9:28 Dragon, Winter
The South Gate of the Starkhaven Circle had a bronze plaque affixed to its white stone walls that read, If I give you my hands and they burst into flame, do not jump, for the fear is what shall burn you.
Corbinian had been staring at it for five minutes as Ser Shay stood idly by, gazing up at him. She was short for a Templar, wide in the shoulders and the waist, and her chin slanted upwards as if a punch to the jaw had set her face. Samantha couldn't help but stare at the gap between her two front teeth when she spoke.
"Not long now," Ser Shay said for the fourth time. By her accent, she was Starkhaven-born.
Corbinian gestured to the plaque. "Do you know what that means?"
She gazed at him a moment longer before pivoting on the balls of her feet to see. "Oh, that. Some First Enchanter said that fifty years ago. They put up plaques all over. If you're clever, you can find them."
"Yes, I know. My brother and I used to have a game going where we would write down all the quotes we found. We were up to eleven, I think."
"Was Goran good at it?" Samantha asked.
"Not him. My other brother." It wasn't the answer she expected, but Corbinian didn't look away from the tablet. "That particular plaque was affixed late in the Blessed Age, after a dragon, thought to have been extinct for hundreds of years, burned Branian's Lanes to the ground. It is said that First Enchanter Halden reached out his hand to Branian, to save him from the fires, but that Branian was more scared of the mage than the dragon. And so he burned by the dragon's flame."
Branian's Lanes was the largest farmstead in the Free Marches. Technically a part of Starkhaven and sitting right on the banks of the Minanter, the entirety of Branian's crops had been torched. The dragons had ravaged the river regions of the Marches for a better part of a decade until they were driven out, some said into the northern swamps that sat between Starkhaven and Antiva. The Lanes had taken two decades to restore, and Branian's grandchildren now ran the farm, producing the best peaches in the Free Marches.
"I've never heard that story," Shay said.
"I have," Samantha said. "It was the same dragons that ushered in the Dragon Age."
Corbinian nodded, looking up to an overcast and grey sky. "Urzara be damned, for those dragons made her a fool."
Antivan legends were wildly popular as children's stories in Starkhaven. The swamps, those dragons, witches of the wilds, Avvar, all sorts of mad tales, and Samantha and Corbinian had been taught them all, especially the tale of Urzara. Back in the Storm Age, Urzara was believed to be the child of an old god. She had been protected by a cult who held that she would ascend to the Maker's throne, and in preparation, decided to burn Chantries from one side of the Minanter to the other, forcing terrified victims to bow down to some poorly carved stone replica of the beast. Eventually, the stubborn Marchers came together, and once the dragon had returned to her caves in the Hundred Pillars, a mountain range to the North, adventurers, Oath-takers, Templars, warriors, and sellswords alike banded together to storm the mountains. When Urzara fell, many cultists threw themselves in the Minanter River in despair at losing their one true god.
Many natives claimed that the river was darker than it used to be, the riverbed beneath stained by the flow of blood, and some even said that they could still hear the whispers of the dead in the water.
Shay stared up at Corbinian while he wasn't watching her, and Samantha bit her lip to hide her smile. Let this Templar look, she thought; Corbinian was beautiful, there was no denying that.
Shay asked, "So, what's the plaque mean?"
"That's what Halden said to the Templars after Branian died. He meant that the only reason to fear a mage, is if the mage fears you."
Samantha remembered that lesson, too.
"Not all mages are bad." Shay stood proud.
Corbinian looked back to her. "No. Not all. And one doesn't have to be a mage to be bad."
She clucked her laughter. "No, no, Your Excellency. You're quite right. I know some bad apples, but Andraste guide them."
"Andraste guide them."
"Would that the Knight Commander agreed," Samantha added absentmindedly.
Shay seemed startled, but Corbinian let out a breath of laughter so suddenly, not even he appeared to have expected it.
"Shouldn't talk badly about him, messere," Shay warned Samantha. "Not with a Templar standing by."
"Oh… I would wager you don't mind." Corbinian gave her a curious look, and she shifted uneasily.
"Shouldn't be too long." Shay said again.
They were there to see Innley, of course. By chance alone during joint training exercises with the Starkhaven Royal Army and the Templars, Corbinian had met Shay and quickly wrapped her around his charming finger. It was painfully obvious that she was rarely shown the attentions of men. While he had yet to tell Samantha how this Templar was able to do what no other had done, she wasn't going to ask too many questions. Not yet.
The Circle wasn't open to the public but the gardens were, and Corbinian had convinced Shay to arrange for Innley to have his duties altered to include helping the Tranquil trim the Circle's sculptured hedges. Samantha's brother had never shown an aptitude for gardening, so she imagined he would be pleasantly surprised to find they had so cleverly arranged for a visit.
But when the lock clinked and the doors swung wide, her brother did not appear to appreciate her appearance. In grey robes with no distinct markings, Innley stood between one Templar and a Tranquil mage. The Templar had his black blade drawn, and he gripped her brother's arm tightly, enjoying every moment. It was Ser Langley.
Samantha had never seen a mage who had gone through the Rite of Tranquility before, and the way he looked at her, or rather the way he looked through her, made her skin prickle. He looked young. Maybe Innley's age.
A roll of thunder echoed from above ominously, and Samantha wondered if the Maker was giving her a sign or if she just saw signs wherever she went. Regardless, she could have guessed what warning He was giving, for the Tranquil looked dazed, his eyes unfocused. Ser Langley sneered at Innley, her beautiful brother, who was scowling at her.
"So you brought me out here," he grumbled.
The tranquil mage walked passed them without a word, heading through the gardens and disappearing behind a shrub.
Samantha and Corbinian exchanged glances. She drew a deep breath before she looked at her brother. "Of course I did. I came to see you! How are you?"
Innley's eyes were closed doors, glowering beneath his thick brows. "What do you want?"
"What do you mean? I wanted to see you."
"Have a good look, then."
She paused a moment in confusion before she asked, "Are you well?"
"Really?" It wasn't a question, more like an exclamation of disbelief.
She hadn't seen him in almost a year and that was his reaction? Excuses danced on her tongue: he was angry, he was lonely, he envied her freedom, he missed his friends – his friends! Samantha wondered if… "Did you hear about Helena?"
Innley's jaw clenched but he said nothing, only continuing to glower as if he were just waiting for the whole meeting to end.
"I was here at the Circle that night." Corbinian was watching Innley carefully. "I looked for you…"
Innley shrugged, rolling his eyes and looking away.
"I'm so sorry about Helena. She never told anyone she was coming here." Samantha reached for his hand but he pulled away. "We do have good news. Corbinian and I are engaged to be married!" She smiled weakly at her brother but he wasn't smiling. He seemed offended.
"You know, mages aren't allowed to marry. Have children. Have families."
She had never really considered those things for Innley – not since he was sent to the Circle – but she did remember those restrictions from her studies. Magic wasn't something anyone would wish on a child. "Yes, actually… I did know that. Your curse might be—"
"My what?!"
"Magic, Innley." Corbinian cut in forcefully, keeping his voice flat. "Your curse is magic."
"It is a gift." Innley narrowed his eyes at the pair of them. "The Maker made me this way. You think he made me flawed and you perfect? Is that what you're saying?"
"That's not what we're saying," Corbinian said evenly. "But the Maker didn't intend for the doorway to the Fade to be opened through you. If you're going to be angry, be angry with the Tevinter magisters for opening up that floodgate."
"Oh! Of course!" Innley's tone was decidedly hostile. "The whole magic will not rule over man indoctrination. I forgot about your brainwashing."
"Brainwashing?" Samantha shook her head in confusion.
"Calm down," Langley warned, and he was staring at her brother so hard, Samantha thought he would burn holes in Innley's head.
Corbinian seemed annoyed at the whole scene. "I can see clearly that you're unhappy, Innley, but it's not our fault that you are cursed with—"
"It's not a curse!" he spat the words through his teeth with controlled ferocity, and he took a breath before he resumed. "Is this why you have you summoned me out here? To gloat?"
"Summoned you? Gloat? I thought you would want to see me! We're family!" Samantha gawked at him, irritated at the anger he was directing at her. "Even if our parents have abandoned you, I will not."
Innley's anger did not recede as he looked at her and in his eyes was a growing indignation that screamed more than just blind fury. They seethed with regret, with longing, with a hunger for a different life; and then he said, "I am not your family."
"Wh-what?"
Innley glanced over her shoulder to where the tranquil mage disappeared. "That walking corpse over there is more my family than you are."
"Now who's brainwashed?" Corbinian burst out furiously. "I know it was your fraternity that was responsible for that bit of trouble here a few years ago. Whatever they've told you about your family, I can guarantee you that they don't love you nearly as much as your sister."
"How can she love a monster?" Innley asked snidely. "That's what the Chantry teaches, isn't it?"
"Hey," Ser Langley warned.
Shay stepped closer. "It's all right, Innley."
He closed his eyes momentarily before he continued speaking to Samantha. "I don't even know you. You come here, to my prison, summon me from my room, and—what? Am I expected to celebrate that you are here? Rejoice in the freedoms that you have because you weren't born a mage? Just like I am expected to serve the city by performing the very magic that everyone seems to find so abhorrent?"
"Okay—" Langley placed his hand on Innley's shoulder.
Shay cut in. "Stop—"
"It's your duty," Corbinian commanded, as though he were back in the practice yard training young recruits. "Everyone in Starkhaven has one. Even me."
"Right," Innley scoffed. "My duty. Duty implies honor. Honor implies respect. Mages don't receive that, and like the rest of my family, I have no future in this duty. My future is this—" He gestured to Langley, who was still holding Innley's shoulder in one hand and his sword in the other. "Right here. Forever. Until I am made like him." He pointed over Samantha's shoulder again, and she turned to see the tranquil mage squinting at the roses, trimming them very carefully.
"Surely you can make a life—" Samantha started.
"My life has already been made for me," Innley interrupted.
"I won't warn you again," Langley glared, but he had the faintest of smiles, and his grip on that enormous black sword was tight.
"It's fine." Corbinian held out his hand to halt the Templar, but Ser Langley turned to Corbinian with a serious look. Shay stepped between them, lifting her small hands out to keep them apart.
The prince did not command the Templars – the Chantry did. And while, legally, the Circle was governed by the Chantry and not the palace, the Templars in Starkhaven granted a lot of favor to the Vaels because of their strong Chantry ties. Though just a lieutenant in the Royal Army, everyone knew Corbinian would be the Captain someday and so usually the Templars granted him deference. But would that be enough this time?
Samantha took a small step back, watching all the while. The way all these fighters were standing with their bodies rigid and their hands poised so near to their swords made her nervous.
"My brother won't hurt anyone," she said quietly, hoping to the Maker that it was true.
"You still don't see it? Must I spell it out for you?" Innley's contempt was immeasurable. "I am a slave, sister. Look at me. Look at my prison. Look at my jailors." He didn't move, but he didn't have to.
"That's it. We're done." Langley grabbed Innley's arms, but while he didn't fight back, he kept talking.
"The Tower might be beautiful and comfortable, but it's still a prison!"
"I said enough." Langley shook him hard but Innley still didn't fight back.
Shay cried out for him to stop, but Ser Langley ignored her and Innley kept talking. "This isn't a life! This is an amputation—!"
Ser Langley clamped a hard hand over his mouth, and the Templar was not gentle as he dragged Innley back into the Circle Tower. Samantha covered her eyes, listening only to the clang of metal and the scuffle of feet against soft earth and stone.
Corbinian's arm settled upon her shoulders as he turned her, leading her past the tranquil mage, who hadn't even looked up to see what the commotion was all about. Samantha's eyes blurred with fat tears and she tried to brush them away with her fingers. As he walked her far away from the deceptively pristine Tower, she couldn't help thinking bitterly that, despite all this neatness, the Chantry wasn't even bothering to hide its dark underbelly.
All of her visits had been upsetting in some way, but never had Innley been so openly hostile towards Samantha. Nor to Corbinian. And certainly not to the Templars, who everyone said were only trying to protect him – but why did they have to protect him so violently?
"I don't know if I can stand this," she admitted as they stopped at the statue of Corin the Grey Warden.
"Did you see the mark on Shay's armor?"
"What?"
"The mark. On her armor. It was here." Corbinian lifted a finger to his shoulder. "They scratch their armor right at the shoulder joint. It's a message to the mages who their friends are."
Samantha dabbed her eyes with his handkerchief. "You mean… she's a sympathizer?"
"That's exactly what I mean."
A sympathizer! A Templar? And there were more of them? "What exactly do they do?"
"Shay told me that there is a group of Templars that use symbols and markings to let the mages know who to trust. It's a secret code to indicate who will be kind… understanding… gentle might the best way to put it. Those without that mark, like Ser Langley, are Templars who are… unkind. Templars to avoid."
"She had the mark." Samantha thought about how Shay tried to step in, to protect Innley from the others. "She tried to help him."
He nodded.
"But he was so different… so angry…"
"Yes…" Corbinian leaned against Corin's pedestal; the man had fallen to his knee, gripping his broadsword to keep himself upright, looking upwards to the Maker in thanks for granting him victory. That was what the plaque below said, anyway. "But Innley isn't alone."
Samantha looked up to the bronze likeness of the Grey Warden, and wondered if he was cursing the Maker instead. Cursing Him for the all the evil in the world that forced such sacrifices to be made. Sacrifices like love and family. How many things was Innley forced to sacrifice, just because he was born with magic? That wasn't his fault.
She thought about the Templars. When she was younger, they were righteous crusaders safeguarding the citizens and the mages, but, during the last few years, they had become something different. The group had once been singular in her mind, but was now splintered into factions: those who enjoyed the power, and those who felt responsible for it. It brought her some measure of comfort to think that someone was watching out for her brother, even if it was weaker Templars like Ser Shay. Samantha thought about Innley's supposed family. That weird looking man with the unkempt beard, the young woman with the tattoo, the boy with darker skin than Corbinian… they were unknowns, paper dolls standing in a diorama and her perspective was skewed.
She glanced over her shoulder to the Tower, white and beautiful. "Maybe so, but given his attitude, I wonder about the intentions of Innley's company."
"We won't let him push us away," Corbinian assured her. "I don't care if he screams at us for the next ten years, we'll still visit him."
She cracked a grin, but it faded away when she thought of her brother raging at her. "He was so angry…"
"It's not all that surprising, really. Not if you think about it." Corbinian paused, and then said, rather unexpectedly, "I remember how I felt when I was sent away…" A moment's hesitation. A small thing. Miles and miles away in a city peppered with mausoleums built in celebration of death. "Everyone goes through phases. We get scared, we get angry, we get scared again."
"You were scared?" she asked skeptically.
"Of course. And then I was angry," he said frankly. "But I knew I'd come back."
"Unlike your other brother?"
He gave her a half smile, and not his best attempt at that. "Sebastian."
She tightened her grip on his hand, wishing they were behind a locked door so she could embrace him without worry of who might be around the corner. "Do you miss him?"
He shrugged. "I received a letter from him yesterday. He's planning on taking his vows to the Chantry in the coming months."
So Sebastian Vael had finally committed to something – but it was to becoming a brother in the Kirkwall Chantry. Samantha couldn't wrap her head around it; in her mind, he was still the wild and reckless boy who had once removed a suit of armor from the Harimanns' estate and left it standing in the Starkhaven Chantry. She remembered arriving for service along with the rest of the nobles to see the armor standing behind the Grand Cleric's podium. Francesca hadn't been amused.
For as long as she could remember, the brothers had been inseparable until whatever row had sent Sebastian to Kirkwall and Corbinian to Nevarra, effectively dissolving their friendship. Now, their relationship more closely resembled rivalry as each seemingly disapproved of the other. But brothers fight, and brothers never let go – Samantha hoped that was true of her brother – and she imagined that the two Vaels would find a way to come back together just as she held that hope for her own family.
Someday.
"You object to this course of action?" She asked him, and he hesitated a moment, like he knew the answer but didn't want to say, and so she bravely stepped closer, placing her feet between his, and mentally damning anyone who found them to the Fade. "Are you ever going to tell me what's between you two?"
He flashed her that winning smile. "Why, you, of course."