"Why is it taking so long?"

Garrett didn't take his eyes off his work. The Footpads had paid a decent sum of money to find a secret entrance to the Chantry, and when they had the location Athenril had made sure none but they could use it by covering the space just before the door itself with a complex system of ropes and strings. And if your tripped one, or loosened them in the wrong order, the result would be that the hidden caches of firebombs above them would fall down and burn all below to cinders.

As such he was less than concerned about Anders growing impatience as he worked the last knot open with care. "We are on schedule, calm yourself. I'm just glad Athenril has yet to remember to change the traps..."

"And that's your happy face?" Isabela queried with a chuckle, making Garrett stiffen in irritation as he felt her hovering above his shoulder, no doubt trying to memorize what he was doing in case she wanted to break into the Chantry herself later on. She had, to Garrett's surprise, volunteered to go with them, rambling about loving the idea of breaking into the Chantry and adventure...

Though he was already beginning to regret his decision, Garrett had agreed to have her tag along, for as annoying as she might be, he knew that if they walked into any Templar-shaped trouble, she could be useful, if nothing else but as a distraction.

"My brother doesn't have a happy face." Carver chimed in with an annoyingly cheerful tone. The days before they had left the man had been swinging between being grumpy and excited at the idea of helping Anders, and in the end the excitement of adventure had won out...Garrett wasn't happy about that either.

Good that Bethany isn't along though. She had wanted to help, wanted to protect them as they did her, but in the end Garrett had played upon her fear of the Templars and made her reluctantly agree to stay at home. If it had been any other possible opposition, then he could have brought her, but he would not have her risk facing people trained to fight her kind. Though at least this one is less likely to turn dangerous, Anders isn't, thank the Maker, Isabela.

Behind him, Varric was chuckling lowly, amused but at least having the courtesy not to disturb him. "Clearly you haven't tried hard enough to make it appear."

"Ohhh...I like that idea." Isabela purred, making Garrett grimace, his fingers almost stumbling on the knot.

He found himself missing Aveline, the woman had of course not been about to help them. Ignoring a free apostate was as far as she could go, but breaking into the chantry? It was too much to ask, Garrett could respect that. So now I'm left with this 'company'... Grumbling, he struggled on with the knot as he tersely hissed. "If you wish to become burnt alive here I suggest you continue this discussion, otherwise, please let me concentrate."

Silence.

Then Carver chuckled. "Right, like you'd let that happen."

"Don't tempt me." Garrett opened up the knot and pushed the line aside before rising and turning to the rest of the group, ignoring the face Carver was making as he spoke. "Now, if Anders' helpers have done their job the Chantry should be empty, none the less I want us to move quietly and swiftly; we do this quickly and get out quickly, understood?" The others nodded, even Maric, the only one in the group with the sense to keep silent, offered a nod. "Good."

Turning, he walked forth and pushed the door open, or rather, slid the bookshelf that was the door aside, and stepped into the Chantry.

They were in the main chamber. To the right, the hall leading to the great oak doors lay, candles littering the sides filling the path with a warm glow. The chamber itself was a magnificent sight built in several tiers. On the ground floor they stood on the white paving was polished to a shine, causing the many candles hanging from chandeliers above reflect against it and making the room seemingly glow. To the left the second floor was little more than a large balcony, the wooden lectern at the front showing where the mother usually stood to hold her sermon to a standing crowd. Little in the way of standing was allowed in Kirkwall's Chantry, it seemed. Then again, we're closer to the head of the Chantry, I suppose we are more relaxed about procedure in Ferelden...

At least those standing to look up at the chanting mother would get a spectacular view of the statue of Andraste that stood just behind the balcony and nearly against the railing of the final floor. Garrett had, when the Footpads had broken into the Chantry once, had one of them tell him of it. Of pure marble, the statue had been made in Val Royeaux and was a gift from the Divine herself. Apparently it had taken them an entire week to transport the massive statue through Kirkwall and into the Chantry itself, replacing the old bronze statue with this marvel, the final piece made by a now dead artist.

She looked beautiful, her hair hidden by a cloak that fell down along her body, hiding all but her hands, closed before her in prayer as almost living eyes looked up at the sky for the Maker's love. Every fold of the cloak looked natural, as if she was really there, ready to step forth and bless them all at any moment. The soft oval shape of Andraste's face spoke of strength as well as an otherworldly connection that could make even the staunchest heretic reconsider his position...which of course was the whole idea.

The third level of the chamber was the one of most interest though, a railing running over three sides of the room marking it out. Close to Garrett's left there was a stair leading up to a few offices and stairs leading to the rest of the massive building's many living quarters, treasuries, libraries and the like. A narrow path ran between that area an the back of the statue of Andraste and over the other end of the room, a place designed for private discussions for priests and the admission of sins.

Which was their target.

Staying still for a moment, Garrett made sure they were alone, then waved the others to follow as they softly padded up the nearest stair and stopped in the shadows at the top to once more make sure there was nothing foul at work.

Carver was grinning, as was Isabela. Anders on the other hand looked impatient, but held his tongue, while Maric sniffed at the air, somewhat worried, but not giving any real warning. Garrett on the other hand checked left and right, but saw nothing moving in the shadows within the chamber, instead he could spot a man in mage's robes over by a confession booth, having his back to them as he worked on what seemed to be a pile of papers.

"Let's go." Garrett rose, walking down the path behind Andraste's head, oddly enough feeling somewhat rude for doing so.

Now walking in plain sight, hurrying forward as Anders forced the pace, the group, particularly Garrett and Carver with their heavier equipment, made quite a sound in the otherwise silent chamber.

Despite that, the man didn't turn.

Garrett and Maric exchanged a worried look.

"Karl." Anders spoke, the dry voice tinged with affection at the sight of the grey haired man as he stepped closer. "It's a relief seeing you, I hadn't heard from you for ages and feared the worst."

"You were wise to do so." Came the response as the mage looked up from his papers, yet still not turning, his voice oddly...monotone...empty. "The fact that you came here though...that was less wise."

"What? Why are you talking like that?" Anders asked, his voice rising as he stepped forward and grasped Karl's shoulder. "Look at me and tell me...no!"

The grey eyes looking back were as dull as the mage's voice, his forehead branded with the mark of the Chantry, his posture slack, an aura of unreal calm about him. "We were never going to win, I understand that now, the Templars are simply too powerful, but I am content with that." Only now did Garrett notice a thin wooden stick in the man's hand, a stick covered in blue runes. "As you may be, if they judge you should be made tranquil." He snapped the stick in two.

An instant later there was a crash as the gates down below were flung open, then closed with the force of a group that knew only how to do things violently.

Shit! Garrett spun round, his sword suddenly in his hand, his other dearly missing his shield even as panic welled up within him. Okay, you planned for this, Templars being on to us...though I didn't expect an ambush like this, damn magic...they're between us and our exit, can we flee upwards? Yes, and then hide and sneak by...

Next to him, Anders was bristling, no, glowing...

Stumbling away from the man, Garrett's eyes widened in horror as he saw blue lights criss-crossing across Anders' face, his eyes two orbs of pure blue as his scars began to pulsate with purer and purer lights. "Holy..." Varric jumped away as he too noticed it, staring at the sight of the light actually penetrating the folds of Ander's robe, revealing a myriad of scars across his body that now glowed enough to make him outshine the nearby candles.

He was baring his teeth, a low, unearthly, growl escaping him.

Karl raised his voice. "Templars! Over-"

Garrett moved to punch him...only for the man to fly backwards, hurtling into the wall with a sickening crack before crumpling to the floor. Turning to stare at Anders, he found the man's hand outstretched, glowing scars shining through his black glove as a grimace of disgust crossed his face, then turned to one of fury, a low hiss escaping him, the voice rumbling, far away from Anders' usual voice. "They did this to him...forced me to put him down like an injured dog...they must know justice..."

"Errr..." Garrett had no idea what was going on, and was unsure whether to run for it or not, whether Anders was now an ally or not...and highly doubted the Templars wouldn't notice the man's pulsating glow.

He was right. "Ser! Over there!" The voice echoed, spoken from a man in a Templar's helmet. So much for hiding...

The next man speaking did not wear a helmet by the sound of it, but was one of authority. "Anders, we know you are here, your dissident behaviour is at an end! Come peacefully and it will be considered upon your trial!"

"They think they have the right to punish, to cast judgement..." Anders growl rose, his glowing eyes narrowing as they stared at the dead Karl. "They know nothing of justice, nothing of what's right!" His voice now rose, a bass tone no human was capable of, angry, powerful...he whirled about. "All Templars must die!"

"Wait-" Garrett couldn't stop it, he could only watch as Anders surged forward, leaping atop the railing and dropping into a crouch, like a panther ready to pounce, his dark shape glowing with power.

"There! Stop hi-!" The call was too late, for a moment later a fireball hurtled from Anders hands, followed by another as he straightened, hands raised high as spheres of fire began to reform in the palms of his hands.

Below, there were explosions and cursing, but surprisingly no cries of pain. Instead Garrett felt a chill run down his spine...and saw Anders stagger as the space around him seemingly shifted. The mage staggered, but then stood up, growling as another two fireballs were hurled down. "You will never hurt another mage again!"

Garrett's hand flicked out, catching Isabela's hand in a vice before she could leap down and fight. He ignored her angry exclamation though, instead he took a deep breath. Okay, we've known we could face Templars before, at least I and Carver know what to do, hell, with Bethany not here we have more freedom to act. The Templars are highly trained and heavily armoured, we are two farmers with weapons and some extra skill, tactics are required. "Carver, Maric, Isabela, guard the top of the stair nearest us, but do not let them see you, charge down when I give the word."

Just not sure how tactics will help enough... Garrett frowned, ignoring Carver's quick nod as he dragged Isabela and the Maric with him. Eyeing their surroundings until his eyes came to rest upon the statue of Andraste. "Varric, take up position behind her, but don't open up just yet, but make sure none of them leaves, that's your top priority." The dwarf nodded and started to jog towards the assigned position, only to glance back in surprise as Garrett jogged after him.

It's a work of art, holy, beautiful, far too delicate to damage, even at the foot... Garrett hoped he remembered the Footpad's story correctly, otherwise his idea would be a horrible failure. Ignore it. Following his own advice, he instead looked over the railing as he moved, trying to get an estimate of the situation.

It wasn't good.

The Templars numbered eleven, and none of them had even been scratched by Anders' bombardment. They were moving as one, eight of them overlapping their distinctive shields to deflect the blasts of the mage, fireballs that seemed to actually shrink as they approached the Templars. Two others were holding bows, taking pot-shots at Anders, though the demented mage ignored the buzzing shafts whizzing past his head as he again and again tried to destroy the Templars slowly moving towards the stairs.

In the middle of the formation, a tall Templar with a dark beard and a balding head was gesturing at Anders with his greatsword, looking irritated rather than angry. "Falter, damn you!" Again, the air around Anders seemed to shift, making the mage stumble and shake his head...only to once more growl and hurl down a fireball at the shields below in response.

Better take the chance now, while they're focused elsewhere and tightly packed. Ignoring Varric's puzzled look, Garrett climbed over the railing, kicked out and found his feet reaching the back of the statue of Andraste. Okay...here goes nothing. Grunting, Garrett inched downwards, his hands against the wall, his feet against Andraste...and pushed.

The statue shifted.

His legs were moved upwards as he felt the statue rock back towards him...and then he pushed again, making it pick up momentum.

"Are you going to...that's crazy!" Varric hissed, crossbow resting against the railing as he kept one eye on the Templars, another on Garrett. A Garrett not quite sure if the dwarf was amused or simply shocked.

Andraste was moving towards him...and then forward again as with clenched teeth he kicked out. A masterpiece, so beautiful and real, one can't simply fasten such a thing of beauty with crude bolts, one cannot diminish such a beauty with anything else. The Footpad had spoken of it with reverence, but also greed, joking about the idea of carting the thing out to sell since it wasn't bolted down...

Grunting, Garrett pushed...and found himself falling down.

Catching himself by grabbing onto a banner with the Chantry symbol stitched over it, he ungainly slid down to the floor even as he stared at the sight ahead with wide eyes.

The beautiful statue was tipping, no, falling, forward...and as gravity did its work, the Templars finally noticed it. The first was one of the archers, her eyes no doubt wide underneath her helmet as she stared up at the marble coming down at them. "Andraste!" Garrett wasn't sure if it was an exclamation of horror or wonder at the sight of her prophet.

It made the leader look up though, eyes wide with horror. He pushed another man aside. "Scatter!"

It was his last word.

With a crunch, the soft face of Andraste shattered into unrecognisable pieces...but not before having crushed the commander of the Templars into pieces of shorn steel and gore. Most of her body missed the group, but her shoulders crushed two more, and her hands broke off at the impact and were sent hurtling into another one, slamming her against the wall and no doubt breaking every bone in her body.

The rest disappeared in a cloud of dust and as pieces of the statue slid over the floor, Garrett could see many of them as shadowy shapes tripping and falling over one another.

"Now!"

The others needn't be told twice, and were already hurtling down the stairs.

The Templar that the commander had pushed had stumbled up the steps...and now raised his head just in time to catch a sight of a swinging Carver before his head, still in its helmet, was sent bouncing down the stairs. Another growled and slammed his shield into the still charging Carver before bodily throwing him over the railing of the stairs...only for himself to go the same way as Maric launched himself into him.

Carver landed with a crunch and a curse, the Templar with a scream as Maric tore his helmet off with his jaws before biting into his face.

Roaring, a Templar that had gotten to his feet swifter than the rest, launched himself at Maric...only to stumble and fall forward as a bolt of whiteness struck his leg and froze his foot to the floor, Anders second blast striking his hand, freezing his blade to the floor. A moment later Carver had rolled atop the Templar and, grunting with lingering pain from his fall, began to bash the pommel of his sword into the mailed neck of the Templar, slowly ending his struggling.

Ahead, Garrett saw Isabela hurl herself at a Templar struggling to rise, his sword raised to impale her. A blur of movement and he flinched as one of her daggers struck his shoulder..and then doubled over with a shriek as Isabela slid across the floor the last few feet, cutting apart his dress, as well as a few other parts, while she slipped between his legs.

Garrett himself found himself running straight at the Templar archers, one of them with an arrow already notched...making him wince as his left hand flexed uselessly where his shield was supposed to be.

Then a crossbow-bolt struck the bowman in the shoulder, making his shot go wide. Garrett launched himself at him before he could change weapon...only to be forced back by his friend as she swung a gilded mace at him. Garrett thrust out at her, but the only response was a chuckle as the woman let the blade bounce off her breastplate and stepped into his guard with her mace swinging.

Garrett caught her hand by the wrist, stopping the swing with a grunt as he lifted his left leg and stomped down at the inside of her left leg. She cried out in pain and surprise as the knee buckled, dropping her down on it while Garrett's grip on her wrist remained. The other Templar, sword drawn, came to her rescue...only to be tripped over by a charging Maric, the hound swiftly turning around and biting into the man's mailed leg as he struggled to rise while at the same time parry the strikes of a panting Carver.

Growling, feeling years of fear turn into anger, Garrett slammed the pommel of his sword into the side of the woman's helmet, making it turn down...right on time to face his steel boot as he kicked upwards.

A bang...and she was on her back, the mace rolling away as the blow knocked her cold. No one leaves the Chantry, not when they can identify us. Ignoring the scream of the Templar Carver finally got the better of, Garrett stepped forth, gripped his blade with both hands and brought it down on the still figure before him.

Another Templar head went rolling across the floor.

Then a curse in a strange tongue made him turn his head.

There, Isabela had climbed atop the raised shield of the last Templar...only for her remaining dagger to bounce off his helmet before he threw her off and into a wall.

For a moment it looked as if he was about to push his advantage at the woman already rolling to her feet, but then he cast a glance at the rest of the group...and turned tail and ran.

A moment later a bolt buried itself in his back, though the armour held, making him stumble forward. Then a fireball slammed into him, the inferno making him cry out as he, without having focused his Templar defences or even having a shield ready, took the full brunt of the attack. He stumbled yet more, black smoke rising from his armour, body swaying.

Then a second bolt shot forth, striking the gap between his armour and his helmet with a sickening crunch. He fell forward, body slamming into the door...and then sliding to the floor.

Silence.

Turning, Garrett looked up at Anders, finding the mage swaying back and forth as the glow began to dissipate, his blue eyes blinking in confusion. "You." Garrett pointed at him. "We had a deal, you will honour it, and then we need to talk." The mage, silent, nodded, looking hesitant. Garrett ignored him for the moment though, focused on the now. "Everyone into the secret entrance, someone must have heard all that; move!"

Cursing, Carver began to hobble towards the secret door, clutching his back as the others followed, Anders last of all, stopping next to Garrett and looking at the steady glare. "I-"

"I want an explanation." Garrett interrupted, narrowing his eyes. "But not now, now move."

Anders cocked his head to the side even as the last of the glow disappeared. "Fair enough..." Walking on, his mutter barely reached Garrett's ears. "...now isn't this familiar, would make Lynn proud..."

Looking back at the devastation, Garrett grimaced. He had never actually hated Templars, he feared them, yes, for the sake of his family, but hate was something difficult for him to muster. As such, he had killed them with no real emotional or moral reason, out of no more reason but greed...

His eyes drifted back to where the statue of Andraste had once stood.

Shame filled him.

You did this for the family, remember that, it'll be worth it.

Shaking his head, he walked away.

8

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8

Thanks to Abydos Jackson for all her help.