more difficult than you had anticipated, and you only had yourself to blame for the folly. Your decision to bring Dand with you on the little self-imposed mission had admittedly been spur of the moment, and thus poorly planned. When you had forced the issue and all but dragged the warrior to where you had a boat of your own hidden away a good mile or so south from the dock, you had really only been thinking of Dand's impressive awareness of his surroundings that caused him to be as perceptive as he was and the benefits the trait could have in trying to find your two targets. You hadn't taken into account his clunky heavy armor laid over top jingling chainmail, or the large stone block miraculously fixed atop a long, uneven staff of wood your main informant called a "warhammer". You remembered asking about how the handle didn't snap under the weight like a twig, but had only gotten some rant about the wood being "magically reinforced" that you had honestly let go in one ear and out the other.
At any rate, once the two of you had successfully maneuvered across the watery stretch of Lake Calenhad without being detected by any of the outside patrols, you were left with the grueling task of trying to sneak inside. That was where you had first regretted bringing Dand with you. While you had been sure to keep yourselves tucked into the shadowy corners, the warrior's armor was not suited for sneaking and you had raised suspicion not even halfway through the entrance hall. Add in the garish orange color the metal plates had been stained (a "style preference", Dand had argued once, that according to him made him seem more formidable in battle), you had been quick to realize that you were dragging along a flashing beacon that all but loudly shouted, "Hey, look at me! I'm breaking into your heavily fortified tower and pretty much advertising to the general public that it would be all too easy for your mages to escape! Catch me if you can!" down the winding halls.
Hence why you and the gigantic oaf were hiding in a storeroom – the norm for the time you were sneaking through the halls rather unsuccessfully had consisted of ducking into the odd side room to avoid the now very much alert Templars on patrol through the tower's varying levels and praying to every deity you could think of between the two of you that you wouldn't accidentally rush into an occupied room. Luck had seemed to be on your side so far, but wryly you wondered just how long that would last. Gloved fingertips had itched to cast a muffle and invisibility spell, your usual procedure for situations such as the one you found yourself in, but with Dand accompanying you, that plan had been tossed out the proverbial window to swim with the fishes in the lake stories below. Sure, you trusted Dand not to rat you out to the nearest Templar for using magic. Mara's mercy, you thought, it would be suicidal for him, too. Especially so considering he was just as much in the wrong for breaking into a Circle as you were without the blatant use of your magic. It was just that doing so would cause questions and problems you really didn't feel like dealing with. Too much work, you reasoned.
But damn if the option wasn't sounding more and more appealing the longer you were stuffed into the gods' forsaken closet with the insufferable brute…
"Hey, Sighs, d'ya even know exactly who we're - ?" Dand started whispering, but you deliberately shifted so as to jab the handle of your dagger into a soft spot in his armor.
The whimpered groan of pain was almost satisfying, "I know what I'm doing, fool."
He rubbed at the offending spot, "Really? What do this arcanist and mage even look like, then? You ain't got a clue, do you? Never thought I'd see the day when you, of all people, wasn't prepared months in advance!" Dand's tone was mockingly dry. You scowled deeply (admitting that the truth sometimes stung…sometimes) and aimed another hit with your dagger that ended up being slightly off the mark.
"'Ay! Watch the armor. You're gonna' scratch it," whining pitifully at the clang of glass on metal, there was a light scraping sound that signified the soft leather underside of the Fereldan's gauntlets gently running over his cuirass. Whether he was actually looking for damage to his armor or simply mocking you was anyone's guess, but you sent a blind glower in the man's direction regardless. Insufferable chaurus-wrestling moron… You couldn't give two flying nugs about the fact that Dand didn't even know what a chaurus was, let alone that he would probably never wrestle one (though you would have paid good coin to see it, if only you could, for one, actually see, and two, get to witness Dand's face getting burned off by the acid. No one ever said you weren't a bit sadistic). You also apparently didn't care that you had picked up a common dwarven curse sometime in the four years you'd lived in Thedas. The wonders of tending to work closely alongside the charming business of Lyrium smuggling…
Twitching your nose absently as a drop of adrenaline-induced sweat trickled uncomfortably down the length of it, you silently cursed your heat-trapping mask and heavy clothing for not the first time since entering the tower, "How old are you, four? Come off it, it's just armor. Get it polished later if you're so worried about it. And to answer your question, I haven't the slightest idea, but how many dwarves are you going to see hanging around a Circle of Magi?"
"How in the Maker's bloody name should I know?" Dand growled, though he thankfully had enough sense about him to keep his voice down. "Do I look like I'm well-versed in this sort of thing? Nope? Right. Thought not. And don't tell me to 'come off it'! You better be hopin' you didn't scratch my damn armor, Sighs!"
Just as you opened your mouth to angrily retort, there was a quiet, choppy giggling sound that rang through the air and seemed to linger heavily with awkwardness. Your face contorted into an expression of horrified confusion as you turned it in Dand's direction incredulously. A feather light touch of your fingertips to his armor told you that he was making the same face in turn.
"Did you just giggle?"
The face you were making got even more ridiculous at his question, "Um, no. I think the better question here is: Did you giggle?" The burgeoning discomfort from the situation was weighing heavily on you only for a brief moment, when a decidedly feminine yelp of surprise sounded out to replace the laughter.
"Okay, that ain't me. Sighs?"
"The day I squeak is the day you ditch your armor for something less gaudy."
Blinking, the two of you murmured in simultaneous conclusion, "Someone's in here."
Pressing your fingers to the wall behind you, you peered around the hazy image of the storeroom you were provided with. It was dark save the sliver of light from the misshapen door and was cluttered with shelves and boxes filled with various magical baubles and oddities, but there was one spot off in an adjacent corner, behind a supply table laden with excess parchment, which you were just then realizing was occupied.
That empty-room streak didn't last very long…that's what I get for opening my big mouth, you mused to yourself as you continued your investigation. A booted foot was peeking out from the darkened corner, and the embroidered edges of silken robes sparkled in the dim lighting. The figure was either very short or curled up very tightly into the crevasse created by the joining walls and the sturdy legs of the desk, and the more you studied the strange anomaly, the more you started to convince yourself that it was a combination of the two. The tip of an auburn ponytail could be seen glinting a fiery shade of vermillion, and though the hairstyle didn't really define the person's gender, it combined with the giggle and squeak prior all but confirmed that the third party was female.
Dand's hand reaching around his warhammer broke you out of your observational stupor, "Come out. Now." Frowning, you doubted that the person, whoever she was, posed much of a threat. Grudgingly, however, your rational mind won over your instincts and your hands came to rest lightly on the hilts of your daggers. Just in case.
There was a brief pause intermingling with the potent stench of fear overlaid by dangerous curiosity lingering in the air before a rustling sound indicated movement. Scuffling ensued shortly after as the mystery woman did as she was asked and stepped into the minimal light.
"I'm sorry," she chirped, thankfully keeping her voice soft. You froze. Her accent was what in Thedas passed as dwarven. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I was in here looking for some spare parchment when you two came in. You're obviously armed and I didn't really have any way to get out, so I just stayed…"
Relaxing, you flashed a smile before you could really think about the action, "It's alright. I'm sorry about intruding." Dand's scoff quickly turned into a grunt of pain as you made a point of stepping on his unarmored foot sharply. Note to self: Make Dand buy armored boots…
The woman seemed to blink, "I…I'd say it's alright, but you're clearly trespassing. Not that it's any of my business – it's not! But I do study here. And live here. And you kind of look like an assassin…"
"An assassin, Sighs? I told you to switch out some of the black for another color. You bein' stubborn's really comin' back to bite you in the arse," snickered Dand despite the seriousness of the situation. Your hand twitched as you fought the urge to pull out one of your daggers and stab him. Counterproductive, you reminded yourself like a mantra. Counterproductive and way, way too messy.
Massaging the back of your neck through the cloth of your cowl, you sighed, "I'm not an assassin. You're the arcanist, right? I'm actually here looking for you. I heard you and a colleague of yours were studying Lyrium. I wanted to discuss your results."
The dwarf seemed to perk up a bit, but you were impressed when she also appeared to keep her interest subdued and cautious, "I am…but wouldn't a letter have sufficed?"
"She has an aversion to sendin' letters unless the Maker-damned world's endin'," Dand joked, though you didn't fail to notice the hand that was still firmly wrapped around his hammer. You wondered why he even bothered – it wasn't like he had the room to swing the cumbersome weapon should the situation come to it. "Drives me up a wall, as you can imagine." The woman was silent.
"Ignore him – he wouldn't understand a serious situation if it slapped him in the face," you intoned dryly. Beside you, Dand seemed to deflate with a muttered protest. "I didn't send a letter for security reasons. They're too easily traced, especially since your research isn't common knowledge. I didn't need people figuring out my location by tracking a messenger bird or bribing a loose-lipped courier. It was safer this way."
"Safer, right…you would think that," groused your Fereldan accomplice.
The arcanist ignored him as you had suggested, much to your amusement, "True…but how did you come to know about my research? Actually, you know what? Don't tell me. I probably don't want to know. I don't know if that's such a good idea. I don't want to tell you that you wasted a trip, but I don't know you or what you'd do with this information." You found yourself again wishing you had left Dand behind.
"I'm doing some research of my own," you half-lied smoothly without missing a beat. "I have a theory about Lyrium and its connection to the Fade. I just wanted to compare notes, if you wouldn't be opposed."
"We're publishing an essay about it in a month to the College of Enchanters. I'm sure they'd be more than happy to share it with you once it's been presented to them," the dwarf said warily. "I can't think of any reason why you couldn't wait until then."
Frowning, you paused for a moment before scrounging up what you deemed a suitable excuse somewhere from the recesses of your mind, "The matter is – "
"She's Amaryllis," Dand shrugged nonchalantly as if he'd interrupted you solely to discuss something mundane as the weather, "y'know, the bloke in the Free Marches goin' by 'Shadow Broker'. Don't like to go through official channels, this one." You "stared" at the Fereldan, slack-jawed. He appeared nonplussed at the mask glaring at him in obvious malcontent and continued to gaze with absent interest as the dwarf's eyes went wide.
"Oh wow! Amaryllis? Here?" You wanted to groan at the starry quality the high-pitched voice acquired. "I mean. I've heard about you – who hasn't? Some of the apprentices here like to gossip about what's going on in around their homes. From letters they get from their family, you know? There's a group of Free Marchers here who love theorizing about who you really are. They kept insisting you're a man, but I just knew you were a woman! There's been no evidence that you have spies, and they say that you sell information on the Carta a lot – you'd have to be an amazing infiltrator to be able to do that! Not saying that a man couldn't do it, but you being a woman just makes so much more sense! Ancestors, I can't imagine why you'd be interested in my work of all things…" The stout woman seemed to have lost any and all reservations she'd had prior as she continued to babble ecstatically. Her volume was slowly increasing and a wince slowly began to form on your face.
Your wonderful accomplice snickered under his breath, "Looks like you have a fan…" You decided not to dignify the murmur with a response.
"Like I said, I have some theories of my own that I'm working on regarding Lyrium and I would simply like to compare my theories to any information you have. I prefer doing things in person. However, considering you work in a Circle tower, I couldn't really approach you directly. I do apologize for the trespassing, but I hope you understand that I really didn't have much of a choice," you explained in your calm "Broker voice". You had insisted that the patient tone was meant to be calming, reassuring on the handful of times you had been forced to speak to people. Dand had been skeptical and been firm that it sounded like you were up to something. That was a matter upon which the two of you had agreed to let sleeping dogs lie.
"I…," the dwarf hesitated for a brief moment more before heaving a determined sigh. "Alright. I'll show you, but we'll still have to avoid the Templars. And I still don't really like this…"
You held your right hand up in what you hoped came off in a solemn manner, "I swear that any information I may glean from you will be repaid, and shall never be passed to another person without your express permission. I'll even knock Dand out so he doesn't hear, if you'd prefer." There was a muffled protest from the Fereldan that was silenced with a nudge to his arm to show you were really just kidding. You wouldn't knock him out – escaping from the Tower if you did that was just asking for trouble. However, you were not opposed to holding your conversation with the dwarf away from his ears. It was sensitive information you would be discussing with her – information that indirectly, if you were correct in your assumptions, involved Nirn and the catastrophe that had befallen it because you hadn't been able to act in time. It was information you didn't want Dand to hear, in part because you were ashamed. You had failed, fouled, and it had led not only you, but millions more to their ruin. How could anyone trust you after learning that? How could you even trust yourself?
Questions for another time, you reassured yourself as the dwarf reached out a hand to shake your own, "My name is Dagna." A smile bloomed slightly. You had a name to put to the voice now.
"Amaryllis is the alias I prefer to go by when directly dealing with others. Shadow Broker is a bit of a mouthful," You let the smirk bleed through your voice. "I think I'm going to enjoy working with you."
You honestly hadn't been too shocked when Dagna led you and Dand through several passageways and inter-connected rooms that seemed to have escaped Templar notice and was therefore devoid of their oppressing presence. In fact, you had actually felt a little ashamed since your lack of knowledge of the hidden paths severely indicated that you really hadn't done your homework before infiltrating the tower. You were sure that your heated face was blushing several garish shades of orange beneath the mask that you never remembered ever being so grateful for before that moment.
As you walked silently behind the dwarf, you allowed your hand to run gently along the stone wall to your right. The small patches on your fingertips where your gloves lacked fabric allowed you to press your flesh to the cool surface and "see" it. The hallways were relatively plain as was the usual Fereldan style, but the occasional carving or rustic painting caused the building to gain a feel reminiscent of what you had felt in Skyrim among the ancient walls of the College of Winterhold. Though there were only the slightest similarities between Fereldan and Nordic cultures, there was enough of one for you to feel a little homesick.
Dand lumbered along next to you. He was pouting like someone had just stolen his last sweetroll and seemed entirely nonplussed about the simplistic grandeur of the occasional vaulted ceiling or impressive magical artifact. The clanking of his armor was dulled courtesy of something Dagna had done to it with some runes and a good splash from a Lyrium potion before leaving the storeroom. You weren't sure what it was, but considering that it worked, you figured you didn't really want to know. You had sold information pertaining to Thedosian magic before, but that did not under any circumstances mean you completely understood what it was you were selling exactly. Pretty much all you had gathered about it in four years was that it was Aedric in nature, pulling more directly from Aetherius than from Oblivion like your own Daedric magic, that blood magic was bad and left mages especially susceptible to demonic possession, and that not everybody in Thedas was born with the ability to perform magic.
Personally, you thought the last bit to be the reason so many in Thedas feared magic. The main religion, you'd found, preached that their main god had abandoned them. Mages were special, one could argue. Chosen by their creator to have a power bestowed upon them that made them stand out from the masses. If the "Maker" was absent and hadn't had a chosen one since his bride, Andraste, then how could he make these people from all walks of life randomly rise above the others? How could he choose these people if he was absent until his faithful proved themselves? What made them so special? It had perhaps begun as jealousy that mages were instead deemed "cursed", you figured, and then had only been fueled by the fear of potential demonic possession. People feared what they didn't understand. All had coagulated into the culture that locked mages into a tower and only conveniently remembered them when something horrible went wrong or they needed their help.
It all made you a little sick. Sure, in Nirn those that chose to pursue magical paths hadn't been welcomed unquestioningly and universally across Tamriel, but at least they were not treated as prisoners or practically third-class citizens. If someone in Tamriel had decided they wished to lock all with magical talent away from the world like those in Thedas, they would have had to shackle their own wrists in order to do so, as well as those of kings, priests, farmers, sons, daughters. It then was a benefit, you supposed, that everyone had free access to harness magical energies. One could not discriminate against mages without also discriminating against themselves.
Then again, at least Nirnish mages couldn't be possessed by demons. That certainly helped alleviate the innate fear of those who practiced magic.
Dagna soon stopped in front of a nondescript wooden door set into a wall along a hallway you had quickly determined had seen better days. Several bricks were crumbling and the flagstone flooring was missing and cracked in more than a handful of spots. Broken torches littered the hall with rotting splinters, and you were almost positive you could hear several mice scurrying through the dimly lit corridor. The door was the only thing in the vicinity that you could "see" wasn't utterly decrepit.
"Uhh, y'sure this is the place?" Dand inquired warily. You sent an invisible glare his way that turned out to be unneeded as the dwarf didn't take offense to the comment.
"Yep!" chirped Dagna in response as she eyed the rusted, ancient-looking lock and drew a slim, runed key from within her robes. "Lyrium can be dangerous to research, so we decided to use this wing of the tower in case things got explosive. The only things we'd be harming here would be mice and the occasional spider."
Dand paled, "Explosive?"
You gave him a pointed look you hoped he could feel, "Don't tell me you didn't know this. You're a mercenary – surely you've gotten the occasional job to take care of smuggling rings?"
"Well, yeah. The fact that the stuff's explosive didn't really register until now…," he grumbled, his tone turning into a whining, sour pitch that made you chuckle.
"Are you still regretting coming along? I'm sure Dagna could point you in the direction of the nearest Templar if you want to leave that badly."
The Fereldan glowered at you sharply, though his further blanching face belied the fear he felt at the prospect, "No. I'm just wonderin' not for the first time about your sanity. Sometimes I wonder if you're a bloody demon sent to make my life miserable."
You would have retorted, but at that moment, the rusted lock Dagna had been putting a considerable amount of strain on to twist the enchanted key finally gave in with a shrieking wail that stood your hair on end followed by a heavy thunk! The stout arcanist grinned widely and pushed the oak slab open (followed by, much to your dismay, more wailing courtesy of the rusted iron hinges) to reveal the workshop beyond.
Glowstones lined the walls, placed in strategic gaps between thickly-laden bookshelves. Several desks and tables were littered around the room all covered in sheaves of paper and thick, leather bound tomes opened to various different pages and stacked atop one another. Empty ink bottles were pushed off to one side of the desk farthest to the right wall along with what you counted to be five broken quills and a dozen half-empty bottles of Lyrium. The desks in the middle and off to the left side of the room held glowstones of their own, though these were significantly brighter in luminescence than their wall-bound counterparts. The remnants of food littered two plates stacked haphazardly on the rug-covered floor next to the left-hand desk – dinner, you presumed. There were no windows lining any of the walls, and you figured that particular aspect had something to do with the fact that the room wasn't near an exterior wall.
As the three of you walked past the threshold, it took you only a moment to realize something was amiss and you froze midstride. Dand confusedly followed your example while Dagna skipped over to one of the bookshelves without even sparing a glance to the center of the anomaly that had caught your interest. You barely noticed any of this, your focus instead on the strange feeling you were now sensing about the room as you stretched your left hand back again to firmly hold the doorframe.
The heavy blanket of Aedric magic was thick in the air even outside of the tower, but inside it was almost oppressive to your more Daedric-oriented senses. With each breath you almost felt as if you were choking on the polar opposite of your own essence. It was disconcerting, but something you had been able to get past with a little thought and a lot of determination. It didn't help matters any that your Altmeri blood had always made you highly sensitive to lingering magical energies.
You recalled Merrill briefly, how the young elf's magic had felt like it was being diseased, almost like it was choking her. Shortly thereafter, it had come to light that the First was involved in blood magic, and the "disease" you had felt had actually been a looming demonic presence. Studying Merrill and Marethari had been how you had learned that Thedosian magic felt pure, yet oppressive, and how to tell when it contained anomalies.
What had captured your attention so much had been the presence of a man in the room and the way Thedas' magic seemed to flow around him. A head covered in a mess of tawny curls was bent over a roll of parchment set astride a thick tome on the middle desk while the left-handed scribe scribbled furiously away, quill moving at an almost inhuman pace. The feeling of wrongness that to you signified Thedosian magic threaded through the air, reaching and grasping for the robed man. However, it was obstructed by something flowing outward from the mage, coming from the center of his forehead. What caused you such a start was the feel of the veil of energy that bubbled around him. It felt familiar, like home.
It was Daedric.
Suddenly, the man looked up from his writing and observed you with placid chocolate eyes, the look in them causing you to shiver, "You brought visitors, Dagna?" The question was not spoken as such and was more of an observation. You didn't know what it was, but there was something forced in the mage's tone that made you feel uneasy, and something about the look in his eyes that made you want to turn tail and run. You couldn't place it, but it was there.
"Oh! Yeah. She wanted to look at our research on Lyrium," The dwarf shrugged as she riffled through more books as if the question was one she answered daily.
Her coworker's, as that's the only other person you figured the man could've been, face remained impressively neutral, "Is that truly wise?" Dagna had at that moment comically wedged her entire upper body on a deep-set shelf, legs dangling precariously as she tossed books behind her on a pile.
"Yeah, definitely!" she replied, voice muffled. "Don't worry so much about it and just introduce yourself! I've got this all under control. AHA!" With a cry of victory, her auburn head popped out from the bookshelf. In her hand was nestled a sloppily-bound journal about an inch thick. The binding, though obviously fresh, looked worn and you thought the pages stuffed inside as addendums to be the culprit.
The mage's sigh drew your cautious attention back to him as he drew himself up to his full height, which you estimated to be about to Dand's nose, "If you believe it prudent. My name is Daylen Amell. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Seras." Sera, you thought. Free Marcher.
You copied the slight inclination of his head respectfully, though his forced tone of voice kept you decidedly on edge, "Likewise. You may call me Amaryllis, if it pleases you. This is my colleague, Dand." Daylen regarded you with a blank stare before sitting once more. You relaxed only slightly when he didn't make a move as if to leave and go inform the Templars.
"You've got an odd coworker, lass," Dand finally spoke up as Dagna plopped the makeshift book on the desk off to the left of the room. You smacked Dand on the arm closest to you as his comment was loudly spoken, but Daylen didn't even so much as twitch. Instead, he watched the interaction with unnerving, blank eyes. You shuddered again.
The dwarf looked shocked at the question for only a moment, "Oh, Daylen? Sorry, I forget that people who aren't used to being around them usually react like that. He's Tranquil." You started at that, pressing your hand more firmly to the doorframe in order to sharpen the picture of the room behind your blinded eyes. Sure enough, as you studied the mage's forehead more closely, behind the messy bangs was a distinctly shaped scar in the shape of a Chantry sunburst.
No, not scar – brand.
Bile rose in the back of your throat, but you pushed it down. You had only ever read about Tranquil mages, the state only bestowed upon people by the Chantry Templars when the mage in question was deemed unable to safely control his powers or resist demonic temptation. You thought the practice barbaric. You had been raised in a society where people were nothing if they did not try to harness the magic within them, in a world where every single living organism possessed the ability to reach into the realms of Oblivion and even bypass them for Aetherius if they were powerful enough. The thought of being stripped of your magic, of your connection to the realms within which the power you drew off of resided was frightening enough. The thought of being void of emotion was downright terrifying. It was one of the things in Thedas that had absolutely appalled you upon your first learning of it, and the disdain for the act had barely managed to have been tempered by the theory that Tranquility hampered possession.
You understood why it was done, sympathized with the reasoning, even. You just didn't agree with what it did. -
"You may not wish it," you said to him slowly, knowing how your words would likely be taken and unsure if their redundancy made them any less worthy to speak, "but you have my sympathies. I know little of Tranquility, but from what I have heard, I know it has a stigma of being…awkwardly received." You could sense Dand's eyes on you questioningly at the uncharacteristic (for you) display of sympathy, but you ignored it in favor of watching Daylen tilt his head in reflexive mimicry of curiosity.
"I was deemed a safety risk after I aided a blood mage in destroying his Phylactery. The former Knight-Commander Greagoir sentenced me to Tranquility for my crimes," he intoned peacefully. "Tranquil are valued among mages. While we cannot use our magic, it is safer this way, and we can still serve the Circle in other manners. I do so as a researcher. Your sympathy, however, is…appreciated." Somehow, the word came out sounding more like "catalogued". You smiled sadly.
Dagna, however, scowled, "You forgot to mention why Greagoir is the former Knight-Commander." You started at the animosity in her voice. It was the angriest you'd ever heard the dwarf.
Blinking slowly, the Tranquil mage looked in her direction for a moment before turning back to you and Dand, "The former Knight-Commander was dismissed because I had been acting on First Enchanter Irving's request to catch the blood mage in the act. Knight-Commander Greagoir ignored this fact and that I had passed my Harrowing days before. The College of Enchanters and several Seekers of Truth deemed that I had been made Tranquil illegally."
"Damn right that's illegal!" Dand suddenly exploded. "Your former Knight-Commander didn't 'ave the right to make you Tranquil without your First Enchanter's agreement, let alone if you passed your Harrowin'! This is why I bloody hate the Maker-damned Circle!" His gauntleted hands were fisted at his sides so tightly that the leather was squeaking against the metal plates. You looked at him curiously – you had known him to have a dislike for the Circles of Magi and the Templars, with a slight fear accompanying the latter borne of a deep-seated respect for their rigorous martial training, but you had never seen him express pure, unadulterated hate for the order. He kept mages in his company, you knew. Milana and Dot were subordinates; friends, even, and you knew that Dot had told him horror stories of his time in Montsimmard's Circle. You hadn't thought the stories had bothered him quite as deeply as his reaction suggested.
Daylen simply shrugged, "It matters not any longer. This is a good life."
"No. You just don' know any better," spat Dand, shaking his head. You removed your hand from the doorframe and decided to just let the warrior and mage duke it out while you spoke to Dagna. It made a good distraction for Dand so he wouldn't overhear the specifics.
That didn't stop you from pulling the dwarf off to the side of the room, however.
"Are they…?" Dagna trailed off quizzically.
Waving a hand in dismissal, you gestured to the journal still in her hands, "Let them argue. It'll keep Dand preoccupied enough that he won't go eavesdropping."
She pondered a moment before nodding and flipping the book in her hands open, "Alright. Was there anything specific you wanted to know? We did research mostly about how magical energies can be taken from Lyrium and why Lyrium is so volatile in its raw form, but there's a few side notes about how Lyrium is used in crafting and runesmithing." You shook your head.
"I apologize for giving you the wrong impression and if my information is incorrect, but heard a rumor that you had been studying a strange type of Lyrium. Is that, by chance, correct?"
With nothing to touch so as to visually see her reaction, you focused on your other senses. Your sharp ears heard the choppy intake of ragged breathing that usually indicated shock, and also distinctly could make out the increasing thu-thump…thu-thump of her heartbeat. She was panicked about something.
"N-no. I mean, Lyrium itself can be considered strange, but the only thing we've been studying is normal, run of the mill Lyrium!" She spoke too quickly, the words mashing together. Your eyes narrowed.
"Bullshit."
"It was only…" she hesitated for a moment before sighing deeply and seeming to deflate as she leaned against a bookshelf. "I started this research into Lyrium when I was sent a very, very small sliver of it from an unknown person. I had just come back to my chambers after my class on ancient elven civilization and the package was sitting on my desk. I thought it was odd, as all packages in the Circle tower are inspected before they're given to the recipient, so I think whomever left it for me went in through the window…which doesn't make sense since it's on the eighth floor…"
"Dagna," you snapped your fingers a few times, effectively drawing her attention back to you. "The shard was in the package?"
She shook her head as if to clear it, "Y-yeah! It was encased in a thin, runed silverite box, to prevent explosions. The Mining Caste back in Orzammar used them when digging up regular Lyrium, and I recognized the runes. But the Lyrium shard…it was very, very tiny – I don't know what they really expected me to do with it. It was also red."
You furrowed your brows, "Red? Lyrium? Is that even possible? You're sure it wasn't just…Lyrium-infused pyrophite or something similar?" The name of the foreign metal felt strange on your tongue. That had been another thing that had taken some getting used to upon arriving in Thedas – the different types of materials such as metals and hides.
"No. I'm positive it's Lyrium. I tried to study it for a while, but it started…singing. I don't really know how to explain it. I shoved it back into the box it came in and went and asked Daylen for help."
"Daylen?" you scowled. "Why not go to the Templars? Or the First Enchanter? Surely they'd be able to figure out some way to handle this stuff safely."
She looked down, "I was afraid to. I'm here on the good word of the Hero of Ferelden. She convinced Irving to let me study here, but it's still probationary. By then I'd had this thing for a couple of weeks. If I reported it to anyone then, I was afraid they'd revoke my grants to study in the Circle. I'm technically a surfacer, casteless. I wouldn't be able to go back to Orzammar, and if I couldn't stay in the Circle…"
"You'd have nowhere to go, I understand," you finished with a sympathetic nod. If there was anyone who understood having nowhere to go, it was you. "But is there anything else you can tell me about it? Other than that it's red and…sings…?"
Dagna seemed to perk up a little bit, "It's waaaaaaaay touchier than regular Lyrium. The ordinary stuff in its raw form can just explode for no reason, no warning. That's why the Mining Caste uses the boxes I mentioned. This red version? It was crackling every single time I brought it out of the box. Not 'I'm going to explode' crackling, but just…sparking. And…one other thing."
The arcanist seemed mildly troubled as she twisted her fingers together, "You know that Daylen's Tranquil…ordinary Lyrium in small amounts can give off sort of a hum to mages, but Tranquil can't hear it since they're blocked from the Fade. Dwarves can't hear it, either. Ordinary people without magic can sometimes hear it with long enough exposure. It's disconcerting that I heard it, since I'm a dwarf, but what really gets to me is that Daylen could hear it after a few minutes of being around it."
You let out a long breath, hand reaching up to fiddle with your mask absently, "He could…damn. That's…not good."
"I don't think so, no. I still have the shard, if you'd be interested in looking at it…"
Crossing your arms, you shifted your weight on your hips inquisitorially, "Is there something you want to ask me, Dagna?"
"Just…" she gulped. "By your reaction…should I take it that you didn't send me the shard?"
"No. I've been in the Deep Roads before, but I've never come across Lyrium that's red. Like you said…ordinary, run-of-the-mill blue stuff," shaking your head caused the stout little woman to sigh a breath of frustration.
"Sod it…," she grumbled. "Anyway, my offer still stands. I'd usually say it's not a good idea, but I don't think you'd be asking without a reason…"
Another shake of your head followed. "It's probably not a good idea with Dand here. I don't want to expose him to it if it has the effects you're claiming. Better if it's only one of us – someone has to be able to run my network if being around this thing turns me batty." You felt a little relieved when the dwarf chuckled, albeit uncomfortably, at the small joke.
"Good point. Was there anything else you wanted to know?"
"I think you covered everything I was hoping for. Thank you, by the way. That took an awful lot of trust to tell me what you did. Just to reaffirm, I meant what I said about not telling anyone unless I have your express permission. The same goes for the information on the Red Lyrium."
She frowned, "Why did you want to know about it anyway if you weren't going to sell it? Not to be rude or anything, I just…"
"I'm working on a theory of my own. I…I made a mistake. I'm just trying to make sure it won't happen again. I'm sorry it's…it's still a sore subject." It killed you to admit it, but the destruction of Nirn did still haunt you. Vividly. Usually in the form of nightmares.
Thankfully, the dwarf nodded, "I understand. Anyway, if that's all you wanted to know, I can show you and Dand out of the tower. I know a few routes to the entrance not patrolled very heavily by Templars…"
You smiled widely, "That'd be wonderful."
Dand didn't protest one bit as you dragged him away from the still very heated (at least on his end) argument he was thoroughly engrossed in with Daylen.
The rocking of the small rowboat was soothing to you as you and Dand rowed the dingy quickly across Lake Calenhad under the encroaching light of dawn.
"I am never under any circumstances comin' along with you on an infiltration ever again."
You laughed at the warrior's proclamation and responded dryly, "Oh, why Dand. I agree wholeheartedly."
And that was that.
Final Words: Well. So I put the human!mage warden origin in here, except, Daylen certainly ain't the Warden. I know generally accepted canon is that the mage!warden died if that origin wasn't chosen, but I wanted to add a bit of a twist. And I know that, even though he did seem to have a dislike of mages, Greagoir did also have a healthy respect for them. I like to think Daylen wasn't tried until after the fiasco with the demons in the tower, and that after that, any scrap of trust Greagoir may have had had been shaken. Like Cullen, but not quite that bad.
Also, since my beta asked me what kind of "accent" I was going for with Dand, my answer is Fereldan, but exaggerated. Think Robin Sachs as Zaeed Massani in Mass Effect - that was kinda what I was going for. Dunno how well I did, but meh. If all else fails, Dand has a Dand accent - my story and I'm stickin' to it.
R&R!
~SurreptitiousFox
